Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 32 Black Tuesday

In November, the wind along the coast of Chiba Prefecture is sharp and biting.

This is Makuhari, a new continent just "reclaimed" from Tokyo Bay. The air is thick with the pungent smell of the sea and the damp stench of cement dust. Gray waves relentlessly pound against the unfinished breakwater, producing a monotonous and dull crashing sound.

The rain wasn't heavy, but it was dense. It wasn't falling; it was drifting, seeping in. It crept up the collar and into the neck, down the cuffs and into the wrists, chilling even the bones to the bone.

On a vast construction site, a dozen yellow tower cranes stood motionless, their booms pointing in different directions, like giant, withered branches frozen in mid-air. Puddles of water dotted the ground, reflecting the gloomy sky.

"President Okura! You need an explanation today!"

"Our wages are three months overdue! Everyone's waiting to be paid!"

"Didn't the bank just release the loan to you? Where's the money? Where did it go?!"

In front of the temporary prefabricated houses at the construction site, dozens of men wearing hard hats and raincoats formed a circle. Their voices, scattered by the empty sea breeze, then gathered again, carrying a desperate anger.

In the center of the circle stood a middle-aged man.

Masao Okura.

Two months ago, at the anniversary celebration of Seiwa College, the head of Okura Real Estate was still wearing a custom-made Italian suit and his hair was neatly combed. Although he lost some face because of his daughter's failed auction, he was still the same domineering real estate tycoon.

At this moment, he looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.

His once-sharp suit was now soaked through by the rain, clinging to his body and revealing a slightly protruding belly. His expensive crocodile leather shoes were deeply embedded in the yellow mud, and his trouser legs were covered in mud splatters.

"Listen to me, everyone... listen to me..."

Masao Okura raised his hands, his voice hoarse, trying to drown out the surrounding noise.

"It's not that they won't give the money... it's just that the bank's process is stuck. Sumitomo says they need to reassess the assets, and once the assessment is complete, the funds will be released immediately..."

"fart!"

A burly foreman slammed his hard hat to the ground, splashing mud and water everywhere.

"My cousin drives for Sumitomo Bank! He said your Okura family has been put on a 'watch list'! The bank is preparing to withdraw loans! How long are you going to keep lying to us?"

The moment the words "withdraw loan" were uttered, the crowd erupted in uproar.

In this era reliant on credit expansion, for real estate developers, withdrawing loans means certain death.

People started shoving and pushing, and some tried to grab Okura by the collar. Okura's secretary and driver desperately tried to block them, but were quickly swept away by the angry crowd. Okura Masao was pushed backward, stepped into a deep puddle, and almost fell.

Embarrassed.

Extremely disheveled.

Less than fifty meters from this farce, a black Nissan Presidential Sedan was quietly parked on a concrete slab.

The windshield wipers swung rhythmically, "swish, swish, swish," wiping away the rain on the windshield and cutting the view ahead into silent films.

Inside the car, the heating was on full blast.

The center armrest in the back seat was lowered, and on it sat a pot of steaming Earl Grey tea and two exquisite bone china cups.

Shuichi picked up his teacup and looked through the rain at the man struggling in the mud.

"That was truly tragic."

Xiu Yi sighed softly.

He knew Masao Okura. Although they weren't close, they had drunk together at several business association parties. Okura was a shrewd, arrogant man who liked to talk loudly and always boasted about how much land he had bought in Chiba and how big an amusement park he planned to build in the future.

And now, that man is being besieged like a drowning dog.

"Satsuki," Shuichi turned to his daughter sitting beside him, "aren't we going to do anything?"

Satsuki was wearing a dark turtleneck sweater with a camel-colored coat over it, and a blanket was draped over her legs. She was holding a book and didn't look up when she heard her father's words.

"What are you going to do?"

"This plot of land," Shuichi pointed out the window, "although construction has stopped, the plans for the Makuhari area are still in place. The government intends to develop this area into a new sub-center. The plot that Okura holds is in a prime location, 15,000 tsubo (approximately 16,667 square meters). If we can acquire it now at a low price..."

As a businessman, Shuichi's instincts told him that this might be a chance to snag a bargain.

"What price is considered low?"

Satsuki closed the book, finally raised her head, and looked over the rain to the crowd that was still arguing.

"Okura initially acquired the land for 300,000 per ping (3.3 square meters). Now, with the initial infrastructure investment, his costs are at least 6 billion."

"If we go to talk to him now, he might beg and plead to sell the land to us, as long as we take on his six billion dollar bank debt."

