Jinx: Breathless in the Light 🏰😶‍🌫️ – part 2

Since today, a new chapter will be released, this second part can not be long. Yet, I wanted to share my latest observations before the publication of chapter 83.

In the first part, I focused on the origins of the champion’s breathlessness and its cure: the amusement park. However, the air was not the only important element in episode 82. Let’s take another look at this image: (chapter 81) The plane soars not only above the Alps, but also above a vast river (probably the Rhône)— two landscapes that silently echo the dual composition of breath itself. Breath is made of air and water: oxygen and vapor, wind and moisture. (chapter 82) In that sense, the clouds surrounding the aircraft are not mere weather; they are the perfect union of the two elements that sustain life.

Joo Jaekyung’s breathlessness, then, is not simply a physiological lack of oxygen — it is the absence of water, the missing element of tenderness and flow. The champion has spent his life breathing air devoid of moisture, surviving on discipline, pride, and control — a dry atmosphere where emotion cannot condense. (chapter 82) That’s why, when Potato offers him a bottle of Evian, he doesn’t even look. He doesn’t need the water from the mountain and as such the world; he needs the water of the body — the intimacy, the shared moisture that reconnects him to life itself. What he truly longs for is Kim Dan’s saliva, the living trace of water transformed into affection, into care, into exchange. (chapter 81) He is longing for his lips and as such a kiss.

Only through that bodily element — through the return of water inside air — can he breathe again fully. Dan’s body literally rehydrates him. The vapor that once escaped his lungs returns as mist, as breath shared between two beings. At the same time, it teaches him how to breathe properly, the reverse of this scene in the locker room. (chapter 15)

And this elemental union anticipates the next landscape: the amusement park, where the air is filled with laughter, humidity, and movement. (chapter 82) Many attractions — the Ferris wheel, the fountain rides, the water park zones — combine air and water, height and spray, just like breath itself. And now, you understand why the champion got wounded with the spray (chapter 49) It corresponds to the negative version of the “breath”.

Another possibility is that they first share the same drink or the same ice cream (epilogue), because doc Dan wants to ensure that the drink or the ice cream is okay. (chapter 82) When Jaekyung and Dan enter the funfair, they’re not simply having fun; they’re reliving the chemistry of respiration and affection — the inhalation of joy, the exhalation of fear, the splash of renewal. The park becomes an externalized lung, a circular world of rides where water and air, play and life, are finally reconciled.

The Castle as Fairy-Tale Threshold

In the amusement park, the castle (chapter 82) stands as a replica of every child’s first dream: a place where danger ends, where curses lift, where the beast becomes human. In this new setting, the ring is replaced by an amusement park — a space where joy is no longer born from suffering. (chapter 15) The arena that once fed on pain, blood, and hierarchy gives way to a landscape of shared laughter, circular motion, and renewal. Here, entertainment is not built upon the exhaustion of bodies but upon their liberation. The crowd no longer watches to see who will fall; they rise and descend together. (chapter 82) People are more focused on their own emotions and experiences.

For Joo Jaekyung, this shift marks a fundamental redefinition of performance itself. The fighter who once turned agony into spectacle now experiences movement as play. The wolf who fought to survive in the ring learns to live among rides, fountains, and lights — spaces where the body moves not to conquer, but to feel.

Thus, the amusement park becomes his anti-ring — a sanctuary of reciprocity, where elevation and descent belong to everyone, and no one bleeds to entertain the rest. For Joo Jaekyung, who has spent his life trapped in the cycle of competition and rage, walking into that space with Kim Dan is an act of symbolic initiation. He brings the doctor — his witness and healer — into a world he has always avoided: fantasy, gentleness, illusion.

The wolf who once prowled in underground gyms now enters a castle built for children, and in doing so he accepts the possibility of becoming a fairy-tale prince — not by winning, but by transforming.

Why the “First Kiss” Matters Here

A fairy tale’s turning point is always the kiss — the moment when the spell breaks. And you might recall that I came to associate Kim Dan with Sleeping Beauty and in the illustration of that analysis, I I placed the doctor’s birthday. And that’s how I remembered here the boy’s huge smile and joy. (chapter 11) And now, pay attention to the number of the next episode: 83! The two numbers combined together make 11! As you can see, the amusement park is the most natural setting for a smile and kiss. Joo Jaekyung could even speak about his first kiss, an intimate secret that even Kim Dan doesn’t know. Confessing it there would align his personal myth with the fairy-tale architecture around him. This would make doc Dan realize that he is special contrary to the green-haired ex-lover. (chapter 42). But there’s more to it. In episode 81, Doc Dan rejects the champion’s advance — he turns his head away (chapter 81) letting the lips slip past him like water. Yet, in the very same scene, he allows a kiss on the neck, a place where breath, warmth, and pulse converge. (chapter 81) He never pushes him back. The doctor resists with the face — with speech, with identity — but not with the body. (chapter 81) And so, at the end, the athlete moves upward, trying to reach the mouth, trying to taste what remains forbidden. But he fails. (chapter 81) Why? Because the lips are not mere flesh; for Doc Dan, they are the visible border between desire and love. Jinx-lovers will remember his quiet request in the locker room (chapter 15): he links the lips to the heart — and through it, to the notion of consent. (chapter 15) To kiss him there is to ask for entry not into his body, but into his feeling.

That is why the scene at the pool stops at the threshold. The champion can touch his skin, but not yet his soul. (chapter 81) The water envelops them both — fluid, intimate — yet the final element is still missing: agreement, the meeting of air and will. Until Jaekyung learns to ask, to replace taking with invitation, the kiss will remain suspended, like a breath held underwater, waiting to surface into love. And now, you comprehend why he couldn’t achieve his goal in the swimming pool. It was, as if he was trying to recreate the situation in season 1. In other words, I deduce that there will be a confession before a kiss happens!!

From Wolf To Prince

A Jinx-lover noticed the similarities between this scene (chapter 17) and the one in front of the amusement park: (chapter 82) The two scenes mirror each other like opposite poles of Joo Jaekyung’s evolution. In both, he is dressed in black — a color that once signified anonymity and danger, but later becomes the mark of calm confidence.

In episode 17, the champion hides behind darkness. The cap pulled low conceals his eyes, his face is half-shadowed, and his clothes absorb light rather than reflect it. (chapter 17) When he intervenes to save Kim Dan from the loan sharks, he is first mistaken for one of them — a predator among predators. The irony is sharp: the man who comes to rescue looks indistinguishable from those who harm. The fighters’ world has taught him that power and fame must be hidden; he was encouraged to hide, as if the fans would attack him. He chose anonymity, unaware that this would not only isolate him but also make him appear as a thug. And don’t forget how the manager called him initially: (chapter 75) He is a monster. It was, as if the manager wanted to hide the “wolf” from people out of fear that he might attack people randomly. But the problem is that by dressing like that, he was no different from Heo Manwook. Therefore his heroism passes unnoticed, interpreted as violence and intrusion. (chapter 18) Like Batman, he moves in secrecy, protecting without ever being thanked. The outfit explains why his good deed leaves no trace of gratitude — the savior looks like the aggressor.

By episode 82, the transformation is complete. (chapter 82) He still wears black, but the darkness no longer hides him. The cap now sits higher, revealing his eyes and mouth — the organs of emotion and speech. A necklace gleams at his throat, a quiet emblem of openness. He walks beside Kim Dan in daylight, not to fight but to share joy. The man who once lurked in alleys now stands beneath the sky of the amusement park, where black absorbs light rather than extinguishes it.

The contrast encapsulates the metamorphosis of the wolf into a prince. And how did Heo Manwook call him? (chapter 17) A princeling! He was mocking him, because he knew that the fights were actually rigged. That’s why he called him fake. (chapter 17) This new connection reinforces my theory that the schemers are anticipating the Emperor’s demise. (chapter 82) Thus Arnaud Gabriel’s words are full of irony. There’s no luck in this match. However, the antagonists are not anticipating a metamorphosis. The wolf hides and strikes; the prince reveals and protects. The wolf saves without witnesses; the prince loves in full view. In the ring’s darkness he fought to survive; in the park’s brightness he learns to live and love. And the moment Joo Jaekyung is freed from his curse and can breathe, his next game will be different. Why? It is because the champion has another reason to make doc Dan’s wish to come true: they should work together for a long time! And observe the power of Doc Dan’s angel on the Emperor after spending his first night with his “bride”. He was full of energy!

Where his earlier anonymity made his goodness invisible, his new transparency makes tenderness possible. The same man, once mistaken for a criminal, now smiles like a fairy-tale hero. The cap lifted from his eyes symbolizes the lifting of his own blindness — he can finally see and be seen.

The Floating Duck Syndrome

However, contrary to the Sleeping Beauty or the Mermaid, we have two men as protagonists. So there is no princess. It is important because it signifies that we should expect two metamorphosis at the amusement park. That’s why it is difficult to say who will confess first. Nevertheless, this weekend, I discovered the following article: Floating Duck Syndrome. Psychologists use the expression floating duck syndrome to describe people who appear serene on the surface while paddling frantically beneath the water to keep themselves afloat. The image is both graceful and tragic: calm above, exhaustion below. It captures the condition of those who have learned to survive through composure — who equate love with performance and stability with silence.

This is Kim Dan’s illness in miniature. Ever since childhood he has floated through life without showing the effort beneath. The grandmother’s silence taught him that visible pain is shameful; the bullying taught him that vulnerability invites attack. So he learned to glide — polite, deferential, self-effacing — while his legs beat desperately under the surface. His smiles are survival reflexes, not joy. His stillness is not peace but tension. And we should see the picture of Kim Dan with his grandmother as a reflection of this Syndrome. (chapter 65) so he is not standing on his own two feet. And remember that according to me, Shin Okja stands for shore. He is smiling as if everything is fine, but the reality is different. When Dan sits on her lap wearing the duck shirt, he seems safe, grounded, “held.” Yet the shore (the halmoni) isn’t truly stable — it’s brittle earth pretending to resist erosion. She gives him the illusion of safety, not the reality of it. The hydrangeas stand for temporality. The body contact replaces emotional transparency. What he learns in that moment is: “If I stay still and quiet, she’ll hold me.” Thus, his first emotional rule becomes immobility and silence. That is how the floating duck is born — not by moving freely in water, but by learning to suppress movement to preserve attachment.

The floating duck explains why he could live beside death for so long — the dying grandmother, the dying puppy, the dying parts of himself — without ever asking for help. He confuses endurance with dignity. When the champion first meets him, he sees only the surface: the quiet doctor, calm as water. (chapter 56) He doesn’t yet see the storm and suffering beneath.

Parallel Currents: The Prince and the Duck

As Joo Jaekyung rises from wolf to prince, he travels from hidden aggression to open affection. And by doing so, he encourages to see activities as something fun. So far, Kim Dan sees such a day more as a burden and not as a source of joy. Why? It is because he still views himself as the champion’s physical therapist and nothing more. (chapter 82) But in such a place, it is, as if time was stopped. Thanks to the many emotions and sensations, his body and heart will be revived. Through fun, the duck will change. As Kim Dan ascends from floating duck to swimmer and to a flying duck, he moves from hidden suffering to open breath. Thus the Ferris Wheel will have definitely an impact on him. Both arcs revolve around air and water — the two elements that make up breath and emotion. Don’t forget that the doctor embodies the clouds as well, while the athlete stands for steam.

In the early episodes, Dan’s relationship to water is defensive: he stays afloat but never dives. He cannot trust the element that once carried his grief. Jaekyung, conversely, dominates air — he owns every breath in the ring but cannot breathe freely outside it.
When the champion teaches him to swim and later to have fun, their roles merge: the man of air brings air to the man of water. Dan’s first genuine strokes are also his first act of rebellion against quiet despair. He is no longer a duck faking serenity; he is a swimmer choosing motion. Thus he can start flying. And now, you comprehend my illustration.

From Survival to Freedom

The floating duck syndrome ends the moment visibility becomes safe. For Kim Dan, that safety arrives when Jaekyung learns to play — when the arena turns into an amusement park, when life stops demanding perfection and begins inviting joy. Play, after all, is what ducks do when they are no longer afraid of drowning: they splash.

Thus both men’s journeys converge.

  • The wolf learns tenderness.
  • The duck learns courage. Hence he has the strength to fly on his own and can join the clouds.
  • The air learns moisture.
  • The water learns breath.

Together they compose the complete lung of the story — two halves finally synchronizing. The one who once hid in darkness now walks in light; the one who once floated in silence now swims toward sound. And this can only happen, when both feel grateful toward each other. (chapter 45)

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 Watery Point 🔵 Of No Return ⤵️

Water and Power

Two years ago, I published the analysis At the crossroads: between 🤍, 💙, and ❤️‍🔥 and it has become the most read essay on my blog. [27.3 K views] It traced Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan’s first day off together—the fateful swim in chapters 27-28 —when Joo Jaekyung’s apparent selfishness became the catalyst for Kim Dan’s first spiritual awakening. There, the water served as both mirror and baptism: a liquid threshold through which the doctor began to accept sexuality not as sin or submission, but as part of being alive. I had compared the athlete to a dragon holding his yeouiju. The pool stood for motion, rebirth, and the courage to breathe underwater—to trust one’s body rather than deny it.

Though the grandmother was never mentioned, I had sensed her ghostly presence in the grandson’s thoughts and actions. In her youth, the ocean looked beautiful to her (chapter 53), yet she kept her distance. Observe that she only talked about one time experience. She sensed its danger and built her life on the solid ground of caution, duty, and control. In other words, she belongs to the world of the shore (chapter 53) —the solid, the measurable, the safe. Her fascination with the sea’s beauty reveals the limits of her perception: she judges by what is visible, by surface calm and reflected light. The ocean entrances her precisely because she refuses to imagine what lies beneath. For her, beauty is something to be looked at, not entered. Depth implies risk; darkness suggests loss of control.

That is why she keeps her distance. She fears what cannot be seen or accounted for — the unseen currents, the hidden life beneath the glittering skin of water. Her faith is built on appearances, not intuition; on the stability of the shore, not the movement of the tide. Thus I deduce that she never learned to swim. To her, entering the water would mean surrendering control, accepting fluidity, and admitting the existence of life below the surface. This means, swimming would expose the falsehood of her philosophy. That’s why I come to the following deduction that to her, swimming was unnecessary; one simply had to stay on land and hope never to fall in. But the pool, unlike the ocean, demanded a choice: enter, move, the pleasure of being below the surface (chapter 28) and learn that not everything can be postponed or entrusted to someone else. Water, in this sense, rejects fatalism. It calls for motion, for risk, for personal responsibility.

What the grandmother built on faith in others was quietly undone by breath and muscle. (chapter 80) And that intuition resurfaced and was confirmed in episode 80, when another day off brings the couple back to the pool. This time, the doctor steps into the water willingly. (chapter 80) He is no longer the man waiting to be rescued; he is the man learning how to swim. The champion’s words (chapter 80) distill the new doctrine: don’t wait for salvation (chapter 80), create your own buoyancy. Between the first swim (chapter 27) and this second lies the true point of no return—where superficial judgment turns into reflection, dependency into self-trust (chapter 80) and the rejection of powerlessness, (chapter 80), and fear of closeness (chapter 28) into the first stirrings of love (chapter 80).

Shin Okja’s private religion was one of delegation: wait for the right person, the right moment, the right help to come. That’s why she never got the chance to return to the ocean. (chapter 53) Safety lay in patience and dependence. Even when she later spoke with the champion by the sea, she avoided mentioning the ocean —as if to deny that any movement beyond her control could exist.

(chapter 65)

One might argue that I am overinterpreting, since the grandmother’s presence seems unrelated to the swimming pool and tied instead to her graduation gift—the gray hoodie. (chapter 80) Yet her absence from the pool scene is precisely what reveals her theology of avoidance. The pool was never her domain because her life revolves around work, not pleasure. She has no notion of rest without guilt, no concept of joy detached from utility. For her, swimming would appear frivolous—something “unnecessary” as long as one stays on solid ground. Jinx-philes should keep in mind that she never gave such a task to Joo Jaekyung. Her instructions to him were always practical, delegating care outward: take him back to Seoul, bring him to a big hospital and make sure he’s safe. (chapter 65) When she sees them together, her first reaction is not pride or relief but mild reproach— doc Dan should have left already. (chapter 78) The subtext is unmistakable: she expected obedience, efficiency, not attachment. Furthermore, her final instruction—“Make sure you see a doctor regularly” (chapter 78) sounds like ordinary concern, yet it hides her familiar logic of blame. It is as if she were implying that Joo Jaekyung has failed to fulfill her favor because Kim Dan has resisted care. In her eyes, the grandson is still the one responsible for trouble; the athlete’s role remains that of the dependable proxy who must “fix” him. What makes this moment striking is her tone of urgency, so unlike her habitual fatalism. The woman who once repeated “I’m the same as always” (chapter 65) suddenly speaks as though time is running out. (chapter 78) Her words, however, do not signal newfound insight—they only reinforce her desire to keep control, to ensure that someone else continues her mission of delegated care.

But what she interprets as negligence is actually independence. The champion is no longer following her religion of work and duty; he is inventing a new one based on choice (chapter 77), respect and care. What she calls delay is, in truth, meditation and transformation.

Presents: The Gray Hoodie and the Lady

If the grandmother’s religion was built on work, the gray hoodie was its sacred relic. (chapter 80) It was her graduation gift, yet it had nothing to do with his new profession or status. In contrast, the first episode already shows Kim Dan in a blue therapist’s uniform, name tag neatly pinned — a garment he must have purchased himself. (chapter 1) Traditionally, a graduation present helps the recipient embark on a career — like for example, a watch, a suit, or even a briefcase — symbols of adult entry into the job market. By offering him a hoodie instead, she unconsciously devalued her grandson’s professional worth. The garment belongs to the domestic sphere, not the workplace; it wraps him in comfort rather than readiness. In a moment meant to celebrate his arrival into public life, she reinscribes him into the private one — the house, the caretaker role, the obedient child. He doesn’t look like someone who went to university.

The gesture, whether she intended it or not, tells him that his identity has no market value beyond her recognition. The gift affirms warmth but denies competence; it soothes rather than equips. In addition, the grandmother’s choice of a hoodie exposes her lack of investment in that future. Her pride ended at the diploma; what came next was his responsibility. (chapter 47) There was no curiosity about his career, no acknowledgment of his competence—only the quiet satisfaction that through her endurance, she had produced a “doctor.” In the graduation photo, she even wears the mortarboard herself, smiling with the pride of someone who believes the diploma justifies a lifetime of sacrifice. Her grandson’s success confirms her own virtue; his “adulthood” validates her survival. This question to the athlete exposes her lack of interests in his profession: (chapter 65)

But her act of giving, like her act of living, was book-keeping disguised as affection. (chapter 41) While dying, she reduces love to an equation of productivity: “Dan, it’s important to give back as much as you take.” The verb do anchors her worldview — love must be measurable, visible, earned through action. To do good by someone means to labor for them, not to rest beside them. What caught my attention is that neither doctor (chapter 27) nor the champion employs the expression “vacation” or “break”. (chapter 80) Why? It is because they never experienced a break. We have to envision that the “hamster” must have followed his grandmother, when he was not busy studying or working. Both main leads never experienced a real vacation. They say a day off, as if the day itself didn’t really exist, as if it were a temporary pause between “real” time. In their inherited logic, only work gives time its value; everything else evaporates. The grandmother’s way of loving has turned rest into an absence, something unworthy of being named. However, observe that there’s a gradual change in doc Dan’s vocabulary: (chapter 80) The problem is that for the hamster, only the athlete is worthy of getting his rest. It still doesn’t belong to his world.

Shin Okja’s universe contains no category for leisure, play, or shared time; such things produce nothing, and what produces nothing has no value. Even when she worries — “You haven’t eaten?” (chapter 5) the focus remains mechanical. Eating is fuel; sleep is maintenance. But rest, in the sense of surrender, stillness, or joy, is foreign to her lexicon.

Her self-image as a tireless worker (chapter 47) is, in truth, a legend she wrote about herself. When Kim Dan recalls that “she’s never had a day’s rest,” the statement reveals more about his belief than about her reality. The woman who claimed endless labor also knew the comfort of “weekends” (chapter 30) — she watched The Fine Line, the very drama that made Choi Heesung famous. The detail seems trivial, yet it exposes everything: she had leisure (chapter 30), she simply refused to call it that. Watching television was permitted because it was passive, solitary, and could be rationalized as recuperation, not pleasure. In contrast, genuine rest — time shared, chosen, or joyful — never existed in her vocabulary. What she denied was not the existence of rest but the act of resting with him. She kept her downtime to herself, as if peace were a private possession. For her, love meant providing, not accompanying. Yet true care requires presence — sharing is caring, as the saying goes. [For more read this essay: Sharing is caring ] To share one’s time is to acknowledge another person’s worth beyond utility. Shin Okja never did that; she offered comfort but withheld companionship.This is why Kim Dan later struggles to accept that Joo Jaekyung is willing to spend his own time on him — the champion does what the grandmother never did: he makes room for him in his rest. His attempt is to make the main lead smile, to make him happy.

Her statement in chapter 65 — (chapter 65) displays that she perceives her grandson’s exhaustion not as suffering but as malfunction, as if the human were a device that could be recalibrated through work and pills. That’s why her favors revolves about living conditions, but not about his “happiness”. Perhaps she genuinely hoped that the drugs and the stability of a “regular job” with the champion would realign him, as though routine alone could fix what grief and deprivation had unbalanced.

What she never imagines, however, is that balance might emerge not from regulation but from relationship — not from control, but from the unpredictable rhythm of living. Thus the readers can hear or sense the heart racing of the protagonists.

But let’s return our attention to the grandmother. Because she keeps an account, affection becomes another form of work, and gratitude a form of repayment. She cannot imagine love that simply exists — it must be done. Every gesture had to be accounted for and eventually entered into the invisible ledger of “what I’ve done for you.” For her, a gift was never spontaneous; it was a transactional record. It had to suggest effort without truly requiring it—so she could later recall it as proof of trouble taken. But why is she doing this? Ultimately, Shin Okja’s greatest flaw is not cruelty but distrust. She never truly believes her grandson can stand on his own. She fears that he might take the wrong path. (chapter 65) Her constant bookkeeping—every favor tallied, every gift framed as trouble—betrays a hidden fear: that if she stops keeping score, she will lose him. Rather than grant him autonomy, she entrusts him to another caretaker. Sending him to the champion is not an act of faith but of resignation, a way to offload responsibility while maintaining the illusion of control.

When she “went out of her way,” she made sure the phrase itself became part of the gift. The author let transpire this philosophy in two events. In an earlier memory, the child Kim Dan watches his grandmother return home from the cold night (chapter 11), scarf tied under her chin, carrying a single sweet bun. She doesn’t need to say she “went out of her way”—her action already proclaims it. The effort is the gift. (chapter 11) That simple walk to the store becomes a moral event, proof of affection through fatigue. (chapter 11) Even the smallest purchase is framed as sacrifice. The sweet bread itself—a cheap red bean bun—is less nourishment than testimony: “Look what I endured for you.” If he had followed her, he would have seen that it didn’t take so much effort and money to buy the “present”. Finally, he had to share the sweet bread with his grandmother.

This moment sets the pattern for her entire philosophy of giving. Love must be earned through trouble; care must leave a trace of effort. The gesture matters more than the joy it brings. In her world, affection is always accompanied by labor, and gratitude becomes indistinguishable from guilt.This pattern repeats across her life. To “go out of one’s way” (chapter 80) becomes both proof of care and a claim for repayment. Hence she went to school or university for the ceremonies. However, such an action stands for social tradition and normality. She gives little, but ensures it feels heavy. Each offering, no matter how modest, is wrapped in the language of fatigue and obligation. The child, in turn, learns that to be loved is to feel guilty, and to receive is to incur debt.

The hoodie later inherits this same emotional script. It’s the adult version of the birthday bun: humble, practical, and accompanied by invisible conditions. Both are gifts that measure sacrifice, not joy. When she says she “went through so much” to raise him, she isn’t lying—she is testifying, recording her hardship in fabric and flour. However, pay attention to the picture from the hamster’s memory: (chapter 47) Where is the gray hoodie? That day, he only received a bouquet of flowers. Its absence in the photo is revealing. A gray hoodie would have looked out of place beside formal suits and robes; it would have exposed her thrift. The omission is both aesthetic and psychological: she hides the evidence of small-minded practicality beneath the spectacle of maternal pride. What was invisible at the ceremony later re-emerges in episode 80 (chapter 80), and with it, the emotional economy she built.

It is not far-fetched to imagine that the hoodie came paired with a favor or transaction (chapter 53) —perhaps the signing of the loan. “You’re a doctor now; you’ll pay it off quickly.” (chapter 80) In her eyes, generosity always justified expectation. The flowers were for display; the hoodie was the contract.

That’s why her gifts always come from the same palette: dull, neutral, gray. Even the birthday sequence is bathed in that dim, ochre light where warmth looks like exhaustion. The gray hoodie continues this chromatic philosophy—safety without brightness, affection without ease.

This explains why the hoodie feels less like a present and more like a receipt. At the same time, it denies him “adulthood” too. A sweater, not a suit; warmth, not celebration. Its comfort masked her emotional distance and her disinterest in his career. She gave him something to wear at home—a garment of rest that forbids real rest—because her world allowed no leisure without guilt.

Her sense of time mirrored that logic. She lived oriented toward the past (chapter 65) and the future (chapter 78), rarely the present. Hence she shows no real joy about their visit before their departure. Life for her was a chain of recollections and predictions: what she had done (chapter 65), what he would one day repay (chapter 47). The present moment existed only as a bridge between past sacrifice and future obligation. The embrace is conditional — a rehearsal for independence, not tenderness. In that instant, love is already an investment waiting for return. The teddy bear pressed between them, once a symbol of innocence and comfort, becomes collateral in this emotional economy: the pledge that he will someday “grow up,” earn, and pay back the care that raised him. Even at the graduation, she treated the day not as fulfillment but as record keeping. (chapter 47) The bouquet of flowers visible in the picture served as public proof of pride, while the hoodie—cheap, colorless, and private—belonged to the closed economy of obligation.

The scarf later mirrors this same logic, but in reverse. (chapter 41) When Dan gifts his grandmother an expensive scarf, he hides its true price — “I got it for a bargain” — repeating her own pattern of disguised generosity. She sees through the lie, teasing him for “spoiling” her, yet she accepts the luxury without feeling guilty. The scarf becomes her version of the hoodie: a fabric trophy of moral worth. But its later disappearance is revealing. In season two, she wears it (chapter 56) shortly after her arrival at the hospice, never again. When she greets Joo Jaekyung, the scarf is gone (chapter 61). Why? One might reply that the scarf lost its value, especially since she is living next to the director’s room. I doubt that such men would pay attention to such an object. Another possibility is that she fears its brightness might betray her neglect, for the champion has lived with her grandson for a while. How could she display silk while her grandson owns almost nothing? (chapter 80) The missing scarf thus exposes both her superficiality and exaggerated generosity. Her affection, like her pride, is short-lived — decorative rather than enduring. Should Heesung ever visit her, (chapter 30) one can easily imagine the scarf’s reappearance: the fabric of self-deception, ready to flatter, to perform, to erase guilt under the sheen of respectability. She already acted like a fan girl in front of the celebrity. (chapter 61)

The pattern of her giving finds its quiet conclusion in episode 80. When Kim Dan rediscovers the hoodie, his first smile fades into silence. (chapter 80) The gesture that once symbolized love now feels like pain and loss. The signification of the gift has changed. What once wrapped him in safety now weighs like absence — the fabric retains the shape of someone who is about to vanish. His silence is not understanding but hurt, a wordless awareness that affection can curdle into memory. The audience, not the character, perceives that with the grandmother’s approaching death, her ledger is about to close. The gray fabric, once proof of her sacrifice, will lose its moral weight; her “gesture” will expire with her. Yet Kim Dan may not yet realize that this very ending could one day free him. The book-keeping dies with the bookkeeper.

This moment also reveals why he remains wary of other people’s gifts. (chapter 31) When Heesung offers flowers “to get closer,” Kim Dan’s face mirrors the same unease: affection presented as transaction, intimacy disguised as generosity. What the actor calls closeness, the doctor feels as imbalance — the same emotional distance that Shin Okja’s presents once produced. Her gifts, meant to bind, isolated him instead; they built a hierarchy where gratitude replaced equality. Each present widened the gap between giver and receiver. To be cared for was to be indebted.

From this upbringing stems Kim Dan’s reflexive equation:

Each time someone offers him something, he instinctively feels burdens (chapter 31) and tries to refuse it. (chapter 31) (chapter 80) “You don’t have to go through all this trouble.” The line is not modesty but defense. To him, receiving kindness creates imbalance. His grandmother’s “help” was always instrumental; every act of support came attached to sacrifice: “I went through so much for you.” The hoodie thus becomes a moral anchor, a fabric reminder that love must always be earned and repaid.

Guilt as Love Language.

