Chapter 86 The Fatal Flaw of the Scream

The time came to December 1989.

At this time, Japan was in a crazy era where even the air seemed to be filled with the smell of money.

The Nikkei 225 index, like a completely irrational bull, roared as it relentlessly approached the unprecedented 38000-point mark.

The entire city of Tokyo, and indeed all of Japan, was shrouded in a morbid, death-defying frenzy.

Television news broadcasts daily stories that are enough to send the nation's adrenaline soaring: for example, Japanese zaibatsu spending a fortune to buy Rockefeller Center, a symbol of America, and Sony expanding its reach into Hollywood by acquiring Columbia Pictures.

In the dead of night, neon lights illuminate the Ginza streets as if it were daytime.

Even female college graduates who have just entered the workforce dare to stand on street corners, waving tens of thousands of yuan in cash, just to try and grab a taxi in the traffic.

In high society circles, a golf club membership card has been sold for exorbitant prices, much like stocks.

At this magical juncture where even breathing can generate income, all 100 million Japanese citizens are immersed in the blissful illusion of buying up half of America, Tokyo land prices never falling, and the economy forever prosperous.

But at the height of this nationwide celebration, Kitahara Iwa submitted this heavy, complete manuscript—so thick that one could almost smell the musty odor of the sewers and the dried bloodstains through the pages—to Shinchosha.

As a senior editor at Shinchosha, Sato canceled all his evening engagements and locked himself in his office on the day he received the manuscript.

At first, he simply opened the title page with the mindset of examining a new work.

But after reading only the first three chapters, my body, which was originally relaxed and leaning back in the chair, stiffened.

He leaned forward involuntarily, his fingers turning the pages faster and faster, but his breathing became heavier and heavier.

Outside the window, Tokyo in 1989 shone with dazzling neon lights, and even the air was filled with the scent of expensive perfumes and banknotes.

But Editor-in-Chief Sato's gaze was fixed on that suffocating passage in the manuscript:

"In this bustling metropolis where it seems like you can make money just by breathing, Yoko Suzuki died quietly in that cramped and dark rented room."

"Eleven starving wildcats feasted on her rotting body as their final meal."

"It wasn't until the blackened bodily fluids seeped into the tatami mats and dripped downstairs that this city, engrossed in ecstasy, barely spared her a second of nausea."

Looking at the first few lines of text, Editor-in-Chief Sato felt his stomach tighten.

He tried to stop, light a cigarette, and catch his breath, but the chilling realism in the text was like an icy hand gripping his eyes, making it impossible for him to stop reading.

He didn't sleep a wink all night.

The ashtray gradually filled with a small mountain of cigarette butts.

The strong smell of tobacco did not calm him down; instead, it made the chill in his heart grow stronger.

He sat there stiffly under the lamp, watching helplessly as that ordinary woman named Yoko was drained of her lifeblood by her family of origin, became prey for a ruthless corporation, and was completely transformed into a monster who made a living by murdering for insurance money in the mire of despair.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the darkness and illuminated the smoke-filled office, Editor-in-Chief Sato finally turned the last page of the manuscript.

He collapsed onto the leather seat, utterly exhausted, as if he had just experienced an extremely long and almost suffocating drowning.

The outside world was still advancing triumphantly, but his mind had been completely swallowed up by the abyss of despair in this novel.

A few hours later.

With dark circles under his eyes and an unshaven beard, Editor-in-Chief Sato, filled with a mix of shock and trepidation at the prospect of meeting a genius writer, invited Kitahara Iwao to his office, which still reeked of cigarette smoke.

"Teacher Kitahara, this is absolutely a masterpiece."

Looking at Kitahara Iwa in front of him, Editor-in-Chief Sato placed his hands on the thick manuscript and then lavished praise upon it: "Whether it is the extreme portrayal of the psychology of women surviving in the cracks of society, or the suspenseful trick at the end, it has reached a level of consummate skill."

"This dissection of human nature is absolutely horrifying!"

But then, as he changed the subject, this seasoned veteran of the publishing industry, a deep sense of unease appeared on his face.

Editor-in-Chief Sato turned his head, pointed to the dazzlingly bustling Tokyo street scene outside the floor-to-ceiling window, and said with a tone full of apprehension about the market, "But... isn't the setting of this work too detached from reality?"

"The middle class goes bankrupt overnight, women become prey for unscrupulous real estate agents in their struggle for survival, some even die alone in extreme poverty, their bodies eventually devoured by stray cats..."

At this point, Editor-in-Chief Sato swallowed hard and said with difficulty, "Teacher Kitahara, this is the most prosperous era for Japan!"

"Readers are enjoying high-end Wagyu beef and making huge profits in stocks. If you show them this kind of description at this time, they will find it absurd and even offensive."

"Look... for the sake of realism, would you like to revise the background setting regarding the economic collapse?"

"After all, this part of the setting is essentially adding a fatal flaw to 'The Scream'!"

