Being A Full-Time Employee C61

Chapter 61

Now that I think of it, we had promised to go see a movie after our next mission. The problem was, I couldn’t think of a single title.
I eventually pulled out my phone to search, and one re-release caught my eye—a classic film, a mix of horror and comedy. Horror, huh? Poor timing for a winter re-release. Not that it would scare Wonu anyway. Compared to the monsters he faced in real life, it would probably seem ridiculous—maybe even funny.
Murmuring the title under my breath, I finally stepped forward and stood before the room where Wonu was locked up. Just to lift my head from staring at my feet, I had to force strength into my neck.

“Hyung…?”
I heard movement inside as Wonu noticed me. The sound alone made my throat burn and my eyes sting with heat. Something heavy and molten rose to my throat, choking me until I couldn’t raise my head anymore. I pressed my forehead against the glass and started trembling.

“Hyung. Hyung, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“…Hhk.”
“Who made you cry? Huh? Look at me. Are you hurt? Did you get treatment?”

Don’t cry, idiot. You fool. Don’t cry over this.
But I couldn’t stop. The grief flooding through me wasn’t about the sterile lines in a report—it was the unwritten pain between those lines, the unrecorded torment that had filled Wonu’s life, now crashing into me like a wave. My fingernails scraped against the glass, making a squeaking noise.

“Hyung…”
His voice came small and dazed. I suddenly remembered that awkward, breaking tone he used to have, right on the edge of puberty. That voice was what had made me open my eyes the next morning.

It had been during the time I wanted to die every day. Whenever I could still think straight, I just wanted to stop breathing—to join my family again. Life was too cruel, too filthy. I wanted the end credits to roll and free me from the film I was trapped in.
But life wasn’t a movie, and humans, unlike dolphins, couldn’t just decide to stop breathing.

Then I met an annoyingly talkative kid.
Back when all I wanted was death, I found myself thinking, Why is he here at the Bureau? How old is he, anyway?
The more new thoughts I had, the fewer times I thought of dying. He asked what food I liked, and thinking about that kept memories of my family away for a day. He asked what my favorite color was, and I spent the whole night trying to remember.
It was always about him—you. You’re the reason I’m still alive.

“Hyung… I’m sorry. That you got hurt because of me. My power—”

“Wonu.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my rough hand and looked up. Wonu stopped mid-sentence, staring at me through the glass.

The glass was clean, apart from the faint fog from my breath. Too clean. It made me feel as if nothing separated us at all. I pressed my lips against it—a foolish thing the old me would’ve cringed at.
A print of my lips marked the fog.

“Now, come here. Kiss this spot.”
Wonu hesitated for a moment, then obeyed without question. He tilted his chin slightly—he remembered that this angle made our lip shapes align perfectly. I remembered too.
His invisible print overlapped mine as the fog faded away.

“Perfect score,” I said with a grin.

“….”

“The rest—we’ll finish when you get out.”

To my surprise, he didn’t even question me. He just nodded like always. In the past, that blind obedience had seemed strange; I’d thought he was a little clueless, taking everything literally. Now I knew—this was just how Wonu was.

I wanted to hug him so badly, but the glass made it impossible. So instead, I tapped roughly where his nose should be on the other side.
“Wonu, I scammed Team Leader Kang.”

“Nice. Did you steal money?”

“No. I’ve got a rich partner, so I took something else. Oh, and Kang’s a team leader now.”

“Really? That’s okay. He’ll get demoted again in six months. That’s just how he is.”

“You’re right. I don’t know if he flip-flops because he’s unstable, or he’s unstable because he flip-flops.”

“Hyung.”
His tone turned soft, almost serious. I had an idea what he wanted to say, so I nodded silently.

“I miss you. Even though I can see you, I miss you.”

“It’s probably because I’m just a hologram. They said I can’t come down here in person.”

“Oh. Really? Is that why you were crying earlier? You were crying. Maybe someone hacked your system.”

