mijobooks Chapter 327 Star-Making Factory
Chapter 327 Star-Making Factory
(Two chapters today too~)
In October, Tokyo's streets were filled with an indescribable sense of weariness.
Satsuki sat in the back seat, her gaze sweeping across Ginza Chuo-dori through the tinted glass of the car window. Two old shops that she remembered should still be open had their windows covered with white canvas, and handwritten banners on the glass doors read "Thank you for your continued patronage - Closing Clearance Sale." The specialty store next door, which mainly sold imported watches, was still lit up, but nearly half of the display trays in its window, which originally held forty items, were empty.
Further along—the neon signs along the entire block were at least 20% dimmer than when she passed by last year. The signs weren't broken; the shop owners were simply cutting back on electricity bills.
Thanks to a certain philanthropist's behind-the-scenes push for an economic "hard landing," a large number of small and medium-sized enterprises went bankrupt, causing the whole of Japan to enter a period of recession ahead of schedule.
Satsuki turned her gaze back to the car.
The young lady is kind-hearted and can't stand seeing these things.
She glanced at a fax document lying on her lap, the first page bearing the heading of SA Precision Optics GmbH's Frankfurt office.
The information Weber listed in his fax last night has been handed over to Endo to work on. It's a scientist's perspective: precise, but only covering the field of optics.
If such a world-class geopolitical event as the reunification of Germany could only yield such a small result, then Satsuki would not belong to Saionji.
The one she's dealing with is on a much larger chessboard.
Last night, Satsuki finished most of it and has now turned to the page that hasn't been finished yet.
"Buna-Werke. Buna Chemicals."
The largest synthetic rubber and specialty chemicals production base in East Germany is located in Schkopf, Saxony-Anhalt. With 4,600 employees and significant losses, the trusteeship has placed it on the "priority sale" list. West Germany's BASF and Bayer are not interested—because their own production capacity is already excessive.
But Satsuki wasn't interested in synthetic rubber.
In Buner's fine chemicals division, there is a high-purity reagent production line built with investment from the East German military. The purity standard is electronic grade, which is the core solvent for photoresist.
She wrote a line in the blank space: "Package into SA Precision Optics' Jena procurement proposal. On the condition of 'job creation'. Budget cap of 20 million marks."
Turn to page four. Endo included a recent map of Berlin, highlighting three plots of land that were quietly purchased last June under the name of SA Offshore Trust: a 60,000-square-meter "dead zone" in the heart of Potsdamer Platz, the northern section of Friedrichstrasse, and a group of old warehouses in the Mitte district (see Chapter 172 for details).
The remarks section reads: "With the formal reunification of Germany, these plots of land have been completely transformed from Cold War border areas into the physical city center of Berlin. A reassessment of the strategic value of these plots is recommended."
Potsdamer Platz.
Right now, it's probably still a weed-infested ruin. The wall fell only a year ago, and even the streetlights haven't been repaired yet. But ten years from now, Sony and Daimler-Benz will pour billions of marks into that land and build Berlin's most bustling commercial center.
She drew a cross on the map. Next to it, she wrote: "Stand by and hold your ground. Someone will come to negotiate with us soon."
And one more thing.
At the bottom of the last page, Endo added a small note: "Uniqlo Europe has submitted an expansion plan. Tadashi Yanai suggested opening a pilot store in Leipzig and Dresden. The reason—16 million East German consumers have just gained the purchasing power of the East German mark, but the local retail infrastructure is practically non-existent."
Satsuki raised an eyebrow slightly.
Tadashi Yanai has a really keen sense of smell.
She wrote two words on the first page of the proposal: "Feasible".
I closed the folder and put it into the briefcase next to my seat.
At that moment, Endo turned to the side.
"Young Miss, we've arrived."
……
The car came to a stop in front of the SA Entertainment headquarters building.
As Satsuki opened the car door, the first thing she noticed was the huge LED screen that had been newly added to the building's exterior wall. The screen was playing music video clips of its artists on a loop—when the scene cut to a close-up of a male singer playing guitar in the rain, the color saturation was so high it was almost blinding.
Did this singer actually exist in history?
Her gaze lingered on the screen for a second before returning to it.
Itakura was already waiting at the door.
He was wearing a dark striped suit, the shoulders and cuffs tailored too tightly—as if it had been custom-made, only the direction of the fit was slightly off. But he still looked presentable, and you couldn't tell at all that he had previously been just a small business owner of an electronics store.
He saw Satsuki's car door open, and he sprang to his feet, almost running to meet her. Two secretaries followed behind, each carrying a stack of folders, their steps hurried.
"Young Miss! Welcome!"
Itakura bent over slightly, the curvature being two centimeters deeper than usual.
"Hmm." Satsuki nodded slightly, her gaze sweeping over the thickness of the folders in the hands of the two secretaries behind him. "Let's go, we can talk as we walk."
……
Itakura walked half a step ahead of Satsuki, holding a dark blue-covered report book in his hand, flipping through it as he walked.
"As of the beginning of this month, SA Entertainment has a total of 63 signed artists."
