Jinx: The Scent 🧴✨🌸Of The Jinx 🦈⚡☁️

It begins with smoke.
Not the scent of flowers or the sweetness of victory, but the cold breath of a machine crossing an unnamed sky. (chapter 81) No airport appears, no greeting, no applause — only movement, silent noise, and distance. The scene refuses arrival. It’s as if the air itself has become unwelcoming, unsure whether to receive or reject the traveler.

Below, the earth hides beneath a shroud of cloud, half revealing, half concealing its rivers and mountains. It is broad daylight, but only those inside the plane can see the sun. Its rays strike the cloud tops, scattering into pale reflections, almost unreachable from the world below. The light is real yet detached — dazzling, but emotionally cold. The illusion of motion comes not from the aircraft itself, which cuts the sky with mechanical steadiness, but from the slow drift of the countryside beneath — a glimmering landscape that seems to slide away on its own. The plane moves horizontally, neither ascending toward promise nor descending toward rest. It hovers in between — uncertain, as if trapped inside the very act of transition. The white smoke trailing behind is not visible, as if erased by the same sky that carried it — a trace that vanishes before it can mean anything.

How is this calm sky connected to the silence of a phone line from ten years ago? (chapter 74) What does it mean that a man who once reached for his mother’s voice is now suspended between clouds, unreachable himself? (chapter 74) Why does the same stillness that once followed a farewell now fill the air around his flight?

Both moments share the same structure of emptiness: movement without arrival, connection without recognition. Yet the meaning of that emptiness deepens when we remember that death itself is often framed as a journey. (chapter 65) Let’s not forget that the last poster of chapter 81 (chapter 81) echoes Joo Jaewoong’s burial in chapter 74. (chapter 74) In that earlier scene, the smoke rises from burning incense sticks which is linked to scent — the invisible bridge between the living and the dead. Here, it reappears as the airplane’s exhaust (chapter 81), the sterile modern echo of ritual fire. In both, the same element unites mourning and motion: smoke, a symbol that drifts, fades, and carries scent.

The father’s funeral and the champion’s flight belong to one continuous breath — the same air of transition. Each ascent, whether spiritual or mechanical, leaves behind a trace that cannot last. The scent of the jinx begins here: in this meeting of incense and engine, of devotion and pollution, where grief becomes a trail of vapor across the sky.

There is another layer to this scent. Mingwa chose the wolf to embody Joo Jaekyung — an animal torn between tenderness and hunger. In many cultures, the wolf carries the paradox of motherhood and ferocity: she nurses her young yet survives through the hunt. For such a creature, scent is language, memory, and map. It marks territory, reveals threat, and preserves kinship. Like a wolf, the champion used to live by following traces — the smell of victory, of fear, of money.

Now the trail has changed. For years, the wolf used rituals not to appease his hunger but to erase his senses — to make sure he would never taste, smell, or feel again, so that his hunger for warmth and belonging would vanish. Milk (chapter 75), perfume (chapter 75), sweat and sex (chapter 75) became instruments of anesthesia, each meant to silence the body that once betrayed him.That betrayal did not come from the body itself but from what it carried — his father’s shadow. (chapter 75) Every muscle, every breath, every instinct reminded him of the man he swore never to become. The body was a mirror of lineage, and lineage meant failure. In his dreams, that failure still reached for him: black hands emerging from the dark, the father who had lost everything. (chapter 75) The fighter calls it a “dream,” not a nightmare, because fighting was once his father’s dream — a dream of escape, of being seen, of proving that poverty was not fate. But for the son, that same dream turned into a curse. To fight was to repeat what had already destroyed the family.

Thus, he began to punish his own flesh for its resemblance to the dead. Every ritual — milk before a match, perfume after shower, sex before fighting — became an act of denial, a way to cut the bloodline out of himself. The body that once connected him to hunger and memory had to be silenced, sterilized, erased. Yet behind every gesture of control lay the same emptiness: a child’s thirst disguised as discipline. The milk that promised fulfillment was once the prize he had to steal (chapter 75), the forbidden comfort that ended in scolding. (chapter 72) When he finally received it, it was not from a mother but from the director — a man whose gift could fill the stomach but not the heart. From that day, nourishment and submission became one.

Each ritual since then has repeated that confusion. He learned to mistake obedience for care, power for affection, control for love. The milk before a match was not about luck; it was a way to silence the body that once trembled from hunger. The perfume on his neck, the sweat of victory, even the scent of sex — all were substitutes for what he never truly received: the warmth of being wanted and accepted. (chapter 72) And yet every attempt at purification only buried the rot more deeply. The more he washed, the more the stain spread inward — invisible, odorless, yet consuming.

The champion’s hickeys

Now the trail has changed. What he follows is no longer the fragrance of superstition, but the faint, human odor of the doctor. When Jaekyung presses his lips against Dan’s neck (chapter 81) — the same spot where he once sprayed his perfume (chapter 40) — it is more than desire: it is instinct, possession, and search. The gesture blurs the line between hunger and recognition, as if he were trying to inhale and keep what had always eluded him. The scent he once sought in bottles and rituals now breathes through another body, one that refuses to be contained. So when Jaekyung breathes against Dan’s skin, he is no longer trying to mask the stench of loss but to find the source of something living. The doctor’s scent does not erase hunger; it answers it. For the first time, the wolf eats without devouring.

Let’s not forget that during the Summer Night’s Dream, the wolf had already answered that silent call (chapter 44) — nuzzling the one destined to become his anchor. Jinx-philes can observe not only the presence of steam (which is similar to smoke), but also the effect of the scent. Back then, the champion had calmed down thanks to the hamster’s scent. (chapter 44) To conclude, that moment, half dream and half awakening, had already begun to rewrite the map of scent. There, the fragrance from doc Dan had triggered his appetite, hence he couldn’t restrain himself during that night. (chapter 45)

And because of that scent, the wolf will follow his loved one (chapter 65) He will make sure that doc Dan doesn’t smoke again and his scent remains pure. This signifies that the wolf will pursue its source through the smoke of deception, through the perfume of luxury and corruption. The doctor becomes both compass and contrast — the pure odor that exposes every false aroma around him. Through Dan’s scent he will breathe again—through that fragile, living fragrance the wolf begins to track the truth that stinks beneath luxury and lies.

The Plane and its Scent

In order to understand the meaning of this fleeting image (chapter 81) — a plane gliding through a noiseless sky — I had to return to an earlier flight. (chapter 36) When the champion left South Korea for the United States in episode 36, the plane glided through a void of light. There was no sky, no earth, no horizon — only a white expanse pierced by the sun’s glare. Even the boundaries of air and space seemed dissolved. The image radiated purity but felt sterile, stripped of texture. The machine was rising, not toward a destination but away from attachment itself.

That ascent not only announced the future victory, but also represented the Emperor’s ideal: perpetual motion without roots. He was a man of altitude, not of place. The whiteness surrounding the aircraft mirrored his own self-erasure — the body emptied through fasting (chapter 37), the heart disinfected of need. Hence the bed became an instrument of “torture”. The upward flight marked a beginning, yet it already smelled of exhaustion and futility. A life built on departure cannot land anywhere.

Episode 81 inverts everything. The plane is now seen from above, not below. (chapter 81) Clouds and land re-emerge, spreading like a map of memory. Gray veils hang overhead; far below, blue horizon and bright rivers glint in daylight. For the first time, the world has depth again. The point of view tells us two things immediately. First, this aircraft is descending: it is approaching foreign soil, France, a country framed by water and beautiful landscapes. Secondly, the inversion foretells the champion’s own descent — the fall of the myth into the realm of the human. It already implies the existence of a scheme and his anticipated “defeat”.

The earlier plane signified departure; this one signals arrival. What had been an escape from origin becomes a forced return to reality. The hero who once vanished into whiteness now re-enters color, gravity, and consequence. I therefore deduce that Joo Jaekyung’s past will resurface after arriving in France. (chapter 73) His origins—the father who once fought, gambled, and collapsed into addiction before dying of an overdose— will no longer remain hidden. The revelation will spread like a smell the public (Team Black) cannot ignore. Yet this descent is not disgrace alone; it is the beginning of embodiment. Exposure will give him weight. But what did the director say? (chapter 78) Through Hwang Byungchul’s blunt words, the Emperor finally realized that he possessed an identity of his own—one not confined by inheritance or shame. The insults that once defined him, (chapter 75) “smelly bastard,”dirty rat” have lost its power. What once clung to his name as odor now disperses into air. The fall will wash away the false scent of stigma and let the man emerge, bare but clean.

I come to the following deduction: the change of perspective is Mingwa’s quiet confession that the age of flight — of abstraction and denial — is over. The sky of episode 36 concealed both land and direction; the sky of episode 81 exposes them. (chapter 81) Beneath the clouds lie traces of the life he once ignored: the landlord who welcome him with toilet papers and invited him to dinner, the old coach who still mirrors his pain, the grandmother whose endurance defines family, and the doctor whose presence has become home itself. These human coordinates are his new geography.

The palette itself reinforces this shift. In America, everything dissolved into white, a color of anesthesia. Over France, tones mingle: gray above, blue below, gold reflected from the rivers. The air is alive, restless, and uncertain. Clouds thicken like unspoken doubts, yet the blue horizon opens a path. It dawned on me that Mingwa is painting the boundary between dream and danger. The gray warns of turbulence; the blue promises arrival. Between them hovers the aircraft, between illusion and embodiment — just like its passenger. The coexistence of colors and contrasts (light, cloud, turbulence) displays life! Life without pain, fear, struggles, is no life, but an illusion. At the same time, it implies the return of the protagonists’ agency. Their decisions will determine the outcome of this imminent match.

Time, too, changes nature. Both flights are bound to temporal formulas, but their logic diverges — and both are told through the doctor’s eyes. In episode 36, the line (chapter 36) emerges not from the champion’s mind but from Dan’s weary observation. It carries the cadence of someone watching life slip by from the margins, a spectator of discipline rather than its agent. The phrase, neutral on the surface, reveals quiet lethargy: days blending into one another, the monotony of service and the absence of urgency. This indicates the hamster’s distance and a certain emotional indifference toward his VIP patient. No wonder that, at the hostel, he chose the impersonal word “team” (chapter 36) instead of naming Joo Jaekyung himself. He might have stood beside the MMA fighter the entire time, yet he preferred to disappear behind collective language, as if the plural could shield him from personal involvement. It was a professional gesture, an attempt to efface the self, to stand beside the fighter without belonging to him. His role was service, not solidarity; his language confirmed distance. Thus his karma was that he got abandoned by the team after the match, while rescued by the celebrity himself!!

But in episode 81, the tone has changed. (chapter 81) The doctor’s narration “Eight days until his comeback” reveals far more than a schedule. Its tone pulses with nervous anticipation. Time, once something Dan merely endured, has regained texture. Back in chapter 36, he let the “days pass” like indistinguishable shadows — one more sign of his emotional detachment. Life moved, but he did not move with it. Now, every day counts. The number eight introduces tension, a sense of waiting and measure. He is not only aware of time; he feels it. The body trembles, breath shortens, nerves tighten. For the first time, Dan senses temporality the way athletes do: as pressure, as pulse, as future approaching.

His thought at the airport (chapter 81) translates that awareness into sensation. It’s no longer the passivity of a bystander but the heartbeat of someone invested. The count of days becomes a shared horizon between doctor and fighter, a bridge of feeling. (chapter 81) When Jaekyung exhales the same “huu,” their anxiety synchronizes, transforming fear into connection. The loop of repetition (“days passed”) has turned into a countdown of empathy (“eight days left”). Time itself has begun to belong to both of them. The same “team” has become real, but contrary to the past: there are only 2 members, Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. At the airport he wears the Team Black jacket, a subtle but deliberate signal that he has accepted inclusion. The jacket is not uniform; it is recognition. Both form 8, which is a symbol for balance and infinity.

Interesting is that this panel (chapter 81) looked like victory (due to the position of the plane) but smelled of vacancy. However, this trip was not, for the two protagonists, a symbol of rest — quite the opposite. Neither Jaekyung nor Dan ever got the chance to visit the city; the supposed journey abroad becomes another kind of confinement. (chapter 37) The others indulge in small pleasures — snacks, shopping, light rebellion — but the champion and his doctor remain trapped in routine, orbiting one another inside sterile rooms. I am suspecting that doc Dan must have bought the scarf at the airport, a small act of thoughtfulness before departure. (chapter 41) Yet the gesture, though sincere, carries a quiet irony. The scarf is printed with flowers, mostly roses, but as a piece of fabric it has neither scent nor warmth. It imitates life without containing it. What he gives her, in truth, is a copy of affection, not its essence — a bouquet that cannot breathe.

And now you may wonder how this connects to the scent of the jinx. (chapter 37) The answer lies in the contrast between the smell of life and the smell of emptiness. While others seek flavor in hot ramen or the sweetness of snacks, the champion’s room remains odorless, air-conditioned, antiseptic. Then, in the quiet of night, a faint aroma drifts toward him, the flavor of hot ramen. And now observe the progression of scents through Jinx.

Chapter 10Chapter 22Chapter 32

It traces the slow resurrection of a man who had unconsciously silenced his own senses. In chapter 10, the wolf first enters the doctor’s home and flinches even before inhaling. The moment his eyes register the dim light, the narrow hallway, the disorder, his hand rises to his nose — a movement so quick it feels primal. Only once in the room does he mutter, “It reeks in here. The overpowering stench of poverty.” He doesn’t smell first; he remembers first through visuals. The odor exists only because his past floods the scene. The sight of a modest room resurrects the atmosphere of his own childhood flat (chapter 72) — the garbage, the spoiled food, the stale air of neglect. What he truly covers is not his nose, but his fear of returning there. Later, in episode 22, when Dan cooks for him, the champion instinctively associates food with corruption: (chapter 22) Nevertheless, Jinx-philes should realize that for the first time, we had a reference to the ocean through the dishes: fish, seaweed soup. (chapter 22) Interesting is that here fish has a negative connotation: intrusion and thoughtlessness. This shows how detached the champion was from his true self: water and the ocean. Moreover, cooking, warmth, nourishment—all evoked garbage, the chaos of his first home.

The reason lies in his earliest environment. In that cramped room buried in trash, the boy who would become the Emperor once tried to survive on milk—an industrial liquid without smell or taste, the very opposite of maternal care. (chapter 72) His father’s addiction, the filth, the absence of real home made food—all merged into a single sensory nightmare. Odor became shame. Flavor became fear. So he began to build a life that denied every sense. And now, my avid readers can grasp the role of Kim Dan during season 1. It was not just to replace the sex ritual. Unaware, he had replaced the ritual with the glass of milk with his food. So at the beginning of season 2, Joo Jaekyung got to learn that his “glass of milk” (chapter 54) couldn’t nourish him. Hence he replaced it with wine for a while.

So he built a life that denied every sense. That’s why he hates flowers. However, there’s more to it. When the doctor innocently talks about a bouquet he received in episode 31 (chapter 31), Jaekyung’s reaction (chapter 31) reveals more than irritation. For him, floral scent is associated with loss. The fragrance belongs to death. The first time he truly smelled flowers was at his father’s funeral, when incense and blossoms mingled with grief. (chapter 74) Their fragrance became the perfume of loss. To his senses, flowers never meant beauty or love or nice smell; they mean burial and as such pain. Every petal recalls the suffocating smell of the funeral room, the smoke, the artificial but painful peace of goodbye.

And that is precisely where the scent of the jinx begins to unfold. The scarf’s floral pattern recalls everything artificial in both their worlds: Jaekyung’s deodorant, the perfume of fame, the grandmother’s rehearsed kindness. Each object is meant to replace something that once had a natural smell — milk, skin, sweat, breath. The airport gift thus mirrors the champion’s life of rituals: beautiful but airless, made of gestures without fragrance.

The Location And The Fall

In season 1, Mingwa already left clues about a connection between France and South Korea. (chapter 32) The blue tie contains 3 striped colors: red, white and blue, which are quite similar to French flag, though the order has been switched. Secondly, Choi Heesung purchased (chapter 32) Hermès’ item, a French company famous its bags, scarfs and perfumes. So I am quite certain that once Jinx-philes discovered the identity of the next fighter (chapter 81) and saw the plane, they must have jumped to the conclusion that the next fight will take place in Paris! But France is more just than the capital. This country is called the Hexagon due to its form, and this name stands in opposition to the MMA ring, which is an octagon! (chapter 40) Interesting is that the team at the airport is composed of 6 people. (chapter 81) So we could say that despite the disadvantage being in a foreign country, they are “equal”, 6 colors against the team from the Hexagon, the blue light from the MMA ring. But let’s return our attention to Paris. The latter is widely recognized as the symbol of love, the global center for fashion, art, and stardom. The city has a deep historical connection to these fields, being the birthplace of haute couture and home to many of the world’s leading fashion houses and luxury conglomerates. Its cultural scene is equally rich, with a long history as a hub for artists and a more recent reputation for being a center for music and film stars. However, the image with the landing plane is actually revealing the truth. (chapter 81) There are no mountain close to Paris, the river La Seine is much smaller… Finally, the airport doesn’t look like Airport Paris – Charles de Gaulle, (chapter 81) for the hallway is much smaller and it is not crowded.

Finally, observe the vocabulary of the manager: “breeze” (chapter 81) and “splash” (chapter 81). They let transpire the presence of wind and water suggesting the presence of the sea. Thus, I deduce that they landed near the sea. And if one looks again at the image of the plane (chapter 81), the blue at the horizon seems to confirm this intuition: the aircraft is gradually descending toward the coast, not the capital. So for me, the destination is not Paris — the city of revolution and political upheaval representing popular sovereignty, as the schemers are planning a counter-revolution. They stand for conservatism and money. My theory is that this plane is arriving in the South of France, most likely Cannes, where spectacle and wealth converge. But there exists another reason for this assumption. Do you remember where the physical therapist witnessed the match between the Emperor and Randy Booker? It was in Busan, a city situated in the South of South Korea, a city closed to the ocean. (chapter 14) Here, exactly like in the States, his trip to Busan never gave him the opportunity to visit the city and the beach, exactly like the athlete. The next airport to Cannes is Nice- Côte d’Azur and it looks more like the one in the Manhwa. Furthermore, the South of France has a milder climate in the fall, hence it is still possible to swim in September. Besides, in my last essay, I had connected the champion to Bruce Lee and water: Finally, Naturally, here I could be wrong with Cannes. Nevertheless, Cannes, with its glittering shorelines and film festival glamour, symbolizes the marriage of money (millionaires, yachts) and illusion — the theater of appearances. It is where contracts are made, where bodies are displayed, traded, and consumed through the gaze, the very economy that has always governed the champion’s existence. The wolf, once born among garbage and hunger, now finds himself surrounded by luxury, in a world perfumed with artificial success. Yet beneath the surface of that “breeze” and “splash” lingers the scent of corruption. The coastal light hides what the smoke once revealed: exploitation, manipulation, and the unspoken violence of commerce.

And yet, the irony is striking. The Côte d’Azur, world-famous for its vivid palette and sensual abundance — the lavender fields, the herbs of Provence, the shimmer of olive trees, the salt air heavy with Mediterranean fragrance — stands in perfect contrast to the sterile, monochrome world the two protagonists once inhabited in the seaside town. There, the ocean had no scent (chapter 59); silence had replaced air; life was drained of flavor. None of them truly enjoyed the nature: the ocean or the mountain. The seaside town was strongly intertwined with work (chapter 77) or danger. Then, when they returned to that place, their time was limited to visit the grandmother and the landlord. (chapter 81) They had no time to walk through the woods or visit the hills. They had no time for themselves. Consequently, I believe that in The French Riviera, the two of them will discover “savoir vivre”. Everything breathes, glows, and stirs. It is a land overflowing with color, aroma, and taste — precisely the senses that the wolf had long sought to erase through ritual. Doc Dan had led a similar life too, dedicated to his grandmother and work. If they are close to the sea, they might decide to walk on the beach together.

And if my theory is correct, then the choice of Cannes would not be accidental but allegorical. While on one hand, it marks a return to the emperor’s original curse — being admired and used at the same time, it announces an imminent change: his emancipation, for the villains have planned to destroy him. The private match organized there recalls the old underground fights from the Shotgun arc, only now cloaked in legitimacy and wealth. The arena has changed, but the principle remains: rich spectators watching a man’s body perform until exhaustion, while those in charge profit from his pain. And because of his lineage, they could still look down on him. Despite his fame and fortune, the champion does not truly belong among them. To the powerful, he is entertainment — a body to be wagered upon, not an equal at the table.

Look again at this panel. First, you can detect behind the champion the reflection of water, another clue that the protagonist will shine next to the sea. Moreover, it also indicates that doc Dan’s dream is related to water. Furthermore it is not a costume he wears, but an image imagined for him (chapter 32) — the doctor’s vision of what the wolf could become. He doesn’t see the origins of the athlete, but his success: he is not only a self-made man but an artist, a star. The three-striped tie, reminiscent of American designer Thom Browne’s refined style, evokes order, discipline, and self-respect: qualities the doctor unconsciously longs to see replace the chaos of ritual and fight. In that imagined world, Jaekyung is not an object but a person, an artist, a real VIP — no longer the Emperor of violence, but a man capable of standing among other celebrities without fear or shame.

And here, I couldn’t help myself thinking of the movie The French Connection, the parallel deepens. The French Connection (1971) is a crime thriller directed by William Friedkin, inspired by real events. It follows two New York detectives, led by the obsessive Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle, as they uncover an international heroin-smuggling operation linking France and the United States. The film contrasts gritty realism with moral ambiguity, exposing how obsession and corruption blur the line between justice and criminality. That film, too, revolved around illusion and desire — the traffic between authenticity and disguise. The “connection” was both criminal and psychological, exposing how corruption travels unseen beneath surfaces of elegance. Here, the same word gains new meaning: the false connections built on money and fame will give way to a human one, forged through care, scent, and trust.

And now, the reason for setting the match in France becomes clearer. The CEO could no longer exploit the United States (chapter 69); the scandal there had linked the previous incident to the infiltration of a Korean gang. The American branch was compromised, its credibility tainted. France, on the other hand, offers a mask of neutrality — refinement, culture, and distance from scandal. By choosing it, they manufacture the illusion of glamour and innocence, pretending that Baek Junmin and his former hyungs have nothing to do with the coming event.

But the choice of France also hides a darker lineage. One only has to look back to Thailand (chapter 69), where Baek Junmin once fought for the championship belt. Thailand in Jinx is not a paradise but a mirror of corruption — the place where victory turns into prostitution, where the body becomes currency. There, the Shotgun won a crown but not respect; his triumph was drenched in manipulation, spectacle, and moral decay. He was admired by no one, celebrated by ghosts.

Thailand thus stands as the antithesis of recognition. It is the kingdom of false applause, the shadow-market of sport where the price of glory is humiliation. If France embodies elegance masking corruption, Thailand embodies corruption stripped of its mask. Both belong to the same chain of deceit — one refined, the other raw. Between them stretches the moral geography of Jinx: America (illusion of success), Thailand (the sale of the body), and now France (the stage of reckoning). Baek Junmin, out of jealousy, wants Joo Jaekyung to make a worse experience, to be exploited, humiliated,, discarded and forgotten, just as he once was. His wish is not for justice but for repetition: the recycling of pain. Despite his title in Thailand, he still feels unrecognized. He now wants the Emperor to taste the same degradation under the polished surface of France. What he endured in the raw heat of corruption, Jaekyung must suffer in the refined chill of sophistication. He needs to be reminded of his true origins.

Junmin’s resentment is not born merely from defeat but from invisibility. His triumph brought no admiration, no genuine acknowledgment. The crowd that watched him fight was faceless, bought, indifferent. Hence he is not named as “champion” at the restaurant. (chapter 69) He was crowned, yet unseen. In his bitterness, he mistakes vengeance for validation. If Jaekyung falls publicly, perhaps the Shotgun’s own shame will finally be understood. Thus, France becomes his stage of revenge — not through direct confrontation, but through orchestration. The game he once lost in Thailand, he now rewrites from the shadows.

But this repetition will not go as he imagines. The irony of the French Connection lies precisely there: the traffickers think they control the route, unaware that the real transformation is happening within the travelers themselves. The wolf, who once lived by rituals of survival, will now breathe a different air — one that carries both danger and redemption.

While the schemers imagine they are about to succeed and ruin the champion for good, I am expecting the opposite, as they form now a team. Immersed in an environment so rich in colors, fragrances, and tastes (which would be similar to Thailand), Joo Jaekyung and doc Dan may come to enjoy the very senses they both buried to survive. The air of the Riviera — fragrant, tangible, and alive — could become the breath that finally releases him from his gilded cage and fulfills, at last, the doctor’s unspoken vision.

The Airport as threshold

In episode 36 (chapter 36), the transition from flight to arrival unfolds with seamless precision: no airport, no customs, no luggage — only the honk of city traffic and the flags fluttering over a hotel entrance. Everything about that journey screams logistics. It was a corporate trip, arranged, timed, and contained. The athletes passed through invisible gates, their movement stripped of individuality. The champion, like cargo, was transported rather than welcomed. His arrival, though triumphant (chapter 36), was sterile — as if success itself had been reduced to a schedule.

By contrast, episode 81 opens the gates. The author deliberately inserts an airport scene (chapter 81). Airports are spaces of suspension, places where one stands between departure and arrival, past and future. They symbolize journeys, transitions, and connections, representing not only physical travel but also the passage between inner states of being. They are gateways to new experiences, opportunities, and, at times, spiritual awakenings.

That is precisely why we find the champion pausing in quiet reflection. (chapter 81) For a brief moment, he seems to meditate — neither fighter nor celebrity, simply a man caught in the stillness of transition. The gesture of breathing, the soft “Huu,” carries profound significance. It evokes purification, the act of expelling the stale air of superstition, trauma, and fear. What leaves his lungs are not only bad thoughts but remnants of the “jinx” itself — the invisible poison that once ruled his life.

The absence of his gaze does not denote blindness but introspection. His closed eyes signal a shift from vigilance to awareness, from the need to control to the capacity to feel. For the first time, the Emperor does not seek omens outside himself; he listens inwardly, acknowledging uncertainty, fragility, and the quiet pulse of change. In that single exhale, the wolf begins to shed his curse — not through combat or conquest, but through the simplest act of all: breathing. That’s why he looks so determined after this short break. (chapter 81)

And amid that uncertainty, one sound cuts through the sterile air: rattle.

(chapter 81) The suitcase becomes the true protagonist of this threshold. In that small vibration lies all the instability the white air once denied. It is his portable home, his compressed past, the fragile proof that he finally has something to lose. In the earlier arc, he could have vanished mid-flight and no one would have noticed; now, if the suitcase disappears, another heart will break. That difference measures his evolution. Yet it also marks new vulnerability: any hand can touch what he carries.

Like the wardrobe (chapter 41) and the wedding cabinet (chapter 80) before it, the suitcase belongs to the same symbolic lineage. It is the container of intimacy — filled with clothes, precious items like pictures or books, with the silent evidence of presence. But unlike its predecessors, it moves. The wardrobe once stood still, rooted in the domestic; the wedding cabinet invited intrusion within a private world, as it was once discarded. The suitcase, however, carries that vulnerability into the public realm. It is exposure on wheels — the private made portable. (chapter 81)

The object that symbolizes belonging also invites trespass. It holds what makes a person recognizable — garments, scents, textures — yet it can be opened, inspected, or stolen. That possibility haunts the scene. The suitcase is both protection and temptation, security and risk. Its rattle echoes the heartbeat of transition itself: the trembling awareness that what is finally one’s own can still be taken away. And here comes my next question: Whose suitcase is it? One might say, the champion’s naturally. If so, this signifies that in the suitcase, he placed the birthday card and the key chain (chapter 81) (chapter 81) and Kim Dan has still no idea that the athlete has kept them like cherished relics. He might have placed the notebook from Hwang Byungchul as well. However, the person carrying the suitcase is the manager: (chapter 81), while Yosep is pushing a card with the other luggage. By separating one suitcase from the others, the beholder can detect that Park Namwook is separating not only himself from the team, but also his “boy”, if he is indeed carrying his suitcase.

In that sense, the airport does not replace the hotel as a site of intrusion but extends it. If the manager were to open the suitcase by mistake and discover the physical therapist’s birthday card (chapter 55), where he expressed his desire to work for Joo Jaekyung for a long time. What would be the manager’s reaction, when he recalls this incident with the switched spray and Doc Dan’s sudden departure? Moreover, we have here “erased words”: to be ho… The timing of the discovery is really important. This could generate some tension and confrontation between the manager and the physical therapist. Besides, such a birthday card could generate negative feelings (like jealousy), Kim Dan is gradually taking more and more place in the athlete’s life. The violation that once occurred behind closed doors (the penthouse) now could happen in plain sight. The line between private and public collapses, just as the boundary between success and loss blurs.

Secondly, the scene at the airport could actually announces that the team will have some trouble at the hotel… Let’s not forget that in the States, Joo Jaekyung had to argue with one of the local coaches, probably because they needed a place to train: (chapter 37). So when the manager says this, (chapter 81), he is thinking, everything has been well planned and prepared. He has nothing to do, he can relax… and as such he is on “vacation” like in the States. Thus I deduce that the airport has a different signification for the manager: he is about to get confronted with reality.

The Birth of New Rituals

Until now, the champion’s rituals had been prisons disguised as protection. Each one — milk, perfume, sweat, sex — served to silence what his senses once knew. They were mechanical repetitions of comfort that had long since lost their source. But episode 81 quietly introduces a new vocabulary of intimacy: paper, metal, ink, and touch. The birthday card and the key chain, two small, ordinary gifts, begin to form a new scripture (chapter 81) — a Bible of another kind, not written in divine authority but in human handwriting. They contain no promise of victory, only the trace of another person’s care. His words represent now his motivation to win doc Dan’s heart.

The card is a voice materialized, the first object that speaks about dreams and wishes without demanding. IT is not about making history. When he opens it, he does not perform a ritual; he reads. And that simple act of reading — eyes moving line by line across words written for him — marks a profound shift. For the first time, his energy moves inward, not outward. Reading requires stillness, patience, trust that meaning will come. It is an act of surrender disguised as concentration. What once was sweat and breath now becomes quiet and language.

And this scene reminded me of the hyung’s comment: (chapter 75) While he was sick, he could recall this scene. (chapter 75) where the fighter could stay focused, though he was surrounded by noise and people. The advice had seemed trivial, when first given. Now it re-emerges as revelation. The emperor, once incapable of rest, now reads (chapter 81) beside someone who represents safety. The book becomes a bridge between wakefulness and sleep, a ritual that does not erase consciousness but calms it. Where his earlier practices sought to block sensation, this one restores it.

The birthday card and key chain together form a new kind of talisman. They do not protect him through superstition but through memory. One he carries near his heart; the other, in his hand. The materials themselves — paper and metal — symbolize fragility and endurance. (chapter 81) The paper bends, absorbs scent, bears traces of fingers and warmth; the metal resists, reflects light, carries weight. Together they represent the balance between tenderness and strength — precisely what his life has lacked. In contrast to the mechanical milk and odorless perfume, these objects are human, imperfect, touchable.

It dawned on me that these small tokens might become the new Bible for Joo Jaekyung. A Bible not of laws but of gestures, recording moments of real connection. Every page, every object carries a commandment: Breathe. Dream. Gratitude. Trust. Through them, the wolf learns to replace fear with curiosity, repetition with attention.

What makes this transformation more poignant is that it grows in the shadow of the oldest absence — the mother. For years, the wolf’s hunger had another name: longing for a touch that never truly existed. The embrace of the mother (chapter 73), which should have offered nourishment, attention and peace, had been replaced by absence and deceit. Her warmth was an illusion, a posture mimicked but never felt.

That embrace — the promise of milk, scent, warmth and safety — is the first lie he ever believed. The hug is strongly linked to the breast and breastfeeding. I doubt, his mother ever did such a thing. Thus it is no coincidence that later he had to steal milk to feed himself. Later, the director’s milk replaced hers: tasteless, industrial, stripped of scent. It filled the stomach but not the soul. From that moment on, he learned that comfort was conditional and care transactional. He mistook control for love because that was all love had ever resembled.

Joo Jaekyung doesn’t even remember his mother has ever bought clothes for him. (chapter 80) And here, I had imagined that the mother had offered this t-shirt as a birthday present.

Behind the father’s ghost, therefore, hides the true phantom — the mother. Her absence shaped his rage more than her presence ever could have. Let’s not forget that Joo Jaewoong’s resent and mockery toward the champion were triggered by the betrayal of the wife. Secondly, when the father died, she showed no feelings or concerns for Joo Jaekyung. He was the only one who was forced to carry the memory of his father and family. With her abandonment, she pushed him to never “forget” the father. However, since Joo Jaewoong had always been harsh and resentful toward his son, the latter could only repress him. The mother had withdrawn not only her body but also her sincerity. She had long cut off ties with Joo Jaekyung, but deceived him by giving him a phone number. Her last gesture was a symbol of infinite delay — a connection that could ring but never answer. (chapter 72) Each call was a prayer cast into emptiness, the sound of longing echoing against the wall of indifference. She taught him to expect nothing from tenderness. she had implied that she was weak, a victim of the husband’s tyranny, while she pushed the young boy to become a parent: cleaning the house, working, earning money. Her “warmth” had been performance; her concern, deception.

I come to the following deduction: she never gave him a teddy bear or any toy. The reason is not poverty but intention. The child himself had become her only comfort, her shield and excuse against the husband’s failure and disillusion. Instead of protecting her little boy, she used his body as a barrier, turning him into both witness and defense. This explains why, in his later memories, the room contains no bed of his own, no trace of play, not even a corner that belongs to him. (chapter 72) He did not sleep like a child but like an object kept near for safety. The woman lying beside him was a mother in name only — emotionally distant, physically present. No stroke, no kiss, hence the boy had to clinch onto her. (chapter 73) Her warmth was strategic, not maternal.The child might have slept next to her in the same room, she was like a stranger to him, similar to this: (chapter 78), without the good night! That missing intimacy was not a void but a distortion — a tenderness twisted into survival. The mother’s touch, meant to console, existed only to protect herself. She kept the child close not out of affection but out of anxieties and resent, turning him into a living barrier between her and the man she resented. What he experienced as warmth was, in truth, defense and rejection; what seemed like closeness was the choreography of avoidance. Hence she never looked at her child. The body that should have been cradled for its own sake was held as cover, its value defined by its usefulness.

From that confusion emerged the adult’s crisis: he could no longer tell care from control. The gestures of intimacy, once poisoned by self-interest, became impossible to trust. Every caress felt like potential deceit, every act of closeness a prelude to betrayal. This is why, later, the man built his life upon rituals — not to find comfort, but to contain danger. Each ritual became a kind of armor, repeating the same logic his mother had taught him: proximity without safety, touch without love.

Now, for the first time, another presence enters that space. That’s doc Dan. He had to replace not only the father, but the mother. Thus the champion sucked his nipples: (chapter 29) which reminds us of breastfeeding. And now, look at the embrace in the swimming pool: (chapter 80). The hamster was imitating the behavior of the little Jaekyung in the past, clinching onto the “parent” like his life depended on him. But how did the athlete react to this embrace? He looked at his fated partner (chapter 80) and got all warm and fuzzy by looking at him: (chapter 81) A sign that the mother had never reacted the way her son is doing now, the feel to kiss the loved one! The problem is that in the swimming pool, the doctor’s scent and taste are covered by chlorine. (chapter 81) The doctor’s nearness on the couch recreates the missing scene — not through erotic intensity but through quiet continuity. (chapter 81) The wolf falls asleep next to someone, not on top of or apart from them. That small preposition — next to — carries the weight of redemption. The couch, once a site of violation (chapter 61) or solitude, becomes again what it was meant to be: a place of rest and tenderness. Thus he touches his fated partner’s legs over the cover, showing his care and respect. (chapter 81)

By acting like a responsible adult and mother full of gentleness and attention (chapter 81), he can recognize the false nature of his mother’s affection. What she offered was conditional, deceptive and self-centered; what the doctor gives is ordinary and consistent. No grand gestures, no promises — only presence. The doctor does not rehearse concern; he lives it through routine. And this ordinariness, paradoxically, becomes sacred. It was, as if the athlete was treating his own inner child through the physical therapist.

Touch, once an instrument of domination, turns back into a language of reassurance. The warmth of proximity (chapter 81) reactivates a sensory world the fighter had buried: the rustle of sheets, the rhythm of another person’s breathing, the faint scent of human skin. All the senses that the old rituals sought to erase now return — not as overwhelming floods but as quiet reminders that he is alive and no longer alone.

The breathing motif continues here. The earlier “Huu” (chapter 81) that marked his introspection at the airport now finds completion in shared respiration. (chapter 81) Two lungs exhale into the same night; the air that once poisoned him becomes communal. The act of breathing, once an attempt to purge, turns into a sign of harmony.

From this point on, every ritual he creates will carry an echo of this night. (chapter 81) — of reading, of calm, of nearness. The objects (card, keychain, book) become extensions of that experience. They are reminders that comfort does not depend on superstition but on memory and connection. They mark the rebirth of ritual as choice, not compulsion. Moreover, the couch becomes a place for rest and intimacy, the opposite to this scene: (chapter 37)

And this brings me back to the nameless and faceless mother. In a bitter twist, Joo Jaewoong was right in one aspect: (chapter 73): she thought she could become somebody else, but she never truly left. The woman may have escaped the home physically and socially, but she remains chained to it in spirit. How so? Because she cannot erase the child who once called her eomma. No matter how far she runs, Joo Jaekyung’s existence anchors her to the very life she tried to abandon.

