Pure white.
This was the first color Satsuki perceived upon waking.
After a long, dissolving haze, her vision slowly pulled itself together.
Several blurred patches of white assembled bit by bit at the center of her sight, until they became a flat, textureless ceiling.
The light wasn't harsh. It had been set to a soft, warm tone.
Satsuki lay still.
Deep in her ears, a faint buzzing lingered, like an old CRT television with no signal.
That background noise was gradually replaced by another sound as consciousness returned.
"Beep—"
"Beep—"
Monotonous. Mechanical. Constant. It tapped against her eardrum again and again.
Her nasal passages caught a hint of cool air. It had none of the earth or vegetation of the outside world, so pure it was almost sweet. It flowed slowly down her dry airway, filling lungs that had shrunk from long dormancy.
On the back of her left hand, a sore pressure ached. Cool liquid was being pushed into her veins.
She tried to move the fingers of her right hand.
But her body felt like cooled lead had been poured into it. Her muscles had lost the tension to contract or relax. She felt impossibly heavy, sinking into the mattress, unable to twitch even a fingertip.
Is this… an aftereffect of deep sleep?
She had fainted after all.
The last image in her mind was the row of blinking server lights in the underground strategy room, and the black blotches that burst at the edges of her vision.
The dizziness had been violent, her body screaming warnings.
But at that moment, she felt…
Comfortable.
The plan was laid. No more thinking, right?
Just sleep.
That was how she'd felt then.
Even with trillions in capital and the nation's lifelines at stake, she hadn't felt a shred of worry.
Satsuki tried to move her eyes.
She could.
At the edges of her vision, several blurred white shapes flickered.
She wasn't that "pawn" from her past life who had to do everything herself, was she? Shuichi, Endo, Frank, and the others were all trustworthy.
Presumably… they handled it…
Fatigue rolled back through her veins with the cool IV. Her newly gathered consciousness was covered again by those comfortable black spots.
So tired.
No need to think anymore…
Then I'll sleep a little longer.
She let the last resistance go, her eyelids dropping as she sank back into that comfortable dark, guiltless.
…
An unknown amount of time passed.
Saionji Main Residence, third basement level.
Saionji Shuichi, in a dark gray custom suit, walked quickly across the anti-static carpet.
He had just seen Iwasaki from Mitsubishi off on the surface. He didn't know why these old fossils had been coming to his door one after another lately, wanting to acquire this or that. They usually weren't this active.
Did they know Satsuki was unconscious?
Shuichi shook his head. They had no proof. At most, suspicion.
Besides, five minutes ago, Dr. Takeda said Satsuki had woken up.
As long as Satsuki was awake, even if she couldn't manage affairs yet, it would be enough to keep everyone in line.
Shuichi reached the door of the sterile zone at the end of the corridor.
Dr. Takeda stood quietly by the medical-grade stainless steel airtight door, holding an electronic tablet with live data.
Hearing footsteps, Takeda turned and bowed slightly.
"Family Head."
Shuichi stopped. His eyes went past Takeda to the negative pressure indicator above the door.
"How is she?" Shuichi's voice was soft. "Can I go in now?"
"Please rest assured, the Young Lady's basic vitals are fully stable," Takeda said, lowering his voice. "The artificial hibernation drugs have metabolized completely. An hour ago, the Young Lady woke once and then returned to natural sleep. That means her brain is protecting and repairing itself normally. Blood oxygen and heart rate are excellent."
Takeda closed the tablet.
"You may visit. But the Young Lady is still extremely weak, so please keep it brief to avoid draining her energy."
Shuichi nodded slightly.
He stood before the door, took a deep breath, and extended his right hand, hovering it over the touchless infrared sensor.
"Hiss—"
With the faint sound of the airlock depressurizing, the heavy silver-gray metal door slid smoothly aside on silent rails.
The air inside was humid. Unlike Tokyo's sticky rainy season outside, this air was soft.
The hospital bed was raised to a thirty-degree angle.
Satsuki leaned halfway against the stacked pillows.
The overhead light, simulating natural spectrum, cast a soft glow across her profile.
She was so quiet.
That exquisite face was pale to the extreme, without the pressure she usually carried at the head of the rosewood table.
Her slender neck sank slightly into the white cotton pillow. On her wrist, resting on the quilt, blue veins showed clearly under thin skin.
