Chapter 64: There Are Twins Who Look Like They’re From an Old Custom-Ridden Village!
Led by the village chief, we set off toward his home.
We could have negotiated right there on the spot, of course, but holding such a conversation while standing in the middle of the road felt unnecessarily rude.
In the countryside, traveling by car was the default. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a vehicle large enough to carry all six of us at once, so walking it was.
Well… if one completely ignored traffic laws, a kei truck could fit an absurd number of passengers in its cargo bed.
But with the local police officer watching, even a village staging an elaborate fake haunted-village attraction apparently had enough self-restraint not to commit obvious traffic violations.
Strange priorities.
“Sorry there’s really nothing here,” the village chief said apologetically as he led the way. “Even if young folks come to visit, there isn’t much for them to enjoy. Though… we do have plenty of nature.”
The elderly man calling himself the village chief was exactly what one imagined upon hearing the phrase Japanese village elder.
His thinning white hair was perhaps his most defining physical feature, and judging from everything I’d seen so far, he was almost certainly the mastermind behind this entire Traditional Cursed Village Tourism Project.
At the moment, he was enthusiastically playing the role of the kind old village chief who warmly welcomes outsiders.
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“Fujitani Sōichi”
Position: Village Chief / Chief Priest
Family: Wife, three sons, three daughters-in-law, eight grandchildren
Current Worry: His steadily thinning hair.
Acting Ability: Extremely enthusiastic.
Spiritual Sensitivity: Has some. Slightly more than Kuwajima Taeko.
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Despite being the chief of a village suffering from severe depopulation, the thing keeping him up at night was his receding hairline.
Shouldn’t he be worrying about the declining population instead?
Then again…
This was the same man who’d responded to rural decline by turning the entire village into a haunted attraction.
Aggressive problems required aggressive solutions, apparently.
Japan’s shrinking countryside was undeniably a difficult issue…
“If you could summarize the village’s population, age distribution, existing businesses, and major industries, I might be able to offer some suggestions from a regional revitalization standpoint. What do you think?”
“…Eh?”
“Sorry. He’s… a little strange.”
Just as I started digging into the information he’d casually offered, Taketsuru immediately cut me off.
Right.
That’s true.
Your average, perfectly ordinary university student didn’t immediately begin offering policy proposals for rural revitalization.
That had slipped out by reflex.
I should reflect on that.
The village chief blinked in confusion for a moment before composing himself.
“A-ah, yes. Well… my family has run a guesthouse here for generations. We don’t get many visitors these days, so… if you’d like, we’d be happy to let you stay. I can’t exactly make it free, but… I’ll give you a good discount.”
“I see.”
So that was the monetization strategy.
I’d been wondering how exactly this whole haunted-village business translated into actual revenue.
The answer was simple.
Trap visitors.
Then put them in the family inn.
Naturally, if travelers suddenly found themselves unable to leave the village, they’d have to sleep somewhere.
Unless some kind villager invited them into their home out of pure generosity—which, given the setup, was probably one possible route—the official path led straight to the guesthouse.
Where they paid lodging fees.
How ruthless.
A perfectly disguised self-serving act of kindness.
Lure unsuspecting travelers into the village…
Prevent them from leaving…
Then charge them for accommodation.
It was practically the business model of debt collectors.
Without the whole haunted village premise wrapped around it, someone probably could have sued.
While squeezing money out of stranded tourists, they’d drip-feed eerie incidents one by one, steadily building suspense until the grand finale at the Bon Festival before finally releasing everyone back into civilization.
And now that I thought about it…
They probably had different “traditional curses” depending on the season.
If someone visited in spring, the climax wouldn’t be Obon—it’d be some other local ritual.
I could practically picture the innkeeper cheerfully serving breakfast while saying,
“Oh my, speaking of which… have you heard about that shrine over on the mountain?”
before casually directing guests toward the next haunted location.
“Ufufufu. But in exchange, you’ll experience a summer you’ll never forget. Please, enjoy Fushijishi Village. Truly… savor it to your heart’s content.”
The problem, however…
…was that this village had absolutely nothing to offer besides cursed folklore.
We continued walking through the sleepy village.
Every so often we’d pass an elderly resident or a child standing in what almost looked like deliberately chosen positions, exchange a few words, then continue onward.
