Please support the authors by reading Manhwas on the official websites. This is where you can read the Manhwa: Jinx But be aware that the Manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. Here is the link of the table of contents about Jinx. Here is the link where you can find the table of contents of analyzed Manhwas. Here are the links, if you are interested in the first work from Mingwa, BJ Alex, and the 2 previous essays about Jinx The Man Who Knew Too Much – part 1 and part 2
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The Language of Foreshadowing
Have you ever noticed how Jinx often tells us what is about to happen, long before the characters themselves realize it? I am quite certain that my avid readers are already thinking about the puppy 
(chapter 57) and its future adoption which got reinforced with the reappearance of an old picture showing Kim Dan holding a puppy. 
(chapter 94)
Yet a small detail from episode 93 (!) caught my attention, and I couldn’t ignore it. Do you remember the breakfast scene in episode 18? 
(chapter 18) Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung are sitting together, but there is still a distance between them. And between them, almost quietly, hangs a painting: a winter landscape. Bare trees, cold tones, a distant city. Everything feels still… almost frozen. 
(chapter 18) This image reflects their state at that moment, that’s why it is placed between them, even behind them. They are close in space, yet emotionally far apart — trapped in silence, routine, and roles. Alive, but not truly living. At the same time, this shows how they treat their past and themselves. Additionally, they seem to draw a line between themselves and others, as if hiding behind invisible walls. Present, yet unreachable.
The painting reinforces this impression. It is not shown as a single, unified image, but divided into separate panels. Fragmented—just like them. They are not whole.
Much later, in episode 93, we encounter a similar composition. 
(chapter 93) The setting remains, but the painting has changed. Winter has given way to a living landscape: trees with leaves, a mountain rising in the background, and beneath it a stretch of water reflecting the light. 
(chapter 93) The atmosphere is warmer, softer, alive … yet not fully bright. The colors matter. The trees are not green, but muted—brown, almost beige. Life has returned, but it remains subdued, as if the scene itself is hesitating between seasons. And yet, the structure persists. The image is still divided. The fragmentation remains—but the distance between the panels has narrowed.
This shift is not incidental. It reflects a transformation in both Joo Jaekyung’s and Kim Dan’s internal states. (chapter 93) The winter of isolation gives way to a quieter, emerging warmth—one that prepares the ground for the conversation on the beach. There, under the amber light of the setting sun, this internal change becomes visible: what was once buried in silence begins to surface, and what once signified loneliness is reinterpreted as endurance.
But the characters are not whole yet. The walls have not disappeared. They had only begun to soften, until the both of them went to the beach together.
So what exactly are we witnessing here? 
(chapter 94) A simple change in atmosphere? A moment of intimacy? Or the beginning of a deeper transformation in the way Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung perceive themselves and, above all, each other?
To answer that question, we need to look more closely at what comes next. I would like to begin with a contrast: the expensive golden keychain on the one hand, and the beach conversation on the other. Why gold then—and why amber now?
Gold as Silence
The contrast began long before the beach. On his birthday, Kim Dan tried to express what he felt through a gift and a card. He chose an expensive golden keychain 
(chapter 55) —something polished, valuable, appropriate. Alongside it, he wrote a message that sounded careful, respectful, almost rehearsed: 
(chapter 55) “I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” “I’ll work even harder.” “I hope to work with you for many years.” At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. The gesture was thoughtful, the words polite. And yet, something felt restrained.
The language belonged to a world of duty and hierarchy. It reflected the position Kim Dan believed he had to occupy: a subordinate expressing gratitude to someone above him. His words were correct—but they were not fully his. And the card itself revealed that.
He began to write “To be honest”… but stopped after “To be ho”.
(chapter 55) The letters were erased before the sentence could even exist. This is not a correction. It is a hesitation made visible. The thought emerged—but it was interrupted. Before honesty could take shape, it was already suppressed.
What remained on the card was therefore not what he first intended to say, but what he allowed himself to say. What was missing was not sincerity, but freedom. He did not speak from a place of confidence, but from a need to maintain balance. The gift and the card functioned as a safe substitute for something he could not yet articulate. They allowed him to remain within the structure he knew: gratitude, effort, loyalty.
Gold, in this context, carried a precise meaning.
It represented value, recognition, and status. It was something that could be measured, offered, and accepted without ambiguity. But it was also impersonal. It created distance rather than closing it. The keychain was expensive, but carried no warmth of its own.
This only becomes fully clear later, on the beach. 
(chapter 94) There, when he finally spoke without the protection of formality, his words shifted. He admitted what had remained hidden at the time of the gift: To be honest, he did not think he could do it. He did not feel confident enough to stay by Joo Jaekyung’s side. 
(chapter 55) Though his words seemed clear, this “hope” was not entirely his. It was shaped by something that had not yet been severed. At that point, Kim Dan had not truly separated himself from his grandmother. 
(chapter 94) His sense of self was still tied to her—emotionally, morally, almost structurally. He was not yet standing on his own, but continuing a role he had long internalized: enduring, adapting, staying where he was needed.
So when he spoke of “many more years,” it was not the expression of a free decision. It was an extension of obligation. 
(chapter 41) A continuation of a life he had learned to accept, rather than one he had chosen. This is why the card feels so careful, so measured. Not because he lacked sincerity – but because he lacked strength in his eyes.
And the erased beginning—“To be ho”—makes this even clearer. Because what he had wanted to say was not a promise. It was doubt. He did not trust himself. 
(chapter 51) And because of that, he clung to Joo Jaekyung—not simply as an employer, but as a figure through whom he could stabilize his own sense of worth. Remaining by his side, working harder, staying useful… all of this allowed him to compensate for what he felt he lacked. (chapter 55)
His “hope” was therefore not an expression of desire, but a strategy. A way to hold himself together. This is why the confession on the beach reframed the entire birthday scene. (chapter 94) He can no longer use his grandmother or the champion to define himself, as their collaboration is limited in time as well.
What had once appeared as gratitude now revealed itself as restraint. What had sounded like commitment now exposed hesitation. And what looked like gold… turned out to be something else entirely. Under this new light, we begin to understand why Kim Dan could neither confess his affection—nor fully express his gratitude.”
(chapter 45) Because gold, in that moment, could only represent value imposed from the outside—status, reward, recognition.
But the sunset on the beach spoke a different language. 
(chapter 94) And perhaps this shift is not only carried by words—but already visible.
If we look closely, something subtle emerges. (chapter 94) The colors of the scene echo the keychain itself. (chapter 55) The gold, of course—but also the red and black attached to it. On the beach, these same tones reappear in what they wear, in how they are visually composed within the frame.
What had once existed as an object—held, offered, external—now surrounds them. It is no longer something exchanged between them. It is something they inhabit together. (chapter 94) But there is more. They are not simply sitting side by side. They are looking at each other. And that gaze changes everything. Because for the first time, the connection is no longer mediated—neither by a gift, nor by roles, nor by unspoken expectations. It is direct. Mutual. Sustained. The gaze becomes the binding element.
It replaces the object. It replaces the silence. And in doing so, it creates something new. Without fully realizing it, they begin to form the outline of a team—one that is no longer defined by hierarchy or obligation, but by presence and recognition.
Not of display, but of transformation. Not of perfection, but of something preserved, altered, and made meaningful over time. And this is why I could no longer associate that scene with gold. The gold had spoken in his place—but it had spoken the wrong language. Only later did Kim Dan begin to replace that language with something more direct, more vulnerable. And it is precisely at that moment that the tone of the story begins to change.
The shift from gold to amber starts here.
Between Silence and Honesty
If we return to the beach scene, something immediately stands out—not only what Kim Dan says, but how he says it.
“To be honest…” (chapter 94) 
(chapter 94) “If I’m being totally honest…”
This phrasing is not new, as we have seen its interruption before. On the birthday card, the sentence never reached completion. It stopped at “To be ho”. But what was interrupted there was not simply honesty. It was the fear of burdening someone else.
For Kim Dan, speaking honestly had never been neutral. (chapter 94) To express doubt, sadness, or uncertainty meant placing weight on another person. It meant becoming a problem rather than a solution. And this was something he had learned to avoid.
Even in small, seemingly harmless moments, this pattern had already been visible. Being called a “crybaby” may sound trivial
(chapter 94), but it reveals something deeper: emotions were not meant to be expressed freely. They were something to control, to contain, to keep from overflowing. This means that by his grandmother’s side, he learned to hide his suffering behind a smile, something I had long detected.
Sincerity, for him, was inseparable from vulnerability. And vulnerability risked becoming a burden. This is why the sentence could not be completed. “To be honest…” was not just difficult to say. (chapter 94) It was something he believed he should not say.
And yet, on the beach, that same sentence returns. (chapter 94) Not once—but twice. Not as a clean declaration—but as something he repeats, almost carefully, as if testing whether he is allowed to continue. Each time, he creates a small distance before speaking, as if preparing both himself and the other for what might follow.
The hesitation is still there. Either he apologizes or he makes a pause. He lowers his gaze or looks at the horizon. He assumes that what he says might not be welcome. It even becomes truly palpable, when he employs this idiom for the first time on the beach: (chapter 94) He fears reproaches or discomfort. And this is where something shifts. Joo Jaekyung interrupts him: “Don’t say that.”
At first glance, this could sound like a refusal—as if he were rejecting what is about to be said. But in reality, it does something else. He is encouraging Kim Dan to speak. He rejects the assumption behind his words. Not the confession—but the idea that it is unwelcome. In that moment, Kim Dan is not silenced. He is allowed to continue. And this changes everything. He proceeds carefully, but he proceeds. So he is honest, but not yet free. And this is precisely what makes the moment meaningful. Because this time, he does not stop; not because fear has disappeared, but because it is no longer decisive.
And yet, something else becomes visible here. When he later says, (chapter 94), he does not look directly at Joo Jaekyung. His gaze shifts toward the horizon. At first, this might appear as hesitation reflected by the points of suspension, but it carries a different meaning. He is not withdrawing. He is protecting it. Because what he is about to say touches on something deeply personal—not only for himself, but for the other as well. By avoiding direct eye contact, he creates a space in which Joo Jaekyung does not have to respond, does not have to defend himself, does not have to expose what he may not yet be ready to show. In this sense, his restraint is not a sign of fear or shame. It is a form of respect. A way of allowing honesty to exist without embarrassing the other and forcing him into vulnerability.
To understand why he speaks here—and not before—we need to look at the place itself. 
(chapter 94) The beach is not a random setting.
But there is another reason why this place matters. Kim Dan does not only go there when he is alone. 
(chapter 59) He goes there when he is struggling—when something within him can no longer be contained. 
(chapter 94) In those moments, the usual mechanisms—enduring, adapting, maintaining balance—begin to loosen. The roles he has learned to perform no longer fully hold. And this is what links the beach to something more fundamental.
Honesty. Because if we think back, the first time this place was truly defined was not through him—but through his grandmother. 
(chapter 53) At the hospital, she spoke openly. She expressed regret, desire, and a final wish without filtering it, without protecting him from the weight of it. 
(chapter 53) It was a moment of sincerity that did not try to reduce itself.
And Kim Dan carried that moment with him. So when he returns to the beach, he is not only seeking comfort. He is returning to a place that has already been marked by truth—a place where emotions are not managed, but felt.
This is also why the scene in episode 59/60 becomes so significant. 
(chapter 60) When he reaches his breaking point, it is here that the boundary between control and collapse begins to dissolve. The beach is no longer just a refuge—it becomes a space where everything that has been contained threatens to surface at once.
And this is what Joo Jaekyung perceives as well. 
(chapter 80) For him, the place becomes associated with something dangerous: loss, disappearance, the possibility of not returning. Hence he taught him later how to swim.
But for Kim Dan, the meaning is different. The beach is not where he wants to disappear. It is where he can no longer pretend. He had come here before, in chapter 59, after Heesung and Potato had left. (chapter 59) It was already a place he chose in difficult moments. Not to avoid something—but to face it in his own way.
And this place carried meaning.
(chapter 53) Through his grandmother , the ocean had been described as something beautiful, something capable of giving strength and comfort 
(chapter 53) — even when experienced alone. It did not require company to feel complete. Kim Dan held onto that idea.
So when he returned here, he did not come empty-handed. He came with an expectation. (chapter 59) That this place could give him something. That it could help him endure. That it might allow him to feel what she had felt—and, perhaps, soften what he himself was feeling. In that sense, the beach was more than a memory. It was a possibility. That’s why he visited the beach, when he was struggling.
But there is another layer to this. The beach was not only a place he returned to when he was struggling. It was also a place through which he tried to reconnect. (chapter 94) Not simply to escape— but to experience, in her place, what she had once described. To share that moment indirectly, as if the beauty of the ocean could bridge the distance between them, soften the absence, and momentarily silence his loneliness.
This is what gave the place its meaning in the past. Because if he could see what she had seen — if he could feel what she had felt — then perhaps he would not be alone in it. (chapter 59) And yet, this meaning does not remain stable.
In episode 94, he returns to the same place—but for a different reason. (chapter 94) Not to maintain the connection — but to bring it to an end.
But this possibility is no longer simple. Because the beach is also tied to his grandmother in another way. 
(chapter 94) When she suggested going for a walk together, he refused, for in his mind, the destination would be the ocean. To go there with her would have meant transforming that space into something else: a shared moment marked by what was about to end (chapter 53). It would have forced him to confront her condition directly, and don’t forget that this place is strongly intertwined with sincerity. He couldn’t mask his feelings. So he postponed it. And instead, he returns later—with Joo Jaekyung.
Now ask yourself: why here, and why with him? Because this is where the scene shifts. Kim Dan did not only come to the beach to find comfort. He also came to reach a form of closure. 
(chapter 94) For the first time, what had always structured him—enduring, adapting, protecting others—no longer works.
And in that moment, he is not alone. Joo Jaekyung is there. He could have stayed in the car. 
(chapter 94) He was even told to. But he didn’t. He chose to remain beside him.
This changes the situation entirely. Because Kim Dan is no longer speaking into silence. He is speaking in the presence of someone who stayed. And that creates a new tension. On the one hand, he still does not want to burden him. On the other, he can no longer remain silent. This is why his honesty takes this form: hesitant, repeated, apologetic—but expressed. So what are we witnessing here?
Not simply a confession. But a shift in conditions. The place offered meaning—but not enough to contain what he felt.
The memory of his grandmother gave direction—but not resolution. 
(chapter 94) And the presence of Joo Jaekyung created something new: A space where silence was no longer the only option. The sentence that once stopped at “To be ho” now reaches its end.
Not because fear has disappeared — but because, for the first time, it is no longer stronger than the need to speak.
The Shore: Where Two Worlds Meet
If we look more closely at the setting of this scene, we begin to understand why it had to take place here—and nowhere else. 
(chapter 94) The beach is not just a backdrop. It is a boundary.
A meeting point between two elements: Water and earth. Movement and stability. Depth and surface.
Water carries memory. It is fluid, unstable, impossible to fully grasp. It reflects what lies beneath—emotion, unconscious experience, everything that cannot easily be contained or articulated. The shore, by contrast, belongs to the realm of the tangible. Sand, ground, the space one can stand on. It represents reality, structure, adulthood—the world of roles and responsibilities.
And where are Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung positioned? (chapter 94) Exactly at that threshold. They are not in the water. They are not fully on stable ground either. They sit at the point where both worlds meet. And psychologically, this position mirrors their state. Both men are suspended between two identities:
- the child shaped by past experiences
(chapter 94) 
(chapter 94) - the adult defined by roles, expectations, and survival strategies
(chapter 94) (chapter 94)
The amber light of the setting sun intensifies this ambiguity. It does not belong fully to day or night. It merges opposites rather than separating them. Just like this moment. Just like them.
But the meaning of this place becomes clearer when we compare two moments that occur here. When the grandmother speaks about Kim Dan, her words establish a distance: 
(chapter 65) Even though they have lived together for years, she positions herself outside his inner world. She observes him—but does not truly reach him. And the image reflects this separation. The water and the sand remain clearly divided. The boundary holds.
Now compare this to the later scene. (chapter 94) Joo Jaekyung appears to create distance—but in reality, he reduces it. The “friend” is himself. What cannot be said directly is nevertheless expressed. And this time, the image of the shore changes. The colors warm. The boundary between water and sand begins to dissolve. The elements no longer remain strictly separated—they begin to blend.
This shift is decisive. Where the grandmother’s words maintained distance, Joo Jaekyung’s words—however indirect—open a space. And this is why Kim Dan can ask a question here. 
(chapter 94) Because he does not interrupt. He listens. 
(chapter 94) He allows the confession to unfold—even in its distorted form. And once it has been spoken, he does something no one else has done before. He recognizes it. (chapter 94) In that moment, indirect speech is no longer needed. What Joo Jaekyung could not say directly is named—clearly, without hesitation. And this act changes the structure of the exchange.
Because Kim Dan is not simply responding. He is translating. 
(chapter 94) Not simply because of the place. But because of who is beside him.
Joo Jaekyung does not fully understand him. But he does something essential. He stays, as he has come to associate solitude with boredom. (chapter 94) He waits and later listens. And he does not turn away. He shows an interest in his thoughts and inner world. (chapter 94)
For the first time, Kim Dan is no longer facing a boundary that reflects distance—but a presence that allows something to pass through it. The shore, then, is not only a line between two worlds. (chapter 94)
But this exchange is not one-sided. Because Joo Jaekyung’s confession does more than reveal something about himself—it creates a form of acceptance and reciprocity. By exposing his own vulnerability, however indirectly, he does not remain outside Kim Dan’s inner world. He steps into it—and, at the same time, invites Kim Dan to do the same. Hence he is now capable to express his true admiration: (chapter 94)
And this changes not only their exchange—but the meaning of the place itself. Because for Kim Dan, the beach had never been just a location. It was tied to a memory that was not his own. To something his grandmother had described—something beautiful, something meaningful—but always experienced alone. What he sought there, in the past, was not simply comfort. Like mentioned above, it was connection.
The hope that, by returning to that place, he might feel what she had felt. That the beauty of the ocean could bridge the distance between them. That it could, even briefly, soften his loneliness. But that experience had always remained incomplete. Because it was never shared. Now, for the first time, that changes.
He is no longer alone in front of the ocean. He is not imagining what someone else once felt. He is living something—here, in the present—with someone beside him. (chapter 94) A moment that is not remembered. Not borrowed. Not projected. But shared.
That’s why he will never forget this moment. Because what he had longed for was not only to be understood—but to experience something meaningful with another person, without distance, without roles, without having to carry it alone.
And this is where the difference with the grandmother becomes clear. She spoke about Kim Dan without ever truly entering his experience. The distance remained intact. Joo Jaekyung, by contrast, does something else. He does not know Kim Dan’s entire past —but he reaches toward him. Not by asking directly. But by making himself available.
And this movement carries an implicit request: (chapter 94) not to remain alone in what has just been revealed.
In other words, Joo Jaekyung is not only confessing. He is asking—quietly, almost unconsciously—to be trusted and as such accepted. And Kim Dan responds to that request. Not by withdrawing. Not by protecting the other through silence. But by speaking.
The shore no longer separates. It begins to connect. Not fully. Not clearly. Not without hesitation. But enough for something new to emerge.
And this “something” can now be named more precisely. (chapter 94): friendship.
Not as a completed bond—but as a shift in how they relate to one another. Until this moment, their interactions had been structured by roles: patient and therapist, employer and subordinate, champion and supporter. Each exchange was framed by function, expectation, or necessity. Here, that structure loosens. They are no longer speaking from their roles—but to each other. Hence they look at each other at the end.
Not to fulfill a function. Not to maintain a balance. But to share something that belongs to neither of those frameworks. The first moment that carries the shape of friendship.
Signs of Direction: Sun, Lighthouse, Pier, and Umbrellas
If the shore marks a boundary, the horizon introduces another question altogether: not where they are, but where they are heading. (chapter 94)
And here, the visual composition becomes extremely revealing. The scene does not simply give us a beautiful beach. It places in front of the reader several structures of orientation: the sun 
(chapter 94), the lighthouse (chapter 94), the pier (chapter 94), and, more discreetly, the red tent with the two umbrellas 
(chapter 94). None of them is accidental. But their meaning is not only symbolic. They reveal something that neither of them have not yet fully realized. That they were never entirely alone.
The Lighthouse and the Sun: Two Models of Survival
The contrast between the two protagonists is rooted in how they seek light. For Kim Dan, orientation was never about an abstract goal, but a concrete person: his grandmother. She was the fixed point that prevented him from drifting into total darkness.
This is why the lighthouse is his defining symbol. (chapter 94) It stands visible and steady—a structure built to guide and prevent loss. Yet, Kim Dan associates it with loneliness. The lighthouse embodies the gap between what is present and what he is able to perceive. It provides direction, but not warmth; it signals, but does not embrace. It stands near, yet remains fundamentally separate. For Dan, the lighthouse represents support without true intimacy—a guidance that keeps him vertical but leaves him emotionally shivering.
Joo Jaekyung operates by a different celestial logic. When he speaks of his “friend,” he associates survival with the sun—a distant, overwhelming source of power. (chapter 94) In Jaekyung’s philosophy, one endures by fixing their eyes on a high, unreachable goal. The sun provides the energy to keep moving, but like the lighthouse, it offers no closeness. It is a strategy of survival based on projection and distance. It kept him alive, but it also kept him isolated. His “goal” is like his life strategy: disciplined and bright, but emotionally unreachable. And what is the common denominator between them? By keeping their gaze on the sun or lighthouse, they couldn’t see that they are surrounded —by nature and by human structures. (chapter 94) They are in reality not alone. The sea, the sky, the light… but also the lighthouse, the pier, the tent.
The Pier: The Human Path
Between the verticality of the lighthouse and the distance of the sun lies the pier. Extending outward into the water, it represents something fundamentally different: not a distant point, not a fixed signal—but a path. A human construction.
A movement toward something not yet reached.
But more importanty, the pier leads toward the lighthouse. 
(chapter 59) In other words, it connects movement to orientation.
And this is exactly what happens in the dialogue.
(chapter 94) his words seem, at first, to reinforce isolation. They reduce human experience to sameness. They remove the possibility of being uniquely understood. But that is only one side of it. Because these words also do something else. They reach Kim Dan. They meet him precisely at the point of his fear: the fear of being alone, of being left behind, of losing the only structure that gave his life direction.
