This very moment, in a 1st year classroom within the Advanced Nurturing high school.

The teacher was teaching a coarse and extremely low level curriculum.

Students my age were actually scratching their heads when faced with a question that bored me to tears.

I then created an illusion with a bunch of kindergarten students with me as an adult in the midst of them.

This wasn’t the first time, but I lamented the futility of the learning here, and the waste of precious time.

Every now and then, a certain someone popped into my head.

Because, just like that, the emotion known as “hatred” leaked out of my heart, reminding me why I’m here. And power would inadvertently pour into my right hand that held the pen of the tablet.

Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.

When did I first become aware of that name?

Even if I tried to remember it, it was hard to recall the exact date.

But I’m pretty sure, however, that the name had been etched in my memory for as long as I could remember.

No one who studied in the White Room didn’t know that name.

That was why.

The reason for this was simple. He was better than any student, at any grade or age.

Noone could surpass the 4th generation Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.

As a result, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka was set up to be the perfect model.

Just one small child, but he had a huge impact on the entire White Room.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that those of us in the 5th generation, a year below him, had been influenced the most by him.

It was said that no matter how extreme a training program was, he was able to leave behind a legacy of excellence.

However, as for that, I was the same. I’ve always been the one to have exceptional grades among the 5th generation.

I’ve always proven that I was more of a genius than everyone else.

But…genius as I am, I’ve never been praised even once.

As for the reason, I don’t think I need to say it.

It was always the same cold words that came from the instructor’s mouth.

“Ayanokouji Kiyotaka was much better than you a year ago”

No matter how hard I tried, no matter how excellent my grades were, I still wasn’t recognized.

All I got were commands, telling me to catch up to the unreachable, god-like being.

Some of those who studied in the same room as me began to “worship” Ayanokouji Kiyotaka who had been made a God.

What a shame.

They originally accepted education to become number 1, but they gave up on becoming number 1 themselves.

That kind of person, how could they survive the White Room till the end?

In the end, I didn’t need to snicker at how the group was eliminated one by one.

However, I wasn’t entirely without periods of weakness. While it’s true I didn’t worship him, I suspected that the figure known as Ayanokouji Kiyotaka didn’t actually exist, and instead was just a character used to motivate us.

The instructors must have seen right through my feelings.

One day, I received the instructor’s orders to be taken to one of the visiting rooms used by the outsiders.

It was through a layer of class, but there, for the first time, I was able to confirm the existence of Ayanokouji Kiyotaka with my own eyes.

He couldn’t have known I was looking at him, but he played down his surprising grades.

To this day, I still remember his figure, and shiver without even realizing it.

However, ask me if I felt like I was looking at a God, and I would strongly deny it.

That’s not how it works. That existence is our enemy.

“Worship” wasn’t fine. Only “hatred” was a feeling that could make us grow.

Yes, it was the feeling of hatred that was making my body tremble. It was because of my nonstop hatred for him that allowed me to successfully stay at the White Room until the end.

But at the end of the day, reverence, hatred, and the like were just an individual’s private feelings or thoughts.

To the people in the organization, what the students thought weren’t important.

The ultimate goal of the White Room wasn’t to create people who could become number 1.

Instead, it was to establish the research that could allow for mass production of exceptional people.

That was the real reason for the White Room’s existence.

It didn’t matter if it was me or Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. As long as it was an example of a success, it didn’t matter who it was.

And that was why-failures were of no value.

In other words, if Ayanokouji Kiyotaka was chosen as the success story, then what would happen to the meaning of my existence, who was currently doing all this studying?

It would only be considered as one of many failures, ending a life as a worthless one.

What a tragic end of a road.

I would end up in the same place as the students who were eliminated.

How could I agree to such a thing?

I needed to prove that “Ayanokouji Kiyotaka” wasn’t number one by all means necessary.

I had to be recognized by that organization as the true success story.

And then a once in a lifetime opportunity presented itself to me.

Ayanokouji Kiyotaka breaks his orders, refusing to come back to the recently restarted White Room.

Thanks to this, the me who had never interacted with him before obtained a chance to contact Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.

-That’s right.

The unique opportunity for me to bury him had finally arrived.

And for that reason, it was better to just throw out this fabricated common sense.

By all accounts, killing him…was also one way to solve this problem.