Novels by pretty oni chan 7

Chapter 10: Reckoning and PreparationKaelen ran his eyes down the perpetual scroll of information: courses, races and the ugly facts behind the pretty phrases of the Supers Association. His teacher had once preened, pompously, “No discrimination of classes.”Bullshit, Kaelen cursed in his head with a vengeance.No open discrimination, no formal caste system that excluded any group of people, that was at least the case. Yet under the surface Kaelen could see the jagged fissures--the divisions so distinct that they could cut flesh and soul alike. Classes were not equal, by no means.The forum motto, whispered over and over, was There are no weak classes, only weak Awakeners. However, the new information Kaelen had acquired gave a more complicated picture: there were classes with sharper claws, faster wings, or tougher scales than others. The crafty snake and the clumsy turtle were both living, but one was much more deadly.The triad of roles, Combat, Support and Lifestyle, was the only

Chapter 9: Secrets of the MarkWhat Kaelen saw on the screen was misleadingly simple: a clean white background, the severe Supers Association logo flashing in the top corner, and two friendly blank bars marked email and password. No glittering symbols or occult writings to suggest that behind this portal are great secrets.Kaelen grinned to himself and quickly typed in the log-in credentials, which that oddly calm woman at the front desk of the Association had provided. His hands were moving on the screen, excitement and anxiety tingling in his flesh.It was not just a regular site, he thought. I am not merely logging into another hellish social media platform, but I am entering a closed club of supernatural cunts.He tapped sign in with certainty and was instantly transported to another world. The dullness of the log in page was replaced by a vivid churning hive of activity that filled the screen like a hive of buzzing information wasps.The new page was like a forum but drenched wit

Chapter 8: Awakening SecretsThe two-bedroom apartment that Kaelen shared was squatting on the second floor of a plain six-story block, a building that had four identical apartments on each floor. The type of establishment where the walls had echoes of daily struggle and hope intertwined within the flaking paint and humming fluorescent-lights.The living was not luxurious,--not by any means--but it was tolerable, the kind of simple comfort to which one adjusts oneself when life requires patience and silent endurance. Kaelen was sure, in the obstinate optimism of new money and new power, that one day soon he would haul his ragged family out of this little, rented cage and into something befitting the future he could see.Within this common territory, the two-bedrooms were partitioned with some practicality and unspoken demarcations. One was Kaelen, a narrow room overfilled with textbooks and an obstinate green plant that would not die. The other was a joint refuge of Aunt Velithe and h

Kaelen lost no time. He called a taxi, threw a crisp bill to the driver without batting an eyelid, and dropped back into the close, leather-scented seat. His muscles, freshly stirred and tingling with the electric hum of potential energy, could have managed the walk, but why the hell would he punish himself, when he was now so suddenly cash-rich? His home was miles away, and the Supers Association was a cruel journey that would consume at least an hour and a half, and he was not going to demonstrate how stubborn he was by dragging his weary ass through the streets of Woodstone.Frugality was off the books with fifteen thousand federal bucks flashing happily on his phone. This was not the moment to be the poor kid who was always sweating over bus fares and day old bread.The taxi was sliding through the streets of afternoon light and buzzing neon signs, and Kaelen sent a quick message to Aunt Velithe: Registered. I am on my way. Till later. Then, just when the car was going over a spee

Chapter 6: Papers and PromisesThe Supers Association building had a smell of burnt ozone, cheap-soap, and ambition.Kaelen went through the twin doors to find a solemn silence, perhaps a couple of glowing ceiling runes humming with divine bureaucracy. He received noise instead. Chaos. Youth. At least thirty children wandering around like lost cultists in a neon temple.It surprised him. The place had been dead still outside, with a false quietness that is like a predator awaiting lunch. But inside? It was a madhouse of hushed whispers, weary employees and glowing registration sigils that flickered like they were about to fall into digital nausea.The majority of the people here resembled him. Young. Unsettled. Stiff-backed with the kind of posture that screamed “I don't know what I'm doing but I want to look cool while doing it.”And they were New Awakeners, like himself.Kaelen didn't need divine insight to piece that together. With only two Association branches in Woodstone City an

Chapter 5: Registering the DeadThe instructors disappeared like bureaucratic ghosts with hangovers and the nine newly minted Awakeners stood blinking in their newfound freedom. They all hung around as though they did not know what to do, go left, right, or up the social ladder. But Kaelen? He did not tarry.He walked as a man with a mission. He was because.Two things had to be done, and one of them was bureaucratic. The other was holy: to tell the woman who had fed his body, warmed his nights and occasionally slapped sense into him with a spatula that he had not failed. Not this time.The first stop was Supers Association.The basics were already known to the former owner of this body even before Kaelen soul crash-landed into this fucked-up magic-cyberpunk hellscape. Everybody did, hell. This was one of the few things that everyone in the Aurora Realm knew to be true: don not mess with the Association or you would have your kneecaps dissolved in the acid of bureaucracy.The Supers A

