Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

The next day.

Kadokawa Pictures headquarters, president's office.

The huge crystal ashtray was crammed with the remains of stubbed-out Cuban cigars.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, so strong it seemed ready to spontaneously combust.

The artist director of Toho Entertainment glared angrily at Kadokawa Haruki in front of him, while the two top legal counsels behind him were on high alert.

"President Kadokawa! This is utterly absurd kidnapping!"

The director of Toho's agency was trembling as he said, "Yasuko Sawaguchi is our cash cow, a symbol of purity in the hearts of all Japanese people! How could you secretly let her audition for a perverted murderer who poisoned students' milk?!"

"This will not only unilaterally ruin more than a dozen of her top commercial endorsements, but it could even cause Dongbao's stock to plummet when the market opens tomorrow!"

"We now demand that the audition agreement be cancelled on the spot!"

Faced with the aggressive questioning from Toho's top management, Kadokawa Haruki, sitting in his large boss's chair, merely flicked off his cigarette ash, a cold and contemptuous smile curving his lips.

He didn't argue, but simply opened the drawer.

Then he took out a signed check with only the amount left blank, and a thick publicity plan, and placed it on the table.

"If there is any damage to commercial value, no matter how many endorsements Yasuko Sawaguchi loses, I, Haruki Kadokawa, will compensate her for the same amount with this check."

Amidst the astonished gazes of everyone at Toho, this tyrant, who spanned both the publishing and film industries, slowly stood up.

He placed his hands on the large mahogany desk, like a lion surveying its territory, and looked down at the Toho executives opposite him, saying, "Not only that, as compensation..."

"Starting next month, all of Kadokawa Group's top fashion magazines and film and television weekly magazines—including the annual cover of The Television—will be open to artists under Toho."

Haruki Kadokawa's voice wasn't loud, but every word struck a nerve with the Toho team: "You Toho have so many newcomers desperately needing to rise to the top, isn't what you lack precisely exposure across all channels?"

"With these resources, you could create ten or even a hundred new pure and innocent beauties!"

"And then shut up completely about Yasuko Sawaguchi."

"If you don't agree..."

Haruki Kadokawa's eyes suddenly turned cold, revealing an undeniable threat of a blacklist: "Starting tomorrow, no artist from Toho will be allowed even the smallest space in any Kadokawa publication!"

The alternating barrage of threats and rewards quickly and decisively strangled the director of Toho's talent agency.

The director, who was arrogant just a moment ago, now had beads of cold sweat on his forehead.

He stared intently at the blank check on the table, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

At this moment, he was frantically calculating the gains and losses in his mind: Yasuko Sawaguchi herself was now determined to act. If he forcibly took her back, it would not only force this leading lady to strike and break ties, but also completely offend the madman in front of him who controlled half of the Japanese media.

Conversely, Kadokawa Haruki's "omnichannel resource sharing" offer was so generous that Toho's board of directors had nothing to say.

Under the triple pressure of this astronomical exchange of interests, the suffocating threat of a media blackout, and the actor's desperate personal will, the director exchanged a deathly glance with his colleagues behind him, and in the end could only grit his teeth and swallow his pride, lowering his head in humiliation and choosing to compromise.

Accompanied by the scratching sound of pens on paper, Kadokawa Pictures deployed its top-tier legal team to issue a strict media silence order:

Before the official press conference, anyone at Toho, even at a private dinner party, who dared to reveal even half a line about Yasuko Sawaguchi's appearance in the confession, would not only face a cash breach of contract amounting to hundreds of millions of yen, but would also be immediately subjected to indiscriminate suppression by the Kadokawa Group in the entire Japanese media industry.

In stark contrast to the cutthroat competition and money-grubbing atmosphere in Kadokawa's offices.

The clamor from the outside world is burning fiercely.

The entire Japanese media went crazy over the choice of the female lead for "Confessions." Paparazzi staked out the apartment buildings of top actresses day and night, and major television stations turned "Who is Yuko Moriguchi?" into a nationwide frenzy, with the hype reaching a fever pitch.

However, Kitahara Iwa is currently writing in his luxury apartment.

After the audition was finalized, Kitahara Iwa ruthlessly dumped all the tedious preparation, makeup, and location scouting work onto Kadokawa Haruki and Ichikawa Kun.

In his room, Kitahara Iwao, like a hermit monk living in seclusion, completely immersed himself in the world of poverty, lonely death, and insurance money murder depicted in "The Cry."

rustling...

The sound of the pen scratching on the manuscript paper became the only noise in the room.

"Ring ring ring—"

Just as Kitahara Iwao was writing about the crucial moment when Yoko, the female protagonist of "The Scream," had completely fallen into depravity and was preparing to carry out her first murder plan, the dedicated line in the study suddenly rang.

