Jinx: Steady Passionate 🌹 Devotion 💍

Kim Dan’s birthday and his presents

As the narrative of Jinx moves toward the decisive window of December 24th to (chapter 89) December 26th (chapter 97), readers are confronted with a question that seems simple yet resists any easy answer: what exactly has Joo Jaekyung prepared for Kim Dan’s birthday?

For many, the answer appears obvious. (chapter 97) The bouquet of red roses—long associated with romantic passion, desire, and confession—seems to speak for itself. Paired with the appearance of a strawberry cake and the long-anticipated possibility of couple rings (chapter 97), the scene appears easy to decode. It suggests a champion finally ready to step out from behind his walls and express what words have long concealed. But are these gifts the true center of the moment, or only its most visible layer? Is Jaekyung merely celebrating a birthday, or trying to alter the future he and Kim Dan might share?

Yet Jinx rarely reveals itself through what is most obvious at first glance. Again and again, significance emerges through timing (chapter 81), hesitation, gesture, and subtle changes in the spaces characters inhabit. A gift may matter less than the moment it is offered. A movement may reveal more than a confession. Even the introduction of something new into a familiar environment can carry emotional weight beyond words.

Perhaps the most important mystery lies not in what Kim Dan will receive, but in what Jaekyung himself is becoming. Is he still the man who equates care with possession and value with financial power? Or is he beginning, however awkwardly, to imagine another form of devotion—one expressed less through spectacle than through protection, constancy, and shared future?

To answer that question, we must look beyond the surface of roses and celebration. For the most meaningful present may not be the one that first captures the eye, but the one that reveals a transformation of the heart.

When Gifts Speak Volumes

At first glance, Chapter 97 appears easy to interpret. A bouquet of red roses, a strawberry cake marked Happy Birthday, and a pair of rings seem to point toward an obvious conclusion: (chapter 97) Joo Jaekyung has prepared birthday presents for Kim Dan. Yet the chapter becomes far more complex, once we recognize that these presents do not carry fixed meanings in themselves. In this story, gifts are shaped less by appearance than by intention, timing, and emotional context.

Red Roses: Desire and Reconciliation

The bouquet of red roses offers the clearest example. Traditionally, red roses signify romantic love, passion, desire, and confession. On the surface, they appear to announce a straightforward romantic gesture. Yet the surrounding context changes their meaning. Jaekyung brings them after acknowledging that he had treated Kim Dan badly. (chapter 97) Because of this, the flowers express more than attraction alone. They also function as apology and reconciliation. Their romantic symbolism remains, but it is deepened by remorse and by the desire to restore closeness after harm.

This double meaning is important. The roses do not erase desire; they refine it. Passion is no longer detached from responsibility. Attraction is joined to remorse. In that sense, the gesture marks growth: Jaekyung does not simply want Kim Dan—he wants to restore closeness with him. If intimacy follows that night (chapter 97), it would carry a different significance than in the past. It would no longer be defined by the old “jinx” logic of transactional or ritualized sex, but by reconciliation and mutual affection. The act would cease to be mere release and become an expression of true love.

The bouquet of red roses carries yet another layer of meaning when placed beside the couple’s earlier conversation about flowers. When Kim Dan once received pink roses from Choi Heesung (chapter 31), he explained that he liked flowers because of their scent. (chapter 31) The statement seemed simple at the time, almost shyly innocent, yet it reveals something essential about his character. Kim Dan values not spectacle, status, or monetary worth, but the quiet emotional effect an object can have. He does not love flowers because they are expensive. He loves the atmosphere they create, the comfort they bring, and the mood they awaken.

This detail becomes even more significant when contrasted with Joo Jaekyung’s immediate response: (chapter 31) At first, the line sounds like blunt indifference. Yet its emotional effect falls most sharply on Kim Dan. Having just admitted that he likes flowers because of their scent, Kim Dan is suddenly placed in an awkward position. Thus he apologizes. The rejection no longer concerns flowers alone. It risks sounding like a rejection of what Kim Dan himself has brought into the shared space.

This matters because scent crosses boundaries in ways other objects do not. A fragrance cannot be neatly contained. It lingers, spreads through rooms (chapter 31), and remains in the air. In that sense, Kim Dan may feel he has trespassed—that he has filled Jaekyung’s penthouse with something unwanted, leaving behind traces of himself where he had no right to do so. That’s how it dawned on me why the athlete refused to have the room cleaned for quite some time (chapter 55), he wanted to keep the physical therapist’s scent there.

But let’s return our attention to the scene with the pink roses. For a man as careful and self-effacing as Kim Dan, such a moment would naturally produce embarrassment. The shame lies not only in differing tastes, but in the fear of being too present. His preference seems to have occupied space that was never truly his. And now, you understand why he didn’t leave the elevator at the same time. (chapter 31) He wanted to be considerate of Joo Jaekyung, making sure that the flowers’ fragrance would not bother his “landlord”.

Striking is that the line “I hate flowers” is more than just blunt indifference. Yet later revelations about Jaekyung’s childhood allow it to be read differently. His past is marked by humiliation, deprivation, and social contempt. (chapter 72) He was mocked as dirty, poor, and (chapter 72) “smelly.” Odor, in his early life, was not associated with beauty or tenderness, but with shame. Smell became tied to exclusion.

That distinction matters because scent is one of the most powerful carriers of memory. Unlike rational thought, fragrance can bypass language and return a person directly to emotion. For Kim Dan, the smell of flowers “puts [him] in a good mood.” (chapter 31) For Jaekyung, sensory memory may have operated in the opposite direction, linking smell to poverty, rejection, and pain.

Seen in this light, the red roses of Chapter 97 are profoundly symbolic. The celebrity does not merely buy a conventional romantic gift. He chooses an object tied to a sensory world he once rejected. Whether consciously or not, he reaches toward what he had previously denied. (chapter 97) This contrast gives the bouquet an additional significance. The red roses do not merely symbolize romance or apology; they also possess an immediate emotional function. Because the wolf remembers that flowers can cheer up his fated partner, his choice of gift becomes quietly strategic as well as affectionate. He is not only offering an object, but shaping the atmosphere in which the encounter will unfold.

The fragrance of the roses can soften tension, brighten the space, and reduce the emotional distance created by their recent conflict. In that sense, Jaekyung is doing more than saying I’m sorry. He is creating the conditions in which that apology may be more easily accepted. Rather than forcing reconciliation through words or authority, he approaches Kim Dan through something known to bring him comfort.

The gesture therefore reveals a subtle but important evolution. The MMA fighter is no longer acting only from impulse or pride. He is observing, remembering, and responding to Kim Dan’s inner world. What he offers is not simply flowers, but consideration.

At the same time, the bouquet suggests the rewriting of scent itself. What was once connected to humiliation is now reintroduced through affection. What once belonged to trauma is placed inside a gesture of care. This is why the flowers can be understood as therapeutic for Jaekyung as well. In offering them to his fated partner, he may also be exposing himself to a new emotional association. The fragrance of flowers no longer belongs only to distance or discomfort. Through Kim Dan, it can become linked to warmth, intimacy, and home.

The color deepens this transformation. Earlier pink roses symbolized admiration, gratitude, joy, grace, and gentle affection. (chapter 31) Red roses carry stronger meanings: passion, desire, courage, and declared love. The movement from pink to red mirrors the movement of the relationship itself—from undecisive tenderness to chosen intensity. (chapter 97)

Most importantly, the bouquet reveals how Kim Dan changes Jaekyung’s relationship to the world. Kim Dan does not simply receive gifts; he rehumanizes meanings that trauma had distorted. Through him, even something as ordinary as scent can be recovered. In that sense, the roses speak not only to Kim Dan, but to the wounded child Jaekyung once was.

The Strawberry Cake: One Object, Many Readings

The cake works in a similarly revealing way. (chapter 97) Its packaging openly displays the words Happy Birthday, inviting the reader to assume that its purpose is self-evident. Yet the narrative itself unsettles that assumption. (chapter 97) Kim Dan also purchases the same kind of cake, but not to celebrate his own birthday. He chooses it to honor Jaekyung, expressing pride, care, and happiness for the champion’s success. (chapter 97) Gratitude and admiration replace regret as the emotional core of the gesture. The same object therefore carries different meanings in different hands.

This parallel reveals that the cake does not inherently mean “birthday.” Its significance depends on the giver and the feeling expressed through it. In Jaekyung’s hands, it becomes part of an effort to repair tension and reopen warmth. In Kim Dan’s hands, it becomes admiration and support. The printed message remains the same, but the emotional message changes. The same object becomes two messages: one says, I’m sorry. The other says, I’m proud of you. Without coordination, both men choose the same symbolic language: Love. They are beginning to meet each other in thought. To conclude, the cake reveals emotional convergence.

The cake gains additional meaning when placed within its seasonal context. In South Korea, the strawberry shortcake-style dessert displayed in bakeries each December is strongly associated with Christmas celebrations.

For more information, read this article: All Koreans need for Christmas is … a cake?https://www.koreaherald.com/article/3280348 / picture is quoted from https://www.orientalmart.co.uk/blog/how-christmas-celebrated-south-korea

Covered in white cream and topped with bright strawberries, it visually echoes the festive colors of winter and has become a familiar part of romantic holiday culture. It is not merely something people eat; it is an object tied to atmosphere, celebration, and shared occasions.

The cultural backdrop changes how the scene can be read, but not necessarily how the characters themselves understand it. On December 24th, roses and a strawberry cream cake naturally evoke the visual language of romance and couple celebration. To an outside observer, such gifts can resemble the signs of a private date or an intimate evening together. Yet the scene suggests that neither Kim Dan nor Jaekyung fully approaches it through that lens.

Kim Dan’s attention is drawn to a family leaving the bakery (chapter 97), which subtly shifts the emotional frame. Rather than reading the setting as romantic spectacle, he may register warmth, celebration, and shared belonging. True to his character, domestic happiness may speak to him more immediately than public codes of romance.

Jaekyung’s position is different, but no less revealing. He appears motivated first by personal memory and immediate need. He remembers flowers in connection with Kim Dan and seeks a way to repair the distance created by recent conflict. (chapter 31) His impulse is intimate rather than seasonal. He is not setting out to perform Christmas romance; he is trying, in the only way he can, to reconcile.

At the same time, that private intention takes shape within a very specific environment. Because he is shopping on Christmas Eve, he moves through spaces already saturated with festive displays, bakery counters, bouquets, and seasonal rituals of affection. The desire originates within him, but the language available to express it is supplied by the world around him. This helps explain his visible hesitation. (chapter 97) He questions whether it would be strange to give such presents and admits that he no longer even knows what to do. The uncertainty suggests that he has not fully mastered the symbolic code he is using. He senses that flowers, cake, and rings matter, yet he cannot entirely explain why they feel right or whether they will make him look foolish.

That tension makes the scene especially moving. Kim Dan sees warmth (chapter 97) where others might see romance. Jaekyung reaches for gestures of affection whose wider meanings he only partially understands. Neither man consciously names the moment as a couple’s ritual, yet their actions begin to inhabit that language all the same. Personal feeling leads, while culture quietly gives it form.

This gives the moment a special subtlety. The gifts carry meanings larger than either man explicitly names. Their relationship begins to appear as a couple’s bond, even before they fully recognize it themselves. Culture speaks around them before they can speak for themselves.

This makes the writing on the box especially significant. Happy Birthday offers an innocent and socially acceptable explanation for gifts that might otherwise appear overtly romantic. (chapter 97) The label clarifies the scene on the surface, yet it may also conceal its deeper meaning. What looks like a birthday errand can simultaneously function as an intimate gesture between two people, whose bond is becoming harder to hide.

The timing of Jaekyung’s gesture strengthens this reading even further. Kim Dan’s birthday falls on December 26th, yet the flowers and cake are brought on the night of December 24th. This is not merely an early delivery. It creates a practical contradiction. (chapter 97) Both gifts are highly perishable. (chapter 97) Fresh roses begin to droop with time, and a cream cake topped with strawberries is meant to be enjoyed while fresh. If these objects were truly intended as the final birthday presents for the actual day, they would be oddly chosen. By the time December 26th arrived, the flowers would already be fading and the cake would have lost the freshness that gives it value.

This everyday logic matters because it shifts the interpretation at the most basic level. Even before symbolism enters the discussion, the objects do not behave like conventional birthday presents. They belong to the present moment, not to a celebration two days away. (chapter 97) That present moment is emotional rather than calendrical. Jaekyung does not bring them because the date demands it, but because the relationship does. The gifts answer urgency: recent conflict, approaching uncertainty, and the desire to restore warmth before the match intervenes and the doctor leaves him.

In that sense, their perishability becomes meaningful in itself. These are objects made to be experienced now, just as reconciliation must happen now. They are temporary gifts chosen for an immediate wound, while the more lasting question of the future is carried elsewhere.

The Couple Rings: Equality and Commitment

Once the flowers and cake are recognized as gestures for the present rather than true birthday presents, one visible possibility remains: the couple rings. (chapter 97) They seem, at last, to be the real gift. Their permanence contrasts with the fragility of roses and cream cake, and their symbolism suits an important personal occasion far more naturally.

And yet even here, the scene proves more complex than it first appears.The rings belong to another emotional layer altogether. Unlike the flowers and cake, they are already in Jaekyung’s possession. He carries them with him (chapter 97) and admits that he has gone back and forth countless times about giving them. (chapter 97) This hesitation suggests that they were acquired well before the events of the chapter and tied to a longer internal struggle. An earlier panel strengthens this interpretation. (chapter 97) While still at the gym, before any flowers or cake appear, Jaekyung tells himself that he has to give Kim Dan something. The wording is important. He does not think about buying something, searching for something, or choosing something later. He speaks as someone who already has a gift in mind and already has it with him.

That object can hardly be the flowers or the cake. Both appear freshly purchased and belong to the practical errands of the journey home. The roses are newly arranged, and the cream cake with strawberries is clearly meant for immediate consumption. They are gifts obtained on the way, not items long carried in secret.

The rings fit the evidence far more convincingly. Small enough to remain hidden in his pocket, already burdened with emotional hesitation, and linked to a decision he has postponed many times (chapter 97), they are the only visible present that explains the panel at the gym. Jaekyung leaves early because he intends to act, but before returning home he stops at the bakery and flower shop, adding new gestures of apology and warmth to the older gift he had already prepared.

This also explains the subtle irony of the sequence. Though he departs the gym early, he does not arrive home immediately. The delay itself becomes meaningful: between decision and confession (chapter 97), he gathers the courage—and the accompanying symbols—needed to finally face Kim Dan.

Yet among everything he carries or acquires that evening, one object stands apart from the rest. The flowers and cake belong to the immediate moment: they soothe tension, create warmth, and answer a present emotional need. The rings, by contrast, reach beyond the night itself. They are not meant to be enjoyed briefly or consumed in passing, but to endure. For that reason, they carry the greatest symbolic weight of all.

Flowers can wilt, cake is consumed, but a ring endures. (chapter 97) Its circular form traditionally signifies continuity, fidelity, and mutual belonging. Most importantly, a ring cannot fully function within hierarchy. It gains meaning through reciprocity. One person may offer it, but its true significance depends on acceptance. In that sense, the rings challenge the old imbalance that has defined their bond: wealth versus debt, fame versus obscurity, strength versus vulnerability. If the wolf offers couple rings, he is not simply giving an object. He is inviting Kim Dan into a shared definition of the relationship. That is a radically different gesture from transactional generosity. It says not I provide for you, but let us belong to one another.

This is also why the rings cannot be understood as an ordinary birthday present. A birthday gift is usually directed toward one person alone. Couple rings follow another logic entirely: the giver receives one as well. The gesture is not centered on an individual celebration, but on the creation of a mutual bond. They do not say this day belongs to you so much as our future belongs to us.

And yet even this is not the final step. Commitment of the heart must still be matched by conditions in which that commitment can live.

For that reason, the rings signify something deeper than celebration. They do not simply mark a date. They express commitment, vulnerability, and the fear of loss. More than any other object in the chapter, they reach toward the future. Seen in this light, none of the visible presents can be reduced to simple birthday gifts. The flowers speak of love and apology. (chapter 97) The cake proves that even obvious symbols can be redefined by intention. The rings embody permanence and the hope that what exists now might continue beyond the match. (chapter 97)

Thus I conclude that even the rings do not complete the transformation. The roses may apologize, the cake may reconcile, and the rings may promise continuity, but all three remain symbolic gestures. They express feeling without necessarily changing the conditions in which that feeling must survive. In this story, love is tested not by sentiment alone, but by circumstances and actions. What use is confession without safety? What use is commitment without freedom? What use is tenderness if the surrounding world remains invasive, unstable, or controlling?

For Kim Dan, the deepest issue has never been exhaustion alone. His life has long been structured by dependence: on institutions, on precarious work, on family obligation, and finally on Jaekyung’s benevolence and protection. Flowers, cake, and even rings may express attachment, but they do not resolve the question of autonomy. Until now, the physical therapist has rarely been treated as a fully self-determining adult. (chapter 78) More often, he has been positioned as a servant to be used or a child to be guided. (chapter 89) His choices have repeatedly been shaped, directed, or provoked by the will of others rather than emerging freely as his own.

If the story ended with the rings, Kim Dan would be a loved dependent, but still a dependent. He would remain the one waiting in the penthouse (chapter 96), the one being driven, the one whose safety exists only when Jaekyung is physically present.

To love him fully, then, requires more than symbolic devotion. It requires the creation of conditions in which he can move freely, choose freely, and exist securely without total reliance on another person. And that is precisely where the question of the true birthday gift returns.

The Architecture of the Sanctuary

And once these meanings are recognized, a final question naturally emerges: does the champion truly have a birthday gift for Kim Dan after all—and if so, where is it?

The answer may begin not among the visible presents, but in a detail far easier to overlook: the parking garage. (chapter 97) The moment the flowers, cake, and rings are understood as gestures serving other emotional purposes, the possibility of another gift comes sharply into view. If those objects are not the true birthday present, then the narrative invites us to search elsewhere. One panel quietly draws attention to exactly such a possibility: for the first time, a third car appears.

This detail gains force when placed beside earlier chapters. The garage shown in Chapter 97 does not simply contain another vehicle; it reflects an evolution already underway. In Chapter 18, the space appears more functional and exposed. (chapter 18) By Chapter 32, the parking area has changed noticeably. (chapter 32) It is larger, more exclusive, and more carefully structured, resembling a private VIP bay rather than an ordinary shared garage. The environment itself has become more protected.

That architectural change matters. A private bay separates the vehicles from the risks of crowded public parking: scratches, collisions, intrusion, unwanted proximity. (chapter 97) The cars are no longer stored merely for convenience. They are sheltered. Even before any emotional interpretation, the space communicates a desire for control, security, and preservation.

In episode 32, Kim Dan wondered about the number of Jaekyung’s cars, because he noticed the new car. (chapter 32), and many readers likely did the same. Attention naturally falls on wealth and quantity. Yet the more meaningful change may lie elsewhere: not in how many cars exist, but in the kind of space being created around them.

Personal transformation in this story is often reflected through architecture. Rooms, hallways, rooftops, doors, and thresholds do not simply contain events; they externalize inner states. Jaekyung’s world has long been luxurious, elevated, and impressive, yet also emotionally isolated. The penthouse functions as both reward and prison: a symbol of success that often feels sterile and inaccessible. It is therefore significant that one of the clearest signs of change appears below the tower rather than inside it.

The deepest change may not be that Jaekyung owns more. It may be that he has begun arranging what he owns for someone else.

The White Sedan: Why This Car Matters

Among the parked vehicles, one stands apart: the white sedan. (chapter 97) . Unlike Jaekyung’s earlier sports cars—machines associated with speed, aggression, (chapter 32) display, and public image—this vehicle speaks a different language. It is understated rather than theatrical, spacious rather than cramped, functional rather than performative.

The color matters as well. White can suggest clarity, neutrality, and renewal. Whether read symbolically or simply aesthetically, it sharply contrasts with the darker, more aggressive aura of luxury performance cars. It looks less like an extension of ego and more like the beginning of another chapter. On the other hand, white is the safest color on the road because it’s the most visible to other drivers at night. If this theory is true, then it indicates that Jaekyung is truly prioritizing Dan’s safety over his own “cool” aesthetic.

More importantly, the sedan fits Kim Dan far more naturally than it fits Jaekyung’s former image. Kim Dan has never been defined by extravagance or spectacle. He values usefulness, modesty, comfort, and quiet sincerity. A practical and comfortable vehicle suited for daily life reflects his character far more than a machine built to impress strangers.

For that reason, the sedan becomes another clue that the new car may not be intended for Jaekyung at all. It resembles Kim Dan’s needs more than Jaekyung’s branding. The car also offers something rare in the world of Jinx: invisibility. Fame has repeatedly exposed Jaekyung to surveillance, intrusion, and manipulation. Many readers will certainly recall this episode where a black car was detected following the champion’s gray SUV. (chapter 33) A discreet sedan blends into ordinary traffic in ways a recognizable celebrity vehicle cannot. If registered under Kim Dan’s name, it would create even greater privacy and unpredictability. Protection would no longer depend only on physical strength, but on foresight and anonymity. And if this car was purchased recently, no one would know about its existence. Not even Park Namwook! If Chapter 33 presented movement as secrecy, confusion, and anxious uncertainty —where the question was Where are they going, and why? (chapter 33) —then Chapter 97 becomes its positive reflection. The same motif of driving now signifies trust, mutual desire, and emotional security. What was once shadowed by suspicion is transformed into intimacy. The destination matters less than the person beside you. The journey is no longer something done to Kim Dan, but something they experience together. (chapter 97)

Yet perhaps the most important meaning is autonomy. If Dan owns or drives the car, Jaekyung is not merely giving him transportation. He is giving him the power to choose when to stay, when to leave, and where to go. He is literally placing the keys of departure in Kim Dan’s hands.

But due to his social class, it is clear that Kim Dan does not yet have a driving licence. Therefore the gift cannot be reduced to ownership alone. It would imply learning, practice, patience, and future development. In other words, the present becomes a shared project. That changes Jaekyung’s role as well. He is no longer simply the powerful man who provides solutions from above. He becomes someone who teaches, encourages, and accompanies Kim Dan as he acquires a new skill. Instead of keeping Dan dependent, he would actively help him become more independent.

This matters because it reverses earlier patterns in their relationship. (chapter 89) So often, Kim Dan has been pushed by crisis, debt, or necessity. Here, he would be pushed toward growth. The pressure would no longer come from fear, but from care. The physical therapist could drive his drunk lover back home.

The symbolism is rich: learning to drive means learning confidence, judgment, orientation, and trust in one’s own decisions. It is not only about operating a vehicle; it is about entering a wider world. Seen in that light, the gift would expand Kim Dan’s life on multiple levels. It offers mobility in the present, autonomy in the future, and a new horizon of possibility. He could suggest to his lover to go on a trip: (chapter 47) Jaekyung would not merely be giving him a car. He would be helping him become someone who can go further than before.

And that changes everything. If Kim Dan remains after receiving the freedom to leave, then his staying becomes meaningful in an entirely new way. In other words, the white car stands for blind faith.

Rings Before Keys: Commitment and Shared Future

Even so, the car cannot come first. Among all visible presents, the couple rings carry the greatest symbolic weight. Unlike flowers or cake, a ring endures. It signifies continuity, reciprocity, and chosen connection. Its circular form evokes a bond without hierarchy, beginning, or end.

That symbolism matters because Jaekyung and Kim Dan’s history has long been shaped by imbalance: wealth against debt, fame against obscurity, strength against vulnerability. In such a relationship, an expensive gift can easily reproduce the old pattern of giver and receiver, power and dependence.

A ring resists that logic. (chapter 97) Its meaning does not come from price, but from mutual consent. It only becomes meaningful when accepted. For perhaps the first time, Jaekyung would be offering something that requires equality.

This is why the order matters. If the car came first, it could still appear as another transaction. But if the rings come first, the emotional foundation changes. Commitment precedes comfort. The relationship is defined before support is expanded.

Kim Dan once gave from scarcity. (chapter 42) He worked exhausting night shifts and spent money he could barely spare in order to offer something meaningful. The value of the keychain was not only monetary; it represented sacrifice, attention, and a sincere desire to make Joo Jaekyung happy.

If Jaekyung now offered only a confession with rings (chapter 97) and nothing else, the scene could risk feeling emotionally incomplete—not because the rings are insignificant, but because the story has already established a language of giving in which effort matters. Kim Dan gave beyond his means. Readers therefore expect Jaekyung, who possesses far greater resources, to respond not merely with sentiment, but with a gesture that shows equal thoughtfulness and concrete care.

That is why the possibility of another gift carries such force. It is not about luxury for its own sake. It is about demonstrating that Jaekyung has understood who Kim Dan is and what he actually needs. The true opposite of Kim Dan’s earlier sacrifice would not be expensive jewelry alone, but something shaped around Dan’s daily life, freedom, and well-being.

In that sense, the issue is not whether Jaekyung appears stingy. It is whether his love remains symbolic only, or becomes materially attentive. The narrative stakes are higher than generosity: they concern transformation.

Under those conditions, the white sedan acquires a different meaning. (chapter 97) It is no longer a trophy or display object. It becomes shared infrastructure. If the rings secure the emotional bond (chapter 97), the car secures the practical conditions in which that bond can live. For Kim Dan, that practical dimension matters profoundly. Until now, movement has rarely belonged fully to him. He walks (chapter 21), uses public transportation (chapter 11), takes taxis (chapter 1), or is driven by others. (chapter 32) Even mobility itself has often depended on circumstance and on the decisions of other people. (chapter 95) A car therefore symbolizes more than comfort: it represents agency, adulthood, and the power to move by his own will. Yet the emotional meaning goes even further. In Chapter 97, the question is no longer only where one goes, but with whom one travels. What was once denied to Kim Dan as independence now returns to him as both freedom and companionship. He is no longer merely carried by another person’s choices; he gains the ability to choose for himself while sharing the road with someone who chooses him in return.

The gift would also transform responsibility. Until now, Jaekyung has often been driven, managed, and accompanied by others on decisive days. His manager and coach occupied the space of trust around him—at least when he remained profitable and useful. (chapter 5) Yet when he was injured and vulnerable, that support proved conditional and incomplete. (chapter 53)

If Kim Dan becomes the one who drives, steadies, and accompanies him, the structure quietly changes. The old “hyungs” are not displaced through conflict, but through irrelevance. Care succeeds where management failed. At the same time, the gesture expresses trust. To let Kim Dan drive is to entrust him with direction, safety, and shared movement. The man who has long carried the weight of control would finally allow someone else to take the wheel. That change matters deeply for Jaekyung as well. It means he no longer has to bear every burden alone. He can rest in the passenger seat, just like Kim Dan does. (chapter 95) He can be guided instead of always guiding, supported instead of always performing. The positions become reversible: each can carry the other when needed.

In that sense, the car symbolizes more than freedom. It symbolizes partnership. (chapter 97) They are no longer fixed in rigid roles of protector and protected. They gain the ability to switch places, share responsibility, and move forward together.

This completes one of the story’s deepest reversals. The man once treated as burden or servant becomes the person closest to the champion’s future.

Kim Dan once gave Jaekyung a small keychain (chapter 81): modest (not too visible), personal, and sincere. The price for his hard work. (chapter 97) If Jaekyung now gives him a car, their gestures beautifully answer one another. Kim Dan once offered the symbolic key to his world; Jaekyung responds by offering the means to navigate a shared one.

One gift says: stay with me.
The other says: let’s move forward together.

And now, you comprehend why I made the following prediction: They would stay together, but leave the place too!

Conclusion: The Dragon’s Pearl

What emerges from these details is a quiet but radical truth: home in Jinx is no longer a penthouse, a contract, or a symbol of status. It is a person. (chapter 97)

Jaekyung’s deepest transformation is not that he has become softer in some simplistic sense, but that his strength is being redirected. The force once used to dominate, intimidate, and defend his own pride is gradually turned outward in service of another’s well-being. (chapter 97) That is why the image of the dragon and the pearl feels so fitting. In many traditions, the dragon guards treasure—but the highest treasure is not gold. It is wisdom, devotion, and the recognition of what truly matters.

Kim Dan, likewise, is no longer merely the exhausted and scared man in need of rescue. He becomes the emotional center around which Jaekyung reorganizes his life. He is his moon shining in the darkness. (chapter 97) Their bond moves beyond the false alternatives of burden and savior, victim and protector, debtor and benefactor. They begin to inhabit a rarer form of intimacy: mutual sanctuary.

In a world shaped by spectators, institutions, scandals, and past wounds, safety cannot be guaranteed by wealth alone. It must be created through trust, constancy, and the willingness to change for another person. If Jaekyung’s gifts truly point in that direction, then the greatest present is neither roses, nor rings, nor a car.

It is the life he is learning to build beside him. (chapter 97)

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Jinx: Drama Queen 👸 Han Dan and The Joker 🤡😈-part 2

When Protection changes Hands

In the first part, I focused on the Joker’s method: not brute force, but construction. One visible diversion captures attention (chapter 96), while another movement unfolds elsewhere. (chapter 97) The interview, the damaged poster (chapter 96), the hallway encounter, the former director’s sudden presence — none of these incidents need to be isolated events. They can be read as layers of the same design, arranged to poison the climate around Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan through mistrust, guilt, and confusion.

Yet while returning to the final scene once again, I realized that another question may now matter even more than the scheme itself: the question of protection.

Until now, protection in Jinx often appeared in the form of rescue. (chapter 79) Danger emerged first, and only then did someone intervene. Joo Jaekyung repeatedly occupied that role. (chapter 17) He was the one who could step in, overpower threats, and remove Kim Dan from immediate harm. Kim Dan, by contrast, was usually placed on the other side of that equation: the one exposed, cornered, or in need of help. But rescue and protection are not the same thing.

The Gym’s Intervention: A Case Study in Failed Protection

A precise materialization of this concept can be seen in the scene where Joo Jaekyung, blinded by rage, is physically restrained by Park Namwook and other gym fighters (chapter 96). On the surface, this action resembles a form of protection: they are stopping him from committing a violent act that would derail his career, effectively “saving” him from himself (chapter 96). Yet, this is rescue, not protection. Their intervention is purely physical, reactive, and localized. Crucially, as they physically struggle, Park Namwook and the others remain mentally and verbally passive. (chapter 96) They do not challenge the source of the rage or offer a solution. They only seek to manage the immediate visible symptom. While the fist is stopped, the underlying “toxic climate” that allows these provocations to take root is left completely intact. This scene proves that without speech, strategy, and mutual agency, physical restraint—even when well-intentioned—is just temporary damage control. This is exactly the kind of passive, limited intervention that the new paradigm must overcome.

Rescue is immediate and visible. (chapter 72) It answers a crisis once it has already begun. Protection reaches further. (chapter 72) It concerns safety before the blow lands, the ability to recognize manipulation (chapter 49), to prevent harm from taking root, and to create a space where trust can survive pressure.

That distinction becomes difficult to ignore in the current arc. The hallway scene, the compromised penthouse (chapter 97), the article on the cellphone (chapter 91), and Kim Dan’s recent actions (chapter 97) all suggest that the old division may no longer be stable. The familiar roles of protector and protected are beginning to shift.

If that is true, then the real tension of the chapter may not be limited to whether Kim Dan will stay or leave. It may concern something deeper: who can protect whom now, and what protection truly means when fists, money, and walls are no longer enough.

The First Protection: Kim Dan Must Protect Himself

There is another layer that cannot be omitted. Before Kim Dan can protect Joo Jaekyung, he may first need to protect himself. That matters because the hallway is not a neutral space for him. (chapter 97) This atmosphere of entrapment is a haunting echo of the story’s beginning. One of the most defining early images of Kim Dan shows him descending a narrow, outdoor staircase, accompanied by the thought: (chapter 1). In that moment, the world was a predatory space where every threshold was a threat.

By returning to a similar threshold now—the dark hallway—the narrative forces Kim Dan to confront that original wound. The question is no longer just ‘is he safe?’ but rather, has he found a way to carry safety within himself so that the world no longer feels like that desolate staircase? If the man waiting there is the former director, Kim Dan would not simply see an unwelcome visitor. He would see the return of an earlier danger. (chapter 90) The memory is important. The director did not lure him with kindness alone. He used his position (chapter 1), status, and Kim Dan’s financial desperation to force compliance. Kim Dan needed the job, needed the salary, needed stability. (chapter 90) The imbalance of power was already doing the violence before any physical act began. What appeared outwardly as professional authority became a means of control. The setting itself carries symbolic weight: enclosed space, unequal power, obscurity, silence. (chapter 90) A place where Kim Dan’s options were reduced and his voice cornered. The hallway now echoes that structure. It is dark. It is private. It is detached from witnesses. (chapter 97) Once again, the same man appears in a threshold space, waiting. Seen this way, Kim Dan’s shock is not weakness. It is recognition. (chapter 90) This contrasts to his reaction at the restaurant. His fear was not only about the present moment. (chapter 90) It was the body remembering before language could fully explain why. (chapter 90) Trauma often recognizes danger faster than conscious thought. If so, the first battle of the chapter is not just one of emotional endurance, but of practical application. Like mentioned above, the look on Kim Dan’s face in the hallway is not one of paralyzing fear, but of profound shock (Chapter 97). It is the shock of recognition, yes, but it is also the moment where his training meets reality.

Jinx-lovers will recall the pivotal training session in Chapter 88, where Joo Jaekyung pinned him to the mat and challenged him: (chapter 88). In that moment, the champion wasn’t just showing dominance; he was imparting a philosophy of resistance. He taught Dan that ‘technique beats size’ (chapter 88) and that even a smaller person can take down a ‘bigger guy’ (Chapter 88).

The hallway encounter with the former director is Kim Dan’s first ‘unscripted match.’ The question is no longer whether he is a ‘frightened victim,’ but whether he can now apply the champion’s lessons, when the stakes are no longer a training mat, but his own physical and emotional safety. Can he use the ‘technique’ of self-assertion and restraint he learned in the gym to dismantle the ‘size’ of the director’s predatory influence? Only by proving he can protect himself using the tools Jaekyung gave him can the stage be set for mutual protection.”

The Joker Card and the Cellphone

One image deserves to be reconsidered before anything else. Earlier in the story, Joo Jaekyung was shown holding a Joker card. (chapter 27) The object symbolized instability, provocation, loss and a game whose rules could suddenly change. It represented a force that unsettled even the champion. Now another object occupies his hand: (chapter 91) the cellphone containing the article about the disgraced former director. (chapter 91) The visual echo matters. The card belonged to a world of tricks, chance, and psychological disturbance. The cellphone belongs to a world of information, memory, and proof. If the earlier Joker card stood for loss and frustration, this new “card” may stand for its opposite: exposure and “victory”. That possibility becomes especially important in the hallway. (chapter 97) So the moment Joo Jaekyung recognizes the intruder as the former director, then Joo Jaekyung is no longer facing an unknown threat. He is confronting a man whose public downfall has already been documented. In other words, the hallway does not only contain danger. It also contains evidence. It stands for trespassing and lack of credibility. This would mark a major turning point for the champion. In the past, he often relied on force, money, private networks, or silence after the fact. Hence he never reported himself the crimes to the authorities (chapter 18) because, for Jaekyung, the ‘system’ was never a source of safety. This mistrust is rooted in a childhood where his abuse was an open secret that remained unaddressed (chapter 72). While the director of the boxing studio knew of his suffering, the police were never involved. There is a bitter irony in the fact that while his father was a violent thug (chapter 72), on paper he remained a ‘good citizen’ who never faced legal repercussions. Jaekyung learned that authorities protect the appearance of order rather than the victims of violence. This skepticism manifested again at the docks (chapter 69), where he chose to ‘save’ Kim Dan through private force rather than wait for legal intervention. Yet those methods repeatedly failed to create real safety. Problems were hidden, postponed, or redirected, or relegated (chapter 52) but not resolved. The cellphone introduces another path (chapter 91): report the crime immediately, involve the authorities, and refuse to let the event be swallowed by the same closed systems as before. If so, the real weapon in his hand is not violence, but the possibility of lawful action.

When the Queen Protects the Champion

If Joo Jaekyung’s protection may now take the form of evidence and public accountability, Kim Dan’s protection works differently. His strength lies in perception. One detail remains highly significant: according to me, Kim Dan never watched Baek Junmin’s interview in full. (chapter 96) He only read the headlines. On the surface, this might appear dismissive or indifferent. (chapter 96) Yet it can also be understood as an expression of Jeong. Kim Dan’s attention was not captured by the Joker’s performance. His concern went directly to Joo Jaekyung and how such exposure might wound him. He absorbed the central facts — poverty, orphanhood, hardship — but did not grant full authority to the humiliating spectacle built around them. (chapter 96)That distinction matters because Baek Junmin likely assumes that public narrative equals truth. If the audience hears something loudly enough, then it becomes reality. But Kim Dan now stands in a different position. He has already met Hwang Byungchul. He has already heard another version of the champion’s past, something the Joker is not expecting. He knows about the father’s abuse, the violence of the home, and the suffering hidden behind Joo Jaekyung’s coldness. (chapter 72) This means that if the hallway encounter is designed to reveal a “hidden truth” — like for example that Joo Jaekyung is only a thug, a violent man who attacks doctors (chapter 1) and patients (chapter 52) ) someone unworthy of trust— the strategy may fail at its most important point. The intended listener is no longer ignorant. Kim Dan can now protect the champion by refusing reduction. He can challenge selective storytelling. Jaekyung is frequently depicted as an avid reader (chapter 97), a sign of a deeply disciplined and self-educated mind. This intellectual depth is his most overlooked form of protection. It means he isn’t just a ‘frightened kid’ or a ‘reactive thug’; he is someone who understands the power of information.Besides, he is a huge reader. He can insist that pain has context, that trauma cannot be erased, and that one act of rage does not explain an entire person. In earlier chapters, Joo Jaekyung protected through action (buying clothes, teaching him how to swim). Here, Kim Dan may protect through interpretation and words.

And this gives the title Drama Queen Dan a deeper irony. What once sounded playful or dismissive can now be read as the name of someone who understands that drama is not merely chaos, but the struggle over meaning itself. A “queen” in this sense does not protect through brute force, but through perception, timing, and the ability to read the hidden script beneath appearances. Kim Dan’s strength lies precisely there. He can recognize when pain is being turned into narrative, when provocation is being staged as truth, and when the man beside him is being reduced to a role he does not deserve. If Joo Jaekyung guards through physical power, then Kim Dan may guard through interpretation—protecting the champion not by striking an enemy, but by refusing to let false stories rule the stage.

Speech Over Force

This possibility reveals a deeper reversal in the story. For a long time, force appeared decisive while speech remained secondary. Those with power acted. (chapter 90) Those without power endured. Silence was survival, and violence seemed to be the language that changed outcomes.

But the hallway may invert that pattern for another reason as well: both Jokers (chapter 96) behind the present tension rely on the same weapon — the past. (chapter 90)

That may be the clearest link between Baek Junmin and the former director. Neither truly confronts the present. Instead, each tries to reactivate an earlier version of the people before them. Baek Junmin depends on old wounds, old shame (chapter 96), and old reactions, as though Joo Jaekyung were still trapped inside the same vulnerabilities and Kim Dan still occupied the same desperate, submissive position. (chapter 90)The former director operates similarly, but with a more intimate cruelty. He does not speak to Kim Dan as a person in front of him. He speaks about Kim Dan to Joo Jaekyung, reducing him once again to an object of transaction, greed, and sexual humiliation.

That distinction matters. The insult is aimed at Kim Dan, yet delivered through the champion. (chapter 90) Kim Dan is called money-hungry, fake, a slut, someone whose affection can be bought. Their apparent happiness is framed as performance, their bond as a financial arrangement, intimacy as deception. In one move, the former director attempts to degrade Kim Dan and poison Joo Jaekyung’s trust at the same time.

This is why his rhetoric belongs to the logic of the past. He still imagines Kim Dan through the old hierarchy: poor, vulnerable, purchasable, voiceless. He assumes economic need must still define him. He assumes shame will still silence him. He assumes that if enough dirt is thrown, the old imbalance will return by itself.

Baek Junmin’s logic is similar. He acts as though Joo Jaekyung can still be provoked into self-destruction (chapter 96) and as though Kim Dan can still be reached through doubt, guilt, or public image. Both antagonists depend on immobility. Once weak, always weak. Once poor, always dependent. Once violent, always reducible to violence.

Yet the present is no longer identical to the past. Kim Dan is no longer the employee trapped inside institutional dependence. He is no longer alone, voiceless, or forced to endure humiliation in exchange for survival. (chapter 97) Hence he plans to cook the athlete’s favorite dishes. (chapter 97) Joo Jaekyung is no longer merely a reactive fighter ruled by rage. He is now capable to reflect on his own behavior. (chapter 97) Their relationship itself has altered the conditions on which those older scripts depended.

That is why force becomes less reliable here. In darkness, appearances are unstable. Shadows distort faces, gestures, and intention. A punch may become proof. A reaction may complete someone else’s script. If Joo Jaekyung strikes first, the aggressor can pose as victim. If Kim Dan retreats in silence, the old narrative appears confirmed.

Words, however, can interrupt that mechanism. A refusal can expose coercion. A clear statement can stop confusion. Naming a lie can weaken it. Calling the police can shift the frame from private manipulation to public accountability. Speech does not erase the past, but it prevents the past from dictating the meaning of the present.

The staircase deepens this reading. Earlier, I described the hallway as a stage, and a stage always implies an audience. If so, who is meant to witness the scene? Perhaps Joo Jaekyung (chapter 97), expected to arrive at the right moment and see only the surface of what is happening. Perhaps hidden accomplices waiting nearby. Perhaps no single person, but the imagined spectator inside each victim — the internalized fear that says humiliation is inevitable and resistance useless.

The architecture matters. The elevator is the visible and ordinary route, (chapter 97) the official path of movement. But once it closes, that route disappears. What remains is the staircase: the emergency passage, yet also the more secret and ambiguous one. In Jinx, stairways (chapter 50) seem to be linked to conspiracy, crime (chapter 50), or offstage maneuvering (chapter 96). The hallway therefore feels less like a neutral corridor than a set arranged for entrapment, where ordinary exits vanish and only compromised paths remain.

That is why the real struggle of the scene may not be between strength and weakness, but between two temporal logics. (chapter 97) One insists that people never change and can always be returned to their former place. The other proves that they have changed already.

Joo Jaekyung may need to discover that strength includes relying on the police. Kim Dan may need to discover that care includes speaking aloud. And both may need to recognize that protection no longer lies in repeating old reactions, but in refusing the script entirely.

The real victory of the hallway may therefore not belong to the stronger fist, but to the clearer voice.

