The Algorithm of Spring

40

They emerged from the chute into Euljiro's hidden world. Jun-ho led the way through a maze of air conditioning units, climbing maintenance ladders and navigating half-forgotten staircases.

"How do you know about this?" Maya asked, lungs burning.

"Used to do fashion shoots up here," Jun-ho said, scanning ahead. "Half of Euljiro's rooftops connect—if you know where to look."

Below, the city pulsed. But up here, satellite dishes and old power units formed their own skyline. Each rooftop meshed into the next—tangled metal and concrete forming a hidden bridge over the streets below.

"We should be safe for a while," Jun-ho said, ducking into an abandoned maintenance shed.

Maya leaned against the ventilation duct, trying to catch her breath while her mind raced. "They knew we were there. Not just knew—they were waiting." Her fingers tingled—fear or exhaustion, she couldn't tell.

"They locked us out the second you got close to the Nexus registry," Jun-ho said, scanning the surrounding rooftops. "That's not an automated security response. That's a kill switch. Someone was watching us in real time—close enough to pull the plug the moment we touched the wrong file."

A door creaked somewhere above. Jun-ho pulled her deeper into the shed's shadows.

"And the men in the lobby... they weren't building security. They moved like they were government. This is bigger than corporate data-sharing."

"I know." Jun-ho's voice was grim. "But we can't prove it yet. All we have is a company name and a lot of trouble."

Below them, the city flowed like a stream. Lights blinked on as the day shifted toward dusk.

"In their minds, my sister's one of their success stories," Jun-ho said. "Perfect job. Perfect smile. Perfect... everything." He trailed off as Maya's device lit up again.

This time, the message was different:

Your optimisation journey has been paused. Please contact HarmoniQ for system adjustment.

A metallic groan echoed through the rooftop maze. Around the air conditioning units, Maya spotted a familiar silhouette—one of the men from the Startup Hub, speaking quietly into a device. He glanced up, like he could feel their presence before he saw them.

"This way," Jun-ho said, leading her between ventilation shafts. The gap between buildings narrowed.

"The next roof connects to—"

The second suited man stepped into view ahead of them, that same calm, purposeful stride they'd seen at the Hub.

Every message she'd ignored had been another breadcrumb—each alert silently broadcasting her position, lighting a trail straight to her.

Maya's device buzzed again. One final message:

Optimisation complete.

"Jun-ho," she whispered.

But he was already moving, pulling her toward a maintenance ladder.

Cold wind funneled through the gap, footsteps that weren't theirs riding the draft.

They had seconds to decide: up, into the darkening sky—or down, toward the streets below.

Behind them, footsteps closed in.