Chapter 1 – A Novel Experience

Alternate Earth – Japan Daytime

 

Being an American in Japan, has been an interesting experience. I’ve worked here for about a year. As I’m riding my bike to a Japanese realtor’s office, I recall the struggles I endured landing a job as a remote business administrator. Late hours, overbearing bosses, annoying co-workers, and unreasonable clients. I spent five long years dealing with every kind of nonsense in corporate America.

 

However, due to that hard work, I got the chance to work remotely. The majority of my company’s clients are in Asia or Russia, which allowed me to move to Japan without much change to my sleep or work schedule. Coming out of that kind of high intensity, long hours atmosphere to Japan, I realized that it’s similar here as well. Nevertheless, it’s awesome to have the chance to work and live wherever I want.

 

What doesn’t help, is that all the apartments in Japan are small. Everything is smaller in Japan. I’m taller than most people and bigger in general. How can a man, pampered by the spacious apartments in America get used to smaller, delicate, basement-less, apartments? It’s difficult and expensive. At this point, I might as well buy a house. I’m currently in an apartment in the suburbs, a slow-paced pleasant place with nice neighbors.

 

            I’m the only foreigner in town and a tall black man, at that. I also don’t like socializing with my neighbors. Unfortunately, this means the neighbors are always checking up on me, assuming that my Japanese is bad. Additionally, the kids have recently started to make a game of pointing at me in shock, calling me “The Gaijin (Foreigner).” Occasionally I do indulge them, by saying things like “Kuh! Your eyes are sharper than most. Normal humans can’t discern this level.” I would like some more privacy.

 

Thus, a house in the countryside, far away from people, is what I will need to achieve the level of privacy I want. Houses are typically built differently in Japan. They are structurally thin and can’t stand a reasonable punch or kick, without the walls coming down. Houses are not meant to last very long here; they’re to be knocked down, not renovated. This is due to the regular earthquakes and natural disasters that plague the island nation.

 

I want the following from my future home: A country house that is spacious, not expensive, but is able to withstand natural disasters. Access to a strong internet connection is a top priority. There are a few other normal requirements as well, but those were the differentiating ones. I wasn’t sure how this would be received, but I’ve been to several agencies with some varying results. I’ve found a few homes that seem okay and fit a few of my requirements.

 

Fortunately, the amount of money I’ve saved to buy a home outright is quite large, but each home they showed me is a tiny bit above what is fair for the homes. They also don’t fit all the requirements. While I’m keeping them on the table, I want to make sure that I check my options. Luckily, the homes don’t seem to be getting sold anytime soon.

 

 

This is my third to last stop, before I give in. I don’t have a vehicle, since I don’t really need to drive that much due to working from home. Typically, I bike to wherever I need, which fits my needs. I have more than enough to afford a nice car, but I like to economize where I can. It’s not because I refuse to pay the ultra-greedy landlord’s car lot fee. Not at all.

 

The agency I’m visiting caters mainly to foreigners and is setup like an American real estate agency. They’ve had numerous positive reviews, and even my neighbors have said great things about them. It may be wrong to get my hopes up, but I’m looking forward to better choices.

 

As I sit deep in thought, one of the agents peeks their head out the door, calling me in. After what feels like a blur of efficiency, I manage to sit down with one of the main agents. James, a sharp looking Japanese man with broad shoulders, sits across from me.

 

“Well, Dominik, we have a few options available for you. After we go over some of these homes, I’d love for you to check out them out with me later” he states in a strong, English voice.

 

I review the material he brought, and he follows through on his presentation, but honestly I’m disappointed.  They are better than the homes I had visited before, but still missing various key aspects.

Almost as if he can hear my thoughts, he pauses in his presentation. “I apologize if this wasn’t exactly what you are looking for.  The requirements are a bit harder to meet than we thought” he carefully adds.

 

“I thi....” the realtor begins to say, but pauses briefly. 

 

Muttering softly, I vaguely hear “Maybe…jiko bukken.”

He suddenly turns away for a moment, searching his drawers for something. He appears desperate to find it.

 

Before I can react to his strange actions, he quickly stands up and yells, “Please excuse me for a moment.”

 I’m a bit jarred, by the speed of his movement. Sprinting out of the room, his coat almost gets snagged on the doorknob.  From the interior window, I see the start of a frenzy with all the staff as they run back and forth. All of them are searching for the thing the main agent was looking for. Finally, a cry of success followed by a tiny cheer.

