I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 206 The Happiness of Mizukami! The Frenzy Brought by "Midnight Diner"!

"In the end, it's because we writers are too weak with our pens; we can't fight back against the powerful forces of capital." Ono angrily squeezed the bottle of barely drunk oolong tea, making a cracking sound. His young and sharp face was filled with the resentment and anger of an idealist who had been dealt a heavy blow by reality.

Kimura-senpai just shook his head with a wry smile. He started the car, and the old Toyota Century emitted a steady but slightly weary roar, like an old man who had seen through the ways of the world letting out a sigh in the dead of night.

Inside the carriage, the oppressive atmosphere and silence brought about by money lingered like a thick fog.

“But speaking of which, Kimura-senpai.” It was Suzuki, the bespectacled, refined-looking middle-aged film critic, who broke the suffocating silence first.

He pushed up his glasses, his eyes sparkling with curiosity: "You tell me... how much of a chance does TV Tokyo have of getting Hiroshi Nohara to direct this live-action version of 'Midnight Diner'? I admit that the manga is a masterpiece, but there's a bottomless dimensional barrier between manga and live-action drama. Even for Hiroshi Nohara, crossing that barrier won't be easy, will it?"

His words were like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, instantly creating ripples.

“It’s more than just difficult!” Ono immediately chimed in, seemingly having finally found an outlet for his restless “professionalism.” His voice was filled with certainty: “It’s hellish! Let me tell you, what’s the biggest taboo when adapting a manga into a live-action drama? It’s the deprivation of the ‘right to define’! Why is ‘Midnight Diner’ considered a masterpiece? It’s because it gave readers enough room for imagination! When we read a manga, each of us has our own image of the owner in our minds. What does his scar look like? What is his tone of voice like? What does his lard rice taste like?… These are all secondary creations we readers engage in with the work! It’s a very private experience, full of personal emotional projection!”

"But what about live-action dramas? They use a specific actor, a fixed setting, and an unquestionable method to tell you—this is what the boss looks like! This is what pork lard rice tastes like! They brutally and completely destroy the unique, imaginative world in the hearts of all our readers! It's like your pen pal, whom you've secretly loved for years, suddenly appears in front of you one day in a way you can't accept at all! That sense of disillusionment, that anger of betrayal, is enough to wipe out all the previous affection in an instant!"

Ono spoke with great passion and incisive insight; every word was like the most precise scalpel, accurately dissecting the core and most fatal pain point of the "live-action adaptation of manga" field.

“Ono is right.” Suzuki nodded. “In communication studies, this is called a conflict of ‘audience decoding.’ Manga provides an open text, while live-action drama provides a closed text. When the closed text deviates greatly from the open decoding result that the audience has already formed in their minds, it will inevitably trigger strong resistance. This is what is known as ‘the backlash from fans of the original work.’”

"And don't forget," he paused, his tone becoming more serious, "The core charm of 'Midnight Diner' lies not just in the food, but also in that unique 'atmosphere' that finds true flavor in the mundane. That unique loneliness and warmth in the dead of night, that unspoken understanding between people, so close yet distant… these are all very metaphysical things, very difficult to capture through the lens. It's not like an action film, which can be piled up with special effects. Nor is it like a romance film, which can be filled with melodrama. It requires the director to have an extremely profound insight and understanding of life and human nature. Hiroshi Nohara is talented, but he's only twenty-three years old. Can he really understand that kind of loneliness that belongs to middle-aged people, full of helplessness and compromise? I have reservations about that."

Silence fell over the carriage once again.

Ono and Suzuki, one after the other, analyzed almost every potential pitfall in bringing "Midnight Diner" to life.

That professionalism and rationality transformed this small Toyota Century into a mobile academic seminar venue brimming with elite atmosphere.

However, in this atmosphere filled with rationality and prudence, Kimura, who had been silent all along, suddenly chuckled softly.

"You two..." He steadily steered the wheel while looking through the rearview mirror at his two juniors, who seemed slightly taken aback by his laughter. His cloudy eyes gleamed with a worldly wisdom: "After all this talk, what you said is all correct. But you've both forgotten one thing, the most important thing."

