Three central characters from Made in Korea Season 2 against a dark blue political-thriller background

Made in Korea Season 2: What You Need to Know Before You Watch

Baek Kitae has reached the top. Jang Geonyoung is back. But to understand what Season 2 is really setting up, you need to know one date, two powerful institutions — and the military strongman waiting in Korea’s future.


Watch the Made in Korea Season 2 trailer without any knowledge of modern Korean history and it looks fairly simple. Baek Kitae has grown more powerful. Jang Geonyoung is back. Baek Kihyun has become a military officer with real authority. The three of them are aiming at each other again.

Then you recognize one date in the trailer, and the whole thing changes.

October 26, 1979. The day of the most consequential political assassination in modern Korean history. The president from Season 1 is killed by the director of the KCIA, and the country falls into a political vacuum. Season 2 drops Baek Kitae right into the middle of it.

To follow Season 2 properly, read these two first:

Made in Korea Season 1: Full Story and Ending Explained — Before Season 2

Made in Korea: Is It a True Story? The Real History Behind Season 1

The short version: Baek Kitae was a KCIA officer running a drug operation on the side, and prosecutor Jang Geonyoung spent Season 1 chasing him. By the finale, Kitae had been promoted and Geonyoung had been framed as a corrupt prosecutor and destroyed. Baek Kihyun is Kitae’s younger brother, a military officer who — unlike his brother — tries to hold onto his principles.

What the Trailer Tells Us

In Season 1, Baek Kitae rose to branch chief of the KCIA’s Busan office. Nine years later in Season 2, he’s a deputy director of the agency, and by the end of the trailer he’s been named acting director.

Jang Geonyoung returns too, but not as a prosecutor. This time he joins the Joint Investigation Headquarters as a special advisor — which means he’s inside the Defense Security Command. Baek Kihyun is a lieutenant colonel there as well. On the surface, Geonyoung and Kihyun are now on the same side.

A new character appears: Hwang Daesik, the commander of the Defense Security Command. In the trailer, Baek Kitae says he’ll eliminate the man himself. In actual history, the Defense Security Command was led by Chun Doo-hwan, who would seize control of the military less than two months later and eventually become president — so Kitae probably doesn’t get to eliminate him.

Signs of the brothers turning on each other run throughout. In one shot, a figure who looks like Kihyun from behind is interrogating Cheon Seok-jung — the younger brother taking apart his older brother’s protection. In another, Kihyun is interrogating Kitae directly.

Even this much makes the structure clear. Season 1 was Baek Kitae versus Jang Geonyoung. Season 2 layers on the KCIA versus the military, Baek Kitae versus both Geonyoung and his own brother, and a dying power against a rising one.

What Was the KCIA?

International viewers need this part explained.

By name, the KCIA looks like an intelligence agency along the lines of the American CIA. In practice it was far stronger. It investigated domestic political and security cases directly, not just intelligence on North Korea, and it could coordinate the intelligence activities of other government bodies. Under Park Chung Hee’s government, it was notorious for surveilling, arresting, and torturing his political opponents.

In the Korea of that era, the KCIA wasn’t simply an intelligence service. It was one of the strongest pillars holding up a dictatorship. That’s exactly why, in Season 1, Baek Kitae could bug a prosecutor’s office and threaten to turn the man’s sister into a North Korean spy.

October 26 — The Day a KCIA Director Shot the President

On October 26, 1979, KCIA director Kim Jae-gyu shot and killed President Park Chung Hee. The presidential security chief, who was in the room, died there too.

Park had ruled Korea since the 1961 military coup and held power as president for nearly eighteen years. The core institution propping up that government was the KCIA. And in the end, the man who killed him was the KCIA’s own director.

This is what makes Season 2 work. Baek Kitae has spent his whole life climbing toward greater power, and he finally arrives near the summit of the KCIA. At that exact moment, the institution he climbed starts to collapse. He reaches the top of the mountain just as the mountain begins to shake.

The Position He Inherits Isn’t a Promotion

One thing needs saying here. Baek Kitae becoming acting director of the KCIA looks like success on the surface. It’s the opposite.

The man who killed the president was the KCIA’s director. So would any government trust the person who inherits that chair? Belonging to the same agency is enough to make him a suspect. Kitae arrives at the position he wanted his entire life, and the position is already a bomb.

In one sense the answer looks predetermined. But I doubt this show intends to end things that easily.

The Security Command and the Joint Investigation Headquarters

Season 2’s second power center enters here. The Defense Security Command was a military intelligence agency handling intelligence and security within the Korean armed forces. A president who had taken power in a coup was intensely interested in monitoring and controlling the military, and the Security Command was the core of that effort. After the president’s assassination, a Joint Investigation Headquarters was formed to investigate the case. This is the body Jang Geonyoung joins.

The relationship between the two is what matters. The Joint Investigation Headquarters was created under Martial Law Command after the assassination. But its chief was Chun Doo-hwan, who was also commander of the Defense Security Command. That gave the Security Command extraordinary influence over the investigation. Joining it meant standing with the Security Command.

And the organization was nothing like what its name suggests. “Investigation headquarters” sounds like a team of detectives. In reality it could direct the military, the police, the prosecution, and the KCIA. More importantly, because the body that created it was a military organization, it could mobilize actual troops when it wanted to. An organization holding both investigative authority and military force was running the investigation into a presidential assassination.

Which is what makes Geonyoung’s new position meaningful. He has attached himself to a rising power in order to strike at a dying one. It’s the same choice he made in Season 1, when he allied with the chief presidential secretary to bring down Baek Kitae. The difference is that the power he’s chosen this time is stronger and more brutal.

Is Hwang Daesik Supposed to Be Chun Doo-hwan?

This is what makes the character interesting. There’s no official statement that Hwang Daesik is Chun Doo-hwan. But the details overlap too heavily. 1979. Commander of the Defense Security Command. Military power expanding rapidly after October 26. A new faction in conflict with the KCIA. No Korean viewer is going to struggle to make the connection.

There’s a film called 12.12: The Day, about the coup that followed. It renamed Chun Doo-hwan as Chun Doo-gwang — close enough that the name alone tells you who it is. Made in Korea gives its character a completely different name. Hwang Daesik.

That difference says something about the show’s approach. Made in Korea isn’t trying to recreate history. It’s putting entirely fictional characters inside real events so it can move them freely. Season 1 worked the same way. The Yodogo hijacking was real. Baek Kitae was never on that plane.

