Viewers watched on the broadcast as the two rappers, Saoi and Bluescreen—whose rap names were frankly awful—prepared their stage.
What surprised people wasn’t that Saoi was good at music.
It was that he adjusted to Bluescreen.
He sampled sources from music Bluescreen liked and built the beat with the BPM he preferred.
Even the theme and sound concept of the track heavily reflected Bluescreen’s opinions.
This made even the slightly wary Bluescreen start to worry.
[Uh, is it okay to do it like this?]
[What do you mean?]
[I’m just a little worried if this is actually good…….]
[I’m better than you, right?]
[Well… yeah.]
[That’s why I’m matching to you. I’m good at everything anyway.]
-lol is Saoi just being considerate and telling Bluescreen that?
-contextually maybe, but doesn’t it sound dead serious?
-yeah 100% serious lol
-so rude but also nice lol
Of course, that didn’t mean Saoi gave up on every part for Bluescreen.
He had one demand.
It was hard to understand, but the demand itself was very simple.
[Don’t go over fourteen syllables in one bar.]
[What does that mean?]
[Exactly what I said. That’s the only thing I want.]
By “one bar,” he meant a segment where the snare hits twice.
Depending on the BPM, that could be about 4 to 5 seconds.
The problem was that Bluescreen was a rapid-fire rapper.
They clashed quite a bit here, but Saoi didn’t budge.
He had the justification.
Because he adjusted everything else for him.
After their conflict and clash, they slowly started to align—and then the stage kicked off.
And it became a legendary performance.
Bluescreen’s sparse rap laid over the beat Saoi built was not what viewers had expected.
Bluescreen, in the rare footage shown before, always rapped fast.
But now?
The rap was relaxed and stable.
And more than anything, it had vibe.
The word “vibe” was a cruel one for rappers.
No matter how hard you practiced or refined your technique, one comment from a listener saying “I’m not feeling the vibe” could render it all meaningless.
Vibe, put simply, was “the feeling the rap gives,” so it was something innate.
But Bluescreen had it.
-wtf; what is this
-lol why has he been rapping like crap all this time if he can do this
-dude what; is he better than Saoi?
Some even said that.
That’s how captivating Bluescreen’s rap was, dancing atop the ground Saoi had built.
But that was a misunderstanding.
Bluescreen’s first verse passed, then the AR-heavy chorus, and then Saoi’s rap began.
That’s when viewers felt the “difference.”
Was the rap incredibly skillful? Not exactly. Was it super tight? Also no.
It didn’t even have an amazing melody or a particularly special rhythm.
And yet, when you listened—it was different.
The auditory pleasure that came from it was no joke.
Actually, that was to be expected.
Nobody in the world knew, and at present, it wasn’t something that even existed—but Saoi…
No, Han Sion was a rapper who had once performed at the Super Bowl halftime show.
He hadn’t quit rapping because he wasn’t good.
He had quit because he couldn’t become the all-time number one, surpassing the legendary rappers.
The person most shocked by the performance was Choi Jaesung.
“……”
When Han Sion said he’d appear on Show Me, Choi Jaesung was initially a bit taken aback.
It was more like an offhand comment, but seeing Sion actually pursue it seriously made him feel a sense of responsibility.
At the same time, he thought—well, if it’s Sion, he’ll do fine.
In Choi Jaesung’s eyes, Han Sion was a mistake crafted by the god of music.
No matter the genre, the song, the instrument—he drew out the best.
So the idea that Han Sion might not be good at rap was hard to imagine.
Even in most idol groups, it’s often those with producing skills who take the rapper role.
Because rap, which relies on rhythm, correlates with composing ability.
So for someone like Han Sion, even if he put nursery rhymes on top of a beat, it would probably still sound good.
He understood how to interpret beats properly.
But from this angle, it also meant that what Han Sion was good at wasn’t “rap” but “music.”
Rap had its own unique domain, but overall musical ability could make up for a lot.
However, this stage blew Choi Jaesung’s theory away completely.
That was music that could only be delivered through rap.
Not R&B, not rock, not contemporary, not reggae—nothing else could give that feeling.
That meant that Han Sion, who was now competing on Show Me, wasn’t “Han Sion of Sedalbaekil.”
He was “Saoi of Show Me.”
That realization gave Choi Jaesung a strong feeling.
Han Sion really doesn’t say empty words.
Even after spending over a year together, Choi Jaesung had never heard him say something he didn’t mean.
If he had nothing to say, he just didn’t speak.
“You love singing, so I didn’t say anything. But from the first time I saw you, I knew you had more talent for rap.”
“You expect me to believe that lie?”
“It’s not a lie.”
“You seriously think I have talent for rap?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s me.”
“You can tell just by looking?”
“Of course. If I hadn’t seen Gu Taehwan’s talent during the B Team selection, he’d have been a total flop.”
When he heard that, he thought—this is the first time Sion hyung is saying something empty.
He was truly grateful for it, but honestly, he couldn’t fully believe it.
He just thought—ah, Sion hyung must be emotionally shaken because of his injury.
Probably the conversation that followed was—
“But Sion hyung, you can’t rap.”
“Me?”
“I’ve only seen you rap once, during the B Team selection.”
“If you line up all the rappers in Korea, I’d be at the front.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
That was it.
And now, that statement started to feel believable.
Of course, Saoi had done well in Show Me up until now.
