Doyun marked the area and did not go back.
The decision came after three days of noticing the same tension along the same stretch of streets. Nothing dramatic. No incidents worth reporting. Just a persistent thinning of the flow that never fully corrected itself.
A small commercial block. Two alleys feeding into a narrow road. A convenience store at the corner that stayed open too late.
He felt it every time he passed nearby.
So he stopped passing by.
At first, the effect was immediate.
The tightening that had been waiting at the edge of his awareness faded. The weight behind his eyes eased, just enough to register. His commute felt smoother, his attention less strained.
Relief arrived quickly.
Too quickly.
At work, the block disappeared from his daily awareness. Reports from adjacent areas drew his focus instead. The system offered plenty of other places to monitor.
He accepted the substitution without comment.
For two days, nothing happened.
That should have reassured him.
Instead, it bothered him.
On the third evening, he stood across the street from the block, far enough away that the sensation only brushed him. He told himself he was just checking the perimeter.
The space felt quieter than before.
Not calmer.
Quieter.
People moved through the area without hesitation. Cars passed without slowing. The flow did not tighten where it once had.
It should have been a good sign.
Doyun stepped back and left.
The next morning, a report surfaced.
Not about the block itself.
About a bus stop two streets over.
A minor incident. A passenger stumbled while boarding. No injury. No delay. The kind of thing that barely merited a line in the system.
Doyun read the report twice.
The timing was wrong.
The adjustment came late.
Not dangerously late. Just late enough that the stumble happened.
He pulled up the map and traced the routes between the two locations.
They overlapped.
Not directly.
Through movement.
Foot traffic diverted from the block. Buses rerouted slightly to avoid congestion. The pressure he had stopped absorbing had not vanished.
It had moved.
Throughout the day, similar entries appeared.
A delivery mishap at a loading zone behind a restaurant. A brief bottleneck at a crosswalk near a school. A dropped box, a startled shout, a delayed reaction.
Each one insignificant.
Each one just outside the area he had chosen not to see.
Doyun felt the familiar tightening return, sharper this time.
At lunch, he stood at the window and watched the street below.
People adjusted late. Paths crossed closer than they should have. Corrections arrived after the moment had already tipped.
The structure was still compensating.
But the margin was thinner.
That evening, he walked the long way home, skirting the block he had avoided.
The weight behind his eyes intensified.
Not from proximity.
From absence.
He realized then what he had done.
By removing himself from one area, he had not reduced the load.
He had removed a buffer.
At home, he opened his notebook and drew a map.
He marked the block he had avoided with a circle.
Then he shaded the surrounding streets.
The darker the shading, the further the effects spread.
He stopped when the pencil hovered over a residential area.
This was not containment.
It was displacement.
Doyun leaned back, the chair creaking softly.
The first rule he had learned was simple: do not interfere unnecessarily.
He had followed it.
And still, this had happened.
Avoidance had created a blind spot.
Not for the system.
For him.
That night, he wrote one final line beneath the diagram.
What I refuse to see does not stop existing. It only stops adjusting to me.
He closed the notebook.
The city outside sounded normal.
But somewhere within the range, a space he no longer watched was learning to fail without him.