In Season 2, October 26 happens as it happened. But Baek Kitae and Hwang Daesik are inside it. So the question isn’t “will Park Chung Hee die?” We already know the answer. The real question is what the show will invent for Baek Kitae to have done inside that history.

The Weight of the Name Chun Doo-hwan

International readers may not know this name. Koreans need no introduction to it.

Less than two months after Park Chung Hee’s death, on December 12, 1979, Chun Doo-hwan launched a military mutiny and seized control of the armed forces. He expanded that power and became president in 1980. In the process, the new military leadership put down citizens in Gwangju who were demanding democracy, and many of them died.

There’s a comparison that has circulated in Korea for a long time. A house is robbed, and the man who arrives to investigate the robbery strips the house of everything and installs himself as its owner. It describes what happened when the October 26 investigation became the pretext for taking the Joint Investigation Headquarters, and then the country.

Koreans hold a divided assessment of Park Chung Hee, weighing his accomplishments against his abuses. On Chun Doo-hwan, most have settled on something simpler: he should never have happened. That difference is what gives Season 2 its weight.

The end of Park’s dictatorship did not mean democracy arrived. Another military dictatorship was already at the door.

Korean Viewers Already Know How It Ends

This is the biggest gap between international and Korean audiences.

The characters don’t know their future. Baek Kitae is climbing toward the top. Jang Geonyoung is trying to destroy him. Baek Kihyun is deciding which side to stand on. Hwang Daesik is reaching for new power.

Korean viewers know more than any of them. After October 26, the balance of power shifted sharply. The Joint Investigation Headquarters, led by Security Command chief Chun Doo-hwan, effectively took control of the country’s intelligence and investigative apparatus. The KCIA was later reorganized and renamed the Agency for National Security Planning in 1981. Historically, the Security Command wins.

So what to watch for in Season 2 isn’t who wins. It’s whether the show follows history. Does the Security Command prevail as it did in reality, or does Jang Geonyoung? Stray too far from the record and Korean viewers may turn on it. How the show holds that balance will decide whether this season works.

Baek Kitae Is Still Talking About Patriotism

One thing hasn’t changed in nine years.

In Season 1, he called it patriotism to manufacture meth in Korea and sell it to Japan. Japanese people get addicted, foreign currency comes into Korea, therefore it serves the country. In the Season 2 trailer, he says it again: “I was being patriotic.”

The Baek Kitae of 1970 used patriotism to justify drugs. The Baek Kitae of 1979 says the same thing from the center of state power. Only the scale has changed.

The Real Question of Season 2

Baek Kitae won Season 1 because he understood how power moved better than Jang Geonyoung did. Geonyoung believed in the law. Kitae found the people who move the law.

But in 1979, the people who moved the law start collapsing themselves. The president dies. The KCIA’s power wavers. A new military faction emerges.

So Season 2’s question changes. When even the people who move power disappear, who does Baek Kitae choose next? That’s probably the most interesting fight this season has to offer.

Video: Made in Korea Season 2 Official Trailer / Source: Disney+ (YouTube)

Basic Info

Director: Woo Min-ho
Writers: Park Eun-gyo, Park Joon-suk
Cast: Hyun Bin, Jung Woo-sung, Woo Do-hwan, Jang Hye-jin, Heo Jung-do
Episodes: 6
Release: September 9, 2026, with two episodes weekly through September 23, on Disney+ and Hulu

Before you watch Season 2, catch up on the story and the history behind it.

Made in Korea Season 1: Full Story and Ending Explained

The ensemble cast of Made in Korea Season 1 framed by fire, crowds, and a dark city street
Illustration: Made in Korea Season 1 / KwaveInsider

Made in Korea: Is It a True Story? The Real History Behind Season 1

Five Made in Korea characters surrounded by cigarette smoke and archival images of 1970s Seoul
Illustration: The Real History Behind Made in Korea Season 1 / KwaveInsider

Looking for more Korean thrillers with this much twist density?

Mousetrap: Full Story and Ending Explained

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What Caused The East Palace Tragedy? Full Story and Ending Explained

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Agent Kim Reactivated: Full Story and Ending Explained

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A Shop for Killers Season 2: Full Story and Ending Explained

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Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

Illustrated thumbnail showing Gang Dan-sim and Cha Se-gye from the Netflix Korean drama My Royal Nemesis

My Royal Nemesis: What You Need to Know Before You Watch

The drama is fiction. The woman behind it is not.


This year, two fantasy romance dramas set in the Joseon dynasty aired in Korea around the same time.

One drew fierce backlash from Korean viewers over historical inaccuracies. The other started quietly, hit double-digit ratings by episode six, and became the first SBS Friday-Saturday drama in history to reach number one on Netflix’s non-English TOP 10. The difference, if there was one: the second had comedy.

The first was Perfect Crown. The second is My Royal Nemesis.

But to watch this drama properly, you need to know something first. Gang Dan-sim, the protagonist, is a fictional character. Every element of her story, however — court concubine, royal poison, political sacrifice, reincarnation in the present — was taken from a real woman. The most dramatic life in five hundred years of Joseon history. Jang Hee-bin.

My Royal Nemesis — Should You Watch It? Yes.

Agree to the admittedly ridiculous premise — a Joseon-era villainess possessing the body of a modern-day struggling actress — and something unexpected opens up. A genuinely new world, exactly as the Korean title promises.

Im Ji-yeon’s performance as Gang Dan-sim is funnier and more natural than anyone anticipated. The discovery that this actress can do comedy — and do it this well — is its own pleasure. International viewers are already reacting on YouTube.

Where Perfect Crown put romance at the center, My Royal Nemesis puts comedy first. Romance follows.

Gang Dan-sim = Jang Hee-bin — The Woman Who Created the Biggest Scandal in Joseon History

Gang Dan-sim is fiction. But her entire setup — concubine, royal poison, political scapegoat, reincarnation — was drawn from the real Jang Hee-bin (born Jang Ok-jeong, 1659–1701).

Jang Hee-bin was the only person in five hundred years of Joseon history to rise from non-aristocratic origins to become queen consort. She started at the bottom. She reached the top. And then she was ordered to drink poison. By the king.

The Woman the Royal Annals Bothered to Describe

The Joseon Royal Annals are an official historical record. They document politics, policy, and governance. They do not, as a rule, describe how women look.

And yet, in an entry from the twelfth year of King Sukjong’s reign (1686), Jang Hee-bin’s beauty is directly mentioned — written by the very political faction that opposed her. Her enemies put her appearance on the record.