But for someone like Choi Jaesung who knew that Saoi was Han Sion, it all just felt like musical ability.
This was the first time it felt purely within the realm of a rapper.
For the first time, Choi Jaesung seriously began to consider Han Sion’s suggestion.
Up until now, he’d been avoiding it.
He couldn’t sing the way he used to, so he didn’t want to think about music at all.
He thought—maybe it’d be fine to just live in the Sedalbaekil dorm and become an engineer and choreographer.
Sion hyung would do the composing anyway, so mixing and mastering felt like overkill.
Choi Jaesung was the only one in Sedalbaekil with any composing ability.
And he was the best dancer, too.
But what if he became the rapper?
‘4 vocalists and 1 rapper…….’
It’s a classic formation.
So classic, in fact, that modern idol groups rarely use it.
But Han Sion had occasionally hinted that it would be nice to have a rapper.
With a group like Sedalbaekil, which mixes various musical genres, rap can fill the transition segments.
After thinking for a long time, Choi Jaesung pulled out his smartphone and opened YouTube.
And began watching <Saoi Rap Compilation>.
Mumbling along.
Onsaemiro’s solo album <Independence> had dropped in popularity.
Weekly sales fell below 1,000 units, and outside the monthly charts, it could no longer be found on the streaming charts.
It wasn’t anything special—just a natural progression.
There’s no such thing as a song people listen to forever.
But if the song was good enough, and if it touched someone’s heart, it becomes a memory.
One day, it pops into your head, and you revisit it just once.
Onsaemiro’s album had moved into the realm of memory.
Meanwhile, <The First Day>’s position on the Billboard 200 also took a noticeable dip.
It debuted at 22, peaked at 20, and dropped into the 30s.
After hovering in the high 20s, it suddenly plummeted into the 70s.
<STAGE> fared worse.
It entered at 62, briefly rose to 48, and then followed a gentle downward slope until it disappeared from the chart altogether.
HR Corporation and Colors Media were now focusing on selling both albums throughout Asia—excluding Korea.
In short, <The First Day>’s English version was projected to sell 10 million units within a year of release.
<STAGE> had about 3.5 million, and the unit albums each sold around 400,000 copies in the U.S.
The exception was Side B, which included the hit track <DROP>.
<STAGE SIDE B> was the top-selling unit album and maintained stable sales.
It was hovering around 800,000, and Colors Media predicted it could hit 1 million in the long term.
What was interesting was that these accomplishments weren’t widely known in Korea.
Sure, articles came out.
But they weren’t official press releases from SBI Entertainment, nor was the PR team involved.
Reporters just cited Billboard or pulled data from HR Corporation and Colors Media’s regular reports.
That’s how news works.
Someone has to write it, someone has to receive it, and someone has to amplify it.
In this case, only the writing part happened—so Korean netizens didn’t really know how successful Sedalbaekil had been in the U.S.
They saw the Billboard charts, so they knew it went well—but didn’t know the details.
SBI’s PR team didn’t move because that was entirely Han Sion’s will.
He didn’t want to celebrate Sedalbaekil’s success when Choi Jaesung wasn’t there.
The more Sedalbaekil’s accomplishments shined, the harder it would be for Choi Jaesung to return as a rapper.
Everyone’s solo activities were going well, too.
Among those was Lee Ieon, whose chapter on Masked Singer had just closed.
Most viewers already suspected <Harmless Electrolyte> was Lee Ieon, and his honorary graduation attempt…
[The winner is……!]
[<Joseon Man of the Late Period>!]
…had failed.
To achieve honorary graduation, one must win four consecutive weeks. The fourth week was known as the Honorary Graduation Round.
Ieon lost in that final round.
But it wasn’t a shameful defeat.
Honorary rounds are notoriously competitive, and he faced the ruthless <Joseon Man of the Late Period>.
[It’s… a tie!]
[A tie!]
They ended with a 50-50 draw.
Ties happen more often than you’d think on Masked Singer.
But this was the first in an honorary graduation round.
According to the rules, an overtime round was held—and Ieon narrowly lost, 48 to 52.
The funny part was that most people figured out who <Joseon Man> was during the overtime.
-It’s Park Changhyun lol
-Seriously Changhyun hyung lol why not just take off the mask and sing
-I guess he felt threatened lol
-That’s one of his go-to concert covers
One of Korea’s top three vocalists, dubbed the “Three Running Parks,” Park Changhyun.
The reason it became obvious he was <Joseon Man> was because he sang a cover song he often performs at concerts.
He didn’t even try to change his voice or style.
Because if he did, he might’ve lost to <Harmless Electrolyte>.
In this context, Ieon’s loss was more of a positive than a disappointment.
Just attempting an honorary graduation was impressive.
[Two of my groupmates have graduated honorably, so I wanted to try too. It’s a shame.]
[But I had a great time.]
[Thank you. This was Lee Ieon from Sedalbaekil.]
-yo I didn’t know Ieon could sing like that until now
-yeah kinda changed how I see Sedalbaekil because of Masked Singer
-we got 2 honorary grads + 1 “almost” grad lol
-“almost” grad lol
-I was rooting for Harmless Electrolyte, but got annoyed the second he took off the mask
-why?
-he’s unfairly good-looking
Just as Lee Ieon’s solo activity was wrapping up…
<Show Me What You Got Season 7—Live Audience Recruitment!>
Han Sion’s solo activity was reaching its peak.
Little Pink Starfish 
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