Two New Encounters (3)
“How is it?”
I asked the question, but my words merely drifted through the open air without an answer. All that echoed through the heavy silence was the sound of someone’s throat bobbing with a deep swallow, followed by a breathy, shuddering gasp and a low groan of utter marvel.
“What in the world… is this…?”
“Seems that tippler has lost his senses entirely, my friend,” Songha chuckled softly.
“Think anyone could keep their wits against that? Gwah-hah-hah!” Moktong cackled in reply.
Beside me, Songha and Moktong were bantering back and forth as if watching a comedy routine. And honestly, who could blame them?
The moment CEO Yoon Juho received Sejun’s message saying another version of Meari had been brewed, he had dropped everything and raced straight down to Yeongwol. He must have pushed the pedal through the floorboard; he arrived in under an hour and a half. After executing a reckless, racing-style drift into the gravel lot, he practically tore the car door off its hinges, leaped out, and bellowed at the top of his lungs:
‘Meari! Where is the new Meari?!’
“The man certainly doesn’t lack spirit,” I muttered.
“I was overwhelmed for a second,” Sejun whispered beside me. “Terrified, honestly.”
“You were?”
And so, completely disregarding how he was going to drive back home, CEO Yoon had downed the glass of Meari, leading right up to this moment.
“Haaah…”
He sat dazed, staring blankly into the empty cup with a hollow, devastated expression. While I was deeply grateful that a seasoned drinker like CEO Yoon enjoyed the brew so intensely, I couldn't just leave him in a trance forever.
“CEO Yoon?”
“How could something like this…”
“CEO Yoon Juho!”
“Hm? Ah! Ah, my apologies! Ha-ha! Goodness, the flavor was just so astonishing. Hahaha!”
Even as he let out an embarrassed laugh, his eyes kept darting back to the empty cup. I had to pour him another full measure before we could finally hold a proper conversation.
“How do you plan on getting back? What about driving?”
“Can’t I just have one of my employees come pick me up? If I promise them a bottle of this, they’ll come running with bells on. But speaking of which, what on earth is this?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? This!” Juho pointed fervently at the bottle of Meari he held in his hands, his words spilling out in a breathless rush. “It undoubtedly preserves the core essence of Nokpaju. It’s pristine and bracingly crisp. But on top of that, there's an added nuttiness that brings out a rich, weighty depth, while a gentle sweetness seems to coat the palate, only to finish clean and sharp, retaining the signature character of Meari to absolute perfection! Am I wrong?”
“It sounds like you enjoyed it. That’s a relief.”
“Enjoyed it? Is that all you think this is? Were you preparing this all along? Is this the completed version of Meari? Just how many years of research did it take to achieve a flavor like this…?”
I listened quietly as his questions cascaded over me. Depending on how you looked at it, it had taken either an eternity or practically no time at all. If I counted from my previous life until now, it had taken ten whole years, yet compared to the decades true masters dedicated to the craft, my time was hopelessly short. Besides, from Juho’s perspective, I was merely a novice who had barely started brewing alcohol a year ago, so of course it looked incomprehensible to him.
Just as I opened my mouth to offer a modest excuse, Sejun cut in first.
“He didn’t plan this at all.”
“Pardon? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, we were just brewing Meari like usual, and then out of nowhere, he mumbled some nonsense to himself and whipped this up on the spot!”
“Wait, does that make any sense? How is that even possible?”
“Honestly, I still can’t believe it myself,” Sejun said, shaking his head from side to side until he ended up treating me like someone possessed. “I’m starting to think he’s literally haunted by an alcohol ghost or something.”
Hearing Sejun’s explanation, Juho lost what little composure he had left, drawing in a sharp, bewildered breath.
“Ha… Perhaps… that really is the case…”
No, it’s really not.
Could he truly be blessed by a god of liquor?
Juho could not wrap his head around the situation. The young brewer standing before him, Song Yeonwoo, was a beginner who had not even been brewing for a full year. Yet he had created Meari, a spirit already on everyone’s lips among traditional liquor aficionados. What made it more astounding was that Meari had been his very first creation.
And now, what of the sequel he had just presented?
This shouldn't be possible.
