The atmosphere in the club room still hung heavy after Daiki's mesmerizing performance. The members were silent; even Haruto – the usual disruptor – seemed impressed.
"That was truly..." Haruto exclaimed, pushing his glasses up, "you amazed me, Daiki."
Itsuki nodded gently, his eyes still full of emotion: "That beauty... was terrifying, yet impossible to look away from."
Kenji, who had maintained his cold expression, also gave a slight nod: "Good. Now it's my turn."
Meanwhile, outside the window, the Gyaru group was in a state of extreme excitement.
"Oh my god, I can't believe it!" one girl blurted out, her hands still trembling slightly. "Daiki really... really became a different person!"
Yumi, the group's leader, sighed: "We were wrong to underestimate them. They aren't just weird otaku... they're true artists."
Another girl said excitedly: "I want to see more! I heard Kenji is the last to perform. I wonder what he'll show?"
They jostled for the best spots at the window crack, their eyes glued to the room. Curiosity and admiration had completely replaced their initial mocking attitude.
Inside the room, Kenji began his preparations. He removed his outer jacket, revealing a perfect black vest underneath. His every movement was slow, precise, exuding coldness and control.
"The CEO in my story," Kenji spoke, his voice flat and emotionless, "was not born wealthy. He came from poverty, and from a young age displayed dark emotional traits unlike those of a normal person. He lacked the ability to feel emotions like ordinary people."
On the projection screen CHILDHOOD MEMORIES APPEAR
An image of a terrible slum appeared, with peeling walls, the smell of dampness and rotting garbage. A boy of about 7 with jet-black but vacant eyes sat huddled in a dark corner of the house.
"From a young age, he was different from other children," Kenji said, his voice deep and cold. "While other children cried when they fell, he would just silently stand up, wipe the blood, and keep walking. When his teacher praised him for being a good student, his face remained blank, showing no sign of pleasure at the praise."
Then the projection showed SCENES OF DOMESTIC ABUSE:
The screen showed a drunken man staggering, holding a broken bottle. A gaunt woman cowered in a corner in fear.
"His father - an alcoholic - saw beating his wife and child as a form of entertainment," Kenji continued, watching. "Instead of being scared or crying, the boy just sat silently observing his father's every gesture, watching the scene of his father's rage and the beating of his mother, as if studying it or watching an interesting film clip."
After his father passed out drunk, the boy picked up the shards of broken glass from the bottle, arranging them into the shape of a butterfly on the dirty floor, while behind him, his mother moaned in pain.
And finally, THE TRAGEDY OF THE MOTHER:
"One stormy night," Kenji's voice grew even colder, "when his drunken father beat his mother unconscious, the boy did something that sent chills down people's spines."
On the screen, the boy stepped over the motionless body of his mother, walked straight to the wallet of his sleeping father. He took out a few coins, then turned to look at the bloody scene of his mother before him with an indifferent gaze.
"The next morning, when the neighbors discovered the mother's cold, stiff corpse," the screen showed the scene, "the boy was eating breakfast with the bread he had bought with the stolen money. When asked why he didn't seek help for his mother, he replied: 'She was already dead, what's the rush?'"
The projection zoomed in on the boy's eyes at that moment – those eyes weren't the emptiness of a child, but the terrifying silence of a soul that had died long ago without anyone noticing.
"At his mother's funeral," Kenji continued, "while everyone was crying, the boy was engrossed in counting the number of attendees and memorizing each face. He didn't understand why they were crying, nor did he feel sad. The only thing he thought was: 'Where will I go now?'"
Concluding the childhood section, the screen showed the boy standing alone before the fresh grave, holding a dirty cloth doll – the last gift from his mother before she died. Then he threw it to the ground, stepped on it, and walked away without a trace of attachment.
The screen fast-forwarded to HIS ADOLESCENCE.
On the screen, an image of a classroom with 12-year-old students. The boy sat at the back desk, his eyes observing everyone like a scientist studying specimens.
"He learned that people react to emotions," Kenji narrated, his tone even. "So he began to see life as a grand stage, where he had to play the role of a 'normal' child."
The boy stood before the mirror in the school bathroom, practicing facial expressions.
"He spent hours practicing," Kenji said. "A 'natural' smile had to last 2.3 seconds, the eyes had to squint exactly 30 degrees. A 'worried' frown had to appear exactly
30 degrees. A 'worried' frown had to appear exactly 0.5 seconds after hearing bad news."
He meticulously took notes in a secret notebook: "People like children who apologize," "Tears soften adults' hearts," "A gentle smile attracts attention."
Scene in the classroom: A classmate lost money.
"When suspicion fell on him," Kenji recounted, "he didn't deny it. Instead, he stood up with a perfect expression of 'hurt'."
On the screen, the boy stepped onto the podium, eyes reddening, voice trembling: "I'm sorry for disappointing everyone. I know my family situation is difficult, but I would never...", then he burst into tears – the fake tears falling with precise timing.
"His homeroom teacher, who already pitied him for being an orphan," Kenji continued, "hugged him to comfort him. Not only that, the teacher also organized a donation drive to help him."
Later, the boy sat counting the money he had just obtained in the bathroom, a satisfied look on his face. Then he opened his notebook and added: "Tactic 'Admit and Ask for Pity' - 100% effective."
At a parent-teacher meeting: The boy hugged the teacher, sobbing uncontrollably: "You're like a father to me..." Meanwhile, his eyes remained ice-cold when no one was looking.
"He realized," Kenji analyzed, "that emotion was the most powerful weapon for manipulating others. And he used it with the sophistication of a master."
Finally, an image of the boy being elected class president, always receiving special favor from the teachers. But in his eyes, there was no joy or pride, only the satisfaction of someone controlling puppets.
"He had learned the most important lesson," Kenji concluded the recollection of the CEO's childhood, then imitated the CEO's facial expression and tone from his childhood and said, "In this world, honesty is for fools. Smart people know how to wear the right masks."
These details show the development from an emotionless child into a sophisticated manipulator, laying the foundation for the CEO's dangerous personality later in life.