Tanaka Takeshi sat in his office, still clinging to a sliver of hope.
Even if his own show had flopped, if the competition flopped harder, he might still survive.
"A million gods, please... let Fujiwara Seiji's show bomb!" Tanaka prayed under his breath, more sincere than he'd ever been in his life.
Just then.
His assistant came running in, voice trembling: "T-Tanaka-san! Genesis's ratings are in!"
"How much?" Tanaka's eyes snapped open.
"28.7%..." The assistant couldn't meet his gaze.
"28.7%?"
Tanaka's heart sank, but he still grasped at straws: "Is there a mistake? Did they get the decimal wrong?"
When the assistant confirmed it again and shoved the breaking news report in front of him, Tanaka's face went from white to green.
He staggered backward, slamming into the wall behind him: "H-How is this possible? We only got 8.3%? They... they more than tripled us?!"
His "ace producer" halo shattered in that instant.
"No... impossible..." he repeated incoherently, hands trembling as he covered his face, voice cracking: "I've been doing variety for twenty years... I hired the biggest stars in all of Japan... how... how could I lose this badly..."
The assistant stood silently beside him.
In the boardroom, the chairman set down his cigar and slowly looked up at the ashen-faced secretary who'd come to report.
"Say that again," his voice was terrifyingly calm. "What was Genesis's variety show rating?"
"28.7%... Chairman." The secretary's voice was barely audible.
The chairman's hand visibly trembled. A long cylinder of ash fell from his cigar onto his expensive suit pants, but he didn't even notice.
"28.7%... and we only got 8.3%?"
He seemed to age ten years in an instant, as if all the life had been drained from him. "Is this Fujiwara Seiji really that terrifying...?"
Everyone else in the room wore the same stunned expression, equally shocked by the ratings.
The chairman surveyed the room, mind racing.
They'd lost variety, but they still had dramas!
They still had that legendary director!
With that thought, the chairman took a deep breath and steadied his voice with all his might: "Send word—lock down all news about our internal chaos! Publicly, say this was just a trial run! Pour every promotional resource we have into the drama!"
"The drama absolutely cannot fail! If... if the drama fails too..."
He didn't finish, but everyone present understood.
Then they'd all be finished!
The celebration at Genesis lasted a full half hour.
When they learned their opponent had only managed 8.3%, everyone was first stunned, then erupted in even wilder cheers.
Seiji merely smiled faintly, said "As expected" to the department head beside him, and dismissed the man's worshipful gaze.
He didn't join the staff celebration, simply returning calmly to his office with Megumi following close behind to brew him a fresh cup of tea.
At the same time, the headquarters of the three major streaming platforms were equally ecstatic.
Tsutsumi, Mori, and Ootori held an emergency three-way video conference—all three in pajamas, each holding a glass of champagne.
"Gentlemen! Look at these numbers! Our platform gained more new users in one hour tonight than in the entire past month!" Tsutsumi's face was flushed with excitement.
"Advertisers are blowing up our business department's phone lines! They're waving cash around, begging for mid-roll spots during Human Observation!" Mori could barely contain himself.
"We... we won the bet!" Ootori said emotionally. "Fujiwara-sensei—no, Fujiwara-sama! He is the god of this era!"
The three drained their champagne through their screens, eyes gleaming with visions of the future. They immediately decided to pour every promotional resource their companies had into Genesis's upcoming drama project, determined to achieve total victory over the TV networks!
That night.
The TV Alliance called an emergency meeting.
"A crushing defeat! An unprecedented crushing defeat!" One executive slammed the ratings report on the table. "That waste Tanaka Takeshi has disgraced us all!"
"What's the point of saying that now?" another executive said dejectedly. "Young people just don't watch what we make anymore. We lost—we lost to the times."
Despair hung heavy in the conference room.
Just then, the TV network chairman—the old man who'd been relatively calm until now—slammed his palm on the table with a thunderous bang, silencing everyone.
"It's not over yet!" he roared. "Variety was just the appetizer! Our real ace is drama! Director Kitahara Osamu!"
"It's the decades of production experience and industry expertise we've accumulated!"
"As long as we win the drama battle, we can win back every ounce of face we lost today!"
His words stirred something in everyone present.
Indeed, compared to variety, drama was king!
