Commercial diver finds haunted WWII U-boat, things get weird

So Min-sik was a commercial diver. Like, the kind who goes 120+ meters down into the North Sea to fix oil pipelines off Aberdeen. He'd seen some SHIT. Lost colleagues, decomposed bodies, the whole nightmare deal. People called him "iron heart" because literally nothing rattled him anymore.

Then some marine archaeology team asks if he'll film inside a German U-boat (U-167) that sank in 1943. They found it on sonar recently, still standing upright on the seafloor like it just... decided to sit down there. Min-sik's like yeah sure, just another job.

He descends 120 meters. The light dies after 20 meters. Then it's just darkness and the sound of his own breathing. Mechanical. Endless.

And then the shadow appears.

The submarine is PERFECTLY intact. No explosion damage, no rust, barely any decay. It's like a giant underwater tomb. Which, I guess, is exactly what it is.

He cuts the hatch and goes inside. Total chaos in there. Equipment everywhere, water everywhere. But here's the thing—there are NO BODIES. No bones, no remains, NOTHING. It's like every single crew member just... vanished right before it sank.

He pushes deeper. Gets to what looks like the captain's quarters.

And there's a fucking phonograph.

Like a full brass gramophone with a record just sitting there. Waiting. He touches the record with his thick diving glove and it rotates slightly. And then.

Music.

A waltz. Scratchy and ancient, but unmistakably real, coming through his helmet. "Sol-mi-mi, fa-re-re..." The melody just echoes and then STOPS.

Suddenly Min-sik feels this pressure in his head. Not water pressure. Something *inside* pushing outward. Nitrogen narcosis maybe? He needs to leave. Now.

Before he goes, his flashlight catches the instrument panel. One gauge has something scratched into the glass.

German. He doesn't speak German but he photographs it anyway.

NICHT HÖREN.

He bolts out, seals the hatch, surfaces. Safe on the ship, he finally breathes.

That night? Can't sleep. The waltz won't leave his head. Just repeating in his ears, getting louder.

He goes up on deck. Looks at the dark water.

And sees faces.

Pale faces in the water below him. Dozens of them. Blurry but with these PITCH BLACK eye sockets, and they're all just floating there staring up at him. Every crew member from the U-167, watching him from below like ghosts.

He screams.

Back in Aberdeen he gets the German text translated.

NICHT HÖREN means "Don't listen."

But it's too late.

Now the music is everywhere. In the dripping tap. In the rain on his windows. His entire apartment—his entire city—has become this huge music box playing the same impossible waltz over and over.

He stops fighting it. Just sits in the dark living room, staring at his reflection in the window. Expressionless.

And the music keeps playing.