White.
That was the first color Yagami Souta ever remembered—an endless, suffocating white that filled his vision from the moment he opened his eyes. White walls, white lights, white floors. A world so devoid of warmth that even sound seemed afraid to exist.
The White Room did not nurture children. It manufactured results.
And Souta… was its proudest creation.
From infancy, he was molded under relentless pressure: numbers, formulas, languages, martial forms, sensory tests, psychological evaluations—each day measured, each failure punished, each success simply expected. He didn't cry; he wasn't taught how. He didn't laugh; no one showed him why he should. He lived, breathed, and grew for one purpose: perfection.
But perfection, he learned, was boring.
Even at age six, he completed every mental exam faster than the instructors could prepare the next sheet. At nine, he defeated a panel of specialists in simulated negotiations without raising his voice once. At twelve, he dismantled three adults in a "controlled" martial test designed to assess his combat compliance. There was no challenge.No stimulation.
So he developed something of his own—a distorted desire.A craving for entertainment.
Not childish fun. Not joy.He wanted tension. Resistance. Unpredictability. He wanted someone, something, somewhere to make him feel alive. And the White Room, in all its sterile superiority, could not provide that.
Which was why, on the day he first stepped outside its doors, Souta did not feel fear, nor relief.He felt curiosity.
What kind of world awaited him?Who would stand before him?Who would entertain him?
___
The spring breeze brushed his white hair aside as he stood before the massive campus gates of the Advanced Nurturing High School—an institution praised for shaping the nation's elite through meritocratic competition and relentless assessment. Most students saw the place as a dream.
To Souta, it looked like a promising playground.
He adjusted the strap of his black school bag, letting his blue eyes drift across the flow of students entering the campus. Their expressions—hope, nerves, excitement—were painfully easy to read. Their movements, their posture, their whispers… he absorbed them instantly. Ambient reading was second nature; human patterns were as visible to him as ink on paper.
"I suppose," he murmured to himself, "I will not be bored here."
Several girls who passed near him slowed instinctively, their eyes catching on his beauty—white hair that looked almost silver under sunlight, a face symmetrical to the point of unreal, and an aura both calm and unsettling. A handsome boy with an unreadable personality was hard to ignore.
But none dared approach.They didn't know how.And Souta didn't care.
He stepped forward.
___
The classroom was noisier than he expected. Students chatted, introduced themselves, laughed about their middle school stories… trivial things. Things far removed from his world. Souta scanned the room, memorizing every face, analyzing every tone, predicting every relationship that would form in the next month.
Then he saw him.
In the back corner—leaning calmly against his desk, unreadable brown eyes observing the room—sat Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
Their gazes met.
A quiet, almost imperceptible recognition passed between them. Souta's lips curved ever so slightly. Not a smile. More like curiosity tugging at the edges of his otherwise expressionless mask.
Interesting.
Ayanokouji held his stare for a few seconds, then looked away, as if already dismissing him.
Entertaining.
But before Souta could analyze further, a bright voice cut in front of him.
"Good morning! Umm… are you in Class D too?" a girl asked.
She was striking—long chestnut hair, graceful posture, a gentle smile that seemed both natural and forced. Horikita Suzune watched them from nearby, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly, as though the mere presence of friendliness annoyed her.
Souta nodded politely. "Yagami Souta. This is our classroom, yes?"
The girl smiled wider. "I'm Kushida Kikyou! Nice to meet you! Wow, your hair is so beautiful—white is really rare! And your eyes too, they're like ice."
"Thank you," he said smoothly. Compliment accepted, no emotional reaction. Kushida tilted her head, sensing the calm coldness behind his voice, yet still intrigued.
Horikita stepped closer. "You're the quiet type. Judging from your aura, someone who sits back and observes?"
Souta met her gaze with an unreadable calm. "Perhaps."
Kushida laughed softly. "Horikita-chan, don't interrogate him right away!"
"I wasn't interrogating," Horikita snapped lightly. "Just assessing."
"And that," Souta replied, "is why you're interesting."
Horikita blinked, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. A slight pink dusted her cheeks—not from flattery, but from irritation.
He had hit the mark exactly.He always did.
___
Souta selected a seat near the window. The kind that allowed him to observe the class effortlessly. Kushida sat a row ahead, occasionally glancing back with a smile. Horikita sat in the same column but further down, arms crossed, as if guarding herself from human contact.
Ayanokouji was just behind Souta.
"Your presence is bothersome," Ayanokouji said quietly, devoid of emotion.
Souta didn't turn around. "Because it disrupts the balance you prefer?"
"Because you recognize me."
"And you recognize me."
