oppa_

No one is asking women characters to be “warm,” “healed,” or “perfect.”
That’s a strawman.

What people are objecting to is hypocrisy being framed as empowerment.

A character who:

cheats on her spouse,

uses sex in place of professional competence,

ignores basic legal ethics,

and collapses consent standards despite being a rape-victims’ lawyer

is not a role model by any reasonable standard—male or female.

And you’re right about one thing:
We don’t usually call male cheaters role models either.
When male characters abuse power or betray partners, they’re criticized—or clearly written as flawed. They are not shielded by “context,” “biology,” or ideology.

That’s the issue here.

If her ex kissed her without consent, that is sexual assault.
But the show then turns her submission into romance and excuses it as hormones, feelings, or destiny. That doesn’t expose damage—it normalizes it.

You can’t have it both ways:

Either consent matters, always

Or it’s optional when the narrative wants sympathy

And that double standard actively harms real victims, because it blurs lines that rape law depends on being clear.

Criticizing this isn’t anti-woman.
It’s anti-bad-writing and anti-double-standards.

Feminism is not:

excusing betrayal,

lowering ethical expectations,

or silencing criticism by labeling it “misogyny.”

Real equality means equal accountability.
If a man did this, people would call it out instantly—and rightly so.

Dramas don’t have to “fix society,” but they also don’t get a free pass to rebrand unethical behavior as progressive and shame viewers for objecting.

Calling that out is not the problem.
Pretending it’s untouchable because of gender is

Have you actually watched Episode 2?
Because it wasn’t just a kiss.

It escalated into a full sexual encounter between a married woman and her ex. Calling that “just a kiss” is straight-up minimizing what happened.

People aren’t upset over a peck on the lips. They’re reacting to infidelity, consent issues, and hypocrisy, especially given the characters involved and the context of the story

No—cheating is not “a part of life.”
Cheating is a part of some people’s choices. There’s a difference.

Normalizing betrayal is not “mature discussion,” it’s lowering standards. Just because something happens often doesn’t mean it should be accepted, excused, or brushed aside—by that logic, lying, corruption, and abuse are also “part of life,” so we should stop talking about them too.

And dismissing criticism by saying “don’t watch the drama” isn’t dialogue—it’s avoidance. If a show puts infidelity front and center and frames it as casual, inevitable, or harmless, people are absolutely allowed to critique that. That is real discussion.

Also, focusing on cheating doesn’t mean ignoring other plots.
It means recognizing that betrayal, consent, and ethics are major themes, especially in a story about lawyers, rape cases, and moral responsibility.

Some people don’t “get over” cheating because they still believe:

vows matter

consent matters

accountability matters

If that makes the discussion uncomfortable, the issue isn’t the audience—it’s the attempt to normalize behavior that many people rightfully see as a serious breach of trust.

Calling betrayal “just life” doesn’t make it deep.
It just makes it convenient.

This is exactly the problem: the drama tells us these lawyers have “10 years of experience,” but everything they do suggests they became lawyers yesterday.

Any attorney who has handled rape cases for a decade knows that duress is basic 101. When a client’s behavior suddenly changes, when they insist on “handling things their own way,” when they contradict their own interests, when they refuse help—duress is not an exotic theory, it is standard suspicion.

Asking:

“Are you being threatened?”

“Is someone forcing you?”

“Is your family in danger?”

is not heroic lawyering. It is SOP.

And you’re right:
In a rape case, trauma might explain strange behavior.
In a murder case, it should immediately set off alarms.

Yet not one of the three “experienced” attorneys considers it. Instead, the lawyer confronts the victim, pressures her, and makes the situation worse. That’s not experience—that’s negligence.

So the show wants it both ways:

They want the credibility of “10 years of experience”

But the behavior of incompetent rookies

You can’t have both.

Now add the moral collapse on top of the professional one.

We’re expected to believe:

A lawyer who defends rape victims

Sleeps with a man portrayed as a rapist

Who assaulted her knowing she was married

Cheats on her husband

Then emotionally prioritizes her dead ex over her living client

And the show still wants to frame that man as:

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly”

In the same episode where he:

Has sex with a married woman

Actively damages her marriage

Has a history of sexual violence

That is not nuance. That is narrative dishonesty.

Then comes the worst part: the framing.

