Nearly a week had passed since the previous simulation ended.
Kitagawa Ryo lay on his bed with his eyes closed. The peaceful campus life over the past few days had allowed him to recover from the negative effects of the last simulation. The time to initiate the second simulation had come.
"Meow."
Hotaru padded her way from Ryo's stomach to his chest, as if sensing something unusual.
"Wish me luck, Hotaru."
Ryo reached out and hugged her close. Curling slightly, he shifted into a side-lying position.
In the next moment, his consciousness plunged into the simulator within his mind.
[Life Restart Simulator]
[Each time a simulation begins, five talents will be randomly drawn. Talent levels are divided into White, Green, Blue, Purple, and Gold. After each simulation ends, the player may choose one talent to be solidified and carried over to the next simulation.]
[Chapter: Sakayanagi Arisu's Spring Wish]
[The second simulation of this chapter will now commence.]
[Randomly drawing talents...]
[Heaven's Envy (Gold): Your body is weak and frail, and you are highly unlikely to live past thirty. In exchange, your intelligence increases dramatically.]
To think he drew that talent again.
But this time, Ryo felt no worry. In his inventory were two items that could negate the hidden drawbacks of this talent. One was a one-time-use Special Talent Refresh Card (Illness), and the other was a permanent item: "Sakayanagi Arisu's Wish." Both could eliminate the negative effects of this talent.
In other words, this time, he could gain the massive intelligence boost for free.
However, Ryo's good mood didn't last long. As the second talent slowly appeared, his brows furrowed involuntarily.
If it was that one, then the entire strategy for this simulation would need to change drastically.
Unfortunately, none of the achievement rewards from the previous run included a standard Talent Refresh Card.
Still, setting aside the goal of clearing the simulation, Ryo was genuinely intrigued by this talent he had never seen before.
[White Room: You will become a member of the White Room. The system will adopt White Room's education model. (Story-relevant. No level assigned.)]
He had encountered the White Room in previous simulations too, but only through brief descriptions in text. This elusive yet vital institution had only been hinted at before.
[Special talent "White Room" detected. Some talents will be disabled.]
Ryo browsed the list. As expected, talents like [Unforgettable], [Family Ties], [Legacy Heir], and [Kindred Spirits] were disabled—all related to foundational identity and interpersonal connections.
Just like the name implied, children who entered the White Room had to be a blank slate.
Even Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, according to Sakayanagi Arisu's descriptions, had been thrown into the White Room from birth.
"Interesting..."
Glancing through the remaining talents, Ryo chuckled softly.
He had spotted an especially intriguing one. Curious to test it, he used an item:
[Horikita Suzune's Self: Before each simulation begins, you may choose one talent and upgrade it to Gold level.]
Talent [Child King (Green)] has been upgraded to [Leader (Gold)].
[Child King (Green): You are quite popular among children and easily earn their trust. (You're always the dad in make-believe games!)]
[Leader (Gold): You are a natural-born leader. Your charisma increases dramatically. (Among kids, you're their king. Once school starts, you're always on the front lines.)]
The upgraded talent turned out just as he expected. Ryo nodded with satisfaction, finalized all the talents he thought might be useful, and used his item to remove the negative effect of [Heaven's Envy]. Without hesitation, he confirmed his selection.
[Talent selection complete.]
[Simulation begins.]
-------------------------------------
"Give me a dozen healthy infants, and I can guarantee to train any one of them into any type of specialist I might select—doctor, lawyer, artist, merchant-chief, and yes, even beggar-man and thief, regardless of his talents, penchants, tendencies, abilities, vocations, and race of his ancestors." —John Broadus Watson, American psychologist and founder of behaviorism.
As long as the man seated in the office chair lowered his head, he could clearly see this quote etched into the surface of his desk. He had carved it himself years ago when he first arrived here, hoping to inspire himself. But now, it only stirred irritation.
"Ayanokouji-sensei, here is the latest list of test subjects. Please review it."
The subordinate who entered knocked politely and handed over the document with great deference. Ayanokouji Atsuomi nodded and waved him off, signaling permission to leave. The subordinate bowed and exited humbly.
In the first twenty years of his life, Ayanokouji Atsuomi had envisioned such a scene countless times—one where he held sway over others. Born a nobody with no influential background, he hadn't graduated from an elite university or possessed exceptional athleticism. Yet through sheer effort, he became a member of parliament by the age of thirty-one, joining the prestigious Naoe faction and even earning the favor of its head, Naoe Jinnosuke.
As a trusted aide, Ayanokouji was soon given a confidential assignment:
The establishment of a government-run talent development program and its overseeing institution.
He became the program's direct head. After much deliberation, he named it [White Room].
But that had been years ago.
Rubbing his temples wearily, Ayanokouji now realized just how much he had underestimated the difficulty of this supposedly promising initiative.
