True Education: I Have a Life Simulator

I want to see Ichinose Honami.

Even though I have lost my past memories, ever since I heard that name in my "sister's" dream, the desire to find her has been buried deep in my heart.

She is someone important to me. She is my true "little sister."

Every night since then, I've tried to find her within the dream world. I believe she dreams—beautiful, vivid dreams glowing in rainbow colors. After all, sweet dreams are a privilege granted to the most well-behaved children.

For the first time, I completely let go of my consciousness and thoughts, sending my signal outward. I'm certain she is somewhere in Tokyo.

The resident population of Tokyo is about 13 million. Each night, those people sleep, either consciously or unconsciously dreaming.

The distance between reality and the dream world is like that of the sky and sea—distant, reflective, never touching.

But for someone like me, I can freely traverse the ocean of dreams. This is my natural ability.

I stood at the horizon where the sky and sea meet, dipping a single finger into that sea of dreams.

Like the scent of blood drawing sharks, a swarm of crimson, brocade-like fish instantly surrounded my finger. I could feel them gnawing at my cold fingertips. I shook them off. They weren't the dream I was searching for.

I retrieved the remaining white bone of my finger and placed it back into my pocket, continuing my search for Ichinose Honami's dream.

The waves crashing at my feet were like corrosive acid, slowly eroding my flesh. Thirty minutes later, I was reduced to a skeleton—still walking, still searching.

I could feel my consciousness being bombarded again and again by foreign dreams. Sometimes I had to stop just to remember my own name, to recall what I was trying to do.

Fragments of nightmares fell like black snow, settling on my shoulders and gradually staining me in a gradient of black and white.

More dreams... were approaching.

Or rather, they were rushing toward me.

Like moths to a flame, dreams surged from every direction—sky and ground alike. Kitagawa Ryo's figure, buried beneath black snow and violent waves, vanished.

When I awoke the next day, I realized a portion of my memory was gone. A persistent neural sting throbbed in my head. My vision was nearly pitch black when I opened my eyes. I rushed to the bathroom and repeatedly touched my face in the mirror, telling myself: I am Kitagawa Ryo.

But that night, I still didn't give up searching for her.

Since all my memories from the past three years in the White Room were fabricated, there's nothing to mourn in discarding them.

One day, two days, three days.

My memory loss worsened. The instructors began to notice my strange behavior. As usual, they hoped my "little sister" could reignite my motivation.

Because for those three years, I was a pathetic existence who only lived for her.

"Onii-chan..."

The silver-haired girl lazily lay on the bed, opening her arms to me. She had grown used to giving Kitagawa Ryo bits of affection—half-true, half-false—and watching him obediently lie at her feet like a loyal dog.

"I heard your test performance hasn't been great lately."

She turned off the harsh white overhead light and switched on the warm orange desk lamp. The soft glow bathed the two of us. In this sealed white room, it felt like the very heart of the world.

I ignored her. All I wanted now was to fall asleep quickly.

The second hand of the clock ticked noisily. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, only to feel a cold hand grab my right hand.

"I'm here. Don't be afraid. It's okay. Even if your performance is poor, I'll stay by your side."

She whispered these sweet words into my ear like lukewarm syrup, waiting for Kitagawa Ryo to surrender once again.

But for the first time, Kitagawa Ryo ignored her.

He quietly fell asleep.

For the first time, Sakayanagi Arisu felt unease.

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It was about half a year later when I finally found Ichinose Honami's dream.

By that time, I had lost about a third of my memories. I knew it was my brain's self-preservation mechanism. After all, the tens of thousands of dreams I had touched over those six months were enough to erase the consciousness of any normal person.

But it was worth it.

Because I finally saw her.

"Mmm, where is this?"

In the dream, Ichinose Honami didn't seem to understand what was happening, but soon she saw me.

"Ryo! Is that you, Ryo?!"

She ran up and hugged me tightly. Just as I had imagined, the cheerful and lively Ichinose Honami was a beautiful and adorable girl.

"This must be a dream," she whispered in my arms. "But this is the first time I've dreamed of you since you moved away."

She must have longed for this reunion countless times. Pressed against my chest, she called out my name.

"Ryo."

"Yeah."

Something felt off. She wasn't calling me "Onii-chan." It was always just "Ryo."

"Ryo."

"I'm here."

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled—a smile that stirred my heart.

From that day onward, I met Ichinose Honami in my dreams every night.

She would chatter about the things happening around her—from the greening of the willow branches in spring, to fireworks blooming in the summer sky; in autumn, the falling sycamore leaves in the park; and in winter, the bird tracks dotting the snowy ground, which she would stare at for long stretches.

She spoke of her mother and sister. In the dream, Ichinose Honami seemed fearless, unburdened. After all, it was her own dream. Everyone has the right to peaceful sleep and sweet dreams. I was simply playing the role of the perfect listener.

In a way, both Ichinose Honami and I were prisoners of the real world. Perhaps only in dreams, where no one interfered, could we carefully build a happiness that belonged to just the two of us.

Day after day, my amnesia showed no signs of improving, but I guarded the memories I shared with Honami in the dream. I locked them away in the depths of my consciousness as my most precious treasure.

"Actually, when that classmate confessed to me back then..."

Ichinose Honami was recounting the scene when she was confessed to for the first time. I had seen it before in my "sister's" dreams—how she even replied on my behalf with a fake letter, pretending to be me, proposing a relationship.

"At that moment, I already knew the letter wasn't from Ryo," Honami suddenly said, smiling wistfully. The smile drew my attention effortlessly.

"Because before that, Ryo had already confessed to me."

A scene flashed through my mind.

Some day, somewhere—it felt like I truly had confessed to someone.

