She was like Athena of Greece. She marched in long yet elegantly careful steps that wouldn’t bother her black, tight skirt. A pair of Louboutins vaunted her statuesque legs and gave illusions that she towered more than her five-six figure. Arrayed in a white silk shirt and a beige jacket, she turned all heads towards her as she walked.

Kang Daeyeon stepped out of the arrival building in Incheon airport, her heart pulsating with restlessness she had felt since she was in Montreal. Husband-number-three had already contacted her, wanting to make sure she had arrived in South Korea safely.

Her big, dark eyes narrowed behind her shades to spot a limousine, the chauffeur had already held the back door open for her. Daeyeon smiled in spite of her edginess. There was one thing with industry men: they wanted everything to be under control. Compliance was a must from whatever—or whoever, in her case—belonged to them. And everything, or everyone, under their control would be treasured in return. This was where Daeyeon had placed herself.

Walking onto the breezy morning, she checked her Rolex. It was a little too early for a visit, but since this was her daughter… From her crumbled first marriage, she had taken Daehee with her, even though the girl’s father had wanted otherwise. She thought she couldn’t be held responsible for being unable to trust Daehee to a man who couldn’t even take care of himself. She couldn’t see Daehee’s life being ruined in disgrace which was her father’s place now. First and foremost goal in her life had been that Daehee had the proper upbringing she deserved. They could say money wasn’t everything or debate that there were things money couldn’t buy, but it had proved wrong in Daeyeon’s world.

Her thoughts drifted again to her daughter, her precious little jewel. She had raised Daehee so well the girl became the epitome of perfection. She had nurtured her to be that of a sea, awe-inspiring when regarded either from afar or up close. Daehee shone with her uniquely beautiful charm she put any other daughter across the globe to shame. Her musical talent ran circles around girls of her age. And she was about to land a pop star as her future husband. Daeyeon couldn’t help but think how in the future Daehee would have a respectable family with well-bred children, preferably if they inherited their mother’s height, because Junsu’s was just run-of-the-mill.

How the flawless impression was fragmented when Daeyeon had arrived at her daughter’s apartment.

All she’d initially thought as merely an extra effort to discipline Daehee turned out to be a remodeling. The minute she’d received a call from Junsu’s mother, she’d thought of it as misunderstanding. Of course, Kim Junsu and his old-fashioned and almost-introverted ways had been famous, but she’d thought of returning to Korea as a warning to her daughter that she couldn’t lose her grips on this one. With a little compromise between mother and daughter, she’d thought Daehee would understand.

But what she found was much worse. She was greeted at first by clothes which had allegedly been thrown to every direction by their owner. She was barely conscious of the sound her Fendi handbag made as it hit the floor, for her mind had registered there were long pants which clearly didn’t belong to her Daehee. Some droning of conversation, in addition to several footsteps, caught her breath.

She was close to swing open the door leading to Daehee’s bedroom forcefully, but she held it back because the voice was getting closer.

“So, breakfast on bed?” It was a man’s voice which was soon followed by Daehee’s giggling and the pace of Daeyeon’s breaths quickened. The door opened to reveal a wide-eyed, brown-haired man the age of her Daehee, dressed only in boxers.

Were they doing it as she opened the door, Daeyeon wouldn’t have been more embarrassed. Much to her strength of will, she did not fail to keep her voice and face flat. She looked beyond the man’s shoulder to spot her daughter, who was trying in vain to cover herself. She took another glance at the young man. She didn’t stood much higher than the man’s throat, which she desperately held herself from strangle, but her anger and his shame switched them over.

“I’ll give you ten minutes while I refresh to clean up this mess.”

Daehee watched her mother’s back as she walked away to the guest bedroom, surprised in spite of herself that she hadn’t broken down in tears. The euphoria she’d had before she saw the vision of her mother faded away so quickly as if they had never had that damned early morning activities. Shaking, she got off bed and tried to locate their clothes in the mess which was the living room.

A pair of arms caught her as she retraced her steps into the bedroom. They crushed her against so solid a chest that supported her right before her knees gave away. She sobbed one or two times as she felt a hand her hair and she found herself clutching Kim Taehwan’s body.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay and explain it to her,” he whispered soothingly.

“You can’t,” she refused around a sniff. “She won’t leave you alone, ever. I’ll be fine.”

And she did the hardest thing next to having her mother at her door when she had a lover spending the night: letting him go. She walked away from him and got dressed.

“We’re in this together,” he sighed.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess,” she replied, wiping the endlessly flowing tears.

“I wanted to be dragged into this… unorganized, unplanned, sort of roller-coaster life you have.” He sounded cheerful and she couldn’t hold back her smile. Only Taehwan would make her smile when the world around her gave her every reason to shed tears. Too bad he was just a guitarist of an indie band. Too bad he had no regular income, no promising future, and no hefty amount in his bank account. Too bad his mother lived in countryside, off their family’s little farm, away from glittery skyscrapers that was Seoul. Too bad he was not Junsu.

