It was a pure white facility, matching its name perfectly.
Holding her father's hand as they stepped inside, Sakayanagi Arisu quickly realized that it wasn't just the exterior—everything inside, from the walls to the corridors to the floors, was an endless sea of white.
The staff and the children under training were also dressed in white. Their gown-like uniforms reminded Arisu of prison clothing.
Leading them was Ayanokouji Atsuomi's assistant, who respectfully introduced everything they passed along the way: the failed first, second, and third generations; the newly initiated sixth to ninth generations; and the most critically observed groups—the fourth and fifth generations.
Letting go of her father's hand, Arisu curiously trotted over to the one-way glass of a nearby classroom. Her small frame pressed against the panel as she watched the children inside—all about her age—with rapt attention.
"This is the fifth-generation classroom," the assistant explained, joining her. With a teasing smile, he added:
"Although they're a little younger than Sakayanagi-san, the fifth-generation students are extremely capable. In fact, they're considered the most promising group overall."
Inside, the children were engaged in intensive training far beyond what one would expect for their age. Each of them moved with the ferocity of wild beasts.
What caught Arisu's attention was a red-haired girl standing out with her remarkable performance.
"Is that the success you mentioned before, Papa?" she asked, glancing up.
Both her father and the assistant shook their heads.
"She's from the fifth generation," the assistant clarified. "While Ichika's performance is impressive, she still falls short in academic achievement. But that too is a result of our educational methods."
When it came to Ayanokouji Kiyotaka—the White Room's most successful case—even the assistant couldn't help but glow with pride.
Due to Narimori's cautious attitude, Atsuomi had chosen to conceal the darker truths of the facility. Compared to the strictly controlled fifth-generation students, Kiyotaka, who had excelled since birth, was the ideal candidate to showcase the White Room's success.
"There's something I'd like to discuss with Ayanokouji-sensei. Where is he now?" Narimori asked quietly while Arisu remained engrossed.
"He's in his office. He planned to meet with you after finishing work, but if it's urgent, I can guide you there."
"I'd appreciate that."
He patted Arisu's head gently.
"Stay here for a bit. I'll be back soon."
"Okay."
Still resting her chin on her hands, Arisu replied absently as she continued observing the fifth-generation classroom.
Even through the glass, she could feel something different about these children.
Narimori shook his head, somewhat helplessly. He had expected Arisu to be curious, but not this intensely.
Following the assistant, he soon arrived at Atsuomi's office. The assistant knocked politely:
"Ayanokouji-sensei, Sakayanagi-san is here to see you."
"Come in."
A crisp voice answered from inside. Narimori stepped past the assistant and opened the door himself.
Sitting in the office chair, energetic as ever, was Ayanokouji Atsuomi.
"Sensei."
Though his feelings were complicated, Narimori still addressed him respectfully.
"Sakayanagi, what a nostalgic face. It must be five or six years since your last visit."
With a warm smile, Atsuomi stood and invited him to sit.
"I only realized today that it's already been that long since you took over this project. Time really flies."
Accepting the cup of tea handed over by the assistant, Narimori sat with restrained formality across from him. He quickly noticed a faded inscription carved into the desk:
[Give me a dozen healthy infants, and I will guarantee to train them into any type of person—doctor, lawyer, artist, merchant, even beggar or thief—regardless of their background, abilities, or ancestry.]
But Narimori was no longer the reckless youth who would voice dissatisfaction directly. He simply glanced at the quote, then quietly brushed the surface of his tea with the lid before taking a sip.
"I'm glad you came back after all this time. Our first meeting was because of this project, wasn't it?"
He once genuinely believed this was a facility to nurture talent.
Swallowing both his tea and his thoughts, Narimori chuckled lightly:
"Arisu had just been born then, and I was adapting to my duties at the Tokyo Advanced Nurturing School. It was a hectic time."
"Understandable."
Atsuomi smiled kindly.
"Aside from fulfilling a promise, I came today with another purpose."
"If there's anything I can help with, just say the word."
"I'm looking for a child."
"A child?"
Atsuomi furrowed his brow, a hint of confusion on his face. Had it been anyone else, he might have suspected a secret love child.
"Not mine. A child from the Kitagawa family."
Seeing Atsuomi's puzzlement, Narimori clarified:
"I heard the Kitagawa family once sent an illegitimate child here. Based on the timeline, they'd be part of the fourth or fifth generation."
"...This is news to me."
Atsuomi genuinely seemed surprised. Though he oversaw the White Room, the Naoe faction had placed other insiders in the program as well, including people like Tsukishiro and Narimori himself.
"It was a private matter. The Kitagawa family head passed away soon after."
Given that he was asking a favor, Narimori took the initiative to excuse Atsuomi.
"That's possible."
Atsuomi nodded thoughtfully.
"So the Kitagawa family wants this child now because he's their only heir?"
"Yes."
Narimori nodded.
"I brought DNA data from his biological father. Every child in the White Room underwent medical screening and registration upon entry, right? With so few students in the fourth and fifth generations, it should be easy to identify him."
"Assuming he's still alive."
Atsuomi didn't see a problem. Doing this favor might earn him goodwill from the Kitagawa family. He nodded and instructed the assistant to retrieve the records for verification.
