Standing before Sakayanagi Arisu was a fifty-story building towering over 200 meters high—a first-class hotel ranked among Tokyo's finest. Yet despite accompanying her father, she showed no sign of fear or unease. Calmly, she entered the elevator with him, pressed the designated floor number, and stood silently in thought as the elevator ascended.
The hotel banquet hall was located on the 33rd floor, spacious enough to host over two hundred guests. Renting it for just three hours would cost around ten million yen.
But for today's attendees, that figure was nothing.
This venue was chosen by Ayanokouji Atsuomi, the person in charge of the White Room, to host one of his gatherings. The events weren't always so grand—only a few months ago, they were attended by a mere sixty guests. Now, the number had skyrocketed to over two hundred.
Sakayanagi Arisu caught her reflection in the glass walls of the luxurious elevator. Dressed in a pure white dress, she looked every bit the part of a princess. Her usual cane was gone, replaced by a finely crafted silver headband that shimmered with a moonlit glow.
Ordinarily, such gatherings would be attended only by adults, and children would be nowhere in sight. But Ayanokouji Atsuomi's parties were different. Nearly every guest brought their children along. Beyond Atsuomi's identity as the "founder of an elite educational institution," many parents understood that their children were bound to cross paths in the future.
For powerful dynasties operating like closed-loop family enterprises, whether through competition or cooperation, introducing the next generation early was considered prudent.
In fact, the more confident a parent was in their child's abilities, the more likely they were to showcase them in such settings.
After all, children—as symbols of the future—were more worthy of pride than assets.
With a quiet chime, the elevator doors opened. Arisu and her father, Sakayanagi Narimori, stepped out into the banquet hall, already filled with well-dressed elites. The adults and children naturally split into separate groups, which further branched into smaller circles. Yet, in every circle, the central topic was the same:
Ayanokouji Atsuomi.
This man, who had suddenly emerged into the public spotlight over the past six months alongside his "White Room," had become one of the hottest topics around.
Sakayanagi Narimori quickly mingled with acquaintances. Due to differing ideologies, he rarely attended Atsuomi's events—aside from the early days of the White Room.
While chatting with a corporate chairman, he glanced toward his daughter.
She was the one who had insisted on attending this time.
Unlike the other children, Arisu didn't automatically join the youth circles. Instead, she began methodically scanning the banquet hall for Ayanokouji Atsuomi.
Soon, her eyes locked onto him. Pretending to peruse the dessert table nearby, she inched closer and caught snippets of his conversation with another man.
The man speaking with Atsuomi looked slightly older, though his fashion was distinctly youthful—trendy brand clothes, and even sandals that clashed entirely with the formal atmosphere. He carried himself with an air of irreverent nonchalance.
Atsuomi frowned slightly. He disliked both the man's gaudy attire and carefree attitude. Still, considering how much this man had invested in the White Room in its early days, Atsuomi maintained a courteous demeanor.
"Amasawa-san, it's been a year. You're still looking youthful."
"I spent some time in Hawaii. Got a bit tanned, sure, but I rediscovered my energy there."
Amasawa gave a relaxed shrug and laughed casually.
Atsuomi smiled politely. He understood the subtext well. Though Amasawa had a family on record, his private life was infamous. The tone alone suggested he hadn't just been on vacation—he had found himself a pleasing new companion.
Atsuomi wouldn't expose him. After all, if an illegitimate child emerged from such a relationship, that could mean more business for the White Room. Amasawa was already a loyal customer.
With that in mind, Atsuomi took the initiative:
"By the way, would you be interested in meeting the child you placed in the White Room?"
"Hmm?"
Amasawa raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Wasn't the White Room policy to prohibit any direct contact with the children? At least until they're eliminated or graduate as adults?"
"Circumstances have changed. But of course, you just got back from abroad, so you wouldn't know."
Atsuomi offered a brief explanation. But Amasawa waved his hand dismissively.