How much time had passed since then?

Four years later, I finally remembered everything before I turned ten.

Ichinose Honami embraced me—a gentle, tender hug that made it hard to let go.

"Ryo, could you confess to me again? Even if it's just in a dream?"

"Honami."

When I realized I was being taken away by the people who adopted me, I ran back to our old home on the last day.

Maybe I didn't yet understand what it meant to love someone. But just thinking about being separated from the Honami I had lived with every day filled me with overwhelming sadness.

It had taken me a week to accept that my parents were gone, and now I had to face being separated from her.

"Huh? Onii-chan, you're back?"

Honami didn't understand the situation. She probably thought my week-long disappearance was just a trip.

She looked at me with surprise and joy as I ran up to her.

"Actually, here's the thing—I..."

My body felt stiff, almost like I was being bound by invisible ropes. Embarrassment overwhelmed me. I tried to recall the scenes from TV shows.

"I... I'm moving away soon."

"Eh?"

She blinked in confusion.

"This is my new address. You can write to me, Honami."

I handed her a note with the address I had memorized at the hospital—the house where my future adoptive family lived.

"And... one more thing."

Before I could even say it, tears welled up. Honami just stared as I began to cry. And, as children do, she started crying with me.

"I like you, Honami!"

"That's what I wanted to tell you."

In the end, I said it.

Later, the White Room erased every last shred of that memory—either by suppression or outright denial—blowing it all away like dust.

Even after forgetting all of it, I still found her again, still fell in love with her.

I nodded at her.

Maybe my confession in the dream wasn't as sincere as the first, but thankfully—it was a dream.

I took control of the dream, pushing my consciousness to its limit. Despite the immense mental strain, I forced the dream to obey my will.

I reached out my hand to her. Like a hero transforming in a tokusatsu show, light flowed from my palm. A white glove materialized, followed by an elegant black suit embroidered with bamboo leaf patterns, stretching from sleeve to chest, covering my body in a pristine, tailored ensemble.

A vivid red carpet unfurled from beneath my feet, stretching toward the dream's edge. Above us, the starry sky bloomed with fireworks.

"I like you."

I kissed her on the forehead. White light danced across her skin and formed a wedding dress—pure white, with layered ruffles and misty lace. Roses bloomed along embroidered vines down her sleeves. The tailored fit, the puffed skirt—she looked like a princess from the clouds.

"Yes, I love Ryo. Not as a brother, but as someone I love."

"This is my reply—four years late."

So from age ten onward, she would never again call me "Onii-chan."

She would call me Ryo, just as I called her Honami.

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Black and white chess pieces clashed on the board, directed by their players in an intense battle.

Sakayanagi Arisu clutched the piece in her hand tightly, lips pressed into a bloodless line. Unnoticed even by herself, her knees were trembling ever so slightly beneath the table.

She wanted to close her eyes and escape, but the ticking clock urged her forward.

She wanted to stand up and run, but it felt like nails had pinned her to her seat.

The pure white room, dreamlike in its serenity, began to dissolve—like pristine snowflakes melting on a scorching iron furnace, vanishing with a hiss.

The boy, who had until now kept his head bowed, slowly lifted his face. Strands of hair parted to reveal his eyes—eyes that didn't smile, didn't rage, eyes that betrayed no emotion yet pierced straight into her.

"Check."

His finger moved a black piece forward, placing it directly before Sakayanagi Arisu—

Sweet and pure overlays of blackened memories were torn apart without mercy.

Kitagawa Ryo had won their seventh match.

Rather than a game, it was a massacre. One-sided, merciless.

The fluorescent ceiling lights flickered like distant stars that blink out all too soon.

The chessboard's boundaries wavered, indistinct and unreal.

Everything before her seemed separated by a thick film, and sounds around her dulled into incomprehensible murmurs.

A heaviness surged in her chest, choking her—she couldn't speak.

"Then, the game is over."

Absurdity sang its hymn. The truth behind the facade was even crueler than lies.

Kitagawa Ryo stood up, for the first time towering over Sakayanagi Arisu.

"My fake... little sister."

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"Target has escaped through the window! Repeat, target has escaped through the window!"

Crashing down from the second floor while holding Ichinose Honami in his arms, Kitagawa Ryo landed back-first onto the grass he had carefully chosen as their drop point. Fortunately, his bones seemed intact. Rolling swiftly to his feet, he gripped Honami's hand and dashed toward the crowded streets ahead.

"Oi, Sakayanagi. Where's our support?"

From the earpiece, the cool voice of a girl crackled through. But at this moment, it carried the irritable tone of someone who had just been rudely awakened.

"After weaving such an excessive dreamscape for you, now you want me to help you escape the White Room's pursuit?"

"Weren't you the one who wanted to beat me in your own world? Now you're complaining? You're impossible to please."

Ryo continued his sprint with Honami in tow. "What the hell are those people planning? I finally managed to live a peaceful two years with Honami."

"Is this Kitagawa Ryo?"

Suddenly, a deep male voice interrupted the transmission.

"Hm? Sakayanagi's father? The chairman of Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School?"

"It is I," he replied calmly. "Regarding your current situation—being hunted by the White Room—I may have a way to protect you."

"Don't tell me... you want me and Honami to enter your school?"

"Unless you have a better alternative."

"What about Honami's family?"

"I will arrange for their protection. I offer you my word and reputation as a guarantee."

"...Why go so far to help us?"

"Because I want you to prove your value."

Ryo skidded to a stop, his expression shifting to one of intrigued curiosity.

"How?"

"By challenging the White Room's greatest masterpiece, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. The tests will be chess and hand-to-hand combat."

"You must win both."