Confidence Queen episode 1 review—Speed Dial 0—A con within a con, a ruthless crime lord, and justice disguised as theft

Confidence Queen opens with a glittering trick that feels less like television and more like a magician daring the audience to blink. The pilot, “Speed Dial 0,” wastes no time in setting the tone: wit’s sharp as a blade, scams are staged like theater, and the crew blurs the line between thieves and heroes.

For anyone who thought they’d settle into a predictable heist drama, this first episode shows otherwise: it's fast, layered, and unapologetically stylish. What really strikes is how the series manages to combine a glossy and almost playful energy with the promise of deeper battles to come.

Right away, Confidence Queen dares us to buy into its rhythm of exaggeration, not because it feels real but because it feels irresistible.

The rhythm of a perfect scam

At the heart of Confidence Queen is Yun Yi-rang, a con artist with an IQ of 165 and a charisma that makes every scheme look like art. Disguised as a casino hostess, she orchestrates an elaborate setup to take down Baek-hwa, a fraudulent shaman who thrives on exploiting desperation.

The team consists of James, the veteran mastermind, and Gu-ho, the wide-eyed rookie, who, together, stage a dizzying spectacle of fake dealers, counterfeit cash, and a police raid where even the bullets are props.

It’s less about stealing money and more about humiliating the corrupt, a Robin Hood philosophy disguised as crime.

What makes this scam so captivating isn’t just the mechanics but the performance. The show highlights Yi-rang’s composure and her ability to sell every lie with elegance. It also frames Gu-ho as the emotional anchor, nervous, clumsy, but willing to leap into danger for the cause.

The con itself is pure theater, and Confidence Queen delights in the idea that crime, when directed at the guilty, can become a form of justice disguised as showmanship.

Confidence Queen faces darker stakes

The con’s flawless, but the aftermath shifts the mood. James, the backbone of the trio, is brutally beaten by Jeon Tae-su, a man whose philanthropic façade hides his reign as a ruthless crime lord.

The violence lands like a crack in Confidence Queen’s glossy surface, reminding us that while scams can be playful, the stakes are deadly serious. Suddenly, the crew isn’t just running tricks for satisfaction. Now they’re up against a figure who could actually destroy them.

This tonal shift’s where the series really shows ambition. By introducing Tae-su so early, Confidence Queen signals that it wants to pit wit against raw power.

James’s fate isn’t just a narrative twist but a warning that, yes, charm and trickery might dazzle, but the underworld plays without rules. That collision between elegance and brutality is what gives the series its edge, preventing it from becoming just another flashy con story.

Justice wrapped in disguise

Yi-rang’s philosophy crystallizes in the ending reveal. After the staged chaos, she quietly returns the “stolen” money to the victims of Baek-hwa, calling it a “laundry bill.”

It’s a small moment but it frames the series’ ethos. Every con doubles as restitution, and every trick a strike at the corrupt.

It’s clever without being heavy-handed, and it plants the idea that every future job will hold both flair and weight.

It's fascinating how the show frames morality without sanctifying it. Yi-rang isn’t a saint, since she thrives on the thrill of the scam and the adrenaline of fooling powerful people, yet her choices remind us that intent matters, and the ending gesture’s both mischievous and moral, a reminder that behind the smoke and mirrors there’s a mission.

Confidence Queen doesn’t ask us to forgive her methods, it asks us to admire the way she bends the rules of justice to her own design.

A game of masks

What makes Confidence Queen stand out is its refusal to let us settle. Just as the characters reinvent themselves with every disguise, the narrative reinvents its tone, switching from playful banter to ruthless violence in seconds.

Yi-rang parachuting into Gu-ho’s almost idilic life by the sea is both absurd and exhilarating, signaling that this drama won’t slow down.

Beneath the stylish tricks, though, seems to lie a story about survival against monsters hiding in plain sight. This play with masks is where the drama’s real promise lies.

Every new role’s an opportunity to question who’s lying, who’s acting, and who’s truly in control in a cat-and-mouse game where we are as much participants as the characters themselves.

Confidence Queen sets itself apart by refusing to see identity as something stable. Masks turn into weapons, and each unmasking feels like a trap snapping shut, pulling us deeper into its game.

Rating with a touch of flair: 5 out of 5 scams that return justice dressed as theft.