Little Pink Starfish

Longtime Show Me the Money viewers all know this: the finale is famously the most boring episode.

There are two reasons for that.

First, it’s broadcast live—so there’s no editing magic.

Even if it’s the same performance, watching it edited with perfect cuts and controlled pacing is far more entertaining than watching it raw.

Second, the pressure of the word final makes rappers hyper-focus on “message.”

By the time the finale arrives, rappers are aware that everyone’s listening closely to what they’re saying, so they feel compelled to deliver some kind of profound statement.

From that perspective, Savior brought a performance that viewers never saw coming.

-Whoa what the hell lol
-Now this is it, damn
-Right? Enough with the emotional sob-stories already

There was no message. Just sound quality and impactful rap skill.

The kind of performance rappers call “rap shit.”

Savior didn’t even bother optimizing for digital chart performance.

Usually, once rappers make it to the finals, they start caring about how the song will do on streaming platforms.

That means turning to easy listening—mild messaging, smooth rap verses, catchy choruses you can loop.

It’s hard to say no to the streaming revenue those songs bring in.

But Savior was a veteran.

And after talking it over with his producer, he decided not to go that route.

“Whatever I do, I’m just gonna come off as a second-rate Han Sion anyway.”

No matter how much of a ten-year veteran Savior might be, he couldn’t beat Han Sion when it came to mass appeal.

Han Sion produced the best-selling album in Korea last year.

He’s also the leader of a top 3 idol group with a fanbase that ranks consistently at the top.

In other words, the guy knows exactly what the public wants.

“At least you’ve got the upper hand in rap skills, right?”

Savior agreed with his producer.

Of course, Savior, his producer, and the Show Me production team all knew the truth:

No matter how impressive the rap skills were, unless Han Sion utterly bombed his performance, the viewer votes would be overwhelmingly in his favor.

Normally, if an idol reaches the Show Me finals, they get a wave of haters.

People claiming they got in just for being an idol, or that their fans carried them through votes, or that the producers forced them forward for ratings.

But not Han Sion.

He made it to the semifinals without relying on his fame at all.

So haters didn’t stick.

Sure, there were always a handful of unreasonably malicious people—but they were insignificant.

At this point, even hardcore hip-hop fans started to like Han Sion.

–He made it this far purely on rap skills, no clout? That’s dope lol
–Yeah, dude’s seriously committed
–Didn’t even try to play the nice guy for the camera like idols usually do
–Honestly didn’t come off as all that nice lmao
–I binged Coming Up Next for the first time—Han Sion’s always been kinda cool and detached
–Lol I only knew people called him “Hip Sion” but now I get why
–This dude’s got balls, man. Didn’t even know about the Taeho fight until now

Hip-hop fans are known for being judgmental, but they also give genuine praise for real skill.

With their support, it was nearly impossible for Savior to beat Han Sion.

But still—he wanted to leave with some personal satisfaction.

He might lose in the realm of artistry or stardom, but maybe he could claim a small win in the realm of rap.

That’s why he delivered this kind of performance—and it worked.

–That was some killer rapping
–Smart choice, honestly
–Super entertaining lol

As Savior’s stage ended, a joint performance by top 4 contestants Blus and Breathe began.

Next up would be Saoi’s final stage.

–What do you think Han Sion’s gonna do?
–No clue lol. I’ll be disappointed if it’s just a Sedalbaekil feature
–Yeah, I’d rather he just went full “rap shit” like Savior
–But has Han Sion ever flexed his rap skills that hard?
–Not really, but his musicality is off the charts; he’s just that good
–Wish he’d drop a solo album packed with rap tracks
–Bet it’d still be one of those idol mini-albums—just 4 or 5 tracks
–Bruh, you’ve never even listened to a Sedalbaekil album, have you? Hip Sion and crew don’t do anything less than full-lengths
–Fr?
–Yeah yeah yeah, their debut had like 13 or 14 tracks. Second album too
–Actually, if you count unit tracks, their 2nd album’s closer to 40
–Right? And Onsaemi’s solo was a full-length too
–Didn’t care about Sedalbaekil before, but now I’m curious. Might give it a listen
–Tbh you’ll probably recognize most of the tracks. They charted everywhere
–If you want to feel that real musical high, listen to the English version. The HR-produced English TFD version is crazy
–Same, the English version strips away the Korean emotional tone and lets the sound shine
–There’s an English version?
–What, you been living in a temple? That thing ranked super high on the Billboard Album chart
–Think I read an article, but didn’t pay much attention
–Tbh I only found out recently too lol

As viewers argued across various boards about Show Me and Han Sion, Blus and Breathe’s performance ended.

