Our Unwritten Seoul- Episodes 3-4

Secrets, Setbacks, and Salted Redemption

Episode 3 of Our Unwritten Seoul kicks off with a close call: Ho-su clocks Mi-ji’s true identity—but she plays it cool and talks her way out of it. Barely. But the tension’s rising, and their tangled history is about to unravel.

Flashbacks take us to high school, where Mi-ji and Ho-su were thick as thieves until jealousy drove a wedge. Mi-ji once spotted him hugging Mi-rae the day of her big race. Distracted and heartbroken, she stumbled, shattered her ankle, and watched her future as an athlete vanish. In a reckless attempt to reclaim that dream, she ditched her cast early and wrecked her chances for good. Talk about a slow-burn heartbreak.

Meanwhile, Ho-su’s own career is cracking. He crosses the line to help a victim in one of his firm’s cases, and his idol-turned-boss, Lee Chung-ku, cuts him off cold. No more cases. No more meetings. Just silent disappointment.

Over at the restaurant battlefield, Mi-ji’s still on her mission to win over the salt-throwing grandma. She cleans the place, shows up uninvited (again), and even sneaks into her poetry class—only to get caught. Desperate, Mi-ji asks Ho-su for advice. Turns out, this tough old lady isn’t just anyone. She’s a celebrated poet who once funded scholarships for kids from single-parent homes—including Ho-su himself.

Down on the farm, Mi-rae’s having a quiet glow-up. She’s killing it with plant care and sapling selection, impressing Se-jin. After work, he offers her a ride and is stunned when she drives like a pro—despite not knowing how to ride a bike. There’s clearly more to Mi-rae than meets the eye.

Back in the city, Ho-su’s feeling sidelined and decides to crash a work team outing—except it’s actually a triple date. There, he bumps into Park Ji-yun, a former classmate, who ropes Mi-ji (still posing as Mi-rae) into joining. Turns out Ji-yun and the real Mi-rae got close after Mi-ji’s sports dreams collapsed.

Later, Ji-yun gives Mi-ji a lift to the restaurant, unaware she’s helping her sneak back in to return a key she “borrowed” during her last ambush. Mi-ji claims the old woman is her grandaunt. The lie holds—for now.

Back at the firm, Lee Chung-ku tries to reroute Ho-su toward a more humanitarian path and challenges his priorities. Stick with the job, or follow his values? Ho-su’s at a crossroads.

Mi-ji’s running out of time. Her boss pressures her to get the old woman to at least show up to a redevelopment meeting. Meanwhile, Ji-yun wants to feature the restaurant in a media project. When they both show up, Mi-ji’s lie is exposed—but the old woman, amused and surprisingly soft, plays along. Later, she tells Mi-ji she’ll attend the meeting just to decline the offer in person. It's technically a win, and Mi-ji is quietly relieved.

In a tender twist, Ho-su visits the old woman himself and thanks her for supporting his education. He’s the first to ever do so. Touched, she cooks him a warm meal—a rare, quiet act of grace.

Out in the fields, Se-jin finally apologizes to Mi-rae. The chair she moved had belonged to his grandfather. She didn't know, but her thoughtful efforts to clean and organize the space clearly got through to him.

And finally, the episode ends on a turning point: Ho-su tells Mi-ji (still thinking she’s Mi-rae) that he’s quit the law firm. He’s ready to do what’s right—and he wants to help her, for real.

First Loves, Fake Lives, and Falling Apart

Episode 4 of Our Unwritten Seoul throws us right into the fire—starting with Ho-su quitting his job and his former mentor, Lee Chung-ku, not taking it well. Think rage, threats, and promises to ruin Ho-su’s legal future. It’s not a resignation; it’s a declaration of war.

Meanwhile, Mi-ji stumbles upon Ho-su at Ro-sa’s home (yes, that salty poet-restaurant owner) and learns he’s unemployed. Back at her own soul-crushing office, Mi-ji’s not faring much better. Her director hands her a high-stakes meeting—clearly setting her up as the sacrificial lamb if it tanks.

