Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 219 Arrival in Sweden

When Kitahara Iwa and his group walked out of the passageway, reporters from various European television stations had already gathered in the hall.

As soon as Kitahara Iwa and the others came out, flashbulbs went off and dozens of microphones bearing the logos of various media outlets surged towards them like a tidal wave.

"Mr. Kitahara! What are your most genuine feelings as you stand on this land right now?"

"Some European literary critics have pointed out that you are too young and that your works focus primarily on the Japanese economy. Do you feel that your experience and the depth of your work are not yet worthy of the weight of the Nobel Prize in Literature?"

"Is refusing the Japanese government's Order of Culture a deliberate attempt to create a political spectacle of confrontation with powerful nations for this Nobel Prize trip?"

Faced with these provocative questions, Kenichi Sato quickly stepped forward to stand in front of Iwa Kitahara.

But Kitahara Iwa raised his hand and addressed the numerous cameras, saying, "If anyone thinks that recording the suffering of ordinary people is a political gimmick, then I suggest he go stand on the streets of Tokyo for a night."

After saying that, Kitahara Iwa looked at the reporter who had asked whether he was worthy of the position and continued, "Whether he is worthy or not is not for us to decide, but for the readers to decide."

After saying that, Kitahara Iwa ignored the numerous reporters and left with Sato Kenichi and the others.

Half an hour later, the convoy stopped in front of the Grand Hotel Stockholm.

As soon as Kitahara Iwa entered the lobby, Finley quickly came to greet him.

"Kitahara!"

Finley, with a warm smile on his face as he reunited with an old friend, opened his arms wide and gave Kitahara Iwa a solid hug, patting him hard on the back.

"You've finally landed."

Finley loosened his grip, chuckling lightly, "You wouldn't believe it, those accounting guys on Fleet Street were laughing at me in the newspapers not long ago for spending money like crazy. Seeing the entourage you've got at the airport today, they're probably recalculating my year-end bonus tonight."

Kitahara Iwa chuckled, his tone casual like that of an acquaintance: "As long as the year-end report figures look good, even if we make them work a few extra days, they probably won't complain."

"Haha, of course!"

Finley laughed heartily, then naturally stepped aside to make room for him.

Margaret, who was standing at the back, stepped forward and, before Kitahara Iwa could speak, said with a smile, "Kitahara, I'm furious just looking at you. I'm still angry about losing the English copyright to Finley, that unruly guy."

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa couldn't help but laugh: "If it's about copyright, Margaret, you can arrange a time to have a fight with Finley next time."

"I'll pass on the one-night stand; I can't win an argument with him."

Margaret waved her hand, her expression turning serious, and said, "But I reread the translation last night. It's fantastic!"

Then James Walton joined in and said, "Margaret is right."

"To be honest, before I received the manuscript, I thought it was a formulaic post-apocalyptic story."

"After reading the first three chapters, I locked myself in my office and smoked half a pack of cigarettes. Kitahara, we publishers always think we're 'selecting' literature, but this time you've selected us. All we can do is stay out of the way."

Hearing James's remarks, Kitahara Iwa shook his head and said, "It's not that exaggerated, James."

"I was just responsible for recording what happened in the ruins, and you, as publishers, judged that these words were worth printing. No one was selecting anyone else; everyone was just doing their job."

James paused for a moment after hearing this, then smiled with relief.

Upon hearing this, Finley glanced at his watch and smiled, saying, "Looks like none of us need to rush off to any social engagements tonight? Since we're all in Stockholm, how about we find a place for a drink?"

Kitahara Iwa shook his head and said, "Not tonight. I just want to sleep in bed right now."

"However, I can free up an afternoon tomorrow."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, everyone tactfully refrained from further inquiries and took their leave.

When Kitahara Iwa returned to the penthouse suite, it was already completely dark.

Stockholm outside the window is ablaze with lights, the river reflects the city's glow, and drizzle leaves streaks on the French windows.

After settling his luggage, Kenichi Sato took out an exquisitely crafted invitation from his briefcase and said with a somewhat solemn expression, "Teacher Kitahara, this is from the Japanese Embassy."

Kitahara Iwa took the invitation and looked at it.

Inside the exquisite gold-embossed cover was a sheet of paper sprinkled with gold.

The wording carried an official warmth, yet the lines revealed an unyielding bureaucratic air: "With utmost sincerity, I congratulate Mr. Kitahara Iwao on winning the Nobel Prize in Literature. This is an honor for the Japanese literary world and a source of pride for the entire nation."

To recognize Mr. [Name]'s outstanding contributions and to showcase the charm of our culture to the world, the Embassy of Japan in Sweden will host a celebratory banquet at the Grand Hotel Stockholm on the eve of the awards ceremony.

Swedish political leaders and prominent figures from the European cultural scene will be in attendance. We sincerely hope that you will grace us with your presence and join us in this grand event.

The signature is that of the Japanese Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to Sweden.

After reading these lines, Kitahara Iwa remained calm and casually tossed the invitation onto the coffee table.

"This is blatant moral blackmail."

Kenichi Sato, standing to the side, also finished reading the invitation. His brows furrowed and his face darkened. "These politicians are trying to force you to show up," he said. "When I came up here, I glanced at it and saw that the backdrop for congratulating you was already set up in the lobby downstairs. They've invited not only European media, but also high-ranking Swedish officials."

Kenichi Sato sighed, laying out his worst fears: "Teacher Kitahara, if we reject this outright, the Imperial Household Agency will definitely turn the tables on us. Tomorrow's European newspapers will probably be full of articles saying you have no sense of the bigger picture and are deliberately embarrassing Japan on the international stage."

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa asked softly, "How many people are invited to the banquet downstairs?"

"Currently, it has been confirmed that there are 120."

Kenichi Sato answered truthfully, "They are all prominent figures in the political and business worlds."

Listening to Sato Kenichi's words, Kitahara Iwa walked to the French windows and looked at the small bar at the street corner.

The tavern wasn't very big, and a wooden sign hung at the entrance, swaying precariously in the cold wind.

Several commuters, wrapped in old coats, pushed open the door and were quickly enveloped by the warm light inside.

Kitahara Iwa said, "Then let's go to the tavern and make a reservation."

Kenichi Sato was stunned: "A tavern?"

"It only needs to seat twenty people."

Kitahara Iwa explained, "Go and inform the translators of 'The Long Road' from various countries, as well as the columnists who have actually written in-depth book reviews, that they can also invite Finley and the others if they don't mind the commoner's drinks. Tell them that anyone who wants to come can drink as much as they want tonight."

Kenichi Sato took a deep breath, feeling his blood rushing to his head, and asked, barely containing his excitement, "What about the embassy—?"

"He refused in his exact words."

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