Afternoon sun poured through the White Rose Hall's floor-to-ceiling windows, laying the parquet floor in bars of gold. The air smelled like Darjeeling and warm butter from fresh scones.
This was the Rose Society's temporary clubroom — a group Satsuki had built in middle school at Seika Academy.
She was in high school now. No new "Rose Society" on paper. But the group survived, tight and unofficial. And thanks to the Saionji name, the school had "allocated" this sunlit lounge for after-school use anyway.
Most middle-school members had moved up with her. A few had transferred — family reasons. The rest sat here now.
Crystal chandelier threw light flecks onto the deep blue hems of uniform skirts.
Satsuki sat at the head of the table by the window, bone-china teacup gilded at the rim. Hair down today. Black, smooth over her shoulders. Lazy, aristocratic ease.
Beside her, Amy concentrated on sugar cubes.
She was dieting. One cube? Two? Serious debate.
"Saionji-san… I, um, heard something recently."
Across the round table, Ezaki Mariko leaned forward, voice dropped, conspiratorial.
She'd tamed her uniform today — skirt back to regulation length, watch swapped for something plain. Trying hard to pass as old money.
Since handing over that pink diamond last chapter, she'd been let into the room. Now she needed to prove she belonged.
"Oh? What did Ezaki-san hear?" Satsuki set her cup down. Eyes gentle.
Mariko checked left, right. Door shut. Then she pulled a thick manila envelope from a hidden pocket in her schoolbag.
Slid it toward Satsuki like it was state secrets.
"This is an LOI for pre-IPO subscription in 'Apex Media,' a subsidiary of my father's company."
Mariko's voice had pride she couldn't quite hide. And hunger.
"As you know, my father's Apex Group started in HR and information services. Now our job magazines — 'B-ing' and 'Travail' — basically own Tokyo's employment market."
She tapped the envelope. Eyes bright.
"This is the value of information. Company's going public on TSE Second Section this autumn. Three months. We control Japan's biggest talent database and info network. Market sentiment? Price triples on listing. Minimum."
Room went quiet.
Even high-school girls who didn't do finance knew what 'pre-IPO shares' meant in 1988. And Apex Group — fastest-rising 'information empire' in Japan. HR monopoly, pushing into telecom, networks.
Free money.
Fast track to Hermès, Chanel, Paris.
Several girls around the table lit up. Eyes like sharks catching blood.
Allowances were big, but not that big. Few hundred thousand yen a month didn't cover their lives.
Mariko basked in it. Looked at Satsuki, eager.
"Saionji-san, I saved this 'special allotment' for you. Not much — two thousand shares. Just a token from my father. Please accept."
Cannonball wrapped in sugar.
And a loyalty oath.
Take it, and Saionji interests tie to Apex Group.
Amy adjusted her glasses. Corner of her mouth twitched.
She'd seen real tech in Silicon Valley. Cisco — hardware that stitched the world together. Adobe — software that bent reality. Compared to that, this company that resold resumes and played capital games? Zero tech. Zero substance.
How dare they call themselves tech?
And 'free lunch'? Amy's rule: free lunch means you're the product.
She looked at Satsuki.
Satsuki didn't move.
Just looked at the envelope. Fingers tracing her teacup rim.
1988. Pre-IPO. HR giant.
It all fit.
The 'Recruit Scandal' — the one that would detonate Japanese politics, take down cabinet ministers, party bosses.
This was 'alchemy' cleaner than cash bribes.
Hand out pre-IPO shares — Apex Media — to specific power holders. Bubble era, Nikkei racing to 30,000. Paper turns to gold on listing. Three times. Ten times.
No suitcases. No backroom envelopes.
Recipients just sell post-IPO. Billions of yen, 'legal,' in their accounts. Nagatacho faction heads. Kasumigaseki bureaucrats. Otemachi media barons. Nobody clean.
Now the fire was at her door.
"Ezaki-san."
Satsuki's voice broke the silence. Regretful.
"I appreciate the thought. But…"
She reached out. Didn't take the envelope. Pushed it back, gentle.
