Jinx: The Hidden 🐍 Predators 🐺🦊(part 2)

Why Two Wolves?

In the first part, I mentioned both Perrault and Grimm not because the stories differ superficially, but because their shared surface—the famous bed scene—hides radically different logics of danger. If one remembers only the dialogue (“What big eyes you have!”), the two versions appear nearly identical. A wolf deceives a girl; she is eaten. Yet the decisive differences lie not in the dialogue but in the structure surrounding it.

In Grimm’s version, the moral is embedded in the ending. The girl disobeys her mother by leaving the path.

Because of her disobedience, she is swallowed, but she is rescued. The huntsman cuts open the wolf’s belly; order is restored; the wolf is killed through a trick. The lesson is corrective and communal: authority intervenes, discipline saves, error can be redeemed. Red Riding Hood learns. She does not stray again. The world remains morally structured.

Perrault’s ending, by contrast, is final. There is no huntsman, no rescue, no second chance. The girl is eaten and remains eaten. One might wonder why. The answer lies not only in the conclusion but in the construction of the encounter itself. In Perrault’s original French text, the wolf is introduced as “Compère le loup”. The word compère does not designate a stranger. It implies familiarity — a companion, an acquaintance, even a friendly associate. From the beginning, the wolf is socially positioned, not alien. Hence the forest in this version is not associated with danger or wildness. The woods are seen as a prolongation of the civilization and society. The predator belongs to the same communicative world as the girl. The danger is therefore not external intrusion but internal misrecognition.

This familiarity is reinforced in the bed scene. When the girl arrives, the wolf does not immediately attack. He instructs her to place the cake and butter aside and then tells her to come into bed with him. Perrault explicitly writes that she removes her clothes before getting in. The intimacy is staged. Closeness precedes violence. The scene imitates adult seduction before revealing predation. The girl is not seized; she participates in the proximity. That participation is precisely what makes the ending irreversible in Perrault’s social universe. Thus the old French expression “avoir vu le loup” (to have met the wolf) means to have lost virginity or have gained sexual experience. Under this light, one might understand why the wolf as Joo Jaekyung’s personality fits so well. (chapter 3) The latter became responsible for the hamster’s sexual education.

In Grimm’s version, this dimension disappears. The wolf does not construct a prolonged intimacy. After the dialogue, he simply springs from the bed and devours her. There is no undressing, no extended staging of physical closeness. Violence interrupts; it does not grow from apparent consent. Grimm transforms the libertine into a beast. The danger becomes physical appetite rather than social seduction.

Striking is that at the end of the story, Perrault articulates the moral explicitly:

The ending is the moral. There is no reversal because social damage, in Perrault’s world, is irreversible. The wolf represents not wild nature but libertine society. He does not attack in the forest because woodcutters—witnesses—are nearby. He waits until he can move the girl into a private domestic space. He speaks politely. He proposes a race so that he can reach the grandmother’s house sooner. He performs civility. Once in the house, the girl observes inconsistencies, but she accepts the animal’s explanations. Her failure is not merely disobedience; it is misjudgment.

That distinction is why both versions were necessary. Grimm teaches obedience within a moral universe that restores balance. Perrault teaches discernment within a social universe that does not. He is promoting critical thinking.

And Jinx unfolds more in the latter.

The Director: An Anaconda or a Wolf?

At first glance, the hospital director resembles Perrault’s wolf. (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.

His resentment (chapter 90) reveals that his true wound is territorial. He can no longer find his targets within the hospital. He lost control. He lost narrative dominance. This explicates why the predator retaliated against Kim Dan by badmouthing him. (chapter 1) He made sure that the protagonist was economically and socially “ruined”. However, at the restaurant, what did he discover? A happy man with a companion! Despite his “revenge” for the loss of his territory, the physical therapist’s life had not been ruined. Thus he tried to slander the physical therapist, he was just a slut. (chapter 90) The problem is that the champion did not react like expected. He got angry at the “client” and not at the “prostitute”. He never thought that the main lead would side with such a person. Thus the hospital director voiced a menace: (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.

In Perrault’s logic, harm succeeds because it occurs without witnesses. The wolf avoids the woodcutters. Thus he relocates the act into a private domestic space. But one might wonder about the identity of the woodcutters in the Korean Manhwa. In the architecture of a scandal, the “Woodcutter” represents the Bystander Effect woven into the fabric of an organization. In the fairy tale, the woodcutters are physically present but functionally absent; their focus on their “job” creates a peripheral noise that masks the wolf’s approach.

(chapter 91)

When an institution like Saero-An Hospital (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.

However, visibility destroys that structure. It is no coincidence that the name of the institution is not revealed. It is strategic, it is about containment and damage control. (chapter 91) “Director of X General Hospital.” The letter X replaces identity. The institution remains faceless, protected, intact. Only the individual is exposed. He becomes the “black sheep,” the aberration, the singular deviant whose removal restores the illusion of purity. This means the system has not truly fractured. It has absorbed the shock. The management is shielded. The hospital’s reputation survives. The corruption is reframed as personal misconduct rather than structural tolerance. And that explains why the director initially felt safe. It is because he knew the “Mother” (the institution) and the “Woodcutters” (the staff/administration) were more invested in the “Big Hospital” image than in the safety of the “daughters” (the employees). And this is precisely where Perrault’s logic returns — not only through the wolf, but through the adults. In Perrault’s version, one might ask: where are the parents? The mother sends the girl into the forest without any warning. The grandmother only thinks how lovely her grandchild is, hence she is not talking about the dangers. None of them prepare her to recognize manipulation. Neither the mother nor the grandmother teaches her to question charm. She is well-bred, polite, obedient — but not trained to distrust sweetness.

Perrault’s moral seems directed at the girl, but indirectly it exposes society. A culture that values politeness over discernment produces vulnerability. The wolf thrives not only because he is cunning, but because the girl was raised to comply. The blame, therefore, is not purely individual.

The same mechanism appears in the hospital scandal. By omitting the hospital’s name, the article preserves the illusion that corruption was singular. But the panel in which Kim Dan reflects (chapter 1) disrupts the illusion that this was ever an isolated deviation. It reveals that shielding authority at the expense of subordinates was already the hospital’s modus operandi. The management’s instinct was not investigation, but preservation. Not accountability, but hierarchy.

This is crucial. Before the scandal became public, the hospital had already demonstrated where its loyalties lay. The director was protected. The subordinate was expendable. Dan lost his position; the director remained secure. That earlier incident establishes a pattern: institutional cohesion prioritized over justice. Now compare this to the anonymous article. (chapter 91) The article does not expose the forest. It exposes one wolf. Hence the hospital name remains concealed, while the man’s face is “revealed”. The director’s license is suspended. Publicly, the system appears decisive. But structurally, the logic remains the same: protect the institution, isolate the individual. The difference is only in scale. Previously, Dan was sacrificed to shield the director. Now the director is sacrificed to shield the hospital.

The mechanism is identical. This is where Perrault’s tale deepens the analogy. In the fairy tale, the mother sends the girl into danger unprepared. The adults create conditions in which charm is not interrogated. When the wolf succeeds, the girl bears the consequence. Society remains unexamined. Hence in Perrault’s tale, there is no huntsman because society itself is implicated. The wolf is not defeated because the environment that produced him remains untouched.

Likewise, the hospital’s earlier response shows that vulnerability was institutionalized. Victims were isolated. Complaints were contained. Authority was insulated. The forest was never safe; it was simply unacknowledged. The article does not expose the forest. It exposes one wolf.

And that is the most disturbing parallel: predators thrive where institutions prefer appearance over introspection. And now, let me ask you this question: what about MFC as institution then?

Perrault’s warning is therefore double-edged. It cautions young women about gentle wolves, but it also exposes a society that raises daughters to be agreeable rather than analytical. In both cases, the danger is not only the wolf. It is the world that allows him to pass as familiar.

That is why his language is not remorseful but retaliatory. (chapter 90) “If I fall, he’s going down with me” translates into: If I am exposed, I will contaminate the narrative. I will ensure that no one stands clean beside me. The threat is not about truth; it is about mutual ruin. This is Perrault’s mechanism inverted: when privacy collapses, the wolf attempts to drag the girl into public disgrace so that exposure harms both equally. If he cannot remain hidden, he will ensure that the victim appears complicit. What the director fears most is not prison, nor even moral judgment. It is losing control of the story.

And this leads me to the following observation: (chapter 90) The director claimed that doc Dan ruined his life, though the article makes it clear that it happened because of the collaboration of different victims. (chapter 90) The moment he got caught by the nurse in the office, gossips started circulating, and previous victims recognized that they were not the only ones. The man could no longer escape the gaze from the staff. Hence he had to seek his “targets” elsewhere. The restaurant scene clarifies his new method. He is sitting with a man in a curated adult space—low light, alcohol, controlled proximity. (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 90) That line exposes the structural wound. “Pandering” implies performance. It implies negotiation. It implies mutuality. It implies that he must now ask rather than take. In the hospital, he did not have to pander. Authority substituted for charm. Hierarchy substituted for consent. Privacy substituted for persuasion.

Outside that territory, he is reduced to the marketplace of mutual agreement, — dating apps, casual meetings, drinks that require conversation rather than compliance. And he resents it. I came to think about dating apps, because the perverted hospital director did not meet the man at the XY club (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) However, this lie was quickly caught by the unknown companion, as the perverted director paid no attention to him. (chapter 89) This exposes that the sexual predator hadn’t dropped his old mind-set, selfishness and entitlement. When the man abruptly stands and leaves, the director is surprised. (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.

This is where the transformation begins. Until he meets Doc Dan, the director functions like an anaconda: silent constriction, gradual suffocation, no visible struggle. The anaconda does not bite first; it coils. It removes oxygen slowly. The hospital setting enabled precisely that kind of predation—isolated rooms, professional hierarchy, reputational shields. After the loss of his territory, we could say that he becomes acting like a “wolf” from Perrault’s version. He has many relationships (all kinds of people to get by). Perrault’s wolf survives because he is charming and unmarked. He passes as “Compère.” Yet, the moment the champion crosses his path, the director transforms one more time: (chapter 90) This is where Grimm enters. His true nature got exposed, he is socially identified as predator.

Thus I initially deduced that the perverted hospital director would retaliate against the famous champion. (chapter 90) Jaekyung represents exposure. He is public, visible, media-facing. He has sponsors, contracts, a name that circulates. Reputation is capital in MMA. A scandal can destabilize a career faster than defeat in the ring.

But the new development alters this trajectory. (chapter 91) The director has already been exposed. His license is suspended. His name circulates in headlines. Even if the hospital remains anonymous, he does not. His face may be blurred, but within professional and social circles, recognition is inevitable.

This changes the mechanics of revenge. Previously, he could have weaponized narrative. Now, narrative cannot be weaponized — because he lacks credibility. Any accusation coming from him would be read as retaliation. He is already stigmatized as the wolf.

And stigma has consequences beyond reputation. He complains that he must “pander to all kinds of people just to get by.” (chapter 90) That line once indicated resentment toward consent. Now it reveals something deeper: he may no longer even succeed in pandering. Who would willingly meet a man publicly accused of harassment? (chapter 91) Even if strangers do not immediately recognize him, someone eventually will. His social ecosystem contracts.

He becomes even more isolated than before. This is where the transformation accelerates. And when charm is no longer viable and narrative manipulation is no longer credible, only one option remains: force without pretense.

This is where Grimm’s wolf enters fully. In Grimm’s version, the wolf does not maintain prolonged civility. He springs. (chapter 90) He devours. (chapter 90) There is no sustained camouflage. Violence becomes explicit.

The director’s inner monologue already reveals this potential pivot: (chapter 90) That sentence reframes restraint as error. It converts missed coercion into regret.

Now add stigmatization. If he cannot find partners, if he cannot reclaim status, if he cannot control narrative, if he has nothing left to lose, then the probability of retaliation and desperate reassertion increases. Not because he desires intimacy. But because he desires dominance. And dominance without insulation becomes assault.

The restaurant rejection already wounded his ego. Besides, his behavior at the restaurant could be seen as intrusion. (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.

Predators who lose camouflage often escalate rather than retreat. Thus the revenge element shifts from narrative contamination to bodily assertion. Not scandal against Jaekyung. Not media manipulation. But an attempt to reclaim asymmetry through direct coercion. This does not guarantee success.

But it increases probability. The fairy-tale logic therefore completes itself:

Perrault shows the wolf who hides behind civility. Grimm shows the wolf who leaps when civility fails.

In Jinx, we may be witnessing the precise moment where camouflage is no longer possible — and where the predator, stripped of territory and credibility, risks becoming the brute he once avoided being. The resentment we see in his thoughts suggests precisely that possibility. When he sees Kim Dan thriving elsewhere, when he frames him as “whoring himself out,” he begins to rewrite the narrative: if Dan is already a “whore,” then coercion becomes transaction. In that logic, force becomes justified. And remember how Heo Manwook reacted, when he imagined that doc Dan was selling himself: (chapter 16)

This is the most dangerous pivot. Perrault’s wolf survives through civility. Grimm’s wolf initially survives through brutality, until he is caught (the huntsman = police). The director initially belonged to the first category. After losing territory, he risks evolving into the second. To conclude, the shift from anaconda to wolf is not a metaphorical flourish; it is psychological escalation. Camouflaged predators who lose control often intensify behavior rather than retreat.

And now, you are probably wondering why I included the actor Choi Heesung in the illustration of “predators”, though he is a second lead.

The False Mirror: Choi Heesung and The Gentle Wolf

At first glance, Choi Heesung stands disturbingly close to Perrault’s wolf. Not only he appears as polite and gentle (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.

On the surface, the symmetry is unsettling. Perrault’s wolf does not attack in the forest. He speaks politely and seduces next to the Woodcutters. (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.

But what distinguishes a “libertine” is the absence of responsibility in their actions and words. Once the “Little Red Riding Hood” loses their virginity, the culprit is not blamed, but the victim. That’s why Perrault warns young women. The latter have to take the responsibility for the wolf’s behavior. Therefore it is not astonishing that the actor agrees that the chow chow becomes “responsible” for him. (special episode 1)

Because Heesung, too, prefers the private over the public, he exists in the gray zone where discretion and desire intersect.

But resemblance is not structure.

The decisive difference lies in how secrecy is used. Perrault’s wolf hides in order to extract. Civility functions as access. Privacy ensures there are no woodcutters. Sweetness precedes consumption. The wolf’s politeness is not restraint — it is strategy. Heesung’s secrecy functions differently. It is not just defensive, he still wants his partner to have fun. (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.

The wolf uses secrecy to manufacture vulnerability. Heesung uses secrecy to simply avoid visibility and responsibility. This distinction becomes clearer in their relation to inexperience.

