August in Tokyo felt like a boiling iron pot. The asphalt gave off a suffocating smell of tar, and even the cicadas' cries sounded listless.
But in Karuizawa, Nagano Prefecture, time seemed to slow to a gentle crawl.
The "Asama" limited express train passed through the final tunnel, and the scenery outside the window transformed instantly from reinforced concrete to lush larch forests. That unique, cool scent—a blend of moss and pine resin—seeped in through the gaps around the windows.
The Saionji family's black sedan was already waiting at the station.
The car left the bustling station square and headed deep into Old Karuizawa along the tree-lined road.
The roads here were narrow, flanked on both sides by towering dawn redwoods. Through gaps in the leaves, one could catch glimpses of Western-style villas with histories spanning decades or even a century. Most had been built during the Meiji and Taisho eras by foreign missionaries and Japanese kazoku. Their wooden siding had weathered to a deep brown, and their roofs were thick with moss.
This was the territory of "Old Money"—silent, shaded, and exuding a cold aloofness that warned strangers to keep their distance.
"It's still more comfortable here."
Saionji Shuichi rolled down the window and took a deep breath of the cool air. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and a hint of ease finally appeared on his face, which always looked tense in Tokyo.
Satsuki sat beside him, holding a white domed straw hat.
"Father, even the air here is sweet," she said softly, watching the passing greenery outside the window.
"Is that so? I'm glad you like it." Seeing his daughter sitting so properly beside him, Shuichi couldn't help but pat her head.
The weather in Tokyo had been unbearably hot lately, so Shuichi had made time to bring his daughter to Karuizawa to escape the heat.
The car rounded a bend, and a two-story wooden Western-style house came into view.
This was the Saionji family's villa, "Tingsong Villa." Built in the early Showa era, it lacked the modern facilities of today's luxury hotels, but the service from its dozen or so dedicated servants was certainly no less attentive. Moreover, hidden deep within the mountain forests, its quiet and secluded atmosphere was something the steel jungle of Tokyo could never match.
However, this tranquility was soon broken.
"Rumble—"
A dull mechanical roar echoed from the nearby hillside, startling a flock of birds from the trees.
Shuichi frowned. "Where is that construction? I recall this area is a restricted building zone—high-rises aren't allowed."
The butler in the front seat, Fujita, turned around with a hint of helplessness. "Sir, it's the Seibu Group. They bought the mountain behind us, saying they want to expand the Prince Hotel's ski resort and vacation village. That project has been going on for half a year, and they're hauling earth even through the night."
"Seibu…"
Shuichi muttered the name, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi.
In 1985 Japan, that name represented absolute wealth and power. As the head of the Seibu Group, he owned one-sixth of all the land in Japan and had even been named the "World's Richest Man" by Forbes magazine.
If the Saionji family represented the decaying old aristocracy, then Yoshiaki Tsutsumi was the new emperor waving wads of cash, ready to bulldoze the old world.
Satsuki got out of the car and stood on the gravel-paved path.
She looked up into the distance. Through the treetops, she could faintly see massive tower cranes and the gleaming "Prince Hotel" sign in the sunlight.
That glaring white was like a giant patch forcibly stuck onto this ancient forest.
"How greedy."
Satsuki pressed down the brim of her hat, a subtle, cold smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
Right now, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi was still frantically hoarding land. He believed prices would rise forever, and that if he bought up every mountain in Japan, he could build an eternal empire.
Soon, he would learn the truth. In five years, the very land he was so proud of would become the noose that strangled him…
Three in the afternoon.
As was his custom, Shuichi went to a nearby tennis court for some exercise.
The tennis courts in Karuizawa held special significance. It was here that Crown Prince Akihito had met Princess Michiko, enacting a real-life Cinderella fairy tale. Since then, the courts had become the core stage for high-society socializing.
Satsuki changed into a white tennis skirt, her hair tied in a high ponytail, looking vibrant and youthful. She had no intention of playing. Instead, she sat under a parasol by the court, sipping lemonade and watching her father swing his racket with a few old friends.
"Isn't that Mr. Saionji? I heard he's been making big moves in Osaka lately."
"Hardly—that's his younger brother's doing. I hear the Saionji family is just a hollow shell now…"
Idle gossip from the neighboring table drifted over on the breeze.
The speakers were two middle-aged men in flashy polo shirts, their gold watches dazzling in the sunlight. Their tennis skills were poor, but their voices were loud, and every third sentence involved "land prices" and "financing."
