The Algorithm of Spring

22

"Jun-ho says you've been on HarmoniQ since the beginning," Maya said as Yeon-joo rejoined them.

The question seemed to trigger something in Yeon-joo. "On it? Oppa makes it sound like I joined a cult," she said, arranging the banchan. "Everyone in Seoul uses it."

"It's been transformative," she added, her tone slipping into something faintly rehearsed. "Since I started using it, I've had two promotions at Samsung and met Minho. It helps with work and with dating. The app doesn't manipulate people the way my brother seems to think—it helps you move forward faster." She tilted her head. "Maybe you don't want me getting ahead, oppa?"

She took a sip of her drink, clearly enjoying the moment. "We all have limited time, so why not streamline your decisions? HarmoniQ helps you figure out what you actually want—not just what you think you want."

"And what is it you actually want?" Jun-ho asked, his sarcasm barely veiled.

Yeon-joo's smile held. "Stability. Success. Someone aligned with my values." She said it like their mother ticking off a list of things missing from her brother's life.

"Which values would those be?" he asked. "The ones you had before HarmoniQ, or the ones it gave you?"

"The ones I've grown into," she replied smoothly. "People evolve, oppa."

Maya's gaze shifted between them, sensing the tension of old arguments bubbling up.

"I've noticed the app doesn't offer same-sex matching," she said, partly to ease the siblings' brewing clash.

Yeon-joo looked momentarily thrown. "That's... true," she admitted. "I hadn't even thought about it." She glanced between Maya and Jun-ho, a small crease forming between her brows. "Is it bad I didn't even notice?"

"Are none of your friends gay?" Maya asked.

"None," Yeon-joo said—then paused. "Or... none who've mentioned it lately."

"None of their friends?"

Yeon-joo opened her mouth, then stalled—like she'd reached for a mental file that wasn't there.

"No." Yeon-joo seemed genuinely troubled by this. "That's... odd, isn't it?"

Maya recalled her first day in Florence—the vibrant group gathering in the studio they'd set up in the atrium of the House of the Vettii. It had been a rainbow of diversity in every sense: languages, identities, experiences. The contrast with what Jun-ho had warned about—government policy alignment, conservative social engineering—felt starker now. More tangible.

"Convenient oversight," Jun-ho said, "for something claiming to engineer universal happiness."