15 Days
"Kyaaaaaaah!"
The plain-looking woman with short hair and glasses sitting up front—Nebata Noriko—suddenly screamed and ducked her head. Every pair of eyes in the van swung toward her.
The cause of the scream was an insect. A single hornet had gotten inside the vehicle and was circling lazily above Noriko's head.
"Wh-what the hell?!"
"A hornet?!"
"Somebody kill it already!"
The quiet interior of the van erupted into chaos in an instant.
Whenever the hornet drifted close, the men flailed and ducked as low as they could. It was a disgusting insect—one that could kill a person. Fear filled every pair of eyes, male and female alike.
"Shit!"
A guy with dyed yellow hair and piercings in his ears spat a curse and swung his bag at the hornet. The insect casually dodged the attack. The man twisted his lips and glared after it. He was the circle's infamous thug, the scrawny tattooed punk known as Tanaka Hiroshi.
Bzzzzz.
The hornet's movements turned aggressive. The buzz of its wings grew far more vicious. It dove straight at the nearest human—Hagawa Ryoko.
"Ryoko!"
Instead of the calmly reacting Hagawa Ryoko, Wada Kyoshiro lunged forward. Notebook in hand, he swatted the hornet hard. The insect shot backward. Nakagami Risa, sitting beside me, flinched in surprise and swung the smartphone in her hand, batting it away. Excellent reflexes. The problem was that the hornet was now flying straight at me.
I flicked my middle finger and struck the hornet's body dead-center. My physical abilities had dropped to ordinary human levels, but this much was hardly difficult.
The hornet slammed into the back of a seat and dropped to the floor. I crushed it under my shoe. The wet crunch of its body grinding apart registered under my sole. Sighs of relief rose from all around.
"Nakagami-senpai! I'm so sorry!"
Wada Kyoshiro stood and bowed deeply to Nakagami Risa. The hornet he had swatted had flown straight at her, after all.
Nakagami Risa shot Wada Kyoshiro a single cold look.
"Whatever."
Her voice was icy. Then she turned her gaze to me. The sharpness in her eyes had already softened.
"Sorry about just now. I was so startled I knocked it your way."
"It's fine. People panic. It happens."
"The way you flicked that hornet with your finger wasn't normal, though. You used to dealing with them?"
"Yes. I'm fairly used to them."
I answered with a smile.
I was not, in fact, used to hornets. This was the first one I'd seen since high school. But a mere hornet held no fear for me. After facing monsters that could kill ordinary people with a single hand, was I supposed to flinch at something this small?
"You're a first-year, right? What's your name?"
"Seong Yujin."
"...Korean?"
"Yes. I'm Korean. Do you dislike Korea, by any chance?"
"Not really. I actually like Korean dramas and K-pop."
Nakagami Risa said that and started fiddling with her smartphone. I made no effort to force the conversation further. Doing so would only come off as clingy, and that was a terrible way to build favorability.
Just not hating Koreans is already a win.
Among young Japanese women, people who actively disliked Korea were rare. With Korean dramas and music trending lately, more than a few even held positive feelings toward the country.
That doesn't apply to the guys, though.
Plenty of Japanese men looked down on Korea. Not just college students—even among professors, the majority sneered at the place. Some of the old fogies still thought Korea was stuck in the 1980s.
I usually ignored those types... but a few always insisted on picking fights hard enough that ignoring them became impossible.
There's one right here.
Tanaka Hiroshi. The yellow-haired thug with the piercings was glaring daggers at me. I met his stare head-on. A brief staring contest followed. Tanaka Hiroshi was the first to look away. He turned his eyes slowly, as if to say this isn't over.
I'll have to properly wreck him later.
Japan, the land of ijime.
Even workplace culture was soaked in bullying. Why would a university be any different?
I'm already halfway through being bullied myself.
Not the violent kind—more the subtle exclusion and quiet contempt. Soft ostracism. The reason for the ijime was simple: I was Korean.
