Chapter 125
Chapter 125
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Puppet's Desperate Stand
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I didn't know.
From the viewpoint of a palm-sized stuffed doll, how massive and overwhelming the talk show set appeared.
Everything was unnaturally enormous, and the pressure of not being able to even blink once or twitch in struggle—what that felt like.
Especially.
If there was a bizarre host with a TV for a head looming right beside me, casting a gigantic shadow.
That vivid voice...
'~~!'
The vibration rattled my stuffing inside.
But no matter my situation, the talk show continued.
'Guest...'
A classic lightbulb flashed as the door opened.
The bizarre urban legend I'd suggested in the meeting—which had been adopted as a "very good idea"—opened the door and took a seat in the guest chair.
More precisely, the staff carried the guest in and propped it slantwise against the guest seat.
It was something shaped like a person made from wooden sticks.
Its head was wrapped in cloth crudely scribbled with what looked like human eyes, nose, and mouth using a red marker.
Even that was smeared like it'd been caught in the rain, making it look even more grotesque.
A monster from a cornfield the size of a city that lured people in, made them lose their way, and then hunted them one by one at night, turning them into missing persons.
A creepy urban legend based on a famous American one, featured in the Darkness Exploration Records. I'd recommended it thinking it fit the talk show's vibe perfectly.
And there it sat.
Bile rose in my throat.
But nothing happened.
Because I was a stuffed doll.
I had no mouth, no stomach, nothing.
As the host approached the guest, the oppressive pressure shaking my entire body eased a little.
The scarecrow couldn't respond to the host's words, its scribbled face staring eerily into empty space, but the host masterfully conducted the interview solo.
The story of bank robbers who entered a cornfield to evade police pursuit, only to meet the Red Scarecrow and end up as fertilizer for the corn—or its stuffing.
A gripping "exploration record" packed with tension and humor, relatively less ethically uncomfortable.
"Whoa, that's creepy."
"No way."
The audience watched with delight and excitement, gasping in shock and fear but never losing their smiles.
Yes.
As if laughing together turned even the most horrific events into fun.
Even as the interview veered into increasingly gruesome tales of innocent victims, the crowd cheered with thrill.
'It was contaminated.'
Now I got it.
All these people had been slowly corrupted while watching the talk show.
And maybe, even me...
Not at first, but gradually as the show went on.
The eerie scarecrow was still just scribbled eyes, nose, and mouth in red marker.
But now, somehow, those eyes seemed to be watching the audience...
Hold on.
He picked me up.
My body dangled in midair, gloved giant hands making my head and arms bob.
The audience giggled, pointed fingers, then clapped and cheered.
He began conversing with me like a ventriloquist puppet.
The host mimicked my voice and tone with chilling smoothness. My stuffing-filled arm waved toward the audience. They laughed.
The madness trying to corrupt my mind terrified me.
The TV speaker tilted toward me as if listening.
...I couldn't speak.
Stuffed dolls have no mouths.
But...
'I can think.'
This thought transmitted intensely to the other side.
Just as I'd understood the good friend's voice.
So...
I thought.
'I want to stop.'
'I want to stop.'
'I want to stop.'
I kept rejecting the host's words with my thoughts.
But the host casually, as if I were enthusiastically agreeing, kept manipulating the doll and ventriloquizing like a lie.
Thus, 100 seconds passed.
The cameras stopped, stage lights dimmed.
......
......
My body froze.
The massive TV head bent down to whisper at me.
My head was crushed. Like my brain was gone, squished between gloved fingers gripping tight.
'I have one thing I can't forgive either.'
'The audience goes missing and dies.'
In my crushed vision from the gloved hand, I kept thinking.
'After the show ends, you send thank-you letters telling them how to meet the guests.'
'Just so they have fun stories for when guests reappear.'
The pressure on my head from the glove lifted.
Instead, it gently patted, fluffing my stuffing back up.
A crying face appeared on the TV.
'I have no intention of convincing you.'
I thought.
'So don't try to convince me either.'
And.
'I don't want to make a talk show that kills and incinerates people, or appear on one.'
