Chapter 17: A Man Can't Have Empty Pocketsi
Though it sounded a bit silly and chuunibyou-ish, there was no doubt it would attract attention.
Having cleared his thoughts, Hikaru Hoshino stood up from the curb. After such a long period of "Asian squatting," his legs had gone numb, and his body swayed as he rose. Passing schoolgirls pointed and whispered at him, seemingly wondering why someone so handsome was moping alone in such a decadent state.
He waved his hand and hailed a taxi. Realizing he still had a manager, he decided to head over to Keigo Miura's place. The driver quickly crushed out his cigarette, rolled the windows down all the way, nodded, and started driving.
Hikaru knocked on his manager's door and waited nearly three minutes before Keigo Miura finally shuffled over in slippers. Yawning, he invited Hikaru inside.
"So this is what you look like in private?" Hikaru asked, quite surprised.
"When I'm not working, I'm going to be as comfortable as possible," Miura said lazily. "And thanks to you, my workload has dropped significantly lately. It's been quite a relief."
"Oh? How so?" Hikaru grew interested.
"The news of your amnesia is out. The theatrical company decided to bench you for a while to observe. I've been reassigned to handle some newcomers; my workload has been cut in half." Miura sighed. "Ah, what a relaxing life. I can't even remember why I was working so hard before."
Miura plopped down onto a brown leather sofa, lit a cigarette, and offered one to Hikaru. When Hikaru declined, Miura looked surprised. "That's strange. Kamiki, didn't you used to smoke like a chimney? What, you quit just like that? Well, it's for the best. You aren't even twenty yet, after all."
"If I wanted to terminate my contract with the theater troupe, what would the conditions be?" Hikaru didn't address the smoking; he got straight to the point.
"You want to leave the troupe?" Keigo Miura squinted at him.
"Yes. Please tell me the price of termination."
"Well, the price is more than you can afford." The stocky man on the sofa wore a mischievous grin. "The answer is..."
"There is no price."
Miura shrugged. "Your contract is about to expire anyway. If you don't plan on renewing, you'll be a free agent soon. Probably in a week or two."
"By the way, didn't you go to the theater for a screen test? How was it? Still want to stay in this line of work? The prop room seems to be missing a few things—I assume it wasn't you. Well, even if it was, it doesn't matter; they were just worthless old junk. A new actor is joining the cast soon; if you come back now, you can use the newer, more expensive props immediately."
Hikaru leaned away, trying to keep his distance from the heavy smoker. "I have zero talent for acting. If I did, I wouldn't be thinking about quitting. Give me a break."
"If you change your mind, remember to call me."
Accompanied by Miura's farewell, Hikaru left the apartment and returned to his little "nest" in Chiyoda District.
In a metropolis like this, having a place to stay was quite nice. Hikaru silently thanked Kamiki for preparing this apartment in advance; otherwise, sleeping on the streets would have been miserable. He had already spent two nights here, but he hadn't yet taken a proper look at his home. He had been too busy rescuing Ai and managing the concert; by the time he got home at night, he was exhausted and would just collapse into bed.
Taking a close look now, Kamiki's place... was actually decorated quite well.
Hikaru rubbed the few stiff whiskers that had sprouted on his chin over the last two days, wearing a "jackpot" expression.
While it paled in comparison to Ai's two-story luxury villa, it was a respectable piece of real estate for Tokyo. Two bedrooms and a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom—with a small bathtub to boot. The windows all faced south, currently covered by pale blue curtains. The decor was Nordic style, with an off-white sofa that felt like a soft cloud—much better than the one at his manager's place.
Two bedrooms: one for sleeping, and one to serve as a study.
*Not bad. Too bad I'm already spoiled by Ai's place.*
Since there was a bathtub, Hikaru saw no reason to let it go to waste. Stripping off his clothes, he lay comfortably in the narrow tub. Even though he couldn't fully stretch his limbs, he felt a fleeting sense of happiness.
*The Japanese obsession with soaking in the bath makes sense after all.*
Hikaru reviewed today's progress.
The good news: Kamiki's contract was almost up, which meant he was basically free to develop as he pleased.
The bad news: Without a company, he had to do everything himself.
Hikaru Kamiki would likely have been preparing to establish his "Kamiki Productions" early on. But with only 500 million yen in savings? Hikaru Hoshino couldn't wrap his head around it. That might seem like a lot of money, but in this industry, it wasn't even enough for a down payment to start a rival agency. When he first arrived in this world, he had briefly considered buying out Strawberry Pro, only to realize his capital was nowhere near enough.
Perhaps he had transmigrated too early and Kamiki hadn't saved enough yet, or perhaps the man had hidden "private stash" funds elsewhere.
Unexpectedly, he had returned to the most clichéd of problems.
Hikaru sighed and submerged his head beneath the water.
*No money in my pockets.*
As for the universality of this problem, 90% of people fall into this struggle. Capitalists are a minority in this society; in any country, the majority are just ordinary "corporate slaves."
—*How to make money fast?*
"All the ways to make quick money are written in the *Criminal Law*."
"Never mind then."
How does an ordinary person make money? Study hard, improve skills, find a good job? Buy a lottery ticket for a one-shot turnaround? Or invest in stocks and lose everything?
Unfortunately, Hikaru Hoshino was no ordinary person. He was a transmigrator with a photographic memory in a world with a similar history but vastly different copyrights.
"Copying" entertainment works was a great way to gain fame, but the money came in too slowly. Investing in Bitcoin might be viable; in 2019, the price was around $3,500, still in a trough. If he bought a massive amount and sold it at the end of 2021 for $68,000 or more, it would be a 20-fold return. A famous person once said that for 100% profit, capital will trample all human laws; for 300%, it will commit any crime, even at the risk of the gallows. A 20-fold increase... should be enough to buy Strawberry Pro.
But Hikaru wasn't satisfied with just that. Since he knew the wave was coming, he had to ride it as hard as possible. Simply put, his current capital was too low; he needed to increase his chips.
*Within this year, I should gather at least 10 billion yen as seed money. Then, ride the Bitcoin wave to become a top-tier billionaire in the country...*
*Feels like a pipe dream.* Hikaru began to deadpan at his own thoughts.
First, 10 billion yen was hard to raise. Second, in such a wave, the "zaibatsu" (conglomerates) would certainly intervene; if he was noticed with such a large volume, his personal safety might not even be guaranteed. Finally, even if he multiplied it 20 times... it didn't seem like much compared to the true top-tier conglomerates.
By Hikaru's estimate, if you counted all their various industries, the top conglomerate in Japan—the Shinomiya Zaibatsu—had a market value of roughly 20 trillion yen. It was the difference between a firefly and the full moon—a bloody reminder that an ordinary person didn't even amount to a single hair on a zaibatsu's body.
*Eh? Wait, did I forget something?*
Hikaru continued calculating the gap and the time and money needed for his plan. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck, leaving him frozen in place.
*The top conglomerate in Japan... is called Shinomiya?*