The details line up.
---------------------=
The tragedy began with a dusk-grade (D) Darkness themed after a 1970s American talk show.
---------------------=
[Good evening, viewers! Tuesday's delight, Tuesday's excitement.]
[You are now watching! "Tuesday Quiz Show"!]
The live broadcast began.
Along with the lively performance of a band, the host in a suit waved at the cheering audience.
It was a stereotypical American talk show.
Except every staff member's face was blurred out, and instead of a face, the host had an old TV mounted on his head.
---------------------=
The host explains that the talk show has a different theme for each day of the week, but there are no recorded cases of anyone entering on any other day.
Entry is only possible into the talk show for ■day.
---------------------=
[Have you all been waiting for Tuesday? I know I have! It's the only day we get to see our lovely new faces, our quiz show contestants!]
"..."
It matches.
---------------------=
Starting from the 12th run, the Field Operations Team entered fully equipped with past answer sheets for the main segment of the ■day talk show, "Quiz."
Up through the 110th run, they successfully escaped without casualties over 99 explorations. (Prizes included.)
---------------------=
[And astonishingly... over the past several dozen weeks, there hasn't been a single contestant who got an answer wrong! Astonishing, truly astonishing....]
It matches, it does.
---------------------=
However, on the 111th run.
An anomaly occurred on the 100th exploration.
---------------------=
[Will the contestants get the right answers this time as well?]
Ba-bam-bam-babam!
With the sound effect, the lights came on.
Seven podiums had been placed in a semicircle.
Three of them.
Precisely the podiums that I, the senior staffer, and the assistant manager were standing on.
[Mr. Badger, Mr. Falcon, and Mr. Roe Deer.]
[Please give them all a big round of applause!]
Ooooooh!
The unseen audience applauded.
I felt like I might faint.
What if... what if.
[Good heavens, this just in!]
"...!"
Making a fuss, the host accepted something from a staff member.
[It's been quite a while since every contestant answered correctly, hasn't it? That streak has reached a whopping....]
A whopping.
[98 episodes!]
"...!"
[Which means today makes the 99th. Ha ha!]
I lived.
'It's not the 100th...!'
My heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.
'Right. The odds of getting dropped in exactly on the 100th would actually be lower.'
I nearly grabbed the podium in relief, but stopped myself.
Because it had been written clearly in the PDF answer sheet for "Tuesday Talk Show" that I received earlier.
-If you interfere with the broadcast, you will be incinerated.
It wasn't even a punishment. It was "incineration."
And this was a live broadcast.
In other words, if anything about me seemed even a little strange, I would die.
[Will the 99th contestants carry on the winning streak and pass the baton to the 100th contestants? Or will this incredible record be broken?]
[Stay tuned and keep watching!]
I turned my head.
The assistant manager and senior staffer at the other podiums didn't look especially tense. They gave me light glances and faint smiles.
Like people carrying on in total confidence that this was a Ghost Story that had settled into a pattern after nearly three years of accumulated safety, and that this time would be the same.
'Deep breath.'
It's fine.
...It should be fine.
I drew in a deep breath, then let it out.
[Then, Mr. Roe Deer!]
"Yes."
[Are you very nervous?]
"Yes. It's my first time taking part in a quiz show like this."
[Ah, good, good.... Then let's start with an easy first question!]
Strange text appeared on the old TV that served as the host's head.
It was an unfamiliar and ominous writing system I had never seen before, but I could read it. A wave of headache and nausea surged up, then receded.
[Question: Choose the one that is not a suitable component of a human being.]
Water
Iron
Oil
Soil
"...Number 4. Soil."
[Correct!]
And so the quiz show went on... smoothly.
'The theme is creepy in a way, but these aren't questions that are impossible to answer.'
On top of that, the list of past questions the Field Operations Team had smuggled out of this Ghost Story was definitely effective.
The questions weren't exactly the same, but they were close enough that there was no real difficulty in matching them to the answer sheet.
'If anything, having to use your head a little probably made it even less likely people would get them wrong.'
[Unbelievable! Correct!]
[Again?]
[Ahhh, ah... he's conflicted. He's conflicted.... Yes, number 3! Mr. Roe Deer has chosen strangulation. And his fate is?? ...Correct! Hooray!]
The past questions lined up well, and everything kept progressing without a hitch.
I even deliberately pretended to hesitate before answering, trying as hard as possible to match the tone of the show.
'I just have to get through this broadcast somehow.'
That obsessive thought had a death grip on my mind.
During the commercial break, when the host said something along the lines of "Please come on again sometime," I screamed internally and muddled my way through it outwardly like I was tempted by the offer.
Then question 2, 3, 4, 5... and after passing question 9.
[Mr. Roe Deer! This is the final question.]
At last, the end of this insane situation came into view.
[The other contestants, astonishingly enough, have answered every single question correctly and are once again extending the winning streak!]
[Will Mr. Roe Deer be able to complete the final link?]
At the other podiums, I saw my superiors giving me subtle little waves or nods.
If I got this one right, it was over.
[Are you ready?]
"Yes."
