Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Holy Blood (4)
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Luxury goods, or simply luxury.
These are high-end products that have earned social recognition for their commercial value and brand prestige over long periods of time.
With sky-high prices, they're strongly seen as the exclusive playthings of the ultra-elite.
Yet the true consumer base for luxury items was mostly the middle class—those with enough financial stability—rather than the super-rich.
This made sense: there simply weren't enough people who could buy luxury goods without batting an eye. Even if individuals were big spenders, the market couldn't be sustained by the top tier alone; there were limits to its size.
So luxury brands targeted those who aspired to the upper class's lifestyle, selling them the image and the dreams it evoked. That's how they maintained steady popularity.
And in this era, the consumption of "real wine"—now elevated to luxury status—followed a similar trend. It wasn't just the penthouse elites at the top of skyscrapers; middle-class citizens who yearned for that life and opened their wallets with resolve formed a key pillar of the market.
"Mmm... this elegant depth. As expected, the real thing is different."
"The aftertaste lingering in my mouth is pure bliss."
Still, real wine remained prohibitively expensive for the average person.
It was produced solely for extravagance, after all.
With production tightly controlled to match its luxury nameplate, even the cheapest bottle started at tens of thousands of credit dollars. Buying one just for personal enjoyment was outrageously pricey.
This sparked a unique trend among middle-class wine enthusiasts.
Blind tasting.
"This glass number three has to be the real one, right? The aroma is so refined."
"Nonsense! You're still green. Glass one has far more depth and complexity. That's the genuine article."
People pooled their money to buy a single bottle of real wine, mixing it in among various synthetic grape wines. Then they'd all taste and guess which was the authentic one. This pastime started popping up at middle-class social gatherings and dinner parties.
It shared the burden of the hefty price while keeping the sophistication intact.
This appealed to the desire to mimic high society's rituals, and blind tasting's reputation as a time-honored tradition gave it a perfect excuse.
Thanks to that, it became a popular diversion at any formal gathering.
Today's party was no different.
As the mood hit its peak, the host-like figure raised his glass to draw everyone's attention.
"Before we dive into the main event, allow me to introduce today's special guest, who will elevate our club's prestige: the Wine Association-certified master sommelier, Mr. Alberto."
At those words, a white-haired elder in a crisp suit stood, offering a warm, kindly smile and a polite bow.
"Delighted to meet you all. Thank you for having me at this esteemed gathering."
Thunderous applause followed, and the regular members welcomed him sincerely.
Such invited experts were renowned figures the hosts had painstakingly secured to boost the party's class.
Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies approached the elder one by one to greet him.
The group included a mid-sized firm executive, a famous magazine editor-in-chief, a young lawyer who'd just opened his practice, and even an influencer with a sizable following—diverse backgrounds all around.
After the brief introductions, everyone settled back in, and the main event kicked off.
Servers glided in quietly, placing a neat wine glass before each guest.
"......."
As the clear magenta liquid filled the glasses one by one starting with the first, the elder's soft smile sharpened into something keen.
He pulled a pair of silver-rimmed glasses from his pocket, held a glass up to the ceiling lights to inspect the color meticulously.
Then he brought it to his nose, inhaled deeply, swirled it gently to savor the aroma again, and finally took a small sip.
Low murmurs of admiration rose from the onlookers at his practiced expertise.
"Wow..."
The elder ignored them, focused solely on his assessment.
He didn't swallow the wine in his mouth but quietly spat it into the nearby spittoon prepared for tastings.
With a thoughtful expression, he jotted quick notes in a small notepad.
This continued through several wines.
Suddenly, facing one particular glass, the elder's expression shifted subtly.
He lifted it, inhaled deeply once more, and let out a louder, satisfied hum.
"Mmm...!"
Now with far greater seriousness, he scribbled extensively in his notepad.
A few attendees glanced sideways at his reaction, hurriedly filling out their own score sheets belatedly.
This was tacitly allowed—an intentional bit of "cheating."
Not everyone there was a wine expert. Better to reference the pro's opinion than risk embarrassment with a wrong guess; it was seen as etiquette to match the vibe.
Inviting the elder served exactly that purpose.
Once the real wine was identified, the mood relaxed, and people freely savored the remaining glasses.
Modern synthetic wines, born from advanced food tech, weren't half bad taste-wise.
They just lacked the rarity and true value of the "real" thing.
The party's atmosphere grew even more jovial.
But in the very next round, an unexpected twist unfolded.
"......!"
It started with the next wine served.
After one sip, the elder abruptly removed his glasses.
He set the glass down silently in his hand...
And began to weep without a word.
The sudden sight stunned everyone into whispers of confusion.
Finally, someone ventured cautiously,
"Sir, why... what's wrong all of a sudden?"
As all eyes turned to him,
The elder murmured dreamily in a trembling voice,
"Terroir......."
"Pardon? What was that?"
"How... how can there be such a perfect terroir..."
Terroir.
The French term for land and soil.
In the wine world, it described the unique character imparted to the wine by the specific natural environment where the vines grew. Grapes took on wildly varied flavors and aromas based on the minerals and nutrients in their rooted soil.
But in this era, with climate change turning most farmlands into deserts or wastelands, grapes were nearly all produced in high-tech hydroponic facilities.
Tech advancements yielded nutritious, quality grapes aplenty—but nothing could fully replicate the subtle flavors and complexity long-aged natural soils provided.
So the terroir the elder remembered was now just a faint childhood memory.
Perhaps it evoked humanity's lost homeland scents, a primal nostalgia for nature itself.
'But... this wine...'
With trembling hands, he lifted the glass again, sipping slowly once more.
'Who recreated this perfect taste and aroma, and how? Where?'
It blended the Old World's finesse with the New World's richness—a flavor so exquisite it inspired awe.
The only soil that could grow such grapes...
Yes... Eden.
The paradise soil humanity lost to its fall.
"This is... wine from the fallen paradise itself...!"
The elder's rapturous mutter widened every eye in the room.
For a famed expert to react like this? Curiosity exploded into murmurs.
"That good?"
"What kind of wine could move him so?"
Unable to hold back, one person peeled off the blind tasting wrapper, revealing the bottle.
"Th-this is..."
Even Alberto the master sommelier had never seen the label before.
"Sanctus Sanguis... Holy Blood?"
The arrogant-sounding name gave no one pause against the expert's verdict.
And the elder himself had no desire to argue.
Recalling the profound emotion he'd felt, the name fit perfectly.
How had they recaptured a taste humanity had lost forever? Where and how?
He wanted to track down the maker right then and demand answers.
Urgently, he asked the host,
"Where did this wine come from?"
But the host just shook his head in bewilderment. He summoned the staff instead.
"Who brought this wine?"
Now that he thought about it, things didn't add up. Exactly twelve bottles had been prepared for the tasting.
Yet here was a thirteenth.
Grilling the staffer who'd set it up yielded only frantic head-shaking.
He swore someone had handed him the bottle to include, but strangely, he couldn't recall who—not the name, face, age, or even gender. It was all foggy, like mist.
"....."
In the end, the tasting wrapped up amid an enigmatic afterglow and some disarray.
But its ripple effects were immediate.
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"What? That price per bottle?!"
Hearing Chen Bangju's answer, my mind went blank for a moment.
I'd figured we'd make a decent profit, but the number he'd quoted blew past my wildest imagination.
Watching the auction price climb even now, a thought crossed my mind.
Maybe, among all the miracles granted to me, the most useful power wasn't my healing ability at all...
But this money-duplicating magic.