Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 118 A Knife Coated with Honey

October 3, 1988, early morning.

Tokyo, Akasaka-mi-zukuri.

The Akasaka Prince Hotel stands like a folded silver fan on a high platform in Kioi-cho.

Designed by Kenzo Tange, this building is one of the most famous landmarks in Tokyo during the bubble economy era and a symbol of power for the Seibu Group.

Its exterior walls are entirely made of sawtooth-shaped glass curtain walls, reflecting the cold morning light on this late autumn morning.

The air in the executive suite on the 40th floor was dry and warm.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at Tokyo below.

He was wearing a dark gray silk dressing gown, and instead of holding a glass of red wine, he was carrying a red and blue pencil. A huge map of the Kanto region was pasted on the glass window in front of him.

"The expansion of Karuizawa needs to be accelerated."

He drew a red circle in the northwest corner of the map.

"The ski resort in Naeba doesn't have enough guest rooms, so they're going to build two more towers next year. And what about Hakone... has the land deal been finalized for that Lake Ashi site?"

His secretary, Shimada, stood behind him, holding a notebook in his hands, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

"Chairman, the land ownership in Hakone is a bit complicated, there are a few holdouts..."

"I bought it."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi tapped the glass hard with his red and blue pencils, making a crisp "thud" sound.

"No matter the cost, just give it to them. Land prices are still rising. As long as they can build a hotel, we can double our profits next year."

His voice carried an undeniable fervor.

This is Yoshiaki Tsutsumi in 1988.

He is the world's richest man on the Forbes list, the "Emperor of Seibu" who owns one-sixth of Japan's land. In his eyes, there is only land, hotels, and the grand plan to take Seibu Estate public.

As for the rest, they are all minor details.

"Ding-dong."

The doorbell rang.

Shimada glanced at his watch; it was 7:30 in the morning.

"President, Ms. Saionji has arrived."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stopped what he was doing, turned around, and casually tossed the pencil onto the table.

"Let her in."

He walked to the sofa area, sat down, and picked up the black coffee on the table.

"She came so early; hopefully the news she brings will be more interesting than the bottle of Romanée-Conti she brought last time."

……

The door opened.

Satsuki walked in.

She wasn't wearing her school uniform today, but rather a well-tailored beige Chanel tweed suit, carrying an inconspicuous black cooler. Behind her followed Fujita Tsuyoshi, who was carrying a thick stack of documents.

Good morning, Uncle Ti.

Satsuki bowed slightly, performing a standard junior's greeting. Her smile was gentle and graceful, like that of a well-behaved niece visiting an elder.

"I'm so sorry to bother you so early in the morning."

"Not at all."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi put down his coffee cup, a kind smile typical of an elder appearing on his face—his eyes still held a hint of seriousness.

"S-Collection is doing incredibly well in Shibuya; my niece is constantly asking to go shopping for clothes there. I've also heard that Uniqlo is very popular in the suburbs lately? The Saionji family has truly produced an outstanding heir."

"It's all thanks to you."

Satsuki walked to the coffee table and put down the black insulated box.

"If it weren't for Seibu Department Store giving us such a good location, S-Collection wouldn't be where it is today. My father has always asked me to convey his gratitude to you."

"Hehe, Shuichi-kun, you're too kind."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced at the insulated box.

"What is this? Which famous shop's pastry is this?"

"No."

Satsuki shook her head.

She unlocked the insulated box.

A rich, warm steam, infused with spices and oils, instantly billowed out, filling the suite with its luxurious fragrance.

Five neatly arranged disposable plastic lunch boxes are displayed in front of you.

"This is freshly cooked curry beef rice."

Satsuki took out a box, tore open the seal, and placed a disposable spoon next to it.

"The first batch of samples produced at the S-Food Chiba factory at 4 a.m. this morning. I would like to invite you to try them."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi frowned almost imperceptibly.

Eating a boxed lunch in the presidential suite of the Akasaka Prince Hotel? That's practically performance art.

But he did not react.

Because sitting opposite me is Saionji Satsuki.

That monster who amassed hundreds of billions during the Plaza Accord's currency storm, reaped huge profits on the ruins of Wall Street on "Black Monday," and even single-handedly wove the massive web of power known as "The Club"...

She usually has her reasons for doing everything.

"Curry rice?"

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi picked up a spoon and stirred the thick, brown sauce.

The beef was cut into standard 2.5-centimeter cubes, and the carrots and potatoes were also exactly the same size, as if they had been measured with a ruler.

He scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth.

chew.

The beef was tender and flavorful, with a spicy kick and a hint of sweet onion. The rice was perfectly cooked, with each grain distinct and cooked to the right consistency.

The taste... is standard. Nothing to complain about, but nothing surprising either.

But...it seems a little better than the usual chain stores? Maybe the ingredients are slightly different? Yoshiaki Tsutsumi rarely eats such inexpensive food and can't really tell the difference.

"Well enough."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi put down his spoon and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"However, if it's just to treat me to breakfast, there's no need to go to all this trouble. FamilyMart has plenty of these kinds of bento boxes on their shelves."

Yes, there are a lot.

Satsuki also picked up a box, but didn't open it; she simply tapped the plastic lid lightly with her fingers.

"But Uncle Tee, do you know how much the bento boxes on FamilyMart's shelves cost to make?"

Without waiting for Yoshiaki's reply, she took a document from Tsuyoshi Fujita and spread it out on the coffee table.

That was a comparison table.