“Look at me,” he said softly. The desperation in his voice gave a chill down Daehee’s spine. She turned around and found him there, the worst possible man for her, and yet the one she loved the most, looking at her as if she was the reason why he had been born.

“I won’t make you choose,” he started, and the tears started running down her face again. “But I won’t make this any harder for you. Just say the word, Daehee-ah.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. And that was true. Out of all fakeness her life based on all the time, that was the only real thing about her.

Eunmi’s heart was thumping with expanding anticipation. Her usual peaceful and composed self was only visible outside. She knew, with every increasing pace of her breath, that that was gonna be the biggest thing she would do in years: joining audition for Sylvester Levay’s musical project. Just by thinking about that spun her head in a delighting movement. She knew nevertheless that the tremor which was then possessing her hands couldn’t be a sign of anything bad.

‘At least I’m here,’ she told herself. ‘Here, given this chance.’

She was in Namsan Arts Center in Yejang-dong, a sleek and modern-looking place Junsu and his team used during Mozart! rehearsal. Even in the minimum light, the place had been glossy with its polished surface everywhere in sight. The stage was in the middle of gradual rows of plush and velvety seatings. Eunmi moved her focus to the man in the center of it, the man whose presence itself was beyond adequate to light up the spacious room.

Junsu still had his infection preventing him to speak properly, so he had borrowed Eunmi’s board as a mean of communication when he’d picked her up that morning. Watching him trying to converse with such unusual way weirdly amused Eunmi, part of it would be because he looked too adorable. He exchanged a few more times with Levay before lifting up his head and beaming to her direction, signaling her to come down.

Levay’s reaction when she introduced herself—by taking back the board from Junsu’s possesion—wasn’t entirely unexpected. Much to Eunmi’s relief, nevertheless, he smoothed down his face to professional, leader-like expression and gestured Eunmi to sit before the piano.

She kicked it off with the song she felt most confident about, Beethoven’s Für Elise. Levay didn’t say anything until the song ended, nor did he convey his judgment by the change of his looks. Eunmi held her breath; it looked like she didn’t meet up his expectation.

But Levay clapped afterwards and said, “I’m so sorry it ended so fast. I enjoyed your performance. Now, could you please present another song?”

Given the fact English was not her first language, Eunmi’s mind was scrambled she took longer minute to proceed what Levay politely requested. When she finally took a tentative try on the musical instrument, she played the first song she could come up with, Nocturne no. 2, a number of Chopin’s.

Again, Levay didn’t let out even a word. He only stared at Eunmi, as if attempting to see through her. His ocean-like eyes drilled into her and explicably made her feel uneasy that she missed a few tunes.

“Splendid, Miss Shim. I appreciate your improvisation, highly,” praised Levay when she finished. That, along with a warm and wide smile calmed momentarily the unsettled thoughts she had. “But it’s very interesting you didn’t perform a Mozart.”

Each feeling left Eunmi and the next moment, she blamed herself for being so ignorant. That was an audition for Mozart! play. It was only acceptable if she played Mozart’s sonata in the first place.

It was as if Junsu sensed her guilt as she stole a glance at him, because he quickly wrote down on the board a sentence Eunmi couldn’t relate.

It’s her first time playing in public. Two months and she will excel.

She must be brilliant if Junsu said so, since Junsu had a musical sensibility Levay could trust that had brought him to pick Junsu amongst any other idols. In all honesty, Levay did enjoy Eunmi’s show. It was as though she created an entirely new work of art; she added her personal touch to two pieces she had performed. The changing of a few notes that perfected instead of disturbed the performance, improvisation of the tempo which was showed by a clever ad-libbing when she had purposefully paused the play toward the end of Für Elise to build anticipation.

Not to mention she was physically challenged, which meant her being accepted in that audition would be unforgettable experience for her. Levay might be stern but he was not vehement. He bet not every day a mute girl got a chance to perform in public in South Korea.

But Mozart’s was in general trickier than two songs Eunmi had chosen to perform. Junsu said she’d never played in public before, which implied the fact she wasn’t used to working in orchestra. And she wasn’t experienced with numerous audiences. To summarize it, Levay would be relieved to have another choice, just in case.

“Mr. Levay?” Junsu used his horrible, croaky voice to demand his attention.

“Well, I guess we—“

Before Levay finished saying they could give Eunmi a chance, the translator had come behind him and was now clearing his throat to call for his interest, too.

“Excuse me, Mr. Levay. Miss Lee here said she wants to enter the audition for vacant pianist position.”

Levay turned around and didn’t have to bother himself with the horrible look displayed on Junsu’s face. The star of the play went pale as he stared with widening eyes to the pretty figure that had shown up with the translator.