NaraLookpeach

The enemies-to-friends-to-something-more arc is handled with real care here, and that's the core of why this series works. Da-yeol and Tae-hyun earn every step of their dynamic shift — from deliberate provocation to grudging proximity to genuine trust — and Tae-hyun's backstory is drawn with enough specificity to land as something more than a plot device. The loneliness, the walls, the pushing people away before they can leave first — I believed all of it.
What stayed with me most, and I'll be honest that this comes from a professional place as much as a personal one, is the question of where the adults are in Tae-hyun's life. A teenager with that history, those behavioural patterns, living in those circumstances — in a functioning system there would be intervention. Youth protection services, mandatory reporting, someone looking at this situation and asking harder questions. The series doesn't engage with that absence, which is its right, but I found myself thinking about it in a way that slightly complicated my ability to simply feel the romance.
Da-yeol's decision to draw a boundary and step away is one of the strongest moments in the series — genuinely mature writing, and his parting words to Tae-hyun are quietly devastating. I don't fault him for it. But knowing that Tae-hyun's only real anchor then disappears for two years, and imagining what that period looked like for someone with his history — the series skips over exactly the part I would have most wanted to see.
The reunion and reconciliation felt rushed to me. The time jump is supposed to signal growth, but we don't witness that growth — we're asked to accept it, which is a different thing. I'm always skeptical of time jumps that do the character work off screen and then present the result as earned resolution.
I didn't manage to see the special episodes — if they fill in some of that two-year gap, I'd genuinely be curious to know.