The two left the living room and followed the polished wooden corridor all the way to the villa's back garden.
When the heavy wooden back door swung open, the cool scent of vegetation drifted toward them.
On the bluestone steps below the engawa, the servants had already set out walking shoes for the master and his guest. Satsuki slipped her bare feet into a pair of light white canvas shoes, while Shuichi traded his indoor cotton socks for dark outdoor walking shoes.
They stepped down from the corridor and disappeared into the dense pine forest behind the house.
The summer sun in Karuizawa should have been blinding, but here the tall red pines and larches stretched toward the clouds. Their thick branches wove together overhead, filtering out the harsh light and casting wide patches of shade that made the forest paths feel secluded and solemn.
The heat was locked outside, and a quiet, penetrating coolness settled around them. The air smelled of bitter pine resin and the damp earth of the forest floor.
Time had softened the winding path. Years of fallen needles had built a thick, springy brown carpet underfoot.
Dark walking shoes and white canvas shoes took turns pressing into the soft bed of leaves, and each step gave a crisp crunch that echoed through the silent woods. The forest was several degrees cooler than the house, and as the chill seeped in, father and daughter both felt themselves unwind.
"Karuizawa really is perfect for escaping the summer heat," Shuichi said, scanning the path. The moss and greenery were immaculately kept by the gardeners, preserved to look wild yet pristine. "It's just that the humidity is a bit much." Even the bluestone steps, swept clean of every leaf, still carried a slick sheen after the summer rains.
"This dampness feels like it could sink straight into your bones," Shuichi added, shaking his head slightly.
Satsuki walked with her hands behind her back, her pace easy. "It's the humidity that makes everything grow so well," she said. She tilted her head back to look at the fragments of blue sky between the branches. "When we were heading out, I saw the two green plum trees in the corner of the courtyard. The fruit's already plump."
She turned to Shuichi. "Have the kitchen brew some chilled sugar water with rock candy and well water tonight. We can drop the green plums in to cool. It'll be perfect for cutting the damp of the forest."
Shuichi smiled and nodded.
They walked side by side along the winding path. As they rounded a higher ridge, the canopy opened up.
Shuichi's steps slowed. In his peripheral vision, he caught the sprawling construction site on the distant mountainside.
That was the land the Seibu Group had fenced off more than five years ago, slated for an ultra-luxury resort hotel. Five years on, the main structure was up. The gray concrete frame stood exposed, and only half the dark glass curtain walls had been installed.
He remembered complaining back then that the construction noise was ruining the villa's peace. Now the massive site, which should have been in the final sprint of interior work, had gone dead silent.
The tower cranes were still bright orange in the sun. Bundles of insulation, glass panels, and steel scaffolding lay stacked in neat piles. The heavy machinery sat idle on the dirt. There was no engine noise, no voices, not a soul in sight.
A near-finished luxury hotel had been put on ice because the money ran out. It sat there, suspended, a jarring contrast to the living green of the mountains around it.
Shuichi studied the silent building, his brow creasing. "Seibu's cash flow is stretched to the breaking point," he said, a note of regret in his voice. "That lending freeze from the Ministry of Finance has Yoshiaki Tsutsumi in a chokehold. To protect the core properties in Tokyo Bay, he's had to halt flagship projects like this one in Karuizawa just to stop the bleeding."
He looked away and turned to Satsuki. "And I hear the upkeep costs for Gokurakukan already have him at his wits' end."
Satsuki stopped walking. She listened to Shuichi, then glanced toward the half-built complex. A slow smile touched her lips.
"Ah… Uncle Tsutsumi really is in a bad spot," Satsuki said. She turned, hands still behind her back. "Father, do you think we should help him?"
Shuichi laughed despite himself and shook his head at the innocent look on her face. "You little schemer. You weren't worrying about whether he was pitiful when you sold him Gokurakukan."
Satsuki gave a light laugh. She took two steps forward, the pine needles crunching underfoot.
"Father," she said, keeping her hands behind her back as she faced him. "Do you know why, when we built Gokurakukan in Hokkaido, I refused the efficient electric heating system and insisted on those bulky industrial boilers that run on specialized heavy oil as the only energy source for climate control?"
Shuichi frowned, thinking. "Hmm… Because heavy oil engines have the highest thermal efficiency? Hokkaido winters are brutal. If you wanted to maintain a tropical climate at that scale, the power grid might not handle the peak load."
Satsuki shook her head slightly. "That's part of it," she said, her smile widening. "But the main reason is… Uncle Tsutsumi is too fat."
She met Shuichi's eyes. "Seibu Group owns a sixth of all the land in Japan. Their asset pool is bottomless. Ordinary maintenance costs wouldn't be enough poison to kill him~"
Shuichi froze, trying to follow the metaphor. Heavy oil? Poison?
Satsuki lifted her right hand and pointed past Shuichi's shoulder, back toward Chosho Sanso Villa.
"Father, you saw the news just now," she said, her tone almost cheerful. "The situation in the Middle East isn't looking good."
"If war breaks out and the Persian Gulf pipelines are cut, global crude production will fall off a cliff." She traced a small circle in the air with her finger. "When that happens, the price of specialized heavy oil won't be what it is now."
Shuichi's expression faltered. No way… The plans for Gokurakukan were locked in two years ago.
Gokurakukan's climate control couldn't be shut off. If it was, the transplanted tropical plants would die overnight in Hokkaido's cold. To keep the spectacle alive, Seibu had to keep buying heavy oil. And once war spiked prices, the energy bills that already tormented Yoshiaki Tsutsumi would multiply several times over in a single night. By then, Seibu's cash flow would be on life support.
This game had started the moment they chose the Niseko site and signed off on the boiler model two years ago.
Shuichi looked at his daughter and let out a long breath. His gaze drifted past the canopy to the shards of sunlight slipping through the leaves.
"People say being one step ahead makes you a genius," Shuichi said, a complex smile on his face. "Satsuki, you're far more than one step ahead. Your chessboard is so big it scares me."
Satsuki looked back at him, eyes crinkling, her smile vivid. "Why would Father be scared?" She turned and stepped lightly onto the thick pine needles, walking ahead. "Besides, it's only because you're behind me, Father, that I can charge ahead without looking back."
She kept her hands behind her back, tilted her head, and drew out her next words with deliberate playfulness. "Of course… if Father really wants to catch up, this Young Mistress wouldn't mind showing a little mercy and slowing down to wait for you~"
Seeing his daughter's rare, teasing mood, Shuichi laughed, relieved.
"Then I'll have to ask the Young Mistress to wait for this old man," he said, setting off after her slender figure.
The crunch of footsteps turned lighthearted. A summer breeze moved through the canopy, and the dappled gold light spilled through the leaves, shifting across their shoulders as they walked.