Being A Full-Time Employee C63

Chapter 63

We finally had to go buy the cake. We’d been standing around too long.

Normally, it would’ve been the kind of shop I’d just glance at and pass by—but I found myself worrying whether we’d be able to buy a cake without a reservation. Then Wonu caught my hand, and all that meaningless anxiety disappeared like it had never existed.

Carol music played through invisible speakers. The world, half broken and still spinning somehow, was filled with the sound of Salvation Army bells. Everything shone too brightly. At that moment, I finally understood why people surrounded themselves with lights at the end of the year.

Despite it being Christmas Eve, tickets were still available. As expected, horror films—whether mixed with comedy, romance, or action—weren’t exactly a holiday favorite.

Our seats, second row from the front, weren’t great. We kept nudging each other throughout, though not enough to disturb anyone. When I crossed my legs, Wonu mirrored me so our knees brushed. When half the popcorn was gone, we left the tub forgotten and held hands instead. That was all.

I liked to think we weren’t an obnoxious couple. But who knew—most people in love probably thought the same before realizing they’d tuned out everyone else in the room.

Still, what kind of couple were we, really?

“Probably the kind that’s in its best phase,” Wonu said while stirring his cream udon.

I wiped a smudge of sauce from the corner of his lip and, without thinking, brought it to my mouth. Is that so? I murmured absently. Wonu flushed, dabbing his now-clean lip with a napkin.

“Hyung, that should be illegal,” he muttered.

“What?”

“That kind of unconscious tenderness. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. Bet you act like that with others, too. That’s what they call criminally endearing.”

Once again, he dropped some random expression he must’ve picked up somewhere and used it straight, without context.

I chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling like I’d been marked with a red line on a red-letter day. Used to it by now, I waved it off and told him to hurry up and finish eating.

We couldn’t stay out past midnight anyway. Hunters and guides living in the Bureau dorms were under curfew—like well-mannered kids from a strict family, obligated to return “home” properly.

The good thing about being inside, though, was that once the door shut, we could make all the noise we wanted—no one cared.

“This feels like the best time of my life,” Wonu said quietly, stirring his bowl again.

I looked down at the top of his head, suddenly desperate to know what kind of expression came with those words—and dreading the answer.

“You’re too young to call your ‘peak’ already,” I said. “For me, my best time was when I was a baby. I was adorable back then.”

“Really? I want to see a photo. Do you have one?”

“No. The dungeon break blew our house to bits.”

“That’s a shame…”

I took a slow sip of soda, watching his face. Outside, small fireworks crackled, and kids shrieked with laughter as street vendors launched twinkling toys that arced up and fell again.

“Wonu,” I said.

“Yes?”

“Do you remember anything from when you were little? Like what you grabbed at your first-birthday celebration?”

“No memory at all.”

“So what—were you born in a dungeon?”

I asked as casually as possible. It sounded effortless in my own ears, but I knew tone wasn’t what mattered—what mattered was the question itself. And I couldn’t help asking, even though I shouldn’t.

His fork froze midair. So did he. I watched the unfocused distance in his eyes, capped my water bottle, and waited. Tiny bubbles had been rising—about to burst—but stopped. When I reached out and laid my hand over his, he finally looked at me.

“Hyung. Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Too handsome to be one,” I said softly.

“But I’ve only ever been called that—monster. They said I was found inside a dungeon. So doesn’t that mean I was born from it?”

I thought back to what I’d told myself once in Kang’s office: if dungeons were byproducts of the universe, then maybe both monsters and humans were siblings, sharing dust from the same stars.
But I couldn’t say that to him now. Because even to me, it sounded hollow.

The moment’s hesitation was enough—his silence closed the answer for me. Damn it. Before I could even take it back, he withdrew his hand.

“They said I was found wearing a t-shirt and shorts, no memory of anything. I thought it was insane—until I learned there are others like me all over the world. Maybe we’re siblings. Or maybe we’re aliens.”

His tone grew lighter again, joking. I forced out a smile. Coward, Baekgyeom. Idiot.

“What nonsense. If that’s true, it’d be scarier than the movie we just watched.”

