Misaeng K-Drama Review: The People Who Stayed with Me

Hi, it’s Min. Misaeng is the webtoon that has stayed with me the longest, so its television adaptation was one I was particularly looking forward to.

This review is about the 2014 Korean drama, Misaeng: Incomplete Life. The comic is still the version closest to me, but the drama gave me its own reasons to care about these people.

Spoiler level: The office premise and broad character dynamics. No later employment outcomes, character departures, or ending details.

Content note: Workplace bullying, gender discrimination, and sexual harassment.

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My Short Verdict

I enjoyed Misaeng, though “it made me stop and think” describes my response better than “it was entertaining.”

If you’re waiting for big laughs or a succession of twists, its pace may feel quiet. For me, an episode would end and I’d get a glass of water, look out of the window, and eventually find myself starting the next one. There was something comfortable about that rhythm.

The comfort came from spending time with people I cared about. What they went through could still be tiring to watch. Those two feelings sat together for me throughout the drama.

The People Who Stayed with Me

Jang Geu-rae: the effort between one day and the next

After years devoted to preparing for professional baduk, or Go, Geu-rae enters the company as an intern. The official Netflix introduction gives that starting point; what stayed with me was how he tried to live through it.

He admits what he doesn’t know and tries to fill the gaps. I liked the small repetition of that effort. His determination came through in ordinary attempts to understand something a little better.

He’s quiet, so there are moments when his expression seems to be doing the work of holding him together. Watching those eyes, I sometimes wanted to ask whether he’d eaten. I wasn’t only wondering whether he would do a good job; I was worrying about how he was getting through the day.

Oh Sang-sik: care that doesn’t sound gentle

Sang-sik can be rough in the way he speaks. What mattered to me was how he stepped forward when someone junior was in difficulty.

His blunt remarks about the harshness of working life stayed with me. They weren’t gentle reassurance, but I found an unexpected kind of comfort in them. His care was easier to recognize in what he did than in how softly he spoke.

That felt familiar to me: a senior colleague who doesn’t make a warm speech, but puts themselves between a junior and a difficult situation. It was one of the things that made me want to stay with this team.

Ahn Yeong-yi: the cost of having to prove yourself

I kept sighing at the way Yeong-yi could do the work well and still be judged by another standard.

I admired her attempts to answer through her work. At the same time, I wondered how exhausting it must be to keep proving something that should already be visible. Her competence made me proud of her, while the pressure around it made me sad.

Jang Baek-gi: when confidence meets its limits

I found Baek-gi a little irritating at first. His credentials and pride made him seem very sure of where he belonged.

My reaction changed when I watched his expression as he came up against what he couldn’t yet do. That was where the performance reached me. I began to see the discomfort behind the confidence, and my feelings toward him softened.

Kim Dong-sik: the person keeping the team moving

Dong-sik made me pay attention to a different kind of fatigue.

He isn’t always the person who draws your eye first, but I kept noticing the work involved in keeping the team functioning. Watching someone in that middle position, between the people above and the people still learning, stayed with me longer than I expected.

An Office I Recognized on Screen

Choosing lunch, watching the hierarchy around an after-work meal, calculating when to leave for the last train: small details made me think, “I know that feeling.”

I didn’t need every detail explained to recognize that atmosphere. These were associations I brought from my own experience of Korean working life. The drama is from 2014; I wouldn’t treat its office as a picture of every Korean company today.

The title became more meaningful as I watched, too. Misaeng is a baduk term for stones whose life isn’t yet secure. The publisher’s introduction carried by the Korean Baduk Association explains that meaning in relation to the original comic.

On screen, I kept connecting it to people who were still trying to find a place for themselves. It gave the ordinary work of getting through a day a weight I could feel.

Where It Wore Me Out

The trading-company terminology was unfamiliar during the first few episodes. I looked things up as I watched. The drama doesn’t always stop to make its work easy for a newcomer to follow.

I also noticed a repeating rhythm: a project begins, something goes wrong, and people work to put it right. There were stretches when I wanted a change of pace.

Some of the supportive supervisors felt more ideal than people I would expect to meet so often in real life. I liked their care, but occasionally found myself thinking that I wished it were easier to find people like that outside the story.

And although the viewing rhythm could feel comfortable, the pressure on the characters took something out of me. On a tiring day, one episode at a time would be my recommendation.

Why It Lasted Beyond the Office Problems

I became interested in people I had initially dismissed. Understanding their pressures didn’t make every action acceptable, but it made my reactions less simple. Sometimes I caught myself wondering how someone I had found irritating was managing their own day.

The part I carried away was the effort of continuing: learning a task, making room for another person, and returning to work without having everything settled. I cared about that more than the prospect of a spectacular deal.

That is also where this review meets my Misaeng webtoon review. In the comic, quiet panels and the experience of reading it at different stages of my working life mattered most to me. Here, expressions, voices, and the visible fatigue of the people around Geu-rae gave those feelings another form.

My preference for the comic remains. Enjoying the drama alongside it felt natural.

Who I’d Recommend It To, and Where to Begin

I’d recommend it to someone finding their feet at a first job, feeling the weight of another Monday, or wondering after years of work whether everyone else finds it easier.

If you want fast developments, frequent twists, or a romance at the center, this may not be the drama you’re looking for. And if an evening away from office concerns is what you need, save it for another day. I probably wouldn’t choose it just before leaving for work on Monday, either.

For official viewing information, check the Netflix listing for your region or the tvN archive, which links to TVING. Availability and language options can vary by country and account.

The Misaeng hub separates the original comic from the drama. If the opening’s unfamiliar qualifications and workplace expectations leave you with questions, the workplace explainer offers a little context without revealing later career outcomes.

Official drama listing checked: October 30, 2026. Viewing availability and language options may change.

What I remember most is still the people. If you’re having a difficult working week, I hope you find a moment when their company feels right for you.