Slept Enough, Ate My Fill, and Then- / If You Don't Know, Just Use Mugwort!

Set a goal, and you will strive toward it without faltering.

Most of the rewards from the Diary were described in clear terms.

If it said something was one thing, then that was what it was.

However, until he tried them himself, the items wouldn't show him every last detail of their effects.

He had to figure out their uses and precautions on his own.

So, here was the question.

What counted as a "goal," and what did "striving toward it without faltering" mean?

If my goal is to unlock my genetic limit and break my limiter, will it twist my thoughts and change my goal, or will it do nothing at all, as if nothing's wrong?

If my goal is something that will take my entire life to achieve, will it lock down the rest of my life, or warn me not to set such a goal?

The effect was too vague.

Chapter 69: Slept Enough, Ate My Fill, and Then—

Vague enough to make Asakusa Toru a little concerned.

In theory, he didn't need to worry about the rewards the Diary handed out. He could just use them.

But he still had reservations about an item that might distort who he was.

Even if he used it, he would only do so with a full set of restrictions in place.

And every time he used it, he would have to be extremely careful.

...This was the first time he'd received an item like this as a reward.

No, not entirely. The Mind-Calming Popsicle from before had a similar effect on his emotions.

But the two couldn't be lumped together.

"..." After hesitating for a while, Asakusa Toru tried tying it around his forehead.

He had said he'd let it gather dust, but it felt wrong not to at least try out a reward he'd received.

It was his first time getting an item with a B rating.

He had to give it a try.

He reached to the bedside and grabbed his Personal Terminal, noted the time, set an alarm for three minutes later, then opened the stopwatch.

He set the terminal down.

Then Asakusa Toru quietly stated his goal:

"My goal is to get a good night's sleep three minutes from now."

The moment he finished speaking, he felt a faint sense of restraint. Then his body promptly turned off the light and pulled up the covers.

His eyelids were forced shut.

Darkness, stillness, peace.

Then his consciousness quietly sank away.

"..." He woke up.

"Beep beep beep beep beep—" A moment after he jolted awake, the alarm blared, and his body instinctively grabbed the terminal and promptly turned it off.

Then his body lay back down and his eyes closed.

His steady breathing, along with his abruptly extinguished consciousness, pressed the power button.

When Asakusa Toru opened his eyes again, the headband slipped naturally off his forehead.

The feeling of restraint was gone, and sunlight from outside was faintly shining in through the window.

He really had fallen asleep, and he had turned off the alarm that should have interrupted his sleep ahead of time.

But Asakusa Toru could hardly call it a good night's sleep.

The standard for a "good night's sleep" didn't seem to depend on how he felt about it.

Then...

The sluggish thoughts that came with waking up started turning in the sunlight. Asakusa Toru put the headband on again.

"My goal is to master Magnetic Field Rotation within one minute," he said.

But this time, the feeling of restraint didn't come. The headband tied around his forehead slipped right off.

The goal hadn't been set.

Was it because he couldn't achieve it?

Or...

"Your current 'resolve' is insufficient. You cannot set this goal." A cold voice answered his question by his ear.

"Resolve."

The word wasn't hard to understand.

The driving force that turned will into action and kept someone moving steadfastly toward a goal—that was resolve.

But...

"If I had that kind of resolve, why would I need you?" Asakusa Toru furrowed his brow.

If he had the resolve to do something, he'd do it without needing the headband to restrain him. What would he need it for?

What a joke.

If he truly had the resolve to do something, he'd do it willingly no matter how many times he had to start over.

What was the point of doing something he had no resolve to do?

...Of course, that wasn't always true.

If Asakusa Toru were the type to get bursts of enthusiasm that quickly faded, this thing would be incredibly useful.

It could lock in every surge of resolve and channel it entirely into a fixed goal, then whip him twice and drive him to get to work.

Unfortunately, that wasn't him.

Still...when he thought about it, it wasn't completely useless.

The bright morning sunlight made his body more active, and his physical and emotional needs grew stronger.

He put away the Tenacity Headband, stopped the stopwatch, and threw on a coat before leaving the dorm.