Shuichi thought for a moment: "Six billion for 15,000 pings... If it's for the future, it's definitely a good deal."

That is the 'future'.

Satsuki stretched out a finger and gently tapped the fogged-up car window.

"Father, do you know what 'catching a flying knife' means?"

"Throwing knife?"

"A knife that fell from a great height. Although it is made of pure gold, if you reach out to catch it before it hits the ground, it will cut your palm and sever your arteries."

Satsuki's voice was calm, as if she were stating a physical law.

"Okura Realty's current debt ratio is 400%. This land has not only been mortgaged to Sumitomo Bank, but also mortgaged a second time to Nongrin Kinko Bank, and there may even be underground high-interest loans involved."

"If we take over now, we'll not only have to pay him money, but also deal with his tangled web of debts."

"The workers' wages, the suppliers' payments, the bank's interest, and those loan sharks who are like hungry wolves... they will all pounce on the Saionji family."

Satsuki shook her head.

"That's so stupid."

"Why should we take the bullet for him?"

Xiu paused for a moment, then asked, "So... you're just going to watch like this?"

"Watch."

Satsuki picked up the book again and turned a page.

"Wait until he's completely dead."

"Wait until the banks completely lose patience and file for bankruptcy liquidation in court. Then the land will be sealed off and become a non-performing asset that no one wants."

"By then, all debt relationships will be severed by law. We will only have to deal with one creditor—the bank that is eager to recover its funds."

"Back then, we didn't need to spend six billion."

"Perhaps two billion, or even one billion, would be enough to acquire this land cleanly."

As Xiu Yi listened to his daughter's words, he felt a chill run down his spine.

This is a completely different way of thinking from that of traditional merchants. Traditional merchants emphasize "emergency relief" and "leaving a way out."

But in the daughter's logic, the word "compassion" did not exist.

Only efficiency. Absolute, unadulterated efficiency.

"Moreover," Satsuki added, "Mr. Okura is not desperate enough yet."

She pointed into the distance.

"Look, he's still wearing those crocodile-skin shoes. He's still trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, still fantasizing that the bank will keep him alive."

"As long as he still harbors illusions, he won't lower the price to rock bottom."

"What we are waiting for is the moment when he kneels on the ground and offers up his dignity and the land deed with both hands."

Shuichi followed his daughter's finger and looked in that direction.

Indeed, despite his disheveled state, Masao Okura continued to argue his case and tried to lure his creditors with his vague "grand plan".

He hasn't given up yet.

Just then, a white Mercedes sports car sped into the construction site.

The car was driving very fast, its tires kicking up mud and water up to waist height, and it suddenly stopped on the outskirts of the crowd.

The passenger door opened.

A girl in a pink trench coat rushed down.

Okura Masami.

Holding a long, transparent umbrella, she stumbled and rushed toward the crowd, ignoring the mud on the ground.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Her voice was sharp and mournful, tinged with sobs.

"Get out of my way! You barbarians! Stay away from my father!"

She tried to push aside the workers surrounding her and hold the umbrella over her father's head.

But this is not the ivory tower of St. Hua Academy, nor is it that "Rose Salon" filled with the scent of perfume. This is the real world, filled with the stench of sweat and the pressure of survival.

"Where did this rich girl come from? Get out of here!"

A contractor, who was in a fit of anger, casually pushed it away.

"what!"

Yamei let out a cry of surprise, her high heels twisted, and she fell heavily into the mud.

That was her favorite Chanel suit. The pink trench coat instantly turned grayish-black, and the transparent umbrella was trampled underfoot, its ribs broken like a dead bird.

"Yami!"

When Masao Okura saw his daughter fall, he frantically pushed through the crowd and rushed over to help her up.

"Why are you here? Who let you come?!" Okura roared, his voice a mixture of heartache and shame.

Seeing his beloved daughter in this wretched state was more painful than death for him.

"Daddy... Waaaaah..."

Yamei's face was covered in mud, but she didn't bother to wipe it off. She just hugged her father's arm and cried.

"Mom fainted at home...the bank people unplugged the phone line...and they're going to move the piano away..."

The surrounding workers, witnessing this scene, quieted down their previously noisy shouts and curses.

After all, they are all people with families, and seeing this scene, they felt a little uncomfortable.

But that's about it.

Compassion doesn't put food on the table. They also have wives and children at home waiting for food to be cooked.

"President Okura, stop playing the victim!"

"If we don't have money today, we'll dismantle this machine and sell it for scrap!"

The noise resumed.

