Being A Full-Time Employee C64

Chapter 64

I was just as dizzy as he was. I might have acted like the adult, but the truth was, I was only older in years—not in experience. In love, I was just as clueless as Chae Wonu. My life until now had been nothing but work—never about sharing feelings or bodies in any real sense.

There’d been someone I liked in middle school. Back then, I thought she was my first love. But compared to this—it was nothing. To Wonu, Christmas, chocolate, cake were precious; to me, Wonu was worth so much more than all of that combined.

“I think I feel the same,” I said.
Damn it. I didn’t know anymore. Dizzy or not, there wasn’t any other way to answer. Funny thing—once I confessed, the dizziness began to fade. At last, I’d moved as the rules dictated. The truth was simple: all the strange things I’d been doing for him, all the obsessive little habits, all the days without him that seemed washed in grey—they all came down to one thing.

By the time we picked up the cake, it was already late at night. Traffic was bad enough that we got out halfway and walked.

Other people were hunched over, shivering in the cold, but for us the weather was fine. Hunters and guides were built stronger against both cold and heat, less easily injured—probably so they could handle unpredictable conditions inside dungeons no matter the season outside.

That meant our destiny was to enter dungeons, where we fit better than anywhere else…

“The smoke,” Wonu said suddenly, cutting off the train of thought. He was sipping iced chocolate from a takeaway cup, now mostly clinking ice.

“If the strange behaviour from Park Seokho in City Hall Station’s dungeon was caused by the smoke in there—then why wasn’t I affected?”

His rescue story crossed my mind—was it possible some monsters could mimic human form? I dismissed it quickly. Too little evidence. And in all my time in the field, I’d never heard of such a monster.

Which meant that—even if Wonu were a monster—it wasn’t a problem. The thought made me chuckle. Maybe I’d been out here too long; even my perspectives were odd now.

“They asked me to test it.”

“What? You already did it?”

“Yes. So I did.”

His tone was casual; mine wasn’t. I stopped and practically shouted,
“Are you a lab mouse? Always getting roped into these tests?!”

We were crossing a long bridge toward the Bureau. Traffic here wasn’t as bad as elsewhere after the dungeon break reconstruction, but still—it was easy to stand out if you stopped moving. I swallowed my frustration and kept walking.

He stuck close, watching me.
“You should say no to that stuff—at least sometimes. You don’t even know what they’re testing.”

“I didn’t lie down for it…”

“And when did you do this? While I was out here waiting, you were in detention breathing smoke again?!”

“It was a quarantine room, not a jail… Hyung, you were really waiting for me?”

“Of course. I waited until the sky turned dark, why do you think?”

He only smiled that clueless smile again. His lips—once bruised—were healing, so I restrained my urge to smack him again. My hand was still swollen from last time; no point hurting only myself.

“They said it was nothing—just breathing the same smoke again.”

“And if they’d mixed something into it?”

“They wouldn’t. They know losing control would hurt them more than me.”

“Doesn’t seem to stop them from using tranquilizer rifles on rampaging hunters.”

“…Well.”

“You’re going to say it’s fine because Park Seokho got shot too? His guide’s heart must have broken.”

“I haven’t thought of that before.”

“No—you just didn’t.”

It frustrated me, how normal this was to him. That he’d endured so many tests and passed them all. That made him valuable to the Bureau—and harder to let go.

He reached out and took my hand. His was warmer, even though he still held that cold cup. I shifted the cake box in my grip. We were already near the end of the bridge. Walking over it wasn’t romantic—and it was shorter than I’d imagined.

“They only tested experienced hunters. The only ones fit enough at the time were me and Seokho. But Seokho was in the infirmary—thanks to me—so it came down to me. If I’d been hospitalized, he’d have done it instead.”

“….”

“It really wasn’t a big experiment. And they said I’d get out of quarantine sooner if I did it. I didn’t regret hitting Seokho—but I still had no idea when they’d let me leave.”

“…Now I feel like I’m the kid here.”

“Hyung? No—that’s not true. You’ve experienced more than me. Kissing and slee—”

“Yes, yes. I’m great and Chae Wonu is greater. Well done. But don’t agree to things like that again.”

“Okay.”

“It’s because I worry.”

His eyes lit up—brighter than the river under the city lights. I looked at him—at my unpredictable partner who was at one moment childish and the next seemed fifty years old—and felt more fondness than annoyance. He only grinned wider and tightened his grip.

“It’s easier to talk when you already know me,” he said.

“Then say whatever you want.”

“No… I’ll keep it to good stuff today. Days like this are too short to waste on anything else.”

I agreed. His story wouldn’t be a pretty fairy tale—or a hero’s epic. It would be messy, dreary. It would have been nice if it were just science fiction—at least that’s fiction.

“Hyung, I feel like I’m drunk right now—floating. Am I even touching the ground? I’m not accidentally using my ability, am I?”

“You’re walking. Dragging your feet till the soles wear out.”

“Is a birthday supposed to feel like this? We’ve got two hours to go and I’m still excited.”

I’d never thought birthdays were particularly special. I didn’t even care much on my own, even when I still had family.
But I smiled, licked my lips, and said,
“That’s normal. Makes the world look shiny.”

“No,” he said, dreamy-eyed. He didn’t look at the reflection of city lights in the river, or the cars behind us—just at me.

“You’re the only thing shining.”

You make me feel like something extraordinary. Like I’m not just a guide, but a unique name. It felt like being the Yang Baekgyeom I’d been in a past that can never be returned to.

Later, both of us were down to our underwear, wrapped in a blanket. We’d forgotten to adjust the thermostat after the way we’d tangled together. Sweat cooled on our skin; we clung together for warmth.

“Good thing we finished before midnight,” I muttered as I lit the candles.

“That’s because I timed it perfectly,” he said smugly.

“Funny—someone that good with timing didn’t even give me time to take my clothes off. You could replace a computer with your precision.”

“When you use formal speech to tease like that—”

“What?”

“It’s sexy,” he said.

His eyes were heavy, desire dripping from them, but I ignored it. He was like oil—all it would take was the smallest spark to ignite.

I placed all the candles, deliberately avoiding the tall ones. There were twenty-one—the number told me that as of today, he was twenty in international age.

“Turn off the light,” I murmured, still watching the flicker. He flicked a bead of champagne at the switch to hit it.

“That’s an expensive bottle.”

“I’m rich,” he said.

“I’ll believe it when you open your account.”

“Materialist. You only date me for my money?”

Must’ve picked that line up from some silly video. I smirked and slapped his bare shoulder—producing a satisfying smack.

“I’m here for your face. Take care of it—no scars or anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

He answered well enough. But I’d seen him charge recklessly into battle too many times.

“Hyung, you don’t believe me, do you?” he teased, sliding an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

“Blow out the candles. Wax is dripping.”

“It’s pretty like that.”

“Pretty and tasteless. Make a wish.”

His arm tightened around my shoulders, fingers locking together. I thought I might die from the chokehold.

Glancing up, I saw we’d already passed midnight. Being pressed against him, I could feel the faintest movement of his lips. My pulse jumped—because it felt good.

And for once, I wanted making that wish to be real.

If any god exists—grant him his wish.
He’s good. He’s precious.
And don’t think I’m being arrogant when I say I pity him.