Ayanokoji's Nightlife (Continued)

I couldn't understand it. I had made it perfectly clear that I had never trusted him, and I had even given his information to the Empress Group, who would use it to cause him trouble. So why had he responded by showing his appreciation for me? Wasn't being betrayed by a friend supposed to be upsetting and infuriating?

It had even shaken the values I'd built up as an ordinary person. And if I looked at him through the lens of the White Room, his behavior still went against the White Room's Victory-Firstism.

Why? I didn't understand.

He continued to show me kindness as always, but I didn't know what to do.

Should I be wary of him? Or should I keep accepting his kindness? Both responses seemed to suit his aims, and since I was supposed to be opposing him, I shouldn't be playing along with his plans.

So what was I supposed to do???

"If you can't figure it out, why not just accept it all? As the Masterpiece, do you really have anything to fear from my little tricks?"

That was his advice to me in my confusion—a clumsy, ridiculous attempt to provoke me.

"If you're really scared, feel free to try and get me expelled from this school. I'm looking forward to seeing what you do."

Another obvious provocation.

But I wasn't going to take the bait.

Getting him expelled would mean giving up the relaxed, free life I had now and going back to the way I'd been in the White Room. That went against my original intentions.

So I wouldn't take any of his advice. I was who I was, and I would fight only for my freedom.

And so... a month went by. I kept using my own methods to get closer to Horikita Suzune, while he still made no moves. He continued to teach me how to interact with people, cooked delicious food for me in different ways every day, and forced me to wash the dishes under the motto He Who Does Not Work Shall Not Eat, while demanding I pay for the ingredients.

I really couldn't figure out what he was trying to do.

So today, April 30, after much deliberation, I decided to have an honest talk with him.

I knocked on his door.

He opened it, greeting me as always with a friendly smile.

But instead of inviting me in as he usually did, he said—

"Kiyotaka, there's one more person joining us for dinner tonight. You can use this chance to practice making friends."

"Also, as a token of her good faith, she'll be doing the dishes today. So all you have to do is pay for the ingredients and wait for dinner."

He spoke to me as if I were a friend, but what he said put me at ease.

After a month, was he finally going to make a move?

Was the person coming someone he'd prepared to do his dirty work? Or an assassin from the White Room, sent by that man?

But it didn't matter who it was. What I had to do was no different from before—be the last one standing.

My heart raced. I'd never felt this way before.

But when I saw Kushida Kikyo sitting in the spot that should have been mine, the fire in my heart was instantly doused.

"Good evening, Ayanokoji."

"...Good evening, Kushida."

I recognized her. She was one of the few girls in class who actively chatted with boys other than Hirata. Her extraordinary friendliness had made her popular with many of the boys, and she was well liked by the girls, too.

Her social skills were far beyond anything I could hope to match, but she wasn't a threat to me. After I'd refused Hoshino En's suggestion, I'd gotten in with Ike, only to be dragged into trouble by Ike and Yamauchi. By now, my reputation in class was already in tatters.

The barefoot have nothing to fear from the shoe-wearing. He must have understood that, too. So why had he chosen someone like her to deal with me?

"Oh, I was going to talk to Hoshino about something, but I lost track of time and ended up chatting with him until now. Then I heard from him that you get to drink his miso soup every day, Ayanokoji, so I thought I'd stay and try some. I hope I'm not imposing?"

"Not at all. This is En's room, and it's his choice who he invites over for dinner. I won't interfere with his decision."

In front of other people, I still acted as if he and I were on good terms.

"Oh, you call Hoshino by his first name, too? You don't usually show it in class, but you two are really close!"

"We're friends, after all."

I fobbed off her nosiness with a catch-all answer.

She didn't seem like she was planning to come after me, but for the sake of my freedom, I needed to make sure, just in case.

But how could I pry information out of a social expert like her? The approach I'd used to get closer to Horikita Suzune wasn't nearly enough.

Just then, I remembered the Social Skills he'd kept talking about in my ear every night.

Should I try them?

If he'd taught me the wrong social skills, I'd make a complete fool of myself in front of Kushida. But my reputation was already so bad that it didn't seem like things could get much worse.

There was only a potential reward and no risk, so I had no reason to refuse.

So I started chatting with Kushida using the Social Skills he'd kept drilling into me.

And the result... surprised me. They worked far better than I'd expected!

It was easy to get Kushida Kikyo to tell me why she'd come here.

Simply put, although she was Everyone's Kushida, she had her own worries, too. So she'd turned to the kind Hoshino En, who'd given up his seat to an elderly person on the bus, hoping he could help her work through them.

Listening to what she thought of Hoshino En, I suddenly realized something: he treated me the same way—with patience, understanding, support, and kindness... Even though he knew I'd come from the White Room, he didn't seem to treat me any differently from everyone else.

Could he really have nothing to do with the White Room? Was he just an ordinary person who happened to know where I came from?

"Chicken soup's ready!"

Just then, Hoshino En came over carrying a heavy clay pot.

He set it on the low table, then went to the kitchen and brought back three sets of bowls and chopsticks, placing one in front of each of us.

"Tonight's late-night snack is chicken soup made with a whole chicken. Besides the chicken, I added shiitake mushrooms, tofu, and a few other ingredients. It's really delicious."