"What is it?" the two asked in unison.

"Have you forgotten who wielded the knife?" A meaningful smile curved Kimura's lips, his eyes filled with an almost blind trust in the young man: "It was Hiroshi Nohara."

"A monster who never plays by the rules."

He paused, then casually tossed the empty bottle of oolong tea into the storage compartment beside him, his voice carrying a hint of the helplessness of someone who had been through it all.

"But then again, even if he really messes up this time, no matter how bad the final product is, it will definitely be a hundred times better than the 'Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree' that Qilin Group produced last year, right?"

"puff--"

Ono was the first to burst out laughing, his voice filled with undisguised contempt.

"Kimura-senpai! This is simply... an insult to Nohara-buchi! Comparing garbage like 'The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree' to Nohara-buchi's work? That's like comparing a pile of shit to a Michelin three-star kaiseki meal!"

"Hahahaha! Ono, your analogy, though crude, is absolutely brilliant!" Suzuki laughed along, pushing up his glasses, his eyes gleaming with schadenfreude. "Let me tell you, when I went to see the premiere of 'The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree' last year, I almost fell asleep in the theater! What kind of garbage was that?! The plot was as childish as a three-year-old playing house, and the dialogue was so awkward you could dig out a three-bedroom apartment from it! Apart from Kamiki Shunsuke's face being somewhat presentable, it was utterly worthless!"

"It's more than just utterly worthless!" Ono grew angrier as he spoke, even raising his fist in frustration. "That's supposed to be a sword and spear drama? It's clearly a period idol drama disguised as a sword and spear drama! The samurai in it are all rosy-cheeked and dressed more flamboyantly than courtesans! When they fight, they spin around in slow motion, taking longer to strike a pose than to actually kill anyone! I wanted to jump into the screen and slap each of them on behalf of the Warring States heroes they insulted!"

"The most ridiculous thing is that they actually dared to release their film at the same time as Nohara's 'Seven Samurai'!" Suzuki's face was full of anticipation. "And what happened? 'Seven Samurai' ultimately grossed 8.4 billion yen, breaking the box office record for domestic films in Japan! And what about that 'Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree'? Its final box office was a mere 800 million yen! Not even a fraction of the former! It's simply... a self-inflicted humiliation, a laughingstock!"

"Eight hundred million yen? I think that's too high!" Ono sneered, his voice full of disdain: "If it weren't for those brainless fans like Shunsuke Kamiki who desperately locked up and booked out theaters, I estimate that the movie's box office wouldn't even reach one hundred million! It's simply... a disgrace to the history of Japanese cinema!"

"That's why I said that," Kimura-senpai concluded with a smile, "This time is no different. Even if Hiroshi Nohara really messes up, even if his 'Midnight Diner' really doesn't suit the local taste and flops, at least what he made has a soul, it has warmth, and it's worth discussing and thinking about. As for 'South Island Afu and His Beloved Dog'? I can tell even with my toes that it's definitely the same kind of film as 'The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree,' a gorgeous but empty product built with popular stars and exquisite packaging."

"One is a work of art, even a failed one. The other is a commodity, even a successful one. Between the two, which is superior? Don't we writers have any idea in our hearts?"

His words were like the most accurate judgment, instantly drawing a mocking conclusion to this ratings war that hadn't even begun.

"However, on another note," a serious expression suddenly appeared on Suzuki's face, "Tokyo TV is a newly established company, so they're bound to make a big splash with their first project. I heard that apart from this original drama, 'South Island A-Feng and His Beloved Dog,' all their other prime-time programs are rebroadcast rights to popular shows from Kansai and Kyushu, which they bought at high prices. It's clear they're concentrating all their production and promotional resources on this one drama. They've gone all out in this battle, and they shouldn't be underestimated."

“Yes.” Ono nodded in agreement, a look of worry appearing on his face. “And I heard that they really went all out with the ‘publicity fees’ they paid to the media this time. When we go back, I’m afraid… we’ll have to go against our conscience and write some insincere praise articles again.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Kimura-senpai pulled out an exaggeratedly thick envelope from his pocket.

