Episode 22 – Two of Him
Episode 22 – Two of Him
Han Jin-woo (한진우) stood in a daze, frozen in place behind his desk as both versions of Kim Do-hyun (김도현) faced him. The air in the room wasn't just quiet now—it was thick, like the silence that falls before a thunderclap. The kind that made your skin tighten as if the atmosphere itself was waiting for something to explode.
In front of him, one Do-hyun stood beside the now-signed contract. That one wore a yellow hoodie, a small crease running down one sleeve where it had been folded neatly earlier. His fingers still hovered above the red stamp he had just used.
The other Do-hyun—the one who had been seated the entire time—rose to his feet. Calm, composed, and just as solid. His black jacket caught the soft office light with a faint sheen, the kind you only saw on real fabric. No shimmer of illusion. No distortion of light. No hint that he might be a hologram or a mirage.
Han's jaw remained slack.
His eyes flicked between the two again.
One blinked. The other yawned.
Both breathed.
Both shifted weight naturally between their legs.
He reached forward like a man testing a dream, pressing his palm flat to the desk to keep from tipping over. Then he slowly looked down at the contract. The red seal was there. Sharp and wet, slightly uneven like it had been pressed with a real hand.
"W-Wait," Han stammered. "What—?"
Do-hyun—the one in black—spoke first.
"Is there a problem?"
The voice was exactly the same. Calm. Deep. Controlled. But it came from the seated one. Or had it been the one who stamped?
Han blinked again.
His heart was now racing like he had just come face-to-face with a boss mob in a dungeon.
Then the yellow-hooded Do-hyun—who still had one hand on the desk—tilted his head and added, "We're ready to hunt."
Han flinched.
That "we."
They spoke like separate people.
He felt something odd crawl up his spine, the kind of instinct that told a man this wasn't just some parlor trick. This was different. This was not the old clone illusions he'd seen before.
He remembered it now, like a flash of memory slipping out of a drawer left slightly ajar.
Back during the fifth regional raid of Hwanju city, Han had seen a samurai-styled Hunter who could create visual illusions—mirrors of himself that looked identical, with all the poses, the gestures, even the movements. In the dark, they were nearly impossible to distinguish. But once a monster hit one, it was like watching air scatter. No blood. No pain. Just gone.
Those clones were like mist.
But these?
These were not mist.
These were men.
His eyes locked onto the one in yellow. There was something subtly off in how he moved. Not wrong—but independent. There was rhythm in his steps, but not the exact rhythm of the one in black. And that tiny detail was what did it. Han realized, with a cold sweat, that these weren't controlled puppets. Not perfect mirror illusions.
This one moved with agency.
That meant...
They could think?
His chest tightened.
"Hey," Han said, his voice barely holding steady. "Which one of you is... you?"
The two Do-hyuns looked at each other.
The one in black turned slightly, as if studying his own twin.
The one in yellow shrugged and answered with a grin. "Does it matter?"
Han stepped back.
His heel hit the edge of his office chair, and it rolled slightly. He didn't sit.
He couldn't.
The room suddenly felt too small, like the ceiling had lowered a few inches. The air was heavier now, not from fear—but from the sheer presence of two people that were somehow, impossibly, the same.
Do-hyun in black spoke again.
"You asked about my skill earlier."
Han barely nodded.
"I said it was cloning," Do-hyun continued.
"And I thought it was the illusion kind," Han muttered. "The useless type."
Do-hyun in yellow smiled wider.
Han wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream.
"Those clones don't talk," Han went on, trying to keep himself grounded. "They don't hold objects. They're like fog."
Do-hyun in yellow stepped toward the desk, picked up a water bottle that Han had left half-finished, and twisted it open with a crisp click.
He drank.
The sound of the water swallowing down his throat was impossibly loud in the quiet room.
Han's eyes widened.
He didn't say anything now. He couldn't.
Because everything he thought he understood had just shifted.
"Monster distractions," Han whispered to himself, remembering. "The old clones... they were only good for distracting monsters. Nothing more."
He remembered the way Guild rookies used them as bait to throw off creature aggro. Send in the illusion, trigger a monster's attack, then strike from behind.
But these?
He glanced up again.
One Do-hyun was wiping his mouth on his sleeve after drinking.
The other one had picked up a pen and was casually twirling it between his fingers while watching Han squirm.
These were not bait.
These were combatants.
"Are you real?" Han asked quietly, not even sure who he was speaking to anymore.
The two of them exchanged glances.
"We're both real enough," one of them answered.
Han felt a bead of sweat trail down the side of his face.
He finally pulled out his chair and collapsed into it with a soft creak. He dragged a hand down his face and let out a long breath.
"Tell me," he said, eyes fixed on the table. "Tell me how the hell you did this."
Do-hyun didn't answer.
Neither of them did.
Instead, they just stood there, one beside the desk, one across from it—waiting.
Watching.
Han suddenly laughed.
It was short, bitter, and sharp like a cracked tooth.
"I get it now," he said. "You didn't just level up your skill."
The clone raised an eyebrow.
"You evolved it," Han whispered. "Didn't you?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
There was something electric about the moment now, like the static before lightning.
Han stood again, slower this time, and pressed his palms flat against the desk.
"You're not just a beginner, are you?" he said. "You're hiding something deeper."
Still, no answer.
The silence said everything.
Han chuckled softly, bitter at first—then amused. "Alright. Fine. Don't tell me. Keep your secrets."
Do-hyun stepped back, the one in yellow retreating toward the door.
The black-jacketed one nodded once, formal, as if nothing strange had just happened in the last five minutes.
Han leaned back in his chair.
He rubbed at the tension building behind his eyes and muttered to himself.
"Damn it. Just what did we sign up for...?"
Outside the glass window behind him, the city skyline shimmered in twilight. Neon signs blinked to life one by one, each advertising the promise of power, fame, or security in the awakened world.
Inside the office, none of those promises felt real anymore.
Only the two boys.
Or one.
Or neither.
He had no idea anymore.
The door creaked again.
Han looked up instinctively, almost expecting a third Do-hyun to walk in.
But it was just the silence that followed.