 

However, quickly things get shushed. With a straightened jacket and high stride, the agent returns to the room with a document and what appears to be a DVD.  I glance out the window and see a few people duck their head, attempting to not be seen. This is too suspicious. My curiosity is getting the better of me. What could make everyone so excited and send the whole office into such a mess?

 

Nonchalantly, the agent shows me pictures and an amazing video of an enormous concrete house…no, mansion that is highly reinforced against earthquakes. Just from the size of the property, side towers, and main area, it is easy to imagine there being hundreds, even a thousand rooms. The video contains strangely edited interviews of inspectors and government personnel speaking positively about the home and the potential benefits of living there.

One interviewee even says, “Just standing in the house, I feel electrified!”

 

The mansion appears to be located away from other homes and is an awesome place to work remotely due to a solid internet connection and quiet atmosphere. It has absolutely no animals in the area, and even an excessive amount of home inspections was made confirming the home is in good condition. There has been no crime recorded in the area for over a decade.

 

Surrounded by a large man-made forest with space for farming and an abundance of carefully stored seeds and plants, it is the perfect place to start a home farm. It has satellite internet and emergency ham radios, albeit older versions. It even has its own self-sustaining power grid, rainwater, and heating grid. For some reason, in the backyard area there is a massive weapon and armor forge! The deceased last owner was a crazy survival maniac and military otaku. Which is somewhat plausible, considering the amount of stuff there.

 

Like most sane people, my first thought is that this is bullshit, and I must be on a strange game show. After confirming with them several times that this is not the case, I slowly take this house offer seriously There is no way this place can be cheap. I’m pretty sure there isn’t anything structurally wrong with it, with the numerous credentials behind this agency and the references given for the home’s integrity. So, in the end, it’s down to the price and the catch.

 

As I skeptically look at the realtor, he sighs and then shows me the price. The price was extremely low. I really want to ask why, but I’m terrified to know.

Seeing my expression, he appears slightly guilty and straightens up, which catches my attention. “I must notify you, that this is a mansion regarded as a jiko bukken or as said in English, a stigmatized home” he cautiously explains. “Typically, this means that something horrific has happened in the home in the past ten years that requires us to notify a buyer of the situation. Additionally, most Japanese buyers do not want to purchase a home that has had such occurrences in them. This leads to a large decrease in the price.

            “Thus, we typically offer them to foreigners who don’t worry about such things.” Looking around and leaning in, he then whispers seriously, “This home is the exception to that rule.”

 

He continues, “This home has had such a horrific incident, that we have been unable to sell this to anyone. It is most definitely haunted. Most foreigners that hear what happened immediately decline. If you want to know, I am legally obligated to tell you. However, I highly recommend not knowing, if you want to eventually live there. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.”

 

“The only reason I’m even showing you this home, is because it fits every single one of your requirements, and then some.” he quickly offers, as I start to automatically decline the offer.

Considering his words, I force myself to review the home’s properties and how much the low, low price affects my concerns. This mansion is crazy cheap. It has everything I could ever want. For some reason, I feel a deep inner pull towards the mansion and the positive effect on my budget. I’ve recently gotten over my fear of haunted mansions and even am now able to attend haunted tours. With the pictures and video of the mansion, it doesn’t look nearly as bad as those. Maybe this won’t be that bad of a choice.

 

Hesitantly, I suggest, “Maybe we can look into this...”

 

Instantly, a massive cheer rises in the office. Other realtors pop a cork on a bottle, making excited calls. A few of the office beauties I saw on the way in rush into the room and start hanging on my side, speaking excitedly to me. They grab a glass of wine and talk more and more. The agent slowly gets up and goes into another room.

 

The girls and me have a great time and get to know each other, with them intensely flirting. I’m a bit flustered. Eventually, they bring over an unusually lengthy contract that requires multiple signatures of “good faith” in red lettering. In a good mood from the festivities, I sign the papers and pay for the mansion upfront. Woo, I acquired my first house!

 

Wait a second.

 

I realize after everything has already been processed and confirmed, that I never even visited the home. I even dropped a decent amount of cash on it. Oh, no. A group of older agents are heading my way with an extremely expensive looking bottle. An older gentleman with the bottle approaches me with a serious look in his eyes. Everyone is silent, and the ladies step back nervously, into the crowd. I am doubting my decision.

