My Auto Cloning System

Episode 79 – A Door Closes, A Dungeon Opens

The hospital never really slept. Even at night, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like mechanical insects, filling the halls with a cold white glow that made everyone look pale and tired. Outside the windows, the city kept its uneasy rhythm, sirens echoing faintly in the distance as patrol vehicles from the Hunter Association swept through neighborhoods, keeping people inside and monsters out. Dungeon breaks had been happening so often lately that no one could remember the last week without one. Parents clutched their children closer, students walked faster through the streets, and every café seemed to carry at least one television showing the news around the clock.

For Kim Do-hyun, the world outside that glass didn't exist right now. His reality was the small hospital room, the stiff sheets beneath him, and the lingering ache in his body from the battle. His arm was bandaged, the cursed sword had nearly destroyed it, and his mind still replayed the image of his sister Kim Chae-min lying in her own blood. He had been told she survived, that she was stabilizing somewhere else in the building, but even that relief felt fragile, like one wrong move could shatter it completely.

When the door clicked open, Do-hyun raised his head. He expected a nurse, maybe one of the Association's healers checking in, but instead, standing hesitantly in the doorway, was Oh Min-joo.

The girl looked out of place in the hospital. She wasn't dressed in a hunter's uniform or carrying protective gear. Instead, she wore her college jacket, the one he remembered from tutoring sessions, and her hair was tied back as though she had run here without much thought. Her face carried that same nervous determination he had seen when she used to struggle over equations, refusing to give up until she understood.

"Professor," she said softly, stepping inside. Her voice wavered, like she wasn't sure if she had the right to call him that anymore. "I… I came to see how you're doing."

Do-hyun blinked at the word. "Professor." It had been weeks since he thought of himself in that way. The title belonged to another life, one where his biggest concern had been whether his student understood algebra, not whether his clone would die in a battle against a monster spilling out of a dungeon.

He managed a tired smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Min-joo. You came all the way here?"

She nodded quickly, clutching a small bag against her chest. "Of course. Everyone in my family's okay. We got to the shelter fast. When I heard you were hurt, I… I had to come. You were in the room, right? With that muscly friend of yours, Nam Tae-joon? I think I saw him outside when people were gathering."

Do-hyun chuckled faintly. Even in disaster, Tae-joon's ridiculous presence left an impression. "Yeah. He was there. Big guy, hard to miss."

Min-joo hesitated, then offered him a folded slip of paper from her bag. "He told me to give you this. He wrote down his contact. Said you'd probably lose yours again if you don't keep it somewhere safe. And… I put my parents' number there too. Just in case you need anything."

Her hand trembled as she held it out. The gesture was simple, almost casual, but Do-hyun could see the effort behind it. This wasn't just about contact information. It was her way of saying she was worried, her way of clinging to some connection with him when everything else felt unstable.

Do-hyun accepted it carefully, as though it might break. He looked at the numbers, then back at her. "Thank you. That means more than you think."

For a moment, silence hung between them. Min-joo shifted her weight from one foot to the other, cheeks warming with embarrassment. She wasn't good at standing still, especially not in front of him. Finally, she blurted out, "Please get better soon. I still have so much to learn from you, and you promised you'd help me prepare for the exams. I can't… I can't do it alone."

Her voice cracked at the end. She looked down quickly, pretending to adjust the strap of her bag.

Do-hyun's throat tightened. She didn't know the truth yet — that the version of him she relied on as a professor was gone. He had carried that life as far as it could go, but now everything was different. He couldn't sit in classrooms anymore while his clones bled and his family suffered. The dungeon had chosen him, and he couldn't escape it.

He took a slow breath, steadying himself. "Min-joo," he said finally, his tone heavier than before. "I need to tell you something. I'm dropping out of college."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "What? Why? You can't— you're one of the smartest people I know! You can't just walk away like that!"

Do-hyun gave a faint, humorless laugh. "Smart doesn't stop monsters from tearing through buildings. Smart doesn't keep my sister alive. The truth is, I can't afford to live in two worlds anymore. If I try, I'll lose both. So I'm choosing. I'm going to focus on the dungeons, on getting strong enough to protect the people I care about."

The words hurt to say, but once they left his mouth, a strange calm settled in. He had been torn between paths, but this moment made the choice real.

Min-joo's hands clenched at her sides. Her lips pressed together, trembling, as though she was fighting between anger and tears. Finally, she whispered, "So… that's it? You're giving up on teaching? On us?"

He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, Min-joo. But I can't be the professor you need anymore."

Two weeks later, the hospital bed was empty.

Do-hyun's recovery had stunned the doctors. Wounds that should have taken months knit together in days. His body hardened, muscles sharpening with a strength born not just of healing but of relentless training inside his mind, where his clones continued to fight, learn, and pass their experience back to him. He had become something different, something no textbook could explain.

When Min-joo saw him again, she barely recognized him. His shoulders had broadened, his frame carrying a quiet power that made him seem older, heavier, like the weight of the world had finally settled on him and he had chosen to bear it.

He told her about his sister. About the blood, the pain, the helplessness that burned in his chest every time he remembered. And then he apologized — again — for not being able to tutor her anymore.

This time, Min-joo didn't cry. She just stood there, awkward and stiff, her eyes flickering as though she was trying to find the right words and couldn't. In the end, she forced a small smile. "It's okay. Really. Arigato… thank you for everything."

She started to walk away, then turned back suddenly. Her voice wavered, but her words carried a sharp edge. "I know you probably won't reach out to me anymore. But you're going to regret this. Because I'm going to get into the college you told me about, and I'm going to find myself a boyfriend, and when that happens, you better not come running back."

The attempt at confidence cracked halfway through, but she kept her chin high. Then she left without looking back.

Do-hyun stood frozen in the hallway, the sound of her footsteps echoing until they faded. For a long moment, regret twisted in his chest, but he forced it down. He didn't have the luxury of clinging to what-ifs.

The world wasn't going to wait for him.

So he hailed a taxi, sliding into the back seat. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, muttering something about hunters always being in a rush these days. Do-hyun didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on the dark horizon of the city, where the faint shimmer of dungeon energy stained the sky like a bruise.

The car pulled forward, tires humming against the pavement. His hand tightened around the hilt of the cursed sword resting in its case beside him. His body was healed, his mind scarred, and his path clear.

He was heading straight into the dungeon.