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 The Words The Fireworks Stole and The Sweetest Downfall Ever
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Introduction — Dream, Magic, or Something Else?
Many Jinx-lovers were genuinely happy watching how the champion interacted with Doc Dan during that night. He was caring 
(chapter 86), gentle, attentive 
(chapter 86) — asking questions instead of imposing answers 
(chapter 64). For Joo Jaekyung’s unconditional stans (and I count myself among them), such an attitude 
(chapter 86) can easily be read as proof that the protagonist’s good heart has always been existent, but it was barely visible. Compared to earlier chapters, the contrast is now undeniable. And yet, I would like to pause you right there.
Because focusing solely on the champion’s behavior risks missing the most decisive movement of this night. Joo Jaekyung’s transformation did not begin in episode 86. Long before that, he had already started changing — sometimes suddenly 
(chapter 61), sometimes awkwardly 
(chapter 80), sometimes inconsistently 
(chapter 79), but unmistakably 
. (chapter 83) Tenderness, concern, even a certain form of devotion had appeared earlier 
(chapter 40), albeit in ways that were often overlooked, 
(chapter 18) misunderstood or poorly timed. This night 
(chapter 86) does not initiate his metamorphosis.
So what, then, makes it feel so different?
When confronted with a night filled with stars 
(chapter 86), sparks 
(chapter 86), and softness, many Jinx-philes might instinctively describe it as magical. The imagery invites such a reading. After all, we have seen similar nights before. The night in the States shimmered with illusion 
(chapter 39); words were spoken, confessions made — only to dissolve with memory. 
(chapter 41) The penthouse night echoed A Midsummer Night’s Dream 
(chapter 44), suspended between intoxication and desire, intense yet fragile. Both nights felt unreal, and both were later reframed as mistakes 
(chapter 41) — moments to be erased rather than carried forward.
(chapter 45). This raises an essential question. Is episode 86 
(chapter 86) a renewal of those nights? Another dream layered over the past? A repetition disguised as healing? Or, on the contrary, is this the first night that resists enchantment altogether?
This question matters because in Jinx, nights are never judged by themselves. Their true meaning is revealed afterward — in the morning 
(chapter 4), in the return of light 
(chapter 66), in what remains once the sparks fade. A dream dissolves with daylight. Reality does not.
This is why it would be misleading to read episode 86 primarily as evidence of the champion’s improved behavior. Such a perspective encloses the night within its warmth and risks mistaking tenderness 
(chapter 86) for final transformation. The real shift occurs elsewhere — more quietly, and perhaps more unsettlingly. To grasp the nature of this night, we must follow more importantly the doctor and his interaction with his fated partner.
What changes here is not only what Joo Jaekyung does, but how Kim Dan perceives 
(chapter 86), processes, and responds to it. How he hesitates 
(chapter 86), reflects, and allows himself to reconsider what this moment can mean — and what it can lead to. (chapter 86) It is through this inner recalibration that we can begin to determine whether this night belongs to the realm of dream, repetition, or reality. Only by tracing the doctor’s perception can we understand what truly starts flowing here.
To approach this question, the analysis will move through several successive angles. It will begin with the symbolic and mythological references that frame episode 86, before turning to earlier nights that echo visually or emotionally within it. From there, attention will shift to forms of communication, considering how speech, silence, and gesture are arranged across these scenes. The analysis will then examine repeated actions and how their placement within the narrative differs from one moment to another. Only with such a progression can the nature of this night be reconsidered.
From Solar Heat to Electric Current
Many Jinx-lovers instinctively read episode 86 as a romantic turning point because the night looks “magical”: stars 
(chapter 86), sparks, that strange shimmer that seems to hang in the air 
(chapter 86). Why? It was, as if their dream had come true. However, is it correct? Is it not wishful thinking? What if this night is not magical at all? What if its true signature is not enchantment, but electricity—a current that interrupts, tests, and resets? 😮
To grasp this, we must first return to the symbolic regime that used to govern the champion’s presence. In earlier chapters (think of the awe and distance around chapters 40–41 and again later), Joo Jaekyung often appears as a solar figure 
(chapter 40) in Kim Dan’s perception: overwhelming, radiant, dominant, a heat-source that does not negotiate. 
(chapter 41) The sun can be admired, feared, and endured—but it cannot be questioned. 
(chapter 58) It simply shines, and the one who stands in its light adapts. This explicates why the physical therapist would choose silence and submission over communication. 
(chapter 48)
The Invisible Energy
Nevertheless, the excursion in episode 83 and 84 begins to dismantle this solar grammar, though at the time, its meaning is easy to miss. 
(chapter 83)
The shift away from solar symbolism does not announce itself loudly. It is embedded in the setting itself, almost too obvious to be noticed. An amusement park functions entirely on electricity. 
(chapter 83) Every ride, every light, every scream suspended in midair depends on current: motors accelerating and braking, circuits opening and closing, energy stored, released, and cut off. 
(chapter 83) Roller coasters do not move by heat, charisma, or sheer physical force; they move because electricity flows through them. The Viking ship swings 
(chapter 83) because current allows it to swing. The Ferris wheel ascends 
(chapter 83) because circuits hold — and descends because they release.
And yet, precisely because this energy is expected, it becomes invisible.
Neither the characters nor most Jinx-philes initially register electricity as a symbol. It is too familiar, too infrastructural. Electricity does all the work, but it remains background noise. This invisibility is not accidental. Unlike the sun — which imposes itself visually, hierarchically, almost tyrannically — electricity operates silently, relationally, conditionally. It does not dominate the scene; it enables it. It exists only as long as connections hold.
When Electricity Fails
This distinction matters, because electricity only becomes perceptible when it fails. 
(chapter 84)
The Ferris wheel breakdown in episode 84 is therefore not a minor technical inconvenience but a crucial narrative rupture. The moment the current cuts out, movement stops. Height becomes dangerous. Time suspends. Panic enters the frame. The announcement that “the earlier technical issues have been resolved” 
(chapter 84) explicitly names what had previously gone unspoken: the rides function only because current flows. When it disappears, the illusion of effortless motion collapses.
And it is precisely at this moment — when artificial motion halts — that Joo Jaekyung becomes active in an unexpected way. 
(chapter 84) The Ferris wheel has stopped. The current is gone. The carefully regulated system that lifted, rotated, and sustained them is no longer in control. Yet movement does not disappear entirely. It mutates. When the champion shifts his weight, grips the structure, reacts instinctively, the cabin begins to shake. Panels emphasize instability: creak, swish, ack. The motion is no longer generated by electricity but by the body itself.
This moment is crucial. The shaking exposes a hierarchy reversal. Human strength now surpasses mechanical control. The ride no longer dictates sensation; the occupant does. And this excess of physical force — uncontrolled, unmediated — becomes unsettling rather than triumphant. Kim Dan immediately responds by asking him to sit down, to stop moving, to restore balance. Stillness, not action, becomes the condition for safety.
From Motion to Speech
What follows is telling. Deprived of the park’s mechanical rhythm, Joo Jaekyung does not compensate by acting more. He compensates by speaking. 
(chapter 84) Stranded above ground, stripped of the park’s mechanical rhythm, he apologizes. 
(chapter 84) Not theatrically, not performatively, but awkwardly, haltingly. His body exposes his discomfort 
(chapter 84) and fears. He avoids the doctor’s gaze, crosses his arms 
(chapter 84) or squeezes his arm 
(chapter 84). The cessation of electrical motion coincides with a shift in his own mode of action. Where the park depended on current to keep things moving, he now moves without it. The absence of electricity forces something else to surface: responsibility, attention, presence. Additionally, this sequence anticipates what will later unfold more fully. Proactivity is no longer expressed through force or motion, but through articulation. Words stand for action and have weight. The champion’s future action is announced here, quietly: he will no longer push forward by shaking the structure. He will move by sharing thought, by naming feeling, by allowing himself to be affected.
The interruption of electricity does not merely stop the ride. It forces a change in how agency is exercised. Under this new light, my avid readers can grasp the true life lesson the athlete received at the amusement park, the importance of communication and attentiveness.
As a first conclusion, the amusement park juxtaposes two forms of energy: mechanical electricity and human vitality. The first is regulated, automated, predictable — until it fails. The second is volatile, embodied, responsive. When the Ferris wheel stops, the mechanical system collapses, and a different kind of current emerges: emotional, relational, biological.
Yet, only in retrospect does this moment reveal its deeper logic. I am quite certain my followers are wondering how I came to pay attention to electricity which led to new observations and interpretations. It is related to the “electrical night” in the hotel!
Electricity and Sex
What strikes immediately in episode 86 is not tenderness, nor explicit care, nor even novelty of behavior — but density. The night is saturated with sparks 
(chapter 86), 
(chapter 86) jolts, sudden contractions of the body 
(chapter 86). Kim Dan is repeatedly shown convulsing, gasping, losing linear thought, and it is the same for the MMA fighter. Panels insist on interruption: jolt, tingle, broken breath, aborted sentences. The doctor’s body behaves as if struck, especially in this image. 
(chapter 86) It is at this point that a phrase surfaced in my mind — instinctively, almost involuntarily. A phrase we use in French when something intangible yet decisive occurs between two people: Le courant passe. Literally, the current passes. Idiomatic meaning: they are on the same wavelength, something connects, communication flows. However, here, the current is not the product of civilization, but of nature. Two people interacting with each other. And it is precisely because of the unusually high frequency of sparks and jolts in the illustrations that a belated realization imposes itself: nature, too, produces electricity — through storms, through thunder.
Joo Jaekyung’s Day and the Thunder
This raises a necessary question: where was the thunder before, as Jinx is working like a kaleidoscope?
One might be tempted to point to episode 69. 
(chapter 69) A storm was announced back then. And yet, upon closer inspection, no thunder was ever shown there. There was tension, there was excess, there were dark clouds 
(chapter 69) — but there was no strike, no discharge, no interruption. The imagery remained continuous, fluid, enclosed within the logic of escalation rather than rupture.
The thunder appears in the amusement park. 😮 One detail initially seems insignificant, almost too mundane to merit attention: the day itself.
The excursion in episodes 83–84 takes place on a Thursday. At first glance, this appears to be nothing more than a scheduling detail. And yet, Thursday is not a neutral day. Linguistically and mythologically, it carries a charge. Thursday is Thor’s day. This latent mythology quietly materializes through two objects, the drakkar (Viking boat) (chapter 83) and the hammer 
(chapter 83). In Roman terms, Thursday corresponds to dies Iovis — Jupiter’s day — the god of thunder. Both gods are strongly connected to thunder and as such current.
The narrative does not underline this fact. It does not name the god, invoke mythology, or frame the excursion as symbolic. The reference remains dormant. But dormancy is not absence. It is latency. This is where the symbolism stops being latent and becomes functional.
The reference to Thor and Jupiter (which was already palpable in earlier episodes 
-chapter 67-; for more read my analysis Star-crossed lovers 🌕) is not decorative mythology; it introduces a dual model of power that the narrative begins to test on Joo Jaekyung himself. Thor (chapter 83) is the son: impulsive, embodied, excessive, a god who discharges energy through impact. Jupiter, by contrast, is the father (chapter 83): regulating, sovereign, stabilizing, the god who governs the sky rather than striking it. Thunder belongs to both, but it manifests differently depending on position in the lineage. What matters is not which god the champion “is,” but that he oscillates between them. This oscillation becomes legible through the hammer.
The hammer game appears after the champion’s moment of physical discomfort and jealousy.
(chapter 83). Before striking anything, he is already unwell: angry overstimulated and complaining, visually reduced to a childlike register. This matters. The hammer does not create excess — it receives it. (chapter 83) It offers a sanctioned outlet for surplus energy that has nowhere else to go. However, contrary to the past, the physical therapist becomes the beneficiary of the athlete’s greed and jealousy. He receives a teddy bear. The hamster doesn’t witness the punching incident, he only sees the result: care and affection. (chapter 83)
Unlike boxing, unlike punching a sandbag 
(chapter 34), the hammer gesture is not confrontational, for the machine is immobile. There is no opponent. (chapter 83) The arm rises and comes down. The movement is vertical, not horizontal. It does not engage another body; it obliterates resistance. This is not combat but discharge.
In that moment, Joo Jaekyung performs Thor. Not metaphorically, but structurally. He channels excess into a single, downward strike. The absurd score — 999 — is not triumph; it is overload. 
(chapter 83) Too much energy released at once. The system registers it, but cannot contain it. This means, the record won’t be registered and as such “remembered”. In fact what mattered here was the prize, the teddy bear, and restored self-esteem of the athlete. He could offer a present to doc Dan which the latter accepted without any resistance. (chapter 83) The pink heart indicates the presence of affection and gratitude. And crucially, this act restores balance. After the hammer, the champion is no longer visibly overwhelmed. He has expelled what needed to leave. This shows that the champion is learning to manage his jealousy differently.
This prepares the next transition. Once the excess is discharged, he can shift position. The childlike Thor-state gives way to something else: regulation, provision, containment. This is where Jupiter enters — not as domination, but as adaptive authority. The same character who was dazed now intervenes calmly, mediates interaction, hands over the teddy bear, anticipates need. Son and father coexist not as contradiction, but as sequence.
This duality is essential for what follows. Because thunder is not continuous like the sun. It interrupts. It breaks a state, resets a system, and allows a new configuration to emerge. That is its narrative function here. This means that the athlete’s attitude can no longer be generalized, as such reproaches or description wouldn’t reflect reality. But let’s return our attention to the thunder causing a short circuit and reset.
The Ferris wheel breakdown completes the logic. When electricity fails, mechanical motion stops. When motion stops, the champion’s bodily excess becomes dangerous. When excess becomes dangerous, restraint is required. And when restraint is required, speech replaces force. The apology does not come despite the breakdown, but because of it. The system has been reset. This is why the amusement park is not merely foreshadowing but training.
The champion learns, physically and symbolically, that energy must circulate differently depending on context. Sometimes it must be discharged. Sometimes it must be restrained. (chapter 86) Sometimes it must be transmitted through words rather than bodies. This is not moral growth; it is adaptive intelligence.
Doc Dan and the Thunder
And this is precisely what reappears in episode 86. (chapter 86)
There, thunder returns — no longer as mechanical failure, but as biological event. The sparks and jolts saturating the panels are not just erotic embellishment. They reproduce the same logic of interruption and reset as well. Kim Dan’s body reacts as if struck by current. Thought fragments. Linear continuity breaks. “I can’t think straight” is not poetic confusion; it is systemic overload. I would even say, we are witnessing a short circuit which can only lead to a reset.
A thunderstorm does not persuade. It forces a reboot. In other words, this night stands under the sign of reality despite the sparks. Electricity is real and even natural.
The crucial difference is that this time, the current does not come from machines, nor from spectacle, nor from a game. It emerges between two bodies. This is why le courant passe becomes more than metaphor. The current does not dominate; it circulates. It requires two terminals. It only exists because both are present and conductive. And now, you comprehend why the champion was attentive (chapter 86) and asked questions to his sex partner. The current stands for communication. 
(chapter 86) Therefore it is not surprising that doc Dan starts looking at his fated lover. Imagine what it means for the athlete, when the “hamster” is staring at him, though he is a little embarrassed. Finally, he is truly looking at him. The champion loves his gaze. And now, you comprehend why the “wolf” listened to the “cute hamster” and stopped leaving marks.
In this sense, the hammer returns one last time — transformed. (chapter 86)
What struck metal in the amusement park now strikes the psyche. Not as violence, not as domination, but as reset. The phallus functions here exactly as the hammer did earlier: a tool of discharge that interrupts an old state and makes a new configuration possible. The result is not surrender, not illusion, but recalibration. Joo Jaekyung is once again releasing his “energy” 
(chapter 85), but this time, its nature has changed. It is no longer jealousy or anger, but love and desire. Hence the current is not colored in red, but white and pink. (chapter 86) It is not a flame like here 
, but a thunder and as such it is still restrained and regulated.
