In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

When the first mission was announced, everyone chimed in.

“A cooking mission?”

“We’re really cooking rice? Didn’t Ju Se-han’s show once have an episode where they gathered firewood and stoked a hearth?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re probably just serving meals to the elders.”

Main PD Koo Jae-young explained.

“The first mission is to prepare and serve delicious food to the elders. You’ll be split into three teams. The team that serves the most guests wins.”

At that, Yang Ok-bun frowned, her wrinkled forehead creasing.

“Director Koo, what about recipes? There must be a dozen people here who, like me, can’t cook.”

As everyone nodded, PD Koo reassured them.

“Yes, we anticipated that concern, so we’ve prepared recipes. Assistant directors will hand them out shortly. Just follow them exactly.”

He added,

“Of course, we won’t strictly enforce the recipes. You may call your mothers or acquaintances for tips, or use any online cooking blog recipes.”

“This is suspiciously generous.”

Comedian Oh Hyung-seok frowned.

“They never let us off that easy. What’s the catch this time...?”

“Yes, there is one condition.”

The Ju Se-han members sighed, expecting trouble, while the guests perked up.

“There are no recipe restrictions, but the ingredients are limited.”

“...Ingredients?”

“We’ve purchased the ingredients you’ll use. To obtain them, you must visit the elders’ homes. Here’s the map—Hyungseop! Oh, here.”

An assistant director appeared holding a large chart.

It was a map of the village, with each elder’s house marked with their name and the ingredient they’d provide—like [Kang Chil-bok, Lee Geum-sun – Pork].

It looked like a game map where “This shop sells potions” was labeled.

“We’ve prepared these ingredients in sufficient quantity, so don’t worry. However, to receive them, you must complete the mission each elder sets.”

Changing a lightbulb, fieldwork—missions based on the difficulties the elders living alone had shared. PD Koo clapped his hands.

“Before starting, take some time for team discussions.”

Inside the spacious village hall, thirty cast members sat in three teams.

“Let’s split our team into three groups,” said Yeo Hee-yeon, the leader, writing “Task Distribution” on A4 paper. She listed:

“Ingredient procurement: three subteams (eight people each). Cooking team: two people.”

“First, let’s choose who stays to cook. Anyone here with cooking experience?”

“I will,” Bi-ju tentatively raised a hand.

All eyes fell on her. Blushing, she smiled shyly.

“I’m not amazing, but I’m confident. Cooking is my hobby.”

“She’s being modest,” I added.

“She’s really good.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep—better than my mom. Wait, that’ll get edited out, right?”

As the VJ chuckled, Yeo Hee-yeon wrote Bi-ju’s name under “Cooking Team.”

“So, what can you cook?”

“Basic dishes. I’m not familiar with foreign cuisine, but I know Korean food well.”

“You’re self-taught?”

“Yes, MiTube and cookbooks.”

Her “self-taught” answer made some teammates uneasy.

“Well, as long as you can chop properly.”

Yeo Hee-chan said nonchalantly,

“It’s the same for other teams. Even if you say someone’s a good cook, it’s only two or three people out of thirty.”

Indeed, other teams were debating their own cooking talent. Especially Team B, with six girl-group members, looked bleak without any cooks. But Team A was upbeat.

Haysion asked,

“Why is that side so lively? Like a banquet.”

“Wait,” said SNS celebrity Maxi, cupping his ear.

We tilted our heads in confusion as he reported,

“Seo Ji-hyung, they say you ran a restaurant? You have a Korean Cuisine Technician certificate? You’re our savior, Ji-hyung! So, no more jokes—do something else...”

“Can you hear that?”

“Yeah, I’m good at eavesdropping.”

How did he catch that distant conversation over all the noise? I tried and failed. The comedian proudly revealed his certification, earning cheers.

Then Team A burst into applause—for rookie actress Han Yeoreum, whom we’d greeted before the opening. Maxi listened again.

“She said she graduated from CIA.”

