Second floor, monitoring room.
Tadashi Yanai stood behind the one-way glass, holding a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.
His eyes were bloodshot, yet they shone with a terrifying brightness.
"Too fast..." he murmured to himself.
The checkout area downstairs was like a precision-engineered assembly line. Every transaction was completed cleanly and efficiently.
"And look at this behavioral analysis data," Shimomura Tsutomu, sitting at the control console, tapped the enter key to bring up another set of charts.
He pointed at a row of pulsing green curves on the screen, still chewing gum. "According to the feedback from the image recognition system, the average frequency of customers checking their watches, the number of times they crane their necks to look around, and the probability of anxious foot-tapping are all far below the industry warning line.
Even the ambient decibel levels captured by the on-site microphones are fifteen decibels lower than the average for equivalent foot traffic."
Shimomura Tsutomu blew a bubble, which popped with a sharp snap.
"This indicates their psychological defenses are relaxed and they aren't anxious. In the retail industry, this psychological comfort level directly determines whether they will return next week. It's the most positive indicator for retention rate."
Tadashi Yanai was deeply shaken. He turned his head to look at Shimomura Tsutomu.
"What about the data? And the inventory?"
Shimomura Tsutomu's fingers tapped the keyboard a few more times.
A set of comparative bar charts popped up on the screen.
The left side was red, representing the estimated efficiency of Daiei and Seibu Department Store. The right side was blue, representing the real-time efficiency of S-Mart.
The blue bars were significantly higher than the red ones.
"Transactions processed per checkout counter per hour: 120," Shimomura Tsutomu blew another bubble. "That's three times higher than Daiei. And..."
He pulled up another chart.
"This is the real-time inventory data from the S-Food backend."
"During that lunch peak just now, the inventory of Hokkaido onions dropped by 40%. However, the replenishment order was already sent out twenty minutes ago. The truck from the Chiba Logistics Center should have arrived at the unloading area by now."
Tadashi Yanai looked through the glass toward the unloading dock at the back of the store.
Sure enough, a silver truck was steadily backing into position. Workers skillfully pushed out crates of onions and replenished the shelves directly.
"Seamless integration," Tadashi Yanai took a deep breath, but the cool air couldn't chill the heat in his chest.
He looked at the replenishment system operating like a precision timepiece, then thought of the Daiei supermarket a few blocks away, which was likely in utter chaos right now.
"This isn't even a contest on the same dimension," Tadashi Yanai shook his head and crushed the empty coffee can in his hand with a soft clatter. "We are already using an assembly line to harvest the market, while they are still relying on human wave tactics to fill holes."
He turned around and looked at Satsuki, who was sitting on the corner sofa, with a complex expression.
"The outcome was decided before the doors even opened."
Satsuki was reading a fashion magazine, seemingly indifferent to the astounding commercial miracle before her.
"President Yanai," Satsuki turned a page without looking up. "This is only the beginning."
"Wait until tonight, when the rush of people getting off work pours in — that will be the real test."
She closed the magazine, stood up, and walked to the glass.
"However, I imagine President Isao Nakauchi is much more anxious than we are right now."
Koto Ward, Daiei Group Headquarters.
The president's office was a mess.
Documents were scattered all over the floor, and a telephone line had been ripped out.
Isao Nakauchi slumped in his chair, his tie loosened, his chest heaving violently.
An emergency report that had just been delivered sat on his desk.
Severe checkout congestion at all Daiei supermarket locations; average wait time exceeds 20 minutes.
Foot traffic has decreased by 15% year-on-year.
Some customers have even engaged in physical altercations with staff over change issues.
"Bastard..." Isao Nakauchi grabbed the report and crumpled it into a ball. "It's all because of that damned 1 yen!"
He closed his eyes, and the image of that young girl in the Akasaka ryotei, smiling as she handed him that poisoned contract, surfaced in his mind.
He thought he had only handed Lawson over to her.
He never expected she would use the knife sharpened on Lawson's whetstone to stab into the heart of Daiei.
