Mom is standing at the kitchen counter when I walk in.
She's wearing her "serious morning" face. Coffee in one hand. Reading glasses low on her nose. Like she already knows something weird is about to happen.
I place the envelope in front of her.
"I didn't apply," I say again.
She doesn't answer at first. Just studies the seal.
Then she breaks it open.
The paper unfolds with a soft, expensive-sounding slide.
Her eyes scan the page.
Once.
Twice.
Then she lowers it slowly.
"…Ren."
"Yeah."
"This isn't a prank."
"I know."
"Nova-1?" she repeats quietly.
I shrug like that somehow makes it less insane. "Apparently."
She reads part of it out loud.
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for admission into Astra Hero Institute's Nova-1 combat track. Your presence is required for orientation at 10:00 a.m. today."
"Today?" I echo.
She checks the clock.
9:12 a.m.
We both stare at each other.
"Well," she says carefully, "you'd better get dressed."
Twenty minutes later I'm back upstairs, staring at myself in the mirror.
Seventeen.
Five foot seven.
Black hair that refuses to cooperate.
Normal.
I lift my hand slightly.
A thin flame blossoms over my palm — steady, obedient.
Controlled.
I close my fingers and it disappears.
Fire.
That's fine.
Fire is normal for hero schools.
The other thing isn't.
I stare at my reflection a little longer.
"You're not using it," I tell myself.
My reflection doesn't argue.
Back downstairs, Mom is folding the letter carefully like it's some kind of sacred document.
"Do you think this is a mistake?" I ask.
She looks at me for a long moment.
"No."
That answer hits harder than I expect.
"Why not?"
"Because," she says softly, "someone went out of their way to put you there."
That's exactly what worries me.
I grab my bag.
The house feels smaller as I walk toward the door.
Mom stops me before I leave.
"Ren."
I turn.
"If this is real… then someone believes you can be a hero."
Her smile is warm. Proud.
I smile back.
"I'll make you proud."
I mean it.
I step outside.
The air is cool.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
As I close the door behind me, the porch light flickers once.
Then steadies.
I don't notice.
I start walking toward the station.
Toward Astra.
Toward the place I never applied to.
And as I reach the end of the street, a strange thought crosses my mind —
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Just a quiet certainty.
Something has been waiting for me.
And today, it's finally awake.