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 Birth of A Flower (part 1) and The Beginning of the End
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The Hand That Says Everything and Nothing
There is a gesture in episode 90 that unsettles me more than any act of violence, any argument, any explicit rejection. Joo Jaekyung reaches out 
(chapter 90) — and then he pulls his hand back. 
(chapter 90) No words are spoken to stop him. His hand is not even pushed away, like doc Dan did it before. 
(chapter 21) Everything happens in silence. The interruption comes entirely from within.
As readers, we could be tempted to read this as restraint, perhaps even growth. Yet the text itself resists that interpretation. The thought accompanying the gesture is not “I need you”, but “Who am I to ask you to stay?” The question is not directed at Kim Dan. It is directed at himself.
This hand says everything and nothing at once. It reveals a conviction without explaining it, a decision without justification and dialogue. In this moment, Joo Jaekyung no longer sees himself as a person capable of care, protection, or repair. He sees himself as the origin of harm — not merely someone who committed mistakes, but someone whose presence has become synonymous with violence and sin. It is, as if he has absorbed every accusation, every outcome, every imbalance of power, until he no longer distinguishes between what he did and what was done through him. He does not fear becoming abusive; he believes he already embodies it. To conclude, Joo Jaekyung has reached a point where he positions himself as the origin of Kim Dan’s suffering. 
(chapter 90) In his mind, everything that followed the hiring — the money, the contract, the protection, the conflicts — converges back onto him. Faced with this conclusion, he rewrites the past. The good moments lose their weight. 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 88) 
(chapter 89) The help he provided becomes irrelevant. What remains is a single narrative: meeting him caused harm.
To grasp the logic of this withdrawal, it is not enough to examine this scene in isolation. We must also contrast it with earlier scenes, with figures who shaped his thinking, and with patterns of responsibility and shame that predate Kim Dan. Only then does the withdrawn hand reveal its meaning: not respect, not restraint, but the first visible sign of self-erasure and sacrifice — a silence chosen in the belief that presence itself has become a form of wrongdoing.
The Art of Letting Go
What is striking in this scene is not only what Joo Jaekyung does, but what Mingwa deliberately withholds from view. (chapter 90) We never see his face while listening to his thoughts. The panels deny us access to his facial expression (chapter 90), his eyes, any visible articulation of emotion. Instead, we are positioned behind him, aligned with his back and his outstretched hand, while his inner thoughts unfold in silence. Meaning is displaced from facial expression to bodily interruption. Jinx-philes must infer everything from posture, movement, and absence.
The hand he extends is open, hesitant, and trembling. (chapter 90) In Mingwa’s visual language, this matters. An open hand is not an instrument of control but of appeal. It does not seize; it exposes vulnerability. He needs help and support. The tremor is equally significant. This is not the vibration of contained rage or adrenaline before a fight. It is a body that no longer commits itself fully to action. For the first time, Joo Jaekyung’s physical certainty fractures before a gesture is completed.
At that moment, what collapses is not his strength, but his fighting spirit. It becomes obvious, when you compare this gesture (chapter 90) to his old habit, 
(chapter 61) the clenched fist, when he expressed determination to achieve his goal (bringing back doc Dan or winning a fight). 
(chapter 81)
Until now, Joo Jaekyung has always responded to crisis through resistance. Even when cornered, he pushed forward—by clenching his fists, facing confrontation 
(chapter 74), or converting conflict into challenge. 
(chapter 73) Fighting was not only his profession; it was his primary mode of being in the world. Here, however, the impulse to fight dissolves. (chapter 90) The hand does not harden into a grip. It falters. The will to confront, insist, or endure gives way to resignation.
It is precisely this loss that recalls another scene—not because the gestures are identical, but because the logic of bodily collapse suddenly aligns. In episode 16, Kim Dan does not begin by pleading in front of Heo Manwook, the loan shark. 
(chapter 16) His hand is first crushed. The antagonist targets the very instrument of his livelihood, injuring what allows him to work, to treat, to survive. Only after this act of violence does Kim Dan cling to his aggressor. 
(chapter 16) The grasp that follows is not an invitation, but a reaction to damage already inflicted. Resistance has been broken through the body before appeal becomes possible. It symbolizes submission, exactly like in the penthouse.
Mingwa stages this sequence carefully: injury precedes supplication. Kim Dan’s grip is not a sign of agency, but of desperation. He does not extend his hand freely; he clutches because he has been made vulnerable. Survival no longer depends on strength or refusal, but on mercy extracted after harm.
The echo in episode 90 is therefore not visual symmetry, but structural reversal. Joo Jaekyung’s hand has not been crushed. (chapter 90) No external force has targeted his body, his career, or his means of survival. And yet the gesture falters all the same, as the damage has already occurred.
The violence here is not enacted through force, but through language. Heesung’s words on the rooftop —accusations of brutality 
(chapter 89), unlovability, moral contamination 
(chapter 89) — do not introduce a foreign judgment. They articulate what Joo Jaekyung already believes about himself. 
(chapter 84) Deep down, he thinks that he can not be forgiven and even loved. This is precisely why they take hold. Spoken aloud, they acquire the authority of truth. Once internalized, they no longer need to be repeated.
Mingwa makes this internalization visible not through dialogue, but through a remembered image. 
(chapter 89) The panel does not show Heesung speaking again; it shows Joo Jaekyung’s clenched fist, isolated, rigid, suspended in recollection. This is not the fist of imminent action. It does not precede a strike. It does not convert pain into confrontation. Instead, it freezes.
In earlier scenes, the clenched fist functioned as a promise—to endure, to retaliate, to win. Here, it marks the opposite. The body remembers the accusation, but no longer translates it into resistance. The fist no longer gathers force; it contains it, uselessly. What we witness is not suppressed violence, but the final struggle and imminent collapse of the impulse to fight at all.
This is the decisive shift. The accusation has done its work. Joo Jaekyung does not respond by proving Heesung wrong; he responds by accepting the premise. If violence defines him, then restraint is no longer ethical struggle—it becomes erasure. The fighting spirit does not turn inward. It simply disappears.
Unlike Kim Dan, whose resistance is broken by injury, Joo Jaekyung arrives at surrender through “self-recognition”, another false belief. His hand retreats not because it has been harmed, but because he has accepted the premise that his presence itself is harmful. The violence has migrated inward. It no longer needs an aggressor.
In this sense, Joo Jaekyung mirrors Kim Dan not at the moment of physical injury, but at the moment after domination has succeeded—when resistance feels illegitimate, and appeal itself begins to seem like an act of transgression.
The contrast, however, is just as important as the resemblance. Unlike Kim Dan in episode 16, Joo Jaekyung is not on his knees. (chapter 90) He is not physically lowered, cornered, or framed from above. His body remains upright, broad, and imposing. From the outside, he still appears strong, yet deep down, he is falling apart. The withdrawal of the hand is not restraint, but surrender. A strong body remains standing while the will to fight quietly disappears.
What deepens the tragedy of this moment is that Kim Dan does not witness the champion’s action. (chapter 90) His gaze drifts elsewhere, toward the teddy bear. He is oblivious to the trembling, the hesitation, or the aborted appeal. Nor does he meet Joo Jaekyung’s eyes—because the eyes are never shown. The scene is structured around a double absence: a plea that is never fully expressed, and a witness who never sees it. To conclude, the physical therapist has no idea about the inner turmoil of his fated lover.
After revealing his past with the perverted hospital director, Kim Dan had tried to calm Joo Jaekyung by touching his arm 
, (chapter 90) offering reassurance. That attempt failed, not because Kim Dan lacked care, but because reassurance can only reach someone who is still willing to fight for their place. Joo Jaekyung is no longer asking how to endure. He is asking whether he should exist in this space at all.
What blocks Kim Dan’s words from reaching him is not their content, but the position from which they are received. Joo Jaekyung hears them through a familiar filter — one that reduces Kim Dan to someone who must be protected from himself. In doing so, he unconsciously aligns himself with the very figures who shaped Kim Dan’s silence: the grandmother who decided for him 
(chapter 65), and Heesung who dismissed his agency 
(chapter 89) under the guise of concern.
Yet Kim Dan’s words are neither naïve nor dependent. He states them clearly: the arrangement was consensual; the price was his to set; what followed was his responsibility. He does not ask to be spared, corrected, or guided. He asserts authorship over his own choices. (chapter 90) But this assertion cannot be heard by someone who has already decided that Kim Dan must be shielded — even from himself.
The rooftop scene before that night exposes the same logic from another angle. Heesung, too, frames Kim Dan as “too nice for his own good,” implying that he does not know what is right for him, and that any involvement with Joo Jaekyung must therefore be exploitation. In both cases, concern becomes a form of erasure. Kim Dan’s agency is acknowledged in words 
(chapter 65), but denied in structure.
Faced with this, Joo Jaekyung does not challenge Kim Dan’s claim. (chapter 90) He does something more drastic: he removes himself. If Kim Dan cannot be recognized as an equal subject capable of choosing him, then the only ethical position left, in Joo Jaekyung’s mind, is disappearance. By refusing to claim a right, Joo Jaekyung does return choice to Kim Dan. But he does so by removing himself from the field of choice altogether. There is no negotiation. What appears as liberation is inseparable from abandonment, because it is grounded not in trust, but in the belief that his presence is illegitimate.
This is why the scene cannot be read as growth. It marks the moment when the champion loses the impulse that once defined him. The withdrawal of the hand is not restraint, but surrender. A strong body remains standing while the will to fight quietly disappears. At this point, the language of the jinx quietly inverts. Earlier, Joo Jaekyung spoke of it as something he had—a misfortune attached to him 
(chapter 2), an external curse that followed his steps. Here, that distinction collapses. He no longer experiences the jinx as an event or condition, but as an identity. He does not fear what might happen because of him; he accepts that he himself is what causes harm. The curse is no longer something he carries. It is something he has become. Once internalized in this way, it no longer requires rituals to contain it. 
(chapter 75) Practices that once functioned as talismans—gestures meant to ward off misfortune or secure victory—lose their meaning. 
(chapter 75) What collapses is not only belief in luck, but belief in the necessity of striving at all.
A Space Marked by Collapse
This collapse does not occur in a neutral space. (chapter 90) The room in which Joo Jaekyung withdraws his hand is not simply Kim Dan’s bedroom, nor a private refuge removed from the world. It is a place already marked by interruption, illness, and loss. Again and again, this room has functioned as a site where bodies fail, where care becomes urgent, and where stability quietly dissolves. Fainting, sleeplessness, sickness, drinking, and disappearance have all passed through it. Long before episode 90, this space had been associated not with recovery, but with moments when endurance gives way and something must be endured instead. What unfolds here does not begin with the withdrawn hand. The room has been preparing it all along.
The pattern begins early. In episode 10 
8episode 10), Kim Dan wakes up there after drinking excessively, confused why he is sleeping in the penthouse. He doesn’t know that the night before in his drunkenness, his thoughts were turning toward his grandmother. He was mistaking the athlete for his relative. 
(chapter 10) He feared getting abandoned. When the doctor realized his whereabouts, he imagined that he had sex with the champion. As you can see, the bedroom is strongly intertwined with longing and sin, where consciousness returns only after collapse. This association deepens in episode 20, when sexual intimacy is immediately followed by a phone call announcing his grandmother’s critical condition. 
(chapter 20) Pleasure and threat coexist in the same space, binding the room to the anticipation of loss.
Later, in episode 29, Kim Dan wakes up there after fainting 
(chapter 29), his body once again giving way under accumulated strain. The room is no longer merely where exhaustion manifests; it is where it becomes undeniable. In episode 61, the association shifts again: Joo Jaekyung comes to the room seeking sex, but Kim Dan is unwell, unable to voice his own thoughts, unable to refuse. 
(chapter 61) Illness interrupts desire, and the room marks the moment where agency falters.
The most alarming incident occurs when Kim Dan sleepwalks and nearly falls from the railing 
(chapter 79). Once more, it is this room that frames the danger. 
(chapter 79) The body moves without consciousness, hovering at the edge between presence and disappearance. The room becomes a liminal space where life is not actively threatened by violence, but quietly endangered by exhaustion and dissociation (suicidal thoughts).
This accumulation reaches a turning point in episode 53, after Kim Dan leaves. Joo Jaekyung enters the now deserted room and finds the jacket left behind. 
(chapter 53) The object becomes a trace of absence, and the room transforms into a container of loss. Standing by the window, Joo Jaekyung is portrayed without eyes. 
(chapter 53) The visual choice is crucial: it does not indicate blindness in a literal sense, but an inability to see forward, to orient himself. He is present in the room, but detached from direction and purpose. This scene announces the falling apart of the athlete.
What follows does not mean that Joo Jaekyung begins to deteriorate inside this room. On the contrary. After Kim Dan’s departure, he avoids it. 
(chapter 55) The space is sealed off, preserved, treated almost as a forbidden zone. The cleaning staff is not allowed to enter. Nothing is moved, corrected, or neutralized. The room becomes a reliquary rather than a dwelling — a place frozen in the moment of loss. Joo Jaekyung does not confront what happened there; he keeps it intact, untouched, and therefore unresolved. At the same time, he imagines that avoiding that place will help him to forget doc Dan’s gaze and face.
Therefore it is logical that his collapse unfolds elsewhere. The displacement is visible. In episode 53, the jacket is thrown in the direction of the couch. 
(chapter 53)
(chapter 53) In episode 54, wine bottles begin to accumulate beside the couch 
(chapter 54) in his own bedroom leaving a huge red wine stain on the carpet. 
(chapter 55) And in episode 90, the teddy bear now rests on the couch in Kim Dan’s room 
(chapter 90) — occupying the very place toward which the jacket once flew. Across these scenes, the hand and couch emerge as a recurring site of impact, exhaustion, and surrender. It is where bodies fall, where frustration lands, where the weight of what cannot be said is deposited. One detail caught my attention: because they are not sitting on the couch, the main leads are discussing together. They are able to face each other and as such to listen to each other. 
(chapter 90) Their respective position in this room reminded me of their previous arguments. 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 51) 
(chapter 61) 
(chapter 64) Only when they would truly face each other, they would be more honest and expose their thoughts and emotions. As soon as there is a table, a bed or a couch, I detected some restrain and silence. In other words, the presence of the teddy bear and the couch in that scene explains why Kim Dan is silent and passive after their conversation. He is definitely remembering the day and conversation at the amusement park. (chapter 90) I am hoping that he finally talks about his past and childhood in the next chapter. But honestly, I am a little skeptical, as doc Dan has no idea how Joo Jaekyung suffered, while he was away (loss of money and contracts, members, reproaches from Potato and Park Namwook, the slap, no one showed a true concern for his well-being). They all expected him to return to his old self and become a champion again. He only learned recently that members had abandoned him. 
(chapter 88) On the other hand, it is about time that doc Dan becomes proactive so that they finally become a real team. 
But let’s return our attention to the room. (chapter 90) The latter itself remains suspended, untrespassed. (chapter 55) But the logic it contains spreads. What cannot be processed there resurfaces around the couch: drinking replaces training; avoidance replaces discipline; headaches replace resolve. Insomnia leads to inertia and passivity. Joo Jaekyung does not resign, and he does not openly collapse. Yet something essential fractures. Here, the fighter remains active in form, but disengaged in spirit. His depression does not announce itself through breakdown, but through relocation — from the preserved space of loss to the furniture that absorbs its aftermath.It is a space where suffering does not explode but accumulates, where the narrative repeatedly returns to show that unwell-being is not an exception, but a condition that has been waiting to be acknowledged.
Within The Silent Friend in the Blue Light, this room becomes one of depression’s many disguises: familiar, enclosed, outwardly calm, yet saturated with vulnerability. It does not announce danger. It hosts it quietly.
The Hidden Mirror of Sacrifice
What emerges after this displacement is not merely grief, but inversion. Without naming it, the narrative stages a quiet exchange of positions. Joo Jaekyung begins to occupy the place Kim Dan once held — not in circumstance, but in moral posture. The champion who once advanced through force, certainty, and entitlement now adopts the logic of self-erasure (chapter 90) that defined the doctor’s earlier life.
For a long time, Kim Dan lived under the conviction that his presence imposed a burden. He apologized 
(chapter 79) for everything. He was to blame for everything. 
(chapter 37) He endured before being asked. He accepted harm as a condition of acceptance and staying. His silence was not passivity, but a learned ethics: if I ask for less, if I take up less space, if I disappear when necessary, others, in particular his grandmother, might be spared. 
(chapter 53) That posture did not originate with Joo Jaekyung. It preceded him. It was shaped by debt, obligation, omission, and by figures who decided on Kim Dan’s behalf what he could endure and what he deserved.
In episode 90, that posture reappears — but it is no longer Kim Dan’s. Joo Jaekyung does not lash out. 
(chapter 90) He does not argue. He does not demand. Instead, he blames himself for everything, thus he withdraws. He refuses to claim a right. He positions himself as the problem that must be removed so that something better might follow. 
(chapter 53) This is the same moral calculus Kim Dan once applied to himself: the belief that care becomes ethical only when it is accompanied by sacrifice, and that love, if it exists at all, must be proven through disappearance. The only difference is that he can not apologize as his existence has become the synonym of wrongdoing. Thus Kim Dan can not hear the distress from his “loved one”.
The mirroring is not obvious, because the bodies do not look alike. Kim Dan’s earlier suffering was visible: exhaustion, malnourishment, fainting, tears. Joo Jaekyung’s is not. He stopped crying a long time ago. 
(chapter 74) He remains upright. His posture holds. Yet, he is now voiceless exactly like the physical therapist in the past. From the outside, he still appears powerful, but the loss of cry or sound indicates loss of agency and choice. But structurally, the positions have reversed. The one who once endured now asserts authorship over his choices. (chapter 90) The one who once claimed authority now doubts his right to remain.
This inversion does not arise in a vacuum. It is prepared by encounters with figures who mistake projection for truth. Both Heesung 
(chapter 89) and the green-haired man 
(chapter 42) operate through the same mechanism: they reduce complexity into a single verdict. Like false mirrors, they collapse months into moments, gestures into essence, and relationships into accusations. They speak as if they own the truth — not because they see clearly, but because jealousy and greed demand certainty. Hence they are connected to the color green. Their words are not reflective (chapter 89); they are consumptive.
As I argued in my earlier essay on deceptive mirrors, the green-haired man is not a mirror at all, but a monster revealed by one. He does not reflect; he distorts. Kim Dan, by contrast, functions as the Ungaikyō — the mirror beyond the clouds — which does not invent monstrosity, but exposes it. In his presence, hidden motives surface: envy, entitlement, moral resentment. This is why certain figures cannot bear his gaze, and why others attempt to shatter the reflection by attacking the one who stands beside him.
This reversal also explains why Kim Dan cannot recognize what is happening. (chapter 90) He continues to address Joo Jaekyung as an athlete, a patient, a man who needs reassurance. He speaks clearly, claims responsibility, and insists on consent. He does everything that would have saved him in the past. But those words reach someone who is no longer negotiating endurance. Joo Jaekyung is not asking how to stay. He has already concluded that by keeping him by his side is wrong.
Here lies the fatal misalignment: because Joo Jaekyung possesses such a damaged self-image, he interprets his ability to expose corruption as proof that he belongs to it. He detects the hospital director’s moral rot instantly 
(chapter 90) — not because he shares it, but because the mirror he has become reveals it. Yet instead of recognizing this capacity as ethical clarity, he mistakes it for contamination. He equates himself with the very figures whose cruelty is laid bare in his presence. However, he is making a huge mistake, he is accepting this projection forgetting that he had it all wrong for one reason: 
(chapter 90) During their first meeting, the “hamster” had grabbed his “anaconda”. 
(chapter 1) Such a gesture could be interpreted as a seduction, and don’t forget that the previous physical therapist had rubbed him the wrong way: 
(chapter 1) Finally, observe that after this incident, Joo Jaekyung was looking at the embarrassed doc Dan 
(chapter 56) and thinking that they could have fun together in bed. 
(chapter 56) So doc Dan has his share of responsibility in the champion’s misjudgment.
