The Algorithm of Spring

39

The convenience store looked deliberately ordinary. But Jun-ho walked straight past the shelves to the refrigerator at the back, the one stocked with bottles of Chilsung Cider nobody ever touched. He tugged it open—not like a fridge, but like a hidden door.

Behind it, a narrow staircase led down to a hidden room.

"Nobody bothers anyone down here," Jun-ho said as they descended. "The owner's history with the yakuza discourages questions."

Jun-ho nodded to the waitress, who appeared with two iced Americanos.

"Tell me more about what you found," Jun-ho said, once they were sure of their privacy.

Maya pulled a notebook from her bag. "Before they locked us out, I saw the web they've built." She opened her notebook to a clean page. "It all revolves around this front company, 'Nexus Design Solutions.'"

Jun-ho leaned in.

Maya began to sketch, drawing a central box and labelling it NEXUS. From there, she drew lines branching out to other boxes, which she labelled with the names of Korea's biggest corporations.

"They're not hacking these companies," she explained, her pencil moving quickly. "They've been invited in. Samsung, LG, Hyundai... all the chaebols have data-sharing agreements with Nexus, disguised as 'employee wellness' programs." She underlined the words twice.

Overhead, the convenience store's chime rang.

"So this is how HarmoniQ gets its data," she continued, tapping the diagram. "It's a corporate data siphon. Nexus is a central hub that all the chaebols are feeding their employee information into. And they're calling it 'wellness' to hide what they're really doing."

"So it's all coordinated?" Jun-ho asked. "Then why go through all this trouble? Why not just be open about it?"

Maya took a long sip from her iced Americano. "Because people resist direct corporate control," she said slowly. "But if you can make them think the changes are their own idea... maybe that works better. Besides, no one's going to rally around a Samsung 'employee wellness' program. This feels slicker. Cooler. It hides the source."

Her device lit up. Jun-ho caught a glimpse before she hid it: We'll always have Beijing.

"That's the third one since the Startup Hub," he said. "They're not even being subtle anymore."

Maya waited until the waitress drifted past. "After what we found, they don't need to be subtle. They want us to know they're watching. That we've seen too much."

"We need to take this to someone," Jun-ho said. "The press, or—"

"And tell them what?" Maya asked. "That a 'wellness consultant' is secretly a data siphon for all the country's biggest corporations? That an app is reading employees' minds to predict their career paths?" The words sounded ridiculous even as she said them.

Her device buzzed again. This time, they both saw the message:

Some choices leave marks that never fade.

Before she could process it, Maya saw movement through the narrow street-level window. Two men in suits, walking slowly, scanning the building fronts. One of them paused, looking down toward their window.

"We need to leave," she said, already rising. "Is there another way out?"

"Kitchen," Jun-ho said. "Through the old coal chute. Comes out in the next alley."

They left their Americanos half-finished, cash tucked beneath the cups. As they slipped into the restaurant kitchen next door, her device buzzed one final time.