Because of this, Kim Dan experiences love only through fatigue and suffering. He feels cared for when someone worries (chapter 67), loses sleep, or pays a price. He interprets Joo Jaekyung’s concern as “trouble,” Heesung’s gifts as “too much.” In his mind, affection is inseparable from cost:

If you love me, you must pay for it. And if I accept your love, I’m guilty.

Caretaker Identity and Self-Erasure


To escape that guilt, he lives as a helper. (chapter 80) “I’ll stay in the background.” His self-worth depends on not burdening others. His words let transpire that he has never been Shin Okja’s first priority in the end. The hoodie reinforces that psychology—it is not a professional outfit like a suit or briefcase would have been, but a teenager’s garment, meant for the domestic space rather than the adult world. It literally arrests his growth, keeping him in the house and under her logic. Thus it is not surprising that after receiving his diploma, he still took part-time jobs.

Gifts as Triggers of Anxiety

When others try to give him something—Heesung’s flowers, Jaekyung’s wardrobe—his first instinct is panic. “What do I do? It’s all so expensive.” He expects a hidden price: affection, submission, repayment. Every gesture of generosity recalls the old bargain with his grandmother.

Repetition Compulsion

He repeats the same dynamic with new authority figures. With Heesung, he suspects every gift hides control. With Joo Jaekyung, he accepts care only to reduce someone else’s burden. When the champion lies—“These brands sent the wrong size; I was going to throw them out anyway”—Kim Dan hears not kindness but necessity. Refusing would mean waste, and he has long internalized that nothing must ever be wasted. So he accepts—not out of entitlement, but as an act of thrift, a way to help the giver by taking what is “useless.”

And yet, through this misreading, something begins to shift. The logic of guilt quietly bends toward mutual release. Jaekyung sheds excess; Dan sheds shame. The exchange of clothes becomes an exchange of burdens.

Gray: The Color of Suspension.

The hoodie’s color captures the entire tragedy of their old world. Gray is neither black nor white—it refuses decision, blending work and rest, love and obligation. It is the color of compromise, of deferred joy, of life half-lived. Gray also carries another meaning beyond monotony. It fuses black and white — two opposites that, when mixed, erase each other’s clarity. The hoodie’s color therefore reflects the fused identity of grandmother and grandson: their lives blended until he became her shadow. Her pride shone only through his dimness. To live in gray meant to live as her reflection — never as himself. The color embodies both her dominance and his self-erasure. When Kim Dan finds it again in episode 80, his first smile fades into silence. (chapter 80) The object that once expressed care and promised safety now mirrors grief. The gray fabric absorbs the light around him, turning into the shade of everything unspoken between love and duty.

The hoodie, once a symbol of endurance, now becomes a relic of a world where love meant survival. To wear it again would be to stay in that twilight. To put it away is to risk color, to learn to live in the present tense.

The Wardrobe: Undoing the Gray Religion

If the gray hoodie was the relic of Shin Okja’s work-based faith, Joo Jaekyung’s wardrobe (chapter 80) is the site of its quiet destruction. His act of giving reverses every law the grandmother ever taught. First, he does not “go out of his way.” The clothes are delivered effortlessly, without fanfare or moral accounting. (chapter 80) There is no speech about sacrifice, no self-congratulation. (chapter 80) By erasing the gesture of “effort,” he removes the emotional price tag that once accompanied every gift.

Second, he tells a deliberate lie: that he did not spend a dime, that the brands sent the wrong sizes. This white lie has healing power. It dismantles the logic of debt that rules Kim Dan’s psyche. (chapter 80) If the grandmother’s motto was “I went through so much for you,” the champion’s is “It’s no big deal.” Generosity becomes invisible, unburdened, and therefore trustworthy.

Third, he offers not one item but an entire range. (chapter 80) The row of garments invites choice — a concept absent from Shin Okja’s universe, where love came in single doses and with strings attached. Here, the doctor is asked to select what he likes, to exercise taste, to inhabit preference. The abundance of options grants him agency, dignity, and the right to refuse.

Fourth, note the nature of the clothes: they are not sportswear. (chapter 80) These are professional garments — coats, shirts, and slacks suitable for the workplace, not the gym. They restore the image his grandmother’s hoodie had erased. In offering these, Joo Jaekyung is not only dressing him but reframing his social identity: from dependent to equal, from housebound caretaker to visible professional. This means that they are bringing him into the adult world. Yet this also creates a paradox — wearing such refined clothes will attract attention, making it impossible for Kim Dan to “stay in the background.” (chapter 80) They will incite him to voice more his thoughts, to become stronger as a responsible physical therapist. The wardrobe, like a mirror, forces him into presence. This means that he is losing his identity as “ghost”, which was how the halmoni was perceived by the athlete. (chapter 22)

Symbolically, the location intensifies the gesture: the clothes are placed inside the champion’s own wardrobe. (chapter 80) The two now share a domestic and symbolic space. What once separated their worlds — fame, class, gendered roles — begins to dissolve thread by thread. The actor Choi Heesung’s remark, that gifts can “bring people closer,” (chapter 30) becomes unexpectedly true here. The wardrobe bridges the distance that the grandmother’s gifts had always created.

When the champion remarks, (chapter 80) he implies that these items would just go to waste. Therefore he completes the reversal. Waste, once the grandmother’s greatest fear, becomes the vehicle of grace. By claiming the clothes are “leftovers,” he removes their monetary and moral value; they are no longer costly. In accepting them, Kim Dan does not incur debt — he prevents waste. (chapter 80) This is why his hesitant and embarrassed gratitude, framed against a background of dissolving gray waves, feels so transformative. The air behind him ripples as if washing away the residue of his old faith.

The striped blue-and-white shirt he finally chooses carries its own quiet symbolism. (chapter 80) Yet unlike gray — the color of fusion and loss of identity — these shades remain distinct. They do not blend but alternate, acknowledging the coexistence of two identities: the doctor and the man, the caregiver and the self. In contrast to the grandmother’s world, where love meant absorption and sameness, Joo Jaekyung’s gesture affirms difference. The champion does not swallow him; he gives him space.

At the same time, the stripes hint at the complexity of Kim Dan’s inner life. Beneath his apparent passivity lies rhythm, variation, and resilience — qualities long suppressed by duty and guilt. The pattern becomes a visual metaphor for the layered texture of his heart.

By filling the wardrobe with clothes of different colors, the champion quite literally brings light and time back into Kim Dan’s life. The new hues break the monotony of gray (chapter 80); they mark the passing of days, the return of seasons, the rediscovery that not every morning has to look the same. Variety itself becomes a form of freedom. When the wolf once complained that all his shirts looked identical, he was unknowingly naming what both of them lacked: differentiation, spontaneity, change. Through this act, he restores color not only to the doctor’s wardrobe but to his emotional world — a quiet resurrection through fabric.

Finally, the celebrity’s next gesture — teaching him how to swim — extends this transformation. If the grandmother’s graduation gift (the hoodie) kept him grounded and homebound, neglecting his future and career, the champion’s “lesson” propels him toward movement and autonomy. (chapter 80) Swimming means survival without the shore; it is the art of staying afloat without a hand to hold. In this sense, Joo Jaekyung’s care points forward, not backward. He offers not protection but potential, not memory but future.

The wardrobe, then, is not a storage space but a threshold — between debt and desire, between inherited caution and chosen freedom. And now, you comprehend why the doctor chose to seek refuge and support, when he feared to sink. (chapter 80) The “hamster” had instinctively turned to the only person who had ever offered him help without cost.

In reaching for the champion, he does not regress into dependence; he reaches toward a new form of trust, one that no longer confuses care with control. To let himself be held is not to return to childhood, but to unlearn fear. The act of seeking support becomes the first stroke of a new swimmer — hesitant, but free.

This scene also recalls the image of the Korean dragon and its yeouiju — the luminous, wish-granting jewel said to contain both wisdom and life energy. The dragon’s power is not innate; it is completed and elevated by the jewel. Without the yeouiju, it cannot ascend to the heavens — strength without meaning, force without direction.

When Kim Dan finally pulls Joo Jaekyung into his arms (chapter 80), the myth reverses. The dragon—once feared, untouchable, wrapped in rage and solitude—is suddenly embraced by the very being he once believed too fragile for his world. The power dynamic inverts: the human shelters the beast.

In that gesture, the legend of the Korean dragon and its yeouiju gains a new form. The jewel is no longer an external object of desire, but a state of being—mutual recognition. By holding the dragon, Kim Dan becomes the hand that completes the circle, allowing power to flow again. The yeouiju exists between them, not in either of them: it is the bond itself.

For the champion, who has long carried the invisible scar of disgust— (chapter 75) —this embrace is nothing short of salvation. The man who once fought to wash off shame through endless training now finds himself accepted in his unguarded state. He doesn’t need to mask his trauma with perfume (chapter 75), the imagined smell, or cleanse his skin of battle; he is held and, therefore, purified. Through Dan’s arms, he rediscovers his value and humanity—the dragon touched and not destroyed. He is worth of being embraced, even if he is already so old!

This reversal has immense symbolic power. The yeouiju is no longer something the dragon must seize; it is something that recognizes him back. (chapter 80) When Kim Dan holds him, the light of that jewel shines from within the dragon himself. Power and tenderness, once enemies, coexist in the same body.

For Kim Dan, this act also signals a new allegiance. He is no longer in service of duty or debt—no longer the caretaker bound to an old creed of sacrifice. By choosing to embrace Joo Jaekyung, he chooses his friend, not his “master.” He decides who is worthy of his trust, and in doing so, reclaims his agency.

The dragon, embraced rather than worshiped, rises stronger. The yeouiju—the bond, the shared heartbeat—no longer lies at the peak of a mythic mountain but glows quietly between two exhausted men who have stopped running from touch.

The gray world — the realm of thrift, debt, and book-keeping — dissolves into color and movement. Blue and white ripple through the water, reflecting not fusion but harmony. For the first time, love does not demand payment; it breathes.

Arc 8 – The point of no return

The shape of the 8 itself evokes both the infinity loop and the closed circuit: two halves endlessly reflecting each other, each incomplete without the other’s motion. It is the symbol of reciprocity, but also of a threshold — the moment when balance can no longer be postponed. Once complete, the loop allows no intrusion — it admits no third. The number’s symmetry carries both union and exclusion: whatever falls outside its rhythm disappears.

This is the geometry of Jinx’s emotional world in Arc 8. The loop that once included a third observer — the grandmother’s watchful eye, the manager’s interference, the actor’s rivalry and resent — now folds inward, leaving no aperture for control. The form itself performs the story’s evolution: dependency becomes reciprocity; triangulation dissolves into dual motion. And now, you comprehend why Mingwa included a new outburst of the wolf’s jealousy. (chapter 79) This is one part of the new circle. Jealousy is the residue of imbalance — the echo of the 7 within the 8. In the numerology of Jinx, the 7-chapters, like for example episode 7 (chapter 7), episode 18, where the champion had sex because of this statement (chapter 18),episode 34 with Choi Heesung (chapter 34) or episode 52, where the former members of Team Black and expressed their disdain and jealousy toward the main lead (chapter 52)

But Arc 8 changes the equation. For the first time, both protagonists risk loss because they have something — and someone — to lose. The return of jealousy is therefore not regression but proof of attachment and the occasion to improve their personality (chapter 79), the final test before the circle closes for good.

Eight is the reversal digit, where hidden motives come to light and attachments are tested. Between 7 (chapter 47) and 8 lies that invisible hinge: the death of the old economy of love and the birth of a new one.

Thus, Arc 8 becomes the arena of triangular pressure. The grandmother’s possessive nostalgia (she sees herself as the mother, doc Dan as the boy and the champion as her surrogate husband) (chapter 78) mirrors Park Namwook’s managerial anxiety (chapter 61) and Heesung’s residual rivalry and resent. Each acts as a different face of control: the woman binds through guilt, the manager through hierarchy acting as the owner of the athlete’s time, the actor through charm and deceptions. Together they form the triad that tries to reopen the circle closed in the pool. Let’s not forget that the athlete chose to take a day off on his own accord (chapter 80), but he had just returned to the gym. It is no longer the same training and routine.

Park Namwook in particular represents the system that resists intimacy. His “interference” is not random but defensive: he fears that Jaekyung’s change and his attachment to the physical therapist (the promise to teach the doctor to swim implies that he will focus on other things than MMA) will unbalance the professional order. In the symbolic arithmetic of the story, he inherits the number 7 — the unstable, the one who can no longer maintain symmetry.

Jealousy, then, becomes not corruption but purification. It exposes what still belongs to duty and what belongs to choice. Through these frictions, Kim Dan is compelled to speak for himself, to claim the very agency his grandmother once withheld. It makes the protagonists to perceive people in a different light and move away from their self-loathing, passivity and silence.

When he does, the circle of the 8 stabilizes at last. The old triangle — grandmother, doctor, and debt — gives way to the new one: champion, doctor, and trust. In the Arc 8, the color gray finally meets its antidote: blue. 💙What was once the hue of exhaustion and suspended time becomes the pulse of renewal. The blue heart 💙, which first appeared in my earlier essay At the Crossroad, returns here as the emotional compass of both men.

In Jinx, the white heart with the gray hoodie belongs to the past — to the grandmother’s logic of duty, guilt, and caution. Blue, by contrast, is the color of water, movement, and breath. It signals the capacity to feel without measuring, to give without debt. When Kim Dan accepts the new clothes, he does not merely change garments; he crosses from the gray zone of survival into the blue realm of relation. His heart, long muted by obligation, begins to circulate again.

The blue heart marks this point of no return: once it beats, neither man can retreat into solitude. Its rhythm unites the wolf and the hamster in a shared tempo — one that excludes the third, but not the world. For the first time, affection no longer obeys the law of bookkeeping. It flows.

The ocean, once feared and distant, now extends inward, beating quietly beneath their joined silhouettes. The gray relic of the past lies folded away, and in its place, something transparent begins: a friendship that breathes like water — uncounted, unowned, and alive.

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: Kim Dan 🐹 on Thin Ice 🧊🥶

Introduction: The Return of the Smile

In the essay The Magic Of Numbers I established that Kim Dan’s number is 8. It is therefore no coincidence that the arc from chapter 80 to 89 should revolve around him—his body, his suffering, and ultimately his recovery. The number 8, often associated with balance, renewal, and continuity, here signals not only the doctor’s rebirth but also the gradual thawing of his frozen world. It marks the moment when the past can no longer remain buried, when the last remnants of family and unspoken pain begin to surface. The mystery behind this phone call will be soon revealed. (chapter 19)

But number 8 also carries the shape of infinity—two circles joined together, like mirrored reflections. That shape finds a narrative equivalent in the duality between chapter 26 and chapter 62, two episodes that mirror one another in tone and structure, each revolving around a match between the same pair of men, yet charged with opposite meanings.

In chapter 26, (chapter 26) the sparring between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan unfolds under the sign of fun and apparent joy, yet its origin lies in jealousy. The champion, unconsciously triggered by the doctor’s closeness with Potato (chapter 25), turns play into a contest—a way to reclaim attention. (chapter 25) The gym, usually a place of hierarchy, momentarily becomes a stage where both can laugh, but beneath that laughter runs an undercurrent of rivalry (with Potato). On the other hand, for the first time, the Manhwa allows both protagonists to exist outside the economy of debt and hierarchy. The gym, normally a place of discipline and work, transforms into a playground of laughter. The champion teases the doctor (chapter 26), and the latter, clumsy but determined, strikes back with surprising boldness. The crowd cheers, not for the fighter but for the therapist—the underdog, the one who usually stands in the shadow. The entire scene feels like a short-lived holiday, a suspension of order and pain. When Kim Dan smiles at the end of the match, the gesture radiates genuine lightness: he has momentarily escaped the burden of fear and experienced himself as a free, living body. (chapter 26) He believes he has accomplished something meaningful and feels, perhaps for the first time, proud of himself. He was taught that he could fight back and overcome his fear.

For Joo Jaekyung, that smile and the embrace are transformative — it increases his longing and jealousy. (chapter 26) He realizes that the hamster can beam at others, that such light has never been directed at him. In that instant, he no longer sees an employee but a companion whose gaze and embrace he covets, whose approval he unconsciously seeks.
The irony is that this entire moment of joy—cheered by the crowd and crowned by Dan’s smile—does not truly belong to either of them: it was sparked by insecurity and ends with displacement, since the prize is not for Dan but for Potato.
The apparent playfulness of chapter 26 thus conceals the second flicker of possessiveness, the growing not of harmony but of desire distorted by envy and insecurities. Under this new light, it dawned on me why the athlete came to accept the day-off shortly after. That way, he could get the doctor’s attention exclusively. The sparring also lets transpire the lack of reflection and communication between the two protagonists: both act on impulse, guided by prejudice and unconscious desire rather than understanding. Under this perspective, it becomes comprehensible why such a day was not renewed.

Its negative reflection emerges in chapter 62. (chapter 62) The atmosphere is brighter in color but colder in tone. There, Joo Jaekyung got to experience how Kim Dan has lived all this time, helping others, making them happy with his assistance. (chapter 62) Here, the protagonist was thinking all the time of his loved one: (chapter 62) Indirectly, he hoped to get the doctor’s attention, but he failed. In fact, none of the wolf’s good actions got noticed by his fated partner. Interesting is that though the characters engage in acts of performance and service—helping others, pleasing strangers— their smiles have turned into masks. (chapter 62) (chapter 62) Where chapter 26 radiated spontaneity, this one reveals calculation and fatigue. (chapter 62) Kim Dan’s expression, caught between mockery and shame, no longer conveys joy but self-devaluation. When he tells Joo Jaekyung that it would be “better to sleep with you and make ten grand more,” his forced smile becomes an act of resistance, an ironic declaration of power from someone who feels powerless. He speaks like a man who has accepted his own degradation, using cynicism to mask humiliation and resent.

To conclude, in episode 62, the positions are reversed—Joo Jaekyung becomes the one giving and laboring, and Kim Dan the one silently “observing” the other. The wolf now experiences what the hamster has long endured: the exhaustion of constant care and absence of true recognition. What had once been play has become obligation. Even the visual composition reinforces the shift—the closed gym of chapter 26 (a controlled microcosm of emotion) (chapter 26) is replaced by the open, sunlit town of chapter 62 (chapter 62), where exposure to others leaves both men strangely isolated. The happiness of the crowd no longer unites; it separates. The champion’s outfit, ridiculous and domestic (chapter 62), underlines this reversal: he has become what the doctor used to be—the invisible worker behind others’ comfort. It is in this time that he first feels something he cannot name—Kim Dan’s coldness. (chapter 62) which is actually his true nature. I will elaborate more further below. For the first time, the wolf looks at his companion and senses distance instead of warmth, as though the man he once touched so easily has withdrawn behind glass. His thought—“Has he always been this cold?”—marks the beginning of introspection, the moment when perception replaces instinct.

This opposition between the lightness of 26 and the heaviness of 62 charts their evolution from instinctive joy to emotional paralysis. It also prepares the ground for chapter 80, which opens under the sign of thin ice. The phrase crystallizes all that has been building: the recognition of distance, the fragility of contact, and the dawning understanding that what lies frozen between them is not hostility—but pain. (chapter 80) To “walk on thin ice” is to approach him gently, without force—a lesson the champion must learn if he wishes to thaw what has been frozen by years of duty and self-denial.

The presence of number 8 reinforces this cyclical motion. Its shape—two mirrored loops—suggests both reflection and reunion. The same way the sparring and seaside episodes mirror each other, the coming arc (80–89) promises to close the loop while opening a new beginning. In the first loop, Kim Dan smiled for the first time; in the second, he must learn to smile again, but this time from within. Likewise, Joo Jaekyung must learn to elicit that smile not through force or gifts, but through fun, patience, attention, and warmth. If the earlier arcs taught him that sex is not intimacy, the “thin ice” chapter teaches him that care is not control. (chapter 80) Hence he made this mistake: he threw the doctor’s clothes without the owner’s consent.

When chapter 80 was released, many readers described their relationship as a slow burn. Yet the expression misleads: to burn implies fire, but the episode’s dominant color is blue (chapter 80) (chapter 80), not red. The atmosphere is fluid, reflective, submerged. Water—not flame—governs this new stage. What we witness is not combustion but fusion—ice meeting water, solid meeting liquid, two states of the same element touching at last. Ice does not just melt under fire; but also in the presence of water. It softens when it recognizes itself in another form. In that sense, Joo Jaekyung’s tenderness doesn’t heat Kim Dan—it mirrors him. The thaw begins not through passion, but through likeness, through quiet recognition. This signifies that Joo Jaekyung is on his way to discover their similarities: they both suffered from bullying and abandonment issues and they love each other.

This new fluidity finds its first visual expression in their smiles. When Kim Dan floats in the pool, smiling (chapter 80) —his joy is spontaneous, detached from duty, born from play rather than service. It is his first genuine smile since the sparring match in chapter 26, but this time it arises not from competition, only from freedom. In the same chapter, Joo Jaekyung’s grin (chapter 80) at the board game table mirrors that moment: his smile is light, childlike, uncontaminated by dominance. Yet, tellingly, they do not smile together. Each glows in isolation, unaware of the other’s joy. Doc Dan has not realized it yet: he is the wolf’s source of happiness, he is the only one who can make him laugh and smile. (chapter 27) Thus I came to the following deduction. This is the emotional geometry of the arc 80–89: two smiles moving toward synchrony, two currents approaching convergence. Both need to experience that they make each other happy. Kim Dan on Thin Ice thus begins where the infinite loop of 8 converges—between warmth and coldness, joy and fatigue, play and labor. It is here, in this fragile equilibrium—where ice and water finally coexist—that both men begin, at last, to thaw. And the latter implies emancipation

The Gaze That Heals

While Jinx-philes were moved by the final scene (chapter 80), I have to admit that my favorite part was this one (chapter 80), as it exposes the real metamorphosis from the “wolf”. The night Joo Jaekyung watches Kim Dan sleep is not erotic; it is revolutionary. For once, his desire gives way to perception and attentiveness. The fighter who has conquered bodies now studies one that is quietly losing its battle. The body before him is not the sculpted strength he knows, but a map of deprivation: protruding collarbones (chapter 80), visible neck tendons, the knobby finger joints and his stiff fingers resting on the blanket as if holding the body together. (chapter 80) The pale, bluish hue of the skin—half light, half illness—tells him what no words ever have.

He sees, with a clarity that frightens him, that Kim Dan’s suffering is written into every small detail: the cracked lip that never healed (chapter 80), the faint opacity of the nails (chapter 80), the uneven pulse beneath thin skin. The dark circles under the eyes look like bruises from sleeplessness and neglect. (chapter 80) In the faint parting of the mouth he sees not seduction, but exhaustion—a man so depleted that even rest demands effort. (chapter 80) Each sign carries both a clinical and emotional meaning: anemia, malnutrition, overwork… but also silence, restriction, and the long habit of disappearing.

For the first time, the star understands that Kim Dan’s “coldness” is not rejection—it is the surface of survival. Like ice, it protects what lies beneath. The doctor’s body is a frozen landscape, and the champion feels its fragility in his own chest. He recognizes the paradox: endurance has become danger. Kim Dan lives, but on “thin ice,” sustained only by stillness, by refusing to move too fast or feel too deeply. From this recognition (“Kim Dan is a mess”) comes a subtle but decisive change: (chapter 80) he begins to treat rest not as weakness, but as reverence. (chapter 13) The fighter who once mocked stillness as laziness now finds meaning in it.

This realization quietly rewrites his routine. The very next day, he takes a day off (chapter 80) — not from exhaustion, but from understanding. The rhythm of his life starts to synchronize with the doctor’s vulnerability. Time, once his most tightly guarded possession, now bends around another person’s needs. Without noticing, he has allowed Kim Dan to become the owner of his hours — a quiet dethronement that signals love in its earliest, purest form. Moreover, Jinx-philes should realize that the moment the star made this decision, (chapter 80), it signifies that he will have to dedicate his time to the physical therapist! Hence his routine and training could get affected, just like their weekends. (chapter 78)

The contrast to their first nights together could not be sharper. Back then, he had stood over the bed with amused irony (chapter 13) Now, the same posture carries care instead of mockery. The body he once saw as an object of conquest has become a presence that dictates the pace of his own life. Watching over him no longer feels like indulgence; it feels necessary. Even his position in the room betrays the transformation.
In the beginning, he stood at the foot of the bed, gazing down—a posture of control, evaluation, and reproach. The man towering over the bed was a passive bystander, not a participant. But now, in episode 80, he takes a place by Kim Dan’s side. (chapter 80) The shift is quiet but momentous: he no longer guards from afar, he keeps vigil.

Standing beside the bed means stepping into the space once occupied by the caregiver (chapter 80) —the doctor (chapter 13), the family member (chapter 56), the one who stays close enough to touch if needed. (chapter 80) Without realizing it,the athlete has inherited that role. His nearness is no longer intrusive but protective. He has crossed the invisible threshold that separates obligation from affection. The fighter who once stood as an outsider in the doctor’s life now finds himself within its most intimate circle.

This spatial change mirrors his emotional movement: from detachment to empathy, from possession to presence. The body language of care replaces the body language of power. In sitting beside Kim Dan rather than standing above him, Joo Jaekyung becomes not the master of another’s body but the keeper of another’s rest.

Interesting is that though he didn’t sleep much, he doesn’t look exhausted and irritated. He seems serene and sharp. (chapter 80) Compare his facial expression to the hamster’s before their first day off together. (chapter 27) That way, Mingwa can outline the champion’s confidence and that the one who needed the rest is the physical therapist and not the champion.

The wolf’s gaze becomes the only warmth in the room. He does not reach out (chapter 80), though every muscle in his body aches to hold the hand (chapter 80) or touch the cracked lip (chapter 80), to convey his feelings. His affection, however, means nothing to the physical therapist’s rest and health. The doctor’s body, frail and still, does not respond to care or desire; it demands only caring silence. In that quiet, Jaekyung learns the hardest lesson of love: that sometimes the truest act of tenderness is restraint.

This moment also reveals something else—the doctor has truly become the apple of the wolf’s eye, the new version of this night. (chapter 69) Every flicker of light falls through The Emperor’s gaze and lands on Kim Dan’s form, transforming weariness into something sacred. (chapter 80) The fighter who once devoured the world with his eyes now looks with respect and affection. For the first time, his vision is not about conquest but about keeping another safe within its circle. His restriction is new. It is care learned through self-control, tenderness born from awe. His breath slows; his eyes soften. The man who once equated intimacy with possession now discovers that looking—truly looking—is the most intimate act of all.

The blue – lavender light surrounding them reinforces the metaphor. It is the color of water and sleep, of cold surfaces beginning to thaw. Kim Dan lies motionless, preserved like something precious yet endangered. The champion’s reflection flickers faintly in his eyes, merging the observer and the observed. For a heartbeat, they exist in a fragile equilibrium: one watching, one resting—both suspended between warmth and coldness, touch and distance.

This scene echoes the earlier moment of thin ice. (chapter 80) The same expression that once described Kim Dan’s emotional isolation now describes the celebrity’s transformation. His vision becomes both diagnosis and confession: he is seeing the cost of the doctor’s gentleness—and his own role in it. But unlike before, he does not panic. His calmness is the proof of change. The fighter who once solved everything through haste and impulvisity now heals through stillness and meditation.

And beneath that calmness, desire hums—not lust, but devotion and gentleness. The longing to touch remains, but it is tempered by something holier: the wish not to harm what is fragile. (chapter 80) His eyes linger on the hand, the mouth, the neck, the pulse, as if memorizing every scar. The desire to kiss or caress or hold becomes indistinguishable from the desire to protect. Watching thus becomes loving.

However, seeing and knowing are not enough. Observation without action leaves the sportsman powerless, and he senses this instinctively. Therefore he decides to become proactive. (chapter 80) This reminded me of his earlier words (chapter 68) in the bathtub (chapter 68) —“I’ll keep him right here in the palm of my hand”—echo now with quiet irony. To hold someone in one’s hand is, paradoxically, to immobilize them; it grants possession but denies agency. The same gesture that promises safety also enacts paralysis. His possessiveness, once mistaken for protection, now appears as helplessness.

In episode 68, the champion’s vow came from the fear of loss: he wanted to keep Kim Dan close, even “in his sorry state.” Yet that very desire to hold became a form of harm, preventing the other from moving, breathing, or healing. At the same time, it implies a certain arrogance, as he saw himself as superior. The scene at the dock taught him two important life lessons: his ignorance and his powerlessness. Therefore it is no coincidence that the couple remained distant despite the athlete’s resolution and desire. (chapter 80) Now, standing beside the bed, the MMA fighter begins to understand the futility of that grasp. He cannot hold Kim Dan; he can only stay by his side and help him to become stronger. (chapter 80) Thus he teaches him swimming. This gesture is not trivial: it marks the moment when care turns into collaboration and liberation, when watching becomes doing.

