Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 70 A Perfect Answer! (Fourth Update!)

The Yomiuri Shimbun reporter's questions were extremely pointed, instantly shifting everyone's attention from money to the eye of the biggest media storm of the night.

An arrogant newcomer blatantly disregarded the Naoki Prize for commercial gain.

If this serious accusation were to be publicly leveled, it would be enough to ensure that any newcomer in the Japanese literary world, where seniority and dignity are highly valued, would never have a peaceful day again.

At that moment, countless flashes and broadcast cameras were instantly aimed at Kitahara Iwao's face.

Viewers across Japan instinctively held their breath at that moment.

Inside a luxury apartment in the port area.

Akina Nakamori, who had initially only been curious, instinctively gripped the blanket on the edge of the sofa the moment she heard this malicious question.

As someone who has been constantly besieged by the media and even recently driven to the brink of despair by public opinion, she knows all too well how insidious such preconceived and psychologically damaging questions can be.

If you answer even one wrong word, or even just show the slightest hint of annoyance, you'll be torn to shreds by those bloodthirsty entertainment headlines the next day.

"Don't get angry—and absolutely do not argue back—"

Akina Nakamori stared intently at the young figure surrounded by spotlights on the screen, a deep worry flashing in her eyes.

She has seen too many geniuses fall from grace in this arena of fame and fortune because of a single inappropriate word.

Meanwhile, in a rented room in Tokyo.

Sachiko Kamachi's heart jumped into her throat instantly.

She unconsciously hugged the book "Confession" tightly, her eyes filled with heartache.

"Kitahara-kun----"

She knows her friend all too well.

In everyday interactions, Kitahara Iwa is always a gentle and polite person, not the kind of person who likes to be arrogant or speak outrageously.

But Sachiko Kamachi also knew that beneath this gentle and refined exterior lay an absolutely inviolable bottom line.

Kitahara Iwa never provokes trouble, but when faced with malicious attacks, he will absolutely retaliate without hesitation, delivering the most ferocious counterattack.

But this time is different from the past.

Kitahara Iwa is now facing not one or two difficult acquaintances, but three hundred of the top media outlets in Japan, the most adept at taking things out of context!

In the face of these ruthless, uncrowned kings, even if Kitahara Iwa only showed a hint of retaliatory sharpness, it could be magnified into a scandal.

Thinking of this, Sachiko Kamachi gripped the hem of her clothes tightly, held her breath, and dared not even breathe loudly, for fear of missing any scene on the television.

However, facing hundreds of eager eyes below the stage, waiting for breaking news, Kitahara Iwa remained calm and composed.

He showed no anger at being offended, nor did he feign arrogance; he simply adjusted the microphone calmly.

"My friend, your assumption is incorrect. This has never been a black-and-white question, and there is no question of contempt."

Kitahara Iwao said calmly, "The Naoki Prize is the highest honor in Japanese popular literature, and I have always had great respect for the senior members of the judging committee."

"But the vitality of a literary work should not merely be confined to waiting for an award to crown it."

Kitahara Iwao looked down at the audience, his tone conveying a convincing power: "Confessions is about the collapse and desolation deep within people's hearts in this era."

"I wrote it down in the hope that it could become a real scalpel to cut open the most hidden ailments of society."

"Literary awards can prove the sharpness of this knife."

"But a national-level film that has been poured into the utmost effort can pierce the hearts of millions of ordinary people who may never have ever been to a bookstore, and awaken more reflection in this era."

"President Kadokawa provided the largest operating table for this knife."

"So I'm sitting here right now not to protest anything, but simply to let more people see 'A Message to Self'."

That's all.

There was a two-second silence, followed by an uncontrollable gasp and even more frantic clicking of camera shutters.

This answer is absolutely perfect!

Kitahara Iwa not only expressed his respect for the jury in a tactful manner and deftly defused the trap set by the reporter, but also instantly elevated the ideological level of the film adaptation of "Confessions" to a heart-stirring level of social responsibility.

Compared to Kitahara Iwao's speech, which was full of social responsibility, the paparazzi's mindset, which was simply focused on literary feuds, suddenly seemed incredibly narrow-minded.

After hearing Kitahara Iwao's words, Kadokawa Haruki could no longer hide the smile in his eyes.

He pulled the microphone back in front of him, and the spotlight swept across the eager eyes of the audience, pushing the suspense of the evening to its climax.

"As Kitahara-kun said, this is a scalpel that cuts open the lesions of society."

"To wield this sword perfectly, we need someone like Yuko Moriguchi who can completely abandon her past image and bring madness and tranquility to their extremes."

Haruki Kadokawa's voice suddenly rose: "When the lights in the hall weren't on just now, I heard many names on the stage."

Haruki Kadokawa paused deliberately for half a second, looking at the reporters below the stage with their ears perked up, and said with a mocking smile, "But unfortunately, you are all wrong."

"Next, please welcome the only female lead of 'Confession' to the stage."

As Haruki Kadokawa's resounding words faded, the breaths of the more than 300 reporters in the vast Flying Banquet Hall seemed to be gripped tightly by an invisible hand, completely halting their breathing.

Squeak—yah—

The double oak doors on the side of the Flying Hall opened slowly, led by two waiters wearing white gloves.

At the same time, a high-powered white spotlight above the hall suddenly shone directly onto the entrance.

In the center of the pillar of light, a stunningly beautiful figure gracefully emerged.

The moment the reporter saw who it was, the pupils of all the reporters in the room widened in shock.

She wore a pure white lace dress that represented the first love of the entire nation of Japan, and her long, smooth, black hair fell naturally over her shoulders without any exaggerated styling.

Under hundreds of extremely bright flashes, Yasuko Sawaguchi wore the healing smile that had appeared in countless morning dramas, charity events, and New Year's posters.

When this top beauty, hailed as the last beauty of the Showa era and the Toho Princess, stood in such an extremely holy posture in front of the huge curtain with the words "Confession" written in blood red, the entire Flying Banquet Hall seemed to have all its oxygen sucked out in an instant.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

A full three seconds of absolute vacuum!

The hundreds of seasoned reporters and photographers were all frozen in a state of utter astonishment and mental blankness.

An elderly reporter from Weekly Bunshun in the front row stared wide-eyed, and the hardcover notebook in his hand, filled with countless gossips, slipped from his fingers with a thud and fell heavily onto the carpet.

Then, the brief silence was utterly shattered by a volcanic eruption of fervor!

The reporters, once they realized what was happening, went completely crazy.

Nearly three hundred people, like zombies unleashed from their cages, desperately pushed forward, carrying heavy rifles and cannons.

The temporary barriers erected at the front of the venue were severely deformed by the frenzied crowd in an instant, emitting a sickening metallic twisting sound.

In the chaos, someone knocked over the champagne tower, and amidst the crashing sound of shattering glass, a barrage of questions rained down on the stage like bullets: "Ms. Sawaguchi! Are you kidding me?! You're a saint in all of Japan, how could you play a vengeful demon like Moriguchi Yuko?!"

"Did Kadokawa Pictures use contractual traps to coerce you?"

"Has Toho gone mad? Casting you in such a dark and morbid role is tantamount to destroying the image of a pure and innocent nation!"

"How can you face the teenagers who look up to you?"

"This character is not only cruel, but will also corrupt children all over Japan! Please resign immediately!"

The frantic questioning grew louder and louder, even taking on the connotation of moral judgment.

The reporters' eyes gleamed with a bloodthirsty light. To them, the drama of a pure and innocent girl falling into the clutches of a demon was a hundred times more exciting than any Best Actress winning an award.