What Is Choi Jong In'S Relationship With Sung Jin Woo?

Choi Jong In and Sung Jin Woo’s relationship is one of those dynamic shifts that make 'Solo Leveling' so compelling. Initially, Choi is the epitome of the arrogant S-rank Hunter, looking down on Jin Woo as a weak E-rank. There’s this palpable tension whenever they interact early on—Choi’s dismissive attitude clashes hard with Jin Woo’s quiet determination. But oh boy, does that change. After Jin Woo’s meteoric rise, Choi’s disbelief morphs into grudging respect, then outright awe. It’s not just about power levels, though; Choi’s pride takes a hit, but he’s forced to acknowledge Jin Woo’s worth. Their later interactions, especially during the Jeju Island arc, show Choi swallowing his ego and even deferring to Jin Woo’s leadership. It’s a classic rival-to-respect arc, but the lack of overt friendship keeps it grounded—Choi’s pride never fully dissolves, and that makes their dynamic feel real.

What I love is how their relationship mirrors the broader Hunter society’s reaction to Jin Woo. Choi’s journey from contempt to quiet admiration is a microcosm of how the world adjusts to an outlier. There’s no forced camaraderie; instead, there’s this unspoken understanding that Jin Woo operates on a different plane. Even in the later chapters, Choi’s role is more of a witness to Jin Woo’s growth than a true peer, which adds a layer of melancholy. Their dynamic isn’t about friendship but about the inevitability of change—and how ego adapts (or doesn’t) in the face of someone who defies all expectations.

Watching Choi Jong In and Sung Jin Woo’s relationship evolve feels like seeing two tectonic plates collide—slow, inevitable, and world-shaking. At first, Choi is this untouchable figure, the Korean Hunter Association’s golden boy, while Jin Woo is practically invisible. The power imbalance is stark, and Choi’s condescension is almost visceral. But Jin Woo’s transformation flips the script entirely. Their interactions post-dungeon break are my favorite: Choi’s barely hidden shock, the way his confidence cracks just a little whenever Jin Woo does something impossible. It’s not just rivalry; it’s existential whiplash.

What’s fascinating is how Choi handles it. He never becomes a sidekick or a fanboy—he stays proud, just quieter. When they team up later, there’s this unspoken hierarchy where Choi accepts Jin Woo’s lead without ever admitting inferiority. The nuance is brilliant; it’s not about who’s stronger but about how power reshapes relationships. Even in the face of Jin Woo’s godlike strength, Choi retains his identity as a top Hunter, just now with a shadow he can’t ignore. Their dynamic is a masterclass in writing rivals without reducing either character.

Choi Jong In and Sung Jin Woo’s relationship starts as pure hierarchy—Choi at the top, Jin Woo at the bottom—but becomes this fascinating study in shifting power. Early on, Choi’s dismissive smirk says it all: Jin Woo is irrelevant. Then the double dungeons happen, and suddenly, Jin Woo’s the one saving Choi’s life. The irony is delicious. Their later interactions are tense but tinged with mutual pragmatism; Choi’s pride won’t let him grovel, but he’s smart enough to recognize Jin Woo’s value. It’s not friendship, just a reluctant acknowledgment that the world has changed.