Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 166 Eight Hundred Million Yen

Akina Nakamori wore a beige ladies' hat with a brim that reached above her eyebrows, along with a pair of large-framed sunglasses.

Even though most of her face was covered, you could still recognize her once radiant face from the exposed outline, but now it looked haggard.

"Excuse me—is Kitahara-sensei home?" Nakamori Akina paused for a moment, as if forcibly suppressing some kind of fluctuating emotion, before saying, "This is Nakamori Akina. I apologize for bothering you, but if it's not convenient right now, I'll leave immediately."

Through the somewhat distorted black and white screen, Izumi Sakai quietly watched the figure on the screen who was tightly wrapped up, with her head slightly lowered, and who exuded unease and anxiety.

She did not reply immediately and turned to walk towards the study.

The study door was ajar, and Kitahara Iwa was bent over, writing furiously on a manuscript paper.

Izumi Sakai gently knocked on the door frame twice and whispered to her supervisor, "Teacher Kitahara, Ms. Akina Nakamori rang the doorbell downstairs and wants to see you."

She paused slightly at this point.

Faced with the unexpected arrival of a popular actress who was at the center of a media storm, her sensitive nature inevitably stirred some emotions within her.

The fragile message on the answering machine that night is still vivid in my mind.

To get a clear picture of the situation, she spoke in a seemingly considerate tone, subtly probing: "She was bundled up tightly, as if she had deliberately avoided the media and came alone quietly. She looked very tired."

"I assumed you two were friends, and since she's dressed like this, she probably has something urgent to discuss with you—should I invite her up here for you?"

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa stopped writing and looked up.

He not only sensed the visitor's embarrassment outside the door, but also keenly caught the subtle, feminine probing in Izumi Sakai's words.

He and Akina Nakamori have always maintained a good friendship, so he is naturally aware of each other's personalities.

Akina Nakamori has always known how to advance and retreat with propriety, so her sudden breaking with routine and ringing the doorbell today must mean she has encountered some insurmountable difficulty.

After a brief moment of thought, Kitahara Iwa glanced at Sakai Izumi, who was standing calmly by the door.

If you refuse a friend's sudden request for help in order to avoid suspicion, this attempt to cover up the truth will only confirm the friend's subtle suspicions and cause the friend to have more unnecessary thoughts in their mind.

Having sorted out this situation, Kitahara Iwa gave a straightforward answer: "Let her come up. I'll finish up these few lines of writing. Go to the entrance to receive her and prepare some hot tea while you're at it."

Having received clear instructions, Izumi Sakai nodded slightly in agreement and turned to walk back to the entrance.

Meanwhile, in the lobby on the first floor.

Holding the walkie-talkie, Akina Nakamori felt the waiting time was exceptionally long.

There was no response from the other end of the communicator for a long time.

Her tense nerves relaxed slightly, and a sense of loss welled up in her heart. She secretly wondered if Mr. Kitahara was not at home at the moment.

Just as she lowered her eyes, preparing to put down the microphone and turn to leave—

"Click".

A soft, low electronic tone suddenly sounded, and the heavy glass door to the lobby downstairs unlocked.

It was Izumi Sakai, who had just walked back to the entrance, who pressed the open door button.

Immediately afterwards, an echo came from the communicator.

Nakamori Akina instinctively assumed that it would be Kitahara Iwao's familiar voice that would speak.

However, what reached her ears was a gentle and clear greeting: "Akina-san, please come up. Thirty-second floor."

The private elevator is on the left side of the lobby and provides direct access.

Upon hearing this response, Akina Nakamori, who was standing in the lobby, suddenly tightened her grip.

To her utter surprise, the communicator that should have belonged to Kitahara Iwa's apartment was actually transmitting a young woman's voice.

In an instant, a strong sense of astonishment spread throughout my body.

Then, Nakamori Akina subconsciously began searching her mind for someone who matched that voice.

Is it Yasuko Sawaguchi, who previously starred in the movie version of "Confessions" and became very close to Kitahara-sensei?

This conjecture had barely surfaced when she immediately dismissed it.

Yasuko Sawaguchi's voice has a distinctly bright quality, completely lacking this warm, clear, and soothing quality.

Just then, a fragment of a somewhat distant memory suddenly flashed into my mind.

She recalled reading an entertainment newspaper before, in which Mr. Kitahara had publicly praised and recommended a fledgling female singer at a book signing event.

The woman praised by the outside world for having a voice as clear as a spring, is Izumi Sakai.

No wonder the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Thinking of this, Akina Nakamori tried her best to suppress the immense shock and turbulent emotions in her heart, and said in a slightly trembling voice, "Okay, thank you."

The screen of the video intercom slowly dimmed, and Izumi Sakai stood quietly in the entryway for a moment.

