I looked around at the traces in the wedding hall, like a crime scene.
My mind was in a haze.
‘How many people died?’
In the guest seats, the “trainee participants” who had unfortunately gotten swept up in this insane groom-training Ghost Story were still sitting there.
All of them wore blank expressions, as if their minds had gone.
…I counted the empty seats.
Out of fifteen, eleven dead.
Not even a third remained.
‘A thirty percent survival rate…’
Well, it was still better than the alien reptiles’ flame bombardment.
I had already judged that saving everyone else too was impossible anyway. And I had thought that no matter what I did, there would definitely be casualties… but for people to die just to set the mood for a TV show—
……
[Your response is slow, my friend. You must still be basking in the afterglow of the live broadcast!]
At the same time, though, I recognized one thing clearly.
‘There’s no point in babbling things like “Did you really have to go that far?” to Brown…’
Handing the initiative over to a host inside a Ghost Story who could do even worse things for the sake of a successful broadcast meant I should have anticipated a situation like this.
Especially after I had been warned right beforehand.
‘…Still, the fact that it wasn’t a total wipeout and at least a few people survived is fortunate in the end, I guess.’
Do you know what left…