I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 48 Jealousy
Hiroshi Nohara is not a naive college student. He sees through this kind of recruitment very clearly.

It is the other party's tentative recruitment.

If I defected, I might indeed be able to gain some resources at first, but who says that as a betrayer, I would be appreciated by the other side?

You have to know that in Japanese culture, betrayers are looked down upon.

This verbal promise has no legal effect at all.

It is very likely that in the end, you will be eaten up, all the information in your brain will be emptied out, and then you will be given someone else's name and used as a wedding dress for others.

Therefore, Hiroshi Nohara scoffed at this kind of recruitment.

Back at the Tokyo TV production headquarters building, Hiroshi Nohara continued to work on the production of "An Shibaju Season 2".

I was busy until the afternoon.

"call!"

Hiroshi Nohara stretched and felt thirsty, so he left the classroom and went to the public tea room in the production department.

This is a rare oasis within this high-speed steel behemoth, a place where one can take a breath. There are no rigid hierarchies or intense performance pressures, only the lingering mist and the gentle aroma of black tea.

The key is that black tea is free.

It is an employee benefit.

Hiroshi Nohara skillfully took out a clean bone china cup from the cabinet, tore open a tea bag of black tea, poured hot water into it, and the amber tea soup spread in the cup like a small warm sunset.

He was just about to find a corner to stay quiet for a while when a voice that sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember the name, sounded from behind him.

"Nohara-kun, right?"

Nohara Hiroshi turned around.

A middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt and black-framed glasses was holding a cup of coffee with a sincere smile on his face that was a mixture of curiosity and appreciation.

He recognized the face; it seemed to be a Level 3 director from the next classroom. He had seen him a few times in the corridor and they were just nodding acquaintances.

"Hello, Section Chief Sato." Nohara Hiroshi nodded slightly, and his memory showed its due role at this moment.

"Haha, you still remember me." The director, known as Sato, was clearly a little surprised, his smile growing even more earnest. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I just wanted to tell you that my whole family is following your film, 'An Zhi Ju.' Especially my middle school-aged daughter. She's now a big fan of yours and even said...she no longer dares to go to the school music room alone at night."

As soon as he said this, it was as if a magical switch was turned on.

Several employees who were originally chatting quietly in their respective corners all gathered together like iron filings attracted by a magnet.

"Section Chief Sato is right! Nohara-kun, the concept of 'Paper' is pure genius! Several female assistants in our classroom are now so scared that they have to avoid it when they see paper jams in the copier!"

"I think the episode 'Contradiction' is the best. It's pure logical horror, that's the real high-level gameplay. I spent the whole night thinking about it, but I still can't figure out which one is the real ghost, the one outside the door or the one on the phone."

"Mr. Nohara, how did you come up with these stories? Have you really... seen those things?"

For a while, the small tea room became Nohara Hiroshi's personal fan meeting.

These directors and planners who are usually independent in their respective fields are now like a group of curious students, surrounding him and exploring the mysteries of the mysterious world called "fear".

Nohara Hiroshi just listened quietly with a gentle and polite smile on his face, and occasionally responded to the questions with a few humble words such as "These are just some useless ideas" and "You are too kind."

He was like the eye of the storm that he had created himself. No matter how noisy the world around him was, he remained unmoved.

His calmness and composure beyond his age gradually gave a hint of genuine respect to the seniors who were originally just curious.

No one dislikes such a humble and capable young man.

Just in this lively crowd, Hashijitaro and Minamimura Hoshiya walked in with cups in their hands.

Seeing Nohara Hiroshi surrounded by the crowd like a moon surrounded by stars, Minamimura Xing's young face was instantly filled with undisguised envy and admiration.

"Wow... Mr. Nohara is really a big star in our station now." He lowered his voice and sighed to Hashijitaro beside him: "I really envy his talent. I wish I could create works like him one day."

His words were very casual.

But it was like an invisible tiny needle, gently but precisely piercing Hashijita's heart.

The knuckles of Hashijitarou's hand, which was holding the teacup, turned slightly white due to the force.

He looked at the figure surrounded by the crowd, who was nearly ten years younger than him, and at the generous praise on the faces of those seniors, a nameless fire of jealousy burned quietly in his chest.

He thought of himself.

Thinking back to how I followed Section Chief Suzuki, from Kanto TV to this Tokyo TV headquarters, working diligently and conscientiously, spending countless sleepless nights and drawing countless storyboards with tireless dedication. But what was the result?

His application for promotion to Level 3 Director was mercilessly rejected. In the classroom, he was still just an executive director, a... assistant.

And how long has this young man named Hiroshi Nohara been here?
With just a tricky "slide" with a crude style like a child's graffiti, and just a few sensational ghost stories, he rose to fame overnight and became a "genius" in everyone's eyes, and became a celebrity that even Deputy Director Ming Rihai asked to meet.

Even Section Chief Suzuki, whom he had followed for so many years, now looked at the young man with eyes filled with admiration and reliance that he had never seen before.

Why?
In Hashijita Ichiro's heart, the nameless fire burned more and more vigorously.

He doesn't think "Anzhiju" is that great.

It's just a novel idea, but in terms of production and visuals, it's simply amateur level.

I participated in the production, the coloring, the editing, which one didn't have my own hard work? But in the end, all the credit, all the halo, fell on the head of that young man alone.

He and the entire classroom became stepping stones to the top of the mountain.

Hashijita gritted his teeth.

This realization was like a blunt, poisoned knife, slowly cutting back and forth in his heart, bringing bursts of sharp pain.

He picked up the teacup, hoping to use the warm liquid to extinguish the evil fire, but the tea only turned into a deeper bitterness when it entered his throat.

Just then, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.

It's Kojima, the assistant in Iwata's classroom next door.

Kojima was standing at the door of the tea room. He didn't come in, but just gave him a subtle look, then nodded slightly with his chin towards the secluded corridor next to him.

Hashijitachi's brows furrowed slightly.

He and Kojima had an okay relationship, not quite friends, but because their classrooms were next to each other, they would occasionally eat lunch together at the convenience store downstairs and chat about trivial matters.

He thought about it and put down the teacup.

Perhaps, he wanted to escape for a while from that bustling circle that made him feel suffocated.

He said to Minamimura Hoshi, who was still looking at Nohara Hiroshi with envy, "I'm going out to smoke a cigarette," and then walked out of the tea room calmly.

He followed Xiaodao and turned into the fire escape that was rarely used by people.

At the end of the corridor is a conference room that has been vacant for many years and used as a storage room.

The door was ajar.

"What do you want from me?" Hashijitaro looked at Kojima with a flat tone.

Kojima didn't answer, but just showed a strange smile on his face, then pushed open the door and made a "please" gesture to him.

"Why are you so mysterious?" A trace of inexplicable uneasiness flashed through Hashijitaro's heart.

But he went in anyway.

There was no light in the room, the light was dim, and the air was filled with the smell of stale dust.

Then, he saw it.

In the deepest shadows of the room, a figure was slowly standing up from a chair.

The man was wearing a well-tailored suit and had a sinister smile on his face, like the tongue of a poisonous snake.

It's Masao Iwata.

"Hashimoto-kun."

Masao Iwata's voice rang out in this closed, dimly lit room, with a creepy stickiness.

"Let's... talk."

Hashijitaro looked at his face which looked more and more distorted in the shadow, and felt his back instantly soaked with a layer of cold sweat.

He subconsciously wanted to turn around and leave, but found that the door behind him had been gently closed by Xiaodao at some point.

There was a crisp, decisive "click".

It was like a cage with the final bolt down.

(End of this chapter)