By framing loneliness as something universal, Jaekyung transforms it. Not into something to escape—but into something survivable. And this is where the visual composition becomes decisive. While he speaks, the pier extends behind him—toward the lighthouse. His words follow the same movement. They begin in distance— but they arrive at Kim Dan, the “lighthouse”.
Even if unconsciously, he builds a bridge. On the other hand, his advice reflects his past philosophy. One could say that he isn’t offering empathy, for he is erasing difference. By reducing everyone to a single condition, he creates a defense against true connection. If everyone is “the same,” no one is uniquely lovable or truly distinct. His words reflect his indifference towards others.
Yet, his life contradicts his cynicism. He speaks as if he survived by solo strength, ignoring the “piers” in his own life—people like Hwang Byungchul 
(chapter 72) or his mother. He resists any narrative of dependence because to acknowledge others is to acknowledge vulnerability. He looks at the horizon and overlooks the pier at his side, even though he has been standing on it all along. It is because he was constantly staring at the “sun”. Therefore his reaction is not surprising. 
(chapter 94) To acknowledge others would mean acknowledging vulnerability—not just as a condition, but as something shared. So instead, he generalizes. He replaces relationship with sameness. And in doing so, he protects himself from the risk of trust.
As you can see, each element reflects something about Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung’s inner state and philosophy. This means that as soon as the athlete’s words reached the doctor’s lighthouse, the latter showed him that there was a light much closer to him than the “sun”… the “lighthouse”.
And then there are the more discreet signs in the background: the red tent and the two umbrellas. (chapter 94) These details are easy to overlook, and yet they may be among the most intimate symbols in the entire sequence. Observe that when Kim Dan admits that he wished he had met him sooner, the red tent and the two umbrellas already stand there in the background.
The symbolism is almost painfully clear. The red tent suggests shelter, enclosure, perhaps even the outline of a home. The two umbrellas echo the possibility of shared protection, of two people occupying the same protected space. And yet, neither character has stepped into that space. The tent remains in the distance, just as the umbrellas remain unused. Home exists as a possibility, but it is not yet inhabited.
This is what makes the image so moving. They are no longer completely separate, but they are not “inside” yet either. They are still outside the shelter that awaits them. The home is there, but it has not yet been entered. In other words, the beach scene does not conclude their journey. It stages the threshold of it.
And that is why all these directional symbols matter together.
The sun shows the old logic of survival through distant purpose. The lighthouse shows the old logic of attachment through lonely guidance. The pier shows the beginning of a path toward someone else and stands for connection, endurance and trust. The tent and the umbrellas show the possibility of a shared dwelling that has not yet been claimed.
So the horizon in this scene is not empty at all. It is crowded with future meanings. But none of them is fully realized. The characters are still between states, between models of life, between kinds of love. They can see direction now, but they have not yet arrived. And perhaps this is precisely the point.
The scene does not tell us that they are already safe. It tells us that they are no longer directionless and alone. (chapter 94) They are moving toward each other mentally and emotionally.
The Champion Without a Childhood
And yet, even within this setting, something is still missing. When Joo Jaekyung speaks about his past, the visual language becomes striking.´We do not see a child. (chapter 94)
We see an adult figure—walking through a space that should belong to childhood. A silhouette. A presence without age. It is not simply that the child is absent. It is that he was never allowed to exist. But this absence does not emerge in isolation. It is embedded in the environment itself. Look closely at the setting of his memory. The narrow streets. The damaged houses. The dense accumulation of structures. Everything is gray, as if there was no life at all.
And above all: the mountain in front of him—blocked, obscured, almost inaccessible. He is surrounded by civilization. But not in the sense of protection or community. Rather, as constraint. As enclosure. As a space already marked by hardship, deterioration, and survival. This is not a childhood landscape. It is a system.
And this observation leads me to the following deduction. Jaekyung does not know nature. Not as openness. Not as refuge. Not as something one can enter freely.
The mountain is there —but it is not reachable, as it has lost its true function. The sky is present—but it is not experienced. Everything is filtered through structures. Through walls. Through streets. Through necessity.
This is why the sun becomes so central in his narrative. (chapter 94) Not as beauty. Not as warmth in a relational sense. But as something else: as air. (chapter 94)
As the only available form of escape. When he speaks of finding “a goal to work toward,” and the image shifts toward the sun, this is not just ambition. It is survival. The sun is the only thing that cannot be blocked by his environment. The only thing that exists beyond the system surrounding him. He does not move toward nature. He looks upward—because upward is the only direction that remains open.
And this is precisely where Kim Dan’s response becomes so striking. (chapter 94) He can’t help himself asking him for a confirmation. When Joo Jaekyung begins with (chapter 94), the formulation appears to create distance. It suggests another person, another life, another experience. But this distance does not hold.
Because the narrative that follows immediately undermines it. The “friend” is described as someone who, at a decisive moment, felt as if he was completely alone in the world. 
(chapter 94) Someone who grew up without parents, without siblings, without any form of support. The statement is absolute. It leaves no room for exception. And this is where the logic of the confession reveals itself.
If this person truly experienced himself as entirely alone—if there was no one to rely on, no one to turn to—then the very idea of a “friend” becomes impossible. The term contradicts the condition it describes. (chapter 94) In other words, the story cancels its own premise. The “friend” cannot exist as a separate figure. He can only be the speaker himself. At the same time, the main lead’s confession displays that he has no true friend in his life in the end. These words expose his isolation and loneliness.
In addition, this allows us to understand the deeper structure of his trauma. This is not only parentification. It is deprivation on multiple levels. Emotional, yes. But also spatial. Experiential. He was not only denied care. He was denied an environment in which childhood could unfold. 
(chapter 94), the exact opposite of Kim Dan.
This is why the visual metaphor is so radical. (chapter 94) There is no rupture between past and present. No transition. No visible child. Only continuity. A life that begins already in function. A childhood replaced by endurance.
And this absence is reinforced later. When his mother denies this reality 
(chapter 74), she does not simply reject his suffering. She erases the condition that produced it. Which leaves him with no framework to understand what is missing.
This explains everything. Why he distances himself. (chapter 94) Why he reduces relationships to roles. Why he cannot understand his own emotions. Because there is no internal reference for them. The child is missing.
And this is precisely where the connection to the present becomes decisive. Because the landscape he carries within him—the enclosed streets, the obstructed mountain, the unreachable outside—stands in direct contrast to the image that surrounds him now.
The open horizon. The visible sea. The unobstructed light. (chapter 94) This shared experience makes him see the world in a whole new light. It is no longer gray, but colorful, as he is not alone anymore. He no longer needs to look at the horizon or the sun. 
(chapter 94)
And even more importantly: the painting. (chapter 93) The mountain.
The sunlight. A version of nature that is no longer blocked—but offered. This is not accidental. It suggests something fundamental: what was once inaccessible is now placed before him. But he cannot reach it alone.
This is where Kim Dan’s role becomes clear. Because Kim Dan is not only the one who listens. He is the one who already belongs to that space. He understands nature—not as distance, but as experience. (chapter 94) Not as something to look at—but something to enter.
And this is where we can return to the director’s words. 
(chapter 75) This was never only about people. It was about environment. About perception. About everything that exists beyond the narrow structure in which Jaekyung learned to survive: shared experience.
In that sense, Kim Dan does not simply recognize the child in him. 
(chapter 94) He represents something else: a path. Not upward, like the sun. But outward. Toward a world that was always there— but never truly lived.
The Piercing Amber Gaze
And this is precisely where Kim Dan’s role becomes decisive. When he says, (chapter 94) something subtle, but profound, happens. He is no longer addressing the champion, the figure admired by others for his strength and victories. He is speaking to the child. Not the one who succeeded, but the one who endured. That’s why later the author turned the adult Joo Jaekyung into a “child” (chapter 94) In that moment, admiration shifts into recognition. What is acknowledged is not performance, but survival.
This is where the symbolism of amber becomes essential. Amber is not merely a color. It is fossilized tree resin—something that once flowed from a living organism, exposed to light, warmth, and time. Over time, this fluid substance solidifies, preserving within it traces of what once existed: fragments of life, suspended and protected. For this reason, amber has long been associated with the preservation of time, with memory made tangible, with something that endures beyond its original state. But this preservation is not neutral. What amber holds within it are not only traces of life, but also moments of rupture —organisms (insects, pollen) that were caught, immobilized, unable to escape. In this sense, amber is inseparable from loss. It preserves not only what once lived, but also what was interrupted, what was wounded, what could not continue. It is memory—but memory marked by pain.
But amber carries another layer of meaning. Often described as “sunlight in solidified form,” it is linked to warmth, vitality, and life energy. At the same time, across many cultures, it has been used as a protective talisman—worn to ward off harm, to bring balance, to protect the vulnerable. It is both a carrier of memory and a source of protection. Something that does not erase what has been, but transforms it into something that can be held, endured, and even passed on.
This dual nature is crucial. Because Kim Dan embodies precisely this transformation.
Like amber, he originates from something living—from the “tree,” 
(chapter 41) from a place of growth, exposure, and vulnerability. This interpretation gets once again validated on the beach. (chapter 94) A tree is placed right behind the main lead. Doc Dan has experienced loss, abandonment, and instability. And yet, unlike Joo Jaekyung, he has not responded by distancing himself or hardening into detachment. He has not rejected what he felt. Instead, he has absorbed it.
What he carries is not untouched innocence, but something altered through time—something that has endured. His capacity to care, to attach, to return to others despite the risk of loss is not naïve. It is the result of transformation.
This is what defines his gaze. 
(chapter 94) When Kim Dan looks at Joo Jaekyung, he does not stop at the surface—the fame, the strength, the constructed identity. He perceives what lies beneath it, but he does not expose it in order to dismantle it. He preserves it differently. (chapter 94) And this is where the nature of his admiration becomes clear. Kim Dan does admire strength, but not the kind that needs to be constantly proven or displayed. (chapter 94) He recognizes something prior to all of that: endurance, resistance, the ability to survive without support, without childhood, without refuge.
When he says that enduring such hardship is a testament to Joo Jaekyung’s strength, he does not diminish that strength—he relocates it. (chapter 94) He shows him that it was never dependent on winning, never tied to performance or recognition. It existed long before the fights (chapter 94), long before the titles, long before anyone acknowledged it. And this changes everything. Because if strength has already been proven, then it no longer needs to be demonstrated again and again. It no longer needs to be defended, tested, or confirmed through every challenge.
This is why the moment is both destabilizing and liberating. It destabilizes Joo Jaekyung because it undermines the foundation of his entire system (chapter 94), which was built on proving himself through action and endurance. But at the same time, it frees him from that necessity. For the first time, strength is no longer something he has to chase: it is something he already possesses.
And this shift has a deeper implication, because it directly contradicts the words that had defined him for so long. The father’s voice that told him: 
(chapter 73) A statement that reduced his existence to failure from the very beginning, leaving him with only one option—to prove, endlessly, that this judgment was wrong.
Up until now, everything in his life can be understood as a response to that accusation. Every fight, every victory, every act of endurance functioned as a counterargument. Strength was not something he had—it was something he had to demonstrate, again and again, in order to negate that original condemnation. But Kim Dan’s words on the beach break that logic. (chapter 94) He even wishes, he had known him before so that he could express his admiration much sooner. That’s how the jinx gets removed.
By recognizing his endurance as strength, he removes the need for proof. He does not argue against the past. He does not deny what happened. Instead, he reframes it. What was once the basis for humiliation becomes the evidence of resilience. What was meant to define him as a “loser” is revealed as the very condition that required strength to survive.
In that sense, Kim Dan is not simply comforting him. He is undoing the structure of that internal voice. Because if Joo Jaekyung’s strength is already real—already proven through what he endured—then the accusation loses its power. It no longer requires an answer. It no longer demands a reaction. This is precisely why his response is not verbal, but visual. (chapter 94) He keeps looking at Kim Dan, unable to look away, as if held in place by something he cannot yet fully process. It is not fascination in the superficial sense, but recognition. The words reach a part of him that had remained unaddressed for years. 
(chapter 94) The child, who had long been denied acknowledgment, is finally being seen—and more importantly, affirmed.
If he no longer needs to disprove that he is “nothing,” then he is no longer bound to constant confrontation. He no longer needs to accept every challenge, no longer needs to measure himself through endless trials. For the first time, he can step out of that cycle. He can choose. He can decide what is worth engaging with—and what is not.
In other words, Kim Dan’s recognition does not simply validate him. It releases him. What he is responding to is not only kindness, but accuracy. For the first time, someone names his past without reducing it, without turning it into weakness or failure. (chapter 94) And this is what makes Kim Dan’s words so powerful: they do not impose meaning—they reveal it.
Because in that moment, the structure through which Joo Jaekyung had perceived both himself and others begins to shift. Kim Dan is no longer reduced to a role, no longer confined to the position of a physical therapist or a tool meant to counter his “jinx.” He becomes something else entirely.
A presence. Someone who sees him. Someone who understands him. Someone who reaches him. In other words, for the first time, Joo Jaekyung is able to recognize him not through function, but through relation. Not as a means—but as a person. And this is precisely what opens the possibility of something he has never truly experienced before:
friendship.
This is exactly what amber does. It does not erase the past, nor does it glorify it. It preserves it, but transforms its meaning. What was once a source of isolation becomes something that can be acknowledged. What was once hidden becomes something that can be seen without shame. This is why Kim Dan’s gaze is piercing—not because it is aggressive, but because it reaches what had been sealed away and makes it visible without destroying it.
And this transformation has consequences. Because if his past is no longer a source of shame, but of strength, then it no longer renders him silent. What he had once accepted—criticism, blame, humiliation—because he believed it reflected who he was, begins to lose its legitimacy. The internalized voice that reduced him to nothing is no longer left unanswered. And in doing so, it offers something new. Not judgment. 
(chapter 57) 
(chapter 89) Not expectation. 
(chapter 88) But a form of recognition that restores his position in relation to others. For the first time, he is no longer defined by what was done to him. He is no longer confined to enduring in silence. Instead, he gains something he had been denied: the ability to respond.
To speak back. To defend himself. To demand respect—not as a performance, but as a condition of his existence.
Seeing Each Other
This is why the final image of the scene carries so much weight. (chapter 94)
They sit on the same bench. They face the same horizon. There is no confrontation. That’s why they are no longer facing each other like rivals or challengers. 
(chapter 9) The tension that once structured their encounters has disappeared.No imbalance of power. No role to perform. For the first time, their positions align. (chapter 94)
Earlier, the movement seemed to come from Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 94) Like the pier, he extended something of himself outward—hesitant, indirect, not fully conscious—yet reaching toward the other. His words, even in their abstraction, had begun to bridge a distance. Now, something shifts. It is as if the lighthouse responds. (chapter 94) That’s why doc Dan is wearing the color than the lighthouse. Not by moving—but by illuminating.
By revealing how far that movement has already gone. (chapter 94) By casting light on a path that was not recognized as such. What Joo Jaekyung could not see—what he could not yet name—is made visible through Kim Dan’s recognition. The distance he believed to be absolute is shown to be already crossed, at least in part.
And this changes the meaning of the moment. Because for the first time, they are not approaching each other from opposite sides. (chapter 94) They are already there. Together. And this is why for the first time, they see each other.
Not as:
- champion and employee
- strength and dependence
- giver and receiver
But as two individuals shaped by their past. Two people who have endured. Two people standing—at different points—on the same threshold between what was and what might still become. They are finally friends.
The Direction of The Gaze
So if we return, one last time, to the images that quietly accompanied them—the paintings—we might begin to see it differently. At first, it seemed to reflect distance. (chapter 18) A frozen landscape, divided, silent. Then, later, it changed: the trees regained life, a mountain appeared, water began to reflect the light. The scene softened, but it never became whole. (chapter 93) The fragmentation remained.
And perhaps this is precisely the point. Because what the painting was showing was not only a change in atmosphere—but a direction.
A destination. The forest. The mountain. The water.
Places that exist beyond the walls, beyond the roles they had learned to inhabit. And perhaps the scene in episode 93 makes this even clearer. (chapter 93)
This time, Kim Dan is the one facing the painting. He looks toward the landscape—the trees, the mountain, the water—while Joo Jaekyung sits beside it, almost turned away. The image is closer to him, placed on his side, and yet he does not truly see it. The distance between them has narrowed—but their orientations are not yet the same.
Kim Dan is already aligned with what the painting suggests. Joo Jaekyung is not. The destination is near him—but not yet accessible to him. And this is where their roles begin to shift. The painting is already announcing that doc Dan is taking the lead. Thus Joo Jaekyung followed him to the beach. 
(chapter 94)
Because if the painting indicates a direction—toward the woods, the mountain, a space beyond the structures that confined them—then it is Kim Dan who is able to recognize it. Not because he is stronger. But because he has already learned to move through loss without closing himself off. Hence he could confess in his drunken state and later recognize his feelings pretty quickly. 
(chapter 41)
And this is where the story quietly folds back onto itself. The puppy and the dog we are invited to remember… are no longer there. (chapter 94) They vanished from Doc Dan’s life, exactly like the puppy who is now buried near those same hills and trees. 
(chapter 59) The image of warmth we associate with it is, in reality, the trace of a loss. So he did not just lose his parents, but also pets.
Just like the painting. Just like the beach. What appears as beauty is never separate from what has been lost.
And yet—this is where Kim Dan becomes truly significant. Because despite that loss, he did not turn away.
He did not close himself off 
(chapter 57), nor reduce others to something distant or manageable. Instead, he remained capable of attachment. Of care. 
(chapter 7) Of returning, again and again, to places that carried pain—because they also carried meaning.
In this sense, the painting was never just a background. (chapter 93)
It was a quiet anticipation. Not only of the beach, or the conversation, or the emerging honesty—but of something more fundamental: a way of being. Not whole. Not free from fragmentation. But no longer frozen.
And perhaps this is why the image never becomes fully bright. Because what we are witnessing is not a completed transformation—but a movement. From silence to speech. From distance to presence. From loss… to the possibility of loving again.
And perhaps this is where the meaning of that moment on the beach becomes clearest. Because this is also where Joo Jaekyung begins to find an answer to a question he could not yet articulate: 
(chapter 93) “ The answer is not given to him directly. It appears in front of him on the beach. (chapter 94)
In the way Kim Dan looks at him—without distance, without calculation, without turning away. There is no performance in that gaze, no role to maintain. Only a quiet, unguarded presence. And in that moment, something shifts.
The one who had learned to distance himself, to objectify, to control… is now confronted with something he cannot reduce. Not strength. Not obligation. But something else. Something he does not yet fully understand — but can no longer ignore. Love. And perhaps this is why the image lingers. Because while the champion is still searching for words, the “child” has already sensed it.
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(chapter 94) In this moment we learn that Kim Dan lost his parents in an accident when he was a child, though we shouldn’t trust this confession as the truth due to the debts. Anyway, the word “accident” immediately resonates with a principle that has appeared again and again throughout the story: someone being at the wrong time, at the wrong place.
(chapter 40) What appears to be coincidence is often carefully engineered.
(chapter 36) At the same time, social medias were manipulated in order to stir public pressure and push the champion toward accepting the match in the States. 
(chapter 36) But we only discover this MO thanks to the match with Arnaud Gabriel and the Entertainment agency’s involvement. 
(chapter 81) 
(chapter 52) Officially, the story suggested that his own behavior had caused the problem. In reality, however, this removal also had another function: it cleared space for Baek Junmin’s rise. That’s the reason why the article with The Shotgun was placed directly below the star’s and why the director Hwang Byungchul accepted easily the disqualification of his former pupil. 
(chapter 71)
(chapter 54) He was increasingly portrayed as reckless and irresponsible for continuing to fight despite his condition. 
(chapter 54) In this new narrative, the original leak of confidential medical information was no longer treated as the real wrongdoing. The focus shifted entirely onto the athlete himself. 
(chapter 70) Once such stories enter public discourse—injury, temper, arrogance—every later incident can be read as confirmation. The narrative becomes self-reinforcing. The media no longer merely reports events; it prepares the framework through which future events will be judged.
(chapter 37) and the suspicious spray 
(chapter 49) used during the manipulated match both belong to this category. These substances create uncertainty about the athlete’s physical condition and about the legitimacy of his treatment. But this implies the involvement of the pharmaceutical industry. 
(chapter 41) 
(chapter 40) The scene resembled a police investigation, yet these men were not representatives of the state. Hence there was no translator and lawyer. They were dressed-up employees of a private organization whose primary objective is to protect the company from scandal and as such from losing money
(chapter 40) At first glance, this strategy appears effective. By redirecting attention toward the therapist, the organization can distance itself from the real problem: the suspicious beverage that had been introduced into the environment of the fight.
(chapter 40) A doctor took a blood sample from Kim Dan, and the laboratory later produced a component analysis report. 
(chapter 41) 
(chapter 41) This coincidence exposes another layer of the mechanism. While the laboratory analysis confirms that an illicit substance had been present, the medical authorities simultaneously authorize the champion to continue fighting. The two decisions cannot easily be separated. Together, they suggest that the involvement of the doctors helps stabilize the narrative: the suspicious beverage becomes a secondary issue, while the focus shifts toward the champion’s physical condition and his decision to fight despite his shoulder injury.
(chapter 40) That’s why they needed a scapegoat. First Kim Dan, later antis and finally the athlete himself. And who fears a scandal in Jinx? One might say Park Namwook 
(chapter 31) who always hides behind authorities and shows distrust toward fighters. But he is just reflecting the attitude of the other MFC accomplices.
(chapter 50) Observe that in the locker room, the coach declares the athlete as fit despite the injury before going to the health center. The chronology is important, as the MFC doctors have the final saying. So when the champion is taken to the health center before the fight. the responsibility is shifted.
(chapter 54) Hence Park Namwook remained passive. 
(chapter 69) apologized for the behavior of the security staff toward one of Joo Jaekyung’s team members. 
(chapter 69) Significantly, this apology took place behind closed doors, not in front of the media, and doc Dan is still left in the dark about it. The goal was therefore not transparency but damage control. They were in reality attempting to bury everything, to buy some time, until the athlete would lose his next match. 
(chapter 69) The problem was reduced to a matter of manners rather than a potential security failure or institutional complicity. In this way, the apology functioned less as an admission of guilt than as a mechanism to close the case quietly before it reached the public sphere. 
