Chapter 125.1

I didn’t know.

How vast and overwhelming the talk show set would look from the perspective of a palm-sized stuffed doll.

How everything could appear unnaturally massive, and what kind of pressure it would bring to be unable to blink or even struggle.

Especially.

If the eerie host, with a television in place of a head, loomed over me, casting a massive shadow.

And when that voice, so vividly real, echoed—

Now then, let us welcome today’s guest!

‘~~!’

The vibrations rattled through my stuffing like an earthquake.

But no matter what state I was in, the talk show continued.

‘Guest…’

The vintage stage lights flickered as the door swung open.

A grotesque ghost story—one I had personally suggested in a meeting, calling it ‘a fantastic idea’—stepped onto the stage and took its seat.

Or rather, the staff carried it in and propped it up in the guest’s seat.

Because it was merely a vaguely human-shaped figure made of wooden sticks.

The Crimson Scarecrow!

Its head was wrapped in cloth, crudely scrawled with facial features in red marker—eyes, nose, and mouth, drawn with careless, slashing strokes.

The rain had smudged the markings, making it appear even more nightmarish.

A monster said to lurk in a cornfield the size of a city, luring people in until they lost their way—then, once night fell, hunting them down one by one until they vanished.

An entity derived from a famous American horror story, turned into an entry into the <Dark Exploration Records>. It had fit perfectly with the tone of the show, which was why I had recommended it.

And now, it sat right there.

I could feel a swell of nausea rising.

But, there was nothing inside me.

Because I’m a stuffed doll.

I had no mouth, no stomach, no organs.

[You’ve made quite the journey to be here today. Now then…]

The host stepped closer to the guest, and the suffocating weight of his presence over me lightened slightly.

The scarecrow, of course, did not respond. Its vandalized face continued staring blankly into space, but the host carried the interview effortlessly.

[Oh! I hear that the most recent incident involved a group of bank robbers escaping into a cornfield! How thrilling…]

A chilling tale unfolded—how a group of robbers, fleeing the police, had hidden in a cornfield… only to encounter the Crimson Scarecrow and meet a gruesome fate. By morning, the criminals’ entrails had become nothing more than fertilizer for the corn and the stuffing for the scarecrow itself.

A thrilling, action-packed ‘exploration record’, laced with humor and suspense, while keeping the ethical discomfort to a minimum.

“Wow, that’s seriously creepy.”

“Amazing.”

The audience gasped, startled and entertained in equal measure, unable to suppress their laughter even as the horror unfolded before them.

Yes.

It was as if, as long as everyone laughed together, even the most terrible things could be seen as fun.

Even as the interview veered toward increasingly disturbing stories of innocent victims, the audience only cheered louder, exhilarated by the thrill.

‘They’re contaminated.’

Now I understood.

These people—slowly, bit by bit, were becoming contaminated just by watching the talk show.

And maybe, just maybe…

I, too, had become contaminated the longer I worked on this talk show…

[What an exciting story! Don’t you all agree? Ah, let’s give a round of applause for our guest, stepping beyond the cornfield and into the public eye for the very first time!]

The eerie scarecrow, still nothing more than a red-marked sack, sat motionless.

And yet, somehow, it now seemed as if its eyes were truly looking at the audience.

[Now then… It’s time to move on to our next segment… Oh, that’s right! We introduced this new corner last episode, didn’t we? Do you all remember, dear viewers?]

Tell Braun’s Friend
All About It!

Wait.

[Unfortunately, my friend wasn’t originally scheduled to appear today, so he couldn’t come in his usual form…]

[But with his burning passion, he’s returned in a brand-new appearance!]

The host lifted me.

Dangling in midair, my small, stuffed limbs swayed as his gloved hands made me wave my arms and nod my head.

Can you see him?
Here is my dear friend!

The audience erupted into laughter, pointing at me, clapping, and cheering.

He lifted me like a puppet and began speaking for me, like a ventriloquist.

[‘Now, what’s that, my friend? Aha!’]

[‘For the next 100 seconds, we’ll ask some questions! Audience, please respond!’]

The host mimicked my speech patterns and intonation with eerie accuracy. My stuffed arm waved toward the audience. People laughed.

I was terrified by how easy it was to get swept up in the excitement.

[Now, shall we hear what my friend wants to ask?]

The TV screen tilted toward me, as if expectantly.

…I couldn’t speak.

Because a stuffed doll has no mouth.

But…

‘I can think.’

And my thoughts would be transmitted with perfect clarity.

Just like when I had been able to hear the voice of the ‘Good Friend’.

So…

I thought.

‘I want to stop.’

[…Aha! My friend is feeling a little nervous.]

[But here we go, the first question—oh, how bold! ‘If you could redraw the Crimson Scarecrow’s face, what would you draw?’]

‘I want to stop.’

[‘Cute! Oh, what a wonderful answer.’ Don’t you think so, my friend?]

‘I want to stop.’

[‘Of course, Braun!’]

I kept resisting his words.

But the host, as if completely unaffected, continued his ventriloquism effortlessly, making the doll move as though I were enthusiastically responding.

And so, the 100 seconds passed.

[‘Hahaha! Thank you! That was the Braun’s Friend segment!’]

[Now, it’s time to welcome our next guest. But first… we’ll be right back after these messages!]

The cameras stopped.

The stage lights went dark.

……

……

[How dare you disrupt a live broadcast.]

My entire body froze.

The enormous TV-headed figure leaned down and whispered.

[This is unacceptable. Mr. Soleum, have you started thinking with straw instead of a brain, just like the scarecrow? Did you really try to ruin my show?!]

A gloved hand pressed down on my head.

My head—my entire being—was crushed beneath the pressure, as if my thoughts were dissolving into nothingness.

[Heavens… This… is unforgivable.]

[As your good friend, I have done nothing but support your work, and yet! Mr. Roe Deer, you’re trying to sabotage this talk show right now—your own workplace, no less!]

[Absolutely unacceptable…]

‘There’s something I can’t accept either.’

[……]

‘The audience members. They went missing. They died.’

Even as my vision blurred from the pressure of the gloved hand, I kept thinking.

‘After the show ended, you sent them thank-you letters, and inside, you included instructions on how to meet the guests.’

‘You did that because it made for great entertainment when the guests returned with more gruesome stories, didn’t you?’

[Who told you that?]

[No, that’s not the issue here. Friend, there seems to be a misunderstanding…]

The pressure on my head eased.

Instead, the gloved hands smoothed out my stuffing, gently restoring my shape.

[Mr. Roe Deer, my show never forces anything.]

[If someone watches a horror movie and is inspired to commit murder, is that the movie’s fault?]

The TV screen displayed a crying emoticon.

[Why must my show prioritize anything other than joy, thrills, and excitement?]

‘I’m not trying to convince you.’

I thought.

‘So don’t try to convince me.’

And then—

‘I don’t want to create, participate in, or be a part of a talk show that murders people and burns them to ash.’

……

……

[Oh.]

The hand lifted away from my head.

And then.

[I see.]

[In that case, from now on, I suppose you’ll just be treated as a lowly backstage staff member.]

It felt as if my blood had frozen.

But I had no blood.

So I kept thinking.

‘You don’t have the right. I never signed the employment contract.’

Exactly that.

Everything had been verbal.

The contract was only scheduled to be signed sometime soon.

‘And you said it yourself.’

‘That if I wasn’t enjoying it, you’d let me go.’

I stared at the blank screen of the vintage TV with unblinking eyes.

‘So let me go. I’m scared, and I’m not enjoying this.’

• Author
• Recent Posts

Salt Goblin

Latest posts by Salt Goblin (see all)