I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 54

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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 54. A Hundred Days of Spirits (1)
“Is this really… our beer?”
After work had ended, Eun-chae’s voice trembled ever so slightly.
On the smartphone screen in her hand, South Korea’s premier liquor communities, social media feeds, and the main pages of major portal sites were updating in real time, all spilling out the same words.
Cheongsan IPA.
The Hop’s new IPA, brewed with domestic Korean indigenous hops, had upended the beer market landscape the moment it launched.
Sensational headlines—”The Modern Rebellion of Traditional Spirits,” “A New Era for Craft Beer”—flooded the internet.
“I never thought it would go this far…….”
“No, I had a feeling it might actually end up like this.”
Jin-woo spoke while gripping his trembling wrist—exhausted from pouring too many beers that evening.
It had been exactly one month since The Hop began selling Cheongsan IPA.
By now, The Hop had become so famous among beer enthusiasts that not knowing about it would practically make you a spy.
Word of mouth spawned more word of mouth across social media and beyond—a phenomenon born of itself.
As a result, they’d paid off every debt that had accumulated, and were now considering expanding the shop itself.
“We can’t even get customers through the door at this point.”
“I never thought something like this would actually happen…….”
“So what do we do? About them wanting to stock our Cheongsan IPA?”
But that wasn’t all.
A well-known convenience store merchandise director, having caught wind of these changes, had called directly.
They’d proposed rolling out Cheongsan IPA nationwide as a featured product across all their stores.
The situation that had once left them without a single customer had been completely transformed.
“I… should probably ask the representative first…….”
Eun-chae reached for the phone to call Yeon-woo, the head of Songhada.
The Hop was now registered with the Songhada Brewer Cooperative.
And since Yeon-woo was the one who had practically made the Cheongsan IPA happen, she wanted to consult him all the more.
But Jin-woo’s next words stopped her in her tracks.
“I already asked. The representative said to just go ahead and do it.”
“Really? That’s bound to be good for Songhada, isn’t it?”
“It is. But he said he doesn’t have the authority to make that call himself.”
The Yeon-woo that Jin-woo recalled had responded with remarkable composure.
He’d offered genuine congratulations about the convenience store’s interest, but he hadn’t made any decision about it himself.
And he’d said it like this:
“Our cooperative was founded to brew spirits. Each of you is free to earn money however you wish.”
How different this was from other cooperatives, which had become obsessed with profit and were willing to compromise even the taste of their beer.
Hearing this, Jin-woo had resolved then and there to stake his future with Yeon-woo’s cooperative.
“So what do you think?”
“Hmm… I want to move forward carefully, step by step.”
It was too good an opportunity to simply pass up.
But neither did he intend to do it carelessly.
The very reason Cheongsan IPA had gained its reputation was its taste.
A flavor that felt like standing in Arcadia itself, true to the name Cheongsan—blue mountain.
To dilute that quality during distribution would only harm The Hop.
“And when I said we’d do it, the representative offered to help. With labels, design, and distribution channels too.”
“To that extent?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“Wow…….”
If angels truly existed in this world, surely they would look like this.
Not only had he revived a failing brewery, but he continued extending a helping hand without end.
“This won’t do. I need to call him right now and thank him.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
So they called the angel who actually existed—Yeon-woo—but the phone wouldn’t connect.
“Huh? It’s off?”
“Must be very busy.”
This couple had no idea.
Of the aftershocks Cheongsan IPA’s success was sending through Songhada.
How many calls Yeon-woo and everyone else at Songhada fielded every single day as a result of those reverberations.
“Well! We can just call again later!”
“That’s right! That’s right!”
And if you counted all the thank-you calls and messages this couple had sent to Yeon-woo, the number well exceeded a hundred.
* * *
Heh heh. So something like that happened to you, Master?
“Well, yes…….”
It’s not just because you’re competent, it’s because all your companions are skilled. Heh heh.
“I’m grateful you’d say so.”
I exhaled the breath I’d been holding as Hyo-gi and Song-ha spoke, offering my reply.
It wasn’t a sigh.
There was no reason for Songhada to be sighing just now.
If anything, it was the opposite.
“I never expected things to go this well.”
I’d thought it was delicious, but I hadn’t anticipated such an explosive response.
Only a month.
