Our Blooming Youth 2023 Episode 15-16

Rest in peace, Woodpecker Lady! You will be — well, perhaps “missed” is too strong a word. Still, accidental poisoning is harsh narrative retribution for being mean to Myung-jin for like fifteen seconds. Nonetheless, as our heroes deduce, that’s exactly what happened. The bracelet originally owned by Young is actually a hollow container for arsenic. Turns out, when Young grabbed Jae-yi’s wrist that fatal morning, it was to sneakily garnish her family’s meal with poison. Meanwhile, our Woodpecker gal — who, as it turns out, had a name all along! It’s SOO-HYANG! — inadvertently tipped poison onto her evening snack. Jae-yi is distraught: just how far back in their friendship was her best buddy plotting homicide?

Myung-jin’s also pretty miffed — why is he the last one to learn about the bracelet’s significance? Just what else have his friends been hiding up their capacious sleeves? Could it be that Eunuch Go is actually… his highness?! Okay, false alarm; everyone got very weirded out by that suggestion. But later, burning the midnight oil whilst devising a Joseon-style murder-board, we’re reminded that once in a blue moon, he can be very, very cool. Suave as anything, he recites his conclusions. Scholar Park, whose disappearance aligned with the prince’s, and who still, after all this time, can’t shovel? He’s Crown Prince Hwan. His eunuch must therefore be Min Jae-yi. And as for Myung-jin’s beloved apprentice? You, he thinks, are Jang Ga-ram.

Meanwhile, Hwan has also done the necessary math: he knows who Ga-ram is too — and that Jae-yi is determined that he protect her. He asks Jae-yi outright: where will she go once her name is cleared? Jae-yi considers. Get a house in Hanyang, she decides. Gaeseong has painful associations. But here, she can teach children their Hangul alphabet, and maybe solve the odd murder case with Myung-jin. (In Hanyang, she promises, wordlessly, I can catch a glimpse of your procession.) One thing’s for certain: she wants an apricot tree in the yard.

Hwan asks if she’ll think of him. Jae-yi pretends to consider. I’ll be reminded of you, she reasons, whenever the sun rises in the east. Come to think of it — that’s every day, isn’t it? (Cute.) Hwan admits that he’ll think of her too. Y’know. Occasionally. When he comes across an insubordinate eunuch, for instance. At this, they catch each other’s eyes and grin, while Hwan steadfastly refuses to admit that “occasionally” is the understatement of the century.

Alas, things are getting politically sticky: the king warns Hwan that his wedding is imminent. Half the court is in the Jo family’s stranglehold; it’s a forced move, but the only safe bet is for a union between Hwan and the Han family. Ever the dutiful heir, Hwan takes a breath, summons the fortitude of years of fierce repression, and prepares to forget he ever heard the word “feelings.” He casts the bracelet he bought for Jae-yi into the water — and, with it, his heart. But a careless word from Sung-on about Jae-yi’s leg injury puts this to the test. I’m no anatomist, but Hwan’s resulting alarm seems the tiniest bit heart-adjacent.

Jae-yi didn’t get the repression memo. As a reward for passing last week’s loyalty test, she’s got cakes from the king. Glowing with excitement, she hides them under Hwan’s desk — only for Hwan to storm in, berate her for lying about her wound, and deliver an excoriating list of her character flaws. (He doesn’t even have the grace to list them to a pond.) She’s loud! She selfish! She lacks maidenly virtue! Don’t get him started on her scandalous habit of drinking alcohol! She’s in love with some awful, awful man, and she never listens, and she fights everyone, and —

He ends, somewhat limply, by insisting that Jae-yi isn’t — isn’t beautiful. So there! This is the last straw. Sure! she cries. I’m so ugly the dimwit I love seems to hate me! She wishes him joy of the cakes she brought him; she’s off to clean the library and not to sulk in the slightest.

Although Hwan appears selectively deaf to exactly who Jae-yi is calling dimwit, his (still functional) heart’s in the right place. Handing Tae-gang a very specific checklist, he sets about finding the house of Jae-yi’s dreams. It’s a beautiful, spacious building, with desks for a school, the all-important apricot tree, and — naturally — a gorgeous view of the eastern sunrise. Later, he meets Jae-yi and graciously declares that he has a gift for her. Cross the bridge, take a left at the first fork in the road, and — okay, no, he can’t do this — who is he? Who is Jae-yi in love with??

Stunned and disgruntled, Jae-yi is faced with the unenviable task of describing Hwan to himself. Subtly. The man she loves is tall and handsome (Hwan bridles), excelling in both pen and sword (here, he scoffs). Jae-yi’s voice gentles: he has immense inner fortitude and compassion. He opened up a new path for a woman trapped in dire circumstances. Subtlety has long left the building, but Hwan, resolutely unimpressed, decides that this man is the stuff of trashy fantasy. (Harsh! Arguably, Our Blooming Youth is a very classy fantasy!) Jae-yi retorts that the man in question is an idiot for not recognizing himself.

But romance is only one concern: elsewhere in the palace, all is paranoia and dark revelations. Grand Prince Myungan is sick to the point of hallucinating. His sister and mother try to pacify him as he mutters fearfully about murder. He’s talking, it seems, to the dead crown prince — apologizing unnervingly to the empty air. He’s so sorry. He didn’t know his brother was taking medication. If he had… he would never have given him a peach.

Wide-eyed, the queen slaps a hand against his mouth. No one has heard — yet. Later, when it’s just the two of them, she hears his explanation in horror: Councilor Jo gave Myungan a box of peaches to share with his older brother. Frantically, the queen urges Myungan to forget anything ever happened. But alone, she rages. Councilor Jo bloodied her child’s hands; for this, she’ll rend him limb from limb.

