“Incredible,” muttered Head Instructor Suzukake, his eyes glued to the monitors on the floor.
“These children are monsters.
Absolutely incredible.” “I would have been ecstatic if just one turned out like this,” the other instructor replied, rustling through the files.
“But four of them?
At the same time?” The third instructor looked around, his voice trembling.
“This is the highest success rate in the entire history of the White Room.” Down below, the massive ring was the scene of an absolute massacre.
Four nine-year-old children stood tall.
In front of them lay a group of thirty adults—all professional fighters—and every single one of them was on the ground.
The faces of the thirty men were covered in blood.
Their bodies were bruised all over, and they groaned in agony, struggling to even breathe.
Yet, not a single child had taken a serious hit.
Shiro ran a hand through her long white hair, brushing it back.
She turned and stepped toward Yuki, a smug look plastered across her face.
“I took down seven,” Shiro said, her voice dropping to a freezing cold register.
“You only managed six.” Yuki furrowed her brows, her fists clenching tightly.
“What did you just say?” “You need to work harder, Yuki,” Shiro taunted, her lips curling into a smirk.
“At this rate, you’re going to fall way behind Kamiki-kun.” “You only beat one more person than I did!” Yuki yelled, fires of rage flashing in her purple eyes.
“Besides, the ones I fought were much bigger!
You just picked the weak ones!” Yuki quickly spun around.
“Kiyone!
How many did you take down?” she demanded, her voice thick with impatience.
Kiyone fixed her golden eyes on Yuki.
“I neutralized seven as well,” she stated in a flat, monotone voice.
Yuki froze.
Her purple eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
“Looks like you came in last, Yuki,” Kiyone added, a faint hint of mockery bleeding into her tone.
This only infuriated Yuki further.
Shiro let out a soft giggle, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“Well, you’ve always been at the back of the pack when it comes to fighting anyway,” Shiro teased.
The flush of anger on Yuki’s face suddenly vanished.
Her mind raced, shifting gears instantly.
She needed to turn this loss into a win.
In a split second, her eyes welled up with tears.
Her lips began to tremble, putting on a perfect display of a victimized child.
She lunged forward, stopping right in front of Kamiki.
She threw herself into Kamiki’s arms, burying her face into his chest.
Her small hands tightly gripped his white uniform.
“Kamiki-kun…” Yuki whined, her voice trembling like a sorrowful melody.
“They’re making fun of me.
Shiro and Kiyone are teaming up against me.” Kamiki felt the sudden warmth against his chest, but his face didn’t register even a flicker of surprise.
He knew this tactic of Yuki’s all too well.
Yet, he chose not to break her illusion.
Kamiki raised his hand, placing it gently on Yuki’s soft hair.
He began to stroke her head, slowly and affectionately.
“It’s okay, Yuki,” Kamiki said, his voice as smooth and soothing as ever.
“You’re already doing great.” Yuki shifted slightly against his chest, inhaling his scent.
“Really?” she murmured, without lifting her head.
“Yes,” Kamiki replied, shifting his gaze to Shiro and Kiyone.
“In fact, there are areas where you outshine them completely.
Your flexibility and split-second reflexes are unlike anyone else’s in this room.” Hearing those words, Yuki cheered triumphantly in her mind.
Kamiki had praised her.
And he had done it right in front of the other two girls.
Yuki pulled her face slightly away from Kamiki’s chest, though she kept her arms wrapped tightly around him.
She slowly turned her head backward.
Looking straight into Shiro’s eyes, the victimized expression on her face instantly vanished.
She stuck her tongue out at Shiro in a massive, provocative taunt, narrowing her eyes.
Seeing this, Shiro nearly lost her mind.
Sparks flew from her blue eyes.
She clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails bit into her palms.
“You…” Shiro hissed.
“You’re literally using Kamiki-kun!
That’s cheating!” “It’s not cheating,” Yuki retorted, hugging him even tighter.
“Kamiki-kun is protecting me.
Don’t be jealous, Shiro!” Kiyone watched the scene unfold in silence.
But deep down, as she watched Kamiki stroke Yuki’s hair, she felt a strange, suffocating pressure chest.
Before the heavy weight in Kiyone’s chest could dissipate, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the edge of the ring.
The rhythmic click of high heels against the gray floor instantly shifted the atmosphere in the room.
A woman dressed in a flawlessly tailored black suit walked toward the children.
She exuded a cold, sharp, and uncompromising aura.
Her gaze locked directly onto Kamiki and the girls clinging to him.
“Quite a touching picture,” the woman said, her voice ice-cold.
“But this is not a daycare.
You seem to be forgetting that.” Yuki quickly broke away from Kamiki.
Shiro and Kiyone immediately snapped into a rigid, upright posture.
The woman stopped right in front of them.
She glanced first at Kiyone, then at the others.
There wasn’t a single shred of warmth on her face.
“As you are well aware,” the woman said, crossing her arms over her chest, “I run the White Room.
I am also Kiyone’s mother.” Kiyone didn’t even blink at those words.
