Dy Victor

From what I’ve seen in the previews, they often mislead us.
It would be a shame, because when good expectations aren’t fulfilled, it naturally creates some frustration among the audience.

But everything suggests that the scene already shows they’re in a closer and more mature relationship. You can see that Ha Gyeong’s bed is now a double bed, and I think the headboard was made from their old room divider, because you can still see the holes Ha Gyeong made during her moments of longing.

So I’m rooting for it to be a baby as well. Actually, I’m greedy — I hope it’s twins.

I think I’m the only one who was actually happy that the series decided to extend for two more episodes. Even though there aren’t many loose ends left to resolve and some of them may seem a bit superficial (the observatory, the protests, Ha Gyeong’s father), I believe romantic stories need time to show what a couple’s life is really like—whether dating, engaged, or even married. Sometimes this part is shown so quickly that it feels as if the romance ends once the couple gets together, and that’s not how it is at all. There are so many nuances to explore.

So I’m hopeful that in these final two episodes, after everything this couple went through to be together, we’ll get to see Ha Gyeong and Doha’s loving and playful side.

Truth! The attacks aren’t only aimed at the drama, but also at the people who are here talking about what they like in it, mentioning the elements that made the drama meaningful to them…

It’s so bitter and petty.

Feel free to criticize the plot as much as you want, but don’t mock or attack with irony those who enjoyed it, who took something good from it, and who are simply happy with the story.

It’s winter in Patan. And finally, my heart feels warm.

Episode 10 was beautiful.

Ha Gyeong seemed healed and more confident. It was good to see that she stayed strong while waiting for him. And that when the longing became unbearable, she decided to go after him. That shows some character development. I hope the author keeps building on that.

It seems that now we’ll have to witness Doha’s healing. Winter has arrived. Maybe summer was the escape he had from his suffering. Now, by her side, he won’t be able to hide.
I’m curious to know what Doha’s pains are and how he will be healed as well.

Wow! You just reminded me of the most beautiful allegory in the entire story — one that I completely overlooked.

How could I have been so inattentive?

I don’t know if you remember, but in their youth, Do Young was stargazing with Doha and Ha Gyeong. They were trying to spot a set of three stars: Vega (the Weaver), Altair (the mortal Cowherd), and Deneb.
Do Young said that they were those three stars. He said that Ha Gyeong and Doha were the Weaver and the Cowherd, and that he was Deneb.

In Chinese mythology, the Weaver and the Cowherd love each other, but they can only meet once a year — the single moment when Deneb forms the bridge that allows the lovers to reunite.
Do Young isn’t the one who separates them; he is the one who brings them together (or will bring them together)…

And if you read the full myth, you’ll see traces of the Weaver’s and the Cowherd’s personalities in Ha Gyeong and Doha. It was so subtle and so poetic.
This drama is filled with such beautiful metaphors.

I hadn’t considered the possibility of it being the father. That would be very interesting and would fit perfectly with the character’s healing arc. It also aligns with the story’s premise of having no true villains — where the characters themselves become their own antagonists.

I don’t think Do Young is alive. But there is still a mystery surrounding his death that could either deepen the bond between the main couple or create yet another rupture.

But it’s perfectly normal for her to act more mature and natural around someone she has no romantic interest in. With the lawyer, she behaves formally; she isn’t driven by feelings, sensations, or a shared life story.

It’s completely different with Doha, with whom she can be her true self — the Ha Gyeong who makes a six-fingered glove and thinks that’s normal.

Besides, there’s no way she could act naturally around someone for whom she has had frustrated romantic feelings and a long history. Everything becomes more tangled, more intense, right on the surface. With Doha, she can express herself freely and say whatever comes to mind…

When Doha and Ha Gyeong are finally able to trust, accept, and fully live the feelings they have for each other, then their relationship will bloom and mature. For now, they’re in the raw battle of emotions.
If she wants a peaceful, monotonous, emotionless life, the lawyer would be a good choice.
But if she wants butterflies in her stomach, a racing heart, and intensity, only Doha can give her that.

I like the metaphors and poetic elements in this drama. They are subtle and woven throughout the entire story.
One that particularly caught my attention is the fact that Ha Gyeong’s hands are always cold, even in summer, and how this is actually the physical manifestation of her feelings of loss and fear. I love the scene where Doha shows he understands this and simply warms and comforts her, letting her know that he is there beside her—there for her.

