Please support the authors by reading Manhwas on the official websites. This is where you can read the Manhwa: Jinx But be aware that the Manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. Here is the link of the table of contents about Jinx. Here is the link where you can find the table of contents of analyzed Manhwas. Here are the links, if you are interested in the first work from Mingwa, BJ Alex, and the 2 previous essays about Jinx Between A Squeeze And A Crack – part 1 and Between A Squeeze And A Crack – part 2
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Where is a Flower in Episode 88?
Episode 88 of Jinx immediately drew readers’ attention to two moments in particular: the training session between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung 
(chapter 88), and the final panel hinting at an imminent confrontation with Choi Heesung. 
(chapter 88) Discussions largely revolved around physical proximity, discipline, and anticipation — around bodies in motion and the promise of conflict to come. At first glance, the episode seemed to oscillate between intimacy and tension 
(chapter 88), between preparation 
(chapter 88) and interruption 
(chapter 88).
Only on closer reading does another layer emerge — one that does not oppose these moments, but reframes them. The training session is not merely about discipline or proximity, and the final panel is not only a promise of confrontation. Both scenes 
(chapter 88) are structured around restraint (chapter 88): what is held back 
(chapter 88), delayed, or redirected. Words are measured, authority is redistributed, and decisions are deferred 
(chapter 88) rather than imposed. What initially appears as physical intensity and narrative suspense begins to reveal a deeper reconfiguration of roles, responsibility, and choice.
At first glance, the title may seem paradoxical. The episode takes place a few weeks after October 
(chapter 70)—most likely in November— in late autumn. 
(chapter 88) This temporal setting is visually reinforced by the environment itself: in the opening sequence marked “a few weeks later,” the tree is already bare, its leaves gone. Nature offers no spontaneous image of growth or renewal. If a flower were to appear in this chapter, it couldn’t belong to the season. It must be cultivated, protected, and sustained in a green house—something that emerges not from natural abundance, but from deliberate care. So where does this idea of a flower come from?
Closed Circuits and the Logic of the Number Eight
The title emerged from a visual and structural observation. Chapter 88 is built around the number eight: a chapter defined by two closed circuits that finally cross. Remember how I described the relationship of the main couple in the essay 
: a closed circuit which we could witness once again in the training room: 
(chapter 88) There are once again sparks between them. The number 8 is not just related to doc Dan [for more read The Magic Of Numbers ] and his relationship with the athlete, but also to the other couple: Heesung and Yoon-Gu. This means, the latter represent the other closed circuit. Hence the other couple appeared in episode 35 and 58. 
(chapter 58) Two trajectories —long separated, repeatedly missing one another—intersect at last. When two eights overlap, they form neither a loop nor a knot, but a new shape: a flower-like figure, suggestive of opening rather than closure. This crossing does not resolve everything; instead, it creates the conditions for growth for all the characters. We could say that each closed circuit forms two petals so that their interaction with each other will affect them positively.
Color as Emotional Structure
The flower, however, is not only numerical or temporal. It is also chromatic. A flower is never defined by form alone, but by shading—by gradients, transitions, and the coexistence of multiple tones within a single structure. Thus in French certain flowers serve to define pigments: rose for pink, violet for purple. In this sense, episode 88 does not merely contain colors; it behaves like a flower unfolding through shades. Episode 88 is saturated with color: pink
(chapter 88), white 
(chapter 88) purple 
(chapter 88), blue, gray, 
, (chapter 88) red (chapter 88) and black 
(chapter 88) Pink frames tenderness and mutual awkwardness; purple marks embarrassment and heightened awareness; red signals suppressed anger and looming confrontation; black absorbs fear, silence, and unresolved tension.
White, notably associated with Park Namwook, carries a more ambivalent meaning. (chapter 88) It evokes innocence on the surface, but also ignorance—an unexamined moral comfort that allows him to retreat from responsibility while claiming authority. His lightness contrasts sharply with the weight of the decision he refused to make: visually underlined by the black-lined spiral hovering near his head—an emblem of irritation without accountability.
Blue and gray dominate the scene in which Joo Jaekyung announces his seemingly excessive training demands. (chapter 88) On the surface, the atmosphere feels cold and authoritarian. Yet the exaggeration itself reveals something else: the demand is deliberately absurd, almost teasing. Joo Jaekyung is testing resolve, not imposing punishment. The joke —visible thanks to the chibi and the brief spark within the athlete’s gaze— goes unnoticed. No one laughs. The room’s muted colors reflect this misrecognition—care and fun are present, but not yet legible to those receiving it.
At first glance, the setting itself seems to resist any floral reading. (chapter 88) The scene unfolds not in nature, but in a gym in Seoul—an urban, enclosed space associated with discipline, repetition, and control rather than growth or renewal. This tension may explain the readers’ initial surprise: a flower appears where one would expect only concrete, steel, and hierarchy. Yet in Jinx, the flower does not belong to nature as landscape, but to nature as process—to emergence, care, and relational change.
This process is not introduced through scenery, but through bodies marked by green. And the latter symbolizes nature. In episode 88, two characters 
(chapter 88) are dressed in green (chapter 88), a choice that appears unobtrusive—almost practical—yet is unmistakable within Mingwa’s chromatic language. Green here does not function as pure nature or renewal, but as transition: a sign of growth that is still constrained, negotiated, and incomplete. It is not a vivid, liberating green, but a muted one—ranging from green sheen to subdued olive—closer to endurance than vitality, to steadiness rather than expansion. Growth is present, but it has not yet broken free; it remains embedded in effort, restraint, and adaptation.
Crucially, this shorts’ shade recalls the photograph of Kim Dan with his grandmother 
(chapter 19), where green and floral elements once functioned as a silent language of care and containment. The repetition is not accidental. By wearing a similar tone in the present, Kim Dan does not merely revisit the past; he carries it forward. (chapter 88) The color no longer signifies dependency or shelter alone, but continuity of self. It marks a return to an inner disposition that predates trauma—a self capable of care, persistence, and quiet resilience. This means that he is closer to his true self.
Placed within the gym’s dominant blues and grays, this green does not signal leisure or escape. It signals cultivation. Growth here is neither spontaneous nor decorative; it must be trained, maintained, and protected. The flower does not bloom despite the city—it blooms through care, discipline and recognition. What initially appears paradoxical becomes coherent: in Jinx, growth is not opposed to structure. It is shaped by it.
From Flower to Language: Communication Deferred
Crucially, the flower also functions as a metaphor for communication. (chapter 19) Flowers are not passive decorations; they carry meaning, intent, and symbolism. The background is composed of hydrangeas in blue, pink, and pale violet—colors traditionally associated with gratitude, tenderness, apology, and emotional nuance.
Unlike roses 
(chapter 35), which tend to assert a singular message (love, passion, beauty), hydrangeas communicate multiplicity and emotional ambivalence; they speak in clusters rather than declarations. This visual language mirrors Kim Dan’s inner world at the time (chapter 19): affection entwined with dependency and sorrow, care mixed with silence, love present but unspoken.
This chromatic memory resurfaces later through a different floral gesture: the bouquet Choi Heesung offers Kim Dan —pink roses paired with baby’s breath 
(chapter 31). Here, the symbolism shifts. Pink roses convey affection and admiration, while baby’s breath suggests innocence and fragility. Yet the arrangement is excessive, overwhelming, and mismatched to its recipient. The bouquet does not listen; it speaks at Kim Dan rather than with him. Significantly, Heesung comes to associate Kim Dan himself with the flower—something delicate, beautiful, and deserving of protection, but also something to be handled, displayed, and possessed.
Episode 88 reframes this logic entirely. The “birth of a flower” no longer refers to being perceived as fragile or decorative, but to a return to growth from within. 
(chapter 88) Kim Dan’s green training clothes—visually echoing the green shirt he wore in the photograph with his grandmother—signal continuity rather than regression. This is not a retreat into childhood dependency, but the reappearance of an inner child now disentangled from obligation and fear. The flower that reemerges here is not gifted, not arranged, not imposed—it grows. In this sense, episode 88 introduces a missing element in the dynamic between the two protagonists: not desire, not care, but communication. And it is here that Choi Heesung becomes central—not as a rival or antagonist, but as a structural bridge, as in reality he represents the rose, “La vie en rose” 
. He embodies speech, playfulness, and visibility, yet also reveals their limits when they are severed from responsibility and respect. I will elaborate about this more below.
The illustration accompanying this essay includes a fifth, shadowed petal inspired by the Mugunghwa—the Rose of Sharon, a national symbol of Korea often associated with endurance, justice, and continuity. This fifth petal does not yet fully bloom. It signals something incomplete, something still forming: a question of justice, choice, and mutual recognition that the narrative has only begun to articulate.
Finally, this essay reads episode 88 through the lens of Erich Fromm’s definition of love—care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge. For me, these 4 notions are represented by the 4 petals. In this chapter, Joo Jaekyung visibly embodies care, responsibility, and a growing respect for others’ autonomy. What remains absent is knowledge: a true understanding of Kim Dan’s inner life, just as Kim Dan himself has yet to fully understand Jaekyung beyond his role and past. The flower, then, is not the endpoint. It is the beginning of a process in which these missing elements may finally emerge.
What follows is not an analysis of victory or defeat, but of growth—quiet, fragile, and cultivated under constraint. This is not the celebration of happiness already achieved 
(chapter 88), but the moment in which the conditions for happiness are finally put into place. And now let me ask you this. What is the symbol of happiness? Smiles and laughs. During the training session, Kim Dan smiles. These moments are brief 
(chapter 88) and goes unnoticed by him (chapter 88) and his fated partner, yet it directly answers what Joo Jaekyung has repeatedly expressed as his desire: to be the source for Kim Dan’s smile and to smile together. 
(chapter 83) What is striking is that neither of them recognizes this fulfillment. (chapter 88) Kim Dan does not register his own smile as happiness, and Joo Jaekyung does not realize that he is already producing what he seeks. As elsewhere in Jinx, happiness precedes awareness. It exists before it is acknowledged—by both sides.That’s why I selected the title: the flower embodies happiness, as its life is just as short as happiness. 
(chapter 31)
A. Joo Jaekyung × Kim Dan: The First two Petals
The training sequence in episode 88 cannot be read as a simple exercise scene, nor as a sudden moment of equality or mutual play. It is, instead, the continuation of a long-standing relational pattern in which care is expressed indirectly (chapter 88), asymmetrically, and through the only language both characters know how to use: work. 
(chapter 88) What appears at first glance as coercion 
(chapter 88) or discipline is in fact a negotiation shaped by habit, fear of burdening the other, and an inability—on both sides—to articulate desire outside professional roles.
