mesbooks Chapter 60 Golden Light Through the Crack in the Door
Chapter 60 Golden Light Through the Crack in the Door
At the end of November 1987, the air in Tokyo was filled with gold dust.
Since the earth-shattering "Black Monday" last month, the Western-style mansion hidden deep in the Dark Side of Azabu-Juban has become a legend.
In high-class clubs in Ginza, in ryotei in Akasaka, and even in the council chamber in Nagatacho, the conversations always revolve around that old Western-style building—The Club.
This is no longer a simple "members-only club." After the global financial catastrophe, it has been imbued with a certain superstitious aura.
Those in the know discovered that everyone who escaped unscathed from "Black Monday" was a member of that club.
Legend has it that it was "Noah's Ark of the Showa era".
Rumor has it that whoever obtains that black magnetic card will receive a boarding notice before the next tsunami arrives.
And so, Tokyo went mad.
Countless newly rich who lost their way after becoming rich overnight, and countless real estate tycoons who waved their money but could not find a sense of belonging, flocked to Azabu-Juban like moths to a flame.
A membership fee of 100 million yen? Nobody bargained. Some even brought 300 million yen in cash, begging for a spot.
But the gate was tightly closed.
The Saionji family has a strict rule: they will not accept any money without a handwritten recommendation letter from a current member.
This extreme exclusivity, ironically, has multiplied The Club's value. Within Tokyo's high society, it has even fostered an invisible hierarchy of disdain:
Those who haven't heard of The Club are ordinary people.
Those who have heard of it but can't get in are nouveau riche.
Those who can go in and sit in the hall to drink are "important people".
Those who are invited to the second-floor study for tea... are the true "crew members".
Even Wall Street, known as the mecca of finance, was severely damaged by "Black Monday," yet The Club managed to lead its members out of the fray with ease, just as predicted.
Nobody knows how deep the water is here, but everyone knows... there are definitely benefits to getting into that club.
Of course, simply squeezing in isn't enough; that only makes you someone of importance. Only by gaining the approval of the Saionji family, the organizers of The Club, can you secure a ticket before the next disaster strikes.
Although the Saionji family has never publicly acknowledged this distinction, the line between "peripheral members" and "core members" is like an invisible glass wall, standing in everyone's mind.
Those outside the wall want to get in.
Those inside the wall want to climb higher.
This was Tokyo in 1987, a decadent and extravagant era filled with desire and class anxiety.
……
It's 11 p.m.
A gleaming silver Rolls-Royce Silver Spur slowly drove into the streets of Azabu-Juban.
This flamboyant, even somewhat gaudy, color stands out starkly on the streets at night. But to the car's owner, it's a symbol of power.
Eguchi Tokuhiro sat in the back seat, somewhat awkwardly tugging at the tie around his neck.
He is 45 years old and the president of Eguchi Real Estate. Three years ago, he was just a real estate agent dealing in secondhand properties in Saitama Prefecture. Riding the wave of soaring land prices, he was daring and aggressive, even daring to borrow money at high interest rates to hoard land. Now he is a newly minted tycoon with a net worth of tens of billions.
In front of his subordinates, he was an absolute tyrant; in front of the Ginza madam, he was a lavish patron.
But tonight, his palms were sweaty.
He touched the inside pocket of his suit jacket. There was a letter there.
This letter was the "stepping stone" he obtained after spending half a year and using countless connections to finally pay off a debt of 300 million yen for a noble count who was affected by "Black Monday".
The count, his fingers trembling as he counted the money, signed his name on the letter of recommendation and looked at him with a complex expression, saying, "Mr. Eguchi, this place is unlike any other you've been to. Once inside, speak little and observe much."
Speak less, observe more.
Jiangkou took a deep breath.
"parking."
He shouted when he was still two hundred meters away from Dark Slope.
"President? We're not even at the door yet." The driver asked, somewhat puzzled.
"Shut up. Stop when I tell you to."
How come I never noticed before how clueless this kid is? I'll fire him when we get back.
Jiang Kou muttered to himself as he opened the car door.
He knows the rules.