Yami huddled in her father's arms like a frightened quail. She looked up, her tear-filled eyes darting around helplessly.

Suddenly, her gaze pierced through the gaps in the crowd and through the dense rain, settling on the black sedan in the distance.

That was a Nissan President.

The golden, sun-like emblem on the front of the car stood out starkly against the gloomy, rainy day.

Yami was stunned.

She recognized the emblem.

That's the crest of the Saionji family.

That was the opponent she had suffered a crushing defeat against at the school's anniversary celebration.

The car windows were not tinted.

She could vaguely see that there were two people sitting in the back seat.

A middle-aged man was holding a teacup, looking over here with a pained expression.

And another one...

The figure in the camel coat held a book, her profile calm and serene. She didn't even look this way, simply gazing quietly at the pages, as if everything happening outside was irrelevant to her, like watching a silent film through thick glass.

That kind of tranquility.

That kind of detached, aloof calm.

What devastated Yami even more than the ridicule was the mockery.

"Satsuki..."

Yamei muttered to herself, her nails digging deep into her father's flesh.

A wave of shame surged from her feet to her head like lava, making her tremble all over.

She wanted to stand up, rush over to confront them, or run away.

But she twisted her ankle, and her mud-covered high heels seemed to be glued to the ground, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pull them off.

She could only sit slumped in the mud, letting the rain wash away her exquisite makeup, revealing a pale and desperate face.

inside the car.

Shuichi noticed Masami's gaze.

"She saw us." Xiu put down his teacup. "Should we... lend her a hand? After all, she's your classmate."

"help?"

Satsuki finally turned her head and glanced at the mud-covered girl outside the window.

"How can I help her? Should I get off the bus and give her an umbrella? Or should I give her a check?"

"Father, that is an insult to her."

Satsuki's voice was flat and emotionless.

"For her now, being seen by us is the greatest punishment."

She looked away and pressed the intercom button on the car door armrest.

"Fujita, drive."

"Yes, Miss."

Fujita started the engine from the driver's seat.

The V8 engine emitted a deep roar, like the howl of a wild beast. The black car slowly started moving, its tires rolling over the puddles and splashing up a fan-shaped spray of water.

The car did not approach the crowd, but instead made an elegant arc and turned around to drive onto the main road.

As she passed the puddle, the splashing muddy water didn't touch Yami, but the gust of air still made her instinctively close her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, she only saw the taillights of the car driving away.

The red taillights cast two long streaks of light in the rain and mist, like some kind of mocking symbol.

"dad……"

Yamei clutched her father's soaked sleeve, her voice trembling.

"Are we... finished?"

Masao Okura held his daughter, watching the direction in which the luxury car belonging to the Saionji family had disappeared.

He recognized the car. He also knew who was inside.

Six months ago, he might have rushed over to stop the car and begged Shuichi Saionji to help him.

But now, looking at the mud under my feet and then at the spotless car body of the other person.

The immense, suffocating contrast left him without the courage to even open his mouth.

"It's okay...it's okay..."

Masao Okura muttered to himself, as if comforting his daughter or hypnotizing himself.

"As long as the rain stops... as long as the rain stops, that's all that matters..."

However, the rain got heavier and heavier.

The icy rain poured in from all directions, completely submerging the once glorious father and daughter in the desolate swamp of Chiba Prefecture.

inside the car.

Satsuki never looked back.

She turned a page of a book, a biography about the rise of the Morgan family.

The sound of pages turning was particularly clear in the quiet carriage.

"Father."

She suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

"Remember that look."

"Which one?"

"The way Masami Okura looked at us just now."

Satsuki's fingers lightly traced across the pages of the book.

"That was jealousy, resentment, and fear."

"The Okura family paid billions of yen for this course. We were auditors and didn't pay a single penny."

"Therefore, we need to study even more diligently."

She closed the book and looked ahead at the road that was constantly being cleared and blurred again by the windshield wipers.

"Never let yourself get into that situation."

"Never leave your fate to the weather."

Xiu nodded. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the cold sweat that had appeared on his forehead without him noticing.

What he just witnessed was more terrifying than any horror movie.

"Let's go back to Tokyo."

Xiu Yi said, his voice sounding somewhat tired.

"I'd like a cup of hot sake."

"it is good."

Satsuki leaned back in the soft chair and closed her eyes.

Chopin's "Prelude to Raindrops" was playing from the stereo.

The piano tinkled softly, elegant...and melancholic.

This was late autumn of 1986.

Some people are suffocating in the mud, while others are listening to the rain in the warmth of a heater.