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 Sweetest Downfall Ever and Hot 🔥Sparks ⚡, Feverish 🌡️Reality (part 1)
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After the Spark: What Changes Once the Circuit Is Closed?
When episode 86 ends 
(chapter 86), it does not close the night through narrative resolution. There is no statement, no promise, no verbal seal. And yet, for many Jinx-philes, the final panel refuses to let the scene dissolve. What remains is not heat, not tension, not even tenderness — but circulation.
What caught my attention, on rereading the episode with some distance, is precisely this ending. In the final embrace and kiss, bodies are not merely touching; they are aligned. Kim Dan is neither collapsed nor clinging. Joo Jaekyung is neither looming nor enclosing. Their torsos meet without compression, their heads incline toward each other, and the kiss does not interrupt movement — it completes it. The image does not suggest release, but continuity. Not dispersal, but return. In other words, the final embrace functions as a closed electric circuit, while the kiss operates as the activating spark — not a release, but the moment the current begins to flow.
This detail matters because it reframes the entire night. Earlier nights in Jinx burned intensely and then vanished. This one does not. Heat exhausts itself. Electricity does not. It remains as potential — stored, latent, waiting to be activated. When readers feel that “something has shifted,” they are not sensing emotional climax, but a closed circuit. The night ends, yet nothing needs to be said, because something has already been set.
Under this new light, my perception of relationships in Jinx changed. What had long been read through the language of excess — desire, domination, sacrifice, endurance — began to appear instead through the logic of current: circulation, interruption 
(chapter 21), overload 
(chapter 33), short circuit 
(chapter 51), 
(chapter 53) reset. And once that lens is adopted, it becomes impossible to limit the consequences of episode 86 to the couple alone. Because a closed circuit does not only affect those directly connected to it. It alters the surrounding system.
In the first part of Hot Sparks, Feverish Reality, the focus lay on how this night functions in itself: how electricity replaces fire, how illusion gives way to continuity, how silence becomes embodied communication. That analysis allowed us to rethink the nature of the moment. But once the circuit is closed, another question inevitably arises — quieter, but far more consequential: What changes once the night is over?
If the Paris night is not a dream, not a relapse, and not a miracle, then it must be understood as a reconfiguration of conditions. Memory begins to behave differently. Surprise no longer carries the same meaning. The past can no longer be invoked automatically as justification. And responsibility — long deferred — becomes unavoidable.
This second part of the essay therefore turns toward repercussions. To approach them, the analysis will move through four interlinked angles. First, it will examine surprise, returning to the sudden kiss in episode 86. By placing this gesture alongside earlier moments where surprise meant threat or emotional risk, the essay will show how the same structure acquires a different meaning once agency is restored — and why this matters. Second, it will address recognition without erasure, focusing on the line 
(chapter 86). This section will explore how acknowledging change without denying past harm opens a new ethical position — one that prevents memory from being weaponized, while still preserving responsibility. Third, the analysis will turn to conversion, revisiting earlier nights marked by failure, asymmetry, and isolation. Rather than cancelling them, episode 86 absorbs and transforms them. This is where forgiveness, reflection, and the first true encounter with consequence quietly enter the narrative. Finally, a new section will widen the lens further by examining shared experience and memory 
(chapter 53), particularly through Kim Dan’s relationship with his grandmother. Here, the focus will not be accusation, but contrast: between memories carried alone and memories held together; between cycles of repetition and moments of presence; between a worldview structured around endurance and one shaped by circulation. The Paris night does not only affect how Kim Dan sees Joo Jaekyung (chapter 86) — it changes how he may begin to situate himself within inherited bonds and unspoken expectations.
The Paris night did not resolve the story. It changed the system in which the story must now continue. And like electricity itself, its importance will only become fully visible when something — or someone — can no longer function as before.
Surprise Reversed: From Threat to Agency
To understand why the kiss in episode 86 
(chapter 86) carries such weight, we must return to the origin of kissing itself in Jinx. Because surprise, in this story, is not an abstract theme. It has a history. And that history begins with a body being caught off guard.
The first time Kim Dan is kissed by Joo Jaekyung, it is sudden. 
(chapter 14) There is no warning, no verbal cue, no time to prepare. The kiss arrives as interruption. It is not negotiated; it is imposed. Hence the author focused on the champion’s hand just before the smooch. 
This moment matters far more than it initially appears, because it establishes the template through which Kim Dan first encounters intimacy. 
(chapter 15) Affection does not emerge gradually. It breaks in.
Kim Dan reacts accordingly. Shortly afterward, he articulates a need that is easy to overlook but fundamentally revealing: he asks Joo Jaekyung to tell him before kissing him. 
(chapter 15) He needs preparation. He needs time to brace himself emotionally. This request reveals two aspects. First, he connects a kiss with love. On the other hand, the request is not really about romance; it is rather about survival. Surprise, for Kim Dan, has already been coded as something that overwhelms the body before the mind can intervene.
And yet, what follows is one of the most striking contradictions in the narrative. Every time Kim Dan initiates a kiss himself 
(chapter 39), he violates his own request.
His kisses arrive suddenly. 
(chapter 39) They are unannounced, often landing on unusual places (cheek or ear) (chapter 39) 
(chapter 44). They often take place under asymmetrical conditions — when one of them is intoxicated, confused, or emotionally exposed. Sometimes they occur without full consent, sometimes without clarity. In chapters 39 and 44, kisses surface precisely when language fails or consciousness fractures. It is as if Kim Dan has internalized a rule he never chose: a kiss must be sudden. Observe how the champion replies to the doctor’s smile and laugh: he kissed him, as if he was jealous of his happiness. 
(chapter 44) That’s how I came to realize that the kiss in the Manhwa is strongly intertwined with “surprise”. This is the missing link.
Kim Dan does not merely endure surprise; he learns it. Because intimacy entered his life through interruption 
(chapter 2), he comes to reproduce interruption as intimacy. He knows that surprise destabilizes him — that is why he asked for warning — but he has no other model. What overwhelms him also becomes what he reaches for. Surprise is both threat and language.
This paradox explains much of Season 1. Surprise is repeatedly associated with danger 
(chapter 3): the sudden call from the athlete, 
(chapter 1), the offer of sex in exchange for money (chapter 3), the contract that turns availability into obligation 
(chapter 6), the switched spray 
(chapter 49), the sudden changes in rules. These moments strip Kim Dan of anticipation and agency. His body reacts before his will can engage. Surprise equals exposure.
And yet — this is where the narrative becomes uncomfortable — these same surprises also pull him out of ghosthood.
Before Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan lives in a state defined by repetition and duty. 
(chapter 1) His life is governed by “always”: always working, always returning, always responsible. He lives for his grandmother. Nothing unexpected is allowed to happen, because nothing unexpected can be afforded. This is safety through stasis. Presence without experience.
But this does not mean that surprise was absent from his past. On the contrary, when unpredictability did enter Kim Dan’s life earlier, it came in its most destructive form: through the loan shark, Heo Manwook and his minions. His appearances were sudden, intrusive, violent. 
(chapter 5) 
(chapter 1) They shattered routine rather than enriching it. Surprise, in that context, did not open possibility; it threatened survival. It meant debt, coercion, fear. And precisely because of that, it could not be integrated into memory as experience — only repressed as trauma.
This distinction matters. When Kim Dan’s grandmother is hospitalized and removed from the house, the loan shark also disappears from daily life. His violence becomes something that can be pushed aside, denied, or avoided 
(chapter 1), if he doesn’t return home. Surprise, in its earlier form, is excised from the household. What remains is a world of repetition and endurance — safer, but lifeless.
Seen from this angle, Joo Jaekyung does not introduce unpredictability into Kim Dan’s life from nothing. He replaces it. 
(chapter 2) but in a fundamentally different form.
The loan shark embodies surprise without negotiation. 
(chapter 11)
(chapter 11) His appearances are sudden, his demands non-discussable, his violence immediate. He does not ask; he enforces. Surprise, under his rule, eliminates speech. It leaves no space for argument, no room for clarification, no possibility of consent. One endures, or one is punished.
Joo Jaekyung, by contrast, introduces unpredictability through contracts and negotiation. 
(chapter 6) Even when power is asymmetrical, even when the terms are coercive, speech is required. Conditions are stated. Rules are articulated. Kim Dan is forced to listen, to answer, to argue, to object. He must speak.
This difference is decisive. Surprise no longer arrives solely as terror; it arrives as confrontation. Kim Dan is not merely acted upon — he is compelled into dialogue. The body is still exposed, but language re-enters the scene. Where the loan shark silenced, the athlete imposes discussion.
This is why Joo Jaekyung can occupy the same structural position as the loan shark — and yet not replicate him. Both disrupt repetition. Both break the closed circuit of endurance. But only one does so in a way that keeps Kim Dan within the realm of human interaction. Even coercive negotiation presupposes a subject who can respond.
This also explains the later confrontation in the house. 
(chapter 17) The two figures cannot coexist because they represent mutually exclusive regimes of surprise: one that annihilates speech, and one that forces it into being. In other words, only one allows experience to be lived rather than survived.
Surprise enters Kim Dan’s life violently, but it does not remain mere rupture. (chapter 2) It functions as negative charge — an abrupt influx of energy into a system that had been closed for too long. Fear, anger, desire, attachment appear not as orderly developments, but as shocks. These experiences are unstable, often painful, sometimes destructive 
(chapter 51) — yet they are unmistakably his. They mark the moment when something begins to circulate. (chapter 51)
This distinction is crucial. Before Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan’s life operated in a static loop, governed by repetition, sacrifice, and gratitude. Energy was expended, but never transformed. Surprise, in its first incarnation, is therefore pure threat: uncontained, overwhelming, incapable of integration. It breaks the system without yet allowing current to flow.
What changes with Joo Jaekyung is not the presence of danger, but its conductivity. Surprise becomes ambivalent — still risky, still destabilizing — but now capable of generating movement and as such meditation. Negative charge no longer annihilates the circuit; it begins to activate it. 