Every denial she utters — every silence, every unanswered call — only deepens that chain. Hence she made this request: (chapter 74) At this moment, the page itself turns black, veined with smoky whorls of gray — as though her words had burned into the air rather than spoken. “I can’t live with you… please understand… let’s just go our separate ways.” The sentences rise like vapors, leaving behind the faint residue of a scent that refuses to vanish. This visual texture — half smoke, half ink — captures her true condition: she dissolves herself with every attempt at escape.

The mother’s rejection does not erase her presence; it transforms it into something atmospheric — invisible, invasive, impossible to contain. She becomes the ghost that still clings to the son’s breath, the odor that lingers in every space he enters. In that sense, her words are not final but volatile: they fill the air like perfume and smoke, leaving behind confusion between comfort and suffocation. The same element that once linked incense to mourning now binds her denial to memory. Her refusal to recognize him is not freedom but recoil; it keeps her frozen in the same emotional geography as the husband she despised. By cutting ties, she believed she could reinvent herself, but her disappearance became another form of captivity — the captivity of guilt, of fear, of unresolved motherhood. Under this light, you comprehend why I added a woman with clothes in the illustration. France itself mirrors her — beautiful, perfumed, wrapped in silk and secrecy. She definitely climbed the social ladders through her second marriage, hence she could offer toys to her second son. The nation of couture and fragrance becomes the stage for the mother’s unmasking. Once the name of Joo Jaewoong rises again, questions about her will inevitably follow. And here, she can no longer hide behind silence or excuses. The myth of refinement — both hers and France’s — collapses under the weight of exposure.

The woman who once fled to preserve her image (a victim of abuse, who couldn’t accept her husband’s choices) will now confront the reflection she abandoned: the son who embodies everything she tried to forget. France, the country of elegance, is also the country of appearances. In the 18th Century, the king and the nobility barely took baths, they relied on scent to mask their dirtiness. It is the perfect mirror for her story — beauty masking decay, luxury concealing guilt. The garbage left in the home is a heritage from the mother (chapter 72)

She carries Joo Jaekyung’s name in absence. The facelessness that once belonged to the child now belongs to her. In that reversal, the curse continues: both are trapped by the same invisibility, mother and son reflecting each other’s wounds across distance. And when he next confronts the ghost of his mother, the recognition will be complete. He will finally understand that the real betrayal was not abandonment alone, but false love — the performance of care without its substance. Thanks to his fated partner, he is learning to understand his feelings better and to improve his vocabulary. So he will be able to call things by its true name. Moreover, I am suspecting that doc Dan’s mother will serve as a counter-example. In discovering this truth, Joo Jaekyung will be able to free himself from this so-called love. He will no longer chase the illusion of her warmth; he will cease mistaking submission for affection. The warmth he sought was never hers to give. He will be able to move on and create his own home.

Doc Dan’s presence redefines it. His calm attention, his patience, his refusal to dramatize care — all these form a new maternal rhythm, one that heals without pretending to. Through the doctor, the wolf experiences what the mother only feigned: the safety of reciprocity. (chapter 73) And in that exchange, the jinx finally begins to dissolve.

Thus, new rituals are born — quiet, tangible, human. They don’t require smoke, nor scent, nor spectacle. Only the soft flick of a page, the weight of a key chain, the memory of someone’s voice and embrace. In those gestures, Joo Jaekyung rediscovers the senses his trauma had silenced. He no longer erases the world; he learns to breathe it in.

PS: Since the match takes place in 8 days (chapter 81) , it signifies that doc Dan and Joo Jaekyung won’t be able to visit the landlord and the halmoni like they did in the past. Moreover, I am expecting a new incident. All this could affect the grandmother’s health.

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: Behind The Emp’s Shadow 😶‍🌫️👻

First of all, I would like to thank my new readers from China. 😍 Nowadays, my blog is exploding again thanks to them.

The Poster as a Manifesto of Shadows and Smoke

When I first saw the new promotional image titled “The Return of the Emp”, I had to pause. Something in it refused to make sense — or perhaps, it made too much sense. Here stands the celebrity fighter alone, shirtless, his upper body carved out of darkness, while a faint cloud floats behind him accompanied by a hidden spotlight. Beneath him glows the number 317, a detail too deliberate to be accidental. And yet, where is the opponent? Every previous MFC poster — from Randy Booker’s green inferno (chapter 13) (chapter 40) to Baek Junmin’s red blaze (chapter 48) — had mirrored faces, two bodies, two lights. This time, there is only one. The duel has vanished. What remains looks less like a fight and more like a myth in the making. (chapter 81)

So I began to wonder, my fellow Jinx-lovers, who made this image? One might reply, of course, the marketing branch of MFC, eager to sell the comeback of their most profitable star. And yet, something doesn’t add up. Unlike the posters for Randy Booker (chapter 13) or Dominic Hill (chapter 40), this one shows no date, no place, no trace of logistics (no TV diffusion like in the States “On PPV”). Only a face, a body, a void. Why would MFC release such an abstract announcement, stripped of all practical information? Why design such a poster which makes this event look more like a secret rendez-vous?

At that point, another possibility emerged. Perhaps this is not merely MFC’s doing but Mingwa’s own design — a deliberate distortion, letting fiction expose the machinery that feeds it. The result, I believe, is an image that speaks in two voices at once: one belonging to the league’s publicity team, and the other to the storyteller who knows what must eventually rise from the smoke. But I am suspecting a third voice hiding behind MFC which I will reveal below.

But the first mystery is not the smoke or the color. It is the absence of Arnaud Gabriel, the French kickboxer (chapter 81) chosen to face the Emperor. According to Oh Daehyun, this man is fighting for the title of the hottest male athlete in the world. (chapter 81) So why is he not placed in the poster? Does he fear comparison — or has someone decided that no comparison should be allowed? Each missing element feels intentional — the kind of silence that makes the viewer uneasy, as though something essential was being hidden in plain sight. (chapter 81)

Then there is the pose — a quiet rupture in Mingwa’s visual language. Instead of the usual mirrored confrontation, the camera turns entirely toward the champion, revealing the torso and the raised fist. The MMA star faces not his rival, but the audience itself, as if daring the beholder to guess what has changed. For once, no familiar emblems frame him — no belt, no symmetry, only a body standing between light and smoke. Why this exposure now, and what does it conceal?

The light, too, behaves differently. In earlier posters, illumination came from behind (chapter 13) or within (chapter 48) — from the collision of two forces. Here, the glow seems to rise from below, slightly to the right, and yet the source remains unseen. Why there, and why invisible? What are we supposed to read in that slanted brightness — revelation or exposure, ascension or downfall?

And finally, the text itself: “The Return of the Emp.” (chapter 81) For the first time, words intrude upon the image — not just names, but a sentence, an unfinished promise. “Emp”: a fragment of Emperor, a crown cut short. (chapter 14) Why is there this abbreviation? Why does the image proclaim a return while simultaneously concealing the full title? What does it signify?

These details — the number 317, the smoke, the missing rival, the hidden light, the fractured title — weave a code of absence and expectation. They refuse to settle into one meaning, riddles disguised as design choices. From these visual clues, my previous theory seems to be corroborated: this event doesn’t announce the glorious comeback it pretends to be, but a carefully staged trap. However, there is more to it. The longer I examine the composition (chapter 81) — the fist aimed at the viewer, the smoke curling like a stage curtain, the void where the opponent should stand — the clearer it becomes that this poster already sketches the scene of the athlete’s anticipated demise. It reveals not just a fight, but where and how the next act will unfold 😲— before an audience that may not be what it seems.

The Absent Rival – Arnaud Gabriel and the Art of the Mask

Every puzzle begins with a missing face. And here, the first enigma is Arnaud Gabriel himself (chapter 81) — the man selected to stand against the Emperor, yet nowhere to be seen. Why choose him, a French fighter known less for his record than for his looks? (chapter 40) Where every previous MFC announcement balanced two visages, two auras, two lights, this one shows only the wolf. The French kickboxer has been erased before the match even begins. (chapter 81)

(chapter 81) According to Oh Daehyun, his goal is not victory but visibility — to be crowned the hottest male athlete. (chapter 81) That title alone tells us everything about his mindset. For Arnaud, competition is not victory but exhibition. His sport is not combat; it is choreography. Every gesture (the smile, the wink, the tilt of his head) (chapter 81) seems designed for the lens rather than the opponent.

And perhaps that is precisely why he was chosen. A kickboxer fights with distance. (chapter 81) His weapon is reach, not contact — the opposite of boxing, where rhythm and proximity create truth. Arnaud’s martial art allows him to attack without connection, to strike without touching — the perfect metaphor for a system built on façade. In this sense, he does not merely fight; he performs the idea of fighting. For him, combat is not confrontation but more dance, not survival but fun. It is sparring in its purest, most aesthetic form — controlled, rhythmic, pleasing to the eye. Every kick and grin seems rehearsed to delight the crowd.

His entire persona seems imported from the cinema rather than the cage. One cannot help but think of Jean-Claude Van Damme, the Belgian kickboxer and martial artist turned movie icon, whose blend of violence and grace transformed the fight into spectacle. Like Van Damme, Arnaud Gabriel stands at the crossroads between athlete and actor — between authenticity and artifice. And now, you comprehend why certain readers felt a connection between this fighter and Choi Heesung: (chapter 30) The latter had to learn fighting in order to play his role in the drama Extreme Worlds (chapter 29).

The fighter’s origin deepens this impression: France. The latter is famous for the spirit of savoir vivre — the art of living well, of savoring the moment. “Savoir vivre” is definitely part of his professional philosophy. Arnaud’s smile proclaims respect, pleasure and not perseverance or Schadenfreude. (chapter 81) He embodies a hedonism of the ring, a man who delights in admiration more than victory. Yet beneath the charm lies subtle anxiety. The beard that frames his grin functions as disguise — not to conceal aging, but to simulate experience, to appear older, to lend him a gravitas he has not earned. It is artifice masquerading as mastery.

It is funny, because in the analysis I had predicted that the match would take place in Europe. However, what my avid readers don’t know is that I was hesitating between France and Germany because of the desserts. And guess what… not only my prediction was proven correct, but also my hesitation. Why? Arnaud is a French name but its origins are Germanic. Arnaud, from arn (eagle) and wald (rule), means “he who rules like an eagle.” His name carries a certain arrogance. A creature of height and distance, he surveys from above, untouched by the chaos below. Gabriel, the angelic messenger, completes the illusion: an eagle crowned with divinity, a herald of light who never lands. Together they form the symbol of a man who rules through air — dazzling, distant, and hollow. Under this perspective, the smoke behind the champion could be interpreted as a veiled reference to Arnaud Gabriel. (chapter 81) He could attack him from behind or above. The smoke lingers behind both the title and the wolf, hinting that this elegant newcomer may have been placed as a pawn — not to challenge the champion’s skill, but to block his return to the title of Emperor. Consequently, he represents a real threat to Joo Jaekyung, while on the surface he looks harmless. That’s why for Park Namwook, Arnaud Gabriel seems to be an easy rival. No wonder why he described this encounter as a breeze (air element) (chapter 81), while in reality a “storm” is actually coming.

But in Jinx, there exists another eagle in the sky: Oh Daehyun. (chapter 8) His eagle is spreading his wings in front of his god, the sun, attempting to fly closer to the sun. According to me, Joo Jaekyung is the sun. This explains the loyalty of this purple belt fighter toward the protagonist!

Because of these parallels, I couldn’t help myself envisaging this possibility that Oh Daehyun ends up facing the other eagle. And that’s how the “novice” would get his breakthrough. (chapter 47) But that’s one possibility among others, one thing is sure. Oh Daehyun will play an important part during their stay in France.

And yet, for all this lightness, the Frenchman is nowhere to be seen. (chapter 81) His absence from the poster betrays the truth: he is not a rival but a tool. MFC’s marketing machine uses him as a prop, an emblem of beauty to bait the audience, to divert attention. The company doesn’t need his fists — only his face — and even that, now, has been erased. His omission signals that the game is fixed before it begins. Yes, the poster is implying the existence of a rigged match.

The same is true for the missing championship belt. (chapter 13) Once gleaming over the champion’s shoulder — as in the poster with Randy Booker — it has vanished. It absence in the fight against Baek Junmin revealed (chapter 48) MFC’s true intentions. The tie had long been decided in order to create a smooth transition. MFC’s goal becomes clear: to take away the belt and give it to someone else, while appearing clean. The wolf’s success represented a threat to their illegal business (gambling and money laundering). (chapter 46) People would bet on him and win… they needed him to lose and break his “lucky streak”. In other words, the organization betrayed the body they once sold. They had prepared the fall long before the injury, the surgery, or the suspension. But their plan failed. Despite every setback, the wolf remained beloved at home. People still admired him, not for the trophies, but for his kindness (chapter 62), humility and strength (chapter 62) In other words, what the champion did in the seaside town had a huge impact in his life and world. He lingered in the hearts of those he touched. He was not a fallen idol, nor a forgotten champion, but a living memory — proof that integrity leaves deeper marks than victory ever could. To conclude, his fame no longer comes from spectacle only but also from empathy and presence — from the very qualities the schemers and media system fail to grasp.

And so the game shifts. What cannot be destroyed by defeat will be targeted through image. (chapter 81) The new battlefield is the face. Under this light, Jinx-philes will grasp why the agents from the Entertainment agency were so zealous in defending the star’s reputation. If he were to lose his good looks, they would lose one of their most profitable clients. (chapter 81) They hadn’t intervened when he was suspended or stripped of brand value — back then, he was still only a fighter, not a product. The entertainment world belongs to artists, not athletes. In truth, the celebrity now stands between two worlds: the ring and the stage, the punch and the pose, the man and the myth. If the schemers cannot ruin his record, they will try to ruin his reflection.

Here, I suspect, lies the invisible hand of Baek Junmin — the man whose own face was once disfigured (chapter 52), whose envy of beauty turned into a creed. Imagine this. Now he holds the championship belt, yet no one admires him. His ruined face became the excuse for his bitterness, (chapter 52) and his rival the embodiment of everything he lost. He had to flee to Thailand to claim glory and admiration (chapter 69), only to discover that ownership without recognition is hollow. Even with the title, his name barely circulates in the media. (chapter 77) MFC can not promote him so easily, as his title could get questioned. He remains unseen — a champion without a face.

If Baek Junmin cannot be admired, he will annihilate admiration itself. (chapter 81) To him, visibility has become an offense. And this poster lets that mindset leak through. His presence is everywhere — not in the body of the opponent, but in the photograph chosen, in the smoke curling behind the champion, and in the raised fist, the same one that once struck him down. (chapter 52) In the past, his insult (chapter 74) merged anger with heat; now that very “hotness” materializes in the media and poster as smoke, an image of resentment turned into atmosphere. (chapter 81)

And yet, the smoke behind the celebrity’s silhouette may carry another, more literal association — one tied to France itself. (chapter 81)

The old blue packs of Gauloises Caporal, adorned with a winged helmet, were once the emblem of French masculinity and freedom — a breath of rebellion. “Gauloises,” meaning “Gallic,” evokes both the air of the bird (rooster/eagle) and the pride of the soldier. How fitting, then, that the French opponent, Arnaud Gabriel, should enter the narrative surrounded by air and smoke, like a man of wings rather than roots.

But here the image turns double-edged. To Baek Junmin, smoke is not freedom but submission (chapter 74): the visible trace of a man who dares to rebel. He once watched the fighter smoke a plain cigarette and sneered at him for it, precisely because he knew it was not a joint. In Junmin’s world, violation meant courage and power intoxication. He assumed that fearlessness linked to drugs would bring admiration and success. Jaekyung’s refusal to accept their drug wasn’t prudence; it was, to him, an insult — a quiet act of superiority. The wolf’s restraint exposed his indifference and own dependency, and that humiliation still burns.

Now that same symbol returns, ready to be twisted. (chapter 81) The schemers can weaponize the image of smoke — turning a mundane habit into proof of moral decay. What once marked distance from corruption could now be rebranded as relapse. Under this light, the haze on the new poster reads like the resurrection of that old resentment: smoke as proof, as provocation, as the spark that might ignite the next fall.

Worse still, the smoke doesn’t surround the fighter, it floats behind him. The poster makes the celebrity appear like vapor itself: fleeting, unsubstantial, “hot air.” The man of iron and will is reduced to mist and memory, a puff of illusion dissolving under false light. And now, we can finally grasp why the word “Emperor” remains unfinished. Emp no longer stands for empire, but for emptiness in the schemers’ eyes — the very image of a man hollowed out by rumor, stripped of body and voice, left to vanish in someone else’s smoke.

The Message Behind The Colors

At first glance, the black-and-white palette of the new poster might seem to echo the timeless harmony of yin and yang — two forces locked in mutual creation (chapter 81), night feeding day, death feeding life. Yet the longer I stared, the more this equilibrium seemed broken. Instead of flowing into each other, black and white now collide: the darkness doesn’t cradle the light, it devours it. The world becomes gray. And that’s the intention of the creators, though yin and yang will be present in the match.

My fellow Jinx-lovers might also recall that in South Korea, black and white are not symbols of elegance or neutrality — they are the colors of mourning. (chapter 74) The main lead was seen “wearing a black suit with three white strips” showing that he was the chief mourner. (chapter 74) Once you recognize this (chapter 81), the image takes on an entirely different meaning. The smoke rises not like balance restored, but like incense burning for the dead, a soul leaving a body. This inversion transforms the poster into something closer to a memorial portrait.

And then there is the light purple haze — a color that at first might seem aesthetic, even noble. Yet in this context, it suggests something bleeding, rotting, fermenting, like wine left too long in the glass. It blurs the boundary between beauty and decay, pleasure and loss. In religious iconography, purple once stood for power and resurrection; here it becomes the color of corruption — the slow decomposition of glory. This could be seen as a clue that the authors of this poster are aware of the athlete’s past drinking. (chapter 54) The wolf is wrapped not in triumph, but in the faint perfume of something dying beautifully. He is shown before his decomposition, which reminds us of his father’s fate: (chapter 73)

(chapter 74) The dense, rising smoke recalls the funeral altar we once saw during Joo Jaewoon’s death scene — white blossoms, a dark frame, and a half-erased face. The emperor’s comeback has been reframed as his own commemoration: a legend embalmed in monochrome.

What makes this echo even more haunting is the photograph chosen for Joo Jaewoon’s funeral — his portrait as a boxer. One part of his face is covered. Moreover, his burial fused the professional and the personal, erasing the line between athlete and man. When his father died, he vanished both as a sportsman and as a person — an identity consumed by a role. And now, the poster of “The Return of the Emp” seems to repeat the same logic. The fighter clenching his MFC-branded fist mirrors that old photograph. It’s as if the marketing team were unconsciously recreating the father’s memorial, predicting the son’s fall. The image proclaims not revival, but elimination in advance — the death of the fighter, and with him, the man.

And that, I believe, is precisely what Baek Junmin desires. Unlike the champion, Junmin never lived the disciplined life of a true athlete; he was a thug from the very beginning, fighting not for mastery, but for longing and recognition. He has always been a man of the shadows (chapter 73), hiding behind his hyungs, the mobsters who granted him borrowed strength and false belonging. Joo Jaekyung, by contrast, was raised in the ring — the gym shaped him as both a professional and a person.

But here is the difference between the two “altars”: the smoke in the poster is placed not in front of the picture (chapter 74), but behind and it is going in the opposite direction: (chapter 81) Mingwa is announcing the failure of the trap. In other words, the athlete is about to earn his stage name “The Emperor” for good! Observe that so far, this stage name was only announced once and it was never written. Under this light, it becomes comprehensible why the fighter’s name is placed at the bottom. They are trying to erase his name, while he is about to become a real legend: the Emperor!

But let’s return our attention to The Shotgun and his relationship with the wolf! (chapter 49) If you have read my previous essay, you’ll remember that I connected the arc of chapters 80 to 89 to the theme of jealousy. Baek Junmin embodies that poison completely. His words — “ (chapter 49) “kid”, “coward,” “chicken” (chapter 74)— reveal not confidence but a profound inferiority complex. Obsessed with the Emperor, he wants to destroy the man he cannot become.

Yet in that obsession, Baek Junmin has frozen in time. His envy, greed, and resentment prevent him from truly living. He remains trapped in the past, mirroring the ghost of Joo Jaewoon, whose death also fused ambition and ruin. (chapter 73) Both men are haunted by the same delusion: that to win, one must erase the other.

That’s why the poster’s mourning tone resonates so powerfully — because it visualizes Junmin’s fantasy: to see the Emperor vanish, not only as a fighter, but as a man. And when he realizes that the wolf is not dying but living — that he has found peace, love, and laughter again — his envy will not fade. It will ignite.

And yet, the author behind this illustration — whoever designed it within the MFC hierarchy — does not realize how prophetic it becomes under Mingwa’s hand. (chapter 81) For what they intended as a visual obituary might instead signal transformation: the end of a man defined by violence and the birth of one reborn through empathy. Yes, the title of the match could be read like this: The return of Empathy. One might argue that this took place before. However, so far, none of the members from Team Black noticed it. In fact, the athlete stopped doc Dan from treating other members of Team Black. (chapter 79) And the hamster followed the wolf’s request. This explicates why Potato is wearing a knee support brace — a sign that he is now tending to his own injuries without the doctor’s assistance. (chapter 81) It is a subtle but telling detail: the physical separation mirrors the emotional boundary now forming within the team. The healer’s hands have been withdrawn. So the emperor’s empathy is incomplete, hence he is only EMP. It extends only toward his chosen one — the doctor — and not yet to the others around him. True empathy, however, cannot be selective; it must reach beyond intimacy to encompass even those who do not stand at the center of affection.

Potato’s knee brace exposes the current limit of the wolf’s compassion: he protects Kim Dan but neglects the rest. Yet the injured knee also foreshadows the coming fight. Arnaud Gabriel, the “eagle,” is a kickboxer — his power rests on his legs, his rhythm, his ability to stay aloft through movement. By highlighting Potato’s injury, the author discreetly reveals the eagle’s own weakness: the knee, the joint that bridges grace and collapse. Without his legs, the eagle cannot kick or dance — he becomes a chicken, earthbound and ridiculous. And how was the main lead described in the past? (chapter 1) He was a beast of destruction, someone who made sure to crush his opponents without mercy (chapter 15) Unstoppable in his rage, he moved like a man possessed — bloodthirsty, unrelenting, fighting not for glory but for survival. Each strike was a declaration: I will not die.

The French MMA scene, by contrast, stands for the opposite ethos — for entertainment, glamour, and spectacle, not mortal struggle. For the eagle, the ring is a stage; for the wolf, it has always been an arena. Thus, if the champion were to injure Arnaud Gabriel seriously, the audience’s outrage would be immediate. He would be condemned not as a fighter but as a monster. (chapter 81) Yet, this does not make the eagle harmless. He embodies dream and danger alike — beauty that glides above the earth, but also talons sharp enough to wound.

In my eyes, Arnaud Gabriel personifies both illusion and seduction, much like the cloud — an image that leads us back to Kim Dan himself. (chapter 38) The doctor, too, has always been associated with clouds: soft, elusive, shifting with emotion. Thus I deduce that their paths will inevitably cross, dream and danger meeting in vapor and light. But more importantly, I perceive the smoke as a reference to the rising of doc Dan as physical therapist. (chapter 81) So far, his efforts were never noticed. Park Namwook’s gratitude was rather a lip service than a true recognition, because after the debacle, he was ready to hire a new physical therapist. And according to me, the schemers are all expecting the arrival of a diminished “MMA fighter” reaching the end of his career. That’s why the light is directed at the cloud/smoke! The one behind him is his hidden support.

And if the match truly takes place, I believe the champion’s way to ruin the schemers’ plan will not be through annihilation but transformation. He has to become himself an ARTIST!! [I will elaborate more about this aspect below] This time, victory will not depend on blood, but on how he fights — by returning to his origins, to boxing, to the simplicity of rhythm and breath, to the era when his smile was genuine. By having fun… In that sense, Joo Jaekyung may no longer be fighting for MFC but as the living embodiment of his own gym — Team Black reborn as the Emperor’s court.

But before we reach that possibility, another layer of meaning unfolds through Team Black itself. (chapter 81) The team’s black-and-white uniform (chapter 81) echoes the same mourning duality: black in the center, white on the sides — precisely like the arrangement of smoke behind the poster’s title. Yet when the team steps into the airport, the palette explodes into the full five Korean colors (오방색):

  • Black (north, water): Kim Dan, wearing the Team Black jacket — still faithful, yet marked and exposed.
  • White (west, metal): Park Namwook, disciplined but cold. (chapter 81)
  • Blue (east, wood): Joo Jaekyung, vitality and growth, standing quietly at the center.
  • Red (south, fire): Potato, radiating warmth and impulsive energy.
  • Green (center, earth): Yosep, grounding the group in human normalcy.

Only Oh Daehyun’s clothing remains unseen, though his blond hair shines like yellow, the missing balance of the circle. Taken together, they form a living flag of South Korea, suggesting that for the first time, Team Black stands united not by uniform, but by spirit.

This silent unity contrasts sharply with their earlier appearance during the Baek Junmin match, when they were clothed alike but divided in heart and mind. (chapter 49) What looked like teamwork was mere coordination. Now, the visual disarray hides emotional harmony — the perfect yin-yang inversion of their past selves.

The poster may wear the colors of death, but the airport scene (chapter 81) quietly answers it with the colors of life, diversity, and rebirth. Behind the mourning veil, something in this team has already begun to live again.

As you could see, I detected parallels between the match in the States and the one in France. Everything is pointing out the existence of another trap. (chapter 81) People started wondering about the doctor’s jacket. Why is he the only one wearing it? It is clear that this cloth truly belongs to the physical therapist, because the sportsman’s has always been too big for the “hamster”. (chapter 36) One could think, the other members are not wearing it, for they don’t want to be associated with the champion. He has been stigmatized as a thug or a child losing his temper, the consequences of Park Namwook’s badmouthing. However, observe that even the star is not wearing it. (chapter 81) It, was if they didn’t want to be recognized.

I think, there exists another explanation. Don’t forget that the jacket had different logos on the back: (chapter 36) What once symbolized sponsorship and solidarity has quietly disappeared. The explanation seems obvious at first: the loss of commercial partners following scandal and suspension. (chapter 54) Yet the deeper implication is far more unsettling. The jacket was more than a uniform; it was a contract, a visible bond between fighter and system. Its absence signals abandonment. The champion may still fight under the MFC banner, but the federation no longer claims him with pride. He is now a free agent trapped in an invisible cage — tolerated, not trusted. He questioned MFC and their competence (see chapter 67 and 69).

And what about the doctor? His jacket, now a solitary relic, must have arrived after his departure and given to him after his return. The Team Black jacket makes him a walking target. By still carrying the brand, he becomes the visible trace of a world that wishes to erase itself. He wears proof of loyalty in a landscape where faithfulness has become liability. If the upcoming match is indeed a trap, his uniform can mark him as bait or as a disguise! (chapter 37) He could be mistaken for the owner of the gym or a person involved in the scheme. And this leads me to my next observation: the champion’s picture and posture!

The Body That Faces the Crowd – From Defiance to Dialogue

If the smoke and the black-and-white palette whisper of death, the body posture roars of defiance. On the poster, the MMA fighter stands half-turned toward us, left fist raised, the logo MFC glinting on his glove like a brand or a curse. The light strikes him from below and from the right, revealing one side while leaving the other in shadow — a visual echo of his divided self: the professional mask and the wounded man beneath.

The position of that raised fist is crucial. It does not challenge the opponent — there is none in sight. It challenges the beholder. The blow is aimed outward, toward the audience, toward a world that has mocked, condemned, or abandoned him. The poster transforms the traditional stance of the victor into something closer to revolt. The “comeback” it advertises is not a return to sport, but a return against the crowd. Despite his handsomeness, he seems to have a bad personality (provoking, insulting, challenging the audience). They made him look like a bad guy: ruthless, arrogant and rebellious. As you can see, they are attempting again to ruin his fame and name.

Light purple bleeds through the smoke, carrying an undertone of resentment — bruised flesh, fermented wine, or the slow rot of disillusion. It’s the color of pride wounded yet unyielding, the hue of someone who refuses to forgive the world for its betrayal. In this light, the athlete seems less a man celebrating triumph than a revenant demanding recognition.

This reversal also tells us something about the system around him. In earlier matches, such as the one in the United States, both fighters were cheered, embraced as performers in a shared spectacle. Here, the scene will be different. No shared ovation, no brotherly arm around the shoulder, as with Dominique Hill. The poster prepares us for isolation, for a battle where the crowd itself becomes the enemy.

The schemers are expecting an angry and resentful man, while in verity this is a projection from the Shotgun. But because MFC is placed twice, it exposes the company’s greed and possessiveness. With the logo on the glove, they insinuate that they are the one deciding when Joo Jaekyung will fight or not. He is their puppet, and they decide when to discard him.

And perhaps that is the deepest irony. Team Black, still unaware that the previous match had been rigged — blind to the partial commentary, the biased jury, the manipulated outcome — walks toward a trap thinking it’s a stage. Neither the champion nor his coach nor his companion suspects that this time, the audience’s hostility has been engineered. The raised fist is both prophecy and warning: he will fight alone, not just in the ring, but against perception itself. Yet, he will supported by the “vapor”.

What the schemers read as fury, however, may become the seed of transformation. The same gesture that once meant aggression could turn, under a new light, into assertion — not of anger, but of presence. If the previous posters framed the fighter as spectacle, this one shows him claiming his body back from those who profited from it. I would even go so far to say that the athlete will end up challenging the authority MFC and even sue them. (chapter 81) And that’s how he could make history. He will be remembered as the Emperor, the one who put an end to crimes!

317 — The Date That Isn’t There

After the smoke, the colors and the picture, the next enigma lies in what the poster refuses to specify: no date, no location, no time. Every previous MFC announcement was anchored in visibility — April X, Saturday, on PPV , June — a fixed promise to the public. Here, all coordinates vanish.

That erasure extends beyond the poster. When Team Black lands abroad, the airport — once a stage for flashbulbs and microphones — stands eerily still. (chapter 81) That erasure extends beyond the poster. Behind Potato and Kim Dan drift a few gray silhouettes, barely human, half-formed shadows of what should have been journalists or fans. They look less like people than ghosts of publicity, residues of a crowd that never came. No banners, no reporters’ questions, (chapter 36) no cheering spectators — nothing recalls the hero’s welcomes of earlier arcs.

And yet, paradoxically, this match was an invitation from the CEO himself, supposedly a prestigious opportunity. The absence of press coverage therefore exposes a contradiction: the greater the supposed honor, the deeper the concealment. No one outside the organization has been informed; the public is deliberately kept in the dark. What pretends to be a triumphant comeback is, in truth, a private operation, an exclusive fight designed for a restricted audience. (chapter 81) Thus I deduce that the athlete won’t fight in a huge arena, but in front of a small circle, where people might smoke. A new version of this scene (chapter 74) but with a different public.

Still, one element gives the illusion of authenticity: the number 317. It appears on the poster like a seal of legitimacy — the next official bout in MFC’s timeline. And that is precisely the brilliance of the trap. The number suggests continuity, reassuring the team that everything follows protocol. The wolf and his court walk straight into the ambush because the system’s familiar numbering masks the rupture beneath.

In this silence, the gray figures become a visual metaphor for the event’s nature: visible enough to seem real, but hollow when touched. The “return of the Emperor” is not a broadcast — it’s a ghost match, orchestrated for unseen eyes, similar to the high-rollers who once financed Baek Junmin’s underground bouts for “commoners”. (chapter 47) Thus, 317 functions like a counterfeit signature — convincing enough to deceive even those inside the organization. What looks like promotion turns out to be execution by design, a fight that exists on paper but not on record. Hence no one is waiting for them at the airport.

At first glance, 317 might seem to follow the ordinary sequence of MFC events, yet the attentive reader will recall the last recorded bout — MFC 298 (chapter 54), the match where the Emperor faced Baek Junmin. That small arithmetic gap hides something extraordinary: eighteen events have supposedly taken place since then, in barely three months. Such acceleration borders on absurdity. It feels less like a sports calendar than a purge — as if the federation were rushing to overwrite history, to bury the memory of its fallen champion beneath a flood of new numbers.

The more I pondered this, the more the number 317 began to sound not like continuity, but conspiracy. The digits 3, 1, and 7 echo two pivotal moments in the narrative: chapter 16 (1+6= 7), where the doctor was almost raped (chapter 16), the moment Heo Manwook thought that the “hamster” was working as an escort due to the name “Team Black”. (chapter 16) So because of the jacket Team Black, doc Dan could be mistaken for a prostitute. Naturally, Jinx-lovers will remember the great fight between Heo Manwook and his minions, when the athlete saved his fated partner. Back then, no one discovered his great action. (Chapter 17) And how did the loan shark describe their world? Fake… he even called him a princeling, because he stands for the glamor and artificiality of MFC. He is the cover for the underground fights, drugs and money laundering. This connection reinforces my interpretation that the future match is « fake » and as such rigged. Then in chapter 37, the hamster met a Korean disguised as a MFC manager. (chapter 37) Both episodes revolve around misunderstandings, silence and deception. In this light, 317 fuses these numbers into a single cipher of repetition: history threatening to repeat itself.

The absence of any date or place only amplifies the unease. “The Return of the Emp” seems less like a public comeback than a covert operation. A fight that exists everywhere and nowhere. Its secrecy betrays its true nature — not an open competition, but a private spectacle designed for those already in the know.

And who are “those”? The answer leads us back to the high rollers. (chapter 47) In the past, they participated in the underground matches of Gangwon Province, where Baek Junmin reigned as a local legend — a thug made myth through blood and rumor. (chapter 47) There, they would even cheat with weapons to ensure the right outcome (chapter 46), as they didn’t want to lose money. And what did Park Namwook say in episode 46? (chapter 46) But now, the same hunger for spectacle has simply migrated upward. What once belonged to the alleys has climbed into the penthouses. The illegal thrill of the poor has become the curated decadence of the rich. And they were invited to witness the death of the “emperor”, someone who tried to escape from his origins. Thus I deduced that this is only a match that the high rollers (I suppose, mostly people from the Occident, though expect some from South Korea) know about.

Baek Junmin’s smoky basements have found their mirror in Arnaud Gabriel’s illuminated arenas. One fed the working man’s fantasy of domination, the other gratifies the elite’s appetite for risk (chapter 81) — both sustained by the same voyeuristic instinct to watch another man fall. That’s why he doesn’t need to be seen in the poster. His source of income comes from sponsors in the end. They come from the elite.

And this time, the high rollers know precisely what they’re buying. They have been definitely briefed: the celebrity has had shoulder surgery, suffers from headaches, drinks, and dismissed his own physical therapist. He avoided the gym for a while. He is someone who gets easily triggered, and once he is furious, he makes mistakes. They are not ignorant; they are investors in ruin, betting on a man already wounded. The match is not entertainment but a calculated execution disguised as sport. (chapter 46) Hence the French kickboxer can see his art as entertainment and fun, for he is facing a so-called injured opponent. To conclude, they have ascended into a new form of decadence. The same pattern persists, merely transposed to another altitude. Baek Junmin’s world of illegal betting has found its reflection in Arnaud Gabriel’s world of sponsored violence. One feeds the poor man’s fantasy of power; the other, the rich man’s craving for risk. At the same time, the Korean thug had connections to high rollers too, but mostly Korean people. And the CEO is the link between these extreme two worlds. In other words, this match is bringing up the corruption to the surface. However, they are not expecting “change” and as such coincidence. Consequently, I am assuming that their plan will fail. And if they bet against the champion, imagine their reactions, when the opposite happens. They might feel deceived and betrayed. They could even lose, if someone else takes his place and he acts as the director of the gym. And who agreed to this match? Park Namwook… He wanted a match at any cost thinking that this would revive his boy’s “reputation” and fame. And now, you comprehend why no advisor was sent to develop a strategy against Arnaud Gabriel, the angel of death from the CEO!! Both sides are underestimating and deceiving each other. In this case, Park Namwook’s blindness and ignorance becomes a virtue. The enemy is left in the dark.

Thus, 317 becomes the code of collusion — the bridge between the basement and the penthouse, between the mud of Gangwon and the marble of Paris. A number that hides a shared agenda: the silent elimination of the Emperor. And now, you are wondering how the main leads can escape from this trap! If he wins and its victory reaches the ears of the public audience, the schemers will definitely attempt to accuse him of selecting a wrong fighter. If he loses, he will be “disfigured” and forgotten. Don’t forget that according to me, the French kickboxer will aim at his face and shoulders, his weaknesses. By losing his second title, Joo Jaekyung won’t be able to appear in the covers or social media! Another possibility is that he lets someone else fight in the ring due to circumstances, yet I have my doubts about this. You will discover soon why. But if my theory is correct and the champion shines in that fight so that the downfall doesn’t happen, the VIP audience might get upset against the CEO. The latter deceived them in order to earn a lot of money! They have been tricked by his lies and bet against the athlete. And the high rollers could decide to switch sides and question the new champion’s victory. One might think, a tie could be a possibility, but the poster is suggesting otherwise: it is a rigged game at the athlete’s expense. There’s another way that the wolf can succeed: it is to become an artist!! But what does it mean exactly?

