readease Chapter 210 A Dignified Exit
Chapter 210 A Dignified Exit
(A long chapter of 5,000 words~)
Early December 1989.
Nikkei Average: 30,120 points
Marunouchi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo.
The first snow of early winter fell gently, covering this steel jungle, a symbol of Japan's highest financial power, with a solemn, pure white layer.
The trees lining the streets were already adorned with dazzling Christmas lights, their glow spreading out in the wind and snow, exuding a sickly, decadent extravagance.
The black Nissan Presidential Sedan drove smoothly on the wet asphalt road.
Inside the carriage, the temperature control system precisely maintains the temperature at 24 degrees Celsius.
Satsuki leaned back in the soft leather seat. Her gaze drifted quietly to the street scene outside through the dark-tinted privacy window.
When passing the intersection of Ginza 4-chome, the car was forced to slow down.
The sidewalk was crowded with white-collar workers and business elites who had just finished their year-end party.
Most of the men had loosened their expensive suit ties, their faces flushed, waving 10,000 yen Fukuzawa Yukichi banknotes, trying to flag down a taxi with its "available" sign lit up in the snowstorm. The women, wrapped in heavy mink coats, carried huge shopping bags from Mitsukoshi or Wako department stores, their high heels stomping through the muddy snow, seemingly unconcerned about the stains on their expensive leather goods.
The entire city descended into a state of collective frenzy.
The Nikkei index just broke through the 37,000-point mark a few days ago. In everyone's common sense, the idea that asset prices will always rise has become an indisputable physical law.
In the window of an electronics store by the roadside, several Sony color televisions were simultaneously broadcasting the evening financial news. The economists on the screens, beaming with pride, confidently assured the entire nation that by next spring, the Nikkei index would undoubtedly break through the 50,000-point mark.
The passersby gathered outside the shop window burst into cheers.
The car accelerated again, leaving the frenzied roar behind.
A few minutes later, the convoy drove onto a relatively quiet street.
The Tokyo Bankers Club (originally located in the Tokyo Bankers Association building, which was demolished in 2016. The area has since been redeveloped into modern complexes such as Marunouchi Terrace).
This Western-style red brick building, constructed during the Taisho era, is hidden among the towering modern glass curtain wall skyscrapers, exuding a profound and majestic aura that has been accumulated over nearly a century.
The vehicle came to a stop under the wide, rainproof porch.
A doorman dressed in a black tuxedo quickly stepped forward and opened the car door with his hands clasped in clean white cotton gloves.
Satsuki stepped out of the car. Today she was wearing a deep blue haute couture velvet evening gown, her long hair pulled back by a simple pearl hairpin. Her slender neck was adorned with no other jewelry, except for a small Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso watch on her left wrist.
Fujita Tsuyoshi opened a huge black umbrella, steadily shielding the winter snow that was flying diagonally down from the night sky.
The wind, snow, and noise from the outside world are completely shut out after stepping through the heavy black cast iron gate.
Inside the domed hall on the first floor, a huge crystal chandelier casts a warm, slightly dim glow, and the air is filled with the rich aroma of aged cognac.
The string quartet played Mozart's String Quartet in D major on a semi-circular stage in the corner. The deep, resonant notes of the cellos spread across the heavy wool carpet.
A year-end salon for top chaebols is being held here.
Those who can step through this door are, without exception, political and business tycoons and core executives of conglomerates who control the lifeline of the Japanese economy.
Satsuki handed the slightly chilly cashmere shawl to the approaching waiter and stepped into the hall.
In the center of the hall, several mid-level real estate developers were enthusiastically discussing golf courses in Hawaii and resorts in Australia. In this era where simply owning land grants access to unlimited bank loans, an insatiable thirst for wealth burned in everyone's eyes. They sipped expensive champagne, boasting to each other about their paper assets that had just doubled yesterday.
The ultimate revelry at the end of the Showa era pushed everyone's rationality to the brink of a precipice.
