Episode 12 (Final) » Dramabeans MGG

The Kidnapping Day: Episode 12 (Final)

by solstices

It’s rare for a drama to start strong and end well, but The Kidnapping Day manages to do just that and more. Our motley crew of lovable protagonists put their heads together to outwit their shrewdest adversary yet, all while raising some very pertinent questions about intelligence, ethics, and love.

 
EPISODE 12

It’s time to say goodbye to this little gem of a drama, which maintains its humor and heart right up to the high note it ends off on. Our delightful duo may be separated for now, but Ro-hee doesn’t hesitate to put her thinking cap on. (Or perhaps it’s always on?) Joining the cop discussion table, Ro-hee suggests turning the tide of public opinion with a juicier headline.

With only circumstantial evidence that Hye-eun was the culprit of the Choi murders, they’ll have to back her into a corner if they don’t want her slipping away yet again. A press conference is held, announcing the discovery of a second female suspect, and the increased scrutiny frays Hye-eun’s nerves.

Under the cover of a convenient cop disguise, Hye-eun steals Professor Choi’s laptop and delivers it right into Jaden’s hands. With the sought-after research documents in his possession at long last, Jaden is about to fly back to Singapore when Sang-yoon stops him in his tracks. A little girl has reported him for theft — gee, I wonder who that could be — and the police confiscate the stolen laptop and necklace.

At the station, Jaden receives a visit from his lawyer — ohmygod it’s Kang Haneul in an Insider reunion! Aaaaaa! Wearing an unsettling grin, he introduces himself as RICHARD CHOI from HQ. I could watch these two for ages, but unfortunately their meeting is cut short when Jaden begins choking up from the drink Richard offered him. Looks like HQ decided it’s time to replace Jaden.

Leaning in close, Richard reveals a little secret — his hyung died on the cold hard floor of a swimming pool. Ohmygod, he’s Ho-young’s brother?! Revenge is best served cold, and Richard leaves Jaden to slowly succumb to his poison, collapsing to the floor of the interrogation room and futilely gasping for air.

With her passport forgers dead and the police closing in, Hye-eun is at her wits’ end. Predicting her predicament, Ro-hee calls Hye-eun with an invitation for tea at her grandparents’ villa, which has been outfitted with CCTV cameras and wiretaps courtesy of the police. The game of wits is on, and while the cocky Hye-eun still thinks she can twist the situation to her advantage by “proving” her innocence, Ro-hee has already found the truth within her recovered memories.

Sick of Hye-eun’s blackmail and determined to keep his experiments a secret, Professor Choi had murdered his wife and attempted to frame Hye-eun for the crime. Instead, she’d accidentally stabbed him in self-defense, after which Cheol-won had arrived to tamper with the crime scene and take the blame.

Deliberately pushing Hye-eun’s buttons, Ro-hee thanks her for abandoning Myung-joon and Hee-ae, thus giving her a new family. After all, Hee-ae would be better off without a murderous mom. Hye-eun snaps, screaming that both Myung-joon and Hee-ae are hers — Ro-hee doesn’t have the right to snatch anything more from her. In fact, Ro-hee should thank Hye-eun, since she got rid of her mad scientist father.

Ro-hee finally betrays a tiny smirk, and Hye-eun realizes she’s admitted to her crime. The police rush in, but the yard is a distance away and Hye-eun has come prepared. Slicing her palm with a scalpel, Hye-eun takes Ro-hee hostage, wailing that she’s always wanted to inflict the same pain onto someone from the family that made her suffer.

Then Myung-joon approaches, palpably devastated by the true nature of the wife he loved with utmost loyalty. His presence stuns Hye-eun, and we see her revert to her younger self — the child who hadn’t been able to grow up, trapped in her own trauma. She cries that no one has ever loved her, but Myung-joon says otherwise. That day, at the church, he’d prayed for his family to be healthy and happy. Both Hee-ae, and Hye-eun. But now, Ro-hee is part of his family too, and he can’t bear to see her get hurt. Finally letting herself break down, Hye-eun drops the scalpel, sobbing as Myung-joon pulls her into his arms.

