Jinx: Love 💘 is in the Air 🌬️🎶(part 1)

When Air Becomes Emotion

There are chapters in Jinx that feel like pauses in the storm, moments when the story seems to inhale before beating again. Chapter 83 is one of them. At first glance, it resembles a “date”: the two men wear complementary headbands — white and black, (chapter 83) mirroring the contrast of their clothes and their personalities — and the champion even leans in to lick a smear of ice cream from the therapist’s finger, an image so intimate that any passerby would mistake them for lovers. And yet, not quite. The physical therapist approaches the outing as part of his job, a therapeutic break meant to soothe his patient’s nerves (chapter 83), while the athlete approaches the day with a far more personal hope. He stages the rides strategically, intending to appear strong and reliable so that his companion might grow frightened and instinctively reach for him (chapter 83) — just as he once did in the swimming pool. (chapter 80) Beneath the surface, what looks like a date is a carefully orchestrated attempt to recreate closeness without naming it. To conclude, whereas the episode flirts with the aesthetics of a date, the intentions behind it remain mismatched, unspoken, and unresolved. It is not an official date, yet it does not behave like a simple work-related excursion either, and we as readers are left suspended in that tantalizing in-between space — as if the very moment were hanging weightless above the ground, waiting for someone to name what it truly is.

As we follow them through the amusement park, we sense something shifting. The air itself seems to vibrate (chapter 83), charged with a warmth that seasoned Jinxphiles will recognize immediately: a tension between joy and tension, duty and desire, wind and water. And then we see him — the usually anxious physical therapist — smiling with his eyes closed, arms raised, as if offering himself to the sky and joining his “companions”, the clouds. In this panel, his hands — so often clenched, overworked, or trembling from exhaustion, fear or anger — are finally resting, suspended in a gesture of pure lightness and ease.

This moment is more than simple amusement; it is a brief liberation from the weight he has carried for years. For the first time, the man who usually survives on caution allows himself to rise, to laugh, to surrender to the wind. He appears almost weightless — as if something inside him has quietly unclenched. And as I watched this unexpected lightness unfold, something else surfaced just as naturally: a melody. Soft at first, almost accidental. It felt as though the chapter itself were humming in the background — John Paul Young’s Love Is in the Air.

Its melody, repetitive and gently rising, mirrors the slow ascent of the Ferris wheel: a circular motion that builds toward a quiet crescendo. And what might strike you — almost instinctively — is how naturally the lyrics seem to align with the chapter’s emotional beats, as if each verse echoed a panel.

— suddenly these lines become more than a melody. They become a key to understanding what neither the fighter nor the therapist dares to say aloud. (chapter 83) The song becomes more than a soundtrack; it becomes an interpretive key, guiding us through the protagonists’ unspoken emotions and shadowed hesitations.

At the same time, chapter 83 mirrors earlier moments of their story—especially the opening episode and the charged night-and-morning sequence of chapters 44 (chapter 44) and 45, where desire blurred into illusion and (chapter 45) reality collided with unspoken longing. The tension between dream (chapter 83) and waking life, quietly present in the lyrics themselves, resurfaces at the park amusement as well — though its meaning will become clearer as we look deeper. In season 1, the boundaries between the celebrity fighter and his therapist were blurred in ways neither of them understood: professional on the surface, intimate in practice, yet undefined in essence. Physical closeness existed, but emotional clarity did not. Now, in the bright openness of this amusement-park afternoon and evening, we are invited to look again. What exactly is their relationship here? A supervised rest day? A moment of companionship? The first fragile step toward something tenderer that neither man is ready to articulate?

And if their bond no longer fits the categories imposed by their roles, then we are left with the question that rises with them into the purple sky: What is love—when the line between duty and desire dissolves into the air itself?

Dan — “Love is in the air, everywhere I look around”

The first verse of the song insists on perception — on looking, hearing, sensing the presence of love in the world before one dares to name it. And this is precisely what happens to the physical therapist in chapter 83. When he sees a child running toward a mascot for a hug (chapter 83) or a family laughing together (chapter 83), something in him shifts so quietly that one might miss it at first glance: he smiles. (chapter 83) Not out of politeness, not to reassure someone else, not through exhaustion or habit. He smiles because he witnesses joy — and for once, it does not make him feel smaller. It does not activate the reflexes of deprivation or fear that shaped his life from childhood to early adulthood. On the other hand, the smile he gives in that moment is not radiant, not wide, not unguarded. It is a grin, a restrained upward curve that reveals both warmth and hesitation. His joy is present — unmistakably so — but it is still contained, as if his body has not yet learned how to express happiness without caution. This small, hesitant grin shows us a man who is beginning to open, yet still holds himself back, afraid of wanting too much.

And what makes this expression so striking is what it lacks. There is no envy in his eyes. No longing to trade places with the laughing family. No bitterness. No “why not me?” His gaze does not grab at the happiness he sees; it simply receives it. This absence is meaningful. For someone who grew up experiencing loss, scarcity, and emotional withholding, joy witnessed in others often triggers one of two reactions:

  • greed (“I want that, too.”)
  • hurt (“Why can’t I have that?”)

But Dan feels neither. He simply watches and grins — shyly, lightly, almost apologetically — as if happiness is something he is allowed to observe but not yet to claim. The expression reflects the quiet discipline of someone who has spent years dampening his own desires so he wouldn’t be disappointed. His joy is limited, yes, but also genuine. It is the joy of someone who is relearning safety through the world around him, step by delicate step.

And this is precisely why the grin matters. It shows that his emotional defenses are beginning to loosen, but not collapse. He allows the warmth of the scenery to touch him, without reaching out for more. He permits himself to feel — but in moderation, in the smallest possible dose that won’t frighten him. It is, therefore, the perfect visual embodiment of the song’s opening line:

because for the first time, he is looking around with the capacity to notice, even if he still doesn’t dare to hope.

Back in episode 1, the world was something he endured: every sound (chapter 1) reminded him of responsibility , every sight (chapter 1) pulled him back to duty or scarcity. Happiness belonged to others; he lived on the margins, always working, always surviving. But here, in the brightness of the amusement park (chapter 83), his gaze is finally unshackled. He looks outward and takes in the warmth of strangers’ affection without translating it into loss or longing. (chapter 83) Like described above, he is neither envious nor resentful. Instead, he experiences a fragile form of joy — not through himself, but through others. It is indirect happiness, a borrowed ray of light, but it is still happiness.

This scene reveals a subtle but profound transformation: the world no longer feels hostile. For a child who grew up believing that everything — security, love, parents — could vanish without warning or bring pain, the outside world was always tinged with danger. Now, for the first time, it becomes a landscape where he feels safe (chapter 83), though an accident could actually occur there. This contrasts so much to his thoughts in episode 1. (chapter 1) The amusement park becomes a place in which love exists openly, visibly, harmlessly. The lyrics capture this awakening beautifully: “And I don’t know if I’m being foolish… but it’s something that I must believe in.” (chapter 83) This is exactly what his smile expresses. He has no proof that love could include him. No certainty that he deserves it. No assurance that daring to hope won’t lead to disappointment. And yet, he believes — not because someone reassures him, but because his own senses finally give him permission.

When he smiles at the child or the family, he is not imagining himself in their place, nor projecting himself into some idealized domestic future. He simply lets the warm air settle in his chest. Happiness exists. It exists near him. It exists without punishing him. And if it exists, then perhaps — perhaps — he is not excluded from it forever. This is the first real beat of hope, the quiet reawakening of a heart that has spent too long underwater. The therapist who once sank in the pool out of fear now rises through the air of the amusement park simply by witnessing life unfold around him. His joy does not come from the ride; it initially comes from seeing love in the air, exactly as the song describes.

Yet this joy remains delicate, tentative — the kind that sits quietly at the edge of his lips. His smile is not wide or unguarded; it is a small, restrained grin, (chapter 83) a gesture that reveals how carefully he still manages his own emotions. For a man who learned early in life to minimize his desires to avoid disappointment, this gentle openness is already a form of courage. And then something unexpected happens.

Dan — “Love is in the air, In the risin’ of the sun


The moment he realizes that the fighter (chapter 83) — the man who seems invincible and superior in every domain — has never been to an amusement park, a spark ignites inside him. (chapter 83) His heart, which moments earlier beat quietly in observation, begins to race with excitement. For the first time, he is equal to the athlete. At the same time, for the first time, he is the one with experience or power. 😲 How so? For the first time, age becomes real (chapter 83): the physical therapist is twenty-nine, the athlete twenty-six.

Dan’s seniority — long irrelevant, long suppressed — begins to surface, not through conscious thought, but through instinct. He does not step forward because he is older; he steps forward because, for once, he knows something the fighter does not: his own desires. His body moves before his mind names the change. His voice lifts before he understands. (chapter 83) He suddenly steps into a role he has never been allowed to inhabit before: that of the knowledgeable one, the guide, the hyung.

And this moment exposes a quiet truth about his past that the story had always hinted at: he has never been allowed to inhabit his age. (chapter 78) Dan’s lifetime of passivity did not come from lack of intelligence or lack of will; it came from conditioning. He was raised by a guardian who loved him, yes, but who also unintentionally infantilized him. He was not allowed to question her words and decisions. His grandmother, who was not just older but twice his senior in authority, experience, and certainty, occupied every position of knowledge in his life. She decided what was dangerous, what was sensible, what was allowed, and what was forbidden. Her worldview dominated so completely that Dan’s own judgment never had room to form. His grandmother’s authority was absolute — not malicious, but unquestioned — and Dan learned very early that his role in the household was not to decide but to obey.

The clearest illustration appears in Chapter 7, when she panics about the money he could spend for her treatment and immediately demands: (chapter 7) As if a twenty-nine-year-old man — a working professional — were incapable of making a responsible financial decision. Dan’s “Of course not!” is instinctive, defensive, almost childlike, exposing the emotional hierarchy between them. In her eyes, he is not an adult with agency, but a boy who must be corrected, cautioned, overridden.

And yet — paradoxically — he was forced to become an adult far too early which the grandmother acknowledges. (chapter 65) However, observe that here, she feigns ignorance, she doesn’t know the origins of this metamorphosis. On the other hand, it is clear that she is well aware of the cause. He worked to support them both. He paid the hospital bills. He negotiated the debts. He shouldered the responsibility of survival.

And the greatest irony? The debt is in his name. (chapter 17) Legally, financially, the burden is his. But emotionally, symbolically, he was never allowed to own that responsibility; it was neither recognized nor validated. Instead, his grandmother continued to treat him as a child incapable of navigating the world on his own — even though he was the one saving them both.

This contradiction shaped him: He learned duty without authority, responsibility without recognition, adulthood without autonomy. He was taught to carry the weight of the world but never the permission to decide how to carry it. And now, we finally comprehend why the physical therapist remained so passive throughout Season 2. By giving him choices (chapter 77) and asking for his opinion (chapter 83), Joo Jaekyung is liberating his fated partner.

And this is precisely why the moment in Chapter 83 hits so deeply. (chapter 83) For the first time, he is not the silent follower but the one who leads. For the first time, his taste and desire matter.
For the first time, he is allowed to choose — where to walk, what to try, how to spend the day.

And in that instant, something long-suppressed rises to the surface: the part of him that was never permitted to grow up. His racing heart is not just excitement; it is the awakening of a self that had been dormant for years — the self who finally, quietly, steps into the light. As if echoing John Paul Young’s quiet promise,
“Love is in the air, in the risin’ of the sun,”
something inside him rises too — a self long buried under duty and financial strain. Chapter 83 unfolds beneath the sun, but its emotional lighting belongs to him: not chronological morning, but the symbolic morning of a man finally waking up. We see this most clearly in the moment he blushes and murmurs: (chapter 83). His face, half in shadow and half in light, appears as though it is gradually emerging from darkness. It feels like dawn breaking across his features — the soft illumination of newfound boldness, desire, and possibility. Even if the scene takes place in the afternoon, his face carries the light of morning, the brightness of a heart beginning to beat for itself. (chapter 83) And this is why his heart speeds up. Why he blushes. Why he suddenly moves with purpose. Why he becomes the guide: “I’ll be your guide today!”

This is not merely excitement. It is the first time his joy has weight and his seniority has meaning. It is the first time he can lead without fear. It is the first time he can offer joy rather than labor. In this fleeting, luminous moment, the therapist steps into the adulthood he earned long ago — not out of duty, but out of freedom. And paradoxically, by stepping into adulthood, he is finally allowed to reclaim something he was robbed of: childhood. Thus he receives a huge Teddy Bear from the athlete. (chapter 83) The toy from his childhood had vanished, probably thrown away because it had lost its role and doc Dan had no longer the time to play. At the same time, we should question ourselves who had offered it to doc Dan. (chapter 47)

The man who had to shoulder debts, bills, and survival before he even finished school now gets to experience what ordinary children take for granted — wearing a headband, tasting ice cream, pointing excitedly toward the next ride.
His joy is not childish; it is restorative. It is the healing of a stage of life he never truly lived. And with every shift of light and fresh air, a new part of Dan awakens — his agency, his boldness, his playfulness, even his shy but stubborn desires. (chapter 83) And this awakening has another consequence: for the first time, money disappears as a source of fear.

Dan, who used to feel uncomfortable in front of presents or at the slightest expense, suddenly moves with ease. (chapter 83) He accepts the fighter’s generosity without guilt (chapter 83), yet offers his own in return — buying the drinks, fetching the ice cream, participating in the flow of giving rather than shrinking from it. (chapter 83) No one questions cost; no one frames affection as financial burden. This reciprocity is gentle, natural, unspoken. It stands in stark contrast to Heesung (chapter 32), who immediately reduced generosity to calculation. He implied that doc Dan couldn’t afford it. His smile was a lure; his kindness, a transaction.

But with Jaekyung, Dan is not a debtor or a burden. Money stops being a battlefield. He is simply someone who can say yes and accept a huge Teddy Bear. (chapter 83) In fact, he loves the “gift”. He is someone who can offer something back (the drink, but also concerns (chapter 83) Someone who can choose.

Here, in the sunlit corners of the amusement park, the therapist is no longer the boy (chapter 65) who was forced into adulthood nor the adult who was treated like a child. He is finally both: (chapter 83) That’s the reason why Mingwa placed a boy with his father between the couple in this image. At the same time, she also insinuated that Joo Jaekyung was acting not only as a father, but also as a “boy”. That’s why love is in the air… they come to accept their true self. The two protagonists are both adults and kids!
Now, doc Dan is free enough to play and enjoy the rides (chapter 83), and respected enough to lead. And in that rare space, something long dormant begins to bloom, the return of the little boy’s innocence and smile! (chapter 83) “Love is in the air, In the whisper of the trees” Keep in mind that according to my interpretation, the tree embodies the physical therapist.

Just two people sharing the cost of a shared day — naturally, effortlessly, without negotiation. It is a small detail, but it signals a tectonic emotional shift: he no longer sees himself as someone who must earn affection through restraint, sacrifice, or poverty. He no longer sees himself as a burden!

Joo Jaekyung — “Love is in the air, in the thunder of the sea”

If Dan awakens in air, Jaekyung is pulled, almost violently, toward water. (chapter 83) The second half of the verse — “in the thunder of the sea” — finds its embodiment not in waves or ocean spray, but in a wooden flying boat swinging high above an amusement park. (chapter 83) It is here, of all places, that the façade of the undefeated champion bends, flickers, and reveals the frightened boy hiding beneath the man. (chapter 83)

At first, the athlete walks through the park with a confidence bordering on theatrical. He speaks like someone who knows the rules of amusement rides (chapter 83), although the knowledge is borrowed, second-hand, quoted from “the guys at the gym.” He buys cute headbands (chapter 83), pays for almost everything (chapter 83), selects a giant teddy bear as a prize. He tries to perform adulthood, to appear experienced, reliable, worldly — the one who leads. That’s why his reaction after the ride on the boat resembles a lot to the father: scared of rides (chapter 83) And yet this performance is delicate. One touch is all it takes to fracture it. (chapter 83) Because the truth is that Jaekyung, too, is both an adult and a child. Thus the author used many “chibi” in this chapter: (chapter 83) He is the man who finances the day, but also the boy who has never stepped inside an amusement park. (chapter 83) He is the warrior who never loses, but also the boy who becomes jealous of a rollercoaster because it made Dan smile. (chapter 83) He is the emperor of the ring, but also the boy whose innocence was stolen far too early through neglect, violence, and trauma.

This duality surfaces even during the ride moves. (chapter 83) When he sees Dan laughing with the wind in his hair, he is first moved. (chapter 83) For the first time, he truly notices the doctor’s joy and happiness. However, later his thoughts tighten into a childish pout: (chapter 83) The jealousy is not malicious — it is heartbreakingly sincere. It belongs to someone who has never been the source of gentle affection. Someone who has always been valued for power, not warmth. Someone whose earliest memories taught him that attention comes only when he performs. What he fails to notice that he is still behind the doctor’s happiness. How so? It is because he was the one who had suggested this trip!!

But let’s return our attention to the boat, the ride who combines water and air. The great athlete — the dragon of the cage, the man who terrifies opponents simply by standing in front of them — folds inward like a frightened child. (chapter 83) As the ride swings, his fingers clamp around the safety bar, his head drops, his breathing stutters, and his posture collapses into defensive instinct. The motion is too familiar. Too close to something his body remembers even when his mind tries to forget. One might think, it is related to his fear of fall. However, it is only partially true. His dizziness on the flying boat is not simply fear of a ride, nor the comedic reversal of roles between the fearless champion and the timid therapist. It is the physical echo of a lifetime of trauma — the kind the body never forgets.

A fighter’s training does not harden the vestibular system; it punishes it. Years of repeated blows (chapter 72)— even those that fall short of a diagnosable concussion — accumulate inside the inner ear like invisible fractures. The system responsible for balance, spatial orientation, and visual stabilization becomes worn, over-calibrated to impact but under-prepared for fluctuation. A man can be conditioned to withstand punches that would floor an ordinary person, yet still falter when the world tilts beneath him.

This is exactly what we witness on the flying boat. Jaekyung turns pale long before the motion becomes violent. His breathing shifts. His body stiffens. He clings to the safety bar not out of embarrassment, but because his senses are betraying him. These are classic signs of vestibular sensitivity — the lightheadedness, the nausea triggered by visual motion, the momentary whiteouts where vision loses stability, the delayed recovery after sudden shifts in height. Boxers experience it. Wrestlers experience it. MMA fighters live with it. But Jaekyung’s case carries a sharper edge.

Because his vulnerability is not merely the byproduct of sport.

It carries the ghost of childhood instability — the disorientation of being struck by someone who should have protected him, the instinctive bracing for impact, the nights when the world spun not from amusement but from fear. (chapter 72) The body he trained into steel was built upon a nervous system shaped by violence. Let’s not forget that before his father died, the latter hit his head with a bottle once again. (chapter 73) Finally, he started fighting at such a young age, (chapter 72), actually boxing at such a young age is limited to non-contact activities like footwork drills, shadowboxing, jump rope, basic strength & coordination, bag work with very light gloves. So there is no sparring, no head contact. (chapter 72)

It can survive force, but unpredictability — the rocking of a boat, the sudden drop of a height — awakens old alarms he never learned to silence. And now, you comprehend why Mingwa placed this panel just before they got on the boat! (chapter 83) This is what his father should have done in the past.

This is why the flying boat becomes his “thunder of the sea.” Not a thrill. A warning.

While Dan rises with the air (chapter 83) — light, joyful, awakened — Jaekyung is dragged back toward the element he once drowned in. His dizziness is the somatic memory of a boy who learned to endure chaos by stillness, who now finds himself unable to breathe when the world refuses to stay still.

And yet, even after this destabilizing moment, the athlete refuses to give up (chapter 83), thus they try other rides. It is important, because it implies that Joo Jaekyung is gradually leaving the water! This explicates why later something extraordinary happens. (chapter 83) He opens one eye — just one — and in that tiny gesture, the entire emotional axis of the chapter tilts. It is not the instinct of a fighter checking his surroundings; it is the instinct of a man searching for someone. The flying boat lurches beneath him, the air rushing past in violent arcs, yet all his focus narrows to a single point of stillness: Kim Dan.
(chapter 83) This moment mirrors Dan’s earlier “sunrise” panel, but in reverse. Where Dan’s face emerged from shadow into light, Jaekyung’s eye emerges from strain into clarity.
Where Dan stepped into awakening, Jaekyung clings to consciousness, seeking an anchor.

And that is why this panel is so quietly devastating. He does not open his eye to judge the ride or assess danger;
he opens it to find the lightness he cannot produce within himself, due to the guilt he is carrying in himself.

He is pale, dizzy, destabilized — the seat rocks like a wave he cannot fight — and instinctively, his gaze reaches outward for the one thing that steadies him. And there he sees it:

Dan smiling. Dan at ease. Dan radiant in the wind. (chapter 83)

It hits him like a beam of sunlight breaking through nausea, fear, and vertigo. (chapter 83) In the song’s language, this is his “rising of the sun” moment — not because he feels lightness, but because he perceives it in someone else. The warmth he cannot generate becomes visible in the face of the man beside him.

For Dan, love rises like morning.
For Jaekyung, love enters like light through a crack — a single opened eye.

And in that sliver of brightness, he breathes again. It is a pure parallel to the song’s line — “Love is in the air, everywhere I look around” — because that is exactly what he does: he looks around, and his gaze lands on Dan. The doctor’s smile becomes the only stable point in the shifting world. Jaekyung’s competitiveness, his jealousy of the rollercoaster, his greed for Dan’s smile — all of it collapses into something softer once his body falters.

For the first time, he allows himself to rely on someone else. To conclude, the ride — with its water-like arcs and unpredictable shifts — becomes a symbolic reenactment of the environment that shaped him. This is the song’s “thunder of the sea”: violent motion, destabilizing memory, fear disguised as nausea.

Yet despite his struggle, something remarkable awakens. Joo Jaekyung is still enjoying his time with his fated partner. Thus he wished to stay longer there. (chapter 83) It is because he enjoys listening to doc Dan. He enjoys his voice and words. This is not the internal voice of a fighter; it is the voice of someone falling in love without yet understanding how strong his feelings are.

He is too dizzy to perform adulthood, too overwhelmed to hide behind rank or reputation. The fragility he has always repressed leaks through every line of his body — and for the first time, he lets it. Thus he follows his heart and wins a huge teddy bear and buys headbands.

To conclude, the flying boat marks the moment (chapter 83),when Joo Jaekyung is stripped of his armor. The amusement park returns him to something raw, trembling, unfinished. But instead of shame, there is warmth. Instead of anger, there is gratitude. (chapter 83) Instead of retreat, there is reaching — a quiet but unmistakable reaching toward the man beside him. The problem is that he is still too scared to voice his thoughts in front of the physical therapist.

This represents another step of Jaekyung’s transformation: the shift from solitary dragon to partner, from survivor to someone who longs to be understood. And here, the parallel with his earlier metaphor becomes striking.
Back in Chapter 29, he described challengers as hyenas nipping at his heels , (chapter 29) a swarm of predators waiting for him to slow down. His career was an ocean of teeth and waves — constant motion, constant danger. Thus I detected a progression. In episode 69, he jumped onto the boat (chapter 69), then at the amusement park, the boat was in the air (chapter 83) Thus I deduce that the boat is “the last wave” he rides.

Once it stops, his world no longer moves with the violence of water. When he ascends the Ferris wheel (chapter 83), he rises into air — the first air he has breathed without fear.

He leaves the sea behind. He leaves the waves of fighters behind. He leaves the ocean of survival behind. Therefore I am sensing that the athlete is about to change his career and path. He will stop acting as a fighter only. That moment of ascent — quiet, suspended, pink-lit — is the moment he finally becomes what he was always meant to be: not prey chased across waves, not a beast trapped in turbulence, but a dragon lifting into the sky.

And the first breath of that ascent — the first hint of air entering lungs long constrained — begins beside Dan, in a gently swinging gondola at sunset.

The two men meet there in the subtle overlap between air and sea —
between awakening and unraveling,
between lightness and instability,
between childhood and adulthood.

The whisper of the trees meets the thunder of the sea.
And the love that neither can yet name floats quietly between them.

The Ferris Wheel — Where Dream and Reality Finally Meet

The emotional architecture of Chapter 83 only reveals its full depth when placed beside the earlier night-and-morning dyad of Chapters 44 and 45. Those chapters form a pair of opposites: a false dream (chapter 44) followed by a false dawn. Chapter 44 unfolds in artificial night — neon (chapter 44) and night lamp (chapter 44) — a landscape where nothing is stable and nothing is truly felt. Jaekyung is drunk, his consciousness slipping in and out of awareness; Dan, overwhelmed and inexperienced (when it comes to relationship), projects meaning onto a moment that cannot hold it. He wishes time would “stand still,” but he is wishing against reality. The entire scene is built on one-sided desire. The intimacy is sensory, not emotional. Dan longs to “get to know” (chapter 44) someone who is not present, rather drunk. But getting to know someone means communication. It is precisely the illusion captured in the song’s confession: I don’t know if I’m just dreaming… I don’t know if I see it true… And he wasn’t seeing it true; he was dreaming alone.

Then comes Chapter 45 — cruel daylight, harsh and flat, the sun stripped of warmth. (chapter 45) Morning light becomes a scalpel. There is no magic left, no gentleness, no room for misunderstanding. Jaekyung’s bluntness (chapter 45) annihilates the illusion Dan had constructed the night before. This is not heartbreak; it is disenchantment, the almost physical pain of realizing a moment meant nothing to the other person involved. Chapter 44 was the dream, and Chapter 45 was its punishment. Together they show a relationship out of sync, two people whose desires never touch at the same time. One wishes for home and attention, while the other has no idea that he is loved. So far, he has never heard this: “I love you”. One tries to reach out emotionally, while the other remains absent. However, when they are both lucid, none of them are totally honest, as they are self confused. Thus they are in two different worlds.

