Being A Full-Time Employee C9

Chapter 9

I wasn’t surprised. Some people, overwhelmed with fever after exhausting their abilities, flailed and fumbled around unconsciously. But this was different. This wasn’t an accident—it was deliberate.

“Take your hand off.”
“Just a moment.”

His hand, which had crept up further inside, found what it was searching for and pulled it free—a knife.

Still pressing close against me, Wonu flicked his wrist lightly. The motion was casual, almost like tossing a playing card, except the card was a blade, and its target wasn’t a wall—it was a monster scrambling toward us on all fours.

“So this is why they all wanted partners.”

His voice was filled with satisfaction.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done something like this.”

I let out a long sigh. The alert warning of the next wave rang through my ear. The loud mechanical sound must have reached Wonu too, but he didn’t budge from where he pressed his head against my stomach.

The ground began to ripple. The glow of the energy pillar shifted yellow. I gave Wonu a firm push— harsher than kind.

“Get up. Time to work.”

He lifted his gaze resentfully.
“After Wave Two, I’ll let you again. Now, hurry.”

At those words, he slowly rose. Thankfully, he was easier to manage than expected.

A low rumbling, like a stomach upset, echoed closer. I shifted my hand to the nape of his neck, feeling his pulse. Hunters’ physical activity inside dungeon zones was heightened far beyond the average, so the normal ranges of pulse didn’t apply. Counting beats against my watch, I measured.

“How do I seem? Honestly, I feel on top of the world.”
“You look it. Now stand.”

The trembling ground drew near. Wonu stretched, then I tipped up the bottom of my goggles, pouring the pooling water out.

“Let’s take it easy.”
“If we go too easy, we won’t kill them.”
“If anyone dies here first, it’ll be me, not them.”
“Let’s redo your lung capacity test when we’re back.”

As he said it, he tugged me behind him. Naturally, I stayed there. They might endure some wounds without dying. Me? Dead instantly. Lofty ideals and heroic resolve weren’t what I dealt in.

“Shouldn’t our physical abilities also increase when we enter a zone?”

My complaint went lost. Wonu stomped forward, and a pillar of water blasted up—launching all three stacked cars we had just scrambled over.

“Now this is good fighting, isn’t it?”

The launched car-shells crushed the monsters climbing up.

“How’s your condition?”
“For something like water columns? Nothing hard about it.”
“Small effort, big results.”

Next, three smaller fountains arched out, hurling individual cars. He’d likely keep repeating until the fragments became nothing but dust. I nodded.
“That’s how you should fight.”

If this had been some city street, or one of those movie superhero fights no one believed in anymore, I might’ve spared a thought for drivers staring at their pulverized cars in despair. But this was a dungeon zone, and the Hunter Bureau of Korea swam in money.

All I worried about was seeing that tower turn blue before the third wave struck. Not another disgusting rain of blood and flesh—god, I didn’t want that again.

The dungeon raid ended. Luckily, the Espers neutralized the core with one minute to spare before Wave Three. Exhausted, they were carried piggyback by their Guides, while Wonu and I walked out on our own legs.

Still locked in guiding, arms entwined—a bit like one body—Wonu stood upright… blood spilling from his nose.

“Hunter Chae Wonu… you’ve got a nosebleed.”
“Ah, I know.”

He brushed it away indifferently with a filthy glove. I frowned, unable to tell if the stains on his beautiful face were his own blood or gore from the monsters he’d burst apart.

“Water?”

Still, whether it was his or not, he clearly didn’t care. Frustrated, I grabbed a bottle from the ice-filled cooler and soaked a bandana thoroughly.

It took two bottles’ worth before I managed to clean him. Three wring-outs later, the water finally ran somewhat clear. Shaking it out, I handed it to him. He only peered at me, questioning.

“For your face. Wipe it.”
“You won’t wipe it for me?”
“I’m a Guide, not a babysitter.”
“I feel dizzy.”
“That’s from blood loss.”
“If a little nosebleed makes me dizzy, should I quit being a hunter? Hm, my heart feels like it’s racing too fast.”
“That’s just from running.”
“If running makes my heart beat like this, then I really should quit.”

The exaggeration, the excuses—I saw right through them. During the second wave, when his heat spiked, I’d already held his hands, fingers entwined. The grip he’d given had been so strong that, if not for my protective gloves, my bones might’ve shattered.

