Please support the authors by reading Manhwas on the official websites. This is where you can read the Manhwa: Jinx But be aware that the Manhwa is a mature Yaoi, which means, it is about homosexuality with explicit scenes. Here is the link of the table of contents about Jinx. Here is the link where you can find the table of contents of analyzed Manhwas. Here are the links, if you are interested in the first work from Mingwa, BJ Alex, and the 2 previous essays about Jinx The Hot Sparks and Feverish Reality part 1 – part 2
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Since a new chapter is released today, this analysis can not be long. I started composing just before the release of episode 86. Yet I was not able to finish it on time, hence I postponed it, as I knew that my avid readers would be more interested in the interactions between doc Dan and Joo Jaekyung in the bedroom. 
🌶️😂
Introduction — Why Floors Matter When Everyone Looks at the Couple
Most readers of Jinx focus on the obvious: the central couple, their attraction, their conflicts, their intimacy
(chapter 85). Against this emotional core, elements such as carpets, hallways, floors, and room layouts may seem secondary, even irrelevant. 
(chapter 85) Why care about the color of a carpet or the direction a door opens 
(chapter 85), when the real story unfolds between Joo Jaekyung and Kim Dan?
Yet it is precisely through these overlooked details that the narrative reveals something essential. 
(chapter 82) Floors and patterns are not neutral decoration. They function as a parallel narrative system—one that tracks changes in status 
(chapter 85), exposes the actual situations in which the characters are placed 
(chapter 85), and helps us locate spaces and relationships within the hotel architecture itself. In other words, the floors do not merely frame the story; they add a spatial depth that sharpens our understanding of the “characters.”
(chapter 82)
My attention was first drawn to this system through a seemingly trivial observation: the carpet in the restaurant where the team dines at the restaurant of the hotel. (chapter 85) Its ornate red-and-gold pattern had already reappeared in the press conference venue, though here, it was covered by a black staircase leading to the stage. 
(chapter 82) 
(chapter 82) One might think, the only information we get is that MFC had booked a conference room at the hotel where Team Black is staying. However, in the States, the carpet of the hallway at the hotel had a similar pattern. 
(chapter 37) This similarity and repetition caught my attention. It suggests continuity between public spectacle and private space, between what is shown and what is concealed. Following this thread led to a broader realization: the floors simultaneously signal elevation and confinement. They show who appears powerful—and who is, in fact, enclosed.
From that moment on, it became impossible to ignore what the architecture was doing. The story of Jinx is not only written on bodies and faces, but also under the characters’ feet. 
(chapter 37)
The Carpet as a Double Register: Status and Situation
The first function of the recurring floor patterns is to mark status. The restaurant and conference carpets belong to spaces of visibility and performance. They are the domains of reputation, hierarchy, and spectacle. Fighters shine, journalists observe, managers negotiate. The gold tones evoke prestige, success, and imperial grandeur—fitting for a man nicknamed The Emperor. (chapter 82)
But this is only half of the story.
The same patterns also describe the actual situation of the characters. (chapter 85) The intersecting lines resemble a net or wire fence. Because of their golden color, the danger is masked by luxury. What looks like elevation can also be read as enclosure. The higher the status appears, the more invisible the constraints become. And now, you comprehend why at the conference, the red-golden carpet was covered with a black stage. (chapter 82) It was to mask the true fate of fighters in general, they are trapped in a system where they are exploited. They can only exit such a system, where their career reach their end.
This dual function—status marker and situational indicator—becomes clearer, when we compare the French hotel to the American one. In the United States, a similar pattern appears in the hallway near the rooms, but there the lines are not fully closed, are less rigid and oppressive. 
(chapter 37) It is in that hallway that Kim Dan collapses after drinking a drugged beverage. He literally falls onto the carpet, on his knees. The trap activates—but not on its intended target.
This detail is crucial. The beverage was delivered by someone connected to Choi Gilseok and Heo Manwook 
(chapter 46), not by MFC directly. The scheme exists, but it is imperfect. Joo Jaekyung is not truly “caught” in that moment, which explains why the plan ultimately fails.
When the same visual language reappears in France, now under the umbrella of MFC itself, the implication changes. The trap is no longer improvised. It is institutional. (chapter 85) Don’t forget that this match had been presented as an invitation from the CEO. 
(chapter 69) As you can see, the pattern of the carpet could be seen as an evidence for a trap, and the “Emperor” is their target once again. Their plan is to end his career so that all the incidents and crimes from the past can be buried.
Another detail reinforces how central the floor patterns are to the scene: there are two distinct carpet designs present linked to the conference. Alongside the geometric, fence-like pattern associated with luxury and institutional order, a second pattern appears in the hallway (chapter 82) —one that unmistakably recalls an animal skin, resembling a leopard or panther coat. This is not an abstract association, but a visual continuity within the story itself.
It is precisely on the geometric carpet that Arnaud Gabriel approaches Kim Dan 
(chapter 82). The opponent stands on the surface that embodies order, hierarchy, and control, and behaves accordingly. He flirts, comments on the doctor’s eyes, and treats the moment as harmless. Then he turns his back. 
(chapter 82) He never steps onto, nor does he seem to register, the animal-patterned carpet nearby, as doc Dan was standing on a white-off carpet. In other words, Arnaud Gabriel interacts only with the space that reflects the institution’s worldview.
The champion’s reaction exposes what that worldview ignores. Once the official from MFC translates the remark, Joo Jaekyung’s response is immediate, physical and almost uncontrollable. 
(chapter 82) This is not the response of a neutralized Emperor, but the instinctive surge of a predator whose territory has been violated. The scene echoes an earlier, more intimate image from the bathroom in chapter 30, 
(chapter 30), where Joo Jaekyung appeared wearing leopard-patterned pajamas. The animal imagery was already present then, but dormant. Here, it reawakens.
