Being A Full-Time Employee C70

Chapter 70

I tugged lightly on Wonu’s hand. The head that had stubbornly been facing the window turned toward me. Before I could even catch his expression, he pulled me closer and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Try to sleep,” he murmured.

You think I could sleep right now?

“You’ll be busy once we get back.”

“…”

So he’d known. From the start, Wonu knew he wouldn’t be able to use his powers as long as I was around.

My throat burned; my eyes pricked. By making himself look like a useless fool in front of everyone, he’d declared—without saying it—that it wasn’t my fault. Intentional or not, he’d kept his promise. To protect me.

“Welcome back.”

Team Leader Kang greeted us with outstretched arms. His warmth was fake enough to make my skin crawl.

The moment he appeared, other hunters—those who actually trembled in his presence—quietly slipped away with their partners. Soon, only the four of us were left: Kang, me, Wonu, and his pitiful assistant whose face I recognized from a previous encounter.

“Wonu. So you’ve become useless, huh?”

Still in the car, he let go of my hand. His other hand clenched faintly in the air at the unflinching cruelty of Kang’s words.

“You’ve done this your whole life, and now you flinch? I’m honestly shocked. I’ve never been disappointed in you before.”

“…”

“Why do you think you’re even here?”

Each line came sharpened, meant to strip away his sense of self. Kang’s scolding was never refined, but with Wonu it was deliberate—methodical. He wasn’t talking to him so much as breaking him in. He’d been raised this way.

If Wonu had grown up hearing words like “you’re worthless” without hesitation, this must have hollowed him deeper than I’d thought. If his self-worth had always been tied to killing monsters, then right now… how low must he have scored himself?

“Wonu goes with me,” Kang said finally.

“And me?”

Even knowing this wasn’t the time, I couldn’t hold my tongue. Kang flicked a glance my way and smirked—a sly, unpleasant look.

“Guide Yang, wait here.”

That insincere brightness in his voice grated like sandpaper. He turned. Wonu followed. I caught his wrist.

“Come back.”

Usually, he’d make some tone-deaf or joking reply. This time, silence.

“I’ll wait, so come back. Don’t listen to whatever he says.”

“Hyung,” he said finally, “are you always this kind… to everyone?”

I snorted. He could’ve asked me anything else. My reputation was common knowledge among hunters—polite with clerks, curt with hunters, mutinous with higher-ups. Kind? That wasn’t me, not even toward Seunggyu.

“I’m only kind to you.”

“….”

“So come back before people start calling me a lunatic. Don’t be late.”

He nodded—barely. Or maybe he was shaking his head. I took it as a nod anyway. I told myself, He nodded. Still, as he walked away, I whispered silently: Turn back. Look at me.

But he didn’t. He just disappeared with Kang, leaving me alone in the empty, icy parking lot.

The hallway lights flared on as soon as I stepped inside. Beyond the entrance—it was all dark. I turned on every light, one by one, not caring about the electricity bill. Even fully lit, the place felt barren again.

I lingered in his room. The clock he’d once broken was fixed now, ticking normally, yet slower somehow—too slow, but almost fittingly so.

After washing up, I checked my phone. Nothing. No calls, no messages. Out of habit, I searched City Hall Station. People had posted photos. Some even showed us eating—to the untrained eye, just blurred figures off to the side. I downloaded the best one.

My camera roll opened to a gallery full of him. Lying under the blanket, I swiped through one after another until the end, then back again. I must’ve known already then—this wouldn’t end happily.

And sure enough, he didn’t come back.

When Wonu had been locked up before, his silence had scared me. But this was different.

So when I heard he’d gone into a dungeon alone without me, my heart sank—but my head didn’t even flinch. Maybe I’d already accepted it.

“I’ve never seen a scandal like this,” someone remarked.

I spun my spoon lazily, the soup swirling sluggishly in the bowl.

Wonu said nothing. After nearly a week apart, sitting across from him felt like facing a stranger I hadn’t seen in a decade. When he’d first been released from quarantine, I’d hit him out of anger, but by now everything had dulled past fury.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said.

“Have I? Looks like you’ve managed fine, Hunter Chae.”

Every word between us tasted like distance.

Of course I felt betrayed. Logic is one thing—acceptance is another.

He used to eat neatly, clearing every plate. Today, he barely lifted his chopsticks.

“So the hunter dumped the guide this time, huh?” a voice behind me chimed in—the same one who’d commented earlier. Without turning, I tilted my head back.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s right.”

Their hurried attempt to play innocent grated on me.

I slouched, slumped over the table like a delinquent boy. Wonu didn’t scold me, didn’t say a word.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked finally, eyes on the table.

“What do you mean?”

“For you to be the villain and me the fool everyone pities. This is what you wanted?”

“Maybe,” he said softly.

He always answered so damn well.

“I didn’t.”

“I think this is right.”

“Right? You mean me sitting around helpless while my partner goes into battle alone? Watching from the sidelines while some perfect new guide replaces me? That’s right to you?”

“That won’t happen.”

“What do you mean, won’t happen? You went on a mission yesterday, didn’t you?”

“No. Not that.”

He put down his spoon. A fresh bandage covered his cheek—a large hydrocolloid patch. Hunters didn’t wear those for minor scrapes. The wound had been deep enough to need shielding.

I wanted to ask. How bad is it? Does it hurt? That’s what I should have said—instead of keeping up this doomed charade of anger.

“There will never be anyone to replace you,” he said. “You’ll always be my guide.”

“Then why—!”

“Because of that. Because you’re the only one.”

“….”

“I don’t need money, and I’ve never needed friends. I don’t wish for a family either. I only need you. So if you’re gone, then everything ends. As long as I know you’re somewhere alive—even if you’re not beside me—that’s enough.”

He looked older now, steadier, unnervingly so. I wanted to stand beside him, measure how much he’d grown. But though our seats were close enough that I could’ve brushed his foot with mine, the distance between us felt like opposite poles—worlds apart.

His eyes were unwavering. He’d made up his mind.

As long as I stayed near, he would never use his powers again.

And he wasn’t wrong. Wonu could kill me easily—without even realizing it. His ability spanned too far, too deep.

I was just a frantic ant scrambling in the dirt—an ant he happened to treasure. A fool willing to destroy everything to keep one tiny life alive.

“I’ve requested contract termination,” he said quietly. “Since it’s my fault, I’ll pay the penalty.”

“You talk about breaking contracts over lunch?”

“I would’ve said it anyway. Better now than during a kiss or a hug.”

“….”

“I should’ve done this sooner,” he added.

Sooner? Was this some kind of joke? I didn’t even know which emotion to pick—anger or despair. He’d been planning to leave while I’d been busy falling in love?

Arms crossed, I couldn’t even look at him. He was right about one thing—if I’d heard this mid-embrace, it would’ve been worse. I might’ve seen how pitiful, how utterly pathetic I truly was.

For once, he hesitated. Slowly, he stood. For a moment, I thought he wanted to look at me longer. But why terminate the contract, then? Couldn’t we have fixed it—like people did in counseling, like couples trying to survive a rough patch?

No. Couples don’t break up because one fears killing the other. That kind of situation ends with restraining orders, not reconciliation.

Goddammit. Wonu had done the rational thing. Ending the contract was his only way of setting a boundary neither of us could cross.

After he left, I set the spoon down with a sharp clack. My appetite was gone—not just for today, but for days now. Maybe longer. Long enough for him to notice my weight loss himself.