Horror Game Developer: My games aren't that scary!

Chapter 6: The Jester [5]

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The time ended, and the earbuds stopped working.

But it no longer mattered. The music had stopped, replaced by an unsettling, suffocating silence.

”H-ha.”

My chest trembled as I drew in a shaky breath.

By now, my stomach had flipped, twisted, and contorted in every possible way.

Yet, as I locked eyes with the conductor, an unbearable weight pressed against my gut, as if something inside me wanted to crawl out.

”...R... repeat that.”

His voice was low, grave—like something clawing its way up from the depths of hell.

I swallowed silently, trying to pull down the bile that had built up in my throat.

ʼRelax, remain calm.ʼ

The situation was unfolding exactly as I wanted it to. I just needed to finish what I started.

But what if it doesnʼt work? What if what I thought was the wrong answer? Could it really work? But—

Amidst all my unnecessary thoughts, my lips slowly parted.

”Your music...”

I paused, forcing down the lump in my throat.

”...Itʼs garbage.”

RATTLE!

The entire hall shuddered. Chairs scraped against the floor. Curtains swayed. The balconies trembled. Instruments clattered to the ground.

The rattling continued—violent, deafening—until it suddenly stopped.

”G... garbage?”

The conductorʼs head tilted at an unnatural angle, the motion slow, deliberate. A sharp crack echoed through the silence.

”...My... music is garbage?”

Crack!

This time, the sound was louder, sharper. The conductorʼs head twisted further—past 90 degrees, past 180—until it dangled upside down.

”Yes.”

I nodded, forcing composure. Or at least, trying to. Then—

A cold hand gripped my shoulder.

”.....!?”

I kept my gaze locked forward, muscles tensed. But something pulled at me. A shadow stretched across my lap, and slowly, a faceless figure emerged beside me, its hollow gaze locked onto mine with unsettling intensity.

ʼIʼm about to puke.ʼ

But as if things werenʼt bad enough—

Cra-CRACK!

The hollow face beside me tilted its head, mimicking the conductor with slow, unnatural movements. A sickening crack split the silence as its face twisted and shifted, skin stretching and tearing with a wet, grotesque sound.

A mouth appeared, and a voice whispered next to my ear.

”Why...? Why do you say this...? Iʼm perfect. It... was perfect.”

My hand trembled, my back soaking in cold sweat.

That voice...

ʼItʼs the conductorʼs voice!ʼ

The creature leaned in closer, its breath chilling my ear.

”Tell... me.”

”...The tempo.”

I chewed on my tongue, trying my best to remain calm.

”The rhythm. Everything about it felt boring.”

Slowly, I turned my head to face the faceless figure directly. I knew I couldnʼt show any emotion.

The creature... It fed itself through fear.

”Trash—!”

BANG!

The theater shook violently. The piano sheets scattered to the floor. Instruments crashed.

My grip on the armrest tightened.

ʼKeep a grip of yourself. Keep a grip!ʼ

And then—

”.....”

It all stopped.

Silence.

Suffocating to the point of being unable to breathe.

Soon, my ears tingled. The conductorʼs voice reached my ears again.

”You... do it.”

Do it?

I paused for a moment, processing the words.

”If... you say my work... is trash. You do it.”

”I do it...?”

I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling an unexpected sound.

”Ha.”

A sound soon escaped my lips.

”Whatʼs... wrong?”

”Hahahaha.”

That sound soon twisted into a laugh as I suddenly burst out laughing, my voice a little high as a result of all the pent-up stress releasing.

For some reason... it sounded eerily much like that of a clown.

Me do it? What sort of response was this? I wasnʼt the conductor. It wasnʼt my job to do their job.

The response was so stupid that I found myself laughing unexpectedly.

Around me, the expressions of the others shifted. The way they looked at me—it was almost the same as how they had looked at the conductor moments prior.

RATTLE!

The hall quaked again. A chill crept up my spine. Cold, bony fingers wrapped around my neck.

”....You laugh?”

The grip tightened. Air fled my lungs.

In that moment, I felt it.

I was one snap away from death.

”How... dare you?”

The grip intensified.

It was strong, and my vision started to blur.

ʼIʼm going to die.ʼ

I felt it with every bone in my body.

And yet, I wasnʼt panicked. I could still do it.

Reaching out for the ʼmind printerʼ in my hand, the image of a sheet of music appeared in my mind. It was a classic piece I had seen in the past. Making a few adjustments to it, I pressed onto the paper.

ʼWork, this has to work!ʼ

The paper trembled in my grasp. Notes appeared—one by one, like ink seeping from the void.

Faster, faster, faster!!

”If... you canʼt show me... then why are you here?”

The conductorʼs voice coiled around my ear, tickling it and sending shivers down my entire body.

I didnʼt bother.

I continued to stare at the paper in my hand.

Halfway done.

”Why...? If so, then maybe you should die.”

I could hardly feel my surroundings.

My mind was a hazy mess, and the world around me started to spin.

My heart pounded loudly in my head.

Time was ticking.

Almost, almost!

”I... hope that nex—”

”Here.”

I forced the word out, shoving the sheet up.

”.....”

All noise ceased then, and the grip over my neck loosened.

”What... is this?”

I didnʼt reply and looked at the figure next to me.

As if understanding, it loosened its grip further, and I opened my mouth.

”Play this. Itʼs... a famous composition.”

Silence.

All I felt was the chilling gaze of the conductor as it eyed the paper in my hand.

I continued.

”...Maybe the piece was boring. You say youʼre perfect. Show me. Play this piece. Itʼs my favorite.”

”Is... this a challenge?”

”Yes.”

Once again, the hall fell into a state of silence.

The silence stretched endlessly, each second dragging on in agonizing suspense. In that moment, every bead of sweat on my forehead became painfully noticeable.

And just when I couldnʼt resist for any longer...

”Okay.”

The hand pulled away, allowing me to fully breathe again.

Before I knew it, the conductor held the sheet of paper in their hand, placing it directly on the podium.

At the same time, the other members of the orchestra picked up their instruments.

Their coordination was astounding, and in matters of seconds, everything was back in place. All heads similarly turned to face the front once again.

Tapping its baton on the podium, the conductor raised its hand and...

Wam!

The music started.

The theater came alive, and a nice melody filled the surroundings once again.

And just like before, I felt my mind slowly get pulled into the music, my thoughts squirming and my body twitching. I could see the faces of the other people change, too, realizing that something was wrong.

—Whatʼs wrong? Why did nothing change? I can feel the music messing with my head again. Donʼt tell me this was all a trap!

The female voice echoed from the walkie-talkie, rushed.

I chose to ignore her.

But soon, the others followed.

—I knew it! I knew it!

—This was a trap...!

—Captain, what do we do!?

They were panicking. It made sense.

Because, to them, nothing had changed.

But I knew better.

I watched the conductor closely. It lifted its baton for the next part when—

It stopped.

The music halted. The hall fell silent.

The conductor scratched its face, staring at the sheet in confusion. It tried again—lowering the baton—

Then paused.

It hesitated.

And thatʼs when I smiled.

Because...

There was no way it could play a tampered piece.

ʼI did it.ʼ