On the night of October 1, workers in Seocho-dong, the legal district of southern Seoul, took down a four-character sign. It read Daegeomchalcheong, the Supreme Prosecutors' Office. By morning, a shorter three-character sign hung in its place. With that swap, Korea prosecution reform stopped being a campaign slogan and became a fact. The office had existed since 1948, the year the republic was founded. For 78 years, its prosecutors could open an investigation, direct the police, request arrest warrants and decide who stood trial. Few democracies gave one body that much control. Now, however, that body no longer exists. In its place stand two new agencies, and neither had a confirmed chief on opening day. As a result, the first week brought postponed trials, paper forms and borrowed police cells. So what exactly changed, why did it happen, and what does it mean if you run a company or simply live here? Here is the full picture. The Day the Sign Came Down October 2 was a Friday. In central Seoul, about 100 officials gathered in a rented office tower to open the Serious Crimes Investigation Agency, known in Korean as Jungsucheong. Photographers noticed that the new nameplate was not properly fixed and wobbled on the wall. In hindsight, it was an apt image. Across town, the mood was very different. The new Public Prosecution Service, or Gongsocheong, opened with a small ceremony behind closed doors. Its acting chief, Lee Jung-hyun, told staff they would have to "prove again to the public" why the organization exists. Even the rebranding had a price. The Justice Ministry set aside 6.5 billion won, about $5 million, to replace signs, seals and symbols across the country. Meanwhile, 42 direct investigation divisions were abolished overnight, and 29 new indictment divisions took their place. In short, the Korean prosecutors' office abolished itself on schedule. Whether its replacements were ready is another question. Why Korean Prosecutors Were So Powerful To understand Korea prosecution reform, you first need to understand what was taken apart. In most common-law countries, the police investigate and prosecutors take the file to court. In Korea, by contrast, prosecutors did both. The Criminal Procedure Act of 1954 placed them at the top of the investigation, with police acting under their direction. There was a historical reason. After liberation in 1945, the police force was widely distrusted because of its role under Japanese colonial rule. Therefore, lawmakers gave control to prosecutors, who were seen as trained lawyers and a safer pair of hands. Over time, four powers ended up in the same building: Investigation. Prosecutors could launch their own cases, with their own investigators. Command. They could direct and overrule the police. Warrants. Under the constitution, only a prosecutor may ask a judge for an arrest or search warrant. Indictment. They alone decided whether to charge a suspect or drop the case. Consequently, a single prosecutor could start a case, shape the evidence and judge its strength. Critics called this "the prosecutors' republic." Supporters, on the other hand, pointed to results. Elite special investigation units jailed former presidents and convicted the heads of the largest conglomerates. That record is the core of the dispute. To some Koreans, prosecutors were the only institution strong enough to take on the powerful. To others, they were the powerful. In particular, critics said that investigations tended to target whichever side had just lost an election. A Reform Twenty Years in the Making Korea prosecution reform did not begin with the current government. In fact, it has been a liberal cause for more than two decades. President Roh Moo-hyun raised it in 2003, in a televised debate with junior prosecutors that many Koreans still remember. His attempt stalled. Then, in 2009, Roh died by suicide while under investigation for bribery. For his political heirs, the issue became personal. After that, change came in steps: 2021. Under President Moon Jae-in, police gained the power to close cases on their own. Prosecutors were limited to six types of crime. In addition, a new Corruption Investigation Office for High-ranking Officials, or CIO, opened. 2022. A second law cut the six categories to two: corruption and economic crime. However, the next government widened them again by decree. 2022 to 2025. Yoon Suk Yeol, a former prosecutor general, served as president. He was removed from office after declaring martial law in December 2024. September 26, 2025. Under President Lee Jae Myung, the National Assembly voted 174 to 1 to abolish the office, with a one-year grace period. March 2026. Laws creating the two new agencies passed the Assembly 166 to 1, with the main opposition party sitting out the vote. "A goal 70 years in the making is finally coming true," the ruling party chairman said. July 31, 2026. A revised Criminal Procedure Act removed prosecutors' last investigative powers. October 2, 2026. The office closed. Politics is hard to separate from this timeline. Lee himself was indicted several times by the old office, and foreign headlines noted as much. Opponents therefore describe the overhaul as revenge. Supporters reply that the plan is far older than Lee's legal troubles. Both points are true, which is why the debate remains so bitter. The New Structure: Who Investigates, Who Indicts So who does what now? The short answer is that the work is split across two ministries. The Serious Crimes Investigation Agency The Serious Crimes Investigation Agency, or SCIA, is the investigator. It sits under the Ministry of the Interior and Safety, the same ministry that oversees the police. Korean media have nicknamed it the "Korean FBI." By law, it handles seven categories: Corruption Economic crime Defense procurement crime Narcotics Crimes against national security, such as insurrection Cybercrime "Distortion of law," meaning abuse of power by judges, prosecutors and investigators The agency has a headquarters and six regional offices in Seoul, Suwon, Daejeon, Daegu, Busan and Gwangju. Its authorized staff is 2,874, and almost nine in ten are investigators. Notably, the Seoul office alone is