Chapter 27: 《paper》
Things in this world are mostly like tides, rising and falling.
Just a few days ago, the dark clouds looming over Suzuki’s Classroom, suffocating everyone, had now been completely dispelled by a piercing sunlight named “2.98%”.
The stale, oppressive smell that had lingered in the office for so long seemed to freshen up with the breeze blowing in from the window.
Early morning, Tokyo Television Production Bureau.
Suzuki’s Classroom was still brightly lit.
The air was filled with a strange yet perfectly harmonious aroma — the scent of white foam from canned beer opened at the convenience store, the sweet fragrance of yakitori sauce slightly charred over charcoal fire, and the worldly life aroma of rice, fried chicken, and tamagoyaki mixed together from various opened bento boxes.
This celebratory feast seemed a bit meager, even a bit disheveled.
The food was placed on the desk piled with manuscripts and materials. Everyone sat or stood without rules or politeness, like a guerrilla team that had just finished a brutal street battle, sharing the joy of victory in their temporary stronghold in the simplest and most brutal way.
“Cheers!”
Ichiro Hashishita’s face, usually filled with steadiness and distress, was now flushed with excited red light. He raised his beer can high, as if holding a medal.
“To An Shizhi! To Nohara-kun! To ourselves!”
“Oh—!”
Hoshi Minamimura and Roji Hase roared in response, their beer cans clinking with a crisp sound, foam splashing everywhere, but they didn’t care, tilting their heads back for a fierce gulp. The cool liquid slid down their throats, extinguishing the anxiety of the past days and igniting the flame of sense of accomplishment in their chests.
“Nohara-kun, you’re simply a god!”
Hoshi Minamimura wiped the beer foam from his mouth, his eyes frighteningly bright, his gaze at Hiroshi Nohara having turned from initial amazement into near-fanatic worship: “That Family Precept episode still gives me chills down my back even now! That final glance from the grandfather was too perfect! I even dreamed about it last night!”
“Who isn’t!” Roji Hase grabbed a skewer of yakitori, bit into it fiercely, and said indistinctly: “My older sister called and scolded me after watching it, saying she now feels creepy whenever she sees family members smile. She even asked me what happened to that boy in the end? Did their whole family get eaten by ‘that thing’?”
Yō Kitagawa took small bites of the onigiri in her bento, a smile of aftermath of a disaster on her face, and said softly to Hiroshi Nohara: “Nohara-kun, there’s so much discussion outside now; people are even talking about our An Shizhi on the train.”
Kiyoto Suzuki did not join the young people’s clamor; he just sat aside, sipping his beer in small mouthfuls, gazing mildly at the merry scene before him.
His weathered face, full of deep grooves, now seemed washed over by joyful rain, radiating an unprecedented radiance.
Looking at Hiroshi Nohara, who remained calmly composed at the center surrounded by everyone, a surge of indescribable emotion welled up in his heart.
This was not just digging up a treasure; it was clearly inviting a god.
Facing everyone’s gazes, Hiroshi Nohara just smiled faintly. He picked up a can of beer, gently clinked it against Kiyoto Suzuki’s glass, and then spoke: “Everyone, it’s right to be happy, but now is not the time to fully relax.”
His voice was not loud, yet it had some kind of magic, instantly quieting the noisy office. All eyes subconsciously gathered on him.
“Fu Nü, Bai Can, Family Precept — these opening three episodes are like fishing bait.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s gaze swept over everyone, calmly explaining: “The first episode uses the most everyday elements to tell the audience that our terror happens right beside you. The second episode deepens that terror with folklore and accidents. The third episode uses an open-ended conclusion to spark the audience’s curiosity and desire to discuss. After these three blows, any audience hooked won’t easily get away.”
He paused, a meaningful curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“But bait is just bait. The real show officially begins with tonight’s fourth episode. From this one onward, we’ll unleash the first true climax, wave after wave, immersing everyone in the world of An Shizhi, unable to extricate themselves!”
His words made everyone’s hearts tense up again.
The opening three episodes were already so terrifying, yet merely bait? Then what would the true climax be like?
……
Wednesday, late night, 12:20 a.m.
Tokyo Television Station’s signal, as scheduled, delivered that eerie nursery rhyme and drumbeat into thousands of households.
The masked man drew open the curtain.
【An Shizhi · Paper】
This time, the story’s stage moved to an elementary school’s office.
Late at night, the entire teaching building was silent, with only the light in this one office still on. Under the lighting, a young female teacher was fatiguely rubbing her temples. Her desk was piled with lesson preparation materials and students’ homework.
