【Japanese Horror】The Digital Priestess — Episode 20: For Those Who Refuse | Haunted Kaidan Tales

A shrine maiden stands beneath a torii gate surrounded by glowing lanterns and mist — key visual for the horror series The Digital Priestess by Haunted Kaidan Tales.
The Digital Priestess: For Those Who Refuse

Watch the Full Episode

Watch the horror story with narration and sound on YouTube.

Episode 20 – “For Those Who Refuse” (Full Text)

Prefer reading? Here’s the complete text of Episode20 .


The Digital Priestess — Episode 20: For Those Who Refuse

That morning, Kenichi woke up feeling off.
His body felt light, but there was a strange unease in his chest.
He had a feeling he’d dreamed, but couldn’t remember anything.

(…What is this feeling?)

When he checked his phone, there were no notifications from Miko Weather.
Just the red torii gate icon, sitting silently.

He headed to university as usual.
But the moment he opened the classroom door, something felt wrong.

(…Something’s off.)

Even after sitting down, even as class began, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
It felt like something was missing—but he couldn’t say what.

During break, he pulled out his notebook.
As he flipped through the pages, one scribbled note caught his eye.

“Yuu…”

The rest was unreadable.
The letters trailed off, written with a force that nearly tore the page.

(…Yuu?)

The moment he said the name aloud, a sharp pain stabbed through his head.

(…Who was that…? Yuu…to?)

He remembered talking to someone—asking for help.
It was just yesterday.
He’d shown them his phone, asked them to install the app—

(…Who was it?)

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember their face.
Not their voice, not their personality—nothing.
Only a blank space stretched across his memory.

“Hey, Kenichi, you okay? You look pale.”

A classmate’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“…Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.”

He laughed it off, but the unease in his chest didn’t go away.

(…I did talk to someone. I know I did.)

But who?

After class, Kenichi looked at his notebook again.
That single, fragmented word—“Yuu.”
Just that. And yet, it was clearly a trace.

(…I asked someone for help. I’m sure of it.)

But there was no proof.
No message history.
No call logs.
Not even a contact named “Yuto” in his phone.

(…But I talked to someone. They listened. They installed the app…)

The moment that thought surfaced, a sharp pain struck his temple.
His thoughts fractured, like something inside was trying to block him.

(…I can’t remember. But I know they existed.)

Kenichi slowly pulled out his phone and stared at the screen.

The Miko Weather icon was there, just like always—
its red torii gate unchanged.
As if nothing had happened.

(…Tanaka’s price was Mom.
So then… that guy—)

The name wouldn’t come.
But he remembered seeing “something.”
And then—nothing more.

(…He didn’t choose. And because of that…)

—He couldn’t pay the price. So he disappeared?

That possibility chilled him to the core.

The app was designed to make you choose.
And in return, something was given—and something taken away.

But maybe, for those who refused to choose,
something even crueler awaited them.

(…Then what about me?)

The next time I’m asked for something—
will I choose again?

Will I sacrifice someone to save another?

Or…

Will I hesitate—
and disappear too?

Kenichi looked down.
His hands were trembling.

Next Episode

New episode drops on Tuesday June 24.

📖 View All Episodes

👉 See all episodes of The Digital Priestess

About & Follow

The Digital Priestess is an original Japanese horror story about a mysterious app that starts off as a weather forecast — but soon, things go very wrong.
What would you choose?

If you felt something… or noticed something, we’d be grateful if you quietly left a comment below.

Click here to leave a comment!

This story was brought to you by Haunted Kaidan Tales.
Welcome to a world of Japanese ghost stories and eerie folklore.
Feel free to explore more chilling tales at your own pace.
Some stories were meant to be forgotten—
and yet, they still whisper to those who listen…