In an alternate universe where Ayanokōji Atsuomi humored the desires of Ayanokōji Kiyotaka, the story changes in more ways than one. Instead of staying in the White Room until its temporary closure, Kiyotaka suddenly found himself outside the facili...
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Ayanokouji Kiyotaka
From the moment I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by a boundless sea of white.
It seemed almost poetic once I realized I was in a facility named the "White Room."
The walls, doors, and even the ceiling—the first thing I remembered seeing—were all a pristine, sterile white.
Before I found any interest in staring at or playing with my fingertips, I found myself pondering the nature of that white ceiling... idly staring at it. As a baby, you really couldn't do much but stare... and cry.
I didn't know it back then, but I cried because I ached for human connection. Eventually, I learned that no one would come to rescue me, and I abandoned the fruitless act of crying.
Looking back, my response was driven by instinct rather than logic.
This was the first lesson a newborn baby, unable to even speak, learned when coming to terms with its environment.
When I was two years old, I first recognized communication as a means of connecting with others. It was with an instructor whose sole purpose was to fulfill the tasks assigned to him.
I remember him asking something that I couldn't immediately comprehend:
"Guess where the gummy is, and you can eat it."
His words were devoid of emotion, spoken with indifference. The instructor was utterly detached.
Now, with that established, I began mulling over the words the instructor said:
What's a gummy?
What does eat mean?
Was that supposed to be an action I already knew, or was it another command altogether?
I couldn't understand what he was talking about, but I touched his right hand as I noticed him using the same hand to grab something before he motioned for me to come closer.
Upon doing so, the instructor opened his hands, presenting me with the object that I eventually found to be a "gummy."
Now, where am I going with this thought?
Simple.
All my life, I have been raised in an environment where I was simply focused on fulfilling an objective.
It did not matter if it meant anything or how we would feel about the task.
What mattered was that we produced results, which I've been doing from the very beginning.
Initially, I would fail in the challenges presented to me, but eventually, I surpassed everyone in all fields and disciplines that were taught to us. Academically, physically, psychologically, and even in mundane fields like the culinary arts, I excelled.
