Hayao Nakayama and several executives exchanged glances, finally turning their attention to Takuya, signaling him to continue.
Takuya, however, just smiled, holding back: "No need to rush, Father. Everything will be proven once today's Tokyo sales figures are out."
As soon as he finished speaking, the hour and minute hands of the clock tower in the square coincided at the number "11".
On stage, the pokémon mascots, who had just finished a warm-up performance, waved their hands and waddled off backstage.
The energetic host returned to the center of the stage, his voice amplified across the entire square: "Good morning, everyone! Please look at the paper wristbands on your wrists; they have a string of numbers consisting of two letters, MD, and six digits.
This is your lottery ticket!"
Before he finished speaking, staff members brought up a giant red button.
Next to it, a Pikachu mascot, holding an inflatable hammer with "100t" written on it, swayed from side to side, drawing laughter from the audience.
"First, let's announce an exciting piece of data!" the host raised his voice, "As of 11 o'clock sharp, we have already distributed 11,063 wristbands!
That means, this morning, over eleven thousand players have already come to our event!"
On the large color televisions around the square, live footage immediately played of a backstage engineer entering the upper limit number "11063" into the lottery program.
This number made several executives behind Hayao Nakayama unconsciously straighten their backs.
"Next, we will invite five lucky audience members from the crowd to draw the first batch of grand prizes for us today!" The host waved his arm, pointing backstage.
Pikachu, Bulbasaur, Squirtle, Charmander, and a confused Psyduck, tilting its head, each walked out holding a watermelon-sized inflatable Poké Ball.
They clumsily turned their backs to the audience, then one by one, forcefully threw their Poké Balls backward!
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Five Poké Balls traced five parabolas, landing in the crowd.
The area below the stage instantly transformed into a sea of joy, with screams and arms intertwined.
After a brief moment of chaos, a cool-looking young man, three screaming high school girls hugging each other, and a little boy carried on his father's shoulders, all held up the Poké Balls they had "snatched."
After the five lottery guests came on stage, they each took the exaggerated inflatable hammer from Pikachu's hand.
The cool young man decisively hit the button with one swing, the girls giggled and hammered it down together, and when it was the little boy's turn, he used all his might, his face turning red, barely managing to hit the button, his comical appearance drawing laughter from the entire audience.
Five lucky numbers appeared on the big screen.
However, when the host read out the last number, "00071," drawn by the little boy, no one came up to the stage after a long wait.
Clearly, this lucky winner had already rushed home to play the game.
"It seems this friend is eager to go home!" the host joked, "No worries, we'll leave the opportunity to our friends here!
Little friend, can you help everyone out again?"
The little boy nodded vigorously.
This time, he took a deep breath, jumped up with all his strength, and slammed the hammer down hard.
With a dull thud, a new number was born, and this time, a surprised scream immediately came from the audience.
The five winners excitedly ran onto the stage, while the host cleared his throat and said in a mysterious tone: "Our prize is neither a game console nor a game cartridge.
It is – the 151st pokémon, Mew, not yet revealed in the Pokédex – a digital pet!"
First, there was a deathly silence, followed by an uproar of gasps and discussions like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami roaring.
Countless people wrung their hands, beat their chests, and their envious gazes almost set the five lucky winners on stage ablaze.
And those five audience members who helped with the drawing also received a souvenir—a palm-sized, exquisitely crafted Mew doll.
The murmurs of the audience were like ripples on water after a stone was thrown, quickly spreading and finally converging into a turbulent wave of astonishment: "Mew? Is it the blank No. 151 in the Pokédex?"
"Is Sega crazy?! They're giving something like this away as a freebie?!"
For most pokémon players present, this was more than just a prize.
Since the first digital pets were released, they had collected, traded, used Evolution Stones, and gone to the Pokémon Center, putting in great effort to fill their Pokédex from No. 1 to No. 149.
And No. 150 and No. 151 had always been unresolved legends.
Now, this legendary existence actually appeared before their eyes in physical form.
The digital pets in the hands of the five lucky winners on stage had noble purple and white Master Ball-style casings, shimmering with an alluring luster in the sunlight.
Below the stage, countless gazes almost pierced through them.