In this sense, the mirror remains hidden because it reflects an earlier version of Kim Dan that the latter himself has begun to leave behind. That’s why he is looking at the teddy bear. (chapter 90) Earlier, in Paris, Kim Dan took its hand and squeezed it, drawing steadiness from what it represented rather than from struggle. 
(chapter 84) This gesture symbolized their reconciliation in the end, 
(chapter 84) the return of trust and faith in the “champion”. What Joo Jaekyung mirrors is not who the doctor is now, but who he once had to be in order to survive. The tragedy lies precisely there: the champion adopts a posture the doctor has already outgrown thanks to him.
And as with all mirrors in this story, the reflection is imperfect. Joo Jaekyung’s withdrawal is framed as ethics, not necessity. He believes he is restoring balance by removing himself. But this belief rests on the same flawed premise that once governed Kim Dan’s silence — that one person can decide alone what harm is, and who must vanish to prevent it. The mirror reveals continuity, not resolution.
What appears as role reversal is therefore also a warning. When responsibility becomes indistinguishable from self-removal, the structure of harm does not disappear; it simply changes hands.
The Inherited Horizon (Living for Others)
Joo Jaekyung’s collapse and resignation in episode 90 are not a new development. (chapter 90) It is the reactivation of an older logic — one learned long before Kim Dan entered his life. What surfaces that night is not a crisis born of romance, but the return of a childhood structure in which existence is justified only through sacrifice, and value is always deferred to someone else’s future.
From the beginning, Joo Jaekyung was never taught how to live for himself. Though he was initially encouraged to fight for himself (earning money) 
(chapter 72), the reality was that he longed for a home, which he came to associate with his mother. Thus over the phone, he promised to become strong 
(chapter 72) and earn a lot of money so that his mother could return home. As you can see, fighting was strongly intertwined with his mother and his longing for a family.
His entire horizon is shaped by adults who frame life as endurance in service of others. His father beats him and argues with him by asking for respect.
(chapter 72), as if the boy’s role was to validate the father’s existence. Joo Jaewoong does not ask his son what he wants 
(chapter 73); he mocks his ambition 
(chapter 73) and reduces his dream to delusion. Yet even in conflict, Joo Jaekyung seeks recognition. (chapter 73) He does not reject his father’s gaze — he argues within it, hoping to prove him wrong through success. 
(chapter 73) As you can see, his life is always focused on the future, on one goal and as such one person: the mother, then the father.
Later, Hwang Byungchul reinforces the same structure. He offers MMA fighting not as a way to find joy or self-discovery, but as a means to “honor his mother’s sacrifice” 
(chapter 74) He warns against becoming like the father, to change for the sake of his own mother 
(chapter 74), not by encouraging freedom, but by replacing one obligation with another: win, endure, don’t disgrace the dead. Many years later, he encourages him to change his mind-set, because he could end up alone. 
(chapter 75) For the first time, it is no longer about winning or enduring. 
(chapter 75) However, observe how the main lead reacts to this well-meant advice: 
(chapter 75) He starts visualizing Doc Dan as his goal. It is once again focused on one person and future-oriented.
Striking is that the grandmother in Kim Dan’s life articulates the same ethic from another angle. Kim Dan stays for her sake. (chapter 65) He grows up too fast for her sake. 
(chapter 65) He suppresses desire, health, and rest for her sake. The moral lesson is identical: if your presence risks harm, reduce yourself; if your absence protects others, endure it.
This is the philosophy Joo Jaekyung inherits — and internalizes. This observation leads me to the following conclusion: the MMA fighters treats doc Dan the same way than doc Dan took care of Shin Okja. They both prioritize the well-being of a loved one over themselves. And could this happen? One might say that it is because of the grandmother’s request 
(chapter 65), because she did the same in the past with doc Dan: (chapter 53), but the truth is that this reversal of position started taking place, the moment the athlete paid the loan. It is no coincidence that the new contract is based on the debts. 
(Chapter 77) This means, the debts bring the terrible mind-set to the surface.
The night of episode 74 crystalizes this structure. Joo Jaekyung wins a title, believing victory might finally justify his sacrifices. Instead, he loses both parents at once: his father through death, his mother through abandonment. 
(chapter 74) The latter justifies her betrayal by saying that he is too late, as he is already too old. The promise that sustained him collapses. Winning no longer guarantees return. The future he fought for vanishes. And in the penthouse, we have the same thought again: (chapter 90)
Episode 90 repeats this pattern with devastating precision. Once again, Joo Jaekyung believes that his presence is harmful. Once again, he concludes that removal is ethical. Once again, he lives for someone else’s sake — this time Kim Dan’s. He withdraws not out of desire, but out of obligation. He does not ask what doc Dan wants; he questions himself whether he has the right to keep him by his side. But the gesture represents the answer: He has no right to hope that doc Dan will still live by his side.
Crucially, this is not about winning anymore. The logic of victory has already collapsed. Joo Jaekyung no longer believes that success can restore what was lost. He has internalized the jinx not as misfortune, but as identity. In his mind, Kim Dan has every reason to leave — not because Joo Jaekyung failed, but because he is the failure.
This is why episode 90 does not mirror Kim Dan’s past alone. It repeats Joo Jaekyung’s own childhood logic.
- In episode 73, he claims to fight in order to escape the house.
- In episode 74, he learns that victory costs him everything.
- In episode 90, he stops fighting — because fighting no longer promises return.
The core belief remains unchanged: if you cannot guarantee a good outcome, remove yourself. The hand gesture symbolizes the loss of hope in the end. (chapter 90)
That belief once governed Kim Dan’s life. Now, it governs Joo Jaekyung’s. The tragedy is not that he lets go — but that he does so for the same reason he once fought: not for himself, but to justify his existence through sacrifice. He has never been taught another way to live. Heesung’s words poison him precisely because they echo this logic, arriving at the moment when he had just begun to enjoy life with Kim Dan.
The Silent Friend
At first glance, one might search for the silent friend in the room itself — perhaps in the teddy bear, quietly placed on the sofa where the jacket almost once landed. (chapter 90) The object evokes childhood, comfort, and a softened version of intimacy. It almost invites the idea that this silent presence could be something benign: a substitute for words, a witness that does not judge.
However, with silent friend I am referring to something else. It did not appear in episode 90. It has been there all along. Long before Kim Dan entered his life, Joo Jaekyung was already living with an unnamed mental burden — one he never recognized as such.
It is guilt and self-loathing 
(chapter 54) — longstanding, cumulative, and corrosive. 
(chapter 90) And these two “friends” return during that night. What inhabits the room in episode 90 is not nostalgia, nor an unprocessed sadness that merely needs to be named. The same shame that has structured his life since childhood resurfaces here, stripped of all justifications. Joo Jaekyung is not suffering because he feels abandoned in the present. He is suffering because he believes himself to be the reason others leave. (chapter 90) This conviction predates Kim Dan. It is rooted in the unresolved grief surrounding his father’s death, the mother’s disappearance, and the belief that he arrived too late — that he failed at the very moment success was supposed to redeem everything. That night taught him a lesson he never unlearned: love is fragile, and your existence may be what destroys it. So the childhood traumas led him to develop depression, the silent friend.
The clearest indication is his own confession in episode 29. 
(chapter 29) He cannot sleep. He cannot relax. His body remains permanently alert because, in his words, he could “be killed” at any moment. 
(chapter 29) For him, this is not a symptom. It is simply part of being a fighter. Insomnia is normalized, rationalized, and dismissed as a professional hazard. Yet his listener immediately senses otherwise.
Kim Dan does not react with admiration or resignation. He worries. He asks himself how he could help. 
(chapter 29) He understands that this state is unsustainable — that it is only a matter of time before something gives way. What Joo Jaekyung treats as discipline, Kim Dan recognizes as danger.
This asymmetry matters. It reveals something essential: the champion cannot perceive his own depression, while the doctor can perceive it in others. That is precisely why Kim Dan becomes its mirror.
When Kim Dan later decides to leave, the gesture reads as abandonment — even betrayal. But the motivation is the opposite. Blinded by his own low self-esteem, he believes he has failed as a physical therapist. He takes Joo Jaekyung’s harsh words literally and imagines that if he removes himself, the athlete will remain strong. The last memory he carries with him is not intimacy, but rejection. 
(chapter 53) In his mind, he is obeying a command.
And yet, Kim Dan never truly leaves. He remains present through memory. The abandoned jacket in episode 53 is not a simple object. It becomes the first catalyst. Joo Jaekyung interprets it as rejection, as loss of status — no longer a fan, no longer part of his team. He throws it away in anger. (chapter 53) Read superficially, this looks like karmic reversal for his cruelty on his birthday. 
(chapter 90) But that explanation is insufficient. What actually begins after is grief and recognition.
The memories associated with Kim Dan do not punish Joo Jaekyung — they unsettle him. They force him to confront something he has never allowed himself to name: that he is unhappy, unmoored, and profoundly insecure. He has never been at peace with himself. He has never known how to live outside of obligation and performance. This is why he has never truly lived.
This is where my earlier interpretation deepens rather than changes. After season one, the “hamster” functioned as a personification of the champion’s jinx. 
(chapter 54) Now the logic sharpens: Kim Dan does not merely embody bad luck. He embodies the champion’s mental state — depression, trauma, and chronic self-devaluation. He becomes the surface onto which Joo Jaekyung’s inner instability is projected.
This insight is inseparable from depressive realism.
What struck me when I first encountered this concept was how closely it resembled the main leads’ thinking. The absence of “pink-tinted glasses,” the accurate — sometimes brutally accurate — assessment of control, responsibility, and limitation. Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung does not exaggerate hope. He minimizes it. And paradoxically, this allows Joo Jaekyung to justify not changing. His arguments in episode 29 are coherent, logical, and devastatingly persuasive. Kim Dan ends up convinced that the champion should not rest, should not slow down, should not alter course. 
(chapter 29) And now, in episode 90, Jinx-philes can sense that the athlete is wearing the glasses “depressive realism” once again, where everything seems so true. He recalls all his misdeeds and can only perceive himself as the source of unhappiness for doc Dan. And like mentioned above, during that night, he is just only recalling his wrongdoings. He is overlooking that thanks to him, Doc Dan’s mental and physical conditions 
(chapter 89) improved, that he could make doc Dan smile. Meeting the hospital director made him see everything in a bad light. As you can see, he still has a black and white mentality. However, the truth is that right from the start, the champion had not just been a terrible person. He could be generous, help someone in need. 
(chapter 17) He saved doc Dan’s life twice. 
(chapter 59) He is reducing everything to one single moment and emotion: pain. And his reasoning is resembling a lot to the grandmother‘s: (chapter 65) The only difference is that the grandmother doesn’t express guilt or responsibility for doc Dan’s suffering. For her, it is fate, as she is not responsible for the doctor’s childhood. 
(chapter 65)
Depression thus becomes mutually reinforcing — invisible to the one who carries it, hyper-visible to the one who mirrors it.
This is why the chapter numbers ending in 9 matter.
- 19 introduces absence and the first rupture linked to family and death.
(chapter 19) This image announces the vanishing of the parents. - 29 stages bodily collapse and unrecognized danger.
- 59 flirts with disappearance through dissociation. Back then, the puppy died leading doc Dan to walk into the ocean.
- 69
, when Joo Jaekyung imagines that doc Dan has once again fallen into the ocean and fears to lose him. - 79 when Joo Jaekyung stops him from falling.
(chapter 79) gestures toward falling, both physically and psychologically.
None of these chapters announce suicide. But all of them circle it. They trace the gravitational field of depression — the slow erosion of self-preservation, the normalization of exhaustion, the quiet flirtation with vanishing. However, observe that in episode 89, the notion “suicide” is brought up for the first time by Choi Heesung. 
(chapter 89) Secondly, he is the only one referring to mental illness: (chapter 89): crazy, egomaniac. As you can see, the last arc linked to the number 9 seems to be focusing on depression and mental issues. Joo Jaekyung’s mental state as an athlete was never treated so far by doctors. And now, you understand my interpretation. The celebrity is now placed in the same situation than the physical therapist for another reason: it is to confront both men with their self-loathing and childhood traumas.
Episode 54 ( 54 = 5+4= 9) is the pivotal transfer point. It is the moment when Jinx-philes are confronted with reality, his mental issues and their origins. No wonder, why he started drinking. 
(chapter 54)
The dream seals this logic. Joo Jaekyung does not dream himself crying. He dreams Kim Dan crying. (chapter 54) The image functions as guilt, interrogation, and reflection all at once. It asks: Is he still suffering because of me? But the champion chose back then to read it differently: I am in pain because of you. Thus he tried to find a new “toy” shortly after. But it also reveals something more disturbing: those tears are the champion’s own. He feels them — but cannot express them.
He cannot cry because vulnerability still reads as danger. This is why episode 90 is so alarming.
The silent friend — depression, guilt, self-loathing — no longer needs a proxy. Joo Jaekyung internalizes it fully. He no longer misrecognizes it as insomnia or discipline. He recognizes himself as the problem. The jinx is no longer something that follows him. It is something he has become. But in order to be freed from this immense weight, he needs the support of a friend and a family.
And this is where the unspoken risk emerges. So far, Joo Jaekyung has never spoken about Kim Dan’s suicidal episodes. He has never named them. 
(chapter 78) Now, he is blaming himself for everything — and the narrative quietly aligns him with the same numbers, the same silences, the same logic of disappearance.
This does not mean he is suicidal. But it means the silent friend has returned — no longer mirrored, no longer shared, no longer displaced. And now, look at his eyes once again, (chapter 90) you will notice the redness, a sign that until that night, he is still suffering from insomnia. His insomnia and depression were never treated, and he took care of doc Dan all this time. He never rested properly, especially that there is another match around the corner.
And this belief — more than sadness, more than despair — is what makes episode 90 so dangerous. It marks the point where suffering no longer seeks relief, and responsibility turns inward, demanding disappearance as proof of care. But someone needs to notice how fragile Joo Jaekyung is. But why did the author choose to switch the character’s positions? Doc Dan assumes that during his absence, nothing changed in the athlete’s life. But the reality is that Joo Jaekyung lost contracts 
(chapter 54), while he tells the opposite to his partner. 
(chapter 80) Secondly, he doesn’t know how the champion was blamed for everything and was treated by the other members of Team Black: 
(chapter 52) No one listened to his unwell-being, they rather silenced him. They showed no support and didn’t take care of him. Thus later the athlete started drinking. The physical therapist has no idea what Potato heard either: 
(chapter 52) At the same time, I am suspecting that Mingwa is putting doc Dan in a similar situation than in the past, so that repressed memories about the parents will come to the surface. Keep in mind that the athlete is actually mirroring the parents’ behavior (abandonment and sacrifice as a sign of love and respect). Thus the teddy bear is placed on the couch and the physical therapist is looking at it. 
(chapter 21) A teddy bear was present in his childhood, until it vanished. (chapter 19) Let’s not forget that in episode 90, money plays a huge role and so far, the champion still thinks, the debts truly belong to the physical therapist. Finally, I believe that both could connect emotionally, when they talk about their respective past. In my eyes, it is now Doc Dan’s turn to assist Joo Jaekyung… by offering his hand as a friend. 
(chapter 87)
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(chapter 88), and the final panel hinting at an imminent confrontation with Choi Heesung. 
(chapter 88) Discussions largely revolved around physical proximity, discipline, and anticipation — around bodies in motion and the promise of conflict to come. At first glance, the episode seemed to oscillate between intimacy and tension 
(chapter 88), between preparation 
(chapter 88) and interruption 
(chapter 88).
(chapter 88) are structured around restraint 
(chapter 88), delayed, or redirected. Words are measured, authority is redistributed, and decisions are deferred 
(chapter 88) rather than imposed. What initially appears as physical intensity and narrative suspense begins to reveal a deeper reconfiguration of roles, responsibility, and choice.
(chapter 70)—most likely in November— in late autumn. 
(chapter 88) This temporal setting is visually reinforced by the environment itself: in the opening sequence marked “a few weeks later,” the tree is already bare, its leaves gone. Nature offers no spontaneous image of growth or renewal. If a flower were to appear in this chapter, it couldn’t belong to the season. It must be cultivated, protected, and sustained in a green house—something that emerges not from natural abundance, but from deliberate care. So where does this idea of a flower come from?
: a closed circuit which we could witness once again in the training room: 
(chapter 88) There are once again sparks between them. The number 8 is not just related to doc Dan [for more read 
(chapter 58) Two trajectories —long separated, repeatedly missing one another—intersect at last. When two eights overlap, they form neither a loop nor a knot, but a new shape: a flower-like figure, suggestive of opening rather than closure. This crossing does not resolve everything; instead, it creates the conditions for growth for all the characters. 
(chapter 88), white 
(chapter 88) purple 
(chapter 88), blue, gray, 
, (chapter 88) red 
(chapter 88) Pink frames tenderness and mutual awkwardness; purple marks embarrassment and heightened awareness; red signals suppressed anger and looming confrontation; black absorbs fear, silence, and unresolved tension.
(chapter 88) are dressed in green 
(chapter 19), where green and floral elements once functioned as a silent language of care and containment. The repetition is not accidental. By wearing a similar tone in the present, Kim Dan does not merely revisit the past; he carries it forward. 
(chapter 35), which tend to assert a singular message (love, passion, beauty), hydrangeas communicate multiplicity and emotional ambivalence; they speak in clusters rather than declarations. This visual language mirrors Kim Dan’s inner world at the time 
(chapter 31). Here, the symbolism shifts. Pink roses convey affection and admiration, while baby’s breath suggests innocence and fragility. Yet the arrangement is excessive, overwhelming, and mismatched to its recipient. The bouquet does not listen; it speaks at Kim Dan rather than with him. Significantly, Heesung comes to associate Kim Dan himself with the flower—something delicate, beautiful, and deserving of protection, but also something to be handled, displayed, and possessed. 
(chapter 88) Kim Dan’s green training clothes—visually echoing the green shirt he wore in the photograph with his grandmother—signal continuity rather than regression. This is not a retreat into childhood dependency, but the reappearance of an inner child now disentangled from obligation and fear. The flower that reemerges here is not gifted, not arranged, not imposed—it grows. In this sense, episode 88 introduces a missing element in the dynamic between the two protagonists: not desire, not care, but communication. And it is here that Choi Heesung becomes central—not as a rival or antagonist, but as a structural bridge, as in reality he represents the rose, “La vie en rose” 
. He embodies speech, playfulness, and visibility, yet also reveals their limits when they are severed from responsibility and respect. I will elaborate about this more below.
(chapter 88), but the moment in which the conditions for happiness are finally put into place. And now let me ask you this. What is the symbol of happiness? Smiles and laughs. During the training session, Kim Dan smiles. These moments are brief 
(chapter 83) What is striking is that neither of them recognizes this fulfillment. 
(chapter 31)
(chapter 88) What appears at first glance as coercion 
(chapter 88) or discipline is in fact a negotiation shaped by habit, fear of burdening the other, and an inability—on both sides—to articulate desire outside professional roles.
(chapter 88), a space that is never neutral in Jinx. A car has one driver, one direction, one authority. By placing the conversation there, Mingwa signals that the relationship is still structurally asymmetrical at this point: Joo Jaekyung leads, Kim Dan follows.
(chapter 88) Secondly, such a training suggests that the athlete is gradually remembering this scene of the almost-rape. 
(chapter 17) Therefore it is not surprising that instead of asking permission or explaining concern, he imposes the idea—because that is how he has learned to act as a captain, a fighter, and later a manager. Authority precedes dialogue. 
(chapter 88) In other words, the request from Joo Jaekyung appears as a memory from the physical therapist. Why? 
(chapter 88) Because Mingwa refuses the “clean” sequence in which an order is issued and immediately executed. The narration inserts a gap—an interval of off-panel time that we are forced to reconstruct from Kim Dan’s recall. 
(chapter 88) Instead Kim Dan no longer insists on his own sufficiency. He no longer says “I can manage., but doc Dan admits not only his own lacking. 
