Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

Takahashi was stunned for a moment, then realised she was talking about the promise from a few days ago.

He sat back down, took out the thinner file folder, and handed it to Satsuki with both hands.

”Here it is.”

Satsuki took the file.

She lowered the television volume and opened the first page of the report.

Takahashi’s report this time was only seventeen pages long.

He had deleted most of the material from the nearly sixty-page document last time. Unconfirmable financing conditions, unsubstantiated extension times, and overly optimistic estimates of Seibu’s normal completion earnings had all been removed from the final results.

He re-established three states.

No cooperation.

Limited cooperation.

Currently confirmed cooperation.

Under each state, the assets Seibu could retain, the financing costs it needed to bear, and the operational entry points and long-term relationships Saionji would obtain were listed separately.

Takahashi deleted the judgment regarding ”ultimate victory” and only retained a conclusion at the end of the report that could be supported by existing evidence.

Seibu preserved its railways, hotels, land, and important facilities in Odaiba, while Saionji acquired entry points to enter these systems and continuously share passenger flow, procurement, and operational earnings. The nature of what both parties obtained differed, and evaluations would change with the observation period and comparison state.

Satsuki turned the pages quickly, often glancing over explanatory text, and only lingered a moment longer when seeing tables, hypothetical conditions, and conclusions.

Takahashi kept observing her expression.

He wanted to know on which page she would pause, which modification would gain approval, and where obvious problems still existed.

As it turned out, there was nothing.

When Satsuki read the financing costs under the no-cooperation state, her expression did not change; upon seeing the residual earnings after Saionji’s operating rights expired, she showed neither approval nor opposition.

Ten-odd minutes later, she closed the file.

”It is much thinner than last time.”

”Yes, I deleted the parts without evidence.”

”Did it hurt to delete them?”

”A little bit.”

Takahashi admitted candidly.

”Some of those paragraphs took me a very long time.”

Satsuki smiled slightly.

”Being able to delete things you spent a long time writing already makes you better than a lot of people.”

Takahashi did not take this sentence as the final evaluation.

”Are there still problems with the report?”

”Of course there are.”

Satsuki said casually.

”However, let us talk about something else first.”

She put the file aside and turned to look at the television.

Isomura was accepting interviews from reporters, and the staff of his campaign office had already put that huge red flower on him. At the bottom of the screen, supporting political parties, major constituencies, and projected final vote margins scrolled continuously.

”Senior Takahashi, did you see Seibu’s project just now?”

”I saw it.”

”Before last night, the financing and work resumption projects prepared by Saionji were already enough to hold today’s announcement.”

Satsuki gently cupped her face.

”Since Seibu’s joining will not determine whether Mr. Isomura can hold that press conference, why include it?”

Takahashi thought for a moment.

Expand the scale of work resumption.

Cover the constituencies along Seibu’s lines.

Reduce the political risk of Saionji supporting a candidate alone.

These were all very easy answers to think of.

But since Satsuki specifically asked, what she wanted to hear obviously was not just these.

Takahashi looked back at the television.

Isomura was thanking his supporters, while reporters kept pressing him about his relationship with the Saionji Group and whether he would prioritise promoting waterfront projects participated in by Saionji in the future.

In another small screen, a representative of the Seibu Group was also being interviewed. He emphasised that Seibu’s advance payment of project funds was a normal business decision, and the group was willing to cooperate with any policies that could restore Tokyo’s economy.

Takahashi stared at that interview for a while.

”After Seibu joins, it can indeed increase the project scale and also make Mr. Isomura less suspected of serving only Saionji when facing reporters.”

”Mhm.”

Satsuki expressed neither satisfaction nor urged him.

”However, these should only be surface-level effects.”

Takahashi’s gaze fell on the Seibu representative on the screen.

”Seibu could have waited until after the election to decide who to cooperate with.”

”If Mr. Isomura wins, they can acknowledge Saionji’s judgment; if Mr. Suzuki wins, Seibu can also continue to maintain relations with local organisations. Regardless of the outcome, they have room to re-choose their stance.”

Satsuki’s fingers supporting her face moved slightly.

Takahashi continued:

”But after putting Seibu on the list last night, that room is gone.”