set to hold more than 1,000 people. The Public Prosecution Service The Public Prosecution Service is what remains of the old institution. It stays under the Ministry of Justice and keeps roughly 2,300 prosecutors. Its head still carries the title of prosecutor general, but now serves a single two-year term. Its job is narrower. Prosecutors review the file, request warrants, decide on charges and argue the case in court. They can also interview a complainant to check the facts before deciding. Crucially, however, they can no longer investigate. If a file looks thin, a prosecutor may only ask the police or the SCIA to do more work. That request must be in writing, and investigators have one month to respond, with one extension allowed. This "supplementary investigation" rule was the most fought-over clause in the whole package. Everyone else The National Police Agency now handles almost all ordinary crime, from theft to assault to most fraud. Meanwhile, the CIO continues to cover senior officials. Specialist regulators with police powers, such as the financial watchdog's investigators, also remain in place. In other words, Korea has moved from one dominant body to several. That is exactly what reformers wanted. It is also what worries their critics. A Rocky First Week for the Korea Prosecution Service The launch of Korea prosecution reform did not go smoothly. Indeed, the problems started within hours. First, there was nobody in charge. The nominee to lead the SCIA, former prosecutor Kim Ji-yong, had not yet had a confirmation hearing. A deputy, former judge Jeon Jong-min, ran the agency instead. Similarly, the Public Prosecution Service had only an acting head. The justice minister's seat had been empty since late August, and one nominee withdrew after 20 days. Without a minister, the process of choosing a prosecutor general could not even begin. Second, the agency was understaffed. The SCIA opened with about 1,900 people, roughly two-thirds of its quota. Senior posts were harder still to fill. According to one Korean weekly, only about a third of positions at manager level and above drew applicants. Many experienced prosecutors chose to stay put or leave for private practice. Third, the infrastructure was unfinished. Only part of the Seoul headquarters was usable, and construction was expected to continue for months. The agency has no detention cells of its own, so it borrows them from police stations. Its case management system runs on the police network for now, with a standalone version years away. Fourth, the courts were caught off guard. On opening day, judges postponed hearings in two high-profile cases. One involved former President Yoon, and the other involved Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon. The reason was technical. Prosecutors on loan to special counsel teams had been seconded from an office that no longer existed, and no rule said whether their orders were still valid. Regional offices struggled as well. In Daegu, staff could not log in to the justice information system and passed documents by hand. Meanwhile, the Gwangju office had no form to confirm receipt of its very first complaint. In Suwon, some employees learned their department only after the doors opened. Elsewhere, citizens who came to pay fines or collect certificates were sent home. Officials call these teething troubles. "Even if investigation and indictment are separated, the responsibility to the public must not be divided," Interior Minister Yun Ho-jung said at the opening. Still, the backlog is real. As of August, prosecutors' offices held about 165,000 pending cases, and all of them need a new home. What Korea Prosecution Reform Means for Business For companies, the headline is counterintuitive. Many executives assumed that weaker prosecutors would mean fewer investigations. Korea's largest law firms expect the opposite. Consider the numbers. The SCIA's Seoul office includes a financial crimes bureau of about 150 people. The equivalent unit in the old system had around 45. Likewise, its antitrust bureau has about 120 staff, compared with 17 before. That is roughly three times and seven times the previous headcount. "The sheer volume of investigations will grow, which could increase criminal risk for companies," Kim Hoo-gon, managing partner of Lee & Ko, told a seminar of about 100 listed firms. His reasoning is simple. New agencies want to prove themselves, and big cases are how they do it. Several practical changes follow. A money threshold decides who knocks. Fraud, embezzlement and breach of trust go to the SCIA when the gain is 500 million won or more, roughly $370,000. Below that line, the police take the case. Capital market and antitrust offences also belong to the new agency. As a result, a company may face a different investigator depending on how a number is calculated. Overlap is likely. If police find a crime in the SCIA's territory, they must notify the agency within three days. However, the formal council that settles turf disputes does not start work until February 2027. Until then, two agencies could pursue the same facts. Lawyers at several firms have warned of duplicate probes. Regulators feed a new pipeline. Criminal referrals from the Fair Trade Commission used to go to the prosecutor general. Now they go to the SCIA. For that reason, advisers say a regulatory inquiry should be treated as a criminal matter from day one. The first interview matters more. Previously, a prosecutor often re-investigated a case before charging. That second look is gone. Courts will therefore rely on what investigators collected at the start. A weak early response is harder to repair later. Expect delays. Lawyers estimate that moving records and reassigning cases could take two to three months. For firms with pending matters, that means uncertainty well into winter. There is a quieter concern too. The old special investigation units had decades of experience with complex accounting and control structures. We explained how tangled those can be in our guide to the Samsung ownership structure. Whether a brand-new agency can read such structures as fluently is an open question. On the other hand, some lawyers