Touch—A makeup artist and a fallen idol trainee rebuild dreams in Seoul’s dazzling beauty world
Introduction
The first time I met Cha Jung-hyuk on screen—frowning at a lipstick like it had personally betrayed him—I felt the ache of someone who once touched perfection and then dropped it. Have you ever stood at the edge of a dream that took too long to arrive, like Han Soo-yeon did after a decade of training, only to watch the lights go out? Touch doesn’t rush past that heartbreak; it lingers, brushes concealer over bruised pride, and asks if reinvention can be as intimate as a hand steadying your face. I found myself rooting for two people who learn that artistry can be a lifeline and that tenderness can be an apprenticeship. Their world is glittering but brutal—where trends flip overnight, contracts vanish, and fame can be as slippery as lip gloss. And yet, in the quiet moments between clients and comeback plans, Touch dares to say that the right partnership can feel like finally being seen. It’s a 16-episode romantic comedy that aired in 2020 and streams on Viki, with Joo Sang-wook and Kim Bo-ra guiding us through a beauty industry as competitive as any stage.
Overview
Title: Touch (터치)
Year: 2020
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Workplace
Main Cast: Joo Sang-wook, Kim Bo-ra, Han Da-gam, Lee Tae-hwan
Episodes: 16
Runtime: 70 minutes per episode
Streaming Platform: Viki
Overall Story
Cha Jung-hyuk was once the name whispered backstage at fashion weeks and drama sets—the guru you booked if you wanted your face to tell a story. Then a product line he poured everything into was snatched out from under him by industry sharks, and the fall was not graceful. Debts piled up, contracts evaporated, and his celebrated brand, Cha Beauty, shuttered with the cold finality of a locked studio door. While the gossip mill labeled him “difficult,” he was actually rebuilding his hands—steadying them, relearning why he loved color and texture in the first place. Have you ever had to start over while your past watched from the front row? That’s where we meet him: guarded, exacting, and not ready for the girl who will change his rhythm.
Han Soo-yeon’s life has been a waiting room. For ten years she trained to be an idol, perfecting choreography and harmony while friends debuted and disappeared. One televised audition away from a breakthrough, a manufactured “mysterious case” derails her, and the label that promised to love her talent quietly moves on. The humiliation is public, but what hurts more is private: realizing she doesn’t want to live in a corridor of almosts anymore. It’s in this liminal space that she discovers something surprising—she’s good with brushes, and even better at reading a face. When she crosses paths with Jung-hyuk, he sees the steadiness in her hands before she does. He offers a job as an assistant, not charity; it feels like an invitation to breathe.
Their first weeks together are prickly. Jung-hyuk is precise to the point of prickliness—he times mascara drying like a surgeon, critiques angles like a director, and speaks in the cool language of results. Soo-yeon, despite her patience, bristles at his tone but can’t ignore how he protects clients’ privacy and artistry like sacred vows. In the backroom of a small shop he opens after Cha Beauty’s collapse, they create a workbench intimacy: rinsing sponges, labeling pigments, and learning the choreography of a two-person team. She’s a quick study; he hates how much he notices. Have you ever worked beside someone and felt your pulse sync without permission? That’s the heartbeat Touch listens to.
The industry around them is less gentle. A powerful former colleague and a slick executive push Jung-hyuk to the brink, erasing his contributions to a cosmetics project and icing him out of spaces he helped build. This professional gaslighting is terrifyingly realistic in an ecosystem where NDAs and influencer metrics can rewrite truth overnight. Soo-yeon watches him shoulder that injustice and decides she won’t be a bystander to someone else’s erasure—not again, not after the audition fiasco. She starts pitching ideas, studying skin under different lights, and volunteering to handle lower-profile clients to rebuild their reputation one satisfied face at a time. The shop becomes a refuge for working actresses, backup dancers, and livestreamers who can’t afford scandal but still want to feel beautiful. Slowly, invoices return, and with them, a sense of worth.
