Chapter 59

Chapter 59: Where Can You Buy a “Beauty Jar”?

After returning to the studio, everyone immediately resumed their intense filming work.

The third short story was titled “Rejuvenation”.

It told the story of a man in his seventies who, while visiting a shrine dedicated to a cicada deity, became so hungry that he ate the offerings meant for the god. After that, he began shedding a layer of skin each day, becoming ten years younger with every molt.

At first, it seemed like a miracle.

During the first few days, as he grew younger and younger, the old man indulged himself completely—eating lavishly, enjoying life, spending money recklessly, and even visiting adult entertainment establishments. He carried himself with youthful vigor, completely different from the gentle elderly man he once was.

Within only a few days, he quarreled with the family who had once loved him deeply. In anger, he left home and moved into a hotel.

But after he disappeared for a long time, his family, unable to abandon their loved one, finally located the hotel where he was staying about a week later.

When they opened the door, however, the room was empty.

The bed was covered with flakes of shed skin, and what remained was a lump of flesh resembling a baby embryo.

The story was extremely intriguing. What initially appeared to be a blessing of rejuvenation ultimately turned into a curse.

Filming this story required extensive special-effects makeup work. Skin texture, white hair, wrinkles, and even layers of artificial peeling skin all had to be carefully prepared by the makeup artists piece by piece.

Aside from the opening shrine scene, everything else could be filmed inside the studio.

The following day, taking advantage of the rain, Nagayama Naoki and Higuchi Kanako completed the remaining ending scenes.

At this point, all three stories of the short drama collection had finished filming.

Even including later editing and opening visual effects, the entire production would take less than a week.

The pace was fast.

In fact, during the 1990s in Hong Kong, a fast-paced film could be shot in just one week.

A comedy New Year film like “The Eagle Shooting Heroes” took only one month to complete, while the same cast and crew were simultaneously filming “Ashes of Time”.

This clearly demonstrated how rapid production schedules were during that era.

Yoshimura Daitomo had already contacted Fuji TV and arranged for the program to air in the late-night 11 p.m. slot. The three short stories would be broadcast one per week, lasting roughly a month.

“Naoki-san, now it depends on whether the audience accepts it.”

Ito Shuichi seemed relaxed. “A thirty-minute program ends around 11:30. Perfect timing for going to bed.”

“I’m not worried about the quality of the drama,” Nagayama Naoki said. “I’m just concerned that not enough people will see it. Daitomo-san, if the response is good, try to get other programs to mention it.”

He knew many shows included informal promotional mentions.

If keywords like “Beauty Jar” appeared repeatedly, they would inevitably attract viewers’ attention.

In 1980s Tokyo, the term “city that never sleeps” had not yet become widespread, but districts such as Shinjuku and Roppongi were already brightly lit throughout the night.

At eleven o’clock, young people’s nightlife was only beginning.

Many office workers had just returned home, opened a beer, and turned on the television to relax briefly.

Miyazaki Ryuichi was one of them.

After showering and opening a beer, watching television was the most comfortable moment after a tiring day. Usually he watched late-night talk shows or comedy programs before going to sleep. The daily routine of a single man was simple.

But that night, he encountered a program titled “Yonimo Kimyona Monogatari”.

The bespectacled host introduced something intriguing—the “Beauty Jar.” Opening it would produce a beautiful woman to accompany you?

The plot was simple, yet the concept was fascinating. In the end, the handsome male protagonist discovered that he himself had also been manufactured, and the twist was surprising.

“Of course someone that handsome couldn’t be an ordinary person.”

“The beauty produced by the Beauty Jar really is perfect… isn’t that Higuchi Kanako?”

Higuchi Kanako happened to be Miyazaki Ryuichi’s ideal type.

“If there’s a Beauty Jar, there must also be a Handsome Guy Jar.”

Half an hour later, the episode ended, but Miyazaki Ryuichi’s thoughts did not stop.

Inside his small apartment, scattered belongings lay around. The bed was for one person, the cup was for one person. What once felt like freedom suddenly made him feel an unfamiliar loneliness.

Lying on the tatami, he stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

“Damn it… where can I buy a product like the Beauty Jar?”

Early the next morning, Nagayama Naoki was awakened by a phone call from Yoshimura Daitomo while still half asleep.

“Hello…”

“Naoki-san, it’s a huge success!” an excited voice came through the receiver.

“What success?” Nagayama Naoki had not fully woken up yet.

“‘Yonimo Kimyona Monogatari’!” Yoshimura Daitomo sounded thrilled. “The ratings reached 17%! After the broadcast ended, many viewers called Fuji TV asking where they could buy the Beauty Jar!”

“Really? That’s great!” Nagayama Naoki instantly woke up. For late-night programming, where ratings of 10–15% were already considered good, this result was explosive.

“Daitomo-san, the rest is up to you.”

“Leave it to me!”

According to the earlier plan, the first three episodes broadcast that month were resources previously exchanged with the BURNING agency. Whether the television station would continue purchasing future episodes depended entirely on ratings and audience engagement.

Normally, television dramas were purchased by episode count. However, “Yonimo Kimyona Monogatari” did not yet have a fixed total number of episodes, so production length had to be negotiated—approximately nine episodes per quarter, eighteen across summer and winter seasons.

The copyright for “Yonimo Kimyona Monogatari” was not registered under GG Agency. Instead, a new shell company named Juyou Eiga had been established, primarily responsible for television and film rights management.

With the first episode’s performance confirmed, negotiating further purchase contracts posed little difficulty. The main issue was price.

Yoshimura Daitomo’s social skills proved effective after more than a decade of experience.

A few days later, after several drinking sessions with the station’s acquisition staff and department head, he successfully sold the television broadcasting rights.

Only the broadcasting rights.

Each episode was priced at 20 million yen. Three episodes per month meant 60 million yen, and nine episodes per quarter totaled 180 million yen.

However, the contract renewed monthly.

If the three episodes of a given month failed to achieve good results, the following month would be canceled.

The contract terms were actually very strict. It was clear the television station signed mainly out of consideration for previously exchanged resources.

Nevertheless, Nagayama Naoki and his team had confidence in their work and accepted the agreement.

Everyone knew television dramas were profitable, but no one expected profits on this scale.

With a production cost of only 20 million yen, returns reached eight times the investment.

All three were astonished by the rate of return.

Now that the contract was signed, future production needed to move onto a formal track.

“Shuichi-san, the door to the television drama industry has opened. From here on, it’s your battle.”

Searching for creative scripts, recruiting stars, and maintaining rapid production schedules would keep Ito Shuichi extremely busy. As producer, Nagayama Naoki would supervise final decisions and also contribute story ideas—after all, he still had many strange stories stored in his mind.

“Yes. I stake my reputation as a director on completing the remaining fifteen episodes successfully.”

For a director, attaching one’s name to every production became future credentials and personal honors.