Starting off with soul, Butterfly soars beyond a typical spy thriller. What’s gripping is its raw emotional core, peppered with explosive action and undercut by the weight of fractured family ties.
The soundtrack of Butterfly injects layers of feeling: that moment when the energy of Backstreet Boys, the punch of Stray Kids’ God’s Menu, and the grit of Johnny Cash collide is audacious and brilliant. Blackpink also makes an appearance with a perfectly chosen track that turns its scene into a stylish, adrenaline-soaked beat. These choices frame each moment, shaping our emotional lens with precision.
At the heart of it all is Reina Hardesty’s performance as Rebecca: chilling, charismatic, devastating. Her smiles, razor-sharp, send a chill and reveal a glimmer of sociopathy masked behind charm. She’s not just acting; she’s compelling you to assess every nuance.
Then there’s the pacing of Butterfly, like a single, relentless chase across Korea. David (Daniel Dae Kim) barely gets a second to register his guilt or regret, having spent nearly a decade away from his daughter, raising a new family with his wife Eunju and their daughter Minhee.
Is it any wonder Rebecca latches onto Juno as the mother figure she’s never had? It’s human, even if it leads to dark places. She grew up without either parent. That emotional orphaning matters. And then the final gut-punch: Eunju’s throat, the ambiguity dripping from Rebecca’s disappearance. If she didn’t do it, how deliciously twisted! If she did, that sets fire to the sequel.
From the very first episode, Butterfly paces like a bullet. David’s reappearance shatters Rebecca’s world, and suddenly, it’s full throttle, with guns, lies, betrayals, family dinners strewn across train stations and safe houses. It’s a kinetic family drama disguised as a spy thriller.
When music hits like a bullet in Butterfly
Nostalgic pop (Backstreet Boys), kinetic K-pop (Blackpink), high-impact hip-hop energy (Stray Kids’ God’s Menu), and acoustic grit (Johnny Cash) create a soundtrack that drives the story forward. Each track transforms the scene it inhabits, pushing moments from tense to unforgettable with precision.
Smiles that cut deeper than gunfire
Reina Hardesty delivers a performance that lingers long after the credits. Her cold smiles, the tension flickering across her eyes, and the calculated charm make Rebecca magnetic and dangerous. You see the sociopathic lean beneath the surface, yet sometimes, you feel the girl she could have been.

A father’s race against time and history
Daniel Dae Kim embodies a man torn apart. Nine years in hiding, seven or eight of them building a warm life with a new family. This is a man who is not just hunted, he’s fractured. Rebecca’s resentment runs deep, born from absence and silence. It’s not only about what he did, but when; she grew up without either parent’s presence.
Bonds forged in shadows
Rebecca’s near-adoration for Juno feels inevitable. In a world where her real mother is gone and her father was a ghost, Juno stepped into a role that was as dangerous as it was intimate. Her attachments grow from necessity and survival, and Butterfly thrives in this grey space between empathy and judgment.
A dinner that tastes like betrayal and the open-ending of Butterfly
The season closes on its most haunting note: Eunju, slit throat, dying in the bathroom, Rebecca gone. Every frame points to her guilt, but the space left for doubt is deliberate and cruel. It’s the perfect cliffhanger, the kind that promises season 2 will make every relationship more dangerous than any firefight.
In summary, Butterfly is more than a chase. It’s a crash course in emotional wreckage clad in tactical gear. With its audacious soundtrack, relentless action, and layered performances, especially by Hardesty and Kim, it delivers a uniquely gutting experience. Bring on season 2, I’m already strapped in.
Rating with a touch of flair: 5 out of 5 suggestive Rebecca smiles