His speaking speed was clearly deliberately controlled, half a beat slower than usual.
"Of those, eleven groups have already debuted and achieved quarterly profitability. The three groups with the highest net profit contribution are—" He quickly flipped to the page marked with a yellow label, "First place is Ms. Sachiko's karaoke guide tape series, with copyright revenue exceeding 420 million yen in a single quarter; second place is the 'Against the Light' band (based on "B'z"), with album sales and tour tickets totaling 180 million yen; third place is Yumi Nishimura's (based on "Miki Imai") TV singing contract, totaling 90 million yen."
Satsuki listened, her steps steady, her gaze fixed on the corridor ahead. She nodded slightly from time to time.
Itakura glanced at Satsuki's profile and continued.
"There's another figure worth reporting." He turned to another page in the booklet, his fingertip pointing to a set of data highlighted in red. "Karaoke track royalties officially surpassed record sales themselves starting last quarter. The ratio is 53 to 47."
Satsuki paused for a moment.
"What is the specific settlement period?"
"Forty-five days," Itakura replied immediately. "We have a quarterly settlement agreement with the six major karaoke chains nationwide, but the actual payment cycle has been compressed to forty-five days. That's twice as fast as the industry average of ninety days."
What is the revenue sharing ratio between GG Singing and the TV station?
Itakura glanced at the documents. "Seven-three split. We have seventy percent."
"My bottom line is 75%."
Itakura's finger paused on the paper for a moment.
"...Yes. TBS and Fuji TV are currently at 73%, and I've been pushing for that. We've secured a new contract for TV Asahi at 74%." His voice lowered slightly. "By the end of the year, I'll have all the channels at 75% or higher."
Satsuki didn't reply. She continued walking.
Itakura breathed a sigh of relief—the young lady hadn't pressed for details, which meant that the answer had at least not crossed the line.
"There's another discovery in the last six months." Itakura quickened his pace, walked to a glass partition with a rehearsal schedule posted on it, and pointed. "After the economic downturn, several small and medium-sized agencies couldn't survive. We took the opportunity to poach several new talents who had been abandoned."
He counted on his fingers.
"SunMusic laid off a batch of trainees, and I picked out a male singer from among them. He has an excellent voice, and the width of his mid-to-low range resonance chamber is outstanding among his peers. Also, Stardust's branch in Osaka closed down, and a singer-songwriter girl was fired—she writes her own lyrics and music, and her demo tapes were already close to commercial quality. I poached her with a year's base salary guarantee plus the right to use a full recording studio."
As Itakura said this, a hint of undisguised pride crept into his voice.
"The contract terms and benefits are all in accordance with company standards, without any downgrading," he added. "What these people need most right now is a sense of security. If they are given enough security, they will work their hardest."
Satsuki glanced at him, looking at the smug fat man.
Over the years, he has also learned some things.
She raised her hand and patted Itakura's shoulder. Upon seeing this, Itakura immediately bent his knees slightly so that Satsuki's hand could reach his shoulder.
"You did a good job, Itakura."
Satsuki patted Itakura on the shoulder, just as she had hoped.
"I don't know what you like, so I'll just give you 500 million in cash as a reward."
After saying that, he continued walking forward.
Itakura paused for a moment, then his smile widened.
"Young lady, you have a keen eye for people. My favorite is Fukuzawa Yukichi..."
……
The soundproof doors on both sides of the corridor were tightly closed. But even with this level of soundproofing, certain frequencies couldn't be completely blocked out. Dull low frequencies—kick drums or bass—transmitted through the doors and walls, vibrating in a way that was almost tangible. My feet went numb.
Itakura pointed to the first door on the left.
"This is a five-member male band we signed this April, 'Twilight Signal' (based on 'LUNA SEA'). The lead singer is the one I recruited from SunMusic. The A&R department's assessment is that if given six months to gel, they could debut next spring."
Satsuki tilted her ear slightly. The voice coming from inside the door was indistinct, but the timbre was indeed rich and full in the midrange.
Itakura took a few more steps forward and pointed to a room on his right.
"This is the girl we kidnapped from Osaka. Her name is Matoba Miki (based on 'Ooku Maki'). She's been locked in there writing for three days straight. She last came out because she was hungry..."
Satsuki did not linger in front of the two doors.
She stopped in her tracks when she reached the second-to-last door at the end of the corridor.
The sounds emanating from this door were completely different from the previous ones. The dense sixteenth-note bass drum rhythms of the drum kit intertwined with the legato sections of the distorted electric guitar, creating a violent, fierce rhythm with an undisguised aggressiveness.
Satsuki listened intently for three seconds.
Itakura immediately came over.
"This is 'Blue Echo'." His tone became slightly more serious. "It's the all-female rock band we signed in last year's finals. Their new single reached number nineteen on the Oricon chart last month."
An all-female band.
Satsuki remembered it. Itakura mentioned this band in his quarterly report—using the comments "extremely high commercial potential" and "extremely rare stage presence among female bands".
That's interesting. It's another band that didn't exist in the original history.
She glanced at Itakura.
Then he reached out and pushed open the soundproof door.