Reviews

A very pleasant and comforting series to watch.

Here we follow the transformation of the female lead — Shen Xi Fan — who at the very beginning is stuck in a toxic relationship. Her boyfriend treats her like trash, tries to blame her for everything wrong in his life, and keeps her on a leash. Later, she meets the male lead, her relationship finally ends, and thanks to He Su Ye, she begins to learn what real love actually is.
He Su Ye himself is a massive green flag. From start to finish, he was incredible support for her and made her genuinely happy. The fact that she needed time never discouraged him. He simply stayed by her side and showed her true love with his whole being. Watching them happy together was beautiful, and their relationship was extremely sweet. There wasn’t even a hint of toxicity here. They supported each other deeply, even during difficult moments. There were no arguments after they got together, which made the whole thing very comfortable and enjoyable to watch. On top of that, they had amazing chemistry. They were a joy to look at, and their kisses were HOT.

A huge plus also goes to the female lead’s parents and the male lead’s grandfather. All three were wonderful characters, and most scenes with them made me smile — or cry, when her mom got sick. I have mixed feelings about the male lead’s father. On the one hand, I was happy when the female lead initiated their reconciliation (for a moment I was afraid he would oppose their relationship), because watching him, I felt like he had truly changed and understood that he hadn’t always been a good husband to his wife in the past. On the other hand, I kept remembering that not long before, he was still putting pressure on his son to pursue Western medicine. So to this day, I’m not sure how much he actually changed and whether he truly deserved that second chance.

Now, the female lead’s ex-boyfriend — Yan Heng. I wanted to strangle him through the screen. They absolutely ruined the character for me after Meteor Garden — I will never look at him the same way again. The way he was such a piece of shit while seeing himself as a prince on a white horse was insanely irritating. He broke up via text message, then came back like nothing had happened just to get revenge on her father? He couldn’t accept rejection and had the nerve to go to her parents and keep selling them bullshit about how he supposedly broke up with her “for her own good.” T R A S H.
Surprisingly, he eventually disappeared from her life and was never mentioned again — which on one hand makes me happy, and on the other makes me curious about what happened to him afterward.

Now for two questions / downsides.

First, the secondary couple — though I’m not even sure they truly counted as one. I’d rather say Xu Xiang Ya and Lin Yi Shen were more of a side pairing. And that makes me sad, because they were so wonderful that I really wanted more scenes focused on their relationship. I can’t even find one solid argument — I just wish their storyline had been developed more.

And the biggest downside for me — or rather, an unanswered question. Did the male lead really have a girlfriend in college who broke his heart, or was that just a lie made up by Fang Ke Xin? Why was this never explained? Why did they never talk about it? I thought that ex-girlfriend would show up at some point since she was mentioned — but it never happened. So did she actually exist at all?

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When I started watching this series, I was convinced it would be good. I wasn’t wrong — it was fucking amazing and addictive. But I also thought it would be very sweet and “calm,” considering the author’s other works. Turns out, not quite. The series tackles heavy topics that are definitely not for everyone, but they’re handled extremely well — there’s really nothing to nitpick here.

Let’s start with the positives, namely the male lead — Sang Yan. I already loved him in Hidden Love, and here my love only grew stronger. A wonderful man and a massive green flag. I wish every good person could meet someone like him in their life. His unconditional love and immense support for the female lead were beautiful to watch — and at the same time heartbreaking. For two reasons. First, the positive one: he was the only person (aside from her dad) who was always there for her and truly showed her genuine love. Second, the negative one: he suffered a lot because of that love — and he absolutely did not deserve it. Honestly, neither of them did. They both truly fell in love back in high school, and their feelings remained strong even after their paths split. Their reunion showed that clearly, as the emotions slowly resurfaced. This wasn’t just about obvious on-screen chemistry (though it was definitely there, and the kisses were H O T), but about a deep, emotional bond. They were the most important people in each other’s lives, and both wanted what was best for the other.

That led to one moment where I was completely torn: Wen Yi Fan’s second escape to Hong Kong. At that point, two wolves were fighting inside me. One wanted to tear her apart for hurting Sang Yan yet again — a man who was nothing but wonderful to her. That wolf wished them both happiness apart, just so they could finally stop suffering. But the other wolf understood her. She had been through hell — the kind that’s hard to talk about and even harder to forget. She never received the support she deserved, and the people closest to her convinced her it was something shameful and that she should stay silent. Then Che Xing De reappeared in her life. She wanted to protect the male lead by disappearing from his life. That wolf knew that their true happiness existed only with each other — and that they truly shined only together.

As for Wen Yi Fan herself — the female lead — she was a tragic character. The actress played her brilliantly, and I felt her pain in every single episode (I cried in almost all of them). For me, it’s unimaginable how much hell the people closest to you can create in your life — and that was exactly her case. The strongest disgust and resentment I felt was toward her mother, Zhao Yuan Dong. Of course, I’m not defending that piece of trash (Che Xing De), who ended up exactly where he belonged — but it was her mother who allowed this to happen. She could have protected her and didn’t. She didn’t believe her own daughter when she said he tried to take advantage of her. She still wanted her to stay near him, claiming he was a good man. SICK. Years later, she acted like nothing had happened and wanted to fix their relationship (mainly because her new partner left her). I’m glad she didn’t get forgiveness from her daughter, and that the female lead cut her out of her life — she absolutely didn’t deserve to stay in it. Honestly, she deserved even harsher consequences. To make things worse, she let that trash live with her younger daughter, as if she wanted to put another child through the same hell.
Coming back to the female lead — I’m glad she met someone like Sang Yan. She deserved happiness. She was a good person, and her parent gave her the kind of fate no child should ever have. I’m happy that, thanks to him, she slowly started reclaiming happiness in her life. Thanks to him and his family — and we already knew from Hidden Love that his family is wonderful.

