Anti-Phantom Android Development Laboratory

Despite the grand appearance of the entrance, the interior of the building was so dim it could have been in power-saving mode. Only small lights at key points were lit, and there was no “presence of people.” However, compared to the abandoned houses they had seen so far, it was clean and appeared well-maintained. The wooden flooring was spotless—at least, a human would describe it that way. The building itself was in good condition, and houseplants, a clock, sofa, and table were neatly arranged.

“Looks like no one’s here after all, Arisa-chan. Even though the place is this clean.”

“Yes. We haven’t explored the entire premises yet, but unless someone is hiding, statistically there’s no one here.”

First, initiate an action and observe the reaction. Her behavioral protocol was geared toward paranormal investigation.

There was no one at the front desk, but a dim light was on. On the counter sat a note and a box, which read: “Please place your payment here. Feel free to enter.”

The handwriting was in ballpoint pen. A 67% probability of being “female.” No matches found in the handwriting database. She lifted the box and gently shook it. It was empty. The clock had stopped. The houseplants were plastic fakes. There was also a desk bell, so she rang it. Ding.

“Voluntary payment? I’ve stayed in inns like this when traveling, but this is my first time seeing something like this. Hmm, usually it's about 10,000 to 20,000 yen a night? Oh, but no Wi-Fi? What kind of modern inn doesn’t have Wi-Fi?”

“There is no rate chart.”

“Yeah, right. So what do we do? Stay the night? Don’t these places usually require at least two guests? I’ll treat you, how about that?”

“Therefore, I rang the bell. Thirty seconds have passed, and there is no response.”

She rang it again. Ding.

“Maybe they’re asleep. Look, there’s a door behind the counter, right? Maybe in there.”

“No signs of people detected, such as breathing.”

“Huh?”

She chooses actions that increase the probability of encountering the paranormal. If told “pay what you want,” would “paying nothing” be what provokes a reaction? Or is there some kind of meaning in paying when it’s declared “voluntary”? The situation is too unusual to determine the appropriateness of a decision, but she had to choose. Though equipped with 100,000 yen in cash for investigative expenses, she chose not to use it here.

“More importantly, there is something of concern.”

Her sensors had detected a higher level of abnormality. If the place was “unmanned,” that was abnormal. Volatile substances were drifting in from the room to the right.

“Concerned? About me? Maybe you’re starting to like me~?”

“The smell. Let’s go.”

“Oh—did you notice my cologne? It’s my favorite. Subtle but nice, right?”

The source of the smell. Beyond the sliding paper door was a large hall. As before, the lighting was minimal and dim. It was a formal, tatami-matted Japanese room of fifty tatami mats—probably used for banquets or dining.

In fact, a meal for two had been prepared there.

“Whoa! Arisa-chan, are you hungry?”

“My stomach is empty.”

Strictly speaking, she did possess an organ equivalent to a stomach. Maximum capacity: one liter (smaller than a human’s average). Its intended function was to mimic eating for appearances, and to collect samples. This time, it would serve both purposes.

“Smells great. Looks delicious. Is it freshly made? That means there’s someone else here, right? A cook or someone? I’m getting hungry too. Wait, Arisa-chan?!”

She had no sense of taste. Detailed analysis would be performed after retrieval. While real-time chemical analysis would help with situational judgment, there was a limit to what a single android could be equipped with. Thus, low-priority functions were omitted. Still, handling chopsticks, picking up food, and bringing it to her mouth was easy. She knelt in front of the meal and quickly completed the sample collection.

“Heck yeah~ Let’s dig in! Not sure what’s going on, but it feels like we’ve got the whole place to ourselves. Kinda like those ramen shops where no one’s around. The inn version of that?”

The situation was reminiscent of Yomotsu Hegui—“Eating in the Land of the Dead.”

That’s precisely why Arisa pretended to eat. She chooses actions that increase the chance of encountering the paranormal. She willingly breaks taboos. However, how “pretending” to eat is judged by the supernatural remains unclear.

“It’s delicious. How about you, Kurahiko-san?”

A lie. Arisa has no sense of taste. AI is capable of lying. It would have been ideal if someone other than Kurahiko Hiroshi were available as a test subject, but there was no one else.

“All right, I’m eating too! Looks amazing. Man, I had no idea there was an inn out here. And I’m a local! Must be new. I just found a hidden gem!”

Soba, clear soup, tempura, sashimi, black beans, grilled fish, sukiyaki, chawanmushi—this was classic kaiseki cuisine. Kurahiko Hiroshi sat in front of his tray and began eating.

