Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 380 Bait

January 7, 1991, Akasaka, Saionji main residence.

The last day in Matsunouchi. The New Year's shimenashi (a type of ornament) decorations were still hanging at the entrance, and the pine branches of the Kadomatsu were slightly drooping under the weight of the morning's fine snow.

In the Japanese-style room at the end of the entrance hallway, the shoji door was half-open, and through the crack, one could see the dry landscape garden in the courtyard covered with a thin layer of white snow.

Gondo Tokuhiro arrived fifteen minutes earlier than the agreed time.

He was wearing a dark charcoal gray suit, his tie was neatly tied, his shoes were carefully polished, and the buttons on his cuffs had been specially replaced with plain silver ones.

This kind of attire is common among the cadres involved in the construction of Saionji Temple, but today he was dressed more neatly than usual, as if he were attending an event he wasn't sure was a banquet or a funeral.

Chizuru led him to the small study on the second floor.

"Please wait."

Gondo nodded. He stood in the corridor, his hands hanging at his sides, clenching and unclenching slightly.

He has repeated this action several times.

To be honest, he had no idea what his fate would be.

According to what he had heard about the young lady's temperament, although she would severely punish those who made mistakes, she would still treat those who voluntarily confessed with some leniency.

Saionji Yasuhide made a huge mistake, yet he's still alive, isn't he?

But since Gondo's surname isn't Saionji, it's uncertain whether he'll receive the same preferential treatment.

Three minutes later, Chizuru reappeared at the end of the corridor.

"Please come in."

With a slight bow and a heart full of trepidation, Gondo entered the study.

The study is small. There is a bookshelf on one wall, a walnut desk, and two guest chairs in front of the desk.

The curtains were half-drawn, revealing a greyish-white sky outside. The snow had stopped, but the light was still thin.

Satsuki sat in the chair behind the desk.

She wasn't dressed formally, just in a beige cashmere cardigan and a dark long skirt, her hair loosely tucked behind her ears. Beside her was a celadon teacup, the black tea inside still steaming.

Tokuhiro Eguchi sat on the guest chair on the left. Endo stood beside the bookshelf, holding a dark blue folder in his hands.

This was different from the scene Gondo had imagined: various recording devices set up, a lawyer standing solemnly to one side, and a third-party recorder coldly watching him.

This doesn't look like an interrogation room layout.

But when Gondo stepped into the room, the muscles in his back tensed for a moment.

"Managing Director Gondo." Satsuki walked to her seat and sat down, her tone the same as she always did at any routine work meeting, "Please sit down."

"Yes, thank you for your hard work."

Gondo bowed slightly and sat down on the guest chair on the right. The leather seat was soft, but he sat very upright.

"Chizuru".

Chizuru silently walked over from the side and placed a cup of the same black tea in front of Gondo. The tea was a little lighter in color than Satsuki's, indicating it was freshly brewed.

Gondo did not touch his teacup.

Satsuki casually picked up her teacup and took a sip, without looking directly at him.

"I've read the letter," she said. "You can say what you want to say now."

Gondo's breath hitched. He took a folded white envelope from his suit pocket, bowed, and handed it forward with both hands.

Endo reached out and took it from the side, placing it on Satsuki's desk.

"Young Miss Rong Ren." His voice was steady, but his pace was a beat slower than normal. "The winter energy consumption model of the Bliss Pavilion was created by the Cost Management Department based on data from three months of trial operation."

"The trial operation period is from late spring to early autumn. During those three months, the dome defrosting frequency is low, the temperature control system is under light load, and the heavy oil consumption is 40% less than the actual operation during the snow season."

"Based on this set of data, we added a correction factor to estimate the stable operating costs under full load during winter."

Satsuki picked up her teacup.

"What is the correction factor?"

"1.35".

Satsuki took another sip of tea and put down the cup.

"How much should actually be used?"

Gondo's lips moved slightly.

"Based on the operating data from December of this year... it's at least 1.6."

The study was quiet for a few seconds. A crow flew past the treetops outside the window, its shadow flickering on the curtains.

Jiang Kou sat beside him without saying a word, but his fingers slightly bent on his knee.

