The New Oracle ['Our Story for Tuesday']

The clock on the upper right corner of her desk read 11:47 p.m. Ji-eun turned a cold, long-forgotten teacup in her hands and stared at her phone screen. A conversation frozen two months ago was still there, exactly as she had left it.

It had been two months since the breakup. They had met in April and parted in June, which meant the time they had actually loved each other amounted to little more than two months. Both were at an age when marriage was impossible not to think about. After their first meeting, Ji-eun had naturally begun imagining a future with him. He had been that good.

The trouble started after their first fight. Whenever he found himself in an uncomfortable or losing position, he went silent. At first she told herself he was someone who needed time. She waited a day, then two. But it was always Ji-eun who broke the silence. Every time he shut himself away, she was the one who had to go and knock on the door first.

Ultimately, it was Ji-eun who said they should break up. She no longer wanted to live with a weight pressing down on her chest every time someone went quiet. For a while after the breakup, she genuinely felt light. She told herself it had been the right call. At least during the day. At night, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. Had she been too hasty? Would things have changed if she had waited a little longer? Did he ever think about her?

Sharing those thoughts with a friend felt too humiliating. So she turned to YouTube tarot. On nights when he crept back into her mind, she would pick a random video and listen to the voice of someone turning cards. For a time, it was a real comfort. Of course, as the weeks passed, she came to see that it meant nothing at all.

"You know what? AI is actually really good at reading compatibility these days."

The words her colleague K from the same department had said over lunch that day suddenly came back to her. Ji-eun immediately entered both their birth dates into a traditional Korean almanac and pulled up their four-pillar charts. She took screenshots of both and uploaded them to an AI chat window.

— Can you tell me what our compatibility looks like?

— These two people are strongly drawn to each other. However, there is a significant difference in how they handle conflict. Where one tends to confront problems directly and seek resolution, the other has a strong tendency to retreat into their own space.

Ji-eun's jaw dropped. It was accurate in a way that felt like the AI had been standing right beside them the whole time.

— So if I don't reach out first, is this relationship over? Does he even miss me?

Compatibility no longer mattered. What Ji-eun wanted to know was what came after. Whether he missed her. Whether he had loved her as much as she had loved him. She was asking an AI the things she could never bring herself to ask another person.

— It is highly likely that the other person still has feelings after the relationship ended. However, given a strong sense of pride and a tendency to avoid conflict, missing someone and actually reaching out are separate matters. Even if he is thinking of you, there is a high probability he will not act first.

Ji-eun stared at the screen for a long moment. That he would never be the one to reach out first — she knew that better than anyone. That the same patterns would repeat if they got back together — she knew that too.

"It is highly likely that the other person still has feelings."

But it was that line, catching her eye in the middle of everything, that made Ji-eun open the input field again.

— What are the chances of us getting back together? And if there's a possibility, what's the most likely date?

Several dates appeared on the screen — a first choice, a second, and a third. Ji-eun's eyes stopped at the third.

— Third choice: Sept. 3. This is a day when past feelings are likely to resurface, or when a reason to reach out may present itself.

Her heart sank. That was her birthday, which made it feel all the more plausible. His KakaoTalk would probably show her name at the top: "Friend with a birthday on Tuesday." That meant the birthday itself could serve as cover — an easy excuse to say something. It felt like a coincidence, but an almost too-perfect one. Ji-eun scrolled down a little further, then brought her fingers back to the input field.

— So if you had to put a number on it, what's the percentage chance he reaches out first on Sept. 3?

— While it is not possible to calculate an exact statistical probability, based on the information you have provided and the trajectory of the relationship, an estimate of approximately 87 percent seems reasonable. It would be better for you to wait for the other person to act rather than reaching out first.

Ji-eun stared at the number 87 for a long time. It was not 100 percent. But it was high enough to justify waiting. All at once, her chest felt lighter. The number 87 had given shape to a waiting that had felt formless until just moments before. Now even the waiting seemed to have an end.

— If he really does reach out that day, what should I do?

— It would be best not to seem too eager or to give the impression you have been waiting. Watch to see whether the other person makes a genuine effort to restore the relationship. Now is not the time for you to make the first move.

Ji-eun found herself nodding. Right. This time I am absolutely not moving first. As that thought settled in, a strange impulse rose inside her. She stared at the screen for a moment, then opened a new chat window. This time she uploaded no birth charts, no dates. Instead, she typed as though she were him.

— I have an ex-girlfriend I broke up with two months ago. When we fought, I was the one who went silent, and every time she was the one who reached out first. In the end she got tired of it and said we should break up. But I still think about her a lot. Should I be the one to reach out?

— If the other person has repeatedly been the one to repair the relationship, it is important that you reach out first this time. The other person has likely already made more than enough effort. If you want to restore the relationship, honest expression must come before pride.

Ji-eun's expression hardened. Just moments ago, the AI had told her to wait. Now it was telling him to reach out first.

— But I'm afraid of being rejected. If I wait, won't she reach out first?

— It is possible. However, if she has been the one to reach out before, expecting her to do so again is not conducive to repairing the relationship. Reaching out first is the better choice.

Ji-eun lifted her hands from the screen. The person was the same. The relationship was the same. The only thing that had changed was whose perspective the question came from. For a long moment she could not type anything. Then she went back to the first chat window and entered another question.

— You said earlier there was an 87 percent chance he'd reach out. Why did you say that?

— The 87 percent was not a statistical probability predicting the actual future. It was an estimate offered to help explain the likelihood, based on the information you provided and the context of your questions.

— And Sept. 3?

— The same applies. Sept. 3 is not a date that predicts or guarantees any actual event will occur.

Ji-eun laughed, a hollow sound. That he still missed her. That pride was the only thing keeping him from reaching out. Until just moments ago, those things had looked like a version of the future — not yet arrived, but already fixed somewhere, waiting. But they were not. The AI had not known the future. It had simply gathered up the feelings she had scattered between her questions and handed them back to her in the most plausible shape it could find.

Ji-eun typed one last sentence into the input field.

— Then what should I do?

— There is no single right answer to that question. However, if you would like, we can work together, based on our conversation so far, to find the choice that would be most helpful to you.

For the first time, Ji-eun closed the chat window without reading the reply to the end. Outside the window it was pitch dark. A faint reflection of her own face floated on the glass. Only then did she think she understood. What she had so desperately wanted to know was not his feelings. The answer had been inside her all along. She had simply been unable to believe it coming from her own mouth, and so she had waited for someone else to say it for her. A tarot card. Fate. And finally, AI.

Ji-eun's gaze drifted to her phone, lying face down on the desk. For someone who needed an oracle, anything could become a god. The problem was never the god. It was the question.