Revolutionary Love: Episode 1

by javabeans

You guuuuuuuys, Siwon is back, and he is back better than ever. I couldn’t have asked for a better character for him in his drama comeback, nor could the drama have asked for a better actor to bring to life this errant manchild with no sense of the real world who somehow manages to be endearing rather than infuriating. And Kang So-ra lights it up with her fiery character, which means that I’m ready to dive headlong into this OTP with full commitment. It’s nice to have dramas to look forward to again, isn’t it?

 
EPISODE 1 RECAP

A chase is on in a crowded marketplace, as a determined-looking young woman chases a middle-aged man through the streets. She gets close to catching him, but can’t help but stop to check on a grandma who gets knocked aside in the melee, giving her target the chance to run away.

Unfortunately for him, he slams straight into a fruit stand, falling down amidst an avalanche of apples. The young woman catches up to him and twists his arm behind his back, demanding her money.

She brandishes a paper in his face—it’s a petition demanding her back wages, and she’s the part-timer he tried to stiff. Seeing that she’s going the full legal route, her boss grimaces in defeat.

With reluctance, he withdraws cash from an ATM, which she claims. She leaves the bank clutching her cash in joy, then realizes she’s running late for her next job at a cafe. As she runs, her voiceover gives us her introduction:

She is BAEK JOON (Kang So-ra), and she’s optimized her place in this rat race that is modern Korea, dubbed “Hell Joseon” by a disillusioned young generation. Part-timing can amount to a full-time job, she reasons, once you’ve got three of them.

After her cafe gig is a construction job. She answers the unasked question of whether it isn’t better to just lock down one stable job, pointing out that an enormous amount of money is required to be able to amass the specs required to land those jobs.

As Joon eats lunch with her fellow construction workers, an ajumma sighs that it’s a waste for Joon, a college graduate, to be running from one part-time gig to another. But the others point out that everybody’s got a college education these days—one ajusshi used to work at a major electronics company and the other worked in stocks. Even that ajumma used to be a rich wife, until her husband’s business went bust.

“Finding a stable job in this Hell Joseon has long been a fantasy,” Joon thinks. “That’s why I’ve chosen the quick and long-lasting path.”

Next is a job serving at a fancy hotel event, an anniversary party for Gangsu Group, run by Chairman Byun. Joon smiles to recognize a friend in the crowd and sidles up to him, offering a drink. He’s KWON JE-HOON (Gong Myung), and he looks tense and uncomfortable as he reminds her he’s on the job.

Hearing that this is yet another part-time job, he asks how long Joon’s going to keep working like this. She quips that unlike him, a full-time employee of Gangsu Group who’s never had to face instability, she has.

She wonders where his boss’s son is, joking that she’d like to see a third-generation chaebol in the flesh. Annoyed at her glib attitude, Je-hoon tells her to focus on her job.

Je-hoon gets a call, and seems more resigned than surprised when his friend starts blubbering loudly from his end on a first-class flight. The friend sobs drunkenly that “Chae-ri,” whom he was supposed to meet in Bali, never showed up. The other passengers grumble in complaint, so the flight attendant commandeers the phone, tells Je-hoon that they’re mid-flight and need to cut the call short, and hangs up.

This is BYUN HYUK (Choi Siwon), and he continues to wail about Chae-ri, then pleads for another drink. The attendant refuses, so Hyuk complains about the bad service and gets up to leave, just as the plane hits turbulence, sending him staggering—landing his hands right on the flight attendant’s chest. Cue horrified screams.

Hyuk is just as shocked as she is, and when she shoves him away, he staggers backward… then staggers forward again when the plane hits more turbulence. He accidentally grabs her in a hug.

Hyuk stumbles with each bout of turbulence, until the co-pilot comes out with a taser and shocks him with it. That sends him slumping into his seat, unconscious.

At the Gangsu Group party, the chairman and his wife are joined by their handsome elder son, BYUN WOO-SUNG (Lee Jae-yoon). When asked where the younger son is, Mom’s smile falters and she says he’s on his way. Woo-sung makes the excuse that his brother caught a cold and can’t make it tonight, and immediately they’re asked if he’s gotten into trouble again. Little bro’s got himself a reputation, ha.

It’s Je-hoon who arrives to clean up Hyuk’s airport situation, looking stone-faced as he regards Hyuk, cuffed and tied to a chair. Hyuk plays for sympathy and pouts that he has a flying phobia, and that he was only clutching the flight attendant as a lifeline.

