Written by The Hong Sisters and Directed by Jin Hyuk
Production company: Bon Factory Worldwide

What would we do differently if we stopped treating the parts of ourselves that frighten us as enemies?

Maybe the right relationship does not erase who you are. Maybe it gives you enough safety to become who you were underneath the fear.

What would we do differently if we stopped treating the parts of ourselves that frighten us as enemies?

I came to Master’s Sun through Netflix, curious about an older South Korean drama I might otherwise never have discovered. At first, it felt like a rather silly supernatural romantic comedy, but somewhere along the way, it began speaking to me about something much more human: grief, loneliness, fear, vulnerability, and the things we struggle to let go of. As a filmmaker, I also found myself noticing the theatrical quality of the production, the spaces, the camera, the details in the rooms and the way the story was visually constructed. But what stayed with me most was the writing. The characters are allowed to talk about painful things without everything feeling like an explanation for the audience. They are simply trying to find words for what hurts.

The ghosts, of course, are part of the fantasy, but I found them more interesting as a metaphor for unfinished grief. A conversation that never happened. An apology that never came. Something we wish we had said, or wish someone had said to us. A goodbye we were not ready to give. Perhaps what haunts us is not always the past itself, but what we were never able to finish with it. Letting go does not mean forgetting. Sometimes it means finally understanding what we have been holding on to.

I was also drawn to the way the drama treats difference and vulnerability. One character protects himself through control, distance and sarcasm, while the other experiences something that makes ordinary life difficult and leaves her feeling isolated. Both are, in different ways, afraid of what they cannot control. And that made me think about how easily we confuse being different with being broken. We often build walls to protect ourselves from pain, only to discover that those same walls keep out love, trust and connection.

Perhaps the most beautiful idea in the story is that the right person does not necessarily fix you. A relationship is not a cure for everything we carry. What another person can offer is something quieter: safety. Someone who is not frightened by the parts of us we find difficult to accept ourselves. Someone who allows us to be seen without immediately asking us to become different. Being seen can sometimes be more powerful than being saved.

Maybe happiness is not a life without ghosts. Maybe it is simply a life in which the ghosts no longer decide where you go. We all carry traces of people, memories and experiences that are no longer physically present. Eventually, perhaps, letting go means making peace with what cannot be changed and making room for what comes next.

And maybe that is what stayed with me most from Master’s Sun: the right person does not necessarily transform you into someone new. Sometimes they simply create enough safety for the person you have always been to finally step forward.

Image courtesy of SBS TV (Seoul Broadcasting System Television)