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 Breathless in the Light – part 1 and Breathless in the Light – part 2
It would be great if you could make some donations/sponsoring: Ko-fi.com/bebebisous33 That way, you can support me with “coffee” so that I have the energy to keep examining Manhwas. Besides, I need to cover up the expenses for this blog.
When Air Becomes Emotion
There are chapters in Jinx that feel like pauses in the storm, moments when the story seems to inhale before beating again. Chapter 83 is one of them. At first glance, it resembles a “date”: the two men wear complementary headbands — white and black, 
(chapter 83) mirroring the contrast of their clothes and their personalities — and the champion even leans in to lick a smear of ice cream from the therapist’s finger, an image so intimate that any passerby would mistake them for lovers. And yet, not quite. The physical therapist approaches the outing as part of his job, a therapeutic break meant to soothe his patient’s nerves 
(chapter 83), while the athlete approaches the day with a far more personal hope. He stages the rides strategically, intending to appear strong and reliable so that his companion might grow frightened and instinctively reach for him 
(chapter 83) — just as he once did in the swimming pool. 
(chapter 80) Beneath the surface, what looks like a date is a carefully orchestrated attempt to recreate closeness without naming it. To conclude, whereas the episode flirts with the aesthetics of a date, the intentions behind it remain mismatched, unspoken, and unresolved. It is not an official date, yet it does not behave like a simple work-related excursion either, and we as readers are left suspended in that tantalizing in-between space — as if the very moment were hanging weightless above the ground, waiting for someone to name what it truly is.
As we follow them through the amusement park, we sense something shifting. The air itself seems to vibrate 
(chapter 83), charged with a warmth that seasoned Jinxphiles will recognize immediately: a tension between joy and tension, duty and desire, wind and water. And then we see him — the usually anxious physical therapist — smiling with his eyes closed, arms raised, as if offering himself to the sky and joining his “companions”, the clouds. In this panel, his hands — so often clenched, overworked, or trembling from exhaustion, fear or anger — are finally resting, suspended in a gesture of pure lightness and ease.
This moment is more than simple amusement; it is a brief liberation from the weight he has carried for years. For the first time, the man who usually survives on caution allows himself to rise, to laugh, to surrender to the wind. He appears almost weightless — as if something inside him has quietly unclenched. And as I watched this unexpected lightness unfold, something else surfaced just as naturally: a melody. Soft at first, almost accidental. It felt as though the chapter itself were humming in the background — John Paul Young’s Love Is in the Air.
Love is in the air
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every soundAnd I don’t know if I’m being foolish
Don’t know if I’m being wise
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when I look in your eyesLove is in the air
In the whisper of the trees
Love is in the air
In the thunder of the seaAnd I don’t know if I’m just dreaming
Don’t know if I feel sane
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when you call out my nameChorus: Love is in the air
Love is in the air
Oh-oh-oh
Mm-ooh, ooh-oohLove is in the air
In the risin’ of the sun
Love is in the air
When the day is nearly doneAnd I don’t know if you’re an illusion
Don’t know if I see it true
But you’re something that I must believe in
And you’re there when I reach out for youLove is in the air
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every soundAnd I don’t know if I’m being foolish
Don’t know if I’m being wise
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when I look in your eyes (chorus)
Its melody, repetitive and gently rising, mirrors the slow ascent of the Ferris 
wheel: a circular motion that builds toward a quiet crescendo. And what might strike you — almost instinctively — is how naturally the lyrics seem to align with the chapter’s emotional beats, as if each verse echoed a panel.
“Every sight and every sound,”
“I don’t know if I’m being foolish,”
“It’s there when I look in your eyes”
— suddenly these lines become more than a melody. They become a key to understanding what neither the fighter nor the therapist dares to say aloud. (chapter 83) The song becomes more than a soundtrack; it becomes an interpretive key, guiding us through the protagonists’ unspoken emotions and shadowed hesitations.
At the same time, chapter 83 mirrors earlier moments of their story—especially the opening episode and the charged night-and-morning sequence of chapters 44 
(chapter 44) and 45, where desire blurred into illusion and 
(chapter 45) reality collided with unspoken longing. The tension between dream 
(chapter 83) and waking life, quietly present in the lyrics themselves, resurfaces at the park amusement as well — though its meaning will become clearer as we look deeper. In season 1, the boundaries between the celebrity fighter and his therapist were blurred in ways neither of them understood: professional on the surface, intimate in practice, yet undefined in essence. Physical closeness existed, but emotional clarity did not. Now, in the bright openness of this amusement-park afternoon and evening, we are invited to look again. What exactly is their relationship here? A supervised rest day? A moment of companionship? The first fragile step toward something tenderer that neither man is ready to articulate?
And if their bond no longer fits the categories imposed by their roles, then we are left with the question that rises with them into the purple sky: What is love—when the line between duty and desire dissolves into the air itself?
Dan — “Love is in the air, everywhere I look around”
The first verse of the song insists on perception — on looking, hearing, sensing the presence of love in the world before one dares to name it. And this is precisely what happens to the physical therapist in chapter 83. When he sees a child running toward a mascot for a hug 
(chapter 83) or a family laughing together 
(chapter 83), something in him shifts so quietly that one might miss it at first glance: he smiles. 
(chapter 83) Not out of politeness, not to reassure someone else, not through exhaustion or habit. He smiles because he witnesses joy — and for once, it does not make him feel smaller. It does not activate the reflexes of deprivation or fear that shaped his life from childhood to early adulthood. On the other hand, the smile he gives in that moment is not radiant, not wide, not unguarded. It is a grin, a restrained upward curve that reveals both warmth and hesitation. His joy is present — unmistakably so — but it is still contained, as if his body has not yet learned how to express happiness without caution. This small, hesitant grin shows us a man who is beginning to open, yet still holds himself back, afraid of wanting too much.
And what makes this expression so striking is what it lacks. There is no envy in his eyes. No longing to trade places with the laughing family. No bitterness. No “why not me?” His gaze does not grab at the happiness he sees; it simply receives it. This absence is meaningful. For someone who grew up experiencing loss, scarcity, and emotional withholding, joy witnessed in others often triggers one of two reactions:
- greed (“I want that, too.”)
- hurt (“Why can’t I have that?”)
But Dan feels neither. He simply watches and grins — shyly, lightly, almost apologetically — as if happiness is something he is allowed to observe but not yet to claim. The expression reflects the quiet discipline of someone who has spent years dampening his own desires so he wouldn’t be disappointed. His joy is limited, yes, but also genuine. It is the joy of someone who is relearning safety through the world around him, step by delicate step.
And this is precisely why the grin matters. It shows that his emotional defenses are beginning to loosen, but not collapse. He allows the warmth of the scenery to touch him, without reaching out for more. He permits himself to feel — but in moderation, in the smallest possible dose that won’t frighten him. It is, therefore, the perfect visual embodiment of the song’s opening line:
“Love is in the air, everywhere I look around…”
because for the first time, he is looking around with the capacity to notice, even if he still doesn’t dare to hope.
Back in episode 1, the world was something he endured: every sound 
(chapter 1) reminded him of responsibility , every sight 
(chapter 1) pulled him back to duty or scarcity. Happiness belonged to others; he lived on the margins, always working, always surviving. But here, in the brightness of the amusement park 
(chapter 83), his gaze is finally unshackled. He looks outward and takes in the warmth of strangers’ affection without translating it into loss or longing. (chapter 83) Like described above, he is neither envious nor resentful. Instead, he experiences a fragile form of joy — not through himself, but through others. It is indirect happiness, a borrowed ray of light, but it is still happiness.
This scene reveals a subtle but profound transformation: the world no longer feels hostile. For a child who grew up believing that everything — security, love, parents — could vanish without warning or bring pain, the outside world was always tinged with danger. Now, for the first time, it becomes a landscape where he feels safe 
(chapter 83), though an accident could actually occur there. This contrasts so much to his thoughts in episode 1. 
(chapter 1) The amusement park becomes a place in which love exists openly, visibly, harmlessly. The lyrics capture this awakening beautifully: “And I don’t know if I’m being foolish… but it’s something that I must believe in.” (chapter 83) This is exactly what his smile expresses. He has no proof that love could include him. No certainty that he deserves it. No assurance that daring to hope won’t lead to disappointment. And yet, he believes — not because someone reassures him, but because his own senses finally give him permission.
When he smiles at the child or the family, he is not imagining himself in their place, nor projecting himself into some idealized domestic future. He simply lets the warm air settle in his chest. Happiness exists. It exists near him. It exists without punishing him. And if it exists, then perhaps — perhaps — he is not excluded from it forever. This is the first real beat of hope, the quiet reawakening of a heart that has spent too long underwater. The therapist who once sank in the pool out of fear now rises through the air of the amusement park simply by witnessing life unfold around him. His joy does not come from the ride; it initially comes from seeing love in the air, exactly as the song describes.
Yet this joy remains delicate, tentative — the kind that sits quietly at the edge of his lips. His smile is not wide or unguarded; it is a small, restrained grin, (chapter 83) a gesture that reveals how carefully he still manages his own emotions. For a man who learned early in life to minimize his desires to avoid disappointment, this gentle openness is already a form of courage. And then something unexpected happens.
Dan — “Love is in the air, In the risin’ of the sun”
The moment he realizes that the fighter 
(chapter 83) — the man who seems invincible and superior in every domain — has never been to an amusement park, a spark ignites inside him. 
(chapter 83) His heart, which moments earlier beat quietly in observation, begins to race with excitement. For the first time, he is equal to the athlete. At the same time, for the first time, he is the one with experience or power. 😲 How so? For the first time, age becomes real 
(chapter 83): the physical therapist is twenty-nine, the athlete twenty-six.
Dan’s seniority — long irrelevant, long suppressed — begins to surface, not through conscious thought, but through instinct. He does not step forward because he is older; he steps forward because, for once, he knows something the fighter does not: his own desires. His body moves before his mind names the change. His voice lifts before he understands. 
(chapter 83) He suddenly steps into a role he has never been allowed to inhabit before: that of the knowledgeable one, the guide, the hyung.
And this moment exposes a quiet truth about his past that the story had always hinted at: he has never been allowed to inhabit his age. 
(chapter 78) Dan’s lifetime of passivity did not come from lack of intelligence or lack of will; it came from conditioning. He was raised by a guardian who loved him, yes, but who also unintentionally infantilized him. He was not allowed to question her words and decisions. His grandmother, who was not just older but twice his senior in authority, experience, and certainty, occupied every position of knowledge in his life. She decided what was dangerous, what was sensible, what was allowed, and what was forbidden. Her worldview dominated so completely that Dan’s own judgment never had room to form. His grandmother’s authority was absolute — not malicious, but unquestioned — and Dan learned very early that his role in the household was not to decide but to obey.
The clearest illustration appears in Chapter 7, when she panics about the money he could spend for her treatment and immediately demands: 
(chapter 7) As if a twenty-nine-year-old man — a working professional — were incapable of making a responsible financial decision. Dan’s “Of course not!” is instinctive, defensive, almost childlike, exposing the emotional hierarchy between them. In her eyes, he is not an adult with agency, but a boy who must be corrected, cautioned, overridden.
And yet — paradoxically — he was forced to become an adult far too early which the grandmother acknowledges. 
(chapter 65) However, observe that here, she feigns ignorance, she doesn’t know the origins of this metamorphosis. On the other hand, it is clear that she is well aware of the cause. He worked to support them both. He paid the hospital bills. He negotiated the debts. He shouldered the responsibility of survival.
And the greatest irony? The debt is in his name. 
(chapter 17) Legally, financially, the burden is his. But emotionally, symbolically, he was never allowed to own that responsibility; it was neither recognized nor validated. Instead, his grandmother continued to treat him as a child incapable of navigating the world on his own — even though he was the one saving them both.
This contradiction shaped him: He learned duty without authority, responsibility without recognition, adulthood without autonomy. He was taught to carry the weight of the world but never the permission to decide how to carry it. And now, we finally comprehend why the physical therapist remained so passive throughout Season 2. By giving him choices 
(chapter 77) and asking for his opinion
(chapter 83), Joo Jaekyung is liberating his fated partner.
And this is precisely why the moment in Chapter 83 hits so deeply. (chapter 83) For the first time, he is not the silent follower but the one who leads. For the first time, his taste and desire matter.
For the first time, he is allowed to choose — where to walk, what to try, how to spend the day.
And in that instant, something long-suppressed rises to the surface: the part of him that was never permitted to grow up. His racing heart is not just excitement; it is the awakening of a self that had been dormant for years — the self who finally, quietly, steps into the light. As if echoing John Paul Young’s quiet promise,
“Love is in the air, in the risin’ of the sun,”
something inside him rises too — a self long buried under duty and financial strain. Chapter 83 unfolds beneath the sun, but its emotional lighting belongs to him: not chronological morning, but the symbolic morning of a man finally waking up. We see this most clearly in the moment he blushes and murmurs: (chapter 83). His face, half in shadow and half in light, appears as though it is gradually emerging from darkness. It feels like dawn breaking across his features — the soft illumination of newfound boldness, desire, and possibility. Even if the scene takes place in the afternoon, his face carries the light of morning, the brightness of a heart beginning to beat for itself. (chapter 83) And this is why his heart speeds up. Why he blushes. Why he suddenly moves with purpose. Why he becomes the guide: “I’ll be your guide today!”
This is not merely excitement. It is the first time his joy has weight and his seniority has meaning. It is the first time he can lead without fear. It is the first time he can offer joy rather than labor. In this fleeting, luminous moment, the therapist steps into the adulthood he earned long ago — not out of duty, but out of freedom. And paradoxically, by stepping into adulthood, he is finally allowed to reclaim something he was robbed of: childhood. Thus he receives a huge Teddy Bear from the athlete. 
(chapter 83) The toy from his childhood had vanished, probably thrown away because it had lost its role and doc Dan had no longer the time to play. At the same time, we should question ourselves who had offered it to doc Dan. 
(chapter 47)
The man who had to shoulder debts, bills, and survival before he even finished school now gets to experience what ordinary children take for granted — wearing a headband, tasting ice cream, pointing excitedly toward the next ride.
His joy is not childish; it is restorative. It is the healing of a stage of life he never truly lived. And with every shift of light and fresh air, a new part of Dan awakens — his agency, his boldness, his playfulness, even his shy but stubborn desires. (chapter 83) And this awakening has another consequence: for the first time, money disappears as a source of fear.
Dan, who used to feel uncomfortable in front of presents or at the slightest expense, suddenly moves with ease. 
(chapter 83) He accepts the fighter’s generosity without guilt 
(chapter 83), yet offers his own in return — buying the drinks, fetching the ice cream, participating in the flow of giving rather than shrinking from it. 
(chapter 83) No one questions cost; no one frames affection as financial burden. This reciprocity is gentle, natural, unspoken. It stands in stark contrast to Heesung 
(chapter 32), who immediately reduced generosity to calculation. He implied that doc Dan couldn’t afford it. His smile was a lure; his kindness, a transaction.
But with Jaekyung, Dan is not a debtor or a burden. Money stops being a battlefield. He is simply someone who can say yes and accept a huge Teddy Bear. (chapter 83) In fact, he loves the “gift”. He is someone who can offer something back (the drink, but also concerns 
(chapter 83) Someone who can choose.
Here, in the sunlit corners of the amusement park, the therapist is no longer the boy (chapter 65) who was forced into adulthood nor the adult who was treated like a child. He is finally both: 
(chapter 83) That’s the reason why Mingwa placed a boy with his father between the couple in this image. At the same time, she also insinuated that Joo Jaekyung was acting not only as a father, but also as a “boy”. That’s why love is in the air… they come to accept their true self. The two protagonists are both adults and kids!
Now, doc Dan is free enough to play and enjoy the rides 
(chapter 83), and respected enough to lead. And in that rare space, something long dormant begins to bloom, the return of the little boy’s innocence and smile! (chapter 83) “Love is in the air, In the whisper of the trees” Keep in mind that according to my interpretation, the tree embodies the physical therapist.
Just two people sharing the cost of a shared day — naturally, effortlessly, without negotiation. It is a small detail, but it signals a tectonic emotional shift: he no longer sees himself as someone who must earn affection through restraint, sacrifice, or poverty. He no longer sees himself as a burden!
Joo Jaekyung — “Love is in the air, in the thunder of the sea”
If Dan awakens in air, Jaekyung is pulled, almost violently, toward water. 
(chapter 83) The second half of the verse — “in the thunder of the sea” — finds its embodiment not in waves or ocean spray, but in a wooden flying boat swinging high above an amusement park. 
(chapter 83) It is here, of all places, that the façade of the undefeated champion bends, flickers, and reveals the frightened boy hiding beneath the man. 
(chapter 83)
At first, the athlete walks through the park with a confidence bordering on theatrical. He speaks like someone who knows the rules of amusement rides 
(chapter 83), although the knowledge is borrowed, second-hand, quoted from “the guys at the gym.” He buys cute headbands (chapter 83), pays for almost everything 
(chapter 83), selects a giant teddy bear as a prize. He tries to perform adulthood, to appear experienced, reliable, worldly — the one who leads. That’s why his reaction after the ride on the boat resembles a lot to the father: scared of rides (chapter 83) And yet this performance is delicate. One touch is all it takes to fracture it. 
(chapter 83) Because the truth is that Jaekyung, too, is both an adult and a child. Thus the author used many “chibi” in this chapter: (chapter 83) He is the man who finances the day, but also the boy who has never stepped inside an amusement park. 
(chapter 83) He is the warrior who never loses, but also the boy who becomes jealous of a rollercoaster because it made Dan smile. 
(chapter 83) He is the emperor of the ring, but also the boy whose innocence was stolen far too early through neglect, violence, and trauma.
This duality surfaces even during the ride moves. 
(chapter 83) When he sees Dan laughing with the wind in his hair, he is first moved. 
(chapter 83) For the first time, he truly notices the doctor’s joy and happiness. However, later his thoughts tighten into a childish pout: (chapter 83) The jealousy is not malicious — it is heartbreakingly sincere. It belongs to someone who has never been the source of gentle affection. Someone who has always been valued for power, not warmth. Someone whose earliest memories taught him that attention comes only when he performs. What he fails to notice that he is still behind the doctor’s happiness. How so? It is because he was the one who had suggested this trip!!
But let’s return our attention to the boat, the ride who combines water and air. The great athlete — the dragon of the cage, the man who terrifies opponents simply by standing in front of them — folds inward like a frightened child. (chapter 83) As the ride swings, his fingers clamp around the safety bar, his head drops, his breathing stutters, and his posture collapses into defensive instinct. The motion is too familiar. Too close to something his body remembers even when his mind tries to forget. One might think, it is related to his fear of fall. However, it is only partially true. His dizziness on the flying boat is not simply fear of a ride, nor the comedic reversal of roles between the fearless champion and the timid therapist. It is the physical echo of a lifetime of trauma — the kind the body never forgets.
A fighter’s training does not harden the vestibular system; it punishes it. Years of repeated blows 
(chapter 72)— even those that fall short of a diagnosable concussion — accumulate inside the inner ear like invisible fractures. The system responsible for balance, spatial orientation, and visual stabilization becomes worn, over-calibrated to impact but under-prepared for fluctuation. A man can be conditioned to withstand punches that would floor an ordinary person, yet still falter when the world tilts beneath him.
This is exactly what we witness on the flying boat. Jaekyung turns pale long before the motion becomes violent. His breathing shifts. His body stiffens. He clings to the safety bar not out of embarrassment, but because his senses are betraying him. These are classic signs of vestibular sensitivity — the lightheadedness, the nausea triggered by visual motion, the momentary whiteouts where vision loses stability, the delayed recovery after sudden shifts in height. Boxers experience it. Wrestlers experience it. MMA fighters live with it. But Jaekyung’s case carries a sharper edge.