(chapter 88), but also his own desire. He finally expresses his desire to improve, to learn more. 
(chapter 88) creates a temporal bridge that enables this recognition. Only once change is named from the outside can Kim Dan cautiously acknowledge it from within.
(chapter 88) The problem is that his form of care was influenced by his own mindset and emotions: his physical limitations.
(chapter 88)
(chapter 88). He teases. 
(chapter 88)
(chapter 88), not rest. Thus the doctor mistakes the embrace for a technique and not the expression of love. 
(chapter 88) And observe that the athlete still refuses to express the true meaning of his hug. His explanation still remains technical, defensive, and strategically framed:
(chapter 88) This sentence is crucial. It reduces contact to function. The closeness of bodies, the pressure of weight, the proximity of breath are translated into instruction. What could be acknowledged as reassurance or care is instead displaced into pedagogy. Joo Jaekyung does not deny intimacy; he relabels it. 
(chapter 88) of breath held too long, of proximity charged with something unnamed. The technical explanation arrives after that awareness, not before it. This confirms that the instructional language functions as a shield — not against intimacy itself, but against having to speak it.
(chapter 88) Directly after warning against lowering one’s guard, Joo Jaekyung kisses him.
(chapter 26) Back then, Doc Dan had accepted the challenge due to Potato, though deep down he desired to have the champion as his teacher. 
(chapter 25) That’s how it dawned on me that doc Dan has gradually taken over Yoon-Gu’s previous place at the gym. He is an “unofficial member” of Team Black. Thus he mops the floor and Yoon-Gu is not there to stop him or reclaim this position. 
(chapter 88) Yoon-Gu’s position within the gym has improved. He is now considered as a real fighter. 
(chapter 88) 
(chapter 87) For him, this trip was related to work, while in reality it was a date in disguise. 
(Chapter 88) The answer restores hierarchy without acknowledging the transformation that has already occurred. Secondly, the answer closes the future by appealing to a supposedly objective limit. Yoon-Gu can never be his sparring partner. The best he can do is hold the mitts and nothing more. The fox is using his seniority and body to have the final say. 
(chapter 88) Under that framework, Yoon-Gu is not disqualified; he is qualified. He has trained. He belongs. So technically, Yoon-Gu could indeed beat the actor, as the “puppy” has trained for a long time at Team Black. 
(special episode 1) He knows people’s patterns. 
(special episode 1) He knows how relationships fail. 
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 33) He knows what he does not want. His language is saturated with judgment shaped by past experiences: lovers who become “too clingy,” attachments that turn inconvenient, people who should remain “better off” elsewhere 
(chapter 58). This knowledge is not neutral; it is retrospective and comparative. It is built from what has disappointed him before, and it governs how he evaluates others in the present. He views himself as superior to the champion morally. 
(chapter 33) Heesung’s orientation is never toward what is unfolding, but toward what might be better elsewhere—another partner, another configuration, another future. His repeated invocation of a “soulmate” is revealing: it displaces intimacy into a hypothetical horizon. By looking at the grass, he is overlooking the flower. Love, for him, is something to be found later, once the conditions are ideal. What exists now is always provisional, always lacking, always subject to replacement. He needs the “perfect” lover, and in his eyes, Potato doesn’t meet his conditions: too innocent and too young. 
(special episode 1) This explicates why the young fighter is only considered as “fuck buddy”. 
(special episode 1) 
(special episode 1), he is present, available, even emotionally invested—but he is never treated as sufficient. He is smaller 
(chapter 58) Heesung’s use of the pronoun “we” is, on the surface, inclusive. Linguistically, it frames his relationship with Potato as mutual, shared, and consensual. But pragmatically, it does the opposite. The “we” is spoken over Potato’s head, not with him. Thus Potato is physically present but discursively absent. He does not confirm, nuance, or reciprocate the statement verbally. The pronoun thus becomes a rhetorical appropriation rather than a sign of partnership. 
(chapter 31) He denies the existence of feelings and attachment. 
(special episode 1) or humiliate the other. 
(chapter 34) Heesung, by contrast, is fluent. He can name, joke, insinuate. What he lacks is restraint and responsibility. His ease with words does not signal emotional intelligence; it signals control.
(special episode 2), corrected. 
(chapter 32). It has no declared endpoint, no moral clarity 
(chapter 34) Heesung enters fully aware of what he is likely to witness. He is not naïve, nor totally surprised. Hence he doesn’t flee right away. Yet instead of acknowledging the reality before him, Doc Dan is not someone the fighter fucks, until he passes out, 
(chapter 34) Joo Jaekyung becomes the problem, the one who “deserves to suffer.” 
(chapter 58) This moral displacement allows Heesung to maintain distance: if Jaekyung is guilty, then no self-examination is required. Forgiveness—central to this arc (from 79 to 89)—is rendered impossible, because forgiveness would require recognizing shared vulnerability rather than assigning blame.
(chapter 25), accepts deferral. Later, he is displaced entirely. Unlike Kim Dan, who gradually moves from imposed participation to earned agency, Potato is never given a space where effort leads to recognition. 
(chapter 85) However, this panel implies that the young man has already been able to enter competition. Striking is that his promise at the seaside sounds like commitment 
(chapter 59), but the reality diverges. It only binds doc Dan. If the latter returns to Seoul, he has to promise to train with Potato. The reason is simple. He is already committed to the actor, he is already at his beck and call. Potato’s promise echoes the earlier promise forced upon Kim Dan by his grandmother: a future-oriented vow that justifies present sacrifice while guaranteeing nothing in return. 
(chapter 11)
(chapter 78), he didn’t remind doc Dan of his promise. At the same time, observe that none of the fighters apologized or promised something. When they hugged the doctor, they didn’t pay attention to the physical therapist’s reaction: his passivity and silence. The “laugh” lacked genuineness and felt wrong at the time. 
(chapter 78) 
(Chapter 88) This is how it dawned on me why Mingwa recreated such a situation for Heesung. Observe his reaction, when he opened the door. He never answered the question to Potato. In fact, he slammed the door and kept his thoughts to himself. 
(chapter 32), Yoon-Gu now provides unpaid labor and institutional access under the guise of familiarity and generosity 
(chapter 35). In both cases, Heesung benefits from proximity without assuming responsibility for the other person’s risk. Silence, here, is not neutral—it is the mechanism by which that asymmetry is maintained.
(chapter 88) Forgiveness, responsibility, and mutual recognition—central to the arc unfolding elsewhere—are entirely absent from his conduct. Where Joo Jaekyung begins to redistribute choice and accountability, Heesung consolidates control by refusing to speak.
(chapter 88) The irony is that the actor didn’t realize this. He had the impression to be exposed to a similar scene than in the penthouse. 
(chapter 35) And now, pay attention to the logo on the doctor’s t- shirt. 
(chapter 88) First, it appears on the left side, positioned close to the hamster’s heart. Moreover, it looks like an orange eye. Orange is not only the color of Heesung the fox 
(chapter 34), but also of friendship and social communication and interaction. 
(chapter 79) Besides, it is the same logo than when Yoon-Gu was spying behind the closed door.
(chapter 23) That’s the moment Potato realized the truth about the couple: they were intimate. That’s the reason why I am convinced that Heesung will play the role of the messenger and mediator between the wolf and the hamster.
I established that Kim Dan’s number is 8. It is therefore no coincidence that the arc from chapter 80 to 89 should revolve around him—his body, his suffering, and ultimately his recovery. The number 8, often associated with balance, renewal, and continuity, here signals not only the doctor’s rebirth but also the gradual thawing of his frozen world. It marks the moment when the past can no longer remain buried, when the last remnants of family and unspoken pain begin to surface. The mystery behind this phone call will be soon revealed. 
(chapter 26) the sparring between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan unfolds under the sign of fun and apparent joy, yet its origin lies in jealousy. The champion, unconsciously triggered by the doctor’s closeness with Potato 
(chapter 25), turns play into a contest—a way to reclaim attention. 
(chapter 25) The gym, usually a place of hierarchy, momentarily becomes a stage where both can laugh, but beneath that laughter runs an undercurrent of rivalry (with Potato). On the other hand, for the first time, the Manhwa allows both protagonists to exist outside the economy of debt and hierarchy. The gym, normally a place of discipline and work, transforms into a playground of laughter. The champion teases the doctor 
(chapter 26) He believes he has accomplished something meaningful and feels, perhaps for the first time, proud of himself. He was taught that he could fight back and overcome his fear. 
(chapter 26) He realizes that the hamster can beam at others, that such light has never been directed at him. In that instant, he no longer sees an employee but a companion whose gaze and embrace he covets, whose approval he unconsciously seeks.
(chapter 62) The atmosphere is brighter in color but colder in tone. There, Joo Jaekyung got to experience how Kim Dan has lived all this time, helping others, making them happy with his assistance. 
(chapter 62) Here, the protagonist was thinking all the time of his loved one: 
(chapter 62) Indirectly, he hoped to get the doctor’s attention, but he failed. In fact, none of the wolf’s good actions got noticed by his fated partner. Interesting is that though the characters engage in acts of performance and service—helping others, pleasing strangers— their smiles have turned into masks. 
(chapter 62) 
(chapter 62) Where chapter 26 radiated spontaneity, this one reveals calculation and fatigue. 
(chapter 62), where exposure to others leaves both men strangely isolated. The happiness of the crowd no longer unites; it separates. The champion’s outfit, ridiculous and domestic 
(chapter 62) which is actually his true nature. I will elaborate more further below. For the first time, the wolf looks at his companion and senses distance instead of warmth, as though the man he once touched so easily has withdrawn behind glass. His thought—“Has he always been this cold?”—marks the beginning of introspection, the moment when perception replaces instinct.
(chapter 80) To “walk on thin ice” is to approach him gently, without force—a lesson the champion must learn if he wishes to thaw what has been frozen by years of duty and self-denial.
(chapter 80) Hence he made this mistake: he threw the doctor’s clothes without the owner’s consent. 
(chapter 80) 
(chapter 80), not red. The atmosphere is fluid, reflective, submerged. Water—not flame—governs this new stage. What we witness is not combustion but fusion—ice meeting water, solid meeting liquid, two states of the same element touching at last. Ice does not just melt under fire; but also in the presence of water. It softens when it recognizes itself in another form. In that sense, Joo Jaekyung’s tenderness doesn’t heat Kim Dan—it mirrors him. The thaw begins not through passion, but through likeness, through quiet recognition. This signifies that Joo Jaekyung is on his way to discover their similarities: they both suffered from bullying and abandonment issues and they love each other.
(chapter 80) —his joy is spontaneous, detached from duty, born from play rather than service. It is his first genuine smile since the sparring match in chapter 26, but this time it arises not from competition, only from freedom. In the same chapter, Joo Jaekyung’s grin 
(chapter 80) at the board game table mirrors that moment: his smile is light, childlike, uncontaminated by dominance. Yet, tellingly, they do not smile together. Each glows in isolation, unaware of the other’s joy. Doc Dan has not realized it yet: he is the wolf’s source of happiness, he is the only one who can make him laugh and smile. 
(chapter 80), I have to admit that my favorite part was this one 
(chapter 80), as it exposes the real metamorphosis from the “wolf”. The night Joo Jaekyung watches Kim Dan sleep is not erotic; it is revolutionary. For once, his desire gives way to perception and attentiveness. The fighter who has conquered bodies now studies one that is quietly losing its battle. The body before him is not the sculpted strength he knows, but a map of deprivation: protruding collarbones 
(chapter 80), visible neck tendons, the knobby finger joints and his stiff fingers resting on the blanket as if holding the body together. 
(chapter 80) The pale, bluish hue of the skin—half light, half illness—tells him what no words ever have.
(chapter 80), the faint opacity of the nails 
(chapter 80) In the faint parting of the mouth he sees not seduction, but exhaustion—a man so depleted that even rest demands effort. 
(chapter 80) he begins to treat rest not as weakness, but as reverence.
(chapter 13) The fighter who once mocked stillness as laziness now finds meaning in it.
(chapter 80) — not from exhaustion, but from understanding. The rhythm of his life starts to synchronize with the doctor’s vulnerability. Time, once his most tightly guarded possession, now bends around another person’s needs. Without noticing, he has allowed Kim Dan to become the owner of his hours — a quiet dethronement that signals love in its earliest, purest form. Moreover, Jinx-philes should realize that the moment the star made this decision, 
(chapter 80), it signifies that he will have to dedicate his time to the physical therapist! Hence his routine and training could get affected, just like their weekends. 
(chapter 78)
(chapter 80) —the doctor 
(chapter 13), the family member 
(chapter 56), the one who stays close enough to touch if needed. 
(chapter 80) Without realizing it,the athlete has inherited that role. His nearness is no longer intrusive but protective. He has crossed the invisible threshold that separates obligation from affection. The fighter who once stood as an outsider in the doctor’s life now finds himself within its most intimate circle.
(chapter 80) Compare his facial expression to the hamster’s before their first day off together. 
(chapter 27) That way, Mingwa can outline the champion’s confidence and that the one who needed the rest is the physical therapist and not the champion.
(chapter 69) Every flicker of light falls through The Emperor’s gaze and lands on Kim Dan’s form, transforming weariness into something sacred. 
(chapter 68) in the bathtub 
(chapter 68) —“I’ll keep him right here in the palm of my hand”—echo now with quiet irony. To hold someone in one’s hand is, paradoxically, to immobilize them; it grants possession but denies agency. The same gesture that promises safety also enacts paralysis. His possessiveness, once mistaken for protection, now appears as helplessness.
(chapter 80) Thus he teaches him swimming. This gesture is not trivial: it marks the moment when care turns into collaboration and liberation, when watching becomes doing.
(chapter 79), 
(chapter 80) shrinking back when confronted. The body remembers the threat long after the mind tries to forget. 
(chapter 79) He lives suspended between two survival reflexes: freezing or fleeing. Since the contract binds him to stay, he cannot physically run away; therefore, his body freezes instead. It is his way of obeying while still protecting himself. Exhaustion becomes his armor. And now, you comprehend why the celebrity could detect the coldness in the “hamster” in front of the hospice. 
(chapter 79) — now turned outward and wounded the one he wished to protect. 
(chapter 79) That icy look became a mirror: it froze Kim Dan’s small confidence, reinforcing his belief that he would always displease or fail others. Since his return to the gym, the doctor feared the emperor’s next outburst, walking on eggshells and suppressing every impulse to speak or move freely. 
(chapter 79) Thus he clinched onto routine to maintain a normal relationship. But once the champion voiced his dissatisfaction (masking his jealousy), the light in the doctor’s gaze vanished. 
(chapter 79)
(chapter 38) Born on December 26th, his very birthday ties him to winter, to the paradox of beauty that burns when touched. 
That’s why I can’t help myself thinking that the physical therapist is actually embodied by the snow. Ice and snow preserve, but they also isolate.
(chapter 77): a sweet that melts too quickly to be shared. Neither man truly appreciated it; both were too absorbed in their own thoughts to enjoy the fleeting pleasure. These missed opportunities — to taste, to feel, to be present — form the emotional prelude to the “thin ice” arc. 
(chapter 80) His smile is still too attached to victory. 
(chapter 63), desperate to restore closeness, mistook passion and pleasure 
(chapter 63) for repair. Believing that physical heat could melt emotional frost 
(chapter 64), he tried to burn away the distance through souvenirs (evoking the night in the States) and desire. Yet the more he tried to ignite fire, the more he fed the cold. 
(chapter 64) The physical act, rather than fusing them, exposed the truth he had refused to see — that his partner was already freezing from within. On the other hand, during this night, the athlete used “self-control” for the first time, his roughness in bed started vanishing. 
(chapter 64) The wolf’s attempt to “burn the bridge” between them became the very thing that broke it. His flame met ice 
(chapter 64), and the result was not warmth but steam — a brief illusion of intimacy that vanished as soon as Kim Dan pulled away. His rejection wasn’t cruelty but a cry of despair, disillusion and exhaustion
(chapter 64): a body too cold to burn, a heart too tired to love and fight.
(chapter 80), but about melting together, letting warmth and cold coexist without annihilating each other. To melt together does not mean to dissolve into sameness, but to trust that proximity will not destroy one’s shape. True intimacy begins when both accept that they can share warmth without losing form — when fire believes it can touch ice without turning it to steam, and ice trusts it can meet fire without vanishing. 
(chapter 61) Touch it bare-handed, and you feel both heat and pain. The same holds true for Kim Dan’s presence: those who reach for him too quickly end up wounding both him and themselves. The sportsman’s early attempts at care followed that pattern — too forceful, too immediate, leaving frostbite where he intended warmth. 
(chapter 64) 
(chapter 79) but anxiety — fear of losing control, of not being seen
(chapter 80) but terror — the instinct to flee before being hurt again. Both used frost as armor, and both mistook it for strength and protection.
(chapter 80) They never played it — and that is no accident. The title encapsulates the temptation Jaekyung must resist: to treat intimacy as a contest, to imagine that trust can be won through tactics or timing. But hearts do not yield to strategies. The only way to melt the ice is not by “breaking” it, but by warming it, patiently, sincerely.
(chapter 80) marks its opposite — a spontaneous act free of calculation. I am not here talking about the purchase of the clothes. When Jaekyung brings new clothes for Kim Dan and places them in his own wardrobe, he is doing something that escapes his usual logic of control. For once, he doesn’t command or anticipate; he simply gives. 
(chapter 66) And this is something the physical therapist could notice, if he enters the room again and pays more attention to his surroundings. This is not about ownership but about inclusion: an unspoken invitation to share a part of himself. 
(chapter 30). Even in that comic panel, the imbalance between physical familiarity and emotional distance was evident. Kim Dan’s embarrassment stood for boundaries not yet earned, and Jaekyung’s casual tone for a love not yet understood.
(chapter 80) His closed eyes are telling: he acts without seeing. The intention is love; the effect is violation. By trying to cleanse Kim Dan’s life of its remnants, he unconsciously repeats the violence of erasure that the doctor has always endured. Keep in mind that the doctor’s teddy bear vanished. 
(chapter 47) One might say that he no longer needed it, yet this point could be refuted, if it was a present from the parents. Throwing it away is like erasing their existence and affection. 
(chapter 80) The scene is small but seismic. The camera places Jaekyung slightly behind, his fists curled and his shoulders tense — an instinctive gesture of self-restraint rather than dominance. He is no longer the one towering above, demanding or explaining; he is waiting, watching, enduring the discomfort of having gone too far. His silence here is not indifference but humility — the silence of someone learning, painfully, what boundaries mean.
(chapter 70) The athlete’s posture 
(chapter 80) 
(chapter 80) — were gestures of power. Now, through trial and correction, they evolve into gestures of reciprocity. Besides, to err is human. In learning how to respect and help, he learns how to love.
(chapter 80) By tending to another’s exhaustion, he faces his own. Each regret
(chapter 79), each small act of patience, rewires the fighter’s inner world. If he controls his temper, then he might get closer to his fated companion. He begins to experience calm where there once was only anger or reaction. The man who lived on adrenaline now practices gentleness as a new form of endurance.
(chapter 21) Behind the warmth of her words lies a quiet wound: she loves her grandson, but she wishes him to be different — stronger, healthier, easier to care for. In his eyes, it’s an unreliable, burdensome shell — a vessel of weakness and sickness. Every protruding collarbone, every cracked lip or dark circle testifies to a deeper wound: the conviction that he is unworthy of care.
(chapter 65) are in fact the boy’s first attempts at self-assertion. In a life where every decision has been dictated by duty, poverty, and responsibility, destroying his own body becomes the only act that truly belongs to him. Each cigarette, each drink, is a tiny rebellion — a momentary claim over flesh that has always served others.
(chapter 62) the weight of that sentence stretches far beyond the bedroom. It carries the residue of every moral, familial, and physical contract that has reduced him to flesh. What the champion hears as accusation is, at its core, a confession of alienation — the echo of a man who has never learned to live inside himself. It’s not only a reproach but a confession. He hates his body because it has become the medium through which he is used, never loved.
