Chapter 11

The circumstances fit.

* * *

The catastrophe began in a Dusk (D)-grade Darkness themed around a 1970s American talk show.

* * *

["Hello, viewers! The joy of Tuesday, the excitement of Tuesday!"]

["You are now watching... The Tuesday Quiz Show!"]

The live broadcast began.

To the upbeat music of a band, the suited host waved at the cheering audience.

It was a typical American talk show.

Except that all the crew members’ faces were blurred out, and the host had an old television for a head.

* * *

The host explains that the talk show has a different theme for each day of the week, but no entries on other days have been recorded.

Entry is possible only into the ■day talk show.

* * *

["Have you all been looking forward to Tuesday? So have I! After all, it’s the only day we get to meet our lovely new faces, our quiz-show contestants!"]

"..."

It matched.

* * *

Beginning with episode 12, the Field Exploration Team entered with a complete answer key compiled from past questions for the ■day talk show’s main segment, the quiz.

All 99 explorations through episode 110 ended in successful escapes without casualties. (Prizes included.)

* * *

["Amazingly... over these past several dozen weeks, not a single contestant has answered incorrectly! Incredible, truly incredible..."]

It. Matched.

* * *

However, in episode 111...

An anomaly occurred on the 100th exploration.

* * *

["Will our contestants get the answers right again this time?"]

BA-BA-BA-BA-BAM!

Spotlights shone to the musical cue.

Seven podiums stood in a semicircle.

Three of them were lit.

Specifically, the ones occupied by me, the supervisor, and the deputy.

["Meet Badger, Peregrine Falcon, and Roe Deer."]

["Let’s give them all a big hand!"]

"Whoooo!"

The invisible audience applauded.

I thought I might faint.

Could it... could it be?

["My goodness, breaking news!"]

"...!"

Making a great fuss, the host took something from a crew member.

["It’s been quite some time since our contestants began answering every question correctly, hasn’t it? An incredible..."]

An incredible...

["98 episodes, I’m told!"]

"...!"

["Which makes today the 99th! Ha ha!"]

I was saved.

'It’s not the 100th...!'

My heart felt ready to leap out of my chest.

'Right. The odds of landing on exactly the 100th would be low.'

I nearly clutched the podium in relief, but restrained myself.

The answer-key PDF for The Tuesday Talk Show I’d received earlier had stated it clearly.

-Anyone who disrupts the broadcast will be incinerated.

Not even a penalty. Incineration.

And this was a live broadcast.

In short, the slightest thing out of place meant death.

["Can our 99th contestants keep the winning streak alive and pass the baton to the 100th? Or will this incredible record come to an end?"]

["Stay tuned and find out!"]

I turned my head.

At their podiums, the deputy and supervisor gave me a little reassuring look or a smile, neither appearing particularly tense.

Just as you’d expect of people who were sure this time would be no different: a ghost story with an established pattern and 99 safe runs accumulated over nearly three years.

'Deep breaths.'

It was fine.

... It would be fine.

I took a deep breath in, then let it out.

["Now then, Roe Deer!"]

"Yes."

["Are you very nervous?"]

"Yes. I’ve never participated in a quiz show like this before."

["Ah, good, good... Then let’s start with an easy one!"]

Strange text appeared on the old television that served as the host’s head.

It was an unfamiliar, ominous writing system I’d never seen before, yet I could read it. A headache and a wave of nausea swept over me, then vanished.

[Question: Choose the item that is not a component of a human being.]

1. Water

2. Iron

3. Oil

4. Soil

"... Number four, soil."

["Correct!"]

From there, the quiz show went... smoothly.

'The subject matter is a little creepy, but the questions aren’t impossible.'

Besides, the list of past questions the Field Exploration Team had smuggled out of this ghost story was certainly proving useful.

They weren’t exactly identical, but close enough that choosing the correct answers was no trouble.

'If anything, having to actually think probably makes mistakes less likely.'

["Unbelievable! Correct!"]

["Again?"]

["Aaaah, ah... He’s struggling to decide. What a dilemma... Yes, number three! What fate awaits Roe Deer, who chose strangulation?? ... Correct! Hooray!"]

The past questions lined up well, and we sailed along without trouble.

Sometimes I deliberately pretended to ponder before answering, doing everything I could to play along with the tone of the broadcast.

'I have to get through this show somehow.'

That obsessive thought consumed my mind.

During a commercial break, the host said something about having me back again. Screaming inwardly, I glossed over it by acting outwardly tempted.

Then came questions two, three, four, five... and on past question nine.

["Roe Deer! Your final question."]

At last, the end of this madness was in sight.

["Amazingly, our other contestants have answered every question correctly, keeping the winning streak alive yet again!"]

["Can Roe Deer complete the final link?"]

At the other podiums, I saw my superiors looking at me, one giving a little wave and the other a nod.

Now all I had to do was answer correctly, and it would be over.