Spirits were like exquisite works of art. Endless trial and error was required before all the disparate elements harmonized into the pinnacle of aroma and taste. Yet this young brewer acted as though such painful processes were unnecessary, sprinting straight toward the correct answer—and not just any answer, but a flawless, absolute masterwork.
Unless he has received divine favor, this defies all logic…
Whether he believed it or not, the reality remained unchanged: Yeonwoo had reborn Meari into an even more magnificent spirit.
I have to hold onto this man for life, no matter what.
The first success could be chalked up to luck, but the second was undeniable skill. Lightning simply did not strike twice in the exact same spot. Moreover, Yeonwoo wasn't merely a gifted artisan who knew how to brew; he possessed a seasoned shrewdness that defied his years.
It was as if he were living his second life. Juho himself had already benefited immensely from that uncanny wisdom.
To think that bastard was doing something so vile behind my back…
Immediately following Yeonwoo’s casual warning, Juho had initiated an internal audit, quickly smoking out an employee who had been committing blatant fraud. He had secured evidence that the man was receiving kickbacks in exchange for leaking Juju Daily’s confidential business ventures to outsiders. All the frustrating headwinds and sabotage the company had suffered recently were traceable to that single rotten egg. The moment Juho terminated him, the murky troubles clouding the company’s future cleared away like morning mist.
Perhaps I have crossed paths with a destined benefactor… No, he is already my benefactor.
And Juho was a man who knew precisely how to treat a true benefactor.
“Yeonwoo, would it be possible to increase our order volume?”
“More than what we supply now? We're already delivering a hundred and fifty bottles a day.”
“Yes. That was sufficient until now, but going forward, it won't be enough.” Juho held up three fingers with absolute conviction. “Three hundred bottles. We need at least that much.”
It was a cold, calculated estimate. Even now, Juju Daily barely managed to avoid running out of stock because Songhadang was hitting its quotas without a hitch. The slightest drop in supply would have triggered an instant sellout. And with this upgraded version of Meari entering the picture?
“Frankly speaking, three hundred is already a conservative number I threw out considering Songhadang's capacity.”
“Mmm…”
“If the unit price is an issue, we can revise the contract and raise the payout per bottle—”
“Ah, no, it's not that. I appreciate the generous offer, but…”
Seeing Yeonwoo furrow his brow with a low, troubled groan, Juho had scrambled to offer better contract terms, but that clearly wasn't the issue. After a brief pause, Yeonwoo gave an awkward, sheepish smile.
“I don’t think we can do that right now.”
“What? Is there something you're dissatisfied with…?”
“No, truly, it's nothing like that. It’s simply that we don't have the capacity to make that many.”
“Ah…”
Left with no other option, Juho could only let his dismayed helplessness show openly on his face.
“Whew. This really is a dilemma.”
“What’s the problem?”
“An opportunity is staring us right in the face, and we can’t seize it. CEO Yoon had to walk away empty-handed.”
I let out a heavy sigh as I answered Sejun. Having understood our constraints, Juho had trudged back toward his car to return to Juju Daily’s headquarters in Seoul. An employee had driven all the way out to ferry him back, so I wasn't sure if ‘trudged’ was the most accurate description, but his slumped shoulders as he walked across the gravel lot certainly looked that way.
“He did look like a guy who just got dumped after confessing his feelings,” Sejun agreed.
“Even after expanding our facilities, we’re still stuck like this.”
Our recent equipment overhaul had been an aggressive, borderline reckless investment on our part. We had spent so much capital that we risked struggling to recoup the principal if anything went awry. Fortunately, things had gone smoothly according to plan, bringing in an average of twenty million won in daily sales, but we couldn't expect any further revenue growth under the current setup. Above all else, we lacked the manpower to brew more spirits.
“Even with you and me sweating through the day, this is our absolute limit.”
Working around the clock, Sejun and I could produce an average of two hundred bottles of Meari a day. And that assumed we did nothing else from sunrise to midnight. It factored in Sejun’s monstrous physical stamina, combined with the fact that my brewing technique virtually guaranteed that every single batch fermented flawlessly without spoilage.
“If we add any other chores to our plate, that day’s output gets cut in half—or quartered.”
“Tell me about it. Remember what happened when we had to design the labels?”
“Is it just the labels? Think about the hours we have to spend driving around to source premium ingredients.”