(chapter 27) Experiences accumulate instead of disappearing. They demand response, speech, negotiation. Life no longer consists in enduring impact, but in processing it.
This is why these experiences cannot be shared with Kim Dan’s grandmother. Her moral economy is built on infantilization 
(chapter 65) and as such neutralization: suffering must be absorbed, pain must be justified, disruption must be folded back into endurance. There is no place for charge there — only for dissipation. What Kim Dan lives through with Joo Jaekyung follows a different logic altogether: not sacrifice, but circulation; not repetition, but conversion.
Surprise thus becomes the hinge not between danger and safety, but between static survival (–) and relational movement (+). And once that conversion begins, the past can no longer be returned unchanged — nor can it be shared without transformation.
This is why Kim Dan falls in love 
(chapter 41) not despite surprise, but through it. Not because dominance is romanticized, but because surprise is the first force that treats him as someone to whom things can happen. And don’t forget that for him, a kiss symbolizes affection. Even negative experiences generate subjectivity. They prove that he exists beyond function.
Seen through this lens, Kim Dan’s habit of surprising Joo Jaekyung with kisses (chapter 39) — on the ear or the cheek — is no longer random or contradictory. It is learned behavior. He has absorbed surprise as a mode of relation. What was once done to him becomes something he does, imperfectly and often prematurely. These kisses are not about dominance. They do not corner or silence. They test connection. They ask, without words: Are you still here?
But until episode 86, this structure remains unresolved. Surprise exists, but it is never fully safe. 
(chapter 85) Kim Dan either endures it or reproduces it under unstable conditions. Agency is partial. Meaning collapses afterward.
This is what makes the doctor’s kiss in Paris categorically different. (chapter 86)
Formally, it is still sudden. Kim Dan does not announce it. He does not negotiate it verbally. But structurally, everything has changed. For the first time, surprise is not imposed on him — and it is not enacted from confusion or imbalance. It is chosen. Kim Dan is clear-minded enough to recognize both his desire and his uncertainty. He is not dissociating. He is not reacting. He is deciding to remain present despite risk. And the response confirms the shift.
Joo Jaekyung does not neutralize the kiss with passivity 
(chapter 39), irony 
(chapter 41) or rejection 
(chapter 55). He does not retreat into his habitual “it’s nothing” or “never mind.” He does not reinterpret the gesture as convenience or reflex. 
(chapter 86) He kisses back while looking tenderly at his partner. He holds Kim Dan’s head gently. He can only see such a gesture as a positive answer to his request: acceptance and even desire. Surprise is not punished. It is received.
This is the moment where the meaning of surprise reverses. Surprise no longer equals threat. Surprise becomes agency. And that’s how I could discover a link between the kiss and the doctor’s birthday present, the key chain.
(Chapter 45) This time, the athlete not only accepts the present (the kiss), but but also expresses “gratitude” by kissing back actively. (Chapter 86) This means that the athlete is recognizing the existence of feelings.
The kiss does not erase the past. (Chapter 86) It does not retroactively justify earlier violations. But it establishes a new condition: surprise can now occur without annihilation. Intimacy can arrive without silencing reflection. Experience no longer collapses into shame or disappearance. IT symbolizes a positive and enjoyable moment.
This is why the kiss matters more than any spoken line in the episode. It is not simply romantic. It is structural evidence that the logic governing their interactions has changed. Surprise now operates within a closed circuit of consent and presence.
Kim Dan is no longer a ghost enduring interruptions. He is a subject capable of initiating them. He has learned surprise — and now, for the first time, he reclaims it. Under this new condition, the question is no longer whether surprise will hurt. It is whether life can proceed without it. And once that question is raised, the story cannot return to repetition or silence.
Recognition Without Erasure: When Memory Changes Function
What struck me next was how subtly episode 86 reorganizes the role of the past. Once surprise ceases to function purely as threat and begins to circulate, memory itself starts behaving differently. Electricity does not only move bodies; it redistributes charge. And it is precisely at this level — the level of memory and recognition — that something decisive occurs.
The line is brief, almost casual: (chapter 86) And yet it performs an extraordinary operation. Kim Dan does not deny the past. He does not soften it. He does not excuse it. Instead, he repositions it. For the first time, the past is no longer invoked as an absolute reference point, but as a differentiated state — one phase among others. Such a confession contradicts the grandmother’s philosophy: ALWAYS
(chapter 65) In her eyes, she has never changed, just like her grandson. (chapter 65) If there were changes, they were associated with trouble and worries.
This distinction is crucial, because in Jinx, the past has long functioned like a blunt instrument. It has been used to fix identities 
(chapter 52), justify behavior 
(chapter 57), and foreclose change. The champion’s violence is explained through reputation. 
(chapter 1) Kim Dan’s endurance is explained through obedience and debt. The grandmother’s authority is explained through sacrifice. In every case, the same logic applies: this is how it has always been; therefore this is how it must remain.
That logic is static. Electrically speaking, it is a circuit without polarity — no – and +, no tension, no movement. The past becomes a dead weight, not a source of information. It does not inform the present; it dominates it.
What episode 86 introduces is not forgiveness in the sentimental sense, but recognition without erasure. (chapter 86) Recognition means the charge of the past remains. Erasure would mean grounding it, neutralizing it, pretending it never existed. Kim Dan does neither. He keeps the – while allowing the + to emerge.
A World Without Polarity: When the Past Becomes a Weapon
This is where the electrical metaphor becomes indispensable. In a functioning circuit, negative and positive do not cancel each other out. They coexist. They create potential difference. And it is that difference — not harmony — that allows current to flow. (chapter 86) In the final panels, Kim Dan does not embrace an idealized version of the champion, nor a redeemed figure cleansed of history. He embraces Joo Jaekyung as he is now, with the knowledge of who he was before. This distinction matters. Acceptance here is not absolution. It is contact without denial.
Electric current does not pass between identical charges. It requires tension. Polarity. Resistance. The − and the + must remain distinct, or nothing moves. In this sense, Kim Dan’s embrace is not a gesture of harmony but of recognition. He acknowledges the champion’s flaws and mistakes — not to excuse them, but to stop pretending they never existed or to stop pretending to be better. What he accepts is not the past itself, but the reality that the past does not exhaust the present. That’s why he is able to stop ruminating and to follow his heart.
Furthermore when Kim Dan recognizes that “the old him” (chapter 86) existed, he does not collapse the timeline. He does not say: he was never that person. Nor does he say: he is forever that person. Instead, he introduces temporal polarity. Then and now. Before and after. – and +.
This move has immediate consequences. First, it disarms the past as a weapon. 
(chapter 65) If the past is absolute, it can be endlessly invoked to invalidate the present. We have a perfect example on the beach. (chapter 65) Kim Dan is here compared to the past. (chapter 65) When Shin Okja speaks of Kim Dan as a heavy smoker, she is not recounting a neutral habit. She is anchoring him to a past version of himself — one defined through worry, decline, and deviation from the “good boy” image.
What follows is telling. She does not ask why he smoked. She does not ask what changed. She does not ask how he lived. The only question that matters to her is: “Does he still smoke?”
(chapter 65)
The present is interrogated exclusively through the past. In this logic, the past functions as a fixed reference point. If the habit persists, the present confirms her narrative. If it does not, the absence is not read as growth but as an anomaly — something provisional, something that could always return. This is not concern. It is classification.
Shin Okja does not relate to Kim Dan as someone moving through phases, but as someone who must remain legible within a stable moral category. Change is not interpreted as development, but as risk. When Shin Okja repeatedly frames Kim Dan’s smoking and drinking as failures (chapter 65), she is not simply expressing concern about health. She is doing something more consequential: she is disqualifying the legitimacy of his decisions. In her discourse, Kim Dan’s actions are never treated as choices made under pressure, pain, or circumstance. 
(chapter 65) They are evaluated exclusively through a moral lens. Smoking and drinking are not responses; they are flaws. And because they are framed as flaws, they retroactively define his character rather than his situation. This is where agency collapses.
Care and Choice
If every decision Kim Dan makes is already interpreted as “bad,” then decision-making itself becomes suspect. Choice is no longer a neutral capacity; it is something he is assumed to misuse. In other words, he is not someone who chooses poorly — he is someone who should not be choosing at all. Under this new light, my avid readers can grasp why the grandmother approached the champion and asked for this favor: 
(chapter 65) Her behavior does not contradict her claim that she wants Kim Dan to “live his own life.” 
(chapter 65) It reveals how she understands such a life should be arranged. She sees herself as superior, as if she had never done any mistake, as if she had lived as a saint.
If she had truly accepted Kim Dan as a subject capable of self-direction, she would have spoken to him directly. Conversation presupposes agency; it allows disagreement, hesitation, and refusal. Instead, she chose a different route: influencing his fate behind his back. This move preserves her moral position while bypassing the risk of confrontation. It allows her to believe she is acting in his interest without ever having to acknowledge his will. That’s why she is entrusting her grandson to the athlete. 
(chapter 78)
In other words, she does not imagine Kim Dan living freely through his own choices, but being placed into a better configuration by others — preferably by someone stronger, more decisive, and more visible than himself. The request to the champion thus follows the same logic that governs her judgment of Kim Dan’s habits: she does not trust him to choose, only to comply.
And this is precisely why her worldview stands in quiet opposition to what unfolds in episode 86. The physical therapist’s desires are not only acknowledged, but also respected. 
(chapter 86) Once again, the “hamster” is given the opportunity not only to decide, but also to follow his heart. Where the Paris night allows difference to coexist with memory, Shin Okja’s framework collapses difference back into judgment. Where electricity requires polarity, her logic insists on sameness. Under this new light, it becomes comprehensible how doc Dan came to neglect himself. Self-care is inseparable from choice — from the belief that one’s decisions can meaningfully alter the present. If change is denied, care loses its purpose. Attending to oneself becomes optional, even suspect, because it implies a future different from the one already prescribed.
