A-J

Let’s be real — Abyss is kind of a hot mess. But it’s the kind of mess that feels like it was made with love. Like someone knocked over a shelf of fantasy tropes, mystery thrillers, and soft-hearted rom-coms, scooped everything into a script, and then said, “Let’s go with it.” And weirdly? I was in.

From the jump, the premise is absolutely bananas: two people die, come back to life with totally different appearances based on the purity of their souls, thanks to a glowing marble of alien origin called the Abyss. (Yes. Really.) It sounds like something out of a late-night writing prompt — but the show doesn’t try to justify itself with hard sci-fi logic. It just shrugs, smiles, and leans all the way in. And because the cast buys into it, so did I.

Park Bo-young is, unsurprisingly, the emotional anchor here. She’s got this rare ability to make the most bizarre plot feel rooted. Her Go Se-yeon is sharp, sarcastic, grieving, brave — a full person, not just a vehicle for the plot to drag around. Even when the writing doesn’t quite catch up to what she’s capable of, she elevates it. She’s the kind of actress who can cry without making it a performance and crack a joke without chasing the laugh. Just magnetic.

And Ahn Hyo-seop? Honestly, I didn’t expect to care for his character as much as I did. At first, his awkwardness felt like a placeholder — like he was still figuring out how to hold his body onscreen — but then it clicked. That doofy sincerity became his superpower. His Cha Min isn’t some cool, brooding reincarnated mystery man. He’s a soft-hearted goofball who got a new face and didn’t quite know what to do with it. And that made the romance land in a way that was surprisingly affecting. Not fireworks — just steady warmth.

Plot-wise, though? It’s a minefield. The rules of the Abyss change depending on the needs of the episode. The thriller elements — while occasionally gripping — can feel stapled onto the love story, rather than woven through it. And there are entire stretches where the pacing stutters like the writers needed one more pass at the story map. But through all of that, I was never bored. Because when Abyss hits an emotional beat, it really hits. Grief, guilt, longing — all sneak up on you when you’re busy trying to follow the logic of soul-based resurrection.

It’s not what I’d call a great drama in the traditional sense. It doesn’t have the elegance or tight storytelling of top-tier fare. But it’s so weirdly earnest that I couldn’t help but love it a little. It’s like a scrappy little show that just wants to be taken seriously — and somehow, through charm and heart alone, earns it.

So yeah, the rules make no sense. The twists are occasionally wild. But by the end, I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I was thinking about second chances. About how love can endure even through the most ridiculous circumstances. About how sometimes, you don’t need perfect — you just need honest.