It was six in the morning, and the stopwatch had stopped at six hours and fifteen minutes.

It was a little early, but he could have breakfast.

As the saying went, people had three basic physical needs.

The need for sleep, the need for food, and...

He'd had enough sleep.

And he'd be able to satisfy his hunger soon.

So.

When desire stirred, the "resolve" of the Tenacity Headband would become abundant.

It was time to accomplish the goal he'd been putting off for a month.

White Room, activate!

A clear sensation came from his palm as his fingertips gently rubbed back and forth, as if he were handling a flawless work of art and repeatedly reshaping it into the form he liked.

The faint strength resisting him was like a coquettish act, and the perfectly reproduced reaction dampened his fingertips.

His red headband fluttered high in the air, and Asakusa Toru wore a satisfied expression.

A young girl was probably something like this.

No matter how much she trained her body or polished her skills, there was still a side of her that was infinitely soft.

Sweet spices and copious amounts of sugar mixed together, slowly giving off an intensely cloying scent.

The sugar syrup clung to his fingertips, drawing out translucent, blurry threads. With just a little more winding, a beautiful ball of cotton candy would take shape in his hands.

Don't get the wrong idea. Asakusa Toru was just playing with white sugar.

He had already accomplished the goal he'd set.

It had taken him only one hour.

Surprisingly efficient.

Was it the effect of being single-minded? Or did the Tenacity Headband really possess such power?

When resolve reached a certain level, efficiency began to multiply.

His mind worked with great efficiency, and his body copied the movements with fluid precision.

Most importantly, the boost the White Room gave its registered members.

His thoughts were clearer than he'd imagined, and he copied Amasawa Ichika's movements faster than he had at any point in the past month.

His physical abilities had already improved considerably. Though he hadn't yet reached his limit, he was now more than capable of keeping up with the girl before him.

As mentioned before, Amasawa Ichika would attack him endlessly, but her attacks weren't something he could overcome simply by memorizing a set of moves.

Each attack itself was a lesson. Once he mastered the movements and techniques behind it, the girl before him would abruptly change her stance and switch to a different set of moves.

Asakusa Toru had always wondered: whenever he was knocked down, the space inside the White Room would reset. If Amasawa Ichika were knocked down, would he graduate early, or would he be free to do whatever he wanted?

He hadn't been able to test his theory before.

But now—

He could.

The headband on his forehead slipped off. The one he'd brought in by copying the state it was in back in reality had completed its mission. Asakusa Toru stopped holding himself in a pose that made it seem as if the girl might pin him down and knock him over at any moment, and instead handed her a complete defeat.

Then the sweet scent vanished, the delicate body disappeared from where it stood, and Asakusa Toru's condition was refreshed to its perfect state.

"Whoosh—"

Chapter 70: If You Don't Know, Just Use Mugwort!

With a thunderous sound, three doors suddenly appeared in the pure white wall.

The one on the left stood wide open, and through it he could make out the familiar girl beyond.

The one on the right was locked shut, its door—seemingly meant to have a large glass panel—instead covered over with thick black paint.

The one in the middle looked as if it had once been bound by chains.

The sound just now had seemingly been the chains hitting the ground.

As he turned his gaze back to the central door, it slowly opened a crack in front of Asakusa Toru, as though moved by a gentle breeze.

Looking through the doorway, Asakusa Toru was surprised to find that the person inside wasn't another cute, pretty girl.

It was a black-haired, black-clothed...middle-aged man?

"...Who the hell are you?" Asakusa Toru couldn't help commenting as he looked at the completely unfamiliar man.

Seriously, I beat a pretty girl and you give me this?

Asakusa Toru hadn't expected an answer to his question. He'd just made the remark offhand.

But then, as if responding to his question, an unexpected voice came from nearby.

"Simak Dian." Amasawa Ichika stood calmly by the open door, still expressionless, and quietly answered Asakusa Toru's question. "I suppose you could say he's an instructor at the White Room?"

Her voice was soft, her expression calm, and her appearance seemed perfectly natural.

But Asakusa Toru was stunned.

"...?"