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About:
Warning:
There will be spoilers for the manhwa series Blind Play.
Content Warning: There may be references to violence, murder, blood, gore, death, torture, confinement, faking disability, disability, police, Stockholm syndrome, child abuse, child neglect, sex work, prejudice, BDSM (including forced and deadly), orphans, ableism, cheating, mental illness, theft, exploitation, manipulation, power imbalance, social gap, alcoholism, dubcon, nonconsenting recording, emolation, mentions of religion, obsession, blackmail, god complex, dead animals, drowning, mentions of divorce, abuse of animal corpses, abuse, slut-shaming, breakups, attempted murder-for-hire, child abandonment, poisoning, pseudo-incest (between men who consider themselves brothers, not the main couple), stalking, self-deprecation, self-hatred, kidnapping, corruption, attempted rape, hunting, animal abuse, implied pedophilia, classism, gun violence, mentions of hit-and-run, homomisia, bullying, suicide, excessive drinking, car accidents, and self-harm, as they do appear in the manhwa.
Synopsis:
Ah-in wants one thing: love. Coming from an abusive home, eventually orphaned due to his abusive father’s death, and then experiencing intense prejudice due to being an orphan, true love is something Ah-in has never experienced and desperately wants. He does have a boyfriend, but even in this relationship, Ah-in knows the love is one-sided. His boyfriend, a college student, frequently exchanges money with Ah-in for sex and affection. Ah-in is fully aware of this arrangement, yet he still wants love from him. So, he continues to pay his boyfriend, hoping one day that this fake love will become something real.
Unfortunately, his boyfriend’s tastes are pretty rich, and Ah-in’s only means of affording his expensive expectations is selling his body. In Korea, the only way to become a licensed massage therapist is to be visually disabled. So, Ah-in pretends to be blind and picks up customers under the guise of giving them a massage, only to have sex with them. He makes good money doing so and gets some nice items he gives his boyfriend as gifts after stealing them from his clients. Most of his customers are in upper society, so he doesn’t worry much about his safety.
But then he gets picked up by prolific author Seo Ilmo. Ah-in isn’t worried at first, but then the author begins to test him, holding out his hand, trying to point him around places, offering things to him without a word, as if he knows Ah-in isn’t actually blind. It’s uncomfortable but not the worst thing in the world, and Ah-in does his best to keep up the charade. But Ah-in is really put to the test when he enters Ilmo’s apartment, only to find a rotting corpse on the couch. It’s the ultimate game of cat and mouse as Ilmo tries to scare Ah-in into revealing his disability is fake so he can kill him. At the same time, Ah-in maintains the ruse, determined to survive each and every encounter while trying to expose Ilmo for the murderer he is.
It’s a deadly game of lust and blood. Who will win?
Review:
The art style in this is very sketchy and inconsistent, but it has an intensity that is perfect for the content. The subtlety in Ilmo’s reactions and his unsettling smile really highlights just how cruel and menacing he is as a character. Similarly, the reactions of his victims, including Ah-in, are super expressive and intense. When it’s done well, this art style is very emotional, stunning, and horrifying. But there are some scenes where it is off-kilter in one way or another. If you’re looking for perfection, this isn’t it, but I still think it’s very lovely and expressive in so many scenes.
This begins with a bang (or a stab). From the get-go, we get exactly what this story is about, with an intense scene of Ilmo murdering someone. As a horror fan, I love gratuitous and loud depictions of violence like this, and it really shows how unrelenting, unrestrained, and, yet, how calculating he is. We go from seeing him brutally murdering someone to seeing him quietly signing books and encouraging fans. This dichotomy shows just how clever and cruel Ilmo is. Similarly, the introduction to our main character, Ah-in, though not quite as loud, is just as insightful into his motivations and the life he’s lived. He’s willing to steal and lie to get what he wants, even if it means getting only the bare modicum of happiness. Immediately, we have our power dynamic: a man who has it all and takes even more with a man who has nothing but will do anything to survive. I love this dynamic so much.
