Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 20 The "Ghost Building" of Ginza

The November wind, carrying a dry chill, swept across the asphalt pavement of Chuo-dori in Ginza.

The plane trees on both sides had shed all their leaves, leaving only bare branches reaching towards the gray sky. Although it was the weekend, the streets weren't as bustling as they usually were. The windows of Matsuzakaya and Mitsukoshi department stores were still gleaming, displaying the latest autumn and winter coats, but there were noticeably fewer customers coming and going; everyone was clutching their wallets and looking hurried.

"203.50".

The electronic billboard by the roadside displays today's exchange rate.

In just two months, the yen surged like it was on steroids. For the Saionji family, who held dollars, it was an asset frenzy; but for traders who relied on exports, it was a harsh winter without snow.

A black Nissan Presidential Sedan slowly glided past 6-chome and turned onto a relatively narrow side road.

"Father, the wind here seems colder than on the street."

Satsuki sat in the back seat, draped in a camel-colored cashmere cloak, and wearing the small lambskin gloves left by her mother. She gazed out the window at the slightly worn signs, her eyes as calm as a stagnant pool.

Shuichi straightened his tie and glanced out the window: "7-chome is an old district, and many shops here were built before the war. But the locations are unbeatable."

The car stopped in front of a drab, gray building.

This is a five-story building, sandwiched between two modern, tiled skyscrapers, like a ragged beggar squeezed between two gentlemen. The cement on the exterior walls has peeled off, revealing the red bricks underneath, and a window on the second floor is broken, covered with newspaper that rattles in the wind.

A crooked bronze plaque hangs at the entrance—"Tamura Trading Co., Ltd."

"Is this the place?" Satsuki asked.

"Hmm." Shuichi took out a survey report. "The Tamura family is in the ceramics export business, mainly selling to department stores in the American Midwest. They couldn't hold on when the exchange rate broke 220, and now they're said to be unable to even pay for container shipping."

The car door opened.

Before we even got off the bus, a noisy argument broke out.

"President Tamura! Please don't put us in a difficult position! This is the third time we've asked for a grace period!"

"Just one more week! Just one more week! The payment from the US will arrive soon!"

"Loans from the US? Nobody believes in that anymore! Either pay the interest today, or we'll apply to the court for enforcement tomorrow! This building will be sealed off!"

The building's roller shutter door was half-closed.

A middle-aged man in gray overalls was gripping the handle of the roller shutter door tightly, as if it were his last lifeline. In front of him stood two young men in dark blue suits, carrying briefcases.

Satsuki was very familiar with that kind of standard suit and briefcase.

The asset preservation department of a bank is commonly known as the "death trap".

After fixing the car, my leather shoes made a clear sound as they stepped on the gravel road.

"cough."

He cleared his throat, his voice not loud, but it sounded particularly out of place in this tense atmosphere.

The three people who were arguing stopped what they were doing and turned around at the same time.

Upon seeing Shuichi's impeccably tailored suit and the car behind him with a special license plate (for members of the House of Nobles), the two bank employees immediately stiffened.

"Who...who is this gentleman?" one of the employees asked tentatively.

Shuichi ignored them, only slightly raising his chin to look at the middle-aged man with a full beard and sunken eyes.

"Is that President Tamura?"

Tamura paused for a moment, instinctively releasing his grip on the roller shutter and wiping his greasy trousers. "Yes...that's me. And you are?"

"My surname is Saionji." The secretary next to him immediately handed over a business card.

"Saionji Temple..."

Tamura took the business card, his cloudy eyes widening sharply when he saw the surname and title. As a seasoned businessman who had spent years in Ginza, he certainly knew what this former aristocratic surname meant.

"Your...Your Grace?" Tamura's voice trembled. "How...how did you come to a place like this?"

The two bank employees exchanged a glance, their arrogance instantly diminishing by half. Although the world now belonged to conglomerates, even a fallen giant is still bigger than a horse; these old-established aristocrats still possessed connections that even their branch manager feared.

"Just passing by."

Xiu Yi said calmly, his gaze sweeping over the two bank employees.

"What's wrong? Is President Tamura in trouble?"

"N-nothing...it's nothing." Tamura lowered his head awkwardly, like a child who had done something wrong. "It's just...there's a little problem with cash flow."

