With the midterm exams rapidly approaching, Class B had fully entered serious study mode.
That day after school, the study session in the library—centered around , Hiyori, and Ichinose's group—proceeded smoothly as usual before finally wrapping up.
"See you later, Aizen-kun, Shiina-san! See you tomorrow!"
"Yes, good work today. Please be careful on your way ho, Ichinose-san and everyone else."
"...Indeed. Be sure not to let the malice lurking in the darkness of night sweep your feet from beneath you."
"He ans, 'Please get ho safely,'" Hiyori translated calmly.
As always, after parting ways with my classmates through Hiyori's flawless interpretation, I headed toward the student dormitory where my room was located.
Bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, my steps felt lighter than usual.
(Alright, the study session's over and I've got plenty of ti now... Maybe I should contact Kiyotaka already!)
Yesterday, during the incident between Classes C and D, I had unexpectedly reunited with my old White Room acquaintance—Ayanokōji Kiyotaka.
There had been too many people around then, so we barely got to talk about the past. He too had sohow escaped that insane facility and made it out into the real world. Surely, just like , he was still awkwardly adjusting to ordinary life while enjoying the peace of freedom.
(Perfect. I'll invite him over to my room, we'll eat dinner, and catch up! ssages shouldn't trigger my cursed auto-poem transformation, so I can finally write normally!)
The mont I returned to my dorm room, I grabbed my terminal and opened the ssaging app.
Just as I was about to type:
"Long ti no see! Wanna co over tonight, eat dinner, and talk about old tis?"
—I paused.
(...No, wait.)
Yesterday's image of Kiyotaka resurfaced in my mind.
He'd still been expressionless, acting carefully so as not to stand out. If I suddenly sent him an overly excited ssage, he might think:
"Did this guy lose his mind after leaving the White Room?"
And besides, my Aizen Sōsuke pride—also known as my unconscious chuunibyou—whispered seductively:
"Are such cheap words really fitting when inviting your destined rival?"
(I should match his vibe and invite him with sothing calr and more sophisticated. That's what mature adults do!)
After so thought, I typed and sent the ssage.
"—Would you care to speak with tonight in my room? About the empty paths we have walked, and the past of that white garden. ...I shall prepare the board and await you."
(Yeah. Perfect. Calm, mature, elegant. "The board" obviously ans the dining table. Surely he'll get it!)
Satisfied, I waited for his reply.
anwhile, in Ayanokōji Kiyotaka's dorm room in Class D.
A short notification sound rang from the terminal resting beside him on the bed.
Sender: Aizen Sōsuke.
Just one day after their reunion, the man had already made contact again.
("Speak with tonight... about the empty paths we've walked and the past of the white garden. ...I shall prepare the board and await you.")
The instant he finished reading the ssage, an icy vigilance flashed through Ayanokōji's hollow eyes.
(...So he's trying to directly investigate after all.)
"White garden" clearly referred to the White Room.
And "empty paths" likely ant the ti between leaving the facility and entering this school.
He was probing him.
Ayanokōji quietly analyzed the situation.
Aizen Sōsuke—the monster who had produced abnormal results in every curriculum before suddenly disappearing from the facility.
Why was he at this school?
Was he acting under the White Room's orders?
Ayanokōji didn't know.
But ignoring the invitation might provoke the worst-case scenario: Aizen exposing his past to the entire school.
("I shall prepare the board and await you." A chessboard? Or an interrogation table? Either way, refusing would be a bad move. To understand his objective, I'll have to step directly into his territory.)
He typed a short response:
"Understood. I'll co at 19:00."
Then he exhaled quietly.
What awaited him wasn't an old friend's room.
It was the castle of a terrifying demon king.
(YES! Kiyotaka said yes! Seven o'clock it is!)
The mont I got his reply, I rushed out of my room and sprinted toward the supermarket in Keyaki Mall.
(Since I finally get to eat with Kiyotaka again after all this ti, I should make him sothing special!)
During the years between being expelled from the White Room and entering this school, I had lived in an orphanage. Since I'd helped the staff constantly, my dostic skills—especially cooking—had beco remarkably advanced.
Combined with the absurd dexterity and learning ability granted by my "Aizen specs," my cooking had reached a level that could rival high-end restaurants.
(For high school boys, hamburg steak is the obvious choice! I'll also make consommé soup and potato salad.)
In a great mood, I tossed ingredients into my basket one after another: ground at, onions, eggs, fresh vegetables.
