activa-t Chapter 7 The Afternoon Tea War
Chapter 7 The Afternoon Tea War
In May, the air in Tokyo begins to carry the scent of early summer.
Deep within St. Wah Girls' College lies a Victorian red-brick building covered in ivy. Known as the "White Rose House," it is a lounge and relaxation space reserved by the college for senior students and students of "status."
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows onto the parquet floor, and the air was filled with the aroma of Darjeeling tea and fine dust.
This is the battlefield for ladies.
In this place without the smoke of battle, the location of a seat, the brand of teaware, the topic of conversation, and even the origin of a cookie all represent invisible social classes.
The atmosphere around a round table near the fireplace was almost excessively lively.
"This is a dessert that my dad specially arranged to be flown in from the Maxim's restaurant in Paris! Apparently, only VIP customers can order it."
Wearing a school uniform with a shortened skirt, Masami Okura, like a proud peacock, loudly showed off the several beautifully packaged boxes of macarons on the table.
In 1985 Japan, these colorful French almond cookies were still an extremely rare luxury item.
The four or five girls surrounding her let out exaggerated gasps of amazement.
"As expected of Okura-kun! He's amazing!"
"The same thing happened when I went to Hawaii during Golden Week. The Okura family's private jet is really enviable."
"I heard your family's huge land reclamation project in Chiba Prefecture is about to start? Will Okura Construction become the 'Okura Group' soon?"
Hearing the praise from those around her, the gloom on Masami Okura's face finally dissipated somewhat.
Ever since being publicly humiliated by Saionji Satsuki on the first day of school, she had been seething with anger. She had her father procure these rare items from abroad to show everyone: in this era, money is the only truth. What else can a fallen aristocrat do besides stand there, putting on airs in their poverty?
Thinking of this, Masami Okura deliberately raised her voice and glanced defiantly toward the quiet corner by the window.
There, Satsuki was sitting alone on a single sofa.
There were no mountains of imported snacks in front of her, only a cup of ordinary black tea provided by the school, and a foreign language book in her hand. The sunlight outlined her delicate profile, making her look like a girl who had stepped out of an oil painting.
That calm, quiet, and detached demeanor made Masami Okura feel utterly displeased.
"Oh dear, everyone, stop eating so much!" Masami Okura picked up a pink macaron and said, feigning surprise, "Saionji seems to be all alone over there. Poor thing, she's probably used to eating those... well, traditional wagashi (Japanese sweets), and can't get used to these fancy Western confections, right?"
Her entourage exchanged awkward glances.
After what happened last time, everyone knew that Saionji Satsuki was not someone to be trifled with. However, these families all had business dealings with the Okura family, either as building material suppliers or as small contractors dependent on the Okura family, and no one dared to offend the young lady of this wealthy patron.
"Yes...yes," a girl with a bob haircut reluctantly agreed, "After all, the Saionji family is...more frugal these days."
Masami Okura raised her chin smugly: "That's why I say people should know their place. Some people, even though they're practically living off selling antiques, still insist on acting all high and mighty. People like that are only fit to drink plain water."
Her voice was loud enough for half the people in the salon to hear.
The other small groups who had been whispering stopped and their gazes shifted between the two.
Everyone was waiting to see Satsuki's reaction. Would she retaliate sharply like last time? Or would she leave in shame and anger?
However, Satsuki didn't even lift her eyelids.
Her slender fingers gently turned a page of the book, as if the noise over there was just the chirping of cicadas outside the window, noisy but not worth human attention.
But beneath that calm exterior, Satsuki's senses were fully awakened.
She is screening.
The circle around Masami Okura appears to be a united front, but in reality, it's all about shared interests.
The girl with the bob haircut who agreed with me comes from a family that makes precast concrete slabs.
The long-haired girl next to me who hadn't said a word and was just drinking her tea with her head down...
Satsuki's gaze fell on the long-haired girl.
Yoshino Ayako.
Satsuki remembered the name. On the school roster, her father's name was listed as "Branch Manager of Mitsui Bank Shinjuku Branch".
In an era when banks wielded immense power, branch managers were figures of real authority. For highly leveraged real estate developers like Ōkura Corporation, the lifeline of their finances rested in the hands of these bankers. Conversely, banks, driven by performance targets, needed to lend money to aggressively expanding companies like Ōkura.
