Chapter 81: Ratings Break 10 In Five Minutes! Despair In Iwata’s Classroom!
Kumamoto Prefecture, Oyama Family Home.
July 1st, 8:55 PM.
On the low table in the living room, the iron pot of sukiyaki was bubbling with steam. The sweet aroma of soy sauce, mirin, and beef fat enveloped the entire room like the gentlest of tentacles, wrapping it in a warm and happy atmosphere.
This should have been a perfect family dinner.
If it weren’t for the gloomy expression on Yoshiharu Oyama’s face, the head of the household, as if the whole world owed him two bottles of premium sake.
“Bang!”
He slammed his Juyondai sake cup onto the table with a loud thud. The crisp sound startled even the fatty beef simmering in the pot.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
Mother Masae Oyama was using her long chopsticks to pick out well-seasoned mushrooms and tofu for her daughters. She glanced at her husband’s cloud-covered face, a hint of a wry smile in her tone: “You’ve had that look on your face since earlier. Who has displeased our Dean of Students today?”
“Hmph!”
Yoshiharu Oyama snorted a breath mixed with the scent of alcohol. He picked up his sake cup and gulped down the expensive sake as if it were plain water, his voice filled with suppressed disappointment and indignation: “Who else? It’s my ungrateful old friends!”
“We had plans today to go to ‘Torikizoku’. My treat! We booked a private room! We’d drink sake and watch Hiroshi’s program premiere, letting them see how accomplished my son-in-law, Hiroshi Nohara, is!”
As he spoke, he slapped his thigh with excitement, a look of pride, reminiscent of the ancestor of Versailles literature, appearing on his usually stern face.
Then, he adopted an angry expression: “And what happened? One by one, at the last minute, they all claimed something came up at home! One said his wife had a stomachache, another said his son needed tutoring, and one even more ridiculous claim was that his Akita dog was giving birth! Excuses! All excuses!”
Listening to her father’s indignant accusations, the eldest daughter, Masae, who had been quietly eating konjac threads beside him, couldn’t help but let out a snicker.
She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, but her gentle eyes had already curved into two beautiful crescent moons.
“Dad.”
She put down her chopsticks, a hint of suppressed amusement in her usually composed expression: “Last month, didn’t you brag every day that Hiroshi Nohara’s World of the Strange would be broadcast on July 1st?”
“Yes! So what?” Yoshiharu Oyama puffed out his chest indignantly. “As a father-in-law, it’s only natural for me to help promote my son-in-law’s show!”
“And didn’t you also add a comment after every news article saying, ‘This is my unaccomplished son-in-law, Hiroshi Nohara’s work. It’s nothing special, please take care of it’?” Masae Oyama asked with a smile.
“…There was that.” Yoshiharu Oyama’s voice dropped an octave involuntarily, and his gaze began to wander.
“And didn’t you also specially show others photos of that Toyota Crown that Hiroshi-kun drove and photos of him treating you to a meal, saying things like, ‘Ah, young people just like to spend money. Such a good car, and he doesn’t even maintain it. It really worries me as an elder’?”
“I… I was…” Yoshiharu Oyama’s old face began to turn red at a visible rate.
“Hahahaha!”
Before he could even come up with a defense, his youngest daughter, Mage, was laughing so hard she almost spat out the pan-fried tofu she was eating.
“Dad! You’re hilarious!”
As she laughed, she slapped the table. Her big, dark eyes were filled with schadenfreude: “This isn’t promotion, Dad, this is showing off! Your friends must have been so sick of your bragging that they didn’t dare to come to your ‘banquet of doom’!”
“Nonsense!”
His daughters having so mercilessly exposed his intentions, Yoshiharu Oyama’s old face instantly turned a shade of liver-red. He pointed at the television, forcing a change of subject: “Quiet! The program is starting! Everyone watch silently!”
As soon as he spoke, the eerie and ethereal opening theme music of the TV screen arrived as promised.
The moment Eiji Kurosawa’s face, etched with the wisdom of years, appeared on the screen, a synchronized gasp erupted from the Oyama family’s living room.
“Huh!? Isn’t that Director Eiji Kurosawa?!”
Yoshiharu Oyama was the first to sit up straight from the tatami mats, astonished. “When I was young, I loved watching his Samurai series! How did this kid Hiroshi manage to invite him?!”
“He’s so handsome…” Mage cupped her face in her hands, pink bubbles already forming in her big eyes. “This kind of mysterious and steady man is exactly my ideal type! Oh, but Hiroshi Nohara, my brother-in-law, is good too, he’s rich and handsome~”
Yoshiharu Oyama glanced at her but said nothing.
Watching television was more important.
