Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 63 The Tears of the Nation's Beautiful Girl

The B2 level corridor of Fuji Television is usually the busiest transportation hub for artists and staff.

But at this moment, a strange vacuum zone has formed in a corner near the dressing room.

Several assistant directors and makeup artists passing by hurried past along the wall, their eyes darting around, not daring to glance at that corner for even a second.

A sharp crack came from there, and the air seemed to freeze.

"Snapped!"

That was the sound of a hand slapping hard across the cheek.

"Useless thing! Were you dead on stage just now?"

A shrill female voice echoed, carrying a hysterical rage, "Mr. Sanma (Akashiya Sanma) deliberately threw out this topic for you, why didn't you respond? Why didn't you smile? Who are you trying to impress with that deadpan face? Do you think you're here to attend a funeral?"

In the corner, a slender girl was looking down, biting her lip tightly.

She wore a pure white stage outfit, with sequins adorning the hem, looking like a delicate but soulless doll.

Five bright red finger marks on his left cheek were rapidly swelling up.

Rie Miyazawa.

The dream girl of all Japanese men, the most dazzling "national beauty" in the early Heisei era.

At this moment, the 17-year-old girl who shines brightly in front of the camera is enduring the rage of the middle-aged woman known as "Rie's mother" just like a primary school student who has made a mistake.

"Speak! Are you mute?"

Mitsuko—Rie's mother and manager—grabbed her daughter's hair, forcing her to look up. "There's another dinner tonight with Dentsu executives. Wipe your tears clean! If you dare to look miserable in front of that president, I'll beat you to death!"

Rie's eyes were vacant, and tears silently slid down her cheeks.

too tired.

I can only sleep three hours a day, and besides recording shows, I'm always at random dinner parties and drinking sessions.

The mother who once depended on her for survival now looks at her with only calculation and greed, as if she were not her daughter, but a walking check.

"I'm talking to you!"

Seeing that Rie didn't react, Mitsuko became even more annoyed and raised her hand again.

Although the surrounding staff looked reluctant, none of them dared to step forward.

In this circle, Mitsuko Miyazawa is notorious for her shrewishness and difficult nature; anyone who gets involved with her is doomed.

Just as that hand was about to fall again.

"Feed".

A deep voice broke in.

The sound was soft, even somewhat languid, but in that instant, Photon felt as if a cold, venomous snake had crawled across his back.

Kitahara Shin stood three meters away, holding a can of black coffee he had just bought.

He had just finished shooting the costume fitting photos for "Tokyo Love Story," and was still wearing the trench coat that belonged to "Kanji Nagao."

But his demeanor has completely changed.

A slight movement of consciousness.

[Equipment: Sawada's Black Leather Gloves (Activated)]

[Special Effect: The Intimidating Power of the Thugs (Activated)]

Kitahara Shin walked over slowly, the sound of his leather shoes on the floor was dull and rhythmic.

He didn't make any ferocious expression; in fact, he even had a faint smile on his face.

But that's precisely the most terrifying thing.

That was the character "Sawada" he brought to life in "Yakuza Blood"—the madman who could be joking with you one second and then stick chopsticks into your eyeball the next.

Guang Ziyang's hand, which was in mid-air, froze.

She was a seasoned veteran of Roppongi, having seen her share of ruthless characters. But the look in this young man's eyes... was terrifying.

Those eyes held no restraint befitting "civilized society," only a pure, suffocating impulse of violence.

It was as if if she dared to put her hand down, her wrist would break the next second.

Kitahara Shin walked up to the two of them, tilted his head back and took a sip of coffee, his gaze coldly sweeping over Mitsuko's face.

"This is a TV station, not a farmers' market in Adachi Ward."

Guangzi opened his mouth, but the words "What's it to you?" that he wanted to say got stuck in his throat.

Instinctive fear overwhelmed her arrogance.

She recognized the person.

Shin Kitahara, the actor who, according to rumors, actually portrayed himself as a psychopath.

"I...I was disciplining a disobedient artist," Mitsuko managed to explain, but her voice was noticeably weak, and her hand unconsciously lowered.

Kitahara Shin ignored her.

He walked right past the woman and looked at Rie Miyazawa in the corner.

Rie was still trembling.

She looked up, her large, tearful eyes staring in terror at the strange man who had suddenly appeared.

That look in her eyes was terrifying; it reminded her of those ruthless killers, as if they had stepped out of a movie.

Kitahara Shin concealed his aura.

With a thought, the equipment slots were cleared.

The suffocating sense of oppression vanished instantly, and he returned to being just a somewhat indifferent passerby.

He took a neatly folded dark blue handkerchief from his trench coat pocket and handed it over.

"Wipe it off."

Rie paused for a moment, then instinctively reached out and took it.

The handkerchief carried a faint scent of tobacco and laundry detergent.

"My makeup is ruined."

Kitahara Shin pointed to his left cheek as a gesture, then turned around, not looking at Mitsuko, but at the numbers flashing on the elevator screen, and casually said:

"There are many ways to teach her a lesson, but it's best not to slap her in the face."

He had one hand in his pocket, his tone as calm as if he were simply reminding someone "no smoking here," but that calmness exuded a professionalism and coldness that left no room for argument.

"Modern cameras have such high resolution that foundation can't cover fingerprints."

"If it gets swollen and can't be on camera, the penalty for breach of contract is much more expensive than that slap. Besides, the audience's eyes are very sharp. Or do you want something to happen to your money tree?"

This statement precisely hit Photon's Achilles' heel.

For this woman who is obsessed with money, no amount of moral condemnation matters; only the words "pay back money" are fatal.

After saying that, Kitahara Shin casually tossed the empty coffee can into a passing cleaning worker's cart and walked into the elevator, which happened to be open, without looking back.

For him, it was just a minor incident that happened by chance.

The corridor returned to silence.

Mitsuko's face turned ashen, but she didn't dare to lash out again. She glared fiercely at Rie, who was still in a daze: "What are you standing there for? Go touch up your makeup! Do you really want to be on the news?"

Rie clutched the dark blue handkerchief tightly.

The soft cotton fabric feels rough against your palm, yet it brings a strange sense of security.

She watched that receding figure.

The man maintained a certain distance throughout.

This cold, distant feeling was just right for Rie, who had been surrounded by all kinds of gazes since childhood and was already allergic to excessive attention.

"Kitahara...Nobu..."

She silently repeated in her mind the name that the security guard had been whispering about.

"Let's go! What are you spacing out for!"

Photon impatiently tugged at her.

Rie stumbled as she was pulled, but this time, she didn't flinch as she usually did.

She quietly slipped the handkerchief into the pocket of her skirt, pressing it against her thigh, as if she could still feel a trace of its lingering warmth.

"Thanks."

Her voice seemed to blend into the wind, and only she could hear it.