Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

This article is by Alicia Carr and read by an artificial voice.

During my time in Korea, I have encountered countless Buddhist temples, pausing to admire the architecture and absorb the serenity of what I knew was a sacred place. Yet, I had never really understood what I was seeing, let alone been given a behind the scenes glimpse into life within a temple.

Such is the case for many foreigners.

"It is a pity that they just pass through," Chae explained. "We want them to really experience Buddhism."

To better facilitate that, Bongeunsa Temple will launch their new "Bong-pass" temple stay program for foreigners in March. It will cost only 5,000 won ($3.40) and is designed for flexibility, particularly for tourists visiting the Bongeunsa Temple without a plan or a preexisting booking. The two-hour program, operating every Tuesday, will include the opportunity to tour the temple, experience a tea ceremony and take part in meditation — all of which I would be testing out.

As I arrived, I walked through a colorful gate adorned with traditional painting. There were some small shops and a cafe where visitors lingered at the entrance. It was busy, but peaceful.

Venturing further into the temple grounds, the shift in atmosphere was striking. Minutes earlier, I had been navigating the streets of Gangnam, surrounded by crowds, noise and constant motion. Bongeunsa, in stark contrast, offered a pocket of serenity within the chaos. And, to my surprise, you could barely hear the noises of the city just beyond the walls. I drifted through the courtyards in a near trance, until the sudden realization that I actually had somewhere to be pulled me back to reality.

After asking a friendly staff member at reception where I could find the temple stay programs, I was led to a charming hanok (traditional Korean house) near the back of the temple. I was greeted by Bongeunsa's temple stay manager, Chae, who took his shoes off and went inside, urging me to do the same.

It was at this point I became painfully aware of my poor footwear choice. Unlike in most Western cultures, removing your shoes before entering a building is standard practice, and the temple was no exception. Unfortunately for me, my Nike sneakers were laced tightly to my feet and entirely uncooperative. While Chae had slipped his shoes off with ease, I wrestled with mine in quiet defeat, as he watched on, awkwardly waiting for me. Let this be a lesson: If you plan on participating in a temple stay, please wear shoes that can be slipped on and off with ease.

We sat down inside and I was given some basic information about what to expect from the program. Chae spoke fluent English and explained that the team of majority foreigner volunteers running the program would be fluent as well.

There was a packed schedule of things to do, but also a degree of flexibility. Participants could take their time and do each activity on their own terms within the two-hour time frame. We decided to begin with the temple tour and headed back outside — where I was once again reminded of my unfortunate selection of footwear.

Once I wrestled my shoes back on, we started the tour right back where I had first entered at the temple gate. To the left sat the temple stay information center. It was a small office, not yet in operation, where tourists would eventually be able to purchase their Bong-passes.

Chae joked that the bags of rice that were left as offerings were then eaten by the staff. Only, it turned out he wasn't joking. I was a little stunned, but also amused.

We continued on to the largest building on the temple grounds, the main Buddha hall which is home to 3,300 Buddha statues. It was open to the public as a space for prayer, worship and reflection, but upon stepping inside I felt like an intruder, as though I had wandered into something not meant to be interrupted.

The room was dimly lit and washed in an orange glow as light reflected off of the hundreds of Buddha statues lining the walls. Near t...

This article is by Woo Ji-won and read by an artificial voice.

ULJIN, North Gyeongsang — Most coastal towns quiet down in winter. But in Uljin, on the eastern edge of North Gyeongsang and roughly halfway between Gangneung and Busan, the county is at its most charming when it's cold.

From emerald shallows near the shore to midnight blue waters further out, the sea shifts into a layered palette of blues. Winter is also the perfect time to catch snow crab, the county's signature specialty, at its meatiest.

Inland, a limestone cave formed 250 million years ago remains steady, offering quite a spectacle and warmth against the chill. The steamy hot spring in Onjeong-myeon feels especially inviting in the coldest months.

Even after one of Korea's most devastating wildfires tore through the county's 14,000 hectares (34,595 acres) of forest and destroyed 219 homes in 2022, the region did not lose its raw beauty.

With upgraded transportation, experiencing Uljin's quiet yet resonant charm has never been easier — especially with the county's signature Uljin Snow Crab and Red Snow Crab Festival returning on Feb. 27.

