Chapter 65: I Kind of Like Custom-Ridden Villages, So Let’s Give It a Shot Just Once!
Among the group of five university students, he was the least remarkable of them all—a perfectly ordinary young man who would disappear into any crowd.
And yet, after drawing near a certain village, he found himself plagued by a series of bizarre phenomena.
For instance, despite having been nothing more than an average university student, he suddenly began suffering from hallucinations and hearing voices that shouldn’t exist.
At first, he seemed to handle it well enough.
But little by little, his words and behavior would start to grow increasingly strange. Before anyone realized it, he would drift away from the others and begin acting on his own.
And after independently poking into one mystery after another…
He would unknowingly edge closer and closer to the truth.
In stories like these, the one who uncovers the truth is almost always the first to lose their sanity.
Because they’re too perceptive.
They learn things that no human was ever meant to know and reach out to touch things that should never be touched.
In a village steeped in old superstitions and sinister traditions…
That was simply how things went.
Which meant—
“So, with that in mind, I’m gonna split off from the group for a bit.”
“Gouto-kun has finally found the perfect excuse to classify hallucinations and voices as part of the ‘normal’ horror-movie formula…”
“Doesn’t count. He was crazy from the very beginning.”
Setting that aside…
Shouldn’t people normally be a little more concerned if their best friend or childhood friend started seeing things and hearing voices?
Even Meiko had abandoned worrying about my hallucinations entirely and had instead begun fretting over my future from a completely different angle.
“I only ever wanted you to grow into a considerate young man…”
She looked genuinely heartbroken.
And as for Kuwajima…
She had already completely lost interest in me and was enthusiastically chatting with one of the girls about Minecraft without even sparing me a glance.
…Whatever.
I didn’t have time to correct every misunderstanding.
After all, if we wanted to fully enjoy a superstitious village in a single overnight stay, we’d have to speedrun the event schedule.
It was still only a little past noon.
If we kept a good pace, we could probably squeeze in four or five supernatural incidents before the day was over.
The task of guiding Taketsuru’s so-called Hero’s Party would be left to Miya—the quieter half of the village’s infamous “superstition twins.”
Meanwhile…
I was off to negotiate with the other mastermind alongside the village chief.
Incidentally, that other mastermind—the Owner of the Mysterious Voice—trailed silently behind me, beads of cold sweat running down her face. She made no attempt to protest or assert herself, merely following me with the expression of someone marching toward her own sentencing.
The village chief’s house stood a short distance away from the guesthouse Fushijishi-an.
Like many country homes, it occupied an extravagant amount of land despite being a single-story building, and it looked grand enough that one could mistake it for a small estate rather than a private residence. It was honestly even more impressive than the inn.
Had his family once been major landowners?
Come to think of it, the hallucination had mentioned something about the hereditary priests who served the local guardian deity…
“So… this is about the festival, then? Though… why did you bring Mana with you as well?”
After showing us into the living room, the chief’s wife served everyone tea.
Only then did the village chief cautiously broach the subject.
As he looked at me with unmistakable “We have to do something about this guy as soon as possible” eyes, I quietly organized my thoughts.
What would be the most efficient way to steer this conversation?
My mission was simple.
Resolve the entire “superstitious village” incident as quickly, peacefully, and decisively as possible.
Or, more accurately…
To complete this entire haunted-village experience as though it were nothing more than a test of courage.
If possible, I would’ve liked to enjoy the village the same way everyone else did.
Piecing together fragments of folklore.
Speculating about hidden truths.
Getting swept up in the mystery.
Unfortunately…
As I’d said earlier, I’d already entered the phase where the protagonist separates from the group and learns the truth ahead of everyone else.
There was no mystery left for me to unravel.
No fun in gathering clues.
No satisfaction in forming theories.
And all of that was because this village’s guardian deity had the cybersecurity standards of an unsecured public Wi-Fi network.
Seriously.
Getting outplayed by my own hallucination?
Didn’t she have any pride as a god?
The guardian deity silently lowered her head.
From an outside perspective, she looked exactly like a child being scolded.
But in reality…
Perhaps she was more like an adult who had just watched a child effortlessly see through her terrible acting.
Or maybe…
She actually looked frightened of me.
…No.
Scratch that.
I’m just an ordinary university student you could find anywhere.
There’s no reason a god would be afraid of me.
Right.
Let’s start here.
Before I could persuade the village chief, there was one piece of information we absolutely had to put on the table.
Hey, Voice-in-my-Head.