Chapter 83 is the first time those worlds merge. Hence we have the purple sky! (chapter 83) This scene confirmed my previous interpretation about the symbolism of the blue/golden hour.

Everything that failed in Chapters 44 and 45 is repaired — not by repetition, but by transformation. (chapter 83) The setting is no longer artificial night nor cold morning. It is true daylight — warm, golden, forgiving. Both men are fully conscious. Both are vulnerable. Both are honest. Both are sober. And for the first time, both want the same thing at the same time. This mutuality is the quiet miracle that turns an ordinary Ferris wheel cabin into a sacred emotional space. When Dan looks toward the horizon and murmurs, (chapter 83), the wolf thinks, with disarming sincerity, he is thankful toward the physical therapist. ” The wish that destroyed them in Chapter 44 now binds them together in Chapter 83. Suspended high in the sky, they share the same breath, the same light, the same fragile desire. This is where John Paul Young’s lyrics finally find their home: And I don’t know if I’m being foolish… don’t know if I’m being wise… but it’s something that I must believe in… and it’s there when I look in your eyes. And now it is the champion’s turn to become brave and confess his feelings to doc Dan, but like it was just revealed: Joo Jaekyung refused to repeat his confession! (chapter 83)

And the Ferris wheel forces them to talk to each other and face that truth. Unlike that night when Jaekyung could simply roll over and fall asleep, or that morning when Dan could retreat into silence, the Ferris wheel offers no escape route. They are trapped together — enclosed, elevated, suspended. Neither can walk away. (chapter 45) Neither can pretend not to feel. Neither can avoid the other’s gaze. They must see each other as they are, in that moment. And miraculously, neither flinches. There is no denial, no deflection, no cruelty. Only two men who finally dare to look. Whereas Chapter 44 let them hide behind darkness and drunkenness, and Chapter 45 forced them into cold exposure, Chapter 83 holds them in a gentle, suspended in-between: the space where dream and reality finally meet.

And Mingwa gives this moment a witness (chapter 83) — the enormous Teddy Bear Jaekyung won earlier that day. In the cramped Ferris wheel cabin, the bear sits with them, silent and soft, absorbing every unspoken emotion. It becomes the guardian of the day’s truth, the counterweight to the night of Chapter 44. Nothing from this moment can be denied, rewritten, or dismissed as drunken illusion. The bear remembers. It carries the warmth of Dan’s rediscovered childhood, the soreness of Jaekyung’s fear on the boat, the sweetness of their awkwardness, the courage of their mutual wish. Later, when Dan sees the bear again, he will remember not the fear of falling, not the dizziness, not the awkwardness — but the moment Jaekyung looked at him and apologized to him. Hence later the doctor is seen looking at his present (chapter 84) and holding the bear’s hand. (chapter 84) The bear contains the view, the sunset, the air, the honesty — everything that neither of them can run away from now.

This is why the Ferris wheel scene is more than a romantic interlude; it is a structural correction of the narrative wound created in Chapters 44 and 45. It does not repeat the night. It redeems it. It heals the morning. It merges the suspended magic of Chapter 44 with the daylight honesty of Chapter 45 — but only because both are willing, present, open. For the first time, their timing aligns. For the first time, neither is dreaming alone. For the first time, love is truly in the air, not as fantasy nor delusion, but as a shared, breathing reality. But wait… in episode 84, there is no “I like you,” no dramatic declaration, no romance in words. So it looks like my association was wrong. (chapter 84) Instead, what rises between them is something quieter and far more intimate: penance. The fighter does not confess love; he confesses his faults. He does not offer desire; he offers regret. In Jinx, this is the deeper beginning of love, because an apology centers the other person’s pain rather than one’s own feelings. Then Jaekyung admits he was wrong, he gives Dan something far more valuable than a confession — he gives recognition. The hamster has rights, he can express his thoughts and feelings.

This is why the air in the cabin feels charged despite the lack of explicit emotion. Love appears not as a statement but as a change in behavior, a cessation of superiority, a willingness to repair what was broken. For the first time, they meet on equal ground: the athlete stripped of his dominance, the therapist freed from his habitual submission. Neither plays a role; both simply exist honestly in the same small space. They are both humans.

And in this suspended moment, John Paul Young’s refrain drifts quietly into the scene—not as music, but as meaning. Because what unfolds in the cabin is exactly the tension the song names:

Both men stand at that threshold. Dan is wise enough to hope again, hence he is holding the teddy bear’s hand (chapter 84), but foolish enough to remain cautious and remain silent. (chapter 84)

Jaekyung is foolish enough not repeat his words (chapter 84) (chapter 84), but wise enough to regret immediately. (chapter 84) He is also wise enough to care deeply and repair instead of demand. Thus his apology feels so genuine.

Their intimacy is not built on certainty but on uncertainty bravely shared. Not on declarations, but on communication—hesitant, imperfect, but real. Not on fantasy, but on the courage to face each other without hiding. And that’s the common point between these two places in the air (chapter 45) (chapter 84) (chapter 84) Both men are not brave enough to confess their true feelings to their fated partner. Hence both came to regret their actions. (chapter 46) (chapter 46) The champion also played “dumb”. Thus the pillow got punched later. (chapter 84) He shouldn’t have thrown away his “feelings”. So by rubbing the hand of the toy, doc Dan is gradually expressing the return of “his greed and hope”.

The Ferris wheel becomes the place where foolishness and wisdom merge, where vulnerability replaces power, and where air itself begins to carry the shape of a future neither of them can yet name…but both can finally feel.

I was almost finished, when chapter 84 got released. Hence I could enrich the last part.

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

Jinx: The Scent 🧴✨🌸Of The Jinx 🦈⚡☁️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The champion’s hickeys

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

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

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

The Plane and its Scent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 10Chapter 22Chapter 32

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

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

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

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

The Location And The Fall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Airport as threshold

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Birth of New Rituals

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx: The Watery Point 🔵 Of No Return ⤵️

Water and Power

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

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

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

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

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

(chapter 65)

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

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

Presents: The Gray Hoodie and the Lady

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From this upbringing stems Kim Dan’s reflexive equation:

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

Guilt as Love Language.

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

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

Caretaker Identity and Self-Erasure


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

Gifts as Triggers of Anxiety

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

Repetition Compulsion

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

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

Gray: The Color of Suspension.

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

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

The Wardrobe: Undoing the Gray Religion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arc 8 – The point of no return

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx: Kim Dan 🐹 on Thin Ice 🧊🥶

Introduction: The Return of the Smile

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gaze That Heals

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Body on Thin Ice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Opening the Wardrobe: The Champion’s First Unscripted Gesture

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Mistake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Body That Hurts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Body That Learns to Float

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx: This has to change 🌬️🌀🍃

Chapter 79 proved my previous interpretation correct: the number 9 announces the end of a circle. (chapter 79) However, let me ask you this. What kind of circle ends in episode 79? Moreover, how is this ending different from the past? Interesting is that episode 79 of Jinx doesn’t end with conflict, but with an awakening. For the first time, Joo Jaekyung does not rise to fight, command, or perform — he wakes up to a realization: “This can’t go on.” In the Korean version, his words carry an unusual clarity. It is not fate that changes, but choice. The champion, who once lived as if enslaved by habit and haunted by ghosts, now chooses transformation. The circle that has defined his life — power, silence, guilt, and repression — finally begins to close.

The decision is quiet but monumental: he will no longer live in a cycle of fear and self-loathing. (chapter 79) Until now, Jaekyung has moved through life as if carrying a curse — the belief that he is unworthy of care and love. (chapter 78) Every match, every order, every touch was an act of penance. Yet, in this episode, that belief dissolves. What vanishes in chapter 79 is not his strength, but the compulsion to suffer for it. Through the unconscious confession from Doc Dan, the wolf discovers that despite his wrongdoings, he is not hated by the “hamster”. (chapter 79)The words carry the same emotional weight as (chapter 39) from the magical night in the States. Both moments unfold in half-darkness, both break through inhibition, and both blur the line between consciousness and surrender. The verbal difference hides a deeper sameness: (chapter 79) is not remorse alone — it is an act of love, an instinctive reaching-out toward the other’s pain.

Mingwa mirrors the composition of these two scenes to stress their equivalence. The parted lips, the contrast between the heavy breath and the mumbling, the closeness of skin — all visual echoes that turn guilt into a language of tenderness. In chapter 39, the confession was drug-induced, raw and unfiltered, but afterward Jaekyung dismissed it with a laugh: (chapter 41) What could have been a moment of truth was repressed through mockery. His body language was betraying him: his closed arms reveal that he was on the defensive. By trivializing love, he protected himself from suffering and as such from facing his own capacity for harm. Behind the joke hid an immense self-loathing: to accept the confession as real would have required believing himself worthy of it. To trust himself…. he is not a loser, a nobody!

Chapter 79 reverses that denial. This time, the athlete cannot turn away or make light of what he hears. (chapter 79) The doctor’s voice — faint, sleep-bound, and sincere — forces him to listen. The “mistake” returns, transformed into absolution. Where laughter once erased meaning, silence now restores it. The champion finally grasps that Dan’s words, whether “I love you” or “I’m sorry,” spring from the same place: care that persists despite injury.

This is why the “blue night” cannot be read as accident or madness. It is revelation. The wolf sees, perhaps for the first time, that he can be forgiven — that love, for Dan, includes compassion for his flaws. The “I’m sorry” becomes the mirror image of the earlier “I love you,” not a repetition but a correction. What Jaekyung once labeled a mistake now stands as proof of connection, as if fate itself were rewriting the joke into a prayer.

The End of a Circle

Each chapter ending in nine has marked emotional completion: chapter 9’s first gesture of care (chapter 9), 29’s confession on the couch (chapter 29), 69’s first expression of feelings in the dark (chapter 69). In chapter 79, the circle closes once more. The night’s palette tells the story — deep blue softens into violet (chapter 64) (chapter 79), the color born from the fusion of blue (Dan’s sorrow) and red (Jaekyung’s intensity). For the first time, in the penthouse the color of their relationship is not pain but balance. And now, you comprehend why in the hallway, the purple had almost vanished: (chapter 79) The light purple – lavender that once filled their world turns (chapter 66) (chapter 79) fades into the cold blue of the night. The light shifts — not toward warmth, but toward fragility. The purple, symbol of fusion, nearly disappears, leaving behind the dominant blue of isolation and fear. (chapter 79) This chromatic regression visualizes what happens next: in the hallway, both men are still haunted by their separate pain. Dan, drawn by the pull of despair and self-loathing, almost falls over the railing. Jaekyung, still guided by fear, rushes to catch him. (chapter 79)

The blue in this scene is not mere sadness — it is the residue of old wounds resurfacing. It unites them through pain rather than peace, yet this unity marks the turning point. The absence of purple is what propels the wolf to make a decision: he is about to drop his routine and as such his past believes, like for example, his life is still his first priority or he is just a shackle. He realizes that color — the life and warmth in Dan — is fading. (chapter 79) To restore it, he will have to speak, to act, and ultimately, to smile again.

What truly ends here is the Emperor’s old language. The vocabulary of orders — (chapter 79) gives way to the silent recognition of fear. When the champion admits, (chapter 79), it is a confession disguised as complaint. For the first time, he voiced his dependency and vulnerability more clearly, as his body language is no longer expressing hesitation and shyness. Imagine that so far, he had lived following the principle of “self-reliance”. Yet when Dan asks, “What?” the champion retreats: (chapter 79) His feelings collapse into the void between words. Above them, the spiral chandelier glows — the perfect symbol of their unfinished circle. His unspoken fear hangs suspended, waiting to be voiced because of someone else’s actions: the doctor’s grin (chapter 79) and fall (chapter 79) That retreat exposes a deeper fear — not of rejection, but of mockery. The man who once endured his father’s contempt and smirks (chapter 54) still equates vulnerability with humiliation. (chapter 73) In the past, every sign of weakness was punished or laughed at; even longing arrived through ridicule. Hence the “grinning” Dan of his nightmare (chapter 79) should be perceived as a distorted echo of the father’s cruel smile. And now, Jinx-philes can grasp why the wolf woke up from this “dream”. (chapter 79) The vision forces him to confront the origin of his shame. He realizes, instinctively, that the real Kim Dan would never smile at his pain — and through that recognition, he begins to separate present from past. He has already experienced a silent, but warm gaze (chapter 77) from his fated partner after admitting his defeat: (chapter 76)

In silencing or voicing his fear, Jaekyung crosses the boundary between guilt and growth. He is no longer haunted by his father’s accusations like “you’re just trash” or (chapter 73) but by a new, fragile dread: the possibility of losing the one person who would never say it. What vanishes in episode 79 is not his strength, but the belief that to need someone is to be weak.

That completion arrives at night. In his sleep, Kim Dan murmurs, (chapter 79) The two halves of their dialogue finally meet: the fear Jaekyung silenced finds its answer in the apology Dan utters unconsciously. One speaks awake but retracts; the other speaks asleep but reveals. The night itself becomes their interpreter — turning “nothing” into meaning.

Until now, Jaekyung’s remorse had lived without a voice. (chapter 78) He has long recognized his wrongdoings — the pressure, the harshness, the selfishness (chapter 76) — but guilt without self-forgiveness remains sterile. What is the point of apologizing to someone when you cannot forgive yourself? His silence, then, is not arrogance but self-condemnation. Beneath his strength lies a man who believes that no apology can redeem him, because no one ever offered him one first. His father’s mockery, his coach’s reproaches (chapter 74) and expectations, his mother’s betrayal (chapter 74), his manager’s slap at the hospital (chapter 52) — none of them ever voiced regret and said “I’m sorry.”

Fighting became his substitute for repentance. (chapter 73) Every punch was an act of self-erasure, every victory a brief anesthesia against the echo of his own self-loathing and regrets. He mistook exhaustion for atonement. But when Kim Dan whispers (chapter 79) in his sleep, something shifts. The word that once chained him to guilt now sounds different — tender, not accusatory. For the first time, he experiences apology as care, not as confession.

That is why this night matters. It teaches the champion what he was never taught: that forgiveness is not granted by punishment, but by connection and communication. Through Kim Dan’s unconscious words, he senses that he can be forgiven — that love does not vanish because of fault. He is still accepted despite his wrongdoings, not because he hides them. For the first time, Joo Jaekyung begins to believe that being loved and being imperfect can coexist. And in that fragile belief, change truly begins.

The Fall of the Angel

The dream of the wolf is not punishment — it is confession. It becomes the space where Jaekyung’s unconscious dares to speak what he hides from waking life. (chapter 79) His vision of Kim Dan’s false grin is not a taunt from the other (chapter 79), but a message from within: You shouldn’t have hidden your fear. You should have trusted me. What appears as irony is, in truth, the echo of a moment that had once wounded him — the doctor’s trembling question, (chapter 51) The dream revives that unspoken answer, revealing that what Jaekyung perceived as danger was, in fact, an offer of trust. In trying to protect himself from mockery, he denied the very connection that could have saved him. The dream reconstructs the very morning he had dismissed his vulnerability (chapter 79)— the breakfast scene (chapter 79) , the casual (chapter 79) By replaying it in this distorted form, his mind stages a confrontation with his own denial.

The wolf’s remorse takes the shape of fear. In his dream, Jaekyung finally admits that he cannot bear to lose the one person who makes him feel human (chapter 79) — yet even there, his confession is shadowed by dread. (chapter 79) The grin that startles him awake is his own projection of unhappiness and shame, the echo of the mockery he once received from his father. But the truth beneath it is different: his soul is telling him that vulnerability is not ridicule, that he must stop silencing himself.

The resemblance between dream and reality is deliberate. The kitchen reappears, the same domestic warmth, the same silence. The unconscious replays what the conscious has failed to complete — the moment he turned away instead of speaking his fear aloud. His body wakes before his mind does, moving instinctively toward redemption. When he finds Kim Dan by the railing (chapter 79), it is as if he is saving not only his partner but the part of himself that used to give up. He was living like a ghost denying his own emotions.

A few days before, the champion had called Dan’s drowning “an accident.” (chapter 78) That word revealed his blindness — the refusal to acknowledge pain that does not announce itself through wounds. The new incident at the railing shatters that illusion. It was never an accident, but the expression of mental illness (chapter 79) Both events spring from the same silent cry for help, the same exhaustion he once ignored. This time, he sees it for what it is: suffering, not weakness. The shock of recognition becomes his wake-up call — not to fight harder, but to understand deeper. The problem is that so far the champion never had a true companion, hence he has not learned how to share thoughts and emotions to others. This explicates why doc Dan is actually the one initiating the conversation. (chapter 77) (chapter 80) Each time, the physical therapist shows concerns for the athlete’s well-being. He perceives this change of behavior as the expression of unwell-being.

Symbolically, the near fall (chapter 80) represents the danger of repeating inherited unhappiness and despair — the impulse toward surrender that has haunted the doctor. Both the ocean (chapter 69), and the balcony (chapter 79) embody the same impulse — escape — yet they reveal two distinct forms of suffocation. In the sea, Kim Dan moves toward the element that promises oblivion through absorption: water swallows, erases boundaries, and offers rest through dissolution. It is the drowning of exhaustion, of someone who wishes to return to the womb of stillness. On the balcony, however, the element shifts to air — the emptiness between life and death. Falling from a high place is the asphyxiation: the lungs collapse not by immersion but by void. Both gestures — walking into the waves and leaning over the railing — spring from the same inner logic: the unbearable weight of pain and expectation. But if water and air unite, they create clouds (chapter 38) — the very image that defines Kim Dan’s being. The clouds on his phone screen are not incidental; they reflect his essence. A cloud has no home, no fixed form, forever moving, dissolving, reforming — just like the doctor’s life, endlessly displaced and redefined by others’ expectations. Clouds embody both dream and danger: they promise transcendence but conceal the storm. Besides, a cloud can fall as rain, return to the ocean, or vanish into the sky — an image of the soul that oscillates between grounding and escape.

As soon as I made this connection, I couldn’t help myself thinking of the painting in the background of chapter 37: (chapter 37) Behind the champion, the Golden Gate Bridge stands as a silent witness — a place where many have ended their lives by leaping into the void between air and water. The bridge fuses both symbols: it is where drowning and falling meet. Moreover, the bridge embodies the connection of two worlds. This backdrop, unnoticed by the protagonists themselves, prefigures the later arcs. Joo Jaekyung is the one standing between the bridge and the physical therapist. It was, as if the author was already announcing the huge depression doc Dan would face in the future. At the same time, I came to wonder if the unconscious suicidal attempts from Doc Dan were actually revealing the biggest secret in his life: the suicide of his parents and their death could be linked to a bridge. Striking is that while the members of Team Black were partying (chapter 37), death was standing behind the celebrity and this reminded me of the champion’s last genuine smile (chapter 73) before he discovered Joo Jaewoong’s corpse. The bridge thus becomes a metaphor for invisible grief: joy and pain occurring simultaneously, one masking the other. And keep in mind that according to my theory, the picture of Dan with his grandmother is hiding a tragedy. This would explain why doc Dan is so obsessed with this picture: (chapter 47) The smiles here are hiding the past reality.

But let’s return our attention to the champion’s vision in episode 79. In that same duality (water/air) lies salvation. (chapter 79) The dream that wakes Jaekyung is not a nightmare but a revelation. He senses that the smirk is not the reality, but also the mask hiding misery. The greeting from the smiling Dan (chapter 79) — so unlike his real, exhausted self — is a vision of peace, of love unburdened by fear, while this grin exposes the truth. The dream, the realm of clouds, becomes a stage where the wolf shows and learns tenderness. The dream’s fear and indirect self-reproach (chapter 79) becomes action; remorse (chapter 79) turns into rescue.

That’s how I noticed that so far, the champion never greeted his room mate with a good morning and smile in the morning. (chapter 41) In other words, the dream is giving him clues as well how to behave: not only greeting, but also talking. What caught my attention is that during their two last breakfasts together (chapter 68), they didn’t talk at all (chapter 79) which contrasts to the star’s vision.

In the dream, he had fallen to his knees — a gesture of humility and unspoken remorse. Yet in reality, the fall takes a gentler form. (chapter 79) He does not kneel; he sits, his body settling softly against the floor as he catches Dan in his arms. The man once associated with dominance becomes a cushion, a pillow, a living anchor. His strength, once used to impose weight, now exists to absorb it. The fall is not toward repentance through pain, but toward tenderness through stillness.

This inversion transforms descent into grounding. The wolf who once incited Dan to kneel (chapter 11) now becomes the one who receives the collapse. (chapter 79) His body — no longer an instrument of violence — turns into safety itself. In that moment, he is neither fighter nor emperor, but a quiet surface where another can rest. The fall that once signified defeat now marks awakening: the champion’s muscles, built for battle, finally serve their true purpose — to hold, not to harm; to bear, to protect, not to break.

The Mercy Of The False Saint

That’s how I detected another pattern. Kim Dan’s speech is tethered to touch — every genuine confession or plea emerges only when he is held. Physical contact functions as emotional permission: the body grants what words alone cannot. His first “I love you” (chapter 39) escapes him in an embrace; his (chapter 66) (chapter 66) trembles out against Jaekyung’s chest; his (chapter 79) is whispered while clinging to the same body. Even as a child (chapter 57), he could only confide while being physically comforted. The grandmother’s embrace in chapter 57 becomes the prototype of this pattern — the last instance of safety tied to voice. Yet, crucially, that embrace was conditional and silencing. She soothed him but redirected his pain: (chapter 57) Instead of validating his pain and terrible experience, she absorbed it into her own narrative of endurance. The physical comfort coexisted with emotional invalidation — he was held but not heard.

And this interpretation (the touch is triggering the doctor’s desire for communication) got even corroborated by the latest episode. (chapter 80) The moment the star was holding doc Dan’s hands, the latter started voicing more his emotions (fears, displeasure). (chapter 80) When Jaekyung takes his hands in the swimming pool, the gesture revives this primal language of reassurance. For the first time, the touch is neither coercive nor desperate; it’s sustaining. The handhold reverses the earlier dynamic — instead of silencing him, it gives him permission to speak. Furthermore, the champion is pointing out that he can rely on two things, the champion’s hands and the kickboard belt. This stands in opposition to the fake promise of Shin Okja. (chapter 57) (chapter 57) In other words, he is inciting the doctor to trust himself more and become independent. (chapter 80) (chapter 80) The champion’s words — “If you ever end up in the water, you can come back to shore as long as you know how to swim” — stand in quiet but radical opposition to the grandmother’s old reassurance: “You still have me.”
Both statements aim to comfort, yet they embody two entirely different philosophies of love. Shin Okja’s version of care was possession and control disguised as protection. Her “You still have me” offers solace by denying reality — her own mortality and it erased the boy’s suffering and loss and his capacity to cope. It promises stability but at the cost of autonomy: he is safe only through her. Love, in her logic, means dependence. Jaekyung’s line, by contrast, offers trust instead of control. (chapter 80) His comfort does not deny danger — he acknowledges the possibility of falling into the water — but he links survival to skill, not assistance and dependency. His statement affirms Dan’s agency: he can save himself. Once he can swim, he is strong enough. Where the grandmother sought to replace the absent parents (chapter 65), the champion seeks to restore the missing confidence.

This is why the swimming lesson in chapter 80 carries so much symbolic weight. It is not only about overcoming fear of water, but about learning to float between love and self-sufficiency. (chapter 80) He just needs to learn and trust his own body and skills. For the first time, someone tells Kim Dan that he doesn’t need to cling to live. The wolf’s hands do not promise eternal rescue; they teach assurance and confidence.

Through this opposition, Mingwa traces the transformation of care in Jinx: from the grandmother’s pitying dependency to Jaekyung’s empowering faith. The very moment the wolf steadies his trembling fingers, the doctor begins to voice his worries and fears, words that previously only surfaced through sleepwalking or half-conscious murmurs. That’s why I believe that this embrace (chapter 80) in the swimming pool carries transformative potential. It is not merely a gesture of survival, but an initiation into honesty. Surrounded by water, both men are stripped of pretense. And observe that Joo Jaekyung is not rejecting the physical embrace (chapter 80) contrary to the past. (chapter 28) (chapter 69) The wolf, who once relied on dominance and silence, is now allowing his fated partner to hug him. (chapter 80) He accepts his vulnerability and struggles. In the swimming pool, the athlete is also learning to reassure instead of command. Dan, who has long associated touch with consolation and suppression, begins to experience it as safety and trust.

In that moment, their bodies speak what their words still resist: trust me. (chapter 80) The embrace might become the very impulse that pushes them toward verbal honesty — toward saying what they have long hidden. For Dan, it means learning to voice his needs and desires without shame; for Jaekyung, it means acknowledging his feelings without fear of losing control or strength.

But let’s return our attention to the physical therapist’s childhood. (chapter 57) Dan came later to associate love with contradiction: touch equals permission to speak, yet speaking never brings resolution. His psyche learned that disclosure leads nowhere — the listener (the grandmother) offers affection, not change. That’s the reason why he came to suppress his thoughts and emotions and project onto his grandmother. Her way of dealing with pain was denial, rooted in her own fear of trouble and probably social judgment. From my point of view, it is related to the secrecy surrounding the family’s past.

Furthermore, for the hamster, the embrace is more than comfort — it is survival. (chapter 21) From childhood onward, being held becomes the only assurance that the world still contains care. When he woke crying and was taken into his grandmother’s arms (chapter 21), the patting gesture did not merely quiet his fear; it taught him that consolation requires contact. Yet this early lesson carried a hidden cost: it trained him to associate peace with submission and silence, and affection with dependency. Therefore the swimming lesson contains another important life lesson: it is about choice! Joo Jaekyung wants to be “chosen” by the physical therapist, hence he wants to conquer his heart. (chapter 80) That’s the reason why he can not change doc Dan’s heart and mind with the new clothes. For that, he needs to reveal his “weakness” to the physical therapist.

When the puppy died, Dan instinctively tried to recreate that lost safety. (chapter 59) His hand resting on Boksoon’s fur repeats the same motion — the pat once given to him, now returned to another being in pain. What he offers the animal is precisely what he has always longed for: warmth without judgment, touch without condition.