For Perrault’s wolf, virginity is not intimacy. It is resistance waiting to be broken. (chapter 90) The girl’s naivety is eroticized precisely because it promises asymmetry. The invitation into bed is staged. Her undressing is narrated. Closeness is prolonged. The violence emerges from intimacy.

Control is primary. Desire is secondary. Heesung’s response to inexperience produces discomfort rather than appetite. (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.

What complicates the contrast with Choi Heesung is not that with his smiles, he resembles (chapter 34) the predator by accident (chapter 90), but that he resembles him convincingly enough to be confused with him.

In the first part, we wrote: “Something walks close, warm and familiar — speaking softly, until trust opens the way.” That description applied to the wolf. But it also applies to the fox. Heesung’s true animal is not the wolf. It is the fox (chapter 89) — clever, adaptable, socially fluid. The fox does not devour. It maneuvers and as such plays tricks.

And yet the fox can be mistaken for a wolf. Heesung repeatedly uses proximity through work to create intimacy. (chapter 32) He first approaches Kim Dan through professional contact. Later, he suggests a gig to Potato (special episode 1) or uses training space to remain near 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.

And here lies the dangerous resemblance. He reproaches Joo Jaekyung: (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. He knows the other is intoxicated. He proceeds anyway.

This is not predatory orchestration. But it is negligence toward asymmetry. This is where the question becomes unavoidable: when is it consent, and when is it coercion?

Is consent present simply because no explicit “no” was spoken? Is coercion present only when force is visible?
Or does the line lie elsewhere — in power, in context, in intention? Mingwa gave us the answer: (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.

From the outside, the structure resembles the predator’s method: work proximity, private space, imbalance, intoxication. But coercion is not defined by imbalance alone. It is defined by how imbalance is used. The hospital director manufactures dependence. (chapter 90) He isolates. He rewrites refusal. He eroticizes resistance. He regrets restraint. His desire intensifies when asymmetry is greatest. Heesung does not erode consent systematically. He does not isolate Potato over time. He does not rewrite refusal as invitation. But he does blur boundaries. He does allow alcohol to intervene. He does prioritize desire over clarity.

From the outside, that distinction may not be visible. And that is where misrecognition becomes dangerous.

Heesung does not publicly acknowledge the relationship. (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.

He would appear as a predator. Not because he functions like the hospital director — but because the structure resembles it. Fox mistaken for wolf.

The key distinction lies in aftermath. When Jaekyung reflects (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.

This is why Jinx constructs the resemblance so carefully. Surface similarity forces the reader to confront how easily desire, secrecy, and proximity can resemble coercion. The difference lies not in discretion, nor in imbalance, nor even in sexual contact under imperfect conditions. It lies in how power is processed before and afterward. At the same time, it gives an answer how to read the first night between the main couple. It was no sexual harassment.

The wolf converts vulnerability into entitlement. The fox risks vulnerability through miscalculation.

And yet — in a world quick to judge by appearances — the fox may be labeled as a wolf. That is the uncomfortable tension Mingwa builds. Because the story is not only about identifying predators. It is about learning to distinguish between domination and error, between strategy and immaturity, between systematic coercion and boundary failure.

If Choi Heesung’s relationship with Potato were to become public, how would it be read? Would he be framed as a predator — the older actor who used work proximity and intoxication to seduce an inexperienced partner? Would he become the new “black sheep,” sacrificed to protect the image of the entertainment agency? (chapter 33) Or would attention shift to the structure that allowed blurred boundaries to exist in the first place?

This question is not hypothetical. It repeats a pattern already established. Observe how Joo Jaekyung sued a hospital for leaking information, though the lawyer and the institution put the blame an individual. (chapter 36) When the hospital scandal broke, the institution remained unnamed. (chapter 91) The director was isolated as the deviant. The system survived. Corruption was reframed as personal misconduct. Structural tolerance became invisible.

If Heesung were exposed, would the narrative follow the same logic? Would he be condemned as an individual aberration? Or would the agency be questioned for cultivating environments where professional and private hierarchies overlap, where young trainees depend on seniors, where silence protects image?

The fox can easily be mistaken for the wolf. But the forest still matters. And this brings us to a larger structural mirror: MFC.

When schemes unfolded inside the fighting world — manipulated matches, concealed injuries, silent complicity — who bears responsibility? The CEO? The manager? The doctors who testified selectively? (chapter 41) The security guards who enforced silence? (chapter 40) The sports reporters who repeated the official version? The referees? The moderators? The corrupted director of the gym Choi Gilseok? Or the institution itself?

If one fighter becomes the scapegoat (chapter 52), does the structure remain untouched?
If one CEO falls, does the culture disappear? (chapter 47)
If one predator is exposed, does the ecosystem dissolve? (chapter 48) As you can see, I have the feeling that the pharmaceutical company might become the topic of the next scandal.

Perrault’s tale quietly asks the same question. The wolf is blamed. But who raised the girl to trust sweetness without discernment? Who allowed her to walk alone? Who normalized obedience over critical thought? The fairy tale ends with the wolf devouring the girl — and society intact. Grimm adds a huntsman, but the forest remains.

So when the next scandal erupts — whether in the hospital, in the agency, or in MFC — the real question will not be merely who acted wrongly.

It will be: who benefited?
Who remained silent?
Who enforced the hierarchy?
Who preferred reputation over accountability?

And perhaps the most uncomfortable question of all: Will another wolf be sacrificed — while the forest survives once again?

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Silent Friend 🫂 in the Blue Light 🧿👮‍♂️

The Hand That Says Everything and Nothing

There is a gesture in episode 90 that unsettles me more than any act of violence, any argument, any explicit rejection. Joo Jaekyung reaches out (chapter 90) — and then he pulls his hand back. (chapter 90) No words are spoken to stop him. His hand is not even pushed away, like doc Dan did it before. (chapter 21) Everything happens in silence. The interruption comes entirely from within.

As readers, we could be tempted to read this as restraint, perhaps even growth. Yet the text itself resists that interpretation. The thought accompanying the gesture is not “I need you”, but “Who am I to ask you to stay?” The question is not directed at Kim Dan. It is directed at himself.

This hand says everything and nothing at once. It reveals a conviction without explaining it, a decision without justification and dialogue. In this moment, Joo Jaekyung no longer sees himself as a person capable of care, protection, or repair. He sees himself as the origin of harm — not merely someone who committed mistakes, but someone whose presence has become synonymous with violence and sin. It is, as if he has absorbed every accusation, every outcome, every imbalance of power, until he no longer distinguishes between what he did and what was done through him. He does not fear becoming abusive; he believes he already embodies it. To conclude, Joo Jaekyung has reached a point where he positions himself as the origin of Kim Dan’s suffering. (chapter 90) In his mind, everything that followed the hiring — the money, the contract, the protection, the conflicts — converges back onto him. Faced with this conclusion, he rewrites the past. The good moments lose their weight. (chapter 26) (chapter 27) (chapter 88) (chapter 89) The help he provided becomes irrelevant. What remains is a single narrative: meeting him caused harm.

To grasp the logic of this withdrawal, it is not enough to examine this scene in isolation. We must also contrast it with earlier scenes, with figures who shaped his thinking, and with patterns of responsibility and shame that predate Kim Dan. Only then does the withdrawn hand reveal its meaning: not respect, not restraint, but the first visible sign of self-erasure and sacrifice — a silence chosen in the belief that presence itself has become a form of wrongdoing.

The Art of Letting Go

What is striking in this scene is not only what Joo Jaekyung does, but what Mingwa deliberately withholds from view. (chapter 90) We never see his face while listening to his thoughts. The panels deny us access to his facial expression (chapter 90), his eyes, any visible articulation of emotion. Instead, we are positioned behind him, aligned with his back and his outstretched hand, while his inner thoughts unfold in silence. Meaning is displaced from facial expression to bodily interruption. Jinx-philes must infer everything from posture, movement, and absence.

The hand he extends is open, hesitant, and trembling. (chapter 90) In Mingwa’s visual language, this matters. An open hand is not an instrument of control but of appeal. It does not seize; it exposes vulnerability. He needs help and support. The tremor is equally significant. This is not the vibration of contained rage or adrenaline before a fight. It is a body that no longer commits itself fully to action. For the first time, Joo Jaekyung’s physical certainty fractures before a gesture is completed.

At that moment, what collapses is not his strength, but his fighting spirit. It becomes obvious, when you compare this gesture (chapter 90) to his old habit, (chapter 61) the clenched fist, when he expressed determination to achieve his goal (bringing back doc Dan or winning a fight). (chapter 81)

Until now, Joo Jaekyung has always responded to crisis through resistance. Even when cornered, he pushed forward—by clenching his fists, facing confrontation (chapter 74), or converting conflict into challenge. (chapter 73) Fighting was not only his profession; it was his primary mode of being in the world. Here, however, the impulse to fight dissolves. (chapter 90) The hand does not harden into a grip. It falters. The will to confront, insist, or endure gives way to resignation.

It is precisely this loss that recalls another scene—not because the gestures are identical, but because the logic of bodily collapse suddenly aligns. In episode 16, Kim Dan does not begin by pleading in front of Heo Manwook, the loan shark. (chapter 16) His hand is first crushed. The antagonist targets the very instrument of his livelihood, injuring what allows him to work, to treat, to survive. Only after this act of violence does Kim Dan cling to his aggressor. (chapter 16) The grasp that follows is not an invitation, but a reaction to damage already inflicted. Resistance has been broken through the body before appeal becomes possible. It symbolizes submission, exactly like in the penthouse.

Mingwa stages this sequence carefully: injury precedes supplication. Kim Dan’s grip is not a sign of agency, but of desperation. He does not extend his hand freely; he clutches because he has been made vulnerable. Survival no longer depends on strength or refusal, but on mercy extracted after harm.

The echo in episode 90 is therefore not visual symmetry, but structural reversal. Joo Jaekyung’s hand has not been crushed. (chapter 90) No external force has targeted his body, his career, or his means of survival. And yet the gesture falters all the same, as the damage has already occurred.

The violence here is not enacted through force, but through language. Heesung’s words on the rooftop —accusations of brutality (chapter 89), unlovability, moral contamination (chapter 89) — do not introduce a foreign judgment. They articulate what Joo Jaekyung already believes about himself. (chapter 84) Deep down, he thinks that he can not be forgiven and even loved. This is precisely why they take hold. Spoken aloud, they acquire the authority of truth. Once internalized, they no longer need to be repeated.

Mingwa makes this internalization visible not through dialogue, but through a remembered image. (chapter 89) The panel does not show Heesung speaking again; it shows Joo Jaekyung’s clenched fist, isolated, rigid, suspended in recollection. This is not the fist of imminent action. It does not precede a strike. It does not convert pain into confrontation. Instead, it freezes.

In earlier scenes, the clenched fist functioned as a promise—to endure, to retaliate, to win. Here, it marks the opposite. The body remembers the accusation, but no longer translates it into resistance. The fist no longer gathers force; it contains it, uselessly. What we witness is not suppressed violence, but the final struggle and imminent collapse of the impulse to fight at all.

This is the decisive shift. The accusation has done its work. Joo Jaekyung does not respond by proving Heesung wrong; he responds by accepting the premise. If violence defines him, then restraint is no longer ethical struggle—it becomes erasure. The fighting spirit does not turn inward. It simply disappears.

Unlike Kim Dan, whose resistance is broken by injury, Joo Jaekyung arrives at surrender through “self-recognition”, another false belief. His hand retreats not because it has been harmed, but because he has accepted the premise that his presence itself is harmful. The violence has migrated inward. It no longer needs an aggressor.

In this sense, Joo Jaekyung mirrors Kim Dan not at the moment of physical injury, but at the moment after domination has succeeded—when resistance feels illegitimate, and appeal itself begins to seem like an act of transgression.

The contrast, however, is just as important as the resemblance. Unlike Kim Dan in episode 16, Joo Jaekyung is not on his knees. (chapter 90) He is not physically lowered, cornered, or framed from above. His body remains upright, broad, and imposing. From the outside, he still appears strong, yet deep down, he is falling apart. The withdrawal of the hand is not restraint, but surrender. A strong body remains standing while the will to fight quietly disappears.

What deepens the tragedy of this moment is that Kim Dan does not witness the champion’s action. (chapter 90) His gaze drifts elsewhere, toward the teddy bear. He is oblivious to the trembling, the hesitation, or the aborted appeal. Nor does he meet Joo Jaekyung’s eyes—because the eyes are never shown. The scene is structured around a double absence: a plea that is never fully expressed, and a witness who never sees it. To conclude, the physical therapist has no idea about the inner turmoil of his fated lover.

After revealing his past with the perverted hospital director, Kim Dan had tried to calm Joo Jaekyung by touching his arm , (chapter 90) offering reassurance. That attempt failed, not because Kim Dan lacked care, but because reassurance can only reach someone who is still willing to fight for their place. Joo Jaekyung is no longer asking how to endure. He is asking whether he should exist in this space at all.

What blocks Kim Dan’s words from reaching him is not their content, but the position from which they are received. Joo Jaekyung hears them through a familiar filter — one that reduces Kim Dan to someone who must be protected from himself. In doing so, he unconsciously aligns himself with the very figures who shaped Kim Dan’s silence: the grandmother who decided for him (chapter 65), and Heesung who dismissed his agency (chapter 89) under the guise of concern.

Yet Kim Dan’s words are neither naïve nor dependent. He states them clearly: the arrangement was consensual; the price was his to set; what followed was his responsibility. He does not ask to be spared, corrected, or guided. He asserts authorship over his own choices. (chapter 90) But this assertion cannot be heard by someone who has already decided that Kim Dan must be shielded — even from himself.

The rooftop scene before that night exposes the same logic from another angle. Heesung, too, frames Kim Dan as “too nice for his own good,” implying that he does not know what is right for him, and that any involvement with Joo Jaekyung must therefore be exploitation. In both cases, concern becomes a form of erasure. Kim Dan’s agency is acknowledged in words (chapter 65), but denied in structure.

Faced with this, Joo Jaekyung does not challenge Kim Dan’s claim. (chapter 90) He does something more drastic: he removes himself. If Kim Dan cannot be recognized as an equal subject capable of choosing him, then the only ethical position left, in Joo Jaekyung’s mind, is disappearance. By refusing to claim a right, Joo Jaekyung does return choice to Kim Dan. But he does so by removing himself from the field of choice altogether. There is no negotiation. What appears as liberation is inseparable from abandonment, because it is grounded not in trust, but in the belief that his presence is illegitimate.

This is why the scene cannot be read as growth. It marks the moment when the champion loses the impulse that once defined him. The withdrawal of the hand is not restraint, but surrender. A strong body remains standing while the will to fight quietly disappears. At this point, the language of the jinx quietly inverts. Earlier, Joo Jaekyung spoke of it as something he had—a misfortune attached to him (chapter 2), an external curse that followed his steps. Here, that distinction collapses. He no longer experiences the jinx as an event or condition, but as an identity. He does not fear what might happen because of him; he accepts that he himself is what causes harm. The curse is no longer something he carries. It is something he has become. Once internalized in this way, it no longer requires rituals to contain it. (chapter 75) Practices that once functioned as talismans—gestures meant to ward off misfortune or secure victory—lose their meaning. (chapter 75) What collapses is not only belief in luck, but belief in the necessity of striving at all.