 

He extends the bottle to me silently, and I slowly receive it with both hands as tears fill his eyes. He puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “Good luck” in English. He then turns and raises his hands in victory. The crowd cheers.

 

 

 

As a courtesy, the group sent their newest realtor with me to conduct a “housewarming” session. When I asked if the realtor that had sold the mansion to me would be there, they broke out in a sweat and changed the subject. As we left the building, I thought I saw the agent I originally spoke to looking depressed and drinking heavily in a corner. Also, on the corner was a nice police officer, with kind eyes. When I tried to walk over to the police officer, the new realtor skillfully engaged me in conversation about the home and led me by the shoulder in the opposite direction. Although, suspicious, I’m convinced that I came out on top with this deal.

 

 

I managed to obtain all my requirements, plus some cool additions. For what was essentially worth seventy-five to one hundred Kobe steak dinners! An insanely cheap price for an average home in America. In Japan, this is an impossible price, especially for a large home with additional land. The only caveat is the potential haunting. I tell myself, “I’m sure it will be fine.” However, everyone keeps giving me pitying looks and saying “it can’t be helped” after the celebration. I’m not worried.

 

 

 

As we drive over to the mansion in the young realtor’s car, with my bicycle on the top, I check out my appearance in the mirror. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a semi attractive face. Slightly chubby. With all the stress eating from work, it’s surprising that I’m not worse than this. Sigh. After about an hour of driving, it looks like we are finally getting close. We travel down a small, winding car path into a dense forested area. The realtor cautiously drives for about five minutes through the wooded area until we pull into a clearing, revealing the mansion. There is only one word to describe the mansion; chilling.

A tall mansion-like home, clearly made out concrete, steel, and other strong materials emerges. Mists obscure the area, making the mansion look transient and ethereal, almost like a hidden giant, waiting for its prey.

 

 When we first arrived, it was sunny and hot. There were no mists, and the mansion looked normal! The shutters on the upper windows swing open and violently shut. I’m almost prepared to hear the Silent Hill soundtrack start playing in the background as we stand here.

 

Without a doubt, this looks like a haunted mansion many times scarier than any other “haunted house” I’ve experienced. I understand why they sold this mansion at such a low price. I am the type of person that until recently was unable to go into haunted houses. What a great time to have overcome my fears and then negatively reinforce them with real life experiences.

 

While rubbing my eyes in astonishment, the mansion slowly appears normal. The shutters stop slamming, the mists float away, and the path to the door becomes apparent. Upon closer inspection, the mansion itself seems to decrease in size.

 

I look to the realtor and follow their eyes to the door. He audibly gulps. Is that fear? It’s fear! As the mansion began to appear normal, the pressure of the home is diminishing on myself. In fact, the home seems almost welcoming now. Is the mansion treating me differently? My mind races, and I wonder how to get out of this contract.

 

The realtor reads my mind, looks me straight in the eyes, “No refunds.”

 

This may have been a mistake.

 

Getting out of the car, we set the bike on the ground and stare at the mansion for a bit. The realtor breaks first.

 

“We should go in. Welcome to your new house, and I’d love to show you around.” he states with the least confident voice I’ve heard yet. At this point, what else do I have to lose? Wait. I have quite a bit to lose. Like my life.

 

Nonetheless, he convinces me to go into the mansion with him. It ends up appearing quite normal inside. It shows itself to be an extremely well-made home. This mansion is built more solidly than even typical American homes. The realtor slowly relaxes and expounds on the different features. It turning into a normal mansion showing. Except, I’ve already bought the home.

 

 With the size of the house, it’s easy to imagine a hundred or more people living here comfortably, instead of just one. I heard that the house’s architect lived here alone. I’m curious as to why they would make such a large home, only to live alone in it.

 

Since everything appears normal, the realtor continues to go through the walkthrough and as he does, we can hear a moving crew arrive with my stuff, and it sounds like they leave it somewhere near the front of the house. There’s not that much, due to my low maintenance lifestyle.

