In Your Radiant Season: Episodes 6-7
by DaebakGrits
With our male lead MIA for the time being, our leading lady tries to find her footing and manifest her own joy in the aftermath of his departure. In his absence, there’s a notable — and welcome — shift in focus as family dynamics and conflicts highlight the humor, warmth, and loyalty within the household.
Episodes 6-7
Chan’s abrupt and unexpected return to the United States leaves everyone feeling adrift in his absence. Although he hadn’t been in South Korea long, he’d charmed the staff at Nana Atelier and the locals in the neighborhood, so when news arrives that the collaboration between the atelier and his company has been suspended while new leadership evaluates all ongoing projects, conversations shift from “When will he return?” to “Will he return?”
But surely, no matter the status of the collaboration, he will contact Ha-ran with an update, right? Wrong. Ha-ran gave Chan a reasonable amount of time to return to the United States and get adjusted to the different time zone before she let herself think the worst, but as days start to pile up, she grows more despondent waiting by the window of Man-jae’s cafe for him to appear. Despite everyone’s assurances that she will hear from him again, she slowly slips back into her old routine and loses the spark that Chan had ignited.
Ha-ran isn’t the only Song sister in a mood, though. Ha-young and Tae-suk went head-to-head in a business meeting as they debated the merits and costs of introducing eco-friendly fabrics into their next design collection. Ha-young, who proposed and advocated for the integration of experimental textiles, was met with Tae-suk’s blunt insistence that they should not deviate from the satin and cashmere heavily associated with their brand. Although she’s used to butting heads with Tae-suk, whose job, as he puts it, is to “bridge the gap between the artist’s vision and reality,” Ha-young leaves the confrontation feeling more frazzled and frustrated than usual, and she can’t figure out why. (But we know, and we’re here for it.)
At the same time, Ha-dam is still suspicious that Yoo-gyum is hiding something from her and confronts him. Not only did she find his tumbler in her grandmother’s study, but she saw that the idol trainee was saved in his phone with a heart emoji. Yoo-gyum doesn’t want to reveal Na-na’s potential dementia diagnosis, so he tells Na-dam that he’d met with her grandmother to score brownie points. There might have been a little kernel truth to that statement, but unfortunately for him, he and Na-na didn’t get their stories straight, so Na-dam knows there’s a secret between her boyfriend and grandmother. (Although, she assumes Na-na is like the rich matriarchs of K-drama yore, trying to separate them.) Add that lie on top of his claim that the trainee put her number in his phone while he wasn’t paying attention and, well, Ha-dam’s had enough. She breaks up with him.
Suffice it to say, the Song household is a powder keg, and it’s only a matter of time before something lights the fuse. In this case, the mess created by Ha-young’s emotional snacking triggers Ha-ran’s ire, and the noise of their bickering and food fight pisses off Ha-dam, who just wants to mourn the demise of her relationship in peace and quiet. This scene is delightfully humorous and relatable for anyone with siblings, but the reconciliation that follows further demonstrates the close bond between the sisters. You see, just as quickly as the sisters blew up at one another, they diffused the situation.
Clearly having experienced similar mutual meltdowns in the past, the Song sisters have a designated spot where they go to shout and let off some steam, and once their throats are raw from all the cathartic yelling, Ha-dam reveals that she and Yoo-gyum broke up. Ha-ran and Ha-young assure her that the world is not ending, giving her some lighthearted ribbing for being so melodramatic about her relationship, but they also chose to withhold what’s bothering them so as to not overshadow her feelings — not that Ha-young could define what was bothering her in the first place.
Contrastingly, everyone knows the cause of Ha-ran’s sullenness, and as it becomes more likely that the collaboration with Chan’s company will be scrapped, she stops checking her phone and moves back to her old seat at the counter at Man-jae’s cafe. JEREMY (Jang Yong-won), the flamboyantly fashionable designer on her team, is particularly forthcoming in his disappointment. He rather liked the new side of her that Chan had coaxed out of hiding.
When Ha-ran takes an uncharacteristic day off from work, Ha-young worries that her sudden absence signals something troubling, but Ha-ran, as she explains to Na-na afterwards, took the day to find closure. In Chan’s absence, she could feel herself retreating from the world again, and in order to stop herself from slipping back into her own personal winter, she tried to cross off items on Chan’s bucket list and recapture the sense of joy she felt while in his company. Unfortunately, without Chan guiding her through the touristy items on his list, she felt bored.
