Being A Full-Time Employee C20

Chapter 20

Muttering disjointed complaints under my breath, I rifled through the kitchen. We had stocked up plenty but the cupboards were crammed mostly with snacks—and the problem was, the one who’d filled that cart never stepped foot in here.

I gathered up the neglected, soon-to-expire snacks into a wooden fruit bowl, placed it in front of Wonu’s closed door, and grabbed my cigarettes and lighter. Something round filled my pocket when I shoved them in—a tangerine.

Had he eaten dinner tonight? I hesitated, then set the tangerine atop the snacks like an offering. And left the dorm.

The smoking booth was empty. Streetlights gave it a respectable glow. The night was chilly—too cold for just a field jacket. My lighter sparked its wheel over and over, gas nearly spent, before finally catching flame, numbing my frozen fingertips.

I wasn’t a heavy smoker, more the type to work through one cigarette slowly. Exhaling pale smoke like sighs, I startled when the booth door swung open.

“…”
“…”

Of course. Terrible timing. The man entering was a hunter I had once traded words of friction with in the hallway. His lip was split, maybe from close-quarters training.

I smiled politely, tilted my chin. Maybe he’d ignore me. Instead, he flinched, then gave a reflexive nod.

Better smoke this quick.

Cheeks hollowed, I burned it fast. Beside me, he flicked open a silver zippo. Even without looking, the click gave it away.

“Hey.”

His voice was rough—pleasant, but unusual. He spoke.

“Hm, yes?”

Maybe, in a year, he’d be my partner. Better to answer amiably.

“Doesn’t Chae Wonu cling to you obsessively?”

“…You ask that without preamble?”

“Looks like you’re set on leaving the second your cigarette burns to the filter. So may as well get to the point, right?”

Hunters, so often impatient. Because death could come today or tomorrow. All right—it was a fair assessment.

I said nothing, waiting.

“He’s not your first Guide.”
“I assumed. But it must not have worked with any of them. That’s why until now he had none.”

I tapped ash into the tray, smiling.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t know, did you? I may not be close, but I know at least that much.”

“Do you know what it’s like—for a hunter to go without a partner, for years?”

“Guide here. I can guess, but understand? Impossible.”

Even between people, perfect understanding never exists.

He growled back, irritated.
“Wonu’s a freak. No hunter in the Bureau, no hunter in Korea’s history, has been on stabilizers longer than him. And then comes you. You think he’ll ever let you go easily? No way.”

“Aw, worrying about me? How sweet.”

Cigarette half-gone. But it didn’t feel enough. For the first time, I wanted to chain-smoke.

“Not worry. I warn you.”

The growl had that peculiar timbre again. Looking sideways, I saw under the lamplight a thick scar slashed across his throat, ten centimeters at least, the kind depth that shredded the vocal cords.

“If you can… break contract. If not, survive the year and run.”

“I’ll handle it.”

I snuffed the butt fully down to the filter’s char, sparked another. He smirked like I was a fool. Then spat claws of words.

“Did you hear? That bastard—killed hunters. Five or six, maybe.”

“….”

“Not an accident, either.”

“Hey.”

I turned with my polite, public smile.

“You came here to smoke, right? Shame. Yours is already ash.”

“…”

“Then just smoke. And leave talk out of it.”

Damn it. Taste ruined. I stood on habit, tongued the ash tip against my tongue until it hissed, dropped it into the tray.

“Enjoy your night.”

Mine was ruined.

I pushed open the door to leave. Normally, I’d just have walked. But something turned, under the full moon.

“Why the fuck do you people always single him out as the monster? You think I don’t know plenty of cases—hunters killing hunters? Call it accident, call it intent. You think none of you are stained?”

The words poured out, hot and fierce.

“To them out there, to the civilians, we’re all monsters. You. Me. Him.”

Breathless, I stared. Relief? No. If anything, worse. Lungs tight. Chest aflame. I raked my hair back, jabbed a finger at him.

“I’ll finish the year. I’ll take hazard pay. But don’t talk about him to me again. Unless it’s his words, or official records—I don’t want to know. Spoilers, bastard.”

I slammed the booth door behind me, leaving him gaping.

I walked, dragging air like knives. Bent my face into my palms, stifled a shout till it broke in silence. Pulled my hands down, whispered—wash, soap, erase…

“…”

And there he was.

Chae Wonu.

Had he heard? Of course he had. Their senses peaked even outside zones.

A beat of silence. A game of chicken. Who would speak first? Finally—

“…A tangerine.”

He lifted his hand. The unblemished landscaping lights made the fruit glimmer softly.

“Thanks.”

That… was what he came to say? That—when inside, a man was spilling all about his obsession, his murders?

I sighed, shallowly, careful not to let him hear. Stepped forward, plucked the fruit. Split the peel with a thumb in one neat squeeze. Citrus burst out. I gave him half.

“A whole tangerine would be wasted on a roommate who never says good morning.”

He grinned. And yes—he was pretty. Lit by orange glow, dark lashes edged with dreamscape. A cotton-candy killer.

“…Let’s go back. It’s cold.”
“At times like this, I wish my power was fire.”
“Please no. Someone like you with fire? The firefighters would cry.”

He laughed, and no one could imagine that laugh belonging to someone accused of murdering fellow hunters.

Time to admit it. I was curious. Too curious to keep him in mere “business boundaries.”

Back inside. Smoke still clinging. Each time I tried to pull away, he sidled close. “I’m warm,” he said, and yes. He was. Only in shortsleeves in the night chill.

Then, anticlimactic—right to his door. About to lock himself in again. Before I could stop, I called—

“Hunter Chae.”
“Yes.”

I had no words prepared. Just… he’d been plastering himself to my side constantly. Then suddenly a lock, cold shoulders. It didn’t sit right. Wouldn’t I question anyone—coworker, classmate—if they pulled just like that?

So I made my excuse. Spoke stern.

“We need our matching training.”
“…”
“From the start, skipping meant trouble. That should never have happened.”
“But it worked, didn’t it?”
“What if it was luck? Or drug remnants keeping you stable? Now that you’re off them? Next fight, what if I give you only twenty percent?”

He broke gaze, fingers on the knob. I caught his wrist, leaned close.

“Three days. I’ll move it up. Don’t dodge again.”
“…You knew I was avoiding?”
“How could I not? You’re clumsy at strange things. Just… be yourself.”

He nodded, wilted. I watched his bowed head, suddenly voiced the thought—

“…Is it because you don’t like me?”