Please support the authors by reading Manhwas on the official websites. This is where you can read the Manhwa: Jinx But be aware that the Manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. Here is the link of the table of contents about Jinx. Here is the link where you can find the table of contents of analyzed Manhwas. Here are the links, if you are interested in the first work from Mingwa, BJ Alex, and the 2 previous essays about Jinx Between A Squeeze And A Crack – part 1 and Between A Squeeze And A Crack – part 2
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Where is a Flower in Episode 88?
Episode 88 of Jinx immediately drew readers’ attention to two moments in particular: the training session between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung 
(chapter 88), and the final panel hinting at an imminent confrontation with Choi Heesung. 
(chapter 88) Discussions largely revolved around physical proximity, discipline, and anticipation — around bodies in motion and the promise of conflict to come. At first glance, the episode seemed to oscillate between intimacy and tension 
(chapter 88), between preparation 
(chapter 88) and interruption 
(chapter 88).
Only on closer reading does another layer emerge — one that does not oppose these moments, but reframes them. The training session is not merely about discipline or proximity, and the final panel is not only a promise of confrontation. Both scenes 
(chapter 88) are structured around restraint (chapter 88): what is held back 
(chapter 88), delayed, or redirected. Words are measured, authority is redistributed, and decisions are deferred 
(chapter 88) rather than imposed. What initially appears as physical intensity and narrative suspense begins to reveal a deeper reconfiguration of roles, responsibility, and choice.
At first glance, the title may seem paradoxical. The episode takes place a few weeks after October 
(chapter 70)—most likely in November— in late autumn. 
(chapter 88) This temporal setting is visually reinforced by the environment itself: in the opening sequence marked “a few weeks later,” the tree is already bare, its leaves gone. Nature offers no spontaneous image of growth or renewal. If a flower were to appear in this chapter, it couldn’t belong to the season. It must be cultivated, protected, and sustained in a green house—something that emerges not from natural abundance, but from deliberate care. So where does this idea of a flower come from?
Closed Circuits and the Logic of the Number Eight
The title emerged from a visual and structural observation. Chapter 88 is built around the number eight: a chapter defined by two closed circuits that finally cross. Remember how I described the relationship of the main couple in the essay 
: a closed circuit which we could witness once again in the training room: 
(chapter 88) There are once again sparks between them. The number 8 is not just related to doc Dan [for more read The Magic Of Numbers ] and his relationship with the athlete, but also to the other couple: Heesung and Yoon-Gu. This means, the latter represent the other closed circuit. Hence the other couple appeared in episode 35 and 58. 
(chapter 58) Two trajectories —long separated, repeatedly missing one another—intersect at last. When two eights overlap, they form neither a loop nor a knot, but a new shape: a flower-like figure, suggestive of opening rather than closure. This crossing does not resolve everything; instead, it creates the conditions for growth for all the characters. We could say that each closed circuit forms two petals so that their interaction with each other will affect them positively.
Color as Emotional Structure
The flower, however, is not only numerical or temporal. It is also chromatic. A flower is never defined by form alone, but by shading—by gradients, transitions, and the coexistence of multiple tones within a single structure. Thus in French certain flowers serve to define pigments: rose for pink, violet for purple. In this sense, episode 88 does not merely contain colors; it behaves like a flower unfolding through shades. Episode 88 is saturated with color: pink
(chapter 88), white 
(chapter 88) purple 
(chapter 88), blue, gray, 
, (chapter 88) red (chapter 88) and black 
(chapter 88) Pink frames tenderness and mutual awkwardness; purple marks embarrassment and heightened awareness; red signals suppressed anger and looming confrontation; black absorbs fear, silence, and unresolved tension.
White, notably associated with Park Namwook, carries a more ambivalent meaning. (chapter 88) It evokes innocence on the surface, but also ignorance—an unexamined moral comfort that allows him to retreat from responsibility while claiming authority. His lightness contrasts sharply with the weight of the decision he refused to make: visually underlined by the black-lined spiral hovering near his head—an emblem of irritation without accountability.
Blue and gray dominate the scene in which Joo Jaekyung announces his seemingly excessive training demands. (chapter 88) On the surface, the atmosphere feels cold and authoritarian. Yet the exaggeration itself reveals something else: the demand is deliberately absurd, almost teasing. Joo Jaekyung is testing resolve, not imposing punishment. The joke —visible thanks to the chibi and the brief spark within the athlete’s gaze— goes unnoticed. No one laughs. The room’s muted colors reflect this misrecognition—care and fun are present, but not yet legible to those receiving it.
At first glance, the setting itself seems to resist any floral reading. (chapter 88) The scene unfolds not in nature, but in a gym in Seoul—an urban, enclosed space associated with discipline, repetition, and control rather than growth or renewal. This tension may explain the readers’ initial surprise: a flower appears where one would expect only concrete, steel, and hierarchy. Yet in Jinx, the flower does not belong to nature as landscape, but to nature as process—to emergence, care, and relational change.
This process is not introduced through scenery, but through bodies marked by green. And the latter symbolizes nature. In episode 88, two characters 
(chapter 88) are dressed in green (chapter 88), a choice that appears unobtrusive—almost practical—yet is unmistakable within Mingwa’s chromatic language. Green here does not function as pure nature or renewal, but as transition: a sign of growth that is still constrained, negotiated, and incomplete. It is not a vivid, liberating green, but a muted one—ranging from green sheen to subdued olive—closer to endurance than vitality, to steadiness rather than expansion. Growth is present, but it has not yet broken free; it remains embedded in effort, restraint, and adaptation.
Crucially, this shorts’ shade recalls the photograph of Kim Dan with his grandmother 
(chapter 19), where green and floral elements once functioned as a silent language of care and containment. The repetition is not accidental. By wearing a similar tone in the present, Kim Dan does not merely revisit the past; he carries it forward. (chapter 88) The color no longer signifies dependency or shelter alone, but continuity of self. It marks a return to an inner disposition that predates trauma—a self capable of care, persistence, and quiet resilience. This means that he is closer to his true self.
Placed within the gym’s dominant blues and grays, this green does not signal leisure or escape. It signals cultivation. Growth here is neither spontaneous nor decorative; it must be trained, maintained, and protected. The flower does not bloom despite the city—it blooms through care, discipline and recognition. What initially appears paradoxical becomes coherent: in Jinx, growth is not opposed to structure. It is shaped by it.
From Flower to Language: Communication Deferred
Crucially, the flower also functions as a metaphor for communication. (chapter 19) Flowers are not passive decorations; they carry meaning, intent, and symbolism. The background is composed of hydrangeas in blue, pink, and pale violet—colors traditionally associated with gratitude, tenderness, apology, and emotional nuance.
Unlike roses 
(chapter 35), which tend to assert a singular message (love, passion, beauty), hydrangeas communicate multiplicity and emotional ambivalence; they speak in clusters rather than declarations. This visual language mirrors Kim Dan’s inner world at the time (chapter 19): affection entwined with dependency and sorrow, care mixed with silence, love present but unspoken.
This chromatic memory resurfaces later through a different floral gesture: the bouquet Choi Heesung offers Kim Dan —pink roses paired with baby’s breath 
(chapter 31). Here, the symbolism shifts. Pink roses convey affection and admiration, while baby’s breath suggests innocence and fragility. Yet the arrangement is excessive, overwhelming, and mismatched to its recipient. The bouquet does not listen; it speaks at Kim Dan rather than with him. Significantly, Heesung comes to associate Kim Dan himself with the flower—something delicate, beautiful, and deserving of protection, but also something to be handled, displayed, and possessed.
Episode 88 reframes this logic entirely. The “birth of a flower” no longer refers to being perceived as fragile or decorative, but to a return to growth from within. 
(chapter 88) Kim Dan’s green training clothes—visually echoing the green shirt he wore in the photograph with his grandmother—signal continuity rather than regression. This is not a retreat into childhood dependency, but the reappearance of an inner child now disentangled from obligation and fear. The flower that reemerges here is not gifted, not arranged, not imposed—it grows. In this sense, episode 88 introduces a missing element in the dynamic between the two protagonists: not desire, not care, but communication. And it is here that Choi Heesung becomes central—not as a rival or antagonist, but as a structural bridge, as in reality he represents the rose, “La vie en rose” 
. He embodies speech, playfulness, and visibility, yet also reveals their limits when they are severed from responsibility and respect. I will elaborate about this more below.
The illustration accompanying this essay includes a fifth, shadowed petal inspired by the Mugunghwa—the Rose of Sharon, a national symbol of Korea often associated with endurance, justice, and continuity. This fifth petal does not yet fully bloom. It signals something incomplete, something still forming: a question of justice, choice, and mutual recognition that the narrative has only begun to articulate.
Finally, this essay reads episode 88 through the lens of Erich Fromm’s definition of love—care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge. For me, these 4 notions are represented by the 4 petals. In this chapter, Joo Jaekyung visibly embodies care, responsibility, and a growing respect for others’ autonomy. What remains absent is knowledge: a true understanding of Kim Dan’s inner life, just as Kim Dan himself has yet to fully understand Jaekyung beyond his role and past. The flower, then, is not the endpoint. It is the beginning of a process in which these missing elements may finally emerge.
What follows is not an analysis of victory or defeat, but of growth—quiet, fragile, and cultivated under constraint. This is not the celebration of happiness already achieved 
(chapter 88), but the moment in which the conditions for happiness are finally put into place. And now let me ask you this. What is the symbol of happiness? Smiles and laughs. During the training session, Kim Dan smiles. These moments are brief 
(chapter 88) and goes unnoticed by him (chapter 88) and his fated partner, yet it directly answers what Joo Jaekyung has repeatedly expressed as his desire: to be the source for Kim Dan’s smile and to smile together. 
(chapter 83) What is striking is that neither of them recognizes this fulfillment. (chapter 88) Kim Dan does not register his own smile as happiness, and Joo Jaekyung does not realize that he is already producing what he seeks. As elsewhere in Jinx, happiness precedes awareness. It exists before it is acknowledged—by both sides.That’s why I selected the title: the flower embodies happiness, as its life is just as short as happiness. 
(chapter 31)
A. Joo Jaekyung × Kim Dan: The First two Petals
The training sequence in episode 88 cannot be read as a simple exercise scene, nor as a sudden moment of equality or mutual play. It is, instead, the continuation of a long-standing relational pattern in which care is expressed indirectly (chapter 88), asymmetrically, and through the only language both characters know how to use: work. 
(chapter 88) What appears at first glance as coercion 
(chapter 88) or discipline is in fact a negotiation shaped by habit, fear of burdening the other, and an inability—on both sides—to articulate desire outside professional roles.
1. How the training is suggested: care disguised as necessity
Crucially, the idea of training does not emerge in the gym itself. It is first introduced in the car 
(chapter 88), a space that is never neutral in Jinx. A car has one driver, one direction, one authority. By placing the conversation there, Mingwa signals that the relationship is still structurally asymmetrical at this point: Joo Jaekyung leads, Kim Dan follows.
Joo Jaekyung frames the proposal as a matter of stamina and work. (chapter 88) Training will help him in his career. This framing is not accidental. Joo Jaekyung does not yet know how to say: “I want to spend time with you“, or “I’m afraid you won’t be safe, once you leave my side“. He knows only how to justify closeness through usefulness. Training becomes a rational excuse for proximity, a legitimate reason to demand time without admitting emotional dependence.
At the same time, this proposal is deeply protective. Joo Jaekyung has seen Kim Dan collapse from exhaustion in the past. He knows his physical limits better than Kim Dan himself. 
(chapter 88) Secondly, such a training suggests that the athlete is gradually remembering this scene of the almost-rape. (chapter 88) In his subconscious, he knows that this was not prostitution. 
(chapter 17) Therefore it is not surprising that instead of asking permission or explaining concern, he imposes the idea—because that is how he has learned to act as a captain, a fighter, and later a manager. Authority precedes dialogue. (chapter 88)
2. The first refusal: self-neglect disguised as strength
Kim Dan’s first response is immediate: (chapter 88) He refuses. This is not politeness. It is not consideration for Joo Jaekyung’s fatigue. It is a reflex rooted in long-standing self-erasure. Kim Dan genuinely believes he is strong enough. More importantly, he believes that needing care is illegitimate.
This refusal is governed by habit:
- the habit of minimizing himself,
- the habit of overestimating endurance,
- the habit of believing that receiving attention makes him a burden.
At this stage, Kim Dan is not yet protecting Joo Jaekyung; he is protecting the structure that allows him to remain useful and unobtrusive. Accepting training would mean admitting vulnerability—and worse, accepting time, effort, and concern directed at him.
The sportsman ignores this refusal. This moment is important because it reveals both the problem and the intention. Joo Jaekyung acts like a parental figure, not a partner. He overrides consent not out of cruelty, but out of conviction that he knows better. His care still takes the form of command. This explicates why the physical therapist’s agreement is accompanied with a drop of a sweat. “Okay” indicates more discomfort than joy and gratitude. He doesn’t feel indebted toward the athlete, rather embarrassed.
Thus the asymmetry is intact. The training is not born out of his own desire.
3. The pause: time passing, resistance softening
Striking is that this conversation is revealed, after the champion asked doc Dan to get changed. 
(chapter 88) In other words, the request from Joo Jaekyung appears as a memory from the physical therapist. Why? 
(chapter 88) Because Mingwa refuses the “clean” sequence in which an order is issued and immediately executed. The narration inserts a gap—an interval of off-panel time that we are forced to reconstruct from Kim Dan’s recall. (chapter 88) The narrative does not jump immediately into physical training, because the temporal gap is supposed to mirror the time jump as well. There were other training sessions. This temporal gap matters. The doctor’s inner thoughts (chapter 88) “I guess we’re doing it today, too…” implies routine without inner desire and daily regularity. This means that the training sessions only took place, when the champion asked doc Dan to change his clothes. Doc Dan was not looking forward for the training sessions or reminded the athlete of his promise or request.
That pause changes the meaning of consent and compliance. If the scene were immediate, Kim Dan’s earlier refusal (“Oh no, thank you, I can manage—”) would read as a clear boundary and Joo Jaekyung’s “Just do as I say” as a straightforward override. (chapter 88) But because the chapter returns to the topic through memory, the refusal is not portrayed as a decisive line—rather, it becomes the first phase of a negotiation Kim Dan does not yet know how to conduct. His resistance softens not because he suddenly “wants” the training, but because habit takes over: he is used to accommodating authority, used to re-framing his own limits as irrelevant, used to translating pressure into “normal.” The break between the command and the actual session is precisely where that old reflex does its quiet work.
By the time they appear in the practice room, Kim Dan is showing no hesitation. He is training eagerly. 
(chapter 88) Instead Kim Dan no longer insists on his own sufficiency. He no longer says “I can manage., but doc Dan admits not only his own lacking. 
(chapter 88), but also his own desire. He finally expresses his desire to improve, to learn more.
This admission marks a decisive internal shift. In earlier chapters, “I can manage” functioned as a shield: a way to deny need and avoid dependence. Here, Kim Dan allows himself to recognize that improvement exists precisely because limits existed before. The champion’s explicit comparison with the past 
(chapter 88) creates a temporal bridge that enables this recognition. Only once change is named from the outside can Kim Dan cautiously acknowledge it from within.
At the same time, this acknowledgment remains fragile. Kim Dan does not fully accept the implications of Joo Jaekyung’s praise. (chapter 88) His response — “I still have a lot to learn” — both accepts growth and reinscribes distance. He recognizes the fighter’s effort and dedication, yet still fears relying on the athlete’s benevolence. (chapter 88) This is why he immediately reframes the future in terms of independence: he will “keep up the training on [his] own.” Gratitude is present, but it remains incomplete, protective rather than connective. He still experiences himself as a potential burden. But why?
It’s because he tried to care for the athlete in his own way by suggesting a rest, but the champion denied it. 
(chapter 88) The problem is that his form of care was influenced by his own mindset and emotions: his physical limitations.
This attempt at care fails not because it is insincere, but because it is misaligned. Kim Dan does not ask whether Joo Jaekyung wants to rest; he assumes that rest must be what is needed, because that is what he himself would need in the same situation. His concern is genuine, yet it is filtered through his own bodily limits and emotional economy. Fatigue, for him, is something that must be managed cautiously, avoided, negotiated. When he encounters a body that does not obey those rules — a body that still has stamina, that refuses the logic of depletion — his offer of care is quietly rejected.
This rejection is decisive. It reveals a gap Kim Dan cannot yet bridge: the realization that Joo Jaekyung’s needs do not mirror his own. (chapter 88) The athlete does not require rest in the same way, and more importantly, he does not articulate his needs through physical exhaustion at all. What Kim Dan fails to perceive is that the training itself is Joo Jaekyung’s way of staying regulated, present, and emotionally grounded. It is also his source of joy. By denying the necessity of rest, the champion is not dismissing care; he is refusing a form of care that does not correspond to him.
Confronted with this mismatch, Kim Dan retreats. If his attempt to care is ineffective, then the safest response is to minimize his demands. This is where gratitude hardens into distance. He thanks Joo Jaekyung for his help with a smile, acknowledges his progress, and immediately insists on autonomy: he will continue alone. The logic is protective. If he does not rely, he cannot burden. If he does not ask, he cannot be refused again.
What emerges here is not self-confidence, but a familiar defense. Kim Dan is not asserting independence from strength; he is withdrawing from uncertainty. His insistence on training alone does not signal rejection of connection, but fear of asymmetry — fear that he cannot offer something equivalent in return. Because he interprets care primarily through physical effort and endurance, he cannot yet recognize that his presence, attention, and willingness to engage already matter.
In this sense, the moment exposes the limits of projection. Kim Dan’s care is sincere, but it remains anchored in his own survival strategies. Until he can decouple care from exhaustion, and need from weakness, he will continue to misread situations where what is required is not restraint, but accompaniment. The training, then, is not only about building strength. It is the first site where Kim Dan begins to confront the possibility that care does not always flow from managing limits — but sometimes from staying, even when one feels unnecessary.
This is significant. It shows that Kim Dan is beginning to speak, but still cannot speak for himself. His old habit remains: if something feels wrong, it must be because the other person needs rest, not because he is tired, scared, or overwhelmed. In other words, care is emerging—but it is displaced.
This is precisely why the gesture that follows (chapter 88) carries such weight. For the first time in this exchange, care is directed back at Kim Dan without condition. It is not framed as instruction, correction, or evaluation. It is neither command nor test. It is a simple, protective statement that mirrors Kim Dan’s earlier concern — but without projection. Joo Jaekyung does not deny Kim Dan’s limits. He acknowledges them. There is no reproach, only concern. 
(chapter 88)
Here, the asymmetry softens without disappearing. Joo Jaekyung remains physically dominant, emotionally inarticulate, and structurally in control of the situation. Yet the direction of care shifts. He does not accept Kim Dan’s attempt to exit the dynamic under the guise of independence. Instead, he counters it with responsibility: you matter enough to be protected. The pinky promise that visually accompanies this exchange reinforces the meaning. Promises in Jinx have often functioned as burdens or traps — obligations that freeze people in place. This one is different. It does not demand performance. It does not extract sacrifice. It asks only for self-preservation. (chapter 88)
This is where the flower begins to appear — not as harmony, not as symmetry, but as mutual misrecognition slowly correcting itself. Kim Dan still does not fully grasp that Joo Jaekyung’s desire to train him is also a desire to spend time with him. Joo Jaekyung, in turn, still cannot articulate that desire outside the language of work. (chapter 88) Training becomes the only acceptable medium through which closeness can occur. Pleasure and intimacy surface unintentionally — in teasing, in competition, in shared breath — but remain unnamed.
