Chapter 125: Ch 125: A different way out
I didn’t know.
How vast and overwhelming the talk show set would look from the
perspective of a palm-sized stuffed doll.
How everything could appear unnaturally massive, and what kind of
pressure it would bring to be unable to blink or even struggle.
Especially.
If the eerie host, with a television in place of a head, loomed over me,
casting a massive shadow.
And when that voice, so vividly real, echoed—
Now then, let us welcome today’s guest!
’~~!’
The vibrations rattled through my stuffing like an earthquake.
But no matter what state I was in, the talk show continued.
’Guest...’
The vintage stage lights flickered as the door swung open.
A grotesque ghost story—one I had personally suggested in a meeting,
calling it ’a fantastic idea’—stepped onto the stage and took its seat.
Or rather, the staff carried it in and propped it up in the guest’s seat.
Because it was merely a vaguely human-shaped figure made of wooden
sticks.
The Crimson Scarecrow!
Its head was wrapped in cloth, crudely scrawled with facial features in red
marker—eyes, nose, and mouth, drawn with careless, slashing strokes.
The rain had smudged the markings, making it appear even more
nightmarish.
A monster said to lurk in a cornfield the size of a city, luring people in until
they lost their way—then, once night fell, hunting them down one by one
until they vanished.
An entity derived from a famous American horror story, turned into an entry
into the <Dark Exploration Records>. It had fit perfectly with the tone of
the show, which was why I had recommended it.
And now, it sat right there.
I could feel a swell of nausea rising.
But, there was nothing inside me.
Because I’m a stuffed doll.
I had no mouth, no stomach, no organs.
[You’ve made quite the journey to be here today. Now then...]
The host stepped closer to the guest, and the suffocating weight of his
presence over me lightened slightly.
The scarecrow, of course, did not respond. Its vandalized face continued
staring blankly into space, but the host carried the interview effortlessly.
[Oh! I hear that the most recent incident involved a group of bank
robbers escaping into a cornfield! How thrilling...]
A chilling tale unfolded—how a group of robbers, fleeing the police, had
hidden in a cornfield... only to encounter the Crimson Scarecrow and meet
a gruesome fate. By morning, the criminals’ entrails had become nothing
more than fertilizer for the corn and the stuffing for the scarecrow itself.
A thrilling, action-packed ’exploration record’, laced with humor and
suspense, while keeping the ethical discomfort to a minimum.
"Wow, that’s seriously creepy."
"Amazing."
The audience gasped, startled and entertained in equal measure, unable to
suppress their laughter even as the horror unfolded before them.
Yes.
It was as if, as long as everyone laughed together, even the most terrible
things could be seen as fun.
Even as the interview veered toward increasingly disturbing stories of
innocent victims, the audience only cheered louder, exhilarated by the thrill.
’They’re contaminated.’
Now I understood.
These people—slowly, bit by bit, were becoming contaminated just by
watching the talk show.
And maybe, just maybe...
I, too, had become contaminated the longer I worked on this talk show...
[What an exciting story! Don’t you all agree? Ah, let’s give a round of
applause for our guest, stepping beyond the cornfield and into the
public eye for the very first time!]
The eerie scarecrow, still nothing more than a red-marked sack, sat
motionless.
And yet, somehow, it now seemed as if its eyes were truly looking at the
audience.
[Now then... It’s time to move on to our next segment... Oh, that’s
right! We introduced this new corner last episode, didn’t we? Do you
all remember, dear viewers?]
Tell Braun’s Friend
All About It!
Wait.
[Unfortunately, my friend wasn’t originally scheduled to appear today,
so he couldn’t come in his usual form...]
[But with his burning passion, he’s returned in a brand-new
appearance!]
The host lifted me.
Dangling in midair, my small, stuffed limbs swayed as his gloved hands
made me wave my arms and nod my head.
Can you see him?
Here is my dear friend!
The audience erupted into laughter, pointing at me, clapping, and cheering.
He lifted me like a puppet and began speaking for me, like a ventriloquist.
[’Now, what’s that, my friend? Aha!’]
[’For the next 100 seconds, we’ll ask some questions! Audience, please
respond!’]
The host mimicked my speech patterns and intonation with eerie accuracy.
My stuffed arm waved toward the audience. People laughed.
I was terrified by how easy it was to get swept up in the excitement.
[Now, shall we hear what my friend wants to ask?]
The TV screen tilted toward me, as if expectantly.
...I couldn’t speak.
Because a stuffed doll has no mouth.
But...
’I can think.’
And my thoughts would be transmitted with perfect clarity.
Just like when I had been able to hear the voice of the ’Good Friend’.
So...
I thought.
’I want to stop.’
[...Aha! My friend is feeling a little nervous.]
[But here we go, the first question—oh, how bold! ’If you could redraw
the Crimson Scarecrow’s face, what would you draw?’]
’I want to stop.’