Shuichi lightened his steps as he approached.
Looking at Satsuki in the large bed, he realized his daughter was actually so small.
He stopped at the bedside. His hands opened slightly at his sides.
The past seventy-two hours had been a long ordeal that almost broke his sanity.
Alone at night, standing outside this metal door in the basement, listening to the life-support machines, a helplessness washed over him like a tide.
The Saionji Family's territory was vast enough to shake the nation. He could move hundreds of billions with a word and decide the fate of a listed company at will.
Yet when his own daughter collapsed, that astronomical wealth couldn't make her wake a second sooner.
This absurd gap made a rare cowardice rise as he faced his awake daughter.
A strong impulse surged in his chest. He wanted to pull his fragile daughter into his arms.
But his eyes fell on Satsuki's pale skin and the medical tape on the back of her hand from the IV.
His open hands froze in mid-air.
He was afraid his rough palms or a larger movement would hurt her.
Satsuki now looked like fine porcelain fresh from the kiln; a touch might crack her.
He could only watch from a distance.
But… if he didn't hold her tight, would he lose her?
Looking at Satsuki's serene profile, that fear surged back like a tide.
But… this wouldn't do. If he, as her father, was weak, what if it worried Satsuki?
In the end, he forced all emotion deep down.
Shuichi pulled over a leather chair nearby. He sat quietly half a meter from the bed.
In the ward, the humidifier's mist was a fine, steady hiss.
Satsuki didn't turn her head to look at Shuichi immediately.
Her gaze rested quietly on a physical book on the quilt over her abdomen.
It was a thin paperback pocket edition.
A work by the Roman philosopher Seneca.
On the Shortness of Life.
Satsuki leaned against the soft pillow. She slowly raised her right hand.
Her pale fingertips, with a faint tremor, pressed the edge of a page. Her finger followed the paper's grain, smoothing it.
Her eyes lingered on a line of print on the yellowed page.
"'People always spend the vast majority of their lives…'"
Her voice was extremely light. With the slight hoarseness of someone recovering from illness, it dissolved into the quiet room.
She paused a long time. After a small swallow, she finished the sentence.
"'…consumed in endless preparation for the future.'"
After reading it, Satsuki pressed the edge of the book and closed it slowly.
She turned her head, her eyes meeting Shuichi's.
"Father…"
Shuichi looked at his daughter's eyes—gone was the usual sharpness, but they were exceptionally clear. He leaned forward slightly.
"Feeling better?" Shuichi's voice was very soft.
Satsuki looked at the bloodshot streaks in Shuichi's eyes and the slight disarray of his collar.
"I made you worry."
She set the closed book on the white quilt, hands folded over the cover.
The air in the room flowed quietly.
Neither father nor daughter spoke of work.
"Lying here these days, my mind went blank, and I actually found some extra time," Satsuki said, her voice light, her pace slower than usual.
"I realized there's always been an invisible stopwatch in my head."
She lowered her eyes slightly, looking at the pale back of her hand.
"Tick-tock. Tick-tock."
"Every tick is an upcoming historical milestone—a pile of chips I have to fight for in advance."
She raised her eyes, a hint of confusion in them.
"Because I know when the storms come. I know where the safe harbors are, and where the scattered gold lies."
"So I'm afraid. Afraid that if I walk a little slower, or close my eyes for a moment, those destined treasures will be taken by others. The Saionji Family would, one day, fall into an abyss with no return."
She recalled her state of mind these past years.
"I've pushed myself too hard. Like a hungry ghost picking up gold coins on a beach."
"I greedily felt that 'all those things belong to me.'"
A small, self-mocking curve touched Satsuki's mouth.
"Terrified the tide would wash away the remaining coins, I poured all my energy, time, even sleep into that bottomless pit. I always felt that as long as I earned enough and prepared enough, the Saionji Family would be absolutely safe in the coming storms."
She took a deep breath.
"Deep down… I've always been driven by an extreme 'hunger.'"
"For five years, I haven't dared to get sick, haven't dared to rest, haven't even dared to spend a single minute truly looking at the cherry blossoms in the courtyard."
Satsuki turned her head, meeting Shuichi's eyes again.
"But… what if this shell completely breaks before the harvest comes?"
