As our mobster and content creator spend more time with one another, she learns that she really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Our mobster may look like his pages are full of violence and gore, but underneath his black cover is a story full of innocent romance and second chances.
EPISODES 3-4
Last we saw Eun-ha, she was in quite the predicament, having discovered that a product she’d endorsed made hundreds of children sick. Ji-hwan, who’d just been discharged from the hospital, witnessed Eun-ha’s panicked rush to the hospital, and because he sensed something was wrong, he made [attractive flower boy] General Manager JOO IL-YOUNG (Kim Hyun-jin) pull a U-turn.
It’s a good thing he did because Eun-ha, crushed by the weight of her own guilt, froze when the (understandably) angry parents lashed out at her. She would have passively accepted their abuse had her black knight in a flowing trench coat not swooped in to shield her from their projectile milk cartons. After telling Eun-ha to close her eyes and count to ten, Ji-hwan hoisted her over his shoulder (hawt) and turned to the pack of parents. Sternly, he told them to hold on to their milk and save it — and their anger — for the company that rightfully deserves their ire (also hawt).
Ji-hwan insists on driving Eun-ha home, but once they’re in the car, he flounders when it comes to comforting the despondent woman next to him. She’s ashamed, she tells him, that she trusted the milk company based on their friendly marketing, and she’s disappointed in herself for having judged a book by its cover for the second time — a subtle acknowledgement of how she’d misjudged him and his company based on appearances, too. Our leading lady may be a gullible pushover, but at least she owns up to her mistakes and apologizes to those she inadvertently harms. (Plus-one for character building!)
Ji-hwan and Il-young drop Eun-ha off at her friend KOO MI-HO’s (Moon Ji-in) place, and Ji-hwan, who doesn’t want to part ways, is torn between rejecting her offer to dry-clean his milk-stained coat and wanting to use the coat as an excuse to see her again. The desire to have a lingering tie to the object of his affection wins, and he hands his coat over to Eun-ha. A keenly observant Il-young whips out a business card and tells her to call if she ever “needs a ride.” Or, you know, she needs to return the coat.
Thankfully, the tainted milk didn’t cause any permanent or life-threatening damage to the children, so when Eun-ha returns the next day, only one (formally hostile) parent remains. The mother is noticeably subdued, and she admits that she’s also partially at fault because she, like Eun-ha, didn’t do her own research. She admits she purchased the milk because Eun-ha, unlike other content creators, was focused on educating and entertaining children over pushing products, which made her feel more trustworthy. (Oof.)
Ah, yet another reminder that the universe likes to take giant steaming dumps on the good guys, but — guess what? — the world just keeps hurling poop emojis at Eun-ha. Macaron Soft is actively preparing to throw Eun-ha under the bus because of Milk-Gate, and phase one of their plan is to “temporarily” shut down her account. When the office mean girl and ranking top dog KANG YE-NA (Song Seo-rin) finds out Eun-ha won’t be getting a steady paycheck from Macaron Soft, she “jokingly” offers to let Eun-ha clean her apartment.
Eun-ha sees right through Eun-ha’s “joke,” but because beggars can’t be choosers, she accepts Ye-na’s offer in order to get some quick cash — after all, the dry cleaning bill for Ji-hwan’s coat wasn’t cheap. The inside of Ye-na’s apartment yields insights to this particular mean girl’s character. Of course there’s a giant picture of herself on the wall that suggests her vanity is of the same magnitude as the portrait, but the contents of her office and at-home studio reveal a woman who has worked hard for her fame and success rather than having it handed to her.
While I’d still lump Ye-na in the same category with the other smarmy salespeople of the world, she takes pride in her career, and it’s that pride that makes her so annoyed with Eun-ha. From her perspective, Eun-ha is underachieving because she coasts along, doing whatever she wants, but the disconnect all boils down to the two women using different tools to measure their success. Eun-ha’s goal isn’t to gain the most likes or views — although she’d certainly like to reach more children — but to provide quality entertainment to kids that’s easy for them to understand.
