NCCnovel Chapter 204, A Good Show
Chapter 204, A Good Show
(Thanks to "He Enju, who is breathing rapidly" for the 20 update reminder tokens! Thank you to "hy9169" for the God of Literature certification! Thank you to "me" for the God of Literature certification! Thank you to "Huai Zhe Xiangqi" for the God of Literature certification! And thank you to all the readers for your donations! Taking advantage of the weekend, the chapters for the past two days are both 6000-word long chapters combined. Thank you for your support!)
October 28, 1989, 1:00 AM.
The financial settlement center on the fourteenth floor of the Saionji Industrial Headquarters Building.
Most employees had already left work. In the vast office area, only a few emergency lights remained, emitting a faint white glow. The central air conditioning vents continuously spewed out low-frequency cold air, and several heavy-duty Ricoh copiers were in standby mode, emitting a faint smell of ozone and toner fermentation.
A QUICK market data terminal by the window was still powered on. On its pale green cathode ray tube screen, the dazzling final frame of yesterday's closing bell remained silently suspended—
Nikkei Average: 30,120 points
This dazzling string of figures, representing the insane paper wealth of all of Japan, glows faintly in the darkness.
But this had nothing to do with Nakajima, the audit supervisor on duty. He only felt that the flickering green light was making him feel uneasy.
Executive Director Endo stepped out of the private elevator at the end of the corridor.
He looked terrible tonight. His tie was loose, and his once meticulously combed hair was disheveled. He held a full cup of black coffee in his left hand and casually tucked an unmarked, plain brown paper file folder into his right.
As Endo passed by the workstation of Nakajima, the audit supervisor on duty, his pager suddenly emitted a series of extremely rapid vibrations and beeps.
Seemingly due to extreme exhaustion from working non-stop, coupled with this sudden shock, Endo's hand trembled violently.
The scalding black coffee overflowed from the cup, splashing directly onto the cuffs of his expensive custom-made suit and the back of his hand.
"Hiss—damn it!"
This usually composed and unflappable finance manager gasped in pain and uttered a rare curse.
He frantically tried to reach for his handkerchief, but both his hands were occupied.
In a moment of desperation, he roughly slammed the brown paper bag, along with half a cup of coffee, onto an empty desk opposite the central island.
Endo shook his scalded hand while pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and haphazardly wiping his cuffs. He glanced at Nakajima, his brows furrowed tightly, his voice filled with frustration and pain.
"Nakajima? You're still here?" Endo gritted his teeth. "Go to the break room and get me a wet towel, or some cold water and bring it to the restroom! Hurry up!"
After saying that, he didn't even bother to look at the pager that was beeping incessantly. He covered his swollen and red hand and rushed haphazardly toward the restroom at the end of the corridor.
The sound of leather shoes stepping on the anti-static carpet gradually faded into the distance, soon disappearing around the corner.
The office area fell silent again.
Nakajima sat in the swivel chair, his muscles gradually tensing up.
He glanced in the direction Endo had gone. Then he looked at the ordinary brown paper bag, forgotten on the table, with a few drops of coffee splattered on its edge.
It was so ordinary. It looked like a bag of scraps that had just been picked up from next to a shredder.
But this is something that Executive Director Endo always carries with him.
Could it be... some important document?
As a mid-level manager in the finance department, Nakajima earns a fairly generous monthly salary. However, last month he became addicted to pachinko at an underground casino in Shinjuku and racked up a debt with loan sharks that could bankrupt him.
A week ago, an intelligence broker from the Daiei Group approached him, offering a figure he couldn't refuse. The price was that he only needed to provide concrete proof about the Saionji family's financial chain.
He vaguely refused the other party at the time. Although the other party left their contact information, Nakajima didn't take it to heart because he felt that with his status, he certainly wouldn't have access to any important documents.
But... now it seems the opportunity has arrived...
Just once... After paying back the money... I will absolutely never touch those things again...
Nakajima's breathing became extremely heavy.
This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Don't you want to pay off those debts?
A voice inside him was shouting.
Even if it contains just ordinary invoices, it won't take more than a few seconds to glance at them, right?
As if possessed, he stood up, but his legs felt weak from extreme tension.
Instead of going to the break room, he strode to the desk, stretched out his sweaty hands, and untied the cotton thread wrapped around the file folder.
He pulled out the document. In the dim light of the emergency lamp, his eyes quickly scanned the paper.
Additional budget requests have been submitted for the deep-sea caisson construction project at Saienji Pagoda in Odaiba, which has resulted in budget overruns due to geological reasons.
Hokkaido's "Gokurakukan" sees its special heavy fuel consumption bill skyrocket after winter sets in...
Looking at the dizzying array of data on the paper, Nakajima's heart pounded wildly in his chest.
Having worked in the finance department for several years, he could tell at a glance that these documents bearing the Saionji family crest and anti-counterfeiting watermark were 100% genuine.
