"White Room."
Upon hearing this familiar term from Tsukishiro's mouth, Sakayanagi Narimori couldn't help but furrow his brow. To others, this phrase might seem somewhat obscure, but for both Narimori and Tsukishiro, it was something they knew intimately—down to its very core.
As a plan secretly proposed and implemented by the Naoe faction, the largest power bloc within the ruling party, the White Room had been running for ten years. Although no particularly hopeful results had been announced to the public, the project had never been terminated. They had even gone so far as to appoint political rising star Ayanokouji Atsuomi to oversee it, pulling him away from politics entirely to focus on pushing the plan forward. All of this demonstrated just how seriously Naoe Jinnosuke took the project.
Yet Narimori knew even more. His father was a major figure in another political bloc within the party—the Kijima faction. Naoe Jinnosuke and Kijima were direct rivals vying for the role of Prime Minister. With Kijima's backing, the Sakayanagi family had successfully established the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.
Thanks to the positive public image of the school, Kijima had gained widespread media exposure in the past two years, and his approval ratings had soared.
In this light, the creation of the White Room could even be interpreted as a counter to that success by the Naoe faction. After all, both were initiatives within the field of education.
A guaranteed 100% graduation and employment rate versus the creation of artificial geniuses—even their objectives seemed to converge.
But Narimori quickly pulled himself out of those thoughts, his expression darkening as he said: "Judging by age, the child should be from the fourth or fifth generation of the White Room."
"But from what I know, a large number of students in both the fourth and fifth generations have already been eliminated."
Tsukishiro took a sip of tea and responded: "So? Are you hoping that child has already been eliminated?"
Narimori shook his head, his tone conflicted: "I don't know. I can't even tell if it would be better for that child to have been eliminated or to still be there."
"Heh."
Tsukishiro let out a short laugh, his voice laced with mockery: "The truth is, once a child is sent in there, there are no good outcomes left for them."
"Yeah."
Recalling the glimpses he had caught of that place in the past, Narimori sighed again: "That facility is nothing like what an educational institution should be. And it can never produce a true genius."
"Sakayanagi-san, you don't seem to match the rumors."
"Rumors?"
Narimori blinked in slight confusion.
"Of course. After all, aren't you planning to visit the White Room soon?"
Tsukishiro leaned lazily against the back of the sofa, his voice tinged with teasing amusement.
"It's just a private visit by invitation. I haven't been there in a long time," Narimori explained with a nod. "But since the clues point toward the White Room, this visit might come at just the right time."
"Have you found the child's name yet?"
"Each child in the White Room is assigned a random name. Their past names are meaningless."
Tsukishiro shook his head and elaborated: "But each generation doesn't have that many students. If we can confirm the gender, we can halve the possibilities. It shouldn't be too hard to track them down."
"Hmm."
Narimori nodded thoughtfully and stood up to bid farewell: "Then I'll leave the investigation to you, Tsukishiro-san."
"And I wish you a smooth visit."
With a flawless smile, Tsukishiro stood as well to see him off.
Only after Narimori's figure had disappeared from sight did Tsukishiro slump back into the sofa, closing his eyes slowly as he whispered: "The White Room... what a foolish and terrifying thing."
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A sudden surge of heat exploded in Kitagawa Ryo's chest, his heart racing uncontrollably. The intense sensation seemed to erupt like a wildfire, scorching every corner of his consciousness. For a brief moment, even breathing became a struggle. Then, like magma erupting from a volcano, overwhelming dizziness and hallucinations consumed him entirely.
"An arterial injection... insane."
His vision darkened, as if a black veil had been draped over his eyes. Everything around him became a blur. Struggling to return to his room, Kitagawa Ryo collapsed directly onto the lower bunk.
This was the second time he and Yuki had swapped beds. At first, Ryo moved to the top bunk voluntarily, thinking Yuki was unaccustomed to it. But after the constant drugging by the White Room, even the simple task of climbing to the top bunk had become too difficult.
Dulling his perception of pain, discarding it, deceiving his brain through self-denial, Kitagawa Ryo gave up on thinking entirely.
Unaware of the changes taking place outside, Ryo remained trapped within the White Room. In truth, after using the one-time item known as [Engagement Contract], his life hadn't changed in the slightest.
He had become a mere symbol—an idealized image crafted by the White Room, used as an aspirational figure to push the fifth-generation students forward.
To secure his cooperation, they had increased both the dosage and frequency of the medication without hesitation. Today, they had even taken the extreme measure of using an arterial injection.
"Cough..."
Too weak to even turn on the lights upon entering, Ryo lay in total darkness. The room was utterly empty, save for him. His drug-heightened senses began to blur into delusions—it felt as though something invisible was watching him, ready to devour him.
Reality twisted. A nauseating sense of disorientation set in. The spinning world refused to stabilize, and closing his eyes did nothing to shut it out. Everything turned into chaotic static, like a television with no signal—distorted and pulsing moment by moment.
It was as if he had returned to that cramped, lightless basement again. Curled up on the bed, Ryo panted heavily, his chest rising and falling like an old bellows.
His body and mind felt completely disconnected. His flesh, weak and limp, lay dead; his spirit, wild and unruly, roared upward as if trying to break free from his skull.
Something snapped inside him. The world spun uncontrollably. Kitagawa Ryo lost consciousness.
When Yuki opened the door, she froze. The room was swallowed in darkness, thick and unmoving, with a sharp scent in the air that stung her nose like a blade.
Suddenly, realization struck. She turned on the light in an instant and rushed to the bed.
The pungent stench of blood, sharp and vivid, slashed through the last shred of the child's reason.
