Our heroine values honesty above all else, but it turns out the truth isn’t quite as simple as “not a lie.” So when our reclusive composer’s apparent honesty overturns her expectations, she’s both confused and deeply curious about what exactly he may or may not be hiding.
EPISODES 3-4
When Do-ha catches Sol-hee removing his mask, all Sol-hee can muster is a small bow and a quiet “Hello…” Shaken, he takes off to spend the night in a hotel, and she searches him up online, cringing over assumptions she’s made about him.
Do-ha’s hotel stay comes to a swift end the next day when he’s caught in a crowd of reporters (they’re here for a different celebrity, but the camera flashes and jostling send him into a flashback-induced panic attack). So back to his temporary home he goes, and Sol-hee just happens to exit the building right when he arrives. After he fails to hide behind the taxi (lol), Sol-hee apologizes for the unmasking.
He’s kept her literally at arm’s length throughout the conversation, but steps protectively in front of her when a desperate-looking man runs up begging to borrow a phone. Do-ha gawks as Sol-hee readily offers the guy hers, along with cash (from Do-ha’s wallet) for a taxi — she, of course, can tell this isn’t a scam, but Do-ha just shakes his head at how naively trusting she appears to be.
From there, little chance encounters continue to nudge them closer together. Like when Sol-hee’s mom drops by asking for money, but mistakenly knocks on Do-ha’s door instead. He overhears her mom accusing her of ruining their family — nine-year-old Sol-hee had innocently offered to help a victim of her mother’s real estate scam, only for the woman to run off with ALL of their money instead of just the amount she’d lost — and having a mother who’s afraid of you is something Do-ha is all too familiar with. When he and Sol-hee end up on their respective balconies that night, he commiserates with her about messy families.
On another night, Sol-hee finds herself at the jazz bar where Do-ha plays piano. While she immerses herself in the music, the gold-digging cheater from last week approaches and gets increasingly threatening. Do-ha again steps in front of her, and since she’s almost too drunk to function, he drives her home — not realizing until she points it out that he’s forgotten his mask.
On the way back, she insists on stopping for hangover soup, sweetly seating him with his back to the room so he’ll feel comfortable enough to eat. But trouble is waiting at their apartment building in the form of two reporters. Now it’s Sol-hee’s turn to protect Do-ha, which she does by bunny-hopping in front of him to hide his face and dragging him into her apartment to hide as the reporters camp out in the hallway.
Awkward cuteness ensues. Do-ha finally learns Sol-hee’s name, and since he doesn’t know she knows he’s Kim Do-ha, he gives her his real name, Kim Seung-joo. Sol-hee was prepared to accept a fake name, so it takes her a second to register that her lie alert didn’t go off. That, combined with Master’s Sun on the TV — in which the hero’s touch neutralizes the heroine’s ghost-seeing abilities — piques her curiosity. Does he never lie (“Everyone lies,” he says), or can she not detect his lies specifically?
Over the next several days, she tries everything she can think of to coax a lie out of him, from prying into his career (Deuk-chan answers for him) to asking outright for him to lie that she’s pretty (Do-ha: “You kind of are, though…”).
They won’t admit it yet, but these two are quickly developing an adorable fondness for each other. Except things get complicated for Sol-hee because an old flame reappears: Kang-min, the police officer we saw last week. He and Sol-hee were briefly engaged (we get glimpses of a magically beautiful proposal) before something happened and he started lying to her.
That’s her #1 dealbreaker, and they haven’t had contact in years — until now, when he transfers to the police station in her neighborhood. On purpose, because he wanted to apologize and knew she’d never meet up with him unless it was by “coincidence.”
The first time they meet, it is by coincidence, as he’s called to deal with the reporters who cornered Do-ha in Sol-hee’s apartment. But then Kang-min seeks her out at the tarot café at closing, and much as I want to like him (he seems genuine), there’s something slightly unsettling about it all. And yet again, Do-ha is there to step between them. Sol-hee lies that he’s her boyfriend, and he plays along, walking her home hand-in-hand just to be safe.
Meanwhile, Do-ha is dealing with a complicated relationship of his own. Or, rather, the relationship Sha-on wants to have with him. He’s been in her corner since before her debut, and now she’s desperate for his attention. When she exaggerates a dance injury to gain sympathy points, Do-ha realizes things have gone too far and talks to Deuk-chan about no longer writing exclusively for her.
Sha-on takes the news hard. She calls Do-ha to say goodbye, and it’s so similar to what happened with his ex-girlfriend, who threatened (and perhaps succeeded?) to kill herself when he broke up with her, that Do-ha panics. Sol-hee drives him to the beach where Sha-on is wading into the waves, and Do-ha wordlessly drags Sha-on out of the water and carries her to the car. Sha-on pouts when she sees Sol-hee, who chooses not to say anything when Sha-on’s pointed “I wanted to die” pings as falsehood.
After handing Sha-on off to her manager, Do-ha falls asleep, dreaming about his past interrogation when the officer screamed at him to confess. As Sol-hee tries to wake him up, he murmurs, “I didn’t kill her.” And there it is: the lie Sol-hee has been waiting for.
If there’s one thing this week hammered home, it’s that Sol-hee’s lie detection itself can be misleading. Her clients’ boyfriend was lying about being busy with work and cagey about marriage… because he was planning a surprise proposal. Do-ha dodges risky questions by giving technically true but vague answers. Nonverbal cues (like nodding in agreement with someone else’s lies) don’t have any effect on her at all. So I imagine Do-ha’s “lie” is more a case of him believing he’s responsible for the girl’s death, and not what it sounds like to Sol-hee. He considers it a lie, the words ping as false — but the truth may be a lot more complicated.
I’m also really interested in the conversation the show seems to be setting up about the dangers of being so wrapped up in another person that you can’t seem to exist separately from them anymore. Do-ha’s professional relationship with Sha-on was (and in some ways still is) supportive and sweet, but he’s right that its exclusivity, especially on her part, is unhealthy. Sentiments like “You’re all I have/need” are often romanticized in life and in Dramaland, so I appreciate that My Lovely Liar appears to be steering away from that in favor of building a relationship where the two people have support systems and interests both shared with and separate from each other.