If “Rizz” was XLOV tearing down the walls built around them, their newly released “Biii:-P” MV is the moment they turn to the people outside those walls and ask, very plainly: why are you so afraid of us?

Where “Rizz” feels dark, ritualistic, and confrontational, the “Biii:-P” MV flips the visual register entirely. It opens in bright colour – wings, playful styling – as if we’ve stumbled into their imagined heaven. But the twist comes fast. Gradually, those vibrant identities are revealed to be a fantasy layered over reality: four patients in stark white hospital garments, observed by clipboard-holding doctors who study them like anomalies. It’s a double fake-out: first joy, then bleakness, then a final surreal reversal that makes the narrative even more powerful.

Fantasy, diagnosis, and the politics of being watched

The MV uses the hospital setting as a metaphor for how society diagnoses anything outside the norm as “wrong.” The doctors aren’t threatening in a horror-movie sense; they’re clinical, detached, making notes as if cataloguing the group’s existence. It’s the coldness of institutional judgement, not violence, that makes the imagery hit harder.

Against that backdrop, lines like “안녕 내 이름은 freak” (“Hello, my name is freak”) take on a much sharper meaning. XLOV aren’t mocking themselves; they’re mocking the label. They’re refusing to let the world decide what is or isn’t “normal.” Even the repeated “괜찮아요?” (“Are you okay?”) reads like a pointed jab: the world often asks gender-nonconforming, or nontraditional people if they are okay – when the real question should be why everyone else is so obsessed with policing difference in the first place.

The lyric “Love on me, hate on me / Baby, you can spin it how you want” becomes the thesis of the MV. If people are going to project their own anxieties onto XLOV, then XLOV will take control of the narrative by leaning into it. They refuse to collapse under scrutiny.

The twist: the angels are real

The second plot twist is what transforms the entire video. After the reveal that the “angel” versions of themselves exist only in their minds, the MV cuts to an actual angelic portal bursting open at the end – shimmering, surreal, completely out of place in the sterile hospital setting. It rewrites everything that came before it.

Because if society insists on painting you as delusional for knowing who you are, then “Biii:-P” asks: what if your truth is the one that was real all along?

In that moment, the fantasy becomes fact. The idea that XLOV’s wings were “imagined” is overturned in the last seconds – a liberation that directly mirrors the themes of the song. They weren’t hallucinating their identities. They were waiting for the world to catch up.

The heartbeat motif

The chorus – “Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep / And my heart goes…” – doubles as a literal heartbeat and a hospital monitor, connecting the internal rhythm of selfhood with the external medicalised gaze. It blurs the line between humanity and diagnosis. Are they alive because their hearts beat, or “alive” only when the doctors monitor them? XLOV answer that question themselves by reclaiming the beep as their own soundtrack, not a symptom.

The counterpart to “Rizz”

Where “Rizz” deals with breaking boundaries imposed from the outside, “Biii:-P” focuses on the insidious ways those boundaries get justified – through judgement, categorisation, and pathologisation.

If “Rizz” is about pushing the line, “Biii:-P” asks why the line existed in the first place.

Both videos are about defiance, but they come at it from opposite directions. “Rizz” tackles repression head-on, while “Biii:-P” tackles stigma and misdiagnosis.

Together, they form one of the most coherent dual visual narratives we’ve seen from a rookie group in years.

The bigger picture

XLOV don’t posture as “different” – they simply are, and the work reflects it. “Biii:-P” is a music video about being misunderstood, mislabelled, and misread, and still refusing to apologise for existing. It’s playful, surreal, and subtly political without ever being preachy.

It’s also a reminder of why fans keep calling them the change everyone keeps asking for in K-pop: not because XLOV are loud about it, but because they’re honest about it.