Because his vulnerability is not merely the byproduct of sport. 
It carries the ghost of childhood instability — the disorientation of being struck by someone who should have protected him, the instinctive bracing for impact, the nights when the world spun not from amusement but from fear. 
(chapter 72) The body he trained into steel was built upon a nervous system shaped by violence. Let’s not forget that before his father died, the latter hit his head with a bottle once again. 
(chapter 73) Finally, he started fighting at such a young age, 
(chapter 72), actually boxing at such a young age is limited to non-contact activities like footwork drills, shadowboxing, jump rope, basic strength & coordination, bag work with very light gloves. So there is no sparring, no head contact. 
(chapter 72)
It can survive force, but unpredictability — the rocking of a boat, the sudden drop of a height — awakens old alarms he never learned to silence. And now, you comprehend why Mingwa placed this panel just before they got on the boat! (chapter 83) This is what his father should have done in the past.
This is why the flying boat becomes his “thunder of the sea.” Not a thrill. A warning.
While Dan rises with the air (chapter 83) — light, joyful, awakened — Jaekyung is dragged back toward the element he once drowned in. His dizziness is the somatic memory of a boy who learned to endure chaos by stillness, who now finds himself unable to breathe when the world refuses to stay still.
And yet, even after this destabilizing moment, the athlete refuses to give up 
(chapter 83), thus they try other rides. It is important, because it implies that Joo Jaekyung is gradually leaving the water! This explicates why later something extraordinary happens. (chapter 83) He opens one eye — just one — and in that tiny gesture, the entire emotional axis of the chapter tilts. It is not the instinct of a fighter checking his surroundings; it is the instinct of a man searching for someone. The flying boat lurches beneath him, the air rushing past in violent arcs, yet all his focus narrows to a single point of stillness: Kim Dan. (chapter 83) This moment mirrors Dan’s earlier “sunrise” panel, but in reverse. Where Dan’s face emerged from shadow into light, Jaekyung’s eye emerges from strain into clarity.
Where Dan stepped into awakening, Jaekyung clings to consciousness, seeking an anchor.
And that is why this panel is so quietly devastating. He does not open his eye to judge the ride or assess danger;
he opens it to find the lightness he cannot produce within himself, due to the guilt he is carrying in himself.
He is pale, dizzy, destabilized — the seat rocks like a wave he cannot fight — and instinctively, his gaze reaches outward for the one thing that steadies him. And there he sees it:
Dan smiling. Dan at ease. Dan radiant in the wind. (chapter 83)
It hits him like a beam of sunlight breaking through nausea, fear, and vertigo. (chapter 83) In the song’s language, this is his “rising of the sun” moment — not because he feels lightness, but because he perceives it in someone else. The warmth he cannot generate becomes visible in the face of the man beside him.
For Dan, love rises like morning.
For Jaekyung, love enters like light through a crack — a single opened eye.
And in that sliver of brightness, he breathes again. It is a pure parallel to the song’s line — “Love is in the air, everywhere I look around” — because that is exactly what he does: he looks around, and his gaze lands on Dan. The doctor’s smile becomes the only stable point in the shifting world. Jaekyung’s competitiveness, his jealousy of the rollercoaster, his greed for Dan’s smile — all of it collapses into something softer once his body falters.
For the first time, he allows himself to rely on someone else. To conclude, the ride — with its water-like arcs and unpredictable shifts — becomes a symbolic reenactment of the environment that shaped him. This is the song’s “thunder of the sea”: violent motion, destabilizing memory, fear disguised as nausea.
Yet despite his struggle, something remarkable awakens. Joo Jaekyung is still enjoying his time with his fated partner. Thus he wished to stay longer there. (chapter 83) It is because he enjoys listening to doc Dan. He enjoys his voice and words. This is not the internal voice of a fighter; it is the voice of someone falling in love without yet understanding how strong his feelings are.
He is too dizzy to perform adulthood, too overwhelmed to hide behind rank or reputation. The fragility he has always repressed leaks through every line of his body — and for the first time, he lets it. Thus he follows his heart and wins a huge teddy bear and buys headbands.
To conclude, the flying boat marks the moment 
(chapter 83),when Joo Jaekyung is stripped of his armor. The amusement park returns him to something raw, trembling, unfinished. But instead of shame, there is warmth. Instead of anger, there is gratitude. 
(chapter 83) Instead of retreat, there is reaching — a quiet but unmistakable reaching toward the man beside him. The problem is that he is still too scared to voice his thoughts in front of the physical therapist.
This represents another step of Jaekyung’s transformation: the shift from solitary dragon to partner, from survivor to someone who longs to be understood. And here, the parallel with his earlier metaphor becomes striking.
Back in Chapter 29, he described challengers as hyenas nipping at his heels 
, (chapter 29) a swarm of predators waiting for him to slow down. His career was an ocean of teeth and waves — constant motion, constant danger. Thus I detected a progression. In episode 69, he jumped onto the boat 
(chapter 69), then at the amusement park, the boat was in the air (chapter 83) Thus I deduce that the boat is “the last wave” he rides.
Once it stops, his world no longer moves with the violence of water. When he ascends the Ferris wheel 
(chapter 83), he rises into air — the first air he has breathed without fear.
He leaves the sea behind. He leaves the waves of fighters behind. He leaves the ocean of survival behind. Therefore I am sensing that the athlete is about to change his career and path. He will stop acting as a fighter only. That moment of ascent — quiet, suspended, pink-lit — is the moment he finally becomes what he was always meant to be: not prey chased across waves, not a beast trapped in turbulence, but a dragon lifting into the sky.
And the first breath of that ascent — the first hint of air entering lungs long constrained — begins beside Dan, in a gently swinging gondola at sunset.
The two men meet there in the subtle overlap between air and sea —
between awakening and unraveling,
between lightness and instability,
between childhood and adulthood.
The whisper of the trees meets the thunder of the sea.
And the love that neither can yet name floats quietly between them.
The Ferris Wheel — Where Dream and Reality Finally Meet
The emotional architecture of Chapter 83 only reveals its full depth when placed beside the earlier night-and-morning dyad of Chapters 44 and 45. Those chapters form a pair of opposites: a false dream 
(chapter 44) followed by a false dawn. Chapter 44 unfolds in artificial night — neon 
(chapter 44) and night lamp (chapter 44) — a landscape where nothing is stable and nothing is truly felt. Jaekyung is drunk, his consciousness slipping in and out of awareness; Dan, overwhelmed and inexperienced (when it comes to relationship), projects meaning onto a moment that cannot hold it. He wishes time would “stand still,” but he is wishing against reality. The entire scene is built on one-sided desire. The intimacy is sensory, not emotional. Dan longs to “get to know” 
(chapter 44) someone who is not present, rather drunk. But getting to know someone means communication. It is precisely the illusion captured in the song’s confession: I don’t know if I’m just dreaming… I don’t know if I see it true… And he wasn’t seeing it true; he was dreaming alone.
Then comes Chapter 45 — cruel daylight, harsh and flat, the sun stripped of warmth. 
(chapter 45) Morning light becomes a scalpel. There is no magic left, no gentleness, no room for misunderstanding. Jaekyung’s bluntness 
(chapter 45) annihilates the illusion Dan had constructed the night before. This is not heartbreak; it is disenchantment, the almost physical pain of realizing a moment meant nothing to the other person involved. Chapter 44 was the dream, and Chapter 45 was its punishment. Together they show a relationship out of sync, two people whose desires never touch at the same time. One wishes for home and attention, while the other has no idea that he is loved. So far, he has never heard this: “I love you”. One tries to reach out emotionally, while the other remains absent. However, when they are both lucid, none of them are totally honest, as they are self confused. Thus they are in two different worlds.
Chapter 83 is the first time those worlds merge. Hence we have the purple sky! 
(chapter 83) This scene confirmed my previous interpretation about the symbolism of the blue/golden hour. 
Everything that failed in Chapters 44 and 45 is repaired — not by repetition, but by transformation. (chapter 83) The setting is no longer artificial night nor cold morning. It is true daylight — warm, golden, forgiving. Both men are fully conscious. Both are vulnerable. Both are honest. Both are sober. And for the first time, both want the same thing at the same time. This mutuality is the quiet miracle that turns an ordinary Ferris wheel cabin into a sacred emotional space. When Dan looks toward the horizon and murmurs, (chapter 83), the wolf thinks, with disarming sincerity, he is thankful toward the physical therapist. ” The wish that destroyed them in Chapter 44 now binds them together in Chapter 83. Suspended high in the sky, they share the same breath, the same light, the same fragile desire. This is where John Paul Young’s lyrics finally find their home: And I don’t know if I’m being foolish… don’t know if I’m being wise… but it’s something that I must believe in… and it’s there when I look in your eyes. And now it is the champion’s turn to become brave and confess his feelings to doc Dan, but like it was just revealed: Joo Jaekyung refused to repeat his confession! 
(chapter 83)
And the Ferris wheel forces them to talk to each other and face that truth. Unlike that night when Jaekyung could simply roll over and fall asleep, or that morning when Dan could retreat into silence, the Ferris wheel offers no escape route. They are trapped together — enclosed, elevated, suspended. Neither can walk away. 
(chapter 45) Neither can pretend not to feel. Neither can avoid the other’s gaze. They must see each other as they are, in that moment. And miraculously, neither flinches. There is no denial, no deflection, no cruelty. Only two men who finally dare to look. Whereas Chapter 44 let them hide behind darkness and drunkenness, and Chapter 45 forced them into cold exposure, Chapter 83 holds them in a gentle, suspended in-between: the space where dream and reality finally meet.
And Mingwa gives this moment a witness (chapter 83) — the enormous Teddy Bear Jaekyung won earlier that day. In the cramped Ferris wheel cabin, the bear sits with them, silent and soft, absorbing every unspoken emotion. It becomes the guardian of the day’s truth, the counterweight to the night of Chapter 44. Nothing from this moment can be denied, rewritten, or dismissed as drunken illusion. The bear remembers. It carries the warmth of Dan’s rediscovered childhood, the soreness of Jaekyung’s fear on the boat, the sweetness of their awkwardness, the courage of their mutual wish. Later, when Dan sees the bear again, he will remember not the fear of falling, not the dizziness, not the awkwardness — but the moment Jaekyung looked at him and apologized to him. Hence later the doctor is seen looking at his present 
(chapter 84) and holding the bear’s hand. 
(chapter 84) The bear contains the view, the sunset, the air, the honesty — everything that neither of them can run away from now.
This is why the Ferris wheel scene is more than a romantic interlude; it is a structural correction of the narrative wound created in Chapters 44 and 45. It does not repeat the night. It redeems it. It heals the morning. It merges the suspended magic of Chapter 44 with the daylight honesty of Chapter 45 — but only because both are willing, present, open. For the first time, their timing aligns. For the first time, neither is dreaming alone. For the first time, love is truly in the air, not as fantasy nor delusion, but as a shared, breathing reality. But wait… in episode 84, there is no “I like you,” no dramatic declaration, no romance in words. So it looks like my association was wrong. 
(chapter 84) Instead, what rises between them is something quieter and far more intimate: penance. The fighter does not confess love; he confesses his faults. He does not offer desire; he offers regret. In Jinx, this is the deeper beginning of love, because an apology centers the other person’s pain rather than one’s own feelings. Then Jaekyung admits he was wrong, he gives Dan something far more valuable than a confession — he gives recognition. The hamster has rights, he can express his thoughts and feelings.
This is why the air in the cabin feels charged despite the lack of explicit emotion. Love appears not as a statement but as a change in behavior, a cessation of superiority, a willingness to repair what was broken. For the first time, they meet on equal ground: the athlete stripped of his dominance, the therapist freed from his habitual submission. Neither plays a role; both simply exist honestly in the same small space. They are both humans.
And in this suspended moment, John Paul Young’s refrain drifts quietly into the scene—not as music, but as meaning. Because what unfolds in the cabin is exactly the tension the song names:
“And I don’t know if I’m being foolish,
Don’t know if I’m being wise…”
Both men stand at that threshold. Dan is wise enough to hope again, hence he is holding the teddy bear’s hand (chapter 84), but foolish enough to remain cautious and remain silent. 
(chapter 84)
Jaekyung is foolish enough not repeat his words (chapter 84) 
(chapter 84), but wise enough to regret immediately. 
(chapter 84) He is also wise enough to care deeply and repair instead of demand. Thus his apology feels so genuine.
Their intimacy is not built on certainty but on uncertainty bravely shared. Not on declarations, but on communication—hesitant, imperfect, but real. Not on fantasy, but on the courage to face each other without hiding. And that’s the common point between these two places in the air 
(chapter 45) (chapter 84) (chapter 84) Both men are not brave enough to confess their true feelings to their fated partner. Hence both came to regret their actions. 
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 46) The champion also played “dumb”. Thus the pillow got punched later. (chapter 84) He shouldn’t have thrown away his “feelings”. So by rubbing the hand of the toy, doc Dan is gradually expressing the return of “his greed and hope”.
The Ferris wheel becomes the place where foolishness and wisdom merge, where vulnerability replaces power, and where air itself begins to carry the shape of a future neither of them can yet name…but both can finally feel.
I was almost finished, when chapter 84 got released. Hence I could enrich the last part.
Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.
(chapter 82) Jinx-Lovers consider it as their first real date, a long-awaited moment of levity after so much pain. But perhaps we should pause and ask: why this place? 
(chapter 82) scattered on the table, one displays the Eiffel Tower — the obvious choice, symbol of mastery and control. Built for the Exposition Universelle of 1889, it was meant to celebrate France’s industrial power and the centenary of the Revolution — proof that bourgeoisie and steel, not kings and nobility, now ruled the sky and ground. It was even supposed to be dismantled after twenty years, yet it remained, and has since become the symbol of Paris and of France. A monument to progress, modernity, freedom, national pride and endurance. 
(chapter 38) Hence in the States he is here turning his back to the window and his only connection to others was through the cellphone. The cities he visited were backdrops, not experiences. He was always alone. And yet, here, something changes in Paris. 
(chapter 82) His hotel room opens onto a broad window and a balcony — an invitation to look out. Secondly, observe that he only proposed this activity after the other members had fallen sick. When doc Dan barged in his room, the champion was doing a one-handed handstand, holding his entire weight as if defying gravity itself 
(chapter 82) and proving his recovery. The posture seemed like control, yet it was closer to self-punishment — an immobility that devoured strength. Blood rushed to his heart and head, but his lungs stayed empty. It was, unconsciously, his way of treating his breathlessness. This also shows that he had no real expectation about the “rest” his manager had suggested 
(chapter 82) — the drinking, the empty and aimless trip (“check out the area”). For the wolf, such a downtime could only mean endurance, not release and excitement. By the way, such a suggestion from Park Namwook borders on stupidity and blindness. How could he propose drinking, when he had seen his “boy” indulged in alcohol before?
(chapter 54) I guess, he must have taken the celebrity’s words at face-value. But let’s return our attention to the panel with the brochures selected by the champion. If you look carefully, you will detect the presence of 4 stars. 
(chapter 82) How do I come to this interpretation? We have seen these stars before, during Kim Dan’s Summer Night’s Dream: the same glittering symbols of softness and excitement.
(chapter 44) Yet, this time, the little “stars” belong to the celebrity. 
(chapter 82) His choice of the amusement park is not really about himself and his desires— it is an act of care, a wish to give happiness to someone else.
, Sleeping Beauty 
and Beauty and the Beast 
).Hence there is the castle on the brochure. 
(chapter 82) For both, it was financially and emotionally out of question. It grounds the symbolism of the amusement park in social reality, reminding readers that “fun” is also a form of privilege. This means that the champion is actually on his way to replace this picture: 
(chapter 65) So yes, this may look like a simple date. Yet beneath its playful surface lies the quietest revolution of all: the man who once ignored every view now opens the window, looks outward, and chooses wonder and fun over war.
(chapter 81), but not about the geography and air. I had truly detected the importance of this image and its symbolism. The plane that opened this arc spoke not of luxury, but of altitude — of a life lived too high, where oxygen is rationed by pride. Below the aircraft stretch the Alps, which I had correctly identified. From there flows the athlete’s own water – Evian 
(chapter 82) (written Evien in the manhwa) — drawn from the mountain that sustains him and starves him at once.
(chapter 81): the rising smoke, the suggestion of a light already suffocated. The higher they bring him, the closer he moves to extinction. Besides, the higher he climbs, the harder the fall. In other words, they are trying to break him — to make him fall — something the athlete has already sensed. 
(chapter 82) 
(chapter 82) — a creature of heights and thin air, born to dominate the skies where others can barely breathe. The metaphor could not be clearer: altitude is his arena, but also his undoing. 
(chapter 81) The air remains clear and generous, the sky washed in blue as if nothing could go wrong. Yet the trees, touched by the first copper tones, announce the slow turn of the year. It is a calm, lucid atmosphere, the kind of weather that hides transition inside serenity. The unseen Seine glides through the city like a long breath, steady and effortless.
(chapter 82), to build joy outside the ring 
(chapter 82) 
(chapter 81) A single breath — huu — escapes, white against the air. It looks like calm, but it isn’t. It’s the sound of a man forcing his body to obey. The clenched fist that follows betrays him: anxiety condensed into muscle. 
(chapter 81) The champion has descended, yet the altitude still lives inside him.
(chapter 14), but his lungs and heart. Yet at the airport, the sportsman doesn’t realize it 
and makes the following resolution: 
(chapter 69) Back then, he feared for doc Dan’s life and ran as if his own heart depended on it. His breathlessness wasn’t exhaustion but panic: the instinctive terror of losing the person who keeps him alive. Thus when he saw him alive on the dock, he could start breathing properly: 
(chapter 69) From HUFF to HAA… exhale versus inhale.
(chapter 82) His brain and heart remember that night at the dock; every harsh inhale during practice echoes that same dread of separation.
(chapter 82) And how did the champion respond to that provocation? Like a cornered animal. 
(chapter 82) He became the wolf again, not out of jealousy, but out of survival reflex—his body screaming its panic in place of words. In that instant, he was reminded that he could lose doc Dan as a partner, that the bond he relies on might not belong to him forever.. The roar emptied his chest; his lungs gave out before his pride did. There was no air left in his body… thus the heart and lung couldn’t work properly. 
(chapter 75) The fearsome beast who once fought for dominance is gone. What remains is a tamed wolf, following his master’s voice (doc Dan) — not out of submission, but because he finally trusts where it leads. 
(chapter 82) He is now a tamed wolf following his master’s suggestions! 
(chapter 82) Thus the coach is now facing the couple. And now, my avid readers can understand why the champion seems almost radiant when he finds himself alone with doc Dan at the amusement park. It is not mere joy or freedom; it is the relief of finally acting from desire instead of duty 
(chapter 55) 
(chapter 79) The scene functions as both mirror and revelation: it forces the fighter to face the truth he has avoided all his life. In the past, he had never truly fallen. His defeats were painful, but never fatal; his failures never signified the end of a life. He could always stand up again — until now. Watching Kim Dan lean over the edge forces him to confront the difference between metaphor and mortality.
(chapter 73) – surrounded by bottles and syringes (chapter 73). Addiction, gambling, and intoxication: all ways of trying to rise above reality, to feel high, if only for a moment. Joo Jaewoong quite literally died from altitude, from chasing a false form of air. His father had tried to climb the social ladder through sport, to escape the poverty that trapped them, but he had failed. Those words 
(chapter 73), thrown like stones by the father at his son, buried themselves in the boy like shards.. They echoed like a curse — a prophecy Joo Jaekyung would spend his whole life disproving.
(chapter 72) 
(chapter 72), yet she made no attempt to build an independent life. Her survival had always depended on his success — and when his career crumbled, she vanished with it. That’s the reason why the trash remained uncollected — a visual proof of abandonment 
(chapter 72) But the little boy failed to notice it, because he was suffering from the father’s abuse. Before leaving, she gave her son a phone number, as if absence were only temporary, as if love could be reached through a dial tone. That small gesture sustained an illusion: that she would come back if he became strong enough, rich enough, worthy enough. That illusion became the foundation of his life.
