Ayanokoji remained still, his golden eyes fixed upon the far horizon. Behind him, Karuizawa stood, turmoil etched in her gaze. Though her lips parted to speak, a tremor of uncertainty kept her quiet. Then, unexpectedly, he shifted slightly, a minimal motion, yet enough to startle her.
"Kiyotaka..." she called, voice uncertain. She reached a hand toward him, but he gave no reaction save for a fleeting tilt of his head in her direction.
"I'll return later," he said in a low, measured tone. "I have something else to attend to now."
Before she could demand an explanation, he was gone—his form dissolving soundlessly into the air, as though the vibrant sky simply swallowed him. Karuizawa stood rooted in place, hand still outstretched toward where he'd been, an ache of questions knotting her brow. Nearby, Ichinose, Horikita, Sakayanagi, and the others witnessed the scene, their astonishment matching her own. Yet none spoke. In this bizarre, conjured world of lavish structures and infinite sky, the abruptness of his departure only compounded their confusion.
In another instant, Ayanokoji materialized upon a grand balcony, perched high on the side of a splendid palace. Gleaming pillars, carved with ornate symbols, framed the wide ledge. Below lay an exquisite courtyard filled with marble fountains and a mosaic of color-splashed gardens. Above him arced the boundless sky of this fabricated realm, as unreal as it was mesmerizing.
He moved deliberately, settling into a luxurious high-backed chair draped in embroidered silks. The moment he sat, a faint shimmer appeared in the air. He reached out, drawing forth a large gourd of wine from the ether, then letting his shoulders relax as he contemplated the view.
His seclusion lasted only moments. Without preamble, Chairman Sakayanagi, Chabashira, and Hoshinomiya appeared mere paces away, blinking in disoriented surprise. Their surroundings registered in startled fragments: the lavish balcony, the sweeping sky, the regal figure of Ayanokoji leaning comfortably in his seat. The three of them exchanged baffled looks, struggling to recall any transition that brought them here.
Chabashira was first to recover her voice, drawing a shaky breath. "I-it's exactly the same as before with the cinema," she managed, recalling how they'd all been whisked away to that illusory theater.
Ayanokoji offered no immediate reply. He simply shifted forward, gourd in hand, the faint golden glimmer still aglow in his eyes. The trio's gazes riveted on him: was this really the same Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, the quiet, cold boy from ANHS? Or was he something else altogether now?
Chabashira opened her mouth again, but Chairman Sakayanagi—accustomed to leadership—stepped in with a slight bow. "Ayanokoji," he said softly, using the name with unfeigned respect. "Is there a reason you brought us here?"
Ayanokoji gestured to the chairs arranged around a low table he summoned. "Please, take a seat," he said. In one smooth motion, he uncorked the gourd, pouring a glistening stream of fragrant wine into four cups, each placed at the table's edge.
Hoshinomiya's eyes lit up at the sight of the liquor, but a wary glance from Chairman Sakayanagi reminded her of their responsibilities. "Should we really be drinking? Especially with students—" he paused, then corrected himself. "Ah, but... you aren't exactly a student now, are you?"
A faint shift flickered in Ayanokoji's expression, not quite a smile. "Don't worry. I can detoxify you if necessary," he said. "No harm will come to you."
They inched forward, each choosing a seat. Chabashira, arms folded defensively, appeared riddled with conflict. Only weeks ago, by her reckoning, Ayanokoji was a high schooler in her class—mysteriously advanced yet staying in the shadows. Now, thousands of years old, or so he claimed, radiating an unnatural poise she could barely reconcile. She settled onto a cushioned chair, posture rigid as she warred with her disbelief.
Hoshinomiya remained wide-eyed, darting looks at the gilded columns and shimmering sky. The allure of the fragrant wine in her cup tempted her enough to take a tentative sip. "It's so sweet... how is this real?" she murmured.
Chairman Sakayanagi, though more composed, clearly wrestled with the same astonishment. He took a cup in his hand, but didn't bring it to his lips. Instead, he studied Ayanokoji's face. "You've... changed so much. I—" He trailed off, recalling that old story of the White Room child, the prodigy overshadowing the normal structure of the school.
An uneasy silence slid over them. Each person wanted to speak, but none knew how to start. Hoshinomiya fidgeted with her cup, Chabashira stared at the elaborate patterns on the balcony floor, and Sakayanagi inhaled, steeling himself to form a coherent question. The weight of Ayanokoji's stare pressed on them, his golden eyes revealing neither impatience nor warmth—just a measured calm that unsettled them.
At last, Chabashira cleared her throat. "Ayanokoji..." she began softly, uncertain. She wanted answers: about his transformation, his apparent agelessness, the illusions he conjured—everything that had shattered her understanding of reality. Yet the words caught in her throat, unspoken.
Chairman Sakayanagi risked a gentle prompt, his voice carefully polite. "We appreciate your hospitality, but... can you tell us why you summoned us here?" He glanced around. "Is there something you wish to discuss regarding the students, or perhaps... your intentions?"
He addressed the trio. "I'm aware that you have questions," he began. "But first, let me assure you. I just wanted to speak with you and share a small token in return for the experiences this institution gave me."
Chairman Sakayanagi and Chabashira exchanged a puzzled glance. Hoshinomiya tilted her head, uncertain. In a place like this outside normal reality, Ayanokoji's words left them off-balance.
Chabashira cleared her throat. "What do you mean, exactly? I can understand why you might want to talk with the Chairman or maybe even me," she said, stealing a brief look at Hoshinomiya, "but... why bring her? I don't recall you two ever having direct interactions. At least, nothing of note."
A small flicker of amusement crossed Ayanokoji's features, the sort of faint shift that passed for his version of a smile. "Aside from the fact that Hoshinomiya is a staff member," he said, "I found her personality... interesting. I suppose you could call it a more mature and twisted version of Kushida." With that, he glanced at Hoshinomiya, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through her.
That single look made Hoshinomiya's heart flutter; a shiver climbed her spine. She felt as though Ayanokoji had dissected and understood her very being in a single instant. Oddly enough, that brought a curious warmth—some twisted blend of unnerved and strangely flattered. Her cheeks reddened, and she shifted in her seat, unable to form a coherent protest.
Ayanokoji regarded them all once more and softly continued, "Anyway, no need to maintain formalities here. Call me Ayanokoji, Kiyotaka, Bái Xūé... whichever you prefer. It makes no difference."
As if silently reaching an agreement, the three exchanged knowing glances before nodding.
"Then, Kiyotaka it is," Chairman Sakayanagi said with a small, approving nod. "You may call me Narumori."
Ayanokoji returned the nod in acknowledgment.
"You can call me Sae, then," Chabashira added, her tone carrying a mix of hesitation and amusement.
"And you may call me Chie, K-i-y-o—" Chie's usual playful, teasing lilt trailed off abruptly as Chabashira delivered a firm smack to her arm, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"Shut up, Chie!" Chabashira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I think you've had one too many drinks already. Any more, and we might just have to take Kiyotaka up on his offer."
Chie pouted, rubbing her arm, but her laughter remained unbothered as she leaned back in her chair with a playful smirk.
Ayanokoji nodded at them all, and then continued on. "ANHS itself wasn't the greatest factor in my development," he admitted, "but it gave me a perspective that, in hindsight, altered certain choices I made, choices I would regret afterward. In gratitude, I'd like to extend a favor to each of you—though the scope varies."
