readease Chapter 294 An Invitation
Chapter 294 An Invitation
The chairman's office on the top floor of the Seibu Group headquarters building.
The cold autumn rain poured down on the huge floor-to-ceiling windows.
Thick cumulus clouds darkened the outdoor light, and a dense curtain of water obscured the distant city skyline, leaving only crisscrossing streaks of water on the windowpane.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi sat behind a large black walnut desk, his face somber.
In front of him lay the latest season's "Paradise House Financial Statements".
Secretary Shimada stood to the side of the desk, her hands clasped together on her abdomen.
"Chairman," Shimada's voice was slightly tense, "all deficit figures have been recalculated."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi placed the cigar he was holding between his fingers on the edge of the crystal ashtray.
"read."
"Since the outbreak of the Middle East war, the international spot price of crude oil has increased several times over in the past period." Shimada looked at the memo in his hand, "In order to maintain the 28-degree tropical rainforest temperature inside the 'Central Ecological Dome System' of Gokurakukan, the heavy-duty boiler units in the underground infrastructure are always running at full capacity. Together with the industrial energy consumption of the outer snow melting and de-icing system and the artificial wave hydraulic unit in the inner field, the cost of our daily purchase of special heavy oil is already close to the Finance Department's maximum budget limit."
Shimada turned a page.
"At the same time, the macroeconomic downturn caused by the Ministry of Finance's 'Total Quantity Regulation' has begun to manifest on the consumption side. The paper assets of the newly rich have shrunk significantly, which has directly led to a sharp decline in high-end customer traffic at the Pleasure House. Currently, the daily chip exchange amount of the roulette casino on the ground floor and the cash flow of the auction house on the top floor have both shown a precipitous drop."
"Standard room occupancy rates have hit a record low, with extremely high vacancy rates. While bookings for specially invited villas have not decreased significantly, overall revenue from accommodation is still declining."
"Moreover, recently, several artworks worth tens of millions of yuan failed to sell at top-tier auctions. This should have been one of the important sources of revenue."
"The high operating and maintenance costs and the sharp decline in revenue have created a scissor gap, which is continuously draining the group's already tight cash flow due to the loan cut-off."
A brief silence fell over the office.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stared at the glaring deficit at the bottom of the report, his facial muscles twitching slightly.
He reached out and picked up the still-burning cigar, put it in his mouth and took a deep drag.
Turning off the constant temperature system in the Paradise Hall would immediately stop this enormous cash outflow.
However, once the heating is cut off, the -20°C blizzards of Hokkaido will freeze through the glass dome within hours. All the tropical plants transplanted from the equator at great expense will die. The entire Gokurakukan will become a lifeless pile of glass ruins.
More importantly, this means that he has to admit to the whole of Japan that he, the "Emperor Seibu," has failed in his attempt to take over.
He's not even as good as a little maid in the Saionji family.
This is tantamount to admitting to the outside world that he, the "Emperor Seibu" who wields great influence in the business world, is in dire financial straits.
This will not only deal a devastating blow to his face and reputation.
At this critical juncture when the entire industry is on edge, any sign of weakness regarding Seibu Group's cash flow problems will trigger panic among creditor banks regarding Seibu's debt repayment ability. Those banks, driven to desperation by the Ministry of Finance, will pounce like wolves smelling blood, demanding early repayment of all bridge loans.
He absolutely cannot show weakness now; the consequences of doing so would be far more serious than showing weakness itself.
But if he continues to hold on, the cash he burns through every day is seriously dragging down the turnover of his other core businesses.
dilemma.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's fingers, which were holding a cigar, tightened slightly.
Just then, Shimada stepped forward and took an envelope from the document folder under his arm.
"Chairman, this invitation was delivered this morning by a special representative from the Saionji main family."
Shimada placed the envelope flat on the marble table with both hands and pushed it over.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced down.
The envelope was made of top-quality Echizen washi paper, with a subtle sheen. There were no superfluous decorations on the surface, only the Saionji family crest, the left-side three-pointed swastika, printed in the lower right corner.
He reached out, opened the envelope, and pulled out the invitation inside.
What catches the eye are rows of neat and beautiful handwritten characters. The signature is Saionji Satsuki.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's gaze swept quickly across the paper.
