Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work Novel - Chapter 120

Click.

The ancient television hums to life.

Its dark screen swallows my vision, consumes my thoughts.

I am glued.

I must observe.

Channel fixed!

A special transmission,

just for you,

is now

broadcasting. Soft, upbeat orchestral music fills the silence.

Then, a monochrome film begins to play.

Featuring: Kim Soleum

A weary young professional, perhaps in their late twenties, dressed in a somber black suit.

At times, they sit at a desk, their face bare as they draft endless documents. At other moments, they don a peculiar horned mask, narrowly dodging death while navigating the perilous landscapes of urban legends.

It’s me.

Feeling depleted?

Drained?

Crushed by an unending stream of tasks, venomous words, and corporate machinations?

Plagued by anxiety, unable to trust a soul, living in constant dread of your next demise?

When such burdens weigh you down, you should settle before a screen and experience something fresh and entertaining!

I see myself, listless, slumped before a TV after returning to my company-issued apartment.

I’m watching a children’s cartoon, a feeble attempt to quell my terror.

But the episode concludes swiftly, as children’s programming often does.

I sit, lost in a trance, gazing at the blank display, before shuffling to my room to seek sleep.

Have you ever feared the show’s conclusion?

The dawn of another day?

Did you recoil at the thought of returning to a profession that, day by day, chokes you with stress, apprehension, and torment?

Is it true that the deeper you ponder, the more ensnared and terrified you become, as if no alternative path exists?

Are you enduring the insufferable, simply because you believe this to be the only righteous course?

……

I… I…

For individuals such as yourself!

Hold on. Do not despair. Breathe deeply.

A flawless substitute,

A new route has found its way to you!

Boom!

On the screen, a brilliant spotlight illuminates my bedroom door.

The door dramatically swings inward, unveiling a shadowy figure in a crisp brown suit, their head replaced by a vintage television set.

It’s the Host.

The answer you’ve been anticipating!

I leap from my bed, extend my hand to the Host in a relieved handshake. Without a moment’s hesitation, I fling the mask and briefcase out the window.

With a mere snap of the Host’s fingers, the company housing dissolves into dust, revealing a dazzling, brilliantly lit studio.

Standing center stage, the Host and I radiate pure joy.

Scenes I’ve never experienced blend seamlessly with my memories, piercing my mind with their unsettling, disorienting veracity.

It’s precisely like reality.

The new talk show Host is sharp-witted, captivating, brimming with humor, and always attentive and empathetic to your concerns!

Embrace this perfect proposition from the one you personally beckoned, and everything will improve.

It’s the kind of opportunity no one would dare decline.

Prepare for your transformed existence!

No.

No, I.

I need to return home…

Oh, dear!

Struggling with nostalgia?

The scene shifts.

It’s me again, but not my past self.

It’s me, now.

Gazing into the television.

Our eyes meet.

Face to face.

Featuring: You

I see my reflection on the screen as if in a mirror.

But the me on the screen appears distraught, their face contorted in a grimace, on the verge of tears.

No, that’s not me. I’m not making that expression right now… am I? Am I frowning? Stop! I’m getting lightheaded. I press both hands against my face, trying to regain my composure.

My vision darkens.

But the TV remains luminous.

Beneath my face, a caption materializes:

Why the constant longing for home?

Do you crave the bliss of escaping an uncomfortable, oppressive environment?

Do you weep through the night, aching for peaceful sleep devoid of fear or nightmares?

Fear not.

The ultimate talk show awaits you!

No.

This is a special message for you—yes, you!—the current viewer:

The crew members of the greatest talk show have no faces.

No unease from unfamiliar visages. No awkward interactions. Merely the ideal workplace.

Join us now!

This is madness.

Faceless colleagues? Who would ever desire that? Certainly not I—

In this workspace, no one struggles to conceal their true self.

And neither should you, dear viewer.

Feel liberated to reveal your authentic self!

Your talents and insights will flourish in this unparalleled position.

The legendary Host has personally rejected innumerable applications to reserve this very spot for you!

……

It’s a role so enticing, no one would contemplate refusal.

Welcome to your new sanctuary!

No, NO!

He deliberately keeps using the word “home.” He knows I yearn for home. That’s his tactic.

But what I desire isn’t a new home. I’ve never wanted that.

What I want…

What I yearn for… is to return to the world I originally inhabited, the familiar world. That place.

A place where I don’t have to worry about being devoured by monsters on the street. A place where ghost stories are just entertainment. My friends and family are all there.

And I mustn’t forget!

I hold the silver ring in my hand right now.

I can resist this. I can resist this. The image on the TV is not me.

I am not smiling.

You will find happiness.

In your new sanctuary.

I will not be swayed.

I am returning to my original home.

That is not home.

My purpose is to return home, and that objective will never be reversed.