It is one of the rarest instances in the entire Annals. And it echoed for centuries.

Just as Britain and America keep returning to Henry VIII — remaking his story for every generation — Korea has kept returning to Jang Hee-bin. And an unspoken rule developed: whoever plays her must be the most beautiful actress of that era. The role passed from generation to generation.

In 2026, it went to Im Ji-yeon. In a form no one expected.

Im Ji-yeon — Yeon-jin Is Laughing

International viewers know Im Ji-yeon for one role above all others. Yeon-jin in The Glory — one of the most chilling villains in recent Korean drama history.

That same actress is now playing a character who panics in a convenience store, scolds a part-time worker in archaic Joseon court language, and gets constantly outmaneuvered by a cold-blooded heir. International reaction has been uniform: “Yeon-jin is doing what?”

That disorientation is part of the drama’s appeal.

What Possession Means in Korean Drama

In Western drama, possession is horror.

In Korea, it’s something else. The idea of someone who died with unresolved injustice returning to the present connects directly to “han” (한) — one of the defining concepts of Korean emotional culture. Unresolved grief, unjust death, the desire to settle what was left unfinished.

Gang Dan-sim drank poison and woke up in 2026. For Korean viewers, that’s not just a fantasy setup. It carries emotional weight.

There’s a scene in the drama where Gang Dan-sim watches a historical television series about Jang Hee-bin — without realizing it’s her own story. A woman who died unjustly, watching how history chose to remember her, without knowing that’s what she’s seeing. It’s played for comedy. It lands as something more.

This Drama Finally Got the King Right

This is something even many Koreans don’t fully know.

In every previous Jang Hee-bin drama, her husband the king has been portrayed as essentially good — a ruler who gets drawn in by Jang Hee-bin but ultimately makes wise decisions. That image has been repeated for decades.

The historical reality was different. He was volatile and unpredictable, and executed officials who crossed him with disturbing ease. The sequence of events in which he elevated Jang Hee-bin to queen, then stripped her of that title, then had her poisoned — this was not the behavior of a wise monarch. It was the behavior of a cruel and erratic man with absolute power.

In My Royal Nemesis, the king figure — Choe Moon-do — is the villain. The grand prince, Cha Se-gye, is the good one. The drama never explicitly names Sukjong. But it finally gave that king the portrayal history actually warranted.

What Perfect Crown Got Wrong — and What This Drama Got Right

Perfect Crown built its story within the actual framework of Joseon history — and paid the price when Korean viewers found the historical details wanting. Borrow history, and history holds you accountable.

My Royal Nemesis set its characters as complete fiction from the start. Gang Dan-sim is not Jang Hee-bin. She is a character inspired by Jang Hee-bin. That single decision made historical controversy impossible. And yet the historical context — the real dynamics of Joseon court politics, the actual character of that king — runs through every episode.

That’s a smart piece of writing.

Basic Info

  • English Title: My Royal Nemesis
  • Korean Title: 멋진신세계
  • Network / Streaming: SBS / Netflix
  • Episodes: 14 (complete)
  • Finale: June 20, 2026
  • Writer: Kang Hyun-ju
  • Director: Han Tae-seop, Kim Hyun-woo
  • Cast: Im Ji-yeon, Heo Nam-jun, Jang Seung-jo

Ready for spoilers? The ending explained here.

Illustrated thumbnail showing Gang Dan-sim and Cha Se-gye from the Netflix Korean drama My Royal Nemesis
Illustration: Netflix Korean Drama My Royal Nemesis / KwaveInsider

My Royal Nemesis Ending Explained — Why the Korean Title Matters

Want to see which fan theories paid off?

My Royal Nemesis: 6 Hidden Clues Korean Fans Can’t Stop Talking About


If you’re looking for something quieter — a drama that leaves you with warmth and a lingering feeling long after the credits roll:

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Illustration: We Are All Trying Here / KwaveInsider

We Are All Trying Here — Why the Korean Title Is Much Darker

Watched it already? The ending goes deeper than it looks.

We Are All Trying Here: Dong-man’s Ending — What the Weather Means

We Are All Trying Here: Eun-a’s Ending — What Her Smile Means


Want something that delivers satisfaction every single episode? Korea’s hottest drama on Netflix right now.

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Illustration: Netflix Korean Drama Teach You a Lesson

Cham Gyo-yuk: Why Korea’s Biggest Netflix Hit Makes Everyone Uncomfortable


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Can This Love Be Translated? — Netflix’s Most Charming Romance of 2026


Watching this one? Drop your favorite scene in the comments.

Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

Joseon dynasty moon jar at the National Museum of Korea Seoul

National Museum of Korea — What to See, in the Right Order

The world’s 3rd most visited museum. Free entry. Here’s how to do it properly.

K-Life

The National Museum of Korea is Korea in one building. From the Stone Age to the late Joseon dynasty, the history and art of this country are all here. And it’s free.

Every museum rewards preparation. Here’s how to get there, what to look for, and the order that makes sense.


Getting There

Take the subway. Seoul’s metro is fast, clean, and easy to navigate.

Line 4 or Gyeongui-Jungang Line — Ichon Station, Exit 2. Follow the signs to the underground passage connecting directly to the museum.

Subway signs at Ichon Station directing visitors to the National Museum of Korea, Seoul
Photo: Subway directions to the National Museum of Korea — Ichon Station, Exit 2 / KwaveInsider

The walkway itself is pleasant — worth slowing down for photos.

Exterior entrance of the National Museum of Korea on a clear spring day, Seoul
Photo: National Museum of Korea — main entrance and outdoor plaza / KwaveInsider

The permanent exhibition building is on the right. Free entry. There’s a security check at the entrance, and the central hall has a replica of the Gwanggaeto Stele and a gift shop. Skip the gift shop for now — the one near the exit has more items and you won’t have to carry things around. Come back on your way out.


What to See — In This Order

Prehistoric Korea

Korea claims 5,000 years of history. Before that, the artifacts look similar to what you’d find anywhere in the world. But from the Bronze Age onward, something distinctly Korean begins to emerge.

Bronze Age artifacts at the National Museum of Korea — mandolin-shaped dagger, bronze bell, and Buyeo face sculpture
Photo: Bronze Age collection — mandolin-shaped bronze dagger, shaman’s bell, and Buyeo face sculpture / KwaveInsider

Mandolin-shaped bronze dagger — found only on the Korean peninsula. Its form is unlike anything produced elsewhere in Asia at the same period.