[Respectfully yours]
[On this chilly autumn day, I wish His Excellency Yoshiaki Tsutsumi good health and the Seibu Group continued prosperity.]
As a titan of the Japanese business world, Your Excellency's commitment to business ethics and social responsibility has always been deeply admired and remembered by us younger generations. In the face of current economic turmoil, many small and medium-sized enterprises are struggling, and many low-level employees are displaced. As a member of the business community, I, Saionji, am honored to host a "Charity Dinner for Relief of Unemployed Employees of Bankrupt Companies" tonight at the S-Palace Hotel in Minato Ward, in order to contribute my modest efforts.
[It would be a great blessing for the Saionji family and the affected people if you could grace us with your presence and provide guidance for this charitable endeavor. We earnestly request your attendance.]
[Respectful Remarks]
[Respectfully submitted by Satsuki Saionji]
The letter was written in a respectful tone, and every word and format elevated him to the highest pedestal in the business world.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi looked at those honorific titles.
"Oh."
He let out a short, cold laugh and casually tossed the top-quality washi paper onto the table.
What kind of charity gala?
That girl clearly knew that the heavy oil expenses at the Pleasure Pavilion were draining Seibu's accounts. This invitation was a death warrant.
By placing him on the highest pedestal of "financial titan," bringing him under the watchful eyes of the entire Japanese media, he found himself unable to refuse this flattery that could ultimately backfire. At a time when major banks were pressing for repayment, the Saionji family's high-profile philanthropy was a recipe for disaster. If, as the richest man, he feigned illness and didn't attend, or if the amount he donated didn't match his status…
Tomorrow morning, rumors of Seibu's financial collapse will be in the newspapers. Those creditor banks will immediately pounce on them like wolves smelling blood.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi clenched his back teeth, and the muscles in his cheeks bulged slightly.
Knowing full well it was a blood-draining trap, they had no choice but to hold their noses and jump in.
For some reason, even though there were no signs, he always felt like he was being led by the nose by that little girl.
"Go arrange the convoy."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the Tokyo street scene in the rain.
"I will attend the banquet in person."
Shimada paused for a moment.
"Chairman, our current current account..." Shimada hesitated, "If we're going to donate a large sum of cash at the banquet, what about the operation of the other projects..."
"Go and collect them."
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi interrupted his secretary's concerns, his voice deep and resonant.
"Not only should we donate, but we should donate more than anyone else."
He stared at the winding water streaks on the bulletproof glass.
"I want to use this money to silence the rumors in front of the media's flashing lights. As long as I stand there smiling and throwing money around, Seibu will remain the dominant force in this city."
……
The lobby of the editorial department of the Yomiuri Shimbun newspaper.
Editor-in-Chief Sato stood in front of the typesetting table, his hands supporting him on the surface, staring intently at the proof of the completed front page headline.
The bold, lead-type headline occupied a large portion of the page: "A Glimmer of Light in the Cold Winter: Saionji Group Establishes Unemployment Relief Fund".
Frontline reporter Tanaka strode into the office with several freshly developed photos in hand.
He had just taken off his raincoat, and several patches of the inner lining were wet, but he didn't care and directly slapped the photo onto the proof in front of Sato.
"Editor-in-chief, I've confirmed the banquet address on the invitation." Tanaka pointed his finger firmly at the photo.
Sato frowned, his gaze falling on the photograph.
The photo shows a super high-rise hotel in Minato Ward. It has just hung up an illuminated sign that reads "S-Palace Hotel".
The building's exterior adopts a minimalist style that blends with Japanese wabi-sabi aesthetics. The dark volcanic rock facade paired with warm charcoal-black wooden latticework exudes a restrained sense of sophistication in the rain.
"What's wrong with this building?" Sato looked up at Tanaka.
"I remember that after Matsuura jumped, the building was seized by Chiba Bank." Sato stared at the photo. "According to the Legal Affairs Bureau's filings, wasn't the entity that took over the property a Cayman Islands offshore fund?"
"So it wasn't until this invitation was sent out today that the clues were pieced together." Tanaka tapped hard on the address field of the invitation. "The actual controller of that foreign fund is the Saionji family. They secretly bought out this bad debt and finished the interior decoration before today."