Amidst the family’s discussions, a mix of shock and infatuation, the story officially began.
When the heroine, Xiao Xunhua, who possessed a unique superpower to perceive people’s hearts by touching objects, appeared, everyone was captivated by the novel premise.
“Wow, that power is amazing! Wouldn’t that mean she can’t hide any secrets?”
“This actress is so beautiful, and her acting is so good. Look at her terrified expression, it’s so real!”
The plot took a sharp turn. When the heroine identified the seemingly refined man as the serial killer and decided to strike first, the entire Oyama family held their breath for her.
“Masae, look, this heroine is so brave!” Masae Oyama nervously grasped her eldest daughter’s hand.
“Yes, Mom, but… isn’t she being a bit too reckless?” Masae’s face was also filled with worry.
Only Yoshiharu Oyama, with his keen intuition as a Dean of Students, frowned. “Something’s not right. This story can’t be this simple. That man doesn’t look like a bad guy.”
However, when the handsome and wealthy second male lead appeared and helped the heroine successfully eliminate the murderer, everyone unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief.
“That’s great! The bad guy is finally gone!” Mage clapped her hands happily.
But just then, on the screen, the plot delivered a stunning twist that would overturn everything.
When the heroine touched the work notebook belonging to the male lead police officer, when she realized she had killed the wrong person, when the doorbell rang outside, belonging to the true demon, and when that gentle face finally turned into a ferocious demon face…
“Aaaah—!”
Following the heroine’s despairing scream that pierced the sky, the Oyama family’s living room fell into a deathly silence.
Masae Oyama and Masae instinctively hugged each other, their faces ashen.
Mage covered her eyes with her hands, yet couldn’t resist peeking through her fingers, her small face filled with fear and excitement.
Only Yoshiharu Oyama sat there, staring blankly, his sake cup tilted without him realizing it, the clear liquid spilling onto the table, unnoticed.
After a long while, he slowly, deeply, exhaled a breath that trembled with the shock of being utterly shaken.
“This story…” he murmured, “this Hiroshi… what he’s made isn’t just a television drama. This is… this is an analysis of humanity!”
…
At the same moment, the storm of shock unleashed by World of the Strange was sweeping across the Japanese night with irresistible force.
In the Late-night Diner, the owner, Xiang Shuishang, and a few regular customers stared blankly at the small television screen, their beer mugs frozen mid-air, cold liquid dripping down the glass and onto the bar counter, ignored.
“…That man, the good police officer?”
“…The handsome guy, he’s the killer?”
“…You’re kidding, right? This ending is just… Oh my god! This is too unexpected!”
At the taxi dispatch center, dozens of drivers who had just finished their shifts gathered around the television in the break room. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco and sweat, but it was overshadowed by a more potent chill.
“Damn it! I’ll never give a ride to a pretty girl casually again. Who knows what’s going on in her mind!”
“You idiot! *We’re* the ones who should be scared! What if we pick up a perverted handsome guy like the second male lead?!”
In the hospital’s duty room, a young doctor, exhausted after a surgery, had just wanted to relax by watching TV. Now, he felt his heart pounding faster than it had on the operating table.
In the university dormitories, a few overly energetic young men, after a brief moment of dead silence, erupted into a heated discussion.
“Holy crap! This twist! Amazing! I’m so scared I wet my pants!”
“This is a real horror film! Those that only scare with blood and ghosts are like children playing house compared to this!”
“I’ve decided! From today on, Hiroshi Nohara is my god! Anyone who badmouths him, I’ll go at them!”
This storm eventually converged into an unstoppable data flood, surging towards the Tokyo Television Station’s data monitoring center.
And at the other end of that storm.
In a brightly lit private room at a high-end izakaya in Ginza, the atmosphere was as oppressive as an ice cellar.
Masao Iwata tightly gripped his sake cup. His face, usually marked by a hint of arrogance, was now a ghastly pale.
Beside him, Ichiro Hashishita’s complexion was even whiter than paper. His bloodshot eyes were filled with disbelief, shock, and fear.
The entire An Shizhi Season 3 production team seemed frozen in place, heads bowed, not daring to breathe heavily.
Just half an hour ago, they had been here, talking grandly, full of spirit.
They drank expensive sake while using the most cutting language to mock “that arrogant young man” and “that poorly made work destined to fail.”
They had even planned to hold a grand celebration banquet after An Shizhi Season 3 aired at 10:30 PM, to celebrate their victory and their opponent’s crushing defeat.
In this very setting!
But now, they felt like clowns who had been stripped naked in public, their faces burning with shame.
At the head of the table, Toshihide Takada, the Executive Deputy Director of Tokyo Television Production Bureau, his usually gloomy face now so overcast it seemed to drip water.
