"Still can't process it?" Yukio watched Amasawa with that dazed, brain-short-circuit look and nearly laughed. It was rare—ridiculously rare—to see the little devil kouhai look this cute and stupid.
"I-I absolutely can't!" Amasawa shook her head so hard her twin-tails practically turned into double meteor hammers. "N-No—this is supposed to be a secret! Tsukishiro—Tsukishiro-san wouldn't tell you something like that!"
She looked like a living "why?" machine now.
"Senpai, how did you even find out about the White Room?!"
"Sakayanagi told me." Yukio gave her the short version—Sakayanagi's background, her father's position, and the fact that the former chairman had once been Ayanokoji's father's student.
Amasawa's head spun. She wobbled a little, as if physically dizzy.
"S-So you're saying… you knew everything from the beginning?"
"That's right." Yukio tapped her forehead lightly. "Back at the start of the school year—when you came to the student council to cozy up to me on Tsukishiro's behalf—I already knew."
"W-What the heck…" Amasawa muttered, lowering her head. It was hard to tell if she was sulking or thrilled, but the corners of her mouth still crept upward anyway.
So by Yukio's logic… he'd been the first person to know she was from the White Room—and instead of distancing himself, he'd played with her. Hung out. Treated her like normal.
That loosened the tight knot in her chest by half.
Because what she'd feared most—more than anything—was that once he understood how scary the White Room really was, he'd back away from her like she was some artificial monster.
"Heh… hehehe~" Amasawa started giggling again, and Yukio honestly didn't know what to do with her.
"You're happy?" he asked.
Amasawa had recovered enough to keep chatting—keep him here—so she nodded brightly.
"Of course I'm happy, senpai! You have no idea how much I've wanted a friend from the outside world!"
"Or—more specifically… a friend who doesn't care where I come from."
"It's just the White Room," Yukio said, shaking his head. "I really don't think coming out of some facility makes you that special."
"..."
The moment "where I come from" came up, Amasawa went quiet again—like her mind had brushed against something she didn't want to touch.
But this time it wasn't a gloomy silence. It was… weirdly cautious. She sneaked a glance up at Yukio like she was stealing candy.
Yukio caught it. He reached over and pinched her cheek, then let go.
"If you've got something to say, just say it. No matter how 'special' your background is, it doesn't matter. I'm not scared of it."
In Yukio's head, it was simple: what could possibly top his situation? Being special couldn't get weirder than being a freaking transmigrator.
Maybe it was trust. Maybe she'd just held it in too long. Either way, after a few seconds of stammering, Amasawa finally confessed, sincerely:
"Actually… I'm an orphan."
Yukio blinked.
That didn't sound special at all—just sad.
He quickly tried to keep it off his face, weighing what he should say. My condolences? Don't be sad?
Then—hard reversal.
Amasawa lifted a hand and thoughtfully rubbed her chin.
"Well… that's not totally accurate. My parents might still be alive. But I am an orphan."
"..." Yukio's face twitched. So… Schrodinger's parents? Alive and dead at the same time?
Amasawa seemed to realize she was only making things worse.
"Ugh—okay!" she blurted the truth out. "Senpai, I'm a test-tube baby."
"Like… like the kind where your parents' genetics get collected, and then you're born through scientific methods. I've never met them—not even once. But according to the White Room's standards, they're probably exceptional people."
Now Yukio finally understood what she meant by special.
Yeah. That was unusual.
A "parent(s) alive" orphan—someone whose biological parents might exist somewhere, but she'd never be recognized, never be claimed, never even be known.
If they were ever going to come for her, they would've done it years ago.
So either they didn't want her… or they didn't even know she existed. Maybe their genetic material was stolen, bought, used without their knowledge—who knew.
An orphan.
But not entirely.
Amasawa was tense now. The half-relaxed feeling in her chest rose again, inch by inch, as she kept stealing glances at him.
Yukio's expression didn't change.
Special? Sure.
A reason to run? Not even close.
He casually flicked her nose.
"That's it? I was about to comfort you about losing your parents."
"~"
Amasawa's mood instantly snapped bright, like the sun coming out.
She could tell he wasn't putting on an act. He wasn't pretending to be chill. He genuinely didn't care. He genuinely wasn't afraid.
Which meant he wouldn't distance himself from her.
So senpai did care about me! Good!
Then when they got back to the cruise ship, she'd try making those three-color dumplings again and go find him—by hand this time.
Still grinning, Amasawa latched onto Yukio's arm, clinging to him shamelessly and distributing some classic girlfriend-level benefits.
Yukio narrowed his eyes slightly… then caught something off.
"Wait. I thought the White Room's end goal was to mass-produce geniuses from ordinary people," he said. "So why bother using elite people's genes to make test-tube babies?"
Amasawa made a dismissive face.
"Who knows? Maybe it's one part of their experiment. Either I'm a control group, or they wanted to prove people like me don't matter."
"Either way, I feel zero attachment to the White Room. It's just… white. Everything's white. Stare at it long enough and you start wanting to puke."
"If you don't care that much," Yukio said, "what are you worried about? Come with me. Let's see what's ahead."
And he started walking again.
Amasawa froze.
He was still going?
Even knowing about the White Room, he still wanted to push forward?
Did he have some promise from Sakayanagi's father? Some leverage? Some hidden card?
But… whether he did or didn't—
If senpai wanted to go…
Amasawa tilted her head, her smile returning to that bright, playful curve.
"Mmm~ okay. Then I'll go with you, senpai."