"Ichinose, I'm afraid you've lost this time," Kiyotaka Ayanokōji said calmly.
"No, no... I can still do something," there was almost nothing left of the former Ichinose. Her pink hair was dishevelled in the cool breeze, and her blue eyes stared at m...
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Everyone is afraid of something. We fear things because we value them. We fear losing people because we love them. We fear dying because we value being alive. Don't wish you didn't fear anything. All that would mean is that you didn't feel anything.
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𝟙𝟘𝕥𝕙 𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪. 𝟚𝟘𝟙𝟜
𝕋𝕠𝕜𝕪𝕠'𝕤 𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕖
Outside came the strains of Beethoven's 7th Symphony. The music came from one of Tokyo's exclusive establishments, where two serious men were playing chess at a gambling table. One was a man in his forties. He had dark brown hair, a slim body and an intimidating face that spoke volumes about his high position. His brown eyes looked intently at the exquisite chessboard, searching for flaws in his opponent's play. Though, it seemed, all the moves were flawless. Still, he carefully rearranged the white piece and suddenly spoke:
"You know, an interesting thought occurred to me, that chess doesn't drive people mad, it keeps mad people sane."
"I completely agree with you, Professor Ayanokōji," his opponent replied, staring intently into his brown eyes.
His interlocutor was none other than Professor Ayanokōji. He is a man who is admired and hated at the same time. His ambition is greater than anyone else's, and his fighting spirit is unyielding and indomitable, even though he has never possessed any special talent. This is the reason why he has risen to the point where, at one time, he could move the country. About 20 years ago, Professor Ayanokōji founded the White Room, an educational institution to educate people and remove unnecessary things from their education, with the ultimate goal of creating generations of perfect individuals to lead Japan in the future. This became as relevant as ever against the backdrop of Japan's economic stagnation - the "Lost Thirties".
"Your move," the professor's opponent said as he rearranged the black figure.
"Not bad, Tsukishiro. " Professor Ayanokōji replied looking at the smooth board and began to think about his next move.
Tsukishiro, a middle-aged man with a permanent smile on his face, was one of the instructors of the White Room, a subordinate of Professor Ayanokōji. He had all the information about the children in the White Room; he knew about every incident in the institution.
