Jinx: The Missed Party 🥳🎉

People might have been wondering why I haven’t published anything after the release of episode 78. My silence is linked to my health. I was sick exactly like Joo Jaekyung. I had to remain in bed for a while. But enough about me.

When Doc Dan returned to Team Black, the fighters were so overjoyed that they immediately proposed to celebrate his comeback with a party. (chapter 78) Their noisy excitement — hugs, wishes, smiles, jokes, even talk of meat — gave the impression of a long-awaited reunion. Yet the suggestion was cut short by Jaekyung, who rejected it like this: (chapter 78) In other words, a party was “missed.” At first glance, this might appear to be an exception, a rare moment of denial in a story otherwise filled with shared rituals. Readers might recall the welcome party (chapter 9) in episode 9, the champion’s birthday dinner (chapter 43) in episode 43, the talk of hospital get-togethers (chapter 61), or the festive tone of fighters after director Choi Gilseok’s victory (chapter 52).

But the closer one looks, the clearer the pattern becomes. The missed party is not an isolated accident; it is the rhythm of Jinx itself. Whenever celebration hovers near — a victory, a birthday, a reunion, even a funeral — someone is not present. In addition, the celebration arrives too early, too late, in the wrong place, or in the wrong form. Jaekyung wins titles, but the gym shares the glory while he remains uncelebrated. (chapter 41) Why did they not organize a party in Seoul to celebrate his victory in the States? Dan devotes himself to work, but his departures are marked by silence (chapter 53) rather than farewell. (chapter 1) The few rituals that do occur — a premature birthday cake, a noisy hug, puppies chasing after a car — (chapter 78) always miss their mark, either hollow in substance or unseen by the very people who should be honored.

The title The Missed Party therefore names more than one canceled occasion. It captures the way the two protagonists move through a world where rituals of belonging are constantly distorted or denied. And in a culture where such celebrations carry deep social weight, the absence is all the more striking. The missed party becomes the haunting motif of their lives: recognition always promised, but never truly given.

The Meaning of Parties in Korea

In Korean culture, parties and team dinners (hoesik) hold a strong ritual function: they create bonds, display hierarchy, and confirm belonging within a group. Farewells, birthdays, and victories are all expected occasions for collective recognition. Yet in Jinx, these moments of celebration are strangely absent or hollow. When Jaekyung wins, his fee doubles, but no feast marks his achievement. Instead, the manager presents the “wolf” as his “trophy”. To conclude, others share in the reflected glory while the champion himself remains excluded, a fighter without a banquet. (Chapter 41) And this absence of recognition and respect is mirrored in the physical therapist’s position. He is not surrounded by the fighters and included by the manager. He is standing on the sideline. It was, as though his good work was not recognized . (Chapter 43) Even the “dragon’s” birthday, supposedly a day of personal celebration, is reduced to an awkward dinner at his expense, with a cake arriving a day too early (chapter 43) or gifts from sponsors and fans he never wanted. (Chapter 41) In Germany, it is considered as a bad omen to celebrate a birthday too soon. Rituals that should affirm intimacy instead expose distance and lack of respect.

A striking contrast appears in chapter 52, when the fighters from King of MMA (chapter 52) gather at the very restaurant used for Jaekyung’s birthday. This time the feast is paid for not by him, but by Choi Gilseok — the rival director who had just won money betting against Jaekyung. The excuse for the banquet is twofold: the humiliation of the champion’s tie and the arrival of new members. Yet the sponsor of the event is absent, his presence felt only through the bill he covers. Unlike the wolf, whose victories go unmarked, Choi Gilseok uses food and drink to project power and buy loyalty. Yet, this celebration with the absent director displays not only hypocrisy, but also resent and jealousy due to the selection of the location. The cruel irony is that Jaekyung’s fall is more celebrated than his rise. (Chapter 52)

This cultural backdrop makes the silences and absences in the Korean Manhwa all the more striking. Parties are repeatedly mentioned but rarely materialize, and when they do, they are strangely hollow. In chapter 61, for instance, a nurse suggests inviting the star to their next hospital get-together. (Chapter 61) The excitement is palpable — “loyalty” and celebrity sparkle in their eyes — but what stands out is the way Dan is erased in the process. They do not invite him; they want access to the famous fighter through him. His role is reduced to a conduit, the man who happens to be “close with Mr. Joo.” The irony is brutal: after two months of work in the hospice, Dan has never once been shown attending such gatherings himself. His own belonging is not on the table. He is used as a bridge to someone else’s fame, while his own exhaustion and lowered gaze silently testify to his exclusion.

But wait — is Dan not also responsible for his isolation? At no moment does he try to be close to them. He avoids their chatter, keeps his distance, and carries himself like someone already half absent. Chapter 56 seems to confirm this impression: even approached by one of the nurses, doc Dan uses work to avoid their company. (chapter 56) However, this is just an illusion. What caught my attention is that the nurses wondered themselves why such a skilled therapist would come to a small-town hospital. (chapter 56) They speak about him, as though he had no reason to stay there, as if he were a stranger passing through. Right from the beginning, he was treated unconsciously as temporary, someone whose presence required explanation rather than welcome. Finally, no party was held for him, no ritual of inclusion was offered. His distance and their detachment mirrored each other, producing the silence that would later define his departure. (chapter 78)

The paradox becomes even clearer when we turn to the star himself. Despite his status as champion, he never receives a proper victory celebration. After each match, we never see a celebration. (chapter 5) It ends either in the car or in the locker room. (chapter 15) The high peak of his celebrated victories takes place at the gym where Park Namwook gather the fighters in front of the Emperor congratulating himself for his “good work” and the spectators for belonging to a winning team. (chapter 41) Yet no feast is held for Jaekyung, no toast to his perseverance. The two men at the center of the achievement are left without ritual acknowledgment, while the institution absorbs the honor. They remain a wolf and a hamster without a feast — fighting, winning, but never celebrated for who they are. And now, you understand why the manager could make such a suggestion at the hospital: (chapter 53) For him, the physical therapists were just tools and as such replaceable.

Even Jaekyung’s birthday party in chapter 43 reveals this paradox. (chapter 43) A birthday, especially in Korea, is typically a family-centered celebration, held at home or among close friends. Yet Jaekyung’s “party” takes place in a restaurant, under Yosep’s casual announcement that they would be having a “dinner party.” (chapter 43) The phrasing itself is odd, almost bureaucratic, as though the event were an obligation rather than a gift. Jaekyung himself had to pay the bill, reversing the usual logic of being celebrated. They even started eating before which is actually a huge violation of social norms. The cake appeared the day before his real birthday, an empty gesture more about timing than sincerity. And while fans and sponsors showered him with gifts throughout the month, Jaekyung revealed that he didn’t want any of them. The ritual forms were there — cake, dinner, presents — but the meaning was absent.

But there is another telling absence: Dan himself was left in the dark about the “surprise.” (chapter 43) The fighters never included him in the planning, as if they feared he might leak the secret. In reality, this exclusion only repeated his deeper past: once again, he was not considered part of the group’s inner circle. Had he been told, he might have brought the card and the gift of his own, softening the sting of Jaekyung’s reaction. (chapter 45) By keeping Dan in the dark about the “surprise,” the fighters created another problem. Their silence pushed him to offer his own present on the same day as the gifts from sponsors and fans — exactly the kind of attention Jaekyung resented. He had already said he did not want those presents, and now Dan’s sincere gesture was placed in the same category, indistinguishable from the flood of unwanted offerings. What could have been a private, meaningful moment was absorbed into the hollow ritual of the group. Hence the champion never got to read his card! (chapter 43) In trying to celebrate, the team only ensured that both Jaekyung and Dan felt more isolated than ever. Instead, his silence reinforced the impression that he was peripheral. Unconsciously, Team Black treated him not as one of their own, but as an outsider to be managed. And even within the celebration, another absence was visible: Potato was missing, and no one seemed to notice. (chapter 43) The party did not affirm Jaekyung’s existence, nor Dan’s place beside him. It only reinforced their shared isolation, hidden under the noise of clapping and cheers.

Thus, Jinx presents us with a paradox: in a culture where parties are essential rituals of belonging, both Dan and Jaekyung remain excluded. They are surrounded by the signs of festivity, but the substance is always missing. Their lives are structured not by recognition but by its absence, not by celebration but by silence.

Dan’s Missed Parties

If the star’s parties are hollow, Dan’s are almost nonexistent. The only party where we see him smiling is his birthday, when he was a little boy. (Chapter 11) One might think, this celebration embodies a perfect birthday party. However, observe the absence of friends. It took place during the night too, a sign that his birthday was not celebrated properly. Everything implies his social exclusion. This made me wonder if this memory represents the only birthday party he ever had with Shin Okja. His life is a sequence of departures without ritual, absences without acknowledgment. Each time he leaves a place of work or community, he slips out like a ghost, denied the closure that parties are meant to provide.

At the hospital in Seoul, where he endured the predatory advances of the director, his dismissal was brutal and final. (Chapter 1) He was not only fired but blacklisted, erased from his profession’s networks. No farewell dinner was organized, no colleagues thanked him for his work, no one marked his departure. (Chapter 1) His stay had been so brief as well. Besides, his absence was engineered to be total, as though he had never existed. The very ritual that should have affirmed his contributions instead became a ritual of erasure.

At the gym, the pattern repeated itself. The spray incident turned him first into a scapegoat. Park Namwook yelled, the fighters remained passive, and even Jaekyung rejected his presence. In the space of a few minutes, Dan was ostracized, his innocence ignored. (Chapter 50) Then later the athlete questioned the physical therapist’s actions and told him this (chapter 51) out of fear and pain, the physical therapist thought, he was fired. Once again, he left in silence, unacknowledged. No one stood up for him, no one tried to reintegrate him, no farewell was offered. (Chapter 53) And keep in mind that according to me, in this scene, the manager already knew the truth. So he had a reason to dismiss a farewell party. The absence of ritual here was particularly cruel: Dan had given his skills and energy to the fighters, but his exit marked him only as disposable.

The hospice, where he briefly found genuine warmth, provided no closure either. When he left for Seoul, the staff were shocked, even saddened — but his departure was so sudden that no send-off was possible. (Chapter 78) Their affection was genuine, but the ritual was missing. Dan slipped away in silence, just as he had at the hospital and the gym. In the panel, what caught my attention is the reaction of the director. He is crying while keeping his distance, a sign that he is the one the most affected by doc Dan’s departure. For me, the author is alluding to the director’s regrets. If only he had treated doc Dan better… only too late, he had recognized that he had become accustomed to his presence. Doc Dan had always been a silent but active listener.

This absence of farewell may stretch back to his earliest traumas. If his parents truly died by suicide, it is possible that Dan never attended their funeral. Poverty, shame, and debt may have erased even that ceremony, leaving him with no closure for the loss of his own family. We can use Joo Jaewoong’s funeral as a source of inspiration. (chapter 74) The silence of his grandmother on this point suggests that even the most basic ritual of mourning was denied him.

The pattern becomes symbolic in the death of the puppy. (Chapter 59) Only Dan and the landlord marked the event with a quiet burial. Since no one knew about it, it left the ritual incomplete. For Dan, the small act was meaningful, but its invisibility to the larger community echoed his own life: recognition always hidden, always partial, never public.

Even in moments that looked like parties, Dan was left on the margins. Jaekyung’s birthday party, with its cake and noisy cheer, contained an intimate truth: Jaekyung’s sudden, raw confession, (chapter 43) This was the real heart of the evening, the only moment where ritual turned into intimacy. And yet even this was missed by Potato, who was absent at that crucial moment, lingering elsewhere with Heesung. The party’s form was there, but its essence — the recognition of Jaekyung’s loneliness and Dan’s importance — was overlooked by the two men at its center due to the presence of alcohol.

Thus, Dan’s life is a chain of missed parties. At the hospital, the gym, the hospice, even at funerals, he departs without recognition. And when celebrations do occur, the essential truth is missed — noticed only by those who are absent, while those present look away.

The Puppies’ Party

Nowhere is the irony sharper than in chapter 78, when the puppies run after the departing car. (Chapter 78) To them, departure is not tragedy but play, a noisy farewell parade. Their barking and chasing become a spontaneous party, a joyous ritual of attachment. (Chapter 78) It is pure, instinctive, and alive. And yet, neither Jaekyung nor Dan sees it. Shut in the car, burdened by urgency, contracts, and exhaustion, they miss the little parade given in their honor.

The contrast is devastating. Humans, with their expectations of formal ritual, repeatedly fail to mark Dan’s contributions. They miss every opportunity to acknowledge him. But the animals, in their innocence, succeed where people fail: they celebrate simply because they care. The puppies recognize bonds better than the humans who claim to love him.

What makes this little parade even more striking is that the puppies do not separate between wolf and hamster. Their joy is directed at both men together, at the bond symbolized by the car’s departure. (Chapter 78) In this sense, the puppies achieve what the humans cannot: they recognize attachment without division, gratitude without debt. Their farewell is not tied to work, contracts, or hierarchy, but to presence itself. (Chapter 78) By running after the car, they express loyalty and responsibility, acknowledging the care they have received. It is the only party in Jinx that includes both protagonists as they are — not as worker and champion, not as scapegoat and boss, but as a pair worth celebrating. Finally, they have no idea that the couple plans to return soon, as they have no notion of time. (Chapter 78) Striking is that here, doc Dan is making a promise to Boksoon and her puppies, but the latter have no idea. Therefore imagine this. On the weekend, the moment the car approaches the landlord’s house, the puppies will recognize them and celebrate their return! And this time, both characters will witness this welcome party: (chapter 78) How can doc Dan not be moved and even smile? Why did the champion reject the landlord’s suggestion (taking a puppy)? He had no time… Having a puppy will not just force him to slow down and take his time, but also attract real and genuine attention from the members of Team Black. (Chapter 78) The animals would even change Joo Jaekyung’s behavior and the fighters’ perception of their hyung. (chapter 78)

The Illusory Reset

When Dan returns to the gym, the fighters smother him with hugs and noisy affection. They beg him not to leave again, propose a welcome party, and act as if everything is back to normal. (Chapter 78) But this “reset” is an illusion. Dan is only contracted for two matches. Interesting is that no one is capable of perceiving the truth, as the main lead’s explanation is ambiguous. (Chapter 78) He doesn’t limit the number of matches, only that he will focus on the “wolf”. So for them, his return is not limited in time. Nevertheless, his paleness and dark circles speak louder than their words: he is exhausted, fragile, still haunted.

The fighters, however, do not see his state. (Chapter 78) They are more worried about another possible departure than about his condition, as though his leaving again would be a greater tragedy than his ongoing suffering. This exposes that the members are not totally oblivious and their reunion is not a repetition of the past. On the other hand, warm words and a noisy welcome are enough for them. They take his generosity for granted, just as they always have. Therefore they ask for his magic hands. (Chapter 78) Their celebration is shallow, a ritual meant to restore their own comfort rather than acknowledge his reality.

Here, the cultural weight of parties in Korea sharpens the irony. Gatherings are strongly intertwined with alcohol (chapter 9), and abstaining from drink often means being excluded from group belonging. Yet Dan, on medication, cannot drink. His doctor’s recommendation makes it impossible for him to participate in such “public” rituals. Even the customary sharing of a huge bowl — a symbol of intimacy and unity — must be avoided. For Jaekyung, who once used alcohol to dull his own struggles, (chapter 54) this becomes another reason to refuse such parties: they risk exposing Dan to temptation and harm. Park Namwook, knowing Jaekyung’s history of drinking, has no interest in promoting such events either. (Chapter 78) Hence the latter has no interest to organize a welcome party and even maintain the ritual with the bowl!! What might appear to others as grumpiness or stinginess is in fact a form of protection.

In contrast, Potato embodies another response. (Chapter 78) Having missed Dan most deeply during his absence, he now wishes to spend as much time as possible with his hyung. His longing shows that no party with Heesung and the landlord — no noisy drinking night — (chapter 58) could fill the hole left by Dan’s departure. But his form of attachment is still caught in the ritual of surface-level affection. What Potato craves is real closeness, hence he keeps hugging the physical therapist, (chapter 78) but what he proposes are the same shallow gestures that miss the truth of Dan’s fragility. The chow chow’s words — “Nothing beats seeing you at the gym” — unintentionally reveal this dependence. On the surface, it is a casual expression of joy and longing. Yet beneath it lies another truth: if the hamster were to leave Team Black for good, the gym would eventually lose all its members. From the start of the story, Dan has embodied teamwork. He is the glue that holds the fighters together, not by authority or charisma, but by care. Without him, unity dissolves into rivalry and noise. The irony is that the fighters sense this truth but cannot articulate it. They attempt to celebrate his return with hugs and the promise of a party, as if rituals could substitute for recognition. In reality, what they crave is not the feast but the fragile cohesion that Dan alone brings.

Striking is that Jaekyung’s refusal of the welcome party is linked to his position as director of the gym. It marks a turning point. Indirectly, he rejects the idea by redirecting the fighters’ attention. He points out their indifference toward him. For the first time, the athlete is voicing his dislike openly, he felt excluded. Due to this combination, the athlete doesn’t realize that he rejected the party, as if he refused to participate in hollow rituals that only disguise exhaustion and perpetuate harm. (Chapter 78) It becomes clear that for the athlete, such parties built on illusion can only harm Dan further. To conclude, thanks to his intervention, he protected the hamster from rituals that mistake noise for acceptance and even care. (chapter 9)

Park Namwook’s position within Team Black also sheds light on the dynamic of missed parties. In earlier chapters, he was the one who orchestrated gatherings (chapter 26), or allowed whether welcome parties or surprise celebrations or pre-match meals (chapter 22). These events were never about genuine recognition but about maintaining power and appearances, boosting morale, or reminding the fighters of their dependence on the team structure he managed. The “surprise” birthday party in chapter 43 bore his fingerprints, (chapter 43) yet he stayed conspicuously absent when the cake was presented, only appearing later at the restaurant. (chapter 43) This absence is revealing: Namwook preferred to avoid direct conflict with Jaekyung’s visible displeasure, leaving the awkward burden of paying and performing to the champion himself to Yosep. In other words, his parties were tools of control, not gifts of belonging. By chapter 78, however, the balance has shifted. (chapter 78) Standing in the back, Namwook watches as Dan returns and is embraced by the fighters. He notices a “different vibe” between the two leads, but fails to grasp what it means. Doc Dan is actually free and has the upper hand in their relationship. Hence he can no longer ask this from doc Dan: (chapter 36) Doc Dan should put up with everything. What he cannot admit is that Dan is no longer replaceable. (chapter 78) Once erased, the therapist now belongs; once central, the manager is now the outsider. Namwook is pushed into the very silence he once imposed on others. The irony is sharpened when Jaekyung openly asserts his authority: (chapter 78) With that, the wolf reclaims his rightful place. In other words, by respecting the hamster, the protagonist is learning to protect his own dignity and interests. (chapter 78) Namwook’s illusion of control dissolves, his “decisions” and rituals losing their force. Even the proposed welcome party collapses in an instant when Jaekyung refuses, proving that Namwook no longer directs the rhythm of the team. The missed party is thus his own as well: the final chance to assert authority through ritual slips away before his eyes, leaving him stranded on the margins of the very world he once managed. And in this reversal lies a striking symmetry: the silence that once excluded Dan now excludes Namwook, completing a cycle of poetic justice. What Dan endured in season one (chapter 41), sidelined and voiceless, is now mirrored in the manager’s quiet erasure.

If Dan’s health were to worsen, the most striking reversal might occur: a match could be cancelled not because of the champion, but because of his therapist. Such a possibility would mark a profound shift in the logic of Team Black. In season one, Jaekyung fought regardless of his condition; his insomnia, shoulder injury, foot injury and depression were ignored, never reasons to stop the machine. Dan was expected to keep patching him up in silence while the show went on. But if a fight were cancelled due to Dan’s weakness, it would confirm his irreplaceable place in the system. The team’s future would depend not only on the fists of the champion but on the presence of the man who heals him. For the wolf, this would be more than logistics: it would be a choice of care over profit, proof that he has reclaimed his authority to protect rather than exploit. And for Namwook, such a cancellation would represent his ultimate defeat. A missed party of the grandest kind — a fight night erased from the calendar — would signal the collapse of his management logic. (chapter 69) Yet unlike all the hollow celebrations that came before, this missed event would finally have meaning. It would not be absence through neglect, but absence as recognition: proof that Dan’s life matters more than ritual, profit, or performance.

The Real Parties They Missed

If there was ever a “real” party in Dan’s life, it was the small gathering by the seaside with Heesung, the landlord, and Potato. (chapter 58) A simple evening of drinking and laughter, it gave him a fleeting taste of inclusion outside the world of gyms and hospitals. Yet even this was flawed: Dan’s health made alcohol dangerous, and Jaekyung never knew of the event. For him, it became another missed party, a moment of warmth hidden from his eyes.

The traces of this seaside evening resurface in chapter 78, when Potato joins the fighters to welcome Dan back. Unlike the others, however, he arrives noticeably later. (chapter 78) This delay suggests a split loyalty: while the team is already celebrating, Potato is likely still tied to Heesung, perhaps even speaking to him on the phone. His tardiness betrays how his heart is pulled in two directions — caught between the actor’s orbit and the gym’s renewed center around Dan. Yet the embrace of the fighter, and his tearful reaction at seeing Dan again, show that his real place lies with Team Black. (chapter 78) The return of Dan shifts Potato’s focus: he no longer has to trail after Heesung, but can make his hyung and his own career a priority once more.

And here lies the seed of conflict. In chapter 59, (chapter 59) Potato had made a promise to treat Dan to a meal if he ever returned, squeezing his hand with the sincerity of a puppy. That promise, innocent as it seemed, carried a hidden trap: in Korea, such “treats” almost always involve alcohol. And he could try to recreate the party on the coast. Potato, unaware of Dan’s medical restrictions, may offer him exactly what he must refuse. Only Jaekyung knows the truth of Dan’s fragile health; only he can act as his shield against such misplaced affection. Secondly, Potato possesses pictures of the puppies (chapter 60), which he took on the day one of them died!

What makes this tension more explosive is the role of Heesung. He alone knows that Jaekyung resorted to drinking after Dan’s departure (chapter 58), and his presence ties alcohol directly to the champion’s vulnerability. At the same time, Potato’s loyalty is beginning to shift. He once orbited Heesung like a hidden lover, but Dan’s return rekindles his attachment to the gym and as such will affect his relationship with the gumiho. (chapter 78) The “puppy” now prefers Dan’s company at the gym to the actor’s beck and call. The small seaside party that once united them may become the fault line that divides them: an invitation, a bottle of soju, a clash between past habits and new priorities. For Jaekyung, it will be the ultimate test — not whether he attends the party, but whether he transforms it into something different, a celebration without alcohol, a ritual of care rather than destruction. As you can see, I am expecting the return of the fox Heesung.

And yet, even beyond the noisy welcomes and the hidden seaside gatherings, the theme of absence reaches into the most intimate farewells. When Dan prepares to leave the hospice, he leans toward his grandmother, seeking an embrace, a moment of warmth that could ease the separation. (chapter 78) But she does not return the gesture, as she might believe that he is just holding her straight. Her arms remain still, her body heavy with silence. Instead she talks, urging her grandson to leave the place as quickly as possible. So she doesn’t enjoy this moment. What should have been a small celebration of love — a hug of recognition, a party for two — dissolves into emptiness. Halmoni, who had always claimed to be his anchor, fails to give him the ritual of belonging he craves. The one gesture that could have affirmed their bond is withheld, turning tenderness into yet another missed ceremony.

Hwang Byungchul mirrors this failure in his own way. (chapter 78) Sitting stiffly in his hospital bed, he waves away any possibility of affection. His body language, arms crossed, his words reduced to commands about training, erase the emotional bond that might have connected him to Jaekyung. Where halmoni’s silence is passive, Byungchul’s is active — he refuses intimacy, replacing it with obligation. For both figures, farewell becomes an empty form, stripped of the recognition that makes partings bearable. In these moments, the absence of a hug, the denial of tenderness, is more devastating than the loudest rejection. It is a party that never begins, a rite of passage left unspoken.

This is crucial, because in Korean culture, embraces are rare, and when they occur, they carry profound weight. To hug someone is to cross into genuine intimacy, to declare loyalty and affection without words. The absence of such a gesture from halmoni and the director therefore marks not just emotional distance but outright exclusion. They cannot — or will not — celebrate Dan or Jaekyung as individuals worthy of deep affection. they only know pity, pride or annoyance. Their failure underlines the story’s central rhythm: the rituals that should affirm identity are constantly missed, postponed, or corrupted.

Placed against these failures, the quiet “parties” between Jaekyung and Dan acquire even greater weight. A home-cooked meal,

(chapter 22) (chapter 13) a breakfast in silence (chapter 68), the embraces in the dark (chapter 66) (the wordless recognition of suffering) — these become the true celebrations of Jinx. They lack alcohol, noise, or spectacle, but they carry sincerity. They reveal that belonging can be built not through grand gestures but through repetition, through the transformation of fleeting kindness into ritual. This implies the existence of conscious and choice. And yet, these moments remain fragile. After their return to the penthouse, there is no shared meal, no laughter, only nostalgia and sadness. (chapter 78) Even Jaekyung is troubled by the reminder that Dan’s stay is temporary, as if the very walls of the penthouse resist turning into a home. (chapter 78) In other words, the wolf’s task is no longer to win battles in the ring but to protect these fragile celebrations — to make Dan feel at home, to turn missed hugs into embraces, missed parties into warm meals, missed gestures into habits of care. Only then can the cycle of exclusion be broken. Only then can “The Missed Party” become, at last, a real one.

Conclusion

Both protagonists are marked by missed celebrations. Dan’s life has been a chain of exclusions: fired without farewell, blamed without defense, departing without closure. Even in death — (if we include the theory of his parents’ vanishing), the puppy’s burial — rituals of belonging were denied. Jaekyung, for his part, wins victories without feasts, carrying glory without intimacy.

The fighters and nurses offer illusory parties, mistaking noise for recognition, affection for change. But the true parties are elsewhere: in the puppies’ joyous run, in the hidden rituals of wolf and hamster [the embrace, (chapter 68), the shared meal (chapter 68) and in the landlord’s quiet kindness (chapter 78). For me, it is no coincidence that the senior followed them to the street and waved at them! (chapter 78) He expressed not only his genuine feelings, but also his longing: he hoped to see them soon. He had come to appreciate their presence which is not related to their work. The Missed Party becomes not a single absence, but the haunting rhythm of the entire narrative: recognition always arriving too late, always seen by the wrong eyes. And perhaps the story’s promise lies here — that one day, the real party will finally be held, not in karaoke bars or gym halls, but in the unbreakable bond of two men who learn what true friendship and belonging mean. This means, the more the champion and his fated partner develop new routines, the more it will affect the gym and as such Park Namwook, which can only feel more and more excluded.

PS: If in the next chapter, the night continues, then I can’t shake the feeling that Joo Jaekyung might pat doc Dan’s head and not yank his hair, like he announced it. (chapter 78)

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Birth of the Shotgun 🔫🪨 (part 1)

Reading a Life Through Glimpses

Baek Junmin is not a character the story introduces directly, yet his presence has cast a long and invisible shadow over Joo Jaekyung’s life. Though he appears in only a handful of chapters—47, 49, 51, 52, and 73 [I am excluding the match]—his role is far from minor. He is, in fact, one of the main invisible architects of the champion’s trauma and jinx, the one who once stood across from him on a night that would shape the course of both their lives. Long before he was known as the Shotgun, Baek Junmin might have pulled the trigger on something else entirely: the last remnant of Jaekyung’s innocence. (chapter 73) Their violent encounter may have led to the vanishing of the young boy’s smile, replacing it with the hardened scowl of the Emperor, the tyrant in the ring. (chapter 1) If Hwang Byungchul gave Jaekyung the tools to fight, Baek Junmin gave him the reason to fight like a bloodthirsty tyrant. He did not simply scar the soul — he engraved rage into the champion’s core. The tragedy is that Joo Jaekyung never even learned his name. Thus he didn’t react to his name, only to his face and his smile. (chapter 47) And yet, Baek Junmin reappears, not as a stranger, but as the remnant of a past that refuses to stay buried. Additionally, he appears only through the narration of others (fighter) (chapter 47) or in flashes (chapter 73) — a gesture here, a line there (chapter 73) — before vanishing again. To understand him, we have to read between the panels, compare the boy we meet in episode 73 (chapter 73) to the man who resurfaces much later. (chapter 47) This is how we catch glimpses of him — by holding the present up against the past, by noticing what has changed and what has stayed the same.

The clues are scattered like pieces of a puzzle: a way of standing, the choice of clothing, how he hides among others or suddenly steps forward, the company he keeps. Each fragment feels small on its own, but when placed side by side, they begin to sketch an evolution — not told directly, but implied.

And like any puzzle, the final picture depends on how the pieces are arranged. What follows is the story that emerges when I fit these fragments together — a version that exists only because I chose to see the connections this way.

The Ears: Traces of Unspoken Fights

Though his hoodie and shadowed posture attempt to conceal him, Baek Junmin’s body betrays traces of a buried past. (chapter 73) A careful look at his face in chapter 73 reveals the early signs of cauliflower ear, particularly on the right side—a subtle swelling, the deformed curvature of the cartilage. These are not the ears of a novice. They speak of blows taken in silence, of matches fought outside the spotlight. (chapter 73) Such an injury is not congenital, nor cosmetic. It is the ear’s irreversible memory of repeated trauma, often earned through unregulated or unsupervised fighting.

This visual clue confirms what his words and clothes only hint at: (chapter 73) Baek Junmin was already an illegal fighter before becoming The Shotgun. And yet, unlike Joo Jaekyung—whose cauliflower ears are far more pronounced (chapter 47) than Junmin’s ears (chapter 49) Jaekyung’s ears mark him as a champion who faced real opponents in real matches, many of them brutal. His injuries are the price of transparency, visibility, and legitimacy. They are scars earned in the light, while Baek Junmin is supposed to be a novice. (chapter 47)

This contrast exposes the truth. Not only Baek Junmin’s ears were the evidence of a long career in the ring (illegal fights), yet they feel more secretive—a residue of unsanctioned violence and criminality. If Jaekyung’s ears are a badge of honesty and legality, Junmin’s are a whisper of something illicit. They suggest that while the fights may have been real (death), the stage was hidden. (chapter 47) His damage was earned in the shadows and in staged fights manipulated by higher powers. (chapter 47)

The Face – From Full to Hollow

The first thing that changes is his face. (chapter 73)

As a teenager, Baek Junmin has fuller cheeks and healthy skin—a face still marked by youth and perhaps untouched by prolonged hardship. But years later, his skin adult face is hollowed out. (chapter 49) His cheeks have sunk, his jaw stands out more sharply, and his features seem carved by something deeper than age. This is not the look of someone forced to cut weight for competition, (chapter 37), for the new rising star is already much smaller and thinner than the protagonist. (chapter 49) It’s more likely the result of long-term stress, emotional corrosion, or drug use.

But it’s not just the face that speaks—it’s the context in which these bodies live.

In chapter 73, Park Juho casually offers drugs to Joo Jaekyung, claiming (chapter 73) This line is telling. It reveals not only the normalization of drug use among these teenagers, but also how intimately it’s tied to fighting. Juho isn’t offering an escape—he’s offering a tool. For him, drugs aren’t about rebellion or recreation; they are a performance enhancer. They’re marketed as part of the fighter’s toolkit.

This moment confirms that in the environment where Baek Junmin came of age, violence and substance use are not only linked—they are institutionalized. The discipline of the gym has been replaced by street rules, where the edge you gain doesn’t come from technique, but from chemical courage. And Park Juho is no outsider: he was once a member of the gym. His descent—and his promotion of drugs under the guise of athletic benefit—reflects the rot that spreads when survival replaces structure and true care.

In contrast, Joo Jaekyung—despite the violence of his career—has retained a kind of “babyfaced” youthfulness. (chapter 44) His skin is clearer, his features softer, and his face shows fewer signs of internal collapse. This is the effect of healthy food, structured discipline, clean training, and perhaps even emotional restraint. While Junmin’s face has been thinned by chaos, Jaekyung’s has been preserved by control. Under this light, it becomes comprehensible why the athlete fell in love with doc Dan at first sight. Despite being older, (chapter 7) the “hamster” still carries a baby face: a visual marker of youth, innocence, and gentleness. He embodies everything the Shotgun does not: vulnerability without corruption, softness without vice. If Baek Junmin stands for a corrupted adulthood — weapons (The Shotgun), shadows, and counterfeit gold — then Kim Dan, by contrast, becomes the sanctuary of all that was lost: the child, the smile, the safe bed.

Even before the gloves go on, the face tells the story: Baek Junmin’s path diverged long ago. He didn’t just take hits—he absorbed a life that ate away at him from the inside.

The Boy in the Hoodie

The first time we see the young Baek Junmin, he is not framed as a fighter. There are no gloves on his hands, no stance that invites a challenge. He is simply there — standing off to the side, wrapped in a black hoodie whose shadow swallows his shoulders and the line of his jaw. The garment is loose enough to blur the contours of his body, turning him into a shape rather than a figure.

His appearance captures the essence of what English calls “keeping a low profile.” But in French, the idiom garder un profil bas unfolds with even greater nuance—each of its synonyms revealing a different facet of his behavior and circumstances. Se faire discret (to make oneself discreet), être modeste (“to be modest”), rester dans l’ombre (to stay in the shadows), and ne pas attirer l’attention (to avoid attracting attention) all resonate with how he moves through this scene. The hoodie conceals his expression, his posture erases his presence, and his silence blends him into the background (“fade into the background“). He appears modest (être modeste), even passive —yet this modesty is not a personality trait, but a form of self-erasure taught by danger. He has become so invisible that he has succeeded in being forgotten (se faire oublier = to keep a low profile). Years later, when he finally stands before the protagonist again, the champion doesn’t recognize him. But Baek Junmin remembers. His question in chapter 49 (chapter 49) reveals that anonymity was never his desire. It was his sentence.

Why was he hiding? The answer lies in the world he came from. As hinted in chapter 18, (chapter 18) criminals don’t want attention. They avoid the law. They train their subordinates to vanish, to move through shadows, to speak only when spoken to. Baek Junmin wasn’t just playing a role —he was surviving a system that required him to erase himself. His hoodie was not simply clothing; it was a muzzle, a shadow he had to wear. That’s why the protagonist has not made a connection between his nemesis Baek Junmin and a Korean gang yet. (chapter 69) How is this possible, when it is clear that the antagonist is already a thug? It is because Joo Jaekyung has no idea about his true identity. He only knows him as a cheater and liar!! (chapter 51) In the past, he bought someone… but let’s return our attention to the past.

In a scene where others choose to stand out — one boy in white, another in red — (chapter 73) he blends in by choice. Black is not a neutral here; it is a decision to recede, to be part of the backdrop. The fabric pools around his hands, hiding the skin, while the hood hangs like an unspoken “no comment.” Even when he speaks, it is without volume or force. (chapter 73) His role in the exchange is that of a conduit — not the source, not the decision-maker, but the man in between. Striking is that another French synonym for “to keep a low profil” is “staying quiet” (se tenir coi) or “making himself small” (se faire tout petit) which totally reflects this scene.

And yet, he is not one of the low-tier errand boys either because he knows a higher-up (“his hyung”) (chapter 73) His positioning in the group is telling: physically closer to the speaker of authority, not lumped with the ones who will later be sent to do the dirty work. He is high enough to be trusted, low enough to avoid exposure. The hierarchy is implicit, mapped not by dialogue but by body placement. However, let us not get deceived. Despite Park Juho’s seemingly confident address—“Your hyung”—a closer look at the actual power dynamics reveals something far more fragile and unstable. (chapter 73) In the panel where Park Juho seeks verbal confirmation (“Right, Junmin?”), Baek Junmin’s response is subdued and minimal: “Yeah, that’s right.” He can just confirm what the other said. In fact, he is merely echoing the boy’s words—repeating them rather than asserting his own. This is not the confident affirmation of someone in control, nor the proud acknowledgment of a respected enforcer. It is the submissive response of someone complying with expectations, playing a role assigned to him—one he does not command.

Moreover, the fact that Baek Junmin physically removes his hood at that moment (chapter 73) —exposing his face—feels less like a gesture of confidence and more like a necessary performance to project even a semblance of authority. But that display only reveals how hollow his authority truly is. The power rests elsewhere: with the unnamed hyung behind the scenes.

This moment shatters any illusion that Baek Junmin has standing in the criminal underworld. He is no legend—just a middleman, entirely expendable. His presence, reduced to compliance and posturing, contrasts sharply with that of Park Juho. Though younger, Park Juho is no longer passive. He is making decisions, initiating conversation, and trying to recruit a new member. His behavior signals an emerging agency. In fact, Juho is gradually stepping into the very role Baek Junmin once tried to fill—but failed to claim. (chapter 73) The balance of power is shifting in real time, and Junmin seems to be on the verge of being silently replaced. This explains his intervention at the end. He doesn’t want a new recruit because he fears in him a rival.

There is another subtle but telling detail in this scene: the antagonist is introduced simply by his first name—Junmin. On the surface, this might suggest familiarity or equality. Yet this lack of a full name also reveals something deeper. It speaks to the absence of legacy, the absence of recognition. Junmin already has the ears of a fighter (chapter 73), this means that he is already fighting in the illegal underground ring, but he has no name that echoes his “success”. He is not the legend in the Gwanwon Province yet. (chapter 47) He is a man without renown, without lineage, this explicates why he is involved in drug dealing. This anonymity stands in sharp contrast to Joo Jaekyung, whose name will soon be attached to his first tournament win, marking the beginning of a visible, documented ascent, though I don’t think, the main lead will ever come to enjoy his victory… Not only because of his father’s death… but because of the Shotgun! My theory is that The Shotgun will make him lose his “trophy”, his victory! I will explain it further below!

Anyway, Junmin’s namelessness foreshadows his descent into the shadows, while Jaekyung’s path points toward visibility, acclaim, and transformation into a symbol: fame and success. He will be able to live out his father’s dream. (chapter 73) And notice that the legend is trapped to a province, indicating that he could never make it out of there like the champion! Therefore it already implies that the future “Shotgun”‘s association with the hyung is not based on loyalty or mutual respect—it is circumstantial, even transactional. It is about money and usefulness. And now, you comprehend why Baek Junmin’s position in this gang is quite precarious.

In this light, Junmin’s silence and brief confirmation expose his true position: subordinate, replaceable, and dispensable. He is not the king of this realm, but already a shadow… almost like a ghost! He’s lingering on the margins of both the law and the underworld, hovering between anonymity and infamy. After his painful encounter with Joo Jaekyung, he was told to keep a low profile. And he succeeded. He disappeared so thoroughly that not even Joo Jaekyung, whose life he once upended, could remember him. He ghosted himself (another synonym for keep a low profile) into oblivion—until the day he was reloaded.

Years later, he emerges again—but this time as a tool. Yet, I have the feeling that this man has always been a device, yet he failed to grasp his true position, as he has always faded into the background and copied others. Though he was never prosecuted for the deaths mentioned in chapter 47, (chapter 47), the five tattooed lines above his eye silently proclaim his kill count: 5 people. (chapter 73) That’s the same number of persons in the dark alley, when you exclude Joo Jaekyung and Baek Junmin (chapter 73) He has crossed the line: he entered the criminal world for good. Now he is no longer just a ghost, but a weapon with a body count. And this is precisely why his transformation into the Shotgun carries such grim symbolic weight. (chapter 49) A shotgun isn’t a subtle weapon—but it can be precise. It is powerful, direct, and designed for maximum impact at close range. In that sense, Baek Junmin isn’t just any tool—he is a weapon that must be pointed by someone else. His value doesn’t lie in legacy or longevity. It lies in the force he delivers when fired. He doesn’t aim; he is aimed. And like any tool of destruction, he can be reused, discarded, or silenced as needed. His body may carry tattoos and scars, but he has no voice in the system that uses him. Thus I deduce that this nickname was not entirely chosen by Baek Junmin, he was definitely influenced by his surrounding and he agreed to it, not realizing the true symbolism behind this name. Note that his nickname was only revealed, when he faced his nemesis. The target was the Emperor.

What makes this image linger is not just the hoodie (chapter 73), but what lies at its hemline: garbage bags. Stacked casually against the wall, their plastic skins catch stray glints of light. They are not the clean, tied-off kind; their surfaces are rumpled, slack in places, suggesting that some are only half full. It is a setting that smells — even if the page is silent — of neglect.

Garbage is not a neutral backdrop either. In visual storytelling, it speaks of disposability, of things used and discarded, of value extracted and then abandoned. And here, it frames Baek Junmin as much as the hoodie does. He is in this environment, not passing through it. Thus this motive appears once again: The refuse mirrors his role: useful for a time, easy to replace, meant to be kept out of sight until needed. It foreshadows what will happen to him years later, when he too will be treated as disposable by the very people who profited from him. (chapter 52) Note that Director Choi Gilseok doesn’t express concern for Baek Junmin, his attention is on the Emperor!

If we look carefully, the hoodie and the garbage share a function: both conceal. The hoodie hides the individual; the garbage hides the traces of past actions. Together, they create a space where identity and accountability dissolve. It also exposes his moral corruption.

This is the Baek Junmin we meet first — not the legend of the underground fighting circuit, not The Shotgun. He is almost anti-spectacle. And that is precisely why the contrast with his future self (chapter 47) — gold chains glinting, tattoos displayed, chin raised — feels so stark. To move from this shadow into the spotlight means something happened in between, something that flipped his calculation about visibility.

But for now, in this first glimpse, he is a boy learning the rules of survival: keep close to the powerful, keep your profile low, and never draw attention to yourself unless you can win the moment you do.

He doesn’t even enter the scene until the champion is gone. Joo Jaekyung has already brushed off the offer of drugs, already walked away into the dark, by the time Baek Junmin makes his approach. (chapter 73) This timing matters. It means the two men share a street that night but not a glance — the main lead never sees him, never knows they have crossed paths. And now, you know why the Shotgun could never forget him: a source of threat. This contrast exposes the truth: Not only the future Shotgun was already a thug, who kept his true nature well hidden, but also Joo JAekyung was totally misjudged: he is far from being a thug! He is totally honest (chapter 47),he doesn’t take pride in killing someone.