[’Cute! Oh, what a wonderful answer.’ Don’t you think so, my friend?]
’I want to stop.’
[’Of course, Braun!’]
I kept resisting his words.
But the host, as if completely unaffected, continued his ventriloquism
effortlessly, making the doll move as though I were enthusiastically
responding.
And so, the 100 seconds passed.
[’Hahaha! Thank you! That was the Braun’s Friend segment!’]
[Now, it’s time to welcome our next guest. But first... we’ll be right
back after these messages!]
The cameras stopped.
The stage lights went dark.
...
...
[How dare you disrupt a live broadcast.]
My entire body froze.
The enormous TV-headed figure leaned down and whispered.
[This is unacceptable. Mr. Soleum, have you started thinking with straw
instead of a brain, just like the scarecrow? Did you really try to ruin
my show?!]
A gloved hand pressed down on my head.
My head—my entire being—was crushed beneath the pressure, as if my
thoughts were dissolving into nothingness.
[Heavens... This... is unforgivable.]
[As your good friend, I have done nothing but support your work, and
yet! Mr. Roe Deer, you’re trying to sabotage this talk show right now—
your own workplace, no less!]
[Absolutely unacceptable...]
’There’s something I can’t accept either.’
[...]
’The audience members. They went missing. They died.’
Even as my vision blurred from the pressure of the gloved hand, I kept
thinking.
’After the show ended, you sent them thank-you letters, and inside, you
included instructions on how to meet the guests.’
’You did that because it made for great entertainment when the guests
returned with more gruesome stories, didn’t you?’
[Who told you that?]
[No, that’s not the issue here. Friend, there seems to be a
misunderstanding...]
The pressure on my head eased.
Instead, the gloved hands smoothed out my stuffing, gently restoring my
shape.
[Mr. Roe Deer, my show never forces anything.]
[If someone watches a horror movie and is inspired to commit murder,
is that the movie’s fault?]
The TV screen displayed a crying emoticon.
[Why must my show prioritize anything other than joy, thrills, and
excitement?]
’I’m not trying to convince you.’
I thought.
’So don’t try to convince me.’
And then—
’I don’t want to create, participate in, or be a part of a talk show that
murders people and burns them to ash.’
...
...
[Oh.]
The hand lifted away from my head.
And then.
[I see.]
[In that case, from now on, I suppose you’ll just be
treated as a lowly backstage staff member.]
It felt as if my blood had frozen.
But I had no blood.
So I kept thinking.
’You don’t have the right. I never signed the employment contract.’
Exactly that.
Everything had been verbal.
The contract was only scheduled to be signed sometime soon.
’And you said it yourself.’
’That if I wasn’t enjoying it, you’d let me go.’
I stared at the blank screen of the vintage TV with unblinking eyes.
’So let me go. I’m scared, and I’m not enjoying this.’
The vintage TV remained still.
’I’m not interested in listening to your persuasion or arguments. Just send
me away, right now.’
...
...
Thuk.
Braun placed me back onto the desk.
And then, his voice softened into something... almost sorrowful.
[I just... don’t understand. Think about it, Mr. Roe Deer. Why would
you leave behind something fulfilling and enjoyable, only to return to a
life of misery?]
[Was there something you didn’t like about our show’s working
conditions? No show in the world is perfectly ethical, Mr. Roe Deer...
you know that.]
He whispered.
[Perhaps... your conscience is merely an excuse. Could it be that, deep
down, you were simply dissatisfied with your role as staff?]
[How about a change of residence? Ah, or perhaps... a stronger, more
magnificent form—one that better suits the show?]
No!
’I already told you—I won’t listen to any of your persuasion!’
I’d be trapped if I wasn’t careful. I was a doll now. I didn’t even have my
silver ring. I couldn’t afford to let him convince me...
’I’m quitting. That’s it. This conversation is over.’
[...]
The TV-headed figure pulled back.
[I see what your misunderstanding is.]
[But as your friend, it’s only right for me to grant your wishes.]
His gloved fingers gestured to the staff, as if instructing them to remove me.
[You are fired. Go ahead, leave this wonderful studio behind and return
to your pathetic, dull life.]
[However... there will no longer be a good friend waiting for you.]
’...’
[Remember that. Now, once today’s show ends, you can go wherever
you please. That is, of course...]
His voice turned mocking.
[If you can go anywhere at all, in that stuffed body of yours.]
’You’re the one who put me in this form. Change me back.’
[Oh? And why should I do that?]
’Because—’
[How laughable, Mr. Kim Soleum. You’ve done nothing but act
selfishly, saying whatever you please without taking responsibility for
this show.]
[And yet, when you refuse to listen to my persuasions, now you are
trying to persuade me? How very shameless. Ah, but I suppose that,
too, is a form of entertainment.]
[One of the best kinds, in fact—the joy of watching someone get
punished.]
The staff didn’t place me back on the desk.
Instead, they tossed me onto the small table beside the guest’s chair.