Hmm. He didn’t think I was that cold-blooded, did he? I scratched my head, chuckling awkwardly. I had to hurry before he actually believed that nonsense.

“It was a joke. Honestly, I can’t even joke properly with you anymore—you believe me every time.”

“Really? Wow, you scared me. I thought maybe I was hallucinating again because I missed you too much.”

“‘Again’? So you’ve missed me that much, huh?”

I tried to hide the bittersweet curl of my smile. Of course, he didn’t notice. My precious monster—the man who could tear apart creatures with his hands and had been called a murderer of hunters—looked so heartbreakingly pure.

Wonu stepped back slowly and sat down. The detention room looked almost like a minimalist, futuristic café. His black hair and pale skin made him stand out even more—beautiful, painfully so.

“Hyung. Really, I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s not like you killed me. Didn’t even hurt much. Honestly, I think you hurt far worse than I did.”

“Yes. It did hurt. I even wanted to stab myself in the chest just to—Hyung…”

“Hey, don’t actually—”

Our voices overlapped. Both of us stopped mid-sentence, staring at each other—and then burst into quiet laughter.
That was when the guard, who I’d almost forgotten existed, shouted from the end of the hall.

“Time’s up—thirty minutes are over!”

“Got it,” I called back.

Hands in my pockets, I glanced back at Wonu. He frowned.
“Only thirty minutes?”

“That’s already generous, they said.”

“It’s too short.”

“I agree.”

“I want to get out soon. Be next to you again.”

“Yeah… when are you getting out?”

He didn’t complain about the formal tone I’d adopted—probably understood I was doing it because someone else was around.

I waited for his answer. Strangely, he hesitated, silent and thoughtful. I hoped it was nothing. Maybe he was just trying to remember how long the quarantine lasted—something trivial like that.

“Time’s up! We can’t give you more!” the officer repeated, stepping closer with an embarrassed look. I couldn’t stall any longer.

I took a small step, reached out, and knocked gently on the glass. The dull sound echoed between us; Wonu’s gaze followed my gesture slowly.

“When you get out, let’s see that horror movie.”

“Horror comedy.”

“Right. Horror comedy.”

“Sounds good. Can’t wait.”

Wonu’s bright smile finally made me smile too. I waved. Even after the door hid me from sight, I kept my hand raised. I knew he would keep waving until I completely vanished.

My steps leaving the hall were much lighter than when I entered. He’d be out soon—I’d buy tickets, make plans, prepare everything.
But then, I kept postponing. Rescheduling. Canceling. Waiting.
And before I knew it, the film was no longer showing.

Christmas had come.

A tree stood in the Bureau’s lobby. I exhaled smoke, staring blankly at it. The giant, glittering tree—something you’d expect in a department store rather than a government office—seemed to flaunt the Bureau’s prestige. Highest export numbers this year, highest pride, like a corporation decorating its success.

“Is this supposed to be a public institution or a damn private firm?”

Someone grumbled beside me, sharing the bitterness of a cigarette in the cold air. I agreed silently.
I wasn’t even much of a smoker, but I still stood there in half-cut gloves, shivering, lighting another just to have something to do. Christmas had no joy left in it. Lately, everything looked like ash to me—gray and dull, like the inside of an overfilled ashtray.

Wonu had gone into detention early December. It was now late December, and he still hadn’t come out. Visitation had stopped too—nobody would issue authorization anymore.

Team Leader Kang was nowhere to be found. Busy, probably, and now too high in rank to chat with a mere freelance guide like me. So that was why he’d “kindly” handed me that permit back then—for show.

I cursed his name every night as I drank. I felt like the dumb lover waiting for someone sentenced to eternity. No release date, no discharge. Just endless waiting. A prisoner’s sweetheart, or maybe a mournful ghost.

“God, it’s freezing. What’s with this weather? Not even a White Christmas—just plain gray.”

Another squad came out for a smoke break. Half of them peeled off to catch the shuttle running to the outer gate, while a few hardcore smokers joined us. I looked up at the bleak, cloudy sky and murmured my agreement.