I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 41

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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 41. Korean Traditional Alcohol Festival (2)
“Well. At this point, you look like a real person now.”
“Was it really necessary to dress up this much?”
“No. From now on, you’re wearing nothing but formal suits, Yeon-u.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Your fashion sense has evaporated into thin air—you wouldn’t understand anyway. So please, just stick to dressing like this from now on.”
I looked in the mirror after hearing Se-jun’s words, but honestly, I couldn’t see much difference.
The only distinctions seemed to be that I was wearing a formal suit in a dark blue tone from top to bottom, and that the fit was sharper than anything I’d owned before.
“It does feel a little more comfortable, I guess?”
“Of course it does! Those clothes you were planning to wear—they were loose, sure, but so loose they were actually more uncomfortable!”
“Ah… I see…….”
The Korean Traditional Alcohol Festival—an annual exhibition held using spirits crafted from our farm’s agricultural products—takes place at the Convention Center in Gangnam.
It’s the only venue with good accessibility for visitors and expansive exhibition space.
Every year around this time, Se-jun and I would go to see what trends were emerging in spirits these days.
“But I never thought we’d actually be participants ourselves.”
“Of course we should participate! Look at what spirits we’ve made!”
“That’s true, I suppose.”
Songhaudang, once swayed by the smallest of wishes in my past life, existed no longer.
With the bonds we’d forged anew, we’d taken root firmly, and now nothing remained but to grow even higher.
“Wow. It’s already packed with people.”
“Did we arrive too late, Yeon-u?”
“No. We got here early enough. It’s them who came too soon.”
Even though it was early morning in November, the front of the exhibition hall bustled with crowds.
Liquor industry professionals and traditional alcohol enthusiasts gathered from all across the country.
And above the heads of those people, a massive banner reading “2XXX Republic of Korea Korean Traditional Alcohol Festival” gleamed as it caught the sunlight.
“Now it’s starting to feel real.”
“I honestly didn’t sleep at all last night, but I’m not even tired.”
“That’s just nerves.”
“You don’t think it’s the taste of success?”
“Cut the jokes and help me carry this luggage.”
I led Se-jun, who was joking around to ease my own tension, out of the car.
A heavy suitcase and boxes full of spirits stowed in the trunk.
Inside were brochures and leaflets stamped clearly with Songhaudang’s logo.
“Let’s hurry, Se-jun. We need to finish setting up before the doors open.”
“That’s what I should be saying. You just show up—I’ll carry things. I’m faster at it anyway.”
Se-jun effortlessly lifted and moved the box, which looked tremendously heavy at first glance.
Following him into the exhibition hall, I found hundreds of brewery booths displaying their wares beneath colorful lighting.
Some of the booths had already finished most of their setup.
It was only natural that my eyes drifted across the booths, packed with every conceivable type of spirit—as someone who loved alcohol.
Se-jun felt the same way.
“Wow. They made soju from sweet potatoes. I wonder what it tastes like? Do you think it’ll feel similar to regular soju?”
“I think it’ll probably have a heavier feel to it.”
“I’m really curious about it.”
“I get that you’re curious, but first we should take care of the people who are curious about our spirits.”
“Oh. Right.”
As I pulled the suitcase toward the pre-assigned central booth, I saw a white signboard come into view.
The moment I faced what hung at the top of the booth, my footsteps stopped.
[Sincerity Crafted Beneath the Pine—Songhaudang]
The name of our brewery, inscribed in neat lettering.
Named by my grandfather and blessed with the hopes of myself and our staff—words we were permitted to display.
Perhaps that’s why.
Se-jun gazed up at the signboard, overwhelmed with emotion, and spoke.
“Yeon-u… we really did work hard, didn’t we? My chest feels so grand.”
“This is just the beginning.”
From this day forward, Songhaudang would soar ever higher.
I lightly patted Se-jun’s shoulder, then opened the suitcase and organized the leaflets.
And I arranged our Songhaudang spirits—carefully packaged for this moment—across the front of the booth.
“You’re setting them up in that order?”
“Yes. It’s the path we’ve walked.”
A lineup running left to right: Meari, Meari: Autumn, and then Dalbord.
“So Hongya is… you’re going to do what you said yesterday?”
“Yeah. It’ll have way more impact that way.”
“Got it. Then… I’ll get these set up.”
They’d barely begun their preparations when it happened.
An announcement crackled through the speakers—the festival was opening.
The exhibition hall’s doors, which had been sealed shut, swung wide open.
“They’re coming.”
A literal tide of people surged in, flowing like a wave.
Each one had brought their own purpose, their own anticipation.
Some wanted to taste something delicious. Others craved something rare and unusual.
Maybe they were interested in running a brewery, or perhaps they were craftsmen fresh to the trade.
“Huh. Which way should we go?”
“Wow. This place is way bigger than I thought! And there are so many kinds!”
“First, if we want to set up meetings…”
To achieve their goals, people had to make their way into the booths.
And that same rule applied equally to everyone who’d come looking for Songhaudang.
