I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 3

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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 3. Tasting with One’s Eyes (2)
A Dokkaebi.
A type of spirit that appears in various forms throughout Korean folklore.
There are familiar stories about them.
At dawn, one suddenly challenges a young man to a wrestling match.
Entranced, he wrestles on and on, and only when dawn breaks does he come to his senses, realizing he’s spent the entire day grappling with nothing but a massive tree.
“Do you believe me now? Hehehehe.”
“Wait, wait. So you’re really the one who runs this distillery…?”
“Call me Song Ha. This ground was originally mine, though I’m not particularly fond of being called that. You wouldn’t want to be called a hunk of moving meat either, would you?”
Song Ha frowned slightly as if displeased, yet responded with composure.
Still, when I pressed for an explanation, he continued calmly.
“Originally, a Dokkaebi is what an old object becomes when it transforms.”
“But a distillery isn’t really an object…”
“Call me Song Ha, for heaven’s sake. Anyway, you’re right about that much. I’m no object. But there are other paths, you see.”
Though Dokkaebi typically spring from objects long forgotten, Song Ha explained, rare spaces suffused with devotion and love can sometimes gain consciousness of their own.
He added that he was precisely such an unusual case.
“I was truly happy brewing sake with your grandfather. Though that friend couldn’t see me, the thread continues through his grandson—isn’t that fortunate? When you were small, I’d speak to you, but you never understood. So your eyes have only just opened now?”
“Well… that’s kind of how it is…”
Explaining to Song Ha everything that had happened didn’t take long.
I wasn’t particularly gifted with words, so I stuck to the essentials.
Yet Song Ha’s reaction was far more complex than I expected.
“So if I understand correctly, someone intervened directly in the timeline and sent you back to the past?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And they granted you the Opening of Eyes so you could see us? They commanded you to save my clan?”
“That part’s correct too.”
“Such grace! Such generosity!”
Song Ha’s mouth fell open in astonishment.
When I asked what the matter was, he adjusted his hat brim and continued.
“There aren’t many among the Dokkaebi who could do such things. To warp time, to open eyes, and yet to worry about a clan besides…”
“Is it really that significant?”
“It absolutely is! Then we must act in accordance with that intention. We must brew sake at once.”
“Will brewing sake change something?”
“Of course it will. We Dokkaebi can’t resist sake—it’s our weakness.”
Like the old tales, Song Ha explained, Dokkaebi adore liquor.
Moreover, when a Dokkaebi absorbs the essence of a place where fine sake is being brewed, even one on the brink of death can spring back up.
My suspicions had been correct.
Ultimately, to save the Dokkaebi, I would need to revive distilleries across the entire nation.
“That sounds difficult.”
“But it will help you as well. Haven’t you already experienced it?”
“Sorry? Experienced what?”
“You must have been able to see aroma and taste. That’s my ability, my gift to you. A blessing given to one who has opened their eyes.”
It seemed that when a Dokkaebi who regained strength consented, the one whose eyes had opened would receive that Dokkaebi’s power.
Song Ha added that the Ability to See Aroma and Taste was unique to him alone.
Each of the other Dokkaebi possessed their own distinct abilities.
“Of course, since the Opening of Eyes came by way of contract, should you fail to save the Dokkaebi, your eyes will close once more. And with them, all your abilities will be lost.”
“I understand.”
“To ensure that doesn’t happen, we’ll need to brew even more delicious sake. After all, the Dokkaebi adore it so.”
I nodded at Song Ha’s words.
This was no mere wager—I’d already made up my mind.
Even without the stakes, I had no intention of letting this opportunity slip away.
Seeing my resolve, Song Ha broke into a broad smile and spoke.
“Excellent! Then why don’t we start at once? What about something similar to that unfinished spirit we saw earlier?”
“Ah, that would be difficult.”
“Why is that?”
“That was Whiskey.”
Whiskey isn’t finished once distillation is complete.
After the first and second distillations, the spirit that results must be aged in oak casks—that step is absolutely essential.
Only then does Whiskey develop further in its complexity, bouquet, and flavor.
It’s one of the most critical elements that can fundamentally transform whiskey’s very character.
Which is precisely why Scotch whisky requires a minimum of three years aging in oak casks—a condition that exists for good reason.
“I’m not sure about the future, but it’s difficult right now. Besides, we don’t even have a still at our brewery.”
