Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

"reject?"

As Kitahara Iwa finished speaking, the air in the private room instantly froze.

Haruki Kadokawa's hand, holding a cigar, froze in mid-air.

In that instant, a cold glint flashed in the eyes of this tyrant of the Kadokawa Kingdom.

He never imagined that in this day and age, there would be young people who would dare to refuse him to his face.

Who am I?

It's Haruki Kadokawa.

He is the man who single-handedly created box office legends such as "Human Proof", "Sengoku Self-Defense Force", and "Sailor Suit and Machine Gun".

He was the savior who turned the stagnant Japanese film industry upside down.

He is the god-maker who, with just a flick of his finger, could have Kitahara Iwa's name printed on every GG sign in Tokyo tomorrow.

Now, this young man, who has been in the industry for less than a year, actually dares to say no?

As Haruki Kadokawa's attitude changed, a powerful aura of authority gradually emanated from him.

However, Kitahara Iwa, who was at the center of the storm, seemed completely unaware. He calmly put down his chopsticks, first gently wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and then raised his head to quietly meet Kadokawa Haruki's aggressive gaze.

"Mr. Kadokawa, your suggestion is indeed a shortcut to wealth."

Kitahara Iwao replied in a neither humble nor arrogant voice, "But before answering you, I would like to ask you a question first."

"explain."

Haruki Kadokawa exhaled a puff of smoke and uttered only one word.

In Japan, what kind of writer qualifies as a literary master?

Upon hearing this, Haruki Kadokawa was momentarily stunned.

He originally thought Kitahara Iwa would talk about money, conditions, or make excuses.

But he never expected that Kitahara Iwa would pose such a... both grand and somewhat pedantic question.

Before Kadokawa Haruki could answer, Kitahara Iwao answered himself: "It's Natsume Soseki, it's Dazai Osamu, it's Kawabata Yasunari."

"Their books are all printed with the logos of established publishers like Shinchosha and Iwanami Shoten, and are displayed in the most prominent positions in bookstores, where they are read and studied by generations of people."

Kitahara Iwao looked directly at Kadokawa Haruki and continued, "Your Kadokawa Bunko is truly amazing; it sells books like Coca-Cola."

"But if I may be so bold, Mr. Kadokawa."

"If I went to Kadokawa, I might become the richest writer in all of Japan, but I would never become a literary giant."

"In the eyes of the public, I am at best just a celebrity writer packaged by a commercial assembly line to reap box office profits."

"What I want is not this kind of popularity that is as dazzling as a bubble but so fragile."

"What I want is... that even a thousand years after my death, people will still be reading my books and remembering my name."

This is not arrogance, but rather Kitahara Iwa's most genuine inner monologue.

Six months ago, when Kitahara Iwa woke up in this unfamiliar era and received the five million yen prize money from Shinchosha, he actually hesitated.

As a time traveler with memories of the future, if his only purpose was to live or enjoy life, he wouldn't need to painstakingly write.

All you need to do is wait like a hibernating bear until 1990, on the eve of the bursting of Japan's bubble economy, exchange the yen for dollars, and then short the stock market.

The wealth that came overnight was enough for him to squander for several lifetimes like an Arab prince.

But so what?

What's the difference between this and not having transmigrated at all? It's just that there's one more wealthy person living in anonymity in this world.

An ancient saying goes: "A man who lives will not eat from five tripods, but will be cooked in five tripods after death."

Kitahara Iwa didn't have any wicked tastes that would leave him infamous for eternity, so all that was left for him was to be remembered in history.

Of course, it would be even better if one could make up for some unpleasant things from their past life during this time.

As Kitahara Iwa finished speaking, Kadokawa Haruki narrowed his eyes, the disdain in them disappearing and replaced by scrutiny.

"Giving up real benefits for empty fame?"

"Kitahara-kun, I don't think you're that kind of old-fashioned person."

"Of course not entirely."

Kitahara Iwa poured himself a glass of wine, his tone softening slightly: "There's another reason, it's selfish."

"When I was still an unknown newcomer, it was Shinchosha that gave the top prize in the Japan Fantasy Awards to 'Ring'."

"Mr. Kadokawa, you've also worked your way up in this industry, you should know the rules."

"If I were to switch sides for money before they betray me, would you really dare to cooperate with such an untrustworthy person?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire private room fell into a brief silence.

Haruki Kadokawa stared at Kitahara Iwao, the cigar in his hand burning silently.

He was a madman, but he was also a person who highly admired the spirit of chivalry.

In the business world, which is full of betrayal and scheming, this kind of clear and honest integrity is an extremely rare quality.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Suddenly, Haruki Kadokawa burst into a hearty laugh.

Unlike his previous maniacal laughter, this time it carried a hint of respect.

"Good! Well said!"

Haruki Kadokawa slapped his thigh: "If you had agreed to switch jobs right away for the money, I would have looked down on you. Since it's for the sake of the literary giant's ambition and integrity, then I have nothing to say."

"It seems I won't be able to poach you from Shinchosha."

Haruki Kadokawa raised his glass, this time offering a sincere toast: "You're a man of guts, Kitahara-kun."

After downing a glass of wine, Haruki Kadokawa changed the subject, his fox-like eyes lighting up again: "Since you won't give me the person, how about the movie?"

"The film adaptation rights for 'Confessions' shouldn't involve the writer's feelings, right?"

"Give it to me, and the promise of 10 billion in box office revenue still stands."

Faced with this blatant second attack, Kitahara Iwao neither directly refused as before, nor immediately agreed. Instead, he gave a watertight answer: "Mr. Kadokawa, regarding the film adaptation rights... to be honest, you are probably the only one in all of Japan who can handle the current popularity of 'Confessions'."

At this point, Kitahara Iwa said with an inviolable sense of boundaries, "However, precisely because this matter is of great importance, I must first inform Shincho-sha."

"After all, they published the book. If I sold the film rights to it without even saying hello, that would break the rules."

This is obviously just an excuse.

But for Kitahara Iwa, this was a move he had no choice but to make.

This isn't just about money.

In the Japanese publishing industry of that era, seniority was an invisible yet tangible ironclad rule.

In the minds of the old-school editors at Shincho Publishing House, the literary world was a pyramid, and writers were ranked.

As a newcomer, you should act like one. Your task is simply to focus on writing. As for copyright development, marketing strategies, and even the right to speak about your own work, these are not things you should worry about.

Rather, it is a privilege that publishers can only decide based on decades of experience.

Even though "Confessions" has sold a million copies, in the eyes of some old fogies, Kitahara Iwao is just a lucky new author who has written two books.

If we don't bring back Kadokawa Haruki's exorbitant offer that's enough to break industry rules...

Those old folks still clinging to their old dreams will never understand that Kitahara Iwa is no longer a bestselling new author, but a piece of gold that could be snatched away by rivals at any moment.