Clunk-clunk.
I looked out the van window. Trees. Nothing but trees.
Even for a mountain village, this is ridiculous... Are we going too deep into the sticks?
Staring at the same scenery forever got boring. I pulled out my smartphone, opened a game I'd never seen before, and focused.
Gacha game. Plenty of currency... Time to pull. Gacha, let's go.
Great Luck (Lv. Master) has activated.
The skill fired and luck struck.
The moment I hit the pull button, the rate-up character punched through its 0.5% chance and appeared.
My mood, however, was thoroughly sour.
A skill that only triggers once a day, and it wastes itself on this garbage...? What the hell.
I shook my head.
I'd had decent hopes for the skill, but it felt like a complete dud. I shelved any expectations for Great Luck.
Fifteen minutes later, the van arrived at the village.
We had arrived at Ookaruma Village.
For a mountain village, it was fairly large. The fields were wide, and there were a number of modern buildings. The most eye-catching feature was the shrine perched on the mountain at the far end of the village. It was the largest structure here.
"Men stay in this building, women in that one. The festival starts tomorrow evening, so until then you're free to do as you like."
A large, heavily muscled man spoke. Short sporty hair, big eyes—his name was Mori Masahiro, president of the Japan Festival Study Circle. He had also been the one driving the van.
We entered the lodging. The building wasn't particularly large, but it wasn't inconvenient for daily life either. The problem was that there were seven men and only six rooms.
"You two first-years. I'll give you the biggest room, so share it."
"Yes, Mori-senpai."
"Yes."
Wada Kyoshiro and I answered together.
In the end, it came down to seniority. Two powerless first-years couldn't refuse a fourth-year who was also the circle president.
Should I just flip the whole table right now?
I held back.
It was far too early to start a riot. I hadn't even been in this world for a full hour. Information was still too scarce. I decided to stay quiet until I had gathered a decent amount of intel.
Wada Kyoshiro and I entered the spacious room on the first floor. It was a traditional Japanese tatami room. Spacious, yes—but the lack of beds was inconvenient.
"Seong-san. This is the first time we've properly met. I'm Wada Kyoshiro. Looking forward to working with you."
Wada Kyoshiro held out his hand for a handshake. A pure face free of any prejudice. This bastard was definitely the protagonist of this world. I hid my distaste and took his hand.
"Seong Yujin. Since we're rooming together, let's get along."
"Yeah. Seong-san."
We set down our luggage. An awkward atmosphere was settling in when the door opened and President Mori Masahiro walked in.
"You two first-years. If you've got nothing better to do, mind giving me a hand?"
"Mori-senpai! Yes! Of course we'll help!"
"...I'll help."
"Thanks, both of you. The second- and third-years aren't cooperative at all... You two just saved me. I'll definitely repay this."
Mori Masahiro's tone reeked of old-fashioned stiffness. Pure boomer energy. Honestly, I didn't want to get involved... but I needed original-story information. I carved the character for "endurance" into my mind and asked him,
"Mori-senpai. What do you need us to do?"
At my question, Mori Masahiro lifted a camera and held it out to me. I took it on reflex. A DSLR, I think they called it. Heavy, expensive-looking.
"I need material for a report. We'll walk around the village taking photos and interviewing residents about the festival. Seong, you just focus on the pictures. Wada and I will handle the interviews."
I got the feeling. He had cut me from the interview role because I was Korean.
"Yes, yes. Understood."
If anything, it was a relief. All I had to do was hang back a little and click the shutter—easy work.
We followed Mori out of the lodging and circled the village.
After about two hours of walking, I had a rough grasp of the village layout. We tried to climb up to the shrine on the mountain at the edge of the village, but elderly people working the fields near the entrance stopped us.
"Don't move!"
"Outsiders are not allowed up to the shrine!"
