Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 165 To see such a work in one's lifetime is worth going bankrupt for!

mid-September.

A full month has passed since that night at Ginrin-sou in Roppongi.

The outside world is sliding inch by inch into the abyss, following the trajectory predicted by Kitahara Iwa.

The Nikkei index continued its decline from 28,000 points in August, falling below 27,000 and 26,000 points, and even touching the psychological support level of 25,000 points during trading, triggering panic across the market.

In the sixth month since the Ministry of Finance implemented the "total financing regulation," local credit banks have begun to show signs of liquidity depletion.

In the Middle East, the surge in oil prices triggered by Iraq's invasion of Kuwait continues, with crude oil soaring from $21 to $36.

As a country that is completely dependent on energy imports, Japan's import price index, released in September, surged by 11.4 percent year-on-year.

The Bank of Japan just raised its discount rate to 6.0 percent at the end of August, and the heavy interest rates are strangling every highly leveraged loan.

In the evening economic news, the tone of the anchors has finally lost the fervor of the past year, and their wording has become more cautious.

However, this chill at the macro level has yet to penetrate into the daily lives of ordinary middle-class families.

The public still believed the reassurance from the bank branch manager that "this is just a technical adjustment," and continued to flock to the model apartments in droves, signing up for high-interest loans.

During this period, Kitahara Iwa completely cut off from the noise of the outside world.

For the past month, he has maintained a steady output of about 3,000 words per day, and apart from occasionally going downstairs to his usual coffee shop for some fresh air, he has hardly left the house.

That afternoon, the sky over Tokyo turned gloomy.

Thick clouds hung over the city, completely blocking out the sunlight and leaving only a hazy gray background on the glass windows.

Kitahara Iwa sat at his desk, heavily closed his pen, and turned the last page of the first draft.

A thick stack of manuscripts had already piled up on the table.

The title of the new book is prominently displayed on the top page—"The Collapsing Tower".

At this moment, Kitahara Iwa did not get up to make tea as usual, but simply leaned back in his chair and sat quietly at his desk for a long time.

After finalizing this first draft, he felt an unprecedented sense of heaviness.

Kitahara Iwa was well aware that this subject matter was completely different from the past.

Previous works, no matter how profound the sins and sorrows they explored, ultimately remained within the realm of fictional literature.

But this book is about a country that is shaking violently, yet remains blindly confident that it will never collapse.

The novel's blade cuts straight through the veins of society, its edge aimed at the decision-makers of Kasumigaseki, the financial center of Nihonbashi, the greedy bank bureaucrats, and the ordinary people who were completely numbed by the false prosperity of the bubble era.

Even more fatally, the illegal lending chains deduced in the book are tantamount to tearing off the very fabric of Tibet Province and the entire financial system.

Kitahara Iwa could fully foresee that once the book was published, it would inevitably provoke a fierce backlash from vested interest groups.

From being forced to recall and destroy the book on the first day of release, to major bookstores removing it from shelves under administrative pressure, and even facing a complete ban from the publishing industry, these are all unavoidable real risks.

If Kitahara Iwa's current status in the Japanese literary world were not so illustrious, his reputation would have already reached its zenith.

If an ordinary writer had written this kind of text in 1990, a time of national fervor, the manuscript would have been quietly suppressed during the initial review stage by the publisher and would never have had the chance to see the light of day.

But Kitahara Iwa's current reputation in the literary world, the title of "literary giant" bestowed upon him by the outside world, and the fame he has built with a series of best-selling works have become his most solid moat.

This gave him leverage to directly confront vested interests.

It takes immense resolve to smash this boulder into the water.

Kitahara Iwao withdrew his gaze from the manuscript, reached for the phone on the table, and dialed Sato Kenichi's number.

After only two rings, a slightly surprised voice came through the receiver: "Teacher Kitahara?"

Kitahara Iwao spoke up directly, saying, "Mr. Sato, I've conceived a new book, and the outline and the first draft are complete."

The other end of the phone went silent instantly.

Immediately afterwards, Kenichi Sato's breathing became noticeably rapid.

"The first draft is already out?"

Sato Ken unconsciously repeated himself, his voice deliberately lowered, but he couldn't hide the sudden surge of excitement as he said, "Are you free now? I'll come visit you right away."

"Let's go straight to the coffee shop downstairs from my apartment. I'll take my things down."