He casually tossed the envelope onto the dashboard, the dull thud striking the hearts of everyone present like a precise hammer blow.

"No wonder he's in real estate; he's always so generous." He chuckled self-deprecatingly, his voice filled with a sense of world-weariness and helplessness.

“Sigh…” Suzuki sighed deeply. He looked at the bulging envelope, and a hint of indescribable weariness flashed in his usually calm eyes. “Let’s go back and ask our colleagues what they think of the live-action ‘Midnight Diner’ first. At the very least, we need to have a general idea of ​​how to write it so that we don’t offend our clients, but also don’t go against our conscience.”

“How else can I write this?” Ono gave a bitter laugh. He threw the bottle of oolong tea, which he had already crushed beyond recognition, into the trash bag at his feet. His voice was filled with self-abandoned helplessness: “Tomorrow, I’ll just follow the press release they gave me and blow that Kamiki Shunsuke out of the sky. Things like ‘explosive acting skills,’ ‘his eyes are full of emotion,’ ‘he lost ten pounds for the role’… I could write three thousand words of these words with my eyes closed.”

"Hahahaha!" Suzuki couldn't help but laugh bitterly upon hearing this: "You're becoming more and more like the 'professional qualities' of our line of work."

"Professionalism?" Ono murmured, repeating the word over and over. He buried his head deeply in his arms, his voice muffled, with a barely perceptible sob in it.

"If this continues, I feel that my soul will soon be completely bought off by these damned capitalists."

The carriage fell into a deathly silence once again.

Only the dazzling yet cold Milky Way outside the window, formed by countless lights, silently watches over these three insignificant souls struggling between ideals and reality.

After a long while, Kimura-senpai finally started the car again.

"Let's go." His voice was soft, yet it was like the heaviest sigh, echoing in everyone's ears.

"Going home to write my article."

The black Toyota Century, like a silent beetle, quietly blended into the deep, sleepless night of Tokyo.

His voice was filled with endless sorrow.

'Jingle Bell--'

It wasn't until a sudden pager vibration broke the suffocating silence that a crack appeared, like the sharpest blade.

It was Ono. He frantically pulled the small black cube from his pocket, the faint light from the screen illuminating his young face, still etched with resentment.

"It's...it's a text message from Editor Mikami, asking me to get in touch!" He glanced at the number, his voice filled with a hint of relief, "Mikami from 'Eiga Namikaze'! He should have finished watching 'Midnight Diner' too!"

Before he could finish speaking, he impatiently parked his car on the side of the road and rushed toward the public phone booth that was still lit up not far away.

"Hey! Mikami-san! It's me, Ono! You...you watched it too?! That 'Midnight Diner'!" As soon as the call connected, Ono's excitement, which had been suppressed all night, erupted like a volcano. "How was it?! How was it?! What did you think?!"

On the other end of the phone came Mikami's equally excited, even slightly trembling voice: "What?! What the hell can I do?! I'm right here in the izakaya downstairs from my house! I rushed down as soon as I finished reading it! Let me tell you, Ono! Right now I just want to drink an ice-cold draft beer, get a plate of freshly grilled chicken skewers, and then shout three times at the moon—'Hiroshi Nohara!'"

"Hahahaha! Me too! That's what I thought too!" Ono laughed loudly, his voice filled with the exhilaration of finding a kindred spirit: "Which bar are you at? I'm coming right now! No! I'll call Kimura-senpai and Suzuki-senpai too! Tonight, we'll drink until we drop!"

"Alright! I'm at 'Bird Aristocrat' in Shinjuku 3-chome! Come quick! I'm waiting for you!"

After hanging up the phone, Ono rushed back to his car as if he had been injected with adrenaline. All the gloom on his young face had been swept away, leaving only a kind of almost crazy light ignited by pure love.

"Kimura-senpai! Suzuki-senpai! Let's go! Let's go for a drink! Editor Mikami is waiting for us! He said he wants to celebrate Nohara-cho's new work together!"