This is where MFC’s miscalculation becomes visible. They mistake enclosure for domestication, hence we have the golden cage: (chapter 85) They believe that status, luxury, and isolation are enough to tame the Emperor. Yet the leopard has never been erased—only restrained. The golden cage does not eliminate his dangerousness; it merely hides it from those who assume obedience has replaced instinct. By turning his back, the opponent symbolically aligns himself with the institution’s blindness. He believes the champion is contained and probably diminished. He is wrong. (chapter 82)
Thus, the carpet reveals more than a trap. It exposes a false sense of control. While the fence appears tight and escape seems impossible, the presence of Kim Dan at the table changes the equation entirely. 
(chapter 85) The champion is not alone inside the cage. He is supported, grounded, and no longer isolated. What MFC fails to see is that this support does not weaken the predator—it stabilizes him. And a stabilized predator is far more dangerous than a cornered one. For years, Joo Jaekyung’s violence was reactive, triggered by threat, humiliation, or loss of control. Such a fighter is powerful, but predictable. He can be provoked, exhausted, and manipulated.
Kim Dan changes this equilibrium. By anchoring the champion emotionally and physically, he removes the constant background noise of fear, resentment, and isolation. Joo Jaekyung no longer needs to fight the environment itself. His aggression is no longer dispersed; it is focused. This is precisely what MFC miscalculates. They believe possession equals control. They assume that calming the fighter makes him easier to manage. In reality, it makes him harder to deceive. Kim Dan’s role is decisive here. He has become the true owner of the “beast”, but MFc has not detected this change. Moreover, his closeness and experience with other fighters allows him to gain knowledge. 
(chapter 47) Through him, Joo Jaekyung gains access to a form of knowledge the institution does not control. The beast is no longer driven blindly forward; it is guided.
In this sense, ownership shifts. Not legally, not contractually, but functionally. MFC may hold the paperwork, but Kim Dan holds the leash — not to restrain the predator, but to direct its attention where it truly matters. That is why this support is threatening. Not because it domesticates Joo Jaekyung, but because it makes him lucid.
This exposes how significant the pattern in Jinx are. While the geometric design signals status, enclosure, and the institutional trap, the animal pattern points to instinct, territoriality, and latent violence. Together, they show the limits of MFC’s control. The champion may be placed inside a golden cage, but his nature has not been erased. It has merely been ignored by those who believe that prestige and containment are enough.
Floors as Spatial Evidence: Mapping the Hotel
The patterns do more than symbolize. They also locate.
By following changes in carpets, tiles (chapter 85), wall colors, corridor width, and interior layout, it becomes possible to reconstruct the hotel’s internal geography with considerable accuracy. 
(chapter 84) These visual cues distinguish floors, mark thresholds between zones, and separate different kinds of isolation. The hotel ceases to function as an abstract backdrop and instead reveals itself as a structured environment in which hierarchy is materially inscribed.
This becomes particularly clear when examining Kim Dan’s room. His corridor shares certain elements with Park Namwook’s room, for example, his door is opening outwards 
(chapter 85) (chapter 82) and he has no cupboard in the corridor of his room. However, if you look carefully, you will notice that doc Dan’s room has three different types of floor: in the corridor, (chapter 85) 
(chapter 84) 
(chapter 85) The corridor seems to have white linoleum covered a dark brown carpet, similar to the one in his bedroom. However, observe that the manager’s entrance has the same tiles than in the hallway. (chapter 82) Finally, the wooden or gray walls and the rich brown carpet 
(chapter 85) reminds us of the champion’s living room in the hotel. 
(chapter 82) This clearly exposes that doc Dan’s room is not a normal room. It exceeds that basic category. It is larger, brighter, and arranged for comfort. The interior layout is particularly revealing: the bathroom is located close to the bedroom (chapter 85), while the entrance to the room is set at a noticeable distance from both the bed and the couch. (chapter 85) This spatial separation creates a protected inner zone, shielding the sleeping and living areas from the corridor. Combined with the presence of a couch, a large window (chapter 84), and abundant light, the room reads as a space designed for rest and continuity rather than mere overnight use. While it is not a suite, it is unmistakably superior to the manager’s accommodation.
Park Namwook’s room, by contrast, is located at the end of a corridor , a position that at first glance might suggest privilege but here functions very differently. The hallway leading to it is narrower and visually compressed, framed by dark tiles both at the bottom and the top of the walls. The color palette is heavier, and the space feels closed in rather than elevated. The end-of-corridor placement does not open onto a decorated or transitional space; instead, it reinforces isolation and marginality. The fact that he was carrying toilet paper in his hand indicates that his bathroom is right next to the entrance of the room. Everything is pointing out that his room is much smaller and less comfortable, as the floor is the same than in the corridor. This means that he can hear noises coming from the hallway. There is no architectural generosity, no suggestion of comfort or expansion. Even before any narrative confrontation occurs, the architecture signals decline. The manager’s authority is no longer supported by space; it is spatially undermined.
Then there is the champion’s suite. Room 1704 occupies a categorically different position within the building. Situated on the top floor, it combines vertical elevation with spatial separation. Since the door is opening inwards, it indicates that the space in the corridor is larger than the physical therapist and the manager’s. Secondly, observe that the floor in front of his suite is different, a combination of marmor and white tiles. There’s a pattern. (chapter 85) (chapter 85) And now look at the bottom on the right, you can recognize the same floor in the corridor. Joo Jaekyung has a cupboard in his corridor. The corridor leading to it changes again in both flooring and framing, and the area outside the door is treated almost like a private antechamber, as there is an opened area with decorative elements rather than bare walls. (chapter 85) Inside, the suite unfolds across multiple rooms, 
(chapter 85) clearly separating living space from bedroom 
(chapter 82), and extending outward through more than one balcony. 