(chapter 91), drinks , smoking, 
(chapter 65), or other forms of contamination, each incident would undermine Kim Dan’s credibility as a medical professional. If the therapist can be portrayed as irresponsible, incompetent, or compromised by substances, the institutional narrative could once again shift responsibility onto him.
(chapter 52), Kim Dan is no longer present. After confronting him and suspecting a betrayal
(chapter 51), Joo Jaekyung leaves the locker room alone and goes to the health center. And don’t forget that before, he even refused his treatment for the ankle injury before. 
(chapter 50) 
(chapter 50) He therefore has no knowledge of what happens there: the medical examination, the decisions taken by the doctors, and the institutional narrative that later emerges from this encounter. 
(chapter 51) But this time, the pattern is disrupted. Kim Dan is not there when the institutions intervene. 
(chapter 52) 
(chapter 48) Photographs of him had been sent to Joo Jaekyung, suggesting that the physical therapist might have been communicating with Baek Junmin through the director of the other gym. 
(chapter 51) Confronted with these images and the growing confusion surrounding the match, the champion reaches a painful conclusion: that his roommate may have betrayed him.
(chapter 51)
(chapter 52) By that point, the circumstances have already changed. The use of the switched spray introduces a new dimension to the case, and with it the possibility that another authority must intervene.
(chapter 52) The situation now risks attracting the attention of the police. As you can see, by remaining passive, Joo Jaekyung in his own way protected the physical therapist from real trouble. If he had truly blamed him, he could have “called” the police, but he did not. 
(chapter 74) The coincidence between these two moments—chapter 52 and chapter 74—suggests more than a simple narrative repetition. Both situations involve the same institutional actor: the police.
(chapter 74) has a similar wound on the forehead than The Shotgun. 
(chapter 74) If Baek Junmin had orchestrated that earlier event, the strategy would have been simple but effective. Instead of attacking his rival directly, he could create circumstances that forced the authorities themselves to intervene. But why would he involve the police, when he is involved in the criminal world? Such a tactic would allow him to remove or weaken Joo Jaekyung without openly violating the protection imposed by his hyung 
(chapter 74), who had explicitly forbidden him from harming the champion.
(chapter 74) —Junmin could ensure that the story presented to the authorities pointed toward Joo Jaekyung. For the students involved, the arrangement would offer a practical advantage: financial compensation and a chance to escape their own precarious situation. But for that stunt, The Shotgun got to pay a heavy price: not only the scar on his forehead 
(chapter 93), but also a life in the shadow forever. It is clear that he could never get rich and famous through his illegal fights. Hence he resents the main lead so deeply.
(chapter 93) The authorities perform the task that Junmin himself is forbidden to carry out.
(chapter 18) He knows how the criminal world functions.
(chapter 91) The article reports that the director of X General Hospital was accused of sexual harassment by several members of the hospital staff. The scandal eventually forced the institution to suspend his medical license. Yet the wording of the report also exposes an important detail: the hospital reacted slowly, and the affair was handled primarily as an internal disciplinary matter.
(chapter 90)
(chapter 59) 
(chapter 79) 
(chapter 87) By issuing the challenge in front of the cameras, the champion forces the MFC to respond. Even though the season had effectively ended, the public nature of the declaration creates pressure that the organization and the media cannot easily ignore.
(chapter 94), the situation could disrupt the plans surrounding the anticipated fight with Baek Junmin.
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 88)
(chapter 91) The athlete exposed him to situations that forced him to grow stronger and more independent. He shared his thoughts and philosophy to his “pupil” as well 
(chapter 94) The champion carried the weight of his past—his violent environment, the humiliation he endured, and the circumstances that shaped his rise. Speaking about these events would have meant revealing parts of his life he preferred to bury. 
(chapter 94) The conversation on the beach changes this dynamic. By confessing his past to Kim Dan, Joo Jaekyung frees himself from the silence that had protected his enemies. The shame that once prevented him from speaking begins to lose its power.
(chapter 93) Beneath the apparent calm of the chapter lies a growing tension: secrets circulate quietly, alliances remain uncertain, and certain characters may already know more than they should. 
(chapter 93)
(chapter 93) linked to their previous night together. During the night they shared, the invisible wall that once separated them seemed to disappear completely. Their intimacy was no longer defined by domination or obligation. Instead, the encounter suggested equality (position of 69)
(chapter 92) and reciprocity—an exchange, as Joo Jaekyung himself described it, of “give and take.” 
(chapter 92) In a striking reversal, Kim Dan took the initiative 
(chapter 92), after being asked about his own desires. 
(chapter 92) He was no longer driven by shame, debt or obligation. 
(chapter 92) For the champion, the moment carried the weight of something deeper than physical pleasure 
(chapter 92), for he was able to give pleasure to his partner. Thus his self-esteem could only be boosted. For Kim Dan, however, it remained simply sex. 
(chapter 92) The imbalance between their interpretations already foreshadowed the tension that would emerge the following morning.
(chapter 93) For the first time, he establishes a clear boundary. The gesture signals a new stage in his personal development: for the first time, Doc Dan speaks as a professional, as a physical therapist 
(chapter 93) who knows his role and his responsibilities. He refuses the help with the meals not out of pride, but because he clearly frames it as part of his job. In the past, he would have simply listened, letting others decide or speak in their name 
(chapter 42); now he asserts his own authority and expertise. But just as this moment seems to mark a quiet step forward in their dynamic 
(chapter 93), the narrative abruptly widens its focus, drawing the reader away from this personal shift toward a far more ominous development unfolding elsewhere. 
(chapter 93)
(chapter 93) separating him from Choi Gilseok and Heo Manwook. The atmosphere of that scene is strangely detached. Junmin seems unconcerned with the financial urgency discussed around him; his attention is fixed instead on the cellphone. Yet the readers cannot see what he is watching 
(chapter 93), while he casually blows a bubble of gum, creating a small moment of distraction that contrasts with the tension of the conversation around him. Only when he eventually reaches for the calendar on the desk, 
(chapter 46) Yet even before examining the room itself, the exterior sign already introduces an intriguing ambiguity. The building is labeled 
(chapter 93) The furniture thus reinforces the same strategy as the office name itself: it maintains the appearance of a respectable business while the violence of the operation is carefully kept out of sight.
(chapter 93), who confronts victims and manages the loan shark operation. Yet the scene gradually reveals that he is less a true mastermind than a frontman—a visible intermediary who handles the dirty work. 
(chapter 46) Hence he calls Choi Gilseok “boss” and asks about the current situation. 
(chapter 42), delivering food or packages across the city during the night. His work is built on the same basic principle: completing tasks and transporting items for others which exposed him to dangers and shame. 
(chapter 42) The parallel is subtle but revealing. While Kim Dan runs legitimate errands for the athlete’s sake, the criminals in the Errand Center perform their own “services” within the shadow economy. Both operate within a system of delivery and obligation—yet one side does so out of feelings, while the other exploits the structure for predatory purposes. Gratitude versus Greed. 
(chapter 46). The operation looked methodical, almost professional, as if a genuine investigative agency had been hired to monitor the champion’s environment.
(chapter 11) At that moment, the loan shark explicitly raised the possibility of money laundering. This detail suddenly casts the entire network in a different light. The illegal gambling operations visible on Heo Manwook’s computer are therefore not merely a source of profit; they may also serve as a mechanism through which larger sums of money circulate and are quietly reintegrated into the legal economy. 
(chapter 46) In this structure, Choi Gilseok himself appears less like the true mastermind than another intermediary in a much larger financial chain.
(chapter 46) In chapter 46, he was already acting behind the back of that parent company, manipulating events to influence the outcome of the fight. Later developments—such as the conversation at the café with Kim Dan and the suspicious use of the spray—suggest that he may eventually have received support from that higher structure. 
(chapter 52) and manipulating the situation through the switched spray, he appears to have pursued his own strategy within the system.
(chapter 46) In other words, the champion was originally the system’s most valuable asset. His visibility and reputation attracted attention, betting activity, and therefore profit. However, once he disrupted the carefully orchestrated mechanisms behind the fights, that same visibility became dangerous. The athlete who once generated the most revenue suddenly turned into the network’s greatest liability. From that moment onward, the logic of profit shifted into the logic of elimination.
(chapter 69). They know, for instance, that Heo Manwook once misunderstood the name “Team Black,” interpreting it as a brothel rather than a gym 
(chapter 16). Jinx-Lovers have seen fragments of the schemes unfolding behind the scenes and can therefore begin to assemble the existence of several overlapping plots.
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 93) He speaks himself. Addressing the disgraced hospital director, he offers to erase the man’s debt—on the condition that he carries out a task for him. 
(chapter 93) That’s why he is smirking. The wrongdoing will be carried out by someone else, allowing him to stay in the shadows as he always has. Yet Junmin underestimates the weight of his own words. 
(chapter 42)
(chapter 93) Hence the director asks him this question. He is now taking the lead. Knowledge and liability become inseparable. Once the doctor accepts the offer, Junmin’s words effectively pull the trigger: the moment the deal is spoken aloud, the hidden system that sustained the illegal fights begins to lose its stability. By drawing the corrupted medical world directly into the operation, the fighter who once thrived in the shadows may in fact become the spark that accelerates the collapse of the entire machine. I would even add, with this new stunt, he is not realizing that he could be blamed for the past crimes (drugged beverage, switched spray etc.).
(chapter 16) Doc Dan’s hand got crushed and the former hospital warden is warned that he might lose his fingers; thus he might no longer be able to work. 
(chapter 46), collect debts 
(chapter 11), intimidate victims, and ensure that money continues to circulate through the laundering mechanism. In this sense, the repeated focus on hands and fingers becomes meaningful. 
(chapter 93) —the part of the body that allows people to work and generate the very income he seeks to extract. By threatening to destroy his victims’ hands, however, Heo Manwook undermines that capacity himself. The gesture exposes a certain narrow-mindedness: his violence contradicts the economic logic he is supposed to enforce, revealing not only his cruelty but also him as an enforcer who acts impulsively rather than strategically.
(chapter 16) rather than locating him through documentation or surveillance. This observation corroborates my previous deduction: he is not the one following the physical therapist in secret and taking pictures of him. Secondly, observe his reaction, when he reads the money transfer: 
(chapter 16) The loan shark reads the name quickly or without interest, so that he can only remember the most striking word. In this case, “Black” stands out, while “Team”—a generic word—disappears from his memory. So his phrasing suggests he did not pay attention to the full name. This displays his lack of professionalism. He doesn’t investigate carefully.
(chapter 16) Instead of verifying the information, he projects his own criminal assumptions onto the situation. 
(chapter 17) Instead of investigating carefully, he interprets every new piece of information through the lens of his past encounters and knowledge. His boss is rigging fights, so the others must do the same. When confronted with the name “Team Black,” he immediately assumes it must refer to a bar or brothel. What appears to be practical experience therefore becomes a liability. The man who believes he knows reality best may in fact be the one most vulnerable to misreading it. 
(chapter 16) demonstrate that Heo Manwook was already operating within that gray zone where medicine, crime, and financial exploitation overlap. It is therefore not surprising that the disgraced hospital director later appears within this environment. The medical world has long been entangled with the loan shark’s activities and this through Choi Gilseok who has a connection to a pharmaceutical company. 
(chapter 46) The “hand” of the organization may execute violence, but it does not decide the strategy.
(chapter 16), emphasizing the asymmetry between predator and prey. Yet when he threatens the disgraced hospital director, the composition changes subtly. 
(chapter 91) Reflecting on the men who had abused Kim Dan, the champion bitterly admits that he is “no different from the fuckers who took advantage of you.” Although Jaekyung is still unaware that Heo Manwook actually attempted to rape Kim Dan earlier in the story, the scene nevertheless establishes an unsettling parallel between different forms of abuse of power. The disgraced hospital director exploited his authority as a physician, while the loan shark uses violence and intimidation to dominate his victim. Both belong to the same shadow world where institutional positions become instruments of exploitation.
(chapter 17) he possesses extensive knowledge about the hidden mechanisms of the criminal network — rigging fights, illegal betting, debt collection, organ trafficking, and even the exploitation of vulnerable individuals. Yet this knowledge does not grant him control; instead, it entangles him more deeply in the system’s corruption. The more he knows about its secrets, the less clearly he perceives reality. Years of operating within the criminal network have isolated him from the logic of the legal world. Surrounded by corruption, intimidation, and bribery, he gradually begins to believe that these mechanisms can shield him from any real consequences. The knowledge that once gave him power therefore becomes a distortion: it convinces him that he can act with impunity, imagining that the system protecting him will always remain intact. What once appeared to be power gradually reveals itself as liability. I would even add. This protection could only function as long as the system itself continued to run smoothly. It depended on the uninterrupted flow of money circulating through the laundering network. The moment that flow is endangered—when bets collapse, scandals emerge, and funds begin to disappear—the shield of protection weakens. Figures such as the director of the gym and the loan shark suddenly become far more exposed than before. 
(chapter 17) The weapon signals impulsive violence rather than calculated strategy. 
(chapter 17) The knife belongs to the realm of direct physical force—the crude instrument of someone who acts rather than plans. At the same time, this weapon reveals why Heo Manwook believes that his power and strength are real. The latter stands for ultimate violence, someone can die with such a weapon. However, like exposed in a previous essay, MMA fighters can still die with bare hands. A wrong move or a mistake … 
(chapter 25) 
(chapter 47) The underground arena operates according to entirely different rules, where knives are not anomalies but part of the environment. In this sense, Junmin’s threat does more than intimidate the former hospital director—it exposes the violent logic of the system that produced him.
(chapter 11) the loan shark refuses to rely on the transaction itself. Instead of trusting the digital record, he personally visits Kim Dan and continues the physical abuse. In his worldview, confirmation must come through intimidation rather than documentation.
(chapter 17) When Joo Jaekyung later transfers the money directly to him using his own phone 
(chapter 17), the transaction itself becomes a form of evidence. What Heo Manwook perceives merely as a convenient payment leaves behind a record — one that cannot be erased by violence. The phone quietly transforms the power dynamic: intimidation may silence witnesses, but it cannot erase a transaction history.
(chapter 91) The champion carefully reads the news article exposing the former hospital director’s crimes. 
(chapter 46) The computer visible on Heo Manwook’s desk quietly contains a record of the entire operation. The illegal betting site displayed on the screen is not merely a tool for profit; it is also a potential archive of evidence—transactions, accounts, and financial flows that could expose the laundering system. In other words, the machine that allows the network to generate money simultaneously preserves the traces of its crimes. 
(chapter 87) Joo Jaekyung’s public exposure of the stunt did not merely create financial problems for the organization. It inflicted a fresh narcissistic wound on Junmin himself. The humiliation was public, visible, and impossible to ignore. In that sense, the upcoming match is not only a sporting deadline but also a symbolic countdown: a chance to reverse the humiliation, reclaim his standing, and restore a damaged image. Time, for Junmin, does not move forward in a stable or mature way. It circles obsessively around injury, revenge and shame; he stores it.
(chapter 87) The moment appears insignificant to most spectators. Yet for someone who already knew the identity of the person standing there, the gesture could reveal something important.
(chapter 90) The only difference is the loss of his spectacles. They are not only broken, but also lying next to him. The loss of his glasses mirrors his situation: he is forced to face reality and as such he is discovering the true reasons behind doc Dan’s greed: despair and fear in front of the loan shark. 
(chapter 90) One could say, he is now receiving his karma. Like mentioned above, the behavior and words of the men 
(chapter 1) So what did he hear at the office the whole time? 
(chapter 91) Thus I deduce that the physical therapist has become the real target of the next plot. 
(chapter 50) 
(chapter 47) Junmin’s “star quality” and supports his rapid rise within the organization. Such endorsement provides him with a form of institutional legitimacy that shields him from direct scrutiny. His authority does not come from discipline or merit alone but from the structures that elevate and protect him. And observe how the lady in red protected the “champion’s reputation”. 
(chapter 41) The official report contradicts the observations of the physical therapist. Moreover, they had allowed the fight, though the athlete’s foot had been injured. 
(chapter 50) Later, after the match, the examination of the fighters at the health center takes place in conditions that clearly lack privacy 
(chapter 59) Finally, because of the perverted hospital warden’s assault, the main lead ended up blacklisted. He could never get hired at another hospital. If the narrative surrounding the injury were manipulated, the responsibility for Joo Jaekyung’s worsening condition and the schedules could easily be redirected toward him. 
(chapter 46) Throughout the story, the coach frequently appears wearing glasses—a visual symbol traditionally associated with knowledge and clarity. Yet despite this apparent vision, he repeatedly fails to recognize the dangers surrounding Joo Jaekyung. As the champion’s manager, Park Namwook is responsible for organizing his schedule and protecting his long-term career. In principle, this role should place him in the position of a guardian. But he does not intervene 
(chapter 41), he just stands by his side. 
(chapter 17) Instead of acting as a protective barrier between the athlete and the pressures of the industry, Park Namwook frequently defers to the logic of the organization. When the CEO of MFC later invites the champion to an important meeting, the coach encourages him to attend, once again placing institutional expectations above caution. 
(chapter 69) In this sense, Park Namwook’s authority begins to resemble the same pattern visible in Baek Junmin’s behavior: responsibility is repeatedly shifted upward toward the organization MFC or Joo Jaekyung as the owner of Team Black 
(chapter 88)
(chapter 61). Each layer appears authoritative, yet together they create a system in which accountability becomes blurred.
(chapter 49) A shotgun is not a weapon designed for precision. When fired, it releases multiple pellets that spread across a wide area, striking several targets at once. Junmin’s strategy follows a similar logic. Rather than confronting Joo Jaekyung directly, he destabilizes the structures surrounding him: the media narrative, the medical establishment, the leadership of MFC, and potentially even the champion’s personal relationships. Each move strikes a different layer of the system protecting the fighter. The goal is not a single decisive blow but a gradual weakening of the entire structure around the champion. 
(chapter 93) Unlike the other men in the room, this individual already stands at the intersection of several narrative threads. He knows Kim Dan. 
(chapter 90) He has encountered Joo Jaekyung. And he has personally witnessed the dynamics between them.
(chapter 90) Secondly, he was doing it for the money, hence he called him a slut. 
(chapter 90) This misunderstanding fundamentally shapes how he interprets the situation. In this sense, the disgraced director resembles Heo Manwook. Both men rely heavily on their past experiences when judging others. The loan shark assumes that Kim Dan must have obtained the money through prostitution or some other illicit activity, while the former hospital director interprets the closeness between the athlete and the therapist as evidence of a romantic relationship. In both cases, what appears to be practical knowledge becomes a source of blindness. Their experience allows them to recognize familiar patterns, but it also prevents them from seeing the complexity of the reality before them. The relationship between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan does not fit into a simple category such as business, manipulation, or romance. Their bond evolves gradually and reflects a far more complex emotional dynamic. 
(chapter 56), hospitals repeatedly responded that they had never heard of anyone by that name. 
(chapter 56) This reaction suggests that the young therapist had already been erased from the professional network in Seoul. Far from protecting him, this invisibility places him in an extremely fragile position: without institutional recognition, he has no professional community capable of defending him.
(chapter 5) The athlete might realize that the narrative emerging around Kim Dan does not match the reality he previously encountered while searching for him. What appears at first as professional criticism could therefore reveal the existence of a coordinated attempt to manipulate the story. 
(chapter 91) 
(chapter 36) 
(chapter 5) or attacked in the street 
. (chapter 1) His office functioned as a hidden lair, carefully separated from the violence carried out by his subordinates. The presence of the disgraced director inside that office therefore represents a significant rupture in Heo Manwook’s usual methods. 
(chapter 93) Moreover, this time he is the one beating the victim, while one of his minions is standing. 
(chapter 74) Joo Jaekyung represents yet another form of knowledge: the knowledge of experiences. Through hardship, defeat, and survival, he has learned to recognize the realities of the world step by step. By living next to doc Dan, he learned to listen and observe so that he is now more aware of the world surrounding him. The true tension of this arc therefore lies not simply between ignorance and knowledge, but between three different ways of understanding reality. One man believes he understands everything, another quietly carries knowledge that could expose it all without realizing it, while the third slowly learns the truth through experience.That is precisely why, in the illustration, they now stand facing each other.
(chapter 3) The latter became responsible for the hamster’s sexual education. 
(chapter 90) He is not impulsive. He is not openly violent. He operates within institutions, within offices, within controlled environments. He isolates rather than attacks. He frames rather than forces. Like Compère le loup, he is not a stranger; he is part of the social order. He belongs to the system. That belonging is precisely what grants him access.
(chapter 90) His threat is not confession; it is defensive strategy. It reveals what he fears most: exposure. Not moral reckoning, but visibility. The predator who once operated in sealed rooms now imagines himself dragged into the open. And that possibility terrifies him.
(chapter 90) prioritizes its “output” (reputation, profit, or clinical operations) over the safety of its staff, it adopts the woodcutter’s axe. By focusing only on the work at hand, the institution effectively grants the predator a “sealed room.” The wolf doesn’t need to hide from the woodcutters; he only needs them to keep their heads down. What makes him powerful is not brute force but the absence of eyes. The director functioned the same way. His authority depended on institutional insulation — doors closed, hierarchy unquestioned, narratives controlled. As long as no one looked too closely, he remained Compère — familiar, respectable, legitimate.
(chapter 90) It resembles the wolf’s preferred setting: intimacy that appears voluntary. What caught my attention is that he complained about his partners. 
(chapter 33), but at the restaurant. If he had known such a club, he could have met the green haired-guy or the “uke” from episode 55. Thus I deduce that the sexual predator is actually hiding his “homosexuality”, he had been living a double life in the end, like the wolf in Perrault. That’s why he targets “virgins”. Since he used the expression “pandering… get by”, Mingwa implies that this man must have told the men (“all kinds of people”) he met, he was looking for a boyfriend to justify his action. 
(chapter 90) That surprise matters. It suggests expectation of compliance, of silent agreement, of recognition of coded signals. The man likely does not belong to the director’s ecosystem; he does not recognize the invitation as opportunity but as lack of respect. Thus he exits. 
(chapter 90) The fact that the wolf tried to talk him out of it indicates that their relationship was not only superficial, but also more equal. Humiliation is crucial. Predators who rely on social camouflage depend on territory. When territory collapses, strategy must change. 
(chapter 90) This is where Grimm enters. His true nature got exposed, he is socially identified as predator. 
