June 15, 1989.
Tokyo, Ginza 7-chome.
The rainy season's downpour fell like endless threads and entangled the entire city in a gray, hazy moisture. The asphalt surface of Central Link was soaked black by the rain, and the halos of the streetlights were stretched thin and distorted in the puddles.
G-7 CRYSTAL, Top Floor Private Gallery.
The air here was strictly controlled by a constant temperature and humidity system set to twenty-two degrees and fifty percent humidity. Thickened bulletproof glass curtain walls shut out the noisy sound of rain from outside. The interior was so quiet that only the slight sound of leather shoes stepping on the deep gray wool carpet could be heard.
Several oil paintings, meticulously illuminated by spotlights, hung on the walls.
Shuichi stood before a painting encased in a heavy gold frame. In the painting, a young girl dressed in a Victorian-era gown sat sideways on a garden bench while reading a book.
It was a work by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. The title was A Girl Reading.
"Satsuki."
Shuichi's voice echoed in the empty gallery, and it carried a hint of imperceptible worry.
"Will Tsutsumi Seiji really buy it? Three billion yen is a steep price. Although it's the bubble era now, the markup on this painting is at least three times its value. Moreover, the Saison Group just acquired InterContinental Hotels, so their cash flow should be very tight."
Satsuki sat on a velvet bench in the center of the gallery.
Today she wore a pure black high-necked sleeveless dress with a string of warm-colored pearls around her neck. She held a financial brief for FamilyMart's last quarter and flipped through it absent-mindedly.
"Father."
Satsuki closed the brief and placed it on her lap.
"In the past, he might have hesitated. But now, he happens to have a windfall in his pocket."
She stood up, walked to the Renoir, and extended a finger clad in a white glove. She traced the edges of the frame in the air.
"Thanks to S-Food's logistics reform, FamilyMart's net profit last quarter grew by 40 percent. To Tsutsumi Seiji, this is money our Saionji family helped him earn."
"People are always exceptionally generous with windfalls. Not to mention…"
Satsuki turned around, and her gaze cast toward Ginza in the rain and mist outside the window.
"In his eyes, I am the hero who helped him turn a low-end business like a convenience store into a money-printing machine. Since I can help him make money in business, he naturally considers my recommendation of artwork to be a value investment as well."
A crisp ding came from the elevator hall.
Shuichi adjusted the collar of his suit. The worry on his face vanished instantly and was replaced by the characteristic reserve and composure of an old Kazoku patriarch.
"He's here."
---
The elevator doors slid open.
Tsutsumi Seiji stepped out.
Compared to a year ago, the commander of the Saison Group looked much healthier. He was a far cry from the image of the man standing before a urinal. Although the group behind him carried enormous debt, the convenience store business's performance as a cash cow gave him great confidence.
He wore a loose-fitting linen suit without a tie. His collar was open to reveal a white cotton shirt underneath. A pair of tortoiseshell-framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and his hair was meticulously combed.
"Shuichi-kun! And Miss Satsuki!"
Tsutsumi Seiji opened his arms and greeted them warmly. This warmth was no longer a hypocritical formality. It carried the intimacy of seeing one of his own.
"Seiji-san."
Shuichi went to meet him and bowed slightly.
"I'm terribly sorry to have troubled you to come personally in this weather."
"Don't mention it."
Tsutsumi Seiji waved his hand with a smile. His gaze turned to Satsuki, and his eyes were full of admiration.
"I came specifically to thank Miss Satsuki. I saw FamilyMart's report from last month. S-Food's logistics system is simply a miracle. All that fresh produce that would have been wasted has now turned into profit."
He walked up to Satsuki and even bowed slightly to show his respect for this young ally.
"When the bank people saw the cash flow statement, they finally started giving Saison a good look. You are our lucky star."
"Uncle Tsutsumi, you flatter me."
Satsuki held her hem and performed a standard curtsy. Her smile was sweet and humble.
"It was your boldness in adopting the reform plan. I only did some insignificant supporting work."
"Oh, too modest."
Tsutsumi Seiji was in a great mood.
The three of them took their seats.
A waiter served freshly brewed Darjeeling black tea.
Without much small talk, Tsutsumi Seiji took the initiative to cut to the chase. In his view, the Saionji family was a trustworthy business partner, and there was no need for circumlocution.
"Shuichi-kun, you mentioned on the phone that you have a good item you want to sell?"
Tsutsumi Seiji picked up his teacup. His gaze scanned the gallery.
"I've been preparing for the new wing of the Saison Art Museum recently, and I'm short of a few pieces that can hold the floor. Since it's an old collection of the Saionji family, the taste is bound to be first-rate. After all, I've already seen your eye for business."
"It is indeed a rare treasure."
Shuichi set down his teacup, stood up, and walked to the easel.
"My father brought this back from Paris during the Taisho era."
He grabbed a corner of the red velvet cloth and gave it a gentle tug.
The velvet slid off.
The colors unique to Renoir's later years, full of a sense of air and happiness, flowed out under the lights. The girl's rosy face and the blurred garden in the background radiated an intoxicating tranquility.
"Oh…"
Tsutsumi Seiji was stunned for a moment. He stood up, took off his glasses, and leaned in to examine it closely.
"So beautiful… this light, these brushstrokes."