The champion is now surpassing the halmoni, who is characterized by helplessness and passivity. (chapter 78) She preferred sending her grandson away rather than witnessing his pain, and she delegated all responsibility to Joo Jaekyung and the doctors. Jaekyung, in contrast, remains. (chapter 80) He refuses to look away. His decision to act—to adjust his own schedule, to become the one who teaches and supports—stands as a quiet correction of the grandmother’s withdrawal. Where she turned distance into protection, he transforms proximity into healing.

What Joo Jaekyung experiences that night is not pity, but awakening and true love. The sight of Kim Dan’s frailty lifts the last veil between body and soul. The ice has not yet melted, but beneath it, water is stirring.

The Body on Thin Ice

The hamster’s sleeping posture reinforces the entire metaphor of fragility and restriction. (chapter 80) He lies flat, one hand pressed lightly over his abdomen, as if to hold himself together. The gesture reads as instinctive self-protection — the body sheltering its core. His other arm stretches outward, straight and tense, a symbolic bridge that never reaches. Even at rest, he remains poised between holding and fleeing.

The straightened legs and smooth blanket line betray control rather than rest. The bed looks like a stage where sleep must be performed properly — cautious, quiet, unwrinkled. His facial muscles and neck stay taut; his breathing shallow. It’s the posture of someone who fears danger and never truly stops bracing for impact.

Like Jinx-lovers might have noted, this state of vigilance doesn’t end when he wakes. Kim Dan often jolts (chapter 80) at his fated partner’s approach, flinching when a hand brushes too near and makes a loud sound (chapter 79), (chapter 80) shrinking back when confronted. The body remembers the threat long after the mind tries to forget. (chapter 79) He lives suspended between two survival reflexes: freezing or fleeing. Since the contract binds him to stay, he cannot physically run away; therefore, his body freezes instead. It is his way of obeying while still protecting himself. Exhaustion becomes his armor. And now, you comprehend why the celebrity could detect the coldness in the “hamster” in front of the hospice. (chapter 62) He had sensed that the physical therapist was just surviving. On the other hand, he had perceived a glimpse of the hamster’s true nature. Helping others had never been an act of love, rather the expression of belonging and low self-esteem. In reality, he was quite distant to people. Hence he never meddled with the nurses at the Light of Hope.

Yet, in chapter 79, the polarity inverted. The coldness that once protected Jaekyung — the cold gaze meant to conceal jealousy and insecurities (chapter 79) — now turned outward and wounded the one he wished to protect. (chapter 79) That icy look became a mirror: it froze Kim Dan’s small confidence, reinforcing his belief that he would always displease or fail others. Since his return to the gym, the doctor feared the emperor’s next outburst, walking on eggshells and suppressing every impulse to speak or move freely. (chapter 79) Thus he clinched onto routine to maintain a normal relationship. But once the champion voiced his dissatisfaction (masking his jealousy), the light in the doctor’s gaze vanished. (chapter 79)

This explains why during his dissociative state/sleep walking, he almost fell from the railing. (chapter 79) His unconscious was telling him to flee, as he feared the athlete. To conclude, he was always one step away from collapse. In symbolic terms, he had become ice itself — air and water solidified, transparent yet untouchable. Keep in mind that according to me, the clouds embody the physical therapist. (chapter 38) Born on December 26th, his very birthday ties him to winter, to the paradox of beauty that burns when touched. That’s why I can’t help myself thinking that the physical therapist is actually embodied by the snow. Ice and snow preserve, but they also isolate.

The traces of ice and snow had already been quietly planted before this moment. When the dark-haired little boy stood outside calling his mother in chapter 72 (chapter 72), snow was falling — a silent mirror of his loneliness, the frozen residue of a home that no longer existed. Later, in chapter 77, the motif returned as ice cream (chapter 77): a sweet that melts too quickly to be shared. Neither man truly appreciated it; both were too absorbed in their own thoughts to enjoy the fleeting pleasure. These missed opportunities — to taste, to feel, to be present — form the emotional prelude to the “thin ice” arc.

Now, by recognizing the frost in Kim Dan — his stillness, his cold hands, his distance — Jaekyung stars to grasp the nature of warmth itself. What he once read as indifference, he now perceives as endurance. The discovery transforms him: he starts to blush not out of victory or drunkenness, but out of attraction. (chapter 80) His smile is still too attached to victory. (chapter 80) His decision to teach Kim Dan how to swim grows naturally from this awakening. It’s no longer about strength or instruction, but about movement, fluidity, and shared rhythm — the passage from rigidity (ice) to flow (water), from surviving to living.

In this logic, Kim Dan becomes snow itself — transparent, pure, and painfully transient. Snow is beautiful precisely because it melts; it asks to be held gently, without possession. The author’s gradual introduction of ice, snow, and water thus maps the emotional chemistry between them. Ice was their misunderstanding, snow their revelation, and water will be their reconciliation.

The icy phase reached its climax during the scene in chapters 63–64, when the champion (chapter 63), desperate to restore closeness, mistook passion and pleasure (chapter 63) for repair. Believing that physical heat could melt emotional frost (chapter 64), he tried to burn away the distance through souvenirs (evoking the night in the States) and desire. Yet the more he tried to ignite fire, the more he fed the cold. (chapter 64) The physical act, rather than fusing them, exposed the truth he had refused to see — that his partner was already freezing from within. On the other hand, during this night, the athlete used “self-control” for the first time, his roughness in bed started vanishing. (chapter 64) The wolf’s attempt to “burn the bridge” between them became the very thing that broke it. His flame met ice (chapter 64), and the result was not warmth but steam — a brief illusion of intimacy that vanished as soon as Kim Dan pulled away. His rejection wasn’t cruelty but a cry of despair, disillusion and exhaustion (chapter 64): a body too cold to burn, a heart too tired to love and fight.

That night, Jaekyung finally learned that fire alone cannot sustain love. Real warmth demands attention, genuine selflessness, not possession. Only by recognizing Kim Dan’s fragility — his snow-like transparency, his quiet endurance — can he begin to love without wounding.

Through the act of teaching and learning to swim, Jaekyung will learn what he never knew before: that love isn’t about breaking or conquering (chapter 80), but about melting together, letting warmth and cold coexist without annihilating each other. To melt together does not mean to dissolve into sameness, but to trust that proximity will not destroy one’s shape. True intimacy begins when both accept that they can share warmth without losing form — when fire believes it can touch ice without turning it to steam, and ice trusts it can meet fire without vanishing.

This trust, fragile yet luminous, marks the next phase of their journey. For the first time, neither must perform strength or endurance. They can simply exist side by side — water meeting water — each reflecting the other’s light.

And ice burns — that is the cruel secret. (chapter 61) Touch it bare-handed, and you feel both heat and pain. The same holds true for Kim Dan’s presence: those who reach for him too quickly end up wounding both him and themselves. The sportsman’s early attempts at care followed that pattern — too forceful, too immediate, leaving frostbite where he intended warmth. (chapter 64)

What’s most tragic is that neither man understood this dynamic. The star’s coldness was not cruelty (chapter 79) but anxiety — fear of losing control, of not being seen (chapter 79), of not getting the doctor’s affection. Kim Dan’s coldness was not real rejection (chapter 80) but terror — the instinct to flee before being hurt again. Both used frost as armor, and both mistook it for strength and protection.

The subtle visual cue comes in the unopened board game labeled Ice Breaker (chapter 80). (chapter 80) They never played it — and that is no accident. The title encapsulates the temptation Jaekyung must resist: to treat intimacy as a contest, to imagine that trust can be won through tactics or timing. But hearts do not yield to strategies. The only way to melt the ice is not by “breaking” it, but by warming it, patiently, sincerely.

In other words, the champion must unlearn the fighter’s logic — victory, dominance, control — and replace it with what he has never trained for: honesty and vulnerability. Only by lowering his guard, by divulging his own thoughts and emotions (like for example fear of loss), can he truly reach Kim Dan. Breaking the ice would have meant shattering what little trust existed between them. To conclude, the true task is not to break but to thaw: to melt the distance gradually, to approach without force. Their story is not about smashing barriers but about learning warmth, rhythm, and coexistence.

But in chapter 80, the dynamic begins to thaw. Jaekyung takes the day off — the first visible sign that he now aligns his rhythm with Kim Dan’s. Rest, once equated with laziness, becomes an act of respect and knowledge. The fighter who lived in perpetual heat learns the value of stillness, while the doctor frozen in vigilance learns, little by little, to breathe.

Opening the Wardrobe: The Champion’s First Unscripted Gesture

If the Ice Breaker game represents the failure of strategy, this scene (chapter 80) marks its opposite — a spontaneous act free of calculation. I am not here talking about the purchase of the clothes. When Jaekyung brings new clothes for Kim Dan and places them in his own wardrobe, he is doing something that escapes his usual logic of control. For once, he doesn’t command or anticipate; he simply gives.

At first glance, it looks like another display of wealth — replacing the doctor’s worn shirts with finer fabrics. But the gesture carries a deeper subtext. By hanging the clothes in his closet, the champion symbolically opens the most private space of his home, the same place where he once left the birthday card and key chain. (chapter 66) And this is something the physical therapist could notice, if he enters the room again and pays more attention to his surroundings. This is not about ownership but about inclusion: an unspoken invitation to share a part of himself.

The humor of the series already hinted at this evolution back in chapter 30, when Jaekyung teased the blushing doctor(chapter 30). Even in that comic panel, the imbalance between physical familiarity and emotional distance was evident. Kim Dan’s embarrassment stood for boundaries not yet earned, and Jaekyung’s casual tone for a love not yet understood.

In that moment, (chapter 80) the room becomes more than a storage space — it becomes a threshold. Without realizing it, the wolf allows Kim Dan to enter his personal orbit, to dress and undress within the same walls, to coexist without performance. This is the opposite of strategy; it’s the vulnerability of someone who, for the first time, lowers his guard without noticing.

Through this gesture, Jaekyung experiences that love is not built by “winning over” but by making room. Now, by giving the doctor space in his closet, Jaekyung begins to earn what he once took for granted. Sharing the same room no longer means exposure or domination, but coexistence. Even if they never see each other naked again, Kim Dan can slowly grow accustomed to the champion’s presence — to exist beside him without fear.

In other words, the wardrobe becomes a new kind of training ground: not for fighting, but for trust. Besides, he practices something new — spontaneous care — the kind that arises not from guilt or desire, but from trust.

Mr. Mistake

Before he could learn to warm, Joo Jaekyung had to learn to err. (chapter 80) His first instinct, even when it came from care, was always control. In earlier days, he wanted Kim Dan within reach, in his line of sight — “even in his sorry state.” (chapter 68) That line, half tender and half possessive, reveals the paradox of his love: he equates nearness with protection, yet that same nearness suffocates. Keeping Kim Dan “in the palm of his hand” expresses both care and fear — the terror of losing what he cannot name.

When we see him later, in chapter 80, standing before the wardrobe with his eyes closed, (chapter 80) this gesture repeats the same pattern under a softer guise. Believing he is helping, he decides to discard the gray hoodie — the very object tied to Kim Dan’s past and his grandmother. (chapter 80) His closed eyes are telling: he acts without seeing. The intention is love; the effect is violation. By trying to cleanse Kim Dan’s life of its remnants, he unconsciously repeats the violence of erasure that the doctor has always endured. Keep in mind that the doctor’s teddy bear vanished. (chapter 47) One might say that he no longer needed it, yet this point could be refuted, if it was a present from the parents. Throwing it away is like erasing their existence and affection.

And yet, the champion’s mistake is necessary. It becomes the hinge between old and new love. For the first time, the champion feels the immediate consequence of his actions: Kim Dan’s resistance, his cry of protest, his refusal to be overwritten. (chapter 80) The scene is small but seismic. The camera places Jaekyung slightly behind, his fists curled and his shoulders tense — an instinctive gesture of self-restraint rather than dominance. He is no longer the one towering above, demanding or explaining; he is waiting, watching, enduring the discomfort of having gone too far. His silence here is not indifference but humility — the silence of someone learning, painfully, what boundaries mean.

In this still moment, the main lead looks less like a fighter and more like a chastened pupil. He follows the doctor like a puppy that has just realized his wrongdoing. We could compare his action to Boksoon and her puppies hiding the “shoes” from the landlord and doc Dan. (chapter 70) The athlete’s posture (chapter 80) that once signified control now reads as submission, but also as attention — he is, for once, truly focused on the other’s feelings instead of his own intentions.

This visual shift — from dominance to attentiveness — signals the slow birth of empathy. Love ceases to be possession and becomes recognition. What once would have provoked anger or dominance instead elicits reflection. The wolf no longer bites back; he listens. Through this failure, he begins to grasp the rhythm of mutual existence — one that requires missteps to create harmony. At the same time, this chapter announces the courting from the athlete. He will do anything to win doc Dan’s heart. But for that, he needs to capture his “gaze”. (chapter 80)

Calling him “Mr. Mistake” is not reproach but recognition. Each error brings him closer to awareness, to balance and improve himself. His earlier attempts to help — feeding (chapter 79), dressing, gifting (chapter 80) — were gestures of power. Now, through trial and correction, they evolve into gestures of reciprocity. Besides, to err is human. In learning how to respect and help, he learns how to love.

The irony is that his compassion for Kim Dan simultaneously becomes self-care. (chapter 80) By tending to another’s exhaustion, he faces his own. Each regret (chapter 79), each small act of patience, rewires the fighter’s inner world. If he controls his temper, then he might get closer to his fated companion. He begins to experience calm where there once was only anger or reaction. The man who lived on adrenaline now practices gentleness as a new form of endurance.

These “mistakes” form the second loop of the number 8 — the mirror that completes the first circle. If the earlier arc was defined by desire and misunderstanding, this new one is shaped by humility and correction. Every misstep is part of the dance toward balance, each error a necessary thawing of old reflexes. Through Kim Dan, the champion learns that healing, like love, is never achieved through perfection but through rhythm — through falling out of sync and learning, again and again, to move together.

The Body That Hurts

Kim Dan’s body has always been the battlefield of others’ desires. Even the tenderness he received from his grandmother was tied to expectations of endurance. In the hospital scene, she admires Jaekyung’s physique:
(chapter 21) Behind the warmth of her words lies a quiet wound: she loves her grandson, but she wishes him to be different — stronger, healthier, easier to care for. In his eyes, it’s an unreliable, burdensome shell — a vessel of weakness and sickness. Every protruding collarbone, every cracked lip or dark circle testifies to a deeper wound: the conviction that he is unworthy of care.

This single wish defines his lifelong struggle. He learns that to be loved, he must not burden anyone; to deserve affection, he must be self-sufficient. Strength becomes a moral duty, not a source of pride. The body, instead of being a home, becomes a site of constant correction — something to manage, hide, or silence.

So when his body weakens, he experiences it as failure. Every illness, every bruise, every shiver feels like proof that he is disappointing her again. His need to be strong “for her” transforms into self-punishment — the relentless drive to work, to endure, to never rest. He strives to cause less trouble, to take on more responsibility, to disappear behind service.

Yet the façade of dutiful obedience couldn’t hold forever. As the grandmother herself admits later, (chapter 65) These vices, which she lists as disappointments (chapter 65) are in fact the boy’s first attempts at self-assertion. In a life where every decision has been dictated by duty, poverty, and responsibility, destroying his own body becomes the only act that truly belongs to him. Each cigarette, each drink, is a tiny rebellion — a momentary claim over flesh that has always served others.

Ironically, this rebellion mirrors the very logic he inherited: he still treats his body as an object of control, only now he is the one inflicting harm. What looks like defiance is, in truth, despair dressed as freedom. It’s his way of saying, “If I can’t be loved through this body, at least I can decide what happens to it.”

Thus, long before Jaekyung ever entered the picture, Kim Dan had already split from himself. His body became both prison and protest, both burden and battlefield. So when he later tells Jaekyung in chapter 62, (chapter 62) the weight of that sentence stretches far beyond the bedroom. It carries the residue of every moral, familial, and physical contract that has reduced him to flesh. What the champion hears as accusation is, at its core, a confession of alienation — the echo of a man who has never learned to live inside himself. It’s not only a reproach but a confession. He hates his body because it has become the medium through which he is used, never loved.

This hatred turns cyclical: because he feels unloved, he neglects his body — and because his body weakens, he feels even less worthy of love. (chapter 80) His exhaustion, malnutrition, and chronic tension are not random; they are the physical imprint of a soul that punishes itself. Hurting his body becomes a form of control, a way to pre-empt rejection: “If I break myself first, no one else can hurt me.” And now, my avid readers can sense the hidden symmetry between the two men. Both have used their bodies as instruments of punishment — only in opposite directions.
For Kim Dan, the body collapses under visible exhaustion: pallor, thin hands, terrible nails, the fainting spells that betray a life of deprivation. For Joo Jaekyung, the punishment hides behind power, buried beneath muscle and bravado. His suffering is internal, detectable only through the cold precision of medical imaging — the X-ray that exposes the shoulder strain, the unseen stress beneath the skin. (chapter 27)

The scan becomes the counterpart to Kim Dan’s visible wounds: one man bleeds or bruises where everyone can see (chapter 61), the other where no one looks. Yet, the attitude of people is the same: no one pays attention to them. Both inhabit bodies that have forgotten the difference between endurance and pain. Both mistake self-destruction for strength.

The doctor’s body breaks from overgiving; the fighter’s, from overexerting. Is it a coincidence that the athlete employed this idiom in order to describe his partner’s life? (chapter 80) Naturally, no. In truth, they are two sides of the same fracture — men who were never allowed to rest, to be weak, or to be cared for.

And perhaps this is why the night of chapter 80 matters so deeply. When Jaekyung stands beside Kim Dan’s bed and simply watches, he unconsciously sees his own reflection: a man trapped in survival mode, burning from the inside out.

This silent revelation recalls an earlier moment — that night in front of the hospital (chapter 18) when Kim Dan, bruised, had seized his hand and expressed his concerns. Back then, the gesture had confused the wolf. His hands were made to strike, to defend, to dominate — not to be pitied or protected. He had pulled away instinctively, unsettled by the tenderness and the huge sense of responsibility behind the question. He felt criticized, as if his power was questioned.

Now, in the stillness of the room, he finally grasps its meaning. (chapter 80) Kim Dan wasn’t questioning his strength; he was acknowledging his humanity. He had seen the fighter’s hands not as weapons but as part of a fragile whole — hands that could bleed, hands that could tremble.

That memory quietly flows into the pool scene, where everything changes.

The Body That Learns to Float

In the swimming pool, the same hands complete their transformation. (chapter 80) What began as misunderstanding in episode 1, (chapter 1) and was maintained through the awkward hospital encounter in episode 18, now evolves into dialogue and genuine comprehension. In the beginning, Kim Dan’s touch had been accidental and defensive—a misreading of bodily proximity. When he grabbed the fighter in episode 1, he believed he had crossed a forbidden line, that his action would be seen as insolence or violation. The fear and shame that followed transformed touch into a territory of silence and self-censorship.

Meanwhile, the same gesture had awakened something entirely different in the champion. As revealed later (chapter 56), he had interpreted that touch not as mistake or violation, but as a spark of invitation—proof that the “hamster” might want him after all. His own longing twisted the scene into a fantasy of desire, into a private “game” he wanted to continue in the bedroom. One misunderstanding gave birth to another. By episode 18, the same reflex persisted: he reached out again, asking if Jaekyung was hurt, his hand trembling with the same mixture of care and fear. Once more, touch was misread—offered as comfort, received as intrusion. Thus their relationship began under crossed signals: one moved out of survival, the other out of projection or the reverse. It is no coincidence that their relationship in season 1 was doomed to fail. They never communicated properly, as their perception was influenced by their past and surroundings.

Back then, (chapter 18) Kim Dan’s fingers clung to Jaekyung’s hand out of fear; now they athlete is the one holding them. This panel oozes trust and communication. (chapter 80) The reversal is profound. Outside the hospital, the healer had worried about the fighter’s body; inside the pool, the fighter encourages the physical therapist to trust his own body. He worries about the healer’s soul. The hand that was once proof of power now becomes a bridge of tenderness and reassurance.

The water amplifies this transformation. Around them, the surface quivers like living glass, reflecting their movements in waves of trembling light. It is as though the memory of ice — of distance, fragility, restraint — has melted into fluid contact. Jaekyung’s hands, once hardened by habit, move now with the rhythm of care. They guide, not grab; they support without enclosing. (chapter 80)

When he lets go (chapter 80), Kim Dan panics, convinced that release equals abandonment. (chapter 80) He freezes once again. Yet the water holds him; he reaches onto the champion again — and this time, the embrace stays. What makes this moment remarkable is that the pool is shallow. (chapter 80) Kim Dan could easily stand on his own, but fear has eclipsed reason. His instinct is not to trust his feet, not to fight the water, but to cling to the man before him. (chapter 80) This reveals his low self-esteem and trapped soul.

This difference from chapter 27 is crucial. Back then, in a similar pool scene, the fighter’s reaction was brusque and teasing (chapter 27) His words carried an assertion of superiority, a lack of understanding. But here, silence replaces mockery. (chapter 80) The wolf doesn’t laugh or pull away. (chapter 80) He simply lets himself be held. Why? It is because he is enjoying the moment. For the first time, the physical therapist sought his closeness. (chapter 80) And this has nothing to do with his money and the gifts. This gesture exposes that the hamster does trust the athlete. For me, his passivity is strongly linked to his longing. (chapter 80) He is enjoying the embrace.

Besides, that quiet acceptance reveals more tenderness than any declaration could. The wolf no longer demands, instructs, or tests. He waits. His passivity and silence are an invitation — an acknowledgment that the next move must come from the physical therapist himself. (chapter 80)

For the first time, the champion receives affection without controlling it. He becomes the one who is touched, not the one who takes. His body, usually the tool of dominance, now learns receptivity. And the doctor, trembling yet aware, learns that reaching out will no longer earn him rejection. The gesture that once triggered shame now becomes a wordless dialogue of consent and curiosity.

This reversal implies that their old misunderstanding will dissolve completely. How so? It is because Kim Dan has long internalized touch as a form of communication. Words often failed him, but the body never lied — every gesture became a sentence, every embrace a confession. And perhaps this is where la glace (chapter 16) —that deceptively simple French word—finds its power. It means “ice,” but also “mirror” and “window.” When the champion looks through Kim Dan’s glace (chapter 80), he sees not coldness but transparency: the reflection of a pure soul.

Interesting, too, is that eating glace never burns (chapter 77), unlike the touch of ice. It softens, sweetens, dissolves slowly on the tongue. Likewise, the heat between them no longer needs to scorch; it can melt. And yet, the kiss — once their most volatile exchange — has fallen silent. (chapter 64) Kim Dan had to bite his own lips to make Jaekyung stop, and neither has ever truly spoken of it. Yet, during the night, the athlete could see the remains of that cold war. (chapter 80) In episode 16, the doctor still wondered why the champion had kissed him so suddenly, (chapter 16), just as the champion has never confessed that it was his first kiss. Moreover, during their first day off together, Joo Jaekyung had also initiated a kiss and back then, the doctor never wondered why. (chapter 27) Both men have been staring into the same mirror without realizing that the reflection was shared. They love each other. Joo Jaekyung needs to ponder on the signification of a kiss (chapter 13) and why doc Dan made such a request. (chapter 15) The kiss is more than just fun and pleasure. It is the expression of “love”. And now, you comprehend why I am expecting a huge change in the next episode.

Now, in the water, that glace has turned fluid. The swimming pool becomes both mirror and window — a space where communication finally flows. The embrace could awaken the memory of that second kiss (chapter 28) and urge Kim Dan to ask, at last, the question that remained frozen between them. In doing so, he would not only reopen the conversation but also reclaim the meaning of touch itself: not as misunderstanding or survival, but as curiosity and love.

As a first conclusion, the swimming pool stands for reconnection, communication and as such the vanishing of misunderstandings. What had begun as mockery in episode 27 and confusion in episode 1 transforms into equilibrium in episode 80. The pool, barely chest-deep, becomes a symbolic threshold — a space where both rediscover that safety doesn’t depend on distance or depth, but on trust. (chapter 80) A space where both discovers love, attraction and joy.

Another important detail is the zoom on doc Dan’s feet. (chapter 80) And it comes with a small but crucial instruction. In that single phrase, the MMA fighter encourages Kim Dan to discover his own power and strength without overexercising. His feet, which were once symbolically trapped in the nightly ice, now press against the water with intent during the day. For the first time, his body obeys him, not fear. His movements are neither frantic nor helpless but self-regulated, gentle and alive. That’s why the main lead becomes happy for a moment. (chapter 80)

This moment stands in direct opposition to his sleepwalking — that eerie, unconscious wandering born of repression. (chapter 79) At night, his body moved without will; it was the echo of unspoken pain, a form of survival detached from self. In daylight, under Jaekyung’s watch, he begins to reclaim control. Day replaces night, consciousness replaces compulsion. What was once an expression of emotional paralysis becomes the choreography of renewal.

The difference is elemental. In the dark, his steps wavered because no one was there to steady him; in the water, he finds equilibrium through connection. Fear and joy coexist: he moves forward not because he is unafraid, but because he is finally accompanied. Besides, I am suspecting that his strong desire for an embrace (chapter 21) comes from the early loss of his mother.

His smile (chapter 80), radiant and unguarded, seals this metamorphosis. The body that once betrayed him becomes his ally again — a source of movement, breath, and meaning. The swimming lesson thus becomes a form of therapy: a slow rehabilitation of trust through touch, rhythm, and control. At the same time, should he notice the blushing or the loving gaze from his room mate (chapter 80), he could realize that he means more to the Emperor than he has ever imagined it. Here, I feel the need to add that the athlete’s jealousy and insecurities would vanish (chapter 79), if he knew that the doctor has already loved him for a long time.

Jaekyung learns that release can lead to attachment (chapter 80), for the strength lies in trusting someone. On the other hand, Kim Dan learns that release is not the same as collapse. Between their hands, between the measured strokes and the gentle restraint of “not too hard,” the past softens, and two wounded bodies rediscover what it means to be at home in themselves.

This swimming lesson represents his first step to treasure his own body. Thus it becomes a cure enacted through touch. Both men rediscover the body as a site of reciprocity rather than domination. Consequently, I deduce that the swimming lesson becomes more than physical training — it’s a quiet rite of passage. The pool, shallow yet infinite, mirrors the boundaries of trust itself: one must risk sinking to learn to float. (chapter 80) One must trust in his own body skills. Each gesture between them — the clasp, the release, the fright — traces a movement from fear toward self-possession and emancipation.

And perhaps this is the true meaning hidden beneath the scene’s surface: once Kim Dan can swim on his own, he will no longer fear being left behind. (chapter 80) To swim is to move through the unknown without a hand to hold (chapter 80), yet without panic. It is the opposite of his lifelong reflex to cling.

In learning to swim, he is not merely mastering a skill; he is unlearning abandonment. And now, my avid readers can grasp why he panicked quickly. (chapter 80) The water that once threatened to swallow him becomes his ally — fluid, embracing, and alive. When that day comes, when he can glide freely across its surface, it will mean that the boy who once feared drowning has finally learned how to live.

And then, the title finds its quiet resolution. Kim Dan on Thin Ice was never just about danger or fragility — it was about transformation. The ice that once confined him to stillness has melted into water, and the fear that once froze his body has become motion. Where there was trembling, there is now flow; where there was isolation, there is connection.

He no longer stands on thin ice — he moves through it, guided by the warmth that thawed him. (chapter 80) To swim is to live, but also to trust that even what melts beneath you can carry you forward. In this newfound balance between cold and warmth, fear and courage, Kim Dan finally steps — or swims — into his own life. This means, doc Dan is about to become the owner of his time again. (chapter 80)

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

Reading a Life Through Glimpses

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

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

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

The Ears: Traces of Unspoken Fights

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

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

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

The Face – From Full to Hollow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Boy in the Hoodie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Scar and the Tattoos: Carved Memory and Symbolic Death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion to Part 1: The Puzzle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Blue Gate 7-12

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

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

Father, Son and Ancestor: 33-3

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

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

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

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

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

Shin Okja’s Childhood Town and Numbers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The invisible chain between the door and the sharks

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

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

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

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

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

The Cabinet’s Silence: Misattributed Memory

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

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

The Wolf’s residence: 7-12

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

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

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

Conclusion: Opening the Right Door

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joo Jaekyung: When Strength Masks Submission

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Park Namwook: Delegating Blame to Escape Collapse

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Dan: From Submission to Resistance—and Back Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Grandmother: Avoidance Disguised as Selflessness

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

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

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

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

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

Survival Mode and Selective Laziness: The Blind Spots of Belief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As the article states,

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

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

The topic for the next essay is:

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

Jinx: The Truth 🕵🏼‍♂️ Behind The Oath Of Hippocrates ⚕️

The Hippocratic Oath, one of the oldest binding documents in history, originates from Ancient Greece and has long been regarded as the ethical foundation of Western medicine. Traditionally attributed to Hippocrates, often called the ‘Father of Medicine’, the oath originally included commitments to treat the sick to the best of one’s ability, to preserve patient confidentiality, and to pass on medical knowledge without demanding payment.

