Weak Hero Class 2: Episodes 1-8 (Series Review) » Dramabeans
Weak Hero Class 2: Episodes 1-8 (Series Review)
by solstices
Amidst friendships forged and fractured, the specter of guilt casts a shadow over reminiscence and regret. Visceral in its unrelenting intensity of emotion, this sequel echoes the core of what made its predecessor so deeply moving, introducing a new motley crew that tugs at my heartstrings in all the right ways.
EPISODES 1-8
If you’re anything like me, you’ve been anticipating this sequel since it was first announced – and I’m happy to report that it’s a return to form, with new characters and a different school environment but the same sympathetic protagonist and heartfelt friendships. Picking up right where we left off in Season 1, the reticent student YEON SHI-EUN (Park Ji-hoon) transfers to Eunjang High in the wake of the tragic incident that shattered his former friend group.
Right off the bat, it’s obvious Eunjang is no place for studying. Its rowdy students barely wear a single piece of their uniforms properly, the teachers don’t bother to enforce any ounce of discipline, and Shi-eun is content to let the rumors about his past reputation keep everyone out of his path. That is, until a bullying case he can’t overlook inevitably gets him tangled up in a regional power struggle — but with it comes unexpected friends, the addressing of unresolved guilt, and the first step towards healing.
(For Beanies who are curious but ultimately want to watch the show for themselves, I’ve structured this two-part piece as a spoiler-free overall review in the first half, and a more in-depth analysis in the latter section.)
OVERALL REVIEW
Season 2 opens with a flashback montage of Shi-eun’s old Byeoksan High friends AHN SOO-HO (Choi Hyun-wook) and OH BUM-SEOK (Hong Kyung), and oh, I miss them just as much as Shi-eun does. In his mind, Shi-eun’s trapped in the boxing ring that robbed Soo-ho’s consciousness from him. With guilt haunting every waking moment, sleep eludes Shi-eun, and he winds up dozing at school like Soo-ho once did. While Soo-ho and Bum-seok only have brief (but significant) appearances this season, their impact on the narrative is painfully palpable, not least in the sorrow that dims the light in Shi-eun’s eyes.
Amidst the gripping fights and sleek choreography, it’s a bit of a shame that this season has less strategizing, but perhaps that’s reflective of Shi-eun’s volatile mental state. There’s a raw agony to this iteration of Shi-eun, repressing all his emotions and constantly teetering on the edge until he snaps and the punches come spilling over. In a way, it’s almost as if Shi-eun is still being tossed about in the turbulent maelstrom of emotion that sent him into a destructive spiral in the final episode of Season 1.
Falling back on his trusty pen like a crutch, Shi-eun relies on it as the one element of familiarity amidst the uncertainty of a new chapter he never asked for and the memory of friends he never wanted to lose. Alas, it starts to grow repetitive after several instances, even if it effectively emphasizes his point-blank desperation. To Shi-eun’s credit, though, he does have his moments of brilliance where he uses the environment to his advantage – the rooftop fight in which he tosses a flowerpot of soil as a distraction, then snatches his opponent’s spectacles right off his face to snap its frame and stab with it, stands out in particular.
Shi-eun wears his apathy like a shield, which means it isn’t long before the harsh hazing of the timid SEO JOON-TAE (Choi Min-young) begins to crack his facade. As much as Shi-eun tries to turn a blind eye, he can’t ignore Joon-tae’s earnest entreaties for help in overcoming his own cowardice. That’s how they challenge the bully CHOI HYO-MAN (Yoo Soo-bin) — who’s really just full of hot air — and end up cornered by the brawn-over-brains GO HYUN-TAK (Lee Min-jae), who got fooled by Hyo-man’s bumbling trickery into believing Shi-eun is responsible for the damage to the basketball club’s room.
They’re interrupted by PARK HOO-MIN (Ryeoun), or “Baku,” who makes his grand geeky entrance to the tune of the Slam Dunk opening theme, dressed exactly like the protagonist right down to his fiery red hair. Hyun-tak: “Did you style your hair with chili sauce?” Ha, that’s what you call true friendship. Hoo-min slam-dunks his basketball down on Hyo-man’s head like a scene right out of a comic book, and just like that the fight is over. It turns out Mr. Popular Hoo-min is the top dog at Eunjang High, keeping the school in order with jovial greetings. This is where we learn the reason Eunjang students don’t wear their uniforms — because the pacifist Hoo-min refused to join the “Union,” an alliance of school gangs in the region, thereby painting a target on Eunjang’s back. Needless to say, Hoo-min has a bone to pick with the leader of the Union.
