Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mayu first noticed the strings on a quiet afternoon, when the house smelled like rice and rain.

They are sitting at the low kitchen table, the evening light slanting in through the window and catching on dust motes that drift lazily in the air, the sound of rain falling against the windows echoing through the quiet space. Her mama hums to herself as she works, fingers deft and practiced as she peels apples into a long, curling ribbon of red skin. The radio murmurs softly in the background, some old love song her mama always seems to know the words to.

Mayu watches the apples at first. Then her eyes drift, as they so often do, to the hands.

Her mama’s fingers are slender, knuckles faintly reddened from years of work. Around her left pinky is a thin red string, brighter than anything else in the room. It doesn’t sit loosely like thread might – it hums, almost, tugging gently forward, slipping out of the kitchen and down the hallway, disappearing into the bedroom where her papa is napping after a long shift in the office, television still on in the background.

“Mama,” Mayu said, tilting her head. “Why do you have a red string on your finger?”

Her mother paused. She looked down at her hand, then smiled, the kind of smile that meant she thought Mayu was playing pretend again, and she laughed, soft.

“A red string?” She echoed. “I don’t see one.”

Mayu frowned. It was right there. Bright, but not glowing – soft, like silk. It trailed away from her mother’s hand, slipping out of sight beyond the hallway.

“Mama,” Mayu insisted, pointing. “That one.”

Her mother laughed quietly and reached out to tap Mayu’s nose. “You have such an imagination.”

But then she seemed to think for a moment, her expression turning thoughtful. She set down the knife and apples, humming as she gave Mayu her full attention, smiling at the slight pout on her daughter’s lips. The table creaks faintly as she rests her elbows on it, chin propped in her palms.

“Well, there is an old story,” her mama says. “A legend, really.”

Mayu leans forward, heart beating faster. “A legend?”

Her mama nods. “They say that when people are born, the gods tie an invisible red string around their fingers. That string connects them to the person they’re meant to meet,” her smile softened, eyes twinkling, “Their soulmate.”

Mayu’s breath catches. Invisible, her mama says. Invisible to everyone else, but her. “A string… like a kite?”

The older woman chuckled, “I suppose so,” she winked, before continuing, eyes turning distant, as if she was remembering something far away. “The string can stretch,” her mama continues, “It can tangle. It can pull people across cities, across years. But it never breaks.” She sighed, content. “No matter what happens, the two people tied together will find each other someday.”

Mayu glances, without meaning to, at her mama’s hand. The string there glows warmly, steady and sure, leading unerringly toward the hallway. It doesn’t flicker or waver. It knows exactly where it’s going.

“And when you meet them?” Mayu asks. “What happens then?”

Her mama laughs. “Well, hopefully you fall in love. Hopefully you’re kind to each other. Fate may bring you together, but the rest… That part’s up to you.”

Mayu thinks of her papa, snoring softly in the next room, of the way he always brings her mama home sweet buns after work, of the way her mama pretends to scold him but smiles anyway. The string between them seems to glow a little brighter at the thought.

“That’s beautiful…” Mayu says.

“It is,” her mama agrees. Then she reaches across the table and taps Mayu lightly on the forehead. “One day, you’ll have your own string too.” With that, the older woman returns to her apple cutting, and Mayu’s brow creases thoughtfully. Gingerly, the young girl hopped down from her chair, and followed the string from her mother’s ring finger, down the hall, and toward the living room, heart beating faster with each step.

It led, predictably, to her father. The older man was asleep on the couch, glasses crooked on his nose, the television murmuring softly. The red thread wrapped itself around his finger, neat and certain, like it had always belonged there.

Mayu stared. So that was what it looked like. A laugh bubbled up in her chest, small and awed. She hurried back to the table, just in time to see her little sister walking past, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest, her hair tied into pigtails.

Lynn’s finger had a string too. Hers stretched far and straight, slipping through the open window and disappearing into the wide blue beyond the yard. Wherever it led, it was somewhere far away, meaning Lynn was going to grow up and be destined to find whoever her soulmate was, and the idea made Mayu giggle and her face feel warm. The older sister watched Lynn’s string for a long moment before looking down at her own hands.

Mayu freezes. Her fingers are bare. No red thread coiling around her pinky or ring finger, no gentle pulls to tug her forward. There was nothing there at all, not even a faint shimmer like the ones she’d sometimes see around strangers on the street, or from the delivery man earlier, travelling toward a woman at the bus stop.

Her chest tightens. “Oh…” she mumbled quietly, stepping back into the kitchen.

Her mama misreads the look on her face and smiles reassuringly. “You’re still young. These things take time. Some people don’t meet their soulmate until much later.”

Mayu nods, though the words don’t quite soothe the hollow feeling blooming in her stomach. Lynn has one. Mama has one. Papa has one. But not her…

The young curls her fingers into her palm. “Does everyone have one?” she asks.

Her mama hums thoughtfully. “I think so,” she says. “Some people believe that, anyway.”

“Even if they don’t find it right away?” Mayu presses.

“Even then,” her mama replies. “Fate is patient, and sometimes, you’re drawn to your soulmate before you even realise it.” Mayu looks back at her hands, at the empty space where a string should be. The silence stretches, filled only by the radio and the distant sound of Lynn laughing as she watches her cartoons.

For a moment, fear pricks at her. A small, sharp thought whispers in her mind: ‘What if I don’t have one?’

But Mayu is eleven, and eleven-year-olds are good at hope.

She straightens her shoulders and lifts her head. If the string is invisible, if it stretches across time and space, then maybe it simply hasn’t reached her yet. Maybe it’s still winding its way toward her, slow and careful, making sure it doesn’t tangle.

“I think,” Mayu says softly, more to herself than anyone else, “That mine is just really long.”

Her mama smiles, fond and indulgent, not looking up from her task. “That must be it.”

Mayu smiles too, even as she sneaks one last glance at her bare finger.

One day, she tells herself. One day, she’ll see it.

She believes it.

=====

The café is already busy when Mayu arrives, the soft chime of the doorbell swallowed almost immediately by the low hum of conversation and the hiss of steaming drinks. It’s one of those places that always smells faintly of roasted beans and sugar, warm and inviting even on overcast afternoons like this one. Wooden tables crowd the space, mismatched chairs pulled close together, and a chalkboard menu hangs crookedly behind the counter, its handwritten specials smudged where someone has clearly erased and rewritten too many times.

Mayu pauses just inside the doorway, fingers still curled around the strap of her bag. Then, as naturally as breathing, she looks.

Red strings crisscross the room.

The scarlet and thin threads dance through the air, stretching between hands and looping gently around fingers with delicate knots. They lay strewn across the chairs and tabletops, glittering faintly beneath the warm overhead lights for only Mayu to see, slipping through windows and between cracks in the walls. Some are taut, vibrating with certainty whilst others drift lazily, representing the two halves that have yet to find each other.

Mayu’s eyes glance around almost unconsciously, a habit she’d built up over the years as she began cataloguing impressions of the pairs across the establishment. A couple by the window, laughing over a slice of cheesecake, hands clasped on the table, strings wrapped so tightly together they were practically braided. There were two other strangers, back to back, their strings connected without them even knowing, and Mayu almost giggled at the thought – to be so close to your soulmate, and never know it…

It was beautiful, overwhelming, yet… mundane all the same, and there was something to be appreciated in the mundanity of love.

She exhales slowly and makes her way to their usual table near the back, sliding into a chair with her back to the wall. From here, she can see most of the café without being too obvious about it. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

Mayu rests her chin in her palm and lets her eyes wander again, softer this time. There’s comfort in the predictability of it all. Everyone has something pulling them forward, even if they don’t know it yet. Even if they resist it. Even if–

“Wow,” a familiar voice says, dry and amused, “You didn’t even wait five minutes before staring into strangers’ love lives.”

Mayu startles, blinking, and looks up just in time to see Kotone standing over her, arms crossed and lips curved into a grin that’s equal parts teasing and fond. “Kotone!” Mayu laughs, straightening. “I was just–”

“Observing the threads of destiny or whatever, yeah, yeah,” Kotone says, pulling out the chair opposite her and dropping into it with a practiced ease. “Do you ever turn it off?”

“You know that’s not how it works,” Mayu smiles, sheepish. “Besides, you say that like I’m spying!” She crossed her arms, a fake pout on her lips as Kotone rolled her eyes.

“You are spying,” Kotone replies lightly, reaching up to tug her coat off and drape it over the back of her chair. “You’re just doing it… mystically.”

Despite her words, Kotone’s eyes are warm as they study Mayu, scanning her face in the way of someone who’s known her for far too long. Her hair is shorter than it used to be, dyed a soft chestnut that catches the café lights when she leans forward, and there’s a faint crease between her brows. Kotone had always worn responsibility strangely well.

“I wasn’t staring,” Mayu insists. “I was… glancing.”

“Mmhmm.” Kotone nods, entirely unconvinced. She watches as Mayu’s gaze flicks, briefly, to Kotone’s hands. Instinctively, Mayu’s eyes latch onto the red string around Kotone’s finder, trailing along the table, across the floor, and floating out the door. She knows where it leads to, but when she meets Kotone’s eyes, she catches the flicker of exasperation. She offers a sheepish smile, and mumbles an apology.

“Sorry… force of habit.”

Kotone sighs, then smiles again. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Mayu says honestly, fingers tapping against the table as her shoulders sagged slightly. “Busy.”

Kotone snorts. “Of course you are. Ms. Campus Cupid.”

Mayu wrinkles her nose. “Please don’t call me that.”

Her friend laughs, leaning back in her seat. “You literally match people up for a living.”

“Part-time,” Mayu corrects, glancing off to the side. “And it’s more… consulting.”

Kotone raises an eyebrow. “You charge money to tell people who to flirt with.”

Mayu deflates, pouting when her eyes meet the younger girl’s once again. “When you put it like that, it sounds bad…” She mumbles as Kotone’s gaze softened.

Her friend laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Relax. I’m impressed. Seriously.” She tilts her head. “How’s business?”

Mayu’s smile brightens. “Good. Really good, actually.” She hesitates, then adds, “How’s Jiyeon? You stayed at her place over the weekend, right?” The name shifts something subtle in Kotone’s expression. Not bad, just softer, more thoughtful.

“She’s good,” Kotone says. “Tired. She’s been working a lot all week ever since she started teaching kids ballet.” She taps her fingers against the table, then smiles again, small but genuine. “We’re going to visit her parents next month.”

“That’s big,” Mayu says, warmth blooming in her chest. “Can’t believe it’s already been one and a half years now.”

Kotone smiles, “Longest relationship I’ve had…” She mumbled, and Mayu couldn’t help but giggle. They share a quiet grin, the kind that comes easily between people who have grown up side by side. Mayu’s gaze flicks, unthinking, toward Kotone’s hands, but Kotone notices immediately.

“Nope,” she says firmly, sliding her fingers under the table, now offering a firmer look. “Don’t even think about it.”

Mayu flushes. “I wasn’t–”

“You were.”

The blue-haired girl hesitated, “I was just… I mean–”

Kotone points at her. “Boundary.”

Mayu sighs, smiling despite herself. “Okay. Right, yeah sorry… Boundary respected.”

Kotone smiled, letting her hands sit at the table again. “Good,” she smiled, nodding, “I know you mean well but… I’d rather find out if Jiyeon and I are meant to be… naturally, you know?”

The blue-haired girl nodded, “I… I know. Sorry… again.”

Kotone lightly kicked the older girl beneath the table, “It’s cool, don’t worry about it,” She then leant forward, eyes twinkling, “So, do you have any–”

The bell above the café door rings again, followed almost immediately by a dramatic gasp.

“Mayu!” Xinyu’s voice cuts through the hum of the room like a knife through silk. “You did not tell me this place had new pastries.”

Mayu looks up just in time to see Xinyu sweeping inside, dressed as if she’s stepped out of a fashion spread rather than a weekday afternoon. Her burgundy coat is long and impeccably tailored, her earrings mismatched but intentional, and her lipstick is a bold red that somehow doesn’t clash with anything she wears. She pauses mid-stride to inspect the display case with exaggerated seriousness, her black boots clicking against the floor.

Behind her, Sohyun trails in more quietly, hands tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket, a book peeking out from her tote bag as black headphones sit around her neck. Her hair is pulled back loosely, wisps falling into her eyes as she smiles at the sight of them.

“There you are,” Sohyun says, voice gentle, as she walks toward them, Xinyu in tow. “We missed you guys.”

The Chinese woman smiles, giving a brief giggle. “And you,” she adds, pointing at Mayu, “Owe me a recommendation.”

Mayu laughs, standing to pull them both into quick hugs as they reach the table. “I missed you too.”

The pair take their seats next to Mayu, as Sohyun sits beside Xinyu, close enough that their shoulders brush without either of them seeming to notice. Their strings glowed with a bright and familiar light, coiling comfortably around each other, pulsing in a way Mayu has always associated with warmth, like a steady heartbeat of contentment.

Xinyu plops down dramatically. “Kotone,” she says, peering across the table. “I see you’re as hot and as intimidating as ever.” She grinned, her voice warm as Kotone rolled her eyes.

The younger Japanese girl deadpans. “I see you’re still as loud as ever,” She murmured, earning a slight giggle from Mayu, “How Sohyun’s put up with your flirtiness with everyone for so many years, I’ll never know…” She half-grumbles, and Xinyu gives an indignant snort.

“Rude,” she scoffs, “And I’ll have you know…” she began, before her cheeks turned a rosy red, “...It’s because she knows she has my heart… isn’t that right, lăo gōng~”

Sohyun smiles, small and fond, and reaches for Xinyu’s hand under the table. “Of course…” She mumbled in return, voice soft and fond as Xinyu squeezed back without looking.

Mayu watches the exchange with quiet affection. “You two look good,” She says, “How have you both been?”

“We are good,” Xinyu replies instantly. “Of course, fashion school’s been… hectic,” she murmured, shuddering slightly as Sohyun rolled her eyes, “But, of course, we do keep finding ways to spend time together – and Sohyun’s already being scouted as a producer before she’s even graduated!”

Mayu beamed, “Really? Congrats!” She clapped, Kotone mimicking her as Sohyun’s face shifted to a crimson tone.

“I… thank you, unnie…” She chuckled, “It’s really nothing…”

“My baobei is so humble…” Xinyu almost wailed, wiping away a fake tear as Sohyun rolled her eyes, letting her head rest against the taller girl’s shoulder as Kotone fake-gagged.

“Sickening. The both of you.” She muttered, before gesturing toward Mayu. “There’s a child here.”

The older girl blinked, “I’m… older than all of you?!” Kotone then gave her a look with a raised brow, and Mayu huffed, “H-Hey! What are you implying–”

“That there’s a reason everyone keeps thinking Lynn is older than you,” Sohyun cut in, and Kotone cackled as Mayu deflated with a pout, before the Korean girl’s eyes glanced toward the younger of the Japanese girls, “Also, you’re acting like you and Jiyeon aren’t also sickening. We all saw those pictures from the aquarium date.”

Kotone’s face reddened, and Xinyu hollered as Mayu giggled. Before she could be embarrassed further, the bell rings again, and this time Mayu doesn’t need to look to know who it is as footsteps rush over.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lynn says, breathless, as reaches their table. Her now seafoam green hair is pulled back in a hurried ponytail, a university lanyard hanging crookedly around her neck, swinging as she stops to catch her breath in front of her sister. “Traffic was insane.”

“You live three blocks away…” Mayu says, incredulous and confused.

“Yes, but–” Lynn stops short when she glances around, eyes lighting up before she grins. “Everyone’s here!” Mayu stands and pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight. Lynn smells like shampoo and something vaguely citrusy – new beginnings, Mayu thinks, amused.

“Look at you,” Kotone says. “Our Lynn-chan is all grown up and a university student now…” She fake sniffles, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Don’t,” Lynn groans. “It’s been two weeks and I’m already exhausted.” She complains as she pulls out a chair beside Kotone and takes a seat.

Xinyu leans across the table. “You’ll survive. Probably.”

Sohyun smiles at Lynn. “What are you studying again?”

“Literature,” Lynn says, perking up, and Sohyun smiles approvingly, “It’s been really interesting so far! Though, with how much work we’re getting…” she mumbled, lips turning to a pout, “Dropping out has never sounded so good…”

Mayu rolls her eyes before kicking Lynn beneath the table. “You’ll be fine.”

They order drinks – coffee for most, tea for Sohyun, something aggressively sweet for Xinyu – and settle into the easy rhythm of catching up. Classes, work, deadlines, small complaints shared and laughed away. Mayu listens more than she speaks, content to let their voices fill the space. Lynn’s thinking about picking up a new part-time job, Kotone’s new professor apparently spends most of his lectures talking about his wife, and apparently a friend of Xinyu’s might be getting engaged soon!

Eventually, and almost inevitably, the conversation circles back to her. “So,” Xinyu says, stirring her drink thoughtfully, “How many successful couples are you up to now?”

Mayu blinks. “I don’t keep count.”

“That’s a lie.” Kotone giggles as the older girl huffs.

“Okay… maybe it is…” Mayu admits, before smiling. “But only because people keep texting me updates – everyone’s been really happy lately.”

Sohyun tilts her head. “You really haven’t gotten one wrong yet?”

Mayu shrugs. “Not that I know of.”

Her sister lets out a low whistle. “That’s insane,” Lynn says, eyes wide as she looks at Mayu like she’s seeing her for the first time all over again. “I mean… I guess being able to see all those strings has its benefits, huh?”