Episode 12 – A Clone’s Limit, A Human’s DreamIt was a low, lazy sun outside, and the cramped windows of the apartment were tinted warm orange. The light filtered in through thin curtains, falling over piles of instant ramen wrappers, sweat-soaked gym clothes, and the single futon that marked Kim Do-hyun’s (김도현) tiny kingdom.He threw off his shoes and closed the door behind him with the heel of his foot, a heavy sigh coming between his lips. Home again. His back was sore, his calves were on fire, and his neck was chewed up by a very bad-tempered gorilla. But all that did not appear on his face.“I swear... If I don't get a reward for this grind, I’m gonna start charging the clone rent,” he muttered, voice dry as sand.Yet something was... wrong.The flat was silent. A little too silent. He looked across at the little corner table where the clone folded its work clothes. Nothing. No sign. Still gone?“Seriously?” Do-hyun rubbed his hair that was now a bit greasy and took out his phone

Episode 11 – The Little Spark in the GirlThe sun came in through gauzy curtains into the silent living room. Textbooks and papers were scattered on a small wooden table, each page having sticky notes in bright colors as a miniature flag of despair. There was the smell of perfume, baby shampoo, and tension in the air.Kim Do-hyun (김도현) inhaled slowly and stepped back from the table. There was the sound of a soft hum in his mind, like the memories that lingered in the air of yesterday and today.Min-joo was sitting across the table with her head down. Her black hair fell upon her shoulders like a dark cascade. She would not look at him. She was smaller than yesterday—shy, remote, concealing more than her half-formed sentences.Do-hyun ahemmed.“Okay, give me your score.”He saw her fingers shake a little as she opened the test paper. She folded it out, the folds crisp.The room was silent, as though he was an intruder entering into the dream of another.He bent over, reading the figure

Episode 10 – The Tutor and the TornadoOutside, the morning air was dry and strangely still, as though the world were waiting to breathe. Kim Do-hyun (김도현) stood at the bus stop in his plain sneakers, feeling the heat of the asphalt beneath his feet. He had two phones in his hands. One was the battered old Android he played games on, which now was the property of the clone. The other was his real phone. The actual one. His lifeline. His stress. His chain to the wild world beyond.It buzzed.He glanced at the screen and saw the name: Oh Deok-su (오덕수).The warehouse manager. The person who gave him this insane tutoring job because he saw his so-called genius.His thumb glided over the screen, and he responded with a sluggish, “Hello?”[“You free right now? Come and teach my daughter. She’s home.”]Do-hyun paused. He looked up at the sun as though it had offended him. “Right now?”[“Yeah, right now. She's being difficult again. Come fix her.”]He heaved a sigh. He was tender after yester

Episode 9 – The Gym of Gains and Chicken DreamsIt was a warm wind that morning, and the sun was peeping over the congested skyline as though he were too timid to rise. Kim Do-hyun (김도현) stepped off the bus with a quiet sigh, slinging a cheap nylon gym bag over his shoulder. There was a clean towel, a bottle of water, and nerves he could not quite swallow down.His clone was out there working in the warehouse, performing push-ups on his breaks and living off of old ramen. That left the actual Do-hyun alone on his way to the gym entrance. His steps were irresolute, careful yet firm. That old feeling in his stomach? It was just like it was when he first pressed the button marked Start on some online game—the fear and excitement of going into a dungeon.And then—“YO, YOU BASTARD!”A big palm struck him on the shoulder like a hammer dropped out of the sky. Do-hyun turned around with his eyes wide and was about to run when he saw a mountain of muscle in front of him.It was Nam Tae-joon (

Episode 8 – [Clone on Duty, Boss in Training]The thin curtains of the studio apartment were bleeding morning sunlight through, giving the wooden floor a pale gold shimmer. There was a faint smell of instant ramen, sweat, and cheap detergent, which were all indicators of two bodies living on borrowed time and borrowed energy.Kim Do-hyun (김도현) groaned as he peeled one eye open. His arms and legs seemed to be full of sand. Muscles he didn't even know he had were sore. He turned over and looked at the clock on the wall.7:12 AM.His copy was not returned.Do-hyun sat up slowly, his body grumbling at every movement. He rubbed his eyes, got up, and shuffled over to the kitchenette. A rice cooker, two empty ramen bowls, and three half-opened protein bar wrappers greeted him on the counter like silent witnesses to last night's grind.The click of a door opening behind him turned him.His clone intervened. The garments it wore were wet with perspiration, the face pale, and the eyelids heavy.

EPISODE 7 – “Double Shift”The morning haze still clung to the edges of the city like a sleepy fog refusing to let go. Gray clouds floated lazily overhead, hiding the sun but not the heat. The sidewalk shimmered faintly, soaked in yesterday’s humidity and sweat. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed. Seoul, even in its laziest hours, never truly slept.Kim Do-hyun (김도현) tugged at the collar of his oversized shirt as he approached the rust-covered gates of the logistics center. His nerves were tight, his stomach a tangle of tension, caffeine, and cheap ramen from last night.Next to him stood his “cousin brother,” John Dong.Tall, chubby, silent, with eyes that didn’t blink much. That was the clone. His expression was blank, but that wasn’t new. Emotion wasn’t something Number 1 was programmed to care about.“All right,” Do-hyun whispered, keeping his voice low as a small delivery truck rumbled by behind them. “Simple words. No full sentences unless you’re forced. Don’t talk too much