May 21
We woke up to the news of a major yakuza battle tearing through Tokyo overnight. Can’t say I was surprised, given the tension in the air after last night’s “private” party at Yuuki’s estate. Sayuri Ishikawa’s appearance and the Yakuza’s growing presence made it feel like something was brewing. Maybe it’s just coincidence… but who really believes in coincidences in this line of work?
Regardless, we’ve got bigger things to focus on. Packed up and left for Seoul today. The flight was smooth, and the whole team was in decent spirits, though I can’t shake the feeling that we’re heading into unknown territory. There’s always some tension when entering a new city, but Seoul’s got an energy to it that I haven’t quite figured out yet. Halo, though, seemed distant—distracted even.
May 22-23
It’s not often I see Halo struggle with anything, but Seoul had her grasping at straws. The usual prep, the meet-and-greets, the rehearsals—none of it seemed to land with her. The essence of the place wasn’t clicking, and for the first time, she seemed to doubt her ability to truly connect with the crowd here.
Against my better judgment, I found myself suggesting she break free. No detail, no preplanning. I actually OK’d letting her spread her wings and fly—literally. I never thought I’d be the one giving the green light to something so reckless, but sometimes you’ve got to tear up the script to get to the heart of things. She needed this.
What followed was two days of absolute chaos. Halo, free from the usual constraints, turned Seoul upside down. She took to the skies, flying from place to place, giving impromptu concerts all over the city. One minute she was soaring over the Han River, and the next she was performing in front of a small, bewildered crowd in some forgotten alley.
Poor security. Blink, Slag, and I were running ragged trying to keep up with her. Meanwhile, her management team was in meltdown mode—unscripted performances, freely giving away corporate IP, no pre-approvals, no control. If it wasn’t so ridiculous, I’d have laughed. But here’s the thing: Seoul loved it. The spontaneity, the raw energy, the feeling that they were getting something real, something unscripted—it was the connection she had been looking for, even if it made my job ten times harder.
Even the local cops were in an uproar. They hated every minute of it, and I can’t blame them. No one likes a city-wide scavenger hunt for a global star who refuses to stay put. I’ll admit it worked, though. As much as I hate chaos, this was the right move.
May 24
The concert. Seoul had been primed by two days of impromptu magic, and by the time the official concert rolled around, the anticipation was through the roof. Halo didn’t disappoint. She delivered a performance that was twice as long as advertised and packed with 110% energy from start to finish.
It was like a tidal wave of emotion, energy, and sound crashing over the audience again and again. The crowd was so overwhelmed that hundreds—maybe even thousands—of them needed medical attention during and after the concert. Exhaustion, dehydration, the sheer emotional weight of it all.
And it wasn’t just the crowd. Halo pushed herself to the limit and beyond. By the end of it, she was spent, completely drained. We had to carry her out of the arena, barely conscious, and get her to the hotel. I’ve seen her deliver unforgettable performances before, but this… this was something else. Something primal. Something that demanded everything she had—and more.
Seoul got its star, and it nearly killed her. But I suppose that’s the price of greatness.
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