The front of the village hall was alive with excitement.

As the guests returned with their ingredients and greeted one another, we too were reuniting like family. When the youngest and I locked eyes—he was happily sucking an ice cream—

“Jiho!”

“Woo-joo hyung!”

Like soccer players celebrating a goal, he ran at me, and I greeted him in return.

“Hyung! Hyung! Today during the missions, all the grandmas and grandpas doted on me!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I might even move here someday.”

I burst out laughing. Ri-hyuk shot me an exasperated look.

“We’ve only been apart two hours—why are you two making such a fuss? You’d think we hadn’t seen each other in a year.”

Jiho, staring blankly, asked me,

“Why’s hyung acting like that?”

“Because you ran straight to me.”

“Oh, I see. Did you feel left out, Ri-hyuk?”

“No.”

“Right, you didn’t.”

Watching our back-and-forth, he sighed.

“I wish you both would disappear... Oh, why are you dancing?”

With Ri-hyuk between us, Jiho and I did a circle dance around him. Just then, Jung-hyun cut in.

Like three mischievous monkeys at a campfire, we danced and passersby laughed.

“Please... stop drawing attention. What if they label us a comedy idol group?”

“It’s fine. The cool image was ruined by Jung-hyun already.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jiho doesn’t know yet. About the black goat.”

Just as I went to explain, the little restroom door swung open and someone emerged holding a phone. Squinting in the sun, their eyes widened when they saw us. We waved first.

“Bijoo!”

Bijoo ran over joyfully.

“How did everyone do? How was it, hyung?”

As each of us gleefully shared our stories, Jung-hyun began his.

He said that after a chase with the black goat named Daegil, they’d become somewhat friendly. We laughed uproariously—until the end, when two faces fell.

One was mine.

“Jung-hyun, you didn’t really tell the camera that I hugged a pillow and explained jiu-jitsu moves, did you?”

“...Well, that...”

“Right?”

“Hyung, if I did, would it be that big a deal?”

“Hey!”

The other was Bijoo, unusually serious.

“Jung-hyun, you ran into the road with a truck coming, didn’t you?”

“...Ah.”

Sensing we were about to be lectured, the three of us made a quick retreat.

Ri-hyuk was mixing bulgogi in a big bowl and said,

“Come to think of it, our team now has two heroes: the Galhyeon-dong Hero and the Yeoncheon-gun Black Goat Hero.”

“Ha ha! Black Goat Hero.”

Our cooking teammates laughed. Jung-hyun beamed at the nickname, and I chuckled.

“Jung-hyun, don’t get so pleased over small things.”

“I’ve become a hero now too, hyung.”

As he grinned, the youngest, who’d been ladling soy sauce, brightened.

“Speaking of which, how about giving everyone a nickname?”

“What do you want, Jiho?”

“Um... Hannam-dong Iron Fist? Isn’t that cool?”

He said he based it on a favorite comic character, and we all laughed at the randomness. Listening nearby, Lee Gyeon-woo added,

“Then I’ll be the Hyeukseok-dong Sloth.”

“Ha ha, that suits you.”

“I’ll be the Cheongdam-dong Reggae Hair.”

As the kids played, the elders chimed in with their own jibes. Maxi’s “LA Crazy Dog” jab got a laugh, and Yeo Hee-chan teased Yeo Hee-yeon, creating a comic scene. Somehow the older folks were having more fun than us.

And our youngest, after some quiet scenery, suddenly talked nonstop—maybe because we applauded every time he made a seal-clap reaction.

“How is their mood so good...?”

“They’re just giving up on cooking and focusing on airtime, right?”

“This is crazy. I thought Lee Gyeon-woo would be the center, but it’s Newblack in the middle.”

...so the other teams whispered, and our eager celebrity passed every word along. When asked if we were doing well, I gave a thumbs-up. Indeed, our team’s atmosphere had shifted to center around Newblack. Not because we were hilarious, but because everyone wanted to chat, and he was the easiest to approach. Plus, we were already having fun, so adding a comment kept the conversation flowing. He was like a matchmaker, bringing people together.

Whenever we talked excitedly, other guests would add a line, and a new conversation would spark.

Haesheon laughed,

“Talking with these guys makes me feel young again.”

“Oh dear... I’m not sure about that...”

