This happened about three months ago. I was wrapping up overtime and headed to the elevator to leave work when I noticed a guy inside. Facing the back wall.

Finding someone in an elevator isn't surprising, but I’d never seen anyone standing with their back to the doors before, so it threw me off a bit.

I hesitated for a second, unsure if I should get on, but then I overthought it—maybe he was reading a notice or something and it’d be rude to wait for the next one—so I stepped inside.

He was mumbling something under his breath, and since I really didn't want to turn my back to him, I backed up against the wall, keeping my position to his side.

Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing straight as a board, his face barely four inches from the wall, contorted in pure rage. A demonic expression—that’s the only way to describe it.

I was chanting prayers in my head, begging for the elevator to hurry up and reach the first floor. Since I was on the eighth, it felt like it took forever to get down.

"I *said*, who the hell are you to talk?! You idiot!"

"I-I-I'm the one to blame?! Huh?!" Stuff like that.

It wasn't mumbling anymore; he was practically screaming. *Still only on the sixth floor...?* I counted down each floor in a cold sweat.

When it finally reached the first floor, I scurried out as fast as I could. Looking back after gaining some distance, I noticed he hadn't gotten off.

About a month later, I ran into him again. This time, he was talking to a wall in an underground walkway.

After that, I started seeing him all the time. Eventually, he even started showing up right near my place.

*Crap, is he targeting me?* My knees were shaking.

One day, I happened to be walking with a friend when I spotted him.

"He's here again, that guy."

Hearing me say that, my friend asked,

"Who?"

When I told him it was the guy talking to the wall over there,

He said, "There's no one there."

That was when I realized for the first time that he wasn't from this world. Remembering it was past 1 a.m. when I saw him in the elevator at work, it suddenly made sense.

In a way, I felt relieved—if he was a ghost, at least he couldn't stab me.

But then, he finally showed up right in front of my apartment door.

He was talking to the door, so I couldn't open it. I ducked out to a convenience store to get away for a bit, and when I came back, he was gone.

The next day, he appeared inside my apartment. He was talking to the refrigerator.

I didn't think he'd show up inside my place, so I was terrified. I threw some kitchen salt at him, but it had zero effect. I gave up and tried to sleep, but his shouting was so loud I couldn't get a wink. I was completely sleep-deprived.

Snapping out of pure irritation, I yelled back at him, "Shut the hell up! Get out of here!"

But the next day while I was asleep, he appeared right in front of my face, mumbling away.

By that point, I think I was pretty much at my mental limit.

"What the hell do you want?! Did I do something to you?! Stop messing with me!"

Every time he showed up, I'd end up shouting back at him like that.

Then one day, my friend caught me doing it.

"Dude... you were talking to the wall..."

he said.

Ah. Everything clicked into place.

So that's what it was.