Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 1 Black Lotus in the Rain

April in Tokyo should be the season for cherry blossoms to fall, but this year's late spring cold snap has been particularly stubborn.

Outside the Aoyama Funeral Home, a long line of black Toyota Century and Nissan Presidential sedans stretched out. Dark clouds loomed over everyone's heads, like a gray silk scarf draped over the sky.

Satsuki stood quietly in front of the full-length mirror in the lounge.

The girl reflected in the mirror was dressed in a well-tailored black mourning dress, with a dark gray ribbon tied at the collar. Her skin was somewhat pale from days of vigil, but this only made her obsidian-like eyes appear exceptionally deep.

She slightly adjusted her posture, letting her shoulders hunch in slightly—a delicate angle that perfectly conveyed both the refined manners of a noblewoman and a sense of helplessness and vulnerability, a desperate need for protection.

"Asset valuation: Excellent."

She defined herself in her heart.

Not as a person, but as a biological container called "Saionji Satsuki".

Memories of her past life were like an overly clear film reel. The smell of coffee at four in the morning at the Goldman Sachs building, the screen filled with jumping red and green K-lines, the board resolution that pushed her out as a scapegoat to cover up billions of dollars in bad debts, and the weightlessness she felt when falling from the top of Manhattan at the last moment... all the sensory experiences had been completely digested by this twelve-year-old body.

She raised her hand and gently stroked the mirror; her fingertips were icy cold.

"How ironic." She looked at her youthful face in the mirror, a faint smile curving her lips, almost imperceptible. "In my past life, I struggled desperately to squeeze into high society, only to be disposed of like trash. In this life, I don't have to do anything; I opened my eyes and was already at the finish line."

The Saionji family, a former aristocratic clan, held the rank of duke. Although the postwar constitution stripped the aristocracy of many privileges, in this island nation where lineage and social standing were still highly valued, these three words remained a VIP ticket to the core of power. Even the GHQ (General Headquarters for the Allied Powers) retained the House of Peers as a check on the elected parliament (House of Representatives) during its postwar reforms to prevent Japan from becoming Sovietized.

"Young Miss".

An aged voice came from behind.

It was the butler, Fujita.

The moment Satsuki turned around, that playful, cold smile vanished without a trace. In its place were a pair of slightly reddened eyes, brimming with tears, yet stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

"Grandpa Fujita, is Father still in the front hall?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, like a lily battered by wind and rain.

Fujita looked at the heartbreaking child before him, bowed deeply, and said with deep concern, "Yes, the head of the family is currently receiving guests from the Ministry of International Trade and Industry and Mitsubishi Bank. It's windy outside, please rest here..."

"No." Satsuki gently shook her head, her resolute gesture deeply moving. "Mother is gone, I can't let Father face those... small talk alone."

She straightened her skirt, took a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy oak door of the lounge.

……

Inside the main hall of the funeral home, white chrysanthemums surrounded the coffin, and the air was filled with the scent of incense and expensive cologne.

People came to pay their respects in an endless stream. The men in black suits, though speaking in hushed tones in this solemn setting, showed little sadness in their eyes, as if they were treating the funeral as a convenient business meeting.

"Congress Member Saionji, please accept my condolences."

"That's natural, regarding the port development project mentioned earlier..."

"Oh dear, your daughter is so pitiful, so young and already..."

Satsuki walked quietly through the crowd, like a ghost detached from sorrow, keenly capturing fragments of information around her.

1985 years.

This is the eve of a crazy era. Japan at this moment is like a golden train rushing at full speed toward a cliff. Sony's Walkman is sweeping the globe, Toyota is conquering Detroit, the famous Rockefeller Center has not yet changed its name to "Japan," and on the other side of the ocean, the cowboy president named Ronald Reagan is sharpening his knives, preparing to bleed this fat oriental behemoth at the Plaza Hotel a few months later.

The Saionji family is now at a crossroads between life and death.

In a corner of the hall, the father, Shuichi Saionji, was surrounded by several people.

Shuichi was a typical handsome Japanese man, maintaining a refined demeanor even in middle age. However, at this moment, his eyes were bloodshot, and although his back was ramrod straight, it revealed a stiffness that was forced.

Surrounding him were several bank executives and a slightly overweight man with shrewd eyes—that was Satsuki's uncle, Saionji Kenjiro, who had separated from the family.

Satsuki didn't go over immediately, but instead hid behind a huge marble pillar, clutching an embroidered handkerchief tightly in her hand.

