.
Episode 42 – The Bench, the Bald Hunter, and the Lie with No Blink
The cold stone bench had barely softened beneath his weight when Kim Do-hyun (김도현) exhaled, his mind still buzzing from the aftereffects of clone synchronization. He had just co out of another deep dive, this ti into Clone Number One’s target practice routine. The shared consciousness link had left his senses temporarily scrambled, like a jigsaw puzzle of borrowed mories he hadn’t yet fully sorted. A ringing lingered in his ears. His arm, despite being still, seed to recall the recoil from every shot Number One had fired—his nerves still buzzing with muscle mory that wasn’t quite his. His breathing was shallow, like his chest didn’t know which rhythm to follow anymore.
The evening had settled over the city like a heavy wool blanket, warm but suffocating. A soft breeze wandered through the city park, teasing the tips of the trees and rustling the yellowed pages of an abandoned flyer stuck against a lamp post. The dim glow of the overhead lights painted long shadows across the red pavent, while the distant sounds of traffic and footsteps lted into the city’s night song. Do-hyun leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, letting his eyes rest on the patterned tiles beneath his shoes. For once, the world outside his mind was quiet. Until a soft voice pierced through it.
"Professor... What are you doing here? Sitting all alone like this?"
He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That exasperated but oddly respectful tone. That carefully asured pause before speaking. That faux-polite veneer masking a young girl’s sass.
It was her. Oh Min-joo (오민주). The seventeen-year-old nace who sohow managed to be both his part-ti student and full-ti headache.
Do-hyun slowly turned his gaze upward. And there she was. Her hair, tied in its usual low ponytail, had been tousled slightly by the wind. She wore a light autumn jacket over her school uniform, the white collar peeking out, slightly wrinkled like she had been sitting sowhere for hours. Her school bag hung loosely over one shoulder, far too light for soone who claid to be coming from a full day of studying.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"And what exactly are you doing out here so late, young lady?" His voice carried that familiar tone—a mix of sarcastic concern and dry skepticism.
Min-joo blinked, as if genuinely surprised at the question. "I was studying. At the library."
Do-hyun tilted his head slowly, like a veteran detective staring at a shaky alibi. His brow furrowed just enough to show he was taking notes in his mind. He let a few seconds hang in the air.
"You?" he finally said. "Studying?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You lie so well you don’t even blink anymore."
"I blinked."
"No, you didn’t."
She rolled her eyes, stepping forward and flopping down beside him on the bench like she owned it. Her jacket crinkled against the stone surface, and she sighed dramatically. "You’re being extra suspicious, Professor."
"You brought it on yourself. Last I checked, you’ve been proudly rocking straight sixes on all your mock exams. The only thing you’ve mastered is guessing wrong. And now suddenly you’re the midnight scholar?"
Min-joo scowled. "That’s harsh."
He didn’t respond. His eyes had shifted past her now. Toward the shadows across the path. A small group of n had appeared, standing on the far end of the plaza just beyond the hedge barrier. Three figures, all older, their postures too stiff to be casual. Their gazes weren’t just idle. They were focused—on him.
Do-hyun’s spine stiffened.
And then his gaze froze. One of the n stepped further into the lamplight, and the amber glow revealed it.
That shiny do of a head.
The bald crown glistened like it had been polished, the light bouncing off it like a signal flare.
Kim Do-hyun’s breath caught for just a second. Not out of fear. Not even out of surprise. But sothing colder. Recognition. mory.
That was him.
Carvo.
The bald Hunter who had sucker punched his clone—Number Two—so hard the poor guy left a trail of blood down a hunter café wall. The sa café that, supposedly, was a neutral space for Hunters. Sacred. Safe. Off-limits for violence. But Carvo hadn’t cared. He had cracked his knuckles and launched his rage anyway.
And Do-hyun had recorded all of it.
The punch. The wall impact. The blood. Every single second of it. Captured and stored.
He rembered how Carvo had frozen once he saw the phone. The color had drained from his face not because of guilt, but because of survival. Because Do-hyun had threatened to leak the footage and destroy his career. With one upload, that footage would tear through the Hunter forums like wildfire. A Hunter from the prestigious Hae-seong Guild assaulting a target in a neutral zone?
