Being A Full-Time Employee C69

Chapter 69

The man didn’t miss the chance to sneer. He must have been their de facto leader.
“Where are you going? Scared after just one hit? In a paradise like this, and you still got your asses kicked?”

Even the team leader, who should have stopped him, joined in mockingly. “Yeah—scared, huh?”

Was this a joke? They’d called us here to help, to serve as experienced guides, and now this?

“Yes. I’m scared,” Wonu replied.

My temper—ready to rise and bite back—snuffed out instantly. He said it without hesitation, without pride, and simply pulled me toward the exit. He really looked like he wanted to leave.

“You’re just walking out? What about the mission?”

His grip was impossibly strong—not a playful tug but an inescapable pull. My feet dragged helplessly across the ground, and through the mask, I shouted, “Chae Wonu!” He only glanced back and gently pushed my mask down into place.

“Let’s share a quarantine room, Hyung. Better than staying here.”

“What are you—”

A scream tore through the dungeon. I froze, my steps tangling. Wonu paused briefly, then moved again. But this time, I yanked his arm free.

The man closest to us was missing everything below his elbow, blood jetting as he screamed. That round, fuzzy monster—once harmless-looking—was grinning now, its featureless face split open with a gaping mouth full of teeth where its eyes should have been.

“What… what the hell did that idiot do?”

He must’ve used his ability—or tried to cut it for sample extraction.

In an instant, the serene illusion shattered. Those who’d been lounging around snapped into battle formation. Wonu and I took point automatically. But when I looked back, he wasn’t moving. He was standing motionless far behind me.

“…Wonu?”

“All hunters, engage!”

The amplified command forced through our earpieces, but Wonu still didn’t move. I wanted to see his face, but the damn gas mask hid it completely.

“Hyung!”

Just as he finally stirred, something slammed into my ribs. I didn’t even stop to see what it was—instinct took over. I crossed my arms, turned the blade outward, and flicked my wrist to deflect the weight pressing down.

When I managed to open my eyes, the shaggy round monster was grinding its teeth inches away. Despite the blunt teeth like a herbivore’s, its jaw had terrifying power.

“This—ugh—damn it—”

Before the crushing weight could finish me, it suddenly lifted.

Wonu was there.

He’d kicked the beast like a soccer ball—an impossible feat given how heavy it was—and drawn his sidearm in one swift motion. His aim was perfect. The creature twitched, hit once, then again, and collapsed. No wasted bullets. No hesitation. Clean.

“You okay?” he said sharply, offering his hand.

It jolted me out of my shock.

“Scared you, huh? Come on, up you go.”

Yeah, I was scared—but not by the battle, or even the dungeon’s shifting terrain. What unsettled me was seeing him use a gun. I’d never seen that before.

“Come on,” he said again, hauling me upright. Then he fired into the dirt at his feet. Once, twice. Something underground screeched faintly.

“Some move through the ground,” he murmured, pulling me into a jog. I had my blade—a knuckle knife—and a pistol in the other hand. Both ready.

“Looks like they’ve gotten faster,” he continued. “Good thing we’ve got someone who can turn the ground over.”

He was assessing the situation frighteningly fast. I asked, catching my breath, “Why aren’t you using your ability?”

Hunters needed guides—their bodies deteriorated without one. The bond prevented physical collapse. That was the theory. Which made his careful restraint look inefficient, wasteful. But I knew he wasn’t being inefficient—he was being deliberate. I just didn’t know why.

The sudden chill at the back of my neck made me spin. I slashed, the blade catching one of the fuzzy, shrieking creatures as I fired twice into its moving shadow.

“Why, Wonu, why—”

I looked up—just in time to see him leap off a low, twisted tree like a gymnast, cutting down something writhing through the air. His moves were flawless, deadly precise. But there was no trace of his ability, no water, no mist.

Then, meeting my gaze, he grabbed my arm and yanked me behind him. A slick wave of mud surged forward—not water, but wet earth—splitting open the ground.

Hidden beneath was a nest, crawling with the smaller things. Instantly, other guides opened fire, and hunters chained their abilities, tearing it apart layer by layer. Even the man missing half an arm fought without pause.

Wonu didn’t move.

The others noticed. Their eyes darted his way, questioning. He just stared at the nest, back turned to me—protecting me, but not touching me. Not using anything.

“Why aren’t you using your ability?” I demanded.

“…”

“Are you refusing? Or can’t you?”

“….”

“WONU!”

He looked back. Smoke and embers rose from the burning nest; its oily air painted his face red through the haze.

“I can’t,” he said softly.

The voice was one I’d never heard before—drained, empty.

“I can’t use it. Not in front of you. I don’t want anyone to use theirs in front of you.”

“What… what the hell does that mean?”

“I can protect you from monsters. But I don’t know if I can protect you from hunters. I think… I might kill you. It’s all I can think about, so I can’t do anything.”

His eyes glimmered—whether from the firelight or tears, I couldn’t tell.

“You idiot…”

Our comms were live. Conversations weren’t recorded unless flagged—but anyone could choose to. I slammed my arm over my face.

“Then what the hell do you need a guide for?!”

“….”

“Who’s keeping us together then, huh?!”

Someone was definitely recording this. Even if not the team fighting the nest, someone monitoring outside surely was. I could only pray the interference here wrecked their signal—fat chance, but prayer was all that was left.

Because miracles are only called miracles when they don’t happen.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Hyung. But every time I close my eyes, I dream about killing you…”

He said he dreamed it every night—as tears streamed down his face like a child’s. The face I loved, the one I’d laughed about in idle fantasies, crying beautifully in front of me.

And I—I couldn’t even joke about timing. Couldn’t say “why here, in the middle of a dungeon”—because I finally understood what fear of loss really was.

The atmosphere afterward was dire. We sat side by side without speaking. Everyone around us avoided meeting our eyes. Hope—thin as it had been—was gone. People had heard him.

He stared out the window, his silhouette drawn sharp against the grey light. For once, I didn’t know what to do.

I understood him. I did. He wasn’t the first hunter to break like this. Even the halfhearted “psychological training sessions” mentioned similar cases sometimes. Usually, it happened when partners grew too estranged—or when hunters’ trauma made them avoid combat altogether.

But being too fond to fight beside someone? That was new.

Even for me—it was new. I’d always managed to separate work and life. To treat things transactionally. Even sleeping or kissing—no meaning attached. But love—for real—had stripped me down to inexperience. I was seventeen again, clumsy and terrified.

Wonu, who had softly broken through the walls I’d built, was now the one pushing me away.

“…So what happens now?” someone said quietly.

“Replace them,” came the reply.

That single word hit hard. I didn’t have to confirm who they meant.

“Useless,” someone else added.

Those four syllables punctured the air—and lodged deep in my ears.