Content Notice: This post discusses mental health themes and psychological patterns in fictional characters. Not intended as diagnostic material.
Why am I still obsessing over Si-eun's test paper circles? What is it about this character that won't let me go after three years?
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You're reading Off Script — cultural notes about Korean dramas that dig deeper than subtitles. Today we're exploring why one character's psychological landscape has kept an entire fandom captivated, and what that reveals about the stories we desperately need to hear.
Let's dive in 🤿
Table of Contents
The Mathematics of Perfect Circles
Three years later, international fans are still debating those circles on Si-eun's test papers.
Were they obsessive-compulsive rituals, or simply the meticulous habits of a perfectionist who'd learned that control might equal survival?
Si-eun doesn't just fill in those circles.
He crafts them. Each one is drawn with the precision of someone performing a ritual that holds his world together.
When Young-bin's crew destroys his test paper, watch Si-eun's face. It's not just anger—it's the expression of someone whose entire support system has just collapsed. Those circles weren't academic tools; they were psychological anchors.
All images © Netflix. Used minimally for educational purposes only
The desperate mathematics of a boy who'd calculated that perfection might be the price of safety.
When Caring Becomes Currency
Director Yoo crafted something remarkable in Si-eun's character development.
That obsessive focus he'd developed for academic perfection—the same neural pathways that created those flawless circles—shifted wholesale onto Su-ho when friendship entered his world like a windbreaker-clad hurricane.
His willingness to take beatings, to position his body as a shield for Su-ho's safety, wasn't just loyalty.
It was the frantic behavior of someone who'd barely experienced stable attachment and sensed, with terrible clarity, that losing this precious person would trigger psychological collapse far more devastating than any physical pain he could endure.
It's the same mindset that created those perfect test circles, just redirected toward a human target.
The Patterns We All Recognize
Here's where the conversation gets more layered, and where international fans have contributed some of the most insightful observations.
Many viewers have noted Si-eun's patterns:
the social isolation that goes beyond typical introversion
the sensory sensitivity evident in those noise-canceling headphones
the way he processes emotional overload through academic hyperfocus
his visible distress when routines get disrupted unexpectedly
All images © Netflix. Used minimally for educational purposes only
The show never pathologizes him, never reduces him to a diagnostic label.
Instead, it presents a boy whose mind works differently in a world that demands neurotypical conformity, and does so with remarkable subtlety.
Perhaps we keep returning to Si-eun's story because it crystallizes something many of us recognize but rarely have the language to articulate.
The exhausting daily performance of appearing "normal" when your mind operates on different frequencies. The way trauma can masquerade as high achievement and perfectionism. The terror that love, once discovered, might evaporate without warning, leaving you more isolated than before.
One of our community members, Asuka, captured this psychological complexity beautifully in her fan exploration of Si-eun's character:
"I think what Si-eun can't shake-off is the feeling that an ordinary day can turn into a living nightmare with just a phone call.
This sort of trauma lasts for years and years, especially for the sort that aren't used to talking things out."
Continue reading: 🔗 Si-eun's psychological journey through creative storytelling
Why Korean Circles Matter
In Korean academic culture, those perfect circles carry particular significance that international viewers might miss.