dognovel Chapter 219 Residue
Chapter 219 Residue
(Thanks to "影梦星蓝" for the God-level certification and ten consecutive update reminder tokens! Thank you to "爱吃里昂土豆的牧十娘" for the God-level certification! Thank you to "txxnd" for the God-level certification! Thank you to "呼吸急促的何恩怨" for the God-level certification! And thank you all for your continued support!)
(Today is a day of frequent flyers~ The plot has reached a climax, and I hope to show the extravagance and cruelty of this era through the perspectives of various characters from the bubble era. So I've arranged three chapters of 10,000 words each for today~)
Late January 1990.
Nikkei Average: 30,120 points
Tokyo, Shinbashi Station West Exit.
The black plastic handset slipped from Kudo's slippery fingertips. It landed on the metal coin-operated machine, dangling back and forth in mid-air by a spiral telephone cord.
The dial tone, mixed with the sound of rain outside, pounded against his unfocused pupils.
Kudo pushed open the folding glass door of the public telephone booth.
The icy winter rain lashed against his face. He blindly followed the flow of people leaving get off work, inching forward. His shoes splashed through puddles, raising dusty rainwater that soiled his leather shoes, which he usually polished three times a day.
He made no response to this.
The extremely bland ultimatum from the Daiwa Securities salesperson kept replaying in my mind.
At 3:00 PM sharp, the account triggered forced liquidation. The five million yuan I had swindled from my uncle in the countryside two weeks ago to save my life, along with the public funds I had previously embezzled, had completely vanished in the continuous decline of the market.
The audit deadline for the misappropriation of public funds to cover the deposit is tomorrow morning at nine o'clock.
A five million yen hole. He couldn't come up with the money.
He stepped off the Yamanote Line train and followed the flow of people out of the ticket gate at Shinjuku Station.
The red neon sign on Kabukicho Ichiban-gai short-circuited in the winter rain, emitting a faint crackling sound. A few clusters of pale blue sparks flickered on the edges of the rusty iron frame. Rain dripped from the faded plastic awnings and splattered onto the asphalt.
The laughter and chatter of people on the street talking about year-end bonuses and New Year's lucky bags made him feel suffocated. Like a stray dog desperately trying to escape the light, he unconsciously veered off the crowded main road and aimlessly walked into a dark back alley.
The dark blue custom-made trench coat was already completely soaked by the rain, clinging heavily to my back and emitting a foul, musty smell of cheap wool that had become damp. With each breath, my lungs inhaled a strong odor mixed with rotting kitchen waste and rusty metal.
He heard a dull thud coming from deep within the alley.
"Bang."
Human skeletons crashed heavily against the red brick wall.
Kudo slowly stopped walking.
Ten meters away, a young man in an expensive Italian casual suit was being held down in a puddle by two yakuza members wearing black raincoats.
"The deadline for repayment is 3 PM today," the man in black said calmly. He raised his right foot, clad in a military boot, and stepped on the young man's right hand.
"However, I don't think you can pay it back."
The bottom of the leather boot was pressed down hard.
"Click."
The extremely crisp sound of finger bones breaking echoed through the rainy alley.
The young man let out a bloodcurdling scream. His body thrashed violently twice in the muddy water, like a fish thrown onto the shore.
"Tomorrow morning, the ocean-going fishing boat at Dahei Wharf." The man in black spat, landing on the young man's cheek. "Your kidneys and corneas are barely enough to cover the interest on half a million US dollars."
The sound of footsteps echoed through the puddles.
The only sound in the alley was the patter of raindrops hitting the metal trash can.
On the bustling street outside the alley, a pachinko parlor's external speaker was blasting the million-selling hit song of a popular twin idol group at maximum volume. The sweet harmonies, devoid of any gloom, were shattered by the cold wind and drifted into the dark alley filled with the stench of blood.
"Stop! Stop! Lonely tropical fish..."
Looking at the bag of trash soaking in the water in front of him, Kudo dragged his stiff legs and slowly moved out of the shadows.
He walked over to the piece of trash.
The trash lay face up in the puddle, his Keio University baseball jacket stained black with mud. His right ring and little fingers were twisted at an angle completely contrary to physiological structure. Pale bone fragments pierced his skin, exposed to the cold rain.
Blood flowed down his fingertips, slowly spreading a dark red film in the puddles.
Garbage gulped down the rainwater, his chest heaving violently. He turned his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Kudo.
"Smoke..." Garbage's voice was so weak it seemed it might stop at any moment.
Oh, it can talk. So it's a person.
Kudo blankly reached into the pocket of his soaked trench coat. He pulled out a half-pack of Seven Stars cigarettes, slightly wrinkled from being warmed by his body heat. He took one out and put it in the young man's mouth. He then lit one up himself.
The roller of the plastic lighter rubbed together a few times. A weak flame flickered in the wind and rain.
He leaned over, lit the cigarette in the young man's mouth, and then lit his own.
The bitter smell of burning tobacco temporarily suppressed the stench of blood in the alley.
Kudo leaned against the damp red brick wall, his legs losing all strength. His body slowly slid down the rough surface, finally collapsing into the puddle of water mixed with blood and mud.
No one spoke.