"Miss Saionji! You've finally arrived!"
A slightly high-pitched male voice with a heavy Kansai accent rang out from the periphery of the crowd.
The president of Matsuura Construction, holding a glass overflowing with champagne and sweating profusely, squeezed through the crowd. This major real estate developer, who had been frantically hoarding land in Tokyo Bay over the past two years using extremely high leverage, wore a slightly obsequious smile. His striped suit was stretched taut, and his tie was askew.
"President Matsuura, good evening."
Satsuki stopped in her tracks. She nodded slightly, a gentle smile, the kind of impeccable grace typical of a noblewoman from a bygone aristocratic families, appearing on her face.
"Oh dear, everyone was just talking about the Saionji family."
President Matsuura moved closer, and although Fujita subtly pushed him away to keep his distance, the smell of alcohol emanating from him was still overwhelming.
"I heard that your group just transferred the iconic 'Pink Building' in Akasaka to the Seibu Group. You've also sold off several prime plots of land in Setagaya Ward."
Matsuura's eyes darted around, his tone carrying a shrewdness that suggested he saw through everything.
"Now is the best time to buy. The Nikkei index is about to break 40,000 points. Your family is selling off core assets at this critical juncture... Could it be that the higher-ups have misjudged the market outlook for next year? If Saionji Construction has any surplus land they want to sell, Matsuura Construction is willing to take it all at a 10% premium!"
Faced with this blatant probing and nouveau riche arrogance.
Satsuki's smile remained unchanged.
She looked at the man before her, his eyes bloodshot, his mind completely blinded by leverage and greed. Her mind quickly recalled the SIS think tank team's financial assessment report on Matsuura Construction.
With a debt ratio exceeding 600%, all short-term bridge loans are set to mature in the first quarter of next year.
This body was already completely rotten. He was just waiting for the executioner's block in the Ministry of Finance to fall, and he would become one of the first souls to leap from the rooftop of a high-rise building.
"President Matsuura's decisiveness is truly admirable." Satsuki's voice was gentle and calm, revealing no emotional fluctuation. "The Saionji family has always been conservative in its actions. Faced with such a turbulent market, we ultimately lack the courage to forge ahead. The future of Tokyo Bay will surely belong to pragmatic pioneers like you."
Upon hearing this praise, Matsuura felt as if he had received the highest level of affirmation. He proudly tilted his head back and downed the champagne in his glass in one gulp.
"Haha! Miss Saionji, you flatter me! In this day and age, being timid will leave you behind!"
Matsuura laughed and turned around, squeezing back into the group of enthusiastic real estate developers to continue his grand speech about buying the Fifth Avenue building in Manhattan.
Satsuki quietly watched the fat figure from behind.
Then, she looked away and walked to the right side of the hall.
There was a set of deep red Chesterfield leather sofas, located behind a huge load-bearing column, in a relatively secluded spot.
She sat down on the sofa.
The waiter approached silently and placed a bone china teacup filled with Darjeeling tea on the table.
Satsuki picked up her teacup, her gaze lowered.
The continuous asset sales and liquidations over the past few days have made the Saionji family's image in the eyes of outsiders increasingly enigmatic.
The Saionji family, known as the "dump truck of the Japanese business world," has suddenly become quiet recently, which has made everyone who is used to its rampage feel a little uneasy, fearing that it is brewing something big.
But apart from learning about the internal strife within the Saionji family, they couldn't obtain any other useful information.
Satsuki sat quietly amidst this noisy extravagance, her breathing steady.
"Miss Saionji, are you enjoying tea here alone?"
An aged yet powerful male voice rang out from the side in front of the sofa.
Hiroya Iwasaki, the top advisor of the Mitsubishi Group and the current head of the founding family that created the entire Mitsubishi Empire, walked slowly closer, leaning on a sandalwood cane.
