Does 'Happy Money: The Japanese Art Of Making Peace With Your Money' Have A Happy Ending?

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

A burglar breaks into our home, taking my mother-in-law and me captive. He stabs my mother-in-law's eyes, blinding her. Then, he slices her tongue and strips her, even putting on a live stream to air the whole thing. He claims that he'll auction my mother-in-law's organs if we can't pay the ransom of ten million dollars. The live stream infuriates the Internet, and everyone starts searching for my husband, the city's wealthiest man. No one knows he's on a luxury cruise ship, holding an engagement ceremony with his childhood friend. He snarls, "What a dumb excuse to trick me out of my money! I'll burn the money for them when they're dead!"

After I resign from a private company and move to work at an overseas company, my salary has increased by leaps and bounds. My wife, Vivian Spencer, who's always been smart about money, suggests that I turn in all of my salary. At the same time, she will decrease my allowance. Her reasoning is that she needs to use my salary on our family's daily expenses, so she can't spare me a single cent. As I watch Vivian record all the expenses dutifully, I can't resist asking, "What about your salary, then?" Vivian replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm saving it up for our retirement pension." I don't bother responding afterward. Since then, I start spending every single cent of my salary, as per Vivian's suggestion. When Vivian notices the stream of packages being delivered to our home, she finally can't take it anymore. Upon hearing her question, I tell her happily, "You were the one who said that my salary is meant for our family's expenses!" Vivian exclaims in shock, "What sort of family do you think we are? As if we can afford to spend this much money every month!" What a joke. It turns out that Vivian knows that a regular family's expenses can't possibly drain every single cent of my salary in one go.

I married someone two years ago. From then on, I lived a happy life. Thankfully, I did not have to deal with a mother-in-law and did not have to work. I even got two hundred thousand dollars from my husband every month as pocket money. Even my best friends lived the high life because of me. But today, right after I got my allowance, I got a call from the police station. They told me to pick my husband up from there.

In the third year I've decided to support my girlfriend, Iris Fulton, by opening a flower shop, she has gone into bankruptcy once again. The first time she went bankrupt, I sold the house my grandma had left for me so that I could clear the debt of 700 thousand dollars. The second time she went bankrupt, I was able to locate the bank passbook Mom had left for me as a wedding gift. That was how I paid back one million and six hundred thousand dollars. The third time Iris has gone bankrupt, however, I can only grip the note with my filthy rich dad's phone number while staring at her lost and dazed expression. At that time, I'm debating whether or not I should call him. But that night, I accidentally notice the chat history on Iris' group chat that's displayed on her tablet. "Hey Iris, how many figures are you going to fill into the sum of the bankruptcy contract that's supposed to be cleared this time?" "Let's put ten million dollars. Otherwise, that flower-selling plaything will be able to clear the debt in one go. It'll make things very boring." "As expected of you, Iris! I heard that the plaything waters flowers in the morning and waters your 'flower garden' at night. You're never tired of him, are you?" I put down Iris' tablet before calling my dad right away. "You want me to take over the family business and marry your student, right? Fine, I'll do it. Get your men to pick me up in three days."

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.