The Book and the Question of Time

The Gift as Emotional Infrastructure

At first glance, the book may look like a simple gift. (chapter 97) But it carries a far deeper meaning. It is not merely a birthday present. It is an expression of love, gratitude, and attentive recognition. That distinction matters because the story has already shown another gift: the keychain. (chapter 97) The keychain came together with a birthday card, yet the champion only truly saw the object. He never had the chance to read the written message attached to it. He only discovered its existence much later. (chapter 81) As a result, the gesture remained incomplete and vulnerable to misunderstanding. (chapter 45) The material gift was visible, but the feeling behind it stayed hidden. The book changes that structure. (chapter 97) Unlike the earlier present, it unites both functions at once. It is a physical object, but it also communicates what words alone might struggle to express. Even before it is opened, its cover already speaks.

Linguistic Shadows: Love, Stay, and Rest

Its title can be read in several layers. (chapter 87) Oui, c’est l’amour means in French Yes, this is love. The phrase functions almost like an answer to all the confusion that came before: the uncertainty in the dining room (chapter 93), the champion asking what he was feeling, the hesitation around whether kindness was guilt (chapter 93), pity, or something else. (chapter 93) The title responds clearly where the characters still struggle to do so themselves. Yes—what exists here is love. Another visible word, reste, signifies stay or remain in French. Yet because the final letter appears hidden or incomplete, the word can also be seen through English eyes as rest. (chapter 97) That double reading is powerful. It joins emotional fidelity with emotional relief. Stay with me. Remain beside me. Rest now. Sleep in peace. All of these meanings answer Joo Jaekyung’s deepest needs more precisely than an expensive object ever could.

The Portable Home: Love as a Protective Sanctuary

All of these meanings answer Joo Jaekyung’s deepest needs more precisely than an expensive object ever could. He needs someone who remains. (chapter 97) This linguistic double-meaning transforms the book from a mere object into the blueprint for a Home. For Joo Jaekyung, home has historically been a site of trauma and violence—a place where he was exposed rather than shielded. This longing for a safe domestic space is rooted in a childhood vow. In a poignant flashback (chapter 72), a young Jaekyung stands in a snow-covered phone booth, promising: ‘One day I’ll make a lot of money… and stop him. So can you come back home?’ For the young champion, ‘Home’ was a conditional destination—a reward that could only be reclaimed once he had enough wealth to physically ‘stop’ the source of violence. He equated protection with financial power and the physical ability to gatekeep. Yet, as an adult, even with the wealth and the power to stop anyone, he remained ‘homeless’ in spirit. By offering him the book and a space to ‘stay,’ Kim Dan is updating this childhood vow. He is proving that a ‘Home’ is not something Jaekyung has to buy or defend alone through force; it is a sanctuary that is built through mutual presence and emotional safety. Kim Dan is offering a new kind of protection: the creation of a domestic sanctuary. If the ring is a place of performance and the hallway a place of entrapment, the book represents a ‘portable home.’ (chapter 97) It signals that protection is no longer about walls or wealth, but about being truly ‘seen’ and ‘housed’ in another person’s care. In this sense, love becomes the ultimate protective layer, providing the internal peace necessary for the champion to face the external storm. He needs rest from insomnia and endless pressure. He needs affection detached from performance. He needs permission to exist outside the ring.

What does he need most on the eve of a fight? Not more hype, not more strategy, not more pressure—but a peaceful night and the possibility of sleep.

This is why the hidden or incomplete letter matters as much as the printed word. Something unfinished becomes full only through interpretation, just as the relationship itself has been moving from partial gestures toward clearer recognition. The cover says more than it first appears to say, just as Kim Dan’s care has always meant more than it openly declared. In other words, by receiving such a book, Joo Jaekyung’s insomnia can finally vanish.

Temporal Sabotage: Choosing Care Over Spectacle

Timing therefore becomes decisive. The Joker’s method depends on buying time (chapter 93), delaying genuine encounters, and keeping everything trapped inside the schedule of the match. Everything must wait until after the fight: truth, tenderness, resolution, emotional clarity. Human feeling is subordinated to spectacle.

The book does the opposite. It accelerates emotional truth. If given before the match (chapter 97), it says now what the system insists should only come later. It offers comfort before performance, care before victory, and peace before violence.

In that sense, the gift is not a distraction from the fight. It may be the very thing the champion needs most in order to face it.

The title therefore transforms the book into more than a purchase. It becomes a message Kim Dan may not yet be ready to say aloud. Through this single object, he expresses affection, constancy, and concern for the champion’s suffering. (chapter 97) In that sense, the gift also embodies Jeong: a form of attachment built not through grand declarations, but through accumulated care, remembered details, silent loyalty, and the desire to ease another person’s burdens. Kim Dan does not simply give an object. He gives the emotional attention he has been carrying for Joo Jaekyung all along.

Kim Dan did not buy the book out of obligation or because a date on the calendar demanded it. He bought it because, while moving through his own day, his attention still turned toward Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 97) Care continued in absence. The relationship was active even when they were apart. This places the gift in sharp contrast with the keychain episode. Back then, Kim Dan selected something through external logic. He entered the dressing room (chapter 42), crossing into the champion’s private space (chapter 42), and chose according to appearance and assumed usefulness. The gesture was sincere, but still uncertain. It responded to what Joo Jaekyung seemed to need. (chapter 42) The book is different because it responds to who he is. (chapter 97) Kim Dan remembers that the champion had been reading this author before. He notices the new release. He immediately connects it to Joo Jaekyung’s insomnia and inner unrest. The choice therefore emerges from observation, memory, and understanding rather than surface impression. This means the gift is modest in price but immense in emotional value. It is inexpensive materially, yet rich in evidence. Evidence that Kim Dan listens. Evidence that he watches carefully. Evidence that the champion exists in his mind beyond moments of direct contact. And that is precisely why it may become the best gift Joo Jaekyung has ever received. And he could even cry out of “happiness”. Not because of luxury. Not because of status. Not because it flatters his public identity. But because it answers a wound deeper than material lack: the fear of being unseen except for utility, strength, or performance. The fear of never being loved. Furthermore, the champion’s interest in this author also indicates his transformation (chapter 97), as the book seems to focus on emotions and relationships. It shows that despite the appearances, the athlete’s also learning and expanding his horizon.

So if crisis changes the order (the encounter with the director in the hallways), then the champion could discover or receive the gift beforehand, then the logic transforms entirely. The book would no longer reward success. It would precede it. Joo Jaekyung would receive something valuable not because he won, but because he already matters before the outcome is decided. That reversal is crucial. The wider system values him through belts, money, spectacle, and usefulness. The book values him as a person in advance of all results. This is why the gift stands against the Joker’s method. Manipulation delays truth, creates misunderstanding, and keeps feeling trapped behind timing, fear, and competition. The book does the opposite. It brings hidden care into the open. It accelerates emotional truth. It interrupts the schedule imposed by the match. And perhaps most beautifully, it gives Joo Jaekyung something rarest of all: not admiration, not demand, not pressure—but a sign that someone has truly learned how to love him.

The Damaged Poster, the Interview and the Wrong Audience

The ruined poster outside the gym should not be read in isolation. (chapter 96) It gains fuller meaning when placed beside the interview that preceded it. Together, they resemble two versions of the same attack: one verbal (chapter 96), one visual. One addressed through media spectacle, the other through physical vandalism. Both attempt to shape how Joo Jaekyung is seen.

At first glance, the interview appears directed toward the obvious audiences: the public, fans, gym members (chapter 96), sponsors, and the broader world watching the scandal unfold. The damaged poster seems to continue that same logic by materializing contempt in public space. The champion’s image is defaced where others can see it. Reputation is targeted through humiliation.

But there may be a more intimate audience hidden inside both gestures. One might think, it is to provoke the champion in order to have him disqualified. (chapter 96) However, there exists another possible interpretation. Readers may remember the earlier café scene, where Kim Dan met Choi Gilseok and photographs of that encounter were later sent to Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 48) That episode already suggested the presence of an unseen observer—someone in the shadows who understood that images can wound relationships more efficiently than fists can. If those photographs were indeed part of Baek Junmin’s broader method, then the interview and the poster follow the same principle: public content designed for private damage.

Seen this way, the real target is not only mass opinion. It is the person whose opinion matters most. Kim Dan. Don’t forget that back then, the physical therapist refused to accept the offer from the director of the rival gym: money, a place to stay, a treatment for his grandmother. But such a decision meant that the main lead was rejecting to work for Baek Junmin.

By this point, The Shotgun likely knows that Kim Dan has returned to Joo Jaekyung’s side. (chapter 93) He knows the physical therapist is no passing employee, but someone emotionally significant. That changes everything. If Kim Dan cannot be removed physically, he may be pressured psychologically.

The message then becomes sharper.

You chose a loser. (chapter 96)
You chose a weak man.
You chose a lost puppy (chapter 96), someone shameful, poor, abandoned, ridiculous.
You attached yourself to the wrong person.

The cruelty of the interview lies precisely here. It does not merely insult the champion’s past. It tries to make attachment to him feel embarrassing. (chapter 96) It reframes loyalty as foolishness. It attempts to poison admiration itself.

And this is where an important reversal emerges.

What is Kim Dan to Joo Jaekyung in reality? Not simply an employee, debtor, or dependent figure. He has become something closer to a true fan in the deepest sense of the word: someone who sees beyond branding, beyond headlines, beyond victories and losses. He is a true champion. (chapter 97) Someone who remains emotionally invested in the person rather than the image.

That kind of recognition is dangerous to Baek Junmin’s strategy because it cannot be controlled through spectacle alone. A casual fan (chapter 52) may turn away when public opinion shifts. A sponsor may withdraw when scandal appears. A crowd may cheer one day and mock the next. (chapter 36) But Kim Dan’s bond is no longer built on those unstable foundations. He believes in him.

He knows the child behind the champion. (chapter 94) For Baek Junmin, lost puppy oozes resent and mockery, but for the physical therapist, the same expression evokes care and protective instincts. (Chapter 29) He knows the wounds behind the arrogance. He knows the habits, the loneliness (chapter 97), the insomnia, the roughness that conceals care. He has seen the human being hidden beneath the public mask.

Once that level of knowledge exists, posters lose some of their power. (chapter 96) Headlines lose authority. Insults become transparent in their intention. This does not mean the attacks are harmless. Public humiliation can still wound, and symbolic destruction still creates pressure. But the scheme may fail where it matters most: in the private bond it seeks to fracture.

The wrong audience may have been chosen—or rather, the chosen audience may no longer respond in the old way.

There is another irony worth noting. Kim Dan never directly witnessed either of the two symbolic attacks. He did not see the damaged poster, and he did not fully watch the interview. The messages designed to shape his perception never reached him in the intended form.

This raises an important question about Baek Junmin’s own perspective. What exactly was he reacting to when he decided to escalate? (chapter 93) He may have seen the champion’s emotional reaction after the victory in Paris (chapter 87), where Joo Jaekyung visibly searched for Kim Dan in the crowd. Or he may have encountered videos (chapter 90) circulating online of the disturbance at the restaurant. (chapter 90) In either case, the external image would have looked simple: Joo Jaekyung had been provoked once again. The champion still appeared volatile, reactive, and unchanged.

And that perception matters because it fits the larger objective already discussed: to make Kim Dan leave the champion’s side and to have finally Joo Jaekyung disqualified for good. If Joo Jaekyung can be framed as unstable, violent, humiliating, or impossible to trust, then separation may occur without force. Kim Dan would withdraw on his own. The bond would break itself under pressure.

The restaurant scene especially could be misread in exactly that way. From an outsider’s perspective, Joo Jaekyung moved toward violence, while Kim Dan arrived only afterward to stop him. (chapter 90) It could seem as though the physical therapist was merely restraining, interrupting, or obstructing the champion. A hindrance rather than an ally. (chapter 90)

But that reading misses the hidden truth of the scene. (chapter 90) No outsider could know that the tension began because Kim Dan had left the room in emotional distress. No camera would capture the private wound beneath the public reaction. What looked like friction between the former director and the celebrity was in reality the consequence of care, misunderstanding, and emotional stakes invisible to spectators.

This highlights the fundamental flaw in Baek Junmin’s strategy. Junmin operates entirely within the realm of the Spectacle. Hence he is in reality the Drama Queen Han. His weapons are visual and immediate: TV interviews (Chapter 96), headlines (chapter 95), and shows designed for public consumption. To Junmin, truth is something manufactured for the camera; it is a ‘show’ of superiority and victimhood. This is why his method relies on surfaces—he assumes that if he can change the ‘image’ of Joo Jaekyung in Kim Dan’s eyes, the bond will break. (chapter 96)

However, Joo Jaekyung has quietly transitioned from being a ‘subject of the spectacle’ to a ‘man of the word.’ While Junmin is busy giving interviews, Jaekyung is increasingly depicted in private, intellectual moments. (chapter 97) We learn through Kim Dan’s observations that Jaekyung’s room is full of books and that he relies on reading to quiet his mind (chapter 97).

This shift is symbolic: Images are imposed, but words are interpreted. By becoming a reader, Jaekyung is no longer just a body to be filmed or a monster to be headlined; he is a person seeking depth. (chapter 97) When he reads the article about the Director’s sexual harassment (chapter 91), he is using the ‘word’ as a tool for justice, contrasting Junmin’s use of the ‘word’ for slander. Kim Dan, as a reader himself, recognizes this. He chooses the depth of the ‘book’—and the man who reads it—over the superficiality of the ‘video’ Junmin tries to sell him. In this arc, the bond remains unbroken because it is written in a language of depth that Baek Junmin’s cameras simply cannot capture.

Exit Scene: Stay and Leave

This returns us to the chapter’s apparent dilemma: stay or leave. (chapter 97) On the surface, the choice seems simple. Stay and remain inside danger. Leave and survive. But such a choice belongs to the Joker’s logic because it assumes safety is still tied to place: the penthouse, the gym, the old structures around them.

What if that assumption is already false? The penthouse has been compromised. Wealth did not secure it. The gym no longer guarantees protection or care. (chapter 96) Titles cannot create peace. (chapter 95) Walls cannot protect trust.

If so, then leaving a place may no longer mean losing safety. And staying may no longer mean remaining physically where one stands.

There is another detail that deepens this possibility. In an earlier reading of chapter 96, I described the relationship between the two protagonists through the idea of tactile dissonance. Their bodies no longer moved in harmony. (chapter 96) Distance, interruption, and broken rhythm shaped their contact. On the physical level, they seemed out of sync.

Yet chapter 97 reveals another reality beneath that surface: they are now mentally and emotionally aligned. (chapter 97) This alignment appears through a series of quiet but striking parallels. (chapter 97) Both independently buy the same cake. (chapter 97) Both choose gifts centered not on themselves, but on what the other would enjoy. (chapter 97) Each thinks in terms of the other’s happiness before speaking to the other directly. Care has become mutual instinct rather than negotiated obligation.

Even the visual composition reinforces this movement. (chapter 97) The author places them in mirrored and balanced panels, separated in space yet linked in intention. They stand apart physically, but the framing suggests an inner synchrony stronger than distance. What chapter 96 presented as bodily discord, chapter 97 answers with emotional consonance.

That contrast matters. Physical harmony can be disrupted by circumstance, misunderstanding, or outside interference. Mental and emotional harmony is harder to break, once it has truly formed. It means that even while separated by walls, schedules, or danger, they are already moving toward the same conclusion. (chapter 97) Stay together. And that conclusion may not be reached individually. They are no longer two isolated people reacting alone. They are becoming two people capable of choosing together. That’s what the couple rings symbolize here. (chapter 97) This is why the final question of the chapter may be less “Will Kim Dan stay?” or “Will he leave?” than whether they will make a shared decision at last. The mirrored gifts, the synchronized thoughts, the parallel panels — all suggest they are approaching a moment of joint agency. They are moving toward a ‘third path’ where they stay together by leaving the trap.

This transition is foreshadowed by the symbolic cards in their early history. If the former director represents the Joker card—the unpredictable threat to their peace (Chapter 27)—then the two ‘3’ cards Kim Dan held symbolize a deeper, private destination.

In Chapter 33, Jaekyung takes Dan to a secluded, ‘unknown’ location (chapter 33) where ‘no one would come’ (Chapter 33). The presence of the actor entering the club in slippers and no jacket despite the winter cold suggests a desperate, hurried escape from a world that had become a ‘trap.’ (chapter 33) Even then, Jaekyung’s motivation was clear: he followed Kim Dan because he could not bear for him to leave. That secluded house could be the physical ‘home’ Jaekyung had built while waiting for a partner worthy of sharing it.

Therefore, ‘leaving’ the current hallway or the compromised penthouse does not mean losing safety (chapter 97); it means relocating their sanctuary to a place where they are finally ‘alone’ in the way they both desired. They aren’t just fleeing a villain; they are choosing to occupy the ‘3’ cards—the private space they first glimpsed in Chapter 33. The mirrored gifts and synchronized thoughts suggest that for the first time, they aren’t being forced into a location; they are making a shared decision to ‘stay’ in each other’s presence while ‘leaving’ the narratives imposed upon them by others.”

If that happens, then the true harmony of the chapter will not be tactile at all. It will be volitional: two people finally choosing the same path at the same time.

Conclusion: Mutual Protection

The deeper movement of the story may therefore be this: rescue is no longer enough. Rescue removes someone from danger after the damage has begun. Protection asks how danger is recognized earlier (chapter 88), resisted differently, and prevented from defining the future. Joo Jaekyung may protect Kim Dan not through another violent intervention, but through truth made public, lawful action, and the refusal to let harm disappear in silence contrary to the past. Kim Dan may protect Joo Jaekyung not through physical force, but through knowledge (chapter 47), revelation (chapter 48), and the rejection of false narratives designed to reduce him (chapter 96). Each now carries what the other lacks. That is why the hallway matters. (chapter 97) It was staged as a place of fear, separation, and confusion. Yet it may become the very place where the old hierarchy collapses. Protector and protected are no longer fixed identities. If they overcome what is coming, it may be because they finally learn to protect each other. Ultimately, this shift reveals the story’s most vital truth: that safety is not a geographic location, and ‘home’ is not a piece of real estate. At the beginning of his journey, Kim Dan wandered through the city convinced there was ‘nowhere left in this world where I can feel safe’ (chapter 1). He looked for safety in walls, in locked doors, and in financial stability, only to find them all fragile. But as the protection changes hands in the hallway, we see the emergence of a different kind of fortress. If they can withstand the Joker’s design, it will be because they have realized that they are no longer each other’s burden or rescue project (chapter 97) — they are each other’s sanctuary. In a world of damaged posters and compromised penthouses, the only place left to feel safe is not a place at all, but a person.

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 Giant Of Paper 🗞️ and Laughter 🫢- part 2

After publishing the last essay, I had another realization. The problem is that with episode 97 being released today, I do not have the time—or the energy—to create a new illustration. And yet, the idea that emerged feels inseparable from my analysis of chapter 96 and its conclusion. It is not a new direction, but a continuation. A prolongation of The Giant of Paper and Laughter.

In the final part, I wrote:

At first glance, this moment appears to concern Kim Dan alone. (chapter 96) His hesitation, his position, his choice. But this would be too limited. Because episode 96 does not present a single decision. It constructs a field of decisions.

And within this field, Kim Dan is not the only one who must choose. His position becomes visible precisely because another figure, at the same moment, reveals the consequences of having chosen differently.

This is where Baek Junmin re-enters the analysis. His interview is not simply an attack, nor merely a rewriting of the past. It is the manifestation of a trajectory—a chain of alignments that began long before the present and that now reaches its visible form. What he says about Joo Jaekyung—about wrong choices (chapter 96), wrong people, wrong environments—does not only describe the other. It reflects himself. And with this reflection comes something else. Because choices do not only structure positions—they produce affects. What cannot be corrected becomes regret. What cannot be acknowledged becomes resentment. In this sense, the question that concludes the previous essay—what does it mean to choose?—cannot be answered by looking at Kim Dan alone.

It must be read against its opposite. Not the right decision in formation, but the wrong decision repeated.

Repetition without revision

The interview does not merely recount the past; it anchors itself in the present through the choices that continue to define Baek Junmin’s reality. (chapter 96) What begins as a critique of Joo Jaekyung (chapter 96) gradually reveals itself as a confession: a pattern of alignment from which the speaker cannot escape.

He insists—almost obsessively—that Jaekyung chose the wrong path: the wrong gym, the wrong environment, the wrong guidance (Chapter 96). Yet, the moment we shift our gaze from his words to his actions, a different coherence emerges. Baek Junmin is not correcting the champion’s mistakes; he is reproducing them. But this reproduction is not limited to structure. It extends into the relation he claims to describe. What he presents as guidance reveals itself as something else entirely. (chapter 96) He does not protect the past; he exposes it. He does not preserve proximity; he weaponizes it. The one who speaks as a former “hyung,” as someone who once stood close, reveals himself through the very act of speaking (chapter 96): not as a guide, but as the wrong companion.

Because to recount the past in this way is not neutral. It is to betray it. The intimacy he invokes becomes the condition of its distortion. What should remain within the bounds of shared experience is extracted, simplified, and made public. In doing so, he does not simply diminish Joo Jaekyung—he violates the relation that once connected them.

And yet, within this violation, another layer becomes visible. The betrayal he enacts is not only directed outward; it is already inscribed in the narrative he constructs. (chapter 96) In recounting their shared past, he attributes to Joo Jaekyung a form of abandonment without ever naming it as such. The figure that emerges is that of someone who turned away, who stopped looking back, who severed a bond that had once been taken for granted. This is never stated directly. It is implied, dispersed across fragments, but it remains perceptible. What appears as accusation begins to resemble projection—not as a declared grievance, but as something his discourse cannot fully conceal.

At the same time, he introduces a second distortion, more subtle but equally decisive. Success is no longer presented as the result of choice, effort, or trajectory, but reduced to chance. What had been built becomes “luck.” (chapter 96) In this shift, agency is erased. The champion’s path is no longer something he forged, but something that merely happened to him. This reduction is not incidental. It allows Baek Junmin to neutralize what he cannot replicate. If success is luck, then failure requires no explanation. If choice is denied, then responsibility can be displaced.

The authority he summons (chapter 93) to legitimize this narrative—a doctor presented as a voice of institutional truth—is fundamentally fractured. This is no neutral expert, but a fallen figure stripped of professional standing. The choice is not incidental; it reveals a structural flaw. Junmin does not distinguish between genuine authority and the mere veneer of it. And observe how he came to this choice: (chapter 93) He heard Heo Manwook call him by his former title and took it at face-value. For him, legitimacy is secondary to utility; if a figure serves his narrative, their instability is disregarded. In attempting to conceal his manipulation, he exposes it: his world is built upon figures who reside in the same gray zone he claims to have transcended.

As long as these figures remain unstable, (chapter 93) responsibility can be displaced. But the moment they act, that displacement collapses, and the weight of the compromised authority returns to the one who selected it. He speaks of “wrong choices” while trapped in a cycle of making them.

This repetition is not a new phenomenon; its roots reach back to the “hyung” he invokes. (chapter 96) This figure is not a neutral reference of proximity, but the terminal point at which Junmin’s trajectory was fixed. And Choi Gilseok resembles the hyung from his “youth”. He made a fortune on the tie, something that left the champion in paper “traumatized”. Unlike Joo Jaekyung—whose development remained anchored within the disciplined, visible structures of professional sport despite his volatility—Baek Junmin was initiated into a different system entirely. The mentor he followed did not lead him toward discipline, but into the underground (chapter 73); not toward a gym aimed at progression, but into a space governed by risk and illegality.

This distinction is decisive. Baek Junmin was not forged as an athlete, but as a combatant within a system designed for exploitation rather than recognition. Hence he became a thug. His skills were never oriented toward a title or a visible legacy; they were mobilized within a circuit that remains deliberately obscured. (chapter 74) To conclude, he did not fall outside the system; he was never inside it to begin with.

This explains why his status as “champion” remains fundamentally unstable. (chapter 96) He can occupy the position, but he cannot embody it. The void—the lack of a public image, the absence of the KOFC belt, the failure of his stage name to resonate—finds its explanation here. What he has acquired institutionally, he does not possess symbolically.

This void fuels the intensity of his rhetoric. Joo Jaekyung represents the one element Junmin cannot integrate: a trajectory that, despite its fractures, leads toward visibility and continuity. Jaekyung’s past cannot be reduced to weakness because it contains a structure that allowed for transformation. Faced with this, Junmin’s only strategy is inversion. Strength is recoded as arrogance (chapter 96); discipline as obsession; continuity as a series of humiliations.

He must rewrite the past because he cannot match it. Yet, this strategy produces the opposite of its intended effect. The more Junmin insists on a hierarchy in which he “knew better and was better” (chapter 96) the more he reveals his complete dependence on that very structure. Despite his title, Junmin remains the ‘lost puppy’ (chapter 96) of the narrative—a man who never outgrew the need for a ‘hyung’ to validate his existence. He seeks a vertical order not to lead, but to belong; he is a stray barking at the gates of a professional world that will never truly claim him. His identity requires a vertical order; without an opponent to place beneath him, nothing of Junmin remains.

Ultimately, the interview becomes unintentionally revelatory. It does not expose the champion; it exposes the speaker. The man who claims to be the superior guide reveals the limits of that claim through his own path. He embodies the “wrong choice”—not as a moral failing, but as a structural condition.

He did not choose his path; it was determined the moment he followed a mentor into exploitation. In the present, he does not deviate from that origin; he reproduces it, surrounding himself with figures that mirror his own instability. This is why his victory remains hollow. He has won the position, but not the meaning. He speaks, but cannot stabilize his narrative. He appears, but is never truly seen. In seeking to prove that Joo Jaekyung chose wrongly, he proves only that he is still choosing wrong himself.

The False Brotherhood and Its Collapse

The architecture of the past does not remain confined to memory; it persists in the present, manifesting in forms that are less visible and more socially acceptable, yet no less decisive.

On one side stands the specter of the underground “hyung,” (chapter 74) the figure who initiated Baek Junmin into a system of exploitation masked as guidance. On the other, Baek Junmin himself attempts to reproduce this exact position. (chapter 96) He presents himself as the one who “had it better ” and was better —the guide who observed, managed, and ultimately surpassed. What emerges is not an isolated trajectory, but a cycle: a form of brotherhood that offers protection while fundamentally structuring dependence, hierarchy, and control.

Joo Jaekyung has already detached himself from this cycle. What remains unresolved, however, is not his position, but Kim Dan’s perception.

The Institutional Guise of Care

In the present, the structure of the “hyung” reappears in a different guise: Park Namwook. (chapter 5) Unlike the underground mentor, his authority is institutional and his position legitimate. For Kim Dan, this distinction is decisive. (chapter 7) He perceives in the manager a form of empathy (chapter 36), a concern for the athlete’s well-being—a figure capable of managing what he himself cannot. Kim Dan’s trust does not emerge in a vacuum; it is built through a series of interactions that appear, at first glance, to confirm this perception (chapter 7). Park Namwook speaks the language of care, addresses him with familiarity, and repeatedly positions himself as someone who values both the fighter and the medical staff. If there was tension between them, he would side with him and not Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 37) Even when he intervenes critically (chapter 50) —questioning his decisions or demanding explanations—these moments are framed, in Kim Dan’s perception, as being in the champion’s best interest rather than as acts of control.

This interpretation is reinforced by Kim Dan’s own professional framework. As a physical therapist, he is accustomed to working within systems of authority where trust in doctors, managers, and institutional structures is not only expected but necessary. (chapter 27) He assumes coherence where there is only alignment of interests. What appears as consistency in Park Namwook’s behavior is therefore not examined as strategy, but accepted as sincerity.

As a result, isolated gestures—compliments (chapter 43), reassurances, even moments of apparent protection and respect (chapter 53) —acquire disproportionate weight. They become evidence of character rather than elements of a broader pattern. The contradiction between care and control does not disappear; it is simply reinterpreted. And it is precisely this reinterpretation that allows Kim Dan to maintain his belief in the manager’s integrity.

This belief produces a critical displacement. Trust becomes delegation; responsibility is transferred. When Joo Jaekyung is injured, Kim Dan does not follow. (chapter 95) He remains outside, convinced that the manager will provide what is needed—not only physically, but emotionally. The transparent door does not function as a barrier, but as an illusion of access. He sees, but he does not intervene. But more importantly, he is turning his back to the door, a sign of trust in the coach and manager.

What he fails to perceive is that this care is conditional. (chapter 36) It is directed toward the fighter, not the man. The gestures that appear protective reveal themselves, upon closer inspection, as instrumental. They aim at performance, recovery, and return—not at recognition. The same figure who speaks of concern is also the one who disciplines, who corrects, and who reduces the athlete to a function when he deviates. The language of care coexists with the mechanics of control.

Within this logic, another mechanism becomes perceptible: the gradual transformation of causality into coincidence. When tensions accumulate—injury, disqualification (chapter 95), conflict—these events are not articulated as consequences of decisions or structures, but as misfortune. What appears is a discourse of “bad luck,” (chapter 1) in which responsibility dissolves into circumstance.

Such a framing is not neutral. By presenting the sequence of incidents as accidental, it allows the figure who manages them to remain untouched. At the same time, it opens the possibility of displacement. If events are no longer the result of identifiable actions, they can be attached to a presence—to the one who arrived before their occurrence.

In this configuration, Kim Dan becomes vulnerable to a reinterpretation of his own role. His arrival can be recoded not as support, but as disruption; not as care, but as a source of imbalance. What he perceived as trust risks being inverted into suspicion.

This contradiction becomes fully visible in the moment where Park Namwook himself attempts to explain the incident. Faced with material damage, his first reflex is to neutralize causality: the event is described as if it had occurred on its own, as if timing, rather than action, were responsible. (chapter 96) The breakdown “chooses” its moment; no agent is named.

And yet, this neutralization cannot be sustained. The very next step—filing a police report—reintroduces what the discourse had attempted to erase: the necessity of responsibility. A report presupposes an act, an author, and a sequence that can be traced. In this brief oscillation, the limits of the managerial narrative become visible. What could previously be contained within the language of coincidence now demands articulation in terms of cause. The system that functioned through displacement is forced, however briefly, to acknowledge the existence of an origin.

It is precisely at this point that avoidance becomes impossible, though he is trying to hide behind the “we”, probably the institution MFC.

The Dissonance of Misrecognition

The dissonance between Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung does not emerge from absence, but from misrecognition. Kim Dan does not abandon the champion; he entrusts him to the wrong figure. In doing so, he reproduces the very structure that had once shaped Baek Junmin. Thus it is no coincidence that in the interview, Hwang Byungchul is described as a bad coach. (chapter 96) The reality is that Park Namwook is indeed a bad coach and even manager. (chapter 31) Here, if the athlete had followed this recommendation, he would have injured himself badly. What appears as protection recreates distance; what is named as guidance results in isolation.

This repetition reveals a deeper continuity. The same logic that governed the underground now reappears within the institution. What changes is not the structure, but its appearance.

This distance is further reinforced by the way Kim Dan encounters the external threat. (chapter 96) By remaining at the level of headlines, he experiences the situation as a public disturbance to be managed rather than as a personal violation to be understood. If he had watched the interview, he would have noticed the lies in the narration. So the narrative reaches him already filtered and stabilized, removed from its affective core. In this sense, his reliance on headlines mirrors his reliance on Park Namwook: both provide a form of safety that depends on distance, and both prevent direct engagement.

The Collapse of Mediation

The collapse begins when this distance can no longer be maintained. Baek Junmin’s intervention forces a shift by dissolving the boundary that had sustained Kim Dan’s position. By targeting not only Joo Jaekyung, but also the physical therapist (through the former hospital director) (chapter 93), the discourse eliminates the possibility of neutrality. What had remained external becomes immediate. Kim Dan is no longer in a position to interpret from afar; he is implicated. The Shotgun needs a doctor to discredit a physical therapist in the end. And it is clear that Park Namwook has the tendency to avoid trouble and implication. Hence he protects institutions, in particular MFC.

At this point, delegation becomes untenable. The belief that another could assume responsibility reveals its limits. What is exposed is not only the failure of the manager’s care, but the consequence of having trusted it. Under this new light, I realized why Mingwa included this incident at the hospice. (chapter 59) He had indeed made a mistake here, but the director of the hospice had defended him. He was not fired after this incident. Hence I come to the following deduction: Kim Dan is about to be confronted not simply with an external threat, but with the realization of his own misrecognition.He trusted the wrong hyung, just like Joo Jaekyung did. (chapter 95) Until now, he has no idea about the champion’s losses (chapter 54) and the consequences of his “departure” to the seaside. The incident at the health center, the slap at the hospital (chapter 52) and the champion’s drinking (chapter 54)

Conclusion: Presence as Choice

The conflict that follows is not incidental; it is necessary. It marks the moment where presence can no longer be replaced by function. In this rupture, the structure of the false brotherhood becomes fully visible. Whether in its underground form or its institutional version, it operates according to the same logic: authority without recognition, proximity without understanding, guidance without responsibility.

The “hyung” is no longer the one who commands or stands above through proximity to power. (chapter 96) It becomes something else entirely: the one who remains, who sees, and who does not turn away.

This position is not given; it is produced through conflict. The argument that emerges is therefore not a deviation from the relation—it is its condition. It forces Kim Dan to confront not only the system, but his own place within it. Only then can he occupy a position previously unavailable to him: not as a subordinate or a function, but as the one who chooses to stand beside—even when no role requires it.

Within this shift, the structure of hierarchy itself begins to invert. The one who once stood below becomes the one who sees, who understands, and who remains. If the term “hyung” is to acquire meaning beyond formality, it can no longer designate authority, but recognition. And such recognition cannot be assumed. (chapter 96) It requires something both have avoided until now: to meet each other’s gaze.

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 Giant Of Paper 🗞️ and Laughter 🫢- part 1

The Champion: A Giant?

Who is the giant? The answer seems self-evident—at least at first. (chapter 1) A towering figure, a champion, a name that carries weight across arenas and screens. Someone whose image is large enough to be printed, displayed, and recognized at a glance. And yet, that same image can be torn.

A poster is damaged. (chapter 96) Its surface scratched, its authority weakened. What was meant to represent strength suddenly appears fragile, almost replaceable. Around it, nothing changes immediately. The world continues, the match approaches, the voices keep speaking. (chapter 96) But something has shifted. The image no longer holds in the same way.

At nearly the same moment, another kind of intervention takes place. (chapter 96) Not physical, but verbal. A voice begins to recount a past—selectively, confidently, as if it had always been clear. (chapter 96) Details are rearranged, others omitted. What emerges is not a lie, nor entirely the truth, but something in between: a version that is easy to follow, easy to accept, and difficult to challenge. And with it, the figure at the center begins to change.

This is not a confrontation. It is a process. What appears to be under attack is a person. But what is actually being altered is something less tangible and far more unstable: the way that person is seen. An image, once fixed, becomes negotiable. A narrative, once assumed, becomes uncertain. And suddenly, the question of strength is no longer tied to the body, but to something else entirely. (chapter 96)

So we must ask again. If the giant can be reduced to paper, then perhaps the giant was never there to begin with. (chapter 96) Or perhaps it was never where Jinx-lovers were looking. Because if the Emperor is not the Giant, then the real one has yet to be named.

To approach this question, it is not enough to follow the fight itself. One must look elsewhere: at images that are destroyed as easily as they are produced, at voices that reshape the past in real time, and at the sequence of events that gradually transforms perception without ever appearing as a direct attack. Only by tracing these shifts—between what is shown, what is said, and what begins to disappear—can we begin to understand where power truly resides.

The Making of the Giant of Paper

Before it is destroyed, the image must first be made.

But this construction does not begin in the present. It has already taken place—earlier, more discreetly, and under different conditions. At that time, the narrative surrounding Baek Junmin followed a familiar pattern. (chapter 47) He was introduced as the “underdog,” the one rising unexpectedly, the figure whose ascent could be celebrated. The framing was simple, effective, and, to some extent, transparent. It invited attention, but it also raised suspicion.

There were signs. Voices questioned the legitimacy of the narrative (chapter 47) (chapter 47), suggesting that what appeared as spontaneous recognition might in fact be influenced, if not orchestrated. The idea that media coverage could be shaped (chapter 47) —financially or strategically—was not dismissed. It circulated, hesitantly, at the margins. Yet this suspicion remained limited in scope. It did not extend to the system itself. The integrity of the organization, and more specifically of the MFC, was not openly challenged. Instead, doubt was redirected toward the figure of the rising fighter. The question was not whether the structure produced the narrative, but whether Baek Junmin had benefited from it.

This distinction is crucial. By locating the potential manipulation at the level of the individual rather than the institution, the system remained intact, unquestioned, and therefore protected. What was perceived as irregularity did not lead to structural critique, but to localized suspicion. This also explicates why the main lead couldn’t find any information about Baek Junmin. (chapter 47) The system was not yet fully opaque. It could still be glimpsed—but only indirectly, through inconsistencies that were sensed rather than fully articulated.

The present situation is markedly different. As the match approaches, the same mechanisms reappear—but without resistance. The headlines no longer build an underdog (chapter 95); they reorganize an already established hierarchy. Joo Jaekyung is no longer presented as the stable center of the narrative. Instead, uncertainty surrounds him. One headline, in particular, reveals the logic at work with striking clarity:

“Joo Jaekyung’s sudden disqualification… is Baek Junmin at risk?”

At first glance, the headline appears contradictory. A disqualification, by definition, should settle a situation. It should close the case, eliminate ambiguity, and stabilize the hierarchy. And yet, here, it produces the opposite effect. This is not a simple inconsistency. It is a deliberate construction that operates on two temporal levels simultaneously.

On the one hand, the headline refers backward. By invoking a “sudden disqualification,” it reinterprets the past. What had previously been presented as a suspension — temporary (90 days), reversible, even later framed as recovery (chapter 57) — is now recoded as something definitive. (chapter 96) The shift is subtle but decisive. A suspension belongs to the logic of administration; a disqualification belongs to the logic of judgment. The suspension was grounded in medical authority. (chapter 52) It was issued by MFC doctors, as the incident took place there. It implies a temporary exclusion, a controlled interruption that does not fundamentally challenge legitimacy. The athlete remains inside—recognized, ranked, and, in principle, recoverable. Hence he was ranked as third in August. (chapter 69) A disqualification operates differently. (chapter 96) It does not merely suspend participation; it redefines status. It exceeds medical judgment and enters the domain of institutional authority. It relocates the athlete outside the system, not only temporarily but symbolically. What is questioned is no longer his presence, but his legitimacy. The issue is no longer whether he can compete, but whether he should have been recognized as a competitor at all.

This distinction is decisive. It points toward the involvement of the institutional hierarchy—figures such as the MFC CEO and those who operate alongside him. Hence his “invitation” for a match in Paris was never revealed to the public. (chapter 69) The panel from chapter 47 (chapter 47), makes this structure perceptible. The presence of executive figures, the proximity between management and select fighters, and the emphasis on “star quality” reveal a structure in which recognition is not solely determined by performance.

In this light, the shift in terminology acquires a broader significance. It does not simply reinterpret an event; it exposes the conditions under which decisions are made. The hierarchy of the organization is not neutral. It intervenes, adjusts, and, when necessary, redefines outcomes in order to preserve its own coherence.

By allowing the media to replace “suspension” with “disqualification,” the MFC does not intensify the punishment—it repositions the athlete. What had been a procedural measure becomes a moral and structural judgment. The shift authorizes a different interpretation of past events.

(chapter 95) In this sense, the change of terminology performs a protective function. If the situation remains a suspension, it can be contested. It leaves open the possibility of return, of reinstatement, and, crucially, of legal challenge. The athlete remains within the framework and can therefore claim rights—question prior decisions, contest irregularities, and potentially demand compensation.

A disqualification closes that space. By framing the exclusion as definitive and justified, it neutralizes the possibility of reclamation. It stabilizes the loss of the title by presenting it not as a consequence of circumstance, but as the logical outcome of misconduct. The narrative anticipates contestation and preempts it. It transforms a potentially disputable situation into one that appears settled.

This is where the broader context becomes relevant. The sequence of events—the unresolved tie (chapter 51), the irregularities surrounding the match, the incident with the switched spray—contains elements that could be reexamined. Joo Jaekyung’s public challenge in Paris reactivates these tensions. It signals not only resistance, but the possibility of escalation. By refusing to accept the existing narrative, he reopens questions that the system had already moved to close.

From this perspective, the headline does not simply report—it anticipates. (chapter 95) It prepares the ground for a conflict that has not yet fully emerged. By framing the situation as a disqualification and by presenting the athlete as a destabilizing figure, it redirects attention away from the structural irregularities and toward individual behavior. At the same time, it reassures those who depend on the system’s stability—sponsors, partners, and institutional actors—that the situation is under control.

The transformation of language thus serves a double function: it delegitimizes the athlete while protecting the structure. Moreover, if something were to happen again—another incident, another “sudden” event, it would not appear as an isolated occurrence, but as confirmation of an already established pattern. The result is a double bind. The past justifies suspicion, while the future is prepared to confirm it.

Within this structure, Baek Junmin occupies an equally unstable position. The question of risk does not truly endanger him; it legitimizes him indirectly. By presenting him as someone who could lose what he has gained, the headline acknowledges his status without fully affirming it. He is recognized, but conditionally. His position depends less on his own victory than on the continued framing of his opponent as problematic.

What appears, then, is not uncertainty in a general sense, but a controlled instability. The narrative does not aim to clarify the situation. It aims to maintain a tension in which one figure is constantly redefined as a potential threat, while the other is never entirely secured as a legitimate successor.

Even in apparent advantage, he is not affirmed. What is striking is that, even after his so-called victory, he continues to be referred to as the “underdog” (chapter 52), notably among the members of King of MMA. This persistence is not merely rhetorical; it reflects a deeper uncertainty regarding the legitimacy of his rise. Within the fighters’ own environment, the outcome of the match is not experienced as a clear victory. Baek Junmin himself acknowledges that he was “this close to winning,” (chapter 51) revealing that the tie has not been integrated as a legitimate conclusion. It persists instead as a wound: a result experienced not as confirmation, but as deprivation. In this sense, his current aggression does not only seek promotion; it seeks retrospective compensation.

The betting dynamics further reinforce this ambiguity. (chapter 52) While it is suggested that significant sums were placed on Baek Junmin, this perception proves misleading. The apparent support masks a more calculated position, in which the outcome itself—rather than the fighter—is the object of investment. The smile that accompanies the announcement of the tie reveals that the result was not a disruption, but a realization of expectation. (chapter 51) So he had not bet on the Shotgun’s victory.

This distinction is crucial. What appears as confidence in Baek Junmin is, in fact, confidence in the structure that produces the outcome. The fighter becomes the visible beneficiary of a system whose logic exceeds him, while the absence of a decisive victory prevents his recognition from stabilizing. He is supported, but not validated. The problem is not that he lost. The problem is that he never clearly won against Joo Jaekyung and that this unresolved result seems to have fixed him in a position of grievance.