(chapter 90) There is no sustained camouflage. Violence becomes explicit. 
(chapter 90) Hence he ran away. The exposure destroyed his credibility. The public article marked him. His ecosystem collapses. He is no longer hidden wolf. He is identified predator.
(chapter 16)
(chapter 30), but also as selfless. 
(chapter 30) Yet, he is a libertine, though he claims to be pure by stating that he is looking for his soulmate. 
(chapter 33) Hence no one is suspecting the darkness in his heart. Even the champion believed in his words, when he claimed that he had some feelings for doc Dan. 
(chapter 58) The resemblance is deliberate. He is discreet. He avoids public scrutiny. He hides his intimacy with Potato. 
(chapter 43) Therefore the latter was not present at the champion’s birthday party. The actor operates in private spaces 
(special episode 2) and prefers silence over visibility. Like Perrault’s Compère le loup, he does not appear monstrous. He appears socially legible — even charming. He navigates controlled environments. He is careful about who sees what.
(chapter 35) He proposes a “race”to the little girl, in Jinx it’s a meal (ramen in Korean, an allusion to sex)
(chapter 35) He softens his voice. He invites the girl into bed. 
(special episode 1) He constructs intimacy before violence. He depends on civility as camouflage. 
(special episode 1) 
(special episode 1) It is not about power display, but fun. He hides not to isolate his partner, but to shield himself from exposure. His discretion protects his own public image, not his access to another’s body. The imbalance exists — it cannot be denied — but it is not systematically mobilized to erode consent. The latter comes from their initial contract: Potato is at his beck and call. 
(special episode 1) He has been avoiding “virgins” for one reason. He knows how a “virgin” would react to his dream ” to find his soulmate”. They would take his “words” seriously and imagine him as someone serious and reliable. But by selecting partners with sexual experience, he can claim that he made a mistake, they were no soulmate. 
(special episode 1) But this panel exposes even better why the actor is so different from Perrault’s wolf. Youth symbolizes “vulnerability and innocence” and that’s something he has been avoiding. The reason is simple. That way, he can avoid accountability. That’s why he panics, when he hears the age. He realizes his mistake! This reveals that though Heesung is a libertine, he is different from the hospital warden. He is not seeking pleasure in asymmetry, fear, shame and power. He is not targeting “virgins” to exploit their vulnerability. He has been avoiding “virgins”, as he knew that he would have to take responsibility. In reality, he has always feared attachment. Where the wolf eroticizes vulnerability, Heesung is destabilized by it.
(chapter 34) the predator by accident 
(chapter 89) — clever, adaptable, socially fluid. The fox does not devour. It maneuvers and as such plays tricks. 
(chapter 32) He first approaches Kim Dan through professional contact. Later, he suggests a gig to Potato 
(chapter 88) Even in the gym, he casually asks Yoo-Gu to hold mitts — reorganizing the work structure in ways that subtly serve his private interest. Work becomes the bridge. The boundary blurs.
(chapter 89) The accusation implies that Jaekyung contaminates professional space with sex. Yet Heesung himself collapses that boundary. He initiates intimacy with Potato after drinking. 
(chapter 90) It is when one makes a clear decision and accepts the consequences. Yet, Heesung violated this rule, for he knew Potato was drunk. He did not stop. He did not insist on postponement. He allowed desire to override clarity. That choice introduces asymmetry. Alcohol clouds agency. Youth complicates balance. Professional proximity blurs roles. Secondly, he is rejecting accountability. Finally, he never tried to correct Potato’s error and false belief. He took advantage of his ignorance. So his behavior could be perceived as manipulative and coercive. 
(special episode 1) He hides it, though he tried to reveal it to doc Dan 
(chapter 58). If the truth were exposed — an actor secretly sleeping with a younger, inexperienced partner whom he approached through work — the narrative could easily frame him as exploitative. He could be accused of sexual harassment.
(chapter 91) the emotion is internalized. He experiences remorse not because he was exposed, but because he crossed a boundary. He separates work from intimacy afterward. He becomes rigid about consent, alcohol, and clarity. Therefore imagine his reaction, when he discovers the true nature of the relationship between Choi Heesung and Potato. He can only be shocked and angry. 
(chapter 33) Or would attention shift to the structure that allowed blurred boundaries to exist in the first place?
(chapter 52), does the structure remain untouched?
(chapter 14) Others hide behind systems. 
(chapter 11) Others exploit labor, fear, loyalty, or belief. The forest contains them all. 
(chapter 42). When he speaks of Joo Jaekyung, his language is explicit: the champion was a source of milk, a body that could be “milked” for money, favors, and reflected status. In biological terms, this is parasitism rather than hunting — survival not through direct attack, but through prolonged attachment to a stronger host. As long as the host remains productive, the parasite thrives. When the bloodsucker is removed, flow stops, hunger turns first into regret 
(chapter 42) before resentment. 
(chapter 42)
(chapter 42), but why he does so at the precise moment he does. 
(chapter 42) His hostility does not emerge from poverty alone, nor from moral outrage. It is triggered by a rupture in his expectations.
(chapter 42) In that moment, the green-haired man realizes that closeness still exists without visible profit. This is intolerable to him. It contradicts the logic through which he has justified his own past behavior: the belief that proximity to power must be monetized, that relationships exist to be exploited, that affection without gain is either naive or dishonest.
(chapter 42) Something used and discarded. In other words, he reframes Kim Dan’s loyalty as delusion and reasserts predation as the only intelligible model of intimacy.
(chapter 02) and that the exchange of attention and money implied mutuality. Joo Jaekyung’s refusal shattered that illusion. What Kim Dan represents now is not competition, but refutation: proof that closeness does not require extraction, and that survival does not have to pass through exploitation.
(chapter 42) The green-haired man refuses to pay for food this, while implying that his roommate is taking advantage of him, as if he would barely contributes. On the surface, the image suggests exploitation: one man living off another’s labor. Yet the scene refuses to clarify who truly benefits. The roommate remains largely invisible, economically opaque, almost spectral. Is he a dependent quietly feeding off the green-haired man’s remaining resources? Or is the green-haired man himself the parasite, overstaying, consuming, and justifying his presence through grievance? The narrative does not resolve this tension — deliberately so. Predation here is not readable at a glance. It hides in everyday arrangements, in domestic negotiations, in the language of fairness and contribution.
(Chapter 31), the contract is made visible: the manager’s income depends entirely on the star’s uninterrupted productivity. When work stops, pay stops. Yet neither the star nor the agency appears exposed. Heesung himself, who proposed the risky sparring, shows no empathy for his caring manager. He doesn’t feel concerned for this arrangement and makes no attempt to renegotiate it for his manager’s sake. Financial risk is displaced downward, onto the least protected figure. The manager is not the predator here, but a human buffer, absorbing the instability produced by a structure that benefits the star and the Entertainment agency while refusing to insure those who sustain them.
(chapter 34) or on Saturdays
(chapter 32), treating the physical therapist’s work and time as indefinitely available. This is not an isolated lapse but a recurring pattern, later reproduced with Potato as well.
(chapter 70) but “Take better care of yourself.” Not “We failed to protect you,” but “You caused inconvenience.” This is the core of economic predation: the harm is real, but the blame is displaced downward so the system remains clean.
(Chapter 90) A sexual predator targets someone whose circumstances make refusal impossible or costly — socially, economically, professionally, physically, psychologically. The predator does not need to use overt violence to be dangerous; often the strategy is precisely to stay close to the border where the victim can later be blamed: You wanted it. You tempted me. You misled me. You didn’t say no clearly enough. This is why victim-blaming belongs structurally to sexual predation: it is a technique of retroactive absolution. This logic does not remain abstract in Jinx. It finds a concrete site where authority, legitimacy, and bodily access converge.
(chapter 29) Rival fighters do not need to engineer the champion’s collapse; they only need to anticipate it. What defines them is not ambition alone, but timing.
(chapter 46) His words are exposing not restraint, but accusation. The implication is clear: the champion’s body is already failing; respect has become optional. Seonho is not trying to overthrow Jaekyung through skill alone. He is announcing that the moment of vulnerability has arrived, and that patience is no longer required.
(chapter 87) He thought, he had found his perfect “meal”. To conclude, Arnaud Gabriel articulates the same logic even more coldly. 
(chapter 87) There is no personal animosity here, only inevitability. The statement is not a threat; it is a forecast. Power, in this worldview, is temporary by nature, and the role of rivals is not to prevent collapse, but to be present when it happens. Like hyenas, they do not waste energy on the kill. They wait for age, injury, scandal, or exhaustion to do the work.
(chapter 69) A new match is organized. An invitation is extended. Noise is generated. Attention is redirected. The spectacle resumes.
(chapter 81) The distinction matters. An athlete is managed for performance and longevity; a celebrity is managed for visibility. Injury is a problem in the first case. Scandal is profitable in the second.
(chapter 78) The latter has always blamed the “boxer Joo Jaewoong”, but not the boxing world, the institution. 
(chapter 74) He never saw the ties between boxing and mafia. And this raises the following question: how can the Little Red Riding Hood discover the predator in MFC before getting eaten? 
(chapter 80) In this environment, appearance is not superficial. It is a language of rank. To arrive without fluency in that language is already to be classified as provisional. 
(chapter 54) 
(chapter 1) The expression matters. It implies opportunity rather than integration: freelance labor, paid by hours or shifts, without institutional protection. In such conditions, negotiation is not expected. The contract is accepted, not discussed.
(chapter 57)
(chapter 90) The contact is quiet, progressive, and deniable. It blends into routine movement, into institutional normalcy. “After a while, he started getting really handsy… and it only got worse over time.” Each tolerated touch becomes precedent. Boundary erosion is not sudden; it is cumulative.
(chapter 90) In the doctor’s eyes, the predator knew about Kim Dan’s difficult financial situation, then he asked how much he would have to pay to sleep with him. The timing is crucial. The offer does not initiate desire; it tests whether vulnerability can be converted into consent. Payment reframes coercion as transaction, need as availability, and silence as something that can be bought in advance.
(chapter 90) as bodies that are “tough to crack,” with the confidence of repetition. The metaphor is consumptive: a shell broken to reach what is inside, then discarded. Once resistance is broken, interest disappears. This is practiced predation. The hospital is not merely the setting of abuse; it is his hunting territory — a space where authority guarantees access, exhaustion weakens refusal, and legitimacy ensures silence.
(chapter 21) The juxtaposition of two buildings, the rooftop park, the sterile façade, and above all the near-identical hallways collapse 
(chapter 5) Professional and personal life are folded into the same architectural body. This is not decorative repetition; it signals circulation — of staff, of protocols, of information.
(chapter 5) — professional legitimacy, research success, advancement within a system that rewards results over outcomes. Progress functions as an absolute good, one that authorizes human cost without requiring personal cruelty. Harm is acceptable so long as it produces data.
(chapter 21), age and vulnerability become a risk factor, endurance becomes a resource. When the new drug fails and the grandmother deteriorates, the explanation is procedural: side effects, unpredictability, regulatory timelines. Failure is framed as scientific, not ethical. 
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 21) Treatment patients “need family support,” she says — a statement that sounds compassionate, but functions as deflection. Psychological care is outsourced; responsibility for deterioration quietly migrates away from the institution (“we”). The setting of her disclosures reinforces this posture. She does not speak in a protected office, but in the hallway — a transitional, impersonal space governed by efficiency rather than care, as if she had nothing to hide. However, by behaving like that, she violated the confidentiality rights. Unlike the Saero-An director, who relies on enclosure and isolation, Kim Miseon operates through openness and institutional flow. 
(chapter 48) It is no coincidence. 
(chapter 56) 
(chapter 48) That knowledge could only have reached him through leakage — informal, normalized, unremarked. Bodies are not the only things consumed here; information is too.
(chapter 49) In both cases, harm is delivered chemically, not physically — quietly, indirectly, and in ways that can later be reframed as accident, misuse, or personal failure. This symmetry matters. The same mechanism governs the grandmother’s fate. 
(chapter 56) Unlike Saero-An or Sallim, this space does not extract profit or prestige; it operates under scarcity. Kim Dan works there as a freelancer, not as protected staff. When he collapses, he is advised to take a day off, not sick leave — a telling detail. 
(chapter 70) It confirms that, even here, labor is contingent, negotiability absent, protection minimal. The vocabulary of care masks the reality of precarity.
(chapter 59) Thus he is happy to let a film crew use his building for a movie. This is why he sometimes works night shifts himself. 
(chapter 60) His authority does not shield him from exhaustion; it exposes him to it. He enforces discipline because collapse anywhere threatens survival everywhere.
(chapter 59) And yet, harm still occurs. Responsibility is displaced not upward, but sideways — onto the most vulnerable worker present. Kim Dan becomes the buffer once again, not because the director is powerful, but because he is trapped. Predation here is no longer driven by appetite, but by attrition.
(chapter 61), preserving the impression of treatment rather than end-of-life care. This semantic slippage matters. For Joo Jaekyung, who has been treated there himself, the space remains associated with improvement. 
(chapter 70) He thinks, Hwang Byungchul is treated properly, as he still looks lively and strong. 
(chapter 71) The champion does not fully register that it is a place at the threshold of death. Care and closure blur. This confusion is not accidental; it mirrors the broader system’s refusal to name limits. By calling a hospice a hospital, death is softened into treatment. By calling resignation progress, responsibility is deferred.
(chapter 65) For her, medicine is sacred and progress meaningful. 
(chapter 65) This belief is not naïve in the childish sense; it is aspirational. It is tied to the idea of success, of legitimacy, of having “made it.” And in her mind, that idea has a name: Seoul.
(chapter 65) It is where competent doctors work, where advanced hospitals stand, where progress happens, where you can earn a lot of money. This belief structures her entire horizon. Corruption, abuse, and institutional predation do not register there, because acknowledging them would mean admitting that the space she has invested with hope is also capable of harm. Within Seoul, institutions are not suspect; they are self-justifying.
(chapter 57), she did not confront teachers. Her answer was always the same: he still had her. The implication was clear — institutions were there to protect him. To intervene would have meant questioning the very structures she depended on to make sense of the world.
(chapter 65) as if it was recent, temporary, and situational. The wording matters. What has been chronic is compressed into the present. Duration disappears. Suffering becomes recent, temporary, and therefore manageable. This is temporal minimization — not denial of harm, but deferral of its cause. 
(chapter 57) Only then does his condition become visible. Not because it is new, but because it now implicates her. Before that moment, his endurance could remain unnamed. After it, it must be explained. This is not cruelty; it is belief colliding with responsibility.
(chapter 7) This exposes her lack of trust in him, as she views him as too naive and trusting. This is where the irony crystallizes. Financial precarity is erased from discourse because acknowledging it would expose her responsibility. Money resurfaces, when Kim Dan presents an expensive gift. But she doesn’t mind, she is even aware of his lie: 
(chapter 41) He spends so much for her that he doesn’t have anything left for himself. 
(chapter 42) 
(chapter 22) 
(chapter 13) This reached its peak, when after sending his whole salary
(chapter 16), Heo Manwook intended to rape him. As you can see, the more they got money, the more abusive they became… and all this time, the grandmother has no idea. But the best evidence is when Joo Jaekyung pays the loan in full, the pattern repeats at a higher level. 
(chapter 17) The debt is erased — and the danger escalates. Kim Dan might become free, but now the target is the champion. He becomes visible. Settling the debt marks him as someone worth targeting, someone who can be extracted from again. 
(chapter 46) What Shin Okja imagines as closure functions, in reality, as a signal.
(chapter 41) A champion who keeps winning cleanly, visibly, and on his own terms becomes difficult to manage. His victories increase his market value, distribute prestige and income to others, and create expectations of legitimacy. At that point, success stops being profitable in a controllable way. It begins to threaten both institutional authority and informal economies that rely on predictability, influence, and narrative control.
(chapter 90) — and then he pulls his hand back. 
(chapter 90) No words are spoken to stop him. His hand is not even pushed away, like doc Dan did it before. 
(chapter 21) Everything happens in silence. The interruption comes entirely from within. 
(chapter 90) In his mind, everything that followed the hiring — the money, the contract, the protection, the conflicts — converges back onto him. Faced with this conclusion, he rewrites the past. The good moments lose their weight. 
(chapter 26) 
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 88) 
(chapter 89) The help he provided becomes irrelevant. What remains is a single narrative: meeting him caused harm.
(chapter 61) the clenched fist, when he expressed determination to achieve his goal (bringing back doc Dan or winning a fight). 
(chapter 81) 
(chapter 74), or converting conflict into challenge. 
(chapter 73) Fighting was not only his profession; it was his primary mode of being in the world. Here, however, the impulse to fight dissolves. 
(chapter 16) The grasp that follows is not an invitation, but a reaction to damage already inflicted. Resistance has been broken through the body before appeal becomes possible. It symbolizes submission, exactly like in the penthouse. 
(chapter 89), unlovability, moral contamination 
(chapter 84) Deep down, he thinks that he can not be forgiven and even loved. This is precisely why they take hold. Spoken aloud, they acquire the authority of truth. Once internalized, they no longer need to be repeated. 
(chapter 89) The panel does not show Heesung speaking again; it shows Joo Jaekyung’s clenched fist, isolated, rigid, suspended in recollection. This is not the fist of imminent action. It does not precede a strike. It does not convert pain into confrontation. Instead, it freezes.
(chapter 65), and Heesung who dismissed his agency 
(chapter 89) under the guise of concern.
(chapter 2), an external curse that followed his steps. Here, that distinction collapses. He no longer experiences the jinx as an event or condition, but as an identity. He does not fear what might happen because of him; he accepts that he himself is what causes harm. The curse is no longer something he carries. It is something he has become. Once internalized in this way, it no longer requires rituals to contain it. 
(chapter 75) Practices that once functioned as talismans—gestures meant to ward off misfortune or secure victory—lose their meaning. 
(chapter 75) What collapses is not only belief in luck, but belief in the necessity of striving at all.
8episode 10), Kim Dan wakes up there after drinking excessively, confused why he is sleeping in the penthouse. He doesn’t know that the night before in his drunkenness, his thoughts were turning toward his grandmother. He was mistaking the athlete for his relative. 
(chapter 10) He feared getting abandoned. When the doctor realized his whereabouts, he imagined that he had sex with the champion. As you can see, the bedroom is strongly intertwined with longing and sin, where consciousness returns only after collapse. This association deepens in episode 20, when sexual intimacy is immediately followed by a phone call announcing his grandmother’s critical condition. 
(chapter 20) Pleasure and threat coexist in the same space, binding the room to the anticipation of loss.
(chapter 29), his body once again giving way under accumulated strain. The room is no longer merely where exhaustion manifests; it is where it becomes undeniable. In episode 61, the association shifts again: Joo Jaekyung comes to the room seeking sex, but Kim Dan is unwell, unable to voice his own thoughts, unable to refuse. 
(chapter 61) Illness interrupts desire, and the room marks the moment where agency falters.
(chapter 79). Once more, it is this room that frames the danger. 
(chapter 79) The body moves without consciousness, hovering at the edge between presence and disappearance. The room becomes a liminal space where life is not actively threatened by violence, but quietly endangered by exhaustion and dissociation (suicidal thoughts).
(chapter 53) The object becomes a trace of absence, and the room transforms into a container of loss. Standing by the window, Joo Jaekyung is portrayed without eyes. 
(chapter 53) The visual choice is crucial: it does not indicate blindness in a literal sense, but an inability to see forward, to orient himself. He is present in the room, but detached from direction and purpose. This scene announces the falling apart of the athlete. 
(chapter 55) The space is sealed off, preserved, treated almost as a forbidden zone. The cleaning staff is not allowed to enter. Nothing is moved, corrected, or neutralized. The room becomes a reliquary rather than a dwelling — a place frozen in the moment of loss. Joo Jaekyung does not confront what happened there; he keeps it intact, untouched, and therefore unresolved. At the same time, he imagines that avoiding that place will help him to forget doc Dan’s gaze and face. 
(chapter 53)
(chapter 53) In episode 54, wine bottles begin to accumulate beside the couch 
(chapter 54) in his own bedroom leaving a huge red wine stain on the carpet. 
(chapter 55) And in episode 90, the teddy bear now rests on the couch in Kim Dan’s room 
(chapter 90) — occupying the very place toward which the jacket once flew. Across these scenes, the hand and couch emerge as a recurring site of impact, exhaustion, and surrender. It is where bodies fall, where frustration lands, where the weight of what cannot be said is deposited. One detail caught my attention: because they are not sitting on the couch, the main leads are discussing together. They are able to face each other and as such to listen to each other. 
(chapter 90) Their respective position in this room reminded me of their previous arguments. 
(chapter 45) 
(chapter 61) 
(chapter 64) Only when they would truly face each other, they would be more honest and expose their thoughts and emotions. As soon as there is a table, a bed or a couch, I detected some restrain and silence. In other words, the presence of the teddy bear and the couch in that scene explains why Kim Dan is silent and passive after their conversation. He is definitely remembering the day and conversation at the amusement park. 
(chapter 88) On the other hand, it is about time that doc Dan becomes proactive so that they finally become a real team. 
(chapter 79) for everything. He was to blame for everything. 
(chapter 37) He endured before being asked. He accepted harm as a condition of acceptance and staying. His silence was not passivity, but a learned ethics: if I ask for less, if I take up less space, if I disappear when necessary, others, in particular his grandmother, might be spared. 
(chapter 90) He does not argue. He does not demand. Instead, he blames himself for everything, thus he withdraws. He refuses to claim a right. He positions himself as the problem that must be removed so that something better might follow. 
(chapter 53) This is the same moral calculus Kim Dan once applied to himself: the belief that care becomes ethical only when it is accompanied by sacrifice, and that love, if it exists at all, must be proven through disappearance. The only difference is that he can not apologize as his existence has become the synonym of wrongdoing. Thus Kim Dan can not hear the distress from his “loved one”.
(chapter 74) He remains upright. His posture holds. Yet, he is now voiceless exactly like the physical therapist in the past. From the outside, he still appears powerful, but the loss of cry or sound indicates loss of agency and choice. But structurally, the positions have reversed. The one who once endured now asserts authorship over his choices. 
(chapter 89) and the green-haired man 
(chapter 90) — not because he shares it, but because the mirror he has become reveals it. Yet instead of recognizing this capacity as ethical clarity, he mistakes it for contamination. He equates himself with the very figures whose cruelty is laid bare in his presence. However, he is making a huge mistake, he is accepting this projection forgetting that he had it all wrong for one reason: 
(chapter 90) During their first meeting, the “hamster” had grabbed his “anaconda”. 
