I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 15. The Season When Grapes Ripen (2)
“Yes, yes. Ah, it’s not that kind of problem. We’ll restore everything as quickly as possible. Yes, yes.”
The phones in the office were lighting up one after another.
There was only one reason this was happening.
They had announced the launch of a new Meari.
Se Joon had barely finished a call and set down the receiver when he spoke.
“This is way bigger than we expected, isn’t it?”
“Tell me about it. I didn’t think it would be this much……”
“This is serious. We only brewed this recently, so we don’t have that much stock.”
“That’s exactly why! From a consumer’s perspective, they might actually see it as a rarer product!”
Ha Jeong had a point.
Song Ha-dang wasn’t large enough to produce quantities in bulk all at once, so they had to release stock gradually.
But to think people would interpret it this way.
Ha Jeong was digging through the internet intently, and she showed us various people’s reactions as well.
“Most people are asking why there’s so little available. And there’s a worried tone too. Look here……”
Ha Jeong thrust her phone directly in front of me.
It was a comment section from a video about ‘Meari: Autumn’ that had just been uploaded to the Song Ha-dang YouTube channel.
Overall, the comments were mostly expressions of anticipation, but there were a few notes of concern mixed in.
– It’s true it’s hard to find this quality these days, which makes me worried. They seem to have rushed it.
└ Isn’t the prep time way too short?
└ Yeah, feels like they just made it half-baked and are dumping the failed batch. Classic hype-riding clearance.
└ Still curious though lol
“Once people taste it, they’ll understand, but everyone’s pretty worried,” Ha Jeong said.
“The fact that they’re worried is something to be grateful for. It means they have expectations.”
After soothing Ha Jeong, who was pouting and grumbling in dissatisfaction, I asked Se Joon a question.
“Anyway, Se Joon—is that matter all settled on your end?”
“Ah… those people?”
Se Joon, who had been quickly typing notes about the calls he’d just received into his computer, answered.
When he said “those people,” everyone at Song Ha-dang knew exactly who he meant.
He was referring to the protesters who had been demonstrating outside recently.
But Se Joon’s response was lukewarm.
As if talking about something already concluded.
“They just vanished without a trace. I have no idea what they were even doing.”
It was a natural result, really.
Things had been progressing exactly as we’d planned.
YouTube had done most of the heavy lifting.
The environmental destruction issue gained public support by preserving our eco-friendly manufacturing process on video for all to see.
The community discord problem that we’d been most concerned about was settled through a recent invitation video featuring local elders.
And after that, the protesters simply vanished like smoke.
The rumors about Song Ha-dang that had been circulating online disappeared as well.
“Still, it’s annoying though. Should we press charges? Lock them all up?”
“I want to, but we have something more important to deal with right now.”
“Ah. Yeah, that’s true.”
Part of me wanted to do exactly what Se Joon suggested.
Their actions made it obvious they were after something, and the aftertaste it left was deeply unsettling.
But Song Ha-dang’s work was far too demanding to spare the attention.
Demand for the original two versions of Meari—both the previous and current versions—continued steadily.
And since I already knew how to bring them down, there was no need to rush.
“Besides, right now I don’t want to be known for this incident. I want to be known for making good alcohol.”
“Well, if that’s what the boss wants, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“For now, let’s focus on what we need to prioritize. I’m going to check on the Aging Storage.”
“Understood. Oh, another call coming in. Yes, this is Song Ha-dang.”
I headed toward the Aging Storage, leaving Se Joon to handle yet another incoming call.
Ha Jeong followed after me.
She seemed bored from only talking about work in the office, beaming with a bright smile.
“You look so happy going off to work.”
“It’s because I’m doing work related to something I love!”
At moments like this, she showed a purity that didn’t match her age.
I couldn’t help but smile as we walked forward.
Now the days had grown cold enough that you couldn’t call them merely cool.
The bitter wind cut across the face like a blade, streaming down relentlessly because of how the Aging Storage sat nestled in the mountains of Gangwon-do.
“It feels like autumn doesn’t exist anymore these days. One moment it’s sweltering, the next it just turns cold.”
“You’re right. I heard this place was chosen specifically so we could make aged alcohol that captures all four seasons, but if it keeps going like this, it might become difficult.”
Aging, by its nature, is profoundly influenced by environment.
It’s not simply a matter of temperature and humidity.
Sunlight, the wind that blows through, the surrounding landscape—all of it shapes the spirit. That’s what makes aging an art.
That’s why even within the same country, taste varies by region, and each brewery produces its own distinct character.
In fact, back in 2017, Tourbillon aged whiskey at the bottom of the sea, twenty meters down, for seven months.
“But the Boss can handle something like this!”
Ha Jeong patted her own chest for emphasis, and her cheeks were flushed—whether from cold or pure enthusiasm, I couldn’t quite tell.
Well then. Let’s give it a try.
The staff at Song Ha-dang were the kind you could set beside anyone without shame.
‘Come to think of it, I feel like I’m always forgetting something. Ha.’
That included the goblins Song Ha and Mok Tong, of course.
“Mind if I take a call for a moment?”
“Of course! I’ll head in first!”
Since there was no way to step away every time I needed to talk with the goblins, I inserted the wireless earphone into my ear.
After all, people wouldn’t think it strange if I said I was on a call.
The moment the silent earphone was in place, Song Ha drifted over to my side.
‘I was about to call you anyway.’
“Is something the matter?”
‘Nothing’s happened yet, but I have a feeling things are going to get busy.’
“Things are going to get busy?”
Song Ha simply grinned at my question, left me with a cryptic “wait and see,” then glided into the Aging Storage without another word.
Every time, I wish he’d just explain things clearly from the start.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m not sharp enough to understand what Song Ha’s really trying to say.
Still, judging by his expression, it didn’t seem like anything to worry about.
“Didn’t you say you were taking a call?”
“It was nothing much. Done already.”
When I pulled open the Aging Storage door, I found shelves lined with onggi—far more than in those early days.
Among this array of spirits, the one we’d taste today was already decided.
“This one.”
‘So our tastes run similar, do they? Tsk.’
‘It’s not just taste—you’ve got real discernment for selecting quality.’
‘Same difference!’
As I made my way toward the onggi, listening to the goblins’ banter like background music, Ha Jeong tilted her head thoughtfully.
“So this was… I can’t quite remember the name.”
“Dongjeong Chun.”
This spirit, celebrated as a renowned vintage from the Joseon period, fell into the category of Takju.
To put it plainly, it’s what you’d call Makgeolli.
Originally, the recipe had been lost, but it was since restored—a traditional spirit, recovered.
There were even breweries selling it these days.
“I hope it tastes as good as all the trouble we went through to make it.”
“I’m hoping for the same thing.”
Dongjeong Chun was a finicky spirit to craft.
For one, since it’s a two-stage fermentation alcohol, you need to prepare starter mash, and beyond that, it calls for remarkably little water—so the failure rate was steep.
Yet despite all that, our reason for attempting it was crystal clear.
“Because they say it tastes extraordinarily good. Why else would it be called a renowned vintage?”
“Hearing that just makes me more excited. Gulp.”
Ha Jeong swallowed, trying to contain her anticipation.
I felt much the same way.
Well, perhaps not quite the same.
Because before I’d even opened the onggi, I could already see the fragrances at play outside its walls.
Bright, playful spirits dancing and leaping about.
The aromas clung to each other intimately, each carrying its own distinct character, but what stood out most was unmistakably honey and fruit.
“It’s going to be quite sweet.”
“You can tell just from the aroma?”
“The aroma, yes. But we should taste it first.”
I lifted the onggi lid and, using a ladle, poured the pure Dongjeong Chun solution into a cup to share with Ha Jeong.
With so little water added, it had a thick, almost pasty consistency—something you could eat with a spoon.
In the meantime, Mok Tong sat nearby, sipping the liquid from his cupped hands.
Angel’s Share—or rather, the goblin’s portion, as they say it tastes all the better for it—though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel a little wasteful.
Whether he’d noticed my hesitation or simply felt a pang of conscience himself, Mok Tong grumbled his protest.

