At Salomon Brothers' main family residence.
Outside the positive-pressure laminar-flow sterile ward, the air was thick with the sharp scent of high-concentration disinfectant.
Inside the ward, separated by a wall, green waveforms traced across the ECG monitor, emitting a steady, low-frequency tick. A humidifier exhaled fine white mist, keeping the humidity constant.
Chief Private Doctor Takeda stood under the corridor's cool light.
He wore a neat white coat, his eyes scanning the freshly printed physiological monitoring reports.
Saionji Shuichi, dressed in a dark gray home kimono, stood with his arms crossed before the large viewing window.
"Family Head," Takeda said, closing the report folder and holding it to his chest.
"The Young Lady's vital signs have stabilized with IV fluids. Brain CT and MRI show no intracranial hemorrhage or space-occupying lesions. We've essentially ruled out organic damage."
Shuichi's gaze stayed fixed on the window.
On the hospital bed, Satsuki lay quietly. Her face was paper-white, a transparent oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. With each faint breath, a thin layer of mist formed on the inside of the mask.
"Reason," Shuichi said.
"Acute, severe physical overexertion, accompanied by transient cerebral ischemia," Takeda said, meeting Shuichi's profile.
"The Young Lady's persistent low-grade fever never fully broke, and her body's immune barrier and metabolic compensation were already at the physiological red line. In that state, her frontal lobe underwent extremely high-intensity neural activity."
"The sudden mental load caused a precipitous drop in blood oxygen and glucose to localized brain tissue."
Takeda paused.
"To prevent damage to the hypothalamic reticular activating system, the neural center triggered a protective inhibitory mechanism. In plain terms, it was a forced syncope caused by deep fatigue and insufficient blood supply."
Shuichi listened to the report.
Through the thick viewing glass, he looked at his daughter's sleeping face.
His arms remained crossed. But inside the wide cuffs of his dark gray kimono, his fingernails had already pierced his palms.
Looking at that pale face under the transparent mask.
It was all his fault… for not being able to share his daughter's burden.
The moment he learned of Satsuki's collapse, it felt like a piece of his heart had been hollowed out.
Would he lose Satsuki? No… please no. Yuriko was already gone. If Satsuki too…
The silver lining was that Satsuki was only comatose, with no life-threatening risk.
Even so, a suffocating pain exploded in his chest, making his breathing ragged. His jaw trembled violently, and his eyes turned crimson.
No… Satsuki has fallen, but the Saionji Family still needs me… I cannot fall too.
At least, he couldn't let what Satsuki cherished be taken away.
He forced that surging pain, on the verge of breaking, into the deepest corner of his heart.
He turned, his expression stern again.
"How long until she wakes?"
"We've administered a balanced electrolyte solution," Takeda said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "To prevent irreversible damage to brain neurons after hypoxia, the medical team decided to use small doses of propofol to maintain targeted sedation."
"The Young Lady needs at least seventy-two hours of deep sleep to significantly reduce cerebral oxygen consumption and let neural synapses complete slow self-repair. After waking, she'll need a long convalescence."
Takeda stepped forward, his gaze steady as he looked directly at the Family Head.
"Family Head. For the next half month, please ensure all data contact between the Young Lady and the outside world is cut off. Any intensity of business decision-making will trigger a secondary meltdown of cerebral blood supply."
Shuichi nodded slightly.
"Seal the medical area. Apart from you, no medical personnel are allowed to leave the third underground floor."
"Understood." Takeda bowed deeply.
Shuichi turned back, his eyes sweeping over his daughter on the bed one last time.
Everyone outside knew Satsuki was the Saionji Family's backbone. If news of her coma spread, the consequences would be unimaginable.
In the last moments before her coma, Satsuki had just launched a three-front campaign spanning Wall Street's options dark pools, the Middle Eastern geopolitical theater, and non-performing loans in Japanese domestic banks.
The war machine had shifted into full gear, and hundreds of billions in funds were moving through international fiber-optic cables.
And now, the only driver on this high-speed chariot who could see through the fog and turn the wheel at any time had closed her eyes.
Shuichi turned and walked steadily toward the elevator at the end of the corridor.
It was time for him to take the wheel.
…
Fourth underground floor, Core Strategy Room.
The large leather swivel chair that belonged to Satsuki sat empty at the head of the long table.
Managing Director Endo, Saionji Masato, Dojima Gen, and a red speakerphone connected to Frank were gathered around the rosewood table.
An hour ago, they had learned of Satsuki's coma and were ordered to the meeting room immediately.
Managing Director Endo rested his hands on the edge of the rosewood table, his gaze fixed on the red speakerphone.
"Frank," Endo said, his voice dry.
"Doctor Takeda gave the final diagnosis. The Young Lady isn't in life-threatening danger. But to protect her brain, she needs at least seventy-two hours of medically induced deep sleep."
"Meaning, for three days, no one can make decisions for us."
He stared at the blinking call indicator.
"Have you… started executing on your end?"
Frank's heavy exhale came through the speaker from across the ocean, accompanied by faint static.
He had just gathered his team and hadn't finished briefing them when this happened.
"Some have started. But… it can't be delayed long," Frank said, rubbing his cheek with a rustle coming through the line. "Per the Young Lady's last instructions before her coma, the window for option building and channel replacement is short. If we delay, the winds on Wall Street will shift."
Saionji Masato, on the other side of the long table, threw several freshly printed European and American market briefings onto the table.
"He's right. We can't delay too long, at least not until the Young Lady wakes. We have to proceed with the original plan," Masato said, frowning deeply. "But… the external situation could change at any moment."
He looked at Endo, speaking quickly.
"All our previous moves were based on the Young Lady's predictions."
"But if news from the Pentagon leaks early, or if the CFTC in Washington suddenly changes the rules for OTC transactions…"
Masato tapped the briefing twice with his finger.
