Chapter 72

Chapter 72: It Ended Up Looking Like an Extortionist Taking Advantage of a Crisis

Since last year’s programming overhaul, Fuji TV’s ratings had been steadily rising.

In the first week of July this year, the station even achieved the impressive feat of a Triple Crown in ratings.

Riding the momentum of this major reform, “Yonimo Kimyo na Monogatari” had practically become the signature program of the late-night time slot.

Because of this success, the television station’s production bureau increasingly wanted to bring the program fully under its own control.

Yoshimura Daitomo’s negotiations went smoothly. The master tapes for the final three episodes had already been delivered.

The payment for the broadcast rights of the short dramas was transferred promptly; the August payment had already arrived. In addition, the station paid another 30 million yen as a “transfer bonus” for Shuyu Eiga handing over “Yonimo Kimyo na Monogatari” to the production bureau, along with offering several future prime-time resource opportunities.

Although it was essentially a blatant act of harvesting someone else’s success, the arrangement was wrapped in a respectable façade, allowing Fuji TV to maintain its dignified public image.

Shuyu Eiga, forced to give up the creative ownership, still received substantial compensation.

After all, business was business.

The rest of the staff had been given time off, leaving only the three core members of Shuyu Eiga inside the studio.

Ito Shuichi drank from a can of beer.

“I didn’t expect we’d get an extra 30 million yen. The TV station really has deep pockets.”

Yoshimura Daitomo replied,

“Since Fuji TV’s restructuring, their ratings improved a lot. I heard the late-night programming block is about to undergo a major adjustment. They probably don’t want any trouble at a time like this.”

Ito Shuichi laughed.

“What are you talking about? It makes us sound like extortionists exploiting a crisis.”

“Hahaha, they’re currently competing with several other stations. We just happened to benefit from the situation,” Yoshimura Daitomo said.

Nagayama Naoki also laughed.

“How can it be called extortion? This is like paying a fortune to buy a horse’s bones. Who told them to try stealing our program?”

Counting everything together, the short drama program “Yonimo Kimyo na Monogatari” had generated total revenue exceeding 210 million yen for the three of them.

Based on the original investment ratios, Nagayama Naoki alone would receive half, totaling 105 million yen.

The other two each earned over 50 million yen. Compared to their original investment of 5 million yen, the return had multiplied more than tenfold.

It was an unimaginable fortune for both Ito Shuichi and Yoshimura Daitomo.

“Naoki-san, from an investment perspective this was a huge success! But after ‘Yonimo Kimyo na Monogatari,’ what should we film next?”

Yoshimura Daitomo had practically become Nagayama Naoki’s biggest admirer, eager to continue making money.

“Daitomo-san, opportunities like this don’t come often. For a while, we probably won’t make any big moves.”

When the wind of opportunity blows, even pigs can fly.

“Just wait and see. Soon, many similar short drama programs will start appearing one after another.

If Fuji TV’s production bureau is smart enough, they’ll bring large production companies into collaboration, forming barriers that block small production teams.”

Ito Shuichi asked,

“So when you told me to take on a standard television drama before, was it partly to keep a low profile?”

“That’s one reason. Another is that our foundation still isn’t strong enough. We need time to build real capability.”

Yoshimura Daitomo nodded.

“That’s true. Even coordinating with the TV station has been difficult.”

“It’ll improve gradually. But Daitomo-san,” Nagayama Naoki continued, turning toward him, “since Shuichi-san will participate as a director on the TV drama, the investors will provide a complete support structure. The two of us won’t need to be heavily involved.”

“In that case, don’t we end up with nothing to do?” Yoshimura Daitomo asked. He wasn’t the type who could sit idle.

“We can return to our original line of work,” Nagayama Naoki said. “How about rebuilding the GG agency?”

“Starting from zero? That sounds quite challenging.”

“Haha, it’s already better than before. At least we’ve opened doors with the television stations. Exposure is no longer a problem,” Ito Shuichi joked from the side.

“Daitomo-san, start with what you’re best at. Become a talent scout again.”

“Damn it… I guess that’s the only option for now.”

Unlike his earlier days as a low-level scout at STARLIGHT Agency, where he ran around daily just signing contracts while all management and planning were handled by other departments, earning only a worker’s wage like a “human hunting dog,” things were different now.

He was the owner of the agency himself. Even though it was newly established, every operational decision would be his, and all profits would belong to him. Naturally, Yoshimura Daitomo had no objections.

“By the way, how is the novel you wrote coming along, Naoki-san?”

The topic shifted back to Nagayama Naoki. In Japan, writers were highly respected.

“When I suddenly heard you had written a novel and were publishing it, I was completely shocked.”

“Thanks to Daitomo-san’s help, the contract has already been signed smoothly,” Nagayama Naoki said. The book would likely be printed in about half a month, and the first royalty payments would arrive soon afterward.

Ito Shuichi looked curious.

“Yeah, I was surprised too. Naoki-san suddenly became an author! I heard it’s a realistic story? Thriller? Mystery? Don’t tell me it’s a ghost story?”

“No. It’s just an ordinary short story called ‘The Summer Garden.’ It mainly depicts interactions between the older generation and young boys, exploring the joys and sorrows of real life. Although it’s realistic, it leans more toward children’s literature.”

“Eh?! That’s unexpected. I thought you’d come up with another brilliant, strange idea,” Yoshimura Daitomo said.

From the success of “Yonimo Kimyo na Monogatari,” Nagayama Naoki had clearly demonstrated extraordinary talent in suspense and thriller storytelling. The diverse yet captivating stories were exactly what made the program such a hit.

So both men had assumed his novel would follow the same direction.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect children’s literature either, especially since Naoki-san isn’t that old himself.”

Unlike suspense or thriller popular fiction that pursued novelty and creativity, children’s literature held a special status within literary circles.

It demanded concise, vivid, and expressive language capable of emotional impact, while also remaining humorous and engaging enough to attract young readers. Because of these requirements, expectations for writers were even higher, and publishing reviews were stricter.

Children’s literature therefore possessed a more refined and prestigious position in the literary world.

“Haha, inspiration is unpredictable. Once the first batch is printed, I’ll definitely bring copies for both of you.”

“Of course we want them.”

“We must read Naoki-san’s masterpiece.”

The three raised their beer cans and toasted, celebrating the future success of Nagayama Naoki’s novel.

Amid casual conversation and strange topics, laughter echoed repeatedly through the small office.