Chapter Text
Seokjin looks up at the enormous glass building, frowning.
He has always been able to see it, from any part of downtown Seoul. An enormous, modern building with the words HeartSync etched on all four sides.
He never thought he’d enter the place, much less with a purpose.
—
Seokjin’s parents had met in elementary school, and by some blessing of fate had made it all throughout school and university absolutely head over heels for each other, ending up married in a beautiful house in the city with an adorable baby boy. A life many yearn for.
Not Seokjin, though. He often wonders if it was seeing his constantly lovey-dovey parents all throughout his childhood that turned him off from the heavily desired prospect of a ‘soulmate’.
He had vowed not to let anything distract him from his education, or his career.
And he's succeeded, his marketing firm has grown from a small start-up to one of Seoul's most sought-after agencies. Seokjin takes pride in his work, all methodical and logical, everything has a strategy and a clear outcome. Unlike relationships, which seem to operate on some weird system he's never mastered.
But now that he's well-settled into his own life, he's under the scrutiny of his parents' criticism. According to them, the phrase "well-settled" is incapable of being used for people without that oh-so-desired soulmate.
For his parents, success isn't achieved until you have someone to come home to.
For a while, Seokjin's mother had elbowed him every time a woman was spotted in her periphery, pointing and whispering and conspiring an entire future with people she saw a glimpse of. Seokjin always grimaced and shrugged, flushing to his neck every time his mother spotted yet another daughter-in-law candidate.
Until, finally, Seokjin had pulled her aside, whispering wearily, "No, mom. Not women." He'd given her significant look, until she had gasped and nodded in understanding. And then had immediately pointed to a young man in a grocery store, "What about him?"
So, clearly, the specifics don't matter to them. The two just really want him to find love.
They're exhausting.
And exhausting doesn't even begin to describe their gleeful faces from the week before, the way they smiled slyly up at him as he visited them for dinner. His guard was instantly up, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
He should've seen it coming, really. When nothing mattered in what sort of person Seokjin bought him, it should've been obvious that they don't care if the person was a human, either.
Seokjin's mother had silently handed him an envelope. He had frowned, plucking it from her hands and quickly ripping it open:
Dear Kim Seokjin,
Thank you for choosing HeartSync!
Here at HeartSync, we pride ourselves on creating APLEs (Adaptive Personalised Lifelike Entities): personalised, fully compatible companions tailored to your unique needs and desires. Using our cutting-edge advancements in human-simulation technology, emotional mapping, and machine learning systems, we are able to craft a companion who is not only physically and emotionally catered to you, but one who grows with you over time.
From initial evaluations to continuous interviews and assessments, our expert engineers ensure every APLE to meet your exact specifications:
•Physical attributes
•Personality traits
•Emotional responsiveness
•Cognitive development
•Adaptive algorithms
We can create models for any human relationship you could desire, with not a blemish to suggest that your companion isn't human. Perfectly human, and perfectly catered to you.
We, quite literally, sell perfection!
Your first evaluation is scheduled for May 16th at the HeartSync Seoul Headquarters. We look forward to welcoming you into the future of love.
Much love,
The HeartSync Team
—
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose as he remembers the embarrassment that had flooded through him. His parents thought him so pathetic they'd signed him up for fake lovers. Like sending a socially awkward kid to the debate club in hopes that he improves his confidence.
Except Seokjin is a grown man soon to hit his thirties, standing at the doors of a company that claims to manufacture love, out of spite to prove to his parents just how ridiculous an idea this entire thing is.
Seokjin sighs as he stares up at the building. He certainly knows of people with personalised companions, because of how popular companies like HeartSync are getting, but he can never help but scoff a little at the idea of it.
It's not like he can tell the difference between an actual human and an APLE in passing. No one can, they are too flawless, but it is impossible to find out about an APLE and not feel a chill down your spine every time you interact with them. They are too real, too lifelike, but they aren't human. They had always freaked Seokjin out a tiny bit.
And now, here he is. Standing in front of Seoul's most technologically advanced APLE company, getting ready for his evaluation to create the perfect glorified robot for him. A loud groan escapes him as he realises just how deep into this he's going to be able to go, "I told you so!" to his adamant parents.
He schools his annoyed expression, letting out a long exhale before he pushes open the glass doors of the enormous building.
Seokjin looks around warily as he enters the place. The lobby looks just as daunting as he had expected it be.
High ceilings, tiled floors, large screens mapping every other inch of the sleek walls. Gleaming white, futuristic, and entirely soulless. If it weren’t for the low buzz of activity of employees and clients, the place would look suffocatingly eerie.
Seokjin rolls his eyes at the clash of technical embellishments against the attempted romantic enhancements. Clearly, this company could not make its mind up for the life of it.
A large OLED screen displays the inner workings of their robotic models (Not the best thing to see first-hand when you’re looking for love…), beside which is ingrained HeartSync’s stupid tagline.
Engineering Personalised Perfection.
Seokjin wants to retch a little. He can feel the scepticism boiling up inside of him. A robot? Really? They could make them as realistic as possible, but it's still a machine.
He can't even connect to regular humans, Seokjin scoffs internally. A fake one? Forget about it.
His footsteps echo off the polished floors as he walks toward the reception, the highly air-conditioned atmosphere causing a slight shiver to escape him.
