Walking on Thin Ice: The Misled and the Deceived in the Captivity of Voluntary Sin

은수 좋은 날
KBS, 2025, 12 episodes
Genre: thriller
Directed by Song Hyeon-wook 송현욱
Written by Jeon Yeong-sin 전영신

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

Perhaps it is inappropriate to begin a post intended as a review by mentioning my own feelings; it feels strange even to me why I was overcome by an ever-intensifying pain, something deeper than mere pity, while watching the series Walking on Thin Ice (original title: Eun-soo’s Big Day). Yet, that is exactly what happened—my heart grew tighter with every moment, even though I usually follow dramas of similar tension with the thrill of curiosity toward the upcoming twists. But perhaps that is precisely the secret of this thriller: through its protagonists, it brings the story so close that we feel as if we are risking our own skin alongside them—or rather, within them.

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

Jeon Yeong-sin has already demonstrated a superb knack for writing stories charged with emotional intensity in previous works (Argon, The Lies Within); the latter, The Lies Within, was a particularly powerful piece. In this current work, the writer places a modest and hardworking mother at the center, who finds herself in such a desperate situation that she can only pray for a miracle to save her. Who would have thought that a miracle would indeed arrive—in the form of a bag full of drugs? Kang Eun-soo (Lee Young-ae) faces a moral dilemma: to turn the drugs in or to keep them. However, this dilemma is only apparent; could she truly have any other choice when her husband’s life is at stake against her integrity? Eun-soo’s forced path is clear from the first moment; subsequently, her adaptation to this new situation and the shifts in her personality are what make the story so compelling.

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

Our male protagonist is Lee Kyeong (Kim Young-kwang), whom we first meet as a cool, "fan-favorite" art teacher; yet, he is more than that, as he truly cares for his students and treats them with genuine humanity. It is a significant surprise when Eun-soo confronts him as James, the man she hopes will be her partner in distributing drugs within VIP circles. James is a professional, solo operative who has survived this life-threatening terrain precisely because he trusts no one. We learn upon his introduction that he isn't interested in the drugs themselves; the profits serve a much larger plan. His goal and its motives are revealed only in small, measured drops, intertwining a revenge drama into the narrative—but the essence is that James, too, is distinct from a simple mobster. However, the new type of drug Eun-soo possesses piques his interest, and their alliance is born. This, of course, is the source of all further trouble, as it never bodes well when people of a normal disposition get entangled in the machinations of gangsters.

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

Because of this, it is predictable from the very start that things will not go well, yet this certainty takes nothing away from the suspense of the ensuing twists. Despite the manhunt conducted by the mafia-like syndicate known as Phantom for the lost drugs, and the police closing in on the network, we are not watching a conventional crime story. The criminal narrative is colored by individual dramas; behind the more important characters, their family relations emerge, giving a human face even to the most detestable figures. We encounter plenty of these: spouses, parents, children, and colleagues who are at times petty, hypocritical, or striving for something better. This is why the drama feels emotionally saturated, even if a romantic thread is entirely absent. Between Eun-soo and James, such a thing would hardly be realistic given the age difference, yet it is fascinating that their "entrepreneurial" connection still moves through the stages of a romantic relationship: the acquaintance phase, the development of trust, the experience of jealousy and betrayal, the crisis of breaking up, then revelation, understanding, acceptance, and final perseverance—even unto self-sacrifice. Yet, all along, it is only about the "job." Even when scenes occasionally (and truly rarely) evoke romantic dramas, there is always a twist—for instance, they may take place in silence, leaving us unaware of what the characters are actually saying to one another.

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

Since this is not a simple tale of a respectable mother versus a wicked drug dealer, the drama reveals the true antagonist quite late. Until that becomes clear, we are given a detailed portrayal of two organizations—Phantom and the police—and it is difficult to decide which of the two operates under more transparent conditions.

Among the recent works in Song Hyeon-wook’s diverse directorial career are series like The Golden Spoon and The Midnight Studio, but his name also appears in connection with dramas such as Brain or Comrades. He is equally adept at portraying human relationships, thrillers, and action, and he capitalizes on these skills abundantly in Walking on Thin Ice. His imagery is expressive, the pacing of the scenes is rhythmic, and his camera captures even the smallest flickers of the actors' performances. He excels at the art of deception, frequently leading us viewers onto "thin ice" by making us believe in appearances, only to correct them later by revealing the full picture. It might not be a spoiler to highlight one extraordinary camera shot that stands out from the drama’s visual world, appearing to carry symbolic weight at a turning point in the story. I believe it is worth reflecting on all that this image expresses, as if it stops time for a single moment:

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

The ending of the drama is particularly noteworthy, being simultaneously closed and left open. Everyone reaches the end of their story, experiencing success, failure, or penance, yet the "what next?" remains uncertain. The drama’s ultimate question is whether someone will fail a second time if fate offers a similar chance, and if we pay attention to how the protagonists answer this, we can sense where the fates of the rushing Eun-soo and the Lee Kyeong—balancing on the edge of a rooftop—are leading. Since it would constitute a spoiler here, I have placed my own interpretation of Lee Kyeong’s final scene at the very end of this post (after the trailer), but I recommend reading it only after watching the drama.

