found a diary in a used bookstore basement in seoul and i'm not ok

okay I wasn't going to post this but it's been keeping me up so here we go.

Summer 2023. I was working at a small publishing house in Seocho-dong, Seoul. Big book girlie, so on weekends I'd wander around the local used bookstores just vibing.

That day I walked into this old place tucked into an alley I'd had my eye on for a while. Called 문향서림, Munhyang Seolim. Been open since the 1960s apparently. The outside looked like it hadn't been touched since then either. Inside was just wall to wall stacked books, that specific old paper smell, you know the one.

The owner was this elderly guy, probably late 70s. Always quiet, always expressionless. Never really talked to me before.

That day he did.

"There are some books in the basement too, if you'd like to have a look."

I hesitated. But the curiosity got me. I followed him down.

The basement was narrow and damp. A few fluorescent lights flickering. Old hardcovers and newspapers and magazines just piled everywhere. And then in the corner, on a dusty shelf, I spotted it.

A notebook. Red leather cover, worn down. And written on the front:

"Summer of 1987"

I opened it. Someone's diary. The handwriting was neat at first, clearly a teenage girl who went to one of the girls' high schools nearby.

"July 14, 1987 - that man followed me again today. He stands in front of the store every day and watches me. No one would believe me if I told them..."

"July 22, 1987 - ran down to the basement. it's safe here. I can hear his footsteps outside..."

I kept turning pages. The handwriting got messier. More desperate. And then the last page.

Written in red:

"July 30 - the door is locked. I can't get out. someone please get me out of here..."

I felt it before I heard it. That feeling like air moving behind you when there's no reason for air to move. And then.

The basement door. Clicking shut.

I dropped the notebook on the table and got the hell out of there. IMMEDIATELY.

When I got back upstairs the owner was just sitting there. Completely normal expression. Like nothing.

I asked him about the diary.

He was quiet for a second. Looked down. Then:

"That diary appears on its own every summer. In the summer of '87, a high school girl who used to come to this shop went missing. The police never found her."

"And now? The basement, is it... okay?"

He looked me dead in the eyes.

"If the basement door locked itself right after you came up... you were lucky today."

I never went back.

but I walk past it sometimes on my commute to work. and sometimes, through the basement window, I get this feeling. like someone down there is watching me.

and then last week.

I came into my office and there was an old notebook sitting on my desk.

The cover said:

"Summer of 2025"