Star Mission Big Operation (2)
Then, a collective gaze turned toward me, each face painted with disbelief and a hint of desperation.
“Huh? It’s actually tasty?”
The reaction was immediate. Everyone stared at me in utter shock, their expressions a mix of amazement and suspicion.
“Jung Tae-woo player, are you saying that’s really delicious?”
I bit into the burger once more and nodded confidently, chewing slowly.
“Yeah. There’s something refreshing and sweet about it that’s just addictive.”
Gwan-soo’s eyes widened even further as he leaned in, voice laced with genuine curiosity. “Whoa, that look in your eyes says you’re not kidding… I have to try it too.”
“Want a bite? It’s okay if you don’t feel up to it?”
We were playing by the rules of the loyalty mission game, so I glanced sideways at PD, carefully weighing whether the host would allow it. PD hesitated for a second, then circled a thumb and forefinger in the universal “go ahead” gesture.
With fresh courage, Gwan-soo grinned and declared, “Alright, just one bite then!”
He carefully took a small bite, cheeks puffing out as he chewed.
“Eww! How do people eat this? My mouth must be broken or something!”
“Hahaha! Tae-woo player has such great variety-show instincts. You must’ve been pretending to enjoy it on purpose!”
Kim Jeong-guk laughed heartily, clapping me on the back.
It was actually delicious…
Yet the moment had turned awkward. I had been trying to feed someone something I hated, so now I was the one who had just eaten a pineapple burger. I never touched another bite. Nothing else on the table looked remotely appetizing.
Still, no way am I eating bugs. No matter what.
Next up was Kim Jeong-guk. The spotlight shifted to him, and Hee-hee immediately chimed in with his usual mischief.
“Hyung Jeong-guk, man up! Just one. Just one bite!”
Jeong-guk threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Sure thing! I’m passing on this one!”
The game circled back around, and the only thing anyone had actually eaten was my pineapple burger. Everything else remained untouched. The fourth turn landed on Yoo Jae-seung.
His eyes swept across the array of bizarre foods on the table, then he pointed dramatically. “Hey, if I don’t eat any, Kim Chul-min player over there will finish them all, right?”
The towering basketball player’s face turned ghostly pale as he stared at Jae-seung with pure desperation. “Please… just one. I’ll take this one.”
PD explained the choice: “This is the Green Health Smoothie. Kale, spinach, celery, cucumber, and a dash of cricket powder. High-protein, super-healthy.”
“Health? With that color?” Jae-seung protested, face already scrunching up in disgust.
PD continued, “Cricket powder gives it that protein boost. It’s excellent for athletes.”
“Puhahaha! Cricket? Are you serious?” Hee-hee exploded in laughter.
Jae-seung’s face flushed crimson. He marched straight over to PD, gesturing wildly. “PD-nim, you said cricket, right? Tell me you’re joking!”
“Correct.”
“I’m done. This is impossible.”
Everyone in the studio dissolved into laughter. The exaggerated reactions, the trembling voice, the perfectly timed punches— it was pure variety-show gold. I watched every second with a smile, genuinely entertained.
One by one, the remaining players stepped up: Song Ji-hee, Jin Seok-jin, and Olympic fencing gold medalist Lee Chang-seob. Each chose a different “bizarre food” and took their bite.
Ji-hee bravely faced hers but ended up teary-eyed. Seok-jin made a comedy face while forcing his down, drawing chuckles. Chang-seob simply power-ate his, eyes fierce with athletic determination.
When the next player was announced, a special reward appeared: a gleaming golden coin engraved with the letter W.
“This is the ‘One More Chance Coin.’ Only one person among those attempting the impossible task receives an extra opportunity.”
PD’s voice boomed across the studio. “Now, let’s move to the first mission location—the fencing game area!”
Hee-hee teased, “Seok-jin-hyung, why are you staring at that item? You can’t use it anyway!”
“I could totally use it. I’m super athletic!”
“Senior, your knees okay?”
Laughter erupted again, warm and easy. The group climbed aboard the bus, and Kim Jeong-guk turned to me with a grin.
“Tae-woo, I really love soccer. Come train with us sometime?”
Yoo Jae-seung jumped in. “You can’t even play soccer, Jeong-guk. Why drag Tae-woo player along?”
