Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha: Episodes 11 & 12

No one heals himself by wounding another. — Ambrose

Honesty, as the saying goes, is the best policy. It’s an adage that Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha carefully explores in Episodes 11 & 12 — chapters brimming with love but also grounded on the pillars of solemn truths. The show features two sides of this same coin, allowing one to frame the other, thereby deepening our appreciation of how simple yet complex human relationships can be.

The first of these truths to be disclosed is Dusik and Hyejin’s affections for one another. In the warmth of the night and with Gongjin asleep, the two make their anxious but honest confessions. It’s a proclamation sealed with a kiss. And it’s also the first time their lips meet while they’re sober. Without liquid courage, however, the act brings with it a bit of embarrassment. Hyejin feels it the most. She tries to leave the scene promptly, as if the whole moment was a casual affair, explaining she’s heard everything and that the kiss alone sufficed. But Dusik isn’t having any of it and so gives Hyejin a proper reply. He has feelings, too, and admitting it is the only appropriate response to Hyejin’s honesty.

But the start of their relationship isn’t smooth-sailing. There is, after all, the matter with Seonghyun’s confession. So while it’s clear both want to get their hands on each other, immediate gratification must be delayed for closure. Here, Dusik and Hyejin display a maturity that’s uncommon in many romantic dramas. While he’s jealous of Seonghyun, Mr. Hong still manages to advise Hyejin of the courtesy owed to Seonghyun. Hyejin agrees. She, too, likes things black and white. An honest response will always be better than leaving things unattended. So lovey-dovey as they may be, Dusik and Hyejin remain level-headed enough to understand a clean slate is preferable over entanglements. 

It’s this meeting between Hyejin and Seonghyun that is arguably the highlight of Episode 11. Seonghyun is eager to hear Hyejin’s response but he doesn’t impede her honesty by setting unrealistic expectations. No, he’s not going to make Hyejin feel guilty for her choice — whatever it may be. He arrives at Cheonjae’s cafe ready to listen, not to win her over. Hyejin, for her part, isn’t interested in obscuring the truth. There is no room for pretensions here. So she tells it as it is. Her rejection of Seonghyun is rational and truthful. She doesn’t pretend to pine for the nostalgia of her youth. Those days in university with Seonghyun were her lowest, and so despite having feelings for him back then, the circumstances led her to feign ignorance. They simply wouldn’t have worked out.  

Hyejin’s choice and explanation are reasonable but it merely softens the blow on Seonghyun. Still, our second lead maintains his composure and dignity. He has driven from Seoul yet shows no resentment or anger for what others might have seen as a waste of time. He is so gracious in defeat as to even compliment Hyejin for her courage to say the truth. As for her poor sense of self back in university, Seonghyun doesn’t attempt to invalidate Hyejin’s sentiments. He trusts her judgment. What he does, instead, is offer perspective. She might have felt at her lowest but it wasn’t the view Seonghyun shared.

What could have been an awkward situation turns out to be a meaningful conversation between two adults who honor their respective pasts while also respecting their present choices. Here, Homcha takes a refreshing approach when it comes to love triangles. The show is self-aware enough to make explicit references to how problematic these three-person relationships are. So even when “confronting” Dusik, Seonghyun maintains the same level of maturity and grace. He knows he lost to the better man but he still had the balls to entrust his first love without any trace of guile. Jealous? Perhaps. Pained? There’s always soju with Youngguk. 

With unfinished business settled, there’s finally room for Hyejin and Dusik to know each other better. After ten episodes of build-up, it’s a relief to see them no longer hide their feelings and simply be happy. Their honesty translates to an incredible sense of longing. Hyejin, in particular, is like a high school girl on her first date. She is giddy over phone calls, giddier even over the prospect of fate bringing her and Dusik together. She cannot get enough of Dusik and wonders in her waking moments away from him what he’s up to and how he is. Being new in town, however, she isn’t quick to embrace the idea of letting everyone know of her relationship with Gongjin’s favorite son. Can you imagine the rumors Namsook would spread? So they try to hide it — only to fail spectacularly.