Obviously, I’m biased for our leading lady — especially after Ye-na invited the rest of her mean girl posse over to humiliate Eun-ha — but, you know what? I respect that the writers have added depth to Ye-na’s character and given her a logical reason for disliking Eun-ha, even if I don’t agree with said logic. She’s not mean for the sake of being mean, and her bullying of Eun-ha isn’t over a man — at least not yet.
It’s gonna happened eventually, though, because Ye-na feels indebted to Ji-hwan, who freed her from her father’s debt, and his generosity endeared him to her. On the flip side, Ji-hwan doesn’t remember her (hah!), and when given the option to linger and talk with Ye-na or trail after the humiliated and sad Eun-ha, he obviously chooses Eun-ha. And thank gawd he did because what follows is pure squee-on-a-stick.
Ji-hwan follows Eun-ha to a pojangmacha, and because there’s no other available seat left, Eun-ha allows the former gangster to sit with her. He’s not much of a drinker, though, so he orders a soda, which he knocks back emotionally when Eun-ha admits that she wished he wasn’t a former gangster. Ji-hwan is so ashamed of his past and in the dumps that Eun-ha doesn’t like that side of him that he doesn’t realize that he accidentally grabbed Eun-ha’s bottle of soju. And — woo boy! — that tall glass of soju knocks him on his ass — in the best way possible, of course.
The alcohol unleashes his inner child, and Eun-ha follows her missing mobster to a nearby playground, where he runs around exuberantly and coaxes Eun-ha into playing with him. It unexpectedly turns into a mini therapy session for Eun-ha, who also lets loose and temporarily sheds her adult worries, but the best part of the night is when they both collapse in the sand and Ji-hwan encourages her to keep making videos. “I miss watching them,” he admits, and the cherry blossoms fall in slow motion as Eun-ha absorbs his confession. (It’s at this point in our story, Beanies, that I made a noise so high pitched that only dogs could hear it.)
The next day, Ji-hwan very much remembers the night before, and he alternates between feeling acutely embarrassed and daydreaming about the object of his affection. He’s late to a meeting, and even though his body is present during his subordinate’s presentation, his mind is very much on Eun-ha. As much as I love seeing this tough-as-nails man reduced to a puddle of goo, his Thirsty Deerlings — save for the keenly observant Il-young — are very confused by his odd behavior. They assume he’s mad at them — either because he doesn’t like their marketing strategy or because of the “rat” Eun-ha, who caused to their company’s reputation.
If only they knew that their boss was stressing over his response to Eun-ha’s text that they should meet up so she could return his coat. He worriedly calls her to clarify about the accidentally-crude typo in his text — and he just so happens to overhear her being kicked out of her company sponsored housing. Her one-year contract with Macaron Soft is over, and her boss has unceremoniously fired her and made her homeless. I hope at some point in this drama’s future we get to see Ji-hwan absolutely destroy Macaron Soft and Eun-ha’s boss, but for now Ji-hwan’s highest priority is ensuring Eun-ha is safe. And, as drama destiny would have it, he finds her coincidentally outside his own home.
You see, when Eun-ha was young and her family was being harassed by gangsters, her childhood protector, a young Hyun-woo, used to live in Ji-hwan’s house. Given that her nostalgia and curiosity for her missing former friend has peaked since meeting prosecutor Hyun-woo — still unconfirmed if he’s the Hyun-woo — she wanders to the house where she used to seek out protection.
Ji-hwan is startled and relieved to see Eun-ha, but he doesn’t let on that he knows she’s homeless. Instead he uses his coat, which she’d been utilizing as a makeshift umbrella, as an excuse to invite her inside. You know, he’s got to make sure that the dry cleaner did a good job. And while he’s inspecting the quality, if she wants to change into some dry clothes, all the better.
