I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 56

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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 56. One Hundred Days of Liquor (3)
Han Gyeong-su.
In his past life, he had made a name for himself as a distinguished sommelier and critic renowned throughout the traditional Korean alcohol industry.
After the Regression, he’d thought their paths would never cross again, but they had encountered each other at an event held with some elderly neighbors not long ago.
“I never expected you to reach out first.”
“Hmm? Who is this?”
“Ah, right. You remember that event we held with the neighborhood elders? We met there.”
“Ah yes. Is there something you needed?”
“It seems the liquor we made impressed you.”
He needed to share the idea that had flashed through his mind, however brief.
Even typing on a phone keypad, he pressed each letter firmly, crafting his message with care.
[Me: We’ve brewed quite a lot of liquor since then. I’d like to visit you sometime, sir.]
Then came the reply, swift as though he’d been waiting.
[Han Gyeong-su: Not at all. I’ll visit you instead. When would be convenient for you, Song?]
* * *
To cut to the conclusion, the meeting with Gyeong-su happened that very day.
Having heard that he was welcome to visit anytime, Gyeong-su had arrived at Songhada shortly after, saying he’d take the liberty of coming by right then.
“It’s been far too long. Song.”
“Indeed, it really has been, sir.”
“Hah. Sir? That’s too formal. I’m just a retired old man, nothing more.”
Gyeong-su waved his hand as he spoke, but who could truly look at him and think such a thing?
Though time had etched lines across his face and hands, each crease seemed to contain a wealth of experience and seasoned composure—it was something you could feel through the skin.
True, he wore a worn checkered shirt at the moment, but put him in formal attire and he’d emanate the aura of an active legal professional.
“I realize it’s presumptuous of me to drop by without warning, but the neighbors have been quite insistent. Hah.”
“The neighbors, you mean…”
“The villagers. They’ve been unsettled ever since that day, you see. So…”
“Unsettled?”
Unsettled? Had something happened to them?
The village elders meant a great deal to him.
They remembered him as a child and Songhada, and they’d always had a warm relationship with his grandfather too.
From what he’d heard, when his grandfather first began operating the distillery and was short-handed, the neighbors would often turn up together to lend a hand.
And when the recent protests had occurred, hadn’t they flushed with genuine concern and stood firmly in Songhada’s corner?
“Has something troubled them?”
“Hah. I’m afraid this old man hasn’t been considerate of your feelings. It’s nothing serious, really. They’ve simply been complaining that the taste of liquor these days isn’t what it used to be.”
“I see?”
“Ever since drinking here that one time, they’ve been like this ever since.”
So the problem was that the taste of liquor wasn’t as good as it had been before?
Was it because their palates had become refined after experiencing Songhada’s Meari?
“So that’s…”
“Embarrassing, isn’t it? Coming here to impose on you with an old man’s complaints. But what can you do when he’s such a dear friend?”
Gyeong-su scratched his head, looking a bit sheepish.
Yet his expression held an ease that hadn’t been there before.
Though it might be presumptuous to say so, when they’d last met, there had been something about him that seemed out of place.
The village elders had called him by name and tried to include him, but there’d been an unmistakable distance in his manner, as if he were pulling away.
But that was certainly no longer the case.
There was no other way he could wear such an expression.
“I’m glad.”
“Glad about what?”
“You seem to be in good spirits.”
At his words, Gyeong-su’s eyes widened, and then he broke into laughter.
“Hahaha! That’s true. I’ve felt a bit more at ease lately.”
“If that’s all it would have taken, I would have visited sooner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know why those friends didn’t come to see you themselves? We all know how busy you are as the owner of Songhada.”
The village elders weren’t accustomed to using the internet or mobile phones.
But through various channels, they’d heard news of Songhada.
“When I told them you’d swept the sweet rice wine category at the recent Korean liquor competition, they said they’d expected nothing less. Then they decided to leave you alone since you must be even busier.”
“Ah…”
“Coming here was entirely my own choice. Indulging their complaints—well, I suppose it’s what comes with age and weariness. Hah.”
“We have plenty of good liquor. Would you like to taste some? I’ll drive us.”
“Thank you, Song. I’m not one to pass up such an opportunity. Hah.”
We chatted pleasantly as we entered the distillery together with Gyeong-su.
We tried Meari and Meari: Autumn, which I’d already tasted before.
And this time, I poured him a glass of Dalbord, our latest release.
“I felt it last time too, but this liquor has such an intuitive flavor.”
“How did you find it?”
“I heard a fine liquor came from a local distillery, so I had to try it. It was truly elegant and intuitively sweet. Like a palace built from candy. I mean honey-dripping sweets.”
Gyeong-su’s gift for expression never wavered.
The ability to explain things simply and directly in a way people could grasp.
What’s more, the impressions he described aligned remarkably well with the actual flavors and aromas I’d experienced myself.
A man who captured the distillery’s intent perfectly while rendering it in such vivid language.
It made sense he’d written the bible of traditional Korean alcohol enthusiasts in his past life.
“Each sip brings a fresh wave of emotion. Heh.”
“Have you tried this one as well?”
“Hongya, isn’t it? No, unfortunately not yet.”
“Then let me pour you a glass.”
The deep crimson liquor, born from red koji, flowed smoothly into the glass.
Gyeong-su tilted the glass slightly to observe the legs trailing down the sides, then wetted his lips.
A satisfied expression crossed his face as he continued.