Je-hoon clenches his fist in aggravation, but carries out his job efficiently, presenting the pilot and flight attendant with an agreement and a box of beverages (aka, a bribe). They don’t look happy about it.

Je-hoon returns to Hyuk snoring away in custody, and kicks him awake. Next thing we know, Je-hoon and Hyuk are running through the hotel lobby toward the company party.

The late arrival doesn’t spare him his father’s wrath, and Chairman Byun goes after his son with a golf club. He chases Hyuk around the suite throwing things at his head, and Hyuk dodges while insisting that he had real reasons. He hides behind his mother (ha), but continues to speak in his defense.

But when Je-hoon hands the chairman the requested baseball bat, it’s Je-hoon whom the chairman orders to turn himself over. Je-hoon complies, presenting himself to take the punishment for not managing Hyuk properly. Dad slams the bat into Je-hoon’s backside several times, hard, and Hyuk finally scrambles to his knees and apologizes. In a surprisingly mature voice, he assumes blame for everything and asks that Dad hit him instead.

Dad tosses the bat away and orders Hyuk to stay out of his sight for the time being. After everyone else leaves, Hyuk asks Je-hoon why his father never once has listened to his explanations. “It seems like he’s getting angry just to get angry,” Hyuk says, adding that his father is the king.

Je-hoon tells Hyuk that before he complains, he should remember that he also enjoys privilege because of that.

Je-hoon limps to his car and drives home, while Joon stays late to finish clean-up duty. Je-hoon catches a glimpse of her at the bus stop and pulls over, but Joon’s bus pulls up just then, and she boards without seeing him.

Je-hoon drives to Joon’s house anyway, arriving before she does. It’s only after he sees her arriving safely at her rooftop room that he heads home.

The next morning, Je-hoon arrives at the office and finds Joon there too, distributing promotional drinks to the staff. She sends him a cheery wave, but his face tightens—he seems to really hate that she works so many part-timers.

Je-hoon pulls her aside to hand her a job application for Gangsu Group, criticizing her current methods. She asks if he thinks her delivery job is beneath her, and says that he may think his work is superior, but she doesn’t want to make her money dangling around a chaebol.

Je-hoon points out that she’s also working for The Man, but she counters that at least she doesn’t go around cleaning up The Man’s son’s messes. She returns the application and tells him she’s uninterested in a full-time position, especially at this company.

Je-hoon meets with a prosecutor sunbae and offers him a drink box of bribe money to wrap up this incident. The prosecutor notes that Je-hoon works hard to clean up the chaebol’s media image and expresses his surprise that Je-hoon went this route rather than pursuing law after being top of his class. Why does he live like this?

Je-hoon clenches his fist, but smiles at his sunbae and says they’re not very different, taking salaries to make a living. Je-hoon notes that it’s hard to refuse orders from above, and calls the drink box “not a bribe, but consolation.” And then it’s his turn to take the upper hand, offering his sunbae a job in the corporate legal department if he ever needs it.

Next, Je-hoon reports about his successful meeting with the prosecutor to Hyuk’s hyung, Woo-sung, who’s also the head of the management support department. He hands over a flash drive containing the only copy of something—evidence the prosecutor handed over.

Woo-sung sighs that he has no idea what’s going on in his brother’s head, and Je-hoon supposes that Hyuk is so emotion-driven that it leads to a lot of mistakes. They both figure that he’ll at least be quiet for a while, now that he’s been mightily scolded over this.

Hyuk is currently brooding it out at a hotel pool, telling himself that there is probably a good reason Chae-ri isn’t reachable and that he ought not obsess over it. But as he soaks underwater, he overhears a girl’s voice nearby, and bursts up swearing he heard Chae-ri.

He races back to the locker room, only to discover he’s lost his locker key. So he waits for someone to look the other way, then swipes their dry clothing and changes into it. Out in the hall, he barely gets a glimpse of a man and woman walking away, the man’s arm slung around her. Hyuk misses their elevator and heads up the stairs, sure that he just saw Chae-ri.

When he arrives on Chae-ri’s floor, a hotel employee is scurrying down the corridor, and he follows. The employee joins a developing situation in a guest’s suite: Chae-ri’s earring has gone missing and she accuses the maid—Joon—of stealing it.