In this light, the persistence of the “underdog” label is no longer paradoxical. It reflects the gap between institutional designation and experiential acknowledgment. This gap becomes even clearer when one recalls that Baek Junmin never earned the KOFC belt in the way Joo Jaekyung did. (chapter 75) The latter’s rise was marked by a visible title, publicly attached to his name and career trajectory. Baek Junmin, by contrast, occupies the position of champion without passing through the same symbolic sequence of recognition. All this time, he was working in the shadow, in the illegal underground fighting. What he inherits institutionally, he does not fully possess symbolically. He may occupy the position of champion, but the conditions of his ascent prevent that position from being fully recognized as legitimate. The label that once signified ascent is never replaced by one that would confirm his dominance. At the same time, his stage name The Shotgun (chapter 49) fails to establish itself. Neither his peers nor the media adopt it. Instead, he is consistently referred to by his real name: Baek Junmin. (chapter 95) This absence is not insignificant. In the world of competitive sports, a title or nickname is not merely decorative; it is a marker of recognition, a sign that an identity has been collectively validated. To name a fighter is to fix his position within the symbolic order of the sport. By refusing—or failing—to adopt his stage name, the media and his environment deny him that stabilization.

This absence of recognition is not limited to language; it extends to the level of the image. A champion, within the logic of modern sports media, is not only defined by a title but by the visual confirmation of that title. (chapter 52) Victory must be seen, fixed, and circulated in order to become real. In this respect, Baek Junmin’s position reveals a fundamental volability. His so-called victory does not produce a defining image. The match that secured his title was neither clearly decisive nor widely broadcast, leaving no shared visual reference through which his dominance could be established.

As a result, the media does not construct him as a figure. It names him, but does not show him. (chapter 95) It becomes more visible, if you contrast this show with the one about the celebrity in episode 52: (chapter 54) Instead, it continues to rely on the image of Joo Jaekyung. Even in defeat, the latter remains visually central: his body, his injuries, his presence provide the material through which the narrative is articulated. (chapter 95) The fallen champion supplies the image that the reigning one lacks. This imbalance has significant consequences.

Without a stable visual identity, Baek Junmin’s title remains abstract, insufficiently anchored in public perception. His victory does not become an event that can be collectively remembered, but a result that must be asserted repeatedly. In this sense, he occupies the position of champion without acquiring the symbolic legitimacy that would normally accompany it. He wins the position—but not the identity. He does not fight to win—he fights to be seen. And now, you comprehend why he did the interview on the day, the champion’s image got ruined. (chapter 96) The MFC may have declared him champion, yet this recognition remains institutional; it does not translate into collective acknowledgment among the masses. Hence he is never seen signing autographs. (chapter 93) He always appears sitting in the office separated from the other members. Hence, visibility must be manufactured for him to be recognized as a champion.

In doing so, it also redefines the role of Joo Jaekyung. Disqualified, he should disappear. Instead, he persists as a destabilizing presence—no longer a contender, but still a threat. His exclusion does not neutralize him; it transforms him into a figure whose very absence continues to structure the narrative. and the headlines with the sudden disqualification becomes a focal point. (chapter 96) Doubt replaces confidence. The questions posed are no longer about the rise of one fighter, but about the possible fall of another.

What is striking is not the content itself, but the absence of reaction. Where earlier moments revealed suspicion, the current ones are met with silence. Neither the fighters nor the surrounding figures openly challenge the narrative. (chapter 96) The possibility of manipulation, once acknowledged, is no longer articulated. It is as if the system no longer needs to hide. Its operations have become sufficiently integrated to function without being named.

It is within this context that the poster must be understood. (chapter 96) Its destruction does not initiate the process—it materializes it. What had been unfolding across media and digital spaces now appears in physical form. The gesture, however minimal, suggests a continuity between what is said and what is done. The narrative does not remain abstract; it produces effects.

And yet, this effect raises a deeper question about agency. At first glance, the figure associated with this transformation seems clear. Baek Junmin dominates the narrative space. His name circulates, his rise is emphasized, his position reinforced. It would be tempting, therefore, to identify him as the Giant—the one who displaces, replaces, and ultimately stands at the center of this reconfiguration.

But this identification does not hold. Because Baek Junmin does not control the narrative; he moves within it. He benefits from it, embodies it, and perhaps even believes in it—but he does not produce it. The coherence of the operation exceeds him. It extends across media outlets, digital platforms, and institutional structures that coordinate visibility, attention, and interpretation.

What emerges, then, is a different configuration of power. The Giant is not the figure that appears, but the structure that allows it to appear in a certain way. It is not located in the individual, but in the network that sustains and amplifies him. (chapter 95) Behind the visible face lies a set of interests that do not present themselves directly—economic, strategic, and, at times, illicit. The circulation of narratives is not neutral; it is tied to flows of capital, influence, and control that operate beyond the surface of the story.

In this sense, Baek Junmin is not the Giant, but its surface. (chapter 96) This becomes visible when one considers the asymmetry of representation between the two fighters. At Team Black, Joo Jaekyung’s presence is materially affirmed through the large poster displayed at the entrance. His image is fixed, visible, and collectively recognized. It establishes him not only as a champion, but as a figure whose status is publicly validated. (chapter 1) No such affirmation exists at the rival gym, King of MMA. That’s why Baek Junmin remains a champion on paper—validated by the system, but not embodied within it.

At the same time, this absence points beyond the individual. The figure that appears in the foreground conceals a more complex network of influence. Behind Baek Junmin stands not only the local structure of the gym (chapter 96), but also broader institutional connections (chapter 96), including corporate interests that extend beyond the immediate context of the sport. (chapter 48)

The image, then, is not missing by accident. Its absence reflects a displacement: what is not consolidated at the level of the individual is sustained elsewhere, within a network that organizes visibility without fully exposing itself. He gives it form, visibility, and direction—but the force that sustains it remains elsewhere, less visible, and therefore more difficult to confront.

The ruined poster (chapter 96), then, does more than signal the fragility of an image. It reveals the presence of a system capable of extending its influence from representation to action, from discourse to intervention—without ever fully exposing itself.

And yet, this configuration produces an unexpected reversal. The figure that appears largest—the one whose name circulates, whose presence dominates the narrative—is not the one that holds power. (chapter 96) Conversely, what truly determines the outcome remains largely unseen, operating through structures that do not present themselves directly. The opposition, then, is not between two equally visible figures, but between what can be perceived and what cannot, between a presence that can be attacked and a force that cannot be easily located. Under such conditions, the struggle cannot take the form it seems to promise.

And yet, this progression leads back to the initial question. Who is the Giant? If we must finally name the Giant, we find it is not a person, but an entity: Goliath. Yet, in this modern arena, the script of the ancient myth has been inverted. Unlike the biblical Goliath—a singular, towering physical presence—this Goliath is invisible and decentralized. It is a vast network of corporate interests, manipulated media headlines, and systemic corruption. The traditional ‘Giant’ is an easy target because of its scale, but the MFC remains untouchable precisely because it hides behind its ‘paper’ constructions. (chapter 11) It is a shadow that cannot be struck with a stone. However, this configuration reveals a fundamental weakness: the Giant is not just made of paper; it is rotting from within. If the foundation of the MFC is nourished by money laundering (chapter 48) and sustained by “paper companies,” then its strength is an illusion maintained by silence and complicity. In this light, the damaged poster in Chapter 96 (chapter 96) acts as a physical mirror for this hidden corruption. Just as the poster’s surface is scratched and its authority weakened, the system itself is rotting. The perpetrators here are not just sports managers; they are criminals operating under the guise of legitimacy—white-collar offenders hiding behind tax evasion and financial fraud.

This corruption signifies that the Giant’s power is entirely transactional. It exists only as long as the ‘papers’—the ledgers, the contracts, and the bribe receipts—remain hidden. The “paper” that grants the Giant its size is the same material that ensures its fragility. It implies that the removal of a single, strategic sheet—not a physical blow, but a structural one—could bring the entire edifice to collapse. In this light, the stone that brings down Goliath is not found in the ring, but in the hands of the law. A single police report (chapter 18), a testimony, a leak of financial records, or a documented truth becomes the only weapon capable of tearing through the Giant of Paper. To destroy the narrative, one does not fight the image; one strikes the ledger.

To conclude, the threat does not come from within the arena, but from outside it. Not from physical confrontation, but from the transformation of hidden records into acknowledged facts. The Giant of Paper does not collapse under force. It collapses when what sustains it can no longer remain concealed.

The Laughter That Rewrites a Life

So if Goliath is a “Giant of Paper” (Money and Shell Companies), then this interview is the “Ink.” The money laundering creates the Giant’s body, but Junmin’s laughter and rewritten history provide the Giant’s “skin”, the part the public sees. What unfolds in the interview is not a spontaneous outburst, nor the crude provocation of a rival seeking attention. It is something far more controlled. The tone oscillates between mockery and composure (chapter 96), between laughter and measured statements (chapter 96), as if two registers were deliberately intertwined. On the surface, Baek Junmin performs the role expected of him: the confident fighter, amused, dismissive, superior. The smirk, the laughter, the casual insults (chapter 96) — these elements construct an image of dominance that appears almost effortless. (chapter 96) And yet, beneath this performance, another layer becomes visible. The vocabulary shifts. The insults become structured. (chapter 96) The accusation of an “inferiority complex” does not belong to the same register as the crude remarks that surround it. It introduces a clinical tone, one that suggests interpretation rather than reaction. This is not the language of impulse. It is the language of framing.

This shift is not accidental. It indicates preparation. Baek Junmin does not speak as an isolated fighter improvising under pressure. His discourse bears the marks of prior construction, as if it had been shaped, filtered, and calibrated before being delivered. (chapter 96) This physical evasion—the refusal to meet the gaze of the lens—suggests a speaker who is not recounting a memory, but reciting a script. The ‘clinical’ term is a foreign object in his mouth, a tool handed to him by the ‘Giant’ behind the scenes. The alternation between vulgar insults and quasi-medical terminology creates a carefully controlled ambiguity: what is said can wound, but cannot be easily prosecuted. The insults remain indirect, the claims remain interpretative, and the responsibility is constantly displaced.

In this sense, the interview operates within a legally protected gray zone. It is not pure defamation, because it avoids explicit false statements that could be challenged in court. (chapter 96) Instead, it relies on suggestion, selective truth, and reframed memory. The figure speaking appears spontaneous, but the structure of his speech reveals constraint. Someone, somewhere, has ensured that the line is never fully crossed: lawyers, doctors… (chapter 96) Crucially, the author employs a recurring visual metaphor to mark the boundary between Baek Junmin’s calculation (chapter 96) and his true self. Whenever he is forced into restraint—when he must deliver the scripted, empathetic lie—his eyes are firmly shut (Chapter 96). As he claims his heart was ‘broken’ by the disqualification, he physically blinds himself to the truth of his own joy, locking his real expression behind his eyelids to maintain the professional mask. The public sees only his calculated composition.

This contrasts sharply with his open-eyed laughter elsewhere (Chapter 96). In this moment, the mask slips completely. His eyes are wide, his face is true to itself, and his smile let transpire pure disdain. Here, he reveals to the audience that he is no real friend. His words about Jaekyung’s ‘growth’ become an act of deep condensation. The closed eyes represent the restraint required to lie, but the open, mocking face is the true reflection of his contempt. However, the script lets transpire that he is the one suffering from a huge inferiority complex. (chapter 96)

This is where the role of the surrounding structure becomes visible. The discourse does not only protect the speaker; it protects those behind him. The gym, its backers, and the wider network that sustains him remain shielded. What is exposed is the target; what remains invisible is the mechanism that enables the attack.

The laughter, then, is not simply mockery. (chapter 96) It is part of the strategy. It softens the accusation, disguises intent, and transforms aggression into performance. It allows the speaker to say what must be said—while appearing not to say it at all.

This duality is essential. It allows the discourse to operate in a gray zone where it can neither be dismissed as pure aggression nor fully challenged as a verifiable claim. By alternating between vulgarity and pseudo-analysis, the speaker protects himself. The laughter and smile disarm, the terminology legitimizes. What emerges is a narrative that can circulate freely without exposing itself to direct contestation. It resembles testimony, yet avoids accountability. In this sense, the interview does not simply attack; it reorganizes.

The past becomes its primary terrain.

Rather than confronting Joo Jaekyung in the present, the discourse moves backward (chapter 96), selecting fragments of childhood and reassembling them into a coherent but partial story. Absence is introduced where complexity once existed. (chapter 96) The mother disappears, reduced to a simple fact—“he had no mom”—as if this absence were self-explanatory, requiring no further inquiry. The father is not mentioned at all. With this omission, an entire dimension of the champion’s history is removed, along with the implications it carries. What remains is a simplified figure, detached from lineage, stripped of context, and therefore easier to redefine. This absence becomes all the more striking, when one recalls that Baek Junmin only began interacting with the main lead after the death of his father, himself a former boxer. (chapter 74) The omission cannot therefore be reduced to coincidence. It suggests either a lack of knowledge regarding this dimension of the past, or a deliberate decision to leave it unaddressed. In both cases, the effect is the same: a crucial element of the champion’s formation is excluded from the narrative, preventing any recognition of continuity, inheritance, or transmission.

The moment his existence becomes publicly acknowledged, the narrative constructed by Baek Junmin begins to collapse. What was presented as a story of weakness and isolation is recontextualized through lineage and inherited proximity to the world of fighting. Even if the father did not train him—and indeed opposed boxing—his presence reintroduces continuity where the interview imposed rupture. At the same time, at no moment, the Shotgun brought up the physical abuse from Joo Jaewoong, so Baek Junmin’s hypocrisy gets exposed (“It breaks my heart…”). Besides, this revelation risks extending beyond the individual case. It reopens the question of the structural links between combat sports and illicit networks (chapter 73), a connection that the narrative had carefully displaced. What appears as a personal account thus becomes unstable, exposing not only its own inconsistencies, but the broader system it sought to conceal.

But let’s return our attention to the Champion in Paper. The latter inserts himself into that past. (chapter 96) He becomes the one who “looked out for him,” the one who was followed, the one who observed, judged, and ultimately surpassed. The relationship is rewritten as hierarchical and unilateral. He was the hyung who knew everything better, and Joo Jaekyung was just stubborn. (chapter 96) What might have been coexistence becomes dependence. What might have been proximity becomes subordination. In doing so, Baek Junmin does not merely diminish the other; he constructs himself as the necessary reference point through which that past can be understood.

And yet, this reconstruction is unstable.

Because it encounters a form of resistance that does not depend on counter-speech, but on the persistence of verifiable traces. (chapter 71) The photograph of the young fighter with his coach introduces a contradiction that the interview cannot fully absorb. It does not merely suggest discipline or continuity; it attests to a process that precedes and exceeds the narrative imposed upon it. The trajectory it reveals is not incidental, nor dependent on a single relationship, but anchored in duration, training, and transmission.

This contradiction is reinforced by another element. On the night of his father’s death, Joo Jaekyung had already won his first boxing tournament (chapter 73). This detail is decisive. It establishes that his development was already underway, and that his formation cannot be reduced to the simplified account presented in the interview. It also repositions Hwang Byungchul. Far from being the negligible or ineffective figure implied indirectly by the discourse, he appears as part of a structure that enabled this early progression.

What emerges, then, is not simply an alternative narrative, but the presence of a witness. A successful coach and gym owner (chapter 71) , the tournament, the documented progression—these elements introduce points of verification that resist the logic of selective reconstruction. The past is not entirely available for reinterpretation; parts of it remain anchored in events, relations, and figures that can contradict the imposed version. On the other hand, the Champion in Paper has only his recollection as evidence which is based on the narration of others.

This is precisely what Baek Junmin fails to account for. His discourse is structured by comparison and hierarchy, focused on the figure of the main lead as an isolated reference point. In doing so, it overlooks the broader network of relations within which that figure was formed. The result is a narrative that appears coherent, but rests on an incomplete—and therefore unstable—foundation.

This is precisely what the interview seeks to neutralize. By reducing the past to a series of humiliating details—isolation, poverty, neglect, weakness—it transforms development into deficiency. The years of training disappear behind anecdote. Dedication is replaced by ridicule. The champion is no longer someone who became strong, but someone who was once weak. The temporal movement is inverted. Growth no longer leads forward despite his claim, (chapter 96); it is used to anchor the subject in a diminished origin that can be continuously recalled and reactivated.

In this sense, the strategy aligns with the earlier shift from suspension to disqualification. It is not enough to destabilize the present; the past must also be rewritten. Only then can the figure be fully redefined. And yet, this operation produces an unintended effect.

By insisting on hierarchy, by constantly positioning himself above, Baek Junmin reveals the very limitation that structures his discourse. He can only define himself in relation to another. He only knows one world: social darwinism, while Mingwa via Shin Okja and the landlord are promoting “mutual aid”. His identity depends on comparison (chapter 96), on opposition, on the maintenance of a vertical order in which he occupies the superior position. This is why the notion of “inferiority complex” becomes central. It is projected outward, attributed to the other (chapter 96), but it simultaneously exposes the logic that governs his own position. Without that hierarchy, his discourse loses its foundation.

This dependency explains why his recognition remains incomplete. Despite the visibility granted by the interview, despite the circulation of his name and statements, he does not acquire a stable identity as champion. He is present everywhere, yet never fully constituted. The system amplifies his voice, but does not anchor his image. He speaks, but does not replace. The absence noted earlier persists. His figure remains suspended, contingent on the very narrative he helps to produce.

This is where the notion of a Pyrrhic victory becomes relevant. (chapter 96)

The attempt to destroy the opponent’s image does not result in consolidation, but in exposure. By bringing the past into public discourse, by mobilizing language that exceeds his own register, by aligning himself so visibly with a broader narrative apparatus, Baek Junmin reveals the conditions that sustain him. The interview does not conceal the system; it makes it perceptible. The coordination between discourse, timing, and prior events—such as the vandalized poster (chapter 96) —suggests an operation that extends beyond the individual. What was meant to appear as personal testimony begins to resemble a structured intervention.

Even the proximity to cyberbullying operates within this ambiguity. (chapter 95) The content humiliates, distorts, and circulates widely, yet it remains carefully calibrated. It avoids direct falsification, relies on selective truth, and frames interpretation as opinion. This positioning allows it to evade legal accountability while maximizing its effect. The attack is real, but its form protects it from being easily named as such.

In the end, the interview does not establish Baek Junmin as the Giant.

It confirms his role within the system that produces the Giant. He acts, speaks, and provokes, but the coherence of the operation does not originate with him. It passes through him. And in doing so, it exposes both his intention and his limitation. He seeks recognition through destruction, but what he ultimately reveals is the structure that makes such destruction possible.

The Echo of Laughter: When Others Begin to See

The interview does not end with the one who speaks. (chapter 96) What is said circulates, settles, and reaches those who were never meant to be its primary audience. Its impact is not measured by its accuracy, but by the way it interferes with existing perceptions. It does not simply construct a narrative; it tests how that narrative will be received, absorbed, or resisted. In this sense, its true effect becomes visible only when it encounters those who carry fragments of the past it attempts to rewrite.

The Bad Coach and his Dump Gym

For Hwang Byungchul, this encounter produces a rupture. Until this moment, his position had been defined by distance and partial understanding. He had witnessed certain events, sensed irregularities, and yet never fully questioned the structure within which they occurred. His interpretation of the past remained localized, focused on individual decisions (chapter 74) rather than systemic conditions. Thus he accepted that his body as a fighter got so damaged. (chapter 71) And he did not have a physical therapist back then either. The interview disrupts this equilibrium. By erasing his role (chapter 96) —by reducing the champion’s formation to failure, neglect, or insignificance—it forces a confrontation the coach had previously avoided.

Baek Junmin’s words disturb that stability in another aspect: the champion’s mother. For Hwang Byungchul, her absence had long been integrated into a tragic but coherent explanation. She had left (chapter 72), yes, but she had reasons. The father was violent, the household unstable, and escape could therefore be understood as a form of necessity. In this interpretation, the mother’s departure remained painful, but intelligible. What he failed to ask, however, was the decisive question: if she left to save herself, why did she leave the child behind? Why was the boy not taken with her? For him, absence did not mean abandonment. He still had a positive vision of the mother: caring and selfless. (chapter 74) The interview brutalizes this unresolved contradiction by collapsing it into a simpler formula: (chapter 96) That statement is false in one sense, since Hwang Byungchul knew she existed, but it also exposes the existential truth he had failed to confront. The child may have had a mother in biography, yet he was lived and treated as if he had none. What Hwang Byungchul had accepted as abandonment with reasons now reappears as a far more troubling failure of protection.

The same pattern returns in his understanding of bullying. Hwang Byungchul had once witnessed mockery (chapter 72) and humiliation directed at the young fighter. But he interpreted it as an isolated incident, something that could be resolved by intervention, discipline, or the simple restoration of order. (chapter 72) In doing so, he mistook a visible moment for the whole of the problem. He overlooked the impact on the little boy’s soul. What Baek Junmin reveals—despite his malicious intentions—is that (chapter 96) this mockery was not occasional. It was structural. It became a gossip. The insults about smell, weakness, dependency, and social inferiority do not describe a single event; they evoke an entire environment in which the child was continuously reduced, laughed at, and pushed to the margins. The director of the gym had believed that stopping one episode meant ending the problem. The interview forces a more painful recognition: he had not grasped that ridicule was not an interruption in the boy’s life, but one of its formative conditions.

This is why I believe that the interview must have affected him so deeply. Sure, he might have felt insulted by such comments, (chapter 96) Yet, Baek Junmin’s statement compels the former coach to revisit the foundations of his own understanding. He had totally misjudged the mother, his image of her was influenced by his own projection and experience. Thus he had not grasped the champion’s suffering: the longing for his mother and her betrayal. The bullying he had witnessed, he had not truly measured. The ruthlessness he later attributed to the champion(chapter 71), as if it were an exceptional trait now begins to look like the product of a much longer history of humiliation, abandonment, and misrecognition.

In this sense, Baek Junmin’s version does not become powerful because it is true. (chapter 96) It becomes dangerous because it exploits gaps that were already there. Hwang Byungchul is not destabilized by a complete fabrication, but by a narrative that twists fragments of reality he himself had once simplified. The interview therefore produces a delayed crisis of interpretation. It reveals that what he took for explanation had often been only a way of stopping inquiry too soon.

What is at stake for him is not merely recognition, but responsibility. The narrative he hears does not simply contradict his experience; it exposes its limits. What he once perceived as isolated incidents now appears as part of a larger configuration he failed to grasp. The figure he believed he understood is re-presented in a way that both distorts and reveals. In this tension, a new possibility emerges: not the recovery of a stable truth, but the realization that his previous certainty was incomplete.

This delayed recognition extends even further. Until now, Hwang Byungchul had been confronted with a fact he could not fully explain: Joo Jaekyung never contacted him. (chapter 71) Not once. Despite the years of training, despite the shared history, despite the role he himself believed to have played (chapter 74), the champion had cut all contact without explanation. This absence had remained unresolved, almost suspended—something to be accepted, but not truly understood. Hence he became resentful.

The interview alters that. By reconstructing a childhood marked not by isolated hardship (chapter 96) but by continuous ridicule, it introduces a new interpretative frame. The gym, which Hwang Byungchul had perceived as a place of discipline and formation, reappears under a different light. It was also a space where the young fighter had been exposed, diminished, and observed by others without protection. But furthermore, the mockery existed outside that environment and Hwang Byungchul had no idea about it.

This realization produces a shift that is both subtle and decisive. The silence of Joo Jaekyung no longer appears as distance, indifference, or ingratitude. It becomes legible as avoidance. Not of the coach as an individual, but of everything he represents: a place, a period, a configuration of relationships in which humiliation and growth were inseparably intertwined.

In this sense, the absence of contact is no longer a mystery. It is a continuation. What the interview does, then, is not simply distort the past. It forces Hwang Byungchul to recognize his own shortcomings. The bond he believed to exist was real—but it was not the only one. Alongside discipline and effort, there had always been something else: exposure, vulnerability, and the gaze of others.

The Grandmother’s Hero

If the interview unsettles Hwang Byungchul by forcing him to reinterpret the past, its effect on Shin Okja can only follow a darker, more intimate path. It does not invite analytical distance; it collapses distance altogether.

The words about the absent mother resonate with a haunting familiarity. For Shin Okja, (chapter 96) is not a piece of news; it is a recognizable configuration of suffering. (chapter 65) The simplified narrative offered by Baek Junmin aligns too easily with her own history of hardship. But this immediacy has a cost. By recognizing the pain, she risks accepting the distorted framework through which it is presented.

The Collapse of the “Best Effort” Myth

This recognition forces a reassessment of her own narrative. For years, Shin Okja’s internal conviction was built on a single idea: she had done her best to raise Kim Dan (chapter 65), even if it was never enough. Her role was defined by sacrifice, by the necessity to protect and sustain the “child” she still perceives in him—someone to be fed, guided, and contained rather than allowed to stand fully on his own.

Baek Junmin’s account destabilizes this framework. (chapter 96) By presenting a version of Joo Jaekyung who grew up without stable protection—without consistent care—the interview challenges the assumption that such protection is the decisive condition for survival. If the celebrity was once weak, isolated, and exposed, yet became the strong and composed figure she now sees, then his development cannot be fully explained through the model she has relied on. One could say that to Shin Okja, the black wolf is a “Giant of Flesh and Bone”—someone whose strength is real—which makes her realize that her grandson, and her own history, have been built on “Paper.” (the pictures of Kim Dan’s childhood).

At the same time, this confrontation extends beyond Joo Jaekyung and returns to Shin Okja’s own past. For years, she had described Kim Dan as an orphan—a term that appears factual, but in reality simplifies a far more complex history. The photographs contradict this reduction. (chapter 94) They attest to the existence of parents, of a prior life, of relationships that were not entirely erased but quietly set aside.

In this sense, Shin Okja did not simply care for Kim Dan; she also reshaped the narrative of his childhood. By presenting him as an orphan, she created a version of the past that was more coherent, more manageable, and easier to endure. In other words, she rewrote the past out of guilt and “protection”. The ambiguity surrounding his parents—their absence, their responsibility, their place in his life—was not explored, but neutralized.

This alteration, however, is not without contradiction. While Shin Okja presents Kim Dan’s past as one of absence, the present remains marked by a persistent trace: debts. Unlike Joo Jaekyung, who endured poverty but was not bound by it, Kim Dan’s life is structured by an obligation he cannot escape. (chapter 7)

This aspect is notably absent from her own account. When she speaks of the past on the beach, she evokes hardship, sacrifice, and endurance, yet she avoids addressing the existence of this burden. (chapter 65) The debt is not mentioned; it is simply endured. In doing so, its cause is displaced, if not entirely obscured.

But debt is never neutral. It implies a prior history, a chain of decisions and responsibilities that cannot be reduced to absence. In this sense, it contradicts the narrative of orphanhood she has constructed. It suggests that the past was not erased, but transformed into a silent obligation carried into the present.

The interview reactivates this contradiction. (chapter 96) By reducing Joo Jaekyung’s childhood to a simplified narrative of poverty and abandonment, it mirrors the very mechanism through which Shin Okja has spoken about Kim Dan. Yet the presence of debt prevents such simplification from holding entirely. It anchors the past in the present, making it impossible to maintain a version of events in which nothing preceded her care.

Baek Junmin’s interview reactivates this suppressed dimension. By reducing Joo Jaekyung to a child “without a mother,” it reproduces the very mechanism Shin Okja herself had employed. The parallel is difficult to ignore. What appears as manipulation in one case reflects a similar simplification in the other.

Taking Strength for Granted

This realization forces Shin Okja to confront a dimension of Kim Dan’s past she had long underestimated. When he was hurt, her response had always been immediate and absolute: to reassure him, to remain by his side, to insist that her presence was enough. (chapter 57) It was not only a gesture of comfort; it was a conviction. It implied that the absence of others could be compensated by her own care.

But this belief now reveals its limits. Kim Dan’s suffering was not confined to the private sphere. It extended into the social space, where absence became stigma (chapter 57), and where being “different” invited mockery and exclusion. What Shin Okja had perceived as a problem of loneliness was also a problem of exposure and humiliation.

In this sense, her care did not eliminate the wound; it coexisted with it. She protected him from being alone, but not from being seen by others in a way that diminished him. The interview reactivates this overlooked dimension. By describing Joo Jaekyung as a child who was mocked and reduced, it forces her to recognize that Kim Dan may have endured something similar—even while she believed she had protected him. (chapter 57) And exactly like the director of the gym, what she imagined as a single incident, was not. It followed the main lead constantly.

This realization reveals the limits of her perspective. Shin Okja had taken Joo Jaekyung’s strength as something self-evident. (chapter 21) She perceived him as a finished figure—healthy, solid, and self-sufficient—without questioning the conditions that made such stability possible. Even when she turned toward him with warmth (chapter 94), her perception remained structured by Kim Dan. She acknowledged his place beside her grandson, but not the history that had formed him. She had never asked him any question in the end.

A dissonance emerges. If a child can grow up and become strong without the form of protection she considers essential, then the meaning of her own care becomes uncertain. (chapter 65) The question shifts: not whether she cared, but how that care has shaped the one who received it.

The contrast takes on the form of a mirror. Kim Dan continues to struggle with basic acts such as eating (chapter 94), withdrawing under pressure rather than sustaining himself. While Jaekyung’s strength appears to have been forged under conditions of absence, Kim Dan’s fragility seems to persist within the structure of her presence.

In this sense, the interview does not only reshape her perception of Joo Jaekyung. It fractures the image she had constructed of her own life. For years, she had organized her story around sacrifice. She had done her best, endured hardship, and carried responsibility for Kim Dan. This narrative gave coherence to her actions. But the existence of another child—equally abandoned, yet differently formed—introduces a contradiction she can no longer ignore.

It displays her own shortcomings as well.

Not as a lack of care, but as a limit in perception. She acted, protected, and endured, but without fully questioning the effects of her own form of care. In doing so, she may have replaced one form of absence with another form of dependency.

The Hesitation of the Heart

Shin Okja does not reject the narrative, but she can no longer fully accept her own. The interview generates a space of hesitation—a subtle but decisive shift in which the image she had constructed begins to destabilize. For the first time, the narrative does not pass through her unchanged.

The interview sought to fix Joo Jaekyung’s meaning as a failure. Instead, it unsettles the foundation of Shin Okja’s identity as a caregiver. By exposing the champion’s past vulnerability, Baek Junmin unintentionally reveals the limits of her own understanding. The laughter that accompanies the discourse continues to circulate (chapter 96), but for Shin Okja, it no longer confirms anything. It becomes a source of volability.

And within that uncertainty lies a consequence that has yet to unfold. The past she had simplified can no longer remain closed. What was once presented as settled now demands to be reconsidered. The interview does not simply alter her perception of Joo Jaekyung—it compels her to reopen the question she had avoided: the story of Kim Dan’s parents, and the truth she chose not to tell.

The Hamster, The Stone and The Giant

If the earlier parts exposed how the image is constructed, manipulated, and weaponized, the final movement begins where all structures fail: in the body. Kim Dan’s injured hand is not a minor detail. (chapter 96) It marks the collapse of his function. Up to this point, his position remained stable precisely because it was limited. He could stay at Joo Jaekyung’s side (chapter 96) without confronting what that presence truly meant, because he occupied a role. He was the physical therapist. His gestures, his proximity, his care—all of it could be justified, contained, and, above all, depersonalized.

The injury disrupts this equilibrium. Without his hand, he can no longer act. He can no longer treat, no longer intervene, no longer define himself through usefulness. The role disappears, and with it, the distance it maintained. What remains is no longer a function, but a presence. No longer a professional relation, but a personal one. At this point, concealment becomes impossible. Because what had remained unspoken now demands articulation. If he is no longer “needed” as a therapist, then why does he remain? And if he chooses to remain, on what grounds?

For the first time, Kim Dan cannot rely on necessity. He must decide.

The Two Triangles: A Structure That Must Be Chosen

When you look at my illustration, you will realize that I added a star on the physical therapist’s shirt. The addition of the star on the therapist’s uniform is more than a “badge of office”; it is a geometric prophecy. It represents the intertwining of two disparate lives—the red triangle of Jaekyung’s force and the blue triangle of Dan’s empathy. When these two triangles overlap, they create a structure (The Star) that is far more stable than the ‘Paper Giant’ of the MFC. This star is naturally a reference to the star of David. But at the same time, I wanted to avoid any reference to religion as such. The star of David is created by 2 triangles intertwined together. And the moment you accept that each main lead represents one triangle, you realize that both can become the star of David, once they become a team and a couple.

Until now, the connection between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan existed, but it remained indirect. It was sustained through intermediaries, through roles, through asymmetries that prevented true alignment. Joo Jaekyung’s red triangle was defined by force, hierarchy, and isolation. Kim Dan’s by care, dependency, and containment. The two structures intersected, but they did not yet stabilize into a shared configuration.

The injured hand alters this balance. (chapter 96)

It removes Kim Dan from the passive stability of his role and forces movement. He can no longer remain the one who adapts, who follows, who responds. He must now step into the point of intersection—the space where both triangles meet. And this space is not given. It must be chosen.

At this stage, Shin Okja’s position becomes decisive. (chapter 94) Throughout the narrative, she functioned as a center of gravity, bringing both structures into contact without resolving them. She connected, but she also maintained separation—protecting, guiding, and, at times, limiting.

Now, this role shifts.

By confronting her own shortcomings—by recognizing both the limits of her protection and the reality she had obscured—she no longer holds Kim Dan in place. Instead, she allows for movement. Not through direct intervention, but through the collapse of her previous certainty. She does not create the union. But she makes it possible.

David Against the Giant

Within this configuration, the opposition can now be clearly defined. The Giant is not Joo Jaekyung. It is not really Baek Junmin. It is the structure that produces images, controls narratives, and sustains itself through circulation—media, institutions, capital, operating without a single visible center. It is Goliath.

Not because it is singular, but because it is diffuse, difficult to locate, and nearly impossible to confront directly. Against it stands not a figure of strength, but a transformation of position. Kim Dan does not oppose the Giant through force. He has none. His injured hand marks precisely this limitation. He cannot act within the logic imposed by the system.,

And yet, this limitation redefines the confrontation. Because David does not prevail by matching strength. He prevails by refusing the conditions under which strength is measured. The ‘hamster’—Dan’s symbolic identity—is the stone that brings down Goliath. Not because it strikes a blow, but because it represents a pure relation (family and companionship) that the corporate system cannot monetize or understand. Goliath falls because he cannot compute the value of a love that requires no ‘function.'”This is where Joo Jaekyung becomes decisive. (chapter 88) The “hamster” is not an isolated symbol. It has been shaped in relation to Joo Jaekyung—through proximity, through tension, through a form of attention that is neither hierarchical nor purely functional. If Kim Dan embodies connection, Joo Jaekyung embodies determination and direction. (chapter 94) What emerges between them is not dependency, but a potential alignment. That’s the reason why I believe that contrary to that morning (chapter 96), Kim Dan might decide to follow Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 96) Is it a coincidence that his pajamas are black and white, the two colors of the yin and yang?

Kim Dan’s decision—to remain, to speak, to step forward without the protection of his role—is therefore not an individual gesture. It is the moment where both trajectories intersect. He does not act as a therapist. He does not act as someone who is “needed.” He acts without function. He becomes the hamster, and as such the companion and family. And this changes the terms entirely.

Because the system depends on roles: the fighter, the doctor, the champion, the underdog. These roles can be named, framed, circulated, and manipulated. They can be turned into headlines, into narratives, into images. But what cannot be easily captured is a relation that escapes these definitions.

And now, let me ask you this: what does Joo Jaekyung desire from Kim Dan in the end? To be looked at (chapter 96) and as such to be loved, something his mother never did. (chapter 73) Even with an injured hand, he can do this. As you can see, I am full of hope.

From Laughter to Meaning

At this point, the motif of laughter undergoes a decisive transformation. Until now, laughter functioned as a weapon. (chapter 96) It diminished, exposed, and rewrote. In Baek Junmin’s discourse, it accompanied the reconstruction of the past, turning memory into ridicule and experience into spectacle. What he did not know is that he was acting like Joo Jaewoong. (chapter 73) His words are punctuated by smirks, interruptions, and mockery. The childhood he evokes is not one of growth or development, but of humiliation, hierarchy, and control. (chapter 96)

What is striking, however, is what is absent. (chapter 96) There is no trace of joy, only resent. No trace of play. No trace of shared experience (chapter 96) that would give meaning to the past beyond domination. Everything is reduced to struggle, inferiority, and dependence. Childhood, in his account, is not a space of formation, but a field of comparison.

This absence is not insignificant. It reveals a fundamental limitation. As Aristotle suggests, Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work. (chapter 88) Without it, action becomes mechanical, external, and ultimately unsustainable. What is done without pleasure cannot reach completion, because it remains detached from the subject who performs it. (chapter 95)

In this light, Baek Junmin’s narrative exposes its own failure. He speaks of training (chapter 96), of hierarchy, of superiority—but never of enjoyment. His relationship to fighting is entirely structured by comparison and domination. It is something to win, to prove, to impose—not something to inhabit. As a result, his position remains fundamentally unstable. He can occupy the role of champion, but he cannot embody it. He performs strength, but does not internalize it. His smile contrasts so much to the champion’s after his first victory. (chapter 73)

This is why his laughter remains empty. (chapter 96) It is directed outward, against the main lead and others, and depends entirely on their diminishment. It cannot sustain itself. It requires a target. In contrast, Kim Dan is associated with a different form of laughter. (chapter 27) The hamster—seemingly insignificant—represents companionship, warmth, and a form of joy that does not depend on hierarchy or recognition.

This laughter is not directed at someone. It is shared. And this distinction is decisive. Because it introduces a form of meaning that cannot be produced or controlled by the system. It cannot be staged, monetized, or weaponized. It exists outside the logic of visibility that governs the Giant. At this stage, the opposition is no longer between two fighters, but between two forms of value:

one that circulates, amplifies, and consumes
and one that connects, sustains, and transforms

The End of the Circle, The Beginning of Another

Episode 96 marks the closure of a cycle. (chapter 96) The athlete voiced his distress, exhaustion and loneliness. The mechanisms that structured the previous movement—manipulation, narrative control, role-based identity—reach their limit. The image is destabilized, the past is rewritten, the system becomes visible.

But this closure does not conclude the movement. It opens a threshold. (chapter 96)

What follows does not extend what came before. It interrupts it. And this new cycle does not begin with a fight. It begins with a decision. The question is no longer external. It cannot be delegated, postponed, or reframed. Should he follow the champion’s words—or respond to what those words conceal? (chapter 96) “I want you to stay!” To obey the word is to remain a servant; to hear the silence behind the word is to become a partner.

Because Joo Jaekyung’s command to leave is not neutral. (chapter 96) It’s the consequence of pain, it belongs to the logic of rupture, of protection through distance, of a structure that resolves tension by separation. To obey would be to repeat the past—to accept absence as the only possible form of resolution. To follow the athlete, however, would be something else entirely. Not obedience to his words, but an understanding of what they conceal. Not submission, but a deliberate alignment: an act of commitment. A decision to remain—not because he is told to, but because he chooses to.

The Giant remains. The structure persists. But for the first time, it is no longer the only force shaping the outcome. Because David has entered the field. Not as a figure of opposition. But as a position that refuses to be absorbed.

PS: My prediction is that the doctor goes to the bathroom, where the athlete is! A new version of this scene, but here, the roles would be switched. (chapter 30) Let’s not forget that the champion’s “jinx” is linked to the smell, something which Baek Junmin revealed earlier. (chapter 96)

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: Tactile ✊ Dissonance: When Touch Falls Out of Sync

SMACK

It begins with a gesture that is refused. (chapter 96) A hand reaches out to continue what is not yet finished. Kim Dan tries to stop the champion, to maintain the contact, to complete the treatment. (chapter 96) The response is immediate: Joo Jaekyung pushes the hand away.

This gesture is brief, but not accidental. What is interrupted here is not simply a movement, but a relation. A touch meant to relieve tension does not create connection. It remains limited to the body, without opening any space in which the burden itself might be shared. Between intention and response, between movement and meaning, something falls out of sync. But let me ask you this. When does such a misalignment begin? Is it in the gesture itself, or long before it?

When I first composed the illustration Tactile Dissonance , episode 96 had not yet been released. That’s why the gesture in the picture is not included. Yet I had already sensed the coming rupture. I was not working from an abstract impression alone. Two specific scenes were already guiding my thinking: the one on the beach, where Kim Dan and Joo Jaekyung share a quieter, more immediate form of proximity (chapter 95), and the one in the office, where Park Namwook places his hand on the champion’s shoulder and directs him once more toward performance. (chapter 95) Both scenes belonged to episode 95, and together they already announced a growing dissonance.

Two spaces seemed to coexist without fully meeting. One was structured, directive, and oriented toward control and performance. (chapter 95) The other was quieter, grounded in proximity, shared time, and a more fragile sense of presence. (chapter 95) They did not openly clash, but they did not align either.

Seen in this light, chapter 96 does not introduce the disturbance. It makes visible what episode 95 had already begun to prepare. Now that episode 96 has been released, many readers perceive something familiar. They speak of a return, of repetition, of the “old” Joo Jaekyung resurfacing. Why? Because they adopt Kim Dan’s perspective. (chapter 96) From where he stands, the words and gesture appear as rejection, and the scene seems to confirm an old pattern. (chapter 96)

But is it really a return? What appears to be continuity may in fact be something else coming into view. Not a simple regression, but the surfacing of a misalignment that had already begun to emerge between those two earlier scenes. What chapter 96 reveals is not merely anger, but a growing lack of synchrony between different meanings of touch.

This disturbance does not remain confined to a single gesture. Once perceived, it begins to reappear elsewhere (chapter 95): in what is missing, in what is delayed, in what no longer coincides. A presence that is no longer acknowledged. (chapter 95) A response that arrives too late. (chapter 95) A touch that relieves tension, but does not invite the burden to be shared. (chapter 96) A hand placed on a shoulder as if the body itself could once again be used to solve what language, trust, or recognition have failed to address. (chapter 95) Nothing overtly breaks, and yet continuity begins to loosen.

Where, then, does this disturbance become perceptible? In absence? In timing? In the way bodies approach (chapter 95) — or fail to?

To follow this movement, we need to look more closely at what does not immediately impose itself: the gaps between exchanges, the intervals between actions, the subtle shifts that gradually alter how each scene holds together.

Absence Before Intrusion

The disturbance does not begin with noise. It begins with something much more unsettling: silence and absence.

When we examine the first scene in the office from episode 95, Joo Jaekyung is not surrounded. (chapter 95) There is no entourage (chapter 36), no managers, no advisors (chapter 47), no representatives from the entertainment agency (chapter 81). And yet, we know this moment matters: the match is approaching, the stakes are high, the narrative around him is already circulating. He only has 10 days left.

