Recently, a colleague from the U.S. watched a Korean drama for the first time and asked me a strange question.

There was a scene where the male lead carries the drunk female lead on his back, and he wondered why they didn't just call a taxi.

At first, I laughed it off, but upon reflection, it was indeed a curious question.

Thinking back, I also used to overlook that scene without much thought, but from a foreigner's perspective, it definitely seems unusual.

In the U.S., the act of carrying an adult is strange, and running with a drunk person could be seen as dangerous.

However, in Korean dramas, the act of carrying someone is close to a classic romantic trope.

It shows that this person cares for me without saying a word, and that single action conveys emotions more strongly than dialogue.

In fact, if you look at columns about dramas or articles summarizing tropes, the carrying scene is so frequently attached to scenes after drinking that it has become classified as a cliché.

The second most common reaction is the way drinks are poured during company gatherings.

When a senior pours a drink, the junior receives it with both hands, and when drinking, they subtly turn their body away. My colleague was confused about whether this was a sign of respect or embarrassment.

In reality, it's not embarrassment but a gesture expressing respect for hierarchy.

Once you understand that it's considered polite for someone younger or of lower rank to not fully reveal their drink in front of a senior, the context behind that brief action looks completely different.

The third is the moment when the speech level shifts from formal to informal.

Two people start using informal language after initially speaking formally, and this transition itself signals that their relationship has become much closer.

The problem is that English subtitles do not differentiate between formal and informal speech.

As a result, the subtle change in atmosphere during that moment disappears in the subtitles, making it hard for viewers who don't understand Korean to notice why the dynamic between the two suddenly changed.

In fact, there have been criticisms in the content industry that translations of Korean content on streaming platforms are too literal, missing cultural nuances.

The fourth is the setting of chaebols (large family-owned business conglomerates).

When you see a character inheriting the chairmanship for three generations, entangled with politicians, and a single company shaking the national economy, it can easily feel like an exaggerated fantasy to American viewers.

However, this aspect is not entirely fictional, which makes it even more interesting.

It is well-known from various economic reports that the revenue of a few large conglomerates significantly impacts the overall economy, and the structure of management being passed down within families actually exists.

Knowing that the chaebol setting in dramas is not pure fiction changes the viewing experience.

If you watch without understanding these cultural codes, it's just a strange scene, but once you know the background, it becomes clear why that scene is there, making the drama much more enjoyable.

According to viewing data released by Netflix, Korean content accounts for 8-9% of total viewing time, ranking second after the U.S., ahead of the U.K.'s 7-8% and Japan's 4-5%.

Seeing this number made me think that it's worth learning a few unfamiliar cultural codes while watching.

Whether it's cars or dramas, once you see it confirmed by numbers, it's hard not to feel more drawn to it.

Personally, I believe it's much better to not just gloss over these scenes with subtitles but to look into why they happen.

That way, the scene starts to appear as a language of another culture rather than a cringeworthy cliché.