Snow crab reels one in with its claws

Uljin starts waking up around 8:30 a.m. at Jukbyeon Harbor — and much earlier for snow crab fishermen who have already been out at sea since the early morning hours. As soon as the temperature drops in December, they head 23 kilometers (14 miles) offshore, lowering traps more than 300 meters (984 feet) deep into the East Sea.

When the boats return, snow crabs — Uljin's representative catch — are spread across the auction floor, where a crowd of middlemen and store owners has already claimed their spots. Crew members sort out the crabs measuring less than nine centimeters (four inches), as only larger ones qualify as Uljin crab.

Middlemen scribble bids onto small wooden boards and discreetly present them to the auctioneer. The highest bid wins, and one knows the deal is done when the crabs are loaded back into carts. Without a break, the next batch is spread across the floor.

On this day, a 500-gram (18-ounce) snow crab sold for around 17,300 won ($12). A 1-kilogram red crab — often called honggae and known for its deeper red hue — went for about 38,000 won.

The crabs are the most plump and heavy with meat in February, when the weather is at its coldest. Owing to it, the mild, slightly sweet and clean-tasting flesh slips out intact easily with just a few tilts. Red crab has a stronger flavor, saltier and richer in umami.

These prized crabs will be celebrated at the Uljin Snow Crab and Red Snow Crab Festival, running from Feb. 27 to March 2 at the Wangdolcho Plaza in Hupo-myeon, with performances and activities centered on the county's defining dish.

But snow crab is just the opening act in Uljin's kitchen.

Sea from every angle

Few places make the sea feel as immersive as Uljin. The county offers countless ways to watch the water change hue as waves roll in at their own irregular rhythm.

For those who wish to feel the sea up close, yachts run by the Uljin County Yacht School provide an inviting opportunity. The one-hour sail, which costs 50,000 won per person, passes Deunggisan Skywalk before looping back. At sunset, the winter water turns molten as the sun casts a warm golden path across its surface.

Even below the surface, the sea can be enjoyed. At the National Ocean Science Museum's underwater observatory, a 393-meter marine passageway leads to a viewing point seven meters beneath the sea, where marine life drifts past without the need for a submarine. The circular structure allows observation of different species of fish through dozens of windows facing in all directions.

Then there is a place where one can experience both the beauty of the sea and the weight of the area's history.

At Wolsong Beach, the entrance begins along a quiet, pine-lined path. For much of the walk, it is hard to imagine that sand and open water lie just ahead. To one side, where the trees part, sits Wol...

This article is by Jang Gu-seul and read by an artificial voice.

Nearly eight out of every 10 applicants with criminal records were allowed to be buried at national cemeteries over the past five years, raising concerns that screening standards may be too lenient.

Data from the Ministry of Patriots and Veterans Affairs, released by Rep. Lee Yang-soo of the National Assembly's political affairs committee, shows that 8,039 of 10,079 applicants with prior convictions were cleared for burial between 2021 and 2025 — an approval rate of 79.8 percent.

Those laid to rest at national cemeteries included 1,408 people convicted of violent offenses, including assault, bodily injury and sex-related crimes. Another 2,131 were found guilty of fraud, theft, trespassing, embezzlement, bribery and other financial offenses.

More than 2,400 people buried had been convicted of traffic-related offenses and crimes of negligence resulting in death or injury, and 257 had been convicted of public order offenses, including obstruction of business or official duties and perjury. Violators of drug- and gambling-related laws accounted for 152 approvals.

More than 1,490 people with criminal records were cleared for burial at Daejeon National Cemetery, and 1,271 passed screening for interment at Seoul National Cemetery, the nation's highest-ranking resting place.

Under the Act on the Establishment and Management of National Cemeteries, the national cemetery burial eligibility review committee decides whether applicants meet the conditions for interment. The committee, which is composed of seven ex officio officials and 13 appointed civilian members, considers whether the burial of an individual convicted of a crime could undermine the dignity and honor of the cemeteries.

The Veterans Ministry said mitigating factors — such as whether a crime was committed out of economic hardship — may be taken into account and emphasized that the committee conducts objective and fair reviews with a focus on preserving the cemeteries' honor.

However, critics argue that the inclusion of individuals convicted of sex-related crimes and other offenses falls short of public expectations.

Rep. Lee said, "National cemeteries are sacred places that embody the noble spirit of those who devoted themselves to the country. There must be no negligence in selecting those eligible for burial," adding, "The review system should be reorganized in line with public sentiment and common sense."

