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[WHY] In Korea, the elements control your fate — or at least your name. Oh, and don't forget your wallet.

Published: 13 Sep. 2025, 07:00 Updated: 22 Oct. 2025, 17:37

YOON SO-YEON
[email protected]

Celebrities who changed their names, from left: Singer Jeong Eun-ji, who changed her name from Jeong Hye-rim; Singer Joohoney of boy band Monsta X who changed his name from Lee Ji-hwan to Lee Ho-jun and eventually Lee Ju-heon; and actor Lee Si-young who changed her name from Lee Eun-rae [NEWS1]

Here’s advice for any non-Koreans looking to get themselves a cool Korean name: Don’t ask a friend, pay to get a really good one from a fortune-teller.

Take the case of singer Jeong Eun-jee of K-pop girl group Apink. She was called Jeong Hye-rim as a child. In 2011, she changed her name because she went to what’s called a cheolhakgwan, or "philosophy hall" — the equivalent of fortune-telling centers — where she was told that the name Hye-rim would bring good luck to her but not her mother. She changed her legal name to Eun-jee and has been going by that since.

The cases of singers Yoon Ji-sung, from project band Wanna One, and Joohoney, otherwise known as Jooheon, of boy band Monsta X are also famed among K-pop fans, with both changing their legal names after a series of unfortunate events such as a delayed debut and injuries that led them to naming centers, known as jakmyeongso in Korean, in hopes of turning their life around with a new name.

And here, “going” to a cheolhakgwan or a jakmyeongso means paying for their names to be made by a professional “namist” who boasts their expertise in either fortune-telling or phonetic spirituality.

In Korea, it’s common practice for people to pay to get their names made based on their saju — an astrological concept that literally means "the four pillars of destiny," which helps read a person’s fate by the year, month, day and hour of their birth — either when parents name their children or even when grown-ups try to change their own names.

Famous figures who changed their names, from left: Former first lady Kim Keon Hee changed her name from Kim Myung-shin; Choi Soon-sil changed her name twice, eventually to Choi Seo-won; and baseball player Son Ah-seop changed his name from Son Gwang-min. [JOINT PRESS CORPS, YONHAP, JOONGANG ILBO]

Examples abound, even among celebrities politicians: Former first lady Kim Keon Hee, for example, used to be called Kim Myung-shin, baseball player Son Ah-seop used to be called Son Gwang-min, Independence fighter Ahn Jung-geun (1879-1910) was called Ahn Eung-chil as a child, actor Lee Si-young changed her name from Lee Eun-rae and Choi Soon-sil, the notorious confidante of former President Park Geun-hye who was jailed for political meddling, has actually changed her name twice — from Choi Pil-nyeo to Choi Soon-sil, then to Choi Seo-won while in prison — and so on.

In a mash-up of tradition, linguistics and modern culture, the act of paying for a name embodies a complicated development in the Korean lifestyle that has now even been infused with a teaspoon of globalization, with people paying to get a name that’s good for their fortune and sounds pretty but is also easy for other language speakers to pronounce. It may sound like a warm, cool, modern and traditional oxymoron, but apparently it’s popular enough that people pay a good $300 to $500 to get it done.

How is it done?

The process starts by visiting a cheolhakgwan or a jakmyeongso. The former offers fortune-reading and life-designing services based on people’s saju — offering them good dates to get married or give birth to children, picking out good places to bury family members or giving people advice on whether a workplace is a good fit or not — while the latter specializes specifically in changing or making names for people.

Foreigners try getting a Korean name based on saju during the Seoul Festa 2023 event on April 30, 2023. [YONHAP]

A fortune-teller welcomes visitors at a saju (fortune-reading) booth in Jongno, central Seoul, on Jan. 10, 2008. [JOONGANG ILBO]

At such institutions, the visitor starts by telling the professional the year, date and time of birth — which determine one's saju — as well as their current name and the objective behind changing it, because the outcome can vary depending on the reason.