A Space Marked by Collapse

This collapse does not occur in a neutral space. (chapter 90) The room in which Joo Jaekyung withdraws his hand is not simply Kim Dan’s bedroom, nor a private refuge removed from the world. It is a place already marked by interruption, illness, and loss. Again and again, this room has functioned as a site where bodies fail, where care becomes urgent, and where stability quietly dissolves. Fainting, sleeplessness, sickness, drinking, and disappearance have all passed through it. Long before episode 90, this space had been associated not with recovery, but with moments when endurance gives way and something must be endured instead. What unfolds here does not begin with the withdrawn hand. The room has been preparing it all along.

The pattern begins early. In episode 10 8episode 10), Kim Dan wakes up there after drinking excessively, confused why he is sleeping in the penthouse. He doesn’t know that the night before in his drunkenness, his thoughts were turning toward his grandmother. He was mistaking the athlete for his relative. (chapter 10) He feared getting abandoned. When the doctor realized his whereabouts, he imagined that he had sex with the champion. As you can see, the bedroom is strongly intertwined with longing and sin, where consciousness returns only after collapse. This association deepens in episode 20, when sexual intimacy is immediately followed by a phone call announcing his grandmother’s critical condition. (chapter 20) Pleasure and threat coexist in the same space, binding the room to the anticipation of loss.

Later, in episode 29, Kim Dan wakes up there after fainting (chapter 29), his body once again giving way under accumulated strain. The room is no longer merely where exhaustion manifests; it is where it becomes undeniable. In episode 61, the association shifts again: Joo Jaekyung comes to the room seeking sex, but Kim Dan is unwell, unable to voice his own thoughts, unable to refuse. (chapter 61) Illness interrupts desire, and the room marks the moment where agency falters.

The most alarming incident occurs when Kim Dan sleepwalks and nearly falls from the railing (chapter 79). Once more, it is this room that frames the danger. (chapter 79) The body moves without consciousness, hovering at the edge between presence and disappearance. The room becomes a liminal space where life is not actively threatened by violence, but quietly endangered by exhaustion and dissociation (suicidal thoughts).

This accumulation reaches a turning point in episode 53, after Kim Dan leaves. Joo Jaekyung enters the now deserted room and finds the jacket left behind. (chapter 53) The object becomes a trace of absence, and the room transforms into a container of loss. Standing by the window, Joo Jaekyung is portrayed without eyes. (chapter 53) The visual choice is crucial: it does not indicate blindness in a literal sense, but an inability to see forward, to orient himself. He is present in the room, but detached from direction and purpose. This scene announces the falling apart of the athlete.

What follows does not mean that Joo Jaekyung begins to deteriorate inside this room. On the contrary. After Kim Dan’s departure, he avoids it. (chapter 55) The space is sealed off, preserved, treated almost as a forbidden zone. The cleaning staff is not allowed to enter. Nothing is moved, corrected, or neutralized. The room becomes a reliquary rather than a dwelling — a place frozen in the moment of loss. Joo Jaekyung does not confront what happened there; he keeps it intact, untouched, and therefore unresolved. At the same time, he imagines that avoiding that place will help him to forget doc Dan’s gaze and face.

Therefore it is logical that his collapse unfolds elsewhere. The displacement is visible. In episode 53, the jacket is thrown in the direction of the couch. (chapter 53) (chapter 53) In episode 54, wine bottles begin to accumulate beside the couch (chapter 54) in his own bedroom leaving a huge red wine stain on the carpet. (chapter 55) And in episode 90, the teddy bear now rests on the couch in Kim Dan’s room (chapter 90) — occupying the very place toward which the jacket once flew. Across these scenes, the hand and couch emerge as a recurring site of impact, exhaustion, and surrender. It is where bodies fall, where frustration lands, where the weight of what cannot be said is deposited. One detail caught my attention: because they are not sitting on the couch, the main leads are discussing together. They are able to face each other and as such to listen to each other. (chapter 90) Their respective position in this room reminded me of their previous arguments. (chapter 45) (chapter 51) (chapter 61) (chapter 64) Only when they would truly face each other, they would be more honest and expose their thoughts and emotions. As soon as there is a table, a bed or a couch, I detected some restrain and silence. In other words, the presence of the teddy bear and the couch in that scene explains why Kim Dan is silent and passive after their conversation. He is definitely remembering the day and conversation at the amusement park. (chapter 90) I am hoping that he finally talks about his past and childhood in the next chapter. But honestly, I am a little skeptical, as doc Dan has no idea how Joo Jaekyung suffered, while he was away (loss of money and contracts, members, reproaches from Potato and Park Namwook, the slap, no one showed a true concern for his well-being). They all expected him to return to his old self and become a champion again. He only learned recently that members had abandoned him. (chapter 88) On the other hand, it is about time that doc Dan becomes proactive so that they finally become a real team.

But let’s return our attention to the room. (chapter 90) The latter itself remains suspended, untrespassed. (chapter 55) But the logic it contains spreads. What cannot be processed there resurfaces around the couch: drinking replaces training; avoidance replaces discipline; headaches replace resolve. Insomnia leads to inertia and passivity. Joo Jaekyung does not resign, and he does not openly collapse. Yet something essential fractures. Here, the fighter remains active in form, but disengaged in spirit. His depression does not announce itself through breakdown, but through relocation — from the preserved space of loss to the furniture that absorbs its aftermath.It is a space where suffering does not explode but accumulates, where the narrative repeatedly returns to show that unwell-being is not an exception, but a condition that has been waiting to be acknowledged.

Within The Silent Friend in the Blue Light, this room becomes one of depression’s many disguises: familiar, enclosed, outwardly calm, yet saturated with vulnerability. It does not announce danger. It hosts it quietly.

The Hidden Mirror of Sacrifice

What emerges after this displacement is not merely grief, but inversion. Without naming it, the narrative stages a quiet exchange of positions. Joo Jaekyung begins to occupy the place Kim Dan once held — not in circumstance, but in moral posture. The champion who once advanced through force, certainty, and entitlement now adopts the logic of self-erasure (chapter 90) that defined the doctor’s earlier life.

For a long time, Kim Dan lived under the conviction that his presence imposed a burden. He apologized (chapter 79) for everything. He was to blame for everything. (chapter 37) He endured before being asked. He accepted harm as a condition of acceptance and staying. His silence was not passivity, but a learned ethics: if I ask for less, if I take up less space, if I disappear when necessary, others, in particular his grandmother, might be spared. (chapter 53) That posture did not originate with Joo Jaekyung. It preceded him. It was shaped by debt, obligation, omission, and by figures who decided on Kim Dan’s behalf what he could endure and what he deserved.

In episode 90, that posture reappears — but it is no longer Kim Dan’s. Joo Jaekyung does not lash out. (chapter 90) He does not argue. He does not demand. Instead, he blames himself for everything, thus he withdraws. He refuses to claim a right. He positions himself as the problem that must be removed so that something better might follow. (chapter 53) This is the same moral calculus Kim Dan once applied to himself: the belief that care becomes ethical only when it is accompanied by sacrifice, and that love, if it exists at all, must be proven through disappearance. The only difference is that he can not apologize as his existence has become the synonym of wrongdoing. Thus Kim Dan can not hear the distress from his “loved one”.

The mirroring is not obvious, because the bodies do not look alike. Kim Dan’s earlier suffering was visible: exhaustion, malnourishment, fainting, tears. Joo Jaekyung’s is not. He stopped crying a long time ago. (chapter 74) He remains upright. His posture holds. Yet, he is now voiceless exactly like the physical therapist in the past. From the outside, he still appears powerful, but the loss of cry or sound indicates loss of agency and choice. But structurally, the positions have reversed. The one who once endured now asserts authorship over his choices. (chapter 90) The one who once claimed authority now doubts his right to remain.

This inversion does not arise in a vacuum. It is prepared by encounters with figures who mistake projection for truth. Both Heesung (chapter 89) and the green-haired man (chapter 42) operate through the same mechanism: they reduce complexity into a single verdict. Like false mirrors, they collapse months into moments, gestures into essence, and relationships into accusations. They speak as if they own the truth — not because they see clearly, but because jealousy and greed demand certainty. Hence they are connected to the color green. Their words are not reflective (chapter 89); they are consumptive.

As I argued in my earlier essay on deceptive mirrors, the green-haired man is not a mirror at all, but a monster revealed by one. He does not reflect; he distorts. Kim Dan, by contrast, functions as the Ungaikyō — the mirror beyond the clouds — which does not invent monstrosity, but exposes it. In his presence, hidden motives surface: envy, entitlement, moral resentment. This is why certain figures cannot bear his gaze, and why others attempt to shatter the reflection by attacking the one who stands beside him.

This reversal also explains why Kim Dan cannot recognize what is happening. (chapter 90) He continues to address Joo Jaekyung as an athlete, a patient, a man who needs reassurance. He speaks clearly, claims responsibility, and insists on consent. He does everything that would have saved him in the past. But those words reach someone who is no longer negotiating endurance. Joo Jaekyung is not asking how to stay. He has already concluded that by keeping him by his side is wrong.

Here lies the fatal misalignment: because Joo Jaekyung possesses such a damaged self-image, he interprets his ability to expose corruption as proof that he belongs to it. He detects the hospital director’s moral rot instantly (chapter 90) — not because he shares it, but because the mirror he has become reveals it. Yet instead of recognizing this capacity as ethical clarity, he mistakes it for contamination. He equates himself with the very figures whose cruelty is laid bare in his presence. However, he is making a huge mistake, he is accepting this projection forgetting that he had it all wrong for one reason: (chapter 90) During their first meeting, the “hamster” had grabbed his “anaconda”. (chapter 1) Such a gesture could be interpreted as a seduction, and don’t forget that the previous physical therapist had rubbed him the wrong way: (chapter 1) Finally, observe that after this incident, Joo Jaekyung was looking at the embarrassed doc Dan (chapter 56) and thinking that they could have fun together in bed. (chapter 56) So doc Dan has his share of responsibility in the champion’s misjudgment.

In this sense, the mirror remains hidden because it reflects an earlier version of Kim Dan that the latter himself has begun to leave behind. That’s why he is looking at the teddy bear. (chapter 90) Earlier, in Paris, Kim Dan took its hand and squeezed it, drawing steadiness from what it represented rather than from struggle. (chapter 84) This gesture symbolized their reconciliation in the end, (chapter 84) the return of trust and faith in the “champion”. What Joo Jaekyung mirrors is not who the doctor is now, but who he once had to be in order to survive. The tragedy lies precisely there: the champion adopts a posture the doctor has already outgrown thanks to him.

And as with all mirrors in this story, the reflection is imperfect. Joo Jaekyung’s withdrawal is framed as ethics, not necessity. He believes he is restoring balance by removing himself. But this belief rests on the same flawed premise that once governed Kim Dan’s silence — that one person can decide alone what harm is, and who must vanish to prevent it. The mirror reveals continuity, not resolution.

What appears as role reversal is therefore also a warning. When responsibility becomes indistinguishable from self-removal, the structure of harm does not disappear; it simply changes hands.

The Inherited Horizon (Living for Others)

Joo Jaekyung’s collapse and resignation in episode 90 are not a new development. (chapter 90) It is the reactivation of an older logic — one learned long before Kim Dan entered his life. What surfaces that night is not a crisis born of romance, but the return of a childhood structure in which existence is justified only through sacrifice, and value is always deferred to someone else’s future.

From the beginning, Joo Jaekyung was never taught how to live for himself. Though he was initially encouraged to fight for himself (earning money) (chapter 72), the reality was that he longed for a home, which he came to associate with his mother. Thus over the phone, he promised to become strong (chapter 72) and earn a lot of money so that his mother could return home. As you can see, fighting was strongly intertwined with his mother and his longing for a family.

His entire horizon is shaped by adults who frame life as endurance in service of others. His father beats him and argues with him by asking for respect. (chapter 72), as if the boy’s role was to validate the father’s existence. Joo Jaewoong does not ask his son what he wants (chapter 73); he mocks his ambition (chapter 73) and reduces his dream to delusion. Yet even in conflict, Joo Jaekyung seeks recognition. (chapter 73) He does not reject his father’s gaze — he argues within it, hoping to prove him wrong through success. (chapter 73) As you can see, his life is always focused on the future, on one goal and as such one person: the mother, then the father.

Later, Hwang Byungchul reinforces the same structure. He offers MMA fighting not as a way to find joy or self-discovery, but as a means to “honor his mother’s sacrifice” (chapter 74) He warns against becoming like the father, to change for the sake of his own mother (chapter 74), not by encouraging freedom, but by replacing one obligation with another: win, endure, don’t disgrace the dead. Many years later, he encourages him to change his mind-set, because he could end up alone. (chapter 75) For the first time, it is no longer about winning or enduring. (chapter 75) However, observe how the main lead reacts to this well-meant advice: (chapter 75) He starts visualizing Doc Dan as his goal. It is once again focused on one person and future-oriented.

Striking is that the grandmother in Kim Dan’s life articulates the same ethic from another angle. Kim Dan stays for her sake. (chapter 65) He grows up too fast for her sake. (chapter 65) He suppresses desire, health, and rest for her sake. The moral lesson is identical: if your presence risks harm, reduce yourself; if your absence protects others, endure it.

This is the philosophy Joo Jaekyung inherits — and internalizes. This observation leads me to the following conclusion: the MMA fighters treats doc Dan the same way than doc Dan took care of Shin Okja. They both prioritize the well-being of a loved one over themselves. And could this happen? One might say that it is because of the grandmother’s request (chapter 65), because she did the same in the past with doc Dan: (chapter 53), but the truth is that this reversal of position started taking place, the moment the athlete paid the loan. It is no coincidence that the new contract is based on the debts. (Chapter 77) This means, the debts bring the terrible mind-set to the surface.

The night of episode 74 crystalizes this structure. Joo Jaekyung wins a title, believing victory might finally justify his sacrifices. Instead, he loses both parents at once: his father through death, his mother through abandonment. (chapter 74) The latter justifies her betrayal by saying that he is too late, as he is already too old. The promise that sustained him collapses. Winning no longer guarantees return. The future he fought for vanishes. And in the penthouse, we have the same thought again: (chapter 90)

Episode 90 repeats this pattern with devastating precision. Once again, Joo Jaekyung believes that his presence is harmful. Once again, he concludes that removal is ethical. Once again, he lives for someone else’s sake — this time Kim Dan’s. He withdraws not out of desire, but out of obligation. He does not ask what doc Dan wants; he questions himself whether he has the right to keep him by his side. But the gesture represents the answer: He has no right to hope that doc Dan will still live by his side.

