On Saturday, the heart of Seoul turned into a sea of purple.
It was splashed across landmarks, towering billboards, giant screens on high-rises, posters, masks and t-shirts. It was in the display of drone lights on the Han River.
The reason for it was impossible to miss.
“Welcome back BTS,” a banner on a 7-Eleven declared, surrounded by the K-pop act’s signature colour. The world’s biggest band was returning to the stage – after a break of more than three years because of mandatory military service.
“BTS is everything for us,” says Veronica, who along with her friend Amanda flew in from the US to catch Saturday’s show.
The concert was yet to begin. Members RM, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, Jimin, V and Jung Kook had not made an appearance, but already, BTS was everywhere.
The megastars of pop were back.
And their “Army”, as their legions of fans call themselves, was ready – happy, singing, screaming, light-sticks in hand. These props can be seen at every K-pop concert but the big bands have their own.
Amanda and Veronica had them too. They wore wide grins and matching purple hanbok, the traditional Korean dress.
The band’s break is what made them seek out other members of the Army. “That’s how we met,” Amanda says.
But it had been a difficult three years, they added, spent yearning for the band to come back.
Finally, the wait was over.
As the sun faded, the square thumped with screams of the crowd. Fans erupted into chants of the seven members’ names.
Then the noise fell away as a deep, resonant toll of the Divine Bell of King Seongdeok rose – a part of “Number 29”, a track in BTS’s new album Arirang.
It rolled across Gwanghwamun Square, lingering – heavy and deliberate – grounding the spectacle in something that felt far older.
And then the seven K-pop stars appeared in front of the medieval gateway to the palace. “Annyeonghaseyo (hello),” the band’s leader RM greeted fans in Korean, before switching to English: “We are back.”
They walked to an impromptu stadium the city had set up in the middle of the square and climbed onto the stage, which resembled a triumphal arch.
It was a striking prelude to “Body to Body”, the album’s first full track, interwoven with Korea’s most iconic folk song and the album’s namesake, Arirang.
As the music swelled, the stage was washed in deep red. The comeback was under way.
And it seemed to win over an uncertain Kim Young-hee: “When I first listened to the album, I thought it was a bit harder to digest than their previous releases, but after seeing them perform live, I realised that BTS never disappoints us.”
There had been growing curiosity about the setlist. While the focus was expected to be on new material, many wondered whether the group would revisit the hits that defined their global rise.
And they did – with “Butter”, “MIC Drop”, “Dynamite” and “Mikrokosmos” igniting instant recognition, lifting the crowd into a shared, euphoric chorus.
Thousands of light-sticks shifted colour in the dark, moving in rhythm and revealing the size of the crowd, which had filled the square.
It was far below the 250,000 authorities had said they were expecting. But it was certainly in the tens of thousands.
Seoul had gone big for this moment, turning its centre into a giant K-pop stage for the first time ever.
Inspired by the South Korean flag, the stage stood with the Gwanghwamun gate as its backdrop, framed by the mountains – a strikingly Seoul scene.
“I’m deeply honoured to perform at Gwanghwamun, the most historic place in South Korea,” Suga said. “We named the album Arirang and chose Gwanghwamun as the venue to reflect our identity.”
It was a rare honour. And the band knew it, taking turns to thank the city and its officials.
But the decision had also drawn criticism. People questioned the need to direct so many resources – the public space, the thousands of police for crowd and safety management – for a show streamed live exclusively on Netflix.
“They’ve pulled in police and fire personnel en masse. If something happens elsewhere, there may be no staff left to respond, and access could be blocked because of the controls,” one user wrote on X.
In another post, pop music critic Jung Min-jae said: “If a comeback concert of this scale, one that effectively paralyses parts of the city centre, is allowed, then other artists or agencies may well request to use the same space in the future.
“At that point, on what criteria will the Seoul Metropolitan Government approve or reject such requests?”
But the government argued this was BTS, returning to reclaim their spot at the top of an industry that has shaped them as much as they have shaped it.
The band exploded after its debut in 2013. Their albums – a mix of pop, hip hop and R&B – have hit the number one spot in the Billboard charts multiple times, while their choreographed performances have packed stadiums around the world.
They were the first K-pop group to headline at Wembley – they “broke the wall”, as RM himself put it.
BTS, which has addressed the UN and been invited to the White House, has become the face of South Korea’s soft power.
So this remarkable, slightly contentious, comeback party is a reflection of the band’s place in South Korean minds, according to music critic Lim Hee-yun.
Although South Korea was now one of the world’s wealthiest nations, the country at times had felt culturally inferior to the West, Lim said.
“Then we saw blue-eyed Westerners, tens of thousands of them gathered in a stadium. Crying and singing along to BTS. It’s the ultimate kookbbong,” he said, referring to a Korean saying comparing intense national pride to drugs.
Be it hiatus or retirement, they would remain legendary, according to Lim: “Like the Beatles.”
On Saturday, it was clear how the high the stakes were – for the band, which was returning to so much expectation and hype, but also the government, which had provided a stage it hoped would boost South Korea’s global brand.
There were 22,000 free seats available inside the concert venue, in front of the stage. The other spectators watched the show on a dozen screens installed further down the road, all the way to the main thoroughfare blocks away.
Many were foreigners. Some told the BBC they had flown thousands of miles just to watch BTS on screen, if not on stage. Some had begun learning Korean, and even moved here, after joining the fandom.
K-pop fandom is unlike any other, and BTS is perhaps the biggest example of that.
“This comeback, after so many years, means a lot to me,” said Golnar Taheri, who has been a fan since the debut of BTS thirteen years ago. “I feel like I can live my life with more energy.”
Throughout the show, the seven K-pop stars thanked the “Army” again and again.
“Thank you for waiting, Army,” Jin declared, slipping into English.
The fans had their own message: screams, cheers, tears. Many of those who turned up today couldn’t wait for more. “It was a crazy experience…It was just like a dream, and I can’t still believe it [happened],” Azadeh Zamani said.
A grand world tour follows: 34 stops and 88 shows, which is expected to rake in billions of dollars in revenue.