Hyuk follows the loud voice to the open doorway… and sees his beloved Chae-ri in the room with another guy. A montage of memories floods Hyuk’s brain, of showering Chae-ri in luxury gifts and throwing her lavish parties. He stares at her with a crushed expression as he recalls how she’d promised to meet him in Bali.

Chae-ri doesn’t notice him, though, as busy as she is with accusing Joon of theft. Joon defends herself politely but firmly, but Chae-ri’s bratty attitude provokes her into speaking harshly. Chae-ri lunges for Joon and yanks her hair, Joon yanks back, and suddenly they’re locked in a screaming fit.

They’re pulled apart by another employee and Joon ordered to apologize, which makes her indignant. But a higher-level manager (Lee Yoon-ji cameo) arrives and barks that Joon needs to apologize because Chae-ri is the customer. The manager apologizes, but Chae-ri demands an apology from the maid.

Fighting her anger, Joon forces herself to bow deeply… and then grabs the trash bag and empties the contents all over the carpet, flinging trash aside using the excuse of looking for the lost earring. The guests are appalled, but Hyuk watches with growing amusement as Joon stands up to her unfair orders, saying that she did nothing wrong. The manager simply declares that “the customer is king.”

Just then, Chae-ri’s side boyfriend spots Hyuk in the doorway, and he immediately moves to turn his face away. As he steps aside, his bare foot lands on the missing earring and he yelps in pain. He flicks the earring off his foot, and it goes flyyyying through the air before everyone’s eyes.

Joon reacts faster than Chae-ri, and steps on top of the earring, declaring, “King, my foot. Apologies should come from the person who committed the wrong. Apologize. If you apologize, I’ll move my foot.”

Hyuk watches Joon with growing amazement, and breathes, “Daebak.”

Chae-ri bursts into a wailing fit, and the manager sinks to her knees in apology. Joon just warns Chae-ri that she could sue her for false accusations but won’t this time, then storms off in a huff, pushing past Hyuk.

Chae-ri continues to wail until she looks up to see Hyuk standing there. Caught two-timing red-handed, she calls after him, but he just smiles and turns around, walking away. Hyuk’s monologue turns dramatic as his exit walk turns slo-mo, and he recites (from the poem “Empty House” by Ki Hyung-do):

Losing my love, I write
Goodbye, those short nights
Goodbye, those desires that are
mine no longer.

In the lobby, Hyuk comes upon Joon getting reamed by the manager, who says she lacks the basic requirements of an employee. Joon retorts that employees work for money, and shouldn’t have to sell their personalities too. “Money is personality, at least here,” the manager tells her, “because the wages you receive come directly out of the customers’ wallets.”

At that, Hyuk murmurs to himself, “That’s not quite right.” Joon argues that if she has to give up her emotions and her personality to work this job, then the pay is way too low. The manager tells her to quit, then, and Hyuk steps in to argue with that logic.

At the last second, he remembers Je-hoon’s warning to keep a low profile, which prevents him from throwing his name around. Instead, he argues that it’s unjust to make someone who was wrongly accused bow down before her accuser.

Hyuk doesn’t realize that he’s wearing the uniform of a spa employee, but the manager does and decries the hotel’s employee training standards. Joon flings off her maid’s apron, telling the manager to deposit her wages into her account. Ah, I love that look of awe that takes over Hyuk’s face whenever Joon’s being feisty.

Hyuk chimes in with his support, and faced with such insubordination, the manager orders them off the premises. They’re escorted off the grounds, and Joon yells back that this is unlawful termination.

Joon asks if Hyuk is a part-time employee at the spa, and when he says no, she gasps at the thought that they’d treat a full-time employee so shabbily here. Hyuk just wonders what the words “full-timer” and “part-timer” even mean. LOL.

Joon urges Hyuk to report this to the labor board, incensed on his behalf. He asks if that’s really necessary, but Joon taps his shoulder encouragingly and offers a fist-bump in solidarity. She thanks him for fighting with her and calls him comrade, and the silliest, happy little smile spreads across Hyuk’s face.

He asks her name, and she tells him. She asks his in return, and he lights up and tells her it’s Byun Hyuk, which happens to also mean revolution. Joon calls it a good name and says goodbye, and as he watches her walk away, his thoughts take another poetic turn (Kim Choon-soo’s “Flower”):

Before she called my name
I did not make a single move
When she called my name
I, at last, became a flower

The smile blossoms on Hyuk’s face as a sudden shower of flower petals rains down on him and Joon.