Satsuki nonchalantly stirred the ice cubes in her glass.
After the incident with Okura Masami, she had already developed an immunity to this nouveau riche aura.
Just then, a man wearing a dark blue suit and carrying a briefcase walked straight onto the tennis court.
In a place where everyone else was dressed for sport, his outfit looked completely out of place. But he didn't seem to care. His gaze scanned the area before locking onto Shuichi, who had just stepped off the court to rest.
"Mr. Saionji Shuichi?"
The man approached. He didn't bow, merely nodded slightly, then pulled a business card from his breast pocket and handed it over.
"I am Gonda, Deputy Manager of the Development Department at Seibu Land Development Co., Ltd."
Shuichi was wiping his sweat. At the word "Seibu," his movements paused. He took the card, glanced at it, and said coolly, "What can I do for you?"
Gonda wore a professional smile that carried the peculiar arrogance of a large conglomerate.
"It's like this, Mr. Saionji. Our president is very interested in the 'Tingsong Villa' under your name."
Gonda pointed toward the nearby hillside. "We plan to carry out an integrated development of this villa area to create a brand-new, world-class hot spring resort. Your villa happens to sit right on the central landscape belt of our plan."
Shuichi was stunned.
He had come here for a vacation, not to talk business. Moreover, that was ancestral property.
"I'm not selling." Shuichi casually placed the card on the table and took a sip from his water bottle. "That house was left by my grandfather. The Saionji family hasn't become so poor that we need to sell our ancestral home."
Gonda seemed to have anticipated the refusal. He wasn't angry. Instead, he pulled a checkbook from his briefcase.
"Mr. Saionji, please don't be so quick to refuse." Gonda uncapped his pen, his tone full of temptation. "We've investigated, and the current market appraisal for that villa is roughly eighty million yen. However, President Tsutsumi said that because the location is key, we are willing to pay double—one hundred and sixty million."
Several nearby friends who were resting gasped.
One hundred and sixty million yen. In 1985, this was an absolute fortune—more than enough to buy a luxury mansion even in Tokyo.
Gonda watched the reactions around him, the pride in his eyes growing. In his view, there was nothing money couldn't buy—especially from this faded old kazoku family.
"How about it? This price is very sincere." Gonda waved the pen in his hand. "As long as you nod, I can write the check right now."
Shuichi's hand tightened around his water bottle, his knuckles turning white.
This wasn't just about money. It was an insult. The other party didn't respect him at all, as if brushing off a beggar.
"Mr. Gonda," Shuichi suppressed his anger, his voice low, "I said I'm not selling. Please leave."
"Two hundred million."
Gonda stated a new figure directly, interrupting him.
"Mr. Saionji, one must know how to adapt to the times. The development plan for this area has already been approved. By then, the surroundings will be nothing but a construction site. With your villa caught in the middle, I'm afraid you won't be in much of a vacation mood, will you?"
This was a blatant threat.
Shuichi stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the ground.
Just as the situation was about to reach a stalemate…
"Two hundred million yen?"
A crisp voice interjected.
Satsuki, still holding her unfinished lemonade, walked over with light steps. She stood beside her father and looked up at the fleshy-faced Gonda.
"Mister, your arithmetic doesn't seem very good."
Gonda frowned at the little girl who had suddenly appeared. "Who are you?"
"I'm the 'manager' here." Satsuki pointed to her own nose with a smile. "I'm responsible for taking care of every tree and every stone in that villa."
She walked up to Gonda and pointed a finger at the mountain forest behind him.
"Mister, do you know why my grandfather built the villa there?"
Gonda asked subconsciously, "Why?"
"Because there's a well there." Satsuki's voice took on a mysterious tone. "Grandfather said it's the 'Dragon's Eye.' The Saionji family's fortune is entirely sustained by that well. If you fill it in and build a hotel…"
She paused, a flash of cunning in her eyes.
"Then that energy will have nowhere to go and will turn into 'Sha Qi'—malevolent energy. I heard the Seibu Group has been encountering strange occurrences at other construction sites lately… If something else goes wrong here, President Tsutsumi would probably be very unhappy, wouldn't he?"
Gonda was stunned.
Businessmen—especially those in real estate—were the most superstitious about feng shui. Although he felt the little girl was talking nonsense, looking into Satsuki's clear black-and-white eyes, for some reason he felt a bit unnerved.
