Being A Full-Time Employee C41

Chapter 41

“Hunter Chae. Make sure you take whatever he brought!”
“Yessir~.”

The ever-obedient Wonu took the paper bag out of Hyungmin’s arms and brought it to me. A warm, sweet smell wafted out.

“Smells like bread. That thing… pressed bread in a waffle iron, shaped like a snail.”

I was never good at remembering names properly. Still, I’d started to understand Wonu’s taste. After a glimpse inside, I said, “Looks like your type of snack.”

My internal injuries were healed, but from the scene I’d caused on the day of my meeting with Kang, fresh bruises mottled the outside. Ugly purple marks, the kind that looked violent. I didn’t want Wonu to see.

“Go outside a bit while I change.”
“I’ll just turn around.”
“Fine. Then face the wall. Eat the bread.”

He obediently turned away. I changed into my hoodie—my second skin—though the bruises throbbed. Packed the few things I had. Just extra towels and necessities. With them, I slipped the Polaroid photo inside.

“Can I look now?”
“Hold on.”

I crouched, comparing the child in the photo with the man before me. The features were the same. He hadn’t been a chubby kid, so it was just his bones that had stretched. He’d grown damn well. I chuckled, placed the photo inside the towel.

“All done.”

I pushed up from the bed. Wonu stepped forward the second I did, eyes glittering more brightly than the snack he still hadn’t eaten.

“My heart’s beating too fast.”

Not completely a lie—his watch voice chirped, ‘Please breathe.’

Why had he worn the biometric watch he used for outings? He had not one, but two strapped on—his private one, and the Bureau’s.

“Why wear two watches?”

I laughed. He leaned his forehead against mine, laughing too.

“Because it reminds me. Of that day we went to the movie.”
“…Ah.”
“Good thing I didn’t get a breathing alert in the middle of the show. Lucky I’ve got guts.”
“You do, Hunter Chae.”

I grimaced, recalling when he carried back lungs sliced into three during the fight. He eased closer, brushing against me.

“Hyuuuung,” he whined.
“Why’s this Hunter acting spoiled?”

I mimicked the coy tone of a street brat, pushing him away. He didn’t budge. He’d bulked up. Even his chest seemed bigger—an insult to my pride.

“So you are in your growth spurt, huh.”

I muttered, remembering how my own height and weight hadn’t changed in five years. Unfazed, he rubbed his cheek against mine, pouting.

“Our home felt too big without you. First time it ever felt that way.”
“…That’s not what home means.”
“Then what is?”
“Somewhere you always want to return to. Somewhere you miss. Somewhere that feels easy, being there.”

I of all people had no such place. Just theory. I refused to let Wonu call this his home.

The hand meant to push him simply rested in his hair instead, stroking soft strands. His voice came muffled from where he pressed into my shoulder.

“Then you’re my home.”

What had we done, what did we share, to warrant that line? I wasn’t anyone’s home. Not a figure worthy of it. Just a coward with fear of dying, drowning in regrets, clinging stubbornly.

“…Bad real estate investment, Hunter Chae.”

I muttered nonsense. I could never be his home.

Back inside, warmth filled the room. I hadn’t realized winter was already at the windows—the leaves gone, branches bare. Grey, lifeless. Typical here.

Feeling hollow, I tugged the windowpane, then turned back. Not now. I needed laundry done. Needed caffeine. Withdrawal pounded my head harder than injuries had.

Dragging my slippers, dim, I heard him.

“Hyung. Want me to wash your clothes with mine?”
“They’re colored. That fine?”
He nodded, sucking on an ice cream bar. Just the wooden stick peeked out, oddly cute.

“Thanks. But why eat ice cream alone?”
“You want one too?”

Grinning, he opened the freezer—stocked with every type of ice cream imaginable.

“Not cold?”
“I run hot.”
“Yeah. Figures.”

I snorted softly, unwrapping one for myself. Vanilla, like his. He pressed a warm hand to my waist, touch now unhesitant.

“How’d you know?”
“Your tongue’s hot. During kissing.”

He flushed crimson. His cheeks, not forehead or neck, turned bright pink. Strikingly attractive. I admired it while he grabbed another bar, tore it, then took it in mouth. He sucked briefly, then pressed it from his hand to mine and corralled me into the sink.

He caged me with his arms. Somewhere along the way, he had begun to look like a grown man. When I first met him, he’d barely been out of school. And now…

“When I finish the laundry, let’s try an experiment.”
“…I don’t like the word experiment.”
“You’ll like this one, with me.”

He sucked on his ice again. Strawberry this time, dye staining lips. My eyes stilled there. He slid his hips between mine, brash. I smirked, halfway resentful, halfway expectant.

“See if my tongue’s still hot even after ice cream.”
“I had one too—heat’s ruined.”
“Not necessarily. I’ve had two.”
“And mine’s not done yet.”

I raised my bar, tilting so melted drops slid down my hand, then licked them slow and long.

“Better hurry.”

His face stiffened. Not only his face. Entire body froze.

I bit off the rest in a rush, ice burning my gums. Hurled what was left into the sink.

“Half versus one and a half isn’t bad odds.”

I gripped his shirt hem, tugged up. Always said black suited him.

He bit down his own ice, threw it away to mingle with mine in the sink. Cold lips marked my neck. Tilted my head, I glimpsed the two merged bars below—looked disgustingly like a heart.

The real disgust is me, I thought. Eager to cross lines without stabilization excuses. Drawing his head under my shirt, only then realizing—it was me who needed stabilizing.

Kang’s voice haunted. And this time, Wonu was the one to drag me back.

We started in the kitchen. Finished in the living room sofa. He pretended to go easy on me, a new patient—but I pulled harder, snarled when he tried to retreat.

Like after a run, body buzzed clean. Slack but alive. Peace pushed sleep near.

“I’ll get the laundry.”

He slipped from the narrow couch, draped me the blanket that had rolled to the floor. I hugged it close. Familiar scent.

“…He slept here, didn’t he.”

I could picture it—his massive body curled here alone. My chest chilled.

His past—whatever life carved him before—was harsher than I wished to know. Maybe I’d refused Kang’s offer not just for honor, but because I was afraid. Afraid of what would change in me if I knew.

“Never wanted to be a hero,” I murmured into the blanket. Pitiful words.

Then he came back from the laundry room, bare-chested, only pulling his pants on. Across his body marked faint scars. Some were fresh bruises—my fingerprints.

But in his hand—

“Why do you have this, Hyung?”

Shit.