dognovel Chapter 166 Strangers on the Banks of the Seine
Chapter 166 Strangers on the Banks of the Seine
June 21, 1989.
Place Vendôme, Paris.
The evening glow bathed the Napoleon Column in the center of the square in a blood-red hue, cast from 1,200 bronze cannons. Around the square, the magnificent 18th-century buildings cast enormous shadows in the twilight, like silent giants watching over the visitors from the East.
A convoy of black Mercedes-Benz cars slowly drove into the square and stopped in front of the revolving doors of the Hôtel Ritz Paris.
This is the "living room" of Paris, the place Hemingway declared he wanted to "live here after he dies."
The car door opened.
The boys from Shenghua College were the first to get off the bus.
They wore dark black stand-up collar uniforms or tailored suits, and their hair was neatly styled. After getting off the bus, the boys simply adjusted their cuffs and stood quietly beside the vehicle.
The accompanying waiters and hotel doormen immediately stepped forward to carry the heavy luggage. The boys nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then stopped paying attention to the trivial matters and instead looked up to admire the Ritz Hotel's iconic Baroque portico.
Immediately afterwards, the girls came down.
They changed out of their school uniforms before getting off the plane and are now wearing high-quality personal clothes, such as custom-made trench coats or silk dresses.
After getting off the bus, the girls didn't linger. They walked towards the hotel in twos and threes, occasionally letting out a restrained giggle. They looked at the surrounding buildings with curiosity or admiration.
The doorman, who had been wearing a professional fake smile and preparing to greet a group of noisy nouveau riche, was stunned.
The quietness and composure of these Eastern teenagers completely exceeded their expectations. They conversed in fluent French or English in hushed tones, appearing completely accustomed to the luxurious surroundings.
They seemed to have become so accustomed to the glamour of Paris that they paid it no mind.
Inside the hotel lobby, the crystal chandelier shone brightly.
The air was filled with the aroma of amber, musk, and aged wood wax oil.
"This is utterly absurd!"
An untimely roar came from a corner of the front desk.
An elderly European man with gray hair, dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit, was slamming his cane against the marble floor. He wore a slightly worn medal on his chest, and his tie was loosely tied.
"I've been waiting for fifteen minutes! Is this the service at the Ritz?"
The old man, speaking French with a heavy nasal accent, loudly berated the front desk manager.
"Get these Asians out of here! Where's my suite? I am Viscount Victor de Valmont! My family has lived here for three generations!"
The front desk manager was sweating profusely and kept bowing and apologizing.
"I'm very sorry, Viscount. But... these two floors have already been booked by Saint Hua Academy..."
"Book it all? Ha!"
The old viscount let out an extremely harsh sneer, his gaze sweeping contemptuously over the students quietly checking in in the lobby.
"A bunch of monkeys from the Far East, thinking they can buy Versailles with a little money? Look at them, they probably don't even know how to hold a knife and fork! It's a disgrace to Paris!"
His voice was loud and echoed in the empty lobby.
That's real rudeness.
Ayako Yoshino and Reiko Isokawa, who were talking, stopped what they were doing. Several boys frowned, straightened their cuffs, and showed a hint of displeasure in their eyes, but out of good manners, they did not show it on the spot.
To them, this rude roar sounded like the barking of a stray dog on the street.
The air freezes.
A crisp sound of high heels broke the silence.
Satsuki stepped out from behind the crowd.
She took off her trench coat, revealing a black velvet dress underneath, and a simple pearl necklace around her neck.
She walked straight up to the old man who was still roaring and stopped.
She showed no anger, nor any shame or annoyance at being offended.
Satsuki simply tilted her head slightly, gazing at the angry viscount with an almost pitying look.
"Monsieur." (Sir)
She spoke.
It was impeccably standard French, even possessing a certain old-fashioned courtly charm (Versailles accent). The pronunciation was melodious and the intonation elegant, even purer than the old Viscount's French with its provincial accent.
The old viscount paused for a moment, instinctively stopping his hand from waving his cane.
Your tie is crooked.
Satsuki extended her hand, which was wearing a white glove.
Before the old viscount could react, she had already gently pinched the loose Windsor knot, her fingers deftly twisting and pulling.
The previously crooked tie instantly became straight and upright.
"It seems rather contrary to the Valmont family's tradition for a gentleman to be loud and disrespectful in front of ladies."
Satsuki withdrew her hand and casually patted a speck of dust off his suit collar.
The movements were as natural as if he were treating an ignorant servant.
"Furthermore, we booked this place not to show off."
Satsuki said with a smile, her gaze sweeping over the students who were waiting quietly.
"It's just because we need some private space to avoid being disturbed by some... ill-mannered noise."
"I believe that you, as Viscount, can understand our feelings, can't you?"
The old viscount's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red. He opened his mouth, looking at the little girl who was only as tall as his chest. Her composed demeanor gave him the illusion of facing a superior.
That was an absolute suppression in terms of aura.
It is a form of dominance that is older and more arrogant than bloodline, belonging to capital.
Satsuki turned her head and looked at Fujita Tsuyoshi standing to the side.
"Fujita."
"Yes, young lady."
"This old gentleman seems impatient from waiting. That's very rude."
Satsuki pulled a brand-new five-hundred-franc banknote from her handbag.
She didn't give it directly to the old man, but instead held it between two fingers and gently placed it into the shirt pocket of the receptionist next to her.