This is a symbiotic relationship.
But symbiosis often means the greatest vulnerability. Because if one party experiences a crisis of trust, the alliance will collapse instantly.
"Yesterday, Shuichi mentioned that the Banking Bureau of the Ministry of Finance seems to be frequently meeting with senior executives of the major capital banks..."
Satsuki closed the book and retrieved memories of her past life into her mind.
May 1985. Although the Plaza Accord had not yet been implemented, signs of overheating in Japanese real estate credit were already emerging. While the Ministry of Finance (now the Ministry of Finance) had not yet formally introduced "aggregate controls," it had repeatedly issued warning signals of "window guidance" in internal meetings, requiring banks to control the proportion of financing for the real estate industry.
This kind of policy shift, which only high-level officials are aware of, is completely unknown to Yoshino Ayako, the daughter of a branch manager who is still in junior high school.
But for her father, it was a matter of life and death.
Satsuki's lips curled up slightly.
She stood up, but instead of going to Masami Okura, she went to the bookshelf in the corner of the salon.
That bookshelf was located diagonally behind Masami Okura's table.
As Satsuki passed by Ayako Yoshino, she seemed to pause unintentionally, as if she had tripped over a carpet.
"what!"
Ayako Yoshino instinctively reached out and helped her up.
"careful."
"Thank you, Yoshino-kun." Satsuki steadied herself, turned around, and gave a grateful smile.
"You're welcome..." Ayako Yoshino was somewhat flattered. She had actually always wanted to befriend Satsuki, but she dared not show it because of Masami Okura's tyrannical power.
Satsuki didn't leave immediately. She took half a step closer to Yoshino Ayako and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"By the way, Yoshino-kun. How has your father been lately...?"
Ayako Yoshino was taken aback: "Huh? My father is perfectly healthy..."
"Really? That's wonderful." Satsuki patted her chest lightly, as if she had breathed a sigh of relief. "The other day, Father came back from the House of Nobles and mentioned that the officials in the Ministry of Finance seem to be in a bad mood lately, and they've been investigating things like 'illegal financing' and 'bad real estate debts.' I thought your father, as the branch manager, would be under a lot of pressure lately."
These words were spoken in a rambling and incoherent manner.
But several key terms—"House of Nobles," "Ministry of Finance," "illegal financing," and "real estate bad debts"—exploded like a series of thunderclaps in Ayako Yoshino's ears.
As the daughter of a banker, she was exposed to these words from a young age and has a natural sensitivity to them.
If the Ministry of Finance is indeed investigating illegal financing...
If real estate lending really is going to be tightened...
She glanced instinctively at Masami Okura, who was sitting next to her, eating macarons and boasting that "the Chiba reclamation project will receive an additional 5 billion yen in loans."
The Okura family's project, it's said, was mainly financed by... Mitsui Bank's Shinjuku branch! That's the branch her father oversees!
If the Okura family can't get a loan due to policy reasons, or if their financial chain breaks down, then the father, as the main person in charge...
Ayako Yoshino's face turned deathly pale instantly.
In the Japanese workplace, where joint liability is extremely serious, such an incident could result in anything from exile to the frontier to seppuku (a metaphor for committing seppuku).
"Saionji-kun," Ayako Yoshino's voice trembled. Ignoring Masami Okura's presence, she grabbed Satsuki's sleeve urgently. "Is...is what you heard true?"
Satsuki looked slightly embarrassed, as if she realized she had let something slip.
She held up a finger and gently pressed it to her lips.
"Shh—Yoshino-kun, this was just Father's casual complaint; perhaps I misheard. After all, a company as powerful as the Okura family must have strong connections in the Ministry of Finance, so there's no need to worry about this kind of 'minor review,' right?"
She deliberately emphasized the words "capable" and "minor review".
This is like telling the other person: if it's true, then your father is doomed.
Ayako Yoshino felt a chill run from her feet to the top of her head. Looking at Masami Okura, who was still incessantly boasting, the envy in her eyes instantly turned into fear.
That's a time bomb that could explode at any moment!
"I...I remember now!" Ayako Yoshino suddenly stood up, her movement so forceful that she knocked over the teacup in front of her.
