Being A Full-Time Employee C31

Chapter 31

“Hyung. My fever’s gone now, right?”

I touched the back of my hand against Wonu’s cheek. His heat had subsided. But the flushed glow around his eyes from excitement lingered, making him look almost indecently alluring. Red suited him—whether it was his blush, blood, cheap candy coloring, or even his tongue.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

I smiled faintly, taking his hand as we left the dormitory. His hand was noticeably warmer than mine. Walking together like that made the simple hallway feel more like a dungeon interior. Sometimes I wondered—maybe the whole world had already collapsed into one vast illusion dungeon, and we were just dreaming within it.

“What are you thinking?”
“…Whether we should get caramel popcorn or salty.”
“Both. I’m rich.”
“Sweet.”

I cheered softly as we stepped into the elevator and scanned for ID confirmation. It hummed to life as soon as our clearance went through. Wonu clasped my hand tighter, curling his fingers slowly around mine, before leaning his head onto my shoulder.

“My heart’s going too fast.”

He offered the explanation unasked, eyes falling shut. I didn’t reply—but neither did I shake him off.

We ended up buying both kinds of popcorn. Without noticing before, I realized Wonu’s hands were so big he easily carried the jumbo sodas besides. He held my cola and popcorn as well, while I spoke into the call.

“He showed instability in the morning, but stabilized right away after simple guiding.”

Instinctively, I checked my wrist before remembering I hadn’t brought the mission watch today, since we were on leave.

“The chance of issues arising during leave looks low. If they do, I’ll handle it by the manual.”

Same old talking points. Whatever phrased differently, the message was always the same—is Wonu unstable? I said what they wanted and ended it quickly.

“If problems escalate, I’ll take responsibility. Ending call.”

Whatever noise followed, I cut them off and put my phone away. My ear tingled with irritation. I muttered at the dead black screen:

“God. Boring.”

He had waited silently, stock still, like a trained hound left with a command to “stay.” Which made sense. If anything, he was more soldier than pet.

Even walking back toward him, I could feel wandering glances zero in on him. Yeah, he might be airheaded at times—but good looks? Impeccable.

“Hunter Chae.”

I always addressed him formally in public. Because of how Guides were perceived, because of what Hunters meant to society. He disliked it, used to sulk and complain I should simply call him “Wonu.” I only ever snorted at that.

“All done?”

I nodded wordlessly, finally freeing my hands. He dug into the popcorn at once, munching happily. Ate a lot, ate well—definitely still growing.

“…They treat you like a child left by the water’s edge.”

I popped sweet popcorn in my mouth, half to myself. He answered carelessly, tone as flat as mine.

“Or maybe they just think I am the water.”

“…What?”
“Tickets, please!”

My question disappeared in the loud usher’s voice. He grinned wide, producing them easily, then leaned close, whispering.

“This is my first time doing all this.”

Before I could respond to the weight of that, he bounded ahead, brightly chirping to the cashier, even tossing in a silly “thank youuu.” Inside, he tilted his chin at me.

“Come on, hyung.”

I hesitated, then offered my own ticket.

Inside, I realized he wasn’t exaggerating. He hardly blinked, laughing silently, eyes shining at every turn of the hero flick. He leaned toward me constantly, brushing and fidgeting like a restless puppy.

“That was awesome! But why go to the grave at the end?” His eyes sparkled.

I blinked, realizing the credits had already rolled. I’d seen nothing but his profile and the gloss in his eyes.

“…You’d have to watch the prequel.”
“…Are you okay? You look bad.”
“…Popcorn was terrible.”

Sorry, popcorn. But I’d barely touched it anyway—he half-believed my excuse.

“I’ll wash my hands.”

He had polished his share clean, bounding off. Alone, I slipped through the crowd of moviegoers talking about nostalgia, enjoyment. Until a sentence snagged my ear.

“If only that was real… then dungeon problems would be solved. Hunters, useless as they are. I thought they were actual heroes back then.”

Their cheerful tone clashed with the mockery inside the words. I dropped my gaze, silent. Picking fights with every careless insult was for rookies.

“What else do hunters do besides wreck things? Heard they smashed up some cars last week. There’s supposed to be a firm to restore dungeon-rot vehicles, but thanks to those idiots, it was all scrap.”

Nonsense. No such firm. Anything touched gets disposed of. Full stop. Compensation issued swiftly, profits massive anyway—resources hunted from dungeons at mortal risk.

People didn’t know. Fine. But I only prayed Wonu wasn’t near enough to hear.

A flower sheltered too narrowly—he didn’t even know what civilians thought of hunters. As if he’d been born and raised inside Bureau walls alone.

So I hoped. Let him linger longer.

“…I’m back.”

So much for my prayers ever holding.

He wrapped from behind suddenly, arms a heavy lock. I sighed silently and tried to move us quicker.

“Useless nobodies masquerading as heroes,” the same voice droned directly behind. The man, all teeth and malice, walking our way.

I shot Wonu a glance. His face—completely calm. Meeting my eyes, he only asked, casually:

“Lunch? Rice, or noodles?”
“…Protein.”

I hurried. He trailed, cheek pressed shamelessly against mine, whining:
“Dessert too~”
“…Fine. Let’s go.”

But the ugliness followed.

“What, fags?”

The snigger. His friend’s half-hearted reproach. My focus snapped instead to Wonu’s smartwatch, repeating in mechanical tone—“Please breathe.”

“Hey, hey.” The pair muttered. Hunters? That was their suspicion.

“Even better if he is. Hunters can’t hit civilians. Weaklings.”

Ah. Shit. I unclenched my fists forcefully.

Wonu stayed quiet. All my nerves burned at the giant now leaning heavier against me.

“Did you hear? Rumor said the Bureau experimented on kids back during the first breaks—”

No place for rom-com bullshit like covering his ears. Better to slip away.

“Stupid as hell urban legends,” I spat under my breath, dragging us aside.

But his weight suddenly staggered. This wasn’t play. His face—eyes shut, brows twisted in pain. His watch droned endlessly: “Please breathe.”

“Wonu!”

No reply.

I yanked open the nearest bathroom door—thankfully empty, weekday lull. Propped him heavy against the wall, shoved supplies from the janitor’s closet to jam the stall shut.

His hot face sagged against my hand.

“Hunter Chae! Do you see me? Stay with me.”

His head shook faintly, then nodded, then shook again. If he blacked out entirely, it would go two ways: collapse like a machine, or burst wide like a dam of uncontrolled power.

I pressed him into an embrace, tugged his hand to my mouth, sucking his finger between my lips. My tongue circled desperately, eyes locked to his twitching brow. When I bit down gently, his lashes quivered.

“You okay?” I whispered.

His nod was jerky. But everything in him looked anything but okay. Guiding barely made a dent—ineffective, like pressing against a rising tide.