There hasn’t been a more diametrically opposed pair of opposites since Barbenheimer, and our sparkly, cheerful leading lady and our monochromatic leading man are off to a rocky start. But in dramaland, the adage “opposites attract” is proven correct more often than not, and romance is definitely in the air — whether this OTP realizes it or not.
EPISODES 1-2
Objectively, My Lovely Sweet Mobster is not a top shelf K-drama. From the tropes to the comic inspired animations, everything about this show would suggest it’s on the path to mediocrity — and yet (so far, at least), this silly little rom-com speaks to my inner office worker who just wants to abandon her inbox, lay on the beach, and read an equally silly romance novel. For the right audience, this is escapism at its finest, and right now, I am this audience.
I wasn’t fully on board right out the gate, though. In fact, I was initially a wee bit concerned that this drama was going to be too silly — even for me — when our story opened with a campy introduction to our leading man. SEO JI-HWAN (Uhm Tae-gu), the former leader of the Bulldog Gang, is a caricature of what most people would think a gangster looks like: all black clothing, slicked back hair, and resting butcher face.
The key word here is former gangster because, even though he still dresses like he’s cosplaying a Matrix character, he metaphorically hung up his trench coat after defeating his rival GO YANG-HEE (Im Chul-soo), the leader of the Kitty Gang. Y’all, I don’t know which is more ridiculous: the fact that Im Chul-soo is portraying a I-only-got-this-job-because-of-nepotism type gangster or that these gangs seemed to have randomly picked their mascots from a list of college football teams and Sanrio characters. Either way, it’s clear that we shouldn’t take these gangsters too seriously — not even when they’re supposedly being serious.
After retiring and taking up the more honorable (and legal) position as the CEO of his own meat production company, Thirsty Deer, Ji-hwan’s decision to hire reformed criminals inevitably leads him back to his old rival when one of his employees, a former druggie, goes missing. Ji-hwan begins his investigation at Kitty Gang headquarters, a nightclub that doubles as a front for their more sketchier activities. While searching the club for clues to the whereabouts of his missing employee, Ji-hwan bumps into — literally — our leading lady, GO EUN-HA (Han Sun-hwa).
It’s definitely not love at first — or second or third — sight for these two, because a series of coincidental run-ins and misunderstandings leaves our OTP thinking the worst of each other. Eun-ha mistakes Ji-hwan for a (practicing) gangster because he still dresses and carries himself like one, and because Eun-ha was toting around candy that looks suspiciously like the new drugs that the Kitty Gang is pushing, Ji-hwan suspects Eun-ha is in cahoots with his former foes and is trying to drag down his reputation — which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Eun-ha is actually a children’s content creator, and because she genuinely loves kids, she puts a lot of effort into creating videos that are engaging for them. Her whole persona (online and in real life) seems modeled after the ideal kindergarten teacher or theme park princess — sweet, effervescent, and too perfect to be real — but, like all Disney princesses, Eun-ha works for a larger company with a bottom line. Her idealism is at direct odds with said company’s push to promote their sponsors’ toys and kid-friendly products in her videos, which is why she’s deemed the company’s worst performing creator. (Whomp, whomp.)
As such, she’s a bit of a joke among her peers, and she’s given assignments that the other content creators avoid, like the upcoming children’s food festival. But Eun-ha is a Candy with a heart of gold, so of course she’s eager to attend the food festival. In fact, even before she volunteered for the task, she already had an idea for a fun and engaging pizza-making class that she hoped to put into action at the festival.
You know who’s also in attendance at the kids food festival? Ji-hwan’s Thirsty Deer employees. His company recently developed some kid-sized sausages, and they need to do some market research to see if their product — and its kid-friendly packaging — will sell. Unfortunately, the parents at the festival aren’t too keen on having their kids approach the booth run by reformed criminals or eat food that they suspect is laced with drugs. Things go from bad to worse when one of Ji-hwan’s employees accidentally bumps into a father with a short fuse, and the ensuing arguing escalates to a point where kids start crying enmasse.
Eun-ha steps up to de-escalate the situation, and by the time Ji-hwan arrives on the scene, the crowd has dispersed, Eun-ha has left to teach her pizza class, and his despondent employees are cleaning up the mess. His employees are remorseful but also defensive, sensitive to the fact that they cannot escape their reputation as criminals. Ji-hwan, although sympathetic, gives them some tough love: “Paying for your crimes does not mean your crimes are gone.” Because they were criminals, they have to go the extra mile to prove they’ve turned their lives around.
Given that Ji-hwan and Eun-ha are both at the same event, their paths inevitably cross and result in bodily injury. Yeah, you read that right, but it’s actually Eun-ha who’s the unintentional aggressor. She accidentally stabs Ji-hwan in the ribs with a mop handle and sends him tumbling down some stairs. The tough-as-nails former gangster winds up in the hospital with a mild concussion and broken ribs, and his employees are chomping at the bit to enact revenge on Ji-hwan’s behalf — especially since they still suspect Eun-ha might be a part of the Kitty Gang.
By this point in time, though, Ji-hwan has already searched for Eun-ha on the internet and done a deep dive of her videos, so he’s no longer concerned that she’s a Kitty Gang spy. However, that doesn’t mean she’s not a threat… to his heart. You see, after marathoning all of Eun-ha’s videos, he can’t get her off his mind. She invades his thoughts to a point his concussed brain imagines she’s by his bedside. Then, suddenly she is in his hospital room, wanting to apologize and return the sunglasses he lost when he fell down the stairs.