“Do you know why I call you ‘Teacher’ instead of anything else?”
“No, I’m not sure.”
“One could use ‘Director’ or ‘Manager,’ of course. But you’re the sort of person that ‘Teacher’ suits. Someone who understands liquor like this can’t possibly be chasing money alone.”
“I like money too.”
“Everyone does. But the point is…….”
Gyeong-su, clearly delighted by the taste of Hongya, took a longer sip this time before speaking.
“The real question is why you like it.”
“Why I like it…….”
“Do you feel a thrill watching the digits in your bank account increase?”
It was a question I’d never considered.
The phrasing was odd, but truthfully, there’d been no real cause to think about it in the first place.
For me, money didn’t need to be enormous.
Honestly, I’d never harbored much ambition for ostentatious living.
“Your reason for earning money isn’t the money itself. It’s people.”
Money accumulating is pleasant, certainly.
But that pleasure was too ambiguous to call a thrill.
More money means I can reinvest—that’s pleasant.
High sales mean the product sold well—that’s pleasant.
High sales mean the liquor was recognized—that’s pleasant.
“That’s why ‘Teacher’ fits better than ‘Director’ or ‘Manager.'”
Gyeong-su set down his empty glass.
With a soft clink, he slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine.
His eyes, sharper than before, fixed on me with sudden intensity.
“It seems you have something you’d like to say, Teacher.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“When you spend your days doing business, all you really learn is how to read the other person’s intent.”
“Then I’ll be direct. Would you consider joining Songhada?”
Gyeong-su would be a perfect fit.
A man who’d handled legal matters from the very top of the prestigious Seongyeong Group.
Of course, legal and tax matters are distinct fields in practice.
But I’d heard something during the Seongyeong Department Store popup store contract negotiations last time.
‘Han Gyeong-su?’
‘Yes. I’ve met him once before.’
‘Do you know where he is now?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Seriously, do you happen to know his current location? Could you let us know?’
‘To that extent?’
Gyeong-su was a master of these matters.
A man who’d learned tax law specifically to handle legal issues.
But there was more than that.
There were rumors he was one of the architects behind the Seongyeong Group as it stands today.
For reasons unknown, he’d suddenly declared his retirement and disappeared from view.
Many companies should have extended offers, but I’d heard that he himself was unreachable, making it impossible.
“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not hear such talk.”
“But…….”
“No. I mean it.”
Through eyes that had gone completely clouded—drained of all the vitality from moments before—I could see the truth of it.
“Really, it’s fine. Song-ha.”
I’d touched on something I knew nothing about.
* * *
“What were you two talking about?”
“Hm? Oh. Nothing much.”
I deflected Se-jun’s question vaguely enough.
It was, strictly speaking, a lie.
I’d proposed that he join me, but he’d refused on the spot.
Even as I drove for him since he’d had a drink and couldn’t manage the wheel himself, Han Gyeong-su said nothing at all.
He only stared out the window, lost in some distant place.
When we arrived in the village, he insisted on paying for all the drinks I’d brought him before heading back.
There was clearly something more to it.
“Hold on, I need to make a call.”
“Hm? Looking to hire someone?”
“Something like that.”
To untangle the knot of thoughts in my head, I sat in the gazebo at the edge of Songhada’s garden and dialed a number.
The call connected immediately, as though he’d been waiting.
— Who is this! A new liquor?
“Not yet.”
— Ah, shame. I was hoping. So what’s the matter?
Yun Ju-ho, CEO of JuJu Daily.
Given his connections to Seongyeong in linking the pop-up store, I thought he might know quite a lot, so I’d reached out.
“Do you happen to know Attorney Han Gyeong-su?”
— Hmm… I never thought I’d hear that name from you.
“You know him?”
— How could I not? Anyone who moves money around wanted to work with that man. What he did before retirement still lives as legend. Seongyeong had a massive overseas acquisition deal.
Years ago, Seongyeong Group had pushed a two-trillion-won merger and acquisition project with everything they had, only to face the brink of collapse.
It was something that stretched over a decade when you counted the regression, but I could remember it because it’d been all over the news.
— Sudden legal obstruction from the local regulatory authority and monopoly concerns. It was a real headache, I heard. Dozens of in-house lawyers and global megafirms burned the midnight oil churning out thousands of pages of rebuttals, but word was it wouldn’t be enough to sway the regulators. Everyone thought so.
“And then?”
— Han Gyeong-su flipped it completely. Three sentences. That’s all it took.
Not thousands of pages of legal justification, but three clauses containing justification the local authorities couldn’t refuse.
Three sentences, perfectly refined in legal principle, and the entire frame shifted.
— So you can imagine the rest. But why are you asking?
“I’d actually proposed working together. He seemed fond of drink.”
— Phoooop! *Cough!* *Hack!* What did you say?
I could hear it through the receiver—Representative Yun’s bewilderment was unmistakable.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d have reacted the same way.
No matter how well Songhada was doing lately, we were still too small to reach the toes of a conglomerate.
— Ahem. What did he say to you?
“He rejected me right away, but… wait. That friend?”
— Mm…… I’m only telling you this because you’re the boss. You understand? That fellow actually loves drink too. We happened to grow close somehow. It’s gossip I heard from him, but…….
Ju-ho hesitated long before finally speaking.
— When that happened, his wife passed away. He didn’t even make it in time to say goodbye.
It was quite a dark story. More than quite—terribly dark.

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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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