Even as old men, their bodies weren't frail. Whether from farm work or something else, muscular physiques showed through their shirts. And with farming tools in hand, just standing there was already a threat.
"Why not? We simply wish to pay our respects at the shrine."
Mori Masahiro spoke calmly. Even calm, his massive frame was intimidating. The old men swallowed hard, as if hiding their fear, and answered.
"The shrine is currently performing the sealing rites. Preparations for tomorrow's festival."
"No one may enter during the sealing rites. Climb the shrine after the festival ends."
Mori Masahiro stepped back.
"Ah. I see. We didn't know. May we at least take photos of the shrine?"
"As long as you don't go up, it doesn't matter."
Mori Masahiro gestured to me. I raised the camera and photographed the shrine. The building itself looked decent enough that taking pictures was actually satisfying.
Wada Kyoshiro approached the old men and struck up a conversation.
"Is there a shrine maiden at the shrine?"
"A miko-sama? Of course there is. Tomorrow night the miko-sama will walk through the village and bestow blessings."
"Would we be able to receive a blessing as well?"
"Come out into the streets tomorrow night. Then the miko-sama will walk the village and give blessings."
"Would we be able to receive a blessing as well?"
"Come out into the streets tomorrow night. Then the miko-sama will bestow blessings upon you in place of the mountain god."
"I see. We'll make sure to come out tomorrow night."
The short interview ended. We resumed walking the village.
I was growing steadily more bored of taking photos.
It was sort of fun at first.
The sun began to sink.
"Mori-senpai. Let's head back. There's no restaurant in this village, so we need to prepare food."
"The women said they'd take care of that. Good work, both of you. I brought some beer—I'll share it with you."
"Oh, beer! Thank you!"
"But first, one last interview. Ah, this is a personal question, so no need to record it."
"We've got plenty of space, so I'll record it anyway."
"Alright. Thanks, Wada."
Mori Masahiro nodded and headed toward the fields. An old man working a potato field saw us and straightened up. Then he just stared.
"Senpai. That guy... doesn't he give you a weird feeling?"
His body was stick-thin, eyes sunken deep. Those pitch-black pupils looked like a corpse's eyes.
"That's rude to an elderly person."
"Ah, sorry."
"Well... I do find him a bit unsettling myself."
Mori Masahiro approached the old man and spoke.
"Good day. We're students from Naio University. Would you mind a short interview?"
"Interview?"
"Nothing major."
"......"
The old man nodded. Go ahead, the gesture said.
"Around this time last year, I heard five people went missing in Ookaruma Village. Do you know anything about them?"
"...Are you relatives of the missing people?"
"No. We're not relatives."
"I don't know much about that business. And that matter is already finished."
"Finished? You mean the missing people returned?"
"The police finished their investigation."
The old man spun around. He raised a sharp sickle and slammed it into the ground as if in irritation. The sight was thoroughly grotesque.
"Sir."
"I've got nothing more to say. Don't talk to me."
Mori Masahiro started to speak to the old man again, then gave up. We headed back toward the lodging.
Before entering, I spoke to them.
"Mori-senpai. I'm going to stop by the general store for a moment, then come back."
"Hm? Need something?"
"Cup ramen. For a late-night snack."
"Alright."
I handed him the camera and stepped into the general store. It stocked most everyday necessities. By the time I came back out, the sun had fully set. Being a mountain village, the night was far darker than a city's. No streetlights either—getting back looked difficult.
Smartphone light has its limits... While I'm here, I should buy a flashlight.
I bought a flashlight and started walking.
I felt eyes on me.
I turned my head. The old man from earlier was standing stock-still in the field, staring straight at me. A sharp sickle hung in his hand.
I ignored the unsettling old man and kept walking.
But even after fifty meters, the old man was still watching me. My mood soured, and I shouted at him.
"Old man! You got something to say? If not, quit staring!"
"......"
The old man didn't so much as twitch. He just kept watching me.
I frowned and changed direction, walking straight toward him.