"The mind is neither derived from innate maturity nor from acquired experience, but from actions. Actions are the source of cognition, serving as the medium for the interaction between subject and object. The earliest actions are innate unconditional reflexes. From birth, children react to external stimuli through various reflexes, signaling their needs and interacting with the environment. The subsequent development of various activities and mental operations plays an intermediary role in the psychological development of children, mediating the subject's interaction with the environment." —Jean Piaget, Swiss child psychologist
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[Engagement Contract] was a reward item Kitagawa Ryo received after his first simulation with Karuizawa Kei. Perhaps due to the deep impression that simulation's fiancée, Horikita Suzune, left on him, he had developed a subtle aversion to the item. Not only did he avoid using it in real life, but he also ignored it in most subsequent simulations.
Ryo himself was actually curious about the item's effects. After all, the description "can form a marriage contract with any character" sounded rather crude and straightforward.
He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he chose someone like Ayanokouji Atsuomi as the contract partner...
Startled by the bizarre idea, Ryo quickly suppressed those strange thoughts.
In truth, rather than aiming for a direct clear in this simulation, Ryo was more inclined to finally use the item during this run. He hadn't decided on the target yet.
Although Sakayanagi Arisu seemed like a reasonable choice, for some reason, a faint voice deep in his heart kept warning him against it—as if triggering it would bring about something disastrous.
There was still time. After all, in this simulation he was barely over four years old. It would be best to focus on safely exploring White Room before Sakayanagi Arisu ever arrived.
While listening to the instructors' lectures, Ryo multitasked by organizing the information he had gathered so far. Thanks to his intellectual-type talents—[Eidetic Memory] and [Heaven's Envy]—he could easily handle even the force-fed education style of White Room. Still, he deliberately kept his performance slightly above average.
Initially, Ryo had intended to replicate and closely observe Ayanokouji Kiyotaka's growth trajectory within the simulation. Therefore, he allowed Kiyotaka to remain White Room's most promising experimental subject.
However, the two talents drawn in this round—[Leader] and [Affinity]—produced effects far beyond Ryo's expectations. Perhaps due to the ultimate closed environment of White Room, the fifth-generation subjects were already deviating from their intended course.
And it felt like they were heading in a rather dangerous direction.
Most of the fifth-generation subjects were displaying emotions that exceeded healthy attachment toward Ryo. The egocentric, self-centered thinking was vividly evident among the children. They didn't care about anyone else—they only craved Ryo's attention and favor.
What troubled Ryo even more was that White Room itself seemed to be permitting these excessive behaviors.
Unlike Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School, every corner of White Room was under strict surveillance—even bathrooms and dormitories. This meant the anomalies in the fifth-generation subjects were already fully observed.
Yet despite this, they took no corrective action.
Except for that little girl who suddenly moved into his dorm last night.
Clearly, Ryo still knew too little about White Room, and the constraints he faced were greater than in any previous simulation.
Setting aside the chaotic variable of the [Engagement Contract], the best course of action for now was to stay observant and cautious.
Taking a deep breath, Kitagawa Ryo lowered his head once again and resumed studying in earnest.
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"Another year has passed. How is he doing now?"
Inside the surveillance room of White Room, every movement of Kitagawa Ryo was being monitored precisely. Ayanokouji Atsuomi stared at the boy diligently studying and casually asked.
"No irregular behavior. So far, he hasn't shown any signs of exploiting the other test subjects. It seems he's unconsciously radiating signals of kindness and warmth."
An assistant holding a stack of documents stood nearby, explaining seriously:
"Meanwhile, the psychological conditioning and brainwashing of Yuki have essentially been completed. By subconsciously mimicking Ryo's behavior and adopting a shift in perspective, she has started to exhibit mother-like traits among the fourth-generation subjects—akin to a soft and gentle cloth."
"The effects are quite remarkable."
"Unfortunately, her mental state seems to be affecting her academic performance. Compared to last year, her grades have begun to decline."
"Don't worry too much about the academic performance of those two," Atsuomi waved dismissively. "The handling plan for Ryo has already been finalized."
"First, following last year's plan, we'll administer a highly addictive drug combined with brainwashing techniques to ensure total obedience."
The assistant hesitated before cautiously speaking:
"But... administering such medication to a child of this age would likely mean he won't live to adulthood. He might even die much earlier, which would affect the long-term continuation of the experiment—"
"Isn't that why we have the sixth, seventh, and eighth generations waiting?" Atsuomi cast a cold glance at the assistant.
"Besides, his death was always part of the plan. Based on your earlier report, the majority of the fifth-generation subjects are already dangerously obsessed with him, right?"
"Y-Yes."
"Then we'll use his death as the premise for the next experiment. The ones who survive move on. Those who don't—eliminated."
Atsuomi smiled with perverse satisfaction.
"I've already thought of a name for this experiment: 'Severing the Umbilical Cord.' What do you think?"
"Very fitting."
The assistant nodded enthusiastically. "You mentioned 'first.' Is there a second phase?"
"Yes."
Atsuomi placed his hands behind his back and had the staff zoom in on a quiet, bookish-looking boy in the fifth-generation classroom.
"As you said earlier, Ryo has conquered most of the fifth-generation, but just like any mother has unfilial children..."
A cold chuckle escaped Atsuomi. He turned and asked, rather smugly:
"Do you know the Rosenthal Effect?"
The psychology-trained assistant instinctively wanted to nod, but quickly bowed his head modestly.
