Reviews

I need season 2

I’m going to keep this review short and sweet.

This is the kind of story that feels slightly… strange — and yet, somehow, that’s exactly how it should be. The plot is like a train wreck you can’t look away from — in the best way possible. I just couldn’t stop watching. It’s a playful, unconventional story that fully embraces its chaos and creativity. I laughed, I loved, I cried, I cringed — and I’d do it all over again.

Did I mention I liked it?
I absolutely adored this one.

Take a typical Korean drama. Add a teen who’s a fan of BL novels, four new teachers at an all-girls school who are treated like K-pop idols, a supportive group of friends, a few girls in love, and a few who are jealous. Then throw in a secret writer of BL stories inspired by his teachers. It shouldn’t work, but somehow, it does.

The story embraces chaos in the most delightful way, delivering a quirky and unpredictable plot with energetic pacing. The cast is funny and compelling, and the music fits the tone perfectly.

There’s also a very funny Pythagoras and an annoying little brother who loves Coca-Cola.

Most of all, though, I love when a show tackles lies and gets it right. It reminds us how important it is to be honest, admit our mistakes, and face the consequences.

In the end, this drama feels like pure chaos, but beneath all the comedy and ridiculous situations, there’s a story about friendship, honesty, growing up, and learning how messy people can be.

It may not be perfect, but honestly, that’s part of its charm. This was the kind of show that made me smile and one I’d happily dive back into all over again.

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Better than season 1

This season is a breaking up story between the two main characters. With Jiwon, a chef, having ran away from this boyfriend that’s an actor.

My only problem with season 1 is that it didn’t feel special and kind of like everything else I’ve seen. But this season being a breaking up story that feels fresh with characters finally addressing their trauma. The old characters don’t just feel like they’re inherited from season 1 and actually have character moments and the new characters are a nice addition to give the time jump and new location more weight. Honestly everything about this season is perfect. I understand and empathize heavily with these characters. Beautifully executed and a masterclass at romance!

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Storyline felt Off but amazing otherwise

A revenge story where the FL actually took everyone down despite the fact that they ML seemed to be a genuinely nice person. I also liked that she took out the brother as well knowing that he could have saved her father and didnt. Even the reunion with her bio father and brother was done slowly (off camera) and respectful to the father who gave up everything to raise her after he found her. Overall, the drama was done well, however, the end felt a bit unresolved and there were parts of the drama that felt kinda choppy. I usually get mad when the FL ends up with the ML but Lu Dadong did an amazing job making you feel bad for the character and evoking remorse. Great job!

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Opposites attract

A rich actor is suddenly in a scandal and falls in love with a chef while living with him.

Entitled rich guy x normal dude trope finally defeated. Its more annoying x annoyed and the actor is arrogant but he’s still likable from the get go. The chef is kind of rude and cold which is a nice spin from the traditional trope. I also just love that these characters have depth to them and trauma.

The chef has a friend that’s a reporter that just makes the whole show even more messy. It has no flaws but this season has nothing exceptionally new, except for the defeat of one of my least favourite tropes.

(please look at my separate Season 2 review, Season 2 IS exceptionally new.)

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Some things were left unanswered

I really liked this show, but there are a few things that I didn't care for. I finished it yesterday and wanted a day to let it sit specifically because of the ending. I loved the concept of the show and loved that it kept it you guessing who the killer was the whole time.

I liked Tae Ju, Ji Won, Gi Beom, and Yeong Beom. Pretty much all of the other characters I either didn't care for or just hated. They did a good job making you really hate the characters like Si Yeong and the other couple cops.

I will say the back and forth between 1988 and 2019 felt like it wasn't really needed until the very end with the trial and everything. A lot of the stuff throughout the earlier episodes with the 2019 plot just felt pointless to me. Maybe it's also because I guessed who the killer was very early on, but who knows.

There were a few things that they never circled back to which bugged me a little bit. Why did Sun Yeong want to breakup with Gi Beom? Especially because she then acted like that conversation didn't happen. Why did they never show Yeong Beom a picture of his dad? I get why they didn't say exactly how he died, but you couldn't even show him a picture...why? A lot of it for me has to do with Gi Hwan and the killings itself that just left a lot of things unanswered. Why did Gi Hwan begin killing? Why did he change his name? Why was he even arrested? (because it was before they found out what he did). Why was the case reopened and why did it lead to him being the killer? I have more but I'll stop there. The show just had a lot of things after the finale that felt unanswered and incomplete and that's where it lost some points for me.