(chapter 72) His first fight was not about trophies — it was an act of filial negotiation: a promise to buy her return. But of course, 300 dollars could not rebuild a family. His first fall became the confirmation of her silence. This explicates why he recalls his first tournament and considers it as “fall”. He had not been able to win, thus the mother could not return. He doesn’t fight for glory or passion; he fights to avoid being discarded again. So, when he says “I won’t fall again,” what he really means is “I won’t let myself be unloved again.” 
(chapter 72) But the problem is that when he was finally able to reach his mother, the latter answered that Joo Jaekyung was too late. The mother’s words sealed the curse. He was “already grown up now” 
(chapter 74), hence he no longer needed her — as if maturity meant he no longer needed love. She actually implied that she had been all this time by his side. 
(chapter 74), while in reality, she had long abandoned him. Her departure turned growth into punishment, and independence into exile. This explicates why as an adult, he used money to buy people and turn them into toys. This could only make appear as a spoiled brat. 
(chapter 79) Even Park Namwook himself, only days earlier, had described the French match as 
(chapter 81) “a breeze” — a fight so effortless that it would bring some fresh air into the champion’s career. But that metaphor betrays its irony: what was supposed to refresh him is now suffocating him. The “breeze” promised by his manager has turned into lack of air.
(chapter 70) — a detail no one around him ever learned. This simple fact overturns their interpretation. 
(chapter 70) The breathlessness they see now is not a decline in performance, but the residue of transformation. His body, once trained to suppress every weakness, had finally surrendered to nature.
(chapter 46), whose clash with the champion exposes two different forms of frustration.
(chapter 46) He reproaches Seonho for using his title and image to promote himself, for bragging about their sparring sessions to boost his career. From his perspective, Seonho lacks both endurance and authenticity — he performs strength rather than living it. 
(chapter 46) For Jaekyung, such behavior is intolerable because it cheapens everything he has sacrificed to achieve.
(chapter 46) He turns on Jaekyung and accuses him of arrogance — of using his champion title to look down on others. What Seonho perceives as disdain is, in truth, the athlete’s defense mechanism. The star’s detachment is not born from pride but from obligation and trauma (abandonment issues). 
(chapter 46) His perfection is not freedom; it is captivity.
(chapter 52) tried to recruit Potato, the youngest member from Team Black. He wanted to become the new idol of Hwang Yoon-Gu. He imagined that he could replace the main lead and Potato would be happy to become the new sparring partner of Seonho. 
(chapter 82) — a beauty that glides but never lands. Like Seonho, Gabriel thrives on appearance — on surfaces polished by attention. His beauty, elegance, and social charisma are his weapons. He lives in the air of visibility, relying on wind — the shifting currents of social media 
(chapter 81) 
(chapter 82) and press coverage — to lift his name higher. That’s why Mingwa made sure to show him at the press conference. 
(chapter 82) Every post, every camera flash, every headline serves as borrowed oxygen. 
(chapter 82) Yet beneath that composure lies dependency. Gabriel’s power exists only as long as others keep watching, as long as the wind keeps blowing. His world is made of altitude — but the higher one flies, the thinner the air becomes. But if there is no wind or air, the eagle can no longer fly. This is palpable on two occasions, his encounter with the two male leads. 
(chapter 82) The grin that follows is one of self-satisfaction and superficiality, not connection. It’s the smile of a man admiring his own reflection in another’s confusion — proof that he controls both the scene and the gaze. This shows that he had no intention to make the protagonist jealous. And it is clear that he never saw the wolf’s rage afterwards. 
(chapter 82) That way, his “vulnerability” would be masked. No one would question the champion’s health. And this brings me to my next observation. 
(chapter 70). Both men embody the same cruelty disguised as professionalism — one in the ring, the other from the shadows. They blame the champion for the new match, none of them question the system. 
(chapter 36) or the media’s harsh verdicts after defeat 
(chapter 54), when analysts accused Jaekyung of recklessness for returning to the ring too soon, though he had problems with his shoulder. Gabriel’s fame soars above such storms — sustained by admiration, not endurance. Hence he is posting selfies.
(chapter 82) He is now seen signing autographs 
(chapter 82), whereas in the past, he was only seen in company of reporters in a secluded area. 
(chapter 40) 
(chapter 69) The victory would be branded as hollow, a publicity stunt rather than an athletic achievement. 
(chapter 82) first unveiled at the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, was created to transform height into play. Conceived by engineer George Washington Ferris as America’s answer to the Parisian tower, it sought to outshine France not through steel alone, but through motion — a structure that would rise and fall, carrying ordinary people with it. Unlike the fixed tower, the wheel invited participation: passengers would move together, share the air, rise and descend without fear. It was both monument and moment — a way to democratize the sky.
Here the athlete has only one goal: talk to doc Dan and clean the air. He has no intention to truly rekindle with him 
Thus he is still stuck in a traffic jam. 
Here, there is a progression, because he can switch the lane. However, he is still driving in one direction, not looking out of the window. He is not taking his time either. These scenes illustrate the champion’s psychological confinement and mirror doc Dan’s mindset as well.
(chapter 75)
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 80) He has not grasped that he can make the champion happy. In fact, this day would represent a real break and rest, as they would learn nothing, only make new experiences so that life can appear colorful again. Here, we can see two balloons in the form of heart: green and yellow. 
(chapter 52) a kid versus a grown-up, both rejected and silenced. 
(chapter 74) Joo Jaekyung would have achieved his goal: even vulnerable or childish, he is still lovable. 
(chapter 41) They were destined to be together and lived happily. 
(chapter 55)
(chapter 13) 
(chapter 40) to Baek Junmin’s red blaze 
(chapter 48) — had mirrored faces, two bodies, two lights. This time, there is only one. The duel has vanished. What remains looks less like a fight and more like a myth in the making. 
(chapter 81) chosen to face the Emperor. According to Oh Daehyun, this man is fighting for the title of the hottest male athlete in the world. 
(chapter 14) Why is there this abbreviation? Why does the image proclaim a return while simultaneously concealing the full title? What does it signify? 
seems to be corroborated: this event doesn’t announce the glorious comeback it pretends to be, but a carefully staged trap. However, there is more to it. The longer I examine the composition 
(chapter 81) According to Oh Daehyun, his goal is not victory but visibility — to be crowned the hottest male athlete. 
(chapter 30) The latter had to learn fighting in order to play his role in the drama Extreme Worlds 
(chapter 29). 
(chapter 8) His eagle is spreading his wings in front of his god, the sun, attempting to fly closer to the sun. According to me, Joo Jaekyung is the sun. This explains the loyalty of this purple belt fighter toward the protagonist! 
(chapter 47) But that’s one possibility among others, one thing is sure. Oh Daehyun will play an important part during their stay in France.
(chapter 46) People would bet on him and win… they needed him to lose and break his “lucky streak”. In other words, the organization betrayed the body they once sold. They had prepared the fall long before the injury, the surgery, or the suspension. But their plan failed. Despite every setback, the wolf remained beloved at home. People still admired him, not for the trophies, but for his kindness 
(chapter 62), humility 
and strength 
(chapter 62) In other words, what the champion did in the seaside town had a huge impact in his life and world. He lingered in the hearts of those he touched. He was not a fallen idol, nor a forgotten champion, but a living memory — proof that integrity leaves deeper marks than victory ever could. To conclude, his fame no longer comes from spectacle only but also from empathy and presence — from the very qualities the schemers and media system fail to grasp.
(chapter 81) The new battlefield is the face. Under this light, Jinx-philes will grasp why the agents from the Entertainment agency were so zealous in defending the star’s reputation. If he were to lose his good looks, they would lose one of their most profitable clients. 
(chapter 52), whose envy of beauty turned into a creed. Imagine this. Now he holds the championship belt, yet no one admires him. His ruined face became the excuse for his bitterness,
(chapter 52) and his rival the embodiment of everything he lost. He had to flee to Thailand to claim glory and admiration 
(chapter 69), only to discover that ownership without recognition is hollow. Even with the title, his name barely circulates in the media. 
(chapter 77) MFC can not promote him so easily, as his title could get questioned. He remains unseen — a champion without a face.
(chapter 52) In the past, his insult 
(chapter 74) merged anger with heat; now that very “hotness” materializes in the media and poster as smoke, an image of resentment turned into atmosphere. 
(chapter 74): the visible trace of a man who dares to rebel. He once watched the fighter smoke a plain cigarette and sneered at him for it, precisely because he knew it was not a joint. In Junmin’s world, violation meant courage and power intoxication. He assumed that fearlessness linked to drugs would bring admiration and success. Jaekyung’s refusal to accept their drug wasn’t prudence; it was, to him, an insult — a quiet act of superiority. The wolf’s restraint exposed his indifference and own dependency, and that humiliation still burns.
(chapter 74) The main lead was seen “wearing a black suit with three white strips” showing that he was the chief mourner. 
(chapter 74) Once you recognize this 
(chapter 74) The dense, rising smoke recalls the funeral altar we once saw during Joo Jaewoon’s death scene — white blossoms, a dark frame, and a half-erased face. The emperor’s comeback has been reframed as his own commemoration: a legend embalmed in monochrome. 
(chapter 73), hiding behind his hyungs, the mobsters who granted him borrowed strength and false belonging. Joo Jaekyung, by contrast, was raised in the ring — the gym shaped him as both a professional and a person.
(chapter 49) If you have read my previous essay, you’ll remember that I connected the arc of chapters 80 to 89 to the theme of jealousy. Baek Junmin embodies that poison completely. His words — “ 
(chapter 49) “kid”, “coward,” “chicken” 
(chapter 73) Both men are haunted by the same delusion: that to win, one must erase the other.
(chapter 79) And the hamster followed the wolf’s request. This explicates why Potato is wearing a knee support brace — a sign that he is now tending to his own injuries without the doctor’s assistance. 
(chapter 81) It is a subtle but telling detail: the physical separation mirrors the emotional boundary now forming within the team. The healer’s hands have been withdrawn. So the emperor’s empathy is incomplete, hence he is only EMP. It extends only toward his chosen one — the doctor — and not yet to the others around him. True empathy, however, cannot be selective; it must reach beyond intimacy to encompass even those who do not stand at the center of affection.
(chapter 1) He was a beast of destruction, someone who made sure to crush his opponents without mercy 
(chapter 15) Unstoppable in his rage, he moved like a man possessed — bloodthirsty, unrelenting, fighting not for glory but for survival. Each strike was a declaration: I will not die.
(chapter 38) The doctor, too, has always been associated with clouds: soft, elusive, shifting with emotion. Thus I deduce that their paths will inevitably cross, dream and danger meeting in vapor and light. But more importantly, I perceive the smoke as a reference to the rising of doc Dan as physical therapist. 
(chapter 81) The team’s black-and-white uniform 
(chapter 81)
(chapter 49) What looked like teamwork was mere coordination. Now, the visual disarray hides emotional harmony — the perfect yin-yang inversion of their past selves.
(chapter 36) One could think, the other members are not wearing it, for they don’t want to be associated with the champion. He has been stigmatized as a thug or a child losing his temper, the consequences of Park Namwook’s badmouthing. However, observe that even the star is not wearing it. 
(chapter 36) What once symbolized sponsorship and solidarity has quietly disappeared. The explanation seems obvious at first: the loss of commercial partners following scandal and suspension. 
(chapter 54) Yet the deeper implication is far more unsettling. The jacket was more than a uniform; it was a contract, a visible bond between fighter and system. Its absence signals abandonment. The champion may still fight under the MFC banner, but the federation no longer claims him with pride. He is now a free agent trapped in an invisible cage — tolerated, not trusted. He questioned MFC and their competence (see chapter 67 and 69).
(chapter 37) He could be mistaken for the owner of the gym or a person involved in the scheme. And this leads me to my next observation: the champion’s picture and posture!
(chapter 36) no cheering spectators — nothing recalls the hero’s welcomes of earlier arcs.
(chapter 74) but with a different public.
(chapter 47) Thus, 317 functions like a counterfeit signature — convincing enough to deceive even those inside the organization. What looks like promotion turns out to be execution by design, a fight that exists on paper but not on record. Hence no one is waiting for them at the airport. 
(chapter 54), the match where the Emperor faced Baek Junmin. That small arithmetic gap hides something extraordinary: eighteen events have supposedly taken place since then, in barely three months. Such acceleration borders on absurdity. It feels less like a sports calendar than a purge — as if the federation were rushing to overwrite history, to bury the memory of its fallen champion beneath a flood of new numbers.
(chapter 16), the moment Heo Manwook thought that the “hamster” was working as an escort due to the name “Team Black”. 
(chapter 16) So because of the jacket Team Black, doc Dan could be mistaken for a prostitute. Naturally, Jinx-lovers will remember the great fight between Heo Manwook and his minions, when the athlete saved his fated partner. Back then, no one discovered his great action.
(Chapter 17) And how did the loan shark describe their world? Fake… he even called him a princeling, because he stands for the glamor and artificiality of MFC. He is the cover for the underground fights, drugs and money laundering. This connection reinforces my interpretation that the future match is « fake » and as such rigged. Then in chapter 37, the hamster met a Korean disguised as a MFC manager. 
(chapter 47) In the past, they participated in the underground matches of Gangwon Province, where Baek Junmin reigned as a local legend — a thug made myth through blood and rumor. 
(chapter 46), as they didn’t want to lose money. And what did Park Namwook say in episode 46? 
(chapter 46) But now, the same hunger for spectacle has simply migrated upward. What once belonged to the alleys has climbed into the penthouses. The illegal thrill of the poor has become the curated decadence of the rich. And they were invited to witness the death of the “emperor”, someone who tried to escape from his origins. Thus I deduced that this is only a match that the high rollers (I suppose, mostly people from the Occident, though expect some from South Korea) know about.
(chapter 81), breathing without bracing, learning that flow is strength. The author placed the swimming lessons here so we’d see him practice calm under pressure before he performs it in the ring. But observe that when he is in the swimming pool, he is expressing more and more his emotions. 
(chapter 81) At the same time, he is also incited to control his pulsions and body. 
(chapter 81) In other words, during the swimming lessons, he was encouraged to find the right balance between instincts and control, which Bruce Lee recommended. It is no coincidence that he referred to the philosophy of yin and yang! 
(chapter 36) The pool inverts it. Laps replace lunges; rhythm and love replace revenge and hatred. Anger loses its grip because water refuses to hold it. And now, you can grasp why the athlete was calm during the meeting: 
(chapter 81) His fear and anger were no longer controlling his heart and mind. “One of the best lessons you can learn in life is to remain calm.” The swimmer learns it; the fighter must now prove it. Thanks to doc Dan, the athlete was incited not only to accept himself, but also to get self-knowledge.
(chapter 81) Arnaud Gabriel is totally unpredictable which makes him dangerous but also weak. So what happens when the athlete uses a totally different strategy? The eagle will get caught by surprise. Thus in the past, we have to envision that the wolf was the mechanical man, iron and fire, surviving by destruction. Bruce Lee’s middle path—instinct guided by awareness—is the only way out of this binary. That’s why the story moves him from steel to steam, from panic to presence.
(chapter 62), and you are in a state of constant learning. 
(chapter 80) The seaside town and doc Dan taught him kindness, the pool teaches him composure and precision, the poster’s smoke teaches him restraint: you don’t swat at vapor; you breathe and move through it. “It is far better to be alone than to be in bad company”—so he steps out of the schemers’ frame. “When you accept yourself, the whole world accepts you”—so he stops fighting the audience and starts speaking to one person who matters, then to many. In my opinion, Joo Jaekyung will use this bout to express his feelings for Doc Dan (“to me, martial arts means expressing yourself“) and the birthday card 
8chapter 81) Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the athlete has not confessed his feelings yet. In my eyes, the confession will be strongly connected to the imminent match. In other words, by spending time with the physical therapist, the Emperor regained his voice and body. He can now express himself in the ring, making sure to catch doc Dan’s gaze and admiration. And now, you comprehend why I mentioned that Joo Jaekyung will come to see this fight as a source of strength and inspiration: it will be more about love and recognition from his loved one than the money or hatred from the audience.
, I came to imagine that the athlete might strike him like “water”, hard enough to make him lose the balance and defeat him, but not too strong to damage his knee for good. 
(chapter 17) And once the cloud (doc Dan) meets the steam 
(chapter 76) This admission is no mere reversal of pride. It gestures toward something Jaekyung has never known: an exchange that does not end in domination or silence, but in dialogue. For Kim Dan, too, it marks a turning point. 
(chapter 76) For the first time, he uses the expression you’re right in front of his fated partner. He seems to concede with this idiom. Yet this apparent submission hides a deeper reversal. By admitting Jaekyung never asked for his help, he redirects the exchange toward his own truth: the loneliness of having no one to care for you. 
(chapter 76) What unfolds in the kitchen is not a quarrel about porridge but a fragile recognition. Dan’s “You’re right” acknowledges Jaekyung’s perspective without bitterness, while Jaekyung’s “I lost” 
(chapter 9) 
(chapter 76) The kitchen scene closes one cycle and announces another. 
(Chapter 76) In this view, his fixation would be the product of ambition, pride, or ego: the expected cost of survival in a cage where only victory pays. 
(chapter 76), because the adults in his life cut them off before they could exist. Winning became his only mode of survival because every formative argument in his youth ended in defeat, and not the kind decided by a referee. With his father, mother, coach, and manager, words never led to recognition — only to insult, silence, utility, or obedience. He learned early that dialogue could not protect him; only victory could. His victories were not chosen freely, but forced into being by guardians who made him feel like a burden, until relationships themselves became burdens.
(chapter 73) He was a loser because of his mother. To lose meant humiliation and rejection; to speak at all meant to invite contempt. The only possible rebuttal was victory — to prove through strength that he was not the pathetic, worthless child his father saw in him. Winning became his sole argument against a man who would never listen, the only way to resist being branded a loser. 
“(chapter 73). It was not just defiance; it was a vow that victory would silence abuse once and for all. When he returned with the trophy, he shouted triumphantly, 
(chapter 73) ready at last to claim, “I was right.” Yet reality betrayed him. His father’s death denied him the only acknowledgment he had sought. 
(chapter 74) At the funeral he remained dry-eyed, his face locked in shame (ch. 74). No one saw his guilt, but it consumed him: the one man he needed to hear “I was right” from could no longer answer. At the same time, his smile and laugh were also linked to misery. For Jaekyung, laughter was never the sound of joy, but the echo of mockery and rejection due to the father. Just as tears became tied to betrayal and abandonment through his mother, so too did his father twist laughter into a weapon 
(chapter 74) But when the calls went unanswered, her silence became the sharpest weapon of all. Her eventual reply 
(chapter 74), his tears expressed not just grief but the recognition of betrayal. From then on, tears themselves became equated with loss, weakness, and abandonment. This is why, in the wolf’s nightmare, Dan’s crying form 
(chapter 76) appears: the sight of tears recalls the moment he unconsciously realized that even his mother’s “you’re right” was a lie. At the same time, those tears function as a mirror. The champion projects onto Dan the very weakness he has always forbidden himself to show. 
(chapter 76), the boy he once was who longed to weep but had to swallow it down. At the same time, Jaekyung himself occupies the place of the “adult” — 
(chapter 74)
(chapter 76) His trembling hand upon waking 
(chapter 76) shows the yearning to be held, comforted, reassured — something he never received from either parent. He is not entirely responsible for the physical therapist’s suffering. And here lies the difference: Dan’s tears are not manipulative or hypocritical , like the ones Jaekyung suspects from his mother, but unfiltered honesty. He expressed his emotions, not just through tears, but also through body language! 