......
......
The glove released my head.
And...
My blood ran cold.
But I had no blood, so I could keep thinking...
'You have no right to do that. I never signed a staff contract.'
That's right.
Everything was verbal.
The contract was just scheduled to be signed soon.
'And you said it yourself. You'd let me go if it wasn't fun.'
I stared at the screenless old TV with eyes that couldn't blink.
'Let me go. This is scary and not fun.'
The vintage TV stayed still.
'I have no intention of listening to your persuasion or words here. Just let me go right now.'
......
......
Thud.
Brown placed me back on the desk.
And what came out was...
A softened, sad voice.
He whispered.
No!
'I told you, I won't listen to persuasion!'
I might get dragged in. I'm a doll now. No Silver Coin Serpent either. No. Can't get persuaded...
'I'm quitting. That's the end of the story.'
The TV head pulled away.
Gloved fingers gestured for the staff to remove me.
'......'
'You put the stuffing in. Send me back as I was.'
'Obviously...'
The staff tossed me not on the desk, but on the precarious edge of the guest's side table—like I might fall into a trash bin.
Brown's voice turned impossibly bright and cheerful.
Perfectly talk show-ready.
Then.
Pik.
A strange, thin sound rang out before me, accompanied by a flash.
Something appeared in my unfeeling eyes.
A needle-thin hole pierced through the talk show studio ceiling.
From above, an unnaturally blue light shot down, shining on me.
And...
Holes punched continuously in succession.
Stuffing burst into my view.
'Ah.'
Something
pierced
me...
Is that... the holy fire barrage?
No.
'...Am I dying?'
If this body dies, do I die as a stuffed doll for real?
Then.
I felt hands gripping my stuffed doll tightly.
The host.
Probably trying to stop the stuffing from spilling out of the holed doll.
But the barrage obsessively targeting this doll didn't stop.
My head detached and fell to the floor.
Thud.
Rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble!
The ceiling collapsed.
Transparent, glowing somethings rained down like meteors onto the talk show stage, smashing only the set to pieces.
In my tumbling vision, I saw the host clutching the tattered cloth and stuffing that had been my body, frozen stiff.
Ah.
Just like when the good friend split me in two and panicked.
This guy too...
"...!"
"...Yes."
I came to in a place where I felt nothing again.
In the CCTV-like view before me, Squad Leader Lee Jaheon was moving once more.
The difference: the studio in view shook like it'd been hit by a bomb.
Yes, I know...
You shot me with it...
"Did you intentionally snipe the stuffed doll I was in? To bring me back to this body?"
"Couldn't the host just shove me back into a doll right now?"
Lee Jaheon spoke in a dry voice with eerie words while darting madly fast.
And casually declared another.
"...Yes?"
"......"
I don't know what the Union is, but probably some alien organization or whatever.
So... I could evade the host's pursuit for a while?
Then maybe search the Darkness Exploration Records for a way to shake him off completely while sorting my situation.
In the CCTV-like view, I watched Lizard Squad Leader sprint down the shaking studio corridor amid deafening roars.
"...Have you mapped the exit?"
"...!"
This might actually work for escape.
Whether back to 'Delusion Home Shopping' or elsewhere, as long as I reach the approved safe house, I could catch my breath.
It was a strong temptation, but...
......
Deep down, I knew.
All stopgaps.
'An extremely hostile escape method.'
A weird premonition that this might mean an irreversible choice with the host...
'The host, Brown, could find me anytime.'
So this escape was mere temporary avoidance, not resolution.
Moreover...
"......"
I recalled the scene just before detaching from the stuffed doll.
The host trying to plug my bursting doll.
"......"
Maybe.
"Squad Leader."
"Are you the type of intelligent being easily corrupted by Darkness, Squad Leader?"
'...Okay.'
And one more.
"Even if my body dies, you'll just revert to Squad Leader Lee Jaheon, right?"
......Then.
"Squad Leader."
I swallowed.
"Don't head for the exit. Go to the host instead."
If it's a gamble anyway, I'll try a surefire method myself.
"I'll try exiting another way."