They still had the legendary director Kitahara Osamu!
"Starting now, all vacations are cancelled!" The chairman stood, voice grave: "Pour every promotional budget we have into Director Kitahara's new series! This battle—we can only win. We cannot lose!"
"Yes, sir!!"
The executives answered with fierce determination.
The next day, the TV Alliance issued a defiant statement, stubbornly claiming that "one variety show loss proves nothing" and that "drama is the true gold standard of production capability!"
This bravado immediately sparked a new wave of public discourse.
Some traditional media outlets and old-school critics agreed: "The TV Alliance has a point. Variety and drama really are different things. Director Kitahara Osamu's artistic achievements are leagues above the rest."
But more young viewers unleashed merciless mockery online.
"LOL, so when you lose you call the other side low-brow entertainment? Can't handle losing?"
"'Temple of art' my ass—your 'original works' are third-rate sleep aids."
"Can't wait for Genesis to slap them again!"
Inside Genesis, the statement didn't even cause a ripple.
The Film Division head simply projected the news during the morning meeting, gave his staff a contemptuous smile, and said: "The enemy has started talking nonsense. We don't need to pay attention to the howling of beaten dogs. Focus on our own work."
Everyone laughed knowingly, morale higher than ever.
In their hearts, this war was already over.
All that remained was watching their side's victory lap.
Director Kitahara Osamu's secluded villa in Karuizawa.
"Director Kitahara," the chairman said, posture lowered to the point of groveling, "the TV industry is being turned upside down by some young upstart with no respect for tradition. Only you—only a titan like you—can emerge and set things right, defending the dignity and glory of our drama industry!"
Kitahara Osamu, a man approaching seventy with long artist's hair, was leisurely tending to his bonsai. He didn't even turn around, merely saying coolly: "I haven't touched a camera in five years."
The production head hurried forward, tone earnest: "Master! Unlimited budget, your pick of any actor! If you're willing to come out of retirement, the entire TV Alliance's resources will be at your disposal! We beg you—for the sake of the 'art' we've devoted our lives to—raise your banner once more!"
The word "art" clearly struck a chord.
Kitahara slowly set down his pruning shears and turned around. In his clouded eyes flickered a gleam of flattery-induced pleasure and contempt for the younger generation.
"Some newcomer who got lucky with one fast-food drama thinks he can compete with me in television?" He finally spoke, dripping with arrogant disdain. "Young people these days have no idea what art even is."
"Very well. Since you're so sincere, I'll stretch my muscles a bit... and show that brat what the art of drama truly means!"
"Thank you, Director Kitahara!" The TV executives were overjoyed, bowing deeply.
To help the director "better immerse himself in creation," the network "thoughtfully" arranged for three young, beautiful, newly-debuted third-rate actresses to move into the director's luxury suite under the pretense of "script study."
When Kitahara saw those three girls standing before him in revealing outfits, all smiles, cooing in unison "Director Kitahara, please guide us"—a greedy light instantly blazed in the old man's clouded eyes.
"Good, good, good! All of you stay! Tonight, we'll have a thorough... script discussion!"
The three actresses felt revulsion churning inside, but their faces remained sweet and innocent, as if receiving the master's "guidance" was the greatest honor of their lives.
The Controversial Interview
Soon, the TV network arranged a high-profile exclusive interview for Kitahara Osamu.
During the interview, a young reporter posed a pointed question: "Director Kitahara, some viewers say your style tends toward the delicate and slow-paced, which may not appeal to younger audiences in today's fast-paced world. Your last work five years ago had rather middling ratings. What's your response?"
Kitahara's face darkened immediately. He practically slammed the table as he shot back: "Today's audiences are too impatient! Their brains have been ruined by all that fast-food garbage—they don't know how to appreciate real art! Drama isn't cola that you gulp down in three swigs! It's fine wine meant to be savored! It's art!"
The reporter pressed on: "So you're saying that what audiences currently enjoy—fast-paced works like Legal High, for instance—are..."
"Garbage!" Kitahara cut him off without hesitation. "That kind of crowd-pleasing trash doesn't deserve to be called a 'work.' True art stands the test of time! Not momentary hype!"
When this interview aired, the internet exploded.
Young viewers were thoroughly enraged: "What do you mean we don't understand art? We just don't like boring crap!"
