"Huff, huff, huff!"
People generally reacted in one of two ways when frightened. Some went blank, their entire bodies freezing in place, or even passed out. Others, driven by extreme fear, released certain hormones that made their bodies react faster than their brains, leaving them unable to remember afterward what they had done.
After fleeing the first floor, Hayama Takuya had run blindly up to the second in one mad dash. Only after passing through a pitch-black corridor did he finally stop, panting and gesturing wildly at the cameraman behind him.
"...Did you get that thing on the ceiling just now? Did everyone watching the stream see it? There was an arm hanging down from the ceiling, and blood..."
Hayama Takuya still looked badly shaken. His face was pale, and he was clearly terrified.
"Hayama, you suddenly screamed and took off. All I had time to do was follow you. I didn't film anything."
The cameraman behind him spoke quietly.
He normally wasn't supposed to speak, but Hayama's horrifying scream and sudden flight had made everyone else run instinctively after him. Now the team had scattered, and he was the only one still following Hayama.
That was the so-called herd effect.
Hayama glanced at the trace of bright red still on his hand. Ignoring the dust on the wall, he hurriedly wiped it clean against the surface, leaving several bloody finger marks.
"Look, everyone! You have no idea what I just saw. It was absolutely terrifying! There seemed to be someone hanging upside down from the ceiling back there, and blood dripped onto me..."
The camera focused on the bloody finger marks on the wall.
But the live chat didn't believe him. Most of the viewers were fans of the apprentice shrine maiden Katori-chan, guys who were only there to watch a cute girl. They already felt a certain hostility toward a pretty boy like him.
Some mocked Hayama for being a cowardly pretty boy. Others laughed at their lousy script and blatantly fake props, saying the blood was obviously ketchup. Still others ridiculed Hayama's terrible acting and suggested that if he had nothing else to offer, he could strip naked and dance.
In short, the chat was full of snide remarks and mockery, demanding that Hayama go back to the first floor and film the ceiling.
Hayama took out his phone and glanced at the chat, which immediately infuriated him.
But he couldn't curse out loud.
Were they kidding? Go back to that hellhole?
As he looked at the pitch-black abandoned corridor and the dilapidated windows, illuminating the drifting dust with his flashlight, that eerie, terrifying atmosphere closed in on him again.
Remembering the fleeting glimpse he had caught beneath the ceiling, a scene straight out of a horror movie, Hayama couldn't help wanting to back out.
His popularity had plummeted after a scandal broke in which he had sung at a gathering of female fans wearing nothing but a necktie. Only through arrangements made by the streaming platform had he gotten this chance to collaborate with the increasingly popular Katori-chan, hoping to recover some of his audience.
If he ran away now, his haters would undoubtedly brand him a coward and a weakling all over again.
"Wait. It wasn't in the original script, but could that thing on the ceiling have been a prop set up by Katori-chan's team?"
A sudden idea struck Hayama, as though he had discovered the truth.
This collaboration was a joint effort between his team and Katori-chan's. If her side had done something behind his back, he would have had no way of knowing.
Katori-chan had been reluctant about the collaboration from the very beginning, only grudgingly agreeing under pressure from the platform's senior management.
Could that scheming fake shrine maiden be holding a grudge? Had she deliberately set up a terrifying scene outside the script to scare him shitless and make him embarrass himself on stream, then use him-the platform's former top streamer-as a stepping stone to gain even more popularity?
The more Hayama thought about it, the more convinced he became. According to the script, Katori-chan's team had been responsible for setting up the scenes on the first floor.
At that thought, Hayama finally regained a little courage, and his expression grew composed.
"Of course we can go back to the first floor. But before that, we need to find Katori-chan. I really can't rest easy knowing a girl like her is lost somewhere like this. How could I abandon her and escape on my own?"
Like the leading man searching for his missing lover, Hayama put on a brave yet deeply worried expression and continued roaming the second floor with his flashlight.
In the original script, they were supposed to get separated on the second floor anyway, so there was nothing wrong with him performing alone from this point onward.
They had also hidden a few small props on the second floor, including newspaper reports about the fire years ago and black-and-white photographs. According to the script, Hayama was supposed to "find" them and bring them to the third floor, then uncover the truth of what had happened after going through a series of terrifying scenes.
But Hayama still felt a little creeped out. It would be better to find Katori-chan and regroup with her first. With more people around, she wouldn't find it so easy to scare him, even if she wanted to.
Since Katori-chan could change the script, naturally, so could he.
The abandoned shopping mall was filled with the smell of decay, but small animals like rats inevitably made their homes there too, producing faint rustling noises in the darkness.
Every so often, a sound made Hayama's heart jump, but he continued pretending that nothing was wrong.
After several minutes of this show of searching, they were nearing the end of the corridor when hurried footsteps suddenly came from around the corner. A short, fat man's round face, filled with terror, appeared at the bend.
The short, fat man had clearly been drawn by the light. The moment he saw Hayama and the cameraman behind him, his face lit up with wild joy.
"Hayama, help! There's something in this place..."
Before he could finish, the short, fat man pitched forward and fell face-first onto the floor. Tears and snot streamed down his round face as he dug both hands desperately into the floor, screaming in utter terror.
"Help! Help! Something's pulling my legs..."
In less than three seconds, the short, fat man was dragged away, leaving only a string of hysterical screams as he struggled for his life. Soon, even those screams cut off abruptly.
A terrifying abandoned mall, a man dragged away by something unknown, screams suddenly silenced-whatever had happened around that corner was enough to conjure an entire horror movie in anyone's mind.
"What the hell is Hirano playing at? Did Katori-chan bribe him to help scare me?"
The short, fat man, Hirano, was a member of Hayama Takuya's team, someone he knew well. Although Hayama had been startled at first, he wasn't all that frightened.
He looked down at the live chat. There were far more comments now, all praising the fat guy's acting. That shift from hope to despair, those screams filled with utter hopelessness-it was a first-rate performance.
"Something seems to have dragged Hirano away! Come on, we have to hurry over and save him!"
What the hell was Katori-chan up to now?!
Hayama cursed inwardly, but his feet dragged as he headed forward. The cameraman followed behind him, carrying the streaming equipment.
Once they rounded the corner and shone the flashlight down the corridor, there was no one in sight.
On the dust-covered corridor floor, all they could see was one long, broad drag mark, with two thin trails beside it where his fingers had clawed at the floor, silently telling of his despair.