Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 119

My hands slipped.

Coins spilled out from the lower half of the torn plush toy.

"...!"

I hurriedly tried to cover it up, pressing the two torn halves of the plush toy together without purpose.

"Brown?"

But, of course, there was no response.

The upper half of the stuffed toy merely slid off the lower half.

"......."

No... no way.

Maybe it’s because I kept looking at it...!

"Brown."

I turned my head, closed my eyes, and brought the toy close to my ear.

And then...

-■■, ■■■■■....

"...!!"

I felt a faint vibration coming from the toy.

It was definitely a signal.

But it was so faint, like the static of a barely-tuned radio frequency.

‘It’s still there.’

It was still there. In that case...

‘The Bloodbath Tub!’

Click. I immediately locked the bathroom door on the train. Then, from the tattoo on my wrist, I pulled out a small, checkered bathtub with golden legs.

The so-called Tub of Youth.

Thump. The bathtub settled on the floor. I carefully placed the nearly-torn plush toy inside and then...

I picked up a box cutter dropped by an unconscious passenger who had failed their ambush attempt.

Without hesitation, I slashed my forearm.

Blood poured from the severed veins, trickling freely.

‘In an urgent situation like this, there’s no time for alternatives...!’

If I had slashed someone else’s arm, they might have woken up, or I might not have been able to stop their bleeding.

‘I can’t handle another uncontrollable situation.’

My blood spilled into the tub. A fragrant aroma, like wood and therapeutic oils, wafted into the air.

The plush toy began to swell, absorbing the essence of the bath, as if rejuvenating.

The toy's fur became shinier and softer, and its marble-like eyes gleamed with a mysterious light.

Then, rapidly, it began to grow in size.

It was as if it had crossed some unseen threshold. The plush toy, soaked in the bath, expanded from a keychain size to a size large enough to fill both hands.

It resembled the original “Good Friend” toy.

Snap.

The bowtie-shaped ribbon couldn't withstand the pressure and snapped off, sticking to one side of the tub.

The transformation was undeniable.

But, but...

The toy remained silent.

"......."

I held my breath and leaned closer to listen again.

Even the faint vibrations from earlier were gone.

The torn plush toy floated quietly atop the aromatic bathwater.

"......."

I stared at it again.

The “Good Friend” plush toy, now filling the small tub, gleamed as if it had just been handcrafted by an artisan.

But it was still torn.

‘Ah.’

The Tub of Youth, as its name suggested, only restored youth... it didn’t heal injuries.

"......."

I had known that.

No, I knew, but... it was more like a desperate attempt.

The "Good Friend" plush toy was broken.

I took a deep breath.

‘...It’s fine.’

I could get another one.

Yes, I could just get one from the original source, not the merchandise box.

The Fun Theme Park still existed. The “Good Friend” plush toy was an item sold in the park’s souvenir shop.

‘It’s something I had to do anyway, so this might actually be more efficient.’

I’ll get a “Good Friend” toy there. And then, I’ll summon it again just as I did before...

.......

"......Ha."

Don’t be ridiculous.

I already knew.

The "Good Friend" summoning ritual wasn’t about calling a specific entity. It summoned "someone from the other world."

‘There’s no guarantee that the same entity would come again if I summoned it.’

No, in fact, it would be strange if the same one appeared.

I had enjoyed reading about how the summoned entities were different every time in The Records of Darkness Exploration.

‘Haha,’

Ha....

"......."

At this moment, I had no choice but to admit it.

It had nothing to do with mental contamination—I had grown fond of this bizarre plush toy.

‘But can you blame me?’

Truly, it had been a "Good Friend."

Encouraging me when I was struggling, sharing my anger when I was furious, having deep conversations, and chatting while watching late-night comedy shows.

A friend who unconditionally prioritized me.

That’s the kind of friend you only meet during childhood, while in school....

"......."

Yes.

I had to try something else.

"Maybe I should stitch it up."

If that didn’t work, I could look for a restoration item, find a ghost story about repairing things, or search for more information—there were plenty of options to try.

For my own sanity.

"Let’s do it."

I felt a little calmer.

The sudden and unexpected incident had left me too shaken, but now my mind was regaining its composure and starting to think logically again.

‘First, let’s clean this up.’

I reached into the tub and pulled out Brown’s dangling upper and lower halves.

And as I was about to roughly arrange the stuffing and store the toy...

‘Huh?’

I noticed a piece of fabric fluttering on the back of the plush toy.

A small rectangular silk tag stitched along the line connecting the head and body.

‘...A tag?’

It seemed like the mark that had faintly emerged during the last bath had fully reappeared this time.

‘Is this the product label for the “Good Friend”?’

You know, those labels with the origin, washing instructions, care guidelines, or even a signature from the maker or buyer.

My gaze was drawn to it.

It was certainly a label, in size and appearance, with tiny, indecipherable characters written in strange rows.

But what caught my attention more was something else.

Over all that information, in thick black marker, like a form of censorship, was scrawled a massive phrase.

“Tag Removal Required.”

"Ah."

"There you are."

Snap.

A massive hand grabbed the tag.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

It was a hand wearing a dapper dress glove.

Its thumb quickly covered the writing on the tag, pulling it.

"Found you."

That hand—

It emerged from within the torn lower half of the “Good Friend” plush toy I was holding.

Crrrrk.