That would be NA BAEK-JIN (Bae Nara!!), who fights with a lithe grace and impeccably ruthless efficiency. He’s childhood friends with Hoo-min, stemming from the time Hoo-min saved Baek-jin from his bullies — Hoo-min is the one who taught Baek-jin how to fight, and Baek-jin is the one who gave Hoo-min the nickname “Baku,” though they’ve long since drifted apart. Baek-jin runs a shady operation reselling stolen motorcycles, and the only person he answers to is the formidable BOSS CHOI (cameo by Jo Jung-seok). Despite his involvement in the seedy underworld of illegal dealings, Baek-jin cleans up well; he’s a model student with excellent academic grades and no shortage of scholarships. But Baek-jin’s running on empty, and it’s best summed up in the scene where Hoo-min walks into a confrontation and brusquely brushes past Baek-jin to pull Shi-eun away.
A look of quiet hurt writes itself across Baek-jin’s face, twisting even deeper when Hoo-min remarks that he and Baek-jin are simply too incompatible. Baek-jin throws the first punch, but their next ones land simultaneously — and Baek-jin stops in his tracks, seemingly shaken that Hoo-min actually hit him. Oof, that hurts. Baek-jin tugs at my heartstrings in much the same way that Bum-seok did — both mourning the loss of their closest bonds, and doing everything wrong in their misguided attempts to win their estranged friends back.
It’s in this aspect that Class 2 shines, and yet also falters, most. Bae Nara can convey a whole history of emotion in his plaintive gaze and the subtle shifts in his expressions, alluding to everything left unsaid in between the lines — but I wish we didn’t have to fill out quite as many blanks. There’s such deep hurt etched into the irreparable rift between Hoo-min and Baek-jin, and it feels like wasted potential to not expand upon it further.
I could say the same for the absolute whirlwind that is GEUM SUNG-JE (Lee Jun-young), who’s a total scene-stealer with his manic unpredictability and electrifying charisma. As the Union’s loose cannon, Sung-je delivers a rush of adrenaline in his incisive quips and devil-may-care attitude. One moment he’s mocking Hoo-min to end his “lovers’ spat” with Baek-jin, and the next he’s cackling wildly even as Shi-eun is inches away from stabbing him in the face. Though Sung-je’s comparatively limited screen time makes sense since he’s billed as a special cameo appearance, the plot might have been more innovative had Sung-je and his unhinged methods played a more involved role.
I’d like to add a disclaimer that I haven’t read the original webtoon, so I can’t speak on how Weak Hero Class 2 fares as an adaptation — but as a drama series, it strikes its emotional beats in a series of gut punches that leave me reeling from the intensity of the buildup and the intricacies of the relationships. It’s masterfully acted, tightly directed with artful cinematography, and underscored by a soundtrack that both elevates its key moments and allows it to breathe in its liminal spaces. All in all, it’s a show that may not be for the faint of heart, but it’s one I’d definitely recommend for its grounded take on friendship, guilt, and all the gamut of human emotion in between.
(Spoilers ahead!)
THE STORY
At the heart of this season is Newton’s third law of motion (or, if you’re Hoo-min, “U-turn’s Law”) — for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. When Shi-eun quotes this as a word of advice to call Joon-tae out on his cowardice, Joon-tae interprets it to mean that every good deed will set another in motion. That forms the impetus for the browbeaten Joon-tae to stand up against his bullies and swipe his schoolmates’ stolen phones back, bravely enduring the repercussions and beginning the process of learning how to stand on his own two feet.
What Shi-eun only comes to realize and fully embody by the end is this: he’s passing on the hope and wisdom that Soo-ho once imparted to him. It’s Shi-eun who inspires the quartet towards action, forming the impetus for them to break free from unhealthy patterns and take charge of their own narratives. Hoo-min, cut from the same overly self-sufficient cloth as Shi-eun, snaps out of his noble self-sacrifice to rally Eunjang together in a united front. Joon-tae, despite being the least physically capable of our main quartet by far, has a staunch willpower that undergirds his indomitable resilience and exemplifies the title of Weak Hero. Then there’s Hyun-tak, whose unwavering loyalty is the glue that keeps them all together through thick and thin.
The Weak Hero series shines most in the understated moments that humanize its characters, and this season is no different. It’s the way Joon-tae gives Shi-eun vitamins to help with his insomnia, and how it’s the only thing that actually manages to grant Shi-eun a peaceful night’s rest. It’s the way Hyun-tak ribs Hoo-min for scoring 99 on an IQ test, but proceeds to correct Hoo-min’s proverb to the wrong word order, earning him the hilariously judgmental silence of everyone else in the room. And it’s the way our Eunjang trio waits for Shi-eun at the school gates just so they can walk to class together, slowly but surely melting the walls of their dear “ice princess.”
