Chapter 18
Chapter 18
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Price of Underestimating Makgeolli
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Drink! Drink! Eat and die! Uhahahaha!"
I was in a great mood.
Thanks to the drizzling rain, there were hardly any evening customers.
I boldly hung up the 'Early Closing' sign.
And inside the shop, a feast of crispy seafood green onion pancakes and freshly made makgeolli was underway.
This morning, the makgeolli I'd brewed was finally complete.
It yielded over thirty 1-liter plastic containers.
Fermented in a massive 40-liter earthenware pot, even after filtering out the lees, more than 30 liters remained.
I'd carefully brewed it from the morning and kept it chilled in the fridge.
There was way more than expected, so I'd given a complimentary glass to today's regular customers.
"Wow, rice wine?"
Bitter yet sweet, with a fizzy carbonation kick.
The taste of my makgeolli was out of this world.
Customers raved that it tasted like milk or yogurt.
Some wanted seconds, but when I politely declined, saying others needed to try it too, they looked disappointed.
"Hoon, no plans to sell this separately? It pairs so well with the food."
It was Karl, the butcher shop owner I did business with.
I shook my head.
"To brew and sell alcohol in the US, there's liquor tax—it'd cost more than it's worth."
Not selling it for money meant complimentary glasses were no issue.
I decided to stick to the hobby and enjoy the customers' happy faces.
"Instead, drop by occasionally, and I'll hook you up with some as service."
"Oh, really? Promise, Hoon!"
Seeing Karl from the butcher shop light up like a kid, I thought next time I'd brew extra generously and gift him a full jar.
While closing up like that—
Ding-a-lang—
The shop door opened, and Lucas entered, a bit damp from the rain.
Trailing him were the two gang members who always stuck by his side.
"Hey, Hoon! I've been counting down the days for this rain."
I greeted them with a smile.
"Perfect timing, Lucas. You came ready to crawl out on all fours today, right?"
Lucas burst into cheerful laughter at my words.
"What? Uhahaha! You weren't kidding?"
"Look, Hoon. I drink vodka like water. Think that's possible?"
Instead of replying, I smiled and led them to their seats.
Tonight, I planned to show them exactly what real Korean liquor tasted like.
"Here comes the main dish!"
With my announcement, Amy emerged from the kitchen carrying a huge plate.
Atop it sat a golden, mouthwatering seafood green onion pancake, fresh off the sizzling hot plate.
Stuffed generously with seafood and finely chopped green onions, its crispy edges alone made mouths water.
The massive pancake, grilled big on the large plate, was shuttled to the table.
Hot steam billowed, carrying the savory aroma of oil that tickled the nose.
Lucas and his crew gulped, mesmerized by the overwhelming visuals and fragrance.
"Whoa! Hoon! What's this? Smells amazing!"
"Wh-what's that green stuff? Pizza?"
I explained with a laugh at their curious stares.
"This is haemul pajeon, Korean-style savory pancakes. As you can see, packed with squid, shrimp, seafood, and green onions. On rainy days, paired with makgeolli, it's unbeatable."
I ladled soy sauce dipping mix into their small plates.
"Dip in this sauce. Careful, it's hot."
Lucas and his men snatched up chopsticks like they'd been waiting.
Their eyes were locked on a single piece of pancake.
Of course, the staff couldn't miss out on the fun.
Once everyone gathered around the table, I kicked off the rowdy feast.
"Attention!"
I hoisted a makgeolli bottle high.
"In Korea, rainy days mean pajeon and makgeolli. This pairs perfectly with the seafood pancake—traditional Korean brew, so drink up! I made it myself; it's delicious."
I fetched ten bottles from the fridge and passed out rice bowls from the cabinet.
"Makgeolli tradition is wide bowls brimming full—no weird looks. Here, let me pour."
I circled, filling bowls with cool, milky makgeolli.
Fridge-chilled perfection.
"Our staff busted ass today! And Lucas here drives our sales, so let's feast! Glasses out!"
Glasses filled.
"Receive drink! Raise high, shout 'Cheers!' and down it."
I led, glass aloft.
"Alright~! Cheers~!"
Their clumsy "Cheers!" in broken Korean was adorable.
Kkuu~ A refreshing full bowl down, echoes everywhere.
