Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Insurance agents, dying alone, impoverished women, and being consumed by their families of origin.

Kitahara Iwao's next book is hailed as a social mystery masterpiece, "The Strongest Villainess of the Heisei Era." Its protagonist, Suzuki Yoko, starts as an insurance saleswoman and gradually descends into the abyss.

Unlike the pure malice of teenagers in "Confessions," this book shows the pain of adults who have to be skinned alive just to survive.

"Editor-in-Chief Sato".

Kitahara Iwa suddenly spoke, breaking the silence in the car.

Editor-in-Chief Sato, sitting in the front row, quickly turned around: "What's wrong, Kitahara-kun?"

Kitahara Iwao looked at the woman still bowing outside the window and said, "Could you please prepare some information about the dark side of the insurance industry for me, the more detailed the better? Also... a social investigation report on dying alone."

"Dying alone? Insurance scandal?"

Editor-in-Chief Sato was stunned. He realized he couldn't keep up with Kitahara Iwao's leaps of thought at all: "Your next book... are you planning to write a social documentary?"

"No."

Kitahara Iwa shook his head and said, "What I want to write is... a person who is constantly being devoured, trampled, and abandoned by the world."

"A story about how to tear apart all identities, abandon all conscience, and live for yourself from hell."

……

As the black Toyota Crown drove away from the apartment building, Kitahara Iwa went to his desk and sat down, spreading out a sheet of white manuscript paper. His fingertips hovered for a moment before he put pen to paper.

With clean and neat strokes, he wrote two words at the very top of the page—"Exquisite Scream."

This book is about a woman named Yoko Suzuki.

A woman born into an ordinary family, who was neglected, rejected, and had her self-esteem gradually eroded by her family of origin from a young age.

The story employs a dual narrative structure, beginning with a solitary death:

Upon entering the foyer, they saw a hallway connecting the toilet and bathroom, followed by an open kitchen, and then a Western-style bedroom of about eight tatami mats.

If it were cleaned properly, this house would be perfect for a single woman, but now it's like a dead sea.

The ground was covered with rotten, dried pieces of animal flesh, dead maggots and flies that had multiplied on the carrion but couldn't survive the winter, and a lot of animal hair was mixed in.

Several cat corpses were scattered around like isolated islands at sea, surrounded by even more insect corpses.

Immediately afterwards, Kitahara Iwao shifted his focus, using an extremely rare second-person (you) perspective to begin dissecting Suzuki Yoko's life:

Yoko Suzuki, an extremely mediocre woman.

She was born into an ordinary family with a mother who favored sons over daughters and exerted extreme mental control over her.

She grew up in an orderly fashion and worked an ordinary office lady job in Tokyo.

However, with the bursting of the economic bubble, her life began to spiral out of control:

Unemployment, debt, selling oneself... physical harm, domestic violence, social marginalization...

In order to survive, this woman, who once dared not even kill a chicken, learned to exploit human weaknesses.

Using the knowledge she gained at the insurance company, she began to climb the social ladder step by step, stepping over the corpses of men, through sham marriages, insurance fraud, and fabricated accidents.

If "Confessions" represents the evil of youth, then "Scream" represents the sin of adulthood.

Kitahara Iwa's pen moved faster and faster until the last stroke of the outline was completed, at which point he finally let out a long breath.

Looking at the dense text on the manuscript paper, Kitahara Iwa's lips curled into a complex smile.

Just then, the doorbell rang at the perfect moment.

Through the monitor screen, Kitahara Iwa saw editor Machida standing panting at the door, carrying a mountain of documents that almost buried him.

Clearly, Editor-in-Chief Sato's execution ability is terrifying.

The order had barely been given in the car when these valuable documents were delivered.

This is the privilege that comes with status.

If it were the previously unknown Kitahara Iwa, just collecting this internal data from the Metropolitan Police Department and the dark secrets of the insurance industry would have been incredibly difficult, requiring him to run himself ragged.

Now, all I have to do is say a few words to see it.

"Teacher Kitahara, this is the material the editor-in-chief asked me to send urgently!"

Upon opening the door, Machida, without even wiping his sweat, carefully and neatly placed the large stack of documents on the desk. Then, knowing better than to waste any more words, he quietly closed the door and left.

The room returned to silence.

Kitahara Iwao casually picked up a copy of the "Tokyo Metropolitan Medical Examiner's Office Annual Report," flipping through it while meticulously pondering in his mind.

The original version of "The Cry" spans an extremely long period, from the Showa era to the eve of the Reiwa era.

To write this story now in 1989, Kitahara Iwao would have to drastically alter the timeline.

"We must bring the story back to the present, or to the period of bubble bursting soon."

Kitahara Iwa made a heavy stroke on the timeline with the red pen in his hand.

Fortunately, reality is more magical than fiction.

According to the statistics provided by Machida, the term "dying alone" had already been frequently appearing in the corners of the news media as a sociological term as early as the early 80s.

Although Tokyo is currently immersed in the final frenzy of the bubble economy, rot has already been quietly brewing behind the glamorous city.

Data shows that since 1983, the number of unusual deaths in Tokyo has tripled.

In 1989, when people were waving 10,000-yuan bills everywhere, countless elderly people living alone and impoverished women from the bottom of society, abandoned by the times, were dying silently in those cheap apartments where they couldn't get any sunlight.

They are often not discovered for weeks or even months after their deaths, their bodies decomposing and unclaimed.

Having confirmed the authenticity of these brutal statistics, Kitahara Iwa no longer hesitated. As if transforming into a recorder, he picked up his pen and began to meticulously reconstruct the original timeline on the manuscript paper.

For the next three days, the luxury apartment felt like a secluded island, cut off from the world.

The curtains were drawn tightly, and the room was filled with a strong smell of tobacco and coffee.

Discarded manuscripts piled up like small mountains in the trash can, while the manuscripts on the desk were growing thicker at an alarming rate.

In order to accurately capture Yoko Suzuki's suffocating sense of despair, Iwao Kitahara almost completely severed all physical connections with the outside world.

During this time, only the occasional ringing of the telephone would break the silence.

If it weren't for Sachiko Kamachi's gentle greetings and Akina Nakamori's slightly complaining yet caring check-up calls that could still reach him, the outside world would have thought that this popular writer had vanished into thin air.

However, even in this frenzied creative state, Kitahara Iwao still maintains an astonishingly clear-headed commercial sense.

On the evening of the third day, Kitahara Iwa temporarily detached himself from the oppressive world of "The Scream," washed his face with cold water, and dialed Kadokawa Haruki's private number.

Since Shinchosha has tacitly agreed to loosen restrictions regarding the film adaptation of "Confessions," it's time to inform Haruki Kadokawa.

"Mr. Kadokawa, it's me."

On the other end of the phone, Haruki Kadokawa sounded extremely happy, clearly having been waiting for this call.

When Kitahara Iwatsu raised further questions about finalizing the contract details, Kadokawa Haruki displayed unprecedented ease and patience: "Hahahaha! Kitahara-kun, I knew you'd call! Have those old fogies from Shinchosha finally given in?"

"Okay! It's hard to explain over the phone. I've already booked the Tsuruya Ryotei in Akasaka for tomorrow night."

"Let's sip the finest sake and slowly discuss how to turn your 'Confessions' into a movie that will shake up all of Japan!"