Recognition without erasure breaks that pattern. It allows Kim Dan to say, implicitly: what happened matters — but it does not get to decide everything.
Second, this recognition introduces responsibility where there was previously only fatalism. If change is possible, then it can be acknowledged. And if it can be acknowledged, it can be responded to. The past no longer excuses inaction. It no longer absolves neglect. It becomes a reference, not a refuge.
Two Versions, One Person: Temporal Polarity and Ethical Clarity
By acknowledging that there is an “old him” (chapter 86) and a present one, Kim Dan implicitly accepts that change has causes. And this is where his position shifts in a way that is easy to miss. If Joo Jaekyung has changed, then Kim Dan is not obligated to assume that he is the reason. He does not interpret the change as something he must earn or preserve through obedience.
Instead, a question becomes possible: what happened in between? And this question matters, because Kim Dan does not know. He does not know about the incident at the health center. He does not know about the slap at the hospital (chapter 52). He does not know that no one stood by the champion afterward — not even Potato.
By recognizing two versions of Joo Jaekyung, Kim Dan opens a space for inquiry rather than self-accusation. The change no longer needs to be attributed to his own sacrifice. It can be understood as something that also happened to the champion. This is not naivety. It is ethical clarity. Consequently, I perceive the night in Paris as the end of doc Dan’s low self-esteem and shame.
It also means that if anyone were to invoke the champion’s past against him — a manager, a coach (chapter 57), the system — Kim Dan can now side with him without denying what came before. The past stops being a weapon. It becomes context. This move has immediate consequences.
This shift is subtle, but it radiates outward.
Until now, Kim Dan has often carried memory alone. He remembers nights that others forget. He remembers moments that were dismissed. This asymmetry has turned memory into burden. 
(chapter 44) The one who remembers bears the – alone, while the other continues forward unmarked. That imbalance is corrosive. It distorts perception. It turns even good memories sour.
Episode 86 begins to redistribute that charge. Not by forcing confession, but by establishing shared presence. Once current circulates between two points, no single node carries the full load. Recognition does not mean recounting every wound; it means no longer isolating the wound in silence.
This is why the line about “the old him” matters more than it appears. It is not merely observational. It is infrastructural. It signals that memory is no longer trapped in a single body.
And this logic does not stop with the champion. It extends, inevitably, to Kim Dan’s relationship with his grandmother, like mentioned above.
Her worldview has long been organized around moral continuity. She remembers suffering 
(chapter 65), but she remembers it in a way that flattens time. Pain becomes proof of virtue. Sacrifice becomes identity. 
(chapter 65) Change is allowed only insofar as it returns to the same point. Electrically speaking, her system is grounded — all charge dissipates into endurance. There is no polarity, only repetition.
This is why the past, in her discourse, often appears as reproach. Not necessarily spoken harshly, but structurally unavoidable. You used to drink. You used to smoke. You used to be helpless. The past is not cited to understand, but to fix position. It anchors Kim Dan to a role: the one who must be protected, managed, or sent away “for his own good.”
Recognition without erasure offers Kim Dan a way out of this bind. If the past is no longer absolute, then it can be questioned. Not denied — questioned. The statement “you don’t know me and my life” becomes thinkable. Not as rebellion, but as differentiation. Kim Dan can hold the memory of his past while refusing to let it define his present. He can acknowledge the grandmother’s suffering without allowing it to dictate his future.
This is where forgiveness enters the narrative — quietly, without ceremony. (chapter 86) Forgiveness here is not reconciliation. It is not forgetting. It is not moral absolution. It is the decision not to collapse polarity. To allow – and + to coexist without forcing resolution. Forgiveness becomes a form of electrical insulation: it prevents overload, not by cutting the circuit, but by stabilizing it.
Seen this way, forgiveness is not weakness. It is structural maturity. And it has consequences. For Kim Dan, it means the past no longer monopolizes his self-understanding. He is not bound to prove gratitude through self-erasure. He can recognize care without submitting to control. He can accept gifts and help without dissolving into debt.
From Spark to Current: Why the Jinx Loses Its Power
For Joo Jaekyung, it means the jinx can no longer function as fatal explanation. 
(chapter 65) Even though the word jinx is never spoken during the Paris night, its logic quietly collapses there. (chapter 86)
Until now, sex operated as discharge. 
(chapter 75) In chapter 75, it is explicitly framed as a way to “clear the head”: an act designed to release pressure and return the system to zero. Partners were interchangeable. Feelings were excluded. Electricity existed only as a spark — brief, violent, and self-extinguishing. Energy was expelled, not circulated. That is the true mechanics of the jinx: power without continuity, intensity without consequence.
Paris introduces a different configuration. Sex is no longer oriented toward erasure or reset. It is no longer about escaping thought or silencing memory. Instead, it becomes a mode of presence.
(chapter 85) Desires matter, not the match the next morning. Besides, the identity of the partner matters — not just romantically, but also structurally. Current requires two poles. It requires response. It cannot flow through an object, only between 2 subjects.
This is why the jinx does not need to be confronted explicitly to be undone. A system built on discharge cannot survive circulation. Once energy is no longer expelled but sustained, once tension is held rather than neutralized, fatalism loses its grip. The spark does not burn out; it becomes current.
And with current comes consequence. Sex no longer clears the mind; it sharpens awareness. It no longer abolishes the future; it implies one. What happens in Paris does not redeem the past — it renders repetition impossible. Reflection becomes unavoidable, not because someone demands it, but because the system no longer resets cleanly.
The jinx dissolves not through force, but through continuity. Recognition without erasure thus prepares the ground for the final transformation: conversion. Thus the story can move forward.
– and – = + : Conversion and the End of Ghosthood
Two nights once marked by failure — chapter 39 
(chapter 39) and chapter 44 (chapter 44) — converge in episode 86. This convergence is not coincidental, nor is it nostalgic. It is a conversion.
Both earlier nights shared the same fatal structure: only one person remembered. In chapter 39, Kim Dan’s confession existed without continuity; his body spoke, but his memory did not follow. In chapter 44, the reverse occurred: Kim Dan remembered everything, while Joo Jaekyung attempted to forget. In both cases, memory became asymmetrical. One carried meaning; the other escaped it. And meaning, when carried alone, curdles. What might have been tenderness transformed into obsession, shame, or bitterness. Memory became burden.
Episode 86 breaks this curse through a gesture that is deceptively simple: both remember. (chapter 86) Both made surprising experiences: dry orgasm and a gentle and caring sex partner.
This is why simultaneity matters so profoundly. Sparks appear on both bodies. Confusion is mutual. Questions circulate rather than collapse inward. Neither consciousness outruns the other. Time, which had previously fractured under intoxication, coercion, or denial, resumes its flow. Not because the past is resolved, but because it is finally shared. Shared experience.
Here, memory begins to function differently — no longer as fixation or haunting, but as integration.
This shift allows us to recognize a much older pattern in Kim Dan’s inner life. His relationship to memory has always been selective, but not arbitrarily so. When it comes to his grandmother, Kim Dan remembers each interaction with his grandmother in a positive light: the warmth 
(chapter 11), the care – even if he had hurt himself – 
(chapter 47), the shared smiles 
(chapter 47). Thus this photograph 
(chapter 65) becomes a talisman — not a record of reality, but a distilled image of safety. Painful dimensions are filtered out. Conflict, coercion, and silent pressure recede into the background. Memory protects him by idealizing. Because of this picture, he projected himself in the future, making unrealistic plans. 
(chapter 47) It was, as if he only had good times with his grandmother.
Shin Okja, by contrast, remembers the same past through a radically different lens. (chapter 65) Her recollection is saturated with pity, loss, fear (chapter 65), and blame (chapter 65). The vanishing of the parents becomes the gravitational center around which all other memories orbit. Where Kim Dan remembers warmth, she remembers danger. Where he remembers protection, she remembers failure. One memory soothes; the other hardens. One preserves life; the other polices it. Kim Dan must remain the “good boy,” unchanged, because acknowledging his growth would mean acknowledging that the past did not remain intact.
The graduation photos make this painfully clear. They immortalize achievements, (chapter 47) not shared experiences. They resemble press photos of the champion more than lived moments. The work, the strain, the cost are absent. And tellingly, Kim Dan does not keep these pictures. They do not anchor memory; they flatten it. They freeze time rather than allowing it to move.
This asymmetry is crucial. It reveals that the relationship between Kim Dan and his grandmother has always mirrored the structure of those failed nights: one person remembers in a way that helps to keep working, the other remembers in a way that poisons (infantilizing doc Dan). One idealizes; the other condemns. And because the tragedy at the center of their past was never fully spoken, memory could not be synchronized. Kim Dan was pushed — silently, indirectly — to carry an idealized version of their shared life, while Shin Okja carried the unresolved catastrophe alone. (chapter 65) Toxic positivity emerges precisely here: not as cheerfulness, but as enforced idealization that denies the legitimacy of pain, anger, or differentiation.
And it is precisely here that the connection with the grandmother crystallizes. The latter is often connected to sleep 
(chapter 21) 
(chapter 47) and memories. 
(chapter 21) 
(chapter 65). While sleeping, memories come to the surface.
Only at this point did something else catch my attention — something that, retrospectively, had been present all along. The painting in the living room: 
(chapter 85) I believe that its appearance does not function as decoration. Its imagery — figures suspended among clouds, bodies neither falling nor grounded — introduces a different register of time. Not urgency. Not performance. Not spectacle. Stillness. Interval. A space where movement pauses without collapsing. Under this new light, the reference is Morpheus.
Morpheus is not the god of illusion. He is the one who allows rest, who brings form to dreams so the body can sleep. His presence signals not escape from reality, but the possibility of restorative sleep. This matters, because insomnia has haunted Joo Jaekyung from the beginning. 
(chapter 75) Until now, rest had been replaced by discharge: sex as erasure, violence as exhaustion, ritual as compulsion. The Paris night does not abolish wakefulness through collapse; it introduces the conditions under which sleep might finally be possible.