A precarious spot—dangerously close to the edge, as if I might tumble into
the trash bin below.
[Oh, and look at that! The cameras are turning back on!]
Braun’s voice shifted instantly, bright and cheerful again.
A perfect fit for the talk show.
[Now, sit back and enjoy the rest of the show. Think carefully because
this is your last chance.]
[Will you choose punishment, or...]
At that moment—
Pik.
A thin, strange noise rang out before me, accompanied by a flash of light.
Something entered my field of vision.
A pin-thin hole had been punctured in the studio’s ceiling.
And from above, an eerie, unnaturally blue light shone down upon me.
Then—
Pikpikpikpikpikpikpikpik!
More holes appeared in rapid succession.
Stuffing burst from my body.
’Ah.’
Something had...
...Pierced me.
[...!]
Could it be...
Was this the ’Sacred Fire’ bombardment?
No.
’Am I... dying?’
If I died in this form, would I just... die as a stuffed toy?
At that moment—
[Wait...]
I felt a hand grip my plush body.
The host.
He was likely trying to stop my stuffing from spilling out.
But the relentless barrage of precision strikes targeting my ragdoll body
refused to stop.
Pikpikpikpikpikpikpikpik!
My head was severed from my body.
And it fell to the ground.
[...!!]
BOOM.
Krrrrrk-KRRRRK-KRRRRK!
The ceiling collapsed.
A rain of transparent, glowing projectiles crashed down onto the talk show
stage like a meteor shower, destroying the entire set.
In my tumbling field of vision, I caught sight of the host, standing frozen,
gripping the tattered remains of what had once been my fabric body and
stuffing.
Ah.
Just like how I had been momentarily shaken when my good friend was
torn in two...
He also...
* * *
– Kim Soleum-ssi.
"...!"
– Are you back?
"...Yes."
I regained consciousness in the void once again, where nothing could be
felt.
Through the CCTV-like vision before me, I could see that Lee Jaheon was
still on the move.
The only difference now was that the studio in his field of vision was
shaking violently, as if it had been struck by a bomb.
– The ’Sacred Fire’ bombardment has commenced.
Yes. I know...
Because you shot me with it.
"...Did you deliberately target the stuffed doll I was in? To force me back
into this body?"
– Yes.
– The bombardment will continue for another ten minutes, but the current
situation remains high-risk. You must escape this location as quickly as
possible—preferably within the next three minutes.
"...Can’t the host just force me back into a doll again?"
– It is possible.
– However, that Darkness is an extreme phenomenon devoid of balance. As
a supernatural entity fixated on its talk show, the host will likely prioritize
restoring the studio and eliminating the cause of its destruction before
anything else.
Lee Jaheon was moving at an insane speed, his tone utterly dry as he spoke
of something so chilling.
Then, just as emotionlessly, he made another statement.
– Additionally, access to a safehouse has been approved.
"...What?"
– The Coalition has acknowledged that the current situation prevents the
emergency call user from escaping.
– Therefore, Supervisor Kim Soleum, you can now be transported to a
location where you will be safe from pursuit by supernatural entities.
"..."
I don’t know what this ’Coalition’ is, but it’s probably some kind of alien
organization.
– Given the circumstances, the only way to prevent further complications is
to leave this studio immediately and relocate to the safehouse.
So... I could escape the host’s pursuit for a while?
That meant I’d have time to reassess my situation and maybe find a way to
completely sever his ties to me through the <Dark Exploration Records>.
Through the CCTV-like vision, I watched Chief Lizard sprint down the
violently shaking hallway of the studio amidst the deafening explosions.
"...Have you found the exit?"
– Yes.
– While infiltrating the studio again to locate your summoned
consciousness, I reverified the escape route.
"...!"
It felt as if I really could escape.
Whether it was through the ’Delusion Home Shopping’ or somewhere else,
I might be able to make it to that ’safehouse’ they approved, and at least buy
myself some time.
It was a tempting solution, but...
...
I knew the truth.
It was nothing more than a temporary fix.
’This is an extreme and hostile method of escape.’
If I left like this, it felt like I’d be making an irreversible choice against the
host...
’The host... Or rather, Braun might just be able to find me again.’
This escape wasn’t a solution. It was just a delayed confrontation.
And more importantly...
"..."
I recalled the moment just before I was wrenched away from the stuffed
doll.
The sight of the host desperately trying to hold my plush body together as it
was being torn apart.
"..."
Maybe...
"...Squad Leader."
– Yes.
"Are you the type of sentient being that gets easily contaminated by
darkness?"
– No.
’...Okay.’
And one more thing.
"If I die in this body, will you simply return to being Section Chief Lee
Jaheon?"
– If you die within 55 hours, yes.
...In that case.
"Squad Leader."
I swallowed hard.
"Don’t head for the exit. Go to the host instead."
If this was a gamble anyway—
I’d take a direct approach.
"I’m going to try a different way out."