(chapter 1) He was shaking, he was bowing and asking for forgiveness! Dan embodies a form of vulnerability that is real, legible, and forgiving contrary to the mother. When the teenager heard his mother’s voice after such a long time, the latter never brought up her past action. She never asked him for forgiveness. 
(chapter 74), whose quiet devotion and silence kept the gym alive, nor Jaekyung’s, whose absence he accepted without challenge. 
(chapter 72) In fact, his own mother’s submission reinforced this flaw: her blind trust in her son, her refusal to question his choices and the boxing world, taught him that authority need not be examined, only endured or seen as trustworthy. For him, hierarchy was unquestionable, and so he perpetuated it. Thus he stands for lack of critical thinking. This is why, with Hwang, the vocabulary of “right” and “wrong” was never about dialogue but about obedience. No wonder why he became so violent at the police station. 
(chapter 74) Unlike Jaewoon’s domination or the mother’s evasive silence, Hwang cloaked his authority in the language of advice — yet beneath it lay a black-and-white dualism: winners and losers, villains and victims. Thus Joo Jaewoon was blamed for becoming a thug 
(chapter 74), while the wolf’s mother was a victim. He viewed her as a selfless and caring mother: 
(chapter 74)And observe how he provoked the main lead. 
(chapter 74) When Hwang sneers, “What, am I wrong? Come on, answer me!” he is not inviting dialogue — he is staging a trap. The question is rhetorical, a demand for submission. Let’s not forget that he had witnessed the phone call in front of the funeral hall, but back then he had done nothing. And when the boy hesitates 
(chapter 74), unable to answer, Hwang strikes him in the chest. 
(chapter 74)and justifies his action behind social norms. 
(chapter 74) In that instant, he takes the role of judge, referee, and executioner, collapsing “argument” into violence. The very words “Am I wrong?” contain the irony: the coach is less interested in truth than in reasserting his own authority. Silence is treated as guilt, hesitation as defeat.
(chapter 74), he effectively admitted “you’re right” to the coach. Yet this wasn’t simply genuine agreement — it was submission, respect mixed with survival. The director misread it as validation of his worldview. This only reinforced his certainty, encouraging him never to reconsider his role. 
(chapter 74) When the protagonist finally left, the director could declare with satisfaction: 
t(chapter 74). 
(chapter 74) The reality was that the old man had never truly become the star’s home and family, which explains why he constantly leaned on other adults, the mother or the father, to provide the guidance he himself refused to give. At the same time, I come to the following deduction: he must have lost his boxing studio, and with its vanishing, the elder was forced to face “reality”: loneliness, sickness and absence of happiness in his life! 
(chapter 70) Once again, Jaekyung is reduced to “that bastard” — a label, not a person — while Dan is framed as the pitiable victim. The old coot remains the righteous observer, untouched by guilt, protected by a rhetoric that always shifts responsibility elsewhere.
(chapter 75) He was happy again, though he initially tried to hide it. We have to envision that before the wolf’s visit, the elder had to face what his own life outside the gym looked like: sickness, solitude, the collapse of the studio that had sustained him and came to resent the main lead. Yet, Joo Jaekyung’s behavior changed everything: 
(chapter 71) 
(chapter 71) Only during the champion’s visit, did his words alter.On the rooftop of the hospice, he finally tells Jaekyung: 
(chapter 75) This shift did not come from wisdom gained in the ring but from loss — the loss of health, the loss of the gym, the loss of illusions — and from Jaekyung’s loyalty, which pierced through his blindness. Interesting is that this time, he doesn’t give the answer to the athlete. He stops thinking “I’m right, you’re wrong”. He treats him as an adult, as a mature and thoughtful person. Through that fidelity, Hwang glimpsed at last what he had denied both himself and Jaekyung for decades: that victory alone cannot sustain a life.
(chapter 76) It is not too late. The question “Am I too late?” is the consequence of Hwang byungchul’s words and it gradually indicates the switch in the champion’s mentality. It is no longer about being right or wrong. However, the nightmare reveals another aspect: the world is not black and white, but grey. 
(chapter 76) Hence he remained silent and avoided his gaze. But like the director showed it, it is never too late: 
(chapter 76)
(chapter 31) in good 
(chapter 45) or in bad times. It goes so far, he does not take his silences seriously, and does not register his pain. This explicates why the manager saw in the champion’s silence at the restaurant as an agreement for a new fight! 
(chapter 69) His role is not to guide or protect, but to extract: money, victories, publicity. 
(chapter 75) In my opinion, he is fighting against oblivion through the star. This hidden disability explains why the coach can never truly connect with the champion. He listens instead to other voices – the CEO of MFC 
(chapter 69), the rumors among the directors 
(chapter 46), the media 
(chapter 52), the sponsors 
(chapter 41), the spectators or “authorities”
(chapter 36) — and reacts to them, even violently, as in chapter 52, when public criticism painted Jaekyung in a negative light. 
(chapter 52) His question is not mere anger. It is a confession of position — an inadvertent acknowledgment that he knows he is the true backbone of the gym. He is the one responsible, the one carrying the burden that Namwook refuses to admit. These words crack the illusion: the fighter is not subordinate, but owner. The gym lives because of him.
(chapter 52) He acted as a child, faked “tears” in order to use empathy to his advantage. 
(chapter 71), hence he tried to help in his own way. On the other hand, Park Namwook shows clearly no sign to be interested in the private life of his boss. He is preferring ignorance over “knowledge and connection”. 
(chapter 66) Despite the incident, the manager hasn’t changed yet. He clinched onto the past, thinking that everything will be like before, as soon as the athlete enters the ring. He images a return to normality with the next match. 
(chapter 66) For years, he had accepted his manager’s judgments out of habit, mistaking silence for consent. But here, for the first time, the repetition feels deliberate — not resignation, but reflection (“though”). The phrase becomes a question more than an agreement: is he truly right? He is admitting this out of habit. 
(chapter 69) His silence has shifted from obedience to suffocation. The weight of Namwook’s deaf authority is no longer bearable. And yet, even here, his confession is muted, confined to the private space of his car. He is not yet ready to speak the words aloud — not until someone appears who will listen. 
(chapter 48) This scene was observed by Kwak Junbeom, so the latter could have reported it to the coach. If it truly happened, this would expose the coach’s deafness and cowardice. He chose passivity instead of confronting the doctor or the champion. That way, he avoided responsibility. And this brings me to my final conclusion concerning the deaf manager. His main way to contact the celebrity is the cellphone: 
(chapter 66) It is both his mask and his crutch — a tool for barking orders, never for dialogue. The moment the line goes dead, his authority collapses, for he has no other means of contact. His power depends on Jaekyung’s reception, not his own strength. In truth, the manager’s disability is exposed here: deaf to Jaekyung’s voice, he has trained himself to hear only the ring of a phone. A fragile authority built on silence, ready to crumble the instant Jaekyung decides to switch it off.
(chapter 76) must be read not as pride, but as a desperate shield against annihilation. In other words, in episode 76, the athlete is too harsh on himself, though I am not saying that he is innocent either. He only thought of himself because he had taught to behave that way. He was just mirroring the adults surrounding him who hid their weaknesses and wrongdoings behind “lies, social norms and hierarchy”. 
(chapter 57) With his grandmother and with every authority he encountered — doctors, employers, even predators — he believed unquestioningly that others were right and he was wrong. Hence he trusted others blindly. He was trained to accept decisions made for him or against him. 
(chapter 70) Thus he accepts criticism with defending his own interest. He was not taught how to fight back or resist or even argue. 
(chapter 1) He never tried to seek justice. His “you’re right” was not recognition but submission, the language of someone who could not afford to resist. In season one, this made their relationship combustible: Jaekyung spoke only in victory and as such submission, while Dan accepted every loss as natural. He also adopted this mind-set. On the other hand, because their initial interaction was based on a contract, 
(chapter 6), both were forced to discuss with each other about the “content of the agreement”. That’s where the champion was trained to communciate with the physical therapist. Thanks to the champion, because of this victory/loss mentality, the doctor learned gradually to argue and “reply” with his “boss. However, due to his childhood, he couldn’t totally drop his old principles like for example “saying no”. 
(chapter 34) To conclude, before their fateful meeting, neither man had learned how to argue as equals. But in the kitchen in front of the stove, this changed: both are right and wrong! 
(chapter 76) He speaks like someone expecting rejection. Hence he keeps his distance. Yet the very fact that he says it at all signals change. Where once he would have doubled down — by barking an order, by firing Dan, by retreating into silence — he now admits defeat. The vocabulary of winning and losing, inherited from his father and reinforced by every adult in his life, collapses in the presence of Dan’s quiet honesty.
(chapter 76) — an acknowledgment that he can no longer keep his walls intact. He is now willing to rely on doc Dan exclusively.
(chapter 76). His confession reveals not strength but guilt. Kim Dan’s suffering was the price of his victories, and he knows it. “On the other hand, his mea culpa should be relativized, for both were the targets of a plot!
(chapter 76) These words expose both responsibility and shame: he had prioritized survival over connection, career over compassion. What boils under his skin is not pride but remorse.
(chapter 76) The star’s thoughts in the kitchen are actually mirroring the ones in the bathroom: 
(chapter 68) In the bathtub, he still saw himself as the one in control, with the upper hand… but this is no longer the case in the kitchen. Through the physical therapist, the wolf is learning that even being in a vulnerable state doesn’t mean that this person is powerless. It is just that his “strength” lies elsewhere. In other words, someone struggling can also give comfort to another person in pain. 
(chapter 72) a place of solitary consumption rather than shared meals, the bed was the place where the little boy would drink his milk. 
(chapter 72) It is interesting that actually, Doc Dan wanted to bring the porridge to Joo Jaekyung to his bed during that full moon night, thus the latter made the following request: 
(chapter 76) But the wolf didn’t understand the hamster’s intention and followed his “hyung” to the kitchen. That’s how a misunderstanding was born which is also reflected in this interaction:
(chapter 76) However, doc Dan agreed to this, he remained calm. 
(chapter 41) The latter actually represented a hindrance between them, it marked their relationship: boss and “employee” (servant). Moreover, since the table in the champion’s childhood was linked to one person (the father), it is clear that the champion has never shared a table with someone. And this aspect brings me to my other observation. 
(chapter 22) Whether in meetings, weigh-ins, or dinners with the CEO 
(chapter 46) It was a place where others dictated terms, while Jaekyung’s silence was mistaken for consent. And now, you comprehend why the two main leads could get closer in front of the stove in the kitchen. This place stands for warmth, care and family. 
(chapter 13) a meal after his collapse. He refused to bring a meal to the bed, he asked him to join in the dining room and sit at the table. And what did they do there? The champion talked about his career, his fight etc… 
(chapter 13) the champion has long associated the table to business and not “care”. That’s why it is important for him to remember the significance of the bed in his childhood. It was the place where he could feel comfortable and safe, where he would eat! 
(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), Hwang Byungchul’s anger fell squarely on the champion. 
(Chapter 70) created the illusion that this break had been perceived as a punishment, and that Jaekyung was eager to prove himself once again. No wonder the director assumed he had given his consent.
(chapter 69) By erasing these details, the public sees only two players: the Emperor and his anonymous “team.” 
(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 05). He has been chasing after his fated partner. Finally, he hasn’t even signed any paper or agreed at the meeting. In fact, he remained silent for the most part of the time and the reason for this urgent meeting was his request for proper investigation concerning the switched spray: 
(chapter 67) That’s the reason why this suggestion from the CEO appeared the very next day. 
(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 57), a stock photo already used in other press pieces. This picture comes from after the fight in the States: 
(chapter 41), while the image released with the fall match announcement was the one from when he first won his champion title. 
(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 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 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 41) Observe how the manager is acting here. He is speaking, touching the star like his prize and possession. The Emperor became the merchandise, the illusion, the bait to draw both viewers and fighters. However, being “labeled as genius” can only push desperate fighters to take a short-cut: bribes and drugs. Hence Seonho couldn’t last a whole round. 
(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 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 70) and more like a product: something to be displayed, sold, and, when necessary, handled roughly to keep in line. The shift in labels is just another layer of that merchandising process — a packaging change to suit the current market, not a recognition of the man inside. To conclude, the champion has always been voiceless all this time, even here: 
(chapter 36)
(chapter 73) Six years earlier, however, his voice had already been battered by silence. After his mother’s abandonment at age six, the only connection he retained with her was a phone number —
(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 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
. In this way, the curse that began when his voice was silenced and his hands were weaponized will only be broken when those same hands learn to speak tenderness. Look how doc Dan reacted to his public embrace: 
(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 55) 
(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 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 13) Observe that this name is a combination between Hwang Byungchul and Baek Junmin! Under this light, my avid readers can grasp why the athlete kept his existence in the dark for so long! It is because the latter belongs to his past and knows the truth behind the Emperor! He was aware of his suffering. For him, he is not just a fighter, but someone who needed FUN in his life! 
(chapter 65) corresponds to the release of Jinx Chapter 70, which marked the series’ return after a three-month hiatus. This observation is more than clever numerology—it mirrors the manhwa’s deeper message: the past always haunts the present, and at times, it even foreshadows the future. And that’s exactly what I will do in this essay. I propose that the key to understanding the protagonists and characters’ evolving identities lies in the overlooked architectural and administrative details—especially the house numbers, door placements, and legal ownership of space. These seemingly minor visual cues are in fact loaded with meaning, offering insight into how home, memory, and identity are fragmented and reassigned across time and place.
(chapter 57) The landlord’s house has the number 33-3. Why do two neighboring houses bear such disconnected numbers: 7-12 and 33-3? 
(chapter 61) For readers unfamiliar with Korea, this looks quite bizarre. In most European and American countries, street addresses follow a linear order; house number 12 would typically be located between 10 and 14. But in Korea, especially in rural areas, many towns use the older jibeon (지번) land-lot numbering system. Here, numbers are based not on street sequence but on the chronological order of land registration and subsequent subdivisions.
(chapter 62), newer developments, or administrative restructuring rather than deep-rooted inheritance. In this context, a higher subdivision number implies not only later division, but also the erosion of legacy and the weakening of kinship-based territorial claims—an erosion especially poignant in the context of Confucian traditions that once emphasized multi-generational cohabitation and patrilineal inheritance. In classical Korean society, a home was not merely a shelter but a physical emblem of familial continuity, with ancestral rites often performed within the same household across generations. As addresses fragment and land parcels divide, so too does the symbolic structure of the family unit. The once-cohesive ideal of the extended household dissolves into isolated, rented spaces, reflecting not only economic realities but also the fraying of intergenerational bonds and filial authority.
(chapter 61) Though Jaekyung is a wealthy celebrity, he inhabits a parcel of land that speaks to impermanence and anonymity. Meanwhile, Dan shares space with someone who quietly represents legacy and transparency.
(chapter 62) However, this “dynamic” (distinction) began to shift the moment Jaekyung started working for the local residents. 
(chapter 62) No longer just a “guest” or a “tourist,” he earned their recognition and acceptance through acts of service and humility. 
(chapter 62) As he helped them with manual tasks—such as lifting goods or assisting the elderly—they started seeing him not as an outsider, but as one of their own. However, it is important to note that these gestures of inclusion occurred while Jaekyung was outside the blue gate 
(chapter 62) —beyond the formal boundary of the rental property. 
(chapter 62) Nevertheless, the best sign that he has been accepted by the community is when he received traditional welcome gifts: the toilet paper and detergent. 
(chapter 69) [For more read 
(chapter 65), the elderly neighbor chose to open the blue gate shortly after: 
(chapter 69) Thus I deduce that the blue gate lost its purpose. The champion definitely saw the advantages of the absence of a gate by his neighbor. He could arrive there at any moment 
(chapter 62) and the landlord never rejected him. In fact, he was always welcome. 
(chapter 66)
(chapter 59), and townspeople instinctively report Dan’s behavior to him. 
(chapter 69) I would like to point out that the kind man said “villagers” and not “villager”, a sign that he was contacted by many people. Such recognition is reserved for those woven into the community’s long memory.
(chapter 61) Given that the rural address system is based on the older jibeon model—and most GPS systems now rely on the newer road-based address format— it is unlikely that Jaekyung could have located Dan’s home through navigation alone. 
(chapter 61) That’s the reason why the author included this scene. Even if someone had disclosed Dan’s address, the GPS in Jaekyung’s luxury car would not have been able to guide him there. Like mentioned above, the streets have no names, and the numbering lacks logical sequence. Thus, we have to envision how the Emperor followed Dan on foot, observing where he went. In doing so, he not only located the general vicinity. Afterwards, he must have contacted a local and requested for a vacant house close to 33-3. That’s how he found the “hostel” right next door. 
– chapter 69) and walking through the confusion himself.
(chapter 65) Though she insists this seaside town is where she “grew up,” she never identifies a lot number, street, or ancestral parcel. In a rural system where numbers are more than logistical—they are signs of rootedness and intergenerational presence—her vagueness stands out. Everyone else is connected to a numbered gate, a registry, or a mailbox. She alone floats in narrative space, clinging to emotional claims without material proof: no concrete location is brought up. 
(chapter 57) The contrast becomes sharper when she refers to Seoul only in generic terms. She never mentions a district, 
(chapter 56), a neighborhood, or specific location. This lack of detail, especially when juxtaposed with the specificity of the rural jibeon system (where even a subdivision number implies lineage and ownership), exposes her rootlessness. It reinforces the idea that her ties to place are performative rather than grounded. Even her nostalgia for Seoul is flattened 
(chapter 65) into a symbol of urban superiority—money, prestige, modernity—without anchoring it to a real “home.” In short, she idealizes Seoul the way she romanticizes the countryside—selectively, superficially. At the same time, she is giving the impression that she is erasing her stay in Seoul, as if her past there, too, is unmoored. Because of this observation, I realized why the nurse never questioned the senior’s statement. 
(chapter 56), though she expressed some doubt. By asking for more details, she imagined that she could touch a sensitive topic, like for example loss of her home etc. Shin Okja‘s inability—or refusal—to locate herself within a concrete building and specific numbered system of belonging hints at a deeper truth: Shin Okja may perform the role of native and guardian 
(chapter 17) As Jinx-lovers can detect, next to the entrance of her apartment, there is no blue house number plate or street name. How is that possible in a metropolis where every residence should be digitally registered? And now, pay attention to the house where the “goddess” and her “puppy” lived. 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 11), we naturally assume he is returning home—entering the same shared space he and his grandmother inhabit. But is that actually the case? A closer look reveals he is using the other entrance. On his right side, we see the electricity meter, the mailbox, and the window—the signs of an inhabited and administratively recognized unit. This suggests that Kim Dan’s official residence is behind this second door. Once again, I am showing the view of the same building from a different perspective, 
(chapter 57) where the mail box and the electricity meter are. But I have another evidence for this observation. During that night, the hamster got assaulted by Heo Manwook and his minions. 
(chapter 11) And keep in mind that after getting beaten by the Emperor, anyone could recognize the grandmother’s place from outside due to the broken window. 
(chapter 19) The moment I made this discovery, I couldn’t help myself wondering why doc Dan would go to the other door and not to the halmoni’s room.
(chapter 11) The voice on the phone reveals something legally crucial
(chapter 11): Kim Dan is the last remaining resident in that building. That one line reframes everything. This suggests that Kim Dan’s official residence is behind this second door. 😮 In fact, the building features 
(chapter 5) When the loan shark came to collect the interest of the debts during Kim Dan’s childhood, he went straight to her door 
(chapter 5) —the door that, at the time, likely bore the blue house number plaque. 
(chapter 5) the door associated with Kim Dan in later episodes—particularly the one through which the champion entered during the confrontation with the thugs —opens inward and is placed in the corner of the right wall. The interior layouts and door directions don’t match, though the furniture is similar. This strongly suggests that these are two different units within the same building, exactly like I had observed before. The “goddess” and the hamster’s house had two doors and as such two units. 
