The meeting room in the annex was thick with the suffocating smell of tobacco.
This was the sacred ground where the Saionji family decided its fate. Portraits of past family heads lined the four walls—men in old-fashioned formal attire or military uniforms—staring down with stern, judging eyes at the descendants gathered around the long rosewood table.
Seven or eight men sat on either side. Most were elderly, dressed in montsuki haori hakama or dark double-breasted suits. Their faces carried a peculiar mix of arrogance and anxiety.
The air felt so heavy it could almost drip.
"This is simply absurd!"
A roar shattered the silence. Saionji Kenjirou slammed his hand on the table, sending a few drops of tea splashing from the cup in front of him.
He shot to his feet, tie askew, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Elder Brother! No—Family Head!" Kenjirou jabbed a finger at the unsigned document before Shuichi, his voice sharp with agitation. "The bank has given us an ultimatum: sign the contract or it's void. And now you want to 'pause'? Do you realize what that means? It means we're spitting out a fat piece of meat right in front of us just to feed the dogs!"
At the head of the long table, Saionji Shuichi sat upright in the main seat.
He held a folding fan, lightly tapping it against his palm, his face expressionless. Yet the sleepless nights of the past few days had left dark circles under his eyes, giving him a somewhat gloomy appearance.
"Kenjirou, watch your tone," Shuichi said quietly, though his voice carried a distinct chill. "This is a family meeting, not a fish stall at Tsukiji Market."
"Tone? Is this really the time to worry about tone?"
Kenjirou refused to back down. He glanced around at the senior clan members, desperately seeking allies.
"Uncles, you be the judge! The Osaka factory is already running at full capacity, and American orders are pouring in like snowflakes. As long as we expand production, next year's dividends could easily double! But now the Family Head wants to… wait and see? And even recall funds? Isn't he pushing the entire family toward the edge of a cliff?"
A white-bearded senior clan member coughed twice, his cloudy eyes turning toward Shuichi. "Shuichi, Kenjirou's words may be crude, but his reasoning isn't entirely wrong. Right now, the market is perfect for industrial growth. If we don't expand, our market share will soon be swallowed by Mitsubishi and Mitsui. Aren't you… being overly cautious?"
Shuichi fell silent.
A deep weariness settled over him. This was the tragedy of the old kazoku—they rested on their ancestors' laurels, yet their vision never stretched beyond the small plot of land right in front of them. They couldn't see the storm brewing across the Pacific; they only heard the jingling of coins in their pockets.
If he forced a veto, these men would surely raise a storm. They might even jointly demand a full family assembly to impeach him. While he wouldn't lose his position as Family Head, the blow to his authority would be severe.
Just as the deadlock threatened to drag on—
"Um… the tea has gone cold. Should I ask the servants to bring fresh cups for the uncles?"
A clear, soft voice—completely out of place in the smoke-filled room—rang out.
Every head turned instinctively toward the corner.
There, on a velvet-cushioned chair, sat twelve-year-old Saionji Satsuki. She wore a dark blue sailor uniform, white knee-high socks peeking from beneath her pleated skirt, and clutched a teddy bear that looked distinctly out of place in such a serious setting.
As the only daughter of the Saionji family, and after her mother's death, Shuichi had deliberately arranged for her to observe these meetings—ostensibly for "cultivation," but in truth to solidify her position as the sole heir.
For the past half hour, she had sat as still as a delicate doll, so quiet that everyone had nearly forgotten she was there.
Kenjirou frowned and waved his hand impatiently. "Satsuki, the adults are discussing serious matters. Don't cause trouble. Let the servants handle the tea."
"But…" Satsuki hugged her teddy bear tighter, blinking her large eyes innocently at Kenjirou. "I noticed Uncle seems so hardworking. Uncle wants to build that big factory so badly to make the Saionji family stronger, right?"
Kenjirou was momentarily stunned, then puffed out his chest. "Of course! I'm doing it for the family!"
Satsuki tilted her head, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to her. A faint dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth.
"In that case, why doesn't Father give all this hard work entirely to Uncle?"