When he returns to the hotel, however, he finds his path blocked by a wall of employees. He tries to explain who he is, but they shove him back and tell him condescendingly to go home. He starts to reveal his identity, only to recall Je-hoon’s firm warnings not to, under any circumstances, reveal who he is to anybody.

But Hyuk ignores that and declares that he’s the son of Chairman Byun, expecting immediate contrition. Instead, he’s dragged away forcibly, and the staffers scoff at his claims of being a chaebol and threaten to call the cops. The thought of angering Je-hoon is the only thing that prevents him from pressing further, as he imagines Je-hoon shooting him down with a pair of machine guns.

So for now, Hyuk accepts his defeat and walks away. He wonders what he can do without his phone or wallet, just as he spots Joon sitting at a bus stop. Gah, that smile again.

She greets him as “Comrade,” and then notices the scratch on his nose, which makes her exclaim in outrage again at the hotel’s treatment. He just asks to borrow her phone—but alas, he doesn’t actually know any numbers by heart and can’t make any calls.

When her bus arrives, Hyuk hands over the phone… but doesn’t actually let go of it, sending her a pathetic puppy-dog look. So Joon misses her bus and asks if he’s eaten yet. Aw. He does have a really pitiful air about him.

Je-hoon arrives at the hotel and requests access to Hyuk’s suite, having been unable to get a hold of him. The manager cites rules against that, but Je-hoon identifies himself as a Gangsu Group employee and the guest as the group’s chaebol son, Byun Hyuk. The employees at the counter hear that with dismay, realizing he’d been telling the truth. Gulp.

Joon takes Hyuk to eat soondae soup, and is surprised to hear that Hyuk doesn’t even know what this extremely common food is. She identifies the various meat sources, horrifying Hyuk with the idea of eating innards and ears. He watches her eat them with gusto, and muses, “Humans seem like cruel beings.”

Joon asks if he knows how much that suite room costs, and describes the amount as the cost of her monthly rent and food, a sum she has to work a whole month as a maid in order to earn. She says with great indignation that “those kinds” of people flaunt money that they don’t even earn themselves but get from their parents, which only hurts “people like us.”

Hyuk asks what kind of harm they receive, and she replies that it makes them feel deprived, kills their will to live diligently, and lowers their quality of life. Hyuk notes that it’s not a direct harm, and Joon sighs, thinking him naive. She reminds them that “they” caused “us” to be kicked out and warns that he’ll continue to be taken advantage of if he doesn’t watch out.

“For people like us who have nothing, we have to live with our heads on straight, because this is Hell Joseon,” she tells him. Hyuk takes in all these new terms and concepts and tries to decipher what they mean.

After eating, Joon bids him goodbye and offers him cash for bus fare. Just then, Hyuk spots a TV screen playing footage of his in-flight spectacle, and while his face is pixelated, his identity is clear. That can only be bad news, and he asks Joon for a favor.

In light of Hyuk’s debacle going public, reporters swarm Chairman Byun at the office. The chairman barks for Je-hoon to bring Hyuk in immediately.

Je-hoon returns to the hotel suite, which still contains all of Hyuk’s things. An employee finds his clothes in his spa locker, and Hyuk reviews footage from the spa cameras, wondering where Hyuk disappeared to. The manager and front desk clerk fidget nearby, knowing the answer but scared of sharing it. The ladies spot the footage of Hyuk being carried off the grounds, and the manager carefully maneuvers her body in front of that screen.

So Je-hoon is left to scour the grounds on foot, to no avail. By nighttime he still has no clue as to Hyuk’s whereabouts, and takes a call from his father, who is also the chairman’s chauffeur. Ah, that explains a lot. Dad seems excessively devoted to his employer and scolds Je-hoon for not doing his job properly and letting that story leak to the public. Je-hoon can only ask how he could possibly do better.

Then, upon hearing that Hyuk is still unaccounted for, Dad worries about his health, while leaving his son clenching his fist. Je-hoon snaps at his father to worry about himself rather than the young master who’s probably doing just fine, then hangs up.

