The Assistant
At first, it was just annoyance, but as time passed, I found myself wondering why he had suddenly shown up just to pick a fight. There was no one to ask, and it would have been strange to call Warren while he was supposed to be resting. As I pondered what to do, Chloe’s voice suddenly cut through my thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?”
Chloe stood there, clutching a thick textbook after finishing her class.
“Oh... it’s nothing. Someone came to see me earlier...”
Sensing that I didn’t want to talk about it, Chloe didn’t press for details. Instead, she nudged my shoulder with hers and said,
“Did you know everyone was talking about you today?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They’re all buzzing about how a legendary figure joined your winery. You’re going to be super famous now.”
“...If a winery becomes famous, there are pros and cons. The biggest pro would be that demand for our wine increases, driving up the price. A secondary benefit would be easier access to sub-wines for blending or grapes, and it certainly helps with distribution...”
“And the cons?”
“I suppose it’s that we have to meet people’s expectations for every single bottle we release.”
“That sounds like a lot of pressure, doesn’t it?”
I shrugged at her worried expression.
“Well? A professional is expected to be evaluated in every aspect. People in the arts, or chefs selling dishes at a restaurant—they can’t escape the judgment of their customers. Not to mention athletes.”
“Ah... right. We aren’t kids anymore.”
“Exactly. The moment you and I owned our own farms, we stopped being children and became farm owners. From that point on, we shouldn’t be acting spoiled or making excuses to our customers. We are always evaluated by the results we put out. To feel pressured just because expectations have risen? That’s not an option. If anything, we should enjoy it. I’m going to release my wine as an answer to the question, ‘How much better can it get?’ I’ll be saying, ‘How is it? Is it what you expected?’”
Chloe stared at me with wide eyes before letting out a soft gasp.
“Ah... I see. You really are different. Most people would have been worried about being overshadowed by someone else, or anxious about getting criticized if they fell a little short because of the hype...”
“I don’t think thinking that way is wrong. But it’s not the mindset of a professional. In that sense, the reason I welcomed Warren was because of his ability. An ability I don’t possess.”
“What is it?”
She asked, her large eyes sparkling.
“Hmm... intuition.”
“Intuition?”
“Yeah. When I approach wine, I always think based on data. But Warren is a natural-born genius. In the past, when there wasn’t systematic research like there is now, he had to rely entirely on intuition—and he reached the pinnacle of that.”
“So, you’re saying your data and Warren’s intuition will create great synergy?”
“Yes. That’s what I believe.”
“Wow, I never thought of it that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you’d talk about his influence, or things you wanted to learn from him... I’m a bit surprised you’re talking about how to effectively utilize him.”
“I can only say that because it’s you. I couldn’t say that in front of others. It would sound arrogant.”
I meant it in the sense that we were close and business partners, but Chloe’s face suddenly flushed red, and she hugged her textbook, squirming bashfully.
“Really? Well, I’m always here to listen...”
Only then did I realize she was thinking something entirely different, but I hurried my pace, fearing that correcting her would make the atmosphere even more awkward. Chloe followed behind me with quick, short steps.
Time flew by, and on the day Warren officially started, I took him around our vineyard.
“So, I’ll finally be learning the wine philosophy and details of your... no, my boss. I have very high expectations.”
He used the word ‘boss’ without hesitation. I found it awkward, but I was also surprised by the complete lack of pretense in his tone and expression.
“Weren’t people surprised that you’d be commuting to our winery?”
Warren waved his hand dismissively.
“Don’t even get me started, it was absolute chaos. People kept asking if they could get my wine at Redwood now, so I told them that under my contract, that’s absolutely impossible. I’ve already done interviews with wine magazines, so it should settle down soon.”
Since he had even gone through the trouble of giving official interviews to clarify, he had done all he could.
“...Actually, someone from Michel Wine came to see me.”
He flinched, his brow furrowing.
“What? Did they say it was Brad Cooper?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Hmph! The devious bastard. What did he say? I’m sure he gave you some half-baked warning, fearing I might make wine, right?”
“You knew?”
“It’s obvious. I’ve seen how he tries to poach my own sons; I know exactly what kind of person he is. Michel, having secured a high market share and distribution network, wants to produce quality wine now, so they’re bound to be anxious since I’ve joined another winery.”
“I understand the anxiety, but the way he spoke...”
“That’s their style. They deliberately provoke the other party’s emotions to induce mistakes or make them fearful. If they pressure you by inflating their power as much as possible, most people fold.”
“You know them well.”
He chuckled.
“Do you think it was easy when I first founded my winery? When I acquired the plum orchard at Stag’s Leap and turned it into a vineyard, many people laughed at me. The disregard from French wineries was especially intense. Everything changed with the Judgment of Paris, but there were significant hardships before that.”
“Ah...”
“Are you regretting bringing me on?”
“No, not at all... This kind of thing isn’t even a hardship compared to what I’ve faced in business. Besides, I have no interest in your blending secrets, so there won’t be any trouble with the wines we release later.”