think dedicated teams may eventually move faster than the old system did. Other enforcement trends point the same way. Executives already face personal liability under the Korea Serious Accidents Act. In addition, technology leaks are now treated as a national security matter, as we covered in our report on Korea industrial espionage. Add a larger, hungrier investigative agency, and the compliance budget is unlikely to shrink. How Other Countries Divide the Job Does Korea prosecution reform make the country an outlier? Not really. Rather, it has moved from one end of the spectrum toward the other. United States. Agencies such as the FBI investigate, and prosecutors bring charges. In practice, however, federal prosecutors often guide major cases from an early stage through grand juries. Japan. Police handle most crime. Nevertheless, prosecutors may investigate on their own, and Tokyo's special investigation unit pursues political and corporate cases. The arrest of Carlos Ghosn in 2018 was its work. Germany. By law, the prosecutor is the "master of the investigation." In daily life, though, police do most of the legwork and prosecutors supervise. England and Wales. Police investigate, and the Crown Prosecution Service decides on charges. A separate Serious Fraud Office handles complex financial crime. The old Korean model was closest to Japan's, only stronger. The new one, in contrast, resembles the English arrangement. During the debate, both camps cited foreign examples, and both were selective. Supporters stressed that few countries let prosecutors monopolize so many powers. Opponents replied that almost none ban prosecutors from investigating altogether. One feature remains unusually Korean. The constitution still says that only a prosecutor can request a warrant. Therefore, SCIA investigators and police must go through the Public Prosecution Service before any raid or arrest. That gatekeeping role is now the prosecutors' main lever. What Foreigners Should Know For most foreign residents, Korea prosecution reform will not change daily life. Still, a few points are worth knowing. Where to report a crime. Go to the police. The Public Prosecution Service no longer accepts complaints directly. If you are a victim of a scam, theft or assault, the local station is your starting point, and 112 is the emergency number. Large financial cases may be passed to the SCIA. Fraud is the most common reason foreigners end up filing a report, and our guide to Korea voice phishing explains the usual tricks. How long it should take. Under the new rules, investigators are expected to finish within about three months. Prosecutors then have a similar window to decide on charges. In addition, a complainant can formally object if a case sits idle for six months. During the transition, however, expect slower handling. What to do if police drop your case. You may file an objection, and the file then goes to a prosecutor for review. Deadlines are strict, so note the date on any notice you receive. If you already have a case. It has not vanished. Nevertheless, the case number, office and officer in charge may all have changed. Call and confirm. Meanwhile, keep your own copies of contracts, messages and bank records. If you are questioned. Your rights are the same as before. You may have a lawyer present, and you may ask for an interpreter. New rules also expand audio recording of interviews, which helps anyone working in a second language. Immigration is separate. Visas and residence permits are handled by the immigration service under the Justice Ministry. That did not change. However, an open criminal case can still affect a visa renewal, and investigators can still ask for a departure ban. For companies. Requests for evidence from abroad and extradition matters pass through the Justice Ministry, which remains in place. Even so, legal advisers flagged early on that cross-border cooperation could be slower while the new agencies settle in. Similarly, firms handling personal data should remember that regulators can refer breaches for criminal investigation, as outlined in our piece on the Korea data privacy law. What Comes Next Several dates will show whether the Korea prosecution service overhaul is working. First, watch the appointments. Until a justice minister, a prosecutor general and an SCIA chief are confirmed, both agencies are led by stand-ins. Second, watch December. That is when the next phase of the SCIA's computer system is due, and when construction at its headquarters should be finished. Third, watch the first big case. Korean media report that unresolved matters tied to the 2024 martial law crisis could be the agency's opening file. Whatever it picks will be read as a signal of its priorities. Finally, watch February 5, 2027. On that day, the council that settles jurisdiction fights between the police and the SCIA begins work. A constitutional challenge is also widely expected. There is a cultural footnote as well. For generations, becoming a prosecutor was the ultimate prize for ambitious Korean students, much as a government post once was. We traced that fading ideal in our piece on the Korea civil service exam. A prosecutor who cannot investigate is a different job, and law students are already rethinking their plans. The Bottom Line Korea prosecution reform ended an institution that was older than most of the country's companies. In its place, the Serious Crimes Investigation Agency investigates, and the Public Prosecution Service decides whether to charge. On paper, the split is clean. In practice, the first week showed how much was left undone. For businesses, the lesson is not that enforcement got softer. If anything, more investigators are now looking at financial and antitrust conduct, and their lines of authority are still being drawn. For residents, the lesson is simpler. The police station is now the front door of Korean criminal justice. "The government and the ruling bloc will have to prove through results that the new system is better," one political scientist told The Korea Times. That test has now begun. After all, taking down a sign took one night. Building trust in what replaced it will take far longer.