"Attention, everyone!" the host's voice rang out again.
He deliberately paused, and only after everyone's attention was focused on him, did he announce word by word, "The Mew digital pet can only be obtained today!
From now until 3:30 PM, there will be ten rounds of drawings, one every half hour!
After the event, it will never be re-released!"
The four words "never be re-released" struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.
Envious glances instantly turned into burning jealousy, even carrying a hint of madness.
Some people who were originally just passing by to watch the excitement and intended to leave immediately stopped in their tracks, clutching their lottery tickets tightly.
As soon as the five lucky winners stepped off the stage, they were immediately surrounded by the crowd.
A lady in a refined maid uniform elegantly parted the crowd and bowed slightly to one of the winners: "Sir, my young lady offers five million Japanese Yen, hoping you would part with it."
Five million!
A collective gasp echoed through the crowd.
The winner was the lucky person who had been re-drawn by the little boy.
He froze for a moment, seemingly not yet having recovered from the shock of the enormous sum.
He looked at the Master Ball in his hand, then at the check the maid offered, his Adam's apple bobbed once, and then he decisively handed over the digital pet, snatching the check.
"Deal!"
He didn't even look closely at the numbers on the check, turning around and pushing through the crowd, rushing straight to the nearest bank, afraid the other party would change their mind.
This scene of magical realism left everyone stunned.
A palm-sized trinket, and with a flip of the hand, it was a down payment for an apartment in the Tokyo suburbs.
Now, no one doubted the value of the remaining nine rounds of drawings.
The atmosphere of the entire square completely changed, people's eyes filled with longing and anxiety for the next drawing.
And as expected, the subsequent nine rounds of drawings were all Mew digital pets.
Even the souvenirs given to the audience members who came on stage to help with the drawing—limited edition Mew merchandise—immediately became highly sought-after items by wealthy young masters and ladies, selling for tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of Japanese Yen with a quick resale.
Besides the lottery, the theme songs of pokémon and fatal fury echoed over the square, and pokémon in mascot costumes and cosplayers weaved through the crowd, drawing cheers.
Influenced by the lively atmosphere, long queues also formed in front of the Sega, Sanrio, and Mattel merchandise stalls.
By lunchtime, as soon as the FamilyMart pokémon co-branded bento truck pulled to a stop, it was immediately swarmed by hungry people unwilling to leave the event, who surrounded it so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through.
The entire event square had become a carnival filled with the scent of money and dreams.
The crowd in the open-air plaza had spilled onto the road, forcing police officers maintaining order to set up temporary cordon lines, guiding the audience and pedestrians not to step into the motorized vehicle lanes.
Every hour, when a new lucky winner was drawn on stage, the plaza would repeat a symphony of ecstasy and wails.
The legends of "five million" acted like invisible fuel, continuously feeding the increasingly fervent atmosphere of the event.
But problems followed.
People at the front refused to leave because of the lottery tickets, and players who wanted to buy games and consoles at the back couldn't get in, causing the flow of people in the entire square to almost stagnate.
The Sales Supervisor, drenched in sweat, was anxious, seeing a great business opportunity about to be blocked.
After an urgent discussion with several executives, Takuya immediately had the host announce new rules during the next lottery interval.
"Friends, in order to allow more players to participate in our event, we will be adding lottery registration points at the sales area and the exit of the demo zone after twelve o'clock!" The host's voice echoed through the sound system across the entire venue, "You can register your lottery number, home phone, and address with your wristband.
After registration, even if you are not present, your lottery number will still be valid!
If you win, Sega will mail the prize to you for free and notify you by phone!"
As soon as the news broke, there was a brief commotion in the crowd.
Some people looked pleased; now they could go home for a meal instead of waiting here.
Others were skeptical, whispering to their companions: "Mail delivery? Is it reliable? What if it gets lost?"
"If it's lost, won't Sega give you a new one?" someone nearby retorted irritably, "This is Sega's event; they've already given away prizes worth millions, why would they try to cheat you out of one?"
This statement enlightened everyone.
Thus, as soon as the registration desk opened, it was instantly swamped by the crowd.
The staff were surrounded three layers deep, their hands writing furiously almost without stopping.
People carefully reported their addresses and phone numbers, as if signing a contract worth five million.
