I agree. It's true that standing in the imaginary path of Tae-suk's un-tethered golf ball turns out to prove that Sun-hwa can trust the young man, and it also makes them both realize that they're playing dangerous games, but neither prevents the two from continuing their risky behavior. And it all leads to more and more violence. But then, in psychological terms, people that have been abused often choose unconsciously to put themselves into abusive relationships time and again. In our leading lady's case, she may have simply expected to be pelted at some point. Her action could then have been a way to say "I'm used to this. Just get it over with."
But what rahul capri said fits better with the overall theory mentioned by 'novelle' in their answer posted to the question "White Label over man's eyes": Tae-suk is on a spiritual journey toward enlightenment. My impression is that Sun-hwa herself doesn't quite know why she is compelled to stand in front of the protagonist's swing, but rather that it's instinctual. She's as surprised as he is when the wire breaks and an innocent passerby is killed.
I don't know if this squares with Buddhist theory but it seems to me that her self-sacrificing action forces Tae-suk to change the path he has chosen and ultimately leads to him letting go of the material world. First he chooses to not put Sun-hwa in the line of his golf swing. But literally continuing to grip and wield the 3-iron (status? power? the physical realm?) still brings the suffering of other beings. So he apparently discards the club. Together they discover that their unity can exist in a peaceful setting, which foreshadows the end of the film.
Later, the lovers bury an empty human vessel with reverence, and possibly in a symbolic way, Tae-suk also begins to release himself from the physical realm. Next, he atones for his sins while in prison, which also provides the now more consciously aware young man with time to meditate and move beyond the laws of nature as we know them. However, he can't reach his form of nirvana - eternity with Sun-hwa - until he has worked vengeance out of his soul. Hence, the attack of the policeman.
From there, at each residence the couple had previously broken into, the actions of our hero become less and less malicious. Notice that by the end of his journey Tae-suk has no need to harm Sun-hwa's husband. The first words we hear from either of the two is when she expresses love, and I'm sure the scene was purposely cut to leave us wondering if the now content woman is saying that to her husband or to the spirit that has come to live with them. I believe it is meant for everyone, all the souls throughout the universe. It is at that point that they - and we - can all can exist in harmony.
In any case, it's a fantastic film. Yet another in a growing list coming from wildly imaginative South Korean directors. Bravo!
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