The Sales Department head swallowed with difficulty.
He knew his president's style all too well.
At Konami, once a game caught fire, its ultimate destination was inevitably the gleaming pachinko machine in an arcade.
"Tell the amusement machine division that this is a top-priority classified project. Funnel every available resource to them." Kozuki Kagemasa casually tossed the design document back onto the desk, his gaze ice-cold. "Within three months, I want to see a flawless prototype. Before the end of the year, I want a Castlevania co-branded machine in the most conspicuous spot of every arcade in Japan!"
"Yes! I'll handle it immediately!" The Sales Department head accepted the order loudly, turned, and hurried out of the office.
Kozuki Kagemasa settled back into his broad leather chair, picked up the coffee on his desk that had long gone cold, and took a contented sip.
Sega and Sony were currently battering each other bloody in the console market, pouring money away like water and sparing no expense to fight for the so-called title of "industry overlord."
But Kozuki Kagemasa simply did not care.
What did it matter who won or lost? Konami only needed to stand to the side and sell its games to the winner.
What truly allowed Konami to rake in money by the bowlful and stand unshaken forever were those gamblers sitting before the machines, eyes bloodshot,
their reason gone, endlessly stuffing coins inside.
That was Konami's true way of survival.
Bangkok's financial meat grinder was spinning madly. Hoshino and his traders had stared at the red figures flickering across their screens without sleep for days and nights.
Every second of fluctuation meant tens of millions of US dollars wildly flowing between different accounts.
Yet thousands of kilometers away in Tokyo, the air still carried the biting chill