I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 31

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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 31. The Sweet Palace, Dalboard (1)
Inside the onggi with its lid removed, a clear spirit shimmered.
And floating above it, aromas that resembled fairies dancing in the air.
Until now, the fragrances had mainly conjured images of flower viewing in clean mountains or sweet palaces.
But this time, something felt vastly different.
“Ah…….”

The first sensation was a crisp, tropical-fruit sweetness.
Pineapple and guava notes—simultaneously sugary and tart—dominated the bouquet.
Woven through it all was a heavy, creamy fragrance that lingered.
“It’s truly beautiful.”
The fairies themselves were beautiful too.
A tall, East Asian-style pavilion rose before the imagination.
Beneath the ornate decorative woodwork, fragrances dressed in brilliant crimson hanbok gathered, each displaying its own bewitching grace.
One could almost feel that stepping inside would sweep you away, drowning you in enchantment.
So one thing was certain.
“This is a success.”

Perhaps it was thanks to the Muyu Onggi and the thin layer of ash-water coating on the other vessel.
Mok-tong said the spirit had been drawn off more smoothly than usual.
Likely because of the onggi’s characteristic pores and breathability.
Whether a goblin’s existence was affected by such scientific principles, he couldn’t say.
And the staff at Songhadan had also spoken well of this spirit.
“Wow. The aroma is insane?”
“It feels incredibly refined!”
“Seriously! It smells like something you’d never be able to afford with the money we have right now!”
“Ye-hyeon… our money… the boss gave us…….”
There was something at the end that shouldn’t be repeated, but wasn’t that very proof of how moved they all were?
But spirits must be enjoyed for their fragrance, and equally for their taste.
Se-jun hurried off, returned with cups for everyone, and began pouring the spirit as he spoke.
“Let’s have a taste. My mouth’s already watering.”
“Yes!”
They clinked their glasses lightly and let the spirit slip across their tongues.
Sensation bloomed at once.
No—it transcended sensation entirely.
Tropical fruits of every hue danced across the palate.
They burst and melted, scattering their juices across the mouth in waves of flavor.
Simultaneously, the taste of deep red fruit, thick as jam, lodged between gums and teeth, continuing to radiate brightness.
A full body paired with an elegant, classical acidity.
But there was more to come.
“Ah… this…… Why does it feel so effortless?”
“The gravity reading was definitely eighteen percent ABV. There’s considerable impact.”
“Oh! I think I understand what you mean! There’s a strong body, but I don’t feel any of that alcohol burn at all!”
“It’s delicious…….”
The sensation that people usually dislike in higher-proof spirits is that burning scratch of alcohol down the throat.
Speak kindly of it and you call it alcohol impact; speak harshly and you say the burn is severe.
To some degree it can be considered part of the spirit’s character, but excess becomes burdensome.
This, however, was different.
The alcohol’s distinctive impact was present, but it never became oppressive.

