Being A Full-Time Employee C51

Chapter 51

Wonu froze stiff, just like the very first time we kissed, until the moment my lips brushed his and my tongue slipped inside—to which he suddenly turned his head and lunged forward hungrily.

It was like fireworks exploding in my skull. “A kiss feels like fireworks” is supposed to be a metaphor, an exaggeration. But between a guide and an aroused hunter, fireworks—or maybe gunpowder—truly did go off between us. Explosions or bombs, it hardly mattered. With this connection, I saved Wonu, and he had come back through hell to save me.

His damp hands grabbed my waist. I slid my thigh between his and pressed. His ragged breath poured into my mouth. The hand not braced on the window tangled into my hair—and on that wrist glimmered my watch. From both our bodies came alarms: one the pulse-warning from my device, the other Wonu’s instability signal, wailing endlessly. Perfect soundtrack for a horror-fantasy. We kissed anyway, devouring the moment of reunion. Even mid-battle, surely we deserved at least that breath of life.

“It seems we were scattered deliberately,” I said later. “Total of four to one cars entered the platform—so at most, three guide-hunter pairs landed. Meaning the dungeon might’ve grouped all guides together inside trains.”
“When a hunter loses a guide, no matter their relationship, anxiety spikes,” Wonu replied.
I nodded. His lip was cracked and bloodied.
“So, extrapolating further—hunters, separated, stranded among random monster-infested passages, lose control of their powers, and…”
He raised a finger and flicked it open. “They fry themselves.”
“…You think that’s the dungeon’s plan?”
Silence.
“Isn’t that too clever? If dungeons start designing counterstrategies like this, no team can fully break them—and now there are civilians captured inside.”

At that, Wonu merely shrugged, indifferent.
“If it’s growing, it makes sense. Or maybe it’s more… emotional? Protective. Could be guarding eggs, or raising spawn—”
I groaned, clutching my temples. “Please don’t. We’ve had enough nightmare imagery for one day.”
Just the thought behind us—the monster’s corpse still visible through glass—was enough nausea for a lifetime.

“For now, we should leave these people here and head out. We need to find the others.”
“Do we really have to…”
“Don’t start. Move.”

I pulled him up by the hand. He rose reluctantly.
“And wipe that blood off already. You’ll terrify them.”
“Let them faint. Easier to manage that way.”
“You really can be cruel, you know.”
“Not cruel—just apathetic,” he said flatly. “And not secretly either. Obviously.”

While he wiped streaks from the windows, I climbed to the next car. The civilians, though still tense, managed hesitant smiles—realizing the train hadn’t been consumed further.

“It looks like the train won’t vanish again,” I said. No fancy jargon—just calm reassurance. “You should wait here. Monsters are active through the main tunnels.”
“Can’t we go together?” one asked helplessly.
I smiled thinly. “No. Protecting everyone while fighting is impossible. Staying here gives you the best chance.”
“And if more monsters come?”
“Then we’ll come back for you.”

I said it lightly; the truth was, we needed to clear the path for proper forces. Leaving without looking back, I heard the muttered “Irresponsible…” trail behind me. I bit it back—not denying it, but choosing not to answer.

“Let’s move,” I told Wonu.

He had already cleaned most of the blood, bandaged his brow. I focused ahead, not on his face.

He stepped first, bridging the gap from wrecked train to platform. Sparks cracked downed cables, edges jagged. We crossed, boots careful until the haze of smoke swallowed us.

“Where’s your mask?”
“Where’s yours?”
“Couldn’t breathe.”
“Yeah. Same.”

“So,” I said, “let’s go.”
“With you here, it’s different,” he smiled.

I almost asked how it was different—but curiosity got the better of me.
“How so?”
“Without you, it was suffocating—bleak. With you, it’s quiet. Peaceful, almost like a walk.”
“Well… an optimistic way to put it.”

Sure, like a seaside stroll—if the seaside was fog-drenched, crawling with foam-mouthed beasts instead of dogs and joggers. But pretending worked. Pretending helped.

We walked five minutes. The path he’d cleared was clean. Nothing lunged, nothing moved. Silence was heavy but undisturbed. Both flashlights illuminated barely two meters ahead.

Carefully we descended toward the opposite platform. No words—our goal known: check for more cars, find any other survivors, unravel the fog’s maze.

Fear was there, unspoken. Saying a single word of uncertainty felt like we’d shatter whatever fragile balance kept us sane. Or maybe only I was afraid. Wonu, gripping my hand constantly since we’d crossed over, looked calm beneath his goggles.

Then—yawn.

“…Are you seriously yawning?”
He shrugged. “What can I do? My powers plateaued; then nothing happened. Post-adrenaline crash. Like food coma.”
“You didn’t eat a monster, Wonu.”
“Details. Anyway, are we really doing this formal talk, the two of us alone?”
“Wonu.”
“Yes, hyung.”
“Shh.”

I clamped a hand over his mouth, crouched low. He mirrored me instantly. No tension on his face—proof he’d sensed it too. The danger. Long before I did. Hunters always outclass guides in instinct and strength. Even in this unstable dungeon, those fundamentals didn’t change.

Our eyes met. He smiled faintly, lids soft. Couldn’t hate him if I tried.

“It’s coming,” he whispered.

Something vast sliced the air. Wings—heavy, leathery. We froze as a pterosaur-shaped monster drifted by, claws gripping a limp human body.

My throat locked. That uniform—familiar Bureau markings, unmistakable.

Two dots on my tracker gone dark. So that’s what they were.

When the creature vanished, silence reclaimed the station. Only then did I lower my hand from his mouth. My voice cracked low:
“…Guide, or Hunter?”

He’d have seen better than me. Their insignia were stitched differently on the sleeves.

“The arm was gone,” he murmured, absently tapping his shoulder’s edge. “Like this…”

My stomach froze.
“It was severed here. Clothes ripped away—I couldn’t see the mark.”

Speech fled. We all knew death was routine; knowing didn’t make hearing it easier. This idiot boy—this bright flower-brained partner—blinked slow and serene. Those ridiculous lashes of his infuriated me.

I found my voice, rough with despair.
“Damn it.”

He looked forward into the fog.
“Whoever they were, I hope the last dot left… is their partner.”