Being A Full-Time Employee C12

Chapter 12

“You were working on something just now, weren’t you?”
“What do you mean, ‘just now.’”
“Sorry?”
“There’s no ‘just now.’ We’re always working. Want to come see?”
“Ah, no. If we approach, there’s the risk of backlash or overreaction—it’s better not to until after refinement.”
“Yeah? That’s a shame. The process is beautiful. We’re shaping it into bracelets, and the design’s gorgeous. What’s your religion?”
“Mine?”

I swallowed a sigh of relief that my sleeve hid the jumble of amulets and bracelets I always wore, and I deflected.
“Well… I believe in whatever god helps me in the moment.”
“Smart lad. I was going to carve you a cross, or a Buddha if you like. It’d look beautiful.”

Truth be told, I was tempted. Recovery types were unbelievably rare. I could use this for myself, or sell it for a fortune. But with other Bureau personnel and regular soldiers looking on, there’d be too many eyes to rat me out to Audit if I accepted such a gift alone. I smiled politely instead.
“Your thought is more than enough.”

The Hunter Bureau really was a nest of crooks. Ordinary citizens thought it ran smoothly, but from my position—not so much.

They’d passed laws early on to gather all candidates with potential awakenings into the Bureau’s fold. Anyone with powers above a minimal threshold had to register. Some, certified, became personal security for politicians and elites. The unregistered lived under constant risk, hiding, or joined small guilds little better than vigilante groups, tackling minor dungeons too insignificant for central Bureau response.

Estimate said under 10% were unregistered—which meant 90% fell under Bureau control. So there were no major hunter-on-hunter incidents, no wild civilian collateral, no economic overexploitation…

At least, so they claimed.

“Take mine.”

A quiet, subdued voice interjected.

“…What?”

I nearly responded in plain speech. Bowed low, head hidden, Wonu unclasped his necklace, pulling my hand open to lay it there. Even without looking I could feel every eye in the vicinity fix on us. Their stares were shamelessly direct.

Christ—this looked all wrong. Recovery-type gifts had long since become akin to proposal presents.

“No, it’s fine—”

But he was too strong. I couldn’t even retract my wrist. When I tried to ball my fist instead, he pinned my wrist and forced it open. The grip hurt like hell.

“Haha, really—it’s fine…”

I muttered between clenched teeth. My hand had gone chalk-pale. Even through gloves, I knew my knuckles were white as bone.

“Well now. Boy likes you, doesn’t he?”

No. For fuck’s sake, no.

I was near to tears. He set the necklace in my palm and released me. Pins and needles shot up my hand. Still, he looked smug, making me close my fist firmly on it as if it were a prize.

“Hyung, I’m sorry about earlier. Last night. You told me not to, but I acted anyway. I’ve thought since—and I was wrong. Acting without the other person’s consent isn’t okay.”

The shopkeeper woman clapped lightly behind me.
“I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it…”

I heard others shift, saw them exchange looks, mouthing let’s pretend we didn’t hear. Damn it—you *did.”

“Enough.”
“From now on I’ll ask permission—”
“Permission my ass. Enough means enough. Understood?”

A headache pounded through my skull. Who was the hunter here? Shouldn’t Guides be protected against hunters who cause them pain?

“Let’s drop it. Forget it ever happened.”
“So you’ve accepted my apology?”
“…That was an apology?”
“I read it online. You’re supposed to say what you did wrong, say sorry, and explain how you’ll act going forward.”
“Try studying phrasing next time.”
“What else should I study?”
“Study keeping quiet around me.”
“…What?”

I groaned. Knowing him, if I pushed that point, he’d probably draft banners declaring it, plastered in the Bureau lobby, scrawled in misleading words. I shook my head, muttered never mind.

“I won’t accept this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too precious. Look at the mana stone size—it’s worth…”
“Ten billion won.”

The shop owner cut in instantly.

“See? He says ten billion!”
“Kidding.”

Thank God. Because how could something that tiny…

“Just teasing. Probably worth more. You can’t buy these. Who’d sell? It doesn’t save lives—it only keeps breath hanging a little longer. That’s why it’s so rare.”
“So it saves lives?”
“No. It just extends the thread of fate a touch. But isn’t that enough? Still, where’d you get this? Didn’t you divert it illegally? Regulation says stones this size must be powdered for potions.”
“I extracted it. It’s mine.”

Wonu and the smith’s banter blurred into background buzz. My chest panged. God—I wanted it. But guilt gnawed hard. Eating or using anything he offered would feel like poison in my gut.

“Please. Keep it. Think of it as an apology.”
“Yeah, take it. Your boyfriend gave it to you, didn’t he?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”

But my head throbbed too much to argue. Sighing, I hung it around my neck.
“Fine. I’ll hold onto it. But if you ever need it, you tell me. I’ll consider it safekeeping.”

His face lit up. Easier to read than a board book, that one.

Tiring. Constant tug-of-war—with one pulling in, the other pulling away—stretching the rope taut but never snapping. Tension without release.

“We’ll observe another thirty minutes before pulling out.”

That was the officer in charge, a regular army captain, not Bureau. Military attitudes toward hunters split into two groups: older officers, who eyed them all as threats to one day cull, and younger ones, wavering between unease and grudging recognition. Were hunters considered teammates? Doubtful. Considered human? Even less clear.

I didn’t want to explore this further. No answer would come.

I glanced at Wonu—the boy who had just given me something beyond price. A biped, integrated into society, utterly incomprehensible.

“Hyung.”
“…Yes.”
“Your eye color’s really pretty. Did you know? I thought it was brown, but it’s like sunset.”
“I know. It’s an Awakening side-effect.”

Side-effects varied per person, but everyone bore one. Most, a shift in eye color. Some, hair. The intensity depended on the surge of one’s awakening—larger the upheaval, greater the change.

“Not lenses?”
“No. My eyes. Touch if you want.”

He leaned in, practically pressing his eyes forward. I recoiled. Up close, they were plain dark brown. The most common hue.

“Did it hurt, when you awakened?”

For reasons unknown, I asked him something I never had before. He tilted his head back, rummaging memory, then finally spoke.
“I don’t really remember. You?”
“I remember.”

Transformations blanked memories for most—passing out, blacking out. But me? I remembered vividly. Unluckily.

“It hurt like hell.”

And the night was freezing, though it was South Korea. White nights stretched endlessly. The earth upturned. People beside me collapsed, never to stand again. They were lucky—they lost consciousness. Lucky never to regain it. I stayed awake. Awake, yet immobilized.

“Does thinking of it still hurt?”
Sometimes.

But not now. Perhaps thanks to this necklace. I shook my head.
“Too busy to dwell on the past. Who has time?”
“I thought the same. But I dreamed. For the first time. A dream of the past.”
“Really?”

I wasn’t much interested. Expected him to tell some vague story. Instead—

“I dreamed of shaking your hand. And I knew, just from that, that you had to be my partner.”
“Ah—that. Guides usually touch hands for stabilization.”

I quickly added, afraid he’d twist it into fate.

“I thought it was destiny.”

Called it.

I strode ahead, leaving him muttering dreamily behind.

Ahead, the troops clustered, boarding military Humvees. Not the comfort of choppers—just jolting, uncomfortable rides. The Euljiro matter, mercifully, seemed done. Nobody complained. Dungeon breaks were like groundwater—impossible to predict where they’d erupt.