My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television! Chapter 27: Paper

Things in this world are mostly like the tides, having their rises and falls.

That dark cloud which just a few days ago enveloped the Suzuki Section, seemingly pressing down so hard people couldn't catch their breath, had now been thoroughly driven away by a piercingly bright ray of sunlight nad "2.98%".

That moldy sll that had been suppressed for a long ti inside the office seed to beco fresh along with the gentle breeze blowing in from outside the window.

Early morning, TV Tokyo Production Bureau.

The Suzuki Section was still brightly lit.

A peculiar yet incomparably harmonious aroma perated the air—that was the sll of white foam bubbling up when canned beer from a convenience store was opened, the sweet fragrance of the sauce on charcoal-grilled chicken skewers being slightly scorched, and the worldly vitality of rice, fried chicken, and tamagoyaki mixed together after various bento boxes were unsealed.

This celebratory banquet appeared sowhat shabby, even a bit wretched.

The food was placed right on the desks piled high with manuscripts and reference materials. Everyone sat or stood, without any rules or formalities, like a group of guerrillas who had just fought a tragic street battle, sharing the joy of victory in the roughest and simplest manner at a temporary stronghold.

"Cheers!"

On Hashishita Ichiro's face, which normally was always written full of steadiness and depression, a layer of excited red flush glowed at this mont. He raised the beer can in his hand high, as if raising a dal.

"To 'Yamishibai'! To Nohara-kun! To ourselves!"

"Ohhhhhh—!"

Minamura Hoshi and Haseji Kakeru echoed him, practically roaring. Their beer cans violently clinked together, producing a crisp sound. Foam splashed everywhere, but they didn't care in the slightest, tilting their heads back for a fierce chug. The ice-cold liquid slid down their throats, extinguishing the anxiety of the past few days, yet igniting that ball of fla nad "sense of achievent" in their chests.

"Nohara-kun, you're simply a god!"

Minamura Hoshi wiped a handful of beer foam from the corner of his mouth, his eyes frighteningly bright. The look in his eyes towards Nohara Hiroshi had thoroughly evolved from the initial marvel into an almost fanatical worship: "That 'Family Precept' episode, even now when I think about it, my back still feels chilly! That final glance from the grandfather was absolutely incredible! I even dreamt about it last night!"

"Who says it isn't!" Haseji Kakeru grabbed a grilled chicken skewer, took a fierce bite, and mumbled unclearly: "After my older sister watched it, she called to scold . She said that now whenever she sees her family smiling, she feels her heart turn hairy. She even asked , what exactly happened to that boy in the end? Was his entire family eaten by 'that thing'?"

Kitagawa Yao ate the rice ball in her bento with small bites, a smile of having survived a disaster carrying on her face. Looking at Nohara Hiroshi, she said softly, "Nohara-kun, the discussions outside have beco so intense right now. Even on the trains, there are people chatting about our Yamishibai."

Suzuki Kiyoto didn't participate in the young people's clamor. He rely sat to the side, taking small sips of his beer, his gaze gently watching this jubilant scene before him.

On that weather-beaten face, gullies crisscrossed, but at this mont, it seed to have been washed by the rain of joy, radiating an unprecedented brilliance.

He looked at Nohara Hiroshi, who was surrounded in the center by the crowd, his expression completely calm from beginning to end, and an indescribable emotion surged in his heart.

How was this digging up a treasure? This was clearly inviting a god.

Facing everyone's gazes, Nohara Hiroshi rely smiled faintly. He picked up a can of beer and gently clinked it against Suzuki Kiyoto's cup before opening his mouth to speak: "Everyone, it's right to be happy, but now is not the ti to thoroughly relax yet."

His voice wasn't loud, but it seed to possess so kind of magic, instantly silencing the clamorous office. Everyone's gazes subconsciously converged onto him.

"'Talisman Woman', 'Tragic Veneration', 'Family Precept', these three opening episodes are like bait for fishing."

Nohara Hiroshi's gaze swept across the crowd, calmly explaining: "The first episode used elents closest to daily life to tell the audience that our horror occurs right by your side. The second episode used folklore and accidents to deepen this sense of horror. The third episode, then, used an open-ended conclusion to trigger the audience's curiosity and desire for discussion. With these three blows of the axe, as long as it's an audience that can be attracted, they fundantally won't be able to escape."

He paused, the arc of the corners of his mouth taking on a trace of profound aning.

"However, bait is ultimately just bait. The truly good show will only formally begin from tonight's fourth episode. From this episode onward, we are going to set off the first true climax, wave after wave, making everyone imrsed in the world of 'Yamishibai', completely unable to extricate themselves!"

His words caused everyone's hearts to lift up once again.

The three opening episodes were already so terrifying, yet they were unexpectedly just bait? Then what kind of soul-stirring astonishnt would the true climax be?

...

Wednesday, late night, 12:20 AM.

TV Tokyo's signal punctually delivered that eerie children's rhy and drumbeats into thousands of households.

The man wearing the mask pulled open the curtain.

[Yamishibai · Paper]

This ti, the stage of the story moved into the office of an elentary school.