“Wow! Thank you!”
Ha Jeong, unable to hear the two goblins’ banter, accepted the cup from my hands.
What met her eyes was the Dongjeong Chun, glowing with a beautiful hue.
Across the surface of the liquor, countless aromas danced and chattered in peculiar, almost playful forms.
Yes—peculiar, playful forms of fragrance.

What my eyes perceive, Song Ha perceives as well, it seems.
It was a sight that could not help but draw out a warm smile.
Honey flowed down the sides of a house built from biscuits.
Sweet and softened, the aroma of delicate confection mingled with the tartness of grapes, both dancing through the air.
And interspersed among them, plums jutted out here and there, waving their fragrant limbs.
“Mm. Even just the aroma is extraordinary.”
“Truly. Shall we then…?”
One could tell from sight alone that this was a fine liquor, yet the actual taste surpassed even that promise.
The aromas wove together in harmony, wrapping around the palate with viscous warmth.
And at the same time, a gentle grain-born richness enveloped the mouth, drawing together all the fragrances felt until now and offering a profound sense of ease.
“How long… has this been aged?”
“Since we ferment at low temperatures, it takes longer. About two weeks.”
“I’d hardly be surprised if you told me it aged for a month.”
Though I knew the answer to Ha Jeong’s perfectly reasonable doubt, I could only laugh.
After all, how could I explain that there’s a goblin in this place who drinks from the air, and that goblin’s help is what accelerates the fermentation so dramatically?
“Surely this is ready to bottle right now?”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“Not yet.”

I was relieved she’d enjoyed it so much, but we hadn’t yet reached the bottling stage.
Mok Tong beside me, as if in agreement with my words, shook his head vigorously and chuckled to himself.
“It’s still incomplete. Wait just a little longer, and it will become something far more magnificent.”
“More magnificent than this…?”
“Right now it’s a house. In a little while, it will become a palace.”
Not being naturally eloquent, I could only describe what I saw with my own eyes.
For now it was merely a dwelling built of grain-biscuit, but given a little more time, it would transform into something grand.
I wondered.
What flavor and fragrance would that become?
“Then how much longer should it ferment?”
“Ten days.”

I set down the empty cup and let the aftertaste linger for a moment before broaching the main subject.
“Now that you’ve tasted it, what do you think?”
“It’s magnificent. Already magnificent, and to hear it will become even more so—I can hardly wait.”
“I’m glad you think so. Of course, what you’ve just tasted is the original solution. To sell it as takju, we’ll need to blend it with water as well.”
After fermentation and aging have sufficiently progressed, we plan to filter out the original spirit—the pure essence.
But given how little water goes into it, this particular product will boast quite a high alcohol content.
Our ancestors certainly enjoyed this original spirit, though it’s so potent and thick that it won’t appeal to the general market.
We intend to mix it with water to reach roughly eight to nine percent alcohol, creating a more accessible product.
“That’s a good idea. The original solution could be sold separately as well.”
“Exactly. There will definitely be demand for it. But there’s something else I really wanted to tell you…”
I set down the cup that had held the Dongjeong Chun—now empty—and spoke.
“I’d like to enter it in an alcohol tasting competition once it’s finished.”
“An alcohol tasting competition, you say?”
Ha Jeong’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked at me.
“Yes. It’s time we venture out into the wider world.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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