SYNOPSIS

Act I

In a modern high school classroom, students grow restless during history class. Seol Gongchan, dozing at his desk, insists history is meaningless in today’s world. Another student objects, and the teacher, sensing their apathy, instead begins a ghost story. Suddenly the classroom transforms into another realm. Gongchan lingers behind, and the teacher warns him: to truly hear the story, one must already be dead.

The tale begins in the Joseon dynasty with Chae Su, born in 1449. He witnesses the brutal reign of King Yeonsangun, who executes all blamed for his mother’s death. Though unsettled, Chae Su remains loyal. When Yeonsangun is eventually overthrown, King Jungjong offers him a court post, but Chae Su declines and returns to his hometown.

Meanwhile, misfortune strikes the Seol family. Seol Chung Su’s son, Seol Gongchim, is possessed by the ghost of his cousin Cho Hee, a woman who once dared to teach Hangul to commoners. Rebuked by her father Chung Ran and forced into marriage, she died young. To rescue Gongchim, they summon Seoksan, a renowned exorcist, who temporarily drives out the spirit. Yet Gongchan’s own restless soul soon seizes Gongchim again.

When Chae Su visits Chung Ran to console him, Chung Su arrives to seek his brother’s help in expelling the ghost. Together with Seoksan, they confront the haunting. But Gongchan refuses to leave, desperate to reveal the truth of the afterlife. Only Chae Su can see him, and Gongchan invites him to follow into the underworld.

Act II

In the underworld, the dead gathered to face judgment. The officials sensed that someone not yet dead had slipped among them. The elder brother, Yun Ho-yeon, had borne the duties of primogeniture imposed by parents and custom, while also enjoying its privileges. The younger brother, Yun Ho-jin, had always lived in his shadow. It was the younger whose time had run out, but the elder had followed the reaper in his place. The elder pleaded to remain in the underworld, saying that his brother had lived only a life of sacrifice. Yet the younger confessed that he had felt blessed to have such a brother. In the end, the elder was returned to the living, while the kindhearted younger remained in the underworld. This scene revealed to Chae Su the fairness of that realm.

The presiding officer here was none other than Cho Hee. Seeing that her brother Gongchan had brought a living man, Chae Su, she was alarmed and escorted him to Yama, the King of the Underworld. Upon reaching Yama’s throne, they witnessed the judgment of Aebak, condemned for betraying his king in pursuit of power.

Chae Su steps forward. As a living man, he promises to write of the underworld’s justice, which weighs only deeds, not wealth or status. Yama consents, returning Chae Su to earth to record the tale and sending Chung Ran back as well, not to his family, but to watch over Chae Su.

Chae Su completes The Tale of Seol Gongchan. But because it tells of the overthrow of a former king, the work is banned and burned. Disheartened, he hears Gongchan’s voice reminding him: even the smallest seed of truth will one day take root.

Back in the modern classroom, Seol Gongchan awakens, admitting that history is not empty but full of lessons that endure. The students sing of the need to reflect on the past and carry its wisdom forward.


REVIEW

Alongside modern works like K-pop Demon Hunters, this staging brings Korean folklore into modern-day settings, drawing on Seol Gongchan-jeon, one of the earliest Joseon-era novels later translated into Hangul. What could have remained a dusty historical text was instead reborn with rock music, schoolroom staging, and choreography that echoed K-pop idols — proof that even centuries-old stories can still spark with contemporary life.

When the lights dimmed and the show began, a sharp burst of drums and guitar launched a catchy rock opening. The set was a high school classroom with tables and chairs, later repurposed by the actors as steps and platforms.

The score leaned on a rock band with piano layered over, and the steady pulse of percussion driving from behind. The music struck a good balance — memorable but not overloaded with dense lyrics, repeated just enough to stick in the mind. Most of all, the cast sang impressively well.

Seol Gongchan himself was played by Song Yoo-taek, who embodied a convincing high school student with steady voice and energetic dance. His counterpart, Seol Gongchim, was performed by Ji Wonsun. The staging had Gongchim mirror Gongchan’s movements exactly, synchronized like an idol duo, even incorporating popping-inspired choreography. It was a clever touch that blended ghostly doubling with K-pop visuality.

Paek In Tae, playing the nearly sixty-year-old Chae Su, carried a voice that matched the character’s age. His spoken lines conveyed the same weight. As a classical tenor with a strong upper register, I wondered if the role’s baritone range would be a stretch, but Paek sang with stable breath control, even pitch, and a warm vibrato that avoided any sense of forcing his tone lower.

Cho Hee, played by Park Sun-young, gave a strong performance with expressive facial acting and a voice that combined clear high notes with a stable mid-range. Yeo Eun took on the role of Yama, appearing fully comfortable on stage and projecting a commanding presence.
Yoo Seulgi, as the teacher Seoksan and other roles, shifted playfully through variations that suited him. He too is a classical tenor, and together his and Paek’s voices provided a stable, resonant core for the production.

The chorus carried the dance sequences, filling the stage with energy while the band remained hidden. With the front row seated directly beneath the stage, the experience felt unusually up-close and intimate. Costuming, however, was less effective. It was a bit off in conveying Joseon-era style or a convincing modernized reinterpretation. Some outfits even resembled foreign designs, especially in the underworld scenes. When the Chinese officer Aebak appeared before Yama, I thought perhaps the underworld was meant to be borderless — but still, this is a Korean story, and the production would benefit from a more cohesive costume concept.

I attended with a friend who teaches high school history. She felt the opening section, which explains historical context and ghost scenes, dragged on too long. I thought it provided useful grounding, but I agreed it could be tightened. The scene where Gongchan haunts his cousin was stretched out. While it established Gongchim’s mean-spirited traits, it delayed the introduction of the underworld. Act I closed without a strong cliffhanger, leaving the impression that Gongchan’s only motivation was revenge for his and his sister’s deaths. Only later, deep into Act II, did it become clear that he wanted to spread word of how good the underworld is. The narrative would benefit from earlier clarity and more context.

There were flashes of wit, though. When Gongchan invited Chae Su to the underworld, he reached out an arm and asked in English, “Do you trust me?” Chae Su replied in confusion, “두유 틀, 뭐?” — a comic “Aladdin moment.”

The chorus sang well together, and since they also needed to dance with precision, their vocal performance felt more than sufficient. In brief solo lines, a few individual voices stood out, adding extra color. At the curtain call — this being only the second day of performances and the first appearance for some cast members — the actors introduced themselves and invited the audience to return. Song Yoo-taek, as Seol Gongchan, said that if the audience left humming the melody “돌아보련다 (I Will Recall),” it would be enough for him.

The scenes with Yama delivered a classic “good deeds pay off” message. This moral was repeated throughout, along with another refrain: “History is a reflection of the past, and a teacher for the future.” I found this too long and repetitive; my friend, however, felt it was essential. I can agree on its importance, but I wish it had been embedded more naturally into the action instead of repeated in lines. I never like being told directly how to live life. Do you?