This was an utterly ordinary overtime night.
The female teacher let out a long breath, placing the last handwritten lecture notes onto the scanner panel of the multifunctional printer beside her.
The printer emitted a low hum, like a sleeping steel beast awakened, starting to work. White paper was slowly swallowed in, then slowly spat out from the other end.
The teacher picked up the printed manuscript, preparing for the final proofreading.
But her gaze froze the instant it touched the paper.
On the clean white paper, besides her neat handwriting, there were several… eerie black lines. The lines were not thick but extremely black, as if drawn with the thickest ink, twisting irregularly, coiling in the center of the paper like some ominous totem or a gathering of malice from some ghost god.
“Hmm? Out of ink?”
The teacher frowned; this was the most common thought. She took the manuscript and printed another copy.
The result was identical.
Those eerie black lines still coiled in the same position, neither increasing nor decreasing, with an irritating stubbornness.
“Damn, at a time like this…” The teacher complained annoyedly. But no matter how she fixed it, the printer wouldn’t return to normal, and the black lines on the paper grew more obvious.
Finally turning into… terrifying faces on sheets of white paper!
“Ah!”
The teacher screamed in fright, letting go abruptly, and the white papers printed with horrific ghost faces scattered all over the floor with a clatter.
Her heart pounded wildly, her face deathly pale, her blood seeming to freeze in an instant. She leaned on the desk, gasping heavily, taking a long while to recover.
Was it… an illusion? Was she too tired and seeing things?
It must be.
Trembling, she psyched herself up, then mustered courage to slowly, slowly lift the printer’s cover again.
Inside the cover, it was pristine and empty.
Nothing at all.
“Phew…”
The female teacher finally let out a long sigh of relief, slumping exhaustedly against the printer. She smiled self-mockingly; sure enough, she was too nervous and tired. Lately, for the school’s evaluation, she’d been working overtime for days, so hallucinations were normal.
She raised her hand, fatiguely rubbing her sore eyes.
The image seemed to quiet down as well.
Everything was in a peaceful atmosphere.
‘Drip-drip’
It was this instant.
The horrific eerie music began to appear.
A twisted ghost thing appeared without warning, in a violent posture tearing through the view, suddenly at the printer’s position against the wall! Directly exposed nakedly before every audience’s eyes!
That face was so close, as if it would drill out of the television the next second, completely resolving everything!
Sizzle—
The image cut to black instantly.
The words “The End” appeared coldly.
……
“Ah!!!” Suzuki’s Classroom immediately echoed with screams from Hoshi Minamimura, Roji Hase, and Yō Kitagawa.
Even Kiyoto Suzuki and Ichiro Hashishita nearby tightly gripped their cans, crushing the aluminum cans, with beer dripping out.
Clearly, they were shocked too!
Hiroshi Nohara leaned on the classroom sofa, calmly watching his colleagues scared out of their wits, a subtle curve at his mouth.
Sudden face jumpscare.
In his previous life’s era where horror films had rolled up to the extreme, this simple and crude scare tactic had long been overused, even scorned by many veteran horror fans.
But here, in this parallel world’s early 1990s Neon, it was a dimensionally reducing strike of an ultimate kill!
People of this era were used to gradual atmosphere buildup, used to revealing the terror’s true face only at the story’s end. They were like infantry who had never seen heavy artillery, still stuck in the logic of line-firing warfare.
And Hiroshi Nohara mercilessly smashed a Katyusha rocket from the future right into their faces.
Even more brilliant, he perfectly combined this most primal scare with the most modern “office ghost story”.
Printers, copiers — these office equipment that became widespread in Neon’s workplaces in the 90s were the most familiar and most complained-about companions for every urban white-collar.
Paper jams, out of ink, inexplicable malfunctions… these daily annoyances, after this Paper episode aired, would be given a whole new, spine-chilling meaning.
Starting tonight, every overtime worker hearing strange noises from the printer in a late-night office would instinctively think of that ghost face stuck on the glass panel, and feel a hesitation and fear from the depths of their soul when reaching to lift the cover.
He was not just telling a ghost story.
He was creating a new “urban disease”, a contagious psychological virus named An Shizhi.
This was his greatest weapon as a traverser.
He looked at the night sky outside the window, dotted with countless lights like black velvet, a surge of pride welling in his heart.
Under this night sky, countless people were trembling because of the stories from his pen.
And this was merely a beginning.