"This old fart is way too arrogant. What era does he think this is, still clutching his antiques?"
Inside Genesis, staff watched the interview and shook their heads...
The Film Division head let out a cold laugh: "It's over. He's completely alienated his audience. He's already lost half the battle before even filming."
The TV Alliance, meanwhile, immediately paid off a horde of so-called "senior critics" and "academic professors" to publish articles praising Kitahara Osamu, extolling his "artistic integrity" and "master's spirit."
The A-list actors in the cast, under their agencies' direction, publicly voiced their support for the director, claiming it was their "honor" to participate in "the creation of art."
On set, Kitahara Osamu's "artistic pursuit" was taken to the extreme.
He was utterly obsessed with his "aesthetic of stillness."
That day, the crew was filming a scene where the male lead learns his first love is about to marry another man.
Rather than having the actor convey anguish through dialogue or expression, Kitahara designed a three-minute continuous shot:
The protagonist sits alone in a traditional room, saying nothing, simply watching a maple leaf in the garden drift slowly down... finally landing in the pond, creating ripples.
"Cut! Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"
Kitahara watched the playback on the monitor, face flushed with excitement, lost in complete self-admiration.
He gushed to the assistant director beside him: "That falling leaf symbolizes his lost love; those ripples represent the turmoil he cannot calm within! How poetic!"
The assistant director nodded along, showering him with praise.
But the popular actor playing the lead was internally screaming: Art? My legs went numb sitting here! All to watch a leaf fall? The audience won't understand a damn thing! They'll just get bored and change the channel!
Yet given Kitahara's status and reputation in the industry, the actor had to maintain a facade of thoughtful "sophistication," saying against his will: "Director, your vision is so profound. I felt completely immersed in the character's sorrow."
"Not bad. You have some potential," Kitahara remarked dismissively.
After the variety show disaster, the TV executives were anxious. They dispatched a production head to visit the set.
The head asked worriedly: "Director Kitahara, is filming going smoothly? We... absolutely cannot lose again this time."
Kitahara sneered disdainfully. He pointed at the monitor showing the "leaf falling into pond" masterpiece and declared with supreme confidence: "What are you worried about? Go back and tell the chairman to relax! Look at this shot, this atmosphere! That Fujiwara Seiji brat—can he film anything with this kind of zen aesthetic?"
The production head looked at the "impressively incomprehensible" footage, heard Kitahara's confident proclamation, and felt his anxiety melt away, suddenly filled with confidence.
He nodded and bowed repeatedly: "Yes, yes, yes! You're absolutely right, Master! With you here, we're relieved!"
He immediately returned to report to the chairman, putting the entire TV network leadership at ease.
Meanwhile.
Genesis's Hanzawa Naoki production team was like an unsheathed blade, brimming with passion and edge.
The day after their variety show triumph, the Film Division head was in a strange state of fire and ice.
He was ecstatic over the variety win, yet felt enormous pressure about the upcoming drama battle—what the entire industry saw as the ultimate showdown.
All morning he'd been wondering what kind of script the boss would produce to go up against the legendary Director Kitahara Osamu.
Just then, Seiji's figure appeared in the doorway, expression calm as still water. Without a word, he simply placed a neatly bound script on the head's desk.
On the cover, four bold characters—Hanzawa Naoki.
"The script's ready. Take a look," Seiji said with a faint smile.
"Yes! Excuse me!"
The head took a deep breath and opened the first page with the reverence of a pilgrim.
Just ten minutes of plot in, his breathing grew rapid.
Internal bank faction wars, superiors passing blame, a massive five-hundred-million-yen loan scandal... The tense pacing and explosive dramatic conflict seized his complete attention.
He read faster and faster, fingers whitening from gripping the pages.
When he reached the line that would define the entire series—"An eye for an eye... tenfold payback"—he felt an electric current shoot from his tailbone straight to the crown of his head, every hair on his body standing on end!
"A masterpiece... an absolute masterpiece!"
He shot to his feet, voice distorted from shock: "Boss! This script... we need the biggest names! Koji Yakusho, Ken Watanabe... only national treasures can do this justice!"
In his mind, a script with this much power could only be carried by the industry's greatest legends.
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You can read up to chapter 180 on patreon.com/NiaXD.