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[Unfair Trade Gallery]
[(Long post warning) Analysis of why Lee Seohae has no choice but to be a stray cat.jpg]
If you look at Episode 1, Lee Seohae is a genuinely rational character. While Gam Seonghwan runs around doing all the legwork and physical searching, Lee Seohae just sits in the office the whole time.
(Han Yeoreum capture from Episode 1.jpg)
Even when Gam Seonghwan brings a whole bunch of churu, she doesn’t touch it at all.
(Capture of Shin Seojin barging into the office.jpg)
And then in Episode 1, Shin Seojin goes all out physically and brings back the decisive evidence. That must’ve been shocking for Lee Seohae—she probably puffed up her tail lol. With an IQ of 160, she can’t really mix with ordinary people. She probably assumed that even if Gam Seonghwan went out to do the legwork, he wouldn’t find anything meaningful, and that she herself would uncover the key testimony. Her tone is way sharper than usual.
(Capture of Lee Yonggeun interrogation scene.jpg)
Huh? But what’s this lol what the hell, Gam Seonghwan actually pulled it off?
(Shin Seojin finding the head.jpg)
That’s why Gam Seonghwan started being recognized as “something different” to Lee Seohae. Of course, she still doesn’t eat the food he gives her though.
(Shin Seojin and gukbap scene.jpg)
But she follows everything in order. Copycat mode activated.
(Han Yeoreum copying Shin Seojin’s actions.jpg)
And then she picks it up immediately and personally does the legwork to catch the culprit of the 2002 World Cup case lol.
(“You were hiding here, right?” scene.jpg)
Even when she’s locked in detention, she’s shameless as hell. Like, “Oh, Seonghwan, you came? This place hasn’t been cleaned,” kind of expression.
(Lee Seohae wiping dust with her index finger.jpg)
Later on, as Lee Seohae gradually becomes more like Gam Seonghwan, we’ll probably get more physical action scenes. I’m already excited.
Anonymous (85.152) Upvote for analysis posts
Anonymous (7.44) Mod... you came early again today
Anonymous (23.3) Seeing it like this makes Lee Seohae feel more three-dimensional. She’s originally smart but lacking social skills? Anyway, gifted kids are like this—they get fixated on one thing and dig into it endlessly. They never get tired of it either.
Anonymous (17.232) Just imagining her eventually accepting churu from Seonghwan is already cute lol
Anonymous (18.3) What if she learns the physical stuff and later starts throwing punches first 😶😶
IP 85.152 recalled the top post from the Unfair Trade minor gallery she had seen on her way to work today.
At some point, she had stopped looking forward to the weekends.
If anything, people would think she was crazy, but she found herself wishing Sunday would pass quickly so Monday could come.
“Did something good happen?”
A junior colleague eating with her asked. As usual, she calmly managed her expression and shook her head.
“Not really. The weather’s just nice.”
“Come on, is it because you’re dating someone, Assistant Manager?”
Conversations with coworkers were always this dull and meaningless.
It wasn’t that she wanted deep, serious discussions, but this kind of empty chatter only weighed down the soul of a refined, cultured person. It was exhausting.
“I’ve been watching <The Day We Meet> lately, and wow, it really gets your romance cells going....”
The junior started talking about the show airing today and tapped the shoulder of the colleague sitting next to her.
“You said you watch <Reverse Happy>, right? Is it fun? You keep watching it.”
“Well... there’s nothing else to watch, so I just leave it on.”
Despite the indifferent reply, the junior, still immersed in <The Day We Meet>, answered enthusiastically.
“Then you have to watch <The Day We Meet>! Hong Suryeon’s acting is so good, and her styling is seriously gorgeous. Her chemistry with Hyeonseunghwan is insane. Watching them makes me feel all tingly—oh, Assistant Manager, you don’t really watch dramas, right?”
“...I do these days.”
Amid the junior’s nonstop praise, IP 85.152 decided to participate in the conversation just a little—just a little.
“Really? Ahh! What are you watching?”
“<Unfair Trade>. It’s pretty popular these days.”
Because <Unfair Trade> had excellent social commentary, solid directing and sound design, and nothing lacking in terms of artistic quality.
Not only that, it was rewriting the history of a genre that had long been barren in Korea, making it perfect for cultivating cultural literacy. And above all, since it was a currently popular drama, it worked well as small talk.
