"Precise positioning?"
"Who is the core audience for late-night slots right now?" Takuya Nakayama raised a finger. "Traders from Kabutocho, corporate executives, and salarymen working late. These people are intelligent and have a deep understanding of society. If you show them romance and melodrama, they'll find it childish. We need to give them realistic themes—the more hardcore, the better."
Nakagawa Jun pondered, not interrupting.
"For example, corporate acquisitions, workplace struggles, the inner workings of the bureaucracy. We could even produce semi-documentary-style business dramas," Takuya suggested, listing a few examples. "As long as we can make them empathize and see themselves in the stories, this crowd will be glued to their TV screens. This will completely secure our audience base."
Nakagawa Jun nodded repeatedly, then sighed.
"Good content is manageable—we just need to pay good screenwriters to write it. But how do we maintain the advertising revenue? The fact that The Greed of Men attracted so many retail investors to buy hedge funds was a pure fluke. Retail financial products can't be aggressively advertised on TV all year round. Once this financial storm passes, the advertisers will definitely cut their budgets."
Nakayama Hayao, who had been silent all along, also looked at Nakayama Takuya. This was precisely what he was curious about. After all, TV stations relied on GG fees to survive. Without GG Merchants paying up, even the highest ratings would only mean losing money while gaining fame.
Nakayama Takuya leaned back, crossing his arms in front of him, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.
"Father-in-law, who said TV GGs can only be sold to ordinary consumers?"
Nakagawa Jun froze.
Nakayama Takuya sat up straight and dropped a bombshell that could overturn the entire television industry.
"Since we've filtered the late-night audience to be corporate executives, bosses, and decision-makers, why not sell the GGs directly to companies that provide corporate services?"
"You mean—"
"B2B," Nakayama Takuya uttered the term. "Business-to-Business."
He looked at Nakagawa Jun and Nakayama Hayao, and began to explain in detail.
"For example, a financial institution specializing in corporate pension solutions, or a company that leases large-scale office equipment..."
"...or a company specializing in tax optimization. How do they usually find clients? They rely on salespeople knocking on doors one by one. It's incredibly inefficient. Let alone the boss—they can't even get an audience with the section chief in charge of the relevant work."
Nakagawa Jun's head snapped up, his teacup frozen halfway to his lips, his pupils slightly dilated.
"But things are different now. These bosses and executives are all sitting in front of their TVs at 11:30 every night, watching our shows." Takuya Nakayama tapped the table with his finger, the crisp sound echoing as if striking a chord in their hearts. "During the commercial breaks, we run a sixty-second customized ad. It emphasizes 'designed specifically for medium-sized enterprises,' 'significantly reduce tax costs,' and 'improve employee satisfaction.' What do you think these bosses and corporate elites will do after seeing that?"
The folding fan in Nakayama Hayao's hand stopped completely. As the President of Sega, he knew all too well the devastating power of such an ad.
The old man took a deep breath, a hint of undisguised shock in his eyes as he looked at his son.
"If I saw an ad like that, and it happened to hit my company's pain points," Nakayama Hayao said, his voice deep and tinged with a businessman's keen intuition, "I'd call my purchasing manager into my office the next morning and tell him to contact that company."
Takuya Nakayama snapped his fingers.
"Exactly! This is like implanting the service directly into the minds of the decision-makers. When these people are reviewing approvals, seeing this company means they won't immediately rule it out as an option. This isn't just a regular TV ad—it's precision-targeted lead generation for high-value clients!"
Nakagawa Jun slapped his thigh so hard the teacup on the table jumped.
A few drops of tea splashed onto the wooden surface, but he was oblivious, his mind racing with the sheer brilliance of this business logic.
"Genius! Absolutely genius!" The fatigue on Nakagawa Jun's face vanished, replaced by unconcealed ecstasy. "The profit margins on these enterprise-level services are astronomical. A single deal could be worth thousands, tens of thousands, or even hundreds of millions of yen. If we can accurately reach the decision-makers, they'll pay a premium for our ad slots!"
Takuya Nakayama nodded in agreement.
"B2B advertising in the current television industry is practically a blank slate. Other networks have audiences that are too broad, making this kind of ad a complete waste of money. But TV Tokyo's late-night slots are different—the audience purity here is incredibly high. By providing such a perfectly targeted platform, we're creating a win-win situation for those enterprise service providers."
Takuya took a sip of barley tea to clear his throat before continuing.
