PDLP Chapter 44 Coronation in the Dark
Chapter 44 Coronation in the Dark
(Thanks to the two verified users "ougenqingwang"! Thanks to the verified users "西行寺、幽幽子"! Thanks to the verified user "怀着期待"! Two more updates are coming!)
May 20, 1987.
The night was as dark as ink, hanging heavily over Azabu-Juban in the Minato Ward.
Even though Roppongi, just a few hundred meters away, was bustling with noise due to the bubble economy boom, taxis honked their horns deafeningly in their scramble for passengers, and the neon lights of the disco turned the sky an ambiguous purplish-red, as soon as you turned into that narrow slope called "Yamizaka," all the sounds seemed to be swallowed up by sound-absorbing cotton, and you instantly fell into a deathly silence.
The streetlights here are old-fashioned gas lamps, and the light is dim and yellowish.
At the end of the slope, a huge black cast iron gate is hidden by dense ancient trees.
There was no plaque above the door, only a palm-sized brass plaque embedded in the stone pillar on the right, with two simple English words etched on it:
The Club.
It's 11 p.m.
The sound of tires rolling over the wet pavement broke the silence.
A black Toyota Century slowly glided up the slope. Its paint reflected a deep sheen under the dim streetlights, and opaque velvet curtains hung from the windows. Although it didn't have a golden chrysanthemum-patterned flag on the hood, its calm and imposing aura was instantly recognizable to anyone who frequented Nagatacho.
Before the vehicle even got close, a man in a black suit walked out of the guard post next to the gate.
The car window rolled down a crack, and a black magnetic card was handed out.
"drop."
The green light comes on.
The man handed back the card with both hands, took a step back, and saluted.
The two-ton cast iron gate behind them slid open silently under the push of the hydraulic rod, revealing a deep driveway paved with bluestone slabs.
The Toyota Century drove in.
Next up was a Mercedes S600 with blue diplomatic license plates.
Then came a dark gray Bentley.
There were no flashbulbs, no reporters surrounding them, and even the roar of engines was deliberately suppressed.
It was like a gathering of ghosts.
Forty-eight men, the most powerful and wealthiest men in all of Tokyo, who hold the lifeline of the nation, are silently gathering at this old aristocratic mansion, once known as the "haunted house," on this moonless night.
……
The main building's doors were pushed open by two waiters.
A warm aroma, a blend of old sandalwood, Cuban cigars, and aged whiskey, wafts over you.
This is not the kind of ostentatious, nouveau riche style.
The first thing you see is a large expanse of dark oak wainscoting, its color so deep it's almost black, a patina that has settled over the years. The floor is made of original teak, and walking on it produces a very subtle, reassuring thud. The crystal chandelier overhead isn't glaring; the light, after special refraction, softly spills onto the century-old Persian carpets.
In the main lounge, named "Deer Cry Hall," Bach's "Air on the G String" is playing softly.
Shuichi stood in front of the fireplace.
He was dressed tonight in a meticulously tailored black tuxedo suit, his bow tie perfectly tied. After a year of political maneuvering, the decadent air of a fallen aristocrat had completely vanished from his person.
Instead, there is an unfathomable composure.
Welcome!
Xiu Yi smiled and gave a slight bow to an elderly man who had just entered the room.
He was an elderly man with gray hair, leaning on a cane. The former director of the Ministry of Finance's Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics, and now the president of a large policy bank. In this country, he was one of the people who truly controlled the purse strings.
"Oh dear, Mr. Saionji."
The old man looked around and his gaze fell on the huge oil painting on the wall—a portrait of an ancestor of the Saionji family during the Meiji era.
"This place is really nice. It reminds me of the old Chinatown. Tokyo is too noisy now, with gilded pillars everywhere. It's this old-fashioned atmosphere that makes me feel at ease."
"I'm glad you like it," Xiu Yi replied gently. "We don't sell alcohol here, we only sell tranquility."
The waiter slid over silently, a glass of perfectly chilled single malt whisky on the tray.
The old man took the wine glass and walked towards the sofa area at the back of the hall.
Several people were already sitting there.
One of the core members of the Liberal Democratic Party's Takeshita faction was puffing on a cigarette, the smoke from his cigar swirling between his fingers.
