Downfall of the System

“Let’s run it down by me again, okay?”

“Like I told you, Mr. Ide, everything was fine as usual, and then the system started malfunctioning suddenly. Now the algorithm is going crazy. Soullets started matching everyone incorrectly, even those who had already found their soulmate.”

At those words, Nami immediately raised her hand to look at her bracelet.

It was no longer gold. A vibrant pink color glowed angrily at her, as if mocking her.

It’s just a malfunction. It’s not like it changed because of her.

“Let me quickly check,” Atsushi said, seeming unmoved by the entire ordeal. Focused on cold calculations, he went through his tablet, fully absorbed. “There it is,” he finally said, raising his monitor to show it to Hashimoto. “We didn’t readjust the calculation for the birth rate. The sudden boost of children born around 25 years ago wasn’t included in the numbers. That’s why the system overheated when so many Soullets were in the same spot at once.”

“So what should we do, Mr. Ide?”

“Tell the tech staff to fix it by adding the missing data. Send a notification to all Soullet users with apologies and reassure them that the error is only temporary. It will take a few hours for the system to process the new info, and we’ll need to reboot it to ensure everything works as it did before,” Atsushi said as he patted the stressed-out man’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine. Calm down. I’ll walk around the festival to check if anyone needs help.”

Hashimoto nodded and scurried away.

The blonde man sighed tiredly. “What a mess,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. He exhaled a shaky breath, trying to steady himself before speaking again. “Sorry about that. I wish I could stay and talk a bit, but it seems I have to help stop this apocalypse.”

“Can I help somehow?” Nami asked, the words escaping her mouth before she realized it. “I mean, I don’t know anything about programming, but if there’s anything else I could do—or, I don’t know—it’s not like I had any plans for today. So, if I can be of any support, why not?” She kept rambling, feeling a bit silly but trying to hide her embarrassment. “Also… it would help me get my mind off of… things.” While saying that, Nami slowly spun the Soullet glowing in fiery pink around her wrist.

Atsushi seemed to take note of the symbolic movement. He glanced at her bracelet and then back into her eyes.

“I planned on just walking around and reassuring people at the festival anyway, so I suppose having some company would be nice. Come on.”

Without hesitation, the brunette followed the freckled man.

“So, who exactly should we approach first?”

“I’d say those who look the most stressed out or unnerved. It’s impossible to get to everyone, but the system error was our fault. We overlooked the necessary data update. I just want to apologize personally to at least a few Soullet users.”

Walking side by side, scanning the crowd of people to find anyone who might need help or reassurance, Nami occasionally glanced at Atsushi. He looked just like any other day, yet in her eyes, he seemed a bit more handsome than usual. Maybe it was his serious demeanor overpowering his usual silliness that made him more attractive.

Or maybe she was just delusional.

She must have been in a daze for too long because the glance she was giving the man wasn’t one-sided anymore. It was the worst possible outcome: she got caught staring.

“I know my face is too handsome to resist, but we have a task at hand, Nami,” he teased, though only slightly.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, she tried to turn the situation to her advantage. “I was just thinking how all of this was so obvious.”

“Huh?”

As expected, she caught him off guard.

“You know, your last name, what your work is, and where all the money came from to sponsor our concert,” the woman listed.

“Oh, that… Yeah, so it wasn’t a surprise, huh?” His voice sounded quite upset, if not a bit disappointed.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter, really. Like, it doesn’t change anything, I guess. It was mostly the kind of surprise that makes you go, ‘Damn, it was so obvious. How did I not automatically connect the dots?’ rather than, ‘He’s from the Ide family—the same one who invented the Soullet system?’ You get me? I mean, the cliché of being a hater of something your predecessors invented was a dead giveaway. I’m honestly disappointed in myself.”

“Hey! I’m not a hater of the system!” he argued. “I just don’t like how people glorify it and blindly depend on it without questioning anything. Besides—”

But whatever Atsushi said next went unheard by Nami. Her attention was now focused on a very lost-looking older lady. She placed her hand on the blonde man’s arm to gently push him aside as she decided to approach the woman.

“Excuse me, miss, are you okay? You seem a bit lost. Can I help you somehow?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

“Oh, hello, dear,” the old lady answered. “Well, yes and no. Either my eyes are fooling me, or my husband decided to joke with me again. Just look at this.” She raised her hand to show her bracelet glowing white. “It should be gold!”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s your husband pulling a prank, miss,” Nami began to explain, but Atsushi, who had apparently caught up, decided to take over.

“My apologies, ma’am. Our system malfunctioned, but don’t worry—it should be fixed in a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, Atsushi here is an expert, so you have nothing to worry about, miss!” Nami added.

“Oh no, no,” the woman said, unconvinced. “I am sure it was my husband’s doing. He loves to trick me now and then.”

The pianist exchanged a glance with the man in round glasses, and he looked back at her. It seemed convincing the lady otherwise was futile, so they had to change tactics.

“Ma’am, do you know where your husband is right now?”

“Oh, surely he’s hiding somewhere, giggling like a child.”

“Okay,” Atsushi continued carefully. “Would you let me scan your Soullet so I can get data on your husband? This way, we could call him out at the festival’s help point.”

“Be my guest,” she said, sticking out her hand adorned with the bracelet.

The blonde man took out his tablet and scanned the device.

“There. Now we can—” he stopped, staring at the monitor with concern.

Curious, Nami stepped closer to see what was on the screen.

“Soulmate deceased.”