K-Pop: Idols in Wonderland
"15-Year Slave Contract: They Said I Couldn't Consult a Lawyer"

[비즈한국] K-Pop has become South Korea's premier export. Yet, behind the glamour, the shadows run deep. Idols, the symbols of K-Pop, are scouted at a young age and endure grueling trainee periods. In the process, labor and human rights are frequently ignored. What happens to the countless trainees who never even make their debut? Through the 'K-Pop: Idols in Wonderland' series, BizHankook aims to highlight the problems that have been overlooked during the growth of K-Pop and examine potential alternatives from various angles. We believe that only when those who create K-Pop become healthy can those who enjoy it be truly happy.

Most idol trainees are minors. This is also true for those making their debut. Recently, the debut age has become even younger. To become an idol, one must essentially give up on formal education. It’s not just about attending high school or college; even mandatory education is difficult to complete. Because practice sessions often stretch late into the night, there is little time for "parenting" at home. This is why "parents" are mentioned time and again in conflicts between idols and their agencies. To their parents, idols are just "children."

What does the K-Pop industry look like to the parents of idols? We sat down with Son Il-rak, a professor emeritus at Cheongju University and father of Highlight (formerly Beast) member Son Dong-woon, to hear his story.

Agencies Offering 15-Year "Slave Contracts"

"Dong-woon was an exceptionally kind and diligent youngest child. Thanks to a father who valued etiquette, he never veered off course." Professor Son Il-rak recalled Dong-woon's younger days. "Everyone who saw him would say, 'He’s so pretty.' I heard that a lot." He was also very talented at singing. Many people, struck by his mature appearance, would hand him their business cards with a twinkle in their eyes.

Because his son possessed an abundance of "celebrity" qualities from an early age, it was the father who became busy. "There were people who would suddenly hand us contracts. While I felt good that he was being recognized, I was also worried. Even if it’s a field I’m unfamiliar with, legal matters are important, aren't they?"

Professor Son began to "study the entertainment industry." Utilizing his personal network to the fullest, he even sought out a lawyer specializing in entertainment. Back then, there was no such thing as a standard trainee contract. Dong-woon "passed" an audition for a company considered one of the largest agencies at the time.

"I received a massive contract, about 30 pages long. The contract period was basically 15 years. Of course, that was based on the time after his debut. It was a structure where, once you signed, you wouldn't be free until you were in your 40s. There were no standard terms. It was what people commonly call a 'slave contract.'"

Though he didn't know much about the entertainment industry, he wasn't naive about the world. Professor Son told the agency that he would bring a lawyer to review the contract. The company refused.

"Profit-sharing terms were also ambiguous. There was absolutely nothing considering the position of the artist or their family." Despite the opportunity to become a "trainee" at a prestigious agency, Professor Son let go of that chance.

Kind Dong-woon, Now Only Sleeping at School

Dong-woon joined a different agency—one that is now a major company known to everyone. "At the time, the agency hadn't been around long. Perhaps because of that, the contract wasn't very thorough. It only stated that they would provide 'training,' but all expenses were to be covered by the agency. There was no mention of settling those costs after his debut. In a way, they were very 'naive' as well. Of course, they did contact us later asking to revise the contract (laughs)."

At 14, Dong-woon became a "trainee." He performed 40 hours of training labor every week. Vocal training, dance, character education, foreign language lessons... Professor Son described Dong-woon's trainee days as "hard labor." He would go to school, then head to the practice room, and come home only to collapse in exhaustion.

"Practicing 40 hours a week was unimaginably hard labor. He received lessons in more than three types of dance alone. The mental pressure was also immense. School life was, naturally, difficult."

Middle school is mandatory education, but normal academic life was impossible. He would often go to school drained of energy and sleep with his head down on his desk. Naturally, his friendships suffered. The transition from curiosity to indifference was instantaneous. Friends no longer showed interest in Dong-woon, who was always exhausted and sleeping. He had no one to eat lunch with.

Professor Son would pick up Dong-woon every day after his practice. The time spent watching his child, who had finally fallen asleep after coming home in the early morning, was his happiest. Dong-woon definitely had talent and flair. He had always taught him to persevere and work hard at whatever he did, never giving up. There were heart-wrenching moments, but he couldn't show his son. One day, while taking off the socks of his son who had collapsed in sleep as usual, a fishy metallic smell hit his nose. His feet were covered in blood. That image remains vivid even today.

Trainees received "character" education, but the agency staff did not. There were many days when the children were educated through violence. "Dad, I'll endure it a hundred more times. No, a hundred times will pass quickly, so I'll endure it a thousand more times," young Dong-woon would say.

Going to the practice room without eating, practicing until late at night—the cycle repeated. A thousand times passed in the blink of an eye. He never got off work until dawn. After two years in an endless loop, Dong-woon gave up on "debuting."

"I was shocked after indirectly witnessing the absurdities of the industry. He told me, 'Dad, I don't want to be a celebrity anymore.' It was a situation too difficult for a minor to bear. Giving up on being a trainee was a huge shock to our family."

