"White Room? Fourth-generation student?"
The unfamiliar terms left not just Izumitani but also the interviewer momentarily speechless. Neither knew how to respond.
Just like the Class 3-A students, most guests showed puzzled expressions and whispered among themselves. The phrase "White Room" sounded obscure, but with the "fourth-generation student" suffix, it seemed to hint at some kind of training institution.
Sakayanagi Narimori's expression hardened. Although he hadn't interacted much with Kitagawa Ryo, he knew the boy wasn't impulsive. What struck him as odd was how calmly and confidently Ryo made his statement. If Ryo were trying to expose his past, his tone didn't fit.
Narimori initially suspected Arisu might've said something to Ryo, but a glance at his daughter—frowning in confusion—ruled that out.
Truthfully, despite being the one who brought Ryo out, neither Narimori nor Arisu had asked about Ryo's experiences in the White Room. They avoided triggering him, steering clear of any mention of his confinement in that sterile ward or the addictive injections he'd endured.
As Narimori observed Ryo's composure, a bizarre thought crossed his mind: had Ryo already been brainwashed by the White Room and accepted its ideology?
Unlike her ruminating father, Arisu quickly composed herself. Staring at the board, where the name [Ryo] now sat three ranks above her own, she felt like she finally glimpsed a portion of who he was.
She had never met Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, the White Room's most successful fourth-gen student. But now, standing in front of her was someone who had clearly surpassed her—another child molded by that same institution.
Ryo had just torn off the "vulnerable" label Arisu had attached to him. Yet rather than feel upset, she found her heart racing with excitement. It was as though two of her dreams had just been fulfilled.
The interviewer finally recovered with help from Izumitani's cues and followed up on Ryo's claim:
"White Room? Is that an after-school prep class you usually attend, Ryo-kun?"
Prep schools were familiar to everyone in Class 3-A and beyond. Despite early dismissal times in middle school, students still enrolled in cram schools to get ahead.
"The White Room is indeed an educational training institute."
Ryo nodded sincerely.
The interviewer nearly gasped. She'd just heard in her earpiece that Ryo had achieved a perfect score—outscoring second place by a stunning 20% margin.
Even the best students in Class 3-A rarely saw perfect scores on these questions, let alone someone ten years their junior.
Unlike Arisu, who carried the prestigious Sakayanagi name, Ryo had no such label. No one had even heard of the White Room.
"To produce a prodigy like Ryo-kun, the White Room must be a top-tier program."
Feigning curiosity, the interviewer continued:
"Can you tell us more about it? My little sister is around your age, and our parents are searching for a good prep school. We don't expect her to be like you, but we'd love for her to learn something."
The surrounding guests leaned in.
Anyone interested enough to visit this Class 3-A attraction was surely invested in their child's education. Many had children close to Ryo's age. They might not have heard of the White Room before, but any program capable of producing someone even better than Arisu warranted attention.
"It's normal that you haven't heard of the White Room. It doesn't advertise or recruit publicly. It's an elite education system—kind of like this school, Advanced Nurturing High."
Ryo beamed, proud.
"And I'm not even the best! There are other students in my generation and the next with similar scores. For example, Yuki—she has honey-blonde hair and purple eyes. Super cute and smart."
"Then there's Ichika from the fifth generation. She's the top of her class—red hair and twin-tails. You can always spot her from a distance."
The interviewer chuckled. The boy's playful tone when discussing friends contrasted amusingly with his genius status.
"Your White Room really is something—full of geniuses. I've never heard of it until today."
Meanwhile, a realization dawned on Kanzaki. He leaned toward Narimori and whispered:
"Isn't this what Naoe was behind?"
Narimori looked confused. Kanzaki shrugged.
"I only heard the name once. But you're the one who brought the kid here, right?"
As a major conglomerate member, Kanzaki understood the current political climate. With the battle over the next Prime Minister intensifying between the Naoe and Kijima factions, the Sakayanagi family was a valuable piece both sides wanted.
Narimori's father had ties to Kijima. Advanced Nurturing High itself was a project supported by Kijima and had elevated his reputation significantly.
The attention around Class 3-A today was a microcosm of the national spotlight on education. Advanced Nurturing's rapid rise had been a PR victory for Kijima.
To Naoe, the White Room was a counter-project—a rival to Kijima's school, equally elite and equally framed as a talent-producing machine.
