Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 35 The Countdown to Arrogance

The "Peacock Hall" at the New Takanawa Prince Hotel is one of the most luxurious banquet halls in Tokyo.

Normally, this place hosts wedding banquets for political and business elites, and the air is always filled with the sweet scent of champagne and expensive perfumes.

But today, this magnificent hall, which is a thousand stacks in size, is shrouded in a suffocatingly low pressure.

Countless flashes of light illuminated the hall as if it were daytime.

In the very center of the stage stands the legendary "Golden Screen".

The screen, covered in pure gold leaf, refracted a dazzling light under the spotlight.

In the tradition of the Japanese entertainment industry, gold screens symbolize joy and celebration, and are usually only used when announcing a wedding.

Today, however, this screen looks like a huge fig leaf, or... a guillotine covered in gold leaf.

Backstage lounge.

"How's the hairstyle? Spray some more hairspray here to give it that 'tired but still strong' look."

Kanai Toshihiko sat in front of the makeup mirror, adjusting his tie while giving the stylist critical instructions.

He was wearing a dark blue custom-made suit today, with a polished, seemingly sincere but actually empty smile on his face.

The agent leaned over and handed over a final version of the press release: "Kanei-san, let's confirm the schedule. It starts at 2:00 PM sharp. Please go up first and briefly explain the 'misunderstanding' that has happened over the past six months."

Then Ms. Akina came on stage, which was when the live broadcast had the highest viewership.

After she finishes reading her apology letter and admits that her mental instability led to her disappearance, you should go over, hold her hand, and say to the camera, "No matter what happens, I will support her."

"Perfect."

Kanai flicked the script with satisfaction and smiled smugly. "Once this step is completed, all those rumors about gambling debts and embezzlement will be completely dispelled. The public will only see a good man who not only forgave his crazy girlfriend but also generously helped her clean up the mess."

He peeked through the crack in the door at the group of reporters outside who were setting up cameras.

That wasn't a reporter; that was the washing machine that helped him clear his name and get out of trouble.

"By the way, where's that woman? Is she still next door?" Kanai asked casually.

"Yes, her family is here too." The agent lowered his voice. "They seem quite honest, they've been memorizing their lines."

"That's good." Jin Jing sneered, a hint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes. "As long as we find her weakness, she's a toothless dog. After today... hmph."

……

The atmosphere in the private lounge next door was completely different.

"Wow, the desserts at the Prince Hotel are truly exceptional, so high-class!"

Akina's mother, Chieko, was sitting on the sofa, eating the exquisite refreshments brought by the hotel without any regard for her image, stuffing them into her bag as she ate. "Chieko, eat more too, don't be shy. After that silly girl apologizes, we'll get some money, and then Mom will take you to Ginza to buy a designer bag."

Chika, the younger sister, was flipping through a fashion magazine without looking up: "I know. But my brother-in-law was really generous this time. I wish he could give me this much every month."

These two blood relatives were like two vultures circling above the rotting flesh, plotting how to share the last scraps.

They didn't care at all what the girl about to go on stage was thinking, nor did they care whether this press conference would ruin her life.

The far corner of the room.

Akina Nakamori sat there alone.

She didn't wear the elegant pink kimono the agency had prepared—it was originally meant to match the festive atmosphere of the "Golden Screen" and to dress her up as a bride-to-be.

She was wearing a dark gray business suit.

A sharply tailored suit jacket, straight-leg trousers, and underneath, a plain white shirt.

This outfit seemed out of place amidst the glitz and glamour of the room, even appearing somewhat cold and aloof.

It's like a silent reef in a raging torrent.

She placed her hands on her knees, her right hand tightly gripping a cold, metallic object.

That was his own Zippo, or rather, Kitahara Shin's.

But for today, Kitahara Shin has returned it to himself.

The metallic feel in her palm reminded her of that late night filled with the scents of tobacco and mints, and the warmth of the man holding her hand as he said, "This is a knife."

"Akina."

After finishing her snack, Chieko wiped her mouth and put on a motherly air. "Be quick-witted when you go on stage later. Cry as pitifully as possible. Don't look like someone owes you money. Mr. Kanai said that if you cooperate well, he'll bring me to live in Tokyo too."

Akina did not turn back.

She looked at herself in the makeup mirror.

The girl in the mirror was pale, but her eyes were unusually calm. It wasn't the deathly stillness of despair, but the calm of the sea before a storm.

"Did you hear me? I'm talking to you!" Chieko walked over impatiently, trying to push her shoulder.

Akina suddenly looked up.

Her eyes.

Cold and sharp, like a knife just drawn from its sheath.

Chieko's hand froze in mid-air, startled by the look in his eyes, she took a step back: "Why...why are you looking at me like that?"

"Mother."

Akina parted her red lips slightly, her voice as light as the wind yet as heavy as lead, "Shut up."

"You!" Chieko was about to explode.

Just then, the door to the lounge opened.

Kanai Toshihiko walked in, followed by a group of staff members.

"Akina, it's time."

Jin Jing walked up to her and looked down at her.

He didn't notice the change in Akina's eyes; he only saw what she was clutching tightly in her hand and assumed it was a sign of nervousness.

He reached out, wanting to pat her head as he used to, to show a masterly demeanor.

"Don't be afraid, just read from the script, everything will be alright. I will forgive you."

Akina did not dodge.

She slowly stood up.

Wearing high heels, she was only half a head shorter than Jin Jing.

She looked directly into Jin Jing's eyes.

three seconds.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Just as Kitahara Shin had taught her, she didn't blink or flinch.

That was the look in his eyes when he looked at the clown.

That's the look you give a dead person.

Kanai felt inexplicably uneasy under that gaze, and for the first time, his sense of control as the abuser cracked.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

Akina suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint, with the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, carrying a kind of contempt that Jin Jing couldn't understand.

"I just think your tie today..."

"...The color is very suitable for a funeral."

Jin Jing was stunned.

Before he could even process what those words meant, Akina had already turned around and strode towards the passageway leading to the stage.

Her back was ramrod straight, and the sound of her high heels clicking on the ground was crisp and powerful.

Da, da, da.

That was the sound of war drums.

"...What do you mean?" Kanai looked at her back, his unease growing stronger.

"Kanei-san! Get on stage quickly! The live broadcast has started!" the manager urged from the front.

Jin Jing could only suppress his doubts, put on his perfect smile again, and walk towards the dazzling stage.

Meanwhile, in an apartment in the port area, five kilometers away from the hotel.

Kitahara Shin sat in front of the television, holding a can of ice-cold beer in his hand.

On the screen, a magnificent image of the Peacock Hall was displayed, and a line of large text appeared as a subtitle:

[Exclusive Live Broadcast: Akina Nakamori's Apology Press Conference]

Kitahara Shin stared at the huge golden screen on the screen, unwrapped a mint and threw it into his mouth, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

"Let's begin."