“Ugh! That one’s scary and violent though.”
But this was the response she got.
“Didn’t you watch <We Rund> before? The vibe is pretty different.”
“Is it? They’re similar in how they deliver social commentary, though.”
“Ah... I guess.”
The junior was clueless but cheerful, so she could let it slide. But the colleague sitting across from her had a strangely sharp edge.
“The message is nice, sure. But Han Yeoreum’s face doesn’t really suit a sociopath role. Every time I watch, it feels a bit like miscasting. Kind of a shame, honestly....”
IP 85.152 tightened her grip on her spoon. She set it down with a controlled, refined motion.
“Assistant Manager! Want to watch <The Day We Meet> with me? You have to watch the finale! I’ll summarize the earlier episodes for you. Let’s fangirl over Hong Suryeon together—”
At a company where people came to earn a living, shallow, interest-based conversations were inevitable. But trying to converse with people who couldn’t even maintain a basic level of cultural literacy—it simply didn’t work.
The fact that she had momentarily forgotten that made her feel disgusted with herself.
People who watched things like <The Day We Meet> or <Reverse Happy> would never understand the artistic value of <Unfair Trade>, no matter how simply you explained it.
People who blindly followed actors just because they were fans, and those who could appreciate a work for what it truly was—communication between them was impossible.
IP 85.152 genuinely believed the government should mandate a cultural literacy exam. Anyone scoring below a certain level should be required to observe “Culture Day” every Wednesday instead of once a month, attending high-quality films, musicals, and plays—only then would the nation’s cultural standard improve.
“Should I? <The Day We Meet> does look fun.”
The colleague across from her said that while looking straight at IP 85.152.
* * *
Beep beep—. Beep beep—.
The electric kettle signaled that the water had finished boiling.
A die-hard fan of Eun Baekhap and an anti of Han Yeoreum—she ran the 10k-follower Tretter account @eunnyangi, the most well-known fan account among Eun Baekhap fans—tore open a cup of instant noodles.
“Why won’t this open, damn it.”
After pouring hot water up to the line, she recalled the conversation she had with her coworker earlier that morning, and her anger flared up again.
“What does she even know? Seriously. She doesn’t even know how to watch dramas.”
Eunnyangi, who had followed every single one of Eun Baekhap’s works and even memorized all her lines, couldn’t stand a coworker who couldn’t even recognize a drama’s quality.
“Probably just watched a few famous ones and thinks that’s enough!”
If you’d been a drama fan long enough, you developed an instinct. Quick-witted as she was, Eunnyangi had immediately seen through it.
“Ah? That’s <We Rund>?”
“Oh... yes.”
“You like <We Rund> then? Are you maybe a fan of Eun Baekhap?”
When she noticed the <We Rund> grip tok attached to the phone, Eunnyangi had picked up on it instantly.
She had asked with a bit of hope—maybe they were fellow fans—but the reply she got was cold.
“I don’t watch dramas because I’m a fan of someone. I watch them because I’m curious about how people of that era overcame the Japanese occupation. I don’t personally like Eun Baekhap... though I don’t dislike her either. I’m not a fan. A fan? Do I look like one?”
Seriously unbearable.
“If you like that kind of genre, then go watch Eun Baekhap’s <Noir>—same director, same genre! It has plenty of murder and crime!”
Eun Baekhap’s refreshing acting as the youngest member of a loan shark organization, combined with Director Park’s bold direction, had created what could only be called a masterpiece.
“But I bet she watched <Top Grade>! Not <Noir>! Does that even make sense?”
Thinking of the drama that had gone viral for its real-life “tiger mom” chaos, her fists heated up.
“Do you even understand dramas? Do you?”
To make things worse, <Noir> had become infamous as a drama you couldn’t even rewatch, because near the end of its broadcast, the male lead got caught in a real financial scandal.
“And the plot too, you bastard!”
What really poured oil on the fire was the show currently airing on TV—<Reverse Happy Ending>. Its narrative had completely collapsed. It was unwatchable.
“This is directed by Jeong Hongdong—what is he even doing? How does the direction get worse than his previous work?”
Her appetite for watching it with her cup noodles vanished instantly. She had lost her “meal companion.”