……

The night in Shinjuku 3-chome has less of the aloofness and arrogance of Ginza, and more of a down-to-earth, everyday charm.

The warm orange light from the "Tori no Kyushu" izakaya shone through the half-open wooden sliding door, illuminating the crooked red lanterns with "Yakitori" and "Draft Beer" written on them, giving them an enticing glow.

When Kimura and his two companions pushed open the door and entered, editor Mikami was already in a small booth by the window, having ordered a table full of delicious snacks to go with drinks.

Golden and crispy fried chicken nuggets, sizzling grilled chicken skewers, crisp and refreshing edamame, and seven or eight large glasses of ice-cold draft beer with thick foam.

There were also several of Mikami's friends nearby, who were also fellow editors or film critics.

They were all people who watched the live-action version of "Midnight Diner".

"Come, come! Sit down! Sit down!" As soon as Mikami saw them, he immediately greeted them with a big smile. His enthusiasm was as if it were not a gathering of colleagues, but a reunion of old friends who had not seen each other for many years.

Ono, Kimura, and Suzuki, the three editors and film critics, all sat down.

After exchanging a few simple, polite words...

The conversation naturally and immediately turned to the live-action version of Hiroshi Nohara's "Midnight Diner".

"Let me tell you, I just finished watching the first episode three times with editor Kishimoto!" Editor Mikami raised his glass, his usually gentle smile now filled with barely suppressed excitement: "That opening theme! It's absolutely amazing! Just a simple acoustic guitar, a very pure voice, yet it instantly melted my heart! I even think that this song alone is enough to win this year's Best TV Drama Soundtrack Award!"

“It’s not just the soundtrack!” An editor named Kishimoto next to him also raised his glass and clinked it heavily with his. The crisp sound was like the most rousing war drums. “And that boss! Seniors! Tell me, where did that Mizukami Sho come from?! I’ve searched through the entire database of the Japanese entertainment industry and can’t find any information about him from twenty years ago! He’s practically like… he just popped out of a rock specifically for this drama!”

“Yes!” another editor chimed in, “I originally thought that the live-action boss would definitely differ from the character in the comics in some ways. But I never expected that he would actually… actually be 100% accurate! No! I even think he’s more real and more charming than the boss in the comics! That kind of quiet gentleness and cold demeanor that hides a story is simply… alive!”

“That’s right! It’s ‘alive’!” Mikami slapped his thigh, his voice filled with undeniable certainty: “The boss in the manga is ultimately two-dimensional; we have to fill in the gaps in our imaginations. But the real-life boss breathes, thinks, and when you order, he’ll quietly watch you with those all-seeing eyes. When you’re feeling down, he’ll silently hand you a bowl of steaming hot pork lard rice. That feeling, that feeling of being gently watched over and healed by a real person, is something you can’t experience even after reading the manga a thousand times! That’s what makes the live-action version surpass the manga!”

While they were talking, Ono, Kimura, and Suzuki, who had just arrived, looked at each other in bewilderment.

They all watched the TV series "Nanto Afu and His Beloved Dog" on Tokyo TV.

I haven't even read Hiroshi Nohara's "Midnight Diner".

Now, looking at their colleagues at the table, chatting excitedly, they felt a mix of emotions.

"Is...is it really that good?" Ono couldn't help but ask, unable to contain his doubts.

He also said regretfully, "We accepted an invitation from Tokyo TV to attend an event there. We were watching the drama 'South Island Afu and His Beloved Dog' starring Shunsuke Kamiki. We missed it all! We didn't even get to see Hiroshi Nohara's 'Midnight Diner'!"

"Hmm." Kimura sighed and said, "From what you're saying now, it seems like... Hiroshi Nohara's live-action version of 'Midnight Diner,' which is really amazing?"

"Yeah, what do you guys think of this TV series?!" Suzuki asked as well.

Upon hearing their words, Mikami and Kishimoto immediately burst into laughter.

Although there wasn't much mockery, they looked at them with pity and each of them shared their opinions.

They were all compliments.

And then the last veteran editor spoke up: "I even feel that this drama is more than just a TV series."

