Aju Press - Asia News Hub

Journalist

Joonha Yoo유준하

ReporterCOEX Sejong Center for the Performing Arts & Music, Culture, Entertainment, Automotive

Joonha Yoo is a bilingual journalist at AJU Press (AJP), covering music, culture, entertainment and Korea’s automotive industry.
Raised in Fort Collins, Colorado, he often writes from the scene, bringing firsthand detail to stories ranging
from BTS comeback concerts to unique cultural events that catch the world's eye. "I write from the scene, not from the sidelines."

Latest by Joonha Yoo

Korean Folk Village wins Red Dot award for improving visitor access to heritage SEOUL, July 16 (AJP) - Korean Folk Village, an open-air museum and cultural theme park on the outskirts of Seoul, has won this year's Red Dot Design Award for its mobile platform, it said on Thursday. Its platform was recognized for its digital services, which make exploring the heritage site more convenient and engaging for visitors. It received a Winner award in the Brands & Communication Design category for integrating various services into a single app including QR-code admission, GPS-based navigation, an online docent guide, recommended walking routes, 360-degree virtual reality content, and an online gift shop. The award was given in recognition of the village's efforts to expand access to traditional Korean cultural content through a user-centered digital platform that links visitors’ online and on-site experiences. Organized by Germany's Design Zentrum Nordrhein Westfalen, the Red Dot Design Award is regarded as one of the world's leading international design competitions, alongside Germany's iF Design Award and the U.S.-based International Design Excellence Awards (IDEA). Winners are selected each year by an international jury across product design, brand and communication design, and design concept categories. The winning project will be featured on the Red Dot website and in the Red Dot Design Yearbook. The award ceremony is scheduled for Nov. 6 at the Konzerthaus Berlin. Located in Yongin, Gyeonggi Province, about 40 kilometers south of Seoul, the village recreates everyday life during the country's ancient Joseon Dynasty through traditional homes, artisan workshops and live cultural performances. It has long served as a filming location for period dramas and has expanded in recent years with seasonal festivals and interactive programs aimed at domestic and international visitors. The village said it plans to further expand its digital services to make its traditional cultural offerings more accessible and interactive for visitors. 2026-07-16 13:57:49
Red Velvet ready for full-group return with sold-out concerts SEOUL, July 16 (AJP) - K-pop girl group Red Velvet's upcoming concerts have all sold out, SM Entertainment said on Thursday. The now-five-member group, which originally debuted as a quartet, will hold three concerts from July 31 to Aug. 2 in Seoul. The group initially planned to hold shows only on Aug. 1 and 2, but both sold out during presales opened for their fans, prompting SM Entertainment to add another show on July 31 which also quickly sold out. The concerts will be their first performance together as a complete five-member lineup in about two years. After the concerts, Red Velvet will continue their momentum with their new EP, "Velvet Summer," which is slated for release on Aug. 3 and contains five songs including the title track "Surfin' Boy." The members are also scheduled to return with a new season of their reality series "Level Up Project," which began in 2017 and follows the members on one-day getaways featuring various team missions. The three-episode series is slated for release on Aug. 14, airing weekly on Fridays at 8 p.m. on Mnet and Wavve. It will also be available on Red Velvet's YouTube channel one week after each broadcast. 2026-07-16 11:34:13
KOSPI climbs back above 7,000 as foreign investors snap up semiconductor shares SEOUL, July 15 (AJP) - South Korean stocks led gains across Asia on Wednesday as softer-than-expected U.S. inflation data and ASML's stronger earnings, higher guidance and chipmaking capacity expansion plans fueled broad-based buying, with foreign investors piling into semiconductor shares. The benchmark KOSPI surged 6.24 percent or 427.58 points to close at 7,284.41, rebounding above 7,000 just two days after falling below the level earlier this week. Foreign investors bought a net 2.32 trillion won (US$1.56 billion) worth of shares, while institutions purchased a net 182.3 billion won. Retail investors sold a net 2.47 trillion won. A buy-side sidecar was triggered minutes after the opening bell as program buying accelerated. Buying gathered pace after U.S. consumer inflation came in below market expectations, easing concerns over additional Federal Reserve tightening. Semiconductor shares also gained after ASML reported stronger-than-expected second-quarter earnings, raised its 2026 revenue forecast and announced plans to expand production capacity for EUV lithography systems. Semiconductor heavyweights led the advance. SK hynix climbed 8.8 percent to 2,082,000 won after its U.S.