In many goblin guardian myths, the creature is tied to a physical object—break it, and you free (or kill) them. For Kim Shin, that object is the invisible sword. For a traditional guardian, it might be a hearthstone, a buried spear, or a cursed bell. The link to divinity flows through that object. Remove it, and the god falls silent.

Beneath its fantasy exterior, Goblin is a profound philosophical meditation. As one reviewer perfectly put it, “In the end, Goblin is not about gods or ghosts; it’s about the human heart — its longing, its pain, and its endless capacity to love”.

“Great God,” he’d whisper. “Are you there? I caught a beetle today. Saved you the good leg.”

The primary romance between Kim Shin and Eun‑tak is a classic “immortal meets mortal” trope, elevated by its emotional depth. It is a story of contradictions: an ancient god who wants to die and a teenage girl desperate to live. Shin initially views Eun‑tak as a means to an end, but as they spend time together—from their magical trips to Quebec to their intimate moments in a buckwheat field—he falls for her radiant spirit. Their relationship is bittersweet because Shin knows that to truly love her, he must eventually leave her, either by dying or by watching her grow old and perish, a fate he has endured countless times before.