The chief already seems vaguely aware that a guardian deity exists, doesn’t he?
Mind if I tell him who you really are?
“…Yeah… I suppose… That’s… fine.”
Her answer came slowly, hesitantly.
Still.
I chose to interpret it as permission.
In that case…
Time for the spoiler reveal.
“Then I’ll get straight to the point. I already know that you—including the village chief and everyone else in this village—have been working together to turn this place, ‘Fushijishi Village’… officially known as Fujitari Village… into a fake ‘superstitious village’ attraction. Trap young travelers here. Scare them into staying overnight. Collect lodging fees. A pretty clever business model, I’d say.”
“K-ghrk—”
The village chief emitted a strangled noise, sounding as though something had lodged itself in his throat.
But that wasn’t even the important part.
“The second thing is this. The girl you believe to be your granddaughter, Mana… is actually the guardian deity worshipped by this entire village. She’s the one responsible for every supernatural incident that’s been happening here. You… didn’t know that?”
“Huh…? Wh… whaa…?”
“Your explanation is WAY TOO ABRUPT!!”
What?
If that wasn’t the proper way to explain it, then how exactly was I supposed to do it?
Think about the situation.
A complete stranger was introducing another complete stranger…
…who just so happened to be a guardian deity…
…to yet another complete stranger.
If there was an official etiquette manual for this scenario, someone really should’ve published it already.
The chief’s throat, which had been making wheezing noises moments earlier, appeared to have finally reached its limit.
His complexion had turned deathly pale.
Though honestly…
Was becoming this shocked really necessary?
He’d already suspected there was some kind of guardian deity around.
──────
The Village Chief’s View of the Guardian Deity
Ever since childhood, his family had passed down stories about the local guardian deity as part of their household traditions.
Because of that, the deity had always felt strangely familiar.
That said…
He had never been particularly devout.
He simply carried out the traditional rituals because that was what his family had always done.
So being told—
“The guardian deity exists.”
Was already difficult enough.
Being told—
“She’s standing right in front of you.”
Was infinitely worse.
The instant her true identity was revealed, he realized that the guardian deity had been disguised as his own granddaughter all this time.
Fear.
Reverence.
Confusion.
Embarrassment.
Every possible emotion tangled together inside him.
To make matters worse…
That meant she also knew every humiliating secret he’d accumulated throughout his life.
The bedwetting incidents from childhood.
The desperate prayers he’d made before confessing to the woman who would become his wife.
Every embarrassing memory.
All of them.
Those memories flashed through his mind like a life review.
…Ah.
This is bad.
──────
“Village Chief.”
“You can relax.”
“I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in your childhood bedwetting history or the exact lines you used when confessing to your wife.”
“Shbwagh…”
“WHY WOULD YOU BRING THOSE UP SPECIFICALLY?!”
I was only trying to demonstrate that I wasn’t hostile.
Honestly.
Who in the world wanted to hear stories about an old man’s childhood bedwetting?
──────
【Me @ Apparently Appraisal Skill★】
One comment:
Was that information really necessary?
──────
I literally just said it wasn’t.
After waiting for the chief to finish his tea and recover enough to breathe normally again…
The discussion between three parties—
One perfectly ordinary university student.
One village chief.
And one guardian deity.
—finally began.
First, I decided to organize the situation from a completely objective, impartial standpoint.
To begin with…
The fact that the villagers were acting in concert to force unsuspecting outsiders into participating in their fake “superstitious village” events was, frankly speaking, walking a very dangerous legal tightrope.
If they truly weren’t inconveniencing anyone, that would be one thing.
But thanks to the guardian deity’s interference, things had become significantly more complicated.
Depending on how things unfolded, what they were doing could potentially fall under criminal offenses such as intimidation or unlawful confinement.
Being welcoming toward visitors?
Perfectly fine.
However…
If they began inventing arbitrary village taboos—actions that were perfectly legal under Japanese law but supposedly forbidden by “ancient village customs”—and then threatened outsiders with consequences for breaking those rules…
That crossed the line.
That could constitute criminal intimidation or coercion.
Saying things like—
“If you do that, you’ll die.”
“Drive the outsider out immediately!”
“Kill the impure outsider!”
The moment those threats were spoken aloud with the intent of instilling fear…
They became legally dangerous.
And if, after making those threats, they accidentally locked someone inside a shrine…
Or trapped them in a cave…
Or confined them inside some old-style storage room…
Then congratulations.