-listed ADR surged more than 27 percent overnight, while Samsung Electronics gained 6.3 percent to 279,500 won. Hanmi Semiconductor soared 29.9 percent as buying spread across the AI semiconductor supply chain. Hansol Technics advanced 23.7 percent after reporting a 96 percent subscription rate for its rights offering, while Daeduck Electronics gained 22.0 percent. The rally extended across the broader market, with 711 KOSPI-listed stocks advancing and 169 declining. Electronics equipment, communications equipment and semiconductor-related companies were among the day's strongest performers. The tech-heavy KOSDAQ climbed 5.80 percent to close at 829.43. Foreign investors bought a net 23.1 billion won and institutions purchased 108.5 billion won, while retail investors sold a net 140.7 billion won. HLB finished at the daily limit, while Jeju Semiconductor rose 20.9 percent. Peptron gained 18.2 percent, Amotech climbed 20.8 percent, and GigaLane jumped 29.9 percent after the National Information Society Agency said Korean-developed Open RAN equipment and AI-based network solutions would be deployed in demonstration projects in Japan. Semiconductor-related companies including TLB, Simtech Holdings and Wonik IPS also posted double-digit gains. The Korean won strengthened for a seventh consecutive session against the U.S. dollar, closing at 1,487.8 won. Japan's Nikkei 225 gained 1.5 percent and Hong Kong's Hang Seng Index rose 1.4 percent. China's Shanghai Composite slipped 0.5 percent after second-quarter gross domestic product grew 4.3 percent from a year earlier, below market expectations. Brent crude traded above $85 a barrel as renewed tensions involving Iran kept supply concerns in focus. 2026-07-15 16:44:49
Hyosung bucks trend with recruitment drive exclusively for humanities majors SEOUL, July 15 (AJP) - Hyosung Group on Wednesday launched a hiring drive open exclusively to graduates who majored in the arts and humanities. Job seekers with bachelor's or master's degrees in fields like history, philosophy, aesthetics, and language and literature can apply until July 22. The move is the first of its kind since the multi-industry conglomerate's founding in 1966, as many of South Korea's major companies are scaling back entry-level recruitment, with new hires increasingly concentrated in fields such as IT and engineering. Hyosung said the latest drive is intended to bring in candidates with strong humanities backgrounds and language skills. Applicants willing to work at overseas sites will be preferred, and once hired, they will not be restricted to a single job category. The company cited its heavy reliance on overseas markets, which account for more than 80 percent of sales, as a key reason for seeking candidates with language skills and the ability to work across different markets. The initiative also reflects chairman Cho Hyun-joon's long-standing emphasis on the importance of humanities education. Cho, who studied in the U.S. and Japan and speaks English, Japanese and Italian, has said in previous interviews that technology alone is not enough to succeed, and that the ability to embrace change and seize the right opportunities comes from the humanities. Meanwhile, an analysis by hiring platform Catch in December last year found that full-time entry-level job openings at major companies fell 43 percent from a year earlier, from 3,741 to 2,145. The decline continued into this year, with job postings down 45 percent year-on-year as of March. The trend comes as companies increasingly turn to artificial intelligence (AI) to handle routine tasks once handled by junior employees like research, drafting reports, and basic coding, pushing hiring toward more experienced workers instead. 2026-07-15 16:27:51
Seoul, one of Asia's richest cities, leaves one village behind SEOUL, July 15 (AJP) - The journey takes barely two minutes. Yangjae-daero, a six-lane boulevard cutting through southern Seoul, is little more than another busy artery carrying commuters toward Gangnam's gleaming office towers and luxury apartment complexes. Thousands cross it every day without giving the road a second thought. Yet few roads in South Korea separate two different economic realities more starkly. On one side stand apartment towers where homes now sell for more than 200 million won per 3.3 square meters, their values climbing alongside an artificial intelligence boom that has turned semiconductor companies into the country's most valuable businesses and is expected to propel South Korea's nominal economic growth to its strongest pace in three decades. Cross the road, however, and another Seoul emerges. The pavement gives way to dirt paths almost immediately. Wooden shacks patched together with corrugated iron, plywood and plastic sheeting line narrow alleyways