Cambodia’s state-run AKP News Agency reported that a joint task force cracking down on online scam syndicates arrested several Chinese nationals during a raid conducted in Kampot Province in August. (Image captured from the AKP News Agency website)
BUSAN, Oct. 13 (Korea Bizwire) — When South Korean investigators uncovered the brutal murder of a Korean college student in Cambodia last month, they found more than a single tragedy.
They exposed the edges of a dark, sprawling industry — one that recruits young Koreans with promises of quick money, only to entangle them in sophisticated online scam rings that trade in deception and fear.
A recent ruling by the Busan District Court has laid bare the inner workings of one such network — a “romance scam” operation headquartered in Cambodia’s border city of Bavet and in Vientiane, Laos.
The verdict against three Koreans in their 20s and 30s revealed how ordinary young people, lured by false job ads for “cryptocurrency-related work,” ended up working under armed guard in what amounted to a digital sweatshop.
The court sentenced the trio to prison terms ranging from two years and four months to three years and two months for fraud and participation in a criminal organization. From July 3 to 24 of last year, the group swindled 13 victims out of some 580 million won (about US$420,000), posing online as romantic partners and persuading their targets to transfer money — a classic “romance scam.”
The judgment offers a rare look inside the machinery of these transnational operations. The syndicate was led by a Chinese “mastermind” and structured like a corporate hierarchy, with managers, recruiters, money launderers, and tightly monitored call-center staff.
An online scam syndicate arrested by Cambodian police in July (Photo credit: EPA-Yonhap)
Workers lived and worked under constant surveillance. Cameras recorded their computer screens and movements as they labored for 12-hour shifts from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m.
Every minute of tardiness carried fines; underperformers were forced to stay until 11 p.m. They couldn’t carry phones, chat with coworkers, or use personal accounts on company computers. Even entering the building required photographing themselves with an access card and sending the image to a Chinese manager for approval.
Security guards armed with guns patrolled every floor. Those who asked to leave were told to pay a “penalty” of US$10,000 — or leave a friend behind as collateral.
Most of the Korean recruits had been enticed through acquaintances, offered free airfare and housing, and reassured that the work was legitimate. Once in Cambodia or Laos, they discovered that their new “office jobs” were part of an international scam enterprise — and that escape was nearly impossible.
“The social damage caused by these organizations is severe,” presiding Judge Shim Jae-nam wrote. “Their foreign bases make it extraordinarily difficult to dismantle them, and firm punishment is necessary.”
Still, the court acknowledged that the defendants’ cooperation and their limited power to withdraw from the operation merited some leniency.
The case, one among several now surfacing in Southeast Asia, underscores a growing and unsettling reality: the fusion of digital crime and human exploitation. In the race for easy money, young Koreans — many job seekers or students — are finding themselves trapped in a new kind of cyber underworld, one that thrives on anonymity, fear, and the illusion of connection.
M. H. Lee (mhlee@koreabizwire.com)
