While romance is still at the forefront of our story, our webtoon-turned-drama dives deeper into the theme of loss. Our hero is still haunted daily by the memory of his childhood friend and the trauma-inducing car accident that took her from him, but our leading lady has also lost her share of loved ones during the span of her many lifetimes. But for her, the most painful connections are to those who are still alive and around to miss her.
EPISODES 3-4
Oh, my heart! This week, See You in My 19th Life came at me with several tear-jerking moments that I was not prepared for — not even with my prior knowledge of the webtoon story. Some things just hit deeper when every emotion is captured by talented actors and accompanied by a thematically appropriate soundtrack that drives home the intensity of the moment, you know? And first up on the list of “Scenes That Made DaebakGrits Ugly Cry into Her Morning Coffee,” is the continuation of last week’s solemn ending.
Okay, maybe the graveside scene wasn’t as much of a tearjerker the second time around, but it was still a pivotal moment for Ji-eum that carried a lot of weight for her character. Prior to watching Seo-ha visit Ju-won’s grave, she’d had a mostly self-centered and seemingly jaded outlook as far as her past lives were concerned. But now she understands that Ju-won’s death — which, for her, was just the end of yet another life in a long string of lives she remembers — was something he continues to grieve.
Ji-eum now finds herself in the position of wanting to comfort Seo-ha but needing to feign ignorance of their shared past. She offers up a few generic words of wisdom, and when they seem to lighten Seo-ha’s mood slightly, she proceeds with her usual tried-and-true method of flirtation as an additional means of distraction. Seo-ha’s sadness slowly gives way to amused annoyance, and the dark cloud hanging over him disappears — until a close encounter with another Truck of Doom triggers his PTSD. He bails out of his seat as a panic attack hits, and Ji-eum springs into action, giving him a bag to breathe in while she gently pats his back. I’m right there with Ji-eum, wanting to hug him and protect him from all the trauma the writer has heaped on his shoulders.
The time at Ju-won’s grave has Ji-eum looking at Ae-gyeong a bit differently. As her uncle Jung-ho, Ji-eum had thought she was comforting little Ae-gyeong with the knowledge that she’d be reborn and would come and protect her again in the future. But, sadly, that promise didn’t have much weight or significance for young Ae-gyeong who lost her beloved uncle and suddenly found herself alone and on her own in the world. Ji-eum feels guilty for not having realized how much Ae-gyeong must have gone through after her uncle died, but that part of Ae-gyeong’s life is so far in her past that it no longer troubles her. Even so, Ji-eum hugs and comforts Ae-gyeong like a mother — or uncle — would comfort a child, placing the seated Ae-gyeong’s head against the softness of her stomach and wrapping her arms protectively around her. (Oof! The feels!)
The moment ends, however, when Ae-gyeong gently reminds Ji-eum that if today is Ju-won’s death anniversary, then that means it’s also Seo-ha’s birthday, which just adds a whole new layer of angst to the situation. Cue: a montage of Seo-ha unhappily celebrating his birthday and remembering Ju-won’s death every time he blows out his birthday candles.
And while most people would agree, given the circumstances, that this is probably the absolute worst day to dole out a love confession, Ji-eum races — in the rain for maximum romantic cliche — to Seo-ha’s house. She explains that she couldn’t let his birthday pass without telling him that she likes him — like, like likes him.
Her love confession stems from a promise she made in her previous life. Seo-ha had asked Ju-won if she liked him, and she had told him she would give her answer on his birthday, which — well, you know. Although Ji-eum’s intentions were pure, once again her insider knowledge prevents her from seeing the inappropriateness of her actions while living as Ji-eum. As Seo-ha begins his polite rejection, the door to his house opens, and there’s Cho-won. It’s at this moment that Ji-eum seems to realize that her secret knowledge of Seo-ha’s past does not give her a magical insight into his current private life.
Ji-eum lingers outside Seo-ha’s house for Cho-won to leave, and she doesn’t have to wait long because Seo-ha kicked Cho-won out after sullenly reminding her that he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday. Face to face again with her sister from a past life, the always blunt and to-the-point Ji-eum asks Cho-won if she likes Seo-ha, and Cho-won counters with: “And what if I do?”