Tanaka straightened up and clenched his fists.
Sato's gaze returned to the dark-colored building in the photo.
"They're using the assets that drove their competitors to ruin to throw lavish unemployment parties." Tanaka clenched his fist, his tone clearly accusatory. "Editor-in-chief, this is clearly a publicity stunt. The Saionji family is using the corpses of bankrupt individuals to elevate their own image!"
"Are we really going to promote these hypocritical tycoons when they themselves are just taking advantage of the situation?"
Sato didn't speak. He picked up the photograph, examined it carefully for a moment, and then gently placed it back on the table.
"Tanaka-kun."
Sato turned around and pointed to the desolate street outside the window.
"Look outside. The Ministry of Finance and the banks are pressing for repayment. Small and medium-sized enterprises are going bankrupt every day, and unemployed workers don't even know where to find money for tomorrow's food."
Sato looked directly into Tanaka's eyes, his voice deep.
"Have you forgotten the Saionji Group's large-scale relief efforts for disaster victims? Those bankrupt people who were starving to death in Ueno Park were eating hot meals delivered free of charge by Saionji's logistics trucks. When the bureaucrats were helpless, it was the Saionji family that took out real money to fill the stomachs of the poor."
Sato reached out and patted the formatted proof on the table.
"In the eyes of the public now, the Saionji family is the only remaining conscience in this cold winter. No one cares what the building used to belong to, or how Matsuura died. They have long since recognized the Saionji family as their saviors."
"For a newspaper to boost sales, it must follow this established public opinion. Since the people crave relief, we'll help them sculpt this idol even higher."
"A building that has changed owners cannot stop people's desire for life-saving funds. Tonight's headline must not be changed by a single word."
……
The autumn rains continued.
Under the eaves across the street from the S-Palace Hotel.
Yamada, a former low-level contractor at Matsuura Construction, huddled in the shadows. His coarse work clothes were already soaked through, the cold fabric clinging to his skin. His stomach was cramping from prolonged hunger, and acid rose in his throat, bringing a burning sensation.
He hugged his arms tightly, trying to conserve the last bit of heat in his body.
Yamada's gaze was fixed on the building across the street, which was blocked off by hundreds of security personnel in black.
Warm-toned, concealed lighting on the building's ground floor cast a quiet and luxurious glow on the dark volcanic rock and raw wood, creating a serene atmosphere in the rainy night. Luxury cars drove into the entrance hall one after another, and dignitaries in evening gowns entered the brightly lit lobby under the cover of umbrellas.
Yamada recognized the imported stone on the exterior wall of that building.
He and the workers, under the scorching sun, attached each piece by hand, with safety ropes in place.
The project was completed, but the wages have not been settled to this day. The former company president, Matsuura, jumped from the roof of the Keio Plaza Hotel. And these lowly workers were left abandoned and forgotten.
Looking at the huge banner that read "Relief for Unemployed Workers" hanging on the exterior wall of the building, Yamada shivered in the cold wind.
"Have you heard? Tonight, those tycoon bosses are going to donate tens of billions of dollars in cash."
"Will they really send it to us? My family is almost starving..."
Several bankrupt individuals nearby, also seeking shelter from the rain, discussed in hushed tones, their voices filled with an almost pleading expectation.
Yamada gritted his teeth. He had indeed queued up at Ueno Park before to receive a free bowl of hot beef rice from the Saionji Logistics truck. He knew in his heart that while the government and big banks turned a deaf ear, it was this company that had provided them with real money, giving them a lifeline.
But he still couldn't suppress the grief, anger, and vigilance surging in his heart.
He stared intently at the brightly lit building across the street. It was the culmination of countless days and nights of hard work, the stone cladding laid piece by piece under the slings of safety harnesses. The bank's forced withdrawal of the loan drove President Matsuura to his death, refusing to pay them any of their wages, and then promptly sold the building at a pittance.
Now, these bigwigs are holding lavish charity dinners in this building, standing on the very foundations of their unpaid wages.
Hundreds of billions in cash. Even a small share would be enough to send living expenses to his wife back home and buy medicine for his sick child.