Over centuries, this oath has undergone numerous revisions to reflect the changing nature of medicine and ethics in society. While its core values—non-maleficence, beneficence, and fidelity—remain intact, modern versions are more secular and inclusive, often omitting archaic references to gods or master-apprentice hierarchies. The intention behind the oath has always been clear: to put the well-being of the patient first and to uphold the dignity and responsibility of the medical profession. These noble intentions raise important questions in today’s context. To what extent are they still fulfilled? Do contemporary medical professionals act in the spirit of this oath? And can structural realities—limited time, profit-driven care, burnout—undermine a physician’s ability to live up to its promise?

These critical perspectives crystallized while reading Chapter 67 of Jinx, and triggered a thought-provoking exchange between my friend @Milliformemes2024 and me. Our diverging interpretations of the sleep specialist in chapter 67 helped to shed new light on the enduring relevance—but also the limitations—of the Hippocratic tradition. What began as a discussion about a single consultation evolved into a broader reflection on symbolic language, institutional care, and the ethical cost of modern medicine. In truth, both perspectives hold merit. Our conversation mirrored a larger dialogue between Idealism and Reality: one of us defending the emotional depth and symbolic resonance in care, the other grounded in the necessity of boundaries and pragmatism. This essay unfolds in three parts: first, a symbolic analysis of the sleep specialist and the contrasting figure of Cheolmin; second, a comparison of institutional care and how financial motives shape medical ethics; and third, a visual exploration of hospitals and their architectural relationship to nature.

The Sleep Specialist and the Invisible Patient

Our discussion began with differing impressions of the sleep specialist in Chapter 67. My friend viewed her approach as textbook (chapter 67): the brief diagnosis, the recommendation for weekly visits, the specialist’s tentative attribution of Kim Dan’s condition to either alcohol or a possible psychological cause, emphasizing the need for continued observation and weekly visits before offering a definitive diagnosis —all standard responses. For her, this was a doctor following routine procedure without overstepping professional boundaries. However, I perceived her behavior very differently. I saw someone who remained emotionally detached and almost absent, reducing the complexity of Kim Dan’s condition to simplistic surface-level causes without genuine inquiry.

This divergence in opinion hinged on what each of us prioritized. My friend appreciated the clinical neutrality, interpreting it as a mark of competence. I, however, found it troubling—too minimal, the possible psychological cause was only mentioned. The symbolism in her appearance intensified my reaction. She is portrayed eyeless, a metaphor for her blindness—not in vision, but in perception. Her gaze is absent; her diagnostic process relies not on what she sees but on what others report, most notably, Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 67) Rather than forming an independent assessment, she accepts the narrative of a third party, which introduces bias and limits her understanding. One might argue about that, because she is looking at a paper, probably result of a blood test which seems to corroborate the guardian’s statement. Hence the sleep specialist concludes that Kim Dan is suffering from insomnia, alcohol addiction and sleepwalking. The problem is that his statement is based on external observations (halmoni and the landlord) and their limited knowledge. Moreover, Jinx-philes should keep in mind two important aspects: (chapter 61) The champion had been himself suffering from similar symptoms which could be seen as a projection on his loved one. Additionally, based on previous observations, I have interpreted Kim Dan’s nightly walks not merely as sleepwalking, but as dissociative episodes—likely triggered by overwhelming guilt, unresolved trauma, and a chronic sense of disconnection from his body and surroundings. But how could the champion know about this? He’s not a doctor himself. In order to have a more accurate picture of the whole situation, she should have talked to the patient himself. But by relying on papers and the guardian’s testimony, she not only distances herself from the patient physically and emotionally, but also delegates the responsibility of interpretation. She is using the eyes of others.

She wears an open white coat, (chapter 67) revealing a light green pullover layered over a white shirt—clothing that clearly belongs to her private wardrobe. This visual detail suggests a separation between her personal identity and her professional role. It’s as if donning the coat is enough to signal her authority, without requiring emotional engagement. The coat becomes a badge, not a commitment.

Yet one could argue that this very distinction is essential. The boundary between self and profession is what prevents the physician from becoming emotionally overwhelmed. Without such a barrier, the practitioner might absorb too much of the patient’s pain—leading not only to fatigue but to burnout. (chapter 57) Perhaps the doctor’s detachment is not indifference, but a survival mechanism in a healthcare system that demands efficiency over intimacy.

The white coat in this scene does not function as a symbol of care (chapter 67): it becomes an emblem of role-playing. What caught my attention is that she doesn’t directly address the patient, she doesn’t ask him any question either. She is not curious at all. If she had, she would have heard this: (chapter 67) indicating that his alcohol addiction is not the real reason for his insomnia. Then she fails to examine Kim Dan physically, the desk is between them. Therefore she can not detect his visible malnourishment.

But she couldn’t see it, as she relied on second-hand testimony (Joo Jaekyung’s words). The irony is that the latter failed to notice it. Each time he saw the doctor’s body, he got aroused. (chapter 62) Moreover, both the landlord and the grandmother never brought up this aspect, though Shin Okja had observed this terrible transformation: (chapter 57)

And this raises the following question. Why did the sleep specialist not question the main lead directly and relied on other sources? (chapter 66) It is because the physical therapist is just a number (2) and as such a file. Therefore the doctor is not seeing the patient as a human. I can not blame the woman either, for she has so many patients to treat during the day. And now look at the building of the hospital: (chapter 66). It is huge reminding me of a factory. This “modern hospital” with its sleek architecture, expansive buildings, and impressive specialization exudes a sense of advancement and trustworthiness. Yet beneath this polished surface lies a business-oriented structure, one that prizes efficiency, reputation, and patient turnover over genuine patient connection. This “modern hospital” (chapter 67) functions like one factory: patients are numbers in a queue, doctors are overloaded, and individual care becomes secondary to systemic goals. The very design of the building reflects this: towering facades and compartmentalized departments, where nature and warmth are pushed to the background. In such an environment, the Hippocratic Oath—rooted in ideals of empathy, presence, and personal responsibility—is reduced to ritual, overshadowed by institutional pragmatism and economic demands. Hence she is simply treating his symptoms: insomnia and “sleepwalking”! She is prescribing him “sleeping pills”. (chapter 67) She is doing exactly what Shin Okja wanted: (chapter 65) (chapter 65) It is as though thanks to the drug, the odd behavior from Kim Dan would simply vanish. (chapter 67) That’s the reason why Mingwa didn’t give the doctor a name. She has become a soulless doctor, like a robot. On the one hand, the absence of her name implies that she is not trying to seek fame like Kim Miseon (chapter 5) with the new medicine. On the other hand, it implies that the light-brown haired woman is doing her job for her paycheck which reminds me of Cheolmin’s statement: (chapter 13): “Oh no, no. That won’t do. My precious paycheck!”.

This “namelessness” is not a coincidence. It mirrors how large hospitals treat their staff: as interchangeable parts of a system that prioritizes efficiency and profit over personalized care. (chapter 67) The sleep specialist becomes a faceless figure in an institution where doctors are overworked, underpaid, and pressured to diagnose quickly. Her task is not to heal, but to manage—preferably in under 10 minutes. This reminds me of a confession I received from my own osteopath-orthopedist-chiropractor. He once told me that in hospitals (Germany), proper care is nearly impossible. Due to pressure and time constraints, most doctors are given no more than two or three minutes per patient. As a result, many end up recommending surgery as the default solution—not necessarily because it’s the best, but because it’s fast and system-approved.

Disillusioned by this assembly-line approach, he eventually left the hospital and opened his own private practice. There, he devotes at least one full hour to each new patient—first to examine, then to diagnose, and finally to treat them himself. I remain deeply grateful to him, because he was the only one able to resolve my long-standing shoulder and neck pain. While others focused on symptoms—treating the neck in isolation—he identified the true origin: spinal blockages further down the column. What struck me even more is that he once recognized signs of depression in a patient—not through tests or charts, but simply by observing how the symptoms would worsen or improve. He talks to his patients while treating them, listening not only to their words, but also to their bodies. This interaction allows him to adjust the treatment in real-time and to notice subtle signs others might miss. That’s what makes him a true healer. He doesn’t rush; he takes his time and creates space for the patient to be seen and heard. In doing so, he provides something that modern hospitals often fail to offer: attention without judgment, and care without hurry.

On the other hand, he also confided in me that he has learned to select his patients. Some individuals came to him with fixed expectations, treating him like a service provider rather than a medical expert. They arrived with their own self-diagnoses and requests, expecting him to execute treatment plans they had already designed in their minds. In those cases, he had to draw a line—because healing, in his view, depends on trust and dialogue, not on fulfilling demands. A doctor, he reminded me, is not a technician carrying out orders, but someone who must observe, assess, and guide with discernment. This dynamic reminded me of Joo Jaekyung, who often treated both Dr. Lee and Kim Dan (chapter 27) (chapter 49) as mere service providers. Whether it was brushing off medical advice with “Don’t push it, I know my body better than anyone else” (chapter 27) or demanding instant pain relief to continue training (chapter 49), the champion positioned himself as the ultimate authority over his own treatment. Since his attitude echoed the confession of my osteopath, it is understandable why my osteopath-orthopedist began to select his patients carefully. This mirrors Kim Dan’s evolution, when the latter chose to reject the champion’s offer. Indirectly, he is “learning” to select his job and not take them by opportunism. He is also learning to select his “patients”. Striking is that Shin Okja has a similar attitude than the athlete. (chapter 7) She desired to have a treatment with less side effects and less painful. And the moment she was confronted with reality, this painful new treatment only brought pain and nothing more, she chose to leave this institution and move elsewhere. (chapter 53) Therefore it is not surprising that she is treating the protagonist the same way: she knows what is the best for him. (chapter 57) She is treating him like a service-provider, she is now rejecting that he has lost his “usefulness”. His pay here is not high, …

But let’s return our attention to the anonymous sleep specialist. The latter has just become a victim of this terrible health system. She is not engaging with Kim Dan’s trauma, nor investigating his psyche, for she doesn’t have the time for it. Her task is not to heal deeply, but to manage efficiently. Secondly, she is specialized in sleep medicine, so she is no psychologist or psychiatrist. Therefore it is not surprising that she is focusing on certain aspects. But sending him to a different department would mean that she would lose her „new patient“. If you have ever watched series about hospitals, you are aware of the competition between departments. Here I can recommend the K-drama LIFE. Since she is more treating him in such a short time, it is not astonishing that doc Dan is doubting her words, (chapter 67) and not even following her recommendation. (chapter 67) He felt misjudged and misunderstood; reduced to a file number, not seen as a complex human being.

However, there’s more to it. Two details stood out to me in particular. First, consider what the anonymous doctor told Joo Jaekyung (chapter 67) and second, what Kim Dan actually received as treatment: (chapter 67) pills in a plastic bag marked with a standard instruction: “Take with food”. These two panels capture more than a routine prescription, they reveal the institutional deflection of responsibility and the impersonal mechanics of care.

By printing the instruction on the packaging rather than saying it aloud, the doctor shields herself from accountability. If something goes wrong, she can point to the label. She doesn’t have to engage, explain, or ensure understanding. It’s a subtle but calculated transfer of responsibility—from physician to patient, and even more so, to the guardian. Now it’s not just Kim Dan who’s expected to monitor himself, but Joo Jaekyung as well. The burden of care is silently offloaded onto those least equipped to manage it.

What makes it worse is that Joo Jaekyung is never shown holding or reading the bag. The implication? He likely never noticed the fine print at all. No one is actively guiding the treatment. No one is watching over Kim Dan.

Her verbal emphasis is even more revealing. Instead of discussing the food requirement or giving Kim Dan any personal advice, she delivers a single, sweeping command: “Drinking is off-limits.” It’s not just vague—it’s scolding. The patient’s alcoholism isn’t treated; it’s sidelined. The system checks the boxes—and moves on. It frames her as an authority figure who cares more about issuing warnings than offering help. There’s no nuance, no tailored support, no effort to build trust. What Kim Dan hears is not empathy, but judgment. He’s treated as a risk to be managed, not a human being to be helped. She can only reinforce his low self-esteem: he‘s a burden.

This is what deepens his sense of being misdiagnosed, as if the doctor was painting his condition so negatively in order to scare him. He doesn’t receive insight or compassion—he receives protocol. And in a healthcare system ruled by efficiency and liability protection, the doctor’s priority becomes covering herself—not ensuring the well-being of her patient.

The invisible doctor and the visible patient

Cheolmin (chapter 13), in contrast, enters the story with no white coat at all. He carries only a doctor’s bag, dressed in a green pullover and a beige checkered shirt. (chapter 13) Despite this informal attire, he immediately recognizes Kim Dan’s symptoms and engages both the guardian and the patient. He doesn’t need institutional support to assert authority; his presence and diagnostic clarity define him. While his clothes might elsewhere be read as conservative or emotionally restrained, here they highlight that care can come outside rigid systems.

Previously, we interpreted Cheolmin’s clothing as a reflection of a certain emotional reserve. The beige checkered shirt, covered by the green pullover, suggests a guarded personality; someone who perhaps maintains a protective layer between his professional and emotional worlds. And yet, this emotional caution doesn’t hinder his ability to act with warmth and competence. (chapter 13) Quite the opposite. He doesn’t hide behind his distance; he manages it. His approach is practical and grounded, but never cold. He doesn’t wear a white coat, yet he brings with him a doctor’s case and an unshakable sense of responsibility. His tools are simple (his own body), (chapter 13) his posture relaxed, and his tone—often sprinkled with humor—adds a human touch that the eyeless doctor sorely lacks. And what is the cause for this huge difference? It is because the “famous sleep specialist” is relying on her institution (nurses, blood tests, drugs). She is following a procedure, as the visit took place at the hospital.

Unlike Cheolmin, who uses his emotional detachment constructively, the sleep specialist disappears behind it. She neither touches nor addresses the patient directly. She offers no humor, no effort to ease the atmosphere—only sterile authority and detached warnings.

Ironically, while Cheolmin may seem less emotionally expressive at first glance, he is far more emotionally present. His humor isn’t just a personal trait—it’s a therapeutic tool. (chapter 13) It bridges the gap between roles, making the patient feel seen rather than categorized. There’s no judgement in their relationship. The eyeless doctor may appear neutral, but in truth, she is hollow. Cheolmin appears reserved, yet his actions speak with empathy. Where she recites guidelines, he initiates dialogue. (chapter 13) Where she avoids involvement, he offers engagement.

In short, Cheolmin’s clothes reflect thoughtful distance—not absence. He remains attentive, responsive, and subtly warm. His restraint is a choice, not a flaw. And it is precisely this contrast that reveals what the Hippocratic Oath should still mean today: presence, humility, and care; and not money, drug and efficiency.

The positions between my friend and me reflect a core conflict between reality and idealism. She values adherence to clinical norms and sees the specialist’s behavior as a rational expression of professional boundaries. Emotional distance, she argued, is often necessary—not just to ensure objectivity, but also to protect healthcare professionals from burnout, especially in overburdened systems. I agreed in principle, but maintained that detachment becomes damaging to the patients and the doctors. It affects the relationship between them, because it prevents accurate diagnosis or erases the patient’s voice entirely or the patient starts seeing himself as a “client” and the doctor as his “service provider”. A middle ground must be found—where presence doesn’t equate to over-involvement, but where empathy still has space. My orthopedist found his solution: open a small office where he tries to help his patients to avoid surgeries. He told me: “The first surgery in his field is always an option, the second one will always be a necessity.”

Moreover, our analysis acknowledged the limitations the doctor faces. The specialist likely juggles a tight schedule. A queue of patients, like the one displayed before Kim Dan’s session, signals the industrial rhythm of care. In such a system, she may not have time for deeper engagement. But for patients like Kim Dan—vulnerable, undernourished, spiraling emotionally—this neglect can reinforce their invisibility. In contrast, Joo Jaekyung receives deferential treatment, because he is famous. The medical world depicted in Jinx bends toward prestige, not need.

This contrast reveals something vital: in medicine, presence matters. The specialist hides behind procedures. Cheolmin shows up. The white coat, then, becomes a mirror: does it reflect a vocation or disguise institutional distance?

Institutions and Ideals—Comparing the Medical World of Jinx

In Jinx, medical care unfolds within a tapestry of institutions—anonymously vast hospitals (chapter 61) (chapter 67), the Light of Hope hospice (chapter 61), the sleek University hospital dedicated to research (chapter 5), and more intimate yet modern facilities like this one.(Chapter 27) Each medical setting not only has its own architecture but also its own moral blueprint. In the essay “Doctor Romantic 3 (locked)“, I had already compared doctor Lee’s workplace and behavior to the “beautiful Kim Miseon” from the University Hospital. Season 2 introduced us to new institutions. Each place claims authority through professional codes and visual symbols, but the deeper narrative explores how care is either embodied or abandoned. Mingwa uses attire, body language, and structure to draw sharp distinctions between appearance and intent.

Kim Miseon (chapter 5) from Sallim University Seongshim Hospital: This research-driven university hospital is connected to Kim Miseon, the doctor who prescribed a new experimental treatment for the grandmother. (chapter 5) Despite the pristine exterior of the building and the promise of scientific advancement, her actions raise ethical concerns. She dilvuged information in the hallway. (chapter 21) Then the treatment’s failure is attributed either to the grandmother’s frailty or Kim Dan’s late arrival and absence, subtly shifting blame. (chapter 21) Like mentioned before, this treatment wasn’t even properly recorded in the patient file raising the suspicion of deliberate concealment. (chapter 56) It appears as “pain killers”. Her open white coat (chapter 21), worn over a green uniform resembling surgical scrubs, aligns her visually with institutional authority, while her eyeless portrayal emphasizes detachment. (chapter 21) Her motivation seems driven not by compassion but ambition: a pursuit of recognition and success through experimental medicine, regardless of consequence. It seems that this new therapy didn’t bring her the results she hoped, and strangely later director Choi Gilseok (chapter 48) got aware of Shin Okja’s conditions, implying that patient confidentiality had been breached.

Park Junmin (Chapter 61): In contrast, Park Junmin (chapter 61) represents the polished face of a business-oriented clinic. While his office projects sleekness and personalized care, his comments betray his priorities. He praises Joo Jaekyung’s fame and urges a return to the ring—not out of medical concern, but because it would guarantee the champion’s return as a paying patient. He wants to retain a high-profile client. His friendliness is strategic. (chapter 61) He does not embody the Hippocratic Oath but rather a service model. The coat becomes a costume that sells recovery. It is clear that he is promoting his own hospital. Joo Jaekyung, however, surprises him by refusing (chapter 61), highlighting that the athlete has become aware of what genuine care should look like. When the champion calmly declares, “I’ll be receiving rehabilitation services in another hospital,” Junmin answers with a stunned “Sorry?”. But this is not confusion. It’s a reflexive mask for shock. He did not expect to lose control of the situation. Beneath that one-word response lies disbelief, disappointment, and veiled panic. He’s losing a lucrative patient—and more importantly, a public endorsement. The moment exposes how fragile his authority truly is when faced with a patient asserting autonomy. Let’s not forget that when the champion was facing a mental and emotional breakdown, the latter offered no other support than “rest”. He even avoided his gaze. (chapter 54) The athlete was left on his own.

Light of Hope Director (Chapter 59): At first glance, the hospice appears to be underfunded and outdated. (chapter 61) However, its director breaks expectations. Unlike the smooth-talking or indifferent doctors at larger institutions, he is directly involved in patient care. (chapter 56) He informs the physical therapist about the grandmother’s condition, works late at night (chapter 60), criticizes people for their rude behavior (chapter 59) or actively disciplines staff (chapter 59) when mistakes are made. Though he also flatters the champion (chapter 61) and sees promotional potential, he never exploits patients. (chapter 61) The juxtaposition of humility and responsibility in his demeanor, combined with his stunned reactions to sudden events, suggests an overworked and understaffed environment—but not one without moral grounding. His white coat and blue medical uniform echo the nurses’ attire, subtly promoting a sense of equity among staff. Despite being a director, he doesn’t separate himself from frontline caregivers. His uniform also contrasts with the green worn by Kim Miseon or Park Miseon, suggesting a focus on practical responsibility over prestige. By blending in with the team, he fosters a culture of shared accountability, not rigid hierarchy. Among all institutional figures, he comes closest to balancing authority with integrity.

Hospital Director (Chapter 6): While this figure appears authoritative (chapter 1), the details of his attire tell another story. Wearing a suit beneath his coat implies professionalism, but here it also suggests a business-driven mindset. The coat becomes a sleek outer layer masking deeper intentions. His charming demeanor conceals a more sinister reality—he weaponizes authority for personal gain. His use of professional attire isn’t about respectability but manipulation. Beneath the surface, profit, control, and coercion drive his actions. (chapter 1) The white coat, in his case, is not a symbol of healing but a façade for exploitation. drives his authority. The coat becomes a literal cover for abuse—harassment disguised under professionalism. His entire persona is a façade: calculated, charming on the surface, but predatory and morally bankrupt beneath.

The Sleep Specialist (Chapter 67): (chapter 67) Eyeless and detached, the sleep doctor treats Kim Dan without any emotional or physical engagement. Her absence of a name symbolizes depersonalization. She doesn’t speak directly to Kim Dan, doesn’t examine him, and only echoes what she heard from Joo Jaekyung. The prescription she offers is another layer of critique. The instruction “Take with food” appears only in print—never verbally stressed—thus shifting liability. If Kim Dan suffers side effects or mixes medication with alcohol, responsibility falls on him or his guardian. This is institutional medicine in its most risk-averse form: impersonal, quick, and shielded from consequence.

Dr. Lee (Chapter 27): Dr. Lee is the only named and truly visible doctor. (chapter 27) His gray shirt signals a more relaxed approach, (chapter 27) and his facial expression conveys a certain empathy—though his words also betray resignation. He sits beside the patient, not opposite, visually erasing the typical hierarchical divide between doctor and athlete. His recommendation that Joo Jaekyung rest is gently delivered, but he knows it will likely be ignored. He represents the tension between medical idealism and the pressures of athletic performance. He is trying his best to protect Joo Jaekyung’s career. (chapter 27) Notably, he doesn’t chase fame or loyalty—he’s realistic, yet still rooted in care. (chapter 27) His clinic, with open blinds and wide windows, stands for transparency and modern ethics.

Cheolmin (Chapter 13): (chapter 13) Finally, Cheolmin exists outside the hospital system. He wears no white coat, but his behavior mirrors a true physician’s. He diagnoses accurately, gives immediate advice, and engages both patient and guardian. His attire—a shirt layered under another—might suggest emotional restraint, but it doesn’t interfere with his actions. He jokes and teases, breaking through tension and inviting trust. He acts not because protocol demands it, but because someone needs help. That’s enough.

This comparative tableau reveals that white coats do not guarantee compassion—and their absence doesn’t negate it. In Jinx, only those who break institutional molds offer real help. The rest follow protocols, serve systems, and sometimes cause harm through inaction or self-interest. It exposes that doctors are simply humans and not gods.

Furthermore, the financial aspect underpins all these interactions. Hospitals in Jinx are not purely charitable; they’re businesses. The emphasis on new medicine, fame, or facility branding often outweighs the patient’s actual condition. Misdiagnoses, evasions, and moral compromises follow from this reality.

Kim Dan’s journey through these institutions underscores how vulnerable patients are when medicine is transactional. Blame is subtly shifted. Responsibility is diffused. And yet, in emergencies, the expectation remains: doctors should act.

Nature, Architecture, and the Illusion of Healing

A striking feature in Jinx is the architectural integration of nature into hospital design. (chapter 67) Trees and greenery appear in every facility—but their placement and symbolism vary. These visual cues subtly reveal each institution’s philosophy of care.

At the university hospital where Kim Miseon works, (chapter 41) nature is neatly confined. Rooftop gardens and structured greenery exist, but more as visual accessories than lived environments. The hospital is a towering research center, representing scientific advancement—but also bureaucratic coldness. Here, nature exists to impress, not to comfort. This artificial balance between concrete and green reflects a clinical detachment: nature is curated, not embraced. It aligns perfectly with Kim Miseon’s demeanor—professional, pristine, but ultimately distant and ambition-driven.the environment feels controlled. (chapter 41)

In the rain-drenched hospital (chapter 54) where Joo Jaekyung receives treatment, the rooftop greenery appears remote and ornamental, disconnected from patient care. (chapter 61) Nature is present but removed, almost symbolic of lost ideals. The building is imposing, gray, and bureaucratic, which is quite similar to the university hospital.

In the sleep therapy hospital (chapter 67), the setting amplifies this detachment. Trees do appear, but they are overwhelmed by massive, impersonal structures. The greenery seems almost trapped, overshadowed by glass and steel. This mirrors the interaction with the sleep specialist, who issues warnings and prescriptions without genuine communication. In this environment, nature is not a partner in healing—it is background noise, a symbolic performance of care in a place that prioritizes liability and speed over connection.

By contrast, the Light of Hope hospice (chapters 61) is embedded in a hillside, its architecture low to the ground, surrounded by untamed, organic greenery. The trees are not ornamental—they embrace the building, echoing a kind of natural protection. Nature here is not only real, but alive. It reflects the ethos of the institution: flawed, underfunded, but grounded in human presence. The hospital director may wear a coat, but his modest blue uniform aligns him visually with the nurses, suggesting equity and participation rather than hierarchy. Just like the unpolished trees, he is there not to be admired but to serve.

A fourth setting appears with Dr. Lee’s clinic (chapter 27). The building is smaller, (chapter 18) modern, and set among scattered trees. (chapter 18) Large windows suggest openness and transparency—the very qualities Dr. Lee brings to his interaction. This is a space that, while modest, is genuinely attentive. Here, nature doesn’t impress, it is integrated in the landscape. The park is not surrounded by huge buildings.

Through these varied landscapes, Jinx critiques the illusion of healing as something that can be staged through architecture. It exposes how hospitals, like people, can hide behind appearances. Trees and plants, like white coats and professional titles, can be used to mask indifference just as easily as they can accompany real care. Healing does not bloom in greenery alone—it flourishes through presence, attentiveness, and trust.

Yet these visual patterns also contain hope. The presence of even small parks and rooftop gardens within institutional designs reflects an underlying truth: nature matters. (chapter 41) These green spaces acknowledge, even if superficially, that human beings do not heal through medicine alone. They need sunlight, air, softness—a sense of rhythm beyond fluorescent lights and steel corridors. Nature grounds. It breathes.

That is why the small town, (chapter 65) nestled in the countryside and far from institutional rigidity, emerges as a space of true potential. In returning there, Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan are not just escaping their past—they are moving toward a form of healing that modern hospitals imitate but rarely achieve. Closer to nature, they are closer to themselves. If hospitals imitate forests, the village becomes the forest. And in that simplicity, Jinx suggests, real happiness might grow.

Conclusions

From open to closed, from crisp to wrinkled, the white coat becomes a symbol of ideology. Some wear it like armor, others like a mask—and some not at all. But it is not just the coat that deceives. Buildings too wear their own uniforms. Grand glass hospitals draped in rooftop gardens and courtyard trees promise healing, yet often fail to deliver. Nature becomes another costume—just like the coat.

But Jinx reminds us: real care cannot be faked. It is revealed not through polished surfaces or institutional prestige, but in action—staying late, listening carefully, protecting the vulnerable. The doctors who truly heal are those who treat the person, not the file.

And why, then, do so few doctors recommend sunlight, trees, or quiet walks? The answer is simple: nature costs nothing. It cannot be patented or billed. And yet, its presence in every hospital design is a silent confession that healing lies outside the system. That, in the end, true recovery begins where profit ends. This is precisely what Jinx shows through Joo Jaekyung’s arc: once he leaves the sterile confines of the gym and begins spending time outdoors, (chapter 62) surrounded by greenery, animals, and people who don’t treat him as a product—his health improves. His muscles may still ache, but mentally and emotionally, he is lighter. Research confirms what the story suggests: sunlight and time in nature significantly boost mental health. In that way, his borrowed floral pants and farmwork reflect something deeper—a return to balance. Nature becomes not just a background, but a remedy.

The Hippocratic Oath promised to do no harm. But in a medical world where patients are reduced to symptoms, empathy is replaced by protocol, and care becomes a product, harm happens quietly—disguised in good intentions and sealed with institutional polish.

And yet, what the Oath once embodied still exists—just not in the systems that claim it. It lives in a shared meal, a walk under trees, a quiet moment in the sun. (chapter 57) It lives where no one is watching and no one is billing. In Jinx, the real medicine lies outside the chart—in the dirt on borrowed floral pants, in sweat earned under open skies. Nature becomes the unspoken vow that systems forgot.

The coat may still be white. The walls may be green. But healing comes not from the symbols, but from the soil.

That’s the truth behind the Oath of Hippocrates.