The memory flashed through her mind of the night Kitahara-sensei returned to Tokyo from England, and the voicemail message with a faint static tone that came through the answering machine.

Although she was also a woman in the entertainment industry, she could understand to some extent the helplessness the other person felt under pressure. However, deep down, a doubt inevitably surfaced: What kind of changes had this popular actress, who was in the eye of the storm, encountered that made her choose to avoid all public attention and so abruptly visit Mr. Kitahara alone for help?

However, the gentle and dignified nature inherent in Yamato Nadeshiko quickly suppressed her desire to investigate.

Regardless of the secrets or embarrassment the person outside may be carrying, since they have lowered their guard and come to your door, out of the ingrained principles of hospitality, you should set aside all unnecessary speculations and treat them with proper and thoughtful manners.

With that thought in mind, Izumi Sakai put aside her thoughts and turned to walk into the kitchen.

Turn on the tap, fill the kettle with water and heat it, then take out the white porcelain tea set for entertaining guests from the cabinet.

While waiting for the water to boil, Izumi Sakai took out a tea canister and opened the tea leaves he had prepared to serve his distinguished guests.

As soon as tiny bubbles began to rise from the inside of the kettle, emitting a faint boiling sound, commotion could be heard in the hallway outside the door.

After the soft sound of the private elevator arriving, the sound of high heels clicking on the marble floor was exceptionally gentle.

The footsteps sounded hesitant and uncertain, clearly indicating that the person outside was carefully controlling their strength, afraid of disturbing the tranquility inside.

After a brief pause, the doorbell was gently rang.

Izumi Sakai walked through the living room to the entrance hall, smoothed the stray hairs behind her ear with her fingertips, and naturally opened the door.

The moment the door opened, Akina Nakamori outside was clearly stunned when she saw who was standing behind it.

She had expected Kitahara-sensei to greet her, but instead it was Sakai Izumi.

Caught off guard by Izumi Sakai's gentle gaze, she froze as if suddenly struck by lightning, her throat dry as she managed to squeeze out a weak voice: "S-Ms. Sakai—"

When their eyes met, Izumi Sakai immediately noticed the other person's terrible condition.

Akina Nakamori had taken off her hat, but was still wearing sunglasses, and was tightly clutching a dark brown leather file bag.

The file folder wasn't very big, but she used so much force that her knuckles turned white.

The temperature in Tokyo in early September had not yet completely cooled down, but at this moment, Akina Nakamori's forehead was covered with a fine layer of sweat.

This was a physiological tremor caused by long-term severe sleep deprivation and mental tension reaching a critical point; even the edge of the file bag pressed against her chest was trembling slightly.

Feeling Izumi Sakai's gaze, a wave of indescribable embarrassment washed over Akina Nakamori.

As a woman driven to the brink of collapse by reality and forced to abandon all dignity to seek help, she unexpectedly encountered a young woman she was meeting for the first time, which instinctively made her want to turn around and run away.

Sensing the other party's intention to back down and their uncontrollable trembling, out of basic hospitality, Izumi Sakai skipped the unnecessary pleasantries.

He took a half step forward, reached out, and grasped Akina Nakamori's wrist, which was tightly clutching the file bag.

This force, gentle yet possessing an undeniable composure, gently pulled the other person into the entryway.

"Ms. Akina, please come in."

Izumi Sakai closed the door behind her and said softly, "Come sit in the living room and rest for a while. The tea will be ready soon."

The moment she was pulled into the warm room, Akina Nakamori's emotions, which she had been holding back, finally showed signs of loosening.

At Kitahara Iwa's home, she slowly took off her large-framed sunglasses.

Those once bright and captivating eyes were now filled with fine blood vessels and dark circles that were hard to conceal.

Even with heavy foundation trying to cover it up, she still exudes a deep, weary feeling, as if she has nowhere else to turn.

Her eyes suddenly reddened, and a layer of moisture quickly welled up.

During the agonizing week that followed, both the relentless pressure from her family over the phone and the dismissive "industry norm" response from her agency executives when they passed the contract over, left Akina Nakamori feeling suffocated.

Until this moment, the door that had been opened for her offered no questions, no probing, and no suffocating concern.

It simply lay open quietly.

This decisiveness and silence became the only place she could catch her breath these past few days.

Then Akina Nakamori settled down in a corner of the sofa, carefully placing the leather document bag on her lap, her head slightly lowered, her fingertips unconsciously pressing against her forehead, trying to calm the still-unsettled palpitations and disordered breathing in her chest.

Sakai Izumi poured tea slowly in the kitchen, deliberately leaving a moment for Nakamori Akina, who was sitting outside, to calm herself down.

A moment later, she carried a cup of fine tea to the coffee table.

