Okay, I just finished binge-watching Dear Hongrang (or Tangeum) on Netflix, and I’m still kinda shook. This 11-episode South Korean sageuk, which dropped on May 16, 2025, is a gut-punch of a story—part mystery, part family drama, part romance, all set in the Joseon era. It’s based on Jang Da-hye’s novel Tangeum: Swallowing Gold and follows a rich merchant family torn apart when their kid, Hongrang, goes missing, only for a guy claiming to be him to show up 12 years later. With Lee Jae-wook, Jo Bo-ah, and Jung Ga-ram leading the cast, it’s a slow, gorgeous, heartbreaking ride that had me hooked, even if it stumbled a bit. Here’s my real, unfiltered take after watching it all.
What’s It About? A Family Mess and a Big Mystery
The show centers on the Sim family, who are big-time art dealers in Joseon. Everything falls apart when their eight-year-old son, Hongrang, vanishes. His mom, Min Yeon-ui (Uhm Ji-won), drowns her grief in opium, his dad, Sim Yeol-guk (Park Byung-eun), throws himself into work and adopts an orphan named Mu-jin (Jung Ga-ram) as the new heir, and his half-sister, Jae-yi (Jo Bo-ah), gets stuck dealing with a cruel stepmom while never giving up on finding her brother. Twelve years later, a 20-year-old guy (Lee Jae-wook) rolls in, saying he’s Hongrang. He’s got the scars to prove it and passes the family’s tests, but Jae-yi’s not convinced. From there, it’s a rollercoaster of secrets, betrayals, and a love triangle that had me stressed out in the best way.
The vibe is heavy—think dark family drama with a side of “who is this guy really?” It’s not a chill watch, but it’s so gripping, especially when you’re trying to figure out what this maybe-Hongrang dude is hiding.
What I Loved: The Cast and the Feels
Holy cow, the acting is phenomenal. Lee Jae-wook as the maybe-Hongrang is unreal—he’s all cold and mysterious at first, but then you see these flashes of pain and anger that just hit you. His sword fights are badass, and he makes every scene feel intense. Jo Bo-ah as Jae-yi is my favorite—she’s tough but so broken, always searching for her brother with this heartbreaking gesture where she asks, “Hongrang, do you see me?” I was tearing up every time. Jung Ga-ram’s Mu-jin, though? He’s the one who wrecked me. The guy’s quietly in love with Jae-yi, always stuck in second place, and his sad-puppy energy had me wanting to give him a hug.
The show looks stunning. The cinematography—candlelit rooms, foggy forests—feels like you’re stepping into a Joseon painting. The hanboks are gorgeous, like Jae-yi’s simple but elegant ones versus Yeon-ui’s over-the-top flashy ones. The music’s on point too—the OST, with songs like “Burning Petals” by ABOUT and “Yoamjae” by Kwon Jin Ah, cranks up the emotions. Directed by Kim Hong-sun (who did Money Heist: Korea), it’s got this polished, immersive feel that pulls you into the world.
The heart of the show is what got me. It’s not just about the mystery—it’s about grief, family, and how far people go for love or revenge. The love triangle with Jae-yi, Hongrang, and Mu-jin is so messy and real, full of longing looks and unspoken pain. The quiet moments—like a tense family dinner or Jae-yi staring into the distance—are where it shines. I felt like I was living their heartbreak with them.
What Didn’t Click: Slow Start and Too Much Going On
Here’s where I got annoyed. The first couple of episodes are slow. Like, I was wondering if I’d care about this mystery at all. The episodes are long—around 70 minutes—and they drag early on. Things pick up by Episode 5, but it takes work to get there. Also, the show throws in way too many side stories: political schemes, some creepy “Painter” kidnapping kids, even a ghostly “Snow Man” thing. Some of it feels random and doesn’t vibe with the main family drama. I just wanted more focus on the Sim family’s mess, you know?
The romance between Jae-yi and maybe-Hongrang didn’t totally land for me either. It’s supposed to be this big, forbidden love, but it felt rushed, like they went from zero to intense without enough buildup. There’s a weird incest vibe early on (don’t worry, it’s resolved by Episode 3), but even after, I wasn’t feeling their chemistry. Mu-jin’s side of the love triangle was way more compelling. Also, some plot holes bugged me—like what’s the deal with Hongrang’s buddy In-hoe, or that guild ownership deed that just vanishes? It’s like the writers got distracted.
The Ending: Oof, My Heart
No spoilers, but brace yourself—the ending is rough. I was hoping for something a bit happier, but this show goes full tragedy mode. It fits the themes of loss and sacrifice, but man, it left me feeling hollow. Jae-yi’s arc, though, ends on a hopeful note that gave me some peace—she finds her strength, which I loved. It’s not a tidy ending, but it feels true to the story’s raw, emotional core.
How It Stacks Up to Other K-Dramas
Compared to Netflix sageuks like Kingdom or Gyeongseong Creature, Dear Hongrang is less action-heavy and more about feelings. It’s not as instantly addictive as Alchemy of Souls (another Lee Jae-wook banger), but it’s got that same emotional pull. If you loved Hospital Playlist for its character-driven heart, this is darker but scratches a similar itch. The merchant family focus, instead of royal drama, feels fresh for a sageuk.
My Final Take: Flawed but Unforgettable
Dear Hongrang isn’t perfect, but it got under my skin. The slow start and overstuffed plot hold it back, and the main romance could’ve been stronger, but the incredible cast, gorgeous visuals, and raw emotions make it a must-watch. It’s got an 8.2/10 on MyDramaList, and I totally get why—if you’re into dark, character-driven K-dramas, this one’s for you. I binged it in a few days, and I’m still thinking about those quiet, devastating moments.
If you’re up for a historical drama that’ll make you cry and keep you guessing, fire up Dear Hongrang on Netflix. Stick with it past the early slog, and it’ll reward you with a story that’s beautiful and brutal. Just have some tissues ready.
My Rating: 7.5/10