The Nonexistent Floor
The new email also came with a photograph attached.
Lee Do clicked it open.
It showed the interior of an elevator. On the digital floor indicator above the door, a single red number glowed against the dark panel:
The bottom of the frame captured a portion of the button console. Floors 1 through 5. 10. 15. 17. That was the end of the line. There was no 18th floor, let alone a 19th.
Lee Do scrutinized the image all the way to the cropped edges of the panel. He couldn't spot any obvious telltales of digital manipulation, not that anyone could definitively judge authenticity from a single compressed JPEG anyway.
"Is this staged?"
He reread the message. Aside from stating that the floor number had changed, the sender offered no explanation whatsoever.
Lee Do typed out a reply.
The moment he clicked send, he froze. He stared at his own sentence on the monitor.
"Wait, what am I doing?"
Yesterday, he had explicitly told himself he wasn't going. Yet here he was, asking for the address before anything else.
"Not that I'm actually going," he muttered to the empty room. "I just need to know where it is, that's all."
A few moments later, a reply landed in his inbox containing the address: the apartment complex name, the building number, and the exact street address.
Lee Do plugged it into a map search.
"It's close."
About twenty minutes by car. That was actually worse. If it had been two hours away, laziness would have won out and he never would have bothered. Twenty minutes was dangerously accessible.
At the bottom of the reply, the sender had added one more line.
"Why?"
Lee Do scrolled down. The informant had appended an explanation right underneath.
That's when it starts happening.
Lee Do leaned back into his chair and checked his phone. 4:21 PM. There was still plenty of time before his regular stream.
"I'm not going," he said aloud, firmer this time.
There was zero reason to go out of his way. He had the photos, and he had the tip-off; he could simply showcase them on stream, talk about them for a bit, and call it a day. The convenience store. The laundromat. The lighter. He had experienced more than enough.
"I'm seriously not going this time."
9:03 PM. Stream start.
The viewer count sat at 1,103 and was climbing steadily.
"Good evening, everyone."
— sup
— Demon King sup
— IRL broadcast today?
— Going to the elevator?
— 19th floor whoa
— Did another email come in?
— Did you get in touch with the informant?
Lee Do glanced back and forth between his email inbox and the chat window.
"Wait, how do you guys even know about that?"
— We saw it on yesterday's stream
— 18th floor
— Didn't you say it was the 19th floor yesterday?
"No, how do you know another email came in today?"
The scrolling chat paused for a beat.
— ?
— What are you talking about?
— Didn't you mention it?
— It's on the community board
— The informant posted about it
"Ah."
Lee Do brought up the community forum. Sure enough, a thread had been pinned right near the top.
For the past few days, the elevator in my apartment complex has been stopping on floors that don't exist. At first, it was the 18th floor. Yesterday, it was the 19th floor.
[Attached: 2 Images]
"The guy posted it himself."
The post's contents were straightforward. A few days ago, the apartment elevator began stopping on nonexistent floors: first the 18th, yesterday the 19th, accompanied by two photos. The comment section was predictable.
— Looks photoshopped
— Just ask the management office
— Isn't it just a floor display glitch?
— It's a 17-story building, why would 19 even pop up?
— Demon King deploy!
— Trying to send him off again lmao
— Let the man rest this time
— Ngl I'm curious though
"At least the last two commenters are normal human beings," Lee Do noted with a scoff.
— So are you going?
— Let's gooo
— You said it's 20 minutes away
— Why not go if it's that close?
— Scared?
"Damn right I'm scared."
— Admits it instantly lmaooo
— He doesn't even get tilted anymore
"Think about it from my perspective." Lee Do released his mouse and threw his hands up. "What have I been through these past few days?"
— Convenience store
— Laundromat
— Lighter
— Roommates with a ghost
— Handprint collector
"Minus those last two."
"A human being needs to take a breather." Lee Do pulled up a game on his screen to cut off the conversation. "We're gaming today."
— Awww
— What a shame
— Let's go tomorrow then
— What if the 20th floor pops up today?
— lmaooo
Lee Do paused, pulling his cursor back from the start button.
