Ah, should I even be telling this… it's something I heard firsthand, but it happened to a friend of an older girl I know, so I can't swear to every detail — but the moment I heard it, I couldn't bring myself to take a late-night bus anymore. I really mean that.
It's about a woman who caught a late-night bus near Nampodong, sometime past one or two in the morning. Not even a weekend — just a regular weeknight. She said there was a streetlight at the stop that kept flickering, on and off, like it was about to die. She was standing alone underneath it, waiting, scrolling through her phone, when the bus finally pulled up. She got on and there was almost no one inside. One man in the very back, one elderly woman in the middle. That was it. She sat down somewhere in the middle, by the window.
She didn't notice at first. She was tired, just staring blankly out at the dark passing by, when she felt this strange warmth at the back of her neck. Like something was pressing into her. You know that feeling — when there's nothing there, nothing you can point to, but the back of your neck won't stop prickling. She glanced back, and the man in the rear seat was looking straight at her. Their eyes met, and he didn't look away. Just kept staring. She was the one who turned back around first — but then she could see him in the window's reflection. She kept checking, looking away and back again, and every time, his gaze was fixed on her. No expression at all.
She got nervous and decided she needed to get off as soon as possible. When her stop came up, she reached up and pressed the bell.
Ding-dong. And almost before the chime had finished —
Ding-dong. From the back of the bus.
The man had pressed it too.
Doesn't that make your skin crawl? When I first heard this, I got goosebumps all up my arms. She said her whole body locked up in that instant. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. The bus was pulling toward the stop and she couldn't make herself move. Her mind went completely blank — and then, without quite knowing how, she found herself walking up toward the driver. Her voice was shaking. "Excuse me… if it's not too much trouble, could you let me off at the next stop instead?" That's what she said. Barely above a whisper.
The driver didn't say a word. He just — gave one slow nod.
The bus sailed straight past her stop without slowing down. And then, a little further on, it pulled over at the side of a dark, empty stretch of road. The doors opened, and she stepped off immediately.
She turned around without thinking. Through the rear window of the bus, she could see the man. The bus pulled away again and came to a stop at her original stop. And she watched as the man got off — and started looking around. Turning his head one way, then the other. Like he was searching for something.
He was searching for her.
She ran. Ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could, like something had broken loose inside her. One of her shoes came off and she left it. She said she could feel the cold roughness of the asphalt through her bare foot, and somehow that sensation brought her back to herself. The feeling of being alive. Run, just keep running — that was the only thought in her head.
Afterward, the girl thought back on it and realized the driver must have seen everything in his rearview mirror. He'd been watching the whole time, knew exactly what was happening back there. That's why he hadn't needed her to explain — he'd just driven past the stop without a word.
But you know what part scared me the most?
After the man finished looking around, he turned and stared for a long time in the direction the bus had gone — the side where she'd gotten off. Just standing there. Not moving.
What did he know. That's the part that still gets her, that older girl's friend. Even now, that's the part she can't shake.