The room fell silent for a heartbeat.
Shuichi's fingers paused mid-tap on the folding fan. His gaze sharpened as it landed on his daughter.
Satsuki seemed utterly unaware of her father's stare. She hopped down from the chair, walked to the edge of the long table, and continued in a cheerful, innocent tone:
"I heard my teacher at school say that the capable should shoulder more work. Uncle is so capable and so confident. If Father keeps restricting Uncle, he might feel held back, right?"
She turned to look at Shuichi in the main seat, her voice sweetly cloying. "Father, didn't you say recently that you haven't been feeling well and don't want to overexert yourself? Then why not let the new factory… um, operate independently? Hand it over completely to Uncle's full responsibility."
"As long as Father puts in a word with the bank to help Uncle secure the guarantee, the rest—the profits and the honors—can all go to Uncle. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
The moment those words left her lips, an eerie silence blanketed the meeting room.
Every mind raced to calculate the hidden implications behind this seemingly innocent child's suggestion.
For the senior clan members, it sounded like a perfect compromise: they could still chase profits without deepening the family rift.
For Kenjirou, it was like a golden pie falling straight from the sky.
Independent operation? Full responsibility?
That meant he would gain his own independent power base within the family! If the new factory succeeded and he controlled its finances, he might even push Shuichi aside and become the de facto ruler of the Saionji family.
Greed instantly devoured reason.
Kenjirou's breathing quickened, his eyes gleaming with fanatical excitement. He looked at Shuichi and asked tentatively, "Elder Brother… Satsuki's suggestion has reminded me. If you truly don't want to manage it, I could… reluctantly take it on…"
Shuichi studied his eagerly expectant brother, then glanced at his daughter, who was now innocently stroking the teddy bear's ear.
Combined with the late-night conversation in the study, a bold realization struck him. Shuichi drew in a sharp breath.
This move was ruthless.
This was "cutting off the tail to survive."
If his daughter's prediction proved true—if the yen was about to surge and export industries were doomed—then this new factory was a Titanic destined to sink.
Now, Satsuki had not only handed Kenjirou the ticket aboard, but had made him believe he'd won the lottery.
Once the factory went bankrupt, the crushing debt would fall squarely on the subsidiary company under Kenjirou's control. Although the main family, as guarantor, would share legal liability, in terms of both law and family ethics, Kenjirou would forever be branded "the sinner who squandered the family fortune"—a stain he could never wash away.
Killing with a borrowed knife, without spilling a drop of blood.
At that moment, Satsuki slightly lifted her head. Father and daughter's gazes met for a fleeting second before naturally drifting apart.
"This…" Shuichi, now fully understanding, deliberately adopted a hesitant expression, furrowing his brow. "Kenjirou, this is no child's game. A five-billion-yen venture—can you truly handle it alone?"
"I can! Of course I can!" Kenjirou slapped his chest, terrified Shuichi might change his mind. "I've worked in the family business for twenty years. What major storms haven't I weathered? Elder Brother, you just rest and recuperate. Leave this burden to me!"
The senior clan members quickly chimed in: "Yes, Shuichi, give the young man a chance."
Shuichi let out a deep, reluctant sigh, as if making a tremendous concession.
"Very well."
He picked up the pen and signed the document—but not in the "primary borrower" column. Instead, he signed as "guarantor" and added a clear note beside it regarding "independent operation rights and division of debt responsibility."
"Since everyone agrees, it's settled." Shuichi pushed the document toward Kenjirou, his expression complex. "Kenjirou, from now on… this family will rely on you."
Kenjirou snatched up the document as if it were a priceless treasure, his smile stretching ear to ear. He reached over and roughly ruffled Satsuki's hair. "Haha! Satsuki is so sensible! When Uncle makes money, I'll buy you the prettiest dress in all of Tokyo!"
Satsuki's hair was left tousled, yet she showed no trace of displeasure.
She looked up, her smile bright and pure as April sunshine.
"Thank you, Uncle. You must do your very best."
*Do your best to die, dear Uncle.*