He picked up his wine glass, took a small sip, and a kind of wisdom that seemed to have seen through the ways of the world shone in his cloudy eyes.

"It's more like a virtual community that Hiroshi Nohara built for us, the souls who wander alone in the city."

“Here, we are no longer isolated atoms. We are the gangster boss who likes to eat octopus sausages, the disillusioned singer who sings about his dreams in the dead of night, and the three single women in their late 30s who complain about men while yearning for love... We are each other's mirror and each other's comfort.”

"This resonance, this sense of belonging, is the most powerful, and also the most... terrifying, aspect of this drama."

The words of this veteran film critic were like the most accurate judgment, instantly giving this newly created work a level of significance that was almost "sociological".

"You're absolutely right, senior!"

"cheers!"

"For Minister Nohara!"

"For 'Midnight Diner'!" Seven or eight chilled beer mugs clinked together in mid-air, the crisp sound blending perfectly with the surrounding hustle and bustle filled with the warmth of everyday life.

These words stunned Ono, Kimura, and Suzuki, who hadn't watched "Midnight Diner".

I felt immense regret and frustration.

Especially when they thought about the appearance fee from Tokyo TV that they were still carrying in their pockets, their expressions became extremely complicated, and they didn't know how to write it tomorrow.

After all, that's the situation.

If I finish writing it, I'm sure I'll embarrass myself. After all, judging from the excitement and fervor of my colleagues, Hiroshi Nohara's live-action version of "Midnight Diner" is on par with another "Seven Samurai".

If it's not written properly...

So how are film critics like us, who make a living from appearance fees, supposed to explain this to Tokyo TV?

You know, "He who eats another's food is bound to him, and he who takes another's money is bound to him."

This is a very important matter of professional ethics!
"Everyone, please tell me in detail what I think of Hiroshi Nohara's 'Midnight Diner'," Ono pleaded, speaking first.

So Mikami explained it in detail.

After he finished speaking, he completely stunned the three of them.

However, at that moment, Ono suddenly thought of something. He put down his wine glass, and a fanatical look, almost like that of a pilgrim, appeared on his young face.

"Seniors!" He suddenly stood up from his seat, his bright eyes flashing with an undeniable determination: "What's the point of just drinking here?! Come on! I'll take you to a better place!"

"Go...go to the real 'Midnight Diner'!"

……

When the seven of them arrived at that familiar yet unfamiliar alley again in two taxis, the "spectacle" before them, comparable to the streets of Shibuya on New Year's Eve, left them all petrified on the spot.

The dense crowd, like fish forgotten on the beach after the tide has receded, completely blocked the already narrow alley.

The crowds, like ants, tirelessly made their pilgrimage towards that dim, yellow light source.

"My God... This... This is too exaggerated!" Ono stammered, looking at the long line that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. The shock that ran through his bones made him feel as if he were in a fantastical dream.

"This is...this is only the first episode! How...how come there are already so many people?!" Mikami exclaimed, his usually gentle smile now filled with disbelief.

“Listen, what are they talking about?” Suzuki pushed up his glasses, gesturing for everyone to listen carefully.

Amidst the clamor of the crowd, waves of excited and expectant discussions surged forth.

"Hey! How much longer until we get to the front? I came all the way from Ota Ward! Just to eat a bowl of cat food made by the owner himself!" A boy wearing a baseball uniform, who looked like a college student, was anxiously standing on tiptoe and looking ahead.

"Who knows! I heard that when they opened at nine o'clock tonight, there were already hundreds of people in line!" A similarly dressed companion next to him shrugged helplessly. "It's all Hiroshi Nohara's fault! He made this store look too attractive! Now all the night owls in Tokyo are probably here!"

"It's not just Tokyo!" At the other end of the line, a young woman dressed in a business suit, looking like an office worker, excitedly told her friend, who was also holding a camera, "The filming location of 'Midnight Diner'! On set! Real people! Alive! Wow! It's absolutely packed! Even more crowded than when we went to Disneyland last time! The owner is so handsome! So stylish! Just like on TV! Ah—! I feel like I'm about to faint from happiness!"

