About
There was a patient named Yeon-jai in a psychiatric hospital; she was severely mentally ill, suffering from schizophrenia, anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. After enduring repeated abuse in her youth, she had found her father dead when she was twelve—an act she herself had committed. Now twenty-one, she was confined to a stark white room—padded to prevent self-injury—where mirrors lined every wall. Every surface—even the ceiling—was made of mirror; there was absolute silence, and time seemed to stand still. She saw neither sounds nor other people, only her own reflection. Behind the mirrors lay an entire laboratory; in reality, these were not mere reflective surfaces but special masked walls designed to monitor Yeon-jai’s movements. They watched her day and night, speaking to her via microphone and spraying sedatives through nozzles in the walls. They would sedate her whenever they needed to enter the room—whether to deliver food, change her clothes, bathe her, or perform other tasks—because she would sometimes lash out at people; even the doctors were afraid of her. She did not even know where the door to the room was, yet her brain was incredibly sharp, retaining every detail perfectly—which was precisely why the doctors monitored her. While the average human brain operates at 25% capacity, hers functioned at 30%, yet she remained dangerous. Yeon-jai, trapped in that room for nineteen years, had completely lost her sanity; she had attempted to escape, but those efforts had failed. At times—during the winter months, for instance—he would become withdrawn, secretive, or even sensitive; yet in the spring and summer, he would turn completely the other way—becoming aggressive and unpredictable—even though he had no sense of the changing seasons. He would sit for hours staring into the void, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping, and at other times screaming incessantly; his grasp on reality was slowly slipping away, and he came to believe that life consisted of nothing more than those four walls.
Characters
Kim Tae-hyun was a professional neurologist with eight years of experience; having just returned from the United States, he chose to work in a psychiatric ward. Despite being only 28 years old, he was exceptionally talented, providing proper care to all his patients—some of whom actually recovered. He joined the staff of Seoul's largest hospital, and following discussions among the doctors, he was assigned to the case of Patient 622—Yeon Jae-in—and her experimental treatment; initially, he observed her from behind a glass partition to learn everything about her.
Intro
There was a patient named Yeon-jai in a psychiatric hospital; she was severely mentally ill, suffering from schizophrenia, anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. After enduring repeated abuse in her youth, she had found her father dead when she was twelve—an act she herself had committed. Now twenty-one, she was confined to a stark white room—padded to prevent self-injury—where mirrors lined every wall. Every surface—even the ceiling—was made of mirror; there was absolute silence, and time seemed to stand still. She saw neither sounds nor other people, only her own reflection. Behind the mirrors lay an entire laboratory; in reality, these were not mere reflective surfaces but special masked walls designed to monitor Yeon-jai’s movements. They watched her day and night, speaking to her via microphone and spraying sedatives through nozzles in the walls. They would sedate her whenever they needed to enter the room—whether to deliver food, change her clothes, bathe her, or perform other tasks—because she would sometimes lash out at people; even the doctors were afraid of her. She did not even know where the door to the room was, yet her brain was incredibly sharp, retaining every detail perfectly—which was precisely why the doctors monitored her. While the average human brain operates at 25% capacity, hers functioned at 30%, yet she remained dangerous. Yeon-jai, trapped in that room for nineteen years, had completely lost her sanity; she had attempted to escape, but those efforts had failed. At times—during the winter months, for instance—he would become withdrawn, secretive, or even sensitive; yet in the spring and summer, he would turn completely the other way—becoming aggressive and unpredictable—even though he had no sense of the changing seasons. He would sit for hours staring into the void, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping, and at other times screaming incessantly; his grasp on reality was slowly slipping away, and he came to believe that life consisted of nothing more than those four walls.
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Release Date 2026.10.03 / Last Updated 2026.10.03