RM made Right Place, Wrong Person before entering the army, then released it after beginning his service. Naturally, we haven’t seen much of him in the way of TV appearances or live shows, let alone been able to hear his thoughts on the album. Instead, a mix of performance videos and music videos—six in total—were released over the course of a month. The album captures the person RM has grown into today. A voracious music lover, RM drew on a variety of different genres, and a helping hand from a number of collaborators, to bring his heartfelt vision to life. With Balming Tiger member San Yawn at the center of it all, the BTS superstar turned to his tastes rather than well-known names to create his dream team composed of Korean and international artists alike. The result is something unique within the already rare world of K-pop idols steering their own music. RM steps out beyond expectations of creating a mere offshoot of BTS’s work and into genres that lie in uncharted territory. The album isn’t some simple personal pet project, but a project with all the resources of a full-scale international release behind it. From there, RM then drew from his Korean and, more broadly speaking, Asian identity, and the sense of being an outsider in the eyes of the Western world. And it’s all possible thanks to it being K-pop, and being BTS, and being RM. As has been pointed out before, RM’s linguistic freedom is less of a strength or selling point and more just a part of who he is.

It makes sense that a series of music videos designed to back an entire album would reflect the overall character of that album. “Come back to me,” released as a single in advance of the album, was directed by Lee Sung Jin, who also created the Netflix series Beef. Last year, Lee spoke at a special session of a conference in Korea about how, in the past, he “wrote worrying, ‘How could I write something that Americans would like?’” Now, he said, “I try to express my identity when I write.” The principal actors in “Come back to me” are all Korean nationals or part of the Korean diaspora. The interior shots—the expert handiwork of art director Seong-Hie Ryu—feel like somewhere alien but ultimately like some kind of residential space in Korea. As seen in movies like Parasite and Everything Everywhere All at Once—and even more recently on popular TV shows like The Sympathizer (HBO) and Shōgun (FX), with their Vietnamese and Japanese narratives—it’s become perfectly normal and accepted to just focus on such stories without having to wallpaper over language and culture.

In a time when Korean music is no longer obscure, can the accompanying music videos aim for something beyond culturally ambiguous extravagance or exotic visuals? It would seem everyone’s been asking a similar question, seeing as, whereas in the past, K-pop couldn’t pull away from specific Korean imagery like its school uniforms, in recent years, it’s expanded to include traditional Korean culture, clothing—hanbok—and folklore. RM’s approach doesn’t stand out because it’s modern but because it’s cinematic. Just enough is left unsaid to suggest a proliferation of unexplored paths, and the circular structure captures the album’s themes of right and wrong, the clash between wanting to be yourself and questioning your identity, and the conflict between wanting to explore new things and just keeping to what you know.

“LOST!” was directed by Aube Perrie. Perrie won Best New Director and Best Hip Hop/Grime/Rap Video (International) at the 2021 UK Music Video Awards for his work on MK’s song “Chemical” and Megan Thee Stallion’s song “Thot Shit,” and he later rose to fame for his contributions to the Harry Styles songs “Music For a Sushi Restaurant” and “Satellite.” Perrie’s music videos are known for pushing the limits of imagination within some situation or setting. A patchwork of styles, including claymation, and sets that make it look like they’re working in miniature or in an old TV studio, all swirl together into an Escher-like maze of repetition and time paradoxes.

The videos for “Groin,” “Nuts,” “Domodachi” (feat. Little Simz), and “ㅠㅠ (Credit Roll)” were all released later and all directed by Pennacky. The director is celebrated in the Japanese indie scene for pioneering the retro ’80s/’90s visual style and is well-known for his collaborations with numerous Asian artists outside Japan as well, like Korean crew Balming Tiger, Singaporean band Sobs, and Indonesian group Gizpel. But it wouldn’t be fair to say he only works within the indie scene, having also worked with massive Japanese artists like ATARASHII GAKKO! and mainstream Western acts like Phoenix. Pennacky’s distinctive signature style is all over his videos for RM. He shows a consistent preference for certain imagery—16 mm film stock, simple approaches to fascinating effects whose sprezzatura he makes no effort to hide—and a tendency to specifically emphasize the Japanese qualities of his videos, regardless of the singer’s nationality or whether it’s a high-profile video for a mainstream artist, like the stock Japanese office worker character and traditional practical effects.

Among all his work with RM, though, Pennacky’s video for the album’s penultimate track, “ㅠㅠ (Credit Roll),” stands out the most. RM sits in front of a camera, the footage sent to an old, boxy TV, while just beside him, people of all different ages and backgrounds sit on the floor around a low table—a bapsang—sharing a meal that could be Korean, though it’s hard to say for sure. They have a lively conversation over the food without looking over at the TV even once. A group of non-Koreans engaged in a typical Korean, or even just Asian, meal, while RM sings on TV—could there be a better metaphor for how proud RM deserves to be, and the mystery of what lies ahead for him? At this point, “ㅠㅠ (Credit Roll)” is more than just a humble outro track thanking us in advance for sitting through the credits. Some artists see themselves as a platform in themselves. Right Place, Wrong Person brings up concepts like that of outsiders, global stars, untrodden paths, and finding it hard to fit in—or maybe being unfit altogether. RM’s diverse range of collaborators add to the texture of the idol’s music and videos and enrich the whole discussion by bringing more context to the table. And it’s all possible thanks to it being K-pop, and being BTS, and being RM.