Episodes 7-8 » Dramabeans Korean drama recaps

Perfect Crown: Episodes 7-8

by DaebakGrits

It’s time for our leading lady to transition from CEO to princess regent, but the royal nuptials are not without their share of danger and intrigue that trigger our prince’s protective instincts and reveal his innermost feelings.

Episodes 7-8

Just in case the heat from last week’s steamy makeout session didn’t keep you properly warm and flushed for the last seven days, our story picks up with a replay of every look, caress, and kiss that leaves both Hee-joo and Yi Ahn flushed and flustered when they returned to his private residence. Although they both try to play it cool in front of Yi Ahn’s staff, their awkwardness and tousled hair are a sure sign that their relationship has crossed a line that there’s no coming back from.

They retreat to their separate rooms, but neither can sleep, as a mental play-by-play of their kiss runs vividly through their minds. Yi Ahn is undeniably giddy and, eager to discuss what happened on Hee-joo’s yacht, sneaks out of his room to either discuss the emotional ramifications of the kiss — or, perhaps, go for round two. Hee-joo, however, is confused by her reaction to Yi Ahn’s kiss, so when Yi Ahn comes a knocking, she freezes — caught between her desire to keep things professional and the budding feelings she’s not willing to acknowledge as anything more than lust. Assuming her silence means she is asleep, Yi Ahn retreats.

The next morning, Hee-joo remains frazzled, and try as she might, she cannot avoid Yi Ahn, who is perceptive enough to know he’s got her discombobulated. Unfortunately, his confidence deflates when he later calls Hee-joo and overhears Jung-woo’s voice in the background. Little does Yi Ahn know, though, Hee-joo only met up with Jung-woo coincidentally after seeking an exorcism — because the strange feelings overpowering her must be a sign she’s possessed (LOL) — at Jung-woo’s church.

Jung-woo, wanting to extend his time with Hee-joo, offers to give her a ride to work, and during the drive, she catches him smiling. While the audience can assume he’s enjoying the alone time with his crush, Hee-joo sees his grin and is reminded of Yi Ahn and the childlike joy he experiences while driving. Jung-woo senses her budding affection for her future husband and is displeased — because nothing kills the mood quite like hearing the object of your affection saying you remind her of your competition. He channels his jealousy into a cautionary warning for her to not lose her heart — and sight of her main objective — to Yi Ahn.

As much as Hee-joo would like to avoid Yi Ahn, Yi Ahn and Yi Yoon have picked an auspicious date, and it’s a pretty hard feat to avoid her future husband when she’s PPL necklace-deep in royal wedding planning with him. There are garment fittings to be had, royal etiquette lessons to suffer through, and — much to her displeasure — a formal meeting with her family to arrange. As if the latter wasn’t enough to stress her out, she and Yi Ahn undergo a medical examination, where the physician and Court Lady Choi talk openly about their pending wedding night, causing Hee-joo’s pulse to race.

Sensing Hee-joo is feeling overwhelmed by all the future-heir talk and having his own personal reasons for wanting to finally speak with her alone, Yi Ahn dismisses the staff so they can discuss what happened on her yacht. Hee-joo fights the distraction of Yi Ahn’s “doe eyes” and tries to play the role of a worldly woman and dismisses the whole affair as a momentary bout of lust, claiming she’d have kissed anyone under such romantic circumstances. Her cavalier take on the previous night’s events, however, does not sit well with Yi Ahn, and he confesses that the kiss was, for him, more than a fleeting moment of passion. “I did it because it was you,” he insists, and leaves Hee-joo at a loss for words.

The conversation has Yi Ahn feeling frustrated, and word of his possible argument with Hee-joo reaches Yi-rang. It doesn’t escape Yi Ahn’s notice that she seems rather pleased to hear he fought with Hee-joo, but he quickly shuts down her attempt to sow further discord. He counters her suggestion that their union was bound to fail because they came from different worlds with a pointed reminder that she and KING YI HWAN (Sung Joon), despite their similar status, had a less than harmonious marriage — a fact supported with flashbacks showing how the former king often shirked his duties and became a major point of contention between them.