There was no time to verify anything. Just seeing Kitagawa Ryo's horrible state was enough. Without hesitation, Yuki turned and sprinted out of the room.
Her first instinct was to find an instructor. But the White Room, now deep into the night, was deserted. All she could do was run through the corridors, pounding her fists on every door she could find, open or shut.
She forgot all rules about curfews or restrictions. It was like some strange ritual: if she just kept going, she might be able to save Ryo.
In a way, she was also trying to save herself.
"How fascinating."
An assistant watching the scene through surveillance footage shook his head in amazement.
"Go help him. This test is over."
With his confirmation, the medical team, already on standby, rushed into the dormitory and placed the unconscious Ryo onto a stretcher.
"After this incident, she should behave more obediently."
Yuki, staggering back into the room, happened to see the adults carrying Ryo away. Her face was still clouded with anxiety and panic. She opened her mouth as if to say something but ended up stepping aside, letting the very people who had harmed Ryo take him away once more.
Just moments earlier, these were the very people she had gone to find. Yet now, as they carried Ryo off, she felt a sudden, burning anger and helplessness.
As they passed each other, she instinctively wanted to speak, but one look from the man at the rear silenced her. She could only stand still like a rooted tree, watching them disappear into the distance.
What unfolded before her was a despair so real it seemed tangible. The last man even smiled at her before leaving. That smile was like a waking nightmare—inescapable and paralyzing.
That night, Kitagawa Ryo was not brought back.
Yuki slept alone, curled tightly in the deepest corner of the bed.
The familiar, terrifying scent still clung to the sheets. Bloodstains, like tiny sparks, slowly baked her body from within.
Clutching the blanket tightly, Yuki eventually fell asleep.
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Gradually regaining consciousness, Kitagawa Ryo opened his eyes, unsure for a moment whether he was still inside the simulation or had already failed and returned to reality. But the metallic taste of blood lingering in his mouth and the scene before him quickly helped him make the judgment.
Maybe all the accumulated discomfort had been waiting for this very moment to explode. Within seconds of becoming lucid, a violent wave of pain coursed through his entire body. Most alarming was the howling agony of his heart, pounding inside his chest.
[Bacterial Endocarditis]
Thanks to his purple-tier [Physician] talent, he was able to roughly diagnose the cause based on his symptoms. Ryo couldn't help but let out a sigh.
Addictive drug injections often lead to complete immune system collapse. Along with hepatitis B, hepatitis C, and sepsis, bacterial endocarditis was a common complication.
What made him want to laugh and cry at the same time was that this condition frequently appeared in people with congenital heart defects, such as atrial or ventricular septal defects. Even without a stethoscope, Ryo's years of research into congenital heart diseases told him that his heart must be roaring with harsh, irregular murmurs at that very moment.
He seemed to be lying on a hospital bed. Straining his head to the side to get a better look at his surroundings, Ryo was immediately struck with dizziness again. His right hand twitched slightly, and some blood flowed backward into the IV tube, tinting the transparent line a faint pink.
"You're awake? Don't open your eyes. Just rest."
He heard a familiar voice but couldn't immediately tell who it was. A small hand gently caressed his head while the other pressed down on his right hand, perhaps to prevent him from moving again.
The metallic taste in his mouth intensified. Ryo squinted and saw the person beside his bed retrieve a cup of water from the nightstand and bring it to his lips.
"Want to drink some?"
He couldn't speak at all. Compared to his past simulations at this age, this one was almost unbearably painful. He could only sip the warm water slowly from the cup held to his lips.
"It's okay. I'm here."
"Ryo will be fine. You're just sick right now. You'll get better soon."
The water helped a little. Ryo tried to open his eyes again to get a clearer look, but he was stopped by a gentle gesture—a kiss on the forehead.
He caught a glimpse of the person's eye color at close range.
The beautiful firefly-green hue almost made Ryo hallucinate.
But then he realized—this had to be Amasawa Ichika.
His sluggish mind hadn't even processed where he was yet, and now it had to grapple with the question: Why was she here?
His lips parted slightly, as if to ask, but before he could utter a word, Ichika gently placed her finger over them.
A wave of sleepiness surged over him once again. Kitagawa Ryo slipped back into unconsciousness.
"As you can see, Ryo is seriously ill."
"By all rights, he should have been eliminated."
Ichika, having stepped out of the room, heard a man in a white lab coat say this. Like a textbook White Room student, she didn't ask for explanations—she simply asked:
"What do you need me to do?"
"Work hard. Work harder. Then work even harder."
The assistant replied casually with a smile. Pointing to the room, he said:
"Do his share of the work too. If you do that, he can survive."
Watching her nod firmly in agreement, the assistant added:
"If your performance is outstanding tomorrow, you'll get another chance to visit."
After dismissing the most zealous student of the fifth generation, the assistant entered the room and looked down at the sleeping Kitagawa Ryo.
Acute bacterial endocarditis—that was the doctor's recent diagnosis.
Symptoms included high fever, fatigue, and frightening subcutaneous petechiae on the face and neck.
Shaking his head, the assistant jotted down a note in his file:
"Rhesus Monkey Test Follow-up 3: Harlow once asked his assistant to create a realistic monkey face mask as part of a control group for his experiments. But before the mask was completed, a baby monkey had already been born. Harlow placed the baby with a faceless cloth 'mother.' The infant clung to it with affection. However, when the realistic face mask was finally introduced, the baby screamed in terror at the sight and cowered in the corner of the cage, trembling."
[Our needs go beyond mere hunger. We strive to form connections. The first face we see becomes the most beloved one in our hearts—and that image is almost impossible to erase.]
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