The group... is experiencing some cash flow problems? Is this what those people want?
He felt his vision blurring, but he forced himself to concentrate.
Never mind, they didn't specify what they wanted anyway, right? I'll just make a copy first.
He grabbed the file and, like a thief, hunched over and sprinted towards the Ricoh copier in the corner.
"Buzz—"
The dull thud of the machine starting up sounded like thunder in the darkness.
The scanning probe emits a blindingly bright white light, which, through the glass panel, copies every top-secret number on the paper.
Nakajima bit his lower lip hard, his eyes constantly darting towards the corridor. Cold sweat dripped from his chin onto the plastic casing of the photocopier.
"Faster...faster..."
He prayed desperately in his heart. If Endo got impatient and came back from the restroom, everything would be over.
Almost every second, he felt that Endo was about to walk out of the corridor.
It felt like centuries had passed before the three copies finally came out.
Nakajima grabbed the photocopy, folded it haphazardly, and roughly stuffed it into the inside pocket of his suit. Immediately afterward, he quickly shoved the original back into the coffee-stained brown paper bag, rewound the thread, and put it back in its original place.
He didn't even have time to catch his breath before rushing like a madman to the nearby tea room. He grabbed a white towel, roughly rinsed it under the cold tap, and wrung it out a couple of times.
Holding a wet towel, he stumbled and ran toward the bathroom.
I just ran to the corner of the corridor.
"Nakajima? How long are you going to get a towel!" Endo walked towards him, his face full of anger, shaking his swollen, red hand.
"Executive...Executive! Your cold towel!" Nakajima suddenly stopped and handed over the towel with both hands. His voice trembled violently from extreme tension and the frantic running he had just done.
Endo grabbed a wet towel and placed it on his scalded hand. He frowned and glanced at Nakajima's disheveled appearance, his forehead covered in sweat and his chest heaving violently.
"Alright." Endo waved his hand impatiently, walked past Nakajima toward the office area, "That's all for you. Go back and get some rest."
"Yes... Executive Director, take care." Nakajima bowed deeply.
A drop of cold sweat rolled down his nose and landed on the anti-static carpet.
Watching Endo finally disappear from sight, Nakajima slumped weakly into his chair.
It...it was a success?
Nakajima touched the copy through his suit jacket, his face still filled with disbelief.
Meanwhile, on the other side, the moment Endo left Nakajima's sight, the irritability and exhaustion on his face suddenly vanished.
He looked towards Nakajima through the wall.
"This can be considered a way to make use of waste. Hurry up and take the things to your master to claim credit."
The Saionji family was certainly aware that Nakajima was in private contact with Daiei's people.
Anyone in the management with even a slight position will be placed on the regular surveillance list by SIS (Saionji Intelligence). Their life trajectory, interpersonal relationships, financial status, and frequently visited places are all systematically processed, and a strict monitoring system has been established. Once an employee of the group exhibits abnormal behavior, such as taking on a huge debt like Nakajima, they will be placed on the key surveillance list.
The only reason Nakajima wasn't dealt with was because he still had value. After all, some intelligence seems more credible when it's bought at a high price, doesn't it?
"Perfect, once he finishes his report, we can send someone to handle it."
Endo muttered to himself as he applied a cold towel to his wound. The cold towel stung him, causing his face to contort slightly.
To make the scene look more realistic, he actually got burned.
"Hiss... By the way, can I report this to the young lady as a work injury?"
……
The next morning.
Chiyoda Ward. At the subway exit. The newsstand owner has just cut open the plastic strapping of bundles of morning newspapers. The strong smell of ink wafts in the cool morning breeze.
Countless trading company employees rushing to work tossed coins and grabbed copies of the Nikkei Asian Review.
When they saw the bold black text of the headline on the front page, their hurried steps slowed down in unison.
The Cost of a Spectacle: Is the Saionji Family's Financial Chain Under Pressure? Exclusive Disclosure of Huge Infrastructure Bills in Odaiba and Hokkaido
The article meticulously lists the astonishing data from those photocopies, ranging from the unit price of special impermeable concrete to the tons of heavy oil burned in the constant-temperature system.
The article contains no subjective denigration; it simply uses cold, hard numbers to depict a massive, asset-heavy beast that is frantically devouring cash flow.
Inside a corner café, several finance professionals in trench coats were huddled around a newspaper, discussing it in hushed tones.
"No wonder Saionji Construction has been frantically selling off those peripheral plots of land these past few days."
An analyst wearing glasses stirred his coffee, his tone carrying a sense of sudden realization.
"I initially thought they were planning to scale back their operations. Now it seems their cash flow has been completely locked up by these two oddities. To avoid borrowing high-interest loans from banks, they have no choice but to sell everything they own to fill that bottomless pit."