“Come on, you keep talking, stop it.”

Thanks to that, the other guests were bonding too. But the other teams were mistaken. We weren’t giving up on cooking to chase airtime. In fact, things were going so smoothly we had the leisure to chat.

“Really! Be careful. Uh... soy sauce... who spilled it?”

“Sorry.”

Team B had a few close calls—the kind where you smile and laugh it off on camera but your face momentarily freezes. And there was subtle tension in the air. Occasionally you could see people around them tensing up.

Meanwhile Team A, with Seo Ji-hyung and Han Yeoreum hard-carrying, looked grim. Their handling of bossam and steamed fish was like a military operation. When a chef said “scalpel,” the other handed it over. In many ways, our Team C was the odd one out. And unlike A-team, which had two head chefs causing confusion, we had one, which was an advantage.

“Bijoo, what do I do next?”

“Bijoo, should I turn off the heat now?”

“Chef Bijoo, could you taste this and check the seasoning?”

Then our second member darted between tables like a cooking sprite. When the dishes were nearly done, Bijoo picked up some bulgogi and approached me.

“Hyung, want to taste this?”

“Sure.”

She fed me a piece with a gloved hand. It was sweet and savory.

My eyes widened.

“This is amazing.”

“Really?”

“But I’ve tasted this somewhere... Ah, you...”

“Yes, that’s right.”

When I said it tasted familiar, it was Grandma’s recipe. Not just me, everyone who tasted it gave a thumbs-up and widened their eyes. It felt like the BGM from a cooking manga played in the background.

“Wow, it tastes just like a restaurant. Want to go into business with me someday?”

Maxi even made that offer. As bulgogi, japchae, and doenjang-jjigae were completed in succession, a warm mood pervaded our team. We felt we had a real chance. And we had an extra menu.

“Wow... those are from sweet potato sellers?”

“They gave us these because Jung-hyun helped feed the black goat.”

Three boxes of sweet potatoes. Immediately, using leftover ingredients, they began turning them into various desserts: sweet potato fries, roasted sweet potatoes, boiled sweet potatoes.

“Thirty minutes remaining!”

With time closing in, we finished cooking and then gathered in a circle for our strategy meeting.

Yeo Hee-yeon said,

“Seniors and villagers will be coming for the meal soon. Let’s think about how to attract them.”

All that remained was a bit of hospitality. Winning the mission meant bringing in more guests than any other team, not just making the best food.

I offered,

“How about offering roasted sweet potatoes as a sampler?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

“We have toothpicks. We could cut «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» them small and say, ‘You don’t have to buy anything—just try a bite, please.’”

“Then they’ll feel awkward leaving and go to us.”

“Exactly—that’s the point.”

Everyone laughed at my suggestion.

“You’ve done this before, Woo-joo?”

“My grandma runs a set-menu restaurant. I grew up watching how she did business.”

More precisely, I’d seen a lot of nearby new shops fail. I shared various stories I’d observed, and Maxi eagerly eavesdropped on the catering tips Seo Ji-hyung, A-team’s restaurateur, was dropping.

When we synthesized those insights and drew our conclusion—

“Cooking time is up!”

Now the mission’s outcome would be decided.

In front of the village hall.

“Oh dear, I’m hungry. When will they let us in?”

“Grandma, we have to wait. It’s not time yet.”

“I don’t care. My legs hurt. I want to sit in the car.”

“Sir, where are you going?”

“I’m just going to peek inside.”

From ten minutes before the scheduled time, crowds thronged around. Perhaps because locals rarely got the chance to have celebrities cook for them—and appear on TV—most of the village had gathered. The age range was wide: children clutching their mothers’ hands, middle and high schoolers, even middle-aged and elderly.

Amid the eager anticipation, an FD came out to guide them.

“Our meal service is now ready.”

A large menu board was posted.

“Please enter and choose whichever team’s meal you prefer. Once you pick a team, you may not move to another.”

With reminders not to film and so forth, entry began.

“Hello!”

Seeing celebrities we’d only seen on TV in person, everyone’s eyes went wide. Up close, their faces were right in front of them.

“Our steamed fish is really tasty!”

“Care for some tender bossam? Have a bite here.”

Team A, full of actors and models, relied on their looks and their food’s presentation. Team B, six girl-group members, laughed energetically to attract guests.

