HPDBC Chapter 123 The Queen's Test
Chapter 123 The Queen's Test
Chapter 123 The Queen's Test
On the morning of the fourth day, the atmosphere at the Kyoto Photography Studio had clearly changed.
If the film set a few days ago was a noisy, rough battlefield of masculinity, then today, it's as if the place is subdued by some kind of invisible rule.
The staff walked with lighter steps, and even the usually loud lighting technicians started whispering when adjusting equipment.
Because today, the legendary "Yakuza wife" Ichii Iwashita Shima joined the crew.
For Kyoji Sanada, played by Shin Kitahara, this was also a fateful day.
As arranged in the script, today he will step into the "main family" gate, which symbolizes the highest power in the Yakuza, for the first time.
This is not only a crucial step in the character's rise to the top, but also the beginning of actor Shin Kitahara's head-to-head confrontation with this Showa-era film queen.
He stood outside the entrance of the set, straightened his gray suit, and took a deep breath. The scent of incense and old wood filled his nostrils, instantly making his nerves tense.
The wooden floor of the Kyoto studio was polished to a shine, reflecting the row of stark white lights overhead.
Iwashita Shima sat on a folding chair at the edge of the set, holding a sandalwood fan in her hand and idly waving it.
She was dressed in an elegant light blue outfit during her visit, and her hair was neatly styled.
Although filming hasn't started yet, the aura of a "leading lady of Toei" has already created an invisible wall separating her from the noisy staff around her.
She arrived a few days late.
Her schedule was too full beforehand, so in order to catch up with the filming here, she had to take the Shinkansen overnight from Tokyo.
I thought that without her around these past few days, the new idol would definitely be in for a rough time by these old fogies from Kyoto.
"How's the new Kitahara-kun?"
She closed her fan and asked the costume designer who was adjusting her skirt.
The costume designer is an older woman who has worked at Toei for twenty years. She's the most gossipy person and finds fault with everyone.
But this time, she stopped what she was doing and actually smiled.
"That's good." The older woman lowered her voice. "That kid is sensible and down-to-earth. He sparred with Mr. Sato (the action director) the other day and was very confident. Mr. Matsukata even took him to Pontocho for drinks yesterday."
Iwashita Shima raised an eyebrow.
She knew Matsukata Hiroki too well.
He was a well-known "Showa era remnant," very conservative at heart, and believed in the old rules of "fist and drinking capacity."
Over the past ten years, there have been no more than two juniors whom he would willingly take out for drinks.
Generally speaking, it would be impossible for young actors from Tokyo to integrate into the Kyoto entertainment circle, which is full of the smell of sweat and tobacco, without going through a lot of hardship in a month or two.
This kid has only been here for three days?
"That's interesting."
She looked at Kitahara Shin, who was in the distance confirming the positioning with the lighting technician.
The young man, wearing a slightly oversized gray suit, was listening to the lighting technician speaking in a thick Kansai dialect.
He listened attentively, nodding occasionally, leaning slightly forward with a low posture, but keeping his back ramrod straight.
He doesn't seem like an idol who's here to gain prestige; he seems more like a young hoodlum genuinely struggling to make a living in this quagmire.
"All departments, prepare! Clear the area!"
The assistant director's loud voice interrupted her thoughts.
Iwashita Shima stood up.
She straightened her collar, the gentle smile on her face seemingly blown away by the wind. The person sitting there now was no longer that kind senior, but the wife of a yakuza who held the power of life and death over hundreds of desperados—Sugita Kayo.
Action!
'
The clapperboard fell.
The camera begins to zoom in.
-
Kitahara Shin stood in the shadows of the corner. He didn't rush into character, but lowered his head and raised his hands, which had been hanging by his trouser seams, to slowly and meticulously adjust the cuffs of his gray suit.
This is his ritual.
No matter how hopeless the character is, in the last second before the performance, he must establish a kind of order that belongs only to him amidst the chaos.
As the cuffs were smoothed out, it was as if the gentle and refined Kitahara Shin had been locked in a cage.
With a slight thought, the [Underdog's Tie Clip] was loaded.
In just a moment, the world became quiet.
My heart, which had been racing with tension, was forcibly calmed down by a cold, unyielding will. It felt like I was submerged in stagnant water, all my fear, hesitation, and cowardice stripped away.