(chapter 82)
The suite’s scale and elevation construct Joo Jaekyung as both privileged and isolated. He is placed above the rest of the team not only symbolically, but physically. Crucially, the floors and layouts allow us to perceive this isolation long before the characters articulate it themselves. The architecture expresses hierarchy, separation, and solitude in advance of dialogue, making the champion’s position within the system visible before it is ever named.
Through these observations, I could determine the rising of doc Dan and downfall of the manager. Because of doc Dan, Park Namwook has been relegated to the average staff, he is no longer a close advisor of Joo Jaekyung. His room is situated far away from the emperor, which also explains why the former would often ask for the physical therapist’s advice. 
(chapter 82) And the moment I had this realization, architecture, once again, speaks first, my attention returned to the hotel in the States. 
(chapter 37)
Two Hotels, One Logic: The Abuse of the Suite
The comparison between the French and American hotels reveals a repeating structural injustice. To understand it, one must first recall where the champion’s room was located in the United States. In chapter 37, Joo Jaekyung is shown sleeping in the same hallway as Kim Dan and the other fighters. 
(chapter 37) This detail is crucial. It explains why he can hear their laughter and smell the food they are eating. 
(chapter 37) Architecturally, he was not isolated. Despite his status, he remained embedded within the collective space of the team.
At first glance, one might therefore conclude that no suite had been booked for him. That assumption would be wrong. In the United States, a suite had indeed been reserved for the champion. 
(chapter 37) Besides, Episode 40 confirms that Joo Jaekyung did occupy an imperial suite: the interior layout includes a door separating the bedroom from another room 
(chapter 40), a feature characteristic of a suite rather than a standard hotel room. The issue, therefore, is not the absence of a suite, but how that suite was positioned and managed.
In the American hotel, the imperial suite was located on the same floor and corridor as the fighters and staff. This spatial choice stripped the suite of its primary function: protection through distance. Anyone circulating in the hallway could approach the champion’s door without obstruction. Access was not controlled by elevation or separation, but normalized through proximity. This is why the suite’s title proves misleading. It signaled privilege, but did not enforce insulation. I would even say, the name of the room was a subterfuge. In truth, he is not really treated like an Emperor, rather as a special fighter..
This lack of isolation becomes particularly problematic when considering the later incident involving a drugged beverage. 
(chapter 37) Because the suite was embedded within a shared corridor, an intruder could approach the champion’s room without attracting attention. (chapter 37) The danger did not require exceptional access. It was enabled by the layout itself.
The situation is further aggravated by what the suite already contained. Alcohol was present in a room officially 
(chapter 37) intended for weight-cutting and post–weight-cut recovery. This detail exposes a managerial failure rather than a hotel failure. The environment was not curated around the champion’s physical needs. Discipline was demanded of his body, but not enforced in his space. Meanwhile, fighters and coaches purchased junk food behind the champion’s and Kim Dan’s back, reinforcing the gap between stated goals and actual practice.
When the incident was discovered, responsibility became easy to deflect precisely because the environment had been left porous. Blame could be shifted onto individuals, while the structural decision that enabled access remained unaddressed. (chapter 37) The hotel itself cannot be held fully responsible; the problem lies primarily with MFC’s room allocation and the manager’s acceptance of that configuration. Yet the American hotel reveals an additional layer of vulnerability that complicates the picture.
The rooms in the United States appear to lack basic security features. 
(chapter 37) There is no visible keycard system, and no clear indication of an interior lock. 
(chapter 37) This absence is striking, especially when contrasted with the Paris hotel 
(chapter 85), where doors are equipped with keycards and locks on both sides (chapter 82). While this could be attributed to an artistic omission, the consistency of the Paris depiction suggests otherwise. The difference feels deliberate.
This lack of security would explain several narrative details. It clarifies how Joo Jaekyung could barge into the room shared by Kim Dan, Potato, and Oh Daehyun without resistance. 
(chapter 37) Access was not negotiated; it was simply taken. The architecture allowed it. The space did not protect its occupants.
It also invites a reevaluation of the hotel’s status. Despite hosting a star athlete, the American hotel does not appear to be particularly upscale. Its corridors are shared, its rooms unsecured, and its boundaries easily crossed. This also casts new light on an earlier detail that initially seemed contradictory. Joo Jaekyung is described as occupying an imperial suite (chapter 37), and yet he can hear the fighters laughing, drinking, even smell what they are eating late into the night. 
(chapter 37) At first glance, this appears implausible. A suite, by definition, should insulate its occupant from such disturbances. His bedroom is not situated next to the corridor. (chapter 37) But once we recognize that the American hotel is not an upscale establishment, the contradiction dissolves. Thin walls, poorly insulated doors, and shared corridors would allow sound to travel easily. The problem is no longer proximity alone, but material insufficiency. The suite’s title promises prestige, but the building itself cannot sustain it.
This detail matters. The champion is not merely irritated by noise; he is physically prevented from resting, from isolating himself, from preparing properly. His authority is symbolically affirmed, yet materially undermined. He is expected to perform discipline in a space that does not protect him from others’ excess. (chapter 37) This stands in sharp contrast to the Paris hotel, whose layered security and spatial hierarchy signal both wealth and control. (chapter 85) Back then, Kim Dan was treated materially like the fighters, regardless of the manager’s verbal insistence that he was a senior figure. 
(chapter 7) Status was asserted rhetorically, but not enforced spatially, exactly with Joo Jaekyung.
Not only does the hotel in the States fail to protect the Emperor’s rest — it fails to support his training. Another telling omission confirms that the American hotel was never designed to host an elite athlete. There is no dedicated training space. No gym. No room adapted to a champion preparing for a return match. This absence explains several scenes that might otherwise appear excessive or out of character.
In the United States, Joo Jaekyung is forced to train outside the hotel 
(chapter 37), negotiating access with local coaches and nearly getting into a physical altercation before being allowed to use their facilities 
(chapter 37). Only after asserting himself does he gain permission to train. Even then, the gym he ultimately uses is unremarkable — functional, crowded, and indistinguishable from what any average fighter might access. There is nothing exceptional about it.