The hot tea was at just the right temperature, exuding a unique aroma reminiscent of fresh grass.

"Have some tea to soothe your throat first."

"Teacher Kitahara will be here soon."

Izumi Sakai spoke softly, placing the white porcelain teacup neatly in front of Akina, thus avoiding any probing questions about her privacy.

After putting down the tea, Izumi Sakai stepped back half a step and sat down properly on the single sofa to the side.

To avoid adding to Nakamori Akina's psychological burden, Sakai Izumi lowered her gaze slightly and quietly stood by her side.

This measured and silent companionship gave Akina Nakamori ample space to calm her emotions.

Upon hearing this, Akina Nakamori nodded, then picked up her teacup and took a sip.

The warm tea slid down her throat, slightly easing the frustration she felt from sitting alone in her apartment for days, facing the harsh contract.

The rapid breathing gradually calmed down.

Akina Nakamori raised her eyes and looked at Izumi Sakai, who was sitting quietly waiting to the side.

The other party's considerate silence perfectly preserved his precarious dignity.

So Nakamori Akina bowed slightly, silently lowering her head in the direction of Sakai Izumi, conveying her gratitude in this restrained gesture.

Just then, the sliding door to the study made a soft sound.

Kitahara Iwa pushed open the door and stepped out, his face still showing signs of fatigue from just being pulled away from intense writing.

Seeing Akina Nakamori sitting on the sofa, Iwao Kitahara nodded slightly.

Although there was that silent yet cross-boundary embrace between the two, an unspoken ambiguity still quietly simmered in the shadows.

But with Izumi Sakai right there, and Akina Nakamori arriving in a hurry, exhausted and troubled, Kitahara Iwao naturally wouldn't show any inappropriate intimacy at this moment.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Akina."

Upon hearing that familiar voice, Akina Nakamori suddenly stood up.

Their eyes met briefly in mid-air.

Akina Nakamori, who had managed to suppress her emotions, suddenly found herself unable to hold on any longer.

She remembered the hallway outside the apartment that night.

Masahiko Kondo pounded on the door frantically, hurling insults in a hoarse voice, filling the entire corridor with his out-of-control violence.

He huddled behind the door, barely daring to breathe.

Later, Kitahara Iwa stood in front of him.

At that time, Kitahara Iwa shielded himself from all the chaos and malice.

At that moment, she almost collapsed into his arms in a disheveled state.

She lacked dignity, the aura of an idol, and the strength expected of her behind the name Akina Nakamori.

She just clutched his clothes, like someone who had finally found a piece of driftwood, and wept uncontrollably.

And now, he stood before Kitahara Iwa once again.

Still in a sorry state, still nowhere to go, and even this time, he came with trouble.

Thinking of this, Akina Nakamori unconsciously clenched the hem of her clothes.

She tried to appear calm, but the more she tried, the hotter her eyes became.

She could barely keep up a facade in front of others.

But in front of this person who had seen her at her most broken, her carefully constructed composure seemed all the more fragile.

She lowered her head, using the act of bowing to avoid his gaze.

"Teacher Kitahara."

Akina Nakamori said softly, with a slightly hoarse voice, "I'm so sorry to bother you without prior appointment."

"It's alright, please have a seat."

Kitahara Iwa sat down on the single sofa on the other side.

The two were separated by a glass coffee table, not far apart, but not too close either.

This distance is respectable enough, and also allows Akina Nakamori to relax a little.

Izumi Sakai sat beside her without saying a word, simply pouring Nakamori Akina a cup of hot tea and gently pushing the cup towards her.

After doing all this, Izumi Sakai withdrew her hand, lowered her gaze, and left them the space to talk.

At this moment, Kitahara Iwa looked at Nakamori Akina.

It has to be said that she was in very poor condition today.

Her makeup was very light, but the fatigue under her eyes was still evident. Her fingers were tightly gripping the dark brown file bag on her lap, as if she would collapse if she loosened her grip even slightly.

"Akina-san."

Kitahara Iwa softened his voice and asked, "What happened?"

With just this simple question, Akina Nakamori's eyes reddened slightly.

She lowered her head and took a breath, as if trying to suppress her emotions again.

After a few seconds, he picked up the file bag from his arms and handed it to Kitahara Iwa with both hands.

"It's this one."

At this moment, Akina Nakamori spoke softly, her fingers twisting together on her knee, before finally saying, "Teacher Kitahara, my father wants me to use all my current savings, plus a bank loan and a second mortgage on my apartment, to buy a townhouse in Tokyo Bay. The total price—eight hundred million yen."

Upon hearing such an outrageous amount, Izumi Sakai, who had been sitting quietly to the side, couldn't help but show a hint of astonishment in her eyes.

Kitahara Iwa immediately sensed something was wrong.

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