In the dimly lit, rain-soaked alley, only the faint, distorted sweet singing from the outside world echoed in the cold air.
The rain continued to fall. Large raindrops pounded against the rusty metal frame of the fire escape next to it, producing a chaotic, metallic echo.
A discarded, clear plastic bag floats on the surface of a murky puddle. It slowly spins in the tiny eddies created by the rainwater.
Kudo stared blankly at the plastic bag.
Throughout his life, he desperately tried to maintain the facade of a mid-level manager in a trading company, fawning over his superiors, putting on a brave face for his wife, and posing as a successful urbanite in front of his relatives in the countryside. He sealed away his inner melancholy and fear, living a wretched existence in society like a comical deformed man.
Now, this disguise has been completely torn off.
He felt that his physical existence was no different from that plastic waste floating in the sewage. The so-called "human life" had become completely elusive at this moment.
He has completely lost the right to live as a human being.
Outside the alley entrance, the pink neon sign of a cheap love hotel was flashing rapidly.
A blinding pink and a sickly green halo alternated as it splashed into the alleyway, casting a mottled reflection on the puddles. A sudden burst of light swept across the young man's mangled hand. Dark red blood continued to seep out, mingling with the rainwater and flowing silently down the slope of the ground towards the filthy metal grating of the sewer.
The young man held the cigarette in his intact left hand. The butt burned slowly in the wind and rain. A long, grayish-white ash trembled in the breeze. Finally, the ash fell off, landed in the mud, and vanished instantly.
The crimson sparks approached the filter tip. The scorching heat burned the young man's index finger.
His fingers twitched slightly. The cigarette fell to the ground.
"hiss--"
The spark touched the water, making a very short, faint sound before extinguishing completely.
No one moved.
The chill penetrated Kudo's soaked wool coat, like an icy awl piercing his very bones. He trembled violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
The young man beside him was breathing heavily and erratically. The high fever caused by the trauma was rapidly taking away his body temperature.
They sat side by side, slumped between rotting kitchen waste and a metal bucket.
The collapse of external stock market indices, the demands for margin payments, the expectations of elders—those vast and harsh social rules seemed incredibly distant at this moment. In this corner filled with stench and coldness, they found a paralyzing tranquility.
They fully accepted their status as waste.
The neon light tube at the alley entrance emitted an extremely piercing crackling sound, bursting into a tiny spark. The pink halo instantly went out.
The alleyway was shrouded in deep shadow.
The cold rain turned into even finer sleet.
After half an hour of numbness and freezing, the young man used his intact left hand to support himself on the muddy ground and sat up with great difficulty. His back leaned against the cold red brick wall.
"Katayama." The young man's voice was as weak as a whisper. "Keio University Faculty of Economics... fourth year."
Kudo turned his head blankly.
"Kudo. Graduated from the Faculty of Commerce, Meiji University." His voice was equally numb. "Section Chief, Daido Trading Company."
Katayama's eyes were vacant, his gaze passing over the darkness at the alley entrance, as if he were still watching the world that had buried him.
"I originally... built an extremely sophisticated pricing model." Katayama's gaze passed through the darkness at the alley entrance, his voice as weak as a whisper, "Based on the Black-Scholes equation, ha... I borrowed half a million dollars from the Yakuza and poured it all into forward call options."
Katayama raised his broken right hand, watching the rain wash over the pale bone fragments.
"But what's the use of being so accurate?" He forced a bitter smile that was more like a grimace. "When the market crashes, those market makers just unplug the internet. With the liquidity interface cut off, hedging orders simply can't be sent out... Even though my model is perfect... My model has no problems..."
Kudo took a deep breath of the cold, stale air. A sharp, burning pain shot through his lungs.
"I... embezzled company funds." Kudo's fingers, holding a cigarette, trembled violently, and ash fell into the puddle. "A full five million yen. I thought it would rebound if I just held on for one more day... but what happened? Daiwa Securities pressed the forced liquidation button at the appointed time."
He covered his face with his hands, his voice trembling with suppressed sobs.
"It's all evaporated... The audit department will discover that huge hole as soon as they start work at nine tomorrow morning..."
Muddy water mixed with tears, constantly overflowing from between Kudo's fingers. His shoulders, which he always tried so hard to maintain a respectable appearance, were now heaving violently in the cold wind.
Katayama leaned against the rough red brick wall, quietly turning his head away.
He did not offer any words of comfort.
He simply stared with his empty eyes at the completely devastated section chief of the trading company beside him.
A sudden, excruciating pain shot through the broken finger bone.
Katayama's body convulsed uncontrollably. His intact left hand gripped the ground beside him tightly. His fingernails scraped against the rough asphalt, making a very faint "rustling" sound.
The faint noise startled Kudo, who was standing nearby.
Kudo's sobs gradually subsided. He slowly lowered his mud-covered hands and sluggishly turned his head.
Their eyes met through the rain.
Class, age, and education were all crushed in that moment. In each other's unfocused pupils, they saw the same deathly stillness.
"I don't want to go to that fishing boat." Katayama looked up at the narrow strip of night sky above the alley, tinged purple by the city lights. "I heard... the view from the top floor of the Keio Plaza Hotel is amazing."
Kudo supported himself on his knees and slowly stood up.
"Let's go."