Be Water, my friend

The heading is an important quote from the famous martial arts fighter Bruce Lee:

After reading his definition about Martial Arts, it becomes clear that the pool scenes are not just there for the doctor’s sake, they’re the curriculum. In water, the champion rehearses the very balance Bruce Lee describes—moving without forcing (chapter 81), breathing without bracing, learning that flow is strength. The author placed the swimming lessons here so we’d see him practice calm under pressure before he performs it in the ring. But observe that when he is in the swimming pool, he is expressing more and more his emotions. (chapter 81) At the same time, he is also incited to control his pulsions and body. (chapter 81) In other words, during the swimming lessons, he was encouraged to find the right balance between instincts and control, which Bruce Lee recommended. It is no coincidence that he referred to the philosophy of yin and yang!

Bruce Lee warns: “If you have anger toward others, they control you.” That’s been the wolf’s trap from chapter 14 onward—rage as a leash. (chapter 36) The pool inverts it. Laps replace lunges; rhythm and love replace revenge and hatred. Anger loses its grip because water refuses to hold it. And now, you can grasp why the athlete was calm during the meeting: (chapter 81) His fear and anger were no longer controlling his heart and mind. “One of the best lessons you can learn in life is to remain calm.” The swimmer learns it; the fighter must now prove it. Thanks to doc Dan, the athlete was incited not only to accept himself, but also to get self-knowledge.

Across from him stands the eagle: instinct without control —aerodynamic, moving based on the circumstances. Arnaud Gabriel fights based on the reaction of his opponent. He is air: elegant, distant, untouched. But the problem is that he has no strategy at all (“the unscientific”), as he is dependent on the air, his opponent. This gives another explanation why the Entertainment agency offered no advisors to the athlete. (chapter 81) Arnaud Gabriel is totally unpredictable which makes him dangerous but also weak. So what happens when the athlete uses a totally different strategy? The eagle will get caught by surprise. Thus in the past, we have to envision that the wolf was the mechanical man, iron and fire, surviving by destruction. Bruce Lee’s middle path—instinct guided by awareness—is the only way out of this binary. That’s why the story moves him from steel to steam, from panic to presence.

Life itself is your teacher (chapter 62), and you are in a state of constant learning. (chapter 80) The seaside town and doc Dan taught him kindness, the pool teaches him composure and precision, the poster’s smoke teaches him restraint: you don’t swat at vapor; you breathe and move through it. “It is far better to be alone than to be in bad company”—so he steps out of the schemers’ frame. “When you accept yourself, the whole world accepts you”—so he stops fighting the audience and starts speaking to one person who matters, then to many. In my opinion, Joo Jaekyung will use this bout to express his feelings for Doc Dan (“to me, martial arts means expressing yourself“) and the birthday card (chapter 81) with the key chain represents now his motivation. Thus he resembles more and more to the physical therapist. 8chapter 81) Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the athlete has not confessed his feelings yet. In my eyes, the confession will be strongly connected to the imminent match. In other words, by spending time with the physical therapist, the Emperor regained his voice and body. He can now express himself in the ring, making sure to catch doc Dan’s gaze and admiration. And now, you comprehend why I mentioned that Joo Jaekyung will come to see this fight as a source of strength and inspiration: it will be more about love and recognition from his loved one than the money or hatred from the audience.

Practically, this means the bout must look less like slaughter and more like sparring—measured pressure, controlled power, no needless cruelty. That choice does two things at once: it denies the high-rollers their blood-script and leaves the kickboxer no “reason” to obey orders to ruin a face or a shoulder. Arnaud only embodies instinct — rhythm without reflection, showmanship without soul. So he is not guided by negative emotions. Be water becomes case law: adapt, absorb, answer—without being owned by anger.

So air meets water: (chapter 81) spectacle meets expression. The eagle can only descend to strike; water rises, falls, returns. And since Bruce Lee’s punch turn into water , I came to imagine that the athlete might strike him like “water”, hard enough to make him lose the balance and defeat him, but not too strong to damage his knee for good.

If he carries the pool into the cage, the “emp” on the poster will cease to read as emptiness. It will resolve into empathy—calm under fire, feeling without being ruled by it. And the smoke behind him? Not a death shroud, but iron turning to steam—a body once forged in rage, now speaking in flow. And now, look at the other tattoo on his left arm: it is a cloud or steam! (chapter 17) And once the cloud (doc Dan) meets the steam (chapter 81), they can be together as a couple. To conclude, though this poster was created as an epitaph, the reality is that it announces the emergence of Joo Jaekyung, the dragon! Kim Dan is the one who is turning the athlete Joo Jaekyung into an actor, the emperor! Even if his career as MMA fighter ends, he can still work as an actor or as the owner of his gym. He will never be forgotten as an athlete like his father or Hwang Byungchul. His name Emperor will remain forever in the memory of people and maybe because of his “fight” with MFC and thugs. At the same time, it displays the increasing conflict between Team Black and MFC. The fist could be seen as directed at MFC. The Emperor represents a menace for the CEO in the end. One thing is sure: since Baek Junmin chose the nickname “The Shotgun”, it becomes clear that he has become the negative version of his rival: he is now the mechanical man (control without any natural instinct). He lost his balance and can no longer rely on others. What he fails to realize is that by bringing more and more people in the schemes, he is actually endangering the whole organisation MFC! Furthermore, contrary to the past, the athlete will pay attention to his fated partner in France, so a meeting between Arnaud Gabriel and Kim Dan will definitely reach the athlete’s eyes and ears.

This is the longer interview of Bruce Lee:

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 Wolf’s 🐺 Ritual in front of the 🐹Tender Mirror 🪞

The Wolf Before the Mirror

After episode 75, many readers felt they finally understood Joo Jaekyung. He spoke of his routines — the glass of milk (chapter 75), the perfume (chapter 75), the nights of sex before a fight (chapter 75). His words seemed like a confession, a key to the riddle of the Night Emperor. But do we truly know him now? Yes and no. Yes, because his testimony reveals patterns we had only noticed before. No, because those patterns are only the ones he decided to share. The tattoos chapter 75) that suddenly appeared on his body (chapter 75), for example, were left unmentioned — proof that silence still surrounds him.

And that silence is the heart of the mystery. Why cling to such gestures at all? (chapter 75) Why fight as though every match were a matter of life and death? Why keep repeating the same acts, long after survival was secured? (chapter 75) What does the jinx truly represent for him — mere superstition, a ritual of control, or something he himself has not yet dared to name? For Jaekyung himself cannot fully explain it. He confesses what he knows — that sex steadies him, that milk soothes him, that perfume sharpens him — but he does not grasp what lies beneath these habits. The origin of the jinx remains hidden, lodged somewhere between memory and trauma, where even he cannot follow. Are these rituals mere superstition, a desperate bid for control? Or are they fragments of something deeper — pieces of a story he has never fully told, even to himself?

This essay does not claim to solve the riddle once and for all. Instead, it traces the wolf’s path step by step: the seed of the jinx in childhood loss, its growth through training and systems, its mask as professional myth, its collapse in illness and insomnia, and the counterforce embodied by Kim Dan — the tender mirror that reflects what Jaekyung has never faced.

The wolf has spoken, but his words only open new questions. To read them closely is not to find closure, but to stand at the edge of the mirror and ask: what truth still hides behind the jinx?

The Birth of the Jinx: From Loser to Survivor

The origins of Joo Jaekyung’s “jinx” cannot be reduced to a single event or ritual .(chapter 75) They are the product of a long chain of humiliations, betrayals, and systemic exploitation, each layering onto the next until a young man’s raw talent was encased in a carapace of compulsions. To understand the jinx is to understand how the protagonist’s life collapsed around the word loser, and how the fighting industry transformed his private shame into public myth.

From the beginning, Jaekyung’s relationship to combat was not framed as “sport” or “discipline” but as survival. (chapter 72) Even before stepping into a professional cage, his life had been a series of trials to prove he was not worthless. (chapter 74) Hunger, poverty, bullying, insults— each branded his body with a language of violence. Among them came his father’s words, spat like a curse: loser. (chapter 73) That insult crystallized everything. The young boy absorbed it as truth, so much so that every later fight would be less about victory and more about silencing that single syllable. (chapter 75)

To conclude, the origins of Joo Jaekyung’s jinx lie in the place where private wounds and public exploitation overlap. It was never simply a superstition, nor only the accumulation of personal rituals. It was born in the crucible of insult, abandonment, and systemic betrayal, until it hardened into a second skin. To grasp the weight of the jinx, one must trace its seed in his childhood, its growth in the system that exploited him, and its crisis in the moment when he first admitted: I can’t take it anymore (chapter 69)

The Five Losses

At first, Joo Jaekyung’s rise seemed unstoppable. He was young, raw, and hungry (chapter 75) — a boy who fought with the desperation of someone who had nothing else. Victory after victory gave him the illusion that he had escaped his father’s shadow. As long as he was winning, he could suppress the pain, bury the insult loser, and silence the memory of that cursed night when his father died and his mother abandoned him. Triumph became his shield, proof that he was not what he had said he was.

But then came the first defeat. (chapter 75)

For most athletes, a loss is a bruise, a chance to recalibrate. For Jaekyung, it was a collapse, That first loss did not just wound his pride — it broke the fragile wall he had built against his past. With the referee’s decision, the ghosts returned. Memories he had forced into silence came rushing back: his father’s drunken rages, the contempt in his voice, the silence of the house after the funeral, the absence of the mother who should have stayed.

Yet the people around him could not see any of this. (chapter 75) To them, a fighter’s struggles had only one explanation: weakness. Park Namwook and the other coach dismissed his losses as nerves (chapter 75), as if the only measure of worth were what happened under the spotlight. They never thought to ask what kind of weight he was carrying, what kind of nights he was surviving before he entered the cage. While the other fighters were well aware of the champion’s insomnia (chapter 75), Park Namwook still has no idea of the champion’s struggles. This shows how disconnected he is from his “boy”.

For the coaches, fighters were not human beings with inner lives. They were “fresh meat,” (chapter 74) bodies to be tested, pushed, and discarded if they broke. Where Jaekyung’s defeat cracked open childhood trauma, they saw only performance failure. What he lived as suffocation and despair (chapter 75), they reduced to cowardice, bad luck or lack of discipline.

It was after that first defeat that the nightmares began. On the eve of every major fight, his father returned in dreams — not as comfort, but as terror. (chapter 75) Shadowed hands stretched over his body, pressing down, suffocating him as he tried to sleep. The man was dead, but still he choked the air from his son. It was, as if the father wanted to bring his son to the afterlife.

In truth, every match had always been a battle for survival. (chapter 75) Even before his first loss, Jaekyung fought like a cornered animal, pouring every ounce of strength into proving he could not be beaten. That’s why he rose so fast. But why? The reason is that all his opponents were reflections of his “father”. (chapter 29) Hence all the challengers have empty eyes and a smirk on their face, just like Joo Jaewoong. (chapter 75) Consequently, his matches always looked like life-and-death struggles. He wasn’t strategizing against a specific fighter; he was exorcising a ghost. That’s why he never refused a challenge. His opponent never mattered. Besides, as long as he could win, it didn’t matter.

But after his first defeat, that survival style began to falter. The stronger his opponents became (chapter 75), the more the cracks showed — and the ghosts of his father and mother made every fight feel like a replay of abandonment and accusation. The five losses (chapter 75) were not just setbacks in his career; they were the repeated reopening of a wound that would never heal. Each one confirmed his father’s curse. Each one reinforced the sense that he was marked, that no matter how high he climbed, he would always be dragged down again.

This is why insomnia became his constant companion. Victories silenced the ghosts temporarily, but the fear of defeat meant he could never rest. (chapter 29) Sleep was dangerous. Night itself was dangerous. To close his eyes was to risk drowning again in his father’s shadow.

The “jinx” was born here, in the space between triumph and terror. Losses triggered his past, victories gave only temporary relief, and the cycle of sleeplessness carved itself into his body. It was not just that he lost five matches — it was that in losing, he discovered he could never truly escape. (chapter 75)

Defeat for Jaekyung was never contained to the ring. It spilled outward, contaminating his sense of self. With no supportive network to reframe failure as growth, he internalized it as destiny. At this point the soil of the jinx had been prepared: shame, hunger, and despair compacted into a single wound.

The Father’s Insult & the Mother’s Abandonment

If the five losses cracked Jaekyung’s present, the deeper fracture had already been carved years earlier — on the night of his father’s death. That final argument sealed itself into his soul like a curse.

The fight began when Jaekyung, cornered by frustration and anger, shouted his desire to leave “this dump of a house.” (chapter 73) To the boy, it was a cry for pain and survival — an instinctive urge to escape despair and criticism. To the father, it was betrayal. Already emasculated by failure and drink, he was reminded of his wife’s discontent, the specter of another abandonment. He lashed out the only way he knew: (chapter 73)

That word — loser — became permanent. When the father died later that night, Jaekyung was left with two unbearable impressions: that his last words had cursed his father to die (chapter 73), and that the man’s final judgment on him would never be undone. Love and hatred, longing and guilt fused in that moment. He loved his father despite the abuse. And yet he would forever wonder if leaving — even just threatening to leave — had killed him. Worse, because death came so suddenly, there was no time left. (chapter 73) The clock had stopped before forgiveness could be spoken, before the boy could say he had not meant it. From that moment on, time itself became his opponent: every match another countdown, every victory an attempt to outrun that night.

The nightmares that began after Jaekyung’s first professional loss are echoes of that night. In them, his father returns, shadowed hands stretching to choke the air from his chest. (chapter 75) The hands around his throat were not only the weight of guilt — the boy regretting words he could never take back. (chapter 75) They were also the expression of longing, the words his father had not spoken that day. Behind the insult ‘loser’ was the wound of a man deserted by his wife (chapter 73), unable to voice his own vulnerability. (chapter 75) In the dream, the silence became hands: both curse and plea, punishment and confession, suffocating the son who could never repair what had been broken. It was as if the father wanted to bring his son to the other side, yet beneath the violence was a plea: “Don’t abandon me, too.”

And here, the mirror appears. Dan unconsciously repeats the father’s gesture (chapter 66) — speaking not with fists or insults but with tears and an embrace. (chapter 66) His sleepwalking reacting to a simple touch (chapter 65), his dissociative pleas (chapter 66) give Jaekyung the words his father could not say. Where the father’s unconscious leaked out in aggression, Dan’s unconscious offers gentleness and honesty. Both men speak from a place deeper than reason; one chained Jaekyung to guilt, the other opens the possibility of release. In Dan’s trembling body, Jaekyung sees the tender reflection of his father’s hidden plea (chapter 66) — the same hands that once strangled him in nightmares now return as arms clutching him in desperation, not to kill him, but to keep him alive. Doc Dan’s whispers revealed that deep down, he desired to be saved and even taken. The father and the physical therapist both fear abandonment. That’s how it dawned on me why Joo Jaewoong chose to hide his vulnerability and resorted to violence and insult to mask his suffering and low self-esteem. Where are his parents in this story? Why was he obsessed to leave the place? (chapter 73) Why does the champion have no grand-parents?

If Joo Jaewoong was himself an orphan — or had effectively lived as one — then his life would have been marked by the same wounds that later haunted his son: abandonment, lack of recognition, and a hunger for belonging. But unlike Jaekyung, he never found a way to sublimate that pain into something lasting. His only outlet was boxing, a fragile refuge that collapsed once his career failed. (chapter 74) With no parents, no siblings, and eventually no wife, he had nothing to fall back on and saw in the criminal world another form of “family”. The family he created became his one fragile shelter — and when that shelter cracked, there was nothing left to hold him.

This also explains why betrayal cut so deeply. If he had been orphaned once already, his worst nightmare was to be abandoned again. When his wife left, the nightmare returned in full force. (chapter 72) His violence expressed his powerlessness. And when his son shouted his desire to leave the “dump of a house,” (chapter 73) he heard the same wound echoing. His response — calling his son a loser — was not really about boxing. It was about himself. In Jaekyung’s words he recognized his own instinct: the same drive to escape, to sever ties, to search for life elsewhere. His insult was not only an attack, but also a mirror, reflecting back the failure and desertion he had never overcome.

The tragedy is that he had no language for vulnerability. Where Kim Dan trembles and pleads openly, (chapter 66), the father could not. He had never been taught how to ask for help, how to voice fear, how to admit despair. Keep in mind how the little “hamster” was treated at school: (chapter 57) Violence and insult became his only idiom. “Loser” was not simply an accusation, but the displaced confession of his own defeat: I was abandoned. I failed. I have nothing.

This is why he resented his son. Jaekyung mirrored him too closely. (chapter 73) The boy’s boxing talent was a source of pride — proof of strength — but also a threat. Strength meant escape. Escape meant abandonment. The father, who had already lost his wife and his dignity, projected onto his son the terror of losing everything once again. His resentment was not born of disappointment alone but of recognition (unconsciously): you are me, and you will leave me too.

From a narrative standpoint, this also clarifies why Jinx never shows Jaekyung’s grandparents, while Dan’s halmoni plays such a visible role. (chapter 65) The absence is not an oversight but a theme. Jaekyung comes from severed roots: no grandparents, no siblings, no extended family to lean on. Hence he was alone at the funeral. (chapter 74) His father may have been an orphan, just like his mother too. Therefore the latter was emotionally unavailable, and so he inherited not only trauma but also silence. By contrast, Dan has at least one surviving figure — flawed as she is — who keeps the family thread intact. That contrast makes Jaekyung’s bond with Dan all the more significant: it is not just romance, but an attempt to build a family line that never existed before him.

This also explains why the story deliberately exposed the “mother” of Hwang Byungchul (chapter 73), while keeping Jaewoong’s own origins shrouded. Hwang had someone by his side — gentle, quiet, but present — while Jaewoong had no one, as according to me, the mother was counting on her “husband”‘s success and dream. The director’s stability, however fragile, was rooted in that maternal figure. Jaewoong had no such guide, and without it, he simply made the wrong choice.

If the father cursed him with words, the mother wounded him with silence. When news of her husband’s death reached her (chapter 74), she never once spoke to her son about it, never asked what he felt. She did not grieve with him, nor allow him to grieve. Besides, the main lead’s words were ambiguous: Was the father dead or had he abandoned his son too? The fact that she never asked exposes that it didn’t matter to her. She was not interested in the truth, her only concern was herself — her new life, her fear of losing it. Where the father left him branded, the mother left him erased. (chapter 75) One condemned him, the other abandoned him, and between them Jaekyung was left with neither recognition nor belonging.

Worse still, she used time itself against him. To her, his pain was invalid because he had “grown up”; childhood had expired, and with it any claim to comfort. If the father’s death left him no time to undo his last words, the mother’s detachment told him he was already too late. One parent departed too soon, the other dismissed him as already finished. Between them, Jaekyung was trapped in a cruel paradox of time. This explicates why he rushed his career. Every victory carried the urgency of being “not too late,” yet every memory reminded him that it already was.

This fusion of insult and betrayal created the paradox that would dominate his adult life. Every victory was haunted by loss (chapter 73); every triumph, by the echo of rejection (chapter 73). To win was to prove his father wrong, but to stand alone in victory was to prove his mother right. Success and emptiness became inseparable.

And yet, this is precisely why Kim Dan’s presence destabilizes him. The quiet therapist mirrors the mother: bound to the domestic, offering care in silence (chapter 56), seemingly fragile and dependent. But unlike her, he stays. Where the mother left, Dan endures. He only left because of the champion’s final words: (chapter 51)

By choosing Dan, Jaekyung faces the chance to rewrite the past on both fronts. To hear in the tears of another man what his father could not say. To receive in daily presence what his mother could not give. Dan is the mirror — but also the key. Through him, the curse of that night can finally be undone. The insult “loser” can be answered not with endless victories but with loyalty and responsibility. The suffocating grip of the nightmare can be released not by outrunning it, but by choosing someone who will not disappear when the fight is over. Finally, because his fated partner’s fate resembles to his own father, he can grasp Joo Jaewoong’s words from that night much better. That moment where Jaewoong shouts, (chapter 73) mirrors what the director later whispers to Jaekyung: (chapter 75) Both men — the broken father and the regretful coach — carry the same hidden insight: that fighting cannot be the whole of life, and that reducing yourself to fists and violence only leads to ruin.

But where Jaewoong voiced it as rage (a curse disguised as a lesson), the director voiced it as wisdom (a confession born of hindsight). Both were trying, in their own ways, to warn the boy. And yet, Jaekyung could not hear it until he had this vision of doc Dan waiting for him! (chapter 75) This is the wolf’s ritual in front of the tender mirror: the fighter who lived by curses and silence finally meeting their reflection transformed into gentleness and endurance.

To conclude, Dan is not just a partner but the tender mirror of the champion. He reflects both parents back to Jaekyung: the father’s unspoken vulnerability, the mother’s missing presence. To accept Dan is to answer both wounds at once — to refuse to be defined by the word “loser,” and to refuse the emptiness that haunted every victory.

The Bible Fighter Encounter

At his lowest point, after the five humiliating defeats and the sleepless nights where his father’s shadow clawed at his throat, Jaekyung stumbled across another fighter whose stability was almost alien. (chapter 75) This man’s jinx was startlingly simple: he read the Bible before every match. One book, one ritual, one anchor. To outsiders, it may have seemed quaint, even laughable, but to Jaekyung it was enviable.

Here was a man who had condensed all the chaos of combat into a single act of faith. His jinx was not a patchwork of compulsions but a covenant: a relationship to something larger than himself, a story that gave meaning to the brutality of the cage. (chapter 75) When he prayed, it was not only for victory, but for coherence. Win or lose, the ritual bound him to a sense of belonging that Jaekyung had never tasted.

For Jaekyung, the encounter did not plant faith, but it did plant envy. (chapter 75) If ritual could bend fate, he would build his own. But where the Bible fighter had a single, unifying story — scripture, God, fellowship — Jaekyung had nothing to draw on. No faith to lean on, no parental blessing to inherit, no safe home to return to. Instead, he began to stitch together a mosaic of rituals, each one disguising a different childhood wound. To outsiders it looked obsessive, neurotic, almost superstitious. To him, it was survival. Each gesture was both repression and remembrance, a scar disguised as armor. And this is the paradox: the rituals made him strong enough to survive, but too broken to live.

  • Sex was not intimacy but anesthesia. (chapter 75) By using another body, he cleared his head, numbed the loneliness, and convinced himself he was in control. But it was also a grim reenactment of abandonment: he could take without being left, dominate rather than risk being deserted. At the same time, he considered his sex partners as toys in order to avoid guilt. A toy can not die, it can be “thrown away”.
  • Milk seemed trivial — a glass before the day began. (chapter 75) But in truth it was a disguised memory of hunger (chapter 72), of nights when there was nothing to eat, of shame attached to poverty. (chapter 75) To drink milk was to rewrite the past: I will not go hungry again. Yet the act was also a reminder that he once had.
  • Perfume transformed bullying into ritual. Once shamed for smell and sweat (chapter 75), he turned fragrance into armor. (chapter 75) The bottle on his shelf was less cosmetic than talismanic, proof that no one could call him dirty again. But the ritual did not erase the insult; it replayed it daily.
  • Tattoos etched pain into permanence. To endure the needle was to reenact overtraining (chapter 27) , self-punishment, the willingness to suffer endlessly for the cage. He didn’t fear pain. Their sudden appearance (chapter 75) remains shrouded in silence — who drew them onto his body, and under what conditions? Why are they absent in his youth, only to surface fully formed as he steps onto the international stage? This silence is telling. The tattoos are both declaration and wound: marks of pride, but also scars he chose to carry in plain sight.

Together, these rituals formed a raft — not to carry him forward, but to keep him from drowning. They gave him the illusion of escape, while chaining him to the very traumas he sought to forget. He imagined he was moving on, outpacing the ghosts of his father’s insult and his mother’s abandonment. Yet each gesture pulled the past back into the present. The Bible fighter’s ritual was a prayer; Jaekyung’s were bargains. The more he clung to them, the clearer it became that he was not free. He was frozen, an adult in body but still the boy (chapter 75) who had been abandoned, when he was 6 years old. In fact, on the day, he shouted to his father he would leave this “dump of the house”, he didn’t anticipate that he would relive the day, when he was abandoned as a child. That’s why he has imagined of himself as a little boy and not a teenager. He had the heart of a little boy: wounded, scared and abandoned. Thus he could never grow emotionally. His jinx was not transcendence but entrapment. He was bargaining with memory: don’t let me fall back into the night where I was branded a loser. Don’t let me taste abandonment again.

In this way, the Bible fighter’s simplicity only underscored Jaekyung’s fracture. What was singular faith for one man became a shattered mosaic for another. The jinx did not make him whole; it reminded him every day of how broken he already was.

The Rush to the Top and his predestined Fall

What made this fragile system even more dangerous was the brutal pace at which his career was structured. Between the ages of twenty and twenty-six, Jaekyung was hurled from obscurity into the international spotlight. His first MFC fight was already the 220th bout (chapter 75), a reminder that he had entered a machine in motion, a system that swallowed fighters whole and spat out statistics. From that point, the acceleration was merciless: by April, he was in the 272nd bout against Randy Booker (chapter 14); by June, the 293rd against Dominic Hill (chapter 40); and by July, the 298th against Baek Junmin. (chapter 50)

In less than two years, there were merely eighty fights, and he participated quite often: 4 within 5 months (I am including the one in episode 5) The pace was staggering — inhuman. In the span of six years (chapter 75), he had not merely “built” a career, he had been consumed by one. There was no time to recover from injuries, no space to process victory, no room to integrate defeat. No wonder why his shoulders were in bad shape. (chapter 27) And even before entering MFC, he had to win the champion title for KO-FC! Here he had to face many opponents. (chapter 75) Every fight blurred into the next, every opponent older, stronger, more experienced. And yet Jaekyung fought them all with the same desperate, survival-driven ferocity.

Commentators marveled at his intensity, describing him as if he were “fighting for his life.” (chapter 75) They meant it metaphorically, but for Jaekyung it was literal. The cage was his childhood all over again — a dump he needed to escape, fists and rage the only tools at hand. He fought not to win titles but to silence ghosts. Every opponent became his father’s shadow, every victory a plea to his absent mother: see me, recognize me, don’t abandon me.

This was not a steady ascent, not the careful shaping of an “athlete.” It was exploitation disguised as opportunity. Moderators described his ferocity as spectacle, but the deeper betrayal was in the language used to frame him. The director (chapter 71) and Dr. Lee (chapter 27) still called him an athlete — someone whose body required balance, protection, recovery. But MFC and KO-FC never did. For them, the main lead or his colleagues were addressed as (chapter 14) “The Emperor”, “a crazy bastard” (chapter 40), “my boy”, (chapter 74) “fresh meat,” (chapter 14) “ Randy Booker the butcher,” or (chapter 47) “a potential star.” Not a person, not even a professional, but branding material — a body to be consumed by audiences and discarded once spent. The absence of the word athlete marks what he lost: recognition as a human being. And guess what? (chapter 41) Only doc Dan at the gym saw the fighters as athletes!

Here, the personal and the professional fused in a toxic loop. The wolf’s private jinx gave him the illusion of control — sex, milk, perfume, tattoos — while the organizations fed on those compulsions, scheduling fight after fight, using his rituals as fuel for their machine. The more he fought, the more he relied on the jinx. The more he relied on the jinx, the more exploitable he became. What looked like discipline was really desperation; what looked like destiny was really a trap.

The tattoos mark this stage with brutal clarity. They appear suddenly (chapter 75), without narrative explanation of when or by whom they were inked — as if stamped onto him by the very system he served. In South Korea, tattoos long carried a stigma, associated with gangs and the underworld; Baek Junmin’s body displays this openly (chapter 47). Thus only doctors are allowed to do them officially. But Jaekyung’s rise shifted that meaning. As “The Emperor,” he normalized tattoos for the new generation of fighters, transforming what once marked marginality into a badge of visibility. This is why even Oh Daehyun, one of his admirers and members of Team Black, now carries one: (chapter 8) The celebrity’s suffering literally redefined the aesthetic of the sport. His body, turned billboard, became part of the league’s branding.

Is it a coincidence that Jaekyung’s fall began almost as soon as Dan entered his orbit? At first glance, one might think the therapist’s presence destabilized him, but the timing reveals something darker. The moment Jaekyung began to show humanity, the system pounced — using his deepest wounds as leverage to strip him down.

Every challenge he faced after Dan’s arrival carried the sharp edge of his private pain. Randy Booker taunted him as a “baby,” (chapter 14) ripping open the scar of his father’s “loser” and his mother’s absence and silent parentification. Not long after, an article exposed his shoulder injury (chapter 35), reducing years of discipline to a liability on the page. Later came the suspension narrative (chapter 54), his temper framed not as the product of exploitation and scheme but as proof of unfitness, as if his rage were a crime instead of a symptom. (chapter 54) Even the match with Baek Junmin was twisted against him — accepted under pressure, then reframed as recklessness. To the system, his crown had been too secure, his presence too dominant. He had been champion for “too long.”

The logic was brutally simple: a fighter is valuable until he earns too much , (chapter 41) until he threatens the balance of spectacle and profit. Then the very traits that made him marketable — ferocity, endurance, defiance — are turned into weapons against him. The same press that glorified his titles was quick to call him a liability. What the commentators once celebrated as survival was reframed as instability. Did you notice that all the events quoted above are linked to the number 5! (chapter 5) the name Seo Gichan appeared here for the first time… a faceless name!

The panel of the gym makes this logic stark. (chapter 41) His match fee doubled, and the athletes around him cheered, basking in the reflected glory of his win. Yet the same scene exposes the truth: behind him stand rows of “fresh meat”, ready to replace him the moment his body breaks or his aura fades. Fighters were not nurtured as athletes or honored as artists; they were consumed like rations in a machine that never stops feeding. His career, far from proof of fate or talent alone, was a treadmill built by others — one that guaranteed collapse. That is why his “invitation” from the CEO was less an opportunity than a pitfall. (chapter 69) The danger lay in the very identity of his next challenger. If they pitted him against a newcomer who had rocketed through the ranks as quickly as Baek Junmin once did (chapter 47), the outcome was already poisoned.

Should Jaekyung win, the victory would be dismissed: he had chosen an easy opponent, feeding the narrative that he no longer belonged at the top. Should he be paired with a strong opponent, they expect him to lose, for he has just been surged. So should he lose, the humiliation would be absolute — proof that his era was over, his downfall sealed. And even a tie would work against him, just as before: no one would call it resilience; they would call it weakness, the inability to dominate. In every possible outcome, his worth would be diminished.

This is why Potato’s skepticism back in chapter 47 (chapter 47), questioning the selection of Baek Junmin, is so crucial. It shows that the manipulation of opponents was no accident — it was systemic. Matches were not about fair combat but about narrative management: making sure the emperor’s story served the company’s balance sheet.

The system leaves Jaekyung with only one real option: to step out of the spotlight. Every path inside the cage leads to diminishment — win, lose, or tie, the outcome is already poisoned. To remain would be to keep running on the treadmill until his body breaks, his title stripped, his name forgotten.

But there is another path, one the system cannot script: (chapter 75) to follow Dan into a different kind of life. For Jaekyung, this does not mean abandoning fighting altogether, but detaching it from the machinery of survival and spectacle. To fight not to silence ghosts or to feed companies, but because he chooses to. To discover that strength can exist outside the ring.

This is where the tender mirror matters. In Dan’s steady presence, Jaekyung catches a glimpse of the self he has never allowed himself to become: not just wolf, not just champion, but a man capable of rest, of connection, of living beyond ritual. Where the system shows him only exploitation, the mirror reflects possibility. He will discover the advantages of “vulnerability and childhood”: fun and enjoy the present.

The system can strip him of titles, twist his image, discard his body. But what it cannot erase is the possibility of choosing a different path, like for example fight for fun and act as a real director of a gym!

The Empty Champion

The façade cracked with the tie against Baek Junmin. (chapter 51) On paper, it was a draw. In practice, it was soon reframed as a loss (chapter 57). By late August, Jaekyung had slipped to third place. (chapter 69) And strikingly, no one questioned it. Not Park Namwook, not the officials, not even Joo Jaekyung or the commentators who had once praised his streak. The silence was louder than any insult.

The title of “champion” — the very identity he had staked his survival on — was revealed as hollow. (chapter 75) Here, it looks like a mirror, but naturally it is a fake one. It was not earned with fists alone; it could be stripped, reassigned, reshaped at will. One tie, one whisper, one adjustment in the rankings, and the Night Emperor was dethroned without ceremony.

For Jaekyung, this revelation was more than professional disillusionment. It tore open the paradox of his childhood. Just as his mother’s absence had turned victory into rejection, the system now proved that even championships carried no safety. He could win endlessly and still be discarded. He could bleed, sweat, endure, and still be branded as replaceable.

The belt was supposed to erase the insult “loser.” Instead, it exposed how fragile identity remained when it depended on others’ recognition. He had built a kingdom on rituals, and the first storm revealed it was sand.

The Cry of Exhaustion

When Jaekyung finally mutters, “I can’t take it anymore” (chapter 69), the choice of words is crucial. He does not say “I can’t do it anymore” — as though it were a matter of strength or skill — but take. This single verb reveals the deeper structure of his life. He has lived not by creating or belonging, but by enduring and consuming.

To take meant many things for him:

  • to take blows in the ring, as though punishment were the measure of his worth;
  • to take orders from coaches and managers, their words absorbed as commands rather than care;
  • to take the belt, the money, the fame, without ever finding nourishment in them;
  • to take on guilt and abandonment, carrying weights that were never his to bear.

Even his jinx rituals repeat this same pattern. Each is an act of taking:

  • Milk — taking liquid into his body (chapter 75), ritualizing hunger that had once been real deprivation.
  • Sex — taking another’s body as a vessel (chapter 75), not for intimacy but to clear his head and stave off loneliness, emptiness and his abandonment issues.
  • Perfume — taking a scent (chapter 75), masking shame by cloaking himself in armor.
  • Tattoos — taking pain into his skin, as if engraving scars could grant permanence.

None of these rituals is about giving, sharing, or being. They are substitutions, attempts to fill a void. He consumes and endures, but he never rests. Survival by taking is not the same as living.

That is why the sentence “I can’t take it anymore” is more than a cry of exhaustion. It is a refusal of the very economy that has defined him: the endless cycle of taking, absorbing, enduring. The belt, the fights, the rituals — they have all lost their power to silence the ghosts. His body cracks under the weight, and his soul confesses what his will has long denied: that survival without belonging is hollow.

Here begins the possibility of a new mode of existence. Not taking, but being. Not absorbing endlessly, but inhabiting presence. And this is what Dan embodies. Where Jaekyung has lived by taking, Dan offers constancy — a presence that does not vanish, a tenderness that does not demand. The mirror he holds up makes Jaekyung’s cry not merely one of collapse, but of awakening. It signals a desire to step out of the hollow cycle of taking, and toward the possibility of being — not a “champion,” not a “loser,” but simply himself. (chapter 75) The problem is that in his dream of belonging, the champion is not present yet. He hovers at the edges of his own life, like a ghost, repeating rituals that anchor him to absence rather than connection. He exists in fragments — as fighter, as brand, as body — but not yet as a whole person. To become present, he must learn not only to abandon the logic of taking, but to enter the world of giving and receiving, where presence is shared rather than consumed. His later vow (chapter 75) must be read in this light. It is not a relapse into the system’s treadmill, nor a blind return to the pitfall laid before him. Notice that he does not say he will fight in the fall, nor does he mention the upcoming match that everyone else is waiting for. (chapter 71) Instead, he frames his goal with a word that changes everything: reclaim.

Reclaiming is not the same as taking. It implies agency, choice, and even memory — an effort to retrieve something that was stolen or hollowed out, and to give it new meaning. Here, Jaekyung is no longer the body endlessly used by the system, nor the boy who clung to rituals of survival. He is beginning to define his own ground. The belt may still be the symbol, but what he seeks is not its material shine; it is the authority to say: this is mine because I chose it, not because it was forced on me.

This subtle shift is the fruit of the tender mirror. Through Dan’s presence, Jaekyung glimpses that fighting can be more than compulsion, more than survival — it can be chosen, and it can be shared. His declaration to “reclaim” is thus less about the system’s title than about carving a new relation to himself: no longer the orphan boy trapped in taking, but the man who begins to act, even falteringly, from his own will.

The Tie as Inverted Trauma

And yet, within the Baek Junmin fight lies a paradoxical seed of transformation. The tie (chapter 51) repeats the structure of his childhood trauma but in inverted form.

Then he won the match (chapter 73), but he lost his father and his mother abandoned him. (chapter 74) He lost his hope of a “home” for good.
Now: he tied the match, but he is the one who criticized the doctor. Though he didn’t lose his gym, he pushed doc Dan away and the latter chose to quit.

Then: he was silenced, (chapter 73) branded a loser without reply. His words — “I’ll leave this dump” — were thrown back at him as “loser.” The insult froze him in place. He could not defend himself, could not reply, could not demand to be understood. His father’s judgment became law, sealed by death. To speak further would have meant betraying him, to stay silent meant carrying the curse. The boy’s voice was extinguished before it ever found strength.

In the locker room with Dan, Jaekyung is no longer mute. (chapter 51) When his world threatened to collapse again — the tie with Baek Junmin, the looming humiliation — he erupted in rage. He screamed at Dan, he let the words spill out violently, breaking the silence that had once shackled him. It was an act of defiance against the curse: if he could not silence the nightmare, he would shout it down.

But here lies the decisive contrast: unlike his father, Dan does not reply with insult. He does not brand him, erase him, or abandon him. Instead, he disarms him with a single, piercing question: “Don’t you trust me?” (chapter 54) That moment reverses the old script entirely. Where his father’s last word was condemnation, Dan’s is invitation. Where his father’s voice ended the dialogue forever, Dan opens one. Where his father made trust impossible, Dan asks for it. Besides, the latter encouraged him to reflect on himself.

