Lee Dong Wook returned for his fan meeting in Manila and turned one rainy night into something unforgettable, reminding fans why his presence feels sincere, warm, and deeply human.
Manila was not a planned stop. I have been traveling for almost a month, and I was really looking forward to going back home to Europe to spend the holidays. But the moment this fan meeting was announced, I knew I couldn’t skip it. And so, the detour landed on my boss’s desk, and I flew.
Because some fan meetings feel like events. This one felt like a moment.
Manila’s rain welcomed Lee Dong Wook for his My Sweet Home fan meeting, held at The Theatre at Solaire.
From the first step on stage, the tone was clear. This was not about spectacle. It was about closeness.
No rush. No distance.
Just time shared between an actor and the people who have walked alongside his career for years
It took him years to return to his Filipino Neohee (Lee Dong Wook’s fandom).
A Different Kind of Night at the Lee Dong Wook Fan Meeting in Manila
The theatre filled early. Soft chatter. Light sticks. Phones ready, but hearts even more so. Fans came prepared, yet unsure what to expect. Many fan meetings promise intimacy. Few deliver it.
Lee Dong Wook did.
He spoke calmly. He listened; and laughed easily. His humour landed not as performance, but as instinct. He teased the crowd gently. And, he paused when emotions rose. He let silence breathe when it mattered.
There was no sense of hierarchy. No invisible wall.
It felt less like watching someone you admire and more like sitting across from someone you trust.
It was a conversation between him and his fans in the comfort of his home.
Hosted by Sam Oh, who served as the interviewer, with a bit too much and too loud of fangirling vibes that sometimes unsettled the actor. In events like this, less is more, and composure becomes gold. The translator was a crowd, and mine’s favorite: he could have hosted on his own right.
A Global Crowd, One Shared Feeling
One of the most striking things about the Manila stop was the crowd itself. It was deeply international
Elisa flew in from Italy.
“I still can’t believe I’m here,” she said, shaking her head and smiling at the same time. “I’ve followed him for so long. Seeing him in person, hearing his voice live… it doesn’t feel real yet.”
She wasn’t alone.
Ari and Lily travelled together from Malaysia. They queued early, phones already full of notes and photos from past dramas.
“We decided this trip around him,” Lily told me. “We planned everything around this night.”
Manila Fans, Leading with Warmth
Local fans set the tone for the night in ways that went far beyond cheering.
Joy, Cherry, Jooly, and Maris, all from Manila, naturally took on the role of hosts. They helped international fans find seats and explained the announcements. They shared snacks, chargers, and smiles.
No one asked them to. They just did it.
“This is how we welcome people here,” Cherry said simply. “We’re happy you came.”
Maris added, “We’re all fans first. Borders don’t matter today.” She continued, “He feels very sincere. Some actors are charming on screen. He feels kind in real life.”
That word came up again and again. Kind.
Not polished. Not perfect. Kind.
And it showed.
There was a sense of care in the room. A collective understanding that this night mattered to everyone, in different ways, for different reasons.
When the Rain Almost Won the Moment
Outside the theatre, the city struggled.
Manila was battered by heavy rain that day. Roads flooded. Traffic slowed to a crawl. Some fans feared they wouldn’t make it at all.
Hazel was one of them.
She arrived late to the event, soaked, exhausted, breathless. She barely had time to find her seat before she saw him on stage.
“When I finally walked in and saw him, I cried,” she said, eyes still glassy hours later. “I thought I missed everything. I was already preparing myself to go home.”
She didn’t miss it.
“And then he smiled,” Hazel continued. “I don’t know how to explain it. All the stress disappeared.”
For her, and many others, that moment alone made the day worth it.
And when all hopes of seeing up close seemed to be lost forever, Hazel got to see me while leaving the theater.
Fully Present, Fully Sincere
Lee Dong Wook didn’t rush the program. He let moments stretch when the audience reacted strongly. He responded to fan energy rather than controlling it.
Further, he talked about comfort. About finding spaces where he can breathe. About how fans have become part of that space for him.
At one point, he joked that he felt more relaxed as the night went on. The crowd laughed, but the truth sat underneath it. This wasn’t an obligation for him. It felt like a pause.
Games were played. Questions were answered. Small interactions sparked big reactions. A glance. A laugh. A hand wave. A few words spoken directly to one person in a room of thousands.
Those are the moments fans replay later.
Some won stage selfies with him, some others captured his imagination more. Even the fans’ outfits were curated: a full dress with his face on it, white boots he teased were suitable given the weather, and some wore wedding veils.
Tears, laughter, and the quiet in between
There were loud cheers. There were screams. But there were also quiet moments.
Moments when the room held its breath.
Moments when you could hear someone sniffle two rows away.
For some fans, this meeting closed a long chapter of waiting. Meanwhile, for others, it marked survival through hard years. And, for many, it was simply proof that admiration can still feel human.
“I didn’t expect to cry,” Jooly admitted. “But when he thanked us, it just hit me.”
Joy said something similar. “It felt like he saw us. Not just fans. People.”
Why Manila mattered
Every tour stop has its own personality.
Manila’s was unmistakable.
The warmth was immediate. The response was loud but respectful. The emotional connection felt mutual.
Lee Dong Wook acknowledged it more than once. He thanked fans for waiting, for travelling, for braving the weather. He spoke about how energy travels both ways.
And it did.
From the front row to the balcony, the night moved like a shared pulse.
By the end, the title My Sweet Home made complete sense.
This wasn’t about promoting a project.
It wasn’t about rehearsed lines.
It was about presence.
For one night, the theatre became a space where distance collapsed. Where strangers hugged. Where fans from different countries felt like part of the same story.
As people filed out slowly, no one rushed. Phones stayed up, replaying clips. Conversations overlapped in different languages.
“I don’t want it to end,” Maris said quietly.
Elisa stood nearby, already planning how to explain the night to friends back home. “I don’t think words will be enough,” she laughed.
Hazel wiped her eyes one last time before leaving. “I made it,” she said. “That’s all that matters.”
A ‘Lee Dong Wook Night in Manila’ That Will Stay
Fan meetings end.
Feelings don’t.
Manila didn’t just host Lee Dong Wook. It held him, briefly, gently, and let him go with love.
And for everyone in that room, My Sweet Home will never just be a tour title again.
The tour will bring him all over the world, including South America, but the one at The Solaire will always be that night when Lee Dong Wook serenaded Manila with “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas”.
Salamat Wookdongi.
Salamat Neohee.
And, salamat Manila for allowing me to witness your warmth and for giving a writer a story that was worth traveling for.
Join us on Kpoppost’s Instagram, Threads, Facebook, X, Telegram channel, WhatsApp Channel and Discord server for discussions. And follow Kpoppost’s Google News for more Korean entertainment news and updates.