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

This article is by Jang Gu-seul and read by an artificial voice.

Nearly eight out of every 10 applicants with criminal records were allowed to be buried at national cemeteries over the past five years, raising concerns that screening standards may be too lenient.

Data from the Ministry of Patriots and Veterans Affairs, released by Rep. Lee Yang-soo of the National Assembly's political affairs committee on Monday, shows that 8,039 of 10,079 applicants with prior criminal convictions were cleared for burial between 2021 and 2025 — an approval rate of 79.8 percent.

Those laid to rest at national cemeteries included 1,408 people convicted of violent offenses, including assault, bodily injury and sex-related crimes. Another 2,131 were found guilty of fraud, theft, trespassing, embezzlement, bribery and other financial offenses.

More than 2,400 people buried had been convicted of traffic-related offenses and crimes of negligence resulting in death or injury, and 257 had been convicted of public order offenses, including obstruction of business or official duties and perjury. Violators of drug- and gambling-related laws accounted for 152 approvals.

More than 1,490 people with criminal records were cleared for burial at Daejeon National Cemetery, and 1,271 passed screening for interment at Seoul National Cemetery, the nation's highest-ranking resting place.

Under the Act on the Establishment and Management of National Cemeteries, the national cemetery burial eligibility review committee decides whether applicants meet the conditions for interment. The committee, which is composed of seven ex officio officials and 13 appointed civilian members, considers whether the burial of an individual convicted of a crime could undermine the dignity and honor of the cemeteries.

The Veterans Ministry said mitigating factors — such as whether a crime was committed out of economic hardship — may be taken into account and emphasized that the committee conducts objective and fair reviews with a focus on preserving the cemeteries' honor.

However, critics argue that the inclusion of individuals convicted of sex-related crimes and other offenses falls short of public expectations.

Rep. Lee said, "National cemeteries are sacred places that embody the noble spirit of those who devoted themselves to the country. There must be no negligence in selecting those eligible for burial," adding, "The review system should be reorganized in line with public sentiment and common sense."

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

This article is by Jan Gu-seul and read by an artificial voice.

An appellate court handed a suspended prison sentence to a student who threw a snowball at a classmate, causing him to fall over a railing and suffer partial paralysis, according to sources in the judiciary on Monday.

The Seoul High Court overturned a lower court ruling that had fined the defendant 5 million won ($3,700) for negligent infliction of bodily injury.

The appellate court instead sentenced him to 10 months in prison, suspended for two years, after finding him guilty of the more serious charge of assault resulting in bodily injury.

Prosecutors said the defendant threw a compacted snowball at his classmate in February 2024 while the pair were at an elevated parking lot.

According to the investigation, the classmate tried to block the snowball with an umbrella and stepped backward, tripping over a railing and falling about three meters (10 feet). He suffered severe injuries and was left partially paralyzed, losing the ability to move both legs.

A trial court declined to convict the defendant of committing assault causing bodily injury, ruling that he threw the snowball as a prank and lacked intent to commit assault.

In its ruling, however, the appellate court said throwing a densely packed snowball constitutes an unlawful use of force and therefore qualifies as assault.

While the appellate court also recognized a causal link between the defendant's act and the victim's injuries, it said it was difficult to reach a conclusion based on whether the defendant could have foreseen the manner of his classmate's fall.

The presiding judge noted that the victim's injuries were serious and likely permanent and that the victim and his family have not forgiven the defendant.

Both prosecutors and the defendant have appealed the ruling to the Supreme Court.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

This article is by Jang Gu-seul and read by an artificial voice.

Three men have been arrested on charges of endangering the safety of minors by allegedly luring two teenage girls to a mountain under the guise of exploring an abandoned building, then leaving them stranded there.

Police in Dongducheon, Gyeonggi, said on Monday that the trio were apprehended on suspicion of violating the Child Welfare Act. The main suspect is a man in his 30s believed to be the ringleader, and his accomplices are in their 20s.

According to police, the suspects contacted two 14-year-old girls through an online chat platform in October last year and suggested they go "explore an abandoned building." The victims got into a car with the suspects in Ansan, Gyeonggi, and traveled north to Mount Soyosan.

After arriving at around 1 a.m., the group got out of the vehicle to walk toward a now-shuttered sexual health clinic that was built by the government after the 1950-53 Korean War to manage sex workers serving U.S. troops in the area. The building currently lies in ruin.

