“All we need to do is debunk all the fake ones we know and that prize money is ours. I already know what I’ll be doing with my share of the money.”
Dan said it casually, but the tone didn’t convince anyone. Dennis and Phil exchanged glances and nodded. A week ago, each of them had received an anonymous invitation. A message, a link, a promise: complete a series of tasks online and receive cash. Most people would have deleted it. But this wasn’t just any website. This was ‘lingetsit.jzt.’ A platform whispered about online, a myth because no one had ever been able to access it twice. Yet here they were, logged in. The instructions appeared.
Debunk five Japanese urban legends.
Stream everything live.
Prize: ¥75,000.
Task One: Kisaragi Station
The legend told of a phantom station on a remote line. Anyone who stopped there could never return. They arrived after midnight, the tracks slick with mist. Trains passed silently. No platforms appeared where they shouldn’t, no staff, no signs. Only empty rails stretching into the fog. Dan moved the camera, showing nothing but black tracks and distant lights. The overlay stamped FALSE.
Task Two: The Red Room
A cursed pop-up said to appear on a computer, promising death if ignored. They used an old laptop and shared their screen. Nothing appeared. The browser froze once, then recovered. No text, no red room, no threats. Phil exhaled in relief, though the hairs on his neck remained rigid. The overlay stamped FALSE.
Task Three: Inunaki Village
A village supposedly outside Japanese law, unreachable by GPS. They drove to the tunnel rumored to lead there. Fog thickened unnaturally, and for a few seconds, GPS readings jumped and failed. A faint sound hissed through the car radio. Whispers, overlapping voices, impossible to decipher. Phil shivered while declaring it’s broadcast interference. But the unease in his voice betrayed him. FALSE or at least, they weren’t allowed to confirm it.
Task Four: Hitobashira
The old practice of human pillars buried alive in construction to appease spirits. They entered an abandoned dam site. Cold concrete walls, water dripping from above, no remains, no chanting. Dennis ran his hand along the wall; it was solid, heavy, unyielding. Phil frowned, noticing a pressure that seemed to press on his chest like the weight of the building itself. FALSE.
Task Five: Yamanoke
No location. No description. Only a webcam turned on automatically. Their faces appeared, slightly delayed. Phil waved. The reflection waved back, late. Dennis whispered.
“It… isn’t us.”
Dan leaned forward.
“Did we even start this one?”
The timer appeared. Already running. The delay shrank. Then vanished entirely. The reflections began to move independently. Smiles, unnatural, formed on faces that weren’t smiling. Their own mouths remained frozen. The room grew colder. The air thickened. A pressure behind their eyes, as if something unseen was pressing inward.
They tried to shut off the stream. The laptop ignored commands. The camera refused to turn off. A slow exhale came from the speakers. The reflections stepped forward, unnaturally synchronized, staring. Not human. Not fully themselves. The screen went black. The stream status confirmed TRUE before it ended.
Phones buzzed everywhere. Cameras switched on across homes, offices, classrooms. Thousands of people caught the briefest glimpse of something that looked exactly like them, staring back, waiting. And then it was gone. The prize? Irrelevant. The site? Closed. The watchers? Marked by their IP addresses.
No one spoke afterward. No one could explain. And somewhere far from the field, far from the dam, far from the city, something practiced being human.
