I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 6

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 6. JuJu Daily (1)
A car glided smoothly toward Song Ha-dang and came to a stop.
A man stepped out of the vehicle that had pulled into the parking lot designated for logistics.
“Is this it?”
Looking around, mountains and expansive sky came into view.
As he took in the vista of Song Ha-dang, situated in a place renowned for its clear water—a location any respectable brewmaster would covet—he murmured to himself.
“It hasn’t changed much.”
He reacted as though he already knew this place well.
And indeed, he was Yoon Ju-ho, owner of JuJu Daily—South Korea’s first and largest smart-order platform for liquor.
“Nothing’s really different from when I came before. Except for the old man’s absence.”
Recalling those early days when he’d personally done the legwork for his business, Ju-ho smiled wryly.
Song Tae-ho, who used to call himself a brewer or craftsman with self-deprecating modesty, was truly someone worthy of the title Master Craftsman.
Of course, the reason the CEO had come here in person was not merely nostalgia.
“Meari.”
He stroked his stubbled chin and murmured the name.
While not quite in the same league as renowned sommeliers, he prided himself on having exceptionally sensitive taste and smell.
Because of that refined palate, the Traditional Liquor called Meari—which alone had captivated him—was no ordinary spirit.
It wasn’t as though the liquor’s reputation and quality hadn’t been verified beforehand, either.
“I had tasted Nokpa-ju brewed at Song Ha-dang before, but this was on an entirely different level.”
True to form for a liquor connoisseur, Ju-ho had actually experienced the Nokpa-ju made by Song Ha-dang’s previous owner.
He had thought it delicious at the time.
“But compared to what I tasted this time… that was nothing at all.”
As the memory resurfaced, so did the sensation itself.
The moment he caught the aroma, green trees sprouted before his closed eyes.
Fresh grass grew at his feet, tickling his ankles.
With the hum of field insects came the soft caress of clean air mingling with dew.
It was only a matter of time before the glass he’d meant to set down tilted toward his lips.
And so a mountain unfurled before him.
“But it wasn’t just any mountain.”
There were a few other spirits that evoked grassy notes.
Most notably, Hakushu—a Japanese whisky distilled at the Hakushu distillery.
A whisky that many appreciated for its dewy, rain-dampened grass, green tea fields, and the fresh Phytoncide scent it conveyed.
But Meari did not stop there.
What bloomed in Ju-ho’s mind was not some famous mountain like Everest, but an ordinary Korean peak—a mountain brimming with verdant sensibility.
“Hmm.”
For such flavor and aroma to emerge, it had to be one of two things.
Either meticulous analysis and research had unlocked this harmony and produced such a taste.
Or it was simply raw talent.
“But there’s no way mere talent alone could achieve this level of refinement.”
That was why Ju-ho, despite being the CEO, had driven here himself.
Contract negotiations aside, as a true enthusiast, he had grown far too curious about this place.
He was taking his time, scanning his surroundings, when—
“Oh! You’ve arrived already?”
A burly man came hurrying over from the distance.
The voice seemed familiar; this must be the employee he’d spoken with on the phone.
Behind him, a young man in his twenties followed along.
That must be Song Yeon-u, Song Tae-ho’s grandson.
‘This young? The person who brewed that spirit?’
He’d heard that the one who inherited Song Ha-dang was a man in his twenties.
But to achieve a performance like Meari, experience was essential.
‘He must have brought in a skilled Master Craftsman. Good business sense.’
It was the natural conclusion.
There was no way someone this young could have designed a spirit like Meari.
Yet he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment.
Deep down, he had harbored a secret hope—what if the person who’d moved him with nothing but flavor and aroma, with no image or narrative to sell, had been this young man?
“Well then. How do you do? I apologize for arriving unannounced in my eagerness.”
But he couldn’t afford to show such thoughts.
After shaking hands with both of them in turn, Ju-ho got straight to business.
“So Meari—did the two of you create it together?”
“Yes, that’s right. Se-jun here has worked hard as well.”
“What are you talking about?”
