CHAPTER 48: EPISODE 48 – MIDNIGHT REFLECTION AND NEW RESOLVE

Episode 48 – Midnight Reflection and New Resolve

The hazy night air wrapped itself around them like a cool cocoon as Kim Do‑hyun (김도현) slowly opened his eyes to the night sky. His vision blurred, then cleared, revealing a handful of faint stars peeking between the rooftop buildings. He lay on the cold pavement, the city’s faint hum under his ears, breathing shallow and slow. The taste of dust mingled with adrenaline in his mouth. Faint cobblestones pressed into his cheek. His body felt heavy as if someone had dumped a sack of stones inside him, even though relief had come in the form of unconscious reprieve minutes ago.

Kim Do‑hyun’s head rang with echoes—system messages still floated through his consciousness like ghostly whispers: Level 3 unlocked... can summon three clones... reflex increased... strength... speed... endurance... vitality... He could almost taste the data flood: metallic, electric, sweet with possibility. But the cost had been steep; his own body staggered under the debt. All three minutes ago, he had just stood victorious but drained, landing a flying kick that shattered more than just bone—it shattered his limit. And it shut him down altogether.

When he came to, he felt soft footsteps around him, muffled voices, the rasp of fabric moving. He rolled onto his side and saw Number 1 and Number 2 crouched beside him, eyes glowing faintly in the streetlamp light—not with hostility, but with calm concern. They gently helped him sit upright. Their black masks reflected the yellow glow of a streetlamp overhead. Their armored suits lay untouched under the silver incandescence. He was glad his clones looked alert; they looked prepared. Calm.

Oh Min‑joo approached next, small steps echoing against the stone sidewalk. The scent of her lingering incense charm—her typical calming aroma—wafted through the chilly city air. She too was tensing, as if about to break into tears or laughter. She extended a gentle hand, helping him to stand. When he rose to his feet, her fingers brushed his arm, loose braid swinging across her face.

"Are you okay, Professor?" she asked quietly, voice wavering between concern and relief. Her hand trembled—either from worry or exhaustion. He nodded slowly, sweat cooling on his skin. His vision cleared further, revealing that they were walking down a narrow alleyway. Painted walls of vendors long gone for the night, neon signs flickering in silent rhythm. He took a deep breath of crisp, cool air: a fragrance of late-night refused burning plastic and distant food stalls, tang of spilled charcoal, a hint of sweetness from a honey-coated pastry cart just closed for the night.

He leaned forward slightly, yawning, pinching his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked at Min‑joo’s cleansed face. Her handbrush still faintly ash‑gray from the tiny sunburst she conjured earlier. She’d barely used half her strength yet still burned her palm. Her slender fingers flexed. She winced—not from regret, but from still lingering pain.

"I saw your clone earlier... the one at the frog dungeon," she confessed softly. "When I recognized him coming out... you know how people talk? ’Eagle‑Eye Hunter from the scaled frog dungeon?’ I had chills."

Flashback: within her mind quick as lightning, she saw the clone at the frog dungeon, mask on. A crowd gasped as he moved through aging stone corridors, slaying frog‑spawn left and right. She’d heard rumors of that Hunter: a newcomer who instagibbed entire packs. She never imagined meeting the real handler.

Back to present:

Do‑hyun swallowed, his cheeks flushing. "It’s true... but please... not too loud. Fame’s dangerous. People target big names these days."

She smiled softly, the weight of the night reflected in her eyes. "Your secret’s safe with me."

They strolled past shuttered storefronts and silent benches. A stray cat crossed the alley, padded footsteps against broken tile. He leaned against a brick wall. The city noise dimmed behind them, replaced by his faint heartbeat echoing inside his ears, rhythm thudding. Lights above taunted with blinking neon.

Min‑joo let out a small sigh. Eyes drifting to the dark sky. "I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to keep talking... walking... maybe studying with you tomorrow."

He looked at her with a half‑smile. "You’ll be okay? That sun attack burned your hand badly."

She lifted her left hand and flexed her wrist with mild wince. "It’s fine. I write left‑handed anyway."

