I cover a wide range of stories about Korean society — one of the most dynamic places in the world. To me, journalism means being on the ground, uncovering untold stories and amplifying marginalized voices, especially in an era when AI is reshaping the media landscape. That’s why I’m always here to listen. Tips and stories are welcome — feel free to reach out via email. Before becoming a journalist, I traveled through 24 countries over 702 days, served two years as a military police officer in the Republic of Korea Air Force and later studied filmmaking at the Korea National University of Arts.
Lovebugs back — this time a bigger problem

Hikers walk along the top of Mount Gyeyang in Incheon, Monday. The mountain is blanketed with lovebugs. Yonhap
Ecologists call them beneficial insects, but many Koreans find them irritating and unpleasant
Kim Jae-woong, an avid outdoorsman, headed to Incheon’s Mount Gyeyang over the weekend — and found himself in the middle of a surreal infestation. Swarms of lovebugs took over the mountain, their dead and living bodies so thick they blanketed many of the trails.
“The ground felt soft with lovebugs,” he wrote in a comment on his video online. “Even the stray cats that usually roam the area had all disappeared. The entire mountain felt overrun.”
His footage, showing the lovebug invasion on Mount Gyeyang, quickly went viral, becoming one of the most talked-about posts in Korea over the weekend and racking up more than 35,000 likes.
Lovebugs blanket the trails on Mount Gyeyang in Incheon, Saturday. Captured from Kim's Instagram
Lovebugs, or Plecia nearctica — named for the way mated pairs fly while attached — have increasingly appeared across the country in recent years, a trend scientists attribute to the Korean Peninsula’s shift toward a subtropical climate due to climate change.
Commonly found in warm regions like southeastern China and Japan’s Okinawa, lovebugs began appearing in large numbers in Korea around 2022, especially in the Seoul metropolitan area. They were initially concentrated in the northwestern district of Eunpyeong and nearby areas but have since spread citywide and then nationwide.
Lovebug populations typically surge in early summer, peaking between June and July. Males spend most of their three-day lifespan mating before dying, while females live a few days longer to lay eggs before dying as well. Each female can lay between 100 and 300 eggs.
Ecologists say the current wave is likely to subside by mid-July. Because of low survival rates, lovebug populations typically crash about two weeks after a mass emergence.
As they are neither toxic nor disease-carrying, they are technically classified as beneficial insects. Their larvae help decompose fallen leaves, enriching the soil, while adults act as pollinators.
Still, many Koreans find them irritating and unpleasant. The scenes they create and the disruptions to daily life have left the public more exasperated than appreciative.
YouTube videos about lovebugs are filled with comments such as: “Even if they’re beneficial, how can they be called that when their numbers are out of control?” and “If there are so many that they disgust people, then they’re pests.”
According to a survey conducted last year by the Seoul Institute of 1,000 city residents, 42.6 percent of respondents said they found lovebugs unpleasant or frightening to look at, ranking them third after cockroaches and bedbugs.
The survey also found that 86 percent of respondents view even beneficial insects as pests when they appear in large enough numbers to cause discomfort.
Park Hyean-cheal, an ecology professor at Pusan National University, told The Korea Times that while climate change may play a role in the spread of lovebugs, the main cause is a loss of biodiversity caused by ecological disruption.
“When a wide variety of species coexist, you don't see one particular population explode like this,” Park said. “Urban ecosystems need predators that can feed on lovebug larvae. The sheer scale of the outbreak is an environmental problem — and a warning sign.”