Meanwhile, Team C approached with plates of sweet potato snacks in hand: Yeo Hee-chan, tall and handsome, once famous as the charming instructor on variety shows; Lee Gyeon-woo, who’d played a drama protagonist in a series averaging 31.9% ratings; and me, the idol with uncanny, almost unreal features. Thanks to us, Team C had a strong start.

Song Jin-woo of Team B cracked a wry smile.

“They would have won even if they’d handed out shrimp chips.”

But the other teams quickly borrowed the idea, and it leveled into a tie. Then as taste evaluations began, people flocked to Team A and Team C, saying their food was good. Overall, Team B fell behind. Team A claimed the lead, and Team C chased fiercely. After a while, Team A basked in a celebratory atmosphere, while Team B and Team C decided to pivot—chatting with elders to get more airtime.

“For a feast, you can’t skip the celebration performance!”

Comedian Oh Hyung-seok hosted and raised the energy. With folks’ laughter and applause all around, someone leaped up at the call for a singer.

“Me! I want to sing!”

“Here’s Newblack’s Jiho. Let’s hear him sing.”

Amid laughter and applause from diners, the handsome, youthful member stood front-and-center in the village hall. He waved a tissue like a handkerchief. Soon his phone’s BGM played a trot song. As Jiho sang trot and waved the tissue like a fan, laughter burst out. Behind him, the tall member danced like an opening-hour store mannequin, eliciting more laughter. After one song ended and an encore followed, the retirees smiled at the idol’s cute gestures.

Starting with Jiho, volunteers sprang up everywhere. Girls On Top’s maknae, Gil Chaegyung, declared she couldn’t lose and sang trot with her unnis. Seo Ji-hyung also sang the legendary flop from his first album. These were South Korea’s most entertaining talents, so the mood ignited instantly.

Meanwhile, the competition settled into its pattern.

“Team A will win, right?”

At Yeo Hee-chan’s casual remark, his sister shook her head.

“Wait. The producers said about twenty people haven’t come yet.”

“Hey, do you think they’ll all come to us? Just accept that we lost and relax.”

“There are still people not here?”

At Lee Gyeon-woo’s question, Maxi nodded.

“Some haven’t arrived yet. I don’t see that grandfather either. The rich one.”

“The rich grandfather?”

“You know that nice house mid-village.”

Indeed, Kang Mun-sik grandfather hadn’t come yet. Maybe he was busy? But he’d promised.

“Hyung.”

The youngest rested his pointed chin on my shoulder. His face was flushed red from the crowd’s cheers.

“How was my song? Did I do well?”

“You did great. The elders loved it.”

“Really? Was I better than her?”

“Of course. Naturally.”

From afar I saw the elders praising Gil Chaegyung’s sweet performance, and our youngest glared in mock rivalry.

“Hyung, let’s go greet the members too.”

We went around the tables with the elders, asking if they enjoyed the meal. Their smiles were radiant. They said it tasted like eating at a restaurant, and our second member beamed at every compliment. Yes. Even if we’d lost, the elders’ delight made it all worthwhile. It wasn’t a stage, but bringing joy like this was a good experience.

And then—

“What’s that? A ton of cars just pulled up?”

“Four cars arrived!”

The entertainers circling tables with villagers looked up, astonished, and rushed outside. Nearly twenty people stepped out of the four vehicles. Judging by their interactions, they seemed to be five families by blood.

“Oh dear, my leg!”

At that familiar voice, I blinked. The luxury-clad grandfather was climbing out of a car. When he winced at his leg, a middle-aged man asked, “Father, are you okay?” Then the eldest among them asked, “Father, where shall we go? You like bossam. Shall we have bossam?”

Team A’s faces lit up—until—

“No, I have a promise from earlier.”

Grandfather Kang Mun-sik peered through the crowd at me, Ri-hyuk, and Maxi, then laughed heartily.

“Oh dear! There you all are!”

He grabbed our hands in delight, leaving us stunned. The other teams stared with wide eyes—especially Seo Ji-hyung, whose eyes nearly popped out. Dazed, I asked,

“Grandfather, so these people are all...?”

“They’re my sons.”

He laughed, gripping my rigid hand.

“I told you I’d bring lots of guests.”