Being A Full-Time Employee C25

Chapter 25

“I’ll go too.”
“Suit yourself. Now open your mouth again. And stop keeping your tongue so stiff.”

I traced over the soft lining of his mouth once more. His tongue clumsily wrapped around mine—awkward but strangely endearing. Ridiculous. Cute. I nearly laughed but forced it down, counting seconds in my head. “21, 20, 19… 20, 19… 19…” Damn it. I lost count. At this point—I didn’t care anymore.

Does a single kiss really change the world? If that were true, the world would have already reshaped itself in trillions by now. Even though humanity’s shrunk to two-thirds of what it was, back when nearly eight billion people walked this planet, someone must have been kissing at any given second. And yet the world carried on unchanged.

Kisses didn’t alter a thing.

I kicked my shoes off with tired thuds. Each step inside felt heavier than it should. The exhaustion in my body was doubled by wave after wave of emotional battles.

“I’m sleeping.”

Even forcing out that much took effort. Eyes already half-closed, I trudged to my room—until my wrist was suddenly seized. Spinning, I saw Wonu himself look startled at what he’d done, throwing both hands up in surrender.

“Sorry. I almost clung like a fool.”
“……It was my mistake, too, kissing you when it wasn’t even for guiding. So here’s my apology.”

I could imagine why he was about to say something like that. So I gave him an apology I didn’t mean. It was easier to manage if I thought of him like a child. Then again… that meant I’d just kissed a kid, hadn’t I? No. Better to imagine him as some weird boy who’d fallen out of the stars.

I turned, ready to leave. His face twisted—lost, pitiful.

“I know. I do. But hearing an apology like that… it makes me feel strange.”
“…”
“Makes me feel like I’m a fucking idiot.”
“…Then what does that make me? A fucking bastard.”
“Should I… be honest instead?”
“That’s not what I meant—”

I scratched my head, irritated, then finally dragged my heavy body forward and hooked my finger into the corner of his lips, pulling it upward.

“Just be a little less blunt. Sometimes you’re like a truck—you come at me head on. It’s too much.”
“Miaaane…” (he slurred “Sorry” childishly).
“It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me. Honestly, it’s kind of refreshing. You’re a character I’ve never met before.”

Felt sort of like trying to clear a difficult romance-sim game. Funny. I’d never touched one of those in my life.

I laughed, tapped his cheek lightly. He was young, after all—his skin had that soft, springy firmness.

“I’m going to bed. You should too. Just… not more strange videos or weird thoughts, yeah?”

He wilted. Headed back to his own room. I waggled my hand playfully, sending him off with a smile. He nodded from the doorway, pressed his wide-spread fingers together as if to wave back. A finger-wave.

The instant his door shut, I all but crawled into bed.

“God, I’m dead.”

I fell flat across the mattress at a diagonal. Didn’t even manage to straighten out before my eyes dropped shut and I was gone.

There are days—you know them. When you just jerk awake out of nowhere, with no alarm, no noise. Today was one of those.

“—Hhht!”

Literally gasping awake, I sat up groggy, limbs leaden. The drugs had worn off. My body ached everywhere, not just my arm. Stretching the side that wasn’t splinted, I tried to settle back into bed when that sensation crawled up my skin—déjà vu, no, dread. Hair-on-end dread.

I stumbled out into the living room.

“Hunter Chae Wonu?”

Still rubbing sleep from my eyes, I muttered his full title. I half-expected to see him out there floating spheres of water again in his sleep. Instead, silence.

I hated the thought. I hated intruding in private quarters. But this unease would not let me go until I saw for myself.

“God, I really don’t want to…”

Muttering curses, I stepped carefully toward his door. When my hand pressed to it, I felt damp.

“I fucking knew it.”

I muffled a groan, scrubbing my face with both hands. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to check. He’d stopped taking the suppressant—and what he’d pressed down all that time was bound to rebound. The voice in my head wasn’t sixth sense, just bitter experience.

I turned, fetched a pot from the kitchen. If needed, I’d… improvise. Splinted arm held lid like a shield, pot in the other. I pushed the knob with my elbow and cracked the door.

Quiet.

No immediate blast of danger. I lowered the shield.

“…Chae Wonu?” I whispered. “Hunter?”

No answer.

Slipping inside, I saw it: dewdrops clinging to ceiling corners, window frames, even the lamp. Nothing else. No spheres poised for attack. No threat.

I touched the window. My fingertips came away damp, squeaking. I rested pot and lid down on the desk.

Only a bed. A desk. A couple books stacked. No shelves, no decoration. Everything looked provided for appearance’s sake.

I approached. He groaned in his sleep. A nightmare.

“Uhh…”

With each pained sound, droplets swelled from metal hinges, pooling like fat tears across surfaces.

It was stupid, sentimental. But to me, it looked like the room itself was crying. His body dry, face clear—but tears sprouting all around him.

“What kind of damn nightmare is that.”

I didn’t lower my voice. He didn’t stir anyway. Night without the suppressant meant this; even if he slept—his body twisted, nerves tight, dreams vicious. And why, when he already had a functioning partner-guide, did he think he had to drug himself…

I wasn’t here for self-righteous lectures though. Not here to scold and smugly confirm how right I was.

I slipped my hands in my pockets, stared. Then quietly slid into bed beside him.

He clutched the blanket to his chin like a child, leaving little to steal. Fine. I turned toward him, laid my splinted arm over his chest, slipped my good arm under his neck, and pressed my hand to his cheek. To his throat.

Contact was quicker this way. The unstable rhythm of his heart hammered under my fingers. My own chest jolted painfully, in sympathy.

It took time. I pressed closer, warmth against him. His ragged heartbeat gradually synced and leveled with mine, the spikes softening into a steady pattern. Relief… though icy numbness crept along my limbs as it always did.

“Hunter Chae.”

I kept him pressed tight, forehead against his hairline now. His face lost its strain, his breathing eased.

“Why can’t you even sleep right, making me worry like this?” I murmured it low.

He shifted. The blanket slipped. He turned, curling around me.

It meant nothing. Just instinct—seeking warmth, anchoring against what his body recognized as safe. But I, for some reason, sighed and tucked his head under my chin, arm circling tighter.

My palm brushed the wallpaper. No fresh drops there, just slickness, like water-repellant coat. Of course this room was built for him—custom-tailored to contain.

Had it always been? Had he lived here alone, always, in this twin dorm while the others shared?

That lonely thought tightened my chest.

“You’re a fucking handful, you know that? I’m the one injured here.”

I cursed into his hair, stroking down his back. He chuckled faintly—or snored, or mumbled. Either way, the nightmare seemed to have ended.

What did someone like him dream? This boy who could face monsters like experiments…

“I’ve never let myself grow curious about anyone. Strange.”

It was me awake at night brooding, not him. Tugging my hood over my head, I finally let myself slide under.

Soon I dreamed, too—a vast water bubble collapsing around me, pulling me under. It wasn’t choking. It wasn’t cold. It was comfort.

Light woke me, stabbing my eyelids. Odd—curtains hung, why was sunlight direct? Until I remembered this wasn’t my room.

“Ah shit.”