pjbooks Chapter 104 Black Tuesday
Chapter 104 Black Tuesday
Chapter 104 Black Monday
On a street in the port area, a black Toyota Century slowly came to a stop at an intersection.
The red light has turned green three times, but the traffic is still completely still.
"I'm very sorry, Kitahara-san."
In the driver's seat, the newly hired full-time driver wiped the sweat from his forehead, glanced at the traffic report, and said, "It seems that the Metropolitan Expressway Circular Line ahead is closed again. I heard on the radio that there was a personal accident." The traffic flow has all surged onto the ground, and now the entire port area is at a standstill.
"It's okay, drive slowly."
Kitahara Shin sat in the spacious and comfortable back seat, flipping through the latest issue of the Nikkei newspaper, showing no signs of anxiety despite the traffic jam.
He lowered the car window halfway.
The noise from outside instantly rushed in.
It was the piercing sound of police sirens, and the synchronized "tsk" sounds from commuters whose way to work was blocked on the sidewalk.
There were no gasps of surprise, no expressions of sympathy.
Everyone's faces showed only annoyance and numbness, as if to say, "Here we go again, what bad luck."
This is the third time this week.
Since the Nikkei index fell below the 23,000-point mark, these so-called "personal accidents" have become as frequent as weather forecasts.
Those who took on huge debts to speculate on real estate and stocks at the peak of the market had all their hopes extinguished when the bubble burst. In the end, they chose to jump off the platform or the overpass, adding to the congestion of this already collapsing city.
The bubble burst.
It's no longer the "technical adjustment" that experts talk about, but a real collapse.
Through the car window, Kitahara Shin saw that the real estate agency that used to advertise "High-priced purchase of golf memberships" had closed down, replaced by red paper signs that read "Bankruptcy clearance sale" and "Cash buyback".
I've heard that the madams in Ginza have been complaining lately that the days of waving around 10,000 yen bills to snatch taxis seem like a thing of the past, and now customers hesitate for ages even to open a bottle of fine whiskey.
"Turn it off."
Kitahara Shin said it casually.
The car window rolled up.
That thick layer of soundproof glass instantly shut out that anxious, noisy world filled with despair.
The car was quiet again, with only the slight hum of the air conditioning vents.
Sasaki's private office in Minato Ward.
The world here is completely different from the gloomy and desolate atmosphere outside.
The air was thick with the smoke of top-quality Cuban cigars as Zosam, wearing a silk shirt with an open collar, poured expensive champagne into two crystal glasses.
His hands were steady, and his face radiated an irrepressible, victorious glow.
"Kitahara-kun, do you know what the closing figures were just now?"
He pointed to the computer screen on the table, which was still flashing green numbers (the percentage drop), and his voice revealed an excitement that seemed to seep from his very bones: "It's crashed. Those self-righteous fund managers are crying and screaming, but we—we're celebrating."
Six months ago, when Kitahara Shin suggested that he clear out all his yen assets, convert them all into US dollars, and buy a large number of put options on the Nikkei index, Sasaki did not show much surprise.
This seasoned shrew, who had been navigating the business world for many years, had long sensed the unsettling frenzy in the market.
At that time, everyone was borrowing money like crazy, and even housewives were discussing which stocks would rise. This kind of prosperity that defied common sense made him, a man who was used to licking blood off the edge of a knife, instinctively feel fear.
He had already begun to quietly shrink his operations, but he was still somewhat hesitant about "when to exit" and "whether to short sell in the opposite direction".
After all, no one dares to easily stand against the entire era.
But Kitahara Shin's words became the final weight that broke the balance in his mind.
The young man's calmness and composure perfectly matched his inner judgment.
"ten times."
Sasaki shoved the wine glass into Kitahara Shin's hand, his shrewd eyes gleaming with undisguised admiration. "Excluding transaction fees and channel fees, our assets have increased tenfold! And because we converted to US dollars, we were completely unaffected by the yen's depreciation; we even profited from the exchange rate difference."
He looked at Kitahara Shin as if he were looking at a rare treasure he had unearthed.
The reason I decided to befriend this young man was not only because he was famous, but also because I saw in him a kind of vision that was beyond his years and almost monstrous.
Now it seems that my judgment was indeed correct.
"To be honest, although I also felt that the market was overheated at the time, I only dared to reduce my holdings by 30%."
Sasaki sighed, raising his glass to clink with Kitahara Shin's. "If you hadn't been so resolute back then, I'd probably still be heartbroken over those shrunken assets. Kitahara-kun, you really managed to get the entire Tokyo financial world involved in that move."
Kitahara Shin took a sip of champagne.
The cool liquid slid down my throat, taking away the heat from the journey.
"It's not over yet."