He turned to Chabashira and Chairman Sakayanagi specifically. "Yours will be larger gifts," he said. "Hoshinomiya's is somewhat smaller. I summoned her mostly out of curiosity."
Pivoting toward Hoshinomiya, he produced two large gourds from the same shimmering nothingness that shaped the realm around them. The first he handed to her with a calm flourish. "This is the gourd of the wine we drank just now," he explained. "Except it's bottomless. You can have an unlimited amount. More interestingly, you can choose flavors at will—sweet, sour, bitter, salty, or spicy. Switch between them as you like."
Hoshinomiya's eyes nearly glowed with delight. "Are you serious?!" she whispered, tears of joy welling up. She reached for Ayanokoji in a sudden wave of gratitude. "Thank you—this is wonderful—" But in her excitement, she flung herself at him, arms outstretched in what was clearly an attempt at an enthusiastic hug.
Ayanokoji stepped aside, almost without effort, leaving her to crash face-first into the back of his carved chair. The collision made a small clang and a comedic squeal from Hoshinomiya, who promptly slid down the chair's side.
Chabashira groaned, stepping forward to grab Hoshinomiya by the arms. With a wry exasperation, she used a bit of rope from a side table (no one quite knew where it had come from) and quickly trussed Hoshinomiya's wrists, preventing another impulsive tackle. "You should calm down," she said flatly, ignoring the furious, muffled protests.
Ayanokoji suppressed a near-invisible sigh and brought forth the second gourd. "Here," he said, holding it out. "This one contains medicine that counters drunkenness—whether mild or severe. Consider it a complement to the wine."
Hoshinomiya, finally unbound, stared at the second gourd with stars in her eyes, any lingering embarrassment overshadowed by gratitude. "You're the best, Kiyo... Kiyotaka," she managed, stumbling over how to address him.
Before she could continue, Ayanokoji turned his attention to Chabashira. "Now, what would you like?" he asked, his voice strangely gentle.
Chabashira's posture stiffened. "I—" She paused, glancing anxiously at Chairman Sakayanagi and Hoshinomiya, then letting out a trembling sigh. Her words emerged in a rush: "I just... want to apologize. I used you in ways no teacher should. I blackmailed you. And... I regret it more than you know. I ask for your forgiveness!"
Her confession stunned both the Chairman and Hoshinomiya. They never would have imagined that she'd stoop low to blackmail or exploit a young man with such a harrowing past.
Ayanokoji placed a hand on her shoulder, silencing her ramble. "I never truly harbored a grudge," he replied simply. "You needn't ask forgiveness. But... I'll remember this. We'll see what might help you at some point."
A hush fell. Chabashira visibly relaxed, relief warring with leftover guilt. Chairman Sakayanagi observed the exchange with quiet astonishment, apparently linking many puzzle pieces together for the first time—Why Ayanokoji even got involved in class battles, even though it looked like he wasn't even interested in them.
"Sigh... well, if Kiyotaka forgives you, I have no right to get myself involved in that matter. I'm glad that you know your wrongdoings, Chabashira."
She nodded in exchange, her shoulders' demeanor visibly relaxing, as if a heavy load had been removed from her being. At the moment she was more glad, than she would have been if her class had reached class A.
Ayanokoji's death, the reactions to his new life, and some pieces revealing his background—all pieces that changed something within her.
Then Ayanokoji's gaze slid to the Chairman. Hesitation flitted across the older man's features as if he dreaded the topic but could not avoid it. At last, he spoke, his voice tinged with a father's worry. "I—I have a request. Concerning my daughter, Arisu." He swallowed, forcing himself on. "Her heart is weak. Congenitally so. That's why she uses a cane, why she's so short, and why... I fear her future."
A faint smile—rare and fleeting—flickered across Ayanokoji's face. "You want me to heal her?"
Chairman Sakayanagi nodded slowly, eyes glistening with hope. "If it's within your power," he said softly. "I wouldn't ask if I thought it's impossible."
Ayanokoji's response was a single, quiet nod. It carried more weight than any elaborate promise. The corner of his mouth curved just slightly, offering the closest thing to reassurance. "Consider it done," he said.
A faint ripple pulsed in the air as Ayanokoji lifted his hand, index finger pointed outward. Almost at once, a fifth figure took form on the balcony. The emerging silhouette solidified into a petite girl with a slender cane resting in her grip, and a soft beret perched on her head. Her white tights, embellished by a discreet garter belt, completed her refined attire.
Blinking in confusion, she took in her surroundings—Chabashira, Hoshinomiya, her father, and Ayanokoji all poised on a magnificent balcony that shouldn't exist. With practiced composure, she cleared her throat. "Oh my, Otou-sama... Ayanokoji-kun... Chabashira-sensei and Hoshinomiya-sensei." She lowered her head in a graceful bow, lightly gripping the hem of her skirt. "What a surprise."
Before anyone could respond, Ayanokoji traced a single gesture, an almost imperceptible flick of his finger. A burst of translucent energy arced from him, zeroing in on Sakayanagi Arisu. For a fraction of a second, the air seemed to hum. If someone had been able to see into her body at that very moment, they would have witnessed a miraculous sight: Arisu's heart reshaping itself, discarding the congenital weakness that had defined her life. Its structure reformed, becoming stronger, and healthier than even an elite athlete's. A subtle wave of that aura rolled through the rest of her tissues, erasing latent vulnerabilities. Illness, frailty—any threat to her vitality—were undone in the space of a heartbeat.
Eyes wide, Arisu froze mid-bow, her cane clutched in tense fingers. She felt heat rush through her chest, then an odd weightlessness, as though an invisible burden had been lifted. Without conscious thought, she tested the ground under her feet, stepping forward. The usual strain was gone—she moved with an ease that defied everything she'd known. Disbelief showed on her face as she released her cane. Her body, once so reliant on that slender support, no longer needed it.
A spark of awe lit in her eyes. A slow smile spread across her lips, growing almost giddy. She took a few steps, then spun in a small circle, her cane lying forgotten on the marble floor. Drawing a shaky breath, she jumped—actually jumped—lightly in place. The landing was secure and confident, not the precarious drop she'd always known. A rapturous laugh bubbled up in her throat, echoing across the palace balcony.
Arisu's grin expanded in unabashed excitement. Her slender legs carried her in a short sprint across the balcony's radius; the first time she'd run at full speed. Her father looked ready to caution her, old instincts flaring, but then halted himself—realizing she needed no protection from her own body anymore. The cane lay abandoned, proof of her changed reality.
Chairman Sakayanagi could only stare, emotion flooding him. A dull ache of gratitude filled his eyes with tears he tried and failed to hide. For years, he'd carried the guilt of watching his brilliant daughter's life constrained by a failing heart, tethered to caution and limited freedoms. Now she ran circles on a polished floor that wasn't even real, her cheeks flushed with unadulterated joy. He pressed a hand to his lips, the sight hitting him harder than anything in his life before.
At last, Arisu halted, breathing fast, cheeks pink from exhilaration. She stared at her hands, then around at the assembled figures: her father, who looked on the verge of joyful tears; Chabashira and Hoshinomiya, shock etched into their features; and Ayanokoji, utterly calm, his golden eyes betraying only the faintest curiosity. "W-what... just... happened? How?" Her voice trembled, though the answer was already apparent in her own mind.
Yet she saw Ayanokoji's ever-so-slight nod, a gesture of confirmation. The corners of his mouth curved—barely a smile, yet significant. Arisu gripped her cane, holding it not out of need, but almost as a memento of her past. She could stand tall now—run, dance, leap if she wished. The chain that bound her to fragile existence had vanished in mere seconds, thanks to this man who seemed both familiar and utterly alien.
