From A Producer To A Chapter 335: Tour begins

Chapter 335: Tour begins

The lights dropped.

For half a second, Busan Asiad Main Stadium beca a single lung holding its breath, and then the scream arrived. Not a normal scream. Not the kind you hear when a celebrity waves. This one ca from the stomach, from the bones, from people who had been carrying the last two weeks like a fever and finally had sowhere to pour it.

Light sticks moved like fireflies. Banners shook. Flags whipped in the air. So fans jumped so hard the seats trembled under them. The noise was not noise anymore. It was pressure. It was release. It was the sound of a crowd realizing they had actually made it here, that this mont was real, that it was not another clip on a screen, not another trend they missed by two seconds, not another headline they only got to read.

Dayo stepped out.

The roar swelled again, like the stadium recognized him the way a body recognizes heat.

"JD"

"JD"

"JD"

"JD I LOVE YOU."

"DAYO I LOVE YOU."

He stood still for a beat, letting it hit him properly. Then he smiled, not the polished celebrity smile, but the kind that slips out when you are genuinely stunned. He raised the mic slowly, like he was trying to calm a storm with his hand.

"Busan," he said.

They scread louder.

He laughed once, breathy, almost disbelieving. "If I tell you what is inside my head right now, even I will think I’m lying."

The crowd roared, chanting his na in ssy rhythm, like they did not care about timing, only truth.

Dayo nodded, eyes sweeping across the stands. "I’m not going to give a long speech. I just need to say sothing that feels... superstitious."

The word made people laugh and scream at the sa ti.

He pointed down toward the city, toward the ground, like he was speaking to Busan itself. "My first movie carried this place in its title. My first tour in Korea starts here. My first ti doing sothing this wild, you are the first people witnessing it."

The crowd exploded again, fans shouting, "History," like they were declaring it into existence.

Dayo’s voice softened, but it stayed steady. "This is what I an by superstitious. Sotis life keeps circling a place until it finally lands. And tonight, it landed."

He paused, then added, "Thank you for Witnessing it."

For a second, it felt like the entire stadium leaned forward.

Then Dayo lifted his hand. "Alright. Enough. We ca to work."

Then laughter erupted around the stadium.

Dayo smiled and waved.

The first beat hit.

The stadium beca a living thing. People sang even before the lyrics started properly, because they already knew the songs, and the ones who didn’t know them were still screaming like knowledge did not matter, only presence.

Dayo moved into the first track like he had been born on that stage. Not stiff. Not rehearsed. Controlled, but alive. He sang with the crowd and let the crowd sing back. He let them carry whole lines so he could breathe and listen to them, because that was the point.

When the second song ca, he didn’t stop the montum. He didn’t do the usual celebrity pacing. He ran it like a set ant to overwhelm. One hit into another. Hooks into hooks. The chants kept climbing.

Then he lifted a hand.

The music dipped slightly.

"You know what is funny," he said, voice low, teasing. "I keep hearing people say this is my night."

The crowd scread.

Dayo pointed into the stands. "No. This is your night. So I’m going to do sothing stupid."

The audience scread louder because they could feel the danger inside that sentence.

He leaned forward, squinting at the front rows. "You there. You. The one waving like you want to tear your shoulder."

Another round of laughter went up again.

A guy near the barricade was losing his mind, waving so hard his whole body was shaking.

Dayo laughed. "You want to sing with ?"

The guy scread yes so loudly his voice cracked.

Dayo nodded. "Alright. Co up."

The security instantly tensed, because this was the part where things go wrong. People rush. People fall. People get hurt.

But Dayo lifted his hand again. "Slow. Easy. Don’t touch him rough."

Security guided the guy carefully, like he was carrying sothing fragile.

When the guy finally climbed onto the stage, he didn’t walk.

He ran.

He ca straight to Dayo and hugged him like he was hugging a miracle.

The crowd went insane.

Dayo hugged him back, then gently pushed him away with a grin. "Alright, alright. Breathe first. What’s your na?"

The guy’s mouth opened and closed like he couldn’t rember his own identity.

He swallowed hard. "Seojun," he managed.

"Seojun," Dayo repeated into the mic, and the crowd scread the na back like it was already famous.