I like the letter from the tree and how it acknowledges that Doha still doesn’t have a stable home or a true sense of belonging—and how it wishes for him to have that someday.

I appreciate the metaphor of the six-fingered glove. It proves that Ha Gyeong is not a young woman with an ordinary personality or mind. She is different, she has her quirks, and she is driven far more by emotion than by reason.

I like how Doha knows he is rational about everything—except when it comes to her. She throws him off balance, and he just needs to learn how to handle those feelings.

I love how her heart begins to beat louder and stronger as the walls around it fall, one by one. And how the sound becomes audible, just like life around her.

Song Ha Gyeong and Doha are not the kind of couple we’re used to seeing in romances… It creates a certain discomfort, but to me, that’s a good thing. It breaks away from the clichés.

I didn’t understand the part about the alcohol. Doha didn’t want her to drink — he tried to stop her in every possible way. She said that if he wanted to know the truth, he should let her drink. And he did. He didn’t force her to say anything. She was the one who chose to hide behind alcohol. And that’s nothing new in dramas.

Knowing that she didn’t want him to leave calmed him down. That was good! He had been suffering because he thought he was now just a guest, or someone disposable.

As for the injury, his assistant called her only to say that the meeting had been canceled because he had gotten hurt. He went home. If he went home, it was because it wasn’t serious… but when someone we care about gets hurt, even if it’s just a scratch, we’re going to worry.

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Strangely enough, I don’t feel any pity for the lawyer. From the very beginning — ever since the tree letter — he has known that Doha and Ha-Gyeong like each other and that their story is still unresolved. He chose to be there of his own free will.

He could have waited for things to settle, or waited for the “summer to end,” before asking Ha-Gyeong to date him. But he decided to play anyway. And Doha warned him that he wouldn’t play fair to win the woman he loves… Everything is out in the open. No one there is innocent.

I think we’ll have the cute moments sprinkled among a lot of pain. From the teaser, it looks like we’re finally going to learn more about Doha’s wounds and traumas. Now it’s his “Pandora’s box” that will be opened — and I’ve been waiting for that.

I liked episode 8 so much that I’m going to hold on to the feelings it gave me throughout the entire week. And not every drama makes me feel this way…

I’m also going to watch episodes 7 and 8 again. I feel like there are things between the lines that I need to pay attention to in order to notice the nuances of these two “fallen heroes.”

I think that after eight episodes, it has become clear that it was never the author’s intention to portray Doha and Ha-Gyeong as perfectly proper, flawless humans. They are full of imperfections. And Doha told the lawyer that, when it came to Ha-Gyeong, he wasn’t going to play fair. The lawyer was the one who took the risk by stepping into the middle of a relationship that was obviously unresolved. He was the one who chose to ask Ha-Gyeong to date him and to take the risk of having his heart broken.

Ha-Gyeong didn’t kiss Doha. She was kissed. And yes, she didn’t pull away. But she was at the height of her fear, and standing right in front of her was the man she truly likes. So I don’t think it’s fair to demand righteousness and coherence from her. She is at the peak of her emotions.

Episodes 7 and 8 were really good. I decided to watch them only once both had been released, and I think it was a good decision. Although I found some moments in episode 7 frustrating, I realized that episode 8 made everything clear.

Song Ha-Gyeong is not the kind of heroine we’re used to seeing in romance dramas. She works almost as her own antagonist. She constantly fights her own demons and insecurities, hiding her true feelings and desires beneath that hard exterior.

She is confused and, perhaps at times, unsure of what she really wants — she’s raw and deeply human.

Doha is one of the few people who truly know her. That’s why he is able to understand her, and life ended up making him fall in love with her.

Doha is persistent because he knows he must break through all those layers of trauma and insecurity if he wants to get close to her again. And even though he is just as broken, just as human and flawed as she is — and sometimes makes the wrong choices in his attempts to win her over — I can still see how genuine and real he is.

In these two episodes, I laughed a lot, got emotional, and, for the first time, truly grasped the reason behind the love between them.

I hope the last four episodes keep the same rhythm and bring them the understanding and healing they need.

If you already have this syndrome without the two of them having had any romantic interaction, imagine how you’ll be after episodes 7 and 8? Get ready!
But I don’t think the author would make such a drastic turn. Not when the opening theme and the cover of the novel feature only the main “couple.”

It will be the focus of episodes 7 and 8. We’ll see a pink-colored romance between Ha-gyeong and the lawyer. And we’ll see Doha going crazy with jealousy. They will try to make Doha’s jealousy look funny… I’m curious to see how that’s going to work.

