I Regressed and Became Too Good at Brewing - Chapter 8

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

Episode 8. Two New Encounters (1)
Winter had arrived in full force, the crisp chill of early autumn now giving way to genuine cold.
It had been roughly three months since the contract with Jujudaily — a span of time so brief it barely seemed real.
Yet in those three months, Songhadan had transformed.
Transformed in ways that three months should never permit.
“Over here! This way!”
So many vehicles they were nearly impossible to manage.
All of them had come to distribute Meari.
“Phew. This is absolutely maddening.”
A groan escaped me as I wiped sweat from my forehead.
Jujudaily’s response to Meari had been nothing short of explosive.
The initial projection of five hundred bottles had sold out long ago, and we’d already needed to send additional shipments.
And that wasn’t even the half of it.
“The Post Office Shopping Mall has been calling nonstop, practically losing their minds…….”
Likely because Jujudaily had announced they’d sold out.
Now eager buyers had flooded the Post Office Shopping Mall instead.
Compared to selling merely a hundred bottles during the holiday season in the past, this was a world of difference.
“Add to that the wholesale orders coming in from individual contacts…….”
I was glad we’d expanded the facilities.
Without doing so, there’s no way we could have handled this volume.
How hard Se-jun and I must have worked to manage this much production in a small brewery like Songhadan.
The evidence was written across our faces — deep dark circles beneath our eyes.
“Are you two sure you’re all right?”
“We’re fine… we’re fine… aren’t we?”
“Mm… look here. Don’t you think you need rest? Even a Dokkaebi takes breaks when it’s time. How can you, with human flesh and bone, drive yourselves so relentlessly?”
When Song-ha, standing beside me, worried like this, it said everything.
Yet we couldn’t stop.
We couldn’t settle for this.
We had to brew Songhadan’s own spirit, and the goal was to brew the finest.
We had to grow the business to rescue Dokkaebi across the nation — across the world, even.
And to that end, I carved out time from every corner to immerse myself in research.
Through various experiments, we studied diverse flavors and aromas.
Song-ha’s ability had reduced much of the Trial and Error, certainly.
“Yesterday’s loss was such a shame.”
“Still, that batch was horrible.”
“Indeed… but wasn’t that your effort bottled?”
Just yesterday, we’d disposed of entire batches we’d made for research.
We didn’t even have to open them to know.
The aromas sagging limply inside were nightmarish — like the stench of decay itself come to life.
That’s what Song-ha had said.
“This… is not spirit……. It will be difficult to manage, I fear.”
Yet when Se-jun and I tasted it to confirm, we understood.
Why Song-ha had said it wasn’t spirit.
It truly wasn’t.
It was merely a liquid that made one drunk — nothing more, with aroma and flavor both far beneath expectation.
“How much better it would have been if Mok-tong had been here…….”
“Mok-tong?”
“Mm… you know the Aging Cellar where you store those vessels for the spirit, yes? Well, that’s what Mok-tong is. Ordinarily, one Dokkaebi dwells in each brewery, but many lived here.”
Song-ha continued, lost in memory.
It seemed the Aging Cellar of Songhadan had been transformed into a Dokkaebi — that Dokkaebi being Mok-tong.
“Why him in particular?”
“Because Mok-tong had an uncanny sense for the taste of spirit. He even brought out better flavor. Of course, the man was completely devoted to drink. I swear, he went through so much I thought the entire stock would vanish.”
“Ah, Angel’s Share…….”
“That’s what you call it. All of that was what that old fellow drank.”
When spirit aged in oak barrels or onggi vessels, the containers breathed, and the resulting evaporation was significant.
This decreasing volume was called the angel’s share — the angel’s portion.
‘Here, we ought to call it the Dokkaebi’s tax.’
The fact that he drank so much made sense.
Generally, the warmer and more humid the climate, the greater the evaporation; in Korea, with its wide swings in temperature and humidity, aging would be far faster than elsewhere — and evaporation would be beyond imagination.
And that had been true in my past life as well.
<>
“It’s all part of the process.”
As I was chatting quietly with Song-ha, Se-jun shuffled back over, having just finished verifying both the vehicle handover and delivery quantities.
The first thing out of his mouth was…….
“I’m dying.”
“You’ve earned your rest.”
If anyone had asked me who worked hardest at Songhadan, I’d have said Se-jun without hesitation.
He was involved in every facet of the operation, and it was he who scoured the market searching for materials we needed to make the liquor.
He’d also played a considerable role in the recent facility expansion.
And now, with the workload growing, he was helping screen new hires as well.
So there was every reason for him to say such things.
“Boss, you need to raise my salary.”
“I’d like to.”
“Ugh…….”
Each time Se-jun stretched, his joints cracked audibly throughout his body.
