Being A Full-Time Employee C28

Chapter 28

I wanted to punch myself for spouting that line—“I’m a good runner, you sure you can keep up~?” Mortifying. Like some cocky moron showing off with no foresight.

Up ahead, Wonu jogged easily, glancing back at me with worry. I managed a strained smile. Truth be told, I felt sick. I hate to say it, but he really was a monster.

“Tired?”

I was. Exhausted, even nauseated. Every year my endurance and speed had climbed, my pride in it steady as a graph—and yet Wonu crushed me simply, brutally.

I waved him off, signaling him to run ahead. Of course, he misunderstood, sped up, and stopped right in front of me.

“You need a break. Running right after treatment was too much.”

No. For me, running after healing was fine. What was too much—was trying to keep up with him, damn it.

Only then did I understand Doctor Kang’s strange look. He had known it wasn’t about pain—it was about the fact I couldn’t measure up to this kid.

Wonu wasn’t even winded. He extended a hand to me. Even with my head down, trying to catch breath, I could see his shadow clearly. I lashed out, grabbed his wrist, and he blinked in confusion.

“You—you’re on some kind of tonic, aren’t you?”
“You can just call me Wonu, you know.”

I frowned. That bashful smile, that reply—completely unsatisfying. What was he, my older sister? My mind stupidly flashed a cheesy ’90s song lyric: ‘I’ll call you informally.’

“I mean it. You’re on something, aren’t you? We’re not even in a dungeon and you don’t tire.”
“…Maybe it’s just my age?”
“Hunters who say that get slapped by veterans older than me.”
“No, I mean, I’m young. That’s why.”

“……”

“Guess you like them younger, right? Jackpot.”

“God almighty. What videos have you been watching?!”

I waved him off and sat on the ground. He grinned prettily. Even after all those kilometers, sweat barely touched him. I exhaled long.

“I can’t anymore. Break.”

Next to the track—an enormous field disguised as “public exercise park,” when in truth it was Bureau property. Reinforced ground, stadium stands empty. Not ordinary at all.

I sat beside the most unordinary boy, chest burning.

“…I’m dying.”

Panting, I groaned. Wonu popped up to his feet.
“I’ll grab drinks.”
“Just water.”

Normally I’d refuse, but not today. His strides ate the stairs. I shouted after him,
“Don’t pick fights outside! Ignore idiots if they bother you!”

I sounded just like my mother nagging me—“Careful with cars, careful with people.”

He waved to show he understood. And knowing him, if someone did try, he’d effortlessly ignore them in a way that drove the other mad.

Mercifully, he returned within ten minutes, holding barley tea bottles. Surprising—it was the perfect choice. My legs might’ve given out if I had to search myself.

“Water was out. But I can draw some if you want.”
“No, this is perfect.”

I gulped half in one go. Capping the bottle, I checked the time.

“Let’s do a guiding test today.”

It sounded accusatory, and it was. Not suggestion, but order.

He didn’t answer immediately, face clouded. I expected that. Which was why I gave no choice.

“We’re going.”

I crushed the bottle in my fist, pointing my finger at him like it was a target sight.

“Because frankly, you don’t look well.”
“You’re not even a specialist. Not a researcher, not even a highschool grad—how can you tell?”

“You’re deliberately baiting me, trying to piss me off. But it’s clumsy. I can’t be offended if you’re right. I’m a middle school dropout, true, but I’ve still got eyes. Left 1.8, right 1.5. And I can see you’re off. So what is it—you gonna prove me wrong? Gonna be a top scholar instead?”

Damn it. Too long around him and I’d become childish too. Pride boiled, and for once I felt embarrassed by my own bragging.

“…Elementary.”

“…What?”
“I dropped out in elementary.”

“……”

I may only be a middle school dropout, but at least I knew quadratic equations. Against him? That made me the educated one.

“…I’ll take care of you,” I muttered.

The edge dulled from my voice. Considering his age, he could’ve lost school in the chaos of the break. Rare, but possible. I stood, legs trembling slightly. He grabbed my arm and yanked me up with the force of pulling a radish from soil.

“Careful—you’ll yank the roots up with me.”
“You’re as light as a radish.”
“Not feather—radish? Nice.”

I was already accustomed to his bizarre, unromantic flirtations.

That’s us: a doomed romance sim. Broken youth drama with bad endings. But maybe, just maybe… if I played it right, I could squeeze one happy ending out of it.

On impulse, I hooked his neck, fingers curling over his fine tendon.

“Wonu… I think I’m getting used to your strange habits. What’s that say about me?”
“Jackpot.”

“Seriously—where do you learn that?”
“Online clips.”
“Enough. I’m installing parental lock tonight.”

This kid was going to kill me.

Full diagnostics—bloodwork, EEG. The same routine as our first compatibility test. Nausea hovered as we waited results.

Across from me, he absentmindedly solved a cube. Not by color, but into an organized pattern, hands moving automatically. He’d done it too many times before.

“Wonu first,” a researcher called.

He passed, brushing by me without a glance. Already muted, expression empty. Sometimes a child, sometimes… utterly blank.

I leaned against the cold wall. Time passed strangely here—like a movie trick where the protagonist stands still while the world speeds around them.

Growing restless, I grabbed the cube he’d left. Solved it for color instead. Only one face left red when my name called.

“Guide Yang, inside.”

Inside, the senior clicked screens. No need for degrees to read the charts.

“Stability’s dropped, hasn’t it?” I said.

He nodded. “Troublesome because of Wonu?”
“Yes.”

I answered without hesitation.