Crucially, this is not about winning anymore. The logic of victory has already collapsed. Joo Jaekyung no longer believes that success can restore what was lost. He has internalized the jinx not as misfortune, but as identity. In his mind, Kim Dan has every reason to leave — not because Joo Jaekyung failed, but because he is the failure.

This is why episode 90 does not mirror Kim Dan’s past alone. It repeats Joo Jaekyung’s own childhood logic.

  • In episode 73, he claims to fight in order to escape the house.
  • In episode 74, he learns that victory costs him everything.
  • In episode 90, he stops fighting — because fighting no longer promises return.

The core belief remains unchanged: if you cannot guarantee a good outcome, remove yourself. The hand gesture symbolizes the loss of hope in the end. (chapter 90)

That belief once governed Kim Dan’s life. Now, it governs Joo Jaekyung’s. The tragedy is not that he lets go — but that he does so for the same reason he once fought: not for himself, but to justify his existence through sacrifice. He has never been taught another way to live. Heesung’s words poison him precisely because they echo this logic, arriving at the moment when he had just begun to enjoy life with Kim Dan.

The Silent Friend

At first glance, one might search for the silent friend in the room itself — perhaps in the teddy bear, quietly placed on the sofa where the jacket almost once landed. (chapter 90) The object evokes childhood, comfort, and a softened version of intimacy. It almost invites the idea that this silent presence could be something benign: a substitute for words, a witness that does not judge.

However, with silent friend I am referring to something else. It did not appear in episode 90. It has been there all along. Long before Kim Dan entered his life, Joo Jaekyung was already living with an unnamed mental burden — one he never recognized as such.

It is guilt and self-loathing (chapter 54) — longstanding, cumulative, and corrosive. (chapter 90) And these two “friends” return during that night. What inhabits the room in episode 90 is not nostalgia, nor an unprocessed sadness that merely needs to be named. The same shame that has structured his life since childhood resurfaces here, stripped of all justifications. Joo Jaekyung is not suffering because he feels abandoned in the present. He is suffering because he believes himself to be the reason others leave. (chapter 90) This conviction predates Kim Dan. It is rooted in the unresolved grief surrounding his father’s death, the mother’s disappearance, and the belief that he arrived too late — that he failed at the very moment success was supposed to redeem everything. That night taught him a lesson he never unlearned: love is fragile, and your existence may be what destroys it. So the childhood traumas led him to develop depression, the silent friend.

The clearest indication is his own confession in episode 29. (chapter 29) He cannot sleep. He cannot relax. His body remains permanently alert because, in his words, he could “be killed” at any moment. (chapter 29) For him, this is not a symptom. It is simply part of being a fighter. Insomnia is normalized, rationalized, and dismissed as a professional hazard. Yet his listener immediately senses otherwise.

Kim Dan does not react with admiration or resignation. He worries. He asks himself how he could help. (chapter 29) He understands that this state is unsustainable — that it is only a matter of time before something gives way. What Joo Jaekyung treats as discipline, Kim Dan recognizes as danger.

This asymmetry matters. It reveals something essential: the champion cannot perceive his own depression, while the doctor can perceive it in others. That is precisely why Kim Dan becomes its mirror.

When Kim Dan later decides to leave, the gesture reads as abandonment — even betrayal. But the motivation is the opposite. Blinded by his own low self-esteem, he believes he has failed as a physical therapist. He takes Joo Jaekyung’s harsh words literally and imagines that if he removes himself, the athlete will remain strong. The last memory he carries with him is not intimacy, but rejection. (chapter 53) In his mind, he is obeying a command.

And yet, Kim Dan never truly leaves. He remains present through memory. The abandoned jacket in episode 53 is not a simple object. It becomes the first catalyst. Joo Jaekyung interprets it as rejection, as loss of status — no longer a fan, no longer part of his team. He throws it away in anger. (chapter 53) Read superficially, this looks like karmic reversal for his cruelty on his birthday. (chapter 90) But that explanation is insufficient. What actually begins after is grief and recognition.

The memories associated with Kim Dan do not punish Joo Jaekyung — they unsettle him. They force him to confront something he has never allowed himself to name: that he is unhappy, unmoored, and profoundly insecure. He has never been at peace with himself. He has never known how to live outside of obligation and performance. This is why he has never truly lived.

This is where my earlier interpretation deepens rather than changes. After season one, the “hamster” functioned as a personification of the champion’s jinx. (chapter 54) Now the logic sharpens: Kim Dan does not merely embody bad luck. He embodies the champion’s mental state — depression, trauma, and chronic self-devaluation. He becomes the surface onto which Joo Jaekyung’s inner instability is projected.

This insight is inseparable from depressive realism.

What struck me when I first encountered this concept was how closely it resembled the main leads’ thinking. The absence of “pink-tinted glasses,” the accurate — sometimes brutally accurate — assessment of control, responsibility, and limitation. Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung does not exaggerate hope. He minimizes it. And paradoxically, this allows Joo Jaekyung to justify not changing. His arguments in episode 29 are coherent, logical, and devastatingly persuasive. Kim Dan ends up convinced that the champion should not rest, should not slow down, should not alter course. (chapter 29) And now, in episode 90, Jinx-philes can sense that the athlete is wearing the glasses “depressive realism” once again, where everything seems so true. He recalls all his misdeeds and can only perceive himself as the source of unhappiness for doc Dan. And like mentioned above, during that night, he is just only recalling his wrongdoings. He is overlooking that thanks to him, Doc Dan’s mental and physical conditions (chapter 89) improved, that he could make doc Dan smile. Meeting the hospital director made him see everything in a bad light. As you can see, he still has a black and white mentality. However, the truth is that right from the start, the champion had not just been a terrible person. He could be generous, help someone in need. (chapter 17) He saved doc Dan’s life twice. (chapter 59) He is reducing everything to one single moment and emotion: pain. And his reasoning is resembling a lot to the grandmother‘s: (chapter 65) The only difference is that the grandmother doesn’t express guilt or responsibility for doc Dan’s suffering. For her, it is fate, as she is not responsible for the doctor’s childhood. (chapter 65)

Depression thus becomes mutually reinforcing — invisible to the one who carries it, hyper-visible to the one who mirrors it.

This is why the chapter numbers ending in 9 matter.

  • 19 introduces absence and the first rupture linked to family and death. (chapter 19) This image announces the vanishing of the parents.
  • 29 stages bodily collapse and unrecognized danger.
  • 59 flirts with disappearance through dissociation. Back then, the puppy died leading doc Dan to walk into the ocean.
  • 69 , when Joo Jaekyung imagines that doc Dan has once again fallen into the ocean and fears to lose him.
  • 79 when Joo Jaekyung stops him from falling. (chapter 79) gestures toward falling, both physically and psychologically.

None of these chapters announce suicide. But all of them circle it. They trace the gravitational field of depression — the slow erosion of self-preservation, the normalization of exhaustion, the quiet flirtation with vanishing. However, observe that in episode 89, the notion “suicide” is brought up for the first time by Choi Heesung. (chapter 89) Secondly, he is the only one referring to mental illness: (chapter 89): crazy, egomaniac. As you can see, the last arc linked to the number 9 seems to be focusing on depression and mental issues. Joo Jaekyung’s mental state as an athlete was never treated so far by doctors. And now, you understand my interpretation. The celebrity is now placed in the same situation than the physical therapist for another reason: it is to confront both men with their self-loathing and childhood traumas.

Episode 54 ( 54 = 5+4= 9) is the pivotal transfer point. It is the moment when Jinx-philes are confronted with reality, his mental issues and their origins. No wonder, why he started drinking. (chapter 54)

The dream seals this logic. Joo Jaekyung does not dream himself crying. He dreams Kim Dan crying. (chapter 54) The image functions as guilt, interrogation, and reflection all at once. It asks: Is he still suffering because of me? But the champion chose back then to read it differently: I am in pain because of you. Thus he tried to find a new “toy” shortly after. But it also reveals something more disturbing: those tears are the champion’s own. He feels them — but cannot express them.

He cannot cry because vulnerability still reads as danger. This is why episode 90 is so alarming.

The silent friend — depression, guilt, self-loathing — no longer needs a proxy. Joo Jaekyung internalizes it fully. He no longer misrecognizes it as insomnia or discipline. He recognizes himself as the problem. The jinx is no longer something that follows him. It is something he has become. But in order to be freed from this immense weight, he needs the support of a friend and a family.

And this is where the unspoken risk emerges. So far, Joo Jaekyung has never spoken about Kim Dan’s suicidal episodes. He has never named them. (chapter 78) Now, he is blaming himself for everything — and the narrative quietly aligns him with the same numbers, the same silences, the same logic of disappearance.

This does not mean he is suicidal. But it means the silent friend has returned — no longer mirrored, no longer shared, no longer displaced. And now, look at his eyes once again, (chapter 90) you will notice the redness, a sign that until that night, he is still suffering from insomnia. His insomnia and depression were never treated, and he took care of doc Dan all this time. He never rested properly, especially that there is another match around the corner.

And this belief — more than sadness, more than despair — is what makes episode 90 so dangerous. It marks the point where suffering no longer seeks relief, and responsibility turns inward, demanding disappearance as proof of care. But someone needs to notice how fragile Joo Jaekyung is. But why did the author choose to switch the character’s positions? Doc Dan assumes that during his absence, nothing changed in the athlete’s life. But the reality is that Joo Jaekyung lost contracts (chapter 54), while he tells the opposite to his partner. (chapter 80) Secondly, he doesn’t know how the champion was blamed for everything and was treated by the other members of Team Black: (chapter 52) No one listened to his unwell-being, they rather silenced him. They showed no support and didn’t take care of him. Thus later the athlete started drinking. The physical therapist has no idea what Potato heard either: (chapter 52) At the same time, I am suspecting that Mingwa is putting doc Dan in a similar situation than in the past, so that repressed memories about the parents will come to the surface. Keep in mind that the athlete is actually mirroring the parents’ behavior (abandonment and sacrifice as a sign of love and respect). Thus the teddy bear is placed on the couch and the physical therapist is looking at it. (chapter 21) A teddy bear was present in his childhood, until it vanished. (chapter 19) Let’s not forget that in episode 90, money plays a huge role and so far, the champion still thinks, the debts truly belong to the physical therapist. Finally, I believe that both could connect emotionally, when they talk about their respective past. In my eyes, it is now Doc Dan’s turn to assist Joo Jaekyung… by offering his hand as a friend. (chapter 87)

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Jinx: The Beginning 🧶 of the End ⛓️‍💥❄️

Sorry for the delay, but I am getting surged soon, thus I was busy preparing lessons for the time during my absence.

The Beginning of the End

The audience sensed it before it could fully articulate why: Jinx is nearing an irreversible threshold. Not an ending yet, not a climax in the conventional sense, but a point beyond which the story cannot return to its original configuration. (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.

What makes this episode feel decisive is not merely a rearrangement of power, but the return of elements that were present from the very first chapter —elements whose meanings were never in doubt, yet whose consequences were never allowed to surface. (chapter 1) At the start of Jinx, the readers were not ignorant. We knew that Kim Dan had been sexually harassed. (chapter 1) We knew there was a witness. We knew that what happened was not ambiguous in moral terms.

What was ambiguous was power.

A hospital director fired Kim Dan not because the truth was unclear, but precisely because it was clear—and dangerous. Using institutional authority, he covered the scandal, protected himself, and quietly ensured that Kim Dan would never be able to work as physical therapist and even speak again. (chapter 1) The outcome was not accidental, but Kim Dan didn’t experience it as a calculated purge or a conspiracy that must be fought. He accepted the loss of his job almost as a given, even as he recognized the injustice of it. What unsettled him was not the fear that others would disbelieve him, but the realization that responsibility stopped with him. He lost a prestigious hospital position and the professional future attached to it, while the hospital director faced no consequence at all. Kim Dan did not protest or seek redress; instead, he turned his attention inward, wondering what was said about him afterward, in rooms or institutes he was not allowed to enter. The truth was known, yet it changed nothing, because Kim Dan was silenced. No one listened to him or defended him, while the perpetrator alone was given the authority to determine the truth. The witness stayed silent, the institution spoke elsewhere, and Kim Dan was removed from his own story. And that’s how the asymmetry became something he quietly carried as his own burden.

This is why Episode 89 does not feel like escalation—it feels like unsealing.

The return of the perverted hospital director (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.

This return is mirrored by another, quieter but equally significant absence: the grandmother.

In Episode 89, she is no longer shown directly. (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.

This, too, echoes the beginning of Jinx. (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.

Now the movement reverses. Presence recedes back into absence. But unlike in the beginning, Kim Dan’s life is no longer centered on her care. That responsibility has been entrusted elsewhere, and her absence no longer governs his choices. In Episode 89, the hospice is no longer framed as a home, but as a stop along the way. (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)

This mirroring is not cosmetic. It is structural. The story returns to the conditions of its origin—sexual violence handled institutionally, professional precarity (chapter 1), unseen decisions made about Kim Dan without his consent (chapter 1) — but it does so in a transformed landscape. (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)

That is why Episode 89 feels like the beginning of the end. Not because everything is resolved, but because the story has reached the point where truth no longer needs to beg for permission to exist. What was once survivable only through silence can now be named, contested, and reclaimed.

By folding the opening of Jinx back into its present, the author signals that the love story between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung is approaching its final test. No longer a story of endurance under constraint, it is becoming a story about emancipation under scrutiny—about what happens when love, guilt, responsibility, and institutional memory are finally forced into the same frame, by those who were once excluded from it.

The Beginning of the End is not an announcement of tragedy. It is the moment when the story turns back on itself and says: now the truth can move.

Seeing Is Not Knowing

Episode 89 does not introduce this logic; it exposes it by repetition. From the very first chapter, Joo Jaekyung’s relationship with his former physical therapist already functioned as a negative prefiguration of Kim Dan’s own trajectory. (chapter 1) The readers never saw what caused the unknown therapist’s departure. Instead, the incident is relayed second-hand, through Park Namwook’s narration—an account that reduces the event to temperament, friction, and inevitability. The physical therapist is said to have “rubbed him the wrong way.” An incident occurred and the athlete was exposed as the problem. The job was framed as undesirable. The departure was normalized.

Crucially, Joo Jaekyung accepted this explanation without investigation. He was surprised that the therapist quit (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.

Crucially, the manager also treated resignation as resolution. Once the physical therapist left, the problem appeared solved. Replacement substituted for accountability, and the consequences of this closure were never considered. The difficulty in filling the position (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.

Like Kim Dan after him, Joo Jaekyung is first not confronted with accusations (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 52) It shows that like doc Dan, the celebrity bears the effects of a narrative he did not author, one that no longer requires verification and questioning because it has already been administratively settled.

