N-M Chapter 146: Both an Investment and a Leading Role
Chapter 146: Both an Investment and a Leading Role
Chapter 146: Both an Investment and a Leading Role
In the third audition room at Fuji Television's Kawada-cho headquarters.
Five people were sitting behind the long conference table.
In the very center is director Hiroshi Nishitani, a middle-aged director known for his sharp cinematic language and skill in handling large-scale scenes.
He twirled a ballpoint pen in his hand, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
Sitting to his left was screenwriter Yumiko Inoue, a woman with a seasoned writing style who was extremely adept at depicting power struggles between men.
Sitting to the director's right was Kitahara Shin.
Unlike his previous roles as the "subject of scrutiny" standing center stage, today he sat calmly as the "scrutinizer," dressed in a dark gray casual suit and wearing the gold-rimmed glasses prepared for the role.
In its position.
As the male lead of "The White Tower," Goro Zaizen, and also one of the investors in the series (Kitahara Office invested 20%), he had this extremely important decision-making power.
Besides the three of them, two other producers were sitting at either end of the table.
One is Fuji TV's own top producer, Ota Ryo, and the other is a high-ranking executive at Kyodo News.
Both of them are seasoned veterans in the industry, holding considerable resources and tasked with sending their own newcomers to film crews.
This is an open secret in this industry.
So-called fair auditions only exist for insignificant extras. The truly important supporting roles are already snapped up by various agencies long before the auditions even begin.
Those who can sit here for auditions are either popular celebrities or people with connections who have "passports" to them.
"Kitahara-san".
Producer Da Duoliang turned his head, smiled, and handed Kitahara Shin a bottle of mineral water. "How does it feel? It's the first time I've sat in this seat watching someone else act."
"Very different."
Kitahara Shin took the water, rubbing the coolness of the bottle with his fingertips, and said with a smile, "When I was standing there before, I was always thinking about how to please everyone. Now that I'm sitting here, I realize that this is what the perspective from above is like."
"Haha, that's absolutely right."
Another producer laughed along, "This is the taste of power. But Kitahara-san, you don't need to be so polite. There are quite a few promising talents here today. If you see someone you like, just let us know."
After exchanging pleasantries, the audition officially began.
The door opened.
The first group to arrive consisted of several popular actors who were familiar faces in the current season's Japanese dramas.
They were auditioning for roles such as Shuji Satomi (the second male lead) or one of the other professors.
When the actors saw Kitahara Shin sitting in the center, a hint of surprise, or even pressure, flashed in their eyes.
After all, that man is now not only a guarantee of high ratings, but also the absolute core of the show.
"Let's begin," Director Hiroshi Nishitani said expressionlessly.
The performance begins.
Some actors overdid it, turning Dr. Satomi into a preachy saint; others were too restrained, completely overwhelmed by the weight of the "white tower."
After several rounds, Hiroshi Nishitani's brows furrowed more and more tightly.
He turned his head and whispered a few words to screenwriter Yumiko Inoue, then looked at Shin Kitahara and the other two producers: "What do you all think?"
"It's decent, nothing too bad." Da Duoliang gave a very official assessment, "but there's nothing particularly wrong with it."
Kitahara Shin didn't say anything, but simply drew a mark on one of the resumes and then gently shook his head.
The movement was very light, but the meaning was clear: No.
Hiroshi Nishitani nodded, clearly agreeing.
Although producers have the right to recommend projects, the final decision rests with the director. Especially with this highly anticipated anniversary drama, no one dares to gamble on quality. Faced with the consensus that "it must be a blockbuster," some connections are destined to become cannon fodder.
Several more rounds passed.
The door was pushed open again.
This time, it was a woman who walked in.
With her arrival, the air in the audition room seemed to change.
She was wearing a black fitted dress with a beige trench coat draped over it.
She held a well-made handbag in her hand, and her high heels made a crisp and rhythmic sound as they clicked on the floor.
Hitomi Kuroki.
She took off her sunglasses, and her eyes, which always seemed to hold a pool of spring water, swept around the room before finally settling on Kitahara Shin.
There was nothing unexpected or surprising about it.
A slight smile appeared on her lips.
It's as if it's saying: I said we'd meet again, Goro-chan.
"Hello everyone, I'm Hitomi Kuroki."
