What Is The Story Of “Karma” K-Drama About?

I thought I was just going to binge a little. You know, one episode to unwind after a long day of pretending to be a functioning adult. But Karma said, “How about instead … we ruin your week?” And I said, “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” This drama doesn’t just slap you with a plot twist. It yanks the floor out from under you, serves up betrayal on a silver platter, and then gives you a hug so cold you start Googling “how to emotionally recover from fictional trauma.”

So yes, I’m your trusty K-drama scientist-slash-casual emotional victim Miss Kay, and I’m here to tell you what Karma is actually about. Spoiler-light, trauma-heavy. Trigger warning: you might fall into a feelings hole you weren’t ready for.

The Firestarter: Lies, Flames, And One Shady Survivor

I still remember the exact second my jaw hit the floor in episode one. I was cozied up in my fluffiest blanket, sipping chamomile tea, expecting mild chaos.

Instead? Fire. Chaos. Identity theft. The vibe shifted so hard, my tea went cold.

Karma begins with flames. Like, literal flames. An abandoned building. A deadly fire. One guy survives—burned, dazed, and claiming to be Park Jae-yeong.

Except… he’s lying.

That lie sets off a chain reaction that links six strangers by secrets, betrayals, and past traumas that refuse to stay buried.

That lie sets off a chain reaction that links six strangers by secrets, betrayals, and past traumas that refuse to stay buried.

And no, it’s not subtle. This show hands you a sledgehammer and says, “Let’s unearth some pain.” I felt like I was being spiritually audited.

Meet The Hot Mess Express: Six Strangers Tied By Secrets

This isn’t just some neatly wrapped tale about good guys and bad guys. For me, it was like watching my own messy feelings get dramatized with better lighting and higher stakes. It’s a story about broken people doing broken things for broken reasons. And honestly? It’s disturbingly beautiful.

• Park Jae-yeong (Lee Hee-jun): Drowning in debt and planning to kill his own father for the insurance payout. Because that’s not disturbing at all. I judged him… and then pitied him. And then judged myself.
• Jang Gil-ryong (Kim Sung-kyun): The ex-gangster hired to do the deed. Spoiler: he has feelings. And regrets. But also… knives. Classic.
• Kim Beom-jun (Park Hae-soo): A con artist who sees the murder, kills Jae-yeong, steals his identity, and fakes the fire. The audacity! But he’s also… kind of tragic? My moral compass did a full pirouette.
• Lee Ju-yeon (Shin Min-a): A brilliant surgeon battling past trauma. Think ice queen with deep scars. She believes Beom-jun is her childhood attacker. Spoiler: he isn’t. But we all suffer anyway. Especially me.
• Sang-hun (Lee Kwang-soo): Accidentally hits someone with his car. Covers it up. Spirals fast. If anxiety was a person, it’d be him.
• Yu-jeong (Gong Seung-yeon): Ju-yeon’s former friend, entangled in her trauma and guilt. Quiet, but lethal to your emotions.

These six? Destined to collide. And implode.

It’s less of a plot and more of a karmic pile-up. I watched in disbelief as one bad decision snowballed into the next, and by the end of episode three, I felt like I needed to lie down with a weighted blanket and rethink what have I gotten into.

Karma’s Coming—And She’s Petty, Precise, And Wearing Heels

I’ll admit—I kept hoping someone would make the right choice. Just once. But nope. This drama looked me dead in the eye and said, “Choices have consequences, sweetheart.” And I felt that. Like, deep in my anxious little heart.

The theme? Oh honey, it’s karma.

Every selfish choice, every lie, every desperate act circles back. But Karma isn’t just about punishment—it’s about consequences. Ugly, ironic, poetic consequences.

Beom-jun steals a man’s life, and I swear, my jaw unhinged when karma came for him hard—misidentified, hunted down, and taken out by loan sharks who thought he was someone else.

Ju-yeon seeks revenge but chooses mercy. Jang Gil-ryong tries to atone. Some are redeemed. Some are destroyed. I was emotionally pancaked.

It asks big questions: Can guilt be erased? Is forgiveness earned or gifted? Is fate fixable? I asked myself those too, mid-episode, surrounded by tissues and unprocessed feelings.

And yes, the timeline? Absolutely non-linear.

We zigzag between 15 days before the fire and 15 days after like a drama-induced fever dream.

My brain was sweating trying to keep up. But wow, the payoffs.

My brain was sweating trying to keep up. But wow, the payoffs.

Twists? Oh, you’ll be double-checking your heart rate. I gasped, rewound, and at one point screamed into a couch cushion like it was personally responsible. This show doesn’t twist the knife—it remodels your entire emotional foundation. Honestly, I considered writing a letter to the writers. Like, “Dear sirs, how dare you.”

What It All Means (Besides Your Emotional Breakdown… Yes, Yours)

Karma isn’t trying to comfort you. It wants you uncomfortable. It wants you thinking about how even small actions can ripple out and wreck people.

And that? That’s very Korean. The show is steeped in cultural themes of fate, filial duty, honor, and karmic balance. In Korea, the concept of injeong (인정)—a deeply rooted emotional bond and obligation—often complicates moral choices.

It’s why a character might choose to suffer in silence, lie to protect someone else’s pride, or commit a crime to save face for their family.

These aren’t just plot devices—they’re reflections of a society where social perception often weighs heavier than personal truth.

Korean storytelling, especially in K-dramas, doesn’t shy away from moral ambiguity. And Karma embraces this hard.

There are no easy villains. No simple heroes. Just people making choices under pressure, wrapped in cultural expectations that aren’t always visible to international viewers but shape everything on screen.

There are no easy villains. No simple heroes. Just people making choices under pressure, wrapped in cultural expectations that aren’t always visible to international viewers but shape everything on screen.

This isn’t your classic Western-style redemption arc. It’s cultural calculus where emotions get crunched, and every action gets tallied—with blood, heartbreak, and maybe some screaming into the void.

And with centuries of cultural code silently guiding every tragic turn. It made me want to call my mom and confess things I didn’t even do.

So… Are You Emotionally Ready For Karma?

By episode six, I was so emotionally mangled, I found myself eating ice cream out of the tub like it was a life raft. I actually paused mid-episode to stare at a wall. No thoughts. Just vibes. And by vibes, I mean emotional wreckage.

So, what’s Karma about?

It’s six deeply flawed people stumbling into each other like emotional dominoes, knocking over lives, truths, and their own last sliver of sanity. It’s about choices made in desperation that you can’t rewind. And justice? It shows up late, in heels, with receipts—never the way you expect.

If you’re ready for something that’ll shred your soul and then casually walk away, this is the show. Watch it. Scream into a pillow. And then call your therapist. Or your best friend. Or your dog. Somebody.

You’re gonna need them.

If you enjoyed watching Beyond Evil, Flower of Evil, or My Name, then you might also enjoy Karma. It’s in that same deliciously dark lane of morally twisted characters making terrible decisions—for all the right (and wrong) reasons.

And if you made it through all that and you still want more? Share this with your fellow emotional masochists.

And leave a comment telling me which plot twist broke you the most. Misery loves company.

And while you’re here, don’t forget to comment below and subscribe for your weekly dose of emotional damage and K-drama scoops—delivered straight from my therapy journal to your screen!