He can only drag out the coat excuse for so long, so in an effort to keep her there longer, he offers to fix her some ramen. He’s completely oblivious to the innuendo — or else he would have been blushing redder than a cooked lobster — and when Eun-ha realizes his food choice was literal, she accepts. She never gets around to eating the ramen, though, because she falls asleep in the living room, and at some point in the night, Ji-hwan carries her to a spare bedroom.
She wakes up the next morning to find Ji-hwan’s deerlings preparing an epic breakfast, and they’re all — again, save for Il-young — surprised to find out she’s their “special guest.” After they finish eating, Eun-ha is at a loss as to how she should repay them for their kindness. The six men work together like a well-oiled machine, and there’s no task available for her to aid them with. But then she overhears Il-young tell Ji-hwan he should bring someone — preferably someone great with kids and less… intimidating — with him to visit his missing employee’s (the former drug dealer) younger sister.
You know who’s good with kids? Eun-ha, and she jumps at the opportunity to repay him for his kindness. Ji-hwan is reluctant to take her with him because he doesn’t want to put her in any danger, but Il-young assures him that there haven’t been any members of the Kitty Gang watching Former Drug Dealer’s sister. It’s safe, and since none of the other deerlings are available to go with him — a big fat lie — he should take the far more personable Eun-ha with him. In case it wasn’t already clear, Il-young is playing matchmaker.
It’s a good thing Ji-hwan brought Eun-ha with him because the young girl immediately sees him as a threat. She bravely stands between Ji-hwan and her home, and even though it would be easy for Ji-hwan to overpower her and enter the house, he isn’t in the habit of scaring children — at least not intentionally. Eun-ha steps up to charm the young girl and entertain her while Ji-hwan searches for clues to his missing employee’s whereabouts.
Flashbacks reveal that, even though Ji-hwan is in the business of giving second chances to criminals in hopes they can turn their lives around, he was reluctant to hire the former drug dealer. After all, selling drugs is easy money, and Ji-hwan feared the other man would return to his criminal ways once he realized that turning his life around would be hard work. Former Drug Dealer, however, sincerely wanted a better life from him and his ten-year-old sister, and all signs in the house indicate he hasn’t gone back on his promise to lead an honest life. But beyond that, there aren’t any clues to his whereabouts.
Just as Ji-hwan is about to call it quits, a car comes speeding up to the house, but it isn’t a member of the Kitty Gang. Out pops Hyun-woo, and he’s openly hostile towards Ji-hwan. Since the beginning of this drama, there have been hints that he has a personal vendetta against Ji-hwan, but whatever history they have between them — and whether or not it has anything to do with Eun-ha — remains a mystery. However, even if Hyun-woo’s beef with Ji-hwan has nothing to do with the gang that terrorized Eun-ha as a kid, she’s definitely caught up in the middle of these two now — because our love triangle is up and running.
I initially thought Hyun-woo would be a strong competitor for Eun-ha’s heart, but the more we learn about Eun-ha’s childhood protector, the less I think she’s searching for a “first love.” Instead, I’m sensing she saw the young Hyun-woo as more of a brother figure, and she wants to find him out of concern that something tragic might have happened that night he hid her plastic bin from the bad guys. So if Hyun-woo turns out to be her childhood friend, I think she’ll feel happiness and relief rather than an instantaneous crush. Plus, after this week, even if there were some first love tropes in play, I think Hyun-woo is too far behind to catch up.
Ji-hwan not only took the lead in my heart, but possibly Eun-ha’s, too, with his drunken antics and his frank discussion on why he turned his life around and began providing a platform for other ex-convicts to do the same. Although there’s a lot of silliness in their interactions — and the drama as a whole — our story is doing well to infuse the lighthearted moments with serious topics that create interesting character development and provide groundwork for our OTP to move past biases and build a relationship. So kudus to this writing team, and my fingers are crossed that our story maintains this rhythm!