She bowed slightly, her demeanor impeccably elegant. "The role I'm auditioning for is Keiko Hanamori."
She was Zaizen Goro's mistress, the incredibly intelligent and charming Ginza madam.
Director Hiroshi Nishitani was clearly interested in this "intellectual villain," and sat up straight: "Kuroki-san, please begin your performance. Do you need someone to act with you?"
According to the original procedure, the assistant director or assistant should have acted alongside the actor.
But Hitomi Kuroki shook her head.
Her gaze swept across the long table, landing directly on Kitahara Shin, her eyes filled with undisguised aggression: "Since Zaizen Goro himself is here, could I—borrow him for a moment?"
The room fell silent upon hearing this.
Screenwriter Yumiko Inoue raised an eyebrow, producer Akira Dota showed a look of anticipation, while director Hiroshi Nishitani stroked his chin, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.
Should the investor, who is also the lead actor, personally participate in the filming?
This is quite rare in auditions.
All eyes were on Kitahara Shin.
Facing Kuroki Hitomi's provocative yet inviting gaze, Kitahara Shin remained calm.
He leaned back in his chair, a habitual gesture of Goro Zaizen—a gesture of control and arrogance.
"Can."
Kitahara Shin smiled and spoke in a steady voice, "Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Kuroki?"
"Nothing needs to be done."
Kuroki Hitomi chuckled softly and walked step by step toward the long table in her high heels.
"Just sit there and be a good Professor Zaizen."
She walked around the long table and went directly to Kitahara Shin's side.
Unlike a typical audition, she didn't maintain distance; she didn't even sit in the chair next to her.
She turned to the side and sat directly on the corner of the table in front of Kitahara Shin.
It was a highly aggressive yet suggestive gesture. The lines of her thighs were faintly visible beneath her skirt, and the scent of her perfume instantly enveloped Kitahara Shin.
"This is----"
The screenwriter, Yumiko Inoue, standing next to her, lit up and stopped writing.
This is the scene from the original work where Goro Zaizen goes to Keiko Hanamori's apartment late at night during the most crucial and stressful time of his fight for the professorship.
Hitomi Kuroki looked at Shin Kitahara, who was standing right in front of her.
At this moment, the gentle and refined Kitahara Shin vanished. Sitting before her was Zaizen Goro, a man with weary eyes, full of ambition yet struggling on the edge of a precipice.
She reached out and gently traced her fingertips across Kitahara Shin's furrowed brows, as if soothing a wounded but still fierce lion.
"What's wrong, Goro-chan?"
Her voice changed.
It was no longer the distant politeness of before, but became deep and languid, with even a hint of the soft, sweet tone unique to the Hakata dialect at the end of the sentence, an intimacy that could only be revealed in a private space.
"Are those old men giving you trouble again?"
Kitahara Shin didn't speak, but simply closed his eyes, his brows still furrowed, as if enjoying this moment of tranquility, or perhaps escaping the heavy burden of reality.
"What an stupid face."
Kuroki Hitomi pulled a cigarette (a prop) from the cigarette case on the table, but didn't light it. She just toyed with it between her slender fingers, her tone carrying three parts mockery and seven parts indulgence: "For that so-called professor title, you've tortured yourself into this state. Men are all idiots, really."
She lowered her head, leaned close to Kitahara Shin's ear, and whispered sweetly, "But—I just love how silly you are."
"Those so-called justice and morality are nothing but a fart in the face of your scalpel. If you want to climb up, then step on their heads."
There was not a trace of shame in her eyes for being a "third party," but rather a clear-eyed understanding of the world. In front of this man, she was not a vine to cling to, but the only soil that could contain his ambition.
"If you're tired, you can sleep here for a while."
Hitomi Kuroki ran her fingers through Shin Kitahara's hair, her movements as gentle as if she were coaxing a child: "Don't worry, as long as I don't wake you up, those storms outside won't reach here."
After saying that line, she didn't immediately step back, but remained in that position, quietly looking at Kitahara Shin.
At that moment, the air seemed to become thick and sticky.
A tension unique to adult men and women, a mixture of desire and pity, flowed silently between them.
A few seconds of deathly silence.
The ambiguous atmosphere only dissipated when Kuroki Hitomi slowly withdrew her hand and stepped down from the table.