I’d already raised his pay commensurate with his efforts, but raising it further just wasn’t realistic.
Meari was selling well, true, but profits hadn’t been maximized yet.
The operating margins far exceeded anything from my past life, but all of it went straight back into reinvestment.
“By the way—are you seriously planning to farm your own rice eventually?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you curious what Meari made from Songhadan rice would taste like?”
“And you mentioned trying Oak Barrels after distillation?”
“I’m thinking about Japanese oak and sawtooth oak. If I can manage it, I want to experiment with every variety of Korean oak.”
“At this point, you’re genuinely deranged.”
Se-jun squinted at me as he said it.
Understandably so.
What I was proposing would be completely impossible given Songhadan’s current scale.
It was nothing but a dream.
But I had my defense.
“You’re the one who went even further yesterday. You were the one saying we should try charring and seasoning Oak Barrels too.”
“I’ll own it. I’m a liquor-obsessed degenerate. Ha ha!”
“Good grief.”
He laughed heartily, then mentioned checking over the new applicants’ forms before heading off into the distance.
<>
“But he’s a good friend.”
<>
“The merchant who loves his drink… ah, you mean President Yun Ju-ho?”
<>
I’d heard that Jujudaily had recently undergone a personnel restructuring.
Whether he’d understood my suggestion precisely or not, he’d apparently returned to the company and conducted an internal audit.
As a result, they’d been able to identify an employee who’d been leaking Jujudaily’s information and business plans to the outside.
Though they couldn’t trace the full extent of where the information had been flowing, at least Jujudaily could breathe easier for a while.
<>
“There’s still more to do. I need to keep pushing forward.”
<>
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
Song-ha adjusted his hat brim and flashed a knowing smile.
I asked for clarification, but he just muddied the waters with a vague reply.
<>
With that, Song-ha slipped away out of sight.
I was scratching my head over his cryptic words when Se-jun came running toward me from the distance.
What was he doing coming back this way, after he’d said he was going to check the applications?
“Yeon-u! Huff, puff!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“The Aging Cellar—something’s wrong with the Aging Cellar.”
At those words like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, my legs nearly buckled, and I had to strain to keep from falling.
Maturation was the process that maximized both the aroma and flavor of Nokpa-ju.
And the Aging Cellar was precisely what existed to accomplish that maturation.
If something had happened there, it meant not only the reserve Nokpa-ju we’d labored to make was ruined, but also all the experimental batches we’d stored for research—all of it compromised.
Just as my thoughts were swimming, Se-jun spoke again.
“It’s not like the cellar is collapsing or anything. It’s just… something’s off about it.”
Se-jun’s expression remained ambiguous as he said this.
As if nothing seriously wrong had occurred.
Only that something nagged at him, some detail he couldn’t quite settle.
“So what exactly is the problem?”
“Um… you’re not going to call me an idiot, right?”
“Why would I call you that?”
“I think there’s a ghost in the Aging Cellar.”
“What?”
Se-jun spoke with complete seriousness, yet his words came from nowhere.
A ghost?
All at once, ghosts.
His bewilderment must have shown on his face, because Se-jun clenched his fists and cried out.
“See! I knew it! I knew you’d react like this!”
“Ah. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking you’re an idiot—I was just… taken aback.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“I’m sorry. Anyway, would you mind explaining in a bit more detail?”
“Well… I mean…….”
Se-jun scratched his head and continued.
He admitted that he hadn’t believed there was a ghost in the Aging Cellar from the start.
At first, he’d only felt a chill whenever he stepped inside, enough to make his hair stand on end.
Something seemed to be moving around, so he’d even patrolled the area around the cellar for a while, thinking it was maybe a cat or something.
“Then why didn’t you say anything…….”
“I thought it was just my imagination.”
“But anyway… and then?”
“But… I… just now… I actually saw it… a real ghost.”
Before checking the application, he’d stopped by the Aging Cellar to verify the condition of its contents.
Then something flashed brightly behind his back.
Startled, he spun around, and there in the air hovered a bluish flame.
He was too shocked even to scream, and then the flame simply faded away, as if it had never been there.
“Is our brewery… haunted?”
“Ah…….”
“Really? I’m terrified of ghosts, you know! Should we hang talismans? Should we call a shaman? Call a shaman!”
“Calm down. I’ll go check it out myself.”
He tried his best to soothe the panicking Se-jun, who kept talking about needing an exorcism.
If his hunch was right, even if a shaman came and performed a ritual, it probably wouldn’t make much difference.
“Hmm… I’m worried.”
It had to be a Dokkaebi.
What Se-jun had seen was undoubtedly Dokkaebi Fire.
Wasn’t that exactly the description from the old stories?
He quickened his pace, and the Aging Cellar came into view.
The moment he reached out to open the door and step inside.
