Her obsession and where her money goes is explained in the storyline.I think what you consider unrealistic and…
I have nothing against harmless fangirling that doesn’t hurt anyone. Supporting an idol with your own money and time is a personal choice. My issue is with the degree of denial, especially considering Sena is portrayed as a highly mature, accomplished adult—a senior lawyer and partner at a firm, not a naive intern. Someone at that level should be capable of separating an idol image from a real human being. Idols aren’t imaginary or morally perfect beings. They’re real people with flaws—capable of lying, committing crimes, dating, drinking, having sex, or making bad choices. Being her favorite idol doesn’t automatically grant him innocence or immunity from scrutiny. That’s why it feels inconsistent that she’s shocked by things like him having a girlfriend or drinking with friends. Idols aren’t holy figures. They eat, poop, cry, drink, date, and live messy human lives like everyone else. Enjoying fandom is fine—but blind idealization, especially from a supposedly rational adult professional, is where it becomes hard to accept.
I appreciate the effort you put into your review — but the problem isn’t that people “lack critical thinking.” It’s that they simply don’t agree with your interpretation, and that should be okay.
You argue a lot about autonomy, tolerance, and human rights — but then treat anyone who dislikes the show’s themes as ignorant, reactionary, or morally flawed. That’s not defending justice. That’s deciding your worldview is the only legitimate one.
Freedom of speech doesn’t only protect opinions you approve of. It also protects discomfort, disagreement, and criticism — as long as it isn’t targeted hate or calls for harm. Many people aren’t saying “these people shouldn’t exist.” They’re saying: “I don’t like how these topics are handled in this drama.” That’s valid.
Not everyone wants politics, activism, or heavy moral messaging in entertainment. Not everyone reads the same symbolism the same way. And disliking a show doesn’t automatically mean they want to control anyone’s life.
You accuse others of “pushing an agenda,” but your review also pushes one — just in the opposite direction. That’s fine. We all have beliefs. But dismissing every criticism as bigotry or bad faith turns discussion into a moral lecture instead of conversation.
You like the show. Others don’t. Both can be true.
Critique isn’t oppression, and disagreement isn’t hate.
A Story That Reinforces Superstition Instead of Challenging It
The drama centers on a minor girl labeled a “witch” because unfortunate events occur around her. Instead of questioning superstition or exploring empathy, the narrative leans into cruelty. For a modern society, this feels regressive and disappointing. The female lead, played by a capable young actress, is treated as an outcast and scapegoat when the story could have explored compassion, trauma, and resilience.
A Misleading Premise and Hollow Romance
The synopsis suggests the FL remembers the male lead, Lee Dong Jin, from high school — yet after six episodes, she doesn’t recognize him at all. Their supposed “connection” doesn’t exist. She interacts more with other characters than with him, and nothing about the relationship feels earned. If the show later claims this is “love,” it won’t feel believable.
The pacing makes this worse. More than halfway through a 10-episode drama, we are still stuck in flashbacks, with almost no meaningful progress. A balanced structure between past and present would have served the story far better.
The Male Lead: Obsession Disguised as Romance
Calling Lee Dong Jin a romantic lead feels misleading. He hasn’t built a relationship with the FL — he’s simply collecting information about her life from a distance. His behavior is invasive, cold, and analytical, treating her like a research subject. Sharing this information with professors and colleagues without her consent only makes it worse.
This isn’t love. It’s obsession — and the show frames it as intellectual curiosity or emotional depth, which is troubling.
The Female Lead: A Side Character in Her Own Story
Despite being the supposed protagonist, the FL receives shockingly little focus. Her feelings, fears, and inner world are barely explored. Instead of telling her story, the drama keeps centering the ML’s perspective, reducing her to an object of fascination rather than a human being.
Beautifully Shot — But Morally Confusing
Yes, the visuals are polished. But great cinematography can’t save a script that normalizes stalking and strips agency from its heroine. By presenting obsession as devotion and ignoring issues of consent, the drama sends a harmful message.
Well I liked this drama for atleast showing the hard side of korean corporate culture.
**Well, for me C-dramas are a huge ocean — you really have to fish out the good ones. You’ll definitely run into more useless dramas than useful ones, but when you find something great, it really shines.
My all-time favorite Chinese movie is Better Days (2019). It’s on another level. And Ode to Joy season 1 and 2 are also top tier for me — it’s about five women living on the same floor of an apartment building: a rich brat, a successful CFO, two struggling young girls, and one poor HR manager.
Well I liked this drama for atleast showing the hard side of korean corporate culture.
**Well, there’s a difference between what I said about that movie and Nice to Not Meet You. In the movie I suggested, the ML clearly acknowledges he’s older — he isn’t hiding it or acting childish.
But in Nice to Not Meet You, the ML behaves like a teenager even though he’s 52 in real life. And off-screen he’s dating the ex-wife of the Samsung chairman… yet in the drama he plays this cutesy high-school-boy type.
So when you said he doesn’t suit her in the movie I suggested — that’s actually the whole point. Other people in their world might see them as an odd couple. It’s not for us to judge; it’s their relationship. We’re just observing their story, not deciding who “fits.”**
Well I liked this drama for atleast showing the hard side of korean corporate culture.
