A horrific stench spread through the studio.
What walked into the center of the lights was something bipedal with a pig's head.
A gaunt, emaciated body.
Blood streamed from the eyes of the enormous dead pig attached where a head should have been.
[Just a moment. He's a taciturn artist... Ah! The maestro's equipment is arriving now!]
Thirteen silver platters descended through the air, hanging from wires.
The round, oversized silver platters were decorated with thick yet intricate ornamental engraving.
Screaming faces. Hanging there in countless bunches like clusters of grapes.
[Then shall we meet our passionate contestants, those who applied to become members of the choir?]
The lights came on over each podium.
Six podiums, and on them, pale-faced humans.
[Some of these faces look familiar from last week, don't they? Ha ha. Will the contestants who protected the 99th winning streak manage to set the 100th record in this new segment?]
[Stay tuned! It'll be revealed shortly!]
Waaaaah!
The audience seats were empty. Yet recorded noise mechanically filled the studio.
[But the first honor should go to the first contestant, shouldn't it?]
The host stopped in front of an employee I didn't know.
The employee in the Mole mask hunched his shoulders.
[Here is your question.]
Flash.
[Which of the following has the longest lifespan?]
Pig
Human
Rabbit
Flea
"H-human. Number 2, human...!"
[Correct!]
A flash of relief passed through the eyes behind the Mole mask.
Right. In the original Tuesday Talk Show, that would have been the end of it, moving on amid cheers.
But the new segment had an additional stage.
[Congratulations on passing, Mr. Mole!]
The pig-headed conductor, bleeding from the eyes, raised his gaunt arm and swung a silver baton.
The Mole mask employee's head was torn off whole,
[He'll make a beautiful harmony!]
Thud.
The headless contestant's body fell beneath the podium like a puppet with its strings cut.
"...!"
The severed head alone floated into the air and was displayed atop a silver platter.
Its mouth was still moving.
[We'll awaken the talent best suited to each contestant. Oh, astonishing. Astonishing....]
When the pig raised both arms, a clear, transparent scream suddenly began to rise on pitch from the mouthing employee's lips.
"I-it's human. Human, human it isaaaargh!"
It sounded like someone was forcibly wringing a melody out of vocal cords, as though turning a throat into a woodwind instrument.
[At last, our first chorister has taken his place!]
Choir practice had begun.
Repeating, endlessly, the last words spoken before the neck was cut.
---------------------=
The Chorus of Living Sacrifices consists of one conductor and the thirteen silver platters he has summoned.
The heads of talk show contestants are placed on the silver platters, and the method of selection is determined through that day's broadcast segment.
Heads fused with the silver platters each produce different phrases and instrumental sounds, forming an a cappella arrangement.
The maximum number of heads left in the record is 7.
One head: causes mild headaches, anxiety, and sudden emotional instability.
---------------------=
If you were in the comfortable position of merely reading about the Ghost Story,
you might think, Since it's only one head so far, for a situation this horrifying, isn't that effect still bearable...?
But if you were directly inside this insane situation,
you would never say that.
Just like the employee who got hit with it head-on over there.
"Aaaagh!! S-Siyeon, Si—!"
Incinerated.
The lights went out over another podium. A corpse turned to ash stuck black against the floor beneath it.
The severed head, left still mouthing, continued singing that grotesque melody.
"It's human. Number 2. Humaaaan!"
[Next... ah, another new face. Mr. Jellyfish! Let's see whether you can create a wonderful choral harmony with our successful contestant!]
[Then the question....]
"I don't know! I—I don't know the answer!"
The employee in the Jellyfish mask, whose name I didn't know, shouted before the question was even read.
Instinct must have told him that it would be better to get the quiz wrong and take the punishment instead.
[My!]
It was an astonishing judgment.
...Meaningless, but astonishing.
[Failed.]
His head exploded.
Like fireworks, mirrored disco-light glitter and confetti burst through the studio.
The studio filled with the reaction of the recorded audience, sounding like a mixture of shocked gasps and cheers.
[Oh dear, he has failed! What a pity....]
[He was unable to join the great choir!]
"...."
Right.
'The punishment system is gone, and now if you fail the quiz, you're eliminated no matter what.'
I blinked.
It didn't feel real.
That in barely five minutes after filming began, half the people were dead.
And that there was no exit.
Three remained.
The assistant manager from Group D, the senior staffer.
And me.
[Then shall we meet our next contestant? Oh, these are familiar faces!]
"...."
I remembered something I had been refusing to face.
...That I had never seen the names of these superiors in the Darkness Exploration Record either.
Just like Go Youngeun, who had joined the company in the same intake as me.
I remembered the thought I'd had when I first heard Go Youngeun's name.
-Either she handled the Ghost Stories relatively easily and quit early.
-Or she died early.
[Mr. Badger!]
Of the three of us, the senior staffer was called first.
Park Minseong.
The jaw of the senior staffer standing at the podium farthest from me had gone pale.
A death sentence, and soon I'd be....
[It's your turn to answer!]
No.
'Get a grip!'
I punched myself in the stomach where the podium hid me.
The pain cleared my head a little.
'Whether I'm a coward or not isn't an excuse.'
This wasn't a situation ruled by that kind of fear.
'It's a disaster.'
Like the overwhelming feeling of witnessing a natural catastrophe right in front of you.
I had been swept up in an unforeseen natural disaster. Yes, that was it.... If I panicked here, there was no answer. I'd lose even the life I could have saved.
Don't forget. Out of everyone here, the one with the highest chance of surviving is still you!
Think.
'Right.'
I had information and I had items.
[Mr. Badger, are you ready?]
Now that the host and staff's attention had left me, was there really nothing I could try? Really?
