I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 2

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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 2. Tasting with the Eyes (1)
How could I ever forget that moment?
The moment when the dream of creating Song-ha-dang’s own unique liquor first took its tentative step into being.
It was around then that I’d scraped together every last penny I had and was barely prepared to begin Brewing.
But how could such a thing be possible?
Could something as convenient as returning to the past actually happen in reality?
“This doesn’t make sense…….”
The touch of the air against my skin felt far too real to dismiss this as a dream.
And yet I’d been dreaming right up until moments ago.
Could it be that the ten years I’d lived through were nothing but a dream?
No—either way, it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that I’d come back.
Even if this was a dream I’d wake from, it would be enough.
Because what truly mattered was that I could chase my dream right now, this very instant.
And if I really had returned, maybe this time I could finally satisfy everyone who’d been disappointed in me until now.
I was thinking just like that.
Creak.
“Yeon-u, you here? Whew! Smells like liquor!”
A familiar voice reached my ears.
How could I ever forget it?
The voice of my business partner, my friend, who had left this world in an unexpected accident.
“Se-jun?”
“Did drinking make you lose your mind? Why are you sprawled out here like this?”
“Is it really you?”
“You’ve gone completely crazy. I knew this would happen. Drinking like a madman yesterday.”
Se-jun, built solidly and broad-shouldered, smacked his forehead and sighed.
At nearly six feet four with a weight north of two hundred and twenty pounds, he cut an imposing figure.
He looked like an enforcer from a noir film, yet he was genuinely guileless through and through.
My cherished colleague.
The person who walked alongside me toward my dream.
The friend who, hearing my half-childish fantasy of a dream, readily joined me without hesitation.
Thinking of everything we’d endured, tears spilled down my cheeks.
“Hey. You really okay?”
“I’m fine. Just let me hold you for a moment.”
As I embraced Se-jun in my joy, his bewildered voice came.
“Did you really hit your head? Have you lost it?”
And so, the moment I Regressed, I was told I’d gone insane.
* * *
“All right, let’s sort through this.”
In the office set up at one corner of the Brewing facility.
Sitting at my desk, I muttered to myself while laying out paper and pen.
“At least the Regression is certain…….”
After regaining my senses and experiencing several situations over the following days, it was an undeniable fact.
Even the major incidents and accidents unfolded exactly as I remembered them.
“And this left hand. Not a single scar.”
My left hand, rendered nearly useless by a traffic accident.
Because the injury had been so severe, I’d undergone surgery and was left with a large scar—but now my left hand was pristine.
With this, the fact of my Regression was confirmed.
“So then, how on earth…….”
Suddenly, memories from before the Regression flickered through my mind.
A man dressed like someone from the Joseon era.
The taste and aroma of the liquor he’d handed me.
And that sudden wager over wrestling.
“It’s clear. That man sent me back…….”
I couldn’t fathom how it was possible.
I’d spent my whole life Brewing liquor—however briefly—so how would I ever understand time travel or the laws of physics?
All I knew for certain was that the man sent me back because of our wager.
“Save the Dokkaebi, he said…….”
He’d been clear about it.
He’d asked me to save them—the Dokkaebi.
Make me some good liquor.
He said he’d do his best to help me for that.
Could it be that this Regression was included in that help?
“I’m sure of it. When I go back, he definitely said something like that.”
‘You’re an excellent brewer, so you’ll do well even after you return.’
No matter how oblivious a person might be, if someone spells it out so plainly, there’s no way they could miss it.
I scribbled “Regression” and “liquor” on a piece of paper, then set down my pen.
Was there really any need to deliberate?
In the end, what that mysterious man asked of me was to craft good liquor.
And that was my goal as well.
“After he’s done all this for me, I can’t afford to fail.”
This was my second chance, seized almost by accident.
I couldn’t let it rot away like before.
My heart began to race.
I wanted to start making liquor right now.
Ten years’ worth of know-how was already packed into my head.
Which meant I wouldn’t have to go through a decade of trial and error again.
“And this time, I’ll live differently.”
I used to think all a brewer needed to do was craft good liquor.
I’d believed that if the liquor was delicious, everyone would acknowledge it.
But the world was harsh.
Naive as I was, I’d frozen in that cold.
“Taste matters, but I need to live more shrewdly this time.”
With that firm resolve, I thought again.
“They say every great brewing house has a Dokkaebi.”
The answer was simple.
Every brewing house has a Dokkaebi, and to save that Dokkaebi, you brew good liquor?
Then it meant saving all the brewing houses across the nation.
For that to happen, Song-ha-dang would first have to grow.
“But what did he mean by a Gift?”
He’d said the man had prepared a Gift for me as well.
What on earth could that mean?
I was lost in thought.
“Song Yeon-u. You in there?”
“Yeah. Come in.”
I answered at the sound of Kim Se-jun’s voice, accompanied by a knock.
Kim Se-jun stepped through the door.
We’d grown close because he, like me, was a passionate drinker — we’d been classmates in university.
It didn’t take long for us to become truly close, touring the country together tasting traditional liquors and even visiting distilleries overseas.
And together, we’d nurtured the dream of running a brewing house in Korea.
“Something’s… weird about you lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at this. You never used to respond so meekly. Ugh. It’s giving me chills.”
“I suppose it happens. Chills and all.”
“Come on, be straight with me. How much did you drink at that celebration party? You’ve been off ever since then.”
“I don’t know.”
I’d regressed to the exact moment when I first started running the brewing house.
Hazy memories of the past came back to me.
Kim Se-jun and I had drunk heavily to commemorate that first venture.
Back then, I thought a bright future was unfolding before us.
“This time it’s really going to work out.”
“All of a sudden talking nonsense like that… you should go see a doctor later, Yeon-u. You’re starting to freak me out.”
Kim Se-jun grimaced, rubbing his arm as if feeling goosebumps prickle across his skin.
Of course—he could only be ignorant of everything I’d experienced so far.
I’d make sure he never had to endure such horrors.
“Anyway, what’s up?”
“Food’s here. You seemed out of it, so I was going to order a set meal, but they were closed today. I got jjajangmyeon instead. Come on out.”
“Got it.”
Since the weather was brisk, I threw on a light jacket and headed outside.
As I breathed in, cold air rushed through my lungs in a sharp wave.
This was also one of the reasons I’d allowed myself to covet liquor at all.
If handled properly, these characteristic wide temperature swings could aid in crafting a well-balanced spirit.
I rubbed my hands against the creeping cold and stepped into the adjacent building, where Se-jun was already waiting with the food laid out.
“Why are you so late?”
“Oh, I had something on my mind for a moment.”
“I can tell. Hurry up and eat so we can get to work.”
“Right. We should.”
Two bowls of black bean noodles and a plate of sweet and sour pork arranged neatly on the table.
I stuffed the noodles and pork into my mouth haphazardly, and by the time my initial hunger had subsided a bit, Se-jun spoke up.
“Hey, I’ve got some bourbon left over from before. Want some?”
“You’re the one who said I was crazy, right? And now you’re trying to get me to drink?”
“We’re only having a little anyway, so what’s the harm?”
With that, Se-jun jumped up and retrieved a bottle he’d been keeping.
Despite his casual words, it wasn’t anything particularly remarkable.
It was Maker’s Mark, one of the so-called “big three” entry-level bourbons.
The bottle, unlike other whiskeys, was decorated with what looked like red wax dripping down from the neck.
Se-jun returned with two tasting glasses and sat down, speaking as he poured.
“Let’s just have a small taste, though.”
“Sounds good.”
That was the moment—Se-jun uncapped the bottle, measured it with a jigger, and poured into the glass.
Deep amber liquid sloshed into the glass.
And there, wavering between the ripples, a faint wisp of vapor revealed itself.
“Huh?”
The first scent to emerge was vanilla.
Then a touch of acetone seemed to dominate, before blending into a sweet cherry that unfurled beneath it.
Underneath, the aroma of grain spread wide, while oak and caramel embroidered the top notes.
It was a familiar fragrance.
It was definitely just a scent, so… why could I see something with my eyes?
And what were those tiny living things?
“Song Yeon-u?”
“Huh? Oh… I’m fine.”
It was a sensation I couldn’t quite explain.
I’d definitely smelled it, but how could I see it with my eyes?
Yet I had seen it.
I had watched each individual scent dancing about with my own eyes.
Was that all?
“That… that’s…”
The vanilla scent bouncing before my eyes suddenly bounded forward and dove toward the black bean sauce on the noodles.
But the outcome wasn’t pleasant.
The creature, struggling in the thick, dark paste, soon seemed to tire and drooped listlessly.
As the other scents trembled at the sight, bourbon’s characteristic spice arrived in turn.
That creature—commonly called spice or impact—puffed out its chest proudly and strode deliberately toward the black bean sauce.
And there it stood, unshaken.
While the surrounding scents applauded in wonder, it safely guided the others across the black bean noodles.
After that, they all began to frolic as though delighting in the play.
Like sprites dancing in some otherworldly scene.
It was Se-jun’s shout that pulled me from my daze at this incomprehensible sight.
“Hey, Song Yeon-u!”
“Huh? What…”
“Why do you keep doing that? Have you been pushing yourself too hard lately?”
“No. Let’s just eat.”
I took the glass and inhaled, and that sensation from before returned.
When I brought it to my lips and took a sip, it intensified even further.
I was certain.
What I’d just witnessed was no mere hallucination or fancy.
Or if it was a fancy, then it was a fancy grounded in truth.
The other scents, which might have been buried beneath the rich, oily flavor of the black bean sauce, didn’t fade away thanks to bourbon’s characteristic bite—instead, they wove together in harmony.
“Mmm! Bourbon really is perfect with greasy food.”
Was this also a Gift from that mysterious man?
The ability to turn back time—and even to show me the scents and flavors of spirits as tiny sprites playing before me.
Who on earth could that man be?