In the dead of night, the entire teaching building had fallen into silence; only the lights in this one office were still on. Under the light, a young female teacher was exhaustedly rubbing her temples. The desk in front of her was piled full of lesson preparation materials and students' howork.

This was an incredibly ordinary night of working overti.

The female teacher let out a long breath of stale air and placed the final handwritten lecture notes onto the scanning panel of the multi-functional printer nearby.

The printer emitted a low hum, like a sleeping steel beast being awakened, and began working. The white paper was slowly swallowed in and slowly spat out from the other end.

The teacher picked up that printed draft, preparing to do the final proofreading.

But the instant her gaze touched the surface of the paper, it solidified.

On that pure white paper, aside from her neat handwriting, there were surprisingly an additional few... bizarre black lines. Those lines weren't thick, but were extrely black, as if drawn with the thickest ink, twisting irregularly, entrenched in the center of the paper. It seed like so kind of ominous totem, and also like a... convergence of malicious intent from so kind of ghost or god.

"Mm? Out of ink?"

The teacher frowned; this was the most common thought. She took the manuscript and printed another copy.

The result was exactly the sa.

Those few eerie black lines were still entrenched in the identical positions, neither increasing nor decreasing, carrying a kind of annoying stubbornness.

"Really, of all the tis..." The teacher grumbled in frustration. However, no matter how she tried to fix it, this printer still had no way to return to normal, and those black lines on the paper beca more and more obvious.

Ultimately turning into... horrifying faces on the white paper!

"Ah!"

The teacher let out a terrified scream, violently loosening her grip, and these white papers printed with terrifying ghostly faces instantly scattered all over the floor with a rustle.

Her heart thumped wildly, her complexion deathly pale. The blood in her entire body seed to solidify in an instant. Her whole person leaned against the desk, panting heavily, and only after a long ti did she recover her wits.

Was... was it an illusion? Was she too tired and her eyes played tricks on her?

It must be so.

Trembling, she gave herself so psychological reassurance. Then, gathering her courage, for the second ti, she slowly, slowly lifted the cover of the printer.

Inside the cover, it was bright and clean as new, empty of anything.

There was absolutely nothing.

"Phew..."

The female teacher finally let out a long breath of relief, her whole person leaning against the printer as if exhausted. She smiled mockingly at herself; sure enough, she was too nervous, too tired. Recently, she had been working overti for several consecutive days for the school's appraisals, so having illusions was normal.

She lifted her hand and exhaustedly rubbed her sore eyes.

The scene also seed to have quieted down.

Everything carried a peaceful atmosphere.

'Tick tock, tick tock.'

It was precisely at this instant.

The terrifying and bizarre music started to appear.

A twisted ghostly creature, without any prior warning, with a violent posture that tore through the field of vision, suddenly appeared on the side of the printer against the wall! It directly and nakedly displayed itself before the eyes of every single audience mber!

That face was so close, as if the next second it would drill out from the television and thoroughly resolve everything!

Sizzle—

The scene instantly cut to black.

The two characters "The End" floated up ruthlessly.

...

"Ah!!!" Inside the Suzuki Section, the terrified screams of Minamura Hoshi, Haseji Kakeru, and Kitagawa Yao instantly rang out.

Even Suzuki Kiyoto and Hashishita Ichiro beside them tightly gripped their pop cans, squeezing the aluminum cans flat, causing the beer to completely spill and scatter out.

Evidently, those two had also been shocked!

Nohara Hiroshi leaned against the sofa in the office, calmly looking at this group of colleagues who had been frightened out of their wits before his eyes, an imperceptible arc curling the corners of his lips.

Jumpscare.

In the era of his previous life where horror movies had involuted to the extre, this simple and rough scaring thod had long been overused, and was even disdained by many veteran horror fans.

But here, in the early 1990s Japan of this parallel world, this was an absolute kill that could be considered a dinsional strike!

People naturally accustod to gradual atmospheric build-up and having the true nature of horror revealed only at the very end of the story were like a group of infantryn who had never seen heavy artillery, still stuck in the warti logic of lining up to be shot.

Whereas Nohara Hiroshi unrcifully smashed a Katyusha rocket directly originating from the future right onto their faces.

Even more incredibly, he perfectly combined this most primal fright with the most modern 'office urban legend'.

Printers, copy machines, these kinds of office equipnt that began to popularize in Japanese workplaces in the 90s, were the most familiar partners every urban white-collar worker complained about the most.

Paper jams, out of ink, inexplicable malfunctions... these everyday annoyances, after the broadcast of the 'Paper' episode, would be bestowed with a completely new, hair-raising aning.

From tonight onward, every overti worker in a late-night office who hears an unusual sound from the printer will probably subconsciously recall that ghostly face stuck to the glass panel. When reaching out to open the cover, they will feel a trace of hesitation and fear originating from the depths of their souls.

He wasn't rely telling a ghost story.

He was creating a new 'urban disease', a contagious psychological virus nad 'Yamishibai'.

This, indeed, was his greatest weapon as a transmigrator.

He looked at that piece of night sky outside the window, dotted with countless lights and looking like black velvet, a surge of pride welling up in his heart.

Under this piece of night sky, there were countless people currently trembling because of the stories from under his pen.

And this was rely just the beginning.