(chapter 19) had a recollection of this moment, when he was about to leave this humble dwelling. 
(chapter 19) His move to the penthouse triggered another “move” from the past. Consequently, I am deducing that this souvenir represents the moment of the grandmother’s arrival and the departure of the hamster’s parent(s) from the other unit. But there’s more to it.
(chapter 65) and Kim Dan the immature child, whereas according to my observations, she is legally dependent on the “hamster”. She is just a household member. As you can see, I detected a contradiction between her words and “hidden actions”, all this triggered because of the closed door. By transferring the address and registration to the physical therapist, she made it possible for him to inherit not just the space, but also the liability. That’s why he’s now the only registered person.
(chapter 11) When he says “home,” he is referring not just to a physical place, but also to a legal and emotional placeholder—a registration number that ties him to bureaucratic existence, familial duty, and emotional manipulation. With her promise to return in that home, Shin Okja is essentially demanding he remains the legal anchor—the one who stays behind, the one who remains registered, the one who continues to carry the official burdens, even as she herself fades into invisibility. That’s how she became a “carefree” ghost in the end. It wasn’t just a promise of care, but a submission to being tethered—not to belonging, but to obligation masked as love. The irony is that by remaining legally “present,” Dan was emotionally erased.
(chapter 65) In this panel, her words in English were ambiguous, while in the Korean version, the grandmother exposes that she was well aware that her grandson and the emperor would live together. 
(chapter 65), in the eyes of the system, merely lodging in his shadow. She is indeed a ghost. 
(chapter 22) This architectural division is deeply symbolic. Despite being the dependent, Dan is the one bearing responsibility—both financially and administratively. Shin Okja, on the other hand, manages to live without accountability. 
(chapter 65) Joo Jaekyung is almost her grandson!! It was, as if she was about to adopt him. Let’s not forget that he embodies all her ideals and dreams: strong, healthy, rich, famous, generous, polite and gentle! And according to my observations, she knows that the athlete owns a flat in Seoul, big enough to take a room mate. 
(chapter 16) He even showed the amount Kim Dan owned with his cellphone to the Emperor 
(chapter 53) So far, in season 1, she had made only one (chapter 41) before her request to visit the West Coast. The most plausible explanation is that Shin Okja persuaded him to take over the loan. She likely presented it as a necessary sacrifice, something he could manage given his income as a physical therapist. This explains why the elderly woman is no longer asking about the debts or loan. It is no longer her main concern, she is not the household head either. And don’t forget what the physical therapist thought, when he heard from Kim Miseon the bad prognostic about his grandma. 
(chapter 5) His words imply that he had done something in the past for her. And that would be to become her guardian and take her debts. This hypothesis explicates why only in episode 11, Doc Dan was comparing the progression of the interests with a snowball system, something unstoppable. 
(chapter 11) His thoughts reflect a rather late realization that he is trapped in a system and he can not get out of it. In other words, this image oozes a certain innocence. This also explained why Joo Jaekyung had to confront him with reality in front of the hospital. 
(chapter 18) The location is not random: for the halmoni, such a work place symbolizes respectability, power and money. The problem is that in the hospice, Doc Dan is not well-paid. 
(chapter 56)
(chapter 11) And now, it is time to return our attention to my illustration for the essay: 
As my avid readers can observe, the panel with the champion facing the blue door comes from episode 69, while the one with doc Dan comes from chapter 11. These scenes are mirroring each other. It is about concern and danger! While in episode 69, the athlete got worried, as he imagined that doc Dan’s life was in danger, in episode 11, the hamster was about to face an old threat: Heo Manwook and his minions! 
(chapter 11) But back then, he was on his own and no one paid attention to his health. Not even Shin Okja… He was truly abandoned, while the episode 69 exposes the opposite. Society in this little town takes care of people in general. 
(chapter 11), he jumped to the conclusion that Dan was either prostituting himself or laundering funds. Why? It is because he had taken odd jobs, until he got hired by the dragon, Joo Jaekyung, and had such a huge income. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Heo Manwook knew how to use the old lady in order to threaten doc Dan. 
(chapter 16) Like I wrote in a different analysis, I doubt that the grandma would have signed a loan by Heo Manwook. This reveals how Dan entered the contract in obscurity, without recognition or protection. He did it for Shin Okja’s sake to repay her for her support and “love”. 
(chapter 65) No wonder why Shin Okja never mentions the loans when speaking to Joo Jaekyung, thus erasing her responsibility. And imagine this: Doc Dan is now living with an elderly man who is a farmer. She might suspect that the senior is trying to take advantage from her “grandsons”. If this is true, then she would just be projecting her own thoughts and fears onto the landlord. Since she connects the city to success and money, I am quite certain that she doesn’t judge farmers in a positive light. For her, doctors or celebrities are much more recommendable persons.
(chapter 57) Therefore I am expecting an argument between the halmoni and the inhabitants of 33-3. The landlord embodies the opposite values of Shin Okja. 
(chapter 16) Dan repeatedly calls it his grandmother’s and even dreamed of finding a new place that could house it—a gesture that underscores how much he believed she treasured the object, even though she herself never mentions it. But she never once references it, not even when returning from the hospital. The absence of interest is striking. What if the cabinet didn’t belong to her at all? Its size suggests that it predates the division of the house. Besides, according to my observation, she used to live in the other unit and I can not imagine, the halmeoni moving this furniture from one unit to the other. Perhaps it once belonged to Dan’s mother—a remnant of the original household, now misattributed to the woman who unofficially took over.
(chapter 19) onto the object just as he projects loyalty and gratitude onto his guardian. But the silence around the cabinet speaks volumes: it is not treasured by Shin Okja, only by Dan. Much like his name on the loan, or the house number on the door, it could be a misplaced inheritance. At the same time, such an item could serve to identify doc Dan’s true origins, if the Wedding Cabinet belonged to his true family.
(chapter 66) Changing his registration would mean stepping outside of the institution’s control and surveillance. 
(chapter 62) Without Dan, Seoul held no meaning. But if he remains in the town past the statutory threshold, it would imply that he is ready to leave behind the world of contracts and competitions. It would mean he is now rooted—not by career, but by choice. Not by obligation, but by emotional truth.
(chapter 69) and the latter stands stunned in the late-summer breeze, the moment seems suspended in light and silence. The doctor’s words are accompanied by a subtle music: the wind. It whispers through the panel with an audible “WHOOSH,” not covering doc Dan’s voice but giving it resonance. The wind, like words, travels through the air and reaches the celebrity’s ear. It connects characters across distance, marking the invisible line of perception, reaction, and awakening. But behind this charged reunion lies a quiet figure—barely visible, yet unmistakably present: the landlord. In this image, the old man appears only for a second, dressed in a jacket and green cap, almost blending into the night. He does not speak. He does not move. And yet, everything in that scene bears his mark.
(chapter 69), and the bags of groceries in his hands, traces of the landlord’s influence are everywhere. Whether it was Kim Dan who offered his help or the landlord who extended the invitation, the result was mutual: for the first time, they acted as a community—two individuals sharing the same roof and engaging in reciprocal care. I observed that through this interaction, the doctor was subtly encouraged to behave differently. He was not merely going shopping. That quiet moment served as a turning point—an invitation to rejoin life, to move on, to dress with care, to claim space. While others meddle, accuse, or abandon, the landlord quietly watches, nudges, and supports. He is not the star of the scene, but its breath. He is the breeze before the embrace. The hand behind the rescue.
(chapter 69) 
(chapter 69) These silent, parallel compositions reveal the landlord’s symbolic position as an enduring guardian: not static, but responsive. Therefore his position shifts constantly, either 
(chapter 65) in front of the couple, or behind Kim Dan in one scene, behind the champion in another.
(chapter 57) He is not fixed in place like house, wall or obstacle. This explicates why he is almost seen outdoors, even her. Opening the door means allowing the fresh air to enter the room. 
(chapter 65) He is like the wind, fluid and unobtrusive, adapting to the needs of the moment. His position is never rigid, therefore in the final panel he seems to have vanished. 
(chapter 46) or authority 
(chapter 65), the landlord responds to what is needed, not what is expected. His flexibility does not stem from indecision—it is born from humility and care. Another aspect contributing to this perception is his ignorance. However, the latter should not be viewed negatively. Since he doesn’t know the champion’s profession or the doctor’s familial and financial situation, he is not projecting expectations or judgments onto them. Rather than acting out of assumption, he simply observes. This is precisely why he doesn’t come across as arrogant. His lack of knowledge becomes a quiet strength—it allows him to respond with presence, not prejudice. Just as the wind moves through open spaces without imposing form or judgment, his unknowing presence allows room for others to breathe and unfold, free from predefined roles or assumptions.
(chapter 65) He does not try to define the protagonists by their past or their titles. He lets them define themselves. While he tried to encourage doc Dan to drink and work less, as time passed on, he came to notice his suffering and accept him with his illness. 
(chapter 69), it is plausible that the landlord is calmly scanning the horizon, sensing the approach of the tempest. After all, he is a farmer 
(chapter 69) They are murmuring, yes, but their attention is absorbed by the incident at the shore. This led me to reconsider: perhaps the purchase was not consciously connected to the weather after all. And yet, one man quietly stood apart from the crowd—the landlord, his silence and gaze directed not toward the commotion, but toward the open horizon.
(chapter 69) had already been shown earlier together in the crowd, I suspect that one of them might informed Kim Dan about the incident and the champion’s presence. This would align with the narrative’s kaleidoscopic structure, where certain scenes are reflected in different timelines.
(chapter 66) Under this new light, it dawned on me that the fan was most likely handed out by a local institution—perhaps even the hospice Light of Hope, during a public health campaign or examination event. This means that he is taking good care of himself. One might argue with this interpretation, yet there exists another evidence for this perception. 
(Chapter 62) He is constantly wearing the green cap, a sign that he knows about the danger of the sun. This stands in opposition to the grandmother who would sell her vegetables without any hat. 
(chapter 57) These types of fans are typically distributed by hospitals or clinics: practical items with subtle promotional intent. But once in the landlord’s hands, it takes on symbolic weight. The number “365” does not simply represent a calendar year; it represents consistency, time, and the daily rhythm of care.
(chapter 57), white, 
(chapter 58), green, 
(chapter 62) 
(chapter 65) words and wind share the same pathway—the ear. We do not see them; we hear or feel them. Just like the wind, the landlord’s influence often goes unnoticed unless we attune ourselves. Interestingly, in the English version of Jinx, he refers to Joo Jaekyung as “son” 
(chapter 69) and Kim Dan as “sonny” 
(chapter 59) Whether it’s due to panic, malnutrition, exhaustion, or psychological collapse, suffocation is one of the defining sensations of Kim Dan’s arc. In this context, the landlord, with his unassuming fan and grounded demeanor, emerges as a breath of fresh air—the very opposite of the heiße Luft, or “hot air,” surrounding the champion’s fabricated scandals and media distortions. 
(chapter 69) the atmosphere grows heavier—not from external scandal, but from inner turmoil. Then Kim Dan’s puzzled reaction, 
(chapter 69) The scene becomes emotionally charged, echoing classic storm symbolism: emotional intensity, uncertainty, and the prospect of sudden change.
(chapter 67) Doc Dan got finally his answer to this question. Joo JAekyung is more a man of action than of pretty words. So awakening and flourishing are not something that occurs behind glass or sealed doors. It is born in the open, amidst uncertainty and confrontation. And under this new light, I reached a final insight: growth in Jinx does not happen behind closed doors or sealed windows. It happens in the open, where storms rage and air can finally circulate. 
(chapter 59) The landlord doesn’t shelter people from pain or storms. He makes sure they’re equipped to face them. And once they do, the wind is no longer a threat, but a form of grace. And now, you comprehend why the death of the puppy has not been discovered by the athlete yet. For the landlord, death is something natural and inevitable, and since doc Dan has been working at the hospice, I am quite certain that the old man imagined that doc Dan was well-equipped to deal with this situation. He must have been envisaging that Doc Dan was accustomed to it. The problem is that he doesn’t know the protagonist’s past and family. 
(chapter 58), who plays the victim while hiding his own culpability, the landlord does not engage in gossip or vilification. His silence isn’t ignorance—it is grace. 
(chapter 58) and from media 
(chapter 66) and remains seated. Since he mentions it is the weekend, it is clear that he has no intention to work during the weekend. This explains why he is not wearing his usual green-and-white cap. This subtle detail reinforces his connection to nature’s rhythms—he is not a workaholic 
(chapter 57), but someone who understands the balance between labor and rest. He may not have a name, but he has a function. And sometimes, in storytelling, function is identity enough.
(chapter 56) In Episode 56, we see him resting in front of the window. This moment suggests not only emotional vulnerability but also isolation. There is no one behind him, no one shielding him from the coldness of the world. Later, when he watches the sunset, disconnected from his senses, unable to hear the waves or feel the breeze, 
(chapter 59) there’s only one poor sun umbrella in front of him and a wall far behind him. His back is turned to the world, wrapped in solitude and silence. That’s how I was reminded of his childhood. There, the grandmother often stood beside him 
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 49) explains why he got abandoned in the locker room. It gains even more poignancy when viewed against his past. In Episode 47, while the grandmother was carrying him on her back, Kim Dan’s back is left unprotected. 
(chapter 47) Her proximity is visible, yet it lacks the symbolic protection associated with standing at someone’s back.
(chapter 57) The moment she offered him a snack, she distanced herself from him. Now, she is standing by his side. 
(chapter 65) It becomes the exception—the rare moment where she appears to have his back. But photographs can be deceptive. They capture posed perfection, not lived reality. And as we trace Kim Dan’s emotional journey, we begin to understand that this illusion of maternal protection was not enough to sustain him.
(chapter 61) —they give him the air, time, and space to grow. 
(chapter 62) Their presence—especially the landlord’s—is the embodiment of silent guardianship. 
(chapter 69) His consistent yet unobtrusive presence stands in opposition to the grandmother’s inconsistent gestures. One acted out care; the other lives it.
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 47) Despite the rare instance of closeness captured in a photo, most scenes depict Kim Dan standing next to his grandmother, and he is the one supporting her. 
(chapter 69) This gesture, though seemingly violent, reveals something deeper—it forced Kim Dan to feel what he had been missing all along: there were people around him, he was not alone. I would even add, someone was finally standing behind him. 
(chapter 69) In that brief moment, Kim Dan is no longer alone. The landlord, as a silent guardian, and Joo Jaekyung, as a fierce protector, are both behind him—symbolically and literally. 
(chapter 65), reliant on beds, wheels, and nurses to navigate the world. Under this new perspective, the wheelchair and the truck are no longer just modes of transportation—they are emblems of character. One rolls forward by another’s push, the other steers by its own will.
(chapter 53), I doubt that she anticipated the existence of dangers by living on the coast: storms and typhoons. So her beautiful town could get devastated, 
(chapter 69), while the star becomes the son. This trio, for now, are merely neighbors. But with the storm approaching, I am expecting that their separation may dissolve, drawing them into shared space and daily life.
(chapter 46) Coach Yosep, Joo Jaekyung, and Park Namwook—a trio marked by authority without dialogue, control without care. In that group, the manager sowed distrust while avoiding accountability. 
(chapter 46) In the new trio, no one holds dominion over the other. There are no contracts, no strings. The landlord has no financial stake in the fighter’s success.
(chapter 66)
(chapter 66) they saw it as further confirmation of their perception—reinforcing the idea that he is terribly flawed. However, a deeper analysis suggests that this term reflects not just his character but also his evolving mindset and struggle with emotional vulnerability. This essay will explore the paradox at the heart of their dynamic—how both men refuse to acknowledge the emotional weight of their relationship, leading to a cycle of denial and misperception. It will examine how the concept of the jinx evolves, the continued influence of Park Namwook’s manipulations on Joo Jaekyung, and the role that mutual ingratitude plays in their emotional stagnation.
(chapter 65), the nature of his principle has changed: 
(chapter 65)The athlete is admitting his dependency on doc Dan. The jinx is now directly tied to Kim Dan, not just as a concept but as a tangible element of Joo Jaekyung’s career stability. The second switch is that sex is no longer a condition to ward off bad luck. In fact, the celebrity is recognizing the importance of his daily training and, as such, his hard work. 
(chapter 65) The inner thoughts of the sportsman reveal that the champion is feeling less powerless than before. His champion status is no longer reliant on superstition but on tangible efforts—his “old routine” and, crucially, Kim Dan’s expertise as a physical therapist. This marks a significant transformation in his perception of Kim Dan, whom he now values for his professional skills rather than as a mere tool for maintaining a ritual. Thus, Joo Jaekyung should be less inclined to request Doc Dan’s sexual services. Then, in episode 66, a new change became visible.
(chapter 11), a tool to generate money and maintain the gym’s reputation. Hence he blames him, when members leave the gym. 
(chapter 46) exposing the lack of ambition and commitment from the two hyungs. It is clear that Joo Jaekyung’s wealth and fame was used to attract the sportsmen creating a myth that they could experience the same success. Nevertheless, as time passed on, the fighters were confronted with reality. It was, as if the athlete’s achievement had become a curse for Team Black. Nonetheless, neither the manager nor the coach can admit it, the champion’s bad temper is utilized to cover the mismanagement within the gym. Striking is that by portraying the protagonist as a person with a bad temper and personality 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 66) In calling Kim Dan ‘defect,’ Joo Jaekyung is unknowingly projecting his own self-perception onto him. The term suggests something broken but also something that can be repaired, reflecting an unconscious shift in his perspective. Instead of simply using Kim Dan as part of a superstition, he is beginning to see his vulnerability, perhaps even recognizing a parallel to his own struggles. His choice of words also reveals his deeply ingrained belief in self-reliance. 
(chapter 66) Kim Dan’s nighttime distress contradicts this principle, as it suggests an inability to be alone. This mirrors Joo Jaekyung’s own realization in the garden 
(chapter 66) Nevertheless, the idiom (“he’s got a defect”) reveal that Joo Jaekyung is still under the manager’s influence. This means that this shift is not immediate or conscious; it is restrained by his continued loyalty to Park Namwook and his ingrained avoidance of emotional vulnerability.
(chapter 60) This scene represents the exception. For the most part of the time, the star only visited the gym because Park Namwook had contacted him. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 66) Yet, just moments later, he tells him that he can take more time to rest, as if feigning concern. This contradiction is striking because it exposes his underlying agenda: he wants Joo Jaekyung back in the gym but doesn’t want to appear forceful. Instead, he makes it seem like Joo Jaekyung is the one making the decision, fostering guilt by implying that his long absence is unnatural.
(chapter 27) This double standard highlights Park Namwook’s true role: he is not a supportive figure but a handler, ensuring that Joo Jaekyung remains under control and fulfilling his duties as a fighter. His words are not meant to provide genuine support but to keep Joo Jaekyung tethered to a system where his worth is defined solely by his success in the ring. 
(chapter 50), preferring instead to remain passive so that any negative outcomes can be blamed on the champion. At the same time, this passivity helps him maintain control—as if Joo Jaekyung, without his guidance, would be left ‘alone’ and directionless. In this way, the man with the glasses sustains a dynamic in which the champion feels dependent on his presence, even as he is subtly undermined. By neglecting to inform him of these events, Park Namwook ensures that the champion remains unaware of external factors that could influence his choices. This pattern reinforces the possibility that Park Namwook was aware of the meeting with Choi Gilseok and deliberately ignored it, likely expecting that Joo Jaekyung would take care of it, while absolving himself of responsibility. 
(chapter 22) They had heard about his place, for the manager must have talked about it. The protagonist is not someone who will talk about his private life to others. The manager must have dangled promises in front of them, making them believe that if they’re lucky enough, they too could live like the champion. However, their reactions reveal something crucial—they are not motivated by greed but by genuine admiration. They simply want to experience the luxury once in a while, reinforcing that their bond with Joo Jaekyung is rooted in camaraderie rather than material envy. This further highlights the contrast between Park Namwook’s manipulation and the sincere regard his teammates have for him. This scene is important, because it exposes the manager’s prejudices and lack of discernment. 
