The central library of Seika Academy was a Showa-era red-brick building with a vaulted dome and narrow stained-glass windows. The air remained dry and cool, carrying the scent of aged paper and turpentine from the floor wax.
During lunch break, the library was nearly empty. Sunlight from the stained glass cut diagonally across the oak shelves, casting colored patterns over the dust.
Satsuki stood at the Social Sciences shelves. Her hair was down today, black and loose over her shoulders with slightly curled ends. She pulled out a thick post-war Japanese economic history, turned several pages, and listened to the crisp rustle of paper.
Two steps away, Amy sat at a reading table spinning a mechanical pencil. A copy of Nikkei Electronics lay open beside a bag of Pocky. She had a biscuit stick in her mouth and stared blankly at a Motorola microprocessor circuit diagram.
"Too slow," Amy mumbled around the Pocky, pushing her silver frames up her nose. "By data transmission standards, Ezaki-san's response speed is from the telegraph era. I could finish in ten minutes."
"Humans aren't machines, Amy." Satsuki closed the book and slid it back onto the shelf. "In this circle, making people feel needed and waited for is the ritual. Responding too quickly looks cheap."
She turned toward the dim corridor entrance. Hurried, uneven footsteps broke the library's silence. The sound of hard leather soles on wood grew closer.
Ezaki Mariko appeared around the bookshelf. She had been running. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her perm was disheveled. When she saw Satsuki, her anxious expression shifted to visible excitement.
"Saionji-san!" Mariko kept her voice low, but her excitement was obvious. She hurried over, forgetting library protocol, clutching a crocodile-skin handbag so tightly it deformed. "Sorry I'm late. I had to verify share counts and annotate everyone's family background. It took longer than expected."
She checked that no one else was present, then carefully pulled a kraft folder from her bag.
"This is what you wanted." Mariko handed it over with both hands, as if presenting confidential material.
Days earlier, the 'tacit approval' in the Rose Society room had motivated Mariko. She not only offloaded the stocks but believed she had gained access to the inner circle.
That morning, Satsuki had approached her privately. In a confiding tone, she said, 'I want to know everyone's enthusiasm level so I can plan Rose Society activities better.' Mariko interpreted this as trust and a path to becoming a confidante.
Satsuki took the folder. Her fingertips paused on the rough kraft paper.
"Thank you for your hard work, Ezaki-san." Satsuki's voice was soft, with a calculated note of approval. "In this school, people as thorough and considerate as you are rare."
Mariko flushed immediately. She twisted her fingers and spoke incoherently: "No trouble. It's an honor to help you, Saionji-san. And I think the Rose Society should screen members. Some people have the background but lack foresight. They don't match your level."
Amy bit down on her Pocky. The crack was audible. She glanced at Mariko with momentary pity.
Satsuki ignored the display of loyalty. She opened the folder and removed several densely printed A4 sheets. Stained-glass light cast colored shadows on the paper.
The list was long. Mariko's work was meticulous. It was not merely a list, but an intelligence map containing names, families that controlled finance, government seals, and police authority.
The year was 1988. The Nikkei was approaching 30,000 and Tokyo land prices were setting records. The public believed that buying stock meant buying the future.
To ensure Apex Group's post-IPO performance and build protection for illegal expansion, pre-IPO shares had been transferred cheaply to children and relatives of the powerful. This was a legal gray zone that functioned as interest-peddling.
Satsuki scanned the numbers quickly: 5,000 shares, 3,000 shares, 2,000 shares. Each line represented future liability.
In several months, the media would expose this. The Tokyo District Prosecutors Office Special Investigation Department would intervene. Every family on this list would face consequences. A Budget Committee Chairman would resign. A MITI Director-General would be suspended and investigated.
The girls who expected wealth would learn that their stocks were not tickets to Paris, but instruments that could send their fathers to prison. Even if these girls were not involved, their fathers would find other channels. But if the transfers went through their hands and ended with their families imprisoned, those girls would carry lifelong guilt.
"This is an all-star lineup," Satsuki thought.
Her eyes stopped at the last line. A name was circled in red with a question mark beside it.