"Not only can we set the ad fees higher, but we'll also build incredibly strong client loyalty. Once they land a few deals and see the results, they'll pour their entire next-year ad budget into TV Tokyo. Other related companies will follow suit, fighting to secure our late-night slots. By then, even if Fuji TV pulls out all the stops in the Golden Time Slot, they won't be able to shake our profit foundation."
Nakagawa Jun shot to his feet and began pacing back and forth on the wooden floor. His mind was already racing, calculating which major enterprise service providers to contact and how to package this entirely new advertising concept.
He watched Takuya Nakayama sitting there with such casual ease, marveling inwardly: What's this kid's brain made of? This kind of dimensionality reduction strike is just absolutely crushing the traditional TV people!
Nakayama Hayao stared at his youngest son, his own heart churning.
The boy had just casually thrown out a business idea that completely upended the traditional TV-GG model. This ruthless commercial instinct and problem-solving ability were something even he, an old man who had fought his way through the business world for over half his life, had to admire.
Nakagawa Jun stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Takuya Nakayama.
"I'll call the GG Department right now and have them immediately compile a list of enterprise-level service providers." Nakagawa Jun acted with lightning speed, all his earlier hesitation gone. "Fuji TV can do whatever the hell they want with the fall season. I'm going to build TV Tokyo's moat in the late-night slot!"
But before three minutes had passed, the excitement on Nakagawa Jun's face vanished, and his smile faded.
He slumped back down onto the cushion, his brow furrowed into a tight knot.
"That's not right," Nakagawa Jun said, scratching his head in frustration. "The B2B GG model is great, and we already have the client list. But how do we get our foot in the door?"
Takuya Nakayama tossed the remaining watermelon rind into the trash can, pulled a tissue, and slowly wiped his hands.
Nakagawa Jun counted the time on his fingers.
"The autumn season starts next month. If we start looking for screenwriters now, then assemble a crew and start filming, we'll be way too late.
Besides, the writers at the station are great at pure romance. The male and female leads running wildly in the rain, finally embracing and weeping under Tokyo Tower—housewives will be watching with tears streaming down their faces. But you want these people to write a hardcore business war? Write about hostile corporate takeovers? They can't even read a financial statement!"
Nakagawa Jun's tone grew more contemptuous as he spoke.
"Even if they forced themselves to write it, the ending would definitely be a happy one. The protagonist would use truth, goodness, and beauty to reform the villain, and everyone would sit in an izakaya, drink a cup of sake, and laugh away their grudges. The traders in Kabutocho, who are slaughtering each other in the stock market all day, would watch this kind of heartwarming drama at night? They'd call the station's complaint hotline and curse it into oblivion!"
Nakayama Hayao snorted from the side.
"The business world doesn't have so many reconciliations. If you lose, you jump off a building; if you win, you take it all. Those Japanese screenwriters have never even sat at the table. Everything they write is utterly petty," the old man said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
Nakagawa Jun sighed and turned to Takuya Nakayama.
"Since you've already dug the hole, I assume you've got the dirt ready to fill it in, right?" Nakagawa Jun leaned in closer, his eyes filled with anticipation.
Takuya Nakayama smiled and took a sip of the gyokuro tea on the table.
"If Japanese screenwriters can't write that kind of dark drama, then we'll just keep buying from abroad."
"Buying from Hong Kong Island again?" Nakagawa Jun perked up.
Takuya Nakayama nodded.
"When our own production can't keep up, buying content to fill the gaps is a good strategy. TVB has two dramas—one called Looking Back in Anger and another called The Justice of Life." Takuya Nakayama recited the titles. "The core selling point of these two dramas can be summed up in one word: ruthless."
Nakagawa Jun pricked up his ears.
"Take Looking Back in Anger, for example. There's a villain named Ding Youkang. To climb the corporate ladder, he personally pushes his adoptive mother off a train and poisons his wife's prenatal vitamins. To escape punishment, he'll even frame his own older brother."
Nakagawa Jun's scalp tingled as he gasped.
"Can... can they even broadcast this?"
"Why not? In The Greed of Men, Ting Hai threw his four sons off a building, and the ratings still broke records, didn't they?" Takuya Nakayama's tone was resolute. "No warmth, no mutual understanding. It's about brothers turning against each other, ruthlessly eliminating one another for profit. This kind of dark route, where ethical boundaries are ground into the dirt, is something domestic Japanese dramas simply wouldn't dare touch. But for the elites who understand Social Darwinism all too well, this logic is actually the most realistic—and exactly what they crave."
Nakagawa Jun nodded repeatedly.
The success of The Greed of Men had already proven that audiences weren't repulsed by such extreme plots; instead, they were utterly captivated.