But the introductions are only a taste of the amazing story this begins to craft. Neither Ah-in nor Ilmo are good people. Ilmo is a beloved mystery author on the surface and a serial killer in the shadows. Ah-in, on the other hand, has experienced prejudice for being an orphan, something he never had a choice in. Ah-in was forced into the underworld, much like he was forced into an orphanage. Though Ah-in is still wrong for faking a disability, it’s clear between the two who we are supposed to be cheering for. Ilmo is much more villainous, but he recognizes the darkness in Ah-in, which is why Ah-in survives being with Ilmo. There is a cat-and-mouse game between the fake blind man and the murderer, who knows he’s faking but wants to shake him out of the illusion rather than call him out or punish him for it. This setup does an amazing job of building tension, which made me fall in love with this title.
I also love the reasoning behind Ah-in returning again and again to Ilmo. While it may seem he is forced to, a part of him openly chooses Ilmo. For one, he doesn’t feel he deserves to be with Myeong-jun, as Myeong-jun has always been “pure,” unlike him. But Ilmo is dirty and damaged like he is, and unlike the rest of the world that constantly judges him for things he’s had to do to survive and for things he had no control over, like being an orphan, Ilmo refers to him as sacred. As much as Ah-in might despise Ilmo for what he does, there is a level of attraction to him. Ah-in is attracted to Ilmo’s view of him. Ilmo sees Ah-in at his lowest but still calls him sacred, and Ilmo is already tarnished, so Ah-in doesn’t have to worry about ruining him. Plus, Ah-in has always been the giver in his relationships, sacrificing everything while getting scraps in return, but when everything is against Ilmo, Ilmo gives up everything to see and protect Ah-in. Every love interest tells Ah-in to come to them, but Ilmo always comes to Ah-in. There’s a certain level of freedom, acceptance, and reciprocation Ah-in has with Ilmo that he can’t find anywhere else, which becomes some amalgamation of love. It’s very powerful.
And then we get to the ending. Ah-in ends up blind, Ilmo is suspected of being dead, and the best friend is mute. But Ilmo returns, taking Ah-in under the guise that he is Myeong-jun, and it ends. This would’ve been a fine ending on its own. It’s dark, gritty, and cyclical, with Ilmo carting off a blind Ah-in, just like their first meeting. When compared to the beginning, which starts out so explosive and dramatic, this is much more subtle and romantic but with a hint of foreboding. I really enjoyed it.
But then it keeps going, and we get insight into Ilmo’s past, a bit of hope mixed with more tragedy for Myeong-jun, and revelations on how Ah-in and Ilmo have lived since the end of the main story. There is a point in the main story where it is mentioned that Ah-in and Myeong-jun have the same blood type – a rare type at that. This didn’t seem like foreshadowing when it was revealed, but later on, during the side stories, Ah-in gets an eye transplant, and it’s mentioned that he gets Myeong-jun’s eyes after his death. This is such a sad end for someone so innocent who has finally started moving on from the terror of Seo Ilmo. But maybe even more painful is the subtle reveal of just how far Ilmo went to pretend to be Myeong-jun when he first took Ah-in. He cut off his own fingers to keep up the lie. I wish we could’ve gotten some insight into how that reveal happened, as I think it would be telling to see how Ah-in felt knowing Ilmo went to such lengths, but what we get about them is still interesting, and I really enjoyed it in the end. The final scene, in particular, as grotesque as it is, is a poetic moment. One that I think really encompasses just how passionate and cruel love can be.
Results:
I have to be real: I adore this. It’s full of mind games, lust, blood, gore, torture, and death, and I loved every second of it. It’s very cyclical, with ever-evolving power dynamics and morally irredeemable characters that you still root for (or at least, I do). It keeps on theme throughout, so even a glimmer of hope is snuffed out in the most torturous and painful ways. I certainly can’t recommend this to everyone, and I’m sure many people despise it for all of its toxicity and violence, but I love it.
Have you read Blind Play? If so, what do you think? Do you agree with my assessment? Do you not? Let me know, and comment below!