While pretending to accompany the girls, the three suspects allegedly fell back and ran away, leaving the teenagers behind in the dark.

Frightened, one of the girls called emergency services and told the operator, "I got into a stranger's car, and they're trying to leave me here."

Police initially investigated the case on suspicion of possible sexual crimes or kidnapping, but they found no evidence supporting those charges. The suspects were not YouTubers or streamers and did not film the victims.

The suspected ringleader, who runs a small business, is believed to have also met the two accomplices through an online chat platform. Under questioning, he told investigators he lured the girls to the mountain "because it was funny to see people panic and get flustered in the dark."

A police officer said the main suspect had committed two similar acts in the past, but no charges were filed in those cases because the victims were adults.

"Despite his claim that it was a prank, targeting minors with little social experience is itself a crime and could easily lead to a serious accident," the officer said.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.

This article is by Shim Seok-yong and read by an artificial voice.

Eight black jets streaked above Riyadh's convention center on Feb. 9, their white tails slicing through the blue sky as they flew in tight formation.

It was the opening act of the Republic of Korea Air Force's Black Eagles aerobatic team at the 2026 World Defense Show in Saudi Arabia — its first appearance at a Middle Eastern air show.

For 30 minutes, the T-50B trainer jets traced intricate patterns overhead, forming five-petaled shapes inspired by Korea's national flower to the strains of "Arirang" before plunging in a cascading rainfall maneuver that drew gasps from the crowd below.

As the spectacle continued, one man captured the performance with his camera from the sky.

Master Sgt. Wi In-tae was seated in the rear cockpit of aircraft No. 8. Armed with his Nikon Z8 camera, he captured the Black Eagles' formations as they rolled and dove around him.

Wi is one of just eight "aerial combat photographers," or specialists tasked with documenting the Air Force's history from inside the cockpit. To earn the position, he had to undergo the same adaptation training as fighter pilots do.

"Looking back, there hasn't been a single easy mission," Wi said in a recent interview with the JoongAng Ilbo. "The moments when I'm able to hold the camera and press the shutter are only possible because of the pilots, mechanics and my other comrades who quietly fulfill their roles behind the scenes."

Wi has served on the Air Force's aerial photography team since July 2019. Before that, he worked in public affairs at the 17th Fighter Wing. He applied for the position, he said, out of a simple desire to fly.

But realizing that dream proved to be harder than he expected.

"Some days, I felt nauseous by just boarding the aircraft," he said. "Other times, we were forced to wait around for days because of the weather, then jump straight into a mission."

Wi, who was too afraid as a child to ride roller coasters, said the greatest obstacle in his career was motion sickness. "At first, I was so nervous that I couldn't even eat before a mission," he recalled.

A rebuke from a colleague changed him.

"A senior photographer once told me, 'Are you going to make your junior colleague starve too? You have to adapt.' That woke me up," Wi said.

He said he finds that his dizziness and fear "disappear when [he] concentrates only on the viewfinder."

He noted with pride that each frame he captures "isn't just a record."

"It becomes part of the history of the Republic of Korea Air Force," he said. "That sense of responsibility keeps me steady."

Certain flights stand out in his memory, such as when he photographed the maiden flight of the KF-21, South Korea's next-generation fighter jet, in 2022. He had to capture the exact instant the aircraft accelerated down the runway and lifted into the air for the first time.

"It required meticulous coordination with the pilot and advice from senior team members," he said. "It was teamwork that made that shot possible."

He also remembers flying escort missions during the repatriation of the remains of 1950-53 Korean War soldiers in 2020 and the return of the remains of independence hero Gen. Hong Beom-do in 2021 — moments heavy with national significance. For such contributions, his team was recently recognized as one of the Air Force's distinguished units of the year.

However, not all missions are ceremonial.

In 2021, during Operation Miracle — the evacuation of Afghan nationals who had assisted South Korea after the U.S. withdrawal — Wi was in the cockpit as the aircraft approached Kabul airport.

"During landing, the 'lock-on' warning kept sounding," he said, referring to the alert indicating that a missile system had targeted the aircraft. "It meant we could actually be shot down. We had to land and take off again in the shortest amount of time possible. It was an urgent situation."

The risks, he said, are part of a life lived always at the ready. During joint ...

This article is by Kim Hong-jun and read by an artificial voice.

President Lee Jae Myung's offhand remark about scrapping commuter buses to so-called innovation cities — regional hubs intended to stimulate economic development outside of major urban areas — has ignited backlash among workers.