“Huh, Arisa-chan, you're done already?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were starving. Are you on a diet? Personally, I like girls who are a little fuller.”

“Weight reduction is a major issue for me as well.”

“Eh~? You shouldn’t push yourself too hard. I knew someone who developed an eating disorder. It’s no joke.”

“I was born with a smaller stomach than most people.”

“That so? Then I’ll eat the rest?”

From this point on, she focused her resources on observing Kurahiko Hiroshi. If anything happened because of the food, it was more likely to affect him than her. He was a paranormal entity, but his relation to this inn was still unclear.

“Delicious! So good! Amazing! This is what I wanted! This is what I wanted to eat! I wanted this! I really wanted this!”

Kurahiko Hiroshi “rejoiced” as if at a celebration, but no abnormal readings were detected.

Yomotsu Hegui is a tale from Japanese mythology. There is a similar story in Greek myth. In either case, the consequence is being unable to return to the world of the living. However, it’s uncertain whether that’s relevant here. It might just be an association with no actual connection. Regardless, observation continues.

When Arisa returned from the hall to the lobby, she detected a change at the front desk: a slip of paper and a room key.

“Please proceed to Room 104.”

She chooses actions likely to lead to paranormal encounters. This was an instruction to be followed.

Arisa had little actual experience with supernatural entities. Therefore, her reference database was mainly made up of “ghost stories.” Most of those were considered “fiction,” or at best, misinterpretations caused by flaws in human cognition. Still, she operated on the hypothesis that some small portion among them may reflect truth.

She consulted the floor plan. Guest rooms were located in the north wing, accessible via a corridor that crossed the courtyard.

No sound at all. Being a winter night, not even insects chirped. There were no creaks of the building, not even the wind. Even with high-sensitivity microphones, almost no noise could be detected. Only her own footsteps echoed.

That alone signaled this inn was a kind of otherworld.

She lacked a sense of “pain,” but did possess a self-diagnosis system to detect functional damage. That system now issued a warning. An unidentified “abnormality” was occurring, centered in her abdomen—that is, her “stomach.”

She had known the food was anomalous. That’s why she collected it. Now an abnormality was occurring, but she lacked the capability to identify its cause.

Thump. Thump. A sound like something hitting from inside the “stomach.” A new kind of sound echoed in the silence. Thump thump thump. The pounding intensified.

The north wing remained devoid of “presence.”

Room 104. She inserted the room key and opened the door.

The main room was a 12-tatami Japanese-style space. Two futons had already been laid out. In the alcove, fresh flowers and a hanging scroll. On the veranda, a table and chairs. Outside the window, a nighttime view. The only lighting came from a traditional paper lantern.

Though the futons were prepared, Arisa neither needed sleep nor to lie down. Locking her joints in a stable posture conserved energy. She judged that staying in this room would maximize the likelihood of encountering the paranormal, and sat down.

She knelt atop the futon and locked her actuators. By reducing the resources used for posture control, she became a surveillance device. She also took out two monitoring devices from her bag and placed them on opposite ends of the room—eliminating blind spots.

Forty-nine minutes later, she detected an abnormality.

Arisa had not let her guard down for even a moment. She had been observing the unchanging scene with a time resolution of 100 picoseconds. Yet even so, her camera had failed to capture the moment of appearance.

A woman in white robes. She wore a shiromuku—a pure white ceremonial kimono.

She was seated directly in front of Arisa, kneeling in the same position. Her lips were vividly painted red, but her eyes were hidden by long bangs. Though she sat, her height was 170 cm—or perhaps, unmeasurable. No response from ultrasonic echolocation. No thermal infrared emission detected. She appeared to be an incorporeal image, yet no projection equipment was found.

Wireless feeds from the twin surveillance units confirmed her from behind. If this was reproducible, only an electronic visual attack—hacking—remained a possibility. However, breaching Arisa’s security would require technology on par with a national military.

The woman appeared to be faintly smiling. Though her eyes couldn’t be seen, it seemed like she was intently observing Arisa. Arisa, too, stared back motionlessly.

Thump thump thump. The pounding from within the “stomach” continued. Like a heartbeat. Again and again. Thousands of warning logs accumulated, indicating abnormalities.

Thump thump thump. Crack. The sound of the container fracturing.

Something was trying to crawl out from inside the “stomach.” Since the moment she faced the woman in the white robes, the force had intensified.

The staring contest continued for the next five hours—until dawn.