Well, as for Japanese movies, I personally find them lacking when it comes to emotional connection. Their characters are so polite, reserved, or indirect that sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between being honest and just being socially “proper.” Because of that, the emotions don’t always land for me.
For emotional depth, I think Korean directors and actors do a much better job. Korean actors are expressive — their facial expressions, body language, even the way they hold silence feels intentional and alive. Japanese actors, at least for me, come across a bit dull or too restrained in comparison. That’s why I usually connect more with Korean romance and drama overall.
From his pov of view his father was greatest husband.
My issue is with the degree of denial, especially considering Sena is portrayed as a highly mature, accomplished adult—a senior lawyer and partner at a firm, not a naive intern. Someone at that level should be capable of separating an idol image from a real human being.
Idols aren’t imaginary or morally perfect beings. They’re real people with flaws—capable of lying, committing crimes, dating, drinking, having sex, or making bad choices. Being her favorite idol doesn’t automatically grant him innocence or immunity from scrutiny.
That’s why it feels inconsistent that she’s shocked by things like him having a girlfriend or drinking with friends. Idols aren’t holy figures. They eat, poop, cry, drink, date, and live messy human lives like everyone else.
Enjoying fandom is fine—but blind idealization, especially from a supposedly rational adult professional, is where it becomes hard to accept.
You argue a lot about autonomy, tolerance, and human rights — but then treat anyone who dislikes the show’s themes as ignorant, reactionary, or morally flawed. That’s not defending justice. That’s deciding your worldview is the only legitimate one.
Freedom of speech doesn’t only protect opinions you approve of. It also protects discomfort, disagreement, and criticism — as long as it isn’t targeted hate or calls for harm. Many people aren’t saying “these people shouldn’t exist.” They’re saying: “I don’t like how these topics are handled in this drama.” That’s valid.
Not everyone wants politics, activism, or heavy moral messaging in entertainment. Not everyone reads the same symbolism the same way. And disliking a show doesn’t automatically mean they want to control anyone’s life.
You accuse others of “pushing an agenda,” but your review also pushes one — just in the opposite direction. That’s fine. We all have beliefs. But dismissing every criticism as bigotry or bad faith turns discussion into a moral lecture instead of conversation.
You like the show. Others don’t. Both can be true.
Critique isn’t oppression, and disagreement isn’t hate.
I was expecting them to have some hardcore Intercourse middle of battlefield
The drama centers on a minor girl labeled a “witch” because unfortunate events occur around her. Instead of questioning superstition or exploring empathy, the narrative leans into cruelty. For a modern society, this feels regressive and disappointing. The female lead, played by a capable young actress, is treated as an outcast and scapegoat when the story could have explored compassion, trauma, and resilience.
A Misleading Premise and Hollow Romance
The synopsis suggests the FL remembers the male lead, Lee Dong Jin, from high school — yet after six episodes, she doesn’t recognize him at all. Their supposed “connection” doesn’t exist. She interacts more with other characters than with him, and nothing about the relationship feels earned. If the show later claims this is “love,” it won’t feel believable.
The pacing makes this worse. More than halfway through a 10-episode drama, we are still stuck in flashbacks, with almost no meaningful progress. A balanced structure between past and present would have served the story far better.
The Male Lead: Obsession Disguised as Romance
Calling Lee Dong Jin a romantic lead feels misleading. He hasn’t built a relationship with the FL — he’s simply collecting information about her life from a distance. His behavior is invasive, cold, and analytical, treating her like a research subject. Sharing this information with professors and colleagues without her consent only makes it worse.
This isn’t love. It’s obsession — and the show frames it as intellectual curiosity or emotional depth, which is troubling.
The Female Lead: A Side Character in Her Own Story
Despite being the supposed protagonist, the FL receives shockingly little focus. Her feelings, fears, and inner world are barely explored. Instead of telling her story, the drama keeps centering the ML’s perspective, reducing her to an object of fascination rather than a human being.
Beautifully Shot — But Morally Confusing
Yes, the visuals are polished. But great cinematography can’t save a script that normalizes stalking and strips agency from its heroine. By presenting obsession as devotion and ignoring issues of consent, the drama sends a harmful message.
Disagreeing doesn’t mean enforcing. It just means… disagreeing.
go produce your own dramas.
focus on lee bo jin marriage life ( sugercoated)
My all-time favorite Chinese movie is Better Days (2019). It’s on another level.
And Ode to Joy season 1 and 2 are also top tier for me — it’s about five women living on the same floor of an apartment building:
a rich brat, a successful CFO, two struggling young girls, and one poor HR manager.
In the movie I suggested, the ML clearly acknowledges he’s older — he isn’t hiding it or acting childish.
But in Nice to Not Meet You, the ML behaves like a teenager even though he’s 52 in real life. And off-screen he’s dating the ex-wife of the Samsung chairman… yet in the drama he plays this cutesy high-school-boy type.
So when you said he doesn’t suit her in the movie I suggested — that’s actually the whole point. Other people in their world might see them as an odd couple. It’s not for us to judge; it’s their relationship. We’re just observing their story, not deciding who “fits.”**
For emotional depth, I think Korean directors and actors do a much better job. Korean actors are expressive — their facial expressions, body language, even the way they hold silence feels intentional and alive. Japanese actors, at least for me, come across a bit dull or too restrained in comparison. That’s why I usually connect more with Korean romance and drama overall.