(chapter 1) Such a gesture could be interpreted as a seduction, and don’t forget that the previous physical therapist had rubbed him the wrong way: 
(chapter 1) Finally, observe that after this incident, Joo Jaekyung was looking at the embarrassed doc Dan 
(chapter 56) and thinking that they could have fun together in bed. 
(chapter 56) So doc Dan has his share of responsibility in the champion’s misjudgment. 
(chapter 84) This gesture symbolized their reconciliation in the end, 
(chapter 84) the return of trust and faith in the “champion”. What Joo Jaekyung mirrors is not who the doctor is now, but who he once had to be in order to survive. The tragedy lies precisely there: the champion adopts a posture the doctor has already outgrown thanks to him.
(chapter 72), the reality was that he longed for a home, which he came to associate with his mother. Thus over the phone, he promised to become strong 
(chapter 72) and earn a lot of money so that his mother could return home. As you can see, fighting was strongly intertwined with his mother and his longing for a family. 
(chapter 72), as if the boy’s role was to validate the father’s existence. Joo Jaewoong does not ask his son what he wants 
(chapter 73); he mocks his ambition 
(chapter 73) and reduces his dream to delusion. Yet even in conflict, Joo Jaekyung seeks recognition. 
(chapter 73) As you can see, his life is always focused on the future, on one goal and as such one person: the mother, then the father. 
(chapter 74) He warns against becoming like the father, to change for the sake of his own mother 
(chapter 74), not by encouraging freedom, but by replacing one obligation with another: win, endure, don’t disgrace the dead. Many years later, he encourages him to change his mind-set, because he could end up alone. 
(chapter 75) For the first time, it is no longer about winning or enduring. 
(chapter 75) However, observe how the main lead reacts to this well-meant advice: 
(chapter 75) He starts visualizing Doc Dan as his goal. It is once again focused on one person and future-oriented. 
(chapter 65) He suppresses desire, health, and rest for her sake. The moral lesson is identical: if your presence risks harm, reduce yourself; if your absence protects others, endure it.
(chapter 65), because she did the same in the past with doc Dan: 
(Chapter 77) This means, the debts bring the terrible mind-set to the surface. 
(chapter 54) — longstanding, cumulative, and corrosive. 
(chapter 90) And these two “friends” return during that night. What inhabits the room in episode 90 is not nostalgia, nor an unprocessed sadness that merely needs to be named. The same shame that has structured his life since childhood resurfaces here, stripped of all justifications. Joo Jaekyung is not suffering because he feels abandoned in the present. He is suffering because he believes himself to be the reason others leave. 
(chapter 29) He cannot sleep. He cannot relax. His body remains permanently alert because, in his words, he could “be killed” at any moment. 
(chapter 29) He understands that this state is unsustainable — that it is only a matter of time before something gives way. What Joo Jaekyung treats as discipline, Kim Dan recognizes as danger.
(chapter 53) In his mind, he is obeying a command.
(chapter 90) But that explanation is insufficient. What actually begins after is grief and recognition.
(chapter 54) Now the logic sharpens: Kim Dan does not merely embody bad luck. He embodies the champion’s mental state — depression, trauma, and chronic self-devaluation. He becomes the surface onto which Joo Jaekyung’s inner instability is projected.
(chapter 29) And now, in episode 90, Jinx-philes can sense that the athlete is wearing the glasses “depressive realism” once again, where everything seems so true. He recalls all his misdeeds and can only perceive himself as the source of unhappiness for doc Dan. And like mentioned above, during that night, he is just only recalling his wrongdoings. He is overlooking that thanks to him, Doc Dan’s mental and physical conditions 
(chapter 89) improved, that he could make doc Dan smile. Meeting the hospital director made him see everything in a bad light. As you can see, he still has a black and white mentality. However, the truth is that right from the start, the champion had not just been a terrible person. He could be generous, help someone in need. 
(chapter 17) He saved doc Dan’s life twice. 
(chapter 65)
(chapter 19) This image announces the vanishing of the parents. 
, when Joo Jaekyung imagines that doc Dan has once again fallen into the ocean and fears to lose him. 
(chapter 89) Secondly, he is the only one referring to mental illness: 
(chapter 54)
(chapter 78) Now, he is blaming himself for everything — and the narrative quietly aligns him with the same numbers, the same silences, the same logic of disappearance.
(chapter 80) Secondly, he doesn’t know how the champion was blamed for everything and was treated by the other members of Team Black: 
(chapter 21) A teddy bear was present in his childhood, until it vanished. 
(chapter 87)
(chapter 89) Episode 89 does not rely on spectacle, confrontation, or confession. Instead, it performs something far more unsettling. It turns back toward the beginning 
(chapter 89) and begins to unravel what was once deliberately sealed.
(chapter 1) We knew there was a witness. We knew that what happened was not ambiguous in moral terms.
(chapter 1) is not a revelation of new information. It is the resurfacing of a figure who once proved that truth alone was insufficient. His reappearance signals that what was buried at the beginning of the story—harassment, witness, cover-up, professional erasure—is no longer content to remain inert. The silence that once protected the hospital director is beginning to fray, unwinding slowly, like a gift ribbon pulled loose thread by thread. What was known but unspeakable is approaching exposure not through confession, but through loss of insulation.
(chapter 89) Instead, the narrative offers a bird’s-eye view of the hospice Light of Hope as Joo Jaekyung’s car leaves the parking lot. The implication is unmistakable. Her death is imminent. But just as importantly, she is transitioning from presence to spectral force—no longer intervening, no longer negotiating, but lingering over the narrative as memory and obligation.
(chapter 1) Readers did not meet the grandmother until Episode 5. 
(chapter 5) Before that, her existence was inferred rather than seen: through debt, through responsibility, through the ruined house Kim Dan inhabited. Absence structured the story before presence ever did. The grandmother was a force long before she was a character.
(chapter 89) When Joo Jaekyung speaks of “the way home,” 
(chapter 89) and Kim Dan repeats the phrase without hesitation, the shift is unmistakable. Home has been reassigned. It is no longer the place where Kim Dan endures obligation or where his grandmother is 
(chapter 56), but the place where he lives in the present: the penthouse. The grandmother’s influence has not vanished; yet it has been reduced to a short visit, while he spends time with his fated partner a long time on the road. Her absence no longer anchors him to a life of quiet survival. He is now enjoying life, hence he is seen smiling and talking informal to the athlete. 
(chapter 89)
(chapter 1), unseen decisions made about Kim Dan without his consent 
(chapter 89) Debts have been paid. Contracts are finite. A witness exists, though he doesn’t believe in the “angel”. 
(chapter 89) Kim Dan is no longer isolated in his knowledge, nor alone in bearing its consequences. Joo Jaekyung detected the presence of a “predator”. 
(chapter 89) 
(chapter 1), but he did not question the narrative offered to him. He never tried to justify his own action either. Park Namwook, as manager, occupied the position of authority: the one who explained, interpreted, and closed the case. He never checked the facts, like for example “rubbing him the wrong way”. He acted as the prosecutor, judge and lawyer at the same time. What happened before remained unseen, and therefore unexamined. The truth did not need to be falsified; it only needed to be summarized. 
(chapter 1), the reluctance of applicants, and the need to recruit Kim Dan through informal channels all suggested that something else had already been circulating: a reputation formed in absence, not through evidence.
(chapter 9), explanations, and silence. Only after the “hamster’s arrival”, the athlete is gradually exposed to gossip, badmouthing 
(chapter 47) and exclusion. This reached its peak with the famous slap at the hospital. 
(chapter 88) The kiss does not erase what preceded it; it merely interrupts it. Kim Dan’s explanation is therefore neither wholly true nor wholly false. It is a partial truth, shaped by shyness, by a desire to protect, and by shame. Hence he is sweating, when he explains his presence to Potato. 
(chapter 30), as the latter is quiet, self-effacing. selfless, attentive, humble and absorbs blame instead of projecting it. Kim Dan initially fits the fantasy of the perfect lover — someone who would not disrupt Heesung’s self-image. Hence he doesn’t need to do anything. 
(chapter 31) By siding with doc Dan and acting as the angel’s advocate 
(chapter 89), the comedian can appear as a saint. 
(chapter 32)— he believes that he can judge the celebrity. However, he does not consider that something else might have happened before the moment he witnessed. The kiss becomes totalizing. Training is retroactively erased. 
(chapter 52) nor Heesung exercises this control. Both act from positions of perceived authority, and both mistake emotional coherence for factual accuracy. Their confidence does not only arise from what they know, but also from how strongly they feel. The strength of conviction replaces the labor of verification.
(chapter 58) He imagines a simple narrative: Kim Dan must have left because of Joo Jaekyung’s temper, his rudeness, his violence, probably due to the “defeat”. A quarrel, therefore, naturally leads to separation. From this assumption follows a paternalistic conclusion: the “hamster” must be hidden from the athlete for his own good. Protection becomes justification; concealment becomes virtue. 
(chapter 89) while smoking—a detail the episode insists on repeating, and one that should not be aestheticized. The cigarette does not merely accompany his words; it alters the air in which they are spoken. 
(chapter 58), he reinterprets the kiss as “fuck” and not as the expression of love and tenderness. In other words, he is witnessing “true love”, but he rejects it. This exposes that he has no true notion of real love. In his mind, Joo Jaekyung abused his position as “employer”. 
(chapter 89) His comment “You’re not ….” implies the expectation of a confirmation. Both are not dating. What Joo Jaekyung is actually doing exceeds the category Heesung understands. This is not casual dating. It is not secrecy. It is not consumption. It is preparation. Continuity. A future. Symbolically, Joo Jaekyung is already a step beyond “dating”: he is moving toward marriage — toward public, accountable union. He is closer to commitment than the cursed “Romeo”. That’s the reason why the author included such a reference at the store: 
(chapter 89). 
(chapter 89) 
(chapter 56) As long as Kim Dan remained unseen, power could continue to “know” without ever needing to verify.
(chapter 89) rather than exposed guilt. His posture is upright, leaning in. His hand rests on Kim Dan’s shoulder without hesitation—uninvited yet unchallenged. His face shows satisfaction, not doubt. He smiles while Kim Dan sweats and is attempting to stop him. 
(chapter 89)
(chapter 89)
(chapter 89) Wine is relational. It opens, breathes, changes with time. It is meant to be shared, discussed, returned to. It presupposes duration. Where whisky seals, wine circulates.
(chapter 89) But more importantly, he doesn’t hide his affection and attraction to doc Dan, while the other did it behind closed doors. Finally, thanks to doc Dan, Joo Jaekyung is learning to pay attention to his surrounding. That’s how he sensed the gaze from the perverted hospital director. 
(chapter 89) not as a plea for permission, but as an invitation into a shared future. The pause of the older man watching him echoes a different kind of professionalism: not predatory authority, not performative control, but quiet recognition. Furthermore the doctor’s suit reminded me of the doctor in episode 13, Cheolmin (pattern, colors). 
(chapter 13) The visual resemblance to Cheolmin is not accidental. It aligns Kim Dan’s future not with power that operates through secrecy, but with practice grounded in fun, care and responsibility. Earlier, suits belonged to those who decided outcomes behind closed doors 
(chapter 89) Bought by Joo Jaekyung but chosen by Kim Dan, it marks the return of agency. What was once a symbol of exclusion now signals continuity. Kim Dan is no longer preparing to survive. He is preparing to live. Hence his birthday is approaching. 
(chapter 88), and the final panel hinting at an imminent confrontation with Choi Heesung. 
(chapter 88) Discussions largely revolved around physical proximity, discipline, and anticipation — around bodies in motion and the promise of conflict to come. At first glance, the episode seemed to oscillate between intimacy and tension 
(chapter 88), between preparation 
(chapter 88).
(chapter 88) are structured around restraint 
(chapter 88), delayed, or redirected. Words are measured, authority is redistributed, and decisions are deferred 
(chapter 88) rather than imposed. What initially appears as physical intensity and narrative suspense begins to reveal a deeper reconfiguration of roles, responsibility, and choice.
(chapter 70)—most likely in November— in late autumn. 
(chapter 88) This temporal setting is visually reinforced by the environment itself: in the opening sequence marked “a few weeks later,” the tree is already bare, its leaves gone. Nature offers no spontaneous image of growth or renewal. If a flower were to appear in this chapter, it couldn’t belong to the season. It must be cultivated, protected, and sustained in a green house—something that emerges not from natural abundance, but from deliberate care. So where does this idea of a flower come from?
: a closed circuit which we could witness once again in the training room: 
(chapter 88) There are once again sparks between them. The number 8 is not just related to doc Dan [for more read 
(chapter 58) Two trajectories —long separated, repeatedly missing one another—intersect at last. When two eights overlap, they form neither a loop nor a knot, but a new shape: a flower-like figure, suggestive of opening rather than closure. This crossing does not resolve everything; instead, it creates the conditions for growth for all the characters. 
(chapter 88), white 
(chapter 88), blue, gray, 
, (chapter 88) red 
(chapter 88) Pink frames tenderness and mutual awkwardness; purple marks embarrassment and heightened awareness; red signals suppressed anger and looming confrontation; black absorbs fear, silence, and unresolved tension.
(chapter 88) are dressed in green 
(chapter 19), where green and floral elements once functioned as a silent language of care and containment. The repetition is not accidental. By wearing a similar tone in the present, Kim Dan does not merely revisit the past; he carries it forward. 
(chapter 35), which tend to assert a singular message (love, passion, beauty), hydrangeas communicate multiplicity and emotional ambivalence; they speak in clusters rather than declarations. This visual language mirrors Kim Dan’s inner world at the time 
(chapter 31). Here, the symbolism shifts. Pink roses convey affection and admiration, while baby’s breath suggests innocence and fragility. Yet the arrangement is excessive, overwhelming, and mismatched to its recipient. The bouquet does not listen; it speaks at Kim Dan rather than with him. Significantly, Heesung comes to associate Kim Dan himself with the flower—something delicate, beautiful, and deserving of protection, but also something to be handled, displayed, and possessed. 
(chapter 88) Kim Dan’s green training clothes—visually echoing the green shirt he wore in the photograph with his grandmother—signal continuity rather than regression. This is not a retreat into childhood dependency, but the reappearance of an inner child now disentangled from obligation and fear. The flower that reemerges here is not gifted, not arranged, not imposed—it grows. In this sense, episode 88 introduces a missing element in the dynamic between the two protagonists: not desire, not care, but communication. And it is here that Choi Heesung becomes central—not as a rival or antagonist, but as a structural bridge, as in reality he represents the rose, “La vie en rose” 
. He embodies speech, playfulness, and visibility, yet also reveals their limits when they are severed from responsibility and respect. I will elaborate about this more below.
(chapter 88), but the moment in which the conditions for happiness are finally put into place. And now let me ask you this. What is the symbol of happiness? Smiles and laughs. During the training session, Kim Dan smiles. These moments are brief 
(chapter 83) What is striking is that neither of them recognizes this fulfillment. 
(chapter 31)
(chapter 88) What appears at first glance as coercion 
(chapter 88) or discipline is in fact a negotiation shaped by habit, fear of burdening the other, and an inability—on both sides—to articulate desire outside professional roles.
(chapter 88), a space that is never neutral in Jinx. A car has one driver, one direction, one authority. By placing the conversation there, Mingwa signals that the relationship is still structurally asymmetrical at this point: Joo Jaekyung leads, Kim Dan follows.
(chapter 17) Therefore it is not surprising that instead of asking permission or explaining concern, he imposes the idea—because that is how he has learned to act as a captain, a fighter, and later a manager. Authority precedes dialogue. 
(chapter 88) In other words, the request from Joo Jaekyung appears as a memory from the physical therapist. Why? 
(chapter 88) Because Mingwa refuses the “clean” sequence in which an order is issued and immediately executed. The narration inserts a gap—an interval of off-panel time that we are forced to reconstruct from Kim Dan’s recall. 
(chapter 88) Instead Kim Dan no longer insists on his own sufficiency. He no longer says “I can manage., but doc Dan admits not only his own lacking. 
(chapter 88), but also his own desire. He finally expresses his desire to improve, to learn more. 
(chapter 88) creates a temporal bridge that enables this recognition. Only once change is named from the outside can Kim Dan cautiously acknowledge it from within.
(chapter 88) The problem is that his form of care was influenced by his own mindset and emotions: his physical limitations.
(chapter 88)
(chapter 88). He teases. 
(chapter 88)
(chapter 88), not rest. Thus the doctor mistakes the embrace for a technique and not the expression of love. 
(chapter 88) And observe that the athlete still refuses to express the true meaning of his hug. His explanation still remains technical, defensive, and strategically framed:
(chapter 88) This sentence is crucial. It reduces contact to function. The closeness of bodies, the pressure of weight, the proximity of breath are translated into instruction. What could be acknowledged as reassurance or care is instead displaced into pedagogy. Joo Jaekyung does not deny intimacy; he relabels it. 
(chapter 88) of breath held too long, of proximity charged with something unnamed. The technical explanation arrives after that awareness, not before it. This confirms that the instructional language functions as a shield — not against intimacy itself, but against having to speak it.
(chapter 88) Directly after warning against lowering one’s guard, Joo Jaekyung kisses him.
(chapter 26) Back then, Doc Dan had accepted the challenge due to Potato, though deep down he desired to have the champion as his teacher. 
(chapter 25) That’s how it dawned on me that doc Dan has gradually taken over Yoon-Gu’s previous place at the gym. He is an “unofficial member” of Team Black. Thus he mops the floor and Yoon-Gu is not there to stop him or reclaim this position. 
(chapter 88) Yoon-Gu’s position within the gym has improved. He is now considered as a real fighter. 
(chapter 88) 
(chapter 87) For him, this trip was related to work, while in reality it was a date in disguise. 
(Chapter 88) The answer restores hierarchy without acknowledging the transformation that has already occurred. Secondly, the answer closes the future by appealing to a supposedly objective limit. Yoon-Gu can never be his sparring partner. The best he can do is hold the mitts and nothing more. The fox is using his seniority and body to have the final say. 
(chapter 88) Under that framework, Yoon-Gu is not disqualified; he is qualified. He has trained. He belongs. So technically, Yoon-Gu could indeed beat the actor, as the “puppy” has trained for a long time at Team Black. 
(chapter 33) He knows what he does not want. His language is saturated with judgment shaped by past experiences: lovers who become “too clingy,” attachments that turn inconvenient, people who should remain “better off” elsewhere 
(chapter 33) Heesung’s orientation is never toward what is unfolding, but toward what might be better elsewhere—another partner, another configuration, another future. His repeated invocation of a “soulmate” is revealing: it displaces intimacy into a hypothetical horizon. By looking at the grass, he is overlooking the flower. Love, for him, is something to be found later, once the conditions are ideal. What exists now is always provisional, always lacking, always subject to replacement. He needs the “perfect” lover, and in his eyes, Potato doesn’t meet his conditions: too innocent and too young. 
(special episode 1) This explicates why the young fighter is only considered as “fuck buddy”. 
(special episode 1), he is present, available, even emotionally invested—but he is never treated as sufficient. He is smaller 
(chapter 31) He denies the existence of feelings and attachment. 
(special episode 1) or humiliate the other. 
(chapter 34) Heesung, by contrast, is fluent. He can name, joke, insinuate. What he lacks is restraint and responsibility. His ease with words does not signal emotional intelligence; it signals control.
(chapter 34) Heesung enters fully aware of what he is likely to witness. He is not naïve, nor totally surprised. Hence he doesn’t flee right away. Yet instead of acknowledging the reality before him, Doc Dan is not someone the fighter fucks, until he passes out, 
(chapter 34) Joo Jaekyung becomes the problem, the one who “deserves to suffer.” 
(chapter 25), accepts deferral. Later, he is displaced entirely. Unlike Kim Dan, who gradually moves from imposed participation to earned agency, Potato is never given a space where effort leads to recognition. 
(chapter 85) However, this panel implies that the young man has already been able to enter competition. Striking is that his promise at the seaside sounds like commitment 
(chapter 59), but the reality diverges. It only binds doc Dan. If the latter returns to Seoul, he has to promise to train with Potato. The reason is simple. He is already committed to the actor, he is already at his beck and call. Potato’s promise echoes the earlier promise forced upon Kim Dan by his grandmother: a future-oriented vow that justifies present sacrifice while guaranteeing nothing in return. 
(chapter 11)
(chapter 78), he didn’t remind doc Dan of his promise. At the same time, observe that none of the fighters apologized or promised something. When they hugged the doctor, they didn’t pay attention to the physical therapist’s reaction: his passivity and silence. The “laugh” lacked genuineness and felt wrong at the time. 
(chapter 78) 
(Chapter 88) This is how it dawned on me why Mingwa recreated such a situation for Heesung. Observe his reaction, when he opened the door. He never answered the question to Potato. In fact, he slammed the door and kept his thoughts to himself. 
(chapter 35). In both cases, Heesung benefits from proximity without assuming responsibility for the other person’s risk. Silence, here, is not neutral—it is the mechanism by which that asymmetry is maintained.
(chapter 88) Forgiveness, responsibility, and mutual recognition—central to the arc unfolding elsewhere—are entirely absent from his conduct. Where Joo Jaekyung begins to redistribute choice and accountability, Heesung consolidates control by refusing to speak.
(chapter 88) The irony is that the actor didn’t realize this. He had the impression to be exposed to a similar scene than in the penthouse. 
(chapter 35) And now, pay attention to the logo on the doctor’s t- shirt. 
(chapter 88) First, it appears on the left side, positioned close to the hamster’s heart. Moreover, it looks like an orange eye. Orange is not only the color of Heesung the fox 
(chapter 79) Besides, it is the same logo than when Yoon-Gu was spying behind the closed door.
(chapter 23) That’s the moment Potato realized the truth about the couple: they were intimate. That’s the reason why I am convinced that Heesung will play the role of the messenger and mediator between the wolf and the hamster.
(chapter 103) The shoes were revealing that he was an official! However, the moment Jung In-Hun resurfaced, I suspected him for a moment, because he had been wearing the boots. 
(chapter 111) Nonetheless, episode 115 exposed his true role in the conspiracy. He was just an accomplice, for he had entrusted his glasses to the author of the letter. 