In just one month, Cheongsan IPA had gained enough renown to proudly claim its name across South Korea.
“Really, it was just a convergence of good fortune.”
First, The Hop had an excellent location.
The foothills of Dobongsan.
A commercial zone thronged with countless hikers and foreign visitors.
And there, The Hop, emanating a quiet, serene atmosphere.
People who’d come down the mountain wanted a refreshing drink, and paired with that, Cheongsan IPA—brimming with the crisp, cool clarity of pine—was the perfect choice.
“And the trend happened to align perfectly.”
In the past, the traditional path down Dobongsan was dominated by the pairing of pajeon with makgeolli, or samgyetang with soju.
It’s genuinely a delicious combination.
It’s also one that can’t really fail.
But over recent years, as the twenties and thirties generation took up hiking as a hobby, a new pairing was born.
“And that pairing, I heard, is beer.”
To be honest, when I first heard it, I thought it was strange.
But thinking it over, it did have its appeal.
Coming down sweaty, then enjoying a refreshing, refined craft beer.
Isn’t that nice?
“And because it’s close to the city yet still somewhat removed, it got connected to the keyword of healing.”
The location at the foothills of Dobongsan was a powerful weapon for The Hop that no urban pub surrounded by concrete could ever replicate.
The verdant vista of Dobongsan visible from the outdoor terrace and rooftop space directly struck the sensibilities of social media users.
And to top it off, a subway station was positioned nearby, ensuring solid accessibility.
But still, if there hadn’t been delicious alcohol, none of this would ever have happened.
I agree with what Song-ha says, Master.
Tsk tsk! This fellow speaks only truth! If that weren’t the case, you wouldn’t have come running here! Tsk tsk!
Mok-tong was right.
Right now, I’m here in the Fermentation Room of Songhada—I came to escape.
“I never thought I’d experience my phone battery being drained from calls and messages.”
The success of Cheongsan IPA naturally turned attention toward the background from which it was born.
People didn’t stop at simply noting that a delicious beer had arrived; they began to focus on the backstory and narrative behind how this alcohol came to be.
And then they noticed.
‘Wait, what’s written here?’
‘Songha… Dang? Songhada? Where have I heard that before…….’
Of course, most casual drinkers probably felt an inexplicable sense of déjà vu and then concentrated on enjoying their beer.
But for those who truly loved alcohol, the story was different.
‘Hey! Did you say Songhada?’
‘Isn’t that the place that swept every award in the sweet rice wine category at the National Alcohol Tasting?’
‘Wow. They’re even doing beer now? Weren’t they originally making traditional Korean alcohol?’
And the curiosity that bloomed this way merged with the existing story that Jin-woo and Eun-chae held, creating a narrative…….
‘So then… Songhada saved The Hop?’
‘This beer was made by Songhada, wasn’t it?’
‘How did they go from making traditional alcohol to brewing beer?’
Around that time, Seo-ah, the president of Hoptorang—the company that had succeeded in developing and distributing domestic Korean indigenous hops—conducted an interview with a local newspaper.
‘You’ve accomplished something remarkable, but I imagine Korean indigenous hops still aren’t widely known.’
‘It’s been really difficult, honestly……. There were days when the company nearly collapsed—almost every other day… Phew. But things are okay now!’
‘Really? You say things are okay?’
‘Have you heard of Songhada?’
For beer enthusiasts across the nation, the very existence of indigenous hops would have been shocking.
But the fact that someone had actually discovered this supplier and then crafted beer using those hops—they were absolutely thrilled.
‘So Songhada saved two people, then?’
‘I feel like I’ve given myself a new lease on life. I live near Dobongsan, and I’m there drinking every single day.’
‘Your wallet hasn’t survived though, has it?’
It was amid this festive atmosphere that word of the Songhada Brewer Cooperative began to spread.
​[[Feature Coverage] Breaking Down the Walls of Monopoly: The Songhada Cooperative’s Aesthetic of Coexistence]
[What hope do small breweries have in a world dominated by corporate capital and a deluge of marketing?]
[The model of coexistence they’ve demonstrated has been praised for achieving two birds with one stone: revitalizing a stagnant local economy and preserving traditional culture…….]
The media had caught the scent and came running.
​Once the article broke, public opinion ignited beyond all control.

“Terrifyingly so.”