TXT brings their ongoing world tour, ‘<ACT : PROMISE> – EP. 2.’ to Berlin, delivering a night of connection, emotion, and unforgettable moments.

“Scheiße!” A ripple of voices erupts as the lights cut out inside Berlin’s Uber Arena. It’s instinctual, automatic – an unfiltered reaction to the kind of moment that lives rent-free in your mind long before it happens. The air is thick with anticipation, a collective breath held as Gen Z icons TOMORROW X TOGETHER (TXT) prepare to take the stage.

For the third stop of their European tour, TXT land in a city that feels primed for them. Despite being one of the biggest-selling K-pop acts of all time, their touring history in Europe is surprisingly brief. Berlin is no stranger to K-pop; dedicated stores line its streets, shelves stocked with albums, beauty products, and remnants of a scene that has steadily grown its roots here. Fans gather outside in Uber Platz long before the doors open, trading photocards, handing out bracelets, syncing up for dance challenges against the backdrop of the city’s steel-grey architecture. Every flicker of TXT on the big screens sends another jolt through the crowd. The moment is so close they can taste it.

Inside, the arena pulses with restless energy as a pre-show montage flickers to life, old memories threading together like a time capsule. Then, something new: “Panic”, Beomgyu’s solo track, released only hours earlier. The moment his voice rings out is like an electric shock, and the arena bursts into the kind of shrieks that make your chest tighten, your hands shake. Then, the lights drop – and suddenly, TXT are here.

The opening trio is a knockout: “Over the Moon”, romantic and dreamlike, crashes headfirst into the rebellious edge of “Deja Vu” before plunging into the full-throttle emotional gut punch of “0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You)”. It’s breathless, relentless, hitting every emotional nerve in rapid succession: love, angst, longing, defiance. TXT doesn’t ease you in; they throw you straight into the fire.

“I’m so nervous, I’m shaking,” Soobin confessed afterward – but the way they command this stage makes it impossible to believe it. “There is only one reason for us to do concerts: to connect with MOA and hear them scream and shout,” Yeonjun says. And scream and shout they do.

The mood shifts as “Devil by the Window” slithers into motion, the performance razor-sharp and hypnotic. Then, a new focal point: Beomgyu, stepping forward to echo the elegance of Buchaechum, the traditional Korean fan dance. It’s bigger than choreography – it’s history woven seamlessly into the performance, a reclamation of heritage in the most striking, unexpected way. Then, the rest of the group joins him, dressed in bold, modern reimaginings of traditional Korean attire, and suddenly, “Sugar Rush Ride” isn’t just a song anymore, but a cultural statement; ethereal and untouchable, yet rooted in something deeper, something ancient. TXT are moving global pop forward, but they are carrying their heritage and identity with them every step of the way.

The first act ends with “Farewell, Neverland”, its sweeping melancholy settling over the crowd like a mist before the lights cut out. Silence. Anticipation. Then: Taehyun’s voice cuts through. “Resist (Not Gonna Run Away)” begins with nothing but him, raw and exposed, stretching into the silence like a thread pulling everyone back in. Later, he’ll mention how much he loves this part, the way the audience reacts to it. But in this moment, nothing exists beyond the sound of his voice, the feeling of something undeniable unfurling into the night.

TXT calls Berlin an artistic city, and they aren’t wrong. “I heard Berlin is the city of arts,” Yeonjun says, curiosity lacing his voice. “Berlin is very famous as the city of arts,” Soobin adds, as if reaffirming something he’s always known. There’s an eagerness behind their words, a sense of discovery. Yeonjun had long been intrigued by the city thanks to a family member who once studied here. For Hueningkai, though, this stop felt personal. He scanned the crowd and asked if there were any other Huenings in attendance. Unexpectedly, he found one. It was a fleeting moment, but the joy on his face said everything, and there was a thrill in seeing his German roots reflected back at him, in standing on this stage, in this country, with something to claim as his own.

Dressed in sleek bomber jackets adorned with angel wings, TXT tear into “New Rules”, the energy instantly spiking before detonating with the emo-pop banger “LO$ER=LO♡ER”. The crowd roars back the chorus: “I’m a loser! I’m a loser!” It’s a lyric that shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but in this moment, it’s everything. A shared cry of defiance, a badge of honor, a line that binds every voice in the room together. TXT thrive in these contradictions: the beautiful, messy, exhilarating duality of it all.

The arena crackles as “Higher Than Heaven” soars to life, its anthemic charge intensified by the contrast of their voices: Yeonjun’s soaring belts, Soobin’s feather-light falsetto, Taehyun’s piercing precision. It swells and swells, the kind of track designed for massive spaces, for hands reaching skyward, for the sensation of something bigger than you pulling you into the moment. The ‘80s sheen of “Thursday’s Child Has Far to Go” is just as euphoric, sending the crowd into a synchronised rhythm.

An impromptu singalong to “Blue Spring” follows, a track so beloved that the audience practically carries it themselves. But Taehyun hints at something more, and there’s a flurry of movement on stage. A mic stand is brought out. And then it hits: Beomgyu is about to perform “Panic” live for the first time. The realisation sends the arena into a frenzy.

