Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 125

I didn't realize it before.

From the perspective of a palm-sized plush toy, the talk show set was overwhelmingly massive and intimidating.

Everything loomed unnaturally large, and the inability to blink or even squirm underlined the suffocating pressure of my situation.

Especially when a grotesque host, with a TV for a head, cast a looming shadow right beside me.

That vivid voice boomed, “Let’s welcome today’s guest!”

‘~~!’

The reverberation shook the stuffing inside me.

Yet, no matter my state, the show went on.

‘The guest...’

The vintage-style stage lights flickered as the door opened.

A macabre ghost story that I had suggested during a meeting—a “brilliant idea,” they said—walked through the door and was seated on the guest chair.

More precisely, a staff member tilted it into the guest chair.

It was something vaguely human-shaped, made from wooden poles.

A Red Scarecrow.

Its head was wrapped in a cloth smeared with haphazard red marker scribbles, resembling facial features. The red stains had been smeared further by rain, making it appear even more grotesque.

A monster from an endless cornfield the size of a city. It lured people in, made them lose their way, and, by nightfall, transformed into a creature that hunted them down, leaving them missing.

This chilling ghost story, inspired by an infamous American urban legend and featured in Records of Darkness, felt like the perfect fit for this show’s eerie tone. That’s why I’d recommended it.

Now it sat there.

I felt nausea rise.

But there was nothing to purge.

Because I was a plush doll.

I had no mouth, no stomach, no organs.

The host approached the guest, saying, “You’ve come a long way to join us today. Now...”

The overwhelming pressure that shook me subsided slightly as the host turned to face the scarecrow.

The scarecrow didn’t respond to the host’s words, its crudely drawn face staring into nothingness. Yet the host flawlessly carried out the interview as though there was a lively exchange.

“Oh, most recently, a group of bank robbers reportedly fled into a cornfield. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The story unfolded: bank robbers, seeking to evade a police search, entered the cornfield, only to meet the red scarecrow. They all became fertilizer for the corn and the scarecrow’s inner stuffing.

A morally less uncomfortable story that was thrilling nonetheless—a “record of exploration” that mixed suspense and humor.

“Wow, that’s genuinely chilling.”

“Unbelievable.”

The audience reacted enthusiastically, gasping in fright and laughing nervously.

As if laughing together somehow made even the most horrific events entertaining.

The interview grew increasingly sinister, describing the mounting toll of innocent victims, but the audience cheered, reveling in the thrills.

‘They’re infected.’

I finally understood.

These countless spectators were slowly being corrupted just by watching this talk show.

And perhaps I was too...

Maybe not at first, but little by little, as the show went on.

“What a thrilling story! Don’t you all agree? Let’s give a big round of applause to our guest, making its debut outside the cornfield!”

The scarecrow remained as it was, with its red-marker eyes, nose, and mouth.

But now, it seemed as though its eyes were looking directly at the audience...

“And now, let’s move to the next segment... Oh, right! We introduced this short segment in the last episode, didn’t we?”

Tell Brown’s Friend!

Wait.

“Unfortunately, today isn’t the original day my friend appears on the show, so they couldn’t come as they are...”

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“But they’re here with a fiery new look!”

The host picked me up.

Suspended midair, my body dangled helplessly, manipulated by the giant, gloved hands as though I were a puppet.

“See this? My friend!”

The audience roared with laughter, pointing at me, clapping, and cheering.

The host began to “speak” for me, performing ventriloquism.

“Now, what’s that, my friend? Oh, I see!”

“For the next 100 seconds, I’ll ask questions, and you, my friend, will answer! Everyone, let’s hear it!”

The host eerily mimicked my tone and inflection. My stuffed arm waved at the audience. They laughed.

The enthusiasm was suffocating.

“Let’s listen to the first question from my friend!”

The TV speaker tilted toward me as though waiting for my response.

...But I couldn’t speak.

Because I had no mouth.

Still...

‘I can think.’

Just like how I’d heard the voice of the “kind friend” in my thoughts, I could send mine out.

And so I thought.

‘I want this to stop.’

“Oh, my friend says they’re nervous!”

“But here’s the first question... Oh, bold! If you were to redraw the Red Scarecrow’s face, what would you design?”

‘I want this to stop.’

“Cute! Great answer! Don’t you all think so?”

‘I want this to stop.’