The essence of saju is that one's personality and course in life is influenced by the five elements of nature — wood, fire, earth, metal and water — depending on their saju. The calculation and results all utilize Chinese characters, and the namist recommends new names with Chinese characters that both sound good to the ear while also carrying the missing element.

“I changed my name because my mother is a firm believer in saju and she was told that I lack water in my saju and the fortune-teller told her that my life would turn out better if I had more water in it,” said 30-year-old Ahn Hyeong-jun, who used to be called Hyeong-jin. “I don’t necessarily believe in saju, but my mother does and I wanted to put her at ease, so I got it changed when I was 24."

Another quite common route is a religious way: to get a name recommended by a religious leader like a Buddhist monk or a church priest, or taking a name from the Bible. Buddhist monks, whose study materials are written in Chinese characters, usually make Korean-sounding names, while Christian-influenced names tend to be Western — like the singer Kang Daniel, who changed his first name from Eui-geon to his baptismal name, Daniel.

These religious leaders do not demand money and instead call it a gift, but voluntary payment is still sometimes made “out of gratitude.”

“Older people tend to believe that if they don’t pay for the name, then good energy won’t stick to it,” said a 38-year-old surnamed Yang, who has two sons. “My children’s names were picked by a monk that my mother-in-law knew from before. I know that the monk would have done it out of the goodness of his heart, but my mother-in-law still gave him ‘the envelope.’”

Online websites for jakmyeongso (name making service) or cheolhakgwan (philosophy hall) when searched on Korean portal service Naver [SCREEN CAPTURE]

The price range of getting a name made by a professional fortune reader in Korea, as displayed on a website [SCREEN CAPTURE]

How much does it usually cost?

Prices differ according to the institution, but the average is between 300,000 won and 500,000 won ($220 and $360). The specific cost depends on whether it’s for a child or an adult, as well as whether it takes place online, offline or via phone call. A face-to-face meeting usually costs more because people get to ask a few more questions related to their saju.

One interesting fact is that taemyeong, or a name for the unborn, typically costs more because it "takes more brainpower" to tell their fortune, as, by the definition of saju, they don’t yet have saju.

“For an unborn baby, we usually base our interpretations on the taemong that either the parents of grandparents have,” said Kim Man-tae, a professional saju reader and a former lecturer at the Dongbang Culture University.

Taemong refers to a pregnancy or conception dream that is said to foretell the birth of a child. It is usually dreamed most by close blood relations of the baby, but sometimes unrelated close friends of the parents also have such dreams. Common examples include eating a ripe piece of fruit or meeting an animal, and people in the past used to believe that they could tell the sex of a baby depending on the contents of the taemong.

Fortune-reading booths, otherwise known as saju in Korean, installed in the streets of Jongno, central Seoul [JOONGANG ILBO]

“We interpret the taemong and add it with the wishes the parents have for the baby, then look for the characters that fit well with such aspects,” Kim continued. “So for the babies, it’s more like interpreting and embodying the dreams of the parents, rather than the fortunes of the child.”

(In a sidenote, contemporary couples usually come up with taemyeong for their babies instead of going to a namist. Popular examples include: Teun-teun, meaning “healthy," Ggo-mul, meaning “wiggly,” and Bok-deong, meaning “blessing.”)

Has this long been a tradition?

Getting a name made by someone else? Yes. But paying to get a name made? No.

In fact, two syllables in Korea’s most prevalent three-syllable name format were traditionally already decided before birth, and there was only one syllable that parents could decide. The first syllable is the family name, and one of the two given-name syllables is decided on by ancestors to maintain generational lineage, with the syllable in question alternating between generations.

So in a completely fictional example, a Kim family’s 11th generation could have names starting with “Dae,” and the 12th generation will have names ending with “Jun.” Then, an 11th-generation baby could have the name Kim Dae-min and the 12th generation could be called Kim Min-jun if they both decide to use the same Chinese character.