"My father's tightening family finance discipline lately. Very strict on derivatives. Told me not to touch high-risk investments casually. Especially information service firms — given our group's restructuring, we have to avoid any appearance of impropriety."
"Huh? But…" Mariko froze. Hurried. "This isn't risky! Guaranteed profit… We're real industry, Japan's biggest job network…"
"I know," Satsuki cut in, smile clean, no impurity. "But family rules are family rules. Jewelry, art — maybe Father closes an eye. Stocks… I don't dare disobey."
Mariko's face went white.
Her big gift. Dismissed. Like that.
If so, her position here… Then the short-haired girl to Satsuki's left set her cup down.
Yoshino Ayako. Daughter of Mitsui Bank Shinjuku branch manager.
"Since Saionji-san says so…" Ayako smiled, eyes flicking over the envelope, "I'll pass too. My father's been on about compliance. Pre-IPO shares are… sensitive."
Other side, Isokawa Reiko shook her head slightly. Granddaughter of an LDP Takeshita faction heavyweight. Usually blunt. But she'd grown sharp edges in this circle.
"I heard Grandpa say investigations are tightening," Reiko said, holding a cookie, not biting. "Since Satsuki-chan isn't taking, I can't either."
These two — Satsuki's core picks from middle school. Didn't get business deep. Got survival: follow Saionji Satsuki, you don't die.
If Saionji rejects free meat, there's a hook in it.
Mariko panicked.
Wh-what now? Didn't plan for rejection… "However."
Satsuki changed tone.
Eyes past Mariko, to the other girls in the room — pretending to read, actually ear-tilted hard.
Newer members. Peripheral Rose Society. Nouveau riche daughters. Minor bureaucrat families, shallow roots.
Their eyes: two words. Want.
In a mind-rotted bubble, some people can't say no to free wealth.
"Though we can't participate, this is Ezaki-san's kindness."
Satsuki picked up the teapot. Elegant. Calm. Poured hot tea into Mariko's now-empty cup.
"We're all Rose Society sisters. Since it's a 'benefit,' why not ask if others are interested? Making everyone happy together — that's the Society's purpose."
Key in Pandora's box.
Mariko froze one second. Then ecstasy.
Saionji Satsuki didn't take it. But she permitted it! Encouraged distribution!
What did that mean? She could build her own web here, in this apex circle, with interests as thread!
"O-of course!"
Mariko's voice shook with excitement. She turned, opened envelope, pulled out a thick stack of LOIs.
"Everyone! If you're interested, look! Once-in-a-lifetime chance! We're building Japan's information superhighway!"
"Really? Ezaki-san, can I buy too?"
"I want five hundred shares! Need a new schoolbag!"
"Me too! My dad says info stocks are exploding!"
Quiet clubroom became a stock pit.
Girls dropped pretenses. Swarmed Mariko. Fought to fill subscription forms. Mariko at center, flushed, pen waving, queen of the world.
Meanwhile, Satsuki's side: deathly quiet.
Girls who didn't subscribe held teacups, drifted closer to Satsuki.
Yoshino Ayako held her cup, leaned back, putting distance from the chaos. Isokawa Reiko head-down in a book like none of it existed.
Amy watched the frenzy. Set her cup down. Base clinked the saucer.
"Have they lost their minds?"
Amy whispered, venting to Satsuki.
"If there really were risk-free deals, why wouldn't the Ezaki family keep it all? This 'free lunch' looks exactly like those scam emails — click and you're infected. Zero doubt?"
"Because greed fries the brain."
Satsuki picked up a scone. Broke it. Spread bright red strawberry jam.
"Amy, in this world, free things cost the most."
She ate the pastry. Jam red. Like blood at the corner of her mouth.
Families of the girls taking shares would be dragged into the political storm coming.
Good.
Rose Society had gotten bloated lately.
Someone brought poison. Let the purge be thorough.
She ran elitist. Few elites over many followers.
Only those who stayed clear-headed before temptation belonged on her board.
The rest… Satsuki raised her teacup. Behind the rim, she watched the girls, faces twisted with excitement in the afternoon sun. Cold curve at her mouth.
Let them rot in laughter and cheers.