There weren't many paths Dong-woon could choose after quitting as a trainee. He had already traveled too far down a path different from his peers. "I judged that it would be difficult to start studying now and formally enter university. He had staked his future on being a singer, and if he gave up now, there was nothing he could do. Still, he started studying again."

Losing 'Beast'

Was he destined to be a celebrity? Dong-woon could not return to a normal daily life. Toward the end of his second year of high school, he joined an agency again. And in 2009, Dong-woon debuted as an idol in 'Beast.' Despite many twists and turns, Beast soon stood at the top. Every album was a 'hit.' Songs like 'On Rainy Days,' released in 2011, still appear on music charts today.

Beast, while maintaining their position as a top-tier idol group, eventually made the "decision to part ways" with their agency. It happened about seven years after their debut. "There were some complaints regarding the treatment of artists and settlement issues. There were also instances where they were compared to other agencies."

There was no practice of "agreeing" on settlements. It was not the artist's authority to decide where, how much, or how money was spent. They had never seen a receipt. "I believe that once an artist achieves a certain level of success, they should receive a 'success bonus.' Since the original contract continues even after success, complaints are bound to arise."

They had completed the seven-year exclusive contract, but leaving the company was not easy. It was even more so if they wanted to continue group activities. The members joined forces to establish an "independent company." The fans and members remained the same, but they could no longer use the name 'Beast.' A name is the identity of a group. The fandom also suffered a major blow. They were still Beast, yet they were not Beast.

"In fact, such disputes were rare at the time. I thought that, logically and legally, the ownership of a singer's name should belong to the singer. The results of our legal consultation were also positive, but we couldn't file a lawsuit. If we did, we wouldn't be able to work for that entire time. In the end, we had to give up the name."

At a time when the "Hallyu" (Korean Wave) was just starting to spread, losing their name was a "fatal blow." "We basically had to create a new name and debut all over again. Domestic fans knew the situation, but the overseas fandom almost collapsed. The damage was significant."

Professor Son says that magnanimous consideration is needed. "When the Beatles changed agencies, they didn't have to give up 'The Beatles,' did they? I have a desperate hope that in the future, when such problems arise, agencies will show consideration for the sake of the future of the Korean Wave from a broad perspective."

To Parents, They Are 'Children,' Not Idols

Professor Son Il-rak put the nagging he wanted to give his son into a book. "There were initial difficulties, but he was more successful than expected. As he grew, it became harder to see him. With so many schedules, he had no choice but to live in the dorms. There was no way to communicate with him. He started living a life where day and night were completely flipped. So, I started sharing what I wanted to say to my son on Cyworld."

The posts Professor Son left on Cyworld soon gained fame. Professor Son compiled them and published a book titled 'Cheer for Youth Obsessed with Dreams.' Behind it lies the sorrow of an idol parent who found it difficult to contact their child.

"My son! Dad is happy and thankful that you ultimately overcame countless hardships and became the singer you dreamed of. And I love you. Please, do your best to become number one in the future. But it doesn't matter if you don't become number one. The only thing that matters is how fiercely you live every hour, how sincerely you live, and how much you live with gratitude and love."

"Once you have chosen to live as a celebrity, though it won't be easy, you must pay attention to your words, actions, attitude, and image management with a bone-cutting determination, and you must manage your private life well." (From *Cheer for Youth Obsessed with Dreams*)

The life of an idol may look glamorous, but it is a lonely profession. Even now, my heart drops when I read the news and hear about the misfortunes of idols. Professor Son defined idols this way: "The life of an idol is extremely empty. They need warm attention. If you look behind the scenes, there are truly complex issues."

Having watched his son Dong-woon's struggles and achievements from the closest distance, Professor Son says that a policy-level approach is needed. "There are countless children living their lives from trainees to post-debut, but as far as policy is concerned, they don't exist. The school classes missed by trainees and idols due to activities are all just 'tolerated' by schools. Military service is the same. I'm not asking for 'military exemption.' The time they need to go to the military often overlaps with their active period. Then they have no choice but to postpone it through makeshift measures. Because 'popular singer activities' cannot defer military service. Most enter university just to postpone their military duty."

He also commented on the standard contract. "What's important isn't the distribution ratio. If revenues and expenses are not transparent, the distribution ratio is meaningless. Interest from related agencies is needed to ensure this part is transparent. Conditions must be created so that the contract review system and the contracts themselves can be made on equal footing. We must think about how the Korean Wave can achieve sustainable development. Currently, the government is turning a blind eye to these difficulties. As an idol's father, it's truly disappointing."

※ The next installment will feature an article on the ordinance for the protection of idol trainees.

<We await reports from those involved>

BizHankook plans to focus on reporting stories about K-Pop and idols.

If you have directly experienced trainee or idol life, or are an official working in the K-Pop industry, please send us a report. allhyeon@bizhankook.com

※ This project was supported by the Korea Press Foundation's fund, which was created using government advertising fees.