Applause roared through the hall as the screen behind him lit up with images of the app on both web and mobile.
When the applause finally died down, Darcy continued, his tone calm, deliberate.
“It helps you find your soulmate not by playing to your fantasies, but by understanding who you truly are—and matching you with someone who sees that. Genuinely. Quietly. Without spectacle.”
He let that sit before going on.
“Unlike other platforms that enable endless swiping based on fleeting preferences, TrueNorth does things differently. Our users commit to three dates with their matched partner before making a decision. Because the data isn’t guessing—it knows.”
He moved one hand slightly, almost absently.
“We’ve studied the gap between who people think they want and who they actually connect with. Our engine doesn’t just show you someone attractive. It shows you someone aligned. And if, after the first date, you feel no connection, you still go on two more. Because meaning takes time. Because connection is rarely instant. Only after the third date can you request a new match.”
He paused again, gaze sweeping the room.
“We are not selling the illusion of infinite choice. We are offering the possibility of being seen.”
A hand went up. Somewhere near the front.
Darcy nodded.
A woman’s voice: “What if you don’t want to go on three dates?”
Darcy didn’t flinch.
“Then this may not be the platform for you.”
There was a ripple of laughter—sharp, surprised.
He waited, then added, “We’ve designed a space for people willing to try. People who are tired of curating personas andbeing reduced to avatars. If you’re here for shortcuts, that’s fine. But this isn’t one.”
There was a beat of silence, then scattered applause, polite and restrained, like people clapping for a toaster that had not burned the bread. Somewhere behind her, a woman actually murmured, “Brilliant.”
Elizabeth raised her hand.
Darcy saw it. He hesitated. Then said, “Yes?”
She smiled, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So… you’re saying your app helps people fall in love—without actually falling?”
A pause. Then laughter. Not just polite. Genuine, startled, grateful. Darcy’s jaw tensed like a man suppressing a system error.
Jane pinched her.
“I’m asking for a friend,” Elizabeth added, too late.
Darcy straightened. “The illusion of falling is often just confusion, bias, or biology. What we offer is clarity. Certainty. A connection rooted in who you actually are, not how someone makes you feel in a passing moment.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Isn’t love supposed to be sweet and delicious? Like a coffee with too much sugar. Love is indulgent, not something mathematical. As if one is playing a puzzle.”
Murmurs rippled.
“What people want,” she continued, “are butterflies in the tummy. Not... this.” She gestured toward the slide behind him. “Not a pie chart.”
Darcy’s expression didn’t shift. “Romantic idealism is a luxury most people cannot afford indefinitely. We provide something sustainable. Real.”
Elizabeth leaned back, unimpressed. “Have you ever been in love, sir?”
A pause.