Crucially, this is not rigidity. It is habit. Both men operate within deeply ingrained routines shaped by survival rather than joy. Rest, breaks, and leisure have only ever been framed in relation to the champion’s career: recovery after injury, distraction after stress, sanctioned release after pressure. They know how to stop working; they do not know how to share fun. There is no vocabulary yet for casual togetherness — no restaurant, no cinema, no idle wandering. Training fills the gap because it is the only space where proximity feels justified.
Thus, the training is neither purely imposed nor fully shared. It begins as Joo Jaekyung’s initiative, shaped by authority and concern, but it gradually becomes a site where Kim Dan starts to renegotiate his self-image. By acknowledging both his limits and his desire to improve, Kim Dan takes a first step away from the logic of endurance alone. He still retreats into self-sufficiency, but the retreat is no longer absolute. He speaks more. He hesitates less. He accepts care, even if he cannot yet rely on it.
The flower here is not bloom, but formation. It is the slow emergence of a relationship that must unlearn the equation between care and burden, strength and isolation, desire and duty. Nothing is resolved. But something has shifted: care is no longer one-directional, even when it remains uneven. And for the first time, both characters participate — imperfectly, awkwardly, but genuinely — in sustaining it.
4. Where pleasure enters—and why it is unspoken
As the training progresses, something shifts subtly. Joo Jaekyung smiles 
(chapter 88). He teases. (chapter 88) He challenges. He praises: 
(chapter 88)
These are not neutral compliments. They are moments where discipline slips into enjoyment. Joo Jaekyung is no longer training only to prepare Kim Dan for a future without him; he is enjoying the present interaction. And yet, he cannot name this enjoyment.
Pleasure appears within work, not alongside it. Intimacy emerges through exertion 
(chapter 88), not rest. Thus the doctor mistakes the embrace for a technique and not the expression of love. 
(chapter 88) And observe that the athlete still refuses to express the true meaning of his hug. His explanation still remains technical, defensive, and strategically framed:
(chapter 88) This sentence is crucial. It reduces contact to function. The closeness of bodies, the pressure of weight, the proximity of breath are translated into instruction. What could be acknowledged as reassurance or care is instead displaced into pedagogy. Joo Jaekyung does not deny intimacy; he relabels it.
What the image reinforces is not distance, but deferral. The focus on bodies — on interlocked legs, grounded feet, balanced weight — emphasizes control and stability rather than vulnerability. Affection is allowed to exist only when it can be defended as functional. The mount is maintained not because Joo Jaekyung wants to keep Kim Dan close, but because losing it would constitute failure.
And yet, the sequence immediately preceding this moment shows both characters acutely aware of their racing hearts,
(chapter 88) of breath held too long, of proximity charged with something unnamed. The technical explanation arrives after that awareness, not before it. This confirms that the instructional language functions as a shield — not against intimacy itself, but against having to speak it.
Yet the narrative immediately undermines this technical framing. 
(chapter 88) Directly after warning against lowering one’s guard, Joo Jaekyung kisses him.
The kiss is not furtive, accidental, or one-sided. Both characters are fully present. They look at each other. Neither pulls away. The contradiction is deliberate: the body does what the language refuses to acknowledge. Vigilance and intimacy coexist in the same gesture. The warning about control does not prevent closeness; it becomes the pretext through which closeness is allowed.
This is the crucial correction: Joo Jaekyung is not simply disguising intimacy as technique. He is containing it. The kiss does not negate the instructional frame; it slips through it. Pleasure is permitted only insofar as it does not require verbal recognition. Love is enacted, but not named.
For Kim Dan, this ambiguity poses no immediate problem. He has been kissed before. Physical intimacy is not new to him, and he has learned — through prior encounters — not to interrogate its meaning unless forced to do so. He does not question whether the kiss signifies affection, reassurance, desire, or attachment. Instead, he relocates intimacy spatially rather than emotionally. His only objection is not that the kiss happens, but where: (chapter 88) This line is telling. Kim Dan does not resist closeness itself. He resists its placement. Intimacy, in his understanding, belongs elsewhere — to the penthouse, to private space, to moments already coded as sexual or domestic. What unsettles him is not the kiss, but the fact that it occurs inside the domain of work.
In other words, Kim Dan does not yet read intimacy as something that can coexist with discipline. He accepts affection when it appears in designated zones, but not when it disrupts functional categories. The gym is a place of training; therefore, what happens there must remain legible as training. Joo Jaekyung’s technical explanation gives him exactly that permission.
This is why Kim Dan accepts the justification without protest. He does not reinterpret the embrace as love because he does not yet need to. The structure remains intact: work is work, intimacy is intimacy, and when the two overlap, the overlap is attributed to technique rather than feeling.
In this sense, Joo Jaekyung’s restraint protects both of them. It protects Kim Dan from having to reinterpret the gesture emotionally, and it protects Joo Jaekyung from articulating feelings he has no vocabulary for outside the grammar of training. Care is real, but its meaning is postponed. Love is present, but encoded as vigilance.
This postponement explains why the “flower” has not yet opened. It exists, but inwardly folded. Growth is happening, but it is constrained by the only relational language both men currently share: effort, endurance, correction, control.
They know how to train together.
They know how to recover.
They know how to endure crisis.
They know obligation.
They do not yet know how to choose pleasure together — how to eat, rest, shop, watch a movie, or enjoy time without purpose. Even their earlier “break” at the amusement park existed because Joo Jaekyung needed rest, not because they mutually chose leisure. Fun, like intimacy, has always been instrumental.
What episode 88 reveals is not the absence of love, but its confinement. Pleasure appears — undeniably — yet remains untranslated. Sensation does not yet become knowledge. The flower is there, but it has not learned how to open outside the discipline that first allowed it to grow.
5. The slow reversal: from imposed care to accepted challenge
The most important moment comes when Kim Dan manages to reverse positions and pin Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 88) The shock and joy are mutual. Joo Jaekyung is genuinely surprised. Kim Dan is genuinely proud—though he barely allows himself to register it. (chapter 88) This is not equality yet. But it is the first time Kim Dan experiences himself as capable, not merely compliant. The training that began as imposed authority becomes a shared test and experience. Importantly, Kim Dan did not ask for this moment. It emerged because he stayed. This stands in opposition to the sparring in front of the fighters. 
(chapter 26) Back then, Doc Dan had accepted the challenge due to Potato, though deep down he desired to have the champion as his teacher. 
(chapter 25) That’s how it dawned on me that doc Dan has gradually taken over Yoon-Gu’s previous place at the gym. He is an “unofficial member” of Team Black. Thus he mops the floor and Yoon-Gu is not there to stop him or reclaim this position. 
(chapter 88) Yoon-Gu’s position within the gym has improved. He is now considered as a real fighter.
6. Where the flower is
If the previous sections trace a movement, this final observation names its limit. To understand why the flower in episode 88 has only begun to appear, it is necessary to return to Erich Fromm’s definition of love, which rests on four inseparable elements: care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge. [For more read:“The Art Of Loving” (locked)] Love, in this framework, does not exist where only one or two of these are present. It requires all four to be active at once in order to become sustaining, conscious, and mutual.
Episode 88 makes one thing unmistakably clear: in the relationship between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan, three of these elements are already in place. One is not.
Care is not what this relationship lacks. (chapter 88) Joo Jaekyung’s care is visible throughout the episode, even when it is expressed awkwardly or through misdirection. His insistence on training, his attention to Kim Dan’s stamina, his refusal to let Kim Dan dismiss his own physical limits (chapter 88), and his final reminder to “take good care of yourself” all belong to the same logic. This care is protective and practical, but it is still delivered under the cover of training—phrased as guidance, risk-management, and performance maintenance rather than as attachment. He is capable of saying “take care,” but he still cannot say what the care ultimately means: I want you close; I worry about losing you; I don’t know how to keep you besides making you stronger. For someone like Jaekyung, whose life has been organized around performance and endurance, this is the only available language of concern. Kim Dan, too, expresses care, though in a displaced form. He worries about Jaekyung’s exhaustion, (chapter 88), minimizes his own needs and tries not to become a burden. Care moves in both directions, even if it rarely reaches its intended target.
Responsibility is equally present, and equally heavy. Jaekyung assumes responsibility for Kim Dan’s safety and future (chapter 88), particularly in light of his own awareness that their time together is limited. The training is not arbitrary; it is oriented toward what comes after him. Kim Dan, meanwhile, takes responsibility in another way: by insisting on self-sufficiency (chapter 88), by promising to continue training on his own, by framing improvement as something he must manage independently. What stands out is that responsibility exists on both sides, but it is carried separately. Each assumes it alone, without yet allowing it to become shared.
Respect, too, is not absent. Jaekyung respects Kim Dan’s capacity to grow. (chapter 88) He challenges him not because he sees him as weak, but because he believes resistance is possible. (chapter 88) His praise, rare and restrained, signals recognition rather than indulgence. Kim Dan, in turn, respects Jaekyung’s discipline and endurance, sometimes to the point of idealization. This respect remains asymmetrical, but it is real. It has begun to shift from hierarchy toward recognition.
What is missing, and what keeps the flower from fully appearing, is knowledge—not information, not memory, but Fromm’s sense of active understanding of the other as a subject with inner needs, fears, and desires. In The Art of Loving, knowledge means seeing the other as they are, which requires two things at once:
- Honesty toward oneself (recognizing one’s own needs, fears, and desires), and
- Articulation toward the other (making that inner reality available rather than acting it out indirectly).
This is why words matter so much. Without words, care can exist, responsibility can exist, and even respect can exist — but they remain opaque. Joo Jaekyung knows exactly what he wants: time, proximity, continuity. He is acutely aware that his time with Kim Dan is running out. 
(chapter 88)
What he lacks is not intention, but translation and even courage. He does not know how to express his desire outside the vocabulary of work, discipline, and physical instruction. He can insist, challenge, and protect, but he cannot yet name why he does so. He still thinks, it is not possible to be loved due to his huge flaws and past wrongdoings. Kim Dan, on the other hand, does not yet know how to read care when it is not framed as sacrifice or obligation. He interprets insistence as burden, closeness as technique, affection as something that must be relocated elsewhere—into private space, into the penthouse, into moments that feel safer and more legible.
Their misunderstanding does not stem from a lack of feeling. It stems from a lack of confidence and shared language. Love is enacted rather than understood. Care, responsibility, and respect circulate between them, but knowledge—the capacity to see and articulate the other’s inner reality—has not yet entered the relationship. The reason is that both underestimate themselves. Thus both don’t speak the truth. This is why the flower in episode 88 is real but incomplete. It exists in the slow shift from refusal to engagement, from habit-driven self-denial to cautious participation. It exists in the fact that Kim Dan accepts the training not because he must, but because he begins to recognize the results from Jaekyung’s effort and insistence. He gradually accepts that Joo Jaekyung is genuinely concerned about him. He is gradually enjoying this, thus he voices his desire to learn more. Another problem is that both still think, they know each other. They have not recognized the importance of “words” and “honesty” yet. Nevertheless until knowledge emerges—until what is enacted can also be spoken—the flower remains folded inward. Not absent. Not broken. Simply unfinished.
Heesung × Potato: The Other Two Petals — Knowledge Without Responsibility
If the bond between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan exposes a surplus of care constrained by poor articulation, the dynamic between Heesung and Potato reveals the opposite imbalance:: knowledge without responsibility, and therefore without respect. The actor is able to express his thoughts and emotions all the time, yet he is not taking Potato’s feelings and thoughts into consideration. Thus he simply asks Yoon-Gu to hold the mitts and not be his sparring partner. (chapter 88) The way the “gumiho” speaks to the chow-chow is quite telling. He expects an agreement. Striking is that the young fighter doesn’t agree to the actor’s request, he answers with another question: “You don’t need a sparring partner?”. This question reveals that Yoon-Gu had already imagined himself differently. He had pictured a future moment in which he would not merely assist the actor’s training, but share it. In other words, he had already crossed an internal threshold: from helper to potential partner. The question exposes a private projection — a hope — that had not yet been verbalized until this moment.
That is why this exchange marks Yoon-Gu’s transformation. That’s why he is wearing a olive green sweater. (chapter 88) Olive green is not the vivid green of aspiration or idealization, nor the cold institutional green associated with discipline and hierarchy. It is a grounded, muted green — a color of transition. Symbolically, it sits between admiration and autonomy. By wearing it at this moment, Yoon-Gu visually signals a shift away from the champion’s gravitational pull. He is no longer oriented upward, toward an untouchable figure, but sideways, toward a peer relationship he is beginning to imagine. The green does not announce arrival; it marks movement. Growth here is not explosive but cautious, uneven, and still uncertain.
Crucially, this transformation does not stem from insecurity. Yoon-Gu is not suffering from low self-esteem. On the contrary, he speaks easily, moves freely, and voices his expectations without hesitation. What he lacks is not confidence, but self-awareness. He does not yet understand the structure he is entering, nor the asymmetry embedded in it. He mistakes proximity for reciprocity, access for acknowledgment. And the chow chow’s lack of self-awareness is also present, when he imagined that he could have followed to the amusement park. 
(chapter 87) For him, this trip was related to work, while in reality it was a date in disguise.
This becomes clearer when contrasted with the main couple. Between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung, communication is constrained, indirect, and often misaligned, as both are suffering from a low self-esteem and their past traumas. Desires are hidden behind habit, duty, or technical language. By contrast, the dialogue between Yoon-Gu and Choi Heesung is strikingly explicit. Both second leads speak readily. They articulate preferences, make requests, and voice dissatisfaction without visible hesitation. The only difference is that Heesung allows misunderstanding to persist. Joo Jaekyung abruptly corrects it. Neither approach is emotionally generous—but only one produces shock rather than slow erosion.
To conclude, this apparent fluency masks a deeper problem. What is missing here is not expression, but reflection.
Earlier, Yoon-Gu’s actions were shaped by obligation, imitation, or conditional promises (cleaning the floor, holding equipment or a bottle, proving usefulness). Here, the initiative is internal. He is no longer reacting to instructions; he is testing the possibility of recognition. (chapter 88) The desire precedes permission.
The tragedy of the moment lies not in the refusal itself, but in how it is answered. Heesung does not respond to the desire embedded in the question. He bypasses it with a technical explanation — size difference — which neutralizes the emotional risk Yoon-Gu has taken. 
(Chapter 88) The answer restores hierarchy without acknowledging the transformation that has already occurred. Secondly, the answer closes the future by appealing to a supposedly objective limit. Yoon-Gu can never be his sparring partner. The best he can do is hold the mitts and nothing more. The fox is using his seniority and body to have the final say.
This is where Heesung’s pride in knowing turns into arrogance. His explanation contradicts the very logic that governs the gym itself. Joo Jaekyung has just demonstrated explicitly that technique outweighs physical size, that discipline and practice can reverse power relations. 
(chapter 88) Under that framework, Yoon-Gu is not disqualified; he is qualified. He has trained. He belongs. So technically, Yoon-Gu could indeed beat the actor, as the “puppy” has trained for a long time at Team Black.
Yet Heesung’s knowledge is not grounded in the present conditions of Team Black. It is grounded on his past experience: he received special training from Joo Jaekyung. In other words, he is biased. Heesung prides himself on knowing. 
(special episode 1) He knows people’s patterns. 
(special episode 1) He knows how relationships fail. 
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 33) He knows what he does not want. His language is saturated with judgment shaped by past experiences: lovers who become “too clingy,” attachments that turn inconvenient, people who should remain “better off” elsewhere 
(chapter 58). This knowledge is not neutral; it is retrospective and comparative. It is built from what has disappointed him before, and it governs how he evaluates others in the present. He views himself as superior to the champion morally.
This is where the symbolism of the “grass being greener on the other side” becomes essential. 
(chapter 33) Heesung’s orientation is never toward what is unfolding, but toward what might be better elsewhere—another partner, another configuration, another future. His repeated invocation of a “soulmate” is revealing: it displaces intimacy into a hypothetical horizon. By looking at the grass, he is overlooking the flower. Love, for him, is something to be found later, once the conditions are ideal. What exists now is always provisional, always lacking, always subject to replacement. He needs the “perfect” lover, and in his eyes, Potato doesn’t meet his conditions: too innocent and too young. 
(special episode 1) This explicates why the young fighter is only considered as “fuck buddy”. 
(special episode 1)
Potato exists precisely within this gap. Because he wanted to take responsibility. 
(special episode 1), he is present, available, even emotionally invested—but he is never treated as sufficient. He is smaller (chapter 88), younger and as such less experienced, he is positioned as someone who does not yet qualify as a sparring partner, or even less as a boyfriend. Observe how he presented his relationship to doc Dan. 
(chapter 58) Heesung’s use of the pronoun “we” is, on the surface, inclusive. Linguistically, it frames his relationship with Potato as mutual, shared, and consensual. But pragmatically, it does the opposite. The “we” is spoken over Potato’s head, not with him. Thus Potato is physically present but discursively absent. He does not confirm, nuance, or reciprocate the statement verbally. The pronoun thus becomes a rhetorical appropriation rather than a sign of partnership.
What makes the remark particularly uncomfortable is the context: Heesung is not speaking to Potato, but to Kim Dan. The sentence is not meant to communicate within the relationship; it is meant to display the relationship to a third party. In that sense, “we” functions as a prop. It allows Heesung to stage intimacy without assuming responsibility for how that staging affects the person he claims to include. He is not saying that he is dating Yoon-Gu either. In other words, he is behaving like Joo Jaekyung in season 1. 
(chapter 31) He denies the existence of feelings and attachment.
The embarrassment of Potato is not accidental. It is structurally produced by the asymmetry of the situation. Heesung controls the narrative, the tone, and the implication. By adding “in more ways than one,” he sexualizes the bond implicitly, while maintaining plausible deniability. Nothing explicit is said; everything is insinuated. This is knowledge without accountability. Heesung knows exactly how the line will land—on Kim Dan, and on Potato—but he does not take responsibility for either impact.
On the other hand, Heesung feels so comfortable around doc Dan, that he is willing to divulge more. He assumes Kim Dan will “understand” him. He is speaking in a coded register, relying on shared cultural assumptions: that closeness implies sexuality, that sexuality implies connection. In doing so, he treats Kim Dan as a potential ally in interpretation, not as a moral interlocutor. He expects recognition, perhaps even complicity, rather than reprimand or judgment.
This is where the contrast with Joo Jaekyung becomes sharp. Joo Jaekyung struggles to name intimacy and often hides it behind work or discipline—but he does not instrumentalize language to control 
(special episode 1) or humiliate the other. 
(chapter 34) Heesung, by contrast, is fluent. He can name, joke, insinuate. What he lacks is restraint and responsibility. His ease with words does not signal emotional intelligence; it signals control.
Heesung does not call Yoon-Gu weak outright, but the hierarchy is unmistakable: Potato is handled (chapter 88), redirected 
(special episode 2), corrected. (chapter 88) Even when Heesung intervenes on his behalf, it is not through shared responsibility but through dismissal—deciding what is best for him without asking what he truly wants.
This lack of responsibility is crucial. Responsibility, in Fromm’s sense, is not obligation imposed from above; it is the willingness to respond to the other as a subject whose needs and presence matter now. Heesung does not assume this stance. He neither commits nor withdraws cleanly. Instead, he hovers—knowing enough to judge, but refusing the burden of staying.
This explains why Heesung reacts so strongly to the relationship between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. He does not simply misunderstand it; he rejects it (chapter 31) because it violates his model of love. Doc Dan is not introduced or claimed as his boyfriend. For him, it is simply related to the athlete’s jinx. 
(chapter 32). It has no declared endpoint, no moral clarity (chapter 34), no soulmate label. Rather than engaging with what the relationship is doing —how it functions, how it transforms both participants—Heesung tries to name it away: a jinx, a mistake, a lack of feelings. Naming, here, becomes a defense against involvement.
The scene in the penthouse crystallizes this refusal. 
