Let me tell you something about Busan today.
You know Haeundae. That beach — the one so packed in summer you can barely find a place to stand, umbrellas and floaties everywhere. Well, among the people who've lived there a long time, there's a story that quietly makes the rounds. They say don't walk that beach alone after dark. Not just be careful — genuinely, absolutely, never walk it alone.
I heard this a few years back, from someone who was born and raised in Busan, so I'll pass it along as best I can. I can't say for certain how true it is, but apparently it's fairly well known in those parts.
It was a summer, a few years ago. A group of college students were spending the night at Haeundae. Drinking, sitting around on the sand, talking loudly — the usual. But around one in the morning, the friends started drifting back to the accommodation one by one, until only one was left. His name was Jihun (지훈). Still a little drunk, or maybe just wanting more air — either way, he stayed behind alone on the beach.
At first he just walked. Listening to the waves, feeling the sand under his feet. You know how the sea is in the early hours of a summer morning — the air tastes of salt, the breeze comes in off the water. Those of you who've felt it will know exactly what I mean.
But it was about five minutes into his walk.
He heard laughter behind him. Low, slow, impossible to place. Jihun turned around, and there was nothing. Not a person on the beach — not even a footprint. He told himself it was his imagination and started walking again, but this time the sound came closer. As though it were right beside his ear.
Do you know what he felt in that moment? Cold. The middle of summer, and suddenly the back of his neck went ice-cold, and the goosebumps came all at once. You know that feeling — when your body understands something is wrong before your mind does. That feeling arrived.
He tried to move faster, and that's when he noticed his shadow stretched out across the sand. There was a streetlamp nearby, throwing his shadow long in front of him — but something was wrong. Beside his shadow, there was another one.
Not just a similar shape — nearly identical to his own. And even when he stood perfectly still, that shadow kept moving on its own. Slowly raising one arm. Turning its head, as if to look back at him.
Jihun screamed. He started running, but the sand clung to his feet like it didn't want to let him go. Every time he lifted a foot, something seemed to be pulling it back down. When he finally made it to the road and turned to look behind him —
A shadow was standing alone on the beach. Jihun was already far from the streetlamp by then, but the shadow was still there. With no light source to cast it. And it was reaching one arm out toward the sea.
What became of Jihun after that, nobody seems to know for certain. Some say he's doing fine. Others say he never came back down to Busan.
But here's the thing.
For those of you who've been to Haeundae at night — have you ever stopped to count the shadows on the sand?