K-beauty isn’t just commerce; it’s culture. Touch grounds us in the real Seoul, where subway ads for serums sit next to posters for audition programs, and where a cat-eye can signal a character’s arc in a drama within a drama. The show explores the etiquette of “face”—how a public image is curated by managers, brands, and anonymous commenters—and the private exhaustion of maintaining it. Soo-yeon, who once rehearsed smiles for cameras, now coaches anxious clients through panic before red carpets. Jung-hyuk argues that makeup isn’t a mask; it’s a translation of mood and intention. Have you ever put on a certain shade just to feel braver? The series understands that impulse and validates it.
Romance tiptoes in through ordinary rituals: the way he steadies her wrist while she learns a liner flick; the way she remembers his favorite coffee order on 20-hour shoot days. What begins as mentorship becomes mutual care, then something warmer. The show is careful, refusing to rush consent or complicity; both carry heartbreak, and both are skittish. When they finally look at each other without the buffer of work, it’s after a long day turning a rookie actress into a headliner with nothing but soft light and skill. Their embrace feels earned, like the first unclenched breath after months of holding it in. It’s sweet, a little shy, and very grown.
Complicating everything is Baek Ji-yoon, a top actress and Jung-hyuk’s former muse whose ambition burns hot. She returns with a smile and an offer that looks like salvation for his new shop—endorsements, visibility, brand deals—but comes laced with power play. Her presence triggers old wounds: the compromises he made to keep her camera-ready and the ways he lost himself trying to keep a star satisfied. Soo-yeon, brave but realistic, refuses to be the collateral damage of someone else’s reunion tour. The tension isn’t a cartoon love triangle; it’s a study in work boundaries and emotional honesty in a field where both are negotiable. Watching Jung-hyuk draw lines is as satisfying as any declaration.
Parallel to that, Kang Do-jin, a popular actor, brings heat and humility. He recognizes Soo-yeon from audition days and becomes a safe haven: teasing her out of self-doubt, booking the shop for shoots, and reminding Jung-hyuk that talent doesn’t require cruelty. Do-jin’s attention accelerates dormant feelings—jealousy is a poor makeup remover—and pushes the couple-to-be toward clarity. The show never demonizes Do-jin; it lets him be luminous and lonely, a man whose face hundreds adore but who craves one unfiltered gaze. In an industry addicted to metrics, his sincerity feels like a rebellion. Sometimes a near-miss love is precisely what ripens the real one.
As business steadies, the practical realities hit: lease negotiations, supplier contracts, and scary spreadsheets—anyone who’s opened a creative studio knows this part too well. They debate whether to seek a small business loan, whether to take a risky influencer collaboration, and how to protect client files with real cloud security after a gossip site tries to scrape backstage photos. The series threads these choices through character: Jung-hyuk fights the panic of past betrayal; Soo-yeon fights the fear of failing publicly again. Their compromise—grow slow, keep promises, document everything—feels like advice you’d give a friend. The work romance turns into a work ethic. It’s strangely thrilling to watch two people choose principles over shortcuts.
In its later chapters, Touch circles back to the audition world that wounded Soo-yeon. A special stage appearance tempts her with the old life, and for a moment the hunger returns—spotlights, cheers, the ghost of a dream. But she’s different now; the stage isn’t the only place she belongs, and artistry can live in a quiet studio where a client cries happy tears at her reflection. Jung-hyuk doesn’t hold her back; he tells her to go if she must and to come back if she wants. That freedom becomes love’s sharpest proof. Have you ever realized the person in front of you wants your joy more than your obedience? It’s the greenest flag of all.
The final stretch is gentle, choosing healing over melodrama. Apologies arrive—some sincere, some strategic. Contracts are reworked, betrayal is called by its name, and the shop’s sign glows in a city that no longer feels hostile. Soo-yeon offers mentorship to another trainee who’s flailing between dreams, a full-circle kindness that would have saved her younger self. Jung-hyuk’s hands, once clenched, move with quiet confidence again. And the two of them—still learning, still laughing—walk forward not as saviors of each other, but as partners who know what it means to build something beautiful and keep it.