During the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910), names were commonly decided by the grandparents. This tradition lived on in a slightly modified method in the 20th century, with parents deciding on the sound of the name and grandparents finding a suitable Chinese character with a good meaning to match the desired sound.

And for taemyeong, babies were intentionally given ugly names so that ghosts won’t envy them and take their lives. Popular examples were Gae-ddong, meaning “dog poo."

The saju (an astrological concept that literally means ″the four pillars of destiny,″ which helps read a person’s fate by the year, month, day and hour of their birth) book, written in Chinese characters [JOONGANG ILBO]

“It was after the Japanese imperial rule [1910-1945] that the Korean people really began to take an interest in the power of names,” explained saju reader Kim, referring to a historical incident referred to as “Changssi gaemyeong.”

During the 1940s, Koreans were forced to change their Korean names to Japanese names. People were not punished for keeping their names, but policies were set in place that made it impossible not to change, such as not allowing a child with a Korean name to attend school, or refusing to give medical care or food rations to people with Korean names.

The measures were revoked in 1946 after the end of World War II and the people were given back their Korean names.

“It was during this time that people began feeling the importance of names and wanted to get a good name whilst they were getting their old ones back,” said Kim.

So then how powerful is it?

There will never be a method to quantify this effect, but those who are satisfied with the service report positive results. (Obviously?)

The baseball player Son, for example, saw his batting average soar from a dismal 0.147 during the two years he played as Son Gwang-min in 2007 and 2008 to 0.332 after he changed to Son Ah-seop in 2009. Rumor has it that he changed his name after his mother went to a naming office in Busan that tailor-designed a name that would “bring him success as a baseball player and keep him away from injuries.”

A couple tries Nowon District's free name-making service for newborn babies. [JOONGANG ILBO]

“Six years ago, I got into a serious hit-and-run traffic accident,” said a 32-year-old woman who wished to be referred to as Ari Baek. “I was told I should change my name, but I ignored it. Then I was hit again by another car that just struck me while I was walking along the sidewalk. That was when I decided to get it done. It’s been two years since and things have been turning out for the better, like getting grants for my startup.”

People who usually decide to get their names professionally redone likely had their parents pick their names without such saju consultations, doing so to make unique and trendy names instead of meaningful ones, according to saju reader Park Jae-bum. Park recently had a client in their 60s named Choi Juk-ja. The name’s meaning in Chinese characters is “Bamboo child,” but in Korean, "juk-ja" means “let’s die.”

"Popular names don’t come from professional places,” Park said. “Those are usually given by the parents, but then a lot of them come to us later on in their lives if they feel like their names are too hard to pronounce or carry negative meanings. These days, people also like to change their names so that it’s easily pronounced in English or just similar to an English name altogether.”

Changing a name legally is quite easy, and “doesn’t fit my saju” is an actual reason that the government accepts. Apps and websites even offer cheaper and quicker alternatives to in-person visits to a fortune-teller’s office. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t come without a hassle; in fact, it’s an administrative hellhole, from IDs to bank accounts and passports.

“The paperwork that came after was so annoying that sometimes I regretted changing my name,” said a 32-year-old woman who changed her name five years ago, who wished to remain anonymous. “I love my new name because I had never really liked my old name, so I don’t really regret it. But there are always people from my childhood who refuse to call me by my new name and they still continue to annoy me.”

The reporter's saju reading asked to ChatGPT [SCREEN CAPTURE]

Asking ChatCPT to recommend the reporter Korean names based on the reporter's saju [SCREEN CAPTURE]

Footnote: This reporter was born on the day of fire and lacks wood, so to bring better luck into my life, I would have to raise plants at home, wear more green or eat more vegetables. ChatGPT and other generative AI have data of saju, so a mock saju reading and naming session can be tried at home, even for foreigners. Just type in the day, month and year of your birthday (and make sure to clarify it's by the solar calendar) and the time if you know when it is.

BY YOON SO-YEON [[email protected]]