1. How the training is suggested: care disguised as necessity
Crucially, the idea of training does not emerge in the gym itself. It is first introduced in the car 
(chapter 88), a space that is never neutral in Jinx. A car has one driver, one direction, one authority. By placing the conversation there, Mingwa signals that the relationship is still structurally asymmetrical at this point: Joo Jaekyung leads, Kim Dan follows.
Joo Jaekyung frames the proposal as a matter of stamina and work. (chapter 88) Training will help him in his career. This framing is not accidental. Joo Jaekyung does not yet know how to say: “I want to spend time with you“, or “I’m afraid you won’t be safe, once you leave my side“. He knows only how to justify closeness through usefulness. Training becomes a rational excuse for proximity, a legitimate reason to demand time without admitting emotional dependence.
At the same time, this proposal is deeply protective. Joo Jaekyung has seen Kim Dan collapse from exhaustion in the past. He knows his physical limits better than Kim Dan himself. 
(chapter 88) Secondly, such a training suggests that the athlete is gradually remembering this scene of the almost-rape. (chapter 88) In his subconscious, he knows that this was not prostitution. 
(chapter 17) Therefore it is not surprising that instead of asking permission or explaining concern, he imposes the idea—because that is how he has learned to act as a captain, a fighter, and later a manager. Authority precedes dialogue. (chapter 88)
2. The first refusal: self-neglect disguised as strength
Kim Dan’s first response is immediate: (chapter 88) He refuses. This is not politeness. It is not consideration for Joo Jaekyung’s fatigue. It is a reflex rooted in long-standing self-erasure. Kim Dan genuinely believes he is strong enough. More importantly, he believes that needing care is illegitimate.
This refusal is governed by habit:
- the habit of minimizing himself,
- the habit of overestimating endurance,
- the habit of believing that receiving attention makes him a burden.
At this stage, Kim Dan is not yet protecting Joo Jaekyung; he is protecting the structure that allows him to remain useful and unobtrusive. Accepting training would mean admitting vulnerability—and worse, accepting time, effort, and concern directed at him.
The sportsman ignores this refusal. This moment is important because it reveals both the problem and the intention. Joo Jaekyung acts like a parental figure, not a partner. He overrides consent not out of cruelty, but out of conviction that he knows better. His care still takes the form of command. This explicates why the physical therapist’s agreement is accompanied with a drop of a sweat. “Okay” indicates more discomfort than joy and gratitude. He doesn’t feel indebted toward the athlete, rather embarrassed.
Thus the asymmetry is intact. The training is not born out of his own desire.
3. The pause: time passing, resistance softening
Striking is that this conversation is revealed, after the champion asked doc Dan to get changed. 
(chapter 88) In other words, the request from Joo Jaekyung appears as a memory from the physical therapist. Why? 
(chapter 88) Because Mingwa refuses the “clean” sequence in which an order is issued and immediately executed. The narration inserts a gap—an interval of off-panel time that we are forced to reconstruct from Kim Dan’s recall. (chapter 88) The narrative does not jump immediately into physical training, because the temporal gap is supposed to mirror the time jump as well. There were other training sessions. This temporal gap matters. The doctor’s inner thoughts (chapter 88) “I guess we’re doing it today, too…” implies routine without inner desire and daily regularity. This means that the training sessions only took place, when the champion asked doc Dan to change his clothes. Doc Dan was not looking forward for the training sessions or reminded the athlete of his promise or request.
That pause changes the meaning of consent and compliance. If the scene were immediate, Kim Dan’s earlier refusal (“Oh no, thank you, I can manage—”) would read as a clear boundary and Joo Jaekyung’s “Just do as I say” as a straightforward override. (chapter 88) But because the chapter returns to the topic through memory, the refusal is not portrayed as a decisive line—rather, it becomes the first phase of a negotiation Kim Dan does not yet know how to conduct. His resistance softens not because he suddenly “wants” the training, but because habit takes over: he is used to accommodating authority, used to re-framing his own limits as irrelevant, used to translating pressure into “normal.” The break between the command and the actual session is precisely where that old reflex does its quiet work.
By the time they appear in the practice room, Kim Dan is showing no hesitation. He is training eagerly. 
(chapter 88) Instead Kim Dan no longer insists on his own sufficiency. He no longer says “I can manage., but doc Dan admits not only his own lacking. 
(chapter 88), but also his own desire. He finally expresses his desire to improve, to learn more.
This admission marks a decisive internal shift. In earlier chapters, “I can manage” functioned as a shield: a way to deny need and avoid dependence. Here, Kim Dan allows himself to recognize that improvement exists precisely because limits existed before. The champion’s explicit comparison with the past 
(chapter 88) creates a temporal bridge that enables this recognition. Only once change is named from the outside can Kim Dan cautiously acknowledge it from within.
At the same time, this acknowledgment remains fragile. Kim Dan does not fully accept the implications of Joo Jaekyung’s praise. (chapter 88) His response — “I still have a lot to learn” — both accepts growth and reinscribes distance. He recognizes the fighter’s effort and dedication, yet still fears relying on the athlete’s benevolence. (chapter 88) This is why he immediately reframes the future in terms of independence: he will “keep up the training on [his] own.” Gratitude is present, but it remains incomplete, protective rather than connective. He still experiences himself as a potential burden. But why?
It’s because he tried to care for the athlete in his own way by suggesting a rest, but the champion denied it. 
(chapter 88) The problem is that his form of care was influenced by his own mindset and emotions: his physical limitations.
This attempt at care fails not because it is insincere, but because it is misaligned. Kim Dan does not ask whether Joo Jaekyung wants to rest; he assumes that rest must be what is needed, because that is what he himself would need in the same situation. His concern is genuine, yet it is filtered through his own bodily limits and emotional economy. Fatigue, for him, is something that must be managed cautiously, avoided, negotiated. When he encounters a body that does not obey those rules — a body that still has stamina, that refuses the logic of depletion — his offer of care is quietly rejected.
This rejection is decisive. It reveals a gap Kim Dan cannot yet bridge: the realization that Joo Jaekyung’s needs do not mirror his own. (chapter 88) The athlete does not require rest in the same way, and more importantly, he does not articulate his needs through physical exhaustion at all. What Kim Dan fails to perceive is that the training itself is Joo Jaekyung’s way of staying regulated, present, and emotionally grounded. It is also his source of joy. By denying the necessity of rest, the champion is not dismissing care; he is refusing a form of care that does not correspond to him.
Confronted with this mismatch, Kim Dan retreats. If his attempt to care is ineffective, then the safest response is to minimize his demands. This is where gratitude hardens into distance. He thanks Joo Jaekyung for his help with a smile, acknowledges his progress, and immediately insists on autonomy: he will continue alone. The logic is protective. If he does not rely, he cannot burden. If he does not ask, he cannot be refused again.
What emerges here is not self-confidence, but a familiar defense. Kim Dan is not asserting independence from strength; he is withdrawing from uncertainty. His insistence on training alone does not signal rejection of connection, but fear of asymmetry — fear that he cannot offer something equivalent in return. Because he interprets care primarily through physical effort and endurance, he cannot yet recognize that his presence, attention, and willingness to engage already matter.
In this sense, the moment exposes the limits of projection. Kim Dan’s care is sincere, but it remains anchored in his own survival strategies. Until he can decouple care from exhaustion, and need from weakness, he will continue to misread situations where what is required is not restraint, but accompaniment. The training, then, is not only about building strength. It is the first site where Kim Dan begins to confront the possibility that care does not always flow from managing limits — but sometimes from staying, even when one feels unnecessary.
This is significant. It shows that Kim Dan is beginning to speak, but still cannot speak for himself. His old habit remains: if something feels wrong, it must be because the other person needs rest, not because he is tired, scared, or overwhelmed. In other words, care is emerging—but it is displaced.
This is precisely why the gesture that follows (chapter 88) carries such weight. For the first time in this exchange, care is directed back at Kim Dan without condition. It is not framed as instruction, correction, or evaluation. It is neither command nor test. It is a simple, protective statement that mirrors Kim Dan’s earlier concern — but without projection. Joo Jaekyung does not deny Kim Dan’s limits. He acknowledges them. There is no reproach, only concern. 
(chapter 88)
Here, the asymmetry softens without disappearing. Joo Jaekyung remains physically dominant, emotionally inarticulate, and structurally in control of the situation. Yet the direction of care shifts. He does not accept Kim Dan’s attempt to exit the dynamic under the guise of independence. Instead, he counters it with responsibility: you matter enough to be protected. The pinky promise that visually accompanies this exchange reinforces the meaning. Promises in Jinx have often functioned as burdens or traps — obligations that freeze people in place. This one is different. It does not demand performance. It does not extract sacrifice. It asks only for self-preservation. (chapter 88)
This is where the flower begins to appear — not as harmony, not as symmetry, but as mutual misrecognition slowly correcting itself. Kim Dan still does not fully grasp that Joo Jaekyung’s desire to train him is also a desire to spend time with him. Joo Jaekyung, in turn, still cannot articulate that desire outside the language of work. (chapter 88) Training becomes the only acceptable medium through which closeness can occur. Pleasure and intimacy surface unintentionally — in teasing, in competition, in shared breath — but remain unnamed.
Crucially, this is not rigidity. It is habit. Both men operate within deeply ingrained routines shaped by survival rather than joy. Rest, breaks, and leisure have only ever been framed in relation to the champion’s career: recovery after injury, distraction after stress, sanctioned release after pressure. They know how to stop working; they do not know how to share fun. There is no vocabulary yet for casual togetherness — no restaurant, no cinema, no idle wandering. Training fills the gap because it is the only space where proximity feels justified.
Thus, the training is neither purely imposed nor fully shared. It begins as Joo Jaekyung’s initiative, shaped by authority and concern, but it gradually becomes a site where Kim Dan starts to renegotiate his self-image. By acknowledging both his limits and his desire to improve, Kim Dan takes a first step away from the logic of endurance alone. He still retreats into self-sufficiency, but the retreat is no longer absolute. He speaks more. He hesitates less. He accepts care, even if he cannot yet rely on it.
The flower here is not bloom, but formation. It is the slow emergence of a relationship that must unlearn the equation between care and burden, strength and isolation, desire and duty. Nothing is resolved. But something has shifted: care is no longer one-directional, even when it remains uneven. And for the first time, both characters participate — imperfectly, awkwardly, but genuinely — in sustaining it.