It is difficult to list every actor whose brilliantly portrayed characters accompanied and influenced the two leads on their journey. However, I must highlight a few: from Eun-soo’s circle, her husband Bae Soo-bin, the students played by Kim Si-a, Seo Eun-sol, and Lee Ju-yeon, the arrogant mother Jo Yeon-hee, and the hypocritical friend Oh Yeon-ah. From the mobsters' side, the two ill-fated brothers Lee Kyu-sung and Son Bo-seung, and the boss Won Hyun-joon. From James’s circle, the drug-addicted chaebol heir Do Sang-woo, who represents the stages of a drug-fueled life, or the brother played by Kim Dong-won. From the police, the disgraced yet resilient Kwon Ji-woo, the relentless "hound" Park Yong-woo, and the suspicious Hwang Jae-yeol.

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

The drama is punctuated by fierce action scenes that are quite brutal. The hand-to-hand combat is excellently executed, especially the clashes between the professionally trained lead detective and James, who is an amateur in this regard.

Despite their completely different characters, there is a similarity in the performances of the two leads: their acting is infinitely realistic and natural. Lee Young-ae remains a seemingly "gray mouse" throughout, dominated by an inner strength that spurs her toward creative solutions and a boldness unexpected of her. Lee Young-ae is incredibly powerful in depicting every facet of temptation, the allure of wealth, emotional displacement, and the eventual return to her senses. As in his recent roles (Evilive, Trigger), Kim Young-kwang’s aura makes him dominant in every situation. He brilliantly navigates the process where the face of a vulnerable human gradually emerges and becomes complete from behind the masks of a "big shot." This face is also the actor’s own face, which cannot be studied enough to decipher how subtle flickers can betray the character’s often-hidden emotions. The final twist of his story is so shattering that a melodramatic shade can be detected, yet Kim Young-kwang never loses his sense of proportion, which is why his emotional collapse is so painful to watch.

(Author’s screenshot from Walking on Thin Ice.)

And with this, we return to the pain mentioned in the introduction, which perhaps overtook more than just me while watching the drama. Even if not in the specific events happening to the characters, we may recognize in their coercive situations the similar challenges of our own fates. Thinking of these, it is difficult to decide to what extent we ourselves or external factors are responsible for the misfortunes that befall us. Both questions are painful: why we make mistakes, and why we deserve such blows from fate. In any case, it is unusual to be left alone with such thoughts after a thriller.

 

SPOLIER! 

As promised in the article, here is my interpretation of Lee Kyeong’s final scene:

As he drags himself along the street in an almost trance-like state, someone shouts at him: "Do you want to die?" A mysterious smile appears on Kyeong’s face, as if he had just been asked about his deepest desire. Next, we see him balancing on the edge of a building’s roof—but in a way reminiscent of how children balance on a curb, careful not to step off. He turns toward the abyss, but his gaze takes in the glowing city beneath him as if it were an undiscovered world waiting to be explored. Then he looks down and reaches into his pocket, where the last two pills of the drug—the symbols of his life until now—lie hidden. He holds them out over the void and lets go, as if they no longer mean a thing to him. He takes off his glasses, and his gaze shifts once more toward the distance (many who are nearsighted find they can actually see better into the distance without their glasses).

For me, this sequence made it clear that while the "old" Kyeong has spiritually "died" from everything that happened to him, the "second chance" mentioned as a question in the film has opened up. Kyeong strives not to commit the same mistake; he settles his accounts with the past and stands open to the future with a liberated soul. Finally freed from the desperate need to prove himself, he can begin to live a life of his own. The sounds from Eun-soo’s final scenes bleed into this sequence as well, reinforcing the idea that although the "thin ice" broke beneath both of them, they somehow managed to scramble back to shore.

Disclaimer: All images used in this article from Walking on Thin Ice are owned by KBS and are used here under Fair Use for the purpose of criticism and scholarly review.


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This article was originally written in Hungarian for Ricemegatron Expert Film Blog and subsequently translated into English for Ricemegatron Expert: Korean Screen Insights. The English version was created with the assistance of Gemini AI, focusing on preserving the original tone, structure, and critical style of the author.