(chapter 27)
(chapter 61), the other where no one looks. Yet, the attitude of people is the same: no one pays attention to them. Both inhabit bodies that have forgotten the difference between endurance and pain. Both mistake self-destruction for strength. 
(chapter 18) when Kim Dan, bruised, had seized his hand and expressed his concerns. Back then, the gesture had confused the wolf. His hands were made to strike, to defend, to dominate — not to be pitied or protected. He had pulled away instinctively, unsettled by the tenderness and the huge sense of responsibility behind the question. He felt criticized, as if his power was questioned. 
(chapter 80) What began as misunderstanding in episode 1, 
(chapter 80), Kim Dan panics, convinced that release equals abandonment. 
(chapter 80) He freezes once again. Yet the water holds him; he reaches onto the champion again — and this time, the embrace stays. What makes this moment remarkable is that the pool is shallow. 
(chapter 80) Kim Dan could easily stand on his own, but fear has eclipsed reason. His instinct is not to trust his feet, not to fight the water, but to cling to the man before him. 
(chapter 80) And this has nothing to do with his money and the gifts. This gesture exposes that the hamster does trust the athlete. For me, his passivity is strongly linked to his longing. 
(chapter 16) —that deceptively simple French word—finds its power. It means “ice,” but also “mirror” and “window.” When the champion looks through Kim Dan’s glace 
(chapter 77), unlike the touch of ice. It softens, sweetens, dissolves slowly on the tongue. Likewise, the heat between them no longer needs to scorch; it can melt. And yet, the kiss — once their most volatile exchange — has fallen silent. 
(chapter 64) Kim Dan had to bite his own lips to make Jaekyung stop, and neither has ever truly spoken of it. Yet, during the night, the athlete could see the remains of that cold war. 
(chapter 16), just as the champion has never confessed that it was his first kiss. Moreover, during their first day off together, Joo Jaekyung had also initiated a kiss and back then, the doctor never wondered why. 
(chapter 27) Both men have been staring into the same mirror without realizing that the reflection was shared. They love each other. Joo Jaekyung needs to ponder on the signification of a kiss 
(chapter 13) and why doc Dan made such a request. 
(chapter 15) The kiss is more than just fun and pleasure. It is the expression of “love”. And now, you comprehend why I am expecting a huge change in the next episode.
(chapter 28) and urge Kim Dan to ask, at last, the question that remained frozen between them. In doing so, he would not only reopen the conversation but also reclaim the meaning of touch itself: not as misunderstanding or survival, but as curiosity and love.
(chapter 80) And it comes with a small but crucial instruction. In that single phrase, the MMA fighter encourages Kim Dan to discover his own power and strength without overexercising. His feet, which were once symbolically trapped in the nightly ice, now press against the water with intent during the day. For the first time, his body obeys him, not fear. His movements are neither frantic nor helpless but self-regulated, gentle and alive. That’s why the main lead becomes happy for a moment. 
(chapter 21) comes from the early loss of his mother. 
(chapter 79), if he knew that the doctor has already loved him for a long time.
(chapter 80), yet without panic. It is the opposite of his lifelong reflex to cling.
Kim Dan on Thin Ice was never just about danger or fragility — it was about transformation. The ice that once confined him to stillness has melted into water, and the fear that once froze his body has become motion. Where there was trembling, there is now flow; where there was isolation, there is connection. 
(chapter 75), the perfume 
chapter 75) that suddenly appeared on his body 
(chapter 75), for example, were left unmentioned — proof that silence still surrounds him.
(chapter 75) Why fight as though every match were a matter of life and death? Why keep repeating the same acts, long after survival was secured? 
(chapter 75) What does the jinx truly represent for him — mere superstition, a ritual of control, or something he himself has not yet dared to name? For Jaekyung himself cannot fully explain it. He confesses what he knows — that sex steadies him, that milk soothes him, that perfume sharpens him — but he does not grasp what lies beneath these habits. The origin of the jinx remains hidden, lodged somewhere between memory and trauma, where even he cannot follow. Are these rituals mere superstition, a desperate bid for control? Or are they fragments of something deeper — pieces of a story he has never fully told, even to himself?
.(chapter 75) They are the product of a long chain of humiliations, betrayals, and systemic exploitation, each layering onto the next until a young man’s raw talent was encased in a carapace of compulsions. To understand the jinx is to understand how the protagonist’s life collapsed around the word loser, and how the fighting industry transformed his private shame into public myth.
(chapter 74) Hunger, poverty, bullying, insults— each branded his body with a language of violence. Among them came his father’s words, spat like a curse: loser. 
(chapter 73) That insult crystallized everything. The young boy absorbed it as truth, so much so that every later fight would be less about victory and more about silencing that single syllable. 
(chapter 75)
(chapter 69)
(chapter 75) — a boy who fought with the desperation of someone who had nothing else. Victory after victory gave him the illusion that he had escaped his father’s shadow. As long as he was winning, he could suppress the pain, bury the insult loser, and silence the memory of that cursed night when his father died and his mother abandoned him. Triumph became his shield, proof that he was not what he had said he was.
(chapter 75) 
(chapter 75) To them, a fighter’s struggles had only one explanation: weakness. Park Namwook and the other coach dismissed his losses as nerves 
(chapter 75), as if the only measure of worth were what happened under the spotlight. They never thought to ask what kind of weight he was carrying, what kind of nights he was surviving before he entered the cage. While the other fighters were well aware of the champion’s insomnia 
(chapter 75), Park Namwook still has no idea of the champion’s struggles. This shows how disconnected he is from his “boy”.
(chapter 74) bodies to be tested, pushed, and discarded if they broke. Where Jaekyung’s defeat cracked open childhood trauma, they saw only performance failure. What he lived as suffocation and despair 
(chapter 75), they reduced to cowardice, bad luck or lack of discipline.
(chapter 75) Shadowed hands stretched over his body, pressing down, suffocating him as he tried to sleep. The man was dead, but still he choked the air from his son. It was, as if the father wanted to bring his son to the afterlife.
(chapter 75) Even before his first loss, Jaekyung fought like a cornered animal, pouring every ounce of strength into proving he could not be beaten. That’s why he rose so fast. But why? The reason is that all his opponents were reflections of his “father”. 
(chapter 75) Consequently, his matches always looked like life-and-death struggles. He wasn’t strategizing against a specific fighter; he was exorcising a ghost. That’s why he never refused a challenge. His opponent never mattered. Besides, as long as he could win, it didn’t matter. 
(chapter 75), the more the cracks showed — and the ghosts of his father and mother made every fight feel like a replay of abandonment and accusation. The five losses 
(chapter 75) were not just setbacks in his career; they were the repeated reopening of a wound that would never heal. Each one confirmed his father’s curse. Each one reinforced the sense that he was marked, that no matter how high he climbed, he would always be dragged down again.
(chapter 73) To the boy, it was a cry for pain and survival — an instinctive urge to escape despair and criticism. To the father, it was betrayal. Already emasculated by failure and drink, he was reminded of his wife’s discontent, the specter of another abandonment. He lashed out the only way he knew: 
(chapter 73), and that the man’s final judgment on him would never be undone. Love and hatred, longing and guilt fused in that moment. He loved his father despite the abuse. And yet he would forever wonder if leaving — even just threatening to leave — had killed him. Worse, because death came so suddenly, there was no time left. 
(chapter 73) The clock had stopped before forgiveness could be spoken, before the boy could say he had not meant it. From that moment on, time itself became his opponent: every match another countdown, every victory an attempt to outrun that night.
(chapter 73), unable to voice his own vulnerability. 
(chapter 66) — speaking not with fists or insults but with tears and an embrace. 
(chapter 66) His sleepwalking reacting to a simple touch 
(chapter 65), his dissociative pleas 
(chapter 66) give Jaekyung the words his father could not say. Where the father’s unconscious leaked out in aggression, Dan’s unconscious offers gentleness and honesty. Both men speak from a place deeper than reason; one chained Jaekyung to guilt, the other opens the possibility of release. In Dan’s trembling body, Jaekyung sees the tender reflection of his father’s hidden plea 
(chapter 74) With no parents, no siblings, and eventually no wife, he had nothing to fall back on and saw in the criminal world another form of “family”. The family he created became his one fragile shelter — and when that shelter cracked, there was nothing left to hold him.
(chapter 72) His violence expressed his powerlessness. And when his son shouted his desire to leave the “dump of a house,” 
(chapter 57) Violence and insult became his only idiom. “Loser” was not simply an accusation, but the displaced confession of his own defeat: I was abandoned. I failed. I have nothing.
(chapter 73) The boy’s boxing talent was a source of pride — proof of strength — but also a threat. Strength meant escape. Escape meant abandonment. The father, who had already lost his wife and his dignity, projected onto his son the terror of losing everything once again. His resentment was not born of disappointment alone but of recognition (unconsciously): you are me, and you will leave me too.
(chapter 74) His father may have been an orphan, just like his mother too. Therefore the latter was emotionally unavailable, and so he inherited not only trauma but also silence. By contrast, Dan has at least one surviving figure — flawed as she is — who keeps the family thread intact. That contrast makes Jaekyung’s bond with Dan all the more significant: it is not just romance, but an attempt to build a family line that never existed before him.
(chapter 73), while keeping Jaewoong’s own origins shrouded. Hwang had someone by his side — gentle, quiet, but present — while Jaewoong had no one, as according to me, the mother was counting on her “husband”‘s success and dream. The director’s stability, however fragile, was rooted in that maternal figure. Jaewoong had no such guide, and without it, he simply made the wrong choice.
(chapter 74), she never once spoke to her son about it, never asked what he felt. She did not grieve with him, nor allow him to grieve. Besides, the main lead’s words were ambiguous: Was the father dead or had he abandoned his son too? The fact that she never asked exposes that it didn’t matter to her. She was not interested in the truth, her only concern was herself — her new life, her fear of losing it. Where the father left him branded, the mother left him erased. 
(chapter 73). To win was to prove his father wrong, but to stand alone in victory was to prove his mother right. Success and emptiness became inseparable.
(chapter 56), seemingly fragile and dependent. But unlike her, he stays. Where the mother left, Dan endures. He only left because of the champion’s final words: 
(chapter 51) 
(chapter 75) This man’s jinx was startlingly simple: he read the Bible before every match. One book, one ritual, one anchor. To outsiders, it may have seemed quaint, even laughable, but to Jaekyung it was enviable.
(chapter 75) When he prayed, it was not only for victory, but for coherence. Win or lose, the ritual bound him to a sense of belonging that Jaekyung had never tasted.
(chapter 75) If ritual could bend fate, he would build his own. But where the Bible fighter had a single, unifying story — scripture, God, fellowship — Jaekyung had nothing to draw on. No faith to lean on, no parental blessing to inherit, no safe home to return to. Instead, he began to stitch together a mosaic of rituals, each one disguising a different childhood wound. To outsiders it looked obsessive, neurotic, almost superstitious. To him, it was survival. Each gesture was both repression and remembrance, a scar disguised as armor. And this is the paradox: the rituals made him strong enough to survive, but too broken to live. 
(chapter 75) By using another body, he cleared his head, numbed the loneliness, and convinced himself he was in control. But it was also a grim reenactment of abandonment: he could take without being left, dominate rather than risk being deserted. At the same time, he considered his sex partners as toys in order to avoid guilt. A toy can not die, it can be “thrown away”.
(chapter 75) But in truth it was a disguised memory of hunger 
(chapter 72), of nights when there was nothing to eat, of shame attached to poverty. 
(chapter 75) To drink milk was to rewrite the past: I will not go hungry again. Yet the act was also a reminder that he once had.
(chapter 75), a reminder that he had entered a machine in motion, a system that swallowed fighters whole and spat out statistics. From that point, the acceleration was merciless: by April, he was in the 272nd bout against Randy Booker 
(chapter 14); by June, the 293rd against Dominic Hill 
(chapter 40); and by July, the 298th against Baek Junmin. 
(chapter 50) 
(chapter 75), he had not merely “built” a career, he had been consumed by one. There was no time to recover from injuries, no space to process victory, no room to integrate defeat. No wonder why his shoulders were in bad shape. 
(chapter 75) Every fight blurred into the next, every opponent older, stronger, more experienced. And yet Jaekyung fought them all with the same desperate, survival-driven ferocity.
(chapter 71) and Dr. Lee 
(chapter 27) still called him an athlete — someone whose body required balance, protection, recovery. But MFC and KO-FC never did. For them, the main lead or his colleagues were addressed as 
(chapter 14) “The Emperor”, “a crazy bastard”
(chapter 40), “my boy”, 
(chapter 47) “a potential star.” Not a person, not even a professional, but branding material — a body to be consumed by audiences and discarded once spent. The absence of the word athlete marks what he lost: recognition as a human being. And guess what? 
(chapter 41) Only doc Dan at the gym saw the fighters as athletes!
(chapter 47). Thus only doctors are allowed to do them officially. But Jaekyung’s rise shifted that meaning. As “The Emperor,” he normalized tattoos for the new generation of fighters, transforming what once marked marginality into a badge of visibility. This is why even Oh Daehyun, one of his admirers and members of Team Black, now carries one: 
(chapter 8) The celebrity’s suffering literally redefined the aesthetic of the sport. His body, turned billboard, became part of the league’s branding.
(chapter 14) ripping open the scar of his father’s “loser” and his mother’s absence and silent parentification. Not long after, an article exposed his shoulder injury 
(chapter 35), reducing years of discipline to a liability on the page. Later came the suspension narrative 
(chapter 54) Even the match with Baek Junmin was twisted against him — accepted under pressure, then reframed as recklessness. To the system, his crown had been too secure, his presence too dominant. He had been champion for “too long.”
(chapter 5) the name Seo Gichan appeared here for the first time… a faceless name!
(chapter 69) The danger lay in the very identity of his next challenger. If they pitted him against a newcomer who had rocketed through the ranks as quickly as Baek Junmin once did 
(chapter 47), questioning the selection of Baek Junmin, is so crucial. It shows that the manipulation of opponents was no accident — it was systemic. Matches were not about fair combat but about narrative management: making sure the emperor’s story served the company’s balance sheet.
(chapter 51) On paper, it was a draw. In practice, it was soon reframed as a loss 
(chapter 57). By late August, Jaekyung had slipped to third place. 
(chapter 69) And strikingly, no one questioned it. Not Park Namwook, not the officials, not even Joo Jaekyung or the commentators who had once praised his streak. The silence was louder than any insult.
(chapter 75) Here, it looks like a mirror, but naturally it is a fake one. It was not earned with fists alone; it could be stripped, reassigned, reshaped at will. One tie, one whisper, one adjustment in the rankings, and the Night Emperor was dethroned without ceremony.
(chapter 75), not for intimacy but to clear his head and stave off loneliness, emptiness and his abandonment issues.
(chapter 75) must be read in this light. It is not a relapse into the system’s treadmill, nor a blind return to the pitfall laid before him. Notice that he does not say he will fight in the fall, nor does he mention the upcoming match that everyone else is waiting for. 
(chapter 71) Instead, he frames his goal with a word that changes everything: reclaim.
(chapter 73), but he lost his father and his mother abandoned him. 
“Don’t you trust me?” (chapter 54) That moment reverses the old script entirely. Where his father’s last word was condemnation, Dan’s is invitation. Where his father’s voice ended the dialogue forever, Dan opens one. Where his father made trust impossible, Dan asks for it. Besides, the latter encouraged him to reflect on himself. 
(chapter 51) The mirror is clear: the cycle can be broken, but only if he dares to answer the question that was never asked of him before. Therefore it is not surprising that the physical therapist’s question appeared in the champion’s vision: 
(chapter 61) He was acknowledging the main lead as a real physical therapist. 
(chapter 62)— and even to those closest to his body — it looks like nothing more than sex. That was all the uke from chapter 2 saw, and it was enough for him to sneer:
(chapter 2) The insult landed with devastating familiarity, not as a new wound but as an echo of his father’s curse: “loser.” Both words reduced Jaekyung to nothing — not a man, not an athlete, just a fraud kept alive by crutches.
(chapter 2) In slamming his former partner against the wall, he was not merely silencing a lover’s cruelty. He was fighting the ghost of his father, the voice that had branded him weak, cursed, unworthy. The jinx that kept him alive was being twisted into proof of his failure, and he could not bear it. 
(chapter 2)
(chapter 62), Dan recoiled. 
(chapter 62) but as a therapist he trusted. His words about wanting to return to the “usual pre-match routine” 
(chapter 62) were, in his mind, a way of saying: I need you to bring back wholeness, to help me steady myself again. But because Dan only knew fragments of the jinx, the message landed with devastating distortion. 
(chapter 41) but not the others. He had never seen how layered and fragmented Jaekyung’s survival system truly was: the shower and perfume, the milk, the tattoos, the obsessive fight schedule. Thus, when Jaekyung invoked the jinx, Dan heard only objectification: you want me for my body. However, this is not what the “wolf” meant. Thus he got surprised by such a statement. 
(chapter 62) For Jaekyung, the plea was about coherence; for Dan, it sounded like reduction.
(chapter 22) He cooks breakfast for Jaekyung, offering something warm, homemade, human — a substitute for the cold, industrial glass of milk. 
(chapter 22) or cry out of joy.
(chapter 54) throws the plate away 
(chapter 54), or sits at a vast table in silence. 
(chapter 54) But when Dan cooks, Jaekyung is surprised, even touched. For once, nourishment is not consumption but connection. The milk was always a disguised memory of deprivation; Dan’s meal becomes the antidote — food as presence. So for him, the prematch-routine was also referring to the meals prepared by his fated partner. And I feel the need to bring another aspect. Since there was no “family” in the athlete’s life, he never got the chance to discover the joy of the table. 
(chapter 22) Hence it is not surprising that he looked at his phone, while the others were eating and discussing. He never had a real conversation with a family member around the table. 
(chapter 40) Perfume was one of Jaekyung’s protective rituals — masking shame, creating an armor against the memory of bullying and ridicule. Yet Dan shows that none of this is necessary. The panel where he clings to the bedsheets after their Summer Night’s Dream together 
(chapter 45), whispering that he misses Jaekyung’s warmth, reveals that the champion’s natural scent is already enough. He never gets to see this — Jaekyung doesn’t know how deeply Dan treasures his smell.
(chapter 40) Here he turned around and placed his lover in the middle of the bed. He even let him rest. 
(chapter 2), and not the other rituals? Because to admit the rest would be to expose the origin of the jinx: the father’s insult, the mother’s abandonment, the hunger, the bullying. Sex was the only ritual that could be spoken without directly dragging the past into the room. It was the “safe” shorthand — though tragically, it became the most dangerous. Homosexuality is definitely a stigma among boxers and MMA fighters.
(chapter 68) In his own way, he was showing him that he did care! He was more than just a body… or even a physical therapist!!
(chapter 35) It is the steady mirror of Kim Dan.
(chapter 13) — helpless, cornered, often pleading. Thus the champion taught the doctor to overcome his fear and fight back: 
(chapter 26) This imbalance was no accident. It replayed Jaekyung’s own childhood roles: he became what his father had been to him (the better version naturally, for he is the mirror of truth), and forced Dan into the position he had once held himself. Through Dan, Jaekyung unconsciously re-enacted his trauma, reversing their positions as if to master what had once mastered him. That way, he was pushed to mature emotionally! That’s why he could connect with the main lead unconsciously. His trembling words in Chapter 51 
(chapter 71) He believes to know the truth, while he is ignorant. He is insecure, extreme in his behavior (drinking)
(chapter 71), but also selfish and questioning, still fragile yet capable of protest. He is struggling with his own emotions and thoughts. 
(chapter 71) How can he trust the athlete, when he doubts himself so much? From my point of view, he is on the verge of become “mature mentally” and as such “responsible”. At the same time, Jaekyung is revealed as the adult in crisis. His exhaustion 
(chapter 70)
(chapter 74) It is because thanks to the director’s confession, the “hamster” is able to see the champion as a “a kindred spirit“, an orphan and as such as the younger “boy”. 