barely wide enough for one person to pass. Coal briquettes remain stacked beside homes waiting for another winter. Rainwater has stained roofs covered by tarpaulins and old blankets. Hand-sized spiders spin webs across footpaths while mosquitoes rise from knee-high weeds left untended through the humid summer. This is Guryong Village. It is Seoul's last remaining shantytown, a settlement that was never intended to survive into the twenty-first century but now stands as perhaps the clearest physical reminder that South Korea's extraordinary economic ascent has never been experienced equally. The contrast is all the more striking because it exists not hundreds of kilometers from the capital but within Gangnam itself, the district synonymous with wealth, private education and some of Asia's most expensive real estate. From almost every point inside the village, residents can see the apartment towers that symbolize modern Seoul's prosperity. They are close enough to dominate the skyline, yet distant enough to feel like another country. What appears at first to be a simple story about poverty gradually becomes something more complicated after spending several days walking the settlement. The village does not resemble an abandoned place so much as one waiting to disappear. The first thing newcomers notice is not the housing but the suspicion. "Reporter?" The question comes before any greeting. When the answer is yes, conversations often end immediately. "We've seen many reporters," one elderly resident says with a dismissive wave. "Nothing changes." The skepticism is understandable. Residents have watched journalists arrive after fires, politicians before elections and redevelopment officials carrying new master plans. Television crews have repeatedly filmed what they describe as Seoul's last slum before leaving a few hours later. The village remains exactly where it was. Only after returning repeatedly do doors begin to open. Residents who initially refused interviews begin offering greetings. Someone points toward another alley worth seeing. Others quietly explain which homes were destroyed in the latest fire, which residents have moved into public housing and which houses now stand permanently empty. Walking through Guryong Village becomes less like touring a neighborhood than reading layers of Seoul's history. Boarded-up homes bear handwritten notices warning against trespassing after their occupants moved away or died. Children's bicycles lean against walls beneath weeds that have grown tall enough to swallow them. A rusted swing stands almost invisible under wild grass, its empty frame marking the place where children once gathered before their families gradually left in search of better schools, stable jobs and ordinary apartments elsewhere. Further uphill, the smell changes with every turn. Damp timber mixes with household refuse, stagnant summer water and the lingering scent of coal briquettes. Homes assembled from recycled wood, corrugated iron and plastic sheets appear to lean against one another for support. Electricity reaches most houses, but many still rely on improvised repairs accumulated over decades because redevelopment has remained perpetually just over the horizon. The January fire that swept through District 4 remains visible months later. More than 100 pyeong of ground is still covered by blue tarpaulins, while one half-burned house stands open to the weather. Inside, scorched books, blackened appliances and even an old cassette tape remain exactly where the flames left them. Residents speak about fires almost matter-of-factly. The houses are packed too closely together, the roads too narrow and the building materials too combustible for anyone to believe the next blaze can be entirely prevented. Each disaster briefly returns the village to the evening news. When public attention fades, the burned houses remain. 2026-07-15 13:54:46
A very Korean dream hatched in the country's most unlikely place SEOUL, July 15 (AJP) - Before Cheon Young-hwan tells visitors about Guryong Village, he tells them about his sons. Forty years ago, he walked down the hill from the cluster of shacks where his family had settled after being displaced by Seoul's redevelopment drive and knocked on the door of a stranger living across Yangjae-daero. He was not asking for money. Nor was he asking for food. He was asking to borrow an address. Without one, his two boys could not enroll in school. "I begged them," the 74-year-old recalled quietly. "There were many families like us." The family agreed. His sons eventually left Guryong Village. They found work, raised children and built lives elsewhere. His grandchildren have never lived in the settlement. Cheon still does. Every evening, he returns to the same small shack where his mother and grandmother once lived before him, separated from one of Asia's wealthiest neighborhoods by little more than six lanes of traffic. Few places reveal the contradictions of