[Good!]
The question appeared.
[Question: Choose what percentage of blood loss causes death in humans.]
40%
45%
50%
55%
"...."
Did they put a trap in because it was the last question?
I steadied my breathing.
"The correct answer is... number 1,"
[Ah, he has chosen number 1....]
"And number 2."
[…!]
"And number 3, and number 4.... All of them."
[....]
"On average, a human life is in danger when about 30 to 40 percent of the blood is lost."
[Oh.]
"So if they lose more than that, they would die as well."
[No, no... this can't be!]
The TV flashed.
Even if I got it wrong, it didn't feel like I would die.
But I didn't want to give this dangerous Ghost Story any opening at all, so I was gritting my teeth and trying to avoid every trap I could.
[So you're saying there are multiple correct answers! By any chance... would you like to change your answer?]
"No."
Ooooooh.
A murmur rose from the audience seats.
And then... one of the faceless staff members hurriedly ran up onto the stage...?
[…My! I have astonishing news to share.]
[In truth, the answer our writers prepared was number 1.]
W-wait a second.
[But Mr. Roe Deer's answer is far more impressive! It's more logical too, right? Isn't it?]
Yes!! I heard the audience shout.
The host spread both arms wide.
[Then of course it counts as correct! I'll accept it as a full-mark answer! Splendid!]
"...!"
Hah.
'Anyway, I lived.'
Why the hell did you set a trap for yourself and nearly fall into it! I shut my eyes tight in relief, screaming inside, then opened them again.
The host must have taken that for emotion, because he came over and patted my back in an embrace-like gesture.
The fact that he had body heat made it even more horrifying.
[Wonderful, wonderful!]
"...Thank you."
[Then with that....]
Gripping the microphone, the host cried out with emotion.
[Astonishingly, all of our contestants have kept the winning streak going! Amazing!]
Pop.
Confetti burst and cheers erupted.
At each podium, my superiors had expressions that plainly said, "Looks like it's finally ending," so clearly it might as well have shown through their masks.
[However, there is only one MVP who will receive the top prize. And that is....]
A drum roll followed....
And the host pointed.
[Mr. Roe Deer!]
Waaaaah!
The band blasted out a noisy celebratory sound effect.
[Congratulations! Please accept your prize!]
"Thank... you."
I accepted the small gift box the host held out.
I was happy. Of course, not because I'd received an object.
'It's finally over.'
Once the cameras turned off, I could leave.
'Please, let's just go.'
It was right when my mind had begun to settle at the thought of returning to an office in a Seoul high-rise in the twenty-first century.
[Sadly, it's now time to wrap up Tuesday Quiz Show. Tomorrow we'll return with even finer guests for Wednesd— hmm?]
Click.
Out of nowhere.
The lights suddenly came on over the four empty podiums.
"...?!"
There were silhouettes standing there before I knew it.
Four people looking around in confusion.
All wearing suits and masks.
'Company employees?'
They had to be another group from the Field Operations Team.
There was exactly one mask whose wearer I recognized by sight. It was probably a fellow new employee from my intake.
That part I understood. But....
'Why did they overlap?'
Can people enter a Ghost Story like this at the same time? No, leaving aside whether it's even possible....
'...This is a broadcast accident.'
Silence filled the studio.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
"...."
Something had gone wrong.
The employee in the Zebra mask standing right beside me seemed to sense it too.
"Wh-what is this, why are there people who came earlier—"
[My.]
He ignited.
"...!"
The employee in the Zebra mask burst into flame soundlessly and quickly. He looked as though he hadn't even understood the situation, mouth still hanging open, then collapsed like a lie.
All that remained was a heap of ash shaped like a pair of shoes.
The camera swung away in a hurry.
[…Surprise!]
[That was a surprise preview of the contestants who will be appearing next Tuesday!]
The loud band music hurriedly kicked in as if to smooth things over.
Now the camera was on me.
"...!"
Damn it.
Damn it, damn it!
With everything I had, I shook the gift box I was holding up into the air.
Like I was thrilled!
Pop.
Confetti rained down from nowhere again, and the drums thundered noisily. The host drew cheers from the audience.
[Tomorrow, we'll be back with an even more delightful show for you!]
[Then... have a good night!]
Bam!
With a bright guitar sound, the camera light went out.
"...."
It was over.
Over...
Wasn't it?
Why are we still here?
[Phew. We almost ruined the live broadcast. Good thing it was handled well, right?]
The camera had definitely gone off.
Faceless staff ran onto the stage, the lights in the audience seats went dark.
The band disappeared too.
The place had shifted into a backstage full of noise and murmuring, as though the set's cold steel skeleton had been laid bare.
But we weren't disappearing.
...A bleak foreboding crawled up my spine.
[Mr. Roe Deer! You had excellent sense out there. Would you be interested in becoming a regular panelist?]
"...I already have a job."
[Oh dear! Well, our talk show's application postcards are always open to you!]
Why was the Ghost Story continuing?
The reason was simple.
Because the considerate host intended to stop the contestants and kindly explain why this situation had occurred.