And yet, from Baek Junmin’s perspective, the scene in episode 73 is their first meeting. So he was never part of the “Hwang Buyngchul’s boxing studio”. For Joo Jaekyung, it is nothing — an evening that passes without incident. But this imbalance changes everything. When we later see them square off in the present-day hallway, it becomes clear that Baek Junmin is fighting a private, unfinished battle. (chapter 49)

The scene in chapter 73 becomes the prologue to a hidden chronology. Since the champion’s nemesis implied in the hallway that they had met personally before (chapter 49) and there was no direct interaction between them in the street, I come to the conclusion that their past must have crossed a second time between these two meetings. If we take the hallway encounter as their third meeting (chapter 49), there must have been at least a second — brief, sharp, and wounding enough to carve itself into Baek Junmin’s memory while leaving no conscious trace in Joo Jaekyung’s. The difference is telling: what the champion repressed, the Shotgun carried it like a scar. It means Baek Junmin knows more about him than the reverse, and every glare, every barb he throws later is sharpened by a history Joo Jaekyung couldn’t anticipate they share

The street itself is dim, (chapter 73) lit only in patches, with more shadow than clarity. In this kind of setting, the black hoodie becomes something more than clothing — it is camouflage. He is not merely wearing the dark; he is using it, letting the folds of fabric and the absence of light blur his edges. It is as if he intends to merge with the scenery, to be just another shadow leaning against the wall. This double concealment — in time and in space — ensures that, for now, he remains invisible to the one person whose attention he will one day crave. He began in the shadows not just by circumstance but by mandate. Yet as the boy in the hoodie fades into memory, a new figure will eventually emerge from those shadows—not to hide, but to strike. And he will no longer wear a hood. He will wear scars.

The Scar and the Tattoos: Carved Memory and Symbolic Death

In his youth, Baek Junmin bore no huge visible tattoos. (chapter 73) He only has a small one under the eye in the shape of a cross, an ambiguous symbol that could suggest death, a target or “devotion” (for the mafia). It was modest, even fearful. He seemed reluctant to mark his body, as though he feared being publicly identified as a thug or linked too closely to the criminal underworld. This caution contrasts starkly with his present appearance. (chapter 47) Now, his skin is heavily inked: an Oni demon slashes across his throat, a clear invocation of Japanese yakuza imagery and underground death culture. [For more read the essay Angels of Death: Shadows versus Serenity] So his transformation tells a story.

When Baek Junmin reappears in the present timeline (chapter 49), the change in his face is immediate and inescapable (chapter 73) — but only if we hold his past up against his present. The teenager in the black hoodie had smooth skin and no visible tattoos beyond a small mark under one eye, a calculated restraint that kept him from looking fully “claimed” by the underworld he moved in. His portray contrasts so much to the other teenager whose legs are covered by huge tattoos. (chapter 73) Now, Junmin’s face carries something far less deliberate: a scar running across his forehead above his right eye, a permanent reminder of an encounter that went violently wrong.

This is where the knife enters the story. Not as a vague metaphor for danger, but as an object with a history. We know Baek Junmin favors blades (chapter 47) — the demon tattoo on his throat clutches a knife between its teeth, a design too precise to be coincidence. In woodcarving, strokes are often carved with blades; in Baek Junmin’s case, the scar is a carving on flesh, an unwanted engraving that cannot be sanded smooth. The placement of the tattoo directly on his throat is almost poetic: the story of that scar is something he cannot speak, lodged like the blade between the demon’s teeth.

But the knife in Jinx carries an even sharper meaning. Hwang Byungchul once described the city as a cutthroat place — (chapter 72) and in this context, “cutthroat” is more than an idiom. It hints at the lurking threat of blades, at encounters in alleys and side streets where victory is stolen through speed and treachery. Joo Jaekyung has walked those streets without incident (chapter 72) (chapter 73) in the present timeline, but an assault there can happen any time.

And now, let me ask you where a knife was used before in the Manhwa? Naturally when the hero faced Heo Manwook (chapter 17) And what did the loan shark tell him before provoking him? (chapter 17) Based on the champion’s facial expression after hearing Heo Manwook’s questions, it becomes clear that Joo Jaekyung experienced in the past a scene where he faced a knife and his head was smashed with a bottle of soju. The criminals are recognizable due to their tattoos and their weapons, the knife! And the logic of the knife in this world is telling: as Heo Manwook showed (chapter 17), it appears when a fight is already lost. It is not a weapon of open combat, but of pride and desperation — a way to cheat fate when skill is not enough. Moreover, he was particularly vicious here. He attacked the champion from behind, a treacherous move. As you can see, the knife is strongly intertwined with the underworld, deception and cowardice.

You can actually detect many parallels between the argument with the champion’s father and the fight at doc Dan’s humble house: the twilight, the smashing of a bottle of soju on the head, (chapter 73) (chapter 17), a head injury (chapter 73), insults and provocations (chapter 73), (chapter 17) and finally an allusion to the “maker”, god versus father. (chapter 17) and finally DEATH!! (chapter 73) The loan shark was diminishing the young man’s skills and that his success was FAKE! Why? It is because the outcome was predicted. The winner and loser would already be determined.

And here the past/present contrast becomes more than physical. In his youth, he avoided conspicuous tattoos, perhaps to maintain a veneer of respectability and legitimacy — to pass under the radar, even as he acted as a middleman for his hyung. The black hoodie, the sparse ink, the way he let others handle the dirty work of selling drugs — all of it kept him in the gray zone, unremarkable to outsiders, even to Joo Jaekyung. But the scar changes that. A face without scars can blend in; a face with one becomes a story waiting to be told.

The most visible shift in his face is the scar on his forehead—a wound likely inflicted by Joo Jaekyung during their violent, knife-laced fight. Junmin must have decided to use it, when he felt threatened… but it backfired on him. This scar became a permanent reminder of his defeat, carved into flesh like a shameful birthmark. Its position on the forehead makes it impossible to ignore. It not only mars his appearance, but becomes an emblem of inferiority: a symbol that the world (and Baek Junmin himself) can see.

The connection between scar and the tattoo is more than symbolic—it’s thematic. Both involve penetration, cutting, and permanence. In Korean and Japanese culture, many traditional tattoos were made by hand, with needles or even small blades. (chapter 47) The Oni tattoo on Baek Junmin’s throat, where the demon wields a knife, is thus a mirror to his own scar: an acknowledgment of pain and an attempt to reclaim it as power. But there’s a paradox here. The tattoo shouts violence, but the original wound whispered shame. One was chosen; the other was inflicted. The thug is damned to keep this “humiliation” secret.

But his facial transformation doesn’t stop at the scar and the demon ink. Look closer, and you’ll see two small black dots beneath his right eye (chapter 49) —subtle, easily overlooked, yet loaded with meaning. These dots form a quiet counterpoint to the earlier cross tattoo under his left eye. They mirror each other, as if Junmin were trying to impose a kind of symmetry on his face—like a man seeking order through symbols after chaos has marred him. Their placement, right next to the scar, suggests something more: a visual strategy. Perhaps they are meant to divert attention from the wound, reframing the narrative of the face so the scar becomes part of a larger aesthetic rather than a standalone blemish.

Tattoo culture often loads such markings with coded meaning. In some circles, dots under the eye mimic teardrop tattoos, carrying associations of vengeance, mourning, or lived violence. It was, as if the criminal wanted to hide his “tears” and suffering. But Baek Junmin’s dots stop at two, not three—a gesture that resists completion. It’s as though he’s gesturing toward a story without finishing it, marking himself as wounded yet unfinished: they indicate his revenge. If the cross once stood for death or sacrifice, these dots represent his attempt to balance or bury that meaning, even as they draw the viewer’s eye to the very place he was disfigured. His body, and especially his face, has become a site of symbolic warfare—a battlefield of meaning, where shame, defiance, and imitation collide.

Contrast this with Joo Jaekyung, who also bore no tattoos in his youth. (chapter 73) Over time, the champion chose protective symbols— clouds and a dragon-like mask—tattoos designed not to intimidate but to shield. (chapter 1) (chapter 17) They represent protection, not aggression. Where Baek Junmin’s tattoos speak of death and destruction, Jaekyung’s express escape, survival and resilience. Even in their body art, the two boys tell opposing stories: one driven by resentment and darkness, the other by endurance and self-preservation.

But there is more. Baek Junmin’s body itself has become the evidence of a crime—his tattoos and scars forming a visual confession of his descent and his affiliations. Unwittingly, those who empowered him also helped preserve these signs. The very schemers who turned him into a weapon ensured he would one day become proof of their own corruption. In that sense, Baek Junmin truly is a shotgun—not just a tool of violence, but a loaded narrative, ready to backfire on those who pulled the trigger. Moreover, let’s not forget that the CEO vouched for Baek Junmin. (chapter 47) That’s the reason why the lady in red had to defend the Shotgun’s reputation and honor. (chapter 69) Nevertheless, they are here buying time. How so? If the champion were to fight again and even lose, they could bury the investigations. They were also biding time in order to stop investigations and the involvement of the media.

The shift in Baek Junmin’s appearance—from a cautious, hoodie-wearing boy to a tattoo-covered, self-styled villain—maps a descent into self-loathing and performative masculinity. He mimicked the criminal codes around him, but it was a copy without conviction. Hence years later, he is seen wearing a counterfeit Gucci t-shirt and fake jewels. (chapter 47) Is it a coincidence that back then one of the minions was wearing a fake Gucci t-shirt either? (chapter 73) No… he is copying others and in particular Joo Jaekyung whom he resents. Thus their attitude in the ring is similar (ruthless), yet both act that way for different reasons: pain and seriousness (chapter 15) versus fun and schadenfreude (chapter 47). His new persona feels exaggerated, theatrical, hollow. He wanted to become unforgettable, but ended up being another disposable fighter in a system that only remembers champions. Now, his face is ruined: he lost teeth and has a broken nose. (chapter 52) He can never look attractive again, hence he lost his value as MMA fighter for good. Despite the incident, Joo Jaekyung is still popular because he looks so young: (chapter 57) Hence the nurse felt sympathy for him. At the health center, he received his long due punishment. Baek Junmin learned through the hard way what it means fighting without rules. He got deceived himself, thinking that his “hyung” would have his back.

The irony is that the origin of his scar is one Baek Junmin cannot tell without exposing a deeper connection to his past and his criminal ties. And that would be “rigging a game”, making Joo Jaekyung lose his trophy! That’s why the ghost said this: (chapter 54) These words imply that the outcome was predicted… That’s the reason why Joo Jaekyung needs to remember the past. There lies the truth: they are “rigging the games because of bets!

And if our earlier deduction is correct — that the scar was the result of their unrecorded second meeting — then this is not just a wound, but the physical trace of their asymmetrical history. For Joo Jaekyung, that meeting was so brief, so quickly buried, that it left no visible mark. Yet don’t think, he was not traumatized. This changed the athlete forever. For Baek Junmin, it was formative, humiliating, unforgettable. The scar becomes both a reminder of his defeat and a motive for his revenge. (chapter 49) Imagine that the man has to see this scar on his face each day… the symbol of his defeat.

In this light, the knife and the scar are not separate symbols but intertwined: the weapon that failed him, the mark that betrays him, and the silence that binds them together. And now, you comprehend why he selected the Shotgun as stage name. It was to end his “curse”, living in the shadow of the celebrity.

The Shadow Trio: Joo Jaewoong, Baek Junmin, and the Ghost

Baek Junmin’s story becomes even more compelling (chapter 47) when set against two spectral figures in Jinx: the ghost (chapter 54) and Joo Jaekyung’s father, Joo Jaewoong. (chapter 73) These three form a symbolic trio—each marked by violence, marginalization, and a desire to escape the suffocating grip of their environment. Their most immediate shared trait? A smile that feels wrong. A grin not born of joy, but of cruelty, mockery, or powerlessness. Furthermore, all three are associated with trash and garbage: (chapter 47) (chapter 54) (chapter 72) Their words or flat reflect their mindset and role. They are waste, once used, they can be discarded. For me, it becomes obvious that the ghost from the champion’s nightmare is a combination of Joo Jaewoong and The Shotgun. Besides, observe how the father’s corpse (chapter 73) resembles to the “Shotgun” after receiving his “karma”: (chapter 52) Thus I deduce that Baek Junmin’s destiny was to go down the same path of Joo Jaewoong, unless he realizes the real root of his misery!

But let’s return our attention to the grins. The latter are paired with insults—bitter, scornful language that aims not only to hurt but also to humiliate. In all three, we detect a mix of resentment and impotence. And it’s no coincidence that all three are linked to the boxing world: (chapter 54), the father with his fading trophy, Baek Junmin with his own unspoken history in the underground ring and the ghost’s words linked to the champion’s hands. Together, they symbolize the toxic underbelly of combat sports, the place where dreams are sold and consumed.

But this trio isn’t a perfect mirror. There are divergences. Joo Jaewoong, though broken and addicted, had once been a professional athlete. (chapter 73) He had a past worth remembering—something he even clung to in his ruined apartment, preserving his medal and document like a relic. Baek Junmin, by contrast, never belonged to the gym. He wasn’t trained. He never received formal recognition. He fought in shadows, kept to the margins, and remained a “legend” only in the backrooms of Gangwon’s illegal rings because he trusted his “hyung”.

Joo Jaewoong also carried a paradox. He warned his son against the very path he had taken. He knew where it led—through the hands of people toward the underworld. (chapter 73) And yet he couldn’t resist gambling, drinking, or slipping further into that decay. He never kept a low profile. Baek Junmin, too, sought a way out. He almost wore no tattoos back then. His hoodie was black. He preferred to remain invisible. Unlike the younger thugs around him, he wasn’t flaunting power. He was navigating survival. His strategy was to stay hidden long enough to escape. Yet, deep down, (chapter 49). he desired to have a real title and admiration. (chapter 47)

But then something happened. He encountered Joo Jaekyung. And from that moment on, the fantasy of neutrality—the ability to remain on the fence—was destroyed. That’s why he approached Park Juho and questioned his actions afterwards. My avid readers will certainly recall my essay: Facing The Shotgun: Embracing Change The blond haired fighter embodies Change! Their fight which ended with a wound changed everything. Baek Junmin was defeated, scarred, exposed. And the shadows no longer provided cover.

That encounter became the turning point. While Joo Jaewoong gave up on boxing and rotted quietly, Baek Junmin doubled down on resentment and descent. If he couldn’t rise as a legitimate athlete, then he would find power elsewhere—on his own terms. (chapter 47) He wouldn’t become a better fighter; he would become a cheater. His new arena would be modeled after the streets: no rules, no weight classes, no referees. (chapter 47) His ring resembled the very fight that had marked his downfall—the alley, the knife, the shame. Yet here, surrounded by darkness and silence, he could finally rewrite the story. The violence felt earned now. People even died in these fights. To him, this was proof that his victories were real. Hence he smirked. (chapter 47) He couldn’t see that he had merely traded structure for spectacle, skill for savagery. He had confused bloodshed with honor. He was not an athlete, simply a thug.

He remained trapped in the same province, unable to leave (chapter 47)—but now he carried his own name. Baek Junmin! He is no longer Junmin, a teenager who tried to stay in the gray zone! But when he was televised, when the mobsters decided to polish his image and set him against the Emperor, he was reborn: The Shotgun. The stage name marks a shift—not just in visibility, but in function. He was no longer hiding. He could be seen, and therefore used. But by using his real name, he never realized that he could now be prosecuted. (chapter 47) He started dirtying his hands for the high-rollers.

From Junmin to Baek Junmin to The Shotgun—his very name charts a descent. He lost not only his identity, but his humanity. And perhaps most tragically, he never realized the extent of his manipulation. The high rollers never intended to hand him the champion belt. Their goal had been a tie (chapter 51) all along—a spectacle, not a coronation. Hence director Choi was overjoyed when he heard the verdict.(chapter 52) That’s why he earned a lot of money. They used this fight to remove the Emperor from the stage quietly. It was time for him to give up on his throne. If they had let Baek Junmin win the fight, people would have questioned the referees. The Shotgun was there to prepare the coup d’Etat, hence the new champion is someone else. Joo Jaekyung wouldn’t remain so calm hearing this: (chapter 69) They knew the Shotgun wasn’t strong enough. But he didn’t. He mistook cheating for skill. He mistook chaos for greatness. He believed he had earned what was scripted all along.

The Shotgun, the Ghost, and the Father—each longed to be seen. Each was eclipsed by Joo Jaekyung. And all three tried, in their own way, to mark or damage him. They resented him for his “talent, dream and happiness”. But the irony is bitter: none of them succeeded in shaping the Emperor. They only reflected what he overcame.

Hence he became the legend (chapter 47) in the illegal fighting ring, located in Gangwon

This very trait—keeping a low profile— was what initially distinguished him from Joo Jaewoong. The latter imagined that through admiration and recognition, he would get rich. That way, he would leave the place. (chapter 73) However, the opposite happened. Why? Through boxing, he came in touch with the criminal world. Striking is that in the beginning, Joo Jaewoong did the exact opposite to the Shotgun. He became famous because of his self-destructive behavior: (chapter 72) This explicates why Hwang Byungchul condemned the man and sided with the mother. But while Joo Jaewoong and Baek Junmin tried to escape through the sport, they both ended up in the criminal network. And neither made it out.

What unites all three—ghost, boxer, and Shotgun—is their resent towards the main lead. None of them intended to grow old in the same town, under the same weight of poverty, violence, and anonymity. Yet none succeeded. Baek Junmin never made it past the provincial legend status, until he was called to Seoul and brought to MFC. He may have become infamous, but he was never international. Hence the last match took place in Thailand… they were hoping that the new champion would get famous internationally. In the end, their stories are fragments of the same fate: young men crushed by the very world they hoped to transcend.

Conclusion to Part 1: The Puzzle

If Baek Junmin’s character feels complex, it is because he is built like a puzzle—fragmented, hidden, and deeply contradictory. Some pieces lie in the past; others only emerge in his present incarnation. We found signs in his tattoos, in the black hoodie, in the garbage-strewn street, and even in his silence. Each glimpse offered a new facet, and every comparison with Joo Jaekyung and Joo JAewoong cast another shadow into view.

But in the end, the puzzle you’ve read was not just Mingwa’s doing. It was also mine. This is only one way of assembling the fragments.

In the second part, I will try to bring the pieces closer together—to lay out what I believe truly happened between Baek Junmin and the Emperor, and how the Shotgun was born not in glory, but in humiliation.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Other, Hidden Door 🚪 to the Past 🏛️

The composition opens with a visual puzzle: a collage of doors, house numbers, and figures caught mid-motion. At first glance, the images appear disconnected, yet the arrangement and title invite my avid readers to look again. What connects the blue gate in the seaside town, a young man hesitating before a door, and two house number plaques: 7-12 and 33-3? One Jinx-phile on X, @Jaedan4ever, insightfully noted that “7-12” (chapter 65) corresponds to the release of Jinx Chapter 70, which marked the series’ return after a three-month hiatus. This observation is more than clever numerology—it mirrors the manhwa’s deeper message: the past always haunts the present, and at times, it even foreshadows the future. And that’s exactly what I will do in this essay. I propose that the key to understanding the protagonists and characters’ evolving identities lies in the overlooked architectural and administrative details—especially the house numbers, door placements, and legal ownership of space. These seemingly minor visual cues are in fact loaded with meaning, offering insight into how home, memory, and identity are fragmented and reassigned across time and place.

A Mysterious Numbering System: 7-12 vs. 33-3

While the reader focused on 7-12 and the publication of episode 70, something else caught my attention. (chapter 57) The landlord’s house has the number 33-3. Why do two neighboring houses bear such disconnected numbers: 7-12 and 33-3? (chapter 61) For readers unfamiliar with Korea, this looks quite bizarre. In most European and American countries, street addresses follow a linear order; house number 12 would typically be located between 10 and 14. But in Korea, especially in rural areas, many towns use the older jibeon (지번) land-lot numbering system. Here, numbers are based not on street sequence but on the chronological order of land registration and subsequent subdivisions.

At first glance, parcel 7 appears to be registered earlier than parcel 33. Yet there is a twist: the subdivision number attached to 7—namely 12—implies that this plot has been split far more frequently than 33, which is only on its third subdivision. In rural Korea, early subdivisions often indicate inherited land, long-term residency, or family continuity. Later, higher subdivisions tend to signal commercial fragmentation, detachment from familial lineage, and transient habitation—often reflecting rental properties (chapter 62), newer developments, or administrative restructuring rather than deep-rooted inheritance. In this context, a higher subdivision number implies not only later division, but also the erosion of legacy and the weakening of kinship-based territorial claims—an erosion especially poignant in the context of Confucian traditions that once emphasized multi-generational cohabitation and patrilineal inheritance. In classical Korean society, a home was not merely a shelter but a physical emblem of familial continuity, with ancestral rites often performed within the same household across generations. As addresses fragment and land parcels divide, so too does the symbolic structure of the family unit. The once-cohesive ideal of the extended household dissolves into isolated, rented spaces, reflecting not only economic realities but also the fraying of intergenerational bonds and filial authority.

This contrast is reflected in both setting and narrative. Kim Dan lives in house 33-3 with the elderly landlord—a man who is not just a neighbor but likely an old local landholder. (chapter 57) In contrast, the house numbered 7-12, which Jaekyung rents, (chapter 61) has been transformed into a tourist hostel. (chapter 61) Though Jaekyung is a wealthy celebrity, he inhabits a parcel of land that speaks to impermanence and anonymity. Meanwhile, Dan shares space with someone who quietly represents legacy and transparency.

The Blue Gate 7-12

The spatial layout reinforces this: the landlord’s house opens directly onto the street—there is no gate. (chapter 57) This openness reflects a traditional mindset rooted in hospitality and community. By contrast, 7-12 is sealed by a blue metal gate, a clear symbol of privacy, control, and urban values. (chapter 65) But here’s the irony: the gate does not protect the landlord’s legacy from encroachment—it shields the outsider from the town. The presence of the blue gate enclosing 7-12 speaks volumes. In contrast to the landlord’s open home, this barrier reflects the mindset of its builder—the town chief (chapter 62) —who likely anticipated that visitors from the city would prefer privacy. But in attempting to accommodate their expectations, he inadvertently created a symbolic divide. The gate does not just offer seclusion; it enforces a boundary between the guests and the local community. This spatial arrangement, then, subtly underscored the champion’s outsider status. Despite his wealth and fame, he remained separated—literally and figuratively—from the rootedness and communal life that defines the town. This explicates why his direct neighbor didn’t reach out to him right away. He was the last to ask for a favor. (chapter 62) However, this “dynamic” (distinction) began to shift the moment Jaekyung started working for the local residents. (chapter 62) No longer just a “guest” or a “tourist,” he earned their recognition and acceptance through acts of service and humility. (chapter 62) As he helped them with manual tasks—such as lifting goods or assisting the elderly—they started seeing him not as an outsider, but as one of their own. However, it is important to note that these gestures of inclusion occurred while Jaekyung was outside the blue gate (chapter 62) —beyond the formal boundary of the rental property. (chapter 62) In this way, the gate truly functioned as a symbolic threshold: only once he crossed it through action and humility, the community began to approach him. This change in perception was symbolized, when he received vegetables from the townspeople, a traditional gesture of inclusion and local acknowledgment. (chapter 62) Nevertheless, the best sign that he has been accepted by the community is when he received traditional welcome gifts: the toilet paper and detergent. (chapter 69) [For more read Unseen 👀 Savior🦸🏼‍♂️ : The Birth Of Jaegeng (locked)] His physical strength, once used for spectacle and entertainment, now becomes a bridge into the fabric of rural life, exposing his true personality: he is generous and modest. The closed blue gate of the hostel might have marked him as a city dweller at first, (chapter 65) but his actions gradually dissolved that boundary. Therefore it is no coincidence that after the wolf took care of doc Dan during that night (chapter 65), the elderly neighbor chose to open the blue gate shortly after: (chapter 69) Thus I deduce that the blue gate lost its purpose. The champion definitely saw the advantages of the absence of a gate by his neighbor. He could arrive there at any moment (chapter 62) and the landlord never rejected him. In fact, he was always welcome. (chapter 66)

But let’s return to the house numbers and its signification. In this way, 33-3 stands at the crossroads of tradition and change: it is old, but not untouched by rupture. It represents a home that has endured change while maintaining its emotional and social value. This makes it an apt setting for the star and the physical therapist, two individuals who themselves come from fractured emotional lineages—both wounded by broken familial bonds, yet gradually learning to rebuild a form of kinship. That number becomes a silent metaphor for their coexistence: the wolf and the hamster, sharing not blood but space, trust, and now roots.

Father, Son and Ancestor: 33-3

Numerologically, “33” itself can evoke multiple layers of meaning. In some interpretations, 33 is a master number, associated with healing, altruism, and emotional growth. It is also a number of spiritual maturity—hinting at a kind of “final trial” before enlightenment. That fits the evolution of both characters. And the number 3, repeated, might subtly allude to the Christianism (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) or Confucian triad—father, son, and ancestor—or more abstractly, to harmony among heaven, earth, and humanity. With Jaekyung and Dan forming a new domestic unit under the benevolent yet quiet watch of the elderly landlord, we can almost see 33-3 as a broken but reassembled version of the traditional multigenerational household—one not bound by blood, but by mutual recognition and earned care.

Thus, 33-3 becomes more than an address. It’s a compact expression of the characters’ trajectory: from scattered and rootless to housed and healing—not in a perfect family, but in a fragile, evolving one. The wolf’s integration is not based on lineage or history, but on community and contribution.

Another layer to the contrast is the identity of the landlord. While the owner of 7-12 is the town chief—someone with institutional power—he is not necessarily the town’s patriarch. His propriety, 7-12, suggests his roots are more administrative than ancestral. He is in charge, but he does not represent continuity. On the other hand, the landlord of 33-3 is mistaken by Choi Heesung for Dan’s grandfather (chapter 59), and townspeople instinctively report Dan’s behavior to him. (chapter 69) I would like to point out that the kind man said “villagers” and not “villager”, a sign that he was contacted by many people. Such recognition is reserved for those woven into the community’s long memory.

This dynamic becomes even more intriguing when we consider how the wolf might have ended up in house 7-12 in the first place. (chapter 61) Given that the rural address system is based on the older jibeon model—and most GPS systems now rely on the newer road-based address format— it is unlikely that Jaekyung could have located Dan’s home through navigation alone. (chapter 61) That’s the reason why the author included this scene. Even if someone had disclosed Dan’s address, the GPS in Jaekyung’s luxury car would not have been able to guide him there. Like mentioned above, the streets have no names, and the numbering lacks logical sequence. Thus, we have to envision how the Emperor followed Dan on foot, observing where he went. In doing so, he not only located the general vicinity. Afterwards, he must have contacted a local and requested for a vacant house close to 33-3. That’s how he found the “hostel” right next door. (chapter 62) No wonder why the athlete stopped his training for his benefactor, the town chief. His act of renting that space was not just about proximity—it was a quiet, determined form of emotional pursuit, bypassing digital maps in favor of personal presence. Once again, this mirrors the emotional structure of the story: Jaekyung could only find the hamster by leaving behind his car (the older version of episode 69 – chapter 69) and walking through the confusion himself.

Finally, this rural numbering system is placed in relief by an urban counterpart. In episode 1, (chapter 1) we see Dan walking under a blue plaque labeled “24”—the newer, street-based system introduced after 2013. This number, part of Seoul’s revised address format, contrasts sharply with the rural jibeon model. Where 7-12 and 33-3 reflect layered histories and family division, “24” is precise, administrative, and arguably impersonal. The place is no longer connected to family and traditions, rather to migration and anonymity. The juxtaposition between systems emphasizes not only physical distance but emotional dislocation.

Shin Okja’s Childhood Town and Numbers

Yet among all these numbered spaces, one person remains strangely untethered: Shin Okja. (chapter 65) Though she insists this seaside town is where she “grew up,” she never identifies a lot number, street, or ancestral parcel. In a rural system where numbers are more than logistical—they are signs of rootedness and intergenerational presence—her vagueness stands out. Everyone else is connected to a numbered gate, a registry, or a mailbox. She alone floats in narrative space, clinging to emotional claims without material proof: no concrete location is brought up. (chapter 57) The contrast becomes sharper when she refers to Seoul only in generic terms. She never mentions a district, (chapter 65), a person (chapter 56), a neighborhood, or specific location. This lack of detail, especially when juxtaposed with the specificity of the rural jibeon system (where even a subdivision number implies lineage and ownership), exposes her rootlessness. It reinforces the idea that her ties to place are performative rather than grounded. Even her nostalgia for Seoul is flattened (chapter 65) into a symbol of urban superiority—money, prestige, modernity—without anchoring it to a real “home.” In short, she idealizes Seoul the way she romanticizes the countryside—selectively, superficially. At the same time, she is giving the impression that she is erasing her stay in Seoul, as if her past there, too, is unmoored. Because of this observation, I realized why the nurse never questioned the senior’s statement. (chapter 56), though she expressed some doubt. By asking for more details, she imagined that she could touch a sensitive topic, like for example loss of her home etc. Shin Okja‘s inability—or refusal—to locate herself within a concrete building and specific numbered system of belonging hints at a deeper truth: Shin Okja may perform the role of native and guardian (chapter 57), but the land does not affirm her story. In Jinx, numbers are roots, and she is rootless. The more she talks about places, the less we see of her in them. She becomes a woman suspended between two worlds, belonging to neither.

Finally, the narrative suggests with the Emperor’s example, rootedness is not determined by a map or a deed, but by how much responsibility and memory one carries. And so far, the halmoni is not contributing much to the little town. She remains in the confines of the hospice. Hence no one among the inhabitants noticed her so-called return to her hometown.

A Numbered Home in Seoul: Whose Name, Whose Burden?

But since the new system is used in Seoul, I wondered about her address and house number. So what was the house number of Shin Okja`s home in the capital? (chapter 17) As Jinx-lovers can detect, next to the entrance of her apartment, there is no blue house number plate or street name. How is that possible in a metropolis where every residence should be digitally registered? And now, pay attention to the house where the “goddess” and her “puppy” lived. (chapter 1) The building had not only two doors, but also the plaque is placed next to the other door. It is also partially visible in this image: (chapter 1)

This raises a series of subtle but important questions. When we see Kim Dan standing in front of the darker, metal-framed door in episode 11 (chapter 11), we naturally assume he is returning home—entering the same shared space he and his grandmother inhabit. But is that actually the case? A closer look reveals he is using the other entrance. On his right side, we see the electricity meter, the mailbox, and the window—the signs of an inhabited and administratively recognized unit. This suggests that Kim Dan’s official residence is behind this second door. Once again, I am showing the view of the same building from a different perspective, (chapter 57) where the mail box and the electricity meter are. But I have another evidence for this observation. During that night, the hamster got assaulted by Heo Manwook and his minions. (chapter 11) And keep in mind that after getting beaten by the Emperor, anyone could recognize the grandmother’s place from outside due to the broken window. (chapter 19) The moment I made this discovery, I couldn’t help myself wondering why doc Dan would go to the other door and not to the halmoni’s room.

And this thought led me to the following deduction. He had been triggered to go to that place because of the phone call from the redevelopment association. (chapter 11) The voice on the phone reveals something legally crucial (chapter 11): Kim Dan is the last remaining resident in that building. That one line reframes everything. This suggests that Kim Dan’s official residence is behind this second door. 😮 In fact, the building features (chapter 57) only one house number plaque, one mailbox, and one electricity meter. These markers aren’t decorative—they are infrastructural indicators tied to administrative systems. In a city like Seoul, this configuration implies a single legally registered unit. So despite there being two entrances, only one household is formally recognized by the system. And since the resident registration system restricts each individual to a single verifiable address, this means only Kim Dan is recorded as the building’s legitimate occupant. The other door—the one associated with Shin Okja—exists outside the scope of legal recognition. She may live there physically (her belongings are still there), but bureaucratically, she doesn’t exist in that space.

Under the Korean Resident Registration System, every citizen must register their place of residence with the local government. Since 1994, this data has been digitized, allowing all state institutions to access and verify a person’s registered address electronically. This information is not symbolic—it is legally binding. Your registered address determines where you pay taxes, vote, access services, and claim benefits. Moreover, because so many government processes now rely on digital access to this central database, only one person can be officially tied to any residential unit at a time. Crucially, it is also a prerequisite for accessing financial credit. One cannot take out a bank loan or act as a legal guardian without a valid, registered place of residence.

This means that in the past, Shin Okja must have been officially registered at the address. (chapter 5) When the loan shark came to collect the interest of the debts during Kim Dan’s childhood, he went straight to her door (chapter 5) —the door that, at the time, likely bore the blue house number plaque.

However, attentive readers will notice a striking detail: the door seen during this childhood memory opens outward toward the viewer and is positioned closed to the left corner, (chapter 5) the door associated with Kim Dan in later episodes—particularly the one through which the champion entered during the confrontation with the thugs —opens inward and is placed in the corner of the right wall. The interior layouts and door directions don’t match, though the furniture is similar. This strongly suggests that these are two different units within the same building, exactly like I had observed before. The “goddess” and the hamster’s house had two doors and as such two units. (chapter 1)

These architectural clues support a subtle but significant shift: Shin Okja once resided in the main unit, the one connected to the official registration and legal address, in other words her initial flat was there. (chapter 11) At that time, Kim Dan, as a child, must have lived in the other unit, the one without number. She was probably taking care of him. However, at some point, she must have switched the place and moved to the other unit. This would explain why doc Dan (chapter 19) had a recollection of this moment, when he was about to leave this humble dwelling. (chapter 19) His move to the penthouse triggered another “move” from the past. Consequently, I am deducing that this souvenir represents the moment of the grandmother’s arrival and the departure of the hamster’s parent(s) from the other unit. But there’s more to it.

Since people are obliged to get a residency number with 17, I am assuming that the halmoni ceded legal registration to him, once he reached his 17th year. Kim Dan took over the smaller, neighboring room officially, and with it, the burden of formal residency. When she relinquished her official role, the system would have required a transfer of household headship and residency—most likely to Kim Dan. In my opinion, she became listed as household members (세대원, saedaewon). They are fully registered, just not as the head. It is important, because in front of the champion, she acts, as if she is still the head of the household (chapter 65) and Kim Dan the immature child, whereas according to my observations, she is legally dependent on the “hamster”. She is just a household member. As you can see, I detected a contradiction between her words and “hidden actions”, all this triggered because of the closed door. By transferring the address and registration to the physical therapist, she made it possible for him to inherit not just the space, but also the liability. That’s why he’s now the only registered person.

Thus, by the time we see Kim Dan revisiting the building (chapter 11), the name tied to the legal system, to the loan, and to the state’s digital records, is his—not hers. This administrative shift allowed Shin Okja to become legally invisible while Dan remained trapped in a place that was once hers, yet bore no official acknowledgment of her presence.

In short, the building’s physical structure masks a deeper displacement. (chapter 1) What appears to be a modest shared home conceals a painful history of passed-down burdens and reallocated responsibilities. The grandmother’s true door is off to the side, connected physically but separated in symbolic meaning. It has no number, no mailbox, no markers of legal presence. This hidden door is a perfect trompe-l’oeil: it masquerades as the heart of the home, but it’s actually a legally invisible annex. The framing invites the viewer to overlook it, just as the narrative invites us to overlook the grandmother’s evasions. And ironically, the one who stayed—the “last resident”—is also the one who was slowly pushed into the background, into the unnumbered space, into silence. And now, you comprehend why the grandmother asked from him this: (chapter 11) When he says “home,” he is referring not just to a physical place, but also to a legal and emotional placeholder—a registration number that ties him to bureaucratic existence, familial duty, and emotional manipulation. With her promise to return in that home, Shin Okja is essentially demanding he remains the legal anchor—the one who stays behind, the one who remains registered, the one who continues to carry the official burdens, even as she herself fades into invisibility. That’s how she became a “carefree” ghost in the end. It wasn’t just a promise of care, but a submission to being tethered—not to belonging, but to obligation masked as love. The irony is that by remaining legally “present,” Dan was emotionally erased.

To conclude, Kim Dan was not just the last physical inhabitant—he is the last legal one. His mailbox, his electricity meter, his official records—all point to the metal-framed door. (chapter 11) That’s where his address was, until he moved to the penthouse. But that’s where the loan is linked. That’s where the city saw him. And because the resident registration is necessary for work and taxes, Kim Dan had to change his resident number, when he moved to the penthouse or to the seaside town. That’s how I came to the following conclusion: Shin Okja must have known about his stay with the champion in the end.The Korean Resident Registration System is the evidence. This shows how important this scene was in season 1. (chapter 11) (chapter 65) In this panel, her words in English were ambiguous, while in the Korean version, the grandmother exposes that she was well aware that her grandson and the emperor would live together.

Still, he gave Dan a place to live, and even a salary…”
“I’m truly sorry and thankful—what can I say.”

This means that the halmoni must be well aware where her grandson is staying in her “hometown” in the end!!

Don’t forget that in South Korea, when a person enters a hospice or hospital, they must provide a valid registered address for several reasons: Health insurance eligibility (National Health Insurance Service); Billing purposes; Coordination of long-term care or welfare benefits; Resident registration confirmation (especially in hospice care, where end-of-life planning intersects with legal identity). She is legally totally dependent on him, and not just financially. So when she suggests to doc Dan to return to Seoul, she is actually denying the existence of a relationship between the physical therapist (chapter 57) and the landlord from 33-3. In fact, she was indirectly expressing a lack of gratitude toward the elderly man.

This realization, the existence of two units within the same building, subtly destabilizes the commonly accepted idea that Shin Okja is his grandmother. I have to admit that while reading episode 57, doubts (chapter 57) about their parentage came to my mind, especially when she claimed that doc Dan had different roots as hers. However, so far, I could never find an evidence for such a theory and imagined that my mind was simply too creative. Yet, with this new insight her role begins to look less like that of a familial guardian, and more like that of a caretaker, a nanny, or even an intruder—someone who moved in but was never truly rooted in Dan’s legal or emotional household. This theory would explain why the grandmother is not talking about doc Dan’s parents, why she remained passive, when he got stigmatized as orphan. She had every reason to suggest that she was enough for him, he just needed her. (chapter 57) That way, he became attached to her. It’s a startling reversal: the woman who claims maternal authority is (chapter 65), in the eyes of the system, merely lodging in his shadow. She is indeed a ghost. (chapter 22) This architectural division is deeply symbolic. Despite being the dependent, Dan is the one bearing responsibility—both financially and administratively. Shin Okja, on the other hand, manages to live without accountability.

And perhaps it’s no coincidence that the Seoul house (chapter 1) resembles the configuration in the small town. (chapter 57) In both cases, the boy lives next to someone who is older, legally distinct, and spatially close yet administratively separate. However, in the capital, the room with the second door is much smaller, as if doc Dan was the “servant”, though he was the main resident and the household head. In the countryside, this creates a healing bond with a benevolent elder. In the city, it sharpens a sense of entrapment. The echo between the two homes becomes a subtle commentary on the difference between chosen family and imposed family, between true guardianship and the performance of care.

And what did Shin Okja say to the Emperor? (chapter 65) Joo Jaekyung is almost her grandson!! It was, as if she was about to adopt him. Let’s not forget that he embodies all her ideals and dreams: strong, healthy, rich, famous, generous, polite and gentle! And according to my observations, she knows that the athlete owns a flat in Seoul, big enough to take a room mate.

The invisible chain between the door and the sharks

The silent yet stark detail about the two units (chapter 1) also reshapes our perception of Shin Okja. This singular registration setup does more than highlight Dan’s bureaucratic burden—it reframes the nature of the doctor’s relationship with Shin Okja. (chapter 11) But why did she ask him to become the household of this unit in the past? For me, the answer is quite simple. She had already planned that the young boy would take over her debts. One might argue that the debts might have been related to the hamster’s family. Yet I can refute this point. How so?

First, according to my previous observation, Shin Okja was living in the other unit, and the thugs went straight to her flat, the one with the sign on the wall. (chapter 5) They were looking for her and not “doc Dan” or his family. Unfortunately, the little boy was present. Because they were seen together, people assumed that they were together, a family. But like mentioned before, there was a move within the same building. Moreover, as a child, Dan was exposed to violence from the loan sharks. He couldn’t have signed any documents at the time, for a resident registration number is required and the other place is not registered; the grandmother was the official borrower. But later, Heo Manwook declared that Kim Dan is the named debtor. (chapter 16) He even showed the amount Kim Dan owned with his cellphone to the Emperor (chapter 17) That’s how the champion internalized that the hamster was the one with debts. This theory explicates why doc Dan is not blaming his grandmother for the debts in the end, as he signed himself loans. And now, you can imagine what happened in the past. Once he became 17 years old, she asked him to get a resident registration number. With this, he could apply for a loan in order to reimburse the grandmother’s debts. This must be one of her favors from the past: (chapter 53) So far, in season 1, she had made only one (chapter 41) before her request to visit the West Coast. The most plausible explanation is that Shin Okja persuaded him to take over the loan. She likely presented it as a necessary sacrifice, something he could manage given his income as a physical therapist. This explains why the elderly woman is no longer asking about the debts or loan. It is no longer her main concern, she is not the household head either. And don’t forget what the physical therapist thought, when he heard from Kim Miseon the bad prognostic about his grandma. (chapter 5) His words imply that he had done something in the past for her. And that would be to become her guardian and take her debts. This hypothesis explicates why only in episode 11, Doc Dan was comparing the progression of the interests with a snowball system, something unstoppable. (chapter 11) His thoughts reflect a rather late realization that he is trapped in a system and he can not get out of it. In other words, this image oozes a certain innocence. This also explained why Joo Jaekyung had to confront him with reality in front of the hospital. (chapter 18) The location is not random: for the halmoni, such a work place symbolizes respectability, power and money. The problem is that in the hospice, Doc Dan is not well-paid. (chapter 56)

And so, when he returns to that door after the triggering phone call (chapter 11), it isn’t just a physical movement—it’s a re-entry into responsibility and also past. The metal door doesn’t lead into a shared home, but into a legal burden. It is the entrance not to comfort or care, but to debt, disrepair, and abandonment. No wonder why during that night, the hamster had to face Heo Manwook and his minions. (chapter 11) And now, it is time to return our attention to my illustration for the essay: As my avid readers can observe, the panel with the champion facing the blue door comes from episode 69, while the one with doc Dan comes from chapter 11. These scenes are mirroring each other. It is about concern and danger! While in episode 69, the athlete got worried, as he imagined that doc Dan’s life was in danger, in episode 11, the hamster was about to face an old threat: Heo Manwook and his minions! (chapter 11) But back then, he was on his own and no one paid attention to his health. Not even Shin Okja… He was truly abandoned, while the episode 69 exposes the opposite. Society in this little town takes care of people in general.

Striking is that Heo Manwook does not even know about Dan’s profession. When he sees the influx of money (chapter 11), he jumped to the conclusion that Dan was either prostituting himself or laundering funds. Why? It is because he had taken odd jobs, until he got hired by the dragon, Joo Jaekyung, and had such a huge income. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Heo Manwook knew how to use the old lady in order to threaten doc Dan. (chapter 16) Like I wrote in a different analysis, I doubt that the grandma would have signed a loan by Heo Manwook. This reveals how Dan entered the contract in obscurity, without recognition or protection. He did it for Shin Okja’s sake to repay her for her support and “love”. (chapter 65) No wonder why Shin Okja never mentions the loans when speaking to Joo Jaekyung, thus erasing her responsibility. And imagine this: Doc Dan is now living with an elderly man who is a farmer. She might suspect that the senior is trying to take advantage from her “grandsons”. If this is true, then she would just be projecting her own thoughts and fears onto the landlord. Since she connects the city to success and money, I am quite certain that she doesn’t judge farmers in a positive light. For her, doctors or celebrities are much more recommendable persons.