Se-jun cut him off with a puzzled tilt of his head, contrary to the answer Yeon-u had expected.
He thumped Yeon-u on the back as he spoke.
“Meari is your work! From start to finish! I just did what I was told without knowing a thing. Ha ha ha!”
He said something Ju-ho could never have imagined.
* * *
“My work? What are you saying? We both struggled through this together.”
“That’s true. But you handled everything—the blending, the fermentation levels, all of it.”
I tried to smooth things over, but Se-jun stubbornly kept insisting the credit belonged to me.
Of course, if I only considered this life, he wasn’t wrong.
Yet without my research from my past life and Song Ha’s hints in this one, a liquor like this would have been impossible.
Still, Ju-ho, the president of JuJu Daily, gazed at me with gleaming eyes.
“Remarkable indeed.”
“Ah… well… thank you.”
“It seems my stubbornness in coming here uninvited was worthwhile. Ha ha ha!”
Ju-ho laughed heartily, radiating anticipation with his entire being.
Looking at him, my mind turned to the past.
To the many conversations we’d shared in my previous life.
Yoon Ju-ho had been a connoisseur who knew my grandfather well.
Not in the sense that he drank heavily, but that he genuinely loved liquor.
That’s why he’d thrown himself into brewing at a young age, and when he heard my ambition to create sake unique to Song Ha-dang, he’d been overjoyed.
He’d spoken of fresh blood being transfused into Korean spirits.
Even when the taste wasn’t quite right, he never stopped encouraging me, saying that the process of improvement was necessary.
He’d said it in that hearty way of his.
‘Song Ha-dang will surely come to be praised as the force that revived Korean brewing! I’m investing in that distant future. Ha ha ha!’
It wasn’t mere words of encouragement.
Whenever we brought out a new spirit, he’d contract it immediately and promote it for us.
And just before Song Ha-dang closed its doors, he’d gone out of his way to explore every possible avenue for us.
Yet JuJu Daily couldn’t remain at Song Ha-dang’s side to the end.
‘You’re closing JuJu Daily’s operations?’
JuJu Daily had fallen victim to one calamity after another.
The distillery we’d been about to contract with suddenly surged in popularity and grew distant from JuJu Daily.
The services we’d planned to launch were already being run by competitors, and JuJu Daily’s competitiveness only declined.
In the end, even though he’d tried to keep the business afloat by going into debt, he couldn’t hold on and collapsed.
In his final moment, he’d said to me:
‘I’m sorry. And what a shame. I wanted to make your spirits known to more people.’
Even though Song Ha-dang’s spirits supplied to JuJu Daily always had leftover inventory, he’d said that.
But this time would be different.
Because I’d set this entire thing in motion with that in mind.
“I never imagined you’d be so young. Your future is promising indeed. You’ve already created something magnificent, and who knows—Korean Traditional Liquor might become known across the whole world someday. Ha ha ha!”
Here he was, still showing me such kindness.
I had information this time, and I wouldn’t let him collapse helplessly like he had in my previous life.
Moreover, Ju-ho was absolutely essential to the blueprint I’d been drawing for my future.
And I owed him a debt of gratitude.
“Is that so?”
“Meari is already a magnificent spirit. That’s why I came here. Ha ha ha.”
This time, Meari had truly stirred his heart.
It was different from my previous life.
The corners of my mouth lifted slightly.
Yes, let’s move forward.
Into the future.
“I apologize for the late introduction. I’m Song Yeon-u, president of Song Ha-dang.”
“Yoon Ju-ho, JuJu Daily.”
And so I clasped the hand of that past-life connection once more.
In any case, I couldn’t afford to be neglectful in showing Ju-ho around.
He was able to look around various parts of the distillery interior, and Se-jun and I kindly explained whatever he was curious about.
“My, the brewery really has a remarkable atmosphere.”
“Since my grandfather’s time, we’ve aimed for a distillery at one with nature.”

Song Ha straightened his clothes and shrugged at Ju-ho’s compliment.
