Original Author’s Notes:
All characters depicted in this work are adults.
The timeline may be understood as follows: Ayanokoji completed his White Room curriculum not long ago, and left the White Room for the first time at an adult age, accompanied by his father.
His physical and intellectual abilities are at their peak, coinciding with Sakiko Togawa’s lowest point in the original story.
The author is a long-time fan of the original Classroom of the Elite, having purchased the first limited editions of the new volumes.
This work’s portrayal therefore leans toward the original Ayanokoji, with psychological description that is unusually vivid in the early stages.
This is fundamentally a multi-heroine story, and there will be many delicate daily scenes during the process of developing feelings with the “tools.”
Because this is Ayanokoji at full strength, not suppressed, results will be displayed with maximum efficiency, fully demonstrating Ayanokoji’s abilities.
However, if you are looking for brain-racking and stunning intellectual battles, this work may not feature them extensively.
Please stop here and look for other books that suit your taste.
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____
Shuchiin Academy.
The evening sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the corridor, brightening the polished floor.
Not long after the dismissal bell rang, the usually quiet and orderly corridor became a little more lively.
Students moved in twos and threes toward the same direction, their steps half a beat faster than usual, yet still restrained; no one ran, no one spoke loudly.
As if even this small anticipation had to maintain its proper decorum.
Today was the day results were posted.
After all, this was Shuchiin Academy.
Famous families, nobility… the students attending this academy were either children of influential official families or heirs of major zaibatsu groups—young men and women destined to take charge in their respective fields in the future.
Here, youth could certainly be enjoyed, but only if you first fulfilled the expectations placed upon you by your family and surname.
Grades were the most direct proof.
So, of course, they cared about today’s results.
It was just that the students here understood moderation too well; even if they cared deeply, their expressions had to remain composed, never losing their etiquette.
Quite a few people had already gathered in front of the bulletin board.
Some stood on tiptoe, peering in, while others whispered and exchanged glances with friends beside them.
A certain boy had both hands in his pockets, a casual smile on his lips, but his eyes were fixed ahead, silent.
Suddenly, the voices on the outer edge of the crowd quieted for a moment.
As if an invisible wave of air had passed, the previously crowded students unconsciously stepped back to both sides, clearing a direct path to the center of the bulletin board.
The atmosphere in the air subtly shifted.
Walking down the path was a girl.
Her long, straight black hair, which reached her shoulders, showed no unnecessary disarray as she moved.
Her exquisite, flawless face showed no fluctuation that could be called emotion.
Most striking were her beautiful, blood-red eyes—cold, sharp, and devoid of any highlights.
“Shinomiya-san is here,” someone whispered in the crowd.
“Do we even need to look? This ‘Ice Princess Kaguya’ is definitely first again.”
“After all, she’s from the Shinomiya Family… a true ‘genius.'”
Shinomiya Kaguya paid no attention to the discussions around her.
She walked directly to the bulletin board, slightly raised her fair neck, and her gaze habitually fell on the very top of the results list.
[Grade Rank 1: Shinomiya Kaguya, 498.8 points.]
Looking at the numbers naturally printed there, Shinomiya Kaguya’s shoulders, which had maintained their cold curve, relaxed almost imperceptibly.
No problems.
She was still first, maintaining the Shinomiya Family’s unbeatable decorum.
However, just a second before she was about to withdraw her gaze, her highlight-less red eyes paused slightly.
Because her gaze unconsciously fell on the second spot, right next to hers.
[Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, 497.8 points]
The surrounding students also clearly noticed the anomaly; their previously hushed discussions couldn’t help but ripple.
“No way… only one point difference?”
“Ayanokoji? I haven’t seen that name in the top ranks before…”
“He seems to be a transfer student who just arrived this semester. To score so high right away—a formidable person has come…”
“Well, but to threaten Shinomiya-san’s position, it’s probably still impossible. Even if it’s only one point, the fact that he didn’t surpass her remains.”
Listening to the whispers around her, Shinomiya Kaguya narrowed her eyes slightly.
In a rigorous standardized test where even decimal points were precisely calculated, he just happened to be exactly one point below her?
A coincidence?
This thought flashed through Kaguya’s mind for only a moment before she calmly suppressed it.
Most likely, the transfer student had a good foundation before, and just got lucky this time.
Shuchiin Academy’s exams were not something one could establish oneself in with a single burst of effort.
Moreover, as the student next to her said, even if it was a difference of 0.1 points, second was still second.
As long as she consistently took first place, there would be no problem.
Shinomiya Kaguya did not look at that name again and turned to leave.
The students in the corridor once again made way for her.
However, the moment she took a step, she unconsciously memorized that name in her mind.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.
…
While everyone in front of the bulletin board was surprised by the sudden appearance of the second-place student, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, the center of the discussion, had already walked out of Shuchiin Academy’s gate.
He passed through the ticket gate and stood calmly in the train car at three in the afternoon.