4. Where pleasure enters—and why it is unspoken
As the training progresses, something shifts subtly. Joo Jaekyung smiles 
(chapter 88). He teases. (chapter 88) He challenges. He praises: 
(chapter 88)
These are not neutral compliments. They are moments where discipline slips into enjoyment. Joo Jaekyung is no longer training only to prepare Kim Dan for a future without him; he is enjoying the present interaction. And yet, he cannot name this enjoyment.
Pleasure appears within work, not alongside it. Intimacy emerges through exertion 
(chapter 88), not rest. Thus the doctor mistakes the embrace for a technique and not the expression of love. 
(chapter 88) And observe that the athlete still refuses to express the true meaning of his hug. His explanation still remains technical, defensive, and strategically framed:
(chapter 88) This sentence is crucial. It reduces contact to function. The closeness of bodies, the pressure of weight, the proximity of breath are translated into instruction. What could be acknowledged as reassurance or care is instead displaced into pedagogy. Joo Jaekyung does not deny intimacy; he relabels it.
What the image reinforces is not distance, but deferral. The focus on bodies — on interlocked legs, grounded feet, balanced weight — emphasizes control and stability rather than vulnerability. Affection is allowed to exist only when it can be defended as functional. The mount is maintained not because Joo Jaekyung wants to keep Kim Dan close, but because losing it would constitute failure.
And yet, the sequence immediately preceding this moment shows both characters acutely aware of their racing hearts,
(chapter 88) of breath held too long, of proximity charged with something unnamed. The technical explanation arrives after that awareness, not before it. This confirms that the instructional language functions as a shield — not against intimacy itself, but against having to speak it.
Yet the narrative immediately undermines this technical framing. 
(chapter 88) Directly after warning against lowering one’s guard, Joo Jaekyung kisses him.
The kiss is not furtive, accidental, or one-sided. Both characters are fully present. They look at each other. Neither pulls away. The contradiction is deliberate: the body does what the language refuses to acknowledge. Vigilance and intimacy coexist in the same gesture. The warning about control does not prevent closeness; it becomes the pretext through which closeness is allowed.
This is the crucial correction: Joo Jaekyung is not simply disguising intimacy as technique. He is containing it. The kiss does not negate the instructional frame; it slips through it. Pleasure is permitted only insofar as it does not require verbal recognition. Love is enacted, but not named.
For Kim Dan, this ambiguity poses no immediate problem. He has been kissed before. Physical intimacy is not new to him, and he has learned — through prior encounters — not to interrogate its meaning unless forced to do so. He does not question whether the kiss signifies affection, reassurance, desire, or attachment. Instead, he relocates intimacy spatially rather than emotionally. His only objection is not that the kiss happens, but where: (chapter 88) This line is telling. Kim Dan does not resist closeness itself. He resists its placement. Intimacy, in his understanding, belongs elsewhere — to the penthouse, to private space, to moments already coded as sexual or domestic. What unsettles him is not the kiss, but the fact that it occurs inside the domain of work.
In other words, Kim Dan does not yet read intimacy as something that can coexist with discipline. He accepts affection when it appears in designated zones, but not when it disrupts functional categories. The gym is a place of training; therefore, what happens there must remain legible as training. Joo Jaekyung’s technical explanation gives him exactly that permission.
This is why Kim Dan accepts the justification without protest. He does not reinterpret the embrace as love because he does not yet need to. The structure remains intact: work is work, intimacy is intimacy, and when the two overlap, the overlap is attributed to technique rather than feeling.
In this sense, Joo Jaekyung’s restraint protects both of them. It protects Kim Dan from having to reinterpret the gesture emotionally, and it protects Joo Jaekyung from articulating feelings he has no vocabulary for outside the grammar of training. Care is real, but its meaning is postponed. Love is present, but encoded as vigilance.
This postponement explains why the “flower” has not yet opened. It exists, but inwardly folded. Growth is happening, but it is constrained by the only relational language both men currently share: effort, endurance, correction, control.
They know how to train together.
They know how to recover.
They know how to endure crisis.
They know obligation.
They do not yet know how to choose pleasure together — how to eat, rest, shop, watch a movie, or enjoy time without purpose. Even their earlier “break” at the amusement park existed because Joo Jaekyung needed rest, not because they mutually chose leisure. Fun, like intimacy, has always been instrumental.
What episode 88 reveals is not the absence of love, but its confinement. Pleasure appears — undeniably — yet remains untranslated. Sensation does not yet become knowledge. The flower is there, but it has not learned how to open outside the discipline that first allowed it to grow.
5. The slow reversal: from imposed care to accepted challenge
The most important moment comes when Kim Dan manages to reverse positions and pin Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 88) The shock and joy are mutual. Joo Jaekyung is genuinely surprised. Kim Dan is genuinely proud—though he barely allows himself to register it. (chapter 88) This is not equality yet. But it is the first time Kim Dan experiences himself as capable, not merely compliant. The training that began as imposed authority becomes a shared test and experience. Importantly, Kim Dan did not ask for this moment. It emerged because he stayed. This stands in opposition to the sparring in front of the fighters. 
(chapter 26) Back then, Doc Dan had accepted the challenge due to Potato, though deep down he desired to have the champion as his teacher. 
(chapter 25) That’s how it dawned on me that doc Dan has gradually taken over Yoon-Gu’s previous place at the gym. He is an “unofficial member” of Team Black. Thus he mops the floor and Yoon-Gu is not there to stop him or reclaim this position. 
(chapter 88) Yoon-Gu’s position within the gym has improved. He is now considered as a real fighter.
6. Where the flower is
If the previous sections trace a movement, this final observation names its limit. To understand why the flower in episode 88 has only begun to appear, it is necessary to return to Erich Fromm’s definition of love, which rests on four inseparable elements: care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge. [For more read:“The Art Of Loving” (locked)] Love, in this framework, does not exist where only one or two of these are present. It requires all four to be active at once in order to become sustaining, conscious, and mutual.
Episode 88 makes one thing unmistakably clear: in the relationship between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan, three of these elements are already in place. One is not.
Care is not what this relationship lacks. (chapter 88) Joo Jaekyung’s care is visible throughout the episode, even when it is expressed awkwardly or through misdirection. His insistence on training, his attention to Kim Dan’s stamina, his refusal to let Kim Dan dismiss his own physical limits (chapter 88), and his final reminder to “take good care of yourself” all belong to the same logic. This care is protective and practical, but it is still delivered under the cover of training—phrased as guidance, risk-management, and performance maintenance rather than as attachment. He is capable of saying “take care,” but he still cannot say what the care ultimately means: I want you close; I worry about losing you; I don’t know how to keep you besides making you stronger. For someone like Jaekyung, whose life has been organized around performance and endurance, this is the only available language of concern. Kim Dan, too, expresses care, though in a displaced form. He worries about Jaekyung’s exhaustion, (chapter 88), minimizes his own needs and tries not to become a burden. Care moves in both directions, even if it rarely reaches its intended target.
Responsibility is equally present, and equally heavy. Jaekyung assumes responsibility for Kim Dan’s safety and future (chapter 88), particularly in light of his own awareness that their time together is limited. The training is not arbitrary; it is oriented toward what comes after him. Kim Dan, meanwhile, takes responsibility in another way: by insisting on self-sufficiency (chapter 88), by promising to continue training on his own, by framing improvement as something he must manage independently. What stands out is that responsibility exists on both sides, but it is carried separately. Each assumes it alone, without yet allowing it to become shared.
Respect, too, is not absent. Jaekyung respects Kim Dan’s capacity to grow. (chapter 88) He challenges him not because he sees him as weak, but because he believes resistance is possible. (chapter 88) His praise, rare and restrained, signals recognition rather than indulgence. Kim Dan, in turn, respects Jaekyung’s discipline and endurance, sometimes to the point of idealization. This respect remains asymmetrical, but it is real. It has begun to shift from hierarchy toward recognition.
What is missing, and what keeps the flower from fully appearing, is knowledge—not information, not memory, but Fromm’s sense of active understanding of the other as a subject with inner needs, fears, and desires. In The Art of Loving, knowledge means seeing the other as they are, which requires two things at once:
- Honesty toward oneself (recognizing one’s own needs, fears, and desires), and
- Articulation toward the other (making that inner reality available rather than acting it out indirectly).
This is why words matter so much. Without words, care can exist, responsibility can exist, and even respect can exist — but they remain opaque. Joo Jaekyung knows exactly what he wants: time, proximity, continuity. He is acutely aware that his time with Kim Dan is running out. 
(chapter 88)
What he lacks is not intention, but translation and even courage. He does not know how to express his desire outside the vocabulary of work, discipline, and physical instruction. He can insist, challenge, and protect, but he cannot yet name why he does so. He still thinks, it is not possible to be loved due to his huge flaws and past wrongdoings. Kim Dan, on the other hand, does not yet know how to read care when it is not framed as sacrifice or obligation. He interprets insistence as burden, closeness as technique, affection as something that must be relocated elsewhere—into private space, into the penthouse, into moments that feel safer and more legible.
Their misunderstanding does not stem from a lack of feeling. It stems from a lack of confidence and shared language. Love is enacted rather than understood. Care, responsibility, and respect circulate between them, but knowledge—the capacity to see and articulate the other’s inner reality—has not yet entered the relationship. The reason is that both underestimate themselves. Thus both don’t speak the truth. This is why the flower in episode 88 is real but incomplete. It exists in the slow shift from refusal to engagement, from habit-driven self-denial to cautious participation. It exists in the fact that Kim Dan accepts the training not because he must, but because he begins to recognize the results from Jaekyung’s effort and insistence. He gradually accepts that Joo Jaekyung is genuinely concerned about him. He is gradually enjoying this, thus he voices his desire to learn more. Another problem is that both still think, they know each other. They have not recognized the importance of “words” and “honesty” yet. Nevertheless until knowledge emerges—until what is enacted can also be spoken—the flower remains folded inward. Not absent. Not broken. Simply unfinished.
Heesung × Potato: The Other Two Petals — Knowledge Without Responsibility
If the bond between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan exposes a surplus of care constrained by poor articulation, the dynamic between Heesung and Potato reveals the opposite imbalance:: knowledge without responsibility, and therefore without respect. The actor is able to express his thoughts and emotions all the time, yet he is not taking Potato’s feelings and thoughts into consideration. Thus he simply asks Yoon-Gu to hold the mitts and not be his sparring partner. (chapter 88) The way the “gumiho” speaks to the chow-chow is quite telling. He expects an agreement. Striking is that the young fighter doesn’t agree to the actor’s request, he answers with another question: “You don’t need a sparring partner?”. This question reveals that Yoon-Gu had already imagined himself differently. He had pictured a future moment in which he would not merely assist the actor’s training, but share it. In other words, he had already crossed an internal threshold: from helper to potential partner. The question exposes a private projection — a hope — that had not yet been verbalized until this moment.