So we have to pause. Where is everyone? (chapter 95) In earlier moments, this kind of preparation was never solitary. There were always voices, intermediaries, people whose role was precisely to frame, manage, and anticipate what was coming. But here, none of them are present. Not even Yosep. And the latter was already absent in the meeting before the match in Paris.

At the gym, he is nowhere to be seen that day. (chapter 95) It becomes even more obvious, if you compare the sparring between the champion and Oh Daehyun (chapter 95) and the one in episode 1, where the other partner got injured. (chapter 1) He rushed to the injured fighter. But in episode 95, he is invisible. No explanation, no transition. His absence is not emphasized—and yet, it echoes. Especially if we recall episode 46, where he was on the verge of being sent out (chapter 46), tasked with gathering information, while Park Namwook positioned himself as the director of Team Black: (chapter 46) This detail is not incidental. It establishes a division of roles that is directly connected to a larger structure: the network linking gyms and the MFC. This network is not hypothetical; it is explicitly confirmed in episode 49 (chapter 49), when Choi Gilseok asks Park Namwook why he was absent from the Seoul managers’ meeting. In other words, coordination between gyms and directors is not occasional—it is organized, expected, and institutionalized.

If we return to episode 95 with this in mind, Yosep’s absence can no longer be read as a simple gap in the scene. It acquires a precise function. If Park Namwook is physically present at the gym (chapter 95), yet we know that meetings and exchanges between directors must still be taking place, then the question becomes unavoidable: who represents Team Black within that network at that moment?

The most coherent answer is that Yosep has now been tasked with that role. Let’s not forget that he is the one who reported the incident with the switched spray to MFC and the police. (chapter 52) His absence in episode 95 is therefore not passive. It indicates that he is operating elsewhere, in contact with the MFC and other gyms, possibly relaying information or participating in discussions that remain off-screen.

And if that is the case, then another implication follows. Yosep’s path cannot remain confined to Team Black. It necessarily extends into the same network of directors introduced in episode 49. Once this structure is established, his absence in episode 95 no longer appears accidental, but functional. He is positioned within a space where exchanges between gyms take place, where information circulates, and where decisions are coordinated beyond the immediate scene.

This has a direct consequence. (chapter 95) If Yosep is operating within that network, then his trajectory is no longer limited to internal interactions. It must, at some point, intersect with other directors—among them Choi Gilseok, whose role as the head of King of MMA places him at the center of that inter-gym structure.

And this is where episode 96 introduces a revealing shift. (chapter 96) Yosep is the one who calls Joo Jaekyung. He is already informed. More importantly, he is the one who presents the video—the interview in which Baek Junmin openly frames the confrontation.

This is not entirely new. Yosep had already acted as an intermediary in episode 52, when he reported the switched spray incident to the MFC and the police. (chapter 52) At that moment, his role was to transmit information upward within the system, in an attempt to clarify the situation and prevent it from being buried.

But in episode 96, this function takes a different form. Yosep no longer operates within a controlled, institutional framework. (chapter 96) Instead, he becomes the relay of a narrative that is already circulating publicly. What he transmits is no longer a report meant to establish truth, but a mediated version of events—one that exposes Joo Jaekyung to an external gaze shaped by others. (chapter 96) And this is precisely why the final panel echoes the earlier scene in the office. (chapter 95) In both cases, Joo Jaekyung is positioned in front of a surface that reflects him—not literally, but symbolically. In episode 95, the television interrupts the voice of strategy and replaces it with an image that speaks without dialogue. In episode 96, that image is no longer neutral. It carries a judgment, a narrative imposed from the outside.

The athlete is no longer simply receiving information. He is being confronted with a version of himself constructed by others. What appears on the screen, and what circulates among the surrounding voices, functions as a distorted reflection—one that does not emerge from within, but is imposed upon him.

This is where the shift becomes perceptible. (chapter 96) The space remains silent in structure (chapter 96), but the silence is now filled with a gaze. Not an exchange, not a dialogue, but an exposure. The crowd does not speak to him; it looks at him. What changes at this point is not only how he is seen, but how this gaze begins to affect him. The image imposed from the outside does not remain external. He is forced to just consume the image. It begins to function as a reflection—one that reduces him to weakness, to a past version of himself framed as inadequate.

This is where the psychological dimension emerges. The discomfort is no longer limited to exposure. It becomes internal. What he faces is not only the judgment of others, but the possibility that this image might coincide with something he already struggles to reject.

The fear, then, is not simply being seen. It is recognizing himself in what is being shown. What appears on the screen does not just distort him—it confronts him with a version of himself he cannot fully distance himself from. It is the moment when the external and internal critic shake hands.

Presence As A Barrier

The absence identified in episode 95 does not result in an empty space. (chapter 95) On the contrary, it reveals a configuration in which presence itself becomes insufficient—and, at times, obstructive.

Yosep’s displacement into the network has already altered the structure of mediation. His absence from the room signals that the circulation of information now takes place elsewhere, beyond the immediate scene. What remains, however, is not a neutral void. Park Namwook is present. (chapter 95) From his position, one might assume that he is watching Joo Jaekyung’s back—that his presence compensates for the absence of others.

But this interpretation depends on taking the scene at face value. And this is precisely where caution is required.

Because the sequence encourages a specific reading: we see the athlete hearing the comment from the moderator (chapter 95) while seated in front of the television (chapter 95), and only afterwards do we hear the manager’s voice (chapter 95) The arrangement leads us to infer that Joo Jaekyung must have switched on the TV himself in order to watch the program.

But is that what the scene actually shows?

A closer reading—one that does not rely on appearance alone—reveals a different configuration. The television is already on before any identifiable action is clearly attributed to him. (chapter 95) Then at the end of the scene, (chapter 95) the author reveals a table full of notes and a pen next to his left hand, while the champion is holding a sheet of paper. This image exposes that Joo Jaekyung was actually engaged in another activity: he was writing notes for his next fight. This implies that he was not oriented toward the act of watching, but toward a process of concentration. So why would he watch a show, when he is developing his game?

This is where Park Namwook’s position becomes crucial. (chapter 95) He is not seated beside the athlete. He does not share the table. He does not enter the space where the notes were being written and where strategy is being worked out. Instead, he stands behind him, physically present yet spatially removed from the process unfolding at the table. The distance matters. If he were truly participating in preparation, he would be positioned next to him, not outside that shared space.

The remote control matters just as much. (chapter 95) The hand with the remote control appears before the manager himself, a sign that the item was not placed on the table. It is in Park Namwook’s hand, not on the table, not by Joo Jaekyung’s notes, and not within the athlete’s immediate workspace. This detail does not prove with certainty that the manager switched the television on. But it does establish something important: control over the device is associated with him, not with the athlete seated at the table.

And there is another clue. In the key panels, Joo Jaekyung is depicted without visible eyes.. (chapter 95) In both panels, his eyes are obscured. (chapter 95) This is not a minor stylistic choice. In other moments (chapter 47), his gaze is sharply defined and functions as a marker of attention (chapter 36), recognition, or confrontation. Here, that anchor disappears. The subject is present, but not visually positioned as the origin of perception.

This is where the distinction between appearance and construction becomes decisive. From the perspective of appearance, he is watching. From the perspective of construction, he is being placed in front of an image, while the scene quietly encourages the audience to attribute that choice to him. (chapter 95)

Park Namwook’s words (chapter 95) sound protective, but they also reinforce the misleading impression that the athlete had chosen to watch in the first place. The instruction redirects attention toward Joo Jaekyung’s reaction and away from the more troubling question: who switched the television on?

That question cannot be dismissed, because the staging keeps it alive. The athlete was actually writing, before the manager arrived. The latter stands apart. The remote is in the manager’s hand. The broadcast is already running. Taken together, these details do not support a simple reading of self-exposure. They point instead toward a scene in which responsibility is subtly displaced.

In that sense, Park Namwook’s presence does not function as genuine protection. It becomes a barrier. He is close enough to shape the environment, yet too far from the table to participate in strategy. He intervenes, but only after the intrusion has already begun. And by framing the moment as if Joo Jaekyung were the one who chose to watch, he helps conceal the very conditions that made the exposure possible.

What appears, then, is not a straightforward scene of concern, but a more troubling configuration: a manager who is present, who holds the means of control, who stands behind the athlete rather than beside him, and whose intervention arrives too late while subtly shifting the burden of agency onto the one already exposed. In other words, it is not protection, but misdirection.

If the intrusion does not originate from Joo Jaekyung, then the question inevitably shifts: who benefits from this configuration—and why does it occur at this moment?

The answer may lie in a gradual shift that has already been unfolding in the background. (chapter 87) (chapter 89)

Park Namwook’s position is no longer what it once was.

Earlier, he functioned as a central figure of coordination—someone who structured preparation, mediated between systems, and directed the athlete’s trajectory within the network. But in episode 95, that role appears altered. He is present, yet no longer seated at the table where strategy is being constructed. The notes belong to Joo Jaekyung alone. The space of planning has become solitary.

This is not a minor detail. It signals a displacement. The manager is no longer actively shaping the game plan. He is no longer the one organizing knowledge, anticipating the opponent, or guiding the process. Instead, he stands aside—close, but not integrated.

Within this context, his interventions take on a different meaning.

His suggestion (chapter 95) appears, at first, as a return to fundamentals—a call to discipline, to physical preparation. But the scene contradicts this interpretation. (chapter 95) He is not training with the champion. He just stands by the side and yells some advice. The statement functions less as an instruction than as a repositioning.

A way to reassert relevance. (chapter 95) When Namwook can no longer contribute to the strategy (the mind), he retreats to the only place he has power: the body. He wants Jaekyung to be a machine again because you can “manage” a machine or tame a “beast”, but you have to “respect” a strategist. The same applies to the television sequence. If control over the device is indeed in his hands, then the intrusion is not random. It becomes part of a configuration in which he remains the one who can still act—even if he no longer defines the strategy itself.

This does not necessarily imply deliberate malice. But it does suggest a form of compensation. As his role within the system weakens, his mode of intervention shifts. He no longer leads the process (chapter 13); he intervenes at its margins. He does not construct the framework; he reacts within it. And in doing so, he creates situations in which his presence becomes necessary again —whether by interrupting, redirecting, or framing what is happening.

Within this context, even the exposure to the broadcast can be read differently. It may function as a trigger, (chapter 95) an attempt to provoke a reaction, to reignite aggression, to restore a version of Joo Jaekyung defined by instinct rather than reflection. This interpretation gains weight when we consider the recent disruption of routine. Because of Kim Dan (chapter 88) and Shin Okja (chapter 94), the champion’s schedule has already shifted: training has been interrupted, attention divided, priorities altered.

From this perspective, the intrusion is not only a breach—it is also an attempt to recalibrate. This is why the contradiction persists. He appears protective, yet the conditions of exposure remain unresolved.
He speaks of training, yet does not occupy the space where training is structured. What emerges is not a stable role, but a transitional one—marked by loss of authority and attempts to compensate for it. And this becomes even more obvious during the conversation in the office.

The Conductors of Dissonance

What emerges across episodes 95 and 96 is not a series of isolated misjudgments, but a structural shift in how mediation operates around the athlete. Both Yosep and Park Namwook remain present as intermediaries, yet their function has fundamentally altered: they no longer regulate the flow of external information (chapter 37) —they allow it to pass through unchecked. (chapter 96)

In high-level competition, this flow is never left unmanaged. Athletes are typically shielded from media exposure in the critical period before a match to prevent distraction conflict. As noted in contemporary sports psychology, unmediated scrutiny triggers cognitive overload and shifts an athlete’s identity from performer to victim. (for more read https://www.drpaulmccarthy.com/post/how-to-master-mental-preparation-in-sport-a-pro-athlete-s-secret-guide) This “blackout” is a fundamental principle of performance; external narratives impose an image from the outside, forcing the athlete to divide attention between performance and representation.

In Joo Jaekyung’s environment, the opposite occurs. (chapter 96) The boundary between preparation and exposure collapses as the interview is introduced directly into his workspace. (chapter 96) The consequences are immediate. Instead of focusing on process —evident in the strategic notes he is writing (chapter 95) —he is drawn into what cannot be controlled: public judgment and the reconstruction of his past as weakness.

This exposure disrupts the vital transition from “life” to “sport,” from the social self to the performing body. He is not allowed to “park” the external world; he is tethered to it. The image on the screen follows him into the space where focus should be consolidated.

From Buffers to Conduits

Management is not only about training the body; it is about structuring the conditions under which performance becomes possible—controlling timing and ensuring that what reaches the athlete can be processed without destabilization. Here, the figures who should operate as buffers instead act as conduits. They do not absorb pressure; they transmit it. This shift becomes even more visible in the episode of the destroyed poster. (chapter 96)

At first glance, the sequence appears straightforward: Park Namwook reacts with surprise (chapter 96), but he can clear grasp the situation: an act of vandalism. Then he questions the identity of the perpetrator (chapter 96), and turns suspicion toward the fighters present. (chapter 96) The scene frames him as someone discovering the vandalism alongside the others.

But the sequence does not hold under closer examination. (chapter 96) Yosep is already inside the gym before the others arrive. He opens the door from the inside. This detail matters. (chapter 96) It establishes that information about the incident could have circulated before Park Namwook’s visible reaction. The coach could have called the owner of Team Black. And yet, no such prior knowledge is acknowledged. Because of the interview, no one questions his previous behavior and whereabouts.

At the same time, the manager’s response contains a contradiction. (chapter 96) He expresses confusion, asks who could have done this—yet moments later, he states that the surveillance system had “chosen now of all times to break down.” This is not a neutral remark. It implies prior awareness of the system’s failure—knowledge that precedes the supposed moment of discovery.

The scene, therefore, operates on two levels.

On the surface, it presents ignorance. Structurally, it suggests awareness. So is it a coincidence that he has a drop of sweat on his face (chapter 96), when he reveals that the CCTV was not working?

This gap mirrors the earlier television sequence. In both cases, the framing directs attention toward immediate reaction—surprise, concern, intervention—while obscuring the conditions that made the situation possible. The question is not only what is seen, but what is withheld. Besides, observe that the fighter’s reply “We just got there” (chapter 96) seems to imply that it was not the case for the manager, which would explain why he knew about the broken CCTV.

Resistance and Distortion

This failure can be understood more precisely if we consider mediation as a system of circulation. Information, pressure, and expectation move continuously through the athlete’s environment. Management functions as a regulator of this flow—maintaining balance and preventing overload.

What we observe instead is the introduction of resistance. Resistance does not stop the flow; it transforms it. The information still reaches Joo Jaekyung—but no longer in a form that can be integrated. It arrives as pressure, as judgment, as an external gaze that destabilizes rather than supports.

Yosep relays the interview. Park Namwook allows—or in the best case fails to prevent—the broadcast. Both don’t report the intrusion of external events into the training space on time. In all these cases, they do not absorb or transform pressure before it reaches the athlete. They transmit it in a form that intensifies its impact. Their interactions stand in opposition to his relationship with Kim Dan which brought sparks in his life.

Energy is not removed from the system—it is converted to heat. (chapter 96) This transformation is not abstract. It is rendered directly in the body of the athlete. His breathing becomes labored, his skin flushed, his eyes reddened—as if the system itself were overheating. The excess cannot circulate; it accumulates.

What could have been directed toward performance becomes agitation. In this sense, the athlete is no longer simply exposed to pressure—he becomes its site of conversion. The system does not regulate energy; it displaces it, forcing the body to absorb what should have been filtered. Their role as managers does not disappear—it degrades. They continue to mediate, but only as points of resistance within the circuit, distorting the very flow they are meant to regulate.

And once this distortion is introduced, its effects are immediate: The athlete is not simply informed—he is destabilized. Even after his outburst at the gym, Joo Jaekyung does not collapse into uncontrolled reaction. When confronted with Kim Dan’s words and actions (chapter 96), he does not raise his voice. (chapter 96) He articulates his thoughts (chapter 96), maintains composure, and—most importantly— (chapter 96) attends to the other’s response before leaving. (chapter 96) This detail matters.

It reveals that the disturbance does not entirely override his capacity for regulation. The system overheats, but he does not fully give in to that state. Instead, he attempts to contain it. That’s why we can not say that the champion is like before. He has changed a lot, even much more than the physical therapist.

The imbalance, therefore, becomes more apparent. The failure does not lie in an absence of control within the athlete, but in the conditions imposed upon him. What should have been regulated externally is forced inward. He is left to process, absorb, and manage pressures that were never filtered.

In this sense, his composure is not evidence of stability—it is evidence of compensation.

The Architecture of Friction

If the first scene in episode 95 is structured by absence and intrusion, the second office scene introduces a different configuration: enclosure.

The glass door is closed. (chapter 95) At first glance, its transparency suggests continuity—the inside and the outside remain visually connected. And yet, the author frames the door in a way that emphasizes secrecy, separation rather than openness. The image functions less as a window than as a boundary.

This becomes clearer when we contrast two perspectives. (chapter 95) From within the office, the gym is reduced to indistinct chatter. Voices are present, but blurred, stripped of clarity and meaning. What was previously intrusive—the gazes, the noise, the surrounding activity—is now filtered, contained, pushed into the background.

But from the outside, the configuration appears entirely different. Through the glass, Joo Jaekyung should be visible. The space is not fully sealed; it remains exposed to observation. The boundary does not operate symmetrically. This asymmetry is crucial.

The office isolates him from participation, but not from visibility. He is removed from interaction, yet remains within sight. The result is not protection, but a controlled form of exposure—one in which the outside is muted for him, while he himself remains visible to the outside, but not accessible. (chapter 95) In this sense, the door does not simply separate two spaces. It reorganizes their relationship.

What disappears is not the presence of others, but the possibility of exchange. And yet, the office introduces a second layer of distortion—one that concerns not only interaction, but the staging of authority. (chapter 95) We are not allowed to see inside the office through the glass door. (chapter 95) The frame isolates the sign: Director’s Office. Function is foregrounded, identity withheld. The question of who truly occupies that role remains suspended.

Inside, the spatial arrangement resolves this ambiguity—without fully clarifying it. (chapter 95) The couch is positioned in front of the desk, not behind it. Park Namwook sits on that couch, facing Joo Jaekyung. He does not occupy the desk itself—the formal seat of authority remains physically unclaimed. And yet, the alignment of the space creates a different effect.

Because the couch is not neutral. It is placed directly within the axis of the desk. Sitting there, Park Namwook is not behind authority, but projected through it. The desk stands behind him like a backdrop, a silent structure that frames his position and lends it weight. This configuration produces a subtle inversion.

He does not sit at the desk— but the desk sits behind him. And that is enough to transform perception. From this position, he speaks as if the authority associated with the desk extended forward into the space he occupies. His words (chapter 95) —evaluations, warnings, directives—are no longer those of a participant within a shared process. (chapter 95) They take on the tone of someone who assesses from above, even though his position does not formally grant him that role.

At the same time, the visual field reinforces this ambiguity. (chapter 95) The diplomas and titles—belonging to the gym, to Team Black, to the fighter’s achievements—are aligned within the same spatial frame. They are not his, and yet they appear within his field of authority.

The result is not explicit appropriation, but positional absorption. He does not claim ownership. He occupies the frame in which ownership is displayed. This is what destabilizes the interaction. Because Joo Jaekyung, seated opposite him, is no longer addressed as a collaborator within preparation. He is positioned as the one being evaluated—measured against standards that are invoked from a place that is only partially legitimate.

Authority, here, does not reside in the desk itself. It emerges from the alignment between space, position, and speech. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Park Namwook was surprised, when the sportsman selected the new physical therapist himself. (chapter 54) He imagined that the celebrity would entrust him the selection. To conclude, Park Namwook’s seat is not random. He represents a hindrance to the fighter’s emancipation, becoming the director of a gym.

Speech, Gaze, and the Burden Shift

Within this enclosed space, the manager’s discourse does not merely fill the silence—it structures it. His speech follows a consistent pattern (chapter 95), one that does not distinguish between statements and questions in the way one might expect. At first glance, he appears to ask. (chapter 95) (chapter 95)

But these questions do not function as openings. They do not create space for an answer, nor do they suspend judgment. On the contrary, they are immediately followed—sometimes within the same sequence—by conclusions that override any possible response:

Besides, when he observes (chapter 95), readers can detect a pattern emerging.

Each question anticipates its own answer. Each one narrows the field of meaning before the athlete can speak. There is no pause, no waiting, no negotiation. The form of dialogue is present, but its function is absent. Hence it turns more into a monologue, where the manager actually reveals his own desires and dreams. He wants to be remembered as the one behind the star’s success.

The sequence is revealing. The question does not lead to understanding; it leads directly to judgment. It serves as a transition, not toward exchange, but toward interpretation. What could have remained open is immediately closed. In this sense, the distinction between question and statement collapses. Both operate within the same structure: they define rather than explore, they impose rather than receive.

The misperception becomes even more striking when we consider the direction of Joo Jaekyung’s gaze. (chapter 95) It is not directed downward, as the phrase “rock bottom” would suggest. It shifts sideways, through the glass door, toward the outside. His attention is not absent, but displaced. He is focused elsewhere: he is observing Kim Dan interacting with the other members. Contrary to the past, he is no longer reacting violently. The jealousy has vanished from his gaze. Park Namwook misrecognizes this movement. He translates lateral orientation into vertical collapse, converting a gaze toward the outside into evidence of inner deficiency. What exceeds his framework is not explored; it is redefined.

This misrecognition is not incidental. It reveals the limits of the system through which he perceives the athlete. The gaze toward the outside signals precisely what had already been established: the disruption of the transition between life and sport. The external world has not been left behind. It persists, intrudes, and continues to shape the athlete’s state. He is not allowed to become a human it; he has to remain in the sport world.

But within Park Namwook’s framework, such a condition cannot be acknowledged. For him, there is no meaningful space outside performance. (chapter 95) There is no transition to negotiate, no boundary to maintain. There is only the fight. What appears, from this perspective, as distraction is therefore reinterpreted as failure. What is, in fact, a tension between two spheres is reduced to a flaw within one.

This reduction structures everything that follows. (chapter 95) If he loses the title, he will be reduced to nothing. What is striking is not only what is said, but what is systematically excluded. The recent intrusion—the broadcast, the circulating narratives, the external gaze—is never acknowledged as a possible cause. Its impact on the athlete’s mental state is not considered. Instead, the problem is located entirely within Joo Jaekyung himself. The disturbance originates outside, yet the responsibility is reassigned inside.

By framing the issue as a matter of “focus” or “headspace,” Park Namwook transforms a complex configuration into an individual deficit. The athlete is no longer someone reacting to pressure; he becomes someone failing to meet a standard.

This logic extends into action. When Joo Jaekyung is struck during training (chapter 95), the same structure reappears. There is no attempt to understand why the mistake occurred, no effort to connect it to distraction, fatigue, or accumulated pressure. Instead, the moment is isolated: “How could you let that punch land?” The error is treated as self-contained, detached from the conditions that might explain it. He shows no sign of empathy in the end.

Speech, here, does not investigate. It attributes. And it is at this point that speech, gaze, and gesture converge.

When Park Namwook places his hand on Joo Jaekyung’s shoulder (chapter 95), the contact appears supportive. It suggests reassurance, proximity, perhaps even solidarity. Yet within this configuration, the gesture performs a different function. It does not distribute the burden; it fixes it. The shoulder—site of weight and endurance—becomes the point at which responsibility is anchored. What has already been established through language is now reinforced through touch: everything depends on the athlete. At the same time, this gesture negates the existence of the shoulder injury and surgery.

The rhetoric intensifies this compression. The match is framed in absolute terms, almost as a matter of life and death. Alternatives disappear. Nuance disappears. What remains is a binary: perform or fail. (chapter 95) Within such a framework, there is no space left for external influence, emotional disturbance, or personal life. These dimensions are not contested; they are excluded in advance.

This narrowing of perception is also visible in the gaze. In one panel, Park Namwook’s eyes are fully rendered—sharp, focused, unequivocal. (chapter 95) This clarity signals a mode of perception that has already appeared elsewhere. When he looks at the main lead and calls him “fresh meat” (chapter 74), the same logic is at work. The individual is not encountered as a subject, but classified as a function, reduced to a body that can be evaluated and positioned.

The same reduction governs his reaction to the vandalized poster (chapter 96). His anger is immediate, but its object is telling. He does not interpret the act as hostility or as a symbolic attack directed at Joo Jaekyung. Instead, he speaks of damage, of responsibility, of compensation. The act is translated into material loss. What matters is not what it signifies, but what it costs. At the same time, he imagines that this is the work of a single person! But the broken CCTV (chapter 96) implies that different people were working together.

Meaning disappears. Across these moments, a coherent framework emerges. The fighter is treated as a body, the title as an objective, the image as an asset. Everything is brought back to function and value. Within such a system, there is no place for what cannot be measured or controlled. This is why no question can remain open, why no answer can be explored. To do so would require acknowledging that something lies beyond performance—that the athlete’s state might be shaped by forces that cannot be immediately quantified.

Speech and gaze align. They produce the same effect: a world in which only performance is visible, and everything that exceeds it is excluded. The consequence is a complete displacement of responsibility. What originates from the outside—the pressure, the exposure, the intrusion—is redefined as coming from within. The athlete becomes both the site and the cause of the problem.

And this has a direct impact on his relationships. If everything is reduced to performance, then anything that does not serve that function becomes secondary, if not obstructive. There is no conceptual space for Kim Dan within this framework. (chapter 95) Between the fighter and the title, no third position can be sustained. The growing distance between them is not arbitrary; it is structured. As the burden becomes internalized, it can no longer be shared. And now, you comprehend why later in front of the huge window, Joo Jaekyung chose to listen to his “hyung”. (chapter 95)

What appears as rejection is, in fact, the effect of a system in which there is no room for anything that cannot be reduced to function. The disturbance becomes perceptible not only in absence or timing, but in the way bodies are no longer allowed to coexist within the same space. That’s why the physical therapist was separated from his mate by the glass door.

And this is why the rupture (chapter 96) that follows does not emerge suddenly. It is already inscribed within this configuration—within a logic that isolates, reduces, and ultimately separates.

Static Presence

If the office reveals a system in which speech imposes and reduces, the scene on the beach appears, at first glance, to offer its opposite. (chapter 95) The spatial configuration changes immediately. There is no barrier, no desk, no imposed hierarchy. (chapter 95) Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan sit side by side, aligned within the same horizontal plane. The asymmetry that structured the office—front versus opposite, speaker versus evaluated—seems to dissolve. The scene suggests proximity, even equality.

And yet, this alignment remains incomplete. Joo Jaekyung makes a promise first. His words introduce a form of commitment that exceeds the logic of performance: (chapter 95) The statement appears unconditional. It gestures toward continuity beyond the fight, beyond the system that had previously defined him. It is not framed as strategy, nor as obligation, but as presence.

But this movement does not return to him. (chapter 95) The promise is unilateral. There is no reciprocal formulation, no mirrored commitment, no re-articulation of the bond from the other side. What is offered outward is not taken up and extended; it remains suspended.

The image makes this asymmetry visible. (chapter 95) In Kim Dan’s gaze, Joo Jaekyung is not reflected. What appears instead is the lighthouse in the distance. At first glance, this suggests a displacement: the athlete’s presence does not fully register within his field of vision.

But this detail carries a second implication, if you compare it to the athlete’s night, where he felt relieved that Kim Dan was alive: (chapter 69) This panel implied that Kim Dan had become his whole world. The comparison exposes that the athlete is still not in the center of his life yet. The lighthouse is not only an external point of orientation. (chapter 95) It also reflects a position that Kim Dan begins to assume. Stable, distant, constant—it does not move toward the other; it remains where it is, offering direction without entering the movement itself.

In this sense, the gaze does not simply turn away from Joo Jaekyung. It aligns with a role. Kim Dan does not step into the relational space opened by the promise. He situates himself beside it, as a fixed point rather than as a participant. What Joo Jaekyung offers is presence—“I’ll always be in your corner.” What Kim Dan adopts is function: to remain steady, to support, to endure.

This is why the promise remains unilateral. It is not rejected. It is not contradicted. But it is not mirrored either. It is received from a distance, translated into a different register. The response (chapter 95) acknowledges the gesture without entering into it. The exchange closes without becoming mutual.

What emerges here is not rejection, but non-reciprocity. And yet, this position is not without expectation. To become a lighthouse is also to be looked at.

Even if he does not fully engage with the promise, Kim Dan places himself in a position of orientation—someone who remains, who supports, who is “there.” This stability carries an implicit hope: that the other will return to it, will recognize it, will rely on it. This position also sheds light on another element that remains present, yet unaddressed: Joo Jaekyung’s insomnia. (chapter 91) It lingers in the background, acknowledged but never truly treated. And yet, it is not incidental. Insomnia signals the inability to withdraw, to interrupt exposure, to let the body enter a different rhythm. In this sense, it mirrors the function of the lighthouse. A lighthouse remains on—it stabilizes, but it does not allow rest. Kim Dan’s care operates in a similar way: constant, attentive, but not rhythmic. It keeps the athlete oriented, but does not create the conditions for him to “switch off.” What appears as support therefore also sustains the very state it fails to resolve.

This metaphor is what makes the following moment so revealing. When Joo Jaekyung leaves the next morning without turning back and replying (chapter 96), without reestablishing that line of orientation, the structure collapses. What had been silently assumed—being seen, being turned toward—is no longer confirmed.

The wound does not emerge from contradiction. It emerges from absence. Kim Dan is not rejected in words. He is not dismissed explicitly. (chapter 96) But the position he has taken—the one of quiet constancy, of supportive presence—is not acknowledged. The lighthouse remains, but no one looks at it. Striking is that before the champion left, the doctor tried to reconnect with him by wishing him good luck.He is modest and hesitant. (chapter 96) At first glance, this appears simple. But it is not neutral. It is a repetition. Kim Dan tries to reactivate a shared ritual—the one established after the night in Paris.(chapter 87) A moment where touch, words, and intention aligned. (chapter 87) A moment where connection was not abstract, but embodied. (chapter 87) But in front of the entrance, something is missing. (chapter 96) The hands do not meet. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the star did not reply to the physical therapist’s words. (chapter 96) He feared to waver. He is now treating the physical therapist as a distraction and a weakness.

The structure of the gesture is reproduced (chapter 96) —the wish, the proximity, the intention—but its core element is absent. There is no joining of hands, no shared contact that would anchor the exchange in the body. The movement remains incomplete. And it was the same on the beach.

There is no joining of hands, no shared contact that would anchor the exchange in the body. The movement remains incomplete.

And this absence is decisive. Because in the earlier scene, the hand was not just a gesture—it was the point of synchronization. It created a circuit: touch, recognition, response. The body confirmed what the words suggested. Here, that circuit does not close. Joo Jaekyung responds—he takes the hand, he squeezes it, he even leans closer, whispering: (chapter 87) But what he asks for reveals the shift. (chapter 87) He does not reciprocate the wish. He redirects it. The gesture is no longer shared—it is instrumentalized. The touch does not establish equality; it becomes a means. What is requested is not mutual presence, but support directed toward a single objective: the fight. (chapter 87) And yet, beneath this request, something else becomes visible. What he asks for is not only strength. It is connection. The whisper, the closeness, the physical proximity—all point toward a need that exceeds performance. But this need is not articulated as such. It remains displaced, translated into the language of the match. “Give me strength” replaces “stay with me.”

This is why the moment remains unresolved. Because what Joo Jaekyung seeks is not what Kim Dan offers—and what Kim Dan attempts to offer is not what Joo Jaekyung is able to receive. The misalignment persists, but it shifts its form. Kim Dan reaches through repetition (chapter 96) —through ritual, through care, through a reconstruction of what once connected them.
Joo Jaekyung reaches through intensity—through touch, through urgency, through a need that he cannot fully name.

But the two movements do not coincide. And this is where the earlier observation becomes fully visible. Kim Dan is not rejected in words. He is not dismissed explicitly. But the position he has taken—the one of quiet constancy, of supportive presence—is no longer acknowledged. This means, that the lighthouse is no longer working.

And yet, this is precisely where the scene opens toward a future resolution. Because the image of joined hands — earlier echoed outside the narrative—suggests a moment that has not yet been reached. A point where gesture, intention, and response will finally align.

Where support is no longer unilateral. Where presence is no longer translated into function. Where touch is no longer redirected, but shared. In other words: a moment where they become a team.

This introduces a different form of misalignment than the one observed in the office.

There, the problem lay in imposed meaning—in a discourse that defined the athlete from the outside. Here, the misalignment takes the form of incomplete presence. The relation is not constrained by speech, but it is not fully inhabited either.

This becomes more visible when we follow Kim Dan’s position across subsequent scenes.

At the gym, he asks, “Are you okay, Mr Joo?” (chapter 95), but the question remains confined to the immediate, physical state. When the athlete is injured, he treats the symptom. He wipes the blood, observes the body, intervenes where necessary. But he does not investigate the cause. The question of why the injury occurred—what led to the lapse—is never pursued.

This orientation continues in the penthouse. (chapter 96) Care is translated into technique. Emotional tension is approached through physical intervention. The body becomes the site where the problem is managed, even when its origin lies elsewhere.

Even when he recognizes the external pressure (chapter 96); this recognition does not lead to inquiry. It remains observational, not relational. He does not question the narrative, nor its effects. He adapts to it. I doubt that he even watched the interview, as the former coach and director Hwang Byungchul got insulted and diminished. (chapter 96)

This is not indifference. It is a limitation. Kim Dan does care. But his care operates within defined boundaries. He approaches Joo Jaekyung as a patient, not as a subject whose experience must be understood in its entirety. He does not impose a framework, as Park Namwook does—but neither does he challenge one.

And this has consequences. If everything is reduced to performance, as in the manager’s framework, there is no space for relationship. But if care remains confined to function, there is no space for shared experience either.

Between the fighter and the title, Park Namwook leaves no room. Between the patient and the body, Kim Dan does not fully enter. In both cases, something remains unaddressed.Joo Jaekyung is neither fully defined nor fully understood. He is managed, he is treated, he is supported—but not met in the space where his experience actually unfolds.

And this is why the misalignment persists. Not because there is no care, but because care itself remains incomplete.

Functional Distance

The misalignment on the beach—where Kim Dan assumes the role of a lighthouse (chapter 95) —finds its physical conclusion in the refused gesture of Chapter 96. When Joo Jaekyung pushes the hand away (chapter 96), he is not merely rejecting a movement; he is rejecting the limitations of the role Kim Dan has chosen to inhabit.

In this moment, the “Lighthouse” stance becomes a psychological shield. For Dan, retreating into his role as a physiotherapist provides a sense of safety and professional boundaries. Hence he watches his loved one from afar the entire time. (chapter 95) But for Jaekyung, this boundary is experienced as abandonment. By attempting to “complete the treatment,” Dan tries to force the interaction back into a patient-doctor dynamic at a moment of profound emotional crisis. (chapter 96) He feels like he is not even recognized as a friend. (chapter 96)

This is the core of the dissonance: Dan offers a functional touch where Jaekyung requires a relational one. By focusing on the muscles, Dan treats the body as a “thing” to be fixed—an object of study rather than a subject of experience. He fixes the symptom (the tension) while avoiding the cause (the humiliation). The “Smack” of the rejection is the realization that as long as Dan is “treating” him, he doesn’t have to “know” him.

Jaekyung does not reject the therapy; he rejects the distance that the therapy maintains. He pushes the hand away because he recognizes that a lighthouse, while constant, is fundamentally inanimate. It can guide him through the storm, but it will never enter the water to help him swim.

The Walk As Deferred Synchrony

If the rest of Joo Jaekyung’s world is structured by management, performance, and functional roles, the hospital room in episode 94 introduces a radically different configuration. (chapter 94) The space is quiet, contained, almost suspended—and within it, a gesture occurs that does not follow the logic established elsewhere.

When Kim Dan’s grandmother reaches out to pat his cheek, the touch does not regulate, correct, or demand. (chapter 94) It is not a gesture of control, nor of care defined by function. It is, instead, a gesture of recognition and affection.

This distinction is decisive. Because when she says, (chapter 94) she does more than offer a blessing. She disrupts the entire structure through which Joo Jaekyung has been perceived. Until this moment, he exists within systems that reduce him: to a body that performs, to a fighter who must win, to a patient who must be stabilized. His value is always defined externally—by outcome, by function, by necessity.

Here, for the first time, he is addressed as a subject and even as a “child”. Not as someone who must achieve, but as someone who can be happy. And more importantly, that happiness is not imagined in isolation. It is articulated as relational, inseparable from Kim Dan’s own. The statement does not position him outside the bond, but within it. It creates a shared horizon—one that neither the manager’s discourse nor the medical framework had allowed to exist.

This moment does not yet produce synchrony. It creates the conditions for it. The grandmother’s touch does not establish a reciprocal exchange, but it opens a space in which such an exchange becomes thinkable. It introduces a possibility that exceeds both control and care: the possibility of being seen without being reduced. And this recognition carries weight.

Because it introduces a new form of burden—not the burden of the title, not the pressure to perform, but the burden of being acknowledged as someone whose life can be shared with another. From this point onward, Joo Jaekyung is no longer only confronted with expectations. He is confronted with a possibility he does not yet know how to inhabit.

What follows immediately after makes this even more explicit. (chapter 94) When the grandmother suggests that “the three of us can go for a walk,” the gesture shifts from recognition to movement. The proposal is not incidental. It translates what has just been opened into a concrete form.

Walking implies more than proximity. (chapter 47) It requires alignment—of direction, of rhythm, of time. It transforms a moment into a duration, a shared presence into a shared trajectory. It is, in its simplest form, the embodiment of synchrony. This observation outlines the contrast to the champion’s promise on the beach. (chapter 95) They did not walk together, they remained seated. That’s why their lack of alignement was not truly perceptible.

And the stroll introduces something new: a structure of togetherness. Not a dyad, but a triad—the three of us. A temporary, fragile configuration that resembles a family. Not defined by roles, but by movement. Not by function, but by coexistence.

But this movement does not occur. Kim Dan refuses—gently, almost imperceptibly. “It’s late… we’ll go next time.” The refusal is not confrontational. It does not reject the connection. But it postpones it. And this postponement is decisive.

Because the synchrony that had just become possible is deferred. The transition from recognition to shared experience is interrupted. The moment remains suspended, unfulfilled. This hesitation reveals something fundamental about Kim Dan’s position.

He receives the grandmother’s words, but does not fully step into what they imply. (chapter 96) He remains within the logic that has defined him: that of care, of responsibility, of quiet support. Like the lighthouse that appears in his gaze, he positions himself as a fixed point—present, reliable, but distant. He does not move. He doesn’t follow his heart. And yet, to walk would require precisely that: to leave that position, to enter into a shared rhythm, to participate rather than to stabilize. Kim Dan cares, but he cares as a fixed point. He watches the ship struggle against the narrative, but he stays on the shore. The grandmother offers a rhythm. Kim Dan offers a delay. And in that gap, the walk remains a ghost, and the touch remains a dissonance.

This is where the misalignment begins to take shape. Because while the grandmother opens a space of relation, neither of them fully occupies it. Joo Jaekyung is confronted with a possibility he cannot yet sustain. Kim Dan is offered a movement he does not yet recognize. The result is not failure, but deferral. And this deferral reverberates through what follows.

But this is precisely where another form of presence emerges—one that operates through absence. During the night in the penthouse, Joo Jaekyung does not think of the grandmother. (chapter 95) Her words are not recalled, her figure is not evoked, her request is not consciously revisited. On the surface, she is absent. And yet, this absence is deceptive.

Because what structures his reflection in that moment is not the memory of her voice, but the transformation it has already produced. The opposition that surfaces—(chapter 95) —is no longer stable. It is immediately unsettled by another voice, another possibility: (chapter 95) And what follows is not an abstract idea. It is an image. Kim Dan appears. (chapter 95) This shift is decisive. The grandmother is not present as a figure, but as a function. She has already altered the internal configuration through which Joo Jaekyung perceives himself. Her gesture has been absorbed, displaced, and translated into a new form of questioning.

In this sense, she is no longer external to him. She has entered his inner world. Not as a memory—but as a structure. (chapter 95) This is why her absence matters. Because it reveals that the disturbance does not require constant visibility to persist. It has already taken root. The question she introduced—of a life beyond performance, of a relation beyond function—continues to operate, even when she is no longer present.

And it operates through Kim Dan. That’s the reason why the champion pushes away the physical therapist. The image that interrupts the logic of victory is not the grandmother—it is him. This substitution is not accidental. It shows that the possibility she opened is now anchored in their relationship.

But this anchoring remains unstable. Because while Kim Dan appears within that internal space, the relation itself has not yet reached synchrony. The image is present, but the connection is not yet fully realized.

This is what intensifies the tension.

The grandmother’s intervention has already reshaped the internal landscape. (chapter 94) It has introduced a new axis—one that opposes performance to relation, victory to something else that remains undefined, but essential. But this axis is not yet resolved. It exists as a fracture. And from this point onward, absence no longer signifies emptiness. It signifies transformation. What is no longer visible has already begun to act.

The recognition cannot be undone—but it cannot yet be realized either. It lingers, as a possibility that remains out of reach. It transforms the meaning of subsequent gestures, without stabilizing them.

What emerges from this configuration is no longer only an internal fracture within Joo Jaekyung, but the outline of an external conflict that has yet to fully surface. Because the three logics that now surround him cannot coexist indefinitely. On one side, Park Namwook—and beyond him, the structure of the MFC—continues to operate within a closed system of performance. Within this framework, there is no space for anything that does not directly serve the fight. (chapter 96) Thus the physical therapist is not included in the meeting. Distraction must be eliminated, influence must be controlled, and relationships are tolerated only insofar as they remain functional. The body must remain available, and the mind aligned.

On the other side, Kim Dan represents something that this system cannot fully integrate. Not because he opposes it openly, but because his presence introduces a different logic—one that is not reducible to performance. (chapter 95) Even in its incomplete form, his care interrupts the continuity of the system. It creates pauses, displacements, moments where the athlete is no longer entirely absorbed into the role assigned to him.

Up to this point, this tension has remained diffuse. It has manifested as misalignment, as silence, as failed gestures. But the conditions are now in place for it to become explicit. Because what the system requires—and what Kim Dan begins to represent—are no longer compatible. For Park Namwook, there can be nothing between the fighter and the title. For Kim Dan, there is something else—though he has not yet fully claimed it. This is why the dissonance intensifies around touch, around presence, around time. These are precisely the points at which the two logics intersect.

And this is where the conflict will inevitably emerge. Not as a simple opposition between individuals, but as a confrontation between two ways of relating to Joo Jaekyung: one that reduces him to a function, and one that—however imperfectly—begins to recognize him as a subject. What has so far remained unspoken is therefore not absent. It is gathering.

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: Dropped amusement 😞

I have to admit that when I read chapter 126 for the first time, I was disappointed. Why? It is because Yoon Seungho appeared so stupid and weak. He kept running from one place (chapter 126) to another (chapter 126). He allowed his father to humiliate and abuse him (Chapter 126) once again. It was, as if the story was back to square one and the protagonist had learned nothing at all. Under this perception, my avid readers can comprehend why I selected such a title. However, instead of thinking that the author was a bad writer, I decided to ponder on the following question. Why did the author choose such an evolution?

