It’s official: OnlyOneOf has reached the end of an era.

This week, 8D Entertainment confirmed that the group’s exclusive contract has expired, marking the formal conclusion of their activities under the agency. Each of the six members – Nine, Mill, Rie, Junji, Yoojung, and KB – is now charting new territory, with reports that they’re preparing for solo projects, acting roles, and fresh ventures beyond the OnlyOneOf name.

For years, OnlyOneOf stood at the intersection of art and taboo – a group that challenged what male idols could look and sound like. Now, with their contract expired, that experiment reaches a bittersweet pause.

But endings aren’t always losses. Some are pauses. Some are preludes. And if any group deserves a moment of reflection, it’s OnlyOneOf – one of the most quietly influential, conceptually daring acts of their generation.

The Debut

When OnlyOneOf debuted in 2019 with savanna, they weren’t just introducing a new boy group – they were proposing a different way of being one. Their name, meaning “only one of someone,” hinted at the dualities they’d come to embody: individual yet collective, sensual yet cerebral, provocative yet poetic.

From the start, their music carried the fingerprints of their own creativity. Members contributed to songwriting and production, shaping a sound that blurred electronic R&B, art-pop, and underground club textures. Initially under the creative direction of Jaden Jeong, they built what was called the “ubersexual” concept – a world that framed desire, vulnerability, and emotional intimacy through an artistic lens rarely afforded to men in K-pop.

It was a vision that felt risky but necessary, landing them in a niche space between experimental idol group and art project. Even then, the core was clear: OnlyOneOf weren’t chasing trends. They were building a language.

The Rise

The world took notice in 2021.

With Instinct Part. 1 and its lead single libidO, OnlyOneOf ignited one of the most debated – and defining – cultural moments in recent K-pop memory. The track’s choreography, which saw members intertwining and pulling at invisible threads of tension, provoked headlines for its intimacy. But beneath the surface-level shock was something deeper: a study of repression, yearning, and human instinct.

They refused to retreat. The group defended libidO as art with intent, not provocation for its own sake. That conviction paid off. Instinct Part. 1 became their best-selling release to date and marked a turning point in how queerness, sensuality, and masculinity could coexist within idol performance.

This was also the moment OnlyOneOf began to cultivate a devoted queer following – not through marketing, but through recognition. Their aesthetic and storytelling, unflinching in its tenderness between men, resonated with LGBTQ+ listeners hungry for visibility within a system that usually avoided such themes. Their performances didn’t read as fanservice; they felt like reclamation.

Amid this rise, tragedy struck in quieter form. In August 2021, leader Love departed the group, citing personal reasons. His exit reshaped the group’s dynamic, but the remaining six continued forward, their chemistry more introspective and unfiltered.

The Peak

Between 2022 and 2024, OnlyOneOf entered their golden stretch. It was a period defined by relentless creativity, cross-cultural expansion, and conceptual precision.

Their Japanese debut arrived first: OnlyOneOf Japan Best Album in January 2022, followed closely by Instinct Part. 2 and its title track Skinz – a metallic, pulsing anthem about individuality and self-liberation. The group held their first Japanese concert at Zepp DiverCity Tokyo before releasing Suit Dance (Japanese ver.), which landed in the Oricon Top 5.

Then came the ambitious undergrOund idOl project: six months of solo releases that stripped each member down to their personal creative core. From Yoojung’s emotive Begin to KB’s genre-blending Be Free, Rie’s delicate Because to Mill’s rhythmic Beat, the project revealed each member’s internal world with an intimacy rarely seen in idol output. The experiment culminated with Nine’s Beyond, closing the loop on a concept that blurred the line between performer and auteur.

In parallel, they explored acting with the queer web series Bump Up Business, where all members were cast – a decision that reaffirmed their willingness to engage with queer-coded storytelling in a space that still treats it as taboo.

By 2023, OnlyOneOf’s sound and vision had reached full form. seOul cOllectiOn, released that March, portrayed young people drifting through the city’s emotional and physical sprawl. Co-written and composed largely by KB and Nine, it combined polished R&B with experimental ambience, stitching together stories of loss, desire, and self-searching.