Clearly, long before Yi Hwan drew up a royal edict to abdicate the throne and appoint Yi Ahn as his successor, there were signs that he had no desire to be king, and Yi Ahn was willing to step in to help Yi-rang save face when Yi Hwan ran away from his responsibilities. Back then, Yi Ahn seemed to genuinely care for his sister-in-law, but his sympathy and brotherly affection for her must have soured the moment he found the charred remains of Yi Hwan edict, which he keeps securely stored in a safe with his new marriage contract. (Finally, a character who knows where to properly hide his sensitive documents!)

The day comes for Yi Ahn to formally meet Hee-joo’s family, and aware of how much she dreads the occasion, he is at his charming best — not that he has to try very hard. Tae-joo is tripping over himself with excitement to be Yi Ahn’s brother-in-law (and the soon-to-be only heir to Castle Group), and while Da-young is more composed, she’s undeniably thrilled.

Hyeon-guk, however, is another story: stern, irritable, and openly critical of the match. He remarks that he had hoped his daughter would marry someone “a bit beneath her” and voices concern over the palace’s reputation for “troubles and tragedies.” Unmoved by his paternal posturing, Hee-joo pointedly reminds him that he was nowhere to be found after her recent car accident. She leaves the dinner table, and Yi Ahn follows her retreat to her childhood bedroom — its walls lined with awards that quietly testify to years spent chasing her father’s approval.

Yi Ahn suggests that Hyeon-guk’s concern might be sincere — and it does appear that the writers are setting us up for a potential redemption arc — but Hee-joo dismisses his act as calculated. Rather than argue, Yi Ahn shifts his approach, offering comfort instead. Where her father withholds affection, Yi Ahn promises the opposite, assuring her that he is genuine and that he’ll give her whatever she desires. His promise is laced with a genuine affection that she can’t ignore, and given the way his eyes sparkle — and unnerve her — she has to ask: “Do you have feelings for me?”

Yi Ahn doesn’t try to hide what he feels. If anything, he’s disarmingly candid, admitting that while other women have caught his attention before, she is the first to break through his self-control. He makes it clear she has nothing to fear — he won’t trap her in a marriage she doesn’t want. What he desires instead is for her to accept his money, his name, and his heart of her own free will. Hee-joo, who isn’t ready to accept his feelings for her just yet, deflects with humor, pointing out that she’s always had more money than him.

Personally, I appreciated Yi Ahn’s frankness. He’s spent his entire life bound by rigid expectations, which makes his love all the more striking — it’s defined by restraint, but also by a quiet defiance of the rules he was raised to follow. And because of that, it feels fitting that he refuses to impose those same constraints on the woman he loves, unless it’s a choice she willingly makes. Thankfully, even though Hee-joo isn’t giving him a verbal confirmation that she reciprocates his interest, the signs are there, and Yi Ahn is able to read them and be honest with his intentions.

Doubt only creeps in when Jung-woo is involved, which is why Yi Ahn pays the prime minister an unscheduled visit, and he doesn’t beat around the bush. “I like Hee-joo,” he proclaims and pointedly reminds Jung-woo that he should mind his conduct around his future wife. Jung-woo, still clinging to the belief that he can make his move in three years after they’re divorced, thinks he has a mic drop moment when he reminds Yi Ahn that Hee-joo isn’t marrying him for love, but — as we later learn from the epilogue — it’s actually Yi Ahn who has the last word. He wisely points out that everything Hee-joo has to gain from marrying him, she could have had if she married Jung-woo, so perhaps there’s something Yi Ahn has that Jung-woo’s lacking. (*finger snaps*)

Do I feel some sympathy for Jung-woo? At times, yes, especially when the grandeur of Yi Ahn and Hee-joo’s wedding procession cuts to him, quietly watching the festivities unfold on a live broadcast, looking visibly subdued and left behind. But that momentary pity fades when I remember he’s harbored feelings for Hee-joo since high school. He’s had ample amount of time to shoot his shot and either pursue a relationship or move on after rejection. Instead, his prolonged inaction becomes the primary source of his own unhappiness, which makes it all the more frustrating that he continues to position himself emotionally between Hee-joo and Yi Ahn while still outwardly supporting their marriage.

