Being A Full-Time Employee C38

Chapter 38

“What, I don’t get a gift?”
“You? Do you know how hard childcare is? I’m sending these two off because raising brats like this is tough.”
“My partner’s a brat, too.”
“Really? I ran into them for a second, but they didn’t seem like it.”

I frowned. How could you have seen my partner, when I haven’t seen a single hair on their head?
“Where did you see them?”
“Outside your hospital room.”
“Then why’d you ask where my partner was?”
“I wondered if your nasty personality was making your partner waste time in the hallway on account of you. Was just having some fun. I should send some dried fish to your partner too; whatever you did, your partner can’t even come into your room.”

I had plenty to say, but didn’t. I stabbed a toothpick into the plate so hard it went through like a bubble tea straw. Seunggyu smirked at Hyungmin.
“See? That’s why I say use disposable plates.”

The lively, uninvited visit ended. Alone, I stared at the quiet white walls.

I opened the locker—a standard-issue thing. Oddly, someone had packed my clothes and bag from before deployment. I stuffed them into my bag, shrugged into the cardigan I bought with my first contract payment, and shuffled out.

My reflection in the window looked like a pale, melancholy youth.
“I’m not sickly at all, though.”

I chuckled, stepping into the hallway. I’d worried I might see Wonu before I left, but he wasn’t there. I couldn’t tell if I was disappointed or not.

I walked slow on purpose. People were too busy to look my way; there weren’t even many around. This place worked more as a recovery wing than a true hospital.

Down a floor, I changed into my own clothes from my bag, pulled out my IV and hid it in the restroom, then scribbled “Out of Order” on a scrap of paper and stuck it to the door. Here, there were rarely any patients—no one would notice a brief absence.

I crossed a skybridge to the administration building, panting by the time I reached the information center Hunters and Guides could use. Only one person was here, sleeping with an eyepatch in the far corner.
Hunters and Guides rarely mixed well—most personalities here were too odd for it.

I keyed in my Hunter code, then did the separate iris and dorsal vein scan. The infamously finicky iris scanner worked—on the fifth, last try.
“Past records,” I muttered, tapping my way in.

In this country where every event gets recorded and filed from birth, everything about my activity was easy to find. I scrolled to the top, then slowly down. I stopped.
<Partner Hunter deceased>

I clicked ‘Hunter’—details appeared. I stared at the complete dates for their birth and death, then silently closed the info window. Died in winter, two months before our contract ended. Died in front of me. It had been gruesome—I didn’t want to revisit it. There was so little data about dungeons then, each one a landmine. We’d just drawn a losing hand.

I could let it go now. At the time, though, it wrecked me—I was barely functional. I scrolled past those memories and read aloud,
<Served as assistant guide: interaction and interim guiding between hunters>

Clicking ‘interim guiding,’ I saw the participants.
Years as a professional errand boy at the bureau had gotten me high clearance—if I’d taken a different contract, this level would’ve been off-limits. Even so, few ever bothered looking.

I scanned the list. Names of researchers and Hunters I didn’t recognize were there… and then, for the first time, I noticed:
<Observers: 2>
Observers? Didn’t recall that at all.

It felt like a box full of unknowns. I checked details further down.
Kang’s name was one. And the other:
<No access>

Since partnering with Wonu, that phrase had become depressingly familiar. Almost as if it was another way to say “Chae Wonu.”

I thought oversleeping would make me too awake for bed, but as night fell, sleepiness returned. This time, I woke before dawn—not from drugs, but for no reason at all.

“….”
“….”
“Could you at least say hello if you’re going to stand there like a ghost?”
“….”
“Don’t tell me you came empty-handed?”

No answer. It irked me. My injuries weren’t Wonu’s fault. People got hurt on raids all the time. It wasn’t the end of the world. I wasn’t his world, and didn’t want to be.

I raised the bed with the control; the backlight finally showed his face.
“Have you been eating?”
“Is that all you care about?”
“I’m Korean. What else should I ask—like, if we met before, or why you liked me from the start?”
“….”

He clammed up again.
“Fine. If you don’t want to talk, don’t.”

Instead, I yanked him by the collar. He let himself be pulled, as if scared that rough handling would hurt me. Ridiculous, as if I were a delicate flower.
I craned forward and bit his lower lip hard. The memory of our last kiss must’ve cut deep—there wasn’t a drop of blood, but I still tasted iron.
“Ah. I’m sorry.”
Looking, I saw I hadn’t imagined it—there was a mark on his lip. From me.

“It’s fine. If it’s a scar from you.”
“Don’t say things like that. It’s scary.”
“What is? Isn’t it like having a well-behaved puppy?”

A shiver ran through me. It was slight, but I wondered—where does this blind devotion come from, and why is it this absolute?

The real issue was that, behind the chill, there was a strange sweetness. Part of me was seduced by it. I must honestly be going nuts hanging around him—this isn’t the kind of place monsters praise their hunters and hunters taste delicious.

I snapped back, worrying about what kind of naive self Wonu really had. Wouldn’t he get scammed? He must be rich… or is he already being conned?

“Why are you so good to me? Even for a first partner, this is too much.”
“You’re not just my first guide. Other people take things for granted—I never had any of that. You wouldn’t know—you’re not a Hunter. Hunters without guides aren’t broken, not even malfunctioning. They’re simply not worth considering. They’re garbage.”

Why put it that way… I scratched my jaw, uncomfortable.
“And yet everyone at the Bureau literally dotes on you.”
“Then you should be the Bureau’s pet, hyung.”
“…Why would you say something like that?”

Nearly swore out loud, bit my tongue at the end. Wonu snickered, younger than he usually seemed—none of the dazed, empty laughter from dungeons, just a normal kid’s smile.

I lifted a nail, then let it drop. The question—Have you seen me before?—sat in my mouth like grit.
But I couldn’t get it out. Maybe I was guilty for nosing in behind his back. Really, digging into my own past—he just happened to be there.

“Hyung.”

He pulled me from my spiral, grasping my jaw and tipping my face toward his. We kissed as if falling into the place we always belonged. Pleasure came from how perfectly our shapes slotted—his top lip covering my bottom, his soft lips clinging to my dry ones.

It was still clumsy—he’d never be called a good kisser. But there was a cute, tantalizing quality to how he mapped my mouth, checking every spot, wanting to be pulled in for more.
“Let go.”
I tried to pull away, but Wonu gripped my neck, reluctant to stop. When I growled, he finally let go, corners of his eyes drooping like a kicked puppy.

“Was that bad?”
“Seven points.”
“Out of a hundred?”
“I mean out of ten. You’d get seventy just for your looks.”
“Whoa. I improved that much?”
“Kissing: bad, still clumsy. Face: adorable, cute, beautiful. Bravery: admirable.”
“Which counts most?”
“Bravery.”

In the end, it sounded like some sappy self-improvement class.