The Algorithm of Spring

16

The stinging, cool night air was recharging. Behind her, the reception music faded to a dull throb. Maya gripped the cold railing, staring at Seoul's skyline. Distant windows glowed, pulsing like countless device screens, a beautiful sickness from this height.

A notification lit her device: Your ideal match is within 100 metres. Don't let another opportunity pass.

Maya stared at the message. Her fingers tightened around the device before she realised it. One hundred metres. She glanced over her shoulder through the glass doors, at the celebration continuing without her. The distance appeared both too close and impossibly vast.

Her thumb hovered over the app's icon. She hated how it was invading every corner of her life, how even this brief solitude wasn't hers anymore. And yet, beneath the anger, a familiar doubt gnawed—what if they were right? Min-ji, the aunts, all of them. What if this really was the only way forward?

The doubt bit deeper than the cold. Turning thirty, still single. Maybe it really was as unforgivable as they made it sound.

"You needed some air too?" The familiar voice made Maya start. Jun-ho stood at the far end of the balcony, one hand loosely holding a wine glass, the other in his pocket. Despite everything, something in her shoulders eased at the sight of a friendly face.

"Friend of a friend of a friend," he said, raising his glass with a wry smile. "Just because I'm suspicious of all this doesn't mean I can't appreciate their wine selection."

There was something in his smile—too casual, too knowing—that made her wonder if she was part of his game.

Music spilled out as someone opened the door, stepping onto the balcony to check their device and smoke. The hotel balcony stretched wide around them, its square footage rivalling most Seoul penthouses.

"The notifications during the ring exchange," he said. "Subtle."

"Like a commercial break during a wedding," Maya muttered, surprising herself with the sarcasm in her voice.

Jun-ho's mouth pulled itself into a discreet smile. They stood in silence, looking out at the city below. Lights winked in the darkness, a constellation of advertising screens and signs.

Another notification lit both their devices. They shared a look, and for the first time that evening, Maya had the urge to laugh. Sometimes the only sane response to absurdity was humour.

Their devices buzzed again: Your perfect match is closer than you think.

"They're not wrong," Jun-ho said. "God forbid two single people stand next to each other without intervention."

Maya smiled despite everything. At least she wasn't the only one who saw the joke—even if it wasn't funny at all.