Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 814

Chapter 814: Real Human Clones?

Total. Absolute. Like reality itself had been politely asked to leave the room and decided not to argue. No noise. No distortion. No error codes. Just absence. A clean, surgical removal of existence from the recording.

Every enhanced processing thread I had... screamed wrong. Not alarmed—offended. Like my systems had just bitten into something poisonous and immediately rejected it.

This wasn’t natural.

This was deliberate.

I frowned.

Rewound. Played it again.

Jack standing.

Jack turning his head.

Black.

Again.

Same result.

I ran it faster. Slower. Frame by frame. Pixel by pixel. My processing power—amplified by the chip’s ascension and the server—tore through the data at speeds that would’ve looked like sorcery twenty-four hours ago, hunting for artifacts, compression ghosts, timing anomalies.

Nothing.

The footage didn’t corrupt.

It ceased.

Those minutes didn’t exist. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

I pushed harder. Let the Omni-Eros Server lean into the gap, tried to reconstruct what had been removed, to infer, to backfill, to brute-force reality into giving me something—

And something pushed back.

Not a firewall.

Not encryption.

Not even counter-intrusion.

Resistance.

Like knocking on a door and finding out the house itself had decided you weren’t welcome. No aggression. No feedback. Just a firm, silent refusal.

I paused.

This was new.

First time.

First time anything had looked at my technology and gone, no.

I switched feeds. Every camera that covered the rooftop. Every angle. Hallways. Stairwells. Exterior cams. Street-level traffic cameras. Satellite feeds that should’ve caught the building from orbit.

All of them showed the same thing.

For the exact same window of time, the world blinked.

Reality took a coffee break.

Someone had reached into the global surveillance net and snipped out a moment they didn’t want remembered.

I exhaled.

Shifted targets.

Trent Holloway.

Trent reacting to something off-camera. His head turning—

Black.

When the footage resumed, the cell was empty.

No exit.

No struggle.

No dramatic escape.

Just... gone. Like someone had deleted a file and forgotten to empty the recycle bin because they didn’t need to.

I ran the analysis again.

Same resistance.

Same void.

Reality had a habit of stepping out whenever something important happened.

I sped up. Pulled more names. More faces. More enemies who had once thought themselves untouchable.

Marcus Webb.

Files. Location data. Movement logs.

Gone.

But not erased.

Replaced.

I found him sitting in a CIA interrogation room, answering questions with the calm professionalism of a man who knew the script and had rehearsed it.

At a glance, it was perfect. Convincing. Boring.

Too boring.

I leaned closer. Zoomed in. Let my perception dig past skin and posture into the micro-behaviors people didn’t know they had.

After all from everything I just seen... I had doubts.

Blink rate.

Wrong.

Off by 0.003 seconds from baseline. A deviation so small it would slip past every human analyst alive. But I wasn’t human anymore. Not fully.

Breathing.

Too clean. Too consistent. Seventeen breaths per minute. Every cycle identical. No stress variation. No cognitive spikes. No subconscious drift. Humans breathe like chaos pretending to be order.

This one breathed like a metronome.

And the pupils—

When the interrogator mentioned a name, Helena and Dmitri—someone that should have mattered—the emotional response lagged. Two-tenths of a second late. The feeling arrived, but the timing was off. Like a badly synced dub.

That wasn’t Marcus Webb.

That was a replacement.

A clone. Perfect from across the room. Flawless to any human eye. But at the microscopic level—where intention betrayed itself—the lie leaked.

Whoever had done this had biotech on par with mine.

Maybe better.

Vincent Castellano.

Antonio Rivera.

Same pattern.

Clones in custody. Originals vanished. Blackouts in the footage. Gaps in reality that refused to be filled.

Someone was cleaning the board.

And doing it quietly.

Someone who could manufacture human replacements.

Just not my kind.

Soo-Jin’s hand drifted to her weapon. Muscle memory. "A threat?"

"Maybe," I said. Then smiled. "Or maybe just someone finally worth my attention."

This time, I slid on my Neutral Quantum Glasses.

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