Season 2 also does such a good job with its callbacks, such as when Hyo-man delivers a brutal beating to Joon-tae, dredging up Shi-eun’s old memories until Hyo-man grabs a chair. That’s the last straw for Shi-eun, who smacks it out of Hyo-man’s grasp and reminds him not to cross the line — just as Soo-ho once told him. There’s also a parallel between Bum-seok and Shi-eun being sent to study abroad as their parents’ way of extricating them from grim situations, except Shi-eun has friends to assuage his guilt and reaffirm their faith in him. Bum-seok hadn’t, because he’d pushed them all away first.
In a similar vein, Baek-jin’s instinctive need to hold onto Hoo-min at all costs inadvertently widens the distance between them. Baek-jin clearly yearns for his old friend more than he lets on, and I can’t help but wonder if Baek-jin lashes out at our main squad not just because it’s the most effective way of ruffling Hoo-min’s feathers, but because their place right by Hoo-min’s side is exactly where Baek-jin used to be. Yet Baek-jin’s targeting of Hoo-min’s closest friends — as well as his repeated attempts to keep Hoo-min under control so he can’t leave him again — simply leads to Hoo-min despising him more.
It’s precisely this irony that makes Hoo-min and Baek-jin’s fractured relationship so compelling in its crossed wires and fraught miscommunication. Everything Baek-jin does to keep Hoo-min closer only serves to drive him away — because Baek-jin’s pride won’t allow him to admit that he misses Hoo-min, and Hoo-min’s righteousness won’t let him see past Baek-jin’s deeds to the concealed hurt festering underneath. That’s what forms the tragedy between them; the sheer preventability of it because both boys still care deeply for each other, and the utter inevitability of it because their natures are too different for them to reconcile their diverged paths.
This star-crossed fate heightens the impact of the climactic faceoff between Eunjang (dressed in full uniform!) and the Union, further raising the stakes of Hoo-min and Baek-jin’s confrontation. Throughout the whole season, Hoo-min is the sole person who’s able to land a hit on Baek-jin — as if he’s the only person who can see right through Baek-jin, and the only person Baek-jin ever reveals an opening to. But by this point, Hoo-min has nothing left but scorn for Baek-jin.
In their duel, Hoo-min relentlessly attacks Baek-jin’s shoulder, gaining a vicious gleam in his eyes and laughing derisively when Baek-jin winces in pain. Eventually managing to gain the upper hand, Baek-jin strikes Hoo-min until his ears ring — but as Hoo-min stumbles, Baek-jin stops, falling back to gaze at Hoo-min with years of hurt reflected in his eyes. There’s none of that in Hoo-min, who resumes their fight with a sneer of a smile. It’s a painful contrast to watch, especially when it’s a grave of Baek-jin’s own making.
Hoo-min winds up collapsing first, but there’s no victory in the guilt that lines Baek-jin’s slumped posture. And when Shi-eun steps in to continue the battle, the clear shift in Baek-jin’s demeanor only serves to make his earlier restraint and emotion even more apparent. This season is as much Hoo-min and Baek-jin’s story as it is Shi-eun’s, which is why I love that Shi-eun and Hoo-min’s strategic tag-teaming culminates in the latter delivering the final blow to Baek-jin; Hoo-min has to be the one to mark the full stop on the chapter of their friendship. “Baek-jin-ah,” Hoo-min says, to his fallen friend. “I’m sorry. But you ought to be sorry towards me too.”
That shot of a tear slipping from Baek-jin’s eye as Hoo-min towers over him in the wake of their fight brings to mind the same image from Season 1’s finale, with Bum-seok and Shi-eun in their exact positions. The fight is as much a testament to the depth of what their bond used to be, as it is a mark of finality that there’s no going back to what they once were.
It’s what makes Bum-seok’s scene, as an apparition of guilt in Shi-eun’s mind, so poignant. Shi-eun’s self-reproach extends beyond Soo-ho, since he blames himself for not being able to prevent Bum-seok’s spiral as well. Bum-seok embodies Shi-eun’s fear of history repeating itself — in the way he points out that Shi-eun will only get hurt again, his voice somewhere between mockery and concern — as well as Shi-eun’s guilt over what feels like leaving his friends behind, punctuated by Bum-seok asking if Shi-eun’s new friends are more important to him than he is. Ultimately, Shi-eun has to make the decision to walk away — even as Bum-seok keeps holding on to Shi-eun’s jacket sleeve, reluctant to let go until his arm finally slumps in defeat — just as Hoo-min has to be the one to cut ties with Baek-jin once and for all.