Episode 89 reactivates this same structure—but from another angle.

Heesung believes he knows the truth because he has seen something. (chapter 89) He witnessed a kiss between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung, and from that single image, he constructs a complete narrative: a kiss is turned into something raw and sexual. For him, intimacy replaces training, desire replaces discipline, and the explanation Kim Dan gives becomes, in his eyes, a lie. (chapter 89)

Yet this is where the episode quietly undermines Heesung’s certainty. Kim Dan is not just fabricating an alibi. He is not inventing a cover story. They were indeed training. (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 89) To know the “whole truth” would require access not only to events, but to intentions, emotional thresholds, and timing—access no single witness ever has. Only gods have such power.

And that’s how Choi Heesung views himself. He considers himself as the “perfect lover”, thus his dream has always been to find his soulmate, another “perfect lover”. (chapter 33) That’s the reason why he was attracted to Kim Dan in the first place. He is an angel (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.

But the reality is that the “fox” is overestimating himself. He is just a human like Joo Jaekyung and as such a sinner. The actor’s error is not merely that he lies, but that he lies by omission (chapter 89) and generalization. Because he saw one thing, he believes he knows everything. Because he believes he already knows Joo Jaekyung —his temper, his reputation, his past, his belief (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.

This is precisely the same epistemic shortcut Park Namwook took in Season 1.

In both cases:

  • authority or proximity substitutes for inquiry,
  • a partial observation becomes a total explanation,
  • and investigation is deemed unnecessary because the observer believes he already understands the subject.
  • Crucially, judgment in these moments is driven not by facts, but by emotion. Resentment, jealousy, fear, and wounded pride shape perception long before evidence is considered. What presents itself as moral clarity is, in reality, affective certainty.

Yet justice—whether institutional or interpersonal—cannot emerge from emotion. It requires distance. It requires restraint. It requires a form of deliberate indifference: not apathy, but neutrality. The refusal to let feeling stand in for truth. Therefore a judge will always listen both sides (defendant, plaintiff). Neither Park Namwook (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.

This failure becomes especially visible in Heesung’s interpretation of Kim Dan’s departure. (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.

Heesung delivers this judgment (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 89) Smoke replaces oxygen. What should be a space for clarification becomes a polluted environment where nothing clean can circulate. His speech is not only corrosive; it is toxic, dispersing blame without responsibility and judgment without accountability.

This is not the violence of a raised fist, but of contamination. Heesung does not attack Joo Jaekyung directly; he saturates the space with inevitability. His words do not argue—they suffocate. By framing Jaekyung as fundamentally unlovable (“after everything you’ve done”), he does not describe a reality; he reinscribes a conviction that already haunts the champion: that love is structurally inaccessible to him, that intimacy is something he can only damage, never deserve.

In this sense, Heesung’s intervention is not corrective but punitive. It does not open a future; it seals one. The smoke signals this closure. There is no fresh air, no possibility of reconfiguration—only the quiet assertion that the past defines the present absolutely. And because Heesung speaks from a posture of apparent control, he mistakes pollution for moral clarity. He leaves believing he has spoken the truth, while what he has done is reinforce the most destructive lie Joo Jaekyung already believes about himself.

What Heesung never questions is whether this narrative is complete—or even accurate. He doesn’t know about the incident with the switched spray, about doc Dan’s mental and emotional suffering, he has no idea about doc Dan’s past as well. It was, as if the young man had no past or no trouble before his interaction with the sportsman. He does not ask why Kim Dan stayed as long as he did, why he returned, or how the relationship itself has transformed. He doesn’t look at the physical therapist at all, thus he can see no change. (chapter 89) The possibility that Kim Dan acted with agency, discernment, or desire is excluded in advance. Kim Dan is reduced to a fragile and innocent object of care rather than a subject capable of choice. He doesn’t know what is good for himself. (chapter 89)

What Jinx exposes here is not dishonesty, but epistemic arrogance: the conviction that seeing grants mastery over meaning.

The irony, of course, is that Joo Jaekyung once occupied this very position. (chapter 1) He accepted Park Namwook’s account of the former physical therapist because it aligned with what he believed he knew about himself and others. Now, in Episode 89, he becomes the object of the same logic—reduced, explained, and judged by someone who believes that proximity equals comprehension. This repetition matters.

It shows that truth in Jinx is never neutral. It is filtered through:

  • authority (Park Namwook),
  • jealousy and wounded pride (Heesung),
  • reputation and past violence (Joo Jaekyung),
  • and self-effacing silence (Kim Dan).

To know the full truth is impossible—not because the truth is unknowable, but because every character approaches it already shaped by prior experience. What changes in Episode 89 is not the existence of bias, but the story’s willingness to expose it as bias.

Heesung believes he knows the truth because he has seen something. A kiss. A single image, isolated from its sequence, elevated into certainty. From that moment on, everything else becomes irrelevant. And because he saw this before (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)

Heesung presents himself as morally superior because he does not resort to physical violence. (chapter 89) But this distinction is hollow. Harm does not require raised fists. It can be inflicted through trick, insinuation, through speaking about someone rather than to them, through occupying the role of moral arbiter while denying the other person a voice. (chapter 89) Kim Dan has always disliked this — being spoken for, spoken over, spoken around. Episode 1 and 57 established this clearly. Episode 89 simply mirrors it back.

What makes Heesung especially dangerous is that he uses Kim Dan as a shield. He claims to defend him, but only in his absence. By positioning himself as Kim Dan’s advocate, he grants himself authority while quietly stripping Kim Dan of agency. His concern is not what Kim Dan wants, but what Heesung believes Kim Dan deserves. In doing so, he protects his own wounded pride — the pride of someone who cannot accept that Kim Dan rejected him.

This refusal is key. Heesung cannot bear the idea that Kim Dan would choose Joo Jaekyung, even date him. (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).

And this is where the contrast becomes stark. Heesung, who performs moral responsibility, is not dating Potato openly. He keeps relationships provisional, deniable, suspended in ambiguity. He treats the young fighter more like a puppy or servant than as an equal partner. Joo Jaekyung, who is accused of being reckless and violent, does the opposite. He assumes responsibility. He spends time with doc Dan by teaching him swimming and fighting, he pays debts. He limits contracts. He buys a suit not for himself, but for Kim Dan’s future. He does not erase the past; he integrates it into a shared trajectory.

In this sense, Heesung is not the opposite of institutional power — he is its echo. He speaks confidently, withdraws responsibility, and leaves consequences to others. He does not strike, but he silences. He does not coerce, but he defines reality from a position Kim Dan never consented to.

The tragedy is not that Heesung lies consciously. It is that he is convinced he is telling the truth.

Not Seeing but Knowing

Episode 89 ends not with confrontation, but with a visual verdict. (chapter 89)

At one table sits the former hospital director. His presence is quiet, restrained, and deeply uncomfortable. Nothing about him suggests ease. His coat remains on, his tie loosened but not removed — a body prepared to leave rather than settle. He did not come to linger. He did not come to enjoy himself. His posture signals transience, not belonging.

The drink in front of him reinforces this distance. Whisky on the rocks is not a drink of sharing or unfolding; it is a drink of insulation. Cold, undiluted, contained. It is consumed alone, meant to harden rather than open. Even when accompanied, the director remains isolated. The person across from him seems to be talking to him (chapter 89), yet the antagonist does not engage him. Conversation fails to circulate. Responsibility, like dialogue, stops at the rim of the glass.

This matters because the director is not merely observing Kim Dan — he is being corrected by him.

For a long time, the director believed he knew how Kim Dan’s story had ended. Fired, blacklisted, erased — a life quietly ruined by institutional power. That belief allowed him to move on without consequence. Silence had done its work. The trick had succeeded.

What sustained this belief was secrecy. Not ignorance, but managed invisibility. Power, in Jinx, does not primarily operate through open coercion, but through control of circulation (chapter 48): who is seen, who is spoken about, and who is allowed to speak at all. By removing Kim Dan from institutional spaces and ensuring that the story of his dismissal was settled elsewhere, the director did not merely punish him — he rendered him socially invisible. Thus no one knew about doc Dan, when the athlete looked for him. (chapter 56) As long as Kim Dan remained unseen, power could continue to “know” without ever needing to verify.

The episode makes this collapse of power visible through contrast, not moral correction. In the flashbacks, the hospital director appears with controlled dominance (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 1)

This is not the memory of a man who feared consequences. It is the memory of someone operating comfortably inside a system designed to protect him. (chapter 89) His confidence is instrumental, not emotional: the calm of someone who knows where authority lies and how silence will function afterward. The grayscale of the flashback does not condemn him; it preserves his former certainty. In memory, he is still the predator—not because he is crueler there, but because the environment still belongs to him: the hospital.

What has changed in Episode 89 is not his nature, but the terrain. (chapter 89)

In the restaurant, his stare freezes (chapter 1) not because he feels guilt, but because his old script no longer applies. He is no longer positioned above Kim Dan—neither institutionally, socially, nor visually. He cannot initiate contact without exposing himself. He is no longer buffered by uniforms, corridors, professional hierarchies, or closed rooms where truth can be settled elsewhere. The architecture that once enabled him—white coats, administrative silence, procedural opacity—is gone. And he can not confide to his colleague either, hence he keeps starring the main couple. (chapter 89)

Predators rely on asymmetry and enclosure. Here, both have dissolved. This is why his reaction is not anger. Anger presumes leverage. What we see instead is hesitation: the moment a predator realizes the habitat that sustained him no longer exists. His disorientation is not ethical; it is strategic. He is recalculating risk. There is no redemption here, no moral awakening. He does not look ashamed. He looks uncertain—stripped of guarantees, not conscience. (chapter 89)

This makes the contrast with Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung even sharper. Their interaction is openly intimate, casual, and socially legible. (chapter 89) They do not require shadows, isolation, or ambiguity to touch. Their closeness does not depend on secrecy or hierarchy. Where the director’s former power depended on institutional opacity, hierarchical distance, and Kim Dan’s vulnerability, Joo Jaekyung’s present intimacy depends on none of these. And no one seems to pay attention to the “main couple” at all. (chapter 89)

That is the true reversal the episode stages. Power has not disappeared; it has migrated. The table of the hamster and wolf is placed higher than the one where the perverted director is seated. (chapter 89) It no longer operates through enclosure and silence, but through visibility and mutual presence. What once required corridors and closed doors now unfolds in the open air of a shared table. And this, finally, is what the director is forced to see. (chapter 89)

What unsettles the director is not confrontation, but visibility: the realization that secrecy can no longer protect the knowledge he once mistook for truth. His wrongdoing can now get exposed, for doc Dan is now standing close to the “spotlight”. Joo Jaekyung is not just a face, but also a voice. Thus the latter could sue a hospital. (chapter 42) This raises the following question: was the wolf suing the hospital where doc Dan got his first “gig”,?

What the nameless director sees now contradicts that certainty. (chapter 89) Kim Dan is not diminished. He is not withdrawn, anxious, or broken. He is smiling. Relaxed. Present. He laughs. He blushes. His body no longer carries the posture of someone living under constant threat. And he is not alone. He is sitting with a famous athlete — not as an accessory or subordinate, but as an equal. But more importantly, he is not pushing away the gentle gesture from the famous MMA fighter, while the “old creep” couldn’t forget doc Dan’s rejection. (chapter 89)

This is the shock. (chapter 89)

The director did not anticipate survival. He did not imagine joy. He certainly did not expect visibility.

Across the restaurant, a different table breathes. (chapter 89)

Kim Dan has removed his jacket. His body is at ease in the space. He is not preparing to leave; he is inhabiting the moment. The drink shared here — red wine — is not incidental. (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.

Where the director’s table is suspended in cold certainty, Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung’s table exists in a shared present. Air moves. Attention moves. When Joo Jaekyung looks at Kim Dan, he does not define him or speak for him. He responds to him. Kim Dan is not summarized. He is addressed. And observe that doc Dan is gradually imposing himself as the senior. He is now the athlete’s hyung. (chapter 89)

The contrast is not moralistic. It is structural.

The director represents a mode of power that knows without seeing. He once decided truth behind closed doors, believing outcomes were sufficient proof. Even now, his presence is shaped by that same logic: observe without engaging, remember without reckoning, drink without sharing. The irony is that he is exactly like Heesung. He thinks, what he sees is the truth. He believes to know. Because he is a hidden homosexual, he can only interpret such a gesture as the expression of love, (chapter 89) but also as commitment. In his eyes, they are dating, they are a couple. The irony is that he is only partially correct. They are not an official couple, but they act like one. Moreover, they are working together. So they are more than just a couple. Finally, this happy moment doesn’t indicate what doc Dan went through in the past, the switched spray, the drugged beverage and a huge depression.

Joo Jaekyung represents something else entirely. Not innocence, not purity, but responsibility. He does not deny the past; he incorporates it. He does not insulate himself from consequence; he assumes it. The space he shares with Kim Dan is not free of history, but it is no longer governed by silence. In fact, now their “history” is full of funny stories. (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)

This is why Episode 89 feels decisive without resolving anything.

The director’s return does not promise immediate punishment or exposure. It signals displacement. The world he once controlled through erasure no longer centers him. The person he believed he had reduced to nothing is not only alive, but visible — and no longer alone. He is even happy.

Power that relied on not seeing has lost its authority. What replaces it is not revenge, but relation.

And this is what marks The Beginning of the End, the final emancipation of Doc Dan. The latter does not arrive through confrontation or declaration, but through legibility. In the fitting room, the suit is not a costume of aspiration or disguise; it is a confirmation that he can now be seen without being reduced. He looks back, not down. He asks, (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); here, the suit becomes a sign of re-entry without erasure. (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.

Not because justice has been delivered, but because those who once “knew” without seeing are finally forced to see—
and discover that their knowledge and power were never secure, only temporarily protected by illusion.

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or Manhwa, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Twitter-Tumblr account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Painter Of The Night: Juicy Deeds🤝 and Dry Words 🗯

Please support the authors by reading the manhwas on the official websites. This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night

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I am quite certain that people are wondering about the connection between the title and the illustration. In the latter, we have Baek Na-Kyum’s hand holding Yoon Seungho‘s. Yet there is neither word nor sex in the panel, for both are still dressed and there is no speech bubble. Yes, when people read juicy deeds, they were already imagining that I would describe a love session like this one (chapter 96), because of the expression „to do the deed“: (chapter 87) However, the deed is not just related to intercourse, like the manhwaphiles could discover it in chapter 51. With „deed“, Deok-Jae was referring to murder and assassination. As you can see, deed has other meanings than sex. Thus it has for synonyms action, accomplishment and reality!! So when I selected this name for the essay, I was thinking of the relationship between action and word. And this connection came to my mind, when Byeonduck released the last picture, because the painter’s action symbolizes a conversation and as such words.