His colleague sitting across from him took a deep drag of his cigarette.
"Yes. The 500-meter giant tower in Odaiba, and that glass dome in Hokkaido. These inhumane projects burn through an immeasurable amount of money every day."
He flicked off his cigarette ash and let out a sigh.
"Although the Saionji family has a solid foundation and has made a lot of money in the past two years, this reckless expansion has ultimately become too much for them. This behemoth has finally run out of steam."
"I don't think they'll be undertaking any major projects during this period, do you believe me?"
Guided by some unknown "invisible hand," public opinion did not veer towards the extreme and irrational notion that "Saionji is going bankrupt." Instead, a more rational consensus emerged among the upper echelons of society and business elites—the Saionji family remains large, but they have reached the limits of expansion and are showing signs of fatigue.
……
The news broke at 10 a.m. on the same day.
The multi-functional press conference hall on the first floor of the headquarters of Saionji Industrial Co., Ltd.
The blinding flashes of the spotlight created a sea of white light.
Reporters from major mainstream media outlets packed the press conference hall to capacity. Long lenses and microphones were aimed at the long table on the stage.
Kudo, the head of the public relations department of the Saionji Group, was standing in front of the microphone, sweating profusely.
Because of the extremely strict "information black box" management implemented by the upper management, Kudo had no idea that this was a scheme personally orchestrated by Satsuki. In his mind, the group's top-secret financial data had indeed been stolen by an insider and sold to the media.
This is a serious security incident and a huge challenge to the capabilities of his public relations department.
Therefore, Kudo was truly extremely angry and anxious at this moment.
Damn it! I absolutely mustn't find out who did it!
However, as a senior executive carefully cultivated by the Saionji Group, he relied on his professionalism to suppress this emotion under his sharp dark suit.
He stood at the podium, his face still as calm as water.
"Dear media reporters," Kudo's remarkably calm voice echoed through the microphone, "the so-called 'exclusive disclosure' published this morning by the Nikkei is a malicious fabrication taken out of context. On behalf of the group, I solemnly declare that Saionji Corporation's current financial situation is extremely healthy, with ample cash flow sufficient to support all of the group's strategic plans."
The reporters in the audience started snapping photos even more frequently.
"Since your finances are so healthy, why did your group hold this press conference so urgently within just two hours of the news breaking?" A weekly magazine reporter stood up, his tone laced with undisguised sarcasm. "The newspaper figures are accurate to single digits. Mr. Kudo, could you please disclose your group's actual expenditures on the Odaiba project to prove your innocence?"
Kudo's eyes turned cold. The muscles in his jaw bulged slightly from the effort.
"The purpose of holding this press conference is, of course, to thoroughly clarify these baseless and malicious rumors as soon as possible. The reputation of the group must not be tarnished by such a deliberately fabricated farce."
"As for the actual expenditures of the Odaiba project, that is a trade secret and cannot be disclosed."
He stared at the reporter and gave an official rejection in a clear and articulate voice.
He then launched a real show of force.
"Regarding this malicious rumor-mongering incident, the group's security department arrested a former finance department employee early this morning who stole and altered trade secrets due to personal grudges. The individual has been transferred to the Metropolitan Police Department's Economic Crime Investigation Division."
Kudo picked up a legal document from the table and showed it to the media.
"At the same time, the legal department of the Saionji Group has officially sent lawyer's letters to the relevant media outlets. We will use all legal means to hold the rumor-mongers fully accountable."
The flashes reached another climax, creating a sea of white light.
Behind the blinding light, several seasoned journalists well-versed in business rules exchanged glances, their eyes revealing a tacit mockery.
In the minds of business elites, the most effective way for a truly powerful conglomerate to refute rumors is for its CFO to casually disclose a portion of its accounts.
The Saionji family's response at this moment—an emergency press conference, the overnight arrest of the mole, and the hasty sending of a lawyer's letter to silence dissent—seemed to be a show of forceful public relations, revealing to outsiders the Saionji Group's current weakness.
……
At the same time.
Akasaka Prince Hotel, Royal Suite, New Building.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, dressed in a dark gray custom-made suit, sat upright at the marble dining table.
He held a cup of black coffee in his hand. His gaze went beyond the rim of the cup, quietly watching the Saionji press conference being broadcast live on the television screen.
On the screen, Minister Kudo stood with his hands clasped together, his tone steady. He was attempting to use the strongest official language to reject the reporter's question.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi picked up his coffee and took a small sip. The bitter liquid slid down his throat.
He stared at the screen, his eyes slightly narrowed.
That's too stiff. If they were truly confident, they could have simply laughed off rumors of this magnitude. There was no need to rush to throw out an "insider" story, nor to hastily issue a lawyer's letter to suppress the news.
This seemingly impeccable toughness, on the contrary, appears to be a cover-up.