Je-hoon thinks back to when he was a young boy, watching his father kneel before the chairman’s foot to wipe his dusty shoe with his sleeve. Dad had been happy to do it, but the sight made Young Je-hoon sigh in disappointment. And while Young Hyuk had been quite friendly and treated him like a friend, Young Je-hoon had been much more sober, feeling the differences between them.

He thinks now that he had no idea back then that he’d spend his life looking after Hyuk—a constant headache, but also his life’s elevator that he couldn’t let go of. As Je-hoon walks along the street, he passes by a screen playing Hyuk’s airplane video, which includes a tiny glimpse of his own face as part of the chairman’s entourage. He vows to himself to endure whatever it takes and get his reward.

Hyuk’s mother seeks out a fortuneteller, who assures her that Hyuk is destined for big things. She’s skeptical, given his troublemaking ways, but the fortuneteller says that Einstein and Edison both saw their share of trouble in their youths, but it was all on their way to being great. He says that Hyuk is blessed with all sorts of fortunes, to her great relief.

Hyuk is, at that moment, eating ramyun on Joon’s rooftop with great relish. Hyuk asks for another serving, and Joon happily complies and adds it to his running tab—ha, she’s charging him for room and board, and he promises to pay it all back later.

Joon takes Hyuk’s favor—a place to sleep tonight—to Je-hoon, who refuses flatly to put up this new stranger. Ah, they live in the same building, though Je-hoon’s on a lower floor. Just then, Hyuk’s screams from the rooftop bring them running upstairs, where he screams about a mouse.

Then Hyuk turns around, and his eyes widen to see Je-hoon standing right there. Joon introduces Hyuk as the “comrade” she was describing, who got fired from the hotel because of her, and Hyuk immediately bows low and says, “Nice to meet you!” HAHA.

Je-hoon eyes him in disbelief, and Joon just interprets his unfriendly reception as his usual irritable nature. Hyuk makes furtive motions at his friend to keep quiet, and Joon sighs that if Je-hoon refuses to put up the guest for the night, he’ll have to sleep in her room. Both boys’ eyes widen at that.

Joon offers to split Hyuk’s room and board fees with Je-hoon. She also assures Hyuk that despite appearances, Je-hoon is a kind and thoughtful guy. Hyuk agrees that he looks like it.

Once in Je-hoon’s place, Hyuk explains how he got kicked out without his phone and was unable to call. Je-hoon asks how he ended up here of all places, and Hyuk declares that they must be fated.

Hyuk makes himself right at home, and resists Je-hoon’s urging to “turn himself in” and go home. Hyuk shares how he found Chae-ri cheating on him with his friend and plays up the pity card pretty hard, though we can see it’s just a ploy for sympathy—he seems quite over her, frankly. He asks Je-hoon to let him have just one night of rest.

Je-hoon calls him incorrigible and reminds him that the whole company has been thrown into uproar, while he’s moping about a girlfriend. Hyuk says that it’s his last night, because if he turns himself in tomorrow, he’ll essentially be locked up from then.

Joon looks at her part-time job chart, worrying over the blank spots. She picks up an old picture of herself with her father, and tells him that she quit her job after being abused there. She adds that if she’d poured everything into company loyalty, she would have felt hurt, like her father had. “You understand why I don’t want to be a regular employee, don’t you, Dad?” she asks.

Downstairs, Hyuk asks about Joon, calling her unusual. Je-hoon scoffs at her part-time lifestyle, but Hyuk says she’s cool and calls her his savior and his lamp: “If it weren’t for her today, I might have starved and died on the street. She’s the first to ever treat me kindly.”

He says he wants to pay her back, mentioning the fees he’s racked up so far. Je-hoon grumbles that Joon’s quite a piece of work herself, charging him for food and board. Settling back to sleep, Hyuk sighs that he felt miserable having no money for food, and it hurt his pride and made him feel quite low. “You’re just learning that now?” Je-hoon tosses out.

But then, Hyuk continues that he felt the fool for never once earning an honest dollar on his own. He understands now what Je-hoon meant about him being privileged even to have to vow obedience to his king-like father.

“But Joon didn’t just obey,” Hyuk says, recalling how she’d laughed at the concept of the customer being king and refused to sell herself out. Je-hoon just sighs that she let her temper get the better of her again.

Hyuk bombards Je-hoon with questions about Joon, like how long they’ve known each other and lived in the same building. Je-hoon dismisses the questions, but his mind goes back to earlier times, to when they were at school together.