But, of course, our story cuts to the next business day before we find out Ji-eum’s response, and when Seo-ha sees Ji-eum in the parking garage, his mind immediately goes to her confession from the night before. His thoughts are all over his face, and Ji-eum slips into her usual flirtatious habits to catch him off guard but — more importantly — keep him thinking about her. His mood, which seemed lighter after his banter with Ji-eum, turns dark again when Cho-won arrives at the office. Seo-ha, not knowing she submitted a portfolio under a pseudonym, was impressed by her work but not pleased to learn real identity.
Seo-ha’s chilly demeanor — not to mention the loud argument he has with Do-yoon — saddens Cho-won, and Ji-eum follows her out of the office and invites her to dinner. Over drinks, Ji-eum gazes lovingly at her past-life sister and is relieved to learn that Cho-won is not her competition for Seo-ha’s heart. No, Cho-won is smitten with Do-yoon, and it was love at first sight — ever since Seo-ha passed an umbrella to his classmate Do-yoon and asked him to give it to the middle school girl waiting in rain for him outside their school. Cho-won warns Ji-eum, though, that while she may not be her competition, she has a more formidable advisory: Ju-won, Seo-ha’s first love.
The night ends with Ji-eum escorting the very inebriated Cho-won to her parents’ house, and from afar, Ji-eum watches Cho-won’s mother CHO YOO-SUN (Kang Myung-joo) answer the door. Seeing her mother from her 18th life is emotional for Ji-eum, and the loss and longing are so strong that she loses sight of reality as she imagines what would happen if Yoo-sun recognized her as Ju-won’s reincarnation. As the fantasy gave way to the reality of Ji-eum crying and hugging herself in the street outside her former family’s home, my heart crumbled, and it’s at this point — in case y’all were wondering — that my coffee started to taste salty from all my tears.
And if her present pain isn’t tear-jerking enough for you, then brace yourselves. We also get flashbacks to Ji-eum’s third life. After dying as an infant daughter to a wealthy family in her second life, she was reborn as a poor, low class boy. When she (as the boy) regained her memories, she immediately sought out her mother from her previous life who had lovingly combed her hair, but Ji-eum was rejected. Her mother didn’t recognize her, and the memory still haunts Ji-eum and makes her hesitant to reveal anything to her loved ones from her 18th life.
Ji-eum’s approach to Seo-ha, however, is noticeably bolder and a bit more reckless, as if she can’t quite help herself when it comes to him. So when he catches her crying outside her former childhood home, she slips up and calls him by his name — in a way that instinctively makes him think of Ju-won.
The tables turn, and Seo-ha is now the one who offers comfort. He humors Ji-eum’s desire for convenience store ramyeon in order to cheer her up. Ji-eum rebounds quickly from her earlier melancholy, and resumes her usual flirtations, joking with Seo-ha that he is becoming her biggest fan and dropping another small hint about reincarnation that — this time — sticks with Seo-ha. But just as Seo-ha is being to piece together the puzzle pieces that Ji-eum has been handing out, Ji-eum decides to pull back.
Ae-gyeong accuses her of being afraid — and after seeing memories of her 3rd life, that is probably partially true — but Ji-eum has another logical reason for not wanting to tell Seo-ha she’s Ju-won. She wants him to heal from the trauma of Ju-won’s death, and she senses she should do that as Ji-eum — not Ju-won. From a viewer standpoint, I can’t wait for the moment he realizes Ji-eum is Ju-won, but from the perspective of an armchair therapist, I don’t think Ji-eum is entirely wrong for second-guessing whether the truth will be beneficial for his mental health long term.
Although Seo-ha is slow to figure out the truth, Cho-won has been struck by a sense of familiarity that she can’t shake. During the drunken ride home in the back of the taxi, the way Ji-eum stroked her hair reminded her of her older sister. When Cho-won gets the opportunity to see Ji-eum the next day, she asks some probing questions, seemingly trying to figure out if her crazy theory holds any water. The questions unnerve Ji-eum enough that she knocks over Cho-won’s tea cups, and Seo-ha rushes to her side when he hears the noise.
What follows is another cute scene between the two of them, but what makes this one special is Ji-eum’s proclamation that — going forward — she will only ask him out three more times. And if he rejects her all three times, then she will officially give up on her pursuit of him. Although Seo-ha is quick to say he’ll save her the trouble of having to ask three times, I’m not buying it. Maybe I’m reading too much into his microexpressions — or prior knowledge of the webtoon — but I sense a bit of disappointment in him. Boy, you know you like the attention!
