Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 78 Admission Ticket

Chapter 80 Admission Ticket

The pen swept across the thick document, leaving a trail of smooth black ink.

This is a private tea room in Chiyoda Ward without any sign. The room doesn't have the kind of leather sofas and crystal chandeliers that nouveau riche like; there are only a few old wooden chairs and walls covered with books.

Sasaki, holding his teacup, watched as Kitahara Shin signed the last power of attorney and pushed it back.

"It's all a long-term holding plan for US Treasury bonds and a few utility stocks." This reclusive financial tycoon glanced at the document and said calmly, "Kitahara-san, do you know how many people came to me last week begging me to help them leverage up their short positions in the Nikkei index? Right now in Tokyo, everyone wants to take a bite out of that falling K-line. You have so much cash on hand, yet you chose the safest asset with the lowest interest rate."

"I don't understand short selling, and I don't want to make that kind of risky money." Kitahara Shin capped his pen and put it back in his breast pocket. "All I know is that no matter what Japan becomes, we'll always need electricity and water. As for the US dollar, it's better to just leave it there than to be anxious about it in the stock market."

This is the most basic logic of risk aversion.

Sasamu put down his teacup, and a rare hint of genuine approval appeared on his usually serious face.

"Many people know to be afraid when they lose money, but few can resist the temptation to make money when faced with an opportunity to do so."

He put the documents into his briefcase. "I'll handle this money myself. Also, regarding those commercial properties I mentioned before that became available due to bankruptcy liquidation, I've already had people negotiate with them. No need to rush, just wait a little longer; the prices can be halved again."

Kitahara Shin nodded. Dealing with smart people is so convenient. He doesn't need to worry about those complicated financial instruments; he just needs to find the right person and trust their professional judgment.

After leaving the tea room, Kitahara Shin went to his office.

Ota was flipping through a pile of newspapers and magazines with a worried expression.

"Kitahara-san, this week's cover of 'Star' magazine features SMAP's Takuya Kimura again. And this one, Ken-On's newly debuted artist, touted as 'a man gentler than Kanji.'"

Daejeon spread out the magazine and pointed to the handsome, youthful faces in it. "Although 'Tokyo Love Story' is still being re-broadcast a lot, if we don't take on new roles now, the hype will really die down."

For the past few months, Kitahara Shin has seemed to have vanished into thin air. Aside from occasionally filming a few pre-signed commercials, he has refused all variety show appearances and similar scripts.

The market is ruthless and forgetful. With the arrival of the spring season, major TV stations rushed to release more than a dozen pure love dramas imitating "Tokyo Love Story." Although the quality varied, the sheer quantity of these shows was enough to satisfy the demand.

The audience's attention is being rapidly divided.

Younger, better dancers, and brighter-smiling idols are vying for power. Especially the boys from Johnny & Associates, who are springing up like mushrooms after rain. Takuya Kimura's almost flawless face is becoming the epitome of Shibuya—

The new darling of the streets.

Kitahara Shin picked up the magazine and glanced at it.

It has to be admitted that Kimura before he grew his hair long was indeed incredibly handsome; he had a top-tier face that was a gift from God.

In comparison, Kitahara Shin's appearance is the kind that grows on you, with well-proportioned and deep-set features. However, in this era where looks matter, in terms of visual impact alone, he is indeed not as good as these top idols.

"Let it go if it's over."

Kitahara Shin casually closed the magazine and tossed it back onto the corner of the table. "Always dominating the spotlight isn't safe; it easily attracts hatred. Let them fight for that 'Nation's Boyfriend' title. This spot is too crowded; it's uncomfortable to sit here."

"But—" Ota wanted to say something more.

"Ota-san, do you know what the ratings are for those copycat dramas now?"

"—About 10% to 15%"

"The audience isn't stupid."

Kitahara Shin poured himself a glass of water, his tone calm, "They might watch the first episode because of a pretty face, but whether they watch the last episode depends on whether the character can truly touch their hearts."

He took a sip of water, gazing at the bustling streets outside the window, as if stating an objective fact: "I can't compete with Takuya Kimura's looks, nor can I compete with the youthful energy of those eighteen-year-olds. If I rush to take on those terrible dramas that imitate 'Tokyo Love Story,' I'm just overdrawing on the remaining value of 'Kanji,' turning myself into a disposable commodity drifting with the tide."