Kitahara Iwao decisively set the location.

After hanging up the phone, Kitahara Iwa made a copy of the original manuscript on the table, then carefully tidied it up, put it into a large brown paper bag, and then pushed open the door and went out.

Half an hour later.

Kenichi Sato hurriedly pushed open the glass door of the coffee shop downstairs from his apartment building.

He was in a hurry, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, and the knot of his tie was slightly crooked.

Upon spotting Kitahara Iwa sitting by the window, the senior editor immediately slowed down, quickly straightened his clothes, and then steadily walked over.

"Teacher Kitahara."

Kenichi Sato pulled out a chair and sat down.

After the waiter brought him a cup of black coffee, his gaze was fixed on the thick brown paper bag next to Kitahara Iwa, his eyes burning with the fervor of discovering an unknown treasure.

Kitahara Iwa sensed the other person's urgency and simply pushed the paper bag over.

"The outline and the first drafts of the first few chapters are all here."

Kenichi Sato solemnly accepted the book with both hands, his movements very gentle, as if afraid of wrinkling the inner pages.

"Has the book title been decided?"

"The Collapsed Tower".

Kenichi Sato muttered the name to himself, then untied the paper bag and pulled out the story outline from the top.

Initially, Kenichi Sato maintained the scrutinizing habits of a professional editor, quickly assessing the plot's pacing and market potential in his mind.

However, as his gaze followed the words downwards, his expression gradually froze, his eyes fixed on the paper, and the tips of his fingers, gripping the edge of the manuscript, turned slightly white from the force.

Ten minutes later, he flipped to the character relationship chart.

Twenty minutes later, glaring keywords such as "external blood transfusion institutions", "double mortgage" and "90% loan" came into view one after another.

Half an hour later, the color in his face had clearly faded considerably.

When he saw the last few pages of the outline, Ken Sato subconsciously looked up and glanced around.

Two or three customers were chatting by the window, someone was reading a newspaper in the corner, and a young female clerk was wiping water glasses by the cashier.

The atmosphere inside the store was peaceful.

But Kenichi Sato's back was already covered in a layer of cold sweat.

This thin sheet of paper is clearly an accusation that could overturn the entire financial order of Nihonbashi.

After a long while, Editor-in-Chief Sato slowly put down the outline, pulled out the first drafts of the first few chapters, and continued reading.

Then he turned the pages slower and slower, and his expression became more and more solemn.

Kitahara Iwa didn't urge him, but picked up his coffee and waited quietly.

Outside the window, cars streamed by, and Tokyo maintained its bustling appearance.

High-rise buildings, neon lights, bank signs, and real estate companies are intertwined, while office workers in suits hurry along the street.

But in Sato Ken's eyes after reading the first draft, this seemingly glamorous facade had been completely torn apart, exposing the massive, crumbling, and riddled-with-holes deception beneath.

After a long while, Kenichi Sato finally closed the copy, reached for the rim of the cup, paused for a moment, and then withdrew his hand.

"Teacher Kitahara."

At this moment, Kenichi Sato's voice became completely somber.

Kitahara Iwa looked at him: "How are you feeling?"

Kenichi Sato was silent for a few seconds before speaking in a hoarse voice, "The content is impeccable."

After saying this, he showed no sign of relief; instead, he wearily rubbed his temples.

"But this is too dangerous to write."

Kitahara Iwa said softly, "Tell me more."

Kenichi Sato looked up at Iwao Kitahara, his expression complex, and said, "Once this book is released, it will definitely cause a huge stir among readers and critics. But what's truly fatal is that you're pointing your knife at an entire vast and interconnected system of interests."

At this point, Kenichi Sato lowered his voice to a very low hue and said, "The Kasumigaseki Association believes that you are exposing the secrets of the Ministry of Finance, and the Nihonbashi Association sees it as an open provocation against the banking system."

"Real estate companies, financial institutions, GG merchants, along with the TV stations and newspapers they are associated with, will all be involved."

Kitahara Iwa listened quietly.

Kenichi Sato continued his analysis: "The suppression by administrative power is often covert. The methods commonly used by the authorities are nothing more than pressuring bookstores to reduce their stock, cutting off media coverage, issuing gag orders to critics, and withdrawing all publicity resources, gradually forcing publishers to compromise."

He stared at the brown paper bag on the table, his Adam's apple bobbing: "Teacher Kitahara, there's more to this than meets the eye."