Bronze bell — shamans across Northeast Asia believed the sound of bells called spirits. That tradition begins here. If you’ve seen K-Pop Demon Hunters on Netflix, the shaman culture in that show traces directly back to this.

Buyeo face sculpture — from the ancient kingdom of Buyeo, in the northern part of the Korean peninsula. It captures the facial features typical of peoples from the northern regions of Asia. If it reminds you of the White Walkers from Game of Thrones — you’re not the only one.


The Three Kingdoms — Goguryeo, Baekje, Silla (BC 57 – AD 668)

Three kingdoms fought for centuries. Silla eventually unified the peninsula. After Silla unified the peninsula, the northern territories once controlled by Goguryeo gradually disappeared from Korean history.

Three Kingdoms artifacts at the National Museum of Korea — Goguryeo tomb mural, Baekje decorative tiles, and Silla gold crown
Photo: Three Kingdoms collection — Goguryeo tomb mural (left), Baekje decorative tiles (center), Silla gold crown (right) / KwaveInsider

Goguryeo tomb mural — a painting made approximately 1,500 years ago. Most Goguryeo artifacts are held in North Korea and China, which makes seeing one here all the more valuable. The artistic depth, given its age, is remarkable.

Baekje tile — the true masterpiece of Baekje art is the Baekje Gilt-bronze Incense Burner, but only a replica is on display here, which is a little disappointing. To see the original, you’d need to travel to Gongju in South Chungcheong Province — quite far from Seoul. Even so, the replica gives you a sense of just how sophisticated Baekje artistry was.

Silla gold crown — looks familiar? It should. This is a replica of the crown that President Lee Jae-myung gifted to Donald Trump at the 2025 APEC summit in Gyeongju. Trump was visibly delighted. The moment went viral worldwide. Whether actual Silla kings wore these crowns — or whether they served a different ceremonial purpose — is still debated among scholars.

Maitreya Bodhisattva in contemplation — one of Korea's most beautiful sculptures, National Museum of Korea
Photo: Maitreya Bodhisattva in Contemplation (Gilt-bronze, Three Kingdoms period) / KwaveInsider

Maitreya Bodhisattva in Contemplation — the peak of Three Kingdoms art. Maitreya is the Buddha of the future, still in the process of attaining enlightenment. Banga means half-seated. Sayu means deep in thought. A figure sitting in quiet contemplation, reaching toward understanding. This is one of the most beautiful sculptures in Korean history. Don’t miss it.


Goryeo (918 – 1392)

Goryeo was a dynasty of aristocrats and Buddhism. This is where Korean celadon and Buddhist art reached their peak.


Goryeo celadon incense burner and melon-shaped bottle, National Museum of Korea Seoul
Photo: Goryeo celadon — incense burner (left) and melon-shaped bottle (right) / KwaveInsider

Celadon incense burner — smoke once curled out through those perforations. A Chinese envoy who visited Goryeo wrote that Korean celadon’s distinctive jade-green color was the finest in the world.

Celadon bottle in melon shape — the elegant curves were designed to resemble a Korean melon. Likely used as a flower vase. A design that would sell today without changing a thing.

Goryeo celadon cosmetic containers — small lidded jars for powder and rouge, National Museum of Korea Seoul
Photo: Goryeo celadon cosmetic containers (12th–13th century) / KwaveInsider

Celadon cosmetic containers — small lidded jars used for powder, rouge, and other cosmetics. The aesthetic sensibility of this era is remarkable. In an earlier post on the history of Korean men and makeup, I mentioned that cosmetics were found in Goryeo male tombs. This is exactly what they looked like.

Why Do Korean Men Wear Makeup? The 5,000-Year History Behind K-Pop

Joseon (1392 – 1897)

Korea’s most recent dynasty. The largest collection in the museum.

Joseon dynasty royal throne with Irworobongdo screen painting, National Museum of Korea
Photo: Joseon royal throne and Irworobongdo (Sun, Moon and Five Peaks) / KwaveInsider

Royal throne and Irworobongdo — if you’ve watched Perfect Crown, this is the location from the finale. The screen painting behind the throne is called Irworobongdo — sun, moon, and five peaks — symbolizing that the king’s authority extends everywhere, just as the sun and moon illuminate the entire world.

Joseon dynasty moon jar at the National Museum of Korea Seoul
Photo: Moon Jar (Baekja Daeho, Joseon dynasty, 17th–18th century) / KwaveInsider

Moon jar — one of the most celebrated works in Korean art right now, drawing international attention. In the Joseon era, potters couldn’t make a vessel this large in a single piece — two halves were joined together. The slight asymmetry you see is not a flaw. It’s the point. Korean aestheticians have compared the moon jar to images of Korean womanhood — not because of perfect symmetry, but because of soft curves, gentle balance, and natural warmth. Look at it for a while. Your sense of what beauty means may shift.

Joseon dynasty artifacts at the National Museum of Korea — white porcelain, buncheong ware with fish design, and tiger and magpie folk painting
Photo: Joseon collection — white porcelain (left), buncheong ware with fish design (center), tiger and magpie folk painting Hojakdo (right) / KwaveInsider

White porcelain — Joseon rejected the elaborate aristocratic culture of Goryeo in favor of Confucian austerity. The luminous jade-green celadon gave way to plain white porcelain. A single brown line on one vessel represents a cord — restraint rendered as elegance.

Buncheong ware — the name literally means “powdered celadon.” Potters applied a white cosmetic slip to the surface — essentially giving the ceramic a face of its own. The fish painted on one piece looks like contemporary art. It was made six centuries ago. Personally, I think this is the finest Korean ceramic tradition — you can feel the freedom of a master potter who has moved beyond technique into something closer to pure expression.

Tiger and magpie folk painting (Hojakdo) — painted by ordinary Koreans whose names were never recorded. The tiger Duffy and the magpie Seo from Netflix’s K-Pop Demon Hunters were drawn directly from paintings like this one.


Final Thoughts

There’s so much more I could say — but space has its limits, and some things are better felt in person. If a friend visits Seoul, this is the first place I’d take them.

The National Museum of Korea ranked 3rd in the world by visitor numbers in 2025. Free entry. Friendly staff. Audio guides available at the information desk.

If you’re coming to Seoul, this is not optional.

For a full Seoul itinerary: Seoul in 5 Days: The Only Itinerary You’ll Need in 2026


Want to know the real meaning behind what you’re seeing in Korean culture? Drop it in the comments — I’ll cover it in an upcoming post.

Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

A man and woman meeting secretly under the moonlight in late Joseon Korea

Why Do Korean Men Wear Makeup? The 5,000-Year History Behind K-Pop

Korean men were wearing makeup 5,000 years before BTS existed.

K-Life


A K-Pop idol steps on stage. Perfect skin. Eyeliner. A look that took serious effort. And somewhere in the West, someone asks: “Why do Korean men wear makeup? Is it a K-Pop thing?”

Wrong. Korean men were doing this 1,500 years ago. Actually, probably much longer. K-Pop didn’t create this culture. It just brought back something that was briefly forgotten.


Korean Male Shamans Have Been Painting Their Faces Since Before History

Shamans across Siberia, Central Asia, and Mongolia still paint their faces during rituals today. It’s how they mark themselves as something between the human world and the divine. Korea was part of that same cultural world.

Korean male shamans — called baksu mudang — have been doing this for as long as anyone can trace. Korea is one of the oldest nations on earth, with a founding myth dating back to 2333 BC. And the country’s founding figure, Dangun, was both a king and a male shaman. So when did Korean men start wearing makeup? Probably around the same time Korea became Korea.

One more thing: if you’ve seen K-Pop Demon Hunters on Netflix, the lead characters are female shamans. That’s not fiction — it’s a tradition that goes back thousands of years.


“Flower Knights” — The Warriors Who Wore Foundation

About 1,500 years ago, a kingdom called Silla ruled the Korean peninsula. Think of it as ancient Korea — a monarchy with its own warriors, culture, and rigid social hierarchy.

Silla’s elite warrior class was called the Hwarang. The name translates as “Flower Knights.” That’s not a metaphor. These were the most respected fighters in the kingdom, and they wore makeup.

A Chinese scholar who visited Silla at the time wrote it down: noble families selected their most handsome young men, powdered and groomed them, gave them the title of Hwarang, and “all the people of the nation revered and served them.”

Earrings. Face powder. Reddened eyes. Jeweled hats. They went to war looking like this. And they won.

The belief behind it was straightforward: a beautiful appearance reflects a beautiful spirit. Makeup wasn’t vanity. It was self-cultivation.

They also danced. Sang. Hiked mountains to build endurance. Before battle, they performed choreographed group routines to raise morale. Sound familiar?

Here’s the part that matters: it was the Hwarang who ultimately unified the ancient kingdoms of the Korean peninsula. The flower knights didn’t just look good. They won wars and changed history.

Screenshot from the Korean film Hwangsanbeol (2003), depicting a Hwarang warrior wearing makeup before battle / © (주)씨네월드
Screenshot from the Korean film Hwangsanbeol (2003), depicting a Hwarang warrior wearing makeup before battle / © (주)씨네월드

Goryeo — Aristocratic Glamour and Makeup Found in the Grave

Silla eventually fell, and a new dynasty called Goryeo took over — roughly a thousand years ago. The grooming culture didn’t go anywhere.

A Chinese envoy who visited Goryeo wrote that men there applied powder to their faces after washing, to make their skin appear lighter and more refined.

And then there’s this: cosmetics have been found as burial goods in Goryeo male tombs. These men wanted their skincare in the afterlife. If that’s not commitment, what is?

Goryeo was a dynasty of elaborate aristocratic culture. If you ever visit Seoul, the National Museum of Korea covers this period in depth. While you’re there, you might also spot the folk painting origins of characters like tiger Duffy and magpie Seo from K-Pop Demon Hunters — those characters come from Joseon-era folk paintings displayed in the same museum. A Netflix show suddenly starts making a lot more sense.

Planning a trip to Seoul? This five-day itinerary has everything you need.

Illustrated Goryeo dynasty cosmetic containers used for powder and grooming in medieval Korea
Illustration: Goryeo Dynasty Cosmetic Containers / KwaveInsider

Joseon — The Ideal Man Was Not Jacked

About 600 years ago, a new dynasty called Joseon took power. Korea was now deeply Confucian — a strict social order built around scholarship, hierarchy, and discipline. This is where the story gets interesting.

In 1592, Japan invaded Korea. Japanese soldiers had to bring back enemy heads as proof of their kills — but Korean and Japanese soldiers were hard to tell apart. The solution: pierced ears meant Korean. Japanese men didn’t pierce their ears.

Even under Joseon’s strict Confucian code, the habit of men adorning themselves was simply too deep to uproot.

Now — what did the ideal Joseon man actually look like? Not muscular. Not rugged. The most admired man had pale skin, long slender fingers, refined features, and the bearing of a scholar. Think less action hero, more poet who has never seen a gym.

There’s a term worth knowing: gisaeng orabi. Not commonly used anymore, but it still exists. Literally “the gisaeng’s older brother” — gisaeng being a class of trained female entertainers, roughly comparable to geisha in Japan. The term actually meant something closer to a man who lives in a gisaeng’s orbit. It sounds like an insult. In practice, it was used to describe a man with striking, almost feminine good looks — pretty rather than rugged. Older Korean women still use it today.

Look at Korean folk paintings from the late Joseon period. The men in them — fine eyes, pale skin, delicate features — look remarkably like a modern K-Pop idol lineup. That is not a coincidence.

The scholars, too, checked their appearance every single morning. Not out of vanity — out of discipline. A disheveled appearance meant a disheveled mind. Joseon scholars carried small personal mirrors everywhere. They just couldn’t post selfies.

A man and woman meeting secretly under the moonlight in late Joseon Korea
Artwork: Lovers Under the Moon by Shin Yun-bok (18th century) / Public Domain

Then It Disappeared

And then, in the space of a few decades, it was gone.

In 1910, Japan colonized Korea. For the next 35 years, traditional Korean culture was systematically suppressed. After liberation came the Korean War in 1950, which left the country devastated and most of its people struggling to survive. Grooming became a luxury nobody could afford.

Then came the American military presence — and with it, a new idea of masculinity. Tough. Hard. No-nonsense. A man who wore makeup became, suddenly, a strange man.

Five thousand years of cultural memory, reversed in a generation.


What K-Pop Actually Did

In the late 1990s, K-Pop emerged. Men in makeup reappeared on stage.

The West asked: “Why do Korean men wear makeup?”

Wrong question.

Korean men didn’t start wearing makeup. Korea always had a culture of men taking care of their appearance. What K-Pop idols do — full makeup, styled hair, a deliberately crafted look — is just the more expressive end of something that was always there. The root is the same. The volume got turned up.

The Hwarang went to war in foundation. The scholars checked their collars in pocket mirrors every morning. BTS steps on stage in eyeliner. It’s the same line, drawn across five thousand years.