(chapter 34) Heesung enters fully aware of what he is likely to witness. He is not naïve, nor totally surprised. Hence he doesn’t flee right away. Yet instead of acknowledging the reality before him, Doc Dan is not someone the fighter fucks, until he passes out, (chapter 33), he reframes the encounter as an accusation. The man is crazy. 
(chapter 34) Joo Jaekyung becomes the problem, the one who “deserves to suffer.” 
(chapter 58) This moral displacement allows Heesung to maintain distance: if Jaekyung is guilty, then no self-examination is required. Forgiveness—central to this arc (from 79 to 89)—is rendered impossible, because forgiveness would require recognizing shared vulnerability rather than assigning blame.
Potato, by contrast, is repeatedly asked to adapt. Earlier, he cleans, waits 
(chapter 25), accepts deferral. Later, he is displaced entirely. Unlike Kim Dan, who gradually moves from imposed participation to earned agency, Potato is never given a space where effort leads to recognition. 
(chapter 85) However, this panel implies that the young man has already been able to enter competition. Striking is that his promise at the seaside sounds like commitment 
(chapter 59), but the reality diverges. It only binds doc Dan. If the latter returns to Seoul, he has to promise to train with Potato. The reason is simple. He is already committed to the actor, he is already at his beck and call. Potato’s promise echoes the earlier promise forced upon Kim Dan by his grandmother: a future-oriented vow that justifies present sacrifice while guaranteeing nothing in return. 
(chapter 11)
This is the structural tragedy of the Heesung–Potato dynamic. There is confidence and knowledge—sharp, observational, even insightful—but it is not paired with responsibility. And without responsibility, respect and care collapse into condescension. Potato is not met as an equal in becoming, but as someone perpetually not-yet-ready. While Yoon-Gu had been deeply affected by doc Dan’s departure. 
(chapter 78), he didn’t remind doc Dan of his promise. At the same time, observe that none of the fighters apologized or promised something. When they hugged the doctor, they didn’t pay attention to the physical therapist’s reaction: his passivity and silence. The “laugh” lacked genuineness and felt wrong at the time. 
(chapter 78)
But let’s return our attention to the petals Heesung and Potato. Placed beside Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan, the contrast is stark. Jaekyung lacks fluency, but not commitment. He does not know how to speak love, yet he stays. Heesung knows how to speak about dating and love, hence he offers a bouquet of roses. But he does not remain when love demands endurance rather than evaluation.
Secondly, Heesung embodies selfishness, which is also perceptible the way he appears at the gym. (Chapter 88) He had planned to use the gym without the champion’s consent and knowledge. And Potato was not expecting the presence of the main couple either. 
(Chapter 88) This is how it dawned on me why Mingwa recreated such a situation for Heesung. Observe his reaction, when he opened the door. He never answered the question to Potato. In fact, he slammed the door and kept his thoughts to himself. (chapter 88) As you can detect, he remained silent the whole time. It was, as though he was ignoring his lover.
What ultimately exposes the asymmetry in Heesung and Yoon-Gu’s relationship is not overt exploitation, but silence. Episode 88 stages this with remarkable precision. Heesung enters the gym without coordination (chapter 88), without consent from its owner, and without paying any visible cost. He does not announce himself as a guest, does not ask permission, and does not explain his presence. Instead, the intrusion is normalized through omission. Silence becomes the mechanism by which power circulates unnoticed.
Crucially, Yoon-Gu is excluded from the truth of the situation. Readers understand why Heesung is there; Yoon-Gu does not. The actor’s internal reaction (chapter 88) can be read as a moment of comic frustration. In fact, it reveals something far more consequential: this visit was never conceived as a shared activity with Yoon-Gu at all. The training session was not planned for him, nor with him. Yoon-Gu was not included as a subject in Heesung’s intention. He was a means.
This internal monologue exposes the logic of the intrusion. Heesung did not come to train with Yoon-Gu, nor to support him, nor to acknowledge his aspirations. He came to work off his own emotional agitation, to use the gym as a private outlet. Therefore it is not surprising that Yoon-Gu’s presence is reduced to him holding the mitts. His presence is incidental—useful, but not constitutive. When the situation threatens to escalate (chapter 88), Heesung does not think, What will happen to Yoon-Gu? He thinks only of himself: his inconvenience, his exposure, his embarrassment.
That omission is decisive. It confirms that Yoon-Gu is positioned not as a partner in training, but as an accessory to Heesung’s fitness and fun. He provides access, labor, and cover, yet remains excluded from knowledge and from choice. This mirrors an earlier pattern: just as Kim Dan once provided unpaid care under the guise of compensation
(chapter 32), Yoon-Gu now provides unpaid labor and institutional access under the guise of familiarity and generosity 
(chapter 35). In both cases, Heesung benefits from proximity without assuming responsibility for the other person’s risk. Silence, here, is not neutral—it is the mechanism by which that asymmetry is maintained.
At the same time, this regret (chapter 88) confirms that Heesung knows he has crossed a boundary. Yet this awareness produces no corrective action. He does not warn Yoon-Gu, does not acknowledge the risk he is creating for him, and does not assume responsibility for the consequences of being discovered. His concern remains entirely self-directed: embarrassment, inconvenience, exposure. Yoon-Gu’s position is not considered.
The irony is that this silence is beneficial for the chow chow . (chapter 88) It actively conceals Yoon-Gu’s complicity while simultaneously depending on it. Heesung could not have accessed the gym without Yoon-Gu. The most plausible inference is that Yoon-Gu provided entry—either by unlocking the space or by lending legitimacy to Heesung’s presence. Yet when the moment of confrontation approaches, Heesung does not speak. (chapter 88) He does not answer Yoon-Gu’s question—“Is there someone in there?”—because answering would reveal responsibility. Another important detail is that though Yoon-Gu provided the access, he simply followed the actor. The latter is the one opening the door to PT Room and not the member of Team Black. It exposes that the fox is really the one committing the wrongdoing, and he can not blame the chow chow for it.
Silence, here, is not absence of speech but a strategy of avoidance. (special episode 1) Heesung does not negotiate, explain, or repair. He doesn’t give any excuse. He moves through spaces as though access were guaranteed and consequences optional. However, this time, his silence is used against him. 
(chapter 88) Forgiveness, responsibility, and mutual recognition—central to the arc unfolding elsewhere—are entirely absent from his conduct. Where Joo Jaekyung begins to redistribute choice and accountability, Heesung consolidates control by refusing to speak.
This is why Heesung cannot embody forgiveness in this arc. Forgiveness requires acknowledgment; acknowledgment requires speech; speech requires responsibility. Heesung chooses none of these. Instead, he preserves his self-image by leaving others to absorb the impact of his actions. Yet, in episode 88, it is no longer possible.
In this sense, the flower associated with Heesung and Yoon-Gu never opens. Knowledge is present. While Heesung understands dynamics, motives, and outcomes, the chow chow heard all the information 
(chapter 52) about the switched spray, but he only reported one thing: Kim Dan is innocent. So while insight is present, responsibility is systematically deferred. Without responsibility, respect cannot follow. And without respect, what appears as connection is merely use, quietly sustained by silence.
In the end, the other two petals do not fail because of ignorance. They fail because knowledge, when severed from responsibility, becomes a tool of avoidance. Love is postponed indefinitely—always imagined, never practiced. On the other hand, since he knows about the champion’s past sexual habits, it signifies that the actor became the witness of TRUE LOVE. Joo Jaekyung is kissing doc Dan. 
(chapter 88) The irony is that the actor didn’t realize this. He had the impression to be exposed to a similar scene than in the penthouse. (chapter 88) It is important because with this knowledge, he can expose the truth to doc Dan: the athlete loves him. In the past, he could say this without explaining his statement. 
(chapter 35) And now, pay attention to the logo on the doctor’s t- shirt. 
(chapter 88) First, it appears on the left side, positioned close to the hamster’s heart. Moreover, it looks like an orange eye. Orange is not only the color of Heesung the fox 
(chapter 34), but also of friendship and social communication and interaction.
Orange Represents
Adventure and risk taking: Orange promotes physical confidence and enthusiasm – sportsmen and adventure-seekers relate well to orange.
Social communication and interaction: Orange stimulates two-way conversation between people – in a dining room when entertaining it stimulates conversation as well as appetite. Friendship: Group socializing, parties, the community – wherever people get together to have fun and socialize orange is a good choice.
Divorce: The optimism of the color orange helps people move on – it is forward thinking and outward thinking. https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/color-orange.html
That means, doc Dan is on the verge of having true friends. Joo Jaekyung will stop demanding exclusivity by isolating doc Dan from the others. 
(chapter 79) Besides, it is the same logo than when Yoon-Gu was spying behind the closed door.
(chapter 23) That’s the moment Potato realized the truth about the couple: they were intimate. That’s the reason why I am convinced that Heesung will play the role of the messenger and mediator between the wolf and the hamster.
To conclude, I perceive the actor as the bridge between the two main leads. He embodies language, knowledge, love as feeling, but more importantly he stands for friendship and fun, notions which don’t exist in the main couple’s world yet.
That’s it for the first part. In the second part, I will examine the final panel and the significance of the fighters’ return.
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(chapter 87), and the destruction of black glass under Baek Junmin’s foot. 
(chapter 87) Both moments operate under pressure, yet they belong to radically different economies. One gathers force inward to protect, contain, and care. The other expels force outward to fracture, dominate, and erase. The biggest difference is not intensity, but direction—and whether the other is held, or destroyed.
(chapter 87) He asks for strength and luck 
(chapter 87). Kim Dan answers with a gesture, the offered hand accompanied with a wish:
(chapter 87). Only then does the squeeze occur. Words initiate connection; the body confirms it. Speech and gesture align. Pressure becomes care.
(chapter 87) —but they are refused. Baek Junmin is denied any possibility of reply—no space to answer, to justify himself, or even to speak back. 
(chapter 87) The screen interposed between them 
(chapter 87) functions as both a physical and symbolic barrier: it delivers judgment without permitting response. Deprived of dialogue, Junmin is pushed out of language altogether. What remains available to him is not speech, but the body. His answer therefore does not come in words, but through the hand
(chapter 87) and then through the foot. 
(chapter 87) The violence is not misdirected; it is precisely directed at the medium that silences him. The screen is the site of exclusion, 
(chapter 87), before the challenge 
(chapter 87), the champion turns around.
(chapter 87) He looks—not at the crowd, not at the institution, but at Kim Dan. The gaze matters. It establishes a circuit. Like a phone call finally answered, it places both on the same wavelength. Only then does the question come. 
(chapter 87) Here again, language and body are aligned. 
(chapter 87) Kim Dan answers—first with a nod, then with words. The response is clear, immediate, and embodied. And what follows is decisive: the champion raises his arm. 
(chapter 87) 
(chapter 15) 
(chapter 40) 
(chapter 51), its meaning sharpens. For the first time, Kim Dan no longer occupies the position of fan or witness. He functions as judge and jury. 😮 And the champion acts accordingly. He declares himself the winner. 
(chapter 87) Joo Jaekyung is no longer a puppet or zombie, but a man with a heart and voice. 
(chapter 46) It regulates turn-taking, determines who may speak, in what order, and under which framing. As long as it remains in the moderator’s hand, speech is mediated, filtered, and contextualized. Questions lead; answers follow. Meaning circulates vertically.
(chapter 87) He no longer moderates; he reacts. He cannot redirect the statement, soften it, or translate it into spectacle. He can only acknowledge that something has escaped containment. The apology is not moral—it is procedural. It marks the moment the institution loses authorship. 
(chapter 57); he is narrating. He does not answer a question 
(chapter 14) Yet, CSPP 
appears more and more insistently 
(chapter 87), even in the cage
(chapter 87), contrary to before. 
(chapter 15) Either you only see the C or the name is placed out of the frame. 
(chapter 40) Yet it remains unexplained. What does it stand for in the world of Jinx? A sponsor? A broadcaster? The story never defines it explicitly—and that absence matters. What goes unnamed is often what exercises the most power. I will elaborate about it further.
(chapter 36) —depends on mediation. Delay. Scoring. Interpretation. The quiet redistribution of meaning after the fact. As long as nothing is said outright 
(chapter 69), control remains possible. Once speech becomes public, control becomes fragile.
(chapter 87), people in the seaside town, a public that exists before commentary can shape it.
(chapter 87) And the fight already answers the questions the system hopes to postpone. What we see in the cage is not merely a contest of strength, but a clash of communicative regimes. How one fights here is inseparable from how one speaks, evades, provokes, or withholds.
(chapter 87) His movement privileges distance, tempo 
(chapter 87) and visibility. That way he gives the impression that he is superior to the former champion. The middle kick appears not as a finishing tool 
(chapter 87), but as an instrument of disruption—enough to score, enough to interrupt rhythm, never enough to end the exchange. The rest of his offense follows the same logic: repeated punches to the face 
(chapter 87), the hands, the shoulder. Targets chosen not for collapse, but for points. Not to silence the opponent, but to keep him talking through damage. The choice of targets is not arbitrary. The hands and the shoulder are not neutral zones. They are sites of vulnerability that presuppose knowledge. Arnaud Gabriel does not fight, as if he were discovering his opponent in real time; he fights as if he were acting on prior information. 
(chapter 82) He anticipated a diminished MMA fighter at the end of his career who would train at the hotel gym. His punches repeatedly return to the same areas—not to finish, but to aggravate. Not to silence, but to extract fatigue.
(chapter 87) The shoulder carries the memory of surgery and recovery. The hands mediate both offense and defense; exhausting them degrades reach, timing, and confidence. And breathlessness 
(chapter 82)—noticed earlier during training—signals something even more fragile: limits that are physiological, not tactical.
(chapter 87) It aligns disturbingly well with what had already circulated outside the match: commentary about tension, exhaustion, time away from competition. Whether through media narratives, observation, or informal channels of intelligence, the opponent’s body has already been translated into information.
(chapter 47) Already discussed. Already framed. Gabriel’s reliance on point accumulation is inseparable from this logic. 
(chapter 87) He does not need to dominate the body; he needs to activate its known limits and let the scoring apparatus do the rest.
(chapter 87) —his decision to close distance, to counter decisively, to end the exchange rather than prolong it—appears less like impatience than resistance. He does not correct the narrative. He interrupts it.
(chapter 51) The fight is no longer about what happens between bodies, but about who controls evaluation. And that’s how they could rig the match between Baek Junmin and Joo Jaekyung. 
(chapter 70) acquires a different meaning. What he condemns as arrogance is not a moral failure, but a structural adaptation. These fighters have learned that they do not need to finish fights with a knockout. They only need to prolong them—to survive them—because the system will finish the sentence for them. Therefore, the moderator’s commentary during the match introducing the new Korean fighter takes on a clearer function. 
(chapter 71) He frames the rookie as someone “waiting for the right timing,” subtly suggesting a coming knockout rather than prolonged survival. The language is important: it reassures the audience that decisiveness still exists within the system, that power is merely deferred—not absent.
(chapter 71) The director is not persuaded. Hwang Byungchul reads the situation differently. He recognizes stiffness, fear, and overreliance on structure—not composure, not strategy. Where the moderator sees patience, the director sees hesitation. Where commentary insists on strategy, experience detects rigidity and lack of instincts.
(chapter 81) It is an assumption: that the outcome no longer requires athletic intervention. The champion is treated as a finished product, a celebrity whose role is to endure visibility, not to alter the terms of the fight itself.
(chapter 82) and inside the cage. 
(chapter 87) Publicly, he is courteous. Measured. Even complimentary. 
(chapter 82), gentle and polite gestures, and tactical distance— away from the spotlight, away from overt confrontation. His restraint is not humility, but alignment. He performs civility so that judgment, narration, and authority can be outsourced to the institution. That’s why for him, fighting is strongly intertwined with fun and he sees himself more as a star than as an athlete. He is definitely influenced by MFC. Hence we can say that his suit mirrors his mind-set. Gabriel’s suit does not soften his presence; it disciplines it. The patterned fabric signals rigidity rather than elegance—structure over fluidity. It mirrors his fighting style: calibrated, rule-bound, resistant to improvisation. Nothing about his appearance invites rupture. Everything is designed to hold form.
(chapter 52) He lets others speak, provoke, circulate images, manage money, create pressure. 
(chapter 54) His power does not come from direct address, but from displacement. When he does appear, it is rarely to argue. 
(chapter 49) It is to smirk, to whisper, to apply pressure obliquely. In both cases, the logic is identical: control is preserved by never being fully present.
(chapter 87) It is more observation. He allows the opponent to speak first—to reveal the structure of the exchange. 
(chapter 87) When it lands, it collapses distance. It forces the opponent inward. And crucially, it targets the center of the body—not the face that earns applause, but the core that sustains movement.
(chapter 87) and delivers an uppercut. 
(chapter 87) This is not escalation; it is completion. Where Gabriel sought to keep the fight open, Joo Jaekyung compresses it. He refuses the long exchange. He refuses circulation. He refuses to wait for judgment. His strategy is not to be evaluated later, but to be undeniable now. 
(chapter 87) This is not silence imposed from outside, but silence produced by gravity. Once the body crashes, breath cannot return, and speech has nowhere to perch. 
(chapter 87)
(chapter 74) 
(chapter 87) 
(chapter 2) While the jinx held, action could still occur, but speech could not carry consequence. Words dissipated, were deferred, or were absorbed by systems designed to neutralize them. Powerlessness expressed itself as speechlessness.
(chapter 87) His actions arrive before meaning can be reassigned. His words arrive where no answer is prepared. In this sense, episode 87 marks the moment Joo Jaekyung becomes fluent in his own discipline. Not merely competent, not merely dominant, but articulate. His movements surprise 
(chapter 5) which had surprised his manager Park Namwook. 
(chapter 5)
(chapter 69) , the switching, the method—the institution could have responded. Clarifications could be issued. Liability could be managed. But by speaking elliptically, by pointing to manipulation without anatomizing it, the champion places the burden of interpretation onto the audience. And MFC can not deny the existence of an incident in the locker room.
(chapter 62) They are not close enough to trust the system blindly.
(chapter 57)
(chapter 69), by allowing attention to cluster around foreign misconduct 
(chapter 69) and public embarrassment 
(chapter 74) Early incidents reframed as character. Let’s not forget that he was stigmatized as a thug by the members from Team Black too. 
(chapter 47) Nothing new needs to be invented. Only reassembled. They know about the dragon’s past, because they brought Baek Junmin, someone who resented the celebrity for his wealth and fame. 
(chapter 31) The system does not deny the champion’s words ; it reclassifies them. What was a refusal of manipulation becomes “anger issues.” What was naming becomes “acting out.”
(chapter 72) It only needs to repeat an already accepted story: abandonment as necessity, violence as justification, disappearance as victimhood. A story the system knows how to circulate. And Hwang Byungchul never questioned her decision so far. 
(chapter 78) Secondly, Kim Dan is now able to distinguish the past from the present. Finally, thanks to doc Dan 
(chapter 62), he did so many good deeds in the seaside town that the inhabitants and the patients from the hospice won’t accept such accusations. I believe that such people won’t see “motherfucker” as a problem at all, they will rather see it as a part of his role after the match. What will remain in their mind is rather the accusation and riddle he voiced: the stunt Baek Junmin played. 
(chapter 87), which already tells us that CSPP does not function as a simple broadcaster. My idea is that CSPP operates as an intermediary apparatus: a company that packages events, sells broadcasting rights, coordinates visibility, and transforms violence into consumable spectacle. In other words, CSPP does not show fights; it produces events. This explicates why CSPP was present right from the start 
(chapter 14), but barely visible. But the moment it caught my attention in Paris, I realized that its increasing visibility displays the success of MFC as company. Observe that when the champion faced Randy Booker, the weight-in took place on the same day than the fight and in the arena, not at a prestigious hotel like in Paris. Here, the champion held a conference many days before the weight-in, and the latter took place the night before the match with Arnaud Gabriel. Secondly, you can observe the success of MFC through the banners. In Busan, the website of MFC was posed in the background next to CSPP. 