The bond between her and her mother was entirely mechanical, just like everything else in this facility.
Meanwhile, looking at the woman, a completely different storm was brewing deep within Kamiki’s mind.
He knew exactly who she was.
*When God told him that the original world’s Atsuomi Ayanokoji would be a woman in this universe, he thought it was a joke.* But it was absolute reality.
He had been genuinely shocked when he first saw her.
The founder and absolute leader of the White Room was no longer a man, but this woman.
And her name was Miyuki.
“We all know that,” Kamiki said, without a single tremor in his voice.
The other girls weren’t surprised by his statement either.
They continued to stand perfectly still, like statues carved from marble.
“How long have you known?” Miyuki asked, narrowing her eyes as she focused her gaze entirely on Kamiki.
“Since we were four,” Kamiki replied bluntly.
“We overheard your conversations with the instructors back then.” “I see,” Miyuki said.
“Even though the four of you belong to the fourth generation, you have maintained flawless success.
We have sacrificed a great deal for you in this room, but you are proving to be worth the investment.” “In fact,” Miyuki continued, her eyes narrowing further, “you have even developed social skills among yourselves that were never part of our curriculum.
You envy each other.
You manipulate each other.
You form attachments.” “Social interaction is a survival mechanism,” Kiyone interjected, her voice smooth and unbothered.
She seemed completely unaffected by standing before her own mother.
“Accepting Kamiki’s leadership and shaping ourselves around him maximizes our efficiency.” Yuki, still hovering close to Kamiki’s arm, looked at Miyuki with a hidden streak of stubbornness in her purple eyes.
“We just love Kamiki-kun,” Yuki said directly.
“This is the strongest bond we’ve built among ourselves.” Miyuki let out a soft laugh that echoed coldly against the facility’s walls.
“Love.
Jealousy.
Rivalry.
Under normal circumstances, the awakening of such emotions in the White Room would be considered a failure.
Yet, you have turned these flaws into weapons.” Miyuki turned her attention back to Kamiki.
“Did you organize this, Kamiki?” “I didn’t do anything,” Kamiki replied in a flat tone.
“We simply adapted to the challenges of the system.
If these emotions make us stronger, suppressing them would be illogical.” Miyuki’s eyes locked onto Kamiki, her deep, dark intellect weighing every variable.
She took another step forward, closing the distance between them.
“You are the most exceptional individual in this room,” Miyuki declared, her voice echoing throughout the hall.
“You know that, don’t you, Kamiki?” Kamiki offered no reaction.
He held her gaze, his face remaining as unreadable as a marble wall.
Miyuki slowly raised her hand, gesturing toward the three girls standing just behind Kamiki.
“If it weren’t for you,” Miyuki said, her tone dropping to a chilling whisper, “these three would still be strong.
There’s no denying that.
They are geniuses in their own right.” Miyuki paused, her eyes scanning the girls.
“But only to a point.
They would never have reached this level.” Yuki and Shiro held their breath.
Kiyone kept her eyes locked onto her mother.
With every sentence Miyuki spoke, the girls’ hearts beat faster.
“Furthermore,” Miyuki added, shifting her gaze back to Kamiki, “they would never have formed a bond like this on their own.
They would have tried to destroy one another, and eventually, they would have broken under the system.” A proud, yet terrifying smile crept onto Miyuki’s lips.
“I have been watching you since you were an infant.
You’ve been here since your very first lab data.
You are truly extraordinary.” “I am simply receiving the education provided,” Kamiki stated evenly.
“I haven’t done anything extra.” “Everyone receives the education,” Miyuki snapped back.
“But no one bends it the way you do.
You created these three little monsters.
You are turning their attachment to this room—and to you—into fuel.” Miyuki suddenly spun around, her black suit fluttering slightly in the air.
The sharp click of her heels headed toward the exit corridor.
“Continue down this path,” Miyuki’s voice echoed from the depths of the hallway.
“Do not disappoint me.” The heavy iron door slammed shut behind Miyuki with a deafening thud.
The mechanical sound of the locks engaging plunged the room back into its usual silence.
The moment Miyuki left, Yuki let out a deep breath.
“I thought I forgot how to breathe,” she said, quickly moving to stand in front of Kamiki.
Her purple eyes were sparkling.
“Kamiki-kun!
Did you hear that?
Even that woman admits you are the most special!” Shiro stepped forward, tossing her long white hair back.
Her blue eyes flickered with a mix of panic and ambition.
“I…
I won’t stay in your shadow, Kamiki-kun,” Shiro said, her voice dropping slightly out of sheer intensity.
“No matter what Professor Miyuki says.
I will do whatever it takes to surpass you.” Kamiki looked into Shiro’s panicked, ambitious blue eyes.
His unshakeable mask remained firmly in place.
But the fire burning inside these girls was exactly what he wanted.
“Good,” Kamiki said calmly.
“Do exactly that.
Give it everything you’ve got.” At that exact moment, in a dimly lit, high-tech room on the upper floor of the corridor, three people were seated.
