Chapter 104 Kitahara Nian!

"Um."

Kitahara Iwao draped his coat over his shoulders as he replied, "Once the news is released, every exit of this hotel, as well as the area downstairs from my apartment, will be swarmed by reporters from all over Japan within half an hour."

"I have to get out of here before that hellish drawing happens."

Kenichi Sato's lips moved, as if he wanted to persuade Kitahara Iwa to stay and enjoy the cheers, but his remaining rationality told him that Kitahara-sensei's judgment was extremely accurate.

He finally took a deep breath, took out a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, and said, "I understand."

Kenichi Sato stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and bowed deeply towards Kitahara Iwao, saying, "I'll handle all the media and follow-up engagements here! Mr. Kitahara, please go ahead."

Kitahara Iwa nodded slightly to Editor-in-Chief Sato, glanced at Takahashi who was holding an empty wine glass and waving from afar, then reached out and opened the wooden door, stepping aside to walk out.

boom.

With the dull thud of the wooden door closing, the almost roof-lifting noise and frenzy inside the private room was instantly shut out into another world.

The corridor was quiet, and the warm yellow wall lamps cast a soft shadow on the deep red carpet.

Kitahara Iwa walked straight to the end of the corridor and pressed the button for the private elevator that led directly to the underground parking garage.

"bite."

The silver-gray elevator doors slid silently to both sides and then slowly closed.

On the eve of the storm that was destined to completely overturn the entire Japanese literary world, Kitahara Iwa, who was at the center of the storm, quietly disappeared into the cool night of Tokyo.

Almost at the same time.

Tokyo Hall.

The grand banquet hall on the first floor was converted into a temporary press conference hall.

The more than two hundred seats were completely full, and all the attendees were senior journalists from major newspapers, television stations, and news agencies.

The red indicator lights of the cameras twinkled in the dimly lit hall, and the sound of camera shutters echoed incessantly.

The projection screen above the stage was not yet lit up, but everyone's eyes were fixed on the long table covered with a white tablecloth on the stage.

There was a very unusual sense of tension in the air tonight.

Because everyone present knew that this year's selection results were likely to be unusual.

8:15 PM.

The press conference hall was packed with over two hundred reporters. But before it officially began, the whispers from below were louder than ever before.

"Hey, look at the nameplate on the table..."

A veteran reporter stared intently at the podium, his voice trembling uncontrollably with extreme excitement.

"I saw it... The judges for the Akutagawa Prize and the Naoki Prize have been arranged to sit at the same long table for the first time ever!"

The colleague next to him swallowed hard, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot from his spine to the back of his head, and said, "This used to be announced strictly in two separate halls!"

The two suddenly locked eyes, and in the depths of each other's suddenly constricted pupils, they saw the crazy speculation that was enough to shake up the entire Japanese literary world.

"Could it be... that rumor that's been circulating the most..."

"Winning two awards at once?! Are those rigid old fogies on the judging panel really going to award both the Akutagawa Prize and the Naoki Prize to Kitahara Iwao this time?"

Before they could fully process this shocking speculation, the side door of the press conference room was pushed open forcefully.

The chairman of the Akutagawa Prize jury and the representative of the Naoki Prize jury walked in side by side under the watchful eyes of more than two hundred pairs of eyes that seemed to want to devour them, and then took their seats in turn behind the long table.

The next second, the flashes exploded, turning the area into a vast white sea of ​​light.

At this moment, the first person to stand up and walk towards the central microphone was the chairman of the Akutagawa Prize jury.

The elderly man, with his gray hair and impeccably buttoned suit, opened the folder in front of him, looked up, and glanced at the sea of ​​reporters below the stage.

"The results of the 103rd Ryunosuke Akutagawa Prize are now being announced."

The hall fell silent instantly, and even the sound of camera shutters became much less frequent.

"After deliberation by all members of the jury, the Akutagawa Prize is awarded to Mr. Kitahara Iwao for his work 'Love Letter'."

As soon as the words were spoken, an uncontrollable commotion broke out in the hall.

Although they had a premonition, when Kitahara Iwa actually won the highest literary award, the reporters still couldn't hide their excitement and frantically took notes in their notebooks.

However, the unrest did not have time to spread.

Logically, after the Akutagawa Prize was announced, the chairman should have taken questions.

To everyone's surprise, the old man simply closed the folder and took a step back.

Immediately afterwards, the Naoki Prize judge representative sitting next to him stood up without hesitation and grabbed the microphone.

The commotion that had just begun to rise was instantly extinguished by an invisible hand.

More than two hundred people held their breath and stared intently at the stage.

The Naoki Prize representative took a deep breath, opened the list in his hand, and his voice echoed clearly in the deathly silent hall: "Next, we will announce the results of the 103rd Naoki 35th Prize selection."

"After deliberation by all members of the judging panel, the Naoki Prize is awarded to Mr. Kitahara Iwao for his work 'The Scream'!"

The sound of the last word echoed in the hall.

At this moment, more than two hundred reporters, more than two hundred cameras, and the flashes that had been flashing like stars all came to an extremely strange halt.

This brief silence was not a deliberate act of holding one's breath.

Rather, it was the instinctive astonishment and speechlessness that erupted when a miracle that originally existed only in fervent rumors and was considered by the entire literary world to be "absolutely impossible" was casually dropped in front of everyone.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

This suffocating silence lasted for a full ten seconds.

Then, it was as if some extremely powerful explosive in the hall had been completely detonated!

"Is this the first time in Japanese literary history that the same person has won two awards simultaneously?!"

