Being A Full-Time Employee C57

Chapter 57

He must have been fixated on my earlier joking, because he kept mumbling about “office romance, office romance,” even in the elevator.
“Since we’re both office guys, it is an office romance.”
So corny. Painfully corny. And yet, somehow, coming out of Chae Wonu’s mouth, paired with that infuriatingly perfect face, it was charming. If it had been Seunggyu or Hyungmin saying it, I’d have scowled immediately. But with Wonu, I found myself smiling without meaning to. His face was its own kind of wit.

We kept bantering with silly jokes until we reached the Bureau’s main lobby. The place was busy as usual—workers arriving late, hunters and guides milling around. At least there were no public tour groups today. Normally Thursdays were open-house days, and the place would be packed.

“Today I just want to stay in our room with you,” Wonu said.

Since there were no wandering high schoolers, I let him loiter close to me in the lobby. I reached up to brush back hair tickling my neck—but suddenly, the weight of Wonu’s head was gone.

“Hunter Chae. Enjoying yourself?”
It was Park Seokho.

Something was off at once. Drugs, maybe? I remembered hearing that if guide-assist stimulants were mixed a certain way, they could be abused like narcotics. Whether it was that or something else, I couldn’t be sure, but the atmosphere was wrong.

Since it was just after the morning rush, busy staff hurried past without sparing us a glance. That wasn’t because they were unshakable—it was because fights between hunters weren’t exactly unheard of. I’d seen them myself more than once. But this time felt different.

Wonu seemed to think the same. He pushed me back behind him, and I let myself be moved, scanning the crowd for Min Eesoo. If she were here, she might have restrained Seokho. But no—this meeting seemed to have been arranged for hunters only. Perfect timing. Damn it.

“Does it help you sleep well, knowing you killed my friend?” Seokho’s breath came out like a growl as he stepped in.

“I was following the rules,” Wonu said, his brow tightening.

“You’ve got no flexibility? No compassion?”

“So I should have just left him there—to be buried with your guide, and mine too?”

“You could have done something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Was Seokho calling him some kind of god? The absurdity made me want to step in, but Wonu cut me off with his arm. His profile was set in grim stone.

“You’re not even like us,” Seokho snapped. “You didn’t really clear that dungeon, did you? There were rumors you might be one of the monsters from that place—maybe they were true.”

My patience snapped. Formality or colleague courtesy was over. “That’s crossing the line,” I said sharply.

Seokho’s reddened, bloodshot eyes turned on me. He was definitely not in his right mind.

“Hunter Park Seokho, have you been abusing enhancers? Because by the Bureau regulations—”

“Yeah, and by your precious rules, my friend had to die! If I can’t protect Eesoo, then I’d die too—and I guess when that happens, Hunter Chae Wonu will kill me without hesitation as well, right? I can’t stand his calm face!”

Suddenly, Seokho’s hand darted from his pocket toward me. The whispering rip of air was chilling—if I’d turned a second slower, that blade would have been buried in my stomach. Guns were hard to come by, but knives were plentiful.

“You take one more step, you can’t walk it back,” I warned, twisting his wrist. It didn’t matter. He laughed, saying punishment meant nothing to him.

“That’s not what I meant—look at the back of your head,” I murmured.

By now, people were staring. Understandable. Behind Seokho hung a water screw, jagged like a broken stalactite, its tip sharpening more by the second. If it struck, it would punch a huge hole right into the back of his skull.

Seokho laughed like a madman.
“You think I didn’t factor that in? If it means I can see Chae Wonu lose composure, I’ll do anything.”

He released my wrist. The knife floated in the air, then multiplied into countless copies.

“Hyung,” Wonu called.

Water had its limits—split it too fine, and it lost strength. Drop after drop could be divided infinitely, but that wouldn’t stop a blade.

My wrist was yanked, and I turned to see Wonu’s worried face. He’d overextended himself.

“Ha… ha. Got you,” he muttered, grimacing.

The Bureau’s suppression squad was approaching. Glancing back, I saw that the knives had been stopped—barely. Seokho’s power wasn’t without flaws; his duplicates got smaller with each replication.