1. The fools in love

First, since it is Baek Na-Kyum’s destiny to go through the same experiences than his loved one, I deduce that the main lead is now following Baek Na-Kyum’s path. In other words, they are switching their fate. This explicates why the lord is naïve, blinded by his love for the painter. Yes, Yoon Seungho is a fool in love too. (chapter 7) Like Baek Na-Kyum, he rushed to his loved one’s side. However, he was first stopped (chapter 126), because it was not the right time. How so? Notice that his brother had fetched him at the port (chapter 125), but he never followed him to the bureau of investigation. And the same happened later. Why didn’t he go to his shed, when he was trapped there? Where was he, when the eldest son visited the father? (chapter 126) His absence exposed his passivity and betrayal. However, at no moment, Yoon Seungho noticed this. To conclude, Yoon Seungho was so worried for the painter that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, just like the painter didn’t see the learned sir’s disdain expressed through the cold gaze. (chapter 07) Therefore Yoon Seungho didn’t notice the presence of a civilian next to the governor. (chapter 126). Striking is that the governor knew about Yoon Seungho’s whereabouts before his arrival: the coast. As you can see, I am detecting a link between the governor and the younger master Seungwon. Yet, it was disguised as a rumor behind the expression “I had heard”. My assumption is that Seungwon came from the bureau of investigation in order to inform his brother. Therefore it is not surprising that Seungho was invited by his brother to visit the prison during the night. (chapter 126) And the moment I perceived the protagonist as a fool in love, I realized that chapter 126 is a reflection of episode 7, 29 (chapter 29) and 40 (chapter 40). Here, the painter was trying his best to protect Jung In-Hun’s interests (life, high position). Moreover, in episode 40, the painter had a dream, when he saw the announcement for the civil service examination. He smiled, for he was looking forward for the future. (chapter 40) And what have these episodes more in common? A betrayal, abandonment from a loved one and a paper (painting, poem). Hence I am more than ever convinced that the petition will resurface very soon and play a huge role in the downfall of the schemers and haters. Besides, chapter 40 represents the negative reflection of the conversation in the prison. (chapter 126) Though they are in a tough situation, Yoon Seungho is not leaving his side contrary to episode 40. (chapter 40) There is neither disdain nor mockery. The mentioned scenes are similar, for the present resembles the past. And this brings me to the second reason for the Webtoonist’s decision.

2. Past, present and future

It is because Byeonduck is now mixing the past with the present indicating that the future will be different. Let me elaborate my thoughts more precisely through the relationship between the protagonist and his father. First, when the incident with the stolen kiss was reported, (chapter 123), Yoon Chang-Hyeon considered Yoon Seungho as a human, for he employed the personal pronoun “he”. He was still his son. Then in episode 77, he judged him as a slave (chapter 77), hence he was submitted to the straw mat beating and was held captive. He even refused to send for a physician. (chapter 83) Here, the father is denying his humanity, he is just an animal. In their next confrontation, he describes him as a monster, hence he wished that he had never been born. (chapter 86) However, his words exposed that he was still viewing him as a living being. Therefore it is not surprising that he accepted lord Song’s request to order the murder of his son! In the gibang, he decided to no longer acknowledge Yoon Seungho as his son. (chapter 107) The tragedy is that the protagonist still viewed the Yoons as his family because of Yoon Seungwon, who keeps calling him “brother”. This explicates why Yoon Seungho sponsored his brother to have an official position. (chapter 115) Therefore it is not surprising that he followed Yoon Seungwon’s advice again. (chapter 120). He would bring the petition to his own father. This means that he is acting like the painter who listened to his noona Heena so well. (chapter 46) But now, Yoon Chang-Hyeon believes to have the petition. (chapter 125) This explicates why the patriarch is now calling the main lead “nothing”. (chapter 126) He is not even a thing. This means that he is actually discarding him. This explicates why he sent him to the shed. (chapter 126) It was, as if he had become a merchandise. Or we could say that the elder master had been using him as a tool, which he can now abandon. (chapter 126) Interesting is that the idiom “plaything” has for antonyms tool, implement, instrument and utensil. And this brings me to the following remark. The father’s words are reflecting the last scheme. Yoon Seungho was used as the sword to get rid of an enemy, lord Song. It was, as if someone had decided to get rid of lord Song, for he represented a danger or threat. It also mirrors the trick in the shrine. Min and the others got killed, because Lee Jihwa went to his childhood friend. And who had seen the main lead using this sword, when he was enraged? Father Lee! (chapter 67) But let’s return our attention to the patriarch and his son. Yoon Seungho is no longer recognized as a Yoon member. Therefore I come to the conclusion that Yoon Seungho will make the following decision: to become an orphan. And this is symbolized by the loss of hair. I am expecting him to cut off his hair, something the painter has been doing for a long time. That’s why Byeonduck showed us the lord without a topknot. (chapter 126) This would coincide with my previous statement. The lord is going through the same experience than his loved one. However, people will come to the conclusion that this was done by the father. How so? Remember how each rumor became a reality. (chapter 1) I had already demonstrated that Yoon Seungho was not a fiend for sodomy with no regard for time and place, until he met Baek Na-Kyum. But once a deed is done, it can never be repeated. (chapter 101) So should Father Lee claim that he has long disowned Jihwa by cutting off his topknot, no one will believe him, for the young master was still seen with a topknot after confessing his feelings in public. (chapter 57) In other words, the topknot incident at the kisaeng would be brought up. It is impossible for 2 fathers to act the same way. Besides, the loss of the topknot has another signification: Yoon Seungho would cut off ties with valet Kim, for the latter was the one who gave him the topknot. And episode 126 reflected one more time his position: (chapter 126) He is the one dressing him. It was, as if he was the pope.

3. Abandoned plaything

Because of my initial disappointment, I examined the chapter more closely. This sentence from the patriarch caught my attention (chapter 126) Why would he call Baek Na-Kyum a “plaything”, when before he viewed him as a servant? (chapter 116) It is because someone had reported to him the conversation between lord Song and the painter. (chapter 122) There was a spy listening to their conversation. Since all the guards died (chapter 124) (chapter 125: I am assuming that the survivor got executed), I am suspecting the scholar. Moreover, why would Yoon Chang-Hyeon accuse his son to have abandoned Baek Na-Kyum? It is related to this departure of the staff and Yoon Seungho. (chapter 120) And who was present there? Jung In-Hun! But there is more to it. Since leaving Baek Na-Kyum behind is considered as an abandonment, it means that the patriarch abandoned his son too. (chapter 27) By speaking to Yoon Seungho, the elder master Yoon didn’t realize that he was admitting his own wrongdoings. Actually, he had abandoned him many times… like here for example (chapter 87) Therefore his words will come back to bite him. But these words are also exposing the valet’s betrayal and abandonment towards Yoon Seungho!! How so?

Where was he, when the protagonist was looking for Baek Na-Kyum? (chapter 125) Where was he, when the latter visited the patriarch’s home? Why did he only appear during the night? One might argue that he needed to wait the night in order not to be detected. But since Kim was supposed to be with Yoon Seungwon and the staff (chapter 122), then he should have been at the patriarch’s house. The absence of the valet is the evidence of his treason. For me, he is now working for Jung In-Hun which explains why he never mentioned his presence in the mansion, only lord Song. Besides, keep in mind that once deed done can not be repeated. In episode 27, the lord was too angry and busy to notice the learned sir’s spying activities. (Chapter 27) Moreover, Kim didn’t report the interrogation to his master. This means that the butler covered up for the teacher’s wrongdoing. But here is the deal: (chapter 120) The library was ransacked, hence this crime is bound to be discovered. Finally, his intervention in the shed is exposing his deception. (chapter 126) He could do something in the past! He entered the shed, and even brought him clothes. This stands in opposition to this scene: (chapter 83) That’s why I am convinced that these words (chapter 126) are reflecting the butler’s actions. He treated Yoon Seungho like a tool which he could use. In verity, he could have helped his master in the past by telling the truth!

Because my theory is that the lord was the king’s male kisaeng, the noble could utilize this principle against the monarch. Since he always left him behind, he just treated him like a plaything and not like a loved one and allowed others to use him.

4. The return of Yoon Seungho’s strength

Finally, I believe that Byeonduck had another reason to turn the table so that Yoon Seungho would appear as powerless. It is to outline his desire to live. (chapter 126) He is no longer suicidal, in fact he is full of hope! Though he was sent back to hell for a short moment, he came out of this as a winner. My evidence is that the lord has now become a believer. (chapter 126) Yes, episode 126 exposes the return of his faith! And where could we see the atheism of Yoon Seungho in the story? In chapter 92! (chapter 92) He didn’t believe in the spring poetry to ward off bad luck! That’s why he was sent back to the past. He needed to lose everything in order to find hope! In his darkest moment, he expressed a wish: to meet his loved one! And where did he pray to the gods? In the shed! (chapter 126) Observe how he is kneeling in direction of the bars. He is hoping to meet Baek Na-Kyum again. As you can see, though this scene (chapter 126) seems to be a repetition from the past, (chapter 83) it is not! The reality is that in episode 83, Yoon Seungho had lost all hope. This explains why he showed only resignation in front of his father. (chapter 83) However, the Painter Of The Night-philes certainly could observe how he had reacted, when he was put down by the guards. (chapter 126) He was showing resistance and anger towards his father. Moreover, he was no longer shaking in front of the patriarch or the guards. (chapter 86) Thus I deduce that though he was mistreated and insulted like in the past, he was no longer suffering from his traumas. He is healed. His will is now really strong, supported by his new found faith.

Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Yoon Seungho sent the painter to the shed after the so-called desertion! (chapter 62) Even if they were hugging, they were not close emotionally and mentally. This stands in opposition to the scene in the jail. They might be separated by the bars, but they are touching each other tenderly. (chapter 126) They are able to see each other.

What to Do When You Feel You Are Losing Your Faith

Acknowledge and Accept What You Feel (…) (chapter 126) Try Meditation (chapter 126) or Prayer (chapter 126)

Count Your Blessings (chapter 126)

Talk It Out

Spend Time With Loved Ones (chapter 126)

Consider Counseling

Take a Break

Take The Time to Reflect (chapter 126) Quoted from https://www.verywellmind.com/losing-faith-definition-suggestions-and-take-away-5214137

As you can detect, Yoon Seungho did everything to revive his faith. He didn’t listen to his father’s words in the end. He chose love over hatred. He might be a sinner, but he is no longer self-destructive. But more importantly, he went to jail while carrying the light. (chapter 126) It is relevant, because light represents knowledge and truth. He is now the bearer of the truth. And he got his blessing from Baek Na-Kyum, when he touched his hands. (chapter 126) Because he came with the candle, Kim had no reason to follow him. In other words, Yoon Seungho no longer needs the butler by his side. But why didn’t the domestic follow him to the prison cell? It is because he feared that if the painter were to see him, his memory could get triggered. The artist could ask him where he was, when the scholar came to the mansion? (chapter 120) Yes, chapter 126 mirrors 92! This somehow confirms my theory that the butler was the one hiding under the purple hanbok. (chapter 92) Moreover, we have another reference to this episode, the pouring of alcohol! (chapter 92) (chapter 126) It was, as if someone wanted the lord to pay for Min’s insult! That’s the reason why I come to the following conclusion: Yoon Seungho is now opening up to Baek Na-Kyum. He is confessing to the painter about his wishes. (chapter 126) Therefore I am suspecting that the lord will reveal his past to his loved one, something he never did before. (chapter 85) The manhwaphiles should keep in mind that the request from the artist in the study was strongly connected to forgiveness. And Baek Na-Kyum could also confess what happened in the past: his guilt and regret asking for the lord’s forgiveness. Right now, both are blaming themselves for the incidents, although they got fooled by many schemers. Because the lord proved his loyalty and blinded trust in the painter, I see the scene in the jail as a new version of this confession: (chapter 75) Thus I consider the prison cell as a sacred place, where both characters are about to be freed from their guilt! (chapter 126) That’s the reason why now I view the lord’s short torment as a necessity. His faith was and is tested through the trials which coincides with the upcoming trial. Through his love for the painter, he found support and strength. He is not resigned, though their situation looks terrible. He is now true to himself. This means that he chose to drop his life lie for good.

And what was his life lie? To be powerful… (chapter 11) thus he could escape justice! (Chapter 11) Simultaneously, the first definition of life lie corresponds to Yoon Chang-Hyeon. The latter blames his eldest son for the downfall of the Yoons. ! (Chapter 86) Secondly, he still thinks that he is powerful. But it is just an illusion. (Chapter 126) How so? The guards are able to manipulate him. He has become their puppet, for he follows their suggestions. Hence they make decisions on their own (chapter 125). They fail their duty, for they allowed the main lead to barge in the room. (Chapter 126) Finally, observe how they keep apologizing without giving any explication. (Chapter 125) Their apology is fake. As you can see, the patriarch is living in an allusion. He is powerless, and the best evidence is that he doesn’t have the petition. (Chapter 125) He took the paper full of blood, the evidence of his involvement. This means that in this scene, (chapter 126) the elder master Yoon chose to maintain his life lie. This explains why he blames Yoon Seungho one more time. And this coincides with his speech about hatred. (Chapter 126) He is actually encouraging his son to hate himself and indirectly his own father! However, the son made the exact opposite decision: love!! Hence I am more than certain that the elder master is about to experience a harsh awakening.

On the other hand, the Manhwa lovers can grasp why I selected the title “dropped amusement”. Faith is something serious which stands in opposition to the gangrape in the shrine. Here, the lords had made fun of the spirits and gods. (chapter 101) Thus they got punished. And now, the two main leads are about to face human justice. (chapter 65) But strangely, the painter is showing no fear at all. (chapter 126) He is ready to sacrifice himself. So why was Yoon Seungho dressed up in the end? One might say that with the topknot and the hanbok, the abuse from the patriarch got covered up. That way, Baek Na-Kyum wouldn’t detect Yoon Chang-Hyeon’s lies and abandonment! (chapter 125) The latter brainwashed him to take the fall for everything, implying that way, his loved one would be protected! However, I am suspecting that if the lord were to leave the prison, he could meet someone in the office. That way, this person is not confronted with the reality: the main lead was “abused”. According to the butler, he was supposed to meet his brother at the office. (chapter 126) If the noble encounters his brother there, then Seungwon would appear as hypocrite, for he would feign “ignorance”. He was not there, when he got insulted by their father. However, he could meet someone else. (Chapter 92) In episode 92, we have a mysterious man in the background dressed in black, but he is not wearing his gat. Besides, I would like my avid readers to remember this image from the trailer: which reminds us of the office: (chapter 98) This place symbolizes power and strength. And because episode 126 is a reflection of chapter 7, 11, 29 and 40, I think, Yoon Seungho is about to receive a deal, for these episodes are focusing on the deal between the painter and the protagonist: protection from the father and punishment in exchange for entertainment. He would appear as a fake savior in the end. Remember what in episode 11 the artist said in front of his fated partner: (chapter 11) He would do anything except painting!! He was not willing to give up on this principle, which reminds us of faith. So when Yoon Seungho faced his father, he experienced powerlessness for one reason. (Chapter 126) They wanted to corner him, to make him desperate so that he would look for a way to become powerful! Moreover, they desired him to resent his father more than before. To conclude, he was pressured on purpose. And this brings me to the following remark. Why did the father describe the painter as “Plaything”? It is to minimize Baek Na-Kyum’s value in the lord’s life. However, if this theory about a new deal comes true (pedophile rekindling with him), then I believe that exactly like in episode 11, the lord will choose to follow his conscience and integrity over power and torment. He will make the same decision than his partner which corresponds to a rejection. However, I don’t think that he would make it obvious. He could fake submission.

5. Quit smoking

In fact, I have the impression that his memory could get triggered. What caught my attention is the absence of the pipe! According to me, the pedophile is a smoker, that’s how the main lead started smoking. But so far, the lord was not seen in connection with the pipe in season 4. This tool appeared on this drawing making fun of officials and the king (Chapter 105) Then in episode 122, we discover that lord Song employed the pipe to beat the painter. Moreover, I detected a progression. In season 2, Yoon Seungho was still smoking. (Chapter 74) But once the painter showed that he didn’t like smoking, Yoon Seungho stopped taking the drug. This explicates why in season 3, he was no longer seen with the item in his hand. Even under stress, he chose to hunt instead of smoking in front of the window. We have two scenes where the pipe is present. One is when the lord is throwing it out of anger,: (chapter 86) which reminded me of the incident with the music box. (Chapter 85) This shows that this item had no value to the protagonist. Then the pipe appeared in the gibang on the table. (Chapter 96) However, here the lord had only eyes for the painter or Heena. Hence I have the impression that the pipe could resurface and serve as an tool to identify the perpetrator, just like the glasses were used to recognize the scholar. (Chapter 102) Finally, since the pipe appeared in the gibang twice, it indicates that this hobby is linked to the kisaeng house!! And this brings me to my final observation: the pipe is connected to paper (chapter 121), just like in the erotic book of sodomy! (Chapter 1) (chapter 1) However, there exists two books!! And one has no PIPE! This coincides with the decision of the painter to stop drawing erotic pictures! Yes… dropped amusement! At the same time, Yoon Seungho has long lost his interest for erotic publications. He also dropped this hobby. On the other hand, the books were dropped in front of the painter. (Chapter 1) Finally, the petition was dropped in front of lord Song (chapter 123) which announced his death sentence. To conclude, the papers have a strong connection to punishment and death.

As you could see, Byeonduck had many reasons to create such a chapter in the end. We are definitely getting closer to the end. And before closing this essay, I would like to point out that the Yoons’ mansion had been left empty, yet neither his father nor his brother moved in!! (Chapter 126) Yoon Seungho went to the father’s mansion, and it didn’t take him that long! As you can see, I consider this trip with Yoon Seungwon as a diversion. (Chapter 121) So why didn’t the elder master return to his old home? It is to drive the Yoons out of their propriety. In other words, the lies from the past are becoming a reality exposing the liars in the end. Their life lies will be ruined.

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.

A Poem A Day/Jinx/ Painter Of The Night: The true Face of Family 👨‍👨‍👦‍👦👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

1. A Poem A Day and Family

The trigger for this essay was the K-drama A Poem a Day which I was recently rewatching. You might not know this, but I created this blog because of my analyses about K-dramas. Funny is that through them, I discovered Manhwas. That’s how I ended up reading BL-Manhwas which became my new passion. However, during my summer vacation, I was feeling nostalgic and melancholic, thus I decided to watch this terrific story “A Poem A Day” again. Like the title is implying, the story is revolving around poetry. In each episode, they included poems which were reflecting the situation, emotions and thoughts of characters in the series. And that’s how I came across this beautiful and touching poetry

The woman on the right is Woo Bo-Young. She is the protagonist of A Poem A Day. She loves poetry, but she couldn’t study Korean literature because of her family situation.

The poem gives a very good definition of family. A real family is when people share their pain, attachment and happiness. This signifies that their members have no secret, they are allowed to cry in front of others. Interesting is that the blanket, a pars pro toto for the bed, is a metaphor for the embrace. This explicates why in this image, the characters are presented as a family, as they are hugging each other. The blanket represents warmth and protection. Interesting is that this vision is rejecting the notion that men shouldn’t cry (“Cry together”). It doesn’t matter who is weeping. And now, it is time to examine more closely how this poem was illustrated in A Poem A Day.

In episode 6, Woo Bo-Young was spending the evening with her mother and her half-brother, for she needed comfort from her mother. When she was very young, her father died and left not only a huge amount of debts, but also an illegitimate son. That’s how Bo-Young and her mother discovered the existence of an affair. Despite everything, the mother decided to adopt him as her son. Because he didn’t share blood with Bo-Young’s mother, the woman made sure that he wouldn’t feel burdened or excluded. Thus she showered him with love and understanding which sometimes made Bo-Young question who was the real relative in this family. Though this jealousy is totally normal, this scene exposes their mutual affection. Simultaneously, this scene also displays the slowly drifting apart between Bo-Young and her half-brother and mother as well. At the restaurant, she didn’t share all her worries and emotions to her family. She didn’t get the comfort she had hoped. In other words, this poetry exposes her growing maturity and as such her quest to find a loved one! Yes, by finding a partner, Bo-Young will start her own family. On the other hand, this poem reflects how these 3 became a family as well.

And this drifting away is also symbolized by the birthday’s party Bo-Young organized for Lee Min-Ho. His own family had totally forgotten about his birthday. So when Bo-Young saw Min-Ho alone, she brought him to a buffet and offered him a cake. At the same time, the poem exposes the abandonment and betrayal from Lee Min-Ho’s family. He might live in comfort (“a sweet and soft ice-cream”), but he never felt part of his own family, for the parents only had eyes for the elder son. Thus they were never present for important events in his life. In other words, he could never voice his pain or share his joy and pride with them. He only caught their attention, when he caused trouble.

What caught my attention is that Choi Bum Young made a difference between “we become a family” and “be a family”. For him, family is not symbolized by sharing the same blood. The verb “become” insinuates not only change, but also something alive. Living under the same roof is not a synonym for family either (“No matter where you are”). As you can see, the house is not the symbol of a family. This means that the poem was exposing the existence of fake and true family. Under this new perspective, you comprehend why I selected such a title: The true face of family. Besides, the lyricist outlines that family is associated with hard work and trust. A family is created, when people feel safe and loved, but for that to happen, the members must open up their heart and their mind. That’s the reason why trust and respect are so vital. At the same time, the Manhwaphiles can grasp why the poet included the notion of effort. The person has to overcome the barrier, the fears. Hence it is not surprising that Choi Bum Young included the notion of struggles. Once the trust is there, the “you” is able to help the other. A real family is, when people face problems together. Therefore it is not surprising that the poetry emphasized the notion of “sharing”. The members should divulge their emotions and thoughts! Striking is the recurrence of the personal pronoun “You” which outlines the responsibility of a member. One has to share his agony or happiness to others first, if he wants to have a family. As long as the person doesn’t open up, there is no family. One has to take the first step and the others will follow. This explicates why the personal pronoun “you” turns into a WE! Thus this poem implies that Lee Min-Ho was partially responsible for his own suffering as well. He never shared his resent to his brother and parents. He should have argued with them much sooner, yet he let things happen. To conclude, family is not just made of sunshine and rainbows, but of clashes and troubles. Hence discussion is not excluded at all. To conclude, family symbolizes responsibility, faith, affection, communication, support and cover! The family is represented by the personal pronoun “we”.

As you can imagine, the moment I read this poem, I couldn’t help myself connecting it to Painter Of The Night and Jinx. Thus I decided to utilize the poetry as foundation in order to define the families in the Manhwas. Moreover, we can detect the evolution of families or we could say the loss and birth of a family. And the criteria in order to define a real family would be the embrace, the weeping and its acceptance, sharing the same cover, meals, secrets and emotions.

2. Family in Painter Of The Night

2. 1. Baek Na-Kyum’s “families”

When Na-Kyum had this dream, he was remembering his own family. (chapter 87) Not only the painter and the 3 noonas were sharing the same bed, but also they were taking their meals together. (chapter 87) They would even caress each other and laugh together. This scene oozes happiness. Consequently, it is no coincidence that during that night, they shared their honest thoughts to Baek Na-Kyum giving him good advices. But more importantly, the painter was there, when his noonas were struggling. (chapter 94) He cried in front of them. His tears symbolized his compassion and love for his noonas. He regarded them as his family. And it was the same for the artist. He had the noonas by his side, when he was in trouble or agony. (chapter 94) (chapter 107) However, at some point, it changed! (chapter 94) Jung In-Hun entered his life and consoled him. Thus I deduce that this image (chapter 68) represents a turning point in Baek Na-Kyum’s life. During that night, the scholar took away the young painter from Heena, hence he couldn’t help her. And now, observe the learned sir’s reaction. He didn’t allow the painter to cry. He shouldn’t share his pain. (chapter 70) In fact, he diverted Baek Na-Kyum’s attention from the incident to the moon. The learned sir was smiling the whole time. (chapter 70) He was acting, as if nothing had happened. The fact that he didn’t bear the tears from the painter exposes that the learned sir never considered him as a family. Therefore it is not surprising that he got abandoned, when the learned sir struggled: (chapter 75) But we have other scenes where Jung In-Hun didn’t behave like in the poem. When he discovered the truth, he had not been approached by Yoon Seungho due to his talent (chapter 19), he pushed away the painter. (chapter 19) He was mad, because Baek Na-Kyum was the cause for his sponsoring. (chapter 19) However, the family serves as pillar and protection. When the scholar’s pride got hurt, he rejected Baek Na-Kyum. He only approached the painter, when he needed him (chapter 10) (chapter 24) (chapter 35). (chapter 111) For me, in episode 10, he was definitely aware of the existence of a plot, thus he led the painter to the pavilion. Then in episode 24 and 35, he wanted the artist to spy on his benefactor. Finally, in episode 111, he knew that by taking away his former pupil, he would hurt Yoon Seungho, for he was aware of his affection for Baek Na-Kyum. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Jung In-Hun didn’t bid farewell to the main lead in episode 44. Baek Na-Kyum’s presence was not necessary for the preparation for the civil service examination. And this brings me to the last scene between the learned sir and the painter. (chapter 118) He is now crying in front of him, as if he was considering him as a part of his family. He is trying to create the illusion that he shares his suffering, just like he shared his happiness during the parade. (chapter 111) But in the gibang, the learned sir changed his attitude towards his former pupil, for he kissed the painter. (chapter 117) It was, as if the former was starting his family. Baek Na-Kyum is now his “bride”. But naturally, everything is just an illusion. Why? It is because the Manhwaphiles never saw Jung In-Hun share his bed or room with the artist! (chapter 27) (chapter 38) He was also never seen taking his meals with him. This explicates why he never visited him, when the painter was sick. In fact, the learned sir is connected to the air and the courtyard. That’s the reason why he is always seen roaming around with Baek Na-Kyum (10: pavilion, 18-19-27-35-44: courtyard, countryside/city: 29-37-70 and ) But more importantly, he is not sharing his true thoughts and emotions to the young man. (chapter 118) He never explained how his face got bruised! This shows that he approached Na-Kyum for one reason. He was in trouble and he needed him. But he acted, as if he was becoming responsible for him. (chapter 118) (chapter 118) He didn’t expect a rejection. Why? It is because now, he was treating the main lead as family member. Nonetheless, don‘t get me wrong. In Joseon, servants were considered as a part of the household and as such of the „family“. I don‘t believe that the teacher views Baek Na-Kyum as an equal. Yet, the latter is in reality a free man. (chapter 118) Thus out of fear, he made a false love confession which resembles a lot to obsession and possessiveness. His words display his worries and despair. Another important aspect is the absence of the personal pronoun “we” in their conversation. We only have “you” and “me”. (chapter 118) (chapter 118) There is no union. Because he didn’t take the protagonist’s feelings into consideration, this “seduction” was doomed to fail. Thus I deduce that when the learned sir trampled on Baek Na-Kyum’s heart and loyalty in the library, (chapter 40), the latter learned the following lesson: Jung In-Hun had never been his new family. That’s the reason why he was so wounded. Therefore it is no coincidence that his karma is to be abandoned the moment he needs Baek Na-Kyum the most. But why did he not consider the painter as a family member? It is because he came from the gibang. Moreover, he was blinded by his desire to succeed on his own, not realizing the true role of a family.

And this brings me back to Heena and the noonas. The moment Jung In-Hun meddled in the painter’s life, the relationship between the noonas and Baek Na-Kyum deteriorated! And this coincides to these nights: (chapter 86) (chapter 107) The sexual abuse is something they hid from Baek Na-Kyum! They could never share such a burden with the protagonist. But there is more to it. In fact, Byeonduck illustrated the slow deterioration of Na-Kyum’s s family in season 2, 3 and 4. First, the painter couldn’t talk to his noonas like in the past: (chapter 46) He was forbidden to announce his departure which indicates that Heena was hiding something from the other kisaengs. Moreover, notice that he never talked back to Heena. He listened to her, though he was in pain. (chapter 46) He could only express his sadness with his tears. Then when Heena reentered his life, she was seen next to his bed while hugging. by his side (chapter 66) This means that she would no longer share his cover. This is no coincidence that in the gibang, the noona could no longer enter her brother’s room. (chapter 96) Little by little, Heena got excluded from the painter’s life. She could no longer share her meals with him. (chapter 93) This explicates why in season 4, Baek Na-Kyum can not penetrate Heena’s room. (chapter 105) She is hiding more and more things from her brother: her “illness”, her involvement in the murder of nobles and her lies. On the other hand, the painter still considered her as a part of his family because of her intervention in episode 68/69: (chapter 68) Their argument was reflecting their trust, though here the kisaeng was questioning her brother’s maturity. Due to her concerns, Baek Na-Kyum felt that they were still a family. However, I sense a rupture, when they argued in the kisaeng house. The artist was no longer trusting Heena’s words: (chapter 97) Interesting is that from that moment on, Baek Na-Kyum and Heena never faced each other! She didn’t join his side during the parade. This means that their argument in the kisaeng house represents their last reunion. And what did Heena do in this scene? She cried (chapter 97), while the painter didn’t, though he looked disturbed. (chapter 97) He lost all his colors. However, such a scene could be perceived as a sign of indifference, especially for the kisaeng. And this observation made me realize why the kisaeng asked Yoon Seungho not to reveal his suspicions about Jung In-Hun’s involvement to her brother. (chapter 105) Here, she implied that Baek Na-Kyum would cry out of pain and shock. But she had seen that he had shared no tears, when he heard about his murder: And it happened again in the shrine. (chapter 99) Simultaneously, the request from Heena exposes that they are no longer sharing agony and as such struggles. Moreover, this made me realize why the artist left the mansion after the nightmare. It was out of fear and obligation. For me, he had sensed that Heena liked the learned sir and as she was still part of his family, he had to make sure that this was not true. Yet, even after witnessing the faked crime scene, he still trusted Yoon Seungho. Hence I am deducing that the absence of tears is the trigger for their separation which stands in opposition to their embrace in the mansion: (chapter 66) . (chapter 68) And what was her reaction, when she saw her brother in tears and yelling at his lover?: (chapter 105) She remained silent, passive and rather indifferent. This impression gets reinforced, when she is lying next to her colleagues. She is not sharing her thoughts and emotions, rather pensive contrary to these kisaengs: (chapter 105) She is even turning her back to them. This displays the dissolution of this family. The kisaeng is no longer sharing her fears, her tears and emotions to others. Therefore she can not sense “happiness or relief” like the others.

But the gradual alienation between the protagonist and his noonas becomes more perceptible in season 3. In episode 93, they could share their happiness (chapter 93), but the moment the lord joined his side, the honesty started vanishing. Notice that the painter couldn’t talk about his past (how he met Yoon Seungho and how he got abandoned by Jung In-Hun). It was reduced to “I was caught up with something”. He had so many secrets that he couldn’t share to his noonas. And it was the same for the kisaengs. (chapter 93) They also had secrets, hence they were seen whispering. Baek Na-Kyum could confide less to Heena. Why? He sensed that the kisaengs might show no understanding. And note how the painter reacted, when he met his noonas in episode 105. (chapter 105) He lied to his noona, he didn’t voice his worries. He didn’t enjoy his time spent by the kisaengs’ side. He didn’t eat with them either. This is the sign that he was moving on, he was on the verge of starting his new family. In other words, this scene (chapter 105) corresponds to the bird flying from the nest which was witnessed by Heena and the kisaengs. Because the painter was not sincere to his noonas, it is not surprising that they acted the same way. Here, (chapter 105), the kisaeng’s words are a reference to loss of virginity. Yet the painter didn’t grasp the true meaning. Only in his dream and nightmare, he realized the significance of her words: (chapter 109) Hence I come to the conclusion that we are witnessing to the birth of Baek Na-Kyum’s new family: Yoon Seungho. (chapter 118) That’s the reason why the painter decided to run away with his lover. (chapter 118) However, in order to become a real family, the painter needs to call his husband like this: (chapter 72) Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the noonas were no longer entirely honest with Baek Na-Kyum in the gibang. They couldn’t share their thoughts and secrets to the artist, as they had played a role in the separation of the couple (chapter 99) and the nobles’ execution. Besides, they also had secrets which they had to hide from their donsaeng.

2. 2. Yoon Seungho’s family

He never had a family to begin with. Why? First, the mother was neglecting him because of her hatred for her husband. This is what Byeonduck revealed. From my point of view, her detachment towards Yoon Seungho was linked to the first sexual experience and that her first son would resemble her husband. As for Yoon Chang-Hyeon, the father had definitely troubles with him. (chapter 57) I believe that it is related to the protagonist’s sensibility and intelligence. My assumption is that Yoon Seungho is a Highly Sensitive Person.

Therefore due to his particular personality, he could not share his thoughts and emotions to Yoon Chang-Hyeon and his brother, hence he expressed his emotions through painting. Moreover, due to his ambitious father, pranks were not well perceived. Therefore it is not surprising that he was forced to face adversity on his own, for he had no protection. Interesting is that Yoon Chang-Hyeon views the ancestors (chapter 85), his second son and even lord Song as his family (chapter 116) Hence they are sharing a drink, their secrets and emotions together, though it is obvious that the man in purple is deceiving the patriarch. However, the elder master still trusts and listens to his words. (chapter 107)

And what about Kim, the so-called faiithful butler? Was he not his surrogate father? It is the same. The latter never considered him as his family. Don’t forget what the butler said to the painter. (chapter 26) The latter was not allowed to cry! Therefore the artist heard the same reproach from the main lead. (chapter 26) The valet disliked the tears, because he refused to share the suffering. The reason is simple. If he did, this would have increased his guilt. Furthermore, Kim never shared the cover or his meals with Yoon Seungho in the past (chapter 83) and in the present. Here, (chapter 17) he even refused to bring him his breakfast. But one might argue that Kim cried in front of the protagonist in the shed, he even expressed regrets: (chapter 108) So we could assume that he was starting to view the main lead as a family member. But no… for me, it is just an illusion. First, note that he never let the lord see his gaze while weeping. Besides, the noble’s heart was not moved either. They were not crying together, a sign that the two were drifting apart. Moreover, in the shed, the valet never shared the information about the fire at the shrine. (chapter 108) The noble had to use threat and force in order to push the butler to voice his thoughts. Finally, at the end, the valet never vowed his loyalty to Yoon Seungho, but to Baek Na-Kyum. (chapter 108) Moreover, like exposed above, family in the poem symbolizes trust, love, responsibility, comfort and protection, but the valet failed to fulfil his duties which he admitted in the shed. As a conclusion, the butler didn’t keep such a promise. Moreover, what did the butler do after the painter’s abduction? (chapter 64) (chapter 64) He ran away. He never saved the painter, just like he didn’t argue with his master in that moment. But he could have, since the latter had no sword by his side. Imagine that he had a heated discussion with Yoon Seungho the very next day, and in the courtyard, the protagonist had the sword in the hand. (chapter 68) A sign that he knew that the noble would never slay him! And in the past, the valet had not come to his rescue, shared his suffering or defended his honor. And now, you comprehend why I am more than ever convinced that the valet was never Yoon Seungho’s family: no tear, no joy or no secret shared! His expression “bird of misfortune” embodies the gap between the two characters.

And that’s how I realized why the staff never cared for the couple in the end. It is because the staff would eat together, while Yoon Seungho and Baek Na-Kyum got excluded. In season 4, Yoon Seungho was even forced to give up on his own room for the painter and the maids (chapter 109) The latter would even get the opportunity to eat sweets and sit in the patio (chapter 109), while the lord was relegated to the courtyard. (chapter 109) And the poem mirrors perfectly the birth of Yoon Seungho’s first family. Baek Na-Kyum is his very first family. Thus he could share his pain, his fears, his resent, (chapter 62) and his hope to be happy for one moment: (chapter 63) I selected the terrible scene in the shed for two reasons. It symbolizes the verse “how to become a family”. This explicates why in season 3, the artist was slowly using the personal pronoun “we”. (chapter 78) This means that the two protagonists were learning how to become a true family. And one of this important step was “crying together” which occurred after the sexual abuse in the shrine, (chapter 102) However, Yoon Seungho had to learn the importance of “secrecy”! He kept his crime from his loved one hidden, not understanding that a real family is to “endure all hardships” together. Consequently, I judge this night as the finalization of their “Wedding”, though it is still not official. During this night, we have all the criteria. They share their worries (chapter 110), their happiness (chapter 110), they sit together while eating (chapter 110), they embrace each other, they share the same bed. And the lord makes the following promise: there won’t be any secret between them. He will share everything with his lover. (chapter 110) So when the brother gave the petition to the artist (chapter 116), he even reinforced their bond. It was, as if they had no longer any secret between them. Thus they talked about the document in the pavilion making sure that no one would listen to their discussion. (chapter 117) Therefore, it is not surprising that during that same night, the couple slept under the same blanket while hugging each other. (chapter 117) The symbol for the new family! But a family is not made just of two members! Is Yoon Seungwon a part of Yoon Seungho’s family? Let’s not forget that he considered the artist as his brother’s wife. (chapter 116) What caught my attention is that Yoon Seungho was not followed by his lover, when he met his brother in the gibang. (chapter 118) And this reminded me of this scene: (chapter 37) He wished to send away the artist, but the host refused. Then if you pay attention to his behavior, you will notice that none of them were seen eating together! (chapter 118) Neither in the mansion nor in the kisaeng house. The table between them symbolizes the gap between them. Another important detail is that his brother didn’t serve him a drink which is actually a custom in Joseon. (chapter 118) Compare it to Black Heart’s behavior: (chapter 43) In fact, the two guests were drinking on their own! Yoon Seungwon had even started drinking before the protagonist’s arrival. (chapter 118) Moreover, exactly like the scholar, Yoon Seungwon is just employing the pronouns “you”, “I” and “father”. There is no WE at all. (chapter 118) Moreover, he doesn’t want to share the pain and suffering with his father. And while he shared a secret with Yoon Seungho in the past, (chapter 118), I believe that he is hiding something from his brother again. Thus we see constantly him with a drop of sweat. (chapter 118) (chapter 118) Striking is that he is at no moment mentioning the painter, which actually represents the lord’s source of comfort and joy! He is more talking about the past than the present. He is hoping for a change of heart. That’s the reason why I come to the conclusion that Yoon Seungwon called the main lead as brother (chapter 118), but it is only a name! In reality, he desires to use the main lead. He needs him more than ever! Let’s not forget that the patriarch could discover Yoon Seungwon’s betrayal at any moment. Finally, I would like to outline that family stands for effort and understanding, nevertheless the younger master never showed compassion or worries for his brother, who had just recovered from a stabbing. His speech was full of blame. (chapter 118) Thus I conclude that Yoon Seungwon is not a part of Yoon Seungho’s new family and his smile in the library was fake. His words were just a lip service. (chapter 116) Don’t forget that during the same night, Yoon Seungho got stabbed and the younger master knew it.

And now it is time to examine the families in Jinx.

3. Family in Jinx

3.1. Kim Dan’s family

It is clear that though the grandma moved to the hospital (chapter 22), the physical therapist still views her as his family. This corresponds to the verse “no matter where you are”. This explains why he listened to her and started treating the champion differently. From my point of view, they became a family, because they slept under the same cover (chapter 21), shared their agony, fears (chapter 5) and their happiness together, though this needs to be relativized. (chapter 11). I will give more details later. Another evidence that they are family is that the grandmother would often sing him songs. Then we could say that the grandmother shares her meals with the doctor, for she is often saving yoghurts for her grandson. (chapter 05) She is happy, when she hears good news from her grandson. (chapter 07) When she feels lonely or miserable, she asks for his presence. (chapter 21)

Furthermore, she often caresses her grandson, a different form of embrace. (chapter 5) Nevertheless, there exist two negative aspects. First, I noticed that she didn’t question Kim Dan about his career, only when it was necessary. (chapter 07) She is not that involved in his current life. (chapter 05) Secondly, what caught my attention is that the halmoni is not letting her grandson weep. With her attitude, she implied that he had overreacted (“Now, now none of that”). (chapter 21) Moreover, the poem outlined the necessity of crying together (“be able to cry together”), yet the halmoni was not upset, when she found the little Dan in tears. She didn’t understand his abandonment issues. Thus I deduce that the shared agony was only in one way! If the grandmother was scared or suffering, her grandson should feel the same. (chapter 5) This explicates why Kim Dan was willing to sacrifice himself for his halmoni. (chapter 16) It is because he knew that her grandmother disliked tears. Besides, in a previous essay, I had already outlined that such an attitude was considered as abusive, for such a young child should have been shielded from harm. However, he was exposed to violence very early on. Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why Kim Dan started having secrets from her. Finally, the family portrayed in the poem implied the notion of effort and work. But the moment the grandmother refused to share his agony, she stopped putting energy in her relationship with Kim Dan. This means that as time passed on, she became more and more passive and relied more and more on the main lead. Another interesting aspect is that Kim Dan came to enjoy K-dramas because of his grandmother. (chapter 30) This shows that Kim Dan’s preferences are all influenced by the halmoni. We could say that he didn’t truly develop his own identity. It was, as if he had become the second version of “grandma”. And now, you comprehend why he rejected sex: (chapter 20)

Therefore it is not surprising that as time passes on, they are slowly drifting apart. Notice that he barely visited his grandmother. (chapter 30) Because the grandmother didn’t allow her grandson to share his struggles (no tears), Kim Dan has been hiding many things from his grandmother (chapter 07): the beatings from Heo Manwook, his firing from the hospital, the sexual assault from the perverted hospital director and the moneylender, his deal with Joo Jaekyung and the fact that he moved to the penthouse. This means that little by little, the physical therapist is sharing less and less his happiness with her. I doubt that he told her about his trip to Busan, his first MMA fight as spectator (chapter 15) and his first sparring with Joo Jaekyung (chapter 26). But this is a sign that Kim Dan is maturing. Therefore it is no coincidence that after their first day off spent together, Kim Dan is already under the champion’s spell. (chapter 30) And at some point, the grandma will notice her little boy’s transformation and the growing distance. And Choi Heesung could be the trigger for a first quarrel (chapter 30), because the doctor feels more attracted towards the champion than the actor. I have already outlined that so far, the physical therapist’s life had been determined by the grandmother. But a discussion is not necessarily a bad thing, quite the opposite, for to be a family means to share thoughts and emotions.