"call----"
Screenwriter Yumiko Inoue let out a long sigh of relief and broke the silence first. She adjusted her glasses, scribbled a few words heavily in her notebook, and then nodded repeatedly: "That's it. This is Keiko."
Director Hiroshi Nishitani no longer had a stern face. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Hitomi Kuroki standing in the center of the room with eyes full of appreciation and recognition.
"really."
Hiroshi Nishitani turned to producer Nobuyuki Kitahara and producer Akira Ota beside him, his tone carrying a hint of certainty: "I was initially worried that the young Zaizen and Keiko might feel out of place together. But that scene just now—that balance between maternal instinct and lover was captured so well. I feel like I can't think of anyone else but Kuroki-san."
Producer Ryo also smiled and applauded, saying, "That dangerous yet captivating atmosphere, it's truly worthy of Kuroki-san. It seems we've found our 'mama-san'."
Faced with everyone's praise, Kuroki Hitomi simply gave a graceful, slight bow.
Then, she turned to look at Kitahara Shin, and when no one was looking, she winked at him playfully and mouthed:
I won.
Kitahara Shin smiled helplessly and circled her name heavily next to it on the resume.
This woman is truly remarkable.
After Hitomi Kuroki left, the audition continued.
The performances of the next few newcomers were somewhat disappointing.
Some were people with connections who were forced into the production by the producers. They were pretty, but when they opened their mouths to read their lines, it sounded like they were reciting a textbook. Others had some acting skills, but their demeanor was completely out of place with the serious atmosphere of "The White Tower".
"well----"
Producer Duo Liang sighed, rubbing his temples with a headache. "Young people these days are still too impetuous."
He turned to Kitahara Shin: "Kitahara-san, didn't your agency bring any new talent? I remember you signed a few promising prospects, didn't you? Aren't you planning to come and give them a try?"
-
"There isn't a particularly suitable one yet."
Kitahara Shin shook his head, his tone calm, "They all have their own plans these days, and I originally wanted to let them take some more time to reflect."
That's the truth.
Rie Miyazawa had just gone through a family crisis and wasn't quite mature yet; Nanako Matsushima, on the other hand, was being tortured to the point of near death in an underground theater troupe.
Kitahara Shin hadn't originally planned to bring them here so quickly.
however.
No sooner had he finished speaking than the door was pushed open again.
"Sorry to bother you."
Kitahara Shin looked up and froze.
The two people who walked in were the same two girls he had just said "didn't come".
Rie Miyazawa, walking ahead, wore a simple white dress, her hair tied in a neat ponytail, and thin-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She completely lacked her usual flamboyant fashion icon persona, instead exuding an air of scholarly refinement and the dignified grace of a well-bred lady.
Following behind her was Nanako Matsushima, dressed in a simple nurse's uniform (clearly she had come prepared). Although she looked a little awkward, her 1.72-meter height and natural cuteness still made her stand out.
Seeing the momentary look of surprise on Kitahara Shin's face as he sat in the middle, Rie Miyazawa couldn't help but smile slightly.
That was a feeling of pride, and also a pleasant surprise.
Hmph, didn't expect that, did you? We signed up secretly!
The two walked to their designated spot in front of the long table and bowed in unison.
Rie Miyazawa spoke first, her voice clear and steady, carrying an air of confidence that was neither humble nor arrogant: "I am Rie Miyazawa, a signed artist from Kitahara's agency."
Nanako, who was beside her, quickly followed suit and bowed, her voice trembling slightly: "I, I am—Nanako Matsushima, also from the Kitahara Office."
The moment the words "Kitahara Office" were uttered, a subtle ripple appeared in the air.
Producer Da Liang and the executive from Kyodo News exchanged a knowing glance and smiled knowingly.
They arrived as expected.
This is a true "boss's man".
Director Hiroshi Nishitani didn't seem to care much about these relationships; he was more interested in Rie Miyazawa's look today.
"I've seen your photos and your old photos."
Nishitani Hiroshi twirled his pen, speaking bluntly, "To be honest, your image is too glamorous. But today's outfit—it's interesting. Are you auditioning for Higashi Saeko?"
"Yes," Rie nodded.
"Do you know what the core of this character is?" screenwriter Yumiko Inoue suddenly asked. "She is Professor Azuma's daughter, a true heiress. She looks down on nouveau riche like Goro Zaizen and dislikes her father's scheming. She is very quiet."
"I know."