This explains why every later confession — “I love you,” “Don’t leave me,” “I’m sorry” — is born inside an embrace. Speech emerges only when his body feels that safety again. Yet, until now, the wolf’s touch has never been a true confession. The wolf initially held him through instinct (chapter 4), not intention: a reflex of possession, not communication. As time passed on, it changed, yet in the bathtub (chapter 68), Dan fell asleep against him so that he could never experience the athlete’s care (chapter 68); in the morning, Jaekyung acted as though nothing had happened. Then on the dock, Joo Jaekyung expressed his relief (chapter 69), yet he never explained the reason behind his behavior. Besides, he removed himself from Doc Dan very quickly. There was no continuity between touch and word, no bridge from body to heart. The embrace between them was marked by silence.

Only now, in the night of chapter 79, does that change. (chapter 79) The embrace that once silenced finally begins to speak. Dan’s trembling body against Jaekyung’s chest reactivates all those buried associations — fear, need, longing — but this time, the silence is attentive. The champion listens. The gesture that once merely soothed now confesses.

When Shin Okja finally apologizes (chapter 53), she frames her guilt in terms of debt, not grief. What she cannot say is: “I’m sorry your parents are gone, and I buried the truth.” Her compassion never touches the core wound. Instead, she redirects her remorse into pity (chapter 65), a safer, one-sided emotion that keeps her in control. Pity allows her to appear virtuous while avoiding responsibility. It transforms shared pain into hierarchy: she the giver, he the grateful recipient.

This emotional economy defines Kim Dan’s childhood. He was loved through guilt, not through recognition. Every tender gesture — the pat on the head (chapter 57), the hug after bullying — carries the unspoken message: “You’re unfortunate, but you still have me.” That is not empathy; as she is not showing any sign of distress and pain. In my eyes, it is containment. It keeps the child dependent, silent, and bound by gratitude.

Hence, her confession to the celebrity (chapter 65) reveal the same mechanism. The focus remains on her heart, her pain, her goodness, not on his loss. She centers herself within his tragedy. Pity becomes a mask for unacknowledged guilt — perhaps linked to the parents’ disappearance or to choices she justified under social pressure. Her “mercy” is, in truth, a way to maintain her moral purity at the cost of his emotional autonomy.

Through this lens, it becomes clear why Dan needs reciprocal touch to speak. Pity silenced him; touch, when offered without pity, finally frees his voice. This is why the doctor’s embrace in episode 79 marks such a decisive turning point: it is the first time doc Dan is holding someone and that person is taking his words and pain seriously. The champion does not silence or reinterpret what he hears; he simply receives it. For the first time, Dan’s trembling voice is met not with pity, denial, or instruction — but with presence. (chapter 79)

Finally, this moment also exposes Jaekyung’s awakening. Until now, he had followed the grandmother’s advice as if it were gospel: (chapter 65); “bring him to a big hospital so that he can take pills” (chapter 65) (chapter 65) He trusted her words and advises. I would even add that he believed that compliance equaled real care. Yet the night by the balcony teaches him otherwise. (chapter 79) Despite doing everything the “saintly” grandmother prescribed, Dan is still suffering. The illusion collapses: her mercy never healed, it merely concealed. Interesting is that she never brought up to the athlete the doctor’s loss of weight in front of the ocean. Yet, she had noticed it. (chapter 57). Everything evolved around his lack of sleep and his dependency on her. (chapter 65) However, in episode 79, for the first time, the champion notices it. (chapter 79) It is important because very early on, the doctor Cheolmin had already detected his malnutrition: (chapter 13) In other words, the physical therapist’s depression and eating disorder were already existent before meeting the “wolf”. And what did the mysterious friend tell to the “wolf”? He shouldn’t wait out of fear that he might regret it later! (chapter 13) As you can see, “sorry” is the link between the two doctors and the celebrity.

Thus, the “wolf” realizes that love cannot be delegated to duty. (chapter 79) What Dan needs is not obedience to the old woman’s script, but presence, dialogue, and trust. The champion must now do what she never did — look at pain without denial, listen without pity, and finally speak from the heart. This means that after that night, the wolf will gradually change not only his vocabulary, but also his tone and gestures. His metamorphosis will be complete with the birth of the kind and sweet Joo Jaekyung! (chapter 21) Imagine that I had written this part before the release of episode 80!

The secret behind doc Dan’s room

Another detail caught my attention in episode 79 which was confirmed with the publication of episode 80. Doc Dan’s bedroom has always been associated with illness and as such rest! (chapter 21) (chapter 29) (chapter 61) Hence it is no coincidence that while sleeping in his own bedroom, the physical therapist had a relapse. (chapter 79) Because the champion had come to the conclusion that his own bedchamber was linked to sex (chapter 78) and as such “wrongdoings”, the next day, he must have suggested to doc Dan to sleep together in his bed. This explicates why both main leads are sleeping in doc Dan’s bedroom at the end of episode 78: (chapter 78) This shows that the star is listening more and more to his fated partner (chapter 78) And though he had another “accident”, the former is never bringing it up to doc Dan. There’s no blame or accusation. The athlete is keeping these accidents as secrets. However, pay attention that he is making sure that doc Dan is resting. (chapter 80) Notice that he joined him later, acting as if they had not shared the same bed. Gradually, the champion is giving back doc Dan’s freedom and privacy. He is guiding him to take care better of himself by using his own words. (chapter 27) Striking is that the champion always chose the left side of the bed (chapter 79), while he came to sleep much better, when he slept on the other side of the bed: (chapter 66) Thus I deduce that doc Dan is destined to take over his grandmother’s position in the bed: (chapter 21) And this observation seems to be validated by chapter 80. (chapter 80) The star was sitting on the right side of the bed while watching his sleeping partner. Why? It is because he can see his face. But by lying on the left side, doc Dan came to turn his back to him. (chapter 78) But if they switch places, the wolf should be able to watch his partner’s face. And now, pay attention to the way Mingwa placed the new embrace in the swimming pool: (chapter 80) Doc Dan is placed on the left side…. and that’s where the heart is placed. Doc Dan’s racing heart is displaying not only the revival of his repressed affection for the champion, but also his desire to live. He is not truly suicidal, as all his attempts were unconscious choices.

The second “accident”

I have to admit that after reading this image (chapter 78), it was clear to me that the doctor would make a new suicidal attempt during his sleep walking. I was already anticipating him to go to the rooftop, thus the new incident didn’t catch me by surprise. Yet, chapter 79 gave us an important clue about doc Dan’s dissociative state (sleepwalking). They were all triggered: (chapter 79) Because of the champion’s cold gaze, doc Dan felt rejected and even hated. (chapter 79) He had the impression that he wouldn’t meet his “expectations”. Observe the parallels between the champion’s dream (chapter 79) and the doctor’s reply in front of Shin Okja: (chapter 57) We have the doctor’s fake smile which is strongly linked to rejection (chapter 57) and expectations. And what is the other common denominator? His self-loathing and immense guilt. He has the feeling that he is not lovable. In my opinion, doc Dan is suffering because no one is listening to him at all. So far, they all projected their own thoughts onto him. The reality is that doc Dan already had a hard time before moving to the seaside town, (chapter 11) yet she failed to notice it or refused to face his struggles, as they were related to their poverty.

Because he lived alone for a long time without any physical touch (chapter 5), he lost his voice and became a ghost. It is no coincidence that in this scene, doc Dan was silent despite the caress. He was avoiding any topic that could trouble his grandmother. He accepted to remain a little boy in her eyes. But thanks to the wolf, doc Dan is learning to become strong and independent so that he can decide about his life. The swimming lesson is pushing him to overcome his abandonment issues.

The Songs of Change

While I was on my way to visit my son ( a 6 hours trip), I listened to an old CD from French singer Jean-Louis Aubert entitled Ideal Standard. While listening to the music, three songs — “On vit d’amour,” “On aime comme on a été aimé,” and “Parle-moi” caught my attention. They reminded me a lot of the main couple.

If the previous night (chapter 79) marked the end of a circle, then the next day announces a new rhythm — one that no longer follows the tempo of fighting or guilt, but of tenderness. These 3 songs form a hidden soundtrack to this transformation. They mirror, with startling precision, the inner journey of the champion and his fated companion.

1. “On vit d’amour” — Living on Love

On vit d’amour / Et d’eau fraîche / On vit d’amour, de rien du tout…
We live on love and fresh water / We live on love, on almost nothing at all.

On vit d’amour FrenchWe live on Love English
On vit d’amour
Dans le regard des autres
On vit d’amour
Dans le mien et le votre
On vit d’amour
Quand il n’y a plus d’eau fraiche

On vit d’amour
Tout au fond de la dèche

Laisse le briller
Éclairer
Laisse le venir
Laisse le aller

Car on vit d’amour
On vit d’amour
Sous le bong et les pluies

On vit d’amour
Dans la boue et la suie
On vit d’amour
Jusqu’au bout de la nuit

Laisse le briller
Éclairer
Laisse le venir
Laisse le aller
Laisse lui vivre sa vie d’amour
Car on vit d’amour
On vit d’amour

Je mens, j’aime tant ta main


On vit d’amour
Et je bois à ta bouche
On vit d’amour
On vit d’amour
Toujours

Laisse le briller
Éclairer
Laisse le venir
Laisse le aller
Laisse à l’amour sa liberté

On vit d’amour
On vit d’amour
On vit d’amour
On en vivra
Toujours (2*)

Laisse le briller
Éclairer
Laisse le venir
Laisse le aller
Laisse lui vivre sa vie d’amour
We live on love
In the eyes of others
We live on love
In mine and in yours
We live on love
When there’s no more fresh water
We live on love
At the very depth of poverty
Let it shine,
Let it light,
Let it come,
Let it go.
For we live on love,
We live on love
Under the bong and the rain,
We live on love
In the mud and the soot,
We live on love
All the way through the night.
Let it shine,
Let it light,
Let it come,
Let it go,
Let it live its own life of love,
For we live on love,
We live on love.
I lie — I so love your hand,
We live on love,
And I drink from your mouth,
We live on love,
We live on love,
Forever.
Let it shine,
Let it light,
Let it come,
Let it go,
Let love have its freedom.
(We
Live on love, we
Live on love, we
Live on love,
And we’ll live on it
Forever.)

This refrain captures the quiet revelation at the heart of Jinx: love is sustenance.
Until now, Jaekyung has lived on adrenaline, duty, and pride — mistaking physical dominance for vitality. His meals with Dan were about nutrition (chapter 79), not communion; his affection, an extension of performance (chapter 79). Yet as the doctor grows thinner and more exhausted, the wolf begins to understand what “starvation” truly means. (chapter 79) Dan’s body becomes a metaphor for their shared deficiency — not of food, but of warmth. Although the athlete’s actions were all well-meant, he failed to touch doc Dan’s heart due to the way he spoke to his loved one: (chapter 79)

In On vit d’amour, Aubert contrasts material survival with emotional survival. “We live on love and almost nothing” rejects the capitalist or competitive logic that defines Jaekyung’s world (MFC, rankings, contracts). The line speaks instead to the simplicity of presence — the kind of nourishment that Dan quietly provides through care, routine, and wordless understanding. No wonder why the athlete failed to move doc Dan’s heart by offering so many clothes in episode 80.

This song thus signals the first shift: Jaekyung begins to eat differently — not just at the table, but emotionally. The wolf who once devoured life is gradually learning to taste it through love.

2. “On aime comme on a été aimé” — We Love as We Have Been Loved

On aime comme on a été aimé We love as we have been loved. English translation
On n’invente pas un sentiment
Les baisers donnent l’alphabet
L’amour nous griffe
Ouvre ses plaies
L’amour nous soigne
L’amour nous fait
On aime comme on a été aimé

C’est cela qui nous fait courir
De reproduire et faire grandir
Ce qui nous a été donné
Sans jamais pouvoir en parler
On aime comme on a été aimé

C’est dans les mains de nos parents
C’est dans les coeurs de nos amants
Regard aimé, regard aimant
C’est le plus clair de notre temps
Le plus obscur de nos tourments
On n’apprend pas un sentiment
Même si on veut faire autrement
On aime comme on a été aimé

On dit les chiens n’font pas des chats
Et que l’on est que c’qu’on connait
Qu’on désire ce qu’on n’connait pas
Un autre chien, un autre chat
On aime comme on a été aimé

Toutes ces secondes de tendresse
Dérobées à  l’emporte-pièce
Toutes les claques, les maladresses
Pour que ça dure, pour que ça cesse
On aime comme on a été aimé

C’est dans les mains de nos parents
C’est dans les bras de nos amants
C’est dans les yeux de nos enfants
C’est le plus clair de notre temps
Le plus obscur de nos tourements
On n’invente pas un sentiment
Même si on veut faire autrement
On aime comme on a été aimé

Et j’aime comme tu m’as aimé
We don’t invent a feeling.
Kisses give us the alphabet.
Love scratches us,
Opens its wounds,
Love heals us,
Love makes us.
We love as we have been loved.

That’s what makes us run —
To reproduce and to grow
What was once given to us,
Without ever being able to speak of it.
We love as we have been loved.

It’s in the hands of our parents,
It’s in the hearts of our lovers.
A loved gaze, a loving gaze —
It’s the clearest part of our days,
The darkest part of our torment.
You don’t learn a feeling,
Even when you want to do otherwise.
We love as we have been loved.

They say dogs don’t make cats,
And that we are only what we know,
That we desire what we do not know —
Another dog, another cat.
We love as we have been loved.

All those fleeting seconds of tenderness,
Stolen in haste,
All the slaps, all the clumsy gestures —
So that it lasts, or so that it ends.
We love as we have been loved.

It’s in the hands of our parents,
It’s in the arms of our lovers,
It’s in the eyes of our children.
It’s the clearest part of our days,
The darkest part of our torment.
We don’t invent a feeling,
Even when we want to do otherwise.
We love as we have been loved.

And I love as you have loved me.

On aime comme on a été aimé / On hait comme on a été haï…
We love as we have been loved / We hate as we have been hated.

This lyric exposes the chain both men must break. The author’s line suggests that love is not spontaneous but inherited — modeled through wounds and care. In his childhood, Jaekyung learned rather hatred and misguided affection as domination, silence, lies and endurance, while Dan learned it as sacrifice and appeasement in his grandmother’s care. Both were taught that affection or recognition was not free — through obedience, perfection, or pain.

Throughout Jinx, each reenacts the love they received: the champion demands submission, the therapist offers self-effacement. Yet chapter 79 introduces a turning point — they begin to unlearn this inheritance. (chapter 79) The unconscious apology “I’m sorry, Mr. Joo” is not submission; it is vulnerability freely given. The wolf’s fears in his sleep are not weakness (chapter 79); they are an echo of the love and tenderness he never received.

In this sense, Aubert’s line becomes prophetic: to love differently, they must be loved differently first. This means that b spending time with each other, they will learn how to love each other properly. This is the essence of growth: transforming the very grammar of intimacy they once feared. The story becomes a re-education of the heart — the rewriting of emotional syntax. And episode 80 is the perfect illustration for this change. In love we can make mistakes, but it is important to detect them and learn from them.

3. “Parle-moi” — Talk to Me

Parle-moi, parle-moi de toi / Qu’est-ce que tu veux, qui tu es, où tu vas…
Talk to me, talk to me about yourself / What do you want, who are you, where are you going…

Parle-moi, parle-moi de nous / Tous les deux, qu’est-ce qu’on veut, qu’est-ce qu’on fout…
Talk to me, talk to me about us / The two of us, what do we want, what are we doing…

Parle-moi Talk to Me
Parle-moi
Ce qui nous vient
Nous vient de loi
Ce qui nous tient
Jamais ne nous appartient vraiment

Ce qui nous tue
Gagné, perdu
Ce qu’on a cru
On en a perdu la vue vraiment

Parle-moi, parle-moi de toi
Qu’est-ce tu veux, qui tu es
Où tu vas

Parle-moi, parle-moi de toi
Qu’est-ce tu dis, fais entendre
Ta voix

Ce qu’on nous vend
Ce qu’on nous prend
Mais qu’est-ce qui nous prend
On dirait qu’on a plus l’ temps
A rien
Perdu de vue
Perdu tout court
Peau tendre, coeur pur
On dirait qu’on a plus l’ goût
A rien

Parle-moi, parle-moi de toi
Parle-moi de tes doutes de tes choix
Parle-moi, parle-moi de toi
Qu’est-ce tu dis, plus fort
J’entends pas
Parle-moi de toi

Alors parle-moi, parle-moi de nous
Tous les deux, qu’est-ce qu’on veut
Qu’est-ce qu’on fout
Parle-moi, parle-moi de nous
Avec toi j’irai n’importe où
Parle-moi de toi
What comes to us
Comes from afar.
What holds us
Never truly belongs to us.

What kills us —
Won or lost,
What we once believed —
We’ve truly lost sight of it.

Talk to me, talk to me about you.
What do you want, who are you,
Where are you going?

Talk to me, talk to me about you.
What do you say?
Let me hear your voice.

What they sell us,
What they take from us —
But what’s gotten into us?
It feels like we no longer
Have time for anything.
Lost from sight,
Lost altogether —
Tender skin, pure heart.
It feels like we no longer
Have the taste for anything.

Talk to me, talk to me about you.
Talk to me about your doubts, your choices.
Talk to me, talk to me about you.
What are you saying? Louder —
I can’t hear you.
Talk to me about you.

So talk to me, talk to me about us —
The two of us, what do we want,
What are we doing?
Talk to me, talk to me about us.
With you, I’d go anywhere.
Talk to me about you.

This is the anthem of the new cycle — the song of conversation.
In the beginning, Jaekyung’s language was pure command: “ (chapter 38) (chapter 79) ,” eat” . (chapter 79) His speech created hierarchy, not connection. Aubert’s plea, “Parle-moi”, reverses this logic: it is a call to dialogue, to mutual self-revelation. It embodies exactly what Jaekyung’s dream anticipates — the moment when he will learn to speak with Dan, not at him.

When, in the vision, Dan smiles and says (chapter 79) the tone has changed entirely. The greeting is not fearful or dutiful; it is gentle, open, normal — the image of domestic peace. The dream thus becomes prophetic: language, once the instrument of control, will become a bridge.

Aubert’s words — “Parle-moi de tes doutes, de tes choix” — invite the very vulnerability Jaekyung has never practiced. The wolf who only barked commands must now learn to whisper doubts. The day he speaks softly — “Parle-moi” — will be the day his transformation is complete. Moreover, observe that his repeated plea, “Parle-moi” (“Talk to me”), moves from singular to plural — from me to us. The pronoun shift is decisive: it marks the passage from individual solitude to the possibility of relationship. As long as the “me” dominates, there is distance; only when they learn to say “us” can love begin to exist as dialogue, not projection.

This last strophe, where me dissolves into nous, mirrors precisely where Jaekyung and Dan now stand. They share space, touch, even breath — but not yet language. They might be sharing the same bed, but they don’t talk really to each other and confide to each other. (chapter 80) So far, the nights were full of gestures, yet empty of conversation. Jaekyung would often command and Dan accept everything. Words, when spoken, were often either wounds or vanished into silence. Thus, Aubert’s refrain becomes prophetic: as long as they do not talk, they cannot become a couple.

The line “Avec toi j’irai n’importe où” (“With you, I’d go anywhere”) contains both promise and condition. It imagines a future that depends on mutual speech. To “go anywhere” is not to flee, but to move together — something the two protagonists have never managed. Their shared journey remains suspended in the present, circling between misunderstanding and longing. The dream in chapter 79 — where Dan finally greets him with a smile and a “Good morning, Mr. Joo” (chapter 79) is the first glimpse of this future tense, a promise that conversation will one day replace command. Strangely, this observation was confirmed the new episode:

For now, the song stands as both prophecy and warning: without dialogue, they remain me and you, parallel solitudes orbiting the same pain. There’s still no “we” between them yet. Only when Jaekyung learns to parler — not shout, not order, but truly speak — will me become us, and their love find a voice strong enough to last.

A Chanson of Renewal

Taken together, the three songs form a triptych of metamorphosis:

  • “On vit d’amour” teaches Jaekyung that love is nourishment and a source of happiness, not distraction.
  • “On aime comme on a été aimé” forces both men to face the ghosts of their past and their abandonment/trust issues so that they can love their partner properly.
  • “Parle-moi” charts the path forward — communication as redemption.

They are not merely songs; they are stages of awakening.
From hunger to empathy, from repetition to reinvention, from silence to speech — Aubert’s lyrics sketch the same arc that Jinx now traces.

If Jaekyung once fought to dominate the world, he now fights to pronounce gentleness correctly. And when he finally dares to speak — not as a champion, but as a man who listens — he will fulfill the promise implicit in Aubert’s refrain:

“Avec toi j’irai n’importe où” — With you, I’d go anywhere.

The biggest wish doc Dan has is to go on a trip and walk through the woods with a loved one. The old circle closes; the new begins — not with a punch, but with a word.

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

Jinx: The Missed Party 🥳🎉

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

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

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

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

The Meaning of Parties in Korea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dan’s Missed Parties

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Puppies’ Party

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

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

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

The Illusory Reset

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Real Parties They Missed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

Painter Of The Night: Lazy Hand ✌of Justice ⚔ ?

1. Laziness or not?

When the final episode of the main story was released, many Manhwa-philes were laughing about Yoon Seungho’s work attitude as governor. The latter had left his seat in order to return to his lover’s side. (chapter 131) Hence the police officers found the governor’s seat deserted. (chapter 131) By contrasting the statement from the governor and the panel, the readers could easily catch his lie. He was a lazy governor, preferring to keep his lover company rather than attend to his official duties. On the one hand, it exposes the main lead’s true mind-set. He is not longing for power or glory. To conclude, he has no ambition. This implies that he is not determined to gain attention either. One might add that he selected this region on purpose. No one would willingly go to that place. The norm was that officials would go there, because they were demoted. (episode 129) Thus I deduce that Yoon Seungho made the opposite choice to his father. The latter longed for a high position at the government so that the family’s reputation would become famous and powerful again. (chapter 86) It is because Yoon Chang-Hyeon was thinking of getting the attention or support from noble families. What he truly wanted was to get recognition from people among his own social class. But with such a decision (join the painter’s side), Yoon Seungho seems to have turned the former patriarch’s nightmare into a reality. Yoon Seungho is about to ruin the family. The name “Yoon” is destined to become forgotten, right? However, I believe that this interpretation is not correct. How so? Let me ask you this.

Why is this region regarded as “backwater”? It is because there are no powerful families like in the town, where the Yoons used to live. There are no huge store or doctor either. The new governor is surrounded by “peasants”, commoners. In other words, it is not a place you can earn a lot of money or gain power, especially for an official. This signifies that buying the governor, like Yoon Chang-Hyeon did, won’t happen. (chapter 127) No one has such a wealth! That’s the reason why no official would select such a place. Yes, Jung In-Hun’s words from chapter 6 (chapter 6) (chapter 131) are reflected in the final episode. Peasants are poor und uneducated, and this will not change overnight. Hence they represent ignorance and naivety. This raises the following question. Why did the officers bring these two men? What was their crime? One might reply that it is impossible to figure it out. Nevertheless, I think, Byeonduck left clues in her story. Painter Of The Night is composed of reflections. In each season, certain scenes or elements resurface with slight changes.. Thus I developed the following theory concerning these two commoners.

My hypothesis is that these two men were innocent. In season 1, we have a similar scene: (chapter 37). It is about a crime, treason. In season 4, we know that the plot was true and there was an evidence, the paper with the signatures from lord Yoon and lord Song. Since in season 1 the wrongdoing was true and heavy, I deduce that it is not the case in the final chapter. Because there is an evidence of the crime in the past, I can’t help myself thinking that in the final chapter, there was no evidence. Additionally, I feel the need to expose my other interpretation about this man: (chapter 37) I have always stated that this man couldn’t be a servant, for he was smoking a pipe and we saw a glimpse of his memory. No commoner would be allowed to enter the courtyard, when three noblemen are tortured and interrogated. Moreover, notice that in both scenes (37 and 131), the magistrate is absent. That’s how it dawned on me that this nameless man could have been a former “governor” who lost his position.

But if the two commoners are rather innocent, why did the officers bring them to Yoon Seungho then? My idea is that they imagined that the new governor wanted to make a statement so that he wouldn’t be looked down by the locals. Or even worse. The guards desired to get protection money from them!! Yes, because this region is not well perceived, the guards thought that the governor would act like his predecessor. Since it is a poor region, it signifies that the officials are not well recognized and well paid. (chapter 131) First evidence that the last image is not symbolizing justice, but corruption, is the behavior from the guards. They are caught by surprise, when they arrive in front of the empty stool. Yet, they are not gesticulating or panicked. If a real crime had taken place, they would be looking for their superior. And this observation leads me to this image. (chapter 131) In this picture, we can detect the governor’s office in the background. It is the yellow building with the multicolor decorations. That’s where the empty stool is!! In other words, if they truly needed him, they just had to go to the other side of the wall. Third evidence for this hypothesis was left in season 3: (chapter 94) Here, the officers went to the mansion before visiting him at the gibang. (chapter 97) Back then, it was about the death of a commoner, a servant. If there’s an urgency, they would look for him. The comparison exposes that the “wrongdoing” from the peasants in the final chapter was no huge deal. Yet, many readers already condemned them due to the guards and the protagonist’s behavior. Funny is that the lord was portrayed as a huge liar, but not “the officers”. (chapter 131) But it could have been the reverse. Officers could have abused their authority. Furthermore, let’s not forget that Min indicated that guards could be bribed easily. (chapter 101) His statement displays another aspect: the governor and the guards are not working together. Jihwa would have been sent to jail without being able to talk to the superior, similar to this scene: (chapter 126) The guards’ own interests are not necessarily aligned with the governor’s. And now, take a closer look at this scene: (chapter 127) The official received the patriarch in his office alone. The reason is simple. That way, he wouldn’t have to share the money with others.