3.2. Joo Jaekyung’s “families”

So far, we don’t know if the celebrity has a family. However, what caught my attention is that Team Black is a company that Joo Jaekyung created for his personal needs. Though it is an enterprise (incorporation, where he is the shareholder), I noticed that Park Namwook treats the members like a family. They share their meals together (chapter 22) (chapter 26), they get support from each other (chapter 14) (chapter 23) or they argue (chapter 07). Moreover, they call the older members “hyung” (chapter 5) (chapter 23) which is another evidence that Team Black functions more like a family than like a company. What caught my attention is that the doctor is not addressed as hyung (chapter 30) but as Doc Dan or doc. (chapter 23), though the manager Park Namwook had introduced him as hyung. (chapter 07) The reason behind this different title is the champion. The latter addressed him like that: (chapter 22) It exposes that the physical therapist occupies a particular position at the gym. On the one hand, it could be interpreted that he has not been entirely adopted as a family member. On the other hand, the physical therapist didn’t exclude that he could have other clients. (chapter 25) This means that his “adoption” is not definitive and official. Nevertheless, I would like to outline that though Team Black’s structure resembles a lot to a family, we can not say that it is a true family. Why? It is because Joo Jaekyung is hiding many things from his hyungs and members. He is not sharing his problems to his coach (his insomnia, his jinx, his sexual orientation, his insecurities eg). Imagine that he preferred deceiving his admirer (chapter 15) than admitting that his shoulder had been plaguing him. And it is the same for Potato. He didn’t talk about the incident with the office room and the sofa. (chapter 25) According to me, Jeong Yosep knows about the true relationship between the physical therapist and the alpha black wolf. But he kept this information to himself as well. However, like pointed out before, family stands for communication and not secrecy! Moreover, so far, we only saw the fighters share their happiness. And what about their struggles or defeat? To conclude, Jinx is actually showing us the transformation of Team Black as company into a family. How they “become” a WE! Park Namwook does consider Team Black as his gym, but he has his own family. However, this is not the case for Jeong Yosep or Joo Jaekyung, who lives as a loner wolf! In my opinion, Team Black will turn into a real family, the moment Kim Dan loses his halmoni. Remember the quote from the poem: “If you can’t say you’re hurt when you feel hurt you’re not family“. Kim Dan won’t be able to hide his sadness and broken heart. In the beginning of the story, he lied to the coach and Kwak Junbeom about the reason for his injuries: (chapter 11), because he considered them as superior and colleagues. In other words, the fighters will share their pain with doc Dan helping him to overcome the loss. But this change can only happen, when the owner of Team Black has a change of heart himself as well. Remember how he pushed Oh Daehung and the other members away. (chapter 22) He didn’t want them to come to his house. (chapter 22) So far, he didn’t want people to cross the line, but thanks to the physical therapist, this will change. That’s how both protagonists will come to view more and more Team Black as a family. They will share their struggles and happy moments together. I have one evidence that Kim Dan is the key to turn Team Black into a real family. It is because Joo Jaekyung came to the gathering (chapter 9), though he had been avoiding such events in the past.

But in chapter 30, the Manhwalovers could discover that the champion belongs to an Entertainment agency as well. (chapter 30) But he is there an employee. Thus I am suspecting that the talent agency is working differently from Team Black. If there is a scandal, I doubt that the company would side with the star in trouble or they would try to find ways to get rid of the issue, like finding a scapegoat in order to bury the truth. As a conclusion, I am expecting to see companies run differently so that the readers can perceive Team Black as a family company, although it is an incorporation.

Naturally, there is no doubt that Kim Dan will become the champion’s real family. The author let us see such a scene. Right after their First Night together, the champion shared his bed with Kim Dan. (chapter 4) This was a reference to the blanket in the poem, though here Kim Dan slept in a cocoon. This was a sign that he didn’t feel safe. However, as time passed on, I detected a change in Kim Dan’s sleeping position. He is lying on his back and even in the middle of the bed. (chapter 29) It is because Joo Jaekyung always put him there! This exposes that the champion is still thinking that he represents a disturbance to the Sleeping beauty. One thing is sure: Joo Jaekyung will become the blanket taking over the grandmother’s past role: (chapter 21) At the same time, this signifies that Kim Dan will have a similar function in the champion’s life either. Thanks to his presence and embrace, the boxer will be able to relax and to fall asleep.

Another important detail is the doctor’s tears. When Kim Dan met the celebrity for the first time, the former started crying, when he thought hat he would get punished. (chapter 1) This was the reaction from the champion: (chapter 1) He questioned the cause for the tears. He was naturally annoyed (“the hell”), but he didn’t make fun of the doctor. And now, pay attention to the memory Joo Jaekyung had from their first night. He remembered his tears which had moved him deeply: (chapter 6) This shows that the celebrity is not judging the physical therapist as weak due to his tears. In episode 28, he even showed concerns, when he heard the doctor crying. (chapter 28) (chapter 28) He questioned the doctor once again, why he was in tears. However, he didn’t ask the doctor to stop weeping or to wipe his tears. He wanted to understand him. This exposes the fighter’s tolerance and interest in Kim Dan. For me, it reveals that Joo Jaekyung is willing to share the pain or fears with Kim Dan. Therefore it is not surprising that Kim Dan is remembering this moment! (chapter 30) He was allowed to express his emotions. Interesting is that this image is now connected to red, not to grey/black. (chapter 20) or orange/pink (chapter 30) The switch of color indicates the doctor’s increasing feelings and sensuality for Joo Jaekyung. That’s the reason why I am expecting that one day, the two protagonists will cry together, something that the grandma hasn’t done until now.

But let’s return our attention to the poem and its illustration in Jinx. A sweet and soft ice cream cone isn’t enough to become a family. Just because they shared one meal together (chapter 13), it doesn’t signify that they are a family now. And it is the same for the penthouse. (chapter 18) They might share the same flat, but the penthouse is so huge that they can technically live apart. Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan are slowly spending more and more time together, either because the champion feels like it (chapter 19) or it is necessary . (chapter 27) During the day off, they shared their thoughts,, their emotions (chapter 27) (chapter 27), their happiness (chapter 28) and their fears (chapter 27) (chapter 29) Because Joo JAekyung confessed his fears and health issues to Kim Dan, it shows that he was trusting him. For me, this night represents another step how to become a true family. “If you can’t say you’re hurt when you feel hurt you’re not family.” This day and night were so magical that it affected the protagonists’ life forever. From that moment on, Kim Dan is feeling more attracted to the champion, hence he is peeping at him. (chapter 30) And it is the same for the champion. Now, he is slowly regretting that they live in two different rooms and they have their own bathroom. Therefore he came to the doctor’s bathroom under the fake excuse that he had run out of toothpaste. (chapter 30) What was so funny is that he had opened the door like a huge bear. Why? It is because he was so annoyed how to explain his intrusion. (chapter 30) This shows that little by little, the champion is regretting his words to Kim Dan in the master’s room. (chapter 29) For me, he will be forced to recognize that work is not bringing him closer to Kim Dan, especially after Choi Heesung met the main lead. (chapter 30) For me, this scene is the bathroom represents another step how to become a true family. (chapter 30) However, like Mingwa voiced it, they have a long way to go, for Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan are hiding their true thoughts and emotions from each other. (chapter 30) Kim Dan had to hide his blushing, while the champion had to lie for his appearance. Moreover, the fact that he tried to hide his underwear (chapter 30) indicates that their intimacy has not reached its peak. He doesn’t feel comfortable around the athlete to be seen in underwear. Moreover, the champion is also hiding his jealousy and possessiveness towards the main character. (chapter 30) But like I said, they need to open up their hearts and mind in order to become a true family. From my point of view, the halmoni could play a huge role in their union. How so? It is because she entrusted her grandson to Joo Jaekyung. The latter also conversed with her (chapter 21) and even paid her hospital bills. She even took his hand (chapter 22) and gave him a yoghurt. (chapter 21) So the moment the grandma vanishes, it could also wound the champion’s heart, especially when his sex partner is so heartbroken. It would be interesting if the champion came to voice his feelings about her. If you can’t say you’re hurt when you feel hurt you’re not family.

And because the champion saved Kim Dan, paid off the debts and gave him a house and a place to feel safe, he embodies responsibility, trust, support and protection which is the true face of family. That’s the reason why the physical therapist is slowly transforming, developing his own interests and as such his own identity. But the closer the doctor gets to the champion, the bigger gap becomes between him and his grandma which can represent a source of conflict. And now, Choi Heesung met Kim Dan, thus he could disrupt the fragile harmony between Kim Dan, the grandma and Joo Jaekyung. Don’t forget that the grandmother is a huge fan of the actor and she is actually suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome. To conclude, Jinx is exactly like Painter Of The Night. We are witnessing the start of a new family breaking boundaries and taboos. Yet, both “families” are real and true, for they embody selflessness, honesty and trust.

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Painter Of The Night: «Thank god 🙏 he didn’t see nor hear a thing about that awful matter »

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The title of this essay comes from the following picture: (chapter 105) „Thank god, he didn’t see nor hear a thing about that awful matter“. This is what Heena said in the original version. [Here I would like to thank my follower @katamins again for her help]

1. Heena’s words

What caught my attention is that in the Korean version, the kisaeng employed the expression „Thank god“, displaying not only her relief but also her religiousness. In my eyes, Byeonduck‘s intention was to expose Heena‘s religion one more time, she is a Christian. Another important aspect is that her statement implies that Baek Na-Kyum can not testify about „that awful matter“, for he saw and heard nothing. The problem is the idiom „that awful matter“ is really ambiguous. Which incident is she referring to? Yoon Seungho‘s crime in the shaman’s house or her „murder“? While many readers only thought about Black heart’s execution, I believe that the noona was referring to her own “execution” as well. Why? It is because the lord refused Baek Na-Kyum to see his own sister. (chapter 105) He desired to spare his heart. To conclude, “that awful matter” is referring to the whole prank and its consequences.

On the other hand, in the English version the kisaeng‘s declaration is more precise. Because of the expression „that terrible day“, it becomes obvious that Heena is referring to her lies and manipulations in the gibang. (Chapter 97) At the same time, the idiom includes the staff‘s tricks as well: the corpse in front of the gate and the maids‘ badmouthing (Chapter 97) (chapter 98), because it happened during the day and at downfall. Due to this expression, the readers can detect the presence of Yoon Seungho’s white lie. The painter had clearly mentioned what he had heard before. (Chapter 104) However, he had been silenced by his lover, when the latter suggested to him to view everything as a nightmare. The lord made the mistake not to listen to the victim and witness.

On the other hand, if we take the noona‘s original testimony into consideration, we get the impression that the artist can not testify about the night of his „abduction“ and the murders . It is because he didn‘t see or hear anything. Since the painter was unconscious, when the lord arrived, the latter truly believes that his companion saw and heard nothing. Thus Baek Na-Kyum has no memory. He knows nothing, hence he can not remember a thing: (chapter 105) With such a contrast, the manhwalovers can detect the link between ignorance and absence of memories. To conclude, in both versions, the main lead is “lying” out of ignorance. This is the positive version of “ignorance is a blessing”. Hence the noona thinks herself safe.

But like I have already pointed out in the previous analysis, the painter was present, when she revealed her complicity. (Chapter 99) It was clear that her brother would meet the noble, as their meeting didn’t surprise her. She was more upset that Baek Na-Kyum was unconscious. (chapter 99) However, her question „What’s wrong with Na-Kyum?“ divulges her hypocrisy and acting. How could she not realize that her sibling had been beaten? (Chapter 99) His head was bleeding, and the black guards were carrying sticks. It was clear that his state was not caused by an illness. To conclude, the calling “lord Jihwa” is the proof of her complicity, though in front of Yoon Seungho it serves as an excuse to portray herself as a victim. (chapter 105) Thus I deduce that Heena thinks, the painter could not witness her acting in front of the scholar’s house, for his head was turned around and he was not moving. She feels secure concerning that night, while I am expecting the opposite. Nonetheless, her past behavior in the kisaeng house represents a source of danger for her. That’s the reason why she has to hide the “attempted murder” from her brother. The moment Heena mentions that she has been hurt, the painter won’t believe her. Why? It is because in the kisaeng house, he has not forgotten her words: (chapter 97) Even if she was “fooled”, the artist can only reproach her stupidity. Remember her harsh words, she had called him stupid: (chapter 97) She had helped Min, and she can not claim ignorance. As you can see, Yoon Seungho was encouraged to hide the “attempted murder” from Baek Na-Kyum for selfish reasons. Therefore it is no coincidence that when the lord visited Heena, he made sure that his lover wouldn‘t see Heena in bed. (Chapter 105) The painter was kept in the dark about her “failed assassination”. It was, as if this had never happened. Yoon Seungho was convinced that if Baek Na-Kyum heard about this, he would feel guilty. Indirectly, he was blamed for her injuries. On the other hand, this decision has huge repercussions. It was, as if Yoon Seungho was erasing the traces of the attempted murder against Heena. It was, as if it had never taken place, which is correct, for it had been a subterfuge. Hence later she can not claim that she has been a victim of the nobles’ brutality.

Finally, I would like to point out that the head-kisaeng was acting as a poor victim in front of Yoon Seungho. Imagine that a month has already passed, but she is still in bed, (chapter 105) though she was not beaten, slapped and punched like her brother. Don’t you find it weird that she remains in bed, though she can still walk? (chapter 105) She has now the perfect excuse to avoid nobles. She has been hurt, hence she can not work. The lord never questioned her attitude, for he wished himself that the painter would take a rest and remain in bed. (Chapter 104) This explicates why later the lord was hugging his lover under the cover. (Chapter 104) Hence I conclude that Heena must have thought the same way about Yoon Seungho. „Thank god, he didn’t see or hear a thing about that awful matter“. He has no idea about her altercations with her brother in the kisaeng house. It is important, because our beloved seme has the impression that the noona has her brother’s best interests at heart, but actually he is wrong. In my opinion, the relationship between Heena and his lover serves as a mirror to his relationship with Yoon Seungwon. So far, the young noble doesn’t suspect his brother to have betrayed him. Note that he blames his father more than his younger sibling.

2. Memory illusions

While reading episode 105, we discovered how Heena was saved. (chapter 105) Yet, this incident was presented as Yoon Seungho’s memory. This panel could be used as an evidence that my theory, Heena was present next to the shaman’s shrine during the bloodbath, was wrong. Nonetheless, this image didn’t make me change my mind. Why? I paid attention to details and judged this rescue as “fake” again. The servants had a drop of sweat on their face, the symbol for deception. Secondly, the kisaeng was wet, while the staff’s clothes weren’t damp. How did they save her then? Besides, where are the foot prints? Moreover, where was the head cover? (chapter 99) Finally, her hands and feet were not tied. So where did the items go? Since we saw her “execution”, we are the witnesses, and as such we know the truth about that “awful matter”, but it is not the case for the lord. This image contains so many errors, hence it can not reflect reality.

This observation led me to the following question: when did the rescue happen exactly? Besides, how could the lord have seen her, when he could barely leave the painter’s side? He spent the whole night with the painter. (chapter 103) Hence he could have never been outside the mansion. That’s how I realized that the author was presenting us a false memory. This means that the manhwalovers are facing an implanted memory. But how could this happen? First, false memory is quite normal and is often of no consequence. But a false memory relayed during criminal testimony might lead to the conviction of an innocent person. As the manhwalovers can detect, it represents a serious problem.

In fact, everyone is prone to false memory distortions, but people with mental illness are more susceptible to “memory illusion”. It is the same for persons who have issues to differentiate between reality and fiction. Since Yoon Seungho is suffering from PTSD and often questions his sense of reality, (chapter 58), it makes him particularly vulnerable to false memories.

But how is it possible to implant fake memories? Let’s not forget that memory is working with associations, as the former is a network of cells. Thus the connections between these cells can been severed. And the moment the cells are reconnected, the brain is trying to fill the blanks. And that’s how false memories can arise. But there exist more factors.

First, it is related to inaccurate perception.

“Sometimes we see things that aren’t there and miss obvious things that are right in front of us.” Quoted from https://www.verywellmind.com/how-do-false-memories-form-2795349

We have the perfect example in episode 105. Because of the butler’s following testimony (chapter 104), the lord and even the readers imagined to see medicine in the white bowl! (chapter 105) Besides, the author had always connected the drug with the tray. (chapter 23) As you can see, the readers interpreted this scene due to associations. Nonetheless, like mentioned in the previous analysis, the different color and the traces on the edge were the evidences that it was ink. (chapter 36) Besides, Heena was in bed indicating that she was still weak. The circumstances led people to have a different perception of “verity”!! Only through the mind’s eye, the manhwalovers can detect that this scene was staged.

Then the other cause is interference. This signifies that as soon as new information appears, it can affect old memories or the reverse. Experience, prejudice and knowledge have an influence on memories.

“Our minds try to fill in the missing spaces, often using current knowledge as well as beliefs or expectations.” Quoted from https://www.verywellmind.com/how-do-false-memories-form-2795349

And this aspect is visible in the lord’s memory either. (chapter 105) Observe that the servant on the right is acting like Yoon Seungho: (chapter 103) The protagonist projected his own thoughts and emotions onto one servant: shock! (chapter 105) Secondly, the kisaeng has the same body posture than the painter after the first abduction. (chapter 61) This was interference by excellence. Besides, emotions can affect your memories. Since the lord was so under shock after witnessing the painter’s unconsciousness, it is not surprising that he imagined to have witnessed this scene. At the same time, when he left the shrine in trance, he could have overlooked the presence of a third person… similar to Lee Jihwa next to the shed. That’s how he doesn’t recall anything from that night except his crime. He didn’t see and hear the person by his side. Where is the sword? Where did he get the hanbok from?

“Researchers have found that people tend to be more likely to remember events connected to strong emotions, but that the details of such memories are often suspect. Retelling important events can also lead to a false belief in the accuracy of the memory.” Quoted from https://www.verywellmind.com/how-do-false-memories-form-2795349

And now, you have the explanation why the lord is blaming his father the entire time and no one else. Finally, I would like to remind the readers that the main lead had tried to commit suicide during that night. Thus he went to the pound. (chapter 102) Therefore it is not astonishing that he imagined a similar scenery.

Another cause for false memory is misinformation. And we have the perfect illustration in chapter 1: (chapter 1) Baek Na-Kyum thought to have seen “Yoon Seungho” as huge sodomite, yet he only connected the name to the face after meeting the lord for the first time. (chapter 1) This shows that the artist had only heard his name without seeing his face before. This explicates why the main lead’s gaze and facial expressions were similar (chapter 1) (chapter 1)

As you can see, Byeonduck left many clues for this interpretation: the noona’s rescue was fake, for it was a false memory. Finally, since the lord was present, when the servants had “discovered” Baek Na-Kyum, the negative reflection would be that he was not gone himself there. Finally, we have the confession from Yoon Seungho, he never saved her. Indirectly, he was admitting that he had not assisted them. (chapter 105)

As you can see, this image was the result of a combination of different events the lord had experienced himself. Hence I deduce that this memory was implanted through suggestions by the servant standing on the left side of the picture. The staff had never searched for the painter, hence one of the domestics had asked his master: (chapter 103)

On the other hand, he only narrated the main aspects, and let the lord fill the blanks. That’s how the lord created a false memory which feels so vivid that it seems real. But I have another proof for this theory. In the previous episode, the lord had tried to implant a false memory into the painter: (chapter 104) My avid readers can certainly recall the rule I had detected: each chapter will be reflected in the next!

But since Yoon Seungho was implanted a false memory, this signifies that it is the same for Baek Na-Kyum too! 😲 One detail caught my attention, the noona’s comment. She had detected that the painter used to feel anxious around Jung In-Hun. (chapter 105) How is it possible? Especially, when the painter said this: (chapter 94) Furthermore, the painter is associating the learned sir to the moon and as such the night. (chapter 94) Thus I am now suspecting that this image is a false memory. But I have another reason to think that the painter’s idolization was more the result of “brainwashing” and as such “false memories”.

The same noona had observed that she had not seen her donsaeng weep like that, since he was 5 years old! (chapter 105) How can she date this incident so precisely? The moment I read her testimony, I discovered that in episode 94 the author had never shown us the painter crying! (chapter 94) (chapter 94) (chapter 94) It was, as if the noonas had never been informed about the painter’s suffering and tears. This shows that Heena has been hiding many things from her colleagues. But there is more to it! The manhwaphiles saw the artist’s tears in his childhood. (chapter 68) But here he was much older!! Under this new perspective, I realized that the following image could have been a false memory: (chapter 68) Heena was misremembering that night, and she was misattributing the painter’s tears. In other words, she was confusing two incidents.

Misattribution: Have you ever mixed up the details of one story with the details of another? For example, while telling a friend about your last vacation you might mistakenly relate an incident that happened on a vacation you took several years ago.” Quoted from https://www.verywellmind.com/how-do-false-memories-form-2795349

And now, take a closer look to the painter’s tears in episode 105: (chapter 105) It is the same facial expression, though the redness around the eyes is more pronounced. This observation confirms that the noona’s memories in the kisaeng (chapter 68) were not reflecting reality. She idolized the scholar’s attitude, while she was portraying herself as the real victim. Thus I started wondering why the painter must have felt anxious around the learned sir. (chapter 105) One might question the veracity of the kisaeng’s testimony, but so far, I judge her as “innocent”, though she definitely helps Heena to fool the couple. In her mind, it is for her brother’s best interests. But let’s not forget that the teenager Yoon Seungho was exposed to sex in a brutal way (chapter 86), so the painter must have made a similar experience. In my analysis “Baek Na-Kyum’s foot“, I had already doubted the “warmth and happiness” of the scene. For me, the zoom on the painter’s foot was the clue for the painter’s suffering. And this interpretation was confirmed in episode 105. (chapter 105) He had run after his lover in socks. While in “Baek Na-Kyum’s foot”, I thought that this memory was true, I come now to a different signification. It was a false memory in order to hide a crime related to Heena. I would like to outline that in the kisaeng’s comment, we have the notion of “shame” and as such “guilt”. First, I thought of rape, but then it could be much simpler. The painter could have witnessed his noona having sex with the learned sir. But because he was too young, he misjudged the situation… as a virgin, she had to bleed. Because he saw blood, he imagined that the learned sir had hurt Heena. This would explain why the artist was afterwards anxious around the teacher. One might think that this is not terrible. But let’s not forget that as a kisaeng, she can not have sex like that. (chapter 105)

“After 1650 some kisaeng were assigned to a specific government office; these were called gwan-gi, and though officeholders were strictly forbidden from having sex with them, in practice they were usually expected and often forced to provide sex to these bureaucrats” Quoted from https://maggiemcneill.com/2013/09/12/the-kisaeng/

Besides, I doubt that the learned sir paid her for her services, hence according to regulations, the couple had committed a wrongdoing. Under this new perspective, it becomes comprehensible why Byeonduck let Heena witness their love session. (chapter 96) A similar situation had happened in the past.But because of her brother’s reaction, his huge tears, she got scared. (chapter 68) Hence my theory is that this image comes from that day, but she repressed it. Due to her guilty conscience and fears, she developed genophobia. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why later Heena caused trouble to Yoon Seungho in the kisaeng house. Her loss of virginity could have been detected. Finally, it explains why the kisaeng spoke about “fleeting and trivial emotions” (chapter 68) Through suggestions, she had been able to convince her brother that the learned sir was a nice person. This explicates why the caresses and hugs were used to silence the artist. By repeating to her brother, he liked Jung In-Hun, he came to develop such feelings. The kisaeng’s statement implies that the admiration for the teacher was not constant. (chapter 105) Her words represent a contradiction to Heena’s statement. (chapter 46) A change of heart versus “eternity”. This shows that the painter’s decision to go to the learned sir’s house was never his choice. He had simply followed Heena’s suggestion. She was definitely distorting his past. Furthermore I detected a strong connection between love and memory. (chapter 94) If it is a loved one, then it can only be a good memory. Therefore it is not surprising that by saying constantly saying that the painter likes the scholar, he is repressing the bad memories with the scholar (the beating in episode 34, the betrayal in chapter 29, his words in the library and his reproach about his job). So far, he only mentioned one negative incident.

But why did Byeonduck use false memories in her story? It is to make Yoon Seungho remember his true memories, which were repressed. However, in psychology, repressed memories are controversial. This explains why the author from „Memory illusions“, Julia Shaw, rejects this idea.

Research showed that the created memories often had the same theme as whatever the clinician was suggesting. So if the clinician suggested sexual abuse, the client would have memories of sexual abuse. If the clinician suggested alien abduction, the client would remember an alien abduction. And if the clinician suggested satanic ritual abuse, then the client would remember satanic ritual abuse. So this was a huge problem. This has led many psychologists and researchers to adamantly oppose any type of therapy that seeks to recover repressed memories, and they also would testify against any recovered memory in court.” Quoted from https://therapyinanutshell.com/repressed-memories-dissociative-amnesia-ptsd-and-the-memory-wars/

Through Baek Na-Kyum’s suffering, the lord is slowly reminded of his own tragedy. This means, his sexual abuse will come to the surface. At the same time, I believe that the painter is the witness of Yoon Seungho’s past suffering, but he has not discovered Yoon Seungho’s connection to the gibang. For me, the painter Baek Na-Kyum embodies true memories, especially since he is no longer under the influence of Heena.

3. The painter’s ignorance

The irony is that though the painter was kept in the dark about the lord’s intentions, he was capable to detect the verity!! How so? He was using his heart and his mind’s eye. First, though the lord’s sudden embrace had caught him by surprise, he had been able to interpret the true meaning: a goodbye (chapter 105) In the original version, this is what the artist thought:

“Earlier..why did it feel like the LAST…”

The last embrace! He had sensed the lord’s despair and heartache. They would no longer see each other. How do I know that the artist was caught by surprise? It is because he never reciprocated the hug. We have to envision a new version of this scene: (chapter 76) So while the painter was following his lover, the latter turned around and hugged him. Afterwards, he asked him to go to his noonas, for he needed to talk to Heena. Moreover, contrary to Yoon Seungho, Baek Na-Kyum paid attention to time. He was not lost in thoughts or had lost the sense of time (chapter 105) Despite being busy and talking to the kisaengs, the artist couldn’t forget his lover. All his attention was still focused on his lover. That’s the reason why he could catch the lord’s departure right on time. This means that Heena’s words didn’t become a reality. He could grasp the situation correctly, though he has no idea about the lord’s intentions. This has nothing to do with chance! It is thanks to the artist’s intelligence and sensibility.

But while he rushed to the lord’s side, he tripped and fell on his hand. (chapter 105) But the latter acted, as if his hand was not wounded. (chapter 105) He ignored his physical pain and heartache. (chapter 105) This is important, because the stumbling symbolizes the intervention of the gods… We have the perfect example at the end of season 3. The lord fell on his knees in front of the scholar’s house, hence there is a hand print on the snow. (chapter 100) That’s how he refused to view Lee Jihwa as the murderer of his lover, Baek Na-Kyum”. YES, the falling is the real manifestation of CHANCE! How so? I would like the manhwaphiles to keep in mind that chance is the antonym of trick and scheme! The latter are connected to plan and organization. Thus I come to the conclusion that the noble will decide to go to the doctor’s office in order to treat his lover’s hand. (chapter 105) Let’s not forget that Yoon Seungho treasures the artist’s hands so much. Besides, they are wearing the same scarfs than in episode 74. But this is something that the schemers are not expecting. After the start of season 4, I got aware that Yoon Seungho never saw the doctor clearly. When the main lead was brought there, (chapter 57) he was feverish so that he couldn’t pay attention to the physician. Besides, the man never remained by his side. Finally, in episode 74, the man never left the office!! (chapter 74) I conclude that Yoon Seungho never saw the physician for commoners! Besides, I doubt that he remembers him from his childhood. But this is not the same, when Baek Na-Kyum was ill. He met the other doctor twice. (chapter 33) (chapter 103) On the other hand, the artist assumes that the man in the office is Yoon Seungho’s doctor!! He heard his confession: (chapter 57) There exist two physicians in the city at least. That’s how a part of the truth will come to the surface! And who had fetched the doctor? (chapter 103) The staff… I would like to outline that in this panel, Kim was no longer seen next to the couple. (chapter 105), though he was still present here. (chapter 105) So where did he vanish? Probably to the mansion, for he had to warn the domestics that the artist would be returning! But if he left the couple behind, this means that he can’t witness what Yoon Seungho and Baek Na-Kyum will do next. And if they don’t go to the doctor, there is no ambiguity that the main lead will send for the doctor again. But according to me, the man disappeared. (chapter 103) To conclude, I am expecting that Yoon Seungho will make a huge discovery in the next episode… just like the painter did in the gibang.

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: 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

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.

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: Summary of a love story 💖😍🌹

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.

Though the talk of marriage started in season 2, the author revealed that Yoon Seungho was not thinking about marriage in season 3 yet. It was too early, as Baek Na-Kyum was still viewed as a boy. Moreover, according to social norms, it was impossible, for his lover is a man. Then in front of Yoon Chang-Hyeon, he made fun of his father. (chapter 87) That’s the reason why I consider the love session in chapter 88 more like a relationship between a sponsor and an artist.

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: The riddle of the enigmatic covers🔍🕵️‍♂️ (second version)

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 purpose of this essay is not just to interpret the illustrations for each season, but also to anticipate the future illustration of season 4. However, before revealing my new knowledge, it is important to explain how I came to develop these significations. This means that I will present new pieces of the puzzle “Painter Of The Night”. Everything started with this panel. (chapter 9)

1. The slap and hands

The noble with the mole had a red cheek and a bruised lip indicating that he had been slapped. Yet contrary to the painter, he had wounded on his right side. (chapter 1) This means that no one had witnessed the wrongdoing committed on the anonymous lord. However, it is important, because it exposes how a person committing a wrongdoing could escape scolding and punishment, even from the readers. There was no witness! Only an attentive reader could detect this. Hence you have the explanation why Yoon Seungho suffered for so long. There was either no witness or the persons chose to close an eye and remained silent. Since it was the negative reflection from Baek Na-Kyum’s slap and the main lead had used his right hand (chapter 11), I deduced that the culprit was left-handed. That’s how I could identify the culprit, lord Min. The lord was in reality left-handed. We could observe this in chapter 8 , episode 19 , chapter 33 and episode 43, but also in episode 76 , in chapter 96 , in episode 100 and finally in chapter 102 ! Yet, in other occasions like in episode 33 or 43, or 52 , he used his right hand! Thus one might argue that Min was simply ambidextrous. However, I can prove 100% that Black Heart is left-handed!😮 The evidence is the usage of the bow. (chapter 22) This is how a right-handed man shoots an arrow. On the other hand, we never saw Min using the bow. The bird was already wounded by the arrows, when the scene of the second hunt took place. (chapter 41) However, the manhwaphiles can discover the verity thanks to one detail: the bag of arrows. (chapter 22) As you can see, the bag is carried on the right side, but the arrows are almost touching the left shoulder. They need to be on the other side, since the scholar needs his right hand to grab the item. And now compare the position of Min’s bag. It is inclined in the opposite direction, hence the arrows are visible on his right side! (chapter 41) Thus the noble is carrying the bag (chapter 41) differently from the painter too. (chapter 22) Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why Byeonduck never showed the Joker’s hunting skills. People would have noticed that he is left-handed immediately. She made sure to hide this important fact, thus within the same chapter Min was often portraying as using both hands. In episode 43, he employed his left hand to pour the alcohol in the glass, but then he switched the hand(chapter 43), when he gave the drink to Lee Jihwa.

This raised the following question. Why is he ambidextrous, though he prefers his left hand? It is because he has been conditioned to use his right hand. In Latin, sinister means left. This explicates why left is associated to sinister, dark and bad omen. Thus there exists this superstition that being left-handed is evil or a bad sign!! Till the end of the 20th Century, people in Europe were encouraged to write with their right hand. And now, if you compare all the scenes, where he employed his left-hand, you will detect that he was acting under the influence of his subconscious. In chapter 8, he was lusting after the painter; explicating why he got mad at his friend. Because of his nagging, Min could no longer ask his host to let the painter join the sex party. Therefore it is no coincidence that he slapped his friend with his left hand. Finally, we never saw his departure from the bedchamber! (chapter 9) Here, he was still present, but even before the end of the sex session, he had already vanished. (chapter 9) Finally, when the noble with the mole visited Lee Jihwa, the latter claimed that he had spent a long time at Yoon Seungho’s. (chapter 9), and his friend never denied it. As you can see, the characters made sure to confuse the readers with the change of the chronology. As you can see, it took me a long time before noticing the bruised face (only during season 3), then to bring up the conclusive evidence that Min was the culprit of the slap. Then in the shaman’s house, he took the dildo with his left hand, because he was angry and frustrated. (chapter 100) With the same hand, he pushed Jihwa (chapter 100) too. This shows that he could barely control himself here. And once he faced the main lead’s sword, he got so scared that he showed Jung In-Hun’s glasses with his left hand again. (chapter 102) Due to stress and his strong emotions, he exposed his true self, but since the readers were more focused on the actions and Min’s punishment, they never paid attention to his hand. This contrasts so much to the way the author portrayed Yoon Seungho. She often zoomed on his hands. (chapter 92) The irony is that in this scene, the main lead employed his left hand too, the positive reflection from the night in the pavilion (chapter 43). While here it was to bring him back to reality, in the pavilion, the Joker had the opposite intention: to lure Lee Jihwa to believe in illusions. (chapter 43).

Why did she confuse the readers then? It was to hide an important information, the culprit is left-handed!! And now it is necessary to examine the lord’s nightmare.

2. The hand in the nightmare

If you read my previous analyses about the visions, you are aware of my following observation. The visions represent not only memories, but also predictions. (chapter 74) They announce the future events, though the information is not given properly. On the other hand, since they are memories either, this signifies that they contain insight about the lord’s tragedy. Thus I noticed that the anonymous perpetrator used his left hand to grab his hanbok!! I deduced that the perpetrator in the past is also left-handed!! Secondly, since this vision can also be seen as the announcement of the painter’s second kidnapping, this is no coincidence that Byeonduck created such panels during the painter’s last torment. (chapter 99) However, in the shaman’s temple, Black Heart grabbed Baek Na-Kyum with his right hand. He was trying to manipulate the artist, he was acting. He was not showing his true self. Yet, the vision was revealing the truth: the future mastermind of the last scheme was in reality left-handed!! It didn’t matter, because at the end, the main lead was able to discern the truth. He sentenced Black Heart, for he believed that he had killed his loved one! That’s how I realized why the author would focus so much on the hands and on the distinction between unconscious and conscious! The hand in Painter Of The Night represents the crucial clue to identify the culprits!!

3. The illustrations and the mystery

Because of these new discoveries, I realized the signification of the covers. In season 1, we had the hands in the illustration. The hands were revealing the crime committed against the main lead. The latter was totally passive in this picture. The hands are touching and unclothing the immobile man. It also shows that Yoon Seungho was at the center of the conspiracy, in the past and in the present! The painting in the background indicates the presence of a hidden painter. Thus Baek Na-Kyum was not drawn in the cover. The painter of the night was in truth someone else, the painter from the past! Nevertheless, the main lead was looking at the readers, indirectly at Baek Na-Kyum, the young painter of the night. This describes the arrival of Baek Na-Kyum in his life. Striking is that the painting in the background was destroyed… indicating that the portrayed relationship was no longer existent. This represents another clue that the lord’s suffering is linked to a previous relationship. Then in season 2, the author revealed Baek Na-Kyum as the painter, who had now become the target of the plot. Yet behind him we see Yoon Seungho’s foot. The latter symbolizes the main lead feared to get close to him, but he wouldn’t leave his side. Moreover, this corresponds to the lord’s impulsive decisions, he let his foot guide him. Thus during the first night of the failed gangrape, he walked towards the study and stopped unconsciously, when he was next to the room. (chapter 53) Due to his strong denial, he was strolling not realizing that his feet were under the influence of his subconscious. And it was the same, when he opened the door with his foot at the Lees’ (chapter 67) Nonetheless, I believe that the author had another reason to draw the foot in the cover. The foot prints are the evidence of the crime, and as such the deceptions and the culprits. (chapter 59) (chapter 60) (chapter 61) The shoes were the clues how to recognize the perpetrators and accomplices. That’s why I compared these feet (chapter 59) with those . (chapter 66) My avid readers are already aware of my theory. For me, we have two kidnappers, and one tried to kill the artist! To conclude, Byeonduck left the clues how to unveil the mystery from the past and the present in the illustrations of each season. The paper in the second cover is a reference to the forged letter (chapter 56), but also to the theft of the painting (chapter 56) and the painter’s break! At the end of season 2, he was no longer painting and in the beginning, he had also stopped due to his heartbreak. Simultaneously, we have the presence of water which serves as a connection to season 1 with the ruined painting and to season 3 with the well and drowning. The dark shades were an allusion to the lord’s darkness and suffering. The latter would come to the surface. However, since the cover only showed the lord’s foot, it exposes that the lord would not divulge his traumatic past. (chapter 78) In season 3, this time the main leads were facing each other, they were recognizing each other: their true self! But this stands in opposition to the deceased people without identity! (chapter 94) We never saw the face of the corpses, as they were either covered (chapter 97) or the manhwaphiles could only view the hand, , the back (chapter 97) or the clothes and shoes (chapter 100)! And since Min had disguised himself as Lee Jihwa, it was clear that the deceased shouldn’t be identified by their clothes, but by their faces. As you can see, season 3 was about the face and identity! This indicates that in the past, someone had been not identified correctly!! Why? It is because the main lead has long repressed this memory. He had forgotten his face out of fear and hatred. The only thing the victim remembers is the BEARD, and old bearded men! (chapter 44) And the nightmare exposed the number of persons involved in his suffering: 4 men!! Here, we have 3 men, and don’t forget the left hand from before. (chapter 74) But if I include the painting, then I come to 6 people: the patriach Yoon Chang-Hyeon and the king. This coincides with the cover from season 1: 3 hands indicates 3 people and we have two lovers in the background. Moreover, we shouldn’t forget the peeper, the person Yoon Seungho was looking at. Hence we have 6 people involved in the conspiracy.

But what caught my attention is that the illustration of season 2 and 3 are showing locations: the painter’s study and the bedchamber. Thus I conclude that Byeonduck was revealing the places where a crime was committed in the past and in the present. In the study, the painter lost his virginity, he was bullied or slapped, while in the past, Lee Jihwa stole Yoon Seungho’s first kiss. So in my opinion, the illustration for season 4 should be the gibang, unless we assume that the cover of season 1 is a reference to the kisaeng house! (chapter 1) Anyway, from my point of view, the cover of season 4 should indicate a location which is connected to the town. Why? It is because now I am suspecting commoners to be involved in the lord’s suffering. I have already expressed my theories about Kim, the guard blacks, Heena and the physician. But there are more suspects! Moreover, observe that the kisaeng house is not only visited by aristocrats, but also by commoners. (chapter 99) That’s the reason why I am anticipating a cover with the gibang. It would be the perfect place to find closure for the couple. It is a place where both suffered. Moreover, I think, belongings should serve as an evidence for the identification of the schemers and accomplices. Remember that we had the glasses as the evidence of a murder in season 3, yet I am sensing that the possession should serve to identify the perpetrators from the past and the present. Since the clothes were used to confuse people in season 3, I am assuming that in season 4, they should help to recognize people, but at the same time, it is totally possible that our main leads decide to employ the same method to fool the schemers and accomplices. And now, we have the cover for season 4. Both protagonists are not only facing each other, but also touching each other. They are no longer hiding their emotions and thoughts. This image represents the opposite to the other seasons. At the same time, the author is again referring to the bedchamber indicating that this place is strongly connected to the protagonists’ suffering. On the other side, since the painter is wearing a silk white shirt, it implies that he is not a commoner. This panel indicates that the main lead was able to the true owner of the study and even bed. However, due to the tears, the beholder can sense that this season will be painful as well. Striking is that in the cover, they were either alone, or they were just looking at each other, hence they didn’t pay attention to their surroundings. Consequently, they couldn’t sense the presence of a plot and the schemers. This indicates that the couple is still not prepared to face new schemes. To sum up, the author selected such covers because she had planned to leave clues there about the mystery! But wait… I had outlined that the person who grabbed the young master Seungho was left-handed, and he played a huge role in the main lead’s downfall and suffering! But who is left-handed in this story?

4. The mysterious left-handed

Naturally, I investigated the matter right away. My first suspect was Kim, but he seems to be right-handed! (chapter 12) (chapter 56). But then I noticed that he carried his master on the left side. (chapter 57) Nevertheless, the person threatening the painter was right-handed. (chapter 66) and since it is for me the butler, he was not the person from the nightmare. That’s the reason why I am excluding him from the suspect list. For me, if he was involved in the past, it is because he lit the candles (chapter 74). Furthermore, don’t forget that in his nightmare, the author exposed the presence of plates with 3 candles (chapter 74) which were also used in the shaman’s house. Finally, in this picture, we have a right-handed person. (chapter 74) So Kim could have been the one silencing him with his hand.

Then I realized that Yoon Chang-Hyeon had also switched his hand. In season 3, he slapped his son with his left hand. (chapter 86) Hence his right cheek was red and he had a wounded lip. (chapter 86) On the other hand, at the doctor’s office, he employed his right-hand to keep his son by his side. (chapter 57). Why is there this change? The turning point was the prank in the bedchamber. (chapter 83) During that scene, the father slapped his son with both hands. First with the right (chapter 83), then with the left! Striking is that the author never showed, when the patriarch employed his left hand. The readers could only hear the sound, and see the result of the beating. Both cheeks were wounded. From my point of view, he was conditioned exactly like Min! He was not allowed to use his left hand, but the angrier he got, the less he could hide his true self: he was left-handed and he was a stupid and brutal father!! (chapter 74) However, note that this switch happened after the sexual abuse had started!! That’s the reason why I conclude that he is not the man from the nightmare. For me, the father is symbolized by the painting, just like the pedophile! So where is the left-handed person? So far, the fake servant smoked with his right hand. (chapter 37) On the other hand, I am doubting that Byeonduck will introduce many new characters in season 4. That’s the reason why I believe that the man with the pipe is the real schemer, as the pipe was in the annex. Since Min grabbed Baek Na-Kyum in the shaman’s house, I am more inclined to think that the perpetrator grabbing the young master Seungho by the collar was just an accomplice and not the mastermind. In other words, he was the helping hand.

And there are two persons left that fit the profile of a left-handed old bearded man. The physician!! 😮Notice that he placed his box on the left side and this twice!! (chapter 57) (Chapter 74) I don’t believe in hazard. Besides, the lord had his nightmare during the same chapter. This means that he could have leaked this information about Yoon Seungho to an outsider, like he did with the painter. As the manhwalovers can grasp, the physician is more suspicious than before.

