With a loud crash, three doors suddenly appeared on the pure white wall.
On the left was a completely open door, through which the familiar figure of a girl could faintly be seen.
On the right was a door painted over with thick black paint, tightly sealing what seemed to have once been a large glass window.
In the middle was a door that looked like it had once been bound by chains.
The sound just now seemed to be the noise of those chains falling to the ground.
Bringing his gaze back to the central door, it slowly opened a crack in front of Asakusa Tōru, as if moved by a gentle breeze.
Peering inside, he was surprised to find that what lay beyond wasn't another cute, beautiful girl.
Instead—
It was a middle-aged man in black clothes, with black hair.
"…Who the hell are you?" Asakusa muttered in disbelief.
Seriously? I beat a cute girl and this is what I get?
He hadn't expected an answer. It was just a casual complaint.
But unexpectedly, a voice responded.
"Simakuten."
Tsubaki Ichika stood calmly beside the open door, expression unchanged.
"He should be… a White Room instructor, more or less."
Her voice was soft. Her expression was calm. Her appearance was completely natural.
Yet Asakusa froze.
"…?"
Wait. What?
He widened his eyes.
"You can talk?!"
"I can," Ichika nodded lightly.
"…Hold on, let me think for a second." Asakusa pressed his hand to his forehead.
Even though he couldn't feel pain here, he still felt a phantom headache.
That there would be opponents beyond Ichika wasn't surprising.
It had taken him a month, but if he used the headband and fully immersed himself, someone with decent physical ability could probably clear her in about an hour.
At that rate, half a month would be enough.
The more he fought her, the clearer it became—
If she were the only opponent, one year would be far too long.
They wouldn't just let him come here to blow off steam, right?
That would be way too lazy.
So Simakuten's appearance made sense.
It was just disappointing that he wasn't a cute girl.
But the real problem was—
Ichika, who he thought was just a training replica, had spoken.
She could talk?!
"Are you the real Ichika?" he blurted out.
Did this gym actually drag real people in for sparring?
"Hmm?" Ichika tilted her head. "Genuine, I guess?"
Asakusa sucked in a breath.
"Damn…"
That's… even more exciting?
The only problem was—
Would he get sued for harassment later?
"…Why would I sue you?" Ichika blinked in confusion.
"In dreams, isn't it normal that the winner does whatever they want and the loser obeys?"
"..."
Asakusa understood completely now.
She was real—but also not.
The 365x accelerated time only felt like a vague dream to her.
Once she returned to reality, she would quickly forget.
Or maybe it wasn't just a dream.
There was probably some distortion of perception too.
Otherwise, she wouldn't still fight in a "teaching style," nor would she answer his questions so obediently.
The combination of both resulted in the Ichika standing before him now.
Still…
How did the gym balance their time?
His visits weren't fixed.
If she had to be pulled in every time he came, wouldn't she constantly feel sleepy in real life?
Ichika gave him a perfect answer.
"I don't know."
Excellent reply. It shortened his post-enlightenment state.
If you don't know, then it's mugwort!
After refreshing his mindset again, Asakusa squeezed a lot of information about the White Gym out of Ichika.
He finally understood this S-rank reward properly.
Besides what he already knew, most of it concerned the new doors.
The opened one was simple.
Just a standard mid-boss.
Since Ichika's strength had its limits, it worked fine against someone inexperienced like him.
But beyond that, it was lacking.
Unlike Ichika, Simakuten was just a normal copy.
He didn't talk.
He didn't do anything extra.
He only fought.
The real focus was the final locked door.
Inside was the "Ultimate Masterpiece."
Not some dark-room "masterpiece" like Yamauchi Haruki.
A real White Room masterpiece.
The Pseudo-Human: Ayanokōji Kiyotaka.
No wonder they gave him a full year.
Without talent, even with membership buffs, clearing this in one year would be hard.
So "pseudo-human" wasn't just about personality.
If you're not human, you're a pseudo-human.
Besides having his emotions erased, Ayanokōji's "talent" was clearly stacked by design.
A pure urban-warrior template.
If this were a normal world, Asakusa wouldn't be surprised if he could dodge bullets.
This guy once beat a group of adults with a baton at age nine.
Not someone to mess with lightly.
Fortunately, his membership time was still plentiful.
As long as he didn't waste his days, and used the headband seriously when needed, he still had a chance.
If the gym made him the final boss, there had to be a way to beat him.
They wouldn't really make him take a graduation certificate, right?
…Of course, having a chance is one thing.
Putting in effort is another.
He'd already worked hard today.
That was enough.
Definitely not because the next opponent was a middle-aged man and he had zero motivation.
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