“I’m good at it! That was just a mistake earlier!”
Jeong-guk loved soccer but had been nicknamed “dog feet” by the studio members because his skills were surprisingly clumsy on camera. Still, he was our “Capable One” in games.
“Haha, I’ll come if you invite me.”
“Really? Haha, later we’ll hit the gym together too, Tae-woo!”
Gym? Why gym? I had completely forgotten he was the guy who trained like his life depended on it.
We kept the tiki-taka spirit alive during the ride, passing the ball back and forth as we drove. Before we knew it, we pulled up to the mission site.
“Whoa, what is this place?”
Everyone stepped out and let out collective gasps. I did the same, stunned by the sight.
Amazing…
A massive circular structure dominated the field, covered in concentric rings like a giant archery target. Timers blinked above each ring, flashing red every second.
PD stepped forward. “The mission here is simple: beat human reaction speed. You’ll use this special épée. Hit the exact spot the timer lights up to extinguish the light. Three minutes total. If the whole team lights up and puts out at least 100 lights, you win. Less than 100? Failure.”
Just like a shooting range, I thought.
“One practice round, please!” Jae-seung called out.
“Thirty minutes of practice is allowed,” PD replied.
Jae-seung immediately groaned. “Only thirty minutes? We’ve never even touched a sword before!”
Everyone nodded in agreement. Thirty minutes was clearly too short. The math was impossible. They had to start disadvantaged.
Yet PD didn’t flinch. “Okay, let’s see how it plays out. Chang-seob, show us what a fencing gold medalist can do.”
Chang-seob stepped up confidently, the room went dead silent, and… he scored a miserable 15 points.
Gwan-soo protested, “What kind of nonsense is this? The lights don’t even stay on for two seconds! Five at once?!”
Jin Seok-jin jumped in. “And those lights are tiny! How are you supposed to hit them exactly?”
“Impossible challenge,” someone muttered.
Kim Jeong-guk tried next, but he only managed 5 points. The same issue—lights vanished too fast, and the targets were too large.
It looks easy when you say it like that… I thought. I had never fenced before, but if it was just accurate strikes, quick reaction should have been enough.
“How about I try?”
Hee-hee immediately jumped at the chance. “Yes! We all know Tae-woo player’s reaction time is off the charts. You’re basically a world champion at dodging!”
Song Ji-hee added, “Tae-woo’s reaction speed is on the same level as his looks!”
“Hahaha, is my reaction speed divine?” I asked, grinning.
Gwan-soo stared at me, deadpan. “What? You think your face is the pinnacle of godhood now?”
He scratched his head. “Welp, I can’t argue with that. If you’re good-looking, you shouldn’t have to train, but you’re also a soccer player? Whatever. Just go.”
“Alright, I’m taking this one.”
I grabbed the épée, assumed a ready stance, and took a deep breath. The weight felt foreign in my hands, but the stance came naturally—low center of gravity, feet shoulder-width apart, ready to explode forward. The hand gripping the hilt extended like I was catching a ball.
“Ready… go!”
The first light flashed. I reacted instantly, blade meeting the exact spot. The light died with a soft chime. My score climbed.
It’s actually easier than I thought.
Every time the lights came on, I moved before the timer even reached zero. 5… 10… 15… The rhythm built inside me. I could feel the pattern now, predict the next flash, and strike perfectly.
“What? You’re actually good at this too?” Gwan-soo muttered, but I ignored him, focused completely.
20… 25… The numbers kept rising. My confidence soared. I was in the zone.
Then—two lights exploded at once: one at the top, one at the bottom.
“No way, that’s cheating!”
The lights were at opposite ends. No fair warning. I dropped low, extinguished the bottom one first, then sprang up and took the top. Two clean strikes. The entire studio erupted in cheers.
“That’s insane! How did you move that fast?”
“No thinking time at all! It was like a blur!”
I flashed a small smile at their amazement, then reset. The rhythm was now perfect. I moved like I was part of the machine.
30… 35… The crowd’s noise grew louder, but I barely heard it. Only the lights existed.
As the final seconds ticked down, I stretched to the absolute limit, reaching the farthest light and extinguishing it in one fluid motion.
“Time’s up!”
PD’s voice rang out. The final scoreboard flashed: 42 points.