I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

He was no longer a passive spectator, but replayed the short three minutes in his mind from the perspective of a professional commentator.

Then he discovered something even more terrifying.

That wasn't the sudden grimace at the end.

But the conception of the whole story.

Office, overtime, printer...

What an accurate capture of the living conditions of modern urbanites!

Isn't that female teacher the epitome of the millions of office workers toiling away late into the night to make ends meet? Isn't that printer, which works intermittently and always breaks down at crucial moments, their biggest nightmare at work?

This young man named Hiroshi Nohara is not telling a traditional ghost story at all.

He planted a time bomb called "fear" in the most familiar and daily scenes of every urban white-collar worker.

From tonight on, every night when people work overtime, when they walk towards the cold printer, they will subconsciously think of the episode "Paper". They will feel a hint of hesitation when they lift the cover; they will feel a palpitation when they see unknown marks on the printed paper.

This fear will not disappear with the end of the animation. It will penetrate into people's daily lives like a virus and become an inescapable psychological shadow.

"……genius."

Kato Nobuyuki, a man who has analyzed countless works with the sharp edge of words and whose heart has long been as calm as an ancient well, uttered these two words from the bottom of his heart at this moment.

He looked at the deep night sky outside the window and felt for the first time that an unprecedented storm was quietly brewing on the cultural landscape of this city.

And he was fortunate enough to be one of the first people to witness the eye of the storm with his own eyes.

He stood up, walked to his study, and turned on the newly updated word processor.

He deleted the gorgeous but empty beginning he had written for "Kibo Samurai".

Then he typed out a brand new title.

——"Anzhiju: A Gentle Horror Ritual Dedicated to the Modern City".

Chapter 29!

On Thursday morning, the air in the Tokyo TV production headquarters building seemed thinner and fresher than usual.

Sunlight shines through the huge glass curtain wall, illuminating the corridor. Light particles dance quietly in the air, like some kind of silent tribute.

'Bam—! '

The door to Suzuki's classroom was flung open.

Hashijita Ichiro rushed in, holding a thin piece of paper in his hand. The paper trembled violently in his hand, as if it was not a piece of paper, but a bird flapping its wings and about to fly.

His face, which had always been somewhat gray due to the pressure of life and work, was now flushed red, an unreal red mixed with madness and extreme joy.

"Ratings..." He opened his mouth, but something seemed to be stuck in his throat and he couldn't say a word. He just slammed the paper heavily on the table in the middle of the office that was piled with drawings.

The sound of "pop" was clear and loud.

Everyone's gaze, like iron filings attracted by a magnet, instantly converged.

"Late-night animation "Anzhiju", the fourth episode has a viewership rating of 3.24%!"

“The ratings are excellent!”

Hashiji Ichirō's voice was trembling and excited.

3.24%.

This number is like a drop of boiling oil falling into the pot of cold water called "Suzuki Classroom".

boom!

The office was instantly in an uproar.

It was an almost wild outburst after being suppressed for too long.

"Oh oh oh oh oh--!" Nancun Xing and Chang Gu Lu walked like two teenagers who won the first prize at a festival. They hugged each other, shouting and jumping without any rules, knocking the lunch box on the table to the ground, and the sauce and rice were spilled all over the floor. They were completely unaware of it, and just used the most primitive roar to vent the ecstasy in their chests that was about to explode.

Beichuan Yao could no longer hold back her tears, which rolled down like pearls from a broken string.

She didn't wipe it off, but let the warm, salty liquid slide across her cheeks. It was the sweetest rain that washed away all the grievances and anxieties of the past few days.

Suzuki Seito stood there, motionless.

He looked at the report, walked over and picked it up, looking at the number on it that seemed to be glowing, he felt his heart being tightly grasped by a warm and strong hand, and then slowly loosened, a warm current that he had never felt before flowed from his heart to every part of his body.

He slowly turned around and walked towards the young man who had been leaning quietly on the sofa with a faint smile on his face.

He stretched out his hands, which were trembling slightly with excitement, and tightly grasped Nohara Hiroshi's shoulders. Tears streamed down his old face, which was carved with countless wrinkles by the years, and his voice was hoarse.

"Nohara-kun...we...we did it! We really did it!"

"Of course, Mr. Suzuki!" A relaxed smile that came from the heart finally appeared on Nohara Hiroshi's face.

He knew that this was no longer just a snowball.

This was already an avalanche that he had personally started.

A 3.24% viewership rating at : a.m., a deadly time slot considered "garbage time" by all TV people, is no longer a miracle, it is a myth.

Not only did it crush all the programs on other TV stations in the same time slot, it even surpassed some of Tokyo TV's own highly anticipated programs that were broadcast in the late night slot at 11 pm.

It has become a myth!

And this myth, as if it had wings, flew to every corner of the Tokyo TV production department in just one morning.

