在一座高樓林立的城市中，有一棟建築外表平凡的老舊大樓。這棟大樓雖然年久失修，但因地段優越，租金卻不便宜。阿凱是一名剛搬進來的住戶，住在十六樓。他對這棟大樓的設計並不陌生，尤其是那個「不存在」的十三樓。
電梯的按鍵面板上，十二樓之後直接跳到十四樓。這樣的設計在許多大樓中很常見，因為「十三」在某些文化中被認為是不吉利的數字。阿凱搬進來時，並沒有特別在意這一點，直到某天，他聽到了一些詭異的傳聞。
據說，每到深夜，電梯會莫名其妙地在十二樓與十四樓之間停住，而顯示屏上會短暫亮起「13」。更有甚者，有人聲稱，當電梯門打開時，會看到一條昏暗的走廊，牆壁斑駁、地板破裂，與大樓其他地方截然不同。
阿凱起初只是聽聽而已，並不當真。他認為這只是無聊的住戶編造出來的故事，用來嚇唬新來的人。然而，隨著時間推移，他漸漸發現，這些傳聞似乎並非空穴來風。
某天深夜，阿凱因加班回家已是凌晨兩點多。他走進大廳時，發現值班保全正趴在櫃台上打瞌睡。整棟大樓安靜得有些異常，只聽見他自己的腳步聲在回蕩。
他按下電梯按鈕，等待著那部緩慢的舊式電梯降下。電梯門開啟，他走進去，按下了「16」。電梯平穩地上升，數字一層一層跳動著。
「10……11……12……」
就在這時，電梯突然一震，速度明顯放慢了下來。阿凱皺起眉頭，以為是機械故障。可當他抬頭看向顯示屏時，他的心臟猛然一緊——
「13。」
那個數字清晰無比地亮著。
他愣住了，腦袋瞬間空白。隨後，電梯門緩緩打開，一股冰冷的氣息撲面而來。外面果然是一條陌生又詭異的走廊。牆壁泛著灰黃，剝落的牆皮露出斑駁的磚塊；地板上佈滿裂痕和水漬，散發著一股潮濕發霉的氣味。燈光昏暗而閃爍，彷彿隨時會熄滅。
阿凱站在電梯裡，呆愣了幾秒鐘。他本能地想踏出電梯，但內心深處卻有個聲音在警告他：不要出去。
他伸手按下關門鍵，電梯門緩緩合上。當門完全閉合時，他鬆了一口氣，但心跳仍然急促。電梯繼續上行，很快到達了十六樓。他回到家後，一整晚輾轉難眠，那個詭異的「13」和走廊揮之不去。
第二天一早，阿凱帶著疑問來到管理處。他找到一名年長的職員，把昨晚的經歷詳細地描述了一遍。但對方聽完後，只是微微皺眉，低聲說：「先生，我們這棟大樓從建成開始就沒有設十三樓。」
「可是我真的看到顯示屏亮著『13』啊！」阿凱語氣堅定。
職員沉默片刻後嘆了口氣：「其實……以前這裡確實有十三樓，但後來因為某些原因被封閉了。」
「什麼原因？」阿凱追問。
職員搖搖頭：「我也不清楚，只知道很久以前發生過一些不好的事。先生，我勸你別再深究了。」
阿凱雖然表面上答應，但內心卻燃起了更強烈的好奇心。他開始查找關於這棟大樓的歷史資料。然而，他發現這棟大樓的信息少得可憐。唯一有價值的線索，是一篇多年前的新聞報導：大樓建設期間，十三樓曾發生嚴重事故，多名工人當場喪生。自此，那層樓被徹底封閉，並從設計圖中抹去。
這些資訊讓阿凱感到毛骨悚然，但也激起了他更大的探索慾望。他決定再次挑戰那層神秘的空間。
幾天後的一個深夜，他再度搭乘電梯。這次，他按下了「12」，靜靜等待著電梯自行觸發那「不存在」的一層。
果然，當電梯到達十二樓後，它再次停住了。顯示屏上跳出那詭異的數字——「13」。門緩緩打開，那條熟悉又陌生的走廊再次出現在他眼前。
阿凱深吸一口氣，鼓起勇氣踏了出去。
冰冷的空氣讓他渾身打顫。他小心翼翼地往前走，每一步都伴隨著鞋底與地板摩擦發出的聲響。在微弱燈光下，他注意到走廊兩側的房門都緊閉著，每扇門上布滿灰塵和斑駁的刮痕。他停在其中一扇門前，伸手輕輕敲了敲。
沒有人回應，但裡頭似乎傳來低語聲。他屏住呼吸，把耳朵貼在門上，那些聲音隱約像是一群人在交談，但語言模糊不清。他試圖分辨出內容，但突然感覺背後有什麼東西靠近——
他猛地轉身，只見走廊盡頭站著一個模糊的人影。那人影靜靜地佇立不動，看不清面貌，但散發出的氣息讓他渾身僵硬。
阿凱感覺自己的血液幾乎凝固。他強忍住恐懼，小步往後退去，直到碰到了身後的電梯。他瘋狂地按下關門鍵，終於，在人影向他靠近之前，電梯門合上了。
回到家後，他渾身冷汗直冒，再也無法入睡。他知道，那層十三樓並非傳聞，而是真實存在的一個異空間。而他所見到的一切，只是冰山一角。
從此以後，每當夜幕降臨，他再也不敢搭乘電梯，更不敢靠近十二樓和十四樓之間。他開始懷疑，是不是每座大樓消失的十三樓，都隱藏著某種不為人知的秘密？
那些被遺忘的空間，也許並沒有真正消失，它們只是靜靜地等待著下一個膽敢闖入的人。而阿凱知道，他已經無法再回到從前那樣平靜無波的生活了。
English Version
In a dense city filled with towering buildings stood an aging apartment block that appeared ordinary at first glance, its worn exterior and outdated systems easily overlooked due to its prime location, and like many such buildings, it carried a quiet peculiarity that few residents questioned—the absence of a thirteenth floor, with the elevator panel skipping directly from twelve to fourteen, a design often justified by cultural superstition, and for Ah Hoi, a new resident who had recently moved into a unit on the sixteenth floor, this detail initially seemed insignificant, something he barely noticed until whispers among other residents began to hint at something far more unsettling according to these quiet rumors, the elevator would sometimes stop between the twelfth and fourteenth floors late at night, and for a brief moment, the display would illuminate the number “13,” a floor that officially did not exist, and those who claimed to have witnessed it spoke of a dim, decaying corridor revealed when the doors opened, a space entirely unlike the rest of the building, as though it belonged to another time or reality, yet Ah Hoi dismissed these stories at first, attributing them to imagination or attempts to frighten newcomers, but over time, subtle inconsistencies began to emerge, small details that made it harder to ignore the possibility that something was indeed wrong; one night, after returning home past two in the morning following a long day at work, he entered the unusually silent lobby where even the security guard appeared to be asleep, the stillness amplifying every sound as he pressed the elevator button and waited for the old lift to arrive, and when it did, he stepped inside and selected the sixteenth floor, watching as the numbers climbed steadily—ten, eleven, twelve—until suddenly the elevator shuddered, its movement slowing in a way that felt unnatural, and when he looked up at the display, his breath caught as the number “13” appeared clearly, glowing with a certainty that contradicted everything he had been told about the building; before he could react, the doors slid open, releasing a wave of cold, damp air into the cabin, and beyond them stretched a corridor that matched the rumors exactly, its walls stained and peeling, exposing the structure beneath, the