The court convenes for Myung-joon’s trial, where Ro-hee has requested to give a witness statement. Forgoing her prepared script, Ro-hee declares that she’s never once been afraid of Myung-joon. Rather, he’s always obeyed her orders, and taken good care of her like no one ever had before. He’s never once deceived her, intimidated her, or limited her freedom. If those actions constitute kidnapping, then she’s been kidnapped from birth — on the contrary, Myung-joon is the one who liberated her.

When they return home, Taek-kyun presents Ro-hee with her back scratcher. Myung-joon had asked to give it to her, and on it, he’s written “To my filial daughter, Ro-hee.” The words — and the fond memories of their time together — bring Ro-hee to tears, and I’m reaching for my tissues again.

Some time later, Ro-hee sits in on Taek-kyun’s prison visitation, and ha, Myung-joon barely has one foot in the room and they’re already bickering. When Ro-hee informs Myung-joon of her plan to send Hee-ae to an international school, Myung-joon retorts that Ro-hee ought to attend school too. It’s time for her to learn her worst subject — social skills. Haha, even Taek-kyun can’t help but agree, and Ro-hee’s aghast look of betrayal is absolutely adorable.

After a bout of good-natured ribbing, Myung-joon grumbles that he’ll just head for soccer practice instead, until Ro-hee calls out to him. Sincerely, she apologizes, then thanks him. Moved, Myung-joon reaches out to pat her head — then decides to pinch her cheek instead. Needless to say, it earns him a back scratcher whack on the head, just like old times. Aww, I love them.

Ro-hee does end up going to school after all — Taek-kyun drops her off with Hee-ae, who cajoles Ro-hee into wearing a cute hairpin just like her dad once did. In class, Ro-hee starts off on the wrong foot, introducing herself like she’s on Forbes’ Youngest Billionaires list. Unsurprisingly, the class atmosphere grows awkward, and Ro-hee remembers Myung-joon’s earnest wish for her to go to school and learn.

With a sheepish smile and a newfound dose of humility, she reintroduces herself as just the twelve-year-old Choi Ro-hee — since she doesn’t have the best social skills, she hopes for her classmates’ help. They welcome her with enthusiastic cheers, and Ro-hee’s smile grows brighter.

Aww, Ro-hee. It feels like we’ve watched her grow up, from an impudent and sheltered genius to a mature and empathetic child. Without a doubt, the emotional center of the show was the found family dynamic between Ro-hee and Myung-joon, as well as all the other exasperated but fond adults she picked up along the way. I do wish the show had thrown us a bone with a flash-forward to Myung-joon, Ro-hee, and Hee-ae living together happily ever after, but I’m satisfied knowing that the girls are in good hands with Taek-kyun for now.

Equal parts reprehensible and sympathetic, Hye-eun was an enthrallingly complex antagonist who toed the line between victim and perpetrator. She may have been erratic and enigmatic, but underneath her duplicitous demeanor was a traumatized young child yearning for affirmation and love. It’s ironically hypocritical of her to shirk all responsibility and blame Myung-joon for escaping the suffering she had to endure, given that it was her choice to manipulate her way into taking his place. Yet her attempt to elicit empathy from Ro-hee as a fellow research subject also speaks volumes about her bone-deep desire for understanding and connection.

Hye-eun’s story is a tragic tale about the pitfalls of the pursuit of intellectual perfection, and the drama expands upon this idea in its post-credits scene. Earlier, at the courtroom, Ro-hee had given Eun-seon a note with several international addresses, taken from her father’s documents. The Singaporean address leads Eun-seon to an international elementary school, where a little girl is solving complex math equations on the board. The girl turns around, and she looks just like Ro-hee.

It’s a shocking scene that leaves much to our speculation. Was Professor Choi’s research not about helping people develop intelligence, like Eun-seon mistakenly thought, but about creating genius clones? Or did he perform separate experiments on a pair of twins to test whether the one without brain-enhancing drugs would still display the same aptitude? Either way, it emphasizes the futility of the Genius Child Project, and the horror that is trying to mold a child to one’s wishes.

With thought-provoking ethical themes, a consistently engaging storyline, and phenomenal acting all around, The Kidnapping Day easily stole my heart. Just like the simple sincerity of Myung-joon’s flour pancakes, the show gave its characters room to be genuine, be kind, and be human — and that’s what makes it so special. ♡

 
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