<h4>Chapter 427: 1.4</h4>


    After 9 p.m. in the evening, Kei returned home aftering over, and I was preparing for the next day.


    The television that was left on in the background was airing a variety show, which I stopped to focus on.


    A man in his 40s was serving as the host, elicitingughter by joking with theedians. The scene changed, probably to an on-site one, showing a tour around town.


    Observing for a while, the same kind of jokes andments seemed to be repeated endlessly by the host in the studio.


    Five paintings were disyed, with the audience needing to identify which was the real one, creating surprise andughter.


    "Number four."


    Having indifferently muttered the answer, I turned off the TV without waiting for the actual solution. The once noisy room instantly fell silent.


    Kei loved watching TV and often left it on when the two of us were alone.


    While I had no particr aversion to television, having experimented with using various genres for study, I realized I wasn''t especially fond of variety shows. I headed towards the drawer, taking out the sketchbook and colored pencils set stored in the second drawer.


    I had purchased them with my private points shortly after enrolling in school, but I hadn''tid a finger on them since. I recalled the puzzled look on Kei''s face when she discovered the untouched sketchbook in my drawer.


    Spreading the sketchbook on my desk, I opened the silver case containing the colored pencils.


    I reached for the brand-new colored pencils—


    And then I stopped.


    What should I draw?


    If I didn''t think about anything, my hand would inevitably stop.


    I thought I could create something on impulse, but it didn''t turn out that way.


    In the White Room, I learned numerous skills to enhance my aptitude.


    Among these was sketching, which I wasn''t bad at.


    However, the process of thinking and creating on my own was not part of the curriculum.


    I stared at the nk sketchbook.


    After a while, I closed the silver case.


    "Another day hase to an end."


    Muttering such thoughts, I returned the sketchbook and colored pencils to the second drawer. Maybe, as Chabashira-sensei said, this third term might pass by in the blink of an eye.