November 15, 1988, 2:00 PM
Bunkyo Ward, Saionji Main Family Residence Annex
Inside the tea room named "Saishin," the air seemed frozen. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the shoji doors, casting dappled shadows on the tatami mats as dust motes drifted slowly in the beams of light.
Three men sat in seiza around a long red sandalwood table.
They were all elites from the Saionji branch families, figures who commanded respect in their respective fields. But now, in this room filled with the scent of old-fashioned incense, they were like a group of students awaiting judgment.
Seated on the far left was Cousin Kenta, forty-two years old and the current department head of a major general trading company. He frequently picked up his teacup, only to set it down after barely wetting his lips. His gaze kept drifting toward the tightly closed mahogany doors.
In the middle was Cousin Jirō, thirty years old, a former bureaucrat who had recently resigned from MITI to enter the private sector. His back was ramrod straight and his hands were placed properly on his knees, but his unconsciously rubbing fingertips betrayed his state of mind.
On the far right was Saionji Masato. Thirty-four years old, formerly a senior manager in the Strategic Department of IBM Japan. He sat quietly, even finding the leisure to observe the composition of the flower arrangement in the corner of the tea room.
No one spoke.
Yet beneath this dead silence, undercurrents still surged through the air.
Over the past year, the Main Family's business had grown immensely. From the Crystal Palace in Ginza to the Pink Building in Akasaka, and then to the rumored gold mine that was the S.A. Group, along with all sorts of rumors that sounded almost surreal. Those astronomical profits had made everyone within the family green with envy.
Anyone could see that the great ship of the Main Family was sailing toward unprecedented heights.
And today was the chance to board that ship.
The Head of the Family had sent word that he was selecting a helmsman for the newly established and mysterious "Saionji Information System (SIS)."
The bloody battle for a spot was best left unmentioned. The victors were these three men sitting in the meeting room.
"Young Master Kenta, the Head of the Family requests your presence."
The old butler Fujita pushed open the door and bowed slightly.
Kenta stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the cushion behind him. Realizing he had lost his composure, he cleared his throat awkwardly, quickly straightened his suit, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
The door closed.
Only Masato and Jirō remained in the tea room.
"I heard Brother Kenta prepared a two-hundred-page business plan," Jirō said, staring straight ahead, his voice kept very low. "He wants to sell that system to small and medium-sized enterprises all over Tokyo."
Masato adjusted his glasses and responded flatly, "It's a diligent idea."
"What use is diligence?" Jirō chuckled softly. "This is the era of 'control.' Without rules, even the best technology is just a heap of loose sand."
Masato didn't respond. He knew Jirō wanted to manage the company using the bureaucratic approach.
He didn't want to argue with him either. He could only say that each had their own advantages, and ultimately it would depend on what the Main Family's expectations were.
Ten minutes later, the door opened.
Kenta walked out.
The "victory-is-mine" aura he had when he entered was completely gone. His face was pale, a fine layer of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he was clutching the business plan that hadn't been accepted.
He didn't look at the other two. He simply bowed slightly to Fujita and left with unsteady steps.
The atmosphere in the room became even more oppressive.
"Young Master Jirō, please." Fujita's voice rang out again.
Jirō straightened his tie and walked in with his head held high.
Masato glanced at his watch.
This time was even faster.
After only five minutes, Jirō came out.
The arrogant composure of this former MITI elite had shattered. He pursed his lips, his eyes filled with confusion and a hint of fear. It was as if he hadn't faced a benevolent elder inside, but a completely incomprehensible monster.
He even forgot to greet Fujita and walked straight out of the annex doors.
Masato was the only one left in the tea room.
With the failure of the previous two, that invisible pressure had accumulated to its peak.
Masato took a deep breath and adjusted his breathing rhythm. He knew Kenta wanted to sell products and Jirō wanted to manage people. But both had failed.
So, what did the Main Family actually want?