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

Jinx: 𓇢𓆸 Prove Me Wrong Again 💢😂

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

The Weight of Unseen Chains: Mental Barriers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Dandelion and Praise: A Fragile Symbol

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

Chapter 1Chapter 15Chapter 30Chapter 31



Chapter 40Chapter 43Chapter 56Chapter 62Chapter 66



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

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

Hollow Words: The Illusion of Praise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The power of words

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

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

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

The Impact: A Growing Divide

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

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

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

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

A Different Kind of Praise

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion: Breaking the Cycle

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

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

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

Jinx: Wheels 🛞 and Waves 🌊〰️- part 1

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

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

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

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

The grandmother and the ocean

Between CREAK, STEP and TAP

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

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

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

“It’s a nice little town, isn’t it”

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

The grandmother and the beach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shin Okja’s lies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Captain Hook and his t-shirt

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

Jinx: 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.

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

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

Numbers and Characters

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 and antagonists

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

1: Isolation, Ego, and Domination

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

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

The hidden vampires in Jinx

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

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

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

11: The false spiritual guide

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

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

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

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

0: Emptiness, Neglect, and Obliteration

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

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

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

46: Cycles of Dependence and Exploitation

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

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

Number 9 and its significance

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

Chapter 6Chapter 26Chapter 36Chapter 42Chapter 46

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx: Daily Jinx Advent Insight 15 📆🃏♦️♥️

If you pay attention to the title, you might have noticed the joker, diamond and the heart as emojis. This signifies that I will examine this panel once again. (chapter 27)

The 3 cards and its significance

Yes, a thought occurred to me, while I was writing the last analysis about this scene. In Daily Jinx Advent Insight 7, I interpreted that Joo Jaekyung had been in reality on the verge of winning the game, but due to the Joker, a wild card, he thought, he had already lost. Then I had added that the Joker card could be perceived as a metaphor for Kim Dan. The champion had lost his last game, for he didn’t utilize his PT properly. He mistrusted him, therefore he didn’t talk with him about his meeting with director Choi Gilseok. In addition, he did nothing to protect him from the public eyes. He never realized that this man was the synonym for secrecy and information. The protagonist knows everything about the athlete’s health and injuries (not just his bad joints, but also his insomnia). Therefore he should have been guarded and protected, making sure that nothing would be leaked. However, I believe that the Joker could represent another character from Jinx. The moment I saw these cards (Joker, 3 Diamond, 3 Heart) as a symbol for a character, I suddenly realized that both main leads were defeated by their enemies, because both didn’t use their cards properly.

The other person behind the Joker

And now, you might be wondering about the identity of the other Joker. The fact that Joo Jaekyung is holding the Joker in his hand implies that he has this person on his side. He is close to him. In my eyes, it is the mysterious doctor from chapter 13. According to me, it is Cheolmin hyung. The fact that he called him, when the celebrity desired to avoid the headlines with a scandal, is a sign that he is trusting this man. (chapter 13) He is definitely sure that this man won’t betray him. He is not judging him for his job or “sexual preferences”. He embodies fairness, tolerance and impartiality. And since in his cellphone, Doctor Cheolmin is registered under the name Cheolmin hyung, it exposes his closeness with this cute doctor. He is like a “brother”. (chapter 13) The conversation between these two characters in episode 13 shows that Cheolmin is not only a reliable person, but also a good friend. He assisted the star in a time of needs without expecting anything in return. There was no exchange of favors, hence Mingwa showed us his hand, when he said his goodbye. (chapter 13) This gesture with the hand implied not only that he was just looking forward to meeting him again, but also generosity. And if there was a request from Cheolmin, it was just about an information: (chapter 13) It had nothing to do with money and promoting his hospital.

As soon as I came to associate the Joker with Cheolmin Hyung, Joo Jaekyung’s only true friend, I suddenly realized why this mysterious doctor no longer showed up in season 1. He was treated like the Joker in episode 27. He was not used properly, and this in two occasions. (chapter 33) According to me, the man was calling his friend Cheolmin, because he truly believed that the actor had been hurt. The fact that he went to the rooftop in order to call the person is indicating that he desires to hide his contact from Park Namwook and Jeong Yosep. In other words, he was seeking secrecy, exactly like the actor. As you can see, the dragon and the gumiho had a similar attitude. They thought that the rooftop was the perfect place to hide a secret. So by calling Cheolmin who is working at a hospital, the MMA fighter was making sure that there would be no scandal. However, when he called him, he discovered the truth. Choi Heesung had faked his injury. Therefore how could he use his connection with Cheolmin, when there was no emergency? In his eyes, he would have abused his busy friend’s generosity. That’s the reason why the star chose not to intervene. If he had revealed the truth and as such accused the actor of deception, he would have no one by his side to prove the truth. It was one man against two. Secondly, by revealing his presence on the rooftop, he would have been forced to mention his close friend: Cheolmin hyung. His connection with the athlete would have raised some question. And because he didn’t utilize the Joker in that situation, he became a victim of a trick. It is important, because the champion’s decision to hide Cheolmin’s existence from Jeong Yosep and Park Namwook is a sign that deep down, he is not trusting his two other hyungs. In my eyes, it is related to his homosexuality. But there could be other reasons as well, for example he met this doctor, before he became a celebrity.

As for the second occasion, it took place at the restaurant. (chapter 33) For me, the doctor was the person Joo Jaekyung was talking to. Interesting is that contrary to episode 33, he didn’t leave the inn in order to talk to his acquaintance. In fact, he did it in front of the door. By acting that way, he didn’t attract the attention from the members. No one questioned the celebrity why he was talking on the phone for quite some time. They just imagined that it was work-related due to the selfie with a stan. (chapter 43) They didn’t even bother to wait for him to arrive before drinking and eating, though the man was the birthday child. He was actually the guest of honor. (chapter 43) This exposes violation of social norms and even the disrespect towards Joo Jaekyung. He is just seen as a cash cow, hence there was no thank you from them or even a short invitation for him, like Park Namwook and Kim Changmin had done it in episode 9. (chapter 9) (chapter 9) In fact, Joo Jaekyung was totally neglected at the restaurant, no one even paid attention to his actions. Under this light, I recognized why Mingwa created this incident: (chapter 43) It was not just to bring the two main leads closer, but also to expose the wrongdoers. If they had waited for him, the champion wouldn’t have drunk some soju from the glass of water, for Kim Dan couldn’t have used his glass. (chapter 43) That’s why the manager got red, a sign of embarrassment. He realized that they should have all waited for the birthday child. Moreover, don’t forget that the star was even paying the bill. And now, you are wondering if I didn’t diverge from my original topic, the Joker and Cheolmin hyung. No, as this new interpretation helped me to understand why Joo Jaekyung talked to his hyung in front of others. He already sensed that no one was observing him or waiting for him. (chapter 43) Moreover, it is possible that the mysterious caller desired to congratulate for his birthday or even to thank for his donation. Let’s not forget that just before his real birthday, the celebrity organized a charity event, and it could be related to Cheolmin’s work place. (chapter 41) Because I detected ingratitude, selfishness and rudeness from Team Black, I couldn’t help myself thinking that the other person must have behaved differently, which put the young man in a good mood. Therefore he overlooked the incident with the switch of glass: (chapter 13) Here we have a threat from the champion to which Cheolmin replied with a joke. Here, we have the same situation: a threat, but people got scared (chapter 43) before Park Namwook tried to relativize the incident. (chapter 43) Thus it dawned on me why Cheolmin was not introduced to Kim Dan in season 1. He didn’t belong to Joo Jaekyung’s inner circle, his only true friend. He didn’t trust him enough to introduce him to this peculiar doctor. And now let me ask you this? What is a joker?

The Joker has held various roles throughout history, rooted in society’s need for humor, critique, and balance. Historically, the Joker or court jester was a figure in royal courts who entertained through wit, music, or physical comedy. Yet, their symbolic role extended beyond entertainment; they served as a unique voice of truth, able to mock power and question authority without punishment. Their ability to navigate sensitive topics under the guise of humor made them essential figures for revealing societal flaws.

Symbolically, the Joker represents duality: humor and tragedy, order and chaos. It reflects society’s hidden truths and contradictions, often acting as a mirror to human folly. In a broader sense, the Joker embodies freedom and the subversion of norms, often challenging rigid structures or oppressive systems. This duality persists in modern interpretations, where the Joker is both a symbol of liberation and an agent of chaos, reflecting society’s shifting values and inner struggles. In other words, he rejects herd mentality and hypocrisy. He embodies seriousness, but also fun and laughs. And that’s exactly how Cheolmin appeared in chapter 13. He is a non-conformist, he treats his job seriously, but if he sees something wrong, he has no problem to voice his opinion and criticize the person: (chapter 13). Hence I believe that the other reason why our cute PT didn’t meet Cheolmin in season 1 is that he was not ready to interact with him. Kim Dan needed to mature, to free himself from social norms in order to accept such a man as a “role model”. That’s the reason why I am expecting the return from this mysterious doctor in season 2. In my opinion, he will play a central role in dethroning the king Park Namwook at Team Black, but also in helping Kim Dan to obtain justice. Keep in mind that according to me, the protagonist was a victim of many crimes committed by doctors. (The hospital director, Kim Miseon, MFC doctors)

The 3 Diamond and 3 heart

Since the Joker represents the only true friend from the Emperor, I came to the following deduction. Because Kim Dan is holding a diamond and a heart card, this means that he has two persons on his side as well. In other words, these 3 diamond and 3 heart represent the physical therapist’s friends. Anyone will immediately recognize the identity of his true friends: Choi Heesung as the diamond (due to his wealth and brillance) and Yoon-Gu as the heart. Let’s not forget that the actor was willing to intervene, if the PT needed help to “tame” the Emperor. (chapter 35) He offered his assistance, but at no moment the main lead thought of even asking for his help. (chapter 46) If he had voiced his struggle to Heesung, the latter would have understood him and “talked” some sense to the dragon. And it is the same for Potato. In the locker room, when Kim Dan was criticized for his sloppiness, (chapter 50) he didn’t ask from Potato to vouch for him. He could have reached to him, requesting from him to testify in his favor. Yes, I believe that not only the actor and the maknae are to blame for their passivity, the physical therapist is also responsible for his own suffering. He is not seeing that he has already gained two friends. However, he didn’t treat them properly. No wonder why Kim Dan ended up alone at the end of season 1. At no moment, he confided to Potato or other members about his struggles, he kept everything to himself which is similar to his soulmate.

But why does the protagonist behave like this? One might reply that he has never had any friend before. Therefore he doesn’t know how to have friends. However, I feel that there exists a deeper cause. In my eyes, it is related to his low self-esteem mixed with pride. Yes, deep down, Kim Dan feels some shame due to his social background and familial situation. This explicates why he only mentioned his grandmother once (chapter 30). Here, I am excluding the scene with his drunkenness. Nevertheless, from his words, Heesung couldn’t detect that he was raised by a single grandmother. He already had a hard time to “accept” the champion’s benevolence (chapter 18) He was brainwashed to rely only on himself. Why? It is related to his halmeoni and his childhood. The elderly woman gave the impression that she raised him without any help. She did everything on her own which is only partially true. The young boy was forced very early on to help her. (chapter 5) (chapter 47) Hence he was taught cooking. In addition, we can already envision that when he was a high school student, he had to take a part-time job. She definitely minimized his assistance, creating a debt towards her.

Observe that though he treated the fighters (chapter 7) and (chapter 23), he just acted as their “PT” and nothing more. In other words, he acted, as if they only had a professional relationship. This explicates why Kim Dan never talked about himself, in other words he never shared any information with them. However, I doubt that he just considered them as his “patients”. He was happy to give his assistance. For me, the fact that he never lowered his guard is a sign of his low-esteem. So they had a strictly professional relationship, except with Potato. (chapter 26) However, even here, Kim Dan never shared his cellphone number with the maknae. If Potato had it, he would have tried to contact him immediately. To conclude, though I criticized Yoon-Gu and Heesung for their indifference and neglect, I feel that Kim Dan is partially responsible for this too. He didn’t take the first step to improve their relationship. Friendship is a two-way Street!

To conclude, the 3 diamond and 3 heart (chapter 27) represents the PT’s friends. The moment he acknowledges that he has these two assets, he should recognize that he is not “poor”. He needs to realize that he is on his own, because he chose to. He simply ignored “people” around him.

On the other hand, it is important to relativize this aspect as well, for Shin Okja played a huge role in this mind-set. The best evidence is that the woman doesn’t have any friend. (chapter 7) She needs to pay a nurse to give her some company. Therefore she is forced to rely on her grandson. Then she doesn’t pay any attention to her grandson’s needs and circumstances, for she is only focused on her own suffering and “unhappiness” chasing after an illusion. (chapter 53) Because she has no one by her side except Kim Dan, she has no problem to move to a different place where she doesn’t know anyone. Her grandchild is her “home”. This move reminded me a lot to a uprooting. It was, as though the male lead was not allowed to settle for good. Don’t forget that her deteriorated home let transpire that she didn’t consider this place as her true home. It was just a stopping-place. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Kim Dan could never get any friend. Through the cards, I could find more evidences about my past interpretation. The halmeoni is responsible for the protagonist’s self-blame, lack of confidence, suffering and isolation.

But in order to recognize the existence of true friends in his life, Kim Dan needs to find a good role model. And that would Joo Jaekyung with his hidden Joker Cheolmin.

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

Jinx: Daily Jinx Advent Insight 2 📆 🌺🌷🍎

Like mentioned in the last essay, I am planning to release a short analysis each day. Today, my focus will be on this scene: (chapter 52) The remaining members from Team Black were paying a visit to the recently surged athlete. One detail caught my attention.

Where are the flowers or the fruits from the visitors?

If you have ever watched any K-drama, you can observe how visitors bring flowers, nutrition drinks, a basket of fruits or ginseng to a patient recovering at a hospital. Why? Offering items like fruits, flowers, books, nutrition drinks, or ginseng to a hospital patient serves both emotional and physical purposes. Flowers and books help create a comforting environment, lifting the patient’s spirits, while fruits and nutrition drinks provide essential nutrients, aiding recovery. Ginseng, valued in traditional medicine for boosting energy and immune support, can also contribute to physical well-being. Together, these gifts show thoughtfulness, offering nourishment, distraction, and a reminder that the patient is cared for, fostering a holistic approach to healing. They are not alone, they can count on their friends or family’s support.

Since these gestures show comfort and thoughtfulness, promoting emotional well-being, the panel exposes Team Black’s true mentality. They are not taking care of the celebrity’s mental and emotional care at all. The absence reinforces my previous interpretation about this scene. Park Namwook is far from being compassionate and caring. In fact, imagine that they are talking about work in such an environment, while the fighter should focus on his recovery. Let’s not forget that he just got surged which shouldn’t be underestimated.

One might argue that Kim Dan didn’t bring a gift to his grandmother, when he visited her twice at the hospital. (chapter 5) (chapter 7) Nevertheless, the young man was struggling financially back then, he could barely buy himself some food. Nonetheless, he still took his time to visit her before going to his new work place. And this brings me back to the image from episode 22: (chapter 52) All these men are not struggling financially, hence they should have thought about a present. Moreover, observe that they didn’t bring anything during that day, but also not before. The VIP hospital room is totally empty, even sterile. The absence of items is indicating their neglect, I am even suspecting that they didn’t visit the champion for a while. Mingwa showed us that the remaining members went to the gym. (chapter 52) But there is more to it.

They didn’t send anything either: no card or message. The table and bed are clean. Moreover, my avid readers could see that Joo Jaekyung only had his cellphone and he was reading the news. This means that Joo Jaekyung didn’t receive any kind word from them either. This exposes the coldness from Park Namwook who is seen as hyung and role model for Team Black. He has spent so many years by his side, but he is unable to show any compassion towards his “boy”, To conclude, he is not a role model. Quite far from it…. And this raises the following question.

Why didn’t they even think of a small present?

They could use the birthday party as an excuse. (chapter 43) He wouldn’t have liked it. He dislikes presents anyway. However, his reaction at the surprised birthday party can not be utilized as an excuse. Why? I have two reasons for this objection. First, he saw the birthday party as a disturbance to his routine (training)! That’s why he said this to the fighters: (chapter 43) They should eat the cake quickly so that the training could start. But at the hospital, he has all the time in the world. He can not train due to his injured shoulder. Hence the gift doesn’t represent a transgression at all. As for the second reason, note that the athlete ate the strawberry with the cream, with this gesture, he was sending the signal that he was accepting their present, though he didn’t eat much. Finally, by eating the strawberry, he displays his like for fruits!!

There exists another reason why the athlete received nothing from his visitors. Let’s not forget that for the athlete, presents were always connected to favors! The donator expected something in exchange from the “receiver”. And now, you know why Park Namwook came empty-handed! He had nothing to expect from Joo Jaekyung, the latter lost his title and he can not fight for 3 months. This means that during this time, Park Namwook can not earn any money. Remember that the one racing against time is in truth the former wrestler, for he is expecting this outcome: (chapter 52) Yes, everything is revolving around money for Park Namwook. This observation leads to the following remark. The manager offered nothing to Joo Jaekyung, because he is rich. He has everything he needs. That’s how it dawned on me that so far, the coach has never offered anything to the star himself at all, not even after his victories. Just a stroke on the shoulder (chapter 5) and a compliment in the hallway (chapter 40). In fact, the one doing a favor was always Joo Jaekyung for the manager. Hence the former chose to lie about his shoulder: he is not allowed to show any sign of weakness. (chapter 40)

By noticing the absence of gifts in the hospital room, I had another revelation. I suddenly recalled this scene: (chapter 15) Here, the manager was willing to bring him “all the water the star could ever want”. And guess what? Water is supposed to be free! Naturally, he was replying to the champion’s request. However, I don’t think this remark is anodyne. In fact, “all the water you could ever want” is an indication that the champion is not allowed to be too greedy and Park Namwook is only willing to offer water and nothing else. It exposes Park Namwook‘s greed.

And now, it is time to return to the hospital room. (chapter 52) Did Park Namwook ask the athlete if he wanted to have some water? Did he offer to help him to change the position of his bed? Did he assist him to sit correctly, like the champion did with the grandmother? (chapter 21) Did he spend his time with him in order to give him some comfort? The answer is always NO. Yes, Joo Jaekyung appears as a knight in shining armor compared to Park Namwook.

Why am I so certain that he didn’t spend time with the athlete?

First, for me, there is no doubt that Park Namwook felt uncomfortable with the injured sportsman. Don’t forget that his biggest fear is that his boy gets so injured that he can no longer fight. (chapter 43) He only admires the strong and invincible fighter, not the weak man. Furthermore, he needed to announce to Joo Jaekyung that his PT had quit. Thanks to Potato’s discovery, the man had the opportunity to bring up the resignation. However, he didn’t want to be the one responsible for his resignation. Joo Jaekyung needed to take the fall. What caught my attention is that Potato’s face had cuts, but no bruised face! (chapter 52) Here, I am giving you a comparison with Kim Dan: (chapter 18) The latter had just received his treatment at the hospital. The maknae and the others had not appeared, because they had gone to the hospital in order to treat the chowchow’s wounds. This shows that some time had passed, until they chose to visit the wounded and lonely star. Besides, Jeong Yosep had contacted in the main time the authorities (police, MFC) (chapter 52) As you can see, the timing is indicating that the athlete was manipulated, for they revealed the truth to Joo Jaekyung in delay. It is called “paltering”. This new discovery reinforces my first examination. They were all selfish and cold-hearted, for they had the time to buy a present, when they went to the VIP room. Simultaneously, it corroborates my impression that Park Namwook was not truly unhappy about Kim Dan’s departure. His passivity, silence and the delayed announcement of his resignation are all revealing that Park Namwook was not truly concerned about the PT. But the best evidence is his behavior towards his own “boy”. He spent so many years by his side (chapter 15), but he didn’t offer him anything at the hospital: no book, no ginseng, no fruit…. In verity, he was the one who desired to get comfort and validation. (chapter 52) It was, as if the world had turned upside down.

That’s it for today.

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: To Give🎁 or To Take? The Subtle Battle of Love ❤️ and Power 🥊 in Jinx

The trigger for this essay were quotes from “The Art Of Loving”, a book written by Erich Fromm. In my essay “The Art Of Loving” I had already introduced the German-American socio psychologist, psychoanalyst, sociologist and humanistic philosopher, where I presented his definition of love: Care, knowledge, respect and responsibility. However, notice that the title of my analysis is “To give or To Take?”, which was inspired by other books from Erich Fromm: “To Have or To Be?” and “Escape From Freedom”. The reason is simple, the quotes led me to his other theories which give explanations to the origins of unhappiness or happiness. There he outlined the problems of our modern society and gave advices how to lead a good life. This brings me back to the Korean Manhwa Jinx, where (un)happiness is in the center of the story. As the seme and uke are both really miserable despite their different social status. Both believed to be jinxed. The reality is that they were trapped, and their unhappiness was the result of their own bad choices. How would Erich Fromm explain this?

1. Masters and Slaves

In works like Escape from Freedom and The Art of Loving, Fromm suggested that humans often avoid the responsibility of true freedom by conforming to societal norms, seeking authority figures to follow, or focusing on material gains. This “escape from freedom,” as he called it, results in a loss of autonomy and self-awareness, keeping individuals from mastering their own lives. While Fromm believed we have the potential for self-mastery, he cautioned that this requires a conscious rejection of limiting social pressures and a commitment to self-discovery and personal responsibility. Under this new perspective, my avid readers can grasp my selection for the heading. Freedom defines the distinction between a master and a slave—those with freedom have agency, autonomy, and control over their choices, while those without it are subject to another’s will and have nothing to give to others. It highlights how freedom is fundamental to self-determination and power, establishing a boundary between control and subservience.

1. 1. The poor child and dog

And if you read my previous analysis “Sound Of Water “, you should have realized that Shin Okja embodies the slave who chose to escape from freedom. Thus she blamed life and others (“we”) (chapter 53) for not realizing her biggest wish: to return to the West Coast. With her words, she implies that she never had any choice. Hence she is not responsible for her “misery”. However, after reading Erich Fromm’s philosophy, it becomes clear that she must have always followed social norms and listened to authority figures (parents, husband, doctors, …). That’s how she gave up on her own freedom. One might argue that her scoop of maneuver was limited due to her poverty. However, the Mother Of Pearl Wedding Cabinet is definitely expensive and no junk (chapter 16), especially since the latter is rather old. The grandmother could have sold it, but she never did, for the latter has a sentimental value. Consequently, I would say that she had missed her chance, and naturally her misery is the result of her own wrong choices. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the grandmother portrays herself as poor who has nothing to give to her grandchild. (chapter 53) As a slave, she can not become responsible for Kim Dan and his life. However, she is wrong here again. She was not entirely powerless. She could have talked about her experience with the ocean, she could have loved her grandchild more properly so that Kim Dan wouldn’t have to suffer from abandonment issues and a low self-esteem. Yes, love is something free and no one has control over the emotions of a human being. Due to her lack of self-awareness (Peter Pan Syndrom), she influenced her grandchild negatively, and the latter became a copy of herself: trapped in the past, living in an illusion and rejecting reality. Funny is that by relying on Kim Dan constantly, she was actually teaching her grandson to become accountable and independent. She was entrusting her life into his own hands. Consequently, the main lead chose to accept the deal from Joo Jaekyung during their first night and later asked for a higher salary. Finally, at the end, he chose to leave the penthouse out of obligation (chapter 53) (filial duty), a sign that he is not able to break free from social norms. At the same time, it displays that his feelings for Joo Jaekyung are much stronger than the ones for Shin Okja. His short time spent in the penthouse left a deep impression on him.

On the other hand, we shouldn’t overlook one important aspect. The halmeoni asked for a favor from Kim Dan, and her wish is actually the expression of her own will. In other words, she is making a choice and as such becomes responsible for her own destiny. She can no longer say that life or others had a saying in her desire and choice. That’s the reason why during that night, she turned Kim Dan into a puppy dog. (chapter 53) Her vocabulary exposes that she became a master and in her mind, the puppy dog has to follow her owner. Therefore it is no coincidence that Mingwa created such an image: (chapter 53) The grandmother is now the master of her own life and Kim Dan’s. On the one hand, just before her death, she is learning to become accountable for her own life, even though I still have my doubts that she is really realizing the consequences of her choice. She is still chasing after after an illusion. As you already know, I am anticipating a rude awakening fron her part, as she can not escape from reality and her own mortality. On the other hand, with her request, she gets responsible for her grandchild’s career, and someone could criticize her for making him quit. She didn’t take his job’s obligations into consideration. Simultaneously, this image illustrates a relapse of Kim Dan. He is once again trapped, though he wished to be freed. Thus he wrote this to Joo Jaekyung: (chapter 53) Deep down, he would like to be recognized as a competent physical therapist. Moreover, my avid readers should recall that the champion had already noticed the change of heart in the doctor before the scheme took place. (chapter 53) So the athlete could come to the realization that his departure was related to the grandmother’s sickness and dying wish, a new version of episode 20 and 21. However, even if the fighter helps the grandmother, he can not entirely free the physical therapist. How so? It is because the doctor has to free himself, breaking free from conformity and his own psychological constraints (lack of confidence and as such courage). And the best evidence for his servitude mentality is the absence of his love confession to the athlete. He disguised it behind gratitude. (Chapter 45) But how can he change his condition? I will give the answer below.

1. 2. The release of the rich slave

As you can imagine, the person I am referring behind this heading is the champion. Interesting is that in the story, he received the title “Emperor”. (chapter 14) Yet, the reality is that despite his wealth, he is not free at all. Actually, he reminded me of a Roman gladiator. Gladiators in ancient Rome lived under challenging and contradictory conditions. Although they were often slaves or prisoners of war, some achieved fame, wealth, and admiration comparable to modern-day sports stars. Successful gladiators could earn prizes, attract fan followings, and even enjoy certain luxuries within their restrictive lives. However, they remained under the control of their lanista (manager) or the state, with little freedom to make personal choices. They could not select their opponents or refuse combat, and each fight carried the risk of injury or death, underscoring their vulnerability and lack of autonomy despite their celebrated status.

This comparison between the main lead and a Roman gladiator reinforced my negative perception about Park Namwook. He acts as the owner of the athlete (chapter 40), though the gym belongs to the celebrity. But let’s return our attention to the American-German philosopher. The latter pointed out the importance of self-awareness and the rejection of materialism and social pressures (authority figures, conformity) in order to become truly free.

This aspect is really important, because the athlete Joo Jaekyung is a homosexual which represents a huge taboo in the MMA world. Remember my hypothesis that the jinx could also be an excuse in order to hide his own sexual orientation. (chapter 2) Therefore sex is linked to prostitution and work. Back then, this had nothing to do with pleasure, sensuality and entertaining. It was revolving around power and domination. That way, he wouldn’t appear as weak, he is not controlled by his sexual desires and emotions. That’s how it dawned on me why the champion has been denying the existence of feelings in his past relationships. Naturally, it is possible that he got his heart broken before, but it is also possible that he could never live out his own true homosexuality. Note that his father figure, Park Namwook, has no idea about his sexual life. The athlete could fear to disappoint him. This raises the question how the manager will react, when the athlete’s secret is exposed. Should he request from his boy to organize a conference and deny the allegation there, he would divulge not only his lack of loyalty, but also his hypocrisy. Why? It is because this is something he should have organized after the last match. A conference to expose the existence of schemes. But everything got swayed under the rug. On the other hand, I deduce that if the topic of sodomy is brought up in season 2, there is no ambiguity that both main leads won’t give in to conformity and external pressure (even in the form of threats). Why? It is because during season 2, both characters will come to be true to themselves. That‘s how they can become master of their own life.

This signifies that in order to go on the past of self-mastery, the champion needs to break free from materialism (chapter 41), from his manager’s influence (father figure) and even from the MFC world (authorities) !! What is the common denominator between these three persons? MONEY! (chapter 50) Hence the last match was not cancelled in the last minute. The athlete is not fighting out of fun and passion, but out of obligation and survival. He is trapped in a world where money is everything. Thus he was always pushed to accept any challenger despite his injuries. That’s how I realized why the athlete always suspected Kim Dan of being greedy. It is because he projected his own thoughts onto his partner. However, this negative perception was definitely influenced by his “hyung”, we have the best example in episode 46. Due to Park Namwook, Joo Jaekyung was the one who was constantly thinking and talking about money in front of Kim Dan. (chapter 26) No wonder why he got so surprised by Kim Dan’s reaction in the locker room: (chapter 51) He was disarmed by a single question and a shocked and disappointed face: (chapter 51) The question implied that the doctor had been trusting him.

