The Grifters (1)
“What on earth is this...?”
“Did I not tell you? Swindlers, the lot of them. Disgraceful creatures, truly.”
Songha scowled deeply as he looked out at the crowd encamped directly before Songhadang’s front gate.
Before anyone realized it, Moktong—who usually never stirred from the maturation cellar—had drifted over as well. Taking a leisurely swig of liquor, he clicked his tongue in disgust.
“Tsk-tsk! Good-for-nothing scamps, everywhere you look! Bah! What an eyesore. I’m headin’ back inside!”
Leaving only those grumbled words behind, he dissolved into thin air.
The two dokkaebi dismissed them as swindlers and loafers, but in the human world, they went by a different title: protesters, or environmental activists. Their grand assertion was that our humble Songhadang was desecrating Yeongwol’s natural scenery, and that our brewery’s byproducts were poisoning the local ecosystem.
“What in the world is going on out there?”
“Can they really just set up camp like this?”
Drawn by the racket outside, all of Songhadang’s employees hurried out into the courtyard. Through it all, the crowd’s bullhorns showed no signs of stopping.
“Destroying nature just to get drunk! Down with reckless administration!”
“Listen to the locals! Stop ignoring the residents!”
Yet not a single phrase made any sense. What crime had we committed by brewing spirits? Moreover, Songhadang sat upon land my grandfather had tended for decades. How on earth could they accuse us of disregarding the local community?
Still, that was merely my perspective. The problem had already arrived on our doorstep, and it was up to me to deal with it.
“How much inventory was scheduled for pickup today?” I asked.
“Um... mostly orders bound for Juju Daily, plus a batch destined for the bars,” Sejun answered.
“Then we can’t afford to just leave them out there.”
A fair bit of time had passed since its debut, but Meari’s standing on Juju Daily was as formidable as ever—if anything, demand had only surged. Everyday consumers bombarded the platform demanding larger allocations, prompting their representatives to call us almost daily. In circumstances like these, delaying our shipments was out of the question; it meant breaking faith with our customers.
“Should we call the police first?” someone suggested.
“I already called them,” Sejun sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Phew... I don’t even know what’s going on anymore...”
“I have a pretty good idea,” I said.
“What? How?”
Sejun, who had been sighing relentlessly, snapped his head toward me in surprise. It was only natural for him to be bewildered. These people had descended upon us out of nowhere, without so much as a warning letter. How could I—someone who had been sweating beside him in the brewing room the entire time—possibly know the truth behind it?
Yet I knew. Because in my past life, the exact same thing had happened.
“Once the officers arrive, I’ll go out and speak with them.”
“Boss! That’s too dangerous!”
“It’s not dangerous, truly. As a safeguard, we’ll record the whole conversation on video.”
Indeed, there was no real danger. These people wanted only one thing.
Not that I had the slightest intention of giving it to them.
After we watched the scene unfold from behind the gates for a short while, the faint wail of a siren announced the arrival of a patrol car heading up our drive. Or rather, attempting to head up our drive. The picketers were barricading the road in full force, and the local precinct clearly didn’t have the personnel to dispatch a massive squad deep into these mountains.
“Alright, folks! Police! Please calm down and clear the passage!”
“Look here, officer! This is a peaceful demonstration!”
“Are the police trying to suppress the people with brute force?!”
“Now, hold on... Haah... Good grief...”
The two officers let out weary sighs.
The moment had come. With Sejun holding the video camera, I