Being A Full-Time Employee C36

Chapter 36

I asked Wonu,
“Hunter Chae, can you leave this section intact?”

I was pointing at the circular water barrier he’d raised around us.

“For a short while, yes.”
“Then we push as close as we can, then rush all at once.”
“…That’s your plan?”
“If it’s not you, there isn’t much we can do. Once we reach that point, you make stepping platforms—we climb, stab down.”
“We don’t even know the exact target point!”
“So what? That slime’s part of the monster. The esper’s power doesn’t work without contact. What, we just give up without trying?”
“…Unbelievable.”
“I’ll assist. Let’s move.”

There was no time for long debate. We pressed forward while Wonu steadily shrank the diameter of the water circle. I pulled another guide’s canteen without asking, poured out the half left. Then dumped mine—ridiculous, only a single drop.

“Used it wiping your blood,” Wonu said blandly. Wrong moment for calm words like that.

Thankfully the esper also emptied his, enough volume to make use. Wonu spread the pooled water.

“This barrier holds fifty seconds. Barely.” He whispered. I clenched my teeth, nodded silently. Not for the rest of the team to hear.

We reached the massive trunk. Wonu split the water into three, layering steps. I boosted the guide first, then climbed after. The three-step cycle carried us upward like a shifting staircase.

“Stick to it!”

The guide stabbed both blades into the monster’s skin. I did the same. The shriek brayed loud enough to rupture eardrums.

The baobab beast convulsed, suddenly sucking torrents of slime and spores back into its body, pulling them up its trunk-like legs.

We slid along its rough hide, scaling sideways. Above me, the esper’s partner clung with knives. I dangled, drawing the loaded flare gun. No safety catch needed.

“One! Two!” the guide called.
“Three!”

We fired together. Heat and light burst, recoil throwing us back.

“Ugh…!”

My side flared agony—my grip slipped. Black fog pressed my vision. Hands sliding off my knife, descending in slow motion.

Didn’t think I’d die by falling.

But an arm locked my waist.

“I won’t let you die.”

His teeth-ground whisper: Wonu’s voice.

He balanced on a narrow water-step below, one arm chained around me tight, the other raising a jagged-edged blade of hardened water.

He plunged it into the wound I’d created, between torn flesh.

“―――!”

An inhuman scream rattled the ground. Wonu planted feet into its hide, vaulted, pressed the blade in deeper by stomping.

“Aahhh—!”

My own scream ripped free helplessly. So much pain—masked by the monster’s wails. His water-forged knife sank nearly out of sight.

He tumbled in air like a circus acrobat, dragging us with him. My arms coiled his waist, bracing again. Still no clearing light—not dead yet.

He clenched his fist. The water-blade inside the beast dissolved into scales, detonating within.

“Jump clear!”

I roared to the guide. He hurled himself back.

Blood erupted, spraying. Wonu shaped umbrellas to catch our feet, slowing descent.

We hit ground, stumbled to the esper—collapsed sideways. Before I could check him, Wonu raised a dome of blood over us. Detonation shook our shelter.

I was glad not to see the horror outside.

“…How did you know the point I struck was the core?” I asked, panting. We had made two attempts; luck alone chose success.

He looked at me. Stated plainly:
“Whose strike would I choose, if not yours?”

Not a bad answer. Exhilarating, even. Dopamine and adrenaline pummeled my brain. The primal hum of survival and dominance—brightened with the high of being chosen by him.

I laughed, ugly sound. Grabbed his hair, dragged his face in. His scalp must have stung, but he didn’t fight back. Thin blood from his wound dripped to our mouths. The kiss tasted vile.

Our heartbeats matched—mine climbing to his feverish pitch. So what, I thought. We clung, body heat binding.

“I don’t do this with an audience,” I muttered as sense half-returned.

“I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this either,” he panted, shoving lips back to mine.

Not words for “business partners.” But with others watching, we had already kissed like lovers glued together. No more lines left to keep.

Never in all my partners before had rules been so impossible to hold. Easy to blame the boy who’d never followed them.

So I gave up—tongues, teeth, foul taste worsened by blood and smoke. The most aroused I’d ever been nonetheless.

Silence fell. Then static cracked alive in our ear-comms:

—Combat team, confirm. Dungeon cleared.

The red dome peeled away. A clear autumn sky spilled down. Cool air in place of stifling heat.

I slumped backward. The dungeon zone expired, lesser mobs corroding into dust. Agents in hazmat rushed, scooping pieces of the monster core into protective cages before decomposition erased it.

Survivors—us—looked at each other. I smiled weary relief. The esper’s partner did not. His tone was grim:

“Weren’t you supposed to maintain shield around the esper?”

I looked between him, Wonu.

“Why was it dropped?”

“I’m fine. Enough…” the esper rasped. But his feet betrayed him—boots dissolved, flesh beneath black-purple, rotted.

“Medic! Here!” I shouted.

The guide said nothing more, but fury bent his shoulders as he lifted the esper. Before turning, the esper paused once, murmuring:

“…At least we lived.”

That was all.

I’d assumed survival meant we could drink together, share names—but no.

Wonu propped my weight as I rose. I pushed him off, glaring.

“You dispelled the barrier?”
“If not, how could we attack? Steps alone weren’t enough. You saw—flares tore the hide, nothing deeper.”
“That hunter nearly died.”
“Hunters die in dungeons all the time.”
“….”
“And I’m not his partner. I’m yours. Your survival was all that mattered.”

His honesty chilled me. No lie in him then.

My back crawled. Echoes of taunts rang: How many hunters has he killed? But worse was my agreement—I felt he was right. Without him dropping that shield, we’d have all been dead.

Correct… but.

Suddenly dizziness crushed me. Vision tilted forty-five degrees.

“Hyung!”

His voice echoed, not one but a chorus: Hyung, hyung, hyung…

“Is it okay if I call you hyung?”

A boyish voice flickered in memory. Familiar, unfamiliar. Where did I hear you… was my last thought before everything fell dark.