As the former master who experienced the disintegration of the postwar zaibatsu but was still able to maintain the highest will of the "Friday Club" behind the scenes, this old man who controlled the lifeline of Japan's heavy industry had a smile on his face that revealed the composure and oppressive feeling of a person in a superior position.
Satsuki put down her teacup. She nodded slightly, smiling warmly.
"Good evening, Mr. Iwasaki."
Iwasaki didn't seem to mind that Satsuki hadn't gotten up to greet him, and simply sat down on the single sofa opposite him. He placed his cane flat beside him and accepted a glass of whiskey from the waiter.
"The snow outside is falling quite heavily," Iwasaki Hiroya said gently, watching the ice ball bobbing in his glass. "This year's first snow seems to be earlier than usual. Did you catch a chill on your journey, Satsuki-san?"
"Thank you for your concern. The car is heated, so it's not cold."
Satsuki slightly curved her beautiful eyebrows and picked up the bone china teacup in front of her.
"Besides, the temperature in this hall is perfect, and a freshly brewed cup of Darjeeling would be just the right way to ward off the chill. Hmm... speaking of which, Lord Iwasaki seems to be in quite the mood today, enjoying wine alone here?"
"As people get older, they tend to prefer peace and quiet. I can't join in on what those young people are talking about on the dance floor anymore." Iwasaki Hiroya chuckled softly, his cloudy old eyes lingering for half a second on Satsuki's slightly weary face. "Isn't Shuichi here tonight? In previous years, he would always drag me out for a couple of drinks at this time."
"My father has been feeling a little tired lately and is resting at our family home."
Satsuki lowered her eyes, her tone revealing a hint of hesitation and pause.
"The various year-end affairs are piling up, and there are many accounts to sort out within the family, which is quite exhausting. Tonight, I, as the younger generation, will have to attend on behalf of my father."
"I see. Brother Xiuyi has indeed worked hard. After all, managing such a vast enterprise must be incredibly stressful."
Hiroya Iwasaki drew out the last syllable of his sigh, using it as a springboard to steer the conversation back on track.
"I've heard that the Saionji family has been very active in the real estate market lately. They even transferred that iconic building in Akasaka to the Seibu Group."
Iwasaki spoke very slowly.
"This massive cash transaction of 350 billion yen has truly shaken the entire Marunouchi area. I wonder if the Saionji family... has their sights set on some more promising new landmark?"
These words, though seemingly casual conversation, actually contained a hidden meaning.
The Saionji family has suddenly acquired a large amount of cash, making it crucial to ascertain their next move.
Satsuki's smile faltered slightly.
She lowered her head and looked at the amber-colored black tea liquid in the cup.
A hint of helplessness, as if his sore spot had been touched, was subtly revealed in his eyes.
A full five seconds passed.
Satsuki sighed softly. The sigh was particularly clear amidst the soothing string music.
"I apologize for making you laugh, Lord Iwasaki." Satsuki spoke a beat slower than usual, with a hint of resignation after giving up. "With funding of this scale, I do indeed have many ideas for new projects. However…"
She raised her head, her eyes filled with suppressed bitterness.
"The older generation of the family was thoroughly alarmed by the financial losses incurred in Odaiba and Hokkaido in the early stages. In order to uphold the family's traditional bottom line of 'zero debt,' Kensuke and the others forcibly halted all new expansion plans at the board meeting."
Iwasaki's fingers, holding the wine glass, paused slightly. A glint of light flashed in his cloudy old eyes.
"Oh? Then this cash..." Iwasaki asked at the opportune moment.
"The elders felt that the domestic real estate market was overheated, and that continuing to invest would be too risky." Satsuki's slender fingers gently caressed the rim of her teacup. "They forced the finance department to convert all 350 billion yen in cash into US dollars and Swiss francs."
"Currently, this money has been approved by the Ministry of Finance and flowed overseas. It has all been used to purchase short-term U.S. Treasury bills with a yield of only eight percent." Satsuki's voice grew softer, revealing a deep sense of powerlessness. "The elders call this... the most conservative principal-protected savings."