This is why episode 86 does not feel “magical”, once the structure is visible. Magic enchants without consequence. Thunder alters systems. After a strike, nothing resumes exactly as before.
And that is the point.
The champion is no longer a sun that burns from a distance. He has become a figure capable of switching modes — son and father, Thor and Jupiter, discharge and containment. And Kim Dan, having undergone the reset, is no longer operating on inherited assumptions 
(chapter 86) or second-hand data. New information must now be gathered. New meanings must be negotiated. Because Joo Jaekyung acts differently (son-father), the doctor is incited to discuss with his fated lover and not to generalize. He is pushed to become curious about the main lead and even adapt himself in the end.
The system has rebooted. What follows will not be repetition — because the thunder forced a reset. What follows will be movement and reciprocity — because current has begun to pass from one side to the other and the reverse. A new circle has been created.
Dream Nights and Drugged Time: Why Chapters 39 and 44 Could Not Last
If episode 86 confronts us with electricity as reset, then we must return to the earlier nights that failed — not because desire was absent, but because time itself was compromised.
Many Jinx-lovers remember the night in the States 
(chapter 39) and the penthouse night 
(chapter 44) as emotionally charged, intense, even pivotal. Confessions were made. Bodies responded. Vulnerability appeared to surface. And yet, both nights collapsed almost immediately afterward. What was felt (chapter 44) did not endure. What was said did not bind. What was shared did not accumulate into change.
Why?
The simplest answer would be to blame the champion’s behavior. But this explanation is insufficient — and, in fact, misleading. The deeper issue is not ethical failure alone, but structural impossibility. These nights were built on illusion. And illusion, by definition, cannot sustain time.
Let us begin with the night in the States.
In chapter 39, Kim Dan experiences desire 
(chapter 39), arousal, and emotional exposure under the influence of a drugged beverage. His body reacts strongly, almost violently. His speech loosens. He confesses. (chapter 39) He voices feelings that he has never dared to articulate consciously. Many readers interpreted this moment as a breakthrough — the first time the doctor allowed himself to want.
And yet, the morning after reveals the fatal flaw: he does not remember. 
(chapter 40)
Memory loss is not a narrative convenience here. It is the core of the scene’s meaning. Without memory, desire cannot transform into intention. Without intention, intimacy cannot become choice. What remains is sensation without authorship.
In other words, the confession existed — but outside time.
The body spoke, but the self could not claim it. The night produced intensity, not continuity. More importantly, it denied Kim Dan the possibility of return. Because he did not remember, he could not revisit the moment, reinterpret it, or choose it anew. Desire occurred — but never became decision. The night passed through him without granting him authorship. At the same time, Joo Jaekyung made sure with his joke (chapter 41) that doc Dan shouldn’t remember that night. This remark left a deep wound on doc Dan’s soul and mind, thus he hoped not to look like a fool in episode 86. 
(chapter 86) In this panel, we should glimpse a reference to the night in the States as well, and not just to the night in the penthouse.
The intensity of that night is why the champion’s later obsession with recreating that night is so telling. (chapter 64) Deep down, he hoped that such a night had been real. That’s why he asked shortly after their return about this particular night. (chapter 41) The event floats, unmoored, like a dream recalled only by one participant. I would even add, the amnesia from the doctor even afflicted a wound on the main lead. This explains why in Paris, he keeps asking doc Dan if the later is well and is not suffering from a fever. (chapter 86) He wants to ensure that his fated lover won’t forget this night. He is doing everything to avoid a repetition from that “dream or fake night”, where the physical therapist acted as the perfect lover, but forgot it. However, observe that here, the champion is touching doc Dan’s forehead, a sign that he is making sure that doc Dan is not “lying” by coercion or submission. At the same time, such a gesture reinforces my interpretation: thanks to the “thunder”, heat is generated. “Le courant passe” (the current passes) through physical contact, that’s how they create intimacy and understanding.
The penthouse night in chapter 44 follows a similar structure, though its emotional register differs.
Here, it is Joo Jaekyung who is intoxicated. 
(chapter 44) The setting is elevated, luxurious, almost theatrical. The doctor is brought into a space of power that is not his own. 
(chapter 44) By acting that way, the athlete created a false impression of himself, as if he was still rational and clear-minded. Again, desire unfolds. 
(chapter 44) 
(chapter 44) Again, closeness occurs. And again, the aftermath reveals the same fracture.
The champion does not remember fully 
(chapter 45) and later wants to even forget it. (chapter 45) Why? It is because contrary to the night in the States, the MMA fighter left traces on doc Dan’s body 
(chapter 45) and he can not deny his own involvement and actions. Hence the doctor is left alone. Only he can recall this “dream”. 
(chapter 44) But memory alone is not power. Remembering without the other’s participation transforms recollection into isolation. Kim Dan cannot confront, confirm, or renegotiate what happened, exactly like the champion did in the past. Meaning freezes instead of evolving. Striking is that he came to associate feelings with addiction. 
(chapter 46) No wonder why later doc Dan had no problem to reject the athlete. And for him, the next morning became a cruel reality, even a nightmare. It wounded doc Dan’s heart and soul so much that he learned the following lesson: to not get deceived by impressions. Hence in Paris, Doc Dan tries to explain the change of the champion’s attitude with drunkenness. (chapter 86)
What matters is not simply abandonment, but asymmetry of consciousness. While Joo Jaekyung remembers the night in the States, the other remembers the night in the penthouse: 
(chapter 44) One participant is altered. The other must carry the weight of meaning alone. The night does not end in shared reflection, but in silence and absence.
In both cases, the problem is not sex. It is not even exploitation or ignorance— though both are present. The problem is that time cannot flow forward from these nights.
Why? Because drugs suspend causality.
Under intoxication, actions do not generate obligation. Words do not demand response. Feelings do not require follow-up. The night becomes sealed — intense within itself, but cut off from before and after. This is why these encounters feel dreamlike in retrospect. Not romantic dreams, but dissociative ones.
And Jinx insists on this reading visually.
In both chapters, speech is unstable. 
(chapter 44) Words blur, vanish, or are forgotten. Even gestures go unnoticed: a kiss, an embrace or a patting. Memory fractures. The morning after is defined not by continuity but by confusion. The body has moved forward, but the narrative has not.
This logic culminates in the fireworks scene of chapter 84 
(chapter 84)
Fireworks are often read as romance. But here, they function as warning. Fireworks illuminate the sky briefly, brilliantly — and then disappear. They leave no trace. And crucially, during this display, words are literally blurred. 
(chapter 84) Speech bubbles lose clarity. Confessions are obscured. The reader is denied access to meaning. Fireworks, like drugs, produce intensity without duration.
This is the crucial distinction that Part I prepared us for: heat versus current. Heat lingers. It can smother. It can burn. But it does not require connection. Current, by contrast, only exists if two points remain linked.
Chapters 39 and 44 are nights of heat. Bodies respond. Desire flares. But no circuit closes. No loop remains intact long enough for time to resume. This is why these nights are doomed — not morally, but structurally.
And this brings us to a crucial observation that many readers overlook.
In both of these earlier nights, questions are absent.
No one asks: “Are you okay?” 
(chapter 39) 
(chapter 44) It was as if these nights could only exist under altered states — as if clarity on either side would have made them impossible.
No one asks: “Do you remember?”
No one asks: “Why are you doing it?” “What does that mean to you?”
Speech exists, but it is not dialogic. It does not seek the other’s subjectivity. It spills, confesses, demands, judges or disappears. But it does not circulate. This is why, despite their intensity, these nights do not move the story forward. They collapse inward.
Episode 86, by contrast, will confront us with something radically different: a night that asks questions. 
(chapter 86)
But before we get there, we must acknowledge what these dream-nights leave behind.
They teach Kim Dan that desire is dangerous when it appears without agency. That closeness can dissolve overnight. That bodily truth does not guarantee recognition or even knowledge. And perhaps most importantly: that remembering alone is a burden. 
(chapter 86) This is why, when electricity returns in episode 86, it does not revive heat. It interrupts it. 
(chapter 86) That’s the reason why the athlete stops for a moment and asks doc Dan, if he needs a break. 
(chapter 86) This question is important because doc Dan admits his confusion and ignorance. He confesses to himself that he “knows nothing” not only about himself, but also about his fated lover. (chapter 86) The night is no longer sealed. It is permeable. Time resumes. (chapter 86) This signifies that thanks to the “champion’s thunder”, doc Dan was able to leave the vicious circle of “depression”. At the same time, such a confession implies that doc Dan’s present is no longer determined by the past and prejudices. And that is precisely why it matters.
From Drugged Time to Embodied Presence
If the earlier nights failed because time itself was compromised, then the question that naturally follows is this: what allows time to resume?
Chapters 39 and 44 taught us that intensity alone is not enough. Desire flared, bodies responded, confessions surfaced — and yet nothing endured. Not because feeling was false, but because consciousness was fractured. Words existed, but they did not circulate. Memory existed, but it was asymmetrical. Each night collapsed into silence the moment it ended.
Episode 86 emerges precisely at this fault line.
At first glance, it might seem quieter. Less dramatic. Less overtly confessional. And yet, this apparent restraint is deceptive. What changes here is not the presence of desire, but the medium through which meaning passes. What circulates between them in this night is not nostalgia, not projection, not even hope — but presence.
The sparks that punctuate episode 86 are not metaphorical excess. 
(chapter 86) They function as temporal markers. A spark exists only now. It has no duration. It cannot be stored, recalled, or anticipated. It appears — and vanishes. In this sense, electricity becomes the perfect visual language for the present moment itself.
Unlike heat, which lingers and can smother, current demands simultaneity. It requires two points to be active at the same time. The moment one withdraws, the circuit breaks. Sparks therefore signify not passion remembered or desired, but attention shared. This is why the night in episode 86 feels radically different from earlier encounters. At the end of episode 86, Kim Dan is no longer trapped in the past — replaying humiliation, abandonment or knowledge (as such arrogance). Nor is he projecting into the future at the end — fearing consequences, punishment, or loss. (chapter 86) For once, his thought does not spiral backward or forward. It halts. He decides to follow his heart again. (chapter 86)
The phrase carpe diem applies here not as romantic indulgence, but as psychological fact. To seize the day is not to ignore reality; it is to suspend temporal distortion. (chapter 86) In this night, neither character is reliving an old wound nor rehearsing a future defense. They are not remembering a dream. They are not trying to recreate one. They are simply there.
Electricity makes this visible. The body jolts. Thought fragments. Linear narration breaks. But unlike the drugged nights, this fragmentation does not produce amnesia. It produces grounding. Kim Dan’s repeated confusion — “I can’t think straight” — is not dissociation. (chapter 86) It is the absence of rumination.
This is what distinguishes presence from illusion. Illusion detaches the body from time. Presence anchors the body in time.
The sparks, then, do not represent chaos, rather emancipation and liberation. (chapter 86) Therefore the “hamster” can not control his voice and body. The sparks represent contact without temporal displacement. Both characters inhabit the same instant, without substitution, without rehearsal, without erasure. The present is no longer something to escape or survive. It becomes something that can be shared. That’s the reason why the two main leads are talking to each other.
And this is precisely why meaning finally begins to circulate.
If the first part (From Solar Heat to Electric Current) and second part ( Dream Nights and drugged time) traced how electricity replaces heat, and how illusion breaks time, then the next part turns to the most unsettling shift of all: the disappearance of words — and the emergence of the kiss as language.
No Words, But a Kiss: When Communication Changes Form
One of the most striking features of my illustration for episode 86 is the near absence of visible speech bubbles — even when Joo Jaekyung is clearly speaking. His mouth is open, his body leans in, his posture is attentive, and yet language is visually de-emphasized. Words are present, but they no longer dominate the frame.
By contrast, the star with the cut-off speech bubble appears elsewhere — suspended, incomplete. Language has not disappeared; it has lost its authority. It exists, but it is no longer imposed, no longer unilateral, no longer protected by distance.
This visual shift matters. (chapter 86) In earlier chapters, words often preceded erasure: confessions spoken under intoxication 
(chapter 10), statements blurred by drugs 
(chapter 43), sentences remembered by only one side. (chapter 39) Language functioned as exposure without continuity. Here, the narrative refuses that pattern. (chapter 86) It withholds verbal dominance so that something else can emerge. Kim Dan’s answer does not come in words. It comes as a kiss. (chapter 86) This gesture must not be misread as avoidance (silencing) or impulsivity. It is neither silence born of fear nor surrender to sensation. It is embodied communication — a mode forged by a history in which words were unsafe, unreliable, or followed by disappearance. The kiss articulates what cannot yet be stabilized in language without being lost again.
It says: I am here. And more importantly: I accept this moment. Not the future. Not the consequences. The present. But this action catches the MMA fighter by surprise, as in the athlete’s mind, Doc Dan has never initiated a kiss before except in the States, but the doctor doesn’t remember it. At the same time, it is clear that the athlete has not been confronted by his own amnesia concerning the night of his birthday: doc Dan had kissed him there too, thus the celebrity had been able to make doc Dan smile 
(chapter 44) and even laugh…. if only he could remember that night…
Crucially, this act in episode 86 (chapter 86) cannot be neutralized by Joo Jaekyung’s habitual reflexes — the “it’s nothing” 
(chapter 79), the “never mind”, 
(chapter 84) or it is a mistake, the easy erasure that once dissolved meaning after the fact. The kiss interrupts that mechanism. It produces a pause that cannot be talked over. It forces reflection. (chapter 86) Joo Jaekyung will have to ponder on the signification of such a kiss.
For the first time, meaning does not vanish once contact is made.
The kiss therefore marks a decisive transformation in how communication functions between them. Words are not rejected; they are postponed. Language is no longer the condition for intimacy, but its consequence. What circulates first is presence.
And this is why the kiss belongs structurally to the logic of current introduced earlier. Current does not explain itself. It passes — or it does not. It requires proximity, consent, and mutual contact. Once established, it cannot be undone by denial. Hence the champion reciprocates the gesture. (chapter 86) He is even kissing with open eyes, as though he desired not forget this wonderful night. In episode 86, communication no longer seeks to protect itself through speech. It risks itself through embodiment. And that risk, precisely because it is accepted rather than anticipated, changes everything.
First Conclusion — When Conditions Change
With the symbolic framework established, the earlier nights revisited, and the forms of communication closely examined, the analysis has already progressed far enough to reconsider the nature of the night in episode 86.
By moving through these successive angles — from mythological and elemental references, to nights compromised by illusion, to the transformation of how meaning is exchanged — one point becomes clear: this night is not just defined by intensity, tenderness, or redemption. It is also defined by changed conditions.
When electricity replaces heat (chapter 86), power ceases to be unilateral and becomes relational (sky and earth). Thunder does not linger or dominate; it strikes, interrupts, and resets. The champion is no longer read as a solar figure imposing force from above, but as a conductor within a circuit that requires reciprocity.
When the earlier nights are reexamined, their failure appears not as emotional insufficiency but as structural impossibility. Desire existed, but time could not flow. Drugs suspended causality, fractured memory, and sealed each encounter inside itself. What remained were dream-nights — vivid, intense, and ultimately unsustainable. Yet, they left wounds. (chapter 86) At the same time, it becomes clear that this moment in Paris embodies the convergence of two memories and two nights which helps them to recreate a new night marked by desires and communication. So this night will generate new memories and push them to redefine their relationship.
Finally, when attention shifts to communication itself, episode 86 reveals a decisive reconfiguration. (chapter 86) Meaning no longer relies on speech that can be blurred, forgotten, or denied. It circulates through presence. The kiss interrupts fear without abolishing clarity. Kim Dan does not forget the future; he accepts the risk of setting it aside. For the first time, current passes while both remain conscious, present, and aware.