1. Interpretation of the newest release

As my avid readers already know, it is already possible to understand the symbolism behind this picture by contrasting it to similar gestures. Because the painter‘s hand is above the noble‘s hand, I deduce that the artist was the one initiating the touch. Note that he is intertwining his fingers with Yoon Seungho‘s indicating that he is seeking closeness and intimacy. This detail is important, for the hand is conveying a message: „I feel you. I understand you. I am by your side.“ How do I know this? It is because this gesture corresponds to this one from chapter 88:

1. 1. Reflection from chapter 88

(Chapter 88) By reaching his hand, the painter was letting him know that he was no longer alone in this world. He was not only joining his side, but he was willing to try to understand the main lead. (Chapter 88) This gesture stands in opposition to the situation with Yoon Chang-Hyeon. (Chapter 86) During that fateful night, the father neither talked to his son nor looked at him. He even turned his back to him, when the young master attempted to grab his father‘s hanbok. Both scenes from chapter 88 and 86 have two common denominators: an action accompanied with silence!! Yet, what distinguishes them from each other is the nature of the deed, the action. Alliance and empathy versus abandonment and estrangement! This is no coincidence that after reaching his hand, Baek Na-Kyum started confessing his thoughts and emotions to his lover: (Chapter 88) As you can sense, the hand gesture delivered a message, but the painter still felt the need to clarify the meaning of his hand. He was willing to remain by his side, but he was still afraid of him. He didn’t want to create a misunderstanding, like for example that he wouldn’t argue with him or that his loyalty was now unconditional or total. That way, Yoon Seungho wouldn’t come to view him as a hypocrite or as dishonest, if an argument would appear. Thus he needed words to explain his position. He would remain by his side and attempt to sympathize with him, but he still felt insecure and had doubts. In other words, his action (his hand gesture) was not truly reflecting his mind and heart. (Chapter 88) Hence we could say that there was still a gap between the gesture and the words. He was willing to trust him and to be loyal to him, but not all the doubts had vanished. That’s the reason why the lord hesitated before hugging him. (Chapter 88) Later he even asked his lover not to leave his side no matter what. (Chapter 88) To conclude, the hand gesture in episode 88 was connected to insecurities and as such fear, yet the painter had shown no hesitation to take his hand. The anxiety was not visible.

1. 2. The hand and anxiety

Striking is that when the painter had reached Yoon Seungho’s hand for the first time, his hand was trembling. He was so scared of the main lead that he didn’t dare to take his whole hand. (Chapter 30) His fingers barely grabbed his hand, so when he made the following vow, he was not entirely sincere or better said, truly determined to keep his promise. (Chapter 30) The words were not truly in unison with the gesture either. Therefore he once tried to leave the mansion in season 2. When he pledged loyalty, his intention was to protect his teacher. To conclude, fear has always been present, when the painter took Yoon Seungho’s hand. Even in chapter 88, but contrary to the scene in the courtyard, his hand was not shaking. (Chapter 88) Why? It is because the origin of his fright was different. In the courtyard, he feared for his life and Jung In-Hun’s, whereas in the bedchamber, he was more afraid of the lord’s flashbacks and dissociative states. He had no idea why Yoon Seungho could change so much abruptly to the point that he would hurt himself, not just him. (Chapter 82) This explicates why the artist chose to remain by his side, though the lord had broken his promise. (Chapter 82) On the other hand, in this scene (chapter 82), the lord was grabbing his lover’s hand out of fear. He was recognizing his mistake and was trying to beg for his forgiveness, though he couldn’t express it directly. Striking is that during the lord’s flashback, his hand was trembling as well, grabbing onto his partner’s body. (Chapter 81) It was, as if Baek Na-Kyum was his rescue buoy, helping him not to be swallowed by the darkness. Thus I came to the conclusion that the protagonists’ hand gestures are all connected to anxiety and pain. 😲 Hence I am deducing that in this scene, Baek Na-Kyum is holding his lover’s hand, for he has already sensed the noble’s doubts and insecurities. He is there to comfort and reassure him. He won’t leave his side no matter what. Therefore I deduce that such a gesture can only encourage Yoon Seungho to open up and reveal his traumatic past. This is something that Baek Na-Kyum had always wished in season 3, nonetheless his wish never got granted.

1. 3. Reflection of chapters 97 and 98

And note that Baek Na-Kyum was unconscious, when Yoon Seungho had a flashback and was sent back to the past. (Chapter 102). This would have definitely scared Baek Na-Kyum, especially Yoon Seungho’s haunted gaze. On the other hand, since the painter had been himself the victim of physical and sexual abuse, the artist can only grasp why the noble reacted that way: fear, anger, despair and heartache. The artist had also been desperate, in pain and scared in the shrine, though this time, he had not screamed for his help. Since the lord had not returned to the mansion, how could he expect him to come to his rescue?

From my point of view, the lord has to explain the reason for his behavior from that night, he committed a massacre. Since the couple is in the bedchamber, I come to the conclusion that this image is linked to the painter‘s nightmare too. (Chapter 98) Back then, he had been waiting for his lover‘s return and explanations. He wanted to hear him and get his reassurance and comfort. . (Chapter 98) The latter couldn’t reassure the painter with his hand contrary to the previous night. (chapter 97) Exactly like mentioned above, the painter’s hand gesture is connected to fear and conversation. (chapter 97) Striking is that in the gibang, the lord confessed his biggest fear to his future “spouse”. He feared to lose him, though one of his biggest desires had been finally fulfilled. This means that Yoon Seungho felt even more insecure and frightened than before after receiving the artist’s love confession. That’s the reason why I believe that the new picture is standing in opposition to the scene in the gibang. The lord will feel relief after his admission. As a conclusion, the image is announcing the lord’s confession and the artist will listen to him without any judgement or fear. He will never reject him or call him crazy due to his past action.

1. 4. Reflection of chapter 89

What caught my attention is that the painter had touched the main lead’s hand in another occasion. (Chapter 89) While the painter was sitting on his partner’s lap (chapter 89), he was massaging the wounded fingers. It was, as if he was treating his companion’s wound. Note that after his terrible flashback, the painter had avoided to grab his hand out of fear that he might hurt Yoon Seungho even more. (Chapter 84) Therefore I conclude that the new panel is an allusion to treatment. While in episode 89, the painter was acting as a doctor, in the new image, the young man is working more like a counselor or psychologist. The aristocrat’s hand might not be wounded in that scene, but this is not the case for his heart and mind. So for me, this scene is connected to mental treatment. And by confessing his past, he will get liberated from his burden, released from that darkness. He will be able to finally see the light and to have hope again. As you can sense, I see a connection between episode 84 and this new panel. Note that during that day, the painter was also holding the noble’s hands, but here they were facing each other. (Chapter 84) However, the lord had refused to open up. This is no coincidence that the author had not created such a picture during that chapter. As the manhwalovers can detect, I believe that in that scene, Yoon Seungho will confess and reveal the source of his self-hatred and guilt. As a conclusion, though this image looks very romantic and beautiful, I think that it is accompanied with fear, guilt and agony. The readers could definitely come to cry while the lord’s revelation. Since the painter spoke in chapter 30, 84, 88 and 89, I am assuming that this time, he won’t talk much so that the lord can speak more freely.

But if the manhwaphiles compare all the mentioned scenes, they will realize that the hand gestures were strongly connected to promises or vows. It becomes even more obvious, when the artist criticized his lover for his bad behavior (chapter 82), caused by the panic attack. This is no coincidence that the painter employed the expression „empty words“. His action was not reflecting his words. Thus there exist the following quotes

  • “Actions speak louder than words“.
  • „Words are from the lips, actions are from the heart“: Rachida Costa.
  • „Well done is better than well said“: Benjamin Franklin.
  • The superior man acts before he speaks, and afterwards speaks according to his actions.” – Confucius

And that’s how I realized the importance of the link between action and words. The former is mirrored in the hand, while the words are connected to the tongue and mouth. Thus I come to the conclusion that when Baek Na-Kyum is holding his lover’s hand, he is no longer scared of Yoon Seungho. Therefore, I deduced that here it was not the case for the noble. Hence I believe that this gesture is to encourage Yoon Seungho to open up, to confess his doubts, guilt and pain. But by putting his hand over Yoon Seungho‘s, the artist is demonstrating that he is protecting him. He will listen to him and remain by his side and this no matter what. As you can sense, I am expecting a new version from that night (chapter 88), and this, although the lord is indeed a murderer. For Baek Na-Kyum, his gesture will have a different meaning: he saved his life and freed him from his torment. Secondly, if the lord reveals the circumstances of his mother’s death, the artist will definitely deny his responsibility in her death, a new version of this scene. (chapter 75) And because I detected a discrepancy between words and gestures, I recognized the presence of another trick from Byeonduck.✨

2. Passivity and silence

What caught my attention is that during the love session from chapter 91, the readers discovered the painter’s likes. While the lord said this to the painter: (chapter 91), the latter denied this with the following statement. (chapter 91) But when did the painter admit that he liked embracing him? In this panel! (chapter 88) That’s the reason why the lord got surprised and moved. As you can see, the author never revealed this whispering to the manhwalovers! The latter had the impression that the lord’s reaction was related to the loving embrace, but it was only partially correct.

This is important, because in this scene, the words were matching the action! That’s the reason why Yoon Seungho could finally accept it as a warm and sincere hug!! The painter was honest towards him. This scene contrasts so much to the love session at the physician’s, where the painter had hugged him, but had remained silent (chapter 62), when the lord had confessed to adore him. (chapter 62) This explicates why Yoon Seungho was so pained in season 2. He got embraced, but there were no words. Consequently, when the painter vanished during that night, the lord could only perceive the embrace as hypocrisy and fakeness. That’s how I realized that the story is developed on the contradiction between words and actions. But not only that, there exists a strong link between silence and passivity. Thus after the abduction in season 2, Baek Na-Kyum remained more or less silent (chapter 62), and as such he was totally passive. He never stood up and begged the lord for his leniency. He stayed there on the bed giving the impression that he was indifferent. That’s the reason why Yoon Seungho got more enraged, for he felt fooled. This means that the absence of words represent inaction… This explains why Yoon Seungho had to corner the main lead in chapter 48 (chapter 48) to say something, as he had sensed his passivity behind his „submissive attitude“. This is no coincidence that during this night, the painter felt extreme pleasure to the point that he peed. Therefore he could voice his wish to Yoon Seungho during the love session from season 2. (chapter 73) That’s how the lord concluded that the painter liked riding him, while in reality such a climax had appeared for the first time, when both were facing each other! (chapter 49)

And this leads me to the following observation. The protagonists were the targets of plots, because both of them had been silenced. By being voiceless, they had been turned into naïve puppets. Their silence corresponds to their passivity. This interpretation helps to understand why the artist was more active in season 1 (chapter 4) than season 2. He was encouraged by his future partner to speak up, yet the moment he got heartbroken, he was left speechless. And note that when the lord played his prank in the bedchamber, he never said anything to his father. (chapter 83) He didn’t move as well. Why? It is because he knew that talking to his father was pointless. However, Yoon Seungho had hoped that with his prank his father would finally see the truth. He had been fooled by Lee Jihwa and father Lee!! But the stupid father never realized it. As you can see, the lord had in that scene long given up to use words, he hoped that his father would see the truth with the prank. Don’t forget that deed stands for truth and reality. He thought that “actions would speak louder than words”, but he was proven wrong. This signifies that in this scene, (chapter 86) Yoon Seungho had acted the opposite, he had tried to speak up, but he had been muted. I am also thinking that the young master must have attempted to converse to his father (chapter 77) here as well, but the lord had not listened to him. Why? It is because Kim had said nothing!! (chapter 77) Silence was considered as an admission. This is no hazard that the butler didn’t take care of his young master. This scene symbolizes the quote “Actions speak louder than words” (chapter 77) The butler had betrayed the young master’s trust, for he had not intervened. He should have defended Yoon Seungho, but no in fact he had sided with the elder master Yoon once again. Not only he had not reminded Yoon Chang-Hyeon of his promise, but also he had assisted the ruthless father by giving himself the straw mat beating! (chapter 77) That’s the reason why the other servant looked down on Kim. Even after hurting his young master, he stayed paralyzed giving the impression that he felt nothing for Yoon Seungho! And this was actually true, for the valet felt more betrayed by the master’s attitude than pained due to the wounded noble. Like mentioned above, he could have refused to do it, but no! This is not surprising that the young master felt pained and angry. Striking is that in this scene, the main lead never said anything… a sign that he was already resigning to his fate! He was no longer resisting! And this leads me to the following conclusion. In season 3, Yoon Seungho was rather passive, hence he didn‘t voice the source of his suffering to Baek Na-Kyum!! However, he was not totally inactive, for he still opened up to the painter at the end of season 3. He was able to express his likes, dislikes and fears, hence Min’s first plot didn’t work out like expected!! And the return of his active attitude was already perceptible in the bureau of the authorities. (chapter 98) Here, he examined the robe and questioned the officer. The problem is that he was still relying on his staff and as such Kim. Therefore it is not surprising that he could still be manipulated by the schemers. Hence I am anticipating a total change in season 4. By conversing with the painter, the lord can only become more proactive to the point that he will be able to ruin the next schemes. I am even expecting a prank from the protagonists in season 4!! But this doesn’t end here. I am deducing that in the past, Yoon Seungho suffered because one tormentor would do things and say nothing, while the other would talk a lot, but act the opposite!! For me, these descriptions fit to Kim and the pedophile. I have the impression as well, that both characters came to switch their behavior. In one circle, Kim did many things, but remained mute, but later he did the exact opposite. I would like to point out that in season 3, he acted this way. He would promise loyalty to the lord, (chapter 77), but backstabbed him in the shadow. Besides, we shouldn’t forget that a narcissist’s words don’t match their action, because they are pathological liars. And so far, I had portrayed father Yoon (overt), Kim (covert) and even Jung In-Hun (overt) as people suffering from NPD. And I am assuming that the mysterious lord Song is not different from them, though I am suspecting that he must be a covert type.

And now, you are probably wondering why I added the adjectives “juicy” and “dry” to the title, while so far, my main focus was “action” through the hand gesture and words. The reason is simple. There exists an Arabian proverb: “A promise is a cloud, fulfilment is rain”. Since in this country, rain is rare, the saying is showing that people make promises easily (cloud), but they never keep their words, for it almost never rain. I found it interesting that it rained, when the butler and the father betrayed both the main lead. Their actions exposed their true colors. (chapter 77) Besides, it also snowed, when the painter got abducted twice, a sign that actually a promise had been broken.