The left side shows FamilyMart's current fresh food supply chain cost structure. The right side shows S-Food's pricing.

"Uncle Ti, please forgive my bluntness."

Satsuki's voice changed; the gentle pretense gradually faded, revealing the fangs of a merchant.

"FamilyMart currently relies on dozens of scattered small and medium-sized contract manufacturers for its fresh food supply. This results in inconsistent standards, low delivery efficiency, and a high rate of spoilage."

She moved her finger to the red number on the right.

"S-Food has built the most advanced central kitchen in Japan, and with the latest data system, we can prepare three meals a day. Most importantly, the cost is 20% lower than it is now."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi glanced at the number, then chuckled softly and leaned back on the sofa.

"My niece Satsuki, you've got a good plan."

He took a cigar out of the cigar box, played with it in his hand, and his eyes became somewhat amused.

"But you've got the wrong person. You know, FamilyMart is a property of the Saison Group (Seibu Distribution). It's in the hands of my 'poet' brother."

When mentioning the word "older brother," Yoshiaki Tsutsumi's tone was filled with undisguised contempt.

Although collectively known as the Seibu Group, the cold war between Yoshiaki Tsutsumi (railway group) and his half-brother Seiji Tsutsumi (distribution group) is common knowledge. The two brothers do not interfere with each other, and even secretly compete in certain areas.

"That guy, Qing Er, has always been very arrogant. He probably won't like me interfering in his business, and he certainly won't accept my 'advice'."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi fiddled with his cigar, seemingly preparing to see his guest off.

"It's precisely because it's in Uncle Qing's hands that we need your help."

Satsuki didn't move. Instead, she leaned forward, lowered her voice, and gave it a seductive tone.

"The Saison Group has been making a lot of acquisitions overseas recently. I heard that Uncle Qing is currently under a lot of financial strain in order to buy the InterContinental Hotels Group."

She stretched out her finger and lightly drew a line on the table.

"The bank is currently reassessing the risks. Uncle Qing is in dire need of new financing collateral, but the bank... only recognizes your land."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi stopped cutting the cigar.

He raised his eyelids and stared sharply at Satsuki.

"Go on."

"If you demand that FamilyMart reform its supply chain, cut costs, and increase profit margins on the grounds of 'the overall financial health of the group,' Uncle Qing will have to bow down in order to realize his global hotel dream and obtain your land guarantee."

Satsuki pointed to the price list.

"This 20% cost reduction is the best reason for you to put pressure on him. No shareholder can refuse such a profit increase."

"and……"

Satsuki's voice grew even softer; the witch's poison had seeped into Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's most secret desires.

"If you can gain control of FamilyMart's supply channels and real-time data through S-Food, it's like holding the distribution group by the throat. Then, whether Uncle Qing's performance is good or bad will be entirely up to you, won't it?"

A brief silence fell over the room.

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi looked at the fifteen-year-old girl in front of him.

She was dressed in the most elegant suit and spoke the most polite words, but her schemes were more ruthless than any old fox.

By taking advantage of the brothers' internal strife, they can profit from both sides.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi suddenly burst into laughter. He lit a cigar, took a deep drag, and looked at Satsuki through the swirling smoke.

"Excellent! Excellent method!"

"Shuichi-kun really has a terrifying daughter."

This is more than just a business deal. It's like sending him a knife to stab his disobedient older brother, or a knife coated with honey.

He could make money, put pressure on Seiichiro Tsutsumi, and also carve out his own niche within the distribution group.

Why not?

"it is good."

Yoshiaki Tsutsumi picked up the red and blue pencil and signed his name heavily on the document.

"I'll have Shimada send a letter to Seiji. Tell him that this is a decision made by the 'head office' for the sake of Seibu's brand image. If he doesn't want to jeopardize Saison's financing, he should obediently sign it."

He pushed the document back to Satsuki, his eyes gleaming.

"Go ahead. Get your factory up and running. I want to see what kind of expression that 'poet' will have when he sees this bill."

……

Ten minutes later.

Outside the Akasaka Prince Hotel.

The midday sun of late autumn pierced through the clouds and shone down relentlessly on the jagged glass curtain wall.

The entire building is silver-white, with a dazzlingly strong reflection, like a giant silver needle stuck in the heart of Tokyo.

"Young Miss".

Fujita opened the car door, placed his hand on the roof, hesitated for a moment, and then asked the question.

"Giving up 20% means S-Food's net profit will be almost zero for the next two years. Just to help Yoshiaki Tsutsumi control his brother, is this deal... worth it?"

He has recently been learning from his grandfather what to pay attention to when becoming the butler of the Saionji family. His grandfather said a lot, but there was one key point - learn more from the young lady.

Satsuki stopped in her tracks.

Instead of answering directly, she raised her hand to shield her forehead and squinted at the towering building.

"Fujita."

Her voice still seemed to carry the gentleness of a junior.

"If a whale cuts out its own stomach to swim faster, how long do you think it could live?"

Fujita paused for a moment, then subconsciously looked up at the arrogant headquarters of the Western Martial Empire, a chill suddenly running down his spine.

"Let's go."

Satsuki climbed into the back seat, straightened her skirt, and didn't look at her again.

"Notify the village that the interface is connected. Prepare to receive all traffic from FamilyMart."

The car doors closed, shutting out the noise.

The black sedan slid into traffic and headed towards Ikebukuro.

In the rearview mirror, the silver skyscraper still gleamed in the sunlight, greedily reflecting the most dazzling light of the bubble era.