Chapter 10: Audit Department
Urban legends are truly an extremely important branch derived from the themes of neon horror stories.
Unlike the kind of terror mixed with ancient ghosts and monsters’ divine names.
This kind of urban legend…
Is just like the horror that extends from a little unusual incident inserted into the atmosphere of normal work, normal study, or even normal life happening around oneself, creating a chilling fear upon deeper thought!
If just watching at first, there might be no feeling, but the more you watch, the more terrifying it becomes, and the more you recall, the more afraid you get.
Even combining it with some similar things you’ve encountered yourself.
Giving the mind a sense of terror that perhaps you’ve experienced yourself!
Therefore.
In this classroom, Kiyoto Suzuki slowly exhaled a stifled breath and directly said the three words “success.”
And right beside him, whether Ichiro Hashishita, Hoshi Minamimura, Roji Hase, or Yō Kitagawa, all showed expressions of fear and relief at this moment, as well as slowly breaking free from the horror atmosphere and revealing joy.
This was indeed a success!
Even they themselves were startled now, and felt an extremely novel sense of terror, so could the audience remain unmoved?
“Great!” Kiyoto Suzuki stood up directly.
He picked up that freshly recorded video tape, as if appraising a rare treasure: “Let’s go, Nohara-kun, Hashishita-kun, we’re heading to the Audit Department right now! I want those guys to see what exactly Suzuki’s Classroom has produced!”
He couldn’t wait to showcase his classroom’s results!
……
In the corridor of Tokyo Television Station’s headquarters building, it was long and quiet, with white lighting evenly spilling down from the ceiling, stretching people’s shadows thin and long.
The air was filled with the icy cold scent unique to central air conditioners, mixed with dust and the heat dissipation from electronic equipment.
Kiyoto Suzuki walked at the front, his back straight, and in his fifty-year-old body, hot-blooded energy seemed to surge like that of a twenty-year-old.
Hiroshi Nohara and Ichiro Hashishita followed behind him, one calm, one nervous.
They were like a lone army.
About to charge into a heavily guarded pass.
The Audit Department was on the same floor as the Production Bureau, but the atmosphere was completely different.
It was even quieter here, and the passing personnel all wore meticulous serious expressions.
This was the first judgment platform for all programs, deciding whether a creative idea could make it to the screen or be forever sealed in the file cabinet.
However, when they reached the Audit Department doorway, they saw a group of people noisily standing there, completely out of place with the solemnity of the area.
The leader was slightly plump, with shiny slicked-back hair, wearing an expensive suit, and an arrogant smile on his face.
It was Masao Iwata.
Masao Iwata clearly saw them too, and the smile on his face grew even wider, carrying a cat-toying-with-a-mouse playfulness.
“Section Chief Suzuki, why are you at the Audit Department? What a rare guest.” He raised his chin, his voice neither loud nor soft, yet clear enough for everyone in the corridor to hear: “What, coming to submit a project for review too? I heard your classroom has nothing decent to show this quarter, right?”
Kiyoto Suzuki’s face instantly darkened.
He looked coldly at Masao Iwata and said in a deep voice: “Iwata-kun, whether our classroom has proposals is none of your concern.”
“Oh come on, don’t say that.” Masao Iwata exaggeratedly waved his hand, and the few lackeys behind him let out echoing laughter: “We’re all colleagues, it’s only right to care a little. I’m here to submit a project for review too, aren’t I?”
He smugly raised the exquisitely bound proposal in his hand, with the cover emblazoned in gold lettering—《Oni-bō Samurai》.
Beside it was the video tape he had already produced.
“We hired the most famous horror novelist in the industry to write the script, specially went to an ancient temple in Kyoto for location shooting, and commissioned a renowned animation production team to create an unprecedented era drama horror classic.” Masao Iwata’s gaze swept over Kiyoto Suzuki, finally landing on Hiroshi Nohara behind him.
His eyes were filled with scrutiny and contempt.
“Oh? This is… a newbie?” He feigned surprise as he asked, then as if suddenly remembering something, said with realization: “I remember now, you’re that manga artist, called… Nohara-kun, right?”
Hiroshi Nohara didn’t speak, just calmly looked back at him.
