In recent years, the demand for fortune-telling services has surged. According to Shinhan Bank, Koreans' spending on fortune readings has increased by 13 percent in the past year. This rise suggests that in uncertain times, more people are turning to spiritual guidance for reassurance.

Shamanism in Korea dates back to the earliest days of the peninsula's history. The roots of Mu can be traced to Gojoseon, Korea's first recorded dynasty. Its legendary founder, Dangun, is believed to have been the first shaman.

While not all Koreans actively practice shamanism, its influence is deeply ingrained in the culture. Many seek guidance from shamans, also known as manshin or mudang, for major life decisions — from business ventures to relationships. Even corporate leaders, including those from Korea's powerful chaebol conglomerates, have been known to consult shamans before making critical moves. Individuals visit them to ask whether they should move abroad, how their exam results will turn out or even if a romantic partner is the right match.

Curious about the enduring relevance of this ancient tradition, the Howdy Korea team visited one of the best-known shamans in Seoul: a woman known as the "Snowflake Witch" (SW), who has appeared on multiple television programs and runs her own YouTube channel. Her residence, situated in Hannam-dong — home to some of Seoul's wealthiest figures — immediately caught our attention. Home to figures such as Samsung's former CEO and South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol, Hannam-dong is an enclave of the elite. How, then, does a shaman end up in such an exclusive neighborhood?

The answer lies in the growing popularity — and profitability — of shamanic services. As the demand for fortune-telling increased, high-profile shamans like SW have found themselves in a lucrative position. Wealthy clients, including business executives and celebrities, are willing to pay significant sums for private readings and spiritual consultations. Over time, these earnings have allowed successful shamans to move into affluent areas, further cementing their influence and attracting an even higher-caliber clientele.

SW was a striking figure — draped in flowing traditional garments with intricate embroidery, her presence commanded the room. Her sharp, piercing eyes contrasted with a warm and knowing smile, creating an air of mystique and authority. When she spoke, her voice was steady and assured.

When Howdy Korea host Yasmin asked about her future, what followed was an hour-long reading, during which we observed a striking pattern: rather than focusing solely on the future, much of the session revolved around acknowledging past hardships.

"You must have endured three years of difficulty and hardships, but it is now over," SW told her.

Having a stranger recognize one's struggles can be unexpectedly cathartic. SW also showed deep empathy for Yasmin's experience as a foreigner in Korea, acknowledging the unique challenges she faces. As the reading continued, the cast and crew found themselves wiping away tears. Beyond her insights, SW repeatedly projected to Yasmin an unwavering confidence in the future — one that few people can show.

"You will succeed. You are capable. Trust yourself," she assured Yasmin.

One of the most striking moments of the session was when SW guided Yasmin through a hypnotic ritual meant to reveal her past life. As Yasmin slipped into a deep trance, she later claimed she felt completely paralyzed, unable to move. SW repeatedly told her during the session, "You can do it." When Yasmin hesitated to say what SW had instructed — whether out of fear or an unseen boundary she was reluctant to cross — SW firmly insisted she affirm it to herself.

"Tell yourself you can do it," she urged.

Yasmin, overwhelmed by emotion, broke down in tears.

It is not often that someone declares such certainty in another's abilities. This fortune-telling session, steeped in empathy and encouragement, carried a therapeutic effect. After filming wrapped, the Howdy Korea host, still dabbing at her eyes, said, "I feel lighter, both in body and heart."

Before the HowdyKorea team left, our final question was why she believes Koreans are turning to shamanism now more than ever.

SW gave a small sigh.

"It's anxiety," she said. "If everything in their lives was fine, they wouldn't need to visit me. The economy is spiraling downward, and that uncertainty makes people anxious about their future. So they come to me."

In Korea, shamanism functions as more than just an ancient religious practice — it serves as a form of therapy and guidance. Its endurance over millennia suggests that Mu is not merely a relic of the past but a source of emotional support in a fast-changing world. Perhaps that is why, despite modernity's relentless march forward, Korean shamanism continues to thrive.