Professor Miyuki sat at the head of the table.
To her right stood Head Instructor Suzukake, and to her left was Assistant Head Instructor Kintaro.
Kintaro placed his tablet down on the table, turning to Miyuki with a deep frown.
“Is it really wise to leave them like this?” Kintaro asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
Miyuki took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving the monitor.
“What do you mean, Kintaro?” “We should be forcing them into pure competition,” Kintaro argued, his tone hardening.
“These monsters need to try and destroy each other.
If they do, they will grow even stronger under the pressure.” Kintaro stood up, pointing at the girls standing next to Kamiki on the screen.
“This…
this absurdity of love and attachment goes completely against the nature of the White Room.
If they start protecting each other, their growth will stagnate.
They need to eliminate one another.” Head Instructor Suzukake let out a soft chuckle from his seat, shaking his head.
“That’s impossible,” Suzukake stated firmly.
Kintaro turned to Suzukake in a flash of anger.
“Why would it be impossible?
We simply harden the curriculum.
We force them to eliminate each other.” “First of all,” Suzukake said, raising his voice slightly, “shattering the bond between them is entirely out of the question now.
That bond has been forged like steel in their minds for years.” Suzukake stood up, facing Miyuki.
“This bond provides them with a much more potent fuel than pure rivalry ever could, Kintaro.
Those girls are pushing past their absolute limits for Kamiki’s sake.
It breeds a power far more destructive than mere hatred.” Miyuki listened to the debate in silence, her expression completely unreadable.
“Furthermore,” Suzukake continued, gesturing toward Kamiki’s data graphs on the screen, “the other three girls can never surpass Kamiki.
It is physically and mentally impossible.” Miyuki tilted her head slightly.
“What makes you say that?” “Because Kamiki isn’t normal,” Suzukake said, a genuine shiver running through his voice this time.
“He learns at a rate nearly two to three times faster than those monsters.
The girls may be geniuses, but Kamiki…
Kamiki is an existence that completely transcends this system.” Suzukake took a deep breath.
“The girls are becoming flawless simply by trying to catch up to him.
If you separate Kamiki from them, the girls will lose their target.
And the moment that happens, they will all collapse.” The room fell into a sudden, heavy silence.
Kintaro found himself at a loss for words.
He turned his gaze back to the monitor.
On screen, the nine-year-old Kamiki seemed to be staring directly back at them.
Miyuki set her coffee cup down, the sharp clink cutting through the quiet room.
“Suzukake is right,” Miyuki stated calmly.
“Kamiki is the planet.
The girls are merely the satellites orbiting him.
Let them spin.
I want to see just how massive they will grow in the end.” Suzukake slowly bowed his head, pointing toward the complex charts on the control panel before him.
The glow of the lights reflected across his face.
“On that note, Miyuki-sensei,” Suzukake said, his voice tinged with anxiety.
“The Beta curriculum is no longer sufficient for them.” Miyuki looked up.
“No longer sufficient?” “Yes,” Suzukake replied, taking a heavy breath.
“They passed Level 10 a long time ago.
The children’s learning speed has completely shattered all predicted thresholds.
What are our orders?” Miyuki frowned, looking as if she had just been asked a ridiculous question.
Her gaze turned ice-cold, and the air in the room instantly grew heavy.
“If 10 isn’t enough, make it 20,” Miyuki said, her voice dropping to a freezing register.
Suzukake froze.
“Level 20?” “If 20 isn’t enough, make it 30,” Miyuki continued without a single hint of hesitation.
“Develop the most brutal, unforgiving training regimen you can conceive.” Kintaro cut in.
“But Professor, the human body and mind might not be able to withstand that kind of load.” “This is not a sanctuary for preserving human limits,” Miyuki commanded, her voice ringing absolute.
“We must push them until they break.
If they are going to break, let it happen now.” “Suzukake,” Miyuki added, her words sharp enough to drop the temperature in the room.
“Can you construct an education system beyond Level 10?” Suzukake wiped the sweat from his temple, staring at the massive influx of data before him.
His mind rapidly calculated the variables.
“It will be incredibly difficult,” Suzukake admitted, his voice trembling slightly.
“But I can do it.” Miyuki leaned back in her chair.
“Then what is stopping you?” “I need better instructors for this,” Suzukake said, finally tearing his eyes away from the panels.
“The current staff can’t keep up with the pace of these children.
We need to find actual geniuses capable of teaching them new concepts.” Without a second thought, Miyuki nodded.
“I will get you whatever you need,” she promised, her tone radiating absolute authority.
“I will bring the best the world has to offer straight to this facility.” Suzukake exhaled deeply, visibly relieved.
“Your only job is to keep pushing them to their absolute limits,” Miyuki concluded, turning her gaze back down to the ring on the monitor.
“Give them no reason to stop.” “Understood,” Suzukake said, his eyes narrowing with newfound determination.
“I will begin drafting the new curriculum immediately.” The four children downstairs had no idea, but life in the White Room was about to become infinitely more hellish.