modern South Korea more vividly than this stretch of Yangjae-daero. On one side stand luxury apartment towers where homes sell for more than $100,000 per 3.3 square meters, their owners watching wealth compound alongside an AI-driven semiconductor boom expected to deliver South Korea's strongest nominal economic growth in three decades. Across the road lies Guryong Village, Seoul's last remaining shantytown. Yet after days spent walking its narrow alleys, sharing meals with residents and listening to stories accumulated over four decades, it became clear that the village's defining characteristic was not poverty. It was education. Almost every elderly resident spoke of the same regret. Not that they had lived in cramped houses patched together from scrap wood and corrugated metal. Not that coal briquettes still warmed their homes in winter or that rain leaked through aging roofs during the summer monsoon. What haunted them instead was that they themselves had never been able to study enough. That regret became the greatest gift they could offer their children. Nearly every family eventually sent the next generation away from the village, believing education offered the only reliable route out. They knew too well what opportunities they had missed, and refused to let their children inherit the same limitations. For Cheon, borrowing another family's address was simply one expression of that determination. For wealthier parents living across Yangjae-daero, the pursuit took a different form. Some purchased apartments inside prestigious school districts. Others paid fortunes for private academies or elite private schools. Separated by only a few hundred meters, both sets of parents were trying to solve the same problem. How do you give your child a better future than your own? That realization surfaced repeatedly inside Guryong Village. One resident who had recently moved into public housing after falling ill left behind a room blackened by mold. What remained inside was not furniture or valuables. It was books. Books lined dusty shelves. Books covered the floor. Books were stacked on desks beside handwritten notes pinned across the walls. Cheon explained that his friend had spent years borrowing books from neighbors throughout the village, reading them one after another before passing them on again. Learning, he said, was never a hobby. It was how people here remained connected to a world that had largely moved on without them. Even today, books continue to circulate from house to house, quietly exchanged among neighbors who still read almost every day. The village may have lacked many things. It never lacked curiosity. Only after lunch, as bowls were cleared away and conversation drifted toward old memories, did Cheon quietly suggest taking another walk. A few minutes later he stopped beside an overgrown patch of grass. We had passed it several times without noticing. "There," he said. At first there appeared to be nothing. Then, beneath the weeds, the outline emerged. A rusted steel swing frame. Its seats had long since disappeared. The laughter had disappeared long before that. Children once gathered there after school, Cheon recalled. Now the frame stood alone, slowly disappearing beneath waist-high grass that revealed just how many years had passed since anyone had used it. The children had not vanished because the village had failed. They had left because their parents insisted they should. That rusted swing may be the clearest symbol of Guryong Village. It is not a monument to poverty. It is a monument to parents who quietly gave up the chance to leave themselves so that their children never again would have to borrow another family's address simply to go to school. In that sense, Guryong Village may not be as different from affluent Gangnam as it first appears. Across Yangjae-daero, wealthy parents spend extraordinary sums securing admission to elite schools, private academies and neighborhoods prized for their educational advantage. Inside the village, parents sacrificed everything they had for exactly the same reason. One side bought opportunity. The other borrowed it. The dream was identical. 2026-07-15 13:49:34
The Struggles of Guryong Village: A Fight for Survival in Seoul The watchtower guarding the entrance to Guryong Village still bears the marks of past protests. Even when no one stands inside, the structure seems to echo the cries of its history. After passing the watchtower and walking a few minutes along an unpaved road, we finally entered the village: a deserted public parking lot overgrown with weeds, as if no car had entered for years. The air was damp and heavy, likely due to the rain the day before, creating a heat that would keep people indoors. Thus, we set foot in what is known as Seoul's last shantytown. On one side of the parking lot stood a small village office, where several residents were gathered. As we approached, their gazes sharpened. Even when we greeted