(chapter 7) 
(chapter 69) It is not about treatment or jinx, but about presence. This hug reframes the meaning of strength. True strength is not the ability to fight endlessly, but the ability to hold and be held, to mirror” is like touching oneself! Let’s not forget that the mirror represents the reflection of a person. Respecting the physical therapist signifies respecting oneself!
(chapter 36) He can remain indifferent to their “provocations”, as he has long matured emotionally. 
(chapter 36) He can retaliate differently. With his money and power, he can prove to them, he is no loser! 
(chapter 26) They have watched his fights 
(chapter 23), memorized his moves and titles, and repeated the anecdotes told in gyms and on TV. They’ve heard how he was “saved” by sports from a darker path, and cheered for him as the “Emperor” — the handsomest fighter, the man who broke the arcade’s punching machine 
(chapter 26), the champion who stands above the rest. But if the champion’s life is already an open book, why did Mingwa wait so long to reveal his childhood and family? The answer is simple. It is because Joo Jaekyung has been called the Emperor till his fight against Baek Junmin! These public portraits — the friendly banter in the gym, the theatrical ring intros — show us the merchandise, not the man. They are the carefully polished surface presented to fans and fellow fighters alike, repeated so often that even those closest to him believe them. Yet behind this image 
(chapter 30) lies a past left unspoken, a silence so complete that his own history became an empty space others could fill as they wished. This essay brings these two “stories” together — the Emperor and the boy. And now, you may be wondering how I came to connect the champion’s trauma to his future career as an MMA fighter. The answer lies in Joo Jaekyung’s own voice. 😮
(chapter 70) To him, it looked as though Jaekyung had made the reckless choice to return to the ring so soon. That was the trap: the headline and phrasing were designed to make it appear that the decision was the fighter’s own. The opening line alone 
(chapter 69) It was as if the main lead, backed by his team, had personally approached MFC to request the match — an illusion strengthened by the opening line, “MFC’s former champion Joo Jaekyung will be returning to the ring this fall after serving his suspension.” This way, if the decision draws criticism, the CEO can retreat behind the fighter and his team, like they did in the past. 
(chapter 41) But that excuse would be a fiction: Jaekyung hasn’t even met those doctors or talked to the MFC match manager 
(chapter 67) That’s the reason why this suggestion from the CEO appeared the very next day. 
(chapter 69) 
(chapter 61), it was paired with a recommendation for rehabilitation — not an immediate return to competition. This was actually a condition for his total recovery. On the other hand, the doctor imagined or suggested that his patient wished to return to the ring so soon. No medical professional ever signed off on an autumn fight. Yet the date is already set, and the headlines frames it as a confident comeback without any medical backup. The Emperor’s name is splashed everywhere, but none of the words belong to him.
(chapter 57) with one of his close associates — a man whose face was hidden, speaking as though he were the athlete’s voice. That interview was accompanied by a familiar victory image 
(chapter 41), while the image released with the fall match announcement was the one from when he first won his champion title. 
(chapter 17) He was blamed for his popularity. The man inside the crown does not act or speak freely; his words are filtered, scripted, or replaced entirely.
(chapter 12), never mind that he hardly drinks. The gesture fits the fantasy they’ve built around him, not the reality of a man who rejects alcohol due to his addicted father, a reminder that even the tokens of admiration are shaped by the image, not the truth. So who is this so-called close associate or “Joo Jaekyung’s team” exactly that decides for him, speaks for him, and hides behind his title? Besides, why did the journalist change from “one of his close associates” to “Joo Jaekyung’s team”?
(chapter 57) The nickname, played for entertainment value, was another way of turning the champion into a caricature — a marketable, amusing persona instead of a man with a past and agency. It is quite telling that Park Namwook’s interview aired immediately after the anchor referred to Jaekyung as “Mama Joo Jaekyung Fighter.” This was not the lofty “Emperor” title repeated in gyms and ring intros — it was more a mocking nickname, a deliberate jab meant to provoke. In that moment, the Emperor was verbally pulled down from his pedestal, yet the images shown alongside the segment told a different story: carefully chosen shots of him as a champion, a visual echo of his marketable persona. The dissonance was striking.
. (chapter 54) In my opinion, the man is trying to return to the past, thinking that his “popularity” can come back, not realizing that he is being manipulated himself. On the contrary, he stepped into the role of spokesperson without hesitation, speaking as if he were Jaekyung’s voice while keeping his own face and name hidden. He only speaks, when he feels safe. He can not be responsible for the champion’s recovery. 
(Chapter 52) This framing lets him claim the prestige of leadership while leaving himself room to withdraw if things go wrong. Yosep was the one notifying MFC and reporting the incident to the police, Potato explaining his discovery to Joo Jaekyung and blaming the star. 
(Chapter 36) He should tolerate the celebrity’s moods and put up with everything. The manager didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t get affected. But what is the consequence of such a passive tolerance? An individual’s self-esteem can slowly erode, leading to a gradual loss of their sense of self. They may stop recognizing their own desires, needs, and rights, often without even realizing this is happening. This is because emotional exhaustion often develops subtly over time, rather than appearing as a sudden, dramatic event. 
(chapter 31) when punished. In this light, Park Namwook embodies the very dynamic the article warns against: a figure who benefits from another’s compliance, maintaining control not through open dialogue, but through unspoken rules and the threat of exclusion.
(chapter 73), by becoming a boxer, the champion wouldn’t make a lot of money. With this comment, he implied that boxing in South Korea had been losing popularity 10 years ago. This explicates why gradually, the members from Hwang Byungchul left the studio. And it was likely the same in the illegal fighting circuit. 
(chapter 73) The popularity of MMA in the States gave them the opportunity to revive fighting sports, a figure who could draw crowds and sponsors, making such events fashionable again.
(chapter 72) instead of “hard-working,” a man who “chose sports over a dark path.” Yet if you look closely, this celebrated “ascension” 
(chapter 72) isn’t tied to the director’s boxing studio at all — it’s linked to the arcade’s punching machine incident. 
(chapter 72), the scars of his family history, and the years of survival before the cage. This is history rewritten, his boxing past and family erased. Why? His origins could expose the ugly verity: the link between criminality and boxing (as such fighting sports). Secondly, because his real story, though moving, lacked the glamorous allure needed to market him. His real story would have revealed that to rise to the top, you need relentless work, not a miraculous moment. That version was never going to sell as well as the “genius” myth.
(chapter 46) Most of them thought that by staying close to him, they could benefit from his popularity. To conclude, for many of them proximity to the Emperor wasn’t about learning discipline or technique; it was about absorbing his fame by osmosis. Hence they complained and accepted the gifts and money so easily. 
(chapter 46) And, like any product, once it was seen as damaged, its value plummeted. The moment he “lost” his title and suffered injury (chapter 52), the dream began to unravel. 
(chapter 52) This panel captures this shift perfectly: two fighters casually dismiss him over dinner. In those words, the Emperor isn’t a mentor, a champion, or even a man — he’s a broken commodity, no longer worth the investment. The same people who once fed off his popularity are the first to abandon him when the promise of easy gain disappears.
(chapter 22) He is even disposable. He is gradually giving more rights to his “boy”, the real director of Team Black. And the moment you perceive the manager as the main lead’s voice, you can grasp the true significance of the slap at the hospital: 
(chapter 52) For the first time, the main lead had voiced his own thoughts and emotions. He had used his real “voice”, revealed his unwell-being: 
(chapter 52) To this outburst, Park Namwook slapped Jaekyung in front of others (chapter 52). 
(chapter 52) He chose silence, and later avoidance, staying away from the gym. That silence was not weakness, but choice: he would listen less and less to his hyung. 
(chapter 36) All he needed to do was to fight: 
(chapter 36)
(chapter 72) We don’t know how many times he called, but each time we see him do it, his face is injured. 
(chapter 72) The phone calls are therefore intertwined with the boxing studio, as though pain itself pushed him toward her. At ten, he picked up the receiver and let it ring only a few times before hanging up. The next time, in the dead of winter, he finally spoke, promising that if she returned, he would protect her from his father and make enough money to keep her safe. 
(chapter 55) 
(chapter 2) — a space where he could act without having to speak. In the bedroom, as in the ring, the body could carry the conversation. Here, he could dominate, control, and release tension without the risk of verbal damage. His partners became surrogate opponents: sparring substitutes in a non-lethal match. Treating them as “toys” wasn’t only objectification; it was a form of control that, in his mind, protected both sides. Toys don’t demand answers, don’t talk back, and don’t leave you cursed with regret. They remain safely outside the territory where his voice had once done harm.
(chapter 1) He embodies innocence and as such lack of experiences. Moreover, he talks, makes suggestions for the champion’s sake 
(chapter 27), spent time with him, asks questions, confronts, and refuses to be reduced to a body in the room. He breaks the rule of silence. With him, Jaekyung can no longer hide behind the physical alone; he is forced to speak, to explain, to voice desires and fears. He pushes Jaekyung to engage in ways he’s spent years avoiding. In this way, Kim Dan becomes the first real threat to the system the champion built after those two curses — and possibly the first person who could prove that words can be safe again. And now, you comprehend why Joo Jaekyung was moved by the birthday card
(chapter 62) To most, it might look like a simple gesture, but for him, it was a rare and precious thing — a voice that had taken the time to shape itself into words just for him. 
(chapter 55) After years of associating speech with either silence or harm, receiving a long-winded, carefully written message felt almost unreal. He saw the effort behind it, the deliberate choice to put thoughts and emotions into language instead of letting them fade away or turn into weapons. In that card, Kim Dan offered something neither of his parents had managed: a voice that reached him without wounding. No silence, no insult. For the champion, it wasn’t just a card — it was proof that words could be built into a gift, not a curse. The latter expressed his dreams and gratitude. Thus I deduce that the Emperor’s curse will be broken by a spell: words!
(chapter 55) The “spell” to break it is not some grand external event, but the simple, sustained act of honest communication — something that has been denied to him since childhood.
(chapter 68), a kiss, a pat, a caress or by simply holding hands
(chapter 71) He saw affection in the hug, but he still doubted the champion’s action. 
Until now, the design’s images have played a secondary role, yet the answer lies in a single scene from chapter 41. 
(chapter 41) Under the bright sunlight, Kim Dan reached out toward the leaves, his hand open and unguarded, as he silently thought of the man he loved. This gesture, so simple yet so revealing, became the unspoken confession that marked the start of a different kind of freedom—the freedom to feel. 
(chapter 53) The glass was an invisible barrier, offering the illusion of freedom while keeping him trapped in the moment of his unresolved trauma. The closer he stood to it, the further he was from true release, his gaze fixed outward to avoid looking inward. That’s why he had no eye in that scene: 
(chapter 73) reveals why that reading was correct: the penthouse window is not just a symbolic device of the present — it is the direct heir of a far older image burned into his memory. Here, as a teenager, he stands before a small barred window in the room where his father’s corpse lies. The resemblance is not visual coincidence but emotional continuity. Both windows let in light without granting escape; both present the outside world as something visible yet forever out of reach.
(chapter 71)
(chapter 70) the night can also be alive, communicative, protective. In that moment, the moon becomes more than a distant light in the sky: it is a patient witness, a calm listener in the stillness, reflecting the truth he has yet to voice. 
(chapter 70) Its soft glow contrasts with the blinding glare of the cage lights, suggesting that under the moon, there is space for gentleness, for hearing one’s own heartbeat and another’s words. Just as the moon guides travelers through darkness, it can guide him toward a night that does not suffocate him with loss, but offers orientation and connection.
(chapter 60) they were his own form of therapy. In saving someone else in the night, 
(chapter 65) he could prove to himself he was not powerless, he was valuable, capable of protecting what mattered. 
(chapter 69) He was not too late either. And the moment doc Dan discovers what the silent hero has done for him so many times, the former will realize that he has always been special to the Emperor. Moreover, the latter had never abandoned him in the end.
, (chapter 9) as if the champion’s volatility were a quirk (the actions of a spoiled child) to be managed rather than a wound to be healed. It is because he never talked to the champion or investigated his past. It was only about money and glory. The manufactured image of the erratic, temperamental fighter served Namwook well; it excused rough handling, justified bad press, and kept Joo Jaekyung dependent. Once the Emperor can name the truth of that night, the fiction collapses — and with it, Namwook’s control. He can only be judged as a liar and even a traitor, but we know that Joo Jaekyung has a big heart. He could love his father despite the abuse. Now, the missing link is Cheolmin! 
(chapter 73) In chapter 73, Joo Jaekyung is shown as a first-year high school student—meaning he was sixteen. I suspect this turning point occurred in May, since the earlier fight happened on May 16th. 
(chapter 72) Additionally, the tournament he won was the 17th boxing competition 
(chapter 73), suggesting he had likely participated from the very beginning of the event’s history. This places his debut—and symbolic birth as a fighter—at the very origin of the tournament itself.
(chapter 72) This becomes painfully clear in the call to his mother, when young Joo Jaekyung promises to become strong, 
(chapter 72) to earn a lot of money, 
(chapter 65) Unlike Kim Dan’s grandmother—who is shown gazing downward at the baby she holds, visibly burdened yet emotionally present—the champion’s mother stares straight ahead. 
(chapter 72) The use of “of course” suggests inevitability, even justification. He is siding with the mother. His explanation for her departure is the father’s behavior: his abusive attitude. 
(chapter 73) However, what remains unspoken in this sentence is that she did not just leave her husband—she left her son too. Hwang Byungchul fails to mention this because he, too, is a man who has lived alongside a woman without truly giving her an official recognition. His own mother lived in his shadow, cooking for fighters, breathing life and love into the studio, yet she remained unnamed. Like Jaekyung’s mother, she was reduced to a supportive function. The crucial difference is that Hwang’s mother lived through her son, and stayed until her death. 
(chapter 73) Under this light, it becomes comprehensible why the man would avoid to meet his wife’s gaze and why the author hid Joo Jaekyung and his mother’s gaze in the last memory from Joo Jaewoong. Her gaze was for him painful, full of rejection. Consequently, I think that when Mingwa created this image for the champion’s birthday 
, she was revealing the arrival of the mother and her traits in her son: humbleness, water, darkness, a daring gaze and uncombed! But let’s return our attention to Joo Jaewoong and his vision: 
(chapter 73), cleaning the house. He felt like a kept man, emasculated by the very woman he expected to serve him. That’s why he says this to his son: 
(chapter 73) He is clinching onto this image as the breadwinner and head of family. Thus, this sentence “You are your mother’s son, after all” becomes not a factual statement, but a projection, meant to degrade both wife and son by branding them as disloyal, ungrateful, and disobedient.
(chapter 73) He didn’t greet him either and avoided to talk to him (points of suspension). This could only infuriate Joo Jaewoong, as the latter felt as a failure and denial of being a husband and father. And now, you comprehend why I see this picture as the evidence 
It is no coincidence that the main lead has a similar vision than his own father about the mother.
(chapter 55), but she gave him the necessary push to reconnect with doc Dan. 
(chapter 55) In this scene, 
(chapter 55) we can detect similarities with the former home from the main lead: 
(chapter 72) greeting versus absence of greeting; respect versus abuse; birthday present (according to me, the t-shirt with the teddy bear was a present from the mother), alcohol, bags of trash and “departure”! Thus I came to the following deduction: the mother must have taken odd jobs too, similarly to her son and doc Dan, because she couldn’t have followed her “dreams”. having been forced to give up on any personal dreams. Her reality, like theirs, was one of survival, not self-fulfillment.
(chapter 1) . And now, compare this to the 26-year-old champion standing beside his father. His face mirrors the father’s almost exactly (jaw,nose), except for the eyes. 
(chapter 72) That contrast is crucial. The difference lies not in bone structure, but in soul. And that difference, I argue, belongs to the mother. He is his mother’s child in spirit! However, with the loss of his father, the light in his light vanished. 
(chapter 72)
(chapter 54), who used to clean the house and carry the bags of trash outside. 
(chapter 73) The place is clean, there’s barely waste on the floor, the books are still wrapped together at the entrance. But who removed the bags and mopped the floor? Naturally, the main lead. One might say that he learned it from the boxing studio and the director’s mother. Nevertheless, it dawned on me what had happened 20 years ago. The mother had stopped cleaning the place, she no longer cooked either… she gathered the waste in the bags and left them there, as if she wanted her husband to bring them outside. As you can see, I see the dumpster as her way of expressing her unwell-being (depression, resignation) and her protest against Joo Jaewoong. She felt so burdened that at the end, she ran away. 
(chapter 73) However, like mentioned above, their toxic relationship played a role. Another is money. Observe how the the 10 years old boy added right after: 
(chapter 72) She didn’t want to support such a behavior. It was like filling a bottomless jar. Since the man seems not to have listened to her, the only thing she could do was passivity and silence. Yet, in Jaewoong’s memory 
(chapter 73) became his curse, as his dream had become a reality. 
(chapter 7) and possessiveness. 
(chapter 34) I had already portrayed the ghost as a person suffering from narcissistic personality disorder, and since the ghost shares common traits with the father, I am assuming that the father is the ghost. Jaewoong’s narcissism was not simply paternal in my opinion. 
(chapter 31) He didn’t support him to become independent professionally. That’s why I feel like the insecure boxer must have acted the same way, not allowing his wife to become successful in the end. 
(chapter 42) the jealous and regretful ex-lover told him otherwise. How did the father describe his son? 
(chapter 33) This chapter stands not only under the sign of jealousy, but also of motherhood due to the number 6. If this theory is correct, then it signifies that he kept his promise. He gave her a place, but he didn’t want to return to her side for two reasons: her abandonment and his guilt concerning the death of his father. As for the mother, I would say… out of guilt and shame due to her “pride”. She knows that she did hurt her son. Naturally, I could be wrong… but I hope if she is alive so that the champion can talk with his “mother”. This will help him to move on. Breaking the silence between them would put an end to his self-loathing and misery
(chapter 73), gradually fell into decline after the death of his mother. She had been its soul, offering invisible support, care, and emotional warmth to the fighters. 
(chapter 72) onto Shin Okja 
(chapter 61) due to her similarities in age, gender, gestures and words. However, he failed to detect her flaws, as he trusts seniors too much. I guess, it is related to Jaewoong’s death. Nevertheless, it becomes clear that doc Dan had become the soul of the gym: 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 26), to play, even to feel embarrassment—emotions far removed from the sterile discipline of professional sport. Through Doc Dan, the athlete briefly recovered his lost passion. Not just for boxing, but for being human.
(chapter 47) and denial for strength 
(chapter 61), Park Namwook 
(chapter 53) all operate within survival mechanisms shaped by trauma, guilt, and fear. They choose the illusion of control or calm over genuine healing. But as the story unfolds, these strategies begin to unravel. Each character must confront the truth behind their emotional habits, learning that happiness isn’t the absence of pain—it’s the result of confronting it with clarity and purpose. 
(chapter 54), Joo Jaekyung is cornered by a faceless, overpowering ghost. He is unable to fight or flee; only obedience and silence remain. 
(chapter 14) But ironically, he became exactly what the abuser desired: a powerful, obedient puppet. His fame, discipline, and aggression were not signs of freedom, but evidences of emotional and mental captivity. That’s why the past from the champion is surrounded by darkness and mystery.
(chapter 34) 
(chapter 1) Thus for the first time, Jaekyung had to develop a new strategy in order to meet him again: one that doesn’t rely on intimidation, but on communication. The problem is that since he saw the physical therapist running away after their first session 
(chapter 1), he knew that he needed to lure him with something: money 
(chapter 1). Under this new light, my avid readers can grasp why the athlete played a trick on the phone, though we have to envision that here the celebrity’s thoughts were strongly influenced by his bias and prejudices. He imagined that Doc Dan had made a move on him.
(chapter 5) That retreat doesn’t mean failure—it can be an act of self-preservation. However, the champion experienced that he needed to speak with doc Dan in order to keep him by his side. This lesson became a turning point. Jaekyung started to speak more. 