floor cracked and uneven, glistening with moisture, and the flickering lights casting unstable shadows that seemed to shift even when nothing moved, and though part of him felt an inexplicable urge to step out and explore, a stronger instinct warned him to stay where he was, and after a moment of frozen hesitation, he pressed the close button, watching with relief as the doors shut and the elevator resumed its ascent, eventually delivering him safely to his floor, though the image of that corridor lingered in his mind long after he returned to his apartment; unable to dismiss what he had seen, he sought answers the next morning from the building management, recounting his experience in detail, only to be told that the building had never had a thirteenth floor, a response that felt rehearsed and incomplete, and when he insisted on what he had witnessed, an older staff member reluctantly admitted that the floor had once existed but had been sealed off many years ago following an incident, though the specifics were left deliberately vague, accompanied only by a warning not to investigate further; instead of easing his mind, this partial revelation fueled his curiosity, leading him to search for information about the building’s past, and after considerable effort, he uncovered an old report describing a fatal accident during construction that had taken place on the thirteenth floor, resulting in multiple deaths and the eventual decision to close off the level entirely, removing it from official records as though it had never been there; rather than deterring him, this discovery strengthened his resolve to confront the mystery directly, and a few nights later, he returned to the elevator with deliberate intent, pressing the button for the twelfth floor and waiting in tense anticipation, and just as before, the elevator halted unexpectedly, the display flickering to reveal “13” as the doors opened once more onto that same decaying corridor, and this time, driven by a mix of fear and determination, he stepped out, immediately feeling the temperature drop as the air wrapped around him with a suffocating chill, and as he moved cautiously forward, the faint sound of his footsteps echoing against the walls, he noticed that the doors lining the corridor were all closed, their surfaces marked by scratches and layers of dust that suggested long abandonment, yet as he approached one of them and knocked lightly, he thought he heard something from within—a low murmur, as if multiple voices were speaking in hushed tones just beyond the barrier, and when he pressed his ear closer, trying to discern the words, a sudden awareness of movement behind him made his entire body tense, and as he turned slowly, he saw a figure standing at the far end of the corridor, its form indistinct yet unmistakably present, watching him in silence; fear surged through him, freezing him momentarily before instinct took over, driving him backward toward the elevator, his hands trembling as he repeatedly pressed the close button, and just as the figure began to move, closing the distance between them with an unnatural stillness, the doors finally slid shut, cutting off the view and returning him to the safety of the lift, which resumed its journey as if nothing had happened; back in his apartment, sleep was impossible, his mind replaying the encounter in relentless detail, forcing him to confront the reality that the thirteenth floor was not a myth but a hidden layer of the building, a space that existed beyond official acknowledgment yet remained accessible under certain conditions, and from that night onward, he avoided using the elevator late at night, choosing instead to distance himself from the boundary between the twelfth and fourteenth floors, though he could never fully escape the lingering thought that such spaces might exist in other buildings as well, hidden between floors, removed from records yet not from existence, waiting silently for those who might stumble upon them, because some places are not truly erased, only concealed, and those who find them may discover that the line between the known and the unknown is far thinner than they ever imagined.