D. P. (2021)

D.P. (Deserter Pursuit) is a gritty, emotionally resonant Korean drama that follows Private Ahn Joon-ho (played by Jung Hae-in), a quiet yet sharp-witted conscript serving his mandatory military duty (병역 의무). Unexpectedly transferred to a unit tasked with apprehending military deserters (탈영병), Joon-ho joins the D.P. team—military police (헌병) responsible for tracking down fellow soldiers who have gone AWOL.

As he hunts them down, Joon-ho begins to witness the painful realities that drive these men to run—bullying, abuse, injustice, and despair hidden beneath the surface of military life. Beneath its tense action and procedural format, D.P. explores themes of power, isolation, empathy, and the moral ambiguity of duty.

Based on a popular webtoon, the series sheds light on the darker corners of Korean military culture while asking: who are we really punishing, and why?

Like Blade Runner (1982), Ridley Scott’s sci-fi classic set in a dystopian future, D.P. blurs the line between hunter and hunted. In Blade Runner, a burned-out detective named Deckard is tasked with tracking down rogue androids—only to begin questioning the morality of his mission and what it means to be human. Similarly, as Joon-ho chases down military deserters, D.P. becomes less about enforcing rules and more about confronting the system that drives young men to escape. Both stories turn the pursuit of fugitives into a deeper examination of justice, empathy, and institutional failure.

In one early scene from D.P. Season 1, Private Ahn Joon-ho (Jung Hae-in) finds himself the target of hazing and intimidation by an aggressive senior. Isolated and powerless in the rigid hierarchy of military life, he braces for yet another round of humiliation—until Corporal Han Ho-yeol (played by Koo Kyo-hwan), Joon-ho’s direct superior (직속 상관 or 사수) in the D.P. unit, suddenly appears.

With perfect timing and sharp instincts, Ho-yeol interrupts the bullying, not by confronting it directly, but by pretending to scold Joon-ho himself. His playful but calculated “fake disciplinary act” shifts the dynamic, defuses the tension, and offers Joon-ho a quiet lifeline. Click here to watch the scene

This moment not only sets the tone for the duo’s evolving partnership, but also reveals Ho-yeol’s unorthodox charm and protectiveness. Their on-screen chemistry—a mix of dry humor, emotional subtlety, and unspoken solidarity—quickly becomes one of the show’s most beloved elements. The scene is small, but unforgettable—one soldier quietly reaching out to another in a place where kindness is rare.

Their camaraderie further deepens during a mission in Busan, where Joon-ho and Ho-yeol are assigned to collaborate with another D.P. unit. Upon arrival, Ho-yeol unexpectedly refuses to work with one of the soldiers from the other team. The reason? Years ago, that soldier stole Ho-yeol’s cherished choco pie (초코 파이)—a transgression Ho-yeol has neither forgotten nor forgiven. What begins as a seemingly petty grudge unfolds into a comically sincere moment, highlighting the profound value placed on small comforts within the military. Click here to watch the scene

In Korean military culture, choco pies—marshmallow-filled chocolate snacks—hold an almost iconic status. To civilians, they’re just treats. But for conscripted soldiers enduring strict schedules, hierarchical pressures, and limited personal freedoms, a choco pie represents a rare indulgence and a taste of home. They’re often traded, gifted, or hoarded like treasure, making Ho-yeol’s long-standing grudge both humorous and relatable. This scene blends comedy with a poignant nod to the emotional significance of such snacks in a system where even a bite of chocolate can mean so much more.

One of the most haunting moments in D.P. comes from the story of Jo Suk-bong, a quiet, gentle soldier relentlessly bullied and humiliated by his superiors. Before enlisting, he taught art at a private academy, where students affectionately called him 봉디 쌤 (Teacher Bongdhi)—a nickname combining the last syllable of his name (봉), the peaceful figure Gandhi (디), and the casual term for teacher, 쌤. It’s a name that reflects his nature: kind, nonviolent, and soft-spoken. But in the military, Suk-bong becomes the target of severe 괴롭힘—a term that refers not only to personal torment but systemic abuse, whether in schools (학교 폭력 or 왕따), the workplace (직장 내 괴롭힘), or institutions like the military (군대 내 가혹행위).

