The Algorithm of Spring

68

Maya changed clothes twice before settling on worn jeans and a simple black sweater - ordinary enough to not draw attention, comfortable enough to run if it came to that. Jun-ho watched from the doorway, already dressed in his usual plain t-shirt and jacket.

"You look fine. Normal," he teased.

"That's just the problem." Maya tucked her hair behind her ears. "I can't remember who I was the last time normal was something I got to choose."

Jun-ho's device buzzed - Dae-hyun confirming he'd accessed the museum's public feed. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. No security increases, no suspicious vehicles. All quiet.

"If something happens," Jun-ho said, slipping his device away, "we separate, meet back at Min-seo's workshop. Not here, not my place."

"You think they know about us?" A beat of silence followed—the kind where both meanings of us hung in the air.

Jun-ho considered this. "They know enough to be dangerous," he said quietly. "We don't give them anything else."

Maya gathered her bag, checking that her transport card had enough balance for a quick escape. "Did you tell anyone else where we're going?"

"Only Min-seo and Dae-hyun. Better to keep things tight."

The reality of their situation settled over them—the careful calculations of who knew what, the constant awareness of unseen watchers. Jun-ho moved closer, his hand brushing her arm.

"Maya." His voice softened. "We don't have to do this."

She looked up at him, studying the concern in his eyes. She felt the fear underneath his voice, the part he didn't want her to notice. "Yes, we do." She touched his face briefly. "Your sister. My work. Everyone being shaped by this thing. This is our life now—whether we wanted it or not. Every choice they'd made lately was a reaction to someone else's design."

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved — as if the truth of it had finally caught up with them. He nodded, accepting what they both knew was true. Whatever was waiting for them at the museum, they couldn't turn back now.

As they left the apartment, Maya glanced back at her studio—the comfortable disorder that had welcomed Jun-ho in. For a moment, she let herself imagine a different morning, one without mysterious messages or government conspiracies.

She reached for the door, hesitating—as if crossing the threshold meant leaving the last safe version of her life behind. Jun-ho hesitated too. Then Jun-ho touched her shoulder, and the moment passed.

"Ready?" His voice was steady, but his hand on the doorframe wasn't.

She took one last look at the room—coffee cooling, clothes draped over a chair, a life paused mid-sentence. She stepped through and caught the door with her fingertips. She eased it shut without a sound. "Ready," she said.

They took separate trains to the museum, a precaution that felt excessive until Maya found herself scanning each carriage for familiar faces. Maya boarded at Hongdae, standing near the doors, her reflection in the window startled her at first—too alert, too aware. She scanned the carriage again, reminding herself she was just another commuter in worn jeans, nothing worth remembering. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling that someone, somewhere, would remember her anyway.