The locker room clash thus marks more than anger — it is the birth of a new possibility. Jaekyung is no longer the boy silenced by judgment, but the man whose rage meets not insult, but a chance at trust. (chapter 51) The mirror is clear: the cycle can be broken, but only if he dares to answer the question that was never asked of him before. Therefore it is not surprising that the physical therapist’s question appeared in the champion’s vision: (chapter 54) His unconscious was telling him to have faith in his “doctor”. Thus later, the champion told the director of the hospital this: (chapter 61) He was acknowledging the main lead as a real physical therapist.

The tie created a strange neutral space, neither victory nor defeat, where change became possible. Losing the belt was not only humiliation; it was a disruption of the old cycle. A chance to redefine what fighting could mean.If the first trauma bound him forever to the word “loser,” the second pointed toward another possibility: to lose a title, but to gain, at last, a home and even a partner!

The Mirror Clouded By Silence

Like mentioned above, readers may think that by chapter 75 the mystery of the jinx is solved. The protagonist finally names it, recounts his five losses, confesses the nightmares of his father, and admits to the strange bargain of sex as ritual (chapter 75). The wolf speaks — and the silence seems broken. But this is only the surface. The confession gives the illusion of truth while concealing how much remains unspoken. How so? It is because this confession changes everything. It reframes the past.

For in reality, Jaekyung has never revealed the whole architecture of his jinx to anyone. To the outside world, (chapter 62)— and even to those closest to his body — it looks like nothing more than sex. That was all the uke from chapter 2 saw, and it was enough for him to sneer: (chapter 2) The insult landed with devastating familiarity, not as a new wound but as an echo of his father’s curse: “loser.” Both words reduced Jaekyung to nothing — not a man, not an athlete, just a fraud kept alive by crutches.

This is why Jaekyung’s violent outburst was so extreme. (chapter 2) In slamming his former partner against the wall, he was not merely silencing a lover’s cruelty. He was fighting the ghost of his father, the voice that had branded him weak, cursed, unworthy. The jinx that kept him alive was being twisted into proof of his failure, and he could not bear it. (chapter 2)

But Dan, too, repeats this misrecognition, though with none of the malice. In chapter 62, when Jaekyung asked to return to their routine and another aspect of the jinx (chapter 62), Dan recoiled. (chapter 62) To him, “jinx” meant objectification, a reduction of their bond to sex. (chapter 62) He could not know that behind the word was an entire architecture of rituals — milk, perfume, tattoos, scars — all the desperate scaffolding Jaekyung had built to survive. Like mentioned above, by the time of chapter 62, Jaekyung already valued Kim Dan not just as a body to “use” (chapter 62) but as a therapist he trusted. His words about wanting to return to the “usual pre-match routine” (chapter 62) were, in his mind, a way of saying: I need you to bring back wholeness, to help me steady myself again. But because Dan only knew fragments of the jinx, the message landed with devastating distortion.

To Dan, “pre-match routine” meant sex. He knew about that ritual, maybe also the glass of milk — (chapter 41) but not the others. He had never seen how layered and fragmented Jaekyung’s survival system truly was: the shower and perfume, the milk, the tattoos, the obsessive fight schedule. Thus, when Jaekyung invoked the jinx, Dan heard only objectification: you want me for my body. However, this is not what the “wolf” meant. Thus he got surprised by such a statement. (chapter 62) For Jaekyung, the plea was about coherence; for Dan, it sounded like reduction.

This is why Dan recoils, saying bitterly that he should have known Jaekyung “only wanted my body.” Both men were speaking from wounds — but past each other. Jaekyung was reaching for stability, Dan was defending his dignity. The gulf between them was not lack of care but lack of shared knowledge.

Food as Silent Ritual

This gap becomes especially poignant when we look at the food scenes. Because Dan doesn’t know the full set of rituals, he instinctively replaces them. (chapter 22) He cooks breakfast for Jaekyung, offering something warm, homemade, human — a substitute for the cold, industrial glass of milk. (chapter 75) Naturally, he must have noticed the glass of milk each morning, but the physical therapist thought that this beverage was just the expression of the champion’s taste. He never saw it as a part of the ritual. In cooking so, he unconsciously takes over not only the role of the nutritionist, but also of the “family”. That’s the reason why Joo Jaekyung got so moved, though he did not smile (chapter 22) or cry out of joy.

We see the contrast after the doctor’s vanishing: Jaekyung, alone, eats food mechanically, (chapter 54) throws the plate away (chapter 54), or sits at a vast table in silence. (chapter 54) But when Dan cooks, Jaekyung is surprised, even touched. For once, nourishment is not consumption but connection. The milk was always a disguised memory of deprivation; Dan’s meal becomes the antidote — food as presence. So for him, the prematch-routine was also referring to the meals prepared by his fated partner. And I feel the need to bring another aspect. Since there was no “family” in the athlete’s life, he never got the chance to discover the joy of the table. (chapter 22) Hence it is not surprising that he looked at his phone, while the others were eating and discussing. He never had a real conversation with a family member around the table.

The Hidden Scent

Another layer is scent. (chapter 40) Perfume was one of Jaekyung’s protective rituals — masking shame, creating an armor against the memory of bullying and ridicule. Yet Dan shows that none of this is necessary. The panel where he clings to the bedsheets after their Summer Night’s Dream together (chapter 45), whispering that he misses Jaekyung’s warmth, reveals that the champion’s natural scent is already enough. He never gets to see this — Jaekyung doesn’t know how deeply Dan treasures his smell.

This is critical: Dan unconsciously redeems the rituals. He replaces milk with food, perfume with genuine warmth, mechanical sex with an act that stirs tenderness. But because Jaekyung doesn’t articulate his system, Dan cannot recognize what he is undoing. The mirror is already working, but the reflection is clouded. And this leads me to another observation. His rituals had already been affected by doc Dan’s presence, but the latter never realized it! Joo Jaekyung returned to his lover’s side after the shower and perfume! (chapter 40) Here he turned around and placed his lover in the middle of the bed. He even let him rest.

Why Only Mention Sex?

A lingering question remains: why does Jaekyung mention only sex in this conversation (chapter 2), and not the other rituals? Because to admit the rest would be to expose the origin of the jinx: the father’s insult, the mother’s abandonment, the hunger, the bullying. Sex was the only ritual that could be spoken without directly dragging the past into the room. It was the “safe” shorthand — though tragically, it became the most dangerous. Homosexuality is definitely a stigma among boxers and MMA fighters.

By limiting his words to sex, Jaekyung avoided revisiting trauma, but in doing so, he doomed the conversation to collapse. He reached for the mirror, but without naming his scars, the reflection became distorted.

A Mirror of Wounds

Chapter 62 therefore stages one of the most painful paradoxes in Jinx: Dan is already healing Jaekyung’s rituals without realizing it. But because he doesn’t know the full picture, he interprets the champion’s plea as exploitation. Interesting is that in this confrontation, something crucial happens. (chapter 62) Dan’s reproach is not framed in the language of the ring. He does not call Jaekyung weak, a loser, or unfit — the very vocabulary that had haunted the champion since his father’s curse and that others (uke, press, rivals) recycled against him. Instead, Dan’s words land on an entirely different plane: “I should’ve known… that you only wanted me for my body.”

This is not an insult to the protagonist as a fighter. It is a wound as a man. The complaint does not echo his father’s verdict but indicts his coldness, his selfishness, his inability to show care. Where the old trauma was about being branded unworthy of victory, Dan’s reproach is about being unworthy of intimacy.

That difference matters. For the first time, the athlete is not being told he cannot fight; he is being told he cannot love. He doesn’t care! The battlefield shifts. What once was survival inside the cage is now survival outside of it — the fight to be recognized, not as “Emperor,” but as a partner capable of connection. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the champion tried to take care of his fated partner! (chapter 68) In his own way, he was showing him that he did care! He was more than just a body… or even a physical therapist!!

Here the mirror metaphor sharpens: Jaekyung sees himself through Dan, but Dan only sees part of him due to his “secrecy” and silence. Until both fragments meet — the rituals revealed, the care recognized — the mirror cannot reflect the whole.

The Tender Mirror: Dan’s Role

If the jinx was born in silence — the father’s insult, the mother’s disappearance, the system’s exploitation — then its undoing begins in silence as well. But this time, the silence is not absence. It is observation and presence. (chapter 35) It is the steady mirror of Kim Dan.

From the very beginning, their dynamic was framed in asymmetry. In Season 1, Jaekyung appeared as the unshakable adult, even the father-figure: towering, dominant, controlling every space he entered. Dan, in contrast, was cast as the child (chapter 13) — helpless, cornered, often pleading. Thus the champion taught the doctor to overcome his fear and fight back: (chapter 26) This imbalance was no accident. It replayed Jaekyung’s own childhood roles: he became what his father had been to him (the better version naturally, for he is the mirror of truth), and forced Dan into the position he had once held himself. Through Dan, Jaekyung unconsciously re-enacted his trauma, reversing their positions as if to master what had once mastered him. That way, he was pushed to mature emotionally! That’s why he could connect with the main lead unconsciously. His trembling words in Chapter 51 (chapter 51) were the expression of a desire for recognition and acceptance. Thus the request from the champion (chapter 51) should be seen as the separation between a “father” and “son”.

But Season 2 begins to fracture this arrangement. Slowly, Dan ceases to be the terrified child. Instead, he resembles more to the adolescent. He can not grasp his own behavior. (chapter 71) He believes to know the truth, while he is ignorant. He is insecure, extreme in his behavior (drinking) (chapter 71), but also selfish and questioning, still fragile yet capable of protest. He is struggling with his own emotions and thoughts. (chapter 71) How can he trust the athlete, when he doubts himself so much? From my point of view, he is on the verge of become “mature mentally” and as such “responsible”. At the same time, Jaekyung is revealed as the adult in crisis. His exhaustion (Chapter 69) strips away the illusion of invulnerability. The wolf, once a figure of brute survival, begins to look more like a cornered animal, uncertain whether to fight or collapse. And observe that now the champion is having a cold, like a small “child”! (chapter 70)

Gradually, their roles shift again. Thus I deduce that Dan is about to take care of Jaekyung. But not as his “father”… but as his hyung! (chapter 74) It is because thanks to the director’s confession, the “hamster” is able to see the champion as a “a kindred spirit“, an orphan and as such as the younger “boy”.

This is why the possibility of “hyung” is so radical. The word collapses categories that Jaekyung has always kept apart: dependence and respect, family and intimacy, protection and confession. To call Dan “hyung” would be to admit need without shame, to claim family without fear of betrayal. He would become now a part of “Joo Jaekyung’s team”. It would be, in essence, the reversal of the father’s insult “loser.” Where “loser” condemned him to isolation, “hyung” would admit him into belonging. Through this single word, the curse could be undone. At the same time, it would announce the end of Park Namwook’s ruling. Finally, let’s not forget that in episode 7, the physical therapist was introduced as “hyung” to the other fighters. (chapter 7)

Toward Redefinition: Fighting as Fun

When the director whispered to Jaekyung to “find a new purpose,” it was not only advice — it was prophecy. (chapter The purpose he had clung to until now had already rotted. Victory no longer silenced his ghosts. Belts no longer secured belonging. Titles could be stripped at will. Even his rituals had begun to betray him, his body collapsing into illness (headache, insomnia) after Doc Dan left his side. What remained was emptiness.

But emptiness is also possibility.

For Jaekyung, the redefinition of fighting begins with a shift from having to being. Until now, his life was driven by the mode of having: having titles, having opponents, having sex, having rituals to take the edge off. Even his exhausted cry in Chapter 69 — “I can’t take it anymore” — reveals this logic. What he can no longer endure are the burdens of having: the blows, the obligations, the belt that weighs more than it rewards. His rituals, too, were all about taking — taking milk, taking a body, taking perfume, taking tattoos. They filled emptiness for a moment but never answered it.

To become present, he must enter another mode: not having, but being. Being in the fight, being in connection, being in the moment. Fighting not to silence ghosts or to feed a machine, but because it is fun (chapter 26), because it is play, because it is chosen.

This redefinition is not foreign to combat. At its root, martial arts were always more than survival. They were practice, discipline, sometimes even dance. But Jaekyung had never been allowed to experience them that way. For him, the cage was always a replay of childhood — fists against ghosts, survival against abandonment. To rediscover fighting as fun is not regression but liberation: a way of reclaiming what was stolen from him, the joy of movement, the thrill of competition without the terror of loss. That way, the rituals lose their meanings.

The hug in Chapter 69 marks the pivot. Here Jaekyung embraces Dan not as therapist or tool, but as man to man. (chapter 69) It is not about treatment or jinx, but about presence. This hug reframes the meaning of strength. True strength is not the ability to fight endlessly, but the ability to hold and be held, to mirror” is like touching oneself! Let’s not forget that the mirror represents the reflection of a person. Respecting the physical therapist signifies respecting oneself!

And this is where the future possibility of “hyung” matters. To call Dan hyung would mean accepting him not as ritual but as family. It would mean that fighting is no longer about proving oneself against ghosts but about sharing life with another. To fight as fun is to fight with nothing to prove, no curse to outrun, no insult to erase. It is to enter the ring not for survival, but for joy.

Conclusion – From Loser to Hyung

The arc of Jaekyung’s life can now be seen in its full sweep:

  • Seed: the father’s insult, the mother’s abandonment. He views himself as a loser deep down! Thus we should see this as a self-deception. (chapter 75) He was confronted with reality after the match with Baek Junmin. The manager slapped him, Potato criticized him, the medias portrayed him as reckless! His wealth or his fame could never erase his self-loathing.
  • Growth: the system’s exploitation, the rush to the top.
  • Mask: the rituals of the jinx — sex, milk, perfume, tattoos.
  • Crisis: collapse in Chapter 75 — the 5 losses, insomnia, nightmares, tie, illness.
  • Counterforce: Dan’s presence as tender mirror.
  • Redefinition: fighting as joy, family instead of fresh meat.

In this arc, the wolf is transformed. The boy branded a loser, who built armor out of rituals and clawed his way to titles, now stands before the tender mirror. There, at last, he sees a reflection not of ghosts but of life. (chapter 75) He discovers that strength does not mean enduring forever alone, but allowing oneself to need, to ask, to belong. Besides, having a partner implies that the latter has his back!

The final reversal is simple yet profound. Once, Jaekyung believed survival meant taking: blows, titles, bodies, rituals. Now he begins to see that life means giving and receiving. The wolf’s true victory will not be another belt but another word: hyung.

In that word, everything is reversed. The father’s insult “loser” is silenced. The mother’s abandonment is answered. The system’s exploitation is refused. And the wolf, no longer a cursed emperor, becomes simply a man — fighting not for survival, but for life. And that’s how he can escape the trap from the schemers, for the latter only knows one form of the jinx: sex! Besides,thanks to his loved one, he is able to gain peace of mind. From that moment on, no one can provoke him like in the past. (chapter 36) He can remain indifferent to their “provocations”, as he has long matured emotionally. (chapter 36) He can retaliate differently. With his money and power, he can prove to them, he is no loser!

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: Following the Teddy Bear – part 2 🧸🦆

I have to admit that chapter 72 contains so much insight that the essay “Following the Teddy Bear” didn’t contain all my observations, yet after writing almost 9000 words, I decided to close it. It was definitely getting too long. The problem is that today Mingwa is releasing a new episode and I wanted to share all my thoughts before we get new information.

Questioning the Teddy Bear’s past

In the first part, I questioned whether the champion had truly been raised only in poverty — or if there were traces of another world in his past, a hidden legacy that went beyond mere survival. At the time, I focused on the presence of the wrapped books in his childhood environment (chapter 72) — subtle symbols of education, possibility, and restraint, hinting at something more structured, perhaps even noble, behind his harsh upbringing.

But there is another reason to doubt the simplicity of his origin story, and it appears quietly in chapter 27: (chapter 27) Where and how did he learn swimming? Moreover, observe that he connected it to relaxation and fun. “This feels good”. This contrasts so much to the interaction between Hwang Byungchul and the little boy with the teddy bear. (Chapter 72) The man doesn’t know that the athlete can swim, he only knows the boxer, as he was only able to see him on TV. (chapter 71) Interesting is that Jinxphiles followed Kim Dan’s school career (chapter 47) (chapter 47), yet the latter can not swim! (Chapter 47)

Treading Water: The Symbolism of Near-Drowning

This means that doc Dan never received swimming lessons at school. Here I would like to thank my friend @Rin_de_eegana 😘🙏 for her great help. She brought my attention to the fact that in Japan swimming became a core part of school education after the Shiun Maru disaster in 1955, where many schoolchildren drowned. The government responded by installing pools and integrating swimming into physical education to prevent such tragedies. South Korea, on the other hand, only made survival swimming mandatory after the Sewol ferry disaster in 2014.

By 2019, children from grades 3 to 6 were supposed to receive survival swim training, and by 2020, this extended to grades 1 through 6. But as often happens with policy, the reality didn’t match the intention — many schools lacked pools, instructors, or resources. In poorer regions, survival swimming remained an ideal on paper rather than a guaranteed experience.

In episode 72, we briefly see the date May 16th (chapter 72), though the year is deliberately blurred. At first glance, it’s a simple timestamp anchoring the timeline of a major fight. It took place one month before his birthday. But May 16th also falls exactly one month after April 16th, the day of the Sewol ferry disaster. This connection may not be overt, but it echoes thematically in the physical therapist’s life: Kim Dan, born too early to benefit from those reforms, never learned how to swim. I will explain more further below.

Unveiling Joo Jaekyung’s secret

Since Joo Jaekyung’s childhood is more connected to the gym and not to the school, it implies that back then, school didn’t play a huge role in his life. (Chapter 72) Nevertheless, with this panel, Mingwa indicates that the protagonist was visiting the Elementary school. The neighborhood he grew up in — as described by Hwang Byungchul — was “cutthroat.” (Chapter 72) In such a place, swimming lessons would have been a luxury. Thus I deduce that the champion likely never learned to swim at school. The public school system there likely didn’t have the funds or infrastructure to build pools or train children in water safety. And yet, he did learn — and he swims confidently (chapter 27). He has no problem to jump onto a boat or to go into the ocean in order to save Kim Dan from drowning. (Chapter 60) He even knows how to give first aid too. (Chapter 60) These aren’t casual skills. They’re not the product of school curriculum or street wisdom, especially not in a neighborhood described as “cutthroat.” These are taught skills — and not by someone who saw Jaekyung merely as a fighter. Swimming and first aid reflect something else entirely: a commitment to preparedness, not just for survival, but for helping others.

This implies that someone in Jaekyung’s past — perhaps a doctor, nurse, or medically trained adult — took the time to teach him, not to toughen him, but to give him tools to protect and support others. In contrast to the ideology of “fight your way up,” (chapter 72) this unnamed figure offered a radically different message: you have value not just in your fists, but in your capacity to protect life. And contrary to Hwang Byungchul, this person stands for “shadow and humbleness” and not “spotlight or wealth”!

The act of learning first aid is not about aggression — it is a selfless skill, rooted in presence of mind and compassion. And yet it also builds self-reliance: it teaches a person to stay calm under pressure, to act precisely when others freeze. (Chapter 27) That Jaekyung carries this knowledge — and uses it without hesitation — reveals a deeper emotional structure. (chapter 60) Someone in his past gave him a moment of true help: not transactional, not conditional, not tied to victory — but human.

This quietly counters the narrative set by Hwang Byungchul, who taught Jaekyung how to fight, but never how to care. The presence of this unknown mentor—someone who offered real, dignified support—suggests that not all of Jaekyung’s emotional development came from brutality. Part of it came from someone who believed he could be more than a fighter and a weapon. After this realization, it dawned on me that this could be Cheolmin hyung, the mysterious doctor. (Chapter 13) His vocabulary revolves around water: “pond”, “fish”! Besides, I have already connected to him Poseidon, the god of the ocean. Moreover, this man is strongly intertwined with fun, a notion that doesn’t belong in Hwang Byungchul’s world! And now, you understand why this man could touch Joo Jaekyung’s shoulder (chapter 13) and even make jokes in front of him. (Chapter 13) He knew about the existence of the Teddy Bear inside the champion. And is it a coincidence that both men have the same name “Chul=Cheol”, though the order diverges: Cheolmin versus Byungchul? And both are connected to the color “green”. (chapter 72)

By contrast, Kim Dan never learned to swim — and even imagined that he would drown in the swimming pool. (Chapter 27) This small but powerful moment reveals a deeper social reality. He did go to school, and he lived in a more stable home environment with his grandmother. But here is the thing. Kim Dan is already 29 years old which means that he was born in the 90’s. It places him at the very edge of a generation caught between silence and reform. When the Sewol ferry disaster occurred on April 16, 2014, Dan was already too old to be involved with the reform. He belongs to the group of young adults for whom no institutional safety net existed. The survival swimming curriculum that was introduced in the aftermath of the tragedy — starting around 2019 for elementary students — came far too late for him.

This is why he never learned to swim. It wasn’t just due to poverty or a lack of parental support. It was the product of structural and societal abandonment which is also reflected in his unconscious suicidal attempt. (chapter 60) There was no witness, no coast guard, no institutional figure involved in his rescue. He was alone, only saved by one person. His generation was expected to take responsibility — to succeed, to repay debts, to endure hardship — but they were given no tools to survive when crisis struck. They were neither protected nor prepared.

Dan’s near-drowning in the story isn’t just a dramatic beat — it’s a reflection of this historical failure. He’s not weak or helpless. He’s simply someone no one thought to train, someone who slipped through the cracks of a society, because he was taught to only rely on his grandmother — a woman who, in the end, couldn’t truly protect him either. Why? It is because she just relies on one person as well. By not intervening against the bullies, she contributed to the protagonist’s isolation. Hence both were forced to rely on each other for years! The fact that he’s now a healthcare professional only deepens the irony. He is helping others breathe while no one taught him how to float.

The swimming scene reveals an unspoken truth about their pasts. The child Jaekyung, though bruised and abandoned, was prepared like a predator — taught to master his body and environment. (chapter 72) Dan, who grew up in silence and guilt, was taught only to endure and adapt — not to assert himself or survive in a crisis. What the text doesn’t show directly — how they each learned (or didn’t learn) to swim — is part of Jinx’s deeper architecture. To see it, we must use the third eye: the intuitive sense that reads meaning between the panels.

Swimming here becomes symbolic. It represents their upbringing, their visibility, and the kind of support they received. One was trained, perhaps even watched over. The other was forgotten, floating just below the threshold of recognition — until someone finally pulled him out. According to me, doc Dan’s true personality is the duck. (chapter 65) So teaching him how to swim will help him to reconnect with his true self and to find a meaning to his life.

And before closing this short second part, I would like to point out this observation: (chapter 14) This fight took place in April… the same month than the Sewol ferry tragedy. And the color of the poster is once again green. Is it a coincidence? I have my doubt here. And what did Randy Booker say to his opponent? He called him a baby (chapter 14) which led the protagonist to seek refuge in the bathroom, but here he couldn’t relax. (chapter 14) That’s how I realized that water is an element linked to childhood and as such motherhood! (chapter 72) Hence water was leaking from the ceiling at the boy’s feet: drip, drip… We need to ask ourselves why Joo Jaekyung learned how to swim in the end. (chapter 72) I have the impression that it is related to his mother… she could have died by drowning as well or the woman is connected to this sport. And the champion learned it as a legacy, a way to grieve, to cope with his loss. This would explain why he came to neglect swimming in the long run.

In the first part, I portrayed the mother in a relative negative light. Nevertheless, like mentioned before, we should never simplify life and persons. Humans are living beings, they are full of contradictions. The woman could have been selfish, but she could have been a good worker. I criticized Park Namwook for the way he treats the protagonist. Yet it is clear that he is a wonderful father and husband. The proof is that he has 3 children and they are all smiling. (chapter 45) And this brings me to my final thought: Kim Dan had to meet Hwang Byungchul for an important reason: to learn how to survive on his own, as he is still depressive. He is lectured how to become independent and how to find a real goal in his life. By confessing the terrible youth about the Emperor, the physical therapist gets to hear that he wasn’t the only one abandoned and in pain!! (chapter 72) (chapter 56) Moreover, he gets the opportunity to understand why “usefulness” became so important in the MMA fighter’s life. Through this confession, the other teddy bear gets to perceive that he has so many things in common with his fated partner. Both experienced abandonment, loss, poverty, bullying and only worked in their life too! They never got the opportunity to enjoy life to the fullest.

PS: And now, you know why I wanted to write the second part as quickly as possible, as 73 should be connected to episode 13 and 37!

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: What about The Wolf’s 🐺First Kiss ? 💋

The Couple’s First Kiss

In episode 14, Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan kissed each other for the first time. (chapter 14) For the physical therapist, this moment would later be confirmed. (chapter 16) —haltingly and with a trace of disbelief visible thanks to the points of suspension —as his first kiss ever. His stunned reaction and eventual admission offer a compelling lens through which to explore the symbolism of kissing in Jinx, but also the emotional landscape the two men must navigate.

Yet, the title of this essay refers not to Kim Dan, the hamster, but to the wolf. Could this have been the champion’s first kiss, too? The story never provides a definitive answer. While Jaekyung has had many sexual partners, he treated them as disposable— as toys and not as individuals. (chapter 55) Still, some readers have theorized the existence of a “special lover” in his past (chapter 2), someone who might have earned a different kind of intimacy. One cause for this hypothesis is that in the champion’s first memory, he was facing his partner, which contrasts so much to the way he had sex with his partners (from behind). This possibility casts the locker room kiss in a new light. (chapter 14) If it was his first, the gesture carries a far deeper meaning than either man realizes in the moment. And if it wasn’t, then why does this kiss—with Kim Dan—resonate so differently?

Under this lens, the significance of a first kiss expands. It becomes a tool not only to uncover Jaekyung’s emotional history and his past, but to explore the shifting dynamics between the protagonists. The following analysis begins with Dan’s reaction, then gradually shifts its focus to Jaekyung—tracing how the act of kissing reveals hidden fears, prior wounds, and the potential for genuine transformation.

The Hamster’s First Kiss

When Mingwa proposed a different perspective of the doctor’s first kiss in episode 15, (chapter 15) she showed more than the physical therapist’s confusion with the interrogation marks, she added his inner thoughts. This question (“What’s this?”) already hinted that he had never experienced a kiss before. The ambiguity of his reaction suggested that the moment was unfamiliar, and not immediately recognizable as a kiss at all. (chapter 16) It was only later, while brushing his teeth in front of a mirror, that he consciously identified the event as his “first kiss.” Why didn’t he recognize it immediately? After all, a kiss—mouth-to-mouth contact—is common knowledge, even for someone emotionally inexperienced. I have different explanations for his confusion.

First, Dan’s delayed recognition reveals that this was no ordinary kiss: it was his first moment of unfiltered intimacy, so foreign to him that it couldn’t be labeled until later. (chapter 15) The emotional dissonance overwhelmed his ability to process what had just happened. His belated realization doesn’t just reveal how strange closeness is to him, but also how deeply isolated he is from ordinary social and cultural cues—whether through meaningful relationships or exposure to romantic norms in media. The fact that he did not immediately identify the kiss, despite its widely understood definition, underscores the emotional detachment and deprivation he has lived with. How could this happen?

To answer this question, we must consider more than just Dan’s personal trauma (the loss of his parents) —we have to examine his cultural upbringing and environment, especially his exposure to intimacy through media. This interpretive thread was triggered by a seemingly benign interaction in chapter 30, when Kim Dan meets actor Choi Heesung for the first time. (chapter 30) Recognizing his face, Dan mentions that his grandmother used to watch the drama A Fine Line, and that he had seen it with her. (chapter 30) The author even includes a framed shot from the fictional show, depicting Heesung as the smiling son-in-law in a multigenerational family. This visual insert is subtle, but telling: it wasn’t the story that stayed with Dan, but the faces—the aesthetics of family structure and polite emotional decorum.

This detail matters. Korean weekend dramas, particularly those aimed at older or more conservative audiences, are known for avoiding overt depictions of romance or physical affection. Instead of kissing scenes or deep emotional vulnerability, these shows focus on family values, social respectability, and moral perseverance. Romantic affection is implied through service, duty, and self-sacrifice, while physical intimacy is portrayed sparingly—if at all. “Skinship,” as physical affection is commonly referred to in Korean culture, tends to be awkward and limited even in media (like for example grabbing the wrist instead of the hand). Public displays of affection are discouraged in real life, and this cultural restraint echoes onscreen. K-drama couples often struggle to express love openly; when they do kiss, it’s usually stylized, fleeting, or emotionally stilted.

When you realize that Dan’s only exposure to fictional romance came through watching these conservative shows with his grandmother, the implications grow clearer. His understanding of love was shaped by media that prized emotional self-control, emphasized propriety, and framed romance as something that only happens within marriage or bloodline ties. And more importantly, his access to even this narrow vision of love was filtered through Shin Okja, a woman whose own values prioritized appearances, self-reliance, and emotional suppression. Under her roof, affection was functional. Emotional expression was rather ignored.

This means that Dan grew up with no safe or meaningful model of romantic love—neither in life nor in fiction. He didn’t learn how to interpret touch, kisses, or expressions of desire. He may know intellectually what a kiss is—mouth-to-mouth contact—but that knowledge carries no emotional anchor. His surprised thought (“What’s this?”)(episode 15) in episode 15 reveals just how disconnected he is from the symbolic meaning of affection. Later, brushing his teeth and reflecting, he finally realizes: That was my first kiss. But even then, the memory doesn’t register as something tender or beautiful. Instead, it haunts him because (chapter 16) it frightened him. The kiss broke an invisible boundary—one his upbringing had silently enforced. That’s the reason why he wasn’t sure if he could do it again.

From this, we can draw a larger conclusion: Shin Okja didn’t just isolate Dan emotionally. She installed in him a framework that made affection seem inaccessible—something reserved for “real” families or television characters, not for someone like him. Without a nuclear family of his own, he wasn’t allowed to love—only to obey, endure, and work. The media he consumed (he likes TV K-dramas) mirrored this unspoken rule. The love stories weren’t his to emulate, but to passively observe as if from behind glass. In fact, it was likely his grandmother who chose those dramas, reinforcing a narrow script: love was something that happened to others, while he remained the background figure—responsible, silent, useful.

This disconnect becomes even more apparent in chapter 30, when Dan observes Joo Jaekyung and Choi Heesung posing together. (chapter 30) He blushes and wonders why. (chapter 30) It’s a telling moment: Dan isn’t used to feeling attraction and desire, let alone recognizing it. He never bought posters of celebrities, never fantasized. That world—the glamorous world of affection, attention, and beauty—was never his. (chapter 30) His grandmother may have been a fan of Heesung, but I doubt that Dan never allowed himself that luxury. So his reaction is a rupture: he is suddenly pulled out from behind the glass, facing emotions he was never taught to hold. But there’s more to it. Dan’s extreme shyness around nudity (chapter 30) —despite already having been seen naked by Jaekyung (chapter 30) —suggests something deeper than modesty. When he rushes to hide his underwear and blushes merely at brushing his teeth next to someone (chapter 30), it becomes evident: Dan is not accustomed to physical closeness or shared domestic spaces. These are not reactions of a man with just sexual trauma—they point to someone raised without the warmth of daily intimacy.

Thus I couldn’t help myself thinking that it is unlikely Shin Okja ever bathed him or dressed him as a child. Their emotional distance is reflected in the boundaries Dan maintains even in private. In this light, the scene where Dan wears a shirt with a visible clothing tag on his back takes on symbolic weight: (chapter 5) He had to take care of himself, dressed on his own. He had to act like an adult, as his role was to assist his grandmother: (chapter 65) This raises the possibility that someone else—most likely his mother—was his primary caregiver in early childhood. She would have changed his diapers, held him close, and kissed him gently. (chapter 65) This hypothesis and interpretation gets reinforced with the champion’s first kiss on his cheek (chapter 44) and ear (chapter 44) For me, without realizing it, Dan reproduced those gestures. These actions can not come from Shin Okja, as we only see her caressing or patting her grandson. The progression is striking. It moves away from eroticism (kiss from the lips) (chapter 44) and toward something far more intimate and protective. These are not the kisses of seduction, but of affection—almost maternal in their tone. Hence the MMA fighter got patted later: (chapter 44) They suggest care, comfort, and emotional presence. This is crucial, because it reveals that for Dan, a kiss is not about arousal or conquest. It is a language of love. They carry the flavor of instinct. These are the kinds of kisses a child might have once received, or given, in moments of safety and connection.

The way Dan moves through these kisses suggests something primal, tender, and exploratory. His gestures resemble those of animals—like a mother expressing affection to her cub. Such an attitude could only encourage his partner to reciprocate such closeness, like a cub seeking warmth. As noted in earlier analysis [For more read this essay], nuzzling (chapter 44) is a behavior shared by felines and wolves alike: a subtle act of comfort, trust, and bonding. Wolves nuzzle to soothe and reassure. Leopards nudge to display affection without threatening dominance. Dan’s pecks (chapter 44) reflect this balance of caution and care, power and softness.

These gestures are not shaped by media, romance tropes, or societal expectations. They are shaped by something older than words—a kind of emotional muscle memory. His body remembers how to love, even if his mind has forgotten. And in that moment, Dan is free from the grandmother’s world of rules and repression. Shin Okja represents structure, duty, and emotional withholding—society. But Dan’s kisses are a return to nature. They are unmediated, sincere, and free from transactional logic. Think of how Boksoon treated her puppies (chapter 57) (chapter 57)—licking them not out of instinct alone, but to reassure and bond. (chapter 57) During that summer night’s dream, Dan’s body mirrored this wordless care. That’s why he could laugh so genuinely like a child after witnessing his “pet’s reaction”. (chapter 44)

This contrast reveals why Shin Okja’s narrative of him being an orphan “from birth” is not just inaccurate (chapter 65) —it is ideological. She has never kissed him that way so far. It is her attempt to erase the past and shame. Therefore she removes whatever freedom or natural affection Dan once experienced, and to replace it with a world where love must be earned through sacrifice, duty and obedience, not given freely. The kiss becomes a reclaiming not just of emotional intimacy, but of a self that existed before control. His instincts speak louder than memory—and in that, Dan tells a truth that cannot be overwritten. And now, you comprehend why the doctor couldn’t identify the champion’s action as a kiss (chapter 15) It was not because he didn’t know what a kiss was, but because it didn’t align with what he unconsciously believed a kiss should be. In other words, the champion’s gesture triggered his memory which mirrors what the athlete was experiencing in the locker room. (chapter 14) Therefore the physical therapist astonishment, “What’s this?” was not naïve; it was disoriented. Somewhere deep within, Dan had internalized a different model of kissing: one that reflected comfort, not conquest; affection, not arousal. The kiss he received was too strange, too fierce—it violated a definition he didn’t even know he had. His body knew how to kiss, but it remembered a different type of kiss altogether. The latter stands for love and as such emotions. Under this new light, my avid readers can comprehend why the physical therapist made the following request from his fated partner: (chapter 15) He needed to be “warned” in order to control his “heart”. As you can see, doc Dan had an innocent definition of the kiss. Therefore it is not astonishing that the wolf’s first kiss confused him so deeply: it shattered the only blueprint he had for intimacy.

This adds a tragic dimension to Dan’s unfamiliarity with touch. It’s not that he never had it—he once did. But it was taken from him, and what followed was not nurturing, but restriction through silence, erasure,money and work. His discomfort with nudity and closeness (chapter 65) is not just about sexual shame. It’s about lost comfort, severed memory, and the long silence of a child never told the truth, the vanishing of his parents. Under this new light, Jinx-philes can understand why the main lead could never discover sexuality and as such never went through puberty.

In this light, Shin Okja’s praise of hard work and her obsession (chapter 65) with success and fortune take on a new, darker meaning. Her restraint around love and sexuality wasn’t only generational—it was strategic. She reinforced a worldview in which success, debt repayment, and self-denial were Dan’s only legitimate currencies. For her, love, on the other hand, was frivolous, indulgent, even dangerous. She only treasures the relationship between the protagonists, as such a friendship is useful. It serves her interests, that way she can still control doc Dan’s fate. In other words, she only views relationship as transactional. The smiling family in A Fine Line (chapter 30) becomes a cruel illusion: a representation of the affection he was trained to uphold but never to receive. On the other hand, the kiss in the penthouse becomes testimony—not of desire, but of a forgotten lineage of tenderness. (chapter 44) It was not Dan’s first kiss with Jaekyung; it is his reclaiming of emotional truth.

Kisses without consent

And here, another crucial dimension enters the stage: consent. The kiss in the locker room was not only unexpected—it was uninvited. Note that in the locker room, the champion used his hand to touch his lover’s lips. (chapter 14) Jaekyung repeated such a gesture, as seen in chapters 24 (chapter 24), and again in 64 (chapter 64). These gestures were not expressions of tenderness, but acts of dominance, mirroring how the celebrity was taught to treat intimacy: not as an exchange, but as an imposition. His behavior echoes Cheolmin’s earlier suggestion (chapter 13) where a little touch was functional. On the other hand, the suggestion framed “affection” as a form of fun and entertainment, meant to soften the experience and shift the focus toward the partner. While Cheolmin’s comment was not malicious—in fact, it encouraged Jaekyung to become gentler and more attentive—it still fell short of true emotional connection. Why? It was a medical suggestion, meant to protect Dan’s fragile state. The kisses in episodes 14 were to protect the physical therapist. They were initially functional, a mean to achieve a goal before becoming a habit.

