Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 39 Akasaka's Lipstick

In March 1987, spring arrived early in Tokyo, bringing with it a restless warmth.

At the crossroads of Akasaka-mitsuke, the cherry blossoms were still just shy buds on the branches, but that did not stop the streets from being filled with a pink atmosphere.

However, the scent didn't come from the flowers, but from a building.

The midday sun poured down without any obstruction, shattering against the exterior wall of the seven-story building. It wasn't ordinary paint, nor cheap glass, but tens of thousands of specially made pink ceramic tiles fired at high temperatures.

They resemble giant fish scales, tightly wrapping around the building's skeleton. The glaze on each terracotta panel displays a subtle gradient, transitioning from a deep rose red at the bottom to cherry blossom pink at the top. Under the refraction of sunlight, the entire building seems alive, exuding an almost bewitching luster, like a melting strawberry mousse, or a piece of lipstick just unscrewed.

It stands out starkly amidst the gray, serious, bureaucratic concrete blocks of Akasaka.

It's blinding.

Extremely bright and glaring.

"It's a disaster."

On the outdoor seating area of ​​a corner café, Ando clutched a recent copy of the magazine "Architectural Trends." The cover featured a close-up photograph of the building, with a striking headline:

The Fall of Akasaka: When Architecture Becomes a Giant Kitsch Monster

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, the smell of tobacco filling his lungs and making him cough twice.

As the designer of this building, he has mixed feelings right now.

It's like your own daughter, whom you raised with your own hands, being sent to be the top hostess at a nightclub, and... she's incredibly famous.

Ando looked up and gazed across the street through his sunglasses.

There, an absurd drama is unfolding that leaves all architectural critics speechless.

It was a weekday afternoon, and it wasn't even time to leave work yet, but a long, winding queue had already formed in front of the archway designed in the shape of lips.

All of them were women.

They wore boldly tailored padded-shoulder suits or miniskirts that had just come from Paris. Their makeup was exquisite, they wore seven-centimeter high heels, and carried newly purchased LV or Gucci handbags.

They are waiting.

To get into this building for a cup of afternoon tea that reportedly costs 15,000 yen, or to snag a limited-edition hair clip at the boutique on the top floor.

The group occasionally burst into cheerful laughter, laughter devoid of the burdens of life, filled only with a sense of extravagant pleasure.

"Hey, did you hear? The bathroom inside is bigger than my living room."

"Really? I'd like to go and see for myself. I heard they use Bulgarian rose essential oil in their aromatherapy."

"Even if I don't buy anything, just touching up my makeup inside makes me feel like a movie star."

Two young office ladies walked past Ando, ​​excitedly exchanging information.

Ando stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, stuffed the magazine that criticized him into his trench coat pocket, and stood up.

The green light is on.

He mingled among the group of women wearing expensive perfume, crossed the street, and walked toward the "monster" he had drawn himself.

The automatic sensor door opens silently.

It wasn't the usual "ding-dong" sound, but rather a pleasant sound of wind chimes.

A warm breeze blew in.

The scent was unique. It wasn't the murky smell of leather and sweat you get in shopping malls, but a pure, sweet aroma. It was like vanilla, or a freshly cut peach, with a subtle hint of ginger.

This is the "Akasaka Flavor" specially created by a perfumer at Satsuki's request.

There is no lobby or service desk on the first floor.

What comes into view is a huge, spiraling atrium.

The floor was covered with a white, long-haired carpet that felt soft and yielding underfoot, making one's steps slow down and feel lighter.

In the very center stood a three-meter-high crystal fountain. But instead of water, it sprayed out pink champagne.

Although it was a visual effect created by the circulating pump, under the light, the churning liquid looked like flowing pink diamonds.

"Sir, do you have an appointment?"

A waiter dressed in a tuxedo, with a handsome face like a male lead in an idol drama, walked over. His smile was perfect, his voice gentle, and his eyes held just the right amount of respect.

Even the waiters in this building are carefully selected "viewers".

"I am Ando."

Ando pulled down his sunglasses and pointed to his face.

"Oh, it's Ms. Ando." The waiter didn't show the slightest disdain for Ando's wrinkled trench coat; instead, he bowed slightly. "Miss is waiting for you on the top floor. Please take the private elevator."

Ando put his sunglasses back on and looked at the waiter.

"No, I'll just take the regular elevator..."

......

The elevator is made entirely of glass.

As the elevator slowly ascended, Ando watched the scenery flash by on each floor.

The second floor houses a boutique. Instead of towering shelves, clothes hang like works of art on brass racks, each garment spaced half a meter apart. Hidden spotlights illuminate the items with different shades of light, making each piece look incredibly expensive.

Third floor...

The elevator doors stopped briefly on the third floor.

Several women who had just finished touching up their makeup were about to walk in, their faces radiating confidence, as if they had just been recharged.

"That mirror was amazing; it made my pores invisible."

"You absolutely have to bring Yumi here at least once. She just broke up with her boyfriend recently and really needs to feel pampered like this."

"Yeah yeah..."

Then they saw Ando, ​​who was wearing a wrinkled trench coat, and immediately fell silent.

"I think I need to touch up my makeup here..."

"Me too, me too."

Before even stepping into the elevator, they turned around and walked away, their steps becoming more hurried.

The elevator doors closed and continued upwards.

The women's voices could still be heard through the crack in the door, "What... what's a grown man doing here? Don't you go to work during the day?"

Ando had anticipated this situation when he chose to take the regular elevator.

However, he didn't care; his main purpose was to observe.

He remembered the design drawings for the third floor.

There were no shops there; the entire floor was designed as a "lounge." Or to put it more bluntly—a super luxurious restroom.

There are a hundred makeup stations with professional lighting, a bar that serves champagne, and even velvet chaise lounges where you can lie down and relax.