As for the finale...I had to let it sit for a day because my immediate reaction was that I didn't like it. After sitting with it I think it's okay but not great. To me it felt like they thought they had an extra episode or more and then didn't so they just did the best with the last episode as they could. I obviously wish Si Yeong and the cops got arrested or in trouble for all they did, but I think they were going for the angle of sometime not all justice is served. So I didn't mind it when thinking about it like that.

Overall I enjoyed the show and enjoyed the mystery of it all. I liked it mainly taking place in the 80's as well. All the acting was incredible! I watched it for Park Hae Soo to begin with and really enjoyed it. I am glad I binged it once it was all out rather than watching it weekly because I do think it's a show that's better to binge just because of all the details you don't want to miss. If you like cops and murder mystery shows than I think this one is pretty enjoyable.

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Is there any absolute answer? Regardless watch it for friendship, laughs, and a LOTS of chaos!

⚠️Disclaimer: This drama is 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼 𝘽𝙇. So don't dive into it expecting something it's not. Also, there's no direct romance. It's free from any problematic things that you can think of. This is the kind of spoiler you need to know before you watch the drama because some people were reluctant to watch because of certain topics.

If you’re looking for a K-drama that’s like a warm hug sprinkled with awkward moments and a dash of teenage chaos, Absolute Value of Romance is THAT drama! This gem followed Yeo Eui Ju, a high schooler who’s as average as they come—but when the night falls and her secret life kicks in! Think of her as your everyday girl with a not-so-everyday twist, navigating the wild roller-coaster of love, friendship, and those cringe-worthy moments we all secretly enjoy.

Eui Ju’s world gets delightfully complicated when she crosses paths with Ga Woo Su, played by the ever-charming Cha Hak Yeon. Idk why I didn't notice him before. Man, he can act. What a versatile actor! He is that guy who’s effortlessly cool but somehow manages to be adorably awkward at the same time—basically the human equivalent of a cat trying to act like a lion. And their chemistry? Electric enough to power a small city, but also sweet enough to make you want to binge-watch with a box of popcorn lol! This drama is so eventful that you can't skip any minute. Each and every episode will leave you with new discoveries which is enough to keep you seated till the end.

Woosu and his teacher friends also his roommates as the supporting cast added layers of fun and heartwarming moments, making every episode feel like a reunion with your funniest and most supportive friends. The drama’s quirky plot twists will keep you guessing, but it’s the genuine moments of vulnerability and growth that stick with you long after the credits roll. The scenes of Euiju writing and imagining her novel ideas correlating with her teachers were just hilarious.Euiju and Woosu embarrassing themselves and still trying to look cool was the best part. It's intentionally over-the-top but super fun to watch! But it's not only fun but heartwarming too. There were times when it left the audience baffled with their kind choices and showed the real side of characters.

One thing that I can't enough praise is its OSTs. They were awesome! They added upbeat youthful vibe to the storyline. My personal favourites are "Real Fantasy" and "Sweet & Sour (male ver.)". I can totally see myself listening them again and again!

What made this drama stand out was its perfect balance of humour and heart. It’s not just about the butterflies and first kisses...it’s about the messy, beautiful bittersweet journey of Euiju figuring out who she is and what she really wants to do in her life.
I wouldn't have rated this high until I watched the last episode till the end of it. I'm so happy and satisfied with it that I can't explain my happiness enough. I loved every single minute of this drama. It's sad that I have to say goodbye to my weekly dose of dopamine. But all good things must come to an end.

So, if you’re ready for a show that’ll make you laugh out loud, swoon shamelessly, and maybe even cringe a little (in the best way possible >.<), this drama is a must-watch! It is like that friend who’s a little weird, totally lovable, and always there to remind you that love is messy, magical, and absolutely worth it!!!

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Fascism high

There’s a strict school with weird cultish undertones and a new student joins to disrupt the status quo

There’s mystery with a curse and why the students characters act a certain way. It has school romances, enemies to lovers/opposites attract and childhood friends to lovers which are my favourite tropes. It was fasted paced and brought plot twists all the way to the end. The acting is really good and I love when characters pretend not to be in love. I also like that there’s homophobia that the characters and their surroundings have, brings a level of realism. I’ve seen other reviews saying it was poorly executed and disappointed them but I went blindly and loved it even if I easily predicted it. But the music is sometimes so loud that I couldn’t hear the characters.

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Realistic with depth

Jihyeon moves from a small village to Seoul to do his studies. He meets Jaewon, an older university student, and joins the surfing team to be closer to him.