In the following article, the paper’s data underline a social reality: farming in Korea is struggling, and its practitioners—despite their essential role—are economically marginalized. In 2022, average agricultural income per household dropped to just KRW 9.49 million (~US $7,300)—under the 10-million-won mark for the first time in 30 years. Farming households earn only about 20–27% of what they once made, a steep decline from over 50% in the 1990s. Structural issues—aging farmers, small-scale plots, high material costs, and price volatility—have trapped many in long-term economic strain. Far from being a supplement, farming is often no longer a primary income source, pushing many rural households into poverty, with younger generations fleeing to cities. This evolution is reflected in the Korean manhwa. The room of Doc Dan contains traces of a teenager who left the house. (chapter 57) Therefore I am expecting an argument between the halmoni and the inhabitants of 33-3. The landlord embodies the opposite values of Shin Okja.

The Cabinet’s Silence: Misattributed Memory

This layered confusion about the flats extends to the objects within the home, especially the massive mother-of-pearl bridal wardrobe. (chapter 16) Dan repeatedly calls it his grandmother’s and even dreamed of finding a new place that could house it—a gesture that underscores how much he believed she treasured the object, even though she herself never mentions it. But she never once references it, not even when returning from the hospital. The absence of interest is striking. What if the cabinet didn’t belong to her at all? Its size suggests that it predates the division of the house. Besides, according to my observation, she used to live in the other unit and I can not imagine, the halmeoni moving this furniture from one unit to the other. Perhaps it once belonged to Dan’s mother—a remnant of the original household, now misattributed to the woman who unofficially took over.

Dan’s reverence for the cabinet mirrors his longing for stable familial identity. He projects value (chapter 19) onto the object just as he projects loyalty and gratitude onto his guardian. But the silence around the cabinet speaks volumes: it is not treasured by Shin Okja, only by Dan. Much like his name on the loan, or the house number on the door, it could be a misplaced inheritance. At the same time, such an item could serve to identify doc Dan’s true origins, if the Wedding Cabinet belonged to his true family.

The Wolf’s residence: 7-12

In contrast, Jaekyung’s initial intention was to stay in the seaside town only temporarily. (chapter 61) He claimed the move was for recovery and recuperation—a short break from his life in Seoul. Yet Korean law requires anyone staying in a location longer than a month to officially change their resident registration. If he were to do so, this would not just signal a change of address but a severing of administrative ties with Seoul—and by extension, Park Namwook and MFC. (chapter 66) Changing his registration would mean stepping outside of the institution’s control and surveillance.

However, I doubt that the star has ever officially registered his stay. Like Kim Dan before him, he exists in a limited legal space—present but not formally tied. This ambiguity mirrors his emotional state. His real return to Seoul was always conditional—it depended on Dan’s willingness to follow him. (chapter 62) Without Dan, Seoul held no meaning. But if he remains in the town past the statutory threshold, it would imply that he is ready to leave behind the world of contracts and competitions. It would mean he is now rooted—not by career, but by choice. Not by obligation, but by emotional truth.

In this way, the law becomes a mirror: resident registration, typically viewed as bureaucratic red tape, becomes a metaphor for chosen identity. The champion’s choice to return straight to the seaside town displays his psychological transition. He is no longer the man who moved through cities on training schedules. He is beginning to act like someone who stays—and stays for someone. And that someone is Kim Dan.

Conclusion: Opening the Right Door

The titular “hidden door to the past” is not just a visual motif—it is the emotional architecture of Jinx. By attending to overlooked details—address numbers, cabinet placement, financial responsibility, and architectural sleight-of-hand—we can trace the emotional fault lines that run beneath Dan’s quiet suffering and the champion’s slow awakening. The question is no longer just where they live, but who gets to call it home. The essay began with an image collage, but what it truly offers is a blueprint: not of real estate, but of memory, grief, and quiet resilience.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx/Doctor Frost: Flight 🚪 from Truth 👁️✨🧠, Fight🥊 for Fragile Peace ☮️

In the psychology article “How does confirmation bias push us to make bad decisions in life?”, author Jennifer Delgado analyzes how our minds instinctively defend core beliefs when confronted with contradictory evidence. This defense, she explains, stems from the discomfort of cognitive dissonance—a tension we feel when facts challenge our identity or worldview. To avoid this discomfort, people tend to seek psychological safety over factual accuracy. When destabilizing information arises—especially involving self-concept, loyalty, or trauma—they fall back on defense mechanisms: denial, deflection, aggression, or withdrawal.

This behavior is not purely mental; confronting such dissonant facts activates brain regions linked to physical pain. As a result, the individual unconsciously opts for survival behaviors—either fight (blame, control, projection) or flight (avoidance, submission, denial)—instead of reasoned analysis.

This concept is deeply relevant to the world of Jinx, where characters often mistake emotional avoidance for peace (chapter 47) and denial for strength (chapter 55). Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan (chapter 61), Park Namwook (chapter 69), and Shin Okja (chapter 53) all operate within survival mechanisms shaped by trauma, guilt, and fear. They choose the illusion of control or calm over genuine healing. But as the story unfolds, these strategies begin to unravel. Each character must confront the truth behind their emotional habits, learning that happiness isn’t the absence of pain—it’s the result of confronting it with clarity and purpose.

Joo Jaekyung: When Strength Masks Submission

In his recurring nightmare (chapter 54), Joo Jaekyung is cornered by a faceless, overpowering ghost. He is unable to fight or flee; only obedience and silence remain. (chapter 54) He could only express his pain and resent through the hand. This moment encapsulates the core of his trauma: as a child, he learned to survive through silence and compliance, not resistance. Yet deep down, the resentment festered—toward himself, and toward the abuser. That psychological pain was redirected into becoming a fighter, as if to prove the abuser wrong. (chapter 26) (chapter 14) But ironically, he became exactly what the abuser desired: a powerful, obedient puppet. His fame, discipline, and aggression were not signs of freedom, but evidences of emotional and mental captivity. That’s why the past from the champion is surrounded by darkness and mystery.

This also explains why Jaekyung never learned how to speak to others or negotiate emotionally. (chapter 36) His language was dominance, not dialogue. He didn’t process his emotions through words—he suppressed them, until they erupted in violence or withdrawal. (chapter 34)

But his dynamic with Kim Dan began to disrupt this cycle. Doc Dan, being physically weaker and more emotional, didn’t respond to force like the others. He didn’t fight back with fists. He showed his vulnerability and as such his tears. (chapter 1) And crucially, he didn’t leave right away either despite his embarrassment and fears. (chapter 1) Thus for the first time, Jaekyung had to develop a new strategy in order to meet him again: one that doesn’t rely on intimidation, but on communication. The problem is that since he saw the physical therapist running away after their first session (chapter 1), he knew that he needed to lure him with something: money (chapter 1). Under this new light, my avid readers can grasp why the athlete played a trick on the phone, though we have to envision that here the celebrity’s thoughts were strongly influenced by his bias and prejudices. He imagined that Doc Dan had made a move on him.

Dan has been teaching him, without lecturing, that flight can be strength. (chapter 5) That retreat doesn’t mean failure—it can be an act of self-preservation. However, the champion experienced that he needed to speak with doc Dan in order to keep him by his side. This lesson became a turning point. Jaekyung started to speak more. (chapter 18) Therefore it is no coincidence that in episode 18, right after the celebrity spoke, Kim Dan’s reply was strongly intertwined with flight: (chapter 18) The denial of kindness from the champion made the doctor uncomfortable, the latter felt the need to leave the penthouse as soon as possible. The lesson for the star was to realize that words are powerful and can affect people. But Joo Jaekyung didn’t grasp it, as he chose to use sex to „submit“ his fated partner. (Chapter 18) Nevertheless, as time passes on, the wolf asks more and more questions. He reacts to emotional discomfort not only with physicality but with hesitation, introspection. He is no longer reacting as the ghost once taught him; he is arguing and as such adapting, growing. Thus we could say, he is less passive.

On the other hand, I noticed that Joo Jaekyung displayed a clear behavioral pattern in season 1: he cornered Dan physically—pinning him onto the bed (chapter 3) or table, in showers (chapter 7), against doors, or walls (chapter 34). On the surface, it may seem like a gesture of dominance or desire, but symbolically, it reflects silencing.

This repetition links back to Jaekyung’s trauma. In his youth, he was trapped between the abuser and a bed or a wall (chapter 54), unable to escape or speak. He was physically and emotionally silenced by someone more powerful. As a result, cornering became his unconscious language of control—a reenactment of power where he was once powerless. It’s not just about physical space; it’s about suppressing the other’s voice so he doesn’t have to face emotional exposure himself. In other words, he never learned how to flee, until he met his new mentor Doc Dan.

That’s why the locker room scene in episode 51 stands out. There, they are no longer pressed into corners. (chapter 51) They stand in the middle of the room—an open space—symbolizing emotional emancipation. When Dan questions the celebrity (chapter 51), the words from doc Dan pierce the champion’s emotional defenses. Thus Joo Jaekyung is destabilized. (chapter 51). The latter tries to reassert control (chapter 51), but this time, when he lashes out, he is the one who leaves. This is cognitive dissonance at work: the fighter cannot reconcile his fear of vulnerability with his emerging need for connection and his perfectionism. So he defaults to a performance of control, even as he runs from it. And while one might mistake this for weakness or regression, it actually displays a progression. First, Jaekyung had finally revealed his thoughts and fears to Dan. (chapter 51) Secondly, he left the place which was a new MO for the fighter. His act of fleeing is no longer an escape from confrontation —it follows a moment of emotional vulnerability. It shows that he had finally dared to speak, even if he wasn’t yet ready to stay and endure the emotional aftermath.

Then in episode 69, Jinx-philes can detect a huge metamorphosis in the star. On the surface, he still appears obedient—he remains largely silent during the tense meeting with Park Namwook and the CEO. (chapter 69) That silence could easily be mistaken for submission, for the same old performance of the compliant athlete. (chapter 69) But that would be a misreading. His silence is no longer a symptom of fear or control. It is a deliberate withholding—a sign that he no longer plays by their emotional rules. He is starting distancing himself from MFC, Park Namwook and the fight-centered identity they crafted for him.

His choice to return to the West Coast might look like a retreat to the schemers. (chapter 69) After all, to those still invested in dominance hierarchies, leaving the capital after a public defeat seems like the behavior of someone who’s been defeated mentally as well. But the truth is the opposite. This “retreat” is actually an act of autonomy. For the first time, Jaekyung is giving himself space—not to run, but to reflect. (chapter 69) He is no longer blindly performing the role of the fighter, nor desperately trying to maintain control over the narrative. (chapter 69) He is beginning to think critically about his past behavior, his future, and the systems that have defined his identity and life.

That’s what makes the embrace at the dock so powerful. It doesn’t take place in a ring, in a hallway, or in a cornered room. It happens in an open space, (chapter 69) with “no audience” (he ignores people), no pressure, no script. And in that openness, he lets go—not just physically, but psychologically. (chapter 69) The hug marks the collapse of his old beliefs: that emotions are weaknesses, that silence is protection, that strength means standing alone. He is no longer trying to dominate Dan or prove anything. He’s not cornering or fleeing. He’s simply staying—with someone, and with himself.

It’s a moment that doesn’t fit the binary of fight or flight. It is something more radical: connection.
It is vulnerability without fear. Stillness without paralysis. Silence without suppression.
In this context, the hug is not just affection—it is emotional rebellion. The sportsman reclaims his body not as a weapon, but as a vessel for intimacy. He reclaims silence not as submission, but as peace. And perhaps for the first time in his life, he doesn’t need to perform. He just is.

That’s why this hug is a fight. Not against Dan. Not against MFC. But against everything that taught him that love and respect must be earned through violence, that silence must come from fear, and that warmth and dependency are weaknesses.

This is the moment he stops surviving and starts living. When Jaekyung embraces Dan without shame, he does not speak—but for the first time, his silence is not imposed. It is chosen. He allows his body to express his emotions differently: longing and affection. He is not voiceless anymore—he simply no longer needs to explain or defend. The hug becomes his first true act of emotional agency. He is not reacting to fear. He is not controlling or escaping. He is staying. That is the fight.

And in this moment, he reclaims what “fight” really means. Not overpowering others. Not performing masculinity. Not obeying trauma. But overcoming his trauma, standing one’s ground for connection, for truth, for love. The hug is his first fight that isn’t about winning—it’s about not running away.

What begins as survival now becomes healing. And how are prejudices dismantled? Through communication. This means that from episode 70 on, the star will talk to doc Dan. Jaekyung, who once avoided words, who let others speak for him, who was branded and silenced by MFC, the entertainment agency and Park Namwook—is now ready to speak for himself. The hug is not the end of that journey (chapter 69), but the door finally opening. He is on his way to reconnect with his true self surrounded by nature and the people who truly respect and love him.

Park Namwook: Delegating Blame to Escape Collapse

Park Namwook relies heavily on both fight (chapter 7) and flight (chapter 52), often using blame as a shield. When crisis strikes, he blames the champion’s temper, relies on Doc Dan (chapter 36), or MFC’s decisions. (chapter 69) He surrounds himself with “assistants” like coach Yosep, Kim Dan or Joo Jaekyung (chapter 25: here the protagonist was replacing Yosep and Park Namwook), hires professionals to manage damage (chapter 47), and hides behind administrative actions. (chapter 66) But he never takes full responsibility. This blame-displacement strategy works—until the champion flees to the West Coast.

Now, Park has no one left to blame but himself. In fact, it was Joo Jaekyung’s very act of fleeing (chapter 66) that cornered the manager. (chapter 66) As long as the champion was nearby, Park Namwook could project blame onto him, framing him as unstable, disobedient, or temperamental. But once „his boy“ vanished from Seoul, the hyung was left exposed. Striking is that he is not seen watching over the training of the remaining members. (chapter 60) (chapter 60), a sign that he is neglecting the other members. The absence of his star fighter removed his most convenient scapegoat, forcing him to face the consequences of his own mismanagement—though he is not yet ready to truly question it and change his mindset, denial, and dependency. This was not just a geographical disappearance—it was a strategic psychological rupture, meant to destabilize Park’s illusion of authority.

And this is where the illusion breaks. He is forced to realize: he is not the real owner of the gym. He needs Joo Jaekyung’s signature for major decisions. He needs the champion’s public image to draw sponsors. When the fighter disappears, the manager’s relevance disappears too. That’s why he pushes for a new match (chapter 69) —not for the protagonist’s career and sake, but as a desperate attempt to re-anchor himself to glory, Joo Jaekyung and MFC. This means that he is choosing avoidance and as such flight. He lets his puppet fight for him.

But this can only backfire. In his mind, he is imagining that with a new fight, everything will return to normality and as such it will be like in the past. But he is overlooking two aspects: (chapter 69) The announcement that MFC will “line up a match” for Joo Jaekyung after the fall competition marks a pivotal moment — not of triumph, but of quiet exclusion. The phrasing itself is telling. The main lead is not invited to compete in the main event. He is not allowed to fight for the title. His role has been reduced to a postscript — a gesture, not a priority. For a fighter who once carried the brand’s identity, this is not simply a delay. It is a symbolic sidelining. In other words, the new champions and the CEO fear the star. (chapter 69) So with this new request, the manager ignores the reality that Jaekyung has been removed from the competitive spotlight. (chapter 69) He continues to speak as though the champion’s future is intact, as if the title is still within reach. But the organization’s actions speak louder: Jaekyung is no longer a contender — he is being gradually abandoned, not promoted. Secondly, Park Namwook assumes that Jaekyung will win the next fight, as if victory is still within his grasp. But this trust is misplaced — not only because the fighter is recovering from surgery, but because the schemers may have already designed this match as a final blow. Another fight right after a surgery, a staged defeat, or a quiet elimination would neatly push Jaekyung out without public controversy. By assigning him a marginal, delayed match, they are not offering redemption — they are orchestrating his exit.

MFC manipulates the manager’s selfishness and uses him as a tool to cover up the previous scandals. They feed him the illusion that he’s still in control, but the fall match is just a distraction—a public reset. I would even add that the manager seems to know that the ranking is not reflecting reality and even that the ranking is manipulated. . (chapter 69) The causal link here is suspect. Rankings in professional fighting aren’t determined solely by inactivity, especially when medical suspension is publicly known. So the manager tries to blame ranking drop on inactivity, but the inactivity isn’t prolonged enough to justify such a steep fall — from 1st to 3rd within 1 month and half. Besides, observe the drop of sweat on his face, a sign of discomfort and as such deception. Moreover, he is hesitating, visible with the points of suspension. indicating his awkwardness and lack of honesty. In addition, he is speaking exactly like MFC (he lost the last match, while it was just a tie) and finally he shouldn’t be employing the expression “it’s been a while”, as barely two months passed since his match with Baek Junmin. In other words, the man is delivering the message from MFC. He becomes a complicit agent, cloaking corporate strategy in soft euphemisms. This signifies, he is no longer acting as the owner of Team Black, though on the surface, it still looks like the man has the title of gym owner. The deeper irony lies in the fact that the true owner of Team Black is Joo Jaekyung. It is his money and name that built the gym’s reputation. It is his popularity, victories, and public image that attracted members, sponsors, and influence. Legally, financially, and symbolically, Jaekyung is the one holding the structure together.

That’s how it dawned on me that the schemers could be deceived too. I think, the CEO from MFC and Choi Gilseok still perceive Joo Jaekyung as “just a fighter” because of Park Namwook’s attitude: an asset, a brand face, a body to manage. (chapter 17) They don’t see him as someone with legal or institutional power. But that’s their fatal blind spot. Since Jaekyung co-owns or outright owns Team Black, this makes him: A partner (or even rival) in MFC’s talent pipeline; an employer and a stakeholder in fighter safety. He has the same position than Choi Gilseok. Therefore as the owner of Team Black, he can sue the gym King of MMA and Choi Gilseok. He can take action against the CEO for negligence, corruption or abuse of authority. (chapter 47) Finally, he can testify not only as a fighter, but as a representative of the institution they tried to exploit. That elevates his voice: from a disposable athlete to a legal opponent with organizational standing.

Worse, if anything goes wrong, Park Namwook is now positioned as the scapegoat and spy. He didn’t reveal certain things to his boss, like for example how his members could never win. This character shows how fight (blame, control) and flight (denial, delegation. omission) are merely two faces of the same cowardice. His false peace rests on borrowed time and power—and it’s collapsing.

Kim Dan: From Submission to Resistance—and Back Again

Kim Dan’s survival mechanism was silence as well. As a child, he learned that speaking up would change nothing. (chapter 57) Secondly, the vanishing of his parents were also swept under the carpet. That’s how he internalized powerlessness. Fleeing (chapter 1), deflecting, and disappearing became natural. With the grandmother, with doctors (chapter 1), with institutions—he obeyed. He accepted his fate as a fatality. But with Jaekyung, a new pattern emerged. Slowly, he began to resist: he set boundaries, raised his voice, argued with his boss, even used physical gestures to assert himself. (chapter 7) For a moment, he was fighting.

But without mutual trust (chapter 51), this resistance could not hold. His boss and client never fully opened up, and so Dan, sensing instability, retreated again. (chapter 53) The brief flicker of agency collapsed. And this reflects a deeper psychological truth: resistance is not sustainable unless it is met with recognition. Otherwise, it begins to feel dangerous. Dan learned how to fight—but he never learned that he was allowed to win. Because deep down, Dan has internalized a belief shaped by trauma and lifelong submission:

Doc Dan has begun to resist, to speak, and even to walk away—but deep down, he still struggles to believe that success, safety, or love are things he’s truly entitled to. He acts, but with hesitation. He asserts himself, but doubts linger. He’s not powerless anymore—but the belief that he must always yield hasn’t fully let go of him either. That’s why he keeps mentioning the debts. (chapter 67) Moreover, in contrast to Season 1, Kim Dan is no longer the invisible caregiver or obedient grandson. Thanks to Joo Jaekyung’s presence—disruptive and painful as it was—he began to form an independent identity (chapter 57), one no longer shaped entirely by duty or guilt. The grandmother, however, is blind to this change. She continues to speak to him as if he’s the same self-sacrificing boy (chapter 65) who followed orders quietly and centered his life around pleasing others. Her suggestion that he “returns to Seoul” assumes he still views that as his place. But Dan refuses.

This refusal is significant. It is not only a rejection of her directive (chapter 57) —it is a rejection of the belief that he exists only to serve. In Season 2, Dan says “no” repeatedly:

  • He refuses Jaekyung’s offer of support. (chapter 60) (chapter 67)
  • He ignores the sleep specialist’s recommendations and denies the seriousness of his condition.
  • He rejects Potato’s suggestion to return to the gym. (chapter 58)
  • He only listens to the nurse, when the latter uses her authority on him. (chapter 57)

Although he is clearly struggling emotionally, there is something new about his detachment: it is not just trauma withdrawal—it is the first fragile assertion of selfhood. For the first time, he is choosing himself, even if that choice leads him into making bad decisions and a quiet depression. He is not clinging to roles that once gave him safety—he is testing the silence between identities.

And this is precisely what the grandmother fails to understand: Dan is no longer a reflection of her expectations. He is trying to become someone who belongs to himself. And her ignorance can be perceived, when she brings up the past. (chapter 65) She uses his past flaws to outline his immaturity and need of guidance. However, she is not taking into consideration the transformation in the doctor due to the recent incidents (switched spray). He is no longer the same than he was 6 months ago or 2 years old. He changed thanks to the athlete and because of unfortunate events (sexual harassment from the hospital director, switched spray). But the halmoni has no idea about such incidents.

And so he, too, begins to confuse avoidance (chapter 61) with peace. He gives in to silence in front of Shin Okja again, not because he believes it is right, but because he believes it is safer. So far, he has not confronted his grandmother’s decisions yet.

The Grandmother: Avoidance Disguised as Selflessness

The grandmother represents the clearest embodiment of the flight response. (chapter 53) Unlike Park Namwook who uses blame and delegation in professional settings, she applies emotional avoidance in private and familial spaces. Much like the manager, she outsources responsibility, asking others to step in (chapter 53) (chapter 65) rather than engaging directly. She avoids difficult conversations, never once asking doc Dan about the nature of his work or why he followed her to the West Coast. (chapter 65) Her silence is not protective—it is evasive.

As someone who is not a fighter by temperament or experience, she avoids confrontation and choices. Hence she asks for help from the champion behind her grandson’s back. This internalized passivity is mirrored in her body: she cannot fight back against cancer. (chapter 5) Her illness becomes a metaphor for her mindset. She relies on external systems: her grandson (chapter 53), doctors (chapter 7), medication, comfort (chapter 21), and other people (nurse, Joo Jaekyung) —to maintain her emotional balance. But as doc Dan himself once observed, she is ultimately on her own in her battle. No system can fight it for her.

This mindset surfaces again when the oncologist, Dr. Kim Miseon, reproaches doc Dan for not visiting his grandmother. The implication is blame. However, this accusation is not entirely grounded: doc Dan had arranged for a nurse to provide care and companionship. (chapter 7) His grandmother was not truly abandoned; she simply equated his physical absence with neglect, ignoring the emotional and financial burden he already carried. Like Park Namwook, she prefers others to carry the discomfort while maintaining a façade of suffering and sacrifice. (chapter 65)

Her passivity is cloaked in martyrdom—”I did everything for you”—yet it deprives doc Dan of emotional reciprocity. In her world, emotional closeness is conditional (chapter 47) , and her narrative of selflessness becomes another form of emotional pressure. She does not yell, she does not accuse directly, but her avoidance is equally powerful in shaping Dan’s self-image as a burden. Doc Dan came to internalize that she suffered because of him. (chapter 5) Hence he made sure to shield her from any pain.

Her return to her hometown and her stay at the hospice reflect a deeper psychological strategy: she is not preparing to die, but attempting to escape death—to feel young again (chapter 65), protected, comforted. Surrounded by nurses, medication, and routine, she finds temporary peace in an environment that simulates safety. The hospice does not cure her illness, but it cushions it. This illusion allows her to smile again, to relax—but only up to a point. Kim Dan’s gradual deterioration (chapter 57) —his visible exhaustion, disconnection, and quiet suffering—becomes a thorn in her eye, a reminder that her peace is not whole. As long as he suffers, she cannot entirely escape the shadow of her own regrets. Sending him away to Seoul represents a new of flight. Out of sight means out of mind. That way the grandmother wouldn‘t have to worry about doc Dan, as he has been entrusted to the athlete.

Survival Mode and Selective Laziness: The Blind Spots of Belief

As explained in Dr. Frost (chapter 163) and supported by the article on confirmation bias, human survival was deeply dependent on mental shortcuts. Biases were not flaws, but adaptive tools — heuristics that helped our ancestors make quick decisions under threat. Faced with a potential predator, they could not afford the luxury of curiosity or debate. Run first, think later. (chapter 163) In this sense, biases were effective precisely because they increased the chance of survival.

This explains why all four characters in Jinx behave irrationally at times — not because they are inherently flawed, but because they are trapped in survival mode. Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan, Park Namwook, and the grandmother all exhibit narrow thinking and emotional rigidity because their nervous systems are wired for defense, not reflection. They are biased — not out of malice, but because their minds are trying to protect them.

For example, Park Namwook began as a cheerful, strategic manager. (chapter 9) But once Joo Jaekyung became the target of criticism and scandals, his fear response activated. (chapter 52) He grew rigid, controlling, and increasingly biased. The infamous slap in the hospital was not a calculated choice — it was the culmination of fear, the eruption of unresolved stress and repressed blame. His mind no longer could no longer hide behind fake understanding; it sought a target.

The article on selective laziness explains how people apply critical thinking unevenly, questioning what threatens them while blindly trusting what confirms their worldview.

The result of this study is visible in Jinx. While, the manager thought that the next match was too soon in episode 41, (chapter 41) he recommends the opposite at the restaurant because the idea comes from the CEO! (chapter 69)

In addition to the earlier exploration of confirmation bias, Jennifer Delgado’s article 5 cognitive biases limit our potential” offers another compelling extension. She explains how biases don’t just distort perception—they actively constrain personal growth. She introduces 5 different cognitive biases and one of them is “Hindsight bias”.

Hindsight bias is the tendency to look back on a decision and reinterpret it as better, wiser, or more inevitable than it actually was. To reduce discomfort or self-doubt, we modify our memory of past motives, downplay any hesitation or contradiction, and reframe our choice as the best one all along. This can be observed in this image: (chapter 65) The grandmother quietly rewrites the past to preserve her emotional comfort. Her statement — “I told him I wanted to see the ocean, but I never imagined he’d end up settling down here” — seems reflective on the surface, but it is a clear case of hindsight bias. She reframes her earlier decision as simple and innocent (as if it was a trip), downplaying the emotional pressure she placed on Kim Dan to follow her. By minimizing her role in shaping his circumstances, she subtly shifts responsibility onto him, as if his decision to stay was entirely his own, disconnected from her influence. This distortion allows her to avoid guilt and maintain the illusion of benevolence. However, if she truly meant, she desired to go on a trip (chapter 53), she should have voiced before that the doctor had misunderstood her. However, she claims that this place is her hometown, and with her request to the champion, she implies that she desires to stay in that little town: (chapter 65) It was her decision to settle down at the hospice.

Even more revealing is her next comment: “I really don’t know what that boy plans to do with his life.” This confession exposes her emotional detachment. Despite being the one who uprooted his life, she has made no effort to understand his goals, his work, or his emotional needs. Her words reflect not only a lack of curiosity, but also a passive disavowal of responsibility. She speaks as if Dan were a stranger, even though she has shaped his life through silent expectation and unspoken control. The peaceful ocean backdrop masks this deeper avoidance. Her worldview remains rooted in survival logic and emotional self-preservation — not genuine connection or growth.

By reinforcing outdated beliefs, we avoid novelty, risk, and the emotional labor required for change.

When we have deep-seated beliefs, we stop questioning them and simply assume they are true. This limits our ability to grow, learn, and discover new perspectives. This insight sheds further light on the characters’ emotional stagnation in Jinx. Park Namwook clings to obsolete narratives about leadership and discipline, failing to acknowledge how the landscape—and Jaekyung—have changed. His insistence on orchestrating a comeback fight is not strategic foresight, but cognitive rigidity disguised as professionalism.

The grandmother is likewise restricted by inherited beliefs: that safety, solitude, and hard work (chapter 65) are the cornerstones of survival. She only has friends, when she needs them (see for example the champion). These assumptions once protected her, but now they prevent her from evolving—from supporting Dan emotionally, from engaging in reciprocal dialogue, and from allowing herself to face death consciously rather than evade it.

Even Joo Jaekyung’s belief that strength equals stoicism prevented him from confronting the truth of his own vulnerability. Only through Kim Dan’s influence did he begin to question this inner script—and once he did, the false foundations began to crumble. He has just started healing emotionally; he is starting questioning the corrupt systems surrounding him, including MFC’s exploitation. This means, the existence of his jinx is vanishing.

This second article reinforces a deeper truth: that healing requires not only confronting pain, but also dismantling the faulty reasoning that keeps us blind. As long as the characters were clinging to biases, they remained paralyzed—unable to process what had happened to them, or recognize the larger forces at play. Hence they could never be happy. But the moment they begin to question themselves and speak honestly with one another, they also begin to see clearly—not just inwardly, but outwardly.

This explains why doc Dan ignored Jaekyung’s advice about medication and health. (chapter 67) His survival bias told him: “Don’t trust a man who once treated you violently.” or “Doctors are ignorant, they don’t know me“. It was easier to discredit the source than to weigh the merit of the message. Likewise, in Season 1, the champion dismissed doc Dan’s medical opinions (chapter 41), trusting instead in MFC and his agency — despite the fact that those institutions are overtly motivated by money. His bias protected his ego, but at the cost of his health and relationships.

Park Namwook falls into the same trap: he considers Jaekyung a “spoiled child” (chapter 7) (chapter 40) who needs to fight to prove himself, yet likely doesn’t treat his own family this way. (chapter 45) His double standard is not conscious hypocrisy — it’s a form of selective laziness. He does not challenge his beliefs because doing so would unravel the identity he’s built as a competent, authoritative manager.

The grandmother also embodies survival-driven bias. She believes that working hard and seeking fame are acts of love and stand for happiness— but she never questions the emotional cost. (chapter 65) She doesn’t help her grandson build friendships (chapter 57) (chapter 65) or a support network. It is not her fault, if she never met doc Dan’s friends in the past while hiding the fact that he had been bullied by his peers. Her request for him to return to Seoul, a place he has no roots, only furthers his habit of isolation. Similarly, when she asked Jaekyung to bring him to Seoul and have him diagnosed, she implicitly discouraged any shared decision-making. Like Park Namwook, she bypassed dialogue in favor of directive control, reinforcing the habit of emotional withdrawal.

As the article states,

But her attitude blocks precisely that — there is no exchange of ideas, no real conversation. Only avoidance wrapped in concern and requests.

This is why neither Jaekyung nor Kim Dan were “thinking properly” earlier in the story. They were not free to. Their brains were in survival mode, stuck in flight or fight, not reflection. But once the champion saw Dan again — saw that he was still there, still himself — his anxiety softened. He began to press MFC for answers. (chapter 67) That shift marks a turning point from survival to conscious thought. The mind cannot reflect when it believes it is under attack. The tragedy is not that these characters are irrational — it’s that they were taught fear before they were taught trust. Thus I come to the following conclusion. As soon as both are curious about each other (chapter 69), they are now free from their bias and prejudices. (chapter 69) They will be able to communicate which will help them to discover the truth about MFC. Yes, their ability to ponder will lead them to unmask the villains and defeat their opponents. By fighting for justice, both will discover true peace of mind. This hardship at the end of season 1 was necessary to reset their heart and mind: what is the true meaning of life? Money? Work? Duty? Sacrifice?… The answer is happiness which is strongly intertwined with love and selflessness.

The topic for the next essay is:

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Sweet 🧁 Curse of the Round Table 🍴

Following up on the analysis in Unseen Savior🦸🏼‍♂ : The Birth Of Jaegeng (locked), it is now time to dive into the symbolic and narrative weight of the meeting between Joo Jaekyung, Park Namwook, the CEO, and the mysterious woman in red. That earlier essay depicted the offer extended during this encounter as the devil’s temptation. In this piece, we will take a step back and ask an important question that may have gone unnoticed by most readers: Was this truly a lunch meeting? 😮

Lunch or “Kaffee und Kuchen”?

. (chapter 69)

At first glance, the setting may imply a formal lunch: a round table in a private room, a well-lit ambiance, and Western-style plating. Moreover, some Jinx-philes might have been reminded of the lunch between Choi Heesung and Kim Dan that took place in a similar location: (chapter 32) Yet upon closer inspection, certain oddities stood out to me. (chapter 69) The most telling is the absence of water glasses—normally present during a full meal. Then, there are untouched knives and forks placed beside the plates, suggesting that they were arranged for formality rather than function. For cakes, such utensils are unnecessary, so they should have been removed. In contrast, the only utensils that should be used are dessert spoons. These subtle visual cues point to an unusual conclusion: this was not a full meal, but rather a dessert meeting.

This observation is further supported by a humorous yet significant moment from Chapter 43. (chapter 43) In that scene, Kim Dan poured soju into his water cup to pace himself during a drinking session. (chapter 43) Joo Jaekyung, unaware, mistakes it for his own and angrily reacts upon drinking it. This moment shows how closely water glasses are associated with Korean dining culture—even in casual or alcohol-heavy settings. Hence during a meal, the characters always have (chapter 32) two glasses on the table. In South Korea, it is customary for restaurants to provide a glass of water to every diner, regardless of the meal’s formality or complexity. This small gesture reflects hospitality, attentiveness, and the expectation of proper nourishment. The absence of water glasses, therefore, subtly communicates indifference or even disrespect—signaling that the recipient is not truly welcome to enjoy a full meal or rest. When applied to the “dessert meeting,” this detail becomes all the more striking: a cultural standard is ignored, revealing the performative nature of the gesture. Their absence at the “dessert meeting” feels deliberate, a symbol of superficiality and arrogance. (chapter 69)

Birthday Party or Not?

Funny is that the moment I paid attention to the table and made a connection between the gatherings in episode 43 and 69, I made a huge discovery concerning the champion’s birthday party. (chapter 43) The reason for his mistake was that they had only placed a spoon and sticks.😮 He had no glass for himself. It was, as if they had forgotten him. In other words, he was not supposed to eat and drink at his own birthday party!! 😂 (chapter 43) The absence of a rice bowl, plate, and glass in front of Joo Jaekyung, despite the presence of utensils, indeed suggests that he wasn’t expected to truly participate in the meal. In my opinion, the manager expected that the fighter would behave like in episode 9: (chapter 9) It reflects a pattern: the champion is present but not included in the communal or emotional aspects of the gathering. His spoon and chopsticks function like a prop, much like the untouched knives and forks at the dessert meeting. (chapter 69)

Symbolically, this reinforces the idea that Park Namwook sees him not as a person with needs or preferences, but as a role—a figure to be paraded, not fed. It’s also a strong indicator of the superficial hospitality offered by Team Black. The same way MFC served only dessert as a façade of generosity, here Park Namwook maintains the appearance of inclusion without the substance of care. One might wonder if the person behind this dessert meeting is not the manager in the end. However, I can refute this hypothesis. But I will explain my reasoning elsewhere.

Why Coffee and Cake?

This revelation casts the entire interaction in a new light. Desserts traditionally symbolize sweetness, pleasure, and reward—a closing gesture in a meal meant to satisfy or celebrate. Yet here, they are served in isolation, with no nourishment preceding them. It reflects the hollowness of the offer being made to the champion. Symbolically, the sweets are fake nutrition: surface-level compensation meant to placate and divert attention. Their isolated presence, without the customary water or a full course, also exposes a certain stinginess and greed—lavish in appearance but lacking genuine generosity or investment. There is no genuine sustenance here, only an illusion of care and abundance. At the same time, it is clear that the champion avoids cakes, thus for his birthday, he only ate the strawberry. Ordering desserts indicates the indifference toward the former „Emperor“.

To further contrast the deeper meaning, it’s worth considering the German tradition of Kaffee und Kuchen. This custom involves sitting down in the late afternoon with friends or family to enjoy coffee and cake—a sincere gesture of rest, connection, and shared time. (chapter 69) The Black Forest cake served to Joo Jaekyung connects directly to this tradition, yet its context here is anything but restful. It was through observation that I noticed the dessert’s identity—its distinctive shape and cherry decoration evoking the iconic Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte (A reminder: I live in Germany). However, this symbolic dessert becomes a tool of irony: rather than promoting genuine connection or relaxation, it masks a veiled demand. The setting in Jinx is not about togetherness or leisure but manipulation under the guise of civility. Instead of offering a break, this “dessert meeting” is designed to signal the end of the champion’s rest. It pressures him to return to fighting, weaponizing the illusion of hospitality to serve a corporate agenda. This signifies that this dessert becomes a symbol not of comfort, but of interruption. It marks the end of the champion’s rest and the return to duty. Far from being an act of care, it is a veiled command.

This scene around a round table mirrors another pivotal moment (chapter 48), the meeting between Choi Gilseok and Kim Dan. The former invited him for coffee. (chapted 48) At first, the gesture seemed generous—he offers a home, a car, (chapter 48) and the promise to help doc Dan to get a new treatment for the grandmother. (chapter 48) But this so-called kindness is conditional: in exchange, Kim Dan must betray Joo Jaekyung. Striking is that director Choi only ordered coffee. But a coffee without a dessert is no real break, but a stimulant—fuel for continued work. In both this meeting and the previous one with Choi Gilseok, the core remains the same: “work”, stinginess and greed wrapped in the guise of generosity. Every sweet drink or dessert lies a hidden price. This comparison highlights that the current meeting is not for the athlete’s sake—it is meant to serve Park Namwook and the CEO, who share different but aligned goals.

In this scene, every detail is meticulously crafted to portray the illusion of equity, civility, and generosity—when in fact, it is manipulation cloaked in civility.

The Round Table and Directional Symbolism 

The round table is a reference to King Arthur’s court (chapter 69), where knights would gather as equals. This allusion conjures a sense of idealized unity and fairness—values that stand in stark contrast to the characters’ actual motivations in this scene. Whereas the original Round Table emphasized equality and noble purpose, the meeting in Jinx distorts these ideals, using the circular table as a facade to mask manipulation, hierarchy, and hidden agendas, as there are no clear sides and perspectives. The characters gather not to collaborate or share truth and knowledge, but to impose control, push self-serving narratives, and pressure the champion under the guise of courtesy. Yet, the illusion of equality is shattered when we examine the seating arrangement and the design beneath the table.

The floor beneath the table is made of black marble. Black marble traditionally symbolizes sophistication, power, and mystery—often linked to wealth and elite status. In this context, it reflects the polished surface of MFC’s operation, hiding its manipulative and corrupt core. The marble’s reflective nature serves as a mirror for distorted truths, hinting at concealed motives. Interestingly, even though the floor contains no design contrary to the lunch with the actor (chapter 32), I detected a reference to the yin-yang through the clothes. (chapter 69) A symbolic balance is still conveyed through the color palette of the characters’ clothing: black and white on one side (CEO and Park Namwook), and red and blue on the other (the woman and Joo Jaekyung). This contrast references yin and yang—light and dark, passive and active, East and West. It captures the ideological and emotional tension between the characters gathered at the table, exposing how appearances veil a struggle for control, identity, and allegiance.

Each guest occupies a cardinal point based on their clothing colors, which reflect traditional Korean symbolism:

  • Joo Jaekyung, wearing a dark blue shirt with black shades, represents the East (청, Cheong), associated with the color blue/green, spring, the element of wood, rebirth, and emotional clarity—but also with tradition and conformism. Ironically, though he embodies the East, he now lives on Korea’s western coastline, which emphasizes his internal conflict and transition.
  • Park Namwook, in white, embodies the West (백, Baek), symbolizing the color white, the element of metal, autumn, endings, coldness, and judgment. This perfectly reflects his role as the fading, cold manager—emotionally distant and aligned with institutional power. His upcoming downfall and loss of power are foreshadowed by this placement.
  • The woman in red signifies the South (적, Jeok), (chapter 66) linked to fire, summer (hence the reference to the trip in the States), passion, performance, and vitality—ironically twisted here into cold professionalism and superficial seduction. Her position contrasts with her symbolic warmth, highlighting the emptiness of her care. This explains why she is portrayed eyeless. She sold her “soul” to money and as such to the “devil”.
  • The CEO, (chapter 69) wearing black, aligns with the North (흑, Heuk), associated with the color black, winter, water, authority, secrecy, and hidden control. It was, as if he was representing the missing glass of water. His position as the initiator of the meeting and his location near the window reinforce his dominance and detachment.

A second interpretation is based on physical orientation. The CEO sits in front of the window, suggesting he leads the direction of the conversation—reinforcing his alignment with the North. This would position:

  • Joo Jaekyung in the South, the symbolic realm of sincerity, renewal, and emotional strength.
  • Park Namwook in the East, which then implies the potential for change, growth, and conflict with the West.
  • The woman in red in the West, making her Park Namwook’s symbolic counterpart and challenger.

Both readings emphasize an important underlying theme: the meeting is not just about strategy, but also about the clash of symbolic forces—tradition vs. transformation, control vs. sincerity, illusion vs. truth. These opposing tensions reflect the champion’s current state of evolution and foreshadow his rebellion against the system that once defined him. This arrangement paints a coherent symbolic tableau grounded in Korean cardinal point philosophy. Not only do the colors align (black for North, white for West, blue/green for East, red for South), but so do the personalities: the CEO as cold and calculating authority, the woman as sharp and composed evaluator, the manager as a conformist tool of the system, and the champion as the figure of emotional awakening and transformation. It also reflects their roles in the narrative: the CEO and the woman attempt to assert control from a place of detachment and oversight, while the star is awakening to his own truth, standing in contrast to their cold rationality.

The hosts clearly control the setting, tone, and tempo of the meeting. The choice of the round table is not accidental; it is meant to give the illusion of closeness and fairness, but the positions and body language expose the hierarchy. The CEO’s gesture (chapter 69), joining his hands in front of his chest, is subtle but telling. Combined with his seating near the window (symbolizing clarity or enlightenment), this gesture indicates control, restrain, self-protection and finally judgment. He’s calmly evaluating the situation and others at the table, implying a power dynamic. Bringing the hands in front of the chest can form a subconscious barrier—suggesting he is guarding himself, possibly from confrontation or uncomfortable truths, while it helps him to give a composed and confident posture. The CEO positioned near the light, faces outward, and dominates. Behind the champion is an abstract green painting (chapter 69), which evokes confusion and corruption. This artistic backdrop continues the theme from Voyage, Voyage (life is a journey), positioning Jaekyung as mentally “adrift” within this orchestrated trap. At the same time, the green might reference the “Black Forest”—a literal and metaphorical journey ahead. Like Hansel and Gretel, he is being lured with sweets into the forest. But unlike the fairy tale, the athlete’s breadcrumb trail will not lead him home—it will lead him to Kim Dan. On the other hand, by making this connection, I couldn’t help myself thinking that exactly like Hansel and Gretel, doc Dan and his fated partner will cross the witch’s path on their journey to independence and happiness.