This misunderstanding also illuminates Jaekyung’s mindset. The champion had never seen a kiss as something requiring consent, care, or emotional meaning. He had likely never received such a kiss himself—especially not from a maternal figure. The implication was that in his mind, kisses are tools for relaxation, not intimacy; strategies for pleasure, not signs of affection. Thus he asked doc Dan at the hostel: (chapter 63) Fun is not the same as love, and this distinction matters deeply for someone like Kim Dan, who associates kissing with emotional safety and love, not performance or play. This explicates why he refused to be kissed in episode 63: (chapter 63)

And such actions (grabbing the doctor’s face for a kiss) shaped Dan’s reaction. During the “magical night” in chapter 44, the physical therapist copied Jaekyung’s earlier gesture —he grabs his partner’s face, too. (chapter 44) Yet, the intention behind this gesture is fundamentally different. While the wolf’s kisses were abrupt and consuming (chapter 44), Dan’s were soft, exploratory, almost reverent. His lips touched not just his lover’s mouth, but his cheek and ear—tender sites that bypass eroticism in favor of emotional intimacy. These weren’t prolonged, devouring kisses. They were pecks, small and deliberate. They mirrored affection, not possession.

This mirrored gesture reveals something powerful: that Dan’s body had internalized the champion’s movement, but his heart translated it into a new language—one of consensual, innocent affection. Through this contrast, Jinx subtly rewrites the significance of a kiss: not as something to be taken, but something to be offered. It is precisely through Dan’s innocent and instinctive response that the reader is guided toward understanding the importance of consent, of emotional resonance, and of redefining touch as something more than just a prelude to sex. So should Jaekyung later discover that Dan had never kissed anyone before, the realization doesn’t just reveal a lie (chapter 3) —it forces the wolf to ponder on the meaning of a kiss and his relationship with the physical therapist.

Klimt’s The Kiss and the Denial of the Mouth

The cheek and the ear, (chapter 44) often overlooked in romantic tropes, Yet here, they become sacred sites of intimacy, echoing the symbolic restraint found in Gustav Klimt’s painting The Kiss. It is the painting in the middle of the illustration. In that iconic artwork, the man does not kiss the woman on the mouth, the traditional locus of erotic desire. Instead, his lips are placed upon her cheek—a gesture that suggests reverence, not possession; vulnerability, not domination.

This parallel is not incidental. Klimt’s composition, saturated in gold and enveloping the lovers in a cocoon of ornament, gives the moment a sense of timelessness and sanctity. Likewise, in Jinx, Dan’s kiss bypasses lust and aims straight for emotional resonance. His kiss is not a prelude to sex; it is the articulation of emotional trust, maternal memory, and innocent longing. In this light, the cheek and ear become hallowed spaces where intimacy is not consumed, but offered. The problem is that during that night Joo Jaekyung was drunk, hence he couldn’t understand the meaning of such actions.

This moment reveals a stark contrast with the world that Jaekyung has known. For most of his life, touch was functional, performative, or controlling—something done to achieve a goal, to assert dominance, or to maintain emotional distance. (chapter 44) But Dan’s kiss disrupts that entire framework. It is small, almost imperceptible, but seismic in meaning. It asks nothing. It takes nothing. It simply is—and in that stillness, it unsettles the champion more than any act of aggression could. (chapter 44)

The symbolism deepens when we reflect on Jaekyung’s own evolution. He begins the story believing that conquest lies in performance—through physical power, sexual prowess, and unrelenting dominance. But as he stands before this soft, reverent kind of love, he encounters something far more disarming: gentleness. Vulnerability. A kiss that does not inflame the body (chapter 44) but stirs the soul. Therefore it is not surprising that later doc Dan is covered with bite marks. (chapter 45)

The purer the kiss becomes, the more threatening it feels—because it exposes him. It demands no proof, no role, no mask. And that is perhaps why Jaekyung, despite all his experience with bodies, remains a novice when it comes to the heart. In bypassing the mouth, Dan bypasses Jaekyung’s defenses. He offers not seduction, but sacred contact. And for a man raised in conquest, that is the most intimate violation of all.

Has the Champion Ever Been Kissed Before?

Like mentioned above, I could determine that the athlete had never been kissed before, especially by a “mother”. He didn’t even know that his ears were sensitive to the touch. (chapter 44) Moreover, I have already outlined that the athlete associates kissing to protection and pleasure which were suggested by his hyung Cheolmin. Therefore my avid readers can understand why I come to the following conclusion. It was indeed the champion’s first kiss in the locker room.

However, my theory is based on other points as well. One of the other reasons is related to his nightmare with the unknown ghost. (chapter 54) When he was young, he had to face an abuser. Notice that the man’s face was very close to the champion’s (chapter 54). Thus I interpret that for the champion, the face represents not only his vulnerability, but also a source of danger. That’s the reason why he couldn’t hide his displeasure and frustration, when he faced this “lover”. (chapter 2) Thus I am assuming that in his eyes, a kiss could only be perceived as a threat. Besides, the anonymous abuser was even laughing in front of his face (chapter 54) , which means that the champion must have internalized “laugh” as mockery and contempt. That’s why he was so upset, when he was provoked by Randy Booker: the fighter’s words and actions had triggered his repressed memories. (chapter 14) Thus I interpret that for the main lead, the mouth is not a site of tenderness but a battlefield—one linked to mockery, humiliation, and violation. It evokes the memory of confrontations like the one with Randy Booker, which reignited repressed trauma rather than surface-level anger. This is why it’s so difficult for him to associate a kiss with affection or love. The gesture, meant to signify intimacy for most, is for him an unconscious echo of danger.”

And what did the doctor do during that wonderful night? (chapter 44) He couldn’t hide his joy by the champion’s funny reaction and laughed. And how did the protagonist react to this? Not only his face expressed his dissatisfaction, but also he silenced his partner with a kiss right away: (chapter 44) This signifies that unconsciously, the athlete has long associated fun and laugh with humiliation, exposure, and powerlessness. Laughter—especially in close physical proximity—did not signal joy or affection in his past; it echoed mockery from a position of dominance. Thus, when Dan laughed innocently during their intimate moment, Jaekyung’s body reacted as if to shut down a threat. His abrupt kiss was not a romantic gesture but a reflex: a way to regain control, to interrupt the emergence of vulnerability, and to erase the echo of past humiliation. And now pay attention to the continuation of this sudden kiss: (chapter 44) Joo Jaekyung is leading the kiss, he is regaining control over their relationship. It reinforces the idea that the wolf’s kiss was not merely about passion, but about reclaiming dominance and halting a shift in power. Just moments earlier, Kim Dan’s laughter had opened a space of emotional intimacy and lightness, which the champion was not prepared to face. The kiss, now prolonged and intensified, becomes the sportsman’s way of reasserting control over a situation that was slipping into unfamiliar emotional territory.

Notice how Dan’s eyes remain open, gazing at Jaekyung. This contrast is striking: while the kiss is physically intimate, there’s a clear emotional imbalance. Dan is present and aware, while Jaekyung is almost consuming—driven by instinct and buried fear. The intensity of the kiss, paired with the previous silencing gesture, marks a moment where physical closeness masks emotional retreat. It’s not yet an act of mutual trust—it’s still shaped by Jaekyung’s attempt to neutralize discomfort, to steer the interaction back into territory he understands: dominance, silence, and physicality. Under this new light, it dawned on me why the champion could only reject this magical night the next morning. (chapter 45) The marks on the doctor’s body were evidence that he was no longer in control. They weren’t just signs of a physical encounter—they were witnesses to something far more threatening: vulnerability, softness, and reciprocity. In the night, swept up by instinct and unspoken longing, the wolf had allowed himself to be touched—not just physically, but emotionally. But by morning, the spell was broken. His gaze didn’t linger on Kim Dan with affection—it darted instead to the bruises and scratches as though they were accusations.

What horrified him (chapter 45) wasn’t just the pain he might have inflicted—it was the realization that the balance of power had subtly shifted. The man who had always dictated the terms of their relationship had surrendered to something unfamiliar: tenderness, emotional closeness, and shared desire. The fact that Kim Dan initiated affection, even kissed him voluntarily, shattered Jaekyung’s script. For someone who conflated feelings with threat, and dominance with safety, this reversal was unbearable.

And so, the rejection wasn’t cold—it was defensive. He had to reclaim his distance before the emotional reality could catch up with him. Because to accept the night as mutual would be to recognize that he had been wanted, not used (chapter 45) —and that he, in turn, had wanted Dan back. This terrified him more than any bruise ever could.

But let’s return our attention to episode 44. (chapter 44) In this context, the kiss becomes a complex act of both silencing and self-protection. It was a mixture of unconscious attachment and learned defense—an attempt to rewrite a script that his body remembered all too vividly. This continuation corroborates my earlier observation—Jaekyung unconsciously connects laughter and joy with vulnerability and mockery (chapter 37), and kissing becomes his emotional brake pedal. It’s not simply an act of love, but a means to regulate, or even drown out, what he cannot yet name or accept: that he is being loved. It is not random that I included the scene from episode 37: he heard laughs from the other room. For him, such a noise must have sounded like a disrespect and mockery, triggering his past trauma. And he was not entirely wrong in the sense that they were eating behind his back (chapter 37) It was, as if they were mocking him because of his forced “diet”. No wonder why the champion is barely seen laughing and prefers seriousness. At the same time, I can grasp why the athlete feels close to Park Namwook, as the latter stands for these exact notions: work, money and seriousness. Fun is not part of his world and vocabulary, therefore he punished Joo Jaekyung for sparring with doc Dan.

Another clue for this hypothesis is how the green-haired tried to “seduce” the athlete. (chapter 2) Though his face was close to the star’s, he didn’t attempt to kiss him. In fact, he proposed him a fellatio, a sign that the champion had never allowed anyone to get close to his “face”. Finally, observe how he reacted, when the uke in episode 55 attempted to kiss him: (chapter 55) Not only he rejected him, but also he pushed him violently so that the latter was on the floor. (chapter 55) The celebrity even ran away: a sign that the allowing someone approaching his face is perceived as something uncomfortable and threatening. At the same time, that moment exposes the kiss as something sacred—one that cannot be duplicated without emotional violation. This shows that for the champion, the meaning of a smooch has evolved. It is no longer perceived as a source of fun and a mean to gain something.

There exists another evidence for this interpretation. Once Joo Jaekyung returned home, he had a recollection of the night in the States. (chapter 55) He couldn’t forget doc Dan’s face, the latter excited him, a sign that for the champion, the face in general has been a source of pain, yet thanks to doc Dan, the latter has become a source of “comfort and joy”. (chapter 66) When he saw his face for the first time, he didn’t realize that he was already under the hamster’s spell. Striking is that he even focused on his chin and lips, a sign that he desired to kiss them. One thing is sure. The champion treasured the doctor’s face. After their separation, it is not surprising that the wolf felt the need to see his face.

That’s how I realized why the athlete initially rejected the doctor’s advances in the States(chapter 39) before requesting a fellatio: (chapter 39) The main lead’s head was very close to the champion’s face, thus he must have felt uncomfortable. Secondly by acting this way, the doctor was gradually gaining power over their relationship. For the wolf, dominance is everything, an indication that in his past he felt defenseless and weak. His “opponent”, the mysterious ghost, had the upper hand. Moreover, the fellatio created a distance between them, where the fighter could expose his superiority. And note how doc Dan behaved under the influence of the drug: (chapter 39) He caught his fated partner by surprise, when he suddenly kissed him, mirroring the champion’s past behavior. This panel corroborates that for the doctor, a kiss is the symbol of love. The champion was not happy with this kiss too, for the latter meant that he was no longer controlling their relationship. Yet, after hearing the doctor’s confession during that night, the athlete no longer resisted his partner’s kisses. (chapter 39) For the first time, he accepted Dan’s initiative—both physically and emotionally. Compare it to his attitude before: (chapter 39) here, he still has his eyes wide open, a sign of vigilance. These kisses from doc Dan (chapter 39) mark a turning point in Jaekyung’s arc: he begins to lower his defenses, allowing Dan not only into his personal space but also into a position of gentle agency within their relationship. The kiss no longer represents a threat; it becomes an opening and a sign of trust.

However, it occurred to me that the star didn’t recollect those kisses from doc Dan, rather their intercourse in the States (chapter 55) and in the penthouse (chapter 55) These memories represent the moment where the athlete felt strong and had the upper hand in their relationship. These images reveal that Joo Jaekyung hasn’t realized the signification of the kiss yet. For him, they don’t seem important. This exposes that the athlete has not associated kiss with love and affection yet. At the same time, we have to envision that a smooch is strongly intertwined with equity and trust. (chapter 28) And in episode 14, it was clear that the star still felt superior to his companion, therefore the kiss had no special meaning. As you can see, everything is pointing out that Joo Jaekyung had never been kissed before. And what does a kiss symbolize? Not only attachment, but also purity and innocence.

Finally, I would like Jinx-philes to recall the reminder from the green-haired uke: (chapter 42) According to him, doc Dan was not different from him. However, he was wrong. It is because the champion had kissed him!! Moreover, the celebrity had allowed doc Dan to kiss him as well. Besides, how did the champion name his past lovers? They were toys… normally people don’t kiss playthings. And now, imagine that doc Dan were to discover that Joo Jaekyung had his first kiss with him. This revelation would not only make him realize that Joo Jaekyung loves him, but also he could be wondering why the athlete had never done such a thing before, though he had past lovers. YES, the “first kiss” could be the trigger for both characters to question their respective past and perceive their fated partner correctly.

To conclude, the absence of kissing reveals that those relationships were purely transactional. They could not be dating. In contrast, Dan is the only one Jaekyung ever kisses. Later, when Jaekyung tries to replicate that kiss with the new “uke”, he recoils. (chapter 55) He cannot bring himself to kiss someone else. That moment exposes the kiss as something sacred—one that cannot be duplicated without emotional violation. In other words, he was one step closer to the truth: the kiss is strongly intertwined with attachment and feelings.

So for me, the abuser is the reason why the champion kept people at arms length. He felt insecure and threatened…. He had not only be cornered, but also silenced and ridiculed which seems to reinforce my other hypothesis that the star was abused sexually by an adult in the past. [For more read Guilty Truth ⚖ Or Dare 🤥🤡- part 2 ( locked)]

From my perspective, it was his first kiss, yes, but it came tangled in past fear and trauma. (chapter 54) This nightmare reflecting his childhood imply the absence of kiss, but more importantly intimacy is strongly connected with dominance, bullying and destruction. No wonder why the champion rejected intimacy later. Only with time—and Dan’s persistent tenderness—can the wolf begin to untangle touch from threat, and laughter from scorn. Hence I conclude that for the champion, face to face was a very uncomfortable position. This would explain why he felt the need to punch people… unconsciously, the punch is directed at his past abuser. And each time, he was insulted and provoked by his opponents, look how he reacted later: he targeted their face, the eyes and mouth. (chapter 15) (chapter 52) In that context, a kiss could never be affection, but vulnerability. A risk.

Virginity, Secrecy, and Misunderstanding

Both characters are wrapped in illusions about each other. Jaekyung likely assumes Dan has kissed others (chapter 3), based on Dan’s vague claim of prior partners. Yet Dan has never kissed anyone before. The kiss becomes his true moment of loss, a quiet confession through action. Conversely, Jaekyung’s own discomfort shows that he, too, is untouched in this particular way. When Dan tries to kiss Jaekyung again, and he instinctively rejects it, it reveals just how unprepared he is for affection. They are both unaware that the other is emotionally “pure” in this regard, and that makes the kiss a shared revelation.

Redefining Seduction: From Transaction to Intimacy

Since Kim Dan internalized sex as a form of debt repayment and professional obligation (chapter 67), Jaekyung must reinvent his approach. He cannot rely on dominance, strength, or sexual performance to win Dan’s heart. If he wants true connection, he must learn a new language—one built on gestures of affection, softness, and presence. This process also involves separating his public persona from his private longing. Joo Jaekyung, the champion, cannot seduce with spectacle. But Jaegeng, the man, might learn to express love through a simple touch, or a well-timed kiss. The redefinition of seduction is not just about Dan’s healing; it is about the wolf’s reclaiming his own right to feel and give love. And in my opinion, that process has already started: (chapter 69) That moment was devoid of lust, stripped of performance, and free from power dynamics. Jaekyung didn’t lean in for a kiss; he didn’t touch Dan’s lips or body with any sexual intent. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the physical therapist in silent reassurance, tucking his face against Dan’s shoulder as though hiding from the world. This was not a champion claiming a prize—it was a man expressing affection. The embrace exposes that doc Dan belongs to his “world” and he trusts him. In this light, the embrace becomes a prelude to a kiss—not a literal one, but an emotional kiss: a meeting place of vulnerability and longing.

The dock, surrounded by water, reinforces this symbolism. Water is traditionally associated with emotions, the unconscious, and transformation. By choosing this setting, the narrative invites us to see the wolf stepping into unfamiliar emotional territory—not with fists clenched, but arms open. Unlike the brutal kisses of season 1, this gesture is wordless but intimate. It communicates what he cannot yet articulate: “You matter. You’re safe with me. And I want to stay.”

In that stillness, without a single word or erotic touch, Jaekyung begins to kiss Dan in the truest sense—by offering presence, by being real. It is not seduction, but invitation. Not a test of loyalty, but a revelation of it.

Where Will He Learn the Meaning?

Since neither Shin Okja (chapter 65) nor his past partners provided him with genuine and affectionate touch, Jaekyung must look elsewhere. (chapter 57) Boksoon and her puppies may become his new mirror. Boksoon leaks affection without condition. Her dogs kiss as instinct, not strategy. Here, Jaekyung might discover what he missed: that kisses are not weapons, nor rewards, but a language of trust. He will not mimic affection from film. (chapter 29: note that he did not select this scene to rekindle with the doctor, but the other scene) He will learn it from life, from watching how the innocent express care without shame or purpose.

Jaekyung is not a man trained to love with softness, and yet this is exactly what Dan demands. Through subtle, non-erotic kisses, Dan teaches the wolf that it is not brute force that binds people, but longing and happiness. Not noise, but quiet. Not climax, but the pause. In parallel, Dan also begins to reshape another deeply ingrained association: laughter. (chapter 27) In Jaekyung’s past, laughter had been a weapon—an expression of ridicule and cruelty from an abuser. (chapter 54) It echoed through his memory as a sound of danger, not joy. But Dan’s laughter is different. It is light, sincere, and warm. (chapter 44) Just as his kisses invite connection rather than conquest, his joy opens a new possibility: that laughter can be shared rather than endured. In learning to receive these signs of affection—and perhaps one day to return them—Jaekyung is not just falling in love. He is healing. He is discovering that love is not shown through domination or performance, but through trust, gentleness, and the courage to be vulnerable.

Conclusion: A Kiss Is Never Just a Kiss

In Jinx, the first kiss is not just a threshold of romance—it is a psychological rupture. Jaekyung’s inability to process it, and Dan’s unconscious channeling of maternal tenderness, reveal how much has been buried under silence, shame, and trauma. The kiss destabilizes old roles: fighter, caretaker, orphan, predator. It marks the beginning of truth. Not just between two men, but within each of them. And that is why it matters who kissed whom, and why, and whether it has ever happened before.

PS: And now, you know why only the readers laughed, when they saw Jaegeng dressed like that. (chapter 62) If someone had laughed in front of him and made fun of him, this would have reopened his old wounds.

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: Where The Heart💓 Spoke 💓🎶

My avid readers might have been surprised that I didn’t publish any essay for almost a month. I had two reasons for this hiatus. First, the last publications didn’t receive much attention, while I had invested a lot of time in them. Secondly, I was myself under a lot of stress, just like our champion Joo Jaekyung and the Webtoonist Mingwa. I needed myself a break. On the other hand, this doesn’t mean that I stopped analyzing this terrific Manhwa, quite the opposite.

The First Sound: Episode 69 and the Birth of the Heartbeat

When I first read episode 69 of Jinx, one small, fragile detail caught me by surprise — the sudden appearance of the champion’s heartbeat: BADUM (chapter 69). For the first time in this story, we as readers were allowed to hear Joo Jaekyung’s heart — not in battle, not in passion, not in rage — but in that suspended instant when he imagined Kim Dan missing, possibly forever. Since the author linked the BADUM with doc Dan (chapter 69) (chapter 69), she created the illusion that the physical therapist was embodying the MMA fighter’s heart. This scene resonated with me long after I closed the chapter.
And then I came across a fascinating article: Resonance Theory: Vibrating with Music. It explained how sound activates deep biological responses — how rhythm, tone, and vibration connect us to life itself. According to this theory, when we hear sound — especially rhythmic or emotionally charged sound — it does not remain a surface experience. It triggers responses in our nervous system, heart rate, breath, and emotional centers. Sound can bypass the defenses of the thinking mind and speak directly to the body.
This is why music can make us weep, why a heartbeat can evoke terror or tenderness — and why a single human voice can call us back from fear or despair, like in this scene: (chapter 69) Suddenly, the pieces clicked: the heartbeat in Jinx is not just a narrative sound effect. (chapter 69) It is a form of music — an embodied rhythm that signals life, love, and emotional awakening.

It was this article that first led me to reflect on why we so rarely hear heartbeat or music in the story — and why their presence or absence marks such a profound shift in the characters’ inner worlds.

Looking Back: The Silence of the Heart

As I began reflecting on this moment, I noticed how deliberately the manhwa had withheld the fighter’s heartbeats in earlier key scenes. Consider chapter 14: (chapter 14) Jaekyung, insulted and trapped in shameful memories, is wrapped in rage (chapter 14)— yet no heartbeat is heard. One might think, the absence of the heart racing implies the lack of fear. His emotions are real, but they do not connect him to life or to others. Why?

Because at that time, there was no one to lose. His world was transactional: lovers came and went; gym relationships were shallow and competitive; even his manager was more functionary than family. Without meaningful attachment, there was no fear of loss — and thus no reason for the heart to speak.

This absence of heartbeat is mirrored in Joo Jaekyung’s actions in that scene. In episode 14, after the humiliating confrontation, we see him drive his fist into the locker (chapter 14) — GUOOO, metal dented, yet no pain. Yet, Jinx-philes can see Badum Badum in that picture. Nevertheless it is connected to the physical therapist’s heart: he is scared of the athlete’s strength. On the surface, the champion’s gesture appears reckless — an act of a man who does not care for his body. But this is not pure “fearlessness.” In truth, the celebrity’s anger is masking deeper fear and suffering.
His mind, still trapped in past traumas, is locked onto an unseen enemy: the voice of his childhood abuser (chapter 54), who had called him trash, weak, pathetic, incapable. (chapter 54) The challenger, Randy Booker’s insult — calling him a “baby” (chapter 14) — triggered this buried wound, igniting a desperate drive to disprove that old accusation.
Yet the protagonist is not consciously aware of this. He has repressed his childhood so deeply that he fights not the present opponent, but a shadow from the past. In this state, he acts on instinct, driven by the frustration, rage and pain he cannot name. (chapter 14) There is no conscious heartbeat — because he is not present with himself. He is moving as a zombie: reactive, destructive, unthinking. His body acts, but his heart remains silent.

Heartbeat Scenes: Love, Fear, and Danger

As you can see, Jinx does show us heartbeat scenes earlier — not for the MMA fighter, but for the physical therapist and for other moments of crisis. These examples help us understand the emotional vocabulary of the heartbeat in the narrative:

❤️ Episode 44: Heartbeat of Love and Attachment

In episode 44, we hear (chapter 44) BADUM BADUM from Kim Dan’s heart as Jaekyung makes a move on him. His blushing face, wide eyes, and parted lips all signal that this is not fear — it is love, excitement, and emerging attachment.
This is the positive heartbeat — the one that invites us to risk feeling, to follow the pull of connection.

Indeed, Dan did follow his heart that night, therefore he made requests (chapter 44) and tried new things. He gave his lover pecks on his cheeks and ear (chapter 44). He chose intimacy, and chose to act from his own emotions. This gave him strength and courage. But by morning, he withdrew, the moment he met resistance and opposition. (chapter 45) He chose silence, unable yet to confess what that heartbeat had awakened.

💔 Episode 34: Heartbeat of Fear and Danger

By contrast, in episode 34, we witness a different kind of heartbeat — one driven not by love, but by survival panic.

When the protagonist first corners Choi Heesung and threatens him — (chapter 34), we see the actor’s confidence gradually vanishing. His mask begins to crack. In that moment, he realizes that in the VIP spa his celebrity status offers no protection. No manager, no Park Namwook, no audience is present. He is utterly exposed to the raw force of the champion’s anger and fist — and the physical threat is real.

His body betrays him: the darkness around the gaze, the unmistakable BADUM BADUM of his racing heart. Here, the heartbeat does not speak of longing or love. It is a visceral alarm bell, signaling vulnerability and fear.

And yet — this makes the next moment all the more revealing. Later in the same episode, the actor faces the main lead again — but this time Dan is present. (chapter 34) The confrontation repeats — Jaekyung threatens once more. Yet, there is no visible BADUM, BADUM here. Why? Don’t forget that just before, the actor gulped and blushed (chapter 34) — a clear sign of excitement, not fear. And still, his heart remains silent. This raises the question. Why was the actor not afraid of the MMA fighter? Because even if the words echo the previous threat, the perceived danger has changed. With doc Dan standing between them (chapter 34), the actor subconsciously knows: “He will not attack me here.” The champion made it clear that the physical therapist shouldn’t detect the actor’s presence. Doc Dan acts as an emotional shield, preventing true panic. The body no longer signals mortal danger — and so, no BADUM sounds.

In this, the manhwa subtly shows us:
Heartbeat is not simply about surface emotion. It reflects the perceived reality of threat, loss, or love.
When danger and loss feel real → the heart races. (chapter 43) Here, the doctor feared the celebrity’s rejection. This scene was actually announcing that doc Dan was already in love with the “wolf”.
When one feels protected → the heart stays still, even if the mind recalls past fear.

Music as Substitute for the Heartbeat: Emotional Disconnection

There is another layer to this symbolism — and it lies in the rare appearances of actual music in Jinx. Music is introduced only twice:

1. Episode 21:
Kim Dan remembered his grandmother singing a lullaby (chapter 21) — a sound of comfort and life. But it was a distant memory, not part of his adult world.
Crucially, Dan was asleep (chapter 21) — having a nightmare. It is only when the grandmother returned to the bed and began to sing that his body calmed. (chapter 21) Here, sound functions as both comfort and erasure. The lullaby soothes — but it also covers an earlier silence. It replaces what was absent: the voice of his parent(s). The melody fills the void — yet beneath it, the deeper wound remains untouched. (chapter 21)
Thus the lullaby is not simply a token of love — it is also a symbol of emotional substitution. Dan carries this unresolved layer with him (chapter 21) — one that later echoes in his adult struggles with attachment and loss.

2. Episode 58 (season 2):
Outside, Heesung, Potato, and the landlord are singing and dancing (chapter 58) — vibrant, alive. But Dan sits apart. He is disconnected — his inner state does not resonate with the music. At that moment, he is preparing to abandon Jaekyung.

What struck me is this: Dan’s own heartbeat is absent in that scene. Though he thinks (chapter 58) “I am happy and at ease, but… why does my heart feel so heavy?” — it is as if the external music has replaced his internal rhythm. The joyous sound outside contrasts painfully with his own muted emotions. The music underscores his emotional disconnection and the inner weight he carries.

And here, the parallel with childhood becomes clear.
The cheerful music provides surface warmth — but the root pain of emotional rupture (with Jaekyung) is untouched.
Just like the lullaby once offered comfort without healing, the music here offers temporary relief, not true resolution.
In both moments, we see how music without heart resonance leaves the deeper wounds unaddressed — and why it is the sound of the heart, not external melody, that must ultimately speak.

3. Boksoon and the champion

In Dan’s case, music never fully reconnected him to life — it was merely a temporary surface. But Joo Jaekyung, guided not by a melody but by the raw bark of a dog, (chapter 65) finds his way back to the man he cares for.

Boksoon’s bark in episode 65 (chapter 65) is more than noise. It’s a resonant signal — not unlike the heartbeat. When she barks, it alerts Jaekyung to Dan’s trance. (Chapter 65) Moreover, the dog is capable of expressing her „worries and pain“. And for the first time, the champion follows a sound not of the crowd, not of a bell, but of life calling to life. (Chapter 65) Her bark anchors him, just as Dan once did. And it marks the moment Jaekyung becomes emotionally receptive not only to Dan, but to care itself — puppies, vulnerability, connection. In other words, her presence foreshadows Jaekyung’s emotional readiness to care for others beyond the ring. Having rediscovered and embraced his own vulnerability, his heart is gradually open to softness — to animals, to dependency, to affection.

In this light, Boksoon’s bark becomes a canine echo of Jaekyung’s heartbeat: both signal that something fragile and important is alive. That life is worth protecting. And that Jaekyung — no longer the zombie fighter — is becoming someone who hears, feels, and chooses to respond.

The Black Veil: Emotional Death and Substitution of Memory

We see this deepening in the very next beat. (chapter 58) During the happy party with the actor and Potato, Dan remembers his past lover — and we see the champion’s image under a black-and-white veil. It was, as if the sun was vanishing from his life. In that moment, Dan decided to detach himself from Jaekyung, to forget him. The champion is emotionally “dead” — unreachable, lost to him.

This may explain why after the death of the puppy, doc Dan goes toward the sea. Though in his trance, he is thinking of his grandmother (chapter 59), the reality is that work has long lost its meaning. He has no goal in his life in the end. The emotional gravity of his loss regarding Jaekyung is palpable, though the physical therapist is not realizing it. Jinx-philes should keep in their mind that in season 1, the protagonist used his grandmother as a shield to justify his transactional relationship with the celebrity — and here, perhaps again, she becomes a cover for deeper pain.

Sound, Resonance, and Biological Awakening

And so we return to resonance theory. As the article explains, sound activates deep biological responses. It connects us to life, bypassing intellectual defenses. Rhythm, tone, and vibration speak first to the body — to the breath, to the heartbeat, to the reflexes — before they are processed by the conscious mind.

In Jinx, we see this principle embodied again and again — and nowhere more clearly than in the key moments of Jaekyung’s awakening. At first, the BADUM — the sound of the heart — announces the body’s recognition of fear and attachment. (chapter 69) But as his emotional state deepens, the manhwa subtly shows that the language of the heart is not always written — it is felt, seen, heard in breath and gaze.

This becomes especially clear when Jaekyung reaches the dock. (chapter 69) There, as he sees a figure on the boat, his breath catches — for a moment, he believes it might be Dan. But as he draws closer, he recognizes his mistake. The man is not Dan. (chapter 69)

Now, on the dock, Jaekyung remains proactive — scanning for signs, seeking a solution. And when a small, fragile sound pierces the air (chapter 69) — “Umm” — we witness a subtle but profound shift.
Here, the heartbeat is no longer heard, but it is seen and felt: in the shallow breath (chapter 69), the audible HAA…, and in the dilated pupil. (chapter 69) His body speaks what the panel leaves unsaid — a visceral resonance of surprise, longing, and fragile hope.
And when his eyes finally meet Dan’s, we see it: relief floods through him. In that instant, his hardened facade dissolves. He appears young again — the boy beneath the champion’s armor emerges.
This marks not only the depth of his attachment, but also a profound shift in perception: he is no longer the “superior” in this bond. In that moment of relief, he begins to see Dan not as a child or subordinate, but as an emotional anchor, an authority figure — someone he can trust, someone to whom he can turn. (chapter 69) But before he moves, before he speaks, he just looks. Frozen in place, he engulfs Dan with his gaze (chapter 69) — eyes wide, breath caught. His pupil dilates, as if trying to capture and preserve the image of the person he feared lost. In that breathless instant, Dan becomes the apple of his eye — the one irreplaceable figure in his emotional world.

And then something even deeper shifts: the roles reverse. Dan is no longer the puppy. Jaekyung is. He becomes Jaegeng.

Why this transformation? Because despite everything — the pain, the fear, the trauma of the night before (chapter 69) — Dan does not scold him, reject him, or shrink away. He simply asks: (chapter 69) There is no accusation, no resentment, no judgment.

Unlike Baek Junmin or the mysterious ghost from Jaekyung’s past, who mocked (chapter 49) the fighter’s vulnerability and punished his needs, (chapter 54) Dan sees the man, not the mistake.

And so, for the first time in his life, Jaekyung experiences unconditional regard — not the kind that is bought with talent or won through dominance, but the kind that says: you are worth caring for, even when you make mistake or falter. And that’s why he clings to Dan (chapter 69) — not as a fighter needing a medic, but as a person giving affection and seeking warmth. And in Dan’s quiet presence, he finally finds someone who doesn’t shame his vulnerability — someone who holds space for both the man and the boy he has always been.The inner child from the athlete awakens — and with it, the first true opening of his heart. He is now reborn.

Revisiting Episode 44: Fear of Dependency and Fear of Loss

Here we can look back and understand earlier scenes more deeply.

In episode 44,Jaekyung’s heart had already begun reacting — but he could not name it. This is visible, when he questioned Dan: (chapter 44) What were those buttons? His heart. His breath. His body’s fear that Dan might vanish.

Every time he heard Dan leaving at night (chapter 45), his heart raced. But he mistook this for irritation (chapter 45) — not attachment. That is why he threatened to hire another doctor the next morning: he feared dependency and as such vulnerability. (chapter 45)

And there is one more layer. Before episode 69, even though Jaekyung feared Dan vanishing, he had never connected “vanishing” with death. (chapter 55) In his mind, people leave — they live elsewhere — life goes on. He never imagined irretrievable loss.

But now — seeing the empty house, the footprints on the ground, imagining Doc Dan bare feet while (chapter 69) walking into the sea (chapter 69): he has this revelation: Dan might not simply leave. He might disappear forever. This unbearable thought awakens his heart completely. (chapter 69) Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Mingwa connected his beating heart to his face. With this panel, she implied the huge awakening and the protagonist’s transformation. He is facing reality. He is accepting his mortality, his beating heart. He no longer views it as a discomfort.

Conclusion: When the Heart Spoke, Life Began

And here, the lesson deepens. In episode 14, Jaekyung’s self-destructive punch had shown us a man trapped by past traumas, acting on raw instinct. There was no heartbeat — not because he was fearless, but because his mind was not free. He was still a zombie: (chapter 29) moving through the world, but without true inner life. Hence his eyes were “empty”. (chapter 26)

But now, in episode 69, when the heart speaks (chapter 69), it teaches not only love — but emancipation. The BADUM announces the birth of a man who can finally think and feel for himself and for doc Dan. The resonance of the heart breaks the zombie trance. It awakens conscious presence.

And we can now see why this experience of fear was essential. (chapter 69) Until this moment, Jaekyung’s driving force had been to prove his mysterious childhood abuser wrong (chapter 54) — to erase the label of “weak, pathetic, incapable” that had haunted him.
This is why, in episode 67, when Dan asked him directly (chapter 67), Jaekyung could only remain silent. (chapter 67) He could not yet admit his worries, his vulnerabilities — not even to himself. To confess would be to risk blackmail, to risk being seen again as that helpless child.

Only by experiencing the true fear of losing Dan — a fear greater than his old shame — could he begin to open the sealed chamber of his heart.
And so, when the heartbeat came, it did not merely signal love. It marked the first break in the old defenses. The child within could finally begin to hope — not for victory, but for understanding, for acceptance. But there’s more to it.

But with that one heartbeat (chapter 69) — the BADUM that exploded in episode 69 — the jinx is broken. The undead becomes the living. His past, once the fuel of every punch, begins to fade. The rage that once drove him no longer holds its grip. He no longer needs to fight in order to prove that he isn’t weak — because someone has seen him at his most vulnerable and stayed. Under this light, my avid readers can grasp why the athlete hid his “growing attachment and dependency” behind the jinx. (chapter 65)

In focusing on Dan (chapter 69) — not as a subordinate or tool, but as a source of emotional stability — Jaekyung finally turns his gaze forward. His reason for fighting is no longer rooted in resentment, but in attachment. His strength no longer has to scream; it can protect. Hence he desires to embrace his companion and lover in front of others. (chapter 69) The curse is lifted. The zombie breathes. The jinx dissolves — and in its place, a human being emerges. No longer driven by resentment or fear, he begins to choose connection over rage, presence over instinct. This means, he will be less vulnerable to schemes.
And that, at last, is the beginning of his humanity.

And we must also notice what happens just before the embrace. (chapter 69) When Dan speaks, Jaekyung remains utterly silent. He does not reply — not because he does not care, but because he is emotionally disarmed. In that moment, words fail him.
His silence is a form of submission — the instinctive response of a boy overwhelmed by fear, reaching for safety.
And the embrace that follows is not the act of a champion, or a lover. (chapter 69) It is the embrace of a child seeking a parent — of one who has never known how to ask for comfort, but who now surrenders to the need for it.
The boy hugs, because the heart has spoken — and in that moment, the first true human bond is formed.

Yet true liberation still lies ahead. For emancipation can only be complete when he begins to open his heart fully to Dan — to speak, to share, to trust.

When the heart spoke — life began.
But not yet the life of a man. First, the awakening of the child within — the boy who had never been allowed to feel, who now looks at Dan with open eyes.
And only through love, only through trust, will this child one day become a man — free, whole, alive.