(chapter 18) Therefore it is no coincidence that in episode 18, right after the celebrity spoke, Kim Dan’s reply was strongly intertwined with flight: 
(chapter 18) The denial of kindness from the champion made the doctor uncomfortable, the latter felt the need to leave the penthouse as soon as possible. The lesson for the star was to realize that words are powerful and can affect people. But Joo Jaekyung didn’t grasp it, as he chose to use sex to „submit“ his fated partner. 
(Chapter 18) Nevertheless, as time passes on, the wolf asks more and more questions. He reacts to emotional discomfort not only with physicality but with hesitation, introspection. He is no longer reacting as the ghost once taught him; he is arguing and as such adapting, growing. Thus we could say, he is less passive.
(chapter 3) or table, in showers 
(chapter 7), against doors, or walls 
(chapter 34). On the surface, it may seem like a gesture of dominance or desire, but symbolically, it reflects silencing.
(chapter 51) They stand in the middle of the room—an open space—symbolizing emotional emancipation. When Dan questions the celebrity 
(chapter 69) That silence could easily be mistaken for submission, for the same old performance of the compliant athlete. 
(chapter 69) But that would be a misreading. His silence is no longer a symptom of fear or control. It is a deliberate withholding—a sign that he no longer plays by their emotional rules. He is starting distancing himself from MFC, Park Namwook and the fight-centered identity they crafted for him.
(chapter 69) After all, to those still invested in dominance hierarchies, leaving the capital after a public defeat seems like the behavior of someone who’s been defeated mentally as well. But the truth is the opposite. This “retreat” is actually an act of autonomy. For the first time, Jaekyung is giving himself space—not to run, but to reflect. 
(chapter 69) He is no longer blindly performing the role of the fighter, nor desperately trying to maintain control over the narrative. 
(chapter 69) with “no audience” (he ignores people), no pressure, no script. And in that openness, he lets go—not just physically, but psychologically. 
(chapter 7) and flight 
(chapter 36), or MFC’s decisions. 
(chapter 25: here the protagonist was replacing Yosep and Park Namwook), hires professionals to manage damage 
(chapter 47), and hides behind administrative actions. 
(chapter 66) But he never takes full responsibility. This blame-displacement strategy works—until the champion flees to the West Coast. 
(chapter 66) that cornered the manager. 
(chapter 66) As long as the champion was nearby, Park Namwook could project blame onto him, framing him as unstable, disobedient, or temperamental. But once „his boy“ vanished from Seoul, the hyung was left exposed. Striking is that he is not seen watching over the training of the remaining members. 
(chapter 60) 
(chapter 60), a sign that he is neglecting the other members. The absence of his star fighter removed his most convenient scapegoat, forcing him to face the consequences of his own mismanagement—though he is not yet ready to truly question it and change his mindset, denial, and dependency. This was not just a geographical disappearance—it was a strategic psychological rupture, meant to destabilize Park’s illusion of authority.
(chapter 47) Finally, he can testify not only as a fighter, but as a representative of the institution they tried to exploit. That elevates his voice: from a disposable athlete to a legal opponent with organizational standing.
(chapter 57) Secondly, the vanishing of his parents were also swept under the carpet. That’s how he internalized powerlessness. Fleeing 
(chapter 1), deflecting, and disappearing became natural. With the grandmother, with doctors 
(chapter 1), with institutions—he obeyed. He accepted his fate as a fatality. But with Jaekyung, a new pattern emerged. Slowly, he began to resist: he set boundaries, raised his voice, argued with his boss, even used physical gestures to assert himself. 
(chapter 7) For a moment, he was fighting.
(chapter 67) Moreover, in contrast to Season 1, Kim Dan is no longer the invisible caregiver or obedient grandson. Thanks to Joo Jaekyung’s presence—disruptive and painful as it was—he began to form an independent identity
(chapter 57), one no longer shaped entirely by duty or guilt. The grandmother, however, is blind to this change. She continues to speak to him as if he’s the same self-sacrificing boy 
(chapter 57) —it is a rejection of the belief that he exists only to serve. In Season 2, Dan says “no” repeatedly:
(chapter 60) 
(chapter 67)
(chapter 58) 
(chapter 57)
(chapter 65) She uses his past flaws to outline his immaturity and need of guidance. However, she is not taking into consideration the transformation in the doctor due to the recent incidents (switched spray). He is no longer the same than he was 6 months ago or 2 years old. He changed thanks to the athlete and because of unfortunate events (sexual harassment from the hospital director, switched spray). But the halmoni has no idea about such incidents. 
(chapter 53) Unlike Park Namwook who uses blame and delegation in professional settings, she applies emotional avoidance in private and familial spaces. Much like the manager, she outsources responsibility, asking others to step in 
(chapter 65) Her silence is not protective—it is evasive.
(chapter 5) Her illness becomes a metaphor for her mindset. She relies on external systems: her grandson 
(chapter 7), medication, comfort 
(chapter 21), and other people (nurse, Joo Jaekyung) —to maintain her emotional balance. But as doc Dan himself once observed, she is ultimately on her own in her battle. No system can fight it for her.
(chapter 7) His grandmother was not truly abandoned; she simply equated his physical absence with neglect, ignoring the emotional and financial burden he already carried. Like Park Namwook, she prefers others to carry the discomfort while maintaining a façade of suffering and sacrifice. 
(chapter 5) Hence he made sure to shield her from any pain. 
(chapter 65), protected, comforted. Surrounded by nurses, medication, and routine, she finds temporary peace in an environment that simulates safety. The hospice does not cure her illness, but it cushions it. This illusion allows her to smile again, to relax—but only up to a point. Kim Dan’s gradual deterioration 
(chapter 57) —his visible exhaustion, disconnection, and quiet suffering—becomes a thorn in her eye, a reminder that her peace is not whole. As long as he suffers, she cannot entirely escape the shadow of her own regrets. Sending him away to Seoul represents a new of flight. Out of sight means out of mind. That way the grandmother wouldn‘t have to worry about doc Dan, as he has been entrusted to the athlete. 
(chapter 163) and supported by the article on confirmation bias, human survival was deeply dependent on mental shortcuts. Biases were not flaws, but adaptive tools — heuristics that helped our ancestors make quick decisions under threat. Faced with a potential predator, they could not afford the luxury of curiosity or debate. Run first, think later. 
(chapter 163) In this sense, biases were effective precisely because they increased the chance of survival.
(chapter 41) he recommends the opposite at the restaurant because the idea comes from the CEO! 
(chapter 65) It was her decision to settle down at the hospice. 
(chapter 67) His survival bias told him: “Don’t trust a man who once treated you violently.” or “Doctors are ignorant, they don’t know me“. It was easier to discredit the source than to weigh the merit of the message. Likewise, in Season 1, the champion dismissed doc Dan’s medical opinions 
(chapter 45) His double standard is not conscious hypocrisy — it’s a form of selective laziness. He does not challenge his beliefs because doing so would unravel the identity he’s built as a competent, authoritative manager.
(chapter 65) or a support network. It is not her fault, if she never met doc Dan’s friends in the past while hiding the fact that he had been bullied by his peers. Her request for him to return to Seoul, a place he has no roots, only furthers his habit of isolation. Similarly, when she asked Jaekyung to bring him to Seoul and have him diagnosed, she implicitly discouraged any shared decision-making. Like Park Namwook, she bypassed dialogue in favor of directive control, reinforcing the habit of emotional withdrawal.
(chapter 67) That shift marks a turning point from survival to conscious thought. The mind cannot reflect when it believes it is under attack. The tragedy is not that these characters are irrational — it’s that they were taught fear before they were taught trust. Thus I come to the following conclusion. As soon as both are curious about each other 
(chapter 69), they are now free from their bias and prejudices. 
(chapter 69) They will be able to communicate which will help them to discover the truth about MFC. Yes, their ability to ponder will lead them to unmask the villains and defeat their opponents. By fighting for justice, both will discover true peace of mind. This hardship at the end of season 1 was necessary to reset their heart and mind: what is the true meaning of life? Money? Work? Duty? Sacrifice?… The answer is happiness which is strongly intertwined with love and selflessness. 
(chapter 69). For the first time in this story, we as readers were allowed to hear Joo Jaekyung’s heart 
— not in battle, not in passion, not in rage — but in that suspended instant when he imagined Kim Dan missing, possibly forever. Since the author linked the BADUM with doc Dan 
(chapter 69) 
(chapter 69), she created the illusion that the physical therapist was embodying the MMA fighter’s heart. This scene resonated with me long after I closed the chapter.
(chapter 69) Suddenly, the pieces clicked: the heartbeat in Jinx is not just a narrative sound effect. 
(chapter 14)— yet no heartbeat is heard. One might think, the absence of the heart racing implies the lack of fear. His emotions are real, but they do not connect him to life or to others. Why?
(chapter 14) — GUOOO, metal dented, yet no pain. Yet, Jinx-philes can see Badum Badum in that picture. Nevertheless it is connected to the physical therapist’s heart: he is scared of the athlete’s strength. On the surface, the champion’s gesture appears reckless — an act of a man who does not care for his body. But this is not pure “fearlessness.” In truth, the celebrity’s anger is masking deeper fear and suffering.
(chapter 44) BADUM BADUM from Kim Dan’s heart as Jaekyung makes a move on him. His blushing face, wide eyes, and parted lips all signal that this is not fear — it is love, excitement, and emerging attachment. 
(chapter 44) and tried new things. He gave his lover pecks on his cheeks and ear 
(chapter 44). He chose intimacy, and chose to act from his own emotions. This gave him strength and courage. But by morning, he withdrew, the moment he met resistance and opposition. 
(chapter 34), we see the actor’s confidence gradually vanishing. His mask begins to crack. In that moment, he realizes that in the VIP spa his celebrity status offers no protection. No manager, no Park Namwook, no audience is present. He is utterly exposed to the raw force of the champion’s anger and fist — and the physical threat is real.
(chapter 34) — a clear sign of excitement, not fear. And still, his heart remains silent. This raises the question. Why was the actor not afraid of the MMA fighter? Because even if the words echo the previous threat, the perceived danger has changed. With doc Dan standing between them 
(chapter 34), the actor subconsciously knows: “He will not attack me here.” The champion made it clear that the physical therapist shouldn’t detect the actor’s presence. Doc Dan acts as an emotional shield, preventing true panic. The body no longer signals mortal danger — and so, no BADUM sounds.
(chapter 43) Here, the doctor feared the celebrity’s rejection. This scene was actually announcing that doc Dan was already in love with the “wolf”. 
(chapter 21) — a sound of comfort and life. But it was a distant memory, not part of his adult world.
(chapter 21) — having a nightmare. It is only when the grandmother returned to the bed and began to sing that his body calmed. 
(chapter 21)
(chapter 21) — one that later echoes in his adult struggles with attachment and loss.
(chapter 58) “I am happy and at ease, but… why does my heart feel so heavy?” — it is as if the external music has replaced his internal rhythm. The joyous sound outside contrasts painfully with his own muted emotions. The music underscores his emotional disconnection and the inner weight he carries.
(chapter 65) finds his way back to the man he cares for.
(chapter 65) is more than noise. It’s a resonant signal — not unlike the heartbeat. When she barks, it alerts Jaekyung to Dan’s trance. 
(Chapter 65) Moreover, the dog is capable of expressing her „worries and pain“. And for the first time, the champion follows a sound not of the crowd, not of a bell, but of life calling to life. 
(Chapter 65) Her bark anchors him, just as Dan once did. And it marks the moment Jaekyung becomes emotionally receptive not only to Dan, but to care itself — puppies, vulnerability, connection. In other words, her presence foreshadows Jaekyung’s emotional readiness to care for others beyond the ring. Having rediscovered and embraced his own vulnerability, his heart is gradually open to softness — to animals, to dependency, to affection.
(chapter 58) During the happy party with the actor and Potato, Dan remembers his past lover — and we see the champion’s image under a black-and-white veil. It was, as if the sun was vanishing from his life. In that moment, Dan decided to detach himself from Jaekyung, to forget him. The champion is emotionally “dead” — unreachable, lost to him.
(chapter 59), the reality is that work has long lost its meaning. He has no goal in his life in the end. The emotional gravity of his loss regarding Jaekyung is palpable, though the physical therapist is not realizing it. Jinx-philes should keep in their mind that in season 1, the protagonist used his grandmother as a shield to justify his transactional relationship with the celebrity — and here, perhaps again, she becomes a cover for deeper pain.
(chapter 69) 
(chapter 49) the fighter’s vulnerability and punished his needs, 
(chapter 44) What were those buttons? His heart. His breath. His body’s fear that Dan might vanish.
(chapter 45), his heart raced. But he mistook this for irritation 
(chapter 45) — not attachment. That is why he threatened to hire another doctor the next morning: he feared dependency and as such vulnerability. 
(chapter 45)
(chapter 55) In his mind, people leave — they live elsewhere — life goes on. He never imagined irretrievable loss.
(chapter 67), Jaekyung could only remain silent. 
(chapter 67) He could not yet admit his worries, his vulnerabilities — not even to himself. To confess would be to risk blackmail, to risk being seen again as that helpless child. 
(chapter 65)
(chapter 32) Yet upon closer inspection, certain oddities stood out to me. 
(chapter 43) In that scene, Kim Dan poured soju into his water cup to pace himself during a drinking session. 
(chapter 43) Joo Jaekyung, unaware, mistakes it for his own and angrily reacts upon drinking it. This moment shows how closely water glasses are associated with Korean dining culture—even in casual or alcohol-heavy settings. Hence during a meal, the characters always have 
(chapter 32) two glasses on the table. In South Korea, it is customary for restaurants to provide a glass of water to every diner, regardless of the meal’s formality or complexity. This small gesture reflects hospitality, attentiveness, and the expectation of proper nourishment. The absence of water glasses, therefore, subtly communicates indifference or even disrespect—signaling that the recipient is not truly welcome to enjoy a full meal or rest. When applied to the “dessert meeting,” this detail becomes all the more striking: a cultural standard is ignored, revealing the performative nature of the gesture. Their absence at the “dessert meeting” feels deliberate, a symbol of superficiality and arrogance. 
(chapter 43) The reason for his mistake was that they had only placed a spoon and sticks.😮 He had no glass for himself. It was, as if they had forgotten him. In other words, he was not supposed to eat and drink at his own birthday party!! 😂 
(chapter 9) It reflects a pattern: the champion is present but not included in the communal or emotional aspects of the gathering. His spoon and chopsticks function like a prop, much like the untouched knives and forks at the dessert meeting. 
(chapter 69) 
(chapter 48), the meeting between Choi Gilseok and Kim Dan. The former invited him for coffee. 
(chapted 48) At first, the gesture seemed generous—he offers a home, a car, 
(chapter 48) and the promise to help doc Dan to get a new treatment for the grandmother. 
(chapter 48) But this so-called kindness is conditional: in exchange, Kim Dan must betray Joo Jaekyung. Striking is that director Choi only ordered coffee. But a coffee without a dessert is no real break, but a stimulant—fuel for continued work. In both this meeting and the previous one with Choi Gilseok, the core remains the same: “work”, stinginess and greed wrapped in the guise of generosity. Every sweet drink or dessert lies a hidden price. This comparison highlights that the current meeting is not for the athlete’s sake—it is meant to serve Park Namwook and the CEO, who share different but aligned goals.
(chapter 66) linked to fire, summer (hence the reference to the trip in the States), passion, performance, and vitality—ironically twisted here into cold professionalism and superficial seduction. Her position contrasts with her symbolic warmth, highlighting the emptiness of her care. This explains why she is portrayed eyeless. She sold her “soul” to money and as such to the “devil”.
(chapter 69) wearing black, aligns with the North (흑, Heuk), associated with the color black, winter, water, authority, secrecy, and hidden control. It was, as if he was representing the missing glass of water. His position as the initiator of the meeting and his location near the window reinforce his dominance and detachment.
(chapter 37) Now, Joo Jaekyung mirrors this casual dark attire 
(chapter 69) —a signal of inner turmoil and his transition from his former life. Blue stands for loyalty, thought, and calm, while black alludes to his troubled past. He is evolving but not yet free.
(chapter 69) the strawberry fraisier (chosen by the woman) stands for surface sweetness and seduction; the layered chocolate cake (perhaps a feuilleté) represents indulgence and opulence. Joo Jaekyung alone chose a square Black Forest cake—a form traditionally associated with structure, truth, and boundaries. Because the cake contains kirschwasser, subtly referencing the athlete’s brief brush with alcohol, it becomes clear that Park Namwook was not the one behind this order. Imagine this: under his very own eyes, the champion is encouraged to taste a strong alcohol. In my opinion, they must know that the star has been drinking. Yet, it was through Kim Dan’s presence that he stopped drinking, making this dessert an unconscious mirror of both his struggle and strength. Meanwhile, Park Namwook, ever the follower, selects the same dessert as the CEO and the same drink as the woman, revealing his pretense and pastiche once more. Since the manager has always bought junk food (chicken
– chapter 26, hamburgers, ramen 
– episode 37), it becomes clear that the hyung simply has no idea about Western food in general and in particular expensive French or German dishes. That’s why he didn’t ask about the dish or questioned the champion if he should eat the deadly sweet cake. 
(chapter 22)
(chapter 48), their meeting was not supposed to be secretive. On the other hand, because the scene was photographed 
(chapter 48), it created the illusion of “betrayal” as it looked like a secret meeting”. In episode 69, the meeting is hidden from the public. In contrast to the earlier public appearance alongside Baek Junmin for the cameras
(chapter 69) This framing is deceptive: far from being a gesture of goodwill, it reveals the urgency and opportunism driving the meeting. However, this gesture is carefully staged: the CEO and the woman in red are the ones who selected the time and location of the encounter, placing the athlete in a reactive position where he must adjust his schedule to their convenience. It reinforces the illusion of privilege while concealing a dynamic of control. The meeting is designed to appear personalized, but it reflects MFC’s ethos that ‘time is money’—a business-centered logic that prioritizes efficiency over empathy. The CEO’s urgency to schedule a match, despite Jaekyung’s unclear health status, further exposes the commodification of the athlete. Notably, the proposed match is not even a title bout. 
(chapter 69), hence the “future match” is no longer a secret. 
(chapter 69) By stating that the criminal belonged to a Korean gang in the States, she implied that this man had no direct connection in South Korea. In addition, with this statement, she claims that he is still in the States and the champion is safe. However, if the “fake manager” had been living in the States for a long time, he wouldn’t have spoken in Korean automatically. 
(chapter 37) In other words, she is trying to place the mastermind in South Korea. 
(chapter 69) This means that she is attempting to erase the involvement of MFC in the scheme. That’s why they are now offering an apology, which is naturally fake: 
(chapter 42), it dawned on me that MFC is actually treating the Emperor like a “cash cow”, they imagine that they can keep milking him. I could say, this encounter is exposing the reality to the athlete: Joo Jaekyung is treated like any other fighter. Hence there is no longer mention of Baek Junmin in the news. On the other hand, they have to vouch for Baek Junmin’s integrity 
(chapter 69) So Joo JAekyung is more than a fighter and the apology (interrupted by the manager) is the evidence for this. Under this new light, Jinx-philes can understand Park Namwook’s interruption and embarassement. Not only he doesn‘t want to be reminded of his past mistakes (passivity, failure of his job, the slap), but also this apology serves as a mirror and reminder that he is not the true owner of the gym. 
(chapter 69) He is his unseen savior. Thanks to Kim Dan, the star remained silent and calm giving the impression that he had fallen for MFC’s trick. 
(chapter 40) This echoes Kim Dan’s confusion in Chapter 40 when interrogated in English. It also conveniently hides their ties to local authorities—acting as foreigners with no responsibility or rootedness in Korea. But this is what director Choi Gilseok confessed to the angel: 
(chapter 48) The business is rooted in the USA. 
(chapter 40), effectively opening the metaphorical door to truth and protection. In this meeting, however, Park Namwook serves to contain and silence, not to defend. His placement underscores his complicity and fear—not just of the CEO or MFC, but of confronting the consequences of his own failures. But the manager is on his way for a rude awakening, he will be taught a lesson: don’t judge a book by its cover. The athlete won’t be the depressed, anxious, submissive and passive “boy” any longer. Moreover, he listened carefully to the chief of security: 
(chapter 69) he leaves during the day and arrives by night. 