Seo-ha isn’t the only one who appears to be in denial about his feelings. Do-yoon may have turned down Cho-won when she asked to go on a date with him, but the clenched fist he hid under the table is very telling. He’s a bit of a mystery at this point, but despite his regular meetings with Seo-ha’s father — which a passing comment suggests Seo-ha is aware of — Do-yoon’s loyalty appears to align with Seo-ha even if he doesn’t seem wholly comfortable with the level of friendship and familiarity that Seo-ha is offering.
The next time Seo-ho and Ji-eum see each other, it’s purely by chance. Ji-eum is being chased down the street by her scumbag brother BAN DONG-WOO (Moon Dong-hyuk), who’s decided to hit up Ji-eum — literally — for money. Seo-ho sees the commotion and decides to interfere, but he takes a punch to the face for his troubles. Ji-eum, who had been disappointingly passive prior to all this — finally goes on the offensive when she sees Seo-ha’s wounded face.
Dong-woo scampers away, but not without threatening her one last time. Ji-eum is forced to admit to Seo-ha that she’s related to the waste of oxygen who just ran off, and in another rare moment of vulnerability, she worries that he now assumes she only approached him for his money. Thankfully, he has the sense to acknowledge that her unconventional methods of wooing him are not aligned with the typical gold-digging tactics. He then invites Ji-eum out for dinner and soju, and Ji-eum drinks him under the table, which is not surprising considering Ae-gyeong’s let her drink soju since she was eight-years-old. (I’m honestly a little bit concerned about Ji-eum’s liver at this point, but at least she has money-hungry relatives that might sell her a new one, amirite?)
After dinner, Seo-ha and Ji-eum find a spot along Cheonggyecheon, and it’s here that drunk Seo-ha is struck, once again, by Ji-eum’s familiar mannerisms. Maybe it’s the familiarity or maybe it’s the soju — or a combination of the two — but in this moment Seo-ha opens up to Ji-eum about Ju-won’s death in a way that triggers more of my ugly tears.
The part that struck me most about this scene was the heart-wrenching way he described being trapped in the car’s wreckage, feeling Ju-won’s body grow cold on top of him while he waited for the emergency crew to extract them from the car. Although the trauma left him with an aversion to physical touch, he curls onto Ji-eum’s shoulder and allows her to wrap her arms around him in comfort.
Seo-ha passes out, and Ji-eum struggles to carry him home. The unexpectedly humorous rickshaw scene did wonders to lighten the mood, but unfortunately for Ji-eum, it wasn’t an effective means of carting Seo-ha’s dead weight around. She calls Cho-won for reinforcements, and together they put him in the front seat of Cho-won’s car, where he will be more comfortable should he wake up. Ji-eum reveals some of the extent of Seo-ha’s trauma to Cho-won, and Cho-won reacts as though she’s never contemplated how the accident might have affected him. (I’m just spitballin’ here, Cho-won, but maybe some of this also factors into why he’s been trying so hard to avoid you?)
After they arrive at Seo-ha’s house, Cho-won calls Do-yoon for the passcode. It’s 0423, Seo-ha’s birthday and Ju-won’s death date — oof. Which means, every time he entered his house, he thought of Ju-won — double oof. But that’s not the last of the emotional groin kicks, folks, because as Cho-won and Ji-eum put Seo-ha in bed, an unconscious Seo-ha grabs Ji-eum’s hand as she stands to walk away. “Don’t go, Ju-won,” he cries in his sleep, prompting me to get all misty-eyed, too.
When Cho-won said Ji-eum would have to fight the ghost of her sister for Seo-ha’s affections, it was a bigger battle than even she knew. I’ve got to say, I don’t always approve of Ji-eum’s methods, but in this fictional setting with this fictional context, I say, “Ji-eum, you be that wrecking ball!” Tear down those walls! Keep pushing him out of his comfort zone! This boy needs to stop acting like he died with Ju-won so he can start living again.
I may have been expecting and hoping for a little more comedy than what we saw this week, but I’m not complaining. These latest episodes were thoughtful and poignant, and while Seo-ha’s angst may be laid on a little thick, Ji-eum’s journey was extremely moving in contrast. I sincerely hope the drama doesn’t lose sight of this sincerity as it progresses, but it feels like the story is going to take another turn. Two new (and mysterious) side characters have been introduced in passing, and lest we forget, Ji-eum also ominously suggested that the quick turnaround between her 18th and 19th life might have been because she was — drumroll please — murdered.