According to the Darkness Exploration Record, once you enter a Ghost Story, all data transmission and communication usually become impossible, leaving you isolated.
'It's a classic horror-story setup.'
But stories are more fun when things are exchanged and collide.
And to make that setup more interesting, I seemed to remember reading in some Ghost Story or another that certain groups at Baekilmong Co., Ltd. had one-time-use emergency call items.
'Is this button one of those?'
Even while my head busily reasoned through it, my mouth immediately started talking.
Because time was critical!
"Are you Group D's leader?"
[Yes.]
"I'm Kim Soleum, a new employee in Group D. I have something urgent to report."
First, just slam the situation at him!
"In 30 minutes, everyone in Group D is going to die."
Even if he got flustered, that couldn't be helped. This was the most efficient way. Calm him down quickly and talk....
[I see.]
[I will receive a briefing for five minutes.]
"...."
Why are you so calm?
Even if having your colleagues wiped out was a routine occurrence in the Field Operations Team... humanly speaking, this was a bit much.
'Is there something wrong with his character...?'
I almost got sidetracked, but the situation was urgent, so I let it go for now. I summarized what had happened so far as briefly as possible and conveyed it.
"An anomaly occurred in the D-grade Tuesday Talk Show."
The employees from another group who had barged into the talk show midway, the abruptly canceled quiz show.
And even the situation with the insane new choir show that had begun after it.
[How many employees remain?]
"Three out of seven. All of Group D is still alive, but at this rate, once the break ends, we'll all die."
Group D's leader responded simply and clearly.
[I see.]
[Try to drag it out for another 30 minutes.]
"...."
Can that even be done?
"I don't think that will be possible."
[Then there is no method.]
He seemed to have a talent for infuriating a dying person within thirty seconds.
'There's no time to waste on a conversation like this.'
There were indeed quite a few employees in the higher ranks of this company's Field Operations Team whose morals and common sense were wrecked, but meeting one in person was infuriating in a whole new way.
'Does he think his own team members' lives are a joke?'
I was about to just hang up and figure something out myself....
"...."
Wait a second.
"If we get another 30 minutes, what changes?"
Why had he told me to stall for time?
[Yes.]
[If there are at least 55 minutes of leeway from this point onward, then after obtaining permission from the Security Team, it is possible to borrow the strongest weapon and entry device that may be taken out.]
In a low voice, he explained matter-of-factly.
[Even if every procedure in this process is handled afterward, it will take around 40 minutes, and it will take an additional 15 to 20 minutes to enter that Darkness.]
"...Are you saying that if that process alone is completed, Group D can be rescued?"
[Probabilistically, yes.]
"...."
A Field Operations Team employee who could use special equipment to enter an A-grade Darkness alone and suppress a paranormal phenomenon?
Someone capable of that was....
'A named character.'
This employee I was talking to right now was definitely one of the employees I had read about in the Darkness Exploration Record!
'And one with a fairly important or memorable role, at that....'
Goosebumps rose on my back.
Several candidates flashed through my head. At the same time, my mind spun taut and fast.
"Stealing equipment from the Security Team is... yes. Impossible, I suppose."
[…? That is correct.]
The Security Team's movement range was limited for the sake of the Ghost Story's narrative plausibility, and its security was extremely tight. According to the setting, it really was impossible.
'But if this person really is one of the employees I know....'
Then there's a possibility...!
I swallowed and asked,
"...May I ask what kind of mask you wear, by any chance?"
If it turned out to be a nickname I knew....
[A lizard.]
"...."
Ah.
So it was you.
"Manager."
The remaining time was 20 minutes.
"...Based on what you just told me, I came up with a plan."
Let's go with this.
[Ah, Mr. Roe Deer!]
The break was coming to an end.
I returned to the talk show set holding one of the water bottles that had been provided in the waiting room.
Humaaaan. Number 2. H-human!
Against the backdrop of the two employees, their complexions having grown drastically worse after being exposed to "choir practice" for dozens of minutes, the host with the old TV for a head offered me a handshake.
[Are you feeling a bit better now? You're ready to gather your strength and help make the best broadcast possible, aren't you?]
"Yes. Thank you for your consideration."
[Ha ha, if a contestant is in good condition, then naturally better scenes will come out on the show as well, won't they!]
Even taking the host's behavior up to now into account, his tone was extremely friendly.
It seemed the effect of the Smile Sticker still remained.
'So far, it's going just as expected.'
I chose my words carefully.
"...You really pour a lot of affection and passion into the show, Mr. Host. That must be why you always create shows that are impossible to look away from."
Maybe because it was an extreme situation, but the flattery came out smoothly and shamelessly, without hesitation.
[What high praise! But broadcasting is, by nature, something everyone creates together. Mr. Roe Deer, you are part of that as well!]
