Chapter 17

Chapter 17 017: Explosive Hit! A Genius Composer Is Born!

The weather finally cleared slightly.

Record stores in Ginza and Akihabara began playing the light and sweet melody of “Cherry Blossom”.

Posters of Matsuda Seiko appeared everywhere in soft pastel tones, as if the cherry blossoms of two months later had already bloomed across Tokyo’s streets.

After Momoe Yamaguchi’s retirement, the idol industry of the past two years had effectively belonged to Matsuda Seiko.

Even on the streets, passing schoolgirls could occasionally be heard humming the song.

Record shops quickly ran out of stock, all requesting additional pressings.

Nagayama Naoki naturally did not need to buy a copy himself. Once production finished, Sanwa Daisei sent him ten records directly—relationship copies, each personally signed by Matsuda Seiko.

He did not forget Hoshino Suzumi. He mailed one record to her and one to Nakai Genta. Another copy went to his younger sister Tsuruko. His mother, Nagayama Nanako, however, was not a fan of young idols; she preferred Hibari Misora.

Speaking of Nakai Genta, he had apparently decided to join a bank and become a highly sought-after banker at the Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi. Perhaps future loans could go through him.

One week after release, the record officially reached No.1 on the Oricon chart. The single was undeniably a massive hit.

Both lyrics and composition on the record credited Nagayama Naoki. This immediately drew industry attention, and entertainment tabloids began calling the newcomer a “genius composer” who had risen to fame overnight.

Only then did Naoki finally let go of a lingering worry: even though he had altered history, the song remained a success beloved by the public.

The moment the rankings were announced, he began executing the plan he had long prepared.

“Genta-san, how’s work at the bank going?” Naoki contacted Nakai Genta on Monday.

“How could it be? Running errands, serving tea at the branch. New employees always start like this.”

In Japan’s seniority-based system, newcomers without backing rarely touched real business for at least a year.

“How’s your direct senior? Easy to work with?”

“Ito-san? Very experienced. Popular in the company. Treats people well.”

“Oh? Not bullying new staff? Sounds competent.”

In Japanese banks, competition was fierce. Smiles were often fake, and mistreating newcomers was practically tradition—the less capable seniors tended to treat juniors worse.

“Maybe. I haven’t handled real operations yet, so I don’t know.”

Naoki said calmly:

“Genta-san, if you suddenly brought a client applying for a large loan, would Ito-senpai let you participate in real business earlier?”

Banks had a special category of employee: resource staff—people capable of bringing in capital, clients, or connections. Management valued them highly.

Japan’s economy was booming. Banks were eager to lend money, and the Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi was no exception.

“A large loan? How large?”

“At least one hundred million yen.”

“That’s… not especially huge, but it should make Ito-senpai happy.”

So this guy already thought one hundred million yen wasn’t much money after only a few days in banking.

The next morning, Nagayama Naoki brought his copyright royalty contract and met Nakai Genta, who escorted him to a VIP meeting room at the Nakano Branch of the Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi.

He took a sip of the hot tea served by a bank employee. The flavor lingered pleasantly—far better than tea at real estate agencies or talent offices.

Soon, Nakai Genta entered with a middle-aged man in a suit and gold-rim glasses.

The man bowed immediately.

“Nice to meet you. I am Ito Masayuki, senior client manager at Mitsubishi Bank.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Nagayama Naoki.” He bowed in return.

“Thank you very much for choosing our bank. I will do my utmost to assist with your loan application.”

Another bow.

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Another bow in response. The formalities were exhausting.

Once seated, Ito Masayuki began confirming details.

“I heard part of the situation from Genta-kun, but I would like to verify it directly.”

“Yes. I composed a song earlier. Thanks to Matsuda Seiko, the record achieved excellent results. I would like to use the copyright royalties as collateral for a loan to operate a business.”

He could not openly say he intended to speculate in real estate. That would classify the loan as a housing loan, requiring strict evaluation of salary, employment history, credit rating, and other factors.

Someone like Nagayama Naoki—without salary or stable income—would never qualify for large housing loans.

Worse, once holding a personal mortgage, future refinancing would become extremely difficult.

But a commercial collateral loan worked differently. As long as the asset’s commercial value was recognized, banks cared far less about how the money was used.

“Which song generates these royalties? Has the beneficiary scope been finalized?”

“It’s Matsuda Seiko’s newly released “Cherry Blossom”. It has already reached No.1 on the Oricon chart and is expected to become a major seller.”

“That’s remarkable!” Ito Masayuki clearly understood the music industry’s profits.

“With sales of only five hundred thousand copies, royalties alone could exceed one hundred million yen.”

Nakai Genta interjected:

“Incredible. I thought the ten-million-yen copyright fee was everything.”

“Yes, but those are long-term royalties. I wish to secure funds now to operate an industry project.”

Naoki ignored him.

“May I ask what type of business you intend to operate?”

Naoki pulled out a prepared proposal.

“Based on current dance halls, combined with future entertainment trends, I drafted a dance club project.”

Years of office work in his previous life made preparing presentations and data analysis effortless.

The proposal essentially described a future disco concept—integrating ideas from modern dance clubs and karaoke culture. With a thirty-year advantage in perspective, the plan appeared extremely promising.

“This proposal has tremendous potential! Your vision is truly ahead of its time, Nagayama-kun.”

Ito Masayuki, having reviewed countless business ideas, felt genuinely interested.

“Have you heard of a Proper Loan? Your project might qualify for one.”

“I’m not familiar with it. Please explain.”

After listening, Naoki realized the Proper Loan resembled venture capital: larger funds and lower interest rates, but the bank would share profits, impose many conditions, and supervise operations closely.

He rejected it immediately.

He had no intention of exhausting himself building a startup. The proposal itself was merely a façade—to obtain funds under the name of opening a disco while actually purchasing commercial land.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but I prefer proceeding with a loan backed by copyright royalties.”

In Japan, that wording constituted a clear refusal.

“That is unfortunate,” Ito Masayuki replied regretfully. A successful Proper Loan could have earned him commissions and even an internal appointment overseeing the project—a major career advancement.

He stopped promoting the idea and began reviewing documents and assessing loan eligibility.

“Overall, your materials present no problems. A loan of one hundred million yen should be approved,” he concluded.

“The funds should arrive within three to four days.”

Because Nakai Genta had coordinated beforehand, documentation was complete. Only final confirmation of royalty income remained.

For that era, the process was extremely fast—thanks to Naoki’s clear financial profile and high-quality collateral.

“Then I will proceed with processing the application,” Ito Masayuki said, bowing. “Genta-san will assist you meanwhile.”

“Thank you for your hard work today.”

Both Nakai Genta and Nagayama Naoki stood and bowed as he left.

The meeting room door closed softly.

Only then did Nakai Genta relax.

“Finally over… That atmosphere was intense. I’ve never watched Ito-senpai handle business negotiations before. I barely dared speak.”

You definitely spoke, Naoki thought, giving him a look of disdain.

“You still have a lot to learn, Genta-san.”

“By the way, why didn’t you choose the Proper Loan? Bigger amount, lower interest—it sounded great.”

Because he refused to work himself to death running a company.

“You think Proper Loans are easy? Funding depends on project performance. If progress stalls, the bank stops lending and demands repayment immediately—and they send someone to supervise every expense.”

He added casually:

“Isn’t there a saying? Banks lend you an umbrella on sunny days and take it back when it rains.”

“Huh? Naoki-san… don’t you have some misunderstanding about banks?”