Currently, my terminal balance sat at around 100,000 points. The 20 million points I had earned for Hiyori's transfer had almost entirely been paid to the school to fulfill the contract, reducing back to ordinary freshman-level wealth.
Still, with 100,000 points, grocery costs were nothing.
The mont I returned ho, I imdiately started cooking.
The knife flashed at blinding speed as I minced onions.
My hands kneaded the at with both precision and power.
The heat was controlled perfectly down to the second.
(Alright, sear the outside over high heat to lock in the juices... then finish it slowly in the oven. And the sauce will be a homade red wine demi-glace!)
At exactly 18:55, my table was lined with steaming hamburg steaks, colorful side dishes, and crystal-clear consommé soup.
A rich, mouthwatering aroma filled the room.
Ding dong.
Right at 19:00, the intercom rang.
(Oh! He's here!)
Still wearing my apron, I hurried excitedly to the door.
Standing there was Ayanokōji Kiyotaka—still expressionless, though faint tension radiated from his body.
(Welco, Kiyotaka! Glad you ca!)
Trying to smile warmly, I spoke.
"—You've co, Kiyotaka. ...At the very least, I'll praise you for not fleeing from the terror of facing ."
(GAAAAAHHHH! WHY DOES IT ALWAYS CO OUT LIKE THIS?! That sounded exactly like a demon king welcoming a hero to his doom!)
At my utterly villainous greeting, Ayanokōji narrowed his eyes slightly.
"...I didn't co because you ordered to. I ca because you said you wanted to talk."
"...Fufu. No need to put on a brave face. Co inside. ...Let us begin our banquet."
Internally crying, I elegantly invited him in.
The mont he entered, Ayanokōji's eyes quickly scanned the room.
Any bugs?
Any hidden attackers?
Escape routes?
Then his gaze stopped on the lavish homade dishes covering the table.
(...What is this?)
Internally, he was deeply confused.
He had expected an actual "board"—perhaps a chessboard.
Instead, there was perfectly plated hamburg steak.
And the terrifying monster before him was sohow wearing a cute household apron.
(...Poison? No, he wouldn't use sothing that obvious. Then this must be psychological warfare—an attempt to lower my guard by blending into normal daily life.)
"Sit before it grows cold. ...You may rest assured there is no poison."
(AAAAH! WHY DID I BRING UP POISON MYSELF?! It's just delicious hamburg steak!!)
"...Thanks for the al."
Ayanokōji sat down and picked up his knife and fork.
He cut into the hamburg steak and took a bite.
And then—
(...!)
His movents froze completely.
Behind his emotionless mask, an overwhelming "assault of flavor" struck his brain directly.
Overflowing juices.
Perfect doneness.
A demi-glace sauce balancing acidity and richness flawlessly.
It surpassed every al he had ever tasted in his life.
(...It's incredible. To an abnormal degree. Was cooking also part of the White Room curriculum? No... I never learned this. Did he truly master this level of skill after leaving the facility? What terrifying adaptability...)
Completely unaware that he was interpreting my cooking as evidence of my monstrous nature, I internally pumped my fist in victory.
(YES! Kiyotaka's frozen from how delicious it is! All those years at the orphanage paid off!)
"—A al that rely satisfies hunger is fit only for beasts. I prepared offerings worthy of us... Tell , do they suit your palate?"
I swirled a wine glass—filled only with grape juice—and asked arrogantly.
Ayanokōji set down his utensils and looked at seriously.
"...Yeah. It's good. But if you think food will buy over, you're wasting your ti, Sōsuke. Let's get to the main subject."
(Main subject? Oh right! Talking about school life! I should ask how Class D is going and whether he made any friends!)
"—No need to rush. ...Still, tell , Kiyotaka. Have you adapted to the air of this tiny garden? A man like you wallowing among the mud of the lowest depths... I admit, I find it intriguing."
(GAAAAHHH! I JUST WANTED TO ASK IF HE MADE FRIENDS!! Why did it sound like I was interrogating him?!)
The warmth vanished completely from Ayanokōji's eyes.
So that really was his goal.
(...He's investigating my intentions. What I'm planning at this school. No—I just want a peaceful life, but to him that must appear suspicious. Whether or not he's acting for the White Room, he clearly intends to drag onto his board.)
Ayanokōji quietly drank so water.
"I'm not plotting anything. I just want to live peacefully as a normal student. Why are you here?"