But since the guards never went to the lord’s mansion, they must have realized that this man was not like his predecessor. He was not frustrated or demoted. He was indeed not after power or money. They couldn’t rely on his protection either. In fact, they could get blamed for disturbing his privacy. I would even add that since Yoon Seungho comes from a wealthy family, he doesn’t need to rely on bribe at all. In other words, the guards can only come to the conclusion that treating him well can only benefit them. His wealth was already implied with his arrival: (chapter 129). He was not sitting on a horse with a few musicians contrary to Jung In-Hun. He was carried by four men, and other people were announcing his arrival with flags and music. (chapter 111) Moreover, Yoon Seungho had a inauguration banquet organized, where the local inhabitants could join. (chapter 129) There was no social exclusion at all. This stands in such opposition to the lord’s statement in season 1, where he distinguished between nobles and commoners.

But let’s return our attention to the two suspects. What happened to them then? (chapter 131) In my opinion, they were released. Why? For the simple reason that in this place, Yoon Seungho expected no huge duty! Yes, his words were not just exposing a lie, but also the truth. Nothing was supposed to happen. People are peaceful and helpful to each other. (chapter 129) This signifies that the arrest could lead to trouble to the guards too. So was the lord lazy in the end? (chapter 131) Yes and no… By acting that way, he put an end to the abuse of authority in that place!! Thus I deduce that the governor is destined to gain recognition and admiration from the local inhabitants. He is generous (inauguration banquet where anyone could join), humble, loyal (he is not forgetting his lover) (chapter 131), but also well organized! He had planned to join this place a long time ago. The peach trees were planted about 3 years ago. He is no longer making any distinction between nobles and commoners, and that’s how he will get the respect from the peasants. As a conclusion, we should envision that the lord will become famous. Therefore the son didn’t turn the father’s nightmare into a reality. He didn’t contribute to the family’s ruin at all. Yet, there exists a huge divergence. Yoon Seungho is about to make a name on his own. It is not about the Yoons. On the one hand, the father’s dream was illusory and superficial, especially due to the treason (chapter 86). Since Lord Song had been forced to resign, there’s no doubt that the man would resent the Yoons to become successful again. This explicates why lord Song saw Yoon Seungwon as a problem (chapter 107) and tried to tarnish the younger son’s reputation. But let’s return our attention to the patriarch. His vision was based on Confucianism. However, he had a very narrow-minded perception of it.

He expected not only blind obedience from his son, but also absolute devotion for the family. The individual steps aside for the community, and as such for the Yoons. This explicates why the main lead’s relative has no name in episode 6, he is simply reduced to a grandfather. (chapter 7) This shows that the tradition was to “vanish behind the family name, the Yoons”. Under this new light, my avid readers can grasp why the main lead was destined to suffer immensely (chapter 57). His reputation was already outshining his father’s. Secondly, by being stigmatized as a homosexual, he was endangering this principle. His role was to continue the lineage and as such produce a heir.

As you can see, Yoon Seungho is breaking the tradition and even dropping Confucianism, as the latter rejects homosexuality. The main lead embodies other values: Modernity, Individualism, true Love and Humbleness. Yoon Seungho is no longer judging people based on their social status and relationship. This signifies that at the end of the story, the new governor symbolizes true justice. He put an end to corruption and malpractice. He is not influenced by people’s opinions and prejudices either. He is only listening to his heart and conscious. He makes sure to keep all his promises and not to say any empty words. He is a reformed man through and through.

However, we shouldn’t forget that the protagonist did kill many people before. Hence my other interpretation is that Yoon Seungho as a sinner is not “allowed” to become a judge himself. (chapter 131) How could he condemn others, when his hands had been soiled with blood? Thus I deduce that through her work, Byeonduck exposed the corruption of human justice in Joseon. It was impossible to get true and fair justice from anyone, let alone from the authorities. The latter were ruled by greedy and arrogant nobles who used law enforcements for their own needs. That’s why the patriarch (chapter 116) or even Min could commit crimes in the open. They felt safe, for they knew that the authorities belonged to the same social class than them. However, this could only work, as long as the nobles would cover for each other. Should a yanbang denunciate a noble family, it was a different story. Therefore I assume that lord Lee was the one who reported the treason to the authorities (the painting in the bedroom was the evidence). But such a painting couldn’t represent a proof. However, since human justice was corrupted, the gods decided to give justice to the protagonists. That’s how Yoon Seungho became the hand of justice. Everyone involved in the protagonists’ suffering had to pay for their crimes. (chapter 102) That’s the reason why Baek Na-Kyum’s martyrdom was strongly intertwined with the young master’s. Yoon Seungho only received this power through Baek Na-Kyum, the character embodying fairness, sincerity, hard work, home and equity. This was particularly perceptible in this scene: (chapter 27) The lord couldn’t kill anyone randomly.

Yet, considering the scene in the shrine as a trial from the “gods”, can appear weird, for the main lead attacked Min and his friend under the influence of his unconscious past. (chapter 102) However, I consider it as a first step to the lord’s emancipation and life lesson. The latter is indirectly learning not to pay attention to status and power. That’s why the author portrayed him as blind and deaf to their plea and special status. While his behavior in the shrine was rather impulsive and influenced by deeply rooted fears, we should consider lord Song’s execution as a true act of justice. (chapter 123) (chapter 123) The latter had confessed all his crimes: the ones from the past (the lies in order to fool the father) (chapter 123) and the painter’s murder. Funny is that lord Song didn’t feel threatened by the young master at all despite the sword. (chapter 123) Why? It is because he feels, he is the one with the upper hand. First, he has the petition, hence he is already projecting himself in the future (he can get a high position again). Secondly, he thinks, Yoon Seungho is outnumbered. He is surrounded by 4 guards. But more importantly, he views himself superior to the main character due to his age. He is an elder. That’s the reason why he calls “my dear boy”. This implies that he is underestimating the main figure. The latter would never dare to raise his hand against a senior!! However, true justice is also blind to age. (chapter 123) His smile at the end of the episode should be perceived as a reflection from Min’s vanishing. (chapter 103) One might even add that the lord’s action could have been seen as self-defense. However, don’t forget that we are here in Joseon, where a commoner’s life means nothing. Because of this new association, I came to the following deduction: lord Song was the one behind lord Shin’s death. (chapter 103) The latter couldn’t imagine that an elderly yanbang, an official, would raise the sword against another noble. After this new realization, it dawned on me why Yoon Seungho had to get separated from his loved one. (chapter 126) This humiliation made Yoon Seungho realize that he needed to have his power on his own. He learned through the hard way that he was not just a Yoon, but Seungho. Yes, this helped him to differentiate himself from his father and to become stronger mentally. His religion was now his lover, Baek Na-Kyum, whom he needed to protect. But he could only do it, if he had himself a powerful position. But he needed to witness the corruption of the authorities to realize that in Joseon, there exists no justice. (chapter 127) That’s the reason why I deduce that Yoon Seungho is not destined to become a lazy or unfair governor. He learned through the hard way how important it is to give proper justice. (chapter 131) Should these two men know the artist, the latter could encourage his lover to listen to their testimonies and not judge them based on their status.

Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why I don’t perceive the main lead as a lazy governor. Just because he appears as one in this scene (chapter 131), we shouldn’t generalize such a behavior. By paying no attention to power and fame, the protagonist learned what true justice is. Moreover, he realized the true source of happiness: love and simplicity. He made sure to keep all his promises to his loved one. Moreover, the artist is there to remind Yoon Seungho of his duties: (chapter 131) Hence I can’t help myself imagining the couple strolling through the village and listening to the people. Thanks to the artist, Yoon Seungho can only get recognition and acceptance from the autochtones. Besides, Baek Na-Kyum is even giving painting lessons to children, so I doubt that he will drop everything for his lover’s sake. We should envision the opposite behavior from the scholar: (chapter 6): neglect and indifference towards the commoners. And this new observation brings me to my other topic, Jung In-Hun.

2. The real sinners: the hidden hustlers and workhorses

In the first part of this essay, I compared the arrival of the lord in his new jurisdiction with the scholar’s Jung In-Hun.

YoOn SeunghoJung In-Hun

Through this comparison. I had a huge revelation. Manhwaphiles can notice not only the absence of flags and the palaquin, but also the absence of uniforms. The two men in black leading the horse were simply wearing black hanboks and not blue and white costumes. Then it dawned on me that after this cortege on the street, there was no banquet after his success. Hence I deduce that he had not really succeeded at the civil service examination. First, he had not finished top place (chapter 129), therefore he couldn’t select one position contrary to the main lead. This means that when he celebrated his “victory” in episode 111, it was not official. He had no post. I would even add, his name had not been announced on the official board, like we could witness it in this scene. (chapter 121) Here, he is informed that he didn’t pass the exam, for his name was not written there. We can detect this, because people are congratulating each other. His name was left out due to the intervention from lord Song. This means that when Yoon Seungho made him this offer (chapter 7), these were not empty words. He did help the learned sir to pass the civil service exam. But the scholar didn’t succeed like anticipated. The absence of his success explicates why Jung In-Hun received such an offer from lord Song later. (chapter 117) He had no post, he couldn’t choose it, for he was not the best. Thus I deduce that the scholar had just proven his mediocrity. He was just an average man. That’s how it dawned on me that the ceremony in the street was more a simulacre! (chapter 111) Yes, it was fake, for there was no banquet, no sedan chair, no flag and just civilians were surrounding the former teacher. The painting from Baek Na-Kyum can even serve as another evidence that a palanquin and flags are attributes to a ceremony of inauguration. (chapter 44) Only one thing was real: Jung In-Hun was wearing an official uniform, that way no one would doubt his “victory”. Moreover, observe that lord Song only approached the learned sir after the parade. So he was not behind the parade. Besides, keep in mind that the main couple was informed about the parade through the tailor (chapter 111) and not from the official board. His reaction shows not only his displeasure, but also his ignorance. If he had known about the cortege, he would have avoided the place in the first place. Thus I suspect that the tailor had been encouraged to leak this information in front of the couple. Let’s not forget, as a tailor, he was definitely involved in the cortege. It is no coincidence that he informed Yoon Seungho about this “sudden parade”. At the same time, I come to the following deduction: someone must have paid for this spectacle, and it was not Yoon Seungho, for he had been kept in the dark until the last moment. I doubt that the learned sir had the connections and money for this. This new perception corroborates my previous interpretation: the show was sponsored by someone, and it was definitely inspired by the drawing (the hat and the green uniform). (chapter 111). Yet this was just a cheap trick, for the person didn’t send a sedan chair with carriers. Under this new light, I realized why Jung In-Hun ended up stigmatized as a criminal. (chapter 127) It was his karma, for he had deceived the painter with his lies. His success was not his own. (chapter 111) He realized that even after passing the exam, he needed the assistance of people, a sponsor for the spectacle, a noble with connections. Besides, when in season 1, the painter was accused of a crime (ruining the picture), the learned sir did nothing at all. He didn’t protect his student, for he desired to keep his sponsor. When the latter was sick, he neglected him as well. He wouldn’t have sent a doctor for him. Hence in season 4, the sponsor Na-Kyum decides to end his “sponsorship” for the learned sir. We could say that the former teacher is confronted with a similar situation. He ends up being abandoned and framed for a crime, which he didn’t commit. Yet, contrary to his pupil, he is not entirely blameless, for he played a huge role in the death of the nobles lord Song, lord Shin, lord Min and others. Because Baek Na-Kyum embodies hard work, justice, equity, love and honesty, I deduce that his surrogate father embodies the negative notions: laziness, corruption, partiality, hierarchy, ambition and hypocrisy. That’s why his face ended up on the official board, while the painter’s accusation just remained rumors. : (chapter 125) versus (chapter 127) His fate reflects Joseon’ society and authorities, especially when the latter are closer to the capitale.

At the same time, the poster of the scholar exposes that the scholar’s dream had always been to see his name on the official board. (chapter 121) However, the notice was not associated with glory and honor, but with the opposite value. He was an immoral and brutal man. (chapter 127) which was actually reflecting his true personality. We should see the parade in episode 111 as an illusion due to the absence of an official document. And who had paid for this charade? One might think lord Song. However, don’t forget that he approached the man much later. I feel like someone else was involved as well. For me, it was Heena. She was seen with the tailor in season 2, and she had seen the painting from her brother. Finally, she had tried in season 2 and 3 to separate the couple. So she should have repeated the same action, because her resent towards nobles runs deeply, just like her admiration for Jung In-Hun is strong. She knew that her donsaeng was no longer listening to her and his new lover. He was determined to remain by his lover’s side. Thus she didn’t intervene here. (chapter 105) IMO, she had to use another mean in order to achieve her goal: the scholar. Let’s not forget that the artist had confided to her this: (chapter 68) He was simply waiting for the learned sir’s return. And she was present during the cortege. (chapter 111)

Naturally, Jung In-Hun ended up being accused of murder, because not only he had lied, but also he had contributed to the death of lord Min and the others. By giving the spectacles, he was also responsible for their death. Finally, by hurting Baek Na-Kyum and giving him to lord Song (chapter 121), he put the painter in a position which led him to take for the fall for his loved one. It was like framing an innocent. Exactly like in season 3 (chapter 99), Yoon Seungho had been forced to take the sword because of the scholar. And the trigger for the massacre (chapter 124) was always Jung In-Hun. And now, you comprehend why Jung In-Hun became the scapegoat for the last incident. But there’s more to it.

The sexual and physical assault, playing a trick on multiple occasions and the lies are the reasons why the learned sir ended being labelled as a dangerous bandit. (chapter 127) The paper reflects the transformation of the former teacher. He is no longer a honest man. He lost everything: his home, his name and even his life, killed by lord Song’s minions. (chapter 121) His final lesson was to learn that he was exactly like the others: he is just a human despite his education. All humans are equal in front of death. In fact, during his confrontation with lord Song, he came to give up on his integrity. His true face came to the surface: he was just an opportunist, a lazy scholar who relied on fate and his arrogance. (chapter 6) This brings me to my next interpretation. Jung In-Hun learned through the hard way that there is nothing like fate (“right time”), but life is the result of decisions. However, because the scholar always regretted all his past choices, he decided to blame others for his wrong choices. That’s the reason why he ends up to take the whole crime. We should see this paper (chapter 127) as a reflection from the poem in episode 4: The author from this sijo was the poet and official Wang Bang-Yeon who is said to have lived in the time of Joseon’s sixth king Danjong (1441-1457) and his successor king Sejo (1417-1468). As the official of the state tribunal, he followed the young king Danjong into his exile and gave him poison to drink by royal command. Yes, both are symbols of power, corruption, partiality and injustice. Yet, there exists one divergence. While Wang Bang-Yeon left a poem revealing his yearning for the king, the learned sir had no deep attachment towards the artist. Hence it is no wonder why the paper “Wanted” is not connected to affection. It really reflects the emotions and thoughts of Baek Na-Kyum. Due to the last incident, the latter no longer cares for this man.

Jung In-Hun should have realized much sooner that happiness is not a synonym for power and admiration. In reality, he was living quite well in the small village. (chapter 6) He had a roof over his head, and he was surrounded by children, who liked him. (chapter 121) But the problem is that he was consumed by entitlement and greed. How so? It is because of his education. He saw himself superior to others morally and mentally. Hence he didn’t feel the genuine admiration from the children. (chapter 6) He couldn’t enjoy it at all. It is no coincidence that the synonyms for ambitious person are “busy person” and “workhorse”. Yes, this mirrors the expression “laziness”. A true ambitious person is actually proactive and not really relying on sponsors and bribes. So when we see the learned sir on the horse (chapter 111), he is acting like a workhorse. The reality is that he is lazy, as he saw himself destined to achieve greatness. He had the impression that no one had recognized his true value. On the horse, he is just waving his hand and smiling. Later, he confesses this to the artist: (chapter 111) As you can see, his success is not the result of his hard work, but rather of his connections!! Though he didn’t kill lord Song himself, Jung In-Hun had to receive his due punishment for all his lies and sins.

3. The brother’s punishment

This brings me to the next interpretation: Yoon Seungwon and his success. (chapter 107) Though he passed the civil service exam too, he is not able to fulfil his father’s wish either. (chapter 86) They lack support now because of the treason. The families close to the Yoons got executed. But there’s more to it. The youngest son had first betrayed his father by giving the petition to Yoon Seungho, (chapter 118) His intention was to protect not only his brother, but also their family. It was to ensure that lord Song would get blackmailed. That’s how this investigation (chapter 37) got stopped in the end, and the Yoons escaped any punishment. However, by doing so, Yoon Seungwon turned his brother into a blackmailer. Thanks to him, Yoon Seungwon could keep his reputation intact. In fact he never lost his father’s trust. However, in season 4, we can witness a change of heart in the brother. (chapter 118) It is because he knows that with the petition in his brother’s hands, lord Song represents a hindrance to his own career. The latter can only see the Yoons as a threat. Besides, he can only resent the family, if they are able to gain reputation and power, while he can not return to Hanyang and occupy a high position. As you can see, the young master’s success can only irritate lord Song. You can sense a rivalry between Seungwon and lord Song Haseon (chapter 116) in this scene: (chapter 116) The latter has already sensed that the traitor is sitting next to them, thus he raised this question. That’s why I come to the following conclusion that the young master must have realized that he also needed his brother’s assistance. First, if Yoon Seungho returns the petition to the father, the investigation about the traitor in the mansion would be no longer necessary. Secondly, Yoon Seungwon needs to create new connections in Hanyang, but he can only achieve it with his elder brother. Under this new light, you comprehend why Seungwon asked his relative to move on from the past and as such “forgive their father”. (chapter 118) In other words, the young man embodies the notion of “fake forgiveness, fake promise, fake understanding”. He is an opportunist, exactly like the scholar. Yet, there exists a huge divergence between them. His affection for Yoon Seungho was not fake. He is feeling sympathy for his brother. But that’s it. This explains why he didn’t help his brother before. In my eyes, Seungwon represents a different notion of family: bloodline. In my eyes, he embodies traditions and Confucianism. His goal is to turn his father’s dream and life motto into a reality: glory and power for the Yoons. Besides, he must have experienced himself the downfall for the family. And this observation leads to my next interpretation. This means that Yoon Seungwon must have lied to his father by omission as well. (chapter 86) In my opinion, he must have promised to fulfil the patriarch’s wish, but reality made him realize that this was not possible. He couldn’t do it alone. However, I doubt that he confronted the elder with reality.

Let’s not forget that he is only the second son. So he can not inherit the family’s properties. Remember that once the main lead succeeded the civil service exam, he received many marriage proposals. (chapter 128) What about Yoon Seungwon then? Though he succeeded too, there is no mention about engagement or marriage proposals. However, it is clear that this achievement is connected with adulthood and marriage, therefore the elder Song Haseon brought up the topic sex! (chapter 107) It is because Yoon Seungho is the first son who will inherit the title and properties. Yoon Seungwon’s success can only work with his brother’s presence. This means that thanks to the last episode, I could finally find the answer from Byeonduck’s question: What was the reason for Yoon Seungwon’s embarrassment? First, it is because his brother selected the backward place, though he had passed the exam with flying colors. Yoon Seungwon imagined that once his brother had passed the exam, he would get married and establish new connections. That way, Seungwon would be able to get married with a properous and famous family. In other words, Yoon Seungho would turn the father’s dream into a reality: the return of the Yoons’ glory and power. And Seungwon would benefit a lot from this. So in the gibang, his advices might have sounded well meant, (chapter 118), in verity he was also motivated by his own desires. He wanted to get the help from his older brother. This means that the moment the main lead lost his father, Seungwon’s words became true. Yoon Seungho followed his advice: he cut off ties with his past and as such with his family. He was no longer obliged to fulfil the family traditions and the father’s dream. This means that Yoon Seungwon is now on his own. I find it funny that he blamed his brother for his debauchery, but what did he do during this time? Nothing… he waited, until he received pressure from his own father. Moreover, since Yoon Seungwon didn’t help the artist and allowed him to take the fall for the massacre (chapter 126), his karma is not only to end up alone, but also not to receive any support from his brother.

To conclude, Yoon Seungwon tried to convince his brother to change his behavior (chapter 117), because his career was still insecure due to lord Song’s influence. He needed his brother’s help in the end. At the same time, Seungwon had already long internalized the values from his father: Yoons’ honor and reputation were top priorities. In other words, the younger brother stands for social norms and fake righteousness. He desires to maintain his perfect image (loyalty, filial piety),

(chapter 118), hence he left the document at the mansion. He wanted his brother to return the papers on his own so that his past action would remain undetected. Returning the paper was like an admission that he had stolen it in the first place. Yet he still barged in his brother’s house twice. (chapter 117) Here, he exposed the existence of the “petition” to Baek Na-Kyum for one reason. The latter should be used as a way to pressure the main lead to give up on the paper. Notice that this topic was brought up in the gibang: (chapter 119) However, the reality is that Seungwon is not just trying to fulfil his father’s dream, but also he has his own ambition. He wants to make a name on his own. That’s why he confessed this to his brother: (chapter 119) He doesn’t associate himself with the father and his sins. In his eyes, he is blameless. The reality is that he is guilty like his father, for he failed to care for Yoon Seungho. He failed to listen to him and his suffering. He didn’t try to understand him. Like mentioned above, he only sympathized with him and that’s it. Thus he condemned him for his debauchery in the gibang, but this was no longer the case.

When the father confronted his own son with reality (he had no power without him), Yoon Seungwon was once again absent!! The latter is the evidence of his “neglect”. It is important, because when the main lead bowed in front of the patriarch, (chapter 127) (chapter 127) the former only made a promise to his father and not to the brother. With his death, Yoon Seungho is no longer bound by a promise. Since the main lead had been living properly for 3 years and even passed the civil service exam, it is clear that for the brother, Yoon Seungho must have forgotten his past lover. He must have judged his brother based on appearances, just like he was behaving himself. However, this was just a subterfuge. He was waiting for the right time too. He had no change of heart, he had just been copying his brother’s behavior.

To conclude, the main lead abandoned Yoon Seungwon in the end for his loved one. It happened, when he not only rejected the marriage proposals, but also moved to that “poor region”. The sibling received his punishment for his lack of loyalty and his dishonesty. Funny is that the main lead actually followed his brother’s advices: 8chapter 118) He cut off ties with the past and the family!! This means that his words in the lord’s bedchamber came true: (chapter 78) Let’s not forget that at the gibang, Yoon Seungwon never revealed his true intentions towards his brother. The latter always said that his advices were for his best interests. He should become involved in the government. But everything was for the Yoons, or better said, for Yoon Seungwon’s sake. And there exists another reason why the sibling must have been embarrassed: This marriage! To conclude, Yoon Seungwon embodies the opposite values of Baek Na-Kyum and Yoon Seungho: ambition, corruption, forgetfulness, hierarchy/social norms, traditions and reality versus understanding, forgiveness, simplicity, closeness, modern family and happiness. Selfishness versus Selflessness. This explicates why the main lead gave up his success for the artist. However, though it looks like an exile, the reality is that he will gain popularity and admiration among the inhabitants. Why? It is because he is no longer making distinctions between nobles and commoners, he doesn’t see this place as a punishment, but as a heaven and as such he has a better perception of humans in general. In my eyes, he is bringing progress and change in the region. Baek Na-Kyum is already teaching the kids how to draw… so it is only a matter of time, until his lover takes care of the education for these children. This means that these words will become a reality: (chapter 6) He will think of the futures of those children because of his lover.

PS: Tell me, if you are interested in another essay. The question would be: how did lord Yoon die? Was he poisoned or not?

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

Painter Of The Night: “Promise me 👄 you’ll never forget me because … 🥺”

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night

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As the readers can see, the title consists of an unfinished sentence. I did it on purpose for two reasons. First, it would have been too long. Secondly, it would have revealed the central topic of this essay. The name of this composition is in truth a quote from A. A. Milne. The manhwaphiles can see that I would like to analyze the new pictures released from Lezhin inciting me to present new interpretations, theories and predictions.

1. Yoon Seungho and Sleeping beauty

Interesting is that on February 1st the Korean company tweeted this image. The manhwalovers could barely see Yoon Seungho’s face, for he was surrounded by darkness. When I saw it, my first thought was to associate the protagonist to “Sleeping beauty”. He had the same expression than in the bedchamber, when he was sleeping totally relaxed. (chapter 87) He was not tormented by a nightmare, like the painter discovered it in chapter 38: And the darkness reminded me of the forest of thorns and as such of the curse put on the princess. The darkness, the metaphor for the forest of thorns, is the reason why the lord felt trapped and suffocating in his torment. (chapter 86) This contrasts to the princess’ situation, for the latter had no idea about the existence of the prison. It only appeared, when she fell asleep. Moreover, in this picture the obscurity is slowly disappearing announcing that the main lead is about to wake up, he is on the verge of being released from his curse. This signifies that the protagonist is slowly returning to life, allowing him to be able to fight back, the moment he is confronted with reality. He will be able to voice his thoughts and emotions contrary to his past lethargy.

In the fairy tale from Charles Perrault and the brothers Grimm, the princess was put to sleep for 100 years in order to avoid the terrible curse that the wicked witch had placed on her. Originally, she should have died, but thanks to the intervention of one fairy, the curse could be modified and attenuated. Instead of death, it was just “sleep”. My avid readers can already detect the similarities, as the young master’s martyrdom lasted 10 years. Not only the numbers are similar, but the idiom the lord employs to describe his past life is related to sleep: “nightmare”. (chapter 86) This shows that he had problems to distinguish illusion from reality. Why? He had long internalized that nightmare is real world. Hence any pleasant event could only be judged as dream and illusion. This explicates why the lord still feared that the painter’s love confession was a chimera. Besides, I had already pointed out that till the lord’s final suicidal attempt linked to the painter’s love and death, the lord was not truly living. I had compared him either to a dormant volcano or to a zombie. It is relevant, because thanks to the artist, the noble is learning that realism is not just made of betrayal, agony and torment. Happiness can still exist in real world, but in order to achieve happiness, the person has to work! That’s the reason why the American dream combines happiness with zeal and commitment. Therefore the main lead could only end up suffering, for he remained passive till the end of season 3. Therefore, till the end of season 3, he was not able to detect his true enemies and anticipate their moves.