"This approach is far too crude."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi placed the coffee cup back on the bone china saucer and leaned back into the leather chair.
His fingers tapped lightly on the mahogany armrest, and his mind raced through the intense sense of incongruity.
Not right.
That Saionji Satsuki, how cunning she is in the Wall Street and real estate markets. If that little girl is truly in charge now, even if the finance department is rotten to the core and has a mole inside, the crisis will inevitably be resolved in a more elegant way, leaving no room for any evidence.
How could they possibly put on such a clumsy public relations performance, so eager to cover it up?
unless……
A knowing glint flashed in Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's deep eyes.
The Saionji Group is in complete chaos.
The terrifying drain on resources from those two money-burning machines in Odaiba and Hokkaido finally touched the sensitive nerves of the old guard within the family.
Faced with that bottomless infrastructure hole, the old Chinese family elders who clung to the bottom line of "zero debt" and valued face more than life itself must have, in extreme panic, forcibly overtook the underage "head of the family" and took over the situation.
Only those old-fashioned, conservative people would use such a rigid and inflexible approach to try to cover up the fact that their family's finances are tight.
"Shimada." Having reached this point in the deduction, Tsutsumi Yoshiaki stopped tapping his fingers. "Tell me about the information the group has gathered. What are the results?"
Secretary Shimada, who had been waiting by his side, immediately stepped forward and bowed slightly. He placed a folder containing a summary of general intelligence on the marble tabletop.
"Chairman, the information from all sides has been cross-checked." Shimada's voice was deep and clear.
"First, according to our informant at the real estate transaction hall, Saionji Construction did indeed aggressively sell off some of the marginal land in the first tier of developments a few days ago, with a tough stance, but clearly eager to cash out."
"Secondly, we verified through internal channels of Seibu's building materials and energy suppliers that the procurement volume of special concrete for the Odaiba deep-sea caisson and the heavy oil consumption for the Hokkaido Gokurakukan are basically consistent with the data leaked in today's morning paper. The error is no more than two percent."
Shimada turned a page of the document, revealing a secretly taken photograph. In the photo, a handcuffed man with a desperate expression was being led into a Metropolitan Police Department vehicle.
"Third. Information from within the Metropolitan Police Department indicates that Nakajima, who was arrested, is indeed a mid-level manager in Saionji's finance department. Furthermore, he owes a gambling debt of up to 40 million yen at an underground casino in Shinjuku."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi listened quietly. His gaze fell on the candid photograph, and his mind quickly pieced together the seemingly disparate fragments.
The frantic sell-off of marginal assets confirms their extreme thirst for cash flow.
The supplier's actual shipment data confirmed the terrifying, bottomless drain on resources in Odaiba and Hokkaido.
Add to that a desperate, real-life gambler mole.
All the independent intelligence reports fit together perfectly with the previous speculation, forming an unbreakable logical loop.
As expected. This predicament, leaking from all sides, could only have been the work of those old Chinese elites who had just taken over power and were scrambling to cope with modern finance. In order to fill the financial hole caused by those two wonders and to maintain that outdated "zero debt" bottom line, they could only cut away the outer pieces of meat one by one, like slicing a sausage.
A glint of certainty mixed with greed finally slowly appeared in Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's eyes.
Can the cash from those marginal land parcels really fill the deep-sea crater or warm the ice and snow of Hokkaido?
Impossible. The cost-consuming curve of heavy assets only ever rises exponentially. When the money from selling fragmented land runs out again, in order to maintain that decadent facade and keep those two money-burning machines running, they will inevitably be driven to desperation.
At that point, they will have to painfully relinquish their truly core, heavy assets.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood up and slowly walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the bustling city below. Sunlight fell on his shoulders, and he felt a sense of composure and satisfaction as the ultimate hunter.
Only he, the king of the real estate industry, who owns one-sixth of all the land in Japan, could afford such a monumental project thanks to his hard asset of land.
He turned around and looked at Shimada.
"How's the preparation of the funds I mentioned a few days ago going?"
"Chairman, the 100 billion yen bridge loan from Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank has been fully secured. The group's internal current accounts have also been consolidated at the highest level," Shimada reported respectfully, bowing his head. "They are ready to be used at any time."
"very good."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi walked back to his desk, his gaze falling on the map of Tokyo's core area on the edge of the surface. His eyes greedily lingered on the coordinates of the "Crystal Palace" in Ginza and the "Pink Building" in Akasaka.
He stretched out his right hand and gently rubbed the two spots with his fingertips, as if he had already grasped the two priceless buildings in his palm.
His chin was slightly raised, and a haughty smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
"Soon, the Saionji family will have to give up their first offering. And after that, there will only be more."
The lion king, who was surveying his territory, was sitting on a throne covered with velvet.
Patiently waiting, the prey respectfully placed the glass of sweet red wine laced with deadly poison on his table.