On the other end of the phone, Sato, the editor-in-chief of Shinchosha, sounded tense, as if the final battle was approaching: "Teacher Kitahara, tomorrow night is the final selection for the 101st Naoki Prize."

"According to literary custom, the nominated writers are required to wait that evening in a private box at the Imperial Hotel or a traditional restaurant, along with the editors, for the final call from the judging panel..."

"Do you think I should have someone book a suite at the Imperial Hotel right now?"

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa held the phone receiver between his shoulder and shoulder, his gaze still fixed on the manuscript paper on the table.

"Don't waste your energy, Sato-san."

Kitahara Iwa's tone was as calm as a still, deep pool, even carrying a hint of knowing mockery: "Didn't we already reach a consensus?"

"The chances of 'Confessions' winning a major award are zero. Since we already know the result, why should we go to the hotel and play along with their hypocritical act of waiting for their favor?"

"But... this has always been the rule and tradition of the literary world. Even if you know you can't get it, you still have to save face..."

"Furthermore, the Imperial Hotel will be gathering many other potential authors and publishing professionals that evening. Professor Kitahara, you can go and network with them as well..."

As a traditional publisher, Editor-in-Chief Sato still had some concerns and tried to persuade him earnestly over the phone.

There was a brief two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

The scratching sound of the pen tip rubbing against the special manuscript paper came to an abrupt end.

Kitahara Iwa stopped writing "The Last Cry" and said, "Since there are other colleagues here, I'll go to the hotel this time."

"Then I'll trouble Sato-san to arrange the suite."

Meanwhile, at Kadokawa Pictures headquarters, in the top-floor president's office.

"Drip—drip—sizzle…"

In the dimly lit room, the silence was suddenly broken by the dedicated encrypted fax machine in the corner.

Accompanied by the grating sound of mechanical gears meshing, a fax document bearing the double watermarks of "Top Secret" and "Unlocked Tomorrow Night" slowly emerged from the exit.

Haruki Kadokawa walked over, holding a glass of whiskey on the rocks, stepping onto the carpet.

People only know him as a mad movie tyrant, but they often overlook a more chilling fact.

He was also the uncrowned king who controlled Japan's vast publishing empire.

In this industry where money is made from information asymmetry, he had already laid down some spies with real money in printing plants, large distributors' terminals, and even the editors' offices of major established newspapers throughout Japan.

Haruki Kadokawa held a wine glass in one hand and tore off the fax document, which he had just intercepted and which was still warm from printing, with the other.

At first, his gaze swept over it casually.

But the next second, the ice cubes in the glass made a crisp clinking sound, and Kadokawa Haruki's eyes immediately turned cold, a fierce glint appearing in his eyes.

This is not an ordinary news scoop, but a press release that has been formatted and even the accompanying photos have been carefully selected.

The above content is a sarcastic press release prepared in advance by the self-proclaimed highbrow literary veterans of the Kyoto School, who secretly colluded with more than a dozen traditional literary journals and the arts and literature sections of mainstream newspapers in preparation for the final selection of the Naoki Prize tomorrow night.

"Commerce Cannot Hijack the Soul of Literature—A Review of Confession's Rejection"

The Limits of Sensationalism: A Frenzy Lacking Substance

Kitahara Iwa: The Biggest Commercial Bubble in the Heisei Literary World

This is an extremely insidious series of deadly moves.

The Kyoto faction's plan was crystal clear: once the Naoki Prize winner was announced, these press releases would flood the streets and alleys of Japan like snowflakes the next morning.

They want to use the humiliation of losing the official election to completely nail Kitahara Iwa to the pillar of shame as a vulgar nouveau riche, destroy his rising literary reputation in one fell swoop, and incidentally suppress the momentum of the "Confessions" movie version.

"Hehe... Hahahaha..."

After reading this vicious press release, Haruki Kadokawa not only did not panic, but instead raised his head and let out a cold laugh.

Then, Haruki Kadokawa crumpled the manuscript into a ball and casually tossed it into the wastebasket, his eyes gleaming with the bloodthirsty light of a business tyrant.

"Confessions is about to start filming, and I'm planning to make a fortune from it."

"These old bones who can barely type anymore actually dare to jump out at this critical juncture and block my path to wealth, engaging in a media war with me?"

"They're simply asking for trouble."

Haruki Kadokawa turned around, grabbed the landline on the table, and dialed the internal line for the publicity department.

"Notify all top media outlets in Japan that tomorrow—the night the Naoki Prize results are announced—Kadokawa Pictures will hold a top-level press conference for the female lead of the film 'Confessions'."

After hanging up the phone, a ruthless glint flashed in Haruki Kadokawa's eyes.

"I'll show those old fogies that in the face of absolute buzz and explosive news, their rotten, tattered newspapers aren't even worthy of being used as tablecloths!"