["Are you ready?"]

"Yes."

["Excellent!"]

The question appeared.

[Question: What percentage of blood loss will cause a human being to die?]

1. 40%

2. 45%

3. 50%

4. 55%

"..."

Had they put a trap in the final question?

I steadied my breathing.

"The answer is... number one,"

["Ah, he’s chosen number o—"]

"And number two."

["...!"]

"And numbers three and four... All of them."

["..."]

"On average, a human’s life is in danger after losing around thirty to forty percent of their blood."

["Oh."]

"So losing more than that would also cause death."

["No, no... Unbelievable!"]

The television flashed.

I didn’t think getting it wrong would kill me.

But I didn’t want to give this dangerous ghost story anything to use against me, so I was gritting my teeth, trying to avoid every possible trap.

["You’re saying there are multiple correct answers! Any thoughts of changing your mind?"]

"None."

"Ooooh."

Murmurs rose from the audience.

And... a faceless crew member hurried onto the stage...?

["... Well! I have some astonishing news."]

["The answer our writers prepared was actually number one."]

W-wait.

["But Roe Deer’s answer is far more impressive! More logical too, isn’t it? Isn’t it?"]

"Yes!!" I heard the audience shout.

The host spread his arms.

["Then of course it’s correct! We’ll count it as a perfect answer! Wonderful!"]

"...!"

Hah.

'I’m alive, anyway.'

Why had I dug my own trap and tried to fall into it?! Screaming inwardly with relief, I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again.

Apparently taking that as a display of overwhelming emotion, the host came over and patted my back in something like a hug.

The warmth of his body made it even creepier.

["Wonderful, wonderful!"]

"... Thank you."

["And with that..."]

Gripping the microphone, the host cried out emotionally.

["Amazingly, every one of our contestants has kept the winning streak going! Incredible!"]

POP!

Confetti burst overhead, accompanied by cheers.

At their podiums, my superiors wore expressions that said, “Looks like we’re about done.” I could practically see it through their masks.

["But only one MVP can take home the grand prize. And that is..."]

A drumroll sounded...

The host pointed.

["Roe Deer!"]

"Wooooo!"

The band played a loud celebratory flourish.

["Congratulations! Here, take your prize!"]

"Thank... you."

I accepted the small gift box the host held out.

I was happy. Not because of the gift, of course.

'It’s finally over.'

Once the camera switched off, we could leave.

'Please, just let us go.'

I was beginning to calm down, imagining myself back in an office in a twenty-first-century Seoul high-rise, when...

["Sadly, it’s time to wrap up The Tuesday Quiz Show. Tomorrow, we’ll have an even more fabulous guest for Wednes... Hmm?"]

CLICK.

Out of nowhere.

Suddenly, the four empty podiums lit up.

"...?!"

Figures were already standing there.

Four people looking around in bewilderment.

All wore suits and masks.

'Company employees?'

They had to be another team from the Field Exploration Team.

One mask looked familiar; that person was probably a recruit from my intake.

That much I understood. But...

'Why are we overlapping?'

Could people enter a ghost story while someone else was already inside? No, whether it was possible or not...

'... This is a broadcast mishap.'

Silence filled the studio.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

"..."

Something was wrong.

The employee in the zebra mask standing right beside me seemed to sense it too.

"Wh-what is this, why are there people here alr—"

["Oh dear."]

Flames erupted.

"...!"

The zebra-masked employee burned rapidly and soundlessly, mouth still hanging open as though unable to comprehend what was happening, then crumbled impossibly away.

All that remained was ash piled in the shape of shoes.

The camera swung around hastily.

["... Surprise!"]

["That was a surprise preview of next Tuesday’s contestants!"]

Loud band music hurriedly filled the air, as if to smooth things over.

The camera was now pointed at me.

"...!"

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck!

Desperately keeping my composure, I waved the gift box I’d won in the air.

As if I were thrilled!

POP!

More confetti rained down as the drums thundered. The host drew cheers from the audience.

["We’ll be back tomorrow with an even more entertaining show!"]

["Until then... have a good night!"]

BAM!

To a jaunty guitar flourish, the camera light went out.

"..."

It was over.

It was... over,

Wasn’t it?

Why were we still here?

["Whew. We nearly ruined the live broadcast. Thank goodness we managed to salvage it!"]

The camera was definitely off.

Faceless crew members ran onto the stage, and the audience lights went out.

The band disappeared too.

We had entered a backstage world full of noise and murmuring, as though the cold steel framework beneath had been exposed.

But we did not disappear.

... A chilling premonition crept up my spine.

["Roe Deer! You showed excellent instincts. Any interest in becoming a regular panelist?"]

"... I already have a job."

["Oh dear! Well, we’re always accepting application postcards for our talk show!"]

Why was the ghost story continuing?

The reason was simple.

Our considerate host was keeping the contestants here so he could kindly explain why this had happened.

["Ah, and our new contestants!"]