Episode 86 introduces a third possibility: the kiss of Morpheus or the famous goodnight kiss. (Chapter 86) What caught my attention is that the athlete was irritated, when the doctor simply wished him a good night. 
(Chapter 78) Here, he reduced it to the absence of sex, but I am sure that deep down, he would have been satisfied, if the “hamster” had given him a good night kiss.
The Paris night does not ask either character to idealize or to condemn. (chapter 86) It does not demand that the past be redeemed, nor that it be endlessly rehearsed. (chapter 86) Instead, it contextualizes. Memory is no longer absolute; it becomes temporal. Then and now. (chapter 86) Before and after. – and +.
This is why the electrical metaphor reaches its full force here. Two negatives do not annihilate each other. They convert. The shared remembering of two previously failed nights produces not cancellation, but potential. 
(chapter 86) The charge redistributes. Memory ceases to isolate and begins to circulate. Hence it creates a new memory.
It is at this point that Prometheus quietly enters the scene — not as explicit mythological references, but as symbolic functions. Electricity, like fire stolen from the gods, marks a return to humanity. It is the end of purely divine punishment and purely mechanical survival. At the same time, illusion dissolves. Sleep, dream, and dissociation lose their grip. The characters are no longer ghosts moving through each other’s lives, nor zombies repeating ritualized behaviors. They become human again — vulnerable, reflective, embodied. And once human, reflection becomes inevitable.
The night itself remains carpe diem. It is presence without calculation, sensation without projection, intimacy without bargaining. For those hours, the future does not intrude. But this does not mean consequence is erased. On the contrary: because the night is no longer an illusion, its aftermath must be faced. The jinx has not disappeared because its existence was not mentioned or danger is gone. Corruption, rigged matches, replacement, and blacklisting still await. What has changed is not the external threat, but the internal configuration.
The Paris night did not save the protagonists. It returned them to themselves. And this return has consequences beyond the couple. It destabilizes the grandmother’s moral economy. This new observation reinforces my previous interpretation: this position 
(chapter 86) was a reflection of the picture. (chapter 65) Shin Okja is no longer doc Dan’s center of gravitation. That’s the real revolution. There is no longer interruption or triangulation. I am even inclined to think, that’s the night where the main leads became a true team.
Moreover, if memory can be shared without collapsing into blame, then her version of the past can no longer function as unquestionable authority. (chapter 65) If Kim Dan no longer needs to idealize in order to survive, then he can finally see the cost of that idealization — for himself and for her. The tragedy she alone has been carrying can surface, but without demanding that he sacrifices his present to it. The past stops being a sealed vault and becomes a shared, albeit painful, terrain.
This is the true end of ghosthood. That’s why doc Dan is feeling feverish during that night. 
(chapter 86) No one is erased or reduced to an object. Nothing is overlooked or forgotten. But repetition loses its hold. And from here, the story can no longer proceed as before.
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(chapter 82) Jinx-Lovers consider it as their first real date, a long-awaited moment of levity after so much pain. But perhaps we should pause and ask: why this place? 
(chapter 82) scattered on the table, one displays the Eiffel Tower — the obvious choice, symbol of mastery and control. Built for the Exposition Universelle of 1889, it was meant to celebrate France’s industrial power and the centenary of the Revolution — proof that bourgeoisie and steel, not kings and nobility, now ruled the sky and ground. It was even supposed to be dismantled after twenty years, yet it remained, and has since become the symbol of Paris and of France. A monument to progress, modernity, freedom, national pride and endurance. 
(chapter 38) Hence in the States he is here turning his back to the window and his only connection to others was through the cellphone. The cities he visited were backdrops, not experiences. He was always alone. And yet, here, something changes in Paris. 
(chapter 82) His hotel room opens onto a broad window and a balcony — an invitation to look out. Secondly, observe that he only proposed this activity after the other members had fallen sick. When doc Dan barged in his room, the champion was doing a one-handed handstand, holding his entire weight as if defying gravity itself 
(chapter 82) and proving his recovery. The posture seemed like control, yet it was closer to self-punishment — an immobility that devoured strength. Blood rushed to his heart and head, but his lungs stayed empty. It was, unconsciously, his way of treating his breathlessness. This also shows that he had no real expectation about the “rest” his manager had suggested 
(chapter 82) — the drinking, the empty and aimless trip (“check out the area”). For the wolf, such a downtime could only mean endurance, not release and excitement. By the way, such a suggestion from Park Namwook borders on stupidity and blindness. How could he propose drinking, when he had seen his “boy” indulged in alcohol before?
(chapter 54) I guess, he must have taken the celebrity’s words at face-value. But let’s return our attention to the panel with the brochures selected by the champion. If you look carefully, you will detect the presence of 4 stars. 
(chapter 82) How do I come to this interpretation? We have seen these stars before, during Kim Dan’s Summer Night’s Dream: the same glittering symbols of softness and excitement.
(chapter 44) Yet, this time, the little “stars” belong to the celebrity. 
(chapter 82) His choice of the amusement park is not really about himself and his desires— it is an act of care, a wish to give happiness to someone else.
, Sleeping Beauty 
and Beauty and the Beast 
).Hence there is the castle on the brochure. 
(chapter 82) For both, it was financially and emotionally out of question. It grounds the symbolism of the amusement park in social reality, reminding readers that “fun” is also a form of privilege. This means that the champion is actually on his way to replace this picture: 
(chapter 65) So yes, this may look like a simple date. Yet beneath its playful surface lies the quietest revolution of all: the man who once ignored every view now opens the window, looks outward, and chooses wonder and fun over war.
(chapter 81), but not about the geography and air. I had truly detected the importance of this image and its symbolism. The plane that opened this arc spoke not of luxury, but of altitude — of a life lived too high, where oxygen is rationed by pride. Below the aircraft stretch the Alps, which I had correctly identified. From there flows the athlete’s own water – Evian 
(chapter 82) (written Evien in the manhwa) — drawn from the mountain that sustains him and starves him at once.
(chapter 81): the rising smoke, the suggestion of a light already suffocated. The higher they bring him, the closer he moves to extinction. Besides, the higher he climbs, the harder the fall. In other words, they are trying to break him — to make him fall — something the athlete has already sensed. 
(chapter 82) 
(chapter 82) — a creature of heights and thin air, born to dominate the skies where others can barely breathe. The metaphor could not be clearer: altitude is his arena, but also his undoing. 
(chapter 81) The air remains clear and generous, the sky washed in blue as if nothing could go wrong. Yet the trees, touched by the first copper tones, announce the slow turn of the year. It is a calm, lucid atmosphere, the kind of weather that hides transition inside serenity. The unseen Seine glides through the city like a long breath, steady and effortless.
(chapter 82), to build joy outside the ring 
(chapter 82) 
(chapter 81) A single breath — huu — escapes, white against the air. It looks like calm, but it isn’t. It’s the sound of a man forcing his body to obey. The clenched fist that follows betrays him: anxiety condensed into muscle. 
(chapter 81) The champion has descended, yet the altitude still lives inside him.
(chapter 14), but his lungs and heart. Yet at the airport, the sportsman doesn’t realize it 
and makes the following resolution: 
(chapter 69) Back then, he feared for doc Dan’s life and ran as if his own heart depended on it. His breathlessness wasn’t exhaustion but panic: the instinctive terror of losing the person who keeps him alive. Thus when he saw him alive on the dock, he could start breathing properly: 
(chapter 69) From HUFF to HAA… exhale versus inhale.
(chapter 82) His brain and heart remember that night at the dock; every harsh inhale during practice echoes that same dread of separation.
(chapter 82) And how did the champion respond to that provocation? Like a cornered animal. 
(chapter 82) He became the wolf again, not out of jealousy, but out of survival reflex—his body screaming its panic in place of words. In that instant, he was reminded that he could lose doc Dan as a partner, that the bond he relies on might not belong to him forever.. The roar emptied his chest; his lungs gave out before his pride did. There was no air left in his body… thus the heart and lung couldn’t work properly. 
(chapter 75) The fearsome beast who once fought for dominance is gone. What remains is a tamed wolf, following his master’s voice (doc Dan) — not out of submission, but because he finally trusts where it leads. 
(chapter 82) He is now a tamed wolf following his master’s suggestions! 
(chapter 82) Thus the coach is now facing the couple. And now, my avid readers can understand why the champion seems almost radiant when he finds himself alone with doc Dan at the amusement park. It is not mere joy or freedom; it is the relief of finally acting from desire instead of duty 
(chapter 55) 
(chapter 79) The scene functions as both mirror and revelation: it forces the fighter to face the truth he has avoided all his life. In the past, he had never truly fallen. His defeats were painful, but never fatal; his failures never signified the end of a life. He could always stand up again — until now. Watching Kim Dan lean over the edge forces him to confront the difference between metaphor and mortality.
(chapter 73) – surrounded by bottles and syringes (chapter 73). Addiction, gambling, and intoxication: all ways of trying to rise above reality, to feel high, if only for a moment. Joo Jaewoong quite literally died from altitude, from chasing a false form of air. His father had tried to climb the social ladder through sport, to escape the poverty that trapped them, but he had failed. Those words 
(chapter 73), thrown like stones by the father at his son, buried themselves in the boy like shards.. They echoed like a curse — a prophecy Joo Jaekyung would spend his whole life disproving.
(chapter 72) 
(chapter 72), yet she made no attempt to build an independent life. Her survival had always depended on his success — and when his career crumbled, she vanished with it. That’s the reason why the trash remained uncollected — a visual proof of abandonment 
(chapter 72) But the little boy failed to notice it, because he was suffering from the father’s abuse. Before leaving, she gave her son a phone number, as if absence were only temporary, as if love could be reached through a dial tone. That small gesture sustained an illusion: that she would come back if he became strong enough, rich enough, worthy enough. That illusion became the foundation of his life.