That is why this exchange marks Yoon-Gu’s transformation. That’s why he is wearing a olive green sweater. (chapter 88) Olive green is not the vivid green of aspiration or idealization, nor the cold institutional green associated with discipline and hierarchy. It is a grounded, muted green — a color of transition. Symbolically, it sits between admiration and autonomy. By wearing it at this moment, Yoon-Gu visually signals a shift away from the champion’s gravitational pull. He is no longer oriented upward, toward an untouchable figure, but sideways, toward a peer relationship he is beginning to imagine. The green does not announce arrival; it marks movement. Growth here is not explosive but cautious, uneven, and still uncertain.
Crucially, this transformation does not stem from insecurity. Yoon-Gu is not suffering from low self-esteem. On the contrary, he speaks easily, moves freely, and voices his expectations without hesitation. What he lacks is not confidence, but self-awareness. He does not yet understand the structure he is entering, nor the asymmetry embedded in it. He mistakes proximity for reciprocity, access for acknowledgment. And the chow chow’s lack of self-awareness is also present, when he imagined that he could have followed to the amusement park. 
(chapter 87) For him, this trip was related to work, while in reality it was a date in disguise.
This becomes clearer when contrasted with the main couple. Between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung, communication is constrained, indirect, and often misaligned, as both are suffering from a low self-esteem and their past traumas. Desires are hidden behind habit, duty, or technical language. By contrast, the dialogue between Yoon-Gu and Choi Heesung is strikingly explicit. Both second leads speak readily. They articulate preferences, make requests, and voice dissatisfaction without visible hesitation. The only difference is that Heesung allows misunderstanding to persist. Joo Jaekyung abruptly corrects it. Neither approach is emotionally generous—but only one produces shock rather than slow erosion.
To conclude, this apparent fluency masks a deeper problem. What is missing here is not expression, but reflection.
Earlier, Yoon-Gu’s actions were shaped by obligation, imitation, or conditional promises (cleaning the floor, holding equipment or a bottle, proving usefulness). Here, the initiative is internal. He is no longer reacting to instructions; he is testing the possibility of recognition. (chapter 88) The desire precedes permission.
The tragedy of the moment lies not in the refusal itself, but in how it is answered. Heesung does not respond to the desire embedded in the question. He bypasses it with a technical explanation — size difference — which neutralizes the emotional risk Yoon-Gu has taken. 
(Chapter 88) The answer restores hierarchy without acknowledging the transformation that has already occurred. Secondly, the answer closes the future by appealing to a supposedly objective limit. Yoon-Gu can never be his sparring partner. The best he can do is hold the mitts and nothing more. The fox is using his seniority and body to have the final say.
This is where Heesung’s pride in knowing turns into arrogance. His explanation contradicts the very logic that governs the gym itself. Joo Jaekyung has just demonstrated explicitly that technique outweighs physical size, that discipline and practice can reverse power relations. 
(chapter 88) Under that framework, Yoon-Gu is not disqualified; he is qualified. He has trained. He belongs. So technically, Yoon-Gu could indeed beat the actor, as the “puppy” has trained for a long time at Team Black.
Yet Heesung’s knowledge is not grounded in the present conditions of Team Black. It is grounded on his past experience: he received special training from Joo Jaekyung. In other words, he is biased. Heesung prides himself on knowing. 
(special episode 1) He knows people’s patterns. 
(special episode 1) He knows how relationships fail. 
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 33) He knows what he does not want. His language is saturated with judgment shaped by past experiences: lovers who become “too clingy,” attachments that turn inconvenient, people who should remain “better off” elsewhere 
(chapter 58). This knowledge is not neutral; it is retrospective and comparative. It is built from what has disappointed him before, and it governs how he evaluates others in the present. He views himself as superior to the champion morally.
This is where the symbolism of the “grass being greener on the other side” becomes essential. 
(chapter 33) Heesung’s orientation is never toward what is unfolding, but toward what might be better elsewhere—another partner, another configuration, another future. His repeated invocation of a “soulmate” is revealing: it displaces intimacy into a hypothetical horizon. By looking at the grass, he is overlooking the flower. Love, for him, is something to be found later, once the conditions are ideal. What exists now is always provisional, always lacking, always subject to replacement. He needs the “perfect” lover, and in his eyes, Potato doesn’t meet his conditions: too innocent and too young. 
(special episode 1) This explicates why the young fighter is only considered as “fuck buddy”. 
(special episode 1)
Potato exists precisely within this gap. Because he wanted to take responsibility. 
(special episode 1), he is present, available, even emotionally invested—but he is never treated as sufficient. He is smaller (chapter 88), younger and as such less experienced, he is positioned as someone who does not yet qualify as a sparring partner, or even less as a boyfriend. Observe how he presented his relationship to doc Dan. 
(chapter 58) Heesung’s use of the pronoun “we” is, on the surface, inclusive. Linguistically, it frames his relationship with Potato as mutual, shared, and consensual. But pragmatically, it does the opposite. The “we” is spoken over Potato’s head, not with him. Thus Potato is physically present but discursively absent. He does not confirm, nuance, or reciprocate the statement verbally. The pronoun thus becomes a rhetorical appropriation rather than a sign of partnership.
What makes the remark particularly uncomfortable is the context: Heesung is not speaking to Potato, but to Kim Dan. The sentence is not meant to communicate within the relationship; it is meant to display the relationship to a third party. In that sense, “we” functions as a prop. It allows Heesung to stage intimacy without assuming responsibility for how that staging affects the person he claims to include. He is not saying that he is dating Yoon-Gu either. In other words, he is behaving like Joo Jaekyung in season 1. 
(chapter 31) He denies the existence of feelings and attachment.
The embarrassment of Potato is not accidental. It is structurally produced by the asymmetry of the situation. Heesung controls the narrative, the tone, and the implication. By adding “in more ways than one,” he sexualizes the bond implicitly, while maintaining plausible deniability. Nothing explicit is said; everything is insinuated. This is knowledge without accountability. Heesung knows exactly how the line will land—on Kim Dan, and on Potato—but he does not take responsibility for either impact.
On the other hand, Heesung feels so comfortable around doc Dan, that he is willing to divulge more. He assumes Kim Dan will “understand” him. He is speaking in a coded register, relying on shared cultural assumptions: that closeness implies sexuality, that sexuality implies connection. In doing so, he treats Kim Dan as a potential ally in interpretation, not as a moral interlocutor. He expects recognition, perhaps even complicity, rather than reprimand or judgment.
This is where the contrast with Joo Jaekyung becomes sharp. Joo Jaekyung struggles to name intimacy and often hides it behind work or discipline—but he does not instrumentalize language to control 
(special episode 1) or humiliate the other. 
(chapter 34) Heesung, by contrast, is fluent. He can name, joke, insinuate. What he lacks is restraint and responsibility. His ease with words does not signal emotional intelligence; it signals control.
Heesung does not call Yoon-Gu weak outright, but the hierarchy is unmistakable: Potato is handled (chapter 88), redirected 
(special episode 2), corrected. (chapter 88) Even when Heesung intervenes on his behalf, it is not through shared responsibility but through dismissal—deciding what is best for him without asking what he truly wants.
This lack of responsibility is crucial. Responsibility, in Fromm’s sense, is not obligation imposed from above; it is the willingness to respond to the other as a subject whose needs and presence matter now. Heesung does not assume this stance. He neither commits nor withdraws cleanly. Instead, he hovers—knowing enough to judge, but refusing the burden of staying.
This explains why Heesung reacts so strongly to the relationship between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. He does not simply misunderstand it; he rejects it (chapter 31) because it violates his model of love. Doc Dan is not introduced or claimed as his boyfriend. For him, it is simply related to the athlete’s jinx. 
(chapter 32). It has no declared endpoint, no moral clarity (chapter 34), no soulmate label. Rather than engaging with what the relationship is doing —how it functions, how it transforms both participants—Heesung tries to name it away: a jinx, a mistake, a lack of feelings. Naming, here, becomes a defense against involvement.
The scene in the penthouse crystallizes this refusal. 
(chapter 34) Heesung enters fully aware of what he is likely to witness. He is not naïve, nor totally surprised. Hence he doesn’t flee right away. Yet instead of acknowledging the reality before him, Doc Dan is not someone the fighter fucks, until he passes out, (chapter 33), he reframes the encounter as an accusation. The man is crazy. 
(chapter 34) Joo Jaekyung becomes the problem, the one who “deserves to suffer.” 
(chapter 58) This moral displacement allows Heesung to maintain distance: if Jaekyung is guilty, then no self-examination is required. Forgiveness—central to this arc (from 79 to 89)—is rendered impossible, because forgiveness would require recognizing shared vulnerability rather than assigning blame.
Potato, by contrast, is repeatedly asked to adapt. Earlier, he cleans, waits 
(chapter 25), accepts deferral. Later, he is displaced entirely. Unlike Kim Dan, who gradually moves from imposed participation to earned agency, Potato is never given a space where effort leads to recognition. 
(chapter 85) However, this panel implies that the young man has already been able to enter competition. Striking is that his promise at the seaside sounds like commitment 
(chapter 59), but the reality diverges. It only binds doc Dan. If the latter returns to Seoul, he has to promise to train with Potato. The reason is simple. He is already committed to the actor, he is already at his beck and call. Potato’s promise echoes the earlier promise forced upon Kim Dan by his grandmother: a future-oriented vow that justifies present sacrifice while guaranteeing nothing in return. 
(chapter 11)
This is the structural tragedy of the Heesung–Potato dynamic. There is confidence and knowledge—sharp, observational, even insightful—but it is not paired with responsibility. And without responsibility, respect and care collapse into condescension. Potato is not met as an equal in becoming, but as someone perpetually not-yet-ready. While Yoon-Gu had been deeply affected by doc Dan’s departure. 
(chapter 78), he didn’t remind doc Dan of his promise. At the same time, observe that none of the fighters apologized or promised something. When they hugged the doctor, they didn’t pay attention to the physical therapist’s reaction: his passivity and silence. The “laugh” lacked genuineness and felt wrong at the time. 
(chapter 78)
But let’s return our attention to the petals Heesung and Potato. Placed beside Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan, the contrast is stark. Jaekyung lacks fluency, but not commitment. He does not know how to speak love, yet he stays. Heesung knows how to speak about dating and love, hence he offers a bouquet of roses. But he does not remain when love demands endurance rather than evaluation.