Paris exposes the contrast. There, Joo Jaekyung can train directly at the hotel. 
(chapter 82) The infrastructure finally aligns with the demands placed on his body. This shift is not a luxury; it is a correction. It reveals retroactively how deficient the American setup was — and how little institutional care surrounded the champion at the time.
This context reframes the mockery from Arnaud Gabriel in Paris. 
(chapter 82) The remark does not stem from arrogance alone; it is grounded in observation. The training space available to Joo Jaekyung at the hotel is not designed for an elite athlete, even less for MMA fighters. 
(chapter 82) It is a generic fitness room intended for ordinary guests. There are no heavy bags, no proper equipment, no environment suited to the demands of a reigning champion. 
(chapter 37) This is precisely why his training must be adapted, restrained, and partially improvised.
In this sense, Paris does not represent a full correction of the American situation. The champion receives a better room, greater isolation, and visible markers of prestige, but not an infrastructure tailored to his profession. He is accommodated as a celebrity, not prepared as an athlete. The hotel offers comfort, discretion, and image management — not performance support.
This distinction is crucial. In the United States, Joo Jaekyung was treated as neither: neither celebrity nor protected asset, merely another fighter exposed to noise, intrusion, and neglect. In Paris, he is finally elevated — but only halfway. The space now safeguards his image, not his craft. (chapter 82) The mockery from Arnaud Gabriel therefore strikes a nerve, because it exposes the gap between how the champion is presented and how he is actually supported.
What changes, then, is not the logic of neglect, but its form. In America, the failure was crude and structural. In France, it is refined and symbolic. The champion is displayed, isolated, and celebrated — yet still required to adapt himself to spaces that were never designed for someone like him. In other words, he is treated like a celebrity, but not as an athlete!!
This shift becomes visible in the body itself, through the exercises Joo Jaekyung performs. In the United States, his training relies heavily on brute force (chapter 37): heavy weights, aggressive repetitions, exercises that strain joints and demand endurance through pain. The body is treated as something to be pushed, exhausted, and dominated. In Paris, by contrast, his leg training changes. (chapter 82) The movement is more controlled, more fluid, and visibly gentler on the joints. The goal is no longer to overpower the body, but to preserve it.
This contrast is not incidental. It reflects a deeper transformation in the nature of his fighting practice. Through Joo Jaekyung, MMA itself begins to shift away from its earlier association with brutality and borderline criminality. The introduction of a dedicated physical therapist, the adjustment of training routines, and the emphasis on longevity over raw destruction all point in the same direction. Fighting is no longer framed as survival at any cost, but as a profession that requires care, planning, and restraint.
This also casts doubt on the manager’s claim that Joo Jaekyung had always been supported by the “best” specialists. 
(chapter 5) MMA is not baseball or soccer 
(chapter 54); it does not benefit from the same institutional prestige or resources. Earlier in his career, the champion was more likely trained to endure damage than to prevent it. What we see now is not the continuation of an elite system, but its gradual construction — one in which Kim Dan plays a central role. 
(chapter 81)
In this sense, the American hotel exposes a recurring contradiction: authority is proclaimed, but not supported by infrastructure. Protection is expected, but not provided. The environment mirrors the broader logic governing the team at that point—one in which discipline is demanded of individuals, while the system itself remains careless. Hence such an incident could take place. Here, they were not protecting their “Emperor”, 
(chapter 49), rather restraining him and as such exposing him to danger.
Seen this way, the incident is not merely the result of personal negligence or malice. It is the product of a space that fails to distinguish between ranks, fails to secure its occupants, and ultimately fails those it claims to serve. I would even add, it exposes the blind trust in MFC.
Paris marks a clear contrast. In France, Joo Jaekyung’s suite is no longer embedded within the team’s circulation space. It is situated at the top of the building, separated from the fighters and coaches, and placed at the end of a corridor. (chapter 85) This time, his room is not described as suite, but the number 1704 (chapter 85) reveals its true position. The hotel has maximum 9 floors, so the number 17 is a reference to a wing. Elevation produces isolation. Distance produces control. He is treated like a star, but not like an athlete.
The logic, however, remains the same. Space is still used as a managerial tool. What changes is the position of the actors within it. Park Namwook is relegated to a lesser floor, visually and architecturally diminished. (chapter 82) Kim Dan, unexpectedly, receives a room that is larger, brighter, and more comfortable than the manager’s. This redistribution of space signals a redistribution of importance within the team. This indicates that his status is not only superior to the fighters, but also to the other hyungs (coach Yosep and the manager Park Namwook).
To conclude, the floors tell the story before the characters do. In the States, the injustice is not shouted. It is built. The suite was intended for a very specific function: the weight-cutting session
(chapter 37) and the post–weight-cut recovery. (chapter 37) It was never designed for comfort, while in Paris the suite exists to deceive Joo Jaekyung and his team. It is there to make him think, he is receiving special treatment. That’s why in France, the logic persists, but the positions shift. Joo Jaekyung finally occupies the suite that matches his status. Park Namwook, relegated to a lesser floor, experiences a visual and narrative downfall. Kim Dan, unexpectedly, receives a room that is larger, brighter, and more comfortable than the manager’s. This reversal is not accidental. It marks a redistribution of importance within the team.
Doors, Access, and Delegated Authority
Not everything about access in Paris is restrictive. One detail complicates the picture in a productive way. How could the doctor barge in the athlete’s suite, if there is a lock? 