(chapter 72) His first fight was not about trophies — it was an act of filial negotiation: a promise to buy her return. But of course, 300 dollars could not rebuild a family. His first fall became the confirmation of her silence. This explicates why he recalls his first tournament and considers it as “fall”. He had not been able to win, thus the mother could not return. He doesn’t fight for glory or passion; he fights to avoid being discarded again. So, when he says “I won’t fall again,” what he really means is “I won’t let myself be unloved again.” 
(chapter 72) But the problem is that when he was finally able to reach his mother, the latter answered that Joo Jaekyung was too late. The mother’s words sealed the curse. He was “already grown up now” 
(chapter 74), hence he no longer needed her — as if maturity meant he no longer needed love. She actually implied that she had been all this time by his side. 
(chapter 74), while in reality, she had long abandoned him. Her departure turned growth into punishment, and independence into exile. This explicates why as an adult, he used money to buy people and turn them into toys. This could only make appear as a spoiled brat. 
(chapter 79) Even Park Namwook himself, only days earlier, had described the French match as 
(chapter 81) “a breeze” — a fight so effortless that it would bring some fresh air into the champion’s career. But that metaphor betrays its irony: what was supposed to refresh him is now suffocating him. The “breeze” promised by his manager has turned into lack of air.
(chapter 70) — a detail no one around him ever learned. This simple fact overturns their interpretation. 
(chapter 70) The breathlessness they see now is not a decline in performance, but the residue of transformation. His body, once trained to suppress every weakness, had finally surrendered to nature.
(chapter 46), whose clash with the champion exposes two different forms of frustration.
(chapter 46) He reproaches Seonho for using his title and image to promote himself, for bragging about their sparring sessions to boost his career. From his perspective, Seonho lacks both endurance and authenticity — he performs strength rather than living it. 
(chapter 46) For Jaekyung, such behavior is intolerable because it cheapens everything he has sacrificed to achieve.
(chapter 46) He turns on Jaekyung and accuses him of arrogance — of using his champion title to look down on others. What Seonho perceives as disdain is, in truth, the athlete’s defense mechanism. The star’s detachment is not born from pride but from obligation and trauma (abandonment issues). 
(chapter 46) His perfection is not freedom; it is captivity.
(chapter 52) tried to recruit Potato, the youngest member from Team Black. He wanted to become the new idol of Hwang Yoon-Gu. He imagined that he could replace the main lead and Potato would be happy to become the new sparring partner of Seonho. 
(chapter 82) — a beauty that glides but never lands. Like Seonho, Gabriel thrives on appearance — on surfaces polished by attention. His beauty, elegance, and social charisma are his weapons. He lives in the air of visibility, relying on wind — the shifting currents of social media 
(chapter 81) 
(chapter 82) and press coverage — to lift his name higher. That’s why Mingwa made sure to show him at the press conference. 
(chapter 82) Every post, every camera flash, every headline serves as borrowed oxygen. 
(chapter 82) Yet beneath that composure lies dependency. Gabriel’s power exists only as long as others keep watching, as long as the wind keeps blowing. His world is made of altitude — but the higher one flies, the thinner the air becomes. But if there is no wind or air, the eagle can no longer fly. This is palpable on two occasions, his encounter with the two male leads. 
(chapter 82) The grin that follows is one of self-satisfaction and superficiality, not connection. It’s the smile of a man admiring his own reflection in another’s confusion — proof that he controls both the scene and the gaze. This shows that he had no intention to make the protagonist jealous. And it is clear that he never saw the wolf’s rage afterwards. 
(chapter 82) That way, his “vulnerability” would be masked. No one would question the champion’s health. And this brings me to my next observation. 
(chapter 70). Both men embody the same cruelty disguised as professionalism — one in the ring, the other from the shadows. They blame the champion for the new match, none of them question the system. 
(chapter 36) or the media’s harsh verdicts after defeat 
(chapter 54), when analysts accused Jaekyung of recklessness for returning to the ring too soon, though he had problems with his shoulder. Gabriel’s fame soars above such storms — sustained by admiration, not endurance. Hence he is posting selfies.
(chapter 82) He is now seen signing autographs 
(chapter 82), whereas in the past, he was only seen in company of reporters in a secluded area. 
(chapter 40) 
(chapter 69) The victory would be branded as hollow, a publicity stunt rather than an athletic achievement. 
(chapter 82) first unveiled at the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, was created to transform height into play. Conceived by engineer George Washington Ferris as America’s answer to the Parisian tower, it sought to outshine France not through steel alone, but through motion — a structure that would rise and fall, carrying ordinary people with it. Unlike the fixed tower, the wheel invited participation: passengers would move together, share the air, rise and descend without fear. It was both monument and moment — a way to democratize the sky.
Here the athlete has only one goal: talk to doc Dan and clean the air. He has no intention to truly rekindle with him 
Thus he is still stuck in a traffic jam. 
Here, there is a progression, because he can switch the lane. However, he is still driving in one direction, not looking out of the window. He is not taking his time either. These scenes illustrate the champion’s psychological confinement and mirror doc Dan’s mindset as well.
(chapter 75)
(chapter 27) 
(chapter 80) He has not grasped that he can make the champion happy. In fact, this day would represent a real break and rest, as they would learn nothing, only make new experiences so that life can appear colorful again. Here, we can see two balloons in the form of heart: green and yellow. 
(chapter 74) Joo Jaekyung would have achieved his goal: even vulnerable or childish, he is still lovable. 
(chapter 41) They were destined to be together and lived happily. 
(chapter 55)
(chapter 79) However, let me ask you this. What kind of circle ends in episode 79? Moreover, how is this ending different from the past? Interesting is that episode 79 of Jinx doesn’t end with conflict, but with an awakening. For the first time, Joo Jaekyung does not rise to fight, command, or perform — he wakes up to a realization: “This can’t go on.” In the Korean version, his words carry an unusual clarity. It is not fate that changes, but choice. The champion, who once lived as if enslaved by habit and haunted by ghosts, now chooses transformation. The circle that has defined his life — power, silence, guilt, and repression — finally begins to close.
(chapter 79) Until now, Jaekyung has moved through life as if carrying a curse — the belief that he is unworthy of care and love. 
(chapter 78) Every match, every order, every touch was an act of penance. Yet, in this episode, that belief dissolves. What vanishes in chapter 79 is not his strength, but the compulsion to suffer for it. Through the unconscious confession from Doc Dan, the wolf discovers that despite his wrongdoings, he is not hated by the “hamster”. 
(chapter 39) from the magical night in the States. Both moments unfold in half-darkness, both break through inhibition, and both blur the line between consciousness and surrender. The verbal difference hides a deeper sameness: 
(chapter 79) is not remorse alone — it is an act of love, an instinctive reaching-out toward the other’s pain.
(chapter 9), 29’s confession on the couch 
(chapter 29), 69’s first expression of feelings in the dark 
(chapter 69). In chapter 79, the circle closes once more. The night’s palette tells the story — deep blue softens into violet 
(chapter 64) 
(chapter 79), the color born from the fusion of blue (Dan’s sorrow) and red (Jaekyung’s intensity). For the first time, in the penthouse the color of their relationship is not pain but balance. And now, you comprehend why in the hallway, the purple had almost vanished: 
(chapter 66) 
(chapter 79) To restore it, he will have to speak, to act, and ultimately, to smile again.
(chapter 79) gives way to the silent recognition of fear. When the champion admits, 
(chapter 79), it is a confession disguised as complaint. For the first time, he voiced his dependency and vulnerability more clearly, as his body language is no longer expressing hesitation and shyness. Imagine that so far, he had lived following the principle of “self-reliance”. Yet when Dan asks, “What?” the champion retreats: 
(chapter 79) His feelings collapse into the void between words. Above them, the spiral chandelier glows — the perfect symbol of their unfinished circle. His unspoken fear hangs suspended, waiting to be voiced because of someone else’s actions: the doctor’s grin 
(chapter 79) and fall 
(chapter 54) still equates vulnerability with humiliation. 
(chapter 73) In the past, every sign of weakness was punished or laughed at; even longing arrived through ridicule. Hence the “grinning” Dan of his nightmare 
(chapter 79) The vision forces him to confront the origin of his shame. He realizes, instinctively, that the real Kim Dan would never smile at his pain — and through that recognition, he begins to separate present from past. He has already experienced a silent, but warm gaze 
(chapter 77) from his fated partner after admitting his defeat: 
(chapter 76)
(chapter 73) but by a new, fragile dread: the possibility of losing the one person who would never say it. What vanishes in episode 79 is not his strength, but the belief that to need someone is to be weak.
(chapter 78) He has long recognized his wrongdoings — the pressure, the harshness, the selfishness 
(chapter 76) — but guilt without self-forgiveness remains sterile. What is the point of apologizing to someone when you cannot forgive yourself? His silence, then, is not arrogance but self-condemnation. Beneath his strength lies a man who believes that no apology can redeem him, because no one ever offered him one first. His father’s mockery, his coach’s reproaches 
(chapter 74) and expectations, his mother’s betrayal 
(chapter 73) Every punch was an act of self-erasure, every victory a brief anesthesia against the echo of his own self-loathing and regrets. He mistook exhaustion for atonement. But when Kim Dan whispers 
(chapter 79) His vision of Kim Dan’s false grin is not a taunt from the other 
(chapter 79)— the breakfast scene 
(chapter 79) , the casual 
(chapter 79), it is as if he is saving not only his partner but the part of himself that used to give up. He was living like a ghost denying his own emotions. 
(chapter 78) That word revealed his blindness — the refusal to acknowledge pain that does not announce itself through wounds. The new incident at the railing shatters that illusion. It was never an accident, but the expression of mental illness
(chapter 77) 
(chapter 80) Each time, the physical therapist shows concerns for the athlete’s well-being. He perceives this change of behavior as the expression of unwell-being.