We blinked.

“CIA? Like that U.S. show?”

“Isn’t that the National Intelligence Service?”

“Wow, unbelievable.”

“Wait, if she’s CIA doesn’t that mean she’s not Korean?”

Joong-hyun tilted his head.

“Can she even say she worked for that agency? In movies they always hide identities.”

“Maybe it was an office job.”

As we exchanged silly remarks, the truth emerged: CIA here meant Culinary Institute of America, a world-famous cooking school.

Seeing online, everyone cleared their throats. Haysion clicked his tongue.

“No one’s stopping you from cooking there. They have famous alumni and restaurant CEOs.”

From the vibe, Team A seemed sure to win. Woo Jae-yong beamed, and Oh Hyung-seok praised Seo Ji-hyung. Our team encouraged Bi-ju.

“Don’t be intimidated.”

“Right, don’t try to outcook the pros. Let’s play to our strengths.”

“Home-style cooking might suit the elders’ tastes best.”

“Bi-ju, we don’t know the result yet. We could come in first if we try. Let’s go for it.”

But the others still seemed to doubt our second’s cooking. Bi-ju looked too delicate—they must have thought cooking and her image clashed. They probably figured she just liked cooking as a hobby. True, she did—yet her skill was beyond amateur. Watching her chop vegetables or fry rice, her movements struck me as something special—good enough that if I wanted to learn, I’d watch her instead of MiTube. Objectively, our second was a capable cook. But judging by everyone’s reactions, expectations had sunk well below zero. When Bi-ju blinked at me, I gave her an encouraging smile. Soon they’d see.

The menu was chosen quickly: japchae, beef bulgogi, and soybean-paste stew. The other teams picked similar staples. Everyone needed stew as a base; Team A added braised fish and bossam, Team B bulgogi, pancakes, and skewers. Dishes had to be soft-textured and familiar for the elders, and scalable for the entire village.

Few dishes met both criteria, so only a handful of options existed. Next up: ingredient scramble.

“From now until two hours from now, fetch your ingredients. Time and supply are ample, so don’t focus solely on missions—talk with the elders and enjoy yourselves.”

With PD Koo’s cue, the mission began.

“Good luck!”

“Everyone, remember your ingredients!”

As our cooking team of Bi-ju and Yeo Hee-yeon waved, Team C split into three groups.

“See you later, hyung.”

Haysion and Joong-hyun headed right.

“I’ll do my best!”

Ji-ho went left with Lee Gyeon-u and Yeo Hee-chan.

The remaining three—Ri-hyuk, Maxi, and me—walked the center path. Ri-hyuk sidled up to my left, though he thought he’d been subtle—it was obvious. Caught, Maxi blinked and asked softly,

“Hey... do you not like me?”

“...What?”

“You moved away, so I wondered if you don’t like me....”

The bluntness stunned us both. Ri-hyuk waved his hands in denial.

“No, no, not at all!”

“Then come here. Walk and talk with me.”

“Uh, okay.”

I laughed as Ri-hyuk slunk back.

“He’s actually pretty shy,” I said.

“Oh... really? I’m super shy too.”

...Said the person with warrior-like eye makeup.

Ri-hyuk bristled.

“Shy? I’m not shy at all.... My ears are red—like ketchup.”

“Want me to teach you how to make them even redder?”

“Oh, how?”

“Tell me compliments.”

Ri-hyuk shook his head.

“Stop with the weird talk. My ears are red because it’s hot, not because I’m embarrassed....”

“Your voice is really nice. It makes me happy to hear it.”

“......”

“Your proportions are great too. Want to model for my shopping site?”

“......”

“Wow, you really are easily embarrassed.”

Maxi’s soft voice and innocent tone felt strangely enchanting. A social-media star known for unfiltered honesty, first appearing on cable TV and now in high demand. Maybe at home he rants, but on set he was exactly as we knew him: no room to drop character. A VJ with a 6mm camera followed us non-stop, giving him no break. He asked,

“Where should we go first?”