(chapter 50), only MFC and CSPP. But in Paris, it is now totally different. 
(chapter 48), and distribution platforms, insulating each layer from direct responsibility. If something goes wrong, blame can always be displaced sideways.
(chapter 35), his suspension 
(chapter 57) 
(chapter 70) His matches are scheduled at hours accessible even to a Korean hospital 
(chapter 41) or hospice patients. 
(chapter 71) becomes intelligible. It is not a mark of anticipation, but of expendability. The match is placed where attention is thinnest, where failure or success carries minimal consequence. By contrast, Joo Jaekyung’s fights are positioned to be seen. The asymmetry exposes how dependent MFC’s visibility economy is on him—not as a competitor, but as the primary organizer of audience attention.
(chapter 47) His presence circulates through curated highlights and controlled conference footage rather than open broadcast. 
(chapter 47) His rise is engineered through selective visibility. 
(chapter 47) Weak opponents are chosen. 
(chapter 47) His image is inflated before he ever faces Joo Jaekyung. CSPP does not need to expose him fully; it needs only to prepare recognition. However, CSPP is an official company, they can not control rumors among fighters. 
(chapter 47) Thus the manager suggested this to his boss just before: 
(chapter 46) By mentioning the existence of spies, he incited the main lead to keep his distance from the doctor and the members so that the rumors about the underground fighting wouldn’t reach his ears.
(chapter 14), the United States, Paris—the fights are placed in high-visibility slots. Loss must be witnessed. Decline must be shared. By contrast, the fight between Baek Junmin and Joo Jaekyung takes place in the morning 
(chapter 49), a time of dispersed attention, private viewing, and reduced collective response. Visibility is not maximized; it is managed. 
(chapter 49) CSPP’s role, then, is not neutral mediation. It is temporal governance. It decides when exposure becomes dangerous and when it becomes profitable. It does not silence events; it times them.
(chapter 77) Once Joo Jaekyung does not contest the loss of his title—once he does not sue, demand more investigation, or interrupt the administrative process— MFC and CSPP no longer need to justify anything. Delay becomes normalization. Silence becomes confirmation.
(chapter 87) is dangerous not only for MFC, but for CSPP itself. If his connections to the underworld surface, CSPP is no longer a distributor of sport, but a conduit for illicit spectacle. Contracts dissolve not because violence occurred, but because violence escaped framing.
(chapter 49) Under normal medical protocol, this should have stopped the fight immediately. 
(chapter 41) No athlete should perform when injured. Yet MFC Medical remains silent, the staff simply treats the wound. The bout proceeds. Only later—after attention has shifted, after consequences have begun to circulate—does the same medical authority step forward to issue disciplinary sanctions and a suspension 
(chapter 52) There were cameras in the arena. What cannot be allowed to surface is proof of foreknowledge: that an injured athlete was permitted to fight under institutional supervision. Thus it raises the question if the match in the morning was broadcast on TV. 
(chapter 52) Structural complicity is translated into an individualized incident. What occurred in the cage is no longer the issue; what occurred afterward becomes the narrative.
(chapter 46) that began elsewhere—losses already acknowledged when Choi Gilseok brought him into the system in the first place. 
(chapter 30) This implies that he won’t remain passive and silent like in the past, relying on structure and institutions (Entertainment agency…) and accepting to become a scapegoat. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 85) represents the positive reflection of this night 
(chapter 58) 
(chapter 58), when the physical therapist chose to give up on the athlete and stop listening to his heart. Here, I am not only referring to the numerical symmetry but also to the doctor’s shifting vision of Joo Jaekyung.
(chapter 85), Jaekyung appears with a towel around his neck. This simple object evokes water and sweat, but in Jinx, these elements are never neutral. They are tied to one of the champion’s earliest traumas: the humiliation of being called “dirty” 
(chapter 75) and “smelly” as a child. This is why Jaekyung learned to perfuse his body with cologne after every shower 
(chapter 75) and why physical proximity has always carried the risk of shame. Hence he kept people at arms length. In chapter 40, when he rescued Kim Dan from the security guards, he kept his distance 
(chapter 40) — he had not yet showered, for the towel on his shoulders was stained with blood. Mingwa was indirectly referring to the champion’s psychological wounds. 
(chapter 40) It was, as if the fear of smelling “wrong,” of being perceived as contaminated, was still dictating his movements. Hence he could only claim doc Dan as one of his own, but not as his “physical therapist” or even “family”. And interesting is that doc Dan copied his attitude. In the hallway, he maintained a certain distance from the athlete. 
(chapter 40) the moment he dried off 
(chapter 85) His hair is unstyled, his scent unmasked — and yet he approaches Dan without hesitation. He even kisses him. The item that once symbolized rejection now signifies trust: without fragrance, he is certain that doc Dan will not call him “dirty,” will not recoil, will not shame him. What once provoked distance becomes an unexpected bridge, revealing that Jaekyung is finally letting someone remain close, when he feels most vulnerable. The night in Paris does not simply suggest a return of desire; it announces the return of hope 
(chapter 85) and trust — and perhaps even the moment when Dan chooses, for the first time, to be honest with his own body and heart. 
(chapter 85) 
(chapter 85) — fulfilling, without knowing it, a secret wish the physical therapist has harbored since childhood 
(chapter 61) [I will elaborate it further later]. And perhaps this is why the moment feels so disarming: because the downfall is not tragic but tender, not humiliating but intimate. Sweet, even.
(chapter 85), when a single careless comment shattered the champion’s composure and revealed just how fragile his newfound hope really was.
(chapter 85) In contrast, both Park Namwook and coach Jeong Yosep wear generic MFC T-shirts. 
(chapter 85) Dan is lost in his thoughts — anticipating the night ahead with the champion — and has barely touched his food. Park Namwook notices this. One might think, such a remark displays the manager’s concern for the main lead’s well-being. However, the manager adds that the other members of the team are all almost finished. With such a remark, it becomes clear that the manager is urging the protagonist to finish his plate. Although Park Namwook addresses Dan as if showing concern, the content of his remark betrays his true priority: not Dan’s well-being, but the team’s schedule. By pointing out that ‘the rest of us are almost finished,’ he urges Dan to keep pace, treating him as staff who had to follow the group rather than someone with personal needs. As you can sense, schedule is essential for the manager. However, because doc Dan couldn’t reveal the true reason behind his behavior, he gives an excuse for his lack of appetite. 
(chapter 53) The manager’s words bring Joo Jaekyung back to reality and its uncomfortable truth that Dan’s presence now is still bound to a contract — temporary, contingent, never fully his. In other words, with his remarks, Park Namwook is reopening old wounds which shows his total blindness and lack of finesse and of empathy. He treats the last match, as if nothing bad had happened. The incident with the switched spray is simply erased.
(chapter 53) leaving without thinking; now, after Dan vanished from his life entirely, that earlier departure feels like a sign he failed to read. Park’s question brushes against this bruise, and Jaekyung’s lips reflect the discomfort.
(chapter 85) The younger fighter suddenly bursts into panic, declaring how nervous he would be in Jaekyung’s place, how his heart would be pounding out of his chest. His outburst is sincere, naïve, and completely focused on the champion — he never once considers Dan’s feelings. Yet these words strike deeper than he intends. At the mention of a pounding heart, Jaekyung’s eyes lift upward in a brief, involuntary movement. It is the smallest gesture, but it exposes everything he wishes to hide. Because his heart is pounding — but not for the match. It is because of doc Dan! 
(chapter 85) the need for reassurance, the wish to rewrite the pattern of the past, the quiet hope that Dan will not leave him again — not tonight and not afterwards.
(chapter 85) Schedules are his armor, punctuality his hiding place. Whenever something threatens to slip beyond control, he retreats behind procedure. 
(chapter 85), as soon as the athlete stands up right after his recommendation and announces he is now returning to his room. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 85) In theory, this is the perfect window to do what he used to do in the States 
(chapter 38) and Korea 
(chapter 48) before a big fight: watch his opponent’s videos, study their habits, rehearse counters. If we only looked at the clock, we might assume he spent the evening thinking about Arnaud Gabriel.
(chapter 85) From 7:02 onward, the question is no longer “How do I beat Gabriel?” but “How do I win doc Dan’s heart?” The clock from 7:02 to 11:00 p.m. stops being a “training window” and becomes an emotional countdown. He is no longer the champion preparing for an opponent—he is the man hoping not to be abandoned again. This is why the later scene at the door feels so contradictory: when Dan finally arrives, Jaekyung behaves like someone who couldn’t wait. 
(chapter 85) He opens the door and immediately grabs him inside 
(chapter 85), cutting off any possibility of hesitation. The way he drags him over the threshold, presses him against the wall 
(chapter 85) This is not the controlled, casual emperor of old; it is someone who has been holding back for hours and refuses to risk even a second in which Dan might change his mind. 
(chapter 65) and the comment of the champion in front of this movie: 
(chapter 29) Moreover, I consider this scene 
(chapter 85) as a new version of Choi Heesung’s advice: Doc Dan just needs to sit back and enjoy!! 
(chapter 31) Joo Jaekyung is now doing everything, as deep down he wants to become the perfect lover! And how had I described the night in the States? 
Back then, the hamster Dan had become the champion’s perfect lover, especially because he had kissed his face, hugged him and confessed to him. 
(chapter 39) But if his fear to lose doc Dan was so huge, why did he ask him to come so late then? 
(chapter 38) One might reply that the athlete desired to maintain appearances and as such to hide his suffering and anxiety. In other words, he was hiding his emotions behind routine, Jinx-sex would always start at 11 pm. However, this idea is not entirely satisfying because once doc Dan was in his room, the fighter was no longer hiding his emotions and desires. 
(chapter 72), when the latter would return late from his “work” and the death of his father 
(chapter 73). 
(chapter 85) Because doc Dan could have refused. He could have used his queasiness as an excuse, could have stayed in his room, could have claimed exhaustion. Instead, he obeyed the request — a request sent by someone who had hurt him deeply in the past. Doc Dan’s arrival is proof that he is not rejecting him. Proof that the night is real. Proof that the attempt to do better might actually matter. At the same time, doc Dan couldn’t miss the true meaning behind this text sent in front of others: the athlete’s anxiety and suffering. 
(chapter 85) This explains why his worried gaze followed his fated partner. 
(chapter 85) In other words, the text had a different meaning. It was not an order, but rather a wish…and it had nothing to do with his match against Arnaud Gabriel. During that night, Joo Jaekyung is not seeing a surrogate fighter in front of him or a sex toy, but his real partner, his future boyfriend. This means, this night stands in opposition to the one in the penthouse: 
(chapter 85) This is why he touches Dan’s face instead of flipping him over.
(chapter 85) — something he has never done before. This does not come from instinct. It comes from intention. It comes from effort. It comes from learning. He is indeed showering doc Dan with love and tenderness, therefore it is not surprising that the “hamster” is moved sensually and emotionally. Exactly like during the Summer Night’s Dream, he is reaching nirvana, hence Jinx-philes are constantly seeing stars,. 
(chapter 85) 
(chapter 85) — or the emotional slip that comes with resurfacing feelings: the therapist losing distance, falling back into intimacy. All of these readings sound plausible at first glance. 
(chapter 85) Styled up, hardened with gel 
(chapter 82) When the hair stands, the image stands.
(chapter 85) — but not the way adults or professionals usually do. 
(chapter 71) So doc Dan could recognize the little boy in the athlete, the more he sees the protagonist with his hair down. Furthermore, I noticed that contrary to season 1, Doc Dan has now more memories of the “wolf” facing him. 
(chapter 85) In the past, he would more look at him from behind: 
(chapter 35) 
(chapter 35) Seeing his face reflects not only the increasing care for each other, but also the improving communication between them. 
(chapter 85) more mature, more “masculine” in the traditional sense. This explicates why the stylists had to dress him up. 
(chapter 82) Yet such an intervention did more than prepare him for the cameras — it tightened the restrictions around his own image, reducing the fighter’s rights over how he appears to the world. With the suit, he appeared older and more powerful. The French fighter leans into age, while the Korean champion leans into youth — a symbolic inversion that reinforces the central tension in the Paris arc: Gabriel performs adulthood; Jaekyung rediscovers the adolescence he never lived. 
(chapter 85) But just as Jaekyung begins to slip into these youthful, softer identities, MFC reasserts control.
(chapter 85) hair up, face polished, a look engineered for posters and rankings. He becomes once again the Emperor — the man who must appear older, sharper, more intimidating, more manufactured.
(chapter 79) This is the boy from the childhood photograph.
In the rain, with his hair heavy and unstyled, his gaze dark and sensual, Jaekyung appears nothing like the commanding emperor. He looks free — freed by weather, freed by desire, freed from roles. It was foreshadowing, not just fanservice. It announces the end of the « jinx » in reality. 
(chapter 85) He is describing himself. His sweetness is the taste of freedom — freedom from performance, freedom from control, freedom from MFC, freedom from fear. He is enjoying this moment. Dan tastes sweet because Jaekyung is finally tasting the life he never allowed himself to want.
(chapter 21) The image of winged rescue and divine protection hangs over the very piece of furniture that, throughout the series, has functioned as Dan’s private sanctuary. This is not incidental. In Jinx, the couch is tied to his deepest memories of care and abandonment, and Mingwa activates this symbolism each time Dan gravitates to it.
(chapter 21) Why does he consistently feel safer on the couch than in a bed? 
(chapter 29) Why, after the second swimming lesson, did he refuse to return to the bed 
(chapter 81), even though he was exhausted? Why does he place the teddy bear 
(chapter 84) —his last substitute for lost parental affection—on the couch and not on the bed? And finally, why has he always harbored the secret wish to be carried to bed, as confessed through his memory in chapter 61? 
(chapter 10) Secondly, at no moment, we ever witness the grandmother carrying the little boy to bed. Either she is rocking him to sleep outside the house 
(chapter 47) or he is already in the bed. We never see her bringing him to bed. 
(chapter 44), 
(chapter 44) traces from parents. And now, you comprehend why the hamster could never truly rest in the bed. The couch is therefore not an adult preference; it is a trauma imprint. Resting there feels safe because beds—large, empty, abandoned spaces—became reminders of whoever no longer carried him. Hence it is no longer surprising that he woke up, when he sensed the vanishing of warmth. 
(chapter 84): the bear stands in for a lost comforting presence. It also represents the main lead, Joo Jaekyung. The latter is gradually reentering in the physical therapist’s heart and life. Therefore it is not surprising that there, he squeezes the hand of the toy. It is also why Doc Dan curls around it like a child who deep down hopes to be chosen, lifted, and held. And it is why, even as an adult, his body still whispers the same yearning: someone, please carry me to bed again.
chapter 40, chapter 65, chapter 68, chapter 79)
(chapter 85) and he was still able to arrive on time in the arena. 
(chapter 40) For me, it is a clue that the manager would always request to meet around 7.00 am, when the match was at noon. But what should do the athlete do during all this time? He can only get nervous and feel pressured. 
(chapter 81) I noticed that in different scenes from season 2, the athlete started waking up later and even after doc Dan. 
(chapter 66) But the manager’s rigid schedule threatens even that. An early morning summons drains the fighter’s cortisol reserves before the match has even begun, creating a long, empty corridor of waiting — a period where tension, anxiety, fatigue, and irritation ferment in the body. Instead of resting, centering, and preparing, the champion would spend hours fighting against the clock imposed on him.
(chapter 54) , he might even jump to the wrong conclusion: that Jaekyung drank again — this time behind his back. 
(chapter 82) The irony is striking. Two days before the match, it was Park Namwook who overindulged with the others, yet he may now project that same carelessness onto the athlete. In his mind, the DND sign does not simply mean “rest”; it becomes a warning signal, a possible confirmation of the irresponsibility he fears but has never actually witnessed. Thus I can already imagine him panicking.
(chapter 82), his look 
(chapter 82), his free time and took care of the champion’s emotional needs. In Paris, the « hamster » became the champion’s manager de facto, the unofficial right-hand. That’s why if they are late and they need a scapegoat, the manager can blame the physical therapist for the « delay », he would always come late to appointments (chapter 17: meeting the doctor) and to the fights (Busan, in the States).
(chapter 75), the perfume 
(chapter 75), the nights of sex before a fight 
(chapter 75). His words seemed like a confession, a key to the riddle of the Night Emperor. But do we truly know him now? Yes and no. Yes, because his testimony reveals patterns we had only noticed before. No, because those patterns are only the ones he decided to share. The tattoos 
chapter 75) that suddenly appeared on his body 
(chapter 75), for example, were left unmentioned — proof that silence still surrounds him.
(chapter 75) Why fight as though every match were a matter of life and death? Why keep repeating the same acts, long after survival was secured? 
.(chapter 75) They are the product of a long chain of humiliations, betrayals, and systemic exploitation, each layering onto the next until a young man’s raw talent was encased in a carapace of compulsions. To understand the jinx is to understand how the protagonist’s life collapsed around the word loser, and how the fighting industry transformed his private shame into public myth.
(chapter 72) Even before stepping into a professional cage, his life had been a series of trials to prove he was not worthless. 
(chapter 74) Hunger, poverty, bullying, insults— each branded his body with a language of violence. Among them came his father’s words, spat like a curse: loser. 
(chapter 73) That insult crystallized everything. The young boy absorbed it as truth, so much so that every later fight would be less about victory and more about silencing that single syllable. 
(chapter 75)
(chapter 69)
(chapter 75) — a boy who fought with the desperation of someone who had nothing else. Victory after victory gave him the illusion that he had escaped his father’s shadow. As long as he was winning, he could suppress the pain, bury the insult loser, and silence the memory of that cursed night when his father died and his mother abandoned him. Triumph became his shield, proof that he was not what he had said he was.
(chapter 75) 
(chapter 75) To them, a fighter’s struggles had only one explanation: weakness. Park Namwook and the other coach dismissed his losses as nerves 
(chapter 75), as if the only measure of worth were what happened under the spotlight. They never thought to ask what kind of weight he was carrying, what kind of nights he was surviving before he entered the cage. While the other fighters were well aware of the champion’s insomnia 
(chapter 75), Park Namwook still has no idea of the champion’s struggles. This shows how disconnected he is from his “boy”.
(chapter 74) bodies to be tested, pushed, and discarded if they broke. Where Jaekyung’s defeat cracked open childhood trauma, they saw only performance failure. What he lived as suffocation and despair 
(chapter 75), they reduced to cowardice, bad luck or lack of discipline.
(chapter 75) Shadowed hands stretched over his body, pressing down, suffocating him as he tried to sleep. The man was dead, but still he choked the air from his son. It was, as if the father wanted to bring his son to the afterlife.
(chapter 75) Even before his first loss, Jaekyung fought like a cornered animal, pouring every ounce of strength into proving he could not be beaten. That’s why he rose so fast. But why? The reason is that all his opponents were reflections of his “father”. 
(chapter 29) Hence all the challengers have empty eyes and a smirk on their face, just like Joo Jaewoong. 
(chapter 75) Consequently, his matches always looked like life-and-death struggles. He wasn’t strategizing against a specific fighter; he was exorcising a ghost. That’s why he never refused a challenge. His opponent never mattered. Besides, as long as he could win, it didn’t matter. 
(chapter 75), the more the cracks showed — and the ghosts of his father and mother made every fight feel like a replay of abandonment and accusation. The five losses 
(chapter 75) were not just setbacks in his career; they were the repeated reopening of a wound that would never heal. Each one confirmed his father’s curse. Each one reinforced the sense that he was marked, that no matter how high he climbed, he would always be dragged down again.