“Right? I hope it’s nonsense. Because if those other kids and I are the same, they’d all love you, wouldn’t they? I hate having rivals.”

“What’s this, pretending you have any already?”

“I do. You’re popular, Hyung. What’s that baseball term—when players transfer teams?”

“You mean stove league (off-season trading)? Not oven league.”

“That. Every time your contract ends, everyone’s quietly waiting. Hunters talk, you know. You’re practically famous.”

“Didn’t know that…”

Not that I didn’t expect fame—but I thought it was for being rude, reckless, maybe insane. Not anything good. The idea made my lips twitch upward in mild pride—until Wonu’s expression darkened immediately. His brows knotted, lips tightening in an exaggerated pout.

“Do you like being popular?”

“Well, the higher my market value, the more—ah, cold! Are you insane?!”

A sudden splash against the back of my neck. I spun. He stood there, hand poised like he’d been flicking marbles, water sparkling midair. He’d used his cup to whip cold water straight at me.

“You’re dead when we get outside.”

“How?” he quipped. “Hotel room death?”

“With that tone? Snowball fight. Stones inside don’t count, right? Not like they’ll hurt our big bad Hunter Chae Wonu.”

“Hunter Chae Wonu might not get hurt,” he said, smiling slyly. “But your Chae Wonu would definitely be heartbroken.”

“….”

Clever bastard.

Actually, more like dangerously pretty bastard. His blinking alone could short-circuit my brain.

Then my phone buzzed—a message. One of the bakeries I’d spammed earlier about canceled cakes.

One cake has just been freed up! Would you like to reserve it?

I quickly typed back with one hand, gulping down water.

Yes. On my way.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“They’ve got a cake for us. We’ll eat till midnight.”

“Cake?”

His face lit up completely, and just seeing that made all of it worth it. Wonu had a talent for making me feel proud of doing things I’d normally never bother with.

Talents no one but me knew about—useless for dungeon raids, invaluable for brightening a single person’s day.

Ignoring the glances around us, I grabbed his hand. When he leaned closer and whispered, “People are staring,” I just smirked. He didn’t realize the whisper—and his looks—drew more attention than our hands ever could.

“Let them. We’re both too good-looking.”

He burst out laughing, tilting his head back to the sky. I guided him through the crowd, catching our reflection in a storefront window—looked like a scene from a comic.

“Come here.”

I pulled him closer, leveled my phone, and opened the camera. Usually, it was for field reports or the occasional food photo—never this.

“Want tomorrow to be your birthday?”

“Huh?”

“The dungeon where they found you—it appeared on Christmas Day.”

“Oh…”

“If you don’t remember your real birthday, we’ll make that one yours. You can always change it later if you remember.”

He turned to look at me, but I snapped several shots anyway. Then something soft and cold pressed against my cheek. Click—the camera captured the moment as it happened.

This from the guy who claimed not to want attention—from the one who’d been so shy before. Standing in a crowded plaza, he’d leaned in and kissed me, grinning like sunlight afterwards. I could only laugh weakly, half stunned, half delighted.

“Good,” he said.

“You mean the new birthday?”

“No. You.”

“…”

“I mean—I love you. Chocolate, Christmas, trees, cake—I love those things too, but you’re different. I love you because you’re beyond comparison. Right? Missing you when I’m not around, wanting to hold you, losing sleep because I keep thinking about you, kissing nonstop when I can, and dying inside when you’re hurt—that’s love, isn’t it?”

A boy raised in isolation, knowing nothing of the world, spoke the purest definition of love I’d ever heard. Every word rang true, undeniable. I could only nod.

I’d always known he loved me—not just liked me, but loved me deeply. Yet hearing it out loud struck differently. The affection I’d always felt on my skin now hit my ears and shattered something inside. My mind spun wildly. The world tilted.

It felt the same as the moment of awakening—like being stripped down and rebuilt, dizzy and disoriented, without the fever this time but every bit as overwhelming.

Through my spinning vision, the only thing that stayed in focus was him.

I meant to open my mouth and say, I’m so damn dizzy right now.

But what came out instead was—

“I love you too.”

That wasn’t what I’d planned to say.
Or was it?