The other was Goldman Sachs' chief representative in Tokyo, blond and blue-eyed, chatting fluently in Japanese with a zaibatsu president next to him.
Beneath the seemingly peaceful atmosphere, a subtle undercurrent was brewing.
"I heard that businesses in Meguro Ward haven't resumed operations yet?"
The Takeshita faction member lowered his voice and asked a question seemingly casually.
"Saionji has really offended Tsutsumi Yoshiaki this time. That barbed wire..."
The chaebol president next to him swirled his wine glass, the ice cubes making a crisp sound as they hit the glass.
"But I've heard that Saionji isn't backing down. The 1 billion yen offer is still sitting on Seibu's desk."
"That's the problem."
The councilor exhaled a smoke ring and glanced toward the doorway.
"Tonight is a critical moment. Yoshiaki Tsutsumi didn't come, nor did he send anyone. If these two families really break ties completely, those of us here will probably have to choose sides from now on."
We are all smart people.
While the Saionji family possesses bloodlines, their current strength is insufficient to rival the dominant Seibu Group. If joining The Club incurs Seibu's wrath, then this drink is burning hot.
Out of the corner of everyone's eye, they were all glancing at that door, whether intentionally or unintentionally.
They are waiting for a signal.
Just then.
An unusual noise came from the cobblestone path outside the door.
It wasn't the gentle gliding sound of a sedan, but a deeper, more imposing engine sound.
The conversation in the hall immediately quieted down.
Shuichi straightened his cuffs and calmly looked toward the doorway.
Two waiters opened the door.
A night breeze swept in, stirring the velvet curtains in the foyer.
A white Mercedes-Benz S600 Pullman extended armored vehicle, like a giant beluga whale, slowly came to a stop under the porch.
white.
In Tokyo's business world, there is practically only one person who would use such a high-profile color.
The entire room fell silent.
Everyone held their breath. Who would come down? Thugs to cause trouble? Or a lawyer to deliver an ultimatum?
The car door opened.
A long leg clad in dark gray trousers stepped out.
Immediately afterwards, a thin, middle-aged man wearing frameless glasses came down.
Shimada.
Chief confidential secretary to Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, Chairman of the Seibu Group.
He didn't bring any bodyguards; instead, he turned around himself and carefully took out a huge flower basket from the back seat.
An extraordinary flower basket.
The flower tower is woven from hundreds of top-quality white Phalaenopsis orchids, each petal is flawless, and it exudes a noble cool light under the lamp.
At the top of the flower tower, there is a handwritten wooden sign.
The handwriting is vigorous and powerful, exuding an undeniable air of authority.
[Congratulations to the head of the Saionji family on the grand opening of their business – Yoshiaki Tsutsumi]
Shimada held the flower tower, while the driver behind him carried an exquisite wooden box.
He showed no arrogance whatsoever, but instead wore an extremely polite smile, as if he wasn't the one who had a falling out with Xiu Yi earlier, and walked steadily into the hall.
"Mr. Saionji".
Shimada walked up to Shuichi, put down the flower tower, and then bowed deeply.
"The president is very busy with official duties and is unable to leave tonight. He specially instructed me to deliver this small gift as a token of his congratulations."
Shuichi looked at the wooden plaque with Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's name on it, and then at Shimada, who was all smiles.
I wasn't surprised.
It was as if this had been expected all along.
"President Tsutsumi is too kind."
Xiu smiled politely and extended his hand.
Shimada immediately reached out and grasped it, bending even lower at the waist.
"The president often says that the Saionji family is a distinguished family, and their integrity is admirable. Regarding what happened last time..."
Shimada lowered his voice slightly, so that only the two of them could hear it.
"That was because the staff below were inconsiderate. The chairman has already dealt with it. I hope it didn't affect your mood."
"Not at all."
Shuichi held Shimada's hand, a gentle smile on his face.
"It's inevitable that young people act impulsively. Things will get better after the storm."
This handshake, these words.
The smoke of battle in Meguro Ward, the extortion of one billion yen, the Metropolitan Police Department's operation that night... all the grudges were casually swept aside at this moment.
Shimada turned around, took the wooden box from the driver, and presented it with both hands.