[Ah, and our new contestants!]
[You must have been startled, worried you might ruin the broadcast. It wasn't intentional, was it? I trust that it wasn't. Don't blame yourselves too much!]
[And don't worry either. We'll give the three of you another chance as well!]
With a warm and sociable manner, the host started speaking to the employees who had entered midway, the "new contestants."
As though there had only ever been three of them in the first place.
Meanwhile, the staff swept up the ash left behind by the one who had been incinerated with brooms and disposed of it.
I felt like I was losing my mind.
[I'd love to give you all a chance to participate right away, but sadly our show is live. So we'll see you next week!]
But if we just left like this, it would be fine.
Please, please, please let it end like this! Let it end right here!
[Then for now, you all may head home— hmm?]
That was when it happened.
Someone holding a megaphone in one hand ran up onto the stage.
Their face was too washed out by the lighting to make out properly, but unlike the other staff members, they were wearing sunglasses, and that much I could identify.
The figure with the megaphone hurriedly whispered something into the host's ear.
[…! Ah, dear.]
The host turned back to us.
[You see, this is difficult for me to say as well... um.]
The emoticon on the TV screen wore a gloomy expression.
[Our show was just canceled.]
"...!"
[To be exact, Tuesday Quiz Show was. So strictly speaking, it's not as though my show itself has ended, but yes.]
[The quiz segment has been replaced.]
What?
[We won't be able to invite you as contestants for the 100th winning-streak challenge after all. I'd like to apologize with all my heart.]
The host looked so genuinely sorry and ashamed that even the antenna on top of his TV head bent down.
"Then... is, is it cleared?"
"H-huh...."
From around me, I could faintly hear the hopeful voices of the other team's employees, threaded through confusion, fear, and panic.
But the back of my neck was turning cold with sweat.
'No.'
This development....
---------------------=
Exploration Record #100
It began in the same studio as the previous runs.
However, the program title had changed.
To the confused employees, the host explained that "Tuesday Quiz Show" had been canceled.
He stated that because contestants had answered correctly for 99 consecutive runs, the punishment had become functionally meaningless, and as a result he had been disciplined on the grounds that the segment was no longer stimulating enough.
So the new segment, he said, had chosen material that would attract the viewers' interest more effectively....
---------------------=
[Ah! Just a moment!]
At a signal from the staff, the host's TV antenna abruptly sprang wide open.
[Good news. They say all of you will be invited to participate in the new segment as well!]
"...!!"
[And since it's a recorded broadcast, it'll be easier than before! Ha ha!]
[We'll begin filming right away! I may only have a supporting role, but yes, I'll do my best to make it a good show....]
"Just a moment."
Our team's assistant manager raised a hand, his face stiff.
"We've already participated in the show, so we'll be heading back no—"
[Heading back before filming is over?]
"...!"
The TV screen buzzed right up in front of the assistant manager's face.
[My... it was all written on the application postcard, wasn't it? Well, if you truly can't participate... that can't be helped.]
"...."
[Tell me. Can't you do it?]
The assistant manager slowly shifted his eyes, and they met mine across the way.
I gave the slightest shake of my head.
The assistant manager must have realized it too.
That "it can't be helped" didn't mean they would let him go home. It meant they would simply incinerate him.
[So you can do it! Good.]
A dreadful silence.
The studio filled with the breathing of company employees who had gone pale.
I was probably one of them too.
No, was I even breathing?
[My! There's tension in the air. It's always like that with a new program.]
[Let's cheer up! Mr. Roe Deer, you did splendidly on the live broadcast, didn't you? I'm sure you'll do wonderfully this time as well....]
Isn't there... any excuse that might work?
Anything that sounds plausible?
"Yes. But I didn't know I'd be appearing on the broadcast consecutively."
[Oh.]
"People can make mistakes, can't they?"
I gripped the podium so hard my knuckles turned white.
"If I prepare a bit more, and then participate again next Tuesday..."
[Ahhh! It's starting! Look there, the lights are coming on! 3, 2, 1....]
The host muttered in an excited voice.
Reason didn't reach him.
As though his soul had been completely swallowed by the broadcast, the host ran out in front of the camera.
[Good evening, viewers! Tuesday's delight, Tuesday's excitement.]
[You are now watching! The newly added segment of our talk show!]
This is insane.
[Are you saddened by the disappearance of the quiz show? There's no need for that. Because this is a more advanced form of quiz show!]
[They say they've added something on top of the quiz! What could it be?]
Reading from the prompter, the host flung both hands around.
[No matter what, what stirs weary heartstrings is melody.]
[Especially the voice! A chorus— ah, what a beautiful sound it is!]
....
[Ha ha, our band has no need to feel slighted. We've invited a master of a completely different genre!]
[Our new guest is making an appearance!]
It emerged as the back of the set opened.
A rusty stench that stabbed at the nose, a foul odor, and a dark, gigantic pig's head.
[The conductor of the Purgatory Choir, the butcher of filthy, hideous, magnificent melodies!]
[That's right. The name of our new segment is... Tuesday Choir!]
Hell had arrived.