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: Confined Spaces 🚽, Hidden Wounds ❤️‍🩹

As you know, each illustration for an essay always always captures the main message of the analysis. Since the restroom serves as the background illustration, it becomes clear that the topic will focus on this location. However, the picture reveals another underlying theme: bullying. In Jinx, bullying is not always overt but often hidden beneath layers of social interaction. When Kim Dan visited elementary school, he got mocked by being called a bum (chapter 57). Similarly, when Joo Jaekyung faced his opponent Randy Booker, he was also verbally harassed (chapter 14) which visibly destabilized the champion. Then in chapter 49, Team Black failed to perceive the duality of appearances and reality: (chapter 49) the surface shows two athletes seemingly engaged in a normal, even friendly interaction – they are shaking hands -, while the panels reveal a darker undercurrent of verbal harassment and manipulation. (Chapter 49)

Strikingly, Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung are both connected to the restroom, a recurring space of emotional significance. For Kim Dan, it represents refuge and protection, while for Joo Jaekyung, it evokes exposure and humiliation. That is why the illustration portrays a ruined restroom on the left side. Yet, neither character uses this space to truly reflect on their circumstances. Instead, their reactions are dictated by ingrained survival mechanisms—Kim Dan withdraws into himself (chapter 61), while Joo Jaekyung represses his emotions and thoughts through “physical activities”. (chapter 55) This essay will explore how their experiences in the restroom space serve as a mirror to their past and reveal the psychological scars that shape their behaviors.

Restrooms vs. Bathrooms: A Key Distinction

Previously, in Season 1, the restroom always combined a shower and toilet. (chapter 14) (chapter 38) (chapter 47) However, in Season 2, the lavatory appears isolated for the first time, reinforcing a shift in symbolic meaning. This distinction helps to explain why restrooms (toilets/water closets) hold different meanings for the two protagonists. [for more read The duck🦆 and the dragon🐲 in the bathroom 🚿] Restrooms or toilets, often public and utilitarian, symbolize exposure, vulnerability, and societal judgment, where individuals are figuratively and literally exposed to others. In contrast, a bathroom, typically private, evokes intimacy and self-reflection (chapter 19) —a space where one is free to confront their inner selves without external pressures. In Jinx, the use of the restroom emphasizes the external pressures and the characters’ reactions to their environments, reinforcing their struggles with exposure and control. But how did I come to this realization?

Bullying and Stalking: Parallel Mechanisms of Control

It is related to Kim Dan’s behavior in episode 61. Why would he seek the lavatory and stand in front of the closed door? (chapter 61) Naturally, it is related to Joo Jaekyung’s behavior. The latter would meddle in his life. First, he forced him to treat him as patient. Then he acted, as if he was his friend by meeting Shin Okja. (chapter 61) The wolf reminded me of a stalker.

Ironically, bullying and stalking share striking similarities, as both involve an imbalance of power, unwanted attention, and the erosion of the victim’s sense of security. These dynamics mirror the framework of the childhood game “Truth or Dare,” where boundaries are tested (chapter 34), vulnerabilities are exposed, and participants are pushed to their limits. In the essay Guilty Truth or Dare ⚖ – part 1 (second version) I had already outlined the strong connection between bullying, the game and the champion’s past. Interesting is that in season 2, we discovered that the “hamster” had suffered such a fate. This could only reinforce my impression that the athlete shares the same pain than his soulmate. But let’s return our attention to the comparison between stalking and mobbing.

In this way, bullying and stalking act as real-life manifestations of the dangerous interplay between daring actions and withheld truths, forcing victims into cycles of fear, helplessness, and anxiety. And remember how I had developed the theory that Heesung might have been a victim of “stalking”, because he was seen in house slippers and had no jacket, though it was in the winter. (chapter 33) This would explain why Heesung was determined to hide the physical therapist’s whereabouts. (chapter 58) He saw in him a bully and even a stalker. His judgment was based on these two incidents: (chapter 58) He imagined that Kim Dan had been coerced to it, while the physical therapist always had the choice to refuse. Joo Jaekyung would never hurt the doctor.

Bullying often occurs in childhood, imprinting deep-seated fears and behavioral patterns that linger into adulthood. (chapter 57) Hence the doctor is now plagued with nightmares from the past. (chapter 59) The imminent death of his grandmother triggered his repressed fears. (chapter 57) Without her, he is now left with no protection. Stalking, in contrast, occurs later in life but evokes the same psychological distress—trapping victims in a cycle of hyper-awareness, helplessness, and anxiety. What makes stalking even more insidious is that it often mimics past experiences of bullying, dragging the victim back into a state of learned helplessness.

Joo Jaekyung, unfamiliar with being ignored by someone he values (chapter 61), reacts with pursuit. His behavior mirrors the tendencies of a stalker—not out of malice, but because his entire life was shaped by the belief that to be ignored is to be erased and forgotten. (chapter 55) In childhood, he learned that only strength could secure attention (chapter 26) (chapter 54), so when Kim Dan refuses to yield to him, Jaekyung instinctively fights back. (chapter 60) He tracks him down, calls him repeatedly (chapter 61) with the hope to have a conversation with him. (chapter 61) Deep down, he wants to be part of his life. Hence he moves next to Kim Dan’s house as his final attempt. (chapter 61) To Jaekyung, dominance and control are how relationships function, yet due to the doctor’s silent treatment, he is incited to change his approach. But to Kim Dan, these actions trigger memories of past tormentors, reviving the very feelings that once sent him running to the restroom for solace. The same space that shielded him as a child now becomes his only escape from Jaekyung.

Kim Dan’s Trauma Response: The Restroom as a Refuge

The physical therapist’s bullying experience adds another layer of complexity to his relationship with the restroom. In Chapter 57, (chapter 57) he is mocked in the open air, likely in a schoolyard, surrounded by peers. This public ridicule forced Kim Dan to develop a survival strategy—seeking the toilet at school for privacy and protection. There he could cry and vent his negative emotions, for he could no longer complain about his suffering at home. (chapter 57) As a child, he was bullied, humiliated, (chapter 57) and cornered, leading him to associate confined spaces with protection. The restroom was his only escape from ridicule, his sanctuary where he could momentarily regain control. This explains why he went crying there, when he heard the terrible news about his grandmother. (chapter 47)

In adulthood, this habit resurfaces due to Joo Jaekyung’s actions, which unconsciously mirror the behavior of a stalker—persistent, invasive, and overwhelming. The inability to escape fuels Kim Dan’s negative emotions. However, contrary to the past, he is not crying or on his knees. He is now standing, a sign that he is getting stronger mentally. Like mentioned in the previous essay, his thoughts are now showing more resent and anger. Consequently, his gaze is surrounded by darkness. (chapter 61) Since he can not escape the champion, he decides to ignore him.

The best protection against bullying is a healthy self-esteem

If your child is quickly intimidated, this will motivate the perpetrator to continue the nasty game. However, if your child reacts confidently and lets the insults bounce off him or her, the other children may soon stop enjoying it.  quoted from https://www.familienportal.nrw/en/6-bis-10-jahre/krisen-konflikte/bullying-school

This shows that he is regaining confidence thanks to the “dragon”. In other words, in Episode 61, Kim Dan’s retreat into the restroom reflects this ingrained response, showing how deeply his childhood trauma influences his present. This explicates why he is trying to recall the champion as a selfish and ruthless man. (chapter 61) What caught my attention is that he is hiding his bruise on his arm. This exposes his denial about his own physical condition. He wants to act, as if nothing was wrong.

Unlike Jaekyung, who fears his own reflection (chapter 55) – the mirror is very low -, Kim Dan retreats into memories to rationalize his pain. Instead of processing his suffering, he shifts blame to Jaekyung, using the restroom space to wall himself off emotionally. The restroom in Jinx thus acts as a metaphor for entrapment—whether through self-isolation or forced exposure, neither character is truly free from their past.

Because of his denial and self-deception, the restroom loses its function as protection which coincides with his increasing self-esteem. On the other hand, the restroom represents now a source of danger. That’s the reason why I am anticipating that something terrible could happen in this place. Don’t forget that the toilet in the States was connected to the doctor’s illness: (chapter 38) So he could faint there or hurt himself and he would have no one by his side. Don’t forget that this place stands for seclusion and privacy.

But there’s more to it.

Since the bullying started in elementary school (chapter 57), it is clear that the kids were not thinking of sex or using the restroom to assault the little boy. However, we should question ourselves how this rumor about Kim Dan being an orphan started. (chapter 57) The role of a leader in bullying is necessary because their words and actions set the tone and direction for the group. Without a clear leader, group dynamics may remain neutral or passive, but a leader’s initiative legitimizes aggression and creates a structured environment for bullying to thrive. This connection to his childhood bullying raises an intriguing theory about the leader of the mob that tormented him. In Chapter 57, four children are shown mocking him, but the boy in the orange t-shirt stands out—his full face, hairstyle, and outfit are visible. Notably, a newly hired physical therapist introduced in Chapter 54 (chapter 54) bears a striking resemblance to this boy, leading to the possibility that this new character could be Kim Dan’s childhood bully. Given Jinx’s themes of positive psychology and confronting past demons, it is plausible that Kim Dan will encounter this schoolmate again. Such an interaction could force Kim Dan to address his unresolved trauma and reexamine his perceptions of strength and vulnerability. Moreover, don’t forget that the doctor in green saw the champion in a terrible shape who had admitted that he had drunk the night before. (chapter 54) And in episode 61, the main lead announced to Park Namwook that he had to fire the physical therapist. (chapter 61) I sense some retaliation here.

Joo Jaekyung‘s hidden suffering

And the moment I connected the restroom to bullying, I realized why Joo Jaekyung would dislike to share the bathroom with others. (chapter 08) It is because in his mind, this place is associated with toilets in general. That’s how it dawned on me that the athlete could have been harassed at school, but contrary to the physical therapist, it took place later. The leader was Baek Junmin who hid behind the “mob”. (chapter 49) Because he utilized the expression “how you were as a kid”, it signifies that the MMA fighter was not only older, but also an adult, whereas the champion must have been a teenager. And now, you comprehend why Baek Junmin acted like a friendly athlete in front of the public: (chapter 49) It is because if his past actions (an adult bullying a teenager) were to be exposed in the media, there is no doubt that no one would see him as a champion. (chapter 49) People could discern his true personality: he was nothing more than a thug. Moreover, he would be perceived as a cheater, because he used others and his seniority to torment a child or teenager. At the same time, since Joo Jaekyung became a victim of bully later, the content about the mobbing should have been different. I am suspecting that he could have been targeted because of his homosexuality. (chapter 49) So we have to envision that he got assaulted in the school restroom, but everyone chose to close an eye to the situation. There exists two reasons why I am assuming that the restroom is linked to the champion’s suffering.

First, in episode 14, after getting verbally harassed by Randy Booker, the athlete went to the bathroom (chapter 14), but observe that next to him, there was the toilet. That’s the only time we see the toilet linked to the athlete in season 1. Interesting is that though he was alone in the room, he couldn‘t calm down. He even avoided to look at his own reflection. His behavior displays an immense stress and anxiety indicating that despite the presence of Park Namwook in front of the door, he didn‘t feel safe at all. (Chapter 14)

Then in episode 55, we see the champion going to the restroom for sex. (chapter 55) For the first time, he accepted someone other than Kim Dan in such a private room, a sign that the man was getting stronger mentally. However, while he was receiving a fellatio (chapter 55), he showed no reaction. In fact, his headache got even worse than before. (chapter 55) The champion’s passivity and migraine could be the symptoms of the athlete’s past suffering. His pain worsened in that place because of the past, but he didn’t realize it, for he was so focused on his soulmate. Secondly, the moment he was about to get kissed (chapter 55), he pushed the uke away and left the place (chapter 55).In this place, he could show vulnerability, yet he experienced that nothing bad happened to him. This explicates why after this experience is willing to remember and even reconnect with the doctor.

Contrary to Kim Dan whose body got bruised, the athlete’s past traumas are linked to his head and as such his memories. Hence he is now suffering from headaches. (chapter 61) In my opinion, the departure of Kim Dan forced the champion to be confronted with his repressed past. (chapter 54) While he calls his former rival and tormentor’s name and recollects his beating, he is not plagued with a migraine. This means that the real cause for Joo Jaekyung’s suffering (his headache linked to his repressed memories) is triggered by the attitude of his guardian. That’s the reason why he had a nightmare with the ghost of the past.

From my point of view, the fears experiences in episde 14 (chapter 14) are related to the words expressed by the abuser from this past: (chapter 14) The latter mocked him for being vulnerable and weak („pathetic“). Joo Jaekyung was compared to „trash“ because he was useless. (Chapter 54) There is no ambiguity that Randy Booker‘s insults had triggered the athlete‘s repressed memories and fears. Joo Jaekyung’s avoidance of mirrors suggests a fear of self-recognition—an unwillingness to face the vulnerability he tries so hard to suppress. His reaction mirrors the response of someone who has internalized a rigid sense of masculinity, where showing emotion is equated with weakness. The restroom, then, becomes a battleground where he unconsciously fights his past conditioning, yet he is unable to overcome it.

But how are the guardian’s words linked to the bullying? Since Kim Dan’s fate mirrors the star’s, I come to the following deduction. Their guardians shaped them in opposite ways, yet both were left emotionally stunted.

Guardians as Architects of Emotional Vulnerability

The guardians in Jinx—Kim Dan’s grandmother and Joo Jaekyung’s guardian —are pivotal figures in shaping their wards’ emotional landscapes. Through their contrasting philosophies, they unconsciously embedded patterns of emotional dependency and isolation, which continue to influence Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung’s present behaviors. The guardians’ responses to vulnerability, particularly in the face of bullying or hardship, set the foundation for the protagonists’ respective coping mechanisms.

Kim Dan’s Grandmother: Overprotection and Dependency

Kim Dan’s grandmother, with her constant refrain of (chapter 57) “You have me. I’ll always stay by your side,” cultivated a false sense of security but at the cost of Kim Dan’s autonomy and self-esteem. This overprotection became a double-edged sword—while shielding him from immediate harm, it left him ill-equipped to confront challenges on his own. She didn’t teach to have friends or seek help. By placing herself as his sole protector, she inadvertently taught Kim Dan to suppress his needs and desires in favor of compliance and silence.

This dynamic becomes especially evident in the aftermath of bullying. Instead of empowering Kim Dan to stand up to his tormentors or to assist him, her approach reinforced his tendency to retreat and confirmed the bullies’ words ruining his self-esteem. Her suffocating reassurance offered comfort but also fostered passivity, leading Kim Dan to seek solace in confined spaces like the restroom, both physically and emotionally. Hence he ended up with no friend.

Joo Jaekyung’s guardian: Emotional Isolation and Rigid Strength

In stark contrast, Joo Jaekyung’s father operated under a philosophy of emotional detachment. His words (chapter 54) imply that the fighter is not lovable, because he is useless and weak. He can only resolve his problem on his own and this through strength. His message instilled in Jaekyung a belief that vulnerability was synonymous with weakness. Instead of providing guidance or support during moments of hardship, his guardian emphasized self-reliance and resilience, equating worth with strength.

This approach left Joo Jaekyung emotionally stunted, unable to process his own feelings or seek help when needed. His relentless pursuit of dominance, whether in MMA or personal relationships, stems from this ingrained belief that strength is the only way to earn respect and avoid being discarded. The restroom, for him, became a site of humiliation, where vulnerability was laid bare and mocked, rather than a place of refuge. In addition, though Jaekyung likely does not consciously recognize it, the ghost’s treatment—emphasizing toughness and dismissing vulnerability—constitutes a betrayal of trust. As a child, Jaekyung needed emotional validation, guidance, and reassurance, but instead, he received criticism and was left to fend for himself. This breach of trust planted the seeds of betrayal trauma, which explains why we have not seen his “family” yet.

Truth and Dare: The Guardians’ Role in Perpetuating Cycles of Avoidance

The contrasting approaches of Kim Dan’s grandmother and Joo Jaekyung’s tormentor parallel the dynamics of the childhood game “Truth and Dare.” In this game, participants are forced to confront uncomfortable truths or take risky actions that test their boundaries. The guardians, when confronted with the harsh realities of bullying or their wards’ emotional needs, made choices that mirrored this dynamic.

  • Kim Dan’s Grandmother (Avoiding Truth, Choosing Dare): Faced with the reality of Kim Dan’s vulnerability, she chose to shield him rather than confront the deeper issue of his emotional growth. Her “dare” was her decision to take full responsibility for his well-being, creating an illusion of safety while neglecting the need to equip him with tools for self-reliance.
  • Joo Jaekyung’s Father (Avoiding Truth, Choosing Dare): When faced with his son’s emotional struggles, Joo Jaekyung’s father dared to dismiss them entirely, opting for a philosophy of “tough love” that denied vulnerability. His refusal to address his son’s emotional pain perpetuated a cycle of repression, forcing Jaekyung to internalize his struggles.

In both cases, the guardians avoided the truth of their wards’ emotional needs, choosing actions that perpetuated cycles of fear, dependency, or isolation. These choices highlight how avoidance and denial, much like in the game of “Truth and Dare,” can have lasting consequences. But why did they avoid truth in the first place? The answer lies in their unwillingness to confront their own shortcomings and take responsibility for their actions. Shin Okja refused to admit her inability to provide Kim Dan with the tools he needed to navigate the world independently, because she needed him more than anything. He was supposed to take her burden, once he was an adult. The silence about the absence of his parents is quite telling. She would be forced to tell the truth how they came to vanish.

As for the champion’s guardian, he hid behind the veneer of toughness, refusing to acknowledge that his neglect, alcohol abuse and rigid philosophy of self-reliance were harmful. I am quite certain that he is responsible for the manager’s biased perception: “spoiled child”. (chapter 7) At the same time, it shows that by asking to defend himself, he pushed the athlete to become a “fighter”. He needed to demonstrate his strength and worth constantly. Choosing truth would have required him to admit that his emotional detachment stemmed from his own fears of vulnerability and inadequacy. Instead, he projected these insecurities onto his son, perpetuating a cycle of emotional isolation and avoidance.

Conclusion: The Restroom as a Mirror to the Past

The restroom is a seemingly mundane place, yet in Jinx, it takes on a profound duality, reflecting the psychological wounds of both Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. For Kim Dan, it has long been a place of retreat (chapter 61), a shelter from external threats, a sanctuary where he could escape the ridicule and bullying of his past. For Joo Jaekyung, however, it represents something entirely different—an exposure of weakness, a space where he once cried as a child, likely subjected to ridicule or even physical harm. The restroom is where their pasts unconsciously collide, revealing how their respective traumas dictate their present behaviors and interactions.

For either of them to heal, they must first recognize how their pasts dictate their present. Kim Dan must learn that setting boundaries does not equate to abandonment, and Joo Jaekyung must realize that control and power are not the same as connection. Hence conversation is necessary. The restroom, once a place of refuge and exposure, may ultimately serve as a metaphor for change—a space where both men confront their wounds, not alone, but together.

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: Bruised 🩸 by Choices, Bound By Sacrifice 😭

Exploring Kim Dan’s Psyche

In the complex narrative of Jinx, Kim Dan’s psyche is an intricate web woven from his upbringing, life experiences, and conditioned beliefs. Episode 61 serves as a focal point for understanding his internal struggles, particularly through the symbolic appearance of a bruise on his arm. (Chapter 61) However, this moment is not isolated—it reflects patterns in his personality that have appeared throughout the series. (Chapter 11) (chapter 18) This essay delves into the significance of Kim Dan’s physical and emotional bruises, examining how they symbolize his suffering, internal conflict and transformation. I will examine Kim Dan’s conflicted emotions surrounding gratitude and debt, contrasting his interactions with Joo Jaekyung and his grandmother, Shin Okja. Additionally, I will explore how Kim Dan’s conditioned identity as a caregiver drives his choices, even in his current living situation with the landlord, where he unconsciously replicates past dynamics. Ultimately, I will elaborate how Kim Dan’s newfound awareness could reshape his identity and relationships moving forward.

By comparing Episode 61 to earlier scenes, we can uncover recurring themes of sacrifice and rejection of help, shedding light on how Kim Dan’s mindset continues to perpetuate his suffering. This essay aims to unravel his internal contradictions, demonstrating how his struggles with gratitude, self-perception, and consent are deeply rooted in his past and manifest in his present relationships.

Bruised Flesh, Silent Cries

The bruise on Kim Dan’s arm in episode 61 (chapter 61) serves as a profound symbol of his neglect, overexertion, and silent suffering. More than just a physical injury, it reflects his exhaustion, malnutrition, and inability to recognize his own limits. Despite being a visible mark of his struggles, it goes unnoticed, until the champion, Joo Jaekyung, becomes the first to see it. (Chapter 61) His unexpected reaction catches Kim Dan off guard, further emphasizing how disconnected the doctor has become from his own well-being. However, contrary to the past (chapter 11), Kim Dan is truly responsible for the contusion. He caused the injury by removing the needle from the drip. (chapter 60) By taking this action, he absolved Joo Jaekyung of any responsibility for the injury, but this is merely a superficial conclusion. (Chapter 61) On the hand the circumstances surrounding the bruise, where Kim Dan removed the needle on his own, provide insight into his psyche. The deeper cause of the bruise lies in Kim Dan’s declining health, which is intrinsically connected to his malnutrition and the neglect he faces from those around him. It is important to recall that Joo Jaekyung was explicitly informed that Kim Dan needed rest (chapter 60). Yet, with his insistence, (chapter 61), he forced the physical therapist to keep working, adding even more strain than before. Though the physical therapist attempted to voice his disapproval, (chapter 61), he ultimately had no choice but to comply, as his order came from the hospice director. (Chapter 61) And why did the director override Kim Dan’s need for rest? Money and free PR. Joo Jaekyung’s influence secured the director’s approval, disregarding the doctor’s well-being in favor of business interests. This conversation at the director’s office makes one thing clear: words hold no power against profit. An d that realization led me to another connection—every one of Kim Dan’s bruises is linked to exploitation, whether by authority, obligation, or financial influence.

Chapter 11Chapter 18Chapter 43

To summarize, all his bruises were linked to money. In episode 11 and 18, it was related to the debts and the loan shark Heo Manwook. Then in episode 43 it was because of the expensive present Kim Dan wanted to offer to his boss and idol. However, notice that just before making the decision to offer a birthday gift, Kim Dan had been encouraged by his grandmother to show his generosity and gratitude towards the athlete. (Chapter 41) It is clear that she was inciting him to work harder than before. This displays that Kim Dan was not allowed to rest. During this encounter, she didn’t ask him about his well-being either. And what is the link between these 3 episodes? The grandmother and her poverty. The latter was responsible for the loan.

And because of money, Kim Dan never went on his own to the hospital in order to get treated. That’s how it dawned on me how the halmoni’s neglect could be exposed. No hospital or doctor has a file about Kim Dan as patient. When Shin Okja was transferred to the hospice, the hospice director and doctor received her patient file, hence he could make the following prognostics: she didn’t have much time to live. (chapter 56) Kim Dan has only visited the hospital once, and this was solely due to Joo Jaekyung’s intervention. The latter needed medical attention himself (chapter 18) and took Kim Dan along, ensuring he was seen as an emergency patient. However, this visit was brief and lacked any comprehensive medical examination—no blood samples were taken, and his underlying health concerns remained undiagnosed. This omission further underscores the neglect Kim Dan has suffered, as even in a medical setting, his long-term health issues were overlooked.

In other words, the moment the main lead’s health condition worsens and he is brought to the hospice, it is likely that the medical staff will seek details regarding his medical history. Given that he has never received proper care, they may turn to his grandmother, Shin Okja, for information about his past treatments and health status. And what did the old woman confess to the gentle and kind celebrity? (chapter 21) He had never been healthy and strong. Moreover, when he joined them, at no moment the senior asked if he had gone to the doctor, though he had been sick before. (chapter 21) But back then, the champion didn’t pay too much attention to it. In my opinion, her response will likely reflect her established pattern of emotional detachment and deflection of responsibility. Rather than admitting her lack of concern for his well-being, she may shift blame onto the staff or Kim Dan himself (chapter 57). In the last case, she will downplay the severity of his condition, insisting that he has always been stubborn and independent. She could even mention her conversation, when she tried to convince Kim Dan to return to Seoul, but the latter refused to listen to her.

Shin Okja might express surprise or even mild indignation at the idea that Kim Dan has been suffering in silence. She could feign ignorance, claiming that he never shared his struggles with her or that she assumed he was capable of handling his own affairs. Her response may also reveal an attempt to protect her own image, deflecting any potential criticism of her negligence. At the same time, she might subtly imply that Kim Dan’s health issues are the result of his own choices—his insistence on working tirelessly, his rejection of her past attempts to offer him food (chapter 5), or his general reluctance to ask for help. He rejected the athlete’s help and concern. (chapter 60) In addition, Jinx-philes should recall how the nurse 1 reacted to doc Dan’s dizziness and workaholism (chapter 57). She blamed the main lead, because she imagined that Shin Okja would worry about him. However, it becomes clear that the halmoni is not worried about her grandson at all. She is acting like a fan in front of the athlete. (chapter 61) One might argue that based on this scene, the grandmother didn’t see him with the bruise on his arm. (chapter 61) He only remained at the door. However, observe that there was a cut between this image (chapter 61) and the conversation between the main couple in front of the hospice. (chapter 61) So he could have made his presence known to his relative before asking Joo Jaekyung to follow him because of his treatment. To conclude, I believe that she had the time and occasion to see her grandchild and his bruise.

This confrontation with the hospice staff may serve as a pivotal moment, not only in exposing the extent of Kim Dan’s suffering but also in highlighting the grandmother’s true nature. If the medical professionals press further, requesting past medical records or details of where he had been treated, it will become evident that there is little to no documented history. She had never been worried about his health, since he was young. This realization could solidify the perception of Kim Dan as someone who has been neglected for years, forcing those around him—especially Joo Jaekyung—to reevaluate their understanding of his struggles.

And now, you know why Cheolmin is so important. (chapter 13) He is the only doctor who has ever examined the protagonist so closely and even paid attention to his fingernails! (chapter 13) At the same time, the chingu from the club was the first one pointing out that his wounds were never treated!! Furthermore, I realized that the doctor’s lies from episode 11 (chapter 11) could appear in a different light: he was not beaten by Heo Manwook, but he truly tripped on the stairs due to his weak constitution, a new version of this scene: (chapter 59) He would space out and even fall asleep at any moment.

Secondly, by contrasting these bruises, I noticed a pattern. First, it was the doctor’s left eye, then the right eye. The bruises on the eyes symbolized the doctor’s blindness. The latter had been avoiding reality. At the same time, the purple eyes exposed people’s sightlessness and indifference. Later the physical therapist injures his hands and knee, but no one intervened again. (chapter 43) They imagined that rest was the best solution, something the champion had heard from Cheolmin before. That’s why he listened to his manager’s suggestion. He let him sleep instead of urging him to eat something. He had heard that rest was crucial forgetting that Kim Dan was suffering from malnutrition. (chapter 13) The latter was the cause for the severe exhaustion. However, like mentioned above, the doctor is not blameless either, because he never questioned why his wounds on the hand were bleeding again. (chapter 43) He thought, it was related to the massage, yet the reality was that this incident showed that he had coagulation issues. To conclude, all the bruises could have always been noticed by people due to their locations (eyes, hands, arm)! (chapter 11) While the manager and Kwak Junbeom saw the injury and accepted the “excuse”, the nurses are now no longer paying attention to Kim Dan’s well-being contrary to the past. The bruise on the doctor’s arm reflects the staff’s neglect: they are not helping him. They are now more obsessed with handsome guys (chapter 61) and his relationship with Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 61) That’s how I recognized why these women’s warm welcome and curiosity about Kim Dan were rather superficial. (chapter 56) His arrival stands for novelty and a breath of fresh air at the institution. However, with this change, the female staff is forgetting their original duty: they need to pay attention to their colleagues. They are behaving like the grandmother (chapter 61): fangirling over the handsome guys visiting their little town. That’s why Mingwa drew flowers in the last two images. No wonder why no one around Kim Dan is observing the bruise and his deteriorating condition. Moreover, since the physical therapist has a relative at the hospice, the staff is envisioning that Shin Okja is doing “her work”, she is paying attention to Kim Dan’s mental and physical conditions. On the other hand, there is no doubt that the grandmother has already delegated her own responsibility onto others, Kim Dan and the hospice. It is a medical institution, therefore they should pay attention to his working conditions. In other words, since no one feels responsible for the protagonist’s health, no one is worried about Kim Dan at all. At the end of episode 61, he is even so pale and breathless (chapter 61) that I am anticipating a terrible incident leading to a rude awakening for everyone.

Furthermore, the bruise (chapter 61) also reflects Kim Dan’s personality—marked by his selflessness, deep-seated low self-esteem and sacrificing tendencies. His inability to prioritize his own well-being is a recurring theme throughout the story, and it is intrinsically linked to his perception of self-worth. Conditioned by his upbringing, he has internalized the belief that his existence is burdensome, reinforcing his tendency to endure pain in silence. The fact that he was never taken to a doctor only strengthened his negative self-perception—medical care was seen as an expense he was unworthy of, a burden his grandmother should not have to bear.

The doctor’s bruise and Shin Okja’s education

In reality, Shin Okja’s supposed sacrifices were not genuine acts of selflessness but a carefully maintained illusion. While Kim Dan grew up believing she had given up so much for him, the truth was that she consistently prioritized herself, shaping his perception of responsibility and guilt. By neglecting his health, she subtly ingrained in him the notion that he was undeserving of care, further reinforcing his compulsion to sacrifice himself for others. This duality—the physical fragility of his health and the emotional scars of a neglected childhood—underscores the profound symbolic weight of the bruise, marking not just his external injuries but also the wounds inflicted upon his psyche.

Furthermore, in Chapter 61, (chapter 61) Shin Okja offers her yogurt to Joo Jaekyung, expressing concern over his weight loss. This small act of care stands in stark contrast to her treatment of Kim Dan, who has visibly suffered from weight loss and paleness too. In season 2, she no longer asked him if he would eat or if he desired to eat the yogurts.

Her neglect does not merely stem from past interactions, such as when Kim Dan dismissed her offerings, claiming he was no longer a child. It is rooted in a deeper belief that her responsibilities toward him have ended. (chapter 47) For Shin Okja, raising him to adulthood marked the completion of her duty, and his current struggles are no longer her concern. This perspective becomes evident in her words from Chapter 57, where she tells him, he can’t stay here forever, and it’s not like he’ll stick around after she dies. (chapter 57) By declaring that Kim Dan is now responsible for his own life, she emotionally detaches herself, absolving herself of any accountability for his deteriorating condition. However, she is forgetting (chapter 56) that she is still relying on him, as he is the one paying her hospice bills. Besides, she still doesn’t know that the loan is no longer existent. It was, as if he had to clean up her mess before her death. At no moment, she asks about the loan or the doctor’s future. She is not thinking about his future at all.

Moreover, Shin Okja’s earlier acknowledgment of Kim Dan’s worsening health condition (chapter 57) —coupled with his refusal to heed her concerns (chapter 57) — reinforces her conviction that she has fulfilled her role. In her mind, his rejection of her advice places the burden of care entirely on him, allowing her to dismiss any further involvement. This emotional withdrawal directly connects to the symbolism of the bruise: (chapter 61) it signifies not only Kim Dan’s physical neglect but also the absence of meaningful support from those who should care for him. The bruise becomes a manifestation of his grandmother’s abdication of responsibility, leaving him to bear the weight of his sacrifices alone, even as his health visibly deteriorates.

The bruise also holds significance in the context of the debts. (chapter 18) In episode 18, when Joo Jaekyung confronts Kim Dan about the loan, the doctor has a bruise on his left eye, symbolizing his entrapment and helplessness. This earlier injury highlights how Kim Dan has been conditioned to view himself as responsible for burdens that are not his own, perpetuating a cycle of sacrifice and self-neglect. And a new bruise appeared just after the athlete reminded the physical therapist of his past promise: (chapter 61) His grandmother’s disregard for his well-being amplifies the injustice of this situation; she allowed him to shoulder the debt despite knowing it was never truly his to bear. The bruise becomes a recurring motif, a visual representation of how others have imposed their responsibilities on Kim Dan, leaving him physically and emotionally scarred.

Shin Okja’s role in Kim Dan’s life is pivotal in understanding his psyche. Her methods of control were often passive-aggressive, characterized by guilt-tripping and emotional manipulation. In flashbacks, we see her imposing adult responsibilities on Kim Dan at a young age, reinforcing the idea that he must grow up quickly to alleviate her burdens. This dynamic is exemplified in Chapter 47, where she remarks, “You still have a lot of growing up to do, don’t you?” (chapter 47) In Chapter 57, Shin Okja’s detachment becomes more evident as she advises Kim Dan to leave the hospice. (chapter 57) These words strip Kim Dan of any sense of belonging or familial connection, further isolating him. Her suggestion that he move on reflects her mental and emotional withdrawal from him, leaving him adrift. This detachment, however, creates an opportunity for Joo Jaekyung to step into her place. As Shin Okja relinquishes her hold over Kim Dan, Joo Jaekyung’s role in his life becomes increasingly significant. The question remains whether Joo Jaekyung will rise to the occasion, offering Kim Dan the emotional support and respect he has long been denied.

The Symbolism of the Setting

The hospice, Light of Hope, serves as a symbolic backdrop for Kim Dan’s journey. It represents both a place of healing and a stark reminder of his sacrifices (chapter 60). The juxtaposition of the vibrant environment with Kim Dan’s deteriorating health underscores the neglect he faces. The hospice is meant to be a sanctuary, yet it becomes a space where Kim Dan is further burdened by the champion and his grandmother’s expectations (chapter 61) and the weight of his past.

The setting also reflects the champion’s role in Kim Dan’s life. Joo Jaekyung’s presence at the hospice symbolizes a potential turning point (chapter 61), where Kim Dan might finally confront his suppressed emotions and begin to heal. However, the pivotal detail lies in where Joo Jaekyung first notices the bruise on Kim Dan’s arm—not within the hospice but outside, in front of the building. This distinction is significant, as it suggests that Kim Dan’s true healing will not occur within the confines of the hospice itself, but in the broader expanse of nature, away from the constructed sanctuary. It hints at a deeper connection to the natural world as a source of renewal and recovery, a theme subtly woven into Kim Dan’s earlier reflections.

The imagery ties back to Kim Dan’s own words about Joo Jaekyung: (chapter 55) This line “I finally feel like I can breathe again”, written by Kim Dan, reveals a subconscious acknowledgment that his relationship with the champion represents a breath of fresh air, a chance to escape the suffocating expectations and burdens he has carried for so long. The bruise, a physical manifestation of his struggle, signals the breaking point of his role as a selfless caregiver. It challenges the illusion of invulnerability that Kim Dan has maintained and forces those around him to confront his vulnerability.

Furthermore, this notion of healing outside the hospice aligns with the setting of Kim Dan’s unconscious cry for help—the beach. His suicidal disposition in that scene reflects a desperate need for release, a yearning for an escape that the structured environment of the hospice cannot provide. (chapter 60) The beach, with its open and untamed expanse, symbolizes freedom and a return to the self. It foreshadows that Kim Dan’s true journey toward healing will require him to step outside the roles and confines imposed upon him, finding solace not in what is expected but in what feels authentic and liberating.

The Burden of Debts and Sacrifice

Kim Dan’s relationship with the debts encapsulates his conditioned belief that he must bear burdens alone. (chapter 18) His grandmother, Shin Okja, played a significant role in this mindset by fostering the illusion that hard work and sacrifice would erase the debts. However, as revealed in episode 18, this was a lie. Shin Okja made the choice to take on the loan and not to seek help (chapter 5), yet she burdened Kim Dan with it, using his sense of duty and gratitude against him. Her statement in episode 57 (chapter 57) —“This place isn’t your hometown, and you don’t have any ties here”—further reinforces the emotional distance she has always maintained, treating him more as an obligation than family. However, she is forgetting that as a senior, she still has obligations towards her grandson.

Joo Jaekyung’s decision to pay off the loan (chapter 18) in Episode 18 introduces the theme of gratitude (chapter 18) —or, more accurately, the lack thereof. The champion’s actions were motivated by a desire to help (chapter 18), hence the star was waiting for a smile from Kim Dan. Yet the latter perceived it as meddling. His immediate response (chapter 18) —shock, disbelief, and rejection—revealed his inability to accept help. This reaction stems from his upbringing, where he was conditioned to equate self-worth with self-reliance. Even after moving into Joo Jaekyung’s penthouse, Kim Dan insisted on repaying the loan (chapter 53), leaving a note when he moved out that promises to settle the debt. However, by Episode 61, Kim Dan is no longer mentioning the debt, signaling a shift in his priorities and a possible breaking point in his adherence to his grandmother’s expectations. (chapter 61)

Kim Dan’s lack of gratitude toward Joo Jaekyung also stems from a deeper existential crisis. When the champion repaid the loan, he unknowingly deprived Kim Dan of what had become his sole purpose in life: assisting his grandmother. (chapter 47) The physical therapist’s entire existence had revolved around fulfilling her needs, from managing the debt to taking care of her health. With her now approaching death and actively pushing him away, Kim Dan is left grappling with a profound sense of meaninglessness. (chapter 60) He had never been given the opportunity to develop dreams or ambitions of his own, as his life was entirely defined by his grandmother’s circumstances. This lack of agency further explains his rejection of Joo Jaekyung’s generosity in Episode 18 and his later promise to reimburse the loan. Clinging to this promise was Kim Dan’s way of creating purpose and meaning in a life that had otherwise been dictated by others. It highlights how deeply entrenched his self-sacrificing tendencies are, as even his attempts to assert independence are rooted in his conditioned need to serve others. That’s why I come to the following prediction. Kim Dan needs to get confronted with illness and death (he could lose his life) so that his will for life comes to the surface. Right now, he imagines that since he is young, he will outlive his relative, but the death of the puppy was a warning to him that youth is no guarantee for a long life. (chapter 59) Death can take away anyone and at any moment. In my eyes, if Joo Jaekyung uses his own body to save the doctor again (like for example blood transfusion and CPR), this time Kim Dan would feel truly grateful towards the champion. So far, the doctor has not recognized the star as his savior yet. By removing the needle, he denied the protagonist’s intervention on the beach: (chapter 60) Hence his arm got bruised. The contusion was a reminder that something had happened during that night, but Kim Dan chose to ignore the incident. He never questioned why he was on the beach, he acted, as if Joo JAekyung had lied. (chapter 60)

The Hypocrisy of Gratitude

Kim Dan’s inability to express gratitude towards Joo Jaekyung is rooted in the hypocrisy of his situation. (chapter 18) Deep down, Kim Dan knows that the debt was never truly his responsibility, making it difficult for him to view the champion’s actions as a genuine act of kindness. This inner conflict is compounded by his suicidal disposition, which renders the concept of repaying the debt meaningless.