"...The 20th floor?"
— It's going up one floor every day
— 18, then 19
— If it's today, wouldn't it be 20?
— Simple math lol
"Who guarantees it has to go up one floor every single day?"
— That's true
— Could just be a coincidence
— Probably a broken display
"Right. A malfunction." Lee Do nodded firmly. "The elevator's just on the fritz."
That was the most realistic conclusion.
10:47 PM. Mid-game.
— Behind behind behind
— Heal
— Use your heal
— Demon King please
— Ahhh
"Dude, it was on cooldown!"
— Cooldown my ass
— It was up just a second ago
— Boomer reaction time issue
"I'm in my early thirties!"
— Old
— Fossil
— Boomer
"Yeah, keep talking and I'll ban you."
Buzz.
The smartphone beside his desk lit up, but Lee Do kept his eyes glued to the monitor. "Hold on."
He dodged the boss monster's pattern.
Buzz.
It vibrated again.
"Why does it keep buzzing?"
The match ended. Lee Do picked up his phone. Two new emails had arrived from the same sender.
The first:
The second email contained an attachment.
Lee Do immediately zoomed in on the attached photograph. On the elevator's digital display, a new number burned red:
Chat reacted instantaneously.
— What is it?
— What came in?
— Look at his face lol
— 20?
— No way, the 20th floor?
— For real?
Lee Do shared the image onto his stream monitor. The exact number they had just joked about was captured plainly on screen.
— LMAOOOOOO
— It really is 20
— One floor a day confirmed
— Smells like cap
— You have to go now
— He's going immediately anyway lol
— It's 10:50 PM right now
— He said after 10:30 PM
— The timing is literally perfect?
Lee Do enlarged the photo. 20. It was razor-sharp.
"Wait." Lee Do checked the message text again. "Is this guy inside the elevator?"
He typed that exact question into a reply.
It took only a few seconds for a response to arrive.
"Outside?"
Lee Do typed back: From which floor?
The reply came almost instantly: The 17th floor.
Lee Do checked the photo's indicator again. "He took it from the 17th floor, but the display shows 20?"
Chat echoed the confusion.
— Did only the cab go up?
— Is there even space above 17?
— The machine room?
— Did the rooftop indicator misfire?
— Could be a maintenance floor
Lee Do put forward the most rational possibilities first.
"That could be it. Something like the machine room or the roof."
That made the most sense. Instead of an actual floor, the panel could simply be outputting an internal mechanical diagnostic code by mistake.
— Demon King suddenly an engineer lol
— Look it up
— What's the apartment complex called?
"I'm not revealing the apartment name."
There had to be boundaries. Real residents lived there, and he had no intention of leaking an unverified private address on a live broadcast.
Lee Do fired off another email: Did you ask the management office about this?
The reply took slightly longer this time.
Lee Do leaned forward toward his monitor. What is it?
One minute passed. No reply.
Two minutes.
"Why isn't he sending anything?"
— Call him
— Did the informant dip?
— Cooking up the fake right now lol
— Photoshopping the images
Three minutes. A new message landed containing a single video file.
"A video?"
Lee Do downloaded it. Total length: thirty-two seconds.
"Let's play it."
The player opened to grainy security footage of the 17th-floor elevator vestibule. The resolution was low due to compression. In the top corner, the timestamp ran quietly:
The indicator above the elevator read 17.
Ding.
The doors slid open. No one stepped out. No one stepped in.
The doors slid shut. Then the digital display shifted:
18.
19.
The indicator held on 19 for several seconds. Then, slowly:
18.
17.
Ding.
The doors opened again. The cabin was completely empty.
The video ended.
"That was from yesterday," Lee Do said, eyes locked on the static frame.
— So it really was the 19th floor yesterday
— Why did it go up if nobody got on?
— Did someone call it from above?
— I thought there was no 18th or 19th floor
— Call from the machine room?
— Could just be edited
Lee Do replayed the footage from the beginning. There were no stuttering frames or unnatural cuts, but that wasn't enough to guarantee it was raw, unedited footage.
He sent another message: Is this definitely real CCTV from the management office?