Mayu smiles, small and self-conscious, and shrugs. “It helps sometimes… it’s good for the business, at least.” She gave a small grin, and Lynn rolled her eyes.

“Fair… you might as well part-time as a matchmaker with a gift like yours.” She mumbled, glancing toward her own hand, and Mayu held back the urge to smile, watching as Lynn’s string travelled out the nearby window, and the older sister only hoped some day, Lynn would find her soulmate.

Meanwhile, Kotone doesn’t smile. Instead, she lifts her cup and studies Mayu over the rim, gaze sharp but not unkind. There’s a pause, just long enough for Mayu to recognize the look on Kotone’s face.

“Have you ever,” Her friend asks carefully, “Seen someone without a string?” The table quiets, just a little, as Kotone’s question settles in the air. It gets asked every now and then, usually whenever someone wonders if Mayu’s answer has changed since the last time it was asked.

She shakes her head with a shrug. “No.”

Xinyu lets out a long, exaggerated sigh and slumps back in her chair. “Figures… life is never that fun.”

Sohyun tilts her head, brows knitting together. “Why… would that be fun?” She asked, concern evident in her voice as Xinyu sighs again.

“Because that would mean mystery,” Xinyu says, gesturing vaguely with her spoon. “And mystery is fun. Tragic, maybe, but also very fun.”

Kotone snorts into her drink. “You just like drama.”

“Yes,” Xinyu agrees immediately, unoffended. “It gives life texture.” She gestured toward the air, speaking the last word in English for some odd reason, although the group had long since grown to expect such behaviour from their extravagant friend. Her arms drop as she glanced over toward Mayu, “Seriously though, think how cool it would be if everyone could see those strings?”

To that, Kotone frowned, “No thank you… sounds like a nightmare…” Her eyes widened, glancing up toward Mayu, “No off–”

“None taken,” she smiles, taking a sip of her drink, “This life wouldn’t be for everyone.” She says in a prim tone that earns a giggle from Xinyu.

Sohyun then gave a hum, thinking, “I do think it would be interesting… after all,” she glances toward her girlfriend, smiling, “If Mayu couldn’t see that Xinyu and I had a connection, she wouldn’t have pushed for us to be together, and we wouldn’t be here right now… after all, we could barely stand each other back then, but now…” Her hand squeezed Xinyu’s again, “I guess I’m just… surprised you’re so against the idea.”

Kotone sighed, shaking her head, “I don’t know… I guess I’d rather not feel bound to some hypothetical partner and actually have the freedom to find someone or experience things,” she shrugged, “Imagine liking a girl but having the knowledge that whatever you have won’t last because she isn’t the one, or meeting your soulmate and thinking… this is them? Or someone thinking that about you?”

“Alternatively,” Sohyun’s gaze drifts back to Kotone, more thoughtful now. “Imagine meeting someone and knowing… this is them, your other half. You really don’t want to know?” She asks quietly. “About you and Jiyeon, I mean.”

Kotone answers without missing a beat. “No.”

Xinyu leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes bright. “Not even a little?”

“No.”

“What if it’s good news though?” Xinyu presses. “Like – boom, confirmed soulmates, eternal happiness, no more bad blind dates or weird ex-girlfriends?”

Kotone’s expression shifts then – not quite a frown, but something gentler, more exposed. She lowers her cup and looks down at the table for a moment before lifting her gaze again. When she speaks, her voice is steady. “Especially then,” Mayu watches her carefully, the way she always does in moments like this. The younger girl goes on, “If I find a girl, I’d rather find out for myself if she’s really for me than leave it up for fate to pre-determine…”

Xinyu frowns, sighing, “That’s… fair,” she mumbles, glancing up apologetically, “I’m sorry for pushing.”

Kotone exhales slowly, then smiles, a little crooked, a little vulnerable. “It’s okay, really. If Jiyeon and I are together for the long haul, then… I don’t know, maybe I will ask Mayu for confirmation one day. But for now? I’m happy,” she says simply. “That’s enough for me.” The quiet that follows isn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it feels settled, like something has been placed gently back where it belongs.

“Well, I for one, hope I find my soulmate soon…” Lynn laments, and the group chuckles.

Eventually, Mayu checks her phone and startles, “Oh–” She stands, grabbing her bag. “I have a meeting soon with another client.”

Xinyu grins. “Another soul saved.”

Mayu laughs, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Something like that.”

She readies to leave, eyes briefly focusing on the red strings reaching out from all of her friends’ fingers, before she steps away toward the exit. “Stay safe,” Kotone calls out, “I’ll see you back at the dorm?”

“Yep!” Mayu gives a thumbs up, “Oh – and you’re on grocery duty tonight!” Kotone then groaned as the group laughed. Mayu’s eyes linger once last time as the strings around the table glow softly, steady and sure. Mayu doesn’t notice the way her own fingers curl, unconsciously, around nothing at all.

=====

The smoothie shop sits on the corner of two busy campus streets, all glass walls and pale cream walls, sunlight spilling in through broad windows that make everything inside feel a little too exposed. It smells like crushed fruit and ice, sharp and sweet, the air buzzing faintly with the whirr of blenders and the chatter of students ducking in between classes. A handwritten sign near the counter advertises a “Brain Boost Berry Blend” with added caffeine and Mayu huffs softly at that as she pushes the door open.

The bell above the door rings, and instinct takes over before she can stop herself.

She looks.

Red strings bloom into view at once, scattering across the shop like fine silk threads caught in a draft. They loop around wrists and fingers, drift over tabletops, trail through the door and out into the street beyond. A boy hunched over his laptop at the bar has a string tugging insistently toward someone Mayu can’t see; a girl laughing with her friends has hers wrapped so tightly with another across the table that it’s almost glowing.

It’s the usual quiet chaos of it all, familiar enough that Mayu doesn’t linger long. She scans the room, searching for the face she’s meant to meet. Jinsol had sounded nervous on the phone. Earnest, polite to the point of apologetic, as if asking for help with something so personal was already an inconvenience. Mayu remembers smiling as she reassured her, voice soft, telling her it was fine, that this was what she did.

She spots her near the window. Jinsol is perched at a small round table, hands wrapped around a sweating plastic cup, straw untouched. She has her phone face-down beside her, like she’s afraid to look at it. Her dark red hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, wisps framing her face, with black glasses perched on her nose and a grey scarf around her neck. Her eyes keep darting toward the door with the same anxious hope Mayu has seen a hundred times before, and it looks as if she hasn’t spotted the Japanese girl just yet.

Around her finger, like always, is a red string. It’s faint but steady, curling loosely around her ring finger, looping her pinky, before drifting off toward the back of the shop, slipping through the wall and out of sight. It isn’t frayed or tangled, no signs this might be tricky, and a smile unknowingly dances onto Mayu’s expression.

Good, Mayu thinks, relieved. Sure, she’d never met someone with no string, but her conversation with Kotone still left doubtful whispers in the back of her head. Regardless, the blue-haired girl shakes her head, takes a breath and steps forward.

But it’s then she sees the girl sitting beside Jinsol.

For a moment, Mayu’s brain simply… stalls.

She knows her. Not personally, but, everyone knows her.

Kim Yooyeon.

The recognition hits all at once, sharp and disorienting. Yooyeon, with her immaculate posture and effortless confidence, with her neatly styled dark hair and clear skin that always seems to catch the light just right in photos. Yooyeon, whose face has stared out at Mayu from campus posters and phone screens alike, smiling warmly above captions about exam season survival and late-night study routines. Yooyeon, the supposed ‘it-girl influencer’ of the campus, with a follower count that dwarfed Mayu’s own.

Yooyeon, who is very much real, sitting in a smoothie shop in a red-coloured cardigan and jeans, fingers curled loosely around her own drink.

Mayu’s steps slow down – she doesn’t think she’s ever spotted Yooyeon… like this. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Yooyeon period. The two do different courses, and anytime Yooyeon might be hosting some sort of University-sponsored event, Mayu is too busy running her matchmaking business to attend. There’s something different about seeing the girl in person as opposed to through a phone screen.

Her eyes, traitorous things, do what they always do. They look for the string. Maybe she shouldn’t be nosy, she really shouldn’t, but it’s the Kim Yooyeon! Maybe her string leads to someone in the shop, maybe it leads to somewhere else, maybe there’s–

Mayu pauses. She furrows her brow, rubs her eyes, and looks again.

There is nothing.

No red thread coils around Yooyeon’s fingers. No faint shimmer trails away from her hands. No tug, no pull, no hum of connection stretching outward into the world. Nothing at all.

The absence hits Mayu harder than she expects. It’s like stepping onto a stair that isn’t there, a sudden lurch in her chest as her sense of balance vanishes and she stumbles. For a split second, her vision swims, and she blinks rapidly, scanning again, just to be sure. Still nothing, and her heart stutters.

That has never happened before.

Mayu’s gaze drifts, unbidden, up from Yooyeon’s hands to her face, and the shock compounds itself in a different way entirely. Up close, Yooyeon is… striking. Not in the distant, curated way of photos, but in a softer, more human sense – there’s the slight curve of her lips as she listens to Jinsol speak, the attentive tilt of her head, the way her eyes crinkle faintly at the corners when she smiles. God, her smile… Mayu watches those dark eyes almost sparkle with amusement, and a softer feeling pours into her chest.

Warm, Mayu thinks, faintly dazed. She looks warm. A wave of confusion hits Mayu – a girl like this… doesn’t have a soulmate? Her? She catches herself staring and jolts back to reality, heat rushing to her cheeks. She straightens quickly, schooling her expression into something neutral, professional, yet still polite with a smile, and approaches the table.

“Jinsol?” she asks.

Jinsol looks up, eyes widening with relief. “Yes! That’s me – are you Mayu?”

“That’s me,” Mayu says, smiling. She gestures lightly to the empty chair opposite Yooyeon. “Is this seat taken?”

“No, no,” Jinsol says quickly. “Please.”

Yooyeon glances up at her then, eyes sharp and assessing. There’s a flicker of something there – curiosity, maybe, or skepticism – but her expression settles into polite indifference just as quickly. Mayu sits and pays the expression no mind – she’s dealt with this sort of belief before, people tend to still be cautious of an alleged amazing matchmaker.

Her eyes flicker between Jinsol and Yooyeon. Up close, the lack of a string is impossible to ignore. Yooyeon’s hands rest on the table, fingers long and elegant, completely bare, and Mayu has to force herself to look away. After all, the client is Jinsol, not Yooyeon.

“This is my friend, Yooyeon,” Jinsol says, a little sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind. She wanted to come with me.”

Mayu shakes her head. “That’s fine.”

Yooyeon hums softly. “I wanted to see how this works,” she says, voice smooth but cool. “I hope that’s okay.”

The Japanese girl nods again. “Of course.”

She turns her attention back to Jinsol, grateful for the familiar comfort of a client’s nervous energy, a sense of familiarity returning to her. “So,” she says gently, “You mentioned on the phone that you were looking for something more… long-term?”

Jinsol lets out a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.” She hesitates, then exhales. “I’ve dated before. A lot, actually. But it’s always been kind of… shallow?” She explains, with a slight gesture of her hands as a frown marks its way onto her face, “It’s fun for a while, but… never anything that sticks.” Mayu listens carefully, nodding, letting Jinsol talk at her own pace.

“I don’t want that anymore,” Jinsol continues with a sigh. “I want someone I can really be with, someone who gets me and doesn’t act ashamed of any quirks I might have, who isn’t… embarrassed of me…” She murmured, head dipping slightly, “I’m tired of feeling like I’m just… passing time with people.” As she speaks, her red string trembles faintly, as if responding to her words.

Mayu smiles, warmth settling in her chest. This, at least, makes sense. “That’s a very reasonable thing to want.”

Yooyeon scoffs quietly. The sound is soft, barely audible over the noise of the shop, but it lands all the same. Mayu flicks a glance toward her, but Yooyeon is already looking away, stirring her drink with deliberate disinterest, staring off through a nearby window. Mayu blinks, Rude.

Jinsol flushes. “I know it might sound silly–”

“It doesn’t,” Mayu says quickly, cutting in, pulling her eyes away from Yooyeon. “It doesn’t at all.” She offers Jinsol a reassuring look. “A lot of people feel that way, and wanting something deeper doesn’t mean you’ve failed at dating. It just means you’re ready for something different.”

Jinsol’s shoulders relax a fraction. “That’s… nice to hear.”

Mayu leans forward slightly. “Tell me a bit more about what you’re looking for. What matters to you?”

Jinsol thinks for a moment. “…Kindness,” she says finally. “And honesty – my last relationship…” she sighed, shaking her head, “I want someone who’s willing to try, even when things get hard, and…” She laughs softly, and it makes Mayu’s smile brighten, “Maybe someone who doesn’t mind that I can be a little air-headed sometimes.”

Mayu smiles. “We’re all allowed our quirks.”

Yooyeon makes a quiet noise that might be agreement, or might be something else entirely, Mayu still isn’t entirely sure what the older girl’s deal even is right now.

As Jinsol talks, Mayu takes mental notes, the way she always does. Not about the string – she already knows it’s there, steady and patient, waiting to be followed – but about Jinsol herself. The way her eyes light up when she talks about small things, the sincerity in her voice, the vulnerability beneath her nervous laughter, the way her eyebrows have an expressive mind of their own. This is someone who wants to love, Mayu thinks. Someone who’s ready for it.

She glances, once more, toward Yooyeon without meaning to. Still no string, and the absence gnaws at her, a quiet, insistent itch at the back of her mind she’s struggling to scratch. She has to actively pull her focus back to the table, to the conversation at hand.

“I’ll need some time,” Mayu says eventually, once Jinsol trails off. “I like to sit with what my clients tell me, think it through properly. We can meet again in a few days, and I’ll have something more concrete for you then. Does that sound okay?”

Jinsol nods eagerly. “Yes, absolutely.”

She reaches for her bag, fumbling slightly as she pulls out an envelope of cash. “Thank you. Really.”

Mayu accepts the payment with practiced ease, careful not to make a big deal out of it. “I’ll be in touch.”

Jinsol stands, smiling brightly now, a weight visibly lifted from her shoulders. “I feel better already.” She says, and Mayu believes her. Lynn did say she had a trustworthy smile!

Yooyeon rises as well, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She doesn’t look at Mayu as she does, her attention fixed firmly on Jinsol. “Ready?” She asks.

Jinsol nods. “Yeah.”

They start toward the door together, Jinsol chatting animatedly about a lecture she almost missed earlier. Mayu watches them go, eyes drifting once more, helplessly, to Yooyeon’s hands.

Still nothing.

Just before they reach the door, however, Yooyeon pauses, and spins on her heel as she turns back. Her gaze locks onto Mayu, sharp and cool, the warmth Mayu had noticed earlier shuttered away behind something guarded, and Jinsol lingers by the door, something more hesitant on her face.

“Don’t mess with her heart.” Yooyeon says quietly, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed. The words are calm, measured, but there’s steel beneath them, and something colder that makes Mayu double take.

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” Yooyeon continues, stepping a little closer to the table. “Jinsol is… trusting. She believes in people easily.” Her lips press into a thin line. “I tried to talk her out of this, out of paying you, because I know exactly what people like you are like,” she huffed, “You’ll say the vaguest things possible to fill people with hope, all to make a quick buck.”

Mayu feels her frown grow, her hands wringing themselves in her lap, her heart squeezing. The scrutiny makes her feel smaller, shrinking in on herself. Jinsol glances between them, confused. “Yooyeon–”

“It’s fine,” Yooyeon calls out, not looking at her. Her eyes never leave Mayu’s face. “Just… be careful.” The hostility is so sudden, so unexpected, that Mayu finds herself momentarily at a loss for words.

She swallows, then straightens, meeting Yooyeon’s gaze head-on. “I… I take my work seriously,” she says, voice steady. “I would never intentionally hurt someone.”

Yooyeon huffs softly, unimpressed. “Okay,” She turns on her heel and heads for the door, though casts one look back, “If you think you can’t do anything, find Jinsol and give the money back. Have at least that much of a conscience.” She’s gone, and Jinsol scrambles after her with a hurried apology over her shoulder.

The bell rings as they leave, the sound bright and incongruously cheerful.

Mayu sits there for a long moment, staring at the empty space they’ve left behind. Her heart is beating faster than it should be. Through the glass, she watches Jinsol say something as Yooyeon sighs, looking away. They talk some more, and Mayu’s eyes take in how, eventually, the two hug, and something loosens in her chest. The pair then laugh at something Yooyeon says, the earlier tension melting away like it was never there. Yooyeon smiles then, really smiles, and it’s warm in a way that catches Mayu off guard all over again.

Protective, Mayu realizes. That’s what that was, and perhaps… a tad personal, if she had to guess. As they disappear into the crowd, Jinsol’s red string trails after her, steady and sure. Once more, Yooyeon’s absence of a string sticks out like a sore thumb.

Mayu exhales slowly, fingers curling around her cup. She can’t quite shake the image of Yooyeon’s bare hands, nor the sharp edge in her voice when she’d spoken. She wonders, distantly, where that hostility had come from, and why it lingers, humming under her skin long after they’re gone.

=====

“She really said all that?” Kotone’s voice came hushed, and Mayu only sighed from behind her shades. The pair sat on a bench, and a few metres away was Jinsol, busy talking to a friend that wasn’t Yooyeon, and Mayu’s eyes returned to the red string looped around the older girl’s fingers.

