My Auto Cloning System

Episode 78 – The Virus in the Blood

The hospital lights buzzed faintly overhead, humming like tired insects trapped inside glass. The smell of antiseptic and alcohol bit the air, sharp enough to sting the nose. Machines lined the walls, beeping in lazy rhythm, as if mocking the panic that was quietly building in Kim Do-hyun's chest. He sat there, shoulders hunched, hands clenched on his knees, trying to look steady while his mind felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

Across from him, the doctor shifted a stack of thin plastic charts, his eyes moving between pages filled with symbols and readings Do-hyun couldn't understand. The man looked too calm, too relaxed for someone about to break a family's world in half. His lab coat was wrinkled, his tie hung loose, and his face had that expressionless professionalism that doctors used like armor. He scratched at his stubble and finally sighed before leaning back in his chair.

"Kid," the doctor started, his voice rough like he'd smoked too many cheap cigarettes, "sometimes when somebody gets wounded by a monster that comes through a gate, they don't just get a cut or a broken arm. They get something else left behind."

Do-hyun's brow furrowed. He didn't like the way the man paused, as if searching for words that wouldn't sound like a death sentence.

The doctor tapped the chart with one thick finger. "It's a kind of virus. Not a normal one. It doesn't spread through air or blood the way old human viruses do. This one's different. It's born inside the mana system of the creature, and when it gets into a person, it tries to feed off the mana they've got inside them. Most of the time, it dies fast, burns itself out because it doesn't match the person's mana structure. People get weak for a day or two, then they bounce back. Simple."

The explanation rolled out casually, but every word felt heavy. Do-hyun's eyes flicked toward the closed door of the examination room, as if he could see through the walls to where his sister lay in a bed, pale and sweating, her chest rising in shallow waves.

The doctor's tone shifted, growing slower. "But very rarely," he said, his eyes finally locking onto Do-hyun's, "the virus finds somebody whose mana it matches. Perfectly. When that happens… it doesn't leave. It doesn't burn out. It clings to them like a parasite. Eats away at their strength little by little. They stop living normally. They can't fight, they can't train, sometimes they can't even walk without help."

Do-hyun's throat tightened. His fists dug deeper into his knees. He already knew where this was going, but his chest still hoped for a miracle.

"How do you cure it?" His voice cracked against his will, betraying the panic rising inside. "There has to be something. Medicine, treatment, mana surgery—something!"

The doctor chuckled without humor and rubbed his temple. "Cure, huh? Kid, if you had pockets deep enough to touch the clouds, maybe. Right now, there's only two real options. One: find an S-Class healer, somebody like that lunatic they call Bless. But I don't need to tell you how impossible that is. Those kinds of healers don't even look at you unless you've got the backing of a major guild, a fortune, or a direct government order. Even then, it's a gamble."

He flipped another page and went on. "Option two: get your hands on certain rare items from the other side of the portal. Relics, beast cores, enchanted plants that can purge mana corruption. Except those things? They cost more than houses. Sometimes more than whole cities. And even if you had the money, even if you managed to buy one, half of them are scams or unstable."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair like he'd delivered the weather report. "So yeah. To be blunt? Your sister's screwed, kid. Unless you pull off a miracle."

The words hit like a blade. Do-hyun sat frozen, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He wanted to shout, to grab the man by the collar and demand he take it back, but his body wouldn't move. He could only hear his own heartbeat, pounding faster, louder, until it drowned out the machines and the hum of the lights.

If only. That was the first thought that slashed through his mind. If only he hadn't wasted so much time trying to play the hero. If only he had gone straight back when Number Three's connection cut off, instead of saving strangers in the street. If only he had chosen his family first.

His nails dug into his palms, leaving half-moon marks on his skin. The guilt settled like lead in his stomach, heavy and bitter.

"You're no hero," he whispered to himself, but the words sounded like they belonged to someone else.

Images flashed in his mind—the blood on his sister's clothes, the monster's blade tearing through flesh, the wild panic in his parents' eyes. And then Han Sen's face appeared in his memory: calm, composed, terrifyingly strong, the kind of person who stepped into chaos and bent it under his heel like it was nothing. Do-hyun had fought desperately, had bled, had nearly gone insane swinging that cursed sword. Yet Han Sen had ended things with a single strike, a casual move that made monsters bleed.

The gap between them felt endless.

He thought of the monster too. That towering beast with its blade-like limbs, its aura thick enough to crush the air out of his lungs. If not for Han Sen's kick, he wouldn't even be here. He would have died in that vault, his parents and his sister devoured alongside him.

His vision blurred, and he realized his eyes were wet. He wiped them quickly with the back of his hand, grinding his teeth until his jaw hurt.

If only he had been stronger. If only he had trained harder, fought smarter, pushed himself beyond his limits every single day. Then maybe, maybe he could have saved everyone. Maybe he wouldn't be sitting here, useless, listening to some half-drunk doctor tell him his sister's life was a price he couldn't afford.

The room felt smaller with every thought, the air heavier. He stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping across the floor with a screech that made the doctor flinch.

Do-hyun's voice was low, hoarse. "I can't let it end like this."

He didn't wait for a response. He walked out of the room, his steps fast, heavy, echoing down the hallway lined with pale tiles and flickering lights. The corridor smelled faintly of bleach and sickness, and each passing nurse or patient looked at him with brief curiosity before turning away.

When he finally stepped into the room where his sister lay, the world seemed to pause.

Kim Chae-min was asleep—or maybe not asleep, maybe half-conscious. Her face was too pale, her lips dry and cracked. Tubes ran into her arm, carrying fluids that looked like nothing compared to the mana storm raging inside her body. Their parents sat nearby, his mother gripping her daughter's hand as if her touch alone could anchor her to this world, his father hunched forward with his face buried in his hands.

Do-hyun stood there, silent, the weight in his chest nearly unbearable.

He whispered again, this time only in his head: If only.

The hours that followed passed in fragments—his father leaving to argue with hospital staff about treatment, his mother refusing to move from the bedside, Do-hyun pacing the room like a restless ghost. The thought of training filled his head, not the way he used to, but harder, harsher. He imagined himself pushing past every limit, carving out strength with blood and desperation, until he could stand beside the monsters and not feel like an insect.

The night grew long, and exhaustion dragged at him, but he couldn't rest. His body sat in the hospital chair, but his mind was elsewhere, locked in battles against phantoms, replaying the fight with the monster over and over, correcting every mistake, searching for a path where he won instead of bleeding out.

And then, when his thoughts had reached their darkest pit, a light flickered against the gloom.

The door creaked open.

A figure stepped into the room, her steps soft but confident. The glow from the hallway framed her silhouette for a moment before she closed the door behind her. Do-hyun blinked, disbelief freezing him in place.

It was her. His student.

Her name slipped from his lips before his brain caught up.