Color Symbolism and Character Portrayal 

The characters’ clothes also reflect deeper symbolism. The CEO wears a black shirt and dark blue jeans—dark, imposing, and utilitarian, suggesting control, power, and hidden motives. (chapter 69) Notably, this outfit marks a shift from his previous appearances: during his public pose with Baek Junmin (chapter 47), he wore a formal black suit with a white shirt, signaling polished professionalism. When he met the champion in the States, his full black outfit resembled a manager’s uniform and a badge, signaling humbleness and authority but also a hands-on, corporate role. (chapter 37) Now, Joo Jaekyung mirrors this casual dark attire (chapter 69), which points to a lack of reverence or ceremonial respect from the CEO. The diminishing formality in the CEO’s wardrobe reveals a gradual unmasking of his character—less the respectable businessman and more the manipulative broker. His clothing now mirrors more than that of a loan shark or exploiter, revealing the raw ambition and control beneath his once-slick exterior.

The woman in red wears a vivid red suit, a clear visual signifier of power, respectability, and Western flamboyance. However, unlike a red dress—which often symbolizes femininity, seduction, and traditional gender expectations—the red suit strips away that softness and replaces it with authority and androgyny. It underscores her ambiguity as a character: she is commanding and polished, yet emotionally distant. Her attire blends masculine-coded professionalism with a bold, attention-grabbing palette, reflecting both her status within MFC and her detachment from nurturing roles. She appears calm and calculating, and her positioning and expressions make her seem less like an accessory to the meeting and more like a silent strategist. Symbolically, she represents MFC’s security system, (chapter 69) the eye that sees but does not act, like a cold and distant mother figure whose role is to supervise, protect, and feed. Yet, the dessert served to the champion feels like an affront, a form of care without understanding—especially given that Joo Jaekyung usually avoids sweets and alcohol altogether. The Black Forest contains kirschwasser, a cherry liqueur.

Park Namwook mimics the CEO with a white shirt—a deliberate act of mimicry that exposes his lack of individuality and herd mentality. (chapter 69) But the white shirt has layered meaning: it also symbolizes his ignorance and naivety. He believes the meeting is a gesture of goodwill, a “favor” from the top, and fails to question the power dynamics at play. The irony is that Park Namwook is not actually an MFC agent—he works for Joo Jaekyung as his manager. His neutrality is superficial. His grey pants further signal his moral ambiguity and lack of integrity. Far from being a righteous figure, he embodies passivity, complicity, and indifference.

Joo Jaekyung, however, wears a blue shirt darkened by shades of black (chapter 69) —a signal of inner turmoil and his transition from his former life. Blue stands for loyalty, thought, and calm, while black alludes to his troubled past. He is evolving but not yet free.

Knights, Sweets, and Illusions 

The round table conjures the Knights of the Round Table, but these “warriors” are not pursuing spiritual quests. Their prize is not the Holy Grail but money, rank, and relevance. (chapter 69) In this world, ideals are hollow, and tradition is co-opted to mask self-interest.

The desserts themselves are symbols: (chapter 69) the strawberry fraisier (chosen by the woman) stands for surface sweetness and seduction; the layered chocolate cake (perhaps a feuilleté) represents indulgence and opulence. Joo Jaekyung alone chose a square Black Forest cake—a form traditionally associated with structure, truth, and boundaries. Because the cake contains kirschwasser, subtly referencing the athlete’s brief brush with alcohol, it becomes clear that Park Namwook was not the one behind this order. Imagine this: under his very own eyes, the champion is encouraged to taste a strong alcohol. In my opinion, they must know that the star has been drinking. Yet, it was through Kim Dan’s presence that he stopped drinking, making this dessert an unconscious mirror of both his struggle and strength. Meanwhile, Park Namwook, ever the follower, selects the same dessert as the CEO and the same drink as the woman, revealing his pretense and pastiche once more. Since the manager has always bought junk food (chicken – chapter 26, hamburgers, ramen – episode 37), it becomes clear that the hyung simply has no idea about Western food in general and in particular expensive French or German dishes. That’s why he didn’t ask about the dish or questioned the champion if he should eat the deadly sweet cake. (chapter 69) The alcohol was masked by the sweetness. Moreover, let’s not forget that these “Kaffee and Kuchen” were offered by the CEO. However, the paradox is that the star didn’t fall for this trick. He chose to drink the coca while staring at the cake. (chapter 69) At no moment he felt tempted by the dish. The angel Kim Dan was protecting him from a distance. The athlete longs for homemade food: (chapter 22)

A Meeting Built on Fear 

Since I detected some similarities with the manipulative coffee meeting between Kim Dan and Choi Gilseok, another difference stood out to me. Though doc Dan had been approached in front of the gym (chapter 48), their meeting was not supposed to be secretive. On the other hand, because the scene was photographed (chapter 48), it created the illusion of “betrayal” as it looked like a secret meeting”. In episode 69, the meeting is hidden from the public. In contrast to the earlier public appearance alongside Baek Junmin for the cameras (chapter 47), —where the CEO posed proudly and visibly as a form of promotional endorsement—this encounter is cloaked in secrecy. According to Park Namwook, the CEO only stopped by South Korea specifically to meet the champion, as if offering him a special privilege. (chapter 69) This framing is deceptive: far from being a gesture of goodwill, it reveals the urgency and opportunism driving the meeting. However, this gesture is carefully staged: the CEO and the woman in red are the ones who selected the time and location of the encounter, placing the athlete in a reactive position where he must adjust his schedule to their convenience. It reinforces the illusion of privilege while concealing a dynamic of control. The meeting is designed to appear personalized, but it reflects MFC’s ethos that ‘time is money’—a business-centered logic that prioritizes efficiency over empathy. The CEO’s urgency to schedule a match, despite Jaekyung’s unclear health status, further exposes the commodification of the athlete. Notably, the proposed match is not even a title bout. (chapter 69) This strategic omission likely serves to shield the organization from scrutiny, as a title match would demand full transparency around the champion’s ranking and physical condition—areas that may not withstand public examination. In truth, the meeting is not about offering the protagonist an opportunity, but about maintaining MFC’s narrative control while exploiting his fame. This framing is deceptive: far from being a gesture of goodwill, it reveals the urgency and opportunism driving the meeting. To conclude, the discreet setting implies that MFC is not interested in publicizing their dealings with the star, possibly to avoid scrutiny or backlash. The lack of transparency underscores the manipulative nature of this so-called “favor,” which ultimately serves the organization’s agenda, not the athlete’s interests. The problem is that this meeting is heard by doc Dan (chapter 69), hence the “future match” is no longer a secret. (chapter 69)

The core motivation behind this encounter is fear. First, due to this phone conversation, Jinx-worms could sense that the celebrity was not moving on from the past, he was still pressuring MFC to investigate the matter concerning the switched spray. (chapter 67) He was not dropping the case. That’s the reason why the fighter is offered a match in the fall. If he is busy, then he might forget the “case”, especially since fall is right around the corner. He would be occupied training. Like mentioned in previous essays, my theory is that the CEO is involved in the scheme. This assumption got reinforced with this meeting. Striking is that the focus of the “chief of security” was the incident in the States. (chapter 69) By stating that the criminal belonged to a Korean gang in the States, she implied that this man had no direct connection in South Korea. In addition, with this statement, she claims that he is still in the States and the champion is safe. However, if the “fake manager” had been living in the States for a long time, he wouldn’t have spoken in Korean automatically. (chapter 37) In other words, she is trying to place the mastermind in South Korea. (chapter 69) This means that she is attempting to erase the involvement of MFC in the scheme. That’s why they are now offering an apology, which is naturally fake: (chapter 69) However, I believe that there’s more to it. First, the CEO is planning a schedule in the fall, but he hasn’t selected the opponent yet, a sign that they are rushing things. (chapter 69) Besides, don’t forget that the game in Seoul was rigged, hence the result was a tie. Because the cakes were all from Europe, I am suspecting that his match should take place abroad, in Europe. Moreover, since I sensed parallels between chapter 69 and 42 (chapter 42), it dawned on me that MFC is actually treating the Emperor like a “cash cow”, they imagine that they can keep milking him. I could say, this encounter is exposing the reality to the athlete: Joo Jaekyung is treated like any other fighter. Hence there is no longer mention of Baek Junmin in the news. On the other hand, they have to vouch for Baek Junmin’s integrity (chapter 69), for the CEO had declared him that the Shotgun had that star quality. (chapter 69) In other words, they are trying to bury the case, thinking that giving him an opportunity will stop the champion from pressuring them any further.

As for Park Namwook, the latter has a similar interest. Since the athlete has been avoiding the gym, he imagines that organizing an imminent fight will push the champion to return to the gym. However, the reality is that Joo JAekyung can train anywhere, he has never needed Park Namwook by his side. Besides, he has another hidden motivation for supporting this match: his fear of being forgotten. (chapter 69) For him, the title of “champion” is not Jaekyung’s alone—it is part of his identity. Without the champion, Park Namwook is no one. His aim is to push the athlete back into the gym, to keep the wheels turning. With his words, he created the illusion that the Emperor would lose his special status and title, if he doesn‘t return to the ring soon.

But his plan is flawed. First, Jaekyung is still recovering. No one mentions his health. Unlike Chapter 41, where he referred to the MFC’s medical clearance, (chapter 41) here the topic is avoided altogether—possibly due to the lack of actual clearance. Should a third-party hospital intervene, the match could be canceled. Secondly, Park Namwook assumes control of the timeline: a match in the fall means training now. But the champion is no longer dancing to his tune. He is meditating, admitting his exhaustion. (chapter 69) His priorities have changed: Kim Dan. This chapter announces a turning point of the Emperor, he is getting liberated from his “role” as Champion. Besides, if he were to lose the game, they can blame the athlete for his bad decision: he returned to the ring too soon. That’s the reason why the meeting and offer from the CEO was not revealed to the public.

One notable moment in the meeting is the aborted (fake) apology from the CEO (chapter 69) —an empty gesture blocked by Park Namwook, who clearly fears the emotional consequences of honesty. His interruption signals an unwillingness to address the past and a desperate attempt to reframe the narrative. Besides, a senior is lowering himself to a younger man, this stands in opposition to social norms, especially for the manager’s. One might say that there is a fake apology, because Joo Jaekyung is a star and champion. However, it is important to recall that he is in truth the head of Team Black. He is the true owner of the gym. He is also a head of a small company, (chapter 69) So Joo JAekyung is more than a fighter and the apology (interrupted by the manager) is the evidence for this. Under this new light, Jinx-philes can understand Park Namwook’s interruption and embarassement. Not only he doesn‘t want to be reminded of his past mistakes (passivity, failure of his job, the slap), but also this apology serves as a mirror and reminder that he is not the true owner of the gym.

At the same time, the CEO and woman in red are not realizing that by acting this way (chapter 69), they were recognizing Kim Dan as a part of “Joo Jaekyung’s team”. He is no longer alone, he is on his way to develop his own “team”, far away from Park Namwook’s influence. Finally, since Mingwa made constantly references to scenes from chapter 40, we should see this meeting in front of a round table as a new version of “the interrogation scene” where Kim Dan was pressured to admit a crime and as such to say yes. Yet, at no moment the main lead said anything. On the surface, he remained silent, patient and obedient (chapter 69), but in reality his mind was elsewhere: on doc Dan! (chapter 69) He is his unseen savior. Thanks to Kim Dan, the star remained silent and calm giving the impression that he had fallen for MFC’s trick.

There exists two other reasons why I am comparing this secret meeting (chapter 69) with the interrogation room in the States. First, he use of English throughout the entire conversation (indicated by blue speech bubbles) reinforces their arrogance and detachment. It exposes their view of Jaekyung as merely a fighter lacking education, whose linguistic skills might not allow full comprehension. (chapter 40) This echoes Kim Dan’s confusion in Chapter 40 when interrogated in English. It also conveniently hides their ties to local authorities—acting as foreigners with no responsibility or rootedness in Korea. But this is what director Choi Gilseok confessed to the angel: (chapter 48) The business is rooted in the USA.

Moreover, Park Namwook’s physical placement in the room (chapter 69) reinforces his symbolic role in this dynamic. He is seated directly in front of the door, characterized by its striking orange-black motif. Rather than standing as a guardian or ally, his position evokes that of a gatekeeper—someone who controls access and restricts transparency. This is especially poignant when contrasted with Chapter 40, where Joo Jaekyung had burst into an interrogation room to protect Kim Dan (chapter 40), effectively opening the metaphorical door to truth and protection. In this meeting, however, Park Namwook serves to contain and silence, not to defend. His placement underscores his complicity and fear—not just of the CEO or MFC, but of confronting the consequences of his own failures. But the manager is on his way for a rude awakening, he will be taught a lesson: don’t judge a book by its cover. The athlete won’t be the depressed, anxious, submissive and passive “boy” any longer. Moreover, he listened carefully to the chief of security: (chapter 69), so at some point he will remember their statement and discover the deception.

Metamorphosis and Reorientation 

The square cake (chapter 69) signifies the champion’s true nature: disciplined, resilient, seeking truth. Its rigid, geometric shape symbolizes structure, balance, and clarity—reflecting his desire to make sense of his chaotic circumstances and reclaim control over his life. Unlike the circular or layered desserts of the others, the square form suggests a grounded and introspective mindset. It serves as a metaphor for his ongoing transformation: moving away from being a tool for others and toward becoming a fully autonomous individual with his own moral compass and emotional center. Kim Dan, symbolized by a circle, represents softness, unity, emotion. In Chapter 69, we see Jaekyung internalize this through the reflection in his pupil—a circular form. His new “center” is no longer the belt, the rank, or the applause. (chapter 69) It is Kim Dan.

This shift is not just emotional but philosophical. Unlike the CEO and Park Namwook, who treat time as currency and rush through everything, Jaekyung is now learning to be present. He no longer wants to fight to survive or prove something. The ring, once a battleground, could become a place of meaning again—but only if he fights for something real.

Geography and Time

 Symbolism blends into geography. Jaekyung now lives in a small town on the northwest coast of South Korea. His journey from Seoul takes hours— (chapter 69) he leaves during the day and arrives by night. (chapter 69) This spatial detachment echoes his emotional separation from MFC and its toxic grip. Distance, both literal and figurative, is now his strength. The fact that he chose to return to the little town outlines that he is now considering that place as his “home” and not the penthouse. He is not realizing that his true home is doc Dan.

Conclusion 

The Sweet Curse of the Round Table is a tale of control masquerading as diplomacy. The round table offers no true equality; it is a trap dressed as tradition. But Jaekyung, scarred yet evolving, is no longer fooled. His eyes have found a new center—not in gold belts or rankings, but in the quiet presence of someone who sees him as human.

And as the “blue knight,” he may one day bring other fighters to a new table—not to be ruled, but to share in a dream grounded in truth, not gold.

Interestingly, visual foreshadowing appears as early as Chapter 32. (chapter 32) During Kim Dan’s lunch with Choi Heesung, the floor beneath their round table shows a twelve-petal flower motif—evocative of the legendary Knights of the Round Table, who were said to sit twelve strong. That earlier scene featured Heesung testing Dan, much like the fake round table later hosts a veiled test for Joo Jaekyung. The repetition of round tables masks exclusion and betrayal. These early “false” tables pave the way for a true table—one that Jaekyung might one day forge with fighters like Heesung, Potato, Oh Daehyun, and others, where loyalty and respect, not manipulation, define the bond.

For now, he eats dessert with devils. But he no longer hungers for their approval.

PS: I am suspecting that the proposed “fight” will take in Europe, but not in Italy, rather in Germany or France. Angelo should appear later as the last match.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: Perfect 👼🏼 Defect 😈 🥺🥀❤️‍🩹

The recent developments in Jinx Chapters 65 and 66 provide a striking insight into the ongoing inner turmoil between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan. Many readers have long labeled Joo Jaekyung as a ‘red flag,’ and as such as a demon. Therefore when he used the idiom ‘defect,’ (chapter 66) they saw it as further confirmation of their perception—reinforcing the idea that he is terribly flawed. However, a deeper analysis suggests that this term reflects not just his character but also his evolving mindset and struggle with emotional vulnerability. This essay will explore the paradox at the heart of their dynamic—how both men refuse to acknowledge the emotional weight of their relationship, leading to a cycle of denial and misperception. It will examine how the concept of the jinx evolves, the continued influence of Park Namwook’s manipulations on Joo Jaekyung, and the role that mutual ingratitude plays in their emotional stagnation.

The Evolution of the Jinx: From Powerlessness to Repair

Initially, Joo Jaekyung’s jinx was a ritual designed to maintain control and secure victory. (chapter 2) This belief system dictated that, no matter what, he had to have sex with a man before every match—reinforcing the illusion that he could manipulate fate through repetition. The identity of his partner was irrelevant; what mattered was the act itself, which he perceived as a necessity rather than a choice. This routine provided him with a sense of control, but it also underscored a fundamental reliance on external factors rather than his own abilities. In Chapter 65, however, a subtle shift occurs. While the champion has not dropped his belief yet: (chapter 65), the nature of his principle has changed: (chapter 65)The athlete is admitting his dependency on doc Dan. The jinx is now directly tied to Kim Dan, not just as a concept but as a tangible element of Joo Jaekyung’s career stability. The second switch is that sex is no longer a condition to ward off bad luck. In fact, the celebrity is recognizing the importance of his daily training and, as such, his hard work. (chapter 65) The inner thoughts of the sportsman reveal that the champion is feeling less powerless than before. His champion status is no longer reliant on superstition but on tangible efforts—his “old routine” and, crucially, Kim Dan’s expertise as a physical therapist. This marks a significant transformation in his perception of Kim Dan, whom he now values for his professional skills rather than as a mere tool for maintaining a ritual. Thus, Joo Jaekyung should be less inclined to request Doc Dan’s sexual services. Then, in episode 66, a new change became visible. (chapter 66) The term defect emerges in his inner monologue, marking a transition from viewing the jinx as a form of dependency to seeing Kim Dan as someone in need of repair. This linguistic change is crucial—jinx implies something external, uncontrollable, and tied to fate, whereas defect introduces the notion of something that can be fixed or even improved.

Joo Jaekyung’s use of the term ‘defect’ stems from his deeply ingrained perception of both himself and others as products rather than individuals with intrinsic worth. Instead of saying that Kim Dan is ‘sick’ or struggling, he labels him as ‘defective,’ mirroring his own self-perception. The champion has long seen himself as nothing more than an athlete, a machine built for fighting—functional when at peak performance, broken when failing. This perception is reinforced by his manager, Park Namwook, who treats him as nothing more than an ATM (chapter 11), a tool to generate money and maintain the gym’s reputation. Hence he blames him, when members leave the gym. (chapter 46) The manager used the incident with Seonho to justify the desertion of the other athletes. However, it is clear that some left the gym because they didn’t become successful like Joo Jaekyung. However, their lack of success is explained by their lack of talent (chapter 46) exposing the lack of ambition and commitment from the two hyungs. It is clear that Joo Jaekyung’s wealth and fame was used to attract the sportsmen creating a myth that they could experience the same success. Nevertheless, as time passed on, the fighters were confronted with reality. It was, as if the athlete’s achievement had become a curse for Team Black. Nonetheless, neither the manager nor the coach can admit it, the champion’s bad temper is utilized to cover the mismanagement within the gym. Striking is that by portraying the protagonist as a person with a bad temper and personality , (chapter 9) the manager and his colleague described their boss as defective. The contrast between Joo Jaekyung’s perception of ‘defect’ and the coach’s view of him as a ‘maniac’ is particularly telling. When the protagonist refers to Kim Dan as having a defect, there is an implicit acknowledgment that something can be repaired or improved. In contrast, Park Namwook’s statement about ‘handling that maniac’ suggests that the star is beyond fixing—someone who must be tolerated and controlled rather than understood or helped. This fundamental difference in perspective reveals how deeply the manager has shaped the champion’s self-perception, reinforcing the idea that he is nothing more than a force to be managed rather than a person who can change or grow.

Ironically, (chapter 11) Joo Jaekyung once accused Kim Dan of seeing him as an ATM back in Chapter 11, but in reality, it is his manager who exploits him as a financial asset rather than recognizing his humanity. Hence he wants him to return to the ring as soon as possible. (chapter 54)

Under this new light, Jinx-philes can grasp why the “demon” (chapter 66) refers to Kim Dan’s condition as a ‘defect’ rather than acknowledging that the doctor is unwell. In doing so, he mirrors how he has been conditioned to see himself—not as a person who can be sick or in need of help, but as something that must either function or be discarded. The paradox is that without him, the gym can no longer attract members, hence Team Black would be forced to close its doors. That’s the reason why the manager is inciting the athlete to return to the gym. (chapter 66) His presence is necessary to maintain the “myth” alive.

But let’s return our attention to the fighter. (chapter 66) Notice that the champion doesn’t say that Kim Dan is sick or suffering from sleeping problems. His words expose that Joo Jaekyung still views life through the lens of having rather than being, seeing both himself and others as assets to be maintained rather than individuals with intrinsic worth. Furthermore, this label is deeply connected to Kim Dan’s own sleeping problems, which mirror Joo Jaekyung’s insomnia.

By recognizing a flaw in Kim Dan, he unconsciously acknowledges his own suffering without explicitly confronting it. Therefore he is accompanying the protagonist to the sleep specialist. (chapter 66) In calling Kim Dan ‘defect,’ Joo Jaekyung is unknowingly projecting his own self-perception onto him. The term suggests something broken but also something that can be repaired, reflecting an unconscious shift in his perspective. Instead of simply using Kim Dan as part of a superstition, he is beginning to see his vulnerability, perhaps even recognizing a parallel to his own struggles. His choice of words also reveals his deeply ingrained belief in self-reliance. (chapter 66) Kim Dan’s nighttime distress contradicts this principle, as it suggests an inability to be alone. This mirrors Joo Jaekyung’s own realization in the garden (chapter 65), where he admitted to himself that he was no longer entirely self-reliant. By calling Kim Dan ‘defect,’ he not only acknowledges the therapist’s struggles but also his own growing dependency on him—though he remains unwilling to fully confront it.

This shift is significant because it alludes that Joo Jaekyung is beginning to see himself as capable of affecting change. For someone conditioned to endure suffering without seeking help, viewing another person as defective paradoxically offers him a sense of power and responsibility. (chapter 66) Hence it is no coincidence that he chose to bring himself the “hamster” to the hospital. (chapter 66) Nevertheless, the idiom (“he’s got a defect”) reveal that Joo Jaekyung is still under the manager’s influence. This means that this shift is not immediate or conscious; it is restrained by his continued loyalty to Park Namwook and his ingrained avoidance of emotional vulnerability.

The Manager’s Manipulations: Control Through Information

Striking is that in season 2, the champion is almost never seen with the other members from Team Black. (chapter 60) This scene represents the exception. For the most part of the time, the star only visited the gym because Park Namwook had contacted him. (chapter 54) (chapter 66) Striking is that by each meeting, the champion was alone with the manager. The latter was no longer followed by coach Yosep. It was, as if Park Namwook wanted to have some privacy with the celebrity. However, through this contrast, Jinx-lovers can detect a certain MO from the manager: he is isolating the champion, limiting his interactions with other members. This explicates why he remains a pivotal force in Joo Jaekyung’s stagnation.

A clear example of Park Namwook’s manipulative tendencies emerges in his interactions with Joo Jaekyung in Chapter 66. He subtly pressures the champion to return to the gym by implying that his current behavior—isolating himself—is not normal. (chapter 66) Yet, just moments later, he tells him that he can take more time to rest, as if feigning concern. This contradiction is striking because it exposes his underlying agenda: he wants Joo Jaekyung back in the gym but doesn’t want to appear forceful. Instead, he makes it seem like Joo Jaekyung is the one making the decision, fostering guilt by implying that his long absence is unnatural.

What makes this irony even more apparent is that Park Namwook has, in the past, dismissed Joo Jaekyung as a ‘spoiled child with a bad temper.’ (chapter 52) His sudden shift—acting as though the champion is no longer himself—reveals his inconsistency. When Joo Jaekyung was compliant, he was simply a reckless athlete with an attitude. Now that he is exhibiting autonomy, Park Namwook implies that something is wrong with him. It was, as though he was missing the old version of the champion. 😂 But this is what he complained about him in the past: he was a workaholic! (chapter 27) This double standard highlights Park Namwook’s true role: he is not a supportive figure but a handler, ensuring that Joo Jaekyung remains under control and fulfilling his duties as a fighter. His words are not meant to provide genuine support but to keep Joo Jaekyung tethered to a system where his worth is defined solely by his success in the ring.

His subtle manipulations ensure that Joo Jaekyung remains dependent on his management, discouraging emotional entanglements that might threaten his control. This is evident in the way he frames Joo Jaekyung’s return to training in Chapter 66, focusing on ensuring compliance rather than addressing the champion’s personal struggles. (chapter 66) Park Namwook ensures that Joo Jaekyung remains confined within the narrow definition of an athlete whose sole purpose is to generate victories and revenue. By subtly invalidating the fighter’s autonomy, he fosters a cycle of dependency, discouraging any form of emotional connection or self-reflection that might lead Joo Jaekyung to question his control. The manager’s contradictions—both urging him to take his time yet implying his behavior is unnatural—serve to reinforce this conditioning, ensuring that the champion remains locked in a pattern of obligation rather than self-discovery. In doing so, Park Namwook not only suppresses Joo Jaekyung’s potential for growth but also reinforces the deeply ingrained perception that his worth is conditional and transactional.

His tactics extend beyond mere coaching—he controls information, as seen in his omission of lost sponsorships (chapter 54) or (un)favorable interviews about the athlete. (chapter 54) (Chapter 57) As a manager, Park Namwook’s role involves overseeing Joo Jaekyung’s career, securing contracts, and ensuring his reputation remains intact. Yet, as seen in Chapter 66, his actual concerns seem remarkably narrow in scope. (chapter 66) When speaking to Joo Jaekyung, Park Namwook focuses exclusively on the gym—as if the athlete were merely a member rather than the actual owner. This detail is particularly ironic, as it reveals that the man with the glasses sees himself as the one in charge, entitled to dictate Joo Jaekyung’s movements and decisions. His fixation on the gym exposes why he shows no interest in other crucial aspects of the champion’s career, such as contracts, endorsements, or emotional and physical recovery. His management is driven not by genuine concern for the fighter’s well-being, but by a desire to uphold the gym’s operation and reinforce his perceived authority within it. To conclude, his true motivation lies in preserving the gym’s function and image, treating Joo Jaekyung as a means to that end rather than supporting him as a multidimensional individual with emotional and professional needs. That’s the reason why he shows no curiosity about his star’s private life: “I don’t know what you’ve been up to lately”. (chapter 66)

Because his failure to reveal lost sponsorships and unfavorable interviews in Season 2 suggests a pattern of withholding critical information, I couldn’t help myself thinking to see as another clue that his omission extends to the fateful meeting between Choi Gilseok and Kim Dan, which took place in front of “HIS” gym! (chapter 48) Back then, there was a witness, Kwak Junbeom and the latter could have reported to the “hyung”. These incidents indicate a consistent effort to control what the champion knows, raising the critical question: why?? His silence on this matter suggests not only a strategic decision to keep the star uninformed, but also an attempt to avoid responsibility. The supervisor often hesitates to make decisive choices (chapter 50), preferring instead to remain passive so that any negative outcomes can be blamed on the champion. At the same time, this passivity helps him maintain control—as if Joo Jaekyung, without his guidance, would be left ‘alone’ and directionless. In this way, the man with the glasses sustains a dynamic in which the champion feels dependent on his presence, even as he is subtly undermined. By neglecting to inform him of these events, Park Namwook ensures that the champion remains unaware of external factors that could influence his choices. This pattern reinforces the possibility that Park Namwook was aware of the meeting with Choi Gilseok and deliberately ignored it, likely expecting that Joo Jaekyung would take care of it, while absolving himself of responsibility.

Park Namwook’s motivations become clearer when viewed through this lens. In his eyes, Joo Jaekyung is now physically perfect (chapter 66) —his shoulder has healed, and he should be able to return to the ring. However, at the same time, he regards him as defective (chapter 66) because he no longer displays the same single-minded devotion to fighting. Joo Jaekyung’s emotional distance from the gym and his growing attachment to Kim Dan mark a transformation that the manager interprets as a threat. Instead of embracing this evolution, the “supervisor” views it as a flaw—proof that the champion is no longer operating under the selfish, work-driven mindset he once encouraged. This contradiction reflects the “hyung”’s twisted priorities: he sees the gym as the center of value and promotes an ideology of workaholism, selfishness, and emotional suppression. Since he has no one by his side, he should come to the gym, as if he would nurture relationships there. To him, the ideal fighter is one who exists solely for the ring, forgoing connection or personal growth. In that sense, the protagonist becomes the Perfect Defect—flawless in form but, in Park Namwook’s eyes, failing in function by daring to become more human. The manager’s repeated emphasis on the gym reveals his narrow view of the champion’s purpose, treating him as a member rather than the rightful owner. This misperception reflects Park Namwook’s deeper worldview: he represents workaholism, selfishness, and greed, believing that the only acceptable behavior is unwavering devotion to the gym and career success.

The Slow Burn: Why The Characters’ Mindset Is Not Changing Abruptly

Despite these moments of introspection (chapter 65), the “wolf” does not immediately alter his behavior. (chapter 66) This hesitation stems from deeply ingrained beliefs about relationships and fidelity. His loyalty to Park Namwook prevents him from fully confronting the possibility that his manager may not have his best interests at heart. Moreover, his own emotional repression makes it difficult for him to recognize his evolving dependency on Kim Dan as something beyond physical necessity.

But there exists another reason for his slow transformation, the influence of the location. Notice that he agreed to his hyung’s statement, when he was in the penthouse. The latter stands for civilization and as such “corruption”. Thus I came to the following interpretation. The penthouse represents the manager’s power over the champion, which explicates why Oh Daehyun and the other fighters spoke about that place in admiration in front of their coach. (chapter 22) They had heard about his place, for the manager must have talked about it. The protagonist is not someone who will talk about his private life to others. The manager must have dangled promises in front of them, making them believe that if they’re lucky enough, they too could live like the champion. However, their reactions reveal something crucial—they are not motivated by greed but by genuine admiration. They simply want to experience the luxury once in a while, reinforcing that their bond with Joo Jaekyung is rooted in camaraderie rather than material envy. This further highlights the contrast between Park Namwook’s manipulation and the sincere regard his teammates have for him. This scene is important, because it exposes the manager’s prejudices and lack of discernment. (chapter 46) Not everyone is the same and more importantly like him! It is clear that the man is projecting his own principles onto others and in particular onto the champion.

His reluctance is further reinforced by the lack of validation from Kim Dan. (chapter 66) Neither of them fully understands how to acknowledge care or support. Just as Joo Jaekyung struggles to recognize his actions as stemming from concern (chapter 66) rather than routine, Kim Dan fails to see Joo Jaekyung’s interventions as genuine help. This mutual misunderstanding deepens the emotional rift between them, ensuring that both remain trapped in their own perceptions of obligation rather than connection. In Chapter 66, he openly expresses frustration, stating, (chapter 66). This moment highlights a rare glimpse of honesty: he is not acting purely out of self-interest, but he frames it as an obligation rather than a choice. From my point of view, such a statement could only reach the physical therapist’s mind, for in the latter’s eyes, the champion has always been a “demon”: self-centered and inconsiderate. Observe the absence of reply from the “hamster”. He couldn’t contradict the star, as the latter was using this negative image: bad tempered and selfish.

Mingwa has long associated doc Dan with an angel. . The reason is simple. He was portrayed as someone who would do favors to people constantly: his grandmother (chapter 53), the manager (chapter 9), the fighters (chapter 7) and even Choi Heesung. Hence the latter called him like that: (chapter 30) Kim Dan’s perception of himself as an “angel” has long shaped the way he interprets his relationship with Joo Jaekyung. Reinforced by his upbringing and Park Namwook’s subtle manipulation (chapter 36), he has unconsciously placed himself in a position of moral superiority. He is the patient, understanding figure, while Joo Jaekyung, in contrast, is violent (chapter 1), selfish, and emotionally stunted. However, this self-perception is deeply flawed. By believing himself to be inherently better (chapter 64) than the champion, Kim Dan avoids confronting his own emotional repression, his weaknesses, and his own form of “defectiveness.” He fails to see that he is just as human—just as fragile—as the man he silently judges. (chapter 66) The expression “Really…?” is not just about disbelief but also about a moment of confrontation with reality. Up until this point, Kim Dan has been dismissing his own suffering, suppressing his struggles, and functioning on autopilot. However, hearing a professional confirm that he is indeed sick forces him to acknowledge what he has been denying.

The word “really” acts as a bridge between doubt and acceptance, signaling that reality is crashing down on him. This corresponds to the downfall of an angel. He can no longer minimize or rationalize his exhaustion as something temporary—it’s a legitimate condition, one that requires attention. This realization is significant because it directly challenges his self-perception. He has always seen himself as someone who must endure, someone who cannot afford to be weak. But now, he is faced with undeniable evidence that he is not just tired—he is unwell.

This moment marks a turning point, where the truth of his condition is no longer something he can push aside. So far, he has always dismissed the champion’s remarks as “lies”: (chapter 60) or exaggerations. (chapter 66) It also forces him to consider that others—especially Joo Jaekyung—were right to be concerned, which in turn may lead to a shift in his perception of the champion’s actions.

Furthermore, Kim Dan grew up in an environment where repressing his desires was not just expected but necessary for survival. He was conditioned to associate sex (chapter 20) with shame, something impure that should be avoided or hidden. This internalized belief made it difficult for him to separate his own experiences from moral judgment. When he encountered the champion —who treated sex as nothing more than a professional ritual (chapter 2)—this stark contrast reinforced his existing worldview. He saw the celebrity as reckless, immoral, and impulsive, someone who lacked restraint and viewed intimacy as just another means to an end. In contrast, Kim Dan unconsciously positioned himself as purer—someone who was above such base instincts.

However, this sense of superiority is deeply paradoxical. While he judged Joo Jaekyung for his behavior, he was also the one who allowed himself to be drawn into the transactional dynamic without resisting it. Instead of questioning or confronting the situation, he passively accepted it, reinforcing his own role within the dynamic. His moral disdain for Joo Jaekyung did not stop him from complying with the athlete’s demands. This contradiction highlights Kim Dan’s deeper struggle: he is caught between his ingrained judgment and his own passivity. He wants to believe he is different from Joo Jaekyung, yet his actions—or lack thereof—suggest otherwise. This explicates why he is projecting his own behavior onto the athlete’s: (chapter 66) He assumed once again that the star had taken advantage of his “drunkenness”, something Kim Dan had done himself in the past.

This internal conflict plays a crucial role in why he struggles to acknowledge the changes in Joo Jaekyung’s behavior. If he were to admit that the champion is not just a brute, that he is capable of genuine concern, it would force him to reconsider his own beliefs—not just about Joo Jaekyung, but about himself. To do so, however, means dismantling the rigid perception of morality and purity he has clung to for so long. Until Kim Dan comes to terms with his own contradictions, he will continue to misunderstand Joo Jaekyung’s intentions, keeping them both trapped in a cycle of mutual misperception.

Mingwa has frequently associated Kim Dan with angelic imagery, but this serves as a double-edged sword. While it elevates him in the eyes of others, it also creates a psychological barrier that prevents him from recognizing his own suffering. His insomnia, his malnutrition, his growing depression—these are all things he ignores or downplays (chapter 66), even as they take a visible toll on his body. If he were to acknowledge his own vulnerabilities, he would have to admit that he is not above needing help, something he has spent his entire life avoiding. Instead, he clings to the idea that he must endure in silence, reinforcing the very behaviors that keep him trapped in a cycle of self-neglect.

This ties directly into the slow transformation of both characters. The angel needs to be reminded of his own true nature: he is human, and like any human, he can get sick, he can struggle, and he can fail. On the other hand, the champion, who has long internalized to see people through the lens of function and utility, has to recognize that being “defective” can represent a source of strength. So far, for him defect meant being worthless. Their reluctance to break away from these ingrained perceptions of themselves is precisely what keeps them at odds. Kim Dan resents Joo Jaekyung for his supposed lack of morality, yet he does not realize that his own self-righteousness blinds him to the reality of their relationship. Likewise, Joo Jaekyung, having always been valued for his physicality rather than his emotions, fails to grasp that true strength lies in acknowledging weakness—not erasing it.

This is why their transformations are not immediate. Their beliefs have been deeply ingrained through years of conditioning, and it takes more than a few interactions to dismantle them. Imagine this: a demon speaking to an angel, it perfectly encapsulates why they struggle to find common ground. Their fundamental worldviews have been shaped by entirely different environments—Kim Dan, who has been conditioned to suppress his desires and associate sex with shame, and Joo Jaekyung, who treats it as a necessity detached from emotion. This contrast creates a deep chasm between them, where one views the other as morally inferior, while the other sees emotional attachment as unnecessary or even a weakness.

Yet, the only place they can truly meet is Earth—neutral ground where neither absolute morality (Heaven) nor pure instinct (Hell) dictates their actions. And that would be the little town on the coast. (chapter 65) Symbolically, this reflects their respective journeys. The demon (Joo Jaekyung) is slowly leaving the underworld of detachment and blind routine, stepping toward vulnerability. Meanwhile, the angel (Kim Dan) is descending from his idealized, self-righteous perception of himself, recognizing his own flaws, desires, and limitations. Both must step away from their extremes—Kim Dan from his unconscious moral superiority and passive victimhood, and Joo Jaekyung from his emotional repression and transactional mindset.

Until they meet in the middle—on Earth, where human connection, vulnerability, and compromise exist—they will continue to misunderstand each other. Their so-called defects are what ultimately bind them together, but until they acknowledge them, they will remain locked in their cycle of denial and emotional stagnation. Kim Dan must first recognize that his suffering is valid, that he is not above pain, and that needing help does not make him weak. Likewise, Joo Jaekyung must learn that genuine care is not a transaction, nor is vulnerability a flaw. Until both confront these truths, they will continue to misunderstand each other, pushing one another away even as they inch closer to genuine connection.

The Missing Gratitude: A Two-Sided Problem

The absence of gratitude on both sides serves as the linchpin of their emotional stalemate. Joo Jaekyung, for all his power and success, has never been properly acknowledged outside of his career achievements (chapter 40) , while Kim Dan, conditioned by years of emotional neglect, sees gratitude as a transactional exchange rather than an expression of genuine appreciation. (chapter This creates a vicious cycle—Joo Jaekyung continues to view Kim Dan as a ‘defect’ (chapter 66) because Kim Dan does not recognize his efforts, while Kim Dan cannot see past his own survival instincts to notice that Joo Jaekyung’s actions are slowly shifting from obligation to care. Kim Dan, conditioned by years of neglect and survival-driven thinking, does not see Joo Jaekyung’s actions as genuine care. (chapter 66) He assumes everything comes with a price, failing to recognize moments where Joo Jaekyung acts beyond obligation.

Conversely, Joo Jaekyung, still in denial about his emotional investment, refuses to acknowledge any deeper attachment to Kim Dan. (chapter 66) And now, you comprehend why the champion employed the idiom “defect”. As long as Kim Dan does not express gratitude, Joo Jaekyung can continue convincing himself that his actions are dictated by habit or self-interest rather than care. Their inability to recognize and articulate their changing dynamic keeps them locked in a cycle of emotional detachment. Nevertheless, it becomes clear that this vicious cycle will stop, as now these two men are little by little influenced by the nice landlord: (chapter 66) And the latter can see beyond the appearances.

Conclusion: The Perfect Defect

In the end, the irony is that both characters see the other as defective in some way—Kim Dan as someone who is broken and in need of fixing, and Joo Jaekyung as someone incapable of expressing genuine care. Yet, it is precisely their emotional shortcomings that make them a perfect mirror for each other. The evolution of the jinx into defect signals an impending shift, but until gratitude is exchanged—until one of them acknowledges the other’s role in their life—the cycle will persist. As long as Kim Dan remains emotionally detached, Joo Jaekyung will continue denying his own feelings, making them each other’s Perfect Defect.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: 𓇢𓆸 Prove Me Wrong Again 💢😂

When you look at the illustration, your eyes are immediately drawn to the broken mirror at its center. As you can imagine, the cracked reflection, fragmented and distorted, is essentially referring to our protagonist Kim Dan. The broken mirror echoes Kim Dan’s shattered self-esteem. It is a visual representation of his inner dialogue: the doubts, fears, and insecurities that have long dictated his life. His reluctance to assert himself (chapter 36), his tendency to retreat rather than challenge his own doubts (chapter 36), and his overwhelming fear of disappointing others (chapter 51) are all reflections of these internalized obstacles. Recognizing them as external impositions rather than intrinsic truths is the first step to breaking free. That’s the reason why in the reflection of the broken mirror, you can detect an open window in the background. By focusing too much on his reflection, the physical therapist is trapped in his own negative world. One could perceive it as the opposite version of Narcissus. Yet rather than falling in love with his image, he sees only his flaws, reinforcing his belief that he is unworthy. The open window suggests an escape, a possibility for change, but the problem is that the main lead is too fixated on his shattered self-perception to pay attention to his surroundings. Hence he comes to neglect his own body and people next to him.

The Weight of Unseen Chains: Mental Barriers

The mental obstacles we impose upon ourselves can be some of the most difficult to overcome. In the article “The mental obstacles you put on yourself to stop moving forward” Jennifer Delgado explains that these barriers often originate from the voices of significant figures in our past. They can be parents, teachers, or even childhood bullies who shaped how we see ourselves.

Kim Dan’s struggles reflect this reality, just as Joo Jaekyung’s nightmare (chapter 54) suggests he too is haunted by such internalized voices. Under this new light, you comprehend why I wrote in the introduction that the broken mirror was mostly alluding to the doctor. Both protagonists are suffering from mental hurdles, trapped in a psychological prison. The significant difference is that while Kim Dan is consciously recognizing his self-doubt (chapter 62), Joo Jaekyung does not. The evidence for this interpretation is the champion’s nightmare: (chapter 54) Instead of realizing the words stem from an external source, an abuser from his past, he sees them as a reflection of his own fears and inadequacies. This explicates why he chose to drink. This terrible vision illustrates how internalized criticism functions: it feels personal, nonetheless its origins lie in past experiences. Both Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung are trapped in cycles of learned helplessness, shaped by voices that do not truly belong to them. Their self-doubt was not inherent; it was shaped by the expectations and criticisms of those around them. Striking is that Mingwa let us see how these mental obstacles are born. Observe that (chapter 18) the doctor (chapter 36) repeated the exact same words than his boss. This means that , the doctor internalized these limiting beliefs, thinking that he was not in a position to speak up or assert himself. This explicates why he had to convince himself that he was just a tool to the athlete. This explicates why at the end, he returned the champion’s jacket. The athlete never recognized him as a stan either. Simultaneously, the athlete was also the physical therapist’s emancipator, because he encouraged him to improve his skills and knowledge (chapter 25) Therefore the physical therapist bought books. Moreover, we should consider this argument (chapter 45) as a revocation of the star’s statement in episode 18. Kim Dan was no longer perceived as a tool, but as a real physical therapist. On the one hand, this request boosted the “angel’s ego”, on the other hand, he was put under immense pressure, for he was compared to his colleagues. (chapter 45) Since in Seoul, Kim Dan has only been hired because of sex (Joo Jaekyung, the perverted hospital director) (chapter 6), he came to accept that he was not truly talented. The champion had no trust in him and later, the word jinx triggered a repressed bad memory. (chapter 62) Due to his bad past experiences, he concluded deep down that his CV was not reflecting the truth. (chapter 56) That’s the reason why he was devaluing himself and as such not looking for a high position.

