Tanky Toon

I picked up this drama because someone told me it had “strong bromantic vibes” like The Devil Judge, and apparently my taste now revolves around morally ambiguous men glaring at each other until they become besties. While it wasn’t quite as “bromantic” as that one, the dynamic between Ju Won and Dong Shik carried its own weight. They began from a place of deep mistrust, circling each other with suspicion, and yet by the end their bond had hardened into unbreakable loyalty. The vibes weren’t the same, but that’s fine by me— because the real draw here was the journey of unraveling the mystery behind the killings, and the narrative tension of whether Ju Won would still make the same choices despite knowing what he knows. Would he still choose justice over comfort, and that question alone kept me hooked.

The brilliance of this show lies in its framing. Even when dismembered fingers appear, they’re treated like crime scene evidence—CSI‑adjacent rather than horror spectacle. That distinction keeps the focus on consequences and suspicions rather than cheap scares. The domino effect is clear: the killer’s crimes set everything in motion, and from there, cover‑ups and trauma ripple outward until the entire village itself feels guilty. It’s not just a whodunit—it’s a study in how suspicion corrodes trust and how collective silence sustains evil.

And none of this works without the acting. This is only my second time seeing Yeo Jin Goo, and he’s absurdly good at embodying righteous restraint. He brings Ju Won’s inner conflict to life with precision, but he’s not outdone by Shin Ha Kyun, who plays Dong Shik with quirky brilliance—an unpredictable cop doing questionable things, yet always grounded in emotional realism. Their performances elevate the drama, making every confrontation and reconciliation feel earned.

Beyond Evil isn’t just a mystery. It’s an uncomfortable mirror, asking what we protect, who we sacrifice, and how monsters survive when entire systems hold the door open for them.