I didn’t think I would’ve liked this romcom for three reasons:

One, the information dump. Episode 1 was one boring information dump on the female lead’s origins. Long story short, her mom died, moved in with her maternal grandpa and aunt, was shunned by grandpa, met high school BFF and protector, and went to veterinarian school to get her grandpa’s attention.

Equally boring was how she acquired her superpower. A spoiler alert! A meteorite hit her while she was touching a cow’s rump.

Two, the over-written scenes. The scenes about the shaman who was channeling Gen. MacArthur, the female lead’s induction rite to shamanism, and the old man with a conscientious dog could have been condensed into 2 minutes. Tops.

Too me, it’s a red flag when the script goes into a major detail over everything to force a laughter out of me. Be selective, screenwriter! 

Three, humor. Obviously, this show wasn’t written with an American audience like me in mind, so I expected many of the jokes to go over my head and the slapstick to bother me.

For instance, I didn’t think it was amusing when Yebun was sold to work in the flatfish farm. Since when was human trafficking funny?

I know it’s a physical gag, but I was unhappy when the male lead flipped our heroine, Yebun, on her back, twice. That’s no way to treat a woman!

Not nice.

But some jokes I did get. Like the Gen. MacArthur-Incheon joke. Yebun told the shaman that he should be based in Incheon. Lol. That’s where the general landed in Incheon with his battalions to surprise the North Korean army.

I got the “Twenty-five, Twenty-One” parody. When Yebun’s aunt encountered the police chief, she imagined herself and her Oppa in that iconic fencing scene between Kim Taeri and Nam JooHyuk.

From afar, they looked like Kim Taeri and Nam JooHyuk.

I never realized that the fencing scene from “Twenty-five, Twenty-One” was this cringe-y till it was parodied in this kdrama.

The glow-in-the-dark coral lipstick joke also cracked me up.

I guess after a decade of watching kdramas, I can understand a bit of Korean humor.

But here’s why I’m sticking with the show.

One, the actress is a great comedienne. Many actresses do well in romcoms because they can look and play the part of a romantically besotted heroine. But there’s only a few actresses who can deliver a truly comedic performance. If Korean comedy requires slapstick, then there aren’t many Korean actresses who are willing to contort their faces into ridiculous expressions, clown around with their bodies, fall into horse manure, and sacrifice their images for laughs. I can list only a handful of actresses who can do this: Hyeri (“My Roommate is a Gumiho”), Kim SeJeong (“A Business Proposal”), and Choi Kang Hee (“Hello, Me”).

I almost died laughing when Ha Jimin’s character appeared out of nowhere, shrieking her heart out, riding a runaway bull, and clinging for dear life. The bull was just a CGI, but you’ve got to see and hear her because her terror was too funny to watch.

Her mouth was as wide as the bull’s.

As it is, Lee MinKi’s blank face isn’t that funny. But when juxtaposed with her distraught face, it’s funny as hell.

Two, opposites attract. I would love to see more interaction between the main leads. They weren’t together in as many scenes as I would have wanted in these first two episodes. But from what little I saw, I’m drooling for more. Ha Jimin’s antics whenever she tries to look innocent are best at triggering the ever-suspicious, ever-vigilant police detective Lee MinKi.

Their meet-cute was nothing spectacular. He got off the bus to be greeted by a line of people handing out paper flyers for their political candidates, their god, and General MacArthur. He muttered under his breath, “This town is really going to the dogs.” Yebun butted in and said, “It’s actually going to the cows and pigs.” And she handed him her own flyer for her veterinarian practice.

Their second meeting was during the runaway bull incident.

And their third meeting was on the bus when he handcuffed her for touching a man’s butt.

In the second episode, however, their connection showed spark and rhythm. I’m looking forward to see how they’ll help each other solve crimes.

Three, I sense a mystery.  Yebun’s mother purportedly died when she drove her car into the lake. Mr. Cha was there on the scene to comfort Yebun when her mother’s body was fished out of the lake. She was a high schooler back then. Now, in her mid-30s, he still hovers around as friend of the family. Sure, as an assemblyman up for reelection, he relies on his stalwart supporters, one of which is Yebun’s grandfather, to win his campaign. But something tells me that politics isn’t his only connection with the family.

Four, the director is good. I like how the director sets up the shots to deliver the comedy. (I know he doesn’t do this alone. Credit should also be given to his director of photography (DP) and an editor.) In particular, I like that he builds up the comedy with a suspenseful moment. Like the scene when JY spots a ghostly figure in white digging in the ground.

Just when we think something scary is about to happen, he switches and shows the audience something hilarious. I hope the director doesn’t get tired of doing this.

I have to remind myself a few times that this is the same director who filmed “My Liberation Notes.” What a change of pace!

Five, Lee Minki’s character, Moon JangYeol (JY) is interesting.

As usual, Lee Minki delivers. His character has a Tom-and-Jerry relationship with Yebun. I want to see how he’s going to fall in love with her when he thinks of her as a “byeontae” or “pervert.”

As a Seoul-ite, he thinks he’s too good for small-town life when in fact, it’s the good townsfolk who find him weird. He goes around tasting every white powder he sees to check if it’s cocaine. He’s got his work cut out for him because he lives in a town that ships clams, prawns and fish nationwide. From table salt to fish bait power to fish food, he sees drugs everywhere.

I actually see a cute parallel here between JY and Yeobun’s actions. In the same way, she touches buttocks to discover the truth, he rubs cocaine on his gums to identify the drug. (Cocaine numbs the gum and tastes bitter.) But while Yeobun has already discovered the detrimental side effect of her superpower, (i.e., her hair will fall out), JY hasn’t discovered yet what will happen if he continues to obsess with his drug bust.

For now, I’m going to predict that his biggest professional success will be in enforcing law and order in that small town with the assistance of Yeobun.

I think it’s also funny how he goes looking for violent crime in the small town so he can be quickly promoted back to Seoul. For example, he thought the bull incident was a drug crime involving one hostage.

JY: Yah! You said it’s drug-related!
Colleague: The cow got startled while getting a shot.
JY: You call this a violent crime?!
Chief: Yah! What’s more violent than a cow running wild? My hands are shaking from our first case in forever.
JY: Then who was that woman on the cow?
Colleague: She’s the vet.

Even his police chief quickly learned how to play him. He deceived JY into investigating an agricultural incident by pandering to his dreams of solving a violent crime. JY arrived at the “scene of the crime,” ready to wow his sidekick with his investigative skills, only to find a field of dead onions because somebody had applied chemical to it.

JY: Captain, how is this a murder case?!
Chief: All those onions were murdered. Don’t come back until you solve that case.

In other words, the chief turned an herbicide case into a homicide case. It was a bait-and-switch. I want to see what other inducements he’ll make to get JY policing the town as he should.

There you go. My five reasons for watching this sticking with this drama, at least for another couple of weeks. The plot gets curiouser and curiouser.