Korean Numbers: How to Count in Both Systems

Korean numbers 1-10 in both systems

Start with the two tables below and the rest of this lesson clicks into place. Sino-Korean numbers are short single syllables borrowed from Chinese centuries ago. Native Korean numbers are longer, older, and purely Korean.

Romanization here follows Revised Romanization, the official system from the National Institute of Korean Language and the one on South Korean road signs. It spells sounds rather than letters, so a few rows look surprising until you read them aloud.

Sino-Korean numbers 1-10

Native Korean numbers 1-10

In that second table, 하나 shows up as 한, 둘 as 두, 셋 as 세, and 넷 as 네. That shape-shift gets its own section below, and it's the single most common beginner slip.

Zero has two words, by the way. 영 (yeong) is the general one, and 공 (gong) is what Koreans say for digits in a phone number, so 010 reads as 공일공 (gong-il-gong).

Korean numbers 11 to 100

The teens

Both systems build the teens the same way: ten, then the next digit. Sino-Korean stacks 십 (sip) in front, native Korean stacks 열 (yeol). No new words to memorize.

Some romanizations look nothing like the spelling, which is the point of a pronunciation-based system. 십육 is written 십 plus 육 but leaves the mouth as [심뉵] (simnyuk), and 열여섯 comes out as [열려섣] (yeollyeoseot). Korean slips an n-sound in before those y-vowels, then softens it into an l.

Counting by tens: 20 to 100

Here the systems stop resembling each other. Sino-Korean keeps stacking (two-ten, three-ten), while native Korean has a separate, unrelated word for every ten.

That final row carries the biggest rule on this page. Native Korean numbers stop at 99. Past that, Sino-Korean takes over completely, with no exceptions. Archaic native words for 100 and 1,000 did exist, 온 and 즈믄, but no modern speaker counts with them.

Two honest notes. The native tens are irregular, so those nine words are nine separate memorizations. And younger speakers increasingly reach for Sino-Korean in the 60-to-90 range, which makes 예순 and 아흔 sound dated to some ears. Learn them for listening, then don't panic when you hear 육십 instead.

When to use Sino-Korean vs native Korean numbers

This is the table to bookmark. Choose the wrong system and a Korean will still understand you, but it lands the way 'I have three-th apples' lands in English.

A rough gut check gets you through most sentences. If the number measures something on a fixed scale, like a calendar, a price tag, or the minutes on a clock face, reach for Sino-Korean. If you're tallying things you could point at, or naming a human quantity like an age or an hour, reach for native Korean. The heuristic leaks in places, which is exactly why the table exists. It is also the kind of rule a course has to explain rather than drill, and our roundup of the best apps to learn Korean ranks eight of them on exactly that.

Telling the time: both systems in one sentence

Korean clock time is the cleanest proof that you need both systems, because a single reading uses one of each. The hour takes native Korean with the counter 시 (si). The minutes take Sino-Korean with the counter 분 (bun).

3:30 is 세 시 삼십 분 (se si samsip bun). Read it slowly: 세 is native three, 시 marks the hour, 삼십 is Sino thirty, 분 marks the minutes. Swap the systems around and it stops sounding like Korean.

Two shortcuts real speakers lean on: 반 (ban) means 'half', so 세 시 반 (se si ban) is an everyday 3:30, and 오전 (ojeon) and 오후 (ohu) mark morning and afternoon in front of the hour, as in 오후 두 시 (ohu du si) for 2 p.m. To ask the time, say 몇 시예요? (myeot siyeyo?). 몇 (myeot) means 'how many' and takes a counter just like a number does.

하나 becomes 한: the four forms that change

Here's the mistake nearly every beginner makes. When a native Korean number sits directly in front of a counter, the first four numbers drop a syllable, and 스물 loses its final consonant.

Every other native number keeps its full shape: 다섯 개, 여섯 명, 일곱 시, 여덟 권, 아홉 마리, 열 개.

The rule follows the number into compounds. Twelve o'clock is 열두 시 (yeoldu si), never 열둘 시, because 둘 is still the piece touching the counter. Twenty-one people is 스물한 명 (seumulhan myeong), not 스물하나 명.

With nothing after the number, the full forms come back: 하나, 둘, 셋, 넷 (hana, dul, set, net). That's what you hear in a workout video or before someone takes a photo.

Korean counters: 단위 명사

Korean won't let you attach a number straight onto a noun. A counter word (단위 명사, danwi myeongsa) has to sit between them, the way English says 'two slices of bread' or 'three sheets of paper'.

The word order is noun, then number, then counter.

Every counter in that table takes native Korean numbers. 분 has a twin that doesn't: the same syllable also counts minutes, and that one is Sino-Korean. So 세 분 is three people said politely, while 삼 분 is three minutes.