He glanced again at the quote engraved on his desk. Truth be told, he wasn't particularly versed in psychology. The quote came from a book he'd read, and part of the inspiration for White Room originated from the theories of the very same psychologist.
To date, White Room had admitted five generations of test subjects. Incorporating various expert recommendations, the first three generations were composed of children aged ten, seven, and five, respectively. But the results were underwhelming.
As a result, the focus shifted. Some project members advocated starting with true blank slates—newborns.
Thus, beginning with the fourth generation, White Room began raising infants straight from birth.
A process this prolonged was inevitably exhausting. Even Ayanokouji Atsuomi, committed as he was, felt regret creeping in.
He knew that if the program ever bore fruit, it would grant him immense political capital. But even so, the frustration was undeniable.
"Is something troubling you, Sensei?"
While taking a stroll outside to ease his mind, Ayanokouji ran into Sakayanagi Narimori, a slightly younger man who always addressed him with respectful deference.
The Sakayanagi family was well-established in education, and Ayanokouji occasionally consulted him on matters concerning White Room.
"Yes, the project's progress has been far too slow. It's causing some anxiety."
"Have you ever heard of the 'Delayed Gratification' experiment, Sensei?"
Narimori asked with a smile after hearing his troubles.
Ayanokouji shook his head.
Narimori explained patiently:
"It was a famous psychology experiment conducted at Stanford University in the 1960s. Dozens of children were selected at random from a kindergarten and placed individually in rooms with only a chair, a table, and a tray of treats like marshmallows or cookies."
"They were told they could eat the treat immediately, or wait until the researcher returned and receive a second treat as a reward."
He smiled again, as if fondly amused by the children's reactions.
"It was a grueling experience for them. Some covered their eyes, turned away, kicked the table, tugged their hair, or even slapped the marshmallow. Most couldn't last three minutes."
"Only about one-third succeeded in resisting temptation and received the reward."
"Follow-up studies showed that these children tended to perform better academically and were less likely to use drugs as adults."
After hearing this, even Ayanokouji smiled. He believed that if he had participated in that experiment, he would have easily exercised delayed gratification.
"You seem quite knowledgeable about these experiments."
"Most psychological studies can be applied to education," Narimori adjusted his glasses, smiling.
"And I'm a father myself."
Ayanokouji nodded. He knew Narimori had a daughter born last year—the same year his own son was born.
Perhaps sensing Ayanokouji's softened mood, Narimori hesitated before speaking again:
"Actually, there are more experiments I could share, if you're interested."
"Go ahead. I'll treat them like bedtime stories."
"Very well."
As if he'd been waiting for this moment, Narimori quickly continued:
"In the 1920s, a professor from Johns Hopkins University conducted a famous experiment. He and his assistant brought in a nine-month-old infant named Albert. Before the experiment began, they exposed him briefly to various items: white rats, rabbits, dogs, monkeys, masks, cotton, and burning newspapers. Albert showed no fear or unusual reactions."
"Two months later, they began the real test. A white rat was placed near Albert, who showed no fear and even reached out to touch it. At that moment, the professor and assistant struck a steel bar behind him with a hammer, creating a loud noise."
Narimori's face showed a tinge of guilt as he saw Ayanokouji listening intently.
"Children naturally fear sudden loud noises. Albert soon burst into tears and displayed clear signs of fear. After repeating this pairing several times, Albert began to fear the rat even when no sound was made."
"Seventeen days later, this fear had generalized. Albert became distressed at the sight of other furry objects—a rabbit, a dog, a fur coat, even a Santa mask with white cotton beard."
Then Narimori dropped the weight of the story, locking eyes with Ayanokouji:
"This infamous, ethically condemned experiment was conducted by none other than your admired psychologist—John Broadus Watson."
He closed his eyes painfully and said in a low voice:
"At least Watson only twisted one child. But what you're doing now, Sensei..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
Ever since the program began using newborns instead of children, Narimori had found it increasingly difficult to accept—especially after becoming a father.
Having devoted all his love to his daughter, Sakayanagi Arisu, he had grown disillusioned and hesitant about the White Room's future.
He had thought long and hard about saying these words today, gazing at his revered teacher with hope, wishing for even the slightest change of heart.
But what he saw was not reflection or doubt.
It was ambition—near-fanatical ambition.
The situation was sliding toward something unforeseeable. Like the opening to a tragedy.
"I see."
"A fascinating experiment. Very enlightening."
The man smiled as he flipped through the documents in his hand. Starting with the fourth generation, all children brought into the White Room lost their surnames. Only a simple given name was retained for ease of reference.
Line by line, word by word, the names of each test subject—each infant—passed before Sakayanagi Narimori's eyes.
"Let it begin now. It's not too late."
Ayanokouji Atsuomi made his declaration as his finger landed on a name.
Narimori looked over, somewhat dazed:
[White Room, Fifth Generation]
[Ryo]
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
To Read Advanced Chapters, and support this novel, please join me on [email protected]/geats2000