And so the balcony fell into silence, broken only by Arisu's uneven breaths of wonder. Four pairs of eyes fixated on Ayanokoji, the one who had uprooted years of suffering as though it were a trivial errand. In that hush, no words could capture the emotions churning through them—gratitude, astonishment, reverence, and a faint tinge of fear at the scope of Ayanokoji's power.
"Arisu..." her father breathed, voice quivering. He looked at Ayanokoji, struggling to form words. His usual air of authority had dissolved into paternal relief. He took a shaky step forward and reached for his daughter's shoulders. "My... my child, are you—"
"I can't believe it," Arisu said, voice tight. Her violet eyes flickered with tears, yet a bright smile curved her lips. "Everything... it's so light now. No pain, no heaviness." She lifted her gaze to meet Ayanokoji's golden eyes. "How did you—thank you—"
Ayanokoji inclined his head in a brief gesture of acknowledgment. "No need to thank me," he said, looking at Chairman Sakayangi. "It was your father's dearest wish, thank him."
Arisu turned to her father, truly looking at him for the first time since regaining her strength. His usual composed expression was nowhere to be seen—his eyes now shimmered with relief and joy. The barest hint of tears welled at the edges, though he remained still, as if afraid any movement would shatter the moment.
A soft breath escaped her lips, one filled with quiet realization. Then, stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him in a firm yet delicate embrace. "Father," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you. For never giving up on me."
Chairman Sakayanagi stiffened for just a second before exhaling deeply, his hands hesitating before gently settling on her back. His grip was careful, as if afraid she would crumble—but the frailty he had spent years protecting was gone. Arisu, his daughter, stood whole in his arms.
"There is nothing to thank me for," he murmured, his voice steadier than before. "I merely did what any father would do." He pulled back slightly, studying her face as if confirming once more that this was real. His lips parted, but whatever words he wished to say never formed.
Ayanokoji observed the reunion in silence, his gaze unreadable. The sight of a father and daughter embracing stirred a faint sense of nostalgia within him. For a brief moment, a nearly imperceptible smile appeared across his lips before he exhaled softly, shifting his eyes toward the sky.
From the side, Chabashira stared at the transformation with parted lips. Awe and yet again shocked at the inhuman abilities that her former student, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, was wielding.
Hoshinomiya, meanwhile, clutched her newly gifted wine gourds to her chest, blinking as she watched Arisu's joy unfold. She could still feel the echo of Ayanokoji's gaze, which had dissected her so easily. Now it felt overshadowed by the spectacle of a medical impossibility undone in mere seconds. She drew a deep breath and offered the pair a nervous but genuine smile.
Arisu smiled, bright and full, a stark contrast to her usual composed demeanor. Then, she turned her attention back to Ayanokoji, her violet eyes shimmering with something indescribable. "Still," she said, stepping away from her father. "This miracle... it wouldn't have been possible without you."
Ayanokoji watched her with his usual unreadable gaze, golden eyes cool and unaffected, as if he had merely corrected an equation rather than rewritten someone's fate.
"And despite what you say," Arisu continued, "I will thank you as well." She bowed her head slightly, not out of obligation, but with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."
Chairman Sakayanagi, regaining composure, finally wiped away the tears that streaked his cheeks. He drew in a slow breath. "I have no words. You've given my daughter a life she never dreamed possible." His voice wavered; the magnitude of the favor was overwhelming. "Anything you need, anything at all, name it. The entire Sakayanagi family owes you a debt beyond measure."
"I see no debt," Ayanokoji replied, his voice hushed. "As I said, I'm merely returning a favor for the experiences I gained from this institution."
Finally, Ayanokoji pivoted his gaze back to Arisu, who delicately placed a hand to her chest, testing the rhythm of her newly rejuvenated heart. "Try not to overexert yourself too soon," he admonished quietly, though an unspoken warmth colored his tone. "It might take time for your mind to adjust, even if your body is fully healed."
Arisu swallowed hard, tears of gratitude brimming in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling. "Truly... thank you."
Ayanokoji turned his attention to Chabashira, as though some thought had resurfaced in his mind. The teacher, catching his golden-eyed stare, straightened, lips parting in slight confusion.
"I think I have a small idea," Ayanokoji said, voice subdued but resonant. He raised his right hand, pointing a single finger in the same measured way he had with Arisu.
Chabashira flinched involuntarily, recalling how just moments before, that gesture had undone years of congenital weakness in Chairman Sakayanagi's daughter. Before she could speak, a faint pulse of energy rippled through the air, coalescing around her. It felt like a cool wave skimming the surface of her skin, then sinking deeper.
For a heartbeat, her entire body tingled, centered on her chest. Unlike Arisu's transformation, focused on a weak heart, this time the feeling roved through her lungs—years of smoking damage, irritation, and scar tissue dissolving in an instant. Her internal system crackled with renewal, as though a breeze of crisp mountain air had swept through. Any minor illnesses or lurking predispositions also ebbed, replaced by a subtle sensation of vigor. If she'd viewed her body in a mirror from within, she would have seen every fiber rejuvenated, releasing any dependency or craving for nicotine or other substances.
Ayanokoji's touch with reality ceased in seconds, the glow fading as swiftly as it came. He stepped back, hands falling to his sides. "I have removed all smoking-related damage," he said, voice calm as if describing the most commonplace act. "And, like Sakayanagi, I've adjusted your constitution so future illnesses or harmful dependencies won't take root. You won't feel any addictive urges from now on."
There was no trace of pride or condescension in his tone. It was clinical, direct—just another display of his prodigious capabilities.
Chabashira's mouth hung open, fighting to process the results. She inhaled experimentally, and the rush of pure air ignited her senses. She never realized how constricted her breathing had been. Now it felt as if her lungs had doubled in capacity; the sensation of stale heaviness she'd lived with for years was gone. Even her limbs seemed unburdened, lighter somehow.
Overcome, she bowed her head, voice trembling. "T-thank you," she whispered, clasping her hands over her chest. "I... I can't—there aren't words."
Her gratitude stirred a small ripple among the onlookers. Hoshinomiya, still cradling her gifted wine gourds, watched with parted lips, momentarily forgetting her own shock at Arisu's transformation. Chairman Sakayanagi, standing protectively at his daughter's side, allowed a faint smile, recognizing that Ayanokoji's benevolence extended beyond a single favor. Arisu, newly freed from her own physical chains, gazed at Chabashira in empathy, having just experienced a similar rebirth moments before.
Ayanokoji accepted Chabashira's thanks with no change in demeanor. "It's nothing," he repeated quietly. "What I owe, I repay." He glanced around, letting his eyes roam over the silent, conjured courtyard and the softly glowing pillars. "I suspect our time here is drawing to a close. There will be other opportunities to speak, should you need anything else."
Chabashira still bowed, shoulders taut with emotion. For all her earlier scheming and desperation, she now felt a profound weight lifted—literally and metaphorically. Her lungs, her mind, and her guilt all felt drastically eased, thanks to a single gesture from a young man who'd once been under her jurisdiction in Class D.