Na-na encourages Ha-ran to travel to the United States if she wants to see Chan, but Ha-ran feels uneasy about the idea, especially knowing their friendship was bound to end once their collaboration concluded. In the past, she avoided forming close relationships in order to protect herself from being hurt. This time, however, she does not regret letting Chan into her life. What she regrets instead is not being kinder to him, and she admits she is grateful to have met him. Through her conversation with Na-na, Ha-ran begins to understand that people will naturally come and go throughout her life, but that shouldn’t stop her from forming meaningful connections. After all, change often brings the possibility of new beginnings.
Ha-ran returns to work with a noticeably transformed attitude, and Jeremy is so impressed by her renewed team spirit that he tags along to Photographer Yoon’s exhibition. While there, she receives a calendar reminder for the dinner reservation Chan had booked for them. Without Chan, she’s tempted to skip it—but Jeremy, eager not to miss such an exclusive dining experience, insists they go together. Jeremy, however, is not a subscriber to the “sisters before misters” mantra, and quickly ditches Ha-ran when he gets the call that his partner got an unexpected leave from the military. To add insult to emotional injury, the first snow of winter begins to fall.
Just when Ha-ran debates leaving or dining alone, she hears Chan calling her name. And yes—it’s really him. Leave it to our leading man to show up on Ha-ran’s least favorite seasonal event and transform something she associates with the tragic deaths of her parents into a significantly happier memory. Overjoyed, she throws her arms around him, leaving Chan stunned and still awkwardly holding out the hand he had extended for a platonic high five.
Over dinner, Ha-ran admits she’s surprised he showed up. Chan replies, “What do you mean? Didn’t you get my text?” No, Chan, she didn’t — because you sent a single text before your plane to the U.S. took off that failed to send. And why, after landing, did Chan not reach out via text, phone call, email, or carrier pigeon? Well, he was allegedly so busy saving his project that he forgot to charge his phone for nearly two weeks. But, hey, he and Ben saved their game, so I guess Ha-ran misunderstanding and assuming he’d ghosted her is a small price to pay — not.
Honestly, this might be one of the most ridiculous long-distance communication fails in K-drama history. Not only does it not make sense in the modern world where technology is used every day to forge long-distance relationships professionally and personally, Chan’s silence is not in line with his established character. The guy who tried to call her multiple times before his flight took off so she’d understand his absence is not someone who would then disappear for nearly two weeks. I don’t care how busy he is, he knows her — and her emotional hang-ups — well enough to at least send a “I landed safely” follow-up message while standing in line for customs.
Even though I’m still miffed on Ha-ran’s behalf, she’s now fully committed to Chan and determined to show him just how much his presence has changed her. She begins by following Chan to the airport, where he forgot his luggage because he was so excited to see her and not be late for their dinner reservation. (Again, I’m supposed to believe a guy this into her would forget to communicate?) He’s surprised that she followed him out during the first snowfall, but Ha-ran admits she was afraid she might regret the lost time later, once he has returned to the United States.
This time, she asks if it’s okay for her to be nice to him — an offer Chan can’t possibly refuse. Now he’s the one who initiates the hug, and later in the taxi, he holds her hand. Without either of them saying it aloud, their relationship quietly shifts into a new phase. Even so, Chan can’t shake the feeling that it’s morally wrong to cling so greedily to her side while keeping his knowledge of their shared past to himself.
And speaking of the past, Chan is still trying to piece together his memories, which are slowly coming back to him. So slowly, in fact, that I’m growing a bit annoyed with how the writers are parsing out the details. It’s already been demonstrated that we can’t trust the accuracy of the flashbacks, but this style of story-telling has also made it difficult to infer what Chan knows. For example, we’ve seen flashbacks that make it reasonable to infer that Hyeok-chan was cheating on Ha-ran, but is this a legitimate fact that Chan has confirmed? Or is Chan now starting to remember the past in a way that would potentially alleviate his guilt for having feelings for Ha-ran? Either way, by this point in our story I wish we had more clarification so we could understand the source of Chan’s guilt and hesitancy to forge a long-term relationship with Ha-ran.
I’m growing equally frustrated by the fact that Na-na’s official diagnosis remains a mystery not only from her granddaughters but from the audience as well. (Thanks, work emergency that forced Na-na to cancel her doctor’s appointment). That being said, I can’t deny that the writers are delaying the reveal with some high quality scenes that show the deep, loving connection between this family.
Without a doubt, one of the highlights of this week’s episodes was the visit to Ha-ran’s parents’ graves. Ha-ran and Ha-young exchanged memories of their parents, blissfully unaware that Ha-dam, who was only six at the time of their parents’ deaths, feels left out of the exchange because she cannot recall their mother and father with the same vividness. At the same time, Na-na silently expresses her desire to join her daughter and son-in-law before her dementia becomes a burden for her granddaughters. Although Na-na’s inner thoughts are somber and hint that her “retirement” to France might lead to self-harm, the family dynamics were quite interesting and tied into equally memorable moments featured later in the episode.