Still talking about the main couple — the proposal at the very end was beautiful. That kind of ending is pretty cliché, but here it really worked for me — especially with a small complication added. And one tiny BUT: it was sweet and at the same time slightly terrifying that he followed her around Yihe for six years despite having no contact, simply because he promised her back in high school that he would always be by her side :D

As for any love rivals — we only had admirers for the female lead (which is honestly weird, considering Sang Yan’s looks and personality — how was no one interested in him except me and Wen Yi Fan? :D). Still, both of them were decent guys and not overly annoying.

Now, the secondary couple: Su Hao An and Zhong Si Qiao. In their case, I feel a slight sense of dissatisfaction, though it’s hard for me to fully pinpoint why. Their relationship had huge potential, but somewhere along the way it feels like it wasn’t fully used (though, like I said, I can’t clearly define where it went wrong). What irritated me was that at some point I completely lost track of their dynamic. I thought they were together when they weren’t — or they were together, but she wasn’t sure if he loved her? I honestly got confused myself. On the positive side, both of them had wonderful families. Especially his grandparents — watching them together was a joy. They radiated a kind of happiness and love that had survived many, many years.

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I recommend this drama to anyone who needs something light and very enjoyable to watch.

Let’s start with the main couple - Cong Rong & Wen Shao Qing. Their relationship was sweet and comforting from beginning to end. They liked each other almost from the very beginning, and once they became a couple, there wasn’t a single moment where they doubted the value of their relationship. There were no unnecessary arguments or melodrama between them (well, there was one pointless argument, but it wasn’t serious), just a sweet, almost perfect relationship between two people who fit each other incredibly well and loved each other deeply. Watching them was a pleasure, and their chemistry was wonderful. Aside from the sweetness, they also had HOT scenes - their kisses were genuinely good. They were each other’s priority. They valued each other’s well-being more than their own and fought for it. Most importantly, they knew how to listen to each other and talk to each other. It’s also worth mentioning that their story began in childhood. Sweet - but also a little scary - was the fact that he waited for a girl he had known only briefly as a child for so many years. :D

Now let’s move to the second couple - Zhou Cheng Cheng & Wen Rang. They were opposites. She was loud, open, emotional - though her feelings weren’t always stable. He was quiet, distant, cold, closed-off, and pining for his ex for about ten years. Here we got much more drama, which wasn’t a downside. We gradually watched him open up to her. Feelings slowly started to develop, which threw him into emotional chaos, because he had been waiting for another girl for years. And of course, that girl had to appear. That’s when he realized his true feelings were for Zhou - but it was already too late to stop the snowball that had started rolling. Although honestly, it could have been stopped with a conversation, but in their case communication didn’t come naturally; they had to learn it - especially him. Despite everything, their relationship was interesting to watch, and the drama between them felt natural rather than exhausting. The two couples were a perfect contrast and complemented each other well.
However, with Zhou Cheng Cheng and Wen Rang I found two small flaws. First: Zhou still doesn’t know that the kiss in the taxi actually happened and wasn’t just a dream. Second: I really wanted more scenes between them after they officially got together! Everywhere it says they were also a main couple, but they definitely felt much more like a secondary one.

Now let’s talk about the admirers of these two couples. The ones connected to the main couple were perfectly fine. They knew when to give up. Qin Chu caused some chaos at first, but stepped back when she noticed the two were into each other, and she was actually kind and supportive afterward. Shangguan Yi didn’t exactly back off, but he wasn’t harmful. He threw in a few comments here and there, but quickly stepped back and behaved normally. Though I’ll admit, I wish we’d gotten a scene where he confessed his feelings to the heroine, because then she would’ve realized that the main lead’s jealousy was justified.
But when it comes to the “admirer” - the ex-girlfriend - of the second male lead, she was extremely annoying. Completely self-centered, even though she treated him like trash. She didn’t know when to stop, even after seeing he had turned toward another girl, and desperately kept trying to get close to him despite him showing not even a hint of interest. In my opinion, she was the only irritating character in the entire series.

The last point I want to address is the families. The best, of course, were the female lead’s mother and her stepfather, but the male lead’s parents and his grandparents - who were the second male lead’s parents - were equally wonderful. Watching scenes with all of them was genuinely pleasant. As for the others, they were fine/neutral, and we didn’t get any extremely annoying or toxic characters (though the second female lead’s parents were toxic at the beginning).
I’ll also mention the female lead’s cousin - Zhong Zhen. Overall, I’m a fan of his personality; he made me laugh many times. A wonderful character with one flaw. I wanted to tear him apart and swore I’d name him my enemy of the series if he interrupted the main couple’s HOT scene one more time - luckily for him, he didn’t.