Summary of the Official Synopsis for Episodes 7 and 8 of Last Summer

Episodes 7 and 8 show that, after the painful distance that grows between Doha and Ha-gyeong, she finds unexpected comfort in Su-hyeok. He begins to listen to her worries with sincerity, offers support, and treats her with gentleness, creating a lighter atmosphere between them. Su-hyeok does not hide his romantic interest and, after his confession, their relationship progresses quickly — even leading to a “pink date” that leaves the audience unsure about the direction of the love triangle.

Meanwhile, Doha — who watches the two grow closer — is swallowed by intense and unavoidable jealousy. Usually cold and composed, he completely loses his self-control when he sees Ha-gyeong smiling and relaxing beside another man. The mere sight of Su-hyeok looking at her with tenderness eats away at him, and the need to know what the two are doing together leaves him consumed with worry and frustration.

The emotions of the three begin to intertwine even more deeply, creating a true “emotional storm.” The episodes promise to show how this new dynamic shakes the hearts of the characters and may become the major turning point in Doha and Ha-gyeong’s relationship — while Su-hyeok emerges as a real contender, not just a temporary obstacle.
So, did you like what awaits us in tomorrow’s episode?

The lawyer is, by far, the character who causes me the greatest discomfort in this narrative. There is something undeniably peculiar about him — to use the gentlest possible characterization.
He is fully aware that Doha loves Ha Gyeong, and that the entire matter involving the house has nothing to do with the property itself, but rather with his attempt to draw closer to her once more.

He then meets Ha Gyeong during the tree dispute. He knows the contents of the letter, he understands the emotional significance Doha holds in her life, and he is aware that she is in love with Doha.
Despite this, and despite knowing that the two are living under the same roof, that Doha is openly courting her, and that she carries deep emotional wounds stemming from her past, what does he do with all this information?
He proceeds to ask her to enter a relationship with him — and even claims that dating him would make her “an adult.”

This is profoundly unrealistic. He knows, beyond any doubt, that Ha Gyeong is not in a state to open her heart to anyone. She cannot even bring herself to do so with Doha — the very man she loves.
He understands that he would serve merely as an emotional escape, a relationship built on avoidance rather than genuine affection. And one must ask: who would willingly accept such a role?

Moreover, he does not seem truly in love. His behavior resembles mere curiosity, which only heightens the sense of strangeness surrounding him.

Doha was written in a far more balanced manner by the screenwriter than Song Ha Gyeong.
He is portrayed as significantly more humanized within the narrative. This is so evident that most viewers have grown far more weary of Ha Gyeong’s behavior than of his — and this has nothing to do with misogyny. Not in the slightest.

His flaws include being controlling (believing he knows what is best for others — the root of the lie concerning his brother) and being intrusive (an excessive inclination to fix things according to his own standards).
His strengths are equally notable: his love language is expressed through care and acts of service; he is optimistic, a brilliant architect, charming, and protective of those he loves — to name just a few.

The screenwriter failed to grant Ha Gyeong the same level of nuance.
On screen, we see her — even from childhood — as irritable, tense, and explosive. She does not articulate her emotions; instead, she shouts and tells people to leave. She has endured considerable suffering and has strong reasons to remain guarded, yet her character has been reduced to sheer bitterness. It lacks the vulnerability that enables the audience to connect with a character’s pain. Bitterness alone does not evoke empathy.

In short, the imbalance in the “aesthetic” of their personalities is excessively stark.
Doha desires too much.
She desires nothing.
Doha seeks dialogue.
She refuses to listen.
Doha wants to mend.
She wants to break…

This dynamic undermines any possibility of genuine chemistry between them.
Their few moments of past tenderness are insufficient to make the romance shine on screen. There are almost no meaningful conversations from their youth.

As adults, their gazes contrast profoundly: Doha looks at her with love, hope, yearning, tenderness, and desire.
Her gaze conveys only pain and distance.

The bond established through the trees and the dog is far too fragile.

Nevertheless, perhaps we will be surprised in the final six episodes.
I certainly hope so, as the premise of the story was quite promising.

Do you believe the screenwriter will be able to untangle, in a convincing and non-superficial way, the mess this story has become up to episode 6? They only have half of the plot left to deliver the protagonists’ healing and emotional growth.
My disappointment comes from the teaser for episode 7 — that could be catastrophic if poorly executed.
Anyway, let’s see how it turns out.