Being A Full-Time Employee C37

Chapter 37

“You came back alive after all—like a beggar’s performance.”
“…Your singing is atrocious.”

I muttered at the jarring voice. Kang, the Chief Doctor, burst into booming laughter. Waking up to his face and voice was bad enough—I squeezed my eyes tighter just to avoid acknowledging him.

“I know you’re awake.”
“…Did I die?”
“You think I’d let you? Don’t be stupid.”

It could have sounded romantic, but of course it wasn’t. Kang wasn’t afraid of losing me—he was afraid of losing data. I sneered.

“Right. If I’d died, you wouldn’t be here, would you? You’d be bound for hell. I’d be headed to heaven.”
“Hell, eh? Scenic. Blood and guts everywhere.”
“You do realize how much of a creep you sound, don’t you?”
“A man pouring his life into scientific progress for humanity, and you fling insults? Now, open your eyes.”

I sighed deeply and finally cracked them open. Hospital ward.

Ordinarily, with accelerated healing procedures, wards weren’t often used. The ranking system went like this: for guides, Step 1 was mild symptoms (a day or two inpatient max), Step 2 required accelerated treatment, Step 3 required full hospitalization even after acceleration. Since my side had been ripped and my skull split, blood loss massive, surviving only off chemical stimulants—I’d landed in Step 3.

“Treatment’s done. Even removed that burn scar on your side.”
“Lucky me. I was unconscious, then.”
“Oh? No. You woke once.”
“….”
“In a lot of pain. Then passed out again.”

Did he need to tell me that? My jaw clenched at his sadism. Still—better alive than not.

“How long am I stuck here?”
“Four days, internal injuries. Let’s see… your longest stay was… two weeks? Right, back when acceleration was brand-new. You couldn’t see for two weeks. Must’ve been inconvenient. You still worked then.”
“I don’t care to revisit that.”
“Because your partner died that time? Did you ever talk it through? PTSD lingers.”
“….”
“Want me to let you take a swing at me?”

I bristled, sat upright despite tearing pain in my side, every neuron intent on smacking him. He leaned closer, daring me. And he could, because striking him meant a five-year Bureau contract minimum—no pay. Kang held that kind of weight. Alive, he ruled this institution—a tyrant.

“What did you fill time with then? Volunteer work?”
“….”
“‘Interim guiding tests for hunters without assigned partners.’”

His grin widened as he shuffled loose papers, then puffed out:

“Guide Yang… do you believe in destiny?”

My hands clenched the sheet white-knuckle. My head pounded. Someone, anyone, remove this man.

“No. Not when the question comes from you.”

I’d loathed the word since I was a child. If destiny existed, then my family’s deaths, my neighborhood’s obliteration, the arbitrary survival of me and Seung-gyu—all were predetermined. Meaningless suffering. Something I couldn’t accept.

Kang laughed loud. His throat bobbed in a way that made me want to punch it like a boxer’s mitt.

“I don’t believe either! But—someone does. You know who.”
“…You came here to make my condition worse? Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

Finally, I snapped and spat at him.

“Your fatalism or his means nothing to me. Visitors without invitation should leave.”
“…Aren’t you curious at all—about Wonu?”

My hand froze an inch from the nurse call button. Kang often seemed to ramble madness, but nothing he said was meaningless.

I tried parsing—why string fate and Wonu together? My brain didn’t spin as smoothly as his.

“Hear you thinking. Still, you won’t remember. So. Do me a favor—and I’ll tell you about Wonu.”
“Just tell me straight.”
“If not, I’ll do it. Anything not on record, I’ll share. But I’m broke.”

Useless noise.

“Don’t be nervous. Just one dungeon run. I’ll even supply insider data. Information only people like me know.”
“No. If doing you one favor means a morgue slab next, forget it.”
“Listen to how threatening you sound.” He tsked and crossed his legs. Like he was gossiping at a café:

“Alright then. Straight talk. Got anything new to say on the dungeon? Data collection ongoing.”
“…Ask the raid team.”
“I want your POV.”
“My early memory’s gone. Later was nothing unique. Why not question Hunter Chae instead?”
“Because Wonu barely talks to me.”
“…Why? Did you wrong him somehow?”

Tension surged. Kang’s grin snapped cold. I didn’t avert my stare, though my wound felt like it would burst. Bile rose in my throat.

“…Fine.” He broke first. “Data’s incomplete anyway. I’ll ask later. Rest well, Guide Yang. There’s juice in the fridge.”

He rose.

I called after him, the one question that had dogged me inside the dungeon:

“The grade shifted, the ecology was different. And the core wasn’t fixed—it was a moving monster. Special case, or…?”

“The dungeons are evolving,” he said flatly. No sense of responsibility, though humanity was his charge.

“Think of them growing. Aren’t you curious how?”
“Christ. Eat shit.”

I turned away. He mumbled something about recent fillings preventing sticky foods.

That was the real monster—the man who reduced hunters and guides to data points. No matter if the world fell into ruin, he would watch in awe, scribbling notes.

How could we ever be the monsters? Right, Wonu?

I collapsed back into dreams, drugged down. My limbs heavy, wrists swollen from drip injections.

When I woke again, Seung-gyu was peeling an apple, Hyung-min sucking away at juice beside him.

“Look at that face. Like a giant watermelon.”
“At least the most handsome watermelon. Gift us money for visitation.”

I lifted the bedframe as Seung-gyu shoved apple directly in my mouth. Crunching, I nursed a throbbing head, overslept soreness.

“Where’s your partner?” Seung-gyu gnawed seed-slick flesh, like gnawing ribs. He wore new sunglasses tucked into his shirt. I eyed them silently, remembered his past fakes. He puffed his chest, grinning: real this time.

“Don’t know. Busy, probably.”

Curt. I reached for another slice. Hyung-min offered with a foil-toothpick.

“I asked for rabbit-apple slices, but the shop owner refused.”
“He hates peel. He’s picky, even if he doesn’t look it,” Seung-gyu rumbled.
“Really? I figured you’d like cute-cut fruit, sir. Still, not a surprise!”
“What about me? I like rabbit apples,” Seung-gyu angled hopefully.

I chewed silently, watching their nonsense.

“Sir, I know you value looks. You’re handsome yourself.” Hyung-min beamed.

“…Here.”

I tossed him one of Kang’s bottles—aloe juice, the good kind. Classic glass.

“Thank you! But weird—I thought you’d eat anything. I mean that as a compliment! Means you aren’t picky.”

Strange kid. Too earnest, without guile, almost disarming.

I laughed aloud. Seung-gyu scowled, shoved apple into the kid’s mouth.

“Min, don’t run your mouth all over. Do this gig once and quit. Trust me—you won’t keep ties peaceful long.”
“Huh? My partner treats me so well. We’re model-perfect.”
“Is that so? Give me the room number. I’ll send them dried fish on holidays.”