The Algorithm of Spring

54

The balcony was cool, the skyline fractured across the glass.

Jun-ho's silver rings pressed against her fingers. Through the window, her friends moved in their usual rhythms—Hye-jin gesturing wide, Soo-mi distracted by her device, probably checking a baby monitor.

The door opened behind her.

Ji-young followed her onto the balcony, wine glasses clinking like punctuation.

"You know we talk about you, right? Worry, gossip—rotate between the two depending on the wine," she said, offering Maya a glass.

"I'm fine." Maya said, a lie that sounded tired even to her.

"You're withdrawing. Is it because of what happened with you appa? We're friends. It doesn't matter that you live across town."

Maya looked at her. "Do you ever think about what we wanted? Before everything was scored?"

"We grew up," Ji-young replied. "Found security. The system's not perfect—but it works."

"If you play along."

"Su-jin tried to hide. That's different."

"Is it?"

"You're brilliant, Maya Kim. You always have been. But god, you seem determined to make everything harder than it needs to be. It's like letting your navigation app send you on the scenic route through a minefield."

Maya stared out at the skyline.

"Remember after graduation? Our gallery plans? Riding the Korean Wave, doing something new?"

Ji-young sighed. "We were kids."

"Or we let someone convince us we were."

Ji-young touched her arm. "I know you're being restricted. People talk. Just fix it, Maya. Don't make it worse."

Inside, laughter spiked—Hye-jin shouting about dessert.

Ji-young moved to go.

"Just... don't martyr yourself for the aesthetic, okay?

There's rebellion, and there's self-sabotage. Think about which one you're doing."

Maya stayed, city lights flickering below. Every window held a life wired in.

Her device buzzed.

Jun-ho: Meet me when you're done. We need to talk.