That’s why I lament the brevity of Baek-jin’s backstory, because he’s set up to be a sympathetic antagonist but his motivations are never fully explained. I really would’ve liked an extra episode or two to delve into Hoo-min and Baek-jin’s past, especially since it’s hinted that Baek-jin’s background isn’t as rosy as Hoo-min assumed. After all, Baek-jin has been donating his exorbitant profits to underprivileged children all this while. My interpretation is that, after little Hoo-min innocently mistook the orphanage Baek-jin grew up in as a rich family’s estate, Baek-jin grew fixated on keeping up appearances and amassing power so that he could stand with his savior Hoo-min on equal footing. No longer the battered victim from before, Baek-jin simply wants to fight by Hoo-min’s side — but Hoo-min doesn’t want to fight at all.
Plagued by the same guilt that haunts Shi-eun, Hoo-min blames himself for the knee injury that Hyun-tak suffered at Sung-je’s hands, which effectively ended Hyun-tak’s taekwondo athlete career. Both Hoo-min and Shi-eun vowed never to throw a punch again, but that’s what makes their resolve to spearhead the final face-off all the more meaningful. This time, they’re fighting with a purpose; not to punish, but to protect. For Hoo-min, it’s his principles. For Shi-eun, it’s his peace. And for all of them, it’s the friendships they treasure. Baek-jin no longer has any of that, and that’s what makes his last scene so heartbreakingly forlorn as he lies defeated and alone in the pouring rain, the reality of all that he’s lost finally sinking in.
Now that the Union fiasco is over, it’s Shi-eun’s turn to wait for his friends by the school gate. Walking to class together with the weight lifted off their shoulders at long last, they pass by a poster of Hyo-man, who’s turned over a new leaf and is currently running for student council president, LOL. As for Baek-jin, he’s seemingly vanished into thin air; no one’s heard from him since the showdown. But there’s good news in store for Shi-eun — Soo-ho regains consciousness at long last, and Shi-eun introduces the Eunjang trio as his friends. Aww, Soo-ho looks so proud of his old pal, and the rare smile that spreads across Shi-eun’s face is such a welcome sight.
Our story isn’t over just yet, though, because the show delivers a final blow in its post-credits scene (major spoilers ahead). Sung-je saunters back into Baek-jin’s abandoned bowling alley, where he finds Boss Choi, who offers him a lucrative position working under him at Cheongang. In true Sung-je fashion, he brushes it off because “it’s no fun,” though he does linger long enough to wonder if Boss Choi has any idea where Baek-jin disappeared to. “I’m plenty curious myself,” answers Boss Choi cryptically. Cut to a condolence wreath sent by Cheongang, alongside our somber boys and a sobbing Hoo-min. It’s Baek-jin’s funeral.
And I’m crying, because that ending absolutely gutted me in the most devastating way. I don’t think Baek-jin could have ever recovered from the hurt of Hoo-min walking away from him yet again, or the guilt of knowing he’d been the one to drive Hoo-min away. And yet there was always that sliver of hope, the slightest chance at redemption, because Baek-jin had never been too far gone. Perhaps, with the Union dissolved and his empire fallen, he could have repented and begun making amends. Alas, Baek-jin’s trajectory was abruptly truncated, in a doomed outcome he brought upon himself. It’s an end that’s all too fitting, and all too tragic.
It’s bound to cut deep for Hoo-min, who only just managed to come to terms with the guilt of introducing Baek-jin and Hyun-tak to the realm of fighting. If he hadn’t taught Baek-jin how to defend himself — if he hadn’t dealt that final decisive blow — if he had extended a hand to the fallen Baek-jin instead of leaving him behind? Hoo-min will have to grapple with countless “what-ifs,” and I don’t know whether a repeat of his guilt-ridden arc is entirely welcome, though maybe it’ll be an opportunity for him to heal in a healthier way this time around.
I can’t predict what direction the story will take from here (assuming there’s a third season in the works), but if Sung-je does take up the mantle of the next antagonist, I have faith that our squad will pull through. After all, it’s Soo-ho who taught Shi-eun how good it feels to have friends, and to laugh freely. Now that Shi-eun’s resolved to follow in Soo-ho’s footsteps, with a newly-forged support system around him, surely he’ll continue to inspire others to take the first step towards positive change. (And maybe Bum-seok can return from his studies abroad for a chance at reconciliation? Hey, let me have my pipe dreams!)
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