Masato, think fast.
"Young Master Masato." Fujita appeared at the door and stepped aside to make way. "It's your turn."
Masato stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He didn't bring any business plan, nor did he bring a resume.
He only brought his brain.
Inside the main study
The heavy curtains were half-drawn, so the light wasn't blinding.
Saionji Shuichi sat behind a large desk. He simply sat there quietly, fiddling with a fountain pen.
The desktop was clean, with only a few photos.
In the photos was a man named Shimomura Tsutomu, wearing a greasy hoodie and eating pizza amidst a messy pile of servers.
"Sit."
Shuichi's voice was very soft.
Masato sat down as told.
"Kenta said he wants to sell this system to ten thousand companies and generate a billion in revenue." Shuichi pointed at the photo. "Jirō said he wants to put these technicians in uniforms, implement a clock-in system, and regulate their behavior."
Shuichi looked up, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses scrutinizing Masato.
"Both are very reasonable. But I rejected them both."
He pushed the photos in front of Masato.
"Masato, you've been at IBM. If it were you, how would you handle this situation? I want to hear the truth."
Masato glanced at the photos.
That chaotic, disorderly environment made this elite, accustomed to standardized management, feel instinctively uncomfortable. But he didn't rush to comment. Instead, he keenly caught the trap in Shuichi's words.
If it were for selling products, Kenta would be right. If it were for managing a company, Jirō would be right.
Since they were both wrong, it meant... the core purpose of this company was neither to sell nor to manage.
"In this case, conventional management logic is ineffective."
Masato adjusted his glasses, his voice calm.
"Oh?" Shuichi raised an eyebrow.
"Brother Kenta wants to sell products, and Brother Jirō wants to manage discipline. But in my view, the core value of this company currently has nothing to do with products or discipline."
Masato pointed at Shimomura Tsutomu in the photo.
"The value lies in this person and what is inside his head."
"In my evaluation system, Chief Technology Officer Shimomura Tsutomu does not belong to the category of 'employee.' He is a 'high-value, high-risk core asset.'"
Masato paused and gave his conclusion.
"When dealing with such an asset, 'management' is the wrong approach. 'Maintenance' is the correct one."
Shuichi leaned forward slightly, a hint of interest appearing in his eyes.
"Continue."
"Precision instruments require constant temperature and humidity. Geniuses require emotional stability and life management."
Masato held up two fingers.
"I suggest implementing a 'dual-track system.' Physically isolate administrative management rights from technical research and development rights. The CEO will be responsible for handling all external interference, government public relations, and commercial monetization, acting as the 'interface.'"
"And as for the technical team..."
Masato thought for a moment.
"The company needs to hire a professional 'Logistics Support Group.' That is, life assistants and security personnel who have undergone special training."
"They will be stationed at the company twenty-four hours a day, responsible for the technicians' diet, daily life, and health management. On the surface, this is service. In essence, it is 'asset maintenance' and 'risk control.'"
"We must ensure that this 'expensive human computer' can remain in its optimal operating state twenty-four hours a day, while cutting off all unnecessary physical contact with external competitors."
The room fell silent.
Only the wall clock continued to tick.
Shuichi looked at his cousin, who was a few years younger than himself.
He didn't talk about so-called family sentiment, nor did he promise ephemeral sales figures, or even show any sycophancy toward the Head of the Family.
Efficiency and control.
This was the core point of the proposal he had provided.
And this was exactly what his daughter wanted.
"A very calm judgment."
Shuichi took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a satisfied smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"No talk of feelings, only assets. This is good."
He opened a drawer and took out an employment contract that had already been stamped, along with a brass key.
"You're hired."
Shuichi pushed the key toward Masato.
"This is the key to the Shinbashi office. Regarding the 'Logistics Support Group' you mentioned, the Main Family will directly assign trained personnel to be stationed there, with the costs listed as security expenses."