“Yeah…” She mumbled, pulling up the face mask higher, and Kotone frowned. Right now, the older girl was dressed in some nondescript grey hoodie, hood pulled up to hide the many blue strands on her head. The shades and face mask hid any of her facial features, and Kotone was dressed similarly in disguise beside her, though opted for more black, and hadn’t made any effort to hide her hair. “I am so stuffy under here…” The older girl muttered, and Kotone chuckled.

“I did warn you that blue hair might end up becoming a bit of an…” She let the shades dip down as she gave a dramatic once over of her friend, before giving a slight hiss. “…Occupational hurdle.” Kotone chuckled as Mayu made a quiet whining noise, and her eyes returned to Jinsol, still lost in conversation. “So… what now?”

Mayu watched as Jinsol walked away, and as the string extended, Mayu smiled. “She’s walking in the opposite direction of her string, which means…” She grabbed Kotone’s wrist, “We’re safe to follow it.” She tugged her up, and kept her eyes trained on the string that had to be Jinsol’s.

It wasn’t often she dragged a friend along for this, but Kotone was curious about Mayu’s recent client when Mayu had come back to their dorm complaining, and decided to tag along when Mayu finally set out later in the week. Mayu’s eyes were narrowed, keeping track of Jinsol’s string, doing her best to not lose it. She paused, eyes glancing back towards Jinsol, who was now a faint figure on the horizon.

Gingerly, Mayu reached toward the string. She found that whilst often she could pass through them as if they were air, sometimes…

Mayu gave a slight tug, and Jinsol paused, glancing down at her fingers. Kotone had once described it as a light itch or sting, out of nowhere, and lasted only half a second. Confirming she had the right string, Mayu continued to follow it. “If we’re lucky, she’ll be on campus. If she’s not, then…” Mayu’s eye twitched, “My job might be a little harder…”

Kotone shrugged, “Didn’t you say most people were closer to their soulmate than they realised? Or that they tend to find their true loves on their own eventually anyway?”

To that, the older girl huffed. As she walked through campus, she kept Jinsol’s string faintly in her grasp, just enough to feel the featherlight touch of it, so it became easier to track amid the various red strings floating around, getting tied up in trees or looping around streetlamps. “Yes, but… I’d rather not deal with her friend if I have to give her some vague half-answer.”

Kotone chuckles, “Still can’t believe you ran into the Kim Yooyeon though… Don’t tell Nakyoung or Seoyeon, they might faint.”

Mayu huffs, looking away, “Well, she isn’t as nice as she seems.”

Kotone’s brows furrowed, and she sighed, “I mean… I can’t say I blame her for being too skeptical about you though,” she muttered, “More people should be wary of all these matchmakers or alleged psychic mediums anyhow.” Mayu gave her friend a look, and Kotone responded with a roll of the eyes, nudging the older girl’s shoulder, “You know I don’t mean you…”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Tone! Not insulting my industry.” She mumbled, and Kotone sighs.

“Okay, well, most people in your industry happen to be massive frauds,” she highlighted, and the older girl let her eyes return to the string, following it with renewed interest, “It’s reasonable to run into people who’ll have doubts, especially when they have no idea how your magic powers work,” Kotone chuckled, “Hell, I hardly understand it all myself,” the younger girl receives a look of betrayal, and she shakes her head, “Hey, I know they work, just… no idea why you even see all these strings.”

“Me neither…” Mayu mumbled, “Still though, it’s not just about her doubting me or my industry, it’s… it’s the way she spoke,” the blue-haired girl reasoned, finally pulling her hood down, shaking her head to help set her hair free. She pulls the glasses away and the mask down, and Kotone does the same, “Like… it sounded so… personal. As if she’s been through something like this before and is just… taking it out on me.”

Kotone hummed, “Kim Yooyeon being scammed by a matchmaker… you know,” she tilted her head, nodding, “I can see it.”

Mayu rolled her eyes, nudging her friend, “It still stings, is the point.”

“Aigoo,” Kotone mumbled, offering a smile as she clapped a hand on Mayu’s shoulder, the blue haired girl still attempting to trail Jinsol’s string. “Hey, at least once this is over, you’ll be proven right. Jinsol gets a girlfriend, and who knows,” she shrugs, “You might even have a new client in Yooyeon-unnie.”

The older Japanese girl raises a brow, before sighing, shaking her head, “Somehow, I doubt that…”

Kotone chuckles, and the pair continue on. Kotone watches her friend, and although she herself couldn’t see the red strings, she always wondered how Mayu navigated her life, one clouded with red that wasn’t linked to her. She thinks if she had her existence, she would’ve gone mad by now, but of course, Koma Mayu only sought how to make the lives of others more meaningful, and she offers a fond sigh.

Soon enough, the library comes into view, and Mayu hums, tilting her head. “Here…?”

“Maybe her soulmate is some nerd,” Kotone nods, and Mayu bites back a laugh.

“What, like you?” She offers, walking toward the building, and Kotone frowns.

“Hey, I’ll have you know Jujutsu Kaisen is a modern classic–”

The younger girl’s words die in Mayu's ears as she walks into the library. The air is immediately quieter, though not suffocating, as a gentle tranquility washes over her. Amid the echoes of pages turning or pens scrawling along paper is a soft hum, and Mayu looks toward the front desk. The girl has her hair dyed a soft pink, a serene expression on her face as she almost glides around, glasses atop her nose and reflecting the white light of the library PCs.

Her pen scribbles ink into boxes, probably some sort of admin work, and most interesting of all, is the red string looped around her finger. The same string that Mayu realises with a slow smile, she’d followed all the way there. Kotone notices where her gaze follows, and she gives a slow nod.

“Her?” She asks, whispered, and Mayu nods, fishing out her phone.

“I think it’s time I set up another meeting with Jinsol…” She answers with a quiet, giddy smile, and Kotone nods.

“You do that,” she agrees, turning and walking, “I’m checking out the manga section,” she mumbles, and Mayu briefly glances up, and gives a soft laugh of disbelief, a whisper in the air, before she sends that text.

=====

A few weeks later, when Mayu passes by the library, she sees Jinsol and Haseul walk out together, arms linked. Haseul’s cheeks are pink as she laughs at something Jinsol says, and Jinsol pouts. They keep walking, Haseul’s head falling on the taller girl’s shoulder, and Mayu can’t help but smile. The pair’s strings are now intertwined, and there’s a skip in Mayu’s step as she heads off to her destination.

Jinsol had been hesitant when Mayu tried pushing her to talk to Haseul, but things always had a way of working out. They hit it off almost immediately, and Yooyeon, who’d tagged along, had been quietly impressed, if her silence and faint smile were anything to go off. Mayu recalled the older girl staring at her at one point, but the Japanese girl had paid it no mind.

Ever since, Jinsol and Haseul’s feeds were decorated with cute couple photos, and Mayu couldn’t be happier for the pair. “Someone’s chipper,” a voice echoed to her left, and Mayu sighed.

“Just love seeing happy clients, Tone,” she giggles, “Speaking of clients…” She trailed off, excited, already pulling up the client request on her phone, and Kotone gave a soft groan.

“I’m still not convinced this isn't some shady underground exchange,” Kotone muttered, pulling her beanie lower over her ears as they approached The Red Velvet Roast. “The email was signed ‘Y.’ Just ‘Y.’,” she shook her head, confusion written across her expression, “That’s either a supervillain or someone who spends too much time on dark web forums… Are you sure you don’t want me to bring a taser? I still have one in my bag.”

Because of course she did.

Mayu rolled her eyes, her gaze drifting to the vibrant, pulsing red threads that crisscrossed the sidewalk. To everyone else, the world was concrete and glass; to Mayu, it was always a tapestry of potential, one that didn’t reach out to her. “It’s a cafe, Kotone,” she mumbled, “People don’t usually commit kidnappings over a latte….”

Kotone shrugged, “You’d be surprised…” she mumbled, “All crime documentaries start this way.”

The older girl huffed with a small smile, “Relax, I…” the blue-haired girl thought back to the pleasant warmth fluttering in her chest when she woke up this morning, and nodded. “I have a good feeling about this one.”

“You have a good feeling about everyone,” Kotone grumbled, the bell on the door chiming as they entered, “It’s like, textbook Mayu,” she shook her head, though the younger girl still took up her post at a small table near the window, buried behind a thick volume of manga she wasn't actually reading.

Mayu moved to the back of the cafe, searching for the booth mentioned in the cryptic message. There, tucked away in the dimmest corner, sat a figure swathed in an oversized charcoal hoodie. The hood was pulled so far forward that only the tip of a nose was visible. The person was staring intently at a steaming cup of tea, their hands – long, slender fingers – wrapped tightly around the ceramic.

The Japanese girl slid into the seat opposite them, her heart doing a nervous little dance. “Hello. You’re… ‘Y’?”

The figure stiffened. For a moment, there was only the hiss of the espresso machine in the background. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, the person reached up and pushed back the hood.

Mayu’s breath caught in her throat.

Glossy dark hair fell perfectly into place, framing a face that was far too familiar. Pale skin, a sharp, intelligent gaze, and a mouth currently set in a line of mild annoyance mixed in with a hint of embarrassment.

“Yooyeon?!” Mayu blurted out, her eyes widening.

The campus ‘It-Girl’, the girl who had looked at Mayu’s matchmaking services with the same expression one might use to look at a pile of week-old garbage. The girl who’d scoffed when Mayu offered to help Jinsol, the girl rendered silent when Mayu’s help actually worked. That girl, that same girl, was sitting in a dark corner of a cafe, looking uncharacteristically small, shoulders hunched and head dipped.

“Keep your voice down,” Yooyeon hissed, her cheeks flushing a faint, dusty pink, lips curled into a slight pout. She looked around the cafe quickly, her eyes lingering for a split second on Kotone (who was currently holding her manga upside down, and Mayu nearly facepalmed) before returning to Mayu. “I didn’t want anyone to see me coming here. Especially not Jinsol…” She sighed, “Didn’t need her telling me ‘I told you so’ for the next week.”

Mayu blinked, trying to reconcile the image of the confident Study-Gram influencer with the girl sitting across from her. Slowly, Mayu took the seat opposite to Yooyeon, and hummed. “I… I’m just surprised,” she mumbled, “The last time we spoke, I believe you called my process ‘statistically improbable’ and ‘vaguely predatory.’”

Yooyeon winced, the color in her face deepening. “Right, sorry about that…” she sighed, her voice and tone softer, earnest, “I was… skeptical, and protective. Jinsol-unnie is my best friend, and she’s prone to following her heart off a cliff if someone tells her there’s a pretty view at the bottom,” She paused, tracing the rim of her cup. “But I’ve been watching them. Her and Haseul.”

“They’re happy,” Mayu said softly.

“They’re more than happy. They’re… balanced,” Yooyeon admitted, her voice dropping to a vulnerable register. “I’ve known Jinsol for a while, seen her when she thinks she’s in love, and… it’s always been a little painful. But here… it’s different,” she muttered, shaking her head, before glancing out the window. She took a long sip of her drink, letting the warm liquid wash down her throat, before continuing, “It’s like she finally found the missing piece of a puzzle she didn't know she was solving.”

Mayu smiled. “That’s the power of love,” she giggled.

Yooyeon’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of an emotion Mayu didn’t have the chance to decipher. “I still am skeptical, Mayu, but whilst I might struggle to believe the word of matchmakers… I do believe in results,” she muttered, her posture straightening, “After I saw how Jinsol was doing, I did some… research.”

“Research?”

She nodded, “I interviewed your friends, Xinyu and Sohyun,” Yooyeon said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to conduct a peer-reviewed study on romance. “I also tracked down multiple other couples you set up last year, for a better sample size,” her fingers drummed against the table, “I asked them about their compatibility, their conflict-resolution styles, and the longevity of their attraction.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “They all said the same thing. They said you knew. That you saw something no one else did.”

Mayu felt a swell of pride, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sheer intensity of Yooyeon’s gaze, something that made her skin shiver.

“I’ve had matchmakers before,” Yooyeon continued, her voice turning bitter. “My parents hired a high-end service last summer. They used personality tests and financial background checks. It was a disaster. They set me up with people who looked good on paper but felt like… cardboard,” she scoffed, shaking her head, “One of them actually tried to invoice me for the time he spent listening to me talk about my exams.”

Mayu let out a small, sympathetic laugh. “That sounds awful.”

“It was,” Yooyeon said. She looked down at her hands, her bravado slipping. “I… I’m supposed to be perfect, Mayu. I have a 4.0 GPA, over five hundred thousand followers who look to me for life advice, and a closet full of clothes I’m told make me the ‘ideal type’,” she went on, hands clasping on the table, “And I’ve never… I’ve never had a girlfriend,” she admits, “I’ve never even had a second date that didn't feel like a chore.”

She looked up, and for the first time, Mayu saw the loneliness hidden behind the perfect grades. “I’m tired of being the ‘It-Girl’ who goes home to an empty room to study until 2 AM,” Yooyeon whispered. “Jinsol thinks I’m above it all, the campus thinks I’m too busy for love,” she shakes her head, “I thought I was too, but… but when I see the way Haseul and Jinsol look at each other… when I see couples in the street, I realised I want what they have.”

The older girl glances up, meeting Mayu’s eyes, wide, not marked with skepticism, but something brighter, almost hopeful. “I want to be someone’s ‘One’,” She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “So. I’m here. I’m asking for your help. Professionally.”

Mayu felt a rush of warmth. This was why she did what she did, to help people so earnestly in need of love and want to find their special someone, their soulmate. “Yooyeon, I’d be honored to–”

As she spoke, Mayu’s eyes instinctively drifted to Yooyeon’s hands. She prepared herself for the familiar sight: the shimmering, ethereal crimson thread tied to the pinky, stretching out into the world toward some unknown girl.

But as she looked, Mayu’s words died in her throat. Right. Of course. How could she have forgotten? It was one of the first things she’d noted about the girl when they first met, a glitch in the system she’d never encountered before.

Yooyeon’s hands were bare.

There was no red glow, no shimmering thread. No faint, pulsing heartbeat of destiny to tie her down. Where there should have been a string leading to a soulmate, there was only empty, cold air. Mayu felt a cold pit form in her stomach. In all her years of seeing the strings, she had never encountered this. Even the most cynical people had strings. Even people who chose to be alone had strings that simply trailed off into the distance. But Yooyeon?

Yooyeon was a blank canvas.

“Mayu?” Yooyeon asked, her brow furrowing. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Mayu forced a smile, her mind racing. If she told Yooyeon the truth – that she couldn't see a destiny for her – it would crush the girl’s newly found hope. It would confirm every fear Yooyeon had about being ‘broken’ or ‘unlovable’, fears Mayu knew all too well.

Maybe it’s just a glitch in life, Mayu thought desperately. Maybe her string is just… faint, maybe Mayu was too tired from deadlines to really see it. “Nothing’s wrong,” She lied, her voice a bit too high. “I was just… thinking about where to start. You’re a complex case, Kim Yooyeon. A high-profile client requires a high-profile strategy.”

Yooyeon seemed to relax, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I suppose that’s fair,” she leans back in her seat, nodding, “I don’t do anything halfway.”

“Then we have a deal,” Mayu said, extending her hand across the table.

Yooyeon reached out and took it. Her skin was warm, her grip firm and certain. As their hands met, Mayu looked down again, hoping, praying for a spark of red to appear.

Nothing.

But as Yooyeon squeezed her hand, Mayu felt a strange, grounding jolt in her chest, one that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the girl sitting in front of her. Her skin was soft, warm when Mayu expected to be cold, and their hands remained connected for a split second longer than they needed to. When they retracted, Mayu could still feel the buzz against her skin.

“I should warn you,” Yooyeon said, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “I’m a very demanding client. I’ll expect weekly progress reports.”

Mayu laughed, the sound a little breathless. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”

As they walked out of the cafe, Kotone scurried up to Mayu’s side, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. “Was that… was that Yooyeon? The one who told you that your business was a scam?”

“The very same,” Mayu said, watching Yooyeon’s retreating figure. Even in a hoodie, she walked with a grace that turned heads.

“And?” Kotone prompted, leaning in. “What did the strings say? Who is the lucky girl destined for the Kim Yooyeon? Do I need to get ready for another week of string tracking?”

Mayu stayed silent for a long moment, the image of Yooyeon’s bare hands burned into her mind, and Kotone’s smile faltered. “I don’t know, Tone,” Mayu whispered, her heart heavy with a secret she wasn't ready to share. “For the first time in my life… I couldn't see anything at all.”

=====

The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the Mayu’s room, casting long, pale shadows across the floor. To Mayu’s eyes, however, the room was anything but dim. It was a chaotic web of glowing crimson – a string snaked from under Kotone’s pillow, trailing out the door; another dozen thin, faint threads pulsed her view from the windows, belonging to the girls in the adjacent rooms, weaving a complex tapestry of human connection that stretched into the night sky.

But when Mayu closed her eyes and saw the image of Yooyeon sitting in that cafe, the world turned frustratingly, terrifyingly black.

“I’m telling you, Tone, it was just… gone,” Mayu groaned, face-planting into her pillow. She kicked her legs in a fit of frustration, her voice muffled by the fabric. “There’s nothing there – no string, no glow. Not even a frayed end.”

Kotone, who was currently lying on her back using a foam roller for her sore shoulders, tilted her head back to look at her roommate. “So, she’s, what, a glitched NPC? Maybe the universe forgot to update her romantic software,” she shrugged with a faint smile.