"The numbers in the accounts. The power in Kasumigaseki. The territory across the country."
Satsuki looked at Shuichi.
"If the person is gone, what meaning do those things have?"
Shuichi listened quietly.
His fingers tightened unconsciously on his knees.
Hearing his daughter describe the 'invisible stopwatch' in her mind, his breath caught.
For five years, he had marveled at his daughter's godlike foresight. He had grown used to her planning the perfect routes, while he only needed to stamp the family seal and execute.
He had been immersed in the euphoria of the family's rapid expansion, trampling major Zaibatsu underfoot. He enjoyed the reverent looks from outside.
Yet he had completely ignored that this precision business machine ran by draining all the energy, sleep, and life force of a young girl.
She forced herself to pick up every single gold coin, turning herself into an emotionless gear, because she subconsciously lacked an absolute sense of security.
Satsuki… was afraid.
She was afraid of something.
And he couldn't give her that security.
That stability during a storm should have come from him, her father.
But he had blindly demanded her wisdom, letting her dance on a cliff's edge day and night.
This can't go on.
The Saionji Family definitely does not need a money-printing machine that could break at any moment.
What he, Shuichi, needs is a daughter who can live well.
He must personally lift this heavy yoke off her.
"Satsuki," Shuichi said, his tone steady.
"Capital accumulation does require reckless hunger in the early stages. You've done well—far better than any previous head of the Saionji Family."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze on that yellowed copy of On the Shortness of Life.
"People think accumulating vast numbers guards against future risks, but they overlook the time that slips away on the journey."
"When wealth crosses the threshold of survival and reaches a volume that can influence a nation's direction, it's no longer a whip driving you to run day and night."
"Its true use is to grant the owner a privilege."
Shuichi looked into her eyes, his gaze gentle.
"The privilege to stop at any time and sit peacefully in a courtyard listening to the rain."
"The Saionji Family's foundation is strong enough to support you spending your time with a clear conscience. The gold coins on the beach can never be collected completely. Even if a few are missed, the Saionji Family remains an unshakable, towering tree."
"You no longer need to race that stopwatch in your mind. Satsuki, you have the right to walk slowly in this world."
The room fell completely silent.
The humidifier exhaled fine white mist; the vapor rolled and dissipated under the light.
Satsuki looked at her father.
Actually, she understood everything Shuichi said.
From the moment she first shorted the US dollar, the Saionji Family already had enough capital for her to live a lifetime.
Rationally, she had known for a long time. But psychologically, she could never cross that hurdle.
Her past life had trained her to seize every bit of available profit.
But in this life, the opportunities she could seize were too many.
The Plaza Accord exchange rate dividends, Black Monday option leverage, the Ministry of Finance's policy loopholes, even geopolitical conflicts yet to erupt.
Every timeline, every historical milestone down to the day, was clearly marked in her mind. Because she knew what would happen, those astronomical figures along the track of time became bright, shining mountains of gold.
This kept a string pulled tight in her subconscious.
She was afraid that if she walked slowly, or closed her eyes for a moment, those destined dividends would be taken by others.
She forced herself to confirm the mesh of every gear and audit every international fund flow. She had pushed this mortal body, which could get sick and tired, into a CPU running twenty-four-seven.
In her subconscious, she couldn't forgive herself for wanting to stop and breathe.
Until now.
With Shuichi's words, that morbid anxiety that had lived deep in her soul and forced her to run day and night made a faint cracking sound.
The nerves that had been taut for five years finally relaxed completely in her heart.
She finally truly accepted this mortal shell that could tire, could collapse, and had physical limits.
To control capital, she didn't need to personally carry every gold brick onto the field.
After letting go of that invisible stopwatch, her thinking jumped to a clear, new dimension.
That hunger deep in her bones didn't vanish. It shed the anxiety of frantically grabbing on the beach and became a deeper, more patient desire for control.
She turned her head slightly, leaning her cheek against the soft cotton pillow.
Her gaze went past the bed toward the large electronic display window on the wall that simulated natural daylight.
Inside the window, the azure sky was cloudless. A few simulated white clouds drifted slowly east.
"Father," Satsuki said, her eyes on the blue horizon.
"Then… after I'm discharged, let's get a burger first."
"…Why a burger?"