"Mainly due to the mask's subpar texture," Hachiman remarked with a discerning eye, "I could immediately tell."
Upon hearing Hachiman's critique, the staff member found himself immersed in self-doubt.
"Is it truly that dreadful?" he wondered, his gaze shifting towards Utaha, his curiosity piqued. He asked, somewhat puzzled, "Why isn't this guest frightened? Typically, when young women encounter ghosts or monsters, they'd be screaming in terror."
Utaha responded with an unflappable tone, "What's there to fear? Recognizing that it's all make-believe, getting scared would seem rather foolish, don't you think?"
"And if we were to confront any genuine peril," she added, "I trust that Hachiman would safeguard me, wouldn't you?"
"Of course, I'd protect you, Utaha," Hachiman reassured her warmly.
Receiving an unexpected dose of affection, the staff member felt a twinge of discouragement and concealed his eye roll.
"It's easy to utter such promises now," he thought. "I've seen countless men come in here vowing to protect their girlfriends, but as soon as they confront something terrifying, they abandon them and flee, without a second thought."
As he observed Utaha's delicate countenance and contemplated his own situation, approaching the age of thirty and still single, the staff member couldn't help but be engulfed by a sense of bitterness in his heart.
"The next group of visitors is ready to enter. Please proceed," the staff member instructed.
Hachiman and Utaha acknowledged and continued their journey deeper into the haunted house's narrative.
As they ventured further, the staff member retrieved a walkie-talkie.
"Hey, everyone... Are you there?"
"We're here, Yano-kun. What's going on..."
"Yano-senpai, what's happening?"
"..."
The walkie-talkie crackled with several voices, all belonging to fellow staff members working within the haunted house.
"Just a moment ago, a couple passed through and had the audacity to claim our haunted house props were poorly crafted and not at all frightening. Later on, let's put in some real effort to terrify them."
Yano's words prompted a chorus of outraged responses over the walkie-talkie.
"What? They actually said that?"
"Leave it to me, Yano-senpai. I'll show them true horror."
"Yes, we've poured our hearts into these props. They can't just dismiss our dedication like that. Let them experience the full extent of our fright."
Hearing the resolute replies from his team, Yano nodded with satisfaction.
"Very well. The man from that couple is dressed casually, and the woman is wearing a sky-blue dress. They should be easy to spot."
"Team, this is a matter of our haunted house's reputation."
"Let's reveal our true capabilities. The real terror has begun."
Meanwhile, Hachiman and Utaha had traversed a considerable distance and now found themselves inside an abandoned operating room.
The operating room lay cloaked in dim light, with enigmatic red fluids intermittently dripping from the forsaken surgical table.
An eerie chill permeated the air, and the fractured doors occasionally unleashed chilling gusts. From the recesses of the corridor, distant lamentations and ghostly cries seemed to reverberate. At the very least, there was evident effort put into crafting a terrifying ambiance.
"Utaha, do you reckon that at some point, a ghost or monster might suddenly materialize in a corner here?" Hachiman inquired with an air of confidence, his gaze fixed on the girl by his side.
These forsaken operating rooms often evoked thoughts of restless spirits who had met their demise on the surgical table.
As if in response to his words, right after he spoke, a mournful wail and a rush of frigid air accompanied the abrupt emergence of a hand from beneath a nearby surgical bed.
Shrouded in a bloodstained sheet, it bore ragged gaps revealing indistinct flesh and stark white bones. Multiple surgical knives protruded from the figure's back, their blades still seeping fresh crimson blood. One leg hung on by a mere thread of skin and tissue.
This figure, resembling a vengeful spirit that had perished on the operating table, laboriously crawled out from under the bed.
And then...
That's where the tale halted.
Hachiman and Utaha merely regarded the figure impassively, their expressions untouched.
"Let's press on, Utaha."
"Agreed."
They advanced past the staff member, their demeanor unruffled by the ghastly display.
As their silhouettes faded into the distance, the staff member wore a despondent expression and hastily grabbed his walkie-talkie.
"Seniors, I couldn't do it. They... they completely ignored me and walked right by."
"What... they're really underestimating us."
"Don't fret, Tanaka, we'll take it from here. I'll make sure they realize how impressive we can be."
...
Continuing their journey through the haunted house, Hachiman stole a glance at the composed Utaha. He sighed, frustration lacing his voice. "Utaha, didn't you mention wanting to gather dating experiences in a haunted house for your novel?"
"At this rate, we won't be able to convey any romantic storyline."
"Haunted houses in novels usually involve girls getting scared, triggering the guy's protective instincts."
"Your calm demeanor is hindering the plot's progress."
Utaha narrowed her eyes upon hearing his words.
"Oh, Hachiman, are you secretly hoping to scare me and make me jump into your arms?"
Hachiman forced an awkward smile as Utaha accurately discerned his thoughts.
"Cough, cough, I didn't say that. I'm just thinking about your storyline."
"Well, if you really want me to jump into your arms, Hachiman, it's not impossible, as long as..."
Utaha leaned forward slightly, her voice imbued with temptation.
Before she could finish her sentence, a hole in the ceiling above them tore open, revealing a half-bloodied corpse hanging in front of them.
"Ah!"
Utaha, genuinely startled this time, reacted instinctively. She leaped into Hachiman's arms.
Her fragrant and soft body pressed snugly against his chest, like supple dough with a hint of elasticity, perceptible even through their not-so-thick layers of clothing.
For a moment, an unexpected intimacy infused the air between them.
You see, this classic haunted house plotline had just unfolded.
Hachiman glanced up at the suspended corpse, realizing it was merely a prop. Nonetheless, it bore a convincing realism, and its sudden appearance had successfully frightened Utaha.
Moving tenderly with the warmth in his arms, Hachiman offered gentle reassurance, patting her back.
"It's alright, Utaha. It's just a prop, no need to be frightened."