Kitahara Iwatsu picked up his coffee, took a sip, and continued, "That's why I called you here immediately."

Kenichi Sato was slightly taken aback.

Kitahara Iwao looked at the editor-in-chief opposite him and asked softly, "Mr. Sato, does Shinchosha have the guts to take it on?"

Faced with this straightforward question, Kenichi Sato fell into a long silence.

As a publisher who has spent most of his life in this field, a deep-seated, almost greedy, desire surges within him.

This is Kitahara Iwa's first major work after establishing himself as a literary master, directly addressing the critical issues of the era.

Once it is published, it will transcend the boundaries of popular literature and become the most significant historical archive of the early Heisei era.

As long as it bears the Shinchosha logo, this book is enough to be the pinnacle of his entire editing career.

However, reason was pulling hard on his nerves.

The risk is far too high.

By accepting this manuscript, Shinchosha will face the invisible crushing force of the entire vested interest system.

Perhaps tomorrow, the printing factory that has been cooperating for many years will refuse to accept orders under the pretext of equipment maintenance; perhaps next week, the prime display spaces of major bookstores will be forcibly removed from all of Shinchosha's publications; and even the company's daily operating funds will be suddenly cut off by the bank with the tacit cooperation of some high-level executives.

This has long exceeded the boundaries of literary publishing; it's a high-stakes gamble that threatens the very life of a century-old publishing house.

Kenichi Sato's hands were clasped tightly under the table, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the excessive force.

He frantically weighed in his mind the glory that would go down in history, and the devastating blow that would come with it.

Future prospects, reputation, the survival of the company, and the writer's hard work are all violently swaying on both sides of the scale.

After a long while, Editor-in-Chief Sato slowly released his grip, exhaled deeply, and said, "Teacher Kitahara."

At this moment, Kenichi Sato's voice was dry and hoarse as he said, "This book concerns the life and death of Shinchosha, and I really cannot make a decision on my own."

Kitahara Iwa looked at the traces of struggle remaining on the other person's face and nodded slightly to show his understanding.

Then Kenichi Sato pressed his hands against the brown paper bag and said, "I must take the manuscript back to Shinchosha and report it to President Murata in person."

"Go."

Kitahara Iwa agreed readily.

Kenichi Sato stared down at the brown paper bag, feeling as if it were filled with heavy gunpowder. He then stood up and bowed slightly, saying, "I will give you a clear answer by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Kitahara Iwa indicated that he didn't need to be so tense: "There's plenty of time, let's discuss it slowly."

Kenichi Sato shook his head decisively.

"A manuscript that is powerful enough to shake up an era is a desecration to keep locked in a drawer for even one more day."

After saying this, Kenichi Sato turned around and pushed open the door of the coffee shop.

Kitahara Iwa sat there, quietly watching the editor-in-chief's hurried departure. The sky outside had unknowingly become even darker.

Kenichi Sato, carrying a brown paper bag, got into a taxi and headed straight back to Shinchosha.

He barely spoke the entire way.

The driver glanced at him a few times in the rearview mirror, assuming that the passenger had encountered some serious trouble.

Kenichi Sato kept his hands pressed tightly against the paper bag on his knees, as if it contained a spark that could ignite the entire financial system.

Upon returning to Shinchosha, Kenichi Sato went straight upstairs and knocked on Taro Murata's office door.

Murata Taro was looking at a sales report when Sato Kenichi rushed in. He looked up and asked, "So urgent?"

Kenichi Sato skipped all the pleasantries and placed the brown paper bag directly on his desk: "President, this is the outline and first draft of Kitahara-sensei's new book."

Upon hearing this, Murata Taro stopped writing.

Even on his usually impassive face, a hint of barely concealed emotion flashed across his face.

Everyone at Shinchosha is well aware of Kitahara Iwa's current importance.

His name has long transcended mere sales guarantees; he is arguably the most crucial trump card for the entire Shincho Publishing House in the literary arena.

With that in mind, Murata Taro put down the report, untied the paper bag, and took out the outline first.

Kenichi Sato sat at his desk, waiting quietly.

Only the faint sound of turning pages remained in the office.

Murata Taro read very slowly.

Compared to Sato's tense demeanor, the president appeared remarkably composed, but when he turned to the middle section, his fingers lingered on the edge of the page for quite some time.

