The Last Shopping Season Before the Bubble Burst

The morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled shadows on Nakayama Takuya's desk.

Takuya had just finished making coffee and returned to his office when the phone on his desk rang.

"Takuya!"

The voice on the other end of the phone was completely different from the tired and aggrieved voice of a few days ago; it was now filled with irrepressible joy and energy.

"Looks like our 'lubricant' is working well?" Takuya leaned back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips.

"Not just good! It's incredibly effective!" Eri's voice carried a hint of pride and boastfulness.

"Oh? It seems our producer has taken control of everything?" Takuya teased Eri.

"Hmph, you didn't see it. His eyes lit up after I handed over the authority to allocate that 'logistics support expenses' to the Chinese producer!"

"The camera storage process that had been dragging on for three days was completed in half an hour! That Section Chief Section Chief Wang was holding us back came to the site with fruit the very next day to offer his condolences—his attitude changed faster than flipping through a book!"

Eri's tone carried a hint of disdain.

"The pastry chef I couldn't get a reservation with before cleared out his kitchen today, just so we could film him!"

Eri laughed crisply, as if sharing some spoils of war.

"They even offered to use their channels to help us find some ancient houses and gardens that are not open to the public for filming, saying they wanted to showcase 'the most authentic Chinese aesthetics'! It felt like we were being treated like royalty!"

"You've worked hard, Your Highness," Takuya said gently, teasingly.

"It's not tiring at all!" Eri's tone was slightly coquettish, but more so, it was filled with heartfelt pride and sweetness. "With you here, I'm not afraid of anything."

"Oh, and one more thing," she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret.

"That film thing you mentioned also happened!"

"They actually borrowed our equipment to film some kind of leadership inspection. A dozen or so people were clapping, shaking hands, and talking in front of the camera; they used up a whole roll of film. That scene—I witnessed it firsthand..."

"Our team's photographer was heartbroken, and I had to hold back my laughter and comfort him, telling him it was a 'necessary cost.'"

Listening to Eri's vivid description, Takuya's smile deepened.

"This morning, the first batch of master tapes boarded a flight to Tokyo, and the project's progress and expenses are all within plan!"

On the other end of the phone, Eri paused for a moment, her tone becoming extremely serious, even carrying a hint of admiration.

"Takuya, thank you. Without you, I might have really come back crying."

"Silly girl," Takuya's voice softened, "I can't bear to see my girlfriend suffer outside."

The words "my girlfriend" made the person on the other end of the phone pause for a moment, followed by an indescribable sweetness.

After hanging up the phone, Takuya called his assistant into his office.

Next up is the sales data for this month that was ordered yesterday.

"The RPG masterpiece, Golden Sun: The Lost Age, has sold 700,000 copies domestically in just two weeks since its release, a truly phenomenal success!"

"<Grand Strategy> also sold very well, receiving rave reviews among core gamers."

"Shinobi 2 is also popular among traditional hardcore action gamers, with sales steadily increasing."

The assistant brought back a series of good news: Takuya had already set the release dates for these games for November, leaving the prime December slot to third parties.

This move moved third-party manufacturers who were preparing to launch their campaigns in December and during the New Year period to tears of gratitude, and they all expressed their willingness to continue supporting Sega.

"What about GamePocket?" Takuya nodded, expressing satisfaction with November's game sales, and then asked about the current situation of handheld consoles.

"We've secured the victory!" the assistant's voice rose a notch. "Including third-party developed games, our game library has already surpassed sixty titles! Nintendo's Game Boy, while still struggling, has had its market share squeezed to less than 20%, its game library is far smaller than ours, and its presence is practically nonexistent!"

In this Super Robot Wars that has lasted for nearly a year, Sega has taken a commanding lead.

It appears that Nintendo has significantly reduced its investment in the development of handheld consoles.

Takuya pondered for a moment, then began issuing instructions, "I remember the new arcade board was tested two weeks ago. Have the team that just finished developing <Shinobi 2> take a short break and immediately begin developing the game for the new arcade, striving to create an even more fun action game. As for Team 8, have them simplify <Grand Strategy> and prepare to port it to GamePocket."

"As for the third set," Takuya looked out the window, "We need to speed up the development of Pokémon Gold and Silver. The anime is getting more and more popular, and our game can't afford to fall behind."

The assistant took notes and respectfully relayed the follow-up work arrangements. Just as she was about to leave, she heard Takuya say, seemingly out of nowhere, "Ginza and Akihabara must be quite lively lately, right?"

Takuya's tone was casual, as if he were chatting.

The assistant immediately smiled, "Minister, of course it's very lively. Many people are saying that with such a good economic situation this year, their accounts are accumulating wealth rapidly, and they're already planning where to go on vacation for the New Year."

"Yeah."

Takuya responded with a sound of agreement, and did not ask any further questions, but his gaze became deep.

Lively? That was the final celebration.

A generous year-end bonus? It'll probably become nothing more than a worthless piece of paper.

Last month, the Bank of Japan raised interest rates for the second time.

He kept thinking about the "lost thirty years" from his previous life, which seemed like regulation but was actually a needle poking at the bubble.

Once the stock market crashes, the chain reaction will instantly destroy the wealth of countless families.

That's why Takuya scheduled all of Sega's main games for November.

To outsiders, this move appears to be designed to create space for third-party sellers during the peak sales season around the New Year, showcasing Sega's "big brother" status.

Only he himself knew that he was racing against time with the central bank.

He wants to secure the money in players' pockets, especially the year-end bonuses of office workers, before the bubble bursts.

As for December, that's a "blessing" left for third parties.

Even if players have just received their New Year's money, their overwhelmed parents will likely confiscate it under the pretext of "temporary safekeeping," and who knows when they'll get it back.

At that time, many players who are short of money will turn to cheaper handheld game cartridges and arcades where they can spend only a few hundred Japanese yen at a time.

Seeing that Takuya had no further instructions, the assistant left, leaving Takuya alone in the office.

His gaze swept beyond the bustling city before him, as if he could see, a few months later, the tragic scene of countless stock market investors jumping from high-rise buildings in despair.