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This drama is amazing, I swear. I didn’t feel bored for even a moment, and I watched every episode with huge interest.

The chemistry combined with the strong tension and desire between the main couple was exactly what I’d been looking for for a long time. The female lead mentioned at one point that in the beginning she thought he was a flirt. When I started watching the show, I also thought he was that type. I expected games similar to the male lead from "Nevertheless,". But it turned out differently. At first, the male lead was completely closed off and didn’t let anyone get close. Only after meeting her did he slowly start to open up, and she showed him that the world could be beautiful for him too. As for the female lead, I really liked her character: fighting for her goals, confident, beautiful. She didn’t let anyone walk all over her. At first glance, she tried to pretend she had control in their relationship, but looking more closely, that wasn’t true - neither of them had control. And to be clear, this drama is definitely not a sweet romance from the beginning. Early on, their relationship was toxic at times - especially because of him, since he didn’t know how to talk about his problems. But I can understand why he acted that way. Their relationship progressed quickly, and opening up after the hell his mother put him through since childhood isn’t easy. The biggest fight in their relationship - the one that nearly led her to divorce him (and yes, I understand that he was trying to protect her in his own way - his mother was a threat, though it would’ve been better if he had told her right away) - was the last major moment of tension. After that, he finally opened up, and from then on they fought together, not against each other. I really liked that they stayed by each other’s side even as stronger and stronger evidence appeared that his mother was involved in her mother’s suicide. I was afraid that this would push them apart again (either through her or through him), but it didn’t. My only complaint about the male lead is the letter in the second-to-last episode. He really needs to learn how to write those better, because even I thought he was leaving the female lead - which wouldn't surprise me

A huge plus is the character creation. I could write pages about this, so I’ll shorten it to my favorites:
→ Chen Jia Yu – a wonderful son. He didn’t have an easy childhood, which made him more mature than his peers, but he loved his mom unconditionally. Thanks to him I went through all kinds of emotions - from laughter to tears.
→ Tai Ming Xiao – he stole my heart with his reaction to the main couple’s marriage and later with how he tried to separate them at work (too bad he didn’t get more scenes).
→ The female lead’s family / the male lead’s grandma and cousin – I’ll group them together here. Watching them was wonderful. The closeness between them, the grandmas teasing each other, wedding and baby planning for the main couple, trying to reconcile them, fishing with her dad - and I’ve probably forgotten something. (I’m glad the male lead’s grandma survived; I was really scared about that.)

The secondary couple deserves its own section. Even though the beginning of his feelings didn’t fully convince me (he developed feelings for the female lead because he mistakenly thought she saved him, and once he learned it was actually Fang Ya En, he immediately redirected his feelings), I still enjoyed watching the development of their relationship. His support during her divorce from her abusive husband, his care for her son - I really liked the bond he formed with the boy (especially helping with the school performance; that absolutely melted my heart). Turning the bar into a restaurant so she could come with her child. The friendship between Fang Ya En and the female lead was also amazing - anyone would want to have such supportive friends. Same with the relationship between Cheng Kai Ran and the male lead. They always lifted my mood - for example, in the scene where they both tried to write messages to "their" girlfriends in episode 12.

The last point is Li Ling Bai. The script tried to explain her actions, but that sentimental backstory didn’t convince me at all. She went through hell - I’m not denying that. But it doesn’t justify what she did. She should’ve dragged herself to a psychologist, not her son, whose life she turned into hell for nearly 30 years. She shouldn’t have blamed her friend (the female lead’s mother), who stayed in the orphanage to help her, nor should she have destroyed her life and pushed her toward the worst possible end. That’s why I’m glad she ended up behind bars, and I didn’t feel sorry for her for even a moment. I hope she rots there for the rest of her life - along with Wang Xing Sheng, though I’m not discussing him because we know too little, which is a pity, because for me he’s the only key character who wasn’t developed well enough

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In my opinion, the drama was interesting and very enjoyable to watch. I really liked the focus on botany and animals (especially birds). I’m not usually interested in that kind of thing, nor have I watched any dramas with a similar theme, so it definitely felt fresh and intriguing. I liked how we gradually got to see the male lead’s perception of Yu Mei Ren change over time. The chemistry between the main couple was absolutely wonderful. As the drama went on, I was worried that this chemistry would go to waste - there hadn’t been a single kiss for so long that I started thinking maybe one of the actors had refused to do those scenes. Thankfully, we finally got the kiss scenes, and they were beautiful. I also liked the contrast between the leads - he was calm and composed, while she was more wild and full of life. Over time, though, he learned to embrace a bit of her “craziness,” while she learned to be calmer and listen to others. I was also really happy when, at the end, we saw the main heroine’s brother meet a girl who could become his love interest. Those kinds of details are often skipped, and such characters usually end up alone - so I really appreciated that addition.
Another huge plus for me was the parents. There’s not much to say about the heroine’s parents - they were wonderful, and I watched every scene with them with a smile on my face. But the male lead’s family was a pleasant surprise. Usually, wealthy parents in dramas are portrayed as cold and calculating, caring only about social status or benefits from a relationship. But in this case, his mother turned out to be a genuinely kind person who, instead of opposing their relationship, was actually nice to the female lead and even thanked her.

