A Strange Encounter

My grandfather ran a traditional brewery nestled in Yeongwol, Gangwon Province.

I loved him dearly. Even as a small boy, I was captivated by the subtle, comforting aroma that always drifted from his clothes whenever he gathered me into his embrace. It was only natural, then, that I came to adore the man named Song Taeho, and eventually grew fascinated by the one thing he cherished most in this world: liquor.

"Though my father hated it."

Ironically, Father couldn't stand even the barest mention of Grandfather's trade. He loathed being labeled "the brewer's son" so fiercely that he had studied like a demon to become a doctor. That alone said everything.

"So when his own son skipped a generation to announce he'd take over the family business... well, I would've been furious too."

My genuine passion for brewing took root the moment I entered college at twenty. Grandfather's unyielding pride in his lifelong craft had always seemed so magnificent in my eyes. More than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, the flavor and bouquet of the spirits he brewed with his own hands had completely captured my soul.

Back then, Grandfather had looked at me with a soft smile and asked:

"Do you truly love liquor that much?"

What had I answered? I vaguely recalled nodding without a second thought, casually saying that I did.

When he passed away, he bequeathed the entire brewery to me. He had remembered his grandson's offhand remark so tenderly that he had even overhauled the facilities with state-of-the-art equipment before departing this world. In the end, I quietly took a leave of absence from the university and threw myself headlong into running the inherited brewery.

"I never should have done it..."

At first, things went well enough. Riding the global crest of interest in Korean culture, we even managed to export our bottles abroad. But that was our peak.

"Ha... Life really is cruel."

Business never unfolds as smoothly as one hopes. Just as we were scraping through persistent financial strain and beginning to turn a modest profit, major conglomerates stepped in to box us out. Self-proclaimed connoisseurs were all too eager to tear our craft down out of petty snobbery. Even so, I held out to the bitter end. I endured because there were still loyal patrons cheering us on.

Yet even that resilience couldn't last.

"Sigh... Seriously..."

Then came the accident. A freight truck blew through a red light and slammed directly into us. The collision left my left hand severely maimed, and the brilliant partner who had managed the brewery alongside me was killed on impact. From that day onward, the brewery went into an irreversible downward spiral.

And then struck the final, fatal blow.

"Heh... A damn factory, of all things..."

Water was the lifeblood of brewing. But an industrial plant planted itself brazenly upstream, contaminating our pristine mountain stream. I filed petitions and filed lawsuits, but it was entirely futile. From that point on, our water source was ruined, and the exquisite flavor of our liquor died with it.

"Once a brewery can no longer brew good liquor, it's finished."

The cheap commercial soju bought with the meager pocket change left to my name tasted wretchedly bitter. In the end, yes, I was ruined. The legacy Grandfather had poured his life into cultivating, entrusted solely to me, had all crumbled to ash in my hands.

"Haah..."

Staggering forward in a drunken daze, I found myself standing once again before my old brewery. The nameplate bearing the name Grandfather had chosen—Songhadang—hung bleakly above the main gate. Yet within these walls, not a single drop of liquor remained.

Pushing open the heavy door to the now derelict, abandoned distillery, a mournful creak echoed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through the dead of night.

"Hah. What a pathetic mess..."

Collapsing heavily amidst the cold, silent machinery and overturned earthenware onggi jars, I tipped the green bottle back and drank straight from the neck. Pitying myself wouldn't change a thing. Song Yeonwoo, the young man once brimming with lofty dreams, was now a hollow wreck in his mid-thirties, possessing nothing to his name except a broken body drowned in debt.

"Damn it all..."

Just as I tilted my head back to swallow another burning mouthful of bitter soju, a voice rang out.

"You seem to carry a heavy burden of sorrow upon your shoulders."

"Huh?"

The voice resonated from directly in front of me—a deep, dignified baritone. Yet this dilapidated building was virtually abandoned, private property under my name. Who could possibly be here at this ungodly hour?

"Did I drink too much...?"

"You have indeed imbibed excessively. The stench reeks all the way over here. Tsk, tsk."

There it was again. This was no auditory hallucination. A jolt of sobriety surged through me, raising goosebumps along my arms. Had a trespasser broken in? But why on earth would anyone sneak into a ruined distillery?

My mind racing with frantic thoughts, I peered into the murky darkness where the voice had originated. All I could discern was the derelict interior fallen into disrepair. No, wait—something was there. A silhouette was wavering amidst the gloom.

"Wh-who's there?!"

"Would you even know if I told you? Hmm... let us simply say I am an old drinking companion. Hup."