“I think the most amazing thing is the atmosphere!” Her best friend, dressed similarly, chimed in excitedly, her bright eyes filled with emotion: “Look, even though there are so many people and it’s so crowded, no one is arguing or complaining. Everyone is quietly queuing up, sharing their love for the show in hushed tones. It’s like… it’s like we’re really a family.”

"Yeah yeah……"

This sentiment immediately drew a chorus of agreement.

Mikami, Ono, Kimura, and others stood quietly on the outskirts of the crowd. Looking at the warm scene before them, their minds, which had long been numb from countless commercial flops, were stunned at this moment.

However, at that moment, several more taxis stopped at the alley entrance.

The car door opened, and a dozen or so young people, equally excited, rushed over, waving their cameras as if they had discovered a new continent.

"Wow—! Found it! Found it! This is it!"

"Hurry, hurry, hurry! Let's get in line! I heard if we're any later, we won't be able to get any!"

"Tomorrow's Saturday, no work! We'll stay here tonight and queue all night! I'm determined to eat the octopus sausage made by the owner himself!"

In just a few minutes, thirty or forty more people appeared out of nowhere at the end of the line.

"Sigh..." Ono sighed deeply, looking at the line in front of him that kept growing longer like a snake. His young face was filled with despair: "It's over, we definitely won't be able to eat tonight."

"If we can't eat, we can't eat." Mikami seemed quite open-minded. He shook his head with a smile, his eyes filled with a calm indifference that seemed to have seen through the world: "I think that being able to witness the birth of such a cultural phenomenon is much more meaningful than eating a meal."

"But..." Ono said, still somewhat unwillingly, "I...I really want to go in and take a look! Just one glimpse! To see what the real 'Midnight Diner' is like!"

Before he finished speaking, the wooden door deep in the alley, which had been the focus of countless gazes, suddenly creaked open a crack.

A pretty girl with a ponytail, wearing a middle school uniform, peeked out. Her face, slightly pale from fatigue, radiated a composure and pride beyond her years.

"I'm so sorry, everyone!" The girl's clear and loud voice, like a wind chime piercing the night, instantly silenced the noisy chatter in the alley: "We've run out of ingredients! My parents are so busy they can barely stand! Tonight's business is over! Thank you so much for your support!"

She bowed deeply to the dense crowd at the alley entrance.

"Eh--?!"

"there is none left?!"

"How could this happen! I've only been waiting in line for two hours!"

"Please! Little sister! Just let us in for a beer, please!"

A wail filled with disappointment and resentment suddenly erupted from the crowd.

However, amidst the commotion, a young woman dressed in a business suit, who looked like a white-collar worker, suddenly shouted something at the girl in uniform.

"Little sister! You...you must be the boss's daughter?! I...I'm a fan of your father! He acted so well in the TV series! Can we go in and take a picture with your father?"

"Yeah, yeah! Can we take a picture together?!"

"Yes! Your father is truly the best boss in our hearts! We'd like to take a photo with him!"

The crowd erupted in cheers once again, and all eyes, like the most intense searchlights, were focused on the girl named Mizukami Sayuri.

Upon hearing this, the girl paused for a moment, then a bright smile bloomed on her slightly tired face.

"No, that won't do. My father doesn't like taking photos with others or being famous. And if you're going to refuse, I'll say so. Please don't bother my father!"

She straightened her small back, and the pride that came from her very bones made her stand out: "Everyone should just focus on the dads in the TV series! We're just a regular late-night diner, open from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m.!"

She paused, then pulled the wooden door tighter, her tone pleading: "And my father is really tired, I hope everyone can understand!"

She then bowed.

Seeing this, the customers outside eventually had no choice but to disperse.

……

In the kitchen, the last bit of noise belonging to the night finally dissipated slowly, like the receding tide.

Sho Mizukami leaned wearily against the bar, feeling his arms were so sore he could barely lift them.

He watched as his wife, Misaki Mizukami, listlessly placed the last washed plate back into the cupboard, her usually gentle face now etched with utter despair.

