Being A Full-Time Employee C23

Chapter 23

Wonu was many things, but a good kisser wasn’t one of them. His style was clumsy, almost brute. I exhaled into the damp cavern air, shaking my head.

“You’re just copying me badly.”
“When will I get good at it?”
“…Maybe in a week.”

I was quoting him—that time he had asked, “When can we have a personal talk?” and cheekily answered himself: “In a week?” Whether he remembered it or not, I wasn’t sure.

I lowered my arm, moved again to cover his back.

“But tell me,” I asked, “why the hell am I not recovering if I’m wearing that miraculous necklace?”
“It doesn’t heal. It restarts the heart.”
“What?”
“It brings someone back.”

The thought chilled me. The ability wasn’t just precious—it was miraculous. No value could measure it. To think he’d used something like that on someone like me, whose life wasn’t worth that price. He’d lost, making me the one he chose.

Still, I adjusted the necklace carefully and called:
“Hunter Chae.”

Like he sensed my tone, his nod came.
“Yes. We’re here.”

A wave of green light spilled across our vision. The dungeon’s core point.

“…A rock?”

Every time. The cores were disappointingly plain. Just a rock—this one jutting like a horse’s head against the cliff. Scenic, in any other place.

“The Espers are behind us. Just need to hold until they get here. Good work, Hunter Chae.”

He signaled our position. By now our location blinked across every team’s map. Hurry. Just hurry. I tugged out my canteen, about to drink—when Wonu snatched it.

“That’s—”

My words cut. He unscrewed it, gulped, then caught my head, dragged me in. I was lower, of course. A mountain slopes always diagonal; I found myself stumbling up on my heels, throat yanked.

Then—warmth poured into my mouth. The water he had just sipped cascaded into me. Spilled down my neck.

“….”

I swallowed reflexively. Droplets traced down my jaw to my chest. He lifted them away, floating trails, orbiting like satellites, glinting like stars near our headlamps.

When no more came, I pushed at him with my one good arm.

“Well?” he asked. “Still think I need a week?”

I didn’t need the vitals monitor to know his fever ran high. And despite my lips nearing raw, the guiding effect didn’t hold.

“You still kiss like shit.”
“…You didn’t say that before.”
“Didn’t need to.” I exhaled. “You’ve got a fever though. Maybe I should write it off as delirium.”
“I’m not delirious.”
“I don’t even know how much to excuse, given you’ve been partnerless until now…”

I caught his utility belt, yanking tight like a collar-grip. Lights appeared just meters away—two hunters carrying one exhausted guide. She vomited the moment she staggered in view.

“What are you two doing? Fighting?”

Their hunter snapped. He had speed-type abilities—explained how they caught up. Poor girl hauled like cargo, now doubled over sick. I stared, then tugged Wonu’s belt even tighter.

“Not really fighting, are you?”

Not here.

From his kit I pulled the morphine injector I’d used earlier, rammed it into my own thigh, released Wonu.

“No. Thanks to him, I’m alive.”

Wonu ignored them, kept staring.

“I owe everything to Hunter Chae today,” I added evenly.

Truth withheld: sweat, blood, and exhaustion had bled me out. I just wanted out.

The sickened guide stumbled toward us, rinsing her mouth at their water flask. Her hunter steadied her, but their match sputtered. His ability gave speed, not stamina—they weren’t synchronizing.

“You okay for guiding at all?” I asked.

“Don’t tell me you’re volunteering,” Wonu snapped. His tone sharp enough to cut.

I ignored him, focused on her.
“You sure?”
“…Ugh—yes. Fine.” She heaved, barely taking her hunter’s hand.

He sagged against a trunk, breath heaving. Clearly, not holding.

“Are you really okay?” I pressed.

“Hyung.”

Wonu cut in. Our lights flickered. I twisted the beam back on, dim halo forming again. His gaze burned through that weak glow.

“No one else. Only me.”

“That ‘no one’ can hear every word you just spat,” I muttered.

“I don’t care. No one else.”

“…Hunter Chae,” I said, low. He froze.

“Don’t push ahead.”

Out of my pocket, I withdrew the tiny zip-lock. Held it to his eyes. In our twin beams, it sparkled.

“Stabilizer accelerants. Strong, but one-use effective.”

I flicked it across. Their guide snatched it mid-air, reflexes betraying ability-level strength.

“You’ve seen it work, haven’t you?” I smirked, crooked mouth drawn. “Right, Wonu?”

His lips parted. “…That—”

“We’ll talk outside.”

I cut the matter there.

Soon, reinforcements arrived—the Esper unit, their guides, rear guard. Together, they assaulted the core rock. Nets unfurled down the cliff, powered by elastic material-summoning. Efficient. Whoever had planned this op had smarts, and long years under belt.

The glowing horse-head stone pulsed, shifting from green to orange—reverse dissolution. Unraveling not blue-to-red, but red-to-blue.

Watching it turn crimson, I exhaled steady.

Fuck.

The white pill in my pocket burned memory.

“I said we’d talk outside.”

I knew he heard. I wanted him to. This wasn’t over.

The operation completed, smooth as they came. Unlike us—our partnership wasn’t smooth at all.

No marveling at dawn’s light. Just dragging ourselves back to helicopters, climbing those damned ladders again. Torture, not transport.

“Climb carefully…”

Wonu’s voice small now, hushed. I didn’t respond. He looked deflated, guilty. I had too much to say to him, and this wasn’t the place.

With trembling arms and legs, I hauled myself aboard. He followed, seemingly unscathed. His last vitals didn’t match that calm look. Bad shape—but steady.

And wasn’t he the reason for this? Because he’d used that drug.

If I hadn’t remembered the lethally specific briefing that once saved me… I’d have mistaken it for a supplement, a damn vitamin. We might have realized only when his guiding collapsed entirely, too late, too dangerous.

That pill wasn’t just reckless. It was betrayal. He’d wagered both our lives without permission.

“Hyuuung…”

I felt his eyes. But I refused to turn. Face locked stubbornly away, lids drawn shut.

Exhausted, but mind clear. They said—any anger lasting more than five minutes was a choice. My brain had chosen.

I remembered another hunter, one he even knew. A man who studied for exams in the downtime, explained little details to me, told me things I never asked. Said he just wanted to learn.

I’d mocked him—asked if that was really a dream. Then admitted my own. To pass the GED. Maybe if he’d lived, if that fateful end hadn’t torn my first partner down… maybe I’d never met Wonu at all.

But he was dead.

He was the first person I bared anything to, after my family was gone. Someone I thought of as an older brother.

He died because of drugs too. Because he took stabilizers mid-battle, stressed his already overtaxed body. And that, along with guiding, snapped what was left of him.

The bile stuck in my throat.

The helicopter’s rotors shrieked awake. Thank god for the noise. Thank god—I didn’t need to speak. The vibration carried us up. My body floated, weightless and sour.

Wonu shut his mouth. Or maybe it was just drowned by the roar.