"Brother, I know it's not the right time to talk about this," Kenjiro said in a low voice, but his words came out quickly, revealing his impatience. "But Mr. Sato, the managing director of Sumitomo Bank, is right here. We need to get a word on the 5 billion yen loan for that factory expansion today. Once it's signed, the new production line can start construction next month, just in time for the Christmas orders from America!"

Shuichi rubbed his temples, his voice weary: "Kenshiro, today is Yuriko's funeral. Don't you think it's incredibly rude to discuss this kind of money-grubbing business in front of her memorial hall?"

"Big Brother!" Kenjiro was getting anxious. He took a step closer, disregarding social distancing. "It's because Sister-in-law is gone that the family is in a state of panic, and the stock price has even dropped by two points! We have to release some positive news now to stabilize the situation! Besides, this is an export order to the United States, in US dollars! That's hard currency!"

The bank executive standing nearby chimed in at the opportune moment, a professional, fake smile on his face: "Mr. Saionji, your brother is right. The export situation is excellent right now, and the Ministry of International Trade and Industry is also encouraging heavy industry companies to go global. This quota was specially approved because of the Saionji family; once this opportunity is gone, it won't come again."

A look of hesitation appeared on Shuichi's face.

He didn't understand the complexities of macroeconomics, but he knew that the family's textile and machinery parts factories had recently been very profitable. Five billion yen was a huge sum for the Saionji family at present, almost enough to mortgage half of their ancestral land in Osaka. But if, as his younger brother said, they could catch up with the American orders…

"Really...can it really work?" Shuichi's voice wavered.

Hearing Shuichi's wavering voice, Satsuki, behind the pillar, flashed a cold light in her eyes.

This is not a lifeline, it's clearly poison coated in sugar.

Five months from now, on September 22nd, once the Plaza Accord is signed, the yen will appreciate dramatically, doubling in value within a short period. At that time, export-oriented companies relying on cheap labor and exchange rate advantages will face annihilation. Investing this 9 billion yen loan in the factory is like throwing money into an incinerator; not only will it leave no trace, but it will also leave behind a mountain of debt that can never be repaid, ultimately forcing the Saionji family to sell off their ancestral property and relegate them to a second-rate family.

That's probably how it was written in my previous life.

But in this life, the screenwriter has changed.

Satsuki took a deep breath and adjusted her breathing. She reached out and pinched her inner thigh hard, and tears welled up in her eyes instantly.

The performance begins.

"Father..."

A timid, tearful voice suddenly broke into the conversation, which was full of calculations of self-interest.

Shuichi turned around abruptly and saw his daughter standing a few steps away. Her small body was wrapped in black mourning clothes, making her look so frail. She held a cup of steaming tea in her hand, and her hands were trembling slightly from "nervousness".

"Satsuki?" Shuichi quickly left the banker and strode over. "Why are you out here? Didn't I tell you to rest?"

"I saw Father talking a lot, and his voice seemed hoarse, so..." Satsuki lowered her head, looking at the patent leather shoes on her toes, her voice barely audible.

Shuichi's heart melted instantly. He took the teacup, his eyes welling up with tears. His daughter was so thoughtful; even after losing her mother, she was still thinking of taking care of him.

"Oh, it's Satsuki." Kenjiro rubbed his hands awkwardly, trying to maintain an elder's kind demeanor. "What a thoughtful and good child. But Uncle is discussing something very important with Dad, would you like to go back to your room?"

Satsuki raised her head, her large, wet eyes looking at Kenjiro with a clear gaze that revealed no impurities.

"Is Uncle talking about... that big factory?"

Kenjiro was taken aback for a moment, then laughed and said, "Yes, it's to make the Saionji family richer, so that Satsuki can have a better life in the future."

"But……"

Satsuki frowned her beautiful eyebrows, as if she had encountered an extremely difficult math problem. She raised her voice slightly, so that the politicians talking nearby could vaguely hear her.

"But when I went to deliver the return gift to Uncle William at the American embassy just now, I heard him throwing a tantrum."

This sentence is like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

Several ears perked up nearby immediately twitched. The words "American Embassy" held a special magic in this era.

Kenjiro's expression changed slightly: "Mr. William? What's wrong with him?"

Satsuki tilted her head, twisting the hem of her clothes with her fingers, and innocently repeated, "He seemed to be smashing a cup, saying something in English... 'Trade Deficit,' and something about 'Enough is enough.' He also said that those Japanese containers shipped to the United States were like... like a flood that was going to overwhelm Detroit, and the Americans were going to build a dam to hold it back."

She spoke in very broken Japanese, interspersed with a few standard English words.

