A Love-Comedy Comes Along with Sex! ~ It Seems the Human Race Will Perish Unless I, Who has Zero Dating Experience, Use my Cheat Penis to Create a Harem and Ensure the Proliferation of Our Descendants ~ - Chapter 90: Aizawa's Nostalgia ③

Chapter 90: Aizawa’s Nostalgia ③

The sound of the tower of blocks collapsing echoes emptily in the room. Adam’s eyes widen for a moment, but he quickly starts picking up the scattered blocks, laughing.

“It fell down. But we can build it again, right?”

His voice is bright, and there is not a trace of hostility or dissatisfaction towards Konoha. His small hands gather each block carefully and return them to the box.

Konoha watches him silently. His movements are so natural that he looks like an ordinary four-year-old child. His vulnerable and innocent presence gives Konoha an impression that somehow seems out of place.

“Konoha-oneechan, let’s build it together again!”

Konoha can’t find the words to respond as Adam waves at her with a smile. She merely announces that the allotted time is up and leaves the room.

The moment she steps into the corridor, the atmosphere changes.

The warmth inside the room—the soft carpet, the texture of the wooden blocks, and Adam’s smile—all seem like a lie. The corridor is cold and sterile, with white walls, pale fluorescent lights, and hard tiles that absorb footsteps.

At the end of the corridor, Konoha sees her father standing. His back has always been like an “impenetrable wall” to her since she was a child.

Konoha approaches him with a disciplined stride and reports, “The mission is complete.”

“I see,” her father replies briefly, his gaze fixed on the observation room.

Konoha watches his profile and can’t suppress the growing doubts in her heart. She has been taught that hesitation is not allowed, but she can’t remain silent this time.

“Father.”

“What is it?”

“Adam… he only looks like an ordinary child.”

For a moment, her father’s eyebrows twitch slightly, a sign to Konoha that he is deep in thought.

“An ordinary child, you say.”

Konoha takes a deep breath and continues boldly.

“Yes. The boy playing with the blocks is just a four-year-old. If we let him live an ordinary life, he can live like any other person, can’t he?”

Her father doesn’t answer her words, instead keeping his arms crossed as he stares at the observation room window.

Through the glass of the observation room, an experimental room can be seen. In the center of this room is a small chamber divided by a transparent wall, where Adam is supposed to be seated.

“Konoha…”

Her father’s voice echoes low.

“What you’re seeing is just one aspect of him.”

“One aspect…?”

“Adam is the only survivor we have.”

His words seem to be laced with bitterness.

“Within him, there lies a power that surpasses the limits of humans. It is our duty to unlock that power. But I won’t deny that there is a part of him that appears to be an ordinary child.”

Konoha chews on his words, sensing that her father is carefully choosing them.

“If he appears ordinary, then…”

“If you let your emotions cloud your judgment, you’ll misunderstand his true nature.”

Her father’s cold voice interrupts Konoha’s thoughts.

“Adam is special. But he is not strong enough to endure being special.”

“He can’t endure it?”

“That’s right. That’s why…”

Before her father can continue, the voice of Dr. Yamadera echoes from the end of the corridor.

“Aizawa, it’s almost time!”

Through the glass of the observation room, the experimental room can be seen. It is a wide, cold space. The walls are lined with countless machines, and silver wiring runs across the floor. The transparent small chamber at its center is the stage for the experiment.

Adam is seated there.

His small back is hunched over in the chair. The innocent face is now hidden, and he looks scared. The restless sensation returns to Konoha’s heart.

“Why is he looking like this?”

Konoha whispers, and her father replies in a low voice.

“He probably knows what this experiment is about.”

“Is he trying to suppress his emotions?”

“That’s Dr. Yamadera’s policy.”

Saying this, her father glares at the man in the white lab coat on the other side of the glass—Dr. Yamadera.

Dr. Yamadera smiles with satisfaction and issues instructions.

“Prepare the injection! Hurry up, you!”

Researchers in protective suits approach Adam, holding syringes in their hands.

“Stop… please stop…”

Adam’s voice trembles. His voice doesn’t reach through the glass, but the shaking of his small body is clear.

The researchers, without hesitation, restrain Adam and inject him. As the transparent liquid flows into his body, Adam stiffens and falls from the chair.

“Is this really necessary?”

Konoha’s voice carries a slight tremor.

Her father frowns and replies in a low voice.

