Sunday morning sunlight crept through the gap in the curtains, casting pale streaks of light onto the wooden floor. The small kitchen in the international student dormitory in Osaka still carried the lingering scent of cheap instant coffee and the leftover Takoyaki from the night before.
Tran Nhat Hoang sat quietly on an old stool, both hands resting on the scratched plastic table. Before him, sitting imposingly on a white ceramic plate, was an apple.
A shiny red apple, perfectly round, its stem still attached along with a small, slightly wilted leaf. From the outside, it looked no different from any apple sold at the supermarket for a hundred yen. Hoang had picked it up near Senriyama Station—the very place where, just the night before, he had thrown a heaven-sent punch straight into the face of that crazed assassin.
Thinking back, he could still feel the heat burning in his right palm. Not from pain. But from an indescribable sensation—as if a small flame had flickered inside his veins and then gone out.
I punched a knife-wielding bastard and sent him flying.
Hoang smirked to himself. A smile mingling the exhilaration of having survived a life-or-death battle, and the skepticism of someone who was only used to holding pens and books. He reached out and gently touched the apple's skin. The surface was smooth, cool. He had washed it thoroughly under the tap, as if trying to scrub away all the terrible things that had clung to it that night.
"What the hell... is this thing?"
Hoang muttered. He remembered it vividly. When he threw that punch, the assassin had dropped something from his hand. An apple. An absurdly ordinary apple. And in the chaos, when everything had ended, when Isao was carried off by Zebra, when Misaki and he stood dazed in front of the police box, he had seen it lying by the roadside. A bright red apple on the grey asphalt.
He had picked it up. Not out of greed. But as... a trophy. Something to prove that the night before hadn't been a dream. That he, Tran Nhat Hoang—a bookworm international student, the Library Destroyer, the Kanji War God—had truly survived an encounter with those who hunted "Dream Apples."
Dream Apples...
Hoang shuddered. That term had been swirling in his head since yesterday. The things Isao had said, the things Misaki had explained—everything revolved around a fruit that granted humans supernatural powers, but at the same time was a deadly curse.
"Could... could this be one of them?"
He picked up the apple, turning it before his eyes. Red skin. Brown stem. No strange glow. No "Made in Heaven" label or skull engraved on it. Just an apple. And he—someone who had just experienced the most horrifying night of his life—suddenly craved something sweet, something pure, to calm his nerves.
Forget it. It's probably just a regular apple. No way I'd stumble on a Dream Apple this easily. Besides... I didn't show any symptoms yesterday. No fire, no ice, no lightning. Just a slightly strong punch.
Hoang reassured himself with the half-baked logic of a bookworm. He raised the apple to his mouth.
This is a reward. A reward for staying alive. For saving Misaki. For Isao being okay.
Thinking so, he opened his mouth and took a huge bite.
CRUNCH!
The crisp sound of the apple skin breaking echoed in the silent kitchen. The sweet juice flooded his mouth... No. Wait.
Hoang chewed slowly. Then chewed some more. Then swallowed.
There was no taste at all.
Literally. The piece of apple in his mouth felt exactly like chewing a piece of foam. Not sweet. Not sour. Not bitter. No fragrance. Just the lifeless, gritty sensation of something being crushed between his teeth.
"What the hell?"
Hoang looked down at the apple in his hand. The first bite revealed the inside flesh—a deep, unsettling blue-green. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. No apple scent. He licked it. No taste whatsoever.
A chill ran down his spine as he stared at that deep blue-green flesh. Was it some new apple variety? His heart skipped a beat. Not from fear. But from a vague premonition, as if he had just done something incredibly stupid.
Knock knock knock!
A sudden knock at the door cut through Hoang's tangled thoughts. He jolted, nearly dropping the apple. Hastily placing it back on the plate, he stood up, quickly wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and headed for the door.
Who would come at this hour? Isao's probably still catching up on sleep after that near-death ordeal. The landlord went back to the countryside...
He opened the door.
A cascade of champagne-blonde hair, reaching down to the waist and shimmering in the morning sunlight, struck his eyes first. Large, round eyes, clear as crystal, curved up like two crescent moons. A gentle, fresh scent of cherry blossom shampoo drifted past.
"Good morning, Hoang-san!"
Minamoto Misaki stood there, holding a small cream-colored paper bag with the logo of a famous bakery near the station. She wore a simple pastel blue dress, layered with a thin, milk-white wool cardigan. She looked completely different from the Esper fleeing for her life the night before. Right now, she was simply a beautiful young girl, radiant as the morning sun.
"Huh... Misaki? You... you found my place?"
Hoang stammered, his face flushing bright red. He instinctively reached up to smooth his hair, hoping it didn't look too much like a crow's nest after a restless night.
"Hee hee, super easy! I just asked some of the international students at the Osaka University dorm and found you right away. You're pretty famous, you know—'The Bookworm War God'!"
Misaki giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Hoang wanted to sink into the floor. Just how far had that damn nickname spread?
"Come on, come in. Please... please come in." He stepped back, opening the door wider. "What brings you here? Is there more dangerous stuff going on?"
Misaki walked in, gently placing the bag of pastries on the kitchen table. Her eyes swept around the small room, obsessively tidy in the way only an international student's room could be: books stacked neatly, a laptop on the desk, a few cups of instant noodles and coffee on the shelf.
"Nothing dangerous at all! I just wanted to come and thank you. What happened the night before... If it weren't for you and Takahashi Isao-san, I'd be a goner for sure."