Dayo tilted his head, studying him properly now. Sothing in his eyes shifted, that private look he got when the system inside him moved. Like he had just seen a stat float in the air.

[Seojun]

Status: Unknown Artist

Singing Level: A-

Writing Level: C

Visual: B-

Instrunt Levels:

Guitar: B

Piano: C

Potential: S

Skills: Nil

Dayo’s smile didn’t change much, but the decision in him clicked into place quietly.

"Seojun," he said, "you sure you want to do this?"

Seojun nodded fast. "Yes. This is... this is my dream."

Dayo glanced toward the band, then back at him. "Alright. Pick a part. Don’t be scared. If you ss up, we ss up together."

The crowd scread again, because they could sll the mont turning into legend.

The music ca back in.

Seojun grabbed the mic with both hands, shaking, then he started.

And the stadium went quiet in shock.

Not silent, but different.

The kind of quiet where you can hear disbelief.

Because the boy could sing.

Not karaoke sing.

Not fan sing.

He sang like soone trained, like soone born for it, like soone who had been waiting for one door to open.

His voice hit the lody clean, confident, and then he did sothing that made even Dayo blink.

He added emotion.

The kind that cannot be taught.

The kind that makes a crowd feel like they are inside the song, not just listening to it.

Dayo stepped in with him, blending their voices, guiding the parts, letting him shine but keeping him safe.

And when the chorus landed, the entire stadium joined them like a choir.

A sea of voices carrying the hook together.

When the song ended, Seojun stood there shaking, eyes wide, tears already gathering like he couldn’t process that it had happened.

Dayo put a hand on his shoulder.

"You’re good," Dayo said into the mic, simple and honest. "You know you’re good, right?"

Seojun nodded, crying now. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Dayo looked out at the crowd, then back at Seojun.

"Busan," Dayo said, voice lifting, "you brought

a gift."

The crowd scread.

Dayo turned back to Seojun. "After this show, you and I will talk."

Seojun froze. "Talk about what?"

Dayo smiled slightly. "About you not wasting this gift."

The crowd erupted like they had just witnessed a proposal.

Sobody scread, "Welco to JD Label," and the chant caught fire instantly.

"Welco. Welco. Welco."

Dayo laughed, shaking his head like even he didn’t expect it to spiral that fast.

He raised the mic again. "Alright. Watch out for Seojun. Rember that na. Because if he works hard, you will hear it everywhere."

The stadium scread the na again.

Seojun bowed repeatedly, crying, shaking, looking like he wanted to disappear and stay at the sa ti.

Security guided him off the stage gently, and Dayo watched him go with that calm focus, already calculating, already planning, already seeing the future path.

Then Dayo turned back to the crowd.

"And now," he said, voice dropping into sothing dangerous and playful, "we continue."

The show surged again.

More songs.

More energy.

Artists ca out one after another, like the stage was a parade of victories.

The cast from the movie appeared at a mont nobody expected, waving, laughing, soaking in the noise, and the crowd scread like the film had climbed out of the screen and beco real.

By the ti the last song ended, Dayo was sweating, breathing hard, still calm sohow, still in control.

And then ca the part that felt almost more exhausting than the performance.

The signing.

Outside the main exit, tables were set, staff moving fast, stacks of album copies prepared, markers ready.

The line was not a line.

It was a river.

People stretched as far as the eye could see, so holding albums, so holding movie tickets like sacred relics, so holding both, shaking, laughing, crying, begging for one second of eye contact.

Dayo sat down and started signing.

One.

Two.

Three.

He signed until his wrist burned and his fingers went numb.

He signed while fans thanked him in Korean, in broken English, in tears, in laughter, in words that didn’t even form properly.

He signed until the stadium lights behind him felt like a distant mory and the night air turned cold.

And even then, the line still looked endless.

Busan didn’t just attend his tour.

Busan claid it.

And sowhere in that crowd, sowhere between the album ink and the shaking hands, the clip of Seojun singing beside him was already climbing online, already trending, already turning into the next fire they would have to carry.

And also the video of him helping the girl at the airport.

Because the world did not just co to watch Dayo anymore.

The world was now hunting for the next thing he would touch.