“It’s not a matter of whether it’s necessary or not. Dr. Yamadera chose this method.”

Adam’s body shakes, and he begins to struggle violently.

“By removing the shackles of emotion, we can raise the limits of Adam’s abilities. That is what Dr. Yamadera desires in the ‘Adam Project.'”

Before her father’s words can reach her, Adam screams.

“Aaaaaaaah!”

His fists pound the transparent wall, and he kicks the chair away. His struggling figure is fierce.

Konoha stares at this scene, and she is certain.

“I… must protect him.”

Konoha whispers as she watches the struggling Adam through the glass. Her words are meant to reassure herself.

Her father, standing next to her, speaks in a cold voice.

“What you need is the ability to protect him and your loyalty. Other emotions are not necessary.”

His words are merciless, piercing Konoha’s heart sharply. The command to abandon her emotions—a phrase she has heard countless times since she was a child—now weighs on her more than ever.

Her father continues.

“To discard your emotions is the first step to understanding him. Someday, that understanding will… lead to his salvation. I believe that.”

Konoha narrows her eyes at her father’s last words.

“Salvation?”

Her father’s expression changes for a moment, from his usual cold and stern face to one that seems hesitant and confused. But this change is fleeting, and he quickly returns to his expressionless state.

“It’s nothing.”

He dismisses her with a short reply and turns his gaze back to the experimental room.

Konoha feels something tugging at her heart. It is clear that her father is hiding something, but there is no opportunity to ask.

In the experimental room, Adam’s struggles become more and more violent.

An abnormal force is being exerted from his small body. Chairs and equipment are thrown around, and the transparent wall trembles dully. Still, the researchers in protective suits don’t move. They merely observe Adam’s movements and record the data.

“Is this really necessary…”

Konoha is about to whisper again, but she stops herself. She continues to stare at Adam’s pain-filled cries.

Then, Adam’s body suddenly stiffens.

“!”

His face, seen through the glass, is contorted in agony, and his eyes are vacant. In the next moment, he collapses to his knees and falls to the floor.

The researchers rush into action, and the sound of machinery fills the experimental room.

Aizawa, standing next to Konoha, furrows his brow. His expression is not one of anger but rather one of anxiety and conflict.

“It’s reached its limit.”

Aizawa whispers quietly.

“Is this what they call a ‘new human’?”

Suddenly, Dr. Yamadera’s shouting voice echoes through the observation room, filled with frustration and disappointment.

He turns to the researchers and slams the memo he is holding onto the floor.

“This is not my ideal! Is this what you call ‘Adam’? Is this what you call a ‘new human’? Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake in your data analysis?”

Dr. Yamadera’s voice becomes increasingly harsh, and his face turns red.

“This is just a failed experiment! It’s not a ‘completed human’! To entrust the future to such a weak being…”

As Dr. Yamadera continues to shout, Aizawa quietly opens her  mouth.

“Doctor.”

Her words are filled with the usual coldness and sharpness.

Dr. Yamadera turns around. Aizawa’s expression is as calm as always, but his eyes clearly show anger.

“It is our duty to complete him. But if we break him in the process, nothing will be left of what we have in our hands.”

“Break him?”

Dr. Yamadera scoffs.

“You don’t understand anything. A test subject with emotions is nothing but a defective product. We must erase his emotions and make him a completely controllable being. That is…”

“If we take away his emotions, he will become nothing but a monster.”

Aizawa interrupts. His voice is low and quiet, but the weight of his words envelops the entire observation room.

Konoha listens silently to their exchange, feeling each word pierce her heart.

“It’s easy to turn him into a weapon. But that would be meaningless.”

Aizawa continues, his gaze fixed on Dr. Yamadera.

“Adam is the key to saving humanity. If we break that key, all we’re doing here will be nothing but meaningless violence.”

Dr. Yamadera tries to say something in response but chokes on his words. Instead, his face filled with frustration, he leaves the observation room.

Konoha looks up at her father quietly.

“Father… do you want to save Adam?”

Aizawa doesn’t answer. He continues to stare at Adam, lying on the floor through the glass. His eyes hold a deep something that Konoha has never seen before.

Adam is placed on a stretcher by the researchers and carried out of the experimental room. His small body only repeats faint breaths.

T/N: If you got confused, Aizawa here refers to her father, since Aizawa is her last name. Konoha is her first name.