The older girl rolled over, staring up at the ceiling where Kotone’s string seemed to loop and dance around the lights above. “It’s not funny,” she huffs, shaking her head, “I’ve never seen this before,” she sits up, meeting the younger girl’s eyes, “Everyone has one. Even the people who end up alone for eighty years have a string that just… wanders, connected to someone they never got the chance to meet. But Yooyeon?” She shakes her head, “It’s like the concept of 'The One' doesn't exist for her.”

Kotone stopped rolling and sat up, “Now who does that remind me of…” She mumbles, though Mayu doesn’t seem to hear her. The younger girl’s expression shifts, turning uncharacteristically serious. “If this is so much trouble, then… Why did you say yes, Mayu? You’re the campus matchmaker. Your whole brand is built on the fact that you have a cheat code for destiny,” she tilts her head, “If there’s no destiny to read, you’re just a regular girl giving regular dating advice.”

Despite her words, the younger girl seemed more curious than anything else, “Why take the risk?”

Mayu sighed, the sound escaping her like a slow leak. She thought back to the cafe – to the way the light had caught the sharp line of Yooyeon’s jaw, and the way her voice had cracked just the tiniest bit when she mentioned her empty room.

“I don't know,” Mayu whispered, her gaze drifting to her own hand. She couldn't see her own string, of course – she was the observer, never the observed – but she felt a strange phantom tug in her chest nonetheless. “I just… I wanted to. When she looked at me and asked for help, she didn't look like the campus ‘It-Girl’ you keep saying she is,” she hummed, “She looked like someone who had been told her whole life she was perfect, but she felt like a failure because she couldn't find the one thing that comes naturally to everyone else.”

She collapses back into her bed, staring up toward the ceiling, “I couldn't just walk away.”

The younger girl eyed her for a moment, before letting out a huff of air. “Spoken like a true protagonist,” Kotone teased, and Mayu groaned, tossing a manga at the younger girl’s face. She caught it easily, and when Mayu glanced over with a pout, kind eyes greeted her. Kotone crawled over to Mayu’s bed and poked her in the shoulder. “Look, if the magic is broken, you just have to do it the old-fashioned way. You know, like the rest of us mere mortals do,” she chuckled, shrugging.

“And that is?” Mayu asked, and Kotone grinned.

“Trial and error, testing to see if you have chemistry,” she hummed, “Actually talking to people first.”

“The old-fashioned way is so messy,” Mayu lamented. “There are no guarantees. What if I set her up with someone and they’re terrible? What if I break her heart and she hates me and swears off love forever?”

“You’re being dramatic,” Kotone deadpans, and when Mayu still pouts, she sighs, gaze softening, “You won’t. You’re observant, Mayu. You see things other people miss, even without the glowy red stuff,” she gave a brief wave of her hands, “You’ve told me plenty of times just having the connection isn’t enough, that you still have to put the work in for the relationship itself. I don’t think this is too different, you’re just… less certain about step one.”

The logic wasn’t entirely flawed, as much as Mayu dreaded to admit it, and she sighed, nodding. “You’re right…” she sat upright, so fast it knocked Kotone back onto her hands with a yelp, “You’re right!”

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Kotone mumbled, before humming. “Look, let’s think back to what she said at the cafe. Did she give you anything to go on? An ‘ideal type’?”

Mayu closed her eyes, summoning the memory of Yooyeon’s intense, dark eyes across the table.

***

The cafe had been noisy, the scent of burnt beans and expensive perfume hanging in the air. Yooyeon had leaned back, her guard momentarily lowered as she contemplated Mayu’s question.

“My type?” Yooyeon had repeated, her voice thoughtful. “I don't really have a list of… traits, physical or otherwise,” her gaze remained curious, analytical, “I’ve dated the ‘pretty’ girls and the ‘smart’ girls, and none of it stuck.”

Mayu nodded empathetically, “Okay… that’s fine, not everyone knows what they want straight away. Sometimes you think you have a type and the love of your life is totally the opposite,” Yooyeon nodded with a hum, and Mayu went on, “Just… how about this – imagine you come back from a long, gruelling day of work. Your body is tired, you just want to go home and relax… what is the best kind of person waiting for you then?”

Yooyeon purses her lip, thinking, and Mayu goes on, “Maybe even… just, rather than a list of exact traits, is there a vibe maybe? A common denominator for anyone you’d want to be around for a long time?”

The older girl thinks, and the conversations surrounding them float through the air softly. After the clock on the wall ticks a few more times, and after the bell chimes as people come and go, Yooyeon speaks. “I think… I want someone who isn't intimidated by me,” she starts, “Someone who sees the 4.0 GPA and the social media following as the least interesting thing about me.”

She paused, her fingers drumming a rhythmic beat on the table, and Mayu nodded, encouraging. “I want someone who’s a bit of a contradiction. Someone who’s incredibly empathetic but also grounded… Someone who’s a little bit of a mess, maybe?” She sighed, “I… I don’t want someone overly perfect who makes me feel like I have to keep up appearances… Just messy enough to make me feel like I don't have to be perfect all the time.”

“Anything else?” Mayu asks, careful to not sound as though she were rushing the older girl.

“And…” Yooyeon’s hands clench, briefly, before relaxing, “And they have to be observant. I want someone who notices the things I don't say, who knows things about me I didn’t even know, just because they were looking.”

When Yooyeon meets Mayu’s eyes this time, there’s a startling sincerity to them, enough to make Mayu feel an odd fuzzy feeling in her throat, and a warmth humming in her chest.

***

Mayu opened her eyes, blinking back into the present. “She said she wanted someone who isn't intimidated by her,” she nods, “Someone empathetic but grounded, a-and observant,” it comes back to her all at once, “Someone who likes her for her, not the ‘It-Girl’ persona.”

Kotone was quiet for a second, a slow, mischievous smirk spreading across her face.

“What?” Mayu asked, feeling a sudden flare of defensiveness. “What is that look?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kotone said, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “It’s just… that’s a very specific description. Empathic? Grounded? A little bit of a mess?” She gestured broadly at Mayu’s side of the room, which was currently a disaster zone of discarded sweaters, open notebooks, and half-empty tea mugs. “And 'observant'? You literally spend your entire life observing people, Mayu.”

Mayu felt a hot prickle of embarrassment climb up her neck. “That – that doesn't mean anything! Half the girls in the sociology department fit that description,” she squeaks, shaking her head, “It’s a very common archetype.”

“Is it?” Kotone raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure if I asked Jiyeon to describe you, she’d use those exact words. ‘A grounded mess who notices everything.’”

“I am not a mess,” Mayu huffed, rolling over and hiding under her sheets. She stubbornly tugs her duvet up to her chin, turning over to meet Kotone’s eyes, and it takes the younger girl all her willpower to not laugh at the ridiculousness of Mayu in her cocoon of comfort. “I am… creatively organized.”

“Right. And Yooyeon, the girl who hates scammers and values logic, just happened to seek out the weird matchmaker who’s mysteriously never been wrong to help her find love,” she tilts her head, “Doesn't that seem a little… contradictory to you?”

Mayu shakes her head, “She’s desperate, Tone. That’s all.”

“Sure, unnie,” Kotone laughed, sliding off the bed and heading back to her own. “Just saying. If you can’t see her string, maybe it’s because you’re standing too close to it.” she wiggles her eyebrows, “Or maybe you’re the one holding the other end.”

“That’s not how it works,” Mayu snapped, though her heart was suddenly pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. “The matchmaker doesn't get a string. I’m the referee, not a player in the game. It’s a universal law.”

“Says who?” Kotone offers, “Not like you have a rulebook on how your magic works, lord knows we tried to find one…” Kotone sighed as she reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness – or at least, the version of darkness Mayu was allowed to see. In the shadows, the red strings seemed to glow even brighter, weaving through the night sky like liquid fire. But as Mayu stared at the space where Yooyeon would have stood, she found herself wondering.

If there was no destiny written in the stars for Yooyeon, then for the first time in Mayu’s life, she wasn't just a guide. She was possibly an architect, the one who’d build Yooyeon’s connection for her. As much as that idea terrified her, a small, rebellious part of her couldn't wait to start building.

“Go to sleep, Tone,” Mayu muttered.

“Goodnight, Matchmaker,” Kotone replied, her voice full of suppressed giggles. “Don’t dream about ‘ideal types’ too much.”

Mayu didn't answer. She just pulled the covers over her head, trying to ignore the fact that for the first time ever, she was looking forward to a day where she wouldn't have to rely on the strings at all.

=====

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Yooyeon muttered.

“Positive!” Mayu chirped.

The chilled air was crisp enough to make the Japanese girl’s breath hitch in her chest, turning into small white clouds that vanished against the backdrop of the university’s brick dormitories. Beside her, Yooyeon looked like she had stepped off a high-fashion runway, what with her long dark coat over a black turtleneck, and her hair tucked neatly into a beret. She looked composed, perfect, and, of course, deeply annoyed.

“I still don’t see why a ‘networking event’ for Computer Science and Bio-Chem majors is the breeding ground for my future love,” Yooyeon said, her voice dry as the winter wind, “Least of all when it’s less of an ‘event’ and more of an excuse to throw a houseparty.”

“Because,” Mayu countered, stepping over a crack in the pavement with the practiced grace of someone used to dodging invisible obstacles, “You need a change of pace. You’ve spent the last three years surrounded by people who are just like you – ambitious, polished, and constantly aware of their own image,” she summarises, and Yooyeon tilts her head, “Everyone here? They don’t care about ‘Study-Grams’, they’re here to let loose and have fun.”

“It’s going to smell like energy drinks and desperation,” Yooyeon muttered.

Mayu laughed, reaching out to give Yooyeon’s arm a playful squeeze. “Maybe, but you did hire me for help, and the first step is always putting yourself out there,” she reasoned, and the older girl pouted again, and Mayu felt another traitorous squeeze in her chest, “You won’t find a girlfriend if you’re locked in the library until 2AM every night. Love requires a little bit of legwork, Yooyeon,” she lightly nudged the older girl, “You have to put yourself in the path of the universe.”

Yooyeon looked down at Mayu’s hand on her arm, her expression softening for a fleeting second before she regained her mask of composure with a collected smile, “Fine,” she rolls her eyes, and Mayu does a little celebration. It earns her a chuckle from Yooyeon, who’s quick to put a hand on Mayu’s shoulder, “But if I get cornered by some guy who won’t take no for an answer, I’m leaving, and you’re buying me dinner for a week.”

“Deal,” Mayu chirped, and ignored the buzzing on her shoulder from where Yooyeon touched her.

They soon reached the house, greeted by the sight of a sprawling, slightly dilapidated rental off-campus, and Mayu’s vision was immediately flooded by a flash of red. At parties like this, the red threads were a tangled, chaotic mess, zigzagging through the air like a laser-security system gone wrong. It was dizzying – she saw strings leading from the porch to the kitchen, strings looped around beer cans, and strings that were so frayed they looked like they might snap at any moment.

But as she glanced at Yooyeon, the void remained, a stillness that seemed to ground her. Yooyeon walked through the sea of crimson threads as if she were a ghost, the strings passing through her without a single flicker of connection. It made Mayu’s heart ache with a strange, protective pang.

I'll find you one, Mayu promised silently. Even if I have to tie the knot myself… wait–

The party was exactly what Mayu had promised: a ‘grounded’ mess. The music wasn’t too loud, mostly lo-fi beats that thumped and droned throughout the house, and the air smelled more like sugary sodas and old textbooks than cheap beer. Mayu actually recognised quite a few of these people – as a matchmaker, she happened to run into a decent chunk of the student population when scouting for soulmates.

“Okay, target at two o’clock,” Mayu whispered, leaning into Yooyeon’s space, and the older girl glanced over with flushed cheeks. “That’s Minhee, she’s studies Robotics. She’s brilliant, she has a rescue dog, and she’s currently wearing a sweater that looks like it’s 100% cashmere,” she nudged the older girl, “Go.”

Yooyeon sighed but adjusted her coat. “What do I even say? ‘Hello, I’m Yooyeon, I’ve never had a girlfriend, do you like robots?’”

The younger girl suppressed a giggle, slapping her arm, “Just ask her about her project! People love talking about their passions.”

Mayu watched from the doorway as Yooyeon glided toward the group. Even in this crowd of brilliant eccentrics, Yooyeon stood out like a diamond in a rock tumbler. She was magnetic – within minutes, Minhee was gesturing wildly about a haptic feedback arm, and Yooyeon was nodding, her ‘listener’ face perfectly engaged. Mayu smiled – of course Yooyeon was doing fine, you didn’t become a successful influencer by having the charisma of a rock.

Seeing the opening, Mayu slipped away. She did this three more times over the next hour whenever she’d see Yooyeon beginning to drift around. She’d scout a group, find someone who looked kind and unattached (even if their string led elsewhere, Mayu was looking for any spark), introduce Yooyeon, and then vanish into the background like a matchmaking ninja.

By the fourth time she’d ditched Yooyeon, Mayu found herself at the snack table, which was surprisingly well-stocked with high-quality charcuterie. She was halfway through a piece of brie when a shadow fell over her.

“The cheese is acceptable, but the conversation is lacking,” a voice said.

Mayu jumped, nearly dropping her cracker. Yooyeon was standing there, looking slightly windswept and very tired. Mayu’s eyes widened, “What happened to the girl from the Bio-Chem lab?” she asked, wiping a crumb from her lip. “I saw you two talking for twenty minutes! She was cute, right? And she seemed really into your thoughts on academic burnout.”

Yooyeon leaned against the table, her shoulder brushing against Mayu’s. “She was nice. Perfectly pleasant. But…” She trailed off, staring into the plastic cup of sparkling water in her hand. “It’s like talking to a textbook, Mayu. There’s no… pull.”

“You’re being too picky,” Mayu teased, though she felt a knot of guilt in her stomach.

“I’m not,” Yooyeon said softly, a hint of frustration lying under her tone. She turned to look at Mayu, her dark eyes searching Mayu’s face. “I watched Jinsol the night she met Haseul. You remember? Jinsol is… well, she’s Jinsol,” she chuckles, and Mayu’s gaze softens, “She’s usually a bit of a flighty mess. But the moment she saw Haseul, it was like the world stopped moving. She told me later that she felt butterflies – not the nervous kind, but the kind that feel like they’re carrying you home… warm, pleasant.”

Yooyeon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve talked to four different girls tonight, Mayu. They’re all smart, they’re all attractive, I think they’re all into me, but…” Her hand clenches on the table, and hesitantly, Mayu offers a supportive squeeze to her forearm, and Yooyeon sighs, “But I don’t feel the butterflies. I don’t feel the pull. I just feel… tired.”

Mayu felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to tell Yooyeon that the reason she didn't feel the pull was because the strings didn't exist for her. She wanted to say that maybe ‘the pull’ wasn't a universal right. But looking at the vulnerability in Yooyeon’s eyes, she couldn't. “Maybe it doesn't happen the first second for everyone,” Mayu said, her voice unusually small, recalling the words she used to tell herself. “Maybe for some people, it’s a slow burn. You’re looking for a lightning strike, Yooyeon, but maybe you’re the type who needs to build a campfire.”

Yooyeon looked like she wanted to say something, something heavy, but she was interrupted.

“Hey, I know you.”

A tall, lanky guy with thick glasses, broad shoulders and a smug grin wandered over to the snack table. He was holding a red solo cup and swaying slightly. Mayu recognized him vaguely from a lecture she attended when also meeting with a client, one of those students who made a point of correcting the professor every five minutes.

“You’re the matchmaker, right?” the guy sneered, looking Mayu up and down. “The one who tells people who to date based on… what was it? Vibes? Advice?”

Mayu stiffened, her hand tightening around her napkin. “It’s just a service I provide. If you’re not interested, you don’t have to talk to me.”

“Oh, I’m interested in the psychology of it,” he said, stepping closer, encroaching on Mayu’s personal space. He ignored Yooyeon entirely, focusing his condescension on Mayu. “It’s a classic scheme. You find vulnerable people, give them a placebo for their loneliness, and take the credit when they find someone,” he chuckles, and Mayu’s skin crawls as though bugs hid along it, “It’s actually pretty predatory, don’t you think? Exploiting the statistically inevitable for your own ego?”

“She isn't exploiting anyone,” Yooyeon said, her voice dropping an octave. It was a cold, sharp sound that sliced through the party noise.

The guy blinked, finally looking at Yooyeon. His eyes widened as he realized who she was. “Oh, hey, Yooyeon. Didn't see you there. I was just telling your friend here that her little business is a bit of a pseudoscience scam,” he chuckles, and Mayu wishes she didn’t see the red string around him, wishes she didn’t know that, unlike her and Yooyeon, apparently someone was meant for this oaf of a human. “I mean, you’re a 4.0 student, you get it, right? Logic over superstition?”

He turned back to Mayu, reaching out as if to pat her on the head or shoulder – a gesture of pure, unadulterated belittlement. “It’s cute that you have a hobby, but maybe leave the actual 'matching' to people who understand social algorithms.”

Before his hand could touch Mayu, Yooyeon moved.

It wasn’t a loud movement. She simply stepped in front of Mayu, a literal shield of dark fabric and cold fury. She didn't touch the guy, but the sheer aura of her presence made him stumble back half a step. “First of all,” Yooyeon said, her tone as sharp as a scalpel, “Her name is Mayu. Not just ‘matchmaker’. Second, the fact that you feel the need to harass a girl at a party to validate your own mediocre intellect is the only 'statistically inevitable' thing in this room.”

The guy’s face turned a mottled purple. “I was just–"

“You were being a bore,” Yooyeon interrupted, and Mayu’s eyes widened. “And you’re bothering my friend. If you have any more 'logical' insights, I suggest you share them with the trash can. It’s the only thing here on your level.”