Additionally, Kim Dan’s relationship with gratitude is further complicated by his grandmother’s influence. Shin Okja used pity (chapter 53) and guilt to manipulate Kim Dan into fulfilling her wishes, framing his sacrifices as acts of love and duty. Her neglect and disregard for his well-being, even as he deteriorates physically and emotionally, highlight her selfishness. Through his past memories, readers can get a glimpse of his misery. (chapter 59) He worked so hard, was even beaten, but he could never voice his torment. (chapter 59) Why? It is because the grandmother was no longer by his side and she never talked to him either. The absence of communication indicates her lack of interest in Kim Dan. And it becomes comprehensible why during that night, he felt the need to go to the ocean and drown himself. It is because he was gradually realizing his loneliness. With his relative’s death, he would only keep living a terrible life determined by work and nothing else.

And because Kim Dan made the promise to the champion to reimburse him, it is clear why the fighter reminded him of the “unpaid debt” after their reunion. (chapter 60) (chapter 60) Since Kim Dan had not accepted the fighter’s generosity and even reaffirmed the need to pay back the “loan”, Joo Jaekyung imagined that his fated partner was very principled about money. The latter was used to drive an edge between them. However, the MMA fighter made a terrible mistake at the hospice. With his remark (chapter 60), he created the impression that he was impatient, expecting to be paid back, and as such his past generosity was in truth fake. He never desired to assist the doctor with this problem. And note that from that night on, the physical therapist is no longer bringing up the topic of the unpaid debts. (chapter 61) In my opinion, the physical therapist has now internalized that he is not responsible for the unpaid debts. It is only a matter of time, until Kim Dan confronts the fighter with his biased prejudices (chapter 11) and even uses his own words against him: (chapter 22) The loan was the result of his grandmother’s decision. He never helped him, rather his grandmother.

The dynamic between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung also reveals the former’s hypocrisy. Despite feeling trapped and powerless, Kim Dan had choices. He could reveal the truth to the athlete, when he begged for his help: (chapter 11) However, he never explained his circumstances to the generous athlete. By keeping him in the dark, he reinforced his negative disposition about the doctor. And chapter 61 exposes this reality. His suffering was the result of his own decision. (chapter 61) Do you recognize the room? That was the doctor’s (chapter 19) (chapter 53) His decision to allow Joo Jaekyung into his bedroom in episode 61 demonstrates that he consented to the relationship, even if begrudgingly. (chapter 61) However, his reaction afterward (regret) suggests that he struggles to take ownership of his choices. The fact that he recalled this sex scene in the restroom divulges a certain resent towards the athlete. The latter abandoned him right after their interaction. Hence I come to the following deduction. In reality, he is projecting his frustrations onto Joo Jaekyung, masking his true feelings about his grandmother, who is the root cause of his conditioned self-sacrifice. And this observation brings to my next remark. People wondered when this intercourse took place. One might think that this took place rather early in the story because of the way Joo Jaekyung acted. He didn’t remove his pants (chapter 61) and acted like in episode 6. (chapter 6) or 8 (chapter 8) where he would abandon the protagonist right after the climax and not care about his partner’s conditions and feelings: (chapter 61) I might be wrong, but for me, it took place much later in the story, around the time the athlete was about to face Alfredo. Why? First notice that they had sex in the doctor’s bedroom. This means that Kim Dan was already living in the penthouse. The words from the champion implied that he would return to his own bedroom, where the doctor’s thoughts implied that he was standing close to his bed. However, so far, they only had sex in the champion’s bedroom, when it was the evening before the match: (chapter 13) Since the doctor mentioned that a match was right around the corner (chapter 61) It leaves us four possibilities. Randy Booker, Dominic Hill, Alfredo (chapter 47) and Baek Junmin. However, for the intercourse took place in the doctor’s bedroom (he wished to be carried to his own bed) (chapter 61), I am already excluding Randy Booker. Secondly, this sex session can not have taken place before his match with Dominic Hill (chapter 36), for they had sex every day. However, in episode 53, we discover their night before the match against the Shotgun (chapter 53) So this scene can only have taken place in chapter 47, when the match with Angelo got canceled and Kim Dan had been confronted with the terrible news about his terminally ill grandmother. (chapter 47) In the previous part of this essay, my avid readers could see the strong parallels between 61 and 47. But there exists another reason why I am inclining to think that the sex scene took place later in the story. It is because during that “magical night” (44), Kim Dan learned the notion of “consent”. (chapter 44) During that blue hour, Kim Dan discovered that he could say no! And notice that in his memory, he clearly thought that he could have rejected the athlete’s advances. (chapter 61) The other reason for this theory is Park Namwook’s advice at the gym: (chapter 46) He should mistrust the members from the gym and keep his distance from people. So during that time, Joo Jaekyung did follow his hyung’s advice (chapter 47), yet I can’t imagine that this man could become abstinent like in episode 19. Hence at some point, he must have felt the urge to possess Kim Dan, a mixture of fear and dominance. He imagined that way that he could impose his will onto the doctor and control his “loyalty”. With this submission, he would force the doctor to remain by his side. But naturally, this sex as “power play” could increase the gap between the main leads.

Interesting is that in episode 53 (chapter 53) doc Dan was copying the champion’s behavior from episode 61. Right after the sex, he would leave the bed and return to his bedroom. How did Joo Jaekyung recall this night? (chapter 53) He saw his attitude as a sign of disloyalty and “abandonment”. And that’s how Kim Dan is feeling in the restroom: (chapter 61) The darkness around the eyes is a metaphor for his resent and anger. And the moment you contrast the two memories (53 and 61), you can detect the hypocrisy of the two main leads. They only recall scenes where they were hurt and felt betrayed. However, in reality, they were both victims and perpetrators, because none of them chose to open up and talk to each other. Why? It is because both chose to listen to their “guardian” and their “favor”. Like mentioned before, in a quarrel, no one is right and wrong. The purpose of an argument is to listen to the counterpart and view incidents from their perspective. Finally, the physical therapist’s recollection serves as an important evidence that he had never been powerless and helpless. He could have refused all the time because their deal was never official.He could have used the contract as a shield. But the best evidence of Kim Dan’s power is this rejection: (chapter 61) I had already pointed out the increasing resistance and resilience from Kim Dan in episode 60: (chapter 61) My prediction came true. In the past, he could have denied the existence of the deal, Joo Jaekyung was free to seek another physical therapist. He never realized that he had some leverage. Yet he still followed the athlete’s requests. He saw himself bound by obligations. However, this was just an illusion. Hence in episode 61, we see him legitimating his consent that there was an imminent fight. (chapter 61) This shows that he always used others to justify his choices. That way, he could portray himself as a dutiful and loving person, while his sacrifices would all go unnoticed.

The doctor’s fate: a reflection of Joo Jaekyung’s life

Kim Dan’s bruises are more than just marks of exhaustion and overexertion; they symbolize the way his body is used for the benefit of others. (chapter 61) He is expected to work despite his declining health, his suffering dismissed by those around him. (chapter 61) His well-being is secondary to business interests, whether it be the hospice director valuing money and PR over his need for rest or Joo Jaekyung imposing additional strain despite knowing better. Every bruise on Kim Dan’s body is a reflection of a system that prioritizes productivity over humanity.

This, however, mirrors Joo Jaekyung’s own existence. (chapter 40) He is paid to receive bruises, to push his body past its limits (chapter 50), to endure pain while the public watches and profits are made. His suffering is entertainment, a spectacle that fuels the business of MMA. Though he is a champion, he is still a commodity, expected to perform regardless of his condition. (chapter 61) He understands, better than anyone, what it means to be physically used for the sake of others, yet he remains blind to the fact that he has placed Kim Dan in the same position. While one has no file about his health condition, the other has many files, but they are not studied, because this would push the manager to question his decision and even ruin the business: (chapter 17) I doubt that Park Namwook studied them, and notice that the recently hired PT didn’t ask for the champion’s files first: (chapter 54) Thus I deduce that the champion’s files are in reality a subterfuge. They give the impression that the doctors and Park Namwook truly care for his well-being, but it is not correct. They are only interested in his body because of wealth and reputation. But let’s return our attention to episode 61 and the champion’s attitude towards Kim Dan.

The hypocrisy is undeniable. (chapter 61) Joo Jaekyung pressures Kim Dan to work through his pain, (chapter 61) despite living a life where he is forced to do the same. He became what he despised—someone who forces another to sacrifice their well-being for business. (chapter 60) The reality is, both of them exist in a world where their worth is determined by what their bodies can endure. Kim Dan’s value is measured by his ability to work, just as Jaekyung’s is determined by his ability to fight. They are both trapped in a system that demands their suffering for profit, used by those in power who see them as tools rather than individuals.

If Joo Jaekyung fails to recognize this parallel, he will only perpetuate the very cycle that has shaped his own pain. But if he does, it could be the key to not only freeing Kim Dan from this exploitation but also breaking himself out of the same cycle. The question remains: will he see the truth before it’s too late? (chapter 54) It is clear that the manager wants Joo Jaekyung to return to the ring as soon as possible to erase the last “debacle”. In my opinion, the doctor’s illness could serve Joo Jaekyung as an excuse to delay his return to the ring and even not to accept the next challenge.

A Caregiver’s Identity

Kim Dan’s choice to rent from an elderly landlord (chapter 57) is another manifestation of his conditioned role as a caregiver. By living with an older man, he creates the illusion of a familial bond, mirroring the dynamic he shared with his grandmother. This decision highlights his struggle to break free from the identity imposed on him—one defined by servitude and selflessness. He assumes that he should take care of the landlord, offering to cook and expressing guilt for not fulfilling this perceived duty. Yet, the landlord subtly challenges this narrative. By inviting Kim Dan to eat breakfast (chapter 57) and dismissing his apologies, the landlord treats him as an equal rather than a caretaker. This dynamic forces Kim Dan to confront his false perception of himself.

The landlord’s care, though understated, contrasts sharply with Kim Dan’s expectations. In Episode 57, the landlord observes Kim Dan’s declining health and attempts to address his drinking habits. (chapter 57) Despite this, Kim Dan rejects the advice, demonstrating his resistance to being cared for. This moment underscores his internal conflict—he craves independence yet clings to the role of the selfless provider. The landlord’s actions expose the fallacy of Kim Dan’s identity, revealing that his caregiving is not always necessary or effective.

Kim Dan’s Transformation: From Self-Sacrifice to Self-Awareness

Chapter 61 marks a significant shift in Kim Dan’s psyche—he begins to view himself with self-pity. That’s why he recalled the sex in the restroom. (chapter 61) He was not feeling well, yet the champion still demanded to have sex with him. (chapter 61) However, like pointed out above, he could have objected and even explained the situation. But no… he chose silence and submission in the end. This exposes the long internalized belief that Joo Jaekyung is stubborn and won’t listen or even get angry. Moreover, it is related to the grandmother’s education which privileged money, obedience, silence and taboo. However, the recollection (chapter 61) is indicating the increasing resent and anger towards the star. Joo Jaekyung is no longer seen as a celebrity and idol, but as a inconsiderate man. This transformation is subtle but meaningful, as it reflects his burgeoning awareness of his own worth and the unjust treatment he has endured. For the first time, Kim Dan acknowledges himself as pitiful (chapter 61), a clear departure from his habitual role of unquestioned self-sacrifice. This moment signals the emergence of a new identity, where Kim Dan starts “treasuring” himself, even if only as someone who deserves more respect than he has been given. In his recollection, he has a wish: to have a companion who would take care of him.

Kim Dan’s realization that he was not respected by Joo Jaekyung (chapter 61) parallels the emotional and mental detachment of Shin Okja. While his grandmother had long imposed the role of a caregiver upon him, (chapter 61) her current disregard for his health and well-being forces him to confront the fragility of his own existence. His bruised arm and poor health serve as physical manifestations of this awakening—he is no longer the tireless, invincible caregiver but a vulnerable human being who could fall gravely ill (chapter 61) or even abandon others first. (chapter 53)

The Emotional Transition: Joo Jaekyung’s Role in Kim Dan’s Life

This transformation in Kim Dan reflects a deeper narrative shift in Jinx: the exploration of self-worth and emotional reciprocity. It signals that relationships should not be defined by obligation and sacrifice alone but also by mutual respect and care. As Kim Dan begins to recognize his own worth, the dynamics of his relationships with both Shin Okja and Joo Jaekyung are poised to change dramatically. (chapter 61) This chapter sets the stage for a redefinition of Kim Dan’s identity (chapter 61), no longer bound by the roles others have imposed on him but shaped by his own choices and growing self-respect.

Shin Okja’s emotional detachment opens a door for Joo Jaekyung to step into her place, but this transition is contingent on Joo Jaekyung admitting his feelings for Kim Dan. (chapter 61) The physical reminder of Kim Dan’s poor health is not only a wake-up call for Joo Jaekyung but also for Kim Dan himself. It emphasizes that caregiving cannot define his identity entirely, and he too needs care and consideration.

This dynamic creates a powerful opportunity for growth in their relationship. If Joo Jaekyung is to fill the void left by Shin Okja, he must evolve from a figure of dominance to one of emotional support and genuine affection. Similarly, Kim Dan must shed the remnants of his belief that his only worth lies in what he can do for others. His growing self-awareness, catalyzed by his deteriorating health, paves the way for this mutual transformation.

The Role of Health as a Narrative Reminder

Kim Dan’s health, deteriorating as it is, serves a dual purpose. For Joo Jaekyung, it is a stark reminder of the consequences of his past neglect (chapter 13) and the fragility of Kim Dan’s existence. For Kim Dan, it challenges his self-perception as an indestructible caregiver. This realization could lead him to an inevitable conclusion: his own needs and well-being are just as important as those of others.

Ironically, this reversal also suggests a possibility that Kim Dan could be the one to abandon his grandmother first—not out of malice but as a natural consequence of his newfound understanding of his humanity. He wants to live, he doesn’t want to die now. His physical limitations and emotional exhaustion could compel him to prioritize his own survival over the expectations imposed on him, marking a definitive break from his past.

To conclude, Kim Dan’s deteriorating health presents a pivotal moment in his journey, marking a potential shift from mere survival to truly embracing life. His identity, long defined by caregiving and sacrifice, could face a profound challenge if his condition worsens, forcing him into a role of dependency. Joo Jaekyung’s role in this transformation could be equally transformative. Witnessing Kim Dan’s vulnerability might inspire the champion to step into the role of a true caregiver, fostering a deeper emotional connection between them. This shift would starkly contrast Kim Dan’s relationship with his grandmother, where care was one-sided and manipulative. Instead, it could establish a foundation of mutual respect and shared responsibility, breaking the cycle of transactional relationships that have defined Kim Dan’s past.

Ultimately, Kim Dan’s illness could become a catalyst for healing—not just physically but emotionally—for both him and Joo Jaekyung. It sets the stage for a relationship rooted in genuine care and respect, underscoring the broader theme of personal growth and the rediscovery of self-worth.

Conclusion

“Bruised by Choices, Bound by Sacrifice” encapsulates the complexities of Kim Dan’s character and his relationships. The recurring motif of the bruise serves as a powerful symbol of his struggles, reflecting both his physical pain and the emotional scars left by his upbringing. The debts, gratitude, and the hospice setting further illustrate how Kim Dan’s sacrifices have shaped his identity, forcing him to navigate a path filled with contradictions and unspoken resentments.

This examination also underscores the profound link between silence and sacrifice in Kim Dan’s journey. His suffering largely went unnoticed not just due to external neglect but because of his own choice to remain silent. Kim Dan never expressed his thoughts or emotions, choosing instead to endure in silence to avoid burdening his grandmother. Ironically, this silence was unnecessary, as Shin Okja herself was blinded by his youth, assuming that his vitality ensured he would outlive her. This assumption prevented her from recognizing his vulnerabilities, highlighting yet another layer of neglect in their relationship.

Through this lens, Kim Dan’s journey becomes a poignant exploration of the cost of selflessness and the courage it takes to reclaim one’s agency. His silence, once a symbol of sacrifice, now stands as a barrier he must overcome to truly heal and redefine his life on his own terms. By breaking free from the constraints of unspoken expectations and misplaced gratitude, Kim Dan’s transformation holds the promise of a future where his choices are guided by self-respect and a newfound understanding of his worth.

In earlier chapters, such as Chapter 57, Kim Dan’s landlord invited him to share breakfast, showing a degree of care and concern. However, Kim Dan deflected this gesture, maintaining his self-imposed role as a caregiver. In Chapter 58, despite sitting at a table with Heesung, Potato, and the landlord, Kim Dan’s disengagement from the meal—leaving most of the chicken untouched and avoiding the rice wine—highlighted his hidden struggles with both malnutrition and alcoholism. His deliberate avoidance of the rice wine reflects an effort to conceal his drinking habits, adding another layer to his isolation.

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: Effective 👼 Anguish 😭😈

1. Why Anguish?

Feel like dropping Jinx? Perhaps you’ve reached chapter 50, and the weight of the narrative feels too heavy to bear. Yet, despite the urge to abandon ship, you shouldn’t. Why? One might say, that’s how life is: harsh, painful and unfair. On the other side, others might argue about this perception, as people can experience happiness too. Besides, anyone knows the idiom “to look on the bright side”. Nonetheless, people can only enjoy life to its fullest, when they experience sadness and agony either.

This article explains why sadness and heartache are necessary in life. And this rule also applies in the world of Jinx, especially since the Webtoonist is promoting Positive Psychology. Chapter 50 was so painful for both Joo Jaekyung (chapter 50) and Kim Dan. While the former was tormented by his challenger directly (chapter 50) and indirectly, the other had to witness how the members from Team Black turned their back on him in the locker room. (chapter 50) Interesting is that on X, hamster Dan received more affection and attention than the champion. Though I have always pointed out the doctor’s flaws, in episode 50, I couldn’t help myself being upset and heartbroken for Doc Dan too, until I had a revelation. Many readers were disappointed or mad, when they saw him in this panel. (chapter 50) They could put themselves in his shoes: he was left behind. On the other hand, the reaction from Joo Jaekyung was totally understandable. (chapter 50) He acted on instinct. Moreover, he had a match, therefore they had no time to discuss or investigate the matter. (chapter 50) And everyone knows this saying: Time is money. Yes, the hyungs didn’t decide to postpone the fight, because they would have to pay huge fees, and this could have affected the Emperor’s reputation. It exposes that the fight as such the show was more important than the well-being of their star. As a conclusion, money played a huge role in their decision. On the other side, the annulation would have brought more trouble to Kim Dan, as it would have caught the attention from journalists and fans, though it can still happen later. Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why they left the locker room and didn’t argue with Kim Dan. They were under pressure. Nevertheless, the readers had a different reaction, for they knew the truth: Doc Dan was the victim of a new scheme. Therefore they judged the whole situation as unfair. Some were mad at the manager for yelling at the physical therapist. (chapter 50) Yet, we shouldn’t allow our emotions cloud our judgement, for this image displays the doctor’s metamorphosis. Notice that he talked back. Though his sentence is still not complete, the thickness of the writing and the point of exclamation are indicating that he was not whispering. He was speaking loudly and clearly. He was talking back firmly. Moreover, he was not avoiding his counterpart’s gaze contrary to the argument in the penthouse. (chapter 45) In other words, the scene in chapter 50 exposes the doctor’s growing strength and resilience. That’s the second reason why anguish is necessary in Jinx. Through their suffering, the characters can change, and Jinx-philes have the opportunity to witness their growing maturity. At the same time, the author is able to underline the other figures’ flaws thanks to torment. Between the essay My hero (full version)” and chapter 22, my perception of Park Namwook changed totally. While in the beginning, I judged him as a hero, I came to consider him as a naïve and blind man. Chapter 50 proved my interpretation correct. In episode 50, his superficiality and hypocrisy became so obvious that he was resented by Dan’s stans. On the other hand, his behavior didn’t surprise me at all. The irony is that his behavior is actually improving too 😮, though the manager is still far from being a hero. Episode 50 represents an evidence. To sum up, Mingwa is using anguish for three reasons:

  1. The characters should accept sadness, agony and anger in order to be able to enjoy life and discover happiness. (chapter 44) Now, the doctor is no longer associating sex with prostitution and corruption, but with love.
  2. Through painful events, the characters are encouraged to face their fears and overcome their trauma. Anguish helps them to metamorphose.
  3. Finally, terrible incidents serve as a tool to expose the characters’ true personality and as such their flaws.

Interesting is that I had selected the title “Effective Anguish” even before the release from episode 50! My follower and friend @Milliformemes can vouch for it. How come? It is because I discovered two patterns.

2. Pain and wounds

2. 1. The painful awakening of the dragon

First, I noticed that the champion’s wounds are coming to the surface. In the beginning, the injury on his shoulder could only be detected thanks to Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI). (chapter 27) But only Dr. Lee and Kim Dan got to see the results(chapter 27), not Park Namwook. He just overviewed the medical file quickly. But for that, the manager needs to be capable of understanding medical terms. Thus I doubt, he could visualize the seriousness of the situation. (chapter 27) Then, after the match in the States, the manager asked his “boy” how his shoulder was. (chapter 40) Here, he chose to rely on the celebrity’s words, (chapter 40) while the manager had witnessed how Dominic Hill had targeted his shoulder. He should have realized that his star’s shoulder had been damaged. Nevertheless, we shouldn’t overlook that the athlete’s statement was corroborated by the medical checkup from MFC. That’s how he got fooled. Hence there was no treatment. However, doc Dan could detect the champion’s lie not only through observations (chapter 41) but also through touching. (chapter 41) As you can see, the wound was slowly coming to the surface. Thus I consider the incident in episode 43 as a metaphor for the shoulder injury. (chapter 43) It was exposing the damage in his body. Consequently, when the champion’s foot got wounded by the pepper spray, (chapter 49), I realized what was happening. Mingwa is forcing the Emperor to admit his suffering. Hence his wounds are becoming more and more visible.

Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 49 Chapter 50

First, he let transpire his pain more through his grimaces. Secondly, his moans are getting louder and louder. The point of exclamation and the facial expressions are indicating the increasing pain. But why? Don’t forget that in the past, the champion used to reject any assistance from a physical therapist,. (chapter 5) for he was simply relying on the prostitutes due to his jinx. Thus I consider this argument in the penthouse as a huge step for the athlete: (chapter 45) He can not win, if he is not receiving the help from a PT. That’s the reason why he didn’t mention the jinx at all. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the athlete is suffering more and more. The goddess of Jinx is cornering the athlete: the latter has to admit that he doesn’t just need the assistance of any PT (chapter 45), but the help from the angel Dan.

Finally, during the fight with Baek Junmin, the athlete’s foot is bleeding. (chapter 50) So far, he just had a cut above his eye, nothing serious. (Chapter 40) However, the wound on the foot is different, for his skin is damaged. The recovery will take longer. It is relevant, because Park Namwook can no longer feign ignorance about his star’s wounds. He is less susceptible to manipulations.

On the other side, through the injuries, the champion’s mental health gets boosted. He can sense his own strength and appreciate all the punches he could give to his opponent despite his injuries. (chapter 50) That’s the reason why he turned into a dragon at the end of the chapter. [For more read the essay “Color Clash: Decoding MMA Posters] The blue is exposing that he is not controlled by his emotions (rage, anger or fears), he is totally rational. As the suffering pushed him to become the better version of himself, his victory can only appear even sweeter than before. In other words, the easier his victories were, the more he came to doubt his talent. (chapter 5) And now, you comprehend why he got so nervous and angry, when he imagined that Kim Dan had blocked him. (chapter 5) This shows that his belief in his jinx had been reinforced after his first night with Kim Dan.

On the other hand, Kim Dan could be held responsible for his injuries, similar to this scene. (chapter 31) He could take the fall for everything. The main lead is put in such a position so that he has no other choice: he needs to clear his name! (chapter 1) He shouldn’t accept his fate like in the past, but fight for his rights and reputation. In other words, the painful incident serves another purpose: Kim Dan is incited to develop a fighter’s spirit. That’s the reason why the situation is quite similar to the past.

On the other hand, we should question why the champion felt a pain in his ankle during that morning. (chapter 50) From my perspective, this is the result of the overexerting. (Chapter 50) Even the coach is noticing that the athlete is overtraining himself. Remember that the athlete refused to listen to his PT. (chapter 42) In addition, he would return home late, a sign that he would train even more than before. (chapter 48) Finally, we shouldn’t overlook the fact that after his match in the States, he never visited the hospital due to the law suit. (chapter 41) According to me, the MFC medical checkup was not reflecting the verity. Hence he never got a real check-up and MFC could definitely say that the athlete was definitely fine. (chapter 41) This shows that the more the champion refuses to his PT’s advice, the more injuries he will substain. That’s how it dawned on me why Joo Jaekyung is now getting more and more wounded during the fights. It forces him to take a rest! However, in the past, he had a reason not to listen: he got barely injured. He needed to treat his body roughly in order to prove his effort and strength. This observation reinforces my conviction that there is a second group manipulating the champion’s matches: MFC itself. For me, Heo Manwook and Choi Gilseok are rather puppets. How so? It is because someone knew about the champion’s sexual habits, hence he was supposed to take an aphrodisiac in the States. But neither the loan shark nor the director from King Of MMA are aware of this. To conclude, the champion’s anguish is necessary to expose the deceptions and the schemers as well.

2. 2. The pleasant Park Namwook, Tolstoy and pain

What caught my attention is that in the locker room, the manager didn’t make the decision for the fight. (chapter 50) How? Through a question, he let the coach Jeong Yosep give the answer. Through their words and actions, Jeong Yosep and Joo Jaekyung called shots, and Park Namwook just followed. The darkness around his forehead and the drop of sweat indicate his torment. But he can not voice his suffering, for it is nothing compared to the star’s. Hence if something were to happen to the celebrity, I can already predict that the manager will put the blame on others. Mingwa already left many clues about his lack of responsibility. First, the manager (chapter 27) refused to force the champion to take a day-off by saying that the protagonist would never listen anyway. With such a statement, he pushed Kim Dan to make the decision and announce it to his VIP client. Moreover, the manager didn’t stop his “boy” from exposing his injured shoulder to the public. (chapter 41) However, by doing so, he was exposing his vulnerability to his opponents, though I am still suspecting that MFC leaked information too. So far, the headlines are not indicating which shoulder is wounded. Yet, the moderator knew which one: (chapter 50) So why was the manager so shocked with such an attack? (chapter 50) It was clear that during such a match, the challenger would use the opponent’s weakness. What did he expect in the end? The panel exposes his stupidity and his immaturity. He should have anticipated such a move. These observations lead me to the following conclusion: the champion needs to realize that his hyung will never recognize his suffering, as long as Joo Jaekyung is in denial. Until now, he hasn’t been protecting Joo Jaekyung’s interests, rather his own comfort. His MO was to put the whole responsibility on the athlete. But it was his duty as his manager not to accept the new challenge. (chapter 41) Observe that he is just asking questions once again, when he voices his doubts. He is not making a statement. However, the manager is changing. While in the past, the manager was not treating the celebrity like real family, though he was called hyung, I detected a switch, when Park Namwook sent messages from his family for his birthday. (Chapter 45) In other words, his loyalty towards the star is improving. (chapter 46)

On the other hand, the nature of their relationship is still rather like a boss or employee. Thus he is his advisor or superior. It depends on the situation. I noticed the ambiguity of Park Namwook’s position. First, he introduces himself as the star’s manager (Chapter 9) and coach for Team Black, but he acts like the director of Team Black. (Chapter 49) This explains why he claimed that Team Black was his gym, (chapter 22) yet the reality is that this power comes from the champion, as the latter is the real owner of Team Black. Therefore the captain warned the two hyungs. (Chapter 46) Thus I deduce that the role between the star and his hyung must be redefined because of Kim Dan’s presence. But wait… the heading is referring to the Russian author Leo Tolstoy. So what is his connection to the manager from Team Black?

The reason is that I found an interesting article about Tolstoy entitled: “How to live with purpose: Leo Tolstoy’s 5 secrets after his existential crisis”. The Russian writer noticed the existence of 4 different types of people: Ignorance, Epicureanism, Strength and Energy and Weakness. The moment I read his descriptions, I couldn’t help myself connecting these types to characters from Jinx: Park Namwook, Halmoni, Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan. Interesting is that Tolstoy suffered immensely before he was able to give a meaning to his life.

The latter advice reminded me of the champion’s philosophy. He definitely preferred the breakfasts (chapter 41) to the golden keychain. (Chapter 45) As you can see, the famous writer is connected to Positive Psychology, for he was also promoting meditation and experiences. This fits our story, as both main characters are on their way to give a meaning to their life and as such to find happiness. But let’s return our attention to the manager Park Namwook as a representative of “ignorance”.

This description corresponds to Park Namwook’s mentality, as the latter is always seeking the easiest way out. He is always avoiding discomfort. Hence not only he closed an eye to the doctor’s wounds in episode 11 (chapter 11), but also he never tried to correct the star’s false conclusion. (Chapter 11) He just got angry giving the impression that he was siding with Kim Dan. But the reality is that he did nothing for the poor doctor at all. He remained passive and silent. His “ignorance” explains as well why he is not questioning events and his athlete’s success. (chapter 43) Through the two examples, Manhwaphiles can sense that his “ignorance” is a mixture of willingness to close an eye and real naivety. Under this new approach, it dawned on me why the manager used to beat his star so brutally. (Chapter 7) (Chapter 31) It is his way how to deal with uncomfortable situations. He stands for social norms and conformity. It is not surprising that the manager proposed to use Kim Dan as compensation for Heesung’s fake injury. (chapter 32) Furthermore, he forced Joo Jaekyung to take the blame without investigating the matter. (chapter 31) That way, he avoided to get into trouble. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why he is gentle and polite, when he is not under stress. (chapter 43) The latter triggers his anxiety and nervousness. Thus when there is a problem, his MO is either to threaten, (chapter 22), to scold (chapter 36) or to let others make decisions. I would even add, he often delegates things to others: the manager from the Entertainment company (chapter 27), the MFC manager, the lawyer, the advisors, coach Jeong Yosep (chapter 46), Kim Dan [f. ex. He should accept the bad mood from his VIP client] (chapter 36) However, he is not trying to solve the problem himself. Yet, he can not keep such an attitude in the long run, for his passivity and blindness are the reasons why the main couple can be targeted so easily. Park Namwook is failing to protect his champion and his team. However, I detected a positive change despite the heartache in episode 50. He stopped using violence after episode 31. He learned that he needed to treat the champion’s body more kindly, hence we have this confession: (chapter 43) Furthermore, compare his behavior towards the celebrity and the doctor: (chapter 46) and (chapter 50) Mingwa didn’t use any red in the last picture, a sign that the manager’s anger was controlled. So he is trusting the physical therapist. Consequently, his words at the bar were not empty. (chapter 43) Nevertheless, I am expecting Park Namwook’s effective anguish at some point. He needs to be confronted with his biggest fears and pain. And who will act as his mirror of truth?

While Park Namwook stands for ignorance, the champion embodies fire!

This description reflects the fighter’s mentality. Therefore, it is normal that he is suffering. Under this new light, readers can grasp the severity of the star’s situation. Kim Dan is there to save him from self-destruction. I would even say, the hamster’s love represents his safety belt and salvation. As for Kim Dan, the latter is destined to suffer, as he has always considered himself as powerless. And until he realized his grandmother’s mortality, he acted, as if she was his goddess. Hence he was willing to sacrifice himself for her sake. (chapter 16)

And now, you know why the doctor had not projected himself into the future. He was simply surviving. Though the champion had paid off his debts, Kim Dan had not dropped his life principles: money was important, and it should be spent as quickly as possible, as if there was no tomorrow. Why? It is because he had internalized that his earnings would immediately get wired to a different bank account. That’s why he needed to be confronted his biggest fears: the loss of his job as PT. The incident would not only ruin his career, but also turn the efforts of his grandmother into meaninglessness! Don’t forget that she supported him to become a PT! He was her pride and reward! (chapter 47) And what was the halmoni’s wish? He should give his all to Joo Jaekyung, (chapter 41) and he should assist him during his matches! (chapter 41) Therefore I believe that in the locker room, Kim Dan must have recalled her words. She became his source of strength once again. That’s why we have parallels between these three scenes: (chapter 21: he was criticized by Kim Miseon, he feared to lose his halmoni) (chapter 47) and finally (chapter 50) That’s the reason why Kim Dan could become a star. Contrary to Joo Jaekyung, we didn’t assist to the birth of the yeouiju. It is no coincidence that birth is connected to pain and happiness. Mothers forget the suffering of the delivery, as their child can procure them a lot of joy and happiness.

3. The Overman Kim Dan

Striking is that Psychology and Literature are not the only fields advocating negative emotions and suffering. I have to confess that while reading Painter Of The Night, I noticed parallels between Friedrich Nietzsche’s philosophy and the Manhwa. And since Mingwa’s writing is very similar to Byeonduck’s, I am not surprised that the readers are exposed to heartache and misery. Friedrich Nietzsche, a German philosopher from the 19th Century, developed complex ideas about pain and suffering, as well as the concept of the “Übermensch”, or “Overman.”

  1. Pain and Suffering: Nietzsche believed that pain and suffering were inherent aspects of human existence. Nonetheless, he did not view them solely as negative experiences to be avoided. Instead, he argued that ache and hardship could serve as sources of growth, strength, and self-discovery. Nietzsche famously stated, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger,” suggesting that overcoming adversity can lead to personal development and resilience.
  2. Transcend Conventional Morality: Nietzsche critiqued conventional morality and values, arguing that they often inhibit individual freedom and self-expression. He described it as herd mentality. “Madness is rare in individuals – but in groups, parties, nations, and ages it is the rule.” This quote highlights Nietzsche’s critique of herd mentality, suggesting that individuals are less prone to madness or irrational behavior when acting alone, but when they become part of a collective group, they are more likely to adopt the behaviors and beliefs of the group, even if they are irrational or detrimental. To find one’s real self, he suggested transcending societal norms and conditioning, questioning traditional beliefs, and forging one’s own path based on personal values and principles. As he provocatively declared, “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.”
  3. Strive for Self-Overcoming and Übermensch (Overman): The concept of the Übermensch is central to Nietzsche’s philosophy. The Übermensch represents an idealized individual who transcends conventional morality and societal norms. Nietzsche saw the Übermensch as someone who creates their own values, embraces life’s challenges with courage and creativity, and strives for self-mastery and self-realization. The Übermensch is free from the constraints of traditional morality and embraces the full spectrum of human experience, including joy, suffering, and struggle. In relation to pain, Nietzsche believed that the Übermensch would not shy away from pain and suffering but would instead confront them head-on as part of the process of self-overcoming. By embracing pain and integrating it into their existence, the Übermensch achieves a higher state of being and transcends the limitations of ordinary human existence. Nietzsche wrote, “I teach you the overman. Man is something that shall be overcome.”
  4. Embrace Individuality: Nietzsche celebrated the uniqueness and individuality of each person, urging individuals to embrace their authentic selves without conformity or compromise. By embracing one’s individuality and embracing one’s unique strengths, weaknesses, and experiences, individuals can cultivate a deeper sense of self-awareness and authenticity. Nietzsche emphasized, “Become who you are.
  5. Create Meaning and Values: According to Nietzsche, individuals have the power to create their own meaning and values in a world devoid of inherent meaning. By engaging in creative expression, pursuing passions and interests, and embracing life’s challenges with courage and resilience, individuals can discover and affirm their real selves. Nietzsche famously proclaimed, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

In essence, Nietzsche’s philosophy offers a provocative perspective on finding one’s real self in the face of suffering, pain, and adversity. This reminds us of the famous sparring in episode 26. (Chapter 26) By embracing misfortune, transcending conventional morality, striving for self-overcoming, embracing individuality, and creating meaning and values, individuals can embark on a journey of self-discovery and self-actualization, ultimately becoming the architects of their own lives. At the heart of Nietzsche’s vision lies the concept of the Übermensch, or Overman, who embodies the pinnacle of human potential and serves as a beacon of courage, creativity, and self-mastery. Through the pursuit of the Übermensch ideal, individuals can transcend their limitations, confront their fears, and forge their own destinies, thereby finding their true selves in the process.