His members rally behind him, hyping him up before stepping aside, leaving him alone in the spotlight. The song is brooding and restless, a rock-driven anthem that feels like a mission statement: “This is my answer.” It’s a moment of defiance, of artistic conviction. The live reception is deafening, and Beomgyu stands there, visibly moved, as the sound washes over him. This is the magic of the night – the invisible tether between artist and audience, each feeding the other. If “Panic” is destined to be a defining track in TXT’s discography, this was the night it earned its place.

Then, a sharp turn as the crashing synth ballad “Anti-Romantic” hushes the room. Spread across a set styled like a train station, they shift the focus to pure vocal prowess, their harmonies melting into the atmosphere. Yeonjun coolly perches atop a motorcycle, exuding effortless presence. The transition into “Quarter Life” is seamless, its anthemic charge bolstered by the raw textures of their voices: Taehyun’s low growl, Beomgyu’s rasp, Hueningkai’s piercing clarity. It closes the loop on a sequence that moves between genres with ease, balancing vulnerability with sheer power.

Then, TXT turns up the heat. “The Killa (I Belong to You)” – a sultry, tantalising duet between Soobin and Yeonjun – slithers straight into “Tinnitus (Wanna Be a Rock)”, the Afro-pop groove amplified by hypnotic, rolling bass. Then, Taehyun’s solo, a slow-burning seduction that ignites into “Danger”, its Neptunes-inspired beat cutting through the tension. “Back For More” follows; the slick, stylish choreography and the arena-ready disco beat prove that every detail of “Back For More” is built for this stage.

A video interlude makes way for Yeonjun’s solo, “GUMM” – bold, rebellious, risky, and divisive online. But here, in the arena, it works; more than that, it thrives. As the intro plays, the crowd loses it, because suddenly, Beomgyu appears on screen, clinking beers with Yeonjun before calling out the track’s signature “YJ”. Minimal in its approach – jagged synths stutter across an electropop beat – it’s the kind of edginess only Yeonjun could pull off. Online discourse often spins in its own vacuum, but live music tells the truth about what works, what doesn’t, what fans actually feel. Right now, the answer is clear: “GGUM” is the moment.

TXT’s ability to shapeshift between genres is staggering. One second, they’re pop idols. Next, they’re full-fledged rockstars. Hueningkai takes centre stage for an electrifying drum solo, leading straight into “Good Boy Gone Bad” and “Growing Pain”, the one-two punch encapsulating their entire ethos. Genre-hopping is an art, and few pull it off convincingly; TXT makes it look easy.

Then, a shift in pace. Soobin emerges alone, his balletic movements fluid and graceful as he dances across the stage to soft piano keys, a stark contrast to the intensity before. “Dreamer” and “Forty One Winks” unfold like a dream sequence. Afterward, Beomgyu recaps the solo performances with nothing but pride in his voice: “I’m so proud of us, TOMORROW X TOGETHER.”

The final act peaks with “I’ll See You There Tomorrow” – though Beomgyu, ever the mischief-maker, spoils the surprise: “Actually, this isn’t the last song, so don’t go anywhere.” The arena erupts. TXT closes with a final explosion of energy, cutting through the air as Yeonjun lets out an elated “Woo!”. Afterwards, the lights shift. Behind them, the stage transforms into a sunset, their silhouettes stark against the warm orange glow. In the final moment, they link pinkies – small, delicate, but deeply significant. “It’s a promise,” Yeonjun calls out in a voice soft yet certain.

As the first soft notes of “Magic Island” drift into the air, paper stars begin to rise, delicate and glowing in the haze of the stage lights, each one lifted by hands that have held onto this moment for so long. The song itself is a whisper of nostalgia, a memory made real, and now, the stars turn it into something even greater. Beomgyu sees it. His eyes scan the sea of stars, and then, with a voice laced in wonder, he asks: “Did you guys prepare this?”

The crowd roars in response. It’s a promise, a love letter written in paper and light. And for a moment, in this vast arena, TXT and MOA exist in a universe of their own, one where the sky isn’t above them, but between them, held in their hands.

More than any spectacle, this is what defines TXT: connection. Throughout the night, they spent more time on the extended stage than on the main one, embedding themselves within the audience. They don’t speak to their fans, but speak as them. “I’m MOA’s Beomgyu,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious truth in the world.

K-pop often gets flak for being manufactured, but what happens here tonight is anything but. It’s in the way Beomgyu absentmindedly fixes Hueningkai’s hair while he speaks. In the way Yeonjun watches Beomgyu’s solo with quiet admiration before later declaring, “I know better than anyone how hard this is. He really deserved to be celebrated.”

As the night winds down, Taehyun looks out at the sea of faces, the thousands of voices that carried them through this show, and offers the only words that seem to fit.

“Tonight, every moment was more beautiful than heaven.”

Words – Hasan Beyaz
Photography – BIGHIT MUSIC.