Seat 0 on the Late-Night Bus
At 11:45 p.m., I got on the last express bus heading toward the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province.
The bus was old, and the fluorescent lights inside glowed dimly orange.
There were only three passengers, including me.
I sat in the window seat, third from the back.
As soon as the bus departed, an announcement played.
"This stop is… this stop is…"
The mechanical voice crackled and cut off.
On the electronic sign above the driver's seat, the words 'Passenger in Seat 0, please get off' blinked in red.
I checked my seat number.
My seat was number 14.
The other two passengers in the very back row were asleep with their heads lowered.
The bus entered a dark national road with no streetlights.
Suddenly, the brakes slammed on, throwing my body forward.
We were in the middle of a road with no bus stop anywhere nearby.
The front door slid open.
No one got on.
But wet footprints appeared one by one on the bus floor, walking inward.
The footprints came straight down the aisle.
The water-soaked footprints stopped in front of seat 13, right next to me.
The seat creaked and sank deeply downward.
The fabric cushion caved in, as if someone had sat there.
A strong fishy smell spread through the air.
I looked at my reflectio