Most brands that advertise a hyaluronic acid complex never tell you how much of it is in the bottle. Maxclinic, somewhat remarkably, does. Turn this remover over and each of the eight hyaluronate forms is followed by a figure in parts per million: sodium hyaluronate at 1.3 ppm, hydroxypropyltrimonium hyaluronate at 0.13, and so on down to potassium hyaluronate at 0.00026. Add them together and the famous complex comes to roughly one and a half parts per million, or about 0.00015 percent. That is not a criticism of the label, which deserves credit for its candour. It is simply the most useful fact about the product, because it tells you exactly where to look for the part that works — and it is not the part on the front of the box.
What actually does the job is the clear top layer. The second and third ingredients after water are isohexadecane and a pair of volatile cyclic silicones, cyclopentasiloxane and cyclohexasiloxane. Together they form the oil phase of a classic biphase remover: a slick, fast-spreading liquid that dissolves the waxes, film-formers and silicone resins used in waterproof mascara, long-wear eyeliner and transfer-proof lip colour. The bottom layer is water with propanediol, a little salt to keep the phases cleanly separated, a whisper of decyl glucoside to help lift pigment, and a pale green dye (CI 61565) so you can see the two phases in the bottle. Shake it and the two merge into a thin milky lotion for about a minute, which is the window in which you should soak your cotton pad.
In use it behaves the way a good biphase should. Hold a soaked pad against a closed eye for ten or fifteen seconds and waterproof mascara loosens into smudges that come away in two or three downward swipes. There is no tugging at the lash line, which matters more than people think: repeated rubbing around the eyes is a genuine, if slow, contributor to lash breakage and to the dull, slightly crepey look of the lid skin. On lips it handles liquid lipstick and stain-type tints well, again with a press-and-wait approach rather than scrubbing. The absence of fragrance and alcohol is a real advantage in a product that gets this close to the eye; there is nothing here designed to smell nice, and so nothing that will sting when a drop inevitably wanders into the lash line.
That wandering drop is the first of the product's honest trade-offs. Because the oil phase is so fluid, a little migrates into the eye and blurs vision for a minute or two. It is not painful, but contact lens wearers should take their lenses out first. The second trade-off is residue. The volatile silicones evaporate, but isohexadecane and the touch of olive oil leave a thin, slightly slippery veil behind. That is deliberate — it cushions the skin and stops the removal from feeling stripping — but it means this is a pre-cleanse, not a one-and-done step. Follow it with whatever face cleanser you normally use, or at minimum a splash of water and a gentle wipe, before you move on to serums.
The other supporting ingredients are there mostly to reinforce the hydration branding. Bifida ferment lysate, the probiotic-derived ingredient familiar from many Korean essences, appears near the end of the list. In a leave-on product there is some early evidence it helps calm reactive skin; in a remover that sits on the eyelid for fifteen seconds and is then wiped away, it is hard to credit it with much. The olive fruit oil is doing a more tangible job, softening the feel of the oil phase so that removal leaves skin comfortable rather than tight. The brand also mentions Chojeong mineral water in its marketing, but the INCI simply reads water, and there is no way to verify that the source matters to the skin.
The small, reassuringly boring cast of preservatives and chelators — 1,2-hexanediol, caprylyl glycol, ethylhexylglycerin and disodium EDTA — is exactly what you want in an eye product: no parabens, no formaldehyde releasers, nothing with a reputation for eye-area allergy. The one ingredient that a truly allergy-prone person might look at twice is the green colourant, which serves only an aesthetic purpose. Reactions to cosmetic dyes are uncommon, but if you have ever reacted to coloured cosmetics around the eyes, it is worth noting that it adds nothing functional.
Where does that leave the review? The Amazon US listing has only a handful of ratings, averaging in the mid-threes, and the complaints that do surface are about residue and a greasy feel — which, as explained above, is the nature of the format rather than a defect. The praise is about waterproof mascara removal and the absence of stinging. Both line up with what the ingredient list predicts. What the formula does not do is hydrate, repair or plump anything, and anyone who buys it expecting the eye area to feel moisturised afterwards because of the hyaluronic acid headline will be disappointed.
At around eighteen dollars for 160ml, the value is fair. That volume lasts three to four months of nightly eye and lip removal, and the formula quality is on par with the category's better biphases, if not distinctive. You are paying for a clean, fragrance-free solvent system and a good bottle, not for any active skincare, and the price reflects that reasonably. Where it earns a recommendation is for people who wear waterproof or long-wear formulas most days and want a remover that does not smell of anything and does not demand scrubbing. Treat it as the first half of a double cleanse, ignore the hyaluronic acid entirely, and it does its narrow job quietly and well.