If she gets pregnant, the story will likely present it as:

“Complicated”

“Bittersweet”

“Empowering”

Something the husband must accept in the name of “progress”

That’s not feminism.
That’s erasing accountability and gaslighting the audience.

Real feminism does not mean:

Excusing betrayal

Romanticizing sexual misconduct

Forcing men to absorb consequences they did not create

Or treating vows as optional when it’s inconvenient

And real legal ethics do not mean:

Trading sex for information

Defending personal lovers over clients

Ignoring clear signs of coercion

Or collapsing consent into “feelings”

At the end of the day, the issue isn’t that the characters are flawed.
The issue is that the writing rewards those flaws, reframes them as virtue, and asks the audience to applaud.

You’re not rejecting feminism.
You’re rejecting bad writing, fake professionalism, and selective morality dressed up as empowerment.

And that criticism is completely fair.

This excuse collapses even faster when you remember who she is.

She is a lawyer who defends rape victims. That means she understands—better than most—the difference between lack of consent, coercion, and conscious choice.

If the initial kiss happened knowing she was married and unwilling, that was sexual assault. Full stop.
But the moment she chose to continue, gave active consent, and participated, it ceased to be assault and became a decision. Trauma does not erase accountability for subsequent voluntary actions.

Trying to blur that line is dangerous.
It undermines actual rape victims by turning every bad decision into “delayed consent”.

And this is exactly why the ovulation excuse is offensive—not just morally, but professionally.
If a rape-defense lawyer argues that hormones override agency, she is indirectly saying:

Consent is negotiable

Self-control is optional

Responsibility disappears under biological pressure

That logic destroys the foundation of consent law.

Also, let’s be clear:
Acting on impulse is not the same as being forced.

If we accept “biology made me do it,” then:

Infidelity becomes excusable

Abuse becomes situational

Crime becomes chemical

That’s not how law works. That’s not how ethics work.

And yes—this does show a lack of respect:

for her marriage

for her husband

and for herself

Not because she is a woman—but because she is a human being who knows better and chose otherwise.

However, the conclusion should not be “she’s an animal.”
The correct conclusion is worse:

She is fully human, fully capable of restraint, fully aware of consequences—and still chose betrayal.

That’s why human rights exist: because humans are moral agents, not because they are slaves to instinct.

Reducing women to biology doesn’t excuse cheating.
It insults women, weakens accountability, and weaponizes science to justify selfishness.

There is no empowerment in that—only avoidance of responsibility.

Kang Shin Jae is literally a nepo baby in the show—a CEO of a “pro bono” firm that survives only because it’s fully funded by her mother. Take that funding away and the firm collapses. That’s not leadership; that’s inherited insulation from consequences.

Add to that a 50-year-old character written like a rebellious schoolgirl—cheering, posing, playing activist with her friends—while the show expects us to believe she’s a serious CEO running a law firm. Is that what we’re calling leadership now?

Meanwhile, the same firm that claims to “defend women” can’t even write its own female lawyers with basic agency. Hwang Hyeon Jin is shown tolerating sexual advances from her ex during a work meeting, cheating on her husband who’s waiting at home, and freezing into submission when she’s kissed without consent.

The irony is hard to miss: a show about protecting women, written so that its women repeatedly fail to protect even their own bodies or boundaries. If that’s supposed to represent strength, leadership, or empowerment, the bar is set painfully low

Kang Shin Jae is literally a nepo baby in the show—a CEO of a “pro bono” firm that survives only because it’s fully funded by her mother. Take that funding away and the firm collapses. That’s not leadership; that’s inherited insulation from consequences.

Add to that a 50-year-old character written like a rebellious schoolgirl—cheering, posing, playing activist with her friends—while the show expects us to believe she’s a serious CEO running a law firm. Is that what we’re calling leadership now?

Meanwhile, the same firm that claims to “defend women” can’t even write its own female lawyers with basic agency. Hwang Hyeon Jin is shown tolerating sexual advances from her ex during a work meeting, cheating on her husband who’s waiting at home, and freezing into submission when she’s kissed without consent.