(chapter 115) 
(chapter 103) The ghost is wearing the hat of an elder, a patriarch. 
(chapter 67) 
(chapter 103) This had been truly a manhunt! Because both people are wearing items belonging to the upper class, I come to the deduction that the perpetrators were elders, both officials.
(chapter 82) and Father Lee wearing one. But I am excluding the patriarch Yoon, as the testimony from the masked guard represents the elder’s innocence. 
(chapter 107) Besides, he doesn’t have any high position and the form of his hat is a little different (3 peaks on the side) 
(chapter 88) Remember what I had written in the essay “The shadow behind the shrine”. This picture exposes betrayal, something lord Shin was not expecting at all. And what is the worst betrayal? The son backstabbed by his own father! And we would have two elders involved! Naturally, this signifies that they were working together during that night.
(chapter 107) If the king executed his own son, the patriarch Yoon Chang-Hyeon could do the same. It was actually justifying the violation of Confucianism. For me, this topic was brought up, because a father had been put in the very same situation! He had to sacrifice his own son. And note what the gossiping woman criticized on the street: 
(chapter 106) The young nobles would always be protected by their fathers. Therefore it is not surprising why the schemers desired Yoon Chang-Hyeon to experience the same, the abandonment and the loss of a heir! Hence the second young master got targeted first. Thus lord Song only proposed the main lead’s assassination after making this first suggestion: 
(chapter 107) He was initially trying to repeat the same action from the past, but he failed. Therefore he targeted Yoon Seungho, and this time, the elder master gave in: 
(chapter 107) However, the cause for this assassination was blackmail. 
(chapter 107) It is because he needed a justification for the meddling in the Yoons’ affair. The document in question is the petition Yoon Seungwon stole from his father: 
(chapter 118) This explicates why the assassination failed, as Yoon Seungho was not the real owner of the paper. 
(chapter 116) In other words, both brothers were protecting each other in a certain sense. But by entrusting the petition to Baek Na-Kyum, Yoon Seungwon turned the painter into a target! 
(chapter 116) 
(chapter 88) In the bedchamber next to Baek Na-Kyum, Yoon Seungho was recalling a memory, but he couldn’t just identify the face, for his memory had been long repressed. The latter had refused to listen to him exactly like with lord Shin in the woods: 
(chapter 88), I come to the conclusion that this shadow was Kim’s. 
(chapter 107) stated that he was no longer an official, we could exclude him as a suspect, unless he is lying. For me, he is not telling the truth. Honestly, he is wearing a purple hanbok which is actually reserved to people close to the royal family. Moreover, the hanbok has a design indicating that he is not poor, living in seclusion. Besides, let’s not forget the comment from the kisaeng welcoming him. He hadn’t come to the gibang for a while. 
(chapter 107) Why? There exist 2 possibilities. Either he lived in exile or he was living in Hanyang and working as an official. I am more tending more towards the second possibility. Why? It is because he spent a lot of money for that night in episode 107: 
(chapter 107) Hence the kisaengs were asked to welcome the important guest at the gate. He was definitely a rich influential nobleman. 
(chapter 76) or he could save Yoon Seungho, even when the latter had assassinated lord Jang 
(chapter 102) Why was he so sure? It is because his father had a high position. He was definitely relying on his father’s influence! And now, observe the evolution of the story. Black Heart is now framed for everything, he has become the scapegoat! 
(chapter 113) This explicates why Min was accused of lord Shin’s murder. 
(Chapter 107) The purpose was to hide the intervention of a third party! Note that Yoon Seungho suspected his father immediately after visiting the burned shrine. He is not envisioning the involvement of other elders. Anyway, the blame on Black Heart signifies that the reputation of Min’s family has been tarnished, unless this gossip was created for the learned sir’s ears. If this gossip is circulating around, not only Min’s father lost his heir, but also he failed in his duty to keep the lineage 
(chapter 82) Another interesting aspect is that Byeonduck revealed the names of the perpetrators in the shrine: “Lee Jihwa”, lord Jang, lord Shin, lord Park and Min. Finally, according to my theory, the Webtoonist created different people who looked like “lord Song” from episode 83 
(chapter 83), for the latter had been seen wearing a purple hanbok with a design. However, the hair color, the shape of the beard and the design of the hanbok indicate that we are dealing with different people. 
(chapter 118) They needed him to betray Yoon Seungho. 
(chapter 83) How did Lee Jihwa know his name? 
(chapter 83) And observe what the learned sir said after burning the letter: 
(chapter 115) Min has also been investigating Yoon Seungho’s past in order to find his weaknesses. However, he couldn’t find the person lord Song! As you can see, this name oozes mystery and danger. And this reinforces my theory that people have been impersonating “lord Song” and the latter’s name has become a taboo! And that would fit to No-Name’s situation. 
(chapter 76) He doesn’t possess a name, and as such he has no identity. Moreover, he is wearing a mask indicating that he is playing different roles. Moreover, he often vanishes. He is like a ghost! Exactly like lord Song… Yoon Seungho only knows his name, but he has not been able to identify his face! 
(chapter 86) 
(chapter 103) Another important detail was the absence of footprints in the snow. The imprint would have revealed the identity of the perpetrators: the boots, the evidence of the involvement of officials. To conclude, the elders are responsible for the young lords’ death: Min, lord Jang, lord Park and lord Shin! By tricking Yoon Seungho and Min, the result was that they were forced to dirty their own hands.
(chapter 83) Besides, don‘t forget that Black Heart got fooled himself and ended up dead. But like I outlined it before, their plan won‘t work because of the butterfly „Baek Na-Kyum“. 
(Chapter 115) The reality was too painful, hence he chose the illusion, thinking that with his new position, he would be able to do anything, especially if he is getting the support from lord Song. In my opinion, he is falling into a trap. He would realize it, if he pondered and didn‘t let his emotions cloud his judgement. Lord Song waited for his suffering and humiliation. By rejecting reality, the learned sir chose the nightmare, a very unpleasant and frightening experience. 
(chapter 106) How could he abandon his lover like that? For some readers, he acted like a fool. Nevertheless, his reaction was normal, because the man with the purple hanbok represents the cause for Yoon Seungho’s martyrdom. This means that the ghost with the purple hanbok symbolizes danger for the protagonist. And if he gets targeted, his lover will suffer too. Striking is that during the same day and night, there is another person wearing a purple hanbok: Yoon Seungho! 
(chapter 107) Therefore it is no coincidence that in chapter 107, he was portrayed as a source of danger for the elder master Yoon and the mysterious “lord Song”. 
(chapter 10) Under this new approach, it becomes comprehensible why the artist was wearing a purple hanbok after the bloodbath. 
(chapter 102) He was the reason for the “purge”. From my perspective, the artist is cleaning the “place”, hence he is the target of the villains and antagonists. At the same time, this color represents Joseon’s royalty, hence it is no coincidence that the king was mentioned in this very episode. 
(chapter 107) They had the impression that he was abandoning the artist one more time. And that’s how the painter felt the situation either! That’s the reason why Baek Na-Kyum was upset. 
(chapter 107) It was, as if the main lead was acting like the patriarch Yoon. This perception got reinforced, because the lord had a poker face and didn’t talk to his lover. 
(chapter 107) Yoon Seungho didn’t side with the old bearded man in front of the painter. He thanked the man and sent away him with respect. 
(chapter 107) So he gave the impression that he was listening to the painter. However, the reality was that at the end, he still listened to the doctor thinking that it was for the painter’s best interest. Since Baek Na-Kyum was traumatized from the sexual assault, the main lead thought that he was hiding his illness or he was in denial. What caught my attention is that Yoon Seungho followed the doctor leaving the artist in the bedchamber alone. On the one hand, this could be perceived as a prison, yet I judge his gesture as the opposite. It is to protect Baek Na-Kyum! In Yoon Seungho’s mind, behind the closed door, his lover won’t see or hear what is happening in the courtyard. He will be protected from cruel reality. 
(chapter 107) He showed no real empathy for Baek Na-Kyum. It was, as if he was showing Schadenfreude. But this doesn’t end here. Kim brought a different doctor. It is not the same physician who assisted Baek Na-Kyum a month ago!! 
(chapter 107) First, the clothes diverge. The belt is blue, his sleeves are covered with some white protections. 
(chapter 107) 
(chapter 103) Finally, the white hanbok is much longer, and his pants are blue, while the other had white trousers. In my essay 
(chapter 107) How could he say that his health had deteriorated since a month ago? This is how the artist looked like a month ago: 
(chapter 103) 
(chapter 103) He was under the influence of the aphrodisiac, and he could have died of an overdose. 
(chapter 103) His face and his body were covered with bruises. How could the doctor say that his condition had worsened? This means that he had not seen the patient a month ago. To sum up, the doctor was impersonating his fellow. Note that he claimed to have prescribed the drug himself. 
(chapter 106) However, this image displays the betrayal from the physician, for I believe that this represents his view The latter had seen the artist in the restroom, but he had not intervened!! Besides, just because the artist had disgorged once, this doesn’t signify that he had done it all the time for one month. This is how the artist looked like, while he was walking through the street: 
(chapter 104) He looked healthy and happy. The reason for his nervousness was the lord’s actions during that day. Moreover, the painter’s hand had been scratched… yet you see no bandage around his hand.
(Chapter 107) As you can see, the doctor was exaggerating, as he was generalizing the regurgitation! 
(chapter 107) Yoon Seungho was slowly realizing that his butler has not been telling the truth. He was gritting his teeth exposing his discomfort! This gesture indicates that someone has to endure something unpleasant, has to control himself and persevere. However, he was telling the opposite to his master: he had nothing to worry!! He should do nothing and simply lie low. The authorities had no suspicion about him. That’s the reason why the main lead desired to talk to the valet
(chapter 107), and he got angry, for his servant was talking back and not answering him properly. 
(chapter 107) We could say that the latter was not obeying his lord. Striking is that the domestic was also lying, for he feigned ignorance first, before giving a more precise answer. 
(chapter 107) It looks like valet Kim and the physician got away with their tricks, for neither the doctor nor the the butler got admonished in the bedchamber. But what caught my attention is that after hearing the words from his lover, he replied that way: 
(chapter 107) This expression (“I see”) is important, because it could be the indication that the noble could discern the truth with his mind’s eye, like this 
(chapter 107) or the opposite, though I am still optimistic. We will see in the next chapter. 
(chapter 106), but we shouldn’t overlook that later the painter had yelled in order to voice his opinion which had caught his companion by surprise. 
(chapter 57) The father was convinced that his son had been ill for a long time. And from the mysterious “lord Song”, the manhwalovers discovered that the main lead was fed with an aphrodisiac: 
(chapter 107) 
(chapter 57) Therefore the doctor’s statement in episode 57 appears in a different light: he knew what he was prescribing! He knew what Yoon Chang-Hyeon desired thanks to the idiom “the wayward yang energies”. It was to provoke an erection. I would like to expose that the physician deceived the painter, 
(chapter 57) for at the end, the physician admitted that he had given the “solution” to the father. The father had received the medicine!! [For more read the essay “
(chapter 106) He was supposed to get a drink from the physician. So the lord could remember the artist’s words and perceive the doctor as a traitor and liar. He could jump to the conclusion that the man had given his lover a drug. Under this new light, it dawned on me that the artist could have been telling the truth to his lover there: 
(chapter 106) That way, the “doctor” would not be suspected of a crime. Besides, according to me, the couple was actually sitting in the courtyard where the medicine store was!! 
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 65) Furthermore, in season 1, the artist had been forced to drink an aphrodisiac. So far, the main lead has never threatened or suspected a doctor. As you can see, there is a strong connection between the doctor and death! To sum up, we are witnessing the start of the storm… and when the painter was recovering, this represented the calm before the storm!! 
(chapter 107) It is related to the rumors he heard in the street. 
(chapter 106) The woman announced that the sacred tree had burned to the ground!! That’s the reason why it was gone… However, her words were just lies, for the tree is still standing there. 
(chapter 107) But note that she connected the incident to misfortune! In other words, she was denying the intervention of humans!! However, the lord had visited the place of his crime before. 
(chapter 104) This is what he had been told: the intervention of ghosts or spirits!! On the other hand, the unknown speaker had never mentioned the tree! Only the house had burned down. Nonetheless, even this statement was a lie, for the house was still standing too. 
(chapter 106) Since the schemers are mixing a lie with the truth, the lord heard that lord Shin had been killed during that night! However, when the lord had assassinated Black Heart and his friends, the young noble had never met lord Shin! Hence the gossips in town made the lord recognize that something huge is about to happen: a manhunt, and he could get into trouble. Besides, the grapevines are revealing the existence of witnesses and the main lead is aware that the noona is an important « witness ». But the problem is that by mixing each time a lie with a fact, the schemers are not realizing that the truth is coming to the surface, as minus and minus make plus. 
(chapter 50) Here, the butler had tattled on the painter so that the noble would distance himself from his sex partner. And in episode 104, we have a similar situation: through suggestions, the main lead was encouraged to send back the painter to the kisaeng house. Secondly, why would the lord think of the butler, when he saw the sacred tree? 
(chapter 88) During that night, he discovered warmth, loyalty and tenderness! In the darkness, the lord could detect the presence of the light: the painter! During that night, they vowed fidelity to each other. And in the garden next to the shrine, Yoon Seungho made the opposite experience: it was dawning on him that people from his own family, Kim and Yoon Chang-Hyeon, 
(chapter 88) are lying to him and even betraying him, especially if his life is threatened. Let’s not forget that this time, the lord did commit a crime and he is aware of this. In the bedchamber, the lord had criticized his own father, nonetheless he still thought that his father had just made a bad decision.
(Chapter 86) His words implied that the elder master Yoon had never intended to wound him. It was just because of his stupid believes: 
(chapter 62) the main lead chose not to punish his lover
(chapter 63), he even swore that he would never let him go. 
(chapter 63) As the manhwalovers can detect, the main lead was always able not to get swallowed by the darkness, thanks to the artist, he could still see the light. However, his father is making the opposite decision, unaware that he is “doomed” to fail! Karma is already waiting for him. And because the patriarch is now living in the darkness, he can not recognize the manipulations, as he is forced to use others to guide him. 
(chapter 107) the branch on the ground is the evidence that someone set fire to the shaman’s shrine and the tree! Secondly, the black guard deceived the patriarch: 
These two men are different, for their mask is white and not black. Besides, their clothes are black and not brown. Finally, the belt diverges as well: a huge purple strip with a different color in the middle, while the other guard is only wearing a simple ribbon. Thus I am inclined to think that the black guard is not only manipulating Yoon Chang-Hyeon, but he is also in truth working for someone else. Moreover, why would the man cover his face in the room, if he is truly working for the patriarch? 
(chapter 86) And this observation leads me to the following question: when was lord Yoon informed about the protagonist’s crime and lord Shin’s death? 
(chapter 102) From my point of view, it is related to Lee Jihwa. My theory is that the elder Lee can frame the main lead for assassinating his son, because during that night, Black Heart was dressed like Lee Jihwa. They needed the corpses to be decomposed so that father Lee could claim that Yoon Seungho had killed his son!! And the hanbok would serve to identify the corpse. In addition, he would use the incident with the sword as an evidence for his lunacy. 
(Chapter 67) It is important that the red-haired master is not perceived as traitor, rather as a victim. Moreover, since some time passed on, people have already forgotten the friend’s confession in the inn. However, the elder master Lee will never report Yoon Seungho to the authorities, it has to come from the father himself. That way, his involvement will never be detected. From my point of view, the schemers are trying to turn father and son against each other so that the Yoons get destructed. One might reject my theory about the implication of father Lee, but let me ask you this… What are “Lord Song” 
(chapter 107) and Lee Jihwa’s colors?
(chapter 12) Purple and yellow, right? Observe that the lord is wearing the same colors during that night: a purple hanbok with a yellow scarf! 
(chapter 67) Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why I am suspecting that this guard 
(chapter 107) Furthermore, he could be recognized with the purple hanbok. 
(chapter 107) However, if you compare the form of the beard and the nose, the manhwaphiles can quickly recognize that Lee Jihwa saw someone else in the past, although the hanbok seems to have the same pattern than in episode 83. 
(chapter 82) So how can he be wearing a purple hanbok, if he lost his position and home? This color is reserved for important people. In addition, when he entered the kisaeng house, the artist’s noona called him differently: 
(chapter 107) She called him “lord Haseon” and not “lord Song”! Interesting is that neither the Korean nor the Spanish version utilizes such a name! I don’t think that the translator took the liberty to create a fictional name. Hence I am deducing that the author is trying to leave different clues in each version!! Naturally, Haseon could be his first name, yet there is no ambiguity that this man has a bad reputation among the kisaeng house. He was called “lecher” and in the Spanish version, he was described as sexual maniac. 
(chapter 107) Hence I doubt that the noona would feel so close to such a man and address him with his “first name”. On the other hand, the kisaeng has a drop of sweat on her face, which is a sign for a lie and deception.
(chapter 107) Besides, Yoon Chang-Hyeon’s vision of the world is based on the words from lord Song and others. Who informed him about the whereabouts of « lord Song » in the gibang? The man had not come to the kisaeng house for a long time. Because of this information, the patriarch is led to think that he is meeting « lord Song ». His perception of the world and his eldest son is embossed by lord Song. Thus he repeats the same expression from his counterpart: “lowly beast”. 
(Chapter 107) 
(chapter 107) Finally, like outlined above, the main lead imagined that he was meeting the same doctor, while in truth it was not the case. So « old friend » could be deceiving:. 
(Chapter 107) He could be one of the three men! The real « lord Song » who brought pain to Yoon Seungho is someone else. Let’s not forget that Kim fears the man, 
(chapter 56) and his statement implies that Yoon Seungho is usually not allowed to ignore the man’s request: 
(Chapter 56). « At this time » stands in opposition to « always » which means that he can reject the invitation only because he is sick. To conclude, for me, this is not the lord Song Yoon Seungho hates and fears! 
(Chapter 107) Moreover, he didn’t visit the kisaeng house for a long time,
(Chapter 107) Hence they judge him as a pervert. And since the head-kisaeng received him at the gate, this signifies that this man has been in contact with the kisaeng house and in particular with the kisaeng leading him to the room.
(chapter 37) The fake servant NEVER mentioned the retirement of lord Song. As you already know, for me, No-Name is the real lord Song who took the blame for everything, for he let people use his “name”. The most terrible thing is that “lord Song” puts the blame on Yoon Chang-Hyeon, when he explains his failure about the sexual education. 
(Chapter 33) Secondly, how does the lord know about the master’s illness, when his fever was only discovered after the straw mat beating?
(Chapter 77) Besides, no physician had been fetched back then. Finally, how can lord Song remember the lord’s condition so well after 10 years? It is because he is using the diagnosis on the painter from the previous doctor: 
(chapter 103) Here, the man with the purple hanbok was utilizing the painter’s illness to hide his own crime. Under the pretense to help « Yoon Seungho » to become a man, the man abused him not only physically, but also sexually. There is no doubt that this reconversion was fake! 
(chapter 76) But there is another reason why Yoon Chang-Hyeon doesn’t get fooled a second time. 
(Chapter 77) Thus I come to the following deduction: Yoon Seungho was sentenced to the straw mat beating, because after 2 nights, he had not been able to « have an erection ». They mixed a truth with a lie: 
(chapter 52) And what had Black Heart thought during that night? He had wished to taste the artist, while before he had desired his death. This is not random at all. There is a strong connection between death and sex which is also present in the conversation between lord Song and his « old friend ». The former reproached the elder master Yoon to have protected his son for too long. 
(Chapter 78) 
(chapter 107) Hence I am now assuming that this night is a reflection from chapter 67 and 69!! Min’s plan! 
(chapter 69) He had gone to the kisaeng house with the hope that the artist would return with his noona, and back then he had impersonated Lee Jihwa for the first time. 
(chapter 69) As the manhwalovers can detect, the sudden return of lord Haseon is intentional. So who is he targeting here? 
(chapter 86) 
(chapter 86) He was the keeper of his secret!! This explicates why the fake lord Song mentions « lad » and not the main lead. He gaslighted his counterpart, and created a false reality, while for me, it is clear that the real source of threat is Baek Na-Kyum. And who wanted him to be removed from the main lead’s side? Father Lee! 
(Chapter 82) In fact, both schemers have one goal in common: the couple is the victim and witness of their « crimes ». 
of season 4 for this essay, though my focus is the past, and more precisely Yoon Seungho’s suffering. It is because the darkness surrounding the protagonist not only refers to his tragic youth, but also it reflects the situation of the manhwalovers. The latter are still in the dark concerning his torment. His terrible secrets have not been totally unveiled. So far, the author allowed the readers to see glimpses of his past, like f. ex. the gangrape or the suicide of his mother. But these were just small pieces of the puzzle, thus it is still impossible to have a complete picture of his martyrdom. There are many reasons for this. The main victim never testified about his suffering, he refused to open up to Baek Na-Kyum. 
(chapter 84) Then many witnesses vanished 
(chapter 86) or the ones alive preferred telling lies in order to hide their own wrongdoings or are simply in denial about their own culpability. Finally, the victim, the perpetrators and accomplices had no idea about the whole truth. They only know or knew certain facts, because many of them were deceived as well. What exactly happened to Yoon Seungho? How could this take place, though he belonged to one of the most powerful noble families? Now, you are probably expecting that I will give you answers to all these questions, and recreate the past. But I have to admit that it is not possible, for I don’t know the whole chronology. Consequently, I added “shadowy” in the title. To conclude, my real intention is more to offer new pieces from the riddle than create a whole new “story”. The main source for this new insight is the painter’s fate which is a reflection from the noble’s past and torment. This means that Byeonduck left traces in season 1, 2 and 3! That’s how I discovered that he had been abandoned and betrayed by everyone, kidnapped, treated as a male kisaeng, robbed, abused, raped and even gangraped at least twice, tortured and finally drugged! But like mentioned above, it is difficult to give the proper order and the persons truly involved in the crimes. On the other hand, what I can guarantee is that Yoon Seungho’s nightmare is linked to conspiracies. I came to this conclusion, because if you compare all the seasons, you will detect the presence of plots. There exists at least 3 main plots in each season, though there definitely exist more. The conspiracies are all connected to incidents. 