Consequently, both characters, the lord and Sleeping beauty, have another common denominator. They couldn’t determine their own fate due to the intervention of others: the fathers, the “fairies”, the prince/king and the fortunetellers. Yes, sleeping beauty is connected to horoscopists. Actually, the fairy tale “Sleeping beauty” has its origins in the story “Sun, Moon, and Talia” from the Italian author Giambattista Basile. In this narration from the 17th Century, the so-called talented astrologers, tasked by Talia’s father, had predicted her future.

“at length they came to the conclusion that she would incur great danger from a splinter of flax. Her father therefore forbade that any flax, hemp, or any other material of that sort be brought into his house, so that she should escape the predestined danger.” Quoted from https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type0410.html

However, the lord’s attempts were a failure. The young woman couldn’t escape her terrible destiny, for she was left in the dark. Moreover, Talia was raped 😨 during her sleep by a king who was already married. Due to this encounter, the cursed protagonist got pregnant, and gave birth to twins, Sun and Moon. Under this new perspective, the readers realize that this panel is actually announcing the content of season 4. The lord’s rape will come to the surface! Furthermore, my avid readers can notice another parallel with the manhwa. I had already compared the main characters from Painter Of The Night to the moon and the sun. For Yoon Seungho, the painter symbolizes the sun and as such life, for he was slowly bringing him light, warmth (chapter 63), love and happiness in his nightmare. In his darkest moment, he voiced a wish, which exposed the return of hope. This corresponds to the spark of faith, the gradual return of trust in his life. On the other side, Baek Na-Kyum came to view his lover as the moon giving him light and hope during the night again. (chapter 94) I would like to point out that the artist has always associated this satellite to a source of joy and love, like we can detect it here. (chapter 94) Finally, Talia could get liberated from her curse thanks to her children. The splinter of flax got removed from her finger, the moment the babies were sucking on them. This signifies that she got revived thanks to love and life. Moreover, she woke up, the moment the source of her pain was removed. This observation leads me to the following conclusion: the noble can only be completely freed from this darkness, the moment his suffering is removed and as such revealed!! This means that Yoon Seungho will be able to voice his misery and denunciate the crimes he was exposed to. He will be able to identify the persons responsible for his suffering. He might know a name, lord Song, but he has no idea about his true identity. That’s how his burden will be erased. Like mentioned above, the noble’s physical and sexual assault will be brought up to light. That’s the reason why the new image announcing season 4 is so dark. They represent a reflection from Yoon Seungho’s past and torment.

Nonetheless, we should focus on the positive aspects, the gradual vanishing of the blackness. Hence I see this dark picture in a good light. It actually symbolizes peace, hope and faith. This explicates why once I detected the painter’s hair in this image, I imagined that the lord was sleeping with Baek Na-Kyum while holding him in his arms. At the same time, he was smelling his hair, a new version of this scene: (chapter 38) I thought that the couple would share the bed, thus the lord could relax. He felt protected by his lover. In other words, I was already envisioning that this scene is a reflection from chapter 97/98, for the couple had not been able to sleep together. (chapter 97) However, the moment Lezhin published the second panel, I realized that this illustration was referring to a different element in the same scene: separation. Thus I deduce that the embrace during the sleep must have happened before, for the noble’s eye has no dark circle. He looks rested and relaxed.

But let’s return our attention to the comparison between sleeping beauty and our beloved seme. The king was actually cheating on his wife, hence he only stayed in Talia’s home for a certain time. He not only hid the truth from her, but also made an empty promise, he would bring her back to his kingdom!

In the meanwhile the king remembered Talia, and saying that he wanted to go hunting, he returned to the palace, and found her awake, and with two cupids of beauty. He was overjoyed, and he told Talia who he was, and how he had seen her, and what had taken place. When she heard this, their friendship was knitted with tighter bonds, and he remained with her for a few days. After that time he bade her farewell, and promised to return soon, and take her with him to his kingdom. And he went to his realm, but he could not find any rest, and at all hours he had in his mouth the names of Talia, and of Sun and Moon (those were the two children’s names), and when he took his rest, he called either one or other of them.” Quoted from https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type0410.html

And that’s how she became the victim of another plot, the queen got jealous and chose to get rid of Sun and Moon before targeting Talia herself. And this shows that deceptions and conspiracies stand in the center of this fairy tale! At no moment, the main lead heard the truth from her father or her future husband. Thus she couldn’t protect herself correctly, just like she could never anticipate her enemy’s moves. And that’s exactly what happened to Yoon Seungho. He was left in the dark the whole time, while people made empty promises to him. When Kim revealed Yoon Chang-Hyeon’s promise, the butler was implying (chapter 77) that he was doing it for the noble’s best interest. He insinuated that he was protecting him and he should trust him and his father. But this was not true, for he had not revealed the truth to Yoon Seungho, the stolen kiss. (chapter 88) This image was mirroring the past, someone had made the promise to the young master that he would “stay by his side”, implying that he would protect him, but he had failed to keep his words, for he had trusted more in others’ comments. (chapter 88) Because of the tragedies, the main figure got blamed, and as such he got cursed. He was a bird of misfortune, while in reality he was the main victim. In “Sun, Moon and Talia”, the perpetrator and the accomplices, the king and the astrologers, they all got scot-free. I am certain that it was the same in Yoon Seungho’s past. And because there are astrologers in this fairy tale, I am more than ever convinced that a shaman played a huge role in the young master’s downfall.

Yet there exists a huge difference between Painter Of The Night and the Italian story. Contrary to Yoon Seungho, Talia was not conscious, when she got sexually assaulted. She was left in the dark about the true origins of her motherhood. That’s the reason why she didn’t suffer from PTSD or better said from nightmares while asleep. She could never make the connection between the rape and the birth of Sun and Moon. She just saw them, and fell in love with them, as they marked the end of her solitude. The king never described the intimacy as a crime, it was portrayed as a normality. Thus her sleep is not connected to pain and nightmare, rather to a blessing and peace.

2. Memories and farewells

What caught my attention is that the king from “Sun, Moon and Talia” never saw the sex as a crime. Why? From my point of view, it is related to his position. As the ruler, he can do whatever he wants. Yet, the reality is that he is bound by traditions and religion. Yet, he chose to disregard them. Moreover, the most surprising is that he actually forgot his encounter with Talia for a while.

In the meanwhile the king remembered Talia, and saying that he wanted to go hunting, he returned to the palace, and found her awake, and with two cupids of beauty. Quoted from https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type0410.html

It exposes his selfishness and superficiality in the end. He was not truly motivated by love, rather by lust. It took him more than a year before returning to her side. And that’s how he discovered that he had now heirs! This explicates why he made such a promise to the young mother (bringing her to his realm with her kids), though he still remained passive afterwards. He had been able to continue his lineage, thus everything was fine. The fairy tale is actually exposing the king’s flaws and sins. In my eyes, his behavior is reflecting the pedophile’s from Painter Of The Night. Moreover, the ruler vowed faithfulness to Talia, when he announced that he would bring back her and their children to his realm. But he knew that it was not possible, for he still had a wife. This means that the king couldn’t live with Talia together. His time with her was limited, hence he justified his vanishing with “hunting”. Yes… another parallel with the lord’s attitude. (chapter 83) In Painter Of The Night, the hunts were always used to provoke a quarrel and as such a separation, but it never worked. This is important, because this shows that the couple from the Italian story had to separate. It is now time to reveal the whole quote from Milner:

“Promise me you’ll never forget me because if I thought you would, I’d never leave.”

His words indicate the difficulty of departure. In order to overcome the distance, one needs absolute trust in the partner’s love and loyalty. And this situation is actually reflected in the second picture released from Lezhin. Byeonduck is now announcing the separation arc. Since Yoon Seungho is closing his eyes while kissing Baek Na-Kyum’s eye, I come to the interpretation that the lord is trusting blindly his lover. He is not doubting the artist’s affection. There is no ambiguity that he is also embracing his lover. He is actually making here a promise to the painter. This is what Lezhin wrote on Twitter:

시샘달 하루부터 닷새까지. 매일 정오 찾아 오겠노라, 약조하마. From the first day to fifth day, I’ll come to you every day at noon, in the morning (translated by papago).

He will not only return to him, but also he is telling the time of his return!! This means that the lord has now regained the notion of time! Kim, whom I consider as a new version of Chronos, is no longer controlling the main lead, because he is no longer owner of his time. The panel with the text is already displaying the butler’s loss of power. To conclude, this panel represents the positive reflection from this scene: (chapter 97) Back then, the lord was scared, for he still doubted the artist’s love confession. It was too beautiful to be true! However, back then, the artist never doubted his own resolution, thus he gave comfort to his lover by giving him his hand. (chapter 97) (chapter 97) At the end, the lord expressed the following wishes: (chapter 97) In other words, he desired that the painter would follow his requests and as such he should vow him loyalty and trust one more time. The irony is that the lord was actually the one breaking his vow, for he left his lover without saying goodbye. Thus I conclude that in this scene, the characters have switched their position: Yoon Seungho is no longer doubting the artist’s sincerity and loyalty, for he could witness with his own eyes the abduction and the sexual assault. Yet, the painter is in tears, because he is already missing his lover. The tears doesn’t just represent agony, but also longing. What caught my attention is that the drawing is very similar to this image: (chapter 78) This means that the lord is smelling his partner’s hair helping him to remain strong and calm. He is now trying to memorize his lover’s odor so that he can forget this stench, a remain from the past: (chapter 86) This can only help him to defeat his “opponents”. Finally, in different analyses, I had already interpreted that Baek Na-Kyum was embodying memory, whereas the lord stands for truth. The image is actually a reference to recollection and as such honesty. There is no ambiguity that both men are trusting each other, but the painter is crying, for he fears for his lover’s life either. Yoon Seungho is leaving him in order to protect him in my eyes. And this leads me to the following deduction. When the lord is about to leave, Baek Na-Kyum is not left in the dark contrary to episode 97. He knows the whole truth, for the lord must have confessed to him. We could say that he is not leaving without a word (chapter 97). Furthermore, this signifies that the artist doesn’t need any longer to rely on the explanations from others. Thus the artist will keep his promise (chapter 88), though he won’t be by his side physically! They are no longer relying on the butler and his “information”. The trick played at the end of season 3 won’t work on Baek Na-Kyum any longer. He will no longer be swayed. And the promise made by the lord is the reason why the painter will remain loyal. He will stay at the place he is living and wait for his lover’s return. He has no question either.

Many manhwalovers might be unhappy about this evolution, for they love watching the couple living together. But keep in mind that this is totally necessary, because this will push Baek Na-Kyum and Yoon Seungho to create paintings and even poems. This can only incite them to recall their past moments together. A new version of this scene: (chapter 23) (chapter 24) In other words, this announces the return of Yoon Seungho’s passion for painting! And it is the same for the painter. The erotic picture should reflect their love for each other, created based on memories. At the same time, this can only push the noble to demonstrate his talents to others refuting all the negative rumors about him: he is intelligent and possessing his whole mind. Furthermore, this can help him to reminisce his tragic past, what led him to his downfall and suffering. This signifies that he will be able to confront his past and his memories. He will be able to identify the rape, and Kim already exposed the truth to Yoon Seungho, when the former suggested him to ensure the painter’s consent. This shows that Kim was well aware of the sexual abuse, but he chose to never divulge the verity. On the other hand, the pedophile thought in the past that the young master would never forget him due to his position, thus he had no problem to leave Yoon Seungho behind and make no real promise. Departure was never painful for him… hence this quote (“Promise me you’ll never forget me because if I thought you would, I’d never leave.”) will become a reality for the mysterious lord Song, but it is already too late. In fact, the gods punished him by making Yoon Seungho suffering from amnesia. He is not attached by loyalty to the pervert.

Yoon Seungho’s vow with Baek Na-Kyum diverges so much to the monarch’s behavior from “Sun, Moon and Talia”. The latter broke his promise on so many levels. First, he hid the queen’s existence to the protagonist. But this doesn’t end here. He left her behind without making sure that her family was protected. He thought that this secret would guarantee her safety. However, in the story, the king couldn’t help himself revealing the secret and that’s how the queen discovered his betrayal and infidelity. I would like the readers to keep in mind that back then, polygamy was considered as a huge sin in Europe. Note that at the end, the legal wife was the one who brought the “princess” to the kingdom and this for a trial. So where was the king? He was often busy eating! We could say that he didn’t keep his promise out of laziness and even naivety. He allowed that Talia was accused of infidelity and witchcraft, for she had seduced him. He only appeared at the end of the fairy tale. He only voiced regret and put the blame on the queen, while in reality he was the main culprit for this situation.

“The king suddenly appeared, and finding this spectacle, demanded to know what was happening. He asked for his children, and his wife — reproaching him for his treachery — told him that she had had them slaughtered and served to him as meat. When the wretched king heard this, he gave himself up to despair, saying, “Alas! Then I, myself, am the wolf of my own sweet lambs. Alas! And why did these my veins know not the fountains of their own blood? You renegade bitch, what evil deed is this which you have done? Quoted from https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type0410.html

The manhwalovers can detect many similarities with Painter Of The Night. The ruler will never recognize his crimes and even wrong decisions. He neglected Yoon Seungho, but chose to put the blame on others. First, the young master, then the patriarch Yoon Chang-HYeon, the kisaeng, “No-Name” and finally Lee Jihwa. At some point, it will be the butler’s turn. On the other hand, since no one of them was willing to recognize their own fault and involvement, they preferred blaming the victim, for the latter was the only one without a voice. Thus Yoon Seungho is accused of being consumed by lust, he was neither faithful, while in truth, he had no saying from the start. (chapter 57) That’s the reason why I believe that when an incident occurred during that night (chapter 83), the main lead was framed. He got accused of a crime, whereas he had been the true target in reality. There is no ambiguity that the abusers doubted the protagonist’s loyalty and integrity, for they were themselves untrustworthy. They all knew that they had lied and deceived the young master at some point.

And this leads me to the following conclusion. The separation is necessary, since the story is going in circle. Back then, the “pedophile” couldn’t stay by the young master’s side due to his duties. Thus he could only appear, when he was “hunting”. This means, the painter is put in the same situation than his lover in the past. However, the huge difference is that Yoon Seungho came to hate the mysterious lord Song! He never wished his return… However, since he had lost the notion of time, he could only live in fear. That’s how he came to develop insomnia. This explicates why the man trained the protagonist to have a sex marathon, for his time in Jemulpo was limited. Thus I deduce that the pedophile never bid farewell to Yoon Seungho and barely talked to him as well, unless he gave orders. In my eyes, he relied on others: Yoon Chang-Hyeon the kisaeng, Yoon Seungwon and Kim. Yet, deep down, the perpetrator was well aware that he was abusing the young master. But he chose to close an eye, until an incident occurred. That’s the reason why he could never trust the male kisaeng in the end. As a conclusion, season 4 symbolizes the opposite to the past: acceptance, love, faith, closeness, verity and transparence despite the return of darkness. This explicates why the illustration is quite “easy” to interpret despite the blackness.

3. Interpretation of the second panel

It is possible, if you compare the image to others. This picture contrasts so much to this one:

  • prank – seriousness
  • light – dark
  • smile – tears
  • Yoon Seungho made sure that the painter stayed by his side, he even stopped him to retrieve the music box, while now the lord has the opposite intention. He is now the one leaving the painter.
  • The small gap between the main leads indicating that despite their closeness, there still existed a wall between them. This displays that in the new illustration, the distance is no longer existing. Both are fully trusting each other. The lord must have confessed what happened to the painter at the end of season 3, and the painter must have also explained how he came to leave the mansion. In other words, both revealed many secrets concerning the last incident,

That’s the reason why I come to the following deductions. They are biding farewell outside. The painter followed him to the door. However, here the lord is not suicidal at all. In fact, the promise represents the source of strength for Yoon Seungho. The latter has to remain alive in order to protect Baek Na-Kyum, definitely a new version of this scene: (chapter 11) However, there is no ambiguity that the painter can only fear for his lover’s life. The closed eye contradicts the haunted gaze in the shaman’s house. (chapter 102) Despite his closed eyes, he is now able to discern the truth, and it is the same for the painter. Their Third eye is now fully awakened.

But the most important detail is the lord’s kiss on the artist’s eye. The lord had already done it in the past. When he kissed the artist there for the first time, the latter was unconscious. (chapter 21) This gesture symbolizes the epitome of the noble’s affection and the desire to give “happiness”. Then in the bedchamber, he did it in order to console his partner. (chapter 82) With his kiss, he was asking for his forgiveness. This means that the kiss on the eye serves as reassurance and comfort either. Thus we had this scene in the study: (chapter 84) The lord had kissed his lover there, because he was voicing his attachment and desire to redeem himself and to comfort the artist. As you can see, it was a combination of all the previous significations. Yet, the lord had not grasped the “gravity” of his “wrongdoing”. Thus the kiss was associated a certain playfulness in the study. As a conclusion, this image symbolizes the reality. Both are aware of the truth, willing to face it together. The lord is attempting to console his lover, to reassure him that everything will be alright. He is sorry, for he is making him cry again, but this separation is necessary. It was, as if he was seeking Baek Na-Kyum’s forgiveness. He is honest and serious. He is now capable to face reality. But there is more to it. The new image contrasts to this one too:

  • light -dark
  • happiness – sadness
  • sun – moon
  • the hand with a foot – the couple’s faces

This contrast confirms my previous signification: this happy moment in the painter’s childhood had been short-lived, because he had been left in the dark. While he was with the scholar and was happy, something terrible must have happened to someone close to the painter. It reinforced his guilt and abandonment issues. Besides, I had already outlined that this scene must be connected to a departure, a “farewell”. [For more read the essay “Baek Na-Kyum’s foot“] In the past, I had assumed that it was related to Heena, but it could be linked to the gibang in general. Another kisaeng could have vanished suddenly. That’s how I realized why the painter came to love the moon and night! I recognized that many wounds in the painter’s life had occurred during the day: (chapter 94) (chapter 94) (chapter 34) (chapter 11) (chapter 19) He came to feel more safe during the night, until he met Yoon Seungho in season 1. From that moment on, his night life got slowly affected. That’s how he discovered that night could be associated to pain and agony too. Yet, deep down, he still felt safe by the noble’s side. As you can see, the new illustration is reinforcing my theory that this image is not just mirroring a happy moment in the painter’s youth. The latter actually symbolizes illusion and deception, whereas the dark panel oozes reality and honesty.

And all this leads to the final conclusion: the last common denominators between Sleeping beauty and Yoon Seungho are vengeance, greed and jealousy. That’s the reason why Talia came to be arrested and falsely accused. Nonetheless, none of the characters realized this. The cursed princess in the Perrault’s or the Grimms’ version had no idea about the intervention of the witch/fairy who had felt insulted either. This is the reason why the Yoons’ reputation got ruined. The couple can only discover these elements, when someone witnesses such a scene and reports it to the “schemers”, and as such to the “mysterious lord”. The latter can only be upset, for the young man has never acted this way with him.

“Promise me you’ll never forget me because if I thought you would, I’d never leave.”

Yoon Seungho can leave his lover’s side without fearing his sudden vanishing. He is exactly thinking like Milner. However, these words stand in opposition to the butler’s philosophy: (chapter 51). Hence the butler could perceive this promise as a betrayal from Yoon Seungho. The latter is slowly forgetting the valet, he is no longer seeking his assistance and his side.

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

Painter Of The Night: Summary of a love story 💖😍🌹

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night/ 

It would be great if you could make some donations/sponsoring: Ko-fi.com/bebebisous33  That way, you can support me with “coffee” so that I have the energy to keep examining manhwas. Besides, I need to cover up the expenses for this blog.

Though the talk of marriage started in season 2, the author revealed that Yoon Seungho was not thinking about marriage in season 3 yet. It was too early, as Baek Na-Kyum was still viewed as a boy. Moreover, according to social norms, it was impossible, for his lover is a man. Then in front of Yoon Chang-Hyeon, he made fun of his father. (chapter 87) That’s the reason why I consider the love session in chapter 88 more like a relationship between a sponsor and an artist.

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

Painter Of The Night: The riddle of the enigmatic covers🔍🕵️‍♂️ (second version)

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night

It would be great if you could make some donations/sponsoring: Ko-fi.com/bebebisous33  That way, you can support me with “coffee” so that I have the energy to keep examining manhwas. Besides, I need to cover up the expenses for this blog.

The purpose of this essay is not just to interpret the illustrations for each season, but also to anticipate the future illustration of season 4. However, before revealing my new knowledge, it is important to explain how I came to develop these significations. This means that I will present new pieces of the puzzle “Painter Of The Night”. Everything started with this panel. (chapter 9)

1. The slap and hands

The noble with the mole had a red cheek and a bruised lip indicating that he had been slapped. Yet contrary to the painter, he had wounded on his right side. (chapter 1) This means that no one had witnessed the wrongdoing committed on the anonymous lord. However, it is important, because it exposes how a person committing a wrongdoing could escape scolding and punishment, even from the readers. There was no witness! Only an attentive reader could detect this. Hence you have the explanation why Yoon Seungho suffered for so long. There was either no witness or the persons chose to close an eye and remained silent. Since it was the negative reflection from Baek Na-Kyum’s slap and the main lead had used his right hand (chapter 11), I deduced that the culprit was left-handed. That’s how I could identify the culprit, lord Min. The lord was in reality left-handed. We could observe this in chapter 8 , episode 19 , chapter 33 and episode 43, but also in episode 76 , in chapter 96 , in episode 100 and finally in chapter 102 ! Yet, in other occasions like in episode 33 or 43, or 52 , he used his right hand! Thus one might argue that Min was simply ambidextrous. However, I can prove 100% that Black Heart is left-handed!😮 The evidence is the usage of the bow. (chapter 22) This is how a right-handed man shoots an arrow. On the other hand, we never saw Min using the bow. The bird was already wounded by the arrows, when the scene of the second hunt took place. (chapter 41) However, the manhwaphiles can discover the verity thanks to one detail: the bag of arrows. (chapter 22) As you can see, the bag is carried on the right side, but the arrows are almost touching the left shoulder. They need to be on the other side, since the scholar needs his right hand to grab the item. And now compare the position of Min’s bag. It is inclined in the opposite direction, hence the arrows are visible on his right side! (chapter 41) Thus the noble is carrying the bag (chapter 41) differently from the painter too. (chapter 22) Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Byeonduck never showed the Joker’s hunting skills. People would have noticed that he is left-handed immediately. She made sure to hide this important fact, thus within the same chapter Min was often portraying as using both hands. In episode 43, he employed his left hand to pour the alcohol in the glass, but then he switched the hand(chapter 43), when he gave the drink to Lee Jihwa.

This raised the following question. Why is he ambidextrous, though he prefers his left hand? It is because he has been conditioned to use his right hand. In Latin, sinister means left. This explicates why left is associated to sinister, dark and bad omen. Thus there exists this superstition that being left-handed is evil or a bad sign!! Till the end of the 20th Century, people in Europe were encouraged to write with their right hand. And now, if you compare all the scenes, where he employed his left-hand, you will detect that he was acting under the influence of his subconscious. In chapter 8, he was lusting after the painter; explicating why he got mad at his friend. Because of his nagging, Min could no longer ask his host to let the painter join the sex party. Therefore it is no coincidence that he slapped his friend with his left hand. Finally, we never saw his departure from the bedchamber! (chapter 9) Here, he was still present, but even before the end of the sex session, he had already vanished. (chapter 9) Finally, when the noble with the mole visited Lee Jihwa, the latter claimed that he had spent a long time at Yoon Seungho’s. (chapter 9), and his friend never denied it. As you can see, the characters made sure to confuse the readers with the change of the chronology. As you can see, it took me a long time before noticing the bruised face (only during season 3), then to bring up the conclusive evidence that Min was the culprit of the slap. Then in the shaman’s house, he took the dildo with his left hand, because he was angry and frustrated. (chapter 100) With the same hand, he pushed Jihwa (chapter 100) too. This shows that he could barely control himself here. And once he faced the main lead’s sword, he got so scared that he showed Jung In-Hun’s glasses with his left hand again. (chapter 102) Due to stress and his strong emotions, he exposed his true self, but since the readers were more focused on the actions and Min’s punishment, they never paid attention to his hand. This contrasts so much to the way the author portrayed Yoon Seungho. She often zoomed on his hands. (chapter 92) The irony is that in this scene, the main lead employed his left hand too, the positive reflection from the night in the pavilion (chapter 43). While here it was to bring him back to reality, in the pavilion, the Joker had the opposite intention: to lure Lee Jihwa to believe in illusions. (chapter 43).

Why did she confuse the readers then? It was to hide an important information, the culprit is left-handed!! And now it is necessary to examine the lord’s nightmare.

2. The hand in the nightmare

If you read my previous analyses about the visions, you are aware of my following observation. The visions represent not only memories, but also predictions. (chapter 74) They announce the future events, though the information is not given properly. On the other hand, since they are memories either, this signifies that they contain insight about the lord’s tragedy. Thus I noticed that the anonymous perpetrator used his left hand to grab his hanbok!! I deduced that the perpetrator in the past is also left-handed!! Secondly, since this vision can also be seen as the announcement of the painter’s second kidnapping, this is no coincidence that Byeonduck created such panels during the painter’s last torment. (chapter 99) However, in the shaman’s temple, Black Heart grabbed Baek Na-Kyum with his right hand. He was trying to manipulate the artist, he was acting. He was not showing his true self. Yet, the vision was revealing the truth: the future mastermind of the last scheme was in reality left-handed!! It didn’t matter, because at the end, the main lead was able to discern the truth. He sentenced Black Heart, for he believed that he had killed his loved one! That’s how I realized why the author would focus so much on the hands and on the distinction between unconscious and conscious! The hand in Painter Of The Night represents the crucial clue to identify the culprits!!