He stopped suddenly, touched the ground, and scooped up a handful of soil.
“I felt it before, but this is definitely strange. Unlike other places, the soil here... I don’t know how to describe it, but it has moisture and the air pockets are well-formed between the particles.”
The soil created with biochar doesn’t have the hard, dense feel of a typical vineyard; it has a crumbly, porous structure. That’s why the soil itself is differentiated from other AVAs, and that was exactly why I had prevented that stranger from taking soil samples earlier.
“Um... I’ll say it again, you know this is confidential, right?”
“I know. That’s why I signed a non-disclosure agreement, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t just an employment contract; he had signed an NDA promising never to leak anything he learned at the company. It was standard practice for major wineries to have employees sign NDAs to protect their secrets, so Warren hadn’t shown any resistance to it.
“Good. This is what we call biochar—it’s made by burning wood scraps and compost into charcoal.”
“Charcoal?”
“Yes. When you pyrolyze wood while blocking oxygen, only the carbon skeleton remains—that’s charcoal. This structure has a very high porosity. When mixed with soil, it decreases the bulk density and allows for stable air circulation in the root zone. Simply put, it’s a structure that increases the efficiency of root respiration.”
One might wonder what that means upon hearing it for the first time, but as someone who was already at the level of a viticulture professor, he understood immediately. He touched the soil, looking deeply impressed.
“I see... mixing charcoal and soil... amazing. Charcoal is a microstructure full of holes like a sponge, so it will hold moisture for a long time, and with such high porosity, drainage will be much better.”
In truth, biochar also increases CEC (Cation Exchange Capacity), stabilizes pH, promotes mycorrhizal and microbial growth, and maintains organic carbon (TOC) for a long time, but I didn’t mention those details.
If I explained that much, he would ask for the evidence or research results behind those claims.
“My god...”
He was already impressed by just these effects, but then...
“Right! Since you used charcoal, the mycorrhizae (symbiotic organisms of plant roots and fungi) must be activated!”
As expected, he was the type to predict things on his own without being told.
“Perhaps?”
“So that’s why you wouldn’t let me take the soil. Did you happen to inoculate it with specific microbes as well?”
“Yes...”
“...I’m curious, but let’s stop here for today. If I learn too much on the first day, it’ll take too long to digest. I’ll have to open my chemistry books again after a long time.”
Looking at his excited expression, it felt like even though he looked like an old man on the outside, there was a child or a young man living inside him.
“That’s right. Since there’s still so much to learn, let’s leave the soil for now and head to the aging room.”
“I heard that you’re the only one allowed in the aging room? Is there some great secret in there?”
“You’ll see when you go in.”
At my words, he clenched his fists and quickened his pace. He looked just like a child running toward news of a new toy.
As we opened the door to the aging room, the scent of metal and wine hit our noses. As soon as Warren stepped inside, he stopped, having spotted something.
“What is that?”
His gaze was fixed on a stainless steel tank. Small modules were attached to the surface of the tank, and thin cables were intricately connected. The temperature, dissolved oxygen (DO), pH, and conductivity (EC) sensors I had installed were blinking in real-time.
“This is... are these all real-time measuring devices?”
I nodded and approached the tank.
“That’s right. We are quantifying every variable that occurs during fermentation.”
Warren frowned.
“Why on earth are you monitoring all of this? You can read the reaction of wine well enough with intuition.”
I pointed to the monitoring display on the tank.
“That’s not wrong. But the people who can do that are only a few geniuses and those close to them. If clear data close to the ‘correct answer’ exists, we can use that data to create near-perfect wine in the future.”
“Haha...”
“The yeast in the grape juice changes its metabolic rate depending on temperature, oxygen, and sugar concentration. As you know, of course. This is a system that helps us control that quantitatively to produce wine of uniform quality.”
Warren, who had been looking on with admiration, suddenly felt something and whipped his head toward me.
“Clear data close to the correct answer? That shouldn’t exist yet, should it?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t exist yet.”
“Then this is a process of finding that clear data close to the correct answer?”
“That’s also correct. Not just the aging system, but the artificially created soil is like applying the naturally formed To-Kalon. Depending on what kind of grapes come out of there, we can secure clear data and create grapes that are close to the finished form.”
“My goodness...”
A shocked Warren touched the stainless steel tank with trembling hands before turning back to me.
“I see why you brought me on. You needed my intuition in the process of finding the wine that is closest to the correct answer.”
“...That’s right.”
Suddenly, he burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha! This is truly incredible! Those Michel bastards don’t know anything and are just worried that I might use my techniques here. Hahaha!”
After laughing heartily for a long time, he stopped abruptly and looked me straight in the eye.
“Thank you for giving me something to do before I die. I don’t know how many wines I’ll make before I close my eyes, but I’ll do my best.”
“Let’s do this right.”
“Just trust me, Master.”