No, not that direction....
"I appreciate your words, but I can't compare to the host who leads a talk show of this scale."
This was the direction I needed.
"Still, I never imagined the broadcast format would be changed so unilaterally...."
[....]
"There's no audience, only recorded sound is being used, the punishment has disappeared.... The number of band members was reduced too."
I remembered the black-and-white broadcast posters in the waiting room.
Every one of them was of a talk show with an audience, interacting with them and unfolding in real time.
If that place was the host's personal space, then....
'There's a high chance this host doesn't like the changed broadcast format...!'
"Overall, it felt as though it had been changed in order to cut production costs."
If he took that as me insulting the talk show itself, my head might come off on the spot. But if I did nothing, I would die all the same.
Do it.
Pretending to glance around the center of the stage, I barely managed to keep speaking.
At the choir conductor with the dead pig's head.
"...Could it be that the reason for this reorganization was that it cost an enormous amount to book that guest?"
[!]
The emoticon vanished from the host's TV.
But it soon returned as a smiling emoticon.
[That is not something a contestant needs to concern himself with.]
"I'm sorry."
Please spare me.
Honestly, I'm so scared I haven't even looked properly at that dead pig's head.
"I was a huge fan of Tuesday Quiz Show, so I'd really been looking forward to participating. I suppose that's why I spoke so rudely. I'm just disappointed it was canceled...."
[Ah, thank you for saying that! But... show business is cold.]
The host's TV screen quietly turned black.
[If this sort of method is what the viewers prefer, then quickly accepting that is also a quality an entertainer must possess....]
"I see."
I swallowed.
"But isn't the viewers' opinion still unknown? ...At least, I preferred the old version. Tuesday Quiz Show, where you interacted with the audience in real time and showed stories full of immediacy."
[....]
"To change it this abruptly and rudely, without even consulting the host.... Ah, never mind. I'm sorry. My personal opinion went too far."
I pretended to hesitate, then added,
"It's just... when we were doing the live broadcast earlier, I had a lot more fun than I expected. My heart was racing too."
[-]
The host stood there silently.
Noise crackled across the TV screen....
Ding-ding-ding!
[…Ah! There are 60 seconds left until filming resumes!]
At the alert tone ringing through the set, the emoticon abruptly returned.
[Now then, let's all keep our energy up until the very end!]
[Mr. Roe Deer, you should go back up to your podium too.]
"...Yes."
[We're starting! 10, 9, 8....]
The host looked at the camera and counted down as before.
But perhaps the conversation with me had left some impression, because he somehow didn't seem as spellbound by the camera as he had earlier.
'Good.'
I think I laid enough groundwork.
After giving the host a nod, I headed back to my podium.
And shortly after that.
[Now then! Mr. Badger.]
[It's finally your turn to give your answer!]
The show resumed.
[Will Mr. Badger be able to become a glorious member of the choir?]
Senior Staffer Park Minseong seemed to have gotten his thoughts in order in the meantime. He wore a somewhat resigned, bitter expression.
I saw his lips move quickly in my direction.
-Thank you.
What was he trying to say? "Thanks to you, I had time to prepare myself...." No, wait a second. Let me say something too.
My lips moved.
The words I was trying to convey were....
-Answer correctly.
"...?!"
The senior staffer stared at me like I was insane.
Well, yes, I understood.
'Rather than becoming a human instrument that survives as nothing but a head and repeats the last thing it said before dying, it would be better to be incinerated....'
But this had to be done.
The senior staffer shook his head in confusion, then looked at the assistant manager.
The assistant manager nodded.
[Mr. Badger? I'll give you three seconds.]
"Ah! Uhhhm, yes. I'll answer...."
The senior staffer squeezed his eyes shut and shouted,
"Number 4, burns!"
[Ooooooh!]
As the recorded murmur of the audience echoed through the studio,
I finally saw it.
Flutter.
Something appeared at the darkened podium off in the corner.
A postcard.
It was that bizarre postcard we had used to enter this place.
I remembered the conversation I'd just had with Manager Lee Jaheon.
-Manager, then are you saying that with that equipment, it's possible to access the Ghost Story through the medium?
-That is correct. However, what I possess is intended for emergency supply delivery, and can only hand over small objects into a Darkness.
-That's enough. Then....
I looked at the postcard.
It slipped quietly to the floor through a gap the lights didn't reach, and then....
A single AAA battery shot out of it at a terrifying speed.
"...!"
That battery closed the distance to the ominous conductor in an instant.
And struck.
One of the silver platters.
-Throw it with all your strength.
The thick platter crumpled as though it had been pierced by the battery.
Physical force that made you question your own eyes.
'As expected.'
I recalled the description of Manager Lee Jaheon in the Darkness Exploration Record.