One image quietly condenses this transformation. (chapter 86)
Kim Dan almost sits on Joo Jaekyung’s lap. (chapter 86) Earlier in the narrative, this posture belonged to another body. 
(chapter 19) The grandmother’s lap structured Kim Dan’s understanding of safety, endurance, and knowledge. Sitting there meant being held — but also being taught how to survive through sacrifice, silence, and self-effacement. That worldview sustained him, but it also confined him.
In episode 86, the posture is almost repeated — but the figure has changed.
This is not a romantic substitution. It is a symbolic shift. The body that now supports Kim Dan does not transmit inherited rules or fixed certainties. It asks questions. It pauses. It waits for response. He is actually more sitting between his legs or on his arms. In this moment, Kim Dan is no longer receiving knowledge about how to endure the world; he is participating in how to inhabit it.
From this point, a first answer to the guiding question emerges.
Episode 86 is neither illusion nor culmination. It does not redeem the past, nor does it erase it. It alters the framework within which meaning can circulate. Time resumes not because wounds have healed, but because they are no longer governing the present by default.
What remains unresolved — and what now demands further attention — is what follows from this shift.
If communication has changed form, how does unpredictability change meaning? If presence has been established, how does recognition operate without erasing the past? And if two nights once marked by failure now converge within the same moment, what does that convergence produce?
These questions open the next stage of the analysis.
The following sections will therefore turn away from possibility and toward consequence: how agency is reclaimed, how repetition acquires new ethical weight, and how two previously incompatible trajectories finally begin to add rather than cancel each other out.
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(chapter 85) represents the positive reflection of this night 
(chapter 58) 
(chapter 58), when the physical therapist chose to give up on the athlete and stop listening to his heart. Here, I am not only referring to the numerical symmetry but also to the doctor’s shifting vision of Joo Jaekyung.
(chapter 85), Jaekyung appears with a towel around his neck. This simple object evokes water and sweat, but in Jinx, these elements are never neutral. They are tied to one of the champion’s earliest traumas: the humiliation of being called “dirty” 
(chapter 75) and “smelly” as a child. This is why Jaekyung learned to perfuse his body with cologne after every shower 
(chapter 75) and why physical proximity has always carried the risk of shame. Hence he kept people at arms length. In chapter 40, when he rescued Kim Dan from the security guards, he kept his distance 
(chapter 40) — he had not yet showered, for the towel on his shoulders was stained with blood. Mingwa was indirectly referring to the champion’s psychological wounds. 
(chapter 40) It was, as if the fear of smelling “wrong,” of being perceived as contaminated, was still dictating his movements. Hence he could only claim doc Dan as one of his own, but not as his “physical therapist” or even “family”. And interesting is that doc Dan copied his attitude. In the hallway, he maintained a certain distance from the athlete. 
(chapter 40)
(chapter 40) the moment he dried off 
(chapter 85) His hair is unstyled, his scent unmasked — and yet he approaches Dan without hesitation. He even kisses him. The item that once symbolized rejection now signifies trust: without fragrance, he is certain that doc Dan will not call him “dirty,” will not recoil, will not shame him. What once provoked distance becomes an unexpected bridge, revealing that Jaekyung is finally letting someone remain close, when he feels most vulnerable. The night in Paris does not simply suggest a return of desire; it announces the return of hope 
(chapter 85) and trust — and perhaps even the moment when Dan chooses, for the first time, to be honest with his own body and heart. 
(chapter 85) 
(chapter 85) — fulfilling, without knowing it, a secret wish the physical therapist has harbored since childhood 
(chapter 61) [I will elaborate it further later]. And perhaps this is why the moment feels so disarming: because the downfall is not tragic but tender, not humiliating but intimate. Sweet, even.
(chapter 85), when a single careless comment shattered the champion’s composure and revealed just how fragile his newfound hope really was.
(chapter 85) In contrast, both Park Namwook and coach Jeong Yosep wear generic MFC T-shirts. 
(chapter 85) Dan is lost in his thoughts — anticipating the night ahead with the champion — and has barely touched his food. Park Namwook notices this. One might think, such a remark displays the manager’s concern for the main lead’s well-being. However, the manager adds that the other members of the team are all almost finished. With such a remark, it becomes clear that the manager is urging the protagonist to finish his plate. Although Park Namwook addresses Dan as if showing concern, the content of his remark betrays his true priority: not Dan’s well-being, but the team’s schedule. By pointing out that ‘the rest of us are almost finished,’ he urges Dan to keep pace, treating him as staff who had to follow the group rather than someone with personal needs. As you can sense, schedule is essential for the manager. However, because doc Dan couldn’t reveal the true reason behind his behavior, he gives an excuse for his lack of appetite. 
(chapter 53) The manager’s words bring Joo Jaekyung back to reality and its uncomfortable truth that Dan’s presence now is still bound to a contract — temporary, contingent, never fully his. In other words, with his remarks, Park Namwook is reopening old wounds which shows his total blindness and lack of finesse and of empathy. He treats the last match, as if nothing bad had happened. The incident with the switched spray is simply erased.
(chapter 53) leaving without thinking; now, after Dan vanished from his life entirely, that earlier departure feels like a sign he failed to read. Park’s question brushes against this bruise, and Jaekyung’s lips reflect the discomfort.
(chapter 85) The younger fighter suddenly bursts into panic, declaring how nervous he would be in Jaekyung’s place, how his heart would be pounding out of his chest. His outburst is sincere, naïve, and completely focused on the champion — he never once considers Dan’s feelings. Yet these words strike deeper than he intends. At the mention of a pounding heart, Jaekyung’s eyes lift upward in a brief, involuntary movement. It is the smallest gesture, but it exposes everything he wishes to hide. Because his heart is pounding — but not for the match. It is because of doc Dan! 
(chapter 85) “Come to my room at 11.”
(chapter 85) the need for reassurance, the wish to rewrite the pattern of the past, the quiet hope that Dan will not leave him again — not tonight and not afterwards.
(chapter 85) Schedules are his armor, punctuality his hiding place. Whenever something threatens to slip beyond control, he retreats behind procedure. 
(chapter 85), as soon as the athlete stands up right after his recommendation and announces he is now returning to his room. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 85) In theory, this is the perfect window to do what he used to do in the States 
(chapter 38) and Korea 
(chapter 48) before a big fight: watch his opponent’s videos, study their habits, rehearse counters. If we only looked at the clock, we might assume he spent the evening thinking about Arnaud Gabriel.
(chapter 85) From 7:02 onward, the question is no longer “How do I beat Gabriel?” but “How do I win doc Dan’s heart?” The clock from 7:02 to 11:00 p.m. stops being a “training window” and becomes an emotional countdown. He is no longer the champion preparing for an opponent—he is the man hoping not to be abandoned again. This is why the later scene at the door feels so contradictory: when Dan finally arrives, Jaekyung behaves like someone who couldn’t wait. 
(chapter 85) He opens the door and immediately grabs him inside 
(chapter 85), cutting off any possibility of hesitation. The way he drags him over the threshold, presses him against the wall 
(chapter 85) This is not the controlled, casual emperor of old; it is someone who has been holding back for hours and refuses to risk even a second in which Dan might change his mind. 
(chapter 65) and the comment of the champion in front of this movie: 
(chapter 29) Moreover, I consider this scene 
(chapter 85) as a new version of Choi Heesung’s advice: Doc Dan just needs to sit back and enjoy!! 
(chapter 31) Joo Jaekyung is now doing everything, as deep down he wants to become the perfect lover! And how had I described the night in the States? 
Back then, the hamster Dan had become the champion’s perfect lover, especially because he had kissed his face, hugged him and confessed to him. 
(chapter 38) One might reply that the athlete desired to maintain appearances and as such to hide his suffering and anxiety. In other words, he was hiding his emotions behind routine, Jinx-sex would always start at 11 pm. However, this idea is not entirely satisfying because once doc Dan was in his room, the fighter was no longer hiding his emotions and desires. 
(chapter 72), when the latter would return late from his “work” and the death of his father 
(chapter 73). 
(chapter 85) Because doc Dan could have refused. He could have used his queasiness as an excuse, could have stayed in his room, could have claimed exhaustion. Instead, he obeyed the request — a request sent by someone who had hurt him deeply in the past. Doc Dan’s arrival is proof that he is not rejecting him. Proof that the night is real. Proof that the attempt to do better might actually matter. At the same time, doc Dan couldn’t miss the true meaning behind this text sent in front of others: the athlete’s anxiety and suffering. 
(chapter 85) This explains why his worried gaze followed his fated partner. 
(chapter 85) In other words, the text had a different meaning. It was not an order, but rather a wish…and it had nothing to do with his match against Arnaud Gabriel. During that night, Joo Jaekyung is not seeing a surrogate fighter in front of him or a sex toy, but his real partner, his future boyfriend. This means, this night stands in opposition to the one in the penthouse: 
(chapter 85) This is why he touches Dan’s face instead of flipping him over.
(chapter 85) — something he has never done before. This does not come from instinct. It comes from intention. It comes from effort. It comes from learning. He is indeed showering doc Dan with love and tenderness, therefore it is not surprising that the “hamster” is moved sensually and emotionally. Exactly like during the Summer Night’s Dream, he is reaching nirvana, hence Jinx-philes are constantly seeing stars,. 
(chapter 85) 
(chapter 85) — or the emotional slip that comes with resurfacing feelings: the therapist losing distance, falling back into intimacy. All of these readings sound plausible at first glance. 
(chapter 85) Styled up, hardened with gel 
(chapter 30) , perfectly arranged — it is the crown of the Emperor, the symbol of his control, his discipline, and the myth that MFC sells:
(chapter 82) When the hair stands, the image stands.
(chapter 85) — but not the way adults or professionals usually do. 
(chapter 71) So doc Dan could recognize the little boy in the athlete, the more he sees the protagonist with his hair down. Furthermore, I noticed that contrary to season 1, Doc Dan has now more memories of the “wolf” facing him. 
(chapter 85) In the past, he would more look at him from behind: 
(chapter 35) 
(chapter 35) Seeing his face reflects not only the increasing care for each other, but also the improving communication between them. 
(chapter 85) more mature, more “masculine” in the traditional sense. This explicates why the stylists had to dress him up. 
(chapter 82) Yet such an intervention did more than prepare him for the cameras — it tightened the restrictions around his own image, reducing the fighter’s rights over how he appears to the world. With the suit, he appeared older and more powerful. The French fighter leans into age, while the Korean champion leans into youth — a symbolic inversion that reinforces the central tension in the Paris arc: Gabriel performs adulthood; Jaekyung rediscovers the adolescence he never lived. 
(chapter 85) But just as Jaekyung begins to slip into these youthful, softer identities, MFC reasserts control.
(chapter 85) hair up, face polished, a look engineered for posters and rankings. He becomes once again the Emperor — the man who must appear older, sharper, more intimidating, more manufactured.
(chapter 79) This is the boy from the childhood photograph.
In the rain, with his hair heavy and unstyled, his gaze dark and sensual, Jaekyung appears nothing like the commanding emperor. He looks free — freed by weather, freed by desire, freed from roles. It was foreshadowing, not just fanservice. It announces the end of the « jinx » in reality. 
(chapter 85) He is describing himself. His sweetness is the taste of freedom — freedom from performance, freedom from control, freedom from MFC, freedom from fear. He is enjoying this moment. Dan tastes sweet because Jaekyung is finally tasting the life he never allowed himself to want.
(chapter 21) The image of winged rescue and divine protection hangs over the very piece of furniture that, throughout the series, has functioned as Dan’s private sanctuary. This is not incidental. In Jinx, the couch is tied to his deepest memories of care and abandonment, and Mingwa activates this symbolism each time Dan gravitates to it.
(chapter 21) Why does he consistently feel safer on the couch than in a bed? 
(chapter 29) Why, after the second swimming lesson, did he refuse to return to the bed 
(chapter 81), even though he was exhausted? Why does he place the teddy bear 
(chapter 84) —his last substitute for lost parental affection—on the couch and not on the bed? And finally, why has he always harbored the secret wish to be carried to bed, as confessed through his memory in chapter 61? 
(chapter 10) Secondly, at no moment, we ever witness the grandmother carrying the little boy to bed. Either she is rocking him to sleep outside the house 
(chapter 47) or he is already in the bed. We never see her bringing him to bed. 
(chapter 44), 
(chapter 44) traces from parents. And now, you comprehend why the hamster could never truly rest in the bed. The couch is therefore not an adult preference; it is a trauma imprint. Resting there feels safe because beds—large, empty, abandoned spaces—became reminders of whoever no longer carried him. Hence it is no longer surprising that he woke up, when he sensed the vanishing of warmth. 
(chapter 84): the bear stands in for a lost comforting presence. It also represents the main lead, Joo Jaekyung. The latter is gradually reentering in the physical therapist’s heart and life. Therefore it is not surprising that there, he squeezes the hand of the toy. It is also why Doc Dan curls around it like a child who deep down hopes to be chosen, lifted, and held. And it is why, even as an adult, his body still whispers the same yearning: someone, please carry me to bed again.
chapter 40, chapter 65, chapter 68, chapter 79)
(chapter 85) and he was still able to arrive on time in the arena. 
(chapter 40) For me, it is a clue that the manager would always request to meet around 7.00 am, when the match was at noon. But what should do the athlete do during all this time? He can only get nervous and feel pressured. 
(chapter 81) I noticed that in different scenes from season 2, the athlete started waking up later and even after doc Dan. 
(chapter 66) But the manager’s rigid schedule threatens even that. An early morning summons drains the fighter’s cortisol reserves before the match has even begun, creating a long, empty corridor of waiting — a period where tension, anxiety, fatigue, and irritation ferment in the body. Instead of resting, centering, and preparing, the champion would spend hours fighting against the clock imposed on him.
(chapter 54) , he might even jump to the wrong conclusion: that Jaekyung drank again — this time behind his back. 
(chapter 82) The irony is striking. Two days before the match, it was Park Namwook who overindulged with the others, yet he may now project that same carelessness onto the athlete. In his mind, the DND sign does not simply mean “rest”; it becomes a warning signal, a possible confirmation of the irresponsibility he fears but has never actually witnessed. Thus I can already imagine him panicking.
(chapter 82), his look 
(chapter 82), his free time and took care of the champion’s emotional needs. In Paris, the « hamster » became the champion’s manager de facto, the unofficial right-hand. That’s why if they are late and they need a scapegoat, the manager can blame the physical therapist for the « delay », he would always come late to appointments (chapter 17: meeting the doctor) and to the fights (Busan, in the States).
(chapter 84) Readers have replayed the blurred panel again and again, straining to decipher the muffled shapes of his mouth. Some are convinced that this is the confession, the moment the wolf finally says aloud what his body has been whispering for months. One Jinx-phile, 
just enough to match the Korean 좋아해 김단 (jo-a-hae Kim Dan)—“I like you, Kim Dan.”
(chapter 84) —especially Japanese summer festivals where boys and girls, dressed in yukata, confess beneath crackling skies. Fireworks symbolize joy, romance, fleeting courage. It is no wonder many readers assumed that Mingwa was drawing on this cultural grammar: purple night sky, glowing lights, two lonely figures suspended above the world. A confession seems almost inevitable. And if it truly was a love declaration, then the champion’s refusal to repeat himself 
(chapter 62) 
(chapter 77) Why does Joo Jaekyung speak exactly when the fireworks begin, as if choosing the one moment when he is guaranteed to be drowned out? 
(chapter 84) Was he truly confessing love—or was he trying to verbalize something far more raw, far more primitive, far more difficult?