Stepping forward from the shadows was a man dressed in the most peculiar attire. Draped in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flowing black Joseon-era hanbok, he looked as though he had stepped right out of a historical chronicle. Though his garment belonged to an era long past, his aura was so overwhelmingly regal and dignified that it felt strangely natural. Unbothered by my bewilderment, he strode toward me with poised, unhesitating steps.

"I have watched over you for a long time, so may I not call myself your drinking companion?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Tsk, how cold. Why should a fine brewer drink such swill? Here, I have brought an exquisite spirit worthy of my companion."

Settling comfortably onto the floor across from me, he produced a bottle. Even in my drunken haze, one look was enough to tell me that his claim of an 'exquisite spirit' was no boast. Swirling within the glass was a liquid that appeared to have molten gold dissolved within it—deep and rich, yet extraordinarily luminous. The slow, clinging legs that trailed down the inside of the bottle were nothing short of mesmerizing.

"Well, my good fellow. Do you intend to merely stare at it?"

"Pardon?"

"I brought glassware along, so moisten your throat. Liquor is only liquor once it is drunk."

Reaching into his inner sleeve, he withdrew a tulip-shaped tasting glass. It was an object that had no business emerging from traditional robes, yet I couldn't bring myself to question it. No, truth be told, I didn't care to. All my senses were already captive to the nameless liquor before my eyes.

The moment his graceful hand uncorked the bottle, an intoxicating aroma billowed forth.

"What... what is this...?"

A luscious sweetness enveloped the air. Rich toasted nuts, decadent golden honey, and dense dried fruit mingled harmoniously. Yet woven beneath was an ethereal freshness reminiscent of standing deep within a pristine mountain forest, laced with rich blooming wildflowers. Was it whiskey? Or was it distilled soju? No, it was neither. Never in my life had I encountered a spirit like this.

Having poured the amber-gold nectar into the glass, the man offered it to me with an easy grin.

"Drink up."

"Ah... thank you..."

I took the glass in a daze. Up close, the fragrance was almost dizzying in its brilliance. It felt completely surreal, like a dream. Yes, this must be a dream. I must have passed out dead drunk and started hallucinating.

Once that thought crossed my mind, all hesitation vanished. Bringing the rim to my lips, I tipped a single sip onto my tongue.

And then—

"Mmh!"

A sweetness akin to caramelized sugar kissed by Madagascar vanilla exploded across my palate. Woven through it was the sophisticated bitterness of dark chocolate, followed by the lush chew of sun-ripened melons and mangoes. Just as the carnival of citrus and tropical fruit faded, the clean, crystalline purity of virgin river water washed over my tongue. And just when the startling, punchy warmth on the finish took me by surprise, a gentle, nutty richness wrapped around my throat in a lingering caress.

It was a masterpiece that tasted as though an artist had painted perfection into liquid form.

"Gwahaha! Well, how is it?"

"What... what on earth is this...?"

"Hmm? My good friend, after tasting such a divine elixir, do you expect the secrets for free?"

"If you tell me... I will do anything, whatever you want..."

Desperation had loosened my tongue before reason caught up, abruptly choking off my words. To ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say I would do anything was an empty lie; I had nothing left to my name. By contrast, despite his archaic robes, this mysterious man radiated overwhelming nobility and effortless grace. Anyone could see there was nothing a bankrupt failure like me could offer him.

Yet as if dismissing my self-deprecation, the corners of his lips curved into an amused smirk.

"Did you not just promise you would do anything?"

"Uh... what?"

"Then shall we make a wager?"

"A wager?"

"Nothing too grand, mind you."

With that, he rose to his feet and brushed off his trousers.

"Should I lose the wager, I will grant you the name of this divine liquor. Nay, not merely that—I shall give you the brewer's true name and the very distillery where it was born."

"And... if I lose...?"

"You need only grant a small wish of mine: lend us your aid."

"Excuse me?"

The words themselves weren't difficult to grasp. He was asking me to help him and his people. But how could I possibly achieve that when I didn't even know who stood before me? While I gaped blankly, the enigmatic man continued.

"It is simple. Brew good liquor. To that end, I shall assist you in every way possible."

"Ha..."

What was a wager, truly? A contest where the loser paid a steep penalty. Yet this strange man was offering terms that completely defied logic—a wager where I came out ahead no matter the outcome. Brewing extraordinary spirits had been my lifelong dream, and he was offering to help me achieve it? Yes, perhaps this was born of my own desperate delusions. After all, wasn't this entire encounter just a drunken dream?