Two more you'll reach for within a week: 잔 (jan) for cups and glasses, as in 커피 두 잔 (keopi du jan, two coffees), and 층 (cheung) for building floors, which runs on Sino-Korean numbers: 삼 층 (sam cheung, third floor).

One piece of trivia that helps 개 stick: 개 is also the native word for 'dog'. And if a counter escapes you mid-sentence, 개 still gets you understood in most shops.

Big numbers group in fours, not threes

English chops large figures into groups of three: thousand, million, billion. Korean chops them into groups of four, and the hinge is 만 (man), meaning 10,000. Chinese and Japanese do exactly the same thing, so if you've already met Japanese numbers, this will feel like home.

Row four is where English speakers stall. Korean has no word for 'hundred thousand'; you say 'ten ten-thousands', 십만. A million isn't one word either, it's 백만. Korean prices are the best drill going, since a 15,000 won lunch is 만 오천 원 (man ocheon won).

Spelling and sound part ways again here. 십만 is written with 십 but pronounced [심만], and 백만 comes out as [뱅만], because Korean assimilates that final consonant into the following ㅁ.

One quirk to file away: you don't say 일 in front of 백, 천, or 만, so ten thousand won is simply 만 원 (man won). From 억 upward you do, making 100 million 일억 (ireok), never a bare 억.

Korean age: what the 2023 law changed

Age used to be the messiest number topic in Korean, and it recently got much simpler. For centuries Korea ran on 세는 나이 (seneun nai), 'counting age': you were one year old the day you were born, and everyone gained a year together on January 1. A baby born on December 31 turned two the next morning.

That is no longer the default. South Korea's National Assembly passed the bill in December 2022, and on June 28, 2023 만 나이 (man nai), the international age the rest of the world uses, became the legal standard for documents, contracts, and administration. Most South Koreans got a year or two younger on paper overnight.

One system survives in the corners: 연 나이 (yeon nai), 'year age', the current year minus your birth year. It governs alcohol and tobacco sales, military conscription, and school entry, so a Korean can honestly hold two correct ages at once.

None of that touches the grammar. Age still takes native Korean numbers plus 살 (sal) in speech: 스무 살 (seumu sal), 서른 살 (seoreun sal). The formal Sino-Korean version pairs 세 (se) with Sino numbers on forms and in news reports, as in 이십 세 (isip se). To ask, say 몇 살이에요? (myeot sarieyo?).

Pronunciation notes that trip up beginners

Korean numbers change shape when they collide with other syllables. Three patterns cover almost all of it.

육 (6) is the shape-shifter. Alone it's yuk. Inside 십육 (16) it becomes [심뉵] (simnyuk), because Korean inserts an n before the y and the ㅂ of 십 assimilates into ㅁ. In the name of June it drops its final consonant: 6월 is 유월 (yuwol), not 육월.

십 (10) loses its ㅂ in October. 10월 is 시월 (siwol), not 십월. June and October are the only months that break the pattern, so learn them as a pair. Every other month behaves: 삼월 (samwol) March, 사월 (sawol) April, 구월 (guwol) September.

Final consonants stop, they don't release. The ㅅ closing 셋 (set), 넷 (net), 다섯 (daseot), and 여섯 (yeoseot) is never an s sound. It's an unreleased t: your tongue arrives behind your teeth and stays there. 여덟 goes further and drops its final ㅂ, so it's 'yeo-deol'.

One finishing touch: numbers ending in ㄹ or a stop tense whatever follows, so 열둘 comes out as [열뚤] and 육십 as [육씹]. Skipping that won't get you misunderstood, but copying it stops you sounding like a textbook.

Learn Hangul, and these tables double in value

Every Korean word above is written in Hangul (한글), the friendliest writing system a beginner will ever meet. King Sejong's scholars designed it deliberately in the 1440s and published it in 1446, so it's one of the very few alphabets with a birthday and an instruction manual.

Modern South Korean Hangul uses 24 basic letters: 14 consonants and 10 vowels, grouped into square syllable blocks, so 한 is really ㅎ plus ㅏ plus ㄴ in one tidy box. Plenty of learners read it slowly after a single afternoon, which nobody claims about Japanese katakana or Chinese characters. The Wikipedia overview of Hangul is a good free starting point.

A 10-minute drill. Count 하나 to 열 out loud, then 일 to 십. Now count what's around you with 개: 의자 두 개 (uija du gae, two chairs), 컵 세 개 (keop se gae, three cups). Finish by saying the current time, native hour and Sino minutes.

The US Foreign Service Institute groups Korean with the hardest languages for English speakers at roughly 2,200 class hours, and the hardest languages to learn list shows why. Numbers repay that effort faster than anything else on the list. The Korean hub has the rest of the beginner track.