Ji Ye-eun Opens Up About Working Part-Time While Her Korea Arts University Classmates Were Already on TV

Ji Ye-eun appeared on the YouTube channel Okiki (오키키ㅇㅋㅋ) on the 5th for a segment titled "Adult Dating in Your 30s," and the conversation quickly moved toward territory she rarely addresses publicly: the gap between getting into a prestigious arts school and actually getting work.

That gap lasted years. While classmates from Korea National University of Arts (한국예술종합학교, commonly known as Hangnyejong) began appearing on television dramas, Ji was still picking up part-time jobs. "When my classmates got cast in dramas and started appearing on TV, I couldn't even turn the television on," she said. "I was still doing part-time work, so my self-esteem dropped a lot."

The appearance also brought renewed attention to old photos taken around the time she was admitted to the university, now roughly twelve years ago. The images show her in a green T-shirt, short hair with bangs, and minimal makeup, holding up peace signs with both hands. The contrast with her current look, longer hair and a sharper, more defined style, has circulated again online alongside commentary about how much time and experience can shift a person's presence.

Ji, now 32, was candid about how her twenties actually felt from the inside, which was less polished than the retrospective photos might suggest. She studied piano for years before a friend who attended an acting academy introduced her to the idea in high school. She switched directions relatively late and prepared for the university entrance audition in a compressed window before getting in. Her reaction at the time was characteristically blunt: "I got into the school I wanted, so I thought to myself, 'I really am a genius.'"

The confidence did not last long. The acting industry has its own timeline, and hers did not follow the trajectory she assumed admission to Hangnyejong would guarantee. Getting into one of Korea's most competitive performing arts institutions opens doors, but it does not schedule what comes through them.

What has changed, she suggested, is not ambition but inhibition. "In my twenties I feel like I had more fun. It was an arts school, so we played like troublemakers. We'd all walk out during class to go drink makgeolli together." Now in her thirties, she describes a different internal register: "I'm more aware of how I appear to others, more concerned with keeping face, so I actually feel more blocked. Like I'm holding myself back."

The segment, and the photos that resurfaced alongside it, offer a straightforward picture of what early careers in Korean entertainment often look like away from the camera: long stretches of waiting, odd jobs, and watching peers move at a pace that feels like a verdict.