Their Grand America Tour that Spring sold out multiple cities, playing halls, theatres and clubs across 16 dates in the region.  

The following year, they scaled up further. Their ‘dOpamine’ world tour spanned 33 cities across Asia, the Americas, Europe, and Australia, sealing their legacy as global cult icons. That tour notably featured a euphoric, on-brand night at London’s Heaven – a historically queer nightclub and symbol of artistic liberation. It was a moment that felt poetically circular: a group that once risked everything for self-expression standing in one of the world’s most storied queer venues, embraced by a global audience that saw them not as controversy, but as community. 

In retrospect, it’s impossible not to view dOpamine as their last grand statement before what followed. The final chapter before enlistments and the inevitable pause that so often interrupts K-pop’s stories. Looking back, that tour now reads like a living archive – a snapshot of a group in full bloom, aware of the impermanence of it all yet determined to burn brighter for it. It’s a reminder of how fleeting collective euphoria can be, and how easily we take for granted the artists who redefine boundaries while they’re still standing before us.

The Fracture

Then came 2025.

After releasing their digital single Stay, the group entered what would become a turbulent final year. Their North American ‘Our Only Odyssey’ tour drew backlash from fans protesting the promoter’s alleged handling of safety and refunds in the past. Some fans launched a boycott; others defended the group, caught between loyalty and ethics.

Nine publicly addressed the tension, acknowledging the concerns but asking for empathy. His response revealed exhaustion – not from the art, but from the politics that had begun to consume it.

What was once symbiosis between artist and fanbase turned fractious – a reminder that radical transparency, while rare and brave, often comes at a cost.

Weeks later, “JamieGate” unfolded: a chaotic, months-long dispute involving KB and a high-profile fan that devolved into allegations, leaked messages, and livestream meltdowns. What began as parasocial mismanagement spiralled into a fandom implosion. It was painfully messy and public – a stark contrast to the refinement that had once defined OnlyOneOf’s image.

By mid-year, the signs were unmistakable. Members reportedly moved out of the dorms. 8D Entertainment went silent. And when year bOOk, a commemorative photobook, was released, fans read it like a farewell letter.

By the time the dust settled, OnlyOneOf had become something larger than a group – a mirror reflecting both the possibilities and the vulnerabilities of modern idolhood.

Still, fragments of their identity persisted. KB’s increasingly avant-garde photoshoots – including one viral look featuring denim shorts, cowboy boots, and a cropped “I Love My Hot Guy” tee – became statements of self-expression beyond idol norms. Nine continued posting song covers, quietly sustaining the group’s musical DNA. 

Even in dissolution, they remained expressive.

What Comes Next

Something beautiful happened amidst the news.

Mill posted a photo of all six members with one word: Forever. On Fromm, he reassured fans that OnlyOneOf wasn’t over.

Though their group activities under 8D have formally ended, rumours point toward a reunion in 2028, once all members have completed military service. Nine has even mentioned plans for a sub-unit project with KB during an August fanmeeting.

According to Yoojung, their group chat is still alive – and apparently, Rie talks the most. It’s a small but telling detail: the line between past and future hasn’t fully closed.

Maybe that’s what makes this ending worth celebrating. Not because it’s clean or cinematic, but because it’s real. OnlyOneOf existed in tension – between art and audience, restraint and rebellion, intimacy and exposure. Few idol groups have carried that weight with such grace, or such stubborn devotion to authenticity.

What separated them wasn’t commercial dominance, but consistency. Every era of OnlyOneOf felt intentional, bound by a through-line of sensual honesty and creative authorship. Their artistry lived in nuance – in the tension between what could be shown and what couldn’t. They were never the loudest, but they were among the bravest.

They expanded what male performance in K-pop could look like. They opened space for conversations about queerness and emotional intimacy that the industry still hesitates to have. They redirected controversy into dialogue.

So yes, the contracts have ended. But art this distinct doesn’t expire. They may be scattered now, but the language they built – one of honesty, tension, and touch – still speaks.

Gone as we know it, for now. But not forever.