(chapter 76) and 79 
(chapter 79), where he “speaks” only when the other man cannot truly hear him. At the hostel, the mumbling was barely audible: yet according to my observation and deduction, doc Dan seems to have caught something. as later we discover this scene from the champion’s memory: 
(chapter 77) He already knew that the athlete was standing next to him. However, observe that this vision focused on the doctor’s gaze was accompanied with silence. This means, doc Dan acted, as if he had heard nothing. So if he heard, what did the physical therapist catch exactly in the kitchen? “I lost…”, but it was devoid of any context. Doc Dan had no idea what the director Hwang Byungchul had advised to his former student. 
(chapter 75) He could not know that “I lost” referred to something far more intimate: Jaekyung losing control over his own emotional detachment, he was totally vulnerable in front of doc Dan. His heart was stronger than his “mind and fists”. Naturally, if Kim Dan interpreted the phrase at all, he would connect it to the only “loss” he understood: the tie with Baek Junmin. A humiliating defeat. A source of shame. This misinterpretation perfectly explains why in the cabin, the hamster immediately assumes that the champion is once again determined to regain his title: 
(chapter 84) He is taking the champion’s words at face-value. 
(chapter 77) He trusts the explanation Jaekyung himself gave under the tree. And here lies the deeper revelation: Kim Dan’s misunderstanding exposes the true meaning of the tree confession. Why did Jaekyung suddenly accept the match? Why frame it entirely in terms of “I need you for these two fights”?
(chapter 84) A deadline designed to keep Kim Dan close without revealing the depth of the emotional dependency underneath. Finally, before we even analyze posture or timing, we must acknowledge the ghost that is sitting inside the cabin with them — Jaekyung’s own admission of dishonesty. Just minutes earlier, the narrative revealed again a thought he had never dared to voice aloud: 
(chapter 84) This is the language of surrender — not to defeat, but to vulnerability and selflessness. The champion who once insisted on keeping Kim Dan “one way or another” (chapter 84) now articulates the opposite impulse: the willingness to release him, to give him a choice. 
(chapter 84) Thus for me, in the cabin the champion became, for a moment, the boy with no mother’s gaze, no father’s protection, no safe place to rest. He must have said something cheesy, something a young person would say. Purity returns before experience does. Honesty returns before articulation. And in that moment inside the cabin, Mingwa makes a decisive artistic choice: we do not see Jaekyung’s eyes. 
(chapter 84) This pigment stands for innocence, purity, new beginnings and even equity. 
(chapter 84) Because they were not yet meant to be received, only meant to be released. The fireworks allow him to finally attempt a more honest sentence, but in conditions where it cannot reach its target.
(chapter 81) Yet this is also the limit of what he can say.
(chapter 79) Thus he could see the athlete’s mouth moving and hear sound. Nevertheless, observe that the moment the wolf reached to the doctor’s words, he bowed his head and looked down. From this 
(chapter 79) to this 
(chapter 79) However, he doesn’t fear coldness, but ridicule and mockery, the father’s gaze: 
(chapter 73) Under this light, people can grasp why Joo Jaekyung was not facing doc Dan directly in the cabin. To conclude, the mechanism is identical, but amplified. 
(chapter 73) Besides, the head of her position is indicating that she was not looking at her son, the boy was hiding his face from Joo Jaewoong and his mother. Then his father mocked him, degraded him, and used resemblance as an insult: “
(chapter 74) or his mother (a poor but good mother), he was not seen for whom he was: a child, a boy. Jinx consistently links sight with recognition, and recognition with love. 
(chapter 53) Jaekyung has never been granted either. 
(Chapter 45) Thus when he got upset with the present, he indirectly expressed the wish to be « looked at ». Moreover, in his visions or memories, this is what he keeps seeing: 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 75) Doc Dan’s gaze!
(chapter 51) And for the first time, Jaekyung freezes. 
(chapter 51) His breath catches; his eyes widen. It is the moment he realizes his mistake. He never thought that doc Dan had been trusting him. That moment marks the first rupture in his emotional armor, not only because it hurt, but because it revealed. He realizes with terror that he wants to be seen by Kim Dan, but when he faced such a gaze, he could only feel guilty and bad. Thus it is not surprising that later, his nightmare let transpire his guilty conscience. 
(chapter 82), as the champion has always used his surroundings as a source of inspiration. 
(chapter 84) The gaze under the fireworks triggers emotions in him. Thus he blurted out something. But for me, he does not know how to say “I love you.” He cannot even say “I like you.” Those sentences belong to someone who has matured emotionally — someone who can identify feelings properly, but so far he keeps saying: “to stay by his side” and his « affection declarations » were all linked to negativity.. Thus my idea was that Joo Jaekyung could have said this: “I want to hold you!” (안고 싶어 너). Let’s not forget that so far, the champion had never expressed such a longing before; a warm embrace. He would always follow his instincts: 
(chapter 4) 
(chapter 69) The hug represents a metaphor for “staying by his side, for home and to be seen”. Moreover, in French embrasser can mean kiss and hug. And strangely, I noticed that the protagonists were never looking at each other during an embrace. 
(chapter 65) It is for “babies”. No wonder why he retracted immediately.
(chapter 84) Here, the doctor looks sad and wounded. His eyes are unfocused — he is not seeing the present. The water running down his eyelashes gives the impression of tears, even though he is not crying. His gaze is distant, fixed on something internal. His mouth looks tense, almost trembling. The mouth especially is a clue: Kim Dan’s emotions always gather there when something from the past resurfaces.This is the expression of someone thrown into an involuntary flashback. He is inside a memory. This explicates why this scene is similar to the champion’s shower after the latter had met Baek Junmin: 
(chapter 49) 
(chapter 49) Both scenes show a man pulled violently into a buried memory. Thus, my assumption is simple: the champion said something that pierced straight into Kim Dan’s oldest wound and brought his trauma to the surface. And this brings me to my next observation. Inside the cabin, there are not two people — there are three: the champion, the therapist, and the Teddy Bear. 
(chapter 84) Furthermore, we have a window. We have a phone (dead, but present). We have a childlike toy — symbol of stolen innocence.
(chapter 84) And now, look again at episode 19: 
(chapter 19) A window with no view. Three figures: halmoni, the boy, and the phone placed between them like a knife. And the sound structure is identical, but reversed:
(chapter 56) In other words, wearing black is more than just a change of personality or mourning. It becomes the color of mystery, the beginning of descent into truth. 
(chapter 79) on the night table. 
(chapter 84) Every time innocence is ripped away, a teddy bear disappears from the story.
(chapter 82) will happen linked to the protagonists’ past (recent and childhood). Let’s not forget that doc Dan still has no idea what Joo Jaekyung went through after his departure: the slap, the drinking, the headache and the indifference of Team Black, just like the athlete has no idea about the blacklisting and bullying in the physical therapist’s past. 
(chapter 84) So by wearing black, doc Dan indicates that he is gradually becoming responsible for Team Blackand Joo Jaekyung the athlete. 
(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.
(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 1) pulled him back to duty or scarcity. Happiness belonged to others; he lived on the margins, always working, always surviving. But here, in the brightness of the amusement park 
(chapter 83), his gaze is finally unshackled. He looks outward and takes in the warmth of strangers’ affection without translating it into loss or longing. 
(chapter 83), 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 65) However, observe that here, she feigns ignorance, she doesn’t know the origins of this metamorphosis. On the other hand, it is clear that she is well aware of the cause. He worked to support them both. He paid the hospital bills. He negotiated the debts. He shouldered the responsibility of survival.
(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) 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) 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) 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 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 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) 
(chapter 84), but wise enough to regret immediately. 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 46) The champion also played “dumb”. Thus the pillow got punched later. 
(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 80).
(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 78) The subtext is unmistakable: she expected obedience, efficiency, not attachment. Furthermore, her final instruction—“Make sure you see a doctor regularly”— 
(chapter 65) suddenly speaks as though time is running out. 
(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 47) There was no curiosity about his career, no acknowledgment of his competence—only the quiet satisfaction that through her endurance, she had produced a “doctor.” In the graduation photo, she even wears the mortarboard herself, smiling with the pride of someone who believes the diploma justifies a lifetime of sacrifice. Her grandson’s success confirms her own virtue; his “adulthood” validates her survival. This question to the athlete exposes her lack of interests in his profession: 
(chapter 65)
(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 47) is, in truth, a legend she wrote about herself. When Kim Dan recalls that “she’s never had a day’s rest,” the statement reveals more about his belief than about her reality. The woman who claimed endless labor also knew the comfort of “weekends” 
(chapter 30) — she watched The Fine Line, the very drama that made Choi Heesung famous. The detail seems trivial, yet it exposes everything: she had leisure 
(chapter 30), she simply refused to call it that. Watching television was permitted because it was passive, solitary, and could be rationalized as recuperation, not pleasure. In contrast, genuine rest — time shared, chosen, or joyful — never existed in her vocabulary. What she denied was not the existence of rest but the act of resting with him. She kept her downtime to herself, as if peace were a private possession. For her, love meant providing, not accompanying. Yet true care requires presence — sharing is caring, as the saying goes. [For more read this essay: 
(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 65) Her constant bookkeeping—every favor tallied, every gift framed as trouble—betrays a hidden fear: that if she stops keeping score, she will lose him. Rather than grant him autonomy, she entrusts him to another caretaker. Sending him to the champion is not an act of faith but of resignation, a way to offload responsibility while maintaining the illusion of control.
(chapter 11), scarf tied under her chin, carrying a single sweet bun. She doesn’t need to say she “went out of her way”—her action already proclaims it. The effort is the gift. 
(chapter 11) That simple walk to the store becomes a moral event, proof of affection through fatigue. 
(chapter 11) Even the smallest purchase is framed as sacrifice. The sweet bread itself—a cheap red bean bun—is less nourishment than testimony: “Look what I endured for you.” If he had followed her, he would have seen that it didn’t take so much effort and money to buy the “present”. Finally, he had to share the sweet bread with his grandmother.
(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 65) and the future 
(chapter 41) When Dan gifts his grandmother an expensive scarf, he hides its true price — “I got it for a bargain” — repeating her own pattern of disguised generosity. She sees through the lie, teasing him for “spoiling” her, yet she accepts the luxury without feeling guilty. The scarf becomes her version of the hoodie: a fabric trophy of moral worth. But its later disappearance is revealing. In season two, she wears it 
(chapter 56) shortly after her arrival at the hospice, never again. When she greets Joo Jaekyung, the scarf is gone 
(chapter 61). Why? One might reply that the scarf lost its value, especially since she is living next to the director’s room. I doubt that such men would pay attention to such an object. Another possibility is that she fears its brightness might betray her neglect, for the champion has lived with her grandson for a while. How could she display silk while her grandson owns almost nothing? 
(chapter 80) The missing scarf thus exposes both her superficiality and exaggerated generosity. Her affection, like her pride, is short-lived — decorative rather than enduring. Should Heesung ever visit her, 
(chapter 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 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.
(chapter 76) For the first time, he uses the expression you’re right in front of his fated partner. He seems to concede with this idiom. Yet this apparent submission hides a deeper reversal. By admitting Jaekyung never asked for his help, he redirects the exchange toward his own truth: the loneliness of having no one to care for you. 
(chapter 76) What unfolds in the kitchen is not a quarrel about porridge but a fragile recognition. Dan’s “You’re right” acknowledges Jaekyung’s perspective without bitterness, while Jaekyung’s “I lost” 
(chapter 9) 
(chapter 76) The kitchen scene closes one cycle and announces another. 
(Chapter 76) In this view, his fixation would be the product of ambition, pride, or ego: the expected cost of survival in a cage where only victory pays. 
(chapter 76), because the adults in his life cut them off before they could exist. Winning became his only mode of survival because every formative argument in his youth ended in defeat, and not the kind decided by a referee. With his father, mother, coach, and manager, words never led to recognition — only to insult, silence, utility, or obedience. He learned early that dialogue could not protect him; only victory could. His victories were not chosen freely, but forced into being by guardians who made him feel like a burden, until relationships themselves became burdens.
“(chapter 73). It was not just defiance; it was a vow that victory would silence abuse once and for all. When he returned with the trophy, he shouted triumphantly, 
(chapter 73) ready at last to claim, “I was right.” Yet reality betrayed him. His father’s death denied him the only acknowledgment he had sought. 
(chapter 74) At the funeral he remained dry-eyed, his face locked in shame (ch. 74). No one saw his guilt, but it consumed him: the one man he needed to hear “I was right” from could no longer answer. At the same time, his smile and laugh were also linked to misery. For Jaekyung, laughter was never the sound of joy, but the echo of mockery and rejection due to the father. Just as tears became tied to betrayal and abandonment through his mother, so too did his father twist laughter into a weapon 
(chapter 72) To the boy, she was not silent at first: she must have definitely told him to become strong, to endure, to wait. She gave him her number, leaving the illusion that her departure was not abandonment but necessity. Victory and wealth became her conditions for love. That is why he swore over the payphone to work hard 
(chapter 72) and “make money” so she could return, and why after his father’s death he still hoped for her homecoming. 
(chapter 74) But when the calls went unanswered, her silence became the sharpest weapon of all. Her eventual reply 
(chapter 74) confirmed that his effort had never mattered. For the first time, he cried 
(chapter 74), his tears expressed not just grief but the recognition of betrayal. From then on, tears themselves became equated with loss, weakness, and abandonment. This is why, in the wolf’s nightmare, Dan’s crying form 
(chapter 76) appears: the sight of tears recalls the moment he unconsciously realized that even his mother’s “you’re right” was a lie. At the same time, those tears function as a mirror. The champion projects onto Dan the very weakness he has always forbidden himself to show. 
(chapter 76), the boy he once was who longed to weep but had to swallow it down. At the same time, Jaekyung himself occupies the place of the “adult” — 
(chapter 74) Hence the wolf’s tears were quickly replaced by rage and violence. 
(chapter 74)
(chapter 76) His trembling hand upon waking 
(chapter 76) shows the yearning to be held, comforted, reassured — something he never received from either parent. He is not entirely responsible for the physical therapist’s suffering. And here lies the difference: Dan’s tears are not manipulative or hypocritical , like the ones Jaekyung suspects from his mother, but unfiltered honesty. He expressed his emotions, not just through tears, but also through body language! 
(chapter 74), whose quiet devotion and silence kept the gym alive, nor Jaekyung’s, whose absence he accepted without challenge. 
(chapter 72) In fact, his own mother’s submission reinforced this flaw: her blind trust in her son, her refusal to question his choices and the boxing world, taught him that authority need not be examined, only endured or seen as trustworthy. For him, hierarchy was unquestionable, and so he perpetuated it. Thus he stands for lack of critical thinking. This is why, with Hwang, the vocabulary of “right” and “wrong” was never about dialogue but about obedience. No wonder why he became so violent at the police station. 
(chapter 74) Unlike Jaewoon’s domination or the mother’s evasive silence, Hwang cloaked his authority in the language of advice — yet beneath it lay a black-and-white dualism: winners and losers, villains and victims. Thus Joo Jaewoon was blamed for becoming a thug 
(chapter 74), while the wolf’s mother was a victim. He viewed her as a selfless and caring mother: 
(chapter 74)And observe how he provoked the main lead. 
(chapter 74) When Hwang sneers, “What, am I wrong? Come on, answer me!” he is not inviting dialogue — he is staging a trap. The question is rhetorical, a demand for submission. Let’s not forget that he had witnessed the phone call in front of the funeral hall, but back then he had done nothing. And when the boy hesitates 
(chapter 74), unable to answer, Hwang strikes him in the chest. 
(chapter 74)and justifies his action behind social norms. 
(chapter 74) In that instant, he takes the role of judge, referee, and executioner, collapsing “argument” into violence. The very words “Am I wrong?” contain the irony: the coach is less interested in truth than in reasserting his own authority. Silence is treated as guilt, hesitation as defeat.
