Being A Full-Time Employee C46

Chapter 46

“Shoes. Take your shoes off.”

Barely a month since shedding his virgin skin, the rookie fumbled desperately at my heels—not with his fingers, but by pressing clumsily against the back of my shoes. The crude act scraped my Achilles and made me groan out, “Ah!”—only for the sound to be swallowed straight into Wonu’s mouth. Damn it, it felt filthily good.

“You’ll make me fall.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he muttered hurriedly, tugging at my shirt. His words tumbled out like nonsense between breaths.
“Shower, oh—don’t mean to ruin the mood, but… dust…”

True. Fresh from the Red Zone, dust clung thick on our skin. Eating it was the last thing either of us needed.

But to Wonu, my words seemed absurd in the moment—the look on his beautifully twisted face said everything. I reached back, found the switch, lit the bathroom, and yanked him by his collar.

“If you don’t like it, then shower with me.”
“…Did you do this with other Hunters too?”
“No. Showers matter to me.”

After skin contact as “part of the job,” showering was essential. Whether post-dungeon or post-bed, my mood soured either way. Only an endless cascade of hot water could rinse it off.

But now—I was dragging my partner into that space, into that time. Something I’d never once done, even with good relations. Something I’d sworn I wouldn’t. For me, bringing him there meant he was as important as those showers, maybe even better.

“Just stay still, Hunter Chae.”

Why waste words? My blood was already boiling. I shut him up with my mouth.

The neighbor child’s death was only a catalyst—but how events ignite matters more than the spark itself.

Beside me, clinging like a cicada in sleep, Wonu breathed in shallow sighs. Child-like, fragile, yet his grip heavy around me. I stared at the ceiling, thinking.

I told myself there was nothing left I needed from Chief Kang. I’d already stolen his photo of Wonu, thought of it as a blow struck. Kang had lost, I had gained. But no—the truth clawed me. I did have questions.

He would be delighted if I came seeking answers. I could already see his grin, and my gut curdled at it. I blamed Wonu—his sloppy way of shaking me up—for pushing me toward Kang. Excuse enough. The truth: I’d already decided.

At dawn, I’d go to Kang. He’d demand I enter another unclassified dungeon in return, of course. Fine. Let him. As if Wonu would ever let me die. Even last time, half-dead, I’d come back. And worst case, I had the necklace: my spare lifeline.

I looked down at Wonu—tousled hair, brows clenched in some dark dream. From the window, water drawings appeared and vanished, his unconscious power splattering across the pane like curses in heavy metal graffiti.

I rolled toward him, and he seized me even in sleep. Too tight, nearly choking—but the pressure comforted me. A heavy blanket, just right. Only warmer. Only better.

I brushed his bangs aside and whispered words he couldn’t hear:
“I hate crying. Hate it.”
“….”
“So, stay safe, Hunter Chae.”

Like a mouse fussing over a cat. But I didn’t fear his survival rates—what I feared was how long he’d be bound to this world. How long his leash was. That was what I needed to know.

Kang was absent from his lab.

“He’ll come back before the day’s out.” So said the assistant—secretary-researcher-gofer rolled into one, shadows of exhaustion gouging under his eyes. His tone held no certainty. Kang likely hadn’t told them a thing.

I glanced at the intern drowning his sixth coffee pod, sympathy rising despite myself. Working under a psychopath must be hell.

So I planted myself outside Kang’s office. Might as well kill time with a book, and this time even brought glasses. My eyes had shifted once when I awakened powers as a guide, and now unfocused if strained too long.

Wonu I’d told to stay busy with his health checks. Better he not trail me; he’d only tease, beg me out to eat, to wander. This way—we’d split, and meet back. Same bed. Same promise.

Funny—forty percent of his life he still acted like a kid. The real change was me. What used to annoy me—I now found endearing. That was the dangerous part.

“I’ve lost my objectivity. Not blind—just tangling my own fate.”

Too pretty to excuse with blindness. My aesthetic sense was fine. It was me inviting headaches. Different from who I was before.

I shut my book with a groan, pinched my nose. Same page, again and again, refusing to sink in.

“Guide Yang, you wear glasses?”

My hand started. Eyes strained, focus slow—so I gave in, set the lenses on. And there he was. Kang. The man they said might not come at all.

“Nice. Where’d you buy them? Can I copy you?”

I barked a laugh.
“No. I’d rather not wear the same frames as you.”

Imagine every passerby whispering, “There goes the guy with Kang’s glasses,” like “There goes your future boyfriend.” Insult, not praise.

“Shame.”

“They said you’d be late.”
“How could I, when you were waiting? I hurried straight here.”

I knew then. He already knew why I’d come.

He smiled his same opaque smile, gleaming eyes behind ragged stubble and wire frames. With the air of a man fresh from sauna, not a scientist.

Still, I followed through the heavy fire door, dread weighting every step. Hated it, hated him. But I went inside.

Am I doing the right thing? Should’ve ignored it, kept running. That was my way. Why turn back now, Yang Baekgyeom?

“What the hell’s a man like me, anyway…”

The hollow words muttered like a tired greeting. Kang hummed, flicking every computer screen to life at once. He looked almost joyful.

“So. What brings you?”

“I’ve worked long enough. Let’s raise my clearance. At least enough to see Hunter Chae’s file.”

Gloom snapped. Calm steadied me. This wasn’t regret—this was certainty. The question had to be asked.

“You know you’ll have to enter another dungeon first.”
“I know.”
“You like him that much?”

His smirk didn’t anger me this time. Because yes—I admitted it already. It wasn’t curiosity. It was… even more. Affection. Something close. Not quite romance yet, but surely wanting to know him more.

But I couldn’t just ask Wonu. Not after his reaction to that photograph. I wasn’t sadist enough for that. I only wanted knowledge, to avoid the things that scarred him. Like failing a test perfectly: sometimes you had to know all the answers just to score a zero.

Right now, cold machines stripped him apart in the lab, ripping every datum. Childish face, nothing childish inside: eyes dead, smile absent, shoulders heavy with too much living.

But at my side—he was always a boy.

“So, what’s left on Hunter Chae’s contract term?”

Kang tilted his head, answering with mockery.
“You, asking about a Hunter’s contract length?”

Yes—I knew. Hunters belonged to the state. But not even state chains lasted forever. Hunters had renewal periods.

When private guilds had snatched Hunters before Bureau registration, laws changed. Registered Hunters all held contracts with base periods and renewal review dates. Even if rarely invoked, the clauses remained.