“We need bulgogi ingredients. We’ll go to the houses where the mission’s not being done yet.”

On the map, three houses listed “beef.” The first had cameras and noise behind an open gate—immediately ruled out. The second was a four-minute walk; even with sunscreen, the sun stung. Our famously pale main vocalist looked like a ripe strawberry.

“Ah, I feel dizzy....”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just heat.”

I wished we’d brought straw hats. He looked droopy; I got worried.

Maxi pointed ahead.

“That one?”

“No, turn left before that. That house...”

I checked the map.

“It’s a different house down here. A single grandfather lives there; he provides turmeric.”

“Turmeric?”

“The spice for curry.”

We hesitated. “...No dish we’re making needs turmeric.” Like cocoa beans don’t become chocolate instantly. Unlike other homes listing tofu, chives, beef, this one offered only an odd ingredient no one would claim. A neat, newer-looking house among old ones. Maxi looked sympathetically.

“Aww, poor guy. No one’s going to pick that.”

“Exactly.”

I suggested,

“How about we stop by later?”

“Sounds good.”

“Me too. He must be lonely—let’s visit and greet him at least.”

We reached the second house.

“Excuse us.”

I knocked, the latch clanking. The door slid open, and an elderly woman hurried out, barefoot.

“Oh my, you came!”

She was Grandma Im Soon-hyun. A friend at the senior center had called bragging about TV people coming, so she’d been waiting eagerly. First delighted at the two of us, she paused, startled at Maxi’s heavy eye makeup and leopard pants. After a brief culture shock, she resolved to give hearty compliments.

“Goodness, you look brave as a lion.”

Her awkward praise made me laugh. In the warm atmosphere, we exchanged greetings. I asked permission to hold her hand; she obliged, and I clasped both hands, smiling warmly. I deliberately spoke more clearly, and she seemed pleased. After the VJ removed his shoes and entered, we followed into the house.

In the living room, a brown Pomeranian bounded excitedly.

“Oh, so cute.”

While Maxi and the VJ beamed, I laughed at its cuteness—until I noticed Ri-hyuk standing stiffly, shoulders hunched. The dog circled him happily, but he just stood at attention, eyes wide. The VJ, who’d been frowning under the sun and equipment, now cracked a smile.

“Are you scared of dogs, dear?”

Grandma Im mischievously scooped up the dog, then led us—shuffling—into the next room.

The “living room” was more like a storage space. Grandma Im admitted sheepishly,

“It’s messy, isn’t it?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine.”

“My back’s been aching, so I haven’t cleaned. Could you help me tidy up a bit...?”

“Clean? Sure.”

At that, Ri-hyuk, who’d looked faint, suddenly stood upright—the spine muscles of a «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» squid. His eyes lit up.

“So you want us to clean?”

He swept a tissue across dusty surfaces while estimating the work with the enthusiasm of someone embarking on a grand plan. As he asked Grandma Im about how to proceed, Maxi whispered to me,

“Does she like cleaning?”

“She’s the type who goes to vacuum expos on her days off.”

“Wow... what a strange person.”

Indeed. But thanks to her, the mission seemed easier already. I approached, following Ri-hyuk’s gesture, thinking of the others—surely they were doing well.

At the same time, Kim Joong-hyun and Haysion, having secured tofu for the stew mission, headed to another house. The two men, trading rap lines about soybean-paste stew ingredients, heard a scream.

“Eek! You scared me!”

A-team members burst out of a gate. Model Han So-ra, among them, looked petrified. Joong-hyun tilted his head; Haysion asked,

“What’s going on?”

“We had to do a mission, but something’s too fierce... ah!”

With another scream, something leaped over the wall. Slender black hair streaming, sharply curved horns, and a build bigger than most large breeds—a commanding presence. It was...

“A black goat?”

A single black goat stood atop the wall, issuing a majestic bleat.

“Baaa!”