At his New Year's press conference on Jan. 21, the president said, "There is no real benefit to relocating public institutions if we provide workers with chartered buses to and from Seoul," arguing that the practice undermines efforts to decentralize the country.

Within days, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport issued guidance for public institutions on how to phase out commuter buses that ferry workers living in the Seoul metropolitan area to their offices.

However, the proposed shift has exposed long-simmering tensions between public employees and local businesses across the country's 10 innovation cities, which launched in 2003 under a national project to promote balanced regional development.

While one restaurant owner in Gangwon Innovation City expressed hope that the end of commuter buses would finally convince workers and their families to relocate to his locale, a junior official at a public institution was decidedly less enthusiastic. "It will turn commutes into a living hell for workers," they said.

Some public institution employees have told the JoongAng Ilbo that they plan to quit their jobs if commuter buses cease to exist.

Approximately 149 public institutions moved out of Seoul during the first round of relocations in 2019. But 47 of them still operate commuter buses, spending roughly 22 billion won ($16 million) annually to transport workers based not only in the capital but also in other major cities. The National Health Insurance Service, based in Wonju, Gangwon, runs roughly 1,460 trips per year and spent 1.27 billion won alone on commuter buses in 2024.

Supporters of abolishing the buses argue that taxpayer-funded institutions should not subsidize long-distance commutes. Critics counter that the government forced institutions to move to innovation cities before building adequate local living conditions.

Just 50.5 percent of workers moved to Chungbuk Innovation City in North Chungcheong, where 10 of 11 public institutions operate commuter buses — the lowest worker relocation rate among the 10 innovation cities. The city lies only 110 kilometers (68.35 miles) from Seoul, which makes commuting relatively feasible.

Similar patterns appear elsewhere. In Gyeongbuk Innovation City in Gimcheon, North Gyeongsang, only 51.3 percent of employees have relocated with their families. An assistant manager who commutes from Busan said, "There just isn't much here," referring to the lack of large hospitals and high schools.

On Friday afternoons, the cities typically empty out as workers head home to larger urban areas. In Gangwon Innovation City in Wonju, buses line up outside of public institutions as early as 5 p.m. to carry employees back to Seoul.

For shop owners, the exodus on weekends has been disheartening. "They said the buses would run for just two years," said Kim Mi-young, who has operated a noodle shop near Gangwon Innovation City for a decade. "How can business survive if everyone leaves for the weekend?" He noted that many restaurants and cafes close by midafternoon, rendering the area a ghost town.

Some merchants have petitioned authorities to abolish the buses, hoping for a rise in foot traffic. Even local bus terminal operators expect that passenger numbers could rise by 20 to 30 percent.

President Lee has also suggested scrapping in-house cafeterias at public institutions and instead provide meal allowances so employees spend money locally.

However, urban planning experts warn that such solutions may merely shift hardship elsewhere, as institutional cafeterias often employ local workers and source regional produce.

They also caution that forcing employees to relocate may raise commuting costs and s...

This article is by Kim Hyo-kyung, Ko Bong-jun and read by an artificial voice.

MILAN — As Cha Jun-hwan walked through the athletes' village in Milan, the weight he had been carrying for four years seemed, at last, to lift from his shoulders.

The figure skater had already lived through two Olympic cycles — from his teenage debut in Pyeongchang to a hard-earned return in Beijing — but he said that the road to the 2026 Milan-Cortina Winter Games felt like the longest yet.

"The Olympics have always been a dream of mine," Cha said in an interview with the JoongAng Ilbo at the Olympic Village in Milan on Sunday. "To stand here for a third time — I was just so happy."

Two days earlier, the men's free skate had unfolded with unexpected results. Skating first in the final group, Cha fell on his quadruple toe loop, the second jump of his program. So did the sport's dominant force, Ilia Malinin of the United States, as well as Malinin's closest rival, Japan's Yuma Kagiyama. The mistakes led to speculation that the surface of the ice was too soft.

But Cha did not dwell on it.

"I watched the last group from the side," he said. "Beyond their mistakes, every skater's performance was impressive. I could feel how much effort they had put in, just as I had." He acknowledged the ice "did feel a little soft" and skating on it "felt slightly more difficult than usual toward the second half."

Now that his competition is over, Cha has allowed himself to become a spectator — for now.