Rie looked up, her gaze piercing through her glasses, and calmly replied, "But I think her 'quietness' isn't dullness. It's precisely because she saw through her father's hypocrisy as a professor that she felt a curiosity about Zaizen Goro—the one who dared to tear down all those rules—that even frightened her."
Yumiko Inoue raised an eyebrow: "Oh? Curious? Then let's act out a scene. The scene is in the hospital courtyard, where you bump into Goro Zaizen."
"OK."
Rie Miyazawa took a deep breath.
She didn't start immediately, but closed her eyes and took three seconds to adjust her breathing.
She lowered her head slightly, as if holding a thick original book in her hands, and took two slow steps in place. Then, as if she suddenly sensed something, she stopped.
She looked up.
She didn't look at Kitahara Shin himself, who was sitting in the middle, but rather at a patch of air beside Kitahara Shin—there she had created a fictional Zaizen Goro.
At first, her eyes were evasive.
That was the instinctive defensiveness of a girl in an ivory tower when she encounters an "intruder." She pursed her lips, her fingers unconsciously tightening around a non-existent corner of a book, and leaned back slightly, creating a polite but distant distance.
"—Associate Professor Zaizen."
She spoke softly, her voice not loud, but carrying the reserved and aloof air unique to ladies from noble families.
There was a two-second pause.
It seemed that "Zaizen Goro" had said something, or was preparing to turn and leave.
Rie's eyes suddenly changed.
As she watched his retreating figure, her initial aloofness slowly crumbled, giving way to an extremely complex emotion. It was a questioning of her father's authority, and a tremor of fear at the wild vitality of the man before her.
"My father often mentions you at dinner."
She spoke again, this time with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice, as if she were having a rebellious conversation behind her father's back: "He said you are a greedy beast who will destroy the traditions of Naniwa University and the dignity of medicine."
At this point, she suddenly took half a step forward.
It was an action of wanting to get close to the flames, but being afraid of getting burned.
She took off her glasses, and in her clear eyes reflected a kind of suppressed longing.
"But—I don't think so."
Rie stared straight into the void before her, her voice becoming unusually clear, as if she were speaking to herself, or perhaps to the man's soul: "Beasts only bite to survive."
"But what I saw was a person carrying all desires, running desperately on the edge of a cliff."
"Aren't you afraid? If you stop—you'll be smashed to pieces."
She asked this last question very softly, with a sense of pity, and also with an impulse she herself was unaware of—an impulse to touch the edge of that precipice.
"call----"
Director Hiroshi Nishitani let out a long sigh of relief, gently tapping his pen on the table.
He wasn't as excited as when he praised Kuroki Hitomi earlier, but his eyes became very serious.
He turned his head to look at the screenwriter, Inoue Yumiko, beside him, and said in a low voice, "Let's revise Saeko's script a little. If it were this actress—she might be able to carry a more profound subplot."
Yumiko Inoue nodded, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes: "Indeed. I originally thought she was just a pretty face, but I didn't expect her to understand this logic. She acted the subtext of 'wanting to rebel against her father' very well."
Sitting in the middle, Kitahara Shin looked at Rie, who had regained her smile, and was somewhat surprised.
This girl really learned a lot at Akina Horikoshi High School.
She perfectly projected her rebellious feelings towards her controlling mother onto the theme of "Azuma Saeko's rebellion against her father".
"good."
Kitahara Shin picked up his pen, circled her name, then looked up, smiled, and said, "Thank you for your hard work, Rie. Go and rest for a bit."
"Yes! Thank you, judges!"
Rie Miyazawa's aloof demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a bright smile. She winked at Shin Kitahara and then obediently stepped aside.
Next up is Nanako Matsushima.
"I...I am Nanako Matsushima————"
Nanako stammered as she introduced herself, "The role I auditioned for is that of Kameyama Kimiko."
The key nurse who appears throughout the series and witnesses the truth about the medical malpractice.
Compared to Rie's composure, Nanako was clearly extremely nervous.
She stood there, at a loss, her eyes darting around.
"I...I am Nanako Matsushima————"
Nanako stammered as she introduced herself, her voice dry with nervousness, "Audition role: Kameyama Kimiko."
Compared to Rie Miyazawa's stunning performance, Nanako clearly hadn't found her footing yet. She stood there, unsure of what to do, her eyes darting around. Her 1.72-meter height seemed like a burden, making her feel like a conspicuous target.