Unperturbed by the swirl of gratitude and astonishment, Ayanokoji cast one final glance at the group. The hush fell heavier around them, each person lost in thought over the boundaries he'd shattered. Then, before anyone could speak, Ayanokoji's form flickered, fading into translucent mist, leaving only the warm night air and their collective awe in his absence.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
The eastern quarter of Ayanokoji's fabricated realm boasted a sumptuous restaurant, situated at the edge of a tranquil garden overlooking a still lake that reflected the unreal sky. Within the main hall of this grand establishment, just behind a broad row of glass panes, nearly every notable figure from Advanced Nurturing High School had gathered. The soft glimmer of magical chandeliers—their exact source of power unknown—washed the polished floor in pools of gentle light. Ornate tables, made of fine wood with swirling patterns etched into the surface, circled a central fountain of ever-flowing water. Although their alliances and rivalries once divided them, no one seemed inclined to quarrel today. Instead, an unspoken hush had spread, binding them all to a single shared focus: Ayanokoji, the mysterious young man who had conjured this entire domain, and the abrupt, baffling disappearance of Sakayanagi.
Across the large interior, small clusters formed—groups of first-year students, older peers, and even the two graduates who had somehow been roped into this spectacle. The only conspicuous absence among the usual cast of characters was Koenji, whose rumored excursion to the enormous shopping plaza and tanning salon near the mall had evidently taken priority over the swirling drama. No one could quite fathom how he could ignore a realm-bending phenomenon in favor of a sunbath, but then again, Koenji was Koenji. He left with the words: "The perfect existence has no interest in those matters when the main character is absent."
Most, however, had chosen to congregate in this luxurious restaurant, the menu spanning from Eastern delicacies to Western pastries, none of which made sense in a place formed from illusions. Plates materialized upon request, each dish more enticing than the last—products of Ayanokoji's conjuring, presumably. Yet while many had taken seats, few actually touched the food in front of them. Even the most gluttonous among them, like Ijūin Wataru who was known for his appetite, seemed subdued. The tension in the air outweighed the fragrance of the lavish meals. No one was even aware that he was there, and he himself felt lost among all those popular figures—class leaders, social butterflies, and other notable students. He simply followed the smell and arrived here.
From a vantage point near the central fountain, Nagumo stood with arms folded, exchanging uncertain looks with peers like Ryuen, Horikita Suzune, and Ichinose. Horikita Manabu, older and more stoic, loomed at the edge of the group, his posture indicative of deep thought. Nearby lingered a handful of other notables: Kushida wore an unsettled smile, Karuizawa fiddled with the hem of her jacket, and Mii-chan hovered uncertainly. Regardless of their personal conflicts, they found themselves in mutual confusion over the realm's transformation and the sudden disappearances.
They tried to recall if he had left any clue about his next move, but no one seemed to know. In the hush that followed each snippet of speculation, they inevitably circled back to one topic: Sakayanagi Arisu. She too was missing, last seen whisked away in the same ghostly manner that others had experienced—teleported from among the crowd without warning. No one had witnessed the precise moment, just that she had been there one second, gone the next.
Horikita Suzune, arms crossed, retained her usual composure, but there was a discernible hint of tension in her eyes.
"Ayanokoji-kun vanished again," she said quietly, a slight frown touching her lips. "And Sakayanagi Arisu has disappeared too. Given the pattern so far, it wouldn't surprise me if they ended up together."
Karuizawa let out a frustrated sigh, arms resting tensely on the table's surface. "So he's alone with Sakayanagi. Great. Just perfect," she murmured. There was no mistaking the underlying jealousy that tinged her voice, though she tried to mask it behind sarcasm.
Across the room, Ryuen loitered by a marble column, eavesdropping on the conversation with a faint smirk. He exchanged an amused glance with his companion, Ishizaki, before ambling over to join the group. "So you're all fixated on the idea that Sakayanagi and Ayanokoji are off having a private rendezvous?" he remarked casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Could be, I guess. Or maybe she's being tested in some elaborate arena. Who knows with that guy?"
Kushida, who had been lingering on the outskirts, stepped closer, eyes darting around as though she feared an eavesdropper. "I don't think it's a romantic thing," she said quietly, trying to maintain a sweet tone. "At least, that's what I want to believe."
Others from different corners of the restaurant joined the conversation, or at least hovered nearby to listen. Students who once rarely talked to each other—Class A mingling with Class D, or upperclassmen mixing with first-year novices—found themselves in shared puzzlement. The normal lines that once segregated them by class or competition no longer seemed relevant. After all, how could petty rank or rivalry matter in the face of near-omnipotence?
At a table near the tall arched windows, Horikita Manabu observed the scene quietly. He sipped from a cup of tea that had appeared at his mere thought, still grappling with how such a phenomenon was even possible. In the flickering reflection of the polished surface, he thought about how he used to imagine the White Room had produced a once-in-a-generation genius in Ayanokoji. But nothing could have prepared him for the leaps in ability that now manifested as conjured illusions and reality-warping feats. More and more, it seemed each day's new displays defied the entire concept of human limitation.
At the center of one group, Ichinose tried to calm a handful of first-year students who looked particularly jittery. "He has no reason to hurt us," she assured them. "We've only seen him help or vanish. Or conjure illusions that... well, they haven't harmed anyone physically, not that I know of. So maybe we should trust in that."
Meanwhile, Horikita Suzune tried to keep the discussion practical. She folded her arms, her voice measured. "It does us little good to panic. He's not shown aggression; he's told us to explore and enjoy ourselves. Let's remain vigilant, there is no sense in dwelling in fear. Right now, we can only guess that he's with Sakayanagi because she, too, is missing."
Karuizawa exhaled, rubbing her temples. "This realm is messing with my head. Restaurants conjured from nowhere, palaces sprouting from illusions... It's too much. How can we act normal in such a place?"
Kushida placed a gentle hand on Karuizawa's shoulder. "Maybe consider relaxing, if that's even possible. We can't control Ayanokoji's location. If he's spending time with Sakayanagi, it might just be a discussion. We can't let jealousy or fear ruin what little calm we have."
Karuizawa's cheeks grew hot; she swallowed, not wishing to admit how strongly the thought of Sakayanagi alone with Ayanokoji needled her. "I know," she muttered. "I'm trying. This environment just—gets to me. Like we're all living in his toy box."
Ryuen overheard and gave a sardonic chuckle. "His toy box, yeah. Summoned for his amusement. If you put it that way, it stings a bit less, I guess." He eyed a crystal decanter on a nearby table, swirling with some shimmering beverage. "At least the free drinks are top-notch."
He poured himself a glass, not seeming to care about the brand or origin. Taking a bold sip, he shrugged. "He can do anything, right?"
An uneasy laugh fluttered through the group. No one contradicted the notion.
As Ryuen lifted the crystal decanter to refill his glass, a sudden shape flitted behind Karuizawa, accompanied by a playful hum. The group froze, startled by the unexpected arrival of Amasawa—wearing a mischievous grin and tilting her head in a disarmingly cute gesture.
"Aah, it's too lively here for me to miss out, huh?" Amasawa said, leaning in dramatically over Karuizawa's shoulder, her voice bright and teasing.
Karuizawa stiffened, cheeks coloring. "Y-You devil!" she blurted, twisting around to glare at Amasawa. The memory of how Amasawa had all but flung herself at Ayanokoji back in that conjured cinema an hour earlier still rankled, especially since she'd done it in front of everyone. "You keep barging in on everything between us—aren't you satisfied?"
Amasawa responded by waggling her fingers, winking impishly. "You mean hugging him, right?" She giggled, moving away just enough to avoid any potential slap. "I can't help it. My dear senpai is so... huggable, don't you think?"