At first, Narimori didn't clearly align with either side. That's why Ayanokouji Atsuomi tried to bring him into the White Room initiative. But after growing wary, Narimori had distanced himself.
His appointment as director of Advanced Nurturing marked his unofficial break from Naoe's camp.
Which was why Kanzaki found today's events strange.
"I'm not sure what Ryo's plan is. Let's just watch for now."
Narimori hesitated. He suspected Ryo's intentions but couldn't be certain.
Unaware of the political undertones, Izumitani happily retrieved the mystery prize. As far as he was concerned, Class 3-A had just struck gold. Ryo's shocking reveal brought a huge crowd. Even without knowing the revenue totals, Izumitani was confident Class 3-A would come out on top.
And with Ryo's perfect score securing the top spot, Izumitani cheerfully handed him the prize box.
"Ta-da!"
Most guests expected an elegant exam workbook. But when the lid opened, out came a golden trophy—with "Ryo" engraved at the base.
"Congratulations on first place!"
Class 3-A erupted with cheers and launched celebratory streamers into the air.
Guests clapped politely, some mentally noting the name "White Room" to research it later.
"How was today's event? Do you think you'll attend Advanced Nurturing High in the future?"
The interviewer asked the final, scripted question.
"It was fun."
Ryo answered, gripping his metallic gold trophy.
"But I don't think I'll enroll here."
"The students here are too weak. The competition isn't good enough."
Sharper than Arisu's earlier remarks, Ryo's statement froze the interviewer's smile. Several guests frowned.
Many present were family members of school staff. To hear their institution casually dismissed by a child stung more than a little.
"Our teacher, Ayanokouji-sensei, once said that the White Room was designed to turn even ordinary people into top-tier geniuses. Advanced Nurturing selects its students through tough exams, but even if they succeed later, is it really because of the school?"
Ryo crossed his arms proudly and turned to Izumitani.
"Hey, Onii-san, how were your grades in middle school?"
"Uh... first in my year."
Izumitani scratched his head. Of course he was. He was Class 3-A's leader.
"See? That's my point."
Ryo shook his head with confidence.
"You're pulling in top students, investing massive amounts of money, and still only producing a few dozen talents a year. Tsk, tsk."
If not for his age, someone might've tried to shut him up right there. But bullying a child wasn't a good look.
As director, Narimori stepped in.
"One example doesn't prove superiority. Even if you're top today, it doesn't mean the White Room is better."
He paused, locking eyes with Ryo.
"And for all we know, you're just making this up. When I was your age, I made up plenty of wild stories."
Smiling gently, Narimori clenched his fists discreetly.
He was waiting—watching closely.
Something felt off. Ryo didn't seem brainwashed. There was something else.
"Of course the White Room exists. Ayanokouji-sensei said that if we had the same budget and exposure as this school, we'd be even more successful."
"He also said that the White Room is the only program that can truly elevate national education. Advanced Nurturing is just for show."
"I came here on his orders—to prove the White Room is better than this school!"
Ryo lifted his chin high and declared it with unwavering pride.
-------------------------------------
Ayanokouji Atsuomi was jolted awake by the shrill ring of his phone.
On the other end, Naoe Jinnosuke's chief secretary immediately launched into a tirade, lambasting him with such fury it sounded like he was telling Atsuomi to get his affairs in order—lest he drag his family down with him.
Still half-asleep and completely baffled, Atsuomi barely processed the final angry shout of "Handle it yourself!" before the call disconnected.
Blinking, he finally turned to his email inbox—now overflowing with unread messages.
He tapped open his social media apps and was instantly greeted by the blaring headlines and trending tags:
[Genius Prodigy Emerges at Advanced Nurturing High School! Scores a Perfect 100 on Official Entrance Exam at Just Age Seven!]
[Young Genius Stuns Culture Festival—Claims Advanced Nurturing Wastes Social Resources, Calls for Shutdown!]
[White Room vs. Advanced Nurturing High—Which Institution Truly Breeds the Best Geniuses?]
[What is the White Room? Who is This Mysterious Ayanokouji-sensei the Child Keeps Referencing? Experts Weigh In!]
[Advanced Nurturing Director Sakayanagi Responds! Says He's Open to Dialogue with the White Room]
[Insider Leaks Explosive White Room Secrets! Claims Ryo Isn't Even the Top Student There?!]
…
Atsuomi felt his teeth ache from the sheer tension.
What the hell just happened?
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