(chapter 69), and the balcony 
(chapter 38) — the very image that defines Kim Dan’s being. The clouds on his phone screen are not incidental; they reflect his essence. A cloud has no home, no fixed form, forever moving, dissolving, reforming — just like the doctor’s life, endlessly displaced and redefined by others’ expectations. Clouds embody both dream and danger: they promise transcendence but conceal the storm. Besides, a cloud can fall as rain, return to the ocean, or vanish into the sky — an image of the soul that oscillates between grounding and escape.
(chapter 37) Behind the champion, the Golden Gate Bridge stands as a silent witness — a place where many have ended their lives by leaping into the void between air and water. The bridge fuses both symbols: it is where drowning and falling meet. Moreover, the bridge embodies the connection of two worlds. This backdrop, unnoticed by the protagonists themselves, prefigures the later arcs. Joo Jaekyung is the one standing between the bridge and the physical therapist. It was, as if the author was already announcing the huge depression doc Dan would face in the future. At the same time, I came to wonder if the unconscious suicidal attempts from Doc Dan were actually revealing the biggest secret in his life: the suicide of his parents and their death could be linked to a bridge. Striking is that while the members of Team Black were partying
(chapter 73) before he discovered Joo Jaewoong’s corpse. The bridge thus becomes a metaphor for invisible grief: joy and pain occurring simultaneously, one masking the other. And keep in mind that according to my theory, the picture of Dan with his grandmother is hiding a tragedy. This would explain why doc Dan is so obsessed with this picture: 
(chapter 47) The smiles here are hiding the past reality. 
(chapter 79) — so unlike his real, exhausted self — is a vision of peace, of love unburdened by fear, while this grin exposes the truth. The dream, the realm of clouds, becomes a stage where the wolf shows and learns tenderness. The dream’s fear and indirect self-reproach 
(chapter 41) In other words, the dream is giving him clues as well how to behave: not only greeting, but also talking. What caught my attention is that during their two last breakfasts together 
(chapter 68), they didn’t talk at all 
(chapter 79) which contrasts to the star’s vision. 
(chapter 79) He does not kneel; he sits, his body settling softly against the floor as he catches Dan in his arms. The man once associated with dominance becomes a cushion, a pillow, a living anchor. His strength, once used to impose weight, now exists to absorb it. The fall is not toward repentance through pain, but toward tenderness through stillness.
(chapter 11) now becomes the one who receives the collapse. 
(chapter 66) 
(chapter 66) trembles out against Jaekyung’s chest; his 
(chapter 57), he could only confide while being physically comforted. The grandmother’s embrace in chapter 57 becomes the prototype of this pattern — the last instance of safety tied to voice. Yet, crucially, that embrace was conditional and silencing. She soothed him but redirected his pain: 
(chapter 80) The moment the star was holding doc Dan’s hands, the latter started voicing more his emotions (fears, displeasure). 
(chapter 80) When Jaekyung takes his hands in the swimming pool, the gesture revives this primal language of reassurance. For the first time, the touch is neither coercive nor desperate; it’s sustaining. The handhold reverses the earlier dynamic — instead of silencing him, it gives him permission to speak. Furthermore, the champion is pointing out that he can rely on two things, the champion’s hands and the kickboard belt. This stands in opposition to the fake promise of Shin Okja. 
(chapter 57) In other words, he is inciting the doctor to trust himself more and become independent. 
(chapter 80) 
(chapter 80) His comfort does not deny danger — he acknowledges the possibility of falling into the water — but he links survival to skill, not assistance and dependency. His statement affirms Dan’s agency: he can save himself. Once he can swim, he is strong enough. Where the grandmother sought to replace the absent parents 
(chapter 80) in the swimming pool carries transformative potential. It is not merely a gesture of survival, but an initiation into honesty. Surrounded by water, both men are stripped of pretense. And observe that Joo Jaekyung is not rejecting the physical embrace 
(chapter 80) contrary to the past. 
(chapter 28) 
(chapter 69) The wolf, who once relied on dominance and silence, is now allowing his fated partner to hug him. 
(chapter 21) From childhood onward, being held becomes the only assurance that the world still contains care. When he woke crying and was taken into his grandmother’s arms (chapter 21), the patting gesture did not merely quiet his fear; it taught him that consolation requires contact. Yet this early lesson carried a hidden cost: it trained him to associate peace with submission and silence, and affection with dependency. Therefore the swimming lesson contains another important life lesson: it is about choice! Joo Jaekyung wants to be “chosen” by the physical therapist, hence he wants to conquer his heart. 
(chapter 80) That’s the reason why he can not change doc Dan’s heart and mind with the new clothes. For that, he needs to reveal his “weakness” to the physical therapist. 
(chapter 59) His hand resting on Boksoon’s fur repeats the same motion — the pat once given to him, now returned to another being in pain. What he offers the animal is precisely what he has always longed for: warmth without judgment, touch without condition. 
(chapter 4), not intention: a reflex of possession, not communication. As time passed on, it changed, yet in the bathtub (chapter 68), Dan fell asleep against him so that he could never experience the athlete’s care 
(chapter 68); in the morning, Jaekyung acted as though nothing had happened. Then on the dock, Joo Jaekyung expressed his relief 
(chapter 53), she frames her guilt in terms of debt, not grief. What she cannot say is: “I’m sorry your parents are gone, and I buried the truth.” Her compassion never touches the core wound. Instead, she redirects her remorse into pity 
(chapter 65) 
(chapter 57). Everything evolved around his lack of sleep and his dependency on her. 
(chapter 65) However, in episode 79, for the first time, the champion notices it.
(chapter 79) It is important because very early on, the doctor Cheolmin had already detected his malnutrition: 
(chapter 13) In other words, the physical therapist’s depression and eating disorder were already existent before meeting the “wolf”. And what did the mysterious friend tell to the “wolf”? He shouldn’t wait out of fear that he might regret it later! 
(chapter 13) As you can see, “sorry” is the link between the two doctors and the celebrity. 
His metamorphosis will be complete with the birth of the kind and sweet Joo Jaekyung! 
(chapter 21) Imagine that I had written this part before the release of episode 80! 
(chapter 29) 
(chapter 61) Hence it is no coincidence that while sleeping in his own bedroom, the physical therapist had a relapse. 
(chapter 79) Because the champion had come to the conclusion that his own bedchamber was linked to sex 
(chapter 78) And though he had another “accident”, the former is never bringing it up to doc Dan. There’s no blame or accusation. The athlete is keeping these accidents as secrets. However, pay attention that he is making sure that doc Dan is resting. 
(chapter 80) Notice that he joined him later, acting as if they had not shared the same bed. Gradually, the champion is giving back doc Dan’s freedom and privacy. He is guiding him to take care better of himself by using his own words. 
(chapter 27) Striking is that the champion always chose the left side of the bed 
(chapter 66) Thus I deduce that doc Dan is destined to take over his grandmother’s position in the bed: 
(chapter 80) The star was sitting on the right side of the bed while watching his sleeping partner. Why? It is because he can see his face. But by lying on the left side, doc Dan came to turn his back to him. 
(chapter 79) Because of the champion’s cold gaze, doc Dan felt rejected and even hated. 
(chapter 79) He had the impression that he wouldn’t meet his “expectations”. Observe the parallels between the champion’s dream 
(chapter 57) We have the doctor’s fake smile which is strongly linked to rejection 
(chapter 57) and expectations. And what is the other common denominator? His self-loathing and immense guilt. He has the feeling that he is not lovable. In my opinion, doc Dan is suffering because no one is listening to him at all. So far, they all projected their own thoughts onto him. The reality is that doc Dan already had a hard time before moving to the seaside town, 
(chapter 11) yet she failed to notice it or refused to face his struggles, as they were related to their poverty. 
(chapter 5), he lost his voice and became a ghost. It is no coincidence that in this scene, doc Dan was silent despite the caress. He was avoiding any topic that could trouble his grandmother. He accepted to remain a little boy in her eyes. But thanks to the wolf, doc Dan is learning to become strong and independent so that he can decide about his life. The swimming lesson is pushing him to overcome his abandonment issues. 
(chapter 79), not communion; his affection, an extension of performance 
(chapter 79). Yet as the doctor grows thinner and more exhausted, the wolf begins to understand what “starvation” truly means. 
(chapter 79) 
(chapter 16) —haltingly and with a trace of disbelief visible thanks to the points of suspension —as his first kiss ever. His stunned reaction and eventual admission offer a compelling lens through which to explore the symbolism of kissing in Jinx, but also the emotional landscape the two men must navigate. 
(chapter 55) Still, some readers have theorized the existence of a “special lover” in his past 
(chapter 2), someone who might have earned a different kind of intimacy. One cause for this hypothesis is that in the champion’s first memory, he was facing his partner, which contrasts so much to the way he had sex with his partners (from behind). This possibility casts the locker room kiss in a new light. 
(chapter 14) If it was his first, the gesture carries a far deeper meaning than either man realizes in the moment. And if it wasn’t, then why does this kiss—with Kim Dan—resonate so differently?
(chapter 30) Recognizing his face, Dan mentions that his grandmother used to watch the drama A Fine Line, and that he had seen it with her. 
(chapter 30) The author even includes a framed shot from the fictional show, depicting Heesung as the smiling son-in-law in a multigenerational family. This visual insert is subtle, but telling: it wasn’t the story that stayed with Dan, but the faces—the aesthetics of family structure and polite emotional decorum.
(chapter 16) it frightened him. The kiss broke an invisible boundary—one his upbringing had silently enforced. That’s the reason why he wasn’t sure if he could do it again.
(chapter 30) He blushes and wonders why. 
(chapter 30) It’s a telling moment: Dan isn’t used to feeling attraction and desire, let alone recognizing it. He never bought posters of celebrities, never fantasized. That world—the glamorous world of affection, attention, and beauty—was never his. 
(chapter 30) —despite already having been seen naked by Jaekyung 
(chapter 30) —suggests something deeper than modesty. When he rushes to hide his underwear and blushes merely at brushing his teeth next to someone 
(chapter 30), it becomes evident: Dan is not accustomed to physical closeness or shared domestic spaces. These are not reactions of a man with just sexual trauma—they point to someone raised without the warmth of daily intimacy.