“Goodness!”
I spun around at the voice that came from behind me.
And there he was.
A man standing behind me.
Dressed in the kind of turn-of-the-century modern fashion you’d only see in textbooks—a man in a bowler hat.
“W… who…?”

A mysterious man who had materialized without warning in a space that had been empty mere seconds before.
Yet he spoke with perfect composure, index finger raised to his lips as if it were nothing at all.
And he was right.
Kim Se-jun beside me didn’t seem to see the man at all—he was looking only at me as he spoke.
“Hey. This won’t do. Don’t drink that. Why don’t you just go to the hospital today and get an IV?”
“Ah… well… haha. I don’t need to go that far. I’ll just head upstairs for a bit and rest instead.”
“Yes, that’s best.”
Leaving the cold sweat trickling down my back behind me, I hurried out of the building toward the office.
I confirmed that no one was following, and locked the door behind me.
I grasped the firmly locked doorknob and released a sigh of relief—

“Goodness!”
At the voice coming from behind me again, I lost my footing and fell flat on my backside.
Somehow the man had entered the room and stood before me with a bow.
I asked him in a trembling voice.
“W… who are you…?”

He patted down his suit jacket and smiled clearly.

“What do you mean—”

He spoke words that seemed impossible to believe, then removed the bowler hat he’d been wearing and held it gracefully against his chest.

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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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