Episode 11 devotes much of its story to this project, one that sees Hyejin physically hurting Dusik to disguise their relationship. But so much time would have been saved, with less injury risk, had the two been honest from the onset. The increasing “violence” climaxes to our favorite Gongjin folks trying to separate the two to keep the peace. Hyejin and Dusik try to outwit them by setting up a seaside date during a town hall meeting they raincheck. Instead, we discover that the townsfolk are in on the secret. They know. The best part is that they’re happy, too. A slap on the face, a kick to the knee, a headbutt that leads to a bleeding nose — Dusik suffers, and Hyejin regrets, only to realize Gongjin is behind them. Even Namsook kept mum out of support for the two. 

Truth is a better choice.

It’s something Hyejin already knows. It’s her only request from Dusik. I don’t want you to lie.

But what constitutes lying? Is it merely the assertion of something false? Aren’t omissions also lies? These questions hang over Episode 12, where we see Hyejin and Dusik’s relationship deepen. Homcha is quick to manage our expectations about the two, though. The chapter starts in the same tone as the darker epilogues in several previous episodes. Dusik is having another one of his nightmares. Now, however, we hear a question. Do you think you deserve to be happy?

What is he not ready to disclose just yet? Can a relationship tainted by ambiguities flourish?

Dusik wakes up to find Hyejin in her room in the wee hours of the morning. She tries to comfort him but there’s now a sense of foreboding that marks the entire episode. It’s a brilliant move from Homcha. In the last episode, the show provided all the elations and raptures felt by our Gongjin-official SikHye couple. Now, their happiness is somehow tempered by the seriousness of that nightmare. The past is catching up with the present.

Still, it doesn’t take away from the beauty of Dusik and Hyejin’s growing love. If Episode 11 spent its minutes on longing, then Episode 12 is all about doing. Single for so long, as Miseon rightly observes, Hyejin puts every effort into the relationship. It translates into a bucket list of things the couple should do together, an impressive array of quirks and activities designed to strengthen their relationship. Yoga, dressing up in high school uniforms, brushing together, a date at the museum, shopping — on your own they seem trivial. But with someone you love, they take a new meaning. It’s in these ordinary and at times silly circumstances that the two reveal the inner workings of their heart. More so for Hyejin. Dusik complies — out of love no doubt — but one senses there is still reticence in his heart.

After all, this isn’t a perfect relationship. For all the good things said about them, Dusik and Hyejin are still human beings, free to be angry and jealous, impatient and imposing, naive and self-righteous. When Hyejin worries about Seonghyun’s health, for instance, Dusik sulks. He doesn’t value her friendly concern. Told by Hyejin to let Seonghyun get dibs on the chicken drumstick when they have dinner with the production team and ad-hoc Gongjin TV stars, Dusik does the opposite and childishly steals away the piece of meat from Ji PD, as if it’s a prize to be won. Mr. Hong is kind, no doubt about that, but he has his flaws.

Dusik and Hyejin are not from wealthy families either. They’re not the son and daughter of some business magnate in Seoul. Hyejin is a hardworking dentist. Dusik’s an equally dedicated freelancer. Hyejin’s profession means she earns more than Dusik does, especially with his preference for minimum wage jobs. Here, even economic differences impact the way they try to understand each other. Hyejin notices that after a shopping spree, including the purchase of an expensive jewelry piece, Dusik seems upset. We know the real reason for it is a man from Dusik’s past reconnecting with him. Hyejin, however, doesn’t get the hint. She is like many of us — someone who overthinks and keeps looking for subtext where there is none. She makes herself miserable thinking her splurges had turned off Dusik.

See, relationships aren’t remedies. Love is. And love isn’t an instant cure either. Sometimes, it simply allows us to accommodate the idiosyncrasies of others rather than to change them. Because we love someone, we make allowances for the other person’s defects and weaknesses. Love isn’t always about dramatic confessions and sudden transformations. Often, they are the invisible concessions we take in response to loving a person wholly. Love cannot be in parts. 

We see how loving in parts can ruin a relationship in Hwajung and Youngguk’s backstory. Their narrative arguably offers Episode 12 the material and gravitas needed to say that love also demands to suffer. After finding out Hwajung has been behind a series of kind gestures towards him, the often insufferable Youngguk is confused. Why does his ex-wife still care about him? He tries to remember what his marriage was like and so goes to Cheonjae’s cafe. Ah, this cafe cum restaurant slash bar. Known for serving bad coffee (when Dusik isn’t around) and good beer, a space that has stood witness to many of Gongjin’s most painful confessions.