The tea spilled onto the tablecloth, wetting the expensive box of macarons.
"What's wrong, Ayako?" Masami Okura frowned in annoyance. "Why are you so startled? My macarons are all wet."
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Ayako Yoshino, pale-faced, bowed haphazardly while grabbing her schoolbag. "I... I suddenly remembered that my mom told me to come home early today, saying... saying there was an emergency at home! I have to go now!"
After saying that, she didn't give Okura Masami a chance to react, and rushed out of the salon as if her life depended on it. She had to go home immediately, even if it meant calling a public phone to tell her father the news!
Ayako Yoshino's sudden departure caused a moment of deathly silence to fall over the previously lively round table.
Masami Okura was holding half a macaron, frozen in mid-air.
"What's going on..." she muttered, "She's acting all crazy."
However, fear is contagious.
Although the remaining girls at the table didn't know what Satsuki and Yoshino had talked about, Yoshino Ayako's "ghost-like" expression and her reaction as a banker's daughter made the others start to feel uneasy.
The girl with the bob haircut whose family made precast cement slabs rolled her eyes. Her family was a downstream supplier to the Okura family, and the Okura family still owed her family three months' worth of payments.
If even the banker's daughter has run away... does this mean the Okura family's financial chain is really in trouble?
"Um... Okura-kun," the bob-haired girl forced a smile, "I think I heard my name called over the loudspeaker just now, it's probably because club activities are about to start. I... I'll be going now."
"Me too! I want to join a club!"
"Ah, I just remembered I haven't finished my homework..."
In just one minute.
The followers who had just been fawning over Masami Okura scattered like birds and beasts, making up all sorts of lame excuses.
Only Masami Okura remained at the large round table.
There was also the table of black tea that was gradually getting cold, and the macarons that had gotten soggy and limp.
Masami Okura stared blankly at the empty seats. She couldn't understand what had happened. Just moments ago, everyone was envying her and trying to please her, so why was everyone suddenly avoiding her like the plague?
An unprecedented sense of shame and loneliness welled up inside me.
Just then, a light footstep sound came.
Masami Okura looked up.
Saionji Satsuki was standing by the table, holding a snow-white embroidered handkerchief in her hand.
She didn't show the mockery that Masami Okura had imagined. Instead, she frowned slightly, and a perfectly measured hint of pity appeared in her eyes.
"Okura-kun," Satsuki said softly, "you have jam on your lips."
She handed over a handkerchief.
Masami Okura stared intently at the handkerchief, then glanced at Satsuki's flawless face.
In that instant, she finally understood.
is her!
Although I don't know what she did, it must have been this woman who did it!
"Who wants your fake kindness!" Okura Masami suddenly waved her hand, knocking the handkerchief out of Satsuki's hand.
"Don't think I don't know it was you! What did you say to Yoshino? You insidious woman! You're just jealous that I'm rich!" Okura Masami screamed hysterically, her voice echoing in the quiet salon.
The girls at the other tables around looked over, their eyes filled with disdain.
At St. John's College, shouting and yelling are the lowest forms of behavior.
Satsuki did not pick up the handkerchief that had fallen to the ground.
She simply watched the out-of-control Masami Okura, as if she were watching a wild beast trapped in a cage, running around wildly.
"envy?"
Satsuki repeated the word softly, a faint smile curving her lips.
She leaned down, close to Masami Okura's ear. This time, she no longer feigned gentleness; her voice was as cold as a chilling wind from hell:
"Okura-kun, you seem to have misunderstood something."
"A lion is not jealous of a sheep eating grass."
"Let's eat as many sweets as possible before the bank seals down our house. After all... we might not be able to eat them again later."
After saying this, Satsuki straightened up and resumed her elegant young lady demeanor.
"It seems like Okura isn't in a good mood, so I won't bother him."
She turned and left, her steps light and graceful.
Masami Okura was left sitting there alone, trembling, her back soaked with cold sweat. Looking at the desserts on the table that she had originally intended to show off, she now felt they were like a pile of mud, exuding a nauseatingly sweet smell.
It was also on this afternoon that Satsuki first showed these pampered young women from the ivory tower what violence without needing to raise one's voice truly meant.