K-Pop didn’t create this. It just reminded everyone it existed.


Two More Things Worth Knowing

Western men did this too. Louis XIV of France wore high heels and face powder. Eighteenth-century European aristocrats wore elaborate wigs and rouge. The idea that makeup is inherently feminine is historically very recent — and very specific to certain cultures. Korea just remembers it differently. And longer.

Korean people have been considered attractive for a very long time. A 13th-century Arab geographer named Al-Qazwini described the ancient kingdom of Silla as a land of exceptionally beautiful people. In 1898, British traveler Isabella Bird Bishop wrote in her book Korea and Her Neighbours: “Koreans are certainly a good-looking people.”

That’s not K-Pop talking. That’s the historical record.


The Hwarang sang, danced, and trained together. Sound familiar?

K-Pop lyrics carry more than any translation can capture. Once you know what’s actually being said, the songs you’ve been listening to will hit completely differently. These breakdowns are worth reading:

BTS “Body to Body” — the Arirang section that one critic called a McGuffin. He was wrong.
BTS “Body to Body” Lyrics Explained — Arirang Meaning & Korean References

Illustrated BTS concert stage during the Gwanghwamun performance with the title “BTS Body to Body Lyrics Meaning Explained”
Illustration: BTS “Body to Body” — Gwanghwamun performance / KwaveInsider

CORTIS “RedRed” — why it’s harder to decode than it looks.
CORTIS “RedRed” Lyrics Explained — Why It’s Hard to Decode

CORTIS “TNT” — the Korean underneath the hook.
CORTIS “TNT” Korean Lyrics Explained — What the Translation Misses

TWS “You, You” — what “Dda-reum Dda-reum” actually means.
TWS “You, You” Lyrics Explained — What “Dda-reum Dda-reum” Means


Curious about the cultural context behind your favorite K-Pop song or Korean film? Drop it in the comments — I’ll do my best to explain it properly in an upcoming post.

Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

Korean Liberation Army Gwangbokgun flag signed by independence fighters 1940s

Perfect Crown’s Hidden History: Why Koreans Can’t Fully Enjoy a Royal Fantasy (Part 2)

Korea’s Republic Was Not Given — It Was Fought For

K-Drama & Film


Perfect Crown is one of the most-watched K-dramas of 2026 — but Korean viewers are watching it with a complicated feeling that international fans might not fully understand. The fantasy of a royal Korea is beautiful. For Koreans, it also carries weight.

In Part 1, we looked at how Joseon ended. If you haven’t read it, start there. This part picks up where that one left off.

Video: Perfect Crown Highlight Trailer / Source: Disney+ Singapore (YouTube)

The Name “Daehanminguk” Already Has the Answer

The world calls Korea the “Republic of Korea.” In Korean, it’s Daehanminguk — 대한민국. These two names are often treated as direct translations. They aren’t quite.

Daehan (大韓) — A reference to the three ancient kingdoms of the southern Korean peninsula, unified under one identity. “Great Han.” The name of an entire people.

Min (民) — This is where it gets interesting. And a little disturbing.

In ancient East Asia, slaves were blinded in one eye to prevent escape. The character min (民) originated from that image — a person with one eye destroyed, the controlled, the subjugated. Minguk (民國) literally means: the nation of those who were ruled.

This is not just etymology. Nine years after Japan annexed Korea, a government-in-exile drafted a constitution for a new nation in Shanghai. No emperor. No king. No aristocracy. A nation belonging to those who had been ruled. Korea’s independence movement was, from the beginning, a democracy movement. That declaration was written into the name Daehanminguk.

Korean Liberation Army Gwangbokgun flag signed by independence fighters 1940s
Korean Liberation Army (Gwangbokgun) flag signed by independence fighters — National Registered Cultural Heritage No. 389 / Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

Three Dictators. Three Victories.

Korea was founded in 1948. Then came war. In 1950, North Korea invaded across the 38th parallel. Three years of fighting left the entire peninsula in ruins. What remained was poverty, rubble, and a division that has never healed.

Democracy had to be built on that rubble. It wasn’t easy.

The First Dictatorship — and the Students

The founding president tried to hold onto power through election fraud. In 1960, students took to the streets. Police opened fire. 186 people died. The students didn’t stop. The president fled the country. It was students and the citizens who followed them — not a single shot fired — who brought down the dictator.

The Second and Third Dictatorships — and the Citizens of Gwangju

A year later, the military seized power. For the next two decades, generals ruled Korea. The economy grew. Democracy did not exist. In 1980, a second military dictator took power. The citizens of Gwangju, in the south of the country, were the first to resist. Special forces units were deployed. Citizens were massacred. The official death toll: 166. The entire city was cut off from the rest of the country. Gwangju did not surrender.

The Third Wave — and Millions

Seven years later, in 1987, a university student died under police torture. The government tried to cover it up. Koreans took to the streets. Millions of them. Across the entire country. The dictator backed down and announced direct presidential elections. The electoral system Korea has today was created on that day.


And Then: December 3, 2024

Democracy is never finished in a single victory.

On the night of December 3, 2024, a president deployed military forces and attempted to dissolve the National Assembly. It was a coup.

Citizens ran to the National Assembly. They blocked the doors with their bodies. The soldiers were slow to follow orders. Every one of them knew what had happened in Gwangju 44 years earlier. The citizens knew too. That’s why they weren’t afraid.

The coup failed. The president was impeached and is currently on trial.

Did the people who died in Gwangju know their sacrifice would save South Korea 44 years later? They probably didn’t. They didn’t surrender anyway.


Why Koreans Don’t Want the Crown Back

Perfect Crown is a good drama. I watch it every week.

But for Koreans who know what the name Daehanminguk means — and what it cost to keep it — the scenes with the royal family feel a little different.

Korea’s democracy was not handed down from above. It was built by nameless students, by the citizens of Gwangju, by millions of ordinary people who took to the streets and refused to go home. A nation where the ruled became the rulers. That is what Daehanminguk means.

The crown is better left as a beautiful fantasy.

If you’re watching Perfect Crown and feeling the romantic pull of the royal world — and now also understanding why that crown disappeared — you’re watching the drama with two sets of eyes.


Films That Help You Understand This Era

A Taxi Driver (2017) — Netflix

Gwangju, May 1980. An ordinary Seoul taxi driver agrees to drive a German journalist into the city — without knowing what’s happening there. Starring Song Kang-ho. 12.2 million admissions. You don’t need to know the history. This film puts you inside it.