Though…
If I were being accurate…
There were hardly any adults.
Mostly elderly people.
Occasionally a housewife.
But almost nobody of working age.
Well, naturally.
People in the prime of their lives were, presumably, working.
After receiving word from the police officer’s wife that new “victims” had arrived, the elderly villagers had likely been mobilized to perform their haunted-village roles.
Working adults probably didn’t have time for such elaborate theater.
Instead…
Perhaps tempted with pocket money.
Or maybe promises of a new video game.
Children occasionally appeared, awkwardly singing nursery rhymes.
Yes.
The obligatory haunted village nursery rhyme.
Sometimes it foreshadowed serial murders.
Sometimes it praised the local deity.
Sometimes it concealed ancient truths.
Whatever the content, these songs were almost always key pieces of the mystery.
Memorizing the lyrics was practically mandatory.
“You guys,” I said seriously, “make sure you memorize the nursery rhyme later. We’ll ask for a lyric sheet.”
“…The combination of nursery rhyme and printed lyric sheet somehow destroys the atmosphere,” Meiko sighed.
“I’d rather it be something passed down orally through generations,” Kuwajima added.
Sure…
But sooner or later someone would inevitably reveal the original version, or the true lyrics known only by the village chief.
Having a printed copy would make taking notes much easier.
Besides…
Songs passed down solely through oral tradition usually involved things humanity really shouldn’t have been worshipping.
“Everyone, we’ve arrived.”
The village chief smiled proudly.
“This is our inn.”
“Fushijishi-an.”
After dutifully progressing through yet another standard introductory event, we finally reached the guesthouse run by the chief’s family.
He’d described it as modest.
That was…
An understatement.
It was far more impressive than I’d expected.
Perhaps “historic” described it better.
The wooden architecture carried generations of history in every beam.
The carefully maintained roof.
The polished entrance.
Everything radiated the quiet dignity of an old countryside estate.
While I merely admired it inwardly, everyone else voiced their impressions aloud.
“Whoa… this place is incredible.”
“Yuu-kun! Look at the garden!”
“If we’d planned to stay here from the beginning, I’d be genuinely excited…”
“Oh! Look!”
Kuwajima pointed dramatically.
“They even have creepy haunted-village twins!”
The village chief’s lips twitched ever so slightly.
Just as Sumire had said, the garden surrounding Fushijishi-an was beautifully maintained.
A tranquil pond reflected the summer sky.
Carefully pruned trees cast cool shadows over winding stone paths.
And there…
Perfectly positioned in the middle of the garden…
Two young twin girls bounced a temari ball back and forth while softly singing a nursery rhyme.
Of course they were.
The level of commitment to the haunted-village aesthetic was almost admirable.
“Hohoho.”
The chief chuckled proudly.
“My granddaughters.”
He called toward them.
“Come now, girls. Say hello.”
The twins—perhaps nine years old—stopped playing and bowed politely.
“…”
Neither of them spoke.
Instead, after bowing, they quietly resumed bouncing the ball.
“Sorry about that,” the chief laughed awkwardly.
“They’re terribly shy.”
“Not at all.”
Everyone accepted the explanation without issue.
Naturally.
This, too, was part of the script.
Twin girls in a cursed village were practically guaranteed to begin as distant, only to later reveal some crucial clue that shattered the entire mystery.
Everything unfolding before me was almost painfully textbook.
Honestly…
It was moving.
A world where events progressed exactly as they were supposed to…
Without me having to intervene.
If only my everyday life worked this smoothly.
At this point, every major piece of the haunted-village puzzle seemed assembled.
Although…
For a village suffering such severe depopulation…
Finding actual twins must have been surprisingly difficult.
…Hm?
A hallucination suddenly popped into view.
I read it once.
Then quietly murmured,
“…I see.”
“Taketsuru.”
“Yeah?”
“Now that we’ve reached the inn, I’d like to have a discussion with the village chief.”
“Can I leave the lodging arrangements to you?”
“I mean… sure, I can handle that.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“But honestly? The scariest part isn’t the haunted village. It’s the fact that you’re about to have a private conversation with the village chief.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not going to be just the two of us.”
“…What?”
Ignoring his confusion, I asked him to arrange a one-night stay before turning back toward the chief.