However, the expected doubts and whispers did not materialize.
"Hehe, no need to be so nervous."
The producer from Kyodo News had a warm smile on his face and spoke in a gentle tone, almost like coaxing a kindergarten child: "Since you were brought here personally by Kitahara-san, you must have something special about you. Even if it's your first audition, that's okay. We can give you more time to prepare."
Producer Da Liang nodded in agreement, took a sip of his tea, and said with a smile, "Yes, Ms. Matsushima is so beautiful; just standing there, she already perfectly embodies the 'campus beauty' archetype. Take your time, take a deep breath, we're not in a rush."
this is the truth.
With the prestigious reputation of "Kitahara Office" and the fact that Kitahara Shin himself was sitting on the core judging panel, these producers, who are usually picky and harsh on newcomers, showed unprecedented patience and tolerance at this moment.
This blatant "privilege" treatment only made Nanako more panicked.
She wasn't the kind of person who took privileges for granted. The more polite the people around her were, the heavier her guilt became—feelings of "I don't deserve it" and "I'm just a pretty face who got in through connections."
—Everyone is doing this out of respect for Mr. Xin.
If I mess up the performance, I will not only lose face for myself, but also for Xinjun.
The immense psychological pressure made her even more rigid. She subconsciously raised her head and looked at Kitahara Shin in the center of the long table, trying to seek some comfort or encouragement from the person she knew best.
however.
The moment her gaze met Kitahara Shin's, the last glimmer of hope in her heart vanished.
She didn't see the teacher she had expected, the one who smiled gently and said "Keep it up."
Kitahara Shin sat behind the long table, leaning back slightly with his hands crossed and resting on his chin.
Those eyes held not a trace of a smile.
It was a stern, critical, and even condescending gaze filled with impatience.
That wasn't Kitahara Shin looking at Matsushima Nanako.
That was Goro Zaizen, watching a clumsy intern nurse in the operating room who was only causing trouble.
"What are you daydreaming about? If you can't hold the equipment properly, get out of here."
Although Kitahara Shin didn't say anything, Nanako instantly filled in the blank with that line in her mind.
Nanako's heart skipped a beat, and she felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head.
The other producers were smiling at her, showing her false kindness.
Only her teacher, only Kitahara Shin, was staring at her with that almost cruel gaze.
If it were the Nanako from before who loved to cry, she would probably be crying right now, scared out of her wits.
But oddly enough.
The moment she met that gaze, a strange switch within her, honed through hundreds of insults in the underground theater, was suddenly and forcefully activated.
That was a kind of stress response that arose after being "spurred on" by Kitahara Shin.
Or perhaps, it's a kind of indomitable spirit that erupts when someone is driven to the brink, a desire to prove them wrong.
A teacher was watching me.
We must not embarrass him. Absolutely not.
Nanako took a deep breath, and her trembling legs suddenly tensed up.
She closed her eyes, her fingers instinctively reaching for the headband on her head—even though she hadn't worn it for the audition today, that gesture had become her "ritual" for getting into character.
The "Kitahara-style self-hypnosis technique," which he had practiced countless times late at night in the underground theater while watching videotapes, was activated once again.
In the past, she had hypnotized herself into the omnipotent Kitahara Shin.
But not today.
Because that powerful, fearsome, all-powerful "god" was sitting right across from her.
She doesn't need to imagine the feeling of oppression.
The oppressive feeling was there, pressing down on her head with a tangible weight.
I am Guishan Junzi.
I am a small, weak nurse who has to depend on power for survival.
But I was also the only one who saw that god's hands stained with blood.
Three seconds later.
When Nanako Matsushima opened her eyes again.
The bewildered newcomer disappeared.
Director Hiroshi Nishitani was about to pick up his water glass to drink when he suddenly stopped in mid-air.
He saw that the beautiful girl who had previously just stood there stiffly had changed her expression.
She didn't speak, but slightly hunched her shoulders, her eyes becoming somewhat evasive, not daring to look directly ahead, yet she couldn't help but secretly lift her eyelids, cautiously glancing in Kitahara Shin's direction.
That look in her eyes was filled with fear of authority, admiration for the man before her, and a trace of unease hidden deep within her conscience.
Let's begin.
"
Kitahara Shin coldly uttered three words.
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