K-pop’s biggest-ever comeback tour, the return of the super boyband BTS, has been hijacked by a dating scandal. How the US$9 billion industry handles the excesses of superfan culture would have an impact on the way the genre extends its footprint globally.
The controversy that has fired up a small, but vocal fandom centers on whether two of the industry’s biggest stars, Jungkook of BTS and Winter of aespa, are in a relationship. Just to be clear: Nobody is accused of any actual wrongdoing, but to some fervent devotees, dating is a crime. Idols are meant to stay single, at least publicly, to preserve the image of accessibility and provide blank slates for followers to project their fantasies — no matter how outlandish.
The unconfirmed rumors about Jungkook and Winter, dubbed Winkook, emerged months ago based on allegations the duo had matching bracelets and tattoos. The firestorm reached a crescendo last month when some fans reportedly sent a protest truck outside the Seoul offices of BTS’ agency Big Hit Music, a subsidiary of Hybe, calling for Jungkook to leave the group. Aespa’s management, SM Entertainment, was subjected to a similar demonstration.
The protests are not a new phenomenon. Performers are held to exceptionally high standards and have been forced to apologize for being romantically involved, and lest anyone unfamiliar with this subculture dismisses them as inconsequential fringe examples of the super fandom, many high-flying careers have been derailed by such revelations.
Bandmates HyunA and Dawn of Triple H were dropped by their agency Cube Entertainment in 2018 following the disclosure of their secret two-year relationship. Fans turned against EXO’s Chen when the singer announced that he was engaged and having a baby. Former Super Junior star Sungmin is trying to rebuild his career after going on hiatus for a decade due to a backlash because of his decision to marry.
Superfans’ reactions to “betrayal” by their favorite artists is rooted in the business model of K-pop, which emerged in the 1990s in South Korea. To put it simply, the industry was built around sales of physical albums targeting a small, but highly engaged fan base.
Rather than being famous purely for their talent and charisma, idols must connect emotionally with their fans to encourage the kind of parasocial relationships needed for sustained loyalty and album sales. Music companies have traditionally encouraged fans to buy multiple copies, sometimes more than 100, to have the chance to meet their idols in person.
However, as the genre matures and gains traction abroad, things are changing. The popularity of Netflix’s K-Pop Demon Hunters has considerably broadened its appeal. The return of BTS on the back of a US$1 billion tour could push K-pop toward an inflection point in the original business model. Instead of being driven largely by albums, segments such as concerts, streaming and merchandise sales are growing in importance.
This is especially important as album sales in South Korea stagnate. Domestic sales grew by 30 percent annually in the two decades to 2023, according to Macquarie Group. However, that expansion likely peaked in 2024, with revenues falling by 19 percent.
While the homegrown audience remains important, superfans might no longer be able to maintain the same financial stranglehold on the industry and artists. It is especially true when it comes to names such as BTS, with the biggest overseas fan bases — which would not punish their idols for anything as innocuous as dating. In fact, there is nothing like a feel-good celebrity romance — think Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce — to boost goodwill and engagement. Record labels should take notice.
Even when the Winkook scandal boiled over last month, the stars stayed mum. Eventually, both SM and Big Hit issued warnings threatening legal action against those spreading “malicious” rumors. The reaction was intended to dial down the drama in an echo of the British Royal Family’s unofficial “never complain, never explain” motto.
Hybe and SM Entertainment did not respond to requests for comment from Bloomberg Opinion.
Saying nothing though was a missed opportunity. Many dedicated-but-not-obsessive fans were confused by the silence. They expressed frustration with the apparent refusal to confront what they believed was a toxic and unfair controversy over what two consenting adults might be doing. Most BTS members are in their 30s. It seems ridiculous to be policing their personal lives.
A far better example of how to handle the scandal has already been set by members of Katseye, a global girl group trained in the K-pop ways by Hybe and US music label Geffen Records. Dogged by whispers of dating a rapper, singer Manon was allowed to cleverly end the speculation in her own voice.
The return of BTS is to speed up K-pop’s pivot toward serving a broader international audience. As the genre transitions, it should keep its best aspects — a unique sound, style of training and the way it engages with fans — intact, while ditching its worst. The boyband sings often about romance. They deserve to love freely and openly.
Juliana Liu is a columnist for Bloomberg Opinion’s Asia team, covering corporate strategy and management in the region. She was previously CNN’s senior business editor for Asia, and a correspondent at BBC News and Reuters. This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
Jan. 1 marks a decade since China repealed its one-child policy. Just 10 days before, Peng Peiyun (彭珮雲), who long oversaw the often-brutal enforcement of China’s family-planning rules, died at the age of 96, having never been held accountable for her actions. Obituaries praised Peng for being “reform-minded,” even though, in practice, she only perpetuated an utterly inhumane policy, whose consequences have barely begun to materialize. It was Vice Premier Chen Muhua (陳慕華) who first proposed the one-child policy in 1979, with the endorsement of China’s then-top leaders, Chen Yun (陳雲) and Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平), as a means of avoiding the
As the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) races toward its 2027 modernization goals, most analysts fixate on ship counts, missile ranges and artificial intelligence. Those metrics matter — but they obscure a deeper vulnerability. The true future of the PLA, and by extension Taiwan’s security, might hinge less on hardware than on whether the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) can preserve ideological loyalty inside its own armed forces. Iran’s 1979 revolution demonstrated how even a technologically advanced military can collapse when the social environment surrounding it shifts. That lesson has renewed relevance as fresh unrest shakes Iran today — and it should
The last foreign delegation Nicolas Maduro met before he went to bed Friday night (January 2) was led by China’s top Latin America diplomat. “I had a pleasant meeting with Qiu Xiaoqi (邱小琪), Special Envoy of President Xi Jinping (習近平),” Venezuela’s soon-to-be ex-president tweeted on Telegram, “and we reaffirmed our commitment to the strategic relationship that is progressing and strengthening in various areas for building a multipolar world of development and peace.” Judging by how minutely the Central Intelligence Agency was monitoring Maduro’s every move on Friday, President Trump himself was certainly aware of Maduro’s felicitations to his Chinese guest. Just
In the US’ National Security Strategy (NSS) report released last month, US President Donald Trump offered his interpretation of the Monroe Doctrine. The “Trump Corollary,” presented on page 15, is a distinctly aggressive rebranding of the more than 200-year-old foreign policy position. Beyond reasserting the sovereignty of the western hemisphere against foreign intervention, the document centers on energy and strategic assets, and attempts to redraw the map of the geopolitical landscape more broadly. It is clear that Trump no longer sees the western hemisphere as a peaceful backyard, but rather as the frontier of a new Cold War. In particular,