Now, let’s move on to the secondary couple. I’m a bit conflicted about them. At first, their relationship was interesting to me, but as the story went on, something started to fade. I stopped feeling the same spark between them, and I think the writers lost some of the potential that was there in the beginning. In my opinion, the storyline about the male character losing his leg was unnecessary - it felt forced, as if it was added just to create a reason for their reconciliation.

Aside from that, there were a few other things that didn’t work for me or felt like flaws:
→ The male lead leaving for a year to the U.S. without even saying goodbye to the heroine was just stupid. On top of that, he didn’t contact her at all during that entire time. Saying that he didn’t do it because she blocked him is a ridiculous excuse. He could’ve done anything to explain himself - written her a letter, asked a mutual friend to talk to her, or called/texted her from someone else’s phone. But he did absolutely nothing.
→ The lack of communication between the main couple. Too many secrets, too many things they didn’t talk about - and when the truth finally came out, they tended to brush it off instead of actually addressing it.
→ The lack of confrontation with Xiao Fang. She was the heroine’s assistant but turned against her because she convinced herself that Mei Ren caused her to get fired (once again, lack of communication). It all ended up feeling like filler material to give Xiao Xue more room for her schemes, but I really wanted to see Xiao Fang’s reaction when she learned the truth.

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I loved this drama. It’s such an enjoyable show to watch. There aren’t any annoying characters whose sole purpose is to irritate the viewer or cause unnecessary problems for the leads. I really liked the main characters and how they developed. Nan Xing is a bit silly at times, but she’s determined to achieve her goals and doesn’t give up easily. Xiao Wu Di may seem like a villain on paper, but we quickly see his good side, and he gradually becomes a genuinely likable person - without losing his bold, mischievous charm. I loved their relationship from the very beginning. Not only did they have amazing chemistry, but there was also this natural ease between them - you could just feel that they genuinely enjoyed being around each other. Everything about their connection felt real, so much so that it moved me to tears several times.

A huge plus for me was also the main heroine’s mother. An Ni Na’s character was wonderful and definitely one of the best parents I’ve seen in Chinese dramas. There was no unnecessary drama - just a sincere portrayal of a mother’s real love for her child.

Mao Xiao Jun was also a very interesting character, and while watching, I couldn’t help but wonder how his story with Nan Xing might have unfolded if the fire hadn’t happened. I’d love to see an alternate storyline about that.

And I’ll go against a lot of opinions here - I actually liked the secondary couple, Lu Zi Chen and Ye Qing. Their relationship was interesting to me, and I rooted for them quite a lot. However, that changed once she went back to being his assistant. From that point on, something broke. The dynamic became strange, their storyline felt shallow, and the proposal scene was just weird.

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A very good drama that I can wholeheartedly recommend. I had a great time watching it - it was genuinely enjoyable. I absolutely loved the female lead: she was strong-willed, confident, refused to let anyone walk over her, and was fully devoted to love. Of course, she did have one flaw - during conflicts, she couldn’t bring herself to listen to the other side. I also loved the relationship between the main characters. Her initial love that turned into hatred, his realization of who she really was, and his fight for a second chance - it was all very engaging to watch. I also liked that obstacles kept being thrown in their way, yet they always managed to overcome them.

The secondary couple’s storyline was just as interesting. It’s a shame that toward the end, it became quite underdeveloped, because I definitely saw potential for much more there. The same goes for the plot about releasing their game. Since the drama’s main story revolved around it, I really missed seeing the final touches before its release, as well as the actual moment it came out. It would’ve been nice to see that they truly made a big impact on China’s gaming scene and created something innovative. After all, throughout most of the show, we were told it would be the first game of its kind in China - yet in the end, all we got was a short celebration of millions of downloads. That didn’t feel satisfying to me.

One more thing about Su Zheng. At one point in the series, I got the impression that he wasn’t actually in love with her and was just trying to provoke Gu Xun - which would’ve been both funnier and more interesting. This feeling came from episode 15, during the cake scene, when he approached the main couple looking like he was trying not to laugh - but in the end, it turned out differently :(

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Overall, I really enjoyed watching this series. The character development across the board was excellent. It did a great job showing a difficult childhood and how it affected adult life. Another big plus was the main couple’s relationship — once they got together, there were no pointless arguments added just to create “drama” for the sake of the plot.

Of course, I also watched the original — the Chinese version — but I actually preferred the Korean adaptation, for several reasons:
- They got rid of the weird love triangle between the main heroine and the two brothers, which made it much more pleasant to watch. Because of that, the brothers also seemed more bonded — for example, they both knew about his return.
- The main heroine’s best friend didn’t fall for Kim San-ha, which in the Chinese version felt extremely forced. Plus, here she got a happy ending with Kang Hae-joon.
- They didn’t try to convince me that Kim San-ha cured depression and anxiety with herbal medicine — though that’s kind of a weak plus, because in this version his issues were almost completely brushed aside.
- Kim San-ha actually asked Yoon Joo-won about their relationship — something I really missed in the original.

However, I also found a few downsides compared to the Chinese version:
- Kim San-ha’s problems were completely ignored. He went through hell with his mother for ten years, yet he never once brought it up with Yoon Joo-won. She saw the scars on his arms, and later they even slept together — but she somehow didn’t notice his burn marks? I really missed seeing them talk about such a serious topic.
- Kang Hae-joon’s relationship with his biological father was underdeveloped. We know his father abandoned him again after his child was born, but this was barely addressed. The same goes for the accidental death of his mother — it was brought up and then completely dropped.

