These people are not normal

[Location: Classroom of the Elite - Japan - Advanced Nurturing High School - Dormitories.]

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, a young high school student, carefully observed every corner of his new home: a simple, functional room, devoid of decorations that might reveal personality, but sufficient for someone like him.

His ever-analytical eyes scanned the smooth walls, the bed perfectly aligned with the desk, and the window that offered a controlled, almost artificial view.

He understood perfectly what it meant: until graduation, he would be completely isolated from the outside world.

No unexpected visitors, no calls interrupting his routine, no responsibilities beyond those imposed by the institution.

That thought, far from bothering him, brought a faint smile to his face.

The smile wasn't one of happiness, but a silent and calculated form of satisfaction.

The school offered privileges that many would consider invaluable: a perfectly designed environment, unlimited resources, and opportunities to shape the future.

But to Kiyotaka, all these advantages were mere noise.

What he truly valued was something much more fundamental: control.

Here, he could decide what he wanted to do, when and how to do it, free from the chains that had bound him during his childhood and adolescence.

This place, with its explicit and implicit rules, was a paradise compared to the prison in which he had grown up.

A paradise where, oddly enough, he could try something he had only heard of: an ordinary school life.

Without bothering to change clothes or worry about uniform formalities, Kiyotaka let himself fall onto the bed, the mattress barely yielding under his weight.

For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes and enjoying the silence—a silence that wasn't forced but natural.

"Well, I guess that's it," he murmured softly, breaking the stillness. Yet, like a candle extinguished by the slightest breeze, the brief smile he had shown disappeared, replaced by his usual neutral expression. Cold. Indecipherable.

Even joy is fleeting…, he thought, his body sinking further into the mattress. It was an emotionless observation, as if he were analyzing a natural phenomenon rather than his own feelings.

His eyes fixed on the ceiling, regarding it as if it were a blank canvas on which to project his thoughts.

One word lingered in his mind, a word that resonated powerfully yet seemed absurd at the same time: freedom.

Freedom… he repeated to himself, letting the word float through his consciousness.

To others, freedom was an ideal, something to be sought and fiercely protected.

To Kiyotaka, it was merely another concept, another tool to be manipulated depending on the context.

True freedom, he thought, was an illusion; there would always be chains, visible or invisible, limiting one's actions.

He had understood this from a young age when he learned that even the act of breathing could be questioned if circumstances demanded it.

So instead of chasing something he knew was unattainable, he chose to stop worrying about it.

First day of classes…, he reflected, shifting the direction of his thoughts.

His mind began to review every detail of the day, like a strategy game where every move had to be calculated.

The faces of his classmates flashed before him: friendly smiles, curious glances, attitudes attempting to project confidence or superiority.

He recognized patterns, analyzed behaviors. Nothing he had seen seemed extraordinary; everything was so normal it almost felt artificial.

The initial interactions, the unspoken rules governing the environment, the apparent calm that enveloped the place—all fit into a mold designed to simulate normalcy.

But Kiyotaka knew better than anyone that what appeared "normal" often served as the perfect disguise for something deeper.

So this is the game they've designed, he thought, letting out a faint sigh. He didn't say it with frustration or enthusiasm. It was merely an observation.

Closing his eyes again, he allowed the darkness to envelop him.

For now, he would play his role: the average, harmless student who attracted no attention. But deep down, he was always prepared to adapt, to act. To win.

Ding!

[Icarus. It seems you're aware that the wax holding your wings will melt under the sun.]

Suddenly, Kiyotaka heard a strange sound, followed by the appearance of a holographic text window partially obstructing his view.

He regarded the window without surprise, maintaining his usual neutral expression. What's going on…?

Though he didn't know much about consumer technology, Kiyotaka recalled that only video games used similar text windows.

However, these required virtual reality glasses, and even then, there were significant differences.

Moreover, as far as he knew, current technology hadn't advanced enough to generate holograms without visible devices.

