Otaku Translation: Absolute Number One C122

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Chapter 122: A Dreamlike Year

Chihara Rinto’s long-planned "transmigrator's money-making scheme" was now officially underway, marking the resolution of a significant concern. Aside from occasionally glancing at his computer to worry about his hapless apprentice, he once again immersed himself in contemplating how to "defeat himself."

Every action had its pros and cons. Thanks to Hanzawa Naoki, he could now stand tall in the industry, propelling his career into the fast lane. However, there were downsides—could this be the beginning of a decline?

Yet, he harbored no regrets. Back then, he couldn’t afford to lose. If his first major production with Kanto United TV had failed, even if he had a treasure trove of excellent scripts, they would have been rendered useless. He might have been relegated back to producing late-night dramas, losing one or two precious years of his prime, possibly ending up in an even worse situation than now. Hanzawa Naoki had been the optimal and most reliable choice at the time. If given the chance to do it all over again, he believed he’d still choose this drama to break through.

Even if his next opponent turned out to be himself!

He sank into deep thought. Meanwhile, time passed uneventfully until September 29th, the day of the Star Awards ceremony.

The Hanzawa Naoki production team naturally received invitations early on, with key creative personnel and main actors all set to attend.

This was one of the four annual television grand ceremonies and also served as a precursor to the Academy Awards. Based on previous years, winners of the Academy Television Grand Prize had almost always won a Star Award.

The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 8 PM, but there was the customary red carpet event beforehand, featuring interviews and fan support. Thus, the Hanzawa Naoki team began preparations in the afternoon.

Actors applied makeup to avoid unflattering photos, while Murakami Iori meticulously groomed herself, emphasizing her image as a capable businesswoman. She opted for extra-thick shoulder pads, and Chihara was lightly made up to ensure his features wouldn’t appear too blurred on camera.

Once everything was ready, they set off together, heading toward the Koloto Grand Theater in the eastern corner of Minato Ward.

Chihara naturally shared a car with Murakami. Halfway through the journey, the car remained silent. Chihara glanced at Murakami, noticing she was lost in thought, and chuckled, asking, "Are you nervous, Murakami-san?"

"Hmm? Yes, this is my first awards ceremony," Murakami replied honestly, snapping out of her reverie. She then laughed softly. "I never imagined I’d step into the Koloto Grand Theater as a leading figure so soon. Honestly, this was my career goal for after turning forty."

Forty? Chihara envisioned Murakami fifteen or sixteen years later—a stern female producer with shoulders that might rival the Hulk’s, exuding an intimidating aura. Chuckling, he remarked, "We should’ve attended with Tales of the Unusual. It’s already late now."

Tales of the Unusual had performed admirably, but it lacked significant social impact, trapped in the late-night slot. Most of the season’s ratings were abysmal, with a small audience base. By the time ratings finally hit 20%, the season was over, and they hadn’t even qualified for an invitation. Had it started in a better time slot, even without winning, it should’ve been invited. Newcomers often faced such challenges.

Murakami no longer dwelled on Tales of the Unusual. Shaking her head, she smiled softly, "It’s wonderful just to be here now!"

For her, this year had been extraordinarily dreamlike.

She became a producer for the first time, helmed her first television drama, experienced sleepless nights worrying, broke the late-night drama historical record, had her program snatched away, lost her temper in front of superiors, nearly got exiled, changed jobs, produced a national hit drama, shattered the highest television drama ratings record, and earned a nomination for the Grand Prize.

In a few hours, she might receive her first-ever award.

It was incredibly surreal. Even in her wildest dreams, drunk or asleep, she couldn’t have imagined such a reality—a reality more fantastical than any dream.

Lost in silent reflection, she glanced at Chihara, her "career benefactor," hesitating to utter the word "thank you." Given their relationship, it felt too formal. Regrettably, she was an only child; otherwise, she might have considered marrying her sister to Chihara.

He was truly remarkable—young, talented in creation, and possessing leadership skills. Such a person was bound to shine brilliantly. She wondered who his girlfriend was—what a fortunate girl!

Though Murakami had to project strength and competence in her professional life, she was essentially still a young woman prone to occasional flights of fancy. As her musings continued, the car arrived at the Koloto Grand Theater, where crowds thronged visibly from afar.

Their small convoy paused, following the theater staff’s instructions to wait momentarily, allowing those ahead to proceed on the red carpet first. This prevented overcrowding and chaos. The preceding group moved swiftly, and after a brief wait and some adjustments to the entry order, their vehicle resumed, delivering them directly to the theater entrance.

Chihara was the first to disembark, nearly blinded by a flurry of camera flashes. Smiling faintly, he gently held the car door for Murakami—not extending a hand, as treating her with chivalry would displease her.

They proceeded along the red carpet, greeted by enthusiastic cheers from fans lining the path. Few recognized Murakami, but many called out Chihara’s name. He lightly waved to both sides, acknowledging the fervent support.

Following the red carpet inside, they reached a small ceremonial platform adorned with sponsor advertisements and logos.

An outdoor host awaited, smiling warmly, and promptly began the interview segment.

There wasn’t much to say—just expressing expectations for the awards and thanking the audience for their votes. These were standard pleasantries, devoid of substance, primarily handled by Murakami, with Chihara smiling supportively. Mid-conversation, a sudden, thunderous cheer erupted from the entrance—

"Hanzawa, Hanzawa! Look here!"

"Sugano-san, we support you!"

"Hosokawa-san, I love you!"

The roar was so intense that, had it not been accompanied by cheers instead of screams, one might have mistaken it for a grenade thrown into the crowd.

The outdoor host’s attention instantly shifted, stumbling over his words. Chihara and Murakami exchanged a smile.