”Seibu announced in its own name that it would advance project funds and resume station and hotel projects, and also publicly promised to continue implementing them after the election. If Mr. Isomura wins, Chairman Tsutsumi will get a position in the new metropolitan government and must also help these policies take root.”

”If Mr. Isomura loses, Seibu cannot stop immediately either. Once they stop, reporters and partner companies will think that everything they did last night was just for votes.”

Speaking up to this point, Takahashi looked back at Satsuki.

”What you gave up was just a line of names and a subsequent position.”

”In exchange, Seibu was turned from a bystander who could observe the outcome into someone who had to bear the results.”

The office was quiet for a few seconds.

Isomura in the television was still speaking, his voice turned down very low, so that only words like ”metropolitan citizens,” ”employment,” and ”responsibility” could be vaguely heard.

This time, Takahashi could see some changes in Satsuki’s expression.

It seemed... the corners of her mouth went up just a little bit?

Takahashi thought for a moment longer.

”There is one more thing.”

”After Seibu joins, Mr. Isomura’s promises no longer rely solely on Saionji to fulfil.”

”In the future, when the metropolitan bureaucrats or the metropolitan assembly question this set of policies, standing in front of them will be banks, construction companies, Seibu, and members of The Club. Saionji’s political responsibility has been dispersed, but the execution force it can mobilise has increased.”

”Therefore, what Seibu bought last night was the qualification to enter the new metropolitan government.”

”What Saionji obtained...”

Takahashi paused.

”Is a co-debtor.”

Satsuki looked at him.

A slight, obvious change finally appeared in those eyes.

It was very faint, but enough for Takahashi to confirm that he had not completely deviated from the direction this time.

A moment later, Satsuki leaned back into her chair, and the hands that had been neatly placed on her knees also relaxed. She reached out to take the teacup and took a small sip.

”This phrasing is very interesting.”

Her tone was a bit more relaxed than before.

”It is just that if Uncle Tsutsumi heard this, he might be a little unhappy.”

Takahashi also breathed a slight sigh of relief.

”Since Chairman Tsutsumi is willing to join, he should have already calculated the cost.”

”He calculated it.”

Satsuki curved her eyes.

”He just did not calculate it in such an ugly way.”

Takahashi could only chuckle awkwardly; Satsuki could poke fun at the current richest person in the world, but that did not mean he could join her in mocking Tsutsumi Yoshiaki.

He cast his gaze back to the report on the desk.

”Then, does this count as passing this time?”

”Mhm... better than I originally expected.”

Satsuki put down her teacup.

”Senior Takahashi has completed it very well and even gave me an unexpected answer.”

She looked at Takahashi, her tone becoming serious.

”Therefore, you can make a wish to me.”

”I will exhaust all the group’s existing power to help you fulfil a wish.”

The office was quiet for a few seconds.

Isomura in the television screen was giving his acceptance speech, with dozens of microphones squeezed in front of him. The host’s voice was turned down very low, sounding as if it came from far away.

It only took a few seconds for Takahashi to realise how heavy the promise Satsuki just gave was.

How great the energy of the Saionji Group was—even if he only saw the tip of the iceberg, he could have an intuitive sense of it—Aladdin’s magic lamp in myths was probably no more than this.

For an ordinary college student, studying abroad, starting a business, entering a large company, changing a family’s life for the decades to come, and allowing the Takahashi family to achieve a class leap might all be included in this promise.

He could even use this opportunity to stand in a position before graduation that many people could never reach in a lifetime.

But Takahashi did not consider it for long.

”I want to work at Saionji.”

Satsuki blinked.

Afterwards, she laughed.

”If it is just entering Saionji, going to the recruitment office will do.”

”Senior Takahashi will not graduate until next year. With your grades in the Faculty of Economics at Gakushuin and this report of yours, getting an informal job offer from a company under the group is not difficult enough to warrant using up this wish.”

”Will it not be too wasteful for Senior Takahashi to use such a heavy promise on an ordinary job application?”

Takahashi shook his head.

”Sorry, what I said just now was not accurate enough.”

He straightened his body and looked at Satsuki seriously.

”I want to work for you.”