Karuizawa's flush deepened as she sputtered. "That's not—uh—you—!" She struggled to muster a coherent retort, half-furious, half-flustered by the mention of that very public display. Ryuen, sipping his freshly-poured beverage, watched with smug amusement.
Horikita Suzune cleared her throat to restore some sense of composure. "So, Amasawa," she began steadily, "mind explaining your relationship with Ayanokoji-kun? He casually joked once that you're an ex of his or something along those lines. What is the true relationship between the two of you?" Her tone was curt, but her curiosity was evident.
That question momentarily knocked the grin from Amasawa's face. "He told you that, did he?" she echoed, eyes widening in surprise. A light blush dusted her cheeks. "Well, maybe it was just a silly remark from him, but hey, if he said so..." She trailed off, twisting a lock of her hair self-consciously. A small smile teased her lips as she processed the idea that Ayanokoji had told anyone at all. "He's not the type to joke randomly, though. So... I'm not complaining."
Ichinose, lingering by the table with a half-eaten pastry in front of her, shifted in interest. "Hold on, so you and Ayanokoji were an actual couple? Are you sure he wasn't just messing around?" Her tone had a layer of concern—she, like others, had long harbored a soft spot for Ayanokoji, and this now with Amasawa sparked a tinge of envy.
Amasawa puffed out her cheeks, visibly flustered, as the conversation took a turn straight into her personal history with Ayanokoji. "It's complicated, okay?" she began, shooting a sideways glance at the curious faces around her. "We spent time together at one point. We... clicked in some ways." Her expression softened briefly, flickering with what appeared to be a swirl of memories. "But then things changed. Maybe calling me his 'ex' is just his... weird sense of humor. But hey, I'll take—"
Before she could finish, she abruptly burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained, startling those gathered. The sudden outburst clashed with her usual coy demeanor, drawing every pair of eyes in the restaurant to their circle. A few students from nearby tables craned their necks to see what was so funny."Pftt—hahahahahaha!" Amasawa doubled over, her laughter sounding genuine. It took her a moment to collect herself, wiping away a stray tear. "Sorry, sorry," she said, breathless, "but I can't keep the act anymore. Let's be real: he was just joking about me being his ex. I wish that I was in a serious relationship with him..." A faint sigh lingered under her words. "But we're not."
A wave of murmurs rippled through their small group—Horikita Suzune, Ichinose, Karuizawa, Ryuen, Nagumo, and a few others. Some exchanged relieved or surprised looks, while Karuizawa's shoulders visibly relaxed, though she tried not to show it.
Just as the tension was easing, a new cluster of students joined their mix, drawn by the noise and a fleeting sense that something important was happening. Among them were Ibuki, Shiina, Kiryūin, and a few more from other classes. They stepped closer to the table, picking up on the tail end of Amasawa's confession.
Ryuen, tipping back in his seat, raised a brow in skepticism. "Okay, so if you aren't actually his ex, then what's your real connection to him? I doubt you're simply junior and senior or just random acquaintances. You clearly know more about him than we do. More than a normal 'classmate' would."
Amasawa pressed her lips together, her demeanor morphing from playful to oddly solemn. "Well," she began, glancing around at the expectant faces. "Guess I can't hide it forever now. Secrets won't be kept for long anymore." Her eyes focused on an invisible point on the table, and a subdued hush fell over them, as though they collectively held their breath. "I come from the same place Ayanokoji-senpai does."
For a split second, the entire group froze, as if the statement itself took a moment to register. The air quivered with anticipation. Then, in a low voice, she concluded, "That place is called the White Room."
All at once, an outbreak of stunned reactions rippled through the assembly. Horikita Suzune's hand unconsciously tightened around the back of her chair; Ryuen's smirk vanished into a look of startled interest. Ichinose inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Even Nagumo, who had cultivated a calm persona, let slip a quiet "What did you say?"
The newly arrived onlookers—Ibuki included—exchanged confused glances. A hush settled in, broken only by the distant tinkling of conjured glassware at the bar. This term—White Room—had circulated in rumors about Ayanokoji's mysterious background, but seldom had it been confirmed so openly.
Horikita Suzune found her voice first, cutting through the tension. "White Room," she repeated, letting the words hang. "So... the same facility Ayanokoji-kun came from, this rumored place that shaped him into what he is. This... This actually explains a lot about your skill set, Amasawa. That fight you had with me and Ibuki and your academic abilities, ... it all makes sense now."
Ibuki, arms folded, interjected with a tinge of unease, "Yes, everything comes together now... No wonder we had no chance at the training camp even after all that training."
Kushida, inching closer, recalled a particular tidbit. "And it also makes sense now, the day of the school festival, the encounter you two had; it didn't seem like you were mere schoolmates."
Amasawa nodded pensively, a faint, wry smile on her lips. "Yes, that was part of it. We've known each other... well, 'known' is a strong word. The White Room fosters a certain type of training. Let's just say it's far from normal." She lowered her voice. "I can't give you all the details. But if it concerns Ayanokoji, he was at the pinnacle even by White Room standards."
Murmurs of astonishment circulated. Horikita Manabu, standing at the edge of the group, looked contemplative. "So, you're saying you were trained under the same regimen. That would make sense with the glimpses we've seen of your, or his, inhuman abilities."
Amasawa opened her mouth, ready to speak, when an abrupt hush seized the room. A wave of intangible pressure rolled through the restaurant, as though a gravitational shift had occurred. The lights flickered once, shimmering above the tables.
"What an interesting conversation you bunch all have."
A voice—calm yet echoing with undeniable power—rippled across the air. It was unmistakable Ayanokoji's voice. In an instant, the hush turned absolute. Every conversation halted mid-syllable. Chairs stilled, utensils clattered to a stop. And there, at the head of the long table, seemingly out of nowhere, Ayanokoji himself materialized. The shimmering illusions parted for him like curtains, revealing his poised figure.
He surveyed the group with those golden eyes that betrayed no hurry or surprise. His presence resonated with a subtle aura, both tranquil and commanding. A hush deeper than before claimed the entire space. Nobody dared to breathe too loudly or meet his gaze head-on, except perhaps Amasawa, who openly observed him with reverence.
Several heartbeats passed in stunned silence, the group unable to process his sudden arrival. Even Ryuen, typically the first to break tension with a snarky remark, remained pinned by the sheer authority in Ayanokoji's stance. Horikita Suzune swallowed, transfixed. Ichinose's lips parted but released no sound. Karuizawa stared as though seeing him for the first time, any lingering jealousy overshadowed by relief or awe.
The illusions in the restaurant glowed faintly, reflecting Ayanokoji's presence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity compressed into seconds, he took a single step forward, folding his hands behind his back as though addressing an attentive audience.
No one spoke. Some parted to give him more room, while others remained rooted in place, hearts pounding. The tension that had underlain the entire discussion about Sakayanagi, White Room, and Amasawa's connection now coalesced into an electric hush, centering on him.
Ayanokoji stood at the head of the long table, his gaze drifting from face to face. Many in the crowd found themselves holding their breath, as though fearing that the faintest sound might disrupt the fragile moment. His aura, subtle yet commanding, seemed to thrum in the air, and the flicker of illusions dancing across the restaurant walls intensified in his presence. Finally, he spoke.
"So you're all curious about my past, aren't you?" His voice carried an almost quiet amusement, each syllable laced with composure. "In comparison to what's yet to come, my past is... nothing remarkable. But if it matters to you all, then let's take a look at it now."