In her article, the psychologist outlines three primary mental barriers that keep individuals from moving forward:

  • It’s not the right time – The belief that circumstances must be perfect before taking action, leading to perpetual hesitation.
  • I’m not an expert – A sense of inadequacy that prevents people from trying, despite having the capability to learn and grow.
  • I will surely fail – A deeply ingrained fear of failure that discourages risk-taking and reinforces insecurities,

Striking is that in season 1, we could detect these three mental obstacles in the physical therapist’s life.

His unwillingness to defy Joo Jaekyung’s dismissal in episode 48 (chapter 48) exemplifies this pattern: (chapter 48) It was not the right time. He assumed his voice held no weight, reflecting years of learned helplessness. It shows how Kim Dan internalizes responsibility for things beyond his control. He thinks that withholding information is an act of protection rather than avoidance. Yet in doing so, he denies himself agency in his own life.

This aligns with Delgado’s argument—these limiting beliefs were not inherent truths but external influences that he internalized, preventing him from asserting himself. Thus I deduce that Kim Dan has unknowingly adopted his grandmother’s behavior—withholding information under the justification of “protecting” others. Therefore it is not astonishing that her grandson treated her the same way. He already concealed many things from her in order to protect her, and she was his only role model. Just as she concealed things from him (like her true feelings, the absence of the parents or even the way she spoke about him behind his back), Kim Dan did the same to Joo Jaekyung in episode 48. His rationale in this scene mirrors her method of control through omission.

Season two of Jinx only intensifies these self-imposed constraints. I noticed that the switched spray incident (chapter 62) completely devastated Kim Dan’s already fragile self-esteem. (chapter 62) First, he considers himself as waste. While in the past, he was at least a tool, he is now garbage. Hence his feelings are “trash”. (chapter 62) This means that in episode 62, he felt worse than in episode 18! The idioms “trash” and “waste” revealed the doctor’s own self-perception in episode 62: he saw himself as totally useless. He belonged to the “wastebasket”, just like the golden key chain. (chapter 46) Thus I deduce that the fate of this item echoes the doctor’s.

But let’s return our attention to his transformation in season 1. He was making progress thanks to Joo Jaekyung’s trust, but that one moment undid everything. (chapter 51) When he realized that the champion didn’t put his faith in him, he lost his motivation. This observation reminded me of the main lead’s previous statement. (chapter 47) He had selected this profession because of her. This shows that until now, he has never developed any ambition on his own. The loss of faith from someone he relied on for motivation made him feel completely worthless. This reinforces that his confidence and sense of direction were never self-sustained: they depended on others’ recognition. This pattern suggests that Kim Dan has never truly asked himself what he wants. His entire existence has revolved around meeting expectations, whether from his grandmother, Joo Jaekyung, or even his profession. His current crisis—feeling like waste—stems from the realization that without someone to validate his worth, he sees himself as nothing.

One might question this statement because of this scene: (chapter 59) However, observe that he is using the expressions “do” and “now”. This has nothing to do with the future and dreams. It is not a reflection on his own desires but rather an immediate reaction to his circumstances. His mindset is still trapped in survival mode, seeking a course of action rather than contemplating what he truly wants. His words reflect an urgency to act rather than an opportunity to dream. This highlights that he has spent his entire life making decisions based on necessity rather than personal fulfillment. Even when faced with uncertainty, he does not ask himself what he wants—only what he must do next. His transformation will only be complete when he begins to question not just how to survive, but how to live on his own terms. That’s how I realized why Mingwa put this question in front of the window covered with Venetian blinds [which made me think of this scene (chapter 39 – Venice, a travel to Italy]. The window with the Venetian blinds represents a metaphor for the doctor’s trapped dreams. This interpretation made me recognize another aspect. Kim Dan is pushed to meditate, when he is front of a window or better said close to the sky! Hence the hamster started thinking about his own future in the penthouse (chapter 19) or when he looked at the sun and sky: (chapter 41) (chapter 41) And the best evidence for this interpretation and expectation is doc Dan’s cellphone screen display. (chapter 38) My avid readers will certainly recall that clouds embody dreams! Why? It is because in verity, doc Dan is a dreamer, an ambitious man. What caught my attention is that his contact Joo Jaekyung was not saved with a picture!! And what had motivated Kim Dan in the past? (chapter 47) The picture from his childhood: himself with his grandmother. (chapter 66) But the latter was not related to work, but to fun and nature. Striking is that Joo Jaekyung has an empty phone screen display indicating that he has no real dream on his own either: (chapter 38) No wonder why he questioned the meaning of his champion title: (chapter 54). He saw the belt as something rather “meaningless”.

To conclude, for the couple to break free from their terrible mindset, they need to find purpose within themselves rather than constantly seeking external validation. But let’s focus more on doc Dan again. This also ties into the broader theme of meaningful praise—instead of being recognized for what he does, he needs to be valued for who he is. How can this take place? By taking a picture together! (chapter 43) This would boost the doctor’s self-esteem. He is not trash, but an acknowledged fan and friend. The picture would encourage the physical therapist to develop his own ambitions. As soon as I made this discovery, another detail caught my notice: (chapter 66) The celebrity has no picture of Park Namwook in his contacts divulging the superficiality of their relationship.

Then in her article, the psychologist mentioned two other mental barriers. “I’m not an expert”. That’s the reason why in episode 42, doc Dan used his colleague to voice his own thoughts. (chapter 42) The problem is that the athlete took this recommendation personally. He felt as if his job as fighter was questioned. (chapter 42) As you can see, the doctor’s hesitations were exposing his mental obstacles, which was reflected in the champion’s attitude. No wonder why doc Dan chose to become a courier as a second job instead of finding a new VIP client. While the interaction between the athlete and Kim Dan in front of the hospice display the return of doc Dan’s past mental hurdles:

  • I’m not an expert (chapter 62)
  • It’s not the right time: (chapter 62) According to the main lead, the champion is “wasting his time here”.
  • I will surely fail: (chapter 62)

The only difference to the past is that now the athlete could detect the presence of his partner’s negative thoughts. Nevertheless, by examining closely the statements from the main lead, I noticed other mental barriers that people place on themselves, which Delgado did not mention but are still strongly related to the other three:

  • Overthinking – Kim Dan fixates on past mistakes, questioning every action and thought. (chapter 62) Therefore the athlete tried to persuade his fated partner to accept his offer by saying this: “Don’t overthink” (chapter 62)
  • Catastrophizing – He assumes the worst possible outcome, believing another mistake could destroy his credibility entirely. The reality is that he expressed his regret of having used the spray: (chapter 57) Hence it is clear that in the future, the physical therapist would refuse to use any kind of spray. On the other hand, it is important to recall that back then, Joo Jaekyung had made the request himself: (chapter 49) So in the doctor’s mind, if he agreed to the champion’s request, he would be treated like in the past. He would have to simply to follow the athlete’s lead. That’s why he is imagining that he might be put in a similar situation than in the past. But there exists another reason why he refused the champion’s offer right from the start. It is because he has always perceived himself as “hands” which stand for selflessness and generosity. The latter defined doc Dan. Hence he looked at them, when he declared himself as a tool: (chapter 36) Under this new light, it occurred to me why the hamster had to reject the star’s offer right from the start. It is because he came to identify himself as the “spray”. Hence Mingwa created such panels, where Kim Dan’s terrible memories (chapter 57) (chapter 62) are combining the doctor’s hands with the spray. Then a spray is an item destined to be discarded. Is it a coincidence that Kim Dan “switched” places (chapter 1) with a previous PT like the spray? No wonder why he called himself “trash” in the end.
  • Preferring the comfort zone – To avoid failure, he tells himself he should step back (chapter 62) and let others handle things, rather than risk making another mistake. His patients at the hospice are all terminally ill, therefore they don’t have high expectations from him.

His belief that others are ‘wasting their time’ on him echoes a deeper conviction—that he himself is waste. By equating attention and care with wasted effort, he subconsciously devalues his own existence, reducing himself to something disposable, like the “poisoned spray”. This mindset aligns with the toxic inner dialogue shaped by years of neglect and emotional suppression. It was the one thing helping him grow, yet now, he questions whether he deserves it at all.

The Dandelion and Praise: A Fragile Symbol

Returning to the illustration , people might wonder why I selected dandelions as a frame for the selected.. It’s clear that the dandelions aren’t just there for aesthetic balance. Their symbolism is profound. Dandelions are often associated with childhood innocence, wishes, and fleeting moments of beauty, yet they also wither quickly, easily scattered by the wind. In the context of Jinx, they represent a transitory force—something that struggles to take root, much like the intangible and fleeting elements in Kim Dan’s life. But there’s more to it. Before delving into deeper analysis, consider this: what is the common denominator in all these scenes?

Chapter 1Chapter 15Chapter 30Chapter 31



Chapter 40Chapter 43Chapter 56Chapter 62Chapter 66



The answer is compliments. However, here it is important to make a distinction. In most of the selected scenes, the physical therapist is the one getting praised. In the actor’s eyes, he is not only an angel, but also the best. But why did he say that? One might say that Kim Dan offered his services for free. LOL! (chapter 31: I will explain this further below) Besides, the manager is saying that the champion’s performance has improved thanks to his presence. Halmoni is describing her grandson as a diligent and hard-working physical therapist. The nurse expressed a similar praise than the comedian. He is the best! All the support he received was linked to his job as physical therapist. (chapter 37) Therefore it is not surprising that the main lead couldn’t view the members as friends in the end.

Striking is that I picked up three scenes where the “wolf” came to be praised. In chapter 15, for the first time, the doctor voiced his admiration to the athlete: “You were amazing!” to which the champion responded: “Tell me something I don’t know!” But why did he say this? It is because his manager always complimented him for his performance in the ring: (chapter 40) And now, my avid readers can sense a parallel between Joo Jaekyung’s reply and the title of this essay: “Prove me wrong again!”

Hollow Words: The Illusion of Praise

If we examine the praises Kim Dan receives throughout the series, we could see that these nice words never reached Kim Dan’s soul and heart. But why didn’t they help him to boost his ego? Delgado’s second article, Praise That Completely Destroys Children’s Self-Esteem, offers valuable insight into why:

  1. Focus on Ability, Not Effort – Compliments like “You’re the best” or “You have amazing care” (chapter 56) emphasize innate talent rather than the effort he puts in. This means that when he fails, he interprets it as proof that he was never truly capable to begin with.
  2. Exaggeration – The over-the-top gestures, like the coffee truck, feel inflated and insincere. This makes it harder for Kim Dan to genuinely believe in the praise he receives. Besides, there’s no picture of him there.
  3. Pressure, Not Motivation – Instead of building him up , these compliments raise expectations to an unattainable level, reinforcing his belief that he’s a fraud who will inevitably disappoint.

And now, you comprehend how I came to associate dandelion seeds to empty flatteries. The connection between dandelion seeds and hollow praise lies in their fleeting, weightless nature. Just as dandelion seeds are easily carried away by the wind, hollow compliments—those that are vague, exaggerated, or disconnected from genuine effort—disperse without truly taking root in the person they are meant to uplift. They may seem pleasant in the moment, but they fail to provide real nourishment or stability for self-esteem. Hence Potato’s admiration couldn’t move the athlete’s heart and mind: (chapter 41) And now, you comprehend why Joo Jaekyung has always disliked his birthday and the “congratulations” from people in general. The gifts and words were like poisoned praises to his soul. They were pushing him to live like a “god”.

Dandelions are often associated with impermanence, a plant that thrives briefly before its seeds scatter, lost to the wind. Similarly, the praise Kim Dan receives—“You’re the best,” “You’re amazing,”—floats around him but never lands deep enough to strengthen his self-worth. It is momentary validation, gone as quickly as it appears, leaving him feeling just as uncertain and fragile as before.

This is why the illustration places hollow praise within the dandelion blooms—it highlights the transient, superficial nature of these compliments. Instead of fostering deep confidence, they merely swirl around him, reinforcing his feeling of disconnect between others’ perception of him and his own self-image.

That’s how I came to the first following conclusion. Dandelions and photographs serve as opposing symbols in Jinx. The dandelion seeds represent fleeting, empty compliments—words that drift away with the wind, never taking root. Conversely, photographs preserve meaningful moments (chapter 66), cementing their value over time. Unlike dandelion seeds, which scatter meaninglessly, photographs stand for memory, permanence, and proof of (genuine) human connection. (chapter 45) Kim Dan’s only adult photograph, taken with Choi Heesung and Potato, ties into his professional world, reinforcing how his identity has always been defined by what he does rather than who he is. (chapter 59) While this photography was not a personal and intimate picture, it also symbolizes his first root in the little community: Light of Hope Hospice. He is part of the staff and as such of the little town. On the other side, we could say, he is gradually entering the scene as a PT. Note the contrast to the food truck: (chapter 31) There was no picture of “Angel Dan”!! It was, as if the comedian was using doc Dan’s image to promote himself 😮, similar to this scene: (chapter 30) In other words, it exposes the actor’s hypocrisy and wrongdoings. And now, you understand why I wrote genuine in parentheses above [proof of (genuine) human connection]. Photography in Jinx also represents the evidence of wrongdoing (chapter 48) and deception: (chapter 66) This picture is not just the symbol of innocence and joy, it is strongly intertwined with the vanishing of the parents. There is a secret behind this picture. Yet, for Joo Jaekyung’s, it looks like Halmoni was enough for Kim Dan, as she could make him smile once. The photography, the emblem of civilization, can be traced back, and as such exposes the identity of the perpetrators and accomplices: (chapter 46) The exact opposite of the dandelions.

Joo Jaekyung’s act of bringing Kim Dan to the sleep specialist is the embodiment of actions over words. (chapter 66) It is a direct contradiction to the hollow praise doc Dan has received all his life. (chapter 53) He was treasurable, for he did favors to his grandmother all the time. Instead of simply saying that Kim Dan matters, the champion proves it. He challenges the physical therapist’s own perception of himself, demonstrating that he is not just useful—he is precious. Secondly by justifying his action for the doctor’s sake, (chapter 66) he contradicts not only Kim Dan’s self-perception, but also his past accusations: (chapter 66) that he was merely a tool for Joo Jaekyung’s success. By taking him to the sleep specialist, the champion proves something that Kim Dan had refused to see: he matters beyond his utility. This moment mirrors Joo Jaekyung’s past words— (chapter 15) into an action that Kim Dan never expected, an undeniable truth he can no longer ignore. And keep in mind that this reply was linked to doc Dan’s praise concerning his recent fight: (chapter 15) What Joo Jaekyung wants to hear from doc Dan is that he is a good person outside the ring, he wants to be praised for his good actions too. (chapter 62) This shows that deep down, he desires to obtain doc Dan’s gratitude. No wonder why he got so upset after hearing the displeased comment from Kim Dan. (chapter 66)

Moreover, the key chain’s presence in the dressing room (chapter 66) reveals Kim Dan’s elevation in the champion’s life. The dressing room symbolizes privacy and closeness. No longer seen as a mere tool, Kim Dan has become an integral part of Joo Jaekyung’s world, not because of what he can do but because of who he is. (chapter 66) Therefore the champion is holding the expensive gift with his whole hand contrary to the past: (chapter 55) As a conclusion, by bringing him to the sleep specialist, the star proved doc Dan’s words wrong! He told him something that doc Dan didn’t know: he is precious. He needs to pay attention to his health and body.

On the other hand, actions are not enough, in particular for both protagonists. The past words have to be erased, and this can only become effective with encouragement and good compliment. So how should compliments be in order to help the children? For praise to be meaningful, it must be like a deeply rooted plant, not a dandelion seed—grounded in reality, tied to effort rather than ability, and capable of fostering real growth. Moreover, the words have to be specific. Third, the person has to avoid exaggeration and give some motivation, like for example the picture!

The power of words

Mingwa gave us an illustration for a good appreciation: (chapter 66) The champion was praised for doing paperwork. “Good work” was specific, simple and related to an effort. Joo Jaekyung has been patient, diligent and docile in the office. For once, Joo Jaekyung was validated for something outside the ring 😉—something that had nothing to do with his physical strength or his ability to fight. That compliment planted a seed of recognition: his value is not solely tied to his role as a champion. This scene made me laugh because by giving such a flattery, the coach was not realizing that he was pushing his “boy” to take care of administrative tasks. This means that the main lead is destined to become a “white-collar”, a manager!! Kim Dan’s vision should become a reality. (chapter 32) And now, you comprehend why the athlete didn’t fall for Park Namwook’s manipulations afterwards.

When Park Namwook tells Joo Jaekyung, (chapter 66) “I don’t know what you’ve been up to lately…”, it carries an accusatory undertone, subtly suggesting that the champion has been avoiding him. By framing it this way, Park Namwook is not just asking about Joo Jaekyung’s well-being—he is asserting his discontent over losing control. His follow-up suggestion, “Instead of being alone all the time, why not come to the gym?”, reinforces the idea that he sees the gym as a tether, a way to keep Joo Jaekyung within his domain of influence. In addition, he is suggesting that the athlete has been using his injury as an excuse to avoid training. There’s an undertone of doubt and accusation, as if he does not fully believe the champion’s recovery process is valid or necessary. Instead of expressing genuine concern, Park Namwook is subtly framing Joo Jaekyung’s absence as a sign of laziness or avoidance. The small compliment from the manager (“good work”) represents a turning point in the athlete’s life. Park Namwook can no longer treat the athlete like in the past.

But there’s more to it. What caught my attention is that days before, Kim Dan had expressed a huge reproach to the athlete: (chapter 66) This criticism represents the negative version of the manager’s flattery. However, Kim Dan’s words left a huge impact in the champion’s mind and heart for one reason. Through his reproach, he reminded the star that he had a life outside the spotlight and ring. One might say that he was blamed for his bad behavior. Nonetheless his words implied that he viewed the celebrity as an adult, accountable for his actions! Jinx-philes will certainly recall that Park Namwook chastised the celebrity as a spoiled child (chapter 7) (chapter 52) Joo Jaekyung was portrayed as someone with a bad temper and personality. The manager was focusing on the ability, was exaggerating and put pressure on him by using his hand! That’s how it dawned on me why Joo Jaekyung could become resistant to Park Namwook’s short and superficial appreciation. Doc Dan’s harsh words served as an antidote to the manager’s tactics. How so? First, Doc Dan brought up the existence of feelings which Joo Jaekyung has been denying all this time. Then he blamed the champion for his actions and not for his character contrary to the manager!! Therefore he left room for Joo Jaekyung to improve himself. The idiom “always” served as a motivation for the athlete. Here, he could change. That’s why Joo Jaekyung, though hurt and angry, didn’t leave doc Dan’s side. (chapter 65) At the same time, such a disapproval (chapter 64) implies the existence of past hope and expectations. This means that the star has the possibility to revive these buried expectations and hopes by acting differently. By portraying the main lead as a maniac or bad-tempered person, Joo Jaekyung had the impression that he could never change Park Namwook’s perception no matter what he did! The only way to please him was to be in the ring. This was an “immutable truth” which stands in opposition to doc Dan’s criticism (“change”, private life). As you can see, a person can change for the better not because of compliments, but also because of criticisms, a new version of this scene: (chapter 45)

The Impact: A Growing Divide

Striking is that Kim Dan was praised by the protagonist after their first meeting. The champion’s appreciation followed the principles outlined by Delgado: it was specific, effort-based, and motivating. (chapter 1) However, this recognition went completely unnoticed by Kim Dan for three key reasons. First, he was not directly mentioned in the praise, making it difficult for him to associate it with himself. Secondly, Joo Jaekyung didn’t look at him either. Then the star’s phrasing included two negative notions (“not” and “bad”) which subtly diluted the apparent respect behind his words. Rather than perceiving it as validation, Kim Dan likely dismissed it as neutral or indifferent. Finally, it is also important that doc Dan had just made a mistake before (chapter 1), hence his true desire was to run away from that place. For praise to be effective, the recipient must be open to receiving it, either by looking forward to feedback or having expectations of validation. Since Kim Dan was in a state of distress, he was unable to internalize the champion’s words, reinforcing his long-standing belief that he was invisible or unworthy of acknowledgment. That’s how the champion’s praise became a dandelion seed in the end.

Another important detail caught my attention are the grandmother’s praises. (chapter 53) (chapter 61) They are rather inconsistent and conditional. In front of Joo Jaekyung, she commends Kim Dan for his diligence and productivity, emphasizing his value based on his ability to work and fulfill responsibilities. However, when speaking about him in private or when displeased, she reduces him to his supposed vices—calling him a drinker (chapter 65) or a smoker, hiding his sacrifices and the true causes for his struggles. Her words reinforce the idea that Kim Dan is only as good as his usefulness, that love and recognition are earned through labor, not freely given.

With such a mindset imposed on him from childhood, it becomes evident why Kim Dan does not allow himself to take breaks or seek joy for himself. Rest is seen as unearned indulgence rather than a necessity, and self-care is overshadowed by the guilt of not doing enough. His grandmother’s approval was never unconditional; it fluctuated based on how well he served her expectations. This pattern of conditional compliment shaped his self-worth, making him feel unworthy of being cared for unless he was constantly proving himself through actions. What makes this even more striking is that the praise Kim Dan receives from others follows the same pattern as his grandmother’s. Whether it’s his colleagues, the actor, the nurses, or even Park Namwook, their compliments are always tied to his work and productivity—his ability to heal, to endure (chapter 36), or to meet expectations. None of these affirmations recognize him as a person, only as a professional fulfilling a role.

Rather than boosting Kim Dan’s self-esteem, these empty praises widen the gap between how others perceive him and how he sees himself. His inner voice, shaped by years of self-doubt, tells him that he is undeserving of these accolades. Without specific, effort-based recognition, he is unable to recognize his own progress, leaving him trapped in an endless cycle of self-doubt.

A Different Kind of Praise

This is why, as I reflected on these observations, I realized that Joo Jaekyung’s praise must be different. It shouldn’t be about Kim Dan’s work at all. It shouldn’t be another generic statement about how great he is at his job. Instead, it should focus on:

  • Personal Qualities – His resilience, kindness, or courage, rather than his medical skills.
  • Emotional Impact – Expressing how Kim Dan’s presence affects Joo Jaekyung on a deeper level.
  • Small Acts – Noticing the little things Kim Dan does—how he cares, how he listens, how he perseveres.

Joo Jaekyung saying something as simple as “I missed your presence in the penthouse” would mean more than a thousand empty compliments. It would tell Kim Dan that he is wanted as a person, not just needed. That he matters beyond his function as a doctor. This is the type of praise that could truly help Kim Dan break free from his cycle of self-doubt.

And what is the favorite expression which comes to the champion’s mind, when he observes doc Dan’s behavior? (chapter 18) (chapter 45) (chapter 64) (chapter 66) Is this a joke?

Jinx-philes can notice that the champion is associating doc Dan to a JOKE! The problem is that so far the athlete used this idiom in a rather negative context. Kim Dan made the champion smile and laugh! (chapter 40) However, Kim Dan has never realized it. Either he was sleeping or totally out of it (fear of sex) (chapter 27) It is important to recall the importance of the receiver’s mind-set. The latter has to perceive the sincerity from the speaker. Hence I come to the following deduction: The moment Kim Dan notices Joo Jaekyung’s smile and laugh, then he should come to the conclusion that he matters to the protagonist. I would even say, the two protagonists are destined to make each other laugh and smile: (chapter 44) This would be the best “compliment” for both of them. With Kim Dan by his side, Joo Jaekyung desires to make “jokes”. (chapter 61) No wonder why Shin Okja preferred the champion’s company to her own grandson’s. The latter would ooze such negativity and suffering that his presence reinforced her guilty conscience. His grandmother’s mood got spoiled. On the other hand, Mingwa exposed the existence of fake happiness and fun like in this scene: (chapter 58) The friends ignored the main lead’s emotions and struggles. In order to be able to have fun, both main leads must be freed from their past and low self-esteem.

Conclusion: Breaking the Cycle

The title “Prove Me Wrong Again” takes on multiple meanings. On one level, it reflects how Kim Dan’s struggles with self-worth repeatedly override any praise he receives. No matter how much others try to uplift him, his mind tells him otherwise. But on another level, it is a challenge—an opportunity for someone, particularly Joo Jaekyung, to show him that true validation comes from being seen, not just being useful.

Kim Dan does not need grand gestures or overblown words. He needs consistency, sincerity, and reminders that his worth extends beyond his profession. The broken mirror in the illustration reflects the damage done to his self-esteem, but the dandelions? Perhaps they represent the possibility of change—of words that, rather than fading, finally take root. Because the doctor is suffering from depression right now, it is now Joo Jaekyung’s turn to make doc Dan happy, to make him smile and laugh.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: Wheels 🛞 and Waves 🌊〰️- part 1

The title Wheels and Waves – part 1 captures the tension between confinement and freedom, vulnerability and strength, appearances and hidden truths. Finally, readers could see the grandmother leaving the hospice for a stroll. The irony is that she was not accompanied by her grandson or a caretaker, but by the champion himself. (chapter 65) At first glance, the grandmother’s wheelchair and the ocean seem to represent opposing forces, yet they also reveal a complex relationship between power and vulnerability. Thus in this analysis, I will explore how these elements, rather than simply contradicting each other, might actually reflect a struggle to find balance between dependency and independence.

The grandmother’s conversation with Joo Jaekyung by the ocean raises unsettling questions. Her gentle words suggest concern for Kim Dan’s future (chapter 65), yet her portrayal of him seems unexpectedly harsh—emphasizing his flaws (smoking, drinking). (chapter 65) This description stands in opposition to the gumiho’s statement: he was an angel. (chapter 30) It is because Kim Dan didn’t ask for money or recognition, this gesture was entirely selfless. Why would the lady badmouth the protagonist, when she requested from the champion that he brings the doctor back to Seoul? (chapter 65) Is she genuinely worried for him, or is there a hidden motive behind her request to send him back to Seoul? And why does Joo Jaekyung, usually so straightforward, respond with silence and hesitation (chapter 65) or with shock? (chapter 65)

Meanwhile, Kim Dan’s nocturnal walks seem to oppose the grandmother’s immobility. (chapter 65) His bare feet on the cold ground (chapter 65) suggest a longing for freedom, yet the direction of his steps remains uncertain. Whereas these walks reveal about his inner struggle, they don’t reveal the destination of his nightly strolls. Where was he going during that night? Was he going to the ocean—vast and untamed— like in episode 59, (chapter 65) or had his destination changed? These questions will be answered in the second part.

By examining the tension between appearances and reality, the contrast between confinement and escape, I hope to uncover the true nature of sacrifice and survival in the characters’ life. Wheels and Waves invites you to question what it really means to move forward—and at what cost. But let’s start with the interaction between Shin Okja and Joo Jaekyung.

The grandmother and the ocean

Between CREAK, STEP and TAP

First, it is important to realize that the champion was the one who chose the ocean as a destination. The nurse had only planned to walk around the hospice: (chapter 65) This destination reflects the athlete’s desire and mind-set. He likes this place because it is quiet. (chapter 62) From my perspective, the man has now internalized the beach to nature and privacy. Striking is the way Mingwa introduced the scenery. First, she focused on the wheel and Joo Jaekyung’s feet. (chapter 65) The contrast between the creaking wheels of the grandmother’s wheelchair and the steady steps of the champion immediately establishes the theme of control versus freedom. The wheelchair’s wheels represent civilization, immobility, passivity, and the grandmother’s obsession with control—over her own fate (chapter 65) and Kim Dan’s future. In contrast, Joo Jaekyung’s feet symbolize the potential for naturalness, movement and agency (chapter 65), emphasizing his ability to choose and act, even if he is currently unaware of the extent of the grandmother’s manipulation. I will explain further why I see the grandmother’s conversation as a deception. On the other hand, the rhythm of two steps per two creaks reflects how, despite his apparent strength and independence, the champion is unwittingly aligning himself with the grandmother’s pace and will. He is not realizing that he is actually slowing down, an indication that he will getting closer to rest for real this time. Note that he is no longer running and his steps are more “gentle”. We don’t have any TAP TAP TAP anymore, but STEP STEP.

The focus on the wheels and feet also serves as a prelude to the conflicting worldviews of the two characters. While the grandmother’s immobility reflects her fear of facing reality and her reliance on others to push her forward—both literally and metaphorically—Joo Jaekyung’s steps suggest a willingness not only to move forward, but also to impede. Little by little, he is getting closer to the ocean which means that he is about to confront the unknown represented by the ocean. Yet, the irony lies in the fact that despite his steady steps, the champion is the one being emotionally led by the grandmother’s words and direction.

Furthermore, the choice to highlight the wheels and steps before revealing the larger scenery suggests a gradual unveiling of the truth—both about the grandmother’s intentions and the emotional journey that awaits Joo Jaekyung.

“It’s a nice little town, isn’t it”

By choosing the ocean, Joo Jaekyung subconsciously aligns himself with nature, emotions, and freedom—the very things the grandmother seeks to avoid by emphasizing the beauty of the town. (chapter 65) His choice of destination foreshadows a deeper conflict between confinement and escape, between facing the truth and continuing to live under the illusion of control that the grandmother represents. Another relevant detail is the moment Shin Okja praises the town. Observe the position of her head. We don’t see her gaze because of her hat. But since the town is on the right, this signifies that she isn’t truly looking at the town. (chapter 65) In fact, she is just looking ahead of her. The “nice little town” is reduced to the pathway next to the beach. This observation exposes her narrow-mindedness. Because she is not truly admiring the place, I feel like she is praising the town more based on her childhood memories. This explains why she mentions her youth afterwards. Moreover, the fact that she employed the expression “isn’t it” with her description, reveals her tendency to lead the conversation. It was, as if she pushed the young man to agree to her claim. The irony is that she didn’t even wait for his reply. She explained why she was so fond of the place: her childhood memories. In her eyes, because her companion didn‘t spend his youth here, he can not connect to this town, overlooking that people can create new memories anywhere. Moreover, they are not obliged to live in the same town their whole life or to live where they spent their childhood. In other words, this frail lady has no real notion of time as such. I would even say, her gaze is not truly directed in the present or the future, she is rather obsessed with the past.

The grandmother and the beach

But let’s return our attention to this panel. (chapter 65) Here, the ocean dominates the frame, uncontained and powerful, suggesting that the control and order symbolized by civilization are ultimately limited. The receding wharf becomes a metaphor for the boundaries of this control, emphasizing that beyond a certain point, civilization’s reach falters in the face of nature’s raw power. This shift in focus—from the orderly path along the shore to the turbulent waves beyond— accentuates the futility of the grandmother’s obsession with control, medicine, and structured living. But there’s more to it. Mingwa added the onomatopoeia “Whoosh” in order to indicate the presence of wind. The latter is responsible for the “waves”. Funny is that the halmoni is not paying attention to it at all. We could say that the absence of comments about the ocean and wind divulges her blindness and deafness, and the falsehood of her “wish” expressed in the hospital. In addition, this image is announcing the way the conversation will take place. There won’t be any real exchange of thoughts and as such active listening from her part. She will lead the conversation.

This image contrasts so much to the scene with Kim Dan on the beach: (chapter 59) The contrast between these two images—one of the halmoni accompanied by Joo Jaekyung and the other of Kim Dan sitting alone by the ocean—exposes the stark difference in their emotional worlds and the dynamics of control and isolation that define their lives.

In the first image, (chapter 65) the halmoni’s presence with Joo Jaekyung creates an illusion of support and control. (chapter 65) The sunlight high in the sky bathes the scene in brightness, suggesting a façade of warmth and clarity. This lighting aligns with the halmoni’s belief that she can influence Kim Dan through the champion, using Joo Jaekyung as an intermediary to extend her authority. The fact that she is in a wheelchair, however, subtly contradicts this impression of power, revealing her true state of passivity and reliance on others to act on her behalf. The ocean, tamed by the pathway, symbolizes her attempt to domesticate nature— (chapter 65) just as she tries to domesticate Kim Dan’s emotions and decisions. At the same time, it exposes that the champion is still far away from his true self, but he is getting closer to become “reborn”.

In contrast, the second image of Kim Dan alone at sunset paints a completely different picture. (chapter 59) Here, the setting sun hints at the end of the halmoni’s control over his life, casting a melancholic glow that embodies both the beauty and isolation of freedom. Unlike Shin Okja, doc Dan faces the ocean directly, unprotected by railings or pathways, exposing his vulnerability and willingness to confront the unknown—his emotions, his trauma, and his desire for escape. The absence of others highlights his profound loneliness, a loneliness that even the vastness of the ocean cannot fill but seems to reflect. The parasol, standing solitary like Kim Dan, reinforces the sense of isolation amidst an open space. On the other hand, the walk with the grandmother exposes the superficiality of the champion’s connections. He might know many people, but they aren’t his friends or family.

The sound effects further emphasize this dichotomy. The “whoosh” accompanying the halmoni and Joo Jaekyung suggests the wind—a natural element that moves freely despite the artificial path, subtly mocking the halmoni’s illusion of control. Meanwhile, the “shaa” with Kim Dan reflects the waves, raw and untamed, symbolizing the overpowering emotions he battles alone.

Joo Jaekyung’s perception of the halmoni’s influence over Kim Dan is thus an illusion: (chapter 65) the same illusion that the high sun implies. The latter can not shine if there are clouds. (chapter 65) My avid readers know that the latter usually stand for danger. Thus I come to the following deduction: the clouds represent the doctor’s untreated wounds. The champion’s assumption that the halmoni can sway Kim Dan is a misunderstanding of the true nature of Kim Dan’s struggles. While Joo Jaekyung might see the halmoni’s appeals as genuine, I don’t think, he grasped entirely that her words are merely another form of control, one that Kim Dan subconsciously rejects as he continues to seek solace by the ocean, far from the halmoni’s reach. (chapter 59)

In essence, the halmoni’s daytime stroll represents a false clarity and a temporary illusion of control, while Kim Dan’s solitary sunset confrontation with the ocean was foreshadowing a breaking point—an inevitable dusk for the halmoni’s authority and a prelude to a night where Kim Dan chose escape and freedom but at his own life expense.

Another important detail is the way she initiated the conversation. It was about this pretty community and not her grandson. Why? (chapter 65) It is because she is trying to incite the athlete to return to Seoul. He doesn’t belong here. Her statement, “This is where I grew up. But you’re from Seoul, so you probably don’t see what the fuss is about,” dismisses Joo Jaekyung as an outsider while subtly reasserting her authority. Yes, she is using the same MO than with Kim Dan. (chapter 57) By telling him that he had no ties here, she effectively erased their shared past and portraying him as a stranger in the very place she calls home. Thus I deduce that she is aware that she is racing against time. The longer the athlete stays in that place, the lower are the chances that her grandson will leave this town. She has to ensure that Joo Jaekyung doesn’t feel like settling here. I don’t think, she heard about the athlete’s involvement in the little town, for her only source of information comes from the staff (chapter 65) and the residents from the hospice. She has no connection to the town chief and other inhabitants. This exposes how small her world is and little her knowledge is. However, her ignorance doesn’t make her an innocent “lady”, quite the opposite. – Don’t get me wrong, I don’t see her as a malicious person, just as a selfish person suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome.

Let me give you an example. (chapter 65) Here, she claims that she only knows about the sportsman’s job thanks to the patient next door. However, she is lying, because she watched his match in the States. (chapter 41) The irony is that she is not realizing that she is showing her true colors. (chapter 21) In episode 21, the halmoni’s description of the champion as a “good friend” was, in hindsight, a superficial and self-serving characterization. At that time, she likely saw Joo Jaekyung as someone who could be beneficial for Kim Dan’s financial situation without truly caring about who he was as a person. Her interest in him was more about what he represented—a source of money and stability—rather than any genuine appreciation of his character or the impact of his presence in Kim Dan’s life. Thus she said this in front of the ocean: (chapter 65) If he was a good friend, then why didn’t she show more interest in him before? It is because she needs him now. Yes, this woman is a good-weather friend in the end. The term “good-weather friend” refers to someone who shows interest, support, or kindness only when it is convenient for them or when they stand to gain something. Hence she goes outside, when the sun shines. This perfectly encapsulates the grandmother’s attitude towards Joo Jaekyung. But it is the same with the champion. He only visited her, (chapter 61) when he thought, he needed her assistance. He used her to appear as a friend. (chapter 61) Yes, the conversation at the beach played an important role, for Shin Okja’s behavior serves as a distorted mirror to Joo Jaekyung’s actions and mindset, exposing the flaws and contradictions in both. When she voiced this wish (chapter 65), she exposed her belief: money and big hospital are the symbol for care. That’s exactly what the champion had done in the past.

In episode 22, when Joo Jaekyung paid the bills for the halmoni, (chapter 22) he acted out of a simplistic view of good deeds—believing that financial support alone could resolve problems and fulfill his moral obligations. His subsequent failure to visit her again reflects his tendency to distance himself emotionally once he has performed what he sees as his duty. This is reminiscent of his behavior towards Kim Dan: helping him materially but avoiding deeper emotional involvement or responsibility.

Shin Okja’s current behavior mirrors this mindset but in a more manipulative and self-serving manner. Her sudden interest in Joo Jaekyung now that she needs him exposes how she, too, equates support with utility rather than genuine care. She projects a generous and sacrificial image (chapter 65), much like how Joo Jaekyung likely saw himself when paying her bills—believing that fulfilling a material need is equivalent to showing genuine concern. Park Namwook is a representative of this mind-set too.

  1. Transactional Attitude vs. Emotional Avoidance:
    • Shin Okja’s willingness to praise Joo Jaekyung now that she needs him mirrors how the sportsman’s sense of duty stops at financial aid without further emotional involvement. (chapter 45) Both characters avoid deeper emotional connections, opting instead for transactional solutions—she with her manipulations and he with his money.
  2. Superficial Care:
    • Just as the star’s one-time payment was a way to offload guilt without genuine interaction, Shin Okja’s praise (chapter 65) is a way to offload responsibility for doc Dan while maintaining an image of concern. Both display a form of care that lacks true depth.
  3. Avoidance of Accountability:
    • Shin Okja’s deflection of her failures as a guardian (chapter 65) reflects Joo Jaekyung’s reluctance to confront the emotional and mental consequences of the star towards Kim Dan. Besides, Jinx-lovers should keep in their mind that the champion is the owner of the gym. The incident with the switched spray was swept under the rug, just like the drugged beverage. Everyone involved acts, as if nothing had happened or by saying that the doctor was innocent, the witnesses believe that the damages has been repaired. (chapter 62) Both avoid the emotional accountability that comes with their actions, preferring to distance themselves once a material obligation (debts)(chapter 60) is fulfilled.
  4. Perception vs. Reality:
    • The fact that Joo Jaekyung thought he had done a good deed by paying the bills contrasts sharply with Shin Okja’s sudden friendliness, (chapter 65) which is merely a cover for her self-serving motives. This contrast highlights the theme of perception versus reality: both characters’ actions appear kind on the surface but conceal underlying self-interest or emotional avoidance. Yet, there is a difference between them. The champion had sacrificed his time for the doctor, he made sure to keep the elderly woman company so that Kim Dan could rest. Moreover, he had made her happy, that’s the reason why doc Dan was so grateful. (chapter 22)

In this sense, the halmoni serves as a mirror reflecting the champion’s own flaws back at him—his tendency to equate care with material support and his discomfort with emotional intimacy. The paradox here is that while Joo Jaekyung might see the halmoni’s behavior as genuine concern, it is actually a reflection of his own transactional approach to relationships. Recognizing this mirror might be a crucial part of his redemption arc, forcing him to confront the superficiality of his past actions and understand the difference between real care and transactional gestures. However, it is relevant to recall that the star’s past behavior was nurtured by his own surroundings. MFC and the members from Team Black also treated him as a tool for success and money.

So, the mirroring aspect adds a deeper layer to the conflict between civilization (control and superficial care) and nature (authentic emotions and freedom), reinforcing the idea that Joo Jaekyung must break away from this mindset, if he is to truly connect with Kim Dan.

One might think that they are both shallow and selfish. Yet, there exists a huge difference between them. Joo Jaekyung embodies action and he is now embracing changes. Thus he is willing to do anything to improve their relationship, whereas the grandmother is just waiting at the hospice for the “right time” and the “right person”. She is just reacting to an uncomfortable situation than becoming proactive like the champion. She sees the decline of her grandson’s health, but she is reducing it to insomnia which can be treated with pills and a stay at an expensive hospital. (chapter 65) She is not mentioning his loss of weight on the beach contrary to her comment at the hospice. (chapter 57) This displays that she is not entirely honest. She is not reaching out to Kim Dan in the end. Her excuse is that he refused to see a doctor(chapter 65), but so far we never saw her making such a suggestion. It is possible that she jumped to this conclusion because she heard about this incident: (chapter 60) If my assumption is correct, the woman didn’t realize that this rejection was linked to Joo Jaekyung’s intervention. So if she had talked to her grandchild himself, she could have had an impact… But they are actually avoiding each other. One thing is sure: the absence of communication and avoidance between these two family members reinforced the doctor’s suffering. Imagine the consequences of her request: she is preferring locking him up in a hospital receiving drugs than giving what doc Dan has been longing: warmth, love and a home.

Another contradiction is that while she praised the “little town” in the beginning, she was looking down at this place, when she said: (chapter 65) It was, as if she was insulting the hospice where she is staying and as such the staff (which included Kim Dan).

The problem is that the grandmother has long forgotten this day, (chapter 65) where both were happily smiling. The picture is the evidence that she could make Kim Dan smile despite their poverty. Moreover, it is important to recall that she introduced Kim Dan as an orphan from birth: (chapter 65) According to my hypothesis, this image (chapter 19) is linked to the doctor’s abandonment and betrayal. I have to admit that her attitude and words reminded me a lot of the director Choi Gilseok’s offer. (chapter 48). Both the halmoni and Choi Gilseok embody betrayal and the theme of acting behind the back (chapter 48), weaving a web of deception under the guise of care and concern. The halmoni’s betrayal is subtle but profound—she presents herself as a self-sacrificing guardian, but her true motives are revealed through her willingness to entrust Kim Dan to Joo Jaekyung without genuinely considering his well-being. Her criticisms of Kim Dan’s habits, her attempts to send him back to Seoul, and her selective truths paint a picture of a woman more interested in relieving herself of a burden than providing real support. Her actions behind Kim Dan’s back—discussing him negatively with Joo Jaekyung—further emphasize her betrayal, showing a willingness to manipulate perceptions for her own convenience.