The Japanese girl felt her jaw drop slightly, something fluttering within her chest. The older girl didn't wait for a rebuttal. Yooyeon turned, grabbed Mayu’s hand, and began walking. Her grip was tight, not enough to hurt, but enough to let Mayu know she wasn't letting go. “We’re leaving,” Yooyeon muttered.

They burst out of the house and onto the porch, the freezing night air hitting them like a bucket of cold water. The noise of the party muffled instantly as the door swung shut behind them.

Yooyeon didn't stop until they reached the edge of the porch, near the railing. She let go of Mayu’s hand and took a deep, shaky breath, her knuckles white as she gripped the wooden rail. “Are you okay?” Mayu asked softly, her heart still racing from the confrontation.

“I hate people like that,” Yooyeon said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage, and there was something simmering beneath her gaze. Something heavy again, unspoken, like before within the house, before that man came along. “They think because they can solve an equation, they have the right to look down on anyone who believes in something more than just numbers. They’re so… empty.”

Mayu stepped closer, the cold wind whipping her hair across her face. “You didn't have to do that, Yooyeon. I’m used to it. Being a ‘matchmaker’ comes with a lot of eye-rolls.”

Yooyeon glanced over toward her, eyes scanning the smaller girl, before looking away again, sighing. “You shouldn’t have to get used to it…”

The Japanese girl nodded, looking out down the street. Something lingered in her mind, and she swallowed, her throat bobbing. “Not to be rude…” she mumbled, “But… you were kinda the same when we met…”

Yooyeon flinched at the reminder, and sighed. “I… I know, I said I was sorry for a reason…” she mumbled, and Mayu felt guilt stir in her chest, “But… but I saw it. You helped people. Somehow, despite all logic, you’re really good at this, and…” she gave a slight groan, and Mayu glanced back, looking at her, “And it’s like… if you’re giving me a chance, helping me, then when he mocked you it… it wasn’t just him insulting you, but all the people you helped, all the work you did…”

The Japanese girl felt the breeze brush against her, yet she couldn’t have felt more warm. “I didn’t like that,” Yooyeon rasped.

The blue-haired girl shifted on her feet, checking the time on her phone. “You know,” she started, “There’s a 24-hour diner nearby, they do great milkshakes,” she hummed, “Wanna get some?”

=====

The walk to the diner was a quiet affair, but for the first time since they’d met, the silence didn't feel like a battlefield. It felt like a shared exhale. The harsh, biting wind of the night seemed to lose its teeth as they stepped into The Kitschy Dive, a 24-hour joint that looked like it had been preserved in amber since 1994.

The air inside was thick with the scent of frying oil, vanilla syrup, and the comforting hum of a jukebox playing a soft, jazzy instrumental. Neon pink and blue lights buzzed overhead, reflecting off the chrome trimmings of the booths. Mayu led the way to a corner booth, the red strings of the few late-night patrons – a tired-looking truck driver and a pair of students huddled over a shared textbook – crisscrossing the floor like a lazily woven web.

Yooyeon slid into the leather seat, the dark fabric of her coat rustling. She looked out of place in the kitschy diner, yet as she pulled off her beret and let her dark hair fall over her shoulders, she looked more human than Mayu had ever seen her. Less of a princess of darkness, and more like a student trying to unwind.

“Two strawberry milkshakes, please,” Mayu told the approaching waitress, not even checking the menu. She knew this place by heart, from all her visits with Kotone and the others. “And a side of fries,” she giggled, glancing at Yooyeon, “The salty-sweet combo is the only way to recover from a party like that.”

As the waitress scurried away, Yooyeon leaned back, her eyes fixed on the salt shaker. The fire she had shown on the porch was gone, replaced by a weary, contemplative stillness.

“He was exactly like him,” Yooyeon said abruptly.

Mayu paused, her hand halfway to her chin. “The guy at the party?”

“No. My ex.” Yooyeon finally looked up, her gaze steady but heavy with a memory she clearly didn't visit often.

The Japanese girl’s eyes widened, “But… I thought you said…”

She chuckled, “I said no girlfriend, didn’t say anything about a boyfriend… You asked earlier why I was so defensive,” she started, gaze hardening, “It’s because I spent two years with a man who thought love was something you could optimize with a spreadsheet. He was a PhD candidate in Economics – brilliant, or so everyone said. But to him, my emotions were just…” her jaw tightened, “Variables that didn't fit into his equations.”

Mayu felt a pang in her chest. She watched Yooyeon’s hands – still bare, still untethered by any crimson thread – as they toyed with a napkin. Mayu eyed the motion, and something in her chest ached as she reached out, a hand gently clasping over Yooyeon’s her touch closer to a ghostly suggestion, but enough to calm her. “Yooyeon… if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine…” she mumbled, “But… But I am here to help, so… so don’t be afraid either.”

The older girl only nodded. The air remained quiet, and the waitress returned with their food. After she left, Yooyeon took a sip of her milkshake, and sighed.

“He used to call my interests ‘intellectual clutter,’” Yooyeon continued, her voice devoid of its usual sharp edge. “He told me that romance was a social construct designed to keep people from being productive. And because I was young, and because I wanted to be as smart as everyone thought I was,” she shook her head, a sad laugh leaving her that left a painful squeeze in Mayu’s chest, “I believed him. I tried to be the perfect, logical partner. I stopped looking for butterflies and started looking for ‘efficiency.’”

“That sounds exhausting,” Mayu whispered.

“It was soul-crushing,” Yooyeon agreed, nodding. “When we broke up, he told me I was ‘statistically unlikely’ to find someone who could keep up with my academic rigor and my public image,” she almost spat, “He made me feel like I was a problem to be solved rather than a person to be loved. For a long time, I thought he was right. I thought maybe I was just… defective. Built without the capacity for that ‘pull’ Jinsol talks about.”

Condensation built along the frigid beverage beside Mayu, but she made no effort to drink it yet. She thought to Yooyeon’s lack of string, but something lit within her chest. “You’re not defective, Yooyeon,” Mayu stated firmly. “That guy was just an idiot who got too obsessed with algorithms and numbers he started acting like a robot.”

Yooyeon gave a small, sad laugh. “Maybe. But after him, I just… stopped trying,” she admitted.

Mayu nodded, and a realisation dawned on her, “Is this around the time…” she started, “Your social media took off?”

The older girl nodded, “I dove into my studies. I built the ‘It-Girl’ brand because it was easier to be admired from a distance than to be misunderstood up close,” she sighed, shoulders drooping, “It was… a shield, at a much needed point in my life…”

The Japanese girl tilted her head, “But…?”

“...But then I saw Jinsol and Haseul,” she took another sip of her drink, “I saw the way Jinsol looked at her, like she’s found the center of the universe already, and I see it in everyone else too. Even all the people I interviewed – Sohyun and Xinyu, those girls Lily and Haewon you pushed together, that professor and her now fiancee… I couldn’t escape it,” she muttered, “I always used to read romance books when I was younger, used to always dream of that. I thought they were behind me, but…”

“But they’re not,” Mayu finished, all too aware.

The Korean girl nodded, “I realized I’m tired of being on an island, Mayu. I want to feel that. I want to know what it’s like to have the world stop moving because the right person looked at you.”

Mayu’s grasp on Yooyeon tightened by a fraction. She wanted so badly to tell her about the strings. She wanted to explain that she could see the very thing Yooyeon was looking for, but the words felt like lead in her mouth. How could she tell this girl, who was finally opening up about her fear of being unlovable, that the magic threads of fate simply didn't exist for her?

“I have a confession too,” Mayu said, her voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.

Yooyeon tilted her head, her dark eyes curious. “Is it about how your matchmaking works?” At Mayu’s confusion, Yooyeon’s cheeks tinted warm, “I… I assumed it’d be that, after that guy said what he did.”

Mayu smiled weakly. “People always wonder how it works… some people think I’m some sort of shaman, but really, it’s…” She thought of the strings, of the ridiculousness of it all, and hummed, “I usually call it… an instinct. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been able to ‘sense’ connections.”

Technically, not a lie, just not the entire truth, “It’s not logic, and it’s not psychology. It’s like…” She picked up her milkshake, finally letting the cold liquid run down her throat as she thought over her words. “A song I can hear playing between two people. When it’s right, the music is loud and clear. When it’s not, it’s just silence.”

Yooyeon listened intently, her skepticism seemingly forgotten in the dim light of the diner. “And Jinsol? You heard her song?”

“The second I saw her and Haseul in the same room, it was like a symphony,” Mayu said, a genuine smile breaking through her anxiety. “It’s never been wrong, Yooyeon. Not once. I’ve helped so many people find their matches because I just… know where the music is leading.”

Mayu took a breath, the cold weight of her secret pressing against her ribs. “But there’s a catch. My instinct… it doesn't work on me…” She admitted, glancing down, eyes slightly glistening. “I can’t hear my own music. I’m like a radio that can tune into every station except its own.”

She looked into Yooyeon’s eyes, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm. “And Yooyeon… I don’t hear it for you, either.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Mayu braced herself. She expected Yooyeon to pull away. She expected the cold girl from the smoothie shop to return, colder than the winter air outside, mocking her for her broken gift, accusing her of wasting her time. She expected Yooyeon to think that Mayu was a fraud who had taken her money and her hope while knowing she was a lost cause.

But Yooyeon didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, her expression shifting into something soft, something profoundly tender, a slight frown on her lips. “You don’t hear anything?” Yooyeon asked softly.

“Nothing,” Mayu admitted, a tear escaping and trailing down her cheek, sniffling as she glanced down again. “I look at you, and it’s just… quiet, like me. That’s why I’ve been trying this ‘old-fashioned’ way, because…” she sighed, shaky, “Because I’m failing you. I’m supposed to be this great matchmaker, but when it comes to you, I’m as blind as anyone else…”

“Then why…” Yooyeon asked, her tone soft and a whisper, “Why did you say yes to help me?”

“Because you asked,” Mayu answered, honest, “And because I wanted to believe I could find it for you anyway, but… I felt like I was lying to you every time I introduced you to someone.”

Mayu waits for it, waits for Yooyeon to run out of her seat, for her to treat Mayu like some horrible person. Instead, Yooyeon reached out, her long fingers gently wiping the tear from Mayu’s face. Her touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through Mayu that had nothing to do with fate. “Mayu,” Yooyeon whispered. “You think I’d be mad about that?”

“Aren't you?” Mayu sniffled. “I’m useless to you.”

Yooyeon chuckled, “You’re the most useful person I’ve ever met,” Yooyeon said, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t seem to know this, but… with the exception of Jinsol, everyone else in my life likes me because of what I can do for them, or because of how I look. But you… you looked at me, saw ‘nothing’, and you still chose to stay,” she smiled, and Mayu’s cheeks gree warm, “You spent your Friday night at a terrible party, pushing me toward other people, trying to build a campfire for me because you thought I was cold.”

Yooyeon squeezed Mayu’s hand, her grip firm and grounded. “That’s… kind, Mayu, kinder than someone like me deserves,” she tilted her head, “And it’s the most honest thing anyone has ever done for me in a while.”

Mayu blinked, her vision blurred by more tears. “You’re not… you don’t think I’m a scammer?”

“Not anymore,” she giggles, the sound melodic to Mayu’s ears, “I think you’re a girl who cares too much,” Yooyeon smiled, and it was a real one, the kind that reached her eyes and made the tiny fine lines at the corners crinkle. “If there’s no music for me, then that’s fine. Maybe my life is just meant to be a quiet one. But I’d rather be in the quiet with someone like you who tries than in a symphony with someone like my ex.”

Mayu felt a strange, dizzying sensation. For years, she had relied on the strings to tell her what was real. She had trusted the red glow more than her own heart. But sitting here, in a sticky booth with a girl whose fate was a total mystery, she realized that the strings didn't matter.

She didn't need a red thread to tell her that Yooyeon was beautiful. She didn't need a glow to tell her that she felt safe in this booth. “So,” Yooyeon said, finally picking up her spoon and pointing it at the strawberry milkshake. “If your ‘instinct’ is broken, what’s the next move, Matchmaker?”

Mayu wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, a small, shaky laugh escaping her. “Well, I still have a few ideas. There’s a cat cafe opening downtown next week, and I hear the owner is looking for someone to help with their marketing. She’s very single, and she’s a Bio-major.”

Yooyeon groaned, but there was a playful spark in her eyes. “More Bio-majors? You’re really trying to kill me, aren't you?”

“It’s a process!” Mayu defended, finally taking a sip of her own drink. “And hey, you said you wanted a campfire. Building a fire takes time.”

“Then keep building, Mayu,” Yooyeon said, her gaze lingering on Mayu’s lips for a second too long before she turned her attention to the fries. “I’m not in any rush.”

As they sat there, eating salty fries and drinking melting milkshakes, talking about everything and nothing, the world outside the diner continued its frantic, fated dance. The red strings continued to pull and tug, guiding people toward their predetermined ends. But inside the booth, in the quiet space where the strings didn't reach, something else was beginning to grow – something messy, unscripted, and entirely their own.

Mayu looked at Yooyeon and felt a different kind of pull. It wasn't a tug on her pinky finger. It was a tug on her soul.

=====

The pavement was slick with a fresh coat of evening rain, reflecting the neon signs of downtown like a blurred oil painting. Mayu walked briskly, her scarf tucked high against the biting wind, while Kotone trotted alongside her, trying to keep up with Mayu’s determined pace.

“You’re doing it again,” Kotone said, her voice breathy from the exercise.

Mayu didn’t look up from her phone, where she was double-checking the reservation details. “Doing what?”

“The ‘Mayu Special’,” Kotone joked, elbowing her friend, “That focused frantic humming you do when you’re thinking too hard,” she nodded towards her friend’s phone, “Also, you’ve checked that reservation four times in the last three blocks. I’m pretty sure the table at the bistro isn’t going to spontaneously combust before you get there.”

Mayu finally sighed, shoving her phone into her coat pocket. “I just want tonight to go well…” She mumbled as Kotone’s gaze softened, “Yooyeon’s been through five dates in three weeks, Kotone, five! And each time, every single one of them has ended with a polite handshake and her looking like the most bored person on the planet.”

Kotone nodded, tilting her head, “Maybe because she’s spending all her time between those dates with you,” the younger girl pointed out, swinging her bag. “No seriously, Mayu. You two went to the botanical gardens on Tuesday to ‘scout out a date spot’, that indie cinema on Thursday because Yooyeon’s date cancelled on her and she really wanted to see that movie, and Jinsol told me you were at Yooyeon’s dorm until midnight on Sunday helping her ‘reorganize her color-coded bookshelf’.”

The older girl felt her cheeks grow warm, “Well–”

“Since when does a matchmaking contract include interior design services?” Kotone asked, hands thrown into the air, and Mayu felt a hot prickle of defensiveness.

“It’s part of the process! Yooyeon is…” She mumbled, thinking of the bright smile she saw in the diner and at her dorm, “She’s a unique case. I’ve never dealt with someone without strings before, Tone,” she huffed, folding her arms, “Since I can’t see where her string is supposed to go, I have to understand every single facet of her personality to find a manual match,” she explained, waving a hand in a circular motion, “The bookshelf was… research.”

“Research,” Kotone repeated, her tone dry enough to parch the air. “Right. And the fact that you haven’t taken on a single new client since she walked into that cafe? Is that research too?” Mayu froze, and Kotone raised a brow, “Usually, you’re juggling three soulmate-searches and a frantic freshman’s unrequited crush. Now? It’s all Kim Yooyeon, all the time.”

Mayu stopped at the street corner, waiting for the light to change. To her eyes, the intersection was a tangled forest of crimson. Red threads stretched across the asphalt, weaving between cars and pedestrians, a chaotic symphony of destiny that she usually found comforting. But when she thought about Yooyeon, she felt a strange, quiet stillness in her chest that the strings couldn't touch her.

“It’s just because she’s difficult,” Mayu insisted, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. “She’s the most popular girl on campus, there’s a lot of pressure to get it right. If I fail her, it’s not just a missed match,” she muttered, waiting for the light to change, “It’s a failure of my entire philosophy. I’m proving that even without a string, I can find her a person to come to, and if I can’t do that, then…” Her hand clenched, and she sighed, “Then that means there’s definitely not one for me either.”

Kotone softened, reaching out to squeeze Mayu’s shoulder. “Just be careful, Mayu. Sometimes I get worried you’re a little too invested in this,” she admitted, mumbling, “And you’ll get hurt for it.”

The light turned green. Mayu gave her friend a hurried, distracted smile. “I’ll see you back at the dorm. Wish me luck. Tonight’s guy is a grad student in Linguistics,” she beamed, “He’s charming, he’s stable, and most importantly, he’s a great listener,” she listed off each quality with a finger.

“Good luck,” Kotone called out, though she watched Mayu walk away with a look of deep skepticism. “You’re going to need it.”

La Rouge was a bistro that whispered ‘sophistication’ with its dim amber lighting, red walls and velvet-upholstered booths. Mayu arrived ten minutes early, securing a small, inconspicuous table in the far corner of the mezzanine. From here, she had a perfect bird’s-eye view of the entrance and Table 16 – the one she had reserved for Yooyeon and her date.

She saw Yooyeon arrive first. Even from a distance, the girl was breathtaking. She wore a deep emerald silk blouse that made her dark hair look like liquid ink. She looked like royalty, someone so untouchable you could only dream of having her, but as she scanned the room, her eyes didn’t linger on the entrance or the maître d’. They darted toward the mezzanine.