them, they remained distant. “Are you a reporter?” someone asked. When I confirmed, the conversation ended there. “I’ve seen many reporters. But what good does it do to talk? Nothing changes,” said both the residents who had lost their homes to fires and those sitting in front of the office. Every time a fire broke out, news crews would swarm, labeling the area as “Seoul’s last slum” before leaving just hours later. Afterward, the village remained unchanged. Everyone avoided making eye contact with us, and some stood at a distance, silently watching our movements. Here, we were not welcomed guests but rather subjects of scrutiny. This sentiment persisted during our visits the following day. Guryong Village began in 1988, when people displaced by the redevelopment of shantytowns in the city gathered ahead of the Seoul Olympics. It grew large enough to be divided into nine districts, from District 1 to District 8. We parked and walked past piles of discarded trash and a recycling station for paper, eventually coming across a few makeshift mailboxes. They appeared hand-crafted, clearly waiting for residents to collect their mail. Nearby, a wall was marked with mysterious blue spray-painted numbers, the meaning of which we would learn later. The homes here were so cramped that “narrow” hardly sufficed to describe them. Though the structures were barely worthy of the name “home,” they were warm shelters for the families living within. Several tightly shut doors bore wooden boards nailed by the Seoul Housing and Communities Corporation. These boards were not placed randomly; they marked vacant spaces left behind by residents who had fallen ill, improved their circumstances, or ultimately left the village. One board read, “7-15-1 Vacant, legal action will be taken for unauthorized entry or damage, 2026.5.5.” Above it, an official notice was taped: “This is a temporary structure closed due to the resident’s relocation. Unauthorized entry or damage will be subject to penalties under Article 319 (trespassing) and Article 366 (property damage) of the Criminal Code.” The juxtaposition of the handwritten warning and the dry bureaucratic language reflected the reality of this village. With each departure, another board was nailed up. From this point, the path narrowed to barely allow one person to pass, winding along as we encountered forgotten toys and items once cherished by children who no longer returned to retrieve them. Abandoned bicycles, half-buried toy cars, and faded small objects seemed to wait for someone. This alley had once been a route to school for those children. Now, those children likely attended different schools elsewhere. The true face of Guryong Village began to reveal itself at this juncture, where the stench of garbage mixed with humidity made it hard to breathe. Early on, we discovered a bathroom tucked away in a narrow passage. Behind a firmly shut wooden door was a makeshift toilet, crafted from a chair to provide some comfort. Without needing further explanation, this single item told us much about the basic facilities in a place not even marked on maps. Ahead, we spotted a gravel road wide enough for vehicles, and we pushed through knee-high grass, battling mosquitoes and insects to reach it. Following the road, we came across a tent that appeared to serve as a shelter for fire victims, and beyond it lay an area of over 3,300 square feet covered with blue tarps. This was the site of a fire that occurred in January, where a single room had housed residents for their entire lives. In an instant, the flames consumed everything they had built over the years. The tarp stood as evidence of that moment and the last remnants of their hard-fought lives. As we moved past the tarp, a charred house caught our attention. Through the collapsed walls, we saw books left behind, scorched appliances, and cassette tapes, all waiting for their owners who would never return. Disasters momentarily returned this village to the evening news, but once the world’s attention faded, the burned homes remained. Residents spoke calmly about the fires, acknowledging that the houses were too close together, the paths too narrow, and the materials too flammable for anyone to believe the next fire could be completely prevented. We continued through the underbrush and discovered a house surrounded by a fence, its roof covered with a mossy blanket. Traces of a life fiercely protected for so long remained intact. Among the piles of trash, we noticed coal briquettes saved for the winter, alongside ashes that had already turned green with moss. This was preparation for another winter. As we navigated through tiny spiders, swarms of mosquitoes, and other insects, we arrived at a scene that starkly illustrated the current state of Guryong Village. On one side, a landscape that seemed uninhabitable, and on the other, a luxury apartment complex valued at over 40 billion won. Leaving behind that jarring contrast, we headed