The real big shots drive right in. But he's a newcomer, a nouveau riche who made his fortune buying land. If he were to drive this silver Rolls-Royce and park it right at the entrance, he'd probably be looked down upon by the people inside before he even got out.
On this slope, being low-key is the greatest form of showing off.
Eguchi straightened his Zegna suit, which was custom-made in Italy and worth two million yen, and stepped onto the secluded slope.
The streetlights were dim.
The higher you go, the farther away the noise becomes.
When he reached the end of the slope, the legendary cast-iron gate appeared before him.
The black iron railings appeared cold and solemn in the night. The stone pillars on both sides were covered with moss, exuding a sense of the vicissitudes of time.
Jiang Kou's gaze immediately fell on the family crest above the doorpost.
Left three-pointed bark.
Three black, comma-shaped patterns, connected end to end within a golden ring, rotate to the left. The lines are fluid and sharp, like a giant vortex, threatening to suck in all who gaze upon it.
Jiang Kou felt a tightness in his throat and awkwardly tugged at his tie.
Good evening, Mr. Eguchi.
At that moment, a security guard in a black uniform walked out of the guard post.
Jiang Kou paused for a moment.
"You...know me?"
He swore he had never been here before, nor had he handed out his business card.
"Yes, Mr. Eguchi. Count Kujo's letter of recommendation arrived yesterday." The security guard's expression remained unchanged, maintaining his polite smile. "Furthermore, your suit is a limited edition from Zegna's Fall 1987 collection; only three people in all of Tokyo ordered it. It's very easy to recognize."
The hairs on Jiang Kou's back stood on end.
Even security guards have this kind of insight?
"This is my identification."
Jiang Gu handed over the letter of recommendation and his business card with both hands. His movements unconsciously became respectful, as if he were facing a tax inspector.
"Please come in."
The security personnel accepted the letter with both hands, then stepped aside and bowed slightly.
The door slid open silently.
Jiang Kou stepped over the threshold.
At that moment, he felt as if he had crossed not an iron gate, but the boundary between two worlds.
……
Jiang Kou had no idea how he had gotten through the garden filled with precious plants and trees. When he came to his senses, he was already standing in front of the main building.
The main building's doors were pushed open by a waiter.
A faint fragrance wafted over.
It blends the unique aroma of old sandalwood, aged whiskey, and genuine leather sofas that have been aged for many years.
Jiangkou stepped onto the carpet.
This carpet... is too thick.
The soft, yielding sensation underfoot felt like walking on a pile of fallen leaves in late autumn, completely absorbing the sound of footsteps.
He looked around.
There's no glaring light from crystal chandeliers here; all the light sources are indirect, casting a soft glow on the dark oak wainscoting. The walls aren't adorned with abstract modern art, but rather with original ukiyo-e prints whose colors alone suggest their age.
The occasional clinking of porcelain cups and low murmurs of conversation could be heard from inside the hall.
"Welcome, Mr. Eguchi."
A butler in a tailcoat approached, carrying a silver tray.
"Following your usual practice, this is Hibiki's 21st year, plus hockey."
Eguchi was stunned.
He really loved drinking this, but he never told anyone.
"How did you...?"
"In this room, understanding the guests' preferences is the foundation of service," the butler said with a smile, a smile as precise as if measured with a ruler. "Also, Count Kujo mentioned that you prefer a window seat. That one has already been reserved for you."
Jiang Kou, holding his wine glass, walked somewhat stiffly towards that corner.
He sat down and took a sip of wine.
The ice puck rolled on the tip of my tongue, and the spicy liquid slid down my throat.
He took a deep breath and began to examine the place that haunted his dreams.
I don’t know, I’m scared.
The bald old man sitting on the sofa to the left... isn't that the director of the Banking Bureau of the Ministry of Finance? I saw him on TV last week, speaking sternly about financial regulation, but now he's smiling and playing Go with an old lady in a kimono.
The man on the right smoking a cigar... Good heavens, that's the managing director of Mitsubishi Heavy Industries!
That foreigner... is he from Goldman Sachs?
And over there...
The woman kneeling on the carpet, brewing tea for a member of parliament… he recognized her; she was a very famous idol.
Jiang Kou felt his hands trembling.