Saoi’s VCR started playing.

And as soon as it did, reactions were extreme.

–Wait, all of Sedalbaekil’s appearing?
–IT’S JAESEONG 😭😭😭 Glad to see he’s doing okay
–Lol Hip Sion out here like a dictator
–Dude called in everyone just to win this thing lmao

Fans of Sedalbaekil—or idol Han Sion—were thrilled.

Han Sion made it clear and proud:

[Until now, I’ve performed as Saoi, but for the finale, I’ll perform as Han Sion.]

On the other hand, those who had come to love Han Sion as a rapper were disappointed.

–Ugh, it’s the full Sedalbaekil lineup after all
–Yeah… not feelin’ it
–??: Who thought it was a good idea to rap on an idol chorus?
–LMAO but he is the idol with the name
–Think the label pushed him to do it? Probably wanted to squeeze in the group
–Bro what are you on about, Han Sion is the CEO of his company
–Wait seriously? Isn’t SBI pretty big?
–He built it
–Then that makes it worse
–Where’d Rap Sion go 😭
–Rap Sion’s out. Hip Sion’s in

In the VCR, they began rehearsing. The sound was flashy.

Not much was revealed, but some part—whether intro or bridge—sounded undeniably like a band.

–What if Sedalbaekil’s actually playing live?
–Are they even good at instruments?
–Wouldn’t they have learned from Rap Sion?
–If that’s true, respect

But that wasn’t it.

In the VCR, Han Sion was talking with producer Kyo, who asked about the band.

At first, Kyo didn’t think much of it—until he heard the name of the band, censored out.

[Kyo: Wait… you got them to be your backing band?]
[Han Sion: Yup.]
[Kyo: How much did you pay them??]
[Han Sion: They’re playing for free.]
[Kyo: …Are you serious?]

That piqued viewers’ curiosity.

There weren’t many bands in Korea with that kind of name value.

–No way he got Yoon Band or something, right?
–Bro shut up lol
–That’d be career suicide
–??: Sir, would you be our backing band?
–LMAO why does it feel like Hip Sion could actually pull that off?

Then, the band appeared in the VCR—completely blurred out.

So heavily mosaicked that only faint silhouettes were visible.

–What the? They must be super famous
–Is it GOTM?
–No way. A Billboard top 10 band playing as Show Me backup?

Meanwhile, Sedalbaekil fans had a whole different vibe.

–Watch Show Me from the start imagining Saoi is secretly Sion the whole time hehe it’s so fun hehe
–Just seeing Sion on a variety show again is a blessing…

Soon, the VCR ended.

It was finally time for the real performance.

---

To idol trainees, Han Sion is a figure of both admiration and resentment.

Now that Saoi was revealed to be Han Sion, even rapper trainees were caught up.

“Let’s see how good he really is.”

A lot of them had that mindset as they took their seats at the Show Me finale.

Then Han Sion stepped onto the stage.

A sharp suit, tie slightly loosened, perfectly styled hair.

The kind of look that just made you exhale in awe.

But he didn’t look like a businessman.

He looked like an artist through and through.

He held a single mic and began—acapella.

It wasn’t traditional rap.

Too melodic to be called rap.

But too rhythmically tight to be called a song.

A Korean-English hybrid, over 80% in English. The lyrics weren’t easy to make out.

Seemed like a story—something about selling his soul to the devil.

But the lyrics didn’t matter.

“He’s broken.”

There’s something special in Han Sion’s voice.

The same words feel deeper, the same melody feels more honest.

To fill such a massive stage with nothing but voice—no backing track—is not easy.

It felt like a musical or a stage play.

No one knew this, but the song he was performing was The Devil Blues—a track from his past life.

Suddenly, drums burst in.

Then a sharp electric guitar riff sliced through.

Bass followed, tucked under the guitar, and then synths kicked in from the keyboard.

It was funky.

That classic West Coast vibe.

Like a band version of what Dr. Dre or Snoop Dogg used to do.

The audience, hypnotized by the acapella, snapped back to attention like they’d been doused in cold water.

The narrow spotlight widened—revealing the band behind him.

To everyone’s surprise, they were all white foreigners.

On screen, the subtitle appeared:

GOTM.

When they’re with Han Sion, GOTM means “Gram of the Minute.”

But now, it stood for “Great of the Mans.”

The meaning had changed, but the name was the same.

The timeline had shifted, but Han Sion and GOTM’s mission remained:

To drive the audience mad.

Han Sion opened his mouth again—and the stage exploded to life.