A minor issue, but I felt sad that Kim San-ha didn’t become a dentist, just because Yoon Joo-won was afraid of going to them :(

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A very pleasant series to watch. It tackles difficult topics like depression and PTSD, but in my opinion, they were handled well. It was wonderful to follow the main characters’ relationship from the very beginning. They met when both had hit rock bottom and gradually became each other’s biggest support during a crisis, despite their earlier “hatred” back in high school. The second couple also stole my heart, and I rooted for them hard. Plus, of course, my favorite — Nam Ba-da. Completely clueless for most of the series, but that’s exactly what won my heart, along with his arguments with his mom. Another big plus is that all the storylines were properly wrapped up. In the end, I wasn’t left with any unanswered questions or plot holes.

However, I did find a few issues that made me lower my rating. Only by one star, though, because I liked the series so much that these didn’t outweigh the positives.
→ The constant alcohol consumption by the main couple. I’m aware that mental health is still a big taboo topic in Korea, but I refuse to believe medicine is that backward. They were both on antidepressants, which absolutely should not be mixed with alcohol — especially that frequently. Not only could they seriously damage their health, but they could also disrupt and prolong the treatment process.
→ The character of Min Gyeong-min. Damn, I think the narrative potential here was huge, and I was disappointed that it was reduced to his death in an accident and later forgiving him. It would have been far more interesting if he had survived and been able to explain his motives in more depth — to show that he truly regretted everything he had done.
→ Infantile behavior. The main couple was theoretically adult (close to thirty?), but in reality their interactions were sometimes extremely sugary and childish. Watching that in real life would honestly make me cringe, but within the series I could at least laugh at it (partly out of second-hand embarrassment, but it still lightened the heavy topics).

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Glances into the Heart

This series had a great start and met all my BL expectations. Japan is known for capturing the hearts of viewers with unique storytelling techniques and atmospheric settings within the BL genre.

After watching the first episode, I must say Minato and Wataru’s friendship won me over. They are open and comfortable with each other, which is rare to find; often, people engage in friendships only to benefit or obtain something for themselves.
In a key scene, we see Wataru adoring a picture on the wall and reading the caption, "Minato," before the man himself appears. Minato is known to be an introvert who barely talks. Even when Wataru requested to see his other work, Minato remained silent and turned away quickly, which was quite shocking. However, he eventually did as requested—without ever saying he agreed—by showing up later with his portfolio, which served as his silent confirmation.

When Minato was leaving for Hokkaido for work, Wataru felt sad and lonely, as they had been best friends since high school. Even though Minato couldn't find the words, he hugged Wataru and looked him in the eyes; it felt as if they were about to kiss. Their expressions in that scene were incredibly loving. It was there that their love story silently began—not with an echo, but through simple, expressive glances.

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I had a great time watching this series. I really liked how the main characters’ personalities complemented each other. On the surface, the serious Jang Shin-yu clashed with the slightly goofy Lee Hong-jo, and as their love developed, he slowly opened up to the idea that not everything in life has to be taken so seriously. The chemistry between the two of them was amazing, and the kisses were HOT. The supporting characters were also interesting — they didn’t blend into one another but had distinct personalities, ranging from funny for the viewer, to infuriating, to genuinely intriguing. The curse storyline and the spells themselves were also interesting.

One thing worth highlighting because it absolutely cracked me up was how the male lead in some scenes seemed to barely hold back laughter. I don’t know whether it was intentional or if the actor himself just found it funny, but I noticed it, for example, in episode 5, when they were talking on the phone and he heard that she was sitting with some guy.

However, I did find some downsides that made me slightly lower my rating.

1. The characters’ stupidity:
→ The male lead, portrayed as one of the best lawyers, initially believed his girlfriend’s version of events — that the female lead had stolen her boyfriend — even though just seconds earlier he had heard that it was his girlfriend who had apologized to her for the past, not the other way around.

→ Their biggest moment of stupidity was when they were already together and the psycho was stalking her and had just tried to kill her. They arrive together at his apartment, and he sees the psycho’s car in the garage. Instead of staying with her and calling the police, he decides to go down alone after escorting her upstairs to “check it out” (brilliant intelligence), and she doesn’t behave any better. After all that, she sits alone in the apartment and opens the door when someone rings the bell (even though no one is visible on the monitor), while her boyfriend is desperately trying to call her.

→ Another time, she lures the psycho alone to some cave-like place. That might have been acceptable since she informed others and they were supposed to come, but then instead of stalling for time, she confesses everything to the psycho and runs away XD.

2. Events that are absurd and have no grounding in reality.
To be clear, I understand that this series includes spells, curses, and reincarnation, so it has fantasy elements — but the characters are still human. Here, the female lead sprays the psycho with pepper spray from a very close distance. For the first several or even dozens of minutes, he shouldn’t have been able to open his eyes at all; he could have had corneal damage or optic nerve injury — and yet one second later the guy is running after her through the forest as if nothing happened.

3. Unresolved or underdeveloped storylines that I consider important:
→ The spellbook stated that spells could be cast by her and a person designated by her. Who was that person? Everything pointed to Na Jung-beom, but this was never explained.