1987: When the Day Comes (2017) — Netflix

How one student’s death under police torture brought millions into the streets. Based on real events. Starring Kim Yun-seok, Ha Jung-woo, and Kim Tae-ri.

The Attorney (2013) — Netflix

A tax lawyer defends a student accused under national security law — and is changed by it. Based on the early life of former President Roh Moo-hyun. Starring Song Kang-ho. 11.37 million admissions.

12.12: The Day (2023)— Netflix

The night of the 1979 coup — the event that made Gwangju inevitable. Starring Hwang Jung-min and Jung Woo-sung. Over 13 million admissions. Watch this before the others.


Korea has a long history. If watching Perfect Crown has sparked any questions about Korean history or culture, leave them in the comments — I’ll cover them in a future post.

Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

Illustrated scene of Perfect Crown first encounter at a traditional Korean archery range

Watching ‘Perfect Crown’? Here’s What Korean Viewers Know That You Don’t

Chaebol, Princes, and Power — The Real History Behind Episodes 1 & 2

K-Drama & Film


Did you enjoy Episodes 1 and 2 of Perfect Crown? That final scene in Episode 2 — you felt it, right? The lavish visuals, the royal fantasy — this kind of drama never gets old.

But while international viewers were enjoying the spectacle, Korean viewers were reading something extra into the same scenes. Historical and cultural codes embedded in the drama — things most audiences outside Korea won’t catch.

This isn’t a spoiler post. It’s a decoder.

Why Koreans feel complicated watching royal fantasies has been covered in a separate post. This one focuses on three specific elements already introduced in Episodes 1 and 2 — and what they mean.

Video: Perfect Crown Highlight Trailer / Source: Disney+ Singapore (YouTube)

1. The Queen Mother’s Family — Why That Detail Matters

In Perfect Crown, the queen mother comes from a family that has produced four queens. That detail gets repeated. Korean viewers catch it immediately — because they’ve seen this story before.

In 15th-century Joseon Korea, there was a man named Han Myeonghoe. He wasn’t the king. He was an official. But he married four of his daughters into the royal family. Four queens. One father. He effectively ran the country from the outside.

Here’s the simplest way to understand it. The king was the face. The real power belonged to the king’s father-in-law. In Korean, this is called waecheok (외척) — the queen’s family seizing control. It was the thing the Joseon Dynasty feared most.

They tried to prevent it. They failed. History repeated itself.

In the late 18th century, one of Joseon’s most brilliant kings — King Jeongjo — died young, leaving behind a child son. On his deathbed, he entrusted the boy to his most trusted official. That official became the boy-king’s father-in-law. The result? For the next sixty years, that family ran Korea. The king existed. But he was a figurehead. Many historians trace the eventual collapse of the Joseon Dynasty directly back to this moment.

When Korean viewers see the queen mother’s family described as having produced four queens in Perfect Crown — they tense up. Because they know exactly how this pattern ends.

Gyotaejeon Hall Gyeongbokgung Palace Seoul queen's residence Joseon Dynasty Korea
Gyotaejeon Hall, Gyeongbokgung Palace — the queen’s residence in the Joseon Dynasty / Photo: Jeon Young, Kim(Seoul, Korea) / Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 5.0)

2. The Grand Prince — The Most Dangerous Position in the Palace

In the drama, Grand Prince Yi-an is shown helping to govern and support the king. International viewers might read this as simply “a good prince helping out.” Korean viewers read something more complicated.

First, what is a grand prince? In Joseon, a daegun (대군) was a son born to the king by his official queen — a legitimate royal prince. Sounds prestigious. The reality was darker.

A capable grand prince was dangerous. He was a potential rival to the crown prince. Historically, capable grand princes were exiled or killed. In the drama, a news article describes Grand Prince Yi-an as “a modern-day Prince Suyang.” Korean viewers know exactly what that means.

Prince Suyang was a grand prince in the 15th century. He was capable, ambitious — and ultimately, he killed his young nephew, the king, and took the throne himself. He eliminated dozens of rivals along the way.

And here’s the other thing: in actual Joseon history, a king’s regent was always his mother — never his brother or uncle. A grand prince acting as regent simply did not happen. So while Yi-an appears to be helpfully governing in the drama, in historical reality he would be in a precarious position — his life potentially threatened by the very queen mother whose family holds the real power.

Will Yi-an protect his nephew to the end? Or will he become Prince Suyang? That’s the real question this drama is asking.


3. Chaebol — The Republic’s Modern Aristocracy

Samsung. Hyundai. LG. These names are familiar worldwide — smartphones, cars, televisions. But when Koreans look at these companies, they don’t just see products. They see chaebol.

The easiest way to understand chaebol: imagine Steve Jobs had handed Apple not to a qualified successor, but to his children — regardless of their ability. In the United States, that would trigger congressional hearings and wall-to-wall media coverage. In Korea, this has been happening for decades. Companies are inherited by blood, not by merit.

How did this happen? The origins of chaebol go back to the Korean War in the 1950s. The war left Korea in ruins. But there were entrepreneurs with ambition. They created something from nothing and achieved remarkable things. Much of Korea’s economic success today is owed to them. However, their growth also took place in partnership with authoritarian governments of the time.

South Korea’s constitution states that all citizens are equal. There is no aristocracy. But economic inequality clearly exists. And in practice, the chaebol families — passing wealth down through generations — look very much like a modern aristocracy.

The fact that Seong Hee-ju in Perfect Crown comes from a chaebol family but lacks royal status is not accidental. The drama places these two worlds side by side and asks the sharpest question in modern Korean society: what’s the real difference?


Films That Bring This History to Life

The Man Who Lived with the King (왕과 사는 남자, 2026) — Currently in Korean theaters

Han Myeonghoe — the man who placed four daughters on the throne — is a central character. The perfect companion piece to Perfect Crown. A major hit in Korea right now. Watch for the OTT release.

Video: The King’s Warden (왕과 사는 남자) Official Trailer / Source: Central City Media (YouTube)

The Face Reader (관상, 2013) — Netflix

Prince Suyang — the historical figure referenced in the drama — is the central antagonist. Lee Jung-jae, known internationally from Squid Game, plays Suyang. Song Kang-ho, known from Parasite, plays the face reader at the center of the story. This film shows exactly how a capable prince seized the throne — and what it cost everyone around him. Essential viewing. You won’t regret it.