That became unlawful imprisonment.
If physical violence occurred in the process and someone was injured…
That naturally escalated into assault.
Fraud might be harder to prove.
But if someone looked closely enough, I had a feeling they’d probably uncover a fair amount of legal dust beneath the surface.
And…
If it ever progressed all the way to murder…
Well.
There wasn’t much left to say.
At that point, it stopped being a tourism project.
It became an actual cursed village.
So yes.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with trying to revitalize a dying rural community.
But an otherwise ordinary depopulated village shouldn’t imitate genuinely dangerous traditions without fully understanding the consequences.
The villagers might think they’re only acting.
Playing roles.
Having fun.
But if outsiders reasonably believe those threats are real…
Then the law won’t simply laugh it off as a joke.
Because if someone truly wanted to…
They could sue this village at any time.
…That said.
If every supernatural incident had actually been caused by the guardian deity herself…
Then, strangely enough, there wasn’t much of a legal problem.
Because Japan has no laws governing guardian deities.
The guardian deity was, legally speaking…
Completely innocent.
After all, how exactly was the legal system supposed to prosecute someone for placing a curse that made social media turn against you?
Which meant…
If every mysterious event had simply been a supernatural phenomenon caused by the deity herself, then I could overlook it.
But if human beings willingly took over those same acts as part of their tourism campaign…
That was another matter entirely.
“Is everything up to this point clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then now that you both understand I know exactly what’s been going on… Let’s move on to a more constructive discussion.”
Only after laying out the facts and making them acknowledge the problems with their current position did I finally move toward my actual objective.
Because everything I’d said so far…
Had merely been the preface.
The setup.
Truth be told…
Even if this village somehow wound up splashed across the front page of some newspaper in the future…
I honestly wasn’t all that interested.
I wasn’t sure how much of an impact my explanation had made on the guardian deity.
But judging by the way the chief had instinctively straightened his posture…
It had certainly worked on him.
Still…
Now that I thought about it…
Surely they’d considered these legal risks before launching the project.
Any community revitalization effort involved weighing costs against benefits.
Surely there had been some sort of strategy.
Out of simple curiosity…
I decided to ask.
“To begin with… Why did you decide that turning the village into a fake superstitious village was the right way to revitalize it? What were your projected costs? Expected returns? How did you evaluate whether this approach was strategically worthwhile?”
“Well… Um… How should I put this…”
“Go on.”
“…I just really like urban legends. So I figured I’d give it a try. That’s all.”
“…Excuse me?”
Something wasn’t adding up.
I’d just asked about cost-benefit analysis.
Long-term planning.
Return on investment.
Strategic objectives.
And the answer I received…
Sounded like an elementary school kid in the countryside saying,
“It looked fun, so I jumped into the river.”
…Surely that couldn’t be allowed.
“This village already had legends about its guardian deity, didn’t it?”
“Did you never consider preserving those traditions, promoting them, raising the village’s profile, and eventually developing the concept into a long-term tourism business?”
“Something with an actual strategy behind it?”
“…No. Honestly? It was just… enthusiasm. We tried it once for fun. The first group of young travelers wandered in, got nicely scared, spent money at the inn… And we thought, ‘Hey… this actually works.’”
The village chief…
Hadn’t thought any of this through.
So what was the truth?
He’d basically gone,
“I like creepy villages. Let’s try making one ourselves!”
Somehow it worked.
Everyone got caught up in the excitement.
And before they knew it…
The whole village had been enthusiastically role-playing a cursed village for years.
What exactly did he think community revitalization was?
“Please wait! My children had their reasons!”
“…I just asked what those reasons were.”
“The reason everything succeeded despite their complete lack of planning… is partly my fault as well!”
“I know.”
Naturally.
The only reason this fake haunted-village attraction had become such a success in the first place…
Was because the guardian deity herself had gotten involved.
It’s a classic development.
Amateurs imitate an ancient ritual they barely understand…
Somehow perform it correctly by sheer coincidence…
And accidentally trigger something real.
Sometimes the people who successfully perform the ritual suffer horribly afterward.
Other times…
It completely changes their lives for the better.
This village had originally been nothing more than an unremarkable rural community.
But by pure chance, its guardian deity had enthusiastically played along with their little performance.
That coincidence transformed the place into a genuine attraction.
Still…
There was no guarantee that success wouldn’t eventually demand repayment.
For now…
I still had questions for the guardian deity.
She could sit quietly and wait.
The lecture would come afterward.