The answer came promptly: Yes. I recorded the management office monitor with my phone. The timestamp matches too.
"What did the management office say about it?"
The reply read: They said there are no error records. The system log says the elevator stopped on the 17th floor the entire time.
"So only the indicator moved?"
— Display glitch?
— That's the most realistic
— Check it in real time
— Is the informant still on the 17th floor?
Lee Do typed: Are you still on the 17th floor right now?
Yes. Right in front of the elevator.
Lee Do paused to think, then typed out a test: Write 'Great Demon King Sejong' on a piece of paper and take a photo of it in front of the elevator.
Less than thirty seconds later, a photo landed in his inbox.
It showed a white sheet of A4 paper with clumsy handwriting:
Behind the paper stood the closed elevator doors, with the red indicator above them reading 17.
Chat noticeably quieted down.
— Oh
— That was fast
— Looks like it really is real-time
— Still could just be a broken display
— If you go there, you'll find out immediately
Lee Do scratched his chin.
"I guess I'd know if I went and saw it for myself."
The words slipped out before he could catch them. The viewers didn't miss a beat.
— LMAOOOOOO
— CAUGHT
— Departure declared
— Didn't you just swear you weren't going?
— He's going after all
— Classic Demon King
— Roll out hahaha
"Wait, hold on." Lee Do held up his palms to the webcam. "I'm not saying I'm going."
— You literally just said you'd know if you went and saw it
— Clipped it
— Too late
"I meant checking in person would be the only way to prove it!"
— That literally means going there
— Happens after 10:30 PM
— It's 11:00 PM right now
— Perfect
Lee Do checked the corner of his screen: 11:01 PM.
Everything was lining up with uncanny precision.
"Haah..."
Lee Do leaned his head against the back of his gaming chair, staring up at the ceiling. After a long silence, he opened his mouth.
"Fine. Just this once."
The chat window cleared out for a split second before exploding.
— LMAOOOO
— HE'S GOING!!!
— IRL BROADCAST ON
— GET IN THERE
— Here we go again tonight
"I'm checking it once, and that's it," Lee Do warned, narrowing his eyes. "The second anything feels off, I'm turning right back around."
— Surrrre
— You said that exact thing last time
— Death flag planted lol
"And another thing." Lee Do pointed directly into the camera lens. "Any bastard who tries to dox the apartment name or pinpoint its location gets an instant permanent ban."
The mood in chat tightened up.
— Got it
— That's fair
— Can't be bothering the residents
— No address sharing
"I'm keeping the informant's face off-camera too." Lee Do pushed his chair back to grab his mobile broadcast equipment. "Give me twenty minutes."
11:28 PM. Underground parking lot of the apartment complex.
Lee Do stepped out of his car. The mobile stream was live, with the camera angled tightly to capture only his face and the asphalt at his feet. License plates and parking space numbers were kept completely out of the frame.
Viewers: 3,842.
— He arrived
— Whoa
— Looks way more ordinary than I expected
— He's really not showing anything else lol
"I told you," Lee Do said quietly, pulling the camera lens closer to his face. "I'm not filming the surrounding buildings."
He reached the elevator lobby and pressed the call button.
Ding.
The doors slid open. A grey floor, a standard interior mirror, and a familiar button console greeted him. There wasn't a single abnormality in sight.
B2. B1. 1. 2. 3. All the way up to 17. That was the end.
"See?" Lee Do pointed the camera at the button console. "It only goes up to the 17th floor."
— It really does
— No 18
— No 20 either
— Just an error after all?
"Let's head to the 17th floor first."
He pressed the button for 17. The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent.
3. 5. 8. 12. 15. 17.
Ding.
The doors parted to reveal the quiet hallway of the 17th floor. A solitary figure was standing directly in front of the elevator.
Lee Do immediately angled the camera down toward the tiles. The figure wore a dark hoodie and a mask, appearing to be a young man in his mid-twenties.
"Great Demon King Sejong?"
"Yes."
"I'm the one who sent the emails."
"Ah." Lee Do stepped out into the hallway. "Hello."