Does it have a crazy interesting premise? No which I absolutely love it. It feels more realistic than the shows that have crazy premises. It also has tragic backstories that give depth to these characters. I like the portrayal of mental health which seems to be forgotten in most shows. The music and the cinematography is also really good like I was stunned at some points. Their chemistry is so good I felt it from the second they saw each other, the slight awkwardness makes it so real.

The show is never boring and yhe acting is incredible. Eunji and Taehyeong are DEMONS, not even villains that you can like you’ll hate them. I love Aeri, Yoonwon and the restaurant owner a lot and you’ll love them too. The other supporting characters are also pretty good and not just one dimensional characters.

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"The past is never dead. It's not even past."

Heartbreaking and evocative from its magnificent opening credits, “The Scarecrow” fully achieves every narrative goal it sets for itself, gradually transforming its crime framework into something far broader and more painful. What initially appears to be a conventional serial killer investigation slowly evolves into a collective tragedy, an irreversible accumulation of consequences where guilt, compromise, denied truths, grief and memory settle layer upon layer, forming a sorrowful elegy for lives trapped within the failures of an entire system.

Drawing inspiration from the infamous Hwaseong murders, the drama uses real-life events as the starting point for a far broader and more disturbing reflection. The killer ultimately comes to represent only one part of the horror, while the true heart of the narrative gradually emerges through the distortions of a system incapable of distinguishing between justice and convenience, where power, prestige, fear and opportunism contribute, directly or indirectly, to the making of the tragedy.

The killer is merely the catalyst. The real tragedy begins when Evil finds fertile ground in the distortions of power, the indifference of institutions and the fragility of individuals. From that moment onward, every mistake generates a new consequence, every omission creates another victim, and truth becomes increasingly difficult to separate from its manipulations.

Making this descent into the grey areas of collective conscience even more compelling is a remarkably sophisticated approach to characterization, one that consistently avoids the reassuring dichotomy of "good" and "evil." With the exception of the victims of the injustices perpetrated by the police and the prosecution, almost no one is ever reduced to a single narrative function.

More than mere individuals, many of the protagonists become mirrors through which the drama reflects the tensions and ambiguities of Korean society at the time, carrying on their shoulders not only their own personal destinies, but also the wounds, compromises and contradictions of an entire system, while never losing their fragile and painfully human dimension.

Particularly emblematic is the figure of prosecutor Shi-young, a character who quickly transcends the role of a simple antagonist to become the embodiment of a system built upon privilege, prestige and the exercise of power. Corrupt, manipulative and often morally repulsive, he nevertheless remains far too complex to be dismissed as a conventional villain, contributing to the constant ethical destabilization that stands among the drama's most fascinating achievements.

Serving as his counterpart is Tae-joo, a detective driven by a genuine search for truth, yet gradually consumed by the very obsession that should guide him. Far from being an irreproachable hero, he too ultimately contributes, directly or indirectly, to the chain of mistakes and tragedies that runs throughout the story.

Their relationship, built upon a constant oscillation between attraction and repulsion, trust and betrayal, almost recalls the parable of the scorpion and the frog. Shi-young seems to seek confrontation with Tae-joo relentlessly, as though he needs him as a moral reflection of the man, he himself might have become, while Tae-joo spends much of his life desperately trying to prove that a fundamental difference exists between them.

And yet, proximity to Evil deforms even those who stubbornly attempt to fight it, making their relationship one of the most tragic and complex pillars of the entire drama.

Equally compelling is the portrayal of serial killer Ki-hwan, a character the drama consistently refuses to turn into either an exceptional monster or a near-mythological figure. Far removed from the image of the omnipotent criminal mastermind, Ki-hwan emerges instead as an ordinary man, socially invisible, consumed by envy, resentment and a profound sense of inadequacy.

What makes him even more unsettling is precisely this apparent ordinariness. The moment he chooses to let his brother Ki-beom take the blame and be sacrificed in his place marks the true point of no return for the story, not only on a criminal level, but on a deeply human one as well. In that decision lies more than a simple instinct for self-preservation; it becomes the ultimate rejection of any emotional, familial or moral bond.

As the narrative shifts between past and present, the conversations between Ki-hwan and Tae-joo in 2019 gradually take on the shape of a long and painful psychological examination, one in which the killer continues to exert a subtle form of control over the detective. What emerges from these encounters is not the portrait of a man haunted by his crimes or consumed by remorse. Instead, Ki-hwan seems to observe events with an almost playful detachment, as though the suffering he caused were little more than a secondary element in a game that began decades earlier.

