監控鏡頭本應忠實記錄現實，但當畫面中出現不屬於任何人的身影時，你還敢相信眼前所見嗎？有些畫面，一旦看過，就無法忘記。
Security cameras are meant to capture reality—but what if they record something that was never there? Some footage, once seen, refuses to leave your mind.
中文
那棟大樓位於城市邊緣，白天看起來普通無奇，但一到夜晚，整個地方就變得異常安靜，連風聲都像被隔絕在外。阿城是新來的夜班保安，他對這份工作其實沒太多想法，只覺得清閒又穩定，直到第一晚值班，他才發現這裡的「安靜」並不單純。監控室裡擺滿了螢幕，每一個角落都被清楚地監視著，走廊、電梯、大堂、停車場，一切都在眼前。凌晨兩點左右，阿城開始覺得有點無聊，正準備泡杯咖啡時，角落的一個畫面忽然閃了一下。他皺了皺眉，把注意力集中在那個螢幕上，那是三樓走廊的攝影機。畫面中本應空無一人，但就在他盯著看的時候，一個模糊的影子從畫面一端慢慢走過。那影子不像真正的人，沒有清晰輪廓，卻有著行走的節奏。阿城以為是畫面延遲或干擾，於是調出回放，但奇怪的是，剛才的影子在回放中卻消失了。第二晚，他特意留意那個鏡頭。時間差不多到了兩點，那個影子再次出現，這一次更清晰了一些，像是一個穿著舊衣的人，頭微微低著，走路的動作僵硬而不自然。阿城感到一陣寒意，他立刻拿起對講機，通知巡邏的同事去查看三樓，但對方回覆說整條走廊空無一人。當他再看回螢幕時，那個影子已經停在鏡頭中央，像是察覺到有人在看它。第三晚，阿城開始錄影。他把所有監控都開到最大解析度，甚至調整了角度，只為捕捉那個詭異的存在。凌晨兩點整，畫面再次出現異常，但這一次不只一個鏡頭出現影子，而是整棟大樓的監控同時出現了那個人影。無論是哪個角度，那個影子都站在畫面中央，正對著鏡頭，像是在「看」著他。阿城的心跳開始加速，他想關掉螢幕，但手卻像不聽使喚一樣停在半空。突然之間，所有螢幕同時閃爍，畫面變成雪花，接著又瞬間恢復正常。但當畫面重新穩定時，阿城整個人僵住了——螢幕中的監控室畫面裡，多了一個人影，而那個人，正站在他身後。阿城緩慢地轉過頭，卻發現身後什麼也沒有。他猛地回頭看螢幕，那個影子依然站在畫面中，距離他越來越近。畫面裡的「他」，沒有動，但影子卻一步步逼近。最後，所有畫面同時黑掉，只剩下一個鏡頭仍在運作，那是監控室的正前方。畫面裡，阿城坐在椅子上，一動不動，而他的身後，清楚地站著那個影子。第二天早上，接班的保安發現監控室的門半開著，裡面空無一人，只有螢幕還亮著。錄影檔中最後一段畫面停留在凌晨兩點零三分，畫面中的椅子空著，而螢幕反射裡，卻隱約出現了一張陌生的臉。之後，再也沒有人願意值夜班，而那棟大樓的監控系統，偶爾仍會在凌晨兩點，自動開啟。
English Version
The building stood on the edge of the city, unremarkable during the day but eerily silent at night, as if the world outside had been cut off. Aaron had just started working the night shift as a security guard. At first, he welcomed the quiet—until he realized it wasn’t normal silence. The control room was filled with screens, each one displaying a different corner of the building: hallways, elevators, the lobby, the parking garage. Everything seemed under control. Around 2 a.m., as boredom set in, one of the monitors flickered briefly. Aaron frowned and leaned closer. It was the third-floor corridor camera. The hallway should have been empty, but as he watched, a faint shape moved across the screen. It wasn’t solid—more like a shadow, lacking clear form but moving with intention. Assuming it was a glitch, he rewound the footage. The figure was gone. The next night, he paid closer attention. At nearly the same time, the figure appeared again—clearer this time. It resembled a person in worn clothing, head slightly lowered, walking in stiff, unnatural steps. A chill crept down his spine. He radioed a colleague to check the corridor, but the reply came back: nothing there. When Aaron looked again, the figure had stopped in the center of the frame, as if aware of being watched. On the third night, he prepared to record everything. He adjusted the cameras, maximizing clarity, determined to capture the anomaly. At exactly 2 a.m., every monitor in the room flickered—and then, impossibly, each screen displayed the same figure. No matter the angle, it stood centered, facing directly toward the camera… toward him. Aaron’s pulse quickened. He tried to turn off the screens, but his hand froze midair. Suddenly, all monitors erupted into static before snapping back to normal. And that’s when he saw it—on the screen showing the control room itself, there was someone standing behind him. Slowly, he turned, but the room was empty. When he faced the monitors again, the figure remained, drawing closer frame by frame. The version of himself in the footage sat still, unmoving, while the shadow advanced. One by one, the screens went black until only a single camera remained active—the one pointed directly at him. In that final image, Aaron sat frozen in his chair, and behind him stood the figure, unmistakably present. The next morning, the guard who came to replace him found the control room door slightly open. Inside, there was no sign of Aaron—only the monitors still glowing. The last recorded footage ended at 2:03 a.m. The chair was empty, yet in the reflection of the screen, a faint, unfamiliar face could be seen. Since then, no one has wanted to take the night shift. And sometimes, at exactly 2 a.m., the system turns itself on.
