Joseon Attorney: A Morality (2023) Episode 5-6

Stumbling upon Commissioner Park’s hanged corpse, Han-soo immediately recognizes it for what it is — a staged suicide. A tip-off from Han-soo alerts Ji-sun to the fact that Commissioner Park could not have hung himself, and Ji-sun’s cursory examination of the cadaver proves just as much.

Knowing exactly who must be behind this, Ji-sun confronts his father — has he chosen to abandon Commissioner Park, just to seal his lips? In the face of his son’s reproach, Councillor Yoo remains brazen. Ji-sun can investigate it as a murder case all he wants. All that will come from it is a framed suspect and a closed case.

Our case of the week takes us to Cheongsan, Han-soo’s hometown. Having discovered the treasure used to frame his father in the late Commissioner Park’s possession, Han-soo traces it back to GOVERNOR SOHN (Lee Seung-hoon). With the help of his knight in shining armor Yeon-joo — how cool is she, rescuing him from atop that horse! — Han-soo makes his way back to the village he grew up in.

Yeon-joo’s heroic rescue also spurs Han-soo to finally accept her as his assistant, citing his gratitude since she saved him from Master Jo’s ruffians. Since they’ll have to go undercover in Cheongsan, Han-soo disguises Yeon-joo as his servant, calling her “our So-won.” Squee!

All it takes is a little prodding for Governor Sohn to reveal that he’d obtained the dragon carving as a bribe. He points Han-soo in the direction of LADY PARK (Jung Ah-mi), and off our pair goes to pursue the lead.

But before that, a scream cuts through the tranquil village. Rushing over, Han-soo and Yeon-joo are shocked by what they find — a gruesome murder scene. (Han-soo’s first instinct is to shield Yeon-joo’s eyes, aww.) Unfortunately for Han-soo’s investigation (but fortunately for his revenge), the victim is Lady Park, the lady who left the dragon carving at his family home.

The murderer, still clasping a bloody weeding hoe, is the widow YOUNG-SHIL (Kwon Ah-reum). Having angered the greedy Lady Park with her refusal to marry a skeevy old man in return for a bribe, Young-shil soon found herself the target of malicious rumors accusing her of promiscuity. Although Young-shil got betrothed to her beloved CHANG-SOO (Byung-hun, formerly Teen Top’s L.Joe), the rumors quickly spiraled out of control, and Chang-soo ended up beaten to death by three villagers while fighting them in her defense.

It’s a tragic tale of grief-driven vengeance — to the bitter end, Chang-soo was the only person who believed in his wife’s innocence — and I’m immediately empathetic towards Young-shil’s plight. Once again, by-the-book Yeon-joo asks if Young-shil couldn’t have appealed to the authorities, and Han-soo points out that she couldn’t have trusted in their corruption. Revenge is a one-man mission — and here, it starts to sound like Han-soo’s talking about himself.

Before long, it becomes clear why the village is so hostile to Young-shil, despite knowing that Lady Park was no saint. Isolated from the rest of the country in their self-sufficient bubble, all the villagers have is one another — and that tight-knit community is exactly what drives them to ostracize anyone who threatens the peace. It’s a gut-churning example of utilitarianism and herd mentality taken to the extreme.

Han-soo may be able to defend Young-shil by arguing that she was avenging a loved one, but without proof that Lady Park’s rumors were the origin of the conflict, they can’t win their case. Recognizing that the only way to break through that misguided loyalty is to turn the selfish villagers against one another, Han-soo begins sowing discord and planting the seeds of doubt amongst the three violent men.

It all comes to fruition at the village witch hunt, seconds before Young-shil is about to be hanged for her sins. Having dug up Chang-soo’s body to examine his wounds, Han-soo accuses one man of the crime using evidence that only the three murderers ought to know. That’s all it takes for him to turn on his partners-in-crime, and soon they’re all hollering out one another’s guilt.

Right then, Ji-sun arrives, having been called over — or should I say, lured over by Han-soo. In order to convince Ji-sun to travel all the way out to Cheongsan, Han-soo had lied that he’d apprehended the murderer of Commissioner Park. Ha, smart move. With that, the duplicity of the village can no longer be concealed.

Ji-sun may be miffed by Han-soo’s bluff, but he recognizes a righteous spirit when he sees one. Together, the two conspire to squeeze the truth out of the corrupt governor with a healthy dose of poisonous mushrooms. Desperate for the antidote, Governor Sohn admits that Lady Park bribed him with the dragon carving so that he would turn a blind eye to the murder of Chang-soo. Her guilt is clear as day.