Meanwhile, Hayeon, having lied unblinking to the king about Myungan’s distress — that girl’s quick in a crisis — elects to seek help. Who else but her steadfast older brother? Sadly, Hwan’s busy investigating leads incognito; she’s obliged to choose the second-best solution. Still half in shock, she confides in everyone’s favorite detective-eunuch extraordinaire: Jae-yi.

The palace holds further intrigue. Sung-on has been charged with accompanying his cousin, HAN SO-EUN (whose actress is, believe it or not, also Han So-eun), Hwan’s would-be fiancée. Sung-on already confides in her; besides Hwan, she’s the only one who knows of his complex loyalty towards Jae-yi. But So-eun keeps her own secrets closer to her chest. Every night, she burns mugwort, ostensibly to discourage bugs. But mugwort is used in mourning rituals. The Jo family suspect foul play: a rumor suggests her mother’s recent death has been hushed up. The king is desperate to bind the Han family to Hwan — but, without two living parents, her candidacy as princess is forfeit.

Back in the city, more secrets come to light. Further cloak-and-dagger shenanigans await our innkeeper couple; they’re smuggling supplies to Byeokcheon — including some awfully weapon-like sickles. In the meantime, they’ve more or less adopted Dal-rae and Meo-ru as their own. They’re determined the kids know there’s more to their heritage than bandit stereotypes. The people of Byeokcheon had empty stomachs but keen compassion: they’d share even the few scraps they possessed.

Dal-rae’s memories are hazy, but she recalls her best friend, OH-WOL. At this, both Bok-soon and Man-deok dissolve into tears. Oh-wol was their child, brutally cut down by Councilor Jo and his men — and the children’s parents, their best friends. But Dal-rae remembers more than the carnage of those last moments. Her mother once prayed to a brightly-colored fish said to be a thousand years old, a tradition upheld across the generations. This fish had no offspring, but its eggs could induce madness.

The mystery of Byeokcheon is beginning to unravel. To this end, Hwan aims to drop in on gambling addict Park Han-soo, the ex-commander whom Tae-gang has been tailing. They arrive just in time to interrupt him bleeding out in the streets. Councilor Jo is at it again: no one holds their tongue quite like a murdered witness. But Han-soo manages to croak out a few last, crucial words. Ten years ago, the Byeokcheon rebels never declared themselves an independent nation. Far from it. They hung white flags of surrender. They were slaughtered anyway. There’s more — Han-soo himself witnessed a woman from the Song family exit Councilor Jo’s residence… and enter the palace.

What a totally-not-significant time to check in on our queen! She looks thoroughly battered by the events of the day. Hayeon visits her, determined to extinguish her doubts. Myungan is the last person to have harbored ill intent towards the late crown prince; his sickness must have made him delusional. She will do all she can to cure him. After all, she adores the queen, whom she regards as a mother.

When Hayeon leaves, the queen is miserable and silent. Slowly, she writes an order. It is placed underneath the usual secret stone, and uncovered by Tae-gang. Assassinate Princess Hayeon, it reads. No sooner than this is issued, Hayeon is approached by Court Lady Kwon. There’s a monk in the city famous for his ability to cure the grieving, through use of forbidden sorcery. Needless to say, it’s dangerous. But Hayeon is determined: she and Myungan leave the palace under cover of night. As Tae-gang meets with Monk Moojin to share the assassination command, the queen sits alone, face glistening with tears. It’s so cold — did Hayeon dress warmly? Oof, I say. And oof again. That one hurts.

Meanwhile, our four heroes cluster around Myung-jin’s murder-board. Myung-jin’s finally connected the dots regarding the mystery of Tae-gang. Jae-yi saw him in the city when letters rained from the sky; simultaneously, he was by the burning tree. Myung-jin saw a black-clad Tae-gang in the streets who refused to recognize him; meanwhile, Tae-gang was at Hwan’s side in the palace. How could he be in two places at once? (The others wrinkle their noses in confusion.) The answer is clear: there are two of him! (Okay, now they’re milking it.) Hwan and Jae-yi exchange a glance of sudden realization. Tae-gang must have a twin!

With palace intrigue in superabundance, these past few episodes have been fun. What a brutally efficient way to illustrate — well, the queen’s brutal efficiency! Revenge-obsessed schemers who marry into the house of their enemy are my favorite thing. So far, the Byeokcheon plot has been incredibly compelling. Using Bok-soon and Man-deok to show that there’s a rich culture and community driven underground by political violence — and ordinary people suffering from the actions of the elite — was a masterstroke. I’m a fan of a sageuk that roots for the underdog, especially when stuff gets morally complex. Even the most vicious of the Byeokcheon schemers have reason for their tactics. It’s a nice contrast to Councilor “My Evil Laugh Gives Me Super Strength” Jo!

That said, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Hayeon’s survival: she’s too adorable to die! But this show certainly isn’t afraid to go there. As for our leads — I love how everyone’s beginning to suss out everyone else’s identity. I love even more that everyone’s scrambling to catch up with who knows what about whom. I even enjoy the spun-out ridiculousness of Hwan struggling to identify Jae-yi’s totally-a-mystery man; it adds to the general chaos that’s part of this show’s charm. And although I was lukewarm about the twin reveal, I actually like it in light of that muddled identity theme. This show truly knows what it wants: to have endless fun with alter-egos. And hey, I respect that. I can only hope that the explanation for Tae-gang’s twin is as twisty, unlikely, and oddly satisfying as everything else has been so far!