(chapter 74), he effectively admitted “you’re right” to the coach. Yet this wasn’t simply genuine agreement — it was submission, respect mixed with survival. The director misread it as validation of his worldview. This only reinforced his certainty, encouraging him never to reconsider his role. 
(chapter 74) When the protagonist finally left, the director could declare with satisfaction: 
t(chapter 74). 
(chapter 74) The reality was that the old man had never truly become the star’s home and family, which explains why he constantly leaned on other adults, the mother or the father, to provide the guidance he himself refused to give. At the same time, I come to the following deduction: he must have lost his boxing studio, and with its vanishing, the elder was forced to face “reality”: loneliness, sickness and absence of happiness in his life! 
(chapter 70) Once again, Jaekyung is reduced to “that bastard” — a label, not a person — while Dan is framed as the pitiable victim. The old coot remains the righteous observer, untouched by guilt, protected by a rhetoric that always shifts responsibility elsewhere.
(chapter 75) He was happy again, though he initially tried to hide it. We have to envision that before the wolf’s visit, the elder had to face what his own life outside the gym looked like: sickness, solitude, the collapse of the studio that had sustained him and came to resent the main lead. Yet, Joo Jaekyung’s behavior changed everything: 
(chapter 71) 
(chapter 71) Only during the champion’s visit, did his words alter.On the rooftop of the hospice, he finally tells Jaekyung: 
(chapter 76) It is not too late. The question “Am I too late?” is the consequence of Hwang byungchul’s words and it gradually indicates the switch in the champion’s mentality. It is no longer about being right or wrong. However, the nightmare reveals another aspect: the world is not black and white, but grey. 
(chapter 76) Hence he remained silent and avoided his gaze. But like the director showed it, it is never too late: 
(chapter 76)
(chapter 69) Thus my avid readers might jump to the conclusion that his biggest flaw is blindness, similar to the director. Besides, I had often criticized him for his blindness and ignorance. However, this is just a deception. The manager’s real defect is actually his deafness. How so? He does not hear Jaekyung’s words 
(chapter 17) at all. The verity is that he refuses to listen to his thoughts and emotions 
(chapter 31) in good 
(chapter 45) or in bad times. It goes so far, he does not take his silences seriously, and does not register his pain. This explicates why the manager saw in the champion’s silence at the restaurant as an agreement for a new fight! 
(chapter 69) His role is not to guide or protect, but to extract: money, victories, publicity. 
(chapter 75) In my opinion, he is fighting against oblivion through the star. This hidden disability explains why the coach can never truly connect with the champion. He listens instead to other voices – the CEO of MFC 
(chapter 69), the rumors among the directors 
(chapter 46), the media 
(chapter 52), the sponsors 
(chapter 41), the spectators or “authorities”
(chapter 36) — and reacts to them, even violently, as in chapter 52, when public criticism painted Jaekyung in a negative light. 
(chapter 52) The slap was less about Jaekyung’s behavior than about Namwook’s own fear of outside judgment. He was not listening to the man in front of him but to the noise around him. He feared losing control in the end, especially after the athlete’s words let transpire his true position at the gym: 
(chapter 52) His question is not mere anger. It is a confession of position — an inadvertent acknowledgment that he knows he is the true backbone of the gym. He is the one responsible, the one carrying the burden that Namwook refuses to admit. These words crack the illusion: the fighter is not subordinate, but owner. The gym lives because of him.
(chapter 52) He acted as a child, faked “tears” in order to use empathy to his advantage. 
(chapter 71), hence he tried to help in his own way. On the other hand, Park Namwook shows clearly no sign to be interested in the private life of his boss. He is preferring ignorance over “knowledge and connection”. 
(chapter 66) Despite the incident, the manager hasn’t changed yet. He clinched onto the past, thinking that everything will be like before, as soon as the athlete enters the ring. He images a return to normality with the next match. 
(chapter 66) For years, he had accepted his manager’s judgments out of habit, mistaking silence for consent. But here, for the first time, the repetition feels deliberate — not resignation, but reflection (“though”). The phrase becomes a question more than an agreement: is he truly right? He is admitting this out of habit. 
(chapter 69) His silence has shifted from obedience to suffocation. The weight of Namwook’s deaf authority is no longer bearable. And yet, even here, his confession is muted, confined to the private space of his car. He is not yet ready to speak the words aloud — not until someone appears who will listen. 
(chapter 48) This scene was observed by Kwak Junbeom, so the latter could have reported it to the coach. If it truly happened, this would expose the coach’s deafness and cowardice. He chose passivity instead of confronting the doctor or the champion. That way, he avoided responsibility. And this brings me to my final conclusion concerning the deaf manager. His main way to contact the celebrity is the cellphone: 
(chapter 66) It is both his mask and his crutch — a tool for barking orders, never for dialogue. The moment the line goes dead, his authority collapses, for he has no other means of contact. His power depends on Jaekyung’s reception, not his own strength. In truth, the manager’s disability is exposed here: deaf to Jaekyung’s voice, he has trained himself to hear only the ring of a phone. A fragile authority built on silence, ready to crumble the instant Jaekyung decides to switch it off.
(chapter 76) must be read not as pride, but as a desperate shield against annihilation. In other words, in episode 76, the athlete is too harsh on himself, though I am not saying that he is innocent either. He only thought of himself because he had taught to behave that way. He was just mirroring the adults surrounding him who hid their weaknesses and wrongdoings behind “lies, social norms and hierarchy”. 
(chapter 57) With his grandmother and with every authority he encountered — doctors, employers, even predators — he believed unquestioningly that others were right and he was wrong. Hence he trusted others blindly. He was trained to accept decisions made for him or against him. 
(chapter 70) Thus he accepts criticism with defending his own interest. He was not taught how to fight back or resist or even argue. 
(chapter 1) He never tried to seek justice. His “you’re right” was not recognition but submission, the language of someone who could not afford to resist. In season one, this made their relationship combustible: Jaekyung spoke only in victory and as such submission, while Dan accepted every loss as natural. He also adopted this mind-set. On the other hand, because their initial interaction was based on a contract, 
(chapter 6), both were forced to discuss with each other about the “content of the agreement”. That’s where the champion was trained to communciate with the physical therapist. Thanks to the champion, because of this victory/loss mentality, the doctor learned gradually to argue and “reply” with his “boss. However, due to his childhood, he couldn’t totally drop his old principles like for example “saying no”. 
(chapter 34) To conclude, before their fateful meeting, neither man had learned how to argue as equals. But in the kitchen in front of the stove, this changed: both are right and wrong! 
(chapter 76) He speaks like someone expecting rejection. Hence he keeps his distance. Yet the very fact that he says it at all signals change. Where once he would have doubled down — by barking an order, by firing Dan, by retreating into silence — he now admits defeat. The vocabulary of winning and losing, inherited from his father and reinforced by every adult in his life, collapses in the presence of Dan’s quiet honesty.
(chapter 76) — an acknowledgment that he can no longer keep his walls intact. He is now willing to rely on doc Dan exclusively.
(chapter 76). His confession reveals not strength but guilt. Kim Dan’s suffering was the price of his victories, and he knows it. “On the other hand, his mea culpa should be relativized, for both were the targets of a plot!
(chapter 76) These words expose both responsibility and shame: he had prioritized survival over connection, career over compassion. What boils under his skin is not pride but remorse.
(chapter 76) The star’s thoughts in the kitchen are actually mirroring the ones in the bathroom: 
(chapter 68) In the bathtub, he still saw himself as the one in control, with the upper hand… but this is no longer the case in the kitchen. Through the physical therapist, the wolf is learning that even being in a vulnerable state doesn’t mean that this person is powerless. It is just that his “strength” lies elsewhere. In other words, someone struggling can also give comfort to another person in pain. 
(chapter 72) a place of solitary consumption rather than shared meals, the bed was the place where the little boy would drink his milk. 
(chapter 72) It is interesting that actually, Doc Dan wanted to bring the porridge to Joo Jaekyung to his bed during that full moon night, thus the latter made the following request: 
(chapter 76) But the wolf didn’t understand the hamster’s intention and followed his “hyung” to the kitchen. That’s how a misunderstanding was born which is also reflected in this interaction:
(chapter 76) However, doc Dan agreed to this, he remained calm. 
(chapter 41) The latter actually represented a hindrance between them, it marked their relationship: boss and “employee” (servant). Moreover, since the table in the champion’s childhood was linked to one person (the father), it is clear that the champion has never shared a table with someone. And this aspect brings me to my other observation. 
(chapter 22) Whether in meetings, weigh-ins, or dinners with the CEO 
(chapter 46) It was a place where others dictated terms, while Jaekyung’s silence was mistaken for consent. And now, you comprehend why the two main leads could get closer in front of the stove in the kitchen. This place stands for warmth, care and family. 
(chapter 13) a meal after his collapse. He refused to bring a meal to the bed, he asked him to join in the dining room and sit at the table. And what did they do there? The champion talked about his career, his fight etc… 
(chapter 13) the champion has long associated the table to business and not “care”. That’s why it is important for him to remember the significance of the bed in his childhood. It was the place where he could feel comfortable and safe, where he would eat! 
51, 52, and 73 [I am excluding the match]—his role is far from minor. He is, in fact, one of the main invisible architects of the champion’s trauma and jinx, the one who once stood across from him on a night that would shape the course of both their lives. Long before he was known as the Shotgun, Baek Junmin might have pulled the trigger on something else entirely: the last remnant of Jaekyung’s innocence.
(chapter 73) Their violent encounter may have led to the vanishing of the young boy’s smile, replacing it with the hardened scowl of the Emperor, the tyrant in the ring. 
(chapter 1) If Hwang Byungchul gave Jaekyung the tools to fight, Baek Junmin gave him the reason to fight like a bloodthirsty tyrant. He did not simply scar the soul — he engraved rage into the champion’s core. The tragedy is that Joo Jaekyung never even learned his name. Thus he didn’t react to his name, only to his face and his smile. 
(chapter 47) And yet, Baek Junmin reappears, not as a stranger, but as the remnant of a past that refuses to stay buried. Additionally, he appears only through the narration of others (fighter) 
(chapter 47) or in flashes 
(chapter 73) — a gesture here, a line there 
(chapter 73) — before vanishing again. To understand him, we have to read between the panels, compare the boy we meet in episode 73 
(chapter 73) to the man who resurfaces much later. 
(chapter 47) This is how we catch glimpses of him — by holding the present up against the past, by noticing what has changed and what has stayed the same.
(chapter 73) Such an injury is not congenital, nor cosmetic. It is the ear’s irreversible memory of repeated trauma, often earned through unregulated or unsupervised fighting.
(chapter 49) Jaekyung’s ears mark him as a champion who faced real opponents in real matches, many of them brutal. His injuries are the price of transparency, visibility, and legitimacy. They are scars earned in the light, while Baek Junmin is supposed to be a novice. 
(chapter 47)
(chapter 47) His damage was earned in the shadows and in staged fights manipulated by higher powers. 
(chapter 47)
(chapter 49) His cheeks have sunk, his jaw stands out more sharply, and his features seem carved by something deeper than age. This is not the look of someone forced to cut weight for competition, 
(chapter 37), for the new rising star is already much smaller and thinner than the protagonist. 
(chapter 49) It’s more likely the result of long-term stress, emotional corrosion, or drug use.
(chapter 73) This line is telling. It reveals not only the normalization of drug use among these teenagers, but also how intimately it’s tied to fighting. Juho isn’t offering an escape—he’s offering a tool. For him, drugs aren’t about rebellion or recreation; they are a performance enhancer. They’re marketed as part of the fighter’s toolkit.
(chapter 44) His skin is clearer, his features softer, and his face shows fewer signs of internal collapse. This is the effect of healthy food, structured discipline, clean training, and perhaps even emotional restraint. While Junmin’s face has been thinned by chaos, Jaekyung’s has been preserved by control. Under this light, it becomes comprehensible why the athlete fell in love with doc Dan at first sight. Despite being older, 
(chapter 7) the “hamster” still carries a baby face: a visual marker of youth, innocence, and gentleness. He embodies everything the Shotgun does not: vulnerability without corruption, softness without vice. If Baek Junmin stands for a corrupted adulthood — weapons (The Shotgun), shadows, and counterfeit gold — then Kim Dan, by contrast, becomes the sanctuary of all that was lost: the child, the smile, the safe bed.
(chapter 49) reveals that anonymity was never his desire. It was his sentence.
(chapter 18) criminals don’t want attention. They avoid the law. They train their subordinates to vanish, to move through shadows, to speak only when spoken to. Baek Junmin wasn’t just playing a role —he was surviving a system that required him to erase himself. His hoodie was not simply clothing; it was a muzzle, a shadow he had to wear. That’s why the protagonist has not made a connection between his nemesis Baek Junmin and a Korean gang yet.
(chapter 69) How is this possible, when it is clear that the antagonist is already a thug? It is because Joo Jaekyung has no idea about his true identity. He only knows him as a cheater and liar!! 
(chapter 73) he blends in by choice. Black is not a neutral here; it is a decision to recede, to be part of the backdrop. The fabric pools around his hands, hiding the skin, while the hood hangs like an unspoken “no comment.” Even when he speaks, it is without volume or force. 
(chapter 73) And notice that the legend is trapped to a province, indicating that he could never make it out of there like the champion! Therefore it already implies that the future “Shotgun”‘s association with the hyung is not based on loyalty or mutual respect—it is circumstantial, even transactional. It is about money and usefulness. And now, you comprehend why Baek Junmin’s position in this gang is quite precarious.
(chapter 73) That’s the same number of persons in the dark alley, when you exclude Joo Jaekyung and Baek Junmin 
(chapter 52) Note that Director Choi Gilseok doesn’t express concern for Baek Junmin, his attention is on the Emperor! 
(chapter 47),he doesn’t take pride in killing someone.
(chapter 49) and there was no direct interaction between them in the street, I come to the conclusion that their past must have crossed a second time between these two meetings. If we take the hallway encounter as their third meeting 
(chapter 49), there must have been at least a second — brief, sharp, and wounding enough to carve itself into Baek Junmin’s memory while leaving no conscious trace in Joo Jaekyung’s. The difference is telling: what the champion repressed, the Shotgun carried it like a scar. It means Baek Junmin knows more about him than the reverse, and every glare, every barb he throws later is sharpened by a history Joo Jaekyung couldn’t anticipate they share
(chapter 73) lit only in patches, with more shadow than clarity. In this kind of setting, the black hoodie becomes something more than clothing — it is camouflage. He is not merely wearing the dark; he is using it, letting the folds of fabric and the absence of light blur his edges. It is as if he intends to merge with the scenery, to be just another shadow leaning against the wall. This double concealment — in time and in space — ensures that, for now, he remains invisible to the one person whose attention he will one day crave. He began in the shadows not just by circumstance but by mandate. Yet as the boy in the hoodie fades into memory, a new figure will eventually emerge from those shadows—not to hide, but to strike. And he will no longer wear a hood. He will wear scars.
(chapter 72) and in this context, “cutthroat” is more than an idiom. It hints at the lurking threat of blades, at encounters in alleys and side streets where victory is stolen through speed and treachery. Joo Jaekyung has walked those streets without incident 
(chapter 72) 
(chapter 73) in the present timeline, but an assault there can happen any time.
(chapter 17) And what did the loan shark tell him before provoking him? 
(chapter 17) Based on the champion’s facial expression after hearing Heo Manwook’s questions, it becomes clear that Joo Jaekyung experienced in the past a scene where he faced a knife and his head was smashed with a bottle of soju. The criminals are recognizable due to their tattoos and their weapons, the knife! And the logic of the knife in this world is telling: as Heo Manwook showed
(chapter 17), it appears when a fight is already lost. It is not a weapon of open combat, but of pride and desperation — a way to cheat fate when skill is not enough. Moreover, he was particularly vicious here. He attacked the champion from behind, a treacherous move. As you can see, the knife is strongly intertwined with the underworld, deception and cowardice.
