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The more I read this manhwa, the more I realize I’m not actually attached to Ian as a character. He’s indecisive, he runs away from his own emotions, and half the time he doesn’t even know what he wants. He walked away from TJ more than once, only to circle back when the loneliness hits or when he remembers what they used to be. At some point, it stops being romantic and starts becoming a pattern. And that’s fine, it’s realistic for someone who lived between trauma and longing but it also means I don’t put my heart in his hands.
The one who actually holds my interest is TJ.
And not because I desperately need Ian and TJ to be endgame (even though the chemistry between them is insane). my heart leans toward TJ not because I’m chasing an endgame, but because I appreciate him as he is. I don’t need him rewritten into a savior or sanitized into something softer. I like him flawed, loyal, stubborn, and painfully human. His presence adds depth to the entire story. a reminder that some people love fiercely but don’t know how to escape the world that shaped them. TJ is one of those rare characters who is impossibly loyal, unbelievably damaged, and painfully self-aware. He’s honest about who he is in a way Ian never manages to be. He doesn’t pretend he can leave the life he’s known just because love asks him to. He doesn’t sugarcoat his limitations. He doesn’t sell Ian dreams he can’t give.
TJ is tragic not because he’s broken, but because he understands himself too well.
That’s why I strangely love TJ as he is.
I want Ian×TJ, yes — the gravity between them is undeniable, the history is thick, the connection is carved into both of their bones but I also don’t want TJ rewritten into someone he’s not. His love is messy, rough, and honest. It’s not the fairytale kind, it’s the kind born from surviving things most people never come back from. And that truth adds a depth to their dynamic that no soft, peaceful relationship could replicate.
Meanwhile, Joe represents the usual narrative direction: the “healthy option,” the calm life, the symbolic future that healing stories tend to lean toward. And there’s nothing wrong with that it’s a valid path. But Ian’s scenes with Joe always feel… gentle, but hollow. Joe is a good person, he really is, but the chemistry isn’t explosive. It’s steady. Simple. Almost too normal for someone like Ian, who’s been shaped by violence his whole life. But that’s exactly why stories like this often steer the MC toward the “Joe” character because healing arcs usually choose comfort over fire, calm over chaos. Joe’s love is clean, safe, tender. But Ian doesn’t burn for him, he just tries to breathe around him.
Stories like this typically choose the Joe-type ending.
The quiet home after the storm.
The peaceful life instead of the familiar pain.
But here’s the truth I feel as a reader:
TJ and Ian have a connection that doesn’t care about “typical endings.” It’s soul-deep, wrong in all the right ways, and right in all the complicated ones. It’s the kind of relationship that isn’t easily replaced, even when the plot wants to push the MC toward a clean exit.
Still, even if Ian ends up choosing Joe or neither. I’m not here to beg for a specific ending. I’m here because this story is written with a maturity and emotional weight that makes every chapter feel alive. I’m here because TJ’s character is one of the most compelling pieces of this entire narrative. I’m here because the world feels real, the relationships feel lived-in, and the emotional conflict is too good to look away from.
If the author wants a symbolic ending, Joe is the obvious future.
If the author wants emotional truth, TJ is the one Ian keeps orbiting.
But if I’m being honest? It doesn’t even matter who Ian chooses because Ian can’t even choose himself half the time. Whatever direction Ian chooses, this story has already given me more than enough to feel. And that’s why I’m here.