"Has Mr. Kitahara Iwao himself been informed of this result?!"

Was the vote within the judging panel unanimous? Were any judges opposed to this decision?!

Questions, camera shutters, and the scraping sound of chairs being pushed aside all converged at the same moment into an almost physical sound wave that violently pounded against every wall of the press conference hall.

The reporters in the front row almost had half their bodies over the cordon, desperately stretching their recording pens and microphones forward.

The most perceptive reporters in the back row didn't even bother asking questions. They turned around like madmen, sprinted through the double doors of the hall, and ran towards the coin-operated public telephones outside the corridor!

"Hold the phone! Call headquarters now! Front page! Tomorrow's front page will feature Kitahara Iwa winning two awards, just like we wrote about before!!!"

The scene descended into a frenzied riot.

However, amidst this uproarious chaos that seemed to threaten to lift the roof off, the chairman of the judging panel remained seated serenely behind the long table.

He raised his withered hand and pressed it down.

The aura of the highest arbiter in the Japanese literary world caused the almost frenzied shouts in the front row to pause briefly.

During this brief pause, the elderly man leaned closer to the microphone and, in a calm and unhurried manner, added: "Regarding the question that you are all most concerned about right now, on behalf of the Japan Literature Promotion Association, I hereby formally confirm..."

"This is indeed the first time in more than half a century since the Akutagawa Prize and the Naoki Prize were established that the same author has won both major awards in the same competition."

"This is unprecedented in the history of Japanese literature. It is also the highest respect that the two judging committees have expressed to pure talent after extremely careful deliberation."

The moment those words landed.

The sound that erupted in the hall was ten times more intense than before, completely overwhelming all reason!

The news that Kitahara Iwa had won two awards spread faster than anyone had expected.

Before the press conference had even ended, NHK had already inserted an emergency news flash into its evening news.

All the special edition editorial departments of major newspapers entered a state of wartime, and the printing presses roared to life in the dead of night.

The spread on the social level was even more uncontrollable. As soon as the reporters who attended the press conference left the Tokyo Hall, they began to dictate their articles to their respective editorial departments using public telephones.

In less than half an hour, the news had spread throughout Tokyo.

In less than three hours, the news had spread throughout Japan.

Within forty minutes of the announcement, the apartment building where Kitahara Iwa lived was completely surrounded.

Five television broadcast vans were crammed haphazardly on both sides of the road, and hundreds of reporters and photographers blocked the entrance to the apartment lobby.

The white beam of the flashlight shone through the glass door, casting a wildly flashing pattern of light and shadow on the floor and walls, turning the winter night into day.

Microphones, telephoto lenses, recording equipment—everything that could be used to capture information was pointed at the apartment door.

Several daring photojournalists even attempted to climb over the low fence on the side of the apartment building, but were stopped by the building's security guards.

But everyone came up empty-handed.

There was no one in the apartment.

Because Kitahara Iwa had already left before the news was announced.

At this moment, Kitahara Iwa is in a highly private penthouse duplex in Minato Ward, Tokyo's most expensive area.

This top-tier residence, overlooking the entire Tokyo Bay, was rented by Kitahara Iwao over the past few days.

In the spare time he spent writing "Love Letter" and "Scream" over the past six months, Kitahara Iwao bought several short positions in the Nikkei futures index.

Now, with the complete collapse of Japan's bubble economy, those actions have turned into an astronomical figure that could instantly drive anyone mad, lying quietly in his private account.

This enormous sum of money is more than enough to pay the exorbitant rent for this penthouse apartment, or even to buy the entire building.

But he didn't do that.

As someone who understands the future better than anyone else, Kitahara Iwa possesses absolute calm patience.

He knew that the Tokyo real estate market was only just beginning to plummet, and the myth that Tokyo land prices could buy up America was still a long and painful process of decline ahead.

Wait a few years, until the real estate in this area has completely plummeted, that will be the best time to buy up properties.

The next morning.

At 7:00 a.m. sharp, in every convenience store on every street corner and newsstand in every subway station in the city, mountains of morning newspapers were being snapped up by passersby at an alarming rate.

Whether it's a serious national newspaper or a sports tabloid that usually only cares about female celebrity gossip and professional baseball leagues, they all surprisingly united today.

They removed the previously formatted news about the economic recession and political scandals overnight, even breaking decades-old layout rules, and bombarded the same name with the largest bold black font or even shocking bright red font.

The Yomiuri Shimbun's front page was solemn and awe-inspiring, occupying an entire half-page: "For the first time in history! Kitahara Iwao wins both the Akutagawa Prize and the Naoki Prize!"

The Asahi Shimbun's culture section offered a highly prestigious historical assessment: "An unprecedented upheaval in the Japanese literary world! One person straddles the insurmountable peaks of both fine and popular literature!"

Meanwhile, the evening newspapers and gossip weekly magazines, always eager to stir up trouble, ran headlines that were even more visually striking, practically overflowing the page: "Genius? Monster! That man named Kitahara Iwao has taken over the entire Japanese literary world overnight!"

"Two divine works descend! 'Love Letter' and 'Scream' set the printing presses on fire overnight! Bookstores across Tokyo are completely sold out!"

"1990 was the year of Kitahara!"

Office workers who are usually in a hurry and indifferent to literature stopped in their tracks and stood in the cold wind, engrossed in reading their newspapers.

Even housewives carrying grocery baskets couldn't resist crowding in front of the newsstand, wanting to see what the young man being wildly worshipped by the entire Japanese media looked like.