Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 71 Yasuko Sawaguchi's Answer (Fifth Update!)

The barrage of questions was like a barrage of artillery fire, with some reporters in the front row even spitting angrily.

The atmosphere in the entire Flying Hall has now been completely distorted from a movie premiere into a public trial of the fallen saint.

Faced with such a fierce backlash from public opinion that carried a strong element of moral blackmail, even the usually arrogant Haruki Kadokawa's expression darkened slightly, revealing a hint of seriousness.

As a financial tycoon with a deep understanding of media operations, he knew all too well how terrifying the backlash against a national idol's downfall could be.

Once this nationwide outcry gets completely out of control, even the hundreds of millions of yen invested in the early stages could be instantly devoured by the anger of the entire Japanese people, leaving not a trace.

Looking at the group of reporters who were practically tearing down the riot control barrier and acting like hungry wolves smelling blood, even Kadokawa Haruki, who was usually audacious and adept at manipulating public opinion, couldn't help but twitch his eyes slightly. A rare sense of annoyance and apprehension arose in his heart.

He suddenly realized that he had gone too far tonight.

While summoning 300 Japanese media outlets in one go could create an overwhelming matrix and crush the propaganda offensive launched by those old men from the Kyoto faction tomorrow, he also seriously underestimated the impact of the phrase "the national saint's fall" on Japanese society.

The situation is now slipping out of his control.

This is no longer a one-sided effort to create momentum; it could easily backfire and even drag the entire Kadokawa Pictures company down with it if not handled carefully.

Thinking of this, Kadokawa Haruki frowned and subtly shifted his body towards Kitahara Iwao, quickly asking in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Kitahara-kun, the situation is getting a little out of control."

"Could you prepare some words to help her smooth things over?"

The reason Kadokawa Haruki immediately asked Kitahara Iwao was because Kitahara Iwao had just delivered a perfect answer, which could even be described as a superior performance, when faced with similarly malicious questions from the media.

Therefore, when this extreme situation of the entire audience going berserk occurred, this arrogant financial tycoon subconsciously turned his trusting gaze to Kitahara Iwa beside him.

Haruki Kadokawa stared intently at the group of reporters below the stage, who were like wolves and tigers, and continued, "If there aren't any, I'll immediately arrange for people inside to ask questions and forcefully bring the pace back onto my track."

Faced with Kadokawa Haruki's question, Kitahara Iwao remained calm, nodded slightly, and replied in a low voice, "Don't worry, I have a way."

After saying that, Kitahara Iwa raised his hand to the microphone in front of him, preparing to adjust the angle and stand up to shield the nation's first love, who was being condemned by everyone, from the barrage of moral criticism.

However, just a second before Kitahara Iwa was about to speak—

A fair but slightly trembling hand suddenly reached out and took the microphone ahead of time.

Kitahara Iwa turned his head in surprise.

Yasuko Sawaguchi, who was at the very center of the storm, slowly raised her head.

Those eyes, once considered the clearest and most innocent in all of Japan, now lacked the ingratiating gentleness of those in morning dramas, instead gleaming with an almost resolute flame.

She met Kitahara Iwa's gaze and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

That look seemed to say: "Thank you, Kitahara-sensei."

But this time, please let me do it myself.

Yasuko Sawaguchi sat there quietly, her gaze sweeping over the reporters who had been shouting the loudest earlier, and said softly, "Thank you all for your continued love for the warm and bright characters I've played. I cherish them just as much as you do."

Yasuko Sawaguchi's voice remained gentle, even carrying a hint of sincere gratitude.

But the next second, she changed the subject, her tone revealing an undeniable and resolute strength that clearly resonated throughout the venue: "However, the real world is not just sunshine and laughter; it is also full of unspeakable pain and abyss."

Looking at the bewildered faces below the stage, Yasuko Sawaguchi's eyes grew clearer and sharper as she said, "If the national image that everyone expects" requires me to forever turn a blind eye to the dark side of reality and only convey to the public an illusion that is forever beautiful and forever free of sadness—"

"Then I think this is a cruel deception for those who are truly experiencing despair and pain in reality."

Upon hearing this, the reporters in the front row, who were preparing to continue their attack, seemed to have been gripped by an invisible hand and instantly fell silent.

The sharp moral judgments just now seemed pale and powerless in the face of this gentle yet highly realistic declaration.

Yasuko Sawaguchi didn't pause; her eyes grew even clearer and sharper: "I think true purity isn't about covering your eyes and pretending you can't see the darkness, but about choosing to remain clear-headed even after seeing the abyss."

"In Confessions, Yuko Moriguchi is not the cold-blooded demon who induces crime as everyone says. She is first and foremost a mother who has been cruelly stripped of all hope and is in utter despair."

Yasuko Sawaguchi stared directly at the flickering camera, declaring her transformation word by word: "If I were to avoid touching the realities of humanity and refuse to interpret this profound pain simply because I'm afraid of shattering the beautiful image people have of me—"

"Then I will forever fail to live up to the mission that the word 'actor' carries."