On Friday, he slipped into the stands to watch the races for the short track, cheering as Hwang Dae-heon captured silver in the men's 1,500 meters and as the women battled in the 3,000-meter relay. Much of figure skating's tension is solitary, internal and measured in edges and rotations. Short track, on the other hand, is explosive and kinetic, with the drama unfolding in elbows and inches.

"It's a completely different kind of tension," Cha said. "Watching such fierce competitions made me admire our athletes even more." Smiling, he added, "This is my third Olympics. I recognize most of the faces now. So I cheered even harder."

If Milan has revealed anything about Korea's delegation, it is the rise of youth. Teenagers have claimed more than half of the country's medals so far, with 18-year-old snowboarder Yoo Seung-eun winning bronze in big air, 18-year-old Choi Ga-on winning gold in the halfpipe and 19-year-old short track skater Lim Jong-eon earning bronze.

Watching the current generation succeed, Cha added, "brought back a lot of memories."

He was 17 when he first stepped onto the ice at the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics.

"I didn't win a medal," he said, "but I went with a dream."

Outside of competitive skating, Cha's life follows the discipline expected of an elite skater. Breakfast consists of fruit or cereal and milk. For lunch and dinner, he has small portions of rice, beef and vegetables, all with no heavy sauces. During these Games, he maintained the same regimen.

His favorite meal, he confessed with a laugh, was a lunch box provided by the Korean Sport and Olympic Committee — a rare chance to eat a little more rice.

Recently, Vogue Hong Kong named him the most handsome male athlete of the Winter Olympics. When told, Cha broke into a shy, almost embarrassed laugh. Asked to name another contender, he deflected, "There are so many good-looking athletes."

A figure skater's peak years are often said to lie in the late teens and early twenties. Cha will be 29 when the 2030 Winter Games take place in the French Alps. Some observers already speak of this as his "last dance."

He resisted this framing.

"I've said 'third Olympics' many times," he said. "But people keep calling it my last. That makes me feel a little disappointed."

He added that he has "just finished the Games" and "needs time to reset," but that he "doesn't want to define this as the end."

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generat...

This article is by Kim Hyo-kyung and read by an artificial voice.

MILAN — Four years ago, Kim Min-sun left the Olympic ice in Beijing in tears. On Sunday, she did not cry, but her disappointment was still palpable.

The speed skater finished 14th in the women's 500 meters at the 2026 Milan-Cortina Winter Olympics on Monday, posting a time of 38.01 seconds at the Milano Speed Skating Stadium.

Long regarded as the heir apparent to Lee Sang-hwa — Korea's legendary "queen of speed skating" — Kim shouldered heavy expectations during her third Olympic appearance. After placing seventh at the 2022 Beijing Games, she reached the podium repeatedly on the World Cup circuit and at the world championships in the years that followed.

But this season, she struggled to rediscover her best form, and the Olympics, once again, did not unfold as she had hoped.

"Looking back to the start of the season, I have regrets in every area," Kim said in an interview with the JoongAng Ilbo after the race. "Except during my best season in 2022-23, the opening 100 meters has always been my weakness, and it troubled me again this year. When that [performance] isn't strong, it affects the overall result in the 500 meters."

She did not attempt to mask her frustration.

"I wouldn't say that it feels refreshing and bittersweet. It's not refreshing at all," she said. "Ninety-nine percent of what I feel is disappointment."

She recalled that "there were so many difficult and frustrating moments preparing for this season."

"The Olympics are hard, even when you're prepared and 100 percent confident. I think those kinds of thoughts may have weighed on me even more as I got ready," she said.

However, she made it clear that this wasn't the end of her career.

"It's disappointing, but I have to accept it and start running again toward the next Olympics," she said.

Kim first competed on Olympic ice at age 19 at the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics. Now a three-time Olympian, she evaluated herself with unsparing honesty.

"I learned a lot from the previous two Olympics, and after Beijing, I achieved some good results," she said. "I pushed harder to improve, but I must have overlooked something. When my performance fell short, I kept thinking about what I missed in summer training. Maybe my ambition backfired."

Though the journey to the 2030 Winter Olympics in the French Alps will be long and demanding, Kim is looking forward to the next Games.

"It feels a bit strange to talk about four years from now right after this year's Olympics ended," she said. "But the four years since Beijing went by so quickly, and they were valuable to me. I'll prepare well over the next four years and become a better skater."

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.