"We're from Sumitomo Bank," an employee said, forcing a smile. "President Tamura has been three months behind on interest payments, and according to regulations..."

"How much?"

Satsuki's voice suddenly broke in.

She stood behind her father, not even reaching Xiuyi's chest, but her tone was as if she were asking how much cabbage cost per pound.

The employee paused, glancing at the little girl who looked like a porcelain doll: "Huh?"

"I'm asking you, how much interest does he owe that makes you all shouting and blocking our way?" Satsuki frowned, seemingly very dissatisfied with the atmosphere.

"Uh... two... two million yen," the employee stammered.

Two million.

For the Saionji family now, it's probably just the cost of a few meals. But for Tamura, it was the last straw that broke the camel's back.

"Father," Satsuki tugged at Shuichi's sleeve, "It's so noisy here. Could you ask them to be quiet? I want to go in and check on things."

Xiu glanced at his daughter and instantly understood her intention.

He pulled out his checkbook from his pocket; it contained platinum checks from Mitsui Bank.

"Two million, right?"

Shuichi took out a Montblanc pen, quickly wrote down a string of numbers, tore off a piece, held it between two fingers, and handed it to the employee.

"Take it."

The clerk held the check as if it were a royal decree. He repeatedly checked the seal on it, then bowed deeply to Shuichi, and pulled his companion into the nearby taxi as if fleeing.

The world is quiet now.

Tamura stared blankly at all of this, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg.

"This...this..." he stammered, "Your Grace, this money...I...I will definitely repay it!"

"No rush."

Shuichi put away his checkbook and glanced at the dilapidated little building.

"I've heard that President Tamura has quite a few fine porcelain pieces here? My daughter has recently become very interested in tea ceremony and would like to pick out a few to practice with. Would you mind if we went in and took a look?"

"Of course! Of course I don't mind!"

Tamura, as if grasping at a straw, frantically pulled the roller shutter up. "Please come in! Please come in quickly! It's a bit messy though..."

……

The building is indeed very messy.

The first floor, which used to be an exhibition hall, is now filled with unopened wooden crates. The crates are marked with "Fragile" and "To New York".

The air was thick with the smell of stale straw and musty cardboard. Without the lights on, the dim light made the place look more like a giant tomb.

"These are all good things."

Tamura casually pried open a box, took out a beautifully painted plate, and said with a dim look in his eyes, "This is a Christmas design made for Macy's. It was a hot item three months ago, but now... they sent a fax saying that unless we lower the price by 20%, they won't take this batch."

"A 20% reduction? Then I won't even be able to pay my workers' wages."

Tamura smiled wryly and put the plate back.

Shuichi didn't say anything, but simply picked up a teacup and looked at it, pretending to appreciate it.

Satsuki, with her hands behind her back, moved among the cluttered boxes like a supervisor.

She didn't look at the porcelain.

She was looking at the walls. At the load-bearing columns. At the pipes in the ceiling.

Although the plaster is peeling off, the building's structure is solid. While buildings from the Showa 30s may seem dated, they are built with sturdy materials. The ceiling height is also sufficient; all it takes is to remove these messy partitions and replace them with floor-to-ceiling glass curtain walls…

She was silently calculating in her mind.

The land area is approximately 80 pings (about 260 square meters). In this location, if the market is good, the land alone is worth 500 million.

But we're in a recession right now. Plus, the building's appearance is so bad that it's been dubbed a "ghost building," so its valuation should be reduced by at least 30%.

Moreover, if the auction goes through the courts, the starting price will be lower, but that will attract vulture-like competitors.

We must take it now.

"Mr. Tamura."

Satsuki stopped in front of a pillar and suddenly spoke.

"This building was also mortgaged to the bank, right?"

Tamura stiffened: "Yes...yes. Three hundred million was mortgaged."

"What are you going to do if those people come back tomorrow, or next month?" Satsuki turned around, her eyes shining brightly in the dim light, yet devoid of any warmth. "Continue borrowing from loan sharks to pay the interest?"

Tamura's face turned deathly pale instantly.

He leaned against a pile of boxes, looking as if his spine had been removed.