Her voice lowered, a touch of melancholy in her eyes. But she quickly perked up, patting the pastry bag.
"I bought some cakes to thank you. Also... I wanted to check if you were hurt anywhere. I was so worried yesterday!"
"I'm fine. Just my hand's a bit sore." Hoang waved it off with a wry smile. "As for Isao... he's probably lounging around somewhere, healthy as a horse by now. Thanks to that Zebra guy."
"Sensei Zebra is always like that. Hyperactive, loud, but super reliable!" Misaki laughed. Then her gaze suddenly stopped.
On the kitchen table.
The white ceramic plate.
And the red apple with a single bite taken out of it.
An almost unconscious habit stirred within Misaki. Ever since she had eaten a "Dream Apple" and gained her Clairvoyance ability, she had developed an "occupational hazard": whenever she saw an apple, she would instinctively activate her power to scan it. Just to check if it was "the real deal." Like a bomb disposal expert walking past an unattended suitcase—even off-duty, instinct compelled them to assess if it might be a bomb.
Misaki's pupils flickered with a pale blue light. Thin, luminous veins traced around her irises, rotating slowly and coldly. The apple's skin became transparent in her eyes. The bizarre, deep blue-green flesh revealed itself. Then deeper, right at the very core of the apple...
A speck of light.
A tiny, flickering point of light, of a color that couldn't be named. It wasn't physical light. It was a form of "information" that only those with the appropriate ability could perceive. A miniature "symbol," harboring a raw, mysterious power.
The blood in Misaki's veins froze solid.
Dream... Dream Apple!
Her mouth fell open, her eyes returning to normal, filled with sheer horror. She whipped around to look at Hoang, who was still standing there with a goofy smile, his face the picture of innocence, like a child caught sneaking candy.
"Hoang... Hoang-san..." Her voice trembled. "This apple... did... did you eat it?"
Hoang blinked, slightly surprised by her intense reaction. He scratched his head, pointing at the apple on the plate.
"Ah, I just took one bite. It was weird, though—no taste at all. Probably some cheap fake Chinese apple. Why?"
A shattering sound echoed inside Misaki's head. She staggered back a step, both hands flying to her mouth. Her eyes began to redden.
"No... no way... You... you really ate it? You actually ate it?"
"Yeah, I ate it. Why? What's going on?" Hoang was starting to worry. Misaki's reaction didn't look like a joke at all. "Hey, don't tell me..."
"That's a Dream Apple, Hoang-san!"
Misaki cried out, her voice breaking as if she were about to burst into tears. She lunged forward, snatching the apple off the plate and holding it up before Hoang's face like evidence in a courtroom.
"The apple you just ate... is a real Dream Apple! I just saw the strange color of the flesh inside with my clairvoyant eyes! Do you know what that means?!"
Hoang froze. The entire world around him seemed to be swallowed by a white fog. All he could hear was the frantic pounding of his heart in his chest, and Misaki's trembling voice echoing in his ears.
"If... if your 'Soul' doesn't match the 'Symbol of Power' of that apple... you'll die. If it does match, you'll gain a Supernatural Ability and biological immortality. But... the chance is so rare... only about one in a hundred thousand, historically..."
Misaki choked, her arms dropping limply. The apple fell onto the table, rolling once before lying still.
"Exactly one year from today. You'll die."
The small kitchen fell into silence. Hoang could hear the ticking of the wall clock, every beat like an invisible countdown timer that had just been activated. He looked down at his right hand—the hand that had held the apple, that had brought it to his mouth, that had personally signed his own death warrant.
One year.
The life of an international student, with so many unfinished dreams, with five years of relentless effort, would all come down to just one more year?
"No... no way..."
Hoang whispered, his voice hoarse. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. A chilling, terrifying feeling—worse than any fear he had experienced that night—was rising in his chest, strangling his heart.
Am... am I going to die?
Misaki bit her lip hard, trying to calm herself. She knew this wasn't the time to panic. She was an Esper. She had studied these things at the Academy. She had to do something to help him.
She took a deep breath, placing both hands on Hoang's shoulders, forcing him to look into her eyes.
"Hoang-san, listen to me! The most important thing right now is not to panic. But... do you feel anything strange in your body? After eating that apple?"
Hoang stared at her blankly. Strange? He tried to sense his body. Heart still beating. Lungs still breathing. Arms and legs moving fine. Except... there was still that burning sensation in his right palm, like a dying ember that hadn't quite gone out.
"I... I don't know. I think... my body feels a bit hot. But it's not very clear."
Misaki let out a small sigh of relief. Symptoms were good. Symptoms meant his body was reacting to the apple. If that reaction led to a specific ability, then he would live.
"Alright! That means there's hope! Listen, in the next few days, maybe even the next few hours, you have to pay extremely close attention to any changes in your body. Even the smallest thing. A headache, a strange dream, or if you suddenly find yourself able to... see through walls, or your hand shoots fire or something. Anything unusual, you have to tell me immediately, understand?"
Hoang nodded like a machine. His mind was still reeling. From an outsider who just wanted a normal study-abroad life, he had suddenly become the epicenter of a deadly curse. A life-or-death gamble that he didn't even know he'd placed a bet on.
He looked down at his right palm. Still just a normal hand, with calluses from holding pens and baseball bats.
But he knew, deep inside it, something had changed. A flame—or a curse—had been planted. And he would have to live in anticipation over the coming days, to see whether it would bloom into power, or incinerate his entire life within the span of a single year.
One year...
Do I really only have one year left?