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| Photo provided by Wilbros Live |
Fan meets are supposed to make the audience feel kilig. But Lee Jun Hyuk’s Let Me In in Manila offered more than the giddiness and the scripted fan service.
I can still recall the first time I saw the announcement for this event. I remember reposting it. At that time, I wasn’t sure how I would go, or if I would write it as a journalist, a fan, or both. But after watching him in Love Scout, I got pulled into his energy. It seemed stable and soulful. I almost didn’t attend because I was coming straight from work. But something in me knew I had to be there.
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| Poster from Wilbros Live |
Truth be told, I only watched Love Scout. While the internet can quickly give me a rundown of his career, I saw that show at a time when I needed to believe that true love, the mature kind, is rooted in choice and follow-through. That you are never too old or too complicated to be loved back. Now 41, Jun Hyuk’s acting in that drama gave his character, Yoo Eun-ho, a depth and realism that felt familiar. Like someone we work with. Or a neighbor. Or a friend.
When I arrived at the Newport Performing Arts Theater last June 29, I was greeted by a huge photowall, where supporters patiently lined up to take their pictures. Tables were set up, arranged by tier with clear signage, and alert staff and ushers guided everyone smoothly. Beside it stood a small board where guests could leave post-its, each carrying messages of warmth for the actor.
As I walked through the waiting area, a few attendees handed me freebies. I told them I was writing about the event and asked what makes Lee Jun Hyuk different. And these supporters, who flew in from the US, Hong Kong, Korea, Dubai, Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, Taiwan, Japan, and other parts of the Philippines, said the same thing: Jun Hyuk is hardworking, and his actions are heartfelt.
Like most fan gatherings, the show was divided into segments. Moderated by actress and host Denise Laurel, Jun Hyuk went on and off stage several times, changed outfits, and spoke on many things: from a book he wrote in memory of his dog to behind-the-scenes TMI about the most iconic scenes in Love Scout.
But more than the event’s thoughtful structure: the carefully selected background music, the comfortable seating, the immersive lights and effects, the games that created new memories, and the real-time translations delivered with emotion, what lingered was Jun Hyuk’s generosity.
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| Photo provided by Wilbros Live |
Despite the language barrier, he noticed everything: the fan in a shirt that reminded him of a past role, the one he recognized from earlier that day while walking around, the loyal supporter who had followed him to three different countries and now showed up again in Manila.
He carried fans. Hugged them. Took extra photos. Asked to draw more raffle winners than the script or director allowed. He read aloud a note that mentioned a member of his staff, and then pulled her onstage, so the audience could applaud her, too. So she could receive the recognition she quietly earned behind the scenes.
He listened. Genuinely.
And though he’s naturally reserved, his responses, the shy smiles, soft chuckles, quiet thank-yous, the subtle waves and hand hearts, were directed at the one he looked at fully, with both eyes meeting yours without hesitation.
He threw signed ping pong balls into the crowd, asked Denise to select more participants, and offered more skinship than most Korean fan events allow: handshakes, hugs, warmth without barriers. He even apologized gently for his throat not being at its best before singing Kim Dong-ryul’s “Like a Child,” even changing the last line to “Mahal kita.”
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| Photo provided by Wilbros Live |
I’ve been to many fan meets. But this… this felt different.
It was his presence, attentive, unforced, that made him magnetic. Rare.
In a world that often feels scripted or obsessed with polish, Lee Jun Hyuk brought something else entirely: warmth without condition. Honesty without performance.
This is the kind of intimacy that those who admire from afar rarely receive.
And writers like me almost never get to write about.
In a room full of lights and laughter, he has a way of drawing you in. Maybe because he earned his way to stardom, he understands how it feels to be truly seen. He feels like a slow-burn love story, told through eyes that recognize the person behind the cheers and the man behind the actor.
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| Photo provided by Wilbros Live |
I was surprised the press were even given access to hi-bye because we’re rarely included in moments like that. So there I was, standing quietly in line, with a digital writer and a social media manager, fully prepared to be invisible. I assumed his eyes would skim over us, a polite blur. But then he looked, really looked. His gaze met ours, intentional and unhurried.
Out of instinct, I offered him peace signs with both hands, shifting them back and forth in rhythm. And to my surprise, he mirrored the gesture. That’s when I knew: this wasn’t just a job for him. He may speak in Korean, but in that moment, he was fluent in something far more human… sincerity. We weren’t wearing IDs that said MEDIA. We were just part of the line, like everyone else. And yet he took the time. In those seconds, he let himself be present with us.
The event officially ended around 9 PM. But in the hours that followed, and even now, as I type these words, I realize I’ll be carrying Lee Jun Hyuk's warmth with me a little longer than expected.
Because that night, he Let Us In, not just into his world, but into a feeling we don’t often name: the comfort of being quietly chosen.
And maybe, just maybe, the stars didn’t just align.
They paused.
So we could remember what it means to belong.
I came to witness the actor behind Secretary Yoo Eun-ho. But somewhere between the stillness and his shining eyes, I am choosing to stay and stan Lee Jun Hyuk.
2025 Lee Jun Hyuk [Let Me In] Fan Meeting in Manila was presented by Wilbros Live.