3. The illustrations and the mystery

Because of these new discoveries, I realized the signification of the covers. In season 1, we had the hands in the illustration. The hands were revealing the crime committed against the main lead. The latter was totally passive in this picture. The hands are touching and unclothing the immobile man. It also shows that Yoon Seungho was at the center of the conspiracy, in the past and in the present! The painting in the background indicates the presence of a hidden painter. Thus Baek Na-Kyum was not drawn in the cover. The painter of the night was in truth someone else, the painter from the past! Nevertheless, the main lead was looking at the readers, indirectly at Baek Na-Kyum, the young painter of the night. This describes the arrival of Baek Na-Kyum in his life. Striking is that the painting in the background was destroyed… indicating that the portrayed relationship was no longer existent. This represents another clue that the lord’s suffering is linked to a previous relationship. Then in season 2, the author revealed Baek Na-Kyum as the painter, who had now become the target of the plot. Yet behind him we see Yoon Seungho’s foot. The latter symbolizes the main lead feared to get close to him, but he wouldn’t leave his side. Moreover, this corresponds to the lord’s impulsive decisions, he let his foot guide him. Thus during the first night of the failed gangrape, he walked towards the study and stopped unconsciously, when he was next to the room. (chapter 53) Due to his strong denial, he was strolling not realizing that his feet were under the influence of his subconscious. And it was the same, when he opened the door with his foot at the Lees’ (chapter 67) Nonetheless, I believe that the author had another reason to draw the foot in the cover. The foot prints are the evidence of the crime, and as such the deceptions and the culprits. (chapter 59) (chapter 60) (chapter 61) The shoes were the clues how to recognize the perpetrators and accomplices. That’s why I compared these feet (chapter 59) with those . (chapter 66) My avid readers are already aware of my theory. For me, we have two kidnappers, and one tried to kill the artist! To conclude, Byeonduck left the clues how to unveil the mystery from the past and the present in the illustrations of each season. The paper in the second cover is a reference to the forged letter (chapter 56), but also to the theft of the painting (chapter 56) and the painter’s break! At the end of season 2, he was no longer painting and in the beginning, he had also stopped due to his heartbreak. Simultaneously, we have the presence of water which serves as a connection to season 1 with the ruined painting and to season 3 with the well and drowning. The dark shades were an allusion to the lord’s darkness and suffering. The latter would come to the surface. However, since the cover only showed the lord’s foot, it exposes that the lord would not divulge his traumatic past. (chapter 78) In season 3, this time the main leads were facing each other, they were recognizing each other: their true self! But this stands in opposition to the deceased people without identity! (chapter 94) We never saw the face of the corpses, as they were either covered (chapter 97) or the manhwaphiles could only view the hand, , the back (chapter 97) or the clothes and shoes (chapter 100)! And since Min had disguised himself as Lee Jihwa, it was clear that the deceased shouldn’t be identified by their clothes, but by their faces. As you can see, season 3 was about the face and identity! This indicates that in the past, someone had been not identified correctly!! Why? It is because the main lead has long repressed this memory. He had forgotten his face out of fear and hatred. The only thing the victim remembers is the BEARD, and old bearded men! (chapter 44) And the nightmare exposed the number of persons involved in his suffering: 4 men!! Here, we have 3 men, and don’t forget the left hand from before. (chapter 74) But if I include the painting, then I come to 6 people: the patriach Yoon Chang-Hyeon and the king. This coincides with the cover from season 1: 3 hands indicates 3 people and we have two lovers in the background. Moreover, we shouldn’t forget the peeper, the person Yoon Seungho was looking at. Hence we have 6 people involved in the conspiracy.

But what caught my attention is that the illustration of season 2 and 3 are showing locations: the painter’s study and the bedchamber. Thus I conclude that Byeonduck was revealing the places where a crime was committed in the past and in the present. In the study, the painter lost his virginity, he was bullied or slapped, while in the past, Lee Jihwa stole Yoon Seungho’s first kiss. So in my opinion, the illustration for season 4 should be the gibang, unless we assume that the cover of season 1 is a reference to the kisaeng house! (chapter 1) Anyway, from my point of view, the cover of season 4 should indicate a location which is connected to the town. Why? It is because now I am suspecting commoners to be involved in the lord’s suffering. I have already expressed my theories about Kim, the guard blacks, Heena and the physician. But there are more suspects! Moreover, observe that the kisaeng house is not only visited by aristocrats, but also by commoners. (chapter 99) That’s the reason why I am anticipating a cover with the gibang. It would be the perfect place to find closure for the couple. It is a place where both suffered. Moreover, I think, belongings should serve as an evidence for the identification of the schemers and accomplices. Remember that we had the glasses as the evidence of a murder in season 3, yet I am sensing that the possession should serve to identify the perpetrators from the past and the present. Since the clothes were used to confuse people in season 3, I am assuming that in season 4, they should help to recognize people, but at the same time, it is totally possible that our main leads decide to employ the same method to fool the schemers and accomplices. And now, we have the cover for season 4. Both protagonists are not only facing each other, but also touching each other. They are no longer hiding their emotions and thoughts. This image represents the opposite to the other seasons. At the same time, the author is again referring to the bedchamber indicating that this place is strongly connected to the protagonists’ suffering. On the other side, since the painter is wearing a silk white shirt, it implies that he is not a commoner. This panel indicates that the main lead was able to the true owner of the study and even bed. However, due to the tears, the beholder can sense that this season will be painful as well. Striking is that in the cover, they were either alone, or they were just looking at each other, hence they didn’t pay attention to their surroundings. Consequently, they couldn’t sense the presence of a plot and the schemers. This indicates that the couple is still not prepared to face new schemes. To sum up, the author selected such covers because she had planned to leave clues there about the mystery! But wait… I had outlined that the person who grabbed the young master Seungho was left-handed, and he played a huge role in the main lead’s downfall and suffering! But who is left-handed in this story?

4. The mysterious left-handed

Naturally, I investigated the matter right away. My first suspect was Kim, but he seems to be right-handed! (chapter 12) (chapter 56). But then I noticed that he carried his master on the left side. (chapter 57) Nevertheless, the person threatening the painter was right-handed. (chapter 66) and since it is for me the butler, he was not the person from the nightmare. That’s the reason why I am excluding him from the suspect list. For me, if he was involved in the past, it is because he lit the candles (chapter 74). Furthermore, don’t forget that in his nightmare, the author exposed the presence of plates with 3 candles (chapter 74) which were also used in the shaman’s house. Finally, in this picture, we have a right-handed person. (chapter 74) So Kim could have been the one silencing him with his hand.

Then I realized that Yoon Chang-Hyeon had also switched his hand. In season 3, he slapped his son with his left hand. (chapter 86) Hence his right cheek was red and he had a wounded lip. (chapter 86) On the other hand, at the doctor’s office, he employed his right-hand to keep his son by his side. (chapter 57). Why is there this change? The turning point was the prank in the bedchamber. (chapter 83) During that scene, the father slapped his son with both hands. First with the right (chapter 83), then with the left! Striking is that the author never showed, when the patriarch employed his left hand. The readers could only hear the sound, and see the result of the beating. Both cheeks were wounded. From my point of view, he was conditioned exactly like Min! He was not allowed to use his left hand, but the angrier he got, the less he could hide his true self: he was left-handed and he was a stupid and brutal father!! (chapter 74) However, note that this switch happened after the sexual abuse had started!! That’s the reason why I conclude that he is not the man from the nightmare. For me, the father is symbolized by the painting, just like the pedophile! So where is the left-handed person? So far, the fake servant smoked with his right hand. (chapter 37) On the other hand, I am doubting that Byeonduck will introduce many new characters in season 4. That’s the reason why I believe that the man with the pipe is the real schemer, as the pipe was in the annex. Since Min grabbed Baek Na-Kyum in the shaman’s house, I am more inclined to think that the perpetrator grabbing the young master Seungho by the collar was just an accomplice and not the mastermind. In other words, he was the helping hand.

And there are two persons left that fit the profile of a left-handed old bearded man. The physician!! 😮Notice that he placed his box on the left side and this twice!! (chapter 57) (Chapter 74) I don’t believe in hazard. Besides, the lord had his nightmare during the same chapter. This means that he could have leaked this information about Yoon Seungho to an outsider, like he did with the painter. As the manhwalovers can grasp, the physician is more suspicious than before.

As for the second person, it is none other than the calligrapher!! (chapter 92) Besides, observe that the angry man put the brush on the left side. (chapter 92) The man is left-handed! And what did Yoon Seungho do? (chapter 92) He grabbed him by the collar! Exactly like in the dream!! (chapter 74) Thus I had this sudden idea: the calligrapher could have been Yoon Seungho’s teacher!! The latter became jealous of the young master due to his talent and notoriety. Another possibility is that he was commissioned by the elder master Yoon to write a talisman, a spring poetry, as we have these writings on the door (chapter 44) or patio of his mansion, similar to Heena’s. And since the young main lead suffered so much, it is normal that he doesn’t have such believes. IT is also possible that the young master Seungho played a prank which made the man angry and humiliated. As you can see, I come to the conclusion that jealousy and resent were the reasons why he got involved in the first place. Moreover, we shouldn’t forget that the calligrapher is linked to the kisaengs! He even recognized Baek Na-Kyum, as he called him a peasant. (chapter 92) Yet, he was either perceived as servant, a noblewoman or as a sir so far! He was never recognized as a peasant. Since he could identify the artist, it is also possible that he was also able to identify Yoon Seungho. But he thought that he was not well educated after living as a male kisaeng for so long. From my point of view, the man could have decided to get revenge on Yoon Seungho and participated in his abduction and gangrape!! Thus his karma was to lose his home! (chapter 91) The fact that Yoon Seungho grabbed him the same way than in the nightmare is not random. It was, as if he was getting justice. Honestly, I am more and more suspecting that in the past, Yoon Seungho got raped by commoners! Naturally, I have not changed my mind that the king was behind this plot: to get revenge on the Yoons! Who benefitted the most from the crime? Definitely the king, as he was able to ruin their influence.

Finally, I would like to remind the readers that according to me, the tailor is involved in the lord’s past suffering. However, according to me, there exist two tailors. While the other called the main lead “lord Yoon Seungho” (chapter 39), the other only recognizes him as master Yoon. (chapter 64) This means that the latter knows about the existence of elder master Yoon. Like mentioned above, the calligrapher, the physician, the tailor, the fake servant and the “shaman” from chapter 29 have all one thing in common: the beard!!

5. The other accomplices: the hanbok and the beards

Byeonduck left pieces of the puzzle in the covers in order to unveil the truth about the past and the present. Hence the moment the illustration is released, try to examine it attentively. It definitely gives clues about the evolution of the story, and the evidences concerning the perpetrators and helping hands. My recent discoveries led me to develop the following theory: the involvement of merchants. This man (chapter 83) disguised himself and hide his true identity behind “lord Song”. But is he the king or someone else? He was definitely a pedophile, but since we can’t see his face, it is not certain that it was the king. (chapter 83) Striking is that he is not “smoking here”, yet I had outlined that one abuser was a heavy smoker due to Yoon Seungho’s behavior. (chapter 83) On the other hand, I discovered that the man with the green hanbok was smoking! And why doesn’t the patriarch suspect the king behind the plot? It is because he was never officially banished or sent to exile. Thus he explains his desertion from the mansion as an absence. (chapter 86) Let’s not forget that in season 3, clothes were used to deceive Yoon Seungho, and the authorities played along. Besides, as the painter had become the love interest of Yoon Seungho and Black Heart, it is very likely that in the past, the victim was exposed to two different abusers, but they all hid behind the name: lord Song. Note that during this feast, one man had a moustache beard which is in Painter Of The Night the sign that he is no yanbang, not even chungin, the upper-middle class. He could be a rich merchant. Just because they are all wearing hanboks (chapter 83) (chapter 87), this doesn’t mean that these men belong to the aristocracy. Furthermore, Kim never said “nobles”, he just said “visitors”!! Finally, I would like to point out that since Yoon Seungho lived secluded for 10 years, I doubt that he had the means and the knowledge to be involved in the trade: (chapter 22) This theory of the participation of a merchant got even reinforced, when I made the following discovery. The wooden boxes in season 1 were present at the tailor‘s shop!! (chapter 39) Thus I am deducing that the barn in season 2 (chapter 51) could have belonged to the tailor or the owner of this shop. And note the couple was in the same position than with the kisaeng with No-Name in episode 51! (chapter 51) This was the negative reflection from episode 39: no penetration versus penetration, no interruption versus interruption, no rumor versus rumor etc. And this contrast clearly displays that the tailor shop is involved in Yoon Seungho’s suffering. And the best evidence for this is the nightmare. The main lead’s clothes had a design. (chapter 74) and the readers never saw the protagonist wearing it so far!! So where is this special hanbok? The latter is the evidence of the tailor’s involvement, as he had to create it. To conclude, there is a strong connection between the gibang, the tailor and the trade. And now, you comprehend why I am more than ever suspecting commoners’ complicity in the main lead’s suffering.

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

Painter Of The Night: Painful departures 👋🩸⚰️

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night/ 

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Announcement: The essay “Powerful fellatios” was updated.

Before elaborating my new discoveries, I would like to repeat the following principles on which the story was developed:

  1. There is always a reflection within the same chapter.
  2. The next episode is mirroring the previous one, naturally with slight changes.
  3. Each season is reflected in the previous and the future one.
  4. The author is working on positive and negative reflections.
  5. Thus the story is going in circle.
  6. Thus the lord’s destiny is reflected in the painter’s.

Like explained before, the reason for this huge amount of reflections is that her story is constructed like a kaleidoscope. Therefore it is not surprising that I keep contrasting many images and chapters with each other. That way, we can get new insight about the past. At the same time, the author can not expose the whole truth for two reasons. We don’t have a narrator, and since it is a manhwa, the narration is really limited. Moreover, Yoon Seungho might confess to Baek Na-Kyum about his traumatic past, yet his testimony will never mirror the entire verity. Why? It is because as a victim, he didn’t know everything. He had no idea what people would think and do behind his back. Since he had no idea about a conspiracy in season 1, 2 and 3, I conclude that it was the same in the past!! Hence it is up to the readers to fill the blanks and as such to solve the puzzle.

Striking is that after the end of season 2, I had examined the topic “farewells” [For more read essay 195 “Farewell” ] which sounds quite similar to the title of this analysis. One might fear that I could repeat myself. However, this is just a deception, for I am focusing now on season 3. With the new panels, I could get new clues about the painter’s departure from the gibang. So far, I had stated this: Heena did it for the painter’s sake. It was to protect him, (chapter 46) This was actually implied by Heena’s words and gestures, yet I had already questioned this, for Heena appeared as dishonest. Now, it is time to expose my new interpretation concerning Baek Na-Kyum’s eviction from home.

1. Exits in episode 94

What caught my attention is that chapter 94’s main topic was departure. How did I come to this perception? First, we have the well which reminded Yoon Seungho of the scholar and his poem. The latter had given the poetry referring to exit to the painter as a farewell gift. Why was the lord thinking of Jung In-Hun in that moment? It is because he had read the letters from Heena and as such her accusation against him. He had killed the learned sir, hence in the lord’s mind, it was only a matter of time until Baek Na-Kyum would bring up the subject and decide to leave him. The letters are not destroyed, for he asked this to the painter: (chapter 94) Yoon Seungho had two reasons to expect such an outcome. First, it was related to Yoon Seungho’s offer to Baek Na-Kyum. (chapter 44) Secondly, Baek Na-Kyum had already showed to the main lead that he could leave him at any moment. (chapter 85) Finally, what mattered to the artist the most was the lord’s love and trust. (chapter 85) He believed in his affection while thinking that Yoon Seungho would keep his promises. But if there was a slight doubt about him, in Yoon Seungho’s mind, the painter would choose his noona over him, like he had experienced it in the study. To sum up, in the gibang, the lord was fearing the artist’s departure. Moreover, when the painter confessed his love to the noble, he was also leaving the scholar’s side. His path was no longer following the teacher’s. Thus when he said this (chapter 94), he was actually biding farewell to Jung In-Hun. He was moving on. Finally, if you include these panels from chapter 94, , the painterofthenight-stans can notice that people are about to leave. In the first image, the young artist is chased away by the comments from the other children. Then the painter is standing in front of his noona Heena, he has just left the side of the sitting nobles. He is definitely crying, he wished to be embraced and taken away by Heena from the room. As for the last picture, we see two “nobles” leaving the painter behind. They are the ones leaving the gibang, for the exit is close. The painter ‘s face had been beaten, hence we could view drops of blood on the ground and the white head-band.

Interesting is that these three departures were all painful. First, Baek Na-Kyum’s heart got broken, for he was excluded by the children forcing him to live in the gibang. After that, he lived in seclusion. The children used their words and gestures to make him leave. Simultaneously, this panel indicates that the painter had left the kisaeng house and strolled through the streets. Then in the second image, the nobles were more aggressive, for they had removed the painter’s pants. As the manhwalovers can detect, the violence was increasing, thus when the painter’s visage was wounded, it represents the high peak of violence against the painter. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the author chose not to follow the chronology. In this panel, the painter had still a braid (chapter 94) (chapter 94), but not here. This means that the rejection from the “peasants” happened afterwards. And now, if I include Jung In-Hun’s departure, the latter is supposed to have been killed, it becomes palpable that in Painter Of The Night, departure is strongly associated to blood, desertion, imprisonment and death. But this doesn’t end here.

2. The painter’s departure

I couldn’t help myself connecting this scene (chapter 94) with this physical assault in front of the learned sir’s home: (chapter 99) In these two scenes, the painter got so hurt that he was bleeding. In addition, the painter’s hair was free. In front of Jung In-Hun’s house, the perpetrators had removed his headgear, while in the gibang, the white head-band was on the ground. To conclude, the painter’s short hair was visible. Don’t forget that the short hair was indicating that the artist was an orphan. So by removing the headgear for noblewomen, Min and the black guards made sure to expose that the victim was just a low-born without any family. But let’s return to our comparison. Min was wearing a similar hanbok than the noble in the gibang. Furthermore, the black guard resembles a lot to the aristocrat with the hunting outfit in the kisaeng house house. The painter’s white headband is now serving as a cover for masking the black guards’ identity. As you can see, due to these similarities, I came to the conclusion that this scene (chapter 94) was the reason why Baek Na-Kyum left the gibang. Why do I think so? First, it is related to Heena’s absence.

3. Heena’s role

Where is she? Why didn’t she come and protect her brother? The perfect excuse would be that she was busy with a client. And this leads me to the following observation. Note that in this scene, Heena was standing in front of the door. (chapter 94) She was actually the one hindering the painter to run away. She didn’t act like Jung In-Hun at all (chapter 68). She let her brother hear the laughs from the younger masters. It looks like she is consoling her brother, yet she is not, for she is not embracing him. She is grabbing him by the shirt which reminded me of this gesture: (chapter 97) Hence I deduce that this scene in the gibang (chapter 97) is a reflection of the incident in the painter’s youth. (chapter 94)

Chapter 94 negative reflectionChapter 97 positive reflection
Painter in tears  Painter smiling, even when he gets scared
Heena brings a table with food.Baek Na-Kyum returned to the room in order to fetch the “paper”.
Heena says nothing and feels sorry for the painter –She talks the whole time
She remains next to the door.She approaches her brother in the room.
She grabs him by the shirtShe grabs him by the shirt
BNK wants to be huggedHeena wants to hug her brother, but she is rejected
BAek Na-Kyum believes herBaek Na-Kyum reproaches her to tell stories
Heena doesn’t weepShe is now in tears
Heena definitely portrayed the nobles as ruthless and filthy.Now, she found a nobleman who would help them
Heena stands in front of the entrance.Heena stands in the way to the door.

As you can see, these two scenes share so many parallels that I came to the conclusion that in both cases Heena was stopping her brother from leaving the room. (chapter 94) The table and the kisaeng were in his way. In other words, in this scene, she didn’t let the painter leave the room. However, the huge difference is that contrary to episode 97, she was acting under the influence of her unconscious/subconscious. This means that she was not doing it on purpose contrary to her confrontation with her brother in the annex. Here, she desired that her brother wouldn’t return to Yoon Seungho’s mansion. He should remain by her side and follow her. In chapter 94, she could have acted like the scholar (chapter 68) But she did not. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that she had bad intentions here. However, her passivity caught my attention. She was immobile and silent. (chapter 94) Hence Byeonduck drew her without mouth. Her behavior contrasts so much to this scene: (chapter 65). Thus she gave more the impression of being righteous and truly concerned.

Moreover, another detail caught my attention: (chapter 94) The presence of the moustache beard!! Three of them have one!! (chapter 94) The painterofthenight-lovers will certainly recall Yoon Seungho’s words: (chapter 44) However, there exists a difference between the painter and the lord’s association for beards in my opinion. The latter suffered due to old men wearing a long moustache beard with whiskers. (chapter 82) (chapter 83) (chapter 37)

Noblemen’s grooming styles for facial hair found in thirty portraits handed down from the Joseon Dynasty are as follows. Facial hair is classified into three types: beards, moustaches and whiskers according to its location. Twenty one portraits show that the subjects groomed all three types of facial hair.” Quoted from http://www.rjcc.or.kr/journal/article.php?code=7079

But there exists another style of moustache beard.

The remaining nine scholars also grew and trimmed their moustaches in the 八shape neatly, and had beards in an inverted triangle long enough to reach the lower part of the neck. However they do not have whiskers in their portraits. Quoted from http://www.rjcc.or.kr/journal/article.php?code=7079

Striking is that Kim is also wearing such a moustache beard. (chapter 87) However, so far in the story, this type of moustache beard was only present among commoners and not nobles!! (chapter 39) (chapter 45) (chapter 45) (chapter 64) (chapter 78) Hence I started suspecting if these two persons were truly nobles in the end. (chapter 94) Just because they are wearing clothes destined to aristocrats, this doesn’t mean that they are truly lords. And don’t forget that when the painter was attacked in front of the learned sir’s home, many people were disguised. The kisaeng Heena was dressed like a commoner’s wife (chapter 99), Min was cosplaying Lee Jihwa, the guards were covering their mouths, Baek Na-Kyum had been wearing a expensive scarf and a headgear for noblewomen, (chapter 99) so that he had been mistaken for a young master. (chapter 91). Therefore I came to the conclusion that the painter has repressed the link between the moustache beard and nobles. Since the noona kept saying nobles, what made Baek Na-Kyum shudder in the past were nobles. But the connection between the beard and nobility is existent in the painter’s subconscious. This explicates why Baek Na-Kyum would show such a respect to valet Kim, he would call him sir and listen to him. (chapter 52) However, the more time passed on, the more the butler kept pointing out that he was just a servant, so that this moustache beard is losing its meaning, the symbol for power and nobility. At the same time, the painter met more and more people with beards, like for example the tailor (chapter 74), the physician (chapter 74), Bongyong (chapter 78) and finally Yoon Chang-Hyeon (chapter 87). However, note that when the patriarch left, the main character only paid attention to his gaze and not his beard. (chapter 87) This explicates why Baek Na-Kyum is not mentioning the beard concerning nobility, while Yoon Seungho never made the connection between the old bearded men and Kim, though the latter has now a moustache beard! To conclude, I don’t think that this physical assault (chapter 94) was really done by nobles. Moreover, we shouldn’t forget that the gibang is not only visited by aristocrats, but also by commoners (rich merchants, small shop owners, workers). (chapter 99). That’s the reason why I came to the following theory. These persons wounded the painter on purpose and in my eyes, it was suggested by Heena. (chapter 94) She couldn’t ask nobles to commit such a crime due to her social status, hence she asked the assistance of low-borns. Striking is that the painter was mostly hurt by commoners in the different seasons: The servants (chapter 13), the maid (though not intended) (chapter 36, here the painter is drugged against his will), Deok-Jae , Nameless, (chapter 60), Kim (chapter 66) [As you already know, for me Kim was the one who tried to kill the painter during the abduction], Bongyong (chapter 78), the calligrapher with his insults (chapter 91), the maids with their reproaches (chapter 91) (chapter 98) and the black guards from Min. (chapter 99) The commoners are often the helping hands of the nobles. But as you know, Heena has been denying their existence and involvement. Why? It is because she has been a helping hand herself. Under this new approach, you comprehend why I came to the deduction that Heena had utilized people to make her brother desert the kisaeng house. This is no coincidence that in chapter 97, the painter was accompanied by 2 servants (chapter 97), two commoners who neglected him totally. By the way, the one with the green shirt and white jacket vanished later. He was not seen in the mansion. Anyway, the two domestics wouldn’t even follow the lord’s orders properly, for they never stayed by the painter’s side. And since it is a reflection from chapter 94, I deduce that the two “nobles” acted the opposite. They played their role perfectly to the point that the painter was terribly wounded and he never doubted their identities. They were just nobles! And that’s the point. That way, no person was truly blamed for the incident.