Takuya Nakayama continued.
"There's also an Asia Television drama called The Silver Tycoon. That one's even more ruthless—it features an all-villain cast, without a single traditionally good person. They'll use any underhanded or vicious trick to climb the ladder. No moralizing, just naked exchanges of interest."
Nakagawa Jun's eyes lit up.
An all-villain cast?
This setup is bold enough to leave Japanese audiences absolutely stunned.
"The most crucial part is that this show features a massive amount of extremely professional, hardcore business warfare," Takuya Nakayama emphasized, his voice growing heavier. "Futures hedging, short selling, manipulating stock prices through the media. I heard the scriptwriter brought in a veteran financial journalist as a consultant and adapted it from real Hong Kong stock market cases from the early nineties."
Nakagawa Jun slapped his thigh hard.
"Excellent! This is exactly what we need! It'll perfectly carry on the financial drama style of The Greed of Men." Nakagawa Jun's voice rose an octave in excitement. "The Southeast Asian financial crisis has everyone on edge right now. If we put this show in a late-night slot, we won't even need to promote it. They'll be glued to their TVs right on schedule."
Takuya Nakayama turned, grabbed a notepad and a fountain pen from a nearby low cabinet, and uncapped the pen.
Scritch, scritch.
A few drama titles quickly appeared on the paper.
After writing them, Takuya didn't immediately hand over the note. Instead, his pen paused, and he added two more names below.
"Besides Hong Kong dramas, there are some great titles from Europe too."
Nakagawa Jun leaned in to take a look.
"Yes, Minister? Yes, Prime Minister? British shows?"
Takuya Nakayama capped his fountain pen, tore the slip of paper off the pad, and handed it to Nakagawa.
"These two are British political comedies. They're incredibly sharp, incredibly satirical. They show exactly how bureaucrats manipulate the Prime Minister and how the Prime Minister schemes for votes. They strip politicians' hypocritical undergarments completely bare."
Nakagawa took the paper, his expression hesitant.
"A political drama? Does that kind of thing even get any ratings? Besides, Britain's political system is different from Japan's. Will the audience even understand it?"
Takuya leaned against a pillar, his voice brimming with confidence.
"Of course not if we broadcast it normally. But we have to pick the right time. For example, right when the mudslinging during a general election is at its peak, or when the Cabinet is hit by a scandal and the public's trust in the government is at rock bottom. Don't forget, the recent entertainment scandal involving the Ministry of Finance bureaucrats has been all over the news."
Nakagawa's mind raced.
The Japanese political scene had seen a revolving door of prime ministers over the last two years. The bureaucracy was ossified, and scandals were flying everywhere. The public was seething with frustration, with no way to vent it.
"Streaming the drama isn't enough," Takuya Nakayama continued, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Doesn't TV Tokyo have a bunch of current affairs and financial programs? We could do a crossover. The day after an episode airs, we feature it in a current affairs interview. Bring in a few outspoken experts to use the plot points as a springboard to analyze real-world Japanese political events, breaking them down for the audience. For example, if the drama depicts bureaucrats hiding a budget, the experts could directly cite the Ministry of Finance scandals."
Nakagawa Jun gasped.
This is too ruthless.
It was like using a British drama to slap Japanese politicians in the face.
The social elites and corporate executives dissatisfied with the political climate would absolutely treat this show as a masterpiece. It would even spark a nationwide wave of discussion.
"You're a genius, kid!" Nakagawa Jun carefully folded the sticky note, tucked it into his shirt pocket, and patted it twice as if he were carrying a legendary military treatise.
The autumn season dilemma that had plagued him for days had been effortlessly solved by a few foreign-bought dramas and a well-executed strategy.
Nakagawa Jun let out a long sigh of relief, his entire body relaxing as the days of exhaustion vanished.
He picked up the now-cold barley tea and drained the glass in one gulp.
"Alright! That's enough work for today." Nakagawa Jun stood up and stretched his arms wide, his joints popping with a satisfying series of cracks.
In the courtyard, Kazuki was chasing a dragonfly with a bug net, while Miki followed behind on her short little legs, babbling happily. The sunlight bathed them, a scene full of life.
Nakagawa Jun strode down the veranda, his face beaming with affection as he opened his arms wide to his granddaughter.
"Miki, Grandpa's here to help you catch bugs!"
Nakayama Hayao shook his head in resignation at his father-in-law's childlike enthusiasm. He popped a piece of wagashi into his mouth, his gaze shifting to Nakayama Takuya beside him, a flicker of barely perceptible pride crossing his eyes.
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