3. Conclusions

Thanks to the lord’s actions (his obsession and love for the painter), Baek Na-Kyum could finally become owner of his own body and thoughts. That’s the reason why he could pee in the study, the bedchamber and the gibang and this without getting any reprimand, while the painter’s actions could bring the lord’s tears back! Their actions, the hand gestures and the embraces, became fruitful. This means that Yoon Seungho is finally possessing his own body and mind. This is no coincidence that he lowered himself, when he apologized to his lover. (chapter 102) He is no longer following social norms. This could only happen, because the lord had just committed a huge crime. What is the point to respect laws and tradition, when he became a murderer? Any other transgression can only appear as harmless. That’s the reason why I am expecting that Yoon Seungho decides to disregard social norms from that moment on and play a prank on the “villains” of this story.

Before closing this essay, I would like to mention other scenes, where the hand from the protagonists was connected to fear, confession, comfort and reassurance: (chapter 76) (chapter 53) (chapter 87), while the same extremity symbolizes the opposite with the villains and antagonists: violence, silence, submission (chapter 83), hatred and resent (chapter 97) Here, Heena was hurting her brother, because she wanted him to face “reality”. What caught my attention is that we never saw the father’s hand in chapter 86! (chapter 86) Why? It is because it reveals his powerlessness. And this leads me to the following conclusion: the deed stands for reality and honesty, while the words symbolize emptiness, illusion and deception. And now, you comprehend why this work is composed by the dichotomies: dream, words and mouth versus reality., action and the hand. This means that in season 4, the manhwaphiles should try to analyze the thoughts and emotions of the characters behind the hand gestures. At the same time, they can also verify if my interpretation is correct. Is the zoom of the protagonists’ hand connected to fear, confession, empathy and assistance?

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Tumblr-Twitter account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.

Painter Of The Night: Dogs🐕 don’t wear pants 👖

This is where you can read the manhwa. https://www.lezhinus.com/en/comic/painter But be aware that this manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. If you want to read more essays, here is the link to the table of contents:  https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/07/04/table-of-contents-painter-of-the-night/

It would be great if you could make some donations/sponsoring: Ko-fi.com/bebebisous33  That way, you can support me with “coffee” so that I have the energy to keep examining manhwas. Besides, I need to cover up the expenses for this blog.

The starting point of this analysis was this quote from Lee Jihwa. (chapter 12) The mention of a new toy implied the existence of an old plaything. But we know for sure that Yoon Seungho has never possessed anything. He was treated like a male kisaeng himself, for he was not allowed to refuse advances from anyone. (chapter 52) Finally, he was forced to share anything he owned to others. (chapter 52) That’s how I realized that the inner thought from Lee Jihwa was exposing his knowledge. The latter knew about Yoon Seungho’s true conditions. The latter had been treated like a plaything by the pedophile. As the red-haired noble had been raised as an filial son respecting elders, Lee Jihwa saw no reason to change the way Yoon Seungho was “trained”. (chapter 57) Besides, he could only benefit from it. Now, he could have sex to his heart content. He only started playing tricks, the moment he felt that his childhood friend was escaping from his claws.

On the other hand, the author recently explained on a live session that Yoon Seungho’s mother committed suicide, for her son was tormented. However, my problem is that I only heard about this through others. Some stans were saying that Yoon Seungho was getting abused, others would even say, he got tortured. So was it abuse or torture? There’s a slight difference between these two notions. For I was a little unsure about this, I preferred to leave it at “abuse”. But then I realized this. If he had been truly tortured, then he should have traces on his body, they used to break bones… so that they ended up crippled. The readers could witness the way the Joseon authorities tortured people in order to obtain confession. (Chapter 37) On the other hand, since the lord went to the authorities in season 3, I deduce that he must have gone there in the past too, yet not as a victim/plaintiff, but as an accused. Because of this new revelation, I made a new connection: sex and torture.

Striking is that in the father‘s eyes, he was not even a slave, he was like an animal. (Chapter 83) Why? He viewed him like a dog, for he was living in the shed. He even had no proper hanbok and no real hair dress, and the manhwaphiles can certainly remember the idiom: clothes make the man! If he was no man, then he was an animal, a dog. Even his food reminded me of dog food. But why was he living there? (Chapter 83) In this essay, I will answer to this question. As a first conclusion, the lord was not even treated like a male kisaeng in the past, but more like a dog. Consequently, I deduce that when Baek Na-Kyum met the lord in the inn (chapter 1), his status had already changed. He was slowly experiencing emancipation. He was living like a male kisaeng. Thus I conclude that Lee Jihwa contributed to his recovery to a certain extent. (chapter 59) However, don’t get me wrong. I believe that the change occurred thanks to Baek Na-Kyum’s intervention, the new version of this scene. (chapter 68) Their path crossed a second time in the gibang which led to the painter’s expulsion which affected the lord‘s living condition. But let’s return our attention to the lord’s long suffering.

In the past, while reading season 2, I started getting confused about the identity of the abuser. When in the shed (chapter 62) the lord turned into a shadow or ghost from the past, certain gestures were similar to the patriarch‘s. (chapter 57) (chapter 62) This explicates why after reading episode 62 for the first time, I had suspected the father to have raped his own son. Yet this thought was dropped shortly after. Then when episode 77 was released, I realized that in the shed the lord was also reminded of Kim’s betrayal, for the latter would always drag him to the shed. Observe the way he was “carried away“. It was like an “embrace“. (Chapter 77) In episode 77, the readers can witness 2 incidents how the lord was brought to the storage house. (Chapter 77, this is a different situation, for we have different servants except Kim) Therefore in the barn, Yoon Seungho behaved like his surrogate father Kim as well. This explicates why we have the fake embrace and the insincere apology. (chapter 62) (chapter 62) As you can see, the hug from the past was the symbol of violence and hypocrisy. It served to drag the lord to the storage room. And this new observation led me to the following conclusion: Yoon Seungho was copying the behavior from all his abusers from the past: his brutal father, the hypocrite butler and naturally the pedophile. (chapter 62) Hence the protagonist grabbed the painter by the hair. For me, the “mysterious lord Song“ used to hurt the main lead by the hair, when he got angry. How did I come to this interpretation? Note that at no moment we never saw Yoon Chang-Hyeon taking his son’s hair. First, the lord’s head was covered with a hat. (Chapter 57) Even in the bedchamber, he would either slap his son or grab him by the throat. (Chapter 83) (chapter 83) As for Kim, the latter would always restrain the main lead by the shoulders, the fake embrace. (Chapter 57) And now, you comprehend why the lord dragged the two nobles by the topknot. (chapter 8) For a long time, I have demonstrated that this gesture represented one of Yoon Seungho’s biggest traumas. But why would the pedophile do that? One might say that it is because of Yoon Seungho’s resistance and struggling. He needed to punish him for his disobedience. Note that the noble with the mole and Lee Jihwa got humiliated as sanctions. (Chapter 18) However, in my eyes there exists another explanation which I will elaborate in this analysis either. From my point of view, the shed and the humiliation are strongly intertwined. This was particularly visible, when the lord forced Baek Na-Kyum to have sex in the courtyard. (Chapter 64) But why would he do that in the end? It was to train him, to make him obedient. (Chapter 64) Remember how he had declared that the painter was now his sex toy. He should listen to his master or owner. That’s how I came to this deduction. The infamous lord Song is a sadomasochist. In the worse case, he is simply a pure sadist. I am inclined to believe more in the first view. With this, we would have the link between sex and torment. And the picture from the erotic book where you see the bearded man having a braided man on his lap outside indicates that Yoon Seungho was here getting punished. The pedophile loved seeing Yoon Seungho humiliated and in tears. (chapter 01) And now, we have the explanation why the lord could no longer cry and how he came to hate “fake apology”. This was the result of the exposure to the sexual assaults under the form of BDSM.

1. The true nature of BDSM

But what is BDSM exactly?

It’s an abbreviation for bondage, discipline (or domination), sadism (or submission), masochism: sexual activity that involves, for example, tying a partner up, games in which one partner controls another, or giving and receiving pain for pleasure quoted from https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/bdsm

This means that BDSM is a role play, where one acts as a dominant and the other as submissive. However, in order to become an act, there must exist consent and agreement. A contract is necessary, for the dominant has to ensure the submissive’s safety. He needs to know the limit between real and fake, and as such when the pain becomes too much to bear and is no longer a synonym for pleasure. The dominant needs to know boundaries. Thus the couple has to have a safety word. Once this word is said, the “punishment or humiliation“ has to stop. This truly shows that BDSM is strongly regulated. Therefore on different websites, you can see many recommendations. One stipulated 10 rules so that BDSM would be enjoyable for the couple: 1. be patient, 2. be humble, 3. be open, 4. be honest, 5. be realistic, 6. be sensitive, 7. be genuine, 8. be healthy, 9. Communicate, 10. have fun. (https://modemworld.me/ds-essays/the-ten-rules-of-ds/) Striking is that during their last love session, the couple was already following these principles, though there was no real punishment. Don’t forget that the painter had sex in front of people behind the doors. (chapter 96) They ended up in the hallway, anyone could see them. Then in another website, I found the following principles:

„What Daddy should do for his little Prince:

1. Help me brush my hair if you’re with me.

2. Help me pick out clothes and food.

3. Take bathies with me sometimes, and showers with me most of the time if you’re here.

4. Hold my hand as often as possible.

5. Call me my preferred words: little, sweetie, prince, puppy etc.

6. Give me treats when I’m good.

7. Punish me when I’m bad.

8. Praise me when I do good. No matter how small the good thing is.

11. Don’t make threats. Punish me if I’m bad, but don’t take things away or hurt me when you’re mad.

12. Never lose your temper because your day is going bad.

13. Always go to bed and get enough rest as much as possible.

16. If I’m sad I like hugs and kisses and pets and nice words.

17. Littles need to know they are loved.

18. Always be honest with me.

19. If I’m being a brat, I want attention.”

20. Don’t ever break promises, ever.” quoted from https://www.wattpad.com/amp/492636426

2. The real and fake sadomasochist

After reading the second list of rules, the manhwaphiles will realize two important aspects. First, the main lead was slowly developing a manual of BDSM without realizing it. Note that after the coerced sex in the pavilion, he desired to take care of the painter personally. He took the horse, and if he had not met the butler on his way to the pavilion, he would have done it himself. (chapter 25) He even brought the hanbok himself. (chapter 26) The lord went so far to take his bath with his lover to clean him. (chapter 59) He made sure that his partner wouldn’t suffer. (chapter 89) Yoon Seungho knew by experience that the rest of semen in the stomach would cause him ailing. (chapter 77) This was the reason why Yoon Seungho had a fever afterwards. Don’t forget that the pedophile used Taoist sexual practices, this means the young boy had a sex marathon each time, he met the pedophile. Thus I interpret the bruise on Yoon Seungho’s eye not only as an indication of resistance, but also as a source of joy for the sexual predator. We have the reaction from lord Jang as the perfect example. (Chapter 101) He blushed, though he could see that Baek Na-Kyum was in pain, the face covered with blood. Remember what the painter did in the pavilion to the main lead: he scratched his face. (Chapter 25) Thus we have to envision that the lord must have reacted the same way and wounded his abuser. And imagine the consequence if he had wounded the king on the face. This could be seen as a reason for a punishment. (Chapter 77) Remember Black Heart‘s warning in the shaman‘s house: (chapter 102)

Under this new light, the readers can comprehend what happened. Because he was the ruler, he expected acceptance. In addition, the king never took care of his “lover” properly, for in the palace, the staff was supposed to take care of everything for him: he would receive the assistance from maids and eunuchs in order to get dressed. This signifies, he must have had the same expectations in the Yoons’ mansion. He always relied on Yoon Chang-Hyeon and the so-called loyal valet. But the father could only resent his own son, for he rejected homosexuality, as it stands in opposition to lineage. As for the valet, the latter was too much plagued by his own guilt that he resented the nobles for his own wrongdoings. He never realized that he was abandoning the young master.

Yoon Seungho learned through the hard way to take care of himself. However, because the protagonist had been traumatized by the sexual fake lesson, I doubt that he could have an erection. Thus the valet went to the physician again in order to get replenishing medicine. (chapter 33) This is an euphemism for aphrodisiac. Thus we had this confession from the physician. (chapter 57) Why did the butler visit the doctor without Yoon Chang-Hyeon? It is because he had been ordered to fetch the aphrodisiac. By feeding him with the drug, they wanted to force Yoon Seungho to accept the advances from the king, and as such to admit his sexual orientation. He was a sodomite. (chapter 65) They faked his “pleasure“ making him feel guity and dirty. That’s how he got tricked. This explicates why the main lead still has no idea of the use of the aphrodisiac.

And now, you have the answer why the king failed to “tame” Yoon Seungho. He did the exact opposite what he should have done. He never followed such rules: respect, health, etc… Lord Song never became responsible for the young boy, thus he never confessed as well. He never apologized for his mistakes or his brutality. (chapter 71) As a king, he couldn’t bow down to a noble. Observe that the roles of “dominant” and “submissive” are not clearly defined between Yoon Seungho and Baek Na-Kyum. The lord is the dominant sexually speaking, but note the vocabulary: (chapter 72) (chapter 89) If you pay attention to their interaction, the lord acts like the servant. The reason is simple. If you take into consideration the second list of recommendations, you will recognize that the roles are switched. Outside a sex session, the submissive becomes the “king“, and the dominant has to act like his servant. That way, a certain balance is created. But this was never the case between the pedophile and the teenager. The latter was always reduced to a plaything and at the end to an animal. The pedophile never called the protagonist by his name. (Chapter 1) He was just called “my boy“. And that was it. He never created a real bound with the main lead. Therefore trust was totally inexistent. And because the young noble could only fear the man, he came to hate him to the point he could die. The latter made promises which he never kept!! (Chapter 101) How could he vow to “protect or help“ Yoon Seungho, when the latter was tormented constantly and exposed to violence against his will? And this could only escalate to Yoon Seungho‘s attempt to commit suicide. (Chapter 57) What caught my attention is that Kim needed the help from the other servant to keep Yoon Seungho on the bed. This is relevant, because this reveals that Yoon Seungho had reached an age, when the bearded man was no longer strong enough to restrain the main lead. It is very likely that before killing himself, the protagonist had even tried to hurt the ruler. (Chapter 55) I had this idea, for the story is going in circle, meaning that the lord must have done it before, just like he did in season 3. The possible death from the main lead and probably his own pain must have brought the mysterious lord Song back to reality. That‘s the reason why he sent for the physician‘s assistance. He was encouraged to keep his distance from the young man, just like the latter was incited to stay away from the painter in season 1 (sickness, Min), in season 2 (the scholar‘s insult) and in season 3 (the rough sex session in chapter 81-82). Thus I deduce that the pedophile has always kept an eye on Yoon Seungho and his recovery. In my opinion, the man has not forgotten the main lead at all. Why do I think so? It is because he kept the painting… (chapter 82) a souvenir from their time together, just like Min who stole the painting in the study.