A brief silence.
Then—
Ayanokouji exhaled softly. "This school might become troublesome with someone like you here."
Souta finally looked over his shoulder, eyes gleaming faintly. "No. It will become entertaining."
Ayanokouji stared at him for a moment longer, then closed his eyes as if tired. "Don't drag me into your definition of entertainment."
"No promises."
A single, faint scoff escaped Ayanokouji—so soft it could be mistaken for a sigh. But Souta caught it. Memorized it. Filed it away.
It had been a long time since he had found someone with a mind worth investing interest in.
___
When homeroom began, Chabashira-sensei walked in and delivered her infamous speech about the school's point system, freedom, and hierarchy. The class reacted exactly as Souta predicted.
Excitement.Incredulity.Greed.
Every student thought they had hit the jackpot. Every student except four:
Ayanokouji.Horikita.Kushida.And him.
Souta tapped the desk lightly, rhythmically, as if calculating. Technically, he was. Memorizing voice patterns, cross-referencing behaviors, calculating alliances. This school was built like a living chessboard.
And on a chessboard, he was always the king.But sometimes… the most dangerous kings played like queens.
The class began chattering again as the teacher left.
Kushida turned in her seat, bright eyes sparkling. "Hey, Souta-kun! What do you think about all this? Isn't this school amazing?"
"Indeed." Souta leaned back in his chair. "It has many opportunities."
"And you seem like the type who'll use all of them," she said with a playful wink.
Horikita narrowed her eyes. "Don't encourage him to scheme."
Souta tilted his head. "Why not? Schemes make life interesting."
Kushida giggled. "Horikita-chan, he's teasing you."
Horikita huffed. "I am not—"
"You are," Souta said calmly.
Horikita froze for a moment, irritated again.
But she didn't deny it.
And from behind him, Ayanokouji muttered, "You're going to be a problem."
Souta's lips curved slightly—the closest he came to a smile.
"I know."
___
During lunch break, Souta walked alone through the school courtyard. He didn't need company. He didn't need conversation. But he did need to observe the environment in which he would play.
A group of delinquents from Class C blocked his path.
"Yo, white-hair. You look like some kind of prince or something," the tallest one sneered. "The girls in Class D are already eyeing you. That pisses us off."
Souta's eyes lowered slightly. Not out of fear. Out of disappointment.
"That's all?" he asked calmly.
"What?"
"That is your motive? Attention from girls? How primitive."
The group bristled. "You little—"
The first punch came fast, but Souta moved faster. A simple pivot, weight shift, and the attacker collapsed with a muffled gasp. Before the others even processed what happened, Souta immobilized the second with a wrist lock and swept the third off his feet with a perfectly executed low kick.
Three seconds.Three bodies on the ground.Not a drop of sweat.
He looked down at them with expressionless eyes.
"If this is the level of the student body…" he murmured, "…then I truly hope there are stronger opponents hidden somewhere."
He walked away without another glance.
Above him, unknown to him, two girls watched from a stairwell window—one with surprised golden eyes, the other with amused emerald ones. And from the shadows of the courtyard, another student narrowed his eyes with interest.
The game was beginning.And the pieces were moving.
___
On his way back to the dorms, Souta found Horikita waiting near the path. Arms crossed. Eyes strangely hesitant.
"You fought earlier," she said bluntly.
"Yes."
"That was reckless."
"It was necessary."
She clicked her tongue. "You'll attract unnecessary attention."
"Attention is inevitable," he replied, stepping forward. "But you waited here for more than five minutes. Why?"
Horikita tensed. "…To test a hypothesis."
"And what did you conclude?"
Her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.
"That you're difficult to read."
Souta stopped walking.
Then—
He stepped closer, leaning down to make their eyes level.
"Good," he whispered. "If you understood me easily, you wouldn't interest me."
Horikita's breath hitched. She looked away, flustered.
"Don't say strange things."
"They're only strange because you felt something."
"Shut up."
He straightened, continuing down the path as if nothing happened.
Horikita watched him leave, heart beating faster.
And somewhere behind them, Ayanokouji leaned against a tree, staring silently as if analyzing a rival piece on the board.
___
Souta entered his dorm room. Empty. Quiet. Peaceful.
But for the first time in his life…
He was not bored.
He sat on the bed, hands clasped, blue eyes gleaming faintly in the dark.
"This school…" he whispered, "…might actually entertain me."
Outside, the moonlight fell on the campus like silver threads—threads that would soon weave a story of romance, rivalry, battles, intellect, and distorted hearts.
And Yagami Souta, the white-haired king of the White Room,was ready to play.