Similarly, Choi Gilseok’s offers of lodging, financial help (chapter 48) and superior medical care (chapter 48) mask a deeper betrayal. His real aim was never to assist but to control, using offers of support as bait to tie Kim Dan into a powerless position. The parallel between his proposition to Kim Dan—promising a better life in exchange for leaking information and compliance—and the halmoni’s push for Seoul’s hospitals underlines their shared strategy: make the target believe they have a choice, while the outcome is already decided. The fact that Heo Manwook, who collects Kim Dan’s debts, called Choi Gilseok “hyung” further hints at a deeper conspiracy, suggesting that the offer might have been a tool to ensnare Kim Dan from the start. He would have committed a crime (illegal drugs).

Both characters act behind the scenes, manipulating others to achieve their goals while maintaining an outward appearance of concern. This duplicity can only deepen the sense of betrayal felt by Kim Dan, whose struggle for freedom becomes not just a battle against overt control but also against the subtle, insidious influence of those who pretend to care. Moreover, she broke her promise, but chose to walk to the ocean with the star. It was, as if the grandmother had been ashamed of her own grandson. The halmoni’s and Choi Gilseok’s actions reveal the painful truth that sometimes, the worst betrayals come from those who claim to love and protect. I made this connection for another reason. The director of the gym is actually the one behind the debts and loan. I doubt that Shin Okja would have trusted Heo Manwook for example. It is important, because the loan is the reason why the champion became a target of schemes. But since the doctor refused to abandon his lover, I am convinced that the champion won’t follow Shin Okja’s suggestion.

Moreover, contrary to the grandmother, the star wants the doctor to agree on his own accord. (chapter 62) That’s the reason why he was seeking the grandmother’s support. He was hoping that she could influence him. But what he hears, shocks him: (chapter 65) She desires the same as him, but she is in the same position than him. She is powerless in front of the doctor’s will. It looks like this walk to the ocean was pointless for the champion. However, it is not true, as the athlete got to see a glimpse of the verity in front of the ocean. He is surprised by this request, because unconsciously he senses it as a “betrayal” and “abandonment”. And keep in mind that the ocean represents freedom, the unconscious mind, emotions, death, and the unknown. The wolf was encouraged to perceive the falsehood of his past believes. Moreover, he was incited to question his own past behavior.

Striking is the way both were placed on the beach. (chapter 65) Though they are next to each other, they are not sitting together. The wheelchair represents the invisible barrier between them. This scene contrasts with the conversation in the penthouse. And what had the athlete done during that night? He had not only shared his thoughts and issues to doc Dan, but he had asked for his wish and opinion. (chapter 29) He had even advised to think of himself first. As you can see, the fact that the two characters were just sitting next to each other reinforces my previous interpretation about the conversation. The grandmother was the one who had been leading the conversation, there is no real exchange of thoughts. In episode 29, the champion refused to accept the doctor’s help and suggestion. That’s the reason why I am more than ever convinced that the star won’t listen to the grandmother.

In other words, she was acting like in the past. How so? (chapter 53) She was asking for a favor again, but this time, she was begging for someone else’s generosity. No wonder why she said that she was still the same! (chapter 65) 😉 And what is her MO? She uses pity and vulnerability to her advantage. Since she is so old and weak, she can not do much for her grandson. In other words, she is showing to the celebrity that vulnerability can be a source of strength, that’s how she could turn her grandson into an obedient puppy. However, this can only work, as long as the “target” is listening to his heart and has not developed his own identity and strength. The wheelchair is the symbol for her powerlessness and passivity. Hence she needs the involvement of a third person. The twist is that her wheelchair is the evidence of her dishonesty. How so? She could go to the beach (chapter 53) and watch the ocean with her grandson (chapter 53), but they never did it. Why? One might respond that she refused to do it. (chapter 57) But it is only partially correct. The doctor only suggested this walk to the ocean much later, when he was already suffering emotionally. This means that the grandmother would have not been able to enjoy this walk. Yes, the timing played a huge role. In fact, she confessed her crime to the star: (chapter 53) She never had any intention to spend some time with him. Notice the personal pronoun “we” vanished. It is only about her request: “I wanted to see the ocean”. This means that at the hospital, she never had any intention to keep Kim Dan by her side. She employed the “with you, we” in order to achieve her goal. She acted, as if they were a family. She used her illness for her own advantage. In my opinion, her request was an excuse to avoid to return to the old broken home. For her, home is a place and not a person. Therefore she couldn’t love Kim Dan properly. Her “I’m so sorry” was actually fake. She had only thought of herself… She never thought of her grandson’s future at all. This observation corroborates my previous statement: she is unable to plan for the future. What only matters to her is the past or the present. Why? It is because she doesn’t want to be plagued by remorse or regrets. And now, she is doing it again with the champion. Using emotions and fragility for her own benefits. The paradox is that this is something Joo Jaekyung has always feared his whole life. Nonetheless, he doesn’t react so violently like in the past: rejection or outburst. One might say the reason is that she is weak and terminally ill. (chapter 65) However, I believe that her words reached the champion’s third eye. The latter was not focusing on the grandmother, but on his fated companion. He was trying to understand why he had changed. This question was already on his mind before: (chapter 62) And notice that the words from the grandmother (chapter 65) in front of the water reflects the champion’s intentions: (chapter 62) Once he has achieved his goal (reclaim his champion title), they will depart from each other. He would treat the doctor the same way than the grandmother! No wonder why doc Dan is getting angry and rejecting the offers from his destined partner. IT is only about his own selfish desires and not about doc Dan’s future and desires. Both have a similar mind-set: they don’t know what doc Dan plans to do with his life and the future…. And it shows that Joo Jaekyung was imitating the grandmother, though this suggestion was born from the following thought. Since Doc Dan was no reluctant to work for him, he imagined that maybe he would still accept to work for him for a limited time. But that’s not what Kim Dan is looking. He is longing for a home and at the same time for freedom.

On the other hand, though Shin Okja tried to use the same MO with the celebrity, it is clear that she is destined to fail. Let’s not forget that his private conversation took place outside, in front of the ocean, and the latter represents reflection and unconscious. Hence Joo Jaekyung voiced his hesitation constantly: (chapter 65) (chapter 65) The points of suspension are indicating that he is meditating on her words and suggestions. This stands in opposition to his past behavior where he got manipulated so easily. (chapter 36) The reason for this huge metamorphosis is that because of the lavender-tinted night, he learned to control his emotions. (chapter 65) He was forced to admit that he needed the “hamster”. He knew that if he reacted on these negative emotions, doc Dan would have another reason to put the blame on him. Consequently, his goal would be much further away. Secondly, though the conversation was private, their encounter was far from secretive. Both were visible, as it took place during the day. This means that the grandmother’s words in front of the ocean symbolize that they are in the open. (chapter 65) So they should reach the doctor’s ears. And this observation leads me to my next connection, the grandmother’s deceptions.

Shin Okja’s lies

What caught my attention is this image combined with the grandmother’s claim (chapter 65) According to her, Kim Dan has never introduced her to any of his friends. The celebrity would be the exception! But she is lying here. How so? Joo Jaekyung introduced himself to her on his own. It is because he answered a call from the nurse. (chapter 21) It happened behind doc Dan’s back in the end. The latter was sick, but the old lady didn’t seem concerned. The second lie is this statement which is exposed with the memory: (chapter 65) The panel depicting the halmoni holding an infant Kim Dan offers a complex portrayal of her character—one that blends guilt, self-victimization, and manipulation. Her downcast eyes and the way she cradles the child suggest a mix of regret and weariness, but this expression lacks the warmth expected of a caring guardian. She is not smiling, only feeling pity for the “poor child”. Instead, the scene gives off a performative air, as if she is convincing herself (and, by extension, Joo Jaekyung) that she was indeed a dedicated guardian who did her best. The dark, muted background only deepens this impression, isolating her and the child in a way that hints at unresolved guilt and a lack of genuine affection.

Her words, “I tried my best to raise him, but it was never enough,” carry a double meaning. On one hand, they paint her as a martyr who struggled valiantly despite overwhelming odds. On the other, they imply a subtle judgment of Kim Dan, as if his troubles were a reflection of his own failings (greed) rather than a result of her negligence. The emphasis on “never enough” shifts the focus from Kim Dan’s suffering to her own perceived sacrifices, turning the conversation away from her shortcomings and towards her self-proclaimed burden. This choice of words aligns with her tendency to externalize blame, presenting herself as a victim of circumstances rather than acknowledging her role in Kim Dan’s suffering.

The portrayal of Kim Dan as an infant rather than as the grown man he is now exposes a deeper layer of control. By framing the memory this way, the halmoni preserves her position as the ultimate decision-maker in his life, reinforcing the notion that he is incapable of making his own choices. This imagery ties directly into the theme of Peter Pan Syndrome—the idea that Kim Dan, in her eyes, is perpetually a child who must be protected and guided, even if this means denying him the agency to confront his past and shape his own future. However, this is just a projection of herself. This infantilization serves her interests by keeping him emotionally dependent and by masking her own failings as a guardian.

Moreover, the halmoni’s repeated use of the word “never” (chapter 65) (chapter 65) (chapter 65) is not a mere slip of the tongue but a deliberate linguistic tool to control the narrative. In this context, “never enough” serves a dual purpose: it downplays her own responsibility while subtly casting Kim Dan as a source of endless trouble and dissatisfaction. This manipulation of language highlights a broader pattern in her behavior—her use of selective truths to paint herself as a victim of fate, rather than a participant in the decisions that led to Kim Dan’s suffering. Her words echo the myth she has carefully constructed of herself as the sacrificing grandmother who did everything she could, even as the dark atmosphere of the panel suggests otherwise.

The dark background, devoid of warmth or light, not only isolates the halmoni and Kim Dan but also symbolizes her repressed guilt and closed-off perspective. By presenting herself as the victim of an ungrateful or inherently troubled child (chapter 65), she avoids confronting the real roots of Kim Dan’s suffering—such as the bullying, the debts, and the truth about his parents. For her, it would have been better if he had been raised by his parents. This is what she implied: she could never replace them. (chapter 65) It is important because it exposes her traditional mind-set overlooking that certain parents are unfit guardians. Secondly, with her own words, she legitimated the kids’ bullying. This explicates why she didn’t intervene in the end. What I had interpreted in the past was confirmed in this episode. She represents civilization and as such social norms. Therefore she is a representative of herd mentality. She accepted the kids’ bullying as truth which led to Kim Dan’s isolation. And now, you comprehend why she is not mentioning the harassment from the past. (chapter 65) Here, note that the little boy is wearing the same clothes than in the doctor’s nightmare. (chapter 57) She claims her ignorance why the little boy acted like an adult at such a young age. The reality is that she hasn’t forgotten the incident at all. This explicates why she confessed this to the “wolf”: (chapter 65) And who is to blame for her seclusion? Kim Dan who refused to introduce her to his friends. The irony is that Kim Dan mentioned her to the actor Choi Heesung, (chapter 30) a sign that she was never a source of embarrassment for him. (chapter 65) The truth is that she wanted him to mature quickly so that he could take her burden. (chapter 47) Her refusal to address these deeper issues reveals that her sacrifices were less about genuine care and more about maintaining her self-image as a righteous guardian. (chapter 65) The absence of any visible light or open space in the panel reinforces the idea that her perspective is narrow, unwilling to confront the broader context of Kim Dan’s pain and isolation.

In essence, this panel illustrates how the halmoni’s portrayal of herself as a sacrificing guardian is a carefully crafted narrative. Her use of language, the infantilization of Kim Dan, and the dark visual elements all work together to expose the underlying hypocrisy of her actions. She is not seeing Kim Dan as a man in the end (“sweet boy”). By framing herself as a victim of circumstances, she manages to absolve herself of guilt while keeping Kim Dan emotionally trapped in a narrative of helplessness and dependency. Far from being a scene of genuine regret or love, this moment reveals the true nature of her sacrifices—self-serving acts designed to control the narrative and shift the blame away from her own failures. That’s the reason why she is not bringing up the debts either. Under this light, you comprehend why she portrays Kim Dan in such a negative light: he is a drinker and smoker. (chapter 65) It is because of his personality: he was an orphan and had no real parents to guide him properly. Hence he didn’t listen to her nagging. The irony is that readers never saw her showing concerns about his drinking or smoking habits before. For me, it exposes her passivity and accountability. And what is her MO? She uses the past to justify her request. But the past is no longer valid, for the doctor has grown up. He is no longer smoking for example. She can only use the past, because she stopped living with him. Hence she has no idea how and where he is living right now. She is overlooking that she could have done something: refuse to let him carry the bags or take his hand (chapter 65), talk to him properly and listen to him. But she did not, she used food as a diversion. Walk silently by his side… Like expressed before, this senior stands for secrecy, shame and taboo.

As long as Kim Dan was working and paying off the debts, everything was fine. But now, she is noticing that he is showing signs of illness, but she doesn’t want to feel accountable for that. But there is more to it. In my eyes, Shin Okja never trusted the main lead. It is because of her own lies. She had told him, if he kept working, he would be able to pay off the debts. (chapter 18) What caught my attention in her revelation is her lack of enthusiasm for her own grandson. (chapter 65) “Is he that good?” exposes a lack of faith in her grandchild, a remark which caught the athlete by surprise. For me, he unconsciously sensed this negative aspect. (chapter 65) While this image is actually humorous, the grandmother’s words don’t match her body language. She is not showing any joy or smile. Therefore I comprehend why Kim Dan was so hurt by the champion’s behavior: (chapter 51), the absence of trust because of MONEY! She knew, he was drinking and smoking. Yet according to her, she couldn’t stop him, as she was powerless. He wouldn’t listen to her nagging. But here is the thing. She never asked him why he would act this way. Drinking and smoking were the only things he could allow himself as “fun and diversion”. In her long confession, she is diverting the attention from the causes for this rebellious behavior. Indirectly, she is portraying him as a stubborn boy who can not live on his own. In reality, she is just projecting her own desires and thoughts onto her grandson. For her, the city stands for wealth, fame, success and power. (chapter 65) I am suspecting that deep down, she wants him to shine for her own peace of mind. (chapter 41) Don’t forget that she has been living through him. But Seoul is related to Kim Dan’s suffering: the debts, sexual assault, violence from the loan sharks, the bullying, ,, his “failures” (prostitution, the switched spray), mockery and rejection. So he has nothing there that would draw him back to the city so far. On the other hand, her words imply that the doctor can not lead a good life here (chapter 65), as if there was nothing good in this place. So is this little town nice or not? She is looking down on that place, though she doesn’t realize it.

Captain Hook and his t-shirt

Since the grandmother is suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome, it becomes clear that she views Kim Dan as a lost boy. But she considers the athlete the same way: (chapter 65) Observe that she employed the expression “almost” here. This idiom is even recurrent in her vocabulary (chapter 65) and it is not anodyne. It symbolizes her conditional love and support. That’s why the athlete is almost a grandson. The paradox is that the champion embodies adulthood and as such Captain Hook. That’s why he was racing against time in season 1. Hence he is responsible for the grandmother’s deteriorating health, as the expensive treatment was more an experiment. But here is the thing. Notice what the young man is wearing. (chapter 65) The T-shirt that Joo Jaekyung wears, emblazoned with the words “Peek a Boo” in a spiral pattern, is far from a random detail. Its presence in the scene with the halmoni adds a layer of irony and serves as a visual metaphor for the nature of deception and hidden truths. The game Peek a Boo is typically associated with infants— a playful way for parents to teach children about object permanence, the idea that things continue to exist even when they are out of sight. However, in the context of this scene, it takes on a darker significance, highlighting how the halmoni manipulates what is seen and unseen to maintain control over Kim Dan’s life and, now, over Joo Jaekyung’s perception of the situation.

The spiral arrangement of “Peek a Boo” mirrors the cyclical nature of the grandmother’s manipulation tactics. Much like the game itself, where the face reappears only to disappear again, the halmoni presents selective truths, allowing glimpses of her vulnerability and supposed selflessness while concealing the deeper reality of her motives. This back-and-forth between what is shown (chapter 65) and what is hidden keeps Joo Jaekyung—and even Kim Dan—in a state of uncertainty and guilt, making it difficult for them to see through her facade. The spiral could also represent a descent into deeper layers of deceit and emotional entanglement, suggesting that the more Joo Jaekyung becomes involved, the harder it will be to hide the truth.

On a symbolic level, Peek a Boo ties directly to the halmoni’s treatment of Kim Dan. As a child, Kim Dan was deprived of a real parental figure who could engage with him honestly and lovingly. When he talked the first time, she didn’t reply or smile. His words were met with silence. That’s how he created a negative perception of himself. The halmoni’s refusal to play simple games like Peek a Boo—games that help children develop a sense of identity and emotional security—suggests that Kim Dan’s early emotional needs were systematically neglected. The memories are revealing her passivity and negative thoughts. This absence of genuine interaction is paralleled by her current behavior: her reluctance to openly discuss his past, the bullying, and the truth about his parents. By avoiding such confrontations, she has effectively kept Kim Dan in a state of perpetual insecurity and self-doubt, much like a child who has not yet grasped the concept of object permanence.

Moreover, the game Peek a Boo also involves a degree of deception—the face that disappears and reappears, creating a mix of surprise and relief. This aligns with how the halmoni reveals just enough of the truth to seem trustworthy, while keeping the more damaging parts hidden. Her feigned helplessness and the way she strategically reveals information to Joo Jaekyung—such as her portrayal of Kim Dan’s drinking and smoking habits—are part of a calculated act to elicit sympathy and compliance. By making Kim Dan appear troubled and unreliable, she diverts attention from her own failures as a guardian. Her trust is conditional: (chapter 65) She wants him to follow her request. So what will she do, if he refuses? Moreover, she doesn’t know that the athlete has already created connections with the local inhabitants. The landlord and neighbor has an interest to keep these two young men in that place: he feels less lonely. (chapter 61) Finally, it is important that the athlete never agreed to her “demand” or suggestion. (chapter 65)

Ironically, Joo Jaekyung’s naive acceptance of her words shows that he, too, is caught in this game of Peek a Boo. He believes that by getting through to the halmoni, he can reach Kim Dan’s true feelings, not realizing that the halmoni is using this access to manipulate both of them. The T-shirt becomes a bitter reminder of the gap between appearances and reality—how the champion’s straightforwardness is no match for the halmoni’s subtle control of the narrative.

In essence, the Peek a Boo T-shirt encapsulates the main themes of deception, control, and the struggle to see past appearances. It reflects how the halmoni’s manipulations are not merely a means of survival but a way to maintain her dominance over both Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. Just as in the game, the truth is never fully revealed—only glimpsed in fleeting moments, distorted and reshaped to serve her ends.

Conclusion

This selective blindness extends to her treatment of Kim Dan. She speaks of his smoking and drinking habits with a judgmental tone, implying that his actions are signs of moral failure rather than coping mechanisms for his trauma. Her refusal to address the bullying incident—a pivotal moment in Kim Dan’s life—is part of this broader pattern of denial. If she cannot acknowledge the cause of his suffering, she can continue to frame herself as the sacrificing guardian who did her best. This evasion is also evident in her avoidance of the ocean, a symbol of emotions, danger, and the freedom that she refuses to confront. That’s why her request is doomed to fail. But there is another reason why Shin Okja’s favor won’t be fulfilled. (chapter 65) It is because she doesn’t care about the champion’s mental and emotional well-being. By making such a request, she is pushing him to return to work and as such disregard his mental and emotional issues. Just like Kim Dan, the wolf needs vacancy and rest. He needs to enjoy the present and make good memories so that he can finally sleep properly. Nevertheless, I do see a small change in her, because for the first time, she asked for someone else’s help. Moreover, she is mentioning her death (chapter 65), a sign that she is gradually accepting her mortality. On the other hand, her statement “I’ll go, when my time comes” is linking walk with death, But here, she is not walking, she is using the wheelchair! This means that as long as she is not walking, she won’t die. It is her effort to push away the inevitable. She is giving the impression that she has control over her life, but deep down, she knows that she is powerless. Therefore I perceive her final words as a deception as well. But there’s more to it. The fact that she is expressing her fear that her grandson might die before her is exposing her fear of responsibility. I would even say, her words imply that she has already witnessed the suicidal tendencies of a person in the past (that would be the parent). That’s why she suggested to the owner of Team Black to send him to a huge hospital and drugs (confinement).

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Tumblr-Twitter account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: Fickle Jinx 🐈‍⬛, Faded Past

Introduction: The Evolution of the Jinx

Joo Jaekyung’s perception of his ‘jinx’ has undergone a significant transformation since the beginning of Jinx. Initially, he believed that his routine (chapter 2) —having sex the night before a match—was a necessary ritual to maintain his champion title. However, by Episode 62, his view of the jinx had subtly shifted. (chapter 62) He now includes his entire routine with Kim Dan—not just sex, but also his physical therapy and treatment—as part of this so-called jinx. This shift is crucial because it implies an unconscious recognition of Kim Dan’s significance in his life. What once was purely about his career and success has now expanded to include a specific person and their role in his well-being.

Kim Dan, however, misinterprets Jaekyung’s words. First, the athlete employed the expression “usual pre-match routine” which is quite ambiguous. What was he referring to “usual pre-match routine”? The sex or the treatment he was receiving from Kim Dan: the tasty breakfasts, his company on his way to the gym (chapter 46), the stretching and massage at the gym? The problem is that the champion never complimented the “hamster” for his good work directly. So it was, as if his dedication was nonexistent. Without the champion’s genuine gratitude and appreciation expressed so openly, the physical therapist couldn’t perceive the true message behind the champion’s. Joo Jaekyung’s statement was actually an acknowledgment—a sign that the fighter values their routine, not just for performance but as an integral part of his life. So when the star mentioned his jinx (chapter 62), the doctor’s memory got triggered. Because of his past experiences, he has long associated the jinx exclusively with sex. This contrast in understanding highlights both Jaekyung’s lack of self-awareness and Kim Dan’s tendency to filter reality through his own expectations and trauma. However, the deeper significance lies in Jaekyung’s evolving perception of dependency. His jinx is no longer just a superstition tied to his performance in bed. It now subtly acknowledges that his success has been intertwined with Kim Dan’s intervention. (chapter 62). At the same time, his skills in the ring become more relevant. This explicates why the champion talked about it on the treatment table. The location is not anodyne. This implies that the champion’s torment is moving away from the bed and bedroom. This is not the first time the celebrity has recognized Kim Dan’s good work (chapter 61) By entrusting his care to Kim Dan, he was insinuating that the main lead was trustworthy and competent, yet his inability to verbally express appreciation keeps the doctor unaware of his true feelings. This struggle resurfaced in front of the hospice, where Jaekyung could only bring himself to admit that Kim Dan was not responsible for the incident with the switched spray. (chapter 62) His reluctance to openly acknowledge his gratitude suggests a deeper internal conflict—one that hints at a growing but unspoken emotional reliance on Kim Dan. 

Another cause for this inner struggle stems from his difficulty to separate his professional and personal life. While he continues to frame his reliance on Kim Dan as part of his career routine (chapter 62), his subconscious attachment tells a different story. The jinx, once strictly confined to his fights, has now extended beyond the ring, blurring the lines between necessity and emotional dependency. His hesitation to verbalize his appreciation reveals a man grappling with an unfamiliar vulnerability—one that he may not yet be ready to confront. 

The champion’s past: fixed foundation or distorted memory?

As you know, articles from Dr. Jennifer Delgado often assist me to grasp better the couple’s personality and issues. Funny is that her articles often coincide with the progression of Jinx. In her recent article, You Are Not Your Experiences, the author explains how people often mistakenly identify themselves with their past experiences, believing that their traumas, failures, or successes define who they are. She argues that while past experiences shape our perspectives, they do not have to dictate our future choices.

This means that people need to break free from their past. However, in order to achieve this goal, they have to recognize past experiences as a reference rather than a destiny—something to learn from, but not something that confines personal growth.

Emotional Traps: Fear and Avoidance

One of the most common ways people become trapped by their past is through fear-driven decision-making. Those who have faced failures, disappointments, or trauma may avoid opportunities for change out of fear of repeating past mistakes. This avoidance does not create true freedom but rather reinforces a cycle of limitation.

Conversely, others may become so deeply attached to their past choices that they justify and cling to them, believing that changing direction would undermine their previous efforts. This mindset prevents self-reflection and the possibility of meaningful transformation.

The Power of Choice

True autonomy comes from self-awareness and intentional decision-making. Instead of reacting based on past fears or past justifications, individuals can reclaim control over their future by making choices that align with their present values and aspirations. The ability to consciously choose a path forward, rather than following patterns dictated by past experiences, is what ultimately leads to growth, fulfillment, and personal freedom. I am quite certain that my avid readers could recognize the main characters in these descriptions. It becomes obvious that Joo Jaekyung belongs to the second category. His perspective on time is one of continuity and justification. He sees the past as an unchangeable foundation (chapter 62) that naturally determines the future, a mindset that enables him to move forward without regret. Hence he is sure that he will regain his title and can separate ways with Kim Dan. (chapter 62) It was, as if he was warding off bad luck by repeating the last match. For him, past choices are justified by their results—he has built a successful career through sheer discipline and sees no reason to question his trajectory. His mentality reflects the belief that one’s past is a stable structure upon which the present and future rest. This perception explains his resistance to self-reflection and emotional vulnerability; admitting a mistake would mean disrupting the stability he relies upon.

His refusal to listen to emotional advice, especially concerning Kim Dan’s well-being, can be traced back to his survival-driven upbringing (chapter 54), where emotions were likely dismissed as obstacles. Instead, he follows only what aligns with his success: the advice of figures like Park Namwook and Yosep, who reinforce his pre-existing beliefs about strength, control, and endurance. Hence he was pushed to fight despite his ankle injury. (chapter 50)

However, as recent events unfold, his foundation is beginning to show cracks—particularly with Kim Dan’s absence, forcing him into a state of emotional confrontation that he has never encountered before. His departure made him feel not only lonely, but also cold and stressed. And because his past determines his future, it signifies that Joo Jaekyung is caught in a cycle where his past successes and struggles dictate his present mindset. (chapter 61) This rigid perception prevents him from questioning his past choices or embracing change, reinforcing the illusion that repeating past patterns will restore stability. However, as his reliance on Kim Dan grows, the boundaries between his personal and professional life blur, challenging his belief that he can control his future by clinging to his past.  (chapter 61)

But what happens when the past is not remembered correctly? When Jaekyung convinces himself that everything was fine before his tie with Baek Junmin (chapter 62), he is unknowingly rewriting his own history. This distortion is further reinforced by external voices —MFC (chapter 57) and Park Namwook (chapter 54), who claim that Jaekyung ‘lost’ the fight, when in reality, it was a tie. The very way people around him are framing the event warps his perception, creating a false narrative where his struggles seem to stem solely from this supposed ‘loss.’ His belief in a stable past provides him with a sense of security, but that illusion is fragile. In addition, if his struggles predated his championship loss (chapter 29), then reclaiming his title cannot be the solution he believes it to be. Finally, what happens when he is forced to confront the reality that some of his past choices were mistakes – ones that he can no longer attribute to the jinx or external circumstances, (chapter 13) because they affected the doctor’s life? (chapter 41) In one case, he refused to listen to his friend’s advice, whereas he trusted the words from MFC, MFC doctors and his hyung. When the foundation he has relied upon begins to crack, Jaekyung’s entire mindset is shaken, forcing him to question whether his past truly holds the answers he seeks. We could say, the athlete needs to be betrayed by his own past in order to throw his old belief. The latter is strongly intertwined with the organization MFC and authorities in general. Questioning his past equals challenging the company MFC and his past “guardians”: the terrifying ghost and even his two hyungs.

As my avid Jinx-philes can sense, the champion is actually going through a similar path than his lover. Joo Jaekyung has a distorted perception of his past. In Episode 61 (chapter 61), he expresses the belief that reclaiming his championship title will rid him of his headaches, nightmares, and sleepless nights. However, the reality is different—he was already suffering from insomnia long before he lost his title. (chapter 29) The origins of his struggles existed before his recent failures, suggesting that his belief in a simple solution—reclaiming his title—is an illusion. This disconnect reveals how deeply his professional and personal life are entangled; his need for control in the ring has masked his deeper emotional vulnerabilities. He isn’t merely striving for victory—he is chasing the illusion of stability, believing that his success is the sole factor that determines his well-being. (chapter 54) But as his nightmares and frustration intensified, it becomes clear that his problem is not the loss of his title, but the erosion of the identity he has built upon it. This means that the longer he stays away from the gym, the more the fighter is learning about himself. He is more than just a MMA champion. To conclude, he is on his way to redefine himself, to discover his humanity.

  • The very fact that he associates (chapter 61) the headache and nightmares only with his loss suggests that he has rewritten his own history, convincing himself that he was completely fine before his tie with The Shotgun.
  • This distortion reflects his habit of suppressing personal struggles—a conditioned mindset that prioritizes his image and career over his mental and emotional well-being.
  • His unconscious rewriting of events serves a psychological function: blaming the championship loss allows him to avoid deeper introspection. Under this new light, you comprehend why he is not investigating the matter with the switched spray and the rigged game.

This pattern extends to his changing interpretation of the jinx. Originally, his pre-match ritual was about control. It was a way to ensure consistency and maintain a sense of power over his performance. However, by integrating Kim Dan into this ritual, he unknowingly shifts its meaning—it is no longer solely about control, but also about dependence. But there is more to it. The moment you contrast this recollection and belief (chapter 61) with the champion’s rejection in the bedroom with this excuse (chapter 29), you will realize that alone in his penthouse, Joo Jaekyung was actually admitting the importance of sleep and rest. His earlier belief in relentless training as the key to success now clashes with his realization that exhaustion is affecting him. This shift signifies an unconscious admission that his well-being is not just tied to physical endurance but also to recovery and relaxation—something he previously dismissed. This realization subtly parallels his growing dependence on Kim Dan, reinforcing the theme of blurring lines between his professional and personal life. And what had occurred after this magical blue night in the penthouse? (chapter 30) The athlete woke up later than usual. In fact, he was rather late, for he was still wearing his pajamas, while the doctor had already taken his shower. But back then, observe how he opened the door! Like a clumsy beast, grump leopard! Why? In the past, I explained that he was seeking the champion’s closeness, but didn’t know how to approach his partner. I am now adding another aspect. He was actually annoyed, because he had not been following his daily routine!! Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the champion had such a “angry” facial expression, while deep down he was happy. The older version of this scene: (chapter 44) However, this means that in episode 30, he never acknowledged his dependency on the physical therapist for his rest loudly. On the other hand, it explains why the champion felt threatened, when the actor approached his “lavender-tinted pillow” or “sleeping pill”. (chapter 31) In fact, he used guilt to create a link between him and his roommate. That’s the reason why I am more than ever convinced that the champion will sleep better after this lavender-tinted night. (chapter 63) But contrary to the past, the athlete should come to recognize his lover’s great sleeping power officially. This made me laugh, imagining Kim Dan’s reaction, when the latter sees that his wish (chapter 62) won’t come true at all. 😉 He will stay longer and ask for Kim Dan’s presence during the night.

Kim Dan: The Past as a Lesson to Escape

Dr. Jennifer Delgado’s assertion that the past should be a reference, not a destiny directly applies to Kim Dan. Although the physical therapist believes he is actively shaping his future by rejecting his past, in reality, his decisions are still dictated by fear—fear of repeating past mistakes, fear of attachment, and ultimately, fear of abandonment. He belongs to the first case described above. He regrets to have developed feelings for the champion, therefore he wants to relive their first night together. (chapter 62)

Fear and Avoidance Dictate His Choices

Rather than truly choosing his future, Kim Dan structures his life around avoiding his past. (chapter 56) His childhood and early adult experiences, marked by financial hardship, emotional neglect, abandonment, betrayal and powerlessness, have conditioned him to associate attachment with suffering. Because of this, he withdraws from relationships (chapter 56) and opportunities that could offer him security, convincing himself that he is protecting his independence when, in truth, he is reacting to past trauma rather than making an intentional choice.

This aligns with Delgado’s concept of emotional traps, where individuals believe they are exercising free will when they are actually making fear-based decisions that keep them stuck. Kim Dan’s reluctance to let Jaekyung back into his life is not just about his personal preferences—it is an extension of his attempt to escape a future that resembles his painful past. (chapter 46) (chapter 46)

The Illusion of Control: Running Instead of Choosing

Delgado emphasizes that true freedom comes from conscious decision-making, not reactionary avoidance. Kim Dan, however, has yet to reach this level of autonomy. By pushing people away, he believes he is exercising control over his life—but in reality, his choices are being made for him by his unresolved fears. He resembles a lot to the athlete in season 1. He is not moving toward something new; he is merely fleeing from what once hurt him. This means that he is imitating his grandmother as well. And now you comprehend why both liked each other immediately. Both could recognize in each other. But living like his halmoni has terrible consequences, for unhealed wounds of the mind fester beneath the surface, seeping into the body like cracks spreading through glass—until even the strongest foundation begins to break. (chapter 19) She became terribly sick, while the other had to get surged and risked his career. There is no doubt that the halmoni is hiding her pain as well. Kim Dan’s declining physical and emotional state further reflects the consequences of living in avoidance. (chapter 61) He is endangering his life. Instead of taking action to improve his well-being, he isolates himself, refusing help even when it is necessary. His reluctance to accept care—be it medical, emotional, or relational—mirrors the very trap Delgado describes: mistaking survival for true agency.

The Turning Point: Breaking Free from the Past

For Kim Dan to truly reclaim his future, he must stop defining himself by what he is running from and start choosing based on what he genuinely wants. Someone needs to remind him of these feelings: (chapter 62) If he continues making decisions based on past fears, he will remain trapped in the same cycle, unable to experience true growth or emotional fulfillment.

Delgado’s article suggests that the key to breaking free lies in self-awareness—Kim Dan must first recognize that his past does not define him before he can truly take control of his life. That’s the reason why I perceive the doctor’s suggestion in a positive light: (chapter 62) Here, he is actually facing his past which he has strongly connected to regret and remorse. Don’t forget that after this night, he is expecting Joo Jaekyung’s departure. (chapter 62) That way, he can move on. But what the “hamster” fails to recognize is that the Jinx was brought up in a different location. (chapter 62) Unlike in the past, this conversation takes place in the living room indicating transition from transactional interactions to genuine connection. Unlike the bedroom (chapter 3), which has been the setting of power imbalances, physical dominance, and silence, the living room represents a shared space—a place where dialogue and openness can exist. But why is the bedroom linked to silence? It is because of the TV, the third invisible companion! (chapter 48) Hence during that night, none of the protagonists talked sincerely to each other. And now pay attention to the living room at the hostel: (chapter 62) The TV is not switched on!! That’s how it dawned on me why Mingwa made Joo Jaekyung live alone for a while. (chapter 54) He needed to get rid of this poor habit: watching TV or cellphone. He had to realize that the TV or cellphones were never real companions and never brought him peace of mind! This was the invisible “love” triangle. Back then, the athlete deceived himself by thinking that he was truly self-reliant, while in verity he was dependent on his cellphone and the TV.

In Episode 62, (chapter 62) the shift to the living room for their conversation about the jinx is significant because it suggests that Jaekyung and Kim Dan’s relationship is evolving beyond purely physical interactions. The living room is typically associated with comfort, social interaction, and daily life, meaning that their dynamic is subtly moving towards something less confined, more integrated into reality. Jaekyung and Kim Dan are neither strangers nor true partners, and the living room reflects this in-between state of their relationship.

For Jaekyung, this space signifies a growing familiarity and trust, as he now acknowledges Kim Dan’s presence in his routine beyond sex. For Kim Dan, however, it is still a space of unease—his perception of their relationship remains tied to his initial trauma, making it difficult for him to see the fighter’s shift in behavior.

Secondly, I would like Jinx-philes to compare Joo Jaekyung’s behavior on the treatment table between episode 62 and the previous scenes where patients received Kim Dan’s treatment:

ChapTER 1Chapter 27Chapter 34Chapter 37Chapter 43Chapter 61

Kim Dan doesn’t talk to his patients in general, unless he feels that it is necessary. In addition, all his comments were work-related. His silence is oozing indifference and neglect. This observation exposes his lack of professionalism. Thus no patient is chatting with him and thanking him for his good treatment. On the other hand, thanks to Joo Jaekyung, the “hamster” is also learning not to get too attached to his “patients” as well. A natural distance is still required. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Kim Dan doesn’t feel his job as physical therapist not rewarding and why he felt differently in the past. (chapter 62) Right now, he is not receiving any compliment from his patients, for he is acting like a robot. However with the gym, it was different, for he felt recognized by members from Team Black. They would give him some positive feedback. (chapter 37) And all this started because Kim Dan had taken the initiative. (chapter 7) But now, it is no longer fulfilling for him, because his relationship with them didn’t go beyond their work.

So by relocating the champion’s new confession to the living room (chapter 62), Mingwa is announcing a change in their relationship. The living room acts as a threshold—a place between past and future, where the lines between professional and personal, dominance and dependence, jinx and reality begin to blur. (chapter 03) At the same time, I am also sensing that the treatment table could become the place where Kim Dan starts initiating conversations with his patients so that he can become an active listener and advisor.

To conclude, this confession marks a turning point not only for the champion, but also for the doctor. Both affect each other. Though Kim Dan didn’t grasp that Joo Jaekyung was emphasizing his role in his overall routine, I am quite certain that unconsciously, the “hamster” learned a lesson: the importance of listening and conversing with his patient. Let’s not forget that too focused on his own guilt due to his past trauma, he came to hurt one of his patients. (chapter 59) Striking is that here the doctor didn’t apologize to the elderly man, but only to the family. (chapter 59)

While Joo Jaekyung now sees Kim Dan’s care as part of what sustains him, even if he does not consciously acknowledge it as emotional attachment, the champion is not realizing that life is about to teach him a lesson. Past can not be a source of strength, but of torment, pushing him to throw over the board his belief about the past and jinx. (chapter 62) While he focused too much on his “loss”, he overlooked the importance of the incident with the switched spray on the doctor’s soul. Only through his conversation, he recalled his initial reaction (chapter 62) – which is quite understandable in my eyes. The ones who failed the couple were the two other hyungs from my perspective. The past affected the doctor so much that he views himself and his feelings as “trash” now, yet it is clear that neither Park Namwook nor the coach are suffering from guilt or remorse. The star’s follow-up statement, (chapter 62) further reinforces that Kim Dan has become an integral part of his preparation. Although Jaekyung does not yet frame this as emotional reliance, his words betray an unconscious attachment—one that Kim Dan himself does not recognize. Moreover, by including him in his jinx, the champion is only one step closer to include him in his “success”. Should the doctor be the target of malicious comments, the star will consider it as a personal assault or as his responsibility.

The Ghosts That Surface in Absence

A striking aspect of Jaekyung’s evolution is the way his subconscious reacted to Kim Dan’s absence. (chapter 54) The moment Kim Dan left, nightmares came to the surface The ghosts of his past—his insomnia, his unresolved emotions, his hidden fears—made its entrance revealing that the champion had a false perception of his own past. It was, as if he had erased his time before becoming the champion. This suggests that Kim Dan’s presence was acting as a stabilizing force, even if Jaekyung was unaware of it. He had become his “home”, which Joo Jaekyung forgot due to his intoxication. (chapter 43) Someone needs to remind the athlete of his own “statement”. Simultaneously, since the doctor never got curious about the fighter’s past and family, his presence could only be seen as a bandage covering a rotten body. In order to heal completely, he needs to expose his traumatic past and vulnerabilities.

This aligns with his distorted memory (chapter 61)—he tried to convince himself that everything would return to normal once he regained his title. However, reality proves otherwise:

  • The insomnia that he attributed to his championship loss existed in the past. Thus if the sportsman doesn’t change his life style, his sleeping problems should still be present after the recovery of his title.
  • The emptiness in his life remains, unaffected by his standing in the MMA world.
  • His frustration and irritability increased, indicating that his struggles were never truly about the title (chapter 56), but about something deeper. Here he felt the need to see his beloved “companion” again.
  • His instinctive blaming of Kim Dan at first is a defense mechanism—an attempt to deny that his life had already changed far more than he was willing to admit.

To conclude, as long as the champion doesn’t expose his past relationship with Baek Junmin and his childhood to Kim Dan, the athlete can not find inner peace and become his true self.

A New Kind of Jinx: The Unconscious Shift in Priorities

At the beginning of Jinx, Jaekyung’s only goal was to maintain his championship title. His ‘jinx’ was a superstition, a tool to reinforce his absolute focus on his career. However, by Episode 62, the nature of this jinx has evolved. (chapter 62)

  • It is no longer just about winning—it now includes a person.
  • By extending the jinx to include Kim Dan’s role in his routine, Jaekyung unconsciously acknowledges that his well-being is tied to someone outside himself. He was dropping his past conviction: self-reliance. This explicates why during the same episode, he was seen helping others in the village.
  • This suggests a new, hidden priority—a source of stability that extends beyond his career.

Whether Joo Jaekung realizes it or not, Kim Dan is now part of his happiness, even if the fighter has yet to define it that way. And if you contrast this to his previous definition of well-being, you will notice that it was defined by the absence of physical and mental pain. (chapter 61) We could summarize his statement with “peace of mind” which is a synonym for “happiness”. This confirms my previous interpretation that in the past, his abuse towards his own body was his way to express his emotional and mental suffering. (chapter 27) At the same time, this confession displays that his past was far from being perfect, the evidence of a distorted memory. After working so hard for the community, he came to receive a treatment from Kim Dan: (chapter 62) This means that he is now treasuring his own body. No wonder why he smiled. (chapter 62) That’s why I come to the following conclusion: The athlete must have felt happy in the living room, for he felt comfortable and safe. (chapter 62) But why did he show his back? One might say that he desired to hide his “satisfaction” and his “reliance” on his fated partner. Or he didn’t feel the need to watch the doctor’s facial reaction, when he would confide his new intentions and the transformation of his jinx. He didn’t expect the physical therapist to mock him for his absurd belief contrary to episode 2: (chapter 2) He trusted the doctor. Yet, in my opinion, there exists a bigger reason behind this change. It is related to his manager: The doctor is treating the star (chapter 62) where Park Namwook used to punish him physically. He is receiving his “sweet” and “reward”. Thus I interpret the sportsman’s admission in the living room as the moment where the manager is losing his influence over the champion. On the other hand, it is clear that the athlete has not realized it yet. Through the massage, the doctor is recognizing that the champion worked hard in his life.

The Convergence: A Future Defined by Choice, Not Circumstance

The irony in their opposing perceptions of time is that they both remain equally bound by their pasts—Jaekyung by his refusal to question it, and Kim Dan by his refusal to acknowledge its lingering control. However, the unfolding of their relationship is gradually pushing both toward transformation. Jaekyung, for the first time, is being forced to fight for something that is not guaranteed by his status, money or power, and Kim Dan is being forced to recognize that fear-based decisions are not true freedom.