“Heh heh.” Masao Iwata laughed, the laughter filled with undisguised malice: “A manga artist, not staying home to draw your comics properly, what are you doing at the television station? Think drawing comics has no future, so you came to Tokyo Television Station to be a loser and scrape by?”
This remark was extremely vicious.
It not only insulted Hiroshi Nohara personally, but also denied his identity and value as a creator.
Ichiro Hashishita’s fist clenched instantly, his face flushed red, trembling with anger.
“Iwata!” Kiyoto Suzuki roared, stepping forward like an enraged lion: “Watch your words!”
Insulting his subordinate right in front of him.
That was equivalent to insulting him!
If he didn’t stand up for his subordinate, what authority would he have left? Workplace bullying and oppression were common in neon society.
Among colleagues in the same group, this kind of bullying and oppression was commonplace.
But once a junior is bullied outside, if the senior who usually bullies and oppresses doesn’t stand up for the junior, it means their prestige is gone! It means incompetence! It means they’re trash!
In neon, it’s an extremely severe social death!
Of course, Kiyoto Suzuki had to stand up.
“What did I do?” Masao Iwata spread his hands innocently: “I’m just concerned about the newbie. After all, Tokyo Television Station isn’t a place for just anyone. Here it’s about strength, achievements, not getting by with a few ridiculous drawings.”
He emphasized “ridiculous drawings” heavily, his gaze scraping across Hiroshi Nohara’s face like a knife.
The gunpowder in the air was so thick it was about to explode.
At that moment, the door to the Audit Department office opened.
A woman in a sharp professional suit and gold-rimmed glasses walked out. She appeared to be in her thirties, with delicate features, but her expression carried the icy authority of someone long in a superior position.
“What’s the noise outside?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it immediately quieted the noisy corridor.
Masao Iwata’s arrogance receded by three degrees, replaced by an enthusiastic smile: “Ah, Section Chief Takeshita, it’s nothing, just catching up with Section Chief Suzuki.”
“Section Chief Aiai Takeshita.” At this time, Kiyoto Suzuki also slightly bowed his head to show respect.
Hiroshi Nohara thought of this woman’s identity.
Aiai Takeshita.
Section Chief of the Animation Audit Section in the Audit Department, a woman renowned in the station for her impartiality and sharp eye.
Her gaze swept over both groups, especially giving Masao Iwata a disgusted glance, then said flatly: “Catch up in the break room. This is a workplace. Give me the project materials for review, you can go.”
Her tone brooked no argument.
Masao Iwata immediately beamed with a smile and handed over that exquisite 《Oni-bō Samurai》 proposal, adding diligently: “Section Chief Takeshita, this is a project personally reviewed by Deputy Director Takada, please take a good look.”
Aiai Takeshita took it expressionlessly, only her brow tip twitching imperceptibly at the words “Deputy Director Takada.”
“Section Chief Takeshita, this is our proposal and video tape.”
Kiyoto Suzuki also stepped forward, handing over the plain video tape and a few simple explanatory documents.
Compared to Iwata’s thick, artwork-like proposal, Suzuki’s submission materials looked pathetically meager.
Aiai Takeshita took the video tape, weighed it, then glanced at the handwritten title on the cover—《An Shizhi》.
She said nothing, just nodded to them, then turned and walked back into the office, shutting both sides’ grudges and expectations behind the door.
The door clicked shut.
Masao Iwata smugly glanced at Kiyoto Suzuki, mouthing two silent words: “Trash.”
Then, he led his people away laughing triumphantly.
Kiyoto Suzuki’s body trembled slightly with anger, staring deathly at Masao Iwata’s back, his fists clenched white-knuckled.
“Section Chief.” Hiroshi Nohara spoke softly: “Let’s go back.”
Kiyoto Suzuki turned his head, seeing Hiroshi Nohara’s still calm face, and that towering rage was gradually suppressed.
He sighed deeply, patted Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder, glanced at the dejected Ichiro Hashishita, and said deeply: “Let’s go.”
But as Kiyoto Suzuki turned, the chest he had puffed out proudly in front of Masao Iwata suddenly slumped.
Especially thinking of Masao Iwata’s obviously exquisite proposal and video tape.
In his heart…
There was a bit more uncertainty.