1. 3. The “lanista’s” chains

We had another perfect example of “Escape from Freedom” in episode 43 at the restaurant. Note that Park Namwook underlined that the fight was the champion’s decision (chapter 43), yet he added shortly this comment: : (chapter 43) The hypocrite coach utilized the personal pronoun “WE” indicating that he and his peers had played a role in the athlete’s decision. Funny is that though he complained about the schedule, he still accepted the switch of the fighter later. But he could have voiced his fears and objections. Nevertheless, he did nothing. Since I connected the halmeoni to past, I suddenly realized that the “lanista” embodies the opposite notion. He is trapped in the future, thus he is always anxious. Imagine that in that scene, they were celebrating Joo Jaekyung’s birthday, it should have been a good time. Yet, the manager kept talking about work and the future. (chapter 43) (chapter 43) This is a sign that he was not “enjoying the present”. In my eyes, with his comments, he was actually ruining the party. Fortunately, no one paid attention to his words except the physical therapist and Yosep. By talking like that, he gives the impression that he is caring and paying attention to the fighter. Yet this is just an illusion, for he is not focused on the present. He neglected his duties, therefore the schemers were able to bring drugs to the champion’s rooms. (chapter 49) Notice that he was afraid of an outburst from Joo Jaekyung in the locker room, therefore they were restraining him. This was no real protection. I am suspecting that the manager is trusting MFC and its organization. In addition, his obsession with the future explains why the athlete’s mental health has been neglected by the coach and manager. As a conclusion, Park Namwook is himself trapped in his own world: money, fear of the future and the champion‘s retirement which means the end of his own career as manager and coach. Therefore he is pushing his fighter to race against time. It is only a matter until his boy gets injured!!

This means that we should see the athlete’s suspension as his moment of release. He is no longer forced to fight. He is “abandoned” by MFC, fans and even by his manager (chapter 53). The latter announces that his “boy” can take a break. What caught my attention is his idiom. The suspension got turned into a break which sounds much more positive. Interesting is that break is not only a synonym for “rest”, but also for “opportunity, chance”. This new discovery reinforces my previous interpretation: the loss of his “title” and his suspension are in verity an escape to freedom. Why? It is because he is no longer exposed to manipulations and external pressure like in episode 36: (chapter 36) money, social media, the agency, the lawyer, Park Namwook and Jeong Yosep. For the first time, Joo Jaekyung can think of something else other than work. Nevertheless, the athlete had not realized it yet. Striking is that the longer the fighter thought about the PT’s resignation, the longer he came to object to it. (chapter 53) This means that the fighter was acknowledging the “uke” as an important member of Team Black. In addition, he was recognizing Kim Dan’s effort and talent as PT. Moreover, it exposes the absence of change in Joo Jaekyung’s mentality. He was still “thinking” of work and fighting. It displays that the protagonist had not realized the true signification of his suspension yet. Hence the doctor’s departure was necessary. Joo Jaekyung is forced to think about his fated partner, making him forget his work and his career. His “obsession” with Kim Dan will push him to stop being a workaholic. But there is more to it.

By leaving the city behind (my prediction), the champion’s not aware that this trip will become a spiritual journey where he will discover his true self. But for that, meditation is required. In my opinion, the grandmother’s illness should serve him as a wake-up call. He spent a lot of money on her treatment, but she couldn’t be saved. It looks like he never visited her again. Should he see her again, he could get shocked. From this (chapter 21) to this (chapter 47) Money is powerless in front of death and terrible injuries. Therefore he is lucky that his shoulder is not ruined forever. Moreover a trip represents a good metaphor for an escape, a travel is a synonym for freedom and the end of “routine”.

2. The ability to love

Far away from medias, public eyes, the agency and his manager, he can discover a different world: the West Coast and nature. And this brings me to a quote from Erich Fromm:

Through this statement, we have the explanation why Joo Jaekyung can love and why he couldn’t love Kim Dan properly in season 1. The fact that he lived alone in the penthouse is a proof of his independency (chapter 35). However, since he didn’t spend much time in his own home, he never took the time to take care of his soulmate. By leaving the city and Team Black behind, he would become truly alone (as opposition to his trips to Busan, the States) which would give him an opportunity to become more honest to himself and to Kim Dan.

In addition, this quote exposes the absence of “unconditional love” from the grandmother. (chapter 53) So far, she could never be alone, she always needed the assistance of others: Kim Dan, the doctor, the nurse, Joo Jaekyung. She always relied on others (“we”, “life”). But it is also the same for Kim Dan who has always been listening to people, as his desire was to get accepted. His conformity led him to experience misery, as he lacked critical thinking. He never questioned people’s words, decisions or behaviors. Only thanks to his soulmate, he started changing. His psychological restrains were his abandonment issues and his low self-esteem. That’s the reason why their love couldn’t flourish in season 1. Nevertheless, Kim Dan still had a good disposition for being capable of loving someone, exactly like his fated partner. He could live on his own as well.This signifies that their future love relationship won’t be toxic, as they won’t be needy or dependent on each other, the exact opposite between the grandmother and Kim Dan or Joo Jaekyung and his hyung Park Namwook. However, this doesn‘t mean that they won‘t help each other.

I am quite certain that the fighter must have noticed the doctor’s low self-esteem in the letter. Therefore he felt bad for his reproaches and lack of trust. Remember that the champion never expressed a compliment or even showed gratitude towards the doctor. (chapter 43) In episode 1, he gave a positive feedback (chapter 1). Nonetheless, his words sounded more negative due to the usage of negation. Moreover, Kim Dan was too scared to take his words seriously. Consequently, it becomes obvious that Kim Dan needs to hear praises from the athlete himself. It is not just about an apology about his misjudgment, the “hamster” needs to hear from his own patient that he trusts him and his hands. Thus he wants to be needed: (chapter 53) This explicates why the young man kept questioning the actor’s intentions behind his gifts. He could see that the man didn’t need him. This thought displays his desire to give a meaning to his own existence as well. If he is needed, he has a reason to exist. This desire of being needed can be expressed by words, but also with the hands: or like this: And what does the hand symbolize? The latter symbolizes gratitude and love! Hence the grandmother took the MMA fighter’s hand in order to thank him. (chapter 22) (chapter 22) As a conclusion, love and gratitude represents the key to freedom and as such to power. And now, you comprehend why The Art Of Loving can not be separated from „Escape from Freedom“.

2. 1. Love and Power

This explains why the famous author declared this:

This means that by giving, the person feels strong and powerful. Why? Fromm views the act of giving not as a depletion of oneself, but rather as a fulfillment and actualization of one’s capabilities. The productive character, according to him, doesn’t define himself by what he possesses or hoards, but rather by what he can give to others. It is his heart which defines his strength. Giving becomes a way of affirming one’s own power and abundance, showcasing that true fulfillment is found in one’s ability to be generous, creative, and life-affirming. Notice that the author contrasts generosity with passivity. By giving, the person becomes proactive and is no longer passive. In the past, I had described Joo Jaekyung as a person suffering from “inner passivity” [For more read “Couch Confession”]. As soon as I read the quote from The Art Of Loving, I realized why the champion disliked receiving presents (chapter 45) so much and preferred organizing a charity event for his birthday . (chapter 41) Being on the receiving side makes him feel weak and powerless. He is reduced to become a passive man. Furthermore, we shouldn’t overlook that such presents are not entirely selfless. Companies or admirers have expectations from Joo Jaekyung, earning some money or getting his attention. At the same time, these presents are strongly connected to his title and fame as champion. Thus they are not taking into consideration about the athlete’s dislikes and likes. Thus he was offered a bottle of wine (chapter 12), though he is no drinker or he doesn’t eat cakes. (chapter 41) The fact that the athlete organized a charity event for his birthday exposes not only his huge heart, but also that he had long recognized the power of generosity. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the champion was willing to pay off the doctor’s debts. (chapter 18) Here, he hoped to see gratitude on his fated partner’s face, but it didn’t happen like he imagined. Yet, notice that despite their argument, Joo Jaekyung proposed to the main lead to live with him in the penthouse: (chapter 18) His facial expression is exposing his true thoughts. He was definitely happy to help the doctor. The reason is simple. He is in control of his heart and life. This shows that deep down, the man has always had a soft heart and could find fulfillment in giving. However, the problem is that the champion had also internalized that there is nothing free in this world. Due to his past experiences, he realized that receivers would exploite his goodness. The green-haired guy was the perfect example. (chapter 2) Therefore it is not surprising that he kept denying his kindness to the doctor: (chapter 18) He had to, because the man was now living with him. Joo Jaekyung feared that his roommate could come to take advantage of his new position and even consider this place as his own. As you can see, the champion had long discovered the power of giving to others. Yet his problem was that he couldn’t live out this principle: he was either exploited or he has no family or close friend so far.

And now, let me ask you one question: who likes giving presents in Jinx? One might reply Kim Dan and Choi Heesung. The doctor and the actor have both something in common. (chapter 30) They both desire to be acknowledged and appreciated. (chapter 45) With this image, it was, as if Kim Dan wanted to be distinguished from all the stans. Yes, I do think that this has something to do their own negative feelings. However, there is a difference between Choi Heesung and Kim Dan. Note that the gifts are related to his sponsors and the agency. They were related to his work. Moreover, the gumiho rarely gave the meals or the presents personally. (chapter 31) (chapter 31) Furthermore, the actor gave these things for one reason: it was to obtain the doctor’s heart or to maintain his good image as a celebrity. In other words, these gestures were not selfless at all. This explains why the athlete was so weary of such “gifts”: a return of favor or a service. But the comedian is not the only one donating things. Naturally, it is the manager Park Namwook. (Chapter 26) (chapter 36) However, my avid readers should ponder on the following aspect: how did he buy the jackets and the junk food? (Chapter 37) This last scene is terrible, for this purchase happened behind the boss’ back. Naturally, everything was bought with the company card!! In other words, Park Namwook’s generosity is fake, for he is not spending his own money. After this new realization, I started wondering if the athlete’s negative attitude towards Kim Dan is not the consequence of Park Namwook’s behavior as well who takes it for granted to spend money on the athlete’s account. Why did the champion anticipate an expectation from Kim Dan, when he received the keychain? (Chapter 45) It is because his relationship with his coach has always been based on „conditional love and expectations“. Don’t forget that the coach was particularly nice to the athlete after winning his match in Busan. He was willing to be his „servant“ in that moment. Furthermore, there exists another evidence that in episode 45 the fighter latched out on the doctor because of his unresolved feelings towards his hyung. (Chapter 45) Kim Dan had not only followed the stans‘ behavior, but also listened to Park Namwook‘s words constantly. ’ (chapter 41) This frenzy was portrayed as something positive. Jinxworms can observe that the manager is mentioning the existence of „favors“. For me, it is no coincidence that in episode 45, the arrival from presents coming from his hyung coincides with the present with Kim Dan. It shows the underlying conflict between the celebrity and the former wrestler. Nevertheless, the fighter has not grasped it yet. So far, Joo Jaekyung has not tried to defy Park Namwook openly, to claim his place as the true owner of Team Black. We should see his words here as a first attempt to act as the boss (Chapter 46) The tension reached its peak in that scene: (chapter 52) The manager imagined that he could act like in the past (recurring to force), for Joo Jaekyung was „used“ to take his slaps. That’s where the generosity from Park Namwook comes from: he gives his punches to Joo Jaekyung and takes Joo Jaekyung‘s company for granted. And now, you comprehend why I selected such a title for this essay.

(Chapter 26) The sparring in episode 26 represents the positive version of giving a punch and taking it. The fighter was not upset about his defeat, moreover he was acting like a real teacher asking the physical therapist to overcome his own fears. On the hand, the slap at the hospital embodies the opposite notions: resent, no real teaching, no reflection, no listening, the one slapping is not overcoming his own fears and vents his anger. The give and take in episode 26 was happiness, true generosity, self-awareness, while this slap displays misery, anger, ignorance: (Chapter 52) True generosity, for Kim Dan had risked his health for the sake of Potato. (Chapter 26) The contrast not only exposes Park Namwook’s fake generosity, but also his greed and selfishness. For me, he missed the opportunity, as at the gym, Kim Dan took the chance, when the athlete was distracted. Hence in my opinion, chapter 52 was the turning point in their toxic relationship. Moreover, it signifies that the manager lost his special position as hyung. Far away from the gym, Joo Jaekyung will see Kim Dan under a different light, maybe even as a true role model, for he is wearing his heart in his hand.

2. 2. The wolf, the hamster and the world

But Erich Fromm wrote this about love:

For Fromm, love transcends a personal or exclusive attachment to one individual; it is a universal force that connects the self to humanity and existence as a whole. True love, in his view, is inclusive and expansive. It’s not a possessive or isolating sentiment but rather one that opens the lover to the wider world, fostering a connection to humanity and, ultimately, a deep acceptance and love for oneself.

Thus I come to the following conclusions: the moment the doctor and the champion admits their affection for their fated partner, they won’t be suffering from self-loathing or low self-esteem. But there is more to it. If you keep the quote in mind, you will realize that the champion’s affection for Kim Dan was not true love. [Like mentioned above, he couldn’t love properly] He couldn’t stand the idea of sharing his partner to others. (chapter 7) (chapter 43) He needed to seclude him from the others. But where does this possessiveness come from? In my opinion, it is not just the result of his own insecurities, but also the influence of the bad role model he had: Park Namwook. First, only in chapter 45, the manager sent congratulations from his family: (chapter 45) This means that Joo Jaekyung was never treated like a real family member. Then, due to his bad portrait of Joo Jaekyung (chapter 9), the manager kept creating a bad image of the athlete: brutal, moody, maniac… but the reality is that the man is actually generous and caring, like mentioned above and the coach knew this. Hence he could lie without any remorse: he is a savior and the gym owner. Moreover, the athlete can speak well and be polite. (chapter 22) This scene at the hospital displays that the fighter had been mirroring the behavior of his counterpart: Shin Okja is sweet and kind. And who is moody, yelling, brutal ? Park Namwook: (chapter 43) (chapter 52) The one who raised him like that is actually him: (chapter 7) Therefore I conclude that this possessiveness and obsession with Kim Dan is the result of the manager’s influence. Park Namwook treated him like a possession. And this brings me to my next part. How to become happy? One might reply: by loving someone. However, how can Joo Jaekyung drop his insecurities and open his heart like that? As you can see, we need another explanation.

3. The guide for happiness

Erich Fromm’s philosophy in To Have or To Be? revolves around two fundamental modes of existence: the having mode and the being mode. These modes represent distinct ways of interacting with the world, structuring relationships, and understanding one’s identity.

I am posting this video which I found very well made. Funny is that the blogger used a haiku to illustrate the difference between the being mode and the having mode.

3. 1. The Having Mode

In the “having” mode, identity and value are based on possessions and control over objects, people, and even oneself. The having mode is characterized by:

  • Possession and Ownership: One’s self-worth and sense of security are derived from what one possesses—material wealth, status, knowledge, even relationships. (Chapter 40) This explicates why the manager is happy in this scene. Thanks to him, he earned a lot of money and felt recognized.
  • Security in Stability: Individuals in the having mode seek to secure their identity through accumulation, feeling stable only when they can cling to things.
  • Alienation and Objectification: Relationships and experiences become objects to be owned or controlled, reducing people and emotions to mere assets.

Fromm argues that the having mode can lead to anxiety and insecurity because possessions can always be lost or taken away. It fosters competitiveness, isolation, and a fixation on external validation, ultimately stunting genuine self-growth and connection with others. Under this light, Manhwa-philes can grasp why the athlete, pushed by his mentor, kept accepting fights after another. The champion was suffering from self-loathing, but in order to get recognition and admiration from his hyung, he needed to win. Notice how gentle and proud the man was after the victories (chapter 15), but as soon as his idol lost his title and got even suspended, he yelled and slapped his fighter: (chapter 52) Why did he not blame the cheaters who had tricked Joo Jaekyung and framed the physical therapist? If you read my previous analyses about the coach, you will certain recall about my diagnosis: he seems to suffer from decidophobia. But as you can see, the man is unhappy, for he is living in the “Having Mode”. Hence he is taking no risk and letting the athlete make decisions. Furthermore, it explains perfectly why the manager lied to the members here: (chapter 22) Since his relationship with the main lead is so secure, he could claim the gym as his own. Notice how he treats the members here: he’s putting them under pressure, threatening them. Everything is revolving around competition, seriousness and greed. Why doesn’t Joo Jaekyung mess with his weight and nutrition? It is because his hyung made sure that the latter would fulfil all his expectations. He needs to be ready for the next fight. Why was the manager not present here? (chapter 43) This exposes his lack of engagement and indifference in the end, but this becomes even more obvious during the night: (chapter 43) Where was he, when his star was drunk? It was, as though he had vanished. (chapter 43) But the best evidence for this interpretation is this image: (chapter 52) The manager is upset, because his boy lost his title and his reputation is ruined. Moreover, many members left the gym which means that the company lost a lot of money.

This highlights the danger of building identity around possessions and the resulting vulnerability. And how did Park Namwook define himself in his life? He was a coach, a manager, the owner of Team Black…. (chapter 9) However, he never presented himself as a father or a husband. It was, as if his children or wife were not a source of his happiness. Why? It is because they don’t bring money, but rather cost money. Thanks to Joo Jaekyung’s popularity, the manager could stand in the spotlight (chapter 40), yet notice that no fans or fighter know his name as a successful coach or manager. He is not a famous manager in the end. His income depends on the athlete’s career and victories. No wonder why he put so much pressure on his celebrity. Thus I had the following revelation: he was actually exposing his true self in front of the doctor at the restaurant. (chapter 43) Joo Jaekyung would have to pick himself up, Park Namwook wouldn’t be there in order to assist him. Why? It is because it represented his own fears. Don’t forget that he is a former wrestler and athlete. He must have experienced it. The end of his boy’s career represents the end of his own career. Hence I am suspecting that the real savior of Park Namwook was the fighter himself, as the latter offered him an opportunity to find a good job.

But there is more to it. Why did the coach neglect doctor Kim Dan (chapter 40) in the States and even at the gym? (Chapter 43) It is because he doesn’t view the uke as a possession contrary to his „boy“. Why? It is because the young man doesn’t bring money or contribute to boast the manager’s self-esteem. In fact, Kim Dan is an expensive PT and the manager is aware of his high salary. Moreover, contrary to the hamster, Park Namwook was never seen in the penthouse, and the celebrity refused to invite the members. This is a clue that the champion could have refused to invite his coach there. The doctor’s stay at the penthouse is something Park Namwook discovered by accident. (Chapter 22) And now, it is important to recall that in the mode of Having, rivalry and competition are predominant. Therefore I deduce that deep down, the coach and manager sensed the physical therapist as a source of threat and rival. Therefore Jinx-philes shouldn’t be surprised that the coach did nothing to keep Kim Dan. (Chapter 53) Here his gestures and words should be judged as lip-services. He can even rationalize his departure: bad luck, they save a lot of money, for the next PT will have a lower salary. In addition, Kim Dan was treated as the celebrity’s possession, therefore he used him as a tool in order to compensate the actor. The manager is definitely imagining that once the break ends, things will work like before. (Chapter 53) Here, I feel the need to add that though I am portraying the coach in a rather pejorative light, I am not saying that he is a malicious or evil man. My point is that he needs to change and realize his wrong-doings. As long as he lives in this mode, he won’t be able to be happy: always in the fear of losing his possessions. So should a separation take place, it is possible that the distance brings more clarity and helps them to improve their relationship. However, I have to admit that I wished to witness a real argument between the hyung and his pupil. A new version of this scene: (chapter 17)

Interesting is that the sociologist stated this as well:

With this observation, it becomes comprehensible why the coach not only used violence against the athlete but also pushed the main lead to be rough with his own body. (Chapter 43) It is not random that Mingwa showed a rough manager while complaining about his star. She was implying his responsibility for mistreating his body in this scene. Park Namwook needed to prove his superiority over the celebrity to justify his position. And he used the fighter’s good heart, trust in him and social norms to manipulate his prize and possession. As a conclusion, both characters have a toxic relationship, exactly like between the halmoni and Kim Dan.

But Kim Dan was not different from the manager. He also lived in the mode of “having”. Hence once he earned money, he would buy gifts to others: (chapter 41) In his eyes, possessions and money determine someone’s values. Hence he bought an expensive keychain for his fated partner. Furthermore, I have been wondering if this spending is not related to Shin Okja, the latter could have been a spendthrift. In the essay „Click 📸: Between Fleeting illusions and Enduring Realities“ I had outlined that all the objects in the flat would belong to the grandmother (Chapter 19). Another possibility is that she made sure that her grandchild would spend money on her: (chapter 41) And this brings me to my next important revelation. The grandmother never said thank you to Kim Dan. She either apologizes (chapter 53 ) or makes it sound like a reproach „Spoil me to death“. There is no THANK YOU. She didn‘t give him her hand like in episode 22 with the celebrity as well. But there is another detail that caught my attention: the nurse mentioned the paid bills (chapter 22) after the departure of Joo Jaekyung, but notice how the halmeoni thanked the benefactor: (Chapter 22) She didn’t express the reason for her gratefulness. She didn‘t bring up the hospital bills, but she knew about it. In other words, when she showed her gratitude, she was in reality just thanking him for his company. That‘s how Kim Dan perceived it first and we should do it as well. To conclude, the grandmother is not really thankful, when it comes to money. Exactly like the manager, she takes it for granted. In fact, she gave him the yoghurt which was offered by the hospital. (chapter 21) One might argue that the poor woman couldn’t do much to express her gratitude. However, this is just a deception. Shin Okja could have written a letter to express her gratitude to Joo Jaekyung. Why do you think Mingwa created two scenes with a letter or card? (chapter 45) (chapter 53) The comparison lets transpire the importance of words. The champion might have judged the keychain differently, if he had read the card. But he didn’t. Another parallel between these two scenes is the rejection of a gift! However, in the final episode, Kim Dan voiced genuine gratitude towards his benefactor. The latter had allowed him to work as his PT. With the letter, he could voice his thoughts and emotions much better. And now, you realize that Shin Okja could have acted the same way. This made me realize that deep down, she resents being poor. She likes Dan spending money on her. (Chapter 41) Despite her rebuke she actually doesn’t meant it. She never actually told him to stop or rejected Joo Jaekyung‘s generosity. Instead, she made the following request to her grandson: (chapter 41). He should treat the sportsman nicely (“do good”). Kim Dan is the one who should be indebted to Joo Jaekyung. However, observe what she said in front of her grandchild before: she was the one who was grateful to the main lead, and not Kim Dan!! (chapter 41) She should have been the one who expressed her gratitude to Joo Jaekyung, but not Kim Dan for the trip (it was work related anyway). One might argue that the poor woman is trapped in the hospital, she can not do much. But you are wrong. She could have written a letter to her benefactor which means that she would have sacrificed some of her time for the athlete. Imagine that she had sent a message to the athlete, the latter might have decided to pay a visit to her. He is not truly heartless. With this silence, she created the impression that his assistance had changed her situation.

As you can see, she delegated her “gratitude” to her relative. Hence no wonder why Kim Dan chose to work hard for the keychain. He had to “work hard” in order to repay the huge debt (the trip to the States, the hospital). That’s why I come to the conclusion that the grandmother doesn’t represent true gratitude. She is similar to her male version: putting the responsibility on others and using words as lip-services. Simultaneously, this new discovery exposes another cause for her own suffering: she was also living in the mode of „having“. As my avid readers can notice, all the characters in Jinx were living the wrong way.

And this brings me to another aspect: Kim Dan’s diploma as physical therapist. In the having mode, education is centered on acquisition and possession of information. Knowledge is seen as something to be accumulated, memorized, and quantified—often in terms of grades, certificates, or degrees. Hence the doctor thought for a brief moment to take a MMA trainer seminar. (chapter 22)

Focus on Outcomes Over Process: Success in the having mode is defined by external achievements, grades, or credentials, rather than by actual understanding or personal growth.

Competitive Learning: Students are encouraged to see education as a competitive endeavor, where success often involves outperforming others rather than cooperating or collaborating.

Dependency on External Tools: This mindset can make students more prone to relying on shortcuts like cheating or using AI to complete assignments without really engaging with the material. In this context, tools like AI might be used to bypass learning rather than deepen understanding, reducing education to a means to an end.

Lack of Internal Motivation: The focus on external validation makes intrinsic motivation scarce. This dependency on external rewards may undermine creativity, critical thinking, and the desire for genuine understanding, as students prioritize “having knowledge” over “being knowledgeable.”

Kim Dan was not a proud PT. In fact, he had no problem to take a job as a courier. For him, the diploma was just a piece of paper. Why? It is because he was not truly motivated to become a PT. His choice was influenced by his halmoni and his financial situation. He was doing it for the money: (chapter 1) In other words, he was not passionate about his profession. This means that he didn’t define himself as PT due to his lack of engagement and low self-esteem. Besides, let’s not forget that he judges people based on their social status and seniority. I would even add, the main lead had not recognized the existence of his own skills (knowledge, genuineness and dedication). But by working for Joo Jaekyung, he came to enjoy his job. This explicates why he kept buying books. (chapter 53) He likes not only his job now, but also learning as such. This is no coincidence that education in the mode of “being” means that the focus is on learning and developing skills. Hence I still see a change in the hamster at the end of season 1: (chapter 53) He is defining himself by his skills: he is a PT!! Money plays no longer a role. He is about to live in the mode of „being“.

However, there are other students in Jinx. Fromm’s explanations about human psychology made me realize why many members from Team Black left the gym soon after the champion’s loss and bad PR: (chapter 52) In this panel, the author let us see glimpses of their motivation and thoughts. For them, the champion has nothing to teach them, since he lost his title and is injured. This shows that they are only interested in the outcome, success and as such fame, but not in the process, how to become skilled! In other words, they see “success” as a possession. He has no title, then he has nothing to offer. They are all living in the mode of having, which can only lead to misery and even self-destruction. No wonder why they were not too upset or shocked, when they heard that the game had been rigged. But what led them to make such a decision?

Naturally, the manager played a huge role in this. The gym gave the impression that by being by the athlete’s side, they would become successful as well. Park Namwook contributed to this wrong evolution, for he didn’t confront the fighters with reality: he made false promises. (chapter 23) Then he only focused on the “outcome” and not on the process. Hence he neglected them, delegated his task on the pressured athlete. The latter had to train them: (chapter 25) and (chapter 36) In my eyes, he didn’t want to play the bad guy. The meeting or his worries were more important (chapter 36) than their training and career. Moreover, he kept bribing them with junk food (chapter 26) or new jackets or towels. He was only interested in getting new members, but not in developing their skills. This explains why he treated Seonho so well: (chapter 46) The latter was a new source of income and fame. Everything was revolving around money. That’s how it dawned on me why the manager got angry for the bet in episode 26: (chapter 26) We shouldn’t judge his words as a verity, he was just using the doctor as a false excuse. The reality is that the sparring had brought no money at all! This fight was strongly intertwined with fun. The notion of „entertaining“ stands in opposition to money. Fun means feeling emotions and being to true one’s self. In other words, Kim Dan stands for a different notion of MMA fighting: the sportsmen shouldn’t work for money, but for fun. They are artists too. This signifies that as time passed on, the members of Team Black lost their passion for fighting (chapter 26) and became more obsessed with possessions and fame. Potato and the remaining members represent the exceptions. They enjoyed the lessons despite the pain and struggles. The other members became dependent on external tools which led them to lose their integrity. To conclude, the reason for their disloyalty is that at the end, they had long internalized the mode of having and were just interested in getting successful.

3. 2. The Being Mode

In contrast, the “being” mode focuses on authentic self-expression, inner fulfillment, and experience rather than ownership. Key aspects include:

Living Authentically: People in the being mode derive meaning from their experiences, creativity, and actions, rather than from acquiring or possessing. That‘s why fun is so important. And who embodies fun in Jinx? Naturally Heesung (special episode2 ), but also Cheolmin (chapter 13) who likes making jokes. That‘s how I came to understand why Cheolmin appeared only one time in season 1. He will come to replace the manager: (chapter 13)

Dynamic Engagement: This mode emphasizes growth, spontaneity, and a deep, active engagement with life. Here, identity is fluid and self-renewing, driven by inner growth rather than external gains.

Connectedness and Compassion: Fromm sees the being mode as fostering a sense of unity with others and the world, as it’s grounded in compassion, shared experience, and a true sense of community.

The being mode fosters qualities like love, empathy, joy, and creativity, enabling individuals to experience life in a richer, more meaningful way.

Cheolmin stands for understanding and trust in humans. He criticized the man first, but he didn‘t imply that he had done it with bad intentions. Secondly, he believed his sunbae, (Chapter 13) when the latter denied his responsibility. This shows that the man doesn’t mistrust people. He has faith in humans. And in this short scene, the doctor shows alle positive notions mentioned above: love, empathy, joy and creativity. Therefore I come to the following interpretation: he embodies the being mode. No wonder why he was not present in season 1. The main lead was definitely obsessed with work. Hence the moment Cheolmin’s path crosses Kim Dan’s, the funny doctor should become the hamster’s new role model.

3. 3. The Larger Philosophical Context

Fromm’s philosophy reflects a critique of modern consumerism and materialism, which, in his view, has led society towards the having mode. He argues that this mode is ultimately destructive, as it alienates individuals from their true selves and from others. The being mode, on the other hand, aligns with the principles of humanistic and existential philosophy, emphasizing the pursuit of self-actualization, meaning, and interconnectedness.

