This review may contain spoilers
It was an intense, layered, and emotionally complex show! From the very beginning, the show grabbed me with its dark, slow-burn tension and kept me on edge through all eight episodes. The cinematography and sound design were absolutely gorgeous, perfectly complementing the eerie, unsettling atmosphere. Every frame felt deliberate, and the way the series used color, lighting, and sound to highlight emotions and psychological states really pulled me in.What I loved most was how intricate the character dynamics were. Kim Sum was fascinating to watch: calculating, observant, and morally ambiguous in a way that made me constantly second-guess her motives. Her journey through the story, from working on her app to facing Yun-Oh directly, was compelling and terrifying at the same time. There’s a thrill in watching her interact with him because you never quite know who has the upper hand or when one of them might snap. The tension between her and Gi-Eun also added so much depth, showing how different types of trauma and emotional processing can affect relationships. Gi-Eun’s obsession with Yun-Oh, combined with her desire to prove herself as a capable cop after her accident, created a constant undercurrent of anxiety.
Yun-Oh himself was chilling but magnetic. He’s one of those characters who exudes charm and danger in equal measure, and the way he manipulated and tested the people around him kept me hooked. I found myself fascinated by the psychological cat-and-mouse game between him and Sum. The series did a brilliant job of making me question whether I was rooting for justice, revenge, or something darker altogether.
The pacing, which some might call slow, worked for me. It allowed for moments of reflection, subtle foreshadowing, and building tension to an almost unbearable degree. Even the seemingly small interactions, like the way Sum reacted to her past trauma or how Yun-Oh engaged with the AI, felt loaded with meaning. The show didn’t spoon-feed; it trusted its audience to pay attention and interpret, which I deeply appreciated.
Theories:
One of my biggest takeaways was that the story isn’t just about murder or revenge, but about connection, understanding, and the twisted ways people try to find that. Kim Sum’s final act of killing Yun-Oh felt like an ultimate gesture of twisted love. Slicing his eyes first so he wouldn’t know it was her was both cruel and tender, a merciful end to someone spiraling into a darker mental state, just like the kitten she killed at the beginning. It was an eerie but consistent metaphor for ending suffering on her own terms.
I also saw Sum as a kind of vigilante, someone who carefully calculates who deserves her attention and her actions. Everything she did, like manipulating Yun-Oh, distracting him with the AI, and carefully planning his death, felt like the work of someone methodical and unflinching. She wasn’t acting out of blind vengeance; she was orchestrating events to ensure the outcome matched her own sense of justice. The parallels to a Dexter-style vigilante were impossible to ignore.
Yun-Oh’s charm and danger were central to the story, but he wasn’t omnipotent. His emotional vulnerability toward the end, when he realized that Sum understood him in a way no one else could, humanized him slightly, making his death feel both inevitable and poignant. The interactions between Sum, Yun-Oh, and Gi-Eun highlighted the show’s core theme: people’s desperate desire for connection, acceptance, and understanding, even when it leads them into dangerous territory.
Other layers fascinated me too. Gi-Eun’s obsession with Yun-Oh made sense when considering her disability, pride, and desire for validation, yet her repeated mistakes and risky decisions reflected both trauma and ego. Corporate greed and the ethical murkiness of tech companies, especially through Samantha Jung, added a contemporary social commentary layer, showing how profit often comes before human safety.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the small symbolic losses caused by Yun-Oh: Mok-Won, the general statue, Gi-Eun’s wheelchair, Sum’s AI “Somebody”... everything he touched left a mark, tangible or psychological. Even subtle details, like Sum wearing purple to indicate fear or the way the AI recordings were used to manipulate Yun-Oh, added depth.
In the end, Somebody is a psychological exploration of obsession, morality, and what people are willing to do to feel understood, validated, and in control of their own narratives.
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