His billions in wealth might have given him confidence in that Rolls-Royce. But in this room, in front of these people who control the fate of Japan, it all seemed so pale and powerless.
This isn't where they sell alcohol.
Rather, it is class.
It's that sense of privilege that once you're inside, you don't want to leave.
"Have you heard?"
I heard hushed conversation coming from the next table.
"SA has recently been acquiring a large amount of logistics land in Chiba."
"Yes, I received the news as well. Mr. Saionji seems to be optimistic about the future of the logistics industry."
"Since he's the one who's interested... then I'll have my secretary secure those docks in Yokohama tomorrow as well."
"Want to place a bet?"
"Of course we'll follow. When have we ever suffered a loss by following the Saionji family?"
Eguchi pretended to sit casually in the chair. But in reality, he had his ears perked up, desperately trying to hear every word.
This is intelligence.
These few casual remarks, if made public, could be worth more than a billion yen!
He finally understood why the 300 million yen referral fee was worth it.
Just then.
The air in the hall seemed to freeze for a moment.
The people who had been talking in hushed tones stopped talking and turned their gazes toward the stairwell on the second floor.
Eguchi followed the gaze of the crowd.
A man was walking down slowly.
He wore a dark gray haori and white socks with wooden clogs. His face wasn't particularly handsome, but his gentle, refined, yet unfathomable aura made it impossible to look away.
Shuichi Saionji.
The owner of the Club.
The man who led half of Tokyo's high society to safety on "Black Monday".
Xiu Yi did not stop his speech, nor did he make a point of greeting anyone.
He was just passing by.
But as he moved around, the big shots in the hall—those bureau chiefs, presidents, and councilors who were so arrogant outside—all put down their wine glasses, bowed slightly, or nodded in greeting.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized, conveying a deep sense of awe.
It's like a pack of wolves bowing down to the passing wolf king.
Xiu kept his eyes straight ahead, only occasionally nodding with a smile. His gaze swept across the entire room, pausing for about half a second when it passed the corner where Jiang Kou was.
It was just a half-second of eye contact.
Jiang Kou felt as if his heart had been squeezed by a giant hand.
In those eyes, there was only a calm that saw through everything.
It was as if Jiang Kou's petty thoughts, his nouveau riche's inferiority complex and ambition, were all seen through in that one glance.
Shuichi walked through the hall and disappeared into the corridor leading to the back garden.
Only after his figure had completely disappeared did the conversation in the hall resume.
But that sense of oppression still lingered in the air.
Jiang Kou was slightly out of breath and realized that his back was already sweating.
He glanced at the whiskey in his hand.
The ice puck inside had melted halfway.
"Is this... the core?"
Jiang Kou muttered to himself.
He originally thought that as long as he paid the money and entered the door, he would be a member of this circle.
But now he understands.
He only bought a standing ticket.
Real power doesn't reside in this luxurious hall. Rather, it lies behind the tightly closed door of the study on the second floor, in a casual remark uttered by the man in the haori.
He looked at the dark railing on the second floor.
An unprecedented ambition ignited in Jiang Kou's heart.
He was unwilling to be just a spectator.
He was unwilling to just eavesdrop on other people's inside information.
He wanted to go up.
He wanted to be the one who could say to Shuichi Saionji, "Shuichi-kun, wanna have a drink tonight?"
"call……"
Jiang Kou downed the drink in one gulp.
"Another one, please."
He said to the butler.
"Also, please keep an eye out for which piece of land Mr. Saionji is interested in lately."
"Although Eguchi Real Estate is just a new company, if Mr. Saionji needs it..."
Jiang Kou gritted his teeth, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.
"I'm willing to be the vanguard who charges ahead."
The butler maintained his perfect smile, pouring the wine while speaking softly:
"I will record your kind intentions."
"At The Club, opportunity always favors the prepared mind."
Eguchi held the cold wine glass, looking at the three-pointed star pattern imprinted on the coaster.
Those were three spinning vortexes.
It is also a beacon in this crazy era.
He knew he could never go back.
Having seen the scenery above the clouds, who would want to go back to wallowing in the mud?
Even if it means crawling, we must climb to the top.