As for the second person, it is none other than the calligrapher!! (chapter 92) Besides, observe that the angry man put the brush on the left side. (chapter 92) The man is left-handed! And what did Yoon Seungho do? (chapter 92) He grabbed him by the collar! Exactly like in the dream!! (chapter 74) Thus I had this sudden idea: the calligrapher could have been Yoon Seungho’s teacher!! The latter became jealous of the young master due to his talent and notoriety. Another possibility is that he was commissioned by the elder master Yoon to write a talisman, a spring poetry, as we have these writings on the door (chapter 44) or patio of his mansion, similar to Heena’s. And since the young main lead suffered so much, it is normal that he doesn’t have such believes. IT is also possible that the young master Seungho played a prank which made the man angry and humiliated. As you can see, I come to the conclusion that jealousy and resent were the reasons why he got involved in the first place. Moreover, we shouldn’t forget that the calligrapher is linked to the kisaengs! He even recognized Baek Na-Kyum, as he called him a peasant. (chapter 92) Yet, he was either perceived as servant, a noblewoman or as a sir so far! He was never recognized as a peasant. Since he could identify the artist, it is also possible that he was also able to identify Yoon Seungho. But he thought that he was not well educated after living as a male kisaeng for so long. From my point of view, the man could have decided to get revenge on Yoon Seungho and participated in his abduction and gangrape!! Thus his karma was to lose his home! (chapter 91) The fact that Yoon Seungho grabbed him the same way than in the nightmare is not random. It was, as if he was getting justice. Honestly, I am more and more suspecting that in the past, Yoon Seungho got raped by commoners! Naturally, I have not changed my mind that the king was behind this plot: to get revenge on the Yoons! Who benefitted the most from the crime? Definitely the king, as he was able to ruin their influence.

Finally, I would like to remind the readers that according to me, the tailor is involved in the lord’s past suffering. However, according to me, there exist two tailors. While the other called the main lead “lord Yoon Seungho” (chapter 39), the other only recognizes him as master Yoon. (chapter 64) This means that the latter knows about the existence of elder master Yoon. Like mentioned above, the calligrapher, the physician, the tailor, the fake servant and the “shaman” from chapter 29 have all one thing in common: the beard!!

5. The other accomplices: the hanbok and the beards

Byeonduck left pieces of the puzzle in the covers in order to unveil the truth about the past and the present. Hence the moment the illustration is released, try to examine it attentively. It definitely gives clues about the evolution of the story, and the evidences concerning the perpetrators and helping hands. My recent discoveries led me to develop the following theory: the involvement of merchants. This man (chapter 83) disguised himself and hide his true identity behind “lord Song”. But is he the king or someone else? He was definitely a pedophile, but since we can’t see his face, it is not certain that it was the king. (chapter 83) Striking is that he is not “smoking here”, yet I had outlined that one abuser was a heavy smoker due to Yoon Seungho’s behavior. (chapter 83) On the other hand, I discovered that the man with the green hanbok was smoking! And why doesn’t the patriarch suspect the king behind the plot? It is because he was never officially banished or sent to exile. Thus he explains his desertion from the mansion as an absence. (chapter 86) Let’s not forget that in season 3, clothes were used to deceive Yoon Seungho, and the authorities played along. Besides, as the painter had become the love interest of Yoon Seungho and Black Heart, it is very likely that in the past, the victim was exposed to two different abusers, but they all hid behind the name: lord Song. Note that during this feast, one man had a moustache beard which is in Painter Of The Night the sign that he is no yanbang, not even chungin, the upper-middle class. He could be a rich merchant. Just because they are all wearing hanboks (chapter 83) (chapter 87), this doesn’t mean that these men belong to the aristocracy. Furthermore, Kim never said “nobles”, he just said “visitors”!! Finally, I would like to point out that since Yoon Seungho lived secluded for 10 years, I doubt that he had the means and the knowledge to be involved in the trade: (chapter 22) This theory of the participation of a merchant got even reinforced, when I made the following discovery. The wooden boxes in season 1 were present at the tailor‘s shop!! (chapter 39) Thus I am deducing that the barn in season 2 (chapter 51) could have belonged to the tailor or the owner of this shop. And note the couple was in the same position than with the kisaeng with No-Name in episode 51! (chapter 51) This was the negative reflection from episode 39: no penetration versus penetration, no interruption versus interruption, no rumor versus rumor etc. And this contrast clearly displays that the tailor shop is involved in Yoon Seungho’s suffering. And the best evidence for this is the nightmare. The main lead’s clothes had a design. (chapter 74) and the readers never saw the protagonist wearing it so far!! So where is this special hanbok? The latter is the evidence of the tailor’s involvement, as he had to create it. To conclude, there is a strong connection between the gibang, the tailor and the trade. And now, you comprehend why I am more than ever suspecting commoners’ complicity in the main lead’s suffering.

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: Heena’s secrets 🔐

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.

Recently, Lezhin released a message on Instagram announcing the return of manhwas in hiatus for November. And unfortunately, Painter Of Night was not part of them. 😭 Later, the author announced that due to a surgery, the release of season 4 has been delayed. She apologized, for she couldn’t keep her promise. This means, either it will start at the end of December or in January. Nevertheless, this doesn’t change my resolution to keep analyzing this story, for Yoon Seungho’s suffering and the painter’s past have not been entirely unveiled. Like a detective, I am trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. In this essay, I would like to elaborate my new discoveries concerning Heena which led me to develop new theories.

1. Heena: a mother or a sister?

During season 2, I had trouble to figure out her true identity. Was she the head-kisaeng who had adopted Baek Na-Kyum? (chapter1) Or was she simply the noona? (chapter 70) At some point, I came to realize that Heena had acted as the surrogate mother, but she had never clearly stated that she was the painter’s mother. In other words, his adoption was never official, which explicates why the main lead only considered her as his older sister. This is important, because her ambiguous status can not only generate problems, but also expose her betrayal towards Baek Na-Kyum. Note that in chapter 97, the noona treated Baek Na-Kyum as her “child” who wouldn’t listen to her (Chapter 97), while later she implied that they were both equal, for she employed the personal pronoun “us”. (chapter 97) On the other hand, she used her seniority as status, when she called him a fool (Chapter 97). He lacked experiences, hence he was too naïve, and as such he would trust the protagonist too easily. As you can see, Heena herself had an ambiguous relationship with her brother. Nonetheless, thanks to chapter 93, I got finally a definitive answer about Heena’s true identity. She is indeed the head-kisaeng in the gibang. I realized that the protagonists were invited to stay in Heena’s personal room. (Chapter 93) That’s the reason why the seat of the host was empty and why Yoon Seungho didn’t go there. He would have violated social norms, if he had taken her seat.. Moreover, by doing so, he would have revealed that he knew where the woman was. This could have raised questions.

2. Heena’s study

But how did I come up to this revelation? What caught my attention is the type of the door from that room (rectangles). Its pattern diverges from the ones in the hallway. (Chapter 93) This means that the figures were not sitting in the room shown in the last panel. On the other hand, their voices in the hallway exposed their location. The noonas and Heena were not far away from that door hidden by the veil. That’s how I got aware where Heena’s room was situated. In the last picture, the readers are turning their back from Heena’s study, which is right after the corner. Thus I could recognize the design of the building: ][ In the center, there is this huge hallway with the purple veils, but at its end, on each both sides, there exists a corridor perpendicular to the one with the purple curtains. What the beholder imagined as a door at the end of the hallway, (Chapter 68) was in truth a huge window. How do I know this? First, in this scene, the scholar was hiding a huge white vase with red flowers. Hence I deduced that Jung In-Hun couldn’t have walked through that “gate”, it was just a window. Therefore I assumed that he had to walk past the flowers, either turn to the right or the left. Secondly, observe that next to the lantern on the left, there is a small white panel. This means that the view from chapter 93 was more or less taken from the right corner. Moreover, in the next chapter, Heena is not facing this “window”, when she is in the same building. (Chapter 69) This time, the white vase with the flowers is standing in front of a wall. That’s how I deduced that Heena had to turn to the left in order to go to the hallway. (chapter 69) On the other hand, another element caught my notice. In this picture, (chapter 69) the purple curtain is covering the wall and is very close to the lantern, which is not the case in this picture from chapter 93. (chapter 93) And now, if you pay attention to the curtains in the hallway, you can detect a huge difference. (chapter 69) On the right side, there is no white wall between the purple veils, while it is not the case on the left side. And all these observations (the window in the background, the length and position of the purple veils, the white wall) made me realize that Jung In-Hun and Heena were actually walking in the same direction. At first glance, the beholder has the impression that the learned sir was leaving the building, whereas Heena was supposed to return to her private room. However, as you can see, this is just a deception. Furthermore, what caught my attention is the presence of a tiny window . (chapter 93) which is not present in episode 69. (chapter 93) Since I came to the conclusion that Heena’s private room was on the right side after the corner, I deduce that the kisaeng was not on her way to her room. Moreover, since the kisaeng was walking in the same direction than the scholar, I can only conclude that Heena was actually approaching the entrance of the building. I believe that she had turned around, but the author didn’t reveal this. One might argue that it is possible that in chapter 68, the learned sir could have gone with the painter to Heena’s bedroom. However, back then the latter was not the head-kisaeng. We know this due to the presence of a kisaeng standing right behind Yoon Chang-Hyeon during the sexual lesson. (chapter 86) She was the superior. Moreover, we saw the teacher walking through the countryside during the night. (chapter 70) That’s how I realized that Byeonduck had deceived the readers once again. She was playing with reflections. That’s the reason why I deduced that Heena was not talking loudly by accident in front of Black Heart. (chapter 69) It was done on purpose!! She wished that Min would take care of her brother. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the noona has a drop of sweat on her cheek. She is faking ignorance, she is acting, as if she was very protective of her brother. She uses illusion to manipulate people. In reality, she was acting here. One might argue that I am overthinking again. This is not possible, for Heena didn’t know Min at all. Hence she couldn’t manipulate him. The latter had heard of her for the first time in Yoon Seungho’s mansion. (chapter 66) But let me ask you this. How could Heena have never met Min, when she was the head-kisaeng? Secondly, just because the servant had never heard of the noona, this doesn’t mean that it was the case for Black Heart. The domestic assumed Black Heart’s ignorance, just like the readers. Moreover, recently I had detected that Heena had been standing in front of a mansion belonging to a noble. (chapter 46) This was not Yoon Seungho and Lee Jihwa’s mansion, for the gate and walls (chapter 67) diverge. Moreover, Min has been seen in the kisaeng house in so many chapters , (chapter 19) (chapter 59). Here, I would like to point out that in episode 59, Lee Jihwa had visited the kisaeng house on different occasions, for his hair was slowly growing. (chapter 59) Moreover, note that his visits took place during the day and not during the night. Why? It was for privacy and so far, during the day, the manhwaphiles never saw any kisaeng in the gibang. (chapter 1) (chapter 94) Lee Jihwa was not supposed to meet kisaengs. As you can see, Min had strong connections with the gibang, just like Lee Jihwa. Hence Black Heart should have known Heena, for she was the head-kisaeng. But I would like to bring up a more conclusive proof for this interpretation. (chapter 19) This image was showing us that Yoon Seungho was visiting the gibang. However, pay attention to the pattern of the doors in the last picture and the next: (chapter 19) The motive diverges, it looks like the one from the hallway with the purple veils. This means that the party was not taking place in the room shown in the former picture. What caught my notice is the presence of the white vase with the red flowers in front of the building. It was present in each scene taking place in the gibang. (chapter 68) (chapter 69) (chapter 93) For me, the red flowers symbolize Heena noona. This explicates why during the painter’s dream, the flowers were not present. (chapter 87), as Heena was not included in his vision. And this image (chapter 19) made me think of Yoon Chang-Hyeon due to the writing on the wooden planks. (chapter 44) Due to the similarities, I believe that in chapter 19, Byeonduck was actually exposing the ghost head-kisaeng. Exactly like the father, she was hiding. Why? It is because she is involved in Yoon Seungho’s suffering. And now, imagine her reaction, when she hears that Black Heart has organized a feast for the main lead’s honor. The woman could only avoid the main character. And now, you have the explication why Heena as the head-kisaeng was not present during that festivity. It was deliberate. (chapter 19) Striking is that the kisaeng had a similar hair dress than Heena, This is no coincidence. She was acting as the head-kisaeng. The manhwalovers will certainly remember that only two kisaengs had no braided bun or braids: this one and Heena. Look at all the others: (chapter 51) (chapter 93) (chapter 93) (chapter 95) The extravagant hair dress was exposing the kisaeng’s status. And now, you comprehend why the other noona explained the disappearance of Heena during that night. (chapter 93) She was the head-kisaeng’s right-hand. She had to give an explanation why the noona wouldn’t appear in her bedroom.

But let’s return our attention to chapter 19. What did the kisaeng do during that party? She questioned the main character. (chapter 19) But how could she sense that the noble was in a good mood? The latter was silent and not even smiling. (chapter 19) How could she claim this? In reality she was actually spying on him. Heena had no idea why the lord would come to the gibang, especially after suffering there so much. The kisaeng’s task was to dig up information. This visitation must have bothered the head-kisaeng.

3. Heena and Min

According to my theory, Heena was walking in front of the room where Black Heart was on purpose. She wished to push him to remove the painter from Yoon Seungho’s side. Yet one might reject this thought, because it was impossible for her to know about the man’s presence. The entire time she was looking straight (chapter 69), and Min was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. (chapter 69) She was even turning her back to him. But actually, she could have detected his presence, exactly like I had recognized him: through his laugh!! (chapter 69) And this would actually reinforce my interpretation that the noona was familiar with Min, and her encounter with him was not recent. Moreover, I would like to point out another discrepancy. This is what the kisaeng claimed to Yoon Seungho: (chapter 99) He was wearing a veiled hat, yet in chapter 69, this was not the case. (chapter 69) They could have seen his face, and as such recognize him as lord Min!! The kisaengs claimed that they had no idea, for they couldn’t see his face. But like pointed out, Black Heart was not wearing a veil in chapter 69! So they could identify him properly. People could have noticed that he was impersonating Lee Jihwa. That’s the reason why the villain had to change the hat!! Moreover, in this scene, he was not alone, he had been followed by his best friend, the noble with the mole. (chapter 69) That’s the reason why the trick with the first impersonation failed. Under this new approach, it becomes understandable why in season 3, Min was no longer followed by his friend and why he was wearing the hat with the black veil. They needed to ensure that no one would recognize his face. That way, the impersonation would be perfect, and Lee Jihwa could be framed easily. But this means that Black Heart must have got aware that the head-kisaeng had tried to trick him with her words in the hallway. This explains why in season 3, the woman got deceived herself with illusions. (chapter 88) (chapter 97) This was her karma. She had spoken with ill intentions (to achieve her goal by using a pawn), therefore she couldn’t speak in front of blood. This is no coincidence that her hands were covering her mouth, the opposite of her behavior in the hallway. Moreover, she had acted, as if she was caring for her brother, but the reality is that she cared more for the scholar than Baek Na-Kyum. In other words, the noona and Min were both fooling each other, they were constantly acting in front of each other. Hence when the noona saw the Joker in front of the scholar’s house, she feigned ignorance, while it was the opposite. (chapter 99) Under this new light, Min’s words get a new signification: (chapter 99) He was implying that they knew each other for a long time! The irony is that the manhwaphiles had the impression that their relationship was recent, and his cynical tone contributed to it. Secondly, he called her Heena, a sign that they were close to each other. Note that Lee Jihwa never mentioned her name. (chapter 99) His words even insinuate that Black Heart had just given the following order. The red-haired master should just fetch a kisaeng and in my opinion, Heena was waiting for Lee Jihwa’s arrival to leave the gibang. According to his words, he had no idea about the kisaeng’s identity. But is it true? I have my doubts now, and this for two reasons. Why would he ask about her identity, when he already knows that she is a kisaeng? The drop of sweat on his face is an indication that he is lying. But the problem is to determine if the deception is only referring to “I heard not a word” and to all the questions. Let’s not forget that he knew about Min’s initial intention. The moment Lee Jihwa arrived in the gibang, she just followed him. That way, they would avoid to attract attention, and with her new hair dress (chapter 99), she could no longer be recognized as the head-kisaeng. And this leads me to the following observation. When Heena was sent to the storage room, she actually lost her position as head-kisaeng. (chapter 93) In other words, when Yoon Seungho jailed her (chapter 93), the gibang had lost its “leader”. This explains why this noona as her right-hand had to explain the absence of the owner. (chapter 93). This scene (chapter 93) was actually announcing the downfall of Heena. She was about to desert the kisaeng house. She was giving up on her possessions and her position for “freedom”.

4. Heena and Yoon Chang-Hyeon

Because of the empty seat, I couldn’t help myself thinking of the elder master Yoon. (chapter 86) The latter had been eyeing the throne in the family mansion, but he failed to take over the mansion. This was the negative reflection of Heena. Whereas the kisaeng had a powerful position in the gibang, it was the opposite for the patriarch. He was no longer recognized as the head of the Yoons. Yet, both have something in common. Both lost their position for good, for Heena and Yoon Chang-Hyeon couldn’t take or keep the seat. We could say that both got defeated by Yoon Seungho. In chapter 93, the main lead acted as a respectful and calm master, whereas in the bedchamber he showed no respect to his own father. He talked back and even made fun of him. (chapter 87) This picture stands in opposition to this one: (chapter 93) To conclude, the surrogate mother and the patriarch made a similar experience in season 3. Both got deceived by manipulations and in both cases, letters played a huge role.

On the other hand, the noona chose to give up on her seat and position in order to avoid trouble with justice. The elder master Yoon decided to act the opposite. He made accusations against his son (chapter 94), definitely thinking that he was doing the right thing. He thought that he could never get into trouble. But this is just a deception in my opinion. As for the former head-kisaeng, she has to run away, for she did something wrong! In the past and in the present! She definitely plotted, and she is aware that her actions will have terrible repercussions.

5. Heena’s departure

This means that Heena chose to renounce on her position and wealth in order to save her own skin! That’s the reason why she faked her death. (chapter 99) No one would be looking for her. The problem is that the witnesses of her curtains all vanished. Lee Jihwa ran away, Black Heart got killed with his friends, and the only survivor, lord Jang, was confronted with real corpses in the shaman’s house. (chapter 102) That’s why I come to the deduction that her murder will be questioned. Why? There is no blood contrary to the bloodbath in the shaman’s house and there is no corpse!! Since Black Heart used different corpses in order to deceive Heena and the couple, there is no ambiguity that the head-kisaeng’s curtains will be doubted. Striking is that Heena staged her death out of cowardice and selfishness, while Yoon Seungho made the opposite decision. He was resolute to commit suicide in order to follow his lover in his death. During that night, Heena and Yoon Seungho lost their “home”, but at the end, he found his true home: the painters embrace. (chapter 102) He gave up on everything (fortune, house and life), hence he will be rewarded for all his sacrifices. Under this new light, I am more than ever convinced that Heena has not reached the bottom. Her karma is to be punished for her deceptions and acting!

As you can imagine, the moment I questioned the relationship between Heena and Min, everything appeared in a different light. It becomes comprehensible why Min would whisper to the head-kisaeng, why she didn’t push away his hand (chapter 96) (chapter 96), though he is a noble. Besides, I am suspecting her of suffering from genophobia (fear of sex and intimacy) Their behavior exposes closeness and a certain trust. But how is this possible? It is because she knows that Min is a sodomite, and he is not looking for sexual favors. That’s the reason why she trusted Black Heart in my opinion. Moreover, he is smiling like Jung In-Hun. Therefore it is not surprising that she was speaking like the Joker in chapter 97. Here, the man had actually projected his own thoughts onto Yoon Seungho, and due to her own belief, Heena was more than willing to believe Black Heart. . (chapter 97) That’s how I came to realize why in season 2, Jung In-Hun was mentioned in front of Min. (chapter 52) It is because Black Heart knew Heena! I even believe that he had already met the scholar. Note that the man with the black hanbok was repeating the rumors about the learned sir. And the other questioned the main lead’s action exposing that he had never heard about this grapevine before. Hence I am deducing that the one spreading this rumor could only be MIN!! That’s the reason why he just said this (chapter 52) That means that the noble knew the teacher in the end. Therefore it is no coincidence that Min was aware where the learned sir lived!! (chapter 83) And now, if you connect the two scenes from chapter 97 and chapter 52 , you can only come to the conclusion that Min was the learned sir’s previous sponsor, but at the end he changed his mind (chapter 52). Why? It is because there was an incident in the gibang!! (chapter 01) And who had covered up the incident? Heena, for she was the head-kisaeng! She had lied to her brother by blaming the biggest victim, Yoon Seungho, who was the man with the braid! This image is a real memory of Baek Na-Kyum from that night, yet from far away, the painter couldn’t see the face of the sodomite! This is another secret Heena has been hiding from her brother!

That’s how I realized that season 3 focused on the “face”, the symbol for identity. The readers could never see the face of all the corpses (chapter 94) (chapter 97) (chapter 97) (chapter 101), and even Kim hid his face under a hanbok. (chapter 92) That’s the reason why I believe that in season 4, the visage will play a major role! The couple will recognize people due to the face!! In my eyes, the former head-kisaeng knows the identities of all the persons involved in Yoon Seungho’s suffering.

Hence I am encouraging you to read Painter Of The Night once again under the following theory: Heena and Min knew each other, and Jung In-Hun had already been in contact with Min…. This is no coincidence that Black Heart had to die at the end. Jung In-Hun was killed, after Min had betrayed and abandoned the scholar. If he had kept his words… the murder of Jung In-Hun wouldn’t have taken place. But let’s not forget that according to me, this scene in the gibang (chapter 1) corresponds to Yoon Seungho’s first liberation. This means that the sponsorship was doomed to fail, because the gods would no longer tolerate the abuse. Min’s promise was short-lived, because his dream couldn’t come true. He had no longer any use of the scholar. This truly exposes that Heena told many stories to her brother in the past and in the present, yet only now, (chapter 97) her brother is detecting her deception.

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: Painful departures 👋🩸⚰️

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.

Announcement: The essay “Powerful fellatios” was updated.

Before elaborating my new discoveries, I would like to repeat the following principles on which the story was developed:

  1. There is always a reflection within the same chapter.
  2. The next episode is mirroring the previous one, naturally with slight changes.
  3. Each season is reflected in the previous and the future one.
  4. The author is working on positive and negative reflections.
  5. Thus the story is going in circle.
  6. Thus the lord’s destiny is reflected in the painter’s.

Like explained before, the reason for this huge amount of reflections is that her story is constructed like a kaleidoscope. Therefore it is not surprising that I keep contrasting many images and chapters with each other. That way, we can get new insight about the past. At the same time, the author can not expose the whole truth for two reasons. We don’t have a narrator, and since it is a manhwa, the narration is really limited. Moreover, Yoon Seungho might confess to Baek Na-Kyum about his traumatic past, yet his testimony will never mirror the entire verity. Why? It is because as a victim, he didn’t know everything. He had no idea what people would think and do behind his back. Since he had no idea about a conspiracy in season 1, 2 and 3, I conclude that it was the same in the past!! Hence it is up to the readers to fill the blanks and as such to solve the puzzle.

Striking is that after the end of season 2, I had examined the topic “farewells” [For more read essay 195 “Farewell” ] which sounds quite similar to the title of this analysis. One might fear that I could repeat myself. However, this is just a deception, for I am focusing now on season 3. With the new panels, I could get new clues about the painter’s departure from the gibang. So far, I had stated this: Heena did it for the painter’s sake. It was to protect him, (chapter 46) This was actually implied by Heena’s words and gestures, yet I had already questioned this, for Heena appeared as dishonest. Now, it is time to expose my new interpretation concerning Baek Na-Kyum’s eviction from home.

1. Exits in episode 94

What caught my attention is that chapter 94’s main topic was departure. How did I come to this perception? First, we have the well which reminded Yoon Seungho of the scholar and his poem. The latter had given the poetry referring to exit to the painter as a farewell gift. Why was the lord thinking of Jung In-Hun in that moment? It is because he had read the letters from Heena and as such her accusation against him. He had killed the learned sir, hence in the lord’s mind, it was only a matter of time until Baek Na-Kyum would bring up the subject and decide to leave him. The letters are not destroyed, for he asked this to the painter: (chapter 94) Yoon Seungho had two reasons to expect such an outcome. First, it was related to Yoon Seungho’s offer to Baek Na-Kyum. (chapter 44) Secondly, Baek Na-Kyum had already showed to the main lead that he could leave him at any moment. (chapter 85) Finally, what mattered to the artist the most was the lord’s love and trust. (chapter 85) He believed in his affection while thinking that Yoon Seungho would keep his promises. But if there was a slight doubt about him, in Yoon Seungho’s mind, the painter would choose his noona over him, like he had experienced it in the study. To sum up, in the gibang, the lord was fearing the artist’s departure. Moreover, when the painter confessed his love to the noble, he was also leaving the scholar’s side. His path was no longer following the teacher’s. Thus when he said this (chapter 94), he was actually biding farewell to Jung In-Hun. He was moving on. Finally, if you include these panels from chapter 94, , the painterofthenight-stans can notice that people are about to leave. In the first image, the young artist is chased away by the comments from the other children. Then the painter is standing in front of his noona Heena, he has just left the side of the sitting nobles. He is definitely crying, he wished to be embraced and taken away by Heena from the room. As for the last picture, we see two “nobles” leaving the painter behind. They are the ones leaving the gibang, for the exit is close. The painter ‘s face had been beaten, hence we could view drops of blood on the ground and the white head-band.

Interesting is that these three departures were all painful. First, Baek Na-Kyum’s heart got broken, for he was excluded by the children forcing him to live in the gibang. After that, he lived in seclusion. The children used their words and gestures to make him leave. Simultaneously, this panel indicates that the painter had left the kisaeng house and strolled through the streets. Then in the second image, the nobles were more aggressive, for they had removed the painter’s pants. As the manhwalovers can detect, the violence was increasing, thus when the painter’s visage was wounded, it represents the high peak of violence against the painter. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible why the author chose not to follow the chronology. In this panel, the painter had still a braid (chapter 94) (chapter 94), but not here. This means that the rejection from the “peasants” happened afterwards. And now, if I include Jung In-Hun’s departure, the latter is supposed to have been killed, it becomes palpable that in Painter Of The Night, departure is strongly associated to blood, desertion, imprisonment and death. But this doesn’t end here.

2. The painter’s departure

I couldn’t help myself connecting this scene (chapter 94) with this physical assault in front of the learned sir’s home: (chapter 99) In these two scenes, the painter got so hurt that he was bleeding. In addition, the painter’s hair was free. In front of Jung In-Hun’s house, the perpetrators had removed his headgear, while in the gibang, the white head-band was on the ground. To conclude, the painter’s short hair was visible. Don’t forget that the short hair was indicating that the artist was an orphan. So by removing the headgear for noblewomen, Min and the black guards made sure to expose that the victim was just a low-born without any family. But let’s return to our comparison. Min was wearing a similar hanbok than the noble in the gibang. Furthermore, the black guard resembles a lot to the aristocrat with the hunting outfit in the kisaeng house house. The painter’s white headband is now serving as a cover for masking the black guards’ identity. As you can see, due to these similarities, I came to the conclusion that this scene (chapter 94) was the reason why Baek Na-Kyum left the gibang. Why do I think so? First, it is related to Heena’s absence.

3. Heena’s role

Where is she? Why didn’t she come and protect her brother? The perfect excuse would be that she was busy with a client. And this leads me to the following observation. Note that in this scene, Heena was standing in front of the door. (chapter 94) She was actually the one hindering the painter to run away. She didn’t act like Jung In-Hun at all (chapter 68). She let her brother hear the laughs from the younger masters. It looks like she is consoling her brother, yet she is not, for she is not embracing him. She is grabbing him by the shirt which reminded me of this gesture: (chapter 97) Hence I deduce that this scene in the gibang (chapter 97) is a reflection of the incident in the painter’s youth. (chapter 94)

Chapter 94 negative reflectionChapter 97 positive reflection
Painter in tears  Painter smiling, even when he gets scared
Heena brings a table with food.Baek Na-Kyum returned to the room in order to fetch the “paper”.
Heena says nothing and feels sorry for the painter –She talks the whole time
She remains next to the door.She approaches her brother in the room.
She grabs him by the shirtShe grabs him by the shirt
BNK wants to be huggedHeena wants to hug her brother, but she is rejected
BAek Na-Kyum believes herBaek Na-Kyum reproaches her to tell stories
Heena doesn’t weepShe is now in tears
Heena definitely portrayed the nobles as ruthless and filthy.Now, she found a nobleman who would help them
Heena stands in front of the entrance.Heena stands in the way to the door.

As you can see, these two scenes share so many parallels that I came to the conclusion that in both cases Heena was stopping her brother from leaving the room. (chapter 94) The table and the kisaeng were in his way. In other words, in this scene, she didn’t let the painter leave the room. However, the huge difference is that contrary to episode 97, she was acting under the influence of her unconscious/subconscious. This means that she was not doing it on purpose contrary to her confrontation with her brother in the annex. Here, she desired that her brother wouldn’t return to Yoon Seungho’s mansion. He should remain by her side and follow her. In chapter 94, she could have acted like the scholar (chapter 68) But she did not. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that she had bad intentions here. However, her passivity caught my attention. She was immobile and silent. (chapter 94) Hence Byeonduck drew her without mouth. Her behavior contrasts so much to this scene: (chapter 65). Thus she gave more the impression of being righteous and truly concerned.

Moreover, another detail caught my attention: (chapter 94) The presence of the moustache beard!! Three of them have one!! (chapter 94) The painterofthenight-lovers will certainly recall Yoon Seungho’s words: (chapter 44) However, there exists a difference between the painter and the lord’s association for beards in my opinion. The latter suffered due to old men wearing a long moustache beard with whiskers. (chapter 82) (chapter 83) (chapter 37)

Noblemen’s grooming styles for facial hair found in thirty portraits handed down from the Joseon Dynasty are as follows. Facial hair is classified into three types: beards, moustaches and whiskers according to its location. Twenty one portraits show that the subjects groomed all three types of facial hair.” Quoted from http://www.rjcc.or.kr/journal/article.php?code=7079

But there exists another style of moustache beard.

The remaining nine scholars also grew and trimmed their moustaches in the 八shape neatly, and had beards in an inverted triangle long enough to reach the lower part of the neck. However they do not have whiskers in their portraits. Quoted from http://www.rjcc.or.kr/journal/article.php?code=7079

Striking is that Kim is also wearing such a moustache beard. (chapter 87) However, so far in the story, this type of moustache beard was only present among commoners and not nobles!! (chapter 39) (chapter 45) (chapter 45) (chapter 64) (chapter 78) Hence I started suspecting if these two persons were truly nobles in the end. (chapter 94) Just because they are wearing clothes destined to aristocrats, this doesn’t mean that they are truly lords. And don’t forget that when the painter was attacked in front of the learned sir’s home, many people were disguised. The kisaeng Heena was dressed like a commoner’s wife (chapter 99), Min was cosplaying Lee Jihwa, the guards were covering their mouths, Baek Na-Kyum had been wearing a expensive scarf and a headgear for noblewomen, (chapter 99) so that he had been mistaken for a young master. (chapter 91). Therefore I came to the conclusion that the painter has repressed the link between the moustache beard and nobles. Since the noona kept saying nobles, what made Baek Na-Kyum shudder in the past were nobles. But the connection between the beard and nobility is existent in the painter’s subconscious. This explicates why Baek Na-Kyum would show such a respect to valet Kim, he would call him sir and listen to him. (chapter 52) However, the more time passed on, the more the butler kept pointing out that he was just a servant, so that this moustache beard is losing its meaning, the symbol for power and nobility. At the same time, the painter met more and more people with beards, like for example the tailor (chapter 74), the physician (chapter 74), Bongyong (chapter 78) and finally Yoon Chang-Hyeon (chapter 87). However, note that when the patriarch left, the main character only paid attention to his gaze and not his beard. (chapter 87) This explicates why Baek Na-Kyum is not mentioning the beard concerning nobility, while Yoon Seungho never made the connection between the old bearded men and Kim, though the latter has now a moustache beard! To conclude, I don’t think that this physical assault (chapter 94) was really done by nobles. Moreover, we shouldn’t forget that the gibang is not only visited by aristocrats, but also by commoners (rich merchants, small shop owners, workers). (chapter 99). That’s the reason why I came to the following theory. These persons wounded the painter on purpose and in my eyes, it was suggested by Heena. (chapter 94) She couldn’t ask nobles to commit such a crime due to her social status, hence she asked the assistance of low-borns. Striking is that the painter was mostly hurt by commoners in the different seasons: The servants (chapter 13), the maid (though not intended) (chapter 36, here the painter is drugged against his will), Deok-Jae , Nameless, (chapter 60), Kim (chapter 66) [As you already know, for me Kim was the one who tried to kill the painter during the abduction], Bongyong (chapter 78), the calligrapher with his insults (chapter 91), the maids with their reproaches (chapter 91) (chapter 98) and the black guards from Min. (chapter 99) The commoners are often the helping hands of the nobles. But as you know, Heena has been denying their existence and involvement. Why? It is because she has been a helping hand herself. Under this new approach, you comprehend why I came to the deduction that Heena had utilized people to make her brother desert the kisaeng house. This is no coincidence that in chapter 97, the painter was accompanied by 2 servants (chapter 97), two commoners who neglected him totally. By the way, the one with the green shirt and white jacket vanished later. He was not seen in the mansion. Anyway, the two domestics wouldn’t even follow the lord’s orders properly, for they never stayed by the painter’s side. And since it is a reflection from chapter 94, I deduce that the two “nobles” acted the opposite. They played their role perfectly to the point that the painter was terribly wounded and he never doubted their identities. They were just nobles! And that’s the point. That way, no person was truly blamed for the incident.

Hence Heena didn’t suggest the painter’s exit right after this incident, she had to wait for his recovery, and naturally she had to blame someone: the nobles!! She played with his prejudices in the end. The first evidence for this theory is that during that fateful night, Baek Na-Kyum didn’t go straight to the teacher’s home, for he first returned to Yoon Seungho’s mansion. This time, she couldn’t convince her brother to follow her suggestion, an indication that the indoctrination was no longer effective. This stands in opposition to chapter 94, where the painter’s self-esteem was ruined. Thus he chose to listen to her advice without resisting. This explicates why during their first farewell, the readers were able to see the painter’s face and the white headband on his head!! (chapter 46) This was the “positive” reflection of this scene: (chapter 94) No matter what… Baek Na-Kyum should leave the kisaeng house. What caught my attention is that she only presented her argument, the moment the painter was about to leave her. Thus he recalled her words when he was on his way to the gibang (chapter 46) and as such to the scholar’s home. (chapter 46) Moreover, I am now doubting that Baek Na-Kyum and Heena were seen in front of the gibang. (chapter 46) Why? It is because of the building and the absence of the cheongsachorong (the blue and red lantern). First, the gibang is surrounded by a wall made of stones! (chapter 19) (chapter 69) (chapter 93) Secondly, there is no window next to the entrance of the building contrary to the image from chapter 46. Consequently, I deduce that Heena had left the gibang with her brother saying that she was meeting a client, and just before entering the mansion, she sent away her brother. This explicates why he had only taken his tools and nothing more. Remember what the noonas said in chapter 93: (chapter 93) She implied that the noona was not present in the kisaeng house, while in reality she was punished, trapped in a storage room. And now, you comprehend why Heena said this to her brother: (chapter 46) He couldn’t bid farewell to his noonas, for he had already left the kisaeng house. But he had no idea that he would be sent away during that day. The other evidence for this theory is that the painter went to his lover’s home before visiting the scholar’s house. (chapter 97-98) Furthermore, the night before, the noona had implied that Heena had left the gibang. Thus I conclude that Baek Na-Kyum was truly abandoned by Heena in the end, but he got deceived by her gentle words and gestures. The physical abuse in the kisaeng house and her kind gestures had played a huge role in this. He could no longer be protected there. She justified this that it was for the painter’s best interests. She knew what the artist truly desired. However, this was not true, as she had manipulated him and she had never asked him. Under this new light, you comprehend how Heena could deceive her colleagues so easily with this statement: (chapter 93) He had suddenly vanished without voicing such a desire before. And note that in chapter 97, she was already acting on Min’s orders, a sign that in the past, it was different. She had done it on her own accord. In the annex, the kisaeng was definitely scared, hence she was trembling. (chapter 97) I have always said that the painter’s departure from the kisaeng house (chapter 1-46) was related to a crime, but the noona was not aware of this, or deep down she knew, but she chose to close an eye to this. Why do I think that this is related to murder? Simply, because in front of the scholar’s house, she faked her death and the painter had been wounded too. (chapter 99) Finally, we have this execution in chapter 1. During that night, Baek Na-Kyum should have died. But let’s return to episode 97. Here, she was resenting her brother. (chapter 97) She was totally unhappy which stands in opposition to chapter 46 in my eyes. Hence she was looking for new tissues at the tailor’s. (chapter 64) This would explain why she never looked for her brother afterwards. This shows that unconsciously, the painter had judged her betrayal and abandonment correctly, but he had been deceived by her argumentation and attitude. In other words, he was in denial.

4. The purpose of these reflections

I believe that these incidents are created to expose the transformation and evolution of characters. Heena felt powerless and scared, when she was young. Due to her anxieties (according to me, genophobia) she made wrong decisions, thus she let the protagonists suffer. She was definitely a victim due to her social status as kisaeng, for it was not her choice to become a kisaeng. Nonetheless, the problem is that in chapter 94, she utilized the painter as her shield. The real victim in this scene is not Heena, but Baek Na-Kyum. She had brought the table and let the painter approach the nobles. Why did they want to confirm, if he was a girl or a boy? (chapter 94) The clothes were indicating that he was a boy!! Moreover, why did she let him approach these men? It was during the night, for he was wearing his night clothes. So he should have slept. In my opinion, she utilized the painter in order to explain why she couldn’t perform her duties as a kisaeng. She was constantly followed by the painter. Simultaneously, she could utilize this incident to portray herself as a victim of violent and filthy nobles. She could lie to her brother, and explain that when he was not with her, she had to bear such an attitude. He would believe her, for he had experienced it once. She was clearly avoiding her fate as a kisaeng. Furthermore, she could explain why she was not working or sharing her bed with the other noonas. (chapter 87) So in this scene, (chapter 68), Baek Na-Kyum had the impression that she was telling the truth. It looked like she was a victim of violence, while in reality, Yoon Seungho was the real victim. He got dragged and tied up! Today, I just discovered another evidence for this interpretation! (chapter 68) The blue skirt is revealing her presence. She is next to the door and observe that there is a table to her right!! Exactly like in chapter 94! But it was much bigger. This means that she left the room. And since the table was not present in this image, (chapter 86), I deduce that Heena explained her desertion by taking away the table so that she had the perfect excuse to leave this room and abandon Yoon Seungho. It was not her business. But if she left the room during that night, she could have followed her brother. But she never did it. She let her brother imagine that she was suffering. (chapter 70) Terrible, right? However, since the painter had been deceived by impressions, he came to believe her version and lies. But there is more to it. Because the artist was so young, he never realized that he could have detected her manipulations!! How? She should have become a wreck… have bruises on her body, but she never had any.

This new interpretation is truly important, because it made me realize why Heena got punished in the storage room. 😮 (chapter 93) Since she excused her vanishing by saying that she had to remove the dishes and as such was busy in the kitchen, it is normal that she was imprisoned next to the kitchen 10 years later!! Here, we can recognize the kitchen by the door made of wooden planks: (chapter 95) But there exist two other evidences why Heena is associated to the kitchen. Remember the painter’s thoughts in the inn: (chapter 75) They let see that he was thinking of Heena, though he spoke of his noonas. However, the presence of religion was introduced with food. (chapter 75) This truly exposes that Heena preferred working in the kitchen. That way, she could avoid sex with the clients. Another interesting aspect is that when she was sitting at the table with nobles, she was not talking to her neighbors. . (chapter 93) She was not even serving the noble next to her. (chapter 93) Once again, she was passive and immobile. Since she was doing nothing, she could hear her brother’s name and turn her head. (chapter 93) Under this new light, it becomes understandable why Baek Na-Kyum didn’t detect her presence in the patio. It was not her usual place. At the same time, the readers can grasp why the artist didn’t mind eating in the kitchen with the maids and felt comfortable around the head-maid. (chapter 46) This was reflecting his past relationship with Heena. And now, you comprehend why Heena never paid attention to the painter’s education. She had not the time and the motivation to do so. She was busy in the kitchen during the evening and night, yet keep in mind that the painter was her excuse to keep her distance from the nobles in the beginning. This explicates why Yoon Seungho crashed the table in the gibang: (chapter 99) This was Heena’s karma. She could no longer use the table as an excuse to betray and abandon a young boy. Moreover, we could see this gesture as a compensation for the past incident. (chapter 68) Finally, the lord could voice his frustration and his resent for the kisaeng who had “deceived” him. Now, I am wondering if during that night, the rice had not been spoiled too. The most important aspect is that she had definitely seen the abduction and sequestration, yet she did nothing. But if the food was spoiled, then I can understand why she acted that way. She didn’t want to be punished. But if this theory is correct, , it depends on if she was involved in this incident or not. Yet I don’t believe that she was responsible here. She preferred Yoon Seungho taking the fall. So she took the table with her colleague and left the room. (chapter 68) How do I come to this idea? It is because there is a progression in the responsibility. But we will see, if the lord’s anger was caused by spoiled rice. One thing is sure: the butler is recreating events from the past. And shortly after the painter’s departure from his noona situated in chapter 46, (chapter 46), we had this incident: . (chapter 47). That’s the reason why I am connecting the kisaeng to the food. And I had already demonstrated that there exists a link between the gibang and the lord’s kitchen.

