Agriculture, light manufacturing, and a massive rail junction keep the local economy afloat, but nobody moves to Iksan for a career. Foreigners here mostly teach English at hagwons or public schools; that's the whole expat job market, and it hasn't grown in years. If you bring your own remote gig, though, you'll find 195 Mbps internet and a dirt-cheap base of operations. Your monthly outlay beyond rent settles around $950, and a decent one-bedroom in the center costs $550. A crime index of 17 means you're not going to sweat walking home late at night, either.
Housing is affordable but not glamorous; expect linoleum floors and the occasional boiler replacement you'll have to negotiate in broken Korean. Buses are reliable and Gunsan's airport sits just 30 km out, so escapes to Jeju or Seoul are easy, but you'll need to tolerate the two-hour bus ride to catch a flight. Healthcare is competent and cheap once you're insured, but finding an English-speaking doctor without a local contact can be a two-day headache. Immigration and banking require patience and a Korean speaker at your elbow; the city is small enough that the staff might remember you, which is both good and bad. Assume almost no English beyond the university district, and even then, it's sparse.
Iksan rewards a very specific person: the frugal retiree who wants a quiet, safe routine, or the remote worker who genuinely doesn't need an expat social circle to stay sane. If you're a first-time English teacher trying to save a pile of money while learning Korean, it works, but you'll be isolated. The food scene is underrated and the cost of living is absurdly low, so your wallet will love it. However, anyone craving international dining, a dating scene, or a place where you can float through life in English should strike Iksan off the list immediately. You come here to disappear for a while, not to find a community.