Mayu gave a small, subtle wave from her hiding spot. Yooyeon’s posture immediately relaxed, a tiny, genuine smile ghosting across her lips before she turned back to be led to her table.

A few minutes later, the date arrived, the Linguistics student. To Mayu’s eyes, the date had a bright, sturdy red string tied to his pinky, trailing out the restaurant door and toward the east side of campus. He wasn’t Yooyeon’s soulmate – Mayu knew that – but he was a ‘good man’, and who knows! Maybe the strings would happen to change. On paper, he was everything Yooyeon had asked for: grounded, intelligent, and entirely unimpressed by her social media status.

Mayu pulled out a small notebook, pretending to study for her exams, but her eyes were fixed on Table 16.

The date began, and as the boy talked, Yooyeon listened, and whenever the boy laughed Yooyeon would smile. To any outsider, it looked like a perfect first date, complete with amicable conversation and great food. But Mayu was an expert in the ‘pull’, in observing her clients. She watched the way Yooyeon leaned back in her chair, the way her fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass, never truly engaging.

Yooyeon was playing the part of the ‘It-Girl’ – composed, polite, and utterly unreachable.

Thirty minutes in, Mayu found herself feeling a strange, bitter taste in her mouth. She should have been rooting for Yooyeon’s date. She should have been hoping that, despite the lack of a string, a spark would ignite, maybe fate would realign. But every time the boy reached across the table to emphasize a point, Mayu felt a sharp, irrational spike of annoyance.

He’s talking too much about himself, Mayu thought, her pen digging into the paper. He hasn’t asked her about her favorite hidden spot in the library yet, where the conversation seemed too distant, and she was left alone with her thoughts. He doesn’t know she hates the sound of metal spoons hitting ceramic, or how she can’t cook to save her life. He didn’t know she liked malatang and sushi, or that sleeping was apparently a hobby of hers, or that her English name was Pizza Kim. He’s missing everything.

She caught herself and blinked. Since when did she care about the nuances of Yooyeon’s likes and dislikes? Since when did she become the authority on what Yooyeon deserved? She shook her head, Stay professional.

Down at the table, something changed. Yooyeon checked her watch – a subtle move, but one Mayu recognized as the ‘emergency exit’ signal, a signal that the date was over, and she wasn’t a huge fan. Her date looked confused as Yooyeon spoke a few words, signaled for the check, and stood up. It was the fastest date yet.

Mayu ducked her head, her heart racing. She expected Yooyeon to head for the exit, and for her to subtly follow afterwards, but instead, she heard the soft click-clack of heels on the mezzanine stairs. She glanced over, watching a confused guy leave the bistro, and a moment later, the scent of vanilla and expensive perfume filled the air. Yooyeon slid into the seat opposite Mayu, looking remarkably refreshed for someone who had just ditched a perfectly nice man.

“He was… okay,” Yooyeon said, leaning her chin on her hand.

“You were supposed to stay for the main course,” Mayu whispered, looking around to make sure the guy had truly left the premises, before raising her voice to a normal volume. “What happened? He’s a linguistics genius! He speaks four languages! I thought… I thought you’d be into that.”

“And all four of them were used to describe his thesis on Proto-Indo-European phonology,” Yooyeon sighed, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Two or three is plenty, four is just showing off…” Her gaze softened as Mayu pouted.

“I really thought he’d be the one…” She mumbled, slightly dejected, and Yooyeon chuckled.

“He’s a lovely person, Mayu, truly,” she shook her head, “But I found myself wondering halfway through the appetizer if the fries you ordered up here were better than the escargot he was trying to convince me to eat.”

Mayu felt her face heat up. “I didn’t order fries.”

“Not yet, but you were thinking about it,” she smirked, “I can see your ‘snack face’ from a mile away,” Yooyeon reached across the small table, her fingers brushing against Mayu’s notebook. “Why are you hiding up here? You didn’t need to stay, besides, you look like a very stressed private investigator.”

The Japanese girl giggles at the remark, “I’m monitoring!” Mayu insisted. “I told you, this is a manual process, I…” She cleared her throat, catching the way Yooyeon looked at her, “I need to observe the chemistry.”

“There was no chemistry,” Yooyeon said simply. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to that soft, intimate register that always made Mayu’s skin tingle. “Do you want to know why?”

Mayu swallowed hard. “Why?”

“Because he wasn't funny,” Yooyeon said, shrugging, “He didn't make me want to argue with him, I didn’t feel like I’d enjoy teasing him, he didn't notice smaller things,” she hummed, “Like the beret I was wearing, if he asked, he would’ve found out I bought it when you and I went to that vintage market last weekend. I don’t know if he’s full of himself or just didn’t think to ask, but…” she sighed, shaking her head, “He wasn’t the observant person I’m looking for. He was just… a guy at a table.”

She paused, her gaze locking onto Mayu’s. The amber light of the restaurant turned Yooyeon’s dark eyes into pools of gold. “You’re far more fun to talk to, Mayu,” she smiled, soft, “Even when you’re lecturing me about ‘putting myself in the path of the universe’, I found myself sitting there, wishing he would stop talking so I could come up here and ask you what you actually thought of the movie we saw on Thursday.”

At that moment, a strange, violent flutter erupted in Mayu’s chest. It wasn't the ‘warm, pleasant’ butterflies Yooyeon had described Jinsol feeling. It was sharper, more like the frantic beat of a bird’s wings against a cage, angered, begging to be let out and to soar through the air. It was a sensation of falling and rising all at once, a physical reaction to the way Yooyeon was looking at her, with such tenderness Mayu didn’t know what to do with.

The Japanese girl looked down at her notebook, her vision blurring. She searched for the strings across the floor – the familiar, safe red threads that told her who belonged where. She remembered the string the date had as he walked out of the restaurant, alone but destined for someone else. She saw the waiter’s string, she saw the couple at the next table over.

But between her and Yooyeon, there was still nothing. Just the empty, cold air of the mezzanine.

It’s not real, Mayu told herself, her heart hammering against her ribs. The flutter isn't destiny. It’s just… adrenaline. Or the coffee – I don't have a string for her. She doesn't have a string for me. It’s impossible.

“Mayu?” Yooyeon’s voice was gentle, concerned. “You’ve gone very quiet.”

“I’m just… disappointed,” Mayu lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “I really thought this guy was the one. I’m failing you, Yooyeon. We’re six dates in and we’re back to square one.”

Yooyeon didn't pull her hand back. In fact, she moved it slightly, her thumb grazing the back of Mayu’s knuckles. It was a tiny movement, but it felt like an earthquake. “We’re not at square one,” Yooyeon said softly. “I think I’m finally starting to understand the ‘pull’ we’re so obsessed with finding,” she hummed, “I’m just… wondering, maybe it just isn't coming from where we think it is.”

Mayu pulled her hand away, feigning a need to pack her things. “I should get going. Kotone’s waiting for me. We’ll… we’ll try again next week. I’ll look into that mathematics student who called you cute one time. Or maybe that art student Jinsol mentioned.”

Yooyeon watched her, her expression unreadable. “If that’s what you want, Mayu.”

“It’s what the process requires,” Mayu said, her voice trembling slightly.

As she stood up and hurried toward the stairs, Mayu didn't look back. She couldn't. If she looked back, she was afraid she would see something even more terrifying than a missing string. She was afraid she would see a choice.

She walked out into the cold night air, the ‘flutter’ in her chest refusing to subside. She looked at the red strings of the city, desperate for their guidance, for their rigid, unchangeable rules. But for the first time in her life, the strings felt like a cage, and the lonely girl sitting back at Table 16 felt like the only place she could breathe.

I’m a professional, Mayu whispered to herself, her breath hitching in the wind. I’m a matchmaker, and matchmakers don’t fall for the girl with no destiny.

But as she walked, she couldn't help but notice that her own hand felt cold, precisely in the spot where Yooyeon’s thumb had touched it, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the silence between them was starting to sound a lot like a song.

=====

The week that followed was a blur of increasingly desperate attempts to ignore the laws of the universe.

Mayu had spent hours scouring her mental and digital database of eligible singles, pushing Yooyeon toward an architecture student with a penchant for poetry, or a pre-med girl who volunteered at animal shelters. Each time, Mayu stayed away, following Kotone’s advice to ‘give the chemistry room to breathe’. Plus, this way, Mayu wouldn’t have to see Yooyeon going on dates with people already bound by fate to someone else. Maybe the next time Mayu would see her, a red string would be connecting Yooyeon to someone.

But it never happens, because each time, the result was the same: a brief, polite text from Yooyeon saying it was ‘fine but lacking’, and Mayu dove back into finding someone else.

Now, Mayu sat on the floor of her dorm room, staring blankly at a hand of cards. It was boardgame night – a rare occasion where Kotone’s girlfriend, Jiyeon, joined them.

The room was cozy, lit by the warm glow of string lights and the blue flicker of a lo-fi study girl stream on the monitor. To Mayu’s eyes, the room was also a testament to the absolute certainty of fate. Mayu didn’t let her eyes linger on the red strings, all too aware of how Kotone would likely snap at her over it, yet, she could still see the red glows in the corner of her vision. The knowledge Kotone and Jiyeon at least had them, that the universe hadn’t forgotten them like it had her.

“Mayu, it’s your turn,” Jiyeon said, offering a kind smile. “Unless you’re planning to win by staring at the deck until it surrenders.”

“I’m thinking,” Mayu lied, pulling a random card, mentally already checked out.

“You’re pining,” Kotone corrected, not even looking up from her own hand. “You’ve been checking your phone every three minutes. If Yooyeon hasn't called you yet, it means she’s actually having a good time at that party you sent her to.”

Mayu huffed, adjusting her position on the rug. “I’m not pining, I’m… waiting for a report,” she huffs, “It’s a professional obligation.”

“Professional,” Jiyeon giggled, leaning her head on Kotone’s shoulder. The red string on her finger shimmered, responding to the affection. “You’ve been talking about her for two hours, Mayu. Even the 'professional' excuse is starting to wear thin.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Kotone jokes, “Seriously, it’s always about how cute Yooyeon’s smile is and ‘how lucky her future girlfriend’ will be. Aigoo…” She shakes her head, earning a giggle from Jiyeon. Before the blue-haired girl could mount a defense, her phone buzzed against the hardwood floor. She practically lunged for it, her heart doing a frantic somersault.

[Incoming Call: Yooyeon-ie]

Mayu’s thumb swiped the screen before she could even think. “Yooyeon? Is everything okay?” Sensing the other’s eyes on her, she put the girl to speaker, concerned. “How’s the party? Did you talk to the girl I told you about?”

There was a moment of static, followed by the muffled thumping of bass and the shrill sound of someone laughing in the background. Then, a voice that was uncharacteristically slurred and soft.

“Mayu-ya…”

Mayu froze. The softness to her voice, the smile that could easily be heard, caught Mayu entirely off guard. She coughs, clearing her throat. “Yooyeon? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m… I’m in a bush,” Yooyeon whispered, and Mayu could hear the cold wind whistling through the speaker. Mayu can see Kotone raising a brow, and she sighs, “The party is loud, and the girl… she was nice. She liked my beret… But she wasn't you.”

Mayu’s breath hitched. Across the room, Kotone and Jiyeon went silent, watching her with wide eyes. Mayu turns the call off speaker mode, pressing it to her ears as she slowly stands, reaching for her cardigan. “Are you drunk?”

“Mmm. A little bit,” she giggles, with the rustling of leaves in the background, “Jinsol kept giving me these ‘special’ drinks because she said I looked too serious,” Yooyeon giggled louder, a sound that was light and dangerously sweet, but her tone then shifted into a vulnerable whisper. “I don't like it here, Mayu. Can you… Can you come get me? I don't want to call a taxi,” Mayu can imagine the pout, “Taxis are scary.”

“I’m coming,” Mayu answers, scrambling to her feet, “Stay exactly where you are. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“Okay, don’t worry, the bush is very comfy,” Yooyeon breathed. “I’ll wait for the song.”

Mayu hung up, glancing at the others as she picked up her keys. “I have to go.”

“We gathered that,” Kotone said, standing up to help Mayu find her shoes. “Is she alright?”

“She’s drunk and alone on a porch in the middle of February,” Mayu said, her hands shaking as she zipped her jacket. “I should have gone with her. I shouldn't have listened to you about giving her space.”

“Yeah yeah…” Kotone pats Mayu’s shoulders, and when Mayu looks up, she spots Jiyeon in the corner, offering a smile.

“Mayu, go,” Jiyeon said gently. “Drive safe.”

***

The drive to the off-campus house was a blur of streetlights and red strings. Mayu steered her small, secondhand car through the intersection, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. When she pulled up to the curb, she saw the campus’ most popular girl sitting, very much, in a bush, wrapped in her expensive coat, looking like a lost child as she looked around.

Mayu killed the engine and ran to her. “Yooyeon!”

The older girl looked up, her eyes glazed but brightening instantly at the sight of her. “Mayu!” She tried to stand but stumbled, and Mayu was there in a second, catching her by the waist.

Yooyeon didn't pull away, softly giggling. Instead, she leaned her entire weight into Mayu, her face tucking into the crook of Mayu’s neck. She smelled like expensive gin and the crisp, fresh scent of snow. “You came,” Yooyeon murmured, her hands fumbling to grip the back of Mayu’s jacket. “I knew you would. You’re very… reliable.”

“Let’s get you home,” Mayu whispered, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure Yooyeon could feel it against her chest. Getting her into the passenger seat was a struggle of tangled limbs and giggles. Once buckled in, Yooyeon didn't lean back. She shifted as far as the seatbelt would allow, her head resting against the window so she could stare at Mayu while she drove.

The heater hummed, filling the small space with warmth. The silence of the car was a stark contrast to the thumping party they had left behind.

“Mayu?” Yooyeon said, her voice soft and airy.

“Yeah?”

“Are we friends?”

When they stop at a red light, Mayu glanced sideways, caught by the sheer earnestness in Yooyeon’s expression. There was an almost shimmering quality to her eyes, and it made Mayu’s throat dry up. “Of course we are, Yooyeon,” she manages to say, offering one of her usual smiles, “Why would you ask that?”

Yooyeon pouted, her bottom lip quivering slightly. “Because you keep trying to give me away.” she sniffles, “Every week, you find someone new and you say, ‘Look, Yooyeon, here’s a person you should like, go on, go!’” She mumbles dramatically, before sighing, “It’s like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Mayu said, her throat tightening. The light turns green, and she drives off again. “I’m trying to help you find your soulmate. That’s what you hired me for.”

“I don't think I have one of those,” Yooyeon whispered, her eyes fluttering shut and then open again. “I think the universe forgot about me. But it’s okay.” She reached out, her hand wandering blindly until her fingers found Mayu’s arm, squeezing the fabric of her sleeve. “Because I have you. You’re the prettiest, kindest friend I’ve ever had. Did I tell you that?”

Mayu’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “You’re just drunk, Yooyeon.”

“I am drunk,” Yooyeon agreed, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. “But even when I’m sober, I still think about it. I looked at you in the diner, and I thought, ‘Wow, Mayu is so patient.’ I look at you when you’re ‘monitoring’ me, and I think you look like a cute little rabbit…” Mayu’s movements become minute, as though anything sudden would break whatever dream she was in, “Every date I go, I can’t help but think how they’re nothing like you…”

She let out a soft, contented sigh, her head lulling back against the headrest. “I’m glad there’s no string, Mayu-ya,” she smiles, “Strings are for people who don't know how to choose, and let destiny choose for them. I choose to be your friend. I choose to… to…”

Within minutes, her breathing evened out into the deep, rhythmic pattern of sleep.

Mayu drove the rest of the way in a state of quiet devastation. She reached Yooyeon’s dorm and sat there for a long time, watching the rise and fall of the other girl’s shoulders. She looked down at Yooyeon’s hand, still resting near Mayu’s arm.

She looked for the string. She begged the universe, just this once, to show her even a fraying thread, a tiny spark of crimson that would justify the way her heart was breaking.

There was nothing.

The void was absolute.

Mayu eventually managed to wake Yooyeon enough to get her upstairs. She tucked her into bed, placed a glass of water and some aspirin on the nightstand, and lingered by the door. In the dim light of the dorm room, Yooyeon looked peaceful, the sharp edges of her popular girl persona softened by sleep.

Mayu walked out, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. As she paced back to her car, the cold night air felt like needles against her skin. She looked up at the sky, then at the hundreds of red strings crisscrossing the campus. They were beautiful. They were a promise. They were a map to a happy ending.

A happy ending she was never allowed to have.

I like her, Mayu thought, the realization finally crashing down on her, undeniable and cruel. I actually like her.

But as a matchmaker, she knew the truth better than anyone. You could choose a friend, and you could choose a partner, but you couldn't choose a destiny. Without that red thread, without that divine and mystical seal of approval, whatever she felt for Yooyeon was just a temporary flicker in a dark room. She wasn't just a girl falling for another girl – she was a girl falling for a ghost in the system.

Mayu got into her car, rested her forehead against the steering wheel, and let out a shaky, broken breath. The silence of the car was no longer comforting. It was a reminder of the nothing she had seen so many times.

“It’s not meant to be,” she whispered to the empty passenger seat.

And for the first time in her life, Mayu hated the strings for being right.

=====

For three days, Mayu lived in a world of silence and static.

She had retreated into the safety of her routines, but the routines felt hollow. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart underwent a violent, agonizing skip before she saw the name on the screen and shoved the device under her pillow.

Yooyeon-ie: Are you awake? I wanted to talk about the other night.