Of course, he couldn’t have seen himself that way, but Yoon Ju-ho circled the distillery, exclamations tumbling from his lips in a steady stream.
After spending some time touring Song Ha-dang and tasting both the base and second pressing of Nokpa-ju, Yoon Ju-ho headed toward the office with me.
Though it was called a tour, it was still meant to lead to a successful contract.
The moment he sat down, he spoke.
“Let’s sign.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Hah. You’re not surprised?”
“Because I was confident we’d brewed liquor worthy of your interest. Wasn’t that why you came here in person?”
I’d already been certain of it.
From the moment we’d arrived, his expression had been favorable.
Moreover, as we toured the distillery, his face grew progressively brighter, and by the time we entered the office, he was beaming—there was no room for any other thought.
As expected.
Yoon Ju-ho laughed loudly at my words.
“Ha ha ha! That’s exactly right! Absolutely right! I was completely enchanted after tasting Meari!”
“Of course. The liquor we brew is delicious.”
“Ha ha ha! Indeed it is! Ha ha ha! Well then, shall we discuss the real details?”
Yoon Ju-ho pulled out papers he’d prepared in advance and continued his explanation.
In truth, direct contracts with distilleries like this were rare.
Of course, I’d done business with other Traditional Liquor producers a few times, but those were places where Master Craftsmen worked.
“What price did you have in mind?”
“We’re currently selling at twenty thousand won per bottle.”
“Five hundred milliliters? Hmm. That’s a bit awkward.”
Given that we used a second pressing and required at least a month for aging, we had no choice but to maintain this price point.
Knowing that, Yoon Ju-ho was simply expressing regret.
What Nokpa-ju lacked wasn’t flavor—it was brand recognition.
Without that name value, we had fewer means to compete through lower pricing.
“At least it’s fortunate that it’s Traditional Liquor.”
“Yes. All the raw materials we use are domestic, sourced from the region.”
“And we’ve met all the standards.”
The fortunate thing, in this misfortune, was that Meari qualified as Traditional Liquor.
To receive a Liquor Tax exemption in South Korea, one had to obtain Traditional Liquor status.
This could be earned by being recognized as a Master Craftsman or Intangible Cultural Property, or by being made entirely from regional specialty products.
And Meari met those standards.
“Do you have plans to brew other liquors in the future? You had oak barrels.”
“Yes, that’s right. But I think we’ll need more time for now.”
“I anticipated that. You’ll clearly need facility expansion soon. Hmm… Oak Barrels, I see.”
Yoon Ju-ho’s expression grew more serious, and he rolled his pen between his fingers.
How could that be?
The reason lay in oak barrel aging.
Under the law, if liquor is aged in oak barrels for more than one year, it’s classified as whiskey or brandy and cannot qualify for Traditional Liquor status.
This is why most distilleries, even if they use oak barrels, typically age for less than a year.
But we had no intention of doing that.
Song Ha-dang’s liquor would always be made with sincerity.
Even if we could make superior liquor by holding to the law, we had no thought of cutting corners with aging.
“It seems we need to brand the distillery itself, starting with Meari. Word of mouth will be necessary too.”
“If the taste is good, won’t word of mouth spread naturally?”
“Hmm? Ha ha ha! You’ve got real confidence, and I like that. But… that alone won’t be enough.”
Yoon Ju-ho’s answer to Se-jun’s remark was correct.
Brewing fine liquor was our responsibility and duty as distillers, but that wasn’t the only factor determining whether it reached consumers.
This was when I played my trump card toward Yoon Ju-ho, who’d been deep in thought.
“Would it be all right if I made a proposal?”
“Hmm? What kind of proposal?”
“I heard there’s a project JuJu Daily has been wanting to move forward with.”
“Yes?”
The mood shifted the moment I finished speaking.
The warm smile that had graced Yoon Ju-ho’s face until moments ago vanished instantly.
Even Se-jun, despite his large frame, swallowed hard in that atmosphere.
In the anxious silence, Yoon Ju-ho finally opened his mouth, his fingers fidgeting.
“Where… did you hear that?”
Now we proceed according to plan.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————