→ The character of Na Jung-beom himself. He also cast spells — this was shown in the past and implied to be happening in the present as well. In fact, that’s exactly what he was trying to do when he was captured, yet none of this was explained and it was completely brushed aside.

→ The consequences for Na Jung-beom, Lee Hyeon-seo, Yoon Hak-young, or Yoon Na-yeon. We basically know nothing about what happened to them, even though all of them were significant characters for the overall plot.

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This was a wonderful series, and I really regret that I stopped watching it earlier. The plot pulled me in completely, and I wasn’t disappointed even a little. The relationship and chemistry between Do Do-hee and Jeong Gu-won were amazing and addictive, and I would love to see even more episodes of their story — obviously the happy part. Their personalities and his character development (in a positive direction) throughout their relationship were portrayed very well.
On top of that, all the side characters were well written and clearly distinct from one another. We had mentally disturbed characters (mainly Noh Seok-min and Noh Do-gyeong), who were brilliantly acted — interesting and terrifying at the same time. Their close ones, who suffered because of those disorders, were also portrayed well, showing the consequences and how it affected them during and after. There were also lighter, comedic characters that added humor to the show and briefly pulled it out of its seriousness (like the “Wild Dogs” gang or the relationship between Shin Da-jeong and Park Bok-kyu).

I found only two downsides, which didn’t really affect my overall rating anyway. First, I’m curious why Noh Seok-min became such a monster. Did he have any reasons that led him to develop mental illness — just like his son did because of him? One could assume not, since the series never gave us an answer.
The second issue is the lack of development of Ki Kwang-chol’s character — more specifically, why he was also manipulated by Noh Seok-min and involved in that sick situation.

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I have mixed feelings after watching this drama.

On one hand, I really enjoyed it - I laughed, cried, and got frustrated along the way. It was an overall pleasant watch, probably because of the music theme, which I personally love.

On the other hand, I’ve been looking for a really good music-themed drama for a while now, and I feel like this one fell a bit short of that title. Mainly for two reasons:

I would describe this drama as something you have to watch with a grain of salt. There are plenty of silly scenes where the adult characters behave like children, and their actions are often exaggerated and unrealistic.

This was the biggest issue for me — the pacing. In the first few episodes, things moved way too fast; we basically learned the entire plot right away. Then the story slowed down, only to suddenly explode in the final episode. Everything was crammed into it, which made each storyline feel shallow. The fate of the guilty characters and those who should have faced consequences (after annoying me the entire show) was glossed over. The main couple’s story felt rushed (not to mention the secondary couple). Kong Jin Gu’s storyline — built up throughout the series, with him pretending to be poor — was left completely undeveloped by the end. Honestly, the stories of all the characters felt watered down, as did the entire band’s development (what even happened to them afterwards — who knows?).

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The drama started on a strong note, and i really enjoyed the first few eps. However, as it progressed, especially in the middle, it began to feel unnecessarily stretched. By the final eps, i was honestly just waiting for it to end. This drama absolutely did not need 12 eps especially with 60-65 min runtimes, and one episode even running for 82 mins. Ideally, the story could have been wrapped up within 6-8 eps. The dragging added no real value.

If not for the forced misunderstanding created by the SFL, the story could have easily concluded by E6. The leads would have confessed by then and the conflict would already be resolved.

Although both leads were clearly in love, it took far too long for them to actually enter a relationship almost until E10. Multiple plotlines were running simultaneously: the alter ego personality, a love triangle involving the FL, ML and SML and yet another romantic angle from the SFL’s side. At times, it felt less like a triangle and more like a love pentagon.

While the production quality, acting, bgm and chemistry were all solid but overall viewing experience felt boring to me. I did like the Japanese SML, but his presence also seemed more like a tool to stretch the plot rather than serve a meaningful purpose. The SFL’s storyline felt equally unnecessary.

The FL’s traumatic childhood backstory, which explains the development of her alter ego, was another weak point. The alternate personality appeared and disappeared randomly, making it difficult to take seriously or feel convinced by it.

Overall, this was average at best for me.

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Does the weight of a crime disappear if the “crazy” are the only ones who remember it?

1.Moral Inconsistency
In this tale of those branded insane, what bothers me most about this series is the lack of moral consistency. The drama is meticulous almost relentless when it comes to punishing vigilante murderers, yet strikingly indifferent when harm is committed within socially acceptable roles like “parent,” “spouse,” or “family member.” The vigilantes who kill child abusers are pursued, condemned, and destroyed by the narrative. They are framed as criminals first and foremost, regardless of motive or emotional torment. The law closes in, society judges them, and the story ensures they face irreversible consequences. Their actions are treated as unforgivable, even when driven by grief, trauma, or desperation.

Now contrast that with the stepmother who killed her stepdaughter. Her consequence is not legal punishment, social condemnation, or even sustained moral reckoning. The primary “penalty” she faces is that the female lead does not forgive her. But refusal to forgive is not justice, it is an emotional boundary. It protects the victim; it does not hold the perpetrator accountable. Treating emotional estrangement as sufficient consequence for murder is a profound narrative imbalance. The female lead’s refusal to forgive is emotionally valid, but it cannot carry the entire weight of justice alone. Forgiveness is not a substitute for accountability, and silence is not resolution.

