In 2025, TVING released a sageuk that shattered all the quiet expectations of the historical romance genre. The Scandal of Chunhwa, a sensual, feminist-driven drama starring Go Ara, Chang Ryul, and Kang Chan-hee, dared to place female desire and autonomy at the center of palace politics—and audiences were hooked.
From the moment the show’s premise was revealed—a Joseon princess accused of inspiring an erotic painting series—it sparked conversations around the role of women in historical storytelling, censorship in Korean media, and how far a period K-drama could push the boundaries. By its finale, The Scandal of Chunhwa had not only trended across Asia, but it also forced viewers to rethink what sageuk romance could be.
A Royal Rebellion Wrapped in Silk
At the heart of this series is Princess Hwa-ri, played with grace and fire by Go Ara. In a palace where every woman is controlled—by bloodline, by duty, by male guardianship—Hwa-ri emerges as a disruptor. When anonymous erotic artworks surface, and the court suspects she is both muse and perhaps participant, the king orders her to marry one of two suitors and extinguish the scandal.
But instead of obeying, Hwa-ri makes a radical choice: she’ll court both men, set her own terms, and reclaim the scandal rather than deny it.
It’s a setup ripe for melodrama, yet director Lee Kwang-young balances the royal scandal with restrained, sensual storytelling that feels far more character-driven than it first appears. What might have been a shallow seduction plot becomes a story about consent, emotional truth, and creative autonomy in a world obsessed with reputation.
The Painting Behind the Drama
Much of the series’ metaphorical weight hinges on chunhwa, erotic Korean art traditionally considered taboo. Within the story, a hidden set of paintings known as The Chunhwa Love Stories begins circulating among nobles. These paintings depict a faceless princess in moments of vulnerability and pleasure—and as rumors swirl, it is Hwa-ri who stands accused.
What elevates this beyond plot gimmick is the show’s treatment of the art itself. The paintings are never exploitative. Instead, they function like narrative mirrors, revealing who sees Hwa-ri as an object, who sees her as a human being, and who fears her simply for wanting to be more than ornamental.
Through the unfolding mystery of the artist’s identity, the show critiques how female stories are often painted by others, rarely by the women themselves.
A Love Triangle That Transcends Tropes
The two men vying for Hwa-ri’s hand couldn’t be more different. There’s Choi Hwan, played by Chang Ryul, a flirtatious commoner with artistic roots and hidden trauma. Then there’s Jang Won, portrayed by Kang Chan-hee, a scholar bred for statecraft—intelligent, stable, and utterly conventional.
What sets this triangle apart from standard fare is that both men serve as foils to Hwa-ri’s identity crisis. Choi Hwan represents passion, risk, and possibility. Jang Won offers social security and tradition. As Hwa-ri navigates them, she isn’t asking “Who do I love?” but rather, “Who sees me?”
This distinction adds gravitas to the romantic stakes. The show refuses to reduce her decision to mere romance. Instead, it asks what kind of life a woman in her position is allowed to choose—and whether any choice made within an oppressive system is truly free.
Go Ara’s Defining Performance
In her most emotionally complex role to date, Go Ara breaks free from the wide-eyed ingénue roles she was once known for. Her Princess Hwa-ri is wounded but proud, playful yet devastatingly aware of her limited freedom. Ara portrays her not as a victim of circumstance, but as a woman sharpening every rule into a weapon.
Whether it’s quietly confronting a royal tutor about her worth, or confronting her father about why daughters are treated as liabilities, Go Ara’s every scene pulses with contained fire.
Many critics have called it her career-best—and they aren’t wrong. Hwa-ri is not only Go Ara’s most mature role, but one of 2025’s most iconic drama characters.
Chang Ryul and Kang Chan-hee Hold Their Ground
Chang Ryul, often cast in villainous or supporting roles, emerges here as a surprisingly grounded romantic lead. As Choi Hwan, he balances smirking charm with raw emotion, especially in later episodes when we learn about his connection to the forbidden paintings.
Kang Chan-hee brings subtlety to Jang Won’s rigidity. At first glance, he may seem like the safe but dull option. But the writing reveals layers of repression and hurt pride that make his struggle—between his affection for Hwa-ri and his loyalty to Confucian ideals—entirely compelling.
These aren’t cardboard suitors. They’re reflections of what Hwa-ri herself might become, if she chose comfort over freedom.
Erotic, But Earned
Yes, The Scandal of Chunhwa is sexually explicit. It wears its 19+ rating with confidence, and some viewers might find the first episode unexpectedly bold. But unlike dramas that use sex for shock value, Chunhwa integrates sensuality into its character arcs.
Scenes of intimacy are not gratuitous—they’re expressive. A single brush of fabric, a whispered poem, or a stolen glance across a bathhouse is filmed with the care of a full dialogue scene. Director Lee treats physical intimacy not as climax, but as communication.
For a K-drama, this is quietly revolutionary. It doesn’t shy away from the body. It honors it.
The Palace Is Political
Beneath the story of personal awakening lies a dense layer of court politics. There’s the crown prince who wants power at all costs, ministers vying to preserve traditional norms, and the king himself—who views Hwa-ri as a symbol of disruption more than a daughter.
The political drama never overshadows the romance, but it adds meaningful stakes. Every decision Hwa-ri makes—whom she dances with at a banquet, what she says during a painting critique, how she dresses for an imperial visit—is loaded with consequence.
Even love, in this world, is a calculated risk.
Not Without Flaws
If The Scandal of Chunhwa stumbles anywhere, it’s in its midseason pacing. Episodes 4 through 6 introduce subplots that overcomplicate the narrative: a sudden royal assassination attempt, a prolonged detour involving a disgraced eunuch, and a backstory dump that slows the tension.
Some secondary characters, especially Lady Seo and the crown prince’s advisor, feel underdeveloped. Their motivations seem thin compared to the rich interior lives of the central trio.
Yet even these missteps don’t derail the experience. They simply crowd the path of a drama that works best when it focuses tightly on Hwa-ri and the men who orbit her.
The Ending: Open, Brave, and Perfectly Bittersweet
Without spoiling too much: The Scandal of Chunhwa doesn’t end with a royal wedding or public triumph. It ends with a personal decision—one that both affirms Hwa-ri’s independence and reminds us that not every love story ends the way it begins.
This is what makes Chunhwa so resonant. It doesn’t pretend a woman like Hwa-ri could burn the system down alone. But it shows us she could carve a space within it, and that is powerful enough.
Final Verdict
The Scandal of Chunhwa is one of 2025’s most daring Korean dramas. With fearless storytelling, elegant production, and a heroine for the ages, it redefines the limits of historical romance on TV. It may not be perfect, but it’s bold, beautiful, and unforgettable.
Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5)