I hated getting dragged into these little word-games. As always, it had to be the frustrated one who ended the back-and-forth. Sighing, I pressed the damp bandana roughly against his face, scrubbing away the mess. Dust caked here too—before Wonu had turned the place into a waterlogged swamp, the air had been dry, thick with floating grit.

With every wipe, his features shone paler and sharper, nearly ghostly white. It made me think my own face couldn’t look much better right now.

“Don’t tilt your head back.”
“Thanks to you, I won’t die from a nosebleed.”

Gripping his neck, I worked the bandana downward. I could feel my energy draining—a different exhaustion than guiding, but tiring all the same. Only after the bleeding slowed did I flip the cloth around and wipe off my own face.

Soon, the helicopter’s rotors shrieked awake. Wind and noise flattened everything left on the ground. As dungeons collapsed, they contracted inward. I glimpsed bisected cars, pedestrians screaming as they clawed their hair in despair.

“Fuck, can’t anyone just fight without making chaos?”

Whining traveled up from the survivors about installment payments and ruined cars—complaints clearly meant for our ears. Gratitude was rare. We’d heard such things too many times to even twitch a finger in response.

The clean-up division corralled the victims. Compensation would handle it—always did. Didn’t I say? This was a country where oil didn’t erupt—dungeons did.

Even so—he was twenty. I caught myself throwing him one more glance as I discarded the ruined bandana. Wonu had pulled a chocolate bar from his belt and was munching away.

No way he hadn’t heard those voices. Yet he looked less concerned than I did. Hunters had to be over legal age, but seeing him, you could tell his field experience was minimal. He carried himself with a gutsy recklessness that defied ordinary nerves.

Spotting me staring, he offered the bitten bar over. His teeth marks were neat, straight. For all his flaws, outwardly, his looks were flawless. Outwardly.

“You want some?”
“No.”

My reply came instantly. He nodded, not sulking, not pressing. No reproach, no mock offense—nothing. Maybe we weren’t close enough for such things anyway.

“Returning to HQ! Priority on evacuating critical cases! Those with guiding rates below 28%, and severe trauma cases board first!”

“What’s your rate?”

Mouth filled, Wonu chewed the rest of the bar. I drew a prick of blood from my finger—51%. Not very high. Even entwined hands couldn’t stabilize much more.

But while I frowned heavily, Wonu beamed.
“Wow. This is the first time I’ve hit this level without meds.”
“You’ve relied on drugs until now?”
“Shots too. Pills and injections.”
“That stuff’s addictive, you know.”
“No helping it. No one matched with me before.”
“Probably just because you’ve seen so few. How many matches can you have had till now?”

At that, he pulled a strange face, tilting his head. His hum was evasive, unsettling.

Just then, the pilot called out. His voice singled out Wonu. Clearly, Wonu had been prioritized.

“They want us aboard first.”
“I’d rather wait for the next chopper…”
“Doesn’t look like many criticals here.”
“Still—if I go, they’ll ignore me again.”
“That’s not it.”

Just that I had nothing to say to him. We weren’t exactly warm companions.

He hesitated, sulking. But me—I only wanted a hot shower, badly. I gave his shoulder a push.
“I want to scrub myself clean. Let’s go.”
“Let’s scrub together, then?”
“Absolutely not.”

What the hell, was he insane?

“Shame. But if hyung wants to go, I’ll go.”
“If you want to stay, stay. I’ll leave first.”
“A partner should go everywhere together. That’s what partners are.”
“That’s not what a partner is. You need a refresher course.”

The stream of nonsense this kid spouted was endless.

I shook my head, laughing through my nose, already peeling the stiff chunks of hair drying atop my head. My boots squelched as I trudged toward the helicopter.

On the way, I logged our guiding record: his instability percentage, and post-guiding stabilization. Decent, but not stellar. My mood soured over the low score.

By the look of it, Wonu was an all-rounder, equally effective up close and from a distance. That meant hazard pay would double. In short, a lucrative cash cow. Partner with him three or four more times, and I could finally afford that two-room apartment in the Green Zone…

Footnotes

¹ In Korean Bureau systems, “guiding rate” refers to how much the guide stabilizes a hunter’s unstable power. Below 28% meant critical instability and mandatory medical evacuation.