And then there is the husband. His infidelity, committed during his wife’s pregnancy, no less is effectively erased. He lives comfortably, faces no meaningful fallout, and continues his life without remorse or accountability. The drama does not even pretend to interrogate his actions. His betrayal is framed as incidental, something too minor to deserve narrative weight.
What disturbed me most was the way the drama implicitly suggests that betrayal becomes acceptable when the victim is unwell or emotionally vulnerable. Does the weight of commitment disappear when a partner is no longer “easy” to love? What, then, becomes of the vow of “in sickness and in health”? The narrative seems to quietly discard it the moment the wife actually needs support. Even more unsettling is how casually the story portrays the daughter’s almost immediate acceptance of the mistress simply because she is “nice,” as though kindness toward a child can neutralize betrayal of the family. This depiction is deeply troubling, not because forgiveness is impossible, but because it is presented as natural, effortless, and morally uncomplicated. The drama normalizes cheating without interrogation or consequence, creating the impression that infidelity falls within an acceptable range of behavior when a spouse is struggling. Leaving a sick partner might draw social judgment, but cheating (according to the narrative) is treated as understandable, even expected. It is not the act alone that disturbs me most, but how easily everyone moves on, as if betrayal is a reasonable response to hardship rather than a deliberate violation of trust.

This raises an uncomfortable question:
Are some harms considered less worthy of consequence simply because they occur within “normal” family structures?
By punishing only those who act outside the system, the drama sends a message: that harm committed quietly, politely, and within accepted social roles is more forgivable than harm committed loudly in response to injustice. This is selective accountability.
The story insists that killing is unforgivable when done by those seeking justice for abused children, yet strangely negotiable when done by a stepmother behind closed doors. It condemns rage born from trauma but excuses betrayal born from convenience. In doing so, it unintentionally reinforces the very societal failures it claims to critique, where power, respectability, and silence shield wrongdoers from consequence.

When the narrative allows certain characters to move on unscathed simply because their wrongdoing is not the “focus,” it diminishes the seriousness of their actions.
Ultimately, the drama asks viewers to accept that some lives are destroyed for crossing moral lines, while others are allowed to thrive because their crimes are inconvenient to confront.


2.COMPLEXITY AND ACCOUNTABILITY
It is important to separate complexity from accountability. A well written character can be layered and still be unequivocally wrong. Depth, trauma, internal conflict, or sympathetic framing can help us understand why a character acts the way they do, but understanding is not the same as justification.

Circumstances may apply pressure, but they do not remove agency. Complexity does not erase choice. Every harmful act depicted in the drama (cheating, betrayal, neglect, even murder) was the result of a decision. Sympathy for their circumstances does not justify the pain they caused, nor does it absolve them of responsibility. When we absolve characters simply because they are nuanced or emotionally conflicted, we blur the line between empathy and excuse making. Explaining why someone chose self interest over commitment does not undo the damage caused, nor does it restore trust, safety, or dignity to the victim. Sympathy for the perpetrator’s internal struggle cannot outweigh accountability for the harm they knowingly caused. Defending these characters because they are “not purely evil” also sets a troubling standard: that wrongdoing is forgivable as long as it is done quietly, politely, or with sufficient emotional complexity. True complexity would require the narrative to hold these characters accountable while acknowledging their inner conflict. Without consequence, complexity becomes a shield rather than a lens. It turns moral failure into a character trait instead of what it actually is: a violation that demands recognition.

Complex characters can be compelling, tragic, even sympathetic. But complexity should deepen responsibility, not erase it.


3.Weight of a crime.
The weight of a crime does not disappear simply because of time, intention, remorse, circumstance, or narrative framing. If the question is whether the severity of wrongdoing lessens because the perpetrator suffered, felt conflicted, believed they had reasons, or because the story moves on, the answer remains the same: harm does not evaporate because it becomes inconvenient to acknowledge.
A crime’s weight is defined by the damage inflicted, not by how quietly it is absorbed, how gracefully the victim endures it, or how sympathetically the offender is portrayed. Silence from the victim does not equal absolution. Survival does not equal healing. Forgiveness, if it even exists does not retroactively erase wrongdoing.

What often does disappear is accountability. Narratives frequently shift focus away from consequences and toward the perpetrator’s emotional state, reframing harm as tragedy rather than responsibility. This does not reduce the crime’s gravity; it merely obscures it. The pain remains, even when it is no longer centered. If anything, the absence of consequences makes the crime heavier, not lighter because it reinforces the idea that some people’s suffering is expected, tolerable, or expendable. The weight does not disappear. It is either carried, acknowledged, and answered for or it is left to rest on the victim alone.


4.Severity can be ranked. Accountability cannot be optional.
Cheating, child harm, and murder cannot be meaningfully compared in a way that makes one “cancel out” or excuse the others, nor can they be reduced into something forgivable simply because a story decides only one of them is “important.”
What can be compared is severity, but comparison is not the same as erasure. In a drama, prioritisation of certain crimes for narrative focus does not change the moral weight of the others. When a story treats child abuse or murder as “serious” while framing cheating as trivial, understandable, or forgettable, it is not making a moral distinction, it is making a narrative convenience. The harm does not become smaller just because the plot moves past it.