Reaching that conclusion brought a sudden, peaceful clarity.

"Fine. Let's do it. Your wager."

"Haha! I like your bold spirit! Very well, let us test your mettle. Tell me, do you know how to wrestle ssireum?"

"What? Why ssireum all of a sudden?"

To propose traditional Korean wrestling in the middle of drinking inside a pitch-black ruin was absurd. I stared at him dumbfounded, but he was entirely in earnest; setting down the bottle, he held out his hands toward me.

"Show me your sincerity. For I, too, shall put forth my utmost will for the sake of our clan and people."

Bewitched by the strange gravity of the atmosphere, I sank into an awkward, clumsy stance and took hold of his sash, despite having never wrestled a day in my life. But what chance did an inexperienced novice completely soaked in alcohol have?

"Oho, my friend. It seems your frame does not quite match your bravado, does it?"

"Kh... Again!"

"Hahaha! Your fiery spirit is commendable!"

I threw everything I had into it. I tried hooking his legs with trips, strained every muscle in my arms, and shoved with all my weight. Yet the man stood rooted like an ancient, immovable boulder. He merely chuckled heartily, absorbing my desperate flailing with effortless grace while dropping words between chuckles.

"A wonderful fragrance lingers here. A place where an artisan brews true spirits always carries such a scent."

"Ho-ho, what a pity it was. To find land as blessed as this is no easy feat."

"The water is pristine and the mountains rise high, gathering sacred energy; how could legendary spirits fail to be born here?"

"It was merely because wicked influences intruded. You are not at fault. If you are guilty of anything, it is only that you were an artisan of unblemished purity. Fear not. When you awaken, all shall be set right."

Truthfully, his words barely registered. Some instinctual stubbornness had taken hold, driving me solely to topple this unyielding giant.

It was right then.

"Therefore, when you return, do not forget our wager."

"Pant... pant... Return?"

"Indeed. I have also assigned trustworthy fellows to your side, so put them to good use. Consider it a parting gift to an entertaining companion—do not dwell on it. Haha! Now then..."

"Whoa!"

The man, who had stood unyielding as a great tree, suddenly shifted his posture. An instant later, the floor trembled violently as if struck by an earthquake. As I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance, dazzling lights burst forth from all directions.

"Wh-what is happening?!"

"Look closely. Your life has not been lived in vain."

Within the darkened brewery, countless figures were now perched atop the scattered onggi jars. Some wore garments resembling the nobleman before me, while others donned traditional hanbok paired with wide-brimmed horsehair gat hats. Though differing in age and gender, every single one of them was smiling with blissful delight, savoring ladles of liquor scooped directly from the earthenware pots.

"Wherever exquisite spirits flow, Dokkaebi naturally gather."

"Dokkaebi...?"

"I have not lived an eternity, but even across all eight provinces, I doubt you would find a single brewery where so many Dokkaebi choose to dwell."

At that exact moment, a thunderous roar erupted as the long-dormant machines began whirring into gear. The malt crushers and rice washers rattled rhythmically. Pure water cascaded into the filtration units, and the fermentation tanks hummed with vibrant life.

And then—

"So hold your head high with pride."

The majestic copper pot still, brought in during our modernization, sprang to life with a resonant rumble.

"You are an exceptional artisan. Even when you return, you will accomplish great things."

The brewing apparatus operated as though breathing with sentient life. While I stood utterly spellbound in their midst, the crimson dawn slowly broke beyond the walls. Golden-red morning sunlight seeped through the dust-streaked windows.

"It appears the time has come."

"Wait, what?"

"Never forget. Brew spirits. Save our clan."

In the next breath, the man flipped me over his shoulder as effortlessly as snapping a towel. As I crashed to the floor, a cry tore from my throat at the sudden shock—

Chirp, chirp.

The cheerful chirping of wild birds reached my ears—a sweet song that had vanished ever since the industrial plant was erected upstream.

"What on earth...?"

Blinking my eyes open and scanning the room, I found myself enveloped in the crisp, bright morning air. Everything around me was immaculately organized and spotlessly maintained. That should have been impossible; our brewery had gone bankrupt and shut down. Then what was this scene before my very eyes?

Scrambling to my feet in a panic, I patted down my pockets. My fingers gripped a cell phone. But unlike the modern smartphone I had carried, it was a clunky, outdated model I hadn't used in ten years.

And glowing on the screen was the date.

"This is impossible..."

The cold, unfeeling digital display showed a date from exactly ten years ago.