The Proper Attitude Toward Nepo Baby Celebrities
"Nepo baby" — a portmanteau of nepotism and baby — is a newly coined term for children who leverage their parents' power, fame, and capital to achieve success with ease. The phrase is most often found in the entertainment and fashion industries, and in Korea it is frequently used interchangeably with the word "golden spoon." And just days ago, at the production press conference for the drama You and My Space, actor Yoo Seul-ho finally broke his silence on the nepo baby controversy.
The reason nepo babies draw such bile is not merely the unfairness of opportunity or the undeserved advantages they enjoy. It is that they behave as though they climbed to their position entirely on their own merit. Worse still, they often lack the talent and skill that the position demands — and that is what sends people into a frenzy. For those without parental backing — golden spoons, in other words — the most tragic part is that no amount of extra effort can ever put them on the same footing. Korea's most emblematic nepo baby celebrity is, of course, Yoo Seul-ho.
Ever since his debut, Yoo Seul-ho has been dogged by criticism of his acting. Mocking comments and parody videos flooded the internet, and there were even campaigns calling for boycotts of anything he appeared in. And yet, PDs and directors kept casting him anyway. He was given characters who were useless to the story but reliably present on screen, and despite the whole world pinning the derogatory nickname Useless on him, he carried on his career with unbending shamelessness. One netizen quipped that "that gall is his one and only talent."
I found myself wondering whether such merciless abuse wasn't cruel beyond what one person deserves — but the acting Yoo Seul-ho had shown us was, frankly, exactly that wretched. They say there's no right answer in acting, yet what he delivered over the years made viewers tilt their heads and regularly shattered any immersion in a production. It was that same man who spoke with more honesty than anyone, refusing to dodge the controversy and laying his heart bare. And it landed. It truly landed.
What he showed at the press conference radiated sincerity, and it was more than enough to begin melting hearts that had hardened into malice and contempt. Some say: if only Yoo Seul-ho had been treated with this much generosity all along — or if we extended it to social issues in general — we would all be happier. And there's some truth to that, because what he offered was nothing more than heartfelt words. Yet here we are, so easily swayed by a single utterance from a man of power, actually apologizing for the "prejudice" we've carried all this time.
Whether Yoo Seul-ho's newfound resolve is genuine remains unknowable until the drama airs. Whether he truly shows up as a changed man, or whether it all dissolves into the same old hot air, nobody can say yet. And do we really need to watch to find out? Honestly, no. Not watching, and going on hurling abuse as we always have, would be the easier choice.
We owe nepo baby celebrities nothing. But it may be worth examining our own contradictions, too. We scream at them to prove themselves through skill — while simultaneously refusing to give them even the chance to prove it. If we mean to condemn the world's unfairness, we ought to take a hard look at our own unfair attitudes as well. It is a very hard thing to do, but it is choices like these, multiplied, that build a mature society.
Whether he lives up to our expectations — I believe we can at least grant him the chance to be judged after watching the first episode. After all, Yoo Seul-ho is the first person to ever call himself a "nepo baby celebrity." For the first time, he has shown us himself without a single lie. Can he shed the nepo baby label and be reborn as a true actor? The historic moment begins at 9 p.m. on the night of the premiere.
Everyone, everywhere, was talking about me.
And astonishingly, most of the reactions were favorable.
"Hey, this is insane! Our company's stock is going up because of you!"
Manager Hyun Jin-gae — the same man who, back when I held that microphone, had looked ready to drag me off the stage on the spot — now wore a grin stretched from ear to ear at the overnight reversal of public opinion.
"I went into the office yesterday and the director called you his lucky charm! But he says if the drama flops, everyone's tune will change again, so we need a plan ready before then. Don't worry, I told him. Oh, and he said you're a seriously good actor. Haha!"
Having had his fill of pointless laughter, Hyun Jin-gae went straight into venting about Director Shin.
"That bastard Shin, you'd think he'd be happy his own agency's actor is doing well, but he keeps throwing shade? Honestly, of all the lunatics out there, he's the craziest one. He had the nerve to say he's the lucky charm for casting you in the first place. I nearly died holding back my laughter."
"Hyung."
"Huh? What! You think it's ridiculous too, right?"
"You're being loud. Please shut up."
"Wh—…."
He clamped his mouth shut mid-syllable and stomped out of the room with a wounded pout.
Regardless, I turned my attention to the laptop I had pried out of him — or rather, borrowed briefly.
The shift in public opinion about Yoo Seul-ho is a good thing.
But it wasn't what demanded my attention right now.
People's opinions of Yoo Seul-ho could flip at any moment. That was simply how you had to live — when they said they liked you, you shrugged and accepted it; when they said they hated you, you shrugged and let that go too. What strangers thought of me was entirely outside my control. React to every last one of them, and no career as an entertainer would last long.
What matters more is why the reporters suddenly changed.