When she checked her phone, there were already countless victims just like her.
[Reverse Happy Ending | I’m legendary for forcing myself to watch this trash until now lol fck]
[The Day We Meet | What outfit is Hong Suryeon wearing today? Styling is a perfect 6]
[Unfair Trade | The writer is doing whatever they want with Lee Seohae lol]
[The Day We Meet | The “Sweet Couple” really lives up to their name TT_TT]
[Reverse Happy Ending | Pay everyone who watched this minimum wage for wasted time fck]
[Unfair Trade | That woman Han Yeoreum is just... so good...]
[Unfair Trade | Please when is Haebeom-Yeoreum coming I’m dying this is urgent I’m desperate]
A male lead in a rom-com who refused to ever look foolish had completely destroyed the story’s plausibility. Eunnyangi could no longer force herself to watch <Reverse Happy Ending>.
“I seriously hate Hong Suryeon!”
But the dramas airing in the same time slot forced her to choose—either Hong Suryeon, Eun Baekhap’s eternal rival, or Han Yeoreum, whom she disliked.
“...Ha. Still... Ji Haebeom and Shin Seojin are in it... better than Hong Suryeon...”
In the end, she reluctantly switched to the SBC channel.
Right then, Ji Haebeom filled the screen.
* * *
MelonMaru, a die-hard fan of Han Yeoreum and a loyal attendee of <Summer Day> with 823 days of check-ins, covered her mouth and gasped in awe.
Creak—. Creak—.
The grating sound of Ji Haebeom tilting the metal chair with his bangs hanging down felt unpleasant. It was the kind of noise that scraped at your eardrums like fingernails, amplifying the unease of the scene.
“You’re not even introducing yourself?”
They had to somehow fill the fifteen minutes of Episode 9 where Shin Seojin couldn’t properly shine.
A scene without the one-top protagonist was a disadvantage for viewers already addicted to quick bursts of dopamine.
A lull. The kind that could make someone switch channels for a moment.
“You’re not even answering.”
But Ji Haebeom seized control of the screen as if he wouldn’t allow even that brief moment.
Even without any introduction to him, the viewers instinctively felt his very presence as a massive evil.
“Hey!”
It couldn’t be helped. He made it that way.
And even in front of someone like Ji Haebeom, Lee Seohae didn’t shrink in the slightest—she simply relayed the facts engraved in her mind, carrying the scene forward.
“The bagged narcotics discovered so far: Jeju City, Hangyeong-myeon, Gwideok-ri, Gwakji-ri, Yongduam, Jeju Port, Gujwa-eup. It appears to cover the entire northern coast... but in reality, the strongest ketamine is hidden in Udo. Considering the number of boats you operated, it should be at least 90 kilograms. Am I correct?”
Han Yeoreum grabbed the tension by the throat and dragged it forward.
“Ah, seriously! They tell her to do that... and she actually does all of it?”
Yeoreum swallowed everything thrown at her. No matter how complex the lines were, she digested them completely. The kind of actress who made you burn with the urge to create.
“She didn’t skip a single line?”
MelonMaru, who had been suspecting “Han Yeoreum abuse allegations,” now sincerely regretted that the writer and director hadn’t pushed her even harder.
A five-minute monologue, rattling off difficult chemical names she’d never normally use—if it was Han Yeoreum, it was all possible.
“Ah... this is driving me insane....”
At this moment, MelonMaru was convinced that every genre writer out there must be coveting Han Yeoreum. An actress who not only perfectly executed a script written with blood and sweat, but even surpassed the original intent—who wouldn’t want to write for her?
At some point, Ji Haebeom disappeared from the screen.
The case returned. Evidence surfaced.
Even without Gam Seonghwan and Lee Seohae on screen, the intense tension continued.
Even MelonMaru, who already knew everything that would happen, felt overwhelmed, unsure where to even breathe.
* * *
Aetami found herself covering her mouth, completely focused on the screen. Gam Seonghwan and Lee Seohae had arrived at the abandoned hospital.
“I’ll take the upper floor. Call me immediately if anything happens.”
“Yes.”
Gam Seonghwan took the stairs three at a time. Lee Seohae quietly distanced herself from him, walking toward the end of the corridor.