Satsuki raised an eyebrow. "President Kudo didn't take it?" she asked casually, looking up.
Mariko startled. Her smile stiffened and turned to disdain. "Yeah. That nerd doesn't recognize an opportunity. I had someone send him an LOI and implied it was my father's support for Student Council work. He returned it. Said 'Student Council doesn't do commercial activities.' Who is he performing integrity for? Everyone knows his father is just a prosecutor on a fixed salary. The family isn't wealthy."
"A prosecutor, I see," Satsuki said, nodding thoughtfully.
This outcome was acceptable. Kudo Kei's refusal meant he was uncontrollable, but also uncorrupted. When the reckoning came, uncorrupted people could be leveraged.
"It's fine." Satsuki closed the folder and tapped the cover twice. "Some people are meant to look up from the base of the mountain. We don't need to concern ourselves with them."
Mariko's eyes brightened. "You're right. I think so too." She nodded hard, her eyes fixed on the folder in Satsuki's hand. "Then, Saionji-san, are you satisfied with this list? Do you need me to—"
"No need. This is enough." Satsuki cut her off.
She folded the folder slowly and deliberately, as if folding a letter. "This list is valuable. It clarifies many things for me."
Specifically, it identified who were greedy, who were incompetent gamblers, and who would vacate key positions in three months. The Saionji family would not participate in this scheme, but they could acquire assets after the collapse. When these families fell to scandal, the political vacuums, channels, and premium assets they liquidated would become available.
This was both a death list and a map of opportunity.
"Then..." Mariko rubbed her hands, tentative. "This Sunday's Rose Society tea... can I—"
She wanted official status.
Satsuki looked at her. She reached out and patted Mariko's shoulder lightly. "You did well, Ezaki-san." Her voice carried persuasive weight. "At this tea party, sit on my left. I think everyone would appreciate your thoughts on the 'Information Superhighway.'"
Mariko felt immediate euphoria. The left side was a core member seat, previously reserved for people like Yoshino Ayako and Isokawa Reiko. She believed she had advanced.
"Yes. Thank you, Saionji-san." Mariko's face was red and her voice shook. She bowed deeply at ninety degrees. "I'll prepare thoroughly. I won't disappoint you."
"Go," Satsuki said, smiling. "Don't keep everyone waiting. You're our school's most popular 'God of Wealth' now."
"Yes." Mariko turned and walked away with light steps. Her leather shoes tapped on the wood. The library became quiet again. Only dust moved in the light beams.
Amy finished her last Pocky. She watched Mariko's back and pushed her glasses up. "Data overflow," she said indistinctly.
"What?" Satsuki slipped the folded folder into her jacket's inner pocket.
"Her dopamine levels," Amy said, opening her oolong can. "And Apex Group's stock price expectations. All indicators are too high. Illogical. Like buggy code. It runs now, but one memory error causes a crash."
She took a sip and looked at Satsuki. "Were you writing her death warrant just now?"
Satsuki laughed. She walked to the window and pushed open the heavy stained glass. Afternoon breeze entered and moved her hair. Outside, in the Seika courtyard, girls were laughing on the lawn.
"Amy, do you know what alchemy is?" Satsuki asked, looking at the figures below.
"Alchemy? Turning stone to gold?" Amy blinked.
"That's basic alchemy. Unsafe." Satsuki shook her head. "True alchemy is converting other people's greed into your bargaining chips."
Amy felt a chill. She looked at the sixteen-year-old girl bathed in sun. She smiled gently, but her actions suggested a calculated mind.
"So... what do we do?" Amy lowered her head slightly to hide her flush.
"Nothing," Satsuki said, turning from the windowsill. Sunlight gilded her silhouette. "We watch the play to the end. We wait for the stage to collapse and the actors to fall. Then we collect the gold coins from the ground, one by one."
She took a fruit candy from her pocket, unwrapped it, and ate it. The candy cracked audibly in the empty library.
"Let's go, Amy. It's class time. I heard today's history is 'Taisho Bubble Collapse.' It should be relevant."
Satsuki adjusted her collar and stepped toward the door.
"Mm," Amy said, grabbing her magazine and snacks. She trotted after her.