His expression practically screamed,
“Wait… is this guy actually serious about holding the festival today?”
Yes.
I was.
And if achieving that required using every resource available…
Then so be it.
“Well then, Chief.”
“Shall we have a little talk? It won’t take long. My request is extremely simple.”
“…But…”
The old man smiled awkwardly.
“Festivals aren’t something decided by human convenience alone. Surely you understand that?”
“In that case…”
I smiled.
“If the deity being worshipped approves… then holding it earlier would be acceptable, correct?”
“…W-Well… I suppose. Yes. That… might be true.”
Naturally, I still hadn’t received detailed information about this festival.
But by haunted-village standards…
It almost certainly revolved around the local guardian deity.
“Ahahahaha. Whatever are you talking about? None of you’re leaving this village. Just stay here quietly… and enjoy yourselves until I’ve had my fill.”
The mysterious voice had apparently regained her confidence.
I ignored her.
No…
That wasn’t quite right.
Instead…
I turned my gaze toward the twins.
Because another hallucination had appeared.
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“Fujitani Miya”
Position: One of Fujitani Sōichi’s granddaughters
Favorite Game: Mine●raft
Notes: Only helping because she’s getting allowance money. Honestly finds this whole thing troublesome.
──────
“Fujitani Mana”
Position: One of Fujitani Sōichi’s granddaughters
Favorite Game: Mine●raft
Notes: Acting according to the script.
True Identity: Local Guardian Deity
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Fake twins.
…Or rather…
Which was it?
Had there originally been real twins…
With one secretly replaced?
Or…
Had the deity used divine power to insert herself into reality, making everyone naturally believe there had always been two granddaughters?
Either explanation was possible.
Didn’t matter.
Only one fact mattered.
The one standing here…
Wasn’t human.
For once…
The hallucinations had actually done something useful.
If I could secure the actual party involved…
Then we could fast-track everything.
If humans weren’t allowed to decide when the festival happened…
Then we’d simply negotiate directly with the god.
Leaving the village chief standing there in bewilderment, I walked toward the two girls.
Behind me, I heard Kuwajima quietly mutter,
“…This is starting to look like a police case.”
I’ll remember that, Kuwajima.
The girls clearly hadn’t expected me to approach them.
Smiling as gently as I could, I spoke.
“Hello. My name’s Kirishiro Gouto. It’s nice to meet you.”
“H-hello…”
There was nervousness in her voice.
Not bad.
I knew how to use my face.
I’d secretly learned a few tricks from Aoba-senpai.
“If you smile naturally, children lower their guard surprisingly quickly.”
Kind voice.
Pleasant appearance.
Familiar connection.
Those three things alone dramatically reduced a child’s instinctive wariness.
Aoba-senpai…
Your casual advice had finally proven useful.
The rest…
Only required a little practical incentive.
“You’re Miya-chan, right? I heard your grandfather mention your name.”
“Y-yes. I’m Miya. And this is my twin sister, Mana.”
“H-hello…”
Knowing someone’s name…
Mentioning their grandfather…
Those tiny details unconsciously transformed me from stranger into someone connected.
That alone lowered the final wall.
“You’re doing such a good job helping your family.”
I discreetly held out a folded thousand-yen bill.
“This is our little secret. If you’d be willing to chat with one of my friends… The lady dressed in black absolutely loves Minecraft.”
“…Really!?”
Her eyes sparkled instantly.
“Sure!”
I successfully bought the real granddaughter’s cooperation for one thousand yen.
For the record…
Kuwajima genuinely did enjoy games.
She’d make decent conversation.
Whether Minecraft should logically exist in a village supposedly sunk beneath a dam decades ago…
Well…
Children didn’t worry about continuity errors.
Miya happily scampered over toward Kuwajima, clutching her prize.
After watching her leave…
I turned toward the remaining “twin.”
The one whose expression subtly suggested she expected her own allowance.
I leaned closer.
Close enough that only she could hear.
Then whispered…
“Perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘nice to meet you.'”
“It’s an honor.”
“The real owner of that mysterious voice.”
“Yes.”
“If you’d rather I didn’t expose your identity… You’ll be joining these negotiations.”
“…Eh?”
Now then.
Shall we begin negotiations?