(chapter 73) 
(chapter 17), a head injury 
(chapter 73), insults and provocations 
(chapter 73),
(chapter 17) and finally an allusion to the “maker”, god versus father. 
(chapter 73) Over time, the champion chose protective symbols— clouds and a dragon-like mask—tattoos designed not to intimidate but to shield. 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 17) They represent protection, not aggression. Where Baek Junmin’s tattoos speak of death and destruction, Jaekyung’s express escape, survival and resilience. Even in their body art, the two boys tell opposing stories: one driven by resentment and darkness, the other by endurance and self-preservation. 
(chapter 69) Nevertheless, they are here buying time. How so? If the champion were to fight again and even lose, they could bury the investigations. They were also biding time in order to stop investigations and the involvement of the media. 
(chapter 73) No… he is copying others and in particular Joo Jaekyung whom he resents. Thus their attitude in the ring is similar (ruthless), yet both act that way for different reasons: pain and seriousness 
(chapter 15) versus fun and schadenfreude 
(chapter 47). His new persona feels exaggerated, theatrical, hollow. He wanted to become unforgettable, but ended up being another disposable fighter in a system that only remembers champions. Now, his face is ruined: he lost teeth and has a broken nose. 
(chapter 57) Hence the nurse felt sympathy for him. At the health center, he received his long due punishment. Baek Junmin learned through the hard way what it means fighting without rules. He got deceived himself, thinking that his “hyung” would have his back.
(chapter 54) These words imply that the outcome was predicted… That’s the reason why Joo Jaekyung needs to remember the past. There lies the truth: they are “rigging the games because of bets! 
(chapter 54) and Joo Jaekyung’s father, Joo Jaewoong. 
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 72) Their words or flat reflect their mindset and role. They are waste, once used, they can be discarded. For me, it becomes obvious that the ghost from the champion’s nightmare is a combination of Joo Jaewoong and The Shotgun. Besides, observe how the father’s corpse 
(chapter 54), the father with his fading trophy, Baek Junmin with his own unspoken history in the underground ring and the ghost’s words linked to the champion’s hands. Together, they symbolize the toxic underbelly of combat sports, the place where dreams are sold and consumed.
(chapter 73) He had a past worth remembering—something he even clung to in his ruined apartment, preserving his medal and document like a relic. Baek Junmin, by contrast, never belonged to the gym. He wasn’t trained. He never received formal recognition. He fought in shadows, kept to the margins, and remained a “legend” only in the backrooms of Gangwon’s illegal rings because he trusted his “hyung”.
(chapter 49). he desired to have a real title and admiration. 
(chapter 51) all along—a spectacle, not a coronation. Hence director Choi was overjoyed when he heard the verdict.
(chapter 52) That’s why he earned a lot of money. They used this fight to remove the Emperor from the stage quietly. It was time for him to give up on his throne. If they had let Baek Junmin win the fight, people would have questioned the referees. The Shotgun was there to prepare the coup d’Etat, hence the new champion is someone else. Joo Jaekyung wouldn’t remain so calm hearing this: 
(chapter 72) This explicates why Hwang Byungchul condemned the man and sided with the mother. But while Joo Jaewoong and Baek Junmin tried to escape through the sport, they both ended up in the criminal network. And neither made it out.
(chapter 2) —having sex the night before a match—was a necessary ritual to maintain his champion title. However, by Episode 62, his view of the jinx had subtly shifted. 
(chapter 62) He now includes his entire routine with Kim Dan—not just sex, but also his physical therapy and treatment—as part of this so-called jinx. This shift is crucial because it implies an unconscious recognition of Kim Dan’s significance in his life. What once was purely about his career and success has now expanded to include a specific person and their role in his well-being.
(chapter 46), the stretching and massage at the gym? The problem is that the champion never complimented the “hamster” for his good work directly. So it was, as if his dedication was nonexistent. Without the champion’s genuine gratitude and appreciation expressed so openly, the physical therapist couldn’t perceive the true message behind the champion’s. Joo Jaekyung’s statement was actually an acknowledgment—a sign that the fighter values their routine, not just for performance but as an integral part of his life. So when the star mentioned his jinx 
(chapter 62), the doctor’s memory got triggered. Because of his past experiences, he has long associated the jinx exclusively with sex. This contrast in understanding highlights both Jaekyung’s lack of self-awareness and Kim Dan’s tendency to filter reality through his own expectations and trauma. However, the deeper significance lies in Jaekyung’s evolving perception of dependency. His jinx is no longer just a superstition tied to his performance in bed. It now subtly acknowledges that his success has been intertwined with Kim Dan’s intervention. 
(chapter 61) By entrusting his care to Kim Dan, he was insinuating that the main lead was trustworthy and competent, yet his inability to verbally express appreciation keeps the doctor unaware of his true feelings. This struggle resurfaced in front of the hospice, where Jaekyung could only bring himself to admit that Kim Dan was not responsible for the incident with the switched spray. 
(chapter 62) His reluctance to openly acknowledge his gratitude suggests a deeper internal conflict—one that hints at a growing but unspoken emotional reliance on Kim Dan. 
(chapter 62) It was, as if he was warding off bad luck by repeating the last match. For him, past choices are justified by their results—he has built a successful career through sheer discipline and sees no reason to question his trajectory. His mentality reflects the belief that one’s past is a stable structure upon which the present and future rest. This perception explains his resistance to self-reflection and emotional vulnerability; admitting a mistake would mean disrupting the stability he relies upon.
(chapter 50) 
(chapter 61) This rigid perception prevents him from questioning his past choices or embracing change, reinforcing the illusion that repeating past patterns will restore stability. However, as his reliance on Kim Dan grows, the boundaries between his personal and professional life blur, challenging his belief that he can control his future by clinging to his past. 
(chapter 57) and Park Namwook 
(chapter 54), who claim that Jaekyung ‘lost’ the fight, when in reality, it was a tie. The very way people around him are framing the event warps his perception, creating a false narrative where his struggles seem to stem solely from this supposed ‘loss.’ His belief in a stable past provides him with a sense of security, but that illusion is fragile. In addition, if his struggles predated his championship loss 
(chapter 13) because they affected the doctor’s life? 
(chapter 41) In one case, he refused to listen to his friend’s advice, whereas he trusted the words from MFC, MFC doctors and his hyung. When the foundation he has relied upon begins to crack, Jaekyung’s entire mindset is shaken, forcing him to question whether his past truly holds the answers he seeks. We could say, the athlete needs to be betrayed by his own past in order to throw his old belief. The latter is strongly intertwined with the organization MFC and authorities in general. Questioning his past equals challenging the company MFC and his past “guardians”: the terrifying ghost and even his two hyungs. 
(chapter 61), he expresses the belief that reclaiming his championship title will rid him of his headaches, nightmares, and sleepless nights. However, the reality is different—he was already suffering from insomnia long before he lost his title. 
(chapter 29) The origins of his struggles existed before his recent failures, suggesting that his belief in a simple solution—reclaiming his title—is an illusion. This disconnect reveals how deeply his professional and personal life are entangled; his need for control in the ring has masked his deeper emotional vulnerabilities. He isn’t merely striving for victory—he is chasing the illusion of stability, believing that his success is the sole factor that determines his well-being. 
(chapter 54) But as his nightmares and frustration intensified, it becomes clear that his problem is not the loss of his title, but the erosion of the identity he has built upon it. This means that the longer he stays away from the gym, the more the fighter is learning about himself. He is more than just a MMA champion. To conclude, he is on his way to redefine himself, to discover his humanity.
(chapter 29), you will realize that alone in his penthouse, Joo Jaekyung was actually admitting the importance of sleep and rest. His earlier belief in relentless training as the key to success now clashes with his realization that exhaustion is affecting him. This shift signifies an unconscious admission that his well-being is not just tied to physical endurance but also to recovery and relaxation—something he previously dismissed. This realization subtly parallels his growing dependence on Kim Dan, reinforcing the theme of blurring lines between his professional and personal life. And what had occurred after this magical blue night in the penthouse? 
(chapter 30) The athlete woke up later than usual. In fact, he was rather late, for he was still wearing his pajamas, while the doctor had already taken his shower. But back then, observe how he opened the door! Like a clumsy beast, grump leopard! Why? In the past, I explained that he was seeking the champion’s closeness, but didn’t know how to approach his partner. I am now adding another aspect. He was actually annoyed, because he had not been following his daily routine!! Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the champion had such a “angry” facial expression, while deep down he was happy. The older version of this scene: 
(chapter 44) However, this means that in episode 30, he never acknowledged his dependency on the physical therapist for his rest loudly. On the other hand, it explains why the champion felt threatened, when the actor approached his “lavender-tinted pillow” or “sleeping pill”. 
(chapter 31) In fact, he used guilt to create a link between him and his roommate. That’s the reason why I am more than ever convinced that the champion will sleep better after this lavender-tinted night. 
(chapter 63) But contrary to the past, the athlete should come to recognize his lover’s great sleeping power officially. This made me laugh, imagining Kim Dan’s reaction, when the latter sees that his wish 
(chapter 62) won’t come true at all. 😉 He will stay longer and ask for Kim Dan’s presence during the night.
(chapter 62)
(chapter 56) and opportunities that could offer him security, convincing himself that he is protecting his independence when, in truth, he is reacting to past trauma rather than making an intentional choice.
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 46)
(chapter 19) She became terribly sick, while the other had to get surged and risked his career. There is no doubt that the halmoni is hiding her pain as well. Kim Dan’s declining physical and emotional state further reflects the consequences of living in avoidance. 
(chapter 61) He is endangering his life. Instead of taking action to improve his well-being, he isolates himself, refusing help even when it is necessary. His reluctance to accept care—be it medical, emotional, or relational—mirrors the very trap Delgado describes: mistaking survival for true agency.
(chapter 62) If he continues making decisions based on past fears, he will remain trapped in the same cycle, unable to experience true growth or emotional fulfillment.
(chapter 62) Here, he is actually facing his past which he has strongly connected to regret and remorse. Don’t forget that after this night, he is expecting Joo Jaekyung’s departure. 
(chapter 3), which has been the setting of power imbalances, physical dominance, and silence, the living room represents a shared space—a place where dialogue and openness can exist. But why is the bedroom linked to silence? It is because of the TV, the third invisible companion! 
(chapter 48) Hence during that night, none of the protagonists talked sincerely to each other. And now pay attention to the living room at the hostel: 
(chapter 54) He needed to get rid of this poor habit: watching TV or cellphone. He had to realize that the TV or cellphones were never real companions and never brought him peace of mind! This was the invisible “love” triangle. Back then, the athlete deceived himself by thinking that he was truly self-reliant, while in verity he was dependent on his cellphone and the TV. 
(chapter 37) And all this started because Kim Dan had taken the initiative. 
(chapter 7) But now, it is no longer fulfilling for him, because his relationship with them didn’t go beyond their work. 
(chapter 59) Striking is that here the doctor didn’t apologize to the elderly man, but only to the family. 
(chapter 59) 
(chapter 62) – which is quite understandable in my eyes. The ones who failed the couple were the two other hyungs from my perspective. The past affected the doctor so much that he views himself and his feelings as “trash” now, yet it is clear that neither Park Namwook nor the coach are suffering from guilt or remorse. The star’s follow-up statement, 
(chapter 62) further reinforces that Kim Dan has become an integral part of his preparation. Although Jaekyung does not yet frame this as emotional reliance, his words betray an unconscious attachment—one that Kim Dan himself does not recognize. Moreover, by including him in his jinx, the champion is only one step closer to include him in his “success”. Should the doctor be the target of malicious comments, the star will consider it as a personal assault or as his responsibility.
(chapter 56), but about something deeper. Here he felt the need to see his beloved “companion” again. 
(chapter 27) At the same time, this confession displays that his past was far from being perfect, the evidence of a distorted memory. After working so hard for the community, he came to receive a treatment from Kim Dan: 
(chapter 62) This means that he is now treasuring his own body. No wonder why he smiled. 
(chapter 62) That’s why I come to the following conclusion: The athlete must have felt happy in the living room, for he felt comfortable and safe.
(chapter 62) But why did he show his back? One might say that he desired to hide his “satisfaction” and his “reliance” on his fated partner. Or he didn’t feel the need to watch the doctor’s facial reaction, when he would confide his new intentions and the transformation of his jinx. He didn’t expect the physical therapist to mock him for his absurd belief contrary to episode 2: 
(chapter 2) He trusted the doctor. Yet, in my opinion, there exists a bigger reason behind this change. It is related to his manager: 
The doctor is treating the star 
(chapter 26) His dependence on Jaekyung’s achievements makes him resistant to any shift in the fighter’s trajectory 
(chapter 40), as it threatens his own stability. Rather than acknowledging change, he reacts negatively to it and shifts blame onto Jaekyung, avoiding responsibility for his own shortcomings.
(chapter 43), but when confronted with a serious incident, he failed to take responsibility or make a decisive choice 
(chapter 50), allowing others to step in instead. Later, rather than addressing his inaction, 
(chapter 53), as if the past never happened. By doing so, he reinforces Jaekyung’s belief in his so-called ‘jinx,’ manipulating the fighter’s perception of events and contributing to a distorted memory of reality. Meanwhile, the manager must face the reality that change is inevitable and that Jaekyung’s evolution does not mean his own irrelevance. However, his position must change.
(chapter 59)
(chapter 5) He felt so empowered that he won very quickly. 
(chapter 5) But this good vibe was attributed to the sex with Kim Dan and unfortunately linked to his match. The reality was that he had slept better and longer. So by recreating the past, Kim Dan places the athlete in front of a choice. What matters in his life? His title or his peace of mind? He is correcting the champion’s distorted memory. Kim Dan is the reason why he can rest properly and not the title. Don’t forget that he was suggesting to go separate ways during the massage. But if he sleeps better before gaining his title, he won’t feel the urge to return quickly to the ring. In the living room, he was still acting as the celebrity, but in the bed chamber he is now gradually pushed to leave his title out of the bedroom. Now, in the bedroom he becomes a man and can almost make a mistake as a lover. 
(chapter 59) However, he needs to realize that his physical and mental recovery can only happen, if he truly wishes it. From my perspective, the doctor has to sense that he is not on his own, he has someone by his side who supports him emotionally and mentally.
(Chapter 61) However, this moment is not isolated—it reflects patterns in his personality that have appeared throughout the series. 
(Chapter 11) 
(chapter 18) This essay delves into the significance of Kim Dan’s physical and emotional bruises, examining how they symbolize his suffering, internal conflict and transformation. I will examine Kim Dan’s conflicted emotions surrounding gratitude and debt, contrasting his interactions with Joo Jaekyung and his grandmother, Shin Okja. Additionally, I will explore how Kim Dan’s conditioned identity as a caregiver drives his choices, even in his current living situation with the landlord, where he unconsciously replicates past dynamics. Ultimately, I will elaborate how Kim Dan’s newfound awareness could reshape his identity and relationships moving forward.
(chapter 11), Kim Dan is truly responsible for the contusion. He caused the injury by removing the needle from the drip. 
(chapter 60) By taking this action, he absolved Joo Jaekyung of any responsibility for the injury, but this is merely a superficial conclusion. 
(Chapter 61) On the hand the circumstances surrounding the bruise, where Kim Dan removed the needle on his own, provide insight into his psyche. The deeper cause of the bruise lies in Kim Dan’s declining health, which is intrinsically connected to his malnutrition and the neglect he faces from those around him. It is important to recall that Joo Jaekyung was explicitly informed that Kim Dan needed rest 
(chapter 60). Yet, with his insistence, 
(chapter 61), he ultimately had no choice but to comply, as his order came from the hospice director. 