The sofa area fell into a brief silence.
Eight percent bond yield.
In this crazy era where you can buy a piece of land in Tokyo with your eyes closed and resell it for a 50% profit, spending hundreds of billions of dollars in cash on US Treasury bonds is seen by most bloodthirsty speculators as a complete waste.
But Iwasaki is not one of those newly rich without any foundation. He has lived long enough to witness too many rises and falls.
He looked at the helpless-looking girl in front of him, a knowing glint in his cloudy old eyes.
It turned out to be the case.
Is this what the old Chinese were like? Rigid, conservative, and valuing survival more than life itself.
Iwasaki silently assessed the situation in his mind.
In this frenzied era, those old fogies were ultimately terrified by the leverage of modern finance and the massive consumption of infrastructure. In order to safeguard the family's bottom line of security, they regained control of the steering wheel and forcibly slammed on the brakes of a sports car that was traveling at high speed.
It's a pity that these elders are truly sinners of the Saionji family.
Although the Saionji family possessed astonishing explosive power, they were ultimately hampered by the outdated rules within the family, lacking the ambition to conquer the world.
But as Mitsubishi's top leader, he also sees a longer-term perspective.
This situation of an old man in power cannot last long.
Given the skills this young girl has displayed, once she recovers from this ordeal, it's only a matter of time before she completely purges the conservative faction from within and regains power.
Since they are hampered by internal issues and unable to make waves in the market in the short term, let alone truly shake the core dominance of the three major players, then when she rises again and urgently needs external financial support, Mitsubishi can take the opportunity to extend an olive branch, absorb this behemoth into the Friday Club system, and completely assimilate them.
Iwasaki composed himself and a comforting smile, like that of an elder, appeared on his face.
"The older generation values stability, also for the sake of the family's long-term prosperity. Miss Satsuki need not worry too much. Overseas treasury bonds offer modest returns, but their advantage lies in absolute safety."
On the other side of the salon hall.
Nakana Kou, the founder of the Daiei Group, stood in front of a 19th-century oil painting, a glass of champagne in hand. He kept a close eye on Satsuki's movements. He had already confirmed the flow of funds from the Saionji family's large-scale purchase of overseas government bonds through his intelligence broker.
He tilted his head back and downed the champagne in one gulp. The cold liquid slid down his throat, and he let out a long exhale, releasing the pent-up frustration that had been building up in his chest for months.
It finally stopped.
He secretly plotted his internal energy cultivation in his heart.
That behemoth that had been rampaging through the retail and real estate industries, suffocating Da Rong, was finally tethered by their own dog leash.
Now that the Saionji family has entered a period of contraction, Daiei must take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime window of opportunity to seize logistics and land in the Kanto region.
That little girl would never willingly admit defeat.
Before she can resolve the family's internal strife and return to the fold, Da Rong must dig a deep enough moat in the market.
When she comes back, Da Rong will make sure she can't even find a place to put her feet.
Unlike the relief felt by those who practice internal energy cultivation.
Standing at the bar, sipping his single malt whisky, the president of Mitsui Bank, Yoshino, heard the whispers around him and let out a silent sigh of regret.
Using 350 billion in cash to buy dead bonds is utterly a desecration of capital.
President Yoshino gently swirled his wine glass.
Miss Satsuki is still too young and can't control those old fogies who rely on their seniority for the time being.
However, this is also an excellent investment opportunity.
When she prepares to retaliate and purge the conservatives, she will inevitably need massive and clandestine external financial support.
At that time, Mitsui Bank will not hesitate to provide her with an unlimited personal credit line.
This act of kindness in times of need is enough to secure Mitsui a core ally position in the future Saionji Empire.
This lavish year-end salon continued with the accompaniment of a symphony orchestra.
Within this magnificent red-brick building, various factions, based on their own interests and perceptions, made what appeared to be the most rational judgments.
They felt regret, they felt fortunate, and they planned for the future.