Critica sin filtro

Dear X starts off brilliantly — a sharp, elegant dissection of ambition, trauma, and emotional manipulation.
Baek Ah Jin, played with surgical precision in the first two episodes, feels like a modern antiheroine shaped by pain rather than redemption.
Her cold, calculated demeanor suggests a story about psychological power, not simple revenge.

But by episode 3, the series stumbles.
The script mistakes complexity for excess, turning what could’ve been a chilling, simple act into an over-engineered mess.
Ah Jin stops being formidable and becomes theatrical — a strategist buried under implausible coincidences.

Episode 4 tries to recover tension through a police investigation, but ends up draining it instead.
Ah Jin, once fascinating, now looks overacted and hollow, her silence replaced by melodrama.

Visually, Dear X remains stylish — the rain, cold tones, and restrained pacing still work — yet the emotional impact evaporates.
It had all the ingredients for a story about moral decay and ambition, but it collapses under its own artifice.

Not terrible, but uneven: it begins with fire and ends with smoke.
For now, Dear X feels more like a promise than a revelation.