This was the power of the onggi that Gyeong-sik had crafted.
The ash-water made from burned oak captured every unwanted flavor, and as the liquid passed through the pores of the iron-rich onggi, the harsh edges were gently smoothed away.
Which meant that without this onggi, such a spirit could never have been created.
“Amazing. How did you even think of making something like this, Yeon-u?”
“That’s what I’m saying! He just worked away, and suddenly produced a spirit like this!”
“I honestly didn’t believe it—boss, don’t you have some kind of magic trick or something?”
“I agree…….”
No magic—but a goblin was real.
More than that, his ability to craft such a spirit so quickly owed much to his past life.
This was a liquor I’d tried to brew once in my previous life.
I could say it was a spirit made through Se-jun’s and my efforts.
Unlike other traditional Korean liquors that had been criticized for lacking competitiveness, public reception to Hong-ya was rather favorable.
Of course, that was only in comparison to the previous batches.
‘The aroma’s fine, but isn’t the flavor a bit too strong?’
‘Too sour.’
‘Ugh. Smells like alcohol.’
The color and aroma had turned out excellently, but we’d failed to nail the taste.
I’d wanted a deep tartness, but what we got was nothing but a sharp sourness reeking of raw alcohol.
That such a flawed spirit had barely managed to sustain Songhadan at the time struck me as deeply ironic.
“So what’s the name of this spirit?”
“Hong-ya. I’m going to call it Hong-ya.”
Red night—Hong-ya.
Isn’t it a fitting name?
Made with red koji, giving it that crimson hue, paired with the scent of red fruits and a deep, subtle flavor.
It was truly a spirit befitting the essence of a red night.
Se-jun, who’d nodded in agreement that I should be the one to handle naming, suddenly snapped his fingers and spoke up.
“Right, at this rate we could bottle and sell it right away, yeah?”
“Not quite yet.”
While onggi vessels have advantages for fermentation and aging, they have clear drawbacks as well.
Namely, that each individual onggi vessel yields different performance and results.
Because of that, calling this single success a complete success would be premature judgment.
“So when the other onggi vessels arrive, I’ll stagger the aging cycles with slight time gaps.”
“Ah, I see. So you’ll blend them when you bottle?”
“Right. That way we’ll get consistent enough flavor to make it market-ready.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”
Se-jun picked up my phone, which I’d set aside to check on the spirit, and grinned widely at the screen.
A single text message was displayed on the phone.
[Gyeong-sik: Done. Come pick it up.]
“Let’s go collect the onggi vessels.”
“I’ll start thinking about label designs to match! My heart’s already racing!”
<Tsk tsk. Another fine spirit being born!>
<Congratulations. A good thing indeed.>
Another spirit was being born at Songhadan.
* * *
– Wow! This is really delicious! The way this sweetness fills right up to the back of my throat, it’s just… I don’t know how to describe it…
– It’s like having honey and candy all packed in your mouth, isn’t it?
– Exactly! That’s exactly how it feels!
Su-bin’s radiant smile flowed through the screen.
That smile, bright enough to captivate nearly anyone, was surely unintentional.
There’s no way such a reaction could arise unless she was genuinely drinking a delicious spirit and that smile came from her honest heart.
And the comments reflected that as well.
– Lol watched this video and immediately bought Dalboard
└ How’d you get it? It’s always sold out when I check
└ Grit your teeth and spam F5 all night, break through the bots and you’ll snag one lol you’re not trying hard enough
└ Wow crazy dedication respect
After watching the video, people were curious how Su-bin could possibly have such a reaction, so they’d rushed to buy Dalboard.
But that wasn’t all.
– Is that distillery owner actually the real deal? Looks like they recruited an aspiring actor
└ Honestly I thought at first he was just an actor reading lines, his face is insane
└ He’s legit. His name’s Yeon-u and he’s 26 this year. If you don’t believe me check Trivia Wiki, it’s documented there
└ No way;; life’s so unfair
Comments about Yeon-u, Songhadan’s proprietor, followed as well.
A young distillery owner in his twenties with a handsome face at that.
It was perfect fodder for gossip.
Moreover, his skill was exceptional—every spirit he’d personally crafted so far was beyond reproach in taste.
– Isn’t traditional liquor basically the domain of guys in their 50s and 60s?
└ Yeah mostly. In the traditional liquor world, a 50-year-old is basically the young chairman.
└ So that guy’s an outlier. Brewing has so many variables that pulling off consistent high-quality results in his age without experience is basically impossible. It’s either a fluke or viral marketing
└ But Yeon-u proved it with the final product, so why the hate?
└ Ah, this is so frustrating. That’s what I’m saying—it’s an absurd thing that doesn’t make logical sense.
The comment wasn’t wrong.
What is liquor, after all?
In theory, anything with sugar that can trigger yeast fermentation can be turned into liquor.
But that’s only about producing an alcoholic beverage—nothing more.
To craft something that tastes genuinely good, and to draw out an intentional flavor profile, every detail becomes a variable.
What raw materials were used, where fermentation and aging took place, how much water was added, what type of nuruk was employed—the list goes on.
Countless variables interweave to create a single, irreplaceable flavor.
Master brewers endure through those years, persevering.
Among them, those who discover how to craft truly excellent liquor are few and far between.
But what of Yeon-u?
The moment he touches a batch, he produces something delicious.
As if he were glimpsing the liquor’s future.
Or perhaps as if he’d already seen that future and come back.
“Truly a remarkable fellow…….”
The man murmured admiringly, watching Yeon-u on screen—smiling softly as he explained the Dalboard.
Had there ever been an aged sweet rice wine that went viral with such overwhelming success?
At least not in his memory.
Of course, there had been a few.
But those were only cases where an artist had been involved, or where a new interpretation didn’t just accompany but completely overturned the essence of traditional Korean liquor.
He couldn’t recognize those as true traditional liquor.
“Yet Songhadan drew this kind of response with scarcely any publicity…….”
Not that they hadn’t done any promotion.
An interview with the Korea Daily.
A pop-up store at Sunkyung Department Store.
And finally, the appearance of Su-bin—the trendiest actress making waves these days.
But such things never sustain lasting popularity.
In the end, liquor is something that must prove itself through taste alone.
“Setting Dalboard aside, Me-a-ri hardly received any proper publicity at all…….”
Particularly the green makgeolli Me-a-ri had virtually no promotion to speak of.
And yet Me-a-ri’s popularity on social media was climbing higher by the day.
The reason was simple.
“It was genuinely delicious…….”
A refreshing sensation as if you held a full mountain in your mouth.
No—not refreshing but crystalline clarity.
The bright, luminous essence of clean mountains.
And Me-a-ri: Autumn, the aged version of that Me-a-ri—what of that?
“That was surely an intentional taste.”
The deep aroma of grain, as if capturing autumn itself.
With that fragrant nuttiness came the nuanced flavor of tree nuts and the sweet, fruited flesh of harvest.
A liquor that embodied the very essence of a rich autumn mountain—what else could it be but intent?
“Professor Jeong Man-hu, do you think we should head upstairs soon?”
“Ah, perhaps. Have I been holding you up for too long?”
Professor Jeong Man-hu smiled sheepishly at the words of the man sitting in the driver’s seat and pocketed the phone he’d been holding.
His salt-and-pepper hair carried an intellectual air.
And his eyes, when lit by a warm, benevolent smile, held a sharp edge beneath.
“Were you watching the Songhadan video just now?”
“Ah, yes. It seems to stay with me these days.”
That brewery is fortunate to catch the eye of a Korea University fermented foods professor.”
“Please, don’t overstate it. Heh heh heh.”
His words said one thing, but reality was quite different.
Jeong Man-hu: Korea University professor of fermented foods.
His other profession was that of a Traditional Korean liquor sommelier.
And not merely one who could discern taste and aroma—he was remarkable enough to have participated in several traditional liquor restoration projects.
He’d even managed to recreate flavors as they were described in historical records, so his standing hardly needed further explanation.
It was this man whose attention had been caught by Songhadan, operated with ambition and competence by a young proprietor.
‘I haven’t had a chance to taste Dalboard yet… but I find myself quite eager.’
“Then we shall escort you to the Korean Liquor Tasting Symposium blind tasting venue.”
“Much obliged.”
Professor Jeong Man-hu, selected as a blind panelist for the Korean Liquor Tasting Symposium where Dalboard had been submitted, stepped forward.

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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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