"And," Satsuki changed the subject, pointing at the checkbook in Gonda's hand with innocent yet cruel disdain, "two hundred million yen? If our family accepted money so covered in cement dust, my grandfather would probably be so angry he'd crawl out of that well, wouldn't he?"
"Pfft."
Someone nearby finally couldn't hold back a laugh.
Gonda's face instantly turned the color of pig liver. He hadn't expected to be shut down by a slip of a girl using such superstitious talk.
"Fine… Fine!" Gonda gritted his teeth and put away the checkbook. "Since the Saionji family is so 'sentimental,' then we'll just wait and see! When the time comes and you're surrounded by high-rises, I'll see how you 'maintain your energy' then!"
With that, he turned and left in a huff, even forgetting to fasten the clasp on his briefcase.
Shuichi watched Gonda's pathetic retreating figure and let out a long sigh of relief.
He looked down at his daughter. Satsuki was nonchalantly sipping her lemonade through the straw as if nothing had happened.
"Satsuki," Shuichi laughed helplessly, "Dragon's Eye, Sha Qi… what kind of books have you been reading to come up with that nonsense?"
"It's called 'using magic to defeat magic.'" Satsuki blinked. "There's no use talking about sentiment to people whose heads are full of money, but talk to them about 'bad luck,' and they'll believe it more than anyone."
Shuichi shook his head, the gloom in his eyes dissipating somewhat.
"Still, two hundred million…" Shuichi remarked. "If it were a few years ago, I might have actually been tempted."
"What's two hundred million?"
Satsuki set down her glass and looked at the massive tower crane in the distance, her gaze turning cold.
"Father, we will buy that land back later."
"Not for two hundred million."
"Twenty million will be enough."
…
Night fell.
The night in Karuizawa was as cool as water.
On the second-floor terrace of Tingsong Villa, Shuichi and Satsuki lay on rattan chairs, enjoying the evening breeze.
In the surrounding forest, the chirping of insects rose and fell. If one didn't look into the distance, this truly was a paradise.
However, a slight glance upward revealed the searchlights of the Prince Hotel expansion site a few kilometers away, burning through the night. That intense white light pierced the darkness, dyeing half the sky a pale, dismal gray.
"Yoshiaki Tsutsumi is truly a madman."
Shuichi waved a cattail fan, staring at the lights. "I heard he wants to buy the land around Tokyo Tower, and even Hawaii and Paris. It's as if his money will never run out."
"That's the bank's money, not his."
Satsuki lay in the chair with her hands behind her head, looking at the starry sky that was somewhat dimmed by light pollution.
"Father, do you think land prices are expensive now?"
"Of course they are," Shuichi said. "Tokyo's land prices have risen absurdly; even here they've doubled."
"No, they're not expensive enough yet."
Satsuki's voice was light, yet it carried a chilling certainty.
"The current rise is just the appetizer. Once that 'Agreement' is signed, the yen will appreciate, exports will die, and to save itself, the government will frantically print money and drop interest rates to zero."
She reached out and made a grasping motion in the air.
"When that time comes, money will pour out like a flood. People will have cash in hand but won't dare invest in real industry; they'll only be able to buy land and stocks. That's when the true crazy surge begins."
Shuichi was alarmed. "Then… should we also buy some land?"
"Not now."
Satsuki turned her head to look at her father.
"We are waiting. Waiting for that flood to drown everyone, for land prices to rise to the heavens, and then come crashing down hard."
She pointed to the brightly lit construction site in the distance.
"Just like that site. As bright as it is now, that's how dark it will be later."
"What we need to do is use the US dollars we earned from shorting to pick up those blood-stained chips from the ruins."
Shuichi was silent for a long time.
He looked at the lighthouse in the distance that symbolized the power of the "World's Richest Man," then at his twelve-year-old daughter.
For some reason, he felt that the light from that lighthouse wouldn't last as long as the light in his daughter's eyes.
"Saionji Industries…" Shuichi suddenly spoke the name. "When that day comes, will we also build such large hotels?"
"No."
Satsuki closed her eyes, enjoying the evening breeze.
"We don't need to build hotels. Soon, people will be begging us to buy them at bargain-basement prices."
"Let others sweat and take the risks. We just need to sit here and listen to the sound of gold coins falling into our pockets."
The wind blew through the treetops with a rustling sound, as if countless gold coins were flowing.