The Algorithm of Spring

64

The Samsung Tower Palace complex rose against the sapphire sky—inverted stalactites of glass and steel gleaming in the morning light.

In the lobby of Tower Palace 3, uniformed staff moved between marble pillars, their footfalls muffled by carpeting and climate-control hum, swallowed by the building's heavy stillness. It felt less like a residential lobby and more like a private terminal—sanitised, soundproofed, controlled.

The elevator carried Jun-ho and Maya to the twelfth floor. Yeon-joo's new apartment. She opened the door at his second knock.

"Oppa."

Her smile carried that bright, instinctive warmth Jun-ho had always admired.

"Three days, no calls. You're not checking your messages," he said, stepping inside. Jun-ho bowed slightly; Maya followed with a nod of her own.

The apartment was immaculate, Maya observed, facing east toward the ascending sun. A half-empty coffee cup sat cooling on the counter beside a row of untouched designer shopping bags.

Yeon-joo sank into the sofa, pulling her knees up—a gesture Jun-ho recognised from childhood that revealed something was amiss.

"You didn't need to come," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. I've got this." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Work's good. I'm seeing someone. It's all... on track."
But her voice snagged on the last word, as if it had caught on something sharp.
"His name's Minho. HarmoniQ matched us a few months ago..."

Jun-ho watched her closely. She wasn't the same sister who'd crashed at his place when she first started at Samsung, pouring her wages into travel and adventure. Not the one who, just last year, had told their mother she wanted out—saw leaving Korea as her only path to becoming who she wanted to be.

"Tell me about him," he said.

Yeon-joo's fingers tugged at a loose thread on her sleeve.
"He's nice. Works in FinTech at Samsung. Has his own place in Gangnam."

She hesitated.

"He has a very clear... architecture for success. Knows what I should do with my life."
The way she said it made it sound less like ambition and more like urban planning—blueprints drafted by someone else.

"And what's that?"

"Being more..."
She searched for a word but didn't find one.

Jun-ho glanced around. The apartment had a show-home polish. It made him want to push back the furniture, turn it into an impromptu photography studio, tell his sister to loosen up and play pretend like they'd done as kids. Something told him that moment had passed.

Black-and-white cityscapes hung on the walls. On the coffee table, art and design magazines were aligned at perfect right angles, their spines uncracked.

"So he'll be into you once you're somebody other than your current self? Sounds like a great guy."

Yeon-joo shifted defensively.
"People change, oppa." She gestured to her surroundings. "I'm doing well. A good apartment, a promising relationship... these things matter."
Her words carried the cadence of something practised—maybe for others, maybe for herself.

"To most people," she added, with unnecessary emphasis, glancing to Maya for corroboration.

"I'm not here selling art classes," Jun-ho said. "But just out of curiosity, what does this guy think about your creative side?"

"My films... that part of me is over now."
Her voice flattened.
"Minho believes it's okay to have interests, but I need a more palatable public face—focused, professional. My films, the documentaries... they're just hobbies, they always were."