Highlight Moments
Episode 1 A decade of training ends in a televised elimination that feels like a public breakup. Soo-yeon stumbles out of the studio lights into the night air and realizes she doesn’t know who she is without choreography counts. The next morning she watches a viral makeup tutorial and notices micro-movements the creator misses. That curiosity becomes a door. When she and Jung-hyuk meet, their banter is frost on glass—thin, pretty, and about to melt. It’s the first brushstroke of a partnership.
Episode 3 Jung-hyuk offers Soo-yeon a trial day. He teaches brush pressure by painting swatches on her arm, then erases each line until the skin is calm again. “Your work should never irritate,” he says, meaning more than skin. When she nails a clean liner on a nervous rookie actress, he doesn’t praise; he hands her the next task and trusts her to carry it. That trust lands harder than any compliment.
Episode 6 The sabotage behind Cha Beauty’s collapse surfaces. An executive repackages Jung-hyuk’s formulas under a rival label, and the press eats the curated narrative. Soo-yeon watches him swallow rage to protect former employees and decides to fight the erasure by rebuilding their client roster one satisfied booking at a time. Their small shop opens with mismatched chairs and a swelling waitlist. Failure becomes fuel.
Episode 9 Baek Ji-yoon walks in wearing a smile like a headline. She offers a brand partnership that could stabilize the business overnight but asks for exclusive rights that would effectively own them. The negotiation is electric: Soo-yeon keeps notes, Jung-hyuk keeps boundaries, and Ji-yoon keeps testing where the line is. When he says no to a clause that would cut Soo-yeon out of credits, the room chills. But the refusal is a declaration of what kind of team they are—or want to be.
Episode 12 A quiet confession blooms after a long day. Do-jin’s easy warmth has made everyone braver, and Jung-hyuk can’t hide the way his gaze follows Soo-yeon’s laughter. They don’t call it love yet; they call it “let’s eat before we faint,” and walk home sharing one umbrella. On her doorstep, he finally asks how she wants to be seen—in work, in life, in everything. She answers by reaching for his hand. It’s the drama’s softest thunderclap.
Episode 16 The last episode refuses spectacle for something better: stability. Contracts are clean, boundaries are honored, and a new hire gets her first on-the-job pep talk from Soo-yeon herself. Jung-hyuk replaces the shop’s flickering lightbulb and jokes about “maintenance” like it’s a love language. Their kiss is not fireworks; it’s sunrise. You don’t need to be loud when you’re finally home.
Momorable Lines
“Perfection doesn’t love you back, but people might.” – Cha Jung-hyuk, Episode 3 Said after a client meltdown, it reframes his philosophy from sterile excellence to humane artistry. The line marks his shift from chasing trophies to protecting trust. It softens his edges without dimming his standards. And it becomes the way he mentors Soo-yeon.
“I waited ten years for a stage; I won’t wait another day to live.” – Han Soo-yeon, Episode 2 After her elimination, Soo-yeon chooses action over shame. The sentence is a door slam on passivity and a handshake with her new craft. It also hints at the agency she’ll demand in romance. From here on, reinvention is her love story with herself.
“A good makeup look is a promise—keep it.” – Cha Jung-hyuk, Episode 6 He says it while drafting their client policy to prevent privacy leaks, an echo of scars left by betrayal. The idea of a “promise” underlines the show’s ethics: consent, confidentiality, and care. It’s why their small business grows slowly but securely, the emotional equivalent of choosing reliable coverage over risky hype. In a world obsessed with virality, his vow feels radical.
“If you can read a face, read mine—I’m staying.” – Han Soo-yeon, Episode 9 During negotiations with Baek Ji-yoon, Soo-yeon refuses to be maneuvered out of credits. The line turns her from apprentice to partner. It’s a love line and a labor line, asserting both relationship and resume. Jung-hyuk hears it as the courage he needed but didn’t know how to ask for.
