Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Kitahara Iwa stared at the business card on his fingertip, the temperature in his eyes plummeting to freezing point in an instant.

He knew all too well what kind of vicious fangs lurked beneath the glamorous exterior of this firm.

"Sachiko..."

Kitahara Iwa didn't return the business card to her; instead, he placed it face down on the table, his voice suddenly turning somber.

Kitahara Iwa's low tone made Kamachi Sachiko, who was full of anticipation, subconsciously feel that something was wrong. She then sat up straight and the smile on her face gradually disappeared.

"Ken-On is indeed a behemoth in the industry, but it's not the right place for you. To be precise, it's not the right place for a living person."

"...Unsuitable for living people?"

Upon hearing Kitahara Iwa's words, Kamachi Sachiko was instantly stunned, a hint of confusion flashing in her eyes.

"Look at Akina Nakamori's current situation, and you'll understand."

Seeing Sachiko's confusion, Kitahara Iwao explained, "She is indeed a top-tier songstress right now, but have you noticed that she's getting thinner and thinner on TV lately, and her eyes are becoming more and more broken?"

"She is being drained of her life by a well-known toxic relationship and the power behind that man."

"But what did her agency do? Even knowing that she was on the verge of collapse under such mental torture, they still gave her a dense schedule of announcements and even used this tragic situation as a selling point."

"In the face of such a behemoth of capital, artists are not flesh and blood people, but just a string of numbers on a financial statement, a breathing commodity."

"As long as she can still sing and earn money, the agency will squeeze every last drop of blood out of her, like squeezing a battery."

"And what if one day she really can't hold on and collapses, or becomes worthless because of the scandal..."

At this point, Kitahara Iwa sneered and turned to look at the stunned Sachiko Kamachi: "They won't save her; they'll just sever ties immediately and then quickly go looking for the 'next Nakamori Akina'."

"Sachiko, Ken-on can indeed provide you with top-tier resources."

"But the price is that you have to offer yourself up as a sacrifice, completely offering yourself to capital. Are you prepared to become the kind of commodity that can be replaced at any time?"

"Once you're in danger or disobey, they're the executioners who push you off a cliff."

Kitahara Iwao stared into Sachiko's eyes and said, word by word, "What's even more terrifying is that they are used to using unfair terms to stifle the personalities of their artists."

Then Kitahara Iwa pointed to the microphone in Sachiko's hand: "If you go, they will never allow you to sing that kind of powerful rock music."

"They will force you into a mold called 'pure idol,' make you fake smile, and make you sing those soulless pop songs."

"That kind of place can give you fame, but it can also completely destroy your soul."

As Kitahara Iwa finished speaking, the narrow private room fell into a deathly silence, with only the faint hum of the ventilation fan blades echoing in the air.

Sachiko Kamachi stared blankly at the business card on the table.

Just minutes before, this piece of paper was a golden ticket to her dreams.

But at this moment, after hearing about Akina Nakamori, the gold-plated lettering above seemed to turn into man-eating mouths, as if preparing to tear him apart.

A chill ran down my spine.

Although she had vaguely heard that the entertainment industry was chaotic, this was the first time someone had so blatantly and cruelly torn away that glamorous veil in front of her.

Sachiko Kamachi swallowed hard and slowly raised her head to look at Iwao Kitahara in front of her.

In this Tokyo filled with lies and temptations, only this man was willing to tell me these unpleasant truths.

Thinking of this, the confusion and hesitation in my eyes faded away along with the chill, replaced by unwavering trust.

"I see."

Sachiko Kamachi took a deep breath, as if to expel all the fear that had been building up in her chest.

Then she reached out, grabbed the business card on the table, and without the slightest hesitation or lingering attachment, clenched her fingers tightly.

With a crisp sound of paper tearing, the business card, representing top-tier resources, was crumpled into a ball of waste paper.

pat.

The crumpled paper traced an arc and landed precisely in the dirty ashtray filled with cigarette butts.

"Since Kitahara-kun says it's hell, then I won't go."

Sachiko Kamachi looked at the crumpled paper in the ashtray, then raised her head, revealing a bright smile as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and said, "In this world, I trust your judgment more than the promises of those big companies."

"Thank you for stepping on the brakes for me, Kitahara-kun."

After doing all that, the two looked at each other and smiled, the heavy and oppressive topic from before being discarded along with that piece of waste paper.

At this moment, Sachiko Kamachi picked up her oolong tea and took a small sip to moisten her somewhat dry throat.

As she relaxed, curiosity rekindled in her beautiful peach blossom eyes, and she couldn't help but ask, "By the way, Kitahara-kun, since your new book isn't finished yet, do you have any new ideas in mind? Or... what kind of new story do you want to write?"

"Of course there are..."

Kitahara Iwa gently swirled the glass in his hand.

"I'm currently working on a story. A story that's more desperate and colder than The Ring."

Kitahara Iwa raised his head, a faint smile playing on his lips: "This time, there's no vengeful spirit like Sadako, only pure...human evil."

"The evil of human nature?"

Hearing Kitahara Iwao's reply, Kamachi Sachiko subconsciously hugged the cushion in her arms tighter and shrank back slightly.

She felt a primal fear mixed with an irrepressible curiosity.

"Yes, the book will probably be called... Confessions."

Kitahara Iwa leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice.

"The story takes place at a middle school's spring graduation ceremony."

"A female teacher who had just lost her beloved daughter stood on the podium with a blank expression."

"She didn't cry hysterically, but instead looked down at the more than thirty students in the class with a deathly gaze."

"Her daughter was maliciously murdered by two students in her class."

Kitahara Iwa's voice, combined with the dim lighting in the private room, seemed to instantly transport Kamachi Sachiko into a cold, gloomy classroom.

"But because of the protection of the Juvenile Law, the two underage perpetrators will not be subject to any legal punishment."

"He was even sitting in the audience, joking around with his classmates while nonchalantly drinking the milk provided by the school, with an innocent yet cruel smile on his face."

As Kitahara Iwatsu recounted his story, Kamachi Sachiko held her breath, her hands unconsciously gripping the hem of her skirt tightly until her knuckles turned white.

At this moment, Kitahara Iwao's voice became even softer, yet carried a chilling sense of judgment: "So, in his last class before resigning, this teacher calmly said to the whole class: 'This class is my final confession as a teacher.'"

"To make those two murderers truly understand the weight of life, I've added something... special to the milk those two prisoners just drank."