Thanks to the painter, the more time passes on, the more Yoon Seungho changed. Not only he returned to his original personality, but he slowly developed the rules how to play BDSM. He discovered the importance of “consent” after the second sex marathon. Striking is that he got reprimanded by his butler after the love session. This explicates why the main lead never requested the painter in his bedchamber, and only visited him during the night, when he was asleep. (chapter 74) Thus I am deducing that Seungho-Ya will become the safe word between the two protagonists. (Chapter 72)

While Yoon Seungho dresses the painter personally, or he cleans him with his own hands, the king imagined that the butler would take care of everything. Thus I come to the deduction that the king will discover the real reason why his relationship with Yoon Seungho was doomed, and why he could never obtain his heart. Kim had also betrayed him, for he had never revealed his knowledge at the right time. He used paltering to escape punishment. However, I would like not to be misunderstood here. Naturally, lord Song is as much responsible as the other abusers. Why? The king only focused on his own pleasure, and never paid attention to the counterpart, he was totally in denial that he was using violence. Deep down, he knew that this was wrong, for the main lead was just a boy, like the “nickname“ was revealing it. He thought, as the ruler, he could overlook social norms. However, here he had definitely crossed the line. So imagine what BDSM means for a teenager. It is indeed a torture. He must have been definitely scared. And the king must have threatened him too not to share his sexual habits to others. I am quite sure that the ruler was not willing to admit his own sexual habits to others, hence he did it in the shed. It is also possible that he didn‘t mind of Yoon Seungho being described as a licentious man. That way, the king‘s behavior wouldn‘t be criticized. But because Yoon Seungho was sent to the shed, and punished there, the “fathers“ misjudged the real “value“ of the main lead. They truly thought that the king only viewed the main lead as an animal. They took the punishments in the shed as face-value reinforcing their disregard for the protagonist.

Thus I come to the conclusion that the shed was the place where the main lead was exposed to BDSM. This explicates why Byeonduck revealed such an image in a tweet. The noble with the mole is trapped in a shed, and the color purple, a symbol for royalty, is dominant. From my point of view, the author revealed everything in this tweet. On the other hand, I would like to point out that here the man doesn’t look scared or rejecting the use of the bondage or the dildo.

This explicates why Yoon Seungho was so rough in the storage room. (Chapter 63) He was reliving his biggest trauma. Yet, he never went overboard in the shed. Note that the moment the painter called his lover “lord Seungho”, there was a switch. (chapter 63) That’s the reason why the lord changed the painter’s position and faced him. (chapter 63) The lord communicated his feelings and thoughts, and he even made a promise. (Chapter 63) This new perception reinforces my impression that there was no rape in the storage room. The painter kept saying “no“, because he was actually scared about his own reactions. Strangely he felt pleasure, thus he kept having climaxes. He was simply in denial. The irony is that the noble attempted himself to be cruel during the night of the revelation (episode 62, 63, 64), but he failed, because the night at the doctor’s house was still fresh in his memory. He couldn‘t forget the tender embrace from the painter. (Chapter 62) This explicates why he stood up during the penetration, he was forcing the artist to hug him, to clinch onto him. He wanted to relive it again.

As you can imagine, the infamous lord Song knew no boundary. He was simply the worst kind of sado-masochiste. First, this was never an act, the submission and as such violence were real. Why? It was because of his social position. He was the king, yet BDSM is a role play. Moreover, I would like to add the Marquis de Sade as the best illustration. The French philosopher from the 18th Century was arrested due to sexual crimes: rape, sodomy, sex with teenagers, abuses (bondage). We don’t know for sure how far he went, yet there’s no ambiguity that the libertine had definitely crossed the line. I doubt that the man knew about the necessity of rules in BDSM as well. Striking is that his „victims“ were prostitutes and people from the lower social class, while he belonged himself to the old nobility. I am suspecting that the man didn’t truly outlive his sexual fantasies with women from the same social status. Thus I came to the following conclusion: the necessity to distinguish fantasy and reality. My faithful readers will certainly recall that the protagonists had to learn to make this distinction. Consequently, I have the impression that the king didn’t make the difference in the beginning. He thought that he was finally able to outlive his sexual fantasies, not comprehending that this was just an illusion, for the “violence“ was real to Yoon Seungho. Under this new approach, we have the explanation why Yoon Seungho never paid attention to the marks left by the ties on his wrists. (Chapter 63) He had internalized the marks left by the bondage. This is no coincidence that the artist‘s wrist was covered by the bandage, the reflection from the torment in his youth. Under this new aspect, the presence of the bed in the shed was like a magical tool, which helped the lord to not turn into his tormentor. He was just a ghost from the past, and the word “lord Seungho“ worked like a magic spell, which stopped Yoon Seungho from becoming as vicious and cruel as lord Song. Moreover Lord Song sounds very similar to lord Seungho. And this new discovery confirms my interpretation that Kim was the helping hand of the king. He had to provide him with the white bands for the bondage, just like he had helped for the young master’s kidnapping in the gibang. (chapter 86) But don‘t get me wrong. The king sent the main lead to the shed, when he wished to punish him. Yes, he repeated the same actions than Yoon Chang-Hyeon. And what is the common denominator between these two circles? The valet…

Besides, he didn’t treat Yoon Seungho like a slave, but like an animal. One might say that it was not his fault, for he was not aware of the physical and emotional torment from the other abusers. However, the moment he “claimed“ Yoon Seungho as his „partner“ or “plaything“, it was his duty to ensure his safety. Besides, if he truly cared for him, he should have showed more interest in the young master. Thus he became responsible for Yoon Seungho’s suffering. Note that so far, no servant was treated like that in the mansion. Even Soongap from Bongchon Bride was treated much better, until he received his terrible punishment. Soongap was never forced to live in the shed. Under this new light, I see it as another evidence that the infamous lord Song could only be the king! He is the only person who has absolute power in Joseon, and as such knows no “real boundaries“. Furthermore, as the ruler, he is expecting no rejection from his subjects. Anyone watching sageuks (historical Korean dramas), is aware that the Joseon king was never an absolute monarch, for he was always controlled by the officials, ministers, the Queen dowager and the Queen. There were also protocols which he was forced to follow. And we have an indication about the king‘s lack of power and wealth. (Chapter 76) Thus I am assuming that the lord Song must have been frustrated about this contradiction. On the one hand, he was supposed to be the most powerful man in Joseon, on the other hand, he had to rely on the aristocracy. Hence I have the impression that the ruler vented his anger and frustration on Yoon Seungho unconsciously. That way, he could outlive his sexual fantasies, where he was powerful. But because of these terrible sexual habits, the young master could never get treated by a physician. Anyone would have recognized the sign of abuse.

But imagine what it meant for Yoon Seungho, a teenager who discovered sex through the most horrible way! He had been traumatized by the penetration between the kisaeng and the fake teacher. Striking is that the perpetrator and the other adults all reduced sex to penetration, like my friend Luzyla pointed out to me. The dildo and the comments from the nobles (chapter 92) (Chapter 101) are a proof that they never discovered the importance of kisses, embraces, caresses and words during sex. They never recognized that they were denying the existence of love, too obsessed with their heritage and their reputation. The manhwalovers will remember my previous observation. The pedophile had never kissed the main lead. The king like all the nobles had disconnected sex from love. Why? It is because sex was a duty… to continue the lineage. And now, you have the explanation why the pedophile and all the others reduced sex to penetration.

Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why Heena got scared in the annex. (Chapter 96) When she heard the noise (PLOP), she was brought back to the past, when she had witnessed a scene of BDSM, though the violence was real. A similar situation to this scene: (chapter 73) The pictures from the erotic publication are the evidence for this theory. After hearing the description from the butler about the events in the shed, the noona Heena believed to know what had happened in the shed. (Chapter 68) She could see the traces on the painter’s body, and conclude that the valet was telling the truth. However, the butler had been misled himself, for his perception was biased by his past experience. (Chapter 64) The butler thought that the “no“ from the painter was truly real, while the latter was just dishonest. It was the result from the “indoctrination“ from Heena and Jung In-Hun. The valet had been deceived in the end. The humiliation and punishment were not real, for the painter did ejaculate, and back then he was not under the influence of the aphrodisiac. (Chapter 64) This was not like in the past, when the brutality was real. And now, you comprehend why Heena‘s resent towards her brother became more visible after witnessing the love session between the noble and Baek Na-Kyum. (Chapter 97) From my point of view, she had already internalized that the painter would never change, he was already too “damaged“ to change. However, since he was close to Yoon Seungho, he could become in danger, for she knew the connection between the ruler and the main lead.

3. The pants

And now, you are probably wondering why I selected such a title, when so far, I didn’t mention the pants. Nevertheless, my faithful readers will certainly recall my previous analysis “Who is wearing the pants?“ , where I had pointed out about the lord’s habit who kept his trousers for the most part of the time. (Chapter 72) He was copying the habit from the pedophile in my eyes. The latter would never remove all his clothes on his own. As the king, he was used to get undressed by his own staff. Only the teenager as the uke was undressed, unless the lord was accompanied by the other nobles, like in this scene. (Chapter 54) And because the ruler was too focused on his own pleasure, he never got to know the young noble. He only realized too late that he had made huge mistakes. (chapter 37) Because he couldn‘t accept his responsibility, he preferred blaming others: Yoon Seungho, Yoon Chang-Hyeon, the real lord Song, the 3 nobles who got tortured, etc. Thus everyone got punished. He had definitely developed feelings for Yoon Seungho, but he would never admit it, for love was not accepted among nobility and even less between 2 men. However, I don‘t think that the man should be romanticized, for he abused a young boy for almost a decade. He has to be judged as a sexual predator, who hunted down Yoon Seungho to get him. (Chapter 72) Yoon Seungho was his prey.

4. Discipline and sadism

After reading my whole explanation, the manhwaworms can comprehend why Yoon Seungho said this to his childhood friend. (Chapter 59) The main lead was supposed to meet his tormentor in a public place. Yet their relationship was based on “humiliation“! The “king“ loved to punish Yoon Seungho through humiliation and violence. This explicates why Yoon Seungho reacted that way. (Chapter 56) (chapter 57) This is what he experienced himself in the past. And observe that the childhood friend’s biggest punishment was actually his public humiliation, when he confessed and got rejected. (Chapter 59) In my eyes, the king sought to obtain Yoon Seungho’s affection, but he never realized this. He definitely confused it with submission. He definitely imagined that once the teenager would become submissive, he would have achieved his goal. But he was doomed to fail. In his mind, as the ruler no one could ever reject him. Besides, as the ruler, he was allowed to use his power and as such his strength to obtain what he desires. Don’t forget that in Joseon, people viewed all the monarchs als representatives of the gods. The latter would support them. However, since his youth Yoon Seungho had a strong opinion and mind. Therefore he had caused trouble to his father, as the latter viewed his critical thinking as a synonym for a lack of respect for traditions and the elders, the so-called illness from his childhood. Besides, I am suspecting that the lord must have had visions as well, which would contradict the father‘s dreams and expectations. (Chapter 57) Yoon Chang-Hyeon looked down on his son’s critical thinking and came to doubt his words. The author left many clues for this interpretation: (chapter 101) Lord Jang got aroused, when he saw the bloodied lips from the painter. Moreover, Black Heart had brought a huge dildo. (Chapter 101) The item was huge, therefore it could only injure the artist’s anus. (Chapter 100) (chapter 101) Even the noble said that this must have hurt. The painter disliked being bitten in the neck. (Chapter 88) Furthermore, the lord said this to the painter in the study: (chapter 85) These were the words from the pedophile. He was repeating his sexual abuser‘s words. And this proves to me again that the lord was abused in the study, but if he rejected the man, he would be sent to the shed where he would receive his punishment. In other words, Yoon Seungho was punished with sex and violence. And now, you have the explanation why he got gangraped in the end. But the readers should keep in their mind that this was no real BDSM, for the brutality was real. The king couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion. And this coincides with all my previous interpretations.

  • The importance of acting,
  • The protagonists had to learn to distinguish between illusion and reality
  • The constant switching between lord and servant,
  • The differentiation between conscious and unconscious
  • The repetition of trials leading to punishment (an allusion to BDSM)

Naturally, the king is the biggest hypocrite in the end. He raped the boy, and he knew that. But he could always legitimate his actions with the following excuse. The young boy was a sodomite anyway, for he couldn’t do the deed with a kisaeng. He had brought him upon himself, since he had accepted his offer in the first place. He definitely used religion and philosophy (Taoism) to hide his crimes. By maintaining the harmony between the Yin and Yang, he would live healthy and live longer. But exactly like Lee Jihwa, he was attempting to fool himself and the main lead. And because he made no distinction between real and fake submission, neither father Yoon nor Kim felt obliged to view Yoon Seungho as the king’s official wife or concubine. How could they know that the man viewed the main lead more than just a plaything or a dog? This explicates why Kim had such a memory in the end. (Chapter 65) Kim had brought him to the barn, because Yoon Seungho was punished there. This could only be suggested by the butler, as I don’t think that the king would ask for the owner of the mansion for permission. This room was definitely taboo, no one was allowed to approach the study or the shed. Yoon Seungho was exposed to rough sex, and Kim knew this, like mentioned above. But he never witnessed it himself, he only discovered the aftermath. From my point of view, this scene occurred after the lord’s loss of virginity. (Chapter 65) And now, you have the explanation why he got gangraped in the end. I had always sensed that this was a punishment for Yoon Seungho.

I will stop here, for the essay is already very long. But before ending this, I would add two more aspects. I was still unable to comment about this panel, (chapter 94). Notice that violence was used against the painter to mask attraction. The “girly features“ were definitely perceived as something tantalizing. Thus I perceive this incident as a reflection from the BDSM. It was to push the artist away, to incite him to leave the gibang. Heena feared that he might catch the attention of the pedophile, and it is very likely that she was manipulated by the scholar, her idol.

As a conclusion, this new approach gave me new insight about the pedophile‘s personality. Either he will come to the city very soon or he is already in town and this for two reasons. It is related to Yoon Seungho and Black Heart. There’s no ambiguity that the death of Min who was definitely close to him will force him to intervene directly. In the past, I had developed the theory that Black Heart and his friend with the mole were the king’s new companions. In truth, he will use this incident to reenter the main lead‘s life. First, Yoon Seungho was supposed to have committed suicide. He will ask about Yoon Seungho‘s whereabouts and about the incident leading to his disappearance: the rumor about the protagonist‘s crimes (the death of the scholar and the servants)…. And that‘s how he will discover that Baek Na-Kyum is considered as the main lead‘s bride! From my point of view, he knew about the existence of the painter, yet he must have explained his “bride“‘s behavior like this: (chapter 18)

Feel free to comment. If you have any suggestion for topics or manhwas, feel free to ask. If you enjoyed reading it, retweet it or push the button like. My Reddit-Instagram-Tumblr-Twitter account is: @bebebisous33. Thanks for reading and for the support, particularly, I would like to thank all the new followers and people recommending my blog.