I sat at Lucas's table, watching fondly.
Bite oily pancake mouthful, rinse grease with cool makgeolli bowl—repeat.
Lucas exclaimed nonstop.
"Oh my god, this insane pancake!"
I chuckled at his smooth makgeolli amazement.
"Good, Lucas?"
He thumbs-upped fiercely, like I'd snatch the pancake.
Laughter escaped me.
"Hahaha! Slow down. More pancakes anytime."
"Really? More?"
Calmer now, oil gleaming on lips, he asked.
"Yep. Pace yourself. Indigestion."
"Haha, got it. Thought one round max."
"Makgeolli taste?"
"Unique, delish. Insanely good with pancake."
"Right? But moderate, or drunk. No next-day hell."
Lucas and crew roared at my warning.
"What? Hahaha! Beverage-level? Worry not, Hoon. Boss tougher."
"Lucas, Korean saying."
"What?"
"Makgeolli drunk, won't know mom or dad."
"What? Uhaha. Exciting? But no parents to know?"
Ah... self-roast fresh?
His American humor turned family woes light; unfathomable.
I smirked inwardly at their cockiness.
'Guys... makgeolli hits not drinking, but standing.'
Natural ferment: live yeast, acids boost stomach alcohol uptake.
Rice-based: sugars, carbs accelerate body-wide spread.
Result: lots means next-day hell.
They chugged like juice; inwardly prayed for them.
"Uweeeek!"
As expected, my feared disaster struck.
With three bottles left of many, I moved to wrap up.
I'd shared deep talk with Lucas.
"Why gangs, Lucas? Good jobs out there."
Casual toss; he bitter-smiled.
"No schooling young. Dad addict, mom man parade—I bolted early... Black kid, no skills that hood, gotta eat. Somehow, gang boss now."
I listened to his wry words quietly.
"Know we're scum. Reasons whatever, hell-bound. No lame excuses for evil. But... Hoon, first fearless friendly like you. Uhahaha!"
His laugh mixed joy, loneliness.
Other regulars probe: why risk with them?
I retort: "They wrong me how?"
Prejudice-free me.
No tinted views unless wronged.
"Lately, Hoon, your spot key routine. Stares lifelong, know the looks. You? Just human gaze. Can't stay away."
Sad tale.
Path's stigma inevitable.
I comfy sans bias, seemed.
"Yeah? Frequent then. Staff pay spine-snapping; help sales, Lucas."
"What? Uhahaha! Yup! Pushing to pals."
"Know. Your intros many customers. Grateful."
"Uhahaha! Duh. You special eats booze; I owe more."
Truly blissful him.
Party end.
Lucas rising—
"Uh... uhh...?"
Stagger, butt-plant.
'Ah... toasted.'
"Uh...? What...? Ugh... urk...!"
Chair-grab stand, face ashen, bolted out.
Hey! Wrong door!
I dashed after.
Lucas alley-side, purged all eaten.
Concerned men followed, saw, puked too.
Damn.
That night, Berkeley alley wailed three men's pitiful groans.
"Uweeeek!"
Thoroughly emptied, Lucas staggered but feigned cool to Ji-hoon.
"Haha... Hoon. No worry, head in."
Ji-hoon dumbfounded.
'Dude, mega-puke shop-side, what talk!'
Throat words swallowed.
Predicted mess anyway.
Just alley over bathroom gripe.
Cleanup headache loomed.
"Sigh. Lucas, said moderate. Inside rest. I clean."
"Ah... sorry, Hoon."
Sobering grab, clutched wobbly men's shoulders.
"Cover, bros. Next big spend."
"Sigh, home now. Shoo!"
Ji-hoon annoyed shoo; Lucas mid-laugh into dark.
Ji-hoon head-shake.
"Sigh, hopeless really."
Bucket water fetched, alley vomit scrub began.
His cleaning midst—
Lucas crew desperate warred.
Three-four steps, "Uweeeek!" three-four, "Urk...!"
Three steps one bow? Nah, one puke.
Makgeolli backlash full fury.
No idle 'makgeolli puke, no fix' adage.
Days water-only hurl maybe.
That night, downtown Berkeley echoed sole three men's mournful three-steps-one-puke cries.