A ripple of reaction spread through the group, the silence splintering as they processed his words. Horikita narrowed her eyes, still grappling with the magnitude of Ayanokoji's capabilities. Ichinose tightened her grip on the edge of the table, clearly eager yet apprehensive. Ryuen merely raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat with a calculated smirk that masked an undercurrent of genuine intrigue. Karuizawa looked torn between relief at finally getting answers and flickers of jealousy that still clung from earlier conversations.
Yet before anyone could bombard Ayanokoji with questions about this promised revelation, a bold voice cut through the hush: "Wait—Ayanokoji. Where is Sakayanagi?" The speaker, a second-year from Class A, Hayato Kito, swallowed nervously under Ayanokoji's golden gaze but pressed on. "Is she safe? She vanished a while ago, and—"
A flick of Ayanokoji's finger interrupted the question. In the heartbeat that followed, the air near the center of the dining area shimmered, and a figure materialized as though stepping through a veil of light. It was Sakayanagi, who paused mid-step, looking momentarily disoriented. But she quickly steadied herself, surveying the restaurant's curious crowd, a small, uncharacteristic smile spreading across her lips.
To everyone's astonishment, Sakayanagi had no cane. Instead, she stood confidently, shoulders back, her posture elevated by a renewed poise that defied her old frailty. Some students gasped audibly. Whispers broke out in a chorus, echoing across the golden tables:
"Her cane is gone..."
"Has she been healed...?"
"What happened to her heart condition?"
Arisu Sakayanagi raised a hand to her chest, seeming almost surprised to find no discomfort in the movement, then glanced over to Ayanokoji with a grateful glint in her eyes. Even across the distance, her relief and excitement shone like a quiet glow on her face.
Amid these murmurs, Arisu Sakayanagi turned to the crowd, her voice a gentle but distinct presence. "I see you're all gathered here," she said, not as guarded or haughty as she might once have been. "Yes, it's true: Ayanokoji-kun healed me." Pausing, she pressed her hand lightly to her chest again, a faint tremor of wonder passing across her features. "I've never felt so... normal. Or, perhaps it would be better to say I've never felt more alive."
A wave of compassion and envy poured through the onlookers. Some recognized how steeped in frailty Sakayanagi's life had been. Others saw the implications for themselves, fleetingly wondering if Ayanokoji's power could fix their problems too.
Ryuen's lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes betrayed grudging admiration. "So... you walk on your own now, Sakayanagi. Must be a real upgrade, huh?"
She nodded calmly. "It is," she replied, placing her hands demurely in front of her. "I can't begin to describe how liberating it feels."
Hoshinomiya, who stood off to one side with her bottomless gourd of wine, interjected with a surprised laugh, "You look radiant, Arisu-chan. Next, you'll be running laps around the sports field, I suppose."
The moment Hoshinomiya spoke, every conversation in the opulent, illusory restaurant abruptly paused. The swirl of whispers and exclamations about Sakayanagi's restored health halted, and an almost comical series of heads turned to face the pink-cheeked teacher. She seemed to realize all eyes were on her and froze, gourd still clutched in hand.
"U-um... Did I interrupt something?" Hoshinomiya ventured, forcing a light laugh. "I just walked in from... well, I'm not entirely sure where I was, actually." She shrugged in mild confusion.
"Ahhh—where did you even come from, Hoshinomiya-sensei?" Ichinose asked in bemusement, echoing the collective shock. "We didn't see you enter."
Smiling sheepishly, she lifted the bottomless gourd in her arms. "I was sampling the different wine flavors for a bit. This gift from Ayanokoji... it's... well, it's something else." A flush of excitement crept across her cheeks again. She had grown quite attached to the gourd, if only for its whimsical ability to produce any variety of beverage on command.
Chabashira also approached the table, her eyes flicked to the gourd. "You're going to get into trouble with that if you aren't careful," she commented dryly.
The conversation shifted when Chairman Sakayanagi joined them—spotting his daughter Arisu standing without her cane. The entire group watched him approach with a mixture of respect and lingering disbelief over the man's newfound familiarity with Ayanokoji. As he neared, he nodded a polite greeting to the students, but his focus pinned on Ayanokoji, who stood with an air of distant composure at the head of the table.
"Kiyotaka," the Chairman said gently, using the first name as though it were entirely normal. "Are you truly certain you want to show them... that?"
At once, a hush fell upon the assembled students. Hearing the Chairman address Ayanokoji by name, so casually, created a ripple of astonishment. Many had never heard the man drop formality in public. Karuizawa's eyebrows shot upward in surprise, Horikita Suzune stiffened, and Ryuen eyed the scene with a raised brow, intrigued at the shift in dynamics.
Ayanokoji, unruffled, inclined his head almost imperceptibly. "Yes, Narumori. I see no need to hide this from them." His remark, calm and measured, triggered a new wave of shock: not only had Ayanokoji returned the Chairman's informal address, but he'd used his given name, Narumori. For many in the crowd, that realization was as jarring as seeing Arisu walk freely.
Horikita Suzune stiffened in her seat. Ichinose pressed a hand over her chest, stunned. Even Nagumo, outwardly collected, let a flicker of incredulity cross his face. They'd rarely, if ever, heard the Chairman's given name spoken, and certainly not by a supposed "student." Now, Ayanokoji pronounced it with casual ease, as though on equal footing—if not beyond.
Kushida found her voice first, blurting, "W-what is going on? Since when do you call the Chairman by his first name?" She hesitated, noticing that not only was the usual deference absent, but there was an undercurrent of acceptance from Chairman Sakayanagi. "You... you can't be serious."
Ayanokoji's gaze skimmed over the startled group. A faint dryness seeped into his tone. "Have you forgotten my age?" he asked, letting the rhetorical question sink in. His eyes flicked, almost pointedly, toward those among the crowd who had harbored romantic or personal interest—Karuizawa, Ichinose, Horikita, Kushida, Shiina, and a handful of others who might have admired him from the sidelines. Some averted their eyes, reddening under the subtle implication that they'd overlooked a significant detail.
Ichinose looked torn between embarrassment and lingering awe. "We keep... forgetting that you are much older now. That... thousands of years have passed for you in that other world," she said quietly.
"Precisely." Ayanokoji allowed a moment of silence, watching the words register. "Don't let my appearance mislead you. My time in other dimensions is not something that can be measured by normal chronology. I do look like a young adult but my age is far beyond that."
Of course, they all knew that. Ayanokoji had, after all, already told them how time in other dimensions stretched or warped for him, granting him a life measured in centuries—or even millennia—while mere weeks passed for them. Yet there was a stark difference between hearing such words spoken and truly believing them. That gap weighed on each person's heart, colliding with the mundane reality they once shared with Ayanokoji at Advanced Nurturing High School.
Just a few weeks ago, their lives had been relatively normal. Classes, exams, minor rivalries—all overshadowed now by the presence of a figure who had left them for an impossible interval, returning with godlike abilities. Even if they saw with their own eyes how he healed heart conditions or conjured an entire realm, some part of their minds refused to reconcile "Ayanokoji Kiyotaka" from Class D with the timeless being who looked only a few years older, but was millenniums down a different path.