“Yeon-u. Why are so many people heading straight for our booth?”
“Who knows?”
The greatest current of that human tide flowed without hesitation toward Songhaudang’s booth.
As people drew closer, their voices became audible.
“Isn’t this the environmental something-or-other place?”
“Finally getting to try that Songhaudang stuff that went viral on YouTube!”
“I kept hitting refresh and never got any! I’m definitely tasting it this time!”
In moments, the booth area was packed solid with dozens of people, shoulder to shoulder.
The recent YouTube upload had already drawn massive public attention.
So the crowd was inevitable.
“Welcome! This is Songhaudang!”
Se-jun took the microphone and raised the energy with his vibrant voice, setting off a flurry of activity behind the counter.
The first bottles to go out were Songhaudang’s signature Nokpaju—Meari.
The Nokpaju, which had been designed to capture the essence of a clear mountain, now performed its magic: it tasted like a mountain itself.
“Wow, people kept saying it was good and I was skeptical!”
“But it really does have that grassy note, and the flavor coats your mouth so clean and fresh, doesn’t it?”
Exclamations erupted from every corner.
With a faint smile, he poured the next round.
This time: an aged Yakju made from premium harvest rice collected in autumn and traditional Nuruk, pushed to its deepest, most refined potential—Meari: Autumn.
The liquid that poured out was clear yet weighty, visibly in a class of its own.
“To think such flavor could stay so consistent…”
“Honestly, it’s amazing. I didn’t know you could capture that nutty depth in a Yakju without it becoming cloying…”
Professional tasters and sommeliers in the crowd opened their eyes wide.
“Wow! This isn’t alcohol—it’s like melted, ripe grain! That subtle nutty aroma followed by a non-astringent Tannin with such deep Body—it’s art! Seriously, this place is unreal! Can we buy this here?”
A man with a selfie stick held his phone aloft, earnestly describing every detail.
People of all kinds were falling in love with Songhaudang’s creations.
The booth itself seemed to heat up like a furnace under the weight of their praise.
Through it all, Se-jun was swamped fielding inquiries for pamphlets and order forms.
“Boss! Sign this for me!”
“You’re amazing! Yeon-u Song!”
“Take a photo with us! Please!”
He weathered a barrage of camera flashes from strangers.
He signed autographs as they were thrust toward him.
Yet through it all, he kept his composure, calmly reaching for the next bottle.
“Wow. That must be Dalbord…”
“I’ve only ever seen it. Never actually tasted it…”
The Bokbunja Cask sourced from Seonun Mountain Bokdeongi Farm.
Aged within it to the apex of sweetness and smoothness—now came Dalbord’s turn.
“This next one is Dalbord: a Yakju aged in Bokbunja wine oak casks, based on the Iyangju we make at Songhaudang—Dongjeongchun.”
As the cork came free, an aroma so overwhelming it seemed to transform the very air of the exhibition hall burst forth.
The scent of dancing honey and vanilla.
Bokbunja darted playfully in all directions, inviting everyone to join—trailed steadily by the warm, nutty notes of rice and Nuruk.
A combination that approached perfection itself.
“Would you care to taste?”
“Of course! Absolutely!”
The moment people took a single drop of Dalbord into their mouths from the tasting glasses, their eyes closed as though they’d been transported to a state of rapture.
“…It’s extraordinary.”
“It’s deeper and richer than most whiskeys.”
“No, but the whole flavor profile is different. It’d be perfect for next season’s menu. Should we say something about it?”
“You came to enjoy yourself, so drink and stop talking about work.”
“But… Chef? We actually came here to work…….”
By now, not only those who’d come purely for pleasure but even the business-minded visitors had surrendered completely to the taste.
“This is huge, Yeon-u! The buyers are demanding to sign contracts on the spot!”
“Don’t go overboard with promises. We’re still small-scale—we can’t handle that kind of volume.”
Se-jun was practically shrieking his excitement into my ear, so I had to dampen his enthusiasm a bit.
Though I couldn’t claim to be calm myself.
“I think the crowd’s built up enough now. Should we bring it out?”
The energy inside the exhibition hall was reaching its absolute peak.
Even with staff dispatched to control the area around our booth, foot traffic had nearly ground to a halt,
and I knew with certainty that this was the moment.
The final piece we’d planned to unveil at this festival today.
I reached for the bottle slowly, deliberately, with weight.
Inside it, a deep crimson liquid caught the light.
“Wow…… look at that color.”
“You’re telling me that’s truly made from natural Red Koji alone?”
The spectators’ gazes converged on the bottle as if under a spell.
The shimmering, luminous red liquid within the transparent glass was itself a work of art, at least to my eye.
“Some of you may have heard rumors already, while others are experiencing this for the first time.”
I smiled and began pouring Hongya slowly into tasting glasses.
As the clear, crystalline red liquid filled each glass, the sweet, nutty, and faintly tart aroma of the red Nuruk—an aroma that artificial fragrances could never hope to replicate—enveloped everyone around the booth, numbing their senses.
※ The events and planning depicted in this novel are entirely fictional.

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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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