In the final episode of Season 1, Suk-bong confronts the senior who tormented him with a single question: “저한테 왜 그러셨습니까?” (“Why did you treat me that way”). The answer—“그냥...그래도 되는 줄 알았어.” (“I just thought it was okay to do that.”)—cuts to the heart of institutional failure. It’s a devastating line that reflects how cruelty becomes normalized when no one intervenes. Moments later, Suk-bong speaks the words that echo far beyond the barracks: “뭐라도 바꾸려면 뭐라도 해야지.” (“If you want to change something, you have to do something.”) His line resonated deeply with those who have experienced or witnessed school bullying, workplace harassment, or military hazing—calling on all of us, not just victims (피해자 or 희생자), but bystanders (방관자), to act.

And yet, even in this heavy, final arc, D.P. never forgets its more human, sometimes absurd side—like the earlier choco pie grudge in Busan. In a place where dignity is easily stripped away, something as simple as a choco pie can hold unexpected meaning—a small symbol of comfort, fairness, or even quiet resistance. If Suk-bong found peace in drawing, others clung to little things like snacks—brief moments of sweetness that made the days feel a little more bearable.

So, if you’re curious to recreate a bite of that warmth, here’s a recipe to make homemade choco pie—not just a dessert (후식), but a small reminder of what it means to treat someone gently. 수제 초코파이 만들기

🍴 Bite-Sized Korean: Military Slang in Everyday Life

Many Korean expressions come from military culture, where hierarchy, discipline, and routines are strict and deeply ingrained. Over time, some of these phrases have made their way into everyday conversation—especially in schools, offices, and social groups. Here are three common examples:

1. 짬 / 짬밥
Literal Meaning: “Time served” / “Military meal”
Everyday Meaning: Refers to someone's seniority, experience, or time spent in a position. “짬이 있다” means someone has been around long enough to be respected (or bossy), while “짬이 안 되다” means they're still new or lower in rank.

Examples:
• 저 선배는 짬밥으로만 사람을 누르려고 해요.
(That senior tries to boss others around just because he’s been here longer.)
• 아직 짬이 안 돼서 아무 말도 못 했어요.
(I couldn’t speak up—I’m still too new here.)

2. 군기(가) 빠지다
Literal Meaning: “To lose military discipline”
Everyday Meaning: Used to describe someone who seems too laid-back, unserious, or not following expected norms—whether it’s a new employee showing up late, a student not following rules, or a friend being too casual.

Examples:
• 요즘 신입사원들 군기가 빠졌다는 말이 많아요.
(People are saying the new hires have gotten too relaxed lately.)
• 발표할 때 장난치니까 선생님이 군기 빠졌다고 하셨어요.
(I was joking during my presentation, and the teacher said I was out of line.)

3. 사수 & 부사수

Literal Meaning:

• 사수: "Shooter" (the person firing during drills)

• 부사수: "Assistant shooter"

Everyday Meaning:
Originally from military shooting drills, 사수 and 부사수 now refer to a mentor and trainee, especially in workplaces or hands-on learning environments. A 사수 is the senior guiding or training someone new, while a 부사수 is the junior learning under their supervision. These terms are commonly used when someone is learning by doing—shadowing, assisting, and gradually gaining independence.

한호열 병장: 야, 넌 내 부사수야. 사수 말은 잘 들어야지.
안준호 이병: 사수 말 들었다가 또 이상한 데 끌려가는 거 아니죠?

(Ho-yeol: Hey, you’re my trainee. You’re supposed to listen to your mentor.)
(Joon-ho: Just making sure listening to you doesn’t get me dragged somewhere weird again.)