"I have my own rhythm."

He turned around and looked at Daejeon. "What I need to do is not to beat anyone this month, but to find a role that I can play for ten or twenty years, a role that I can still hold my own even when I have wrinkles on my face. So, don't rush."

No sooner had he finished speaking than his cell phone rang in his pocket.

Kitahara Shin answered the phone.

"Hey kid, it's me."

The phone rang with Juzo Itami's signature loud voice, accompanied by the sound of stir-frying in the background: "I'm not going fishing this week. The weather forecast says it'll rain."

"That's a real shame." Kitahara Shin smiled.

For the past few months, he'd run into Itami Juzo almost every week at that fishing spot. Their initial nodding acquaintances progressed to exchanging cigarettes, complaining about bad movies, and occasionally swapping bait. They didn't deliberately discuss collaborations or grand artistic ideals. They were just two men, both somewhat displeased with this superficial world, sitting by the water, killing time.

Don't give me that bureaucratic talk.

Juzo Itami cursed on the other end, "Come to my house for dinner tonight. My wife made some nice Wagyu beef. You said you could make those old-fashioned thick omelets last time? Come over and show off your skills. Don't just talk the talk."

Go home.

We also want him to cook.

"What time?" Kitahara Shin asked.

"Six-thirty. Don't be late. My sister-in-law is there too, and she's making a lot of noise. Come early and help me keep an eye on her."

"it is good."

After hanging up the phone, Kitahara Shin looked at Ota, who had a curious expression on his face.

"Tonight's schedule is canceled."

"Huh? But I have to have dinner with that guy tonight—"

"It's cancelled."

Kitahara Shin stood up, straightened his collar, and a glint of light flashed in his usually calm eyes.

Those idols are still fighting tooth and nail for a few minutes of screen time on television, while the real ticket to the show often comes from a seemingly casual phone call.

Setagaya Ward, in front of Seijo Academy.

This is a famous affluent area in Tokyo, home to many cultural celebrities and entertainment industry veterans. The streets are lined with tall zelkova trees, giving it a tranquil and sophisticated feel even on a cloudy day.

Kitahara Shin didn't drive that flashy sports car; he took a taxi instead.

He was dressed casually. A dark gray wool cardigan over a white T-shirt, and loose cotton trousers. No hair gel, no expensive watch.

What he was carrying wasn't some expensive foreign liquor, but a bottle of "Kubota Manju" that he had found at a liquor store near his hometown.

This wine isn't top-tier luxury, but it excels in its rich flavor and pairs well with everyday dishes.

These are the rules for private parties.

Too formal and it feels distant; too casual and it feels disrespectful. What you're looking for is that relaxed feeling, like "visiting a neighbor."

Ring the doorbell.

The person who opened the door was a middle-aged woman with a gentle demeanor.

Nobuko Miyamoto, wife of Juzo Itami, and his leading lady, is a true powerhouse actress.

"Is that Kitahara-kun?"

Nobuko Miyamoto smiled and glanced at the wine in his hand, her eyes filled with the warmth of an elder. "The old man is arguing with someone in the study. Just take him in; it's for him, he'll definitely be happy. Please come in."

Several pairs of shoes were placed in the entryway.

Besides men's leather shoes, there was a pair of women's flat shoes that looked quite ordinary, and a pair of canvas shoes that clearly belonged to a young girl.

From inside came Juzo Itami's booming voice: "I told you that shot was too long! The audience isn't stupid; we don't need to explain every single frame!"

Kitahara Shin changed into slippers and stepped onto the warm, smooth wooden floor.

The room was filled with the sweet aroma of sukiyaki.

He knew that the world behind that door was a completely different dimension from the entertainment industry outside, where everyone was fighting for ratings and sales.

Here, no one cares whether you're handsome enough or not, and no one cares whether you're a popular idol.

They only care if you are an "interesting person".

"Sorry to bother you."

Kitahara Shin bowed slightly, carrying the bottle of sake, and entered the room that might determine his future.