Speaking of Yi Ahn and Hee-joo’s marriage, it’s a grand formal affair — the equivalent to a national holiday or BTS comeback concert. Unfortunately, when our fairy tale wedding procession arrives at Gyeongbokgung Palace, the colorful and joyous occasion turns into a scene from Snow White, as the Hee-joo passes out from suspected poisoning. Yi Ahn, despite his palpable concern, jumps into action and, not trusting the palace physicians, dares anyone to “lay a hand upon [his] wife or face [his] wrath.” (Sidenote: this line had no business being that sexy. *fans self*)

Yi Ahn personally carries Hee-joo to a waiting car and accompanies her to the hospital, where doctors confirm Hee-joo has digoxin toxicity. Although she’s safe and out of immediate danger, the realization that Hee-joo was poisoned has everyone reeling, and a genuinely concerned Hyeon-guk smacks Yi Ahn and demands retribution. Yi Ahn tells the royal guard to stand down and confidently tells his father-in-law that he has zero intuition of “letting this slide.”

A man of his word, Yi Ahn meets with Jung-woo, whose own fear and anger get the better of him. He scolds Yi Ahn for failing to keep Hee-joo safe, and once again, he silently accepts the abuse because he believes he deserves it. He agrees with Jung-woo. He didn’t protect Hee-joo from the evils lurking in the palace — which is why he wants Jung-woo, as the prime minister, to conduct a formal investigation. It’s a request that stuns Jung-woo because it’s highly unprecedented; the Royal Protection Branch is usually in charge of internal investigations.

As per usual, Yi-rang is loath to deviate from tradition and argues that bringing in an external investigative team would sully the “dignity of the Crown,” but Jung-woo makes a compelling argument in favor of using a less biased perspectives in order to find the culprit and ensure the royal family’s safety. Not to mention, Grand Prince Yi Ahn, the acting regent, authorized it. Yi-rang is absolutely incensed that Yi Ahn pulled rank over the king, but one also has to wonder: is she really clinging to tradition, or does she have something to hide? After all, it’s looking more and more like she may have had something to do with her husband’s death…

While Jung-woo holds a press conference announcing the government’s investigation into possible “external factors” behind Hee-joo’s medical emergency, Hee-joo regains consciousness in the hospital. Court Lady Choi delivers the news to Yi Ahn, who is visiting his parents’ memorial tablets and quietly wondering whether recent events might be his father’s divine punishment for coveting too much. The moment he hears that Hee-joo is awake, however, he runs — abandoning decorum and breaking every rule in his rush to reach her.

Y’all, the way he enters her hospital room and immediately clings to her, tears streaming down his face — I can’t. There’s just something deeply affecting about his raw mixture of fear and relief, especially in conjunction with his earlier confession that Hee-joo is someone who made his self-restraint crumble. He is utterly devoted to her, and Hee-joo, who has never been on the receiving end of such unguarded, vulnerable affection, is taken aback and unsure how to respond. Eventually, she raises a hand to gently pat his back and awkwardly provide comfort — but, really, all he needed was to hold her and assure himself she was alive.

Unfortunately, the tender moment ends when Jung-woo arrives with the police. It’s Yi Ahn’s turn to be questioned — and though no one watching this drama seriously doubts his innocence, the process moves forward all the same. He asked for a proper investigation, and that means ruling out even him as a possible suspect.

After he’s taken away, Jung-woo informs Hee-joo that she was poisoned with digoxin, prompting a chilling realization: Yi Ahn was the intended target. During the wedding ceremony, when she accidentally bumped the table, she unknowingly switched her ceremonial goblet with his. Alarmed for his safety, Hee-joo tries to leave the hospital, but Jung-woo, Hyeon, and the royal guard stop her. Yi Ahn had already issued orders that her protection take absolute priority — a directive he put in place even after realizing he himself had been the target.

Now, I’m no medical expert, so I’m only going off what the drama presents — but apparently, the dose of digoxin wasn’t fatal for Hee-joo because she doesn’t regularly take it. Yi Ahn, however, does, and the implication is that the same dose would have been lethal for him. I’ll admit, the logic is a bit murky, so I’m choosing to focus on one key detail: Yi Ahn has been taking medication for an arrhythmia. Which raises an entirely different concern: what does this mean for his long-term health?

As eager as Yi Ahn is to rush back to Hee-joo’s side, he takes Jung-woo’s advice and returns to the palace instead, knowing it will be the safest place for her once she’s discharged. Determined not to take any chances, he sets about turning their residence into a full-blown “fortress,” calling for additional attendants and tightening royal guard security. So consumed is he with playing the ever-vigilant (and very appealing) protective husband that he doesn’t see Hee-joo again until her discharge — by which point she’s deliberately styled herself to look pale and fragile for maximum dramatic effect.