Hence Heena didn’t suggest the painter’s exit right after this incident, she had to wait for his recovery, and naturally she had to blame someone: the nobles!! She played with his prejudices in the end. The first evidence for this theory is that during that fateful night, Baek Na-Kyum didn’t go straight to the teacher’s home, for he first returned to Yoon Seungho’s mansion. This time, she couldn’t convince her brother to follow her suggestion, an indication that the indoctrination was no longer effective. This stands in opposition to chapter 94, where the painter’s self-esteem was ruined. Thus he chose to listen to her advice without resisting. This explicates why during their first farewell, the readers were able to see the painter’s face and the white headband on his head!! (chapter 46) This was the “positive” reflection of this scene: (chapter 94) No matter what… Baek Na-Kyum should leave the kisaeng house. What caught my attention is that she only presented her argument, the moment the painter was about to leave her. Thus he recalled her words when he was on his way to the gibang (chapter 46) and as such to the scholar’s home. (chapter 46) Moreover, I am now doubting that Baek Na-Kyum and Heena were seen in front of the gibang. (chapter 46) Why? It is because of the building and the absence of the cheongsachorong (the blue and red lantern). First, the gibang is surrounded by a wall made of stones! (chapter 19) (chapter 69) (chapter 93) Secondly, there is no window next to the entrance of the building contrary to the image from chapter 46. Consequently, I deduce that Heena had left the gibang with her brother saying that she was meeting a client, and just before entering the mansion, she sent away her brother. This explicates why he had only taken his tools and nothing more. Remember what the noonas said in chapter 93: (chapter 93) She implied that the noona was not present in the kisaeng house, while in reality she was punished, trapped in a storage room. And now, you comprehend why Heena said this to her brother: (chapter 46) He couldn’t bid farewell to his noonas, for he had already left the kisaeng house. But he had no idea that he would be sent away during that day. The other evidence for this theory is that the painter went to his lover’s home before visiting the scholar’s house. (chapter 97-98) Furthermore, the night before, the noona had implied that Heena had left the gibang. Thus I conclude that Baek Na-Kyum was truly abandoned by Heena in the end, but he got deceived by her gentle words and gestures. The physical abuse in the kisaeng house and her kind gestures had played a huge role in this. He could no longer be protected there. She justified this that it was for the painter’s best interests. She knew what the artist truly desired. However, this was not true, as she had manipulated him and she had never asked him. Under this new light, you comprehend how Heena could deceive her colleagues so easily with this statement: (chapter 93) He had suddenly vanished without voicing such a desire before. And note that in chapter 97, she was already acting on Min’s orders, a sign that in the past, it was different. She had done it on her own accord. In the annex, the kisaeng was definitely scared, hence she was trembling. (chapter 97) I have always said that the painter’s departure from the kisaeng house (chapter 1-46) was related to a crime, but the noona was not aware of this, or deep down she knew, but she chose to close an eye to this. Why do I think that this is related to murder? Simply, because in front of the scholar’s house, she faked her death and the painter had been wounded too. (chapter 99) Finally, we have this execution in chapter 1. During that night, Baek Na-Kyum should have died. But let’s return to episode 97. Here, she was resenting her brother. (chapter 97) She was totally unhappy which stands in opposition to chapter 46 in my eyes. Hence she was looking for new tissues at the tailor’s. (chapter 64) This would explain why she never looked for her brother afterwards. This shows that unconsciously, the painter had judged her betrayal and abandonment correctly, but he had been deceived by her argumentation and attitude. In other words, he was in denial.

4. The purpose of these reflections

I believe that these incidents are created to expose the transformation and evolution of characters. Heena felt powerless and scared, when she was young. Due to her anxieties (according to me, genophobia) she made wrong decisions, thus she let the protagonists suffer. She was definitely a victim due to her social status as kisaeng, for it was not her choice to become a kisaeng. Nonetheless, the problem is that in chapter 94, she utilized the painter as her shield. The real victim in this scene is not Heena, but Baek Na-Kyum. She had brought the table and let the painter approach the nobles. Why did they want to confirm, if he was a girl or a boy? (chapter 94) The clothes were indicating that he was a boy!! Moreover, why did she let him approach these men? It was during the night, for he was wearing his night clothes. So he should have slept. In my opinion, she utilized the painter in order to explain why she couldn’t perform her duties as a kisaeng. She was constantly followed by the painter. Simultaneously, she could utilize this incident to portray herself as a victim of violent and filthy nobles. She could lie to her brother, and explain that when he was not with her, she had to bear such an attitude. He would believe her, for he had experienced it once. She was clearly avoiding her fate as a kisaeng. Furthermore, she could explain why she was not working or sharing her bed with the other noonas. (chapter 87) So in this scene, (chapter 68), Baek Na-Kyum had the impression that she was telling the truth. It looked like she was a victim of violence, while in reality, Yoon Seungho was the real victim. He got dragged and tied up! Today, I just discovered another evidence for this interpretation! (chapter 68) The blue skirt is revealing her presence. She is next to the door and observe that there is a table to her right!! Exactly like in chapter 94! But it was much bigger. This means that she left the room. And since the table was not present in this image, (chapter 86), I deduce that Heena explained her desertion by taking away the table so that she had the perfect excuse to leave this room and abandon Yoon Seungho. It was not her business. But if she left the room during that night, she could have followed her brother. But she never did it. She let her brother imagine that she was suffering. (chapter 70) Terrible, right? However, since the painter had been deceived by impressions, he came to believe her version and lies. But there is more to it. Because the artist was so young, he never realized that he could have detected her manipulations!! How? She should have become a wreck… have bruises on her body, but she never had any.

This new interpretation is truly important, because it made me realize why Heena got punished in the storage room. 😮 (chapter 93) Since she excused her vanishing by saying that she had to remove the dishes and as such was busy in the kitchen, it is normal that she was imprisoned next to the kitchen 10 years later!! Here, we can recognize the kitchen by the door made of wooden planks: (chapter 95) But there exist two other evidences why Heena is associated to the kitchen. Remember the painter’s thoughts in the inn: (chapter 75) They let see that he was thinking of Heena, though he spoke of his noonas. However, the presence of religion was introduced with food. (chapter 75) This truly exposes that Heena preferred working in the kitchen. That way, she could avoid sex with the clients. Another interesting aspect is that when she was sitting at the table with nobles, she was not talking to her neighbors. . (chapter 93) She was not even serving the noble next to her. (chapter 93) Once again, she was passive and immobile. Since she was doing nothing, she could hear her brother’s name and turn her head. (chapter 93) Under this new light, it becomes understandable why Baek Na-Kyum didn’t detect her presence in the patio. It was not her usual place. At the same time, the readers can grasp why the artist didn’t mind eating in the kitchen with the maids and felt comfortable around the head-maid. (chapter 46) This was reflecting his past relationship with Heena. And now, you comprehend why Heena never paid attention to the painter’s education. She had not the time and the motivation to do so. She was busy in the kitchen during the evening and night, yet keep in mind that the painter was her excuse to keep her distance from the nobles in the beginning. This explicates why Yoon Seungho crashed the table in the gibang: (chapter 99) This was Heena’s karma. She could no longer use the table as an excuse to betray and abandon a young boy. Moreover, we could see this gesture as a compensation for the past incident. (chapter 68) Finally, the lord could voice his frustration and his resent for the kisaeng who had “deceived” him. Now, I am wondering if during that night, the rice had not been spoiled too. The most important aspect is that she had definitely seen the abduction and sequestration, yet she did nothing. But if the food was spoiled, then I can understand why she acted that way. She didn’t want to be punished. But if this theory is correct, , it depends on if she was involved in this incident or not. Yet I don’t believe that she was responsible here. She preferred Yoon Seungho taking the fall. So she took the table with her colleague and left the room. (chapter 68) How do I come to this idea? It is because there is a progression in the responsibility. But we will see, if the lord’s anger was caused by spoiled rice. One thing is sure: the butler is recreating events from the past. And shortly after the painter’s departure from his noona situated in chapter 46, (chapter 46), we had this incident: . (chapter 47). That’s the reason why I am connecting the kisaeng to the food. And I had already demonstrated that there exists a link between the gibang and the lord’s kitchen.

That’s how I made a new connection between Heena and Nameless. The latter is a butcher, and he was seen in the kitchen. (chapter 60) And now, we know for sure that the chicken blood was used to stage the crime scene in the scholar’s house. (chapter 101) For me, Nameless was behind this prank. It sounded so harmless, but the reality is totally different. Consequently, Heena can become the prime suspect in the scholar’s disappearance. Remember that according to me, Yoon Seung-Won went to the gibang after leaving his brother’s mansion and discovered that he had been deceived. For me, there is no ambiguity that Yoon Seung-Won and lord Song are behind the learned sir’s murder, for both had a huge interest for his vanishing. But in my eyes, Heena is the link between the nobles, lord Song and No-Name, because the kisaeng house is frequented by all kind of people. I have already mentioned that the learned sir must have gone to the kisaeng house after meeting the fake servant. (chapter 38) This encounter took place during the day, however he returned during the night. So he must have spent some time elsewhere. Because of the connection between Heena and the kitchen, I think, she will have to take the fall for No-Name’s crimes. Under this new light, I comprehend why Byeonduck declared that she had no longer planned Mumyeong and Lee Jihwa. Both were already receiving their punishment, when they fled. But since I detected a connection between Heena and No-Name, I am quite sure that she is also responsible for the downfall of No-Name. And don’t forget that during the incident in the bedchamber, we had a party!! (chapter 83) Then I had already demonstrated that the kisaeng had already visited the mansion, for she knew where the painter’s room was. (chapter 65) So she could have worked in the kitchen… helping the other maids. To conclude, the kisaeng had committed the following wrongdoings. She had manipulated her brother with a mixture of belief and prejudices to cover up her own fears and wrongdoings. While in chapter 94, she stopped the painter from leaving the room unconsciously, it was no longer the case with Yoon Seungho, as she was standing in front of the door. (chapter 68) She contributed to his abduction and sequestration. But this doesn’t end here. She was also a witness of his sexual abuse, but she chose to close an eye. Thus she said this to the painter: (chapter 68) For her, sex had become a synonym for torture and death. Her wrong choices reinforced her fears about sex in my eyes. Every time, she decided not to face the truth, she preferred being blind. Thus the goddess chose to punish her by letting her deceived by impressions. (chapter 88) (chapter 66) Here, she couldn’t help her brother, though the “sequestration” was nothing compared to what Yoon Seungho had experienced at such a young age. She had deceived her brother in the past, and now she was put in the same position. She was the fool one. In addition, she was forced to be confronted with reality, because she needed to admit her wrongdoings. Since she was behind this assault (chapter 94), she had to see her brother wounded, the consequences of her lies and manipulations. (chapter 99) Yet, each time she refused to become responsible. She always had a perfect excuse: the nobles were to blame for this, the lord had acted like a spoiled child etc…. In front of the scholar’s house, it was because her brother had not listened to her. Besides, Min was also accountable for this. (chapter 99) She never pointed her finger to the black guards, for she knew that they could reply that she was responsible for her brother’s resistance. She had not been able to convince him to follow Min. She preferred blaming innocent people (Baek Na-Kyum, Yoon Seungho and “Jihwa”) than recognizing her own guilt and her bad choices. Since in the past, she stood in front of her door, her punishment was to remain outside. She could never enter the room (chapter 66). (chapter 96) She even got sequestered herself. (chapter 93), therefore it is not surprising that at the end, she was determined to leave the kisaeng house. But this doesn’t end here. The painter had been denied the right to bid farewell to his noonas a second time because of Heena (again), (chapter 99), this means that her punishment will be that she will never see her colleagues again. Since she faked her death (chapter 99), her karma will be that she gets killed for real. In my opinion, Heena is destined to suffer and die a horrible death. Remember that in this story, karma will be 1000% worse than the crime itself. She will be definitely blamed for the murder of many people. Since she claimed that nobles were filthy and violent liars, her doctrines and belief could be used against her, the moment the police investigate Black Heart’s death. .(chapter 102) She is a Christian, hence she could be accused of sacrilege too. In my eyes, Heena will never be able to bid farewell to her brother again. His words in the mansion will become a reality. (chapter 69) As you can see, I am detecting a progression in her wrongdoings. She is getting more and more involved, though there is no ambiguity that she was deceived herself in season 3. But this doesn’t excuse her crimes, for she refused to listen to her brother and called him an idiot. At no moment, she pondered on the situation. Her decisions were strongly influenced by her emotions (fear, anger and hatred). That’s the reason why I am convinced that if she is not dead (my theory), her attitude towards her brother will worsen to the point that she will call her brother a bird of misfortune! (chapter 68) Remember her metaphor concerning the gibang, it was viewed as a nest. She was already comparing her brother to a bird. (chapter 93) Thus the only thing that is missing is “of misfortune”. And she can only adopt such a belief, for everything she had planned never worked out. She imagined that she could exchange her brother for her freedom (chapter 97) which represented a betrayal of her own doctrines. But the result was that Min was killed, hence her situation can only deteriorate. If she can escape punishment concerning the nobles’ killing, she has then an opportunity to change her situation by putting the blame on her brother. Why? It is because Baek Na-Kyum will be perceived by Kim and the pedophile as the bird of misfortune. They will be reunited by this “belief”. This reinforces my conviction that the departures in season 4 will become very bloody and painful. The irony is that her metaphor with the bird revealed more about her own thoughts than she imagined. She just needed to give him some warmth, feed Baek Na-Kyum, and that was it. He had a bed and he could eat. A smile and a caress on the cheek were enough to motivate the painter. Her affection was fleeting and trivial in the end. However, while writing this essay, I realized why Baek Na-Kyum ended up drawing in the courtyard. It is because this was the only place where he could be in peace. In the room, he got assaulted by the nobles (chapter 94) or he had to witness his noona getting “beaten” by a violent noble (chapter 68). As you can see, the kitchen and the courtyard seemed to be the only place where he was left alone, until he got assault in the courtyard. Naturally, it was only possible during the day. Thus the learned sir had such a memory. (chapter 01)

5. Conclusions

The story is not only reflecting Heena’s metamorphosis and downfall, but also it serves as an example for the painter. Through her, he can grasp why Yoon Chang-Hyeon had such a cold gaze towards his own son. The ruin of their relationship will make him realize why the father could turn his back on his own son, the refusal of admitting his wrong choices and guilt. If he recalls their last argument, he can already notice the change in her gaze. (chapter 97) Fake concern versus anger and resent (chapter 97) The only difference is that here her fury and hatred were addressed more towards Yoon Seungho than the painter. However, gradually she was slowly revealing her anger towards her brother. At the end of season 3, her exit is quite sudden and brutal: staged death! (chapter 99) But by faking her death, she not only hides her desertion, but also she is not able to bid farewell to her brother. He is left behind unconscious, so he can not notice her “death”, while in her mind, she can only remember this image: (chapter 99) Baek Na-Kyum lying unconscious and his head covered in blood. Will she feel remorse and blame herself for his “death”? If she is still alive, it is possible, however the moment she realizes that Baek Na-Kyum escaped death and as such staged his curtains, she can only resent him, for he deceived her. In reality, she was the one who deceiving everyone: Jihwa and the other nobles. To conclude, she played a bigger role in Yoon Seungho’s suffering in the end.

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

Painter Of The Night: Happy laughter 😄 and fearful agony 😧

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night/ 

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What is the common denominator between all these images? The painter’s mouth is wide open. This implies that the painter is laughing! In other words, these pictures are showing a happy Baek Na-Kyum. The laughter is not just a symbol for joy, but also an indicator for social bonding, cooperation and as such social acceptance. Note that in all these scenes, the painter is not laughing alone. He is either facing his lover and the “witnesses” of his marriage.

On the other hand, what caught my attention is that in the story itself, the manhwaphiles never saw the painter laughing in the present!! The only time, he was caught laughing happened during a dream. (chapter 87) Naturally, this vision reflected the past due to the presence of the noonas. But if you read my previous analysis, you are aware that the painter’s nocturne visions are always composed of three elements: memory, nightmare and desires which will come true at some point. The readers will certainly recall the painter’s wish in the bedchamber: (chapter 81) However, here again, this was not real, for he was imagining it. He had restrained himself, for he felt that his actual life was like an illusion. It was too good to be true. Thus I conclude that in both visions, the painter wished to laugh and as such to be happy. And this observation led me to the following deduction. In season 4, the manhwalovers will witness Baek Na-Kyum’s laughter. But this doesn’t end here. All the quoted pictures share another similarity which is the absence of the sound!! There is no HA, HA, HA…. Thus I deduce that in season 4, the readers will even hear Baek Na-Kyum’s laugh!! 🤣

1. Evidences for this prediction

First, I would like to remind my avid readers the following rules: Yoon Seungho’s actions will always be reflected by the painter’s and the reverse. Secondly, each scene in a season will be mirrored in other seasons. Striking is that the readers could witness Yoon Seungho’s joy and laugh in season 1. Thus this means that the painter should laugh in season 4. Interesting is that the author had separated the lord’s laugher in two different scenes. In episode 1, the protagonist had his mouth wide open, because he was so happy to meet his idol. (chapter 1). His mouth was exposing his emotions: happiness. It was, as if he was laughing internally out of joy. Then in the pavilion, the author let us hear Yoon Seungho’s laugh, while we couldn’t see his face. (chapter 25) As you can see, Yoon Seungho was not truly seen “laughing”. This is what we saw right after: (chapter 25) Either the sound was missing, or the readers couldn’t see his open mouth. Then in chapter 51, Byeonduck created an ambiguous situation. (chapter 51) Who was laughing here? The main lead or Min recognizable with his green hanbok? This confusion was deliberate. It was to give the impression that the lord had moved on, he was not missing his partner. This image served to divulge the reality: this happiness was fake. Another interesting aspect is that we couldn’t see the lord’s mouth, for it was too far away. It was more or less drawn from the painter’s perspective who was walking in the courtyard. (chapter 51) The purpose of this trick was to deceive the painter, Yoon Seungho would no longer care for him. However, this trick didn’t work out like imagined due to the maid’s words. She wished that he would remain in the mansion. But let’s return our attention to the laugher in this panel. I would even add that there was no real social bounding, for Black Heart was enjoying about Yoon Seungho’s misery and loss. He believed that the painter had died. And if it was Yoon Seungho who laughed, then this was to mask his pain. Then in chapter 70, he was caught laughing. And observe that the author separated the sound from the face: (chapter 70) Yoon Seungho would even hide his face from the painter, as he was looking down. His laugh was barely perceptible, and when the author revealed his face, Yoon Seungho used his hand to mask his smile. (chapter 70) It was, as if Yoon Seungho was not allowed to smile or to laugh at all. I would even go so far to say that laughers were actually forbidden in the mansion. Striking is that in season 3, for the first time, we could see and hear the lord’s laughter contrary to season 1 and 2.. (chapter 78) This illustrates the progression of the lord’s healing. He was getting happier, and he would interact more and more with people. Yet, in this scene, the lord’s laughter was not loud contrary to the one in the pavilion. Then in the gibang, his laugh was also fake, for he was masking his pain. (chapter 93) Thus the author didn’t let us see his mouth once again. But the painter could see the difference between a sincere laughter and a fake one, as he had already heard and see the lord’s true laugher! Because the lord laughed in all 3 seasons, I could only assume the painter’s laughing in season 4. But I have another proof for this prediction. In season 3, the painter’s laughter was shown in visions (chapter 81, 87) or through the testimony of the maid. (chapter 91) However, the manhwalovers have to envision that, when he caught the pervert with the maid together, he was totally embarrassed. Hence his laugh was fake! In other words, I am doubting that he truly laughed. That’s the reason why Baek Na-Kyum denied to find the situation funny. (chapter 91) As a conclusion, expect a picture with Baek Na-Kyum ‘s laughter reflecting his happiness and sincerity. And this is definitely related to his marriage: I have another proof for this expectation, the lord’s mouth in this scene: (chapter 87) Here, he was making fun of his father, and used the rumors about his imminent marriage. That’s how I realized that in season 3, the lord had often played the role of the Joker (chapter 78-79; 87; 89-90-91), until he was replaced by Black Heart. That’s the reason why I have been predicting that in season 4, Yoon Seungho will play a huge prank on the old bearded men, especially the mysterious lord Song, with his marriage. But while making this connection between the lord’s laughter and the painter’s, I had another revelation: the mouth wide open is not just the expression for laughter, but also for fear and suffering.

2. Anxiety and torture

Look at this image: (chapter 102) There is no HAHA, this shows that this situation is not funny. Yet, Black Heart is still smiling, he is even explaining that they were just playing. However, this smile is totally fake, for he is already scared. Hence he is stuttering. Moreover, he is trying to downplay the whole situation, as he describes it as a game. But the closer Yoon Seungho got to him, the more the villain got scared. (chapter 102) On the other hand, Black Heart’s mouth remained wide open, but it slowly exposed his true emotions. As the manhwalovers can detect, the sound “Haa,” is not expressing joy or happiness, but huge anxieties. Thus I couldn’t help myself thinking that in season 4, the painter’s laughter will be reflected with the heavy breathing from fear and pain. Someone will have a mouth wide open out of fear!! And this connection was already present in chapter 1: (chapter 1) versus (chapter 1) Baek Na-Kyum and Yoon Seungho had both flashbacks (chapter 66), while Min was smiling. He was internally laughing, for it found it entertaining. [For more read the essay HAHA Flashbacks”] And this fear was exposed by the sound: HAA (chapter 99) But this doesn’t end here.

The sound HAA is just associated to anxiety, but also to moan. Hence I couldn’t restrain myself thinking that the wide open mouth can not only express pleasure, but also pain caused by TORTURE! Let’s not forget that the painter had been hiding his moaning out of pleasure in the past (chapter 84), but in the gibang, he dropped this habit for good: (chapter 96) This connection between pain, pleasure and laughter appeared in chapter 91, as the story is based on the following rule: there is always a reflection within the same episode. I would like the manhwaphiles to observe this image: (chapter 91) Here, the lord had changed position provoking pleasure to the artist. Before, the maid had laughed so loudly in order to get the painter’s attention. (chapter 91) According to my interpretation, she hoped that Baek Na-Kyum would discover the existence of the kisaeng’s letters so that the painter would feel betrayed by Yoon Seungho. He had ordered to hide the correspondence. But for that, she needed to explain the reason for her loud laughter. Hence she revealed the incident with the pervert. The irony is that due to his pleasure and embarrassment, Baek Na-Kyum didn’t pay attention to her words. He already felt ashamed, after the servant had exposed the situation in the bathroom. (chapter 91) Thus he avoided his lover’s gaze. And note that in chapter 25, the lord laughed, before he raped the painter. (chapter 25) This episode exposes the connection between laugh and pain. Here, you can see that the painter is also screaming out of pain, the negative reflection of Yoon Seungho’s laugh. Baek Na-Kyum’s mouth was wide open. When people are tortured, they will usually scream their pain and fear.

The last image is taken from Dong-Yi, a historical k-drama, which I am employing as a reference. The beholder can detect a huge difference between this scene (chapter 37) and the one from Dong-Yi. The absence of the sound. Moreover, the manhwalovers can not see the mouths from the victims either. The torture was already finished, for they had removed the tools and the „suspects“ were covered with blood. And this leads me to the following observation. The author selected a perspective from far away, and didn’t add the sound on purpose. This shows that the pedophile was not present, when the torture took place. He only arrived afterwards. This exposes his cowardice. Secondly, since I had outlined that the author had separated the sound (HA HA) from the lord’s mouth concerning the laughter, I am quite certain that she will use a similar processes for the torture. Naturally, I am also assuming that torture from the past could be slowly revealed. Consequently, my prediction is that the negative reflection of the painter’s laughter will be the yelling combined with fear and pain. This signifies that people will suffer in season 4 and probably die. Another evidence for this prediction is that the author often focused on the characters’ mouth. And this is what we have: (chapter 77) (chapter 86) (chapter 98) In the last scene, Heena was sort of “punished”, when she confessed to the main lead. That’s the reason why I believe that in season 4, we will see people screaming out of pain and fear. It can be in the present or in the past. The interrogation and torture should be exposed in my eyes contrary to chapter 37. Why? It is because Baek Na-Kyum needs to know what happened to Yoon Seungho to understand him. There is no ambiguity that the painter will suffer again, for in this work “pain” is necessary to change the painter’s mind and heart. Remember that he was “tormented”, when he finally admitted that he believed in his lover’s innocence. (chapter 99) Despite the “torture”, he still claimed that Yoon Seungho was no murderer. Thus I conclude that in the next season, it should be the reverse. Yoon Seungho has to make a new leap of faith believing in the painter’s innocence and purity. Hence I am expecting an arrest in season 4. Finally, we shouldn’t overlook that each word Yoon Seungho said became the truth, so when he stated this (chapter 65), he was already warning the sister. She could face human justice. However, this idiom suddenly caught my attention: “the wrath of humans”. It can be a reference to the authorities, but also to the inhabitants. The latter could get infuriated by the police work and put the officers under pressure or in the worst case, the inhabitants could decide to do their own justice: lynch mob. According to me, many commoners died in season 3. Hence this could upset the town folks who would ask for real justice. And if Yoon Seungho’s fiancée is acknowledged by them, then it will be impossible for the pedophile to use the authorities to achieve his goal, separate the couple and hide his own crimes. Thus his last puppets will have to take the fall. Another important aspect is that when Yoon Seungho warned the kisaeng, Kim was also present, though he still remained in the background. (chapter 65) As you can imagine, I am already sensing a bad ending for Heena and Kim. Striking is that in this scene, while the noona was seen constantly with her mouth wide open, yelling at the host and calling for her brother, the latter was having a flashback. This is no coincidence, especially if you recall that Heena was connected to Baek Na-Kyum’s tears: (chapter 68) (chapter 94) In fact, this reinforces my conviction that the painter’s laughter will be contrasted with people’s moaning and yells out of agony. At the same time, I think that Heena is connected to scandal, but in season 2 and 3, she failed to create a ruckus. Why? It is because in the past, she had helped to cover up the crimes committed in the kisaeng house.

3. Conclusions

Under this new perspective, the manhwalovers can comprehend why I used the following emojis in the title: 😄😧 Both of them have a open mouth, the only difference are the eyes. Out of fear, the eyes get bigger, because the body is in survival modus. On the other hand, when these persons got tortured, they closed their eyes out of agony,

reminding us of the painter’s suffering in the gibang. Yet, the closed eyes and the open mouth is quite similar to the painter’s laughter: The readers can grasp why I made this connection between suffering and happiness in the end.

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

Painter Of The Night: The rise of the dragon 🐲

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night/ 

It would be great if you could make some donations/sponsoring: Ko-fi.com/bebebisous33  That way, you can support me with “coffee” so that I have the energy to keep examining manhwas. Besides, I need to cover up the expenses for this blog.