(Chapter 61) And why did the director override Kim Dan’s need for rest? Money and free PR. Joo Jaekyung’s influence secured the director’s approval, disregarding the doctor’s well-being in favor of business interests. This conversation at the director’s office makes one thing clear: words hold no power against profit. An d that realization led me to another connection—every one of Kim Dan’s bruises is linked to exploitation, whether by authority, obligation, or financial influence. 
(chapter 56) Kim Dan has only visited the hospital once, and this was solely due to Joo Jaekyung’s intervention. The latter needed medical attention himself 
(chapter 18) and took Kim Dan along, ensuring he was seen as an emergency patient. However, this visit was brief and lacked any comprehensive medical examination—no blood samples were taken, and his underlying health concerns remained undiagnosed. This omission further underscores the neglect Kim Dan has suffered, as even in a medical setting, his long-term health issues were overlooked. 
(chapter 21) He had never been healthy and strong. Moreover, when he joined them, at no moment the senior asked if he had gone to the doctor, though he had been sick before. 
(chapter 21) But back then, the champion didn’t pay too much attention to it. In my opinion, her response will likely reflect her established pattern of emotional detachment and deflection of responsibility. Rather than admitting her lack of concern for his well-being, she may shift blame onto the staff or Kim Dan himself 
(chapter 57). In the last case, she will downplay the severity of his condition, insisting that he has always been stubborn and independent. She could even mention her conversation, when she tried to convince Kim Dan to return to Seoul, but the latter refused to listen to her.
(chapter 5), or his general reluctance to ask for help. He rejected the athlete’s help and concern. 
(chapter 57). She blamed the main lead, because she imagined that Shin Okja would worry about him. However, it becomes clear that the halmoni is not worried about her grandson at all. She is acting like a fan in front of the athlete. 
(chapter 61) He only remained at the door. However, observe that there was a cut between this image 
(chapter 61) and the conversation between the main couple in front of the hospice. 
(chapter 61) So he could have made his presence known to his relative before asking Joo Jaekyung to follow him because of his treatment. To conclude, I believe that she had the time and occasion to see her grandchild and his bruise.
(chapter 13) He is the only doctor who has ever examined the protagonist so closely and even paid attention to his fingernails! 
(chapter 13) At the same time, the chingu from the club was the first one pointing out that his wounds were never treated!! Furthermore, I realized that the doctor’s lies from episode 11 
(chapter 13) The latter was the cause for the severe exhaustion. However, like mentioned above, the doctor is not blameless either, because he never questioned why his wounds on the hand were bleeding again. 
(chapter 43) He thought, it was related to the massage, yet the reality was that this incident showed that he had coagulation issues. To conclude, all the bruises could have always been noticed by people due to their locations (eyes, hands, arm)! 
(chapter 61) and his relationship with Joo Jaekyung. 
(chapter 61) That’s how I recognized why these women’s warm welcome and curiosity about Kim Dan were rather superficial. 
(chapter 56) His arrival stands for novelty and a breath of fresh air at the institution. However, with this change, the female staff is forgetting their original duty: they need to pay attention to their colleagues. They are behaving like the grandmother
(chapter 61): fangirling over the handsome guys visiting their little town. That’s why Mingwa drew flowers in the last two images. No wonder why no one around Kim Dan is observing the bruise and his deteriorating condition. Moreover, since the physical therapist has a relative at the hospice, the staff is envisioning that Shin Okja is doing “her work”, she is paying attention to Kim Dan’s mental and physical conditions. On the other hand, there is no doubt that the grandmother has already delegated her own responsibility onto others, Kim Dan and the hospice. It is a medical institution, therefore they should pay attention to his working conditions. In other words, since no one feels responsible for the protagonist’s health, no one is worried about Kim Dan at all. At the end of episode 61, he is even so pale and breathless 
(chapter 61) that I am anticipating a terrible incident leading to a rude awakening for everyone.
(chapter 57) By declaring that Kim Dan is now responsible for his own life, she emotionally detaches herself, absolving herself of any accountability for his deteriorating condition. However, she is forgetting 
(chapter 56) that she is still relying on him, as he is the one paying her hospice bills. Besides, she still doesn’t know that the loan is no longer existent. It was, as if he had to clean up her mess before her death. At no moment, she asks about the loan or the doctor’s future. She is not thinking about his future at all.
(chapter 57) — reinforces her conviction that she has fulfilled her role. In her mind, his rejection of her advice places the burden of care entirely on him, allowing her to dismiss any further involvement. This emotional withdrawal directly connects to the symbolism of the bruise: 
(chapter 61) His grandmother’s disregard for his well-being amplifies the injustice of this situation; she allowed him to shoulder the debt despite knowing it was never truly his to bear. The bruise becomes a recurring motif, a visual representation of how others have imposed their responsibilities on Kim Dan, leaving him physically and emotionally scarred. 
(chapter 60). The juxtaposition of the vibrant environment with Kim Dan’s deteriorating health underscores the neglect he faces. The hospice is meant to be a sanctuary, yet it becomes a space where Kim Dan is further burdened by the champion and his grandmother’s expectations 
(chapter 55) This line “I finally feel like I can breathe again”, written by Kim Dan, reveals a subconscious acknowledgment that his relationship with the champion represents a breath of fresh air, a chance to escape the suffocating expectations and burdens he has carried for so long. The bruise, a physical manifestation of his struggle, signals the breaking point of his role as a selfless caregiver. It challenges the illusion of invulnerability that Kim Dan has maintained and forces those around him to confront his vulnerability.
(chapter 60) The beach, with its open and untamed expanse, symbolizes freedom and a return to the self. It foreshadows that Kim Dan’s true journey toward healing will require him to step outside the roles and confines imposed upon him, finding solace not in what is expected but in what feels authentic and liberating.
(chapter 5), yet she burdened Kim Dan with it, using his sense of duty and gratitude against him. Her statement in episode 57 
(chapter 18) —or, more accurately, the lack thereof. The champion’s actions were motivated by a desire to help 
(chapter 18), hence the star was waiting for a smile from Kim Dan. Yet the latter perceived it as meddling. His immediate response 
(chapter 53), leaving a note when he moved out that promises to settle the debt. However, by Episode 61, Kim Dan is no longer mentioning the debt, signaling a shift in his priorities and a possible breaking point in his adherence to his grandmother’s expectations. 
(chapter 60) He had never been given the opportunity to develop dreams or ambitions of his own, as his life was entirely defined by his grandmother’s circumstances. This lack of agency further explains his rejection of Joo Jaekyung’s generosity in Episode 18 and his later promise to reimburse the loan. Clinging to this promise was Kim Dan’s way of creating purpose and meaning in a life that had otherwise been dictated by others. It highlights how deeply entrenched his self-sacrificing tendencies are, as even his attempts to assert independence are rooted in his conditioned need to serve others. That’s why I come to the following prediction. Kim Dan needs to get confronted with illness and death (he could lose his life) so that his will for life comes to the surface. Right now, he imagines that since he is young, he will outlive his relative, but the death of the puppy was a warning to him that youth is no guarantee for a long life. 
(chapter 59) Death can take away anyone and at any moment. In my eyes, if Joo Jaekyung uses his own body to save the doctor again (like for example blood transfusion and CPR), this time Kim Dan would feel truly grateful towards the champion. So far, the doctor has not recognized the star as his savior yet. By removing the needle, he denied the protagonist’s intervention on the beach: 
(chapter 60) Hence his arm got bruised. The contusion was a reminder that something had happened during that night, but Kim Dan chose to ignore the incident. He never questioned why he was on the beach, he acted, as if Joo JAekyung had lied. 
(chapter 60) 
(chapter 18) Deep down, Kim Dan knows that the debt was never truly his responsibility, making it difficult for him to view the champion’s actions as a genuine act of kindness. This inner conflict is compounded by his suicidal disposition, which renders the concept of repaying the debt meaningless. 
(chapter 59) He worked so hard, was even beaten, but he could never voice his torment. 
(chapter 60) 
(chapter 11) and even uses his own words against him: 
(chapter 22) The loan was the result of his grandmother’s decision. He never helped him, rather his grandmother. 
(chapter 11) However, he never explained his circumstances to the generous athlete. By keeping him in the dark, he reinforced his negative disposition about the doctor. And chapter 61 exposes this reality. His suffering was the result of his own decision. 
(chapter 19) 
(chapter 53) His decision to allow Joo Jaekyung into his bedroom in episode 61 demonstrates that he consented to the relationship, even if begrudgingly. 
(chapter 61) However, his reaction afterward (regret) suggests that he struggles to take ownership of his choices. The fact that he recalled this sex scene in the restroom divulges a certain resent towards the athlete. The latter abandoned him right after their interaction. Hence I come to the following deduction. In reality, he is projecting his frustrations onto Joo Jaekyung, masking his true feelings about his grandmother, who is the root cause of his conditioned self-sacrifice. And this observation brings to my next remark. People wondered when this intercourse took place. One might think that this took place rather early in the story because of the way Joo Jaekyung acted. He didn’t remove his pants 
(chapter 61) and acted like in episode 6. 
(chapter 6) or 8 
(chapter 8) where he would abandon the protagonist right after the climax and not care about his partner’s conditions and feelings: 
(chapter 61) I might be wrong, but for me, it took place much later in the story, around the time the athlete was about to face Alfredo. Why? First notice that they had sex in the doctor’s bedroom. This means that Kim Dan was already living in the penthouse. The words from the champion implied that he would return to his own bedroom, where the doctor’s thoughts implied that he was standing close to his bed. However, so far, they only had sex in the champion’s bedroom, when it was the evening before the match: 
(chapter 13) Since the doctor mentioned that a match was right around the corner 
(chapter 61) It leaves us four possibilities. Randy Booker, Dominic Hill, Alfredo 
(chapter 47) and Baek Junmin. However, for the intercourse took place in the doctor’s bedroom (he wished to be carried to his own bed) 
(chapter 36), for they had sex every day. However, in episode 53, we discover their night before the match against the Shotgun
(chapter 53) So this scene can only have taken place in chapter 47, when the match with Angelo got canceled and Kim Dan had been confronted with the terrible news about his terminally ill grandmother. 
(chapter 47) In the previous part of this essay, my avid readers could see the strong parallels between 61 and 47. But there exists another reason why I am inclining to think that the sex scene took place later in the story. It is because during that “magical night” (44), Kim Dan learned the notion of “consent”. 
(chapter 46) He should mistrust the members from the gym and keep his distance from people. So during that time, Joo Jaekyung did follow his hyung’s advice 
(chapter 47), yet I can’t imagine that this man could become abstinent like in episode 19. Hence at some point, he must have felt the urge to possess Kim Dan, a mixture of fear and dominance. He imagined that way that he could impose his will onto the doctor and control his “loyalty”. With this submission, he would force the doctor to remain by his side. But naturally, this sex as “power play” could increase the gap between the main leads.
(chapter 53) doc Dan was copying the champion’s behavior from episode 61. Right after the sex, he would leave the bed and return to his bedroom. How did Joo Jaekyung recall this night? 
(chapter 53) He saw his attitude as a sign of disloyalty and “abandonment”. And that’s how Kim Dan is feeling in the restroom: 
(chapter 61) The darkness around the eyes is a metaphor for his resent and anger. And the moment you contrast the two memories (53 and 61), you can detect the hypocrisy of the two main leads. They only recall scenes where they were hurt and felt betrayed. However, in reality, they were both victims and perpetrators, because none of them chose to open up and talk to each other. Why? It is because both chose to listen to their “guardian” and their “favor”. Like mentioned before, in a quarrel, no one is right and wrong. The purpose of an argument is to listen to the counterpart and view incidents from their perspective. Finally, the physical therapist’s recollection serves as an important evidence that he had never been powerless and helpless. He could have refused all the time because their deal was never official.He could have used the contract as a shield. But the best evidence of Kim Dan’s power is this rejection: 
(chapter 61) I had already pointed out the increasing resistance and resilience from Kim Dan in episode 60: 
(chapter 61) My prediction came true. In the past, he could have denied the existence of the deal, Joo Jaekyung was free to seek another physical therapist. He never realized that he had some leverage. Yet he still followed the athlete’s requests. He saw himself bound by obligations. However, this was just an illusion. Hence in episode 61, we see him legitimating his consent that there was an imminent fight. 
(chapter 40) He is paid to receive bruises, to push his body past its limits 
(chapter 50), to endure pain while the public watches and profits are made. His suffering is entertainment, a spectacle that fuels the business of MMA. Though he is a champion, he is still a commodity, expected to perform regardless of his condition. 
(chapter 61) He understands, better than anyone, what it means to be physically used for the sake of others, yet he remains blind to the fact that he has placed Kim Dan in the same position. While one has no file about his health condition, the other has many files, but they are not studied, because this would push the manager to question his decision and even ruin the business: 
(chapter 17) I doubt that Park Namwook studied them, and notice that the recently hired PT didn’t ask for the champion’s files first: 
(chapter 54) Thus I deduce that the champion’s files are in reality a subterfuge. They give the impression that the doctors and Park Namwook truly care for his well-being, but it is not correct. They are only interested in his body because of wealth and reputation. But let’s return our attention to episode 61 and the champion’s attitude towards Kim Dan.
(chapter 57) is another manifestation of his conditioned role as a caregiver. By living with an older man, he creates the illusion of a familial bond, mirroring the dynamic he shared with his grandmother. This decision highlights his struggle to break free from the identity imposed on him—one defined by servitude and selflessness. He assumes that he should take care of the landlord, offering to cook and expressing guilt for not fulfilling this perceived duty. Yet, the landlord subtly challenges this narrative. By inviting Kim Dan to eat breakfast 
(chapter 57) and dismissing his apologies, the landlord treats him as an equal rather than a caretaker. This dynamic forces Kim Dan to confront his false perception of himself.
(chapter 57) Despite this, Kim Dan rejects the advice, demonstrating his resistance to being cared for. This moment underscores his internal conflict—he craves independence yet clings to the role of the selfless provider. The landlord’s actions expose the fallacy of Kim Dan’s identity, revealing that his caregiving is not always necessary or effective.
(chapter 61) is indicating the increasing resent and anger towards the star. Joo Jaekyung is no longer seen as a celebrity and idol, but as a inconsiderate man. This transformation is subtle but meaningful, as it reflects his burgeoning awareness of his own worth and the unjust treatment he has endured. For the first time, Kim Dan acknowledges himself as pitiful 
(chapter 61), no longer bound by the roles others have imposed on him but shaped by his own choices and growing self-respect.
(chapter 13) and the fragility of Kim Dan’s existence. For Kim Dan, it challenges his self-perception as an indestructible caregiver. This realization could lead him to an inevitable conclusion: his own needs and well-being are just as important as those of others.
(chapter 46) On the other hand, chapter 47 exposes that the doctor didn’t lose his interest and attention towards his boss. 
(chapter 31) It is because when the psychologist met the patient with her boyfriend for the first time, he paid attention to his micro-expressions, and more particularly to his mouth. He saw his smirk. Here, I feel the need to give an explanation how these micro-expressions were discovered. 
(chapter 30) As my avid readers can detect, the expression from the boyfriend’s mouth displeased the white-haired psychologist. He could recognize his emotion, though such facial expressions are very short-lived
.(chapter 30) So what was the “jerk” feeling, when he was conversing with Sihyun? Cynicism. 
(chapter 31) And the reason why he stated that as soon as cynicism or scorn was present in a relationship, the couple would end up breaking up is because of John Gottham’s observations and conclusions. 