Lee Seohae searched through the patient rooms, while Gam Seonghwan went through hospital records. The building was so vast that the further they moved, the more distance grew between them.
– This is insane, I’m so on edge
– Please, can they stay together? You’re supposed to move in pairs
– The culprit always shows up at times like this, damn it!!!
– I’m so nervous my hyperhidrosis is going crazy, I can’t stop sweating T_T
The comment thread moved faster than usual, as if trying to relieve the tension. Aetami, her palms damp with sweat, raised her hand and typed a comment.
Input: My heart is pounding like crazy, I’m gonna die, fck... T_T
And then it happened. freёweɓnovel.com
Bang!
The hidden culprit locked eyes with Lee Seohae. He had a knife in his hand.
Lee Seohae immediately threw her bag at him. The moment it hit the ground with a dull thud, she followed up with a punch.
“Ugh!”
Aetami screamed without realizing it. The culprit dodged Seohae’s punch and counterattacked. She barely evaded. The blade grazed her face, a few strands of hair scattering into the air.
Aetami didn’t even press the submit button on her comment. She frowned, her brows tightening. Seohae’s movements on screen were dangerously close calls.
– What the hell, why is she so good
– I hope Seohae beats the crap out of him again, my inner violence switch just turned ON
– lol the writer and director are really doing everything they want with Han Yeoreum... their desires are too obvious;;
– If Seohae gets hurt I won’t let this slide TT_TT
The camera movement was so realistic it felt like being on-site, driving Aetami insane.
Facing a masked man dressed entirely in black, Lee Seohae targeted only his face with calculated precision.
– Please call Seonghwan T_T
– Seonghwan what the hell are you doing!!!!
– Officer, over here!!! Get here now fck
By then, Gam Seonghwan had reached the rooftop door. He looked at the lock and chains securing it, then immediately began slamming into it with his shoulder.
Bang! Bang!
His solid upper body crashed against the metal door.
When it didn’t budge, he grabbed the lock again.
Bang!
A deafening sound rang out. Lee Seohae lunged at the culprit to take the knife. She /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ grabbed his hand to immobilize it, then chose to roll down the stairs together.
It was a decision that placed her own body as secondary, prioritizing the highest probability of disarming the weapon in that moment. It was very much like Lee Seohae.
Clang!
The knife flew out of the culprit’s hand and clattered somewhere along the stairs. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
But there was a problem.
She had aimed the angle to slam his head, but his physical strength exceeded her calculation.
– Ahhh our Seohae T_T
– What kind of psycho rolls with her underneath him, you piece of shit
– Death penalty! Death penalty! Death penalty
– Seonghwan hurry up TT__TT if Seohae gets hurt you’re done
Their positions flipped. Lee Seohae ended up underneath, scraping against the stairs as she tumbled down.
While the two rolled down together, Gam Seonghwan looked at the lock and realized something.
The lock wrapped tightly in chains.
“...It’s new.”
It was relatively new, merely covered in dust—unlike the rusted chains. It was clear that someone had been maintaining this place recently.
At the bottom of the stairs, both Seohae and the culprit gasped for breath. Seohae was the first to get up.
But she seemed dizzy—she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head a couple of times.
And then—
– You bastard!!!!!!!
– I’ll go myself, I’ll beat him up personally...
– Seohae TT_TT what do we do TT_TT
A fist flew into Seohae’s face, snapping her head to the side.
The main OST of <Unfair Trade> began to play. Tense, heart-pounding, dangerous music.
Lee Seohae grabbed the fleeing culprit’s ankle.
Bang!
<Unfair Trade>
“Ah, fck!!!”
Aetami screamed. Those insane broadcasters didn’t even show in the preview whether Gam Seonghwan made it in time or not.
Instead, they inserted a completely different scene.
* * *
In the preview, Shin Seojin was holding Lee Seohae’s wrist.
“...Someone like me... can’t help it....”
Shin Seojin frowned as if in pain. Just the two of them in a closed space.
“I really can’t help it....”
It was a side of Gam Seonghwan that hadn’t been shown before.
As if they had already moved into real-time filming, the preview was extremely short.
“....”
Eunnyangi stared at the commercials playing after <Unfair Trade> ended, then suddenly realized—
“My cup noodles.”
At some point, she had completely forgotten to eat them.