toward District 1, where people first settled in 1988. Through broken windows, we glimpsed belongings left behind during hasty relocations, and a once-bustling beauty salon stood with its door barely intact. Throughout this area, banners appeared, evidence that residents were still fiercely fighting for what they believed were their rights. Uncertain of when or how development would occur, they continued to endure. Over the course of two or three days, the residents’ initial wariness began to ease as we repeatedly traversed the same paths and encountered familiar faces. Those who had once avoided eye contact began to greet us or engage in brief conversations. Thanks to this gradual rapport, we encountered a truck delivering goods to the village. It carried everything from daily necessities to shoes, clothes, fans, and even rat poison. One resident purchased rat poison, commenting that the newer versions were ineffective and requesting the older kind. Nearby, residents we had not seen before gathered to examine the truck’s contents. A small supermarket appeared, selling groceries, snacks, and beverages like any other store in the city. Inside, an elderly woman quietly welcomed us in the dimly lit shop. As evening fell, a different kind of chill settled in. A few streetlights barely illuminated the path, and in the distance, a building caught our eye: a shining cross. Almost entranced, we followed the light, forgetting the mosquitoes biting us. The contrast of wealth became even more pronounced at night: on one side, the dazzling lights of the Gangnam apartment complex, and on the other, Guryong Village, where only a few streetlights struggled against the darkness. The scene we witnessed on our way out differed from what we had seen during the day. Cars that had been invisible earlier were now parked in various spots, and sounds of televisions and radios emanated from houses that seemed on the verge of collapse. Uncertainty loomed over when development would begin or when another fire might strike. Yet, amid this unpredictability, the residents continued to stockpile coal briquettes, repair roofs, and purchase rat poison, enduring each day. This quiet yet persistent struggle is the most significant battle being waged in Guryong Village. 2026-07-15 11:08:00
The Story of Guryong Village: A Korean Dream in an Unlikely Place Yangjae-daero, a six-lane road running through Gangnam, appears to be just another busy thoroughfare transporting commuters to the area’s luxurious officetels and high-end apartment complexes. Thousands cross this road daily, yet few give it a second thought.However, few roads in South Korea starkly divide two contrasting economic realities as this one does.On one side stands an apartment complex where prices exceed 200 million won per 3.3 square meters. The value of these properties continues to soar amid a boom in artificial intelligence, which has propelled semiconductor companies to become some of the most valuable in the country, and is expected to drive South Korea's nominal economic growth rate to its highest level in 30 years.Crossing the road reveals another side of Seoul: Guryong Village. Once thought unlikely to survive into the 21st century, this last shantytown in Seoul offers more than just a view of poverty. What stands out most is a deeply ingrained, quintessentially Korean dream: the desire to change one’s life through education.While walking through the village, we encountered a resident in a blue tank top, slowly making his way through the area. Cheon Young-hwan, born in 1952, was the first district head of Guryong Village. Unlike others, he did not seem wary of us, and he shared stories from the village's early days to the present.The challenges he faced mirrored the issues we had sensed since entering the village. He recounted that when he first arrived, Guryong Village was essentially an administrative blind spot. People lived there, but their addresses did not officially exist, which became a significant problem when his two sons were young.Without a recognized address, he could not send his children to the public school he desired. Consequently, he approached a family in a nearby apartment, asking if he could use their address for his children’s education.