“We won’t be the story they sell. We’ll be the receipt.” – Cha Jung-hyuk, Episode 13 After a tabloid scare, he insists on paper trails, contracts, and boundaries—grown-up choices that protect people as fiercely as feelings do. It’s where business pragmatism (think choosing a sensible small business loan over quick cash) meets heart. Their calm, documented resilience is the show’s love letter to sustainable dreams. And it’s surprisingly romantic to watch two people choose accountability together.
Why It's Special
Have you ever chased a dream for so long that the mirror started asking you harder questions than any audition panel could? Touch opens on that exact ache, then answers it with the surprising balm of second chances. Instead of centering a chaebol boardroom or a murder case, the drama lives where brushes meet bare skin—inside studios, backstage corridors, and pop-up sets—letting us feel how artistry can rebuild a life. If you’re ready to cocoon yourself in something warm and quietly inspiring, Touch is now available to stream with English subtitles on Viki in many regions, including the United States, making it an easy weeknight companion wherever you are.
What makes the show immediately engaging is the way it frames failure as a beginning, not an ending. Cha Jung-hyuk is a once-famed makeup artist whose career has smudged at the edges; Han Soo-yeon is an idol trainee whose dream has been edited out of an audition reel. When their paths cross, the series doesn’t rush to romance—it lingers on healing, mentorship, and the magic of craft. Watching their collaboration evolve feels like sitting at a vanity and seeing your reflection sharpen, layer by layer.
The direction leans into tactile details that beauty lovers will savor: the hush before a reveal, the flutter of a fan to dry foundation, the soft click of a lipstick tube that sounds like a promise. Camera setups favor close-up intimacy rather than sweeping melodrama, and it works—the show keeps inviting you closer. Have you ever felt that soothing concentration of getting ready for a big day? Touch turns that ritual into narrative momentum.
Writing-wise, the drama blends workplace beats with slice-of-life warmth. There’s a gentle humor that comes from the industry itself—temperamental clients, impossible timelines, egos that smudge more easily than eyeliner. But beneath the laughs, the script keeps asking: what does “success” look like when you have to redraw it? The answer is refreshingly grown-up: collaboration, resilience, and precise, everyday kindness.
Tonally, Touch is a romantic comedy that resists sugar overload. The romance simmers like a soft-focus highlight rather than stealing every scene, letting personal growth and professional pride take center stage. When affection arrives, it lands with that lovely, earned glow—less fireworks, more steady candlelight.
Another delight is the genre blend. It’s part beauty drama, part comeback story, part comfort watch. Influencer culture and the entertainment machine provide stakes, but the show keeps its heart anchored in craft. The result is oddly calming; even when characters face crises, the act of creating beauty—of making someone camera-ready—feels like a small rebellion against chaos.
Finally, Touch’s world is specific yet universal. You don’t need to know the difference between a flat and a blending brush to understand the thrill of doing something well. And you don’t need a backstage pass to recognize the courage it takes to try again. The series originally aired on Channel A in early 2020, a fitting window for a story about reinvention and care.
Popularity & Reception
When Touch first aired, it wasn’t chasing record-busting ratings; it was busy earning a reputation as a feel-good workplace romance that champions everyday wins. Reviewers noted how its modest scale became a strength—the small triumphs of friendship and professionalism proved more resonant than any viral scandal.
Internationally, the beauty-industry lens sparked curiosity and affection. On Viki, the drama gathered an active community leaving thousands of ratings and comments, many praising its comforting pace and the satisfying depiction of mentorship. That conversational buzz kept the series circulating well beyond its original broadcast run, especially among viewers seeking a soothing binge.
Press coverage during the run showcased a cast that genuinely enjoyed working together, with behind-the-scenes videos amplifying fan warmth. Moments like Lee Tae-hwan quietly comforting Kim Bo-ra after an emotional take made the rounds, reinforcing the drama’s gentle spirit off screen as well as on.