"This is a bottle of 1978 Romanée-Conti from the president's private collection. The president said that good wine should be paired with distinguished guests. Only by opening this bottle here can it not be considered a waste."
The entire audience erupted in uproar.
Although everyone here is a worldly person, they were still stunned by this move.
This is more than just a bottle of wine.
This is Emperor Seibu bowing his head, an acknowledgment, and a signal of an alliance.
The previously somewhat tense member of the Takeshita faction instantly relaxed. He took a deep drag on his cigar and smiled at the person next to him, saying:
"It seems we don't need to worry about taking sides anymore."
"Indeed," the Goldman Sachs representative raised his glass, "Even Yoshiaki Tsutsumi has to give him face. It seems this Mr. Saionji is quite capable."
Shuichi took the wooden box and handed it to Fujita behind him.
"Please convey my gratitude to Chairman Dui. I will definitely pay him a visit another day."
"You're too kind."
Shimada bowed again.
"Then I won't disturb your enjoyment any longer. Farewell."
He came quickly and left quickly.
The white Mercedes slowly drove away and disappeared into the night.
But those brief five minutes completely altered the air density tonight.
The guests who were initially observing now looked at Shuichi with completely different eyes. If they had previously regarded the Saionji family as an old noble family with some background, they now saw a top player who could rival the current financial giants and even make them take the initiative to show goodwill.
The second floor.
The original master bedroom was transformed into a dimly lit, circular library.
In the shadows behind the railing, Satsuki sat on a high stool, holding a glass of deep purple grape juice.
She did not go downstairs.
In a setting filled with older men, the presence of a thirteen-year-old girl would be inappropriate. She preferred to remain hidden behind the curtain, observing every actor on stage, as she was doing now.
"Young Miss".
Fujita stood behind her, his voice filled with barely concealed excitement.
"That's Yoshiaki Tsutsumi... He actually sent a gift."
Is that strange?
Satsuki lightly tapped her finger against the glass, making a crisp sound.
"Grandpa Fujita, this is the adult world."
She looked downstairs. Shuichi was surrounded by several tycoon businessmen, chatting and laughing. The old man from the Ministry of Finance even offered Shuichi a cigarette.
"Kids hold grudges after fights; adults only care about their own interests."
Satsuki took a sip of grape juice, her gaze deep and unfathomable.
"If we just threw a tantrum on that land, Yoshiaki Tsutsumi would just send bulldozers to crush us. But he's a smart man and a politician."
"When he discovered that we not only had teeth that could bite him, but that those teeth were also connected to the Metropolitan Police Department and the old Chinese community..."
"He will then treat you as one of his own kind."
Satsuki smiled.
"In this circle, he'll only give you face if you can cause him trouble."
"This bouquet of flowers isn't for a friend."
"It's a gift for a 'respectable rival'."
Downstairs, Shuichi walked to the crystal chandelier in the center of the hall.
All conversations ceased. All eyes were fixed on the man.
At this moment, he stood there, with portraits of his ancestors behind him and the pinnacle of power before him.
"Everyone."
Shuichi raised his glass.
"In this crazy era, the outside world is changing every second. Today's friend may be tomorrow's enemy, and today's wealth may vanish tomorrow."
"But I wish that time would stand still in The Club."
"Here, we don't look at stock prices, we only look at character. We don't talk about grudges, we only talk about friendship."
Even if there's a raging storm outside, there's always a quiet glass of wine here.
"Cheers."
"Cheers!"
Forty-five crystal glasses were raised simultaneously.
The crisp sound of glass colliding echoed in the empty hall, like a pleasant melody.
That was the sound of power snapping together.
This was also the sound of the Saionji family being officially crowned.
Satsuki watched this scene from the second floor and drank the grape juice in her glass in one gulp.
"Cheers, Father."
She said softly.
"And... thank you for the flowers, Mr. Yoshiaki Tsutsumi."
"Although we will still charge you 1 billion yen, not a penny less."
She put down her cup, jumped off the chair, and turned to walk into the dark depths of the corridor.
Downstairs, the melodious sound of a violin began to play.
On this moonless, rainy night, in the Showa-era Rokumeikan, a masquerade ball about power and desire finally began.
The Saionji family is no longer the dance partner waiting to be invited.
They are the masters tonight.