As the plush toy’s lower body split apart, shoulders followed the arm out, then another arm grasped the sink.

Soon, the rest of the enormous body poured out, filling the small bathroom entirely.

A massive figure clad in a neat brown three-piece suit, with long legs, shiny black dress shoes, and...

A vintage television for a head.

Smiling.

From the mangled lower half of the destroyed plush toy, a giant TV-headed figure tilted its screen toward me.

"Soleum!"

Its head bobbed.

The host was gripping my shoulders.

"Ah, it seems you’ve been worried about me. Haha! No need to fret anymore. Here I am, your trusty host, Brown!"

The host of this ghost story waved the tag it had pulled, dangling the tattered upper half of the plush toy.

"Ah, restoring this tag was a splendid choice! Thanks to that, I could track this address. Phew."

"Admiration, compliments, and applause—I won’t refuse them, but... haha, humbly speaking, it was only possible because I’d just wrapped up rehearsals for a live broadcast."

"Anyway, here we are, reunited so soon!"

"......."

"Soleum?"

What is this?

"Hmm... you don’t seem thrilled. Oh... could it be because this stuffed toy is broken? Of course. The audience is always influenced by what they see, after all... Ah, I know!"

Snap.

The host snapped its fingers.

"How about this?"

The emoticon on its TV screen vanished.

Instead, something walked into the frame from offscreen.

...A “Good Friend” bunny plush toy wearing a bowtie.

"Here, your plush-bodied friend! Isn’t it still adorable, even on my screen? Look, it’s waving!"

"The ‘Good Friend’ is...."

"Yes, here it is! Your ‘Good Friend!’ Brown, at your service!"

No.

"The ‘Good Friend’ is...."

"It’s just a plush toy."

.......

.......

"Soleum."

Click.

A spotlight illuminated the cramped bathroom, now a studio, focusing directly on the legendary host and me.

I couldn’t turn my head.

"Ah, so you’ve been holding back. But it seems you’ve made a grave misunderstanding.... That’s fine. Allow me to explain—as a kind and capable show host, it’s my specialty."

"Now...."

The gloved hand carefully picked up the torn plush toy instead of the tag.

The TV screen on the host's head, which had been broadcasting the "Good Friend" bunny plush, suddenly cut back to its signature smiling emoticon.

And then...

Whoosh.

The "Good Friend" plush toy in the host's hands—

Was incinerated.

"This is nothing."

As the host clapped its hands clean, tiny fragments of ash fluttered down from the gloves to the floor.

I stared blankly at it.

But then a thought surfaced.

‘The plush toy wasn’t just a vessel to hold part of something, as if to make it a "friend"....’

"Now, let’s remember together. How did you call upon your friend?"

......

The ritual for summoning a "Good Friend" wasn’t about summoning part of a non-human entity into a plush toy to make it a friend.

Rather, the plush toy acted as a filter, restricting what the summoned entity could express.

Like a simplified roleplay for a child.

"You invited me."

The host pointed at itself.

"Does canceling a dinner reservation mean you’ll never meet someone again? Does smashing a mailbox erase the bills it held? Does tearing up a love letter break the bond between lovers? We already know the answer."

"No!"

"So then... here’s the question."

"Does destroying the plush toy cancel your invitation?"

The host spread its arms wide.

"Of course not!"

Ah.

"What you performed was an eternal ritual. Oh, yes..."

"......."

My stiffening mind pieced together the meaning of the words.

‘In other words,’

The "Good Friend" ritual wasn’t about confining part of an entity into a plush toy to create a friend.

Rather, the entity remained as it was, and the plush toy’s filtering effect only showed a limited, controlled version of the summoned being.

Like using a mask in a performance.

"Would you still like to call this a friendship? Then, I am forever your friend, Soleum! Ah, what beautiful words: eternal friendship!"

The TV screen briefly displayed an emoticon of teary-eyed admiration before switching back to its cheerful smile.

"And our MVP participant, as always, you’ve nailed the timing! Soleum...."

The gloved hand, which had been resting on my shoulder, gave a reassuring pat on my back.

Then it spoke.

"The new talk show is ready."

"......!"

"New participants, a new set, new music, a new season... everything is prepared for filming. A humble little talk show, entirely for the audience’s enjoyment."

"It’s with great pleasure that I present... your new workplace."

No.

I instinctively stepped back.

I needed to open the door, get out, escape the spotlight, clear my head and thoughts....

"Oh."

The smiling emoticon on the TV screen disappeared.

No.

The screen went dark.

"You, a fan of my show, someone who found joy in merely submitting your application... are you now planning to run away from the chance to become part of it? After all the advice, help, unwavering support, and dedication I’ve given you? You, of all people?"

"Soleum, isn’t friendship supposed to be a reciprocal relationship? This emotional and one-sided rejection is... heartbreaking."

I felt nauseous.

"I-I'm sorry...."

"Oh! But there’s no need to apologize. Soleum. A thoughtless apology is not a trait befitting a show creator."

"And I am always an understanding host, attuned to the thoughts and feelings of my guests...."

"So."

In the next moment.

"Allow me, Brown, to sincerely persuade you."

The screen filled with a smiling emoticon.

Bright.

Overwhelmingly bright.

"Wait...."

But the massive vintage TV-headed figure drew closer.

Closer.

Even closer.

"Now then...."