(Why am I here? To read books together with Hiyori at the sa school, obviously!)
"—Why am I here? ...I'm rely laying a foundation so I may soday stand atop the heavens. Surely you too will eventually climb into the edge of my sight."
(AHHHH! I SAID "STAND ATOP THE HEAVENS" AGAIN!! I just want a peaceful school life! Now I sound like the mastermind planning to conquer the academy!)
Ayanokōji exhaled quietly.
("Stand atop the heavens"... So he intends to dominate this school. Whether for the White Room or his own ambitions, he clearly plans to involve . Giving him any more information carelessly would be dangerous.)
"...I have no intention of entering anyone's field of vision or aiming for the heavens. You can do whatever you want. Just don't interfere with ."
With that, Ayanokōji devoured the rest of the hamburg steak at terrifying speed and stood up.
"Thanks for the al. The food was excellent... but let's end the probing here."
(Eh?! He's leaving already?! It's only 7:30! I finally reunited with my childhood friend—I can't let this end here!)
"—Wait. It is too early to leave the board."
My sharp voice stopped Ayanokōji instantly as he reached for the doorknob.
Tension radiated from his back.
"...What are you planning, Sōsuke? If you intend to use force, I have my own options."
"—Do not misunderstand. I rely prepared another form of 'ga' capable of awakening one's instinct for battle."
(I JUST WANT TO PLAY VIDEO GAS TOGETHER! I bought the latest console recently with points!)
When I pulled out a brand-new gaming console and two controllers from beneath the TV stand, Ayanokōji blinked slightly.
(...A video ga? What kind of trap is this?)
Internally, his alert level skyrocketed.
(The White Room's masterpiece—that is, —is being challenged through a re ga? No. It can't simply be entertainnt. Reaction speed to random stimuli, adaptability, predictive capability... I see. Through this "ga," he intends to asure my current specs.)
"...Very well. I'll humor your ga."
He returned inside and accepted the controller.
(YESSSS! Kiyotaka agreed to play gas! Hanging out in a room gaming together like normal high school boys—this is aweso!)
Excited beyond words, I booted up a popular fighting ga.
"—Now then, let us begin. Show how far your struggles can reach my blade."
(No holding back! Let's do this!!)
FIGHT!!
The battle between the characters exploded across the screen.
The "Aizen specs" inside my brain were absurd even in gaming.
From fra-by-fra character movents, I perfectly predicted every attack and punished openings instantly with combos.
(WOOOOOO! This is so fun!! Kiyotaka's actually pretty good! As expected of soone from the White Room—his reflexes are insane!)
I played joyfully, thrilled simply to ga with a friend like a normal high school student.
But beside , Ayanokōji's internal thoughts were on an entirely different level.
(...Impossible. He reacts several fras after my inputs, yet he reads all my actions perfectly. This isn't re reflex. He's instantly analyzing my thought patterns, habits, and strategies to derive the optimal answer...)
Sweat ford on Ayanokōji's forehead.
(And he's intentionally leaving openings. He's testing whether I can notice and exploit them. ...Terrifying. From dinner to gas, everything has been a test to evaluate . I can't relax for even a second.)
The furious clacking of buttons echoed throughout the room.
(Playing gas with Kiyotaka is seriously the best!! I'm losing track of ti!)
(...The pressure this man exerts is unbelievable. Just facing him feels like my nerves are being ground away...)
Aizen innocently enjoying gas with a friend.
Ayanokōji misunderstanding everything as an extre psychological examination.
Their battle continued late into the night.
Several hours later.
(...Kiyotaka went ho already. Man, that was seriously fun! I should invite him again soti!)
Wrapped in satisfaction, I drifted off to sleep on my bed.
anwhile, back in his own room, Ayanokōji Kiyotaka collapsed onto his bed the mont he returned, consud by overwhelming exhaustion.
Not physical fatigue.
His ntal energy had been utterly drained by hours of "high-level psychological warfare"—
(which was actually just video gas.)
(...What a terrifying man. Aizen Sōsuke. He turns every aspect of daily life into a ga board designed to dominate others...)
After being completely destroyed in the fighting ga, Ayanokōji subconsciously reinterpreted his exhaustion as "damage from psychological warfare."
Thus, the two strongest products of the White Room continued accelerating their catastrophic and ridiculous misunderstanding of one another across the vast ga board known as the Advanced Nurturing High School.
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