Analyzing the situation, he considered several possibilities. Is this an illusion? Is someone watching me?

Slowly and silently, he raised his hand to touch the window. As he had suspected, his hand passed through it effortlessly.

He repeated the motion a few more times before stopping. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, his mind already analyzing possible scenarios.

"Icarus and Daedalus…" he murmured, pausing to maintain control. "You may be right. But…," his eyes narrowed slightly, "...I am not Icarus."

Ding!

[I know. So, do you wish to be truly free?]

[Yes. / No.]

Another holographic text window appeared, this time with clear options to select.

Kiyotaka observed them, his analytical mind in full operation.

"Truly free," he reflected. Though simple in appearance, the question hid an obvious trap.

From his perspective, absolute freedom was an illusory concept. He had learned to live with this reality during his time in the "White Room."

The fact that he was being offered a choice between Yes and No was peculiar. In his experience, freedom was never granted without hidden conditions, implicit rules, or unexpected consequences.

This is manipulation, he concluded. However, he also knew that ignoring this offer could have repercussions, given that whoever was behind this clearly had advanced resources to communicate with him.

Kiyotaka leaned back slightly, resting an elbow on the bed while calmly studying the window.

"What does it mean to be truly free?" he asked, not to the window but as a rhetorical reflection. He didn't expect an answer, but perhaps it would provoke a reaction.

Receiving none, he turned his attention back to the options. The neutrality on his face remained unshaken. Finally, he spoke in his usual tone, devoid of emotion.

"If accepting your offer means someone else controls my destiny, then it wouldn't be freedom. On the other hand, if rejecting it means losing significant opportunities, it wouldn't be a free choice either." Having said this, he extended his hand and selected Yes.

Not because he believed in the offer, but because he understood that playing this game would provide more information about whoever had initiated it.

Let's see what your "freedom" really means.

Ding!

[Great! Then, welcome to the "Part-Time Worker Group!"]

Kiyotaka felt a slight unease reading the words.

And then, everything turned white.

---

[Location: White World - Waiting Room.]

Instantly, Kiyotaka felt changes in his body, though he couldn't identify anything specific.

To ensure this, he meticulously examined every inch of himself before turning his attention to his surroundings.

This must be some sort of bad joke, he thought, taking in the endless white floor, the elegant table, and the armchairs.

Though he wasn't bothered by the color white, it was certainly ironic: leaving a "White Room" only to enter another "White Room."

His eyes lingered for a moment on the tea set and sweets atop the table.

White armchairs, black armchairs, and a black table in the midst of all this white. Does it mean something?

Without hurrying, he walked calmly toward the table. He assumed whoever had brought him here wanted him to see this.

Upon arriving, he stood next to one of the black armchairs, observing the sweets, cups, and teapot without touching them.

If this is part of a test, they're probably waiting for me to make the first move.

After a brief analysis, he chose to sit in one of the armchairs, leaning slightly back in a position that was relaxed yet alert.

If this is a game, the organizers are probably watching how I react, he thought, closing his eyes for a moment, demonstrating that patience and control were his best tools.

He assumed that sooner or later, whoever was behind all this would reveal their purpose.

With a curiosity he couldn't entirely suppress, he reached for one of the cups. His fingers grasped it firmly but unhurriedly, as if even this gesture could reveal more about the enigmatic host.

He lifted the cup and brought the liquid closer to his face, allowing the tea's aroma to filter through his senses. It was a delicate fragrance, with notes of jasmine and a slight acidity suggesting high-quality green tea.

An interesting choice, he thought.

Elegant, yes, but not overwhelming. A welcoming gesture meant to convey sophistication without ostentation.

However, just before bringing the cup to his lips, he froze.

Out of the corner of his eye, not far from his position, he saw someone else appear.

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The beginning of the chapter is based on what was mentioned in COTE's light novel. Go read it if you're not convinced. Of course, because the author himself changed Kiyotaka's personality later on, I made my own interpretations.