Park Namwook exhibits a mindset similar to Jaekyung, where the past dictates his present and future actions. Unlike Jaekyung, however, he is entirely reliant on the champion’s success, living vicariously through him. He positions himself as a figure of authority, even claiming to be the gym owner (chapter 22) when he is not, using his seniority and past influence to assert dominance. His attitude is related to his past decision: from his perspective, he saved the athlete from turning into a criminal. (chapter 26) His dependence on Jaekyung’s achievements makes him resistant to any shift in the fighter’s trajectory (chapter 40), as it threatens his own stability. Rather than acknowledging change, he reacts negatively to it and shifts blame onto Jaekyung, avoiding responsibility for his own shortcomings.

Park Namwook’s reaction to Kim Dan’s presence highlights his discomfort with anything that disrupts his established control. He loves delegating tasks to others. He initially praised Kim Dan’s skills (chapter 43), but when confronted with a serious incident, he failed to take responsibility or make a decisive choice (chapter 50), allowing others to step in instead. Later, rather than addressing his inaction, (chapter 52) he deflected blame onto Jaekyung, holding him accountable for his own passivity and incompetence. Instead of facing the consequences of past mistakes, the coach and manager prefers to erase them entirely, bringing in a new physical therapist (chapter 53), as if the past never happened. By doing so, he reinforces Jaekyung’s belief in his so-called ‘jinx,’ manipulating the fighter’s perception of events and contributing to a distorted memory of reality. Meanwhile, the manager must face the reality that change is inevitable and that Jaekyung’s evolution does not mean his own irrelevance. However, his position must change.

Thus I am still expecting that the doctor will fall very sick. All of these men can not act, as if the past was like the future. They are not immortal. Kim Dan’s worsening condition would force the couple to reconsider their perceptions of time—Jaekyung in terms of regret, and Kim Dan in terms of embracing a future not defined by resignation and fear. I would even add that so far, the doctor has never confessed to the champion that he feels his life jinxed as well. (chapter 59)

The Fickle Nature of Jinx and the Power to Reclaim the Future

And now, you are wondering why I chose to focus on chapter 62 again, where I examined chapter 63 only one time. My reasoning is the following. In season 1, after his first night with Kim Dan, Joo Jaekyung made a terrific experience. (chapter 5) He felt so empowered that he won very quickly. (chapter 5) But this good vibe was attributed to the sex with Kim Dan and unfortunately linked to his match. The reality was that he had slept better and longer. So by recreating the past, Kim Dan places the athlete in front of a choice. What matters in his life? His title or his peace of mind? He is correcting the champion’s distorted memory. Kim Dan is the reason why he can rest properly and not the title. Don’t forget that he was suggesting to go separate ways during the massage. But if he sleeps better before gaining his title, he won’t feel the urge to return quickly to the ring. In the living room, he was still acting as the celebrity, but in the bed chamber he is now gradually pushed to leave his title out of the bedroom. Now, in the bedroom he becomes a man and can almost make a mistake as a lover. (chapter 63)

This analysis Fickle Jinx, Faded Past, encapsulates not only the essence of this transformation, but also outlines the existence of a crossroad. A jinx is something unpredictable, unstable—like Jaekyung’s belief in controlling his own path without interference. But just as a jinx can turn against its owner, his sense of certainty is now in flux. At the same time, relying on a certain person signifies taking a leap of faith. He is taking a new road. Meanwhile, Kim Dan’s faded past represents his attempt to erase what has shaped him, but fading does not mean disappearing—it lingers, influencing every step he takes. He can not erase the death of the poor puppy: (chapter 59) However, he needs to realize that his physical and mental recovery can only happen, if he truly wishes it. From my perspective, the doctor has to sense that he is not on his own, he has someone by his side who supports him emotionally and mentally.

Ultimately, both must reach a point where their decisions are no longer dictated by their pasts but by conscious choice. They need to recognize that freedom does not come from escaping the past or justifying it, but from choosing to move beyond it. However, this can only happen, when both meditate and become true to themselves. At the same time, both must become more curious about their partner and past life. Only then, they will be able to listen to each other and understand each other.

PS: I am still waiting for a confession outside, close to nature: in the woods and in front of the ocean.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Tumblr-Twitter account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Fault in His Powerful Hands 👊

At the hospice, Joo Jaekyung admitted to Kim Dan that he was not the one responsible for the incident with the switched spray. (chapter 60) However, this revelation sheds light on a deeper issue: his unquestioned reliance on the spray over Kim Dan’s expertise. (chapter 49) This choice reflects a significant lack of trust. Even with Kim Dan as his physical therapist, someone who had already proven his skills by treating his shoulder in record time (chapter 49), Joo Jaekyung chose to rely on external medicine rather than the “power of hands” that the nurse in the hospice later praises. (chapter 56)

The Misplaced Trust in Medication

This decision is revealing. (chapter 56) Here, the nurse credits Kim Dan’s care with improving the quality of life for terminally ill patients, emphasizing the tangible results of his dedication and skill. Yet, Joo Jaekyung disregards these same qualities. Instead of trusting Kim Dan, he justified his choice with the belief that the PT “wasn’t doing his job right,” a sentiment captured in his internal monologue. (chapter 55) But why was he thinking like that? He came to this judgement for two reasons. On the one hand, he was recalling the physical therapist’s nightly desertions. The latter chose to work as a courier instead of focusing on his main job. Moreover, the fact that he hadn’t checked the spray right before using it (chapter 51) This explains why the athlete imagined that Kim Dan had resigned due to his mistake. (chapter 55) However, this assumption is not only incorrect but unjust, as Kim Dan’s quick and effective treatment of his shoulder clearly demonstrates the contrary. (chapter 49) He felt no pain in his shoulder, a sign that he had been able to recover. Moreover, keep in mind what the other PT said in episode 42: (chapter 42) Finally, note that Baek Junmin was not able to defeat the dragon despite targeting his fragile shoulder. (chapter 50) The match ended up as a tie.

Kim Dan’s Hands and Regrets

The author’s focus on Kim Dan’s hands in the panel (chapter 60) where Joo Jaekyung admits his past ignorance adds a layer of emotional depth. The close-up of Kim Dan’s hands, slowly clenching, illustrates the complex mix of emotions he is experiencing in that moment. While the champion acknowledges his mistake, the tension in Kim Dan’s hands suggests a blend of guilt, frustration, and even resentment. This visual choice underscores the weight of the emotional burden Kim Dan carries—a burden made heavier by Joo Jaekyung’s previous accusations (chapter 60) and his failure to shield Kim Dan from blame. The clenched hands symbolize the internal struggle between an internal conflict between anger, indifference and lingering hurt caused by the lack of trust. What caught my attention is the sound of his jaw, KRIK, which reminded me of the star’s behavior. (chapter 56) This jaw’s movement symbolizes the return of instincts and as such to the champion’s true nature: he is a wolf. This means that the doctor is gradually losing his gentle nature and is on the verge of becoming a “wolf”. No wonder why he mimicked like the athlete at the end of episode 60: (chapter 60) He is acting like a loner wolf, whereas in reality his true personality is a hamster and duck.

Another panel, showing Kim Dan looking at his reflection and lamenting, indicates that this regret is beginning to fester. While he has not yet voiced these thoughts directly to Joo Jaekyung, the flinching hands (chapter 60) highlight the start of a growing resent. Thus I deduce that the self-directed blame could eventually shift outward, as Kim Dan begins to connect Joo Jaekyung’s role in the decision to use the spray. These subtle visual and narrative cues show how Kim Dan’s perspective is gradually evolving, laying the groundwork for potential confrontation. The clenched hands symbolize this internal struggle, balancing regret, lingering hurt, and a desire to fully understand the truth.

Incomplete Truths and Accountability

Joo Jaekyung never revisits or questions his decision to use the spray. (chapter 60) While he eventually acknowledges that Kim Dan was not to blame for the incident, he fails to recognize his own accountability in both the situation and its emotional aftermath. This lack of self-reflection extends to his understanding of Kim Dan’s mental state. Even though he knew the identity of the true orchestrator behind the scheme, the rival team, Joo Jaekyung did nothing to alleviate Kim Dan’s guilt and shame. Instead, his silence perpetuated the doctor’s internal suffering.

In addition, when Joo Jaekyung told Kim Dan, (chapter 60) his words left more questions than answers. He never clarified that the spray had been switched or explained what had truly happened. For Kim Dan, these vague words only deepened his emotional wounds. Left in ignorance, Kim Dan remains unaware that a fighter from Choi Gilseok’s team switched the spray. (chapter 52) By failing to provide a full explanation, Joo Jaekyung created the illusion that the matter was resolved. This lack of transparency leaves Kim Dan burdened with guilt and confusion, unable to find closure.

Ironically, Joo Jaekyung himself is not entirely informed. While he assumes Baek Junmin orchestrated the scheme (chapter 54), he is unaware that The Shotgun was merely a pawn used by Choi Gilseok, who had larger, more manipulative intentions. (chapter 52) I doubt that Potato told him about the director’s bet, too upset to discover the switched spray. The fighter’s ignorance mirrors Kim Dan’s in a way, highlighting how both are victims of deceit. This conversation further reflects their lack of communication, as it seems Joo Jaekyung deliberately avoids sharing his thoughts and knowledge with Kim Dan. (chapter 60) His reluctance to fully explain the situation perpetuates the emotional distance between them, leaving both trapped in a web of incomplete truths and unresolved tensions.

Mirroring Chapter 52: The Role of Toxic Relationships

This moment (chapter 60) also mirrors a significant scene from Chapter 52 (chapter 52), where Joo Jaekyung’s team visits him after the surgery at the hospital. Notably, the team members only address him when they need him to take the blame for the situation. Through this comparison, I noticed another aspect. They were all standing at a certain distance from the star’s bed. This exposes that none of them had the intention to spend time there and to give company to the athlete. At the same time, their position divulges their arrogance, lack of empathy or worries! Yes, no one is assuming that the athlete’s career is in danger. They are all somehow expecting that he will return to the ring. No wonder why their focus is entirely on the job, ignoring his well-being. When Joo Jaekyung finally voices his frustration and unwell-being (chapter 52), he is silenced with a slap. (chapter 52) This interaction reveals the deeply flawed dynamics of his relationships and the toxic role models that shaped him. His coach’s behavior—reducing everything to money and silencing emotional expression—has profoundly influenced his inability to recognize his own uncaring attitude at the hospice. (chapter 60) Yet, there exists a huge divergence between these two scenes. The athlete is now recognizing that he is dependent on his soulmate, though he is not voicing directly to Kim Dan. The hamster can not be replaced… someone needs to remind to Joo Jaekyung that life is fragile.

Kim Dan’s Rejection and Its Consequences

This parallel between 52 and 60 explains why Joo Jaekyung does not see how his attitude might appear dismissive or hurtful to Kim Dan. (chapter 60) Having grown up in an environment where emotional needs were consistently invalidated, he is blind to the damage his actions cause. Consequently, Kim Dan’s rejection and refusal to listen to him are understandable. (chapter 60) He is no longer willing to accept anything from Joo Jaekyung, hence he removes the needle. (chapter 60) The treatment is the symbol of the champion’s generosity and rescue. However, this is no longer working. So we could say that this gesture reflects the fate of the golden key chain. (chapter 45) After being blamed in the past, Kim Dan has reached his limit and chosen to stop engaging with Joo Jaekyung. However, this reaction risks exacerbating Kim Dan’s denial of his own mental illness, as he suppresses his emotions and isolates himself further. Contrary to the keychain, he can not be replaced. If he doesn’t get treated properly, his life could be in danger. (chapter 60) Hence he leaves a trail of blood on the floor.

Medication, Time and The Hospice as a Place of Healing

Joo Jaekyung’s reliance on medication (chapter 49) and quick fixes (chapter 54) reveals a deeper issue: his belief that drugs can compensate for his mistreatment of his own body. (chapter 27) By pushing himself beyond his physical limits and refusing to allow his body to rest, he clings to the power of medication as a means to sustain his performance. The hospice setting, where medicines and drugs are not perceived as vital (chapter 56), stands in stark contrast to Joo Jaekyung’s belief that medication is the only solution for treatment. Is it a coincidence that the doctor changed his prognostics about grandmother’s life span? No. It shows that without the new medication, she is supposed to live longer. Secondly it is clear that the grandmother is living well, because she is not plagued with remorse or guilt. In my opinion, through Shin Okja, the fighter should discover the power of mental health. (chapter 60) Besides, in such a place, he has the opportunity to experience how hands and comfort can surpass medication in offering true care and healing. This environment could challenge his reliance on external solutions and emphasize the value of trust and human connection.

Conclusion

Ultimately, this moment at the hospice highlights the need for Joo Jaekyung to confront his trust issues and the ripple effects of his decisions. His inability to reflect on his own actions and communicate openly with Kim Dan not only perpetuates the emotional distance between them but also prevents both from achieving closure. For Joo Jaekyung, this environment could serve as a turning point—a place where he learns to value emotional connection over quick fixes and begins to dismantle the toxic behaviors instilled by his past relationships. Similarly, for Kim Dan, this moment has the potential to bring about healing, but only if Joo Jaekyung takes the initiative to bridge the gap of trust and misunderstanding. Until both confront their shared and individual struggles, the imbalance in their relationship will persist, leaving unresolved the guilt, mistrust, and emotional wounds that weigh heavily on them both. I have to admit that by noticing the doctor’s jaw in this image (chapter 60), I am now wondering if the physical therapist won’t punch or slap the athlete in the future again. Chapter 61 is definitely connected to 7 (chapter 7) and the number 62 mirrors the famous fight in episode 62: (chapter 26)

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Tumblr-Twitter account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Wolf’s 🐺 Cure ⚕️ Among The Sheep 🐑

Introduction

The second season of Jinx promises to delve deeper into the lives of its main characters, transitioning from the confines of the gym (chapter 54) and penthouse (chapter 54) in Seoul—a city symbolizing anonymity, invisibility, and corruption—to the hospice “Light of Hope” (chapter 56) in a small town on the West Coast (chapter 56), where people know each other. This essay builds upon my previous interpretations of the series, which led me to develop these predictions for the upcoming season. By comparing the visual depictions of the gym and penthouse in Seoul with the hospice and small town on the West Coast, the divergence in weather becomes a powerful symbol of the changes Joo Jaekyung will undergo. The rainy, overcast settings of the gym and penthouse reflect the fighter’s inner turmoil and sadness, highlighting the oppressive atmosphere of a city rife with anonymity and corruption. In contrast, the sunny and open environment of the hospice and town by the ocean represents a space of hope and renewal, where human connections thrive. This comparison underscores the significant role the hospice and small town will play in fostering Joo Jaekyung’s self-discovery and healing. The gym and penthouse in Seoul symbolize anonymity, invisibility, and corruption. This anonymity stems from the city’s indifference to individual suffering, as seen when Kim Dan was dragged (chapter 16) (chapter 16) through the streets by loan sharks in broad daylight without anyone intervening. Invisibility is further exemplified by the perverted hospital director, (chapter 1) who harassed Kim Dan without facing any consequences, though he was caught, and by Kim Miseon’s unethical actions, such as leaking patient information (chapter 48) and using Shin Okja as a guinea pig for trial treatments (chapter 21) —none of which led to accountability. In contrast, the hospice represents a counterpoint: (chapter 56) a space where respect and dignity take precedence over ambition, fostering genuine human connection and care. This contrast between the city and the hospice highlights the champion’s need to redefine his understanding of life, identity, and success. The contrast between the hospice and MFC becomes pivotal, as these environments symbolize opposing values: while the hospice fosters compassion (chapter 57), reflection, and healing, the MFC epitomizes exploitation, indifference and neglect. (chapter 52) The best example is the vanishing of the protagonist’s former rival, Baek Junmin, (chapter 57) who no longer appears in the news.

Contrasting the Hospice and MFC

The hospice, Light of Hope, does not offer healing in the traditional sense, as its patients are no longer hoping to be cured. Instead, it provides a space for those burdened by emotional scars to wait for death in a positive way, (chapter 56) emphasizing respect and dignity. This stark reality will serve as an eye-opener for Joo Jaekyung, who is burdened by news and media narratives equating (chapter 36) (chapter 35) (chapter 36) his shoulder injury or potential career loss with “death.” At the hospice, he will encounter people who are truly facing the end of their lives (chapter 57), prompting him to recognize that his so-called career end does not symbolize his real death. (chapter 29) This realization will help him distinguish between his life as a fighter and his life as a person, setting the stage for his transformation. It provides a stark contrast to the MFC, which is riddled with manipulation and greed. At the hospice, Joo Jaekyung is likely to encounter individuals whose lives are defined not by competition but by care and connection, like Mingwa implied it with the comment of the nurse: (chapter 57). This environment challenges him to confront the indifference of figures like Yosep and Park Namwook, whose neglect, blind trust, passivity, naivety, neglect and selfishness have shaped his struggles. Notice that the nurses are often seen together and exchanging thoughts about doc Dan symbolizing unity and harmony (chapter 57) which contrasts so much to the mentality at the gym. There, no one paid attention to the well-being of Kim Dan or the athlete. The latter had to burden everything on his own. The hospice’s focus on teamwork and selflessness mirrors the qualities of the sheep—often symbols of conformity but also of communal support and altruism.

On the other hand, the grandmother believes she has found her “family” and “roots” at the hospice (chapter 57), yet her exclusion of Kim Dan reveals her flawed understanding of family, which she associates solely with a location. This behavior aligns her with the symbolism of the black sheep: a disruptive force within the community whose selfishness and inability to nurture genuine familial bonds isolate her. Her neglect of Kim Dan, despite his evident suffering, exposes her as prioritizing her personal comfort over the well-being of her own grandson. The arrival of the wolf—Joo Jaekyung—will challenge her perception, forcing her to confront the flaws in her thinking and her selfishness. His presence, along with interactions with other characters such as Potato and Heesung, who possesses the perceptiveness of a gumiho, will expose her true nature to the community. This confrontation will push her toward an overdue reckoning with her actions and their impact on Kim Dan. I also realized that since this woman is suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome, her true enemy is youth which is embodied by Yoon-Gu. The latter stands for the opposite values: innocence and responsibility. So his ignorance and purity could lead her to experience unpleasant truths, like for example: Potato asks her about the whereabouts of Kim Dan’s parents, a new version of this scene: (special episode 1) In other words, the presence of Kim Dan’s friends (Joo JAekyung, Potato and Heesung) could make her realize her true nature, which would impact her mental health. She led a life full of missed chances and regrets.

The MFC, in contrast, represents the worst of hierarchical power dynamics. It stands as a symbol of industrialization, producing ‘champions’ not for their personal growth or well-being but for monetary gain. Fighters are treated as commodities, molded and exploited for profit in a system that prioritizes output over humanity. As an organization, it prioritizes profit over the well-being of its fighters, fostering a culture of exploitation and blind obedience. Joo Jaekyung’s realization of these flaws will likely spur his transformation into the true owner of the gym, imposing his values of loyalty, care, and protection.

Defining the Cure: Reconnecting with the True Self

For Joo Jaekyung, the “cure” lies in reconnecting with his true self and rediscovering his childish side, something he could only experience twice in season 1. He had fun with Kim Dan by his side (chapter 26) (chapter 27) In Korean culture, the saying “when the heart isn’t in it” reflects a profound truth: actions devoid of sincerity lack real value. Season 2’s new settings allow the champion to reflect on his mechanical, dispassionate life and begin to act with intention and feeling.

Central to this transformation is his relationship with Kim Dan. Taking care of Kim Dan—physically, emotionally, and mentally—becomes a pathway for Joo Jaekyung to rediscover his own humanity and generosity. However, it becomes evident that the one truly dying a slow death is Kim Dan. His negative change, marked by physical and emotional decline, should make the champion realize that Kim Dan has been identifying himself with the athlete. The last incident appears to have “killed” the physical therapist’s spirit, leaving him a shadow of his former self. (chapter 54) Though in denial, Joo Jaekyung feels undoubtedly responsible for the doctor’s suffering, as one of his nightmares reveals his guilt for doubting Kim Dan’s honesty and dedication. Once seeing his terrible transformation, the man can only blame himself, especially if he recalls Cheolmin’s advice: (chapter 13)- The act of nurturing Kim Dan is symbolic: it aligns Joo Jaekyung with the wolf, an animal deeply associated with love, family, and protection. Through this connection, he learns to balance his ferocity with tenderness, becoming not just a fighter but a protector.

Education also stands at the center of Season 2, exemplified by Boksoon (chapter 57) and her puppies. Kim Dan is tasked with taking care of the dog and her newborns, and Joo Jaekyung should be asked to do the same. This responsibility not only serves as an allegory for taming the wolf within him but also paves the way for the champion’s deeper connection with Kim Dan. By being close to the ocean (chapter 56), a place where Joo Jaekyung finds relaxation through swimming, the setting introduces an opportunity for him to teach Kim Dan how to swim, addressing the latter’s fear of water (chapter 27). Swimming could become a shared activity that rebuilds their relationship on a foundation of trust, mutual learning, and growth. Engaging in this physical activity would not only strengthen their bond but also boost Kim Dan’s confidence and help him rediscover his own resilience.

Moreover, the professional dynamic between them shifts significantly in Season 2. With Joo Jaekyung hiring a new physical therapist (chapter 54), his connection with Kim Dan is no longer defined by a boss-employee relationship. Their interactions, now free of financial obligations, offer the fighter a clearer view of Kim Dan’s selfless and angelic nature. The physical therapist’s unwavering care, even at the expense of his own well-being, highlights his ungreedy and altruistic character. This realization will deepen Joo Jaekyung’s respect and affection for Kim Dan, further cementing the transformative journey they both embark on.

The Role of Mirrors and Mentors

Key secondary characters at the hospice serve as mirrors and mentors to the main leads. The landlord (chapter 57) and the yelling patient (chapter 57), represented as an ibex, embody qualities that challenge Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan to confront their past traumas and current flaws. The ibex’s defiance contrasts with the sheep-like conformity of the hospice patients, encouraging Potato, Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung to question the blind obedience that has shaped their relationship with figures like Park Namwook. These characters reflect the flaws of Yosep and Namwook, enabling Joo Jaekyung to see the neglect and indifference he has endured and inspiring him to redefine his role in the gym and in Kim Dan’s life.

Nurses 1 and 2, previously conceptualized as (chapter 56) “Nurse Mind” and “Nurse Heart,” provide another layer of mentorship. They could act as the champion’s eyes and ears, teaching him to observe and understand Kim Dan’s mental state. Though the nurse 1 started reproaching Kim Dan to neglect himself (chapter 57), she was able to note that he was suffering mentally and emotionally. She diagnosed it as burn-out. Then in the latest chapter, a new nurse appeared. With her green hair and glasses (chapter 57), she reminded me of the champion’s friend: (chapter 13) She already noticed his unusual fatigue, so in my opinion, this third woman could be the one detecting that the main lead is not eating properly. If this assumption is correct, then she stands for food and body, like in the Korean saying: “If your heart is not in it, you can’t see if you look. You can’t even hear if you listen, and you can’t taste even if you eat.” Their guidance should help Joo Jaekyung cultivate a nurturing side, showing him that strength is not solely physical but also emotional and relational. In this way, the nurses become pivotal in his journey from a lone wolf to a leader who values and protects his pack.

The Symbolism of Wolves, Sheep, and the Illustration

The wolf symbolizes love, family, and protection, qualities that Joo Jaekyung begins to embody as he nurtures Kim Dan and confronts his own vulnerabilities. The illustration visually represents this duality: the wolf in sheep clothes, walking towards the hospice, embodies Joo Jaekyung’s fierce yet diminished and protective nature, while the broken tree—representing Kim Dan—signals his fragile state and the need for healing. Together, the wolf and the sun symbolize Joo Jaekyung’s journey toward self-discovery and redemption, as he draws strength from the tree’s shade, embodying Kim Dan’s care and quiet support.

Meanwhile, the sheep represent conformity and selflessness, but the presence of the ibex disrupts this harmony, standing as a challenge to blind obedience. I have to admit that the patient’s reaction (chapter 57) reminded me a lot of Yoon-Gu’s (chapter 49), though their positions are absolutely opposite. The patient’s reaction in Chapter 57 echoes this dynamic, as he accuses Joo Jaekyung of being ill-tempered (this means that he remembers the suspension), a perspective shaped by the media’s manipulations. His criticism reflects the behavior of a sheep, falling prey to misinformation and failing to see the larger truths. On the other hand, it indicates that this man also knows a part of the truth: the suspension which is no longer mentioned, but also escaped Kim Dan’s notice, as he was dealing with his departure. In contrast, Potato’s response in Chapter 49, where he courageously questioned Director Choi despite the latter being an elder, showcases independence and critical thinking. This juxtaposition highlights the patient’s potential to awaken Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan, and Potato to the damaging impact of media narratives. Over time, the patient himself must confront the wrongfulness and cold-heartedness of his accusations, fostering growth and understanding on all sides. These characters reflect the flaws of Yosep and Namwook, enabling Joo Jaekyung to see the neglect and indifference he has endured and inspiring him to redefine his role in the gym and in Kim Dan’s life.

The illustration’s inclusion of the hamster—symbolizing Kim Dan’s fun, fragile, and nurturing nature—along with the chow chow and the gumiho, emphasizes the roles of protectors and mediators. The chow chow’s loyalty and the gumiho’s cunning serve as essential forces guarding the hamster and navigating the complexities of this “pure community,” where lies and selfishness can still exist. These characters highlight the intricate dynamics within the hospice, where Joo Jaekyung must balance strength with empathy.

Wolves also represent loyalty and teamwork, values that stand in stark contrast to the selfishness and manipulation he experienced at the MFC. Meanwhile, the sheep, often dismissed as symbols of conformity, carry a deeper meaning at the hospice. They embody gentleness, warmth (due to their wool), selflessness and community, traits that Joo Jaekyung learns to appreciate and emulate. That’s how the wolf will learn how to give warmth and comfort to his fated partner. The hamster can only feel grateful towards his benefactor pushing him to reciprocate the attitude. Then the moon, embodied by the doctor, will become the guardian of the champion so that the latter can little by little recover from his insomnia and recurrent nightmares.

A Journey of Transformation

In a world where individuals are on the verge of death, Joo Jaekyung discovers his own senses: his humanity and generosity. The hospice provides a space for him to reconnect with his true self, guided by the lessons he learns from Kim Dan, the nurses, and the “mirrors” of the landlord and the ibex. This transformation not only redefines his relationship with Kim Dan but also prepares him to reclaim his rightful place as the leader of the gym, imbuing it with values of care and protection. Furthermore, the hospice teaches Joo Jaekyung the value of rest and relaxation (chapter 57), concepts he had previously dismissed as “laziness.” (chapter 13) This newfound appreciation allows him to form fond memories of the place, associating it with peace and renewal despite the grandmother’s inevitable passing. By metaphorically taking over her place at the hospice, Joo Jaekyung symbolically builds his family there, grounding himself in the values of compassion and community. These lessons ultimately empower him to take over the gym with a renewed perspective, ready to lead with strength and empathy. Finally, I deduce that the main couple will initially navigate between the Light of Hope Hospice and the doctor’s rented room before visiting other places (like the beach and the mountain) The more places they will visit together, the more they will become true to themselves, inciting them to open their mind and heart to each other. Surrounded by nature, all the characters will get purified and discover the true source of happiness.

Ultimately, The Wolf’s Cure Among the Sheep is a story of healing through connection, a reminder that even in a world marked by competition and death, humanity and generosity can flourish when the heart is truly in it.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: Craving Mama’s 👩‍👦Shine ☀️ – part 2

Mama or Joo Jaekyung?

After reading the first part, my follower and avid reader @rantofalifetime brought my attention to this panel. (chapter 57) She wondered if this nickname “MAMA” was not a spelling mistake, and that the translator might have meant “MMA fighter Joo Jaekyung.” Intrigued by this possibility, I sought clarification, and indeed, in the Japanese version (episode 57) the reporter introduces the main lead differently: “Next, we have news regarding Joo Jaekyung.” This subtle difference is significant for three reasons.

Fighter Joo Jaekyung and its implications

First, it shifts the tone of the news. By omitting the nickname “MAMA” and using a more neutral phrasing, the journalist appears more professional and unbiased. This deliberate neutrality lends credibility to the report, giving viewers the impression that the information presented is factual and untainted by bias. Second, this choice strategically conceals the existence of any underlying manipulation or conspiracy, aligning with the larger narrative tactics observed throughout the interviews. The omission of the nickname highlights the calculated nature of MFC’s media strategy, showcasing how tone and language are carefully curated to influence public perception. Finally, like my friend noticed it, something was missing in this introduction: the nickname Emperor. The omission of the nickname “The Emperor” in the second interview is a subtle yet significant detail. It not only signals a shift in how Joo Jaekyung is perceived but also reveals a deliberate effort to undermine his status. As my friend keenly observed, this change in language demotes the champion from his previously exalted position. While he was once heralded as “The Emperor,” the absence of this title in the current narrative exposes an underlying strategy of manipulation and control. It is as though his stature is being diminished step by step, aligning with MFC’s broader agenda to distance themselves from his achievements and frame his struggles as personal failings. This seemingly minor detail becomes a glaring indicator of the deception at play, further underscoring the calculated nature of the interviews. On the other hand, they are not using the suspension as an excuse for the loss of his title. (chapter 57) And what does it mean?

Rewriting the past

The organization’s deliberate omission of the health center incident (chapter 52) and the suspension from their narrative highlights a calculated effort to erase inconvenient truths that could tarnish not only MFC’s reputation but also that of the medical professionals complicit in their schemes. Let’s not forget (chapter 41) the complicity of the doctors who cleared Joo Jaekyung to fight despite his evident injuries as another example of the corruption within this world. Moreover, by avoiding any mention of the suspension (chapter 52) (chapter 57), which stems from Joo Jaekyung’s actions at the health center, MFC ensures that questions surrounding the incident—such as the switched spray and the deliberate injury to his ankle—are never raised. This allows both the organization and the doctors involved to escape scrutiny.

By neglecting to use the suspension as a justification for the champion’s alleged fall from grace, MFC subtly frames the athletes as solely responsible for their setbacks, deflecting attention away from systemic corruption. The erasure of the health center brawl, where Baek Junmin provoked Joo Jaekyung, (chapter 52), is not only a protective measure for MFC but also shields the medical professionals who facilitated the situation. Doctors at the health center failed to report the ankle injury caused by the sabotage (chapter 50), further implicating them in a network of complicity and greed. Their decision to place the two fighters next to each other without proper privacy measures, such as curtains, reveals a disregard for professional ethics in favor of spectacle and profit. I would even add, the decisions from the health center’s medical staff, played a significant role in escalating the situation. By placing Joo Jaekyung and Baek Junmin next to each other post-fight, without appropriate measures like curtains to ensure separation, the health center created an environment ripe for conflict.

This negligence directly contributed to Baek Junmin’s severe injuries , (chapter 52) as the provoked champion lashed out in an unregulated setting. The decision to ignore these systemic failures and instead to suspend Joo Jaekyung suggests a deeper layer of complicity from the medical world, where doctors and nurses prioritized organizational demands and reputational interests over ethical responsibilities. Their failure to report the provocation and the ankle injury caused by the switched spray further highlights their alignment with MFC’s corrupt practices.

The vanishing of the shooting star

This complicity extends to Baek Junmin’s trajectory as a fighter. Once celebrated as a rising star with “star quality” (chapter 47) and favored by MFC’s CEO, Baek Junmin has now been discarded, his relevance extinguished the moment he ceased to serve the organization’s agenda. (chapter 57) His involvement in the underground fighting circuit and illegal gambling adds a layer of complexity to his role. (chapter 47) His background, combined with his visible association with MFC’s CEO, positions him as a key figure who could potentially expose the organization’s darker practices.

Rather than remaining a simple antagonist to Joo Jaekyung, Baek Junmin’s evolving role shifts him toward that of a pivotal witness. His potential testimony against figures like Choi Gilseok and the corrupt medical professionals could unravel the facade that MFC has worked so hard to maintain. This transformation invites readers to reconsider the hierarchy of villains and victims within the narrative. While Baek Junmin’s earlier provocations painted him as an adversary (chapter 49), his ultimate fate now reflects the broader cruelty and exploitation perpetuated by those in power. That’s how I realized the other signification of the cross below his left eye. The latter symbolizes his blindness in the end. The cross signifies his inability to see beyond the role he played within the system—a symbol of his naivety and misplaced confidence. Baek Junmin believed he understood the brutal reality of the fighting world, given his background in underground rings and illegal gambling. He thought his experience and cunning gave him an edge, making him untouchable or indispensable. However, his taunts to Joo Jaekyung (chapter 49) reveal a man who overestimated his position within the organization.

His role as a fighter in the shadows, bound by corrupt systems and ruthless practices, prevented him from recognizing his true dispensability. MFC’s abandonment of him after his injuries and the lack of media attention further underline this. Baek Junmin, who once took pride in being part of such a system, failed to realize that he, like Joo Jaekyung, was merely a pawn in a game controlled by higher powers. The cross, therefore, becomes a stark reminder of his ignorance—not just of his own situation but also of the shared plight of those exploited within this system.

This blindness also extends to his inability to see himself as part of a larger narrative of manipulation. His dismissal by MFC, after being paraded as the next rising star, parallels the broader exploitation of fighters, making him not just a villain but also a victim. The irony is that while he mocked Joo Jaekyung’s perceived vulnerabilities, he was equally, if not more, vulnerable to the same forces that ultimately discarded him. (chapter 52) Thus he is erased from the news.

Between Fiction and Reality

This dynamic highlights the dehumanizing nature of the combat sports world portrayed in the story. Fighters are reduced to pawns, manipulated through orchestrated narratives, and discarded when they are no longer useful. The inclusion of Baek Junmin as a potential whistle-blower not only reveals the systemic corruption within MFC but also foreshadows a potential turning point. His decision to expose the illegal activities he has witnessed, including the complicity of the doctors, could serve as the catalyst for dismantling the network of exploitation controlling the fighters’ lives. His evolution from a rival to a reluctant ally, shaped by shared experiences of manipulation and abandonment, would underscore the collective struggle of those ensnared in the system. This would emphasize the need for unity among the exploited in confronting the forces of greed and corruption that dominate their lives. On the other hand, since in episode 54, the champion is blaming Baek Junmin once again (chapter 54), it shows the athlete’s lack of reflection and insight. He hasn’t been able to discern the truth, the corruption of his “world”. This means that he needs to travel and experience a whole new world. The contrast would serve as an eye-opener for the athlete.

Mingwa’s storytelling in Jinx is layered with sharp social commentary, and the narrative’s critique of organizations like MFC can certainly be seen as a mirror to real-life entities such as the UFC. By delving into the corrupt underpinnings of MFC, Mingwa exposes the dehumanizing aspects of combat sports, where fighters are reduced to commodities rather than respected athletes. Through characters like Joo Jaekyung and Baek Junmin, the story critiques the exploitation, systemic manipulation, and lack of accountability within these organizations.

The parallels are striking. Just as MFC uses fighters for profit and discards them when they’re no longer useful, real-life organizations in the fighting industry have faced criticism for their treatment of athletes—be it inadequate healthcare, manipulated narratives to boost viewership, or prioritizing financial gain over the fighters’ well-being. The absence of transparency, as seen in the suspension’s omission in Jinx, reflects a calculated attempt to control the narrative and avoid scrutiny, a tactic not uncommon in corporate sports environments.

Silencing the Outsider: MFC’s Strategy Against Kim Dan

The second interview (chapter 57) holds significant weight in the context of Kim Dan’s storyline, as it appears to be strategically (chapter 56) released shortly after the champion’s urgent request to locate him. This timing is no coincidence. Instead, it reflects a calculated effort to manipulate both the public narrative and Kim Dan’s own perception of his role and value. By introducing the anonymous person as “one of his close associates”, it implies that the champion has already moved on from the protagonist. He is not missing him at all. At the same time, it implies that within a short time, the person was able to get the athlete’s trust which stands in opposition to this scene: (chapter 51) Thus I conclude that the interview serves a dual purpose: to emotionally undermine Kim Dan and to cement his estrangement from Joo Jaekyung.

First, the interview subtly shifts the blame for the champion’s so-called “loss” onto external factors, including his struggles with recovery and mental well-being. (chapter 57) While it does not explicitly mention Kim Dan, the implications are clear. As someone who was deeply involved in Joo Jaekyung’s health and recovery during the lead-up to the match, Kim Dan is indirectly made to feel responsible for the champion’s struggles. This psychological manipulation creates a sense of guilt, making him question his capabilities as a physical therapist and his influence on the champion’s performance. However, they fail to achieve their goal, because his subsequent reflections reveal a deeper realization (chapter 57): his regret was not merely about using the spray but about his failure to assert himself professionally. (chapter 49) By complying unquestioningly with the champion’s requests, he had diminished his role, acting more like a servant than a competent physical therapist. The interview, though painful, (chapter 57) serves as a harsh wake-up call, forcing him to confront his own shortcomings and reevaluate his behavior.

The introduction of the new physical therapist further amplifies this shift in perspective. If the new PT indeed represents a professional eager to stand in the spotlight and claim authority, their presence acts as a stark contrast to Kim Dan’s former passivity. It highlights the missed opportunities in Kim Dan’s past—instances where he could have spoken up (chapter 41), drawn boundaries, and made his expertise known. I would even add that he never felt responsible for the champion’s reputation in the media (chapter 36) Hence he remained passive all this time. His negligence becomes more obvious, when the media released this wave of articles: (chapter 52) Thus I discern a turning point in the doctor’s mentality. The last interview served as a painful wake-up call. This juxtaposition not only deepens Kim Dan’s understanding of his mistakes but also offers a model for the kind of professional he aspires to become. He can, if he wants to be in the spotlight: (chapter 41) In addition, while many Jinx-Philes are blaming the champion for his outburst, (chapter 50) rejection and (chapter 50) accusations, (chapter 51), the main lead is not blaming his fated partner at all. Why? It is because none of this would have happened, if he had acted as PT and trusted his own hands. He was too passive, standing by the sideline. He never became proactive. (chapter 57) Therefore I deduce that the doctor should be gradually become aware of his grandmother’s wrongdoings: her passivity in front of bullying and ostracism is one of the reasons for his low self-esteem. Besides, we should keep in mind his other confession which outlines (chapter 47) his indifference and lack of professionalism. In the end, the grandmother is the reason for his lack of professionalism and neglect.

But let’s return our attention to the second interview. The latter, while deeply manipulative and likely intended to isolate both Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung, inadvertently sparks a positive transformation. It forces Kim Dan to grapple with the realities of his role and recognize that his value as a physical therapist lies in his ability to assert his knowledge and make independent decisions. What was meant to discredit him 😉 becomes the catalyst for his growth, paving the way for him to reclaim his agency and redefine his identity within the professional and personal dynamics surrounding Joo Jaekyung. I would even add that it pushes him to separate private life from professional matters.

At the same time, the interview appears to diminish Kim Dan’s importance by omitting any reference to him altogether. (chapter 57) This omission sends a message: the champion is being “taken care of” by others, including the newly hired physical therapist, whose role is subtly elevated through the term “close associate.” By erasing Kim Dan from the narrative, MFC effectively undermines his connection to Joo Jaekyung and makes it seem as though his presence and contributions are no longer required. The implicit rejection is a cruel strategy designed to isolate him further and ensure that he stays away from the champion.

Kim Dan’s status as a freelancer further highlights the precariousness of his position. (chapter 54) Unlike the newly hired PT, who likely has the backing of a hospital or organization, Kim Dan operates independently. This independence, while offering a degree of freedom, also makes him vulnerable. He lacks the institutional support that could shield him from the manipulative tactics of MFC. Moreover, his independence places him in direct contrast to the systemic corruption that permeates MFC and its associated entities. As someone who has already been victimized by two major deceptions—the drugged nutrition shake (chapter 37) and the switched spray (chapter 57) —Kim Dan stands as a figure who threatens to expose the cracks in MFC’s carefully constructed facade. Let’s not forget that the incident with the poisoned beverage was swept under the rug by framing haters.

By keeping Kim Dan away from Joo Jaekyung, MFC is not only ensuring that he does not return to support the champion but also protecting their own interests. Kim Dan’s presence could potentially disrupt their narrative, especially if his proximity to Joo Jaekyung allowed him to uncover further instances of manipulation or corruption. His removal from the equation eliminates a wildcard that MFC cannot afford to tolerate.

Furthermore, the interview’s implicit targeting of Kim Dan underscores the predatory nature of the organization. Rather than openly addressing the champion’s request or the realities of his situation, MFC and the Entertainment agency opt to manipulate the individuals surrounding him to maintain control. The release of this interview ensures that Kim Dan feels alienated, unneeded, and even complicit in the champion’s struggles, thereby neutralizing him as a potential ally.

In sum, the second interview is as much about silencing Kim Dan as it is about reshaping the narrative around Joo Jaekyung. By targeting Kim Dan’s emotional vulnerabilities and professional independence, MFC and their accomplices seek to isolate him while protecting their interests. This calculated strategy highlights the organization’s ruthless nature and its willingness to exploit anyone—even those on the periphery—to maintain its grip on the narrative.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: Burning Up🔥, Losing Control 🛞

Behind the wheel

In episode 56, we could see Joo Jaekyung losing his cool, the more he tried to find Kim Dan. This huge transformation can be detected, when Jinx-philes compare these two following images. (chapter 56) and (chapter 56) While in the first picture, Joo Jaekyung is calm, concentrated and silent, in the second one, the fighter is agitated, lost, breathless and yelling. These two mental dispositions are reflected in the location. In the first image, the MMA celebrity appears behind the steering wheel, which is a symbol for power, determination and control, whereas in the second panel the champion is wandering alone in the street. This running is no longer part of his training and routine, but it exposes his powerlessness, loneliness and despair. He has no idea where to go contrary to the first picture. This means that the latter embodies goal and destination, whereas the second image represents the opposite values: beginning, start, ground zero and source. In other words, the end of episode announces the athlete’s rebirth or better said, the start of a new life. I will elaborate further below. But let’s return our attention to the symbolism of the auto.

As you can see, the latter stands for success, wealth, authority and domination. (chapter 56) (chapter 56) Even if the main lead is moving among other cars, people can recognize that the owner of such a car is rich and probably famous due to the brand and design. On the other hand, by roaming in the street, the champion blends into the background and as such to the mass. (chapter 56) Because Joo Jaekyung doesn’t want to be recognized, he is wearing a mask and a cap. This gesture stands for anonymity, hence no one is paying attention to him. Contrary to his frenemy at the cafe (chapter 35), Joo Jaekyung succeeded. He is just a passerby. In other words, the avenue indicates not only his failure to find Kim Dan, but also his loss of power and status. He has just become a nobody. Thus we should consider this as the athlete’s karma for thinking that Kim Dan could be replaced, because he was just a nobody: (chapter 55) It is no coincidence as well that the author showed us the star’s back, when the latter called his hyung Park Namwook. (chapter 56) Moreover, the shades are quite similar: red/orange and brown. Without his car, he is like everyone else: a human with his flaws and imperfections.

