Being A Full-Time Employee C32

Chapter 32

I bit down hard on Wonu’s fingers, then kissed him—if it could even be called that. His tongue was weak, unresponsive; my own movements felt more like desperate flailing than a real kiss.

“This isn’t working.”

I muttered anxiously, letting my forehead rest against his trembling shoulder. Holding him so close, I could feel every irregular, frantic beat of his heart.

“Is someone in there? If you’re in trouble, say so! Please open the door!”

A staff member was banging from outside. We couldn’t stay. I cupped his face, kissed him again, forced him to meet eyes.

“We have to move. Hold it together.”
“No one gets hurt.”

His voice was faint as a sigh. I shoved the supplies aside with my foot, flung the door open, and pulled him with me.

Gripping his hand tight, we ran. Even staggering, he kept up. My other hand worked furiously at my phone, booking the nearest hotel.

When we burst outside, rain was crashing down. No forecast had warned of it. This wasn’t a drizzle—it was buckets.

If only we had the luxury of ducking into a café to wait it out. But we didn’t. My outing, our leaves, ruined. And his skin burned hotter through my hand than ever, a fever racing through. That heart should’ve ruptured a human vessel by now.

Grinding my teeth, I waved frantically for a taxi. He was clinging to sanity by force of will—I had to match it with everything I could give. The driver asked why not just walk the short distance.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll pay whatever. Just get us there fast. As fast as possible.”

We reached the hotel. It had been the closest. I slung his arm across my shoulders, hauling him into the room, dumping him onto the bed.

Carrying someone taller and packed with solid muscle… it was no easy thing.

The moment his body hit mattress, he rolled onto his side, curling in on himself. Clenched teeth, his body shook. Anyone with a pulse would’ve felt pity at the sight. But sympathy wasn’t what he needed. Not cocoa. Not empty comfort.

He needed survival.

I chewed my lips until they bled and raided the amenities tray.

“Oil. Where’s oil.”

Most places had only lotion, but fortune cut us slack—massage oil glinted there. I swept the rest to the floor, crouched by him.

“Hunter Chae.”

“….”

His huge eyes barely cracked, glazed wet. He saw me, but he didn’t cry.

I’d seen Hunters break down sobbing, screaming for parents, thrashing until sedated. I’d seen them swear they felt their insides screaming with fire, or say they glimpsed entire universes in shock. The pain itself, they said, was madness. Enough to drive anyone insane.

But Wonu did not cry.

“Wonu…”

I whispered his name. Skipped the title. His gaze almost, barely, focused back.

“I’ll make it so it doesn’t hurt.”

Even if the method wasn’t pretty. Even if it blurred consent, blurred affection, into primal mechanics closer to violence. Neither of us had the choice not to do this.

Our eyes locked. Then our bodies.

“Still raining?”

His tired voice drifted from the bed, not even opening eyes. The curtains stirred.

“Yes. Still raining.”
“…Thought it was just a shower.”

Fabric scraped shut again. Footsteps padded over.

I lay sprawled, too drained to open my eyes. My energy wasn’t gone—but exhaustion weighed down more than my frame. Rain itself, maybe. Or guiding at breaking point. The mattress dipped under his weight.

“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“…Because of me.”

“What, apologizing because I did my job? Don’t bother. Keep it.”

My throat felt raw, heavy. Guiding always felt like being wrung dry afterward. Even sex-for-itself would’ve.

I rolled, opening eyes. He lay below me now, face solemn.

“…I’m naked?”
“Your clothes were soaked. I sent to laundry.”
“Right. Fair. Wear shirts more. They suit you.”
“…So you can strip them off faster?”
“No. Because you look good in them.”

I chuckled. Flicked at the edge of the hotel robe on him. Stretched, joints cracking loudly, aching awkwardness. I let the bedding coax me, luxurious down I hadn’t touched in years.

“Figures.”
“What does?” His sulking tone matched the pout on his lips. Shoulders hunched, unhappy—but his chest was still rigid, anger charging through his body, as if ready to fight even now.

I licked dry lips.

When had I last done this because I wanted to, not because I had to? Couldn’t recall. Maybe never.

Still, even fatigued, the embers of want stirred.

“…Damn. Must be age catching me.”

I muttered, fumbling for my phone. The battery blinked nearly dead. I fired off the bare minimum—location, short “situation stabilized” to Bureau management.

“We should order breakfast.”
“…Yes.”
“Quickly. Time’s almost up.”

He said nothing, while I sent the report. Falling flat, I sprawled out and muttered under my breath, Hotel beds. Worth every penny. I promised myself I’d buy one, someday, if I ever had a real place to live again.

But his face appeared suddenly overhead. Still sulky. He shoved his phone screen to me.

“Too many items to choose. What do you want?”

High-maintenance partner. I snatched the device, tapped my choices, handed back.

“And you?”
“…Whatever you eat.”

Maybe it wasn’t only me whose mind had shifted after what we’d crossed. He crawled behind me, curling in place, arms circling my chest. Whispering into my shoulder, anything you eat is delicious.

“…At this rate, your entire taste will just shift to mine.”
“I don’t mind. Tell me what cologne you use.”
“I don’t.”
“…So it’s just your body that smells this good?”
“…You’re insane.”
“But was that line good?”
“No. It was cheap. Gross.”

I barked with laughter, shoved free—failed. His gorilla-long arms had me pinned in seconds. His face hovered near, eyes melancholy.

“…I don’t remember well. Yesterday. It makes me angry.”
“How unfortunate. I remember very well.”
“Then what if only you remember?”
“Not worth cherishing anyway. We just both did our respective duties as Guide and Hunter.”
“You always treat it like that?”
“What else—think about lunch mid-act?”
“…If that’s how it is for me, I’d hate it. But if it was with all your partners? Then I love it.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Don’t treat me like the others, hyung. Please.”

His childish plea rolled out as he suddenly hugged me tight.

He didn’t know the difference between work relationship and personal boundaries. Miscast the genre we were in. Mistook it for romance.

Old me would’ve cursed, shoved him off in disgust.

But now, I didn’t. Not because he shook with desperate strength, not because his breath bled faster into my skin.

Just because… sometimes, there didn’t need to be a reason.