Trying to keep her own head above water, Mi-ji swings by Ho-su’s place to check in. He’s spiraling—jobless, lost, and questioning everything. Mi-ji, ever the wildcard, suggests crocheting. Yes, crocheting. And weirdly enough, it clicks.

The next day, Ho-su stuns his mom with the truth: he’s unemployed. But there’s a silver lining—he’s now Ro-sa’s legal rep. When they bump into Mi-ji and Ro-sa at a shop, Ro-sa makes it official: if Mi-ji wants anything from her, she needs to go through Ho-su.

Then comes a punch to the ego—Mi-ji overhears Ji-yun casually saying she hadn’t planned to invite “Mi-rae” (a.k.a. Mi-ji in disguise) to the high school reunion. Ouch. Mi-ji, never one to sit quietly, insists on attending—with Ho-su as backup.

Elsewhere, Mi-rae is quietly unraveling. She decides to cut their grandmother’s hair—something Mi-ji used to do—while their mom is spiraling over unpaid bills and getting suspicious about Mi-rae’s behavior.

At the reunion, things get mean fast. Old classmates mock “Mi-rae” for failing the civil service exam and throw shade at Mi-ji’s janitor past. Mi-ji bites her tongue, until Ho-su steps in with a mic-drop moment of a defense. Afterward, he calls her out: why didn’t she stand up for herself?

Later that night, Mi-rae calls asking Mi-ji to come home and cut their grandmother’s hair, but the timing clashes with Mi-ji’s critical work meeting. When Mi-ji refuses, Mi-rae lashes out, telling her to cover the hospital bills herself.

The next morning, Mi-rae receives boxes of strawberries from Se-jin. Alone with her thoughts, she admits to herself how isolated she’s become—and how harshly she treats herself. In a rare, warm moment, she ends up making strawberry jam with Ho-su’s mom, who offers a quiet but powerful compliment: Mi-rae is kind, strong, and doing her best.

Just as the big meeting nears, things go sideways. Ro-sa goes completely off the grid. Mi-ji, panicked, races to her home and finds her collapsed. But instead of helping… she freezes. Anxiety paralyzes her.

Flashbacks reveal the weight Mi-ji’s been carrying. After her accident in high school, she shut down completely, refusing to leave her room for three years. Mi-rae took her place—literally. She chopped her hair, posed as Mi-ji, and even appeared in the graduation photo with Ho-su. The only thing that finally broke Mi-ji’s isolation? Their grandmother’s stroke.

Back in the present, Ho-su arrives just in time—helping both Mi-ji and Ro-sa. The restaurant owner is hospitalized, the meeting gets postponed, and for a second, everyone breathes.

Later, Mi-ji breaks down, blaming herself for their grandmother’s illness. Ho-su opens up: his hearing loss and his father’s death stem from the same accident. He knows pain. He knows guilt. And then, in one of the episode’s biggest moments, Ho-su confesses something that cuts through all the lies:

He’s always liked Mi-ji. She was his first love.

DramaZen's Opinion

Okay, episodes 3 and 4? Absolute emotional whiplash in the best way.

First off—Mi-ji is out here doing everything: dodging salt, surviving corporate sabotage, and trying to close a land deal with a poet who could body-check a bulldozer with her glare. And somehow, she still has time to crochet Ho-su back from the edge of a breakdown?? Iconic behavior.

Meanwhile, Mi-rae is quietly stealing my heart. Watching her thaw at the strawberry farm and making jam with Ho-su’s mom? Wholesome. Give her all the strawberries and a nap, please.

And Ho-su... HO-SU. Quitting his job for his morals, standing up for Mi-ji at that toxic reunion, and then casually dropping a first love confession like it’s no big deal?? Sir. You are killing me.

Also, the twist with Mi-rae taking Mi-ji’s place at graduation? Gut punch. The twin switch was already messy, but now we’re deep in "my identity is a trauma response" territory and I’m hooked.

This show keeps threading raw honesty into every awkward, funny, or painful moment—and I cannot stop watching. Bring on the next emotional rollercoaster.