Xiu Yi was stunned.

Several guests around also stopped talking and their eyes drifted over, intentionally or unintentionally.

Satsuki seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere. She snuggled closer to her father, as if terrified by the imagined scene: "Father, Uncle said he's going to build a big factory to sell things to Americans. But what if the Americans really get angry and shut down the dam? What if everything we make... becomes unwanted garbage? How are we going to pay back all the money we borrowed from the bank? Will we end up like the Kobayashi family next door, with their property sealed off...?"

As she finished speaking, her body trembled slightly, as if she had truly witnessed that terrifying future.

Dead silence.

A brief silence enveloped the small circle.

Everyone present was shrewd. They were well aware of the recent uproar over the US-Japan trade friction, with US congressmen even smashing Toshiba radios in front of the White House. But everyone was betting that it was just a political stunt, betting that the Reagan administration wouldn't actually take drastic measures against its allies.

However, these words, spoken by a 12-year-old girl who had just lost her mother, carried a strange, soul-searching prophetic quality.

The veil of shame torn away by those "innocent remarks" sent a chill down the spines of all the adults present.

Shuichi looked at his daughter in his arms, then at the bank executive next to him with a grim expression.

He wasn't a fool. Although his daughter's words were full of childlike naiveté, the logic within them was like a lightning bolt, cleaving through the fog in his mind.

If the US really takes action to restrict imports or force the yen to appreciate... then expanding production now would indeed be suicidal.

"Nonsense!" Kenjiro panicked, his voice rising several octaves. "What does a child know about national affairs! That's diplomacy, that's politics! Americans can't live without our products!"

"Kenjiro!"

Xiu Yi suddenly shouted, his voice not loud, but carrying the authority of the family head.

He placed his hand on Satsuki's shoulder, feeling his daughter's frail body tremble, and the scales in his heart tipped completely.

"Making a racket in front of the funeral hall, is this your manners?" Shuichi looked coldly at his younger brother.

Kenjiro opened his mouth, his face turning a deep purplish-red, but he couldn't utter a single word. In Japanese society, which values ​​etiquette, losing his temper with his niece at his brother's funeral was enough to ruin his reputation.

Shuichi turned his head, gave a slight bow to the bank's executive director, and resumed his impeccable aristocratic demeanor: "Executive Director Sato, I am truly sorry that you had to witness this. My daughter was somewhat overwhelmed by the passing of her wife and spoke incoherently."

The executive officer smiled awkwardly: "Not at all, your daughter... is very intelligent, and her English pronunciation is very fluent."

Xiu Yi abruptly changed the subject, his tone becoming ambiguous: "Regarding the loan, the amount is indeed huge, and as my daughter said, the international situation is indeed somewhat uncertain. In order to be responsible to the bank and to the family, I think we should wait until after Yuriko's seventh day memorial before making further plans."

This is how adults refuse.

"Taking a long-term view" usually means postponing indefinitely.

Kenjiro was struck dumb. He stared wide-eyed at Shuichi, then at Satsuki, who was hiding in Shuichi's arms.

He saw that his little niece, who had just looked terrified like a little white rabbit, was now turning her face to the side.

From an angle that Shuichi couldn't see, there was no trace of fear in her eyes, which were originally filled with tears.

That was clearly a bottomless, icy pool.

Satsuki slightly raised her chin, and a faint smile played on her lips as she looked at her astonished uncle. It was an extremely subtle smile, full of provocation and mockery.

Like a black lily blooming on a grave, beautiful, yet deadly poisonous.

Kenjiro felt a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head. He wanted to say something, but found his throat dry.

"Well then, Father, Uncle, I'll take my leave now."

Satsuki resumed her obedient demeanor, gracefully curtsied, and turned to leave.

The rain was still falling, with no sign of stopping.

In the corridor, Satsuki hummed an unknown tune softly. Her steps were light, her little black leather shoes making a crisp "tap, tap" sound on the marble floor.

Round one, a complete victory.

But this is just the beginning.

She walked to the window and looked out at the dark, rainy night and the blurry lights of the Tokyo Tower in the distance.

Her young face and her eyes burning with ambition were reflected in the glass window.

"Fifty billion yen..." she murmured to herself in a voice only she could hear, "This money, we really need to borrow. But not for building a factory..."

She stretched out her finger and slowly wrote an English word on the fogged windowpane.

It is not "Factory".

But -

"Short" (to short sell).

A thunderclap ripped through the night sky, and the pale lightning instantly illuminated the word, as well as the chilling smile on her face.

That was the smile of a hunter.