South Korea Launches ‘Relaxation Prison’ Concept for Mental Clarity
Ambition and burnout are starting to look like close cousins, especially in work cultures that view exhaustion as a badge of honor. Long hours, constant connection, and pressure to outperform have turned stress into a daily expectation. As a result, traditional wellness solutions are losing their appeal, and people are seeking something more drastic, more controlled, and far more unconventional.
The growing frustration opened the door to an idea that flips rest on its head. Instead of adding luxury or stimulation, it strips everything away. It sounds extreme, yet for many, it feels like the first solution that actually makes sense.
The Opposite of Relaxation
The concept was created by Kwon Yong-seok, a former prosecutor whose schedule once hit roughly 100 hours a week for months at a time. Burnout pushed him and his wife, co-founder Noh Ji-hyang, to design a controlled space modeled after a prison cell but aimed at mental reset. The center, called Prison Inside Me, opened in 2013 in the countryside outside Seoul.
Guests volunteer to enter one of 28 small rooms, each approximately five square meters in size, and stay for 24 to 48 hours, or even longer in special programs. Phones, email, and outside communication stay outside the door. Daily life follows a rigid routine that starts at 6:00 a.m., includes simple meals delivered through a hatch, and stretches into long blocks of silence and self-reflection.
Each room includes a small table, basic writing tools, a tea set, a yoga mat, heated flooring, and a window for light. There is even a panic button to signal staff if a guest feels overwhelmed. While the word “prison” may grab attention, the goal remains focused on internal clarity rather than punishment. Many participants return more than once, a fact that seems surprising until their reasons begin to make sense.
The Pressure That Made Them Return
South Korea ranks among the most overworked countries in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development. In 2018, employees logged more than 2K working hours per year, around 300 hours above the OECD average. Before new labor laws adjusted the limit to 52 hours per week in mid-2018, a legal workweek could stretch to 68 hours.
The term “gwarosa,” which translates to “death by overwork,” exists for a grim reason. This intense culture has helped fuel high levels of alcohol consumption, with nearly 20 percent of the population reporting more than 10 drinks per week. Mental health challenges have also remained widespread, with South Korea recording around 25 suicides per 100K people in 2016, one of the highest rates among OECD countries.
Public funding has not kept pace with the scale of the issue. Around 2016, only 3 percent of South Korea’s health budget was allocated to mental health services, whereas the World Health Organization recommends a range of 15 to 50 percent. Treatment access has remained limited. Only about 15 percent of those with mental health concerns receive formal care, and fewer than a quarter of people living with depression are actively monitored.
A Quiet Rebellion Against Constant Connectivity
Image via Canva/Syda Productions
Inside the retreat, guests trade notifications for notebooks and silence. The absence of screens forces the brain to slow down, reflect, and rest without the pressure of performance. While no licensed therapist remains present in the cell, group sessions and guided practices encourage introspection, meditation, and thoughtful interaction at select times. Some visitors compare the experience to hitting a mental reset button. Others see it as a safe pause, a moment to step outside the grind without losing their place in it.
Pricing has raised eyebrows. A 48-hour stay costs around ₩ 100,000, roughly $75 USD, while a week-long option reaches ₩ 500,000, about $380 USD. Despite this expense, demand continues to grow. Approximately 2,000 people have participated in the program to date.