The first reporter to question me that day — his name had been Kim Dong-woo, I remembered. I'd memorized the names and outlets of every reporter who asked me a question yesterday, Kim Dong-woo included. Then I searched each name on the major portals one by one and read every article they'd published in the past two years.
And there it was: every single one of them had written nothing but glowing coverage of Yoo Seul-ho's parents — Yoo Tae-ho and Lee Seul-myeong.
Just as I thought.
The moment a single conclusion began to crystallize in my head, my phone buzzed.
Not many people had this number. I checked the screen with a fair guess as to who it was, and sure enough, it was exactly who I expected.
A hollow laugh escaped me the instant I read the messages from my "mother."
This was definitive proof of what I'd suspected: behind the reporters' sudden about-face stood the handiwork of Yoo Seul-ho's parents.
They really do have every trick in the book.
At the same time, I could sense how truly cornered they were. If the world was going to tear Yoo Seul-ho apart for coasting on his parents' connections, then the parents who bankrolled that ride could hardly escape the flames themselves. They had no hesitation about taking a course of action that would wound even them — which was, in its own way, impressive.
They need a puppet son this badly, no matter what it takes.
What stood out most was their ruthlessness when it came to their son's market value, even if it took scratches in the process.
If they can't have it, they'll shatter it — even if it belongs to their own flesh and blood?
Because that flesh and blood happened to be their son.
I'd decided not to respond until the report came back from the private investigation agency, so I swallowed the message without a reply.
I can't ignore them forever, though.
Even this much had already taught me that Yoo Seul-ho's career was still dangling from his parents' strings. Moving agencies hadn't solved a thing.
So much to do.
There was a mountain of work between me and freedom from their machinations. I had to raise Yoo Seul-ho's reputation as fast as possible, and build an entertainment network that was mine and mine alone. And in the end—
I have to stand somewhere above Yoo Seul-ho's parents.
Okay.
With the goal locked in, deciding what came next was easy.
Tomorrow, I'm scheduled for a You*Tube variety appearance.
Only a week remained until episode one aired. Between now and then, we had to shoot promotional variety content and film the next episode of the drama. Sure, you could ask why a show with nothing but a short outline needed a variety shoot at all — but we couldn't exactly skip promotion, either. Only a steady stream of promotional content right after the premiere, when interest would be at its peak, could keep that interest alive.
According to Hyun Jin-gae, the variety teams can't stand Yoo Seul-ho.
Hyun Jin-gae had passed along, word for word, what one variety PD supposedly said about him: "Yoo Seul-ho just grins like an idiot. No wit, no chemistry with the other actors — honestly, the show's better off without him."
Lucky I'm not the old Yoo Seul-ho, then.
Hyun Jin-gae wasn't quite as rotten a person as I'd expected — but neither did he have any real talent as a manager. Thinking about how badly Yoo Seul-ho must have withered beside a manager who lobbed hurtful words around without a second thought, honestly, I couldn't bring myself to like the man.
Well. Whatever.
With variety PDs disliking Yoo Seul-ho, and the Useless label taking hold around the same time, his variety appearances had grown rare. Normally, a supporting actor like me would never be invited to a promotional variety show at all. And yet my schedule this time included one, firmly confirmed. There was a reason for that.
"Actor Seul-ho, I'm begging you…"
"PD-nim, please don't get down on your knees in the middle of the street."
"You're honestly the only person I can trust anymore."
Because PD Jang had begged me with the desperation of a drowning man.
"If I send Woo Jun-seo and Choi Ran out there on their own, our drama is doomed…"
For a romance drama's two leads, the real-life chemistry between Woo Jun-seo and Choi Ran was, unbelievably, catastrophic. Let them appear alone on a variety show, and it was obvious the poison would seep into their on-screen chemistry too — which was why PD Jang had shoved me into the variety schedule for dear life.
As for me, I had no reason to refuse. He was even paying a separate appearance fee. Why not?
I was just starting my research on the variety show we'd be filming the next day when my phone buzzed again. This time it was PD Jang.
"Hello?"
"Actor Seul-ho — are you sure you're all right with tomorrow's variety shoot?"
"Sorry?"
"If you don't want to go, just say so. I'll clean up the fallout somehow."
The man who'd practically groveled last month asking me to join was suddenly playing guardian. When I asked what brought this on, the answer came back: wouldn't it be a problem if I got hit with sly, provocative questions like the ones at the press conference?
Does this man think I'm five years old?
Bemused by the way he treated me like a small child, I told him not to worry and hung up.
And then it was the next day — the day of the variety shoot.
The filming location was a jjimjilbang, a Korean bathhouse sauna.
"Hello, everyone! Looking forward to working with you today."
I'd just stepped out of the car and was firing off brisk greetings to the staff when someone barreled into me at full speed.
"Seul-ho!!!!!
"…!"