Fromm warns that without a shift from “having” to “being,” society risks falling into moral and psychological decay, driven by the insatiable quest for possessions and power. And we can observe this in Jinx. MFC and the medical world (chapter 48) are full of greedy people who have no problems to commit crimes in order to achieve their goals (more fame, more wealth, revenge, more connections). Baek Junmin became a champion by cheating. (Chapter 49) Thus he thought, the athlete had earned his title the same way. His fights were rigged, yet the verity is that the idol worked hard to achieve this level. The irony is that The Gunshot experienced much too late that his assumption was wrong. (Chapter 52) His shaking is exposing his fears. Like mentioned in the past, I am anticipating that The Shotgun will avoid a new fight with the celebrity.

Thus I interpret these two panels from Mingwa like this: They embody the mode of being. The hands are touching each other directly. They are not attached by money. Moreover, the hands express positive emotions and thoughts: support, gratitude, honesty, tenderness, acceptance and more importantly trust and fun. They are enjoying the present moment. Mingwa announced with these images the happy ending for these two characters who thought that they were jinxed. The reality is that they were responsible for their own misery.

This work urges a reassessment of values and priorities, where personal growth and human connection take precedence over material wealth and social status. And that’s where Joo Jaekyung is standing now. (chapter 53) He is standing at a crossroad. What does he truly want in life? Fame? More money? Or happiness and as such love and fun?

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: Sound Of Water 🏖️ (third version)

The countdown for season 2 is running. The author and Lezhin announced that chapter 54 will be released on November 22nd. 🎉 Almost exactly one year after the start of the first season.

A great thank you to @Rin_de_eegana who provided me with the original Haikus. Hence the English translation was changed.

Initially, I desired to release this essay , but as always I didn’t anticipate the effort and energy involved in the composition. Thus I decided to publish the essay “Sound Of Water” first, as it is much easier to write (less literature to read). The trigger for this essay are Haikus which I discovered in a recently published French Book entitled “Le bruit de l’eau” (Sound of water). And now, you know the origin for this essay. As you can see, the collection of Haikus is focusing on the topic “Water”. Since I only possess the French version of Haikus, I could only give you my own English translation. Fortunately, my friend @Rin_de_eegana was able to find the original version, Japanese. Therefore in the second version, I am giving a second English translation whích gave me new insight once again. Anyway, the thing is that as soon as I read certain poems, it made me think of Jinx and the characters. This shows my obsession for this terrific Manhwa.

1. Haikus and nature

On the other hand, you might be wondering how the Korean Manhwa is connected to Haikus and to water as well. In order to answer to this question, it is first necessary to present the characteristics of a Haiku.

1. 1. Characteristics of a Haiku:

  1. Syllable Structure: Traditionally, a haiku consists of three lines following a 5-7-5 syllable pattern. This means the first line has 5 syllables, the second line 7, and the third line 5. However, in modern haiku, especially in non-Japanese contexts, this structure can be more flexible.
  2. Seasonal Reference (Kigo): Classic haikus often include a reference to nature or a specific season, known as a kigo. This ties the poem to the natural world and evokes a sense of time or environment.
  3. Juxtaposition (Kireji): There is typically a contrast or shift in perspective, often marked by a cutting word (kireji) in Japanese. This brings two images or ideas into sharp focus, inviting the reader to connect them in a meaningful way.
  4. Present Moment (Awareness): Haikus capture a single moment in time with brevity and clarity. The poet seeks to express the essence of an experience, often related to nature, through minimalistic yet vivid language.
  5. Subjectivity and Simplicity: The poem is usually personal, expressing the poet’s direct experience or observation in a simple, unsentimental manner.

If you read all my previous analyses about Jinx, you are already aware that in this story, Mingwa has been portraying the city as a place full of corruption and estrangement. Yet the main leads are slowly reconnecting to their own true nature thanks to each other. Furthermore, the Webtoonist is stating through Jinx that fame or wealth are no real source of happiness, rather love and fulfilment. Thus the champion is suffering from depression, insomnia and anger issues. Finally, through her characters, it becomes clear that they need to learn how to “enjoy the moment”. That’s how they will come to love life and stop living like ghosts. That’s how they will learn how to live a good life. And that’s exactly what a Haiku is conveying too. The latter is often linked to the concept of “enlightenment” and “carpe diem” (seizing the day), though not always in an overt way. Many haikus emphasize the fleeting nature of life or the ephemeral beauty of a single moment—key elements of the carpe diem philosophy. The seasonal references, especially to autumn or falling leaves, often remind readers of life’s transience (ephemerality) encouraging an appreciation of the present moment before it passes. For example, a haiku may evoke the beauty of cherry blossoms in spring (a symbol of both renewal and impermanence) or describe the changing of seasons to highlight the inevitability of change and decay, which can be interpreted as a quiet call to embrace life while we can.

In essence, haikus share with carpe diem the philosophy of mindfulness—appreciating the now because it is fleeting. And now, you comprehend why the French book about Haikus is containing poems about water. Since the illustration is showing the sea, , anyone will think immediately of the ocean. But where is the sea in Jinx?

1. 2. Blue and Boundary

It was implied in chapter 14/15 with the doctor’s trip to Busan, a city which is situated on the Southern coast. (chapter 14) Yet, the main lead never got the chance to see it. Then the ocean is only mentioned directly at the end of the first season. The halmeoni was expressing her wish to return to the West Coast (chapter 53) where she hoped to see a beautiful ocean one more time. (chapter 53) When she was 10 years old, she was moved by how the ocean changed colors with the beautiful sunset. It was no longer blue or grey, but yellow, red, pink, orange and purple. This wonderful but brief moment left such a deep impression on her that she could never forget it. (chapter 53) She never came to regret her walk to the beach, because this souvenir also became her source of strength. This memory created in her the desire to see it again, thus she kept postcards with views of the ocean. (chapter 17)

In addition, I believe that the mesmerizing view also made her forget everything: her worries or her family. (chapter 53) Hence she remained immobile and silent in front of the amazing view. We could say, she felt totally engulfed by the ocean in fire, forgetting herself in the brilliant glow of the sunset as if she were becoming one with the view. This interpretation reinforces my perception about the intention behind the halmeoni’s wish: escapism from reality. She believes that with such a view, she will forget her terminal disease and even her pain, as though it will help her to live longer.

But there is another reason why she was so affected which I discovered with this Haiku written by Santoka:

French EnglishJapanese
“Me voilà
là où le bleu de la mer
est sans limite.”
“Here I am,
where the blue of the sea
knows no bounds.”
New translation:
I am here now,
in the boundless blue
of the sea.”
われ今ここに
海の青さのかぎりなし

The Haiku evokes a profound sense of openness and freedom, often reflecting a Zen-inspired approach to nature and self-awareness. Since the ocean embodies infinity and timelessness, the observer “Here I am” is remembering through the beautiful view of the ocean of his own limit: mortality. At the same time, the contrast encourages the “Here I am “ not only to meditate. It also motivates the person to grow, to push away his own limits. Why? It is because the boundless blue sea symbolizes both the vastness of nature and the limitless potential of the self, inviting reflection on life’s expansive and uncontainable aspects. The sea here represents a place beyond the limits of ordinary concerns, not as a void but as openness and infinite potential. This limitless “blue” suggests an escape from the mundane, a place for self-discovery, and the eternal flow of time, reminiscent of the Buddhist idea of impermanence. As a conclusion, this haiku captures a moment of complete presence within the vastness of nature. The poet stands before the limitless blue of the sea, feeling both awe and a sense of unity with its expansiveness. The phrase “I am here now” grounds the poet in the present (ephemerality), whereas “boundless blue” emphasizes the sea’s infinite reach, a powerful symbol for freedom, mystery, or eternity. The haiku suggests an experience of feeling both small and deeply connected within the immense, unending beauty of the natural world.

As you can sense, this poem captures the “now,” encouraging readers to embrace a moment as fleeting as the sea’s endless horizon, thus aligning with “carpe diem.” Shin Okja must have felt free, peaceful and powerful in that moment. As you can imagine, as soon as I saw this picture with the poem, I couldn’t help myself thinking about Kim Dan. In front of the sea, the PT should find his true self: no boundary… like the sea! In front of the sea, he could get more self-awareness and realize that he is also strong. In season 1, people could sense his low self-esteem. So by being next to nature (sea, trees), he could regain his self-confidence. In other words, I believe that his journey to the sea will affect him deeply too, though he has no expectation at all.

Is it a coincidence that his silhouette (chapter 53) is glowing blue? I don’t think so. Let’s not forget that blue symbolizes wood for Koreans. The sea (water) and a tree (chapter 41) are the doctor’s true elements. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why under the tree, he came to acknowledge his feelings for the athlete. In addition, if Kim Dan gets close to water, this signifies that he will get replenished and truly nourished. And notice that during season 1, he never ate properly.

But this doesn’t end here. The poem also reminded me of Joo Jaekyung: (chapter 53) He is standing in front of the blue city. But he doesn’t feel free and powerful. Why? There is a window in front of him. The window is showing him his own boundaries. His penthouse is like a cage, and he is not truly dominating the city. In reality, he is isolated. To conclude, the panel stands in opposition to the Japanese poem and the grandmother’s vision: alienation, regret and powerlessness. So we should write the haiku like this, from the champion’s perspective:

“Here I am,
where the blue of the city
knows my limits.”

In Seoul, he is now portrayed as a thug and loser. Since the image contradicts the original haiku from Santoka, this means that the moment in front of the window embodies not self-awareness, but the opposite: obliviousness, ignorance, or even self-deception. These terms imply a lack of insight into his own thoughts, feelings, or actions, which led him misunderstand or misjudge Kim Dan. Similarly, the opposite of peace of mind can be described as anxiety, distress, or turmoil, which are states marked by worry, unease, or mental unrest, often resulting from unresolved conflicts or lack of clarity. Thus the fighter can not express his emotions and thoughts properly. (chapter 53) Together, these opposites suggest a state of inner turmoil or confusion, where a person lacks clarity about both themselves and the world around them, which can inhibit personal growth and well-being. And this is exactly how the main lead feels in the final panel of season 1.

Thus it dawned on me that both characters could make a beautiful experience in front of the ocean in fire. How so? I realized that the grandmother never shared this experience with her grandson before. She kept this beautiful moment as a secret (chapter 53) which is the exact opposite to Santoka. By writing the haiku, the author desired to share his thoughts and emotions, and encourage his readers to meditate and to feel this freedom and peacefulness. Thus I am expecting that both characters will go to the ocean together and that’s how the latter will get closer to each other. Their intimacy will improve not just through clear and direct communication, but also through shared experiences. However, we shouldn’t imagine that they will make the exact same experience than Shin Okja, as each person is different. Furthermore, they could go there to a divergent season or time, hence the nature of the ocean could be different:

Like this Haiku from Amari Ôki

French EnglishJapanese
Loin d’être
aussi calme qu’un mort
la mer hivernale !
“Far from being
as calm as the dead,
the winter sea!”
New translation:
There is no ease of death
in the winter sea.
死ぬといふ やすらぎ
冬の海になし

The French version of this haiku contrasts the common image of calmness with the intense energy of the winter sea. By comparing it to the dead, the poet suggests that even in the cold and desolate season, the sea is dynamic, restless, and alive—defying the stillness and finality of death. This evokes a sense of nature’s persistent vitality, even in winter’s harshest state. The constant, unrelenting waves of the winter sea indeed suggest an image of persistence and ceaseless motion contrasting with the sleeping nature in winter. This naturally made me think of the grandmother’s death, who might have vanished, but she remains present in the heart and mind of the main leads. In front of a changing and vigorous sea, the beholder is also reminded of his own life and mortality.

However, the Japanese version and the second English translation gives a totally different interpretation. The « winter sea » conveys a vision of death that is neither gentle nor peaceful, but rather restless and intense, like the winter sea itself. In this image, the cold, churning waters of winter contrasts with the idea of a calm, serene end. The winter sea embodies a relentless, almost haunting energy, where waves are constantly breaking and crashing, echoing a sense of turmoil rather than tranquility.

This interpretation suggests that, just as the winter sea is harsh and unyielding, so too might death be something that doesn’t bring the expected ease or comfort. It reflects an unsettling vision of nature and existence, where peace is elusive and even death holds an enduring, untamed force. This means that once the halmeoni is facing the ocean, the latter could scare her, because she is reminded of her own death. She would be confronted with her own powerlessness and mortality, this can only reinforce her fears about death. Another possibility is that Kim Dan is triggered by this vision (don’t forget that he fears water: (chapter 27) Like mentioned above, the beholder in front of the ocean can have a different experience than the young girl.

2. The grandmother’s confession

Let’s return our attention to Shin Okja’s childhood and magical moment once again. (chapter 53) What caught my attention is the vocabulary employed to describe her past life is revolving around “chaos”, “urgency” and “race against time: “to evacuate” and “so hectic”. (chapter 53) Thus I deduce that in that moment, she must have felt at peace. This explains why she could never forget this magic moment. However, her confession displays a deep regret as well: she couldn’t go back to the ocean. I would even add that she is portraying herself as a person who had no control over her life. It was either « we » or « life ». Through her words, we can sense her passivity, but also her victim mentality. It was not her fault that she couldn’t go back to the ocean. She never had the opportunity to do so!! She never had missed her chance. She is denying the existence of a missed chance or timing. After reading the description of her past life, I am quite certain that my avid readers can recognize the similarities between the athlete and the halmeoni’s destiny. Until his defeat, Joo Jaekyung had no time either. He was also racing against time. However, there exists one divergence between them: the chance to make the right decision. This means that the champion has now the opportunity to take a break. Furthermore, he also has one chance to get back the doctor, but he shouldn’t miss it.

This quote underlines the importance of awareness and self-knowledge in seizing opportunities and making meaningful choices. Fromm frequently discussed how individuals miss chances for genuine self-fulfillment because they are distracted by external pressures or conformist habits, thereby losing touch with the pivotal moments that could bring change and growth. Thus I deduce that Shin Okja is not truly honest to herself and her grandchild. She must have had a chance at some point, but she made the wrong decision. Thus she portrays herself as a victim of circumstances. There is no doubt that contrary to Shin Okja, the athlete won’t miss his second chance and will change for the better.

However, we shouldn’t forget that with her request, the grandmother is making a rush decision in reality. She is not taking her time to reflect if her desire to go to the West coast is a good thing. Like I wrote in the previous analysis Click : Between Fleeting illusions and Enduring Realities, she got definitely deceived by this brochure: (chapter 53) Furthermore, she is imagining that she can make the same experience again. But this is just an illusion, like the Greek philosopher Heraclitus explained it:

Heraclitus uses the river as a metaphor to show that everything is in constant flux. Just as the water in a river is always moving, flowing from one place to another, everything in life is always changing—from our thoughts, feelings, and bodies to the external world. This idea (“everything flows”) points to his belief that nothing remains static or permanent.

Yes, Shin Okja is no longer the 10 years old child. She needs someone by her side to go to the beach. (chapter 53) Secondly, I doubt that the beautiful view could make her forget her suffering. Finally, let’s not forget that for one single moment, she will spend many days in a hospice, where she will be surrounded by dying people. Furthermore, the image of the ocean could generate a different feeling: torment like mentioned above. She is expecting to make the same experience, but the opposite could happen. She gets terrified and tormented. Therefore I have the impression that the grandmother might come to regret her past decision. But contrary to the past, she can not blame the others (« we ») or life, as it was her own choice and request! Therefore I deduce that in the past, she let others make decisions for herself, like we could see it with her expensive treatment. She listened to Kim Dan and the oncologist. (Chapter 7) And we could see that Joo Jaekyung had a similar attitude in season 1, he would listen to his hyungs and the people working for MFC. Consequently, I come to the following deduction: this time, the fighter will make the decision on his own. He won’t follow Park Namwook’s advice: (chapter 53) The latter is asking him to simply wait and to rely on him. Joo Jaekyung will take the matter into his own hands, the exact opposite attitude to the beginning of season 1.

3. Regret and Water

As you can see, thanks the first two haikus, I got a much better understanding of the characters from Jinx. However, the biggest revelation came with another haiku. Water comes under different forms, like a river, a waterfall or rain. Therefore the book contains the following haiku written by Ryokan Taigu.

French EnglishJapanese
Jour après jour
Tombe la bruine –
La vieillesse me saisit
“Day after day
The misty rain falls—
Old age grips me.”
New translation based on the Japanese version:
Day by day,
as the winter rain falls,
people grow old.”
日々日々に
時雨の降れば
人老いぬ (Thanks to @rinsan)

This haiku reflects the passage of time and the inevitability of aging, with the winter rain symbolizing the steady, unstoppable rhythm of nature that mirrors life’s transient nature. The imagery of rain falling “day by day” emphasizes the gradual, almost unnoticed progress of time that ultimately leads to aging. Despite the slight change in the translation, it doesn’t affect my revelation and new interpretation. Thanks to this poem, I had suddenly realized two aspects. First, the fall and winter in Jinx symbolize the dying Shin Okja. The seasons are mirroring the aging and the changes. This means that we should expect her death either in fall or in winter. I am opting more for fall due to the rain, though the poem from Amari Ôki is connecting death to winter. Why? Striking is that in season 1, Mingwa always showed us a beautiful weather. The sun was always present following the main lead, (chapter 1) (chapter 47) (chapter 47) even when the doctor was confronted with the truth about his terminally ill grandmother. The sun was always shining brightly. Since in the haiku from Ryokan Taigu, the rain is associated with old-age and fall (misty), it dawned on me that the rain should be associated with the grandmother’s death. If this comes true, it was, as though the sky and gods were weeping for her vanishing. Additionally, the first season took place in Spring and Summer, thus I deduce that season 2 will take place around late summer, fall and winter. This means that the weather should change. And this remark led to my second revelation. I started looking for South Korea’s climates, particularly I was curious about the climate on the West Coast.

Should they move to the beige region on the West coast, this signifies that it will rain more often, especially in the Summer. 😮

As you can see, late Summer and fall in South Korea are strongly linked to rain and even typhoons😨. And we would have a possible explanation about the circumstances for the vanishing of Kim Dan’s parents and his fear of water. Imagine this. By returning to the West Coast and as such by reconnecting to her past, the doctor’s past and his parents’ vanishing will certainly come back to the surface. Don’t forget that his parents were never brought up in season 1.

But let’s return our attention to my previous observation. The weather and as such nature could decide not to fulfil her wish. Due to the rain or a tempest, she is not able to go to the beach. She didn’t take the season into consideration, a sign that she didn’t truly ponder on her decision. This would explain why we had no bad weather in season 1, for her grandchild was fulfilling all her desires. Moreover, since the halmeoni lived for quite some time at the hospital, there is no ambiguity that she came to forget the seasons. She only remembers the ocean on a beautiful day. And now, look at the following picture: (chapter 19) the presence of pink and purple hydrangeas indicates that it was taken in Summer. This new approach reinforces my perception that the grandmother is about to get confronted with harsh reality despite her attempts to escape from it. Her wish can not be fulfilled so easily, like she is imagining it. In addition, Manhwa-philes should keep in their mind that weather has a great influence on elderly people’s health.

It is not just about heat or cold, even rain can increase their pain (arthritis for example) or bring them infections. Here, I found an article showing the great impact of the monsoon on seniors. https://www.patientsengage.com/healthy-living/managing-older-adults-health-rains-monsoon

This observation leads me to even conclude that her move to the West Coast could in reality accelerate her death. 😮And now, I am adding the picture which was placed next to the haiku from Ryokan.

We have an elderly man walking through the rain in front of the blue sea. The latter is accompanied with a Waka-poem from Yoshihiro (which was not translated). According to my Japanese friend @Rin_de_eegana (飯乞ふと 里にも出でず この頃は 時雨の雨の 間なくし降れば), this phrase describes a situation where one cannot even go out to the village to beg for alms due to the long rain. Here, we have the topic of poverty linked to old-age and rain. Yes, the pages of this book reminded me of Shin Okja, a poor elderly woman who is so sick. And like mentioned above, the rain could be the reason why the woman doesn’t go to the beach. The two poems are underlining one important aspect: the powerlessness of humans in front of nature. No one can stop aging, just like no one can control the weather. At the same time, it outlines the importance for a senior to be surrounded by people, so that they don’t end up dying from dehydration, from a cold or hypothermia.

4. Tears and rain

In the part above, I presented the following expectation: the day of the grandmother’s death is strongly intertwined with the rain. The drops from the sky should be seen as a metaphor for tears. But I have another evidence for this prediction. My avid readers should keep in their mind that Mingwa’s story is written like a kaleidoscope, like an eternal circle. Thus scenes are always reflecting each other. This means, the author left traces of the rain in season 1. And where were they? In the bathroom (chapter 47) (chapter 49) Both main leads went to the restroom in order to hide their emotional turmoil and suffering. They used flowing water (in Joo Jaekyung’s case the shower) in order to cover the sound of their weeping: SHAAA. Yes, the tears are making sound… so the rain should make sound as well. And this brings me to my next remark. (chapter 53) When she mentioned this beautiful experience to Kim Dan, she was only focusing on the mesmerizing view: a colorful ocean. Thus the author zoomed on her eyes and blushing cheeks. However, she didn’t pay attention to the sound of the ocean. Yes, the waves are making sound. Thus the author zoomed on her eyes and blushing cheeks, but her ears are not really visible. Moreover, her memory is presented without a sound. (chapter 53) There is only silence, whereas in reality, this is how the ocean sounds:

If you pay attention to the title of this video, you will see that sea waves are used to help people to relax and to fall asleep!! Thus I am inclined to think that the champion will discover the true power of nature in front of the Yellow sea. The sound of the waves will help him to overcome his insomnia. In season 1, the author implied the existence of a connection between the sea waves and his insomnia in the champion’s life : (Chapter 29) Remember how I had described this panel. The fighter feared to be swallowed by the darkness, to drown because of the many opponents. The fighters are placed like waves. Thus the celebrity could decide to change his career (to become a fighter like Dominic Hill who selects his own fighters) and move to the countryside in order to live a better life. And this brings me to my last haiku composed by Suéko Fujii

French English
Le bruit de l’eau
éclairé par la lune
plus intense
“The sound of water
illuminated by the moon—
more intense.”

In this haiku, the poet highlights how moonlight not only illuminates but enhances perception, sharpening the experience of nature’s sounds. The moonlight doesn’t physically alter the water, but it creates an atmosphere that heightens the beholder’s awareness, making the sound seem richer or more intense. This effect reveals the power of the night and the way natural elements interact, transforming something ordinary into something profound. The haiku suggests a quiet moment of immersion where the listener becomes deeply attuned to the surrounding world, connecting to the peaceful yet amplified rhythm of nature. As a conclusion, the poet becomes engulfed by the moon’s illumination and the ocean’s sound, as if fully absorbed into this heightened sensory experience. The moonlight and the intensified sound draw the poet into a deep, almost meditative state, where each element—the visual of the moon and the sound of the water—merges, enveloping him completely. This poem represents a reflection of the grandmother’s experience, though the latter diverges slightly. She didn’t focus on the sound. And look at the drawing next to the haiku. We have a room with a view! Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why I am already envisaging that Joo Jaekyung moves to the countryside. As you can envision it, the Haiku from Suéko Fujii triggered my imagination.

Joo Jaekyung is getting his enlightenment during the night in front of the sea, and who is standing in front of the ocean? Naturally, it can only be Kim Dan who stands for the moon!! A new version of these two blue nights: (chapter 29) (chapter 35) The blue would be a reference to the ocean. After that couch confession night, the athlete got a certain enlightenment, hence he tried to get closer to Kim Dan the next morning . (chapter 30) In episode 35, the night stands for ignorance and self-deception, for the doctor was not present. Joo Jaekyung reverted to his old self. However, don’t forget that the haiku was not just about the moon light, but also about the sound of the waves. All the senses are awakened which represents a better experience than the grandmother’s. Moreover, since I am anticipating the presence of Kim Dan, this means that Kim Dan embodies not only the light in the dark, but also sound of water. This interpretation brings me to the following remark. In season 1, the athlete had already associated his fated partner to “sound”, though in the beginning he viewed it as noise (chapter 18) and as a source of stress and worries. (chapter 45) This means that the night view of the ocean should make him discover the beauty of the sound of water. He will come to associate the sound of the sea waves with Kim Dan. That’s how he will be able to fall asleep. In other words, I am expecting a new version of this scene: (chapter 47) To conclude, Joo Jaekyung will also have an Enlightenment in front of the ocean, but contrary to the grandmother, this experience will be associated with the night, the sound and a person: his soulmate Kim Dan.

That’s it. I hope you enjoyed reading this composition. If yes, let me know if I should write a similar essay with haikus which are focusing on a different topic, like for example flowers, food etc.

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: Magic 7️⃣: Navigating between Jinx and Luck 🍀

Because of the selected images in the illustration, people might think that the focus of this essay is Potato, yet the real topic is the number 7. If you pay attention to the three pictures, you will realize that they come from 25, 34 and 52. 2+5= 7; 3+4= 7. All of these episodes have one common denominator: 7. But I could also include 18 or 29, because 1-8: -7; 2-9: -7. Yet, pay attention that here we would have the negative version of 7. In the analysis “The Magic Of Numbers“, I demonstrated that Mingwa had utilized Numerology in order to develop her story. Furthermore, I explained that Potato’s name number was 4, while 7 was a favorable number for him. Thus you comprehend why I picked pictures with him. Funny is that when chapter 52 was released, my theory was proven correct. 52 is a reference to 7, therefore we should compare episode 7, 16, 25, 34, 43 and 52 together in order to get new insight about the past and the present. At the same time, this will help us to anticipate episode 53. In episode 52, the Webtoonist created a mystery surrounding the doctor’s whereabouts and problem, (chapter 52) because she desired to push the readers to anticipate the champion’s future actions. What will he do? Striking is that she sowed a similar enigma in episode 7. The latter ended with this image: (chapter 7) Kim Dan had just punched his boss. How would he react to this wrongdoing? In fact, I realized that all the episodes with the number 7 are strongly connected to an intrigue and riddle. Why? The answer lies in the number. 😉 So what does 7 symbolize in the end?

1. The power of 7

The number 7 holds immense symbolic significance across a myriad of cultural, religious, and philosophical contexts, encompassing a diverse range of interpretations and associations. Let’s delve into some of the key symbolic meanings attributed to the number 7:

Spiritual Completeness and Perfection: The number 7 is often regarded as a symbol of spiritual completeness and perfection. It is associated with divine creation and the harmonious balance between the spiritual and material worlds. In ancient philosophy and mysticism, the concept of the “heptad” or sevenfold division represents the harmonization of spiritual principles with material realities. For example, the seven chakras in Hindu and Buddhist traditions symbolize the alignment of energy centers within the body, fostering holistic well-being and spiritual enlightenment.

Religious and Mythological References: Found extensively in religious texts and mythologies, the number 7 is a recurring motif in Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism. In Christianity, the number 7 is prominent throughout the Bible, symbolizing divine completion and perfection. For instance, God rested on the seventh day after creating the world (Genesis 2:2-3), and the Book of Revelation mentions seven seals, seven trumpets, and seven churches. In Judaism, seven holds sacred significance, representing divine completion and fulfillment. The seven-day week culminates in the Sabbath, a day of rest and spiritual rejuvenation. Additionally, the menorah in Jewish tradition has seven branches, symbolizing the light of God. Islamic tradition reveres the number 7, with references to seven heavens, seven gates of hell, and seven verses in the opening chapter of the Qur’an. During the Hajj pilgrimage, Muslims circumambulate the Kaaba seven times as an act of devotion.

Numerological Significance: Numerologists often interpret the number 7 as a symbol of spiritual insight, intuition, and inner wisdom. Individuals born under the influence of the number 7 are believed to possess heightened spiritual awareness and a deep connection to the unseen realms. The mystical qualities associated with the number 7 inspire seekers to embark on spiritual journeys of self-discovery and enlightenment.

However, it is important to know that people with number 7 possess negative personality features too. It depends on the balance.

This shows that such persons can bring also misery to others, especially due to their selfishness. And now, you comprehend why 7 can not necessarily bring luck.

Lucky and Mystical: Across many cultures, the number 7 is viewed as lucky and mystical. It is often associated with good fortune, positive outcomes, and hidden knowledge. In Western folklore, finding a four-leaf clover or encountering a rainbow with seven colors are seen as auspicious signs of good luck. Ancient cultures believed in the magical properties of the number 7. For example, in Babylonian mythology, the seven planets were associated with deities and celestial forces that influenced human destiny. The Seven Sisters, or Pleiades, star cluster in Greek mythology symbolizes the seven daughters of the Titan Atlas, who were transformed into stars by Zeus to escape the pursuit of Orion. The Pleiades were regarded as a guiding constellation for sailors and a harbinger of seasonal changes.