Faced with Editor-in-Chief Sato's extremely realistic business concerns, Kitahara Iwao did not rush to refute them, but listened calmly, and then gently put down his teacup.

"There's no need to change it, Editor-in-Chief Sato."

Kitahara Iwa turned his head to the side, his gaze passing through the floor-to-ceiling window to the dazzling cityscape at night.

Under these lights, the whole of Tokyo seemed to be engulfed in a tireless revelry.

"Modern readers find these descriptions absurd because everyone is too happy, so happy that they believe that the truth of the world is that land prices will always rise and tomorrow will be better."

At this point, Kitahara Iwa turned his gaze back to Sato, who looked slightly flustered, and stated his point of view in a calm tone: "But these good days won't last forever."

"Once they wake up from this grand dream, they will naturally discover that what is written in the book is not some absurd drama, but naked reality."

At this point, Kitahara Iwa smiled, his eyes clear, and said, "Let time decide. It will convince everyone for me."

Before Editor-in-Chief Sato could try to persuade him from the perspective of market acceptance, Kitahara Iwa leaned forward slightly and cut straight back to the core professional area, saying, "Editor-in-Chief Sato, let's put aside these debates about the background setting for now."

"Judging solely from the work's literary quality, narrative tricks, and depth of exploration of human nature, do you think it has the strength to compete for the Naoki Prize?"

This pointed rhetorical question caused Editor-in-Chief Sato, who was still weighing the commercial pros and cons, to pause for a moment. He then lowered his gaze and looked at the heavy manuscript on the table.

At this moment, the oppressive and shocking feeling of being enveloped by layers of despair in the words while I was reading late into the night last night resurfaced clearly in my mind.

As the editor-in-chief of Shinchosha, he was all too aware of the weight that such extremely realistic works, which directly exposed the ills of society and human nature, carried in the literary world.

After a brief silence, the professional judgment of a top editor ultimately prevailed over concerns about the current false prosperity of the market.

Editor-in-Chief Sato raised his head, his expression becoming extremely solemn and resolute, and said, "As long as the judges of the Naoki Prize still value the ability of literature to dissect reality... Kitahara-sensei, based solely on the depth of thought and the completeness of the narrative, this work absolutely deserves to stand on the Naoki Prize podium."

As soon as he finished speaking, Editor-in-Chief Sato immediately made the decision: "In that case, our Shinchosha will publish this work!"

As the editor-in-chief who held the power of life and death over publishing, he completely abandoned his pandering to the false prosperity of the market and made an extremely decisive decision at this moment.

Seeing Kitahara Iwa's approval, a glint of shrewdness, typical of a top publisher, flashed in Sato's bloodshot eyes.

At the same time, driven by his instinct to avoid risks and maximize profits, he immediately put forward an extremely shrewd publishing strategy: "However, Professor Kitahara, since the main text is not changed at all, and considering that this subject matter is highly controversial in today's society, as the editor-in-chief, I strongly suggest adopting a model of publishing a book alongside the magazine."

"We will first serialize it in Shinchosha's top literary magazine, 'Shosetsu Shincho,' and then compile it into a single volume."

Sato's mind raced, quickly analyzing the pros and cons of this strategy: "First, we can use the magazine's length to test readers' acceptance, taking a steady and methodical approach."

"Secondly, the royalties from the serialization period, plus the royalties from subsequent standalone books, will make your income more substantial and stable; thirdly..."

He paused, his gaze becoming extremely aggressive, and said, "This is also the most important point—controversy is the best form of publicity in this era!"

"During the serialization, readers who are immersed in the prosperity will definitely call to criticize you for being alarmist and having a dark mentality, but this will only continue to generate extremely high exposure for you and your work."

"By the time the collected volumes are officially released, we will already have an extremely large base of topics and sales volume."

Upon hearing these words, Kitahara Iwa's eyes flashed with admiration.

Editor-in-Chief Sato truly lives up to his reputation as Shinchosha's ace editor-in-chief; this old fox's calculations are extremely precise.

More importantly, Kitahara Iwa knew very well that if the serialization schedule of "Shosetsu Shincho" continued, the completion of the screaming novel and the release of the single volume would be perfectly timed to coincide with the despairing moment of the following year (early 1990), when Japan's bubble economy began to burst and the Great Depression officially began.

In time, cold reality will naturally complete the final cycle for this novel.

Kitahara Iwa nodded slightly, approving of Editor-in-Chief Sato's serialization plan, and said, "Editor-in-Chief Sato, I'll leave all the details of the serialization to you."

Kitahara Iwa then noticed that Editor-in-Chief Sato's eyes were bloodshot, and the ashtray on his desk was already overflowing.

Facing the seasoned editor who had stayed up all night working on his manuscript, Kitahara Iwao said with a touch of pure professional respect, "Thank you for your hard work reading the manuscript all night, Editor-in-Chief Sato."

"Go back and get some sleep. After all, you'll have to handle the public pressure before the release of the collected volumes."