"I...I don't know..." He clutched his head, his voice choked with sobs, "I really don't know...I just want to preserve our family business..."

"It can't be saved."

Satsuki's voice was very soft.

"The exchange rate won't go back to normal. Americans won't buy these plates anymore. And the banks won't lend you a single penny."

"On the day the court auctions it off, this building will be sold for scrap metal prices. You will not only lose your family property, but also be burdened with debt for the rest of your life. Your wife and children will be evicted from the house and left homeless."

Tamura trembled all over and let out a suppressed cry of grief.

Shuichi stood to the side, watching his daughter. He found himself feeling a pang of pity.

But he also knew that this was the essence of business. Mercy was for the dead; the living only needed profit.

"However," Satsuki changed the subject, "if you'd like, we might be able to do you a favor."

Tamura suddenly looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes: "Wh...what kind of help?"

Satsuki walked to her father's side and took Shuichi's hand.

Cultivate one's mind and comprehend the spirit.

"President Tamura," Shuichi began, his tone gentle and composed, "I'm somewhat interested in this building. Although it's old and difficult to repair, I happen to need a place to store miscellaneous items."

"I can help you pay off your 300 million yuan bank loan. Also…"

He held up one finger.

"I'll give you another 50 million in cash as a transfer fee for this building."

"Three hundred and fifty million?!" Tamura exclaimed in surprise.

This price, while significantly lower than last year's valuation, is absolutely a bargain in the current market. More importantly, that 50 million is in cash! It's the capital that allows his family to survive and even rebuild their lives!

"But there's one condition."

Shuichi interrupted his surprise.

"The agreement needs to be signed today. It's a private transfer. I don't want to see this building on the court's auction list; that would be too embarrassing."

Tamura looked at Shuichi, then at the little girl standing quietly beside him.

He knew he had been taken advantage of.

But this ordeal left him completely convinced and even grateful.

If he doesn't sell, he'll have nothing next month. If he sells, he'll at least have 50 million left.

"I'll sell!"

Tamura gritted his teeth, tears streaming down his face, not from sadness, but from relief.

"I'll go get the deed and seal right now! Your Grace, thank you so much! You're a blessing!"

He rushed toward the office at the top of the stairs, his steps unsteady yet urgent.

Only Shuichi and Satsuki remained in the warehouse.

Shuichi watched Tamura's retreating figure and sighed softly, "Am I a bodhisattva? I feel like a robber."

Three hundred and fifty million. If this building is renovated, it will be worth at least one billion by this time next year.

"Father, we saved him."

Satsuki looked at the box with "Fragile" printed on it at her feet and gently kicked it with her toe.

"In this coming winter, someone with 50 million in cash is much happier than someone stuck with a dilapidated building that can't be sold."

She looked up and surveyed the dark, damp building.

Beneath the peeling paint, she seemed to see the future.

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows, dazzling crystal chandeliers, elegant ladies in Chanel suits moving about inside, the air filled with the scent of expensive perfumes.

This place will no longer be a warehouse for storing broken porcelain.

This will be the first flag that the Saionji family has planted in Ginza.

"Buy it," Satsuki said softly. "Then, throw all this junk out."

"We want to give this building a new look."

……

Half an hour later.

Tamura held the check, still warm from his body, and bowed deeply to the Saionji family's car until its taillights disappeared around the corner.

inside the car.

Satsuki took off her hat, revealing her somewhat messy hair.

"Father, where are we going next?"

Shuichi held the newly signed house transfer agreement in his hand, his feelings mixed. He felt a thrill of finding a bargain, but also a subtle sense of shame as a nobleman acting as a "middleman."

"Let's go home. That's enough for today," Shuichi said.

"No."

Satsuki shook her head. She took a map out of her bag; it was a map of Akasaka.

"It's not dark yet."

She pointed to an intersection in Akasaka-mitsuke.

"There's another textile export company over there, and I heard the president is preparing to jump off a building."

"Let's go 'rescue' him."

Looking at his daughter's innocent face, Shuichi suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

But he still knocked on the partition and instructed the driver:

"Go to Akasaka."

The car accelerated into the twilight, like an elegant yet greedy black panther, rushing into the chaotic night of Tokyo.

The hunt has only just begun.