“Of course, Brown!”

I kept resisting the host’s words.

But the host acted as though I were enthusiastically engaging, seamlessly moving the doll as if I were speaking.

And so, the 100 seconds passed.

“Ha-ha-ha! Thank you! That was Brown’s Friend!”

“Now, it’s time to introduce our next guest. But first, a quick word from our sponsors!”

As the cameras stopped and the stage lights dimmed...

...

...

“You dared to disrupt the live broadcast.”

My body froze.

The enormous TV head lowered, speaking softly.

“This is unforgivable, Solum. Are you thinking with straw like the scarecrow now? How dare you try to ruin the show!”

A gloved hand pressed against my head. My stuffing compressed under the overwhelming pressure, as though my head was collapsing between its fingers.

“Oh, my... How shameless.”

“I’ve done everything to support you as your kind friend! And yet here you are, trying to sabotage this live broadcast—your workplace!”

“This cannot be tolerated...”

‘But there’s one thing I can’t tolerate.’

“...”

‘The audience. They’re disappearing and dying.’

Even as my vision blurred from the hand crushing me, I continued to think.

‘After the show ends, you send gratitude letters and tell them exactly how to meet the guest.’

‘So they can turn those encounters into entertaining stories for the next episode.’

“Who told you that?”

“Ah, but that’s irrelevant, my friend. There seems to be a misunderstanding...”

The pressure on my head released.

Instead, the gloved hand gently fluffed the stuffing back into place, fixing my collapsed head.

“Solum, my show doesn’t force anything.”

“If someone watches a movie with a murderer and becomes a serial killer, is it the movie’s fault or the person’s?”

The TV displayed a crying face.

“Why should this show prioritize anything other than joy, excitement, and thrills?”

‘I’m not here to convince you.’

I thought.

‘So don’t try to convince me.’

And.

‘I don’t want to create or appear in a talk show that kills and burns people.’

...

...

“Oh.”

The glove released my head.

And then...

“Very well.”

“In that case, you’ll be treated as a mere errand staff member from now on.”

It felt as though my blood froze.

But I had no blood, so I kept thinking...

‘You don’t have that right. I never signed a staff contract.’

It was true.

Everything had been agreed upon verbally.

The contract was only scheduled to be signed soon.

‘And you said yourself. If I wasn’t happy, you’d let me go.’

I stared unblinking at the screenless TV.

‘Let me go. I’m scared, and I’m not happy.’

The old TV remained still.

‘I won’t listen to your persuasion or words anymore. Just let me go.’

...

...

Thunk.

Brown set me back on the desk.

And then came a subdued, sorrowful voice.

“I... don’t understand, Solum. Why leave something joyful and fulfilling for something miserable?”

“Were you unhappy with the treatment on our show? There’s no such thing as a perfectly ethical show, Solum... You know that.”

It whispered.

“Perhaps this is just your excuse. Maybe you’re unhappy as staff?”

“Would you like a new room? Oh, or perhaps a stronger, more fitting image for the show...”

No!

‘I said I wouldn’t listen to persuasion!’

I couldn’t allow myself to be dragged back. I was just a doll now. I didn’t even have the silver ring. No. I couldn’t be swayed....

‘I’m quitting. That’s the end of it.’

“...”

The TV head leaned back.

“I see.”

“Very well, then. As your friend, I’ll respect your wishes.”

The gloved hand motioned for the staff to take me away.

“You’re fired. Go on, leave this wonderful studio and return to your dull, pathetic life!”

“But remember, there will no longer be any kind friend.”

“...”

“And when today’s show ends, you’ll be free to go wherever you wish. Well...”

“If your stuffed body can manage, that is.”

‘You’re the one who put me in this. Put me back.’

“Oh? And why should I do that?”

“Because...”

“Fascinating. Solum, you make demands so freely, without any sense of responsibility for this show. And you shout not to persuade you... yet now you try to persuade me?”

“You’re shameless. Oh, but shame itself is a delightful emotion for consumption...”

“Mostly in the enjoyment of punishments.”

The staff placed me not back on the desk but precariously on a side table beside the guest.

So close to falling into the trash.

“Oh, look! The cameras are back on!”

Brown’s voice became bright and cheerful again.

Perfectly fitting for the talk show.

“Well then, enjoy the rest of the show while you think it over. It’s your last chance.”

“To choose punishment... or to return...”