Yooyeon-ie: Mayu? Are you busy? I’m near the library, want to get tea?

Yooyeon-ie: Did I say something wrong when I was drunk? Please talk to me.

Mayu didn't answer. How could she? Every word Yooyeon spoke, drunk or sober, was a thread weaving a tapestry that Mayu knew had no foundation. It felt as though the campfire she had once tried to kindle would now burn her if she added anymore firewood. It was kinder, she told herself, to lock the door now.

"You're going to burn a hole in that textbook if you keep glaring at it," Kotone hummed, lounging on the beanbag with her laptop. Mayu herself was on the couch. "For the record, your phone has been vibrating so much it’s actually migrating across the floor."

"I'm studying, Kotone," Mayu snapped, her voice uncharacteristically sharp, though she did pull her phone back towards her.

"Right,” she tilted her head up, catching the page number before Mayu tucked the book closer towards her, “Page forty-two, the same page you’ve been stuck on since yesterday. It must be a very complex… title…” Mayu’s eyes widened, and when she glanced down, she realised she had, in fact, been stuck rereading the title page of a new section in the textbook, and her cheeks grew warm, already flicking to another page.

That was when she caught sight of another message across her screen.

Yooyeon-ie: I know you’re avoiding me. I’m here.

The doorbell rang.

Mayu froze. A cold dread washed over her as Kotone glanced up. "Don't," she whispered.

"Don't what? Open the door to our own dorm?" Kotone rolled her eyes, standing up, chuckling lightly. "It's probably just the delivery guy with the pizza Jiyeon ordered – she said she’d be here in like ten minutes, by the way…"

"Kotone, wait–" But it was too late. Kotone pulled the door open, and the pizza guy turned out to be a very intimidating, very determined girl in a charcoal overcoat, her breath hitching in the hallway's warmth.

"Oh," Kotone said, her eyebrows shooting up. "Hey, Yooyeon."

"Is she here?" Yooyeon asked, her voice tight. She didn't wait for an answer; she stepped past Kotone as though she were a resident, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Mayu, who was currently trying to make herself as small as possible on the couch.

"I'll just... go check on that pizza…” Kotone muttered, sensing the sudden, atmospheric shift in the room. She shot Mayu a look that said 'Deal with this' and slipped out, closing the door behind her, and hiding out in the hallway.

The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of the dorm’s radiator and the quiet click of the door closing. Yooyeon didn't move, instead standing in the center of the small living area, looking at Mayu with an expression that was equal parts hurt and fury.

"Three days," Yooyeon said, her tone as cold as when Mayu first met her all that while ago. "I called you twelve times. I sent twenty texts. I even went to that diner thinking I’d find you there,” there was an extra layer of hurt to that sentence, and suddenly the sweetness of the cold milkshake was so far away.

"I've been busy, Yooyeon," Mayu said, her voice small. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Busy?” She scoffed, Mayu’s shoulders drawing inward, “Jinsol said she saw you walking to the convenience store yesterday looking like you hadn't slept in a week, and I think she’s right,” her eyes no doubt lingered on the dark circles under Mayu’s eyes, “You're not busy, Mayu. You're hiding," Yooyeon took a step closer, invading Mayu’s personal bubble.

“I…” The smaller girl starts, now standing. “Yooyeon…” the words died on her tongue, and she looked toward the ground.

Yooyeon sighed, glancing toward the side, before returning her eyes to Mayu. "Was it the drunk stuff? I remember most of it, you know,” her hand clenched into a fist at her side, “I know I was clingy, I know I said things that... that were a lot,” she admitted, cheeks rosy, “But I thought we were friends, I thought we were past the ‘client-matchmaker’ relationship, and all that other professionalist shit."

"We are friends," Mayu whispered.

"Then why are you shutting me out?" Yooyeon’s voice never raised in volume, but it cracked, as did Mayu’s heart. "I don't have many friends, Mayu. I have people who follow me, and people who want to be me, and people who want to date this perfect person, but I don't have people who come get me out of a bush at 2 AM. I thought you…” Her eyes closed, before opening again, “I thought we were different."

Mayu finally looked up, her eyes stinging. "I am different! That's the problem!"

Yooyeon stopped, her brow furrowing. "What is that supposed to mean? If this is about you liking me–"

Mayu’s heart stopped. "What?"

"I'm not stupid, Mayu," Yooyeon said, her gaze softening just a fraction. "I saw the way you looked at me at the party, at the diner, at my dorm… I felt the way your heart was beating when you carried me to the car, and I know you felt it too. When I said those things... about choosing you…” She sighed, voice softer than Mayu wished it was, “I meant them. Even drunk, I meant them."

She reached out, as if to take Mayu’s hand, but Mayu flinched back, her back hitting the wall.

"I do like you," Mayu confessed, the words feeling like shards of glass in her throat. "I like you so much it hurts to breathe in the same room as you… I like you so much that I can’t stop thinking about you even when you’re not around…” A slow, small smile grows on Yooyeon’s face, but it dropped at Mayu’s next words, “But we can't be together, Yooyeon. It’s impossible."

"Why?" Yooyeon demanded, her frustration boiling over. "Because of some 'logic'? Because of your ‘reputation’ as the matchmaker? Who cares what the campus thinks?"

"Because of the strings!" Mayu screamed.

The outburst echoed in the small room. Yooyeon froze, her hand hanging in the air.

"The strings?" she repeated, confused.

Mayu was shaking now, her secret finally clawing its way out of her chest. She stood up, her movements frantic. "You asked me once how I do it, how I'm never wrong,” she inhaled, sharp, “I said it was an instinct, or psychology, but it’s not."

The Japanese girl pointed to her own eyes, tears finally spilling over. "I see them, Yooyeon. Every person on this campus, every person in this city... they have a red thread tied to their finger. I can see who they belong to,” she sniffled, “I saw Jinsol’s string lead to Haseul before they even spoke. I saw Sohyun’s string lead to Xinyu. I see the world as a map of love, and I am the only one who can read it."

Yooyeon stared at her, her expression unreadable. "You... you see strings."

"Yes! A-And I look at you, Yooyeon... and there is nothing,” Mayu stepped toward her, desperate for her to understand. "There is no string on your hand, there is no string on mine. When I look at the space between us, it’s… empty, so… painfully empty,” she chokes back a sob, “The universe didn't put us together, we aren't 'meant to be.' If we try... if we do this... it will just be a mistake,” Yooyeon’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across them, “A… a glitch before the world corrects itself and finds you someone who actually has a thread for you."

Yooyeon didn't back away. If anything, she looked more grounded than ever, stepping closer. "So that's it? You're letting a bunch of... of imaginary ghost-yarn tell you who you can love?"

"They aren't imaginary!" Mayu sobbed. "They're real! They've never been wrong! Every match I've made, every couple I've seen... the strings are absolute. They are the laws to all of this, and the law says it won't happen."

"Then the law is wrong," Yooyeon said firmly. She grabbed Mayu’s shoulders, forcing her to look at her, and there’s a faint smile on her face, as if trying to convince Mayu none of it mattered. "I don't care what you see, I don't care if the sky is painted with red lines. I am standing right here,” she emphasised with a squeeze, “I am a real person, with real feelings, and I am telling you that I choose you. Why…” She sniffled, “Why isn't that enough for you?"

"Because it won't last!" Mayu cried, pulling away. "Without the string, there’s no anchor. It’s just... it’s just that stupid campfire, a campfire that’s going to go out. I… I can't…” She cries, and Yooyeon still rubs her shoulder, soothing, “I can’t watch you realize one day that I'm not the one. I can't watch the music slowly grow quiet, I can’t do that to you or me."

Mayu pushed past Yooyeon, grabbing her jacket, her vision blurred by tears. She couldn't stay in this room. She couldn't look at the girl who was offering her everything while the universe offered her nothing.

"I'm sorry," Mayu whispered, darting past a stunned Yooyeon. "I'm so sorry. But I can't fight the universe for you."

"Mayu! Wait!"

Mayu ignored her, tearing the door open and sprinting into the hallway. She didn't stop until she hit the cool, damp air of the courtyard. She was gasping, her lungs burning, her mind a chaotic roar of red and black. She looks up, catching a stunned Jiyeon approaching from the distance, a red string trailing to–

"Mayu! Stop!" Another voice called out.

A hand caught her arm, spinning her around. It wasn't Yooyeon. It was Kotone, who had apparently been waiting nearby. "What the hell was that?" Kotone asked, her face pale. "Yooyeon is in there looking like she just watched her whole world collapse. Mayu, go back in there."

"I can't," Mayu choked out, shaking her head, “You don't understand, Tone. It's not meant to be. There’s no string."

"I don't give a damn about your strings!" Kotone shouted, shaking Mayu’s arm. "You're being an idiot! You found someone who actually sees you, not the 'Matchmaker,' and you're throwing it away because of some hocus-pocus?” Kotone’s eyes are wide with frustration, jaw tight, “Look at her, Mayu! She likes you so badly and you just–"

"Shut up!" Mayu screamed, her voice echoing off the brick walls.

Kotone recoiled, her eyes widening. Mayu had never yelled at her like this, not once.

"Just... shut up," Mayu rasped, her anger finally turning outward, sniffling. She pointed a trembling finger at Kotone’s hand. "You think it’s so easy? You think you can give me advice on 'choice'?"

Mayu’s eyes flashed with a bitter, painful light. "I’ve been watching you and Jiyeon for two years, Kotone. You want to know the truth? You want to know why I'm so sure?"

The older took a step forward, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You have a string. A thick, bright, perfectly tied red string. It’s been there since the day you met her,” she reveals, almost spitting out the words, “I saw it the moment you introduced me to her. You didn't 'choose' her, Kotone, the universe handed her to you on a silver platter. You’ve never had to wonder if you were making a mistake. You’ve never had to look at the person you love and see a void."

Kotone went completely still, her breath hitching. In the shadow of the doorway, Jiyeon appeared, her face a mask of shock and concern as she overheard the revelation. "You can't give me advice because you aren't me," Mayu said, tears streaming down her face as she backed away. "You have the music. You’ve always had it. I’m the only one who has to live in silence."

"Mayu, I–" Kotone started, her voice trembling.

"Don't," Mayu said, her heart hardening into a cold, jagged stone. "Just leave me alone. Both of you."

She turned and ran into the darkness, leaving her friends – and the girl she liked – standing in the wreckage of a destiny she refused to believe in.

=====

The river before was a dark, shimmering expanse, reflecting the neon heart of the industrial world in fractured ribs of light. From this distance, the red strings of the city were a dizzying, distant hum. Nothing more than a glowing web that tied millions of lives together in a tapestry Mayu had always thought she understood, yet lied outside of. But out here, sitting on a weathered wooden bench near the water’s edge, the air was cold enough to bite through her cardigan, and the silence was absolute.

Mayu stared at her hands. Her fingers looked pale and lonely in the moonlight. No glow, no tether, nothing more than skin and bone, untethered to the universe.

The sound of soft footsteps on the gravel path broke her trance. She didn't look up, even when the person sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. The scent of a familiar laundry detergent, the one used at her parents' house, wafted over her.

“Kotone texted me,” Lynn said softly. “She said you went out and took half the dorm with you.”

Mayu let out a jagged, humorless laugh. “I think I did more than that, Lynn,” she mumbles, head dipped, “I think I burned the bridge and then threw the ashes into the river.”

The younger of the two sisters nodded, before turning to look at the older girl. “Unnie… what happened?”

Mayu blinked, “So much.”

For the next twenty minutes, Mayu’s voice was the only sound against the lapping of the water. She poured it all out – the months of looking at Yooyeon and seeing nothing, the secret she’d carried since she was a child, the popular girl who wanted a campfire instead of a lightning strike, and the crushing weight of knowing that, by her own divine sight, they were a mistake.

She explained the explosion with Kotone, the bitterness she felt seeing everyone else’s destinies practically made for them, and the absolute, terrifying certainty that she was protecting Yooyeon by pushing her away.

When she finished, Mayu felt hollow, her throat raw. “I don't know what to do,” she whispered. “I’ve spent my whole life being the person who knows. For the first time, I’m the one who’s blind.”

Lynn remained quiet for a long moment, swinging her legs slightly, her string flickering up into the air, off into the distance. “Do you remember five years ago? When I was obsessed with that girl in my art class, Hina?”

Mayu nodded vaguely, “You asked me every day for a month if she was ‘the one.’”

“And you never told me,” Lynn said, a small smile playing on her lips, lightly smudging Mayu. “I’d beg you. I’d offer to do your chores for a year,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “I’d cry, and you’d just look at me with those sad, big eyes and tell me the same thing over and over… ‘Lynn, don't let rules you don’t understand govern your life.’” She imitated, “We dated for a bit after that, not long, though I think you knew that’s how it would’ve ended.”

Mayu flinched. “I remember.”

“I used to be so angry at you,” Lynn continued, watching over the river’s surface. “I thought you were being mean, I thought you were holding the key to my happiness and refusing to turn the lock,” she tilted her head, “But sitting here now, hearing you talk about Yooyeon… I finally get it. I understood it for a while, but more than ever now,” she glanced toward her sister, “You weren't being mean to me back then. You were trying to protect me from the thing that’s killing you right now.”

Lynn turned on the bench, tucking one leg under her so she could face her sister. “Unnie, look at me. Slowly, Mayu did. “You see the strings as a law, like gravity, or math. But have you ever considered that the reason you and Yooyeon don’t have them isn’t because you’re ‘broken’?”

“Then what is it?” Mayu asked, her voice trembling, “What is it if not that?”

“Maybe you’re the only ones who are actually free,” Lynn suggested. “Think about it. Kotone and Jiyeon? They’re beautiful together, sure, but according to you, they didn't have a choice. The universe decided for them before they were even born. They’re just following a script. But you and Yooyeon?” she smiled, placing a hand over her sister’s, “If you two walk into that diner, or sit in that bush, or go to that vintage market – that’s not a script, that’s a choice.”

The older girl’s eyes widened, and Lynn smiled, ever the saint, ever so patient. “Maybe that lack of a string isn't an absence of love, unnie. Maybe it’s an invitation.”

Mayu blinked, her tears pausing. “An invitation?”

“A blank canvas,” Lynn said, her eyes bright. “Maybe the reason you don't have a string is because you’re the only person in this world who gets to decide for herself who she belongs to,” she offers a squeeze to Mayu’s hand, “Yooyeon is the same. Maybe you’re soulmates because you chose each other when the universe didn't give you a reason to. Isn't that more romantic than a piece of red yarn?”

Mayu looked back at her empty fingers. The idea felt dangerous. It felt like heresy against everything she had built her life upon. But as she thought about Yooyeon, the way she laughed at the dumb jokes Mayu would tell, the way she defended Mayu against the condescending guy at the party, the way she looked in that emerald blouse – Mayu realized that no string could ever make those moments feel more real than they already were.

“I… But… But what if she hates me now?” Mayu whispered, her voice cracking. “I told her she was a ‘glitch’,” she whispers, voice small, “I was so horrible to her, Lynn. I pushed her away so hard.”

Lynn sighed, looking over the river, and it’s then Mayu can’t help but note it all. How whilst Mayu had always been the one who could observe and see people, there was always an underlying insecurity that seemed to come with that. But Lynn, just another girl kept on the outside of what Mayu knew, always seemed far more secure amid it all. Mayu thinks it won’t be long until Lynn finds her person.

Finally, the younger sister speaks, “If she’s the person you think she is, the one who chose to sit in a bush and wait for your 'song', then she’ll understand,” Lynn said, standing up and dusting off her jeans. “She’s not looking for a matchmaker right now, unnie. She’s looking for the girl who came to get her at 2 AM and helped reorganise her bookshelf.”

Mayu stood up slowly, her legs feeling like lead. The fear was still there, a cold knot in her stomach, but Lynn’s words had started a small, flickering flame where the emptiness used to be. “Go home, Mayu,” Lynn said, giving her a quick, firm hug. “The universe isn't going to do this one for you. You have to do it yourself.”

***

The walk back to the dorm felt like a mile-long gauntlet. Mayu’s mind was a whirlwind of ‘what-if’s and ‘maybe’s, a storm of doubt now beginning to cloud over the clarity in her mind. As she approached the entrance to her building, she saw a figure standing under the streetlamp.

It was Kotone.

Mayu stopped dead. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She expected a lecture. She expected Kotone to tell her to pack her bags, or to scream at her for the way she’d weaponized her ‘gift’ against her best friend’s relationship, against her own wishes to never know if she and Jiyeon were meant to be or not. She braced herself for the impact of a friendship ending.

Instead, Kotone just stood there, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, her breath visible in the cold air. When she saw Mayu, she didn't scold. She didn't move, didn’t frown, didn’t curse her out.

She simply opened her arms wide, and Mayu broke.

She didn't walk, she stumbled forward, crashing into Kotone’s chest with a sob that sounded more like a howl, burying her face into the younger girl’s chest. It was the sound of almost twenty years of being the ‘all-seeing’ girl finally shattering, finally accepting that right now, she was more unsure than ever. It was the pent up frustration and sadness that came with her and Yooyeon. She buried her face in Kotone’s jacket, her fingers clutching the fabric as if she were drowning.

“I’m sorry,” Mayu wailed, the words muffled by tears and fabric. “I’m so sorry, Tone. I was so mean. I’m so jealous and I’m so scared and I didn't mean it, I promise I didn't mean it–”

“Shh,” Kotone whispered, rocking her back and forth, her own eyes damp, wrapping her arms around her friend. “I know. I know, you idiot,” she chuckles, shaking her head, “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Well,” she clicks her tongue, “I was mad for like ten minutes, but Jiyeon told me I’d be a hypocrite if I stayed that way.”

