Fates and fated once [closure, for peace of mind]
The show’s format is remarkably convincing—crafted in such a way that it bends even logic-seeking minds toward belief. Its structure validates itself with a logical soundness that makes viewers question their own skepticism. For me, it was both stress-relieving and thrilling: episode after episode hit with chilling intensity, leaving me in tears, drip after drip.
Yet, as much as I was drawn in, a part of me resisted complete trust. The finale especially sharpened my doubts. While the participants claimed blessings and seemed to hear spirits in real time, the production carried all the hallmarks of a reality show—twists, rage-baiting confrontations, and carefully arranged drama. Still, another part of me chose belief, caught between fascination and distrust.
Among the many who showcased their specialties, arrogance stood out in some—like self-proclaimed “chosen ones” deciding fate, reminiscent of governments. Many repeated the line: “I didn’t choose to become a shaman.” That sparked my curiosity. If one is truly a shaman, must they take clients and serve spirits? Several had parallel jobs outside shamanism. Couldn’t someone simply live as a shaman, serving spirits privately, without commodifying it? If their role is to reveal fate, guard against misfortune, or guide others, why charge for it? Why turn spiritual service into financial exchange? If they cannot decide their own fate, how can they claim to guide others in embracing or avoiding theirs?
Personally, I believe no god or spirit demands sacrifice or submission through suffering. It comes down to willpower and the choices one makes in life. The show, however, provoked deep thought. I do believe in energies and forces that influence us—just as planets are bound to stars, so too can a speck of dust be swayed by cosmic forces. People experience what they believe, and belief itself shapes reality.
Toward the end, the show felt less like mystical revelation and more like expensive therapy for grief. Watching spirits “take over” bodies to say “I miss you” or “I wanted to live” was both creepy and fascinating. It resembled a refined performance of emotional release, yet the accuracy of details—things the shamans supposedly didn’t know—added a chilling edge.
[Closing Thoughts]
This was a thought-evoking, emotionally charged show. It entertained, challenged belief, and blurred the line between spiritual force and psychological comfort. For me, it left the impression that while energy and destiny may exist, much of what we see is shaped by human need—for meaning, for closure, for peace of mind
Yet, as much as I was drawn in, a part of me resisted complete trust. The finale especially sharpened my doubts. While the participants claimed blessings and seemed to hear spirits in real time, the production carried all the hallmarks of a reality show—twists, rage-baiting confrontations, and carefully arranged drama. Still, another part of me chose belief, caught between fascination and distrust.
Among the many who showcased their specialties, arrogance stood out in some—like self-proclaimed “chosen ones” deciding fate, reminiscent of governments. Many repeated the line: “I didn’t choose to become a shaman.” That sparked my curiosity. If one is truly a shaman, must they take clients and serve spirits? Several had parallel jobs outside shamanism. Couldn’t someone simply live as a shaman, serving spirits privately, without commodifying it? If their role is to reveal fate, guard against misfortune, or guide others, why charge for it? Why turn spiritual service into financial exchange? If they cannot decide their own fate, how can they claim to guide others in embracing or avoiding theirs?
Personally, I believe no god or spirit demands sacrifice or submission through suffering. It comes down to willpower and the choices one makes in life. The show, however, provoked deep thought. I do believe in energies and forces that influence us—just as planets are bound to stars, so too can a speck of dust be swayed by cosmic forces. People experience what they believe, and belief itself shapes reality.
Toward the end, the show felt less like mystical revelation and more like expensive therapy for grief. Watching spirits “take over” bodies to say “I miss you” or “I wanted to live” was both creepy and fascinating. It resembled a refined performance of emotional release, yet the accuracy of details—things the shamans supposedly didn’t know—added a chilling edge.
[Closing Thoughts]
This was a thought-evoking, emotionally charged show. It entertained, challenged belief, and blurred the line between spiritual force and psychological comfort. For me, it left the impression that while energy and destiny may exist, much of what we see is shaped by human need—for meaning, for closure, for peace of mind
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