<Ah yes. Now that you mention it, I’m starting to remember. I only ever knew how to drink the stuff. Heh heh.>
“So for now, I thought we should start with what we know.”
<You’re talking about Nokpaju, then.>
Nokpaju.
One of Korea’s traditional medicinal liqueurs, a celebrated wine passed down since the Goryeo Dynasty.
When poured into a cup, its color is said to be as clear and crystalline as blue waves breaking—hence the name.
The light must have been breathtakingly beautiful, for it earned another epithet: Mirror-Clear Nokpaju, treasured for its lustrous beauty.
Because of this, during the Joseon era it became a favorite of the nobility, a wine that symbolized the integrity and refinement of the scholar class.
Under normal circumstances, the recipe would have been lost during the Japanese occupation, but it was one your grandfather painstakingly restored.
“It was the wine my grandfather used to make.”
<I remember now. It had a truly fine taste.>
Your grandfather was the one who crafted Nokpaju at Songhwa-dang.
Though he never gained wide renown, he made wine so delicious that it kindled your interest in liquor in the first place.
But there was one problem, and this was it.
<May I speak plainly?>
“Please.”
<I’m not sure whether you’ll be able to recreate that old flavor. Ahem.>
Song Ha touched the brim of his hat absently, as if looking elsewhere.
Compared to your grandfather, who had reached the heights of mastery, I must have looked like an untested novice.
“I know the method, so don’t worry.”
These past ten years hadn’t been entirely idle.
The process of making Nokpaju was etched clearly into my mind.
<Then that’s fortunate. Ah, and drop the formality, would you? Friends shouldn’t be so stiff with each other—it makes me feel hurt.>
“Well… um…”
I cracked open the door I’d kept closed and looked up at Song Ha.
Aside from the odd manner of speech and clothes, one might have called him human without hesitation.
There was a particular aura about him that made it difficult to approach him carelessly.
In short, he was someone you couldn’t easily address informally just yet.
“Gradually.”
<This one’s quite shy, isn’t he? Hehehehe!>
I left Song Ha laughing behind me and stepped out of the office.
There were many things to attend to, but as promised, it was time to get to ‘work.’
* * *
“Yeon-u, are you sure you’re alright? Shouldn’t you really go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine. We can’t afford to stop working, you know.”
“Well, if you say so. But what exactly are we supposed to do?”
Se Joon, who’d followed me, asked again, still unable to see Song Ha.
“We need to make Nokpaju.”
“It’s not like it just appears when you decide to make it.”
“Still, we can’t do nothing.”
Se Joon scratched his head, perhaps weighed down by the burden of attempting something for the first time.
And I couldn’t exactly tell him that I was actually a Regressor with ten years of brewing experience under my belt, so you could just trust me.
“First, we need to make the brewing base.”
The recipes for Nokpaju appear in several old texts.
While texts like the Sallim Gyeongje, the Yangju-bang, and the Eumshik Dimibang differ slightly in their methods, the general approach follows the Dual-Stage Fermentation Method: first creating a brewing base with short-grain rice, then adding glutinous rice for the second fermentation.
My grandfather and I had followed the method recorded in the Sanga Yorok.
According to this early Joseon cookbook—which compiled all the recipes needed in a mountain household—the first thing we had to do was…
“Let’s get the short-grain rice first.”
<Now the real work begins.>
The brewing base work started by bringing out and sifting the short-grain rice stored in the warehouse.
Next, we’d steam it thoroughly, then pour boiling water over it to make a thick porridge.
“This is the high-fired rice, right?”
“Jie-bap. High-fired rice is rice cooked to be fluffy and well-separated.”
Unlike high-fired rice steamed in a basket with individual grains remaining distinct, Jie-bap is characterized by the addition of water to create a thicker, more porridge-like consistency that promotes fermentation.
After letting this porridge cool sufficiently, we mixed in the Nuruk and flour thoroughly.
“Lucky we still have Nuruk left.”
While most breweries use Japanese koji for uniformity and cost control, your grandfather always made his own Nuruk.
And that—that was truly difficult.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t match the quality your grandfather achieved, and I struggled for nearly three years because of it.
“Why are you putting in flour?”
“It prevents wild bacteria from growing during fermentation, and it adds umami to the flavor.”
After that, we’d transfer it to a well-sterilized earthenware jar and let it ferment for four days.