(chapter 66) Neither of them fully understands how to acknowledge care or support. Just as Joo Jaekyung struggles to recognize his actions as stemming from concern 
(chapter 66) rather than routine, Kim Dan fails to see Joo Jaekyung’s interventions as genuine help. This mutual misunderstanding deepens the emotional rift between them, ensuring that both remain trapped in their own perceptions of obligation rather than connection. In Chapter 66, he openly expresses frustration, stating, 
(chapter 66). This moment highlights a rare glimpse of honesty: he is not acting purely out of self-interest, but he frames it as an obligation rather than a choice. From my point of view, such a statement could only reach the physical therapist’s mind, for in the latter’s eyes, the champion has always been a “demon”: self-centered and inconsiderate. Observe the absence of reply from the “hamster”. He couldn’t contradict the star, as the latter was using this negative image: bad tempered and selfish.
. The reason is simple. He was portrayed as someone who would do favors to people constantly: his grandmother 
(chapter 7) and even Choi Heesung. Hence the latter called him like that: 
(chapter 30) Kim Dan’s perception of himself as an “angel” has long shaped the way he interprets his relationship with Joo Jaekyung. Reinforced by his upbringing and Park Namwook’s subtle manipulation 
(chapter 1), selfish, and emotionally stunted. However, this self-perception is deeply flawed. By believing himself to be inherently better 
(chapter 64) than the champion, Kim Dan avoids confronting his own emotional repression, his weaknesses, and his own form of “defectiveness.” He fails to see that he is just as human—just as fragile—as the man he silently judges. 
(chapter 66) The expression “Really…?” is not just about disbelief but also about a moment of confrontation with reality. Up until this point, Kim Dan has been dismissing his own suffering, suppressing his struggles, and functioning on autopilot. However, hearing a professional confirm that he is indeed sick forces him to acknowledge what he has been denying.
(chapter 60) or exaggerations. 
(chapter 66) It also forces him to consider that others—especially Joo Jaekyung—were right to be concerned, which in turn may lead to a shift in his perception of the champion’s actions.
(chapter 20) with shame, something impure that should be avoided or hidden. This internalized belief made it difficult for him to separate his own experiences from moral judgment. When he encountered the champion —who treated sex as nothing more than a professional ritual 
(chapter 66) He assumed once again that the star had taken advantage of his “drunkenness”, something Kim Dan had done himself in the past.
(chapter 65) Symbolically, this reflects their respective journeys. The demon (Joo Jaekyung) is slowly leaving the underworld of detachment and blind routine, stepping toward vulnerability. Meanwhile, the angel (Kim Dan) is descending from his idealized, self-righteous perception of himself, recognizing his own flaws, desires, and limitations. Both must step away from their extremes—Kim Dan from his unconscious moral superiority and passive victimhood, and Joo Jaekyung from his emotional repression and transactional mindset.
(chapter 40) , while Kim Dan, conditioned by years of emotional neglect, sees gratitude as a transactional exchange rather than an expression of genuine appreciation. 
(chapter 66) because Kim Dan does not recognize his efforts, while Kim Dan cannot see past his own survival instincts to notice that Joo Jaekyung’s actions are slowly shifting from obligation to care. Kim Dan, conditioned by years of neglect and survival-driven thinking, does not see Joo Jaekyung’s actions as genuine care. 
(chapter 36), his tendency to retreat rather than challenge his own doubts 
(chapter 36), and his overwhelming fear of disappointing others 
(chapter 51) are all reflections of these internalized obstacles. Recognizing them as external impositions rather than intrinsic truths is the first step to breaking free. That’s the reason why in the reflection of the broken mirror, you can detect an open window in the background. By focusing too much on his reflection, the physical therapist is trapped in his own negative world. One could perceive it as the opposite version of Narcissus. Yet rather than falling in love with his image, he sees only his flaws, reinforcing his belief that he is unworthy. The open window suggests an escape, a possibility for change, but the problem is that the main lead is too fixated on his shattered self-perception to pay attention to his surroundings. Hence he comes to neglect his own body and people next to him.
(chapter 54) suggests he too is haunted by such internalized voices. Under this new light, you comprehend why I wrote in the introduction that the broken mirror was mostly alluding to the doctor. Both protagonists are suffering from mental hurdles, trapped in a psychological prison. The significant difference is that while Kim Dan is consciously recognizing his self-doubt 
(chapter 62), Joo Jaekyung does not. The evidence for this interpretation is the champion’s nightmare: 
(chapter 18) the doctor 
(chapter 25) Therefore the physical therapist bought books. Moreover, we should consider this argument 
(chapter 45) as a revocation of the star’s statement in episode 18. Kim Dan was no longer perceived as a tool, but as a real physical therapist. On the one hand, this request boosted the “angel’s ego”, on the other hand, he was put under immense pressure, for he was compared to his colleagues. 
(chapter 6), he came to accept that he was not truly talented. The champion had no trust in him and later, the word jinx triggered a repressed bad memory. 
(chapter 62) Due to his bad past experiences, he concluded deep down that his CV was not reflecting the truth. 
(chapter 48) exemplifies this pattern: 
(chapter 48) It was not the right time. He assumed his voice held no weight, reflecting years of learned helplessness. It shows how Kim Dan internalizes responsibility for things beyond his control. He thinks that withholding information is an act of protection rather than avoidance. Yet in doing so, he denies himself agency in his own life.
(chapter 62) completely devastated Kim Dan’s already fragile self-esteem. 
(chapter 62) First, he considers himself as waste. While in the past, he was at least a tool, he is now garbage. Hence his feelings are “trash”. 
(chapter 62) This means that in episode 62, he felt worse than in episode 18! The idioms “trash” and “waste” revealed the doctor’s own self-perception in episode 62: he saw himself as totally useless. He belonged to the “wastebasket”, just like the golden key chain. 
(chapter 46) Thus I deduce that the fate of this item echoes the doctor’s. 
(chapter 47) He had selected this profession because of her. This shows that until now, he has never developed any ambition on his own. The loss of faith from someone he relied on for motivation made him feel completely worthless. This reinforces that his confidence and sense of direction were never self-sustained: they depended on others’ recognition. This pattern suggests that Kim Dan has never truly asked himself what he wants. His entire existence has revolved around meeting expectations, whether from his grandmother, Joo Jaekyung, or even his profession. His current crisis—feeling like waste—stems from the realization that without someone to validate his worth, he sees himself as nothing.
(chapter 59) However, observe that he is using the expressions “do” and “now”. This has nothing to do with the future and dreams. It is not a reflection on his own desires but rather an immediate reaction to his circumstances. His mindset is still trapped in survival mode, seeking a course of action rather than contemplating what he truly wants. His words reflect an urgency to act rather than an opportunity to dream. This highlights that he has spent his entire life making decisions based on necessity rather than personal fulfillment. Even when faced with uncertainty, he does not ask himself what he wants—only what he must do next. His transformation will only be complete when he begins to question not just how to survive, but how to live on his own terms. That’s how I realized why Mingwa put this question in front of the window covered with Venetian blinds [which made me think of this scene 
(chapter 39 – Venice, a travel to Italy]. The window with the Venetian blinds represents a metaphor for the doctor’s trapped dreams. This interpretation made me recognize another aspect. Kim Dan is pushed to meditate, when he is front of a window or better said close to the sky! Hence the hamster started thinking about his own future in the penthouse 
(chapter 19) or when he looked at the sun and sky: 
(chapter 41) 
(chapter 41) And the best evidence for this interpretation and expectation is doc Dan’s cellphone screen display. 
(chapter 47) The picture from his childhood: himself with his grandmother. 
(chapter 38) No wonder why he questioned the meaning of his champion title: 
(chapter 54). He saw the belt as something rather “meaningless”. 
(chapter 43) This would boost the doctor’s self-esteem. He is not trash, but an acknowledged fan and friend. The picture would encourage the physical therapist to develop his own ambitions. As soon as I made this discovery, another detail caught my notice: 
(chapter 66) The celebrity has no picture of Park Namwook in his contacts divulging the superficiality of their relationship. 
(chapter 42) The problem is that the athlete took this recommendation personally. He felt as if his job as fighter was questioned. 
(chapter 42) As you can see, the doctor’s hesitations were exposing his mental obstacles, which was reflected in the champion’s attitude. No wonder why doc Dan chose to become a courier as a second job instead of finding a new VIP client. While the interaction between the athlete and Kim Dan in front of the hospice display the return of doc Dan’s past mental hurdles:
(chapter 62) According to the main lead, the champion is “wasting his time here”. 
(chapter 62)
(chapter 57) Hence it is clear that in the future, the physical therapist would refuse to use any kind of spray. On the other hand, it is important to recall that back then, Joo Jaekyung had made the request himself: 
(chapter 49) So in the doctor’s mind, if he agreed to the champion’s request, he would be treated like in the past. He would have to simply to follow the athlete’s lead. That’s why he is imagining that he might be put in a similar situation than in the past. But there exists another reason why he refused the champion’s offer right from the start. It is because he has always perceived himself as “hands” which stand for selflessness and generosity. The latter defined doc Dan. Hence he looked at them, when he declared himself as a tool: 
(chapter 57) 
(chapter 1) with a previous PT like the spray? No wonder why he called himself “trash” in the end. 
, people might wonder why I selected dandelions as a frame for the selected.. It’s clear that the dandelions aren’t just there for aesthetic balance. Their symbolism is profound. Dandelions are often associated with childhood innocence, wishes, and fleeting moments of beauty, yet they also wither quickly, easily scattered by the wind. In the context of Jinx, they represent a transitory force—something that struggles to take root, much like the intangible and fleeting elements in Kim Dan’s life. But there’s more to it. Before delving into deeper analysis, consider this: what is the common denominator in all these scenes?
(chapter 37) Therefore it is not surprising that the main lead couldn’t view the members as friends in the end. 
(chapter 41) And now, you comprehend why Joo Jaekyung has always disliked his birthday and the “congratulations” from people in general. The gifts and words were like poisoned praises to his soul. They were pushing him to live like a “god”. 
(chapter 59) While this photography was not a personal and intimate picture, it also symbolizes his first root in the little community: Light of Hope Hospice. He is part of the staff and as such of the little town. On the other side, we could say, he is gradually entering the scene as a PT. Note the contrast to the food truck: 
(chapter 30) In other words, it exposes the actor’s hypocrisy and wrongdoings. And now, you understand why I wrote genuine in parentheses above [proof of (genuine) human connection]. Photography in Jinx also represents the evidence of wrongdoing 
(chapter 48) and deception: 
(chapter 46) The exact opposite of the dandelions.
(chapter 62) This shows that deep down, he desires to obtain doc Dan’s gratitude. No wonder why he got so upset after hearing the displeased comment from Kim Dan. 
(chapter 66) reveals Kim Dan’s elevation in the champion’s life. The dressing room symbolizes privacy and closeness. No longer seen as a mere tool, Kim Dan has become an integral part of Joo Jaekyung’s world, not because of what he can do but because of who he is. 
(chapter 66) Therefore the champion is holding the expensive gift with his whole hand contrary to the past: 
(chapter 55) As a conclusion, by bringing him to the sleep specialist, the star proved doc Dan’s words wrong! He told him something that doc Dan didn’t know: he is precious. He needs to pay attention to his health and body.
(chapter 32) And now, you comprehend why the athlete didn’t fall for Park Namwook’s manipulations afterwards.
(chapter 7) 
(chapter 65) At the same time, such a disapproval 
(chapter 1), hence his true desire was to run away from that place. For praise to be effective, the recipient must be open to receiving it, either by looking forward to feedback or having expectations of validation. Since Kim Dan was in a state of distress, he was unable to internalize the champion’s words, reinforcing his long-standing belief that he was invisible or unworthy of acknowledgment. That’s how the champion’s praise became a dandelion seed in the end.
(chapter 18) 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 64) 
(chapter 66) Is this a joke? 
(chapter 40) However, Kim Dan has never realized it. Either he was sleeping or totally out of it (fear of sex) 
(chapter 27) It is important to recall the importance of the receiver’s mind-set. The latter has to perceive the sincerity from the speaker. Hence I come to the following deduction: The moment Kim Dan notices Joo Jaekyung’s smile and laugh, then he should come to the conclusion that he matters to the protagonist. I would even say, the two protagonists are destined to make each other laugh and smile: 
(Chapter 63) The presence—or absence—of clothing during their encounters symbolized the gradual dismantling of their emotional walls. Now, shifting the perspective to the champion, another layer of complexity emerges. Joo Jaekyung’s evolving approach to intimacy is not just a reflection of his growing feelings but also a silent, deeply ingrained struggle with dependence and control.
(chapter 63) Why does he hesitate to strip entirely, even as he succumbs to desire? Notice that he released his erected phallus before removing his cloth. 
(chapter 63) To answer this, a comparative analysis of earlier sex scenes is necessary, unraveling the hidden dialogue between physical exposure and emotional vulnerability.
(chapter 30) The doctor instinctively tried to cover his gray boxer shorts with his t-shirt, prompting the champion to question his reaction: 
(chapter 30) In Episode 63, this dynamic appears subtly reversed. 
(chapter 63) The champion, despite holding the dominant role, is now the one retaining a piece of clothing. This suggests an unconscious act of concealment—not of shame in the traditional sense, but of a growing dependency on Kim Dan.
(chapter 62) with a zoom-in shot on his erection still hidden by gray sweatpants. Striking is that on the one hand he let the doctor feel his reaction to his naked body, when he embraced the doctor: 
(chapter 62) The “hamster” could sense with his leg the excitement. On the other hand, these pants were only removed once he entered the bedroom and was on the bed 
(chapter 63), reinforcing the idea that vulnerability, for him, is confined to this private space. Moreover, the choice of attire in Episode 62 
(chapter 63) Thus I deduce that exactly like the presence of the black underwear, the athlete’s low self-esteem hasn’t been removed completely. He still expects fear and rejection.
(chapter 63), dominates without seeking connection 
(chapter 55), and ensures that every encounter follows his carefully constructed narrative. However, in Episode 63, a subtle but undeniable shift occurs. For the first time, Jaekyung’s actions reflect something deeper than mere desire or dominance. They reveal his growing emotional investment in Kim Dan, exposing a side of him that even he does not fully comprehend. 
(chapter 63)
(chapter 12) In the earlier encounter, Jaekyung presented himself as a generous partner, offering Kim Dan a so-called privilege—an opportunity to enter a whole new world, thanks to him. However, his so-called generosity was nothing more than a facade, a way to conceal his inexperience in genuine intimacy. The tool he used was not just an object of pleasure but a mask for his own shortcomings as a lover. He did not know how to pleasure Kim Dan, nor did he care to learn. His focus was not on Kim Dan’s enjoyment but on reinforcing his own power and dominance.
(chapter 63) Here, he no longer portrays himself as the benevolent provider of an experience. 
(chapter 12) – seeking both to display dominance and to elicit validation 
(chapter 12) —this time, in Episode 63, he prioritizes Kim Dan’s pleasure without explicitly expecting anything in return. 
(chapter 63) Up until this point, Jaekyung has never truly faced rejection. 
(chapter 63) His wealth, power, and physical prowess have ensured that people comply with his desires. However, in Episode 63, Kim Dan does not simply comply—he resists on an emotional level. While he consents to sex, he actively rejects any deeper connection. He avoids eye contact, creates physical distance, and refuses to acknowledge Jaekyung beyond the act itself. This rejection unsettles Jaekyung because, for the first time, his usual methods of control no longer work. He cannot use money to bridge the emotional gap, nor can he rely on his dominance to make Kim Dan want him. 
(chapter 63) This moment forces him to confront an uncomfortable truth: power and status cannot buy emotional intimacy.
(chapter 03) or passive-aggressive remarks. 
(chapter 6) However, in this moment, he does not react with anger or coercion. 
(chapter 63) While he does voice his frustration, he does so without force, showing an unprecedented level of emotional regulation. Instead of demanding compliance, he chooses a different approach—he focuses on Kim Dan’s pleasure, attempting to bridge the emotional gap through physical intimacy 
(chapter 63) rather than control. This decision is not merely about sex; it is an unconscious attempt to regain Kim Dan’s attention, to re-establish a connection that he does not yet fully understand but deeply craves.
(chapter 29) This remark exemplified his detachment, his refusal to acknowledge Kim Dan as a person rather than just a body. Once again, the intercourse was linked to achievement and work. However, in Episode 63, he actively seeks Kim Dan’s gaze, subtly pleading for recognition. 
(chapter 63) This reversal is crucial because it indicates that he no longer sees Kim Dan as just a means to an end. However, his desire for recognition still lingers beneath the surface—just as he once sought validation through dominance, he now seeks it through Kim Dan’s acknowledgment. He wants something more, though he cannot yet articulate what that is, and his actions reflect a subconscious craving for emotional reassurance. 
(chapter 13)
(chapter 62) the sportsman welcomes the physical therapist in blue pajamas and a robe—an overt attempt to maintain distance and control. Even as the encounter begins, he leaves his pajamas on 
(chapter 3), removing them only 
(chapter 3) – this image marks the change) when the doctor’s back is turned. Then in Episode 8, during the shower, he continues wearing shorts and underwear 
(chapter 8), and his choice of the doggy style further reinforces his desire to avoid direct, face-to-face vulnerability. 
(chapter 12) before removing it and adding the pink sex toy. 
(chapter 12) Their bodies might have been close, but their minds remained divided. That’s why he couldn’t detect the huge bruises on his companion’s body. 
(chapter 12) This guarded approach is further underlined in Episode 20 
(chapter 20), where even in the midst of nakedness, the athlete deliberately positions the doctor in the dog stance. At the same time, he uses another MO: the darkness of the room to hide himself. This calculated arrangement maintains an emotional buffer, allowing him to remain physically exposed yet emotionally detached—a recurring theme in his behavior.
(chapter 29) while still cloaked in his familiar blue robe and pajamas. Interesting is that the room is not totally dark like in episode 20, the bedroom is illuminated by the huge TV screen. Importantly, this episode marks the first time they face each other in the bedroom, signaling a significant shift in their dynamic and announcing a switch in position. This newfound mutual visibility lays the groundwork for later developments.
(chapter 33) —a deliberate act imbued with symbolism. Unlike earlier encounters, the champion remains fully clothed throughout this episode, 
(chapter 33) contrasting sharply with previous moments of exposure. The car scene, where they are now facing each other, reinforces the announced switch in intimacy; the light not only illuminates the scene but also serves as a metaphorical spotlight on his desire to see the doctor’s face and body 
(chapter 33) —a silent assertion that only he can truly satisfy the physical therapist. Let’s not forget that before having sex together, the fighter resorted to a dildo 
(chapter 33) rather direct physical intimacy, because he felt insecure after witnessing the actor’s advances toward Kim Dan. His goal? To reaffirm his dominance and make Kim Dan admit that he needed him for pleasure. It is important because it exposes that deep down, the champion views himself as a bad lover. There is no doubt that Heesung‘s criticism resonated with him. 
(chapter 33)
(chapter 39) Maintaining the doggy style during this phase, he uses such intimate acts to mask his true longing and attraction—an effort to control the encounter while keeping his emotions under wraps. Then I noticed that they switched positions, when doc Dan asked for a break. 
(chapter 39) The wolf chose to lie down on the bed: 
(chapter 39) As you can see, through the different intercourses, we can see the different methods the star used to conceal himself, to hide his “weakness”, his growing feelings for the doctor.
(chapter 61) The physical therapist remembers an encounter bathed in bright light, where they stood before a couch: the doctor had removed his pants while the champion remained fully clothed, positioned behind him. 