"Feel free to handle it however you like, Ayanokouji-sensei. She was just a test-tube baby, after all. Biologically mine, sure, but I never felt any parental attachment. I didn't even see her when she was born."
In the White Room's early days, to secure funding, Atsuomi had accepted children of all backgrounds. Amasawa's daughter—Ichika, a fifth-generation student—was one such case.
For powerful families like the Amasawa household, test-tube children were often raised separately from their siblings—either as control groups or to evaluate the White Room's educational effectiveness.
In practice, though, Amasawa never once asked about or visited Ichika after placing her in the program.
"Honestly, whether she lives or dies, it's all up to you."
Amasawa clapped Atsuomi on the shoulder, humming cheerfully.
Stripped of his wealth and status, Amasawa was just a hedonistic egotist in Atsuomi's eyes. Ichika's well-being mattered less to him than tomorrow's breakfast.
Atsuomi lowered his gaze.
And yet it was precisely such men that he had spent half his life struggling just to reach the starting line with.
Arisu saw it all.
After Amasawa left, another man approached Atsuomi. This one looked younger, perhaps in his thirties, with a gentle demeanor.
"Ayanokouji-sensei."
The man bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for taking care of my daughter."
"It's simply part of our White Room duties. But really, isn't Yuki's continued survival proof of her own brilliance?"
Atsuomi smiled. The man before him was Yuki's biological father.
His motive for sending Yuki to the White Room had been similar to Amasawa's. With multiple children in the family, he treated the decision like an experiment, believing in Atsuomi's promotional pitch and entrusting his eldest daughter to the White Room.
"Ryo also thinks highly of her. The two of them are very close."
Arisu's hand trembled slightly as she held her tray. Her lips pressed into a faint line.
"I watch your program every week, Ayanokouji-sensei. Yuki clearly received excellent training in the White Room."
The man spoke with mild emotion. The show Battle of Geniuses had already aired more than ten episodes. Aside from Ryo, Yuki had appeared twice as his partner, demonstrating impressive intellect.
Based solely on televised reports, the White Room appeared to be a flawless institution.
Atsuomi nodded along but avoided suggesting the man visit Yuki. He had long learned to read people. He only extended those offers to parents like Amasawa, who would definitely decline.
As the head of the White Room, Atsuomi knew the truth well—including the fragile state of Yuki's mental health.
But as long as she stayed near Ryo, she seemed like a perfectly normal child.
No—a genius, even. Among the fourth-generation students, she was one of the most outstanding, second only to Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. Otherwise, she could never have survived the White Room's pressure.
In fact, in Atsuomi's eyes, she might even surpass Ichika, the second-best in the fifth generation.
"I plan to increase this year's investment. How about 100 million yen?"
The man offered the figure as a token of gratitude.
"We deeply appreciate your generous support."
Atsuomi remained composed. These days, he valued connections more than money. The growing scale of these gatherings reflected that.
After finishing the conversation, Atsuomi raised a champagne flute and scanned the hall with satisfaction. The lively atmosphere pleased him. To his eyes, everyone here was a potential future asset.
He was the most low-born person in this entire hall.
Arisu saw everything. Then she returned to her father's side.
She suddenly recalled something her father had once mentioned—how he had originally planned to send her to the White Room, only to cancel the idea due to her congenital illness.
Now, Narimori often expressed relief or even lingering dread at that decision.
But over the past few days, Arisu had found herself wondering:
If she had entered the White Room back then—
Would things have turned out differently?
But she quickly steadied herself.
Now, she had only one goal.
She once read a line in a play that had left a deep impression:
First, you see him build the tall tower. Then, you see him host the grand feast...
Then, you watch as the tower crumbles.
-------------------------------------
"Ayanokouji, I came to see you today for one reason."
The elderly man before him exuded a sense of decay; compared to years past, he seemed one step closer to death. But the pressure in his voice and bearing—shaped by decades in power—remained as sharp as ever.
"Though I regret undermining your years of effort, you need to lie low for now."