The new rule had an immediate effect; many satisfied audience members left after completing their registration, and the flow of people in the square finally began to circulate again.
Of course, a considerable number of people chose to stay, especially families with children, who were more interested in the interactive performances of pokémon on stage.
Before 2:30 PM, the Sales Supervisor in charge of the event, his face flushed, ran into the hotel's observation deck, his voice trembling: "President! Everyone! It's—it's sold out! Thirty thousand Sega MD consoles, including 5,000 Pikachu limited edition bundle packages and one hundred thousand game cartridges, all sold out!"
The office instantly fell silent, and everyone looked at him.
"All of them?"
"All of them! Not a single one left!" The supervisor excitedly waved the walkie-talkie in his hand.
The executives exchanged joyful glances and drained their champagne glasses.
Just as the Sales Supervisor reached for the phone to contact the warehouse for more stock, Takuya stopped him.
"Wait."
The supervisor's movements froze, his face a mixture of ecstasy and anxiety, looking at Takuya in confusion.
Hayao Nakayama also frowned.
He put down his binoculars and asked in a deep voice: "Takuya, what does this mean? Why not restock?"
All the executives present cast confused glances.
Selling out stock was a great thing; they should strike while the iron is hot and sell as much as possible—this was an instinct ingrained in every businessman.
"President," Takuya met their gazes, walked calmly to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the still fervent square below, "Don't you think the headline, 'Sega MD Sells Out 30,000 Consoles in Half a Day on Launch Day,' is even more impactful than the slogans we spent tens of millions on GG advertising to promote?"
Everyone was taken aback.
"The media needs a sensation, and 'sold out' is the simplest and most direct one," Takuya turned around, a slight smile on his lips, "This is free headline news, and it's the most convincing kind."
He looked at the Sales Supervisor, who was still dazed: "No matter how much more stock we bring here, it will only make the square more congested.
But the enthusiasm of those who didn't get a console has been completely ignited.
Now, what do they desire most in their hearts?"
Takuya didn't wait for others to answer, providing the answer himself: "It's to immediately, right now, own their own Sega MD.
If we don't have any here, where will they go?"
He pointed in the direction of Akihabara: "They will take this fervor and rush into every electronics store in Akihabara.
We cannot let Nintendo's super mario bros. 3 dominate Akihabara alone.
I want this wave of Sega MD buying frenzy to directly rush back to Akihabara."
"But… but…" The Sales Supervisor still felt pained; those were all crisp banknotes.
"What we are creating is not a shortage, but a topic," Takuya's voice was soft, yet it clearly reached everyone's ears, "It's the urban legend of 'I was there today and saw the Sega MD sell out with my own eyes.' It's the bragging right of 'Did you get one? I queued for so long to snatch it.' These stories will be carried by the tens of thousands of players leaving today, like dandelion seeds, to every corner of Tokyo.
This is more effective than our publicity staff shouting themselves hoarse.
We need to give the players who bought a Sega MD today time to ferment our publicity for us.
The weekend evening before Valentine's Day, isn't that perfect?"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the others who had fallen into thought: "This 'momentum'—we want it to continue burning, not to be exhausted in a single day.
We need to save some headlines for tomorrow's newspapers and enough momentum for tomorrow's sales.
Haste makes waste.
Perhaps many couples will want to buy a Sega MD tomorrow."
The observation deck was silent, only the clamor from the open-air plaza opposite could be heard.
A few seconds later, Hayao Nakayama was the first to break the silence.
He didn't speak, but slowly began to applaud.
Then, applause erupted.
The executives' gazes at Takuya had changed from initial admiration to thorough respect.
"Good boy." Hayao Nakayama walked over to Takuya, patted his shoulder, and looking at the bustling crowd outside the window, couldn't help but smile, "I'd like to see how brightly you can make this fire burn."
The executives exchanged smiles, their last doubts vanished, and they turned to leave, each handling subsequent matters.
Only the Sales Supervisor remained frozen in place.
He looked down at the quiet walkie-talkie in his hand and finally understood something.
He carefully turned off the walkie-talkie, as if it wasn't a communication device, but a bomb that could at any moment disrupt a perfect plan.