(chapter 82) Kim Dan may indeed possess a keycard to Joo Jaekyung’s suite. If so, this is not a minor convenience. It constitutes a symbolic transfer of access. The physical therapist is granted proximity not merely to the champion’s body, but to his private space. Hence the athlete is not caught by surprise, he doesn’t even mind this intrusion or interruption. (chapter 82)
This possibility helps explain several managerial behaviors. Park Namwook repeatedly seeks Kim Dan’s opinion 
(chapter 82) and support (chapter 82), even in situations that should fall under his own responsibility. When he becomes sick, he does not contact Joo Jaekyung directly. (Chapter 82) Instead, he uses Kim Dan as a messenger. This choice is not neutral. It allows the manager to avoid direct criticism from the champion while simultaneously delegating responsibility onto the physical therapist.
If Park Namwook knows that Kim Dan holds access to the suite, this delegation becomes logical. (chapter 85) Kim Dan is positioned as an intermediary — not officially in charge, but functionally indispensable. Should the protagonists fail to appear the next morning, the manager’s first instinct would not be to confront Joo Jaekyung, but to look for Kim Dan. Control is pursued indirectly. At the same time, when the manager announces the schedule for the next day 
(chapter 85), he expects everyone to wake up on time and appear at seven sharp. He doesn’t see it as his “task” to wake up the champion. Once again, he is delegating responsibility onto others. However, it is clear that he expects Joo Jaekyung to be awake early like he did before. So if the champion doesn’t appear on time, the manager’s decision should be to call doc Dan or visit his room. In his eyes, he is the one responsible for the champion!!
At the same time, access does not equal absence of boundaries. The existence of keycards and interior locks in the Paris hotel makes this clear. (chapter 82) Kim Dan’s ability to enter the suite in episode 82 does not imply unrestricted entry. It is situational. It is tolerated, perhaps even expected, but not automatic. (chapter 82) This is confirmed by contrast: on the night when Joo Jaekyung explicitly asks Kim Dan to come, Kim Dan waits outside. He knocks. He does not let himself in. The boundary holds.
This distinction is crucial. What matters is not who possesses a keycard, but who authorizes its use. In Paris, access is no longer governed by hierarchy or managerial convenience alone. It is regulated by consent. Joo Jaekyung decides when his space opens and when it remains closed.
Yet the system remains vulnerable. If Kim Dan does not answer, and if there is no Do Not Disturb sign, Park Namwook could still invoke institutional authority and ask hotel staff to open the doctor’s door. Let’s not forget that the night before, the doctor is not seen carrying his cellphone to the champion’s bedroom. Secondly, he had claimed to feel sick. (chapter 85) The couple’s absence and silence could generate panic. The potential for intrusion, in particular the doctor’s room, persists. Once again, conflict would not unfold through confrontation, but through space — through who is allowed to cross a threshold, and under what pretext.
The floors make this tension legible in advance. They do not erase boundaries; they reveal how fragile and contested those boundaries remain.
The Golden Cage and the End of the Emperor
Joo Jaekyung’s nickname, The Emperor, only makes sense as long as MFC supports him. An emperor without an empire is not powerful; he is isolated. The golden carpets, the luxury halls, and the elevated suite all contribute to this illusion of sovereignty. But they also define the boundaries of a cage. Hence they have planned his downfall, the hotel and its luxury (chapter 82) are there to deceive the main lead and his team.
The tragedy—and the irony—is that MFC forgets one thing: Joo Jaekyung is no longer alone in that cage.
Kim Dan is inside with him, therefore he is the only one wearing the jacket Joo Jaekyung. (chapter 85) And Kim Dan is the only person in this structure who is not part of the trap, 
(chapter 80) for his contract is limited not only to Joo Jaekyung, but also in time. He was never a fighter, hence he is not part of MFC at all contrary to the other hyungs.
The Unnamed Role — When Care Replaces Authority
This brings us to the question that runs quietly through the story: why can Joo Jaekyung not define Kim Dan’s role? 
(chapter 40)
It is tempting to answer: because he is a sex partner. But that explanation is insufficient. Kim Dan is also his physical therapist, officially responsible for his body. Over time, he becomes something more: the person who regulates stress, controls access and his food (chapter 82), manages recovery, mediates between the champion and the outside world, and quite literally holds the key. He even controls his image. 
(chapter 82) These are managerial functions.
But naming Kim Dan as a manager would expose the failure of Park Namwook and, by extension, MFC itself. It would mean admitting that institutional authority has been replaced by personal care. That is why the role remains unnamed. It exists in practice, but not in language. Thus expect a new version of this scene soon: (chapter 40) And if this comes true, then the athlete’s answer will be totally different: 
(chapter 40) Doc Dan is not one among others, but the BEST physical therapist. He is also a champion (chapter 86), for he helped him to recover and maintain his form in such a short time. He is the only one who can assist him to regain his title. The athlete will reveal doc Dan’s gift and special status to others.
The floors reveal this displacement long before the characters can. 😮
Conclusion — What the Floors Foretell
By reading the floors as markers of status, indicators of situation, and tools of spatial orientation, a coherent pattern emerges across both hotels. Elevation coincides with enclosure. Luxury disguises control and manipulation. And institutional power repeatedly misreads its own architecture.
The likely next move is already written into the building. (chapter 85) When the manager goes looking for control, he can look for Kim Dan due to the warning DND. And when he does, he will discover that the structure he relied on no longer answers to him.
The secrets behind the floors are not just secrets. They are warnings.
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(chapter 81) The plane soars not only above the Alps, but also above a vast river (probably the Rhône)— two landscapes that silently echo the dual composition of breath itself. Breath is made of air and water: oxygen and vapor, wind and moisture. 
(chapter 82) In that sense, the clouds surrounding the aircraft are not mere weather; they are the perfect union of the two elements that sustain life.
(chapter 82) That’s why, when Potato offers him a bottle of Evian, he doesn’t even look. He doesn’t need the water from the mountain and as such the world; he needs the water of the body — the intimacy, the shared moisture that reconnects him to life itself. What he truly longs for is Kim Dan’s saliva, the living trace of water transformed into affection, into care, into exchange. 
