Is There A Romance Subplot In 'Auto Hunting With My Clones'?

Absolutely! The romance in 'Auto Hunting with My Clones' sneaks up on you like a stealthy side quest. The protagonist's dynamic with the sharp-witted guild officer Elise starts as pure professional rivalry—she thinks his clone ability is cheating, he thinks her rule-stickling is annoying. But as they keep being thrown together on high-stakes missions, their banter turns into something warmer. The real kicker? His clones develop slight personality variations, and one particular clone starts flirting with her independently. It creates this hilarious tension where she can't tell if she's being wooed by the original or a copy.

What I love is how the romance doesn't overshadow the hunting action. Their relationship grows through shared battles—like when Elise abandons protocol to save a wounded clone, realizing she cares more about him than the rules. The author drops subtle hints about deeper feelings during campfire scenes between missions, where they discuss their pasts. It's slow-burn done right, with just enough teasing moments to keep you invested without derailing the main plot.

binging this entire series over the weekend was the best decision I made all month, and holy cow, that romance subplot? It’s like a onion—peel back one layer, and there’s another twist waiting to make your brain go “whoa.” At first glance, you’re like, “Cool, protagonist guy is busy cloning himself to level up as a hunter—standard shonen stuff.” But by volume 3? The relationships swerve into this wild, wonderful territory you didn’t see coming.​
Let’s start with Elise. That initial “will-they-won’t-they” tension? So classic, you can almost predict the banter: “Ugh, stop getting cloned mid-battle and help me!” “Hey, these copies are saving your butt!” But then—boom—the author hits you with the good stuff. The clones aren’t just carbon copies, right? One’s a total daredevil who’ll charge into a monster’s den to protect Elise, another’s a softie who remembers her favorite tea order. And suddenly, Elise isn’t just crushing on the protagonist—she’s navigating feelings for versions of him that are low-key different people. It’s messy, it’s confusing, and it’s brilliant.​
That one arc? The badly injured clone confessing to her before dissolving? I swear, I ugly-cried. He’s fading away, telling her he loves her, and Elise is just standing there, holding his hand as he turns to smoke. Then the original protagonist walks in, and you can feel the weight of it—did that clone’s feelings count? Were they “real” if he was just a copy? The protagonist starts questioning it too, replaying the memory like a broken record. It’s not just drama—it’s a full-on existential crisis wrapped in a love story. And Elise? She doesn’t brush it off. She sits with it, which makes you love her even more.​
Then comes the rival female hunter—and let me tell you, she’s no generic third wheel. This woman’s a badass S-rank hunter with a sword that could cut through steel, and she doesn’t bat an eye at the protagonist… but she does take notice of his “chill clone.” You know the one—the copy who’s less focused on rankings and more into stargazing after battles. They bond over late-night campfires during guild missions, talking about fears and dreams, and suddenly you’re yelling at the page, “Wait, is this a second love triangle? With a CLONE?!” It’s not 狗血，though. It’s a legit question: if a clone has his own quirks, his own memories, his own heart—can he fall in love separately? The series leans into that philosophy hard, and it’s fascinating.​
What’s genius is how none of this feels tacked on. The romance weaves right into the core themes—self-discovery, what makes a person “themself,” the whole “consciousness is weird” rabbit hole. Those S-rank hunts? They’re not just for action. When Elise and the protagonist (and his clones) barely survive a nest of acid-spitting demons, that trauma bonds them. When they’re patching each other up afterward, laughing at how a clone accidentally cloned itself mid-fight? That’s vulnerability. That’s how love grows here—not with grand gestures, but with “I’ve got your back, even when your clones are being idiots.”​
By the latest volume? Their partnership is goals. Elise doesn’t just stand there cheering—she’s strategizing. “Send the stealth clone left to flank, keep the tank clone front and center, and you—original you—stay back to heal them.” She knows each copy’s strengths like the back of her hand, and he trusts her to call the shots. It’s beautiful, honestly. No more will-they-won’t-they—they’re a team, in love and in battle, and it feels earned.​
If you’re tired of romance that’s just “meet cute, kiss, done,” this series is a game-changer. It asks big questions, tugs at your heartstrings, and still gives you that warm, fuzzy feeling when things work out. Trust me—you’ll be rooting for them (and their clones) the whole way.

The romance in 'Auto Hunting with My Clones' hits different because it's woven into the power mechanics. Protagonist's ability creates this unique dating scenario—imagine going on a date with five versions of the same guy, each slightly altered. The guild officer Elise initially hates his guts for exploiting loopholes in hunting regulations, but her frustration slowly morphs into respect when she sees how he risks clones to protect civilians during monster attacks.

Their chemistry shines during downtime between hunts. There's this recurring motif where Elise teaches different clones how to cook, unaware that skills learned by copies sometimes bleed into the original's muscle memory. When he suddenly prepares her favorite dish perfectly one day, it shocks both of them. Moments like these make their connection feel earned.

The series also plays with romantic tropes in fresh ways. Instead of amnesia plots, we get emotional whiplash when a clone disappears mid-conversation, leaving Elise talking to a blank spot. Jealousy takes on new meaning when she wonders if the original is ignoring her while other clones are off flirting elsewhere. What could've been a gimmick instead becomes a thoughtful examination of how superpowers would realistically complicate love.