(chapter 73) To the boy, it was a cry for pain and survival — an instinctive urge to escape despair and criticism. To the father, it was betrayal. Already emasculated by failure and drink, he was reminded of his wife’s discontent, the specter of another abandonment. He lashed out the only way he knew: 
(chapter 73), and that the man’s final judgment on him would never be undone. Love and hatred, longing and guilt fused in that moment. He loved his father despite the abuse. And yet he would forever wonder if leaving — even just threatening to leave — had killed him. Worse, because death came so suddenly, there was no time left. 
(chapter 73), unable to voice his own vulnerability. 
(chapter 66) — speaking not with fists or insults but with tears and an embrace. 
(chapter 66) His sleepwalking reacting to a simple touch 
(chapter 65), his dissociative pleas 
(chapter 66) give Jaekyung the words his father could not say. Where the father’s unconscious leaked out in aggression, Dan’s unconscious offers gentleness and honesty. Both men speak from a place deeper than reason; one chained Jaekyung to guilt, the other opens the possibility of release. In Dan’s trembling body, Jaekyung sees the tender reflection of his father’s hidden plea 
(chapter 73) Why does the champion have no grand-parents?
(chapter 74) With no parents, no siblings, and eventually no wife, he had nothing to fall back on and saw in the criminal world another form of “family”. The family he created became his one fragile shelter — and when that shelter cracked, there was nothing left to hold him.
(chapter 72) His violence expressed his powerlessness. And when his son shouted his desire to leave the “dump of a house,” 
(chapter 57) Violence and insult became his only idiom. “Loser” was not simply an accusation, but the displaced confession of his own defeat: I was abandoned. I failed. I have nothing.
(chapter 73) The boy’s boxing talent was a source of pride — proof of strength — but also a threat. Strength meant escape. Escape meant abandonment. The father, who had already lost his wife and his dignity, projected onto his son the terror of losing everything once again. His resentment was not born of disappointment alone but of recognition (unconsciously): you are me, and you will leave me too.
(chapter 65) The absence is not an oversight but a theme. Jaekyung comes from severed roots: no grandparents, no siblings, no extended family to lean on. Hence he was alone at the funeral. 
(chapter 74) His father may have been an orphan, just like his mother too. Therefore the latter was emotionally unavailable, and so he inherited not only trauma but also silence. By contrast, Dan has at least one surviving figure — flawed as she is — who keeps the family thread intact. That contrast makes Jaekyung’s bond with Dan all the more significant: it is not just romance, but an attempt to build a family line that never existed before him.
(chapter 73), while keeping Jaewoong’s own origins shrouded. Hwang had someone by his side — gentle, quiet, but present — while Jaewoong had no one, as according to me, the mother was counting on her “husband”‘s success and dream. The director’s stability, however fragile, was rooted in that maternal figure. Jaewoong had no such guide, and without it, he simply made the wrong choice.
(chapter 74), she never once spoke to her son about it, never asked what he felt. She did not grieve with him, nor allow him to grieve. Besides, the main lead’s words were ambiguous: Was the father dead or had he abandoned his son too? The fact that she never asked exposes that it didn’t matter to her. She was not interested in the truth, her only concern was herself — her new life, her fear of losing it. Where the father left him branded, the mother left him erased. 
(chapter 75) One condemned him, the other abandoned him, and between them Jaekyung was left with neither recognition nor belonging.
(chapter 73); every triumph, by the echo of rejection
(chapter 73). To win was to prove his father wrong, but to stand alone in victory was to prove his mother right. Success and emptiness became inseparable.
(chapter 56), seemingly fragile and dependent. But unlike her, he stays. Where the mother left, Dan endures. He only left because of the champion’s final words: 
(chapter 51) 
(chapter 73) mirrors what the director later whispers to Jaekyung: 
(chapter 75) Both men — the broken father and the regretful coach — carry the same hidden insight: that fighting cannot be the whole of life, and that reducing yourself to fists and violence only leads to ruin.
(chapter 75) This is the wolf’s ritual in front of the tender mirror: the fighter who lived by curses and silence finally meeting their reflection transformed into gentleness and endurance.
(chapter 75) This man’s jinx was startlingly simple: he read the Bible before every match. One book, one ritual, one anchor. To outsiders, it may have seemed quaint, even laughable, but to Jaekyung it was enviable.
(chapter 75) When he prayed, it was not only for victory, but for coherence. Win or lose, the ritual bound him to a sense of belonging that Jaekyung had never tasted.
(chapter 75) If ritual could bend fate, he would build his own. But where the Bible fighter had a single, unifying story — scripture, God, fellowship — Jaekyung had nothing to draw on. No faith to lean on, no parental blessing to inherit, no safe home to return to. Instead, he began to stitch together a mosaic of rituals, each one disguising a different childhood wound. To outsiders it looked obsessive, neurotic, almost superstitious. To him, it was survival. Each gesture was both repression and remembrance, a scar disguised as armor. And this is the paradox: the rituals made him strong enough to survive, but too broken to live. 
(chapter 75) By using another body, he cleared his head, numbed the loneliness, and convinced himself he was in control. But it was also a grim reenactment of abandonment: he could take without being left, dominate rather than risk being deserted. At the same time, he considered his sex partners as toys in order to avoid guilt. A toy can not die, it can be “thrown away”.
(chapter 75) But in truth it was a disguised memory of hunger 
(chapter 72), of nights when there was nothing to eat, of shame attached to poverty. 
(chapter 75) To drink milk was to rewrite the past: I will not go hungry again. Yet the act was also a reminder that he once had.
(chapter 27) , self-punishment, the willingness to suffer endlessly for the cage. He didn’t fear pain. Their sudden appearance 
(chapter 75), a reminder that he had entered a machine in motion, a system that swallowed fighters whole and spat out statistics. From that point, the acceleration was merciless: by April, he was in the 272nd bout against Randy Booker 
(chapter 14); by June, the 293rd against Dominic Hill 
(chapter 75), he had not merely “built” a career, he had been consumed by one. There was no time to recover from injuries, no space to process victory, no room to integrate defeat. No wonder why his shoulders were in bad shape. 
(chapter 75) Every fight blurred into the next, every opponent older, stronger, more experienced. And yet Jaekyung fought them all with the same desperate, survival-driven ferocity.
(chapter 27) still called him an athlete — someone whose body required balance, protection, recovery. But MFC and KO-FC never did. For them, the main lead or his colleagues were addressed as 
(chapter 14) “The Emperor”, “a crazy bastard”
(chapter 40), “my boy”, 
(chapter 47) “a potential star.” Not a person, not even a professional, but branding material — a body to be consumed by audiences and discarded once spent. The absence of the word athlete marks what he lost: recognition as a human being. And guess what? 
(chapter 41) Only doc Dan at the gym saw the fighters as athletes!
(chapter 47). Thus only doctors are allowed to do them officially. But Jaekyung’s rise shifted that meaning. As “The Emperor,” he normalized tattoos for the new generation of fighters, transforming what once marked marginality into a badge of visibility. This is why even Oh Daehyun, one of his admirers and members of Team Black, now carries one: 
(chapter 8) The celebrity’s suffering literally redefined the aesthetic of the sport. His body, turned billboard, became part of the league’s branding.
(chapter 14) ripping open the scar of his father’s “loser” and his mother’s absence and silent parentification. Not long after, an article exposed his shoulder injury 
(chapter 35), reducing years of discipline to a liability on the page. Later came the suspension narrative 
(chapter 54), his temper framed not as the product of exploitation and scheme but as proof of unfitness, as if his rage were a crime instead of a symptom. 
(chapter 5) the name Seo Gichan appeared here for the first time… a faceless name!
(chapter 69) The danger lay in the very identity of his next challenger. If they pitted him against a newcomer who had rocketed through the ranks as quickly as Baek Junmin once did 
(chapter 47), questioning the selection of Baek Junmin, is so crucial. It shows that the manipulation of opponents was no accident — it was systemic. Matches were not about fair combat but about narrative management: making sure the emperor’s story served the company’s balance sheet.
(chapter 69) And strikingly, no one questioned it. Not Park Namwook, not the officials, not even Joo Jaekyung or the commentators who had once praised his streak. The silence was louder than any insult.
(chapter 75) Here, it looks like a mirror, but naturally it is a fake one. It was not earned with fists alone; it could be stripped, reassigned, reshaped at will. One tie, one whisper, one adjustment in the rankings, and the Night Emperor was dethroned without ceremony.
(chapter 75), not for intimacy but to clear his head and stave off loneliness, emptiness and his abandonment issues.
(chapter 75) must be read in this light. It is not a relapse into the system’s treadmill, nor a blind return to the pitfall laid before him. Notice that he does not say he will fight in the fall, nor does he mention the upcoming match that everyone else is waiting for. 
(chapter 71) Instead, he frames his goal with a word that changes everything: reclaim.
(chapter 73), but he lost his father and his mother abandoned him. 
(chapter 51) When his world threatened to collapse again — the tie with Baek Junmin, the looming humiliation — he erupted in rage. He screamed at Dan, he let the words spill out violently, breaking the silence that had once shackled him. It was an act of defiance against the curse: if he could not silence the nightmare, he would shout it down.
“Don’t you trust me?” (chapter 54) That moment reverses the old script entirely. Where his father’s last word was condemnation, Dan’s is invitation. Where his father’s voice ended the dialogue forever, Dan opens one. Where his father made trust impossible, Dan asks for it. Besides, the latter encouraged him to reflect on himself. 
(chapter 51) The mirror is clear: the cycle can be broken, but only if he dares to answer the question that was never asked of him before. Therefore it is not surprising that the physical therapist’s question appeared in the champion’s vision: 
(chapter 54) His unconscious was telling him to have faith in his “doctor”. Thus later, the champion told the director of the hospital this: 
(chapter 61) He was acknowledging the main lead as a real physical therapist. 
(chapter 62)— and even to those closest to his body — it looks like nothing more than sex. That was all the uke from chapter 2 saw, and it was enough for him to sneer:
(chapter 2) The insult landed with devastating familiarity, not as a new wound but as an echo of his father’s curse: “loser.” Both words reduced Jaekyung to nothing — not a man, not an athlete, just a fraud kept alive by crutches.
(chapter 2) In slamming his former partner against the wall, he was not merely silencing a lover’s cruelty. He was fighting the ghost of his father, the voice that had branded him weak, cursed, unworthy. The jinx that kept him alive was being twisted into proof of his failure, and he could not bear it. 
(chapter 2)
(chapter 62), Dan recoiled. 
(chapter 62) To him, “jinx” meant objectification, a reduction of their bond to sex. 
(chapter 62) but as a therapist he trusted. His words about wanting to return to the “usual pre-match routine” 
(chapter 62) were, in his mind, a way of saying: I need you to bring back wholeness, to help me steady myself again. But because Dan only knew fragments of the jinx, the message landed with devastating distortion. 
(chapter 41) but not the others. He had never seen how layered and fragmented Jaekyung’s survival system truly was: the shower and perfume, the milk, the tattoos, the obsessive fight schedule. Thus, when Jaekyung invoked the jinx, Dan heard only objectification: you want me for my body. However, this is not what the “wolf” meant. Thus he got surprised by such a statement. 
(chapter 62) For Jaekyung, the plea was about coherence; for Dan, it sounded like reduction.
(chapter 22) He cooks breakfast for Jaekyung, offering something warm, homemade, human — a substitute for the cold, industrial glass of milk. 
(chapter 22) or cry out of joy.
(chapter 54) throws the plate away 
(chapter 54), or sits at a vast table in silence. 
(chapter 54) But when Dan cooks, Jaekyung is surprised, even touched. For once, nourishment is not consumption but connection. The milk was always a disguised memory of deprivation; Dan’s meal becomes the antidote — food as presence. So for him, the prematch-routine was also referring to the meals prepared by his fated partner. And I feel the need to bring another aspect. Since there was no “family” in the athlete’s life, he never got the chance to discover the joy of the table. 
(chapter 22) Hence it is not surprising that he looked at his phone, while the others were eating and discussing. He never had a real conversation with a family member around the table. 
(chapter 45), whispering that he misses Jaekyung’s warmth, reveals that the champion’s natural scent is already enough. He never gets to see this — Jaekyung doesn’t know how deeply Dan treasures his smell.
(chapter 40) Here he turned around and placed his lover in the middle of the bed. He even let him rest. 
(chapter 2), and not the other rituals? Because to admit the rest would be to expose the origin of the jinx: the father’s insult, the mother’s abandonment, the hunger, the bullying. Sex was the only ritual that could be spoken without directly dragging the past into the room. It was the “safe” shorthand — though tragically, it became the most dangerous. Homosexuality is definitely a stigma among boxers and MMA fighters.
(chapter 68) In his own way, he was showing him that he did care! He was more than just a body… or even a physical therapist!!
(chapter 13) — helpless, cornered, often pleading. Thus the champion taught the doctor to overcome his fear and fight back: 
(chapter 26) This imbalance was no accident. It replayed Jaekyung’s own childhood roles: he became what his father had been to him (the better version naturally, for he is the mirror of truth), and forced Dan into the position he had once held himself. Through Dan, Jaekyung unconsciously re-enacted his trauma, reversing their positions as if to master what had once mastered him. That way, he was pushed to mature emotionally! That’s why he could connect with the main lead unconsciously. His trembling words in Chapter 51 
(chapter 71) He believes to know the truth, while he is ignorant. He is insecure, extreme in his behavior (drinking)
(chapter 71), but also selfish and questioning, still fragile yet capable of protest. He is struggling with his own emotions and thoughts. 
(chapter 71) How can he trust the athlete, when he doubts himself so much? From my point of view, he is on the verge of become “mature mentally” and as such “responsible”. At the same time, Jaekyung is revealed as the adult in crisis. His exhaustion 
(chapter 70)
(chapter 74) It is because thanks to the director’s confession, the “hamster” is able to see the champion as a “a kindred spirit“, an orphan and as such as the younger “boy”. 
(chapter 7) 
(chapter 26), because it is play, because it is chosen.
(chapter 69) It is not about treatment or jinx, but about presence. This hug reframes the meaning of strength. True strength is not the ability to fight endlessly, but the ability to hold and be held, to mirror” is like touching oneself! Let’s not forget that the mirror represents the reflection of a person. Respecting the physical therapist signifies respecting oneself!
(chapter 36) He can remain indifferent to their “provocations”, as he has long matured emotionally. 
(chapter 36) He can retaliate differently. With his money and power, he can prove to them, he is no loser! 
, released in anticipation of Chapter 70, is more than a promotional teaser. It is a moment frozen in time, yet brimming with motion—emotional, symbolic, and narrative. We see Joo Jaekyung embracing Kim Dan with both arms, pressing him tightly against his chest. There is no resistance, no distance, no tension in the frame. The palette moves from gray and brown fading into violet and pink, blooming into soft light. There is vapor, there is breath, an allusion to life. And most strikingly, there is stillness.
(chapter 11), every glare, and every awkward silence 
(chapter 67) between these two, this hug feels monumental. 
(chapter 68) and the public hug on the dock in Chapter 69. 
(chapter 68) He rests his chin not on Dan, but on his own hand, his arm propped on the edge of the bathtub. This detail is telling: even in a moment of supposed closeness, Jaekyung relies on himself for support, not on Dan. He is physically near but emotionally braced—still holding himself apart. His thoughts are private, tender, and possessive. In a rare moment of introspection, he confesses that 
(chapter 68) This line (“I’ll keep him right here in the palm of my hand”) is deeply revealing. The champion frames care through the language of possession. The palm is open but hierarchical; it suggests that Dan is small, fragile, and dependent on Jaekyung’s will to hold or release. He does not yet see Dan as an equal. Even as he softens, his emotional vocabulary is shaped by superiority and containment. The hug is real, the sentiment sincere, but the dynamics remain unbalanced. And since Dan is asleep—unable to reciprocate, respond, or challenge—the embrace becomes more about the wolf’s soothing himself than forming a mutual bond. Furthermore, Dan is not even facing Jaekyung. 
(chapter 68) In the next panel, we see Dan’s head from behind. This small but deliberate movement suggests a dynamic effort to hold onto him more firmly—to assert closeness, perhaps, but also to reposition him as something to protect and possess. The scene is filled with motion, both physical and psychological. And this motion, this shifting, stands in direct contrast to the stillness of the teaser image. 
(chapter 69) Yet, when faced with renewed pressure and stress, he falters—leaving Dan behind. 
(chapter 69) The illusion of control dissipates, revealing that his earlier vow, however heartfelt, was not yet unshakable. 
(chapter 69) rather than a moment of mutual resolution. Jaekyung offers no words, yet a silent gesture of care and vulnerability.
(chapter 69) that Jaekyung is wearing it, the change in angle—viewing the hug from behind—deliberately conceals it. 
(chapter 55) In the new illustration, the hamster’s back is no longer representing anonymity and indifference, but visibility and care, for the champion is now facing his fated partner. In other words, doc Dan’s back in the teaser stands for uniqueness and high value. He can not be replaced. Moreover, doc Dan is not walking away, nor is he asleep. 
(chapter 45) Back then, the champion refused the expensive key chain, symbolizing a missed opportunity for emotional connection. Both men yearned for attention and affection, but failed to express it. Here, in contrast, the champion offers something far more meaningful than a 14,000₩ and free lodging —his unguarded embrace. And Dan, by remaining still, appreciates the moment. 
(chapter 21) Dan became fluent in a silent, physical language of care. She often asked him not to cry 
(chapter 57), unable or unwilling to face his vulnerability. To her, composure meant strength, and emotion—especially in the form of tears—was something to be managed or tucked away. Her love came in the form of caresses, pats
(chapter 47) and composed embraces—gestures repeated with calm precision. These touches were predictable, rhythmic, and soothing, but they also suppressed genuine emotional exchange, the symbol of toxic positivity.
(chapter 57) the momentary pause of a hand
(chapter 19), the direction of a gaze. Here, she was not looking at her grandchild who was talking on the phone. It was, as if she was excluding herself from the conversation. These gestures became his emotional compass—not because they were transparent, but because they were all he had.
(chapter 5) never still—giving the impression of involvement, of care in action. But this motion avoided vulnerability and responsibility in reality. She never clung, never trembled. Her gestures conveyed comfort but not surrender, presence but not change, and not support either. They were not truly emotionally together. 
(chapter 47) to hold her hand, to initiate closeness 
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 56). This reversal of roles placed the burden of emotional stability on his young shoulders.
(chapter 57); I’ll come back home, once I am all better”
(chapter 65) a mythic figure whose emotional distance he interpreted as noble sacrifice. Her constant reassurances and carefully controlled gestures fed into this perception, convincing Dan that love meant loyalty, restraint, and silent endurance. 
(chapter 47), to stabilize the person meant to support him. Now, he is receiving without shame or hesitation. The Emperor’s silent desperation, his refusal to hide behind ritual or false strength, creates the space for Dan to feel treasured—not pitied, but wanted.
(chapter 65) or stand-ins 
(chapter 36) for affection has ended. The spotlight now belongs solely to Jaekyung and Dan, who no longer require mediation to reach one another. This shift becomes particularly evident when contrasting the teaser with earlier moments of evasion, silence, and misplaced dominance—especially through the lens of Park Namwook’s slap and Jaekyung’s own past deflections.
(chapter 29), ignoring Dan’s presence and concern. His rejection of the doctor’s offer of comfort or companionship underscores not only his emotional detachment but also the absence of true support from his supposed team. The manager, Park Namwook, is nowhere to be seen, 
(chapter 42) or offered silence in return. He had no teamwork ability in the end contrary to the hamster who “assisted” his grandmother. But it is not surprising, since Park Namwook has always relied on his boy. 
(chapter 17) 
(chapter 52) Surrounded by others, the manager attempted to discipline Jaekyung not with understanding, but through force. The slap was not an act of care—it is an assertion of dominance. It reduced Jaekyung to a volatile asset and spoiled child, not a man in pain. Striking is that this gesture actually exposed the manager’s weakness and anxiety. He was the one reacting as a spoiled child, for he masked his wrongdoing with tears. 
