Chapter 2

I stood outside the convenience store, holding a frostberry pop that was melting in my hand, my face completely deadpan as I stared at that ridiculous 3%.

I had been head over heels for him for a whole month, wrote fourteen diary entries about him, and purposely sat near him in the cafeteria twenty-three times.

And his Heart's Compass? Not even a blip was still stuck at 0%.

But she knocked over some milk, tossed him a simple "thanks," and suddenly he jumped to 3%.

Yeah, whatever.

Honestly, who needed this dumb superpower anyway?

During my four years in college, the longest relationship I ever had was with my pillow.

After graduation and starting work, this ability kept haunting me everywhere I went, like a sneaky background app, always draining my energy and messing with my head.

My entire blind date history was basically a Heart's Compass reality show.

First up was a programmer, thick glasses, plaid shirt, the classic look.

As soon as he sat down, I glanced at the Heart's Compass floating above his head.

It read: "Missing his first love: 72%"

'Man, he showed up, but his heart never left his first love,' I thought.

I slurped down my beef noodles as fast as I could, then excused myself with a polite smile.

Next up was a fitness coach, ripped, with a killer smile, and the kind of sunshine vibe that could light up a room.

The Heart's Compass above his head read: "Average crush level for all women present: 45%"

Average. Seriously.

So basically, he was checking out every woman in the restaurant at once.

I glanced at his biceps, then at the Heart's Compass, and finished my plum cordial with a polite smile.

Third up was a college professor, gentlemanly, well-spoken, and who seemed like the real deal. 'Finally, someone I can actually count on,' I thought.

The Heart's Compass above his head read: "Reliance on Mom: 81%"

The honey-glazed boar ribs on my fork slipped right back onto the plate.

When my mom found out, she scolded me, "Why do you always have to nitpick everyone?

"Back when your dad was after me, his Heart's Compass for me was only at 60%! Love can be cultivated!"

I shot back, "Mom, Dad's guilt level for you has been stuck above 85% for years. Are you sure that's love, or is he just paying off a debt?"

My mom was silent for three seconds, then just hung up on me.

Honestly, it got rough sometimes.

If I didn't see those numbers, maybe I'd have just stumbled into romance like everyone else, falling for someone, getting my heart broken, just being another clueless girl in love.

But that was the thing; I saw them.

I knew that when a guy at work flashed me a smile, his Heart's Compass barely hit 12%; that smile was nothing but polite routine.

I knew that every guy who added me on social media was probably chatting up three other girls at the same time, because his Heart's Compass was spread thin across all of us.

I knew the real score behind every "I really like you" during a date.

It was like suddenly being able to see the calorie numbers hovering over your food.

How was one supposed to enjoy his or her bucket of fried chicken then?

Clara always nagged me, "Persephone, you're just way too rational. Love was about hormones, not some Excel sheet."

I shrug. "You don't understand. What I see is more accurate than any spreadsheet."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, then, who in the office had the highest Heart's Compass for you?"

I paused for a moment.

Honestly, I never really bothered to check out the guys at work.

Work had been exhausting enough; I didn't need the extra headache.

But since Clara brought it up, I started to recall.

Our company made games, and I worked in the Department of User Prosperity, though everyone called it the "Cash Crop Division" as a running joke.

We were up on the fourteenth floor of a central business district high-rise, with a guy-to-girl ratio of about six to four.

I usually just filtered out the Heart's Compass above my male coworkers' heads, like I was blocking pop-up ads.

But if I had to pick one...

I just remembered.

There was a backend developer in the Arcane Development Division named Finnegan Blackthorn.

Why did I remember him?

Because his Heart's Compass was totally different from everyone else's.

Everyone else's Heart's Compass showed up as "Crush on [Name]: [Number]%".

But Finnegan? His was..."? ? ?: ? ?%."

Yep, three question marks.

The first time I saw it, I thought I was hallucinating.

I rubbed my eyes and checked again, still nothing but question marks.

It wasn't that he didn't have a crush.

It was just that the Heart's Compass couldn't detect who the crush actually was.

In all seven years of having that superpower, I had never seen anything like it.

It was like a radar picking up a blip, but the system just couldn't tell what that blip actually meant.

I was curious for about three seconds, then totally forgot about it.

I was too busy tweaking work proposals to bother digging into anyone else's romantic drama.

Clara saw me go quiet, and her inner gossip gremlin kicked into overdrive. "Come on, there's gotta be someone, right? Spill—who is it?"

"Nope," I replied, taking a sip of coffee. "The Heart's Compass for the guys here averages about 15%. Basically, we're all just friendly coworkers—no one's actually crushing hard."

"Ugh, your superpower is such a mood killer," Clara said, clearly unimpressed.