That’s how I made a new connection between Heena and Nameless. The latter is a butcher, and he was seen in the kitchen. (chapter 60) And now, we know for sure that the chicken blood was used to stage the crime scene in the scholar’s house. (chapter 101) For me, Nameless was behind this prank. It sounded so harmless, but the reality is totally different. Consequently, Heena can become the prime suspect in the scholar’s disappearance. Remember that according to me, Yoon Seung-Won went to the gibang after leaving his brother’s mansion and discovered that he had been deceived. For me, there is no ambiguity that Yoon Seung-Won and lord Song are behind the learned sir’s murder, for both had a huge interest for his vanishing. But in my eyes, Heena is the link between the nobles, lord Song and No-Name, because the kisaeng house is frequented by all kind of people. I have already mentioned that the learned sir must have gone to the kisaeng house after meeting the fake servant. (chapter 38) This encounter took place during the day, however he returned during the night. So he must have spent some time elsewhere. Because of the connection between Heena and the kitchen, I think, she will have to take the fall for No-Name’s crimes. Under this new light, I comprehend why Byeonduck declared that she had no longer planned Mumyeong and Lee Jihwa. Both were already receiving their punishment, when they fled. But since I detected a connection between Heena and No-Name, I am quite sure that she is also responsible for the downfall of No-Name. And don’t forget that during the incident in the bedchamber, we had a party!! (chapter 83) Then I had already demonstrated that the kisaeng had already visited the mansion, for she knew where the painter’s room was. (chapter 65) So she could have worked in the kitchen… helping the other maids. To conclude, the kisaeng had committed the following wrongdoings. She had manipulated her brother with a mixture of belief and prejudices to cover up her own fears and wrongdoings. While in chapter 94, she stopped the painter from leaving the room unconsciously, it was no longer the case with Yoon Seungho, as she was standing in front of the door. (chapter 68) She contributed to his abduction and sequestration. But this doesn’t end here. She was also a witness of his sexual abuse, but she chose to close an eye. Thus she said this to the painter: (chapter 68) For her, sex had become a synonym for torture and death. Her wrong choices reinforced her fears about sex in my eyes. Every time, she decided not to face the truth, she preferred being blind. Thus the goddess chose to punish her by letting her deceived by impressions. (chapter 88) (chapter 66) Here, she couldn’t help her brother, though the “sequestration” was nothing compared to what Yoon Seungho had experienced at such a young age. She had deceived her brother in the past, and now she was put in the same position. She was the fool one. In addition, she was forced to be confronted with reality, because she needed to admit her wrongdoings. Since she was behind this assault (chapter 94), she had to see her brother wounded, the consequences of her lies and manipulations. (chapter 99) Yet, each time she refused to become responsible. She always had a perfect excuse: the nobles were to blame for this, the lord had acted like a spoiled child etc…. In front of the scholar’s house, it was because her brother had not listened to her. Besides, Min was also accountable for this. (chapter 99) She never pointed her finger to the black guards, for she knew that they could reply that she was responsible for her brother’s resistance. She had not been able to convince him to follow Min. She preferred blaming innocent people (Baek Na-Kyum, Yoon Seungho and “Jihwa”) than recognizing her own guilt and her bad choices. Since in the past, she stood in front of her door, her punishment was to remain outside. She could never enter the room (chapter 66). (chapter 96) She even got sequestered herself. (chapter 93), therefore it is not surprising that at the end, she was determined to leave the kisaeng house. But this doesn’t end here. The painter had been denied the right to bid farewell to his noonas a second time because of Heena (again), (chapter 99), this means that her punishment will be that she will never see her colleagues again. Since she faked her death (chapter 99), her karma will be that she gets killed for real. In my opinion, Heena is destined to suffer and die a horrible death. Remember that in this story, karma will be 1000% worse than the crime itself. She will be definitely blamed for the murder of many people. Since she claimed that nobles were filthy and violent liars, her doctrines and belief could be used against her, the moment the police investigate Black Heart’s death. .(chapter 102) She is a Christian, hence she could be accused of sacrilege too. In my eyes, Heena will never be able to bid farewell to her brother again. His words in the mansion will become a reality. (chapter 69) As you can see, I am detecting a progression in her wrongdoings. She is getting more and more involved, though there is no ambiguity that she was deceived herself in season 3. But this doesn’t excuse her crimes, for she refused to listen to her brother and called him an idiot. At no moment, she pondered on the situation. Her decisions were strongly influenced by her emotions (fear, anger and hatred). That’s the reason why I am convinced that if she is not dead (my theory), her attitude towards her brother will worsen to the point that she will call her brother a bird of misfortune! (chapter 68) Remember her metaphor concerning the gibang, it was viewed as a nest. She was already comparing her brother to a bird. (chapter 93) Thus the only thing that is missing is “of misfortune”. And she can only adopt such a belief, for everything she had planned never worked out. She imagined that she could exchange her brother for her freedom (chapter 97) which represented a betrayal of her own doctrines. But the result was that Min was killed, hence her situation can only deteriorate. If she can escape punishment concerning the nobles’ killing, she has then an opportunity to change her situation by putting the blame on her brother. Why? It is because Baek Na-Kyum will be perceived by Kim and the pedophile as the bird of misfortune. They will be reunited by this “belief”. This reinforces my conviction that the departures in season 4 will become very bloody and painful. The irony is that her metaphor with the bird revealed more about her own thoughts than she imagined. She just needed to give him some warmth, feed Baek Na-Kyum, and that was it. He had a bed and he could eat. A smile and a caress on the cheek were enough to motivate the painter. Her affection was fleeting and trivial in the end. However, while writing this essay, I realized why Baek Na-Kyum ended up drawing in the courtyard. It is because this was the only place where he could be in peace. In the room, he got assaulted by the nobles (chapter 94) or he had to witness his noona getting “beaten” by a violent noble (chapter 68). As you can see, the kitchen and the courtyard seemed to be the only place where he was left alone, until he got assault in the courtyard. Naturally, it was only possible during the day. Thus the learned sir had such a memory. (chapter 01)

5. Conclusions

The story is not only reflecting Heena’s metamorphosis and downfall, but also it serves as an example for the painter. Through her, he can grasp why Yoon Chang-Hyeon had such a cold gaze towards his own son. The ruin of their relationship will make him realize why the father could turn his back on his own son, the refusal of admitting his wrong choices and guilt. If he recalls their last argument, he can already notice the change in her gaze. (chapter 97) Fake concern versus anger and resent (chapter 97) The only difference is that here her fury and hatred were addressed more towards Yoon Seungho than the painter. However, gradually she was slowly revealing her anger towards her brother. At the end of season 3, her exit is quite sudden and brutal: staged death! (chapter 99) But by faking her death, she not only hides her desertion, but also she is not able to bid farewell to her brother. He is left behind unconscious, so he can not notice her “death”, while in her mind, she can only remember this image: (chapter 99) Baek Na-Kyum lying unconscious and his head covered in blood. Will she feel remorse and blame herself for his “death”? If she is still alive, it is possible, however the moment she realizes that Baek Na-Kyum escaped death and as such staged his curtains, she can only resent him, for he deceived her. In reality, she was the one who deceiving everyone: Jihwa and the other nobles. To conclude, she played a bigger role in Yoon Seungho’s suffering in the end.

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Painter Of The Night: Happy laughter 😄 and fearful agony 😧

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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What is the common denominator between all these images? The painter’s mouth is wide open. This implies that the painter is laughing! In other words, these pictures are showing a happy Baek Na-Kyum. The laughter is not just a symbol for joy, but also an indicator for social bonding, cooperation and as such social acceptance. Note that in all these scenes, the painter is not laughing alone. He is either facing his lover and the “witnesses” of his marriage.

On the other hand, what caught my attention is that in the story itself, the manhwaphiles never saw the painter laughing in the present!! The only time, he was caught laughing happened during a dream. (chapter 87) Naturally, this vision reflected the past due to the presence of the noonas. But if you read my previous analysis, you are aware that the painter’s nocturne visions are always composed of three elements: memory, nightmare and desires which will come true at some point. The readers will certainly recall the painter’s wish in the bedchamber: (chapter 81) However, here again, this was not real, for he was imagining it. He had restrained himself, for he felt that his actual life was like an illusion. It was too good to be true. Thus I conclude that in both visions, the painter wished to laugh and as such to be happy. And this observation led me to the following deduction. In season 4, the manhwalovers will witness Baek Na-Kyum’s laughter. But this doesn’t end here. All the quoted pictures share another similarity which is the absence of the sound!! There is no HA, HA, HA…. Thus I deduce that in season 4, the readers will even hear Baek Na-Kyum’s laugh!! 🤣

1. Evidences for this prediction

First, I would like to remind my avid readers the following rules: Yoon Seungho’s actions will always be reflected by the painter’s and the reverse. Secondly, each scene in a season will be mirrored in other seasons. Striking is that the readers could witness Yoon Seungho’s joy and laugh in season 1. Thus this means that the painter should laugh in season 4. Interesting is that the author had separated the lord’s laugher in two different scenes. In episode 1, the protagonist had his mouth wide open, because he was so happy to meet his idol. (chapter 1). His mouth was exposing his emotions: happiness. It was, as if he was laughing internally out of joy. Then in the pavilion, the author let us hear Yoon Seungho’s laugh, while we couldn’t see his face. (chapter 25) As you can see, Yoon Seungho was not truly seen “laughing”. This is what we saw right after: (chapter 25) Either the sound was missing, or the readers couldn’t see his open mouth. Then in chapter 51, Byeonduck created an ambiguous situation. (chapter 51) Who was laughing here? The main lead or Min recognizable with his green hanbok? This confusion was deliberate. It was to give the impression that the lord had moved on, he was not missing his partner. This image served to divulge the reality: this happiness was fake. Another interesting aspect is that we couldn’t see the lord’s mouth, for it was too far away. It was more or less drawn from the painter’s perspective who was walking in the courtyard. (chapter 51) The purpose of this trick was to deceive the painter, Yoon Seungho would no longer care for him. However, this trick didn’t work out like imagined due to the maid’s words. She wished that he would remain in the mansion. But let’s return our attention to the laugher in this panel. I would even add that there was no real social bounding, for Black Heart was enjoying about Yoon Seungho’s misery and loss. He believed that the painter had died. And if it was Yoon Seungho who laughed, then this was to mask his pain. Then in chapter 70, he was caught laughing. And observe that the author separated the sound from the face: (chapter 70) Yoon Seungho would even hide his face from the painter, as he was looking down. His laugh was barely perceptible, and when the author revealed his face, Yoon Seungho used his hand to mask his smile. (chapter 70) It was, as if Yoon Seungho was not allowed to smile or to laugh at all. I would even go so far to say that laughers were actually forbidden in the mansion. Striking is that in season 3, for the first time, we could see and hear the lord’s laughter contrary to season 1 and 2.. (chapter 78) This illustrates the progression of the lord’s healing. He was getting happier, and he would interact more and more with people. Yet, in this scene, the lord’s laughter was not loud contrary to the one in the pavilion. Then in the gibang, his laugh was also fake, for he was masking his pain. (chapter 93) Thus the author didn’t let us see his mouth once again. But the painter could see the difference between a sincere laughter and a fake one, as he had already heard and see the lord’s true laugher! Because the lord laughed in all 3 seasons, I could only assume the painter’s laughing in season 4. But I have another proof for this prediction. In season 3, the painter’s laughter was shown in visions (chapter 81, 87) or through the testimony of the maid. (chapter 91) However, the manhwalovers have to envision that, when he caught the pervert with the maid together, he was totally embarrassed. Hence his laugh was fake! In other words, I am doubting that he truly laughed. That’s the reason why Baek Na-Kyum denied to find the situation funny. (chapter 91) As a conclusion, expect a picture with Baek Na-Kyum ‘s laughter reflecting his happiness and sincerity. And this is definitely related to his marriage: I have another proof for this expectation, the lord’s mouth in this scene: (chapter 87) Here, he was making fun of his father, and used the rumors about his imminent marriage. That’s how I realized that in season 3, the lord had often played the role of the Joker (chapter 78-79; 87; 89-90-91), until he was replaced by Black Heart. That’s the reason why I have been predicting that in season 4, Yoon Seungho will play a huge prank on the old bearded men, especially the mysterious lord Song, with his marriage. But while making this connection between the lord’s laughter and the painter’s, I had another revelation: the mouth wide open is not just the expression for laughter, but also for fear and suffering.

2. Anxiety and torture

Look at this image: (chapter 102) There is no HAHA, this shows that this situation is not funny. Yet, Black Heart is still smiling, he is even explaining that they were just playing. However, this smile is totally fake, for he is already scared. Hence he is stuttering. Moreover, he is trying to downplay the whole situation, as he describes it as a game. But the closer Yoon Seungho got to him, the more the villain got scared. (chapter 102) On the other hand, Black Heart’s mouth remained wide open, but it slowly exposed his true emotions. As the manhwalovers can detect, the sound “Haa,” is not expressing joy or happiness, but huge anxieties. Thus I couldn’t help myself thinking that in season 4, the painter’s laughter will be reflected with the heavy breathing from fear and pain. Someone will have a mouth wide open out of fear!! And this connection was already present in chapter 1: (chapter 1) versus (chapter 1) Baek Na-Kyum and Yoon Seungho had both flashbacks (chapter 66), while Min was smiling. He was internally laughing, for it found it entertaining. [For more read the essay HAHA Flashbacks”] And this fear was exposed by the sound: HAA (chapter 99) But this doesn’t end here.

The sound HAA is just associated to anxiety, but also to moan. Hence I couldn’t restrain myself thinking that the wide open mouth can not only express pleasure, but also pain caused by TORTURE! Let’s not forget that the painter had been hiding his moaning out of pleasure in the past (chapter 84), but in the gibang, he dropped this habit for good: (chapter 96) This connection between pain, pleasure and laughter appeared in chapter 91, as the story is based on the following rule: there is always a reflection within the same episode. I would like the manhwaphiles to observe this image: (chapter 91) Here, the lord had changed position provoking pleasure to the artist. Before, the maid had laughed so loudly in order to get the painter’s attention. (chapter 91) According to my interpretation, she hoped that Baek Na-Kyum would discover the existence of the kisaeng’s letters so that the painter would feel betrayed by Yoon Seungho. He had ordered to hide the correspondence. But for that, she needed to explain the reason for her loud laughter. Hence she revealed the incident with the pervert. The irony is that due to his pleasure and embarrassment, Baek Na-Kyum didn’t pay attention to her words. He already felt ashamed, after the servant had exposed the situation in the bathroom. (chapter 91) Thus he avoided his lover’s gaze. And note that in chapter 25, the lord laughed, before he raped the painter. (chapter 25) This episode exposes the connection between laugh and pain. Here, you can see that the painter is also screaming out of pain, the negative reflection of Yoon Seungho’s laugh. Baek Na-Kyum’s mouth was wide open. When people are tortured, they will usually scream their pain and fear.

The last image is taken from Dong-Yi, a historical k-drama, which I am employing as a reference. The beholder can detect a huge difference between this scene (chapter 37) and the one from Dong-Yi. The absence of the sound. Moreover, the manhwalovers can not see the mouths from the victims either. The torture was already finished, for they had removed the tools and the „suspects“ were covered with blood. And this leads me to the following observation. The author selected a perspective from far away, and didn’t add the sound on purpose. This shows that the pedophile was not present, when the torture took place. He only arrived afterwards. This exposes his cowardice. Secondly, since I had outlined that the author had separated the sound (HA HA) from the lord’s mouth concerning the laughter, I am quite certain that she will use a similar processes for the torture. Naturally, I am also assuming that torture from the past could be slowly revealed. Consequently, my prediction is that the negative reflection of the painter’s laughter will be the yelling combined with fear and pain. This signifies that people will suffer in season 4 and probably die. Another evidence for this prediction is that the author often focused on the characters’ mouth. And this is what we have: (chapter 77) (chapter 86) (chapter 98) In the last scene, Heena was sort of “punished”, when she confessed to the main lead. That’s the reason why I believe that in season 4, we will see people screaming out of pain and fear. It can be in the present or in the past. The interrogation and torture should be exposed in my eyes contrary to chapter 37. Why? It is because Baek Na-Kyum needs to know what happened to Yoon Seungho to understand him. There is no ambiguity that the painter will suffer again, for in this work “pain” is necessary to change the painter’s mind and heart. Remember that he was “tormented”, when he finally admitted that he believed in his lover’s innocence. (chapter 99) Despite the “torture”, he still claimed that Yoon Seungho was no murderer. Thus I conclude that in the next season, it should be the reverse. Yoon Seungho has to make a new leap of faith believing in the painter’s innocence and purity. Hence I am expecting an arrest in season 4. Finally, we shouldn’t overlook that each word Yoon Seungho said became the truth, so when he stated this (chapter 65), he was already warning the sister. She could face human justice. However, this idiom suddenly caught my attention: “the wrath of humans”. It can be a reference to the authorities, but also to the inhabitants. The latter could get infuriated by the police work and put the officers under pressure or in the worst case, the inhabitants could decide to do their own justice: lynch mob. According to me, many commoners died in season 3. Hence this could upset the town folks who would ask for real justice. And if Yoon Seungho’s fiancée is acknowledged by them, then it will be impossible for the pedophile to use the authorities to achieve his goal, separate the couple and hide his own crimes. Thus his last puppets will have to take the fall. Another important aspect is that when Yoon Seungho warned the kisaeng, Kim was also present, though he still remained in the background. (chapter 65) As you can imagine, I am already sensing a bad ending for Heena and Kim. Striking is that in this scene, while the noona was seen constantly with her mouth wide open, yelling at the host and calling for her brother, the latter was having a flashback. This is no coincidence, especially if you recall that Heena was connected to Baek Na-Kyum’s tears: (chapter 68) (chapter 94) In fact, this reinforces my conviction that the painter’s laughter will be contrasted with people’s moaning and yells out of agony. At the same time, I think that Heena is connected to scandal, but in season 2 and 3, she failed to create a ruckus. Why? It is because in the past, she had helped to cover up the crimes committed in the kisaeng house.

3. Conclusions

Under this new perspective, the manhwalovers can comprehend why I used the following emojis in the title: 😄😧 Both of them have a open mouth, the only difference are the eyes. Out of fear, the eyes get bigger, because the body is in survival modus. On the other hand, when these persons got tortured, they closed their eyes out of agony,

reminding us of the painter’s suffering in the gibang. Yet, the closed eyes and the open mouth is quite similar to the painter’s laughter: The readers can grasp why I made this connection between suffering and happiness in the end.

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: The rise of the dragon 🐲

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.

1. Yoon Seungho the king

After the end of season 1, I had been contacted by many followers asking me about the possible ending of Painter Of The Night. Many feared for a depressing ending, as Byeonduck had declared that the protagonists would be happy on their own. In their mind, this meant that the protagonists wouldn’t end up together. My reply was that the couple would become happy without getting too dependent on each other. I meant Yoon Seungho and Baek Na-Kyum would come to give a new sense to their own life, and their love would help them to have a goal and purpose in their life. And that’s how real couples live. Thus while examining season 1 closely, I came to imagine that Yoon Seungho would become the king and Baek Na-Kyum his painter. As you can see, very early on, I connected the noble to royalty. Why? First, we had the lord outlining his powerful position in front of the painter. (chapter 11) Secondly, I had associated the main lead to the eagle which is the symbol for the kings and emperors in Europe. He was seen here flying (chapter 30), and his fingers reminded me of the eagle’s claws. (chapter 18) And this perception got even reinforced, when I saw this panel: (chapter 52) In this scene, he was sitting like a king surrounded by his “court”. The hanbok had such a design that I couldn’t help myself associating it to Joseon’s monarchy.

However, I have to admit my mistake, for this interpretation was strongly influenced by my own culture and as such European history. Yet, here we are dealing with Korean and as such with Joseon culture. Hence the symbol for Joseon’s dynasty is not the eagle, but the dragon. That’s why when I saw this new image on Twitter , I had another revelation. On the one hand, it actually confirmed that Yoon Seungho was somehow destined to become a king, yet he is not represented by the eagle or the phoenix, but by the dragon. Hence the moment I saw this image, one idiom came to my mind: Dragon king!

2. Yongwang

Because of this sudden association, I decided to look more into it. Thus imagine my surprise, when I discovered this:

https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2022/10/113_324712.html

Yongwang, or Dragon King, is a deity of the river or the sea, overseeing peace in the house, good health and longevity in the family, the harvest, catch and safe sailing. Yongwang is also called Yongsin (Dragon God).

Communities worshipped Yongwang as a water god, holding divine powers to control rainfall. Dragon King worship is closely related to the contemporary practice of staging rituals at village springs or wells that are believed to be dwelling places for Yongwang. Around the country there are also legends regarding dragon springs and dragon wells, created by a dragon that brought rain to repay humans by turning wasteland fertile, which shows that Yongwang is closely related to farming. […] In shamanism, Yongwang oversees not only fishing, but the souls of those who have drowned and died. In the worship of household gods, it is a deity that oversees peace in the household, good health and longevity in the family, the harvest, catch and safe sailing.

Among rituals held for Yongwang in the home by women, the most widely spread is yongwangmeogigi (feeding the dragon king), also referred to as yongsinje (dragon god ritual) and gaetje (fishing ritual). This ritual can take place in three different venues: First is a private well in the backyard; second is the communal well, where, in some cases, a spring ritual (saemje) is held, then water from the well is brought to the home and placed in the kitchen or on the sauce jar terrace for the Dragon King; […] https://folkency.nfm.go.kr/en/topic/detail/2618

The moment I read this article, I couldn’t restrain myself making the parallels between Yoon Seungho and Yongwang. First, the deity in the background reminded me of Yongwang. (chapter 100), though this deity is always accompanied with a dragon and in this picture, the readers couldn’t see one. However, it is possible that the author didn’t desire to reveal too much.

“his most distinctive traits are that his beard, moustache and eyebrows are (usually) “spiky,” protruding in sharp points, sometimes resembling coral, and his eyes are often bulging out like those of a fish. He most often holds the banya-jinju (般若眞珠, flaming pearl of wisdom, a type of ma-niju 摩尼珠), but sometimes a branch of coral or a sword.” quoted from http://www.san-shin.org/EKB-Yongwang-DragonKing.html  

Secondly, we have a strong connection between rain and the main lead’s situation and emotional state. It rained, when the lord had sex with Baek Na-Kyum. (chapter 21) Why? It is because the lord was happy. These were the tears of happiness, which Yoon Seungho couldn’t express contrary to the painter. And this is no coincidence that in chapter 58, it started snowing, when the couple was making love: (chapter 58) And we had the same weather, when Yoon Seungho saved his lover. (chapter 102) The weather was expressing the main lead’s emotions: tears of happiness or sadness. We could say that the lord has the “power” to move the sky.

Furthermore, the well plays a huge role in this story. Many people are found dead in a well (chapter 97), and according to me, the messenger was drown there. (chapter 94) In addition, my theory is that Deok-Jae and/or Jung In-Hun’s body were placed in a jar in order to hide the murders. For me, the jar plays a huge role in Painter Of The Night… thus Byeonduck created such a scene in season 2 (chapter 46) and we have so many jars next to the pond: (chapter 94) [For more read the essay “The secret behind the library”]

Furthermore, this story takes place in Jemulpo, a town situated next to the sea, and Yongwang’s realm is supposed to be in the sea. (chapter 91) This is no coincidence. To conclude, all these elements (rain, jar, well, soul of a deceased), connected to the dragon king, are present in Painter Of The Night. Thus I came to the conclusion that Yoon Seungho is like Dragon king. This reinforces my conviction that the main lead is not only connected to shamanism, but also embodies royalty. So he might not be the king of Joseon, but he is powerful in his own way, though he is not aware of this. And note that the moment he wished to commit suicide by drowning in the pond, he was brought back to life. (chapter 102) Water is his true element.

In different temples, you can discover Yongwang accompanied with a woman. She is also dressed in royal clothes with a small crown. What’s unclear is if she’s another Yongwang or if she’s his wife. And this could be a reference to the painter, who will become Yoon Seungho’s bride, but his true identity will remain hidden.

What caught my attention is that the rituals concerning Yongwang are held by women, which stands in opposition to the shrine and Confucianism. (chapter 85) This means that in the Yoons’ mansion, people didn’t venerate this god. And since the aristocrat made such a statement to the elder Yoon Chang-Hyeon, (chapter 86), I have the impression that in season 4, we will assist to a real ritual to ward off evil and back luck, leading the tormenting souls to the afterlife peacefully.

And this leads me to the following observation, the dragon in Korea and Joseon is perceived as a good omen! He would bring good fortune.

Since the release, I realized that the decorated tree (chapter 100) and this altar (chapter 100) were exposing the presence of a ritual. However, my problem was that I couldn’t determine exactly the nature of the ritual. But by making the connection between the dragon and good fortune, I had now more clues. I have to admit that I can not be 100% sure for this, but this is what I found:

Yonggyeong (Kor. 용경, Chin. 龍耕, lit. dragon’s plowing) is a custom observed on Dongji (Kor. 동지, Chin. 冬至, Winter Solstice) in which people tried to predict the outcome of farming for the upcoming year based on the direction and angle of cracks on the surface of a frozen pond. The custom is also known as yonggari (Kor. 용갈이) or yong-ui batgari (Kor. 용의 밭갈이), both meaning ‘plowing by the dragon.’ When ice covers a pond, there is often a crack that divides the ice sheet into two halves, as though a field were divided along a furrow left after plowing. This phenomenon was considered a trail left by a dragon and, therefore, interpreted as having divinatory power concerning farming success in the year ahead. […]

According to another custom referred to as dongbok (Kor. 동복, Chin. 凍卜, lit. ice fortune-telling), on the eve of the year’s first full moon (the fourteenth of the first lunar month), people left two bowls of fresh water out overnight and positioned them north and south of each other. The next morning, they examined the ice sheet that appeared in the bowls and tried to predict the success of farming in the northern and southern regions.  quoted from https://folkency.nfm.go.kr/en/topic/detail/4622

The timing fits to our story, and we have the presence of bowls in front of the deity in the yard. In my eyes, the shaman had prepared a ritual for the dragon king, and was praying for the success of the farming. Don’t forget that it takes place just before Spring. Consequently, this is not surprising that the lord got connected to peasants and this very early on. (chapter 4) (chapter 6) (chapter 82)

This observation leads me to the following conclusion: Yoon Seungho, as a new version of Dragon King, will bring luck to the commoners and peasants. He will help them to improve their living conditions (education and good farming). As you already know, I consider Yoon Seungho as a representative of Sirhak. [For more information read the essay “The scholars’ fight”] And now, you comprehend why very early on, I expected that Yoon Seungho would become a king. He doesn’t need to become a real “king”, yet there is no ambiguity that his fate is to become famous as a spiritual and fair leader.

3. Dragon and imoogi

That’s the reason why I started looking for more information about the dragon. As the readers could see through the deity, this mythical animal is strongly connected to water!

What caught my attention is that the Korean dragon has no wing, yet it can still fly and he has a small beard (hair around the mouth)!! But more importantly, this creature is a combination of different animals: the body of the snake, the antlers of the deer, the forehead of the camel, the nose of a pig, the ears of the cow, the claws of the hawk, the scales of the carp, the fist of a tiger and the eyes of the rabbit! He contains all the strongest features of these animals:

  1. luck for the pig
  2. strength for the tiger
  3. elegance of a deer
  4. stubbornness and resistance of a camel
  5. compassionate and giving nature of a cow
  6. the constant change, the metamorphosis of a snake (cycle of death and rebirth)
  7. the rapidity of a hawk
  8. fertility of a carp
  9. the abundance of the rabbit by sharing its eyes

In other sources, I read that the Korean dragon had also features of the dog, the frog and the sheep. But why does this mythical animal possess so many features from different creatures? It is because this powerful, God-like creature embodies the love and respect Korean people have for the natural world. I would even say that he represents nature, and as such he stands for harmony and justice. By being sharing features of different animals, he can understand their life. This is not surprising that the Joseon kings utilized this animal as their emblem. It symbolizes their power (omnipotence and “immortality”) while substantiating their ability to be fair and just rulers. 

Striking is that we have an allusion to these animals in Painter Of The Night. First, the lord was able to kill the boar (chapter 83) and the deer (chapter 22). Then the lord compared Baek Na-Kyum’s eyes to a rabbit. (chapter 78) Since both resemble each other, I deduce that the main lead has the same eyes, the rabbit’s. Like mentioned above, he utilized his fingers similar to claws: (chapter 18) He would fly like a bird, though he has no wing (chapter 30). His fists in this scene reminded me of a tiger’s: (chapter 54) One might argue that this signification is totally impossible, for the lord doesn’t have the body of a snake. This point can be refuted very easily. What is the major characteristic of a snake is molting. A regularly recurrent event during the activity period of all snakes is the shedding of the skin. This coincides with the lord’s change of clothes. The latter reflected his downfall and rising. Furthermore, this animal is linked to death and rebirth. My avid readers are already aware that I had detected different scenes, where we could witness the lord’s spiritual death and rebirth, like for example in the shed: (chapter 62) When he discovered his misjudgment the next morning, he felt like dead. He no longer saw himself as a lord, but came to view the painter as his new lord : (chapter 66) As a conclusion, Yoon Seungho shares so many similarities with the dragon that I came to view him as one. This explicates why even after getting married, he will never wear a beard! The change of dresses and hair dresses of Yoon Seungho represents the different social status in Joseon society: young master, painter, male kisaeng, slave, peasant, executioner, servant, lord, concubine, “wife”/husband” etc. Moreover, since I had detected parallels between the protagonist and the legend of Dangun, this could only reinforce my conviction that Byeonduck is referring to old tales and religions (and as such Dragon King) in her story. The author has already stated that she won’t create a story with the couple set in our time, and this becomes understandable, if she is constantly referring to old traditions and myths.

According to different sources, the Korean dragon is not born as such.

“Korean mythology states dragons were born from a mating ritual between a phoenix and a crane. This led the dragon to become a creature that harnessed mythical power and intelligence.” Quoted from https://daebak.co/en-de/blogs/magazine/animal-symbolism-in-south-korea

My avid readers will certainly recall my associations for the characters, Yoon Seungho was the phoenix and Baek Na-Kyum a crane. Thus we could say that their union makes them the dragon bringing justice and peace to victims. In another source, I found that the dragons were once said to be Imoogi in the beginning, a giant lizard that resembles sea serpents. They exist several different versions on how Imoogi become Dragons. One said it would take a thousand years for them to become a dragon, while another says they must catch Yeouiju (star) falling from the sky. Thus in temples and in pictures, the Korean dragon is also always represented with a ball.

Another theory that exists and sounds the most logical to me, says that Imoogi was born in a place where living and dead intermingled. It was created in cave where thousands of people were stuck due to war in 420AD. As more and more people started to die in the cave, their intense agony and suffering led the foundation for Imoogi’s birth and therefore it symbolizes destruction and sadness. Imoogi controls the power of birth, death and rebirth. Ouroboros, a symbol of wholeness/infinity is also represented by a snake(serpent) eating its tail.” quoted from https://rtaori60.medium.com/imoogi-the-great-lizard-aca02c6c9b1e

Since it takes 1000 years for an imoogi to transform into a dragon, we have 10 years of suffering in Painter Of The Night. For me, this is not random at all. This means that after chapter 102, Yoon Seungho turned into a real dragon! This corresponds to his Coming-Of-Age. That’s the reason why I don’t think that he will be manipulated again like in season 2 and 3! My avid readers are already aware of the presence of ouroboros in this manhwa. For me, Kim symbolizes the imoogi and Ouroboros! He could never turn into a real dragon. But why does the imoogi need to wait for so long ? Some say that this is a curse, other traditions hold the idea that Imoogi are “pupae” or “larvae” of dragons. And they will become full-fledged and full-fledged dragons after being in the ocean for 1000 years. This signifies that time, experience and patience are essential for this transformation. Thus not every imoogi can become a dragon in the end, and that’s Kim’s fate. He was not able to recognize Yoon Seungho as his “yeouiji”. The shaman’s house reminds me of the cavern (chapter 102), and thanks to the painter, Yoon Seungho’s soul was able to escape this “mental prison”.

And this leads me to the following aspect: Baek Na-Kyum is the lord’s Yeouiji, his fallen star fulfilling all his wishes. That’s the reason why the dragon is never seen without his star. One might say that this is exaggerated. However, my avid readers should remember that I had associated the painter to a star, the sun, in previous essays, even before making the relation between the dragon and Yoon Seungho! This explicates why the lord is carrying his lover like his bride (chapter 45) (chapter 102), similar to the dragon in the picture above. His “star” serves as his guide, support and his source of life. Thus when the main lead confessed to the painter for the first time, the sun entered the bedchamber (chapter 55) and as such his heart and mind.

Therefore I come to the conclusion that in season 4, the readers will witness a clash between two dragons, the king and Yoon Seungho! The fight between the fake and the real dragon! Thus when the author released this panel recently, (Twitter), she was actually announcing the arrival of the monarch in Joseon. Hence you comprehend why I selected such a title, the rise of the dragon. “Lord Song” can no longer hide his true identity.

4. Dragon king and expulsion

My readers will certainly recall that the starting point of this essay was this expression “dragon king” which came to my mind, when I saw the recent publication. Why? First, the main figure was wearing the gonryongpo (곤룡포), where dragons are sewn on it. This hanbok is the everyday robe for the king which explains why the latter is always wearing the red robe all the time he appears in front of people. Hence I made this association in my mind: dragon king. When Byeonduck published this image, , she was naturally creating a new story, another Alternative Universe. The student Baek Na-Kyum who got bullied by the classmate Deok-Jae was suddenly sent back to Joseon, and appeared in front of the king’s bedchamber, Yoon Seungho.

Striking is that this panel resembles a lot to this picture which the author hasn’t used yet: The painter is sitting inside a room, while Jung In-Hun is standing outside. Nonetheless, the position of the characters are very similar. This indicates that the author’s new alternative story is actually inspired by the main story!! This can only reinforce my perception that Yoon Seungho in the main story is associated to royalty. However, since it is a reflection, I deduce that this image is the positive reflection of this scene: How did the learned sir react here? He criticized the painter by stating that this was “filthy”. In this scene, the characters are caught by surprise, but it becomes obvious that there is no disgust or expulsion. In fact, the fall of man took place before, for Baek Na-Kyum was sent to Joseon. In this encounter, I detect attraction and curiosity. Hence I come to the conclusion that in the original story, when this scene took place, , Yoon Seungho was far from being living like a king. As you already know, according to my interpretation, the protagonist was treated like a male kisaeng. That’s the reason why I believe that this scene played a huge role in Yoon Seungho’s liberation, the physical expulsion from hell in the end. Since in the parallel story, the student experienced time-travel and as such rejection and expulsion, I conclude that in the main story, Yoon Seungho must have made a similar experience! But this doesn’t end here, as the readers should keep in the mind the following rule: The painter’s destiny reflects the lord’s.

On the other hand, the manhwaphiles will complain that so far, Yoon Seungho has never appeared as a dragon. Yet, we shouldn’t overlook that the phoenix is the symbol for the Queen in Joseon. (chapter 50) (chapter 52) This means that the mysterious lord Song was actually claiming the main lead as his wife in the last scene. Min and his friends were sent there in order to entertain the protagonist, but they failed. This explicates why the next day, Black Heart was seen with a hanbok of lower quality. (chapter 56) It was, as if Min had been compensated for his bruised face by the mysterious lord Song. However, for the pedophile, Black Heart was just a concubine, and not his main wife! Hence the hanbok had not such a detailed and expensive design. This would explain the villain’s jealousy. And now, if you look back at the hanboks from the main lead, you will recognize his ascent. First, he is wearing green, which is similar to Yoon Chang-Hyeon’s color. At the same time, his hat resembled a lot to Kim’s. (chapter 1) Then later, he is mostly wearing blue which is actually the color of the Crown prince. (chapter 11) Yet, his robes initially have no design. Slowly, the lord is wearing colors and designs that are actually reserved for a king: blue, red, black and purple. This constant change of hanboks symbolizes the “snake molting” and as such his transformation and rising. This is not astonishing that on the night of the bloodbath, he had such a hanbok: (chapter 102) Here, he was no longer acting like a noble, but as a ruler. Don’t forget that according to me, the mysterious lord Song had proclaimed the main lead as his unofficial Queen by giving him hanboks with phoenixes. However, naturally, this was never mentioned to Yoon Seungho directly. Why? It is because Kim usually selects his clothes. However, this rise was not natural, as the lord had no real saying in this matter. The real metamorphosis took place in the shaman’s house, when the lord was sent back to the past and as such the darkness. (chapter 102) The moment he left the “cave”, he went to the mountain and surrounded by the wind and water, he changed into a dragon. This expulsion corresponds to the final release, the lord’s mind is finally freed from the darkness, while I believe that this scene is linked to the lord’s physical liberation. .

5. Nightmare and dream

Above, I had mentioned that the painter was the dragon’s fallen star and the love sessions were strongly connected to the weather. If so, why did it snow, when the learned sir left the mansion? (chapter 44) It is because the main lead was thinking that the painter would actually run away. Thus the door was left opened, and he was wearing warm clothes. Yoon Seungho never imagined that Baek Na-Kyum would remain by his side. Yet, during the previous night, the lord had consoled his lover by embracing him.

Furtheremore, the manhwalovers could also wonder why the lord had a nightmare in the bedchamber after their second love session? The painter’s presence should have brought relief. Moreover, during that night, there was no rain. (chapter 71) But this can be refuted easily. First, don’t forget that during this love session, the lord was acting like a servant pleasing his new lord. So this had nothing to do with Yoon Seungho’s feelings like sadness or happiness. He was determined to keep the painter by his side, and ignoring his own feelings. He never expected the artist to reciprocate his feelings. Secondly, Yoon Seungho’s nocturne vision is not just a nightmare, but also a DREAM! Yes, you are reading this correctly. Only recently, I discovered that all the artist’s visions are a combination of 3 elements: memory, nightmare and dream! I will give you three examples as illustration, for I am slowly running out of time.

Chapter 28: This vision is a combination of these three elements: memory, nightmare and dream. This had happened during the First Wedding Night (memory) (chapter 21), then we have a similar situation in chapter 49: , , but the painter was rejecting this future. Hence he considered it as a nightmare.

  • Chapter 34 : Memory ; nightmare the lord becomes a ghost and confronts the painter with his biggest fears (admitting his attraction, passion for erotic paintings and homosexuality) and dream (The painter’s true desire was that the lord would kiss him, he was deeply longing for his lips, yet he was still in denial in this vision.
  • Chapter 98: Memory, for the painter was remembering the corpse in the courtyard, a dream, as he wished the return of his loved one . He hoped that the lord would take care of him personally. Naturally, the “spirit” is the nightmare .

Since the lord’s fate and personality are similar to the painter’s, I could only come to the conclusion that the lord’s vision in the bedchamber is not just showing the past and the future horror. It also exposes the lord’s dream and hope! 😮

So where were his desires visible? First it was about breaking free from his jail… (chapter 74) This had already happened, but the lord had not grasped the significance. (chapter 53) Besides, he had not opened the door himself. Even when he went to the scholar Lee and opened the door with the his foot, the lord still felt trapped. (chapter 67) Then in season 3, he could break a door, but it was thanks to the painter. (chapter 96) This shows that the lord’s wish to get released had not been fulfilled so far. In my eyes, it is connected to the torture Yoon Seungho suffered and as such to the purge organized by the authorities. That’s the reason why I deduce that the lord will break a door in season 4, and this won’t be by accident and it will be witnessed by many people contrary to chapter 53, 67 and 96! The broken door will reflect the lord’s rise and power, and no one will be able to stop this. In my eyes, this wish is connected to the door in the servants’ quarter. That’s how his imprisonment started.

Moreover, the protagonist was voicing his thoughts, the reproach to Kim and his father! They had abandoned him. (chapter 74) The “dragon” wished to see Kim and his father, and confront them! And this did take place in season 3. Yoon Seungho confronted the butler with his attitude and betrayal (chapter 77), but this argument was just short-lived. He still viewed the valet as a hard-working and trustworthy person. He had just made bad decisions. Then in the bedchamber, the lord could blame the father for his suffering: (chapter 86) As you can see, the lord’s wishes were granted, but the nocturne vision was so difficult to grasp that neither the readers nor the main lead could interpret the message correctly immediately. Besides, the nightmare was mostly silent. But this doesn’t end here.

(chapter 74) In this image, he is floating in the air… a sign that his status is changing. At the same time, this shows that he is escaping from the hands. They are trying to drag the main lead down. Thus I come to the conclusion that the vision was announcing the lord’s transformation (into a dragon) and as such his “rise”. Note that in this image, he is still a teenager, but in the following panel the protagonist has already become an adult. (chapter 74) Simultaneously, the vision also displays the lord’s expulsion from “hell”, the sex orgies (chapter 74). the hands are trying to bring him back. This image displayed that Yoon Seungho would become powerful, and the hands wouldn’t be able to contain him any longer. The pink is a reference to the painter, and not just to the gibang! Thanks to the painter, Yoon Seungho is changing so that he will be able to face the KING, but not only him!! This is what the dream was telling him too. Thus we have this image: (chapter 74) Simultaneously, the dream showed that the lord wished to see this painting again, though deep down, he blames this image for his suffering. As you can see, the vision was revealing the tormented disposition of the lord. He was switching from nightmare to dream and the reverse… a mixture of anxieties and desires.

However, pay attention that the painting was standing behind Yoon Seungho, when the hand grabbed him (chapter 74) This signifies that he was approached by someone from behind, he had not noticed that the “door” had been opened. Thus he never expected his apparition. For me, this perception demonstrates that the painting is not the real cause for Yoon Seungho’s suffering. Since he had turned around, I came to recognize that this scene stands in opposition to the situation in the painter’s nightmare: (chapter 34) The painter had been able to witness the entrance of the ghost contrary to Yoon Seungho. The latter was caught by surprise. This image illustrates the lord’s biggest fear. That’s how I realized that his biggest nightmare is not the pedophile in my opinion, for the main lead in Baek Na-Kyum’s “nightmare” (chapter 34) stands for attraction, honesty and love… thus it should be the opposite in Yoon Seungho’s nightmare: repulsion, betrayal and resent! He fears to admit the truth, the biggest traitor is Kim, but he is still in denial. He has repressed the terrible betrayal from Kim, just like the painter’s, though I think that the biggest traitor in Baek Na-Kyum’s case is not really Jung In-Hun, but Heena. This would explain why Heena noona was not present in the terrible vision in chapter 34. This is not random that we don’t see the face of the owner’s hand. Naturally, the king was involved in this betrayal, for Yoon Seungho is caught between the hand and the painting. He was trapped between two forces.

This means that Baek Na-Kyum will help Yoon Seungho to face the truth: Kim is a traitor and the king is the pedophile. The vision is indicating that the butler will betray him again in the future, backstab him one more time… However, this time he will recognize his action. Why? Because this time, there is light in the room… as Baek Na-Kyum symbolizes the Yeouiju, the fallen star helping the dragon. If the author presents another dream from the main lead, we will definitely get new clues. And this brings me to the following conclusion:

Yoon Seungho had been portrayed as a bird of misfortune on purpose. (chapter 86) In reality, he was a dragon, who could bring luck and fortune to the person who would cherish him. This is no coincidence that the pedophile sent hanboks with the crane (chapter 34), (chapter 45) In his eyes, the main lead brought him luck, as all his wishes got fulfilled, and he was never caught committing a sacrilege or crimes. However, since the presence of Baek Na-Kyum by Yoon Seungho’s side, it looks like nothing is going like planned. The main lead is not only drifting more and more away from him, he even left everything behind. That’s the reason why I believe that the dragon, the king, will vent his anger on many people in season 4, a new version of this scene. (chapter 30), but much more brutal and violent!  While this “dragon”, the king, stands for court, and as such civilization and immobility, the Korean dragon embodies nature and hope for commoners who dreamt of ascending the ranks! This is not surprising that Baek Na-Kyum is slowly ascending the ranks, while in the past Kim was acting as the unofficial lord of the Yoons’ mansion.

As a conclusion, in season 4, expect a battle between an “imoogi” and dragons. In addition, it becomes obvious that the winners will be our beloved couple. Since Yoon Seungho was turned into a “dragon”, I am more than ever convinced that he will act like in season 1: confident, perceptive, smart and cheerful! He can not longer be used like a pawn, for the “dragon” can not be tamed! And removing the falling star would signify the dragon’s death!

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