---------------------=
Employee D
Nickname: Lizard. Final position: Team Leader.
One of the few combat personnel in the Field Operations Team.
In the records, he is mainly written as a gimmick character who brute-forces all kinds of Ghost Stories that require thinking ability and clever ideas using nothing but raw power. ??? : Isn't it that because the body is bad, the brain suffers?
Conversely, it is from the moment this character's physical power stops working at all that you truly begin to feel how completely fucked things are.
---------------------=
If I had directly attacked the conductor with the dead pig's head, I might have experienced that "completely fucked" feeling firsthand.
But what if it was just one silver platter?
'Since he's an employee whose gimmick is "it's a Ghost Story, but physical exorcism actually works," I thought it might just work....'
And my prediction was correct.
The platter was damaged, nearly as though it had been pierced.
'In that case.'
Even while cold sweat ran down me, I smiled in triumph.
[My! Mr. Badger, that is correct!]
Originally, at this point, the correct contestant's head should have been torn off and added to the choir on another silver platter.
But the conductor's reaction to one of his precious "instruments" being damaged was....
[…Conductor sir?]
The dead pig opened its mouth wide.
Its jawbone bent at an unnatural angle, so far that the rotten flesh tore all over.
The prerecorded applause from the audience played mechanically, then cut off in confusion.
[…Mm, it seems our guest has thought of a new playing technique! What kind of astonishing method could he possibly be devising? My heart is racing!]
The pig screamed.
Sound began pouring out of its torn snout....
[…The contestant is waiting. Conductor sir, please welcome him into the choir!]
A h i d e o u s s c r e a m
Bile surged up. WhathorriblethinghaveIdonejustnowwhatabsurdthinghaveIdonehaveyouseenthehive-bugsahIwanttosingwrongjudgmentchoiceasexpected
Praise death upon the throne of pure silver
The band sound covered the scream.
"Hrk!"
This is insane.
Drip. Drip.
Red spots appeared on the podium.
It was my nosebleed.
But I had to cover my ears. I had to cover my ears.... Ah, the band sound was fading....
[You.]
Drip.
[You do not respect the show.]
I raised my head.
In the stillness.
Whoosh.
The great, ominous guest in the center of the stage burst into black flames and turned to ash.
I had seen that happen several times already.
'Incineration.'
The host's own inherent authority, something he carried out personally. In the D-grade Darkness, Tuesday Quiz Show, it was the punishment imposed on contestants who interfered with the progress of the broadcast.
But just now....
'Did a D-grade Darkness... just burn an A-grade Darkness to the ground?'
Something was wrong... wrong.
All I had been aiming for was for the host to explode at the guest's lack of professionalism and storm off, interrupting today's recording.
[As expected, the essence of a show is not a flashy guest, but faithfulness to the fundamentals.]
I looked around.
The staff, the lighting, the band, the recording equipment, the cameras.
They all ignited and turned to ash.
Only the host's old TV blazed with bursting color.
[The joy of witnessing, the delight of communication, the thrill of not being able to predict how things will unfold, the anticipation....]
[You ■■■ producers know nothing of that. You are not fit to create a show.]
[But I! I can do it!]
Like a liberator, the host raised both arms nobly.
Then he turned his head toward me.
[Mr. Roe Deer!]
[Thank you! You've given me a new vision!]
[My mind feels wonderfully clear. Ah... yes! From now on, I should accept contestants for the show every day of the week.]
The host looked me over.
[I can tell. You have talent as a show creator.]
[I do hope you'll join my new talk show as crew as well, Mr. Roe Deer!]
This had gone wrong.
[New staff, a new set, new music, a new season... once preparations for filming are complete, I'll invite you!]
And yet.
[Though it is deeply regrettable that today's broadcast has been interrupted like this... your passionate participation was very impressive.]
[Then I'll see you at the next broadcast!]
It worked.
I blinked.
Beyond my blurring vision, the TV-headed figure in a suit, waving his hand, disappeared....
And in the next instant.
"...."
I realized I was sitting on a sofa in a bright, quiet office.
I turned my head.
The senior staffer and the assistant manager, wearing dazed expressions and bleeding from their noses and ears, were looking at me.
And I realized it.
We lived.
"Waaaaaaaah!!"
"You admirable little bastard, you crazy bastard!"
Amid the cheers and the sudden hugging, I slid limply down onto the sofa.
We lived.
We got out alive...!
"...! Hey, your collector!"
And that wasn't the end of it.
The assistant manager, who had been hugging me, abruptly pulled something out of my suit's front pocket.
It was the Dream Collector.
Inside, it was filled with golden liquid.
The color was different from last time, when I cleared an F-grade, and this was....
"It's A-grade."
"...."
"Roe Deer, you cleared an A-grade Darkness on your second day after joining the company...!"