(chapter 5) He had to take care of himself, dressed on his own. He had to act like an adult, as his role was to assist his grandmother: 
(chapter 44) and ear 
(chapter 44) and toward something far more intimate and protective. These are not the kisses of seduction, but of affection—almost maternal in their tone. Hence the MMA fighter got patted later: 
(chapter 44) They suggest care, comfort, and emotional presence. This is crucial, because it reveals that for Dan, a kiss is not about arousal or conquest. It is a language of love. They carry the flavor of instinct. These are the kinds of kisses a child might have once received, or given, in moments of safety and connection.
(chapter 44) is a behavior shared by felines and wolves alike: a subtle act of comfort, trust, and bonding. Wolves nuzzle to soothe and reassure. Leopards nudge to display affection without threatening dominance. Dan’s pecks 
(chapter 57) (chapter 57)—licking them not out of instinct alone, but to reassure and bond. 
(chapter 57) During that summer night’s dream, Dan’s body mirrored this wordless care. That’s why he could laugh so genuinely like a child after witnessing his “pet’s reaction”. 
(chapter 14) Therefore the physical therapist astonishment, “What’s this?” was not naïve; it was disoriented. Somewhere deep within, Dan had internalized a different model of kissing: one that reflected comfort, not conquest; affection, not arousal. The kiss he received was too strange, too fierce—it violated a definition he didn’t even know he had. His body knew how to kiss, but it remembered a different type of kiss altogether. The latter stands for love and as such emotions. Under this new light, my avid readers can comprehend why the physical therapist made the following request from his fated partner: 
(chapter 14) Jaekyung repeated such a gesture, as seen in chapters 24
(chapter 24), and again in 64 
(chapter 64). These gestures were not expressions of tenderness, but acts of dominance, mirroring how the celebrity was taught to treat intimacy: not as an exchange, but as an imposition. His behavior echoes Cheolmin’s earlier suggestion 
(chapter 13) where a little touch was functional. On the other hand, the suggestion framed “affection” as a form of fun and entertainment, meant to soften the experience and shift the focus toward the partner. While Cheolmin’s comment was not malicious—in fact, it encouraged Jaekyung to become gentler and more attentive—it still fell short of true emotional connection. Why? It was a medical suggestion, meant to protect Dan’s fragile state. The kisses in episodes 14 were to protect the physical therapist. They were initially functional, a mean to achieve a goal before becoming a habit.
(chapter 63) Fun is not the same as love, and this distinction matters deeply for someone like Kim Dan, who associates kissing with emotional safety and love, not performance or play. This explicates why he refused to be kissed in episode 63: 
(chapter 63) 
(chapter 3) —it forces the wolf to ponder on the meaning of a kiss and his relationship with the physical therapist.
In that iconic artwork, the man does not kiss the woman on the mouth, the traditional locus of erotic desire. Instead, his lips are placed upon her cheek—a gesture that suggests reverence, not possession; vulnerability, not domination.
(chapter 44) 
(chapter 45)
(chapter 54) When he was young, he had to face an abuser. Notice that the man’s face was very close to the champion’s 
(chapter 44) He couldn’t hide his joy by the champion’s funny reaction and laughed. And how did the protagonist react to this? Not only his face expressed his dissatisfaction, but also he silenced his partner with a kiss right away: 
(chapter 44) Joo Jaekyung is leading the kiss, he is regaining control over their relationship. It reinforces the idea that the wolf’s kiss was not merely about passion, but about reclaiming dominance and halting a shift in power. Just moments earlier, Kim Dan’s laughter had opened a space of emotional intimacy and lightness, which the champion was not prepared to face. The kiss, now prolonged and intensified, becomes the sportsman’s way of reasserting control over a situation that was slipping into unfamiliar emotional territory.
(chapter 45) The marks on the doctor’s body were evidence that he was no longer in control. They weren’t just signs of a physical encounter—they were witnesses to something far more threatening: vulnerability, softness, and reciprocity. In the night, swept up by instinct and unspoken longing, the wolf had allowed himself to be touched—not just physically, but emotionally. But by morning, the spell was broken. His gaze didn’t linger on Kim Dan with affection—it darted instead to the bruises and scratches as though they were accusations.
(chapter 45) wasn’t just the pain he might have inflicted—it was the realization that the balance of power had subtly shifted. The man who had always dictated the terms of their relationship had surrendered to something unfamiliar: tenderness, emotional closeness, and shared desire. The fact that Kim Dan initiated affection, even kissed him voluntarily, shattered Jaekyung’s script. For someone who conflated feelings with threat, and dominance with safety, this reversal was unbearable.
(chapter 45) —and that he, in turn, had wanted Dan back. This terrified him more than any bruise ever could.
(chapter 37), and kissing becomes his emotional brake pedal. It’s not simply an act of love, but a means to regulate, or even drown out, what he cannot yet name or accept: that he is being loved. It is not random that I included the scene from episode 37: he heard laughs from the other room. For him, such a noise must have sounded like a disrespect and mockery, triggering his past trauma. And he was not entirely wrong in the sense that they were eating behind his back 
(chapter 37) It was, as if they were mocking him because of his forced “diet”. No wonder why the champion is barely seen laughing and prefers seriousness. At the same time, I can grasp why the athlete feels close to Park Namwook, as the latter stands for these exact notions: work, money and seriousness. Fun is not part of his world and vocabulary, therefore he punished Joo Jaekyung for sparring with doc Dan.
(chapter 2) Though his face was close to the star’s, he didn’t attempt to kiss him. In fact, he proposed him a fellatio, a sign that the champion had never allowed anyone to get close to his “face”. Finally, observe how he reacted, when the uke in episode 55 attempted to kiss him: 
(chapter 55) The celebrity even ran away: a sign that the allowing someone approaching his face is perceived as something uncomfortable and threatening. At the same time, that moment exposes the kiss as something sacred—one that cannot be duplicated without emotional violation. This shows that for the champion, the meaning of a smooch has evolved. It is no longer perceived as a source of fun and a mean to gain something.
(chapter 55) He couldn’t forget doc Dan’s face, the latter excited him, a sign that for the champion, the face in general has been a source of pain, yet thanks to doc Dan, the latter has become a source of “comfort and joy”. 
(chapter 66) When he saw his face for the first time, he didn’t realize that he was already under the hamster’s spell. Striking is that he even focused on his chin and lips, a sign that he desired to kiss them. One thing is sure. The champion treasured the doctor’s face. After their separation, it is not surprising that the wolf felt the need to see his face. 
(chapter 39) before requesting a fellatio: 
(chapter 39) The main lead’s head was very close to the champion’s face, thus he must have felt uncomfortable. Secondly by acting this way, the doctor was gradually gaining power over their relationship. For the wolf, dominance is everything, an indication that in his past he felt defenseless and weak. His “opponent”, the mysterious ghost, had the upper hand. Moreover, the fellatio created a distance between them, where the fighter could expose his superiority. And note how doc Dan behaved under the influence of the drug: 
(chapter 39) For the first time, he accepted Dan’s initiative—both physically and emotionally. Compare it to his attitude before: 
(chapter 55) These memories represent the moment where the athlete felt strong and had the upper hand in their relationship. These images reveal that Joo Jaekyung hasn’t realized the signification of the kiss yet. For him, they don’t seem important. This exposes that the athlete has not associated kiss with love and affection yet. At the same time, we have to envision that a smooch is strongly intertwined with equity and trust. 
(chapter 28) And in episode 14, it was clear that the star still felt superior to his companion, therefore the kiss had no special meaning. As you can see, everything is pointing out that Joo Jaekyung had never been kissed before. And what does a kiss symbolize? Not only attachment, but also purity and innocence. 
(chapter 42) According to him, doc Dan was not different from him. However, he was wrong. It is because the champion had kissed him!! Moreover, the celebrity had allowed doc Dan to kiss him as well. Besides, how did the champion name his past lovers? They were toys… normally people don’t kiss playthings. And now, imagine that doc Dan were to discover that Joo Jaekyung had his first kiss with him. This revelation would not only make him realize that Joo Jaekyung loves him, but also he could be wondering why the athlete had never done such a thing before, though he had past lovers. YES, the “first kiss” could be the trigger for both characters to question their respective past and perceive their fated partner correctly. 
(chapter 15) 
(chapter 52) In that context, a kiss could never be affection, but vulnerability. A risk.
(chapter 3), based on Dan’s vague claim of prior partners. Yet Dan has never kissed anyone before. The kiss becomes his true moment of loss, a quiet confession through action. Conversely, Jaekyung’s own discomfort shows that he, too, is untouched in this particular way. When Dan tries to kiss Jaekyung again, and he instinctively rejects it, it reveals just how unprepared he is for affection. They are both unaware that the other is emotionally “pure” in this regard, and that makes the kiss a shared revelation.
(chapter 67), Jaekyung must reinvent his approach. He cannot rely on dominance, strength, or sexual performance to win Dan’s heart. If he wants true connection, he must learn a new language—one built on gestures of affection, softness, and presence. This process also involves separating his public persona from his private longing. Joo Jaekyung, the champion, cannot seduce with spectacle. But Jaegeng, the man, might learn to express love through a simple touch, or a well-timed kiss. The redefinition of seduction is not just about Dan’s healing; it is about the wolf’s reclaiming his own right to feel and give love. And in my opinion, that process has already started: 
(chapter 65) nor his past partners provided him with genuine and affectionate touch, Jaekyung must look elsewhere. 
(chapter 29: note that he did not select this scene to rekindle with the doctor, but the other scene) He will learn it from life, from watching how the innocent express care without shame or purpose.
(chapter 27) In Jaekyung’s past, laughter had been a weapon—an expression of ridicule and cruelty from an abuser. 
(chapter 62) If someone had laughed in front of him and made fun of him, this would have reopened his old wounds.