The irony is hard to miss: a show about protecting women, written so that its women repeatedly fail to protect even their own bodies or boundaries. If that’s supposed to represent strength, leadership, or empowerment, the bar is set painfully low

The premiere of Honour attempts to sell itself as a bold manifesto for female empowerment, but within sixty minutes, it manages to undermine its own message through staggering hypocrisy and tired tropes. The show introduces us to a trio of "independent" women, but a closer look reveals that their independence is either bankrolled by others or used as a shield for moral failure.

The "Independent" CEO

First, we have Kang Sin Jae. While the show paints her as the visionary CEO of a pro bono law firm, the illusion of the self-made woman shatters immediately upon the revelation that her mother is the one holding the purse strings. There is a fundamental disconnect in trying to portray a character as a rebel when she is essentially a "nepo-boss" playing office. The "rebellious old woman" act feels less like a stand against the patriarchy and more like a refusal to grow up, with her behavior mimicking a schoolgirl rather than a serious legal mind.

The Hypocrisy of Hwang Hyeon Jin

The most egregious failure of the premiere lies with Hwang Hyeon Jin. The production description builds her up as an "elegant, fiery lawyer" who "resists anything that goes against her principles." However, the pilot episode immediately proves this to be a lie, portraying her instead as a textbook example of unprofessionalism.

Hyeon Jin is presented as a champion for rape victims, yet the show creates a bizarre double standard regarding her own "principles":

The Professionalism Paradox: The show explicitly demonstrates why this character cannot be trusted with a professional work-life. Hyeon Jin chooses to visit her ex-boyfriend’s house at night under the guise of "discussing work." This framing suggests that her career is merely a backdrop for providing sexual favors or pursuing personal whims. It raises a devastating question: can a woman who uses her body to "work around" her personal life truly be called a professional? By depicting her work meetings as precursors to infidelity, the show plays into the very regressive stereotypes that suggest women cannot separate their emotions or bodies from their offices.

The Cheating Double Standard: The narrative frames her extramarital affair with her ex-lover as a side-effect of her "working woman" persona. When confronted, she resorts to the weak defense of "not being in her right mind." This is a continuous lie. Cheating is not a single accidental moment; it is a series of active, conscious choices—from going to the house, to the physical escalation, to the completion of the act while knowing her loyal husband is waiting at home. She looked very much "in her mind" when making these choices. The show’s attempt to make the audience root for her "regret" after the fact is insulting, especially since she didn't stop the encounter midway once her "mind" supposedly returned.

The Consent Contradiction: For a character who defends victims of sexual violence, her interaction with her ex-boyfriend is alarming. She is portrayed as submissive, essentially allowing herself to be "forced" into a situation she later claims to regret, all while pretending to be a legal shield for female victims. This suggests the show believes wrongdoing has no consequences as long as the lead is a "pseudo-feminist" woman.

Final Verdict: Fake "Woke" Garbage

Honour claims to be about strength, but it reeks of "woke" garbage and fake feminism. It presents characters who are morally inconsistent and structurally dependent on the systems they claim to hate. By justifying a wife's betrayal and lack of professional ethics as "cool" or "empowering" while condemning men for the same, the show isn't empowering women—it’s portraying them as untrustworthy and hypocritical.

If the goal was to show why some people still hold regressive views about women in the workplace, this script is doing a perfect job of providing the wrong evidence.

I don’t need anyone’s permission to comment or share my opinion.
And no, she wasn’t “blind” — she was drunk, which already makes it a forced situation. Consent given under intoxication is not consent.
Please don’t comment on a story you clearly haven’t even watched properly.
I’m exercising my freedom of speech, not asking for approval. If my comment bothers you, you’re free to ignore it instead of trying to police what others can or cannot say.

thanks

As I recall, nobody in the drama even mentions unprotected sex, and that’s exactly the problem. The story doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t place responsibility on the male lead, and certainly doesn’t show him apologizing for it.
He’s rich—yet he couldn’t “afford” a cheap condom? (Sarcasm intended.)

And about both of them being drunk:
Two drunk people having sex isn’t automatically okay. Consent becomes murky when judgment is impaired by alcohol. If only one of them were drunk, most people would call that rape. But because both are intoxicated, the show treats it like it’s fine and normal. That’s a dangerous message, and it’s exactly the kind of plot device that lets real-world rapists exploit loopholes in law and perception.

If you want to see someone who actually articulates this problem more clearly in a drama review, watch this:
➡ https://kisskh.at/profile/oppa_/review/504896

It explains what I’m trying to say—this dynamic is not minor fluff, it’s about how responsibility, consent, and accountability are being portrayed.

