Book 13: Prologue: The White Room student’s monologue
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?