He slowly put down his chopsticks, not looking at anyone, his gaze fixed on the television screen, which was also broadcasting World of the Strange.
His voice was not loud, but it was like a cold knife, precisely piercing the heart of everyone present.
“Iwata-kun.”
“Yes… Hi! Deputy Director!” Masao Iwata’s body trembled violently. He quickly put down his sake cup and responded respectfully.
“Is this the rushed, poorly made live-action project by Hiroshi Nohara that you reported to me earlier?”
Takada Toshihide’s tone was calm, giving no indication of his emotions.
But it was precisely this calmness that made Iwata Masao feel a fear that came from the depths of his bones.
Because he knew his superior all too well.
Takada Toshihide had climbed his way to Executive Deputy Director in the faction-ridden Tokyo Television not just through strategy and alliances.
His professional ability, his keen sense for market trends, and his discernment of a work’s quality were top-notch within the entire Production Bureau.
He could tell at a glance how exquisitely made, how… terrifying, World of the Strange was.
The novel superpower concept, the cinematic language comparable to a movie, the pacing that perfectly blended suspense and horror, and especially that earth-shattering twist that would go down in history…
How could this possibly be a hastily produced, poorly made work?
This was clearly a masterpiece, honed through a thousand fires, with every detail glittering with genius!
“I…” Iwata Masao’s throat felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. He opened his mouth but couldn’t utter a word. His forehead was already covered in fine beads of cold sweat.
What could he say?
Admit he misjudged?
Admit he was deceived by that young man?
No, that would only make him appear more foolish and incompetent!
Seeing Iwata Masao’s embarrassed state, Takada Toshihide’s disappointment deepened.
He no longer paid attention to his incompetent subordinate and turned his gaze to Ichiro Hashishita, who had been lowering his head the entire time, trembling like a sieve.
“Hashishita-kun.” His voice remained calm.
“Hi!” Ichiro Hashishita practically jumped up from his seat.
“I heard you were the line producer for Nohara-kun’s work, and you were involved in the entire production of the first two seasons of An Shizhi.”
Takada Toshihide’s knuckles tapped rhythmically on the tabletop, the sound like the footsteps of death, each one landing on Ichiro Hashishita’s heart.
“So, can you tell me, what are your chances of winning with your An Shizhi Season 3, compared to Nohara-kun’s new work?”
“We… we…” Ichiro Hashishita’s lips trembled. He wanted to say, “We will definitely win,” “Our style is more traditional,” “We have the reputation of the first two seasons backing us.”
But, when the desperate scream from earlier echoed in his mind, when he recalled that sinister face, when he remembered the fear of being subverted by the twist.
All the words of defense seemed so pale and powerless.
His resolve wavered…
He even felt like they might lose!
Takada Toshihide didn’t even need Hashishita to speak. Seeing his subordinate’s dejected state, he understood everything.
He slowly closed his eyes.
The spicy taste of sake lingered in his mouth.
Yet, he felt as if his mouth was devoid of any taste, and he had lost his appetite for the various French delicacies laid out on the table before him.
“Crash—”
At that moment, the private room door was pushed open, and a person who looked like an assistant hurried in, a suppressed emotion on his face, and whispered a few words into Takada Toshihide’s ear.
Takada Toshihide’s pupils contracted sharply.
“This is the preliminary statistical report just received from the data center.”
“World of the Strange, five minutes after broadcast, the instant ratings broke… 10%.”
“Based on past ratings forecasts, the program may reach… 18%!”
The assistant spoke in a low voice.
But everyone present heard it clearly due to the absolute silence, as no one dared to speak.
Besides, Takada Toshihide had no intention of concealing it.
“Projected ratings… 18%?”
Takada Toshihide slowly raised his head. All emotion had vanished from his gloomy face, leaving behind only a bottomless calm, like a cold abyss.
He knew very well.
The ratings for a sub-golden slot were typically around 10%.
Now, with ratings breaking 10% within five minutes of broadcast, and a projected final rating of 18% after the entire program concluded.
This was already a record-breaking level!
His mind was so preoccupied that he had no room for any other thoughts.
Takada Toshihide looked at his subordinates, who had already lost all fighting spirit in the private room. He leaned back slowly, let out a long, pent-up sigh, and said indifferently:
“Never mind, let’s continue to wait. Let’s see how An Shizhi Season 3 turns out. And I hope you all don’t… disappoint me too much.”
Upon hearing this, Iwata Masao, Hashishita Ichiro, and the other members of the production team were all scared like quails.
They didn’t even dare to reply.
They were as silent as cicadas in winter!
PS: Still asking for recommendation votes. If you feel this book is good, please recommend it to others~ I really need good performance~