Exceptional raw materials were an absolute prerequisite for brewing great spirits. Up until now, we had been lucky that Grandfather had already established ties with farms producing high-grade specialty rice. But what about when we began brewing other spirits down the line? What about when we required entirely different ingredients?
“And on top of that, we have to keep conducting research,” I added.
“Right… Ugh, all this brainwork really doesn't suit me,” Sejun groaned, pressing his massive palms against his temples.
To save the Dokkaebi race, I needed to travel across the entire country, visiting breweries of every discipline regardless of whether they made takju, yakju, or distilled soju. Moreover, running a growing business required substantial administrative time. Additional hands were not just a luxury; they were a dire necessity.
“At least we posted the job opening,” I noted.
Hopefully, this problem would find a solution soon.
“Hey, Sejun. What time did you say today’s interviewee was arriving?”
“Three o’clock. Got a text saying she’s in a taxi on her way here.”
“One person won't be enough, though. Finding people is tough… A few applied, but honestly…”
Songhadang was nestled deep in the mountains of Yeongwol, Gangwon Province. Because brewing required pristine natural spring water, being located deep in a rural mountain valley was inevitable. Naturally, recruiting fresh talent was an uphill battle.
“Still, we had surprisingly many applicants,” Sejun said.
“Applicants, sure.”
“Yeah… just applicants.”
The sheer number of resumes had exceeded expectations, but the number of sane individuals among them was practically zero.
“We literally had a guy ask how much alcohol he could drink on the clock and whether he got free booze through an employee discount,” Sejun grumbled.
It had been an eye-opening reminder of just how many people lacked basic professionalism. In fact, Sejun’s complaint was on the mild side. Just yesterday, an applicant had marched in, declared himself a traditional liquor specialist, and demanded an executive director position on the spot. When I asked him what his favorite distilled soju was, he proudly proclaimed that Meari was the best. The man didn’t even know the difference between yakju and soju; he just wanted to ride on our rising fame.
“I hope the person coming today is normal,” Sejun mumbled, rubbing his chin.
I recalled the resume that had caught my eye. If it were up to me, I would have loved to hire another powerhouse laborer like Sejun, but that wasn't realistic right now. For the time being, Sejun and I would handle the brewing while we hired someone to shoulder the peripheral tasks. Today's candidate was one of them.
“By the way, what does packaging design actually involve?” Sejun asked.
“Product design. Things like bottle labels and packaging concepts. Ah, looks like she’s here.”
Right on cue, a yellow rural taxi pulled up smoothly to the front gate. Stepping out of the back seat was a petite woman with a crisp, jaw-length bob cut. After bowing at a ninety-degree angle to the taxi driver, she spun on her heels, locked eyes with us, and delivered an earth-shattering greeting.
“Hellooooo! I am Yoo Hajeong, and I applied because I couldn't bear to look at your labels anymoreee!”
“…It’s cold outside, so please come in first,” I managed to say.
“Ah! Yeeeees! Thank you very much!”
Hajeong answered with booming confidence. As she snapped into another ninety-degree bow, her neat bob swung forward in a sharp, glossy arc. I stood there scratching the back of my head in utter bemusement, completely unable to discern whether this woman was impeccably polite or profoundly unhinged.
“She seems weird…” Sejun whispered behind his hand.
“Haha… Well, she’s still an applicant.”
“No, I’m sure of it. She’s definitely weird.”
Regardless of what Sejun thought, her initiative was undeniable.
“Ah! You told me to come in, but where should I go?”
“Ah, yes. This way, please.”
Snapping out of my daze, I led Hajeong toward the office. The creaky wooden door swung open to reveal a total mess—not that a bomb had gone off, but towers of paperwork and receipts were stacked precariously across every available surface.
“You’re Yoo Hajeong, correct? Shall we begin with a brief self-introduction?”
“Yes! That is correct, I am Yoo Hajeong! I am twenty-three years old…”
And so, the interview began. Sejun was the first to speak, watching her as she widened her eyes with a hint of belated tension.
“You applied for product design… specifically our label design. Is there a particular reason you chose us?”
“Ah! As I shouted outside, I applied because I couldn't stand the sight of Meari’s label design anymoreee!”
She’s… normal, right?