Forced sedation: in effect
If it were an ordinary person, losing emotional fluctuations would result in facial paralysis.
But Kitahara Shin is not.
"Ah—that's right."
He let out a satisfied sigh in his heart.
Without the interference of fear, he could finally release the madman who had been locked up in his heart.
He slowly raised his head.
His gaze pierced through layers of smoke, past the menacing faces of the cadres, and landed precisely on Iwashita Shima's face right in the center.
Iwashita Shima paused for a moment as she poured the sake.
This woman was as sensitive to gazes as a radar. In this room, no one dared to look her directly in the eye.
But that gaze was too persistent and too steady.
Iwashita Shima slowly turned her head, her gaze passing over everyone's heads and locking onto Kitahara Shin in the corner.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
Those eyes were as cold as ice caves, carrying the indifference of someone in a superior looking down on the dead. She was telling him with her eyes: Kneel down.
[Warning: Strong "deterrence" lock detected.]
[Entry 2: Thorn Reflexes (Passive Trigger)]
[System suggestion: Unleash your "violent" emotions to retaliate —]
The system wanted him to retaliate fiercely, to bar his teeth like an enraged thug.
"That's too low-level."
Kitahara Shin coldly commented in his heart.
"The violence the system gave him" is too blatant, like a butcher who only barks. Sanada Kyoji isn't a butcher; he's a mad dog wanting to sleep with his older sister-in-law.
He ignored the system's instructions.
He used that "absolute calmness" to precisely control every muscle in his face.
He didn't glare back fiercely.
He looked at the high and mighty empress, at her exquisite face, at her slender neck.
Then, in a close-up shot, he smiled very slowly.
The smile was very light, very faint, and even a little gentle.
But against those absolutely calm and unwavering eyes, the smile looked utterly filthy.
He was using his eyes to strip away the sacred cloak that made her the "big sister".
"I want to pull you down from that position."
"I want to see you rolling around in the mud."
"I want to eat you."
The scene was deathly silent.
Even Matsukata Hiroki, who was speaking over there, forgot his lines and looked over in surprise.
The sinister aura emanating from this kid could give you goosebumps even from a distance.
Iwashita Shima's fingers tightened suddenly as he gripped the sake bottle.
She originally wanted to teach the newcomer a lesson and let him know what rules are.
But this kid—
He swallowed all the pressure she put on him, chewed it up, and spat it back, turning it into a sticky, creepy "love letter."
That look in his eyes is so dirty and so wild.
The wildness excited her.
Iwashita Shima did not look away.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, and a crack appeared in the dignified mask on her face, revealing a hint of seductive charm belonging to a femme fatale.
Since you want to play this high, I'll play along.
She picked up her wine glass and gently raised it in Kitahara Shin's direction.
That was a silent declaration of war, and also an extremely dangerous invitation.
Kitahara Shin looked at the wine glass.
He didn't flinch, losing his composure.
He maintained that unsettling smile, his tongue making an extremely quick and subtle lick to his slightly chapped lips.
Greed, naked greed.
"Card!"
Yasuo Furuhata shouted, his voice sounding a little unsteady.
"Pass!"
That sound was like a pair of scissors, cutting through the atmosphere that had been stretched to its limit.
next second.
The perverted smile on Kitahara Shin's face disappeared.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and the mad dog that wanted to sleep with the older sister-in-law instantly shrank back into its body.
He stood there, straightened his tie which had become slightly disheveled from his movements, then resumed his gentle and refined demeanor, nodding to the stunned staff around him.
He even yawned, his eyes as clear as a college student who had just woken up.
"You used a little too much force."
He muttered something under his breath, his tone relaxed.
A young stagehand standing nearby felt a chill run down his spine.
That look he just gave him nightmares, but this guy turned back into a good person in a second?
This—this is the real monster, isn't it?
Kitahara Shin was oblivious to his surroundings. He adjusted his breathing and was about to reach for the water.
Over there, Iwashita Shima had already stood up.
She didn't come over to exchange pleasantries like those enthusiastic seniors, and she didn't even glance at Kitahara Shin again.
She simply took out a clean white handkerchief from her bosom and carefully wiped her fingers, which had just been holding the wine glass.