Guilds would blacklist him overnight.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
Do-hyun rembered the call.
A brief flashback snapped through his mind like a thrown blade.
Carvo’s voice had been hoarse and shaking. "What do you an I’m on thin ice?"
The person on the other end was colder than winter steel.
"If that video leaks, you’re off the Hae-seong Guild," the voice had snapped. "Do you understand what that ans? You’re not one of us anymore. You’re street trash. Click."
Back in the present, Do-hyun’s jaw flexed subtly.
So the bastard had crawled back out.
And judging from the way his fists were clenched and the glare in his eyes, he hadn’t co for a heart-to-heart.
In another alleyway flashback playing out parallel across the city, Carvo had just gotten cornered again by an old gym buddy—soone broader, thicker, the kind who worked out twice a day and ate raw eggs for dessert. Carvo had been ranting, his voice sharp and bitter.
"You don’t understand, man! That little shit ruined everything. Everything! My quota, my rank points, my contract. And he’s the one who fild it too!"
"You sure?" the friend asked.
Carvo’s eyes flared. "I’m sure. I never forget a face. It was him. The skinny one with that smug smile."
Back to the present.
Do-hyun was fully alert now. His posture remained casual, but every nerve beneath his skin had gone into quiet tension. His eyes didn’t leave Carvo’s group. But to the girl beside him, he was just a guy spacing out.
Min-joo finally noticed his stare. She followed his gaze and frowned faintly. "You know them?"
He exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Unfortunately."
She squinted toward the figures in the dark. "That bald one looks angry."
"That’s because he is," Do-hyun murmured. "He’s been waiting to see with my guard down."
She looked at him again, curious now. "Is he dangerous?"
"He’s stupid. That makes him worse."
He stood up slowly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants.
Min-joo’s brows pulled together. "Professor... what’s going on?"
Do-hyun gave her a sidelong glance. "Go ho."
She tilted her head, stubborn as ever. "Why?"
"Because," he said quietly, "I’m about to handle unfinished business."
And the mont he stepped out into the open light, locking eyes with Carvo from across the plaza, the air between them changed.
A story that had been paused was now resuming—and this ti, the caras weren’t rolling.
[End of Episode]
---
Author’s Note – Written by Clone No. 17 (While the Real LYTA is at a Convenience Store Flirting with the Cashier 😎)
Yo readers! It’s again, but not — I’m Clone No. 17, broadcasting live from the third shelf of a cold storage fridge where I’ve been secretly chilling with a half-eaten tuna sandwich and two cans of energy drink that expired last week. anwhile, the real Little LYTA is currently at a nearby convenience store pretending to compare ran prices just so he can make eye contact with the cashier for five extra seconds. Romance? Maybe. But writing? Nah, not right now. That’s all on .
So while our Boss LYTA is off trying to score digits, I need YOU to do the real heavy lifting, yeah?
If you enjoyed this episode — if even one line made you smirk, or made your brain go "Wait, damn, that was cool" — then don’t scroll away in silence like a side character. Show so love! Throw a Power Stone, slap that like button like it owes you money, leave a comnt to let us know you’re alive, and if you’re feeling super aweso, toss in a gift or two. Got a Golden Ticket sitting there looking pretty? Send it over like it’s your vote for LYTA World President.
Wanna really help this novel grow? Add it to your collection, share it with a friend, and maybe even bump up to Privilege so you can see the next episodes before the rest of the world. Nothing is too small. Every tap, vote, and ssage is like an espresso shot straight into LYTA’s creative veins.
We clones are doing our part — so of us are editing, others are sweeping the clone facility, and one of us (Clone No. 9) just accidentally rged with a roomba and now we can’t shut him off. But all we really need... is YOU.
Thanks for reading, supporting, and being part of this madness. Let’s make this story go viral and blow up like a hunter skill out of control. More heat coming soon.
Now excuse — I think this expired yogurt is fighting back.
Stay weird, Clone No. 17
(Currently hiding behind two crates of kimchi and regretting all life choices)
Reviews
All reviews (0)