Mathematical and Geometrical Symbolism: In mathematics and geometry, the number 7 holds significance as a prime number and as a fundamental element in geometric patterns and structures. In sacred geometry, the number 7 is significant in geometric patterns such as the Seed of Life and Flower of Life, which represent the interconnectedness of all creation. These geometric symbols, composed of seven circles or spheres, embody the principle of spiritual completeness and perfection, reflecting the divine order inherent in the universe. I incorporated the Seed of Life in the illustration.

Musical and Educational Symbolism: In music theory and education, the number 7 is integral to understanding musical scales and educational curricula. It represents harmony, balance, and the pursuit of knowledge across various disciplines.

Cultural and Folklore References: The number 7 appears in numerous cultural and folklore references, such as the seven days of the week, the seven wonders of the world, and the seven deadly sins (pride, greed/avarice, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and laziness/sloth). It also features prominently in sayings, rituals, and traditional healing practices, like for example Seven-Day Cleansing Rituals. Many traditional healing traditions include rituals or ceremonies designed to cleanse the body, mind, or spirit of negative influences or imbalances. These cleansing rituals often span seven days, during which participants undertake purification practices such as fasting, prayer, meditation, or immersion in natural elements like water or fire. The seven-day duration is seen as a sacred period for releasing toxins, negative energies, or spiritual blockages, allowing for spiritual renewal and rejuvenation.

Overall, the number 7 embodies a rich tapestry of meanings and symbolisms, ranging from spiritual completeness and divine perfection to luck, mysticism, and mathematical elegance. Its universal resonance underscores its enduring significance as a symbol of harmony, wisdom, and transcendence across diverse cultures and traditions. Because 7 stands for spirituality and enlightenment, it becomes comprehensible why the chapters with number 7 are strongly connected to an enigma and mystery. Jinx-philes are encouraged to develop their critical thinking, to see beyond appearances. In addition, in the beginning of the story, Joo Jaekyung’s third eye was not existent, hence in episode 18, he couldn’t judge the situation related to the doctor’s assault correctly: (chapter 18) He believed to see someone selling his body to a loan shark, while in reality the main lead was about to get raped. Hence we have -7! This represents the absence of reflection and even the refusal of meditation. (chapter 18) On the other hand, the quotes above mentioned 14 or 21, because they are also related to 7 (multiplication). This signifies that we should also see chapters 14, 21, 28, 35, 42 and 49 as a reflection from number 7. Since the latter can be the result of an addition or substraction, I deduce that we should include the following numbers as a reflection of 7 as well: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9. Finally, if you read the analysis “”The Magic Of Numbers“, you know that I also contrasted the following chapters (7, 17, 27, 37, 47), for all of them contains a 7. This is what I found out: All of them were oozing suffering, prejudices, wrongdoing and fear, but also they are linked to water. Furthermore, I noticed that the increasing isolation of the doctor. First, he was surrounded by the fighters, (chapter 7), but the more he focused on the champion, the less the members paid attention to him. (chapter 47) He didn’t get included in the conversation. This explicates why when Kwak Junbeom witnessed the encounter between Choi Gilseok and Kim Dan, the sportsman didn’t approach the PT in order to protect him or his champion’s interest. (chapter 48) The connection between 7 and anguish in Jinx seems to contradict the notion of “lucky 7”. Yet we shouldn’t forget that through pain, the characters are incited to learn life lessons and become wiser. Torment led them to face their fears and reflect. Consequently, what appears as a jinx will turn into luck and blessing in reality. Like mentioned in the previous analysis, the 90 day suspension represents a liberation for the athlete, for he is no longer under pressure to fight constantly. He is pushed to meditate and view life differently, thus he is looking out of the window. (Chapter 52) He will realize that he needs to select his opponent more properly.

As a conlusion, we should see parallels between 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 14, 16, 17, 18, 21, 25, 27, 28, 29, 34, 35, 37, 42, 43, 47, 49 and 52. Let me give you another example: in only two episodes, we could see Park Namwook’s gaze, episode 5 and 52. Interesting is that in episode 5, the manager showed his indifference towards the doctor, as he was not urging him to take the job. (chapter 5) He remained passive, because he had already an answer to his silence. He was refusing the job. He implied that his lack of reaction had been caused by the champion’s action. In addition, he reproached his boss that he was getting worked up for nothing. His behavior displays that he saw no value in Kim Dan. Moreover, Mingwa left a clue why the man has always been passive all this time. It is not just a question of fear. The other reason is that he used prejudices and superficial thoughts to explain people’s attitude. Hence he never investigated the matter why the doctor didn’t contact them. His attitude in episode 52 hasn’t changed at all. (chapter 52) He reproaches to Joo Jaekyung his heartlessness, though Kim Dan took care of him for months. But he is forgetting that he spent himself time with the hamster too, and he is healthy contrary to the champion. So he could have reached to the doctor. His reproach is just an excuse to mask his passivity, ignorance and even indifference. His rudeness and neglect towards the doctor and athlete becomes more obvious.

As you can imagine, I can’t compare all these episodes together, as it represents a mammoth task. Hence the purpose of this analysis is to encourage my avid readers to detect the parallels and develop their own observations.

2. The 7 in the mirror

In order to facilitate my examination, I created a table where I added pictures which I perceived as relevant for the contrast.

Chapter 7Chapter 16Chapter 25Chapter 34Chapter 43Chapter 52


2. 1. Between invitation and defy

The presence of a challenge is pretty obvious in episode 25 and 34. The athlete invited Heesung and the doctor to learn something new. While for the doctor, the champion saw it as a game, the fighter was really serious with the actor. But the element (invitation and challenge) is also present in chapter 52, though this time, it is not the champion who is throwing a defy. Baek Junmin invited the champion to join his side with his remarks, (chapter 52). By mocking him, he was provoking Joo Jaekyung and he knew it. Yet, he never expected that he would be punched so violently that he would be KO. In episode 7, the champion “invited” the doctor to enter the shower room, (chapter 7), his words were actually an order that the poor doctor couldn’t refuse. He was even dragged under the shower (chapter 7) reminding us of the kidnapping in episode 16. Here, on the other hand, Heo Manwook must have judged his presence at doc Dan’s house as an “invitation” . (Chapter 16) and not trespassing. Each challenge or invitation is strongly connected to moving. Heesung had to drive through town in order to discover the secret between the two protagonists. Moreover, I distinguished another similarity: abduction and sequestration. Kim Dan was forced to stay in the shower room or his home or in the penthouse (34,43). Chapter 25 represents the exception, for it was the only case, where Kim Dan was given a real choice. (Chapter 25) He could refuse the sparring. Thus I deduce that in episode 52, the opposite is happening to the doctor. Something happened to him, and he could do nothing. On the other hand, this signifies that at the hospital, the members from Team Black were seeking the consent and support from their boss. (chapter 52) One detail caught my attention: the champion’s head is glowing exactly like in the last image from episode 25. Mingwa was indicating through this light the character’s illumination. The athlete is opening up his heart and mind to the doctor, a new version of this scene: (chapter 44) Kim Dan agreed to have sex with the fighter, because he wanted to know him better. Thus I deduce that the athlete discovered new aspects about Kim Dan’s life. (chapter 52) For me, this scene announces the moment when the celebrity drops all his prejudices about his destined partner.

2. 2. Missing loved one

Second parallel I detected is the absence or vanishing of important characters. In episode 7/8, no one except Oh Daehyun, noticed that Joo Jaekyung had gone to the shower room. (chapter 8) In 25 and 34, we never saw Park Namwook. He was either outside the gym or in his office. Then in episode 43, Potato was missing, but no one mentioned his absence. But I would even go further, all these chapters are strongly linked to the doctor’s vanishing. Notice that in episode 7, he got dragged to the shower room, but no one caught his disappearance, not even Park Namwook. (chapter 7) In episode 16, Kim Dan got abducted by Heo Manwook and his minions, yet no one intervened. It was, as if no one had noticed the crime. On the other hand, his absence got noticed, for he didn’t appear on time at the gym. This led the champion to ask his manager about his whereabouts. Hence the manager had to call him. Nonetheless, the coach used the excuse that Joo Jaekyung had brought him to his house, therefore he should fetch him. (chapter 16) Then in episode 25, no one saw Kim Dan training alone. It was, as if he was a ghost. (chapter 25) He received only attention, when he got strangled due to the maknae’s mistake and notice that the protagonist was too focused on training the others that he neglected his soulmate. Then in episode 34, Kim Dan was supposed to meet Choi Heesung, but he missed the appointment due to the athlete’s trick. (chapter 34) (chapter 34) Since the latter had not replied, Choi Heesung assumed that Kim Dan was not free. And now, you know why the actor never contacted the angel and asked about his whereabouts. The main lead never replied and confirmed the meeting. Then in episode 43, no one missed Kim Dan at the table, when they ate their dinner. (chapter 43) The remark “just let him be” is not the expression of concern, rather of indifference in the end. How so? It is because he is not included in the team. He is treated like an outsider. In other words, Kim Dan had never been the concern of the members from Team Black. Their interest was rather superficial, for they could receive treatment for free. And the best evidence is this scene: (chapter 52) Even Oh Daehyun didn’t realize that doc Dan had been missing. It is because he had never been a fighter. However, there’s no ambiguity that the young fighter must have felt horrible, when he realized his mistake. Hence he made such a shocked expression, when he heard the champion’s question: (chapter 52) Notice that coach Jeong Yosep is avoiding his gaze, while the manager has no eye. For me, all their expressions exposed their guilty conscience, only Potato was acting differently. Why? It is because he had met the doctor. But who was responsible for Kim Dan’s work and schedule? Park Namwook, as the latter was the one in charge of his contract. (chapter 5) So if the athlete had fired the physical therapist, he would have notified his manager. But he never did such a thing and the hyung knew it as well. In other words, Park Namwook was aware that Kim Dan had not been fired. Therefore he needed to find another excuse to put the blame on the star. (chapter 52) He had been too harsh and had not investigated the matter properly. However, his words “getting the facts straight” reminded me of this scene: (chapter 48) Kwak Junbeom had observed the encounter between these two men, and Kim Dan arrived to the gym certainly very late. (chapter 48) This should have caught the coach’s attention. In addition, it dawned on me that the fighter could have reported this meeting to the coach, saying that he would come late due to the other director, a new version of this scene: (chapter 11) So Park Namwook might have already been aware of this, which would explain why he felt uncomfortable, when he met Choi Gilseok.. (chapter 49) Remember that he had avoided him on purpose. And episode 49 is related to number 7. Hence we have this contrast: (chapter 49) “We believe in you” (chapter 52) This shows that the manager was hiding his true thoughts behind the masses of fans and fighters (“we”). And the moment his reputation is ruined, he is showing his true colors. He is only thinking of himself and his distress. (chapter 52) As you can see, we should question if Park Namwook had no idea about the meeting between Choi Gilseok and Kim Dan, but like the doctor, he never reported to the celebrity. Moreover, the manager was also responsible for the doctor’s schedule, for his work was strongly connected to the celebrity’s. (chapter 30) In this scene, we see that the doctor made a decision on his own, as he knew that he was not needed. Park Namwook should have asked why Kim Dan would join the gym later, if he had not been informed. As you can see, through the comparison, I realized Park Namwook’s huge wrongdoing. He didn’t miss doc Dan during that time, I would even say, he didn’t look for him. But he knows where he lives and he has his cellphone number. Like mentioned in a previous analysis, the vanishing of the coach and manager at the gym was exposing a professional mistake. (chapter 52) And funny is that as soon as I contrasted these episodes, I had another revelation. How did Joo Jaekyung know that Kim Dan was supposed to meet the actor? (chapter 34) Yes, this represented the huge enigma of 34! I believe to have found the answer. (chapter 34) It is because Choi Heesung must have contacted Park Namwook and made the request. He desires to receive a treatment from Kim Dan. Let’s not forget that Park Namwook had proposed this deal to the actor: (chapter 32) Kim Dan had no saying in it, the justification was that it was for the champion’s sake. Hence my assumption is the comedian must have complained to the manager that Joo Jaekyung had interrupted their time together. (chapter 32) The sly fox was aware that the celebrity would never dare to contradict his hyung. (chapter 31) That’s the reason why Park Namwook asked the doctor to fetch the celebrity in episode 34. (chapter 34) It was to inform him about Kim Dan’s schedule. For me, the idiom “discuss” was just a subterfuge, there was no discussion, only an order. The man with the spectacles announced to the main character in his office that Kim Dan would treat Choi Heesung this evening. Hence he should not interrupt the treatment session. That’s the reason why the protagonist had to play a trick. (chapter 34) Kim Dan could refuse to go to that meeting. He was not obligated, for there was no contract between the artist and the “hamster”. They had never asked for his consent. Choi Heesung used work to meet the doctor, but the manager had also heard from the actor’s manager about the comedian’s love life (chapter 30). So he must have known about the true intentions. The clue for this interpretation is that he had a drop of sweat on his face. To sum up, he feigned ignorance. And you know how I came to this theory? The coach is not visible in 34 and he didn’t assist to the champion’s birthday surprise party: (chapter 43) But he is his “boy”! Where was he? Only Yosep intervened. (chapter 43) Yet, Park Namwook joined them for the dinner at the restaurant. Only through the comparison, I detected the absence of the manager which I consider as a sign of his neglect. Yosep’s gesture (chapter 43) represents the positive gesture from Namwook’s slap.

And the moment I developed this new theory, it occurred to me why Potato was not present during the birthday party. It is because the sly fox had used the same tactic with Potato: work!! He must have approached Park Namwook and made his request. Why would he refuse? This would bring money to the gym. He could even refer to the invitation of the pure chow-chow: (chapter 35) He needed Potato to work off some stress. That’s why the reason why NO ONE wondered about the young fighter’s absence during the birthday party. (chapter 43) Moreover, we would have an explanation why Park Namwook was absent during that morning. For me, we should see Potato’s vanishing in 43 as a reflection from the doctor’s disappearance in 7. And the common denominator is: no one is looking for them.

2. 3. The doctor’s guardian

Thanks to the table, anyone can detect the increasing presence of Potato, while the grandmother was no longer present or mentioned after episode 16. Thus I deduce that Yoon-Gu is destined to take over her role in the couple’s life. He will become the doctor’s guardian and protector. As you can see, the champion is not the only one related to her. While in episode 7, Yoon-Gu is only visible as an errand boy, he plays a central role in episode 25. Thanks to him, Joo Jaekyung was able to suggest a sparring to the doctor. The cute puppy brought the main couple closer exactly like in episode 52. The halmoni had a similar attitude. (chapter 41) Thanks to the chow-chow’s intervention, the champion discovered the truth. (chapter 52) Interesting is that he isn’t presenting the switch of the spray as certainty, for they lack evidences. For me, it indicates his growth and maturity. He is not rushing to conclusions contrary to the champion and Park Namwook. They need proofs in order to report Choi Gilseok’s crime. Nevertheless, the young maknae defended not only Kim Dan’s name, but also his champion’s reputation. Therefore he fought with the other fighters. (chapter 52) The result was that his face got bruised. (chapter 52) But strangely, no one is asking him about his wounds… exactly like in episode 43!! (chapter 43) They saw doc Dan not only tired, but also with wounded hands. No one dared to question him, how his hands got bruised. And the moment I noticed this, I realized that Kim Dan was also wounded in episode 7 (chapter 7), 16 (chapter 16) (chapter 16), 25 (chapter 25) (episode 25) and (chapter 34!! And how did people react, when they saw this? They all showed indifference by feigning ignorance or remaining inactive. (chapter 11) Either it was just sex or it was not their problem. Hence the doctor was abandoned in the coach office asleep. (chapter 43) No wonder why the match in the States could start without the PT’s presence. No one was missing him. It was, as if his job during a fight was not important. Only the grandma and Potato asked if he was alright. Yes, both worried not only about him (chapter 40), but also paid attention to his actions and work. (chapter 25)

Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Shin Okja’s admiration for Joo Jaekyung resembles a lot to Potato’s idolization. (chapter 41) However, notice that her desire to watch the match was related to her grandson, the source of her pride and joy. As soon as I made this connection, I had another revelation. Gradually, the chow-chow’s admiration is shifting towards the doctor. (chapter 52) Here, he was no longer looking at his idol, the opposite to this image. (Chapter 34) Here, he only had eyes for the champion due to his strength, but at the hospital, he only had eyes for Kim Dan! (Chapter 52) He is realizing the athlete’s flaws: his lack of discernment and trust. He is discovering the importance of meditation and mental health. However, his attitude changed, when the athlete asked this: (chapter 52) He was looking straight at the celebrity, while the others were all looking away, embarrassed. It shows that the name Kim Dan was working like a lucky charm. And this brings me to the following observation. We are witnessing not only Potato’s emancipation, but also the increase of his critical thinking. Potato overcame his repressed homosexuality very quickly. (Chapter 25) and showed no fear to fight with stronger men. (chapter 52) I sense some future tension between him and coach Park Namwook, for the maknae embodies enlightenment, great intuition and open-mindedness, whereas the other stands for prejudices, ignorance and herd mentality. Naturally, the manager is changing for the better, nonetheless his metamorphosis is progressing much more slowly. Only in episode 52, he questioned why Baek Junmin was placed next to his athlete. (Chapter 52) Yet, he didn’t complain to the staff or to director Choi Gilseok. He remained passive contrary to the young member from Team Black. Moreover, because Kim Dan has always felt a certain closeness to Yoon-Gu, I believe that the latter will be the reason why the champion and Kim Dan can rekindle. Thanks to him, he can approach the poor doctor and convince him that Team Black is his home. (chapter 29) I doubt that it will be just for the athlete’s sake and recovery, for this would make him a hypocrite. He is truly interested in the doctor’s well-being. Let’s not forget that his worries in episode 43 were genuine. Moreover, since Joo Jaekyung’s name number 3 and Potato 4, we come to 7! They will work together. Joo Jaekyung will share his knowledge how to rule in the ring.

By interacting with him, Potato discovered Kim Dan’s qualities: his generosity, his strength (chapter 26), his tolerance, patience, understanding (chapter 37), his humbleness (chapter 25), his dedication and meticulousness. (chapter 49) Yoon-Gu could only perceive Kim Dan as the symbol of loyalty. Hence I come to the deduction that after meeting doc Dan, he must have realized that only one could change the situation, it was Joo Jaekyung and no one else.

Since Yoon-Gu mirrors the grandmother, and the latter had become a wise woman, I consider Potato as the representative of meditation, enlightenment and spirituality. Through him, the champion is forced to change and question appearances and words. This explicates why Joo Jaekyung was more opening up to Kim Dan (25-29), but he reverted to his old self, when he met Heesung who used the manager’s blindness and prejudices to his own advantage. This coincides to the absence of Park Namwook. Between episode 18 and 29, he appeared briefly in episode 23, 26 and 27. In the last episode, he left everything in the hand of the doctor.

2. 4. The protagonists’ well-being

In episode 25, Yoon-Gu had wounded the doctor by mistake, no one paid further attention to his well-being. (chapter 25) It was all about the fighter’s mistake and teaching MMA. The parallel between 25 and 43 (chapter 43) exposes not only Joo Jaekyung (chapter 43), but also Park Namwook’s neglect. How so? First, look how Kim Dan came to offer his services to the members from Team Black. Kim Changmin had an old shoulder injury which had been neglected: (chapter 7) But the coach should have noticed it and advised him to go to a doctor. He was responsible for them. But no… and we have two other evidences in episode 52. First, the manager didn’t ask about Potato’s injury. Secondly, he slapped a patient, because he felt “provoked” by the outburst from Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 52) The first question he asked to the doctor is this: (chapter 52) Why? One might say that he was worried for his star. But for me, the drop of sweat is showing a certain discomfort. How so? A surgery means that the athlete can no longer fight for a while. Without him, the coach is put under pressure, for he needs to ensure that other fighters can enter MFC. (chapter 47) Hence I am now wondering if his passivity and silence after the terrible incident were not deliberate. He had ran away from any responsibility out of fear (avoidance). That way, he could put the blame on others: the champion, the fighters, King Of MMA etc. Naturally, the champion is also to blame (chapter 43), for when he saw his wounded hands, he never confronted Kim Dan. The reason is that he feared that the doctor might abandon him. He simply worried, but did nothing except calling Cheolmin later. (chapter 43) Moreover, the cute doctor had asked him to bring doc Dan for more tests, but he did not follow his advice. (chapter 13) Furthermore, he heard from the grandmother that he had a weak constitution. (chapter 21) Finally, let’s not forget that the doctor took a drug recently, but the champion never verified how it affected his physical therapist. (chapter 41) That’s how it dawned on me that the news about Kim Dan could be referring to his health too. But does it mean that doctor Dan is now ill, especially when you look at Potato’s facial expression here? (chapter 52) He is the person who is affected the most compared to the others. He is mopping exactly like in episode 25: (chapter 25) Back then, his dream was to train and spare with the athlete, thus I deduce that his new dream got “crushed”. But what was his new wish? To work with doc Dan! Thus he assisted him and asked for his opinion. He trusted him blindly. Therefore I have the impression that the physical therapist stopped on his own working for Team Black. However, I don’t think, Kim Dan made this choice himself. The news definitely caught the athlete by surprise. (chapter 52) Either he is sick, or it could be a reference to the doctor’s mental health as well. This would mirror the champion’s unwell-being. (chapter 52) The physical therapist could have suffered a mental breakdown, depression and the trigger would be his halmoni’s fate, her death.

In addition, if he is depressive, then he could have a relapse. You are probably wondering which kind of regression I am referring to: Alcohol, a secret Joo Jaekyung had discovered, when he brought him to his flat. (chapter 10) Let’s not forget that after his first night, the doctor numbed his physical pain with soju, while he was not eating properly. (chapter 5) He would spend money for soju, but not for healthy food. Not even his grandmother was aware of this habit. But by living with the champion, he could no longer live like in the past. He had stopped drinking any alcohol, but notice that it changed after the drug incident. He was encouraged to drink again: (chapter 43) The champion represented the doctor’s motivation and as such “sweet drug”. That’s the reason why he could always overcome the pain afflicted by his soulmate: (chapter 47) (chapter 51) And this brings me to my next observation. All the episodes are showing the champion’s weak mental condition which got even worse over time. From this (chapter 7) to this (chapter 34) and to this: (chapter 52) At the hospital, he was able to express his true thoughts and emotions for the first time, while in episode 34, Choi Heesung even tried to manipulate him by denying his affection for the physical therapist: (chapter 34) Though the celebrity was getting easily irritated, the manager never took the matter seriously. He saw it as the result of bad education, hence he never tried to change it either. (chapter 9) Therefore he portrayed him as a maniac. So why is he requesting the return of the physical therapist? One reason is that he can’t deal with the celebrity’s negative emotions. Secondly, he needs Kim Dan so that the latter can be fit within 90 days!! Yes… Joo Jaekyung got suspended, hence he can no longer fight. But as soon as the suspension is over, there’s no doubt that the coach plans to send him back to the scene. Hence his gratitude (chapter 43) (chapter 43) and care are not selfless, for the PT could improve the celebrity’s performance and even treat his shoulder injury in such a short time. However, what Park Namwook is not realizing is that he is becoming responsible for Kim Dan and his return. (chapter 52) In other words, he made a decision. Besides, he is entrusted to take care of the main lead. He can no longer neglect him like in the past. Moreover, should he face problems because of the PT, he can no longer put the responsibility on the athlete. The slap is the deal.

2. 5. Fighting and fun

Another common denominator is that the usage of violence in these episodes (7, 25 34 and 52) is not the expression of fun, rather it indicates fear, frustration and anger. In episode 25, the maknae wounded the doctor out of jealousy and frustration unconsciously. He wished to be close to the celebrity. Interesting is that chapter 43 represents the true exception. Here, the readers could discover the champion’s true face: he was behaving like a brute and thug (chapter 43) (chapter 43) Yet, his words were just empty threats. And what have episode 25 and 43 in common? Fun and learning. (chapter 43) To say that the athlete always has a bad temper (chapter 52) is simply wrong, for it is not representing the truth. The birthday party is the evidence of their lie. And the fact that the fighters went to the same place than for the birthday party exposes the deception from the ex-members. (chapter 43) (chapter 52) But since Potato was not present that day, he can not criticize them for their hypocrisy. However, notice that they are describing the celebrity exactly like the manager: “his temper”. It is a cheap excuse, especially when they had a good time on the celebrity’s birthday.

2. 6. Number 7 and apprehension

I detected another similarity between all these episodes. It is about getting caught or not! While the main couple was not discovered in the shower room (episode 7), the champion caught Heo Manwook on the verge of raping his fated partner (chapter 16) But like mentioned above, he misjudged the situation, hence the crime was not reported properly. This stands in opposition to the puppy’s behavior at the gym. Though he arrived later, he was still able to detect what had happened between the main leads. (chapter 25) It is no coincidence, it shows the strength of our cute puppy. He is mentally stronger than his role model. His intuition and his critical thinking are better developed. As soon as he discovered the true nature of their relationship, he kept it a secret. Moreover, he didn’t condemn them for doing it at the workplace. Interesting is that he made a mistake himself as a fighter, but he didn’t get reprimanded. (chapter 25) Why? It is because the doctor protected him by explaining the circumstances: he was learning jujitsu. He diverted the champion’s attention from Yoon-Gu. He had not been “caught”. However, when Kim Dan was offered to become the celebrity’s sparring partner, Potato got angry and voiced his anger and wish: (chapter 25) Yes, this is the reflection from that scene at the hospital: (chapter 52) And what had happened to Potato, when he yelled at Joo Jaekyung? Nothing… the champion only paid attention to his soulmate, while Kim Dan saw his disappointment which pushed him to accept the challenge. (chapter 25) And who was absent during that day? Park Namwook. It is no coincidence, for the latter stands for scolding, silencing and social norms. No doctor had ever entered the ring to fight. These are two different worlds. And now, you comprehend why the manager vented his anger on the fighter. (chapter 26) (chapter 52) Park Namwook is using his seniority and social norms to justify his “violence”. The young man should have never raised his voice at his hyung. But like mentioned in the previous essay, the man is just an employee of Team Black, he doesn’t own the gym. This shows that he abused his position to a certain extent. So far, the harsh treatment had been only directed at the champion which the others saw as a normality. And what is the common denominator between all these scenes? Kim Dan never witnessed the beating Joo Jaekyung was receiving from his hyung. (chapter 43) The latter has not been caught by the hamster yet. But it is only a matter of time, until he gets apprehended. As soon as the physical therapist makes this discovery, he can only question the manager’s attitude. Notice that in the last image, the manager scared the doctor with his rough gesture. Now that many members left the gym, the pressure on the remaining fighters can only increase. Hence Park Namwook could expose his true personality. He has high expectations for the remaining members. But we will see. One thing is sure. the 90 day suspension represents an important turning point in the athlete’s life. The purpose of Team Black is now changing. It is no longer for the champion’s sake and career. The celebrity needs to give a new goal for his gym.

As for chapter 34, the couple got caught by Heesung, but this was on purpose!! (chapter 34) The exact opposite to chapter 25! Observe what the actor said about the athlete: (chapter 34) He employed the exact expression than the manager, an indication that the latter had influenced the actor. I consider his thoughts as another evidence for the coach’s intervention. However, he couldn’t report it to Park Namwook, for he had used work as a reason to meet the protagonist. On the other hand, I am quite certain that he divulged the incident to Potato in episode 43, therefore the latter agreed to the statement of the other fighters: he was a thug. (chapter 47) Chapter 52 contrasts to all the previous scenes, for this time, the champion got caught and sentenced. (chapter 52) His suspension is the result of his misbehavior, he used violence and as such he broke MFC rules. It was not related to his sexual behavior (contrary to episode 7, 16, 25, 34 and 43), hence I am assuming that this topic will become a hot topic in season 2. When will he be caught in a compromising situation with Kim Dan? Moreover, his sentence is only valid in MFC world, hence his reputation is not truly ruined. While the main lead got caught and punished, the opposite happened to the villains: (chapter 52) They got scot-free. While it looks like a blessing, it is not because contrary to the past, police got involved. Coach Jeong Yosep reported the incident to the authorities, so Choi Gilseok and the other could get arrested for money laundering. (chapter 52) But what did the hyungs do during that incident? They stood there immobile, yet they could have anticipated his reaction after hearing the constant provocations. They knew about his “temper”. So their passivity, negligence and incompetence was truly exposed in episode 52. They got caught by attentive readers. And this brings me to my final thought: how does Park Namwook judge the incident? (chapter 52) It is not a question of “good luck”, the exact opposite of episode 1. (chapter 1) His bad temper is the reason for that incident. Funny is that by admitting this, he is not realizing his own wrongdoing! He neglected the champion’s mental health and his well-being all this time. He never tried to grasp the origins of his irritability and to improve the situation. So it was only a matter of time, until this would come to the surface! To conclude, though number 7 is strongly connected to suffering, it also stands for education and teaching. Thus as time passes on, the characters are getting enlightened and more complete. Little by little, they are getting closer to the divine: the discovery of hope and as such happiness. For me, the protagonists’ main spiritual growth will take place around the episodes 70-79.

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