As a poet, he had absolutely no resistance to such romantic works.
"If it were someone else's painting, I might have to find an appraiser to take a look," Tsutsumi Seiji said. He turned to look at Satsuki with a smile. "But since Miss Satsuki recommended it, I am entirely at ease. Your eye, whether for business or for paintings, has never been wrong."
Satsuki walked to his side and said softly,
"Uncle Tsutsumi, I feel the temperament of this painting matches your Saison culture very well. It represents a kind of composed affluence. Isn't the money you earn from convenience stores meant to support such art?"
She paused slightly, as if mentioning it casually.
"Unlike some people… who only know how to buy land, build buildings, and then buy more land. That kind of wealth, filled with the smell of bulldozers, can never buy the peace in this picture, no matter how high it's piled."
This sentence accurately pricked Tsutsumi Seiji's weak spot. It played to his competitive sense toward his younger brother, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi.
Tsutsumi Seiji's expression changed subtly, followed by a smug smile.
"You mean Yoshiaki, don't you?"
He put his glasses back on and looked at the painting as if he were seeing in it proof of his superiority over his brother.
"That fellow indeed doesn't understand these things. He only knows how to fill Tokyo Bay with concrete. I heard a few days ago that over in Odaiba, he even had to eat dust behind a Saionji Construction convoy?"
"There was such an incident."
Satsuki smiled and added fuel to the topic.
"Although Uncle Yoshiaki Tsutsumi is forceful, he is still very polite in the face of rules and heritage. When he saw our family's convoy, he actually yielded the main road."
"That's more like it."
Tsutsumi Seiji let out a long breath and felt thoroughly refreshed.
The family that even his arrogant younger brother had to yield to was now his ally, and that family was selling him this painting that symbolized old aristocratic taste.
The act of buying the painting itself was no longer significant.
This was buying a certification that said he belonged to this circle. He was using the vulgar money he earned from convenience stores to wash away the shadow cast by his nouveau riche brother.
"I'll take this painting."
Tsutsumi Seiji turned around and looked at Shuichi with determined eyes.
"Shuichi-kun, name your price."
Shuichi held up three fingers.
"Three billion."
Tsutsumi Seiji's eyelid twitched. He naturally knew this price was on the high side. It was even astronomical.
But he glanced at Satsuki beside him.
The money this girl had helped him earn through FamilyMart was far more than three billion. Moreover, if it was a price set by the Saionji family, then this painting must have its invisible value. That value included the influence that even Yoshiaki Tsutsumi had to bow to.
"Fine."
Tsutsumi Seiji did not haggle.
He pulled a checkbook from his inner pocket. It was the dividend account for FamilyMart.
"Consider it… buying a soul for the Saison Group."
He took out a fountain pen and quickly wrote a string of numbers on the check.
"Three billion."
He tore off the check and handed it to Shuichi.
"Shuichi-kun, Miss Satsuki. This painting is mine."
Shuichi took the check and glanced at the numbers on it.
It was a Citibank cashier's check. The payment was immediate.
"I hope you enjoy it." Shuichi smiled and shook his hand.
---
The rain had stopped.
Tsutsumi Seiji left with the painting. Staff members carefully packed the painting and loaded it into the bulletproof stretch Lincoln.
Before getting into the car, he made a point of holding Satsuki's hand. He thanked her again for her support in the convenience store business, and he warmly invited her to visit the soon-to-be-completed Saison Art Museum.
The convoy drove away from Ginza and disappeared into the bustling traffic.
Quiet returned to the gallery once more.
Shuichi held the thin check in his hand, and he felt his fingertips burn slightly.
"Three billion…"
Shuichi looked at the number, and he felt somewhat dazed.
"We helped him make money, and then we took the money back with a painting?"
"It's called profit reflux, Father."
Satsuki walked over and plucked the check from her father's hand.
She held the check up to the light and confirmed the anti-counterfeit watermark.
"Mr. Tsutsumi Seiji is a good man. He works hard, runs convenience stores, and earns profits. Then he hands those profits over to us in exchange for his own elegance."
"Isn't that very fair?"
She folded the check neatly and put it into her handbag.
"He got the prestige. We got the substance."
Satsuki walked to the window and watched the passersby below with their umbrellas, hurrying along.
"Besides, this money will be more useful in our hands than in his."
Looking at her matter-of-fact way of pulling teeth from a tiger's mouth while simultaneously complaining about the tiger's dental health, Shuichi felt an indescribable sense of pride swell in his heart.
This is my daughter.
She can dance gracefully in the vanity fair wearing the most expensive gown, and she can also raise the butcher's knife without hesitation to harvest those vain souls.
Truly… so reliable, and so adorable.
"Yes, very fair."
Shuichi smiled, and his eyes were full of doting affection.
"Since the money is in hand, let Mr. Tsutsumi have a sweet dream while holding his elegance."
Click.
Satsuki pressed the switch on the wall.
The gallery's spotlights went out.
Darkness instantly swallowed the luxurious space, leaving only the giant floor-to-ceiling windows letting in light.
Outside, the late-night rain in Ginza continued to fall.
The multicolored neon lights were blurred by the rain and turned into flowing spots of colored light. The light was silently projected onto the empty red velvet easel like a grand and illusory dream. The dream was performing alone on a stage with no audience.