Facing hundreds of shocked eyes below the stage, Yasuko Sawaguchi took a deep breath and, in a soft yet resounding tone, completed the most important leap in her acting career: "So, the executives at Toho are not crazy. They gave me the greatest understanding and courage. I was absolutely not forced by anyone. All of this was a choice I made after careful consideration."

"I am still, and always will be, proud to be Toho's Cinderella."

"But that doesn't mean I can only stay in the beautiful fairy tale forever. Cinderella will one day have to leave the safe castle and face the real and cruel world."

"I stand here today to prove to everyone that from now on, I can not only embody sunshine, but also bear the weight of life."

"I want to become an actor who can truly face the world head-on."

As Yasuko Sawaguchi's resounding words fell, a brief silence descended upon the once bustling Flying Hall.

The numerous reporters present were stunned and stood there, exchanging bewildered glances.

Faced with this declaration, which was both insightful and frankly almost impeccable, they were momentarily speechless, unable to find any point of rebuttal.

However, these seasoned media professionals will not give up so easily.

After their tactic of moral blackmail completely failed, the group of bloodthirsty reporters, as if they had smelled blood, quickly adjusted their formation.

They immediately turned their guns on Princess Dongbo, mercilessly targeting her most fatal weakness: her acting skills.

A veteran entertainment reporter abruptly stood up, his tone dripping with undisguised sarcasm and disdain: "Ms. Sawaguchi, we all know you are Toho's most perfect 'Cinderella,' and Japan's first love."

"But in this heavy work by director Ichikawa and teacher Kitahara, what's needed isn't just a puppet that can only show a healing smile!"

He paused, then pressed on aggressively, "Do you really think that your flowery, vase-like acting skills, which you're so adept at in morning dramas, are enough to handle a complex, psychologically twisted avenger like Yuko Moriguchi?"

As soon as these words were spoken, a buzz of whispers immediately arose from the audience.

Most of the media personnel present nodded to each other, their eyes filled with mockery.

In their eyes, this sensational press conference that swept across Japan was nothing more than a vulgar commercial hype orchestrated by Haruki Kadokawa to attract attention and create a gimmick of contrast.

As for Yasuko Sawaguchi's acting skills?

Nobody had even the slightest hope.

Despite this sharp provocation, Yasuko Sawaguchi showed no sign of being angered or embarrassed.

She raised her head slightly, her eyes resolute, and said, "As an actress, if I were to forever hide comfortably under the protective guise of innocence, enjoying applause that requires no acting skills, that would be the greatest deception of the audience."

Then, Yasuko Sawaguchi took a deep breath, her clear voice echoing in the hall: "I'm here today not to continue showing you that smile we're all tired of seeing, but rather—"

"To tear it apart with my own hands."

Then, without giving the reporter a chance to refute, Yasuko Sawaguchi's expression vanished completely in an instant.

There were no exaggerated facial contortions, nor any explosive screams.

She simply lowered her eyes slightly, and when she looked up at the live camera directly in front of her again, her pupils were devoid of any warmth, leaving only a deathly stillness like a dry well in late autumn.

A sense of oppressive revenge, beneath the surface of calm, quickly spread throughout the hall.

Although Yasuko Sawaguchi sat upright with her hands naturally folded on her knees, her posture resembled that of an elegant teacher.

But at this moment, the way she looked at the camera was no longer directed at the audience, but rather at a group of experimental subjects who had already been sentenced to death and were lifeless.

Then Yasuko Sawaguchi began to speak calmly.

His voice was still that gentle, soothing tone familiar throughout Japan, but because it lacked any inflection, it exuded a chilling aura that seeped into one's bones: "Students, I have one last thing to say about today's graduation ceremony."

She paused, her tone carrying a teacher's characteristic concern, which sent a chill down everyone's spine: "Did everyone finish the milk that was handed out earlier?"

The vast Flying Hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The breaths of the three hundred reporters seemed to be squeezed tightly by an invisible hand.

Yasuko Sawaguchi's expression remained as calm as an ancient pool, but she leaned forward slightly, her eyes revealing an almost sacred cruelty.

Facing the camera, in the calmest of tones, she softly uttered the chilling truth: "I added the blood drawn this morning to both of their milk."

After speaking, Yasuko Sawaguchi looked ahead, maintaining a polite but stiff smile.

This coldness, stripped away from extreme gentleness, is like a scalpel, gently slicing across the hearts of viewers in front of their televisions.

Seeing this, the reporters who had been so aggressive just moments before, trying to find a breakthrough in the acting, now stood frozen in place.

Their pens stopped abruptly after making a jarring sound as they scratched across the paper. Their eyes bulged slightly with extreme astonishment as they stared intently at Yasuko Sawaguchi on the stage, who was smiling but sent chills down their spines.

This is Yuko Moriguchi.

At this moment, the person sitting here is no longer Toho's princess, but an avenger who calmly walks into hell and drags everyone down with him.

What followed was a hundred times more frantic shutter sound than before, almost enough to lift the ceiling off!

Click! Click! Click!

If the previous shutter sounds were like a summer downpour, then the sound waves now are like thunder roaring like a tsunami.

The flashes went off at a near-self-destructive frequency, creating a blinding and chaotic white blur.

Even though all the reporters had goosebumps from the physical shivering, they still frantically pressed the shutter.