(chapter 61) After both reached climax, the sportsman swiftly departed—a stark demonstration of his habitual retreat into distance and fear, even as he ensures the doctor’s pleasure. 
(chapter 61) This calculated “running away” underscores the return of old insecurities and the persistent need to assert control. Since the doctor was still living in the penthouse and as such was still working as the star’s physical therapist, it becomes comprehensible why the athlete could only resort to strength to keep his fated companion by his side. He had rejected his “gratitude” and “emotions” before. 
(chapter 63) Now lying on the bed facing each other, the pair’s physical closeness appears more genuine. Yet, even in this seemingly intimate configuration, they avoid locking eyes during penetration. 
(chapter 4), we do not see whether he is wearing anything the morning after. After their “magic night” in the United States (Episode 39), the next morning, he is only shown taking a shower 
(chapter 40) —meaning the audience never sees him leaving the bed. However, in Episode 45, the author deliberately includes a shot of Jaekyung leaving the bed while still wearing his black boxer briefs. 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 45). This is just a rhetorical question, as he clearly remembers the night. 
(chapter 45) In reality, he was wondering why he had acted this way. This contradiction—pretending to forget while consciously recalling their time together—reflects his internal denial. His next thought, 
(chapter 45) is a transparent excuse to avoid confronting his emotions. The presence of the black underwear in this scene confirms that he had not fully lowered his guard; he still maintained a psychological barrier between himself and Kim Dan.
(chapter 54) If he was not good enough, if he did not win, he was nothing.
(chapter 54) The specter that haunts him—an unnamed figure whose words still echo in his nightmares—was the architect of his relentless pursuit of strength. Striking is that in his nightmare, he is facing the mysterious ghost, a sign that he saw hatred and rejection in his counterpart’s eyes. While Kim Dan’s halmoni took his hand and provided warmth 
(chapter 22), Jaekyung’s guardian likely did the opposite. 
(chapter 5) This represented a source of support for the elderly woman. Secondly, during the intercourse in the lavender-tinted bedroom, neither the champion nor the doctor are trying to take each other’s hand: 
(chapter 63) In the beginning, the champion grabbed doc Dan’s wrist. This shows that the athlete was not used to touch Kim Dan’s hand. And notice how the “hamster” reacted 
(chapter 63) He pushed it away. This means that taking the doctor’s hand represents the biggest challenge for Joo Jaekyung right now. In addition, the last panel indicates the champion’s transformation, he is now willing to seek the doctor’s closeness. It also implies the vanishing influence from his past guardian.
(chapter 27) Under this new light, it could explain why the fighter forgot his passion. They made sure that he would train restlessly. In this environment, vulnerability was a defect to be eradicated, not a human trait to be acknowledged. This description reminded me think of Park Namwook and his family. The manager is a former national wrestler who is married to an athlete too. 
(chapter 5) At the same time, it would highlight the potential danger of Park Namwook’s vision for the gym: an institution that might perpetuate the same cycle of control, shame, and expectation rather than fostering true passion and individuality in young athletes. That’s how I realized why the manager slapped his “boy” after the funny sparring: 
(chapter 26) He explained that the main lead was just a doctor. However, I am quite certain, underneath, the manager thought that doc Dan was not fit to spare: so small and weak. He doesn’t fit the criteria to become a sparring partner. Look at his reaction, when Seonho faced the champion: 
(chapter 1), until he received the doctor’s massage in chapter 1. His attitude toward sex mirrors his training in the gym—focused on endurance, performance, and control. His body is a tool, a machine honed for efficiency. 
(chapter 63) Pleasure is secondary; the real goal is lasting, enduring, proving his stamina. Even in his most intimate moments, he is competing against an invisible opponent—his own ingrained fear of inadequacy.
(chapter 63), why he keeps barriers between himself and Kim Dan, even when his body betrays his true desires.
(chapter 62) 
(chapter 4) nudity was a tool of dominance, a means of asserting control. Now, it has become a sign of submission—not in the physical sense, but in the way he is slowly relinquishing the emotional armor he has always relied upon. 
(chapter 44) His decision to keep his underwear on for as long as possible in Episode 63 is not a sign of detachment 
(chapter 63), but of his silent battle against the vulnerability he is beginning to feel. 
(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 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 13) because they affected the doctor’s life? 
(chapter 41) In one case, he refused to listen to his friend’s advice, whereas he trusted the words from MFC, MFC doctors and his hyung. When the foundation he has relied upon begins to crack, Jaekyung’s entire mindset is shaken, forcing him to question whether his past truly holds the answers he seeks. We could say, the athlete needs to be betrayed by his own past in order to throw his old belief. The latter is strongly intertwined with the organization MFC and authorities in general. Questioning his past equals challenging the company MFC and his past “guardians”: the terrifying ghost and even his two hyungs. 
(chapter 61), he expresses the belief that reclaiming his championship title will rid him of his headaches, nightmares, and sleepless nights. However, the reality is different—he was already suffering from insomnia long before he lost his title. 
(chapter 29) The origins of his struggles existed before his recent failures, suggesting that his belief in a simple solution—reclaiming his title—is an illusion. This disconnect reveals how deeply his professional and personal life are entangled; his need for control in the ring has masked his deeper emotional vulnerabilities. He isn’t merely striving for victory—he is chasing the illusion of stability, believing that his success is the sole factor that determines his well-being. 
(chapter 29), you will realize that alone in his penthouse, Joo Jaekyung was actually admitting the importance of sleep and rest. His earlier belief in relentless training as the key to success now clashes with his realization that exhaustion is affecting him. This shift signifies an unconscious admission that his well-being is not just tied to physical endurance but also to recovery and relaxation—something he previously dismissed. This realization subtly parallels his growing dependence on Kim Dan, reinforcing the theme of blurring lines between his professional and personal life. And what had occurred after this magical blue night in the penthouse? 
(chapter 30) The athlete woke up later than usual. In fact, he was rather late, for he was still wearing his pajamas, while the doctor had already taken his shower. But back then, observe how he opened the door! Like a clumsy beast, grump leopard! Why? In the past, I explained that he was seeking the champion’s closeness, but didn’t know how to approach his partner. I am now adding another aspect. He was actually annoyed, because he had not been following his daily routine!! Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the champion had such a “angry” facial expression, while deep down he was happy. The older version of this scene: 
(chapter 44) However, this means that in episode 30, he never acknowledged his dependency on the physical therapist for his rest loudly. On the other hand, it explains why the champion felt threatened, when the actor approached his “lavender-tinted pillow” or “sleeping pill”. 
(chapter 31) In fact, he used guilt to create a link between him and his roommate. That’s the reason why I am more than ever convinced that the champion will sleep better after this lavender-tinted night. 
(chapter 62) won’t come true at all. 😉 He will stay longer and ask for Kim Dan’s presence during the night.
(chapter 56) and opportunities that could offer him security, convincing himself that he is protecting his independence when, in truth, he is reacting to past trauma rather than making an intentional choice.
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 46)
(chapter 19) She became terribly sick, while the other had to get surged and risked his career. There is no doubt that the halmoni is hiding her pain as well. Kim Dan’s declining physical and emotional state further reflects the consequences of living in avoidance. 
(chapter 61) He is endangering his life. Instead of taking action to improve his well-being, he isolates himself, refusing help even when it is necessary. His reluctance to accept care—be it medical, emotional, or relational—mirrors the very trap Delgado describes: mistaking survival for true agency.
(chapter 62) If he continues making decisions based on past fears, he will remain trapped in the same cycle, unable to experience true growth or emotional fulfillment.
(chapter 62) Here, he is actually facing his past which he has strongly connected to regret and remorse. Don’t forget that after this night, he is expecting Joo Jaekyung’s departure. 
(chapter 3), which has been the setting of power imbalances, physical dominance, and silence, the living room represents a shared space—a place where dialogue and openness can exist. But why is the bedroom linked to silence? It is because of the TV, the third invisible companion! 
(chapter 48) Hence during that night, none of the protagonists talked sincerely to each other. And now pay attention to the living room at the hostel: 
(chapter 54) He needed to get rid of this poor habit: watching TV or cellphone. He had to realize that the TV or cellphones were never real companions and never brought him peace of mind! This was the invisible “love” triangle. Back then, the athlete deceived himself by thinking that he was truly self-reliant, while in verity he was dependent on his cellphone and the TV. 
(chapter 59) Striking is that here the doctor didn’t apologize to the elderly man, but only to the family. 
(chapter 59) 
(chapter 62) – which is quite understandable in my eyes. The ones who failed the couple were the two other hyungs from my perspective. The past affected the doctor so much that he views himself and his feelings as “trash” now, yet it is clear that neither Park Namwook nor the coach are suffering from guilt or remorse. The star’s follow-up statement, 
(chapter 62) further reinforces that Kim Dan has become an integral part of his preparation. Although Jaekyung does not yet frame this as emotional reliance, his words betray an unconscious attachment—one that Kim Dan himself does not recognize. Moreover, by including him in his jinx, the champion is only one step closer to include him in his “success”. Should the doctor be the target of malicious comments, the star will consider it as a personal assault or as his responsibility.
(chapter 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 27) At the same time, this confession displays that his past was far from being perfect, the evidence of a distorted memory. After working so hard for the community, he came to receive a treatment from Kim Dan: 
(chapter 62) That’s why I come to the following conclusion: The athlete must have felt happy in the living room, for he felt comfortable and safe.
(chapter 62) But why did he show his back? One might say that he desired to hide his “satisfaction” and his “reliance” on his fated partner. Or he didn’t feel the need to watch the doctor’s facial reaction, when he would confide his new intentions and the transformation of his jinx. He didn’t expect the physical therapist to mock him for his absurd belief contrary to episode 2: 
(chapter 2) He trusted the doctor. Yet, in my opinion, there exists a bigger reason behind this change. It is related to his manager: 
The doctor is treating the star 
(chapter 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 62) In episode 62, Kim Dan reproached the champion for only being interested in his body, reflecting his own inability to see his body as something valuable. Hence he never wondered about the true cause for such a huge bruise. 
(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 62) that highlighted a crucial shift in how each of them perceives their own worth—and, more importantly, each other’s. The mirroring of these two episodes suggests a deliberate narrative structure that showcases their evolving dynamic, with each character taking on a role the other once held. This realization led me to explore how their perspectives on strength, vulnerability, and agency transform over time.
(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 26) This small yet significant act reveals that the champion does not see Kim Dan merely as a ‘sex doll’ but as someone worth protecting, even when challenging him. The protective gear is a contrast to Joo Jaekyung’s usual treatment of his one-night stands, reflecting an unconscious distinction between how he views Kim Dan versus his other partners. Finally, this sparring day exposes the doctor’s biased perception about the athlete in episode 62 once again. 
(chapter 26) – he was smiling genuinely here- , and has reduced his time spent with Joo Jaekyung to sex: 
(chapter 26) —a powerful, intimidating man who mirrors the threat of Heo Manwook 
(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 26), was happy to demonstrate his talents and kept smiling all the time: 
(chapter 26) For the first time, fighting had become a source of joy for the athlete. He felt not only good, but confident about his skills, as a teacher and fighter. In both instances, this moment serves as a turning point, pushing each character to redefine their role and perception of self.
(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) before returning to the ring: 
(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 34), wealth 
(chapter 42) and title
(chapter 55), not for its attractiveness or desirability. His reputation in bed has been poor; 
(chapter 27) 
(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 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) 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), it is very clear that Joo Jaekyung could have interpreted it as a sign for seduction later. Moreover, don’t forget the mysterious incident concerning the previous physical therapist: 
(chapter 62) According to my interpretation, Joo Jaekyung had interpreted the mistake for some advances and keep in mind that the fighter felt also attracted to the physical therapist. 
(chapter 56) In other words, he projected his own desires onto the “hamster”. But since he was still with the green-haired guy, he needed to mask his true intention: 
(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) 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 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 54) His entire life has been dedicated to work and physical prowess, leaving no space for genuine happiness or emotional well-being. His drinking is not just an escape—it is a manifestation of his need to silence his thoughts and emotions. In episode 44, when Kim Dan expressed admiration for his body, he patted his head
(chapter 44), he caressed his cheeks 
(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 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 wanted him to treasure his body!! In my eyes, Kim Dan’s suggestion in episode 62 is hiding another intention, though it is definitely unconscious: 
(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 59), the scene mirrors the iconic moment in The Little Mermaid where the mermaid saves the prince from drowning. Kim Dan, unconscious and seemingly following the voices of the hospice 
(chapter 59) —a representation of the mermaids’ song—drifts into a state of surrender, much like the prince. This act of salvation becomes a pivotal moment, connecting both characters to the themes of water, transformation, and rediscovery of purpose.
(chapter 31)
(chapter 58) while remaining oblivious to their struggles. These parallels reveal layers of self-discovery, mutual transformation, and the pursuit of meaning. By analyzing these similarities, we uncover deeper layers of self-discovery and transformation within the narrative.
(chapter 53) Joo Jaekyung, representing the “new world,” acts as both a source of transformation and a mirror reflecting Kim Dan’s sacrifices.
(chapter 58), yet it serves as the catalyst for his growth. Just as the little mermaid’s journey leads her to a higher spiritual purpose as a daughter of the air, Kim Dan’s experiences with Joo Jaekyung force him to confront his own worth, identity, and emotional needs. Just before he went to the ocean, he wondered about his own future and desires, a sign that he was standing at a crossroad: 
(chapter 57) 
(chapter 59) Like the mermaid, he has always lived disconnected from his own needs, burdened by the expectations of others—his grandmother, Heo Manwook, the doctors 
(chapter 21) , and even Joo Jaekyung. 
(chapter 59), he is not capable of crying. It is because he has been living like a ghost for the last two months. Depression, for both the mermaid and Kim Dan, manifests as a silent struggle, making their eventual transformations even more poignant.
(chapter 1) hiding his true self behind a facade of strength and success. On the other hand, Joo Jaekyung also embodies the mermaid’s longing and sacrifice. Living in the world of MMA, a high-pressure environment where he is constantly pushed to perform, he resembles the mermaid in the underwater kingdom—a place of death and materialism where the mermaids feed on drowned humans. It is no coincidence that the fighters are displayed like mermaids in the water full of blood. 
(chapter 19) Hence he never went to the swimming pool in his own penthouse, until Kim Dan triggered his memory and longing. This interplay of water and fire 
(chapter 52) 
(chapter 56) as long as they were not associated with burden or suffering, while the mermaid’s grandmother celebrates the beauty and decorum of their underwater realm. 
(chapter 57) He even gets blamed for his illness. These elements further emphasize how the suppression of individuality leads to yearning and eventual transformation.
(chapter 7), in reality, he is their boss and the foundation of their success. Their indifference mirrors the mermaid sisters’ behavior; they only notice his struggles and absence when his winning streak falters, prompting many to leave the gym for the rival King of MMA. However, if we take Andersen’s fairy tale as a source of inspiration, it signifies that at some point, the remaining members of Team Black might come to “sacrifice” themselves for their “little sister,” symbolically representing Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung. This potential act of loyalty could mirror the mermaid sisters’ gesture, showing that even belated recognition and care can lead to transformative redemption for those involved.
(chapter 1), attracting others seeking the same level of fame and fortune. 
(chapter 22) and a “neglected child” 
(chapter 59) further emphasizes the immaturity and lack of responsibility prevalent in this environment. In Andersen’s story, the mermaid sisters are given gardens to tend from a young age, instilling responsibility early on. Potato’s journey mirrors the mermaid sisters’ visit to the surface, as his trip to the sea represents a moment of exploration and self-discovery. While working as an actor for the first time, he realizes during his stay with Kim Dan that he has no intention of leaving Team Black. 
(chapter 58) Feeling lost without Kim Dan, he initially requests his return so that they can be together again. This longing for a companion reflects Potato’s deeper need for guidance and connection, much like the mermaid sisters who briefly visit the surface but ultimately return to their underwater world when the novelty fades. Yet, when they reach maturity and are allowed to visit the surface, the novelty of the human world quickly fades, and they return to their underwater realm indifferent to human suffering. However, notice that on his day of the departure, Potato tells Kim Dan that he won’t call him, the mermaid has to initiate the first step. 
(chapter 15) strongly parallel the detached, high-pressure environment of MMA fighting. Joo Jaekyung, trained relentlessly since youth, embodies this world’s harshness, where vulnerability is a luxury rarely afforded.
(chapter 59) suggests that Joo Jaekyung might reclaim his authentic self through activities like swimming, reconnecting with nature, and symbolically planting the seeds for a new life. Kim Dan, who cannot swim, learns from Joo Jaekyung, and together, they forge a path toward mutual healing and immortality—not in the literal sense but through finding their “soul” and purpose.
(chapter 58), but this assumption reveals their failure to truly understand Kim Dan’s plight. Their ignorance ties them to the selfishness and guilt that mark the couple in the fairy tale. Despite their faults, however, their actions indirectly contribute to Kim Dan’s transformation.
(chapter 15) his kiss with Joo Jaekyung, shared in the locker room, was both an act of protection and a pivotal moment in their dynamic. Like the mermaid’s unforgettable first kiss with the prince (when he was rescued), Joo Jaekyung’s kiss in the locker room was an act of initiation, driven by his “fears” and sense of responsibility, reflecting his growing attachment to Kim Dan. The kiss symbolized his struggle to connect and protect, even as he grappled with his emotional restraint. The locker room, a symbol of physical endurance and vulnerability 
(chapter 59) finding light not in others but within himself. Through his hardships, he gains the strength to pursue his own identity and agency.
(chapter 58) reminding me of the princess looking for the voiceless mermaid. It is clear that in both stories, the mermaid left traces in the humans’ hearts. 
(chapter 56) in Jinx serves as a powerful symbol and narrative device, encapsulating the themes of observation, communication, and truth, as reflected in the title “Unspoken Gifts, Unveiled Truths in the Light of Hope.” Its name evokes images of enlightenment and clarity, which stand in stark contrast to the gym Team Black and the grandmother’s internal state of denial and her rejection of responsibility. This tension between the hospice’s symbolic essence and the grandmother’s actions deepens the narrative’s exploration of personal accountability and transformation.
(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) 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) will become the physical therapist and champion’s mentors and advisors. Why? It is because the nurse with the brown hair embodies those values. Her emotional distance is already perceptible in her conversation with her colleague: 
(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 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 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) 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 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 31) And notice that the bouquet of pink roses pushed Kim Dan to talk to Joo Jaekyung about his taste. That’s how I detected a strong connection between presents and communication. Notice that on the champion’s birthday, the manager sent a message while the presents were delivered. 
(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) and 
(chapter 56) While in the first picture, Joo Jaekyung is calm, concentrated and silent, in the second one, the fighter is agitated, lost, breathless and yelling. These two mental dispositions are reflected in the location. In the first image, the MMA celebrity appears behind the steering wheel, which is a symbol for power, determination and control, whereas in the second panel the champion is wandering alone in the street. This running is no longer part of his training and routine, but it exposes his powerlessness, loneliness and despair. He has no idea where to go contrary to the first picture. This means that the latter embodies goal and destination, whereas the second image represents the opposite values: beginning, start, ground zero and source. In other words, the end of episode announces the athlete’s rebirth or better said, the start of a new life. I will elaborate further below. But let’s return our attention to the symbolism of the auto. 
(chapter 56) 
(chapter 35), Joo Jaekyung succeeded. He is just a passerby. In other words, the avenue indicates not only his failure to find Kim Dan, but also his loss of power and status. He has just become a nobody. Thus we should consider this as the athlete’s karma for thinking that Kim Dan could be replaced, because he was just a nobody: 
(chapter 55) It is no coincidence as well that the author showed us the star’s back, when the latter called his hyung Park Namwook. 
