The Severed Trail
She considered it fortunate that they'd spotted those tailing or watching them and made it back to Osaka for the night. Sure, she could easily fend off a midnight ambush, but constantly waking up and scrambling around in the dead of night was exhausting. If she'd fallen to this Earth to eat and play her fill, then she ought to do just that. She had no patience for needless interruptions.
She was midway through buying one of each from the Japanese convenience store's best 10 must-buys and devouring them back at the house when Na-eun spoke up.
"I checked in with the client, and I barely managed to stop her from rushing over here right away."
"What'd she say?"
"She was thrilled they found traces of what happened on the ship. I haven't mentioned the dating app yet, but she seems to vaguely suspect something along those lines."
A simple YouTube search for "foreigners missing in Japan" pulled up endless results, so it wasn't strange that the client knew. Still, she was watching with the mindset that my son must've died for some other reason. Similar cases had turned out to be things like slipping off a seaside cliff at night, getting hit by a hit-and-run and dumped, or mauled by a bear.
"Starting tomorrow, she'll be circling around the inns where he stayed. Gotta see where the trail cuts off."
"He must've spoken Japanese pretty well, though. Free-traveling and switching lodgings every day like that."
"Wasn't using a translator app?"
"Even translator apps don't always work in rural spots, especially if the owner's an old-timer."
Not full-on far-right types ranting Josenshing on TV, but subtle discrimination from right-leaning owners was par for the course. Like holding you up for an hour claiming they couldn't parse the translator's output. Circling multiple hotels and minshuku would definitely run into that.
"We'll check it out ourselves tomorrow."
Na-eun looked like she had plenty to say but was holding back for now. She'd been replaying the videos nonstop, scrutinizing every move—it seemed her instincts were picking up on something.
"Ugh... gotta work hard again tomorrow, so let's call it early. You've been up since dawn for that flight, Na-eun."
"Yes."
Seo-ah stroked their tense shoulders, easing the strain a bit. First time on a job like this, and overseas to boot—probably felt like they had to try extra hard. Between the house here and all expenses handled through the corp account—flights, food—they felt the pressure to make it pay off. Not that it was necessary, but good was good.
The next day, they piled into the van before sunrise and headed south. The client's son, the missing man, had really toured the Kansai region—his week-long trail was flashy. Takamatsu udon taxi, then Wakayama by train, looping south to Nagoya. Retracing it was fine until the big cities, but he kept hopping off midway, busing into remote backwaters. Problem.
"Hard enough for a schoolteacher to globe-trot on breaks."
"He built confidence traveling China, Taiwan, Singapore back in the day. Japan's top-tier safe, so he let his guard down, probably."
Starting from the Wakayama inn, they looped south, hitting every lodging. By the time they reached Shimosato—the last reported stop—the sun was long set, sky pitch black.
"Even the yakuza came all the way to this boondock. Nothing around—aren't you scared?"
"Yeah, anything worth seeing?"
Even Tanaka, pure Osakan, was craning his neck curiously on the drive—first time here. Back to Osaka would take over three hours. Better book local lodging.
Tanaka glanced back, signaling for the best digs, then leaned in close.
"Boss lady."
"Yeah."
"There's a car tailing us since earlier. What should we do? Might need to loop in big bro."
"It's fine. Not a van, and just watching since yesterday—no moves incoming."
"Hmm... still, just in case, I'll ask the cops to stand by. Quick response on report."
"Sounds good."
Mistaking her nonchalance for foreign obliviousness to danger, he fired off a text. The place was far from the station, buses scarce—looked like he'd used a share-house app rather than a registered hotel. At the address, just a dark house. Paid via app, so no proof he'd actually stayed.
Maybe dropped bags, strolled the beach, met his end—or gotten done in before, with a third party footing the bill. Korean tourists rare here, so even Na-eun the shaman was getting faint vibes. Not every wronged soul becomes a ghost, but Korean-speaker traces would satisfy.
"Feels like something happened inside that building."
"No listings for it on any share apps now. Breaking in would be trespassing."
"We can slip in quick. Tanaka knows cops—should sort any hassle."
No daily-life traces screamed tourist-only rental. Locals probably shrugged at overnight guests.
As Tanaka stood guard out front, hand on his waist pistol, scanning, they snuck into the yard, checking pots and sills for keys. Rural share-house staple: spare under something.
"Boss! Here!"
The manager rummaged a yard-corner jar and unearthed a key. Unlocked, crept in—he followed. Walls unusually thick, dead silent—no outside noise.
"He stayed here."
Na-eun confirmed no sounds escaped, then fetched her bell and fan. True to her shaman grandma's disciple, her eyes gleamed gripping the tools—otherworldly aura prickling even Seo-ah.
"This okay to film?"
"Yeah. She even said it's good for name-dropping."
Grabbed the camera, filmed her shaking the bell, focusing. She roamed the living room, then kitchen behind. Flung open the sink cabinet, tapped the wooden back with the bell.
"Boss, something's here."
"Huh?"
"I'll go first."
Tanaka bowed from the hall, muscled in, nudged the wall. Panel rattled, then clunk—slid back. Pitch-black tunnel gaped. Creepy to enter.
"I'll check it out."
"Thanks."
Phone flashlight on, he waddled forward, nudged opposite wall. Not scoped perimeter—finger-plugged light leaks to muffle noise. Faint collapse from other side—back wall visible.
"They dug a doggy door in the house."
"...Japan preps for disasters like that?"
"No way."
Grabbed shoes, out the hole, resealed. Bricks and farm tools hid it—no close look needed. Short-stay renters? Less so.
"Presence cuts off here."
"So he made it this far?"
"If you buy ghosts."
She flashed a wry smile at the camera. Pushing unprovable ghost stuff as truth felt awkward. Desperate families trekking here vs. casual passersby—worlds apart. With big ghosts like Jesus and Allah doubted everywhere, who buys the little ones?
"Speak confidently. I upload clips—good results sell the ghosts."
"Really?"
While the duo coached her on camera angles, Seo-ah checked the back exit. Front gate to open rear formed a secret-free zone—unsettling. Normals have clear yard walls, one gate unless palace-sized. Rear spat into walled alleys—blind unless line-of-sight.
"Perfect for sneaking in, snatching a sleeping mark, bolting."
"Rural spots got these. Built for exactly that."
Gazing down the lane, eyes locked with a young man. The tailing car idled beside him.