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    Chapter 30

     

    The instructor clearly had a talent for devising cooperative battle tactics, but he was absolutely terrible at explaining them. Honestly, unless he drew diagrams, we’d only ever understand about 70% of what he was telling us.

    He blew his whistle, signaling the end of break time, leaving no chance to clarify his convoluted strategies. Cracking my neck to shake off stiffness, I caught sight of Wonu in the corner of my vision.

    “
Jealous.”

    He wasn’t subtle. Staring daggers at me with an openly sulky face—it was almost cute. No doubt it was because he had stormed off earlier, but pride kept him from bringing it up now. A part of me felt oddly let down that he hadn’t staked his usual claim, “Legally, hyung belongs to me.”

    “Keeping that pout this long
 It’ll be troublesome.”

    Maybe I should smooth things over.

    “Do you like movies?”

    Fresh from the showers, Wonu looked down at me like I’d just asked nonsense. Wait—looked down? Flustered, I turned him around and pressed close to measure.

    “What are you doing?”
    “Just a sec.”

    Even without exact measurement, I could feel it—he’d grown taller.

    “You’ve grown.”
    “
Really?”

    It was his own body and yet he didn’t even care. I could only laugh faintly, still incredulous that he was somehow still growing. He twisted his towel into a rope and replied casually:

    “I like them.”
    “
What?”
    “You asked if I like movies.”
    “
Right. That was the question
”

    For a second, because of his phrasing and my distraction about his height, it had sounded like a confession. Embarrassing myself, I rubbed my face with both hands.

    “If you’ve got nothing to say, I’ll be going.”
    “Wait—are you sulking?”
    “You think I’m sulking because you stuck by the instructor? No.”

    He hadn’t said that—but I shut my mouth before I could argue. Why did he like me so much? Was I his type? Or was it simply proximity, time together? But then again, no. He’d been charging at me without brakes from the very first day.

    “Well—the movie. If you don’t like them, I’ll drop it. But if you do
 how about going together on our next leave?”
    “
Including the instructor?”
    “Are you insane?!”

    Merely imagining it—sitting sandwiched between Wonu and that instructor—was nightmare enough.

    “Just us. Only us.”

    And judging by the shy curve sneaking back to his lips, I knew I’d hooked him. The very lips I’d thought beautiful from the start—I touched them with my thumb before realizing what I’d done.

    “
Then let’s go.”

    I cursed internally for my impulsive gesture but kept my voice calm. Wonu nodded. I stepped past him stiffly.

    “I’ll go ahead.”

    He gazed after me, those clear eyes following. I reminded myself—we lived together. I’d done right to cool the sulking before it lingered. Tilting my chin, I muttered back:

    “Come on. Juice isn’t dinner. Let’s get food.”
    “I’ll make it this time. Learned cooking.”
    “Really? What can you make?”
    “Kimchi fried rice. I’ll try.”

    His grave tone made my stomach tighten in apprehension.
    “
Not can make, but will try? Eh, whatever. Fine.”

    We talked it over like nothing happened. I belatedly realized that his maiden foray into joint combat drills had been recent, and it floored me—but then calmed. It made sense. He hadn’t had a partner before. That also explained the bizarre chaos of his fighting style when we’d first entered a dungeon together.

    I felt guilty. He wasn’t malicious—just full of empty spaces, blank puzzle squares people mistook as flaws. If his cube was incomplete, it wasn’t his fault. In truth, he might be a far better person than I gave him credit for.

    My hope that his cooking would be passable was crushed mercilessly. Catastrophic. I nearly spent our leave scrapped by food poisoning. Oversalted, over-spiced—nuclear fuel disguised as fried rice. Only the toughness of our bodies saved us; we were back to normal by evening.

    So it passed as another clumsy little incident. By the time leave neared, I found myself picking clothes. Three sweatshirts, one hoodie on the bed. Black jeans already worn. Pathetic selection.

    It couldn’t be helped. When not at the Bureau, I lived with evacuation alerts screaming at random, never even sure if my place would still stand when I returned. Why invest in expensive things? Travel light or be buried.

    “
Past me should’ve bought more colors at least.”

    All I had: gray, black, navy so dark it was almost black, and one sweatshirt warped into a weird hue from bad laundry cycles. In the end, I layered a white tee with the navy sweatshirt.

    “Ridiculous, caring this much.”

    Phone and wallet in back pocket, I stepped out—just as Wonu, buttoning his watch, looked up. From the angle, it seemed classic. But no, just another smart watch, not mission-issued.

    “You wear that off-base too? I hate even the sight of smarts.”

    He shrugged, in a plain white shirt, but snug enough to show his frame clearly. Strong shoulders, long clean lines, perfect proportions. Usually hidden under oversized tees—I stared too long. Stupid. Out of character for me. I scratched my head. Did I look too sloppy by comparison?

    Another voice inside slapped me. We’re just going out. Relax, idiot.

    “Hyung, cute.”

    “Don’t.”

    I flinched. He paused.

    “I just meant like
 small-talk, first-meeting kind of flattery. Like when someone introduces you.”
    “Then let’s call this an introduction.”
    “
Among ourselves? And who introduced us anyway?”
    “You know. The Bureau.”
    “
.”
    “Or the President?”

    I groaned, heading to the shoe rack. Already, the earlier tension faded to something faint and far away. Behind, he chattered steadily in his oddly slow pace:

    “But no, I want something else. Not some introduction—”

    When I’d tied my shoes and rose, I grabbed his shoulder, pulled—crashed my lips into his.

    His lips fit mine like designed parts. My tongue pressed between, sharp and purposeful. His arms tightened at my waist instantly.

    “You’re panting more. And you—who can run past my breaking point unscathed—aren’t out of breath from chattering. So. Fever?”
    “
I think it’s heat.”
    “Figures. But we’re still going, movie tickets booked. An hour left—too late to cancel.”
    “I’ll go. Even if I die after—I’ll go.”
    “Great. Then I’ll leave you behind.”

    Instead, he lunged this time. I eased my lips, missed the timing, and his tongue pushed in. Hotter than ever, feverish, awkward. Messy but more stirring than any “perfect” kiss.

    Once, I’d kissed hunters famed for being deadly passionate. While they lit sparks, I just checked the time over their shoulders.

    With him? Even knowing how hard the tickets were—I almost didn’t care about the movie at all.

    I admitted it. I was excited.

    If this was the line-blurring danger between Guide and Hunter, it was perilous.
    If this was chemical reaction between Yang Baekgyeom and Chae Wonu
 it was perilous too.

    By any theory, we were dangerous.

    Footnotes

    Âč “Legally yours” joke – Wonu often repeats that by Bureau law, their partnership binds them, using it to “claim” Baekgyeom.

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