As the audience's gaze gradually softened, and many began to feel sympathy for the monsters, no one expected that a small accident would turn the entire live broadcast into something hilariously chaotic.
Just as the program reached its climax, with the River God finishing his sorrowful tale, the room fell into silence. Everyone was lost in thought when suddenly, the tiger monster let out a light cough beside me and whispered, "Master, why does this camera look so strange? I’m not used to so many people watching me..."
I glanced down and saw that the tiger’s tail had unknowingly curled behind him, nearly lifting a sound equipment piece as if it were a toy to swing around.
"Hey, Tiger! Be careful!" I shouted.
But it was too late—with a sudden flick of his tail, the sound equipment went flying, landing squarely on a technician adjusting the audio. The live feed instantly cut to a shot of the technician stumbling, while the tiger stared blankly at his own tail.
"Uh... was that my tail’s fault?" the tiger asked, bewildered, turning to look at me.
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the unexpected mishap shattering the solemn atmosphere. The silent audience erupted in laughter too.
"This..." I struggled to hold back my amusement, "I promise, this isn’t typical monster behavior. They’re actually quite polite."
But this was only the beginning.
Midway through the broadcast, Jin San suddenly started making bizarre dance moves at the audience, his tail swaying like some ancient ritual dance. At first, the crowd was confused, but when Jin San spun around and accidentally smacked the tiger in the face with his tail, chaos ensued.
"Hey! What’s your problem?!" The tiger, now irritated, stepped on a microphone cable and tumbled to the ground, knocking over a water bottle and spilling water everywhere.
"Whoops!" Jin San jumped aside in panic, only to step on another piece of live equipment, triggering a loud crash. The screen flickered wildly, making it hard for viewers to even hear the host’s voice.
"Don’t panic, everyone!" I quickly stepped in, trying to restore order, but soon found myself laughing too. "This isn’t intentional! The monsters are just... shy! They’re expressing themselves!"
Then, the Phone Spirit joined the mayhem, its screen flashing a notification: "System detecting chaos. Emergency mode activated..."
With a cheerful "Ding! Ding!", cartoon emojis and sparkly symbols popped up on its display. The audience roared with laughter again, as if this were some absurd improv show.
Trying to stay composed, I spoke into the mic, "Alright, everyone, please stay calm. This program isn’t for entertainment—it’s to prove that monsters and humans can coexist peacefully."
But no matter what I said, the room remained filled with laughter. Some viewers even started mimicking Jin San’s dance. The monsters’ endearing clumsiness had completely dissolved their initial fear and suspicion.
By the time the broadcast ended, the monsters’ image hadn’t been tarnished—instead, they’d gained a charming, human-like appeal. People began to see them not as heartless beasts, but as emotional, flawed beings.
Backstage, I looked at the monsters and grinned. "Well, that’s the real us. Maybe we’re not perfect, but at least we made everyone laugh."
The tiger scratched his head and chuckled. "Hah, Master, I still don’t get it. Humans actually changed their minds because of our dancing?"
Jin San flicked his tail and added, "At least no one’s scared of our moves now, right?"
"Yeah, you’re right." I smiled, warmth filling my chest. Despite the chaos, the monsters had shown humanity a different side of themselves—and in the midst of laughter, fear and misunderstanding quietly faded away.
In that moment, I knew this conflict was finally moving toward something brighter.
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