“I pleaded with them,” he said. “I was not the only one in this situation.”This story could belong to any time or place.Later, while interviewing people who had never visited Guryong Village, we were surprised to find how common such stories were, merely differing by location.A teacher from Bundang, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods near Seoul, noted that the top-performing students were often the ones who missed the most school. They would meet the minimum attendance requirements mandated by law and spend the rest of their time at private academies, progressing faster than in public education.A mother sending her daughter to a prestigious private elementary school stated that the school's appeal was not its curriculum but the lifelong friendships formed there. Cheon Young-hwan had struggled to find a way to send his sons to public school, while other parents, despite their children already attending good schools, poured money into private education in search of better opportunities. Ultimately, they were all seeking different forms of the same effort for better education.Cheon Young-hwan led us through a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for us to bend down to pass.He pointed to a friend’s house, which had recently been vacated due to health issues.The wallpaper was stained with mold, not a new development but a long-standing condition. Yet, remnants of his friend's dedication to studying remained throughout the room.Books scattered on the floor, more piled on the desk, and materials taped to the walls were evidence of someone who had lived and studied with great intensity. Cheon Young-hwan explained that his friend had borrowed books from various homes in the village to continue his education. Even as he prepared to leave due to health issues, he had not put down his books.For him, learning was the only way to survive and continue working in this environment. Eventually, his health deteriorated, forcing him to leave the village.We were also allowed to enter the adjacent house, which had been vacated a bit earlier. This home still contained belongings left behind during the move, and a few dusty books were neatly arranged on a shelf. While not as desperate as the previous room, it too bore signs of someone who had not abandoned their studies.Throughout the village, we encountered similar traces. In one home, newspapers were piled high, evidence of someone who diligently kept up with current events every day. For the residents here, learning was not confined to the walls of a school; it was a persistent effort to connect with the world and survive.Days later, we returned to Cheon Young-hwan for a meal, hoping to learn more about life in Guryong Village. His refrigerator held an unfinished bottle of makgeolli and various side dishes, and during our meal, we occasionally forgot we were in Guryong Village. It felt like dining at a grandparent's home.Cheon Young-hwan now lived alone in the same house where his mother and grandmother once resided. Like him, many residents had initially sent their children to school outside the village, remaining in Guryong to work.His sons had grown up and long since left the village he still calls home. The same goes for his grandchildren. “They all left,” he said.“When it was time to go, I told them to go.”Families with students still living in Guryong Village are not much different. They spend time outside the village and only occasionally return.Those who remain do not view their lives as particularly difficult. What they regret most is not having pursued further education themselves and not being able to raise their children in a better environment. Perhaps that is why they have all sent their children away from the village.Understanding their own thirst for knowledge, they do not wish to pass that thirst onto their children.Their passion for learning came too late, and they are determined that their children should not have to walk the same path they did.This is the most earnest form of love these parents can offer.Nevertheless, they continue to hold onto their desire for learning, still igniting that passion. They borrow and return books from one another, continuing their education. This is not merely a hobby but a lifelong commitment to survive and keep working.After finishing our meal and continuing our conversation for some time, Cheon Young-hwan led us back outside, pointing to a spot along the path to his home.It was a place we had passed several times without noticing.Only then did we realize what it was: a rusted swing set standing alone.It had no meaning until someone mentioned that it once echoed with the laughter of children. That laughter had long since faded, precisely because it had been driven away in pursuit of better schools and futures. What remained was the quietly rusting swing and the overgrown grass surrounding it, a testament to how long this place had been empty. 2026-07-15 11:04:00