["You must have been frightened that you might ruin the broadcast. I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate. I trust you. Don’t blame yourselves too much!"]

["And don’t worry. The three of you will get another chance!"]

With a friendly, affable manner, the host addressed the employees who had suddenly arrived partway through—the “new contestants.”

As if there had only ever been three of them.

Meanwhile, the crew swept up the ashes left by the person who had been incinerated.

I thought I might lose my mind.

["I’d love to let you participate right now, but unfortunately, our show is live. We’ll see you next week!"]

But all we had to do was leave.

Please, please, just like this! Let it end here!

["Then, for now, you can all go ho... Hmm?"]

That was when it happened.

Someone carrying a megaphone in one hand ran onto the stage.

Their face was indistinct, as though blurred by the lights, but unlike the other crew members, they were visibly wearing sunglasses.

The figure with the megaphone urgently whispered something to the host.

["...! Ah, oh dear."]

The host turned toward us.

["You see, this is very difficult for me to say, but... er."]

The emoticon on the television screen looked dejected.

["Our show has just been canceled."]

"...!"

["The Tuesday Quiz Show, to be precise. So strictly speaking, my show isn’t over, but, yes."]

["The quiz segment has been replaced."]

What?

["We won’t be able to welcome you as the contestants attempting our 100th consecutive win. I truly want to apologize from the bottom of my heart."]

The host looked so genuinely apologetic and ashamed that even the antenna atop his television head drooped.

"Then... d-does that mean we’ve cleared it?"

"Hah. Haaah..."

I faintly heard the other team’s employees around me, their voices hopeful despite their confusion, fear, and panic.

But the back of my neck was cold with sweat.

'No.'

This turn of events...

* * *

Exploration Log #100

Began in the same studio as previous runs.

However, the program’s name had changed.

The host explained to the confused employees that The Tuesday Quiz Show had been canceled.

He reportedly received disciplinary action because contestants had answered correctly for 99 consecutive episodes, rendering the penalties meaningless and leaving the segment insufficiently sensational.

He stated that the new segment therefore featured subject matter better suited to attracting viewers’ interest...

* * *

["Ah! Just a moment!"]

At a signal from the crew, the host’s television antenna suddenly sprang upright.

["Good news! They’d like to have all of you participate in the new segment too!"]

"...!!"

["It’s even a recorded broadcast, so it’ll be easier than before! Ha ha!"]

["Let’s start filming right away! I’ll only have a supporting role, but yes, I’ll do my very best to make it a great show..."]

"Wait a moment."

Our deputy raised a hand, her expression rigid.

"We’ve already participated in the show, so we’ll be leav—"

["You’re leaving before filming is even over?"]

"...!"

The television screen crackled with static right in front of her face.

["Oh dear... It was all written on the application postcard. Well, if you really can’t participate... I suppose it can’t be helped."]

"..."

["Tell me. Can you not do it?"]

The deputy slowly shifted her eyes until she met my gaze across the way.

I shook my head almost imperceptibly.

She must have realized it too.

“It can’t be helped” didn’t mean he would send her home. It meant he would simply incinerate her.

["So you can! Good."]

An ominous silence.

The studio filled with the breathing of deathly pale company employees.

I was probably one of them.

No, was I even breathing?

["Oh dear! There’s tension in the air. It’s always like this with a new program."]

["Let’s cheer up! Roe Deer, you did wonderfully on the live broadcast! I’m sure you’ll put on another fine performance..."]

Was there some excuse... that would work?

Something plausible I could say?

"Yes. But I didn’t realize we’d be appearing in back-to-back broadcasts."

["Oh?"]

"We might make mistakes."

I gripped the podium until my knuckles turned white.

"Perhaps we could prepare a little more and come back next Tuesday..."

["Ahh! It’s starting! Look, the light’s coming on! Three, two, one..."]

The host murmured excitedly.

There was no reasoning with him.

As if utterly enthralled by the broadcast, he rushed out in front of the camera.

["Hello, viewers! The joy of Tuesday, the excitement of Tuesday!"]

["You are now watching... our talk show’s brand-new segment!"]

I was going to lose my mind.

["Sad to see the quiz show go? There’s no need! Because this is an even more advanced form of quiz show!"]

["They’ve added something to the quiz! What could it be?"]

Reading from the teleprompter, the host waved both hands.

["After all, nothing stirs a weary heart quite like a melody."]

["Especially the voice! A choir—ah, what a beautiful sound!"]

...

["Ha ha, our band needn’t feel left out. We’ve invited a master of an entirely different genre!"]

["Here comes our new guest!"]

The back of the set opened, and it emerged.

The pungent smell of rusted iron. A stench. An enormous, dark pig’s head.

["The Conductor of the Purgatory Choir, the filthy, hideous, magnificent butcher of melody!"]

["That’s right. Our new segment is called... Tuesday’s Choir!"]

Hell had arrived.