The train was not crowded at this time.
The light in the car swayed slightly as the train moved.
An elderly person returning from grocery shopping sat opposite him, dozing in their seat.
Ayanokoji held his phone, its screen still locked.
The city scenery outside the window receded at a uniform speed, reflected in his calm, pale golden eyes.
Buzz.
The phone in his palm vibrated briefly.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka pressed the side button with one hand.
The screen lit up, showing a text message from his homeroom teacher.
[Congratulations, Ayanokoji-kun, you achieved an excellent score of second place in this exam. As a transfer student, I am very pleased to see you adapt so quickly — your homeroom teacher.]
His gaze lingered on the screen for less than a second before he turned off the screen and put the phone back in his pocket.
He would be second place.
This was a predetermined outcome the moment he decided to do it.
So, making a special trip to confirm it would only be a waste of time.
Enjoying the rare moment of tranquility, his thoughts relaxed slightly.
…
My name is Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.
Born and raised in a facility known as the White Room.
Memories of that place constitute the entirety of my life so far.
There was no childhood as ordinary people understood it, no classmates with whom to share snacks, and certainly no eagerly awaited summer vacation.
Only courses.
Endless courses.
Academic knowledge, combat techniques, psychological manipulation, intelligence analysis, risk assessment…
All the “skills useful to humans,” as perceived by the outside world, were broken down in the White Room into their most basic data and units, then subjected to daily, repetitive training until they were etched into my body—becoming instincts more natural than breathing.
If there were a mechanism in society to rate institutions for developing human abilities, the White Room’s score would certainly not be low.
It can indeed efficiently produce “excellent products useful to society.”
And the person who founded that facility was my father—Ayanokoji Atsuomi.
A man who had efficiency ingrained in his bones, capable of resorting to any means to achieve his goals.
Perhaps knowing that a caged white bird would one day yearn for the sky outside, that man eventually perceived my quiet plotting for “freedom.”
I initially expected forced suppression, or even stricter control.
But, surprisingly, he didn’t do that.
Instead, he proactively proposed a deal to me.
“For a certain period, you can freely explore the outside world. Leave the White Room, go to school, live your life. I will not interfere with your daily activities.”
Sitting behind that cold office desk, the man looked at me and spoke in a tone as if discussing a long-term investment.
“But in exchange, you need to connect with a group of people.”
“Politicians, zaibatsu, prestigious families, media dynasties… go and connect with their children.”
“Use what you’ve learned to build relationships. Become their ‘necessity.'”
“Make them owe you favors. Make them unable to do without you. Make their families behind them have to allocate resources to you in the future.”
“This is the only return on investment I demand for the cultivation costs I’ve expended on you over the years.”
I knew very well what he was planning.
That man had immense political ambition.
Having me interact with those people was essentially building political connections and leverage for him.
I was merely a chess piece he had placed into the new generation of Japan’s upper society.
He also said that as long as I didn’t cause too much trouble, he would help me with minor issues, allowing me to act freely.
Frankly, for someone who had never given me any choices, this deal was generous enough.
Leaving the White Room and breathing the outside air was what I had hoped for.
However, Ayanokoji Atsuomi is someone who might go back on his word.
It is absolutely possible for him to unilaterally break the agreement and drag me back to the White Room at any time, if he deems that I have no further utility or believes this chess piece is about to escape his control.
This must be factored into long-term risk assessment.
Therefore, in addition to fulfilling his demands, I probably have to secretly do some “extra” things during this limited free time, to accumulate leverage that truly belongs to me.
Only the trump cards held in my own hands will not betray me.
So, to achieve my goal, I now need to first handle the task at hand.
…
The train slowly decelerated, and the station announcement sounded.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka stood up and walked toward the train door.
Stepping out of the station, the sunlight was a bit dazzling.
Ayanokoji stopped, took his phone from his pocket, and the screen lit up.
With one hand, he swiped the screen, skillfully entered a complex password, and opened an encrypted electronic document.
A photo immediately popped up on the screen.
The photo showed a girl with blue twin-tails.
She was wearing a well-tailored Tsukinomori Girls Academy uniform, her long hair glowing softly in the sunlight.
Her features were delicate, but what was most striking was her gaze looking into the camera.
It was a pure and gentle gaze, as if it had never been touched by the malice of the world—like a crystal carefully protected in a greenhouse.
Below the photo, there was a fairly detailed personal profile.
Name: Togawa Sakiko
Age:
Identity: Granddaughter of Togawa Sadaharu, the current head of the Togawa Group (Note: currently Tokyo’s largest real estate developer), and the sole actual heir of the Togawa Group.
Currently attending the third year of the junior high division at Tsukinomori Girls Academy.
Mother: Mizuho Togawa (passed away half a month ago)
Father: Togawa Kiyotsugu (adopted son, holds no actual power within the group; currently depressed due to his wife’s death)