We hear about Youngguk’s flippant view of marriage life. Drunk, he even pokes fun at Cheonjae’s grief as a widow. So Cheonjae reminds him of what truly happened years ago, that turning point that led to his divorce. Intoxicated, Youngguk had loudly proclaimed to Cheonjae that he only married Hwajung out of convenience, out of pity. We know the cafe’s walls aren’t soundproof, however, even in the pouring rain. Hwajung, who is on the way to fetch her drunk husband, hears everything. Is honesty still the best policy?

Episode 12’s real highlight is in the morning after. At home, Hwajung sees Youngguk’s socks on the floor once more, a small matter she had requested her husband to correct. Just put it in the hamper, right? How hard could that be? Youngguk wakes up sober and finds a meal prepared for him once more, thanking his wife for another job well done. But the warm breakfast doesn’t last for long. Hwajung has had enough and piles dirty linen over Youngguk. Clothes soak in the soup. She breaks down without breaking apart.

Here, Lee Bong-ryun, who plays Hwajun, is at her best. She lends the gutsy lady of Gongjin the bared soul of a neglected spouse. Like her iron-willed self, she raises her voice but still the bass quivers. Is she incensed about the socks? Probably. But there is more to it and all to it. It was about her dignity, too. Everything that had been bottled up pours out. That small house they shared? It now drowns in the anguish of a woman who has come to terms there is nothing reassuring left in her home except for her son. 

Homcha succeeds in juxtaposing Hwajung and Youngguk’s marriage falling apart with the promising love between Hyejin and Dusik. Youngguk had only “loved” his wife out of comfort. Hwajung, on the other hand, has made sacrifices. Perhaps, she had given up on her true feelings to love and serve an asshole of a husband. But she can only take so much. Where Hyejin found consolation and clarity in the rain, Hwajun was soaked in a love that had ceased. The neglected small breaks in their marriage’s pillars had turned into massive cracks. The house couldn’t be saved. Youngguk had loved Hwajung only in parts. Dusik and Hyejin cannot make the same mistake.

And so it’s reassuring that despite their faults, Hyejin and Dusik have the maturity to talk things out. This isn’t a fairy tale. Relationships take work. So they will have to be more honest with each other. Dusik admits to his pettiness. He’s embarrassed but learns from it. Hyejin, on the other hand, had underestimated Dusik’s principles. She learns that Dusik had been busy not because he was upset over her ways. She worked hard for the money, so why would he be fazed by it? It’s an earnest profit spent. What has kept him distant for a few days was crafting a handmade jewelry box for his newfound love, a gift that impresses Dusik deeper into Hyejun’s heart.

It’s symbolic, too. Dusik respects Hyejin and values her worth as a woman. So he lets his native hands build what cannot be bought, to house the prized possessions of his most prized one. It’s a scene beautifully shot by the beach, under a makeshift tent and the glow of incandescent lights. Best of all, it’s unexpected, something that Hyejin cannot tick off from her methodical bucket list. The night is capped with a kiss — one that feels more passionate and intoxicating than those shared before. 

The pair of episodes offer several other glimpses into the importance of telling the truth. Whether it’s Miseon and Eunchul’s progress at admitting to their feelings, or Seonghyun missing out on his assistant  Wang Ji-won’s (Park Ye-young) hints at unrequited love. Truth it seems is an undervalued currency. So much of human relations rely on honesty and goodwill, yet we spend most of our days keeping swaths of our being hidden from people. If not, then we beat around the bush, still paralyzed by fear of saying things as they should have said.

Dusik’s truth has yet to come out. Maybe that’s why for all the affections he has displayed, he remains the most esoteric character of Gongjin. He’ll need to catch up with everyone soon, however. Hyejin cannot fully love him if only he shares himself in parts. He will need to let the woman accept his dirt, his past, his pain, his demons. Otherwise, Hyejin’s honesty will leave her vulnerable to loving Dusik more than he loves her. Hwajung and Youngguk’s story is the cautionary tale.

“…there may be two equally good, two equally beautiful people, but there may never be two that equally love well…for even the most perfect of love…one loves less profoundly than the other…”