As he explained, he lifted the lid.

It was as if he had overturned the dark heavens. Golden light bathed the earth, and an irresistible aroma followed.

Golden chicken did the backstroke in equally golden broth, one sexy little leg angled up toward the sky, proclaiming its defiance and fury.

Tender white tofu and sliced mushrooms surrounded the charging general, as if protecting this Golden Soup Hero.

I didn't need fancy words. Just looking at the ethereal surface of the soup, I could tell how delicious it was.

Kushida Kikyo, seeing Hoshino En's cooking for the first time, was just as stunned.

While we were still gawking, he went back to the kitchen to get some rice and other food to go with the soup.

But by the time he returned to the low table, we were still immersed in the soup's delicious aura, unable to pull ourselves away.

"Huh? Everything's ready. Why aren't you eating?"

"No. I was just a little stunned."

Kushida Kikyo was the first to answer him.

"I had no idea you were such a good cook, Hoshino."

"I have to look after my little sister at home, so it'd be a real problem if I couldn't cook."

"Anyway, let's eat. There are only two chicken legs!"

At his urging, the three of us devoured the chicken soup.

In the end, he still gave the two chicken legs to Kushida and me.

After dinner, Kushida Kikyo went to wash the dishes. He and I sat cross-legged by the low table, quietly watching her scrub the dishes and the clay pot.

Usually, I was the one washing dishes at this time, while he watched me and chatted with me without ever seeming to tire of it.

But today, for once, we were both free, and yet he didn't say a word. It made me wonder if he was angry with me.

I suddenly felt guilty about how unreasonable I'd been toward him.

Why? I knew what this feeling was, but I'd never experienced it before. Why had it suddenly surfaced now?

My instincts told me that if I let this feeling take root in my heart, it would eventually become a weakness.

No. If I wanted to be the last Victor, I couldn't have any weaknesses!

That was what my reason told me, but at that moment, I couldn't control how I felt.

Why? This sort of thing... The instructors in the White Room, and that man... They'd never taught me about it...

"Kiyotaka."

As my thoughts grew more and more tangled, he suddenly called my name.

Was he going to make a move against me? Was he finally about to show his hand?!

That was my first thought.

The second was a powerful sense of relief.

Finally... He was finally going to make a move, which meant I wouldn't have to hold back anymore. Thank goodness!!

I waited for him to ask a sharp, probing question, something like, "You don't belong here!" or "Does a tool like you deserve this kind of freedom?" Then I could drop this make-believe mask and calmly declare war on him.

But once again, I'd read too much into it.

"Kiyotaka, how was the chicken soup tonight? Did you like it?"

He simply asked me with a smile, just like he had for the past twenty-eight days.

"Didn't you just boast about how delicious it was? Why are you suddenly unsure now that you've eaten it?"

To hide my increasingly jumbled thoughts, I instinctively used one of the Social Skills he'd taught me to tease him.

"The soup on its own would definitely be delicious, but I've never tried adding so many other ingredients to it. Of course I want to know what the people eating it think of the changes."

He smiled as he looked at me.

"But judging by your expression, it seems to have gone over pretty well."

He looked away, toward Kushida Kikyo, who was washing the clay pot in the semi-enclosed kitchen, and suddenly asked another question.

"So, Kiyotaka, what did it feel like to have a nice conversation with someone?"

He was talking about my conversation with Kushida Kikyo.

How did it feel? In the end, I'd only been trying to get information, so I hadn't felt anything in particular about it.

I didn't answer. He seemed to have expected that and continued.

"Kiyotaka, there's something you might not know. This school admits students based on recommendations from the principals of their middle schools. Without one, even the best entrance exam and interview scores wouldn't get you in."

"Your knowledge is so full of gaps that I'm guessing you never went to middle school. That means you couldn't have gotten a recommendation... and yet you still got in."

"Maybe your judgment's wrong."

I couldn't help talking back. The school had never said that admission required a recommendation. Maybe he was just imagining things.

"Maybe. But someone must have arranged for you to get in. I learned about your past from that person, too."

He'd laid it all out, and I had no way to argue back.

"To be honest, I'm not interested in some 'Artificial Genius.' The so-called White Room is just a way for those politicians to win votes and secure political funding. It has nothing to do with me."

"But—"

He looked at me. His Starry Eyes, beneath his purplish-black bangs, twinkled, and his gaze was so gentle it seemed to brim with warmth.

Judging by his microexpressions, he seemed excited.

"I'm very interested in you, Kiyotaka."

"You left the White Room because you wanted freedom. You're trying to live as an ordinary person, but have you realized that you still think the way the White Room taught you to? That makes you too fixated on winning and on the final outcome."

"Take my kindness, for example. You keep wondering what's really behind it, trying to uncover the original reason and the final outcome, but you've forgotten to enjoy the relaxation and happiness it brings you."

"But is winning really what you want? Do your victories make you feel excited, moved, or happy?"

My complicated thoughts made it hard to think calmly and objectively, and I found myself pondering his questions.

Could my victories make me happy?

No. I could answer that with certainty.

At least during my sixteen years in the White Room, I'd achieved countless victories, but I'd never once felt happy.

The instructors said, "You must win." That man said, "You must win." So I went out and won.

I... was like a puppet on strings.

So why had I left the White Room and come to this school?