When people are in a bad mood, they tend to walk while looking down at the ground.
It’s a little less common now thanks to smartphones, but in the past, it was something everyone had probably experienced at least once.
And so, everyone must have, at least once, absentmindedly yet attentively looked at this thing on the sidewalk or street.
A manhole.
That gray circle you’d see here and there along the roadside when nothing else was going on.
A maintenance passage through which workers could access underground water pipes.
Everyone knew that.
So at least once, they must have looked at that round gray manhole cover and imagined it.
Someone suddenly coming out from underneath.
Of course, it wasn’t something one could easily encounter in real life.
To begin with, those covers weren’t something anyone could lift easily. Most of them weighed over 100 kilograms.
So usually, it was something that remained purely in the realm of imagination…
‘When something you’ve casually imagined in everyday life actually happens in reality.’
In that moment, people couldn’t help but grow curious and focus their attention.
The ghost story I was searching for began from there.
“……”
I lifted my head.
It was a dark alley.
Laughter, shouting, and music blared from nearby. The flashing lights and noise sounded close enough that I’d probably hear them clearly if I just turned the corner.
A sleepless entertainment district.
But here, in this shadowed, stagnant alley, a damp silence hung in the air.
Location of occurrence : Concrete ground near nightlife districts late at night, such as places swarming with crowds intoxicated by the excitement of bars, clubs, and college towns.
And a single streetlight lit up the dirty concrete floor of the alley.
The manhole cover was there.
In the center of that dim pool of light, just sitting there as casually as any other piece of the city’s pavement, was the manhole. However, something was strange about it.
It was slightly ajar, and protruding from it was…
A human hand.
“……”
Inexplicably, an arm had slipped out through the slightly displaced manhole cover.
Five pale fingers dangled under the streetlight, gently swaying.
As though asking for help.
Previously reported arm appearances :
An elementary schooler’s hand with nail art; a sanitation worker’s uniform; a knitted sleeve; an old-style student uniform; a business suit; a military uniform from of the ■■ division; a wart-covered elderly hand; a ■■■ fingernail-less hand covered in ■■■ tattoos.
Ordinarily, it was such an unnatural sight that people either screamed, froze, or reported it to someone.
‘But if they were drunk or swept up in the atmosphere, they might just approach without thinking.’
That was exactly what this ghost story was aiming for. To lure people in.
“……”
I slowly approached the arm sticking out of the manhole.
The fingers quivered slightly.
One step. Then another. And when there was about one body-length of distance left between us—
“Huu.”
I turned around.
Then I rummaged through the backpack I was wearing, reached into a packet of salt I had brought with me, and grabbed a handful.
I threw it over my left shoulder, straight toward the manhole.
KIIIIIIIEEEEK!!
A screech erupted behind me. It was such a thunderous sound one would never believe was caused by just a bit of salt.
Then came a stench, as if something rotten was burning.
‘Ugh…’
Smoke billowed up and rolled in.
But I never turned to look back.
If I just stood still right where I was…
Before long, both the sound and the stench disappeared completely.
“……”
Only then did I turn my head.
The arm was gone.
All that remained was the dark manhole, faintly illuminated by the streetlight.
And, just slightly, the cover was ajar.
‘…Alright.’
Once the ‘arm’ is driven out using a salt offering, the manhole becomes temporarily accessible.
I stuffed salt into both side pockets and approached the manhole. The raised pattern and lettering on the manhole cover, lit by the streetlight, gradually became clearer.
Usually, the outer ring of a manhole cover displayed its purpose and destination, while the center showed the logo of the managing agency.
This manhole cover was no different. Looking closely, I could identify both its “destination” and its ‘managing authority’…
Hell
鬼鬼鬼鬼鬼
This didn’t lead to a sewerage.
It was an entrance to something else, somewhere else.
“…Ha.”
I grabbed the lid with trembling hands and pushed.
It was heavy.
But slowly, the black manhole cover began to slide aside, revealing the pitch-dark hole beneath it…
Thunk.
Nothing could be seen below.
A deeply unpleasant void.
“……”
I double-checked that I had my gloves, mask, and hat on properly. Then, after sprinkling salt all over my body, I stepped down onto the ladder.
Tak. Ta-tak.
I grew more distant from the noise above.
Light and any sign of life faded away.
Downward. Even further down.
Alone.
‘…Maybe it’s scarier because I’m alone.’
A chill ran down my spine, but I grit my teeth and kept going.
I was the same person who had survived four whole days inside that insane supermarket just a few days ago…!
‘I can do this.’
Clenching my jaw, I kept moving downward.
After several dozen seconds, by the time one of my gloved hands was slick with sweat…
Splosh.
My feet touched the ground.
I ignored the disgusting, squelching texture as much as possible and moved mechanically.
What lay ahead was a cramped, dark sewer where I couldn’t even fully straighten my body.
Strangely, there was no light, and yet the gloomy passageway was clearly visible.
‘This is seriously insane.’
Enduring the spine-prickling silence, the darkness, and the chilling stench, I pressed deeper in.
To a place so cut off that neither phone signals nor cameras would work…
And then, at some point.
‘……There it is.’
I finally found it.