If you watched the video, then you know why doc Dan (chapter 5) or Heesung drank alcohol (chapter 35). Both were trying to numb their pain, though they shouldn’t have according to the German philosopher. The soju stopped them from becoming the better version of themselves. I am suspecting that doc Dan copied this poor habit from his grandmother, who drank in secret. Don’t forget that in all the memories, the halmoni is smiling (chapter 47), though she must have struggled a lot. Her smile is a sign that she tried not to burden her grandson. However, her toxic positivity had the opposite effect.

And now, you are wondering how chapter 50 is linked to Overman and Kim Dan. From my perspective, when we look at this scene, ‘ (chapter 50) we shouldn’t see it as a betrayal, rather as an opportunity for Kim Dan. He is not following the herd, because he needs to reflect on the incident. (chapter 50) The latter forced the doctor to question his identity and his desires. What does he want to be in life? Let’s not forget that he selected PT because of his grandmother. (chapter 47) In other words, he had selected this job, as he was following traditions and expectations. Only in episode 47, he realized that she was his real motivation. Yet, he discovered shortly after that she is about to die. Thus he needs to find a new motivation for his job, or better said, he needs to question himself about his profession. Does he truly want to be a physical therapist? Since the beginning of the story, doc Dan has never identified himself as a physical therapist. Thus he accepted to be judged as a whore (chapter 16) or as a tool for the jinx, therefore he mopped the floor (chapter 36), acting like an errand boy. Then he doubted Heesung’s words and admiration (chapter 31) (chapter 31). Furthermore, he took a side gig in order to buy the champion’s present and finally, he rejected Choi Gilseok’s praise and offer. (chapter 48) He was always diminishing himself as a doctor. Therefore in the locker room, he was confronted with his biggest fear: is he really a physical therapist? (chapter 50) He injured his patient. The spray is there to let him see that he has power in his hands. He should trust himself and his magical hands. Don’t forget that this request was made by Joo Jaekyung. (Chapter 49) He never asked him for his expertise and advice. He practiced self-medication in the end. Thus his karma was to be betrayed by the drug, since he keeps mistrusting people. In other words, because of the switch, Kim Dan is encouraged to become brave, to see his job as a great chance: his power is in his hands and nothing else. Heesung described it as magical touch. Doc Dan is talented and he is the champion’s private physical therapist (chapter 50) And from my point of view, the locker room became the doctor’s new temple. There, he must have recalled his grandmother’s wishes. She would like to see him on TV. For me, the light over his head symbolizes Enlightenment. He has become the champion’s yeouiju. Thus I deduce that Kim Dan is on the verge of proving his worth to Team Black. I am anticipating, he will approach the ring, and even treat him during a break, something he denied to his halmoni. (chapter 41) This signifies that he has to become strong and determined, for he has to impose himself in front of the other hyungs. By intervening, he would not only prove his innocence, but also earn his right to be viewed as a hyung! So far, the doctor was always excluded from the meetings, though the manager and advisors should have asked for his opinion. Don’t forget that till episode 42, he relied on the recommendations from other physicians and therapists. If this theory comes true, Joo Jaekyung would show to the public that he is trusting him. This would stand in contrast to this image. (chapter 50). Let’s not forget that MFC doctors can not intervene during a match, but only before or after. Like in the video above, I am expecting that Kim Dan will distinguish himself from the others! PArk Namwook only appeared in the spotlight after his boy’s victories. (chapter 5) (chapter 40) I am expecting a surprise in the next episode. Kim Dan will no longer stand in the shadow, he will no longer follow the “herd”. But there is another reason why I am hoping for such an intervention. It is because neither Baek Junmin nor Choi Gilseok are not expecting the intervention of the physical therapist during the fight, for it never happened before. Besides, the demon could see that their trick had worked. (chapter 50) It is relevant, because through such an intervention, hamster Dan would teach the champion an important lesson. He is not alone in the ring, the doctor is watching his physical condition and helping him. For me, chapter 50 announces a new start! Interesting is that the number 50 is associated with the planet Mercury which stands for poison but also medicine! And now, you comprehend why I consider the painful chapter as treatment sessions. The two protagonists are forced to redefine themselves. Joo Jaekyung might be injured, but he no longer sees himself jinxed! (chapter 50) And keep in mind that the poster was portraying the two fighters looking at hamster Dan (as Dan means red and sweet in Korean). (chapter 48) So the moment you perceive this moment )chapter 50) as something positive, Kim Dan is on the verge of turning over a new leaf, similar to the one in episode 19, (chapter 19), this signifies that Potato was acting like a true friend in the locker room. (chapter 50) He had truly grasped what Kim Dan was going through, and he was giving him a good advice. He was not abandoning his hyung, he was taking care of Kim Dan in his own way. His words were actually showing genuine care and true interest. To conclude, anguish is there to turn Kim Dan into a hero! But so far, he was standing in the shadow! (chapter 37) (chapter 40) (chapter 42) In the first part of Jinx, the doctor was the star’s companion of the night, but since the incident with the birthday present, he stopped being the night partner. Now, he is about to become the famous private physical therapist acknowledged by the public and media. In other words, his destiny contrasts to Baek Junmin’s, a shooting star, it will last longer. Why? It is because the main lead is Saturn! He brings fortune and karma to the evildoers. This interpretation corresponds to Übermensch from Nietzsche, which is sometimes translated as “Superman”. Under this new light, you comprehend why I added the protagonist’s pink angel wings. It was an allusion to his transformation, he is destined to become an “Overman” or Superman. And this brings me to my next observation. The doctor’s pain is exposing his recovery! Weird, right?

4. Healing

But discomfort and pain are strongly intertwined with healing. What? Another video! Yes, watch this while thinking of Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung.

I have to admit that I will use mostly Kim Dan as an illustration in order to prove his recovery, as the essay is already getting very long.

1. You allow yourself to feel your emotions. In chapter 47, the doctor accepted his halmoni’s imminent death (chapter 47) and his agony. He was no longer under the influence of toxic positivity. While he cried, he admitted his flaws making him realize that he had never been abandoned by his grandmother. (chapter 47) That’s how he overcame his abandonment issues.

2. You’re getting better at expressing and maintaining boundaries. I could use the following panels as illustrations that Kim Dan is getting better at setting boundaries. (chapter 27) For the first time, he rejected a suggestion from his lover and even slapped his hand. (chapter 37) He wanted the party to continue. It shows that he was having a good time with Oh Daehyun and Potato. He has no problem to stop kissing his soulmate, when the latter shows his discomfort. (chapter 44)

3. You accept that you’ve been through difficult experiences . (chapter 36)

4. You’re less reactive and more responsive. Before the incident took place, he made sure that everything was fine. He was meticulous and proactive. (chapter 49) He didn’t wait for an order from PArk Namwook or the champion.

5. You realize that healing is not linear. Therefore it is normal that the relationship between the two protagonists is progressing or regressing. (chapter 50) They are trying to find themselves, therefore they must constantly adapt to each other. While the image gives the impression that the trust between them is vanishing, it is in reality an illusion. People should pay attention to the color of the speech bubble. It is white, there is no point of explanation. It reveals that the champion is not raising his voice. He is rather calm. In reality, the champion was not truly mad at Kim Dan. He was restraining himself. Jinx-philes should compare this image to the following two panels: (chapter 34) (chapter 45) As you can see, Joo Jaekyung is not glaring at the poor doctor. He didn’t yell at his lover too, and he never took the spray away from his lover and threw it like the golden medal! (chapter 45) And now, you comprehend why I stated earlier that he acted rather instinctively. For me, he still trusts the physical therapist.

6. You begin to step out of your comfort zone. Despite the rejection, he didn’t run away. He still went to the arena. (chapter 50)

7. You easily accept disappointments and take them in stride. Though he was scared and hurt, he answered to Namwook. He never apologized for the incident. (chapter 50) He is no longer blaming himself. He refused to admit his wrongdoing. He didn’t commit any mistake.

8. You have more inner peace. (chapter 44)

9. You welcome help and support. In this scene, he accepted the assistance of Potato. (chapter 49) After watching the video, I realized what Kim Dan’s next step should be: asking for help! In the beginning of Jinx, he was always relying on himself. He rejected any help. (chapter 18) When the champion paid off his debts, he saw it as meddling. Interesting is that he came to accept the champion’s support, but he never asked for Joo Jaekyung’s help directly. In addition, Jinx-philes should notice that in the interrogation room, he thought just about the champion and not himself. (chapter 40) It never came to his mind that he should ask for assistance. Finally, observe that after he got drugged in the States, he let the champion deal with the problem. (chapter 41) He accepted the statement from his boss. Nevertheless, doc Dan was the real victim. He should have become more involved in the matter. Besides, he was a witness. And this brings me to my next thought: if Kim Dan gets into trouble, he should remember Heesung’s words: he should give him a call! (chapter 35) For me, the incident is there to teach Kim Dan that he can ask for help! This would show him that he is no longer alone. He wouldn’t appear weak at all. That’s how he would end up to gain his first friends. Let’s not forget that Heesung’s relationship with the doctor is no longer tainted by money or by lust or greed. In fact, thanks to him, he found his soulmate. What unites Kim Dan and Heesung is the heart and the desire to help. Heesung stands for brotherhood, so he could be the one outlining the problems to Team Black. Finally since Potato likes Doc Dan very much, there is no doubt that Heesung and Potato will work together to assist the main lead. This image still exposed doc Dan’s loneliness. He needs to have a true friend. And Heesung would be the perfect person, for he is cunning and quite perceptive about people’s true nature. In fact, he already possesses certain features that Nietzsche admires. He is disregarding social norms (chapter 33). He is not hiding his sexual orientation, he is greedy, but in a good way. Hence he tried to win the doctor’s heart. He never gave up, till he was properly rejected by the doctor. (Chapter 35) Interesting is that after his confession, he still chose to come clean with the doctor. He revealed the truth to Kim Dan, though he could have lost the protagonist’s respect. He admitted his lie and manipulation, (Chapter 35), but Kim Dan’s reaction was not to scold his future friend. In fact, he appreciated his honesty. In front of Kim Dan, he could show his true self. He was not entirely a good guy, but he didn’t get rejected. But so far, the actor is not present in the arena. Therefore Potato could be the first person Kim Dan asks for help. He shares some similarities with his soulmate. He doesn’t fear people’s gaze, hence he raised his voice under the tent. (chapter 35) he doesn’t represent the herd mentality, for he never thinks and acts like others. (chapter 31) While the fighters all liked the actor, he judged him in a different light. Then he was not present during the champion’s birthday. Therefore he possesses all the qualities to become a hero. He could cause a scandal, (chapter 49) similarly to his idol and hero in the States. He noticed the issue right away: the security didn’t do his job properly. To sum up, Potato would follow his foot steps and that’s how he would get noticed by MFC!

But there exists another evidence that the cute hamster is healing. For the first time, he asked WHY! (chapter 50) The word is displaying that the doctor is not accepting the incident simply like that. It is showing that the doctor is slowly losing his naivety. Before the incident with the spray took place, he still trusted the words from people. (chapter 49) Naturally, he can not get rid of his naivety totally, for keeping a certain purity is necessary in life too. On the other hand, it becomes clear that his naivety is the result from his education. The halmoni is herself quite too trusting. Hence she ended up being harassed by loan sharks. On the other hand, the incident was like an eye-opener for the physical therapist. He should stop judging people based on their words (chapter 43) but on their actions.

The vanishing of his naivety is caused by his constant suffering. Because he got deceived twice (chapter 1) (chapter 1) by bosses, it becomes comprehensible why he didn’t fall into the trap a third time. (Chapter 48) He is pushed to question impressions and people’s motivations. As a conclusion, anguish is a tool to push people to become wiser and happier. And this leads me to my final part.

5. Painful pattern und fortunetelling

I discovered another pattern, which is strongly intertwined with suffering and purpose. For the first match, Joo JAekyung, his coach and his manager left to Busan without him. However, due to a pain, Kim Dan had to join them. Thus he came running. (chapter 14) But back then, Kim Dan didn’t mind staying in Seoul. (chapter 13) Furthermore, after having sex in the locker room, Kim Dan was left behind. (chapter 15) And notice that this pattern was the same in the States. For the second match, Team Black left without him, hence Kim Dan arrived late. (chapter 40) Therefore he was running once again. However, back then, no readers felt angry at the team, though it could also be perceived as a betrayal and abandonment! Kim Dan was not perceived as necessary, neither for Joo Jaekyung nor for Park Namwook. Hence the bedroom could be judged as the place of the betrayal: “ (chapter 40) That’s how I realized why the Webtoonist never showed the athlete’s caring gesture. He moved him in the middle of the bed! It is because the celebrity was still not treating his soulmate as a physical therapist. The second reason for the absence of anger is that Kim Dan had been drugged and as such was not fit. In addition, he needed to rest after having sex for the whole night. And now, you comprehend why the doctor could get dragged away by the MFC security guards, and no one from Team Black intervened. (chapter 40) It was to outline their previous disregard and betrayal! Thanks to Potato, Joo Jaekyung got informed, hence he could rescue the physical therapist. (chapter 40) But he never revealed the hamster’s role in the team! This explains why Kim Dan was used by Choi Gilseok. He needs to expose his role in Team Black to the world. He is the champion’s private PT!

Chapter 13-14-15Chapter 40/41Chapter 49-50
1. Match: Randy Booker2. Match with Dominic Hill3. Match with Baek Junmin
They left without himThey left without himThey left without him
He arrived late to the arena. He had to run. He arrived late to the arena. Hence he had to run , but no one was expecting him except Potato. He arrived late in the arena. Contrary to the two previous fights, the match has already started, when the doctor reaches the stadium. Thus he didn’t see the shoulder injury. But this time, he is not running. Once again, only Potato is expecting him: “Take your time, doc Dan”.
He was left behind in the locker room. He was left in the bedroom behind. He was left behind in the locker room
He has no uniform of Team Black, hence Joo JAekyung gave him his own jacket. But the latter was taken away later He has just his blue uniform.He has now his own jacket which he is carrying with the blue uniform.He has the jacket and uniform
He was interrogated by a MFC security guard He is interrogated by MFC security guys and they are framing.
There was a checkup from MFC doctors , for both characters.
(chapter 41)
Joo Jaekyung went to the MFC medical center Hence he could get into trouble! The MFC could report the incident to the authorities!

Since I detected similarities between the three matches, I can’t help myself thinking that Kim Dan will be interrogated again. He could end up dragged away after the match. But this time, the champion can not save him, as he is himself badly injured. Therefore expect another anguish in the next episode! Since my theory is that MFC doctors are corrupted, there’s a high chance that the doctors will frame Kim Dan. And now, you comprehend why Kim Dan needs more than ever a friend who can help him! Potato is the witness of the doctor’s innocence (chapter 49) in both cases! He was present, when Kim Dan drank the drugged beverage. (chapter 38) To conclude, it was not in Kim Dan’s interest to run away or hide! This would have been judged as a sign of his culpability and complicity. He needs to face the problems so that he can shape his destiny with his own hands and not remain the playball of dark forces! Yes, this chapter announces a huge change at Team Black, the start of a real friendship between two puppies. 😉

I hope, this long essay gave you the strength to keep reading this terrific Manhwa! Let’s us become a better version of ourselves and embrace the pain, as it means that we are not indifferent and even changing.

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: Facing The Shotgun🔫: Embracing Change ☸️

In chapter 49, Jinx-philes could finally face Baek Junmin and perceive his personality correctly. Mingwa left many clues in this episode, like for example his nickname “The Shotgun”. (chapter 49) Under this new light, my inquisitive readers can understand the title of this composition. My focus will be the infamous sportsman and his interactions with the main lead, in the past and present. Consequently, the composition will contain theories about the champion’s past. Nevertheless, since I am examining the present, it signifies that I will explain Baek Junmin’s role in the new scheme too. So who is Baek Junmin in the end? In the essay “Angel(s) of Death: Shadow versus Serenity, I had already painted him as an antagonist and as a villain. I called him a fake Angel of Death. This interpretation got reinforced with his nickname “The Shotgun”.

1. The different reflections of Shotgun

1. 1. The Shotgun’s colors and task

The moment Manhwaworms read his name, I am quite certain that they were all thinking of a firearm. It implies not only the dangerousness of Baek Junmin, but also his resilience to pain. He is as hard and cold as metal. Furthermore, the gun is associated with the shade black, which is often linked to negativity and death (chapter 49) Yet I couldn’t help myself seeing in the following image glimpses of purple (around the eyes). (chapter 49) Interesting is that this color is also associated with death.

I have to admit that this shade even made me think of decomposed bodies or old bruises. It shows the coldness from The Angel of Death or we could say his rotten soul. However, exactly like his boss, Choi Gilseok, he is hiding his true colors. Thus I see grey as his “official” pigment. (chapter 49) It exposes his duplicity. Because of his sobriquet and his color, I assume that the schemers consider the boxer as a weapon. His role is to kill the Emperor, and probably in one blow. He is the executioner of the invincible legend. It should be a quick, merciless “death”. From that fight, Baek Junmin has to ensure that Joo Jaekyung can never come back to the ring. How is it possible? (chapter 49) It is because they know about his injured shoulder. That’s the reason why Baek Junmin is patting him on his left shoulder. Remember what the sports doctor told to the physical therapist: (chapter 42) He was on the verge of getting surgery. Besides, it is important what the manager suggested to his “boy”: (chapter 47) He should make the fight last in order to tire his opponent out. So the plotters thought that during the fight, Joo Jaekyung would ask for a relief spray on his injured shoulder. That would be the end for him. Kim Dan would even deliver him the victory on a silver plate. He would be framed as an anti-fan. The irony is that Kim Dan could heal his VIP client within a short time. Here, the champion looks relaxed and not concerned with his shoulder. (chapter 49) Here, he is almost smiling. He was telling the truth, when he said that he was fine contrary to the States. (chapter 40) I would like the difference between the two statements. He is now utilizing the personal pronoun “I” and not “it’s”. It indicates that the champion’s condition is good. But now let’s return our attention to The Shotgun”

1. 2. The secret meanings of The Shotgun

On the other hand, the idiom “shotgun” has more than the signification “firearm”. First, I am sure that anyone has ever heard the expression “ride shotgun”.

This corresponds to Kim Dan’s position in the car. (chapter 49) He has now taken over the manager’s place. This reflects the doctor’s rising within Team Black. At the same time, this expression lets us perceive the role of Baek Junmin at King Of MMA gym. He is the protector of Choi Gilseok, the “old man”. On the other hand, his position also insinuates his passivity, as he is not the driver, like here. (chapter 42) In my eyes, it reflects his laziness. He lets other people do the dirty tricks, like we could observe it with the incident in the locker room. (chapter 49) The director had to suffer a great humiliation for this trick, while a helping hand had to switch the spray. For me, the expression “The Shotgun” displays the inaction from Baek Junmin. He was catapulted to the top thanks to the assistance of others: Mr Choi thanks to his money and connections with the media and with the CEO of MFC. Then the members from his gym had to gathered intel about his opponents. This was truly palpable in the description from the moderator. (chapter 49) In fact, the idiom “flying up the ranks” and “rising star” made me think of a shooting star. However, this star is just artificial, for the athlete didn’t have to prove really his strength. Beholders can even detect that the Shotgun’s muscles are less developed. Moreover, a shooting star implies that his success will be short-lived and momentary. He is destined to vanish, especially because people helped him. And this association reinforces my interpretation that Joo Jaekyung is a dragon and Kim Dan his yeouiju! As Jinx-addicts can perceive, the expression ” The Shotgun” shows his lack of humanity and cowardice. At the same time, it indicates that he is not the mastermind behind the plot, as he is just a tool. He is not a lucky charm, but bad omen. So when he whispered this to Joo Jaekyung, (chapter 49), in reality he was exposing his own personality, as he was projecting his own thoughts onto the star. Others have to do the dirty work for him (f. ex. polishing the belt, gathering intel) to prepare the battlefield for him. This contrasts so much to the champion and doctor’s attitude, for both embody hard work. Baek Junmin is imagining that the title will fall onto his lap thanks to the tricks and their insight. And now, take a closer look at the negative features of purple.

This quote fits my description about Baek Junmin. He is corrupt, hence he feels no remorse to scheme. Then he believes that the victory is already in his pocket, as everything has been carefully planned. The way he reached the top exposes him as a social climber. And now, I can even validate my previous interpretation: his golden watch and jewels were fake! (chapter 47) Where did I find the evidence for this? It is because Seok (from Gilseok) can signify “brass”! As you can see, thanks to two different notions “shotgun”, I could give a better portrait of the fake star. But this is far from being finished. Funny is that “Shotgun ” can also refer to a position in American football.

Interesting is that we had a similar formation in the locker room. Choi Gilseok and the other minion diverted the attention from Team Black, while the “Quarterback” could pass the frontline to bring the weapon to the other side. (chapter 49) It was, as if the team of King of MMA had scored a goal by bringing the pepper spray to the other side and switching it with the relief spray. (chapter 49) And what is the common denominator between the meaning “firearm” and “American football position”? Attack! But there’s more to it. As adjective, “shotgun” is indicating coercion and duress. And this corresponds to Choi Gilseok and Baek Junmin’s tactics. The director tried to put the physical therapist under pressure, when he met him in the café: (chapter 48) For that, he utilized the grandmother. I feel the need to add here that this scene confirmed my previous interpretation about Baek Junmin and Shin Okja. [For more read Angels of Death: Shadows versus Serenity] The latter was his enemy, and because of her request (Kim Dan should accept her death and stop the treatment), Kim Dan didn’t fall into the trap of the malicious director. Then, the dirty director of the gym reiterated his action in the hallway. (chapter 49) By meeting Kim Dan there, (chapter 49) he tried to sow seeds of doubt and even discord between the couple. It was to give the impression, they were working together. But the champion didn’t fall for it. The reason is that his fated partner was able to heal his injured shoulder. As a hypocrite and arrogant fighter, he utilized his small talk to threaten Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 49) As you can see, these “villains” were targeting both main characters mirroring another signification.

We could include the encounter between the two teams in the locker room as another illustration, for Oh Daehyun, Potato or Park Namwook were forced to become involved. (chapter 49) Interesting is that “shotgun” can also refer to a flat.

This made me think of the doctor’s humble home immediately. (chapter 10) (chapter 10) And what was the couple’s reaction during that night? While Kim Dan wept, as he was longing for his grandma (chapter 10), exposing his abandonment issues, the other looked down first on the physical therapist (chapter 10) before he had a change of heart. Kim Dan’s plea had moved his heart. (chapter 10) The problem is that the doctor couldn’t remember this scene due to his drunkenness. This scene leads us to another meaning of Shotgun.

This definition is not included in the Collins dictionary yet, as it is still under observation. Interesting is that ” shotgun” is not just connected to alcohol, but also to other drugs.

Interesting is that smoking was introduced with Choi Heesung who went to rooftop in order to smoke. It was, as if he desired to keep his image clean. (chapter 31) And this leads me to the following theory that Baek Junmin’s sin towards Joo Jaekyung was linked to drugs. Don’t forget that Mr. Choi is himself symbolizing “drug” due this image: (chapter 48) And both are working together. My hypothesis is that Baek Junmin was involved in drugging the athlete. The sportsman admitted that The Shotgun had schemed against him. (chapter 49) This would explain why Joo Jaekyung would never join the team’s dinner and why he reacted that way, when he drank a glass of soju: (chapter 43) He could recognize the alcohol, a sign that he must have tasted it before. His threat and anger were masking his fears. For me, he had a terrible experience with alcohol. And this brings me to the last signification of “Shotgun”: SEX! This was already brought up with the quote above, but I am quite sure that people have already heard the expression “Shotgun wedding”. Then I also found this description “Shotgun Sex”:

And this corresponds to the champion’s action in the penthouse (chapter 6), when Kim Dan had accepted the deal from the main lead. The erected phallus looks like a weapon and Kim Dan also made the connection, when he saw his huge anaconda with the sex toy: (Chapter 12) The idiom “shotgun sex” suggests a situation where sexual intercourse occurs hastily and impulsively. It has nothing to do with love and warmth. It is something done quickly or without much forethought, which corresponds to the scene in chapter 6. (chapter 6) And what do we see here? Submission!

1. 3. The Shotgun’s possible past with the Emperor

That’s how I came to the following conclusion: Baek Junmin is involved in the champion’s sexual assault in the past. And it has something to do with drugs. I am even suspecting gambling debts, and someone used the athlete’s generosity. Imagine that by combining these elements, I came to reinforce my follower @noteadrinker’s hypothesis. The latter even thought of a gangrape, and associated it with the loan shark’s scene. (chapter 17) Don’t forget that during that night, the soju was present as well. (chapter 17) Because of his nickname and the reflections from episode 10 and 17, I deduce that Baek Junmin was present, but he didn’t help the athlete. He turned a blind eye to the situation. (chapter 49) In other words, he didn’t behave like a hero contrary to Joo Jaekyung. I can’t help myself thinking of this scene: (chapter 11) Though Joo Jaekyung despised the doctor and called him pathetic, he still accepted his request. But let’s return our attention to The Shotgun. Moreover, the fact that he employed the expression “kid” insinuates that Baek Junmin is older than the athlete. So he could have the same age than Kim Dan. I feel like the physical therapist is slowly taking over Baek Junmin’s place. He is on the verge to shine like a star. With the theory of a gangrape or rape (phallus as a weapon), we would have the explanation why the criminal insulted the athlete with “A little bitch ass punk”. He was describing him as a poser and “douchebag”, whereas in verity, he is the coward. Hence he resorts to tricks to achieve his goal. And now, you comprehend why the champion felt the need to clean his hair after meeting the fake star. (chapter 49) He usually takes a shower in the morning, however this scene took place in the evening. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible as well why Joo Jaekyung couldn’t remember the criminal (chapter 49). It is related to a painful but short experience which scarred the athlete’s heart and soul.

No wonder why he was paralyzed after their short meeting. (chapter 49) It is because the latter had repressed his traumatic past. The other reason he didn’t remember him is that the latter had betrayed him. He was not worthy of being remembered and being noticed. Would you remember a poser and coward? No, not really. In my opinion, Baek Junmin stands for immaturity, betrayal, irresponsibility and false manhood.

Finally, we would have an explanation why the champion couldn’t identify the crime in the doctor’s house properly (chapter 18) and why both have no notion of “rape”. Joo Jaekyung must have been told that he was “responsible” for his misery, just like in this scene: “You did this”. (chapter 6) He brought him upon himself. He shouldn’t have drunk or taken drugs, he shouldn’t have been weak, he shouldn’t have been there that night… I see his statement there as an evidence for manipulations (chapter 18) If they are criminals, then the authorities should be informed, because the latter need to stop them, to make things worse for them. It was, as if he was advocating loansharking, though it is illegal. One might argue about this theory, for I deduced it simply from the name The Shotgun and its different reflections. However, Mingwa left us two other clues for this hypothesis.

2. The Jinx: the hidden line

The first one is the absence of sex. Many readers were caught by surprise. They wondered why Mingwa didn’t create any sex scene and how the couple treated each other during the sex session before the match. The answer is simple. The jinx of Joo Jaekyung had changed. It didn’t truly matter, if he had good sex or not with his physical therapist. 😮 And the evidence is this image: (chapter 49) He never loses! He sounded so confident and sure. His words contrast to his confession in his bedroom: (chapter 02) Never contradicts the idiom “I need”. He feels no need to have good sex in order to boost his ego. But how did this happen?

The reason is simple. By triggering the champion’s memories, Baek Junmin didn’t realize that he committed a huge mistake. He pushed Joo Jaekyung to meditate. The latter was silent in the car and looked through the window. (chapter 49) Secondly, once home, he went to the bathroom and the latter is the place for insight and reflection, like I explained it in the essay The duck and the dragon in the bathroom. One might argue that reflection in the bathroom is strongly intertwined with the mirror, like in this scene: (chapter 20) But contrary to the physical therapist, the champion had never denied the existence of his body. He didn’t need to look at his reflection to see any change. The pondering was triggered by The Shotgun’s words. Baek Junmin saw the protagonist in a different light: weak and pitiful. (chapter 49) In English, the MMA boxer portrayed Joo Jaekyung as a crybaby, while in the Spanish version (“Dabas much pena, miserable de mierda”) the translator referred with pena to shame, pity, sorrow and hurt. Through his words, the champion was forced to recall his past and how he was younger. He had to visualize himself, when he was a teenager. That’s the reason why in the bathroom, the champion was pondering under the shower, lost in his thoughts (chapter 49) and not looking at his own reflection. Here we were witnessing the birth of the champion’s third eye. In addition, this scene corresponds to the one in episode 3: (chapter 3) As you can see, the moment you connect these two scenes, it becomes clear that there was no sex. In episode 3, the doctor was fetched and had to have sex, while in episode 49, the PT waited for a signal from his boss, but it never came. Furthermore, the bathroom is the only place where the athlete doesn’t bring his cellphone! And the latter represents a huge hindrance to his meditation, like Jin-philes could observe it in chapter 35: (chapter 35) But there is more to it. The departure from the restroom corresponds to the doctor’s realization at the hospital.

Chapter 47Chapter 49
In the bathroom, the doctor spent the whole night crying, recalling the conversation from the oncologist. We have the same colors in his memories than in the altercation between the two fighters. Gradually, Kim Dan came to accept the truth: his grandmother couldn’t keep her promise, as she would never recover from her illness. He went on his knees, too devastated by the terrible news. However, he didn’t question the doctor’s action and behavior. Nonetheless, he was able to move on. He was forced to mature and become more independent. Here, the fighter must have spent a lot of time under the shower too. Nonetheless, he didn’t get devastated like his soulmate, for the simple reason that Baek Junmin had mocked him and even challenged him. This had triggered his anger.

The restroom symbolizes more than reflection, it stands for privacy, purification, transformation, transition, vulnerability and intimacy. There, he could cry internally (chapter 49) without getting disturbed. But don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying that the athlete was weeping. What I meant is that he was admitting the existence of his pain and suffering. This represents an important step to treat his own body with kindness. (chapter 43) He used his hand to protect his gaze, a sign of vulnerability. His shower in episode 49 is full of symbolism. He is cleansing himself, moving on from the past. Hence I deduce that this scene (chapter 49) corresponds to the doctor’s baptism in the swimming pool. (chapter 28) Because of this special day and night, Kim Dan came to accept sex and sensuality in his life. (chapter 29) (chapter 36) As you can see, all the scenes reflecting the bathroom scene in episode 49 contain SEX. Hence I see it as another evidence that the sex during that night had a different meaning: it was more a habit than a real need. And don’t forget that in the States, he had already complained about the timing. (chapter 39) He didn’t feel like “fucking” and it must have been the same during that night before the match. And if he had been sexually assaulted, anyone would comprehend why he didn’t feel any desire. Under this new light, Manhwaworms can understand why the title is “Embracing change”. The star is gradually dropping his old belief. He is one step closer to realize that he is not jinxed, he is strong enough to win the next fight. My avid readers should keep in their mind that when the couple argued on his birthday (chapter 45), he never brought up the jinx, a sign that he was already forgetting his old principles. This match represents a turning point in the athlete’s life, for from that moment on, he will perceive fighting differently. He is no longer pushed to take any challenge, for deep down, he felt that he was still weak and vulnerable. He was still trapped in the past.

On the other hand, Kim Dan must have been waiting for a signal from him. However, nothing happened. Hence the next morning, the physical therapist chose to take precautions! That’s why he brought the cream. (chapter 49) which was used for the sex session at the gym. (chapter 24) Moreover, he even took an ointment in case his anus would tear, for they didn’t have sex for a long time. (chapter 49) While searching for a treatment for skin irritation due to pepper spray, I discovered lidocaine topical.

Hence I am suspecting that the doctor took topicals in case. Imagine that they didn’t have sex for quite some time. So what pushed the champion to overcome the shock and his suffering? It is because Baek Junmin’s words helped him to canalize his anger and rage at the right person, the one responsible for his wounds! (chapter 49) But Baek Junmin was not alone in this. Due to his traumatic past, Joo Jaekyung came to resent and mistrust humans, for he never got the chance to get justice from his tormentors. That’s the reason why he rejected social norms. As time passed on, he repressed the incident and buried the identity of the persons responsible for his wounds, whereas his pain couldn’t vanish. Hence he was still boiling inside and his anger was directed at anyone. It would come to the surface at the slightest provocation or rejection. That’s why he was still trapped in the past. He had the impression, he could get assaulted at any time. Therefore he needed to prove his strength. And this brings me back to the whispered confession: (chapter 49) Baek Junmin forced the star to recall the past and face his deepest anxieties. I see another evidence in this panel that The Shotgun must have faced a crime. How so? It is because pity has for synonyms “catastrophe, crime and sin”. But it doesn’t end here. The Shotgun’s description made me think of this scene: (chapter 37) When the athlete saw the doctor’s reaction, the latter was looking away, (chapter 37) the VIP client got so angry that he sent Kim Dan away. And now, take a closer look to this image. (chapter 49) The characters are placed in the same position. The comparison between these two scenes reinforces my hypothesis that Baek Junmin mocked Joo Jaekyung, resented him and refused to help the younger fighter back then, as Kim Dan was looking away. On the other hand, by using the expression “baby” in English, Jinx-philes could sense parallels with the fight with Randy Booker. (chapter 14) Interesting is that this image represented a distorted memory from the main lead, and it happened again after meeting his old “acquaintance”. (chapter 49) This is the sign that Joo Jaekyung repressed a terrible incident, and the expressions “baby” and “pitiful” triggered his fears and repressed memories. And by confronting him with his past, The Shotgun shot himself in the foot! 😉 The reason is that Joo Jaekyung is now drawing a line under the past, which was reflected in the red poster.

(Chapter 47) The names are in the middle indicating that they won’t be able to switch places. The line represents the boundary which the fighters can not cross. In addition, the color was already implying anger, but also energy and action.. In my previous analysis about the poster Color Clash: Decoding MMA Posters, I elaborated that the red in the eyes was the doctor’s reflection. He is facing them, but he is caught in the middle. So while Baek Junmin saw in him a tool to wound the athlete, the protagonist is not seeing Kim Dan, but The Shotgun, for Kim Dan is the mirror beyond the clouds. He exposes the monsters. This means that in the long term, they will be able to expose the schemers and cheaters. Furthermore I have another reason to believe that his past relationship with the Shotgun will affect his with Kim Dan. It is because Joo Jaekyung remembers The Shotgun’s nature, he is a cheater and traitor. (chapter 49) Anyone can see the doctor’s shock and fear. (chapter 49) On the other side, this match has another signification for The Shotgun. How so? It is because he needs to win. He claimed that he would take away his belt. He believes that since Choi Gilseok paid a lot of money, he bet on his victory. Besides, the director of the gym even got humiliated himself. However, he is deluding himself, for he was just a tool to ruin the Emperor. A shotgun is an firearm and as such it is dispensable. Furthermore, this panel displays Junmin’s jealousy towards the celebrity. (chapter 49) Joo Jaekyung has been in the spotlight for a long time (chapter 49), whereas The Shotgun was relegated to fight in the shadow! He was fighting in the underground fighting ring, but since it was illegal, he couldn’t become famous and rich. He couldn’t be exposed to the spotlight. This shows that deep down, Baek Junmin was also trapped in the past. He came to resent the protagonist, for the latter had been able to rise the ranks. That’s why he couldn’t forget him contrary to the celebrity. The latter was not only successful professionally, but also admired as a hero. It looked like he had been able to move on from the past, whereas for The Shotgun, it was the exact opposite. He became more and more involved in crimes. Don’t forget that he is helping the director from the King of MMA gym to launder money. Thus I deduce that Baek Junmin is underestimating his opponent. (chapter 49) First, he has this image of the young main lead from the past. In his eyes, he is still a little crybaby. Secondly, don’t forget that all the games from The Shotgun were rigged, so in his mind, the star must have been doing the same. He views himself as a Shotgun, in verity he is just a pepper spray, a big mouth which can lead to irritations and tears, but the wound is rather superficial. It can not cause real damages. On the other hand, the pepper spray is harmless, as long as the other can not talk. Consequently, I am expecting The Shotgun’s defeat. He won’t get scot free from this match. One reason for this positive outcome is that Joo Jaekyung has been able to free himself from that darkness. He is slowly able to see the light. Furthermore, since my hypothesis is that Kim Dan utilized a pepper spray in the locker room, I couldn’t help myself of viewing this as a talisman. Surprised, right? First, there was no witness of the incident except the members from Team Black. Hence the doctor can avoid troubles with the authorities. But there exists another reason.

As you can see, this weapon is derived from red peppers. Interesting is that in Italy, red chilly is considered as a luck charm.

Hence I believe that this terrible incident will remain a secret within Potato, Joo Jaekyung, Park Namwook, Jeong Yosep. As for Joo Jaekyung, the afflicted pain in the ankle can only increase the rage and resent towards the scheming, but blinded Baek Junmin. This can only reinforce Joo Jaekyung’s determination to defeat The Shotgun. The latter should realize very quickly that he is not a firearm, but a human too. He is not made of metal, but of flesh and blood. So he could cry tears of blood or even get injured. The athlete won’t show any mercy. The Shotgun is not capable to adapt himself to new circumstances. He is no all-rounder, for he adapts his tactics based on the intel. With no insight, it was, as if he had become a blind man. He lacks strategies and experiences, for he is a new comer and a cheater. This explicates why the fight ended up in a tie, (chapter 51) they had never planned to turn the new comer into a champion, people would have questioned the outcome. The real intention was to tarnish the champion’s reputation, to isolate him, to make him lose his stans. And they almost achieved it. Baek Junmin never realized his true position. He was just a middle-man, a hit-man that they would discard right after his “victory”. Hence he is no longer in the media, because his name is now linked with the incident with the switched spray.

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.