1. Yoon Seungho the king

After the end of season 1, I had been contacted by many followers asking me about the possible ending of Painter Of The Night. Many feared for a depressing ending, as Byeonduck had declared that the protagonists would be happy on their own. In their mind, this meant that the protagonists wouldn’t end up together. My reply was that the couple would become happy without getting too dependent on each other. I meant Yoon Seungho and Baek Na-Kyum would come to give a new sense to their own life, and their love would help them to have a goal and purpose in their life. And that’s how real couples live. Thus while examining season 1 closely, I came to imagine that Yoon Seungho would become the king and Baek Na-Kyum his painter. As you can see, very early on, I connected the noble to royalty. Why? First, we had the lord outlining his powerful position in front of the painter. (chapter 11) Secondly, I had associated the main lead to the eagle which is the symbol for the kings and emperors in Europe. He was seen here flying (chapter 30), and his fingers reminded me of the eagle’s claws. (chapter 18) And this perception got even reinforced, when I saw this panel: (chapter 52) In this scene, he was sitting like a king surrounded by his “court”. The hanbok had such a design that I couldn’t help myself associating it to Joseon’s monarchy.

However, I have to admit my mistake, for this interpretation was strongly influenced by my own culture and as such European history. Yet, here we are dealing with Korean and as such with Joseon culture. Hence the symbol for Joseon’s dynasty is not the eagle, but the dragon. That’s why when I saw this new image on Twitter , I had another revelation. On the one hand, it actually confirmed that Yoon Seungho was somehow destined to become a king, yet he is not represented by the eagle or the phoenix, but by the dragon. Hence the moment I saw this image, one idiom came to my mind: Dragon king!

2. Yongwang

Because of this sudden association, I decided to look more into it. Thus imagine my surprise, when I discovered this:

https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2022/10/113_324712.html

Yongwang, or Dragon King, is a deity of the river or the sea, overseeing peace in the house, good health and longevity in the family, the harvest, catch and safe sailing. Yongwang is also called Yongsin (Dragon God).

Communities worshipped Yongwang as a water god, holding divine powers to control rainfall. Dragon King worship is closely related to the contemporary practice of staging rituals at village springs or wells that are believed to be dwelling places for Yongwang. Around the country there are also legends regarding dragon springs and dragon wells, created by a dragon that brought rain to repay humans by turning wasteland fertile, which shows that Yongwang is closely related to farming. […] In shamanism, Yongwang oversees not only fishing, but the souls of those who have drowned and died. In the worship of household gods, it is a deity that oversees peace in the household, good health and longevity in the family, the harvest, catch and safe sailing.

Among rituals held for Yongwang in the home by women, the most widely spread is yongwangmeogigi (feeding the dragon king), also referred to as yongsinje (dragon god ritual) and gaetje (fishing ritual). This ritual can take place in three different venues: First is a private well in the backyard; second is the communal well, where, in some cases, a spring ritual (saemje) is held, then water from the well is brought to the home and placed in the kitchen or on the sauce jar terrace for the Dragon King; […] https://folkency.nfm.go.kr/en/topic/detail/2618

The moment I read this article, I couldn’t restrain myself making the parallels between Yoon Seungho and Yongwang. First, the deity in the background reminded me of Yongwang. (chapter 100), though this deity is always accompanied with a dragon and in this picture, the readers couldn’t see one. However, it is possible that the author didn’t desire to reveal too much.

“his most distinctive traits are that his beard, moustache and eyebrows are (usually) “spiky,” protruding in sharp points, sometimes resembling coral, and his eyes are often bulging out like those of a fish. He most often holds the banya-jinju (般若眞珠, flaming pearl of wisdom, a type of ma-niju 摩尼珠), but sometimes a branch of coral or a sword.” quoted from http://www.san-shin.org/EKB-Yongwang-DragonKing.html  

Secondly, we have a strong connection between rain and the main lead’s situation and emotional state. It rained, when the lord had sex with Baek Na-Kyum. (chapter 21) Why? It is because the lord was happy. These were the tears of happiness, which Yoon Seungho couldn’t express contrary to the painter. And this is no coincidence that in chapter 58, it started snowing, when the couple was making love: (chapter 58) And we had the same weather, when Yoon Seungho saved his lover. (chapter 102) The weather was expressing the main lead’s emotions: tears of happiness or sadness. We could say that the lord has the “power” to move the sky.

Furthermore, the well plays a huge role in this story. Many people are found dead in a well (chapter 97), and according to me, the messenger was drown there. (chapter 94) In addition, my theory is that Deok-Jae and/or Jung In-Hun’s body were placed in a jar in order to hide the murders. For me, the jar plays a huge role in Painter Of The Night… thus Byeonduck created such a scene in season 2 (chapter 46) and we have so many jars next to the pond: (chapter 94) [For more read the essay “The secret behind the library”]

Furthermore, this story takes place in Jemulpo, a town situated next to the sea, and Yongwang’s realm is supposed to be in the sea. (chapter 91) This is no coincidence. To conclude, all these elements (rain, jar, well, soul of a deceased), connected to the dragon king, are present in Painter Of The Night. Thus I came to the conclusion that Yoon Seungho is like Dragon king. This reinforces my conviction that the main lead is not only connected to shamanism, but also embodies royalty. So he might not be the king of Joseon, but he is powerful in his own way, though he is not aware of this. And note that the moment he wished to commit suicide by drowning in the pond, he was brought back to life. (chapter 102) Water is his true element.

In different temples, you can discover Yongwang accompanied with a woman. She is also dressed in royal clothes with a small crown. What’s unclear is if she’s another Yongwang or if she’s his wife. And this could be a reference to the painter, who will become Yoon Seungho’s bride, but his true identity will remain hidden.

What caught my attention is that the rituals concerning Yongwang are held by women, which stands in opposition to the shrine and Confucianism. (chapter 85) This means that in the Yoons’ mansion, people didn’t venerate this god. And since the aristocrat made such a statement to the elder Yoon Chang-Hyeon, (chapter 86), I have the impression that in season 4, we will assist to a real ritual to ward off evil and back luck, leading the tormenting souls to the afterlife peacefully.

And this leads me to the following observation, the dragon in Korea and Joseon is perceived as a good omen! He would bring good fortune.

Since the release, I realized that the decorated tree (chapter 100) and this altar (chapter 100) were exposing the presence of a ritual. However, my problem was that I couldn’t determine exactly the nature of the ritual. But by making the connection between the dragon and good fortune, I had now more clues. I have to admit that I can not be 100% sure for this, but this is what I found:

Yonggyeong (Kor. 용경, Chin. 龍耕, lit. dragon’s plowing) is a custom observed on Dongji (Kor. 동지, Chin. 冬至, Winter Solstice) in which people tried to predict the outcome of farming for the upcoming year based on the direction and angle of cracks on the surface of a frozen pond. The custom is also known as yonggari (Kor. 용갈이) or yong-ui batgari (Kor. 용의 밭갈이), both meaning ‘plowing by the dragon.’ When ice covers a pond, there is often a crack that divides the ice sheet into two halves, as though a field were divided along a furrow left after plowing. This phenomenon was considered a trail left by a dragon and, therefore, interpreted as having divinatory power concerning farming success in the year ahead. […]

According to another custom referred to as dongbok (Kor. 동복, Chin. 凍卜, lit. ice fortune-telling), on the eve of the year’s first full moon (the fourteenth of the first lunar month), people left two bowls of fresh water out overnight and positioned them north and south of each other. The next morning, they examined the ice sheet that appeared in the bowls and tried to predict the success of farming in the northern and southern regions.  quoted from https://folkency.nfm.go.kr/en/topic/detail/4622

The timing fits to our story, and we have the presence of bowls in front of the deity in the yard. In my eyes, the shaman had prepared a ritual for the dragon king, and was praying for the success of the farming. Don’t forget that it takes place just before Spring. Consequently, this is not surprising that the lord got connected to peasants and this very early on. (chapter 4) (chapter 6) (chapter 82)

This observation leads me to the following conclusion: Yoon Seungho, as a new version of Dragon King, will bring luck to the commoners and peasants. He will help them to improve their living conditions (education and good farming). As you already know, I consider Yoon Seungho as a representative of Sirhak. [For more information read the essay “The scholars’ fight”] And now, you comprehend why very early on, I expected that Yoon Seungho would become a king. He doesn’t need to become a real “king”, yet there is no ambiguity that his fate is to become famous as a spiritual and fair leader.

3. Dragon and imoogi

That’s the reason why I started looking for more information about the dragon. As the readers could see through the deity, this mythical animal is strongly connected to water!

What caught my attention is that the Korean dragon has no wing, yet it can still fly and he has a small beard (hair around the mouth)!! But more importantly, this creature is a combination of different animals: the body of the snake, the antlers of the deer, the forehead of the camel, the nose of a pig, the ears of the cow, the claws of the hawk, the scales of the carp, the fist of a tiger and the eyes of the rabbit! He contains all the strongest features of these animals:

  1. luck for the pig
  2. strength for the tiger
  3. elegance of a deer
  4. stubbornness and resistance of a camel
  5. compassionate and giving nature of a cow
  6. the constant change, the metamorphosis of a snake (cycle of death and rebirth)
  7. the rapidity of a hawk
  8. fertility of a carp
  9. the abundance of the rabbit by sharing its eyes

In other sources, I read that the Korean dragon had also features of the dog, the frog and the sheep. But why does this mythical animal possess so many features from different creatures? It is because this powerful, God-like creature embodies the love and respect Korean people have for the natural world. I would even say that he represents nature, and as such he stands for harmony and justice. By being sharing features of different animals, he can understand their life. This is not surprising that the Joseon kings utilized this animal as their emblem. It symbolizes their power (omnipotence and “immortality”) while substantiating their ability to be fair and just rulers. 

Striking is that we have an allusion to these animals in Painter Of The Night. First, the lord was able to kill the boar (chapter 83) and the deer (chapter 22). Then the lord compared Baek Na-Kyum’s eyes to a rabbit. (chapter 78) Since both resemble each other, I deduce that the main lead has the same eyes, the rabbit’s. Like mentioned above, he utilized his fingers similar to claws: (chapter 18) He would fly like a bird, though he has no wing (chapter 30). His fists in this scene reminded me of a tiger’s: (chapter 54) One might argue that this signification is totally impossible, for the lord doesn’t have the body of a snake. This point can be refuted very easily. What is the major characteristic of a snake is molting. A regularly recurrent event during the activity period of all snakes is the shedding of the skin. This coincides with the lord’s change of clothes. The latter reflected his downfall and rising. Furthermore, this animal is linked to death and rebirth. My avid readers are already aware that I had detected different scenes, where we could witness the lord’s spiritual death and rebirth, like for example in the shed: (chapter 62) When he discovered his misjudgment the next morning, he felt like dead. He no longer saw himself as a lord, but came to view the painter as his new lord : (chapter 66) As a conclusion, Yoon Seungho shares so many similarities with the dragon that I came to view him as one. This explicates why even after getting married, he will never wear a beard! The change of dresses and hair dresses of Yoon Seungho represents the different social status in Joseon society: young master, painter, male kisaeng, slave, peasant, executioner, servant, lord, concubine, “wife”/husband” etc. Moreover, since I had detected parallels between the protagonist and the legend of Dangun, this could only reinforce my conviction that Byeonduck is referring to old tales and religions (and as such Dragon King) in her story. The author has already stated that she won’t create a story with the couple set in our time, and this becomes understandable, if she is constantly referring to old traditions and myths.

According to different sources, the Korean dragon is not born as such.

“Korean mythology states dragons were born from a mating ritual between a phoenix and a crane. This led the dragon to become a creature that harnessed mythical power and intelligence.” Quoted from https://daebak.co/en-de/blogs/magazine/animal-symbolism-in-south-korea

My avid readers will certainly recall my associations for the characters, Yoon Seungho was the phoenix and Baek Na-Kyum a crane. Thus we could say that their union makes them the dragon bringing justice and peace to victims. In another source, I found that the dragons were once said to be Imoogi in the beginning, a giant lizard that resembles sea serpents. They exist several different versions on how Imoogi become Dragons. One said it would take a thousand years for them to become a dragon, while another says they must catch Yeouiju (star) falling from the sky. Thus in temples and in pictures, the Korean dragon is also always represented with a ball.

Another theory that exists and sounds the most logical to me, says that Imoogi was born in a place where living and dead intermingled. It was created in cave where thousands of people were stuck due to war in 420AD. As more and more people started to die in the cave, their intense agony and suffering led the foundation for Imoogi’s birth and therefore it symbolizes destruction and sadness. Imoogi controls the power of birth, death and rebirth. Ouroboros, a symbol of wholeness/infinity is also represented by a snake(serpent) eating its tail.” quoted from https://rtaori60.medium.com/imoogi-the-great-lizard-aca02c6c9b1e

Since it takes 1000 years for an imoogi to transform into a dragon, we have 10 years of suffering in Painter Of The Night. For me, this is not random at all. This means that after chapter 102, Yoon Seungho turned into a real dragon! This corresponds to his Coming-Of-Age. That’s the reason why I don’t think that he will be manipulated again like in season 2 and 3! My avid readers are already aware of the presence of ouroboros in this manhwa. For me, Kim symbolizes the imoogi and Ouroboros! He could never turn into a real dragon. But why does the imoogi need to wait for so long ? Some say that this is a curse, other traditions hold the idea that Imoogi are “pupae” or “larvae” of dragons. And they will become full-fledged and full-fledged dragons after being in the ocean for 1000 years. This signifies that time, experience and patience are essential for this transformation. Thus not every imoogi can become a dragon in the end, and that’s Kim’s fate. He was not able to recognize Yoon Seungho as his “yeouiji”. The shaman’s house reminds me of the cavern (chapter 102), and thanks to the painter, Yoon Seungho’s soul was able to escape this “mental prison”.

And this leads me to the following aspect: Baek Na-Kyum is the lord’s Yeouiji, his fallen star fulfilling all his wishes. That’s the reason why the dragon is never seen without his star. One might say that this is exaggerated. However, my avid readers should remember that I had associated the painter to a star, the sun, in previous essays, even before making the relation between the dragon and Yoon Seungho! This explicates why the lord is carrying his lover like his bride (chapter 45) (chapter 102), similar to the dragon in the picture above. His “star” serves as his guide, support and his source of life. Thus when the main lead confessed to the painter for the first time, the sun entered the bedchamber (chapter 55) and as such his heart and mind.

Therefore I come to the conclusion that in season 4, the readers will witness a clash between two dragons, the king and Yoon Seungho! The fight between the fake and the real dragon! Thus when the author released this panel recently, (Twitter), she was actually announcing the arrival of the monarch in Joseon. Hence you comprehend why I selected such a title, the rise of the dragon. “Lord Song” can no longer hide his true identity.

4. Dragon king and expulsion

My readers will certainly recall that the starting point of this essay was this expression “dragon king” which came to my mind, when I saw the recent publication. Why? First, the main figure was wearing the gonryongpo (곤룡포), where dragons are sewn on it. This hanbok is the everyday robe for the king which explains why the latter is always wearing the red robe all the time he appears in front of people. Hence I made this association in my mind: dragon king. When Byeonduck published this image, , she was naturally creating a new story, another Alternative Universe. The student Baek Na-Kyum who got bullied by the classmate Deok-Jae was suddenly sent back to Joseon, and appeared in front of the king’s bedchamber, Yoon Seungho.

Striking is that this panel resembles a lot to this picture which the author hasn’t used yet: The painter is sitting inside a room, while Jung In-Hun is standing outside. Nonetheless, the position of the characters are very similar. This indicates that the author’s new alternative story is actually inspired by the main story!! This can only reinforce my perception that Yoon Seungho in the main story is associated to royalty. However, since it is a reflection, I deduce that this image is the positive reflection of this scene: How did the learned sir react here? He criticized the painter by stating that this was “filthy”. In this scene, the characters are caught by surprise, but it becomes obvious that there is no disgust or expulsion. In fact, the fall of man took place before, for Baek Na-Kyum was sent to Joseon. In this encounter, I detect attraction and curiosity. Hence I come to the conclusion that in the original story, when this scene took place, , Yoon Seungho was far from being living like a king. As you already know, according to my interpretation, the protagonist was treated like a male kisaeng. That’s the reason why I believe that this scene played a huge role in Yoon Seungho’s liberation, the physical expulsion from hell in the end. Since in the parallel story, the student experienced time-travel and as such rejection and expulsion, I conclude that in the main story, Yoon Seungho must have made a similar experience! But this doesn’t end here, as the readers should keep in the mind the following rule: The painter’s destiny reflects the lord’s.

On the other hand, the manhwaphiles will complain that so far, Yoon Seungho has never appeared as a dragon. Yet, we shouldn’t overlook that the phoenix is the symbol for the Queen in Joseon. (chapter 50) (chapter 52) This means that the mysterious lord Song was actually claiming the main lead as his wife in the last scene. Min and his friends were sent there in order to entertain the protagonist, but they failed. This explicates why the next day, Black Heart was seen with a hanbok of lower quality. (chapter 56) It was, as if Min had been compensated for his bruised face by the mysterious lord Song. However, for the pedophile, Black Heart was just a concubine, and not his main wife! Hence the hanbok had not such a detailed and expensive design. This would explain the villain’s jealousy. And now, if you look back at the hanboks from the main lead, you will recognize his ascent. First, he is wearing green, which is similar to Yoon Chang-Hyeon’s color. At the same time, his hat resembled a lot to Kim’s. (chapter 1) Then later, he is mostly wearing blue which is actually the color of the Crown prince. (chapter 11) Yet, his robes initially have no design. Slowly, the lord is wearing colors and designs that are actually reserved for a king: blue, red, black and purple. This constant change of hanboks symbolizes the “snake molting” and as such his transformation and rising. This is not astonishing that on the night of the bloodbath, he had such a hanbok: (chapter 102) Here, he was no longer acting like a noble, but as a ruler. Don’t forget that according to me, the mysterious lord Song had proclaimed the main lead as his unofficial Queen by giving him hanboks with phoenixes. However, naturally, this was never mentioned to Yoon Seungho directly. Why? It is because Kim usually selects his clothes. However, this rise was not natural, as the lord had no real saying in this matter. The real metamorphosis took place in the shaman’s house, when the lord was sent back to the past and as such the darkness. (chapter 102) The moment he left the “cave”, he went to the mountain and surrounded by the wind and water, he changed into a dragon. This expulsion corresponds to the final release, the lord’s mind is finally freed from the darkness, while I believe that this scene is linked to the lord’s physical liberation. .

5. Nightmare and dream

Above, I had mentioned that the painter was the dragon’s fallen star and the love sessions were strongly connected to the weather. If so, why did it snow, when the learned sir left the mansion? (chapter 44) It is because the main lead was thinking that the painter would actually run away. Thus the door was left opened, and he was wearing warm clothes. Yoon Seungho never imagined that Baek Na-Kyum would remain by his side. Yet, during the previous night, the lord had consoled his lover by embracing him.

Furtheremore, the manhwalovers could also wonder why the lord had a nightmare in the bedchamber after their second love session? The painter’s presence should have brought relief. Moreover, during that night, there was no rain. (chapter 71) But this can be refuted easily. First, don’t forget that during this love session, the lord was acting like a servant pleasing his new lord. So this had nothing to do with Yoon Seungho’s feelings like sadness or happiness. He was determined to keep the painter by his side, and ignoring his own feelings. He never expected the artist to reciprocate his feelings. Secondly, Yoon Seungho’s nocturne vision is not just a nightmare, but also a DREAM! Yes, you are reading this correctly. Only recently, I discovered that all the artist’s visions are a combination of 3 elements: memory, nightmare and dream! I will give you three examples as illustration, for I am slowly running out of time.

Chapter 28: This vision is a combination of these three elements: memory, nightmare and dream. This had happened during the First Wedding Night (memory) (chapter 21), then we have a similar situation in chapter 49: , , but the painter was rejecting this future. Hence he considered it as a nightmare.

  • Chapter 34 : Memory ; nightmare the lord becomes a ghost and confronts the painter with his biggest fears (admitting his attraction, passion for erotic paintings and homosexuality) and dream (The painter’s true desire was that the lord would kiss him, he was deeply longing for his lips, yet he was still in denial in this vision.
  • Chapter 98: Memory, for the painter was remembering the corpse in the courtyard, a dream, as he wished the return of his loved one . He hoped that the lord would take care of him personally. Naturally, the “spirit” is the nightmare .

Since the lord’s fate and personality are similar to the painter’s, I could only come to the conclusion that the lord’s vision in the bedchamber is not just showing the past and the future horror. It also exposes the lord’s dream and hope! 😮

So where were his desires visible? First it was about breaking free from his jail… (chapter 74) This had already happened, but the lord had not grasped the significance. (chapter 53) Besides, he had not opened the door himself. Even when he went to the scholar Lee and opened the door with the his foot, the lord still felt trapped. (chapter 67) Then in season 3, he could break a door, but it was thanks to the painter. (chapter 96) This shows that the lord’s wish to get released had not been fulfilled so far. In my eyes, it is connected to the torture Yoon Seungho suffered and as such to the purge organized by the authorities. That’s the reason why I deduce that the lord will break a door in season 4, and this won’t be by accident and it will be witnessed by many people contrary to chapter 53, 67 and 96! The broken door will reflect the lord’s rise and power, and no one will be able to stop this. In my eyes, this wish is connected to the door in the servants’ quarter. That’s how his imprisonment started.

Moreover, the protagonist was voicing his thoughts, the reproach to Kim and his father! They had abandoned him. (chapter 74) The “dragon” wished to see Kim and his father, and confront them! And this did take place in season 3. Yoon Seungho confronted the butler with his attitude and betrayal (chapter 77), but this argument was just short-lived. He still viewed the valet as a hard-working and trustworthy person. He had just made bad decisions. Then in the bedchamber, the lord could blame the father for his suffering: (chapter 86) As you can see, the lord’s wishes were granted, but the nocturne vision was so difficult to grasp that neither the readers nor the main lead could interpret the message correctly immediately. Besides, the nightmare was mostly silent. But this doesn’t end here.

(chapter 74) In this image, he is floating in the air… a sign that his status is changing. At the same time, this shows that he is escaping from the hands. They are trying to drag the main lead down. Thus I come to the conclusion that the vision was announcing the lord’s transformation (into a dragon) and as such his “rise”. Note that in this image, he is still a teenager, but in the following panel the protagonist has already become an adult. (chapter 74) Simultaneously, the vision also displays the lord’s expulsion from “hell”, the sex orgies (chapter 74). the hands are trying to bring him back. This image displayed that Yoon Seungho would become powerful, and the hands wouldn’t be able to contain him any longer. The pink is a reference to the painter, and not just to the gibang! Thanks to the painter, Yoon Seungho is changing so that he will be able to face the KING, but not only him!! This is what the dream was telling him too. Thus we have this image: (chapter 74) Simultaneously, the dream showed that the lord wished to see this painting again, though deep down, he blames this image for his suffering. As you can see, the vision was revealing the tormented disposition of the lord. He was switching from nightmare to dream and the reverse… a mixture of anxieties and desires.

However, pay attention that the painting was standing behind Yoon Seungho, when the hand grabbed him (chapter 74) This signifies that he was approached by someone from behind, he had not noticed that the “door” had been opened. Thus he never expected his apparition. For me, this perception demonstrates that the painting is not the real cause for Yoon Seungho’s suffering. Since he had turned around, I came to recognize that this scene stands in opposition to the situation in the painter’s nightmare: (chapter 34) The painter had been able to witness the entrance of the ghost contrary to Yoon Seungho. The latter was caught by surprise. This image illustrates the lord’s biggest fear. That’s how I realized that his biggest nightmare is not the pedophile in my opinion, for the main lead in Baek Na-Kyum’s “nightmare” (chapter 34) stands for attraction, honesty and love… thus it should be the opposite in Yoon Seungho’s nightmare: repulsion, betrayal and resent! He fears to admit the truth, the biggest traitor is Kim, but he is still in denial. He has repressed the terrible betrayal from Kim, just like the painter’s, though I think that the biggest traitor in Baek Na-Kyum’s case is not really Jung In-Hun, but Heena. This would explain why Heena noona was not present in the terrible vision in chapter 34. This is not random that we don’t see the face of the owner’s hand. Naturally, the king was involved in this betrayal, for Yoon Seungho is caught between the hand and the painting. He was trapped between two forces.

This means that Baek Na-Kyum will help Yoon Seungho to face the truth: Kim is a traitor and the king is the pedophile. The vision is indicating that the butler will betray him again in the future, backstab him one more time… However, this time he will recognize his action. Why? Because this time, there is light in the room… as Baek Na-Kyum symbolizes the Yeouiju, the fallen star helping the dragon. If the author presents another dream from the main lead, we will definitely get new clues. And this brings me to the following conclusion:

Yoon Seungho had been portrayed as a bird of misfortune on purpose. (chapter 86) In reality, he was a dragon, who could bring luck and fortune to the person who would cherish him. This is no coincidence that the pedophile sent hanboks with the crane (chapter 34), (chapter 45) In his eyes, the main lead brought him luck, as all his wishes got fulfilled, and he was never caught committing a sacrilege or crimes. However, since the presence of Baek Na-Kyum by Yoon Seungho’s side, it looks like nothing is going like planned. The main lead is not only drifting more and more away from him, he even left everything behind. That’s the reason why I believe that the dragon, the king, will vent his anger on many people in season 4, a new version of this scene. (chapter 30), but much more brutal and violent!  While this “dragon”, the king, stands for court, and as such civilization and immobility, the Korean dragon embodies nature and hope for commoners who dreamt of ascending the ranks! This is not surprising that Baek Na-Kyum is slowly ascending the ranks, while in the past Kim was acting as the unofficial lord of the Yoons’ mansion.

As a conclusion, in season 4, expect a battle between an “imoogi” and dragons. In addition, it becomes obvious that the winners will be our beloved couple. Since Yoon Seungho was turned into a “dragon”, I am more than ever convinced that he will act like in season 1: confident, perceptive, smart and cheerful! He can not longer be used like a pawn, for the “dragon” can not be tamed! And removing the falling star would signify the dragon’s death!

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