In a very peaceful not-so-really urban neighbourhood of Seoul was this house which was like no other house in that area. It was the traditional Korean house. Everyone in that neighbourhood knew it was a house owned by a rich old man to whom this house was given by his father, who was in turn was given by his father and so on. No one messed with him, no one talked to him. No one knew him. All they knew was he was a man of power with connections going up till the highest in the government. They saw black cars flash by. If they heard strange, weird noises, the residents would just take their children in and shut the doors and windows of their own houses.

They knew he had no sense of humour, he had no family besides the deceased father. There was always a rich old man in that house and his deceased father. He had lots of connections. Curiously though, they always found him walking back and forth on one of the extended roof tops. They all had been curious about him in the initial days. The fat, rich landlord was too out of place. Any one new to that place would once try to find out about the intriguing landlord.

But, they had heard a legend.

There was once a resident who had managed to sneak in through those doors. He went missing for a while and then, when they found him in another part of the country a week later, he wasn’t the same. He wasn’t even sane. He’d keep muttering about UFOs and ‘things that he had seen’ but, nothing more