My Auto Cloning System

Episode 81 – The Debt of Life

Kim Do-hyun sat stiffly in the leather chair that felt far too expensive for him, even though his body still carried the aches of recovery. The office around him didn't resemble what he expected from a guild headquarters at all. There were no walls covered in glowing weapon racks, no trophy shelves stuffed with monster cores, no flashy aura stones humming with power. Instead, the space felt quiet, almost reverent. Large framed paintings covered the walls, each stroke heavy with emotion, as if whoever painted them had tried to bleed memory into canvas rather than impress visitors.

The faint scent of drying oil paints clung to the air, mixing oddly with the polished wood smell of the floorboards. The captain of Candace Guild, Han Sen, sat before one of the unfinished canvases, brush dangling between his fingers, gaze unfocused on the half-drawn figure of a girl whose features were still missing. He wasn't painting anymore. He was staring.

Do-hyun remembered asking the question that had been burning inside him ever since he woke up after that near-death ordeal:

"Why… why did you go that far for me?"

The words still hung in the air like a knife that hadn't decided where to land.

Han Sen's eyes finally shifted away from the painting and rested on him. His gaze was sharp yet tired, the kind of look that belonged to someone who had seen too much and survived too little of it intact. He set the brush down carefully on the table, then leaned back in his chair with a long sigh, as if he'd been waiting for this moment.

"You think I went too far?" His tone wasn't mocking. It carried a quiet weight, as though he genuinely wanted to know how Do-hyun saw it.

Do-hyun clenched his fists against his knees. Images flashed unbidden through his mind — his parents being rushed into a private hospital room they could never have afforded, his sister being handed meals by nurses who had been ordered not to let her pay a single won, his own battered body carried off a battlefield and treated with medicine that would have bankrupted their entire family.

It hadn't just been an emergency rescue. Han Sen had personally ensured they were shielded from all the fallout. His family hadn't merely survived. They had been protected, sheltered, and healed in a way that screamed of deliberate intent rather than random guild charity.

"That wasn't 'too far,'" Do-hyun finally said, his voice tight, almost breaking under the weight of truth. "That was everything. You didn't just drag me out alive. You made sure my parents could stay near me, you gave us a private room… you gave them peace while I was unconscious. Don't act like that was normal guild protocol. It wasn't. You didn't have to do any of that."

Han Sen's jaw flexed as if he wanted to argue, but instead he looked down at his hands. His knuckles whitened when he clenched them. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until finally he spoke, his voice low but steady.

"I had a sister too."

Do-hyun blinked. The shift caught him off guard.

Han Sen lifted his gaze again, and this time it wasn't the face of a composed guild master. It was the face of a brother speaking from a wound that had never healed. "Her name was Han Yura. She was part of our first exploration team. Strong, smart, stubborn. She used to scold me for treating my body like a weapon that never needed rest. I told her she worried too much." His lips twisted in a bitter half-smile. "Then one day she and her squad went on a raid. They never came back."

The words weren't dramatic. He said them simply, plainly, the way someone would describe an event too painful to lace with theatrics.

Do-hyun felt his chest tighten. He understood now why the man had treated him the way he did. It wasn't just about saving a young hunter. It was about saving what he couldn't save before.

"You reminded me of her," Han Sen continued. "When I saw you covered in blood, protecting your sister even while you were seconds away from collapsing… it was like watching Yura again. And I thought, if I let you die the way she did, then… then maybe I'd lose her all over again."

For a long moment, Do-hyun couldn't speak. His throat felt locked.

The room seemed smaller now, the air heavier. He finally forced the words out, his voice low and uncertain. "So… that's why you wanted to meet me as soon as I got back?"

Han Sen nodded once. "Yes. I need to know the truth about you, Kim Do-hyun. I need to know what you can really do."

Do-hyun stiffened. He knew what Han Sen was asking, and he also knew how dangerous that truth was. His ability wasn't some party trick that could be tossed around. The fewer people who knew, the safer he was. Still, the man sitting across from him had already done too much for him to pretend any longer.

He inhaled slowly. "Last time, I didn't answer. Not properly. You suspected it, didn't you? My clones… they're not illusions."

Han Sen's eyes sharpened, though he stayed quiet, letting Do-hyun continue.

"They're real bodies. Every one of them. When Number One jumped in front of that blast to save that civilian, it wasn't some shadow puppet. That was me too. It died for real." He forced himself to meet the older man's gaze. "And I can bring them back, but only one every twenty-four hours. That's the rule. My clones aren't disposable soldiers. They're… me."

Han Sen closed his eyes briefly, as if weighing the gravity of the revelation. When he opened them again, his gaze held none of the detached distance from before. It was direct, raw, almost desperate.

"Then I'll be direct too." He stood, chair scraping lightly against the floor as he bowed deeply, something guild masters didn't do lightly, especially not to a rookie hunter who hadn't even carved his name into the world yet.

"Please, Kim Do-hyun. Help me rescue the first team of Candace Guild. Help me bring my sister and the others back. You're the only one who has a chance."

Do-hyun froze. For a split second, he wasn't looking at a respected guild captain anymore. He was looking at himself — at that version of him who had once bowed his head, begging strangers, begging anyone at all, to save his own sister.

The weight of the moment crushed him.

He rose slowly, legs trembling under the pressure of memory and obligation. His voice cracked, but the conviction in it was unshakable.

"You saved my family once. Now it's my turn. I'll do my best."

The silence that followed was thick, loaded with unspoken promises and the shadow of a mission that neither of them could afford to fail.