It’s at this exact moment that Ji-hwan’s minions come storming into his hospital room, cursing Eun-ha and threatening her bodily harm. Ji-hwan hides Eun-ha under his bedsheets a la True Beauty, and does his best to deescalate the situation before his employees ask about the suspiciously large lump next to him in bed. They guys are really riled up, so it takes Ji-hwan longer than necessary to get them to clear out, but once they’re gone, Eun-ha is able to scamper to freedom.
Just when Eun-ha thinks she’s in the clear, her phone starts blowing up with comments on a video that she didn’t post. Her boss took the footage of her de-escalating the fight at the kids’ food festival and edited it in a way that sensationalized the situation and slandered Ji-hwan’s employee. The video rakes up millions of views, just as Eun-ha’s boss had hoped, but Eun-ha’s reputation tanks because it looks like she posted a very non kid-friendly video to her account.
Obviously, the video has a negative impact on Ji-hwan’s company, too. Business partners are backing out of deals, and stores are pulling his products from their shelves because no one wants to buy meat from a company run by the violent criminals seen in the video. Ji-hwan has a hard time believing Eun-ha posted the video — it’s so unlike her other content — but he can’t argue with the fact that it was uploaded from her account. Unable to take the negative publicity lying down in his hospital bed, Ji-hwan dawns his most intimidating black attire and pays Macaroon Soft a visit, scaring the hell out of Eun-ha’s boss.
While everyone is preoccupied with the scary former gangster who’s shown up with legal documents and a promise to sue Macaroon Soft for defamation, Eun-ha sneaks in and steals the hard drive containing the original footage from the food festival. Eun-ha may be intimidated by Ji-hwan and his band of merry men, but — as Ji-hwan reminds her — they are the victims. They didn’t start the fight at the festival. They were there to promote a product they worked hard to make, and they don’t deserve the negative publicity manufactured by her boss to drive up the view count on their videos. So Eun-ha does the right thing and uploads the unedited footage from the festival to the internet.
It’s still unknown if Eun-ha’s anonymous video dump single handedly restored Thirsty Deer’s reputation, but her actions definitely warmed Ji-hwan’s heart. He immediately feels guilty for assuming the worst about her, and after further observation of her volunteering at the hospital where he’s staying, he’s downright twitter-pated. He was never a loquacious man, but when he did speak, he was direct and methodical. Now, in Eun-ha’s presence, he’s clumsy — stumbling over his words and his feet. Okay, yeah, this is adorable, and it’s extra amusing because Eun-ha, who’s still a little intimidated by him, is weirded out even more by his awkward penguin behavior. Just wait, though, the time for Ji-hwan to show his manly, protective side is right around the corner.
Unfortunately, his hero moment comes at a low point for Eun-ha. The soy milk she featured on her channel made hundreds of children sick, and now she must face the consequences of attaching her name to a product without researching it first. I’m a little impressed that our story has broached such a serious — and legitimate — problem with online influencers, but it is a shame that our leading lady, a character who isn’t into content creation for fame or money, is having to learn this lesson. I kind of wish she’d been on the sidelines to watch it happen to one of her mean girl coworkers, but maybe this is a needed growing moment for Eun-ha, too. She is almost — but not quite — annoyingly naive.
There’s no denying Eun-ha has a good heart, though, and when she hears about the toxic milk on the news, she rushes to the hospital to retrieve the cartons she handed out to the children during her volunteering activities. Thankfully, none of the kids she knows through her volunteer hours consumed the milk, but her relief is replaced by horror when she witnesses the overwhelming number of sick children in the emergency room.
When the parents recognize Eun-ha from her videos, they turn on her — enraged that she promoted and convinced the parents to purchase the milk for their children. One mother picks up an open carton of milk and throws it at Eun-ha, but before it makes contact, Ji-hwan swoops in to shield Eun-ha. Unfazed by the milk dripping down his trenchcoat, he then crouches down next to her and softly tells her to close her eyes and count to ten because — well, I don’t know. Our episode ends there, and I’m surprisingly curious to find out what he doesn’t want her to see. Something tells me he isn’t going to beat up a bunch of parents and doctors.
I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for a (fictional) former bad boy, and I’m charmed by Ji-hwan’s strong and soft sides. The guy is 100% smitten already, but the poor thing is going to really have to step up his game if he intends to woo Eun-hwa because — what neither of them realize yet — is that Ji-hwan has some fierce competition in the form of our second male lead JANG HYUN-WOO (Kwon Yul).
Now, Hyun-woo didn’t get much screen time this week, but he already has multiple advantages over Ji-hwan. For starters, as a prosecutor — and not a former gangster — he’s more approachable and less misunderstood. Secondly, he’s good with kids, like Eun-ha, and his office acts as an impromptu daycare for his fellow prosecutors. And finally — and this is the most important bit of information — he appears to be the Hyun-woo from Eun-ha’s childhood that she’s been searching for over the years.
Oh dear, I’m afraid this drama is going to give me a bad case of second lead syndrome or — even worse — I’m going to like both men equally and feel extremely conflicted for another fourteen episodes. Okay, gentlemen, you aren’t vying for just the leading lady’s heart, but mine, too. Now — *pokes both men with a stick* — do something swoony.