Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Five days later.

A public junior high school in Tokyo.

The lunch break bell had just rung, and the classroom, which should have been filled with noise and the aroma of food, was now filled with an eerie tension.

The student on duty looked at the recycling bin with a face as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly.

Those large blue plastic baskets were filled with neatly arranged, unopened cartons of milk.

Red, blue, and white boxes were piled up like mountains, and almost none of them had straws inserted.

"Hey, Tanaka, aren't you going to drink?"

A mischievous boy suddenly grabbed a carton of milk and threw it at his classmate at the next table like a grenade.

"Whoa! Don't touch me! Do you want to die?!"

The boy named Tanaka jumped up in terror as if splashed with sulfuric acid, overturning his chair in the process, while repeatedly shouting, "This stuff has that in it! Haven't you seen 'Confessions'? Moriguchi-sensei added AIDS-infected blood!"

"Idiot! That's fiction! Don't you understand fiction?!"

"Who knows if it's true! I'm not drinking it! I'll die if I do!"

Panic is now spreading like a virus in classrooms.

Just because Kitahara Iwao wrote a line in his novel, "I added something to the milk," all the high school students in Tokyo seemed to have suddenly developed lactose intolerance.

Even in the corridors, anyone holding a milk carton would be pointed at and whispered about by those around them, as if they were carrying nuclear waste.

This absurd panic quickly spread from the campus to the capital market.

At 1:30 p.m. that day.

Tokyo Stock Exchange.

This is the heart of the bubble economy, a meat grinder of desire.

The air was always filled with the smell of sweat, tobacco, and burnt money.

Originally, this should have been another afternoon of revelry.

The red-vested traders roared "Buy! Buy!" like bulls in heat, the numbers on the electronic price charts flashing like non-stop fireworks.

However, just ten minutes after the market opened in the afternoon, a strange disturbance swept through the entire trading hall like a plague.

"Hey! What's going on?! Meiji's stock price isn't moving?"

"No...it's not that they're not moving! They're diving! Damn it, Moriguchi too! Yukiin too!"

Everyone looked up in horror, staring at the huge electronic display screen.

The dairy sector, which has always been regarded as a defensive blue-chip stock and even able to weather the oil crisis, including companies like Meiji Dairy, Morinaga Dairy, and Snow Brand Dairy, suddenly experienced a precipitous drop in price without any warning!

"What happened?! Is it a food poisoning scandal? Or a factory explosion?"

"Could it be an outbreak of plague in the milk-producing area? Investigate immediately! Investigate right now!"

The men in red vests were yelling themselves hoarse into the phone.

Hundreds of millions of yen evaporated in an instant, making their hearts stop beating.

However, a few seconds later.

The news coming from the other end of the phone made these financial elites, who handled hundreds of billions of yen and considered themselves to control the world, look like they had swallowed a fly.

"Huh? What did you say?"

A seasoned trader stared incredulously at the receiver in his hand, roaring in disbelief, "Because of... a novel?!"

"Because housewives think there's HIV in milk? Just because that writer named Kitahara Iwao wrote a load of nonsense?"

"Are you kidding me! That's fiction! It's made up! Have you guys lost your minds?!"

But this could not stop the spread of panic.

On this crazy afternoon, a paperback book priced at only a few hundred yen managed to suppress the ever-rising market value of the dairy industry.

Kitahara Iwa didn't even lift a finger; he simply used words to render the rules of capital worthless.

The next day.

Otemachi, Tokyo, the headquarters of a dairy giant.

The air pressure in the emergency public relations conference room on the 38th floor was so low it was suffocating.

There was no usual elitist arrogance here, only utter collapse.

Even the best soundproof mahogany door couldn't block out the phone ringing from the customer service department downstairs.

Every second, angry parents are asking, "Is your milk safe?!"

"A writer named Kitahara Iwao said that your line of work is easily tainted by unknown liquids!"

"My son had a stomachache after drinking milk today. Could he have caught something? I'm suing you! I want to cancel my subscription! Full refund!"

boom!

The public relations manager, his face covered in grease and sweat, slammed "Confession" onto the conference table.

His hand was trembling violently, and he pointed at the book as if he were pointing at a murderer, saying, "Ridiculous! This is the biggest joke of the Heisei era!!"

"We have the world's most advanced aseptic filling line! We have thousands of employees! Our quality control is so strict that not even a fly can get in!"

The minister loosened his tie, pacing angrily back and forth in the conference room, roaring, "And now... we've actually been driven to the daily limit down by some novelist bastard, by some damned story?!"

"Minister, I can't hold on any longer..."

At that moment, a subordinate rushed in, his voice trembling with tears, to report to the supervisor: "Fuji TV and Asahi Shimbun just called, asking if there are any vengeful employees on our production line..."

"If we don't clarify this soon, the stock price will look even worse tomorrow! The shareholders will kill us!"

The conference room was deathly silent.

All the executives looked at the minister.

They never imagined that the biggest business crisis of their lives would not be faced by competing companies or financial storms, but by a writer sitting at home writing.

"Issue a statement? It's useless..."

The minister slumped in his chair, his face ashen.

He understands the public's psychology very well. In the current situation, the more companies explain, the more the public feels that they are covering up the truth.

The one who tied the knot must untie it.

The key to quelling this market value evaporation disaster lies not in the hands of the public relations department, but in the hands of the instigator.

The minister gritted his teeth, as if making some humiliating decision, and squeezed out a sentence through clenched teeth: "...Get me into Shincho-sha. I need Kitahara Iwao."

Half an hour later.

Kitahara Iwa's apartment.

Kitahara Iwa leaned back on the sofa, watching TV.