They’d been university students then, and Joon had confessed that she liked Je-hoon. He’d frozen still, heart pounding, but the words that came out were: “So? What do you want me to do about it?”

Joon, meanwhile, gets angry all over again to recall how Je-hoon had said that people set their value by the work they do. She gripes that Je-hoon is just like that bratty guest at the hotel and the manager who kicked her out. She shouts down toward the floor at Je-hoon, while he lies in bed and replays her confession in his mind, looking wistful.

Hyuk asks how close the two are, and pesters, “You’re not dating, are you? You’re not, right? There’s no way.” Je-hoon asks why he’s so interested, and Hyuk replies that he thinks Joon likes him. HA, you wish.

Hyuk recounts how well Joon treated him today when she didn’t have to, convinced that she fell for him. Je-hoon shakes his head and tells him to get a good night’s rest so he can turn himself in to his father tomorrow.

“While I’m gone, take good care of her,” Hyuk says, like they’re already an item. He recalls how Joon had fought back when Chae-ri grabbed her hair and flung trash around, though his memory is embellished with extra details this time, as she sends him winks and kisses.

Hyuk says dreamily, “I think I’ve fallen in love with her.” Je-hoon’s brow furrows in dismay, and Hyuk continues, “All the loves I’ve passed through until now have just been rehearsals.”

Upstairs, Joon counts her cash happily, unaware of Hyuk deciding momentously, “I think I’ve finally met the woman I’m fated to meet.”

COMMENTS

Well, that was certainly fast, but I have absolutely no qualms about it—I find Hyuk’s clarity of mind refreshing and appealing. I believe him, too, in feeling that this time is somehow different, somehow much more than everything else he’s felt before, and that he’s fine to embrace that fate openly. Of course, he’s lived a charmed life all this while so it’s not like he’s anticipating a lot of trouble (…muahaha), but it’s really welcome to see him so open to these feelings and developments.

I’m glad this Hyuk character is so appealing right off the bat, and we certainly have a lot to thank Siwon for, because damn if he doesn’t have an irresistible charm about him. I was ready to watch this show regardless, but it makes it that much more enjoyable to see that we’ve got one of those special moments of character-actor synergy, where they suit each other so well that I’m hooked from the start.

At this stage I’m not sure this is necessarily a drama I’ll watch for the plot (although I do think Hyuk’s upcoming fish-out-of-water antics will be hilarious), but I find more than enough in character attachment and couple chemistry to look forward to its developments. After a long drought I feel like we’ve been hit with a wave of rom-coms, all of which I find good in their own ways, and if we’re looking at it glass-half-full, I’d say it’s a good thing to have very distinct styles. Of the currently airing rom-coms, I think perhaps Revolutionary Love is the most obvious, the least subtle, the most conventionally romantically comedic. The Monday-Tuesday romances feel a bit more thoughtful and writerly, but I’m happy to have one be more outright funny and comedy-based, and I actually find all the characters likable in very distinct ways.

I’m happy to realize that Joon isn’t a part-timer out of necessity, necessarily—she may fit the Candy criteria on more than one front, but I think her pursuit of the part-time lifestyle is a key differentiator that puts her in a separate category. At first I thought she insisted to Je-hoon that she was fine not pursuing specs and full-time positions out of a sense of pride or self-denial, like she was doing the best she could with her options. But I was intrigued to hear that she in fact chooses to be a full-time part-timer because of some disaster that befell her father, and her particular distaste of Gangsu Group makes me suspect he was wronged by that company. So rather than having her be a Candy for the sake of being a Candy, we have a heroine who’s acting out a sort of fear of commitment with her career choice—don’t get attached to a job and let it define you, because when that heartless company turns its back on you, you’ll be left with nothing. That’s a sentiment I can definitely understand.

I’m curious about Je-hoon and his contradictory ways, too, though I’ll admit that with him it’s more of an intellectual curiosity. I suppose there must have been a good reason for him to reject Joon’s confession when he clearly is in love with her and has been for ages, but at the moment I’m not feeling all that compelled to make excuses for him and cut him a lot of slack. He created his own current misery, in more ways than one, so I can feel sympathy for him but not necessarily root for him because I feel he’s not confronting his own responsibility in his life choices.

But enough of miseries and disappointments: Tomorrow brings the chaebol-out-of-water hijinks, and I’ll be here with my popcorn.

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