(chapter 81) He is longing for his lips and as such a kiss.
(chapter 15)
(chapter 82) Many attractions — the Ferris wheel, the fountain rides, the water park zones — combine air and water, height and spray, just like breath itself. And now, you understand why the champion got wounded with the spray 
(chapter 49) It corresponds to the negative version of the “breath”. 
(epilogue), because doc Dan wants to ensure that the drink or the ice cream is okay. 
(chapter 15) The arena that once fed on pain, blood, and hierarchy gives way to a landscape of shared laughter, circular motion, and renewal. Here, entertainment is not built upon the exhaustion of bodies but upon their liberation. The crowd no longer watches to see who will fall; they rise and descend together. 
(chapter 82) People are more focused on their own emotions and experiences. 
I placed the doctor’s birthday. And that’s how I remembered here the boy’s huge smile and joy. 
(chapter 11) And now, pay attention to the number of the next episode: 83! The two numbers combined together make 11! As you can see, the amusement park is the most natural setting for a smile and kiss. Joo Jaekyung could even speak about his first kiss, an intimate secret that even Kim Dan doesn’t know. Confessing it there would align his personal myth with the fairy-tale architecture around him. This would make doc Dan realize that he is special contrary to the green-haired ex-lover. 
(chapter 42). But there’s more to it. In episode 81, Doc Dan rejects the champion’s advance — he turns his head away
(chapter 81) letting the lips slip past him like water. Yet, in the very same scene, he allows a kiss on the neck, a place where breath, warmth, and pulse converge. 
(chapter 81) He never pushes him back. The doctor resists with the face — with speech, with identity — but not with the body. 
(chapter 81) Why? Because the lips are not mere flesh; for Doc Dan, they are the visible border between desire and love. Jinx-lovers will remember his quiet request in the locker room (chapter 15): he links the lips to the heart — and through it, to the notion of consent. 
(chapter 15) To kiss him there is to ask for entry not into his body, but into his feeling.
(chapter 81) The water envelops them both — fluid, intimate — yet the final element is still missing: agreement, the meeting of air and will. Until Jaekyung learns to ask, to replace taking with invitation, the kiss will remain suspended, like a breath held underwater, waiting to surface into love. And now, you comprehend why he couldn’t achieve his goal in the swimming pool. It was, as if he was trying to recreate the situation in season 1. In other words, I deduce that there will be a confession before a kiss happens!!
(chapter 17) and the one in front of the amusement park: 
(chapter 82) The two scenes mirror each other like opposite poles of Joo Jaekyung’s evolution. In both, he is dressed in black — a color that once signified anonymity and danger, but later becomes the mark of calm confidence.
(chapter 17) When he intervenes to save Kim Dan from the loan sharks, he is first mistaken for one of them — a predator among predators. The irony is sharp: the man who comes to rescue looks indistinguishable from those who harm. The fighters’ world has taught him that power and fame must be hidden; he was encouraged to hide, as if the fans would attack him. He chose anonymity, unaware that this would not only isolate him but also make him appear as a thug. And don’t forget how the manager called him initially: 
(chapter 75) He is a monster. It was, as if the manager wanted to hide the “wolf” from people out of fear that he might attack people randomly. But the problem is that by dressing like that, he was no different from Heo Manwook. Therefore his heroism passes unnoticed, interpreted as violence and intrusion. 
(chapter 18) Like Batman, he moves in secrecy, protecting without ever being thanked. The outfit explains why his good deed leaves no trace of gratitude — the savior looks like the aggressor.
(chapter 82) He still wears black, but the darkness no longer hides him. The cap now sits higher, revealing his eyes and mouth — the organs of emotion and speech. A necklace gleams at his throat, a quiet emblem of openness. He walks beside Kim Dan in daylight, not to fight but to share joy. The man who once lurked in alleys now stands beneath the sky of the amusement park, where black absorbs light rather than extinguishes it.
(chapter 17) A princeling! He was mocking him, because he knew that the fights were actually rigged. That’s why he called him fake. 
(chapter 17) This new connection reinforces my theory that the schemers are anticipating the Emperor’s demise. 
(chapter 65) so he is not standing on his own two feet. And remember that according to me, Shin Okja stands for shore. He is smiling as if everything is fine, but the reality is different. When Dan sits on her lap wearing the duck shirt, he seems safe, grounded, “held.” Yet the shore (the halmoni) isn’t truly stable — it’s brittle earth pretending to resist erosion. She gives him the illusion of safety, not the reality of it. The hydrangeas stand for temporality. The body contact replaces emotional transparency. What he learns in that moment is: “If I stay still and quiet, she’ll hold me.” Thus, his first emotional rule becomes immobility and silence. That is how the floating duck is born — not by moving freely in water, but by learning to suppress movement to preserve attachment.
(chapter 56) He doesn’t yet see the storm and suffering beneath.
(chapter 82) But in such a place, it is, as if time was stopped. Thanks to the many emotions and sensations, his body and heart will be revived. Through fun, the duck will change. As Kim Dan ascends from floating duck to swimmer and to a flying duck, he moves from hidden suffering to open breath. Thus the Ferris Wheel will have definitely an impact on him. Both arcs revolve around air and water — the two elements that make up breath and emotion. Don’t forget that the doctor embodies the clouds as well, while the athlete stands for steam.
(chapter 45)
(chapter 55) One might think that the causes for his throbbing head are his depression and insomnia. On the other hand, I am quite certain that many readers had a different explanation for his migraine. He is missing his lover, Kim Dan, as the color red symbolizes the headache and the physical therapist’s name is strongly intertwined with this pigment which was once again confirmed in episoe 56. 
(chapter 56) So it is true that his migraine are caused by the doctor’s absence. It was, as if the main lead was suffering from withdrawal symptoms. The fighter has a love addiction, but he is not aware of the existence of this “sweet poison”. But there’s more to it.