"Without the Young Lady's 'radar' for macro trends, we can't make macro adjustments. For positions worth hundreds of billions, even a tiny deviation in external variables…"
A brief silence fell on the other end of the phone.
Two seconds later, Frank's voice came through the speaker.
"Mr. Masato. Triggering a compliance review, at most, means losing a bridging fee and option principal. We can still retreat."
"The truly fatal flaw right now is the last directive we're about to execute."
Endo's hands on the table stiffened.
Hours ago, when the Young Lady issued that overseas directive before collapsing, he had been standing beside her. He knew exactly what Frank meant.
"You mean… the crude oil market?" Endo's voice tightened.
"Yes," Frank said, gritting his teeth. "We're going to bypass Salomon Brothers and split the commission, giving it to Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley. That's equivalent to slapping the 'King of Wall Street' in the face at the poker table."
Endo's breathing grew heavy. He knew why the Young Lady wanted to do this, but with their backbone gone, he immediately understood the terrifying implications.
"If Boss were fine right now, with her suppression at the New York negotiating table… Gutfreund, no matter how angry, would have to weigh the costs and swallow it."
"But…"
"If that old fox smells blood these next few days. If he realizes the Saionji Family's 'brain' is down…"
The air in the strategy room seemed to vanish.
The Saionji Family was a textbook case of "strongman politics." In normal games, fear of Satsuki's precise judgment and ruthless retaliation suppressed external malice before it could form.
All stable cooperation and compromise were built on the suppression of that core node. But once that "strongman" was temporarily offline, even for a brief information vacuum, the pack of wolves could launch a siege.
Masato stopped wiping his glasses. Endo straightened, his eyes fixed on the empty leather swivel chair.
"The worst case is… Gutfreund tears off the facade."
"Then he'll use the market maker's clearing authority. He'll directly reverse and seize our three-hundred-billion-dollar notional Nikkei short positions parked in their dark pool."
Panic climbed up Endo's spine. A fine layer of cold sweat beaded on his forehead, reflecting the screen's light.
Dojima Gen stood solemnly with his arms crossed, nodding slowly. He didn't fully understand the financial details, but he felt the weight in the room.
The air pressure in the strategy room dropped to freezing.
For the first time without Satsuki, they realized how dangerous the Saionji Family was without her.
In an instant, it felt like the whole world was against them.
"Click."
The heavy blast door slid open.
Saionji Shuichi stepped into the strategy room.
He did not sit in Satsuki's empty chair. He stood firmly at the head of the rosewood table.
"Lord Family Head."
Everyone straightened immediately. On the speakerphone, Frank also quieted his breathing.
Fortunately, the Saionji Family was "dual-core." Shuichi was no figurehead. At least the family wouldn't be leaderless.
Shuichi's deep gaze swept over the cold sweat on Endo's forehead, then glanced at the crumpled market briefing in Masato's hand.
"It seems you've already deduced the worst outcome," Shuichi said, his low voice steady amid the server hum.
"Capital markets abhor uncertainty. Once Wall Street and Marunouchi detect a vacuum in our decision-making center, that information disadvantage will translate into a run and liquidation against all our positions."
Endo swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and bowed his head slightly.
"Therefore, the weaker we are at the bottom, the tougher our external stance must be," Shuichi said, resting his hands on the edge of the rosewood table and leaning forward slightly. "We must use a strong stance to block all external probing."
He turned his head, his gaze falling on Dojima Gen in the shadows.
"Dojima."
"Here," Dojima Gen stepped forward immediately.
"Cut off all non-essential physical communications from the main residence to the outside. Especially the medical area. You personally lead the guard detail. No one in or out except Doctor Takeda."
"Also, inform Public Relations. From now on, if any external Zaibatsu or Nagatacho politicians request meetings, regardless of status, return them as is."
"The unified external response is: the Young Lady has gone to her Karuizawa villa for summer retreat. During this period, she will not handle any general affairs. All visitors declined."
"Understood," Dojima Gen nodded firmly.
Shuichi withdrew his gaze and looked back at Endo and the red speakerphone.
"Frank. Endo."
"Here," Endo straightened. Frank's steady reply came from the phone.
"Satsuki gave you the plan before she collapsed, correct? Execute it."
"Whatever she instructed, implement it. There's no need to report details to me, and no unauthorized slowdowns or retreats."
Endo froze. His fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the table.
"Family Head… without the Young Lady to predict and correct in real time, pushing ahead strictly to the original plan… if our actions are too aggressive and anger Gutfreund, or corner domestic regulators…"
"Since Satsuki issued this directive before collapsing," Shuichi said, looking directly into Endo's eyes and cutting off his doubt, "it means she already factored external backlash and compliance risk into her model. We must trust her judgment."
"The highest decision-making body is on summer retreat in Karuizawa, while the frontline team methodically advances high-risk option unbundling and asset stripping."
"In commercial games, that itself is a highly deceptive posture. The more methodically you act, the more Gutfreund and Iwasaki Hiroya will suspect a deeper trap and hesitate to act rashly."
Shuichi straightened.
"Maintaining existing normalcy is our lowest-cost defense strategy to get through this three-day information vacuum."
Endo and Masato exchanged glances.
"I understand," Endo said, grabbing the encrypted contact list from the table. "I will personally oversee the domestic stripping. Frank, New York is yours."
"Understood."
Masato quickly gathered the market briefings under his wrist.
"I'm returning to the information center," Masato said, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses. "For these three days, all macro data anomaly warnings from the global market will be reported directly to the Family Head, bypassing normal procedures."
Shuichi nodded slightly.
"Go do your work."
"That child, Satsuki… thinks too much."
"It's time for us adults to share some of her burden."