Secondly, Heesung embodies selfishness, which is also perceptible the way he appears at the gym. (Chapter 88) He had planned to use the gym without the champion’s consent and knowledge. And Potato was not expecting the presence of the main couple either. 
(Chapter 88) This is how it dawned on me why Mingwa recreated such a situation for Heesung. Observe his reaction, when he opened the door. He never answered the question to Potato. In fact, he slammed the door and kept his thoughts to himself. (chapter 88) As you can detect, he remained silent the whole time. It was, as though he was ignoring his lover.
What ultimately exposes the asymmetry in Heesung and Yoon-Gu’s relationship is not overt exploitation, but silence. Episode 88 stages this with remarkable precision. Heesung enters the gym without coordination (chapter 88), without consent from its owner, and without paying any visible cost. He does not announce himself as a guest, does not ask permission, and does not explain his presence. Instead, the intrusion is normalized through omission. Silence becomes the mechanism by which power circulates unnoticed.
Crucially, Yoon-Gu is excluded from the truth of the situation. Readers understand why Heesung is there; Yoon-Gu does not. The actor’s internal reaction (chapter 88) can be read as a moment of comic frustration. In fact, it reveals something far more consequential: this visit was never conceived as a shared activity with Yoon-Gu at all. The training session was not planned for him, nor with him. Yoon-Gu was not included as a subject in Heesung’s intention. He was a means.
This internal monologue exposes the logic of the intrusion. Heesung did not come to train with Yoon-Gu, nor to support him, nor to acknowledge his aspirations. He came to work off his own emotional agitation, to use the gym as a private outlet. Therefore it is not surprising that Yoon-Gu’s presence is reduced to him holding the mitts. His presence is incidental—useful, but not constitutive. When the situation threatens to escalate (chapter 88), Heesung does not think, What will happen to Yoon-Gu? He thinks only of himself: his inconvenience, his exposure, his embarrassment.
That omission is decisive. It confirms that Yoon-Gu is positioned not as a partner in training, but as an accessory to Heesung’s fitness and fun. He provides access, labor, and cover, yet remains excluded from knowledge and from choice. This mirrors an earlier pattern: just as Kim Dan once provided unpaid care under the guise of compensation
(chapter 32), Yoon-Gu now provides unpaid labor and institutional access under the guise of familiarity and generosity 
(chapter 35). In both cases, Heesung benefits from proximity without assuming responsibility for the other person’s risk. Silence, here, is not neutral—it is the mechanism by which that asymmetry is maintained.
At the same time, this regret (chapter 88) confirms that Heesung knows he has crossed a boundary. Yet this awareness produces no corrective action. He does not warn Yoon-Gu, does not acknowledge the risk he is creating for him, and does not assume responsibility for the consequences of being discovered. His concern remains entirely self-directed: embarrassment, inconvenience, exposure. Yoon-Gu’s position is not considered.
The irony is that this silence is beneficial for the chow chow . (chapter 88) It actively conceals Yoon-Gu’s complicity while simultaneously depending on it. Heesung could not have accessed the gym without Yoon-Gu. The most plausible inference is that Yoon-Gu provided entry—either by unlocking the space or by lending legitimacy to Heesung’s presence. Yet when the moment of confrontation approaches, Heesung does not speak. (chapter 88) He does not answer Yoon-Gu’s question—“Is there someone in there?”—because answering would reveal responsibility. Another important detail is that though Yoon-Gu provided the access, he simply followed the actor. The latter is the one opening the door to PT Room and not the member of Team Black. It exposes that the fox is really the one committing the wrongdoing, and he can not blame the chow chow for it.
Silence, here, is not absence of speech but a strategy of avoidance. (special episode 1) Heesung does not negotiate, explain, or repair. He doesn’t give any excuse. He moves through spaces as though access were guaranteed and consequences optional. However, this time, his silence is used against him. 
(chapter 88) Forgiveness, responsibility, and mutual recognition—central to the arc unfolding elsewhere—are entirely absent from his conduct. Where Joo Jaekyung begins to redistribute choice and accountability, Heesung consolidates control by refusing to speak.
This is why Heesung cannot embody forgiveness in this arc. Forgiveness requires acknowledgment; acknowledgment requires speech; speech requires responsibility. Heesung chooses none of these. Instead, he preserves his self-image by leaving others to absorb the impact of his actions. Yet, in episode 88, it is no longer possible.
In this sense, the flower associated with Heesung and Yoon-Gu never opens. Knowledge is present. While Heesung understands dynamics, motives, and outcomes, the chow chow heard all the information 
(chapter 52) about the switched spray, but he only reported one thing: Kim Dan is innocent. So while insight is present, responsibility is systematically deferred. Without responsibility, respect cannot follow. And without respect, what appears as connection is merely use, quietly sustained by silence.
In the end, the other two petals do not fail because of ignorance. They fail because knowledge, when severed from responsibility, becomes a tool of avoidance. Love is postponed indefinitely—always imagined, never practiced. On the other hand, since he knows about the champion’s past sexual habits, it signifies that the actor became the witness of TRUE LOVE. Joo Jaekyung is kissing doc Dan. 
(chapter 88) The irony is that the actor didn’t realize this. He had the impression to be exposed to a similar scene than in the penthouse. (chapter 88) It is important because with this knowledge, he can expose the truth to doc Dan: the athlete loves him. In the past, he could say this without explaining his statement. 
(chapter 35) And now, pay attention to the logo on the doctor’s t- shirt. 
(chapter 88) First, it appears on the left side, positioned close to the hamster’s heart. Moreover, it looks like an orange eye. Orange is not only the color of Heesung the fox 
(chapter 34), but also of friendship and social communication and interaction.
Orange Represents
Adventure and risk taking: Orange promotes physical confidence and enthusiasm – sportsmen and adventure-seekers relate well to orange.
Social communication and interaction: Orange stimulates two-way conversation between people – in a dining room when entertaining it stimulates conversation as well as appetite. Friendship: Group socializing, parties, the community – wherever people get together to have fun and socialize orange is a good choice.
Divorce: The optimism of the color orange helps people move on – it is forward thinking and outward thinking. https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/color-orange.html
That means, doc Dan is on the verge of having true friends. Joo Jaekyung will stop demanding exclusivity by isolating doc Dan from the others. 
(chapter 79) Besides, it is the same logo than when Yoon-Gu was spying behind the closed door.
(chapter 23) That’s the moment Potato realized the truth about the couple: they were intimate. That’s the reason why I am convinced that Heesung will play the role of the messenger and mediator between the wolf and the hamster.
To conclude, I perceive the actor as the bridge between the two main leads. He embodies language, knowledge, love as feeling, but more importantly he stands for friendship and fun, notions which don’t exist in the main couple’s world yet.
That’s it for the first part. In the second part, I will examine the final panel and the significance of the fighters’ return.
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(chapter 87), and the destruction of black glass under Baek Junmin’s foot. 
(chapter 87) Both moments operate under pressure, yet they belong to radically different economies. One gathers force inward to protect, contain, and care. The other expels force outward to fracture, dominate, and erase. The biggest difference is not intensity, but direction—and whether the other is held, or destroyed.
(chapter 87) He asks for strength and luck 
(chapter 87). Kim Dan answers with a gesture, the offered hand accompanied with a wish:
(chapter 87). Only then does the squeeze occur. Words initiate connection; the body confirms it. Speech and gesture align. Pressure becomes care.
(chapter 87) —but they are refused. Baek Junmin is denied any possibility of reply—no space to answer, to justify himself, or even to speak back. 
(chapter 87) The screen interposed between them 
(chapter 87) functions as both a physical and symbolic barrier: it delivers judgment without permitting response. Deprived of dialogue, Junmin is pushed out of language altogether. What remains available to him is not speech, but the body. His answer therefore does not come in words, but through the hand
(chapter 87) and then through the foot. 
(chapter 87) The violence is not misdirected; it is precisely directed at the medium that silences him. The screen is the site of exclusion, 
(chapter 87), before the challenge 
(chapter 87), the champion turns around.
(chapter 87) He looks—not at the crowd, not at the institution, but at Kim Dan. The gaze matters. It establishes a circuit. Like a phone call finally answered, it places both on the same wavelength. Only then does the question come. 
(chapter 87) Here again, language and body are aligned. 
(chapter 87) Kim Dan answers—first with a nod, then with words. The response is clear, immediate, and embodied. And what follows is decisive: the champion raises his arm. 
(chapter 87) 
(chapter 15) 
(chapter 40) 
(chapter 51), its meaning sharpens. For the first time, Kim Dan no longer occupies the position of fan or witness. He functions as judge and jury. 😮 And the champion acts accordingly. He declares himself the winner. 
(chapter 87) Joo Jaekyung is no longer a puppet or zombie, but a man with a heart and voice. 
(chapter 46) It regulates turn-taking, determines who may speak, in what order, and under which framing. As long as it remains in the moderator’s hand, speech is mediated, filtered, and contextualized. Questions lead; answers follow. Meaning circulates vertically.
(chapter 87) He no longer moderates; he reacts. He cannot redirect the statement, soften it, or translate it into spectacle. He can only acknowledge that something has escaped containment. The apology is not moral—it is procedural. It marks the moment the institution loses authorship. 
(chapter 57); he is narrating. He does not answer a question 
(chapter 14) Yet, CSPP 
appears more and more insistently 
(chapter 87), even in the cage
(chapter 87), contrary to before. 
(chapter 15) Either you only see the C or the name is placed out of the frame. 
(chapter 40) Yet it remains unexplained. What does it stand for in the world of Jinx? A sponsor? A broadcaster? The story never defines it explicitly—and that absence matters. What goes unnamed is often what exercises the most power. I will elaborate about it further.
(chapter 36) —depends on mediation. Delay. Scoring. Interpretation. The quiet redistribution of meaning after the fact. As long as nothing is said outright 
(chapter 69), control remains possible. Once speech becomes public, control becomes fragile.
(chapter 87), people in the seaside town, a public that exists before commentary can shape it.
(chapter 87) And the fight already answers the questions the system hopes to postpone. What we see in the cage is not merely a contest of strength, but a clash of communicative regimes. How one fights here is inseparable from how one speaks, evades, provokes, or withholds.
