Being A Full-Time Employee C44

Chapter 44

Wonu’s insight had been dead accurate. I didn’t need to think back to the first day we met. I clearly felt attraction toward him, and our relationship was teetering on a line that might lean into something more. Still, in the back of my mind, I was always thinking beyond the contract’s end.

Recontracts only happen when the Bureau itself initiates. My only rights were the right to refuse or accept.

“So… what I’m saying is, I hate carrying too heavy a burden, Wonu.”

I knew words like that could wound him. Even so, I said them. I was unfinished, a half-formed adult wearing a convincing shell, and in the Red Zone that much became painfully clear. Crooked, flawed—I wanted us to remain ambiguous, then let each other go lightly.

And yet, I didn’t let go of his hand. I turned my wrist, threaded my fingers into his. Interlaced them deliberately.

He said nothing, no anger, no hurt. His silence unnerved me more—it made me feel like I should be the one displeased. Which would make me a complete bastard.

“Hyung.”
“Yes.”

I ducked branches hanging heavy and crossed broken pavement in large strides as I answered.

“I’ll say this in advance, so I don’t disappoint you later. I’m neither the child in that photo nor dead weight in a collapsed building.”
“I’ve never thought of you as dead weight. Of all I’ve grown attached to lately, you’re the only thing alive. I only worry… what if you turn to dust. That’s the problem I wrestle with.”

He stepped closer, gaze steady.
“Hyung, do you like me?”
“What.”

I fumbled, but he gave his own answer.
“I like you.”
“….”
“No—I think it’s more than that. I want to be the only partner you ever have. Forever. What’s the word for that? It feels different from just liking.”
“Sounds like… obsession? Possessiveness.”
“If it’s wrong, I’ll try to fix it. Is it bad?”
“It depends on the situation. But… I feel it too. After realizing I was the first to share so many of your experiences—your ‘firsts’—I wanted more. So yes, I feel that same possessiveness.”

I smirked. Saying it out loud made me recognize it. The greed and attachment. Clear.

He wet his lips. The red of them glowed high-contrast against this grey-scaled city.

“I wish you’d forget all your former partners.”
“Mm.”
“And sometimes… even the Bureau. I wish no one knew you. Then, even after the contract ends, no one could take you from me.”
“That’s… a dangerous thought.”
“…Then I’ll stop there.”

There’s more, I thought—but didn’t ask. Too afraid that hearing more, I’d still think, I can handle that much.

Words from long ago surfaced. ‘Guide Yang, you’re resilient. Mentally, physically. But maybe it’s because you never expect anything. Then the damage doesn’t cut as deep.’ Those had come after losing my first partner. A mandatory psych test. Words I’d dismissed then. They resurfaced sharp now.

“Why are you smiling?”
“Remembered something I heard before.”
“Old partner? Or old lover?”
“I grew up without regular bonds. Not like most guides, most hunters. No lovers. Hardly partners. And don’t dig past that—I warned you. What answer are you expecting? You outrank me in clearance—just pull the files.”
“I don’t want to dig. I want to hear it.”

He pouted dark, and I almost teased—only for his palm to slap over my mouth.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear it. If you said I kiss badly, then maybe you had someone before who was good.”

I didn’t nod, didn’t deny—just turned my eyes away. He didn’t understand yet: it wasn’t technique. It was heart.

I’d kissed the so-called experts before, partners who prided themselves on skilled tongues. With them, kisses were just routine between tasks—I’d think about dinner plans while their lips pressed mine.

But with this clumsy rookie, Wonu, food never crossed my mind. Hunger of an entirely different species gnawed me—like appetite, but raw, primal. Call it hunger for him. For a colleague, it was insane. But maybe I was both sincere and insane.

He was unlike anyone I’d met before, and that made me move differently, think differently. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact—it was exhilarating.

“Let’s move on. At this rate we’ll be camping here. My house is dust. Don’t want to end up a bum.”

Just then, a gust of wind snapped a flyer loose. It slapped me in the face. Flattening it, I read: ‘Retire in luxury within a Green Zone—only 10 million won!’

“Is that for real?” His head brushed mine as he leaned. I crumpled it at once, tossed it.
“Of course it’s a scam.”

Fear was the best sales pitch. Always would be. I snorted, led him deeper into the Red Zone.

It had been more of a warehouse than a home. Still, I’d found it on my own, my bolt-hole for when contracts dragged long and the Bureau dorms were closed. To see it half-crumbled in ruin—that froze me.

“They said it was D-class.”

His voice dropped. I knew what he meant; the destruction looked closer to C, even low B. Growth-type dungeon. Just like quakes—tremors first, then the main quake. I forced the thought down, picking my way across rubble.

“Oh, Guide Yang!”

The landlord came scrambling down—remarkably nimble. Former mountaineer, maybe.

“What a mess! Did no suppression teams come?”
“Don’t speak of luxuries. Post-cleanup came.”

That even such a disaster could become routine hit hard. I nodded grimly. His eyes turned next to Wonu.

“Wow. Handsome lad. New partner? Best I’ve seen yet.”

He grinned and raised a thumbs-up. My back broke out in cold sweat. Just minutes ago we had spoken of dead partners. I laughed awkwardly, clapping his shoulder.

“Don’t make it sound like I’ve dragged home multiple. Only once.”

And that one had been a disaster—we’d cursed each other daily, snarling like enemies. Happened we both left the Bureau dorms on the same day, met in the streets by chance. We fought even on the way back, each accusing the other of stalking. Never reconciled.

“Ah? Thought more. Anyway, this one’s beauty.” He winked. “But tell me, doesn’t the Bureau cut deals for housing? You’ve been working there for years.”
“Contractor. No benefits.”
“You? Since baby-faced—still on contract?”

I hadn’t had any ‘baby fat,’ but the chance to explain passed. I just smiled awkward. Truth was, I didn’t want life shackled to Bureau walls. Its kind words and warm veneer felt prison-like.

“I prefer freelancing. Anyway—the salvage?”
“Out back. Sorted rough piles. Check what’s yours.”

“Thank you. One tip, sir—when you file claims, mark ‘Unclassified’ not D. They’ll investigate. If it regrades to C or B, you’ll get triple compensation.”

Kang would gleam at fresh data. And me—I wanted every scrap of dungeon research.

“Let’s go pick.”

Wonu bent by rubble. Hand dipped to his pocket. I wasn’t sure what he’d picked up. His face blank—chillingly older. I stretched out my hand. He reached from above, catching mine—hot.

“You used your power?”
“Yes. Doused the dust. Dungeon residue mixed in.”
“You’re that careful? Impressive.”

I squeezed his hand. Murmured, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

For me, a resident here, even such small gestures meant everything. Maybe trivial for him—but sincerely, I was grateful.