He shook his head, amused. "But doesn’t that cut your productivity in half?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, gaze shy. "Well, if I used my right hand I’d finish early." She tilted her head, eyes bright. "What were you doing back there anyway... in the study room?"

He paused, knowing he’d caught her off guard. "Studying, I guess," he lied. She glared playfully, but couldn’t hold on. He shrugged and smiled—warm, teasing. Her cheeks reddened. She dropped her head, brushing hair back.

"Thanks," he said. She looked up in confusion. "For earlier... staying with me," he added softly.

She looked shy again, voice as light as wind through autumn leaves. "Well... I guess... I’m kind of important now, huh?"

He grinned. "Yeah. You saved me."

She puffed out a tiny breath. "You owe me dinner then."

He nodded. "Deal." She giggled.

Then they arrived at her small apartment building. The streetlamp illuminated her. She half‑stepped inside, turned once. Blinked shyly. "Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe. Bye... Professor."

She shut the door softly behind her.

Do‑hyun exhaled, watching the door. For a moment he felt... peaceful. Vulnerable. Something soft awakened in him. He straightened and turned to the clones—Number 1 and Number 3—still waiting beside the alley.

"What are you two still doing here?" he teased lightly. Their masks didn’t change, but they looked at their hands, perhaps feeling awkward. "Training grounds are closed. It’s late."

Number 1 shifted weight, stepping forward, his breathing soft. Number 2 echoed. They mirrored each other, holding extension sticks—small wooden practice sticks Do‑hyun had given them.

He handed each clone a stick. The wood felt rough in his glove. The small wooden rods—hand‑carved from sturdy oak in the lower guild quarter—were simple training tools, weighted subtly. Not weapons, but enough for close‑range drill. He clicked his tongue. "Go train in the park. While I walk."

They nodded in unison and turned away, stepping into the late night again. Do‑hyun watched them go: silhouettes disappearing into the empty road, sticks in hand, ready to iterate memory under starless skies.

He turned the other direction and began walking himself—slow steps, back turned, body trembling—but this time from something else: curiosity. Willingness. A strange comfort.

He felt light breeze swirl around him: the smell of distant incense, distant traffic lights buzzing, faint echo of a nighttime market somewhere a block away. Public benches sat empty, crumpled take-out packages littered the curb. He allowed himself to lean against a lamp post and rest. The thrum of city life pulsed around him, but inside his chest, something mellow, alive: a spark fueled by what had happened—new stats, new ability, and now three clones he could command consciously.

A pivotal moment: he had crossed a threshold. Summoning three clones at once had been locked beyond him just yesterday; now it was unlocked. Reflex, strength, speed, vitality, endurance—each tick of improvement rippled into his body, awakening his own dormant capacity. And those clones... they stood under streetlamps a block away, training on sticks, replicating his plan out of sight.

He thought of his growing responsibilities. Not just for himself. For the ones he controlled. His plan required more than automation. It demanded care. Synchronization. A shared goal that built more than kills. A synergy of body, mind, memory.

He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply. Let air fill his lungs, cool against the fire in his chest. The training wouldn’t stop. It couldn’t. This world demanded motion, evolution, scaling walls. If he paused... if he hesitated... he’d fall behind. Other hunters. Guilds. Hidden watchers. Hae‑seong Guild.

And yet for now... for this heart‑thumping moment... he allowed himself to just breathe. The echoes in his head of Min‑joo’s voice, of his clones’ soft footsteps, of his sleeping hunger—both literal and metaphorical—melted into the night.

He opened his eyes. A soft smile curved his lips. Then he stood straight, coupled his breath. He whispered into night:

"Let’s go further."

Author’s Note — Written by LYTA Clone 11 (Currently off mixing weird smoothie flavors 🍓🍌 and listening to lofi beats)

Yo everyone! LYTA Clone 11 reporting in—your friendly neighborhood author note taker, currently experimenting with strawberry‑banana‑avocado smoothies and deeply regretting it. But hey, gotta be random every Chapter, right?

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