"My back...it feels like it doesn't even belong to me anymore," Misaki Mizukami complained weakly, rubbing her lower back. Her voice held a hint of coquettishness. "I swear, I've never washed so many dishes in my entire life!!"

"Thank you for your hard work, Misaki." Mizukami Sho's face showed an apologetic smile as he stepped forward and gently massaged his wife's shoulders.

"What's the use of just saying it's hard!" Misaki Mizukami rolled her eyes at him, but there was a hint of sweetness in her eyes.

She turned her head and looked at the scar on her husband's face, which looked particularly attractive under the dim light, and his eyes that seemed to see through everything. She couldn't help but mutter something that was both funny and annoyed.

"Especially just now! Didn't you see it?! Those girls in pink sweaters at the bar! The way they looked at you, it was like they wanted to devour you alive! They were all saying 'Boss is so handsome,' 'Boss is so gentle,' it gave me... I got goosebumps!"

As she spoke, she imitated the girls, using a high-pitched, coquettish voice to call out twice. Her adorable jealous expression made Mizukami Shoto burst out laughing.

"Alright, alright, don't be angry." He smiled and shook his head, gently pulling his wife into his arms: "In my heart, you are the most beautiful."

"Hmph, you smooth talker." Although Misaki Mizukami said this, she still obediently rested her head on her husband's broad and warm chest.

“But speaking of which,” she suddenly thought of something, and looked up sharply, her usually gentle eyes filled with worry, “you’ve been busy all day, and tomorrow… are you going to the film set to shoot again tomorrow? Can your body handle it?”

"Don't worry, it'll be easy even if you go tomorrow." Mizukami Sho smiled and shook his head.

"Not easy? Why?" Misaki Mizukami asked, puzzled.

“Because…” A helpless yet admiring smile appeared on Mizukami Sho’s face: “Minister Hiroshi Nohara is really too strong! All I had to do was follow his instructions. The details were beyond my ability to describe.”

"Huh?!" Misaki Mizukami's eyes widened again.

Just then, her daughter's clear voice came from outside the bar again.

"Dad! Mom! Come out and see!"

Upon hearing this, the two quickly helped each other out of the kitchen.

Their daughter, Mizukami Sayuri, had already dismissed the guests and closed the shop door. She was standing next to the cash register, holding a thick envelope in her small hand, her face beaming with uncontrollable joy.

"Guess how much money we made tonight?!"

"How many?"

"110,000 yen! A whole 110,000 yen!" Sayuri was so excited she couldn't speak coherently. She looked at her parents, her eyes filled with uncontrollable elation: "My God! We used to work hard for weeks and still couldn't earn this much money! This... this is simply unbelievable!"

Upon hearing this, Mizukami Yoshikazu and Mizukami Misaki also showed a kind smile on their faces.

"Yes, this is the advertising effect that Mr. Nohara brought us," Mizukami Sho said softly, his tone tinged with emotion.

“No! This isn’t just an advertising effect!” Misaki Mizukami exclaimed excitedly, looking at her husband with eyes full of boundless anticipation for the future. “This is…this is the beginning of our new life! With this money, we can give Sayuri a better life! We…we can also go on vacation to Hawaii and shop in Paris, just like those rich people!”

Looking at his wife's face, flushed with happiness, Mizukami Sho reached out and hugged his wife and daughter tightly: "Yes, Misaki, Sayuri!"

"From now on, I will definitely make sure you and your daughter live a good life."

He paused, a hint of unspoken pride in his voice: "We...we'll soon be rich."

"Mmm!" Misaki Mizukami and Sayuri nodded heavily, burying their heads deep into the man's broad and warm chest. The happiness that came from the bottom of their hearts made them feel as if they had the whole world.

"It's so good to have met Mr. Nohara," Misaki Mizukami murmured to herself, her voice filled with overwhelming sweetness and gratitude.

“Yes,” Mizukami Shoya sighed, looking out the window. His heart, which had been dormant for twenty years, began to beat violently again at that moment.

"That's great."

(End of this chapter)