(chapter 87) His movement privileges distance, tempo 
(chapter 87) and visibility. That way he gives the impression that he is superior to the former champion. The middle kick appears not as a finishing tool 
(chapter 87), but as an instrument of disruption—enough to score, enough to interrupt rhythm, never enough to end the exchange. The rest of his offense follows the same logic: repeated punches to the face 
(chapter 87), the hands, the shoulder. Targets chosen not for collapse, but for points. Not to silence the opponent, but to keep him talking through damage. The choice of targets is not arbitrary. The hands and the shoulder are not neutral zones. They are sites of vulnerability that presuppose knowledge. Arnaud Gabriel does not fight, as if he were discovering his opponent in real time; he fights as if he were acting on prior information. 
(chapter 82) He anticipated a diminished MMA fighter at the end of his career who would train at the hotel gym. His punches repeatedly return to the same areas—not to finish, but to aggravate. Not to silence, but to extract fatigue.
(chapter 87) The shoulder carries the memory of surgery and recovery. The hands mediate both offense and defense; exhausting them degrades reach, timing, and confidence. And breathlessness 
(chapter 82)—noticed earlier during training—signals something even more fragile: limits that are physiological, not tactical.
(chapter 87) It aligns disturbingly well with what had already circulated outside the match: commentary about tension, exhaustion, time away from competition. Whether through media narratives, observation, or informal channels of intelligence, the opponent’s body has already been translated into information.
(chapter 47) Already discussed. Already framed. Gabriel’s reliance on point accumulation is inseparable from this logic. 
(chapter 87) He does not need to dominate the body; he needs to activate its known limits and let the scoring apparatus do the rest.
(chapter 87) —his decision to close distance, to counter decisively, to end the exchange rather than prolong it—appears less like impatience than resistance. He does not correct the narrative. He interrupts it.
(chapter 51) The fight is no longer about what happens between bodies, but about who controls evaluation. And that’s how they could rig the match between Baek Junmin and Joo Jaekyung. 
(chapter 70) acquires a different meaning. What he condemns as arrogance is not a moral failure, but a structural adaptation. These fighters have learned that they do not need to finish fights with a knockout. They only need to prolong them—to survive them—because the system will finish the sentence for them. Therefore, the moderator’s commentary during the match introducing the new Korean fighter takes on a clearer function. 
(chapter 71) He frames the rookie as someone “waiting for the right timing,” subtly suggesting a coming knockout rather than prolonged survival. The language is important: it reassures the audience that decisiveness still exists within the system, that power is merely deferred—not absent.
(chapter 71) The director is not persuaded. Hwang Byungchul reads the situation differently. He recognizes stiffness, fear, and overreliance on structure—not composure, not strategy. Where the moderator sees patience, the director sees hesitation. Where commentary insists on strategy, experience detects rigidity and lack of instincts.
(chapter 81) It is an assumption: that the outcome no longer requires athletic intervention. The champion is treated as a finished product, a celebrity whose role is to endure visibility, not to alter the terms of the fight itself.
(chapter 82) and inside the cage. 
(chapter 87) Publicly, he is courteous. Measured. Even complimentary. 
(chapter 82), gentle and polite gestures, and tactical distance— away from the spotlight, away from overt confrontation. His restraint is not humility, but alignment. He performs civility so that judgment, narration, and authority can be outsourced to the institution. That’s why for him, fighting is strongly intertwined with fun and he sees himself more as a star than as an athlete. He is definitely influenced by MFC. Hence we can say that his suit mirrors his mind-set. Gabriel’s suit does not soften his presence; it disciplines it. The patterned fabric signals rigidity rather than elegance—structure over fluidity. It mirrors his fighting style: calibrated, rule-bound, resistant to improvisation. Nothing about his appearance invites rupture. Everything is designed to hold form.
(chapter 52) He lets others speak, provoke, circulate images, manage money, create pressure. 
(chapter 54) His power does not come from direct address, but from displacement. When he does appear, it is rarely to argue. 
(chapter 49) It is to smirk, to whisper, to apply pressure obliquely. In both cases, the logic is identical: control is preserved by never being fully present.
(chapter 87) It is more observation. He allows the opponent to speak first—to reveal the structure of the exchange. 
(chapter 87) When it lands, it collapses distance. It forces the opponent inward. And crucially, it targets the center of the body—not the face that earns applause, but the core that sustains movement.
(chapter 87) and delivers an uppercut. 
(chapter 87) This is not escalation; it is completion. Where Gabriel sought to keep the fight open, Joo Jaekyung compresses it. He refuses the long exchange. He refuses circulation. He refuses to wait for judgment. His strategy is not to be evaluated later, but to be undeniable now. 
(chapter 87) This is not silence imposed from outside, but silence produced by gravity. Once the body crashes, breath cannot return, and speech has nowhere to perch. 
(chapter 87)
(chapter 74) 
(chapter 87) 
(chapter 2) While the jinx held, action could still occur, but speech could not carry consequence. Words dissipated, were deferred, or were absorbed by systems designed to neutralize them. Powerlessness expressed itself as speechlessness.
(chapter 87) His actions arrive before meaning can be reassigned. His words arrive where no answer is prepared. In this sense, episode 87 marks the moment Joo Jaekyung becomes fluent in his own discipline. Not merely competent, not merely dominant, but articulate. His movements surprise 
(chapter 5) which had surprised his manager Park Namwook. 
(chapter 5)
(chapter 69) , the switching, the method—the institution could have responded. Clarifications could be issued. Liability could be managed. But by speaking elliptically, by pointing to manipulation without anatomizing it, the champion places the burden of interpretation onto the audience. And MFC can not deny the existence of an incident in the locker room.
(chapter 62) They are not close enough to trust the system blindly.
(chapter 57)
(chapter 69), by allowing attention to cluster around foreign misconduct 
(chapter 69) and public embarrassment 
(chapter 74) Early incidents reframed as character. Let’s not forget that he was stigmatized as a thug by the members from Team Black too. 
(chapter 47) Nothing new needs to be invented. Only reassembled. They know about the dragon’s past, because they brought Baek Junmin, someone who resented the celebrity for his wealth and fame. 
(chapter 31) The system does not deny the champion’s words ; it reclassifies them. What was a refusal of manipulation becomes “anger issues.” What was naming becomes “acting out.”
(chapter 72) It only needs to repeat an already accepted story: abandonment as necessity, violence as justification, disappearance as victimhood. A story the system knows how to circulate. And Hwang Byungchul never questioned her decision so far. 
(chapter 78) Secondly, Kim Dan is now able to distinguish the past from the present. Finally, thanks to doc Dan 
(chapter 62), he did so many good deeds in the seaside town that the inhabitants and the patients from the hospice won’t accept such accusations. I believe that such people won’t see “motherfucker” as a problem at all, they will rather see it as a part of his role after the match. What will remain in their mind is rather the accusation and riddle he voiced: the stunt Baek Junmin played. 
(chapter 87), which already tells us that CSPP does not function as a simple broadcaster. My idea is that CSPP operates as an intermediary apparatus: a company that packages events, sells broadcasting rights, coordinates visibility, and transforms violence into consumable spectacle. In other words, CSPP does not show fights; it produces events. This explicates why CSPP was present right from the start 
(chapter 14), but barely visible. But the moment it caught my attention in Paris, I realized that its increasing visibility displays the success of MFC as company. Observe that when the champion faced Randy Booker, the weight-in took place on the same day than the fight and in the arena, not at a prestigious hotel like in Paris. Here, the champion held a conference many days before the weight-in, and the latter took place the night before the match with Arnaud Gabriel. Secondly, you can observe the success of MFC through the banners. In Busan, the website of MFC was posed in the background next to CSPP. 
(chapter 50), only MFC and CSPP. But in Paris, it is now totally different. 
(chapter 48), and distribution platforms, insulating each layer from direct responsibility. If something goes wrong, blame can always be displaced sideways.
(chapter 35), his suspension 
(chapter 57) 
(chapter 70) His matches are scheduled at hours accessible even to a Korean hospital 
(chapter 41) or hospice patients. 
(chapter 71) becomes intelligible. It is not a mark of anticipation, but of expendability. The match is placed where attention is thinnest, where failure or success carries minimal consequence. By contrast, Joo Jaekyung’s fights are positioned to be seen. The asymmetry exposes how dependent MFC’s visibility economy is on him—not as a competitor, but as the primary organizer of audience attention.
(chapter 47) His presence circulates through curated highlights and controlled conference footage rather than open broadcast. 
(chapter 47) His rise is engineered through selective visibility. 
(chapter 47) Weak opponents are chosen. 
(chapter 47) His image is inflated before he ever faces Joo Jaekyung. CSPP does not need to expose him fully; it needs only to prepare recognition. However, CSPP is an official company, they can not control rumors among fighters. 
(chapter 47) Thus the manager suggested this to his boss just before: 
(chapter 46) By mentioning the existence of spies, he incited the main lead to keep his distance from the doctor and the members so that the rumors about the underground fighting wouldn’t reach his ears.
(chapter 14), the United States, Paris—the fights are placed in high-visibility slots. Loss must be witnessed. Decline must be shared. By contrast, the fight between Baek Junmin and Joo Jaekyung takes place in the morning 
(chapter 49), a time of dispersed attention, private viewing, and reduced collective response. Visibility is not maximized; it is managed. 
(chapter 49) CSPP’s role, then, is not neutral mediation. It is temporal governance. It decides when exposure becomes dangerous and when it becomes profitable. It does not silence events; it times them.
(chapter 77) Once Joo Jaekyung does not contest the loss of his title—once he does not sue, demand more investigation, or interrupt the administrative process— MFC and CSPP no longer need to justify anything. Delay becomes normalization. Silence becomes confirmation.
(chapter 87) is dangerous not only for MFC, but for CSPP itself. If his connections to the underworld surface, CSPP is no longer a distributor of sport, but a conduit for illicit spectacle. Contracts dissolve not because violence occurred, but because violence escaped framing.
(chapter 49) Under normal medical protocol, this should have stopped the fight immediately. 
(chapter 41) No athlete should perform when injured. Yet MFC Medical remains silent, the staff simply treats the wound. The bout proceeds. Only later—after attention has shifted, after consequences have begun to circulate—does the same medical authority step forward to issue disciplinary sanctions and a suspension 
(chapter 52) There were cameras in the arena. What cannot be allowed to surface is proof of foreknowledge: that an injured athlete was permitted to fight under institutional supervision. Thus it raises the question if the match in the morning was broadcast on TV. 
(chapter 52) Structural complicity is translated into an individualized incident. What occurred in the cage is no longer the issue; what occurred afterward becomes the narrative.
(chapter 46) that began elsewhere—losses already acknowledged when Choi Gilseok brought him into the system in the first place. 
