The important things in life always happened by accident. At twenty one Moon Byul Yi didn't know much, in fact, with each passing year she was a lot less clear about things. But this much she did know, you could worry yourself sick trying to be a better person, spend a thousand sleepless nights figuring out how to live a clean, honest and decent. You could cross your heart seven times with your eyes closed tight shut, cut your thumb and squeeze it and pen solemn vows on a rock with your own blood and then throw it at a river at the of midnight. Or a better yet an accidental meeting with the love of her life.

Snow had been falling all week and she had been looking forward to some good weekend skiing. But in the early hours of Friday morning now turned to rain and by daybreak Seoul was knee-deep in gray sludge. As if to make doubly sure, it was raining indoors too. Around 10:00 A.M the heating and water for the whole apartment building went off. When Byul went to investigate she found the elevators were out of action, water cascading down the stairwell and the lobby full of wet-legged people yelling at each other.

She was renting alone in an apartment on the second floor of a beat-up pale blue clapboard building on the east side of town, just over the river from a university. Her flat had two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. The floorboard creaked, the doors didn't shut properly, the plumbing had a mind of its own and the walls were scarred with scotch tape and painted in various combinations of deep blue and purple, except for the bathroom which was entirely white. The building was being remodeled and for the past two months the construction crew had proven that they were indeed experts of upsetting the residence. Specially this morning as one of the carpenters severed a water pipe in one surgical swipe.

Why she choose to stay in such a state wasn’t just due to her little income, there was a nearby forest where she always spent her time when she needed time to breathe and destress. It was heavily dense woodland, that anyone get lost in. The trees there were weird and unearthly compared to the ones in the city, neatly trimmed and cared for. The ones there, were totally different. They have a physical power , their breathe grazing any humans who might chance by, their gaze focused in on an intruder like they’ve spotted prey. Like they have some dark, prehistoric, magical powers, which Byul deeply respected and reveled in.

Byul had been working most of the night on more compositions. It was going well and though she was increasingly aware of how the construction work was infusing both music and lyrics with a darker, more menacing tone than intended. When she removed her soaked socks and black near the door she found there had been a more literal infusion. The ceiling had sprung a leak directly above the piano. The piano itself, an old upright, that needed tuning so often it wasn't worth the effort, but nevertheless seemed undamaged. But the stack of music sheets that was on it, her entire night's work was soaked. There was another leak in the closet where she kept her climbing and skiing gear. Tossing the saturated papers to the garbage and placing the contents of her closet on the living room table, she huffed sitting down on the couch. There was plainly some sort of cosmic conspiracy against her.

Then the mail arrived, returning to her, with thanks, not one but two rejected music scores and demo tapes of her last composition, the ones that clearly weren't going to make her famous. She sighed, brooding in self criticism.

Since dropping out of college two years ago, teaching piano was how Byul made enough money to keep on composing. During the winter her only source of income was from playing every Friday night in a downtown bar, which despite being paid little money and less attention, she still enjoyed. With her teaching, quiet unintentionally, she seemed to have cornered the market in the spoiled offspring of the city's most gracless high achievers.

She was not looking out the window, seated in front of a much grander and sleeker piano than her own. It was late afternoon and the rain pelting outside the window somehow calmed her down despite the rough start of the day. Beside her was a twelve year old Bae Joohyun. Despite coming from a rich family this little girl was not like the other brats Moonbyul taught. She was an absolute angel, with a kind of pure, sweet, transparent beauty. She had long, shiny hair as black as night, slim, graceful arms and legs, bright eyes, and a soft little mouth that looked as if someone had just made it. This little girls performance was interesting. Or maybe should she have called it strange? It wasn't just ordinary. Of course it wasn't polished. Her sound was untrained. But she made it work. Ninety percent was terrible, but the other ten percent was there. She made it sing. It was music, that's why Moonbyul liked teaching her.

But that was two hours ago, and Byul was now seated beside a fifteen year old, with gold streaks in his hair. What she found most irritating of all was the way this little boy slaughtered an innocuous and nine too taxing piece of Chopin. When he finished he slumped back from the keys. “Chopin .” He says.

“You think so? Really?” Byul tried to sound light, amused even.

“Yeah.”

“You've obviously been to busy to practice since last week.”

The boy grunted and began to pick his nose. They sat for a moment listening to the rain outside. Byul took off her glasses, the old ones with the scotch-taped hinge, and gave it a polish. It reminded her that she couldn't afford, literally, to be impulsive here. She took a breathe and put them back on. “Okay, what should we play then? Want to try some more Led Zeppelin?”

“That too.”

Exasperated and almost at the end of her wits she breathes out through her teeth. “Wow, they all seem to . Chopin, Mozart, Led Zeppelin.”

“Yeah right.”

Byul let the silence hang for a moment. The boy was looking at the rain pouring from outside, still picking his nose. She studied the sullen, slack-jawed profile and made a few rapid calculations she was about to nfluct on her already dicey finances. Well so be it. She stood up, plucked the music from the piano and stuffed it into her briefcase.

“What's going on?” The child asked.

“Nothing and that's the problem.” Byul sighed.

“We only just started.”

“Yup and through. I'm out of here.”

As she was leaving, the boys mother came out of the hallway, toweling her face, finishing her work out. She frowned. “You two done already?”

“Yes ma'am. Done and dusted.” Byul responded with a nod. She picked up her coat from the chair by the front door.

The twelve year old shiftily at his mother as if the world had gone crazy. The mother looked at her watch. “But it's only--”

Byul interjected. “The thing is, Mrs. Park, you're wasting your money and I'm wasting my time.”

“Why? isn't my son making progress?” The woman asked her features were blank, obviously not the first time someone had walked out on her son.

The hamster looked at the boy. He was standing there, twisting his fists into the belly of his T-shirt and scowling at the floor. It was a pathetic sight and for an instant she felt bad. She sighed remembering why she was doing this in the first place. You can't teach someone who doesn't enjoy it, feel it.  “No ma'am. He isn't. In fact, frankly, your son has no interest in music. I've been teaching him for a month and he hasn't made any progress since the day we started. Maybe you could find him something that matches his interest as music isn't one of them.”

The elation only lasted until she got home. The heating was still off and water was still dripping into the garbage bin she placed where the piano used to be. She showered in cold water, singing to keep herself from freezing and from thinking too much about a reckless fool she had been to give the Parks the bullet. Then she made herself some hot chocolate, microwaved half a pizza left over from last night and ate it with kimchi huddles in a blanket in front of the TV news. She sighed still gloomy and teetering towards depression.

Hyejin liked her to show up at the bar at eight even though the place never got crowded until much later, so around 7:30, she braved the rain out to her car and set off across town in one long and dreary crawl to traffic.

The bar was called 2YoungGirls, owned and managed by two college level girls named Hyejin and Wheein who, Byul was friends with for a long time. It stood near the waterfront on the fringe of a revamped area that was a well known tourist area during the summer but on a winter’s evening, such like it was now, it seemed like a sad mistake. But despite looking like as mashed up building from the outside, the interior was luxuriously designed, but still felt cozy, like coming back home to a rich friend’s home. The furniture was a mix of vintage and modern design. The floor was plain wood. The ceiling was high, magnificent thick beams  ran across the ceiling o