As the global popularity of K-pop continues to surge, South Korea has increasingly become a magnet for young people from across the world who hope to carve out a career in the highly competitive music industry. Each year, hundreds travel to Seoul to enrol in private training programmes that promise professional coaching, auditions and a possible route to fame. However, accounts from several foreign trainees suggest that behind the glossy image of opportunity lies an under-regulated sector where expectations often clash sharply with reality.
One such trainee, Miyu, whose name has been changed to protect her identity, arrived in South Korea in 2024 with aspirations of becoming a K-pop idol. Still a teenager, she paid nearly 3 million yen to join a six-month programme at a K-pop training academy in Seoul. The programme promised dance and vocal training along with regular auditions for major entertainment agencies. Instead, Miyu alleges that lessons were irregular, promised auditions did not take place, and her experience was marred by repeated instances of inappropriate behaviour by a senior staff member.
Speaking to the media in Hongdae, a neighbourhood known for its vibrant music culture, Miyu said the reality of the programme fell far short of what had been advertised. She claimed that auditions, which were meant to be held weekly, never materialised. She also alleged that a senior employee closely monitored her movements and subjected her to repeated sexual harassment, including inappropriate physical contact and comments. The company in question has denied all allegations, and has not been named for legal reasons.
Two other former trainees from the same academy shared similar concerns. One also alleged sexual harassment by the same staff member, while another said she witnessed inappropriate behaviour towards others. All three said the programme largely catered to foreign students and did not include Korean trainees. The academy denied failing to provide audition opportunities, stating that nearly 200 foreign trainees had enrolled in its programmes since it opened in the late 2010s.
The allegations have drawn attention to regulatory gaps within South Korea’s entertainment training industry. K-pop training institutes are generally registered either as private academies, known as hagwons, which fall under the education department, or as entertainment agencies overseen by the Ministry of Culture. The academy attended by Miyu is registered as an entertainment agency, placing it outside the scope of education laws. According to officials, training programmes run by such agencies are not subject to routine regulation or inspection, making oversight difficult.
Despite the risks, the dream of success continues to attract young hopefuls inspired by global K-pop stars such as Blackpink’s Lisa, who moved to Korea as a teenager before rising to international fame. Today, many successful K-pop groups feature foreign members, reflecting the industry’s global reach. Yet industry data suggests the odds of success are slim. Reports indicate that it typically takes two years for a trainee to debut, and even then, only around 60% make it. For foreign trainees, language barriers, visa restrictions and limited industry connections further reduce their chances.
Recent figures also show a decline in overall trainee numbers, with agencies reporting fewer than 1,000 trainees in 2024, nearly half the number recorded in 2020. Although the number of foreign trainees has increased slightly, they still represent a small fraction of the total.
For Miyu, the experience has left lasting emotional scars. What began as the pursuit of a lifelong dream, she said, now triggers memories of trauma. Her story, and those of others, underscores the need for closer scrutiny of an industry that continues to draw vulnerable young people from around the world with promises that may not always be fulfilled.