"Take this viscount to get a glass of the finest brandy. It's on me."
After saying that, she turned and walked towards the elevator, without even glancing at the old man again.
"Let's go, Ayako, Reiko. The air here is a bit stuffy."
Behind them, the old viscount stood frozen in place, his cane trembling slightly. The Saint Hua boys around him didn't speak, but a mocking smile curled at the corners of their lips. They then straightened their collars and followed as if nothing had happened.
The lobby has returned to normal functioning.
The hotel staff, who had previously viewed the group with prejudice, now looked at the teenagers with completely different eyes.
Here, the Japanese yen is more than just money.
It is a new title.
……
Night falls.
The streetlights of Place Vendôme illuminated the arcades, making them shine with golden light.
L'Espadon (Swordfish) restaurant.
This Michelin-starred restaurant, located inside the Ritz Hotel, was booked out by St. John's College tonight.
Beneath the enormous crystal chandelier, a long dining table was covered with a snow-white linen tablecloth, upon which were placed silver candlesticks and vibrant red roses.
The waiters, like gliding ghosts, brought out one exquisite French dish after another to the table.
The first course was "Burgundy-baked snails".
The golden butter was still sizzling, releasing a rich aroma of garlic and herbs.
"The garlic flavor in this Burgundy escargot is a little too strong."
Ayako Yoshino put down the pliers and gently dabbed her lips with a napkin.
"However, it pairs well with this 1982 Montrachet. The acidity of the white wine perfectly balances the richness of the butter."
Reiko Aesokawa, sitting next to her, cut a small piece of foie gras and put it in her mouth, looking quite pleased.
"yes."
Reiko pointed to the carved walls and gilded decorations around her.
"And I heard that this restaurant used to cater exclusively to royalty. But now the French government has to raise money by issuing bonds to renovate the Louvre. There's a touch of bittersweet 'decline' in the taste of this foie gras."
The girls around him let out a series of restrained laughs.
That laughter was filled with the sense of superiority of being a "sugar daddy".
Satsuki sat in the main seat.
The escargot on the plate in front of her had gone cold, with the butter solidified around the shell.
She didn't touch the knife and fork.
Her gaze passed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and landed on the square outside.
There stands the famous Vendôme Column.
It was cast by Napoleon using 1,200 captured Russian and Austrian cannons to commemorate his victory at the Battle of Austerlitz. At the top of the column, a bronze statue of Napoleon, dressed in the robes of a Roman emperor and holding a statue of Victory, gazes down upon all of Paris.
"Napoleon..."
Satsuki murmured the name softly.
In those days, this emperor conquered Europe with cannons and blood, and cast the spoils of war into this pillar.
And now, this group of teenagers from the East are sitting at his feet, "conquering" the city in another way, using exchange rates and checks.
"It really looks like it."
Satsuki picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth, which was not greasy.
The cannon will rust and will be knocked down.
Exchange rates fluctuate, and bubbles burst.
This sense of conquest built on money, like that bronze pillar, seems indestructible, but is actually too fragile to withstand a storm.
"Satsuki, aren't you going to eat?"
Ayako leaned closer and asked with concern.
"This foie gras is very tender."
I'm full.
Satsuki put down her napkin.
"It's a bit too sweet."
……
It's late at night, 11 p.m.
The Ritz Hotel, Top Floor Royal Suite.
The huge French windows were pushed open, and a strong wind blew across the terrace, ruffling Satsuki's nightgown.
She stood barefoot on the cold stone slab, holding a glass of water in her hand.
Place Vendôme downstairs had fallen silent. The shop windows of the luxury stores were still lit, illuminating the empty street.
Sudden.
A loud engine noise shattered the tranquility of the night.
A double-decker tour bus wobbled into the square and stopped by the roadside.
The car door opened.
A group of middle-aged Japanese men, dressed in suits, with crooked ties and flushed faces, stumbled down the stairs. They were an incentive tour group from a major trading company, and had clearly just had a few drinks at the Moulin Rouge or Crazy Horse nightclub.
"Hey! Tanaka! Is this Napoleon's pillar?"
"Wow, that's so tall! It's even longer than our club president's golf club!"
"Hahaha! Come on! Let's all sing together!"
Someone started it, and a group of drunken men, arm in arm, began shouting in this most sacred square in Paris.
"I am walking, blue and white..." (I will leave with pale cheeks...)
That's "Subaru" by Shinji Tanimura.
This song, which was extremely popular during Japan's bubble economy era, now plays in the dead of night in this foreign land, carrying a sense of absurd, out-of-tune tragic grandeur.
The singing echoed in the square, startling a flock of pigeons.
Several Frenchmen passing by frowned, walked away quickly, and muttered something under their breath.
Satsuki stood on the high terrace, looking down at her compatriots who were behaving so disgracefully.
They waved their arms, urinated on the bronze pillar, and shouted company slogans as if they had really bought the world.
"It's so noisy."
Satsuki said softly.
She splashed the water from her glass downstairs.
The water droplets scattered in the air, turning into a silent rain that disappeared into the darkness, but did not extinguish the vain enthusiasm below.
"This false prosperity."
She went back to her room.
"Bang."
The heavy French windows were slammed shut.
The off-key singing, the drunken revelry, and the bubble illusion built with money were all shut out of the window.
The room was deathly silent.
Only the crystal chandelier gleamed coldly in the darkness, like a pair of indifferent eyes watching this era that was about to reach its mad peak.