What do you get when a man with the world’s most dangerous dimples comes to Manila? A Romantic Sunday, of course! Outside the Smart Araneta Coliseum, Seonhohadas had already been waiting – some for hours, some in a sense, for two years – lined up and gushing to their pals or loved ones about how, in just a few hours, they would finally see him in the flesh.
The air inside felt no different once the doors opened: the kind of humming, barely-contained anticipation only happens when a room full of people is about to see someone they’ve loved from a distance, finally up close.
Once the lights went off, the whole Dome screamed on the top of their lungs – as the host Sam Oh built up the excitement, there he was, Hong-Banjjang himself. Up close, Kim Seonho is a lot to take in: tall in a way that catches you off guard, eyes that actually sparkle (facts only), and dimples so deep they could give the Marianas Trench a run for its money.
Manila had been waiting. And it was not quiet about it.
Welcome to the Love Factory
The fan meet, titled ‘Love Factory,’ was built around an irresistible concept of the same name, with Kim Seonho at the helm as its Factory Manager. The night opened with a challenge – Seonho had to prove his identity by striking four poses that served as the factory’s password. Dear reader, it was too cute. Criminally, unfairly cute.
Once his identity was confirmed and his valued customers were satisfied, the tour of the ‘factory’ began in earnest. The first stop was the Reception Area, where Seonho entertained questions, inquiries, and special requests from fans. As Factory Manager, he was clear about his top priority: the happiness of every single person in that room.
It was also here that one fan became the unofficial highlight reel of the evening. Seonho had noticed her shouting whenever the hall fell too quiet – the kind of instinctive fan energy that fills every lull. He found it funny enough to call it out, but added with a grin: ‘Not yet. I’ll give you a signal.’ The crowd roared. The fan, presumably, took note.
In the Laboratory
The tour continued to the Laboratory, where various scenarios were presented for Seonho to act out. In each one, he leaned into the preferences and sentiments of his fans – matching their energy, playing into their fantasies, and doing it all with the kind of effortless charm that has made him one of the most beloved actors of his generation.
He also showed off his Tagalog – shyly, carefully, the way someone does when they’ve genuinely put in the work and want to get it right. The line that brought the house down? ‘I kept practicing, Hindi ka mamamatay, hindi ka mamamatay – but my teacher told me to do it again.’ The crowd lost it. For those who’ve seen The Childe, this lands with a little extra weight: Seonho delivers that very line in the film – ‘Hoy pre, ngumiti ka naman diyan. Hindi ka mamamatay. Ako’ng bahala sa’yo’ – and having watched it, one can only guess the teacher flagged his pronunciation of mam-tay over the full mamamatay. Whatever the note was, he took it. He delivered on screen. And the fact that he practiced hard enough to laugh about it in front of thousands? That’s its own kind of endearing.
Then came the moment that sent the Dome into full kilig overdrive. One of the segment questions posed a choice: if you were to love a life-risking love, would you want (a) a love that sacrifices for you until the end, or (b) a love that fights for you until the end? Seonho did not simply answer. He performed. For option (a), he looked straight ahead and said, with full feeling: ‘Gusto mo, ibibigay ko ang buhay ko sa’yo?’ And for option (b), the twist no one saw coming: ‘Gusto mo, ibibigay ko ang buhay niya sa’yo?’ The Dome erupted. Talk about a live K-drama moment – Manila Seonhohadas got the whole scene, dimples and all.
It was during this segment that fans were reminded of something they already knew but loved to see confirmed: Kim Seonho cries naturally. No performance, no exaggeration – just genuine emotion, worn openly, the way only a few actors can manage. When it happened, the Dome responded in kind. Some fans teared up alongside him. Others simply stared, a little undone.
Between segments, Seonho took a short break while fans enjoyed a witty VCR that played up the Factory Manager concept – complete with goals, mission and vision statements, and an overview of factory operations. It was too short, honestly. He was so adorable in it that rewatching it on loop would have been a perfectly valid life choice. Then came the outfit change – which, for the record, caused its own separate wave of swooning across the Dome, because of course it did – and the final segment of the night was underway.
Materials Storage: Missions, Mayhem, and the Boom Shakalaka
As host Sam Oh delivered her lines, red light flooded the stage, and an alarm rang out: the factory was running low on materials. Factory Manager Kim Seonho had work to do.
The missions that followed were a masterclass in Seonho being Seonho – full of giggles, game for everything, and completely, endearingly himself throughout. The crowd favorite was undoubtedly the Boom Shakalaka Dance Challenge. He nailed a test run on the very first try. Sam Oh, tempting fate, quipped: ‘It would be funny if he did it with the music and then [the stuffed toy] doesn’t get in the bag.’ Seonho’s head shook with an immediate response: ‘Don’t say that.’
Sam’s words, as it turned out, were prophetic. The stuffed toy missed the bag. The Dome erupted. Seonho tried his best to hold back his laughter – and failed magnificently, dimples on full display. In the crowd, there were exactly two kinds of people: those who swooned and those who cheered him on at the top of their lungs. There was no third option, no in between. The middle ground had simply ceased to exist.
He also tried his hand at Tumbang Preso, the Filipino street game – and went into full, laser-focused concentration mode. Whether it was sheer determination or the fact that the crowd was roaring him forward the entire time (probably both, if we’re being honest), he powered through it like a man on a mission. Then came What’s in the Box – possibly the funniest moment of the night. Seonho’s face traveled from sheer panic to a very visible ‘Wait, I got scared because of this?’, leaving the audience in delighted chaos.
With all missions cleared, Factory Manager Kim Seonho and his Seonhohadas had earned their reward: watching the Aurora Borealis together – a nod to a memorable scene from Can This Love be Translated? The lights shifted into bright, sweeping colors, and confetti fell softly onto the stage. It was romantic in the quiet way that only the best fan meet moments are: no grand declaration needed. Just the lights, the music, and the feeling of being exactly where you were supposed to be.
Something to Remember
Before the night drew to a close, Seonhohadas had one more gift for their Factory Manager: a surprise VCR, prepared by fans, just for him. Seonho watched it, visibly moved – the kind of emotion he doesn’t hide, the kind his fans have come to love him for.
In the video, a little boy appeared. Seonho remembered him immediately – and looked for him in the crowd. The boy was there. Seonho found him and thanked him, personally, for being his fan. The Dome went very still for a moment, the way a room does when something real is happening.
He also thanked his fans broadly, for making him their inspiration – and what struck those in attendance was that he wasn’t just saying it. He meant it. He spoke about drawing strength from their support, about not taking it for granted. Coming from someone who has had to rebuild, that kind of gratitude lands differently. It settles. And then, in the language of the country that had waited two years for him: ‘Mahal ko po kayong lahat. Magkita po tayo ulit.’
The final act of the night was the Hi-Bye Session – no photos, no videos, just Seonho, up close, for a few seconds at a time. It was enough. Maybe more than enough. Some fans squealed after. Some teared up. And some stood quietly afterward, not quite ready to let the feeling go, pressing the moment into memory like a page in a journal they’d return to again and again.
Kim Seonho’s Love Factory didn’t just deliver on its promise. It gave Manila something to carry home – the warmth of a man who laughs easily, cries openly, and makes every single person in a 20,000-seat arena feel, somehow, like the most valued customer in the room.