I have to admit that when I read episode 56, I couldn’t restrain myself connecting episode 56 to chapter 33 and in particular due to my essay called: These two chapters are similar, for they convey the same emotions: anger, anxiety, frustration and despair of the fighter. In the car, the champion attempted to control the doctor’s libido. (chapter 33) On the one hand, he appeared calm and concentrated like in 56, yet deep inside, he was burning up. The pink dildo was used as a tool to voice his negative emotions (abandonment issues, insecurities and jealousy). With the release of episode 56, another reason came to my mind why the athlete proposed to drive the physical therapist to Choi Heesung. (chapter 32) First, he switched the car in order to demonstrate his wealth and status. It was, as if he wanted to show off to his fated companion, which reminded me of the actor. The latter would bomb doc Dan with “presents”, an indirect demonstration of his fortune. In addition, Jinxphiles will certainly recall that during the same day, the comedian came to fetch the physical therapist with his white Porsche. (chapter 32) Consequently, I came to the following deduction. The man selected the gray car in order to distinguish himself from his rival, to impress his companion.

Secondly, it was the wolf’s way to keep the doctor in check, to control the situation. He is behind the wheel, hence he takes the lead and had the saying in their relationship, like we could observe it in another situation: (chapter 42) And what was his attitude there? He would not listen to his passenger. Moreover, he would separate his job from his roommate’s. It looked like they were living in two different worlds, though they were sharing the car. This scene exposes miscommunication, lack of faith, stubbornness and prejudices. The fighter was not willing to accept the physical therapist’s doubts and chose to go through with the training and match.

Thus I deduce that the vanishing of his car is indicating that the athlete is now ready to LISTEN! He is no longer cut off from the world, he is moving among humans. His penthouse and his car were the reasons why he kept people at arms-length and why he preached self-reliance. They were the symbols of his success and identity: (chapter 2) (chapter 32) So by leaving them behind, it indicates that Joo Jaekyung is transforming and as such maturing. But why is he so desperate to control his life and even Kim Dan’s by leaving no room to change or “surprise”? I believe to have found the answer: chronic abuse. I know that the quote is quite long, but in this description, Jaekyung-addicts can recognize their beloved character:

After reading this, my avid readers can grasp why the champion’s past has been kept in the dark by the author and why the athlete dislikes it, when his past is mentioned: (chapter 26) First, he repressed it, but thanks to doc Dan, he is encouraged to face his traumatic past. But for that, he needs to trust someone, a person who wouldn’t judge him and would show understanding. He came to associate “pity” (chapter 37) with arrogance and weakness, but this is not true. [For more read this https://psyche.co/ideas/pity-is-an-emotion-easy-to-scorn-but-central-to-our-humanity]

This new discovery reinforces my previous hypothesis that the main lead was exposed to chronic abuse (emotional abuse, parental criticism and probably bullying), which remained undetected. So by “losing his car”, he is gradually giving up on his control issues. At the same time, it gives him the opportunity to redefine his own life. What does he want from life and his career as MMA fighter? Consequently, I come to the deduction that Joo Jaekyung is about to become the true owner of his time and as such of his own life. Let’s not forget that even in season 2, his manager is still the one “controlling” his time. (chapter 54) (chapter 56) This signifies that the champion is about to discover that in reality, he was not truly free. While he thought, he was controlling his life behind the wheel, in verity, he was just a puppet, for his decisions were influenced by his fears and past. I would even add that the loss of his routine announces his willingness to accept changes and surprises in his life. The latter are no longer perceived as a threat.

The champion’s car and his hyungs

Because Joo Jaekyung connects car with power and leadership, I came to realize why the champion trusts so much coach Jeong Yosep and his other hyung: (chapter 5) He allows the coach to drive the car and the manager to sit in the front. Thus they represent the higher authorities. However, so far, the doctor had only been his passenger. Thus a new idea popped up: what if the athlete let the physical therapist drive his car? Let’s not forget that the loner wolf shouldn’t be driving on his own, for his shoulder has not healed properly yet. I already pointed out the wrongdoings from the two hyungs. (chapter 53) They should have brought him home. They stand for neglect and indifference due to their passivity and routine. In my eyes, they are happy at the gym, the latter represents their second family. So they imagine that it is the same for their boss. In other words, they projected their own thoughts and feelings onto the celebrity. They embody silence and lack of communication and this is actually palpable in the car. In episode 5, the manager and the MMA fighters lied to each other: (chapter 5) Then in episode 49, the champion kept The Shotgun’s words as a secret, while his coach confessed his trust in his “boy” (chapter 49). Yet, he revealed his true thoughts at the hospital: (chapter 52) He has no real trust in the athlete. Finally, my avid readers should notice that we never heard coach Jeong Yosep speaking up or exchanging his thoughts to the other members there. To conclude, I interpret the car as a symbol for censorship, silence, miscommunication, stubbornness and deafness. In other words, this place is also polluted. (chapter 53) So when the champion returned home on his own after the surgery, it displays the high peak of the censorship and uncommunicativeness from the two hyungs. They didn’t bring up the eventuality that Kim Dan might have moved from the penthouse. They kept doc Dan’s departure under wraps and waited for the right opportunity. But the best evidence for this interpretation is the absence of Jeong Yosep after episode 52. From that moment on, he is no longer present in the star’s life. But there’s more to it. I noticed the absence of Jeong Yosep’s phone number. At no moment, we see him contacting the protagonist through the phone. (chapter 52) Imagine that he only reported his investigation and actions afterwards. Then on the athlete’s birthday, he didn’t send any private message as well. (chapter 45) It gives the impression that he owns no cellphone, especially if Jinx-philes recall this situation in the States: (chapter 37) He was using the landline telephone. This observation is relevant, because it exposes the coach’s dependency on Park Namwook. The latter’s task is to keep in touch with his boss and champion, for he has his cellphone number. Nevertheless, how do we explain the absence of the coach’s cellphone? I have the feeling that this could be related to his divorce. (chapter 5) When his wife suddenly blocked him, he got shocked and hurt. And don’t forget that we have another person traumatized with a phone call: Kim Dan, who got abandoned during that day. (chapter 19) Thus this observation made me think that the coach could have something in common with Kim Dan. And that’s how the champion will demonstrate his strength to his hyung. Contrary to him, he didn’t accept the divorce so “easily”. In fact, he is fighting for the doctor in his own way. The problem is that he is his own worst enemy.

Interesting is that each time the MMA star was seen in the backseat(chapter 49), Jinxphiles could never view the driver. (chapter 5) According to my theory, this should be the coach. And the latter lost his wife despite his success. Now, Jinxphiles can grasp the discrepancy. Though the coach is the driver, he is not the one with the upper hand. In reality, he is putting his faith and trust in his passenger, Park Namwook. How so? It is because he is viewed as the counselor and expert. And how is the manager reacting to the fighter’s change of behavior? (chapter 56) He doesn’t look worried, scared or despaired. In fact, he is pretty calm, the opposite to this scene: (chapter 13) His question “Is everything okay with you?” is purely mechanical and as such meaningless, for he doesn’t inquire, when he hears a silence from the other side of the line. I would even say that he doesn’t really wait for his boy’s answer as well. (chapter 56) Finally, his comment is full of hidden criticism: “I haven’t heard from you…; You haven’t been coming…”. He is reproaching his star to neglect his work, though he is still in recovery. I have to confess that Park Namwook’s short scene drove me hot and crazy 🔥😂 One thing is sure: Despite the outcome of the last match, the hyung has not made up his mind to change his routine at all. But he is not realizing that this phone call represents a turning point in their relationship. How so? It is because if the champion switches his phone number (chapter 56), he could end up in the same situation than the protagonist. And keep in mind that the coach Yosep is actually relying on the manager. Thus I reckon that the champion’s other source of power is actually his cellphone! Without him, he has no connection (chapter 5), no money (chapter 32) and no power. His call to the manager during that evening represents his last resort. Thus he is calling the manager “Namwook hyung” contrary to episode 5. (chapter 5) This title is indicating that the champion is opening up, and willing to show his vulnerability and despair. On the other hand, this change also implies “expectations” from the fighter, (chapter 56) just like the doctor tried to show his appreciation to Joo Jaekyung with the gift: (chapter 55) The physical therapist hoped to get recognition, gratitude and acceptance from his soulmate. That’s the reason why I perceive this conversation over the phone as a reflection from that scene: (chapter 46) Keep in mind that at the gym, the athlete denied the relevance of information. Though both hyungs were warned, the reality was that they got off scot-free. They never received any blame for failing to protect him and this twice. And now, he is looking for intel about the doctor. Indirectly, fate is teaching him to recognize his error. In fact, information can procure a good insight about people’s behavior and as such fears. Let me give you an example: if Joo Jaekyung were to hear about Kim Dan’s first employment as PT, he should understand why the PT made mistakes, why he took odd jobs and why he “left” Seoul. If he wanted to work as PT, he needed to go elsewhere.

But let’s return our attention to the champion. In episode 46, he denied the importance of intel on the impact of a match. Hence I deduce that with the doctor’s vanishing, he is learning another tough life lesson. It is important to get to know his roommate and even to converse with him. This is something he didn’t do in the past. I will explain below why. On the other hand, the contrast between 46 and 56 reinforces my conviction that one of the schemers knows about the champion’s fears and past. Thus the fighter was more and more confronted with the past thanks to doc Dan. So by unlocking his past, the fighter not only gets released from his mental prison, but also will be able to detect his enemies in the future.

To conclude, the car and the phone in Jinx symbolized not only the champion’s powers, but also his “identity”. When he was driving his auto, he thought, he was independent and as such the owner of his “life”. He thought, he was controlling his life. He was the famous and rich MMA fighter. Yet, this was just an allusion. The routine was there to make him forget his painful childhood. So by seeing him alone in the street (chapter 56), I feel like he is about to lose everything. Destruction is necessary so that the sportsman can rebuild a new life. The vanishing of his routine was also a necessity, because the athlete needs to include Kim Dan in his life. That’s the real definition of “living together”.

Back, silence and prejudices

Though the athlete is appearing lost and weak on the street, his mind-set oozes the opposite. Determination!! He knows what he wants: (chapter 56) He wants to meet his companion again. He already describes him as a need. This implies that the hamster has almost become a “necessity ” for the celebrity. On the other hand, these words expose that the fighter is still not ready to meet his fated partner. How so? It is because his words divulge the absence of “conversation”. In the beginning, he wished to talk about his feelings to Kim Dan so that he could get closure. (chapter 56) He somehow expected doc Dan to listen to his words and accept them. That was it. Then at the end, it is just about seeing doc Dan and nothing more. At no moment, he voiced the desire to get to know his partner or to listen to his side of the story. Why? It is because he had strongly internalized that the man was a liar. He never questioned his perception and detected his own prejudices. It is important to recollect how Jinx-philes could sense a positive change in the physical therapist: (chapter 22) Yes, it is the view with the star’s back. The author selected such a position on purpose. The face represents the character’s identity and as such his personality. By showing the back, Mingwa is implying that the beholder is full of prejudices and doesn’t know his partner that well. That’s why I judge this image (chapter 55) as a reflection from the one in episode 22. Nevertheless, this represents the sportsman’s prejudices about the doctor. But contrary to doc Dan in episode 22, the wolf wanted to forget him. In other words, he refused to become curious about doc Dan. This means that he initially regressed, as he made the wrong decision. However, it was a necessary step for the fighter, for the latter has always put himself under pressure: he was such a perfectionist. That’s the reason why I interpret the following image (chapter 56) as a mini-confession from the manager. He is gradually admitting that he doesn’t know his boy that well. Yet, he still puts the blame on the main lead. On the other hand, I believe that the manager in this picture should be seen as a reflection from the champion’s mind: (chapter 56) He believes to know his hyung, that’s why he trusts him so much. Hence he is willing to expose his vulnerability and despair: (chapter 56) He expects no contempt or shock from him. He anticipates acceptance and tolerance. But is this man willing to overthrow his conscience and integrity for his “champion’s sake”? Since he is portrayed as eyeless, it implies the champion’s prejudice and blindness. He doesn’t know his manager that well either: the man is rather a coward and a child than a mature father. Thus I started wondering how Park Namwook would react to this request. Will he accept it? Keep in mind that the main lead is not saying that he wants to hire doc Dan, it is only about seeing him. And this aspect made me realize why Joo Jaekyung got so upset and scared in the past: (chapter 7) (chapter 32) (chapter 37) (chapter 40) (chapter 43) (chapter 45) (chapter 46) (chapter 47) Looking at his face had become his new secret ritual and as such his source of joy. Naturally, his heart and unconscious were the causes for this new habit. This explicates why he hated hearing the doctor leaving the penthouse during the night: he feared that he would no longer be able to see his cute face. That’s also the reason why Joo Jaekyung got angry/upset, when he saw the doctor turning his head away (chapter 37) or the shocked and wounded doctor’s visage: (chapter 51) Kim Dan’s face which had become his secret source of joy, became a weapon suddenly! It brought him pain. And what did he say afterwards to the doctor in the locker room? (chapter 51) He wished not to see his “face”. The latter had become his “addiction”. Thus his face in tears came to haunt him. (Chapter 54) This nightmare exposed his regret which he tried to deny and bury. At the same time, I have the feeling that his secret desire was to wipe away his tears as well. Nevertheless the problem is that such a love is rather superficial, for people’s body deteriorate over time. What matters in love is a good personality and a good heart. According to Erich Fromm, love is knowledge, respect, care and responsibility. Hence this separation became a necessity for the fighter. Fate had to force him to admit this: (chapter 56) He needs to see his face. A picture won’t be enough or even hear a report about him. Furthermore, he imagines that if he sees Kim Dan doing well, he can get closure and move on. That’s the reason why I think that Joo Jaekyung needs to get a new insight about the doctor or about himself before meeting him. He needs to admit his ignorance and bias. So far, he felt more “pity” and showed more understanding towards the grandmother than towards Kim Dan. The evidences for this perception are the way he behaved towards her: he was gentle, he paid her bills (chapter 21) and almost got shocked (chapter 56), when he imagined that she had died. In reality, he helped financially more the grandmother than Kim Dan himself. Kim Dan is the one he should really empathize with. He has always been a victim of circumstances.

Joo Jaekyung, a human, a dog or a wolf?

Nonetheless, we could see his wandering in a positive light: (chapter 56) Joo Jaekyung is slowly turning into a real human. At its core, to be “human” involves:

  • Emotional Vulnerability: Humans are not perfect; they experience pain, fear, despair, and helplessness. And that’s how the champion feels in that moment.
  • Complexity and Depth: A human being is defined not only by their achievements but also by their struggles, flaws, and relationships. Interesting is that the reproach from the manager doesn’t get noticed by the champion, as he is too obsessed with doc Dan.
  • Empathy and Connection: Becoming human often involves acknowledging one’s need for others and accepting imperfection.

For Joo Jaekyung, being a star or fighter meant embodying strength, invincibility, and control. These traits distanced him from others, presenting him as more of an ideal or symbol rather than a person. Despair often marks a catharsis or turning point in literature and character arcs. It is the moment when a person realizes their limitations and confronts their authentic self. By experiencing despair on the street, Joo Jaekyung steps away from his constructed image and embraces his real identity. He is no longer just “the fighter” or “the star”; he is a man who can lose, suffer, and feel deeply. This coincides with the dropping of his routine and the neglect of his duties. His life is now chaotic, as the protagonist started forgetting his title and career. The manager could think, his boy lost his sight on what truly matters. The reality is that his life has always been meaningless and aimless. He always felt emptiness, but the title masked this emotions. His obsession with the doctor is bringing to the surface his hidden struggles and fake believes.

However, I don’t think that the man has reached the bottom yet. How so? It is because he is still relying on his “hyung”, money and power: (chapter 56) Moreover, by utilizing the expression “by whatever means necessary”, he is asking his hyung to disregard morality and laws. It was, as if he was encouraging the manager to throw over board his conscience and integrity. It looks like he is encouraging his manager to behave like Director Choi Gilseok: spies and connections. (chapter 46) But the hyung stands for “conformity and social norms”. Moreover, observe that Joo Jaekyung is turning his search of Kim Dan into a manhunt “Track him down”. His vocabulary evokes a predatory, almost feral quality, suggesting desperation and a lack of integrity. Readers know why he became obsessed with doc Dan, but is it the same for the manager? The main lead’s words reminded me of the loan shark Heo Manwook, which could let his enemies misunderstand the athlete. He resents the PT and wants to put the blame on him. This moment highlights a significant shift in his character: rather than adhering to rationality, morality, or compassion, he is overtaken by raw instinct, much like a wolf hunting its prey. This explicates why the author created such a panel: (chapter 56) Desperation can strip away the higher faculties that make us human—reason, empathy, and self-control—exposing something primal. (chapter 56) In this moment, Jaekyung’s words highlight his transformation into someone governed by instinct (desperation to find the doctor at all costs), which challenges the notion of his humanity. His inability to address the situation with trust or compassion reinforces his struggle to act as a “real human” with integrity. The latter is defined as adherence to moral principles and honesty. Jaekyung’s behavior here reveals an absence of both, exposing a darker, corrupted side of his personality. He looks more like a wolf. (chapter 56) This means that he is not showing his true self. And now pay attention to the time and sunlight: (chapter 56) It is the golden hour or better said, between dog and wolf (“Entre chien et loup”). This idiom refers to “at dusk, twilight, nightfall”. At the same time, this idiom evokes this image of transformation and duality, two natures fighting against each other. Is the champion a “dog” or a “wolf”, when it comes to Kim Dan? I had already outlined the huge signification of this time in the following essay: “Magical Hours“. Back then, I had outlined the difference between “golden hour” and “blue hour”: (chapter 17) and (chapter 11). In season 1, the athlete stands for golden hour, whereas Heo Namwook embodies blue hour. “Entre chien et loup” is the time of day when the light is such that is becomes difficult to distinguish between a dog and a wolf, between friend and foe, between known and unknown. Hence I am thinking that if the next episode represents a continuation of that nightfall, it signifies that the champion is on his way to meet someone from the past. Moreover, I detected that the pavement is the same than in front of the gym: (chapter 56) (chapter 35) (chapter 48) As you can see, this detail made me realize that the next chapter should contain reflections from episode 35 and 48, the meeting with an old/new acquaintance. I am writing new and old together on purpose, for Director Choi Gilseok had been the halmoni’s loan shark, but the “hamster” had no idea. Choi Gilseok is the boss of Heo Manwook. If this encounter takes place, it signifies that on the one hand, it will cause pain and suffering to the athlete, on the other hand, this incident will become a “blessing in disguise”, for it will push the champion to reflect and mature. That’s how I had the following revelation. Why did the author ensure that the MMA fighter’s shoulder would get badly injured? (chapter 52) It is because this exposes the champion’s bad coping mechanism. The champion always uses his fists, therefore he doesn’t reflect and as such analyze his emotions. (chapter 52) That’s how he felt right into the trap of the schemers. So by having his splint, Joo Jaekyung is indirectly coerced to meditate on his feelings., as he can no longer use his shoulder and as such his fist. His physical injury represents in reality his “lucky charm”, for it helps him to transform, to overcome his trauma and face the shadows from his traumatic past. Notice that for the first time, the athlete came to accept the existence of feelings for Kim Dan. (chapter 56) However, he is not talking about love and gratitude yet. Without his left shoulder, he is forced to use his brain and as such his third eye. It is important, because it implies that the fighter is gradually learning how to control his emotions. Compare his attitude on the street (chapter 5) to the one at the gym from episode 5: (chapter 5) He is much calmer. He is not oozing red and remaining silent. He is not burning up inside, in fact he is expressing his thoughts and emotions: (chapter 56) That’s the reason why I believe that in the next episode, the fighter won’t act on his feelings like in the past. But there exists another common denominator between episode 5 and 56. The athlete’s request mirrors the situation in episode 5. (chapter 5) In both cases, the athlete asked for his manager’s help. However, as Jinx-philes can sense, there exist two huge differences between the past and present. Back then, Park Namwook didn’t care for Kim Dan. He was just a PT like any other doctor. He didn’t even care that Joo Jaekyung would lose his temper and ruin the sandbag. (chapter 5) It was not worrisome in his eyes, because his day would consist of training and punching the sandbag. The problem is that the fighter is no longer coming to the gym and he is not even calling him: (chapter 56) While the contrast between episode 5 and 56 reflects their growing gap and gradual separation, it seems to indicate that Park Namwook will follow the athlete’s request. He would have two reasons for this: money and hope that this would give some closure to his boy so that the latter can focus on his “training” again. But by following his request, he could expose his “connection” which is linked to the champion’s past. But I could be wrong. He could refuse it, for this request sounds so scary and immoral. Notice that the author didn’t let her readers hear his answer. We will see. Finally, it is important to recall that the fighter is dressed differently and he is more on the mode “listening” than “seeing”, as he had to hear the answers from his investigation: (chapter 56) Notice that even at the end, readers were not even able to see the PT’s faces: (chapter 56) This shows that the athlete is using more and more his intelligence, he is forced to interact with people. He is gradually developing his social skills which stand for COMMUNICATION. And how did he get deceive in the past? (chapter 48) He got manipulated by his eyes! They used a trick to deceive the athlete: delivering the truth in delay. Joo Jaekyung didn’t confront Kim Dan, because he saw the pictures as proofs! He never tried to hear his side from the story. And now, you comprehend why I am expecting that the champion will suffer another “blow” in the next episode. In my opinion, he will hear an important information. The fire in the illustration is there to indicate “Tabula Rasa”, a clean state. Joo Jaekyung has to lose all his principles and his bias about doc Dan. But for that he needs to face his own past and mistakes. Only through this effective anguish, he can become a better man, a new man.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: Daily Jinx Advent Insight 17 📆 0️⃣1️⃣9️⃣The Shadows Cast By Numbers

In the composition The Magic Of Numbers I demonstrated the strong link between numbers, characters and situations. This led me to focus on the number 7 and its signification in Jinx. [For more read Magic 7 : Navigating between Jinx and Luck]. Is it a coincidence that number has for synonym “figure”, which is also an equivalent for “character”, person”? I don’t think so. However, the biggest discovery has not been revealed yet. Thus if my avid readers look carefully at the new illustration now, they will detect the digit 1, 0 and 9. What do they mean in Jinx? I will answer to this in the following analysis.

Numbers and Characters

For that, it is important to look at the following chapters and their digits:

Chapter 1Chapter 1Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 20
Loan SharksPerverted Hospital DirectorHeo Namwook/ the loan shark and his minionsHeo Namwook and minionsHeo Namwook and minionsHeo NamwookLoan Shark and Perverted Hospital Director
Chapter 37Chapter 46Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49
Mysterious MFC agentHeo Namwook and minionsFirst appearance of Choi GilseokBaek Junmin’s first appearanceChoi Gilseok meeting Kim DanBaek Junmin meeting Joo Jaekyung and Director Choi switching the spray thanks to his minions

What do these episodes have in common? The number 10 or better said 1 and 0. Let me give different examples. 11; 37 : 3+7= 10; 46: 4+6=10; 4+7= 11. What caught my attention is that the number 1 and 0 are strongly intertwined with the villains.

Before going any further, it is relevant to define a villain.

A villain in literature is a character who represents evil or opposing moral values and often creates conflict with the protagonist. Villains typically display malicious intent, seeking to harm, dominate, or oppose others for personal gain or twisted ideals. Examples include:

  • Darth Vader (Star Wars): A dark lord driven by a desire to impose order through domination.
  • Hannibal Lecter (The Silence of the Lambs): A brilliant but psychopathic serial killer.
  • Voldemort (Harry Potter): A dark wizard seeking immortality and control​

This means that villains in Jinx are people resenting the main leads, they wish to harm or even ruin them. But let’s return our attention to my interpretation. The digit 1 announces the presence of a villain. One might argue about this perception, for number 48, 49 or 20 doesn’t mirror this theory. Nevertheless, Jinx-philes shouldn’t keep in mind that 8 embodies Kim Dan. Moreover, we should see it like that: 47= 4+7= 11, then 48=: 47 (Baek Junmin) + 1 Director Choi. Additionally, in 49, we have 4 persons involved in the scheme to kill the champion with Shotgun: (chapter 49) These 3 men and The Shotgun have to be seen as a team. Moreover, 4 is a synonym for death. Then, observe that the image from episode 20 contains two villains, the loan shark and the perverted hospital director. 1 +1 = 2. So when we see the number 10, 11, 16, 17 and 18, we could perceive it as an allusion to Heo Namwook, the villain.

However, another objection could be raised. What about episode 47? If you add the digits together, you have 11. So where are the two “villains”? It is clear that one is referring to the Shotgun, as for the other we could say, it is an allusion to the invisible involvement of Choi Gilseok. Then what about 11? One possible answer would be to say that the other villain in episode 11 was the representative of the association (chapter 11) and indirectly the persons involved in the redevelopment. However, I have to admit that I have a different explanation.

1 and antagonists

And this brings me to my other observation. In my eyes, the digit is not just referring to villains, but also to antagonists. You might ask about the difference between a villain and an antagonist.

An antagonist, by contrast, is any force or character that opposes the protagonist, creating conflict. They act as barriers to the protagonist’s growth or objectives, embodying stagnation or forces that resist transformation. Unlike villains, antagonists are not necessarily evil. For example:

The Party (1984): The oppressive government represents the antagonist but is not embodied by a single “villainous” character. The party embodies immobility through oppressive control, rejecting individuality or societal progress. It acts as a hurdle for Winston Smith, who seeks freedom and truth.

Miss Havisham in Great Expectations:: She is trapped in her heartbreak, she resists emotional healing and inadvertently thwarts Pip’s development.

As for Captain Ahab in Moby-Dick:, though a protagonist in his own story, Ahab’s obsessive immobility (revenge on the whale) becomes an antagonist force against his crew and their survival.

In other words, they create tension by opposing the protagonist’s goals. They test the main character’s resolve, adaptability, and resourcefulness. By clinging to outdated systems, ideologies, or personal fears, they symbolize forces that resist progress. Many antagonists refuse change, either out of fear, selfishness, or a belief in their own superiority. This refusal often highlights the protagonist’s drive for transformation or growth. To conclude, they embody hurdles to overcome, immobility, intern and extern conflict, resistance and regression.

Therefore for episode 11, one might think that the other 1 was referring to Joo Jaekyung, for the latter appears like a barrier which the young physical therapist needs to overcome. (chapter 11) Let’s not forget that in Jinx-Fandom, many Jinx-addicts calls him a “red flag”. Here, he was abusing his position. Furthermore, this theory could be seen as validated with the first episode with this image: (chapter 1) The main lead appears as a beast, triggering the doctor’s fears. He seems to be like an antagonist. However, I believe that it is just a deception. First, Mingwa has clearly stated that the champion is the protagonist of Jinx. As such, he can be neither a villain nor an antagonist. Secondly, though he seems to serve as a barrier, the reality is that Kim Dan is incited to mature and overcome his own fears. In fact, the celebrity represents the opposite notions of “conformity” and “immobility”. He embodies verity, maturity, transformation and progression. The evidence of this perception is the gradual transformation of Kim Dan as an inexperienced PT to a very professional and performant physical therapist. According to my interpretation, the Emperor works as the mirror of truth. He confronts the delusional physical therapist with his mental and emotional issues, like here: (chapter 20). Sex is not dirty, he is not an old creep. He is just 29 years old. He is pure and innocent like a baby. Hence we should see this discussion (chapter 45) as a good trigger for the 29 years old man to turn into a good PT. From that moment on, he only focused on the sportsman, and stopped asking the help from colleagues or listening to them. (chapter 42) He only relied on his hands. He was forced to become a serious and confident PT!!

On the other hand, there is no denial that the athlete shares some similar traits with an antagonist: his selfishness, the use of threats and an ideology (his jinx). Consequently, one might still contest my interpretation. Nonetheless, this hesitation can be removed easily, when we return our attention to chapter 1 again. (chapter 1) This image was not reflecting reality, but Kim Dan’s vision!! The following panel is the unbiased truth: (chapter 1) The star was just waiting, and not threatening the doctor. As you can see, Joo Jaekyung doesn’t appear like a threat or a monster. But this doesn’t end here. One detail caught my interest. The champion is associated with blue. It is his true color, whereas Kim Dan is “red”, like a sweet strawberry. So why does this young man ooze a red aura, when his true shade is blue like water (chapter 27) or the ocean. It is because he was under the influence of his hyung Park Namwook which explains why Mingwa introduced him like this: (chapter 1) Note the contrast to his “boy”. The red is not coming from Joo Jaekyung’s body (chapter 1), but more from the side which stands in opposition to the coach.

Thus I came to the following deduction. In episode 1, the MMA fighter appears as an antagonist, but he is not the real one, it is his coach and manager. The latter only shows his true colors at the end of season 1. This interpretation gets corroborated with episode 11: (chapter 11) The coach is yelling for Joo Jaekyung’s comment, yet the reality is that the manager didn’t treat Kim Dan at all. In fact, he feigned ignorance. Moreover, look at the champion’s t-shirt: (chapter 1) There is a spider on his t-shirt, which represents the manager’s personality and behavior. (chapter 26) In this composition, I compared the MMA star with a leopard and Park Namwook to a spider: Daily Jinx Advent Insight 12. This shows that the main lead had been copying his mentor’s behavior for a while. And the moment you associate 1 with Park Namwook, it becomes more comprehensible why he argued with his pupil in 17 (chapter 17) or in episode 46 (chapter 46) He represents regression or the hurdle to overcome.

However, we should consider the first episode as a combination of 1 and 0: 01. And who was missing in this chapter? Naturally, Shin Okja, the doctor’s grandmother. She is the other antagonist for our beloved couple: (chapter 11) (chapter 11) And I can prove my statement by showing the episode where she appears:

Chapter 5Chapter 7Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21

Chapter 22Chapter 30Chapter 41Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 53


Here, we should see as a continuation of episode 47.

By looking at the numbers carefully, I suddenly realized what the halmoni’s true number could be. It is 11 which actually makes 2. Hence we have 20, 21 and 22 where she plays a huge role. One might argue for this hypothesis, for she appears in episode 5 and 7. However, combine these two numbers together, then you have 12. A combination of 2 and 1, which is similar to 11 and 2. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the Webtoonist made her appear again, when Baek Junmin (the criminal embodies 5) entered the spotlight: 5 *2 = 10 or 47 = 11. But what does the number 1 and 0 mean.

1: Isolation, Ego, and Domination

The number 1 is often associated with leadership, individuality, and beginnings. However, its negative side can symbolize isolation, self-centeredness, and authoritarianism.

  1. Isolation and Loneliness
    • As a singular entity, 1 can represent someone who stands alone, often by choice or force, cutting themselves off from others. Park Namwook has always excluded the athlete from the “parties” (chapter 9) or other events like this one: (chapter 37) Buying in secret junk food.
    • This isolation can stem from arrogance or a belief in their superiority, which distances them from meaningful relationships. (chapter 52) Hence he shouldn’t be seen as a true friend of the champion. He views himself as the better one: manners, temper and decisions. The reality is that he is never making any decision.
    • In Jinx, the antagonistic figures, such as the surrogate parents, could embody this isolation by choosing control over connection, leaving the leads emotionally detached and alienated. Hence the grandmother keeps asking favors from her grandchild (chapter 11) (chapter 47)
  2. Selfishness and Ego
    • Negatively, 1 reflects the “me-first” mentality, where the individual prioritizes their needs, desires, and ambitions at the expense of others.
    • In villains, this could manifest as manipulative behavior or exploitation, as they treat others as tools rather than equals. (chapter 1)
  3. Domination and Tyranny
    • In its extreme, 1 represents absolute power—one ruler, one decision-maker—leading to oppressive or dictatorial behavior. Hence Kim Dan could never get a job as PT at a hospital. (chapter 1) But it is the same for the champion who got his “gym” stolen from his hyung: (chapter 22) He is acting here like a tyrant.
    • This can parallel the way antagonists in Jinx drain others emotionally and physically, exercising control in a way that leaves the protagonists powerless and diminished. They feel jinxed. That’s the reason why I added bats on the illustration. I came to this revelation thanks to this article:

The hidden vampires in Jinx

And naturally, these two descriptions reminded me of the manager from Team Black. He slaps or yells at the champion, each time he is frustrated. Then he trusts no one (chapter 52), spreading rumors, mistrust and doubts. (chapter 46) This would explain the champion’s emptiness and darkness: (chapter 29) As for the halmoni, she embodies the last type of emotional vampire:

This description reminded me of the last conversation between the doctor and his grandmother. (chapter 53) The request for another sacrifice and promise. It is also possible that she represents a combination of another type, though we didn’t see her complaining too much in season 1:

Maybe the phone call during the night, her repetitive requests the next morning (chapter 21) and Kim Miseon’s reproach to Kim Dan could be seen as an indirect allusion. And if my interpretation about her number is correct, then we would have a good explanation why Kim Dan was unable to perceive her true nature, but also why she is so selfish.

11: The false spiritual guide

The number 11 in numerology is often referred to as a “Master Number,” carrying profound spiritual energy and potential for enlightenment. However, its heightened sensitivity and intense energy can also manifest negatively. While they are visionaries, individuals influenced by 11 sometimes struggle to transform their dreams into reality. Their focus on idealism or spirituality may distract them from practical implementation. People influenced by 11 may feel overwhelmed by their internal energy, leading to high levels of stress and emotional instability. Their sensitivity to external stimuli can make them prone to chaotic thoughts and anxiety when life feels out of balance. The number’s dual nature can create internal conflict, making it difficult for individuals to find stability. They may oscillate between extremes—hope and despair, inspiration and doubt. Despite their innate strength, they may overly depend on others for validation or support, sometimes at the expense of their own goals. This arises from their deep need to connect and help others, which can leave them emotionally exhausted or vulnerable to exploitation​ [for more read Numerologist.com​ ] Being a master number, 11 carries an intense energy that can be difficult to manage. People influenced by it might feel an excessive burden to achieve greatness, leading to burnout or feelings of inadequacy. This can prevent them from realizing their full potential, as they fear taking risks or making mistakes. This can lead them to remain passive. ​[Building Beautiful Souls] Finally, the number 11 would also explain why she is only focusing on herself. Emotional intensity, indecisiveness, imbalance and duality, overwhelm and pressure reflects the grandmother’s personality, as the latter always avoids conflicts and prefers running away from reality.

And that’s how I came to the following conclusion. Season 1 stands under the color of red. Note that the halmoni is always seen wearing red or dark pink clothes in the past (chapter 48), just like Park Namwook is wearing a red t-shirt with Team Black on it. These were the vampires who were draining out their “boys”. However, in the last episode, Park Namwook is no longer wearing the red t-shirt, but a blue one. (chapter 53) Only the logo is red. (chapter 53) It is important, because it announces the manager’s resignation. He doesn’t want to become responsible for the mess. Unconsciously, he is no longer claiming to be the owner of the gym. Furthermore, notice that the grandmother desires to return to the West Coast in order to see an ocean of “fire”. (chapter 53) This shows that she is longing for warmth and red colors. Yet, the color of the sea is rather green or blue. As you can see, everything is pointing out that the couple had to overcome the antagonists from season 1, the emotional vampires, who were so close to them than none of them realized that they were the origins of their suffering. And now, if you look at my table again:

Chapter 1Chapter 1Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 20
Loan SharksPerverted Hospital DirectorHeo Namwook/ the loan shark and his minionsHeo Namwook and minionsHeo Namwook and minionsHeo NamwookLoan Shark and Perverted Hospital Director
Chapter 37Chapter 46Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49
Mysterious MFC agentHeo Namwook and minionsFirst appearance of Choi GilseokBaek Junmin’s first appearanceChoi Gilseok meeting Kim DanBaek Junmin meeting Joo Jaekyung and Director Choi switching the spray thanks to his minions

you will realize that the villains’ shades are blue, black and green. (chapter 35) In episode 16 and 17, the presence of the sun is a reference to the MMA fighter, it is announcing his arrival. This corresponds to the color I had detected with the first scheme: MFC with the blue “ring” embodies this pigment, just like the ocean. In other words, blue should be the dominant color in season 2, and in Taoism blue stands for YIN! On the other hand, Kim Dan also represents red with his name. Moreover, if you look at the numbers of the quoted episodes again, you will realize that the villains are strongly connected to the number 10 and as such one and zero. Thus Director Choi Gilseokf’s phone number is 010-1…. (chapter 46)

0: Emptiness, Neglect, and Obliteration

The number 0, often associated with nothingness and potential, has a shadowy counterpart that embodies destruction, void, and futility.

  1. Emptiness and Neglect
    • 0 represents a void—a lack of presence, empathy, or nurturing. Antagonists or villains embodying this aspect may not just harm directly but leave a gaping hole in the lives of those they affect. (chapter 10) Here, the manager showed no empathy or understanding in front of the champion. (chapter 37) He never complimented him for his hard work at all.
    • In Jinx, this could reflect the emotional neglect or apathy the antagonists or villains show, as their actions drain the main leads of energy, motivation, and a sense of self-worth.
  2. Annihilation and Destruction
    • As the symbol of “nothingness,” 0 can represent obliteration. It suggests an absence of growth, hope, or meaning, as antagonists and villains tear down rather than build up. (chapter 46) With these words, the manager creates a negative atmosphere, therefore there is no longer any trust and loyalty among the members.
    • The destructive aspect of 0 mirrors how the surrogate parents or antagonists in Jinx consume and drain the leads, leaving them emotionally barren and mentally fragmented. (chapter 10)
  3. Cycles of Futility
    • As a closed loop, 0 suggests an endless cycle, often one of despair or entrapment.
    • In the Korean Manhwa, this seems to symbolize how the protagonists are trapped in abusive dynamics with antagonists and villains (the loan sharks, director Choi, MFC and the way they treat their athletes like pawns) who repeatedly exploit and manipulate them, making escape seem impossible. The grandmother created the illusion that Kim Dan would be able to pay off the debts by working hard (chapter 18), until the champion confronted the protagonist with reality.

And if we analyze the number 46 (as a representative of 10), this is what we have:

46: Cycles of Dependence and Exploitation

  • 4 (Stability/Control) combined with 6 (Responsibility/Dependence) often represents a dynamic of obligation and control, but when tied to antagonism, it takes on a darker tone: a cycle where the protagonist is trapped in an exploitative relationship, unable to break free due to misplaced responsibility or imposed stability. Thus in episode 46 from jinx, the champion tried to express his expectations about the manager and coach (chapter 46), however Park Namwook refused to accept such a behavior from his boss. Therefore he put his pupil under pressure.
    • The surrogate parent attempted to enforce a toxic sense of responsibility (6) on the athlete, ensuring control (4) over his actions and emotions. However, the champion tried to escape from this by running away: (chapter 46) He avoided a confrontation. This number symbolizes how the lead feels burdened by obligations imposed by his oppressor, who positions himself as provider of “stability” while actually fostering dependence and draining his victim. And naturally, in the same chapter, we have a similar interaction between Heo Manwook, the minion and his hyung, the real boss: (chapter 46) Here, the director was reminding him of his mistakes and obligations. However, this time the boss chose to become proactive and responsible.

Since I linked season 1 to red, it dawned on me why Cheolmin or the perverted hospital director didn’t appear in that season. (chapter 1) (chapter 13) They are strongly intertwined with the color green and as such blue. In literature, art, and psychology, the color blue often represents calmness, loyalty, and introspection.This fits to the description made by the author concerning season 2. The latter would focus more on emotions and thoughts than on the plot. And now, it is time to reveal why in the illustration I added the number 9.

Number 9 and its significance

This number stands for “change and help”. In this part, I will only focus on the following numbers: 9, 18, 19, 27, 29, 36, 39, 45 and 49. In episode 9, the champion was asked to take care of Doc Dan. The latter needed help, for he was too drunk to return home on his own. (chapter 9) The leopard agreed and that’s how they came to argue about his home the next morning: (chapter 10)- So from 9 to 18, the story is focusing on the doctor’s home. In episode 18, Joo Jaekyung invites the poor physical therapist to his home. (chapter 18) In this episode, both main leads refuse the assistance from the other. Kim Dan is bothered that Joo Jaekyung paid off the debts, while the other dismissed the worries from the PT: (chapter 18) Then in episode 19, Joo JAekyung is not asking for his “help”, until he calls him. But even here, he is refusing to prepare his partner: (chapter 19) As for Kim Dan, the latter doesn’t feel truly needed as PT, hence he is already thinking about taking another job: (chapter 19) Then in episode 27, Kim Dan offers his assistance. (chapter 27) He encourages his VIP client to take a break by remaining by his side. However, this attempt fails, as in episode 29 , (chapter 29) the champion rejects the idea of resting for a day. Then after the incident with the article, at no moment Kim Dan offers his assistance to help the champion. He remains totally passive, (chapter 36) it shows his passivity and neglect. He doesn’t feel responsible for the champion’s career or safety. His concerns earlier were rather superficial. This explicates why he is also treated like a doll. Then in episode 39, for the first time, the doctor is requesting his help and assistance. (chapter 39) The problem is that it is related to a drug and sex. This has nothing to do with his job or career. Interesting is that in episode 45, for the first time, Joo Jaekyung voiced his needs to have him as a PT: (chapter 45). Without him, he can not do it. But here is the thing. In the locker room, the champion chose himself to treat his pain, he selected the pain relief spray over the doctor’s hands. (chapter 49) This means that in that scene, Joo Jaekyung refused to let Kim Dan treat him out of doubts and mistrust which were triggered by the manager’s words and the pictures. As you can see, the number 9 is strongly intertwined with help, but also with a change. The beginning of a new circle. Thus I am expecting in the new season, chapter 54, that for the first time, Joo Jaekyung will ask for help and support. But he can not ask Park Namwook or others from Team Black… he has only one true friend and that would be Cheolmin, unless he finds the protagonist immediately. At the same time, I would like to point out another observation. What is the opposite of 9? Naturally 6, which represents the end of a circle. And now, look at this:

Chapter 6Chapter 26Chapter 36Chapter 42Chapter 46

The end of Joo Jaekyung’s torment. He doesn’t need to chase after him.

Kim Dan is overcoming his fears. It is an allusion to Heo Manwook and his minions. On the other hand, the champion can not play with Kim Dan.

The end of a peaceful cohabitation, the return of fears from Joo Jaekyung (his jinx)
the presence of a scheme

The return of the mint-goblin, and as such the doctor’s fears (low self-esteem) At the same time, we shouldn’t overlook the presence of a third person in that flat who could appear in season 2.

The villains are exposed: they are now targeting Team Black and in particular Kim Dan.

The number 6 is strongly intertwined with regression, negative influence, schemes, antagonists and villains. Moreover, I detected a link between 6 and green/grey. That’s the reason why I am expecting more than ever in season 2, the fight between two green: nature versus money, fun versus seriousness, justice versus crimes/schemes. But in order to take place, the main couple needs to reflect about their own true desires in their life. What do they want exactly? A PT or a friend, a lover or a partner, a family or a company, justice or a scapegoat, fame or happiness?

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