KOSPI makes modest recovery after sharp plunge, but KOSDAQ stays volatile SEOUL, July 14 (AJP) - South Korean stocks rebounded Tuesday after the previous session's steep selloff, although another sell-side sidecar on the junior KOSDAQ showed continued volatility in the local market. The benchmark KOSPI rose 49.90 points or 0.73 percent to close at 6,856.83. The modest gain followed another volatile session. The index opened 0.56 percent lower at 6,769.06, climbed to an intraday high of 6,979.92 and later fell to 6,448.86 before recovering into the close, a swing of more than 530 points. Foreign investors bought 952.3 billion won worth of shares, while institutions purchased 3.22 trillion won. Individuals sold 4.14 trillion won. Semiconductor heavyweights led the rebound. Samsung Electronics gained 3.34 percent to 263,000 won, while SK hynix rose 3.69 percent to 1,913,000 won. SK Square, the chipmaker's largest shareholder, added 2.50 percent. The gains came despite weakness in artificial intelligence (AI)-related semiconductor shares overseas. SK hynix's American depositary receipts (ADRs) fell more than 9 percent overnight in New York, while Japanese memory-chip maker Kioxia fell as much as 6 percent. Among other large-cap stocks, Hyundai Motor fell 4.39 percent, KB Financial dropped 3.33 percent, Samsung Life Insurance lost 2.76 percent, Samsung Biologics declined 2.29 percent and LG Energy Solution slipped 1.98 percent. Hyundai Pharm surged 29.84 percent to its daily limit after President Lee Jae Myung said during a Cabinet meeting that the government should consider allowing medication abortion. The company holds Korean distribution rights for a combination drug containing mifepristone and misoprostol that is awaiting regulatory approval. Shipping and energy-related shares also advanced as oil prices remained elevated amid renewed tensions surrounding the Strait of Hormuz. STX Green Logistics surged 29.92 percent to its daily limit, Heung-A Shipping gained 4.46 percent and Heunggu Oil rose 8.93 percent. The KOSDAQ, however, failed to join the rebound, falling 15.38 points, or 1.92 percent, to close at 783.98. The junior index briefly climbed above the 800 mark before falling to an intraday low of 749.76, its lowest level in more than a year. Foreign investors sold 247.2 billion won worth of KOSDAQ shares, while individuals and institutions bought 72.9 billion won and 158.7 billion won, respectively. The Korea Exchange activated a sell-side sidecar at around noon after the KOSDAQ 150 futures contract fell 6.08 percent and the KOSDAQ 150 index dropped 6.25 percent, exceeding regulatory thresholds for more than one minute. It was the 20th KOSDAQ sidecar this year, surpassing the previous annual record of 19 set during the 2008 global financial crisis. The intervention came a day after both a sell-side sidecar and a circuit breaker were triggered on the junior market. Among major KOSDAQ stocks, Alteogen tumbled 11.7 percent, while semiconductor equipment makers VM and PSK gained 19.0 percent and 10.2 percent, respectively. The won strengthened 0.43 percent to 1,493.10 per dollar. Oil prices remained elevated after U.S. President Donald Trump announced plans to reinstate maritime restrictions targeting Iranian shipping. West Texas Intermediate crude traded around $80 a barrel, while Brent crude hovered near US$85. Japan's Nikkei 225 gained 0.7 percent, China's Shanghai Composite rose 1.4 percent and Hong Kong's Hang Seng Index added 0.6 percent. Later this week, investors will turn their attention to U.S. June consumer price data and earnings from major U.S. banks including JPMorgan Chase, Goldman Sachs and Bank of America. 2026-07-14 17:24:11
TWICE's sold-out Seoul finale concludes yearlong world tour SEOUL, July 13 (AJP) - K-pop girl group TWICE wrapped up their sixth world tour with three sold-out concerts at KSPO Dome in southern Seoul over the weekend, JYP Entertainment said on Monday. The yearlong tour covered 81 shows across 44 locations around the world, marking one of the group's largest global concert tours so far. The "THIS IS FOR" tour began at Inspire Arena in Incheon in July 2025 before traveling across Asia, Oceania, North America and Europe. Along the way, TWICE became the first overseas act to hold a solo concert at Tokyo's National Stadium and the first K-pop girl group to perform at Hong Kong's Kai Tak Stadium. TWICE attracted about 550,000 fans across their North American shows, the largest audience for a North American tour by a K-pop girl group, according to JYP Entertainment, and about 640,000 fans across their Japanese shows. The Seoul finale used the same 360-degree stage setup featured throughout the tour, placing the main stage at the center of the arena and opening seating on all sides. The concerts featured a live band and a career-spanning set list that moved from recent songs including "THIS IS FOR," "OPTIONS" and "MARS" to earlier hits such as "Like OOH-AHH," "TT," "CHEER UP," "What Is Love?" and "YES or YES." The group also performed solo and unit stages, including the first Korean performances of "TAKEDOWN" by Chaeyoung, Jeongyeon and Jihyo and "Confetti" by Mina, Momo and Sana. The final concert on Sunday was streamed worldwide through Beyond LIVE. At the end of the show, the members thanked "ONCE," the group's official fandom, for supporting the tour and hinted that another tour would follow. "The long journey of the 'THIS IS FOR' tour has come to an end," the members said. "We were able to finish it safely because of ONCE. Thank you sincerely for your support and love." TWICE, which debuted in October 2015, will celebrate their 11th anniversary this fall. 2026-07-13 17:38:42