As Yuki spoke, tears welled up in her eyes—clear, shining droplets rolling down her cheeks onto the blanket and clothes below.
Humans learn to cry before they learn to laugh, for life begins with a wail.
We smile when happy, laugh when amused, cry when we're sad or scared. While there are moments of tears born from joy, crying itself is always a deeply emotional act that impacts those around us.
Smiling is a fleeting expression: facial muscles shift, eyes narrow, brows soften—then it vanishes, leaving no trace. The corners of the mouth can rise and fall in an instant.
But crying is different. Like sorrow itself, it lingers. Each tear is proof of pain that can't simply be erased.
Yuki was a girl whose smile could warm others' hearts. So her tears, too, carried sorrow that was instantly contagious.
"Do you feel better now that you've said it out loud?"
Faced with Yuki's emotional outpouring, Sakayanagi Arisu closed her eyes for a moment, then looked directly at her and replied.
She didn't deny that her first visit to the White Room had been colored by arrogance—the pride of a so-called genius. Nor did she deny having once subscribed to a twisted belief in superiority based on bloodline and pedigree.
Her rare upbringing and congenital illness had shaped her up to age seven. But everything changed after her body recovered and she met Kitagawa Ryo.
So hearing Yuki's heartfelt words stirred something unfamiliar and intense inside her: anger.
That emotion took hold of her voice:
"You say you want to be like me?"
"There were times I wished my father had sent me to the White Room too."
"You spent your whole life there, yes. But wasn't my life also trapped in a 'White Room' of its own?"
"That's enough. Both of you, calm down."
Kitagawa Ryo raised a hand to halt the escalating emotions. He sighed, already feeling the headache coming on. The last time he'd seen two people so incompatible, it had been during the second simulation—Karuizawa Kei and Ichinose Honami—and that had ended in fireworks and metaphorical daggers.
Thankfully, both Arisu and Yuki quieted down almost immediately. His words still carried weight with them. Their eyes, however, remained locked on him.
Rubbing his brow, Kitagawa showed a trace of exhaustion:
"What I want to say is this: everything you're arguing about—it's already happened. It can't be changed."
"And the White Room incident isn't even over yet. Whether it's Arisu or Yuki, you both want to see it through to the end. That's the most important thing right now."
"As for this so-called engagement, it's nothing more than a promise made by our grandparents' generation."
"And frankly, marriage is way too early for people our age."
He gestured with his chin toward Ichika, who was still happily swinging her legs while watching her romance show:
"Now that is what a child looks like."
After giving some instructions to the bodyguards outside the room, Kitagawa returned and looked at Yuki again.
"As for the White Room... I agree with Arisu."
"Let's go together. Let's see the judgment and the end."
"The lies, the truths, the pain, the joy—let's turn that page completely."
"And then start over."
-------------------------------------
"Ayanokouji Atsuomi. Age: 44. Male. Born in Aso City, Kumamoto Prefecture. Education: High school."
"Abandoned by his biological parents at an early age. Raised by his grandparents."
"His grandfather passed away during middle school, and he lived with his grandmother afterward. After failing to get into high school, he started working."
Tsukishiro Tokinari paused, his tone subtly amused as he continued reading from the report:
"First job: host. He never returned home after entering society. Even when his grandmother died two years later, he didn't attend the funeral."
"It might be off-topic, but may I ask—why didn't you attend your grandmother's funeral, Ayanokouji-san? She was, after all, your only remaining family."
Sitting in a cramped chair, Ayanokouji Atsuomi responded indifferently:
"I guess that happened when I was around twenty? I didn't see her die, so I wasn't interested. I was too busy struggling to live for myself."
"Now that you look back objectively, any change in your thoughts?"
"Of course not. I feel the same as I did back then. She lived a failed life and died as a failure. She could've abandoned me and used the life insurance from Grandpa's death to live more comfortably."
"But I suppose she taught me how miserable a failure's life can be. I'd never want to end up like that."
His words made the three children watching from behind the one-way glass frown in unison. Kitagawa Ryo was especially focused. Though this simulation version of Atsuomi was thoroughly finished, the real one was still at large, and learning his full past was certainly beneficial.
As for why Atsuomi was cooperating so readily—it was partly because Tsukishiro's agency had already uncovered most of his background, so there was little point in hiding anything. Additionally, even now, Atsuomi still clung to the hope of exoneration.
From the moment he was detained, he had tried to curry favor with the Kijima faction, eagerly disclosing everything he knew about the Naoe faction's activities over the years.
Kitagawa already knew this, but Atsuomi had long boasted about his political career—from his crushing defeat in his first election at twenty-five, to his comeback two years later, the ups and downs that eventually earned Naoe Jinnosuke's trust and led to him heading the White Room Project.
"Next, about your child, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka."
Tsukishiro squinted with a faint smile:
"I was involved in that matter, too."
"The boy's mother, if I recall, was a hostess named Mika."
"You arranged a monetary deal with her, registered your marriage, and then had Kiyotaka."
"Oh, and the name 'Kiyotaka'—that was chosen by Mika, wasn't it?"
His tone remained neutral, but Yuki—watching outside—suddenly perked up.
She remembered what Kitagawa had once said about names. Their relationship had even begun from a conversation about names.
In fact, her fondness for her own name stemmed largely from Kitagawa's explanation. She still dreamed of the snowfall she saw the first time she was brought out of the White Room into Tokyo.
The cool touch of snow, the gentle touch of it falling on her palm, is something she still misses today.
So when she heard the origin of Kiyotaka's name, she couldn't help but be curious.
But Tsukishiro quickly shattered her imagination:
"She named him after another host she liked."
A painfully unromantic revelation.
While Yuki felt mildly disappointed, Kitagawa nearly laughed out loud. He could already imagine Kiyotaka's expression if he ever learned the truth.
Though, knowing him, he probably wouldn't care at all.
Tsukishiro and Atsuomi continued discussing political matters—filthy deeds committed under the Naoe faction's banner. But after just a few minutes, both Arisu and Yuki showed visible discomfort.
"Let's go to the other side."
Though Kitagawa wanted to hear more dirt, he decided to prioritize the girls' emotions. After asking the guards to compile the materials later, he took them elsewhere.
Atsuomi still had some value and was in the interrogation phase. But Suzukake Toya was a different story.
Even if his crimes were judged openly in court, what he had done to Kitagawa was heinous enough. According to the Kitagawa family's wishes, he was now undergoing—no, reliving—every torment he once inflicted.
There was one final stage to Harlow's rhesus monkey experiments.
Suzukake had never revealed it to Atsuomi, likely because it was less psychology and more brutal punishment.
In 1971, after Harlow's second wife died of breast cancer, his own mental state deteriorated.
He built a stainless-steel, inverted-pyramid isolation chamber—essentially a cage—and suspended a monkey inside it head-down for two years.
When the experiment ended, the monkey displayed severe, lasting, depressive psychopathology. Even after nine months of release, it sat hugging itself, unresponsive to the world.
Now, Suzukake Toya was experiencing the last phase of the experiment he loved most:
The Well of Despair.
This violent delight, as always, ends in violence.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
To Read Advanced Chapters, and support this novel, please join me on [email protected]/geats2000
(Note: Replace "@-" with "a" on your web browser.)