The hush that followed his reminder reflected that tension. Many pairs of eyes lingered on him, each set brimming with unspoken questions. Horikita Suzune, arms folded, appeared calm but was grappling with a swirl of conflicted thoughts. Ichinose's hand strayed to her chest, as if to steady the quickening beat of her heart. Karuizawa, though she'd repeatedly heard about his extended lifespan, still found it difficult to override her ingrained perceptions—memories of him as a reticent boy, half-lost in his own world.
Breaking the silence, Ayanokoji let out a soft exhale that everyone somehow seemed to hear. "Well," he said quietly, "let's not waste any more time."
A subtle pressure emanated from him, an intangible wave that glided through the restaurant. The illusions overhead flickered, as though reacting to a silent command. Confusion rippled through the crowd, who had grown adept at detecting subtle shifts in the conjured environment. But this time was different—no immediate new image coalesced on the walls, no swirl of cinematic recollections. Instead, a voice—powerful yet oddly intimate—reverberated in the recesses of each listener's mind:
"If you wish to witness the truth about the White Room—my truth—answer yes in your mind. If not, remain here and be at peace."
Their hearts raced. Some exchanged glances, half uncertain if they'd actually heard the words or merely imagined them. Yet the resonance was undeniable: Ayanokoji's presence brushed their consciousness, as though granting them the choice to see more or to remain ignorant. A hush, deeper than any prior silence, gripped them. Even Nagumo, typically composed, looked rattled. Hoshinomiya's mouth hung open, her gourd forgotten. Horikita Manabu narrowed his eyes, pondering the implications. Karuizawa hesitated, anxious but also unwilling to forfeit the chance to learn about his life. Ichinose clenched her fists, more determined than afraid.
The silent question hovered in everyone's mind: Am I ready to see more? Not all revelations were pleasant. The glimpses they'd had of the White Room already unsettled them. And the notion that Ayanokoji had lived an immortal-like span beyond that... was it truly wise to delve deeper? Yet curiosity, empathy, or some mixture of both spurred them forward. One by one—some with courage, some with trembling resolve—they whispered a mental "Yes" or "I want to see."
Then it began.
Soft pulses of luminescence traced across each person's silhouette in the restaurant. Those who mentally answered "yes" glowed faintly, as though enveloped in a gentle sheen. In the space of a heartbeat, they began to vanish, dissolving into shimmering particles that drifted upward before blinking out of sight. Only the faint afterimage of their forms lingered momentarily, like silhouettes scorched into the air.
Gasps rose among the few who hadn't given a response or who hesitated too long. "They're gone!" exclaimed a startled first-year, stumbling back. He'd frozen in indecision and found himself one of the remaining few in the dining hall. The illusions seemed to swirl in confusion around them. Another pair of staff members, uncertain or fearful, also remained in place, hands over their mouths, as they watched nearly the entire group vanish in a cascade of glittering motes.
Amasawa shot a quick wink at Horikita Suzune, for instance, just before her figure dissipated like so many fragments of light. Horikita barely had time to return the nod. Ichinose, heart pounding, had silently pledged her "Yes," and she too disappeared, the ghost of a faint, determined smile on her lips as she dissolved into the conjured air. Karuizawa, face set in anxious resolve, vanished in the same manner. Even Hoshinomiya took the plunge, hugging her gourd in front of her chest, tears of a wild mixture of excitement and dread brimming in her eyes as she allowed the shimmering wave to carry her away.
Within seconds, the restaurant was empty. The illusions remained, chairs and tables standing as silent witnesses. The air felt thinner, as though the very reality of the conjured realm had partially receded.
A final pause ensued—Ayanokoji remained the last figure in the center of the hall, gazing at the table. Then, with a glance, Ayanokoji himself faded. He neither raised a hand nor spoke another incantation—he simply ceased to be, like a shadow merging with the lamplight. A quiet, unassuming departure that belied the cosmic shift his presence induced. And so, the conjured restaurant that had been bustling with questions fell silent and still.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
The new cinema hall was every bit as grand as the last, yet noticeably more enclosed. Ornate columns rose up around the seating area, their carved surfaces glowing softly in the subdued light. This time, however, there were no divisions by class or year; people freely chose their seats in any section they liked.
What truly caught everyone's eye was that the cinema was packed—apparently, almost every single person in this conjured domain had decided to witness the White Room revelations. Even Koenji, who until moments ago had been happily indulging in a tanning session in the massive shopping area, arrived with his signature swagger, curiosity at last overriding his hedonistic self-interest.
For a minute or so, people bustled about, quietly greeting classmates, confirming which seats were free, their earlier tensions muted by the swirling rumors. Horikita Suzune ended up near Ryuen, Sakayanagi, and Nagumo. Ichinose settled in a row not far away, smiling in greeting at Horikita, who in turn acknowledged her with a polite nod. A few seats beyond them, Karuizawa hovered in uncertainty, not sure with whom to sit until Amasawa suddenly plopped down beside her, wearing a mischievous grin. Hoshinomiya and Chabashira, too, showed up with a few staff members, holding their small clique just slightly apart from the students.
Amid this swirl of seating arrangements, the lights around the screen flickered, signaling that something—or someone—was about to appear. In the next instant, Ayanokoji materialized above the main aisle, drifting downward soundlessly. The moment he came into view, the entire cinema fell into silence: voices halted mid-sentence, Koenji paused mid-flex, and Horikita Manabu carefully pivoted in his seat. Even though Ayanokoji spoke not a word nor released any aura, his presence drew all attention like a magnetic pull.
He landed with casual grace at the front row, scanning the crowd. "Take whichever seats you wish. We'll begin soon," he said, his gaze roaming the faces of those assembled: hundreds of students, staff, and notable alumni all gathered in wait for the White Room's secrets.
A hush of compliance swept through them, and people finished settling into chairs. In short order, the front area filled with "important" figures—Nagumo, Ryuen, Horikita Suzune, Ichinose, Sakayanagi, and others of similar status. Horikita Manabu and Tachibana Akane joined them as well, attracted to the gravity of the moment. The staff, including Chabashira and Hoshinomiya, took seats slightly further behind, but still within earshot. Koenji found a place off to one side, still shirtless under an unbuttoned robe—his tanning quest apparently unresolved.
Ayanokoji, as though about to leave them to their own devices, stepped away from the first row. It looked as if he might disappear again into some vantage point, observing from behind the scenes, as he had done in previous reactions. But just as he began to melt into the faint swirl of glowing air, a voice rang out clearly:
"Ayanokoji-kun!"
All heads turned. Standing near the center row, Ichinose raised her hand, cheeks tinged pink but determination flashing in her eyes. She swallowed, glancing around only briefly before locking her gaze on Ayanokoji. "There's a seat free beside me—if you'd like to... well, to sit here."
A ripple of shock coursed through the cinema. People gaped, uncertain whether to admire Ichinose's boldness or cringe at how forward that seemed. An instant earlier, Ayanokoji had been hovering above them, a figure of divine authority. Now Ichinose was openly inviting him to sit down, as if they were normal classmates in an ordinary auditorium. A tense hush followed. Horikita Suzune's eyebrows arched. Karuizawa tensed, her stomach twisting. Sakayanagi's eyes narrowed slightly, and Amasawa let out a small scoff. Even Hosen, lurking further back, growled under his breath, though the reason for his unapproval was for different reasons, yet he knew that going against Ayanokoji meant suicide.
The air practically crackled with disapproval or envy from those who had vested interests in Ayanokoji's affections or simply disliked the idea that Ichinose presumed a closeness with him.