"I think I've heard of it, but I can't recall the details."
"It's a psychology experiment I came across recently," Atsuomi said, seemingly satisfied with the response. "In the 1960s, American psychologist Robert Rosenthal and Lenore Jacobson conducted an experiment at a primary school. They gave students from 18 classes a so-called 'Future Potential Test.'"
"Afterward, Rosenthal handed the teachers a list of students labeled as 'most promising,' telling them to keep it confidential to avoid biasing the experiment."
"In reality, the students were chosen randomly. But eight months later, Rosenthal returned and found those listed students had shown remarkable improvement—in academics, personality, and confidence."
"That's the Rosenthal Effect."
"It's a form of psychological suggestion," the assistant quickly added.
"That's only secondary. The real key is disparity."
Atsuomi's tone darkened. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and turned away.
"The same words of encouragement have vastly different effects depending on who says them—a classmate, a teacher, or a famous figure. Likewise, whether you say something to a student, a young adult, or a weathered worker of twenty years—makes all the difference."
"For the Rosenthal Effect to succeed, the gap between the parties must be just right."
"Understood."
"Proceed with the plan. Turn this subject named Takuya into our weapon."
"Yes, sir."
With all arrangements in place, Ayanokouji Atsuomi finally left the surveillance room. It had been ten years since he took charge of this project, yet he still couldn't deliver results satisfying enough.
While Atsuomi himself had time—being in his forties—the Naoe faction backing him likely didn't.
After all, the man behind him was already seventy-eight years old.
Even Atsuomi was beginning to grow anxious. One of the main reasons he took over White Room was to win that man's full recognition and inherit the immense political legacy—paving the way for future elections.
In truth, the White Room project had faced increasing criticism within the faction over the past decade. And that was while Naoe Jinnosuke was still alive. Atsuomi wouldn't be surprised if, upon his death, political enemies moved to force him out the very next day.
"Sakayanagi..."
The name surfaced in his mind. The Sakayanagi family had considerable influence in Japan's political and economic spheres. At first, the Naoe faction had hoped to draw them in, but due to Sakayanagi Narimori's stance, the family had remained detached—understanding but uninvolved.
But if they wanted to buy more time now, the Sakayanagi family needed to show some commitment.
After a moment's hesitation, Atsuomi made the call.
To his surprise, the past relationship paid off—Sakayanagi Narimori agreed to visit White Room.
"If possible, bring your daughter as well. I've heard she's a prodigy. I believe she might find this place quite interesting."
"As for Arisu... I'll ask her."
After hanging up, Atsuomi finally exhaled in relief.
Now all that was left was the presentation.
Just like the photo he once took, cradling Kiyotaka in his arms.
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"Papa, who was that?"
Sakayanagi Narimori slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to his daughter lying on the hospital bed, a gentle smile on his face.
"It was my teacher."
"Oh."
Sakayanagi Arisu nodded. She knew that this so-called teacher was merely a man a few years older than her father. Yet, in her memory, her father always bowed his head and showed humble respect whenever he spoke of him.
"Is something going on?"
Speaking like a little adult, Arisu's tone was casual, but Narimori didn't mind. In fact, he chuckled as he sat down beside her, peeling an apple.
"He invited us to visit his facility. Apparently, he's conducting an experiment to create artificial geniuses."
Upon hearing the phrase "artificial genius," Arisu tilted her head, clearly intrigued.
"Sounds interesting."
"Do you want to go?"
"If I'm allowed."
"Then once your health improves and you're discharged, we'll go."
"How long will that be?"
"Maybe a few more months."
"Okay."
"Do you feel lonely staying here by yourself?"
"A little at first. The toys you bought me—most of them are meant to be played with others. Even the ones I can play alone just aren't as fun."
"Once you recover, you'll be able to play with other children."
"Mhm."
"...Sorry, things have been hectic lately."
"It's fine, Papa has his work."
Checking the time on his phone, Narimori stood up.
"I'll head off now. If anything comes up, just call me."
"Okay."
Nodding obediently, Sakayanagi Arisu watched her father leave the hospital room.
She gazed around the empty white space.
Just like usual, she had a few options for how to spend the rest of her day. She could read—the large bookshelf and desk in the corner were impossible to miss. She could watch TV—the remote was in the top drawer of her nightstand. Or she could take a walk, though only within the corridor on this floor. From the hallway's end, she could see the northwest corner of the courtyard. If she opened her room's window, she'd see the southeast side.
Leaving her bed, Arisu went over to the window, planning to let in some fresh air.
She stood on her toes to open it. Compared to yesterday, not much had changed. The trees in the courtyard stood tall, their lush green leaves forming a dense canopy.
But amidst that sea of green, Arisu spotted something unusual.
She looked up for a long while until she finally confirmed what it was.
A white cat.
A pure white feline, its tail curled neatly around its paws, sat regally atop a thick branch, looking down from above.
A strange feeling washed over her.
It almost looked like the cat smiled at her.
Maybe it was just a fleeting illusion, because in the next moment, the cat gracefully leapt away.
Not thinking too much of the odd encounter, Arisu decided to go for a walk in the corridor.
Despite being one of the most expensive and medically advanced children's wards in the country, Arisu hadn't seen another patient move in since she arrived weeks ago. Apart from occasional chats with nurses, she spent most of her time alone in this building and its attached courtyard.
Still, today felt a little different.
"Artificial genius..."
Arisu repeated the phrase she had heard from her father.
She was genuinely curious now.
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