(chapter 69) This spatial detachment echoes his emotional separation from MFC and its toxic grip. Distance, both literal and figurative, is now his strength. The fact that he chose to return to the little town outlines that he is now considering that place as his “home” and not the penthouse. He is not realizing that his true home is doc Dan. 
(chapter 32) During Kim Dan’s lunch with Choi Heesung, the floor beneath their round table shows a twelve-petal flower motif—evocative of the legendary Knights of the Round Table, who were said to sit twelve strong. That earlier scene featured Heesung testing Dan, much like the fake round table later hosts a veiled test for Joo Jaekyung. The repetition of round tables masks exclusion and betrayal. These early “false” tables pave the way for a true table—one that Jaekyung might one day forge with fighters like Heesung, Potato, Oh Daehyun, and others, where loyalty and respect, not manipulation, define the bond.
(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 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), 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 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 56) His childhood and early adult experiences, marked by financial hardship, emotional neglect, abandonment, betrayal and powerlessness, have conditioned him to associate attachment with suffering. Because of this, he withdraws from relationships 
(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 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 43) Someone needs to remind the athlete of his own “statement”. Simultaneously, since the doctor never got curious about the fighter’s past and family, his presence could only be seen as a bandage covering a rotten body. In order to heal completely, he needs to expose his traumatic past and vulnerabilities. 
(chapter 56), but about something deeper. Here he felt the need to see his beloved “companion” again. 
(chapter 62) This means that he is now treasuring his own body. No wonder why he smiled. 
(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: 
The doctor is treating the star 
(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 59), hence he felt terrible sleeping alone. Secondly, he does not attribute worth to his own physical being beyond its utility for others. This explains why he has consistently neglected himself—avoiding food, disregarding his own injuries, and refusing to seek medical help when necessary.
(chapter 60) It underscores the reality that without his body, he cannot work. In this way, his physical deterioration forces him to confront an undeniable truth: 
(chapter 43), they will replace him with a new ‘doll.’ This exploitation shaped his relationship with his own body—one that prioritized its use over its care.
(chapter 26) and 62 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 62), Kim Dan’s smile (genuine versus fake) and the characters’ shifting roles in confrontation and protection. The numerical structure of this episode—where Joo Jaekyung (2) represents dominance 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 62) It was, as if he had no real talent. But let’s return our attention to the safety gears. The latter underline the high sense of responsibility of the champion, which readers could detect in episode 62. With the red accessories, Joo Jaekyung was showing his respect to the doctor as a man. In that scene, Kim Dan could choose his destiny. It is clear that “the hamster” has long forgotten this happy day 
(chapter 16) and his minions. At the beginning of the fight, the doctor was not fighting for himself but for someone else, reinforcing his deep-seated belief that his worth was tied to service and sacrifice. However, during the match of the century, there was a short change. Kim Dan was reminded of his own past and fears. Thus, I deduce that in episode 62, it is Joo Jaekyung who must face his own greatest challenge—not a physical opponent, but the emotional vulnerability that comes with loss and uncertainty. Though he helped others, his generosity remained unnoticed by Kim Dan. Hence the latter was still unwilling to return to Seoul. 
(chapter 62) On the surface, it looks like Joo Jaekyung lost. 
(chapter 26), was happy to demonstrate his talents and kept smiling all the time: 
(chapter 25) Kim Dan was interested to know more about this sport for the protagonist’s sake, whereas Potato was jealous of Kim Dan’s closeness to the star. How did the celebrity react, when he heard the doctor’s desire to learn fighting moves? He was totally pleased, hence he lowered himself smiling 
(chapter 25). Notice that he employed the word “happy” here. This shows that the athlete liked to be a teacher and mentor to a novice. 
(chapter 26), reinforcing his belief that his worth lies in service, and he requests an opportunity for someone else. The physical challenge that followed, in which the champion invited him into the ring, was meant to teach Kim Dan to overcome fear, though the original idea was to learn jujitsu moves for the champion’s sake. As you can see, there was a switch in the intentions for the “lesson”. This moment also highlights Joo Jaekyung’s approach to the body—power, physicality, and dominance, which will later be subverted in episode 62 when emotional resilience becomes the true test of strength. 
(chapter 26) Though the doctor was initially immobile and passive, the experience became a significant lesson: fear was something that could be faced and overcome. From that moment on, he became more proactive 
(chapter 26) This is a moment of physical initiation for Kim Dan, teaching him resilience. Nonetheless, he was still fighting for someone else, still locked in his pattern of self-neglect.
(chapter 62) This shift highlights a deeper irony: while Joo Jaekyung has always prided himself on his physical strength, he is now being tested in a way that cannot be resolved with fists.
(chapter 34), wealth 
(chapter 55), not for its attractiveness or desirability. His reputation in bed has been poor; 
(chapter 29) On the other hand, this suggestion challenges Joo Jaekyung’s previous experiences, forcing him to realize that he has never had to woo or seduce anyone before. This was the only time, where Jinx-philes could see him using his sex-appeal- 
(chapter 34) He got confident, because he had played a trick on his room mate. His physicality has always been his defining trait, but for the first time, he is being confronted with the question: does he have more to offer beyond brute strength and money? If he wants to prove his worth, he must do more than rely on his body—he must reveal his true self.
(chapter 62) 
(chapter 61) Why does he want him to return to Seoul? Is he really looking for a physical therapist or something else? It is clear that he is longing for companionship.
(chapter 26), which represents the MMA fighter’s world, the wolf is now the one penetrating Kim Dan’s world: the treatment table! 
(chapter 62) 
(chapter 62) The latter was brought to the hostel. I know, here I am more speculating about the next episode. However, keep in mind that the hamster brought up the past to his destined partner. 
(chapter 1) The blue treatment table is the witness and proof that the champion never saw Kim Dan as a sex doll. So far, they never had sex on it, a sign that he respected not only Kim Dan as PT, but also the profession as such 
(chapter 27) Here, the champion suggested to have sex at home, and not on the table. On the other hand, Jinx-philes will certainly recall this scene where the doctor begged on his knees for money: 
(chapter 11) That’s how I discovered a strong connection between this item and sexuality. First, the one fantasying about the champion’s body on the treatment table had been Kim Dan 
(chapter 1). 
(chapter 1) The massage must have felt like caresses to Joo Jaekyung. So when the main lead made this mistake 
(chapter 1) -thus he asked for a treatment. He was about to drop the man.
(chapter 1) However, contrary to their first encounter, the champion would be talking to his neighbor. While the doctor is thinking, he will relive his first night in the penthouse, the other might reproduce his first treatment, though it should be certainly combined with the intercourse on the couch: . 
(chapter 29) 
(chapter 57) He should have sent her to the hospital and ensure that she received treatment. Notably, after the sea incident, Joo Jaekyung took Kim Dan to the hospital, but the latter rejected the champion’s advice and help. 
(chapter 57) is not just a symptom of overwork and lack of sleep—it symbolizes the deep imbalance in his life. His world consists only of work 
(chapter 62), without fun, rest, or emotional fulfillment. He has no hobby, no personal joy, and no real human connections. He is suffering from depression. Interestingly, the sense of balance is directly tied to the ear, which aligns with his emotional “deafness”—his lack of true contact with others. 
(chapter 61) His mind and heart are no longer listening; he is trapped in his own darkness. His dizziness and fainting spells mirror this imbalance, making his physical weakness a reflection of his emotional detachment.
(chapter 54) and drinking habits. 
(chapter 44), he caressed his cheeks 
(chapter 44) and kissed his ear 
(chapter 44) —a moment that could be seen as an attempt to restore balance, to bring warmth to the parts of Joo Jaekyung that had been ignored emotionally. However, during that night, Joo Jaekyung was drunk, further disconnecting himself from reality.
(chapter 54) His headaches intensified, and he isolated himself, mirroring Kim Dan’s earlier state of detachment. His drinking hadn’t just become a habit—it was mourning, a sign of his internal loss. It was, as if deep down he wanted to forget this intoxicating feeling of happiness from that night in the penthouse. The departure of Kim Dan caused both of them to lose their already fragile balance, reinforcing the idea that their dynamic, as unhealthy as it had been, was stabilizing them in ways they never acknowledged.
(chapter 56) It was, as if the champion no longer needed to see his former room mate. Note that he even waited for the evening before approaching doc Dan again. 
(chapter 60), he immediately went to the town. This contradiction reveals that mere visual presence was never sufficient—what he truly longed for was something deeper. And as soon as he saw him, he felt much better, 
(chapter 61) hence he could remove his splint. That’s how powerful drug Kim Dan is. 😉
(chapter 61) While undergoing treatment, he saw Kim Dan every day, yet he remained unsatisfied due to the silent treatment. It was not enough to simply observe him; what Joo Jaekyung truly craved was conversation, interaction, and recognition. This explains his decision to move into the town, settling near Kim Dan as his neighbor. 
(chapter 61) It also sheds light on why, during their latest encounter, he chose to turn his back on Kim Dan—he no longer needed to ‘see his face,’ he wanted acknowledgment and his return to the penthouse. He has not grasped it yet, but he already views the protagonist as his family and home. 
(chapter 46) He is full of prejudices and not willing to listen to his boss. Therefore Joo Jaekyung doesn’t know that in order to become close, conversations must never be one-sided and have to be free from prejudices and assumptions. Joo Jaekyung needs to listen and show an interest in his partner. And now, observe the communication between the two main leads in the room. 
(chapter 62) He asked a question, while the other did not! He just made assumptions from his part, hence he suggested “separate ways”. It was naturally his way of being considerate. That’s why I have the feeling that two words could move Kim Dan’s heart: “HOME” and “HYUNG”. If he calls him that way, the doctor is now recognized as a family member, even as a senior. Hence he needs to be treated with respect.
(chapter 62) he had previously ignored—he is undeniably attracted to Kim Dan’s body, particularly his nipples, which have repeatedly 
(chapter 27) triggered strong reactions in him. 
(chapter 29) That’s the moment he expressed his interest in the doctor’s nipples for the first time. This even became a habit: 
(chapter 44). And what did the doctor whisper during that magical night? 
(chapter 44) He wants to relive that night
(chapter 44), though in his mind, he desires to have a bad experience so that he can erase him from his mind. Finally, what do the nipples symbolize? Motherhood and nurturing. 
(chapter 57) 
(chapter 26) Moreover, it was thanks to a trick that Kim Dan won: 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 26) He felt superior and strong, whereas his rival was weak. Moreover, he imagined that Kim Dan would ask for money for the bet. 
(chapter 26) That’s why I believe that in the next episode, the roles should be switched. Kim Dan always saw himself morally superior and caring to the star, but in truth, his care was rather superficial, for he also showed no interest in the champion’s past and family. Thus I come to the following deduction that episode 62 suggests that arguing is not about losing or winning, but about listening. The champion has unknowingly become a caretaker, not only to the people of the town but, potentially, to Kim Dan himself. The question remains whether he will recognize that Kim Dan’s provocation is not just another fight lost (cutting off ties) —it is a seductive challenge to redefine his understanding of worth and their relationship. What are they to each other? A client and a prostitute? A fighter and a doctor? Or simply two men who are longing for the same: belonging and love. Nevertheless, due to their past, they are unable to detect the true source of their misery: their lack of reflection, own bias and anxieties.
(chapter 57). Similarly, when Joo Jaekyung faced his opponent Randy Booker, he was also verbally harassed 
(chapter 49) the surface shows two athletes seemingly engaged in a normal, even friendly interaction – they are shaking hands -, while the panels reveal a darker undercurrent of verbal harassment and manipulation. 
(Chapter 49) 
(chapter 61), while Joo Jaekyung represses his emotions and thoughts through “physical activities”. 
(chapter 55) This essay will explore how their experiences in the restroom space serve as a mirror to their past and reveal the psychological scars that shape their behaviors.
(chapter 14) 
(chapter 38) 
(chapter 47) However, in Season 2, the lavatory appears isolated for the first time, reinforcing a shift in symbolic meaning. This distinction helps to explain why restrooms (toilets/water closets) hold different meanings for the two protagonists. [for more read 
(chapter 19) —a space where one is free to confront their inner selves without external pressures. In Jinx, the use of the restroom emphasizes the external pressures and the characters’ reactions to their environments, reinforcing their struggles with exposure and control. But how did I come to this realization?
(chapter 33) This would explain why Heesung was determined to hide the physical therapist’s whereabouts. 
(chapter 59) The imminent death of his grandmother triggered his repressed fears.
(chapter 60) He tracks him down, calls him repeatedly 
(chapter 61) Since he can not escape the champion, he decides to ignore him. 
(chapter 55) – the mirror is very low -, Kim Dan retreats into memories to rationalize his pain. Instead of processing his suffering, he shifts blame to Jaekyung, using the restroom space to wall himself off emotionally. The restroom in Jinx thus acts as a metaphor for entrapment—whether through self-isolation or forced exposure, neither character is truly free from their past. 
(chapter 38) So he could faint there or hurt himself and he would have no one by his side. Don’t forget that this place stands for seclusion and privacy. 
(chapter 57), it is clear that the kids were not thinking of sex or using the restroom to assault the little boy. However, we should question ourselves how this rumor about Kim Dan being an orphan started. 
(chapter 54) bears a striking resemblance to this boy, leading to the possibility that this new character could be Kim Dan’s childhood bully. Given Jinx’s themes of positive psychology and confronting past demons, it is plausible that Kim Dan will encounter this schoolmate again. Such an interaction could force Kim Dan to address his unresolved trauma and reexamine his perceptions of strength and vulnerability. Moreover, don’t forget that the doctor in green saw the champion in a terrible shape who had admitted that he had drunk the night before. 
(chapter 54) And in episode 61, the main lead announced to Park Namwook that he had to fire the physical therapist. 
(chapter 61) I sense some retaliation here. 
(chapter 08) It is because in his mind, this place is associated with toilets in general. That’s how it dawned on me that the athlete could have been harassed at school, but contrary to the physical therapist, it took place later. The leader was Baek Junmin who hid behind the “mob”. 
(chapter 49) People could discern his true personality: he was nothing more than a thug. Moreover, he would be perceived as a cheater, because he used others and his seniority to torment a child or teenager. At the same time, since Joo Jaekyung became a victim of bully later, the content about the mobbing should have been different. I am suspecting that he could have been targeted because of his homosexuality. 
(Chapter 14) 
(chapter 55), he showed no reaction. In fact, his headache got even worse than before. 
(chapter 55) The champion’s passivity and migraine could be the symptoms of the athlete’s past suffering. His pain worsened in that place because of the past, but he didn’t realize it, for he was so focused on his soulmate. Secondly, the moment he was about to get kissed 
(chapter 55), he pushed the uke away and left the place
(chapter 55).In this place, he could show vulnerability, yet he experienced that nothing bad happened to him. This explicates why after this experience is willing to remember and even reconnect with the doctor. 
(chapter 54) While he calls his former rival and tormentor’s name and recollects his beating, he is not plagued with a migraine. This means that the real cause for Joo Jaekyung’s suffering (his headache linked to his repressed memories) is triggered by the attitude of his guardian. That’s the reason why he had a nightmare with the ghost of the past. 
(chapter 60) However, this revelation sheds light on a deeper issue: his unquestioned reliance on the spray over Kim Dan’s expertise. 
(chapter 49) This choice reflects a significant lack of trust. Even with Kim Dan as his physical therapist, someone who had already proven his skills by treating his shoulder in record time 
(chapter 49), Joo Jaekyung chose to rely on external medicine rather than the “power of hands” that the nurse in the hospice later praises. 
(chapter 56) 
(chapter 55) But why was he thinking like that? He came to this judgement for two reasons. On the one hand, he was recalling the physical therapist’s nightly desertions. The latter chose to work as a courier instead of focusing on his main job. Moreover, the fact that he hadn’t checked the spray right before using it 
(chapter 51) This explains why the athlete imagined that Kim Dan had resigned due to his mistake. 
(chapter 55) However, this assumption is not only incorrect but unjust, as Kim Dan’s quick and effective treatment of his shoulder clearly demonstrates the contrary. 
(chapter 42) Finally, note that Baek Junmin was not able to defeat the dragon despite targeting his fragile shoulder. 
(chapter 50) The match ended up as a tie. 
(chapter 60) and his failure to shield Kim Dan from blame. The clenched hands symbolize the internal struggle between an internal conflict between anger, indifference and lingering hurt caused by the lack of trust. What caught my attention is the sound of his jaw, KRIK, which reminded me of the star’s behavior. 
indicates that this regret is beginning to fester. While he has not yet voiced these thoughts directly to Joo Jaekyung, the flinching hands 
(chapter 52) By failing to provide a full explanation, Joo Jaekyung created the illusion that the matter was resolved. This lack of transparency leaves Kim Dan burdened with guilt and confusion, unable to find closure.
(chapter 52) I doubt that Potato told him about the director’s bet, too upset to discover the switched spray. The fighter’s ignorance mirrors Kim Dan’s in a way, highlighting how both are victims of deceit. This conversation further reflects their lack of communication, as it seems Joo Jaekyung deliberately avoids sharing his thoughts and knowledge with Kim Dan. 
(chapter 60) also mirrors a significant scene from Chapter 52 
(chapter 52), where Joo Jaekyung’s team visits him after the surgery at the hospital. Notably, the team members only address him when they need him to take the blame for the situation. Through this comparison, I noticed another aspect. They were all standing at a certain distance from the star’s bed. This exposes that none of them had the intention to spend time there and to give company to the athlete. At the same time, their position divulges their arrogance, lack of empathy or worries! Yes, no one is assuming that the athlete’s career is in danger. They are all somehow expecting that he will return to the ring. No wonder why their focus is entirely on the job, ignoring his well-being. When Joo Jaekyung finally voices his frustration and unwell-being 
(chapter 60) Having grown up in an environment where emotional needs were consistently invalidated, he is blind to the damage his actions cause. Consequently, Kim Dan’s rejection and refusal to listen to him are understandable. 
(chapter 60) The treatment is the symbol of the champion’s generosity and rescue. However, this is no longer working. So we could say that this gesture reflects the fate of the golden key chain. 
(chapter 45) After being blamed in the past, Kim Dan has reached his limit and chosen to stop engaging with Joo Jaekyung. However, this reaction risks exacerbating Kim Dan’s denial of his own mental illness, as he suppresses his emotions and isolates himself further. Contrary to the keychain, he can not be replaced. If he doesn’t get treated properly, his life could be in danger. 
(chapter 54) reveals a deeper issue: his belief that drugs can compensate for his mistreatment of his own body. 
(chapter 56), stands in stark contrast to Joo Jaekyung’s belief that medication is the only solution for treatment. Is it a coincidence that the doctor changed his prognostics about grandmother’s life span? No. It shows that without the new medication, she is supposed to live longer. Secondly it is clear that the grandmother is living well, because she is not plagued with remorse or guilt. In my opinion, through Shin Okja, the fighter should discover the power of mental health. 
(chapter 54) and penthouse 
(chapter 54) in Seoul—a city symbolizing anonymity, invisibility, and corruption—to the hospice “Light of Hope” 
(chapter 56) in a small town on the West Coast 
(chapter 56), where people know each other. This essay builds upon my previous interpretations of the series, which led me to develop these predictions for the upcoming season. By comparing the visual depictions of the gym and penthouse in Seoul with the hospice and small town on the West Coast, the divergence in weather becomes a powerful symbol of the changes Joo Jaekyung will undergo. The rainy, overcast settings of the gym and penthouse reflect the fighter’s inner turmoil and sadness, highlighting the oppressive atmosphere of a city rife with anonymity and corruption. In contrast, the sunny and open environment of the hospice and town by the ocean represents a space of hope and renewal, where human connections thrive. This comparison underscores the significant role the hospice and small town will play in fostering Joo Jaekyung’s self-discovery and healing. The gym and penthouse in Seoul symbolize anonymity, invisibility, and corruption. This anonymity stems from the city’s indifference to individual suffering, as seen when Kim Dan was dragged 
(chapter 16) through the streets by loan sharks in broad daylight without anyone intervening. Invisibility is further exemplified by the perverted hospital director, 
(chapter 1) who harassed Kim Dan without facing any consequences, though he was caught, and by Kim Miseon’s unethical actions, such as leaking patient information 
(chapter 48) and using Shin Okja as a guinea pig for trial treatments 
(chapter 21) —none of which led to accountability. In contrast, the hospice represents a counterpoint: 
(chapter 57), reflection, and healing, the MFC epitomizes exploitation, indifference and neglect. 
