Hellbound: Jiok follows folks who get death predictions from an angel. Chaos erupts. A cult pops up, calling the angel a savior. They want to create a new world order. A lawyer and a journalist dig into what’s really happening. They uncover secrets behind angel’s predictions and cult’s true intentions. Sounds wild, right?

Meet the characters from Hellbound: Jiok

Jeong Jin-soo

Jeong Jin‑soo is the kind of charismatic, unsettling leader who can make a crowd hush with a single look. He talks in measured, almost sermon-like rhythms and somehow convinces people that the worst thing is also the most inevitable. Fans say he’s cold and utterly controlled but then he has these tiny, human slips—like humming to himself when he thinks no one’s watching—which makes him more fascinating and creepier at the same time. He runs things from the shadows, orchestrates fear and faith, and wears suits that are suspiciously immaculate even after chaos.

Min Hye-jin

Min Hye‑jin is a dogged investigator, sort of burned-out but still sharp as a knife. She chases truth the way some people breathe—relentless and a little reckless—and she has this tired humor that sneaks out at odd moments. She keeps a drawer full of instant coffee packets and a postcard from a place she once wanted to run away to (very dramatic), and yet she never loses her moral center. Terrifying scenes don’t faze her as much as bureaucratic nonsense, which says a lot.

Bae Young-jae

Bae Young‑jae is like the stubborn moral compass you didn’t expect—complicated, loud, and weirdly sentimental. He swings between righteous anger and a soft, goofy side that forgets to be cool (he actually cries during bad movies, don’t tell). Whether he’s railing on TV or quietly piecing together an impossible thread, he refuses to let things be dismissed. He can be infuriatingly black-and-white about justice and then do something wildly impulsive out of guilt—chaotic but kind of brilliant.

Song So-hyun

Song So‑hyun hits you in the heart—fragile but ferocious, like someone who learned to survive by holding on too tightly to hope. She’s grief made visible and somehow luminous; the show makes her both painfully real and almost mythic at times. She collects tiny things—pebbles, ticket stubs—and talks to them like they’re little witnesses, which is oddly sweet and a bit eerie. Sometimes serene and resigned, other times exploding with perfectly justified rage; contradictory but human. Also she hums lullabies at the worst possible moments and I can’t decide if it’s comforting or creepy, but I adore it.

Jin Kyeong-hoon

Jin Kyeong‑hoon is the slippery, ambiguous type who makes you squint and try to guess his motives. He can be charmingly affable one minute and stone-cold calculating the next—joyously unpredictable. Rumor has it he keeps secrets in a pocket notebook (maybe) and drinks terrible instant tea to look casual, which is a laughable image but somehow fits. He plays the long game, manipulates pieces with a tired smile, and you never quite know if he’s a villain or just very, very pragmatic.