Of course, because I’m shipping Ha-young and Tae-suk with the same enthusiasm as an ARMY member in the front row at a BTS concert, I was especially fond of the moment Ha-young returns to her parents’ graves in search of her missing phone and finds Tae-suk quietly crying as he places flowers on their grave markers. Tae-suk has long been an honorary member of Ha-young’s family. Although his background remains unclear, it’s implied that her parents sponsored him. In return, he showed his gratitude by bringing them flowers on Parents’ Day, and he even appears in the family photograph that Na-na keeps in her office — standing slightly off to the side, as if reflecting his lingering feeling that he doesn’t quite belong.
It’s only a matter of time before he becomes a son-in-law, though. Tae-suk is the very definition of a green flag, and even if Ha-young has her doubts that his chivalrousness is exclusively for her, she’s paying attention to his not-so-small acts of service — like finding a way to purchase the eco-friendly fabric he initially rejected in their meeting or using his hands to clear a path so she won’t trip in her heels. Or — be still my heart — picking her up at a bar, draping his jacket over her when she appears cold, and gently wiping away her tears — er, “drool” — after she drank too much while spiraling about her qualifications as a big sister.
Although Ha-young let her guilt get the best of her, I think she was being too hard on herself. She is such a good sister, and while she may often appear to be flighty and free-spirited, she was an expert when she consoled Ha-dam, who accidently broke their mother’s favorite dish. I mean, Ha-young was so concerned about bandaging Ha-dam’s cut finger and reassuring her that she and Ha-ran weren’t mad about the shattered plate that she left the house looking like a sleep-deprived American college student during exam week.
The moment absolutely truck-of-doomed me right in the feels, though, was when Ha-young discovered Ha-dam is ambidextrous, like their mother. Ha-dam lights up upon hearing this discovery, and both Ha-ran and Ha-young vow to make more of an effort to talk about their parents rather than avoid the topic around Ha-dam.
Meanwhile, Chan surprises Ha-ran with a visit to an art exhibition featuring his grandmother’s pottery, only to realize he’s become the third wheel in this particular outing. Ha-ran is especially drawn to one vase that Sun explains had once been broken before being carefully pieced back together. The story behind the vase gives Ha-ran hope that her mother’s broken plate might be restored in the same way. But because this drama never shies away from symbolism, the vase comes to represent more than just a repaired object — it mirrors Ha-ran herself, slowly replacing painful memories with the happier ones she’s created with Chan.
And, according to Ha-ran, it’s also a metaphor for Chan’s fractured relationship with his father, which she witnessed first-hand after an unexpected encounter with Seok that leaves Chan furious and Ha-ran with a small cut beneath her eye. Chan takes a walk to cool off, and when he returns, he finds Ha-ran waiting for him outside Man-jae’s café, where she gently encourages him to reconcile with his father. Personally, I’m not entirely sold on her bringing this up, given that she doesn’t know the full history between them. Still, I understand that she’s approaching the subject from the perspective of someone who suddenly lost her parents and knows how painful unresolved feelings can be and imagines she would regret it in his place.
As they embrace, Ha-ran admits she wishes she’d met him sooner, so she could have been there to comfort and support him in the past. What she doesn’t realize is that she already has been that person for him. When she promises to be kinder to him in return for everything he’s done for her, Chan asks if it’s okay for him to like her even more — admitting that he’s likely to become greedy. When she tells him that’s perfectly fine, he leans in and kisses her.
Once again, the relationships — romantic and familial – outside the OTP were the peak of my viewing experience this week. That’s not to say I dislike Ha-ran and Chan, but their romance currently feels overshadowed by the mystery surrounding Chan’s hidden memories. Maybe if we had a clearer sense of what he remembers and why he’s burdened by guilt, I could understand his decision to withhold the truth.
Thankfully, it feels like we are on the precipice of learning more — both about Na-na’s diagnosis and what really happened seven years ago. Neither Chan nor Na-na is likely to be forthcoming with the truth, but both have started to slip up, getting caught in small lies and accidentally revealing more than they intend. The people around them are beginning to grow suspicious, and it feels like only a matter of time before someone figures out one or both secrets, as may already be the case for Man-jae. Throw in the mystery woman (Hyeok-chan’s presumed sidepiece) from seven years ago, who has arrived in South Korea, and one can only assume that the shit is about to hit the fan in some manner or fashion.
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