(chapter 52) The reason is that he couldn’t face the terrible outcome and his own responsibility. He needed a scapegoat. Thus he blamed the champion for everything. But by doing so, he refused to share the burden and the athlete’s unwell-being. Striking is that this slap served as a wake-up for the athlete. From that moment on, he stopped relying entirely on his “hyung”. He was pushed to make decisions on his own. This harsh gesture mirrors Shin Okja’s attitude toward Kim Dan, 
(chapter 52), seeing it as disruptive or shameful. Their guidance demanded emotional control, not emotional honesty.
(chapter 66) or use violence to “tame the wolf”. That’s the reason why he is accepting the offer from the CEO of MFC. He is pushing the Emperor to return to the ring, but the problem is now that doc Dan was officially recognized as a member from Black Team. 
(chapter 66) the moment the Emperor carried away doc Dan. This looks like an “embrace”. 
(chapter 66)
(chapter 13), who had been awakened by the champion, though contrary to the fairy tale, this arising was associated with pain. [For more read the analysis 
(chapter 60) But how did they ended up both cursed by the same spell? The reason is simple. They were either halted by guilt and self-loathing or distorted by the desperate need to escape a traumatic past. Yet, amidst this stasis, small cracks are beginning to appear, suggesting that the flow of time cannot be denied forever. The past can not be repeated 
(chapter 64) or become the present or future. At the heart of this struggle lie symbols of doors, windows, and reflections—metaphors for how both characters perceive their realities and their chances of breaking free.
(chapter 44), he still does not fully include himself in this awareness. His concern was limited to his grandmother’s limited time 
(chapter 59), reflecting his selfless role as a caregiver. As someone who has long allowed others to define his time—whether as a physical therapist or as a prostitute—Kim Dan has yet to acknowledge his own mortality. Even during the lavender-tinted night, while he determined the length 
(chapter 64) and nature of the encounter 
(chapter 62), he did so for the sake of debts, not for himself. 
(chapter 64) The recent death of the puppy serves as a stark reminder 
(chapter 59) that he is not exempt from time’s reach, that he too is aging and vulnerable. But the doctor failed to recognize this warning. He only viewed it as a sign of his own powerlessness, reducing it from his own perception. He overlooked the fragility of life as such. 
(chapter 35), he created an illusion of freedom that only masked his deeper confinement—his glass prison. When Kim Dan closed the door and left 
(chapter 64), the illusion shattered, revealing the reality of his loneliness. The jinx, 
(chapter 55) once confined to the bedroom, now permeates his entire life, binding him to a past shaped by his abuser’s cruel words.
(chapter 55) The view created an illusion of openness and freedom, masking the reality of his confinement. Glass, by its very nature, is transparent—a barrier that is invisible yet unbreakable, creating a false sense of freedom. The window’s clarity hid the fact that it was, in truth, an impassable wall that confined him, turning the promise of escape into a cruel irony. By focusing on the horizon, he could avoid looking inward, denying the unresolved trauma left by his anonymous abuser. 
(chapter 54) The ghost’s words, ‘
(chapter 54) were designed to create the illusion of eternity—as if time itself was under the phantom’s control. This assertion not only sought to freeze Joo Jaekyung in a perpetual state of inadequacy but also to distort his perception of change as impossible. Trapped in a cycle of hatred and self-loathing, the athlete’s vision of freedom was limited to the false infinity of the horizon. 
(chapter 53) And now, you comprehend why the champion chose not to look for Kim Dan after his departure. He was so close to the window, making him think that he had a “choice”. That’s how I realized that the closer he would stand to the window, the less he would get Enlightenment. Hence he is portrayed eyeless here. 
(chapter 53) Ironically, the window—symbol of escape—became his glass prison, a barrier that reflected the endlessness of his struggle rather than a path to liberation. 
(chapter 19) —a window that offered no view of the outside world. This reflected his entrapment in a life defined by guilt and sacrifice, unable to envision a future beyond repaying debts and fulfilling duties. The window’s visible cracks and makeshift repairs represent not only the physical deterioration of their environment but also the psychological fragmentation within Kim Dan himself. By choosing to patch the window rather than replace it, Shin Okja’s actions reflect a mentality of denial and resignation—an unwillingness to confront the full extent of their impoverishment and suffering.
(chapter 19) suggests a deeper symbolic resistance to change or moving forward. In a sense, the grandmother’s decision to live with the broken window mirrors her acceptance of a life defined by limitations and unspoken grief. 
(chapter 51) Observe how the “hamster” is once again turning his back to the door. However, the bloody footprints became an evidence for Kim Dan that he had been abandoned and left behind. And now, you comprehend why the main lead took the athlete’s request seriously and literally. It is because the door in the past was the symbol of betrayal and abandonment. This explicates why he is so sensitive to the sound of a closing door and could recognize it, even if his ears and eyes were covered. 
(chapter 35) 
(chapter 21) Consequently, I interpret the following scene like this: 
(chapter 19) When he was standing here, he must have sensed it as a betrayal against his own grandmother. Hence he employed the expression “goodbye” and not “farewell” to diminish his guilt. No wonder why he chose to hide his move from his relative and bring the Wedding Cabinet to the penthouse. Under this new perspective, my avid readers can grasp why Kim Dan’s nightmares in season 2 were linked to the opened door: 
(chapter 57) His unconscious was telling him this: Shin Okja had broken her promise. She was about to abandon him. He had the impression that he was reliving the past. That’s the reason why he was scared and suffering. 
(chapter 57) In addition, I believe that his unconscious was pushing him to come clean with the past, to reveal the changes in his life. It was impossible for both of them to keep such unreal promises. 
(chapter 56) revealed the existence of a past trauma. It highlighted his own fear of abandonment and rejection—an emotion he had long denied. The door, a supposed barrier against the outside world, now stood as a reminder of all he had pushed away, including his own need for connection. Therefore he never left his door open in the penthouse: 
(chapter 55) That’s why I perceive this scene as an important step for Kim Dan himself: 
(chapter 64) By opening and closing the door, he is overcoming his abandonment issues. He becomes the ruler of his own life (time and relationship). He is freeing himself from the mental torment which readers could witness in earlier episodes. 
(chapter 24), yet the latter didn’t get fooled at all. He found out the true nature of their relationship. 
(chapter 19) the Wedding Cabinet in Kim Dan’s home functioned both as a mirror and a false window, preserving an illusion of timelessness. 
(chapter 19) Unlike the rest of the dilapidated house 
(chapter 10), the cabinet remained pristine, suggesting a futile attempt to halt the passage of time and maintain the status quo. 
(chapter 53) By throwing it away, Kim Dan unknowingly released time from its prison, breaking the spell that his grandmother’s control had cast over him. This act was not just a rejection of his past but an unconscious acknowledgment that time was moving forward—that he could no longer live as if he were already dead. Simultaneously, this gesture symbolizes his separation from his grandmother, breaking the illusion of perpetuity that she maintained. So while he might have been by her side physically 
(chapter 53), he was deep down miles away from her emotionally and mentally. This observation explains why he could object to her suggestion. 
(chapter 57) On the one hand, it shows that he was maturing, on the other hand as a young adult, it is clear that he is destined to make mistakes. He has always defined himself as the caregiver, but he forgot his own true nature: he is a human before anything else. And what is the definition of humanity? I would say, the capacity of benevolence and the inevitability of mistakes. It reflects the dual nature of human existence—the potential for compassion, kindness, and altruism on one side, and the propensity for mistakes, weaknesses, and moral failings on the other. And that’s exactly what the doctor has been mirroring to the champion in the lavender-tinted bedroom: 
(chapter 64) Joo Jaekyung was in his eyes a human, and not a champion. The irony is that with this idiom “always”, he is implying that he had hopes and expectations. The athlete would change and treat him better. Since the doctor has always been the embodiment of “selflessness”, the gods made sure to remind him of his own true nature: “mistakes”. That’s why he is often making blunders 
(chapter 1) to the point that I called him “Mister Mistake”. 
(chapter 43) On the other hand, his missteps are there to teach the fighter to drop his perfectionism and to bring the notion of entertainment in his fated partner’s life. Kim Dan is funny in his own way. 
(chapter 64) He doesn’t respect humans in general. The irony is that by criticizing Joo Jaekyung, the doctor is overlooking his own nature. He is also a sinner. 
(chapter 57) Is it a coincidence that the doctor’s cold attitude takes place in chapter 60 -64? 
(chapter 61) No, as the number 6 sounds similar to sex. Moreover, don’t forget that Satan’s number is strongly associated with 6 (666 or 616). From my point of view, the “hamster” is on his way to become an adult and as such a sinner as well. The physical therapist’s stubbornness reminded me of the behavior of a teenager who believes to know everything about life, while in verity, such people lack experiences. And what did the nurse say about the main lead? 
(chapter 57) He should nurse himself for his halmoni’s sake so that the latter wouldn’t worry. From my point of view, if doc Dan gets sick, he could be the catalysator for her deteriorating health. But now, it is time to return our attention to the “champion”. 
(chapter 61) But why did he want to return to the past? It is because of the ghost’s criticism 
(chapter 54) ‘You’ve never been good at anything’ were designed to freeze Joo Jaekyung in time, trapping him in a mental prison where change was impossible. I would even add, the mysterious person gave a negative connotation to “change”. On the one hand, the champion was pushed to prove the tormentor’s statement wrong, on the other hand, this implied that one “loss” would be perceived as a validation of the ghost’s claim. This signifies that his obsession with maintaining his title stemmed not from pride but from a desperate need to refute the man’s statement. We could say that the fighter fought not out of fun, but out of hatred and fears. 
(chapter 64) 
(chapter 64) That’s why the door 
(chapter 64) Hence the author focused on his wide opened gaze. Kim Dan’s intervention was painful but necessary, because through this reflection, the athlete’s motivation to fight is bound to change. In the future, the fight won’t be deadly serious like before, he won’t act like a tyrant in the ring where he couldn’t control his rage. 
(chapter 1) He will see his opponent as an artist too. 
(chapter 21) with her, because he felt treasured. 
(chapter 61) 
(chapter 63) —no matter how reluctantly—represents the second turn. With the doctor’s cold rejection, he is forced to choose: What does he want in life? Only the champion title or something else? 
(chapter 64)
Hence the latter will become his hyung. For me, there’s no doubt that through this confrontation, the athlete’s respect for Kim Dan can only increase. 
(chapter 27), and he noticed the quietness of the ocean 
(chapter 62), I am expecting that he will go to the beach. A new version of this scene: 
(chapter 59) But this time, that would be a conscious choice. That’s how he will reconnect with his true self for good. But strangely, I am expecting that he won’t be on his own. I am quite certain that this man will make a similar experience than the grandmother: 
(chapter 53) However, from my point of view, Joo Jaekyung should witness the sunrise and not sunset… which would announce his rebirth. There was only one sunset in season 1, which was linked to Shin Okja’s mortality: 
(chapter 47). Moreover, in season 1 and 2, the doctor was often connected to the sunset: 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 17) And we had the beach here in the background.
(chapter 48) This was an ominous sign for the champion’s symbolic “death” and rebirth. Sun and moon are natural tools to determine the flow of time. 
(chapter 61) to the champion’s expensive car 
(chapter 61), which symbolizes his personal and emotional odyssey. The car embodies a dual symbolism: on one hand, it represents his quest for happiness, freedom, and purpose; on the other, it signifies civilization and his disconnection from nature. Each frame highlights not just his physical travel but the deeper changes he undergoes along the way.
(chapter 61) marks a pivotal moment: his journey reaches its destination at the hospice. This “final stop” symbolizes his decision to live closer to Kim Dan and find a sense of rest and belonging. However, the screeching wheel also represents an unconscious choice by the fighter. At this stage, he perceives his visit as temporary, limited to his rehabilitation. 
(chapter 61) This explains why, later, the athlete is shown honking at Kim Dan while driving in the opposite direction, illustrating that his mindset had not yet shifted fully. 
(chapter 61) In the final scene, the car is no longer present, symbolizing the completion of his journey, as he settles near Kim Dan and redefines his purpose. By settling near Kim Dan
(chapter 61), Joo Jaekyung shifts his focus from external accomplishments to internal growth and emotional connection.
(chapter 61) Park Junmin, displays a striking lack of empathy and a clear focus on self-interest in his interactions with Joo Jaekyung across two pivotal chapters. In Episode 54, he highlights Joo Jaekyung’s prolonged recovery, urging him to rest but failing to show genuine concern for his well-being. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 61) This statement reflects his agenda rather than any genuine concern for the champion’s future. 
(chapter 49) And what is the other common denominator between these three characters? 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 56), the lawyer, and the manager from the entertainment agency, who all used similar tactics. 
(chapter 36) They all had expectations on him.
(chapter 61) While we do not see his gaze, his expression oozes dissatisfaction, revealing that he is fully aware of the manipulation at play. This moment mirrors his reaction in Chapter 6 
(chapter 6), where he recognized how Kim Dan like the others were exploiting him for his money and reputation. However, this time, his awareness reflects growth: thanks to the doctor’s polite refusal 
(chapter 60), Joo Jaekyung now knows about the sincerity and humility of Kim Dan in contrast to those who treat him like a commodity. Thanks to Kim Dan, he is able to reject the pseudo-suggestion and instead prioritize a more genuine and respectful dynamic. He instinctively rejects the offer by stating that he will receive treatment elsewhere, a decision that catches the surgeon off guard and further showcases Joo Jaekyung’s resistance to being controlled. Turning away from the hospital, Joo Jaekyung unknowingly embarks on a journey shaped by his emotional needs, though he remains unaware of the full implications of this decision.
(chapter 61) marks a period of superficial introspection 
(chapter 61) where he begins to rationalize his actions. 
(chapter 61) In his mind, this scenario is nothing new; he is simply leveraging his resources to secure treatment from Kim Dan 
(chapter 61), much like he has done countless times before in other contexts. However, this rationalization obscures a critical difference: he is no longer in control of the dynamic.
(chapter 61) As he adjusts to a life dictated by Kim Dan’s schedule, he begins to recognize the limitations of his previous reliance on fame, money, and connections. This realization is not immediate but unfolds as he navigates the challenges of adapting to a new way of life. The loss of his VIP status becomes a catalyst for personal growth, forcing him to confront his vulnerabilities and redefine his sense of self beyond his achievements. This implies that the balance of power is moving closer to equity, though it is not achieved yet. Kim Dan’s refusal to return to the gym compels Joo Jaekyung to adapt to his terms, diminishing the power dynamic that previously defined their relationship. Kim Dan is now the one controlling the champion’s time. This shift signifies the erosion of the transactional nature of their relationship. No longer a boss commanding an employee, Joo Jaekyung becomes a patient seeking help from a professional. 
(chapter 61) That’s why Kim Dan can leave his side right away after the treatment. Moreover, the main lead feels no longer obliged to talk to his fated partner. He interacts as little as possible with the MMA fighter. 
(chapter 61) The champion is confronted with silence and emotional distance revealing that Joo Jaekyung is looking for something else. I would even add that he needed to experience this new approach as failure in order to force himself to change his MO and mind-set. This loss of status as a VIP underscores a larger theme in the narrative: the futility of relying on external markers of success to navigate personal relationships.
(chapter 32) 
(chapter 32), the “hamster” learned to be cautious about such “generous offers”. 😂 That’s why the physical therapist is rejecting any assistance from the athlete. Because of this reminder 
(chapter 60), Joo Jaekyung lost all his credibility in the doctor’s eyes. From that moment on, Kim Dan is perceiving any offer or genuine concern as a trick and fake assistance with selfish intentions. Hence the hamster can no longer see the celebrity’s genuine and selfless action, like this one: 
(chapter 61) Each time Kim Dan turns his back on him 
(chapter 61), it reinforces Joo Jaekyung’s subconscious pursuit. The honking scene represents reality—Joo Jaekyung knows what he wants (here his attention) and continues to follow Kim Dan, yet he does not recognize the emotional dependency forming through these actions.
(chapter 61) This transition is not just physical but deeply symbolic, contrasting his former life of isolation and detachment in the penthouse with a new environment characterized by community and connection.
(chapter 61) Its luxurious yet cold atmosphere symbolizes his exclusion and lack of roots. It is a sterile world. 
(chapter 61) The T-shirt he wears, emblazoned with “Fair of God Essentials,” subtly reflects his evolving mindset. The phrase evokes themes of humility and essentialism, aligning with his journey from a life defined by material excess to one centered on genuine connection and simplicity. The notion of “being neighbors” further emphasizes his integration into the community—a stark contrast to his isolated existence in the penthouse. The house is no longer just a space but a reflection of his evolving priorities.
(chapter 61) Drawing from past experiences, the champion believed that treating Shin Okja well would win Kim Dan’s favor. In earlier episodes, Kim Dan expressed gratitude with a gentle smile 
(chapter 22) when Joo Jaekyung made efforts to bring a smile to his grandmother’s face, even going so far as to cook him breakfast afterward. 
(chapter 22) Having missed Kim Dan’s meals and the intimacy they symbolized, Joo Jaekyung unconsciously imagines that this approach will recreate that connection. 
(chapter 61) The doctor is showing his disappointment with his mouth. Kim Dan, burdened by his own painful experiences with his grandmother, has come to see their relationship as fractured. 
(chapter 57) Shin Okja’s rejection of Kim Dan, telling him he was a stranger and should return to Seoul, further deepened the divide. In a significant moment, Shin Okja uses for the champion the phrase “our little town,” 
(chapter 60), unaware of the rejection Kim Dan experiences from his grandmother. Joo Jaekyung may even believe that the old man in the town is a relative of Kim Dan, further solidifying his misunderstanding. Note that he doesn’t investigate Kim Dan’s life, he judges him based on impressions and appearances, especially since he can no longer talk to him. These interactions underline a crucial misalignment: while Joo Jaekyung interprets Shin Okja’s words as inclusive and warm, Kim Dan can only be reminded of his exclusion and estrangement. Shin Okja’s conversation with Joo Jaekyung will undoubtedly play a significant role in the future: a point of no return.
(chapter 61), gestures she denied her own grandson in season 2 —it can only exacerbate Kim Dan’s feelings of alienation. The zoomed panel of their hands 
(chapter 61), but seems to have forgotten that Kim Dan is in a similar situation. 
(chapter 57) By moving to that place, the athlete can say that he belongs to that place and can claim his closeness to the grandmother. 
(chapter 61), the reality is far more complex. Kim Dan’s insistence on maintaining professional boundaries forces Joo Jaekyung to confront the limitations of his influence and the necessity of respecting Kim Dan’s autonomy. The daily routine of seeking treatment 
(chapter 61) He can no longer hide his special relationship behind work.
(chapter 61) This means that his move announces a change in their relationship: privacy. They are neighbors and as such acquaintances. 
(chapter 61) Despite working in a hospice surrounded by trained nurses 
(chapter 61), no one else notices or comments on this obvious injury. It was, as if the staff including the director were all blinded by the celebrity’s status and wealth. 
(chapter 61) So unconsciously, they came to develop the following belief: only elderly people can get sick. This explicates why the doctor and the nurse recommended rest to Joo Jaekyung 
(chapter 60). They imagined that Kim Dan was simply suffering from a burnout. 
(chapter 59). He didn’t make the distinction in the end.
(chapter 61) Joo Jaekyung’s sincere concern, however, is short-lived for two reasons. 
(chapter 61), creating an emotional barrier that Joo Jaekyung respects 
(chapter 61), which absolves him of any perceived responsibility for Kim Dan’s injury. This logical deduction, while correct, also highlights the limits of his emotional insight at this stage. Although he recognizes the physical signs of distress, he does not yet fully grasp the emotional struggles underlying them and the danger behind this huge bruise.