(chapter 9), so that the latter visited Lee Jihwa to arouse his jealousy. It was to push him to commit a crime so that Baek Na-Kyum would be removed from the main lead’s side. As you can see, there were 3 people involved, though the readers only saw the result. 
(chapter 12) They had the impression that the red-haired master had acted on his own. However, he had been manipulated, incited to commit a crime. But my point is not to diminish his wrongdoing, rather to expose the involvement of the schemers. Hence at the end of season 1, the author unveiled their true role and as such their identities. 
(chapter 43) However, observe that when Lee Jihwa went to the pavilion, the noble with the mole had other guests. 2 nobles left the place, as they refused to participate in a murder. 
(chapter 43) Funny is that they are now witnesses of Min’s crime. This can have repercussions in season 4. Black Heart had been the one who had suggested the assassination to Lee Jihwa. And the aristocrats were still there, when he had made this proposition. 
(chapter 19) And this is related to Kim and the gibang. Yet, the butler ruined Black Heart’s plan. To conclude, we have two main plotters in season 1, but the butler’s bad intentions were not detected, for Yoon Seungho’s bad actions were more eye-catching. People had the impression that the valet was defending the artist’s best interest. From my point of view, the number of persons involved in the plot kept increasing, as they needed more and more accomplices. The reason is that their plans didn’t work out like expected. At the end of season 3, Min involved the kisaengs in the gibang, while Kim asked the assistance of the staff, the maids 
(chapter 91) and the servants 
(chapter 97). Thus I deduce that in the past, the same must have happened. Many people were involved in the downfall of Yoon Seungho and his family. But who was the real target in the end? It is difficult to say with 100% certainty. 
(chapter 8) Thus in season 2, he came to this resolution: 
(chapter 56) He had planned to rape him before having him eliminated. This shows his inner conflict. From my point of view, the painter’s death is connected to the incident in the gibang. 
(chapter 1) Baek Na-Kyum was a witness of Min’s wrongdoing, just like the painter was a witness and victim of his crimes in the shrine. (chapter 99) One thing is sure: Min was full of greed and jealousy. He was determined to harm and ruin Yoon Seungho. Hence I come to the deduction that the real target of the conspiracy in the past was Yoon Chang-Hyeon. And his son was used against him. 
(chapter 16) This doesn’t look like a crime. However, it is one! It was done on purpose, to separate the couple. Someone had intervened in order to interrupt this session, and as such someone had been spying on them. Deok-Jae only revealed his spying activity from chapter 16 in season 2: 
(chapter 53) Yet, the one opening the door had been Kim. This gesture can be considered as trespassing and invasion of privacy, the new version of this scene. 
(chapter 16) But instead of revealing the truth, the butler sided with Lee Jihwa, and allowed him to trespass the propriety again. In my eyes, the butler thought 
(chapter 17) that Yoon Seungho would come to perceive the painter as a man consumed by lust. He imagined that he would caught them fooling around. As you can see, this ruckus was also a plot, though it doesn’t look like one. Why would the maids gossip in the courtyard? 
(chapter 18) From my point of view, the valet expected that the lord would fear people’s gaze and a scandal. Thus he would send away the painter to protect his “reputation”, but the opposite happened. Under this perspective, the manhwalovers can grasp why it is difficult to calculate accurately the number of plots and accomplices. Besides, some were naïve pawns, others not. And since I examined the first season more closely, it is necessary to analyze the vanishing of Jung In-Hun. His disappearance is strongly intertwined with Yoon Seungho’s secret. How so? The learned sir was determined to find the lord’s vulnerability and as such secret. 
(chapter 29) Thus many concluded that he had participated in the prank, faking his death. On the other hand, the manhwalovers believed to have seen Heena’s death! 
(chapter 99) However, observe that we never saw her corpse. She was still alive in this panel. I had already pointed out that her murder was actually faked. Her mouth was not covered, hence she could have screamed, but she remained silent (blank speech bubble). Secondly, she never moved her legs… contrary to Yoon Seungho’s behavior in the gibang. 
(chapter 68) That’s the reason why I came to the conclusion that 
(chapter 37) who is the king in my eyes. [For more read the essay “
(chapter 37) Since Baek Na-Kyum was wearing a hanbok, Yoon Seung-Won thought that the person hidden under the hanbok was no commoner! Thus he called him a fellow. However, this motive is quite thin! Yet, two new details caught my attention. His visit to the “fake shaman” and his request. Notice what he told the man:
(chapter 86) However, in reality, he was relying on the king’s help and intervention. And this confession to the “fake shaman” represents the learned sir’s karma. He had asked the painter to act like a spy 
(chapter 24), not realizing that he could be spied himself! He didn’t grasp that he exposed his weakness to the commoner: the civil service examination. Thus the man had constantly drops of sweat
on his face and interrogated Jung In-Hun. 
(chapter 29) The girl was there to create a certain closeness. He was acting like Kim, asking why! But the stupid and arrogant learned sir thought that because the man was a commoner, he was ignorant and could be manipulated like the painter! 
(chapter 29) He thought that the low-born would buy his lie here… but in my eyes, it was the opposite. He had already perceived the learned sir’s true nature. But he acted, as if he was agreeing. In other words, the scholar fell into his own trap. He envisioned that the man was “powerless”, but he overlooked his connections. The manhwalovers can see the contradiction, for he had approached the man due to his connections! .As you can see, I am more than ever convinced that the scholar has long been murdered. He was betrayed, exactly like he had planned to abandon Yoon Seungho! The pedophile must have heard from the servant about Jung’s plan, as he had confided it to the worker!! 
(chapter 37) But this doesn’t end here. 
(chapter 37) Yoon Chang-Hyeon was portrayed as a traitor! The “fake servant” implied with his statement that there was a conspiracy, and the patriarch was involved. But in exchange to save his own skin, he had tattled on the others! He was trying to insinuate that if Jung In-Hun interacted more with the Yoons, his reputation could get tainted. He could get suspected of “treason” too, or he could get betrayed too. While the man met the learned sir during the day, the brother went to the villa in a hurry during the night. 
(chapter 36) Hence he chose a different approach: filial duty. And the brother’s observation could only corroborate the pedophile’s perception. The scholar was Yoon Seungho’s lover, but he was also a backstabber. But let’s return our attention to the “mysterious lord Song”‘s statement: Yoon Chang-Hyeon is a denunciator, not a man of honor. 
(Chapter 67) Lee Jihwa had not only been denunciated, but he had been confronted by his friend! And the traitor was right by his side. As you can see, chapter 67 was a reflection from episode 37!! These two episodes have another common denominator: the betrayer had made the following suggestion. 
(chapter 67) In exchange for his “survival”, he should help Black Heart and allow him to act on his behalf. This was the new plan. That’s how he started impersonating Lee Jihwa. That’s the reason why I come to the conclusion that in the past, the impersonation must have happened, but it took place in the beginning. Secondly, I am assuming that a traitor must have suggested to Yoon Chang-Hyeon to leave the mansion and abandon his son behind! 
(chapter 27) And who is it? For me, it is Kim acting on the pedophile’s behalf. Striking is that in episode 27, the learned sir escaped death thanks to the intervention of the old bearded domestic and Baek Na-Kyum. Thus it came to my mind that the pedophile could even claim that he had eliminated the learned sir, because Yoon Seungho had attempted himself to kill him in the past. He had acted on his behalf. And what do have all these chapters have in common? SPYING and tattling! In episode 27, the servant unveiled a part of the past, 
(chapter 27) Someone had tattled on the Yoons in the past, but the patriarch was turned into the traitor himself which the young main lead came to believe. Thus Yoon Seungho could say this to his father: 
(chapter 82) Note that the aristocrat mentioned “punishment” in this context. So maybe, he denunciated the patriarch so that the whole family would get punished. Father Lee was definitely played in this scene, hence I believe that someone had already anticipated his reactions. He would seek revenge. But this doesn’t end here. I had connected “rash departure” to “treason and spying”. And now, observe what Yoon Seungho said to his butler 
(chapter 50) He had sent Jung In-Hun away in order to get rid of him! However, because of the expression “I thought”, I am quite certain that this idea had been suggested to him by the valet! I would like to underline that in this episode, the valet was acting as a tattler! 
(chapter 50) But in order to hide his own crime, he portrayed it as a rumor (It may not be accurate”). This truly underlines the butler’s MO. He used information and turned it as gossips to hide his spying activities. The shadow… Simultaneously, he turned gossips into a verity!! This is no coincidence that in season 3, the same method was employed. Yoon Seungho was supposed to have murdered the scholar and Deok-Jae! My avid readers can sense the leitmotiv in all these episodes. RUMORS are turned into a reality, and as such a CRIME! Even here… 
(chapter 94) This means that he acted as a traitor, tattling on his own relative. Finally, observe that once confronted with brutal reality, the father did run away. 
(chapter 87) The white bearded man’s words became a reality. However, since the fake servant, the mysterious lord Song, judges the elder master Yoon as a troublemaker and hypocrite, there is no ambiguity that the elder master Yoon will get into trouble. Since he did it in the past, he can only get suspected in the present. 
(chapter 86) But the worst would be that the painter is blamed for his assassination. He did it out of resent! But this would expose the true thoughts of the schemers, the pedophile and Kim. That’s how they act, when they feel offended and bothered. 
For me, the younger brother’s biggest wrongdoings are spying, tattling and badmouthing. And the best evidence for this interpretation is this situation: 
(chapter 44) He had given the ruined painting to his father, putting the blame on his brother, well aware that the latter would get angry. He was observing his father’s reaction. 
(chapter 44) Yet, there is a difference to the past. Here, he had been fooled! He truly believed that this was his brother’s doing, whereas in truth the butler had been the one who had fooled him. 
(chapter 38) And this is important, because when the letter was given to the brother, Jung In-Hun witnessed the wrongdoing from the butler!! 
(chapter 38) And now, you know why the learned sir had to die!! He had caught the valet in the act. He had betrayed Yoon Seungho, though he didn’t realize it. The learned sir tried to discover the content of the letter, and as such was prying on his sponsor’s weakness.
(chapter 38) Hence I come to the conclusion that KIM played a huge role in the learned sir’s death as well. I would even say that he was the one who pushed the others to have the scholar and the painter killed. Both knew about the butler’s tricks without realizing his significance. 
(chapter 37) Hence I deduce that as the story progressed, the role of the butler started changing. Now, I see him as a the main plotter, while all the others are now his pawns. We could say that the valet has gradually followed the pedophile’s path. However, there is no ambiguity that it was not the same in the past! 
(chapter 37) An idiom that Yoon Seungho constantly utilized: chapter 16, chapter 21
, chapter 50, chapter 71 
(chapter 71). This means that he couldn’t understand, for he has a different way of thinking. This outlines his narrow-mindedness and his tendency to plan everything. He doesn’t like surprises. 
(chapter 22) Nevertheless, the main lead could have never been involved in commerce, for he lived as a prisoner for many years. And this is what was said about the ruler: 
(chapter 76) He is not so wealthy. How come? Yoon Seungho’s fortune must have a different origin. 
(chapter 102) Min had never predicted that the young master would run to his friend and denunciate him to Yoon Seungho. However, since Black Heart had employed the assistance of servants
(chapter 101) , the kisaengs 
(chapter 95) 
(chapter 96), the officer 
(chapter 98), No-Name, the doctor with the drugs and butler Kim, this signifies that behind the name Lee Jihwa stand many people! As you can see, the name “lord Song” doesn’t refer to one person, but many… My theory is that No-Name is the true owner of the title, but that’s how he ended up losing his home and his name! That’s the reason why I believe that in this image 
(chapter 71) 
chapter 87) and 
episode 92. The schemers in the past had definitely played with illusions and tricks. Thus I am expecting that it is now the pedophile’s turn to get fooled.
(chapter 36) Here, the painter was forced to take an aphrodisiac under the pretense of his health. This action was repeated in season 2 
(chapter 54) and 3. 
(chapter 100) The nobles made him smoke opium or drink the aphrodisiac. The purpose of such drugs is to obtain the painter’s submission and control his mind and reactions. Striking is that each time, the perpetrators were “punished”. Kim was insulted and his plan didn’t work out. 
(chapter 37) As for the young lords, they were evicted like commoners and later the others were even killed. As you can see, each time the poison was employed, there was a retaliation. 
(chapter 47) 
(chapter 47) If the painter had not eaten with the lord, the latter would have never noticed the incident. However, he believed the maids’ words. 
(chapter 47) Hence he never investigated the matter. But this prank represented a serious issue. This could have been judged as an attempt against the owner of the mansion. 
(chapter 47) And now look at this panel: 
(chapter 83) Yoon Seungho had refused to take the drug! The bowl reminded me of the one from chapter 47! Finally, the butler had tried to give his master the drug in season 3 
(chapter 77), but the latter had again rejected it and this twice.
(chapter 77) Kim calls the drug “medicinal tea”, truly an euphemism. It is also possible that the real target of the poisoning was Yoon Seungho, but since he was protected by the gods, someone ended up taking the “drug”. Because he was wearing a purple hanbok, the investigator mistook his identity, a royal member. Hence the Yoons were suspected of treason. Don’t forget that during this party, there was a kisaeng by their side. 
(chapter 44) This was a blessing in disguise. The moment the main lead faces the king, Yoon Seungho will be able perceive the truth. The king was behind his torment, and the butler had been his helping hand all along, the professional spy planted in his family. However, I don’t think that the monarch will admit his crimes and apologize for his wrongdoings. He will need a scapegoat, and this can only be the butler, the only one who knows the truth! 
The manhwalovers could barely see Yoon Seungho’s face, for he was surrounded by darkness. When I saw it, my first thought was to associate the protagonist to “Sleeping beauty”. He had the same expression than in the bedchamber, when he was sleeping totally relaxed. 
(chapter 87) He was not tormented by a nightmare, like the painter discovered it in chapter 38: 
And the darkness reminded me of the forest of thorns and as such of the curse put on the princess. The darkness, the metaphor for the forest of thorns, is the reason why the lord felt trapped and suffocating in his torment. 
(chapter 86) This contrasts to the princess’ situation, for the latter had no idea about the existence of the prison. It only appeared, when she fell asleep. Moreover, in this picture
(chapter 94) I would like to point out that the artist has always associated this satellite to a source of joy and love, like we can detect it here. 
(chapter 94) Finally, Talia could get liberated from her curse thanks to her children. The splinter of flax got removed from her finger, the moment the babies were sucking on them. This signifies that she got revived thanks to love and life. Moreover, she woke up, the moment the source of her pain was removed. This observation leads me to the following conclusion: the noble can only be completely freed from this darkness, the moment his suffering is removed and as such revealed!! This means that Yoon Seungho will be able to voice his misery and denunciate the crimes he was exposed to. He will be able to identify the persons responsible for his suffering. He might know a name, lord Song, but he has no idea about his true identity. That’s how his burden will be erased. Like mentioned above, the noble’s physical and sexual assault will be brought up to light. That’s the reason why the new image announcing season 4 is so dark. They represent a reflection from Yoon Seungho’s past and torment. 
(chapter 38) I thought that the couple would share the bed, thus the lord could relax. He felt protected by his lover. In other words, I was already envisioning that this scene is a reflection from chapter 97/98, for the couple had not been able to sleep together. 
(chapter 97) However, the moment Lezhin published the second panel
(chapter 77) that he was doing it for the noble’s best interest. He insinuated that he was protecting him and he should trust him and his father. But this was not true, for he had not revealed the truth to Yoon Seungho, the stolen kiss. 
(chapter 83) In Painter Of The Night, the hunts were always used to provoke a quarrel and as such a separation, but it never worked. This is important, because this shows that the couple from the Italian story had to separate. It is now time to reveal the whole quote from Milner: 
(chapter 97) Back then, the lord was scared, for he still doubted the artist’s love confession. It was too beautiful to be true! However, back then, the artist never doubted his own resolution, thus he gave comfort to his lover by giving him his hand. 
(chapter 97) 
(chapter 97) In other words, he desired that the painter would follow his requests and as such he should vow him loyalty and trust one more time. The irony is that the lord was actually the one breaking his vow, for he left his lover without saying goodbye. Thus I conclude that in this scene, 
(chapter 78) This means that the lord is smelling his partner’s hair helping him to remain strong and calm. He is now trying to memorize his lover’s odor so that he can forget this stench, a remain from the past: 
(chapter 86) This can only help him to defeat his “opponents”. Finally, in different analyses, I had already interpreted that Baek Na-Kyum was embodying memory, whereas the lord stands for truth. The image is actually a reference to recollection and as such honesty. There is no ambiguity that both men are trusting each other, but the painter is crying, for he fears for his lover’s life either. Yoon Seungho is leaving him in order to protect him in my eyes. And this leads me to the following deduction. When the lord is about to leave, Baek Na-Kyum is not left in the dark contrary to episode 97. He knows the whole truth, for the lord must have confessed to him. We could say that he is not leaving without a word 
(chapter 97). Furthermore, this signifies that the artist doesn’t need any longer to rely on the explanations from others. Thus the artist will keep his promise
(chapter 23) 
(chapter 24) In other words, this announces the return of Yoon Seungho’s passion for painting! And it is the same for the painter. The erotic picture should reflect their love for each other, created based on memories. At the same time, this can only push the noble to demonstrate his talents to others refuting all the negative rumors about him: he is intelligent and possessing his whole mind. Furthermore, this can help him to reminisce his tragic past, what led him to his downfall and suffering. This signifies that he will be able to confront his past and his memories. He will be able to identify the rape, and Kim already exposed the truth to Yoon Seungho, when the former suggested him to ensure the painter’s consent. This shows that Kim was well aware of the sexual abuse, but he chose to never divulge the verity. On the other hand, the pedophile thought in the past that the young master would never forget him due to his position, thus he had no problem to leave Yoon Seungho behind and make no real promise. Departure was never painful for him… hence this quote (“Promise me you’ll never forget me because if I thought you would, I’d never leave.”) will become a reality for the mysterious lord Song, but it is already too late. In fact, the gods punished him by making Yoon Seungho suffering from amnesia. He is not attached by loyalty to the pervert. 
(chapter 57) That’s the reason why I believe that when an incident occurred during that night 
(chapter 11) However, there is no ambiguity that the painter can only fear for his lover’s life. The closed eye contradicts the haunted gaze in the shaman’s house. 
(chapter 102) Despite his closed eyes, he is now able to discern the truth, and it is the same for the painter. Their Third eye is now fully awakened. 
(chapter 21) This gesture symbolizes the epitome of the noble’s affection and the desire to give “happiness”. Then in the bedchamber, he did it in order to console his partner. 
(chapter 82) With his kiss, he was asking for his forgiveness. This means that the kiss on the eye serves as reassurance and comfort either. Thus we had this scene in the study: 
(chapter 84) The lord had kissed his lover there, because he was voicing his attachment and desire to redeem himself and to comfort the artist. As you can see, it was a combination of all the previous significations. Yet, the lord had not grasped the “gravity” of his “wrongdoing”. Thus the kiss was associated a certain playfulness in the study. As a conclusion, this image 
(chapter 94) 
(chapter 94) 
(chapter 34) 
(chapter 11) 
(chapter 19) He came to feel more safe during the night, until he met Yoon Seungho in season 1. From that moment on, his night life got slowly affected. That’s how he discovered that night could be associated to pain and agony too. Yet, deep down, he still felt safe by the noble’s side. As you can see, the new illustration 
, as Baek Na-Kyum was still viewed as a boy. Moreover, according to social norms, it was impossible, for his lover is a man. Then in front of Yoon Chang-Hyeon, he made fun of his father. 
, this indicates that Heena kept cutting Baek Na-Kyum’s hair. So even in the past, she was betraying her brother, though the latter never realized it. The loss of hair could never be viewed as a sign of love or empathy, for it contributed to the painter’s abandonment issues and his self-loathing. He was suffering as an outcast and due to his girly features. The men in the gibang could mistreat him, for he had no long hair or topknot. Why? 
(Chapter 56) 
(Chapter 59) 
(chapter 66) and treated as one too. This observation made me realize that Heena’s belief could be used as an explanation for her action (cutting off his hair): she hates nobles so much that she didn’t allow her brother to have a topknot. But why would she do that? My idea is that deep down, she resented him, for he was a free man, while she was a slave. It went so far that he was encouraged to wear a white headband, the symbol for servitude, though he is no slave! To conclude, the loss of hair in Joseon should be perceived as a brutal and harsh punishment. Without a topknot, one is left unprotected, is not viewed as an adult. But this stands in opposition to Yoon Seungho’s action in front of Jung In-Hun’s home. 
(Chapter 101) Here, the lord had spared his friend’s life.
(Chapter 23) cuts off the hair of the general Woo Jong Han, because he had committed crimes. First, he hid the fact that his sister had had a child before getting married to the emperor, which was actually a huge sin. The future Empress should have been a virgin. To sum up, he had committed treason, for he had allowed his sister to become Empress unrightfully. Then the field marshal had treated his niece as a slave violating social norms. 
(chapter 34) That way, he assisted his sister to become powerful by covering up for her crimes (silence and passivity). She had killed many people to hide her previous relationship and to increase her power. Striking is that the prince still spared Baek-Ha’s uncle, and this for many reasons. First, the latter had not only saved both protagonists, the empress’ illegitimate daughter Baek-Ha and the prince Nan-Woo, but also had admitted his sins. Secondly, he was thinking of his wife Baek-Ha who is kind-hearted. He knew that his death could upset his bride. 
(chapter 26) But there is more to it. Nan-Woo didn’t spare the man out of benevolence. 
(chapter 26) He had a role to play. By cutting off his topknot, the general lost his “power”, he became the prince’s pawn! Nan-Woo wished to use the uncle in order to get rid of the Empress. 
(chapter 23) That way, the protagonist wouldn’t even have to dirty his own hands. On the other hand, we could also say that Nan-Woo was forcing the Empress’ brother to undo his bad decision. 
(chapter 23) Since he had protected his sister Seo-Ha out of affection, it was normal that now he had to show no mercy towards her. By presenting Baek -Ha to Nan-Woo, the general was well aware that the future ruler would recognize the female lead’s origins due to her resemblance to her mother. Therefore, we could interpret that Nan-Woo had spared the general, for the latter had switched sides and expressed the wish to undo his wrongdoings. 