Thus I consider this image, where the champion is seen 
(chapter 43) eating a strawberry with cream as the announcement of the magical night between Kim Dan and his fated partner. The fruit with the cream represented a violation to his strict diet. 
(chapter 55) or the medicine against migraine. 
(chapter 54) However, in episode 55, we can observe a huge change in the champion. 
(chapter 55) The latter is finally admitting the inefficiency of the medicine. In other words, in this scene, he was giving up on them. This represents an important step on his way to enlightenment. For me, it signifies that he is stopping relying on pharmaceutical products. Let’s not forget that in the past, he rejected the PT and even neglected them. Why? It is because he trusted more sprays and other medicines than people. 
(chapter 49) Therefore the switch of the spray had to occur. He needed to question his prejudices and attitude. But let’s return our attention to the champion and his throbbing head. One detail in this panel caught my notice. 
(chapter 55). This means that she had not seen the mess in the master room before: 
(chapter 55) And now, pay attention to the number of the bottles in his room: 
(chapter 55) I count 12 bottles of wine exactly like in the last image from chapter 54. Thus I came to the following deductions:
(chapter 54) and the appearance of the staff in chapter 55. It indicates that Jinx-philes can witness time deceleration in season 2. From one month in one chapter, then a week in the next episode, finally we have a reference to a day: Monday. Thus I deduce that in episode 56, only 2 or 3 days elapsed. I have already announced that the couple should meet each other around 25th: 
(chapter 56), for the day Kim Dan wired his money to his “loved one” took place after 10th of the month: XX = two digits. 
(chapter 55)
(chapter 55) Consequently, I judge the cleaning lady as the positive version of Park Namwook. Though she uses social norms, she doesn’t use them against her employee. She didn’t condemn him, it is a mixture of teasing and reminder. At the same time, her intervention implies that she must have noticed changes in her boss after the arrival of Kim Dan in the flat and his departure. That’s the reason why I have the impression that this image is announcing another turning point in the champion’s life either: 
(chapter 55) He won’t drink like before. However, I don’t think that he will behave like in the past: reject any alcohol entirely.
(chapter 55), his migraine vanished. Though he is holding his head the next morning and hiding his gaze 
(chapter 55), the Webtoonist didn’t add any red or “throb” as an indication for a migraine. As you can see, his headache is strongly intertwined with repressing the physical therapist and as such locking away memories. However, there exists another cause. What had the doctor done in the past? 
(chapter 44) Yes, the main lead had patted his lover’s head, while the champion had his eyes close. In my opinion, his unconscious had registered this gesture and loved it. However, the champion had not seen it himself. He was drunk and had his eyes closed. This stroke on the head symbolizes appreciation, affection and recognition. 
(chapter 23) That’s how little kids are admired and loved. This stands in opposition to the abuser’s behavior: 
(chapter 54) parental criticism and absence of contact. And how did Choi Heesung express his “love” to Yoon Gu? 
(chapter special 2) The same way than Kim Dan with the patting! In other words, the champion is deep down longing for such a gesture, but he has not realized it yet. Nevertheless, I believe that he just needs a trigger.
(chapter 55) With his left opened eye!! The exact opposite from this picture: 
(chapter 55) This observation got confirmed in episode 56, though I couldn’t expose it before the release of the new chapter. 
(chapter 56) As long as the fighter thinks of his fated partner, he is not plagued with a throbbing head. This shows that it has something to do with repressing memories. However, his physical condition is still not improving: 
(chapter 56) He even looks worse than before: exhausted and malnourished. There is no one by his side taking care of him: his only interaction with his manager is through the phone. At no moment, the guy felt the need to pay a visit to his boss and champion. 
(chapter 56) Because I discovered the connection between memories and the physical therapist, it is important to examine the interaction between the main lead and the new uke.
(chapter 55) This signifies that in reality, the uke is the one benefiting more from this relationship, while the “Gucgi guy” is a placebo for Joo Jaekyung. He can not replace the true medicine: Dan’s love. But Joo Jaekyung chose to close an eye to the truth forgetting his “insight” from chapter 2: 
(chapter 2) However, back then, he had just stated it in order to get rid of the mint-goblin. He needed a justification for switching his partner. In other words, this was reflecting more the protagonist’s corrupted mind and heart. Therefore he is designed eyeless, the symbol for ignorance, lies and blindness. 
(chapter 55) And where did he have his migraine exactly? 
(chapter 55) It was on the right side and eye! It truly exposes that Joo Jaekyung was getting punished for his attitude. He is not allowed to bury and forget Kim Dan. The star’s open eyes in this episode symbolize denial, lack of self-awareness and as such the absence of insight. He is also punished for his lies in episode 2. His words might have reflected the truth, but his words didn’t expose a change of heart. He was taking advantage of this situation as well. So when the pain intensified pushing him to close his right eye, we should consider this image as a short moment of reflection and realization. In the restroom, he was forced to admit that only Kim Dan could kiss him. Is it a coincidence that just before Mingwa presented this image 
(chapter 55) Naturally no, she was mirroring the attitude of both figures: both were in denial!! Notice that though the star had no reaction in front of the “replacement”, the latter chose not to give up at all. This man was not expecting a rejection, in fact he was in total denial as well. He didn’t notice the star’s passivity and silence.
(chapter 55) He was just standing there and avoiding his gaze. 
(chapter 55) How can the MMA fighter reject him? This displays his huge confidence or arrogance. There’s no doubt that he will put the blame on Joo Jaekyung. At the same time, I believe that his blindness was also caused by his greed. 
(chapter 5) Therefore he was in a happy mood after that match. A simple gesture with a lot of power! He has been missing this hand or better said this gesture. This action was the main lead’s true motivation. 
(chapter 54) Don’t forget that Dominic Hill had expressed his admiration in a similar way, patting on the back: 
(chapter 40) No wonder why he felt so lost and empty after the last fight. 