(chapter 61) who serves as a symbol of motherhood and nature. Boksoon’s own experiences, including the loss of a puppy 
(chapter 59), highlight the impact of nurturing and loss, shaping her behavior toward both her puppies and humans. She should become more attentive and reliant on humans, notifying them if something is wrong. Her heightened sensitivity positions her as a potential bridge between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung, subtly training the champion’s nurturing instincts. Hence in front of the house, she stands between the main couple. 
(chapter 57) This missed opportunity underscores the consequences of neglect, in contrast to Boksoon’s increased attentiveness. On the other side, the old man paid attention to Kim Dan’s odd behavior (his alcoholism
– chapter 57 -, his workaholism 
– chapter 57 ) Hence I am assuming that he will be a source of information for the champion. And now pay attention to their position in front of the house: 
(chapter 37), Joo Jaekyung now operates within a framework where he must respect boundaries and take responsibility for his actions. This transition signifies his understanding that money cannot shield him from the realities of interpersonal relationships and the consequences of his past behavior. To conclude, he can no longer cross the line and return to his old self.
(chapter 60), deteriorating physical health 
(chapter 60) — challenges this notion. The photographs from episode 60 subtly introduce the fifth puppy’s death as a poignant symbol of Kim Dan’s precarious fate. 
(chapter 60) The puppy’s appearance in only one photo (the second one from left) among many mirrors Kim Dan’s fragile existence, 
(chapter 60) deepening the parallel between them. This connection becomes even more striking when recalling that the grandmother once likened Kim Dan to a puppy 
(chapter 53), emphasizing his vulnerability and dependence on others.
(chapter 60), he rested him on his healthy shoulder to provide support. This method of carrying, while practical in the moment, placed uneven strain on Jaekyung’s body. The weight resting on one side risked injury to his back and disrupted his balance, subtly reflecting the physical toll of his desperation to save Kim Dan. This small but significant detail underscores the sacrifices Jaekyung was willing to make in his attempt to protect him. However, since Kim Dan was unconscious, he couldn’t see the wolf’s kindness and selflessness. 
(chapter 60) the green cross and the name “Light of Hope” likely caught his attention, inspiring him to believe the hospice could offer immediate assistance. Jaekyung’s desperation was evident in his drenched appearance after rescuing Kim Dan from the ocean 
(chapter 60) reflected not only his uncertainty about whether the hospice could offer assistance but also the sheer urgency of his actions. This moment underscores the physical and emotional toll of his determination to save Kim Dan. Jaekyung risked worsening his own physical condition, driven by the hope that help would be available Yet the irony of this moment lies in the true purpose of the hospice: it is not a place for treatment or healing but a program dedicated to end-of-life care. 
(chapter 57)
(chapter 58), such as two older women 
(chapter 58). Yes, there were two small details, yet full of meaning. Even the landlord 
(chapter 58) nicknamed “old man” 
(chapter 59) by Heesung, symbolizes this demographic trend. The hospice’s focus on senior care reflects a broader societal issue in South Korea: a declining birth rate coupled with an increasing elderly population. 
(chapter 57) In addition, the empty bedroom where Kim Dan is staying—with its untouched guitar, furniture, and books—suggests it once belonged to a teenager who left home and never returned. The unchanged state of the room symbolizes the stagnation and loss felt in these regions, further highlighting the broader societal issues at play. This shows that Jinx is not merely a classic love story; it also paints a nuanced portrait of South Korean society and its challenges. By prioritizing elder care without addressing the needs of the youth, the hospice embodies a false promise of hope—one that may ultimately exacerbate the very demographic crisis it seeks to alleviate. 
(chapter 59), indicating their capacity for medical intervention. However, this approach reveals an underlying paradox: while the hospice caters primarily to an aging population, it lacks a sustainable strategy to address the exodus of younger generations, whose departure threatens its long-term viability. This issue is further illustrated by the hospice director’s decision to allow the facility to be used as a location for a movie shoot, 
(chapter 41), yet we never got to hear where the money went. This potential transformation underscores the underlying complexities of the hospice’s current operations, as it navigates between providing care for the elderly and responding to broader societal challenges. By situating Jaekyung in this dynamic, the narrative subtly hints at his capacity to influence change, bridging the gap between the hospice’s limitations and the community’s evolving needs.
(chapter 60) —a consequence of removing his IV needle—symbolizes his quiet surrender and deteriorating health. When Kim Dan arrived at the hospice, he carried the faint hope of finding solace 
(chapter 53) However, this hope was met with disappointment 
(chapter 57) – which he never expressed -, reflecting the deceptive promise of the hospice itself. Kim Dan’s fate seems to mirror not only the unnoticed death of the fifth puppy 
(chapter 59) but also his grandmother’s diminishing expectations of him. 
(chapter 56) She expressed twice that she no longer needed him. 
(chapter 57) However, all this time, she had been his motivation and reason to live. Once likened to a puppy, Kim Dan’s vulnerability and struggle for recognition remain central to his story, highlighting the fragility of his existence. His malnutrition, possibly linked to a deficiency in vitamin K and compounded by his alcohol dependency, exacerbates his fragility, making his situation increasingly perilous. Vitamin K, essential for blood clotting and bone health, is derived primarily from leafy green vegetables and produced by gut bacteria. A deficiency can result in symptoms such as dizziness 
(chapter 57), easy bruising 
(chapter 13), excessive bleeding and slow wound healing—all of which align with Kim Dan’s deteriorating condition and the trail of blood he left after removing his IV needle. 
(Chapter 54) Like mentioned before, this logo could be referring to a pharmaceutical company. 
– episode 59), suggesting a temporary space for patients nearing the end of life. Moreover, observe that the colors of the curtains in the patients’ room is orange 
(chapter 56) 
(chapter 56) and not white. This observation aligns with the assumption that this room is reserved for those on the verge of dying, shielding terminally ill patients from witnessing another’s death. 😨 
In the drama, a character searches for his CEO and friend Kang by pulling back closed curtains in an emergency room, 
discovering different patients behind each one until finding the right person. 
This reinforces the notion that closed curtains signify the presence of others, even if their identities remain hidden. In addition, when the doctor treated the patient Park Jinchul, the curtains were closed. 
(chapter 56)
(chapter 56) If others are indeed present, their isolation hints at a bleak reality: death would occur behind closed curtains, without companions or acknowledgment. This setting forces Joo Jaekyung to confront the fragility of life and the limits of money, as even wealth cannot shield anyone from the inevitability of death. 
(chapter 53) That’s the reason why I am inclined to think that someone was /is present behind the curtain, but chose to remain silent. However, contrary to Team Black, such a person should intervene, if my theory is correct. And there is another evidence for this hypothesis. Since in episode 60 Joo Jaekyung offers a new contract 
(chapter 6) Nevertheless, back then, the deal was made without any witness. That’s the reason why I come to the conclusion that someone else was present in that room, yet contrary to the past, this person will intervene which stands in opposition to the symbolism of the room: death, secrecy and abandonment. And that can only be a patient who experienced the talent and care from Kim Dan. Joo JAekyung has never met any previous patient from Kim Dan before, but this is what readers got to hear from the nurse: 
(chapter 21) which would push him to have a change of heart and show his vulnerability. What can he fear from a dying or terminally ill person? Nothing… hence he can only listen to the confidence and advice from such a patient. 
(chapter 53) is indeed an illusion and deception, for the senior on the paper is portrayed as being accompanied by a nurse. The reality is different, for the patients are facing death alone. 
Their conversation begins with Kim Dan’s simple yet loaded question about how Jaekyung discovered his whereabouts. This moment, better captured in the Japanese, and Spanish translations, underscores Kim Dan’s curiosity and underlying desire for clarity. In the Japanese version, Kim Dan asks, “どうしてここがわかったんですか？” (“How did you find out about this place?”), while the Spanish translation reads, “¿Cómo es que usted acabó aquí?” (“How did you end up here?”). Both translations emphasize Kim Dan’s direct inquiry about how Jaekyung discovered his whereabouts, making Jaekyung’s evasive response even more significant. It is clear that he is trying to protect Potato here. However, Jaekyung’s response 
(chapter 60) immediately sets the tone for their interaction. His refusal to answer and his deliberate avoidance of Kim Dan’s gaze reflect a lie by omission. This evasive behavior not only highlights Jaekyung’s reluctance to reveal his vulnerability but also creates a significant divide between them, making it clear that they are not functioning as a unified team. 
(chapter 60) Initially, he avoids Jaekyung’s gaze, signaling his own fear and insecurity. This avoidance reveals his worry about rejection and his deeper emotional vulnerability. On the one hand, he hopes deep down that the athlete would admit that he came looking for him, yet their last two interactions were arguments and rejections which the doctor didn’t forget. 
(chapter 60) Moreover, the idiom “by any chance” is exposing his low self-esteem. His words are exposing his internal struggles: between hope and despair. Later, his subtle act of turning his head away—a gesture often linked to dishonesty—indicates an effort to conceal his true feelings. 
(chapter 60) He is still in love with Joo Jaekyung, but he is no longer hoping for any attachment and feelings from the fighter. On the other hand, his words are reflecting a different opinion: he is no longer trusting the athlete. This means that when the champion admitted his mistake indirectly, it was already too late. 
(chapter 60) The damage was done. In addition, he is rejecting the job offer because of the champion’s money. 
(chapter 60) He doesn’t want this fake generosity, since the athlete is reminding him of his “debts” towards him: 
(chapter 60) This evasive remark suggests that Jaekyung believes keeping Kim Dan ignorant of his intentions is for the best. By withholding the truth, he feels he is protecting himself and Kim Dan from unnecessary burdens or complexities, reinforcing his perception that their relationship is better managed with clear boundaries. However, this attempt at concealment only deepens the divide between them, as it denies Kim Dan the clarity and emotional connection he seeks. In fact, he is not realizing that he is even afflicting more pain on his fated partner. 
(chapter 6), with Kim Dan ending up on the floor—a physical manifestation of his subservience. Later, in the locker room, both were shown facing each other 
(chapter 60) Kim Dan in bed and Jaekyung on a chair. Yet, this apparent parity hides a reversal of dependency. While Kim Dan is physically and mentally weaker, neglecting his own health to leave the bed, 
(chapter 42) Despite the appearances, such relationships could only deepen his wounds and reinforce his anxieties. Thirdly, let’s not forget that the athlete read the doctor’s birthday card where the latter expressed the hope to work for him for a long time: 
(chapter 55) That’s why he imagined that once he made his offer, the other would agree immediately. However, what he failed to realize is that he read the note too late. Besides, there were these erased words which left the fighter in the ignorance. Finally, he continues to misunderstand Kim Dan’s motivations 
(chapter 60), as he did in episode 6. 
(chapter 60) I would even add, he believes to know Kim Dan so well, hence he mentions his grandmother: 
(chapter 60) However, Jaekyung is terribly wrong because he never talked to his lover. His interest and curiosity were quite superficial. Therefore he fails to grasp that Kim Dan’s longing is not for material wealth or familial obligation, but for genuine companionship and a place to call home. Kim Dan’s rejection of a boss-employee dynamic 
(chapter 60). Moreover he got to hear from the doctor that Kim Dan needed rest: 
(chapter 35) for his own “happiness”. Through Potato, the author is criticizing the attitude of fans who are only projecting their own emotions onto their idols. Their wish for happiness is quite rather superficial. This subtle oversight reflects Potato’s growing detachment, as his focus shifted to capturing moments for posterity rather than addressing the realities in front of him. The absence of the fifth puppy becomes a poignant symbol of unnoticed fragility and foreshadows Kim Dan’s own vulnerability. And how did Kim Dan react to the death of the small dog? 
(chapter 60) When he got caught with his silence, Mingwa never showed us Potato’s justification. Yet, it becomes clear that the young fighter decided to give the following explanation: he respected Kim Dan’s wish to remain undiscovered 
(chapter 58) The reason for this interpretation is the champion’s reaction, when he was asked how he knew about his whereabouts 
(chapter 59) and Joo Jaekyung’s rescue of Kim Dan. 
(chapter 60) Though he is the one left behind, he is not realizing that by not following him, he is failing to protect Kim Dan. 
(chapter 57) Cheolmin already warned his friend in episode 13: 
(chapter 13) But the man refused to listen to his advice, and now Kim Dan is leaving a trail of blood on the floor 
(chapter 23) Potato initially admires the champion, aspiring to be like him 
(chapter 23) and dreaming of recognition as his sparring partner. 
(chapter 23) Joo Jaekyung, much like the prince in Andersen’s story, projects an image that masks the reality of his life. His success, while celebrated, represents years of hard work and immense personal sacrifices. At the gym, Park Namwook undermines these efforts by slapping the athlete 
(chapter 7) and calling him “my boy,” 
(chapter 23) without understanding the profound struggles beneath his image, failing to perceive Joo Jaekyung’s unhappiness, struggles, and loneliness. Like the image is exposing it, Potato views the athlete as a companion as well whose efforts should serve to keep him company. This dynamic mirrors the little mermaid’s conditional love for the prince, as Potato’s idealization is rooted in his own aspirations rather than genuine understanding. Just as the prince remains oblivious to the mermaid’s sacrifices, Potato overlooks the reality of Joo Jaekyung’s burdens, emphasizing a dependency that hinders true recognition and connection. Once his reputation as a champion is tarnished 
(chapter 52), the amateur starts distancing himself from his former idol. This exposes the fragility of Potato’s dream. Therefore it is not surprising that he starts taking a different path: acting, though I still think, it is temporary. However, behind the glamorous facade of the show business, there exists a dark side as well. 
(chapter 59) Heesung’s fate is similar to the champion’s. Despite his popularity, the actor is deeply unhappy. He feels lonely, for people only know the actor and not the man behind the mask. That’s the reason why he is looking for his soulmate. 
(chapter 23). In reality, he wanted to use the athlete as his servant. The closeness 
(chapter 23) he was seeking was self-serving. While the amateur and the actor are searching for the “perfect companion”, the other couple has no expectation from others. They both have no longer any dream or hope. That’s the reason why Kim Dan was putting this vision of Joo Jaekyung behind a veil: 
(chapter 55) My newest theory is that he wanted Joo Jaekyung to teach him fighting, but not for himself, but in order to help the fighters and in particular to protect the champion’s body: 
(chapter 25) 
(chapter 25) To develop a training where injuries are minimized. In season 2, it is clear that Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan have reached the bottom. Both feel empty and exhausted. They were crushed by harsh reality, and they had no one by their side to listen to their pain. Therefore it is not astonishing why the doctor could not confide to the actor and the amateur fighter. They arrived too late. 
(chapter 58) Their presence definitely diverted the doctor’s attention, lessening his pain. 
(chapter 25) he learns the true nature of the relationship between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. This revelation forces him to confront his own repressed feelings, as he unconsciously realizes his attraction to the fighter. 
(Chapter 25) Heesung’s involvement further complicates matters, as Potato confesses his love for Joo Jaekyung 
(chapter 35) while simultaneously vowing to sacrifice his feelings for the sake of the couple’s happiness. This act demonstrates Potato’s pure and selfless definition of love, 
(chapter 52) and the switched spray the 
(chapter 52) which is strongly intertwined with the departure of disloyal members from Team Black marks another step in his journey toward disillusionment. While Potato initially views this as an isolated incident, it exposes the broader corruption within the MMA world, including the betrayal, greed, and lack of loyalty that undermine its integrity. While he views himself as loyal to doc Dan and Team Black, for he remained at the gym, his heart was not. He is becoming like his hyungs, Park Namwook and Heesung. In Andersen’s tale, the mermaid’s journey to the sea witch represents a pivotal moment of transformation. By sacrificing her voice and enduring physical pain, she gains entry into the human world, but at the cost of her identity. Similarly, Potato’s journey is marked by painful discoveries that force him to confront uncomfortable truths. Through Kim Dan, he will begin to see his own flaws before he is able to recognize them in those he once trusted. 
(chapter 23) 
(chapter 25) 
(chapter 35) The latter doesn’t mind breaking social norms by yelling or causing a fight at a restaurant. But let’s return to the actor’s confession at a bar. It’s not surprising that Heesung appears indifferent to the affection of those who cared for him. The last partner was described as too clingy. This means that Heesung places himself as the judge. In addition, it was, as if he was a god destined to live forever. He is forgetting his human condition, just like his partner’s. And that’s exactly how the prince in The Little Mermaid views life.
(special episode 2) Hwang Yoon-Gu didn’t realize that by taking responsibility for the actor, he lost his freedom and as such his voice. Is it a coincidence that Mingwa portrayed the young maknae as someone who would raise his voice due to his emotions in the past? 
(chapter 58) his behavior is totally different than with the actor: 
(chapter 58) Tears, touch, raising his voice with Kim Dan, but not with the comedian. With the actor, he looks more calm, distant and mature. Heesung’s selfishness is evident in his treatment of Potato, whom he manipulates into becoming an extension of his own image. Hence he is no longer wearing shorts and tee-shirts. 
(chapter 59) One might say that he is gradually elevating Potato’s status through his suggestions.
(chapter 23) Why? It was due to his low self-esteem. 
(chapter 23) He was not confident enough, for he was the only one with such a weight-category.
(special episode 2) played a huge influence in Potato’s decision to take the offer as an extra. It was, as if one of his dreams had come true. But is this what he truly wanted? 
(chapter 59) as a signal that he is not truly happy. 
(chapter 58) However, this is about to change. Heesung who likes novelty and change is not realizing that his wish is becoming true. The picture with his last work announces the end of his “friendship” with Potato. How so? 
(chapter 53) Kim Dan learned to prioritize the needs of others over his own. His grandmother’s reliance on him mirrored the traditions and expectations imposed on the mermaid by her underwater world. Just as the little mermaid longed for the human world’s light and freedom, Kim Dan yearned for an escape from his oppressive circumstances.
(chapter 29), drawing a connection between the character’s innocence and loyalty. 
(chapter 35) This shows that Heesung has long internalized this pattern: assistance will be only given, if he is called. That’s why he has no true friend in the end. He shows no interest in others. But by doing so, he is putting the whole responsibility on his counterpart. Through the actor and the manager’s behavior, the former errand boy has long adopted this pattern. Hence he didn’t call Kim Dan in the end. He waited for a signal from his part. This behavior mirrors the little mermaid’s sisters, who only realize her absence when it is almost too late to act. Similarly, Potato’s casual farewell highlights a betrayal of Kim Dan’s friendship, further emphasizing Potato’s struggle with emotional awareness. That’s why I mentioned above that Potato is about to discover his true nature: he is also a sinner. This growth parallels the biblical narrative of Adam and Eve, where the acquisition of knowledge leads to the loss of innocence. Heesung, like Eve, introduces Potato to a new world of experiences, including his sexual orientation. However, this newfound knowledge comes with its own burdens, as Potato must reconcile his identity with the harsh realities of the world around him.
(chapter 5) Heesung could no longer express his needs and desires.
(chapter 59) Potato’s journey is to discover and embrace the principle of “self-reliance” and autonomy. Only when Potato becomes independent in his thoughts and decisions, can he truly help the main couple.
(chapter 52), accusing them of lacking loyalty and dismissing their claim that they had nothing to learn from him. Yet, in episode 52, Potato does not reproach Park Namwook or Yosep for their passivity and naivety, 
(chapter 52) instead solely blaming Joo Jaekyung for not trusting Kim Dan and causing his departure. This selective criticism reveals that Potato still views the older men as inherently good and fails to recognize his own shortcomings. In this way, he mirrors Park Namwook’s superficial loyalty, further emphasizing his dependence on external validation.
(chapter 43) This absence highlights how Potato has missed key moments of reflection and acknowledgment, which are essential for his growth. It suggests that Potato is destined to detect the flaws in his hyungs—Park Namwook, Yosep and Heesung’s superficiality, passivity, hypocrisy and selfishness—before he can achieve true independence and contribute meaningfully to the lives of Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan.
