What They Chose Not to See

The first time Michael Steward saw the woman, she was standing on the opposite side of the street in Seoul. It had turned 1:13 a.m. Rain had turned the pavement in Hongdae into a sheet of black glass, reflecting neon signs in broken colours. Michael stood beneath the narrow roof of the convenience store, holding a cup of coffee that had already gotten cold. The woman stood beneath a dead streetlamp. She wore a pale red coat. She wasn’t holding an umbrella. She was staring directly at him. Michael blinked. A car passed between them. When it was gone, the woman had disappeared. He told himself that he had imagined her. That was the first lie. Michael had been living in Seoul for seven months, working remotely as a graphic designer while finishing a novel he could not complete for years. His small hotel was in Mapo-gu on the ninth floor of an old building. The neighbours were quiet. Almost unnaturally quiet. There was an elderly Korean man in Room no 768 who never spoke to anyone. A young couple lived in 763. And 765 was supposedly empty. But every night at 1.13 am Micheal heard three knocks on the wall. Knock, knock, knock. The first week, he ignored them. The second week, he mentioned it to his landlady. The landlady frowned. Room 765 has been empty for years. Then who is knocking? The landlady smiled awkwardly. Old buildings make sounds. Michael nodded. But he didn’t believe her. Three nights later, he saw the woman again. This time she was standing at the end of his corridor. Michael froze. The corridor light flickered over her. Excuse me. The woman didn’t move. Her face was pale. There was something dark beneath her left eye. A bruise. Michael stepped closer. She whispered something. He couldn’t hear. What? Her lips moved again. Then the light went out. When the light came back on, she was gone. Michael stood alone in the corridor. His heart was beating too quickly. Then he noticed something on the floor. A small silver key. He picked it up. Engraved on it were three numbers. 765. The next morning, Michael asked an older man from 768 about room 765. The old man stared at him. Don’t ask about that room. Why? Because doors should remain closed. Michael almost laughed. Instead, he asked, “Was someone murdered there”? Then the man’s expression changed. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he whispered. A woman disappeared. When? Three years ago. Who was she? The old man looked at the empty room. Her name was Han-Seo-Yeon. Michael felt cold. Did the police find her? No. Then how do you know that she disappeared? The old man’s eyes met his. Because I heard her screaming. That night, Michael couldn’t sleep. At 1.30 am, the three knocks came again. Knock. Knock. Knock. He stared at the wall. Then came another sound. A woman’s voice. Very faint. Help me. Michael grabbed his phone. He stepped into the corridor. Room 765 stood at the end. The silver key trembled in his hand. He inserted it into the lock. The door opened. Dust filled the air. The room was empty. No furniture. No curtains. No photographs. Nothing. Michael stepped inside. Then he noticed the wall. Hundreds of tiny scratches covered it. Most were barely visible. But one word had been carved repeatedly into the plaster. Lock. He moved closer. Underneath it was another word. Below. Michael looked down. The floorboards. One of them was loose. He pulled it up. Inside was a small black notebook. The notebook belonged to Seo-Yeon. Michael read it under the light of his phone. Most pages contained ordinary diary entries. Then the writing changed. They knew I was seeing it. Everyone in this building sees it. But they pretend they don’t. Another page. There was a man who came here every night. Another. He doesn’t have a face. Michael stopped. He turned the page. A rough drawing filled it. A tall human figure. No eyes. No mouth. No nose. Just a blank oval where the face should have been. Beneath the drawing, Seo-Yeon had written. He stands behind the people. But nobody looks. Michael’s phone suddenly went black. He heard breathing. Behind him. Slow. Heavy. He didn’t turn around. The breathing stopped. Then three knocks came from inside the wall. Knock. Knock. Knock. Michael ran. The next morning he went to the police station. He showed them the notebook. The officer looked through it. You found this in 765. Yes. The officer sighed. There is nothing we can do. But this belonged to a missing woman. There was an investigation three years ago. And. She left voluntarily. Michael stared at him. She left without her belongings. The officer didn’t answer. Without her passport. Silence. Without telling anyone. The officer closed the notebook. Mr Steward, some people disappear because they want to disappear. Michael left. Outside the station, he noticed something strange. A woman stood across the road. Pale blue coat. A bruise beneath her eye. Seo-Yeon. She raised one hand. Then pointed behind him. Michael turned. Nothing. When he looked back, she was gone. That evening, Michael returned to his hotel. The elderly man from 768 was waiting outside. You went to the police. Michael nodded. The old man looked frightened. You should not have. Tell me the truth. I already told you. No, you told me what everyone agrees to say. The old man’s hand began shaking. Finally, he whispered. Seo-Yeon discovered something. What. She discovered that the hotel manager had been secretly entering the hotel rooms. Why. To steal from people. That doesn’t explain her disappearance. No. The old man looked towards room 765. She caught him killing someone. Michael found his stomach tightening. Who. The old man closed his eyes. Seo-yeon. A sound came from the corridor. Three knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. The old man whispered Don’t look. Michael turned anyway. At the far end of the corridor stood the faceless man from Seo-Yeon's drawing. Tall. Motionless. Watching them. Michael couldn’t breathe. The old man covered his eyes. You see him, he whispered. What is he? The old man shook his head. He isn’t the thing you should be afraid of. What? The people who pretend he isn’t there. The light went out. A scream echoed through the corridor. When they returned, the old man was gone. Only his slippers remained. Michael ran to room 765. Inside the room, he found one last page hidden beneath the floor. Seo-Yeon's handwriting covered it. If you are reading this, you can see him. That means you are next. Below it was a final sentence. They don’t kill the people who see him. They make everyone believe those people were never there. Michael’s blood turned cold. He heard footsteps behind him. He turned. The faceless figure stood in the doorway. But this time, it wasn’t alone. Behind it stood the manager. The police officer. An older adult man. The young couple from 763. All of them stared at Michael. None of them had faces. Michael stumbled backward. The woman in the blue coat appeared beside him. For the first time, he heard her clearly. Run. The next morning, Michael woke up in his own room. Sunlight streamed through the curtain. The hotel manager was standing beside him. You fell asleep at your desk, he said. Michael looked around. Everything seemed normal. He rushed into the corridor. Room 765 was gone. In its place was a clean white wall. Where is 765? The manager stared at him strangely. There has never been a room 765. Michael felt dizzy. He ran downstairs. Outside, Seoul moved around him as usual. Cars. People, Rain. Neon. He reached for his phone. There were dozens of messages from his friends. One message stopped him. It was from an unknown number. Look behind you. Michael slowly turned. Across the street stood the woman in the blue coat. She smiled. Then she pointed towards the crowd. Michael looked. Everyone was walking normally. Everyone except one. A tall man standing perfectly still. No face. Michael looked at the people around him. Nobody reacted. Nobody screamed. Nobody even glanced at him. And suddenly Michael understood. The terrifying thing was not that he could see what others couldn’t. It was that they could see it too. They had simply chosen not to. And now they were choosing not to see him. The woman in the blue coat disappeared into the crowd. Michael tried to call for help. No sound came out. People walked past him without looking. As if he had never existed. At exactly 1.13 pm his phone rang. Three knocks came from somewhere behind him. Knock. Knock/ Knock. And then a voice whispered in his ear. Welcome to 765. There had never been a room 765. At least that was what everyone agreed to say.