Only the king has authority to lay down the final verdict on murder cases, which means Young-shil’s fate rests in Hyul’s hands. With the help of Yeon-joo and Han-soo’s earnest petition, Hyul manages to exploit a clever loophole. Murder must be paid for with one’s life, but since Young-shil is pregnant, it would not be fair to sacrifice two lives. As such, Hyul’s verdict allows Young-shil to live freely until her child comes of age, at which point she will then pay for her crime and join her husband in death.

With that, the case is wrapped up, but yet another mystery rises to the surface. In exchange for Han-soo’s attorney services, the village head reveals that his son used to work as a secretary for Han-soo’s father, delivering correspondence to and fro the palace. However, someone intercepted one letter, and Han-soo’s father was framed soon after.

Despite his curmudgeonly ways, the village head isn’t entirely without compassion. He’d started the fire that allowed Han-soo to flee amid the chaos, then covered up his escape by spreading the news that he was dead.

Notably, we also find out that Han-soo had a younger sister, Eun-soo. They’d grown up together with Dong-chi, which explains his staunch loyalty. After her wedding, Eun-soo had left the family to live with her husband, which explains why she wasn’t present when tragedy struck their family.

In the present, an adorable stray kitten leads Yeon-joo to a very drunk Han-soo, who’s been drowning his dredged-up grief in his father’s old wine. Mistaking Yeon-joo for Eun-soo, he pulls her into a tight hug, apologizing for not being able to go visit her after she married out of the family.

Yeon-joo comforts him, reassuring him that his sister must be living blissfully. But upon hearing her voice, Han-soo realizes that she isn’t his sister. Pulling away, he gazes at her dazedly. Then he blurts out, “Oh, it’s you, Princess.”

Omg, he knows. He knows!! Or is it a fakeout? The best part about this drama is that I can never be quite sure until the final reveal, because it’s so good at pulling the rug out from under us in the most unpredictable yet plausible of ways. Take our weekly cliffhangers, for instance — they’re not merely for shock value, but to keep us on tenterhooks, opening the gate for speculation and theories galore.

So far, the drama is doing an excellent job at telling its tale in a non-linear way that is compelling rather than confusing. It knows how to dole out its flashbacks in just the right doses, providing more insight into our characters without devolving into repetitive drudgery. It’s apparent how clear the production team’s vision is in the way they deliberately conceal information, only revealing it when the time is right. It gives me faith that the storytelling will remain tight and consistent till the end.

To my delight, we got more Ji-sun this week — and he’s already shaping up to be a remarkable ally! He’s a really likable second lead so far, and I appreciate how thoughtful and supportive he is as our heroine’s mysterious benefactor. Although he’s concerned that Yeon-joo’s adventures may land her in hot water, Ji-sun is considerate enough to respect her wishes and leave her be instead of meddling in her affairs. Their morals may align more closely than our leading pair, but I don’t think I’ll be catching second lead syndrome any time soon. Yeon-joo’s clearly intrigued by Han-soo’s blend of morally-gray apathy and impassioned sincerity, and she’s so earnest in her affection that I can’t help but root for her burgeoning feelings.

On that note, I’m enjoying the pacing of our love line — it’s not unbelievably fast, but it’s not agonizingly slow, either. Their back-and-forth banter is a joy to watch, and I like how their perceptions of each other aren’t stagnant. Rather, they discover new dimensions to each other with every new situation they stumble into, and they aren’t afraid to dish out tough advice when the other needs it. It makes them feel like fully-formed characters beyond just being love interests, and their romance is all the better for it.

Also, I’d certainly be remiss to mention the most adorable scene of the week. In a brief respite from the distressing case, Yeon-joo tenderly bandages the wound on Han-soo’s hand (which he incurred while preventing Young-shil from taking her own life). Han-soo offers her a cheongshimhwan, or calming pill, in return, and Yeon-joo suggests that they split it.

Immediately, Han-soo’s imagination starts running away with him, and he dreams up their wedding, where he lovingly feeds her half a date. HAHAHA. Han-soo has to literally shake himself out of the fantasy, to Yeon-joo’s amusement. Feeding him half the cheongshimhwan, Yeon-joo tells him that they’ve shared a promise — to always be together. Aww. The observant Lady Hong may have caught on to Yeon-joo’s growing feelings for Han-soo and advised her to nip them in the bud, but as for me? Well, if that wedding is actually on the horizon, I certainly won’t be complaining.