(chapter 43) this was the coach’s hand. In other words, the athlete felt more close to the coach than to the manager. This would explain why he would listen to the coach and even entrust him with huge tasks like the charity event. Strangely, in season 1, we can observe how more or more he is distancing himself from the fighter. Probably related to his secret relationship with Kim Dan. According to my theory, the coach is aware of their relationship. They are more than just boss and employee. As you can see, I don’t think that the champion is right now just missing the doctor’s sweet lips. Deep down, he would like to be patted by his loved one, exactly like Potato. 
(chapter 23) 
(special episode 2) But this is what he received after the last match: 
(chapter 52) Nevertheless, Joo Jaekyung is lost as well, because he needs to face his old and fake belief: he is jinxed. But in order to remove this persistent superstition, it is important to study the origins of the athlete’s sexuality. How can I do this?
(chapter 2) The champion’s reaction is quite telling. He is not easily swayed. But we have another bigger evidence that his intercourses were replacement for “fights”. In The States, the fighter asked Kim Dan to join him at 11:00. 
(chapter 38) He needed to prepare himself mentally, to visualize how he would screw his opponent Dominic Hill. He was just taking the expression “fuck/screw” too literally. The latter idiom has the following synonyms: to cheat, oppress, bleed, coerce, wrest and to tighten. Just before the doctor came to his door, what was the athlete doing? He was watching a video from his challenger: 
(chapter 38) Therefore it is not surprising that he rejected Kim Dan’s request first. 
(chapter 39) He didn’t feel like it, because he was not aroused at all. Imagine that he needed two hours for that erection, a sign that during that night, Kim Dan was in reality a replacement for the American fighter. 
(chapter 39) Even when the doctor rubbed his hand against his sex, he had no reaction. 
(chapter 38) In fact, he needed a fellatio to get an erection, and he only started getting excited, when he saw the doctor’s gaze. That’s the reason why he remembered this image under the shower: 
(chapter 55) However, the more time the champion spent time with his physical therapist, the more he came to violate his own rules and principles: It started with their first meeting, when he crossed the line by mixing private and professional life together: 
(chapter 6), Sex was no longer linked to matches, but to his own desires. To conclude, for the first time, the fighter connected sex to pleasure and desires and not “work and fighting”. Because of the deal and Joo Jaekyung’s strange behavior (sex shower scene, …) the PT had the impression that his boss was a man obsessed with sex.
(chapter 53) The latter didn’t feel the need to have more sex with Kim Dan, he let his partner leave the place. Why? This contrasts so much to their First Wedding Night: 
(chapter 4) 
(chapter 53) Pay attention to the behavior from the fighter during their last night together. He is looking away, he is not paying attention to his fated companion. His mind was elsewhere, focused on Baek Junmin! In my opinion, during that night, the champion had been able to differentiate between the physical therapist and his opponent. Fighting was more important than sex and as such his sex partner. To conclude, the physical therapist had been able to win Joo Jaekyung’s belief and heart. He was no longer a replacement at all. He had become a person close the fighter.
(chapter 49) he wanted to screw Baek Junmin for real. In this image, the athlete oozes confidence and strength. This means that he was no longer dependent on the good fuck before the match. 
(chapter 53) However, the main lead never realized this huge change, he kept his old belief as a tradition out of habit. This explicates why the fighter tried to replace with a new uke 
(chapter 55), but here the sex was longer connected to a match, rather to fun. Finally, observe how the champion is now blaming his PT for his ruined match: 
(chapter 56). I don’t think, he was referring to the spray incident, rather to their night before the match. The doctor had not behaved like a real opponent, he had admitted his “defeat” quite easily. He had left the ring before procuring him a good fuck. He was blaming his partner for violating his rule: 
(chapter 2) But here is the thing. Kim Dan had just accepted the deal because of his grandmother. Secondly, he learned an important lesson during that magical night: consent! 
(chapter 44) Sex is a synonym for love and as such it is about giving pleasure and affection to his partner. It is a two-way street. And this is something that the champion has to admit and accept. Thus I deduce that the fighter still has a long way to go before dropping all his fake principles. Like mentioned before, he needs to ponder on the following question: what matters to him the most? His championship or his happiness? Or what is sex to him? Why does he think that he is jinxed? He needs to face his own painful past and remember the face of his tormentor.
(chapter 49) Baek Junmin and the abusive parent. 
(chapter 54) But the masturbation had taken place before. So who did he have in mind, when he was jerking off? I might shock my avid readers, but I would say: Baek Junmin. 
(chapter 54) However, this gesture had the opposite signification: rage, resent… but also sweet revenge! He must have recalled the Shotgun’s face. 
(chapter 52) There’s no doubt that thanks to the doctor, the champion will learn that he can get “justice” and satisfaction through other means. He can defeat the ghosts from the past, not just thanks to his fists and hard work, but also thanks to his surroundings and knowledge. Lawsuit and media!
(chapter 1) The physical therapist is not only his reward and price, but also his “second shoulder” and as such his pillar. The new PT won’t be able to replace him. Joo Jaekyung is not just a champion, but also a team: Kim Dan as his PT and his lover. As for Kim Dan, the celebrity is his “energy drink”, his source of comfort and joy. He is also his home, for he is the first one who invited him to stay with him! Yes, the grandmother didn’t invite her grandson to live with her, he was just dumped at her place. And because the celebrity is like a home and family, it explicates why the doctor is once again “living like a ghost”. 
(chapter 56) He feels lonely, but contrary to his fated partner, he is not truly looking for replacement. He might use work to divert his mind, yet he is not erasing Joo Jaekyung from his memory due to his promise: he needs to repay him. So his MO is slightly different. He is just using work and his halmoni to survive. Yes, he is also suffering from depression. In other words, when both main leads will meet each other again, they should have reached the bottom so that they can see each other’s misery and both are willing to listen to each other.
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 