As the two men chatted idly, the assistant returned in haste and whispered something into Atsuomi's ear.
Atsuomi's expression stiffened in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a regretful smile.
"I'm sorry. The child matching that DNA was eliminated two years ago."
In the White Room, "eliminated" was a euphemism. It could mean psychological collapse or actual death.
"I see. Good thing I didn't inform the Kitagawa family yet. I was planning to wait until I had confirmation."
What surprised Atsuomi was how easily Narimori accepted the explanation. He didn't even give Atsuomi a chance to use the excuse he had prepared.
The assistant had indeed confirmed a DNA match with Ryo.
If Kiyotaka was the White Room's No.1, Ryo was No.2. As one of the central figures of the program, he was vital to both the fourth and fifth generations.
Compared to the success of the White Room, any favor owed to the Kitagawa family meant little.
"Such a shame..."
Narimori sighed, visibly conflicted.
The Kitagawa family needed a legitimate heir—even a foolish one would do.
But Narimori, especially as Arisu's father, found the idea of her being betrothed to a White Room child unbearable.
Unlike the arrangement made by their fathers, he wanted his daughter to pursue her own happiness—especially now that she was healthy.
Even before arriving, Narimori had made up his mind. As someone aware of the White Room's darker truths, he knew what kind of people its children had become.
From the fourth generation onward, Atsuomi had, following Narimori's own past suggestions, begun behaviorist psychological experiments that bordered on brainwashing.
If the child in question were still alive, Narimori would have asked to remove him from the facility—a risky but compassionate decision. He wanted to give that child a peaceful, ordinary life.
So when he heard the child had been eliminated, his first reaction was relief.
Though guilt quickly followed, deep down, he was happy for Arisu.
He just wanted her to live as she pleased.
As a father, that was all he wished for.
Now emotionally at ease, Narimori chatted briefly with Atsuomi until an update came from the assistant:
Arisu had apparently challenged the top student of the fifth generation.
Recalling her earlier words—"I'll destroy the White Room"—Narimori chuckled and shook his head.
No matter what, he was moved by her determination.
"Shall we go watch?"
Atsuomi saw it as a perfect opportunity to showcase the facility's success and stood up with a smile.
"Why not."
They made their way to the fifth-generation classroom.
"Chess?"
"It's a core subject here. Ichika's skills are second only to Kiyotaka's."
"Arisu has only studied chess for six months, but she has talent. She can win."
Narimori's confidence in his daughter was unwavering. Over the past year, as her heart healed, her curiosity had grown. Her inner world had opened up, and chess was just one manifestation.
Their eyes turned toward the board.
A white-haired girl and a red-haired girl sat opposite each other, pieces in hand, as their match began.
-------------------------------------
Contrasting with her striking red hair, Ichika's chess style was equally aggressive and bold.
In terms of sheer presence and physique, it was hard to believe she was a year younger than her opponent.
Sakayanagi Arisu carefully observed both the board and her opponent.
In stark contrast to Arisu's calm demeanor, Ichika's eyes gleamed with an almost fanatical desire to win.
[As long as I defeat every opponent, Ryo can receive the best treatment.]
What drove her to become the top student of the fifth generation could be distilled into a single word—a single person.
But just as quickly as the flame of passion had flared up, it flickered and faded. Arisu seized the initiative and began to dominate the board.
For the first time, Ichika felt such immense pressure from someone other than Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. Even Takuya, the student ranked just below her, had never made her feel this way.
Steadying herself, she cooled her emotions and adjusted her strategy.
Forgetting the sting of past losses, she focused on matching Arisu's every move.
"---!"
By now, Ayanokouji Atsuomi and Sakayanagi Narimori had entered the room to observe the match up close.
When Ichika inadvertently met Atsuomi's gaze, her mind went completely blank.
Thanks to the Little Albert experiment, the White Room children had been raised with a fundamental fear of Atsuomi and the upper echelons.
No matter what training they underwent or how many combat techniques they learned, they could never raise a fist against these figures.
Ichika knew all too well that if he wished, Ryo could vanish tomorrow—just like the others had.
She had to win.
[Only by completing both of our objectives can Ryo stay by my side... always, always.]
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then reopened them, pressing her left hand to her chest.
Ryo's illness had grown severe lately. The doctors said it was his heart.
Ichika had once begged to listen to his heartbeat through a stethoscope. What she heard was rough and unsteady, layered with harsh noises—a sickly rhythm full of fatigue.
The heartbeat is the sound of life.
That was what their instructors had told them.
Not as a metaphor, but as a simple truth: when the heart stops, life ends.
Ryo's heart—bloated, exhausted, and on the verge of collapse.
The only way to restore it was to win. To beat every opponent in her path.
She picked up a chess piece and resumed the game with renewed focus.
-------------------------------------
In moments of intense concentration, the world seemed to fall silent.
Arisu felt as though she could hear her own heartbeat, even though she had listened to it countless times before through a stethoscope.
She enjoyed the feeling of competition, especially now that she was healthy.
She loved this kind of equal battle—one where her body was no longer a factor, where both sides simply gave it their all.
[I'll destroy this project for my father.]
[I won't lose to any child raised in this facility.]
Her heart beat steadily and powerfully in her chest, strong enough to support such a vow.
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