He put down his glass, his tone calm. "This is just the beginning. Land prices will continue to fall, and the banks' bad debts haven't all come to an end yet. The coming year will be the real winter."
Sasa's smile deepened.
He liked this argument.
For hunters with large sums of cash at their disposal, the dead of winter is the best hunting season.
"So what's next?"
Sasaki leaned forward, his eyes burning, "Now that you have this money, are you planning to buy up properties in Tokyo at rock-bottom prices?"
Or should we acquire those nearly bankrupt film companies? Just ask, and you can have any kind of Tokyo you want right now.
Kitahara Shin's current cash flow is enough to make even the so-called heads of conglomerates envious.
"No."
Kitahara Shin shook his head, tapping his fingers lightly on the leather sofa armrest. "The Japanese ship is still sinking; going up now would be like taking over."
He turned to Zosam and said, "Help me transfer the funds out. Increase investment in China."
"China?"
Zosam paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes, his brain working at lightning speed.
Six months ago, he might have questioned it.
But now, facing Kitahara Shin, with whom he had just completed a perfect harvest, his first reaction was not "why", but "what's there?"
"You're very optimistic about the development there?" Sasaki asked tentatively.
"Of course."
Kitahara Shin didn't explain further.
As someone with a godlike perspective, he knew very well what kind of takeoff that behemoth on the other side of the sea was about to experience.
"Labor is cheap over there, the market is enormous, and—now is the perfect time to enter the market."
Sasaki stared at Kitahara Shin for a few seconds, then he smiled.
It was a knowing smile.
"It seems we're thinking the same thing again."
Sasamu picked up his glass again, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Actually, I've been hesitant about whether to make arrangements in advance. Since you're so determined, then I have nothing to worry about."
"Then it's settled."
He raised his glass, his tone carrying a sense of confidence that came from a powerful partnership: "This time, let's continue our pleasant collaboration."
The two clinked glasses again.
The crisp sound of glass colliding was particularly pleasant on this "Black Monday" when everyone was on edge.
This is the tacit understanding between intelligent people.
As long as you follow the winners, you can keep winning.
It was already evening when I left the office and returned to my apartment.
Kitahara Shin turned on the TV.
NHK news is reporting on today's dismal stock market performance.
In the video, a large number of securities company employees stand in front of the screen, looking dazed, some even collapsing to the ground and weeping.
Immediately following was a breaking news report about the president of a major real estate company committing suicide by hanging himself in his office.
The overall social atmosphere has reached rock bottom.
That sense of oppression overflowed from the television screen, filling every corner of the room.
Kitahara Shin turned off the TV, and the room returned to silence.
He walked to his desk, opened the drawer, and took out the new bankbook.
Turn to the first page.
Looking at the string of numbers above, he let out a long sigh of relief.
sense of security.
This is the most direct and brutal sense of security.
In this era of bursting bubbles, talent may be buried and fame may fade, but cash in hand is always the strongest shield.
He thought of Akina.
Although she didn't understand finance, she had an almost blind trust in him.
At his strong suggestion, she exchanged most of her savings for US dollars before going to the United States for further studies.
It now appears that she not only avoided this wave of asset shrinkage, but also inexplicably saw her net worth increase significantly.
There is also spring water.
Being is currently on the rise, with stable record sales. In addition, she has very low material desires, so as long as the company doesn't go bankrupt, she can continue singing in peace.
Everyone around me is safe.
Kitahara Shin closed the passbook and threw it back into the drawer.
What does having this money mean?
This means he has completely escaped the meat grinder of capital.
He doesn't need to take on roles in those terrible idol dramas for high pay; he doesn't need to attend those boring ribbon-cutting events to please sponsors; and he doesn't need to be subservient to the whims of TV station executives.
If one day no one asks him to act anymore, he can even invest his own money to make whatever he wants to make.
"Creative freedom—"
Kitahara Shin leaned back in his chair, looking out at the lights of Tokyo Tower.
On this night when everyone was filled with anxiety, he felt an unprecedented sense of relief.
This is the state he has been pursuing since his rebirth.
It's not for fame, nor for money.
Rather, it was so that I could stand tall and be a true actor.
He picked up a pen from the table and wrote a few words on a piece of white paper.
[Personal Firm]
Now that you've grown up and have your own wings, there's no need to keep relying on others.
Now, he needs a team entirely of his own to handle the complex business and public relations matters, so that he can devote all his energy to the bottomless pit of acting.
We also need to hire a few reliable assistants.
Ideally, they should be someone who keeps their mouth shut, is quick and efficient, and also knows a bit about law or finance.
Kitahara Shin drew a circle on the paper and began to plan the next personnel structure in his mind.
Outside the window, the faint sound of police sirens could be heard, probably indicating another "accident" had occurred somewhere.
But this has nothing to do with Kitahara Shin.