After reviewing the outline, he pulled out the first draft and continued reading.

This observation lasted for more than two hours.

The sky outside the window changed from overcast to completely dark.

The secretary knocked on the door once in the middle of the meeting, trying to remind the president that there was another meeting in the evening, but Murata Taro raised his hand to signal him to cancel it.

It wasn't until the office lights came on that Taro Murata finally closed the last page of his manuscript.

He raised his hand to take off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and slowly said, "This time, Professor Kitahara intends to completely overturn the unspoken rules of Nihonbashi."

Sato Kenichi nodded and echoed in a serious tone, "Kasumigaseki will definitely put pressure on us."

"That will be a furious and torrential revenge."

Murata Taro leaned back in his chair, his fingertips slowly tracing the edge of the manuscript as he said, "The Ministry of Finance, the banking system, real estate giants, plus external financial institutions—in these first eight thin chapters, Kitahara-sensei has thoroughly unearthed the underlying financial chains that maintain the superficial prosperity of this country."

At this point, Murata Taro shook his head and continued, "Teacher Kitahara's analysis is spot on. He explained the logic behind illegal lending and the maneuvering tactics of shell companies very clearly. It's so accurate that even those high-ranking bureaucrats can't pretend to be ignorant."

Kenichi Sato took a deep breath, his voice growing heavier, and said, "That's why I felt the risk was too great."

"Once published, this fire will inevitably burn back at Shinchosha first. Cutting off publicity resources and implying that bookshelves will remove it from shelves are just the prelude."

"In the end, government agencies might come to audit the accounts, or banks might suddenly freeze the company's working capital. We will be facing a covert strangulation by the entire interest group."

As soon as he finished speaking, the office fell into a deathly silence.

Murata Taro stared at the stack of drafts on the table, remaining silent for a long time.

He is first and foremost the helmsman of a century-old publishing house, and only secondly a publisher.

To gamble the fate of an entire corporation on publishing a novel, to confront the power centers that control the nation's destiny—the price behind this is simply too heavy.

If we are not careful, the century-old foundation of Shinchosha could be destroyed in an instant.

The air seemed to solidify, pressing heavily on their hearts.

After a long while, Murata Taro took off his glasses, slowly wiped the lenses, and then put them back on.

These slightly aged eyes revealed a sharpness and decisiveness that came from the shedding of all deliberation.

"Sato, our Shinchosha has been around for over a hundred years, and what's ingrained in our bones has always been the confidence to fight to the death."

Murata Taro reached out and pressed down on the draft, his fingers applying slight pressure, and said, "Seeking profit and avoiding harm is, of course, a businessman's instinct."

Murata Taro's voice wasn't loud, but Sato Kenichi heard it very clearly.

"But we're not just a paper seller after all."

At this point, Murata Taro glanced down at the copy on the table, a hint of almost absurd emotion appearing in his eyes.

"Sato, I've been in publishing for so many years. I've seen bestsellers, award-winning works, and many so-called masterpieces that were praised to the skies by critics but were forgotten a few years later."

"But how many times in a lifetime can you encounter an original manuscript that can be so deeply embedded in the very fabric of an era?"

Kenichi Sato fell silent.

Murata Taro suddenly smiled and continued, "To put it bluntly, even if Shinchosha is bankrupted by Kasumigaseki and Nihonbashi because of this, I, as the president, will not have served in vain if I can personally bring such a book to market in my lifetime."

This sounds like a joke.

But Kenichi Sato felt a slight warmth rise to his back as he listened.

Because he knew that Murata Taro was not acting on impulse.

The old man sitting in the president's seat truly saw the stack of manuscripts on the table as an opportunity that could be written into the history of Shinchosha.

Kenichi Sato's heart skipped a beat, his fingers slowly tightened, and he reported in a deep voice, "When Kitahara-sensei handed me the manuscript, he only asked one question—he asked Shinchosha if they dared to take it on."

Murata Taro composed himself and stared intently at the thick stack of manuscripts on the table.

"When we encounter such a heavyweight work that can be directly nailed into history, and when we encounter an author like Kitahara-sensei who dares to dissect the sores of the times, if we push it away because we are afraid of resistance, then the century-old reputation of Shinchosha will be completely ruined in our hands."

He raised his head, met Sato's gaze, and decisively said without hesitation: "Go and reply to Kitahara-sensei, Shincho-sha has accepted the offer."