Creak-eeeeeek~
“Hm?”
The door swung open of its own accord the instant he approached it.
As if someone inside had opened it for him.
He steadied himself and began to step in calmly, but in that very moment.
<Clang! Tsk-tsk! You wretched things! Is this all you could manage while this old man was asleep!>
An irritable elderly voice carried from somewhere deeper inside.
His tension evaporated completely at this unexpected turn, and as he stopped in his tracks, the door slammed shut behind him with a bang.
He was alone now in the dim cellar.
All the while, the old man continued muttering about something.
<Eh? What is this now! Treating the alcohol like it’s cheap swill! Clang! I won’t live to see a ripe old age! Good heavens! This is insufferable! How can I abide having such things inside me! You rotten—!>
“I… I beg your pardon…….”
<Pardon? Freeze to death! You there, just you wait! I left for just a moment and look at this mess!>
The one examining the Onggi so carefully was an old man wearing a traditional hat and a white Korean robe.
His face was creased with wrinkles, and though his back was bent, he bellowed with fury as if he were steaming a massive iron cauldron, his voice enormous and unrelenting.
<What is all this! Has that Song-ha wretch been doing nothing but playing!>
“I… sir?”
<I told you to wait! Ahem! Now what is this!>
The old man, who looked as though he might curse all day long, shifted to the spot beside him.
Then, unlike before, he relaxed his expression and broke into a grin.
“Heh… that fellow. My, doesn’t it look delicious!”
“Um, sir…”
“Let me just have a taste…”
Without so much as acknowledging my protest, the old man plunged his hand straight into the Onggi that was still maturing the Meari.
When he withdrew his hand, his wrinkled palm, weathered with calluses, was cradling the liquor we’d made, sloshing gently.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he brought the handful of spirit to his lips and drained it, smacking his tongue in satisfaction.
“Kyahaha! Wonderful stuff! Sweet, but that’s something we can adjust. Let’s see here…”
“Sir!”
“Agh, my ears are betraying me! Didn’t I tell you to wait? I haven’t finished tasting yet! Come now, just one more sip…”
“Heh… I had a feeling he’d do something like this…”
Song-ha appeared without warning behind the old man, who was already plunging his hand back into the Onggi.
Hands thrust into his suit pockets, he exhaled a heavy sigh and gave the old man’s shoulder a light tap.
“Now then, old man.”
“What is it? I said to wait, and— Song-ha? Is that you, Song-ha? Heh. I’ve got quite a lot to discuss with you!”
“We can settle accounts later. For now, our drinking companion has arrived. Surely you don’t mean to ignore him?”
“Ahem… ahem, well…”
The old man kept clearing his throat at Song-ha’s pointed remark.
Yet even as he did, he refused to set down the liquor he’d cupped in his hand—to the point where one might suspect him of alcohol dependency.
True to form, he drained the spirit in one go, clapped his hands, and spoke.
“Right then! Now I introduce myself! My name, you see, is…?”
“You’re Mok-tong, aren’t you?”
“Eh? How do you know my name? Ah! Song-ha, you told him, didn’t you!”
“Have some shame, Mok-tong. I’m embarrassed just watching.”
Song-ha pulled his hat low to hide his face, while Mok-tong, now sprawled on the ground, began to cackle with laughter.
Where on earth had he been until now?
Song-ha had distinctly said the Dokkaebi were all sleeping deeply.
When I asked about it, Song-ha replied.
“You’ve brewed good liquor, haven’t you?”
“Good liquor?”
“Indeed! That fragrance of Meari—yes, that’s it. The scent was so pure it roused me. But as for the others here… well! Just one more taste…”
“Enough of that, you rascal. In any case, if you keep brewing fine spirits, more will awaken one by one—those whose tastes align with yours, at least. This timing works out well.”
Song-ha spoke, stopping Mok-tong just as he was reaching toward the Onggi for another handful.
Did that mean more Dokkaebi would continue to emerge like this?
And what did he mean by “the timing works out well”?
“The timing works out well?”
“Didn’t I mention it earlier? Mok-tong has a refined palate and a remarkable gift for improving spirits.”
“That’s me!”
Mok-tong slipped past Song-ha’s watchful gaze and filched another sip of the aging Meari.
If he kept drinking like that, there wouldn’t be anything left…
Regardless, Mok-tong pointed at the Onggi containers with his finger and spoke.
“These ones here are acceptable. Tsk, tsk. From here to here, the flavor’s solid. Since I’ve sampled them a few times, they’re only gotten better.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t follow…”
As I stood there bewildered, unable to keep pace with the conversation, Mok-tong turned to the containers on the opposite side, frowned, and spoke.
“And from here to here.”
As though he couldn’t bear even to look at them.
“All of it’s refuse. You’ll need to throw it all out.”

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