(chapter 30) This implies that he won’t remain passive and silent like in the past, relying on structure and institutions (Entertainment agency…) and accepting to become a scapegoat. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 84) and the progression of their relationship, attuning readers to intimacy 
(chapter 85), care, and emotional release. When the chapter opens with a tactile, reassuring gesture, it naturally confirms that reading mode. The squeeze feels like a culmination.
(chapter 87) This sentence marks a limit. It is not indifference, but acceptance. The champion has just registered the doctor’s surprise 
(chapter 87) — the slight jolt, the hesitation—and he responds by stopping. The restraint is not automatic; it is chosen. He does not ask for more reassurance, more certainty, or more support, even though he clearly desires it. Instead, he recognizes sufficiency.
(chapter 87) So the doctor’s support was indeed limited in time. So the stop of the champion ‘s squeeze 
(chapter 87) The opening scene unfolds in a space that feels inhabited and shared, composed in softer shades that emphasize stillness and presence. The final scene is colder, darker, sharper. 
(chapter 87) —the second collapses time inward. Baek Junmin does not act toward what is coming; he reacts toward what has already been. His violence is not exploratory but recursive. 
(chapter 49) When Joo Jaekyung addresses him with open disrespect, the breach of seniority provokes immediate outrage. 
(chapter 49) Intervention follows quickly. The insult is not tolerated 
(chapter 49) because it threatens hierarchy itself. Choi’s anger is genuine in that moment and it reveals what he truly guards: status, order, and the visibility of respect.
(chapter 87), and continues escalating without repercussion 
(chapter 78) Both continue to perceive Joo Jaekyung as nothing more than a fighter 
(chapter 87) This assumption governs how they speak to him, how they threaten him 
(chapter 46) His presence creates a convenient fiction: those around the table come to believe that he is the owner, or at least the one who truly governs the gym. Joo Jaekyung’s absence is interpreted not as autonomy, but as immaturity or dependence. Authority, once again, attaches itself to performance rather than reality.
(chapter 46) Even after boundaries are formally stated, Park Namwook continues to rely on seniority to address the champion 
(chapter 46) as if he were a child or an employee—someone to be corrected, instructed, and disciplined. The warning does not alter behavior because it does not challenge the underlying assumption: that Joo Jaekyung’s place is below them.
(chapter 49), handshakes, and private humiliation 
(chapter 49), the gesture becomes clearer still. He is accustomed to violence without witnesses, to domination shielded by proximity and secrecy. He was always the man in the shadow. The live broadcast deprives him of that refuge. 
(chapter 87) also unfold under the sign of privacy. 
(chapter 87) He is announcing a shift of identity.
(chapter 47). The broken screen already signaled that he no longer cares about how he is seen. 
(chapter 47) By rejecting visibility and embracing excess, he also rejects the last requirement that tied him to that system.
(chapter 87) Kim Dan sleeping openly, showing his face, remaining there without fear—this is read by the champion as tacit trust. That trust becomes energy. In other words, this scene serves as the positive reflection of the argument in the locker room: 
(chapter 51)
(chapter 75) —showering, cologne, self-regulation before a match. Here, that sequence is conspicuously absent.
(chapter 69), recognition, and above all visibility. Yet this visibility is curiously incomplete. Despite his victory, Baek Junmin is not immediately present as a public figure. He appears as a result 
(chapter 52) —his name, his win—but not yet as a narrative subject.
(chapter 50), they remain structurally hidden, absorbed by intermediaries, or misattributed. 
(chapter 47) Where the legal economy requires patience and exposure, the illicit one promises certainty and silence.
(chapter 52) In practice, hierarchy barely functions. Authority exists without discipline, protection without accountability. Baek Junmin is not positioned among other fighters, nor anchored in a collective. Thus he is not truly celebrated at the restaurant after the tie. Thus the fighters mentioned the director Choi Gilseok’s financial success or the odd behavior of Joo JAekyung. 
(chapter 52) Besides, he watches the match alone 
(chapter 51) where proximity forced acknowledgment and power was renegotiated face-to-face. 
(chapter 86), it does not close the night through narrative resolution. There is no statement, no promise, no verbal seal. And yet, for many Jinx-philes, the final panel refuses to let the scene dissolve. What remains is not heat, not tension, not even tenderness — but circulation.
(chapter 21), overload 
(chapter 33), short circuit 
(chapter 53) reset. And once that lens is adopted, it becomes impossible to limit the consequences of episode 86 to the couple alone. Because a closed circuit does not only affect those directly connected to it. It alters the surrounding system. 
(chapter 86). This section will explore how acknowledging change without denying past harm opens a new ethical position — one that prevents memory from being weaponized, while still preserving responsibility. Third, the analysis will turn to conversion, revisiting earlier nights marked by failure, asymmetry, and isolation. Rather than cancelling them, episode 86 absorbs and transforms them. This is where forgiveness, reflection, and the first true encounter with consequence quietly enter the narrative. Finally, a new section will widen the lens further by examining shared experience and memory 
(chapter 53), particularly through Kim Dan’s relationship with his grandmother. Here, the focus will not be accusation, but contrast: between memories carried alone and memories held together; between cycles of repetition and moments of presence; between a worldview structured around endurance and one shaped by circulation. The Paris night does not only affect how Kim Dan sees Joo Jaekyung 
(chapter 86) carries such weight, we must return to the origin of kissing itself in Jinx. Because surprise, in this story, is not an abstract theme. It has a history. And that history begins with a body being caught off guard.
(chapter 14) There is no warning, no verbal cue, no time to prepare. The kiss arrives as interruption. It is not negotiated; it is imposed. Hence the author focused on the champion’s hand just before the smooch. 
This moment matters far more than it initially appears, because it establishes the template through which Kim Dan first encounters intimacy. 
(chapter 15) Affection does not emerge gradually. It breaks in.
(chapter 15) He needs preparation. He needs time to brace himself emotionally. This request reveals two aspects. First, he connects a kiss with love. On the other hand, the request is not really about romance; it is rather about survival. Surprise, for Kim Dan, has already been coded as something that overwhelms the body before the mind can intervene.
(chapter 39), he violates his own request.
(chapter 39) They are unannounced, often landing on unusual places (cheek or ear) 
(chapter 44). They often take place under asymmetrical conditions — when one of them is intoxicated, confused, or emotionally exposed. Sometimes they occur without full consent, sometimes without clarity. In chapters 39 and 44, kisses surface precisely when language fails or consciousness fractures. It is as if Kim Dan has internalized a rule he never chose: a kiss must be sudden. Observe how the champion replies to the doctor’s smile and laugh: he kissed him, as if he was jealous of his happiness. 
(chapter 44) That’s how I came to realize that the kiss in the Manhwa is strongly intertwined with “surprise”. This is the missing link.
(chapter 2), he comes to reproduce interruption as intimacy. He knows that surprise destabilizes him — that is why he asked for warning — but he has no other model. What overwhelms him also becomes what he reaches for. Surprise is both threat and language.
(chapter 3): the sudden call from the athlete, 
(chapter 1), the offer of sex in exchange for money 
(chapter 6), the switched spray 
(chapter 49), the sudden changes in rules. These moments strip Kim Dan of anticipation and agency. His body reacts before his will can engage. Surprise equals exposure.
(chapter 1) His life is governed by “always”: always working, always returning, always responsible. He lives for his grandmother. Nothing unexpected is allowed to happen, because nothing unexpected can be afforded. This is safety through stasis. Presence without experience.
(chapter 5) 
(chapter 1) They shattered routine rather than enriching it. Surprise, in that context, did not open possibility; it threatened survival. It meant debt, coercion, fear. And precisely because of that, it could not be integrated into memory as experience — only repressed as trauma.
(chapter 1), if he doesn’t return home. Surprise, in its earlier form, is excised from the household. What remains is a world of repetition and endurance — safer, but lifeless. 
(chapter 2) but in a fundamentally different form.
(chapter 11)
(chapter 11) His appearances are sudden, his demands non-discussable, his violence immediate. He does not ask; he enforces. Surprise, under his rule, eliminates speech. It leaves no space for argument, no room for clarification, no possibility of consent. One endures, or one is punished.
(chapter 6) Even when power is asymmetrical, even when the terms are coercive, speech is required. Conditions are stated. Rules are articulated. Kim Dan is forced to listen, to answer, to argue, to object. He must speak.
(chapter 17) The two figures cannot coexist because they represent mutually exclusive regimes of surprise: one that annihilates speech, and one that forces it into being. In other words, only one allows experience to be lived rather than survived.
(chapter 27) Experiences accumulate instead of disappearing. They demand response, speech, negotiation. Life no longer consists in enduring impact, but in processing it.
(chapter 65) and as such neutralization: suffering must be absorbed, pain must be justified, disruption must be folded back into endurance. There is no place for charge there — only for dissipation. What Kim Dan lives through with Joo Jaekyung follows a different logic altogether: not sacrifice, but circulation; not repetition, but conversion.
(chapter 41) not despite surprise, but through it. Not because dominance is romanticized, but because surprise is the first force that treats him as someone to whom things can happen. And don’t forget that for him, a kiss symbolizes affection. Even negative experiences generate subjectivity. They prove that he exists beyond function.
(chapter 85) Kim Dan either endures it or reproduces it under unstable conditions. Agency is partial. Meaning collapses afterward.
(chapter 39), irony 
(chapter 41) or rejection 
(chapter 55). He does not retreat into his habitual “it’s nothing” or “never mind.” He does not reinterpret the gesture as convenience or reflex. 
(chapter 86) He kisses back while looking tenderly at his partner. He holds Kim Dan’s head gently. He can only see such a gesture as a positive answer to his request: acceptance and even desire. Surprise is not punished. It is received.
(Chapter 45) This time, the athlete not only accepts the present (the kiss), but but also expresses “gratitude” by kissing back actively. 
(chapter 65) In her eyes, she has never changed, just like her grandson. 
(chapter 52), justify behavior 
(chapter 1) Kim Dan’s endurance is explained through obedience and debt. The grandmother’s authority is explained through sacrifice. In every case, the same logic applies: this is how it has always been; therefore this is how it must remain.
(chapter 65) If the past is absolute, it can be endlessly invoked to invalidate the present. We have a perfect example on the beach. 
(chapter 65) 
(chapter 65) They are evaluated exclusively through a moral lens. Smoking and drinking are not responses; they are flaws. And because they are framed as flaws, they retroactively define his character rather than his situation. This is where agency collapses.
(chapter 65) Her behavior does not contradict her claim that she wants Kim Dan to “live his own life.” 