She wiped very slowly and meticulously, her brows slightly furrowed, as if the long-distance eye contact filled with desire and ambition had soiled her hands.
After wiping herself, she casually handed the handkerchief to her assistant, turned around and left, returning to her "vacuum zone" with its silk cushions and no one within two meters.
Cold and aloof, like an assassin who sheathes his sword immediately after finishing his act.
But she paused as she passed the director's monitor.
"director."
The voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable arrogance.
"In the next scene, move the camera closer to the child's face."
As she fanned herself with a sandalwood fan, she said in an extremely calm tone, "He's better suited for close-up shots."
After saying that, she left without looking back.
The surrounding staff were all peeking, looking shocked.
Shima Iwashita is known as the "camera queen" on set.
In the "Yakuza Wife" series, all the lighting and composition always revolve around her, and the male actors are usually just "background" or "consumables" to highlight her.
Did she actively request that the camera focus be shifted to the male lead?
This means she acknowledged that this was no longer a one-woman show, but a true "duel of two heroes".
"call----"
A lighter clicked loudly from the side.
Matsukata Hiroki walked over at some point.
He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and the script rolled up in his hand. He looked at Iwashita Shima's back and then at Kitahara Shin, whose face remained calm.
"Alright, kid."
The veteran actor exhaled a smoke ring, his face crinkling with laughter, his tone carrying a hint of sentimentality only his peers could understand: "In this film, male actors usually only have two fates: either they are crushed to dust by her, or they become her accessories."
Hiroki Matsukata pointed in the direction of the director: "The fact that she was willing to let the director shove the camera right in your face means she's not treating you like a mere accessory anymore. She acknowledges that you're qualified to compete with her for screen time, even—"
The old man narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming meaningful: "She expects you to suppress her."
After saying that, he patted Kitahara Shin on the shoulder, quite forcefully: "To make the 'Empress' so competitive, you've really secured your position as the 'male lead.'"
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment, then smiled.
Even the declaration of war carried a condescending, albeit condescending, air of charity.
but----
Kitahara Shin touched the cigarette case in his pocket, then mentally scanned the black collar icon in the system bar.
That was a defensive play.
Next comes the real attack.
After a full day of shooting, it was completely dark when I walked out of the studio.
The night wind in Kyoto carried a bone-chilling coolness, dispelling the suffocating scent of incense on my body.
Kitahara Shin adjusted his trench coat and was about to walk towards the van when the "big brick" in his bag suddenly started vibrating.
He took it out and glanced at the number displayed on the screen; his previously stern expression softened.
That was a private number I had saved before, belonging to Izumi Sakai.
"Feed?" Kitahara Shin answered the phone, leaning against the car door.
"Um—is that Kitahara-kun?"
The sound coming through the receiver was very soft, and there seemed to be background noise from staff moving things around.
She must have made the call from somewhere in the background; her tone sounded somewhat reserved.
"It's me." Kitahara Shin looked up at the not-so-bright starry sky of Kyoto. "Still up so late?"
Still in the recording studio?
"Yeah, it just finished."
Hearing the familiar voice, Izumi seemed to breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. She paused for a few seconds, as if rehearsing her lines, before finally mustering the courage to say, "Um, Kitahara-kun. Next week—I'm going to Osaka for a concert."
Her voice trailed off, "If—if you're free then, would you like to—meet up?"
'
Osaka. It's very close to Kyoto, only a half-hour train ride.
Kitahara Shin could almost picture her right now: probably hiding in some corner of the corridor, worried about disturbing him, yet unable to resist wanting to confirm it.
He couldn't help but laugh, and the fierceness he used to arm himself on set completely vanished.
"available."
He answered quickly, "To be honest, I just wanted to change my mood."
"Really?" The tone on the other end suddenly rose.
"Of course. Just tell me the specific time and place." Kitahara Shin opened the car door and got in. "You don't need to come all the way here; I'll come to Osaka to find you."
"Um!"
Two obedient responses came through the receiver.
Even though I couldn't see her, I could feel her nodding vigorously on the other end, like a kitten whose wish had been fulfilled.
"Then—then I'll wait for you."
"
"Okay, get some rest."
After hanging up the phone, Kitahara Shin stared at the darkened screen of his phone, a smile lingering on his lips for a long time.
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