Whispers of the Haunted Shrine

The afternoon sun streamed brightly through the window, casting a lazy warmth over me as I slouched at my desk. My eyes flickered between the glaring computer screen and the familiar website of The Friday Phantom. The first episode of our paranormal show had finally surpassed thirty thousand views—not exactly groundbreaking, but far better than we had feared. Among the flood of viewer comments, several stories stood out, and I couldn't shake the feeling that some of them deserved a closer look.

One such story came from Robert, a member of the Paranormal Enthusiasts Forum, who had recounted his unsettling experience at Blackwood Mansion. His post detailed how he and two friends had ventured into the notorious haunted estate, only to leave believing they were possessed by malevolent spirits. According to Robert, it was only through the intervention of Ethan Blackwood and me that they had been saved from the entity's grasp.

His vivid retelling of the events sparked a frenzy of debate in the comments. Some accused Robert of being a plant, but many, familiar with his reputation in the local ghost-hunting circles, jumped to his defense. The argument quickly spiraled into a heated back-and-forth, with skeptics and believers squaring off in a battle of words. Meanwhile, a cab driver posted his own eerie account, claiming to have seen two figures dressed in old-fashioned attire—one in a traditional Zhongshan suit—emerge from the mansion late at night.

Of course, for every believer, there was a skeptic. Those who discredited the supernatural scoffed, calling it a hoax, while the more adventurous types talked of organizing their own trips to the mansion. But I knew they would find nothing now—the first episode's filming had cleared the site of any residual energy. Still, I found myself dwelling on the next steps. The second episode was coming up fast, and the material I had to work with left me uninspired.

I leafed through countless notes and reports, but most of it felt dull—rehashed tales of haunted houses, overdone ghost stories. Our first episode had centered around a haunted mansion, and repeating that would not only be monotonous but a creative dead end. I needed something new, something that could intrigue our growing audience and keep them hooked.

As I pondered over these concerns, Daniel burst through the door with his usual exuberance, cradling a tea mug in one hand. His grin was wide as he looked at me, eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. "Ethan, I've got some great news for you!"

"Let me guess—your wife's pregnant with your second kid?" I teased, though the thought of him having more kids sent a wave of dread through me. I hadn't even gotten my first paycheck yet, and if Daniel was expecting gifts, I was in trouble.

"Quit messing around, I'm not even married!" He rolled his eyes, his large face exuding an unexpected irritation.

That caught me off guard. Daniel wasn't bad-looking, and his position as one of the higher-ups in the entertainment industry meant he was well-paid. The fact that he was still single made me feel oddly relieved about my own lack of romantic prospects. Smiling, I asked, "So, what's the good news? Are we getting a raise or a bonus?"

"It's not about money, Ethan! You've got to stop being so obsessed with it." Daniel gave me a disapproving look, as if lecturing a younger brother.

"If it's not about money, then what could possibly be good news?" I slumped back into my chair, feigning disappointment.

"You won't believe this," Daniel leaned closer, clearly enjoying my suspense. "A company wants to sponsor The Friday Phantom. They're offering fifty thousand for six months, with the potential to renegotiate based on the show's performance."

"A sponsor?" My ears perked up, and I sat up straighter. The show's meager budget had been one of our biggest headaches, and this could solve a lot of problems. But then, a nagging doubt crept in. "Wait… Why would anyone want to sponsor a paranormal show with lukewarm ratings? It's not exactly mainstream."

Daniel gave a conspiratorial grin. "It's a temple—a very well-known one. The Seven Jewels Temple, just outside the city in the foothills of Mother Mountain."

"A temple?" I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that… unusual?"

He nodded. "These days, temples are more than just places of worship. The Seven Jewels Temple has actually registered itself as a business under 'Cultural Promotion.' They've even got their own line of products, from incense to holy artifacts. If you think about it, it's the perfect fit for our show. Who else would want to sponsor a paranormal series? It's not like Coca-Cola's going to slap their brand on it."

Daniel's point was hard to argue with. After all, The Friday Phantom wasn't exactly a mainstream variety show. Its niche focus on ghost stories and haunted locales meant that traditional advertisers had steered clear of it. The fact that a temple was showing interest wasn't something I could afford to dismiss outright. A sponsor, especially one as lucrative as this, would give us the resources we needed to expand our reach.

Still, I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of a religious institution sponsoring the show. Something about it felt off. As Daniel prattled on about negotiations and potential earnings, I found my excitement tempered by a creeping sense of unease.

"I don't know, Daniel," I said finally. "A temple sponsoring a paranormal show? What if viewers go to the temple and end up feeling cheated? Wouldn't that backlash fall on us? You know how people are."

Daniel waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be paranoid. We'll do a little research to make sure everything checks out, but trust me, this is a great opportunity."

After he left, I sat for a while, mulling over his words. My initial excitement had been dampened by doubt, but I couldn't deny that the idea of a sponsorship was tempting. I picked up the phone and dialed Ethan Blackwood's number. It took a while for him to pick up, and when he did, his voice was flat and disinterested.

"I've got good news," I said, hoping to lift his spirits. "A temple wants to sponsor the show. Fifty thousand for six months."

There was a long pause. Then, finally, Ethan spoke. "Which temple?"

"The Seven Jewels Temple. They're pretty well-known around here."

Ethan remained silent for a few more seconds before sighing deeply. "Ethan, there are a lot of temples in this world, but not many with four words in their name. Be careful. You might be walking into something bigger than you realize."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a reason temples like that survive. Some of them… they operate in ways you wouldn't expect. If someone watches our show, gets inspired, and ends up duped at that temple… that's on you. And trust me, you don't want to carry that burden."

Ethan's words hit me like a bucket of cold water. He had a point. If someone fell victim to a scam because of our show, the blowback would be catastrophic—not just for The Friday Phantom, but for me personally. Still, I wasn't ready to abandon the idea without some investigation.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, I opened my laptop and typed "Seven Jewels Temple" into the search engine. The first result was a sleek, well-designed website boasting beautiful images of the temple grounds. There was even a charity section, promoting a campaign to fund schools in remote areas. It all seemed very legitimate—too good, even.

Still, I wasn't convinced. I dug deeper, scrolling past the polished front page until I found a post that caught my eye. It was written by a user named "DingDong," and the title read: My Aunt Was Healed at Seven Jewels Temple, But…

Curious, I clicked the link and began reading. The story that unfolded was strange, even by the standards of paranormal enthusiasts. DingDong's aunt had been suffering from severe tuberculosis, and after conventional treatments failed, she had turned to the temple. The monks there had prescribed an expensive regimen of rituals, donations, and a so-called "blessing soup," made from burnt incense ashes. Miraculously, the aunt's condition improved within weeks, and she became a devout follower of the temple, returning each month to give thanks.

But just a year later, she collapsed at work and was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer. She died shortly afterward, leaving her family devastated and questioning the legitimacy of the temple's healing practices.

I scrolled through the comments—most of them were dismissive of DingDong's story, praising the temple's work. But something about it didn't sit right with me.

If the Seven Jewels Temple was a fraud, how many others had fallen victim to its schemes? And more importantly, what would it mean for our show if we endorsed them?

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I knew what I had to do: before any deals were made, I needed to investigate the temple firsthand.