I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 16 Screening
Meanwhile, in Ginza, Tokyo.

In a brightly lit izakaya private room, the atmosphere was completely different from the tense and solemnity of Suzuki's classroom.

Iwata Masao sat with his legs crossed, a glass of expensive sake in his hand, a scornful smile on his face. On the TV screen in front of him, the opening scene of "Anzhiju" was also playing.

"Hahaha! Look, look! Is this what that stubborn old Suzuki came up with? What's this drawing? Is it a ghost painting?"

One of his attendants immediately joined in the laughter. "Section Chief, this can't even be called animation, can it? It's just a few scraps of paper moving. Look at the coloring; it's all filthy, like an elementary school student's graffiti!"

"It's more than just graffiti! My son's feet can draw better than this!" Another flatterer pointed at the masked Kameshiba on the screen and said exaggeratedly, "And the dubbing is like a mouthful of phlegm stuck in your throat. It's disgusting! Section Chief Takeshita actually allowed this kind of garbage to pass the review?"

The box was suddenly filled with a cheerful atmosphere, and everyone was laughing unscrupulously at the crude and simple picture on the screen.

In their view, this is not an opponent worthy of being taken seriously, but a complete joke.

Masao Iwata took a sip of wine comfortably, his heart filled with the joy of having won.

Is this kind of thing worthy of being compared with "Kimi no Sasuke" which I invested two million per episode in?
What a big joke!
He could already foresee how interesting Suzuki Seito's old face would be when the ratings report came out tomorrow.

……

On the other side, at the home of Toshihide Takada, deputy director of the production department of Tokyo TV.

This 55-year-old middle-aged man, a powerful figure in the TV station, had just finished a social event and was sitting alone on an expensive leather sofa, a little drunk, to rest.

It seemed like he had thought of something.

He also turned on the TV and tuned to the late-night show on Tokyo TV.

When the unique opening of "Anzhiju" with a sense of the Showa era appeared, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Shoddy."

He offered a cold assessment.

As a veteran television personality, he immediately recognized the poor production of this animation. Whether it was the style and coloring or the almost negligible dynamic effects, it all revealed a sense of small-scale workshop-style shabbiness.

A sneer appeared on Takada Shunying's lips.

"Is that it?" He thought of Asumi, the deputy director of the production department who transferred from Kanto TV to Tokyo TV, who always seemed obedient, silent, and inferior to him, and couldn't help but sneer from his nose.

There was an extremely mocking look in his eyes.

"Amorihai, Amorihai, do you think you can shake my position with something so lowly that it's not presentable? You are so naive."

Takada Toshihide couldn't help but feel happy.

He picked up the whiskey on the table and prepared to take a rest after watching this joke. He believed that the market would give Suzuki Seito and the supporters behind him the loudest slap in the face.

……

Director of the Audit Department, in Takeshita Ai's apartment.

She didn't drink or eat any snacks, but just stared at the screen intently. When the hoarse narration sounded and the masked man appeared, her eyes, far from showing disdain, instead shone with a strange glint.

She knew that the fun was about to begin.

On the TV screen, the story of "The Talisman Girl" officially unfolds.

A teenager moves into a new home, an ordinary apartment room. Everything seems so ordinary, so dull.

But it's so weird!
……

"Tsk, a modern theme? What's so scary about that?" In the izakaya, Iwata Masao's follower curled his lips in disdain.

In their view, horror stories must take place in ancient temples, abandoned villages, or be associated with legendary ghosts. This modern urban setting cannot create any horror atmosphere at all.

However, as the plot progressed, their voices gradually became quieter.

The boy sensed it; it seemed like there was always a gaze coming from the apartment building across the street. The camera focused on the window of the opposite apartment; it was pitch black, and nothing could be seen.

But the feeling of being spied on is accurately conveyed to every audience member through the static picture and the depressing background sound.

The boy drew the curtains.

But that gaze seemed to penetrate the wall and was still fixed on him.

He suddenly raised his head and looked at the ceiling of his house.

There, there was a small old talisman.

"What is that?" one of Iwata Masao's followers asked in a puzzled whisper inside the izakaya. "Why does it look like a talisman from a temple?"

No one answered her, and everyone's heart was in their throat.

The boy seemed to want to tear off the talisman, but he couldn't reach it. The next day, he found that the woman in the apartment across the street was behaving more and more strangely, always looking at him with a cold look.

And the talisman on the ceiling of his room seemed to have... one more than yesterday.

The laughter in the izakaya had completely disappeared.

Everyone subconsciously sat up straight, staring intently at the screen. The crude art style was no longer a flaw. Instead, combined with the eerie colors and depressing soundtrack, it created an indescribably creepy atmosphere.

There are no bloody scenes and no shocking sound effects.

But the pervasive chill that seeped into one's bones made the air conditioner in the box seem to be lowered by several degrees in an instant.

Masao Iwata's brows were twisted into the shape of a "川" character.

He put down his wine glass, and his face, which was slightly red due to the alcohol, was now gloomy.

He'd been in the television industry for over a decade, so what kind of work had he not seen? However, this kind of work, using the cheapest possible means to create such extreme psychological horror... was the first time he'd seen it!

This is no longer a problem of production level, it is a creative... dimensionality reduction attack!
The pace of the story is getting faster and faster, and the sense of depression is increasing layer by layer.

The number of talismans on the ceiling of the boy's room increased day by day.

The face of the woman opposite was becoming more and more distorted day by day, and the resentment in her eyes was almost overflowing from the screen.

Finally, it’s the end.

The boy noticed that the woman had come to his home and put more talismans on her, so he finally exploded and called the police to take her away.

But the woman was still saying something, and the boy couldn't hear it at all.

He just knew to go back.

Then die all the spells!

So the young man tore and tore, even tearing off the talisman on the lifted table. However, as he tore, the young man's face became extremely terrified.

Because he found something was wrong.

And the boy's inner voice was also heard -

"I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything!"

The scene suddenly changed!
Huge, twisted, and spiteful ghosts filled the entire screen!

They all lowered their heads and looked at the young man with resentment!

"The end of the play."

(End of this chapter)