After finishing Alchemy of Souls, I felt a bit empty and decided to revisit another Hong Sisters’ drama, A Korean Odyssey. I had planned to watch it little by little, but somehow I ended up watching until 3 a.m. on a weekday. What’s wrong with me? Don’t I have work in the morning?
I remembered it as having a sad ending, but it actually wrapped up more lightheartedly than I thought—Son Oh-gong descending into the underworld and Jin Sun-mi following him.
1) Is the “Absolute Being” really absolute?
Watching dramas like this always makes me question: they say human choice is important, but isn’t it God who forces humans into those very choices? Jin Sun-mi was “fated” to be a Samjang, carrying a destiny she never asked for, yet they call her sacrifices “her choice.” How ironic.
Any drama that assumes the existence of an “Absolute Being” inevitably runs into this dilemma: why test humans endlessly? Why allow evil to exist? Why create villains and then claim to be powerless against them?
When building a world like this, you need clear rules and answers. Otherwise, the Absolute Being feels pointless. In fact, the Greek gods’ setup makes more sense—they’re capricious, emotional, and flawed, just like humans. At least that’s consistent.
2) Why do I love you? The logic of falling in love
Son Oh-gong falling in love shows exactly what a “mad, reckless love” looks like. At first, he’s sharp-tongued and irritable, as is his nature. But with the Geumganggo forcing him to love, he both cherishes and resents her, getting even more frustrated. Slowly though, he falls naturally in love.
That’s something I appreciate about Korean dramas—the process feels smooth and believable. We understand how two people fighting can eventually fall for each other.
Jin Sun-mi falling for Oh-gong, and Oh-gong falling for her—the way they deny it, then rush forward, then miss the timing—it was entertaining to watch.
3) If not Woo Ma-wang, then who else could collapse so delightfully?
This drama had so many elements that could’ve turned ridiculously cheesy, but somehow it all worked. We accept this “world of demons,” where they casually use powers that feel ripped straight out of an animated cartoon.
Woo Ma-wang was the highlight—serious when needed, but constantly breaking down in comedic ways. He kept the humor alive, and his dynamic with Oh-gong—enemy, ally, enemy again, ally again—was one of the best parts.
But the writer really killed off a lot of characters: Buja, the octopus prince, Ah Sa-nyeo… I felt sad watching them go. Some deaths made sense, but others felt unnecessary. Did we really have to say goodbye to the octopus prince like that?
4) Small realizations
Why was Lee Seung-gi so thin? Without Oh-gong’s signature fur coat, he looked surprisingly frail—especially standing next to Woo Ma-wang. Protect the coat at all costs! Never take it off!
And I have to admit, certain scenes embarrassed me now in a way they didn’t before. Maybe I’m just getting older, but shirtless scenes feel overly sexual these days. Please, Oh-gong and Sun-mi, put your shirts back on!
Final Thoughts
Oh Yeon-seo was beautiful as Jin Sun-mi. ★
I suddenly wondered what she’s been up to lately, since I haven’t seen her in a while. Then I remembered—Crazy Love and Café Minamdang. Still, A Korean Odyssey remains the most memorable for me.