Then.

Ping.

A strange, thin sound resonated with a flash before me.

Something appeared in my unblinking view.

A needle-thin beam pierced the ceiling of the studio.

From above, an unnaturally blue light shone directly down on me.

And then.

Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping-ping.

More beams shot down in rapid succession.

My vision blurred as my stuffing burst forth.

‘Ah.’

Something.

Something pierced me.

Pierced me entirely.

“...!”

Was that... the Divine Flame Barrage?

No.

‘Am I... dying?’

If I die in this form, will I truly die as a stuffed doll?

Then.

“Now...”

I felt hands gripping my plush body tightly.

It was the host.

Perhaps trying to stop the stuffing from spilling out of the doll.

But the relentless, targeted barrage didn’t stop.

Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping.

My head detached and fell to the floor.

“...!!”

Boom.

Crash-crash-crash-crash!

The ceiling collapsed.

Something transparent and glowing, like meteors, crashed madly down on the talk show set, smashing it to pieces.

From my detached head’s perspective, I could see my tattered fabric body and stuffing, gripped tightly by the host, who looked utterly stunned.

Ah.

Just like I had panicked when my “kind friend” was torn in half.

This being...

***

"Kim Soleum."

"......!"

"You’ve returned, haven’t you?"

"......Yes."

I regained consciousness in a place devoid of any sensation.

Through the CCTV-like vision before me, I saw Manager Isajeon moving again.

The difference now was that the studio in view was shaking violently, as if it had been hit by a bomb.

"The Starfire Barrage has commenced."

Yes, I know...

You fired it at me, after all...

"Did you deliberately target the plush toy I was in to make me return to this body?"

"Yes."

"This barrage will continue for the next ten minutes, but the situation remains highly dangerous. Supervisor Kim Soleum must leave this location as quickly as possible, ideally within three minutes."

"Couldn’t the host simply throw me back into the plush toy again?"

"That is possible."

"However, darkness is an inherently unbalanced and extreme phenomenon. A supernatural entity like the host, who is obsessed with the talk show, is more likely to prioritize restoring the studio and eliminating the cause of the disturbance."

Manager Isajeon, moving at an incredible speed, made this chilling statement in a monotone voice.

And without hesitation, he made another declaration.

"Furthermore, entry into the safehouse has been authorized."

"...What?"

"The Coalition has recognized the current circumstances as preventing the escape of an emergency beacon user."

"Thus, Supervisor Kim Soleum may be transported to a location where pursuit by the supernatural entity can be evaded."

"......."

I didn’t know what this "Coalition" was, but it probably resembled some kind of alien organization.

"The only way to prevent unforeseen circumstances in this situation is to leave the studio promptly and head to the designated location."

If that’s the case... I might be able to avoid the host’s pursuit for a while.

Maybe, during that time, I could organize my situation and find a way to permanently shake off the host using the Dark Exploration Logs.

Through the CCTV-like vision, I saw the lizard-like figure of Captain Isajeon running down the violently shaking studio corridor, accompanied by deafening noises.

"...Have you figured out the way out?"

"Yes."

"While re-entering the studio to locate the position where Supervisor Kim Soleum’s consciousness was summoned, I confirmed the escape route."

"...!"

It really felt like escape was possible.

Whether it led back to Delusional Home Shopping or somewhere else, as long as I could reach the authorized safehouse, I might finally be able to catch my breath.

It was a tempting prospect, but...

......

The truth is, I knew.

It was all a stopgap measure.

"A highly antagonistic method of escape."

I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this choice might lead to an irrevocable confrontation with the host.

"The host, Brown, could find me again at any time."

In other words, this escape wasn’t a solution—it was only a temporary evasion.

Moreover...

"......."

I recalled the scene I saw just before being separated from the plush toy.

The sight of the host desperately trying to suppress my exploding plush toy.

"......."

Perhaps.

"...Captain."

"Yes?"

"Captain, are you the type of intelligent being that is easily corrupted by darkness?"

"No."

"...Okay."

And one more thing.

"If I die in my body, will you simply return to being Manager Isajeon?"

"If death occurs within 55 hours, yes."

......In that case.

"Captain."

I swallowed hard.

"Don’t head for the exit as planned. Go to the host instead."

If it’s a gamble anyway, I’ll attempt the method that I can directly control.

"I’ll find another way to get out."