Chapter 60

Chapter 60: He’s Simply a Monster!

Any movement made by a television station, no matter how small, must be closely monitored by production companies and talent agencies in the entertainment industry—especially something as significant as purchasing a television drama.

Many company presidents immediately instructed their subordinates: “Investigate. I want to know everything behind this show!”

Within just a couple of days, production companies learned that the producer behind “Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari” was Tree Friend Films, merely a newly established shell company.

What truly drew attention was the person behind it—Yoshimura Daitomo. An otherwise unknown manager had somehow become the company’s chairman.

Digging further revealed that he had previously come from a small agency within the BURNING group. Looking deeper still, it turned out the television station resources had also been provided by BURNING Agency.

That settled it. The program belonged to the BURNING faction.

Once that conclusion was reached, interest quickly faded.

Unknowingly, Nagayama Naoki and his team ended up sheltered under the banner of the BURNING group, avoiding interference from other production companies and agencies in the industry.

The director was Itō Shūichi, the creator of the highly praised Sakura commercial—clearly someone with real ability.

As for producer Nagayama Naoki, industry insiders viewed him as an ordinary entertainer with some creative talent. Still, he was very young; many assumed he was merely a figurehead pushed forward for publicity.

In the eyes of entertainment agencies and production companies, performers were simply products. Their status was actually quite low.

Only those with overwhelming fame and seniority were treated differently—money trees, living treasures to be carefully protected.

However, Nagayama Naoki understood the nature of Japanese production companies and agencies well. Once they fully grasped the short-drama format, they could easily create similar programs and, relying on their powerful connections, push “Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari” off the air.

Because short dramas were simple to produce, even the television station itself might directly seize the concept.

In his previous life’s memories, “Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari” had originally been planned by the television station itself, which was precisely why it managed to resist interference from other entertainment capital.

At the celebration banquet after successfully signing the contract, Nagayama Naoki explained the situation to Yoshimura Daitomo and Itō Shūichi.

“Shūichi-san, Daitomo-san, this time ‘Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari’ is a success—but danger is coming as well.”

They had been celebrating happily, so both men looked puzzled.

“Danger? What danger?”

“Haven’t you forgotten the Wildcat Group?” Nagayama Naoki reminded them. “Once results appear, someone will come to pick the fruit.”

“You mean the major production companies?” Itō Shūichi found it hard to believe. “Would they really care about such small profits?”

“They don’t want the money,” Nagayama Naoki sighed. “Human attention is limited. Broadcast time is limited. The profits of the entertainment industry are limited. What they want is to ensure no outsiders share those profits.”

“They?”

“All vested interests—large production companies, agencies, even the television stations themselves.”

Yoshimura Daitomo fell silent. Would the work he poured his heart into be taken away again?

“Is there really no solution, Naoki-san? You’re a genius,” the older man said, placing his hopes on him.

“What solution could there be? The law of this world is survival of the fittest. ‘Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari’ is too easy to replicate, and without strong connections or background, we’re destined not to keep this fruit forever.”

Itō Shūichi suddenly remembered something. “But the program belongs to us! The copyright is ours!”

“It’s useless. They could simply change the name—‘Strange World,’ ‘Amazing Tales of the World’… there are always ways.”

Nagayama Naoki could see things so clearly because he had never regarded the program as irreplaceable. The other two understood this as well, but concern clouded judgment.

“Shūichi-san, Daitomo-san, the reason I’m saying this during such a happy moment is so we don’t invest too much emotionally in this show. Treat it as a necessary stepping stone, and everything becomes easier.”

“A stepping stone?”

“Yes. It may sound cold, but just like the Wildcat Group before, it’s a stepping stone toward the next stage.”

He continued, “Shūichi-san, remember your dream? You wanted to direct famous television dramas. Works at that level can’t easily be taken away. You’ve already taken a huge step—from commercials to short dramas.”

“And Daitomo-san, didn’t you want to become the president of a major company? Resource exchanges and building solid industry connections are what truly matter. From photo magazines to managing an idol group to producing short dramas—haven’t you been steadily entering the core of the entertainment world?”

Nagayama Naoki looked at both of them. “Climbing from obscurity to the summit isn’t something achieved in a single step.”

Most people only get one chance to rise—but they had Nagayama Naoki. Future opportunities would not be scarce.

After a moment of silence, both men seemed to understand.

Yoshimura Daitomo drank a glass of alcohol. “Yes… it really is difficult.”

Itō Shūichi then looked at Nagayama Naoki. “You’ve talked about our dreams for so long. What about yours?”

“What is it, indeed?” Nagayama Naoki paused.

When he first arrived in the Shōwa era, he wanted to become rich overnight. Later, he wished to live an idle, carefree life. After gaining wealth, however, he realized that a life without ideals wasn’t as interesting as he imagined—it felt like drifting aimlessly. And now?

“I suppose… I want to try everything,” he said. Having entered the entertainment industry by coincidence, he wanted to stand at a high place and see its scenery. Then he added, “And live a relaxed life afterward.”

“Huh? That’s supposed to be a dream?” Itō Shūichi complained.

Nagayama Naoki laughed and changed the subject. “Anyway, let’s achieve your dreams first. When the time comes, I’ll rely on the two future presidents and the famous director to help fulfill mine.”

“Come on, finish this drink—we’re going dancing!”

After understanding their position, Itō Shūichi and Yoshimura Daitomo did not relax. Instead, they threw themselves into the work with even greater passion.

As they put it, even if the project was eventually traded away, they would deliver the best possible work.

Indeed, the format of “Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari” was destined to become a long-running program.

And since the first season already bore the unmistakable imprint of Tree Friend Films and Itō Shūichi, if later creators failed to surpass them, the reputation of the first season would only grow stronger through constant comparison.

In the end, whenever people mentioned “Yo nimo Kimyō na Monogatari,” they would still remember the pioneers—Tree Friend Films and Itō Shūichi.

With that in mind, Nagayama Naoki quickly wrote down many famous future stories from memory: “Yesterday Park,” “Spirit of the Snow Mountain,” “Dr. Air,” and others.

One astonishing and meaningful story after another left Itō Shūichi exclaiming repeatedly, “Naoki-san is simply a monster! How many talents are you still hiding?”

Nagayama Naoki could only reveal a faint, ambiguous smile to express his feelings:

“I honestly don’t know how many things are buried in the subconscious of memories from more than thirty years in the future.”