In your new sanctuary. This insane talk show is not my home. This insane talk show is not my home.

THIS INSANE TALK SHOW IS NOT MY HOME!!

[Hmm.]

Brief

technical adjustments

in progress…

The television screen fractured.

“Hah…”

I exhaled, collapsing onto the floor.

The frigid tiles of the cramped train lavatory grounded me back to reality.

Or so I believed.

[Understood, Mr. Soleum.]

In the next instant, I stood within a cozy studio.

No, this space had always been a studio.

But this small, intimate area had no audience yet. Only two comfortable armchairs faced each other.

And before me, extending a hand with a solemn demeanor, stood the TV-headed Host.

[Oh dear, you appear quite stressed… Why don’t we settle down first? Adjust your attire, wipe away the blood, and let’s have a more composed discussion.]

[It seems the promotional message was a bit too physically and mentally stimulating for my friend.]

Soft piano melodies drifted through the room.

[I overdid it, didn’t I? After all, you lack media experience. Let’s take a moment to collect ourselves.]

With a sweep of the Host’s hand, a steaming mug materialized on the table between the two chairs.

…Hot chocolate.

[Ah, do you recall? It’s the beverage I always recommended whenever you felt drained, Mr. Roe Deer. Chocolate! Nothing soothes a weary body quite like something warm and comforting…]

A smiling emoticon filled the TV screen, and its antenna perked up slightly, as if with excitement.

It busily stirred in some marshmallows.

[This is my first time serving it directly, though. When I was merely a plush form, I always had to rely on others for such tasks.]

“……”

[There were so many things I couldn’t accomplish in that shape. Now, come on. Let’s take a break.]

Following the gentle suggestion, I found myself naturally sinking into the chair.

…Because there was no other recourse.

But surprisingly, the Host did not press me further. It didn’t force the hot chocolate upon me or make any sudden movements.

While I bandaged my arm and stemmed the bleeding myself, the Host simply waited—silent, patient.

It waited like a considerate interviewer, saying nothing, allowing me to regain my composure.

Gradually, my scattered thoughts began to coalesce.

[Feeling a touch calmer, Mr. Roe Deer? Take a deep breath, yes… Let’s have a proper conversation.]

The Host clasped its hands together and leaned forward politely from the opposite chair.

[You’ve made your stance clear—you absolutely refuse to relinquish your current position. Am I correct?]

“……”

I nodded slowly, a chill sweat trickling down my spine.

The antenna on the TV head tilted slightly, as if intrigued.

[That’s peculiar, so very peculiar… You detest this job, Mr. Roe Deer!]

“…!”

[We’ve had so many discussions about it. I’ve absorbed your countless grievances about how much you despise this work and how you never wish to perform it again once your objective is achieved.]

But that was solely because I had to persevere until my goal was met.

To utilize the wish ticket and return home, I had no alternative but to endure.

[Just a moment.]

[Yes, Mr. Roe Deer, this is precisely what I wished to address!]

[My friend—you declare a desperate desire to go home. And, in truth…]

The Host leaned in and whispered.

[I understand why you claim to desire going home, Mr. Roe Deer.]

Why would there need to be a rationale for someone to wish to return home?

I tensed, bracing for whatever illogical argument it was about to present.

I simply needed to let it speak and let it pass.

[Oh, this may be startling, but please maintain your calm.]

But the Host’s voice lowered further, transforming into a soft whisper, compelling my attention.

[It’s because…]

I couldn’t help but lean in, straining my ears to hear.

[You actually do not wish to go home.]

……

What?

[Deep down, you already comprehend this, don’t you?]

[You are bewildering yourself, misinterpreting situations, and forming biases due to two potent emotions.]

[Fear and desire.]

What are you asserting right now…?

[Oh, Mr. Roe Deer… You don’t pine for home, and you don’t perceive being home as inherently good. You are merely terrified and wretched with your current circumstances.]

“……!”

[Now, Mr. Roe Deer, do you genuinely abhor the fact that the narratives you once cherished have become reality?]

[Did you not feel even a faint tremor of excitement or fascination seeing your imaginings spring to life? Are you truly being honest when you claim to only detest it?]

I don’t…

I don’t hate it as much as I fear it because it’s too perilous.

[Peril! Ah, yes, a classic and esteemed alibi. But let us consider this, Mr. Roe Deer.]

The antique television set, replacing the Host’s head, crackled faintly.

[Is the ‘home’ you yearn to rejoin truly secure?] Images flickered across the TV screen—grisly black-and-white news clips.

[War, destitution, climate catastrophe, terrorism, plagues… and all the myriad small, horrific tragedies. Hell can visit anyone, and you are no exception.]

[In any reality, we cannot select which tragedy will strike. Unless it’s on a broadcast, of course!]