In Akasaka, where land is incredibly valuable, an entire floor was dedicated to toilets.

When Ando was drawing the illustrations, he thought Satsuki had gone mad.

But now, looking at the satisfied expressions on those women's faces, he realized that the world might be the one going mad.

Top floor.

The elevator doors opened.

The whooshing sound of the wind on the terrace instantly rushed into the elevator.

Satsuki was leaning on the balcony railing, holding a telescope, looking down at the crowd below.

Today she was wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a red plaid skirt, looking like a middle school student who had skipped school to play.

But at her feet lay a thick stack of financial statements.

"You're here?"

Satsuki didn't turn around; she was still holding up her binoculars.

"Look below. Doesn't it look like ants moving house?"

Ando walked up to her, but didn't say anything. He simply took the magazine out of his pocket and threw it on the table.

"Look at this. Critics call me a 'pimp of architecture,' and say this building is a 'garbage can of desire.'"

"That was a pretty nice insult."

Satsuki put down her binoculars and glanced at the cover of the magazine.

"This shows they're panicking. Those old men are clinging to their Le Corbusier and Bauhaus, thinking that architecture is just a pile of cement and steel bars, and that functionality is everything."

She turned around, leaning against the railing, the sunlight shining on her hair, creating a golden halo.

"Mr. Ando, ​​do you know what 'consumption' is?"

"Spend money to buy things?" Ando shrugged.

"No."

Satsuki stretched out a finger and gently shook it in the air.

"Consumption is a process of 'affirming oneself'."

"Do those women queuing down there lack clothes? No. Do they lack bags? No. What they lack is a feeling."

"A feeling of 'I am the protagonist'."

She pointed to the ground beneath her feet.

"At the company, they are office ladies who pour tea, supporting characters who are ordered around by their male bosses. At home, they are daughters or wives who need to cook and do laundry."

"But here."

"In this pink building, they are queens."

"They walked on carpets softer than a lawn, used makeup mirrors only Hollywood stars would use, and were served tenderly by handsome men. Even for a cup of coffee, we sprinkled gold leaf on it."

"At that moment, they felt they deserved the best of everything in the world."

Satsuki smiled.

"They're willing to empty their wallets for this feeling. A 15,000 yen afternoon tea? No, that's too cheap. That's their ticket to 'dignity'."

As Ando listened, he felt a chill run down his spine.

He looked at this thirteen-year-old girl as if she were a thousand-year-old fairy.

She doesn't sell products.

She sells dreams. A fleeting, addictive dream wrapped in pink.

"But..." Ando pointed to the magazine, "this building is really ugly. From an architectural point of view."

"Is it ugly?"

Satsuki turned around and picked up the binoculars again.

"I think it's beautiful. It's the only bright spot in this gray city."

"It's like lipstick smeared on the dead face of Akasaka."

"If it's not jarring, not eye-catching, not 'kitsch,' who would notice it?"

She pulled one of the reports from the stack at her feet and handed it to Ando.

"Take a look at this."

Ando took the report.

That's today's real-time sales data. Up to 3 PM.

Sales: 48,536,000 yen (no specific figure is provided because there are no items below 1000 yen here).

Ando's hand trembled slightly.

Forty-eight million. Half a day.

It's worth noting that this building only has seven floors, and most of its area is used for public spaces and landscaping.

"This is just the revenue," Satsuki said calmly. "After deducting costs, the gross profit is over 80%."

"Because what we're selling is essentially air. A premium for services, a premium for the environment, a premium for emotions."

She pointed to the gray office building in the distance.

"That building is twice as tall as ours, and it's crammed full of hardworking men. But its monthly rent is probably less than what we make selling cakes for three days."

"This is 1987."

Satsuki turned her head and looked at Ando with clear eyes.

"Mr. Ando, ​​ignore those critics. They're just jealous."

"They're jealous that you understand women, jealous that you understand this era, and jealous that you've created this money-printing machine."

Ando looked at the report and then at the magazine cover.

Suddenly, he found the magazine ridiculous.

"A money printing machine..."

Ando muttered to himself.

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

This time, he took a deep breath, but didn't cough.

"Young Miss".

Ando exhaled a smoke ring, which dissipated in the sunlight.

"How long can you have this kind of dream?"

"As long as people continue to revel, the dream will never end."

Satsuki looked at the Tokyo Tower in the distance.

"And this is just the beginning."

"The Pink Mansion is just an appetizer for the women. Next, we'll prepare the main course for the richer, more greedy men."

"A proper meal?"

"Is the renovation in Azabu-Juban almost finished?"

Gao Yue asked.

"Yes. The hard furnishings are all finished. That underground wine cellar..." Ando paused, "...as per your request, the constant temperature and humidity system uses the standards for nuclear bunker construction."

"very good."

Satsuki nodded.

"Keep this report safe. It's our 'report card' for the bank."

"With this report card, we can finally negotiate a better price with the Seibu Group for that 'garbage dump' in Meguro Ward."

She dusted off her hands and headed towards the elevator.

"Come on, Mr. Ando. I'll take you to get a cup of that coffee sprinkled with gold leaf."

"Try it and see what this kind of 'dignity' tastes like."

Ando watched her retreating figure.

The little girl in the plaid skirt walked like a king surveying his territory.

He glanced downstairs.

The long pink dragon continued to writhe, with more and more women joining it, their faces beaming with happy anticipation, completely unaware that they were walking into a carefully designed sweet trap... or rather, they were willingly falling into the trap.

Ando gave a wry smile and followed.

"The taste of dignity...?"

He threw the cigarette butt into the trash can.

"It's probably cloyingly sweet."

The elevator doors closed.

This pink giant tower continues to exude its deadly hormones in the spring breeze of Akasaka.