"Have you heard? The intern in Suzuki's classroom, Nohara Hiroshi, his show 'Anshiji Residence' has a viewership rating of over 3%!"

"How is that possible? In the early morning? Are you kidding me?"

"It's absolutely true! The reports are out! I heard it's the genius manga artist who drew Yu Yu Hakusho in Jump!"

"Oh my god... an intern, a cartoonist, has achieved this? This... is this a comeback?!"

Whispers spread quietly in the tea room, in the corridor, and in the elevator.

For the first time, the name Hiroshi Nohara was engraved in the minds of these industry elites in such a shocking way.

The way they looked at Suzuki's classroom changed from sympathy and pity in the past to surprise, curiosity, and even... a hint of imperceptible awe.

Amidst the commotion, the phone on Suzuki Seito's desk rang.

He picked up the phone, and his excitement, which was almost out of control, instantly turned into respectful and solemn when he heard the voice coming from the other end of the phone.

He is Section Chief Takeshita of the Audit Department.

"Yes I am, okay, it's such an honor!"

"I will! I will be ahead of time! Yes! Yes!"

"Thank you very much! Please convey my regards!"

After hanging up the phone, a more complex and profound excitement appeared on Suzuki Seito's face.

He walked up to Nohara Hiroshi, his voice trembling slightly, a tremor he himself didn't even notice.

"Nohara-kun, Deputy Director Asumi...he wants to treat me to a meal."

The name Asumi means so much to Seito Suzuki.

He was his immediate superior at Kanto TV Station, his mentor, and the benefactor who promoted him from an unknown little director to a successful director.

Later, Kanto TV was acquired, and he followed Asumi to the Tokyo TV headquarters. He thought he could show his talents, but he never expected that because of factional struggles, the two of them were suppressed for several years.

Today's meal is more than just a meal.

This is a clarion call, announcing that these "outsiders" will re-plant their own flags on the peak of power!

At least that's the case for Seito Suzuki, who has been suppressed for a long time.

"Nohara-kun, you must go with me!" Suzuki Seito's eyes burned with an unprecedented fire, "All of this is thanks to you! I must, I must introduce you to Deputy Director Asumi! You are our greatest contributor!"

However, to his surprise, faced with this invitation that could change the fate of a newcomer, Nohara Hiroshi just smiled apologetically and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Section Chief, thank you very much for your consideration. Please also convey my gratitude to Deputy Director Ming Rihai." His voice was gentle but firm. "It's just that I may not be able to go. I haven't been home for a long time."

He paused, his face showing a soft, helpless and sweet expression that belonged to an ordinary young man.

"Mei-ya...she called me twice last night. I was afraid that if I didn't go back, she would rush to the TV station to arrest me."

Suzuki Seito was stunned.

He looked at the young man in front of him, at his clear eyes that were not overwhelmed by victory, and the blood in his heart that was a little excited slowly settled down.

What he saw was no longer a genius who created a myth, but a man with flesh and blood, concerns and responsibilities.

He suddenly understood something.

This young man's strength may not only lie in his astonishing talent, but also in his calmness and clarity in sticking to his original heart when faced with overwhelming wealth.

"Okay... okay!" Suzuki Seito patted Nohara Hiroshi's shoulder heavily, his eyes full of appreciation and relief: "Go back quickly! Say hello to Misae for me! I'm here!"

Just as the two were talking, a group of figures walked past in the corridor outside the classroom, as if they were deliberately speeding up.

The leader was none other than Masao Iwata.

He no longer had the arrogance and dominance of the past few days. His face, which always wore a sarcastic smile, was now as gloomy as the sky before a rainstorm.

The group of followers behind him were all dejected, like a group of defeated roosters. Even when they passed by Suzuki's classroom, they subconsciously quickened their pace, as if the laughter emanating from it were a burning flame.

Masao Iwata did not stop. He walked straight to the end of the corridor without looking around, pressed the elevator button on his own, and parted ways with his subordinates.

Because these subordinates need to do various chores for "Ghost Shop Samurai".

He went upstairs and came to the office of Deputy Director Takada Toshihide.

"Section Chief Iwata, the deputy director is waiting for you." The secretary at the door saw Masao Iwata coming and stood up and made a gesture to invite him.

"Hi." Masao Iwata nodded politely to the female secretary in her thirties, swallowed his saliva, and pushed the door open.

In the office, the sandalwood incense was still there, but the atmosphere was as cold as winter.

Takada Toshihide didn't get angry again. He just sat calmly behind his desk, looking at his trusted general. The face that was always full of shrewdness and calculation now only showed fear and anxiety.

"It has already happened. There is no point in scolding you now." Takada Toshihide's voice was very flat, so flat that it made Iwata Masao feel a little palpitated.

He knew that this was a sign that the deputy director was really angry.

"How's the promotion of your "Ghost Shop Samurai" going?" Takada Toshihide asked calmly.