"President! Something's wrong!" the secretary rushed in frantically, forgetting even to knock. "Over at Seibu Department Store... Chairman Yoshiaki Tsutsumi just issued a statement!"
"What did he say?" Isao Nakauchi snapped his eyes open.
"He said... considering customer convenience, Seibu Department Store has decided to trial a rounding down service at certain counters! Although it's not entirely tax-free, still..."
Isao Nakauchi froze.
Yoshiaki Tsutsumi.
That arrogant, overbearing Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, who always talked about rules, had actually bowed his head?
What did this signify?
It meant even that emperor of real estate was afraid.
Afraid of that White Terror — the White Terror created by S-Mart, based on efficiency and experience.
Isao Nakauchi slowly stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, the Tokyo sky remained gloomy.
But in every corner of the city, those S-Mart signs with white backgrounds and black text were spreading like a virus, devouring the territory of the old era.
"The weather has changed," Isao Nakauchi's voice was hoarse.
He looked at his aging reflection in the glass window.
"This era... no longer belongs to us."
Evening, 6:00 PM.
Shinjuku, S-Mart store.
The peak rush hour for people leaving work had arrived.
The neon lights on the streets began to flicker, dyeing the rain-slicked pavement into a blurred array of colors. The flow of people poured in like a tide, carrying with them the cold air and exhaustion.
Shinichi Tanaka, a Section Chief at Mitsubishi Corporation, carried his heavy briefcase as he blended into the crowd.
He had just finished a marathon meeting, and his tie was so tight he felt a bit suffocated. His throat was parched. All he wanted now was to buy a bottle of water and then quickly duck into the subway to go home and sleep.
Because his usual convenience store was packed, he found himself inexplicably pushing open the glass doors of this newly opened supermarket.
Ding-dong—
A pleasant chime sounded.
A rich, dominant, and warm aroma, like a pair of gentle hands, instantly grabbed his stomach.
The sweetness of radish simmered in bonito broth mixed with the savory scent of freshly fried chicken and the smell of teriyaki sauce caramelizing over charcoal.
Tanaka had originally intended to head straight for the drink cooler, but his feet involuntarily slowed down.
Ah, I'm hungry.
The customer flow design of S-Mart demonstrated its incredible magic here.
Unlike traditional supermarkets that hide the deli section in the deepest part, the entrance flow here was designed as a wide arc, compulsorily — yet incredibly smoothly — guiding customers toward the massive, brightly lit open island in the center of the sales floor:
S-Kitchen.
This place was like a theater stage.
Several employees in pristine white chef uniforms were busy. In a large stainless steel oden pot, amber broth was gently simmering. Radishes that had soaked up the broth appeared as translucent jade, the beef tendon was tender, and the lucky bags were plump.
Steam rose, and white mist swirled.
In this early spring cold night, this cloud of warmth was the most lethal temptation.
And especially for a corporate slave who had just finished work and was famished, this scent was enough to kill him.
"Freshly made Hokkaido Danshaku potato croquettes! Careful, they're hot!" a clerk brought out a tray of golden, crispy meat croquettes and poured them into the heated display case.
That crunching sound shattered Tanaka's final line of defense.
He didn't feel like he was browsing a supermarket. Instead, he had the illusion of walking into a high-end izakaya.
Here, food wasn't coldly sealed in plastic boxes. It was presented vividly and steaming hot.
"Two meat croquettes... and an order of oden," Tanaka swallowed hard, his voice hoarse.
"Certainly, sir." The clerk nimbly boxed the items. "It's currently the after-work rush. You can add a tuna salad for just 100 yen. Would you like one?"
"...Yes."
Tanaka took the warm box. The temperature transferred through the paper bag to his palm, giving him a sudden urge to cry at that moment.
Continuing along the island, he reached the carefully calculated associated display area.
Right next to the steaming deli food was the massive World Liquor Cabinet.
This was a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass refrigerated cases.