Previews and set diaries also highlighted the show’s soft-bloom romance, teasing tender embraces and late-night confessions without giving away the endgame. That steady drip of previews kept fans chatting week to week, a reminder that low-key storytelling can still fuel communal viewing rituals.
While Touch didn’t sweep major award shows, it carved out a niche as comfort television—especially for beauty enthusiasts and anyone craving a respectful portrayal of creative labor. In a landscape crowded with high-octane thrillers, its kinder tempo and workplace optimism felt like a welcome exhale.
Cast & Fun Facts
We first meet Joo Sang-wook as Cha Jung-hyuk, a perfectionist makeup artist whose career has slipped through his fingers. Joo plays him with a dignified restraint—precise posture, economical line readings—that softens as the character relearns trust. Watching him rebuild a studio and a self-image at the same time gives the actor a nuanced canvas: pride, humility, and a surprising gentleness that peeks through the cracks.
Off camera, Joo’s leadership reportedly kept the set buoyant. In behind-the-scenes clips, you can spot his dry humor breaking tension after heavy scenes, a dynamic that mirrors his character’s protective streak. It’s easy to believe this energy helped shape the drama’s quietly supportive atmosphere—proof that good chemistry isn’t loud; it’s consistent.
Kim Bo-ra crafts Han Soo-yeon with the mix of grit and fragility that long-haul trainees know too well. Her eyes do a lot of the early heavy lifting; you see both the sting of rejection and the stubborn light that won’t go out. As Soo-yeon discovers her gift for makeup, Kim shifts the character’s physicality—from tentative to assured—in a way that feels honest rather than abrupt.
What makes Kim’s performance even more affecting is her emotional control in pivotal scenes. One making-of video shows her moving from delicate sobs to composure between takes, a testament to focus—and to a set culture that gave the actors room to breathe. Fans rallied around those glimpses, seeing in her process the same resilience the show celebrates.
Lee Tae-hwan plays Kang Do-jin, a top actor whose easy charm hides quieter loyalties. He resists the “rival love interest” stereotype by anchoring Do-jin in empathy rather than bravado, making the character feel like a person you might actually work with—and lean on—when the lights go cold.
Lee’s off-screen kindness became a small legend during the run. In one widely shared moment, he offered tissues to a tearful co-star after a tough shot, a gesture that echoed his character’s steady warmth. Those small acts helped fans invest not just in the story but in the people telling it.
Han Da-gam steps in as Baek Ji-yoon, a star actress whose polish is part armor, part aspiration. Han threads the needle between diva sparkle and human vulnerability, illustrating how fame can both magnify and mask. Her presence gives the series its necessary jolt of glamour while sharpening its commentary on image and identity.
Across episodes, Han modulates Ji-yoon’s edges—sometimes razor-sharp, sometimes soft—so that even her toughest choices make emotional sense. The character becomes less a foil and more a mirror, reflecting what success can cost when perfection is a brand. It’s a performance that makes the beauty-industry backdrop feel lived-in rather than decorative.
And credit where it’s due: director Min Yeon-hong and writer Ahn Ho-kyung keep the world cohesive. Their collaboration favors tactile storytelling—close-ups, gentle pacing, and work scenes that actually look like work—while keeping the romance grounded. The result is a show that trusts small textures to carry big feelings, a welcome creative choice for a story about making people camera-ready.
Conclusion / Warm Reminders
If you’ve been craving a drama that treats second chances with tenderness, Touch will feel like a hand on your shoulder, steadying and kind. Queue it up on your next cozy night in, and—especially if you’re watching on hotel Wi‑Fi—consider a dependable VPN for streaming so your marathon stays smooth wherever you travel. If the beauty arcs inspire a little retail therapy, letting your credit card rewards foot part of the bill turns a splurge into a small victory. And if the show stirs a bigger dream, an online course in makeup artistry can be the first brushstroke toward your own transformation.
Comments
Post a Comment