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.

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.

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