Ghost Apple

Prologue

It had been five years since the place was reduced to ruins.

No—maybe it was six now.

The ground, gouged out as if from a massive explosion, was rounded and hollow, easily twice the size of a World Cup stadium. That much land—once the site of a sprawling research facility with subterranean levels—had vanished in an instant.

Cha Han-gyeom stood at the center of it all, eyes scanning the barren floor. With no buildings left intact, the only things to see were fragments of rubble and the scorched earth.

There were deep claw marks slashed across the terrain, like something enormous had torn through it. Between the long, gaping trenches were bizarre footprints—shapes so grotesque they couldn’t possibly belong to a human or any known animal. Some of the craters looked like they’d been struck by a whip, and even those bore traces of having been charred by fire.

Only Cha Han-gyeom knew the truth—that all of this had been the work of a single monster. And he was the only one who had witnessed its end.

He tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky.

How tall was Hyung back then…?

Back when his own height wasn’t much different than now, he’d had to look up—way up. Probably around five or six meters tall.

The black beast, once likened to the devil itself, was now only a fading silhouette in his memory. He could recall the general shape, but the finer details had long since slipped away.

But there was one thing he could never forget.

Like the powdery snow now drifting from the sky, that creature had disintegrated into black ash. There’d been a moment when he’d thrown his hands upward, trying desperately to catch the ash as it scattered in the air—trying to hold onto something of it, anything.

In the end, I managed to scoop up a handful from the ground right here.

Just like he had that day, Han-gyeom stretched his arm upward at a slant, reaching for the sky. Tiny snowflakes landed on his palm, only to melt instantly from the heat of his skin.

He slipped a hand into the pocket of his black coat and pulled out a crystal-clear apple that fit perfectly in his grip. It was crafted from ice—so intricately formed that it looked like a piece of glasswork.

“I thought I’d make you something that really suits you.”

“What do you think? Do you like it?”

Yeah, I like it.

It suits me.

An apple, hollow on the inside—utterly empty. Like a ghost.

The ghost apple that person had made was truly strange. It was clearly made of transparent ice, yet it never melted. Even when held with bare hands, it wasn’t cold.

And that’s what made it all the more comforting.

It looked like a flawless apple on the outside, but inside, it was so rotten it had collapsed in on itself—leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell. It felt like he’d been handed a mirror of his own soul.

Standing where the monster had fallen, Han-gyeom let out a faint laugh and released the ghost apple from his hand.

With a sharp crack, a fracture split through it. Then, it shattered.

Only then did the once-glasslike shards of ice begin to melt. Between the melting pieces, dark tendrils of energy rose into the air, dissolving before they could fully take shape.

As he stared down at the rapidly liquefying fragments, a sudden chill swept over Han-gyeom, making him clutch his coat tighter. His body went cold, as though a blade of wind had sliced through his very skin.

“Khh—”

A faint cough slipped out.

Then came another. And another—until they poured from him in a violent, uncontrollable fit.

“Khh! Khh—urk! Khh!”

It felt like his insides were being ripped apart. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, and his lungs were crushed to the point where breathing became impossible.

He collapsed to the ground, his knees giving out beneath him. Hacking harshly, he reflexively covered his mouth with his hand, coughing again and again. Each cough brought waves of agony, like his entire being was trying to erupt from his throat.

“Ugh—kgh! Khh—kuh!”

At last, blood spurted from his mouth. At first, it was bright red, but with every cough, the color darkened.

There was so much of it, his hand couldn’t even begin to stop the flow.

It hurts…

There wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t hurt. Some of his muscles felt like they’d torn apart. Every time he coughed, all the pain in his body seemed to converge at once and explode outward.

Eventually, his lungs gave out. He couldn’t breathe at all.

His vision spun wildly, and his skull felt like it was going to split open. The sensation of his body melting from the inside out was excruciating.

He couldn’t hold on. His body collapsed fully, sprawled on the ground.

Through the haze of his dimming sight, he could still make out the half-melted shards of the ghost apple. Whoever’s presence had once lingered in that apple—it had completely dissipated.

As he blankly watched the pieces melt away, something flickered in the distance. There might’ve been a sound, too, but his ears were ringing too loudly to make anything out.

The figure drew closer, fast. Then shouted.

“Cha Han-gyeom!”

Only then did Han-gyeom realize who the man running toward him was.

The approaching shadow reached him in an instant, grabbing his crumpled body and pulling him into a firm embrace.

Even from the jolt of motion, Han-gyeom no longer had the strength to groan. He couldn’t even make out the words the man holding him was yelling.

The voice, already fading, suddenly cut out.

The shimmering blur in his eyes dissolved—leaving behind only darkness.

He couldn’t tell whether he was floating or crashing into the ground—whether he was being held or simply drifting away. He felt nothing.

Somewhere, an alarm began to sound.

Beep—

A long, thin tone, almost like the cry of a bird.

Surrounded by that endless, piercing noise, Han-gyeom finally drew his last breath.