Watch on Netflix →

Video: The Face Reader (관상) Official Trailer / Source: 213 Pictures & Media (YouTube)

This series continues. I’ll be back after Episodes 3 and 4.

Does your country have a modern aristocracy? Leave a comment — I’d genuinely like to know.


Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

Irworobongdo painting from Perfect Crown: Symbol of Joseon Dynasty Royal Authority

Do Koreans Want a Monarchy? What ‘Perfect Crown’ Truly Hides [Insight] (Part 1)

Korea’s Painful Road to Democracy and the Glory of the Republic

K-Drama & Film


Perfect Crown — the new MBC drama starring IU and Byeon Woo-seok — is built around a fantasy: a modern Korea with a royal family, a palace, and a monarchy that never disappeared. International viewers are loving it. But for many Koreans watching the same drama, something quietly uncomfortable stirs.

Do Koreans truly want a monarchy?

According to a survey on constitutional reform and power structure preferences conducted in 2024–2025, over 70% of Koreans overwhelmingly preferred a presidential system. A parliamentary or power-sharing system came in at around 10%. A constitutional monarchy wasn’t even included as an option.

Why do Koreans feel so strongly about their republic? The answer requires some history.

Video: Perfect Crown Highlight Trailer / Source: Disney+ Singapore (YouTube)

Joseon — 500 Years of Legacy

The Joseon Dynasty ruled from 1392 to 1897 — over five centuries. King Sejong created Hangul, the Korean alphabet. Ceramics and painting flourished at a world-class level. A Confucian-based governance system, civil service examinations, and medical institutions — the cultural legacy Joseon left behind is still alive in the daily life of Koreans today.

Living in Seoul, I feel it. Standing in front of Gyeongbokgung Palace, walking through the rear garden of Changdeokgung — you feel in your bones how deep this country’s roots go. Joseon is not simply history. It is Korean identity itself.

For a closer look at Joseon’s palaces still standing in Seoul today, our Seoul itinerary covers them in detail.

Irworobongdo Joseon Dynasty royal court painting sun moon five peaks Korea
Irworobongdo: A Joseon Dynasty court painting symbolizing the omnipresent authority of the King. / Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

The Glory of Joseon — and Its Shameful End

Five hundred years of greatness. But the ending was devastating.

In the late 19th century, imperial Japan extended its reach toward Joseon. The dynasty’s response was weak and cowardly. King Gojong thought primarily of his own survival. A faction of officials chose to collaborate with Japan rather than defend the nation.

In 1894, an estimated one million peasants joined the Donghak Peasant Movement in an attempt to protect the country. Gojong and the ruling class turned their backs on them — and instead allied with Japan to slaughter the very people who had risen up. Joseon destroyed its own last chance at survival.

In 1905, the Eulsa Treaty stripped Korea of its diplomatic sovereignty. In 1910, Japan formally annexed Korea. The dynasty was gone.

Five hundred years of history — ended this way. Many Koreans feel something beyond sorrow about this chapter. Something closer to rage. This is part of why the lavish royal fantasy in Perfect Crown doesn’t land as pure escapism for Korean viewers.


Resistance — The Fight to Take Back a Nation

Koreans are not, by nature, a people who submit.

Survival on a small peninsula surrounded by powerful neighbors — China, Japan — required constant resistance across centuries. A people who love peace but will not tolerate injustice. Both China and Japan, across thousands of years of shared history, have acknowledged this.

On March 1, 1919, independence uprisings broke out across the country. Students, farmers, and religious leaders took to the streets. Japan suppressed the movement by force — thousands were killed. But the spirit of that day did not die. Koreans moved to Manchuria in large numbers to begin guerrilla resistance. The term Uibyeong — volunteer soldiers, ordinary citizens fighting injustice with no official status — has roots stretching back to Korea’s resistance against the Mongols in the Goryeo period.

These fighters reorganized as independence armies, and when the Korean Provisional Government was established in Shanghai, they were folded into the Gwangbokgun — the Liberation Army. The modern Republic of Korea’s military traces its origins directly to the Gwangbokgun.

Korean independence activists released from prison August 1945 liberation from Japanese colonial rule
Korean political prisoners released upon liberation, August 16, 1945 / Unknown author / Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

Liberation — But Division

In August 1945, atomic bombs fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Japan surrendered. Korea was liberated — but not by its own hand. The Provisional Government went unrecognized. The independence movement that had sacrificed so much was not given its due. This remains one of the most painful chapters in how Koreans remember their modern history.

And then came division. Under the pretext of disarming Japanese forces, Soviet troops occupied the north of the peninsula and American forces the south. That division has lasted to this day.


Films That Help You Understand This Era

These are essential. And genuinely gripping.

Mr. Sunshine (2018)

Set in the early 1900s during the final years of the Korean Empire. A Korean-born US Marine officer and a noblewoman fighting as a resistance fighter — against the backdrop of a nation losing itself. Starring Lee Byung-hun and Kim Tae-ri. Written by Kim Eun-sook, directed by Lee Eung-bok. Visually stunning, emotionally devastating. The polar opposite of the royal fantasy Perfect Crown offers.

Watch on Netflix →

Assassination (2015)

Set in 1933 colonial-era Gyeongseong (Seoul). A mission to assassinate a pro-Japanese collaborator — and the people caught in the middle. Starring Jun Ji-hyun, Lee Jung-jae, and Ha Jung-woo. One of the top five highest-grossing Korean films ever made. This is not just action entertainment — the weight of the choices these characters make stays with you.

Watch on Netflix →

The Age of Shadows (2016)

Set in the 1920s. A Korean officer serving the Japanese police finds himself pulled toward the independence movement he is supposed to be hunting. Starring Song Kang-ho and Gong Yoo, directed by Kim Jee-woon. If you enjoy le Carré-style spy fiction, this film is essential.

DVD / Blu-ray →


A Drama Is a Drama — But

Perfect Crown is a good drama. IU and Byeon Woo-seok’s chemistry works. The rom-com mechanics are well-executed. It’s enjoyable.

But the complicated feeling many Koreans have while watching it is separate from the drama’s quality. Enjoying the royal fantasy while feeling quietly unsettled by it — understanding where that discomfort comes from changes how you read the show.

Know why the crown disappeared, and you’ll understand why it still feels heavy.

In Part 2, we’ll look at what happened after liberation — how Korea fought to build its republic, what that cost, and why Koreans today wear that history with pride.


Korea has a long history. If watching Perfect Crown has sparked any questions about Korean history or culture, leave them in the comments — I’ll cover them in a future post.

Some links in this post may be affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.