For this reason, their final confrontation never feels like a liberating reckoning. What unfolds instead is the continuation of a wound that has remained open for more than thirty years, a suspended dialogue between two men who have spent their lives imprisoned, albeit in profoundly different ways, by the consequences of the same tragedy.

Standing before that prison door as it closes for the last time, Ki-hwan makes one final attempt to preserve the toxic bond that, for three decades, allowed him to remain at the centre of someone else's life.

While the investigation provides the narrative's driving force, some of the drama's most powerful and emotionally resonant moments emerge through its intricate family dynamics. Revelations involving hidden identities, blood ties, children unaware of their origins and long-buried truths gradually take on the contours of a modern Greek tragedy, where fate cruelly intertwines victims, perpetrators and survivors alike.

The revelation that Tae-joo, Shi-young and Sun-young share the same family origins is far more than a melodramatic twist. As the story unfolds, it becomes yet another reminder of the extent to which the past continues to shape the lives of its characters, making the boundary between individual responsibility and inherited burdens all the more painful.

Paradoxically, it is precisely when the institutions reveal their inability to deliver genuine justice that the drama discovers its most sincere form of redemption. Not in courtrooms, nor in investigations reopened decades later, but in human relationships. Truths are finally revealed, identities acknowledged, sacrifices made for the sake of others, and difficult paths towards forgiveness begin to achieve what the justice system never could.

Young-beom stands as perhaps the clearest example of this. Forced to reconstruct the memory of a father he never knew, and initially convinced that Tae-joo bore primary responsibility for his death, his gradual understanding of the truth emerges not through a verdict or a decisive piece of evidence, but through encounters with those who lived through the tragedy and continue to carry its scars.

Even more significant is the way the drama approaches its innocents. Characters such as Ki-beom, Seok-man, Young-beom, the grieving family of little Hye-jin, whose tragic fate continues to echo throughout the narrative, and, ultimately, Tae-joo himself, endure irreparable losses, stolen years and a pain that no verdict could ever erase, yet they are never defined by resentment.

In a story shaped by compromises, omissions and shared responsibility, they become the guardians of its most profoundly human quality: the ability to keep living without allowing the injustice they suffered to become a form of poison in its own right.

As the moving epilogue suggests, some wounds can never truly heal, and certain absences can never be filled. They may, however, be understood, shared and, perhaps, accepted. It is within this fragile possibility of reconciliation with the past that “The Scarecrow” finds its deepest and most affecting form of hope.

In a television landscape that too often relies on narrative shortcuts, easy absolutions and simplified moral frameworks, “The Scarecrow” stands as a rare example of writing capable of engaging with complex material without betraying its contradictions. While deeply rooted in a story tied to modern South Korean history, the drama ultimately speaks a universal language, transforming its criminal narrative into a reflection on power, responsibility, memory and the consequences of our choices.

A result made possible not only by the quality of the writing, but also by an extraordinary ensemble cast whose commitment and emotional authenticity elevate every stage of the narrative. While Park Hae-soo, Lee Hee-joon and Jung Moon-sung deliver performances of remarkable depth and intensity, one of the drama's greatest strengths lies in the collective work of its entire cast. From leading roles to supporting characters, each performer contributes to creating a world that feels lived-in, believable and profoundly human, allowing even the smallest emotional nuances of the story to resonate with remarkable force.

The series offers neither complete consolation nor fully restorative justice. Some wounds remain open, some wrongs go unpunished, and many lives continue to bear the marks of what happened. Yet, without ever abandoning its bitterness, “The Scarecrow” suggests that understanding the past may be the first step towards no longer being imprisoned by it.

More than a story about the guilty and the innocent, “The Scarecrow” is a story about people trying to live alongside what has been, slowly learning that moving forward does not mean forgetting, but finding the courage to continue living with their scars
9/10

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I hate him!

Sangu does all the work for a project so he leaves Jaeyeong’s name off of the project. He looses his credit and as revenge decides to be annoying and work with him on a project together.

It’s a web series so it’s pretty short and there’s not much to talk about. Cinematography is really pretty with the little animations that show and I actually find this couple cute. Im glad we got full french kissing. The only reason it’s not higher is because the Jaeyeong is an asshole, annoying and cringy at the beginning. Its so icky that I was starting to feel bad for Sangu and I relate to him a lot. I love the subtle (and not so subtle) ways they both change when they’re together.

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