In other words, we had to wait.
But that didn’t mean our work was done.
Since Nokpaju required the Dual-Stage Fermentation Method, we had to add the secondary mash.
And since I had no intention of making this just once, there was always more work ahead.
“This is quite grueling.”
“I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”
“Well. Imagining something and actually doing it are two different things.”
Even as he said so, a smile played at the corners of Se Joon’s mouth, sweat beading on his brow.
He was someone who loved alcohol.
Which was why he’d been my partner in my previous life as well.
<It’s been ages since this place began to smell like brewing spirits.>
And listening to Song Ha’s words—my new spirit companion—I worked diligently at fermenting.
* * *
A month passed faster than I’d anticipated.
In that time, we’d managed to fill several jars with Nokpaju.
Of course, we hadn’t simply been waiting all this while.
Even now, I’d just returned to the brewing house after handling matters outside of fermentation work.
“Whew. There’s no end to the tasks. How did your grandfather manage all this alone?”
Se Joon clicked his tongue.
And with good reason.
We’d only just returned from checking on the rice we needed for brewing.
Like any other craft involving food, alcohol’s flavor and aroma depended critically on its raw materials.
No matter how skilled an artisan was, inferior rice couldn’t produce superior spirits.
Finding quality rice would be genuinely important for Songhwa-dang’s future.
“Would it have been difficult without grandfather’s effort?”
“Well, yes. He had impressive connections.”
Fortunately, we didn’t have to struggle quite as much.
Grandfather had a place where he’d been receiving rice from.
And it was somewhere I’d maintained dealings with for quite a long time in my previous life as well.
Since Yeongwol was a mountainous region, there weren’t many rice paddies, but they produced specialized premium varieties all the more refined.
The place we’d visited was one of them.
“The quality was genuinely excellent.”
Eco-friendly, naturally, and with low protein content—ideal for brewing.
How did I know that?
Remarkably, I could actually see the protein’s aroma and taste wavering before my eyes.
In any case, it was rice perfectly suited to Nokpaju, which showcased a clear, bright hue.
And being a local specialty with a short distance to travel, we could even receive freshly milled rice.
“Still, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me? You did all the checking on the rice. I don’t know anything about that.”
“I can’t carry all this alone.”
The truck bed was heaped with sacks of rice.
I’d tried to lift one casually, but my strength wouldn’t come close.
But if someone like Se Joon—towering, with nothing but muscle and not an ounce of fat—stepped up, what then?
“How can you not lift this? Unbelievable.”
Without so much as a shout, Se Joon lifted a forty-kilogram sack of rice with one hand as easily as a piece of styrofoam, hoisting one sack under each arm.
Defying the laws of physics with his astounding strength, he shouldered four sacks in total without breaking a single drop of sweat, and asked me:
“The storage room?”
“Yeah. That’s right. I’ll help.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”
And off he dashed.
<Has this fellow ever met a Dokkaebi before?>
“I hear it’s just heredity,” I answered.
<Hmm. General material, that one.>
When even Song Ha, a Dokkaebi herself, could only click her tongue in amazement, there was nothing more to say.
Se Joon returned after having actually carried all the rice by himself, and spoke:
“Phew. Now that I think about it—isn’t today the day?”
“Yeah, it is.”
And today was finally the day—thirty days had passed since the first batch of Nokpaju was brewed, and fermentation was complete.
“Phew. I’m so nervous.”
Se Joon, with a frame built sturdy enough to wrestle a wild boar bare-handed, was trembling.
I felt the same way.
I’d poured everything I’d learned in my past life into this, but there was no guarantee it would always succeed.
“Shall we open it?”
Click—as the lid came free, a clear and crystalline aroma drifted out.
And from within the jar emerged a graceful, elegant presence.
The moment I saw that figure swaying with a gentle smile—dancing softly through the air—I knew.
This was a success.
“Mm. The aroma’s good, but let’s taste it quick—I want to know if it’s good too.”
His earlier anxiety gone, Se Joon proved himself a true drinker, insisting we sample the flavor first.
I felt the same pull, so I picked up the ladle and poured the Nokpaju into a cup.
Plink-plink.
The liquid fell with a clean, bright sound.
And when I brought that clear liquor, shimmering with a subtle blue-green hue, to my lips…….
“Ahhh…….”
Admiration spilled out.

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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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