 

After going through a small portion of the main building, we arrive on the third floor in the corner of the mansion. The mansion has been normal, all things considered. It still is slightly creepy though. Peripheral motion, vague figures in windows disappearing, the sound of skittering across the roof and on upper floors.  The realtor is shaking in fear in response to these oddities, but kept walking me through the mansion. Honestly, if it wasn’t for him, I would have left and started a new life somewhere else. Selling the home, myself, and using the money in other ways. However, I must say, the mansion doesn’t seem that scary. Just a bit strange. It’s almost as if whatever is in the mansion, isn’t actually trying to scare us. Hopefully, it could be a friendly ghost. Or I could just be indecisive. That’s always an option.

 

 

By the time we reach this room of the house, it’s easy to see that this is an amazing mansion. With at least three floors, a basement, and so many self-sufficient items, it is a dream home. Additionally, we haven’t even explored a tenth of the property and we’ve been walking around at least hours. Only thing is, I’m not sure I can live in this house alone. Once we reach the third floor, at the last door in the house, the realtor stops suddenly in fear. To reach it, there is a long hallway with a wooden door at the end. The door has a lock on the outside, probably to keep something in. The lights are a tad bit dimmer here. This is a good opportunity to play a tiny prank on the realtor.

 

With a shaking voice, the realtor questions, “You shouldn’t need to check out the last room, right?”

Using the golden opportunity, he granted me, I look at him incredulously. “Of course, I need to check it out, I need to know the spacing for my office setup. I mean you have promised to show me the entire house.”

 

I’m just messing with him because I can’t help but feel that this is a huge prank. Additionally, I’m probably not going to use this room for my office. I’m simply curious. Why is this house not being more overt in scaring us away, like when we first arrived? I’m planning on totally running with it. As I step towards the hallway, and the lights dim slightly. The realtor hides behind me, visibly shivering. Acting obliviously, I take another large step. Again, they dim further.

 

“Wait wait wait! You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the change in lighting?! This isn’t natural!” he exclaims in a clear panic.

 

I stop and turn to him, “Are you alright? You’ve been acting strangely this whole time. I haven’t seen anything too weird, it’s probably just some faulty wiring.”

 

I may have discovered an unfortunate aspect of my personality. This is a bit too fun.

 

He desperately retorts, “There’s no way that’s the case! We’ve had multiple inspectors here, that have made sure everything is working properly.” Further, he implores “Say, can’t we just come back later? With more people. I’ll even pay for a hotel for you to sleep in until we exorcise this house.”

 

This is a really good guy. He didn’t even have to walk me through this house and could have left me to deal with it alone. Now he is even offering to pay for an exorcist and a place to stay in the interim. You know that the agency wouldn’t help with that, so it would probably all be placed on him. Maybe I should turn back? I kind of feel bad about pushing him to this point. While internally monologuing, I’ve inched he and I closer to the door. It’s unexplainably seems dark now. We finally reach the door.

 

 

“Maybe you’re right, let me just try to open this door and get a look.” I tell him honestly. “We’ll leave right after, I promise.”

I’m only a little curious. So, if I sense that this will be dangerous for us, we’re going to leave. Though I’m ninety percent sure this is some elaborate prank. Why would the group send the greenest person out with a buyer, for a house like this? I purposely reach for the door. Weirdly, the dark lights brighten.

 

Now this form of lighting change is a little scary. To test, I look back at the realtor and slowly move my hand away from the door. Yep. Nope. It’s darkening again. Reaching for the door, the lights begin to brighten. I pause. Lights stop. Moves my hand away, darken. Hand closer, brighten.

 

At this point, I can’t help but look at the realtor and straightforwardly ask, “Is this a prank?”

The realtor slowly shakes his head, pale faced. He begins walking backwards slowly. Locking eyes with the realtor, we finally nod in non-verbal agreement. Not a prank, it’s probably time to go. I feel a deep connection with him. Almost like we are coming up with a plan together, without saying a word to each other. With a nod, I move on our mutual plan. I slowly reach for the door again, the air vibrating in excitement; the lights dimming, and the realtors mouth widening in fright. “What are you doing? Stop!” he yells frantically.

 

            I casually click the lock on the door and sprint away. Almost everything pauses in shock, the air included. The sounds of my footsteps clunking away resound throughout the house.

 

“What are you doing? Run while you can!” I holler behind me, while sprinting away.

 

The lights then turn red and there is loud banging on the door. A low-pitched wailing thrums throughout the home.