But that’s…

[Oh, you already know, deep down. The place you label ‘home’ and this place are not truly so disparate.]

[Does it matter whether the creatures from folklore materialize or whether genuine monsters roam the thoroughfares? What matters is your agony.]

Brown spread his fingers, folding them one by one as he enumerated various calamities.

[Death that descends without warning? Tell me, does such a place exist where death announces its advent beforehand? It’s equally terrifying everywhere.]

[Your tranquility in that world is just as fragile and meaningless. It can be shattered by the push of a button by some deranged despot…] [Ultimately, isn’t this merely about your subjective experience, Mr. Roe Deer?] I stared blankly at the TV.

[And subjective experiences are not truth. They’re skewed perceptions unique to you.]

[Set aside your preconceptions, Friend.]

That… that cannot be true…

……

……

Right?

It felt as though something didn’t quite align, but I couldn’t articulate a rebuttal.

It sounded persuasive.

But surely, this isn’t solely about my perception.

[That’s quite alright. Acceptance always requires time. This Brown is always here to deliberate with you… Just as always!]

[For now, let us advance this dialogue further, shall we? Let’s delve a little deeper.]

Brown’s voice softened as he inquired,

[What is it that you genuinely desire, Mr. Soleum?]

[Let’s contemplate beyond ‘going home’ for a moment.]

……

What do I truly… No, wait.

How does he possess such extensive knowledge of my predicament?

He is completely deciphering my thoughts.

How much does he know? How profoundly has he understood me?

And if he already knows my thoughts, does arguing hold any significance? Is there even an avenue for escape?

Wait. Can he perceive this thought too? To what extent can the Host read my mind? Does he know about the insights I’ve gleaned from the Dark Exploration Records… 

[Mr. Soleum.]

I felt as though I was losing my mind.

The fear was stifling me. I merely wished to flee this situation…

[Precisely! That’s it!]

Huh?

[You’ve finally recognized it, Mr. Soleum. What your heart truly craves!]

The Host snapped its fingers with a resounding SNAP—

[To escape fear.]

“!!”

The TV screen moved closer.

[And observe here, we possess a swift and guaranteed method…]

How to

Escape Fear:

Join Brown

and Co-create a Talk Show

[You will be comfortable and find joy in my studio.]

[With the fervent spirit of a show creator, your ingenuity and brilliance will shine even brighter when fear is absent. This Brown fully guarantees it.]

[A workplace where overthinking is unnecessary—simply focus on crafting magnificent shows. Free from any other perils, welcome to the studio of this legendary Host.]

The words sound identical, yet they feel profoundly different.

I no longer find them absurd.

That’s terrifying.

[Hush now, shh. No need to be afraid. Let’s attend to this Brown’s words…]

[Now, Friend, can you take a moment to look at your hand? Yes, just like that… What do you perceive?]

…The silver ring on my index finger.

[Correct! And what does its presence signify?]

……

‘That I—haven’t been corrupted.’

It means my judgment hasn’t been consumed by the anomaly, and I’m in a state where I can think clearly, resist mentally, and make rational decisions like any human being.

[That’s right! If this were a quiz show, you’d have secured a prize—how unfortunate.]

[In any case, this implies your current decision is not erroneous. Inhale deeply and relax.]

[How do you feel at this precise moment?]

I—

[Allow me to surmise… ‘Brown’s words make sense, and perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to attempt it, just this once?’ Is that right?]

……

……

But…!

[Exactly!]

[Now, let us seize this opportunity together, Friend.]

Brown stands, adjusting his suit with the composure of a business partner poised to finalize a deal.

[All that is required is a handshake.]

[No convoluted contracts are necessary between us. Just a handshake, and we shall commence our collaboration.]

……

[Do you not wish to spend tranquil days free from fear and sorrow? All you require is a stronger companion by your side and a more gratifying profession ahead.]

[And if, by chance, you find it utterly unfulfilling… you can return to your original workplace.]

……

“Truly?”

[Truly.]

……

[Grasp this chance, Friend.]

[This is your moment.]

I raised my trembling hand.

And extended it.

Towards him.

[That’s it.]

Firmly.

The Host’s large hand completely enveloped mine in a handshake.

[You will not regret this, Friend.]

The surroundings illuminated.

Lights streamed from every direction, and the cramped studio expanded, revealing itself as it emerged from the shadows…

[Now, introducing your new workplace, Mr. Soleum! Your new colleagues! Your new life!]

A pristine set, a stage adorned with glittering bulbs, and above it, a classic golden sign glowing with elegance…

[The thrill of observation, the joy of connection, the excitement of unforeseen developments, anticipation—all encapsulated within this modest space that desires nothing but the audience’s applause.]

Brown’s Late-Night Talk Show

I… [Congratulations on becoming an integral part of it, Mr. Soleum.]

…had successfully transitioned careers.