Being A Full-Time Employee C26

Chapter 26

My head throbbed. Clearly, guiding had gone on all throughout the night. Which meant—Wonu’s power had been leaking, even if only faintly.

I felt groggy, heavy-headed, like after a badly timed nap. He was still asleep, yet I was wrecked. I shoved his arm off and sat up abruptly, blinking blankly into space.

“Mmnnngh.”

He whined, then threw his arm back over my waist like a stubborn child. How ridiculous—did he even know who I was? He wasn’t even fully conscious.

I patted his shoulder sharply.
“Alright. Up you get.”
“Mmmm.”
“Wake up, I said.”

My pats crept up his neck, poking softly. I couldn’t exactly slap, so I jabbed with my fingertip. Hunters don’t get scratched by fingernails—if they did, they’d disqualify for the title of ‘Hunter.’

Next, my fingers pressed his cheek. Poking firmly until his eyes fluttered open.

“Hunter Chae. Up.”

He cracked his lids halfway, stared dazed, raised himself at an angle like some fairytale prince, and then blurted nonsense.

“Did we sleep together?”
“What, think we had a pillow fight in bed? Get up. I’m sore all over—I need a jog.”

Only then did I realize I didn’t even know the time. As I rolled out of bed, I spotted him fumbling with his blanket.

“…Did you dress me, hyung?”
“What are you, a preschooler?”
“No, I’m an adult.”
“Then you dressed yourself. Do you think I’d do it?”

The clock on his desk had died. Battery-dead digital. Easier to find a working one than recharge now.

I was irritable from lack of sleep, ruffling my hair, tongue clicking.

“Then—why did you sleep here, hyung?”
“Because your room was crying.”

I smacked his busted clock as I answered. He didn’t get it.

“When you had nightmares… the windows and door knobs cried tears. Full-on drips.”

I pantomimed with fingers down my cheeks in mock tears, then slapped the clock again. Finally the second hand twitched—backwards.

“It’s broken. Get a replacement.”

“…Don’t enter my room without asking anymore.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been bleeding power everywhere.”
“That’s why the drugs…”
“Mention those pills one more time.”

I snapped my head so fast he flinched. He nodded meekly.

“Nightmares and power leaks are clearly side effects. From abuse. Symptoms of quitting after long use. You going to take more? Keep taking? Then when I’m actually needed, my guiding won’t work? Forget it. Not on my watch. I’m your Guide now—I’ll run this my way.”

Hunters thought they were higher because they were flashier. Wrong. To civilians we Guides may look like mere med kits—but really, we’re defibrillators, oxygen tanks, brakes, air bags, seatbelts. Try surviving without us.

“So for now? Your room stops being your ‘private zone.’ I’ll invade when I damn well see fit. I’ll run your body how I need. Don’t like it? Cancel our contract.”

“Hyung… You know that weakens me when you say that.”
“What are you talking about?”

I feigned cluelessness. I knew.

“Threatening to cancel… To me, that’s manipulation. And between partners, whose bond is meant by trust, that’s wrong.”

“Oh—did you finally watch a decent lecture video? Too bad. You broke trust first.”
“….”
“No argument? Then I win. Admit it—I win.”

I was getting carried away, almost giggling, until I caught myself. Immature. Clearing my throat, I placed the clock back down.

“…Then why’s my pot set in your room?”
“Well… I brought it when I came to drag you to eat noodles. Okay?”

Not exactly ‘okay.’ I wasn’t about to tell him the truth: that I carried those lids to shield myself in case his blasted water-bullets cracked my skull.

Now he trailed me everywhere, annoying like a duckling.

“Really okay, right?”

Ask one more time, and it’ll already be the twelfth. Mouth sore from repeating—but toothbrush jammed, I shook my casted arm instead. That meant yes. Besides, I’d scheduled rapid-treatment today. Painful, but soon I’d be out of this cast. Technology’s come far.

“But if you feel even a bit of pain—”

Still loitering by the bathroom.

“I’ve got treatment. Jogging after.”

“But treatment hurts, hyung…”
“Of course I know.”

As if I didn’t. I’d broken nearly everything once. They revived me limb by limb, thirty minutes a region, for two hours straight. Fourteen faints. Cracks in my teeth from biting down.

I avoided injury since—but still got hurt often. As long as I was active duty, it was unavoidable. Familiar, almost routine.

I spat foam, turned—his face pitiful. His lips, already plump, stuck out trembling. I dabbed the corner with a towel, tapped his cheek gently.

“You’re about to cry.”
“I want to cry.”
“Don’t.”
“Are you teasing me? Or comforting?”
“Teasing, probably.”
“…Why are you so fine? You’re the one injured, the one at risk.”
“Because instincts aren’t worth fussing over. You pass through, keep walking. What else?”
“…You don’t walk, hyung. You run.”
“What, want to chase?”
“Yes.”

What sort of conversation was this turning into? I shoved him back, shaking my head. Needed to change, get this cast removed.

“I’ll help you change clothes.”

I crossed my arms dramatically, joking.
“You’re not plotting anything weird, are you?”
“….”
“You’re too slow to answer. Out with it.”
“No. Just thought—a shirt’s easier, huh?”
“I don’t own shirts.”

Only hoodies, crewnecks, boxy pullovers.

Not difficult. Even casted, I deftly changed.

“Hand me whatever.”

He rummaged and fetched the one hoodie in light gray. I fiddled—suddenly jerked, laughing loud.

“Ahh—it tickles!”

He froze. “What happened?”
“Fabric bunched up…”

He blinked, startled, lashes fluttering. His dumbstruck face defused all the sting of pain. His pure, pretty face.

Maybe I was too weak for cute faces.

“I’m sensitive to tickles,” I sighed. “Just tell me next time.”

He nodded gravely, like a student taking notes.

Later, lacing my shoes, I spotted him at the door still standing like he was seeing me off. Jogger pants and T-shirt. Like ready to train.

“What are you doing today?”

Impulsive words—but they didn’t sting with regret. Truth was, I’d wanted to ask since waking.

“…Don’t know.”
“Then run with me.”
“Run?”
“Yes. I’ll finish treatment, then jog. You’ve done rapid-heal, right? Leaves you itchy, heavy. A run clears it right up.”

The words poured, needless excuses. When what I wanted to really say, simply, was: You look like you’d waste another day sulking indoors—come out with me. But pride skewed it.