Ayanokouji Atsuomi raised his head in disbelief as he stared at Naoe Jinnosuke.
"Naoe-sensei? The Prime Minister selection is coming up. The White Room's momentum has been incredible lately—we should be able to bring in a lot of votes for the Naoe faction..."
"I know exactly what you're going to say."
Naoe waved dismissively, cutting him off with a tone full of stern authority.
"But remember this: the White Room was my idea to begin with. You got this far solely because of my support. Understand?"
Seeing how the man now completely ignored his past insistence that the White Room operate independently of the Naoe faction, Atsuomi felt his blood boil—but he forced himself to stay composed.
"As for the Prime Minister election, I've decided to step down."
"The Naoe faction's votes will go to Kijima."
With that, Naoe dealt Atsuomi a blow he couldn't fathom.
"If Naoe-sensei is backing Kijima... then of course, I'll follow your lead."
He didn't dare ask why. Couldn't. He gritted his teeth and answered obediently.
"Didn't you hear me? I told you to lie low for a while."
A creeping sense of dread flooded Atsuomi. Still, he forced the question:
"What exactly are you referring to?"
"You've been a thorn in Kijima's side these past months—rubbing elbows with all sorts of people, making headlines left and right. The Tokyo Advanced Nurturing School was his domain to begin with. Of course he'd hear everything."
"But... you were the one who tacitly approved the White Room all this time. I was always its official director—"
"Huh? Did I ever say you could go this far? And do you think I haven't been cleaning up the messes you made these past six months?"
Naoe's tone sharpened into a scolding roar.
"Then... the White Room project?"
"Do I really need to spell it out? Scrap it. Immediately."
"Send the children with parents back to their families. The rest can go to orphanages."
His hearing faded. The world blurred.
Ayanokouji Atsuomi was forty-four years old. He had spent every one of those years climbing to where he stood now.
And this man—with a single sentence—was erasing it all.
He had bet everything on this.
Logically, now was the time to surrender. Abandon the White Room, obey Naoe, and bide his time for a comeback.
Put his hope in Naoe Jinnosuke—or his son?
"I'm sorry. I can't accept this."
For the first time, Atsuomi lost his composure.
"The White Room was funded by multiple factions. Kanzaki, Amasawa... major families all participated. You can't just erase it with one command."
He tried to play his last cards.
But Naoe merely looked at him with pity, eyes dark as ink. Then, he laughed.
"Then let me be clear: canceling the White Room is part of my deal with Kijima."
"I'm old. Even if I became Prime Minister, I wouldn't serve long. But my son—he still has a future. Better to build assets for him now."
"In fact, Kijima is already planning to create an education program similar to the White Room."
"Besides, a lot of people in Kijima's faction hate your guts. They want you and the White Room gone."
Naoe tilted his head, voice laced with curiosity:
"By the way, I've always wondered—how exactly did you offend the Kitagawa family?"
Kitagawa?
Atsuomi's pupils contracted. A long-forgotten truth came rushing back.
Then he laughed.
He laughed so hard that tears welled in his eyes.
Every child in the White Room had no surname. No false ones. No placeholders.
Because Atsuomi hated surnames.
He despised the privilege that came from them—the head start they gave at birth.
Amasawa. Sakayanagi. Kanzaki...
Each name mocked the blood, sweat, and years Atsuomi had poured in.
He remembered, vaguely, that afternoon years ago when he casually signed off on administering drugs to that child.
In the White Room, he was absolute.
So much so that he had forgotten.
Among the seemingly powerless children... the hidden weight of a surname.
Now, he could no longer guess who had revealed the truth.
All he could feel was absurdity.
So absurd it made him laugh.
Ryo had always seemed like a child he could mold at will.
But Kitagawa Ryo wasn't.
And that...
That was the cruelest reality for Ayanokouji Atsuomi.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
To Read Advanced Chapters, and support this novel, please join me on [email protected]/geats2000