In terms of industry status, they ranked higher. Sugano Makoto and Hosokawa Sai, no matter how popular, would remain respectful in their presence. However, in the eyes of the audience, the show’s creators didn’t hold much sway. Viewers favored actors, akin to how readers seldom cared about a novel’s author, instead investing emotions in the characters.

Nodding to the outdoor host, Chihara and Murakami chuckled, proceeding into the theater together. The host didn’t detain them, eagerly directing his long microphone toward the entrance, clearly intent on interviewing Sugano Makoto and Hosokawa Sai, the currently hot "national couple."

Chihara and Murakami paid no mind. Actors’ popularity indirectly reflected the drama’s success—a joyous occasion. Entering the theater, Chihara surveyed the venue briefly, noting its lavish Western-style double-tiered structure.

The ground floor seemed to house television program insiders, including nominated teams, presenters, and invited guests, while the upper level accommodated political, business figures, and lucky fan attendees.

Chihara observed, satisfied. Though a recurring award held four times annually, it was indeed one of the most influential accolades in the television production circle—formal and impressive.

Contentedly, he followed the staff to a front-row round table, sitting down. Murakami joined him, curiously gazing around—she had watched broadcasts of the event several times and was somewhat familiar.

She had once fantasized about sitting here. Now, seated within, excitement surged, her eyes brightening further with each glance. Having achieved this once meant a substantial rise in her industry standing. Even without future works, the likelihood of being invited to spectate would remain high.

Perhaps she’d attend all four ceremonies annually, though she certainly didn’t mind!

As they sat there, curious like children, the awards ceremony had yet to formally begin, and the attendees were in networking mode. Suddenly, a voice greeted, "Good evening, Chihara-sensei."

Chihara turned, surprised to see Awata Isao, and quickly stood, politely responding, "Good evening, Awata-san."

Awata Isao chuckled, "Congratulations, Chihara-sensei, and Murakami-san. Breaking the ratings record is an incredible achievement!"

Murakami smiled, unfamiliar with him, while Chihara courteously replied, "All thanks to good fortune."

"Luck is always the modesty of the strong. Chihara-sensei possesses talent. I hope for future collaboration opportunities," Awata Isao remarked, subtly shifting to facilitate photography.

Chihara obliged, smiling for the camera, answering, "Indeed, opportunities abound. We’ll surely collaborate in the future."

Standard social niceties—he currently had Sugano Makoto, whose type matched Awata Isao’s. Naturally, he’d continue using Sugano Makoto, though voicing this outright would offend. Murakami understood, maintaining her smile.

Appearing pleased, Awata Isao exchanged a few more pleasantries before moving to greet another table. A prominent actor, he boasted extensive connections within the industry.

After he left, Murakami sat, softly chuckling, "His demeanor is commendable. Tonight, he’s our competitor." Doctor’s Heart had performed well during the summer season, earning multiple nominations, making it a contender against Hanzawa Naoki. However, no one expected it to win.

Chihara whispered, laughing softly, "Who knows what he’s thinking? No need to dwell on it. Our paths likely won’t cross much in the future." Awata Isao’s EQ was sufficient for stardom; his greeting wasn’t surprising. Some opportunities, once missed, were gone forever—Chihara couldn’t change that.

Murakami, smiling silently, noticed Chihara’s bow tie slightly askew and casually adjusted it. Just then, a roving photographer approached, raising his camera. Murakami and Chihara promptly smiled for the shot.

Attending an awards ceremony came with obligations, though incessant photography was somewhat bothersome.

The photographer moved on, capturing images of industry elites gathered today. Even if unused immediately, these photos might prove valuable later—opportunities couldn’t be missed. Barely had he departed when someone else approached to greet them.

"Murakami-san, Chihara-sensei, it’s been a while."

Chihara turned, recognizing Kurata Shin, TEB’s HR director, feeling a tinge of awkwardness. When he had left TEB, he had voiced harsh criticisms, even conveying threats to Ishii Jiro via this man.

Surprised by his presence, he quickly smiled, "Director Kurata, it has been a while."

Murakami rose, politely greeting, "Director Kurata, good evening."

Kurata Shin gazed at them, somewhat reflective, softly sighing, "Never imagined such tremendous achievements in just half a year after your departure. Those of the newspaper faction made a grave mistake…"

Chihara maintained his smile, not engaging with the comment.

It was too late for regrets. Neither he nor Murakami would ever return to TEB. Kurata Shin, undeterred, focused on Murakami, smiling warmly, "I always believed in you, Murakami-san. You possess immense capability. Now, you’ve proven your worth."

Murakami bowed slightly, softly replying, "Thanks to Chihara’s guidance, I’ve merely been fortunate."

"Fortune is also a skill!" he chuckled, then glanced around, lowering his voice, "Something I feel compelled to mention—there were plans to challenge you. Only the intervention of some senior local faction members thwarted it."

Murakami looked up, surprised, "Challenge?"

"The newspaper faction proposed moving Doctor’s Heart to compete directly with your time slot, though they didn’t insist strongly. Our opposition quashed it," Kurata Shin explained clearly, for reasons unknown. "However, your unprecedented success this time has further embarrassed them. Be cautious with future productions. Next time, we might not be able to intervene."

Murakami was even more astonished. Finishing, Kurata Shin didn’t await a response, adding with a smile, "People from Asahi Television are approaching. Handle them. Murakami-san, Chihara-sensei, we’re not adversaries. Let’s gather sometime. After all, you were nurtured by TEB—a fact that remains unchanged forever."

With that, he departed, smiling. Murakami and Chihara exchanged glances, uncertain why he had shared this—was he currying favor? Seeking their aid against the newspaper faction? Had factional struggles intensified at TEB?

Before they could deliberate, a director from Asahi Television approached, smiling, plunging them into another round of pleasantries…

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