Naturally, it’s all part of her strategy: present herself as a tragic heroine, win public sympathy, and tilt favor away from the queen mother. Yi-rang, meanwhile, tries to step in as the dutiful sister-in-law by offering to take over Hee-joo’s social duties during her recovery. Yi Ahn shuts that down immediately, fully aware that Hee-joo would never want to hand Yi-rang that kind of advantage.

Hee-joo, however, is far less pleased when she learns Yi Ahn knew all along that he was the true target of the assassination attempt, and worse, that he’s relieved she wasn’t the one in danger. How dare he put her life above his own and risk leaving her a widow? (*cue pillow attack*) She insists her frustration stems from the inconvenience of being unable to secure a divorce if he were to die, but the tears welling in her eyes tell a different story.

At this point, it’s impossible to deny: Hee-joo is developing a soft spot for her husband — emotionally and physically. She practically short-circuits when Yi Ahn strolls into their bedroom with his robe hanging open, his bare chest on tantalizing display. This time, she’s the flustered one, quickly insisting he take the sofa. Unfortunately for her, that’s not an option. Still shaken by how close he came to losing her, Yi Ahn needs the reassurance of her presence — through cuddles and the sound of her steady heartbeat — to convince himself she’s truly alive. (Oof! Another line that punched me right in the feels.)

Sadly, this royal couple doesn’t get much time to enjoy life after the wedding. The moment Hee-joo is cleared, their official duties pick right back up. Still new to royal life, she’s reassigned the more experienced Hyeon as her attendant. Meanwhile Hye-jung, who has finally noticed Hyeon’s adorkably sweet romantic appeal, moves over to Yi Ahn’s side. It quickly becomes clear she doesn’t have much to learn, and her quiet competence and attentiveness leave a strong impression on Yi Ahn, making it all the more understandable why Hee-joo laments losing such a reliable assistant.

Hee-joo and Hyeon, however, prove to be an entertaining pair. With their similar temperaments, they quickly agree that Yi Ahn’s outfit is far too dull for their upcoming appearance at the Royal Academy. Since it’s their first public event as a married couple, Hee-joo is of the opinion that she and Yi Ahn should wear coordinated looks, and just like that, the perceived slight against his wardrobe is forgotten. The obvious smile on his face is a clear indication that Yi Ahn finds himself unexpectedly charmed by the idea of wearing matching couple outfits with her.

The new royal couple arrives at their alma mater dressed in crisp white ensembles that mirror each other, drawing excited reactions from the students. Hee-joo kicks off the school’s awards ceremony with a speech that has the audience laughing and warmly engaged, but the atmosphere shifts in an instant when phones across the room begin buzzing. A scandal has broken out, and the details of her contract marriage with Yi Ahn have been leaked. (How?! Yi Ahn’s copy is locked in a safe! Surely, Hee-joo didn’t hide hers in the toilet…)

Reporters flood the auditorium, firing questions in rapid succession. Hee-joo, who is caught off guard and unaware of the situation, freezes, but then Yi Ahn appears from backstage and steps in front of her to shield her from the chaos. “Look at me,” he says, steady and sure. He may not have much experience leading, but when his woman is in danger, he sure knows how to step in, take her hand, guide her safely offstage.

Perfect Crown continues to play all my guilty pleasure tropes like the xylophone player in the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Does it have its faults? Yes (*looks at whoever decided every scene needs to include a zoomed in camera angle of Byeon Woo-seok’s eyes and poreless nose*). Do I care? No. This is exactly what I signed up for. However, if that whole bit about Yi Ahn taking medication turns into something more serious, I may have to flip tables. My heart — no pun intended — can’t take a potential health crisis on top of an assassination plot.

And speaking of our wannabe killer, I’m in this weird position of enjoying the added element of suspense — because it opens the door for a lot of juicy emotional moments between our OTP — but not really caring about the mystery behind it. The obvious culprits are Yi-rang and her father, and if the story plays out with either one or both of them being behind the assassination attempts, I’m not going to complain about the laziness. This story, in true fairy tale fashion, doesn’t need complex villains or motives, and I personally enjoy that the bad guy (or gal) is just kind of hanging out at the peripherals of this story, throwing in a little spice whenever it’s needed.