Cheating is not equivalent to murder or child abuse in scale, but it is still a serious ethical violation. It involves deliberate betrayal, emotional harm, and often the destabilization of families and children. Reducing it to a forgivable flaw because “worse things exist” is a false moral hierarchy. By that logic, almost any harm could be dismissed as long as something more extreme appears elsewhere in the story.
Child harm and murder are crimes of irreversible damage; cheating is a crime of trust. They are different in form, but all are rooted in choice, power imbalance, and disregard for another person’s wellbeing. None of them become forgivable simply because the perpetrator suffered, had reasons, or was portrayed sympathetically. A drama can choose what it emphasises, but it cannot ethically reduce harm into irrelevance. Prioritizing one crime does not erase another. And no amount of narrative framing can transform intentional harm whether emotional or physical into something morally neutral or automatically forgivable.


5.Normalisation
I think cheating has become far too normalized, especially in media and popular narratives. It’s often framed as something inevitable, understandable, or even romantic, rather than what it actually is: a serious breach of trust. When infidelity is repeatedly portrayed without real consequences, it subtly reshapes how people perceive it, making betrayal seem less severe than it truly is.

Cheating is not a symptom of love “fading” or circumstances being difficult, it is a choice. Normalising it strips accountability from the person who made that choice and shifts focus away from the harm inflicted on the betrayed partner. This is particularly damaging because it minimizes emotional trauma and reinforces the idea that loyalty is optional when things become inconvenient.

Betraying someone you once professed to love, and with whom you share a child cannot be reduced to a narrative inconvenience or a morally neutral act. When infidelity occurs during pregnancy, a time of physical vulnerability and emotional strain, it reflects an even deeper level of disregard. Such behavior is not merely hurtful; it is ethically indefensible.

What is especially troubling is how the show minimizes this act by framing it as secondary to “more important” plot elements. In doing so, it implicitly treats infidelity as commonplace or inevitable, rather than as a serious violation deserving of accountability. The absence of consequences, social, emotional, or moral….creates the impression that betrayal carries little weight. The character in question assumes no responsibility, expresses no remorse, and faces no meaningful repercussions. This narrative choice subtly reinforces the idea that cheating is an acceptable or understandable response to relational difficulty, which is both misleading and harmful.

Cheating is not an unavoidable circumstance; it is a deliberate decision. At every point, there is an opportunity to communicate, seek support, or disengage honestly. Choosing instead to pursue another person, especially while one’s partner is enduring a difficult period reflects a prioritization of self interest over commitment and empathy. Portraying such a choice without consequence undermines the seriousness of the act and dismisses the emotional damage it causes.

Moreover, the lack of visible betrayal or reaction from the affected partner does not negate the harm done. Emotional restraint or forgiveness should not be mistaken for indifference, nor should it erase the wrongdoing itself. Even if the individual character is written as composed or self-sacrificing, the broader impact remains on the family, on those around her, and on the audience interpreting these dynamics. Media representations carry influence, and when betrayal is downplayed, it risks normalizing behavior that fractures trust and destabilizes relationships.
Ultimately, the issue is not simply about one character’s actions, but about the message the narrative conveys. By glossing over infidelity without addressing its moral and emotional consequences, the show fails to acknowledge the real world weight of such choices. Cheating should not be portrayed as a minor flaw or a tolerable norm; it is a serious violation that demands accountability. Ignoring this reality does a disservice not only to the characters involved, but also to viewers who understand the lasting harm betrayal can cause.


6.Thoughts on this Drama
The story unfolded in a fairly intense and engaging way, and I did find the progression compelling. Acting and pacing of the story was well done. However, from the very beginning, it was quite clear to me who was responsible. The character’s lean physique and, more notably, the disproportionate amount of screen time given to someone presented as a “side” character immediately stood out. For a character who was supposedly irrelevant to the central conflict, their repeated appearances felt deliberate rather than incidental. That narrative emphasis made it obvious that they were going to play a much larger role in the story, ultimately giving away the reveal long before it was officially confirmed.

One of the drama’s strongest elements lies in the cases themselves. Each case is disturbing, emotionally heavy, and handled with a level of seriousness that reflects the gravity of the subject matter. Rather than being used for shock value alone, the cases serve as mirrors to broader societal failures: neglect, abuse, silence, and the ways adults repeatedly fail children who depend on them for protection. What makes these cases particularly impactful is how they expose not only individual cruelty, but systemic indifference. The suffering depicted is not exaggerated or sensationalized; it feels painfully plausible, which makes it all the more unsettling. Through these narratives, the drama forces viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about responsibility, complicity, and the long term consequences of unchecked harm.

I thoroughly enjoyed the drama overall. That said, every time the husband appeared on screen, or the stepmother for that matter, I felt genuinely angry. They are not simply family members who made unfortunate mistakes or acted out of ignorance. They made conscious, deliberate choices that directly harmed FL. Their actions were not accidental, nor were they the result of misunderstandings, they knowingly prioritized their own interests at her expense. What frustrates me most is how the narrative attempts to soften their behavior by portraying them as otherwise “decent” or reasonable people. Decency cannot coexist with repeated, intentional harm. Being polite, well spoken, or socially acceptable does not erase the fact that they betrayed her trust and contributed to her suffering. Reducing their actions to mere family conflict minimizes the severity of what they did.

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