The TV was showing a variety show that was causing a huge uproar over the milk panic.

Just then, the phone rang, breaking the afternoon's tranquility.

"Feed".

"It's me, Kitahara-sensei, Sato."

The receiver carried the slightly hurried yet excited voice of Editor-in-Chief Sato, and the background noise of the editorial department could even be heard.

"Listen, the chief executive officer of a dairy giant just called me."

"They want to talk to you directly."

"I'll transfer the call, but before that, I need to tell you something."

"Teacher Kitahara, Shinchosha is your strongest support. No matter what pressure they exert, even if they threaten to sue or use their corporate power to intimidate you, you don't need to be afraid."

Editor-in-Chief Sato took a deep breath, his tone becoming exceptionally serious, revealing the toughness and protectiveness of an old-school publisher: "As long as you don't back down, our legal department will play along with them to the very end."

"You are a writer, your pen is your privilege, there is no need to bow down to capitalists."

Hearing these words, which sounded like a pre-battle pep talk, Kitahara Iwa replied with a smile, "Sato-san, you're too nervous."

"I'm just a writer, how could they possibly target me?"

"Take it."

"Teacher Kitahara, you're being too modest. But ultimately, it's up to you to make the right choice. Don't compromise yourself for someone like that."

After a brief busy signal, the call was transferred.

This time, instead of Sato's powerful voice, the receiver picked up the panting of a middle-aged man.

The executive director, who usually spoke arrogantly in financial magazines and controlled hundreds of millions in market value, now spoke in a humble tone, like a salesman trying to sell unsold goods: "Hmm... is this... is this Mr. Kitahara?!"

"I am the General Manager of the Dairy Department... I am so sorry to bother you so abruptly!"

This usually arrogant executive director, who controlled hundreds of millions in market value and appeared high and mighty in financial magazines, now spoke in a humble tone, like a salesman trying to sell unsold goods: "Some things can't be explained over the phone... I'm on my way to your apartment now! I'll be downstairs soon!"

"I know this is rude, but please give me ten minutes! Just ten minutes! I want to talk to you about something in person and ask for your help!"

Kitahara Iwa raised an eyebrow and glanced out the window.

"Should we discuss this face-to-face?"

"Yes! This is extremely urgent, it concerns the livelihoods of thousands of employees... Please help!"

Kitahara Iwa was silent for two seconds, then chuckled softly.

"Alright. Since we're already downstairs, let's come up."

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.

When Kitahara Iwa opened the door, standing there was a middle-aged man who, although wearing an expensive bespoke suit, was covered in sweat and had a slightly crooked tie.

Upon meeting, the Minister of State for Special Affairs bowed a standard 90-degree angle, a gesture so humble that it was as if he were facing not a young writer, but a chaebol leader who held the power of life and death over him.

"Teacher Kitahara! I'm Matsumoto from the dairy industry! Thank you so much for agreeing to see me!"

After a brief self-introduction, the two sat down in the living room.

At this moment, Minister Matsumoto dared not sit completely on the sofa. He leaned forward, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, and took out a stock price chart that was already crumpled from his briefcase.

"Teacher Kitahara, I'll be frank..."

Matsumoto's voice trembled, clearly pushed to the brink by the plummeting stock price and angry shareholders: "Your book has had a huge impact... In the past few days, not only have parents cancelled their subscriptions, but even the school's catering contract has begun to waver."

"Our dairy company's stock price has hit the daily limit down for two consecutive days. If this continues, the company will be finished!"

At this point, he looked up, his eyes filled with pleading: "We would like to request that you... perhaps issue a joint statement with us?"

"We don't need your apology, nor do we need you to change anything! All you need to do is come forward and say that the story is fictional, or sign this statement..."

"In return, we're willing to pay the highest public relations consulting fees! Name your price! And..."

At this point, the minister swallowed hard, as if making a firm decision, and said, "We are willing to print the title of 'Confessions' on all milk cartons produced next quarter! And next to it, we'll add a note saying, 'Thank you, Professor Kitahara, for your warning about food safety!'"

Is the novel about poisoning doomed?

And it was even printed on the packaging of the damaged products?

If it weren't for Matsumoto's anxious expression, Kitahara Iwa would have laughed.

This development is simply too unexpected!

However, the influence of the book "Confessions" was truly beyond Kitahara Iwao's expectations.

Now that the victims have come to me, I can no longer sit idly by.

"Well. After all, I didn't expect parents in the Heisei era to be so... naive."

Kitahara Iwao stood up and extended his hand directly to Department Head Matsumoto: "For the sake of the children's bone health, I'll help with this."

That night.

Yomiuri Shimbun Evening Edition.

This may be the most expensive and absurd public relations campaign in the history of Japanese gaming.

Instead of a cold, impersonal corporate announcement, what occupied half the page was a visually striking joint poster.

On the left is the executive director of a dairy tycoon, dressed in a suit and tie.

On the right is Kitahara Iwa, wearing a black shirt and smiling.

Between the two figures was a bold, emergency joint statement:

[Joint Notice to Consumers from Kitahara Iwa and Meiji Dairies]

Kitahara Iwao (author): "As the author of 'Confessions,' I would like to clarify here: the milk poisoning plot is purely fictional and serves the 'evil' of the story. The milk in reality is innocent, and I urge parents not to deprive their children of their right to grow taller because of my story."

The Executive Director stated, "Thank you for Professor Kitahara's clarification! Our company's production line uses a fully enclosed aseptic filling system; not even a fly could get in! Please trust science and Professor Kitahara! Milk is the white blood that strengthens the nation's physique; please drink it with confidence!"