These two chapters are similar, for they convey the same emotions: anger, anxiety, frustration and despair of the fighter. In the car, the champion attempted to control the doctor’s libido. 
(chapter 33) On the one hand, he appeared calm and concentrated like in 56, yet deep inside, he was burning up. The pink dildo was used as a tool to voice his negative emotions (abandonment issues, insecurities and jealousy). With the release of episode 56, another reason came to my mind why the athlete proposed to drive the physical therapist to Choi Heesung. 
(chapter 32) First, he switched the car in order to demonstrate his wealth and status. It was, as if he wanted to show off to his fated companion, which reminded me of the actor. The latter would bomb doc Dan with “presents”, an indirect demonstration of his fortune. In addition, Jinxphiles will certainly recall that during the same day, the comedian came to fetch the physical therapist with his white Porsche. 
(chapter 32) Consequently, I came to the following deduction. The man selected the gray car in order to distinguish himself from his rival, to impress his companion.
(chapter 2) 
(chapter 37) with arrogance and weakness, but this is not true. [For more read this 
(chapter 5) He allows the coach to drive the car and the manager to sit in the front. Thus they represent the higher authorities. However, so far, the doctor had only been his passenger. Thus a new idea popped up: what if the athlete let the physical therapist drive his car? Let’s not forget that the loner wolf shouldn’t be driving on his own, for his shoulder has not healed properly yet. I already pointed out the wrongdoings from the two hyungs. 
(chapter 53) They should have brought him home. They stand for neglect and indifference due to their passivity and routine. In my eyes, they are happy at the gym, the latter represents their second family. So they imagine that it is the same for their boss. In other words, they projected their own thoughts and feelings onto the celebrity. They embody silence and lack of communication and this is actually palpable in the car. In episode 5, the manager and the MMA fighters lied to each other: 
(chapter 49). Yet, he revealed his true thoughts at the hospital: 
(chapter 52) Imagine that he only reported his investigation and actions afterwards. Then on the athlete’s birthday, he didn’t send any private message as well.
(chapter 37) He was using the landline telephone. This observation is relevant, because it exposes the coach’s dependency on Park Namwook. The latter’s task is to keep in touch with his boss and champion, for he has his cellphone number. Nevertheless, how do we explain the absence of the coach’s cellphone? I have the feeling that this could be related to his divorce. 
(chapter 49), Jinxphiles could never view the driver. 
(chapter 13) His question “Is everything okay with you?” is purely mechanical and as such meaningless, for he doesn’t inquire, when he hears a silence from the other side of the line. I would even say that he doesn’t really wait for his boy’s answer as well. 
(chapter 56), he could end up in the same situation than the protagonist. And keep in mind that the coach Yosep is actually relying on the manager. Thus I reckon that the champion’s other source of power is actually his cellphone! Without him, he has no connection 
(chapter 32) and no power. His call to the manager during that evening represents his last resort. Thus he is calling the manager “Namwook hyung” contrary to episode 5.
(chapter 5) This title is indicating that the champion is opening up, and willing to show his vulnerability and despair. On the other hand, this change also implies “expectations” from the fighter, 
(chapter 56) He somehow expected doc Dan to listen to his words and accept them. That was it. Then at the end, it is just about seeing doc Dan and nothing more. At no moment, he voiced the desire to get to know his partner or to listen to his side of the story. Why? It is because he had strongly internalized that the man was a liar. He never questioned his perception and detected his own prejudices. It is important to recollect how Jinx-philes could sense a positive change in the physical therapist: 
(chapter 22) Yes, it is the view with the star’s back. The author selected such a position on purpose. The face represents the character’s identity and as such his personality. By showing the back, Mingwa is implying that the beholder is full of prejudices and doesn’t know his partner that well. That’s why I judge this image 
(chapter 7) 
(chapter 32) 
(chapter 37) 
(chapter 40) 
(chapter 43) 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 47) Looking at his face had become his new secret ritual and as such his source of joy. Naturally, his heart and unconscious were the causes for this new habit. This explicates why he hated hearing the doctor leaving the penthouse during the night: he feared that he would no longer be able to see his cute face. That’s also the reason why Joo Jaekyung got angry/upset, when he saw the doctor turning his head away 
(chapter 51) He wished not to see his “face”. The latter had become his “addiction”. Thus his face in tears came to haunt him. 
(Chapter 54) This nightmare exposed his regret which he tried to deny and bury. At the same time, I have the feeling that his secret desire was to wipe away his tears as well. Nevertheless the problem is that such a love is rather superficial, for people’s body deteriorate over time. What matters in love is a good personality and a good heart. According to Erich Fromm, love is knowledge, respect, care and responsibility. Hence this separation became a necessity for the fighter. Fate had to force him to admit this: 
(chapter 21) and almost got shocked 
(chapter 56), when he imagined that she had died. In reality, he helped financially more the grandmother than Kim Dan himself. Kim Dan is the one he should really empathize with. He has always been a victim of circumstances.
(chapter 17) and 
(chapter 48) As you can see, this detail made me realize that the next chapter should contain reflections from episode 35 and 48, the meeting with an old/new acquaintance. I am writing new and old together on purpose, for Director Choi Gilseok had been the halmoni’s loan shark, but the “hamster” had no idea. Choi Gilseok is the boss of Heo Manwook. If this encounter takes place, it signifies that on the one hand, it will cause pain and suffering to the athlete, on the other hand, this incident will become a “blessing in disguise”, for it will push the champion to reflect and mature. That’s how I had the following revelation. Why did the author ensure that the MMA fighter’s shoulder would get badly injured? 
(chapter 5) He is much calmer. He is not oozing red and remaining silent. He is not burning up inside, in fact he is expressing his thoughts and emotions: 
(chapter 5) In both cases, the athlete asked for his manager’s help. However, as Jinx-philes can sense, there exist two huge differences between the past and present. Back then, Park Namwook didn’t care for Kim Dan. He was just a PT like any other doctor. He didn’t even care that Joo Jaekyung would lose his temper and ruin the sandbag. 
(chapter 5) It was not worrisome in his eyes, because his day would consist of training and punching the sandbag. The problem is that the fighter is no longer coming to the gym and he is not even calling him: 
(chapter 56) Notice that even at the end, readers were not even able to see the PT’s faces: 
(chapter 56) This shows that the athlete is using more and more his intelligence, he is forced to interact with people. He is gradually developing his social skills which stand for COMMUNICATION. And how did he get deceive in the past? 
(chapter 49) These 3 men and The Shotgun have to be seen as a team. Moreover, 4 is a synonym for death. Then, observe that the image from episode 20 contains two villains, the loan shark and the perverted hospital director. 1 +1 = 2. So when we see the number 10, 11, 16, 17 and 18, we could perceive it as an allusion to Heo Namwook, the villain.
(chapter 1) The main lead appears as a beast, triggering the doctor’s fears. He seems to be like an antagonist. However, I believe that it is just a deception. First, Mingwa has clearly stated that the champion is the protagonist of Jinx. As such, he can be neither a villain nor an antagonist. Secondly, though he seems to serve as a barrier, the reality is that Kim Dan is incited to mature and overcome his own fears. In fact, the celebrity represents the opposite notions of “conformity” and “immobility”. He embodies verity, maturity, transformation and progression. The evidence of this perception is the gradual transformation of Kim Dan as an inexperienced PT to a very professional and performant physical therapist. According to my interpretation, the Emperor works as the mirror of truth. He confronts the delusional physical therapist with his mental and emotional issues, like here: 
(chapter 42) He only relied on his hands. He was forced to become a serious and confident PT!!
(chapter 1) The star was just waiting, and not threatening the doctor. As you can see, Joo Jaekyung doesn’t appear like a threat or a monster. But this doesn’t end here. One detail caught my interest. The champion is associated with blue. It is his true color, whereas Kim Dan is “red”, like a sweet strawberry. So why does this young man ooze a red aura, when his true shade is blue like water 
(chapter 11) The coach is yelling for Joo Jaekyung’s comment, yet the reality is that the manager didn’t treat Kim Dan at all. In fact, he feigned ignorance. Moreover, look at the champion’s t-shirt: 
(chapter 26) In this composition, I compared the MMA star with a leopard and Park Namwook to a spider: 
(chapter 11) And I can prove my statement by showing the episode where she appears: 
(chapter 9) or other events like this one: 
(chapter 37) Buying in secret junk food.
(chapter 1)
I came to this revelation thanks to this article:
. (chapter 46) This would explain the champion’s emptiness and darkness: 
(chapter 21) and Kim Miseon’s reproach to Kim Dan could be seen as an indirect allusion. And if my interpretation about her number is correct, then we would have a good explanation why Kim Dan was unable to perceive her true nature, but also why she is so selfish.
(chapter 53) Only the logo is red. 
(chapter 53) It is important, because it announces the manager’s resignation. He doesn’t want to become responsible for the mess. Unconsciously, he is no longer claiming to be the owner of the gym. Furthermore, notice that the grandmother desires to return to the West Coast in order to see an ocean of “fire”. 
(chapter 35) In episode 16 and 17, the presence of the sun is a reference to the MMA fighter, it is announcing his arrival. This corresponds to the color I had detected with the first scheme: 
MFC with the blue “ring” embodies this pigment, just like the ocean. In other words, blue should be the dominant color in season 2, and in Taoism blue stands for YIN! On the other hand, Kim Dan also represents red with his name. Moreover, if you look at the numbers of the quoted episodes again, you will realize that the villains are strongly connected to the number 10 and as such one and zero. Thus Director Choi Gilseokf’s phone number is 010-1…. 
(chapter 46) 
(chapter 37) He never complimented him for his hard work at all. 
(chapter 18), until the champion confronted the protagonist with reality. 
(chapter 46) He avoided a confrontation. This number symbolizes how the lead feels burdened by obligations imposed by his oppressor, who positions himself as provider of “stability” while actually fostering dependence and draining his victim. And naturally, in the same chapter, we have a similar interaction between Heo Manwook, the minion and his hyung, the real boss: 
(chapter 46) Here, the director was reminding him of his mistakes and obligations. However, this time the boss chose to become proactive and responsible. 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 13) They are strongly intertwined with the color green and as such blue. In literature, art, and psychology, the color blue often represents calmness, loyalty, and introspection.This fits to the description made by the author concerning season 2. The latter would focus more on emotions and thoughts than on the plot. And now, it is time to reveal why in the illustration I added the number 9.
(chapter 9) The leopard agreed and that’s how they came to argue about his home the next morning: 
(chapter 10)- So from 9 to 18, the story is focusing on the doctor’s home. In episode 18, Joo Jaekyung invites the poor physical therapist to his home. 
(chapter 18) Then in episode 19, Joo JAekyung is not asking for his “help”, until he calls him. But even here, he is refusing to prepare his partner: 
(chapter 19) As for Kim Dan, the latter doesn’t feel truly needed as PT, hence he is already thinking about taking another job: 
(chapter 27) He encourages his VIP client to take a break by remaining by his side. However, this attempt fails, as in episode 29 
, (chapter 29) the champion rejects the idea of resting for a day. Then after the incident with the article, at no moment Kim Dan offers his assistance to help the champion. He remains totally passive, 
(chapter 39) The problem is that it is related to a drug and sex. This has nothing to do with his job or career. Interesting is that in episode 45, for the first time, Joo Jaekyung voiced his needs to have him as a PT: 
The end of Joo Jaekyung’s torment. He doesn’t need to chase after him.
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 13) He is definitely sure that this man won’t betray him. He is not judging him for his job or “sexual preferences”. He embodies fairness, tolerance and impartiality. And since in his cellphone, Doctor Cheolmin is registered under the name Cheolmin hyung, it exposes his closeness with this cute doctor. He is like a “brother”. 
(chapter 13) This gesture with the hand implied not only that he was just looking forward to meeting him again, but also generosity. And if there was a request from Cheolmin, it was just about an information: 
(chapter 13) It had nothing to do with money and promoting his hospital.
(chapter 33) According to me, the man was calling his friend Cheolmin, because he truly believed that the actor had been hurt. The fact that he went to the rooftop in order to call the person is indicating that he desires to hide his contact from Park Namwook and Jeong Yosep. In other words, he was seeking secrecy, exactly like the actor. As you can see, the dragon and the gumiho had a similar attitude. They thought that the rooftop was the perfect place to hide a secret. So by calling Cheolmin who is working at a hospital, the MMA fighter was making sure that there would be no scandal. However, when he called him, he discovered the truth. Choi Heesung had faked his injury. Therefore how could he use his connection with Cheolmin, when there was no emergency? In his eyes, he would have abused his busy friend’s generosity. That’s the reason why the star chose not to intervene. If he had revealed the truth and as such accused the actor of deception, he would have no one by his side to prove the truth. It was one man against two. Secondly, by revealing his presence on the rooftop, he would have been forced to mention his close friend: Cheolmin hyung. His connection with the athlete would have raised some question. And because he didn’t utilize the Joker in that situation, he became a victim of a trick. It is important, because the champion’s decision to hide Cheolmin’s existence from Jeong Yosep and Park Namwook is a sign that deep down, he is not trusting his two other hyungs. In my eyes, it is related to his homosexuality. But there could be other reasons as well, for example he met this doctor, before he became a celebrity. 
(chapter 33) For me, the doctor was the person Joo Jaekyung was talking to. Interesting is that contrary to episode 33, he didn’t leave the inn in order to talk to his acquaintance. In fact, he did it in front of the door. By acting that way, he didn’t attract the attention from the members. No one questioned the celebrity why he was talking on the phone for quite some time. They just imagined that it was work-related due to the selfie with a stan. 
(chapter 43) This exposes violation of social norms and even the disrespect towards Joo Jaekyung. He is just seen as a cash cow, hence there was no thank you from them or even a short invitation for him, like Park Namwook and Kim Changmin had done it in episode 9. 
(chapter 9) 
(chapter 9) In fact, Joo Jaekyung was totally neglected at the restaurant, no one even paid attention to his actions. Under this light, I recognized why Mingwa created this incident: 
(chapter 43) It was not just to bring the two main leads closer, but also to expose the wrongdoers. If they had waited for him, the champion wouldn’t have drunk some soju from the glass of water, for Kim Dan couldn’t have used his glass.
(chapter 43) That’s why the manager got red, a sign of embarrassment. He realized that they should have all waited for the birthday child. Moreover, don’t forget that the star was even paying the bill. And now, you are wondering if I didn’t diverge from my original topic, the Joker and Cheolmin hyung. No, as this new interpretation helped me to understand why Joo Jaekyung talked to his hyung in front of others. He already sensed that no one was observing him or waiting for him. 
(chapter 43) Moreover, it is possible that the mysterious caller desired to congratulate for his birthday or even to thank for his donation. Let’s not forget that just before his real birthday, the celebrity organized a charity event, and it could be related to Cheolmin’s work place. 
(chapter 13) Here we have a threat from the champion to which Cheolmin replied with a joke. Here, we have the same situation: a threat, but people got scared 
(chapter 43) before Park Namwook tried to relativize the incident. 
(chapter 13). Hence I believe that the other reason why our cute PT didn’t meet Cheolmin in season 1 is that he was not ready to interact with him. Kim Dan needed to mature, to free himself from social norms in order to accept such a man as a “role model”. That’s the reason why I am expecting the return from this mysterious doctor in season 2. In my opinion, he will play a central role in dethroning the king Park Namwook at Team Black, but also in helping Kim Dan to obtain justice. Keep in mind that according to me, the protagonist was a victim of many crimes committed by doctors. (The hospital director, Kim Miseon, MFC doctors)
(chapter 35) He offered his assistance, but at no moment the main lead thought of even asking for his help. 
(chapter 30). Here, I am excluding the scene with his drunkenness. Nevertheless, from his words, Heesung couldn’t detect that he was raised by a single grandmother. He already had a hard time to “accept” the champion’s benevolence 
(chapter 18) He was brainwashed to rely only on himself. Why? It is related to his halmeoni and his childhood. The elderly woman gave the impression that she raised him without any help. She did everything on her own which is only partially true. The young boy was forced very early on to help her. 
(chapter 23), he just acted as their “PT” and nothing more. In other words, he acted, as if they only had a professional relationship. This explicates why Kim Dan never talked about himself, in other words he never shared any information with them. However, I doubt that he just considered them as his “patients”. He was happy to give his assistance. For me, the fact that he never lowered his guard is a sign of his low-esteem. So they had a strictly professional relationship, except with Potato. 
(chapter 7) She needs to pay a nurse to give her some company. Therefore she is forced to rely on her grandson. Then she doesn’t pay any attention to her grandson’s needs and circumstances, for she is only focused on her own suffering and “unhappiness” chasing after an illusion. 
(chapter 53) Because she has no one by her side except Kim Dan, she has no problem to move to a different place where she doesn’t know anyone. Her grandchild is her “home”. This move reminded me a lot to a uprooting. It was, as though the male lead was not allowed to settle for good. Don’t forget that her deteriorated home let transpire that she didn’t consider this place as her true home. It was just a stopping-place. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Kim Dan could never get any friend. Through the cards, I could find more evidences about my past interpretation. The halmeoni is responsible for the protagonist’s self-blame, lack of confidence, suffering and isolation. 
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 49), it signifies that Joo Jaekyung could have become involved in this type of games: 
(chapter 48) This remark outlines the manager’s neglect. His boy has no protection, though he had already become the target of a “malicious fan” according to the “fake investigation”. Moreover, in the office, Park Namwook is finally admitting the existence of illegal gambling, a topic which was never brought up before. 
(chapter 49) The drop of his face is not only indicating his discomfort, but also his lie. It is because if he had met the director from King Of MMA, he could have been suspected of being a traitor or a spy. Thus I come to the following theory: Park Namwook knew about the meeting between the director of Choi Gilseok and Kim Dan. Let’s not forget that the physical therapist encountered the villain right in front of the gym and Kwak Junbeom was a witness of their meeting. 
(Painter Of The Night, chapter 7) Jung In-Hun from Painter Of The Night is the perfect illustration. The latter had the impression to be superior to others due to his knowledge. He imagined to have fooled Yoon Seungho. Thus he envisioned that he had been able to manipulate the main lead, whereas the opposite had happened. Finally, the scholar had the tendency to dream big, which led him to his doom. On the other hand, since Matthew Rayner 
from Under The Green Light decided to wear spectacles in order to avoid rejection and fear, I deduce that Park Namwook represents a combination of both metaphors. On the one hand, he is hiding his true thoughts behind the spectacles. He also has high ambitions and he is not entirely honest to his “boss”, like I exposed it in the last composition. On the other hand, there is no doubt that the man is also motivated by fears. 
(chapter 53) They serve him as shield literally and figuratively. No one would punch or slap a man wearing glasses. Furthermore, he is protecting his own heart and mind that way. It was, as if he was closing his eyes to reality. That’s the other reason why I believe that the coach is not entirely ignorant about the existence of corruption in MFC. Yet, I couldn’t help myself noticing the absence of Park Namwook’s eyes, especially at the end of the season 1. Jinx-philes could only see them, when he voiced his anger towards his “champion”: 
(chapter 52) After that outburst, they vanished behind the glasses. 
(Chapter 52) By putting them back, he is displaying that he is acting again. His hidden eyes may also hint at an emotional or moral blindness, as though he either cannot or chooses not to see the deeper consequences of his actions or the corruption around him. And now, you comprehend why he stands for fake gratitude and fake compassion. His mouth is not reflecting his mind.
(chapter 52) Park Namwook removed his spectacles, when he cried. However, notice that he still protected his eyes by using his arm. A sign for his dishonesty in my opinion. Moreover, it indicates how guarded and mistrustful this man is. At the same time, it becomes clear why he had to remove them. It is because the glasses are a mask. The tears would not have been visible. I would even add that this man was mimicking a crying person, as his weeping stopped very quickly. He needed to awake compassion or sympathy, for he had acted like a ruffian at the hospital. He had used violence on a patient.
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 