Because Jo Minjoon didn’t hurry, the remaining numbers were only 8, 9 and 10. Jo Minjoon picked the number 10 calmly. Alan glanced at Jo Minjoon and then, opened his mouth.
“It would be better to go first. Why didn’t you hurry?”
“Because it’s meaningless.”
He didn’t know how he would interpret that, but Alan stared at Jo Minjoon for a while. But fortunately, he didn’t extend the conversation. As Jo Minjoon got back to his place, Alan looked at the participant with the number 1 pocket and said.
“Selena, come out and try your fried tofu.”
Selena. The one who claimed to be a housewife was wearing her apron and walked forward with a faint smile. After she ate it, she started to name the ingredients in a rather bright voice. But when she got the first one wrong, the second, and also the third one, her voice became clearly more unconfident.
In the end, the ingredients she guessed right were five. 5 out of 20. And the next participant didn’t do much better. Six. The one who did the worst was the sixth participant. A white man that was over his sixties, Dan, could only get three ingredients right. It was understandable. Because the older you got, your sense of taste got duller. Even if he tried to do his utmost to sense the ingredients, there was a limit to it.