But the unease didn’t fade.

When I turned forward again, I saw a small knife flying toward Wonu’s back. I twisted the arm holding my wrist free, grabbed him, and pulled him behind me. Too late—I saw the thin sheath of water wrap around the blade, giving it the appearance of water shaped like a knife.

“You killed him,” Seokho snickered.

The knife sped forward, then vanished—but Wonu’s water shield couldn’t absorb the impact. The water knife struck my chest.

“…Ah.”

Of all places, right in the left side.

With the heart pierced, the sensation was less pain and more a heavy, crashing thud.

Blood gushed. Wonu’s multiplied water blades, dulled by loss of control, dissolved into red. I pressed my chest, but felt the stream spilling past my fingers. The blade had gone deep as it was sharp.

I shouldn’t have come to see him off. Should’ve just stayed in bed—preferably naked and lazing around.

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t a big deal.

“Hyung!”

His cry, more like a scream, came as my body folded downward. Wonu caught me before I hit the floor, but I knew—hitting the ground wouldn’t have hurt anyway.

Through my lowered view, I saw Seokho pinned down by the suppression team. But my worry wasn’t for the madman—it was for Wonu, especially as I spotted the suppression team bringing a tranquilizer rifle. At least it was happening here in the Bureau, not inside a dungeon.

“I’m not dead yet,” I rasped.

Even if all he heard was gasping, I couldn’t stop talking.

“You’re going to save me.”

Facing death for the first time was terrifying. I thought of the necklace Wonu had given me. Had he expected this moment the day he’d handed it over? My heart ached to see the oversized child crying like the world was ending as he held me. My eyes closed, body cooling, the chill settling deep. Too cold.

I heard shouts—“Hunter Chae Wonu!”—and pleas, “No, don’t do it!” But that was all.

Darkness swallowed me. It wasn’t painful now, or cold—just peaceful.

Then a green flash burst before my eyes, the sound of something breaking. And I lived again.

“Ah—ah, it hurts… it hurts…”

My lips moved on their own, groans slipping out. I half-opened my eyes and saw a laser-like machine moving over my chest. Rapid recovery tech. I closed them again.

Let me pass out. It would be better—please, let me.

“How’s the pain? Bad?”

“…Ugh, nnngh.”

It was Chief Kang. He wore goggles, his tone infuriatingly casual.

“Hurts worse than dying?”

That sadistic bastard…

I forced my eyes open. Tears spilled freely—not from emotion, but sheer reflex. It felt like my chest was being seared with fire.

“Even rolling in filth beats dying,” I croaked.

“That’s good. You got lucky—heart shot and still alive?”

Suspicion in his tone couldn’t override the pain clawing at me.

“Thank the Bureau—if you were anywhere else, we’d have lost a valuable asset.”

He grinned, turning back toward my chest.

“Oh—and I got promoted. Team leader, again.”

Again? He’d held that post before? The thought never finished; the pain blanked my mind.

This year I seemed to be getting injured more than usual. Should’ve checked my fortune—was this my unlucky cycle?

Staring at the all-too-familiar ceiling tiles of the infirmary, I sighed deeply. My ‘injury’ this time was just a hole in the chest, so maybe I’d be discharged today.

I sat up, hand automatically finding the necklace chain. The pendant was gone, chain dangling.

“…So it got used in the end.”

No emptiness in that thought—being pulled from death’s grip was worth everything. That experience had been hellish enough the first time; surviving it again felt like a miracle. A miracle among miracles. Even the rumored 10 billion won value of such an item seemed cheap now.

Yes, Wonu’s water had killed me, but his gift had saved me. I had no resentment—just gratitude.

“That a dog tag?”

The drained voice made me turn. It was Hyungmin—pale, hooked up to not one IV but three, each bag a different color. His face looked haggard, as if five years had passed overnight. It had barely been half a day.

“Park Hyungmin… Did you get badly hurt? Don’t tell me…”

We’d been the first wave—so after we failed, there had to be a second team. That must have been Hyungmin’s group.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Fine—meaning someone else wasn’t. The unease crawled back. My last memory was Wonu unharmed, just as always. Had something happened to him in the meantime?