Masato took the key. The cold metallic touch finally allowed his tense nerves to relax a little. He knew he had made the right bet.
"Masato."
Shuichi's voice suddenly dropped a bit lower.
"In this company, the technology is a black box. You are the interface responsible for monetizing the output of that black box. As long as you can ensure the financial statements look good, how you do it is your freedom."
"But one thing."
Shuichi stared at Masato.
"Do not attempt to understand or interfere with the core code. That is not a field you can control. That is directly governed by 'those above.'"
Masato felt a chill in his heart.
He naturally knew who "those above" referred to. It was the rumor circulating within the family about that eldest young lady.
"I understand," Masato lowered his head, his tone respectful. "Professional people do professional things. I am only responsible for the profit and loss statement."
"Go now."
Shuichi waved his hand.
The moment he stepped out of the study, the heavy mahogany door closed behind him with a dull thud.
Masato stood in the hallway and let out a soft breath. The shirt on his back was already somewhat damp. A chill crept up his spine, making him subconsciously grip the cold brass key in his hand.
He walked out along the corridor covered in a deep red carpet.
The afternoon sun shone diagonally through the carved glass windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air with perfect clarity.
Masato was not ecstatic about getting the position. On the contrary, he felt a deep sense of coldness. The interview just now was less about him demonstrating his ability and more about him passing a test. And he had delivered a perfect score.
As he passed the corner of the stairs on the second floor leading to the inner courtyard, a slender figure blocked his way.
Saionji Satsuki.
She was wearing the deep blue uniform of Seika Academy, leaning against a pillar in the corridor, holding a tin of fish food and carelessly scattering it into the pond outside the railing.
Hearing footsteps, she turned around.
The sunlight hit the side of her face, making those clear, dark eyes look exceptionally beautiful.
"Congratulations, Uncle Masato."
Satsuki's voice was crisp, and a proper smile hung at the corners of her mouth.
"It seems you've obtained the key."
Masato stopped and looked at the girl before him, who was only fifteen years old. Although her tone was congratulatory, Masato instead felt a sense of pressure, as if being scrutinized by a superior.
He adjusted his glasses, quickly composed himself, and bowed slightly.
"It is thanks to the Head of the Family and the El... and you."
"No need to be so formal."
Satsuki handed the fish food tin to Fujita Tsuyoshi behind her and patted the crumbs off her hands.
"Since you've passed the test, it means that in Father's eyes, you are a qualified precision instrument."
She walked up to Masato, looked up, and stared directly into his eyes behind the lenses.
"Instruments don't need rest, do they?"
Masato felt a chill. Here it came. Rumors said the eldest young lady loved to speak in all sorts of riddles, and one had to accurately grasp her intentions.
"Of course," he replied after only half a second of thought. "It can run at any time."
"Very good."
Satsuki nodded with satisfaction.
Masato observed her expression and immediately breathed a sigh of relief.
"The car is already prepared at the entrance."
She stepped past Masato, her skirt fluttering in a light breeze.
"Let's go, Uncle Masato. I'll go with you."
"To... Shinbashi?" Masato was stunned for a moment, then followed.
"Of course."
Satsuki walked downstairs without looking back.
"If I don't go see for myself, how will I know if that expensive 'biological computer' needs lubricating oil?"
"And..."
Her voice drifted back.
"As CEO, you also need someone to help you hold the fort. That group of technical lunatics can't be controlled just by an appointment letter."
Masato looked at that petite figure, his steps pausing for a second.
He suddenly understood his position.
In this massive family machine, Shuichi was the face, and Satsuki was the substance. And he, Saionji Masato, was the arm chosen to execute their will, a calculator stripped of redundant emotions and responsible only for outputting efficiency.
This naked relationship of utility instead gave him an unprecedented sense of security and excitement.
In the world of capital, being used means you have value.
"Yes."
Masato held his head high and followed.
To be used by this young lady, he felt deeply honored.