The building smells like nothing, no perfume or coffee or air-freshener. There was only the sterile scent of filtered air and cleaning products.
The receptionist looks up at him with a polite smile. "Are you Mr. Kim?"
Seokjin shamefully nods, already weary.
She smiles wider, "We've arranged everything for you. Right this way, sir."
Seokjin follows the mildly disinterested receptionist, trying not to grimace as she leads him through the sleek hallways and elevators. The place screams artificial, looking more and more like the engineering laboratory it really is, instead of the glorified dating app they claim to be.
The receptionist finally stops in front of a modern, white (a descriptor that can be used for everything else in the building) door, pressing a button and gesturing inside as it slides open.
“Your digital evaluation begins here. Your companion's base model will be created on the results of this, and will then be improved with further assessments by our engineers.”
Seokjin thanks her as she leaves, sighing as he enters the room with a wary look. The lighting and furniture here is a little different, softer and warmer, as if meant to make the client comfortable. The abundance of screens surrounding the room, displaying their many models and their uniqueness, doesn’t really add to that comfort.
Seokjin feels more and more like a test subject as he approaches the large screen which displays a questionnaire: his main evaluation. He purses his lips, slowly pressing the button labelled Begin, a resigned look on his face as he starts to answer.
The questions start off extremely generic, and Seokjin begins to feel like he’s answering a BuzzFeed quiz. Find out which type of single loser you are! Dating apps, work spouses, or robot lovers? Click to start!
The never-ending questions keep going. They start to get a little more personal, and it starts feeling a little more like a personality quiz.
But it doesn’t stop there. The questions shift jarringly from playful to probing. Seokjin feels increasingly uncomfortable as he clicks and types.
What are your worst fears in a relationship?
What do you believe was lacking in your previous relationships?
What improvements do you think you can bring to yourself for healthier relationships?
Seokjin clenches his jaw harder with each click. He’s digging into things he’s never even thought of himself, giving it to this stupid program so they can create that stupid robot.
When was the last time you felt impossibly lonely?
What do you need to hear to feel like you’re loved?
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin mutters, feeling like the screen is reaching into his chest and pulling out all the little bits of information that have never made it to his head, let alone out of his mouth.
His gut churns, and he swallows thickly. This is crazy. This is insane.
He blinks at the last question, fingers hovering over the screen. He thinks about his parents' easy affection, wondering if they would find this as hard as he does. The display is still, as if waiting expectantly for him to bare his soul to an algorithm.
Seokjin exhales shakily, trying to figure out an answer to a question he's never asked himself.
When the last one is answered, and the questions finally end, Seokjin feels hollowed out. He takes a deep breath, staring at the message displayed: ”Thank you for your honesty! Please take a seat and have a sip of water to collect yourself. We’ll be joining you shortly."
Seokjin scowls. They know their dumb quiz shakes their clients up.
He doesn’t know how long he stares at the screen with furrowed eyebrows, when the door behind him slides open again.
"Mr. Kim? Our engineer is waiting for you.”
Seokjin turns around with an annoyed look, wordlessly following the employee through even more white, sterile hallways.
Seokjin feels like he might be sick. It’s only a matter of time before he realises that spite isn’t nearly enough to make it through this entire process without actually losing his mind.
The employee points at a door, “That’s Mr. Kim’s lab. Our employee Mr. Kim, not you...” She grimaces, “Just call him Taehyung. He’s through there.”
Seokjin groans audibly at the thought of even more assessments, then flushes a little at the woman’s confused look. He bows, never forgetting his manners despite his annoyance, and moves towards the, yet another, white door.
Even as he walks, he can't help but despise the entire environment of the place. It's too perfect. Nothing is ever this perfect.
An advertisement flashes on a lone screen on the wall on his left, "Nobody may be perfect… but your HeartSync companion certainly will be!"
Seokjin grits his teeth. He hates it. He hates all of it.
Just as he's about to reach the door, a clang from inside the room makes him jump, and he looks back at the employee in alarm. She simply rolls her eyes, “He’s like that. Don’t mind him, go on.”
Confused, Seokjin shrugs to himself and stands before the door, raising his hand to knock.
Seokjin pauses. He can hear movement inside, like the soft shuffle of papers, maybe the clink of metal on glass. For a moment, he considers turning around, walking back through those gleaming hallways and out of this place entirely.
But something in him tells him to knock. So he does.
“Erm… Come in!” The voice that answers sounds like it would be deep, but is currently pitched in panic and embarrassment, “Just… don’t mind the spill! And don’t slip!”
Seokjin blinks at the door, his fingers slowly wrapping around the doorknob. He twists, and the door clicks open.
Seokjin cautiously pushes it open, looking around at the ground for spills. He spots it a few feet away: coffee. His eyes drift up from the mess, tracing the path of his gaze up toward the source of the voice.
Seokjin blinks. His hand is frozen on the doorknob, as is the rest of him. The room seems to blur around the edges… actually, the room seems to blur around him.
Time has stopped. Everything has stopped. The world has halted, leaving only Seokjin’s heart to beat frantically against his chest.
His breath caught in his throat, Seokjin can do nothing but stare.
Seokjin is transfixed.
The man clutching the steel coffee glass makes a nervous sound—maybe a chuckle, Seokjin is too disorientated to tell—and smiles apologetically.
“Hi! I’m Taehyung.”