"So the actual winter energy consumption of Gokurakukan under Seibu's control was 20% higher than what was written in the transfer information package." Satsuki looked directly at Gondo this time. "You knew about this discrepancy back then."

Gondo closed his eyes briefly.

"Know."

"Have you reported this?"

"……No."

Satsuki shifted her gaze from Gondo's face to the withered branches outside the window.

Why?

Gondo remained silent for three seconds.

"Back then... the Paradise Club had a monthly turnover of 50 billion, and the underground casino's cuts and auction commissions covered the energy consumption difference by tenfold. Everyone knew that winter maintenance was expensive, but as long as the profits could be covered, no one would stop for a factor."

His voice dropped by half a octave.

"Throughout the bubble era, from design institutes to banks to construction companies, the cost models for every project were overly optimistic."

"This isn't just my habit, nor is it a problem unique to Saionji Construction. It's... a rule that everyone tacitly agrees on."

Satsuki did not respond to that statement.

She pulled her fingers back from the rim of the teacup and placed them on the table.

"You mean you didn't fabricate anything, you were just... a little too optimistic, right?"

"Yes."

"Have you discussed the wording with Hamano Materials?"

"No. All the material batches and acceptance records from Hamano are genuine."

"The specifications of the dome insulation material have not been downgraded, and there has been no cutting corners during construction."

"The problem lies only in the model."

"Only in the model."

Satsuki tilted her head slightly and looked at Endo.

Endo opened the dark blue folder in his hand, pulled out two pages, and handed them to the table.

"It was a note from Seibu at the end of December," he said. "It was ostensibly for an annual audit review. But the issue pointed to the discrepancy between the winter energy consumption estimates in the transfer data package and the actual figures."

Satsuki glanced down at it.

"What are Seibu's current demands?"

"They haven't reached the point of making demands yet," Endo said. "They're looking for excuses. If Hamano's technical summary could give them a 'model is overly optimistic' statement, they'd have a stepping stone."

"Stepping stone?"

"Taking one step down, we can demand a renegotiation of the terms of the Gokurakukan deal. Taking one step up, we can question how many of Saionji Construction's older projects have similar problems after the merger."

Satsuki put the paper back on the table.

She turned her head and looked at Gondo again.

"Gondo," Satsuki's voice was soft, "from an engineering perspective, is the 1.35 coefficient you used falsified?"

Gondo's shoulders tensed.

"...There is evidence. Data from the first three weeks of the ski season could indeed support a 1.35% estimate. However, subsequent actual operations proved that this assumption was overly optimistic."

"Can Hamano prove that you fabricated the evidence?"

"No. The materials are real, the construction is real, and the acceptance is real. At most, Hamano can only say that the model's assumptions are too optimistic; he wouldn't say that the data is fabricated."

Satsuki nodded.

"That's good."

She stood up. The chair slid slightly off the floor, about half an inch away.

Kondo immediately stood up, moving faster than her and adopting a very humble posture.

"Gondo." Satsuki walked around the desk and stood in front of him.

She only reached Gondo's chest in height, but Gondo's back was bent as if he were facing a pine tree growing on the edge of a cliff.

"Yes."

"You have three things to do next."

"First, cooperate with any document verification related to the process. Provide whatever is asked of you. Submit exactly as the original records were written."

"Second, do not offer explanations. Do not add footnotes to any documents. Let the engineering and technical department take note: do not issue any unauthorized analysis reports."

"Third—" Satsuki's voice paused for half a second, "Don't clean up anyone's messes."

Gondo's body stiffened.

"Including your own," Satsuki added as the last sentence.

Gondo lowered his head deeply.

"clear."

Satsuki returned to her desk and sat down.

"Let's go back."

Gondo took a step back, bowed deeply, and turned to walk towards the door.

The door closed behind him.

The footsteps faded away down the corridor. A few sounds echoed on the stairs, and the door to the first-floor entryway opened and closed softly.

Jiang Kou let out a breath.

"Young Miss, his coefficient—"

"That's not the point." Satsuki picked up her teacup, found it was cold, and put it down again. "The point is what Seibu can get right now."