(chapter 52) The best example is the vanishing of the protagonist’s former rival, Baek Junmin, 
(chapter 36) 
(chapter 35) 
(chapter 57), prompting him to recognize that his so-called career end does not symbolize his real death. 
(chapter 57). This environment challenges him to confront the indifference of figures like Yosep and Park Namwook, whose neglect, blind trust, passivity, naivety, neglect and selfishness have shaped his struggles. Notice that the nurses are often seen together and exchanging thoughts about doc Dan symbolizing unity and harmony 
(chapter 57), yet her exclusion of Kim Dan reveals her flawed understanding of family, which she associates solely with a location. This behavior aligns her with the symbolism of the black sheep: a disruptive force within the community whose selfishness and inability to nurture genuine familial bonds isolate her. Her neglect of Kim Dan, despite his evident suffering, exposes her as prioritizing her personal comfort over the well-being of her own grandson. The arrival of the wolf—Joo Jaekyung—will challenge her perception, forcing her to confront the flaws in her thinking and her selfishness. His presence, along with interactions with other characters such as Potato and Heesung, who possesses the perceptiveness of a gumiho, will expose her true nature to the community. This confrontation will push her toward an overdue reckoning with her actions and their impact on Kim Dan. I also realized that since this woman is suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome, her true enemy is youth which is embodied by Yoon-Gu. The latter stands for the opposite values: innocence and responsibility. So his ignorance and purity could lead her to experience unpleasant truths, like for example: Potato asks her about the whereabouts of Kim Dan’s parents, a new version of this scene: 
(special episode 1) In other words, the presence of Kim Dan’s friends (Joo JAekyung, Potato and Heesung) could make her realize her true nature, which would impact her mental health. She led a life full of missed chances and regrets. 
(chapter 57) and her puppies. Kim Dan is tasked with taking care of the dog and her newborns, and Joo Jaekyung should be asked to do the same. This responsibility not only serves as an allegory for taming the wolf within him but also paves the way for the champion’s deeper connection with Kim Dan. By being close to the ocean 
(chapter 56), a place where Joo Jaekyung finds relaxation through swimming, the setting introduces an opportunity for him to teach Kim Dan how to swim, addressing the latter’s fear of water 
(chapter 27). Swimming could become a shared activity that rebuilds their relationship on a foundation of trust, mutual learning, and growth. Engaging in this physical activity would not only strengthen their bond but also boost Kim Dan’s confidence and help him rediscover his own resilience.
(chapter 54), his connection with Kim Dan is no longer defined by a boss-employee relationship. Their interactions, now free of financial obligations, offer the fighter a clearer view of Kim Dan’s selfless and angelic nature. The physical therapist’s unwavering care, even at the expense of his own well-being, highlights his ungreedy and altruistic character. This realization will deepen Joo Jaekyung’s respect and affection for Kim Dan, further cementing the transformative journey they both embark on.
(chapter 57) and the yelling patient
(chapter 56) “Nurse Mind” and “Nurse Heart,” provide another layer of mentorship. They could act as the champion’s eyes and ears, teaching him to observe and understand Kim Dan’s mental state. Though the nurse 1 started reproaching Kim Dan to neglect himself
(chapter 57), she reminded me of the champion’s friend: 
(chapter 13) She already noticed his unusual fatigue, so in my opinion, this third woman could be the one detecting that the main lead is not eating properly. If this assumption is correct, then she stands for food and body, like in the Korean saying: “If your heart is not in it, you can’t see if you look. You can’t even hear if you listen, and you can’t taste even if you eat.” Their guidance should help Joo Jaekyung cultivate a nurturing side, showing him that strength is not solely physical but also emotional and relational. In this way, the nurses become pivotal in his journey from a lone wolf to a leader who values and protects his pack.
(chapter 49), though their positions are absolutely opposite. The patient’s reaction in Chapter 57 echoes this dynamic, as he accuses Joo Jaekyung of being ill-tempered (this means that he remembers the suspension), a perspective shaped by the media’s manipulations. His criticism reflects the behavior of a sheep, falling prey to misinformation and failing to see the larger truths. On the other hand, it indicates that this man also knows a part of the truth: the suspension which is no longer mentioned, but also escaped Kim Dan’s notice, as he was dealing with his departure. In contrast, Potato’s response in Chapter 49, where he courageously questioned Director Choi despite the latter being an elder, showcases independence and critical thinking. This juxtaposition highlights the patient’s potential to awaken Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan, and Potato to the damaging impact of media narratives. Over time, the patient himself must confront the wrongfulness and cold-heartedness of his accusations, fostering growth and understanding on all sides. These characters reflect the flaws of Yosep and Namwook, enabling Joo Jaekyung to see the neglect and indifference he has endured and inspiring him to redefine his role in the gym and in Kim Dan’s life. 
The illustration’s inclusion of the hamster—symbolizing Kim Dan’s fun, fragile, and nurturing nature—along with the chow chow and the gumiho, emphasizes the roles of protectors and mediators. The chow chow’s loyalty and the gumiho’s cunning serve as essential forces guarding the hamster and navigating the complexities of this “pure community,” where lies and selfishness can still exist. These characters highlight the intricate dynamics within the hospice, where Joo Jaekyung must balance strength with empathy.
(chapter 35), where people’s actions and words can go unnoticed, the hospice fosters an environment of close-knit relationships and mutual observation. 
(chapter 56) In this communal setting, actions carry weight, and behaviors are scrutinized. Thus the door to the meeting room is made of translucent glass. 
(chapter 56) While in the previous essay, I pointed out that this door reflected Kim Dan’s emotional entanglement—he is physically present but emotionally excluded from his grandmother’s world, highlighting the imbalance in their relationship -, in verity this transparent door offers an opportunity for the main lead. How so? The glass door stands not only for transparency, but also for “emotional distance”. The glass allows visibility but creates a barrier, symbolizing a balance between openness and detachment. This is essential in a hospice environment, where the focus is on providing care and support without becoming overly attached to the inevitable outcome: death. For the staff, maintaining a degree of detachment is necessary for their well-being, as becoming too attached could make the emotional toll of their work unbearable. Therefore I am suspecting that the two nurses 
(chapter 56) She is projecting herself in his shoes. Why? IT is because she got influenced by the comment from her colleague. That’s how I realized that together, they represent the balance of heart and mind, their unity and understanding forming a cohesive whole. That’s how both are able not to become indifferent or too much attached. This coincides to the dualism of their profession: care but also detachment. Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why the second nurse is not referring to facts, but to impressions and imagination. Her words are strongly intertwined with rumors: “with his experience”. So far, the main lead had barely experience in his field, as his first big gig ended up in a fiasco. He didn’t stay that long at the hospital and it is the same for the champion. He only worked at the gym for three months. The dark haired woman might have seen Kim Dan’s resume and the last employer, but she didn’t notice his name (Joo Jaekyung). This is her MO for „detachment“, she doesn’t pay attention to names. Moreover, she didn’t detect that he had barely worked as a PT before indicating that she has no notion of „time“. The discrepancy between her thoughts and reality can be easily explained. She also recognized the transformation in the patients, and could link it to the doctor’s skills. The reference to “famous athlete” and the doctor’s skills created a false perception, and this had an influence on her colleague: “You’re telling me!”.
(chapter 56) Her hypocrisy, particularly in her treatment of Kim Dan, remains hidden behind the guise of socially acceptable behavior. Within the hospice, residents maintain a positive opinion of her, which enables her to mask her neglect and selfishness effectively. But since the two nurses are sharing their thoughts and working as a team, it signifies that Shin Okja’s wrongdoings could be detected this time. Or better said, they will realize the true suffering from the protagonist. Nurse Heart and nurse Mind will do their best to protect their new mascot and give him what he truly needs: 
(chapter 5) And the other laughed. Then the coach seems to have no cellphone. Maybe he believes to have no need for it, for he goes to the gym every day. This signifies that he expects to be informed by his hyung Namwook. However, like mentioned in the previous essay, I believe that the manager has been sweeping under the rug the terrible condition of his “boy” from the coach and the team members. To sum up, Team Black embodies the opposite of the hospice’s values. There is no transparency, because the conversation took place not outside, but behind closed door. The door might be translucent, the reality is that they sent away all the members. 
(chapter 36) The gym, while ostensibly a team environment, is ruled by indifference, anonymity, and a lack of genuine camaraderie. The heart and the mind are not working together. Why? It is because the coach is trusting the manager, as he views him as the heart of the gym. What he fails to see, is that Park Namwook is neither the heart nor the mind, for he is more reflecting his surroundings: money. Secondly, the manager is easily influenced and is using conformity and social norms to avoid responsibility. He fears making decisions and lets others become proactive. Joo Jaekyung, the leader, relies exclusively on Park Namwook, the manager, who undermines team spirit by fostering distrust and misinformation. 
(chapter 46) The member’s loyalty got questioned, but the irony is that they had the real insight. 
(chapter 47) Thus rumors about Baek Junmin being an illegal fighter never reached Jaekyung’s ears. That’s why the author made fun of the main lead here: 
(chapter 47) His ear seemed to have caught their badmouthing, but not the real information. But why did he not listen to the members? It is because Namwook had encouraged the champion to keep his distance from others. He had even planted seeds of distrust among the team with his badmouthing about the champion. He has a bad temper and is a spoiled child, so no one needs to pay attention to him and his moods. The slap was the evidence of his disrespect and hypocrisy. 
(chapter 52) The man acted, as if he had been the biggest victim. Moreover, Namwook’s actions often reflect a lack of genuine loyalty, as seen in 
(chapter 56) In reality, the true owner of the gym is the “wolf,” and Namwook’s behavior underscores his disregard for loyalty and responsibility. In fact, his words mirror the nurse’s at the hospice: 
(chapter 56) Since she approached the physical therapist to get closer to him and used work to create a connection, people can see the similarities between her and the manager. While she represents honesty, curiosity, care but also “ignorance”,, it means that Park Namwook embodies the opposite values: indifference and a certain dishonesty. 
(chapter 56) Hence he is seen talking over the phone and not face to face, unlike the nurse. He knows that his boy is struggling, but he acts, as if he didn’t know. This contrast validates my previous interpretation of the manager. His question “Is everything okay with you?” exposes his lack of genuine concern. He uses work not to praise his “boy”, but to blame him for his “negligence”. He downplays the champion’s struggles while still recovering from surgery. This lack of care creates an atmosphere of apathy, anonymity, and selfish expectation, sharply contrasting with the hospice’s values of dignity and communal care. But how do we explain this huge divergence? First, the main principles of the hospice are dignity and care, and not primarily money. Therefore the institution offers free health check once a month: 
(chapter 1) The fighter with the head injury received treatment from the members (self-medication) and Kim Changming had a shoulder injury which got neglected. 
(chapter 56) Her actions, such as allowing Kim Dan to stay by her side and covering him, contrast sharply with her earlier attempts to push him away. In this scene, a caretaker might pass through the rooms to ensure everything is in order, noticing the doctor present. To an outsider, the visible outcome suggests that she accepts her grandchild’s relentless care without protest. It was, as if she had said nothing at all. Yet, this perceived acceptance masks her internal struggle and the discomfort of being dependent on Kim Dan, reflecting her conflicted emotions. These moments of vulnerability and acceptance highlight the gradual erosion of her denial under the hospice’s symbolic light.
(chapter 19) However, for Kim Dan, this object represented a burden rather than a gift. He had troubles to find a new place to stay because of her „treasure“: 
(chapter 16) Despite its substantial value, the grandmother never sold the cabinet to pay off the debts, prioritizing its preservation over the survival of her home and family. On the one hand, this reveals her immaturity and selfishness, as she put up with her grandson’s suffering. On the other hand, her decision created the impression to Kim Dan that this belonging had just a sentimental value and nothing more. So when the champion saw that huge Wedding cabinet, he judged it as „junk“ and that’s how the doctor got this perception validated. 
(Chapter 19) Hence it is not surprising that at the end, he chose to abandon this huge cupboard. 
(Chapter 53) Finally during her move to the Light Of Hope, she did not ask about the whereabouts of her belonging which could only reinforce the impression that this item had no real value. It had even lost its sentimental value, as she was no longer thinking of her former home. Her ignorance and forgetfulness are once again outlining her superficiality, self-centeredness and lack of empathy. The sentimental value of her Wedding Cabinet was rather shallow. But the tragedy is that when the furniture was moved the penthouse, the champion noticed this item for the first time and came to associate this cupboard with the doctor. 
(chapter 42) This explicates why the athlete didn’t pay attention to his soulmate’s clothes. And now, observe that the doctor is only wearing his PT uniform. 
(chapter 56) She is wearing it daily and is proud of it. Deep down, she knows the true value of the scarf: it was expensive 
(Chapter 41) as she employs the expression „spoil to death“. By wearing the scarf with flowers, she appears wealthy, but also vain! Since I detected that Kim Dan likes pink flowers, my interpretation is that this gift mirrors the doctor’s taste indicating that he was slowly regaining his identity and confidence.. 
(chapter 55) This scene reminded me of their first encounter: 
(Chapter 56) So the man must have recognized the doctor‘s fear, which explains why the champion could voice his anger later. But back then, he never wondered why the doctor‘s hands were shaking like leaves. It is because the doctor feared rejection. The present had the following meaning for the physical therapist: recognition and acceptance. The gift was the symbol for „conditional affection“ which he had long internalized due to his grandmother. But this doesn‘t end here. The shaking hands appeared in a different scene: 
(chapter 49) The common denominator between these three scenes is the mistake. Kim Dan feared to have made a mistake with the present, because he was afraid of the champion‘s reaction: will he accept him or not? But let‘s return our attention to the gifts from the doctor. 
(chapter 31)
(chapter 55) implies that as soon as the main couple meet each other, they will have to discuss this matter. To sum up, a gift encourages the couple to communicate, yet contrary to season 1, both should be more honest to each other at the Light Of Hope. Every word and action will appear in a different light. Another aspect is that none of them takes things for granted, which stands in opposition to hyung Namwook and the grandmother. This explicates why the latter have no problem to spend money.
(chapter 56) This dichotomy in season 1 is vividly illustrated in a scene where Kim Dan, under the dappled light of a tree
(chapter 41), experiences a profound moment of awakening. As his hand seems to reach towards the leaves
(chapter 41) Nature awakens something within him— his heart and as such his third eye —allowing him to realize his affection for Joo Jaekyung. This quiet yet powerful moment emphasizes how nature offers clarity and purity, serving as a contrast to the suffocating, impersonal urban world where Kim Dan often found himself lost. Striking is when Joo Jaekyung met Kim Dan for the first time, he compared him to a “leaf,” shaking and fragile—an unconscious recognition of his true nature. 
(chapter 55) However, note that the main lead isn’t stretching his hand to the sky and sun. He is almost immobile. Just before, he was holding the cellphone in his hand: 
(chapter 55) Another divergence to the scene in episode 41 is that Jinx-philes couldn’t see his face. It indicates that the doctor reverted to his old self, and as such he is not true to himself. Therefore I come to the following conclusion. Mingwa uses nature as a mirror to Kim Dan’s emotional and spiritual state. While moments of connection with nature reflect clarity and self-realization, the juxtaposition in this scene underscores the opposite. Here, Kim Dan sits surrounded by trees and bathed in sunlight, yet his attention is consumed by his cellphone—symbolizing his entanglement with money, duty, and his ongoing struggles. Just moments prior, he wired money to the champion, a decision rooted in his past traumas and present desperation. The irony of the setting cannot be overlooked: though nature surrounds him, its purity and tranquility remain unnoticed, emphasizing how Kim Dan is still trapped in patterns of survival, burdened by his circumstances. He has become a ghost once again. This disconnect reveals how the weight of his past prevents him from embracing the present moment and reconnecting with his true nature, contrasting starkly with earlier scenes where his senses came alive under the trees. 
(chapter 56) The empty beach scene, with its sunlight and tranquil beauty, reflects peace, but also unfulfilled connections. Kim Dan’s absence from this moment underscores his failure to keep a heartfelt promise to his grandmother: 
(chapter 53) —now associated with the sunlight, symbolizing life and vitality—but also from Kim Dan’s fixation on his own suffering. 
(chapter 56) Abandoned once again, Kim Dan is consumed by the weight of his trauma, isolating himself emotionally and excluding himself from others.
(chapter 29) That’s the moment he started opening up to others, he confided his struggles to Oh Daehyun and Potato: 
(chapter 37) The puppy symbolizes not only nature, but also innocence. Let’s not forget that he was moved by the actor’s flowers in the past: 
(chapter 21) Yes, by offering him a puppy! Is it a coincidence that the author made the champion jog next to a dog owner? I don’t think so. Until now, nothing could move Kim Dan’s heart: 
(chapter 23) While this was his original dream, after the last incident, there is no doubt that the young maknae must feel guilty and unhappy. He had not been able to protect and defend his new hyung. However, I have to admit that I would like to see the main couple having a pet! The latter would bring life in the penthouse, but also force the two protagonists to have a new routine. The penthouse would truly become a real home.
(chapter 47), the nursing attendant 
(chapter 21) or the reporters: 
(chapter 37) 
(chapter 40) However, Manhwa-worms will notice a significant distinction: in Season 1, these women were all tied to the world of work. Even Kim Dan’s grandmother, though she represents a familial figure, falls into this category.
(chapter 56) Moreover, the grandmother’s choice of words, “Why don’t you turn in?”, implies that she sees Kim Dan’s presence as a form of “work” or duty. This phrasing is often associated with someone finishing a day’s tasks or obligations before going to bed, which fits into the broader dynamic between Kim Dan and his responsibilities. In my eyes, it shows that she is seeing her grandson more as a caretaker than as a family member. We shouldn’t forget that she was the reason why the main lead became a PT. It was, as if her dream had come true. Nevertheless, the verity is that his grandmother is receiving treatment from his colleagues. 
(chapter 56) It looks like she’s pushing him away. On the one hand, her request sounds right, for she is treated quite well and the suggestion was made out of concern. She sees her grandchild struggling, and probably imagines that this move must weight down on Kim Dan. On the other hand, I can’t help myself thinking that this woman also has other reasons to send him back to Seoul. The nurse was already pitying the physical therapist: 
(chapter 7) before she got reassured. Then she made this request 
(chapter 55) and later brought the doctor’s present: 
(chapter 19) He is not capable to take care of himself well. 
(chapter 55) Observe how she smiled to him by saying goodbye. This is a sign that her respect and care are genuine. One might think that this nameless cleaning lady was unfortunately portrayed as eyeless: 
(chapter 56) I don’t think, we should see it in a pejorative light, like for an example of blindness or manipulation. In my eyes, the absence of her eyes are mirroring the nature of their relationship between the champion and the cleaning service. So far, he never met these people, as he was always away. In other words, the absence of the eyes is showing that the sportsman doesn’t know her that well. But it could change and this because of Kim Dan.
(chapter 56) in the illustration. It is because I realized that the champion first looked for Kim Dan at Sports Therapy Centers 
(chapter 56) before realizing that his fated partner might have switched the focus in PT, geriatrics. And what did the PT say at the Light Of Hope Hospice? 
(chapter 56) Male physical therapists like this one 
(chapter 13) He is neglecting himself to the point of exhaustion, because he is living as a PT non-stop. While the champion was fighting with his bad shoulder, the other is using his hands for treatment, hence he is not eating.
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 