"I honestly didn't think you'd actually come."
"Neither did I."
— LMAOOOOOO
— Informant confirmed real
— His voice is trembling
The young man let out an awkward, nervous chuckle.
"Are you okay with being on stream?" Lee Do asked.
"As long as my face doesn't show, it's fine."
"Understood." Lee Do adjusted the camera angle once more, then turned toward the elevator doors. "So... you're saying this thing suddenly climbs up on its own?"
"Yes."
"Around what time?"
"Usually past 10:30 PM."
"Every day?"
"For the past three days, yes."
"First the 18th."
"Yes."
"Then the 19th."
"Yes."
"And today, the 20th."
The young man nodded heavily. "It went up to 20 earlier tonight."
"I saw the video you sent and read what the management office told you."
The informant shifted his gaze back toward the elevator doors. "The time stamped on that video was 11:14 PM last night, right?"
"Yes."
"And after that?"
"Earlier tonight, when it climbed to the 20th floor, that was the last time."
Just as Lee Do opened his mouth to reply—
Ding.
Both men snapped their heads toward the elevator simultaneously. Neither of them had touched the call button, but the doors slid open smoothly.
The cabin was completely empty. Above the door, the digital indicator glowed:
"Does it usually do this?" Lee Do asked, his voice dropping.
The young man slowly shook his head. "No..."
The elevator doors slid shut. And then the number changed:
The chat window surged without a second's pause.
— It showed up
— 18
— It's real
— It's climbing
19.
The informant took an instinctive step backward.
20.
The indicator stopped climbing. Lee Do stared fixatedly at the glowing crimson digits.
"Twenty."
The number reported earlier tonight. For several agonizing seconds, the indicator remained frozen at 20.
Then the static digits shifted:
A faint, breathless murmur escaped the informant's lips.
"It went up again..."
Lee Do checked the corner of his phone screen: 11:31 PM.
"You said it stopped at the 20th floor earlier."
"Yes."
The indicator began to tick down.
20... 19... 18... 17.
Ding.
The doors slid open, but the interior remained completely devoid of life. Lee Do stared silently into the illuminated cab. The button console was identical, running strictly up to 17.
Then a message flashed across his chat overlay.
Another followed immediately.
Lee Do slowly raised his smartphone camera toward the interior. The large mirror mounted on the back wall of the cabin reflected the hallway: his own figure, and the masked informant standing beside him. The two of them were clearly visible.
"What?" Lee Do muttered.
— Behind
— Behind the two of you
— There's someone else
— Right side of the mirror
— Hyung don't go in
Lee Do pinched the screen to zoom in on the mirror.
There was his reflection. There was the informant. And right between them, lurking in the space behind their shoulders—
A person was standing there.
Lee Do whipped his head around.
The 17th-floor hallway was dead empty. No one was there.
He snapped his gaze back to the phone screen.
In the reflection, the figure remained standing right behind them, its face completely obscured by its hands, unmoving as a statue.
"...Fuck."
Ding.
The elevator doors began to slide shut.
Lee Do stumbled backward on instinct. The informant scrambled back alongside him. Above the closing doors, the red display leaped into motion once more:
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
Lee Do looked up at the panel, his breath catching in his throat. "Hey..."
The informant's face had drained of all color. "I've... I've never seen 22 before..."
The digits clicked forward once more:
And then, from high above inside the elevator shaft—
THUD.
The heavy, reverberating sound of something slamming down echoed through the walls.
Both men snapped their heads up.
THUD.
The second impact was far closer, vibrating right down the steel cables.
The floor indicator began to plummet at frightening speed.
22... 21... 20... 19... 18... 17.
Ding.
With that final arrival chime, the doors slid open.
The elevator was empty. This time, the dark silhouette was gone from the mirror. Just as Lee Do began to let out the breath trapped in his chest—
A single chat message rolled across the dark screen.
Lee Do slowly looked up at the mirror.
Framed perfectly inside the camera's screen lay the brightly lit cabin. The mirror stood right before them, pristine and completely bare.
Neither Lee Do nor the informant cast a reflection at all.