“I shouldn't have said those things about your string,” Mayu sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her release. “It’s beautiful, Kotone. It’s so beautiful, and I’m so happy you have it. I was just... I was so lonely.”

“I know you were,” Kotone said, stroking Mayu’s blue hair. “That’s… that’s on me, I’ve always been pretty condescending about your gift and what you do, but what you do is beautiful, Mayu, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that I’ve thought otherwise. I’ve always admired you for turning your ability into something that helps others,” she pushes a stray lock out of Mayu’s face, “And you’re not alone, you’ve never been alone. String or no string, you’ve got us…”

Kotone offered a smile, “And you’ve got her, if you’re brave enough to go get her.”

Mayu simply put her head back into Kotone’s chest, and cried until her eyes were swollen and her chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a spoon. When she finally pulled away, she felt lighter, as if she’d finally shed a heavy, ornate cloak she’d been forced to wear since childhood.

She wiped her nose with her sleeve, looking up at Kotone. “Is she still there?”

“She’s at the library,” Kotone said, checking her phone. “Jinsol said she’s been sitting at that same corner table for four hours staring at a textbook she hasn't turned the page on,” she hummed, “Sound familiar?”

Mayu gave a watery, genuine laugh. She straightened her cardigan and took a deep, shaky breath. The world still looked the same – the red strings were still there, pulsing with the rhythm of fate. But as Mayu looked toward the library, she didn't care about the glow anymore.

She didn't need to see the music to know that she was finally ready to play it. “I’m going,” Mayu said, her voice finally steady.

“Go,” Kotone smiled, nudging her. “And Mayu? If you see a red string between you and her tonight... tell me,” her expression softened, “Because I’m done letting you carry all your feelings on your own – I’m here for you, dummy.”

Mayu nodded, letting out a brief laugh, before fierce determination took hold of her. She turned and began to run – not away from the world this time, but toward the ‘glitch’ that she finally realized was her own beautiful, unwritten future.

=====

The sky above darkened, and the night air was a sharp, biting cold that tasted of salt and impending snow. Mayu ran, her boots hitting the pavement in a frantic rhythm that mirrored the hammering of her heart within her ribs. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t looking at the strings hanging above, she wasn’t scanning the crowds for the crimson tethers of destiny or calculating the odds of a successful match. Her world had narrowed down to a single, desperate point: the library.

She could see it ahead, a massive stone monolith of knowledge glowing with pale yellow light that peaked out from the windows. Somewhere in that maze of bookshelves and hushed whispers was a girl who had no destiny, a girl who was a ‘glitch’. A girl who, against all the laws of the universe Mayu had ever known, was the only thing that felt real.

Mayu’s lungs burned. She wasn't an athlete, she was a girl who spent her time in cafes and bistros, watching the world through a lens of red thread. But she didn't slow down. She couldn't. Every second she stayed silent was a second Yooyeon spent believing she was a ‘glitch’, that they were worth giving up on.

She rounded the corner of the library’s main entrance, her vision blurring with the cold and the remnants of her tears. She was so focused on the heavy wooden doors that she didn't see the figure stepping out of the shadows.

Thump.

The collision was sudden and jarring. Mayu let out a gasp as she tumbled backward, her hands flying out to catch herself. But before she could hit the concrete, two strong, slender arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against a charcoal overcoat.

The scent hit her first – vanilla, expensive perfume, and the crisp, clean scent of the winter wind.

"Mayu?"

The Japanese girl looked up, gasping for breath, her hair a messy blue halo around her face. Yooyeon was standing there, looking just as disheveled as Mayu felt. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed a deep, frantic pink, and she was clutching several thick, leather-bound books to her chest, now sandwiched between the two girls.

"Yooyeon," Mayu breathed, her voice a ragged whisper. "I was... I was looking for you."

"I was looking for you too," Yooyeon said, her voice trembling with an intensity that silenced the rest of the world. She didn't let go of Mayu’s waist. "I… I went outside, a-and Kotone told me you ran off. I thought – I thought I’d lost you. I thought the 'glitch' was finally over."

"Yooyeon, listen–"

"No, you listen," Yooyeon interrupted, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush, the two now standing slightly apart. The older girl looked down at the books in her arms, her knuckles white. "I’ve been in there for hours, Mayu. I’ve been reading everything. Folktales, shamanistic records, ancient poetry, obscure myths about the Inyeon, about fate, love, destiny… I thought maybe I was a mistake,” she breathed, “I thought maybe I was cursed."

Mayu blinked, taken aback. “Folklore? Yooyeon, you don’t even believe in the ‘pull,’ why would you–”

“Because I had to find a reason!” Yooyeon’s voice rose, a desperate edge to it. “I had to find out why you see the world the way you do and why I’m not in it…”

“Yooyeon…” Mayu mumbled, taking a step forward.

“No, Mayu, look,” She took a shaky breath, stepping closer until their foreheads almost touched. "I found this story, Mayu. An old, old story from the mountains. It was about a shaman who could see everything, just like you. She could see the threads of the gods, the threads of the peasants, the threads of the animals, and–"

“Yooyeon!” Mayu shouted, the sound echoing across the quiet plaza.

The older fell silent, her chest heaving as she stared at Mayu. "Yooyeon…” Mayu said, her voice softer now. She reached up, her fingers trembling as she touched Yooyeon’s face, silencing her. The younger girl’s heart was still racing, but the fear had changed. It wasn't the fear of being wrong anymore. It was the fear of not saying the truth while she still had the chance. "Stop," Mayu whispered. "Please. I don't want to hear about the books. I don't want to hear about the stories or the myths or the shaman."

Yooyeon’s eyes searched hers, clouded with confusion and hurt. "But Mayu, I was trying to find a way to make it okay. I was trying to find a reason for us to exist."

"I don't need a reason from a book," Mayu said, a stray tear escaping and trailing down her cheek. "I’ve spent my whole life living by the reasons I saw with my eyes, the rules I imposed on myself. I’ve lived by the 'laws' of the strings because they were safe, a net to always catch me, a map I could follow,” she sighed, “They told me that as long as I followed the red lines, I could never get lost. I could never get hurt, but I did, because that wasn’t a map of directions for me in the first place."

She took a deep breath, her gaze locking onto Yooyeon’s with a fierce, terrifying clarity.

"But then I met you, and for the first time, there was no map,” she muttered, “There was no safety. There was just... you, a-and…! She shook her head, “I was so scared – I was so convinced that because there was no string, there was no future. I thought that if the universe didn't sign off on us, then we were just a campfire waiting to go out in the rain."

The Japanese girl took a step closer, now invading Yooyeon’s personal bubble, and her fingers curled into the lapel of the older girl’s coat. "But I was wrong.” she admitted in a whisper, “I was so wrong. Lynn told me that maybe we’re the only ones who are actually free, a-and I realized... I don't want a map anymore, Yooyeon,” she smiled, faint, “I don't want to know the ending before I’ve even started the book. I want the risk. I want to try romance. Something real, messy, and uncertain, even if it's the biggest mistake of my life."

Mayu’s voice broke, but she didn't look away. "I want to be the 'glitch' with you. I like you, so much it hurts, a-and I don't care if the universe hasn't noticed us yet, because…” She sniffled, a stray tear falling down her cheek, “Because I notice you, and that has to be enough."

The silence that followed was thick with the weight of Mayu’s confession. She braced herself for rejection, for Yooyeon to tell her it was too late, or that the logical science student before her didn’t take risks, not anymore. “I… I know you might be mad, but–”

The words died in Mayu’s throat as a slow, radiant smile spread across Yooyeon’s face. It wasn't the polished, untouchable smile she gave her followers. It was the messy, genuine smile of the girl who sat in bushes and reorganized bookshelves.

"You're so dramatic, Mayu-ya," Yooyeon whispered, a soft laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Mayu blinked, startled. "I... what?"

"You're standing here giving this big speech like it’s the end of the world," Yooyeon said, leaning in even closer. "And you're surprised I'm not upset? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to catch up?"

She shifted the books to one arm, using her free hand to cup Mayu’s jaw, her thumb brushing away a tear.

"I used to think Jinsol was the most ridiculous person on campus," Yooyeon admitted, her voice dropping to that intimate, melodic register. "I never understood all those lofty concepts. Soulmates, destiny, the 'pull.' I thought it was all a way for people to feel special about the incompetence they had in their lives,” she chuckled, “Why would you put up with someone else's mess just because you 'liked' them? It seemed so inefficient."

She hummed, her eyes shimmering in the lamplight. "But I get it now, I realized I’d wait in that bush for ten hours if it meant you’d show up. I realized I’d go on a hundred boring dates with linguistics students just for the five minutes I got to spend with you on the mezzanine afterward,” she laughed, “I’ve walked through the rain and sat in freezing dorm rooms and waited three days for just a text back…” She sighed, “I would wait as long as it took because I get it now, Mayu. The pull isn't something you see. It’s something you do.”

Yooyeon reached out, taking Mayu’s hands in hers. Her skin was cold from the night air, but her grip was firm. The older girl’s expression turned serious again, her gaze dropping to Mayu’s lips before returning to her eyes. “I should finish the story, though,” Yooyeon murmured, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. “The one about the Shaman.”

Mayu laughed softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Fine. Tell me the ending.”

"The shaman… She ran a business, just like you,” she hummed, “And just like you, she was the best matchmaker in the land, but she could never see her own string,” there was a sad smile on her face, and a second ‘just like you’ went unsaid, “She thought she was destined to be alone, a servant of the gods who was denied the very love she gave to others. She lived in that emptiness for years."

Yooyeon’s voice was a soft caress against the cold air.

"But then she met a man by chance. No string, no destiny. Just a man who liked the way she laughed. And she fell in love. She took the risk, Mayu. She chose him when she didn't have to,” she laughed, breathy, “And do you know what they said?”

Mayu shakes her head, and the Korean girl smiles.

“The story says the Shaman was never meant to see her own string,” Yooyeon muttered, her voice dropping to a soft, intimate register. “The matchmakers of old were made blind to their own destinies for a reason. They had to be blind so they could understand the weight of the choice they were asking others to make. If they had a string, it wouldn't be love; it would just be an assignment,” she brushed a lock out of Mayu’s face, “They had to be the only people in the world who had to love without a safety net.”

Yooyeon’s hand slid down to Mayu’s pinky finger, her touch warm and solid. "So I’ll ask you one more time, Matchmaker," Yooyeon whispered. "Are you willing to take the risk? Are you willing to be blind with me?"

Mayu didn't hesitate. The ‘laws’ of her world were gone, replaced by the heat of the girl standing in front of her. "Yes," she said, her voice clear and sure. "I choose you, Yooyeon. String or no string, every time… It’s you."

Yooyeon didn't wait. She leaned in, closing the final inch between them.

The kiss was everything the emptiness wasn't. It was warm, it was frantic, and it was filled with the pent-up emotions of months of denial. It tasted of vanilla and salt and the exhilarating freedom of a fall. It wasn't a ‘lightning strike’ from the heavens; it was a fire they had built themselves, stick by stick, in the middle of a storm, and it was burning, an intense heat that spread from their lips to their chests, and throughout the rest of their bodies.

Mayu’s hands found their way into Yooyeon’s hair, pulling her closer, desperate to bridge the gap that had terrified her for so long. She felt Yooyeon’s heart beating against her own, two separate rhythms finally finding a shared cadence.

In that moment, the ‘silence’ Mayu had feared so much was gone. It was replaced by a song so loud and vibrant that she felt like she was hearing the world for the first time, melodic in her ears, making her feel as though she were on cloud nine.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless and laughing, their foreheads pressed together as the wind’s howls calmed down into something closer to a soft whisper against their flushed skin.

"See?" Yooyeon teased, her eyes bright. "The world didn't end."

"I think it's just beginning," Mayu laughed, wiping her eyes. She looked down at their hands, intending to just admire the way their fingers were intertwined. But then, she froze. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes widened until they felt like they would fall out.

"Mayu? What is it?" Yooyeon asked, her voice tinged with worry. "Did you see something?"

Mayu couldn't speak. She just pointed, her hand trembling.

There, tied firmly around Yooyeon’s ring finger, was a faint, shimmering glow. It wasn't the static, predetermined red of the others. It was a deep, pulsing crimson, like a heartbeat made of light. As Mayu watched, the thread stretched across the small space between them, weaving through the quiet air, and tied itself into a perfect, sturdy knot around Mayu’s own ring finger.

The string hadn't been missing because they weren't meant to be. It had been waiting. Waiting for them to stop looking at the map and start walking.

"The string," Mayu whispered, her voice thick with wonder. "Yooyeon, it’s there. We have a string."

Yooyeon looked down at their hands, and her own eyes widened. She’d never doubted Mayu – honestly, she’d often stare at the younger girl, seeing the way her eyes lit up whenever she’d look between a couple, or look at the hands of some people she helped. It wasn’t too far-fetched that the younger girl had seen something, but now, Yooyeon saw it too, perhaps from their newfound connection.

The scarlet thread felt tight and non-existent all the same, a firm yet comfortable reminder that Yooyeon had done it, she found someone. The older girl squeezed Mayu’s hand, the crimson thread shimmering with the movement.

"I told you," Yooyeon smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Mayu’s nose. "The music was always there. We just had to learn how to play the song."

Mayu looked up at the library, then at the city, then back at the beautiful, complicated girl in her arms. The world was still full of millions of red strings, a chaotic and beautiful web of fate. But as Mayu leaned back into the kiss, she realized she didn't need to be the matchmaker anymore, and the light of everyone else’s strings began to dim.

Because she had found the only destiny that mattered. The glitch was rectified, the emptiness gone, and in its place was a story that they, and only they, would get to write.

=====

The air in the ‘Kitschy Dive’ was thick with the scent of maple syrup and overpriced espresso, a far cry from the biting frost of the library plaza. Mayu sat in the plush red booth, her shoulder pressed firmly against Yooyeon’s. The world outside the window was still a tangled web of destiny, but for the first time in her life, Mayu wasn’t overwhelmed by the noise.

With a soft blink, she practiced the ‘filter’ – a trick she’d picked up over the last few months, after she and Yooyeon became official. The thousands of scarlet threads trailing from the pedestrians outside blurred into a soft, inconsequential hum, receding into the background like bokeh in a photograph. She didn't need to see everyone’s ending anymore – she was finally too busy living her own.

"You're doing that 'focus face' again," Yooyeon murmured, nudging Mayu’s side. She was scrolling through her phone, the light of the screen illuminating the soft curve of her cheek. "If you're scouting for the waiter, don't bother. He’s already tied to the pastry chef in the back. I saw the way he lingered by the kitchen door," she sighed, “We’ll have to find our new clients later…”

Mayu laughed, leaning her head on Yooyeon’s shoulder. "I wasn't scouting. I was just... enjoying the quiet."

Our clients. It was a strange, beautiful partnership. Yooyeon, with her razor-sharp social intuition, had become Mayu’s unofficial consultant, a partner in her matchmaking. While Mayu saw the spiritual tethers, Yooyeon helped remind her of the human ones – the micro-expressions, the subtle leans, the way a person’s English name might hint at their hidden personality. Yooyeon seemed to be able to see their own string, but not others, not that it mattered.

Because together, the Matchmaker and the campus sweetheart were an unstoppable force.

The bell above the door chimed, and Kotone and Jiyeon tumbled in, looking windblown and happy. To Mayu’s eyes, their connection was a steady, comforting glow, a string she never bothered trying to hide.

"Sorry we're late!" Kotone announced, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. She looked at the two of them – Yooyeon, currently hand-feeding Mayu a piece of pancake, and Mayu, happily taking it – and made a face of mock disgust. "Aigoo, look at you two. My eyes actually hurt,” she clicked her tongue, “Is there a 'Matchmaker Special' for when your best friend becomes sickeningly adorable and you wanna find someone else for her?"

"It’s called 'getting over it,' Tone," Yooyeon teased, her dark eyes sparkling as she lightly kicked the younger girl under the table, and Jiyeon laughed. She had won the girls over weeks ago – her sharp wit was a perfect match for Kotone’s sarcasm, and Jiyeon found her ‘research-based’ approach to romance fascinating.

As the four of them fell into an easy rhythm of gossip and laughter, Yooyeon held up her phone. "Wait, stay like that. The lighting is perfect."

Click.

Ten minutes later, Mayu’s phone buzzed with a notification.

@PizzaKim: Found the person who reorganizes my heart. 🏹❤️ #MyPreciousBunny #GlitchInTheSystem

The photo was a candid shot of Mayu laughing, her eyes crinkled and her blue hair messy, while Yooyeon’s hand was visible in the frame, their fingers entwined. The deep, pulsing crimson string between their ring fingers wasn't visible to the camera, but it was there – a heartbeat made of light that stood out against the mundane world.

Mayu looked at the screen, then at the girl beside her. The older girl was currently arguing with Kotone about the merits of indie cinema, her expression animated and alive as Jiyeon shook her head, smiling and embarrassed at their combined volume. Mayu didn't need the strings to tell her they were meant to be. She felt it in the warmth of Yooyeon’s hand and the way the emptiness had been replaced by a song that never quite ended.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Yooyeon’s temple. The universe might have left them a blank canvas, but Mayu decided she liked their colors much better.

"Sickening," Kotone muttered, though she was smiling.

"Absolutely," Mayu agreed, and she wouldn't have it any other way.