(chapter 65) It reveals how she understands such a life should be arranged. She sees herself as superior, as if she had never done any mistake, as if she had lived as a saint.
(chapter 78)
(chapter 86) Once again, the “hamster” is given the opportunity not only to decide, but also to follow his heart. Where the Paris night allows difference to coexist with memory, Shin Okja’s framework collapses difference back into judgment. Where electricity requires polarity, her logic insists on sameness. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible how doc Dan came to neglect himself. Self-care is inseparable from choice — from the belief that one’s decisions can meaningfully alter the present. If change is denied, care loses its purpose. Attending to oneself becomes optional, even suspect, because it implies a future different from the one already prescribed. 
(chapter 44) The one who remembers bears the – alone, while the other continues forward unmarked. That imbalance is corrosive. It distorts perception. It turns even good memories sour.
(chapter 65), but she remembers it in a way that flattens time. Pain becomes proof of virtue. Sacrifice becomes identity. 
(chapter 65) Change is allowed only insofar as it returns to the same point. Electrically speaking, her system is grounded — all charge dissipates into endurance. There is no polarity, only repetition.
(chapter 65) Even though the word jinx is never spoken during the Paris night, its logic quietly collapses there. 
(chapter 75) In chapter 75, it is explicitly framed as a way to “clear the head”: an act designed to release pressure and return the system to zero. Partners were interchangeable. Feelings were excluded. Electricity existed only as a spark — brief, violent, and self-extinguishing. Energy was expelled, not circulated. That is the true mechanics of the jinx: power without continuity, intensity without consequence.
(chapter 85) Desires matter, not the match the next morning. Besides, the identity of the partner matters — not just romantically, but also structurally. Current requires two poles. It requires response. It cannot flow through an object, only between 2 subjects.
(chapter 39) and chapter 44 
(chapter 11), the care – even if he had hurt himself – 
(chapter 47), the shared smiles 
(chapter 47). Thus this photograph 
(chapter 65) becomes a talisman — not a record of reality, but a distilled image of safety. Painful dimensions are filtered out. Conflict, coercion, and silent pressure recede into the background. Memory protects him by idealizing. Because of this picture, he projected himself in the future, making unrealistic plans. 
(chapter 47) It was, as if he only had good times with his grandmother. 
(chapter 21) 
(chapter 47) and memories. 
(chapter 21) 
(chapter 65). While sleeping, memories come to the surface. 
(chapter 85) I believe that its appearance does not function as decoration. Its imagery — figures suspended among clouds, bodies neither falling nor grounded — introduces a different register of time. Not urgency. Not performance. Not spectacle. Stillness. Interval. A space where movement pauses without collapsing. Under this new light, the reference is Morpheus.
(chapter 75) Until now, rest had been replaced by discharge: sex as erasure, violence as exhaustion, ritual as compulsion. The Paris night does not abolish wakefulness through collapse; it introduces the conditions under which sleep might finally be possible. 
(Chapter 78) Here, he reduced it to the absence of sex, but I am sure that deep down, he would have been satisfied, if the “hamster” had given him a good night kiss. 
(chapter 86) The charge redistributes. Memory ceases to isolate and begins to circulate. Hence it creates a new memory. 
(chapter 86) was a reflection of the picture. 
(chapter 86) No one is erased or reduced to an object. Nothing is overlooked or forgotten. But repetition loses its hold. And from here, the story can no longer proceed as before.
(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.
(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.
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. 
(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?
(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.
(chapter 1) reminded him of responsibility , every sight 
(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), 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) — 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.
(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. 
(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.
(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.
(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.
(chapter 77) and asking for his opinion
(chapter 83), Joo Jaekyung is liberating his fated partner. 
(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 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. 
(chapter 83) Someone who can choose.
(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!
(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) 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)
(chapter 83), although the knowledge is borrowed, second-hand, quoted from “the guys at the gym.” He buys cute headbands 
(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) 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 warrior who never loses, but also the boy who becomes jealous of a rollercoaster because it made Dan smile. 
(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 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.
(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) 
(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),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. 
, (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), he rises into air — the first air he has breathed without fear.
(chapter 44) followed by a false dawn. Chapter 44 unfolds in artificial night — neon 
(chapter 44) and night lamp 
(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. 
(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) This scene confirmed my previous interpretation about the symbolism of the blue/golden hour. 
(chapter 83)
(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.
(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.
(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. 
(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. 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 46) The champion also played “dumb”. Thus the pillow got punched later. 
(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.
(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?
(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 75), perfume 
(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) 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.
(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.
(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.
(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. 
(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) 
(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.
(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.
(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 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!! 
(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. 
(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.
(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 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) 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.
(chapter 54) couldn’t nourish him. Hence he replaced it with wine for a while.
(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.
(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 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) and “splash” 
(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.
(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.
(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.
(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 81)
(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.
(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) 
(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 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.
(chapter 37). So when the manager says this, 
(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.
(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.
(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.
(chapter 80) And here, I had imagined that the mother had offered this t-shirt as a birthday present. 
(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.
(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 29) which reminds us of breastfeeding. And now, look at the embrace in the swimming pool: 
(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 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)
(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. 
(chapter 37)
(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.
(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.
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.
(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 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.
(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 28) into the first stirrings of love 
(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) 
(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 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. 
(chapter 65)
(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.
(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.
(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: 
(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.
(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 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.
(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 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.
(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.
(chapter 31) and tries to refuse it. 
(chapter 31) 
(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:
(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. 
(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.
(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.
(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.
(chapter 22) 
(chapter 30) becomes unexpectedly true here. The wardrobe bridges the distance that the grandmother’s gifts had always created.
(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.
(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.
(chapter 80) The “hamster” had instinctively turned to the only person who had ever offered him help without cost.
— 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.
(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! 
(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)
(chapter 79), the final test before the circle closes for good.
(chapter 47) and 8 lies that invisible hinge: the death of the old economy of love and the birth of a new one.
(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.
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) 
(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. 
(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.
(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) 
(chapter 62) Where chapter 26 radiated spontaneity, this one reveals calculation and fatigue. 
(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) 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.
(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.
(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.
(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
(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.
(chapter 80), the faint opacity of the nails 
(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) 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.
(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 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.
(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.
(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 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.
(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 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)
(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.
(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.
(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. 
(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) 
(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.
(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. 
(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.
(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.
(chapter 70) The athlete’s posture 
(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.
(chapter 27)
(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. 
(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. 
(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.
(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. 
(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 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 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 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 13) and why doc Dan made such a request. 
(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.
(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 21) comes from the early loss of his mother. 
(chapter 79), if he knew that the doctor has already loved him for a long time.
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. 
(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.
(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 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.
(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 66) 
(chapter 79)
(chapter 79) To restore it, he will have to speak, to act, and ultimately, to smile again.
(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 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) 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)
(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 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) His vision of Kim Dan’s false grin is not a taunt from the other 
(chapter 79)— the breakfast scene 
(chapter 79) , the casual 
(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 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.
(chapter 69), and the balcony 
(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 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. 
(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 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. 
(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.
(chapter 11) now becomes the one who receives the collapse. 
(chapter 66) 
(chapter 66) trembles out against Jaekyung’s chest; his 
(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 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) In other words, he is inciting the doctor to trust himself more and become independent. 
(chapter 28) 
(chapter 69) The wolf, who once relied on dominance and silence, is now allowing his fated partner to hug him. 
(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. 
(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 65) 
(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. 
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! 
(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 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 27) Striking is that the champion always chose the left 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 79) He had the impression that he wouldn’t meet his “expectations”. Observe the parallels between the champion’s dream 
(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. 
(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. 
(chapter 79). Yet as the doctor grows thinner and more exhausted, the wolf begins to understand what “starvation” truly means. 
(chapter 79) 
(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 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).
(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.
. (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.
(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)
(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 53) For him, the physical therapists were just tools and as such replaceable.
(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 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 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.
(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 74) The silence of his grandmother on this point suggests that even the most basic ritual of mourning was denied him.
(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.
(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.
(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) 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)
(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.
(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 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.
(chapter 9) 
(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) 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 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.
(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 60), which he took on the day one of them died! 
(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) 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.
(chapter 22) 
(chapter 13) a breakfast in silence 
(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.
(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.
(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.
(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 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.
(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 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.
(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.
(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. 
(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. 
(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. 
(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 6): neglect and indifference towards the commoners. And this new observation brings me to my other topic, Jung In-Hun.
(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 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 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 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.
(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 
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.
(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 107) Though he passed the civil service exam too, he is not able to fulfil his father’s wish either. 
(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 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 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!
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 126), his karma is not only to end up alone, but also not to receive any support from his brother.
(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.
(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. 
(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.
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
(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. 
(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. 
(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. 
(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: 
(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) 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, 
(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 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. 
(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.
(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 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 
(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 
(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. 
, 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. 
(chapter 9)
(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
(chapter 43), when he gave the drink to Lee Jihwa. 
(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) 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 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 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!! 
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 
(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 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? 
(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.
(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 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. 
(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 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. 
(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!! 
(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 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 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 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.
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, 
(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 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 65). Thus she gave more the impression of being righteous and truly concerned. 
(chapter 82)
But there exists another style of moustache beard. 
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 45) 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 78) Hence I started suspecting if these two persons were truly nobles in the end. 
(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 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 36, here the painter is drugged against his will), Deok-Jae 
, Nameless,
(chapter 60), Kim 
(chapter 78), the calligrapher with his insults 
(chapter 91) 
(chapter 98) and the black guards from Min. 
(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.
(chapter 46) This was the “positive” reflection of this scene: 
(chapter 46) Moreover, I am now doubting that Baek Na-Kyum and Heena were seen in front of the gibang. 
(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 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 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.
(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! 
(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. 
(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) 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 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. 
(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 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) 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 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 96) She even got sequestered herself. 
(chapter 99), this means that her punishment will be that she will never see her colleagues again. Since she faked her 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 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 01)
(chapter 97) Fake concern versus anger and resent 
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. 
(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!! 🤣
(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) 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: 
(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) 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. 
(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. 
(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. 
(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) 
On the other hand, when these persons got tortured, they closed their eyes out of agony, 
(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. 
, 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!
(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. 
(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. 
(chapter 46) and we have so many jars next to the pond: 
(chapter 94) [For more read the essay “The secret behind the library”]
(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. 
(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. 
(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: 
(chapter 4) 
(chapter 82) 
(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 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! 
(chapter 45)
(chapter 55) and as such his heart and mind. 
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 
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, 
(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 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. 
(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. 
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. 
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. 
, 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 
. 
(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 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.
(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 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 30), but much more brutal and violent! 
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 