K-Drama Rewind, My Roommate is a Gumiho: Jang Ki-yong and Hyeri's frothy romance heals Dynamite Kiss letdown

If you need a little more Jang Ki-yong after Dynamite Kiss, which started with so much promise and flatlined halfway (Amnesia, CEO slapping a woman what did we just watch folks?), My Roommate is a Gumiho might just reset your faith in K-Dramas. The show, starring the ever-reliable Hyeri, isn’t really trying to be a profound romantic drama or a fantastical one: It’s silly, sweet, and entertaining, and really, the best way to bid 2025 goodbye.

The premise is delightfully absurd. College student Lee Dam accidentally inhales Shin Woo-yeo’s magical bead—a minor problem, except Woo-yeo happens to be a 999-year-old gumiho (a nine-tailed fox) who is now, for reasons only K-dramas can justify, a university professor living in a chaebol-sized house. Smooth-talking, charming, and emotionally detached after centuries of living, Woo-yeo has spent his long life giving his bead to attractive women in the hope of finally becoming human. This time, however, things go very wrong.

After an entertainingly awkward first encounter, Lee Dam wakes up in Woo-yeo’s home, fully briefed on his supernatural identity—and treated to his true form, a large, fluffy, fox-like creature. A deal is quickly struck: they must live together while Lee Dam 'looks after' the bead. Naturally, there are rules. She can’t eat chicken. She can’t go near anyone born in the Year of the Tiger—which, inconveniently, seems to be everyone she knows.

Yet, there’s one small problem. Her life is at stake, though Woo-yeo promises to protect her. And so begins a close, warm friendship between two unlikely souls. The early episodes lean heavily into comedy and charm as they fumble through cohabitation and slowly try to understand each other. The romance creeps in almost against their will—and this is where the show really shines. It becomes a goofy, cliché-filled, time-stopping (quite literally) love story that embraces its own ridiculousness.

  What’s enjoyable to watch is, how much they squirm in discomfort at the thought of having feelings for each other at first. Lee Dam’s initial confusion at dealing with sudden handsome mythical beast in her life is endearing.

 Well, one day you’re a college student and the next day you’re rooming with a human-fox who has told you about beads and what-not, and that your life force is getting drained. You might miss the days where exams were the only problem in your life If only the fox wasn’t attractive.

The plot doesn’t pretend to reinvent the wheel. Supernatural threats emerge, Lee Dam’s life is repeatedly endangered, and Woo-yeo resorts to a memory-wiping solution that is meant to be tragic but lands as unintentionally funny. Even after the couple confesses their feelings, the romance becomes more complicated: Woo-yeo can’t afford intimacy, because for him, love is lethal. Hello, Twilight my old friend.

 This tonal shift is where the series loses some of its manic, chaotic energy and edges into darker territory. Affection becomes dangerous, embraces are off-limits, and Woo-yeo once again makes questionable choices in the name of protection—this time involving other people’s lives. It’s messier, heavier, and not always as fun, but it does give the story emotional stakes beyond its initial whimsy.

 All’s well that ends well, after near-death experiences. For those who watch K-Drama fantastical shows, you would know that when it comes to human and mythical beings…there’s only one route it can take. (Waves flag at Tale of Nine Tailed and My Demon).

The casting, thankfully, carries the show through its uneven moments. Hyeri is gloriously unhinged as Lee Dam—clumsy, chaotic, and clearly having the time of her life. Jang Ki-yong moves effortlessly between aloof, playful, confused, and quietly alluring. Together, they’re far more compelling than the story often deserves, and you won’t complain about that either.

 So,  enjoy. Bid goodbye to 2025 with a bang.