(Chapter 101) It is because he must have witnessed it himself in the past. I have already pointed out that Yoon Seungho would imitate people, especially his tormentors. So where did he learn from? I believe, Yoon Seungho copied it from someone… and this can only be “lord Song”. And now, the first loss of Lee Jihwa’s topknot can be perceived in a different perspective. The red-haired master was well aware that he had been spared, when he had lost his hair for the first time. 
(Chapter 101) He knew deep down that thanks to his friend, he had been able to escape the worst. Since he had been spared once, he was well aware that this time, the ruler would show no leniency and would ask for his head, as the main lead was no longer protecting him. Remember what the lord had whispered to Baek Na-Kyum: 
(chapter 23), he swore loyalty to the future emperor. This signifies that the topknot also symbolizes faithfulness, especially because it is connected to marriage. Thus I deduce that when Lee Jihwa lost his topknot for the first time, he was already judged as disloyal. Hence it is no coincidence when the antagonist screams that he would become the target of lord Song’s fury. 
(Chapter 59) First, lord Yoon could be a reference to the father and not only the son. Secondly, he implied that he had witnessed the scene, yet in reality he could have been referring to the outcome: the friend’s hair cut, just like the noona had only seen the hickeys on her brother’s neck. She had never witnessed the sex session. The noble with the mole assumed the perpetrator’s behavior, rage, based on the hair loss. Moreover, he could have been telling the truth: he had never seen Yoon Seungho so angry before, as the latter used to be weak in the past due to his social status: he was a male kisaeng due to his braid. This explicates why the noble with the purple robe would give an order to the host 
(chapter 8) He felt himself superior to Yoon Seungho, and never expected “disobedience” or “rage” from the protagonist. Striking is that the lord didn’t vent his anger onto him, he first smiled before grabbing him by the topknot. 
(Chapter 8) A simple change of hair dress had transformed the main lead. This exposes the gods’ intervention in this story. They let the man with the mole see the wrongness of his manipulations. Since he had stated that he had never seen the man so angry, his words became a reality in 3 occasions: chapter 8 like mentioned above, chapter 53 
, for he was not present, chapter 57 
in the inn. Here, he chose to run away, yet despite everything he still helped his friend Black Heart, for he was present in the gibang.
(Chapter 69) Under this new light, this panel from Twitter get a total new meaning: 
The aristocrat knew about the true identity of “lord Song”, and he had indeed never seen the man so angry that he would cut off the topknot of a noble!! This means that the fate of the noble with the mole should be to end up as the lord’s new plaything. In other words, he takes over the main lead’s previous status. He becomes the male kisaeng and ends up living in the shed like the protagonist in the past where the pedophile vents his rage and resent him for his tricks. But we will see. 
(chapter 59) Furthermore, he associated it to abandonment too. 
(Chapter 59) Yet, observe the drop of sweat. This exposes that neither Min nor the noble with the mole were expecting that Lee Jihwa would be spared!! They acted, as if the loss of the topknot couldn’t be a sign of mercy. But observe what Lee Jihwa was recalling, when the “friend” was talking about abandonment. 
(Chapter 59) He was by the protagonist’s side! This means that lord Song had spared Lee Jihwa’s life, for he had been present, when Yoon Seungho was suffering. Till the middle of season 2, no one was aware of the fallout between Lee Jihwa and the protagonist. None of the incidents in season 1 was leaked to the outside, hence the “pedophile” was not officially aware of the red-haired master’s wrongdoings. But the loss of hair in front of the learned sir’s house becomes the proof that the main lead has now left his friend’s side. He will be blamed for his suicide. Therefore it is not surprising that the young master chose to run away. 
(Chapter 101) He knew that the ruler would show no leniency or understanding. Thus the noble with the mole’s karma should be to keep his topknot. 
(chapter 27) The painter had saved his teacher’s life, and later the lord had restrained himself from hurting the scholar in the courtyard despite Jung In-Hun’s lies and lack of respect (he had touched the man’s shoulder). 
(Chapter 30) Here again, the scholar had been spared. Then in episode 53, the painter had embraced the lord to stop him from killing Deok-Jae. This means that Yoon Seungho must have also saved people in the past by using his body, and this twice, for I had detected the presence of two circles: Yoon Chang-Hyeon and Lee Jihwa. That’s the reason why the father could survive the purge, and why Lee Jihwa only lost his topknot. And the heroine from A Sip Of Poison can serve as an example. 
(Chapter 1) As long as the latter was living there, the Lees had nothing to worry. The main lead was protecting them from the king. However, the manhwalovers should keep in their mind that Nan-Woo had showed mercy to the general for his own interests. He should become his helping hand in order to obtain the throne. Hence I come to the following deduction: neither Nan-Woo nor the “perpetrator” had cut off the topknot out of real leniency. This shows that for these characters, the loss of the topknot is not the symbol for forgiveness which is not true for the last incident with Lee Jihwa. 
(chapter 1) Even the headband was different. This was no coincidence. He should never develop confidence and act as a lord. That’s how I recognized the following pattern. In front of the painter who looked like a minor, the main lead was forced to act like an adult. Thanks to the painter, he was encouraged to mature. Simultaneously this meant that at some point, while living with the Lees, the elder master Lee had to be confronted with the truth: his son’s sodomy. 
(Chapter 86) The reality was that the pedophile was the bad omen, but they couldn’t insult the king. Hence the young main lead became the scapegoat, people couldn’t separate the pedophile from Yoon Seungho. The “mysterious lord Song” would never give up on the protagonist. No matter what he would keep him by his side. 
(chapter 1) Moreover, we shouldn’t overlook the publications with the braided man: 
(Chapter 1) Baek Na-Kyum was not supposed to recognize the identity of the man having sex with the bearded man. From my point of view, Heena made sure to confuse her brother. Lee Jihwa’s humiliation became Yoon Seungho’s stigma. He became the culprit. Since in the past, the main lead had been blamed for everything, the perpetrators and accomplices chose to follow this “tradition”, because so far, they had been able to cover up their crimes. But thanks to the painter, it is no longer possible. Why? It is because the painter’s hair dress will serve as a mirror of truth: the absence of a topknot due to the braid and the hair cut will be perceived as an evidence for abandonment, cruelty and huge wrongdoing. This won’t be seen as a gesture of mercy or leniency by the two protagonists, for they suffered because of it!! That’s the reason why I am thinking that the pedophile’s karma should be the loss of the topknot which he viewed as a gesture of mercy and tolerance. But without the topknot, he is actually “castrated”, and as such humiliated for he can not wear his golden sangtu. 
Yet, contrary to Lee Jihwa’s haircut, the loss of the topknot should not be judged as the symbol of mercy and forgiveness, in fact, the lord would officially cut ties with him. That’s how the mysterious Lord Song would be taught an important lesson: he was a huge hypocrite and a violent and ruthless pervert.
(chapter 23) to give him a knife: 
(chapter 23) before grabbing Woo Jang-Hon by his topknot 
(chapter 23). Hence the hair fell between the men. 
(chapter 23) And now, let’s return our attention to Painter Of The Night. Compare the position of the aristocrat’s topknot after Yoon Seungho had punished his friend. 
(chapter 101) It was behind him!! Thus I deduce that he had used the sword, when Lee Jihwa had approached his friend. But wait… in season 1 and 2, Byeonduck drew scenes with a knife:
And what had happened before? Yoon Seungho had dragged his friend by the topknot before stabbing the amateur spy. This is no coincidence.
When this chapter had been released, I had assumed that this must have happened, when Yoon Seungho had lost his topknot! As you can see, I had already connected the knife to the loss of the topknot incident. 
(chapter 66)
(chapter 67) This shows that till season 3, Lee Jihwa had never been exposed to real justice. There was always someone ready to intervene for him. And now, you comprehend why the red-haired master felt no remorse to blame his friend for his humiliation in the past. He must have thought that if he had not been in his bedchamber during that night 
(chapter 83) This explicates why Lee Jihwa said this to Black Heart and his friend: 
(chapter 59) The antagonist had witnessed his friend’s humiliation and suffering in the past, just like Yoon Seungho had been present, when the first topknot incident occurred. From my point of view, the lord must have even protected Lee Jihwa. But the problem is that Lee Jihwa was just receiving his punishment in delay for the stolen kiss and his lies 
(Chapter 41) Due to the incident in the kisaeng house, Min had lost his privileged position with the king. Hence he got jealous. He could no longer screw” the protagonist, while he had to watch the lord’s slow ascension. To sum up, the loss of Jihwa’s topknot led to the “symbolic castration” of the infamous couple: Min and the noble with the mole. 
(chapter 77) And now, you comprehend why the pedophile cut off Lee Jihwa’s topknot! The latter had been blamed for the lord’s change of hair dress. 
(chapter 57) The hair was short or not? Now, I don’t think so. The mystery of Yoon Seungho’s suffering is linked to the hair dress, yet the readers shouldn’t realize it too quickly. According to me, he still had the braid, until the doctor questioned why Yoon Seungho still had no topknot. 
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 55) And who had given him the topknot? Naturally… Kim! Because he didn’t want to be perceived as someone who was violating social norms. However, there is no ambiguity that he hid his responsibility. That’s how Lee Jihwa and his “servant” got framed. They were responsible for giving the main lead the new hair dress. On the other side, I still believe that Yoon Seungho must have lost his hair too, but only once to the difference of Baek Na-Kyum! My reason is simple. Since the painter and Lee Jihwa lost their hair, and Yoon Seungho’s destiny is mirroring his lover’s, it signifies that the lord’s hair must have been cut too. But who did it? Let’s not forget that when Yoon Seungho punished his friend in front of the scholar’s home, 
(chapter 77) and this one 
(chapter 83) The length was almost the same, yet 3 or 4 years had passed in the main time. Let’s not forget that this scene represents the patriarch’s abandonment 
(chapter 77) and Kim had also experienced rejection from Yoon Seungho 
(chapter 77) in that scene. For the butler, this gaze could be judged as betrayal and abandonment. Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why the main lead was encouraged to blame and resent his father. If this theory is true, Kim pushed the main lead to cut off his braid, he did it out hatred and anger towards the Yoons. This would mask his own manipulation and culpability too. At the same time, the pedophile could benefit from it. The main lead was now an orphan, thus the bearded man could use him like he wished. I have an evidence for this interpretation. This is what Baek Ha said to her husband: 
(chapter 23) Being slave meant being orphan. The pedophile could feign ignorance about the main lead’s true origins. If he truly cared for him, he just needed to ask this: papers!
(chapter 24) This shows that in Painter Of The Night, all the elders were depraved and violent hypocrites. Like mentioned above, the pedophile had a huge interest to keep the main lead as his slave, thus he was turned into an orphan and asked to keep a braid. And Yoon Seungho’s mother could do nothing, for the son had cut off his own hair, a huge symbolic act. He was no longer considering her his mother. But because of his status as slave, the pedophile could never trust the main lead. Then the suicide from the mother put an end to this farce. Hence lord Song could tell his sex partner that he had become the head of the Yoons and let him “have” the properties, while it was never his intention to let him become responsible. If he had become a lord, he could escape from his claws. He needed him to remain in an infantile and dependable state. 
(chapter 94) By framing the elder master Yoon, Kim can deny any responsibility in the loss of hair of Yoon Seungho and in the messenger’s death. It was the father’s doing. The nobles like the Lees and Yoon Chang-Hyeon are now accountable for the corpses. In the gibang, Yoon Seungho never killed anyone and he even spared his friend, though the latter had kidnapped Baek Na-Kyum. Finally, the town folks are now aware of Lee Jihwa’s homosexuality and his relationship with the protagonist. So I believe that people will jump to the conclusion that father Yoon had turned his elder son into a sodomite and sold him him to the Lees which is not false too. The king has a reputation to maintain and he needs scapegoats in order to hide his involvement and his crimes from the past.
(chapter 33) 
(chapter 33) She not only treated his wounds, but also helped him to overcome on his guilt. He felt responsible for his brother’s death, for Nan-Woo had attempted once to commit suicide on the battlefield, and his brother had sacrificed himself to protect him. He was definitely plagued with remorse, self-loathing and shame. And that’s exactly what Baek Na-Kyum has been doing too: by simply loving him so selflessly and purely. Finally, Baek-Ha’s fate made him realize the Empress’ immense culpability. She was so greedy and selfish that 
(chapter 34) she had abandoned her own child! Thus he was freed from his hatred and guilt. Nan-Woo was able to perceive the wrongness of this social norm which was common in Joseon: the child is responsible for the parents’ sins! 
(chapter 33) Being an orphan outlined her innocence. And since I have already connected Baek Na-Kyum to the mysterious lord Song, I am quite sure that the painter will have a similar attitude than Baek Ha: 
(chapter 33) He will feel responsible for Yoon Seungho’s martyrdom. And if he is truly his son, his abandonment can serve an evidence of his innocence. On the other hand, the readers shouldn’t forget that his surrogate parents, Jung In-Hun and Heena, played a role in lord Yoon’s torment as well. Thus he can only indebted towards his husband. 
(Doctor Frost, chapter 225) With this picture, the manhwaphiles can detect the presence of the endless vicious circle, the ouroboros, which I had described as a kaleidoscope. The absence of empathy in both stories was the reason why no one stopped the main perpetrators. Woo Jang-Hon felt guilty, for he had raised his younger sister who had become a monster. Kim felt deep down guilty, but chose to reject his responsibility by putting the blame on others. Out of fear, he preferred hiding his wrong decisions and later wrongdoings. And now it has become his MO. This distinguishes him from the general who chose to put an end to his guilty conscience and paid for his crimes.. 
(chapter 34) 
(chapter1) Or was she simply the noona? 
(chapter 70) At some point, I came to realize that Heena had acted as the surrogate mother, but she had never clearly stated that she was the painter’s mother. In other words, his adoption was never official, which explicates why the main lead only considered her as his older sister. This is important, because her ambiguous status can not only generate problems, but also expose her betrayal towards Baek Na-Kyum. Note that in chapter 97, the noona treated Baek Na-Kyum as her “child” who wouldn’t listen to her 
(Chapter 97), while later she implied that they were both equal, for she employed the personal pronoun “us”. 
(chapter 97) On the other hand, she used her seniority as status, when she called him a fool 
(Chapter 97). He lacked experiences, hence he was too naïve, and as such he would trust the protagonist too easily. As you can see, Heena herself had an ambiguous relationship with her brother. Nonetheless, thanks to chapter 93, I got finally a definitive answer about Heena’s true identity. She is indeed the head-kisaeng in the gibang. I realized that the protagonists were invited to stay in Heena’s personal room. 
(Chapter 93) That’s the reason why the seat of the host was empty and why Yoon Seungho didn’t go there. He would have violated social norms, if he had taken her seat.. Moreover, by doing so, he would have revealed that he knew where the woman was. This could have raised questions.
(Chapter 93) This means that the figures were not sitting in the room shown in the last panel. On the other hand, their voices in the hallway exposed their location. The noonas and Heena were not far away from that door hidden by the veil. That’s how I got aware where Heena’s room was situated. In the last picture, the readers are turning their back from Heena’s study, which is right after the corner. Thus I could recognize the design of the building: ][ In the center, there is this huge hallway with the purple veils, but at its end, on each both sides, there exists a corridor perpendicular to the one with the purple curtains. What the beholder imagined as a door at the end of the hallway, 
(Chapter 68) was in truth a huge window. How do I know this? First, in this scene, the scholar was hiding a huge white vase with red flowers. Hence I deduced that Jung In-Hun couldn’t have walked through that “gate”, it was just a window. Therefore I assumed that he had to walk past the flowers, either turn to the right or the left. Secondly, observe that next to the lantern on the left, there is a small white panel. This means that the view from chapter 93 was more or less taken from the right corner. Moreover, in the next chapter, Heena is not facing this “window”, when she is in the same building. 
(Chapter 69) This time, the white vase with the flowers is standing in front of a wall. That’s how I deduced that Heena had to turn to the left in order to go to the hallway. 
(chapter 93) which is not present in episode 69. 
(chapter 93) Since I came to the conclusion that Heena’s private room was on the right side after the corner, I deduce that the kisaeng was not on her way to her room. Moreover, since the kisaeng was walking in the same direction than the scholar, I can only conclude that Heena was actually approaching the entrance of the building. I believe that she had turned around, but the author didn’t reveal this. One might argue that it is possible that in chapter 68, the learned sir could have gone with the painter to Heena’s bedroom. However, back then the latter was not the head-kisaeng. We know this due to the presence of a kisaeng standing right behind Yoon Chang-Hyeon during the sexual lesson. 
(chapter 70) That’s how I realized that Byeonduck had deceived the readers once again. She was playing with reflections. That’s the reason why I deduced that Heena was not talking loudly by accident in front of Black Heart. 
(chapter 69) It was done on purpose!! She wished that Min would take care of her brother. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the noona has a drop of sweat on her cheek. She is faking ignorance, she is acting, as if she was very protective of her brother. She uses illusion to manipulate people. In reality, she was acting here. One might argue that I am overthinking again. This is not possible, for Heena didn’t know Min at all. Hence she couldn’t manipulate him. The latter had heard of her for the first time in Yoon Seungho’s mansion. 
(chapter 66) But let me ask you this. How could Heena have never met Min, when she was the head-kisaeng? Secondly, just because the servant had never heard of the noona, this doesn’t mean that it was the case for Black Heart. The domestic assumed Black Heart’s ignorance, just like the readers. Moreover, recently I had detected that Heena had been standing in front of a mansion belonging to a noble. 
(chapter 46) This was not Yoon Seungho and Lee Jihwa’s mansion, for the gate and walls 
(chapter 67) diverge. Moreover, Min has been seen in the kisaeng house in so many chapters 
, (chapter 19) 
(chapter 59). Here, I would like to point out that in episode 59, Lee Jihwa had visited the kisaeng house on different occasions, for his hair was slowly growing. 
(chapter 1) 
(chapter 19) This image was showing us that Yoon Seungho was visiting the gibang. However, pay attention to the pattern of the doors in the last picture and the next: 
(chapter 19) The motive diverges, it looks like the one from the hallway with the purple veils. This means that the party was not taking place in the room shown in the former picture. What caught my notice is the presence of the white vase with the red flowers in front of the building. It was present in each scene taking place in the gibang. 
(chapter 93) For me, the red flowers symbolize Heena noona. This explicates why during the painter’s dream, the flowers were not present. 
(chapter 87), as Heena was not included in his vision. And this image 
(chapter 19) Striking is that the kisaeng had a similar hair dress than Heena, This is no coincidence. She was acting as the head-kisaeng. The manhwalovers will certainly remember that only two kisaengs had no braided bun or braids: this one 
and Heena. Look at all the others: 
(chapter 51) 
(chapter 93) 
(chapter 93) 
(chapter 95) The extravagant hair dress was exposing the kisaeng’s status. And now, you comprehend why the other noona explained the disappearance of Heena during that night. 
(chapter 19) But how could she sense that the noble was in a good mood? The latter was silent and not even smiling. 
(chapter 19) How could she claim this? In reality she was actually spying on him. Heena had no idea why the lord would come to the gibang, especially after suffering there so much. The kisaeng’s task was to dig up information. This visitation must have bothered the head-kisaeng. 
(chapter 99) He was wearing a veiled hat, yet in chapter 69, this was not the case. 
(chapter 88) 
(chapter 99) Under this new light, Min’s words get a new signification: 
(chapter 99) He was implying that they knew each other for a long time! The irony is that the manhwaphiles had the impression that their relationship was recent, and his cynical tone contributed to it. Secondly, he called her Heena, a sign that they were close to each other. Note that Lee Jihwa never mentioned her name. 
(chapter 99) His words even insinuate that Black Heart had just given the following order. The red-haired master should just fetch a kisaeng and in my opinion, Heena was waiting for Lee Jihwa’s arrival to leave the gibang. According to his words, he had no idea about the kisaeng’s identity. But is it true? I have my doubts now, and this for two reasons. Why would he ask about her identity, when he already knows that she is a kisaeng? The drop of sweat on his face is an indication that he is lying. But the problem is to determine if the deception is only referring to “I heard not a word” and to all the questions. Let’s not forget that he knew about Min’s initial intention. The moment Lee Jihwa arrived in the gibang, she just followed him. That way, they would avoid to attract attention, and with her new hair dress 
(chapter 93), the gibang had lost its “leader”. This explains why this noona as her right-hand had to explain the absence of the owner. 
(chapter 86) The latter had been eyeing the throne in the family mansion, but he failed to take over the mansion. This was the negative reflection of Heena. Whereas the kisaeng had a powerful position in the gibang, it was the opposite for the patriarch. He was no longer recognized as the head of the Yoons. Yet, both have something in common. Both lost their position for good, for Heena and Yoon Chang-Hyeon couldn’t take or keep the seat. We could say that both got defeated by Yoon Seungho. In chapter 93, the main lead acted as a respectful and calm master, whereas in the bedchamber he showed no respect to his own father. He talked back and even made fun of him. 
(chapter 93) To conclude, the surrogate mother and the patriarch made a similar experience in season 3. Both got deceived by manipulations and in both cases, letters played a huge role. 
(chapter 102) That’s why I come to the deduction that her murder will be questioned. Why? There is no blood contrary to the bloodbath in the shaman’s house and there is no corpse!! Since Black Heart used different corpses in order to deceive Heena and the couple, there is no ambiguity that the head-kisaeng’s curtains will be doubted. Striking is that Heena staged her death out of cowardice and selfishness, while Yoon Seungho made the opposite decision. He was resolute to commit suicide in order to follow his lover in his death. During that night, Heena and Yoon Seungho lost their “home”, but at the end, he found his true home: the painters embrace. 
(chapter 102) He gave up on everything (fortune, house and life), hence he will be rewarded for all his sacrifices. Under this new light, I am more than ever convinced that Heena has not reached the bottom. Her karma is to be punished for her deceptions and acting! 
(chapter 96) 
(chapter 52) It is because Black Heart knew Heena! I even believe that he had already met the scholar. Note that the man with the black hanbok was repeating the rumors about the learned sir. And the other questioned the main lead’s action exposing that he had never heard about this grapevine before. Hence I am deducing that the one spreading this rumor could only be MIN!! That’s the reason why he just said this
(chapter 52) That means that the noble knew the teacher in the end. Therefore it is no coincidence that Min was aware where the learned sir lived!! 
(chapter 52). Why? It is because there was an incident in the gibang!! 
(chapter 94) 
(chapter 97) 
(chapter 97) 
(chapter 97) her brother is detecting her deception. 
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 