(chapter 45) We could sense it in different scenes, though I would say that his cynicism was slowly vanishing: 
(chapter 3)
(chapter 40) This is the so-called toxic negativity. Therefore it was to expect that the champion would reject the doctor’s present. He could only doubt the sincerity behind his gesture. How so? Remember how the team desired to celebrate his birthday: a surprise party. They bought a cake… 
(chapter 43) but what happened afterwards? Yosep spoke in the name of the gym’s owner: the latter would pay for the dinner (beef restaurant) 
(chapter 43) So technically, they offered a cheap cake and got in exchange a super expensive dinner. One might say that this was just a joke. But cynical people are taking things very seriously. This is what the champion learned from this experience, the cake in exchange for a super expensive meal … and now imagine that the next morning, he received an „expensive“ present from Kim Dan which was similar to the gifts from fans (exchange of favors). It is normal that he doubted the genuineness from his doctor, not only because of his past experiences, but also because of the parties before. But there exists another reason why he had to refuse the gift: Cynicism… the end of relationship. Thus dating for the athlete was impossible. 
(chapter 45) He is not ready yet. But was it Cynicism exactly and how does it represent a hindrance for a healthy relationship?
(chapter 7) This approach also gives us an explanation how Joo Jaekyung came to develop such an exhibitionistic sexual behavior: sex in the shower room
(chapter 8), in the office, in the car, in front of a mirror, in front of Heesung in the living room… Don’t forget that Diogenes would even masturbate in public. 
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 46) Consequently, he never tried to get close to his members either. In fact, he is expecting from the staff to follow his lead. Potato could only get rejected with such a request. 
(chapter 23) The latter had to act like a true disciple and follow the champion’s recommendation. 
(chapter 23) The gym is like his sacred temple. Yet, the gym is just a simulacre of “nature”, as it is in the middle of Seoul. Therefore I realized why after their argument, Joo Jaekyung avoided the penthouse and Kim Dan in the end. 
(chapter 47) It is because deep down, the champion sensed that his flat had become a home. He wanted to ensure that the penthouse was still a workplace or a hotel room. Thus he refused to eat the breakfasts prepared from his PT. In his eyes, these meals must have appeared as a violation of his self-imposed discipline. It was more than self-sufficiency. Under this new light, Jinx-philes can grasp why he rejects presents and prefers donating money.
(chapter 41) He is looking for freedom and self-sufficiency, detached from any material need. This explains why the golden keychain from Kim Dan could only offend him. 
(chapter 45) It symbolized everything he hates: a reminder of wealth, superficiality, attachment, secrecy and silence. It also exposed the huge difference in their mind-set. Kim Dan is not his disciple! He imagined that he had found a kindred spirit, especially after that night: 
(chapter 10) He is not resigning on designer clothes. 
(chapter 42) His dress room is the evidence of his hypocrisy. He might have encouraged Kim Dan to have sex in “public places”, yet he is still hiding his sexual orientation. Furthermore, his jinx is the evidence of his dishonesty. 
(chapter 45) He might advocate autonomy and self-sufficiency, the reality is that he likes luxury. Hence he is unable to live in harmony with nature. This shows that the fighter is in denial and is living in an illusion. Thus he can not find true happiness, for his freedom is not real. He is attached to the gym which is also strongly connected to his career as the Emperor. 
No one can survive on his own. This explicates why Cynics had disciples in the end. And now, you comprehend the role of Kim Dan in Joo Jaekyung’s life. It is to remind him of his true nature. He is a human and not a dog-wolf. Thus the champion recommended his PT to live elsewhere, a sign that he was indeed a human. 
(chapter 10) 
(chapter 2) This explicates why the champion was crossing his arms while confronting the goblin. He was on the defensive. That’s how it dawned on me why the celebrity fell in love with Kim Dan at first sight, and why he enjoyed their first night together. The “hamster’s fear” was genuine. His desertion displayed respect towards the celebrity. He was recognizing his strength and power. 
(chapter 1) Then the micro-expressions from Kim Dan exposed his lie 
(chapter 3) On the one hand, the champion’s worldview about humans got reinforced, on the other hand the doctor’s deception symbolized his purity. He was a virgin, which was contradicting his “theory” too.
(chapter 11) He even looked like a ruler abusing his authority. 
(chapter 11) 
(chapter 33) or even the idea of friendship 
(chapter 30) Heesung was not just taking advantage of his reputation, he was also teasing the sportsman. Joo Jaekyung has such a negative perception of humans. 
(chapter 33) Hence he looks down on poor people. 
(chapter 10): Gamblers, laziness, no sense of hygiene etc. Consequently, he is not capable to understand the worries from Kim Dan
(chapter 42), Park Namwook 
(chapter 46) and Jeon Yosep. He feels like they are questioning his success. It was, as if they had other motives. He only relies on himself, he is not “truly” listening to others… though it is not correct. He is getting manipulated by his “counselors”. 
(chapter 36)
(chapter 2)
(chapter 26) He is standing in front of a dilemma. Fighting is the expression of nature and self-reliance, yet his fights serve as entertainment for MMA lovers. MMA is strongly intertwined with business and money. 
(chapter 45) was showing the doctor’s golden heart. He was just judging his lover based on his past experiences and his negative worldview. And this brings me to list the cause for Cynicism:
(chapter 6) 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 2) He learned through Cheolmin that he could kill him. This shows his good nature in verity. Hence he resorted to such gestures, when his cynical depression resurfaced: 
(chapter 32) 
(chapter 37) 
(chapter 45) As you can see, little by little, the champion is learning to control his rage and “cynicism”. During the last argument, he didn’t touch the physical therapist at all. He still allows him to stay at his place and he is shown as caring later. 
(chapter 47) It shows a certain trust. One might argue about this interpretation. This could be seen as indifference. However, I believe that his altercation with Seonho must have been quite an eye-opening for the champion. 
(chapter 46) It is because Kim Dan had not talked back to Joo Jaekyung during their argument. He had accepted his criticism silently contrary to Seonho. Right now, he has the impression that he still has the upper hand, but he couldn’t be more wrong. 
(chapter 26) He has the impression that he can control people, since he is wealthy. Yet, he is not realizing that he can get stabbed because of money as well. We have two perfect examples. Because of the drug incident, the MFC security guys betrayed him, as they protected the organization 
(chapter 40) Then in episode 47, the emperor got manipulated by his so-called loyal advisors. 
(chapter 47) First, I would like to outline that neither the manager from the Entertainment agency nor his acolyte brought up the underground fighting ring and Baek Junmin’s dubious success. 
(chapter 47) With their video, they presented him as an average and reliable fighter. 
(chapter 47) Observe the divergence between the advisors’ words and the members’ from Team Black. 
(chapter 21) Moreover, the grandmother’s mortality could serve as a reminder for the champion that he is also a human… just like the others he condemns. Besides, she embodies true selflessness and gratitude. Hence she took the champion’s hand to thank him
(chapter 22) This is what psychologists recommend to overcome Cynicism:
(chapter 41) He never heard her recognition. In addition, until now, Kim Dan spoke in the name of others or didn’t defend his own point. Team Black’s loyalty would be the evidence that it is dangerous to judge people based on prejudices and past experiences. He needs to reflect on his own actions as well. If the Emperor heard “his members”, he would realize that MFC as an organization is corrupted and is even involved with criminality. He is already sensing something, but he can not identify the problem. 
(chapter 47) Should Kim Dan divulge Baek Junmin’s connections to the underground fighting ring or simply show him the message,
(chapter 47), he would prove his faithfulness and sincerity to the fighter. And the vicious circle would be broken. Though he is broke, he would give up on an opportunity to earn some money easily. To conclude, as long as the champion is still a cynical character, he can not enter a relationship with Kim Dan. For that, he needs to open up his heart and third eye so that he can recognize his partner’s selflessness and honesty. Finally, he will realize that he needs the assistance of others in order to be able to keep his reputation intact (witnesses, supporters). There is no doubt that the Emperor will be badmouthed again.
(chapter 14) On the other hand, some readers might wonder why I am connecting Kim Dan to princess (Prince S). I have many reasons for this association.
(chapter 30) This woman, named Sihyun, is suffering from Dependent Personality Disorder. And the author of the Webtoon Doctor Frost called her story: “The tears of Princess Pyeonggang”. Due to her personality, she was linked to the famous “princess”. She would do everything for her companions, yet she kept getting dumped. What caught my attention is that both women defined themselves through their partner. Their ultimate goal in life is to assist them, to make the other happy or recognized. But how is it a problem?
(chapter 33) What appeared as caring turned out to be a load, for the partners were all forced to be responsible for her and in every aspect of her life. They definitely felt asphyxiated, hence they could only get sick of her. Interesting is that this person would find shortly after the separation a new boyfriend, a sign that she could not live on her own. 
(chapter 33) And now, you are wondering how Sihyun is similar to Kim Dan, who only had one person in his life before he met the champion. It is related to traumas in their childhood. 
(Doctor Frost, chapter 39) After reading this, Jinx-philes can realize that Kim Dan is also suffering from Dependent Personality Disorder, though it is less obvious. He got abandoned by his parents making him feel insecure. 
(chapter 21) We could detect his low self-esteem 
(chapter 25) 
(chapter 16) 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 42) and before it was by his halmoni’s fate. 
(chapter 19) However, here please don’t get me wrong. For me, the athlete is the physical therapist’s emancipator. This huge argument in the dining room pushed him to differentiate himself from the champion. In my eyes, Kim Dan would have returned to his old bad habits… relying on someone else, sacrificing himself for someone’s else sake. He would have neglected his career in the end.
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 31) Here, we get an explanation why he couldn’t detect the trick from Choi Heesung. He feared to make a diagnosis on his own, as he didn’t desire to question the words from the comedian. The hospital seems to be the sacred place in the doctor’s eyes. 
(chapter 41) There, nothing can go wrong. But by entrusting his patients to hospitals, he didn’t realize that he was appearing as untrustworthy or even “incompetent”. His lack of confidence and hesitation explicate why the athlete replied to his suggestion like this: 
(chapter 41) How could he question the doctor from MFC, when he kept hiding behind a hospital or the words from other physicians? That’s how the physical therapist got silenced. He couldn’t confront the athlete with his diagnosis. Interesting is that he never gave him the file later! 
(chapter 42) Consequently, it is not surprising why the champion complained about the doctor’s negligence. The latter was avoiding any responsibility in the end. On the other hand, the report is the symbol of his hard work, but also of his knowledge. That’s the reason why I am still considering the dispute in chapter 45 as a good omen for the physical therapist. He needs to develop his own identity. They are two different people. He needs to live for himself, to give a meaning to his life and not: 
(chapter 27) That’s how it dawned on me why the doctor reverted to his old habits (not participating to the meeting, taking odd jobs, not voicing his own judgment, relying on others) after the night, when he was treated as sex toy. However, in my eyes, the trigger for this switch was the release of the tabloid article. 
(chapter 35). Why did the doctor appear so confident in front of his client to the point that he could reject his hand after going to the hospital? 
(chapter 27) It is because his self-esteem had been boosted by Dr. Lee. The latter had complimented him which didn’t fall on deaf ears. However, the relationship between the respectable hospital and the athlete went sour due to his article. 
(chapter 35) Imagine what it meant for Kim Dan. He could only remain passive, as he is called “doctor”. He views himself as a member from the medical field. Furthermore, observe what the sports therapist told him during the treatment session: 
(chapter 42) He mentioned the lawsuit against the most reputable hospital. The dispute could only diminish his self-esteem. As time passed on, there is no ambiguity that this lawsuit must have burdened more and more the physical therapist. Besides, there is no doubt that he felt some loyalty towards doctor Lee who had been complimenting him. Secondly, let’s not forget that despite his “efforts”, he had not been able to convince his patient to stop training for one day. 
(chapter 29) Hence he jumped to the conclusion that his patient would not listen to him anyway. 
(chapter 46) This is not surprising that Mingwa zoomed on his feet. 
(chapter 46) It is full of symbolism. For the first time, he is standing on his own feet. His walk in direction to the trash bin illustrates his choice. 
(chapter 46) Besides, he is using the personal pronoun “I”. 
(chapter 46) He was just a physical therapist and nothing more. This shows his lack of criticism. He is still not mentally strong enough to question the champion’s words and argue back. In the past, he could do it, for he was identifying himself with his grandmother and her values. 
(chapter 42) The latter was also dependent on the champion, but his “addiction” was money and not love or recognition. Therefore he picked up the money before leaving the flat
(chapter 2), while the other threw away the expensive keychain 
(chapter 46). This scene exposes the return of Kim Dan’s dignity. This comparison reinforces my interpretation that the champion misjudged the doctor’s present and actions. He imagined that Kim Dan had been acting like his “previous sex-partners” or stans. They would offer him some gifts in exchange of favors. Another contrast with the goblin is the absence of a fight and discussion. 
(chapter 2) I would even add that contrary to the green-haired guy, the doctor is not judging his patient’s personality, he is blaming himself. 
(Doctor Frost, chapter 32) Interesting is that doctor Frost revealed to her later that her condition made her an easy target, as she kept relying on others. 
(Doctor Frost, chapter 39) And this observation brings me to my next conclusion: he will be approached by really bad guys, the mysterious Mr. Choi! 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 1) He even needs to learn the difference between good guy and nice guy, but this remark applies to the grandmother. 
(chapter 21), yet their actions were not truly selfless. 
(chapter 44) He found fulfilment in sex, which stands in opposition to the recommendation of zackbeach. Moreover, I would like to underline that the doctor reduced knowledge to sex: 
(chapter 46) It helps him to face reality. He is on his own, he needs to stop relying on others. I would even say, he is encouraged to make decisions and as such to become responsible for his own life. It is important, because this means that he will have to fight back, if he wants to survive. He can not make any desperate and hasty decisions, like this one: 
(chapter 1) However, since he listened to the champion’s reproach and became submissive again, their relationship seems to have returned to normality. They even appear as close. 
(chapter 41) reminded me of the ending of a fairy tale: they lived happily ever after. But the doctor was forgetting that life doesn’t end after the match in the States. Life ends with death. In verity, the champion is destined to be challenged, until he retires. What the doctor saw was not the end. This exposes his naivety. How could he have such a view? It is influenced by his grandmother. 
(chapter 10) At no moment he pondered about himself. Happiness was never his goal, exactly like in fairy tales. Sleeping Beauty is rather passive. She sleeps, until the prince charming appears and kisses her. After that, they have kids. Interesting is that they don’t get married right away, so that the princess initially has the status of a mistress or concubine. Once the prince can secure his position, he marries her. Then the moment her husband leaves her side for war, she is tormented by her mother-in-law, the ogress. She can only escape death thanks to the intervention of her husband. We could say that happiness fell on her lap. Sleeping Beauty stands for passivity, dependence on her parents and husband and lack of critical thinking. Why? It is because the princess in fairy tales, in particular Sleeping Beauty, embodies toxic positivity.
(chapter 21) She rejected her grandson’s fear and tears. She didn’t allow him to express his abandonment issues. She diminished his anxiety by questioning his behavior: “It’s okay, grandma was just in the kitchen getting a glass of water.” Then in the present, we could use his visit at the hospital: 
(chapter 45) With this contrast, the fear from the champion becomes more palpable. Joo Jaekyung got angry, for he had been put in the same situation. But the latter was never influenced by Toxic Positivity. Besides, he was fighting against his own inner demons. Nevertheless, this new interpretation of the birthday made me recognize why the author chose this chronology concerning Kim Dan’s past:
(chapter 1) However, he could never confide to his grandmother about the physical abuse from the loan shark. However, the moment his hope got up 
(chapter 11), as he imagined that he could pay off the debts, he recalled his birthday. He had a nice “souvenir”… convincing himself that everything was fine. He would be able to do it, like his grandmother had told him. 
(chapter 12) Therefore I understand why the doctor didn’t fight back against Heo Manwook and his minions. 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 11) But the moneylender and his minions are no honest bankers, but criminals. They enjoy using their strength, that makes them feel powerful. It boosts their ego. 
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 