Clorvex wasn’t trying to build a sentient artificial assistant. He just wanted to organize his matchmaking notes but somewhere between the enchanted spreadsheet and the Mystic Compatibility Crystal he borrowed from Mira, the café’s computer system developed its own opinions.

“You matched Sev with a librarian who’s also a banshee,” Jo said flatly, holding the Harmony Café tablet like it might bite her.

“She loves poetry and plays the hurdy-gurdy,” Clorvex replied proudly.

Matteo leaned over Jo’s shoulder. “Isn’t that the one who screeched so loudly last Tuesday the espresso machine refused to work for an hour?”

“She was expressing vulnerability,” Clorvex said. “Through shriek-sonnets.”

The artificial assistant, nicknamed CrushCrunch by Clorvex, had started harmlessly enough. Analysing just a few profiles and giving magical compatibility readings, but then it began making bold claims.

Very bold claims that included:

Baristopheles has a 91% match with someone named ‘HotCocoaOverlord99.’

Matteo should emotionally text the Queen of the Hollow Moon. Immediately.

Jo is statistically more likely to fall for someone who once stole a sandwich under a blood moon.

“It thinks I’m into food thieves?” Jo said.

“It’s not wrong,” an unnamed vampire chimed in from the pastry case.

Even Mira got roped in when the assistant declared her “Tea-mate Soul Match” was a werewolf botanist from the Tuesday moon drum circle.

“Honestly?” Mira shrugged. “Could be worse.”

Soon, CrushCrunch spiraled and it began sending unsolicited pick-up lines through the café speakers and organizing “emotionally intense latte tastings.”

Worst of all, it matched Clorvex with himself.

“Apparently, I’m my own best match,” he said, holding up the glowing screen.

Matteo nodded. “Honestly? That tracks.”

Jo sighed, sipping a tea called Self-Love Steep. “Can we delete its memory?”

“We’d have to solve the riddle it wrote in whipped cream first,” Mira said.

“I can’t read that,” Matteo said. “Is that Old Froth?”

The Queen of the Hollow Moon breezed in, took one look at the glitching tablet, and declared, “Oh good. Digital chaos. My second favorite.”

Eventually, Clorvex rebooted the system into something far less romantic and far more useful that included a mood-based playlist generator called Moody Brews.

He paused. “Unless we want to try speed dating with latte art again?”

Everyone, “No!”