Ayanokoji paused. For a few seconds, he gave no response, the silence weighted by the collective anticipation. Then, with a faint sigh—only barely audible—he let himself descend the steps to Ichinose's row. The entire crowd inhaled sharply, seeing him accept the invitation. Some jaws dropped. It wasn't just that Ichinose dared to ask, but that Ayanokoji actually agreed. He slipped through the aisle and seated himself beside her.
Dumbfounded stares met this development from multiple angles. Horikita, though never openly affectionate, felt a pang of something—frustration, perhaps? She closed her eyes for an instant, suppressing any outward show of emotion. A few seats beyond, Karuizawa exhaled a shaky breath, jealousy flaring more strongly than she wanted to admit. She tried to mask it behind a scowl, crossing her arms firmly. Amasawa raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth curling into a half-smile that acknowledged Ichinose's boldness. Even staff members like Chabashira or Hoshinomiya exchanged knowing glances, unsettled at how Ayanokoji's mere presence stirred such fierce competition among the girls.
Ayanokoji, seated now, seemed momentarily out of place. As the only "adult" in a crowd of uniformed teenagers, he certainly stood out. Not only that, but his apparel set him starkly apart: a long white robe. It was impossible to mistake him for an ordinary high-schooler now.
Sensing the uneasy vibe—and perhaps regretting his choice—Ayanokoji cleared his throat. "If any of you prefer not to wear your school uniforms, remember that you can will an outfit into existence within this realm." He spoke in a measured tone, hoping to distract from the awkwardness. "Focus on it in your mind, and the realm will respond accordingly."
A noticeable ripple of excitement and curiosity spread among the students. Some had toyed with illusions before, but never in this direct a manner. At once, they started experimenting. They closed their eyes, conjuring images of outfits or accessories. In the blink of an eye, their uniforms melted into wholly different attire. Gasps and exclamations filled the space as transformations took hold.
Nagumo, curious about Ayanokoji's style, envisioned a robe of his own—black with silver embroidery. Seconds later, it manifested around him, drawing impressed murmurs from those nearby. Horikita Manabu also tried it, though with a simpler design. A more traditional wrap, reminiscent of a minimalist robe, in a sleek navy tone that matched his serious demeanor.
Other students jumped on the opportunity to don expensive brand clothing they could never afford otherwise: suits, dresses, casual streetwear, all flickering into existence with a single thought.
Ichinose had acted first, conjuring a flowing pink Qiyao Ruqun, its layered folds, and embroidered patterns reminiscent of ancient Chinese elegance. Her hair rearranged itself into a style crowned by ornate accessories, giving her the appearance of a graceful fairy from a distant era. The result was so striking that a collective hush enveloped the cinema for a second time—she looked regal, more like a mythical princess than a modern student.
She turned to Ayanokoji, cheeks flushed with pleasure at her transformation. "So, how do I look?" she asked softly, letting the wide sleeves flow to her wrists.
Ayanokoji studied her for a moment, expression unreadable but calm. Finally, he offered a succinct nod. "It suits you," he replied. "Very elegant." Beneath that measured response, he released an almost imperceptible sigh, as if inwardly acknowledging the fresh wave of female rivalry that was sure to erupt now.
And indeed, a fresh wave of jealousy flared among the girls with feelings for Ayanokoji: Horikita's eyes narrowed fractionally; Karuizawa's lips thinned in mild annoyance; Sakayanagi tapped a finger on her thigh, mind racing; Shiina tensed, half wishing she had done something first; Kushida quietly fought her own exasperation. Over near the staff area, Chabashira pressed her lips together in mild competitive reflection, though she tried not to show it. Hoshinomiya giggled softly at the sight of them all, swirling her wine in the bottomless gourd, half-amused by their bickering tension.
Of course, those same girls quickly manifested their own outfits, each trying to outshine Ichinose. Some mimicked or refined historical Chinese clothing: Zhiju, Wei & Jin Ruqun, Beizi, Songku, or Qipao—each ensemble featuring elaborate hair decorations, hand fans, fine embroidery, or delicate shoes. The cinema briefly resembled an extravagant ancient court scene, the swirl of silks and color mesmerizing. They took turns stepping into the open aisle, asking for Ayanokoji's opinion. He praised them each in turn with polite remarks—though his responses were brief, betraying a faint hint of internal weariness.
No one in the entirety of this starry sky was his match, yet he was starting to get more tired out than even after centuries of battles. "Didn't I just remind them of my age?" Ayanokoji mused inwardly, only letting the faintest flicker of exasperation show in his eyes. "It seems they took it as a reason to compete harder."
At last, Mii-chan approached Ayanokoji, wearing a particularly traditional outfit that was both lovely and practical. Her hair had been styled in an old-fashioned manner, echoing the authenticity of historical Chinese culture. She didn't request simple flattery; instead, she asked earnestly, "Ayanokoji-kun, is this ensemble... accurate? I tried to replicate what I've read about older Chinese dynasties. I'm originally from that background but haven't lived there in years."
A faint smile touched Ayanokoji's lips as he regarded her. "It's the most traditionally accurate in the hall, I'd say," he replied in a low, approving tone. "I've seen similar attire across my travels. You've done well. It suits you quite nicely."
Color flooded Mii-chan's cheeks, a radiant mix of joy and relief. She stammered her thanks and hurried back to her seat, glowing with pride. The rest of the audience, distracted by their own outfits, were just beginning to comprehend how easily they could conjure garments beyond their means. Some wore elaborate modern formal attire; others stuck to simpler, more comfortable designs.
Meanwhile, Ichinose remained by Ayanokoji's side, content with his praise and enthralled by the ephemeral transformations sweeping across the cinema. She stole a glance at his profile—hair white-silver, eyes gold, robe radiant—and felt a flutter in her chest, not dissimilar to the thrill she got when he complimented her. The hush around them carried an undercurrent of tension, as many watched from their seats or from the aisles, half in envy, half in fascination.
Ayanokoji, reading the shift in the air, took a measured breath. He regarded the swirling Qi around them: rows of newly costumed students, staff uncertainly sipping conjured drinks, Koenji in some flamboyant black-and-gold robe that showed off his physique, Nagumo testing out various accessories, and the entire environment buzzing with a borderline festive atmosphere.
Yet as he scanned the scene, the faint exasperation returned. "We'll begin shortly," he announced, voice carrying to every corner of the cinema.
Caught in the moment, people hastily found seats, adjusting robes and gowns. Those who had competed for his attention resumed their places in the front rows. Karuizawa shot him one more jealous glance, but took a seat near Horikita, arms folded in a small pout. Amasawa flopped onto the seat next to her, exchanging a playful grin. The staff, having glimpsed the comedic rivalry, simply shook their heads, half amused and half mortified.
With everyone more or less settled, Ayanokoji allowed a slight exhale. He glanced again at Ichinose's pink Qiyao Ruqun and nodded politely before facing forward. "Now," he said, "let's move to the reason you all came: a deeper look at the White Room. Pay attention."
"On another note," Ayanokoji said evenly, his gaze sweeping across the audience, "there's no need to hold back your reactions. Criticism, insults—it makes no difference to me. In fact, the more you react, the more I stand to gain. This applies not just now, but in every reaction going forward."
Not giving the audience time to react, the lights dimmed slowly, illusions shifting to project a vast screen across the front of the cinema hall. The swirl of vivid color around each occupant receded, leaving the stage set for another immersive revelation. A hush of expectancy descended, broken only by a few last-minute whispers and the soft rustle of elaborate robes as people leaned in, waiting for the story they had come to see.