Desperately, I ran through the items I had on me. I frantically reviewed the properties of this Ghost Story too.
'I'm not asking for anything else.'
If I can just get out.
I'm not even wishing for something as big as this insane talk show getting canceled or anything like that. Just for a moment, for just a moment....
Ah.
I lifted my head.
Right there, I could see the host's back.
The posture he had while giving the senior staffer a quiz question.
[It seems you're ready! Good....]
Close.
'...Then!'
I hid my trembling hand below the podium. Then I lowered my body slightly and pulled out two items from the inner pocket of my suit jacket.
A cheap sticker with a smiling emoticon on it, and a can labeled "Drink me."
'Hurry.'
I popped the can open.
Then I tore open the smile sticker's packaging and shoved the sticker into the can.
Hurry, hurry.
"...Ah. Before I answer, may I say something to the viewers?"
[Oh, of course!]
Pretending to look at the camera, the senior staffer looked this way.
At the podiums where the assistant manager and I were standing.
"...I have a family member in the hospital. If possible, I'd like someone to check on them after this recording is over!"
[How touching!]
[So then, your answer?]
Cold sweat running down his face, the senior staffer bared his teeth in a smile.
"I don't kn—"
"Just a moment."
I raised my left hand.
"Mr. Host."
And while drawing attention that way at the same time,
I stretched out my right hand and slapped three or four of the now-soaked smile stickers all at once beneath the old TV that served as the host's head.
"...."
Plop, a single drop of water fell to the floor.
Did the camera catch it? Did he notice?
No. If that had happened, my head would already have burst.
[Oh, Mr. Roe Deer! Do you have something to say?]
He hadn't noticed.
I swallowed.
When I turned my head, the senior staffer was staring at me with bewildered eyes.
He seemed shocked that I had broken the flow, spoken to the host on my own, and not been incinerated.
It was definitely a gamble.
'But I have grounds.'
Hadn't the host clearly said it earlier?
-And since it's a recorded broadcast, it'll be easier than before! Ha ha!
In other words, this shoot wasn't live.
'If so, then unless I completely derail the flow or act uncooperatively, it may not count as interfering with the broadcast.'
Something as simple as raising my hand and making a personal remark!
[Mr. Roe Deer?]
He let it slide.
"Yes."
I brushed my gaze over the underside of the host's TV, where the water had dripped.
Then I lowered my voice so only the host could hear me and said,
"My head is spinning badly. Could I... take a short break?"
[....]
What I had just done was....
A Smile Sticker.
An item that, when attached to an intelligent being, induces a mild sense of familiarity,
soaked in an item whose effect doubles it:
Alice Picnic Set / Canned Drink.
...Of course, even here there was room for debate.
-Could the host be considered an intelligent being?
The host clearly was not human.
Still, didn't he count as having intelligence?
No, he had to. Because I had bet my life on it.
And now there was no taking it back.
What if I got incinerated for interfering with the broadcast? If I was going to die anyway, then dying comfortably might even be better.
The dress shirt clinging to my back was soaked with cold sweat.
The host made a sound....
[My!]
"...."
[Was your enthusiasm for the broadcast a bit too much? Yes, I suppose that can happen, I understand.... Hmm. Mr. Roe Deer really has been working hard.]
[In that case.]
The host's monitor went black.
He raised his right hand and....
[Cut! Let's take a short break!]
The band sound stopped.
The staff broke into murmurs.
[Ha ha, apologies. My screen has gone cloudy. Makeup!]
The camera lights went out in a hurry.
[Wipe it carefully now. Mm, splendid!]
A faceless staff member carrying makeup tools ran up and briskly scrubbed the old TV screen clean.
Then the host stopped the makeup person as they finished and pointed at me.
[Ah, on your way out, I'd be ever so grateful if you could guide that contestant to the waiting room. He's promised to bring me my water.]
Then the emoticon eyes in the TV gave me a wink, and a line of text flashed briefly before disappearing.
[Go have a glass of water and rest!]
"...Thank you."
It worked.
'For now, that's enough.'
I staggered down from the podium at once to follow the makeup staff member.
Even though filming had stopped, the dreadful, horrifying pig's head still stood in the center of the stage, motionless except for the baton it continued to wave.
Drawing grotesque songs from human heads atop grotesque silver platters.
'Endure it.'
Don't look.
On stiff legs, I crossed the center of the stage....
[Filming will resume in 30 minutes!]
It was when I passed by the podiums on the opposite side.
The assistant manager standing there suddenly shoved something into my passing hand.
"...!"
I quickly looked at him.
I could see the shape of his mouth.
-Check it alone.
What was this?
I was guided straight through the door behind the stage.
Inside was a typical old Hollywood-style waiting room.
Except for the absurd number of black-and-white broadcast posters stuck all over the walls like talismans.
"Thank you."
The makeup staff member only gave a silent nod, then vanished at once.
Click.
"Hoo."
...I lived.
Only for thirty minutes, but still, my scheduled death had been postponed.
'I have to do something in that time.'
And I had a new clue now.
I immediately uncurled my fingers and checked the item the assistant manager had pressed into my hand first.
The thing he had tried to get to me somehow in the middle of that desperate situation was....
"...A button?"
It was a button for fastening onto a suit.
At the same time, it was also a button in the sense that it looked like something you could press.
There seemed to be a space inside it, meaning it looked as though it would depress if pushed.
"...."
There was only one way to find out, and there was no time.
'He decided it would help.'
I pressed the button at once.
Beep-beep-beep....
...
Click.
[Lee Jaheon speaking.]
"...!"
[Who is this? That's Assistant Manager Eun Haje's call button.]