To cater to the "want a drink right now" mentality of the after-work crowd, the cooler temperature during this period was set to a frigid 2 degrees Celsius — the temperature at which beer tastes the crispest.
Dark green Heineken, golden Yebisu, silver Asahi Super Dry.
Countless aluminum cans and glass bottles were covered in fine beads of condensation, shimmering with a diamond-like allure under the special cold light sources.
And next to the handles of the liquor cabinet, rows of snacks were hung with extreme calculation:
Smoked shredded squid, wasabi peas, thick-cut beef jerky.
No need to think, no need to search.
With a beer in the left hand, the right hand could easily pull down a bag of snacks.
Tanaka had originally only wanted to buy a bottle of mineral water.
But when he came to his senses, his hand already held a can of expensive Yebisu Gold Label beer and a bag of Hokkaido dried scallops.
"I've worked hard all day. It's not too much to drink something good, right?" he told himself.
Finally, the checkout area.
Tanaka carried the black shopping basket that had unknowingly become full, mentally prepared for a long line. After all, with this many items, checking out would surely be a hassle.
But he was surprised to find that while there were people at the registers, the line was moving at an astonishing speed.
S-Mart's high-end atmosphere, as quiet as an art gallery, seemed to be subtly exerting a psychological suggestion on every customer: In such a decent place, one should also be an elegant person of high society, possessing refinement, and must never be as crude and anxious as in a wet market.
Under the constraint of this invisible refinement, combined with the fact that the checkout speed was indeed as fast as a shooting star, the checkout process was further accelerated, causing the entire waiting process to maintain a surprising level of quiet.
he pushed his cart over.
"Hello, your membership card, please," the cashier took the S-Mart membership card Tanaka handed over and swiped it on the machine.
Beep.
Then, the scanner swept across the items on the conveyor belt like a machine gun.
Beep beep beep beep...
The numbers on the screen jumped rapidly and finally stopped.
Total: 1,800 Yen
No odd change.
All whole numbers.
"That will be 1,800 yen in total," the cashier announced with a smile.
Tanaka's hand instinctively reached for his coin purse.
Although this was the first day of the new tax law's implementation, the overwhelming bombardment of television news for days had already implanted a near-reflexive anxiety in his mind: I must scrape together that 3% change, otherwise I'll be a nuisance to others. This psychological predisposition made him instinctively prepare to fumble for those annoying 1-yen and 5-yen coins.
The moment his fingers touched the cold coins, he stopped abruptly.
He looked at the clean "1,800" on the screen, then at the few coins in his hand. A surreal feeling of being in a different world washed over her.
"Really... just 1,800?" he couldn't help but confirm, his voice tinged with a hint of unbelievable surprise in the chaos of April 1st. "Oh, right, this store is not only beautiful and cheap, it's even tax-free!"
"Although the ads said it was tax-free, I didn't expect... even this final step to be so straightforward."
"Yes, just as we promised," the cashier didn't mock his habitual movement but instead gently pointed to the nearby stand that read Lightening the Burden on Your Life. "At S-Mart, you will never need to fumble through your wallet for that 3% change."
Tanaka let go of those coins with their metallic smell.
He pulled two one-thousand-yen bills from his long wallet and handed them over.
"Exactly right. Thank you for your patronage."
The cashier took the money with both hands and handed back the receipt and two 100-yen coins.
The entire process took less than thirty seconds.
Tanaka pushed his cart out the door. The cold wind blew on his face, but he felt warm inside.
It was as if he weren't so tired anymore.
In his hand, he carried a bag full of things — a bunch of items he hadn't originally intended to buy: beer, snacks, tomorrow's breakfast bread, and a box of sushi for a late-night snack.
Along with that newly issued membership card printed with the red logo.
He looked back at the bright floor-to-ceiling window, the only place in this cold city that didn't add to his stress, but instead gave him dignity.
"From now on, I'll just come here," he said to himself.
Gripping the warm oden in his hand, he strode toward the subway station.
And behind him, the soft glow of S-Mart was like a massive beast trap, gently devouring every weary soul that passed by.