I’ll decide where I post my opinion—review or comments. I have the right to critique a drama however I see fit. Categorizing my opinion into sections you’re comfortable with doesn’t invalidate it.

Now, about the story itself.

After 4 episodes they’re not married, yes—but his first response to the pregnancy wasn’t “what do you want?” or “how can I support you?”
It was “I’ll marry you.”
Not a question. A declaration. That already frames control, not choice.

You keep saying it’s “her choice,” but choice isn’t just words.
Does she actually have freedom?

Can she choose another man if she wants?

Can she continue her career without his interference?

Can she live her private life without being monitored or questioned by him?

What’s shown so far says no.

He inserts himself into her life, disrupts her work, questions her relationships, and claims emotional authority over her body and future—when they aren’t even friends, let alone partners.

And the biggest issue you’re overlooking: he didn’t use protection without telling her.
That isn’t a minor flaw. That’s a serious ethical violation.

Then the drama reframes him as “supportive” because he helps her through the suffering he directly caused. Supporting someone through consequences you created doesn’t erase the harm.

It’s like this:
If I cut off your legs and then offer to carry you for the rest of your life, does that make me a good person?
Especially when you never wanted me—a stranger—in your life at all?

No.
You don’t get moral credit for “support” that creates lifelong dependency and strips someone of autonomy.

The FL is forced into a cruel moral dilemma:

carry the pregnancy and sacrifice her future

or abort and carry lifelong emotional guilt

Then the ML says “it’s your choice” while standing there with expectations, pressure, and implied judgment. That’s not freedom—that’s emotional coercion disguised as kindness.

This isn’t about the ML being imperfect.
It’s about the narrative normalizing deeply problematic behavior and asking viewers to accept it as romance because he later acts gentle.

People are free to enjoy the drama.
But criticism of its themes, power dynamics, and ethics belongs in a review, not buried in a comments section just because it’s uncomfortable.

so many paid 10/10 reviews

It’s just a drama” isn’t a free pass. Wake up—this isn’t a medieval fantasy or some god-realm costume show. It’s set in the modern world, using real-life jobs, laws, and relationships.
If the story is based on real-life scenarios, it will be judged by real-life standards. You can’t defend harmful behavior as romance and then hide behind fiction when people call it out.
Normalizing toxic relationships, excusing abuse, or framing lack of consent as destiny isn’t harmless entertainment. Stories shape mindsets.
Enjoy drama, but wake up from the fantasy that every toxic relationship is “true love.” Drama doesn’t erase basic morality.

Thanks for understanding my point — I really appreciate that.
And yes, I completely agree that having babies in itself is not wrong at all. South Korea genuinely does need to increase its birth rate if it wants to sustain its society and diaspora in the long run. That concern is valid.
What feels deeply wrong, though, is how some of these dramas choose to portray it. Impregnating a stranger because “things just happened,” not using protection — when condoms are hardly expensive even for a poor CEO or a powerful president — and then framing the pregnancy as fate or romance is irresponsible storytelling.
Pressuring a woman to carry the pregnancy out of obligation, fear, or social pressure is even worse. And showing her abandoning her life, dreams, and career as if that’s the natural or noble outcome feels like a very outdated, almost medieval mindset — reducing women to child-making machines rather than full human beings with agency.
So yes, romance audiences may enjoy it without questioning the logic, but that doesn’t mean the messaging isn’t problematic. Wanting more babies is understandable; promoting it through coercion, negligence, and glorified power imbalance is not.

Well I think you don't understand it
She was two timing him(her husband) when she was dating her bf (ml)
They got in accident he becomes handicapped trying to save her,
She lost her memory
And her father married her to him, and she married him to take responsibility for his situation
Then when she meet her ex, and regained her memory she started cheating and then abandon her husband,
They were husband and wife for years and she had no empathy or sympathy for her husband
And no regard for father son relationship her son and husband had built
Just because she found biological father of her son...
She and her strong rich boyfriend bullied an handicapped man
And his wife and son were stolen....

yes and i saw a two timer cheating on her handicap husband

then you must be one of crew... or you can help me understand why there soul swap make no difference at all.

Yes I can see that, keep pretending...

Don't need your advice.