Endo walked over from the bookshelf. "Hamano's summary only says 'the model is overly optimistic,' which cannot be used as evidence to accuse anyone."

"Yes." Satsuki placed her hands on the table. "The Seibu only has a third party's statement right now—they don't have any conclusive evidence at all."

"This knife can't cut through the skin of Saionji Temple's construction."

"But it's okay to scratch it a little."

Endo looked at her.

Satsuki's lips curled up slightly, as if she had seen something interesting.

"Gondo is not a loophole," she said.

Eguchi and Endo both looked at her at the same time.

"On the contrary, he can be used as bait."

Endo's brow twitched slightly.

"The Seibu wants to use Gondo as a crowbar, and the Shiraizuki wants to use Gokurakukan as ammunition." Satsuki tapped her fingers lightly on the table twice. "Then let them take it."

"Gondo sat there obediently, answering whatever anyone asked, without saying a word more or less, and without submitting a single page less."

"Just when they thought this connection was useful and started pulling in more and more desperately—"

She didn't finish her sentence.

Endo already understands.

"...All they can come up with is the word 'optimism'."

Satsuki pushed the cold teacup to the side of the table. "This only proves that throughout the bubble economy, everyone's projects were equally optimistic."

"The same goes for the projects that Seibu does themselves."

Jiang Kou finally loosened his fist, which he had been clenching for so long.

"Chizuru," Satsuki said, raising her voice.

A soft response came from outside the shoji gate.

"Change the teapot to hot tea."

……

At 3 p.m. on the same day, in the Minato Ward, on the 17th floor of the Seibu headquarters.

The blinds in the conference room were drawn to a narrow slit. January sunlight streamed in through the gap, tracing a white line across the long table.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi sat at the head of the table.

His suit today was a deep navy blue, his shirt was almost shiny white, and his cufflinks were platinum.

The sixty-year-old's skin looked ten years younger than his actual age, with only the lines around his eyes revealing something—the pressure from the financial figures of the past six months.

Shimada sat in the second seat to his right, separated from Sano, the head of the secretary's office.

There were three documents on the table.

The top cover has a yellow label: Pleasure House November to December 1990 Monthly Operating Cost Report.

The middle document with a green label reads: "Review of the Construction Process of Saionji Temple (Copy)".

The bottom document has a white label: Hamano Materials Industry Technology Summary.

Sano has already read the contents aloud once.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi didn't look at the documents. He leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands together on his abdomen, and slowly rubbed his thumbs together.

The air in the meeting room was tense.

"A bit optimistic," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but when he spoke, the breathing of all five people present became shallow.

"Yes," Shimada said. "The technical summary of Hamano Materials used this rather vague term."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi paused for a moment.

"What can this word do?"

"Taken alone, it doesn't do much," Shimada said. "Optimism isn't a legal concept, nor is it an audit conclusion. It has no teeth."

"Then why are you here?"

Shimada pulled the summary with the white label from the table and turned to the second page.

"Because it can be used with other things."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced at him.

Shimada turned that page over and pointed to the last paragraph.

"The problem with Gokurakukan is not an isolated case. Saionji Temple was established after the merger with Daito Kenken.

"Daito Construction's old projects—Odaiba infrastructure, Hokkaido cold storage facilities, and several completed and handed-over hot spring hotels—all used the same cost accounting system."

"If the model for Gokurakukan is too optimistic, what about the other attractions?"

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You mean, not Gokurakukan itself?"

"Regarding Gokurakukan itself, Saionji only needs to prove that it was indeed profitable during its operation, and the responsibility then becomes our own problem after taking over." Shimada had already conducted his investigation, so he spoke calmly and deliberately, "But if the issue escalates to 'whether there was a systemic bias in the internal management of Saionji's construction—'

He stopped there.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's thumb started moving again.

"Sumitomo is handing over the overseas letter of credit to Saionji," Sano whispered from the side.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi did not look at him.

"What does Sumitomo's business have to do with us?"

Shimada picked up the thread. "There's no direct connection. But Sumitomo Manufacturing entrusted the settlement rights to Saionji, ostensibly based on 'the assessment of the overall creditworthiness of the Saionji Group.'"