(chapter 23) —taking over his tasks and noticing his unhappiness 
(chapter 25) —demonstrates his capacity for genuine care. This contrasts sharply with Heesung’s selfishness and serves as a reminder of the value of mutual support in relationships. Potato’s potential return to the place where he met Kim Dan could symbolize a rediscovery of authentic connections, marking the beginning of his path toward independence and self-realization. 
(chapter 58) And like mentioned above, this could become a serious problem for Yoon-Gu. He could be perceived as someone selling himself for a gig. And Heesung is not even realizing the consequences of his intervention and meddling. That’s why it is important for Yoon-Gu to become independent. This lesson resonates with Potato’s journey in Jinx. By recognizing Heesung’s selfishness and breaking free from his influence, Potato has the potential to rediscover his own dreams and individuality. Like Erich Fromm mentioned it, true love is respect, care, knowledge and responsibility. However, Heesung has no idea about the importance of these notions, as everything is evolving around his own needs and dreams. 
(chapter 58) That’s how it dawned on me that little by little Yoon-Gu had been losing his senses: 
(chapter 31), his smell, then his ears 
(chapter 58) He forgot the danger coming from Heesung’s words, he could not hear the suffering from the champion due to his bias, and finally he couldn’t see Kim Dan’s distress due to his own feelings and prejudices. We could say that because of the influence from others, he was no longer able to see reality. However, like mentioned before, I sense the return of Potato’s senses in the following panel: 
(chapter 59), coinciding with Potato’s departure, underscores this theme of overlooked emotions and unreciprocated care. As Joo Jaekyung reflects on Kim Dan’s comparison of Potato to a puppy, it may catalyze a pivotal shift, prompting him 
(chapter 59) —an innocent request by the nurses at the hospice 
(chapter 59) —which becomes the pivotal clue leading Joo Jaekyung to Kim Dan. Through a careful analysis of the timeline and the use of contrasting events, it becomes clear that Mingwa’s narrative mirrors a kaleidoscope, reflecting positive and negative elements rooted in Taoist principles. While the doctor’s unconscious 
(chapter 59) led him to the shore, driven by despair and suicidal intent, the MMA fighter’s journey stands as its opposite: 
(chapter 59 ) a conscious choice to follow his heart, hence he was full of anger and frustration. Joo Jaekyung was no longer repressing his feelings, even if he had yet to fully recognize his affection. 
(chapter 59), it simultaneously signifies the first crucial clue in Joo Jaekyung’s search. This marked the turning point where his ongoing efforts were given direction, transforming his pursuit into a decisive journey toward discovery.
(chapter 59) —each of whom had interacted with Kim Dan 
(chapter 57) during his time at Light of Hope. While these individuals appear as potential candidates for revealing Kim Dan’s location, the true helper remains shrouded in mystery. This ambiguity emphasizes the layered narrative of Jinx, where each small action—no matter how mundane—contributes to the larger theme of fate’s intricate web, offering insight into the power of both intentional and unintentional intervention. If Potato had not suggested the picture 
(chapter 58), ignorance and superficiality 
(chapter 59) Importantly, Joo Jaekyung did not arrive during this period, further affirming their resolve. The photograph taken just before their departure was the key turning point. However, the timeline—marked by the sunsets 
(chapter 59) 
(chapter 59) —suggests that Joo Jaekyung arrived only two days after Heesung and Potato left. This indicates that neither Potato nor Heesung leaked the information to Joo Jaekyung, as the champion would have sought Kim Dan immediately if informed by them. Instead, this photograph—seemingly public rather than private—became the clue he needed. Moreover, since the two friends knew where Kim Dan lived, I am assuming that he would have gone right to the doctor‘s rented room. But he did not. He went to the beach. Since the nurses didn‘t notice that Kim Dan was a friend of Potato and Heesung and mistook him for a fan, I am assuming that only the two friends know his address. 
(chapter 8) 
(chapter 37) and Kwak Junbeom was a witness of the encounter between Kim Dan and director Choi Gilseok. 
(Chapter 48) Nonetheless, there exist significant points against this theory. Despite their fondness for the actor 
(chapter 30) and their interactions with Heesung and Potato 
(chapter 35), they are unaware of the actor’s relationship with Potato. The author left many clues for this interpretation. They didn’t notice the maknae’s absence at the champion’s birthday 
(chapter 43), but more importantly the presence of Yoon-Gu‘s embarrassment in front of his hyung indicates secrecy. . 
(chapter 58), but probably saw this as another “negative reaction” (bad temper) of a spoiled child. This makes it unlikely that members of Team Black could have provided the critical information. 
(chapter 50) 
(chapter 49), highlighting the failures of relying solely on fate. The champion’s eventual discovery of Kim Dan underscores the necessity of teamwork and active intervention. Notably, this also reflects the flaws in Team Black, whose inaction and superficiality limited their understanding of both Joo Jaekyung’s struggles and Kim Dan’s situation. While Heesung’s stardom and blog 
(chapter 30) could have amplified the picture’s reach, it’s unlikely Joo Jaekyung relied on such sources directly. I can not imagine him spying on the actor’s blog. Instead, the role of the helpers — the nurse and her acquaintance— emerge as crucial to piecing together the connection. The inadvertent role of the nurses Mind and Heart, urging Heesung to take the picture, becomes an integral part of the story’s progression. 
(chapter 13) The latter knew the PT’s face, 
(chapter 13) but didn’t know his identity. He mistook him for someone who was selling his body for money. 
(chapter 13) In addition, Kim Dan never got to know the intervention of this hyung: he was the invisible helping hand in season 1. And now, if you reread the scene in episode 13, you will notice that this conversation between Joo Jaekyung and his friend contains all the ingredients in episode 59: the use of the phone, fainting, malnutrition, secrecy, neglect, secret suffering, pictures and public knowledge 
(chapter 13), the death of a man and finally urgency. Moreover, remember what his friend told him before: the importance of rest and 
(chapter 43) And during that evening, the champion called his penthouse with the doc “Home” for the first time. Finally, in season 2, Joo Jaekyung started visiting each hospital or Sports Rehabilitation Center in Seoul in order to find Kim Dan. 
(chapter 56) And there’s no doubt that Joo Jaekyung got recognized by people forcing him to use a mask to hide his identity. So this frenetic search must have reached the mysterious doctor’s ears, but I doubt that he made the connection between the star’s lover and the physical therapist right away. Since he‘s a guest of XY club, 
(Chapter 13), it is also possible that he could have heard about the last incident in the restroom with doc Dan’s replacement. Since Cheolmin found Dan cute, it is very likely that he was also drawn to the surrogate „Dan“. But I don‘t think, this was enough to intervene, as Joo Jaekyung didn‘t ask for his help.
and to Neptune 
and strangely, the doctor moved to a place next to the coast. So maybe Cheolmin comes from that little town and the green-haired nurse is his relative. I had already outlined their similarities. Finally, look at the numbers, we have 4 in both episodes, 13 and 59 (13: 1+3 = 4 / 59: 5-9= -4) The -4 would coincide with Kim Dan’s vanishing, but also with the intervention of Cheolmin. And if my theory is correct, this means that the champion will come to regret his past decision 
(chapter 54) and penthouse 
(chapter 54) in Seoul—a city symbolizing anonymity, invisibility, and corruption—to the hospice “Light of Hope” 
(chapter 56) in a small town on the West Coast 
(chapter 56), where people know each other. This essay builds upon my previous interpretations of the series, which led me to develop these predictions for the upcoming season. By comparing the visual depictions of the gym and penthouse in Seoul with the hospice and small town on the West Coast, the divergence in weather becomes a powerful symbol of the changes Joo Jaekyung will undergo. The rainy, overcast settings of the gym and penthouse reflect the fighter’s inner turmoil and sadness, highlighting the oppressive atmosphere of a city rife with anonymity and corruption. In contrast, the sunny and open environment of the hospice and town by the ocean represents a space of hope and renewal, where human connections thrive. This comparison underscores the significant role the hospice and small town will play in fostering Joo Jaekyung’s self-discovery and healing. The gym and penthouse in Seoul symbolize anonymity, invisibility, and corruption. This anonymity stems from the city’s indifference to individual suffering, as seen when Kim Dan was dragged 
(chapter 16) 
(chapter 16) through the streets by loan sharks in broad daylight without anyone intervening. Invisibility is further exemplified by the perverted hospital director, 
(chapter 1) who harassed Kim Dan without facing any consequences, though he was caught, and by Kim Miseon’s unethical actions, such as leaking patient information 
(chapter 48) and using Shin Okja as a guinea pig for trial treatments 
(chapter 21) —none of which led to accountability. In contrast, the hospice represents a counterpoint: 
(chapter 56) a space where respect and dignity take precedence over ambition, fostering genuine human connection and care. This contrast between the city and the hospice highlights the champion’s need to redefine his understanding of life, identity, and success. The contrast between the hospice and MFC becomes pivotal, as these environments symbolize opposing values: while the hospice fosters compassion
(chapter 52) The best example is the vanishing of the protagonist’s former rival, Baek Junmin, 
(chapter 36) 
(chapter 57). This environment challenges him to confront the indifference of figures like Yosep and Park Namwook, whose neglect, blind trust, passivity, naivety, neglect and selfishness have shaped his struggles. Notice that the nurses are often seen together and exchanging thoughts about doc Dan symbolizing unity and harmony 
(special episode 1) In other words, the presence of Kim Dan’s friends (Joo JAekyung, Potato and Heesung) could make her realize her true nature, which would impact her mental health. She led a life full of missed chances and regrets. 
(chapter 27) In Korean culture, the saying “when the heart isn’t in it” reflects a profound truth: actions devoid of sincerity lack real value. Season 2’s new settings allow the champion to reflect on his mechanical, dispassionate life and begin to act with intention and feeling.
(chapter 57) and her puppies. Kim Dan is tasked with taking care of the dog and her newborns, and Joo Jaekyung should be asked to do the same. This responsibility not only serves as an allegory for taming the wolf within him but also paves the way for the champion’s deeper connection with Kim Dan. By being close to the ocean 
(chapter 56), a place where Joo Jaekyung finds relaxation through swimming, the setting introduces an opportunity for him to teach Kim Dan how to swim, addressing the latter’s fear of water 
(chapter 27). Swimming could become a shared activity that rebuilds their relationship on a foundation of trust, mutual learning, and growth. Engaging in this physical activity would not only strengthen their bond but also boost Kim Dan’s confidence and help him rediscover his own resilience.
(chapter 54), his connection with Kim Dan is no longer defined by a boss-employee relationship. Their interactions, now free of financial obligations, offer the fighter a clearer view of Kim Dan’s selfless and angelic nature. The physical therapist’s unwavering care, even at the expense of his own well-being, highlights his ungreedy and altruistic character. This realization will deepen Joo Jaekyung’s respect and affection for Kim Dan, further cementing the transformative journey they both embark on.
(chapter 56) “Nurse Mind” and “Nurse Heart,” provide another layer of mentorship. They could act as the champion’s eyes and ears, teaching him to observe and understand Kim Dan’s mental state. Though the nurse 1 started reproaching Kim Dan to neglect himself
(chapter 13) She already noticed his unusual fatigue, so in my opinion, this third woman could be the one detecting that the main lead is not eating properly. If this assumption is correct, then she stands for food and body, like in the Korean saying: “If your heart is not in it, you can’t see if you look. You can’t even hear if you listen, and you can’t taste even if you eat.” Their guidance should help Joo Jaekyung cultivate a nurturing side, showing him that strength is not solely physical but also emotional and relational. In this way, the nurses become pivotal in his journey from a lone wolf to a leader who values and protects his pack.
(chapter 49), though their positions are absolutely opposite. The patient’s reaction in Chapter 57 echoes this dynamic, as he accuses Joo Jaekyung of being ill-tempered (this means that he remembers the suspension), a perspective shaped by the media’s manipulations. His criticism reflects the behavior of a sheep, falling prey to misinformation and failing to see the larger truths. On the other hand, it indicates that this man also knows a part of the truth: the suspension which is no longer mentioned, but also escaped Kim Dan’s notice, as he was dealing with his departure. In contrast, Potato’s response in Chapter 49, where he courageously questioned Director Choi despite the latter being an elder, showcases independence and critical thinking. This juxtaposition highlights the patient’s potential to awaken Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan, and Potato to the damaging impact of media narratives. Over time, the patient himself must confront the wrongfulness and cold-heartedness of his accusations, fostering growth and understanding on all sides. These characters reflect the flaws of Yosep and Namwook, enabling Joo Jaekyung to see the neglect and indifference he has endured and inspiring him to redefine his role in the gym and in Kim Dan’s life. 
The illustration’s inclusion of the hamster—symbolizing Kim Dan’s fun, fragile, and nurturing nature—along with the chow chow and the gumiho, emphasizes the roles of protectors and mediators. The chow chow’s loyalty and the gumiho’s cunning serve as essential forces guarding the hamster and navigating the complexities of this “pure community,” where lies and selfishness can still exist. These characters highlight the intricate dynamics within the hospice, where Joo Jaekyung must balance strength with empathy.
(chapter 35), where people’s actions and words can go unnoticed, the hospice fosters an environment of close-knit relationships and mutual observation. 
(chapter 56) In this communal setting, actions carry weight, and behaviors are scrutinized. Thus the door to the meeting room is made of translucent glass. 
(chapter 56) While in the previous essay, I pointed out that this door reflected Kim Dan’s emotional entanglement—he is physically present but emotionally excluded from his grandmother’s world, highlighting the imbalance in their relationship -, in verity this transparent door offers an opportunity for the main lead. How so? The glass door stands not only for transparency, but also for “emotional distance”. The glass allows visibility but creates a barrier, symbolizing a balance between openness and detachment. This is essential in a hospice environment, where the focus is on providing care and support without becoming overly attached to the inevitable outcome: death. For the staff, maintaining a degree of detachment is necessary for their well-being, as becoming too attached could make the emotional toll of their work unbearable. Therefore I am suspecting that the two nurses 
(chapter 56) Her hypocrisy, particularly in her treatment of Kim Dan, remains hidden behind the guise of socially acceptable behavior. Within the hospice, residents maintain a positive opinion of her, which enables her to mask her neglect and selfishness effectively. But since the two nurses are sharing their thoughts and working as a team, it signifies that Shin Okja’s wrongdoings could be detected this time. Or better said, they will realize the true suffering from the protagonist. Nurse Heart and nurse Mind will do their best to protect their new mascot and give him what he truly needs: 
(chapter 26) The reality is that he still has no idea why the champion was acting that way. He tried to explain his odd behavior by jumping to conclusions (prejudices: a spoiled child) and by listening to others. He never used his heart and mind, rather his ears and eyes. And this brings me to my next part.
(chapter 5) And the other laughed. Then the coach seems to have no cellphone. Maybe he believes to have no need for it, for he goes to the gym every day. This signifies that he expects to be informed by his hyung Namwook. However, like mentioned in the previous essay, I believe that the manager has been sweeping under the rug the terrible condition of his “boy” from the coach and the team members. To sum up, Team Black embodies the opposite of the hospice’s values. There is no transparency, because the conversation took place not outside, but behind closed door. The door might be translucent, the reality is that they sent away all the members. 
(chapter 36) The gym, while ostensibly a team environment, is ruled by indifference, anonymity, and a lack of genuine camaraderie. The heart and the mind are not working together. Why? It is because the coach is trusting the manager, as he views him as the heart of the gym. What he fails to see, is that Park Namwook is neither the heart nor the mind, for he is more reflecting his surroundings: money. Secondly, the manager is easily influenced and is using conformity and social norms to avoid responsibility. He fears making decisions and lets others become proactive. Joo Jaekyung, the leader, relies exclusively on Park Namwook, the manager, who undermines team spirit by fostering distrust and misinformation. 
(chapter 46) The member’s loyalty got questioned, but the irony is that they had the real insight. 
(chapter 47) Thus rumors about Baek Junmin being an illegal fighter never reached Jaekyung’s ears. That’s why the author made fun of the main lead here: 
(chapter 22) episode 22, when he falsely claims ownership of the gym and again in episode 56 when he reminds the champion of his absence from the gym, behaving as though he were the boss. 
(chapter 56) Hence he is seen talking over the phone and not face to face, unlike the nurse. He knows that his boy is struggling, but he acts, as if he didn’t know. This contrast validates my previous interpretation of the manager. His question “Is everything okay with you?” exposes his lack of genuine concern. He uses work not to praise his “boy”, but to blame him for his “negligence”. He downplays the champion’s struggles while still recovering from surgery. This lack of care creates an atmosphere of apathy, anonymity, and selfish expectation, sharply contrasting with the hospice’s values of dignity and communal care. But how do we explain this huge divergence? First, the main principles of the hospice are dignity and care, and not primarily money. Therefore the institution offers free health check once a month: 
(chapter 1) The fighter with the head injury received treatment from the members (self-medication) and Kim Changming had a shoulder injury which got neglected. 
(chapter 7) These incidents reflect the gym’s underlying indifference and mismanagement. This disparity explains why Jaekyung’s mental health suffered under Namwook’s leadership, as the gym lacked the supportive and transparent environment required to nurture emotional resilience. Jaekyung’s stay at the hospice is likely to open his eyes to this overlooked aspect, prompting him to reconsider his leadership style and the values governing Team Black. But it is the same for Kim Dan, especially if he sees how weak and neglected the fighter looks: 
(chapter 56) he has already become a shadow of himself. 
(chapter 16) Despite its substantial value, the grandmother never sold the cabinet to pay off the debts, prioritizing its preservation over the survival of her home and family. On the one hand, this reveals her immaturity and selfishness, as she put up with her grandson’s suffering. On the other hand, her decision created the impression to Kim Dan that this belonging had just a sentimental value and nothing more. So when the champion saw that huge Wedding cabinet, he judged it as „junk“ and that’s how the doctor got this perception validated. 
(Chapter 19) Hence it is not surprising that at the end, he chose to abandon this huge cupboard. 
(chapter 42) This explicates why the athlete didn’t pay attention to his soulmate’s clothes. And now, observe that the doctor is only wearing his PT uniform. 
(chapter 56) She is wearing it daily and is proud of it. Deep down, she knows the true value of the scarf: it was expensive 
(Chapter 41) as she employs the expression „spoil to death“. By wearing the scarf with flowers, she appears wealthy, but also vain! Since I detected that Kim Dan likes pink flowers, my interpretation is that this gift mirrors the doctor’s taste indicating that he was slowly regaining his identity and confidence.. 
(chapter 45) This aspect gets even validated with the doctor’s keychain. The latter not only caused an argument between the two room mates
(chapter 55) Another interesting aspect lies in the doctor’s shaking hands which the champion noticed, when he offered the present: 
(chapter 55) This scene reminded me of their first encounter: 
(Chapter 56) So the man must have recognized the doctor‘s fear, which explains why the champion could voice his anger later. But back then, he never wondered why the doctor‘s hands were shaking like leaves. It is because the doctor feared rejection. The present had the following meaning for the physical therapist: recognition and acceptance. The gift was the symbol for „conditional affection“ which he had long internalized due to his grandmother. But this doesn‘t end here. The shaking hands appeared in a different scene: 
(chapter 49) The common denominator between these three scenes is the mistake. Kim Dan feared to have made a mistake with the present, because he was afraid of the champion‘s reaction: will he accept him or not? But let‘s return our attention to the gifts from the doctor. 
(chapter 31)
(chapter 55) implies that as soon as the main couple meet each other, they will have to discuss this matter. To sum up, a gift encourages the couple to communicate, yet contrary to season 1, both should be more honest to each other at the Light Of Hope. Every word and action will appear in a different light. Another aspect is that none of them takes things for granted, which stands in opposition to hyung Namwook and the grandmother. This explicates why the latter have no problem to spend money.
(chapter 27) 
(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 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. 
(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 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 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)
(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. 
(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.
(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!
(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. 
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 