A bowl of beef rice did fill his stomach, but this kind of grand show, often involving billions, made his survival instincts, honed through years of struggling at the bottom of society, uneasy. The handouts made under the spotlight by big bankers and tycoon leaders often conceal deeper exchanges of interests.
He wanted to see for himself whether those high-and-mighty capitalists genuinely intended to provide cash relief to those driven to desperation, or were merely engaging in a power struggle and profit-sharing within this blood-stained building.
Yamada pulled up his soaked collar to cover half his face.
He turned around, avoiding the bright lights of the main entrance and the gaze of the security personnel, and walked towards the dark alley behind the building.
As the original contractor for the building, he remembered every detail on the blueprints. At the end of the underground building materials passage, there was a blind spot where the blueprints had not yet been handed over due to design changes. The ventilation vents there were loose, leading directly to the hotel's back-of-house kitchen preparation corridor.
He waded through the puddles and disappeared into the darkness of the alley.
……
A black luxury sedan was driving on the road leading to the port area.
In the back seat of the train carriage, Vice President Kagawa, the senior executive in charge of credit at Fuji Bank, held the gold-embossed invitation in his hand.
The air conditioner was set to a comfortable temperature, but Kagawa's forehead was constantly covered in cold sweat. He took out a white handkerchief and slowly wiped his forehead.
The assistant beside him looked out the window at the rapidly receding rain scene and turned his head.
"Vice President," the assistant said in a low, hesitant voice, "the bank's internal bad debt hole is on the verge of being exposed. We simply don't have any extra cash to donate this 'charity.' Perhaps... we could feign illness and skip this banquet?"
Kagawa shook his head with a wry smile.
He folded the handkerchief and put it in his pocket, then tossed the gold-embossed invitation onto the leather seat.
"Absent?" Kagawa's voice was filled with deep helplessness and frustration. "The entire Japanese media is watching this banquet. The public is still furious about the banks' recent withdrawal of loans and their failure to bail them out, and they're just looking for an outlet for their anger."
Kagawa looked at his assistant.
"Believe it or not, if we dare to claim illness and not show up on the list tonight, tomorrow morning the headlines of all the major newspapers will be 'Fuji Bank refuses to provide relief,' and we'll be labeled as 'vampires.' At that point, we'll be the 'worst' bank, and desperate rioters will take bricks and smash every single one of our branches on the street."
The assistant hesitated for a moment, looking at the address on the invitation.
"However, the location was chosen to be S-Palace... After receiving the invitation, I checked the records from the Legal Affairs Bureau. That building was still mortgaged by Matsuura Construction last month, and Chiba Bank just listed it. The Saionji family deliberately picked a bad project left behind by a competitor who drove a customer to suicide. This is clearly a public slap in the face to our banking industry."
Upon hearing this, Kagawa's bitter smile deepened.
As a credit executive who personally drove countless real estate developers to the brink of collapse, Kagawa was already accustomed to this kind of "acquiring properties at rock-bottom prices by stepping on the corpses of his peers." People die every day in the business world; he didn't care what the building's previous owner was.
What truly made him uncomfortable was the enormous cash flow that the Saionji family displayed at this particular time.
After the Ministry of Finance issued its "Total Balance Sheet," the accounts of major banks were riddled with problems. Everyone knew that they were all desperately trying to cover up bad debts and were just barely hanging on by a thread.
The Saionji family not only has spare money to take over the billions of yen in bad debts from Chiba Bank and spend a lot of money to complete the interior design in a very short time, but they can even take out cash to give out charitable donations.
The Saionji family was using this method to demonstrate their substantial financial resources to all the dignitaries attending the banquet.
In this battle for cash flow, the banking industry has been completely suppressed.
Even knowing that this was a trap set by moral blackmail, they still had to squeeze out their depleted cash and go to the scene to donate the money with smiles.
As the car rounded the corner, the dark volcanic rock facade of the S-Palace Hotel came into view through the rain. Warm-toned lighting from the ground floor illuminated the black stone and wooden latticework, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility.
The car slowly slowed down and drove into the hotel's dark underground parking garage.
Kagawa took a deep breath and straightened his suit collar with both hands.
He closed his eyes, preparing to face the unknown slaughter.