"If rumors of 'old internal issues surrounding the Saionji construction' emerge in the market—even if it's just a question—Sumitomo's companies that are still hesitant will have another reason to suspend operations."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi finally looked down at the documents on the table.

He only glanced at the cover figures of the Paradise Pavilion's monthly operations report, his gaze lingering on the "heavy oil consumption" column for two seconds before looking away.

I won't look.

Although December last year started the winter with a mild climate nationwide, resulting in a slight decrease in heavy oil consumption, the economic downturn is far from over.

The simultaneous decline in both customer traffic and average transaction value has still created a very unsightly deficit on the books.

No matter how large Seibu is, or how much money other companies make, the cost of a world-class spectacle like Gokurakukan is still extremely high.

"What's been going on in Urakami lately?"

That's exactly what Shimada was waiting for.

"The Hakusuikai's media offensive in Osaka at the end of last year was suppressed in Kyoto. Urakami Masaaki is currently shrinking back to Ito Man's main body, preparing to arrange for a shell company to divest the company."

"But his PR firm has recently been inquiring about suppliers for the Gokurakukan's winter maintenance."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stopped.

"He's also looking for this lead."

"Yes."

The meeting room fell silent again.

Through the narrow gaps in the blinds, the sky outside had changed from grayish-white to leaden blue. It was getting dark.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood up.

He walked to the window, pressed down the slats of the blinds half an inch with one finger, and looked down at the street below through the gap.

Traffic in Akasaka was starting to pick up, and taillights cast long red streaks across the wet pavement.

"Shimada".

"exist."

"That review summary." Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's back was turned to everyone. "Hamano's."

"Yes."

"Let Osaka know that we have this."

Shimada remained silent.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi loosened the slats of the blinds and turned around.

"Don't use our names. Just find an intermediary to leak the existence of the abstract."

"The wording."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi walked back to the table, neatly stacked the three documents, and gently patted them with his palm.

"For example, Seibu has noticed the anomalies in Gokurakukan's operating costs."

"We are considering whether to include the relevant materials in the supplementary notes to the annual audit."

"If the Kansai region has similar concerns about the Saionji Temple project, the two sides could perhaps exchange some publicly available reference materials."

Shimada mentally reviewed these words.

Every sentence falls within the scope of "considering," "perhaps," and "referring to." Not a single word can be interpreted as an alliance, conspiracy, or joint attack.

Putting it on the table is simply a way for the two companies to exchange information during their respective annual audits.

Place it under the desktop.

"Understood," Shimada said.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi took his coat off the back of the chair and draped it over his arm.

"There's one more thing."

"Yes."

"Don't touch Gondo for now." Tsutsumi Yoshiaki walked towards the door, not stopping as he passed Sano. "Saionji Satsuki just returned; he'll definitely go see her first. Let him see her."

"Let's see his expression after he comes out of the main house."

The door opened.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi walked out. His two assistants from the secretary's office were waiting in the corridor, and they followed him until they disappeared in the direction of the elevator.

Only Shimada and Sano remained in the meeting room.

Sano put the three documents into his briefcase, zipped it up, and glanced up at Shimada.

"Who should we use in Osaka?"

Shimada thought for a moment.

"The Kansai Economic Federation is having a New Year's gathering next month. There will be many people there, and we can talk about anything over dinner."

He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table.

"A summary can be delivered from Tokyo to Osaka with just one handshake."

Sano tucked his briefcase under his arm.

"clear."

The sky outside the window was completely dark. Only the lights of the building across the street and the car headlights on the road below could be seen through the gaps in the blinds.

The evening rush hour in Akasaka had already begun, and the sound of horns came from the seventeenth floor, as faint as mosquitoes.

Shimada took one last look at the empty desktop.

Gokurakukan, Gondo, Hakusuikai, Sumitomo.

Four names, four lines.

Each one, taken individually, is not sharp enough.

But if they are seen by people at the same time—

Shimada turned off the lights and walked out of the conference room.

The elevator at the end of the corridor is going up.

The numbers jump from one to three, from three to seven, past seventeen, and continue upwards.

There are always things that are moving upwards.