Murata Taro pressed his palm heavily on the manuscript, his tone calm and resolute: "Push this book to the market. Shinchosha will handle all the backlash and pressure from the outside world."

With the president's resounding promise, Kenichi Sato, who had been anxious for so long, finally felt completely relieved.

Following this, Taro Murata finalized the subsequent strategy: "The internal publicity strategy must be completely adjusted. The distribution, legal, and public relations departments should get involved in advance and prepare contingency plans to deal with administrative pressure."

He paused, then said in a very serious tone, "As for Kitahara-sensei's schedule, go and ask him about his wishes in person."

"If he agrees, Shincho Publishing can cancel all those unimportant social engagements, interviews, and cocktail parties for him."

"We want him to know that the publisher will handle all external noise until the final manuscript is submitted. The publisher will do everything in its power to ensure his peace and quiet."

Kenichi Sato nodded solemnly in agreement.

Murata Taro's gaze returned to the stack of photocopies.

The light shone on the edges of the thick pages, giving them a slightly cold and hard texture.

"When this book is finally on the shelves of bookstores, I reckon there will be quite a few people in Kasumigaseki and Nihonbashi who won't be able to sit still."

As Editor-in-Chief Sato walked out of the president's office, this long closed-door conversation came to an end.

The following morning, Kenichi Sato informed Iwata Kitahara of Shinchosha's decision in person.

After receiving Kitahara Iwa's nod of approval, Shinchosha forcefully shut out all the dinner invitations, media appearances, and overseas negotiations that came pouring in.

Kitahara Iwao's study returned to tranquility.

In such an environment of absolute focus, the days flew by, and before we knew it, it was September 20th.

2:46 PM.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading diagonally across the wool carpet in the living room.

Inside the study, Kitahara Iwa was writing Chapter Eleven.

This is a core subplot: a veteran employee in the audit department of Dongdu Bank accidentally discovers a huge financial loophole in an external funding institution, attempts to report it to a higher level, but is quietly marginalized internally.

This subplot will officially intersect with Toshio Kurosawa's main storyline in Chapter Sixteen.

For most of the past month, Izumi Sakai has been staying in this apartment.

As a newcomer who had just officially debuted in 1900, she sang "Don't Give Up" and "Goodbye My Love" in succession.

The promotion and release of the two singles, "Loneliness," are now on track.

The workload was slightly lighter than last month, so she maintained a frequency of coming over every two or three days.

Throughout this time, Izumi Sakai remained quiet, silently helping to manage the mundane daily tasks in the apartment.

She would go to familiar shops to replenish coffee beans, clean the old fountain pen that Kitahara Iwa always forgot on the corner of the table, and go to the balcony to fill the food bowl with cat food and give the little white cat a bowl of clean water.

As for the piles of scattered draft papers on the edge of her desk, she would carefully straighten them out according to chapter order.

While doing these things, she always kept a sense of propriety, naturally avoiding looking at the specific content on the draft.

That afternoon, Izumi Sakai was sitting at the dining table smoothing out a few pages of discarded manuscript when the electronic doorbell in the entryway suddenly rang.

The 32nd floor has always been quiet.

If it's a property management visit or if Editor-in-Chief Sato comes over, they usually call ahead to let us know.

Thinking of this, Izumi Sakai stopped what she was doing, got up, walked to the door, and turned on the screen of the video intercom.

In the footage, the camera in the lobby on the first floor captured a slightly thin figure.

The person who came was wearing a beige long trench coat with the brim of the hood pulled low, and most of his face was covered by the collar.

But even from just the lower half of her face and overall silhouette, Izumi Sakai recognized her at a glance—it was Akina Nakamori!

After confirming the visitor's identity, a hint of surprise flashed in Izumi Sakai's eyes.

Izumi Sakai had a deep impression of her.

The day Kitahara-sensei returned to Tokyo from England, the answering machine in her apartment played a message from this female singer.

Therefore, Izumi Sakai was also aware that Iwao Kitahara and Akina Nakamori were friends who kept in touch privately.

To her surprise, this public figure, who is currently a regular in the media headlines, would dress up in a carefully disguised manner and sneak in to avoid everyone's sight.

Looking at the figure on the screen that clearly showed fatigue and anxiety, Izumi Sakai keenly sensed that the other party's sudden visit must have been due to some urgent matter.

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