(chapter 66) quietly shapes the emotional core of the episode. At first, this detail may appear insignificant, but its narrative timing and visual prominence suggest a deeper meaning. The sudden flight of the sparrows 
(chapter 66) mirrors the situation of the main characters, as the latter are about to depart for Seoul. Striking is that Mingwa draws our attention away from the champion grabbing doc Dan, but focused on the birds. Why? It is because the author desires her readers to notice the world of subtle symbolism. Far from being a random detail, the presence—and sudden flight—of the sparrows echoes the characters’ inner transitions, raising questions about home, communication, critique, and the complicated process of change. To understand the richness of this scene, it’s crucial to consider not only the sparrow’s traditional meanings but also the narrative choices the Webtoonist makes in what is shown and what is left unseen, especially regarding the role of witnesses and the power of perception. To fully appreciate the layers of meaning in this moment, it is essential to consider not only the universal symbolism of sparrows but also their role in classic fables, Korean culture, and even modern pop culture—where the sparrow’s voice becomes a catalyst for both belonging and change.
(chapter 69) —who serve as stand-ins for the broader community. In this way, their union is not just a private matter but becomes public and recognized, affirming their bond within the social fabric of the town.
(chapter 69) fight again in the fall which leads him later to admit his own vulnerability 
(chapter 69). The omen of unity is fleeting, replaced by the return of hardship and uncertainty. Through this careful allusion to the visual language of traditional art, Mingwa invites us to savor the beauty and community of these moments 
(chapter 64) or inspire the group to change its direction. In the context of Jinx, the sparrows’ existence 
(chapter 62). It took place in the morning. The harmony doc Dan hoped to find is momentarily lost, replaced by anxiety and a sense of being unmoored. 
(chapter 62), therefore the young man didn’t pay attention to his arrival contrary to the quoted panel above. Moreover, it is clear that the “hamster” felt safe in the presence of the landlord. Back then, he had only accepted the champion’s request after hearing the landlord’s remark: 
(chapter 62) The champion’s abruptness is the result of Kim Dan’s past rejection and stubbornness, the athlete is expecting resistance. However, he can not ignore doc Dan’s exhaustion and fragility. Besides, he feels motivated and justified, as he is following Shin Okja’s request.
(chapter 69), while Joo Jaekyung must confront the impact of his actions and learn new ways to show support. The challenges that follow—the physical setback for Kim Dan and the champion’s new professional demands—reinforce that their journey is full of hurdles. Still, these hindrances serve a higher purpose: to remind them that they are not alone, that they need each other’s protection and backing, and that the bonds forming in this little town can become sources of true resilience.
(chapter 27) a playful prank occurs without any third-party observer. The context is unambiguous: both the characters and the reader understand the action as harmless and mutually accepted, so no external framing is required.
(chapter 66) The landlord’s proximity and his bemused, neutral questioning guides the reader’s interpretation, framing the scene as ordinary and non-threatening rather than alarming or inappropriate. He is able to grasp the existence of Joo Jaekyung’s motivations behind his behavior. He doesn’t judge the protagonist as face-value, he desires to know why he is acting this way.
(chapter 69) Here,the Korean Webtoonist directs the focus to the characters themselves, depicting the champion’s rough handling of doc Dan with striking directness: we see the moment Jaekyung grabs Dan by the t-shirt 
(chapter 69) and throws him outside 
(chapter 69), the action punctuated by dramatic motion lines and the sounds of impact. Yet, despite the force of the act, the landlord—who witnesses the scene in real time—remains silent, choosing not to intervene, criticize, or even question Jaekyung’s motives. 
(chapter 69) His composed presence in the background 
(chapter 69) 
(chapter 69) Moreover, I am sensing that the elderly man might feel terrible, for he asked for the athlete’s assistance in the middle of the night. But let’s not forget that the main lead had driven 4 times within 2 days the distance from the little town to Seoul.
(chapter 62) he brings his belongings 
(chapter 66) gradually into his new environment, creating a personal nest. 
(chapter 69) This process is not merely about physical comfort, but about constructing a sense of safety, identity, and belonging. One of these items could be the doctor’s present. Notice that before he left his penthouse with the gray car, he was holding the “golden key chain”, 
(chapter 66) a sign that this gift has now a sentimental value for the athlete. Just as sparrows persistently build and rebuild, so do the characters in Jinx adapt, settle, and grow—sometimes through trial and error, sometimes in fits and starts, but always moving toward a deeper sense of home. By moving to a smaller house, he is encouraged to select what truly matters to him. This evolution has not reached its end: the champion will keep moving his possessions to the little town. Moreover, I am more than ever convinced that we should expect the arrival of the Wedding Cabinet in that small town. 
(chapter 19) To conclude, we should see the chapters from 62 to 69 as the creation of the couple’s nest and as such “home”. 
(chapter 57) She wondered if this nickname “MAMA” was not a spelling mistake, and that the translator might have meant “MMA fighter Joo Jaekyung.” Intrigued by this possibility, I sought clarification, and indeed, in the Japanese version 
(episode 57) the reporter introduces the main lead differently: “Next, we have news regarding Joo Jaekyung.” This subtle difference is significant for three reasons.
(chapter 57) And what does it mean?
(chapter 52) and the suspension from their narrative highlights a calculated effort to erase inconvenient truths that could tarnish not only MFC’s reputation but also that of the medical professionals complicit in their schemes. Let’s not forget 
(chapter 41) the complicity of the doctors who cleared Joo Jaekyung to fight despite his evident injuries as another example of the corruption within this world. Moreover, by avoiding any mention of the suspension
(chapter 52) 
(chapter 52), is not only a protective measure for MFC but also shields the medical professionals who facilitated the situation. Doctors at the health center failed to report the ankle injury caused by the sabotage 
(chapter 50), further implicating them in a network of complicity and greed. Their decision to place the two fighters next to each other without proper privacy measures, such as curtains, reveals a disregard for professional ethics in favor of spectacle and profit. I would even add, the decisions from the health center’s medical staff, played a significant role in escalating the situation. By placing Joo Jaekyung and Baek Junmin next to each other post-fight, without appropriate measures like curtains to ensure separation, the health center created an environment ripe for conflict.
, (chapter 52) as the provoked champion lashed out in an unregulated setting. The decision to ignore these systemic failures and instead to suspend Joo Jaekyung suggests a deeper layer of complicity from the medical world, where doctors and nurses prioritized organizational demands and reputational interests over ethical responsibilities. Their failure to report the provocation and the ankle injury caused by the switched spray further highlights their alignment with MFC’s corrupt practices.
(chapter 47) and favored by MFC’s CEO, Baek Junmin has now been discarded, his relevance extinguished the moment he ceased to serve the organization’s agenda. 
(chapter 47) His background, combined with his visible association with MFC’s CEO, positions him as a key figure who could potentially expose the organization’s darker practices.
(chapter 49), his ultimate fate now reflects the broader cruelty and exploitation perpetuated by those in power. That’s how I realized the other signification of the cross below his left eye. The latter symbolizes his blindness in the end. The cross signifies his inability to see beyond the role he played within the system—a symbol of his naivety and misplaced confidence. Baek Junmin believed he understood the brutal reality of the fighting world, given his background in underground rings and illegal gambling. He thought his experience and cunning gave him an edge, making him untouchable or indispensable. However, his taunts to Joo Jaekyung 
(chapter 49) reveal a man who overestimated his position within the organization.
(chapter 54), it shows the athlete’s lack of reflection and insight. He hasn’t been able to discern the truth, the corruption of his “world”. This means that he needs to travel and experience a whole new world. The contrast would serve as an eye-opener for the athlete. 
(chapter 57) holds significant weight in the context of Kim Dan’s storyline, as it appears to be strategically 
(chapter 56) released shortly after the champion’s urgent request to locate him. This timing is no coincidence. Instead, it reflects a calculated effort to manipulate both the public narrative and Kim Dan’s own perception of his role and value. By introducing the anonymous person as “one of his close associates”, it implies that the champion has already moved on from the protagonist. He is not missing him at all. At the same time, it implies that within a short time, the person was able to get the athlete’s trust which stands in opposition to this scene: 
(chapter 57): his regret was not merely about using the spray but about his failure to assert himself professionally. 
(chapter 49) By complying unquestioningly with the champion’s requests, he had diminished his role, acting more like a servant than a competent physical therapist. The interview, though painful, 
(chapter 57) serves as a harsh wake-up call, forcing him to confront his own shortcomings and reevaluate his behavior.
(chapter 41), drawn boundaries, and made his expertise known. I would even add that he never felt responsible for the champion’s reputation in the media 
(chapter 36) Hence he remained passive all this time. His negligence becomes more obvious, when the media released this wave of articles: 
(chapter 52) Thus I discern a turning point in the doctor’s mentality. The last interview served as a painful wake-up call. This juxtaposition not only deepens Kim Dan’s understanding of his mistakes but also offers a model for the kind of professional he aspires to become. He can, if he wants to be in the spotlight: 
(chapter 41) In addition, while many Jinx-Philes are blaming the champion for his outburst, 
(chapter 50) rejection and
(chapter 50) accusations,
(chapter 47) his indifference and lack of professionalism. In the end, the grandmother is the reason for his lack of professionalism and neglect. 
(chapter 54) Unlike the newly hired PT, who likely has the backing of a hospital or organization, Kim Dan operates independently. This independence, while offering a degree of freedom, also makes him vulnerable. He lacks the institutional support that could shield him from the manipulative tactics of MFC. Moreover, his independence places him in direct contrast to the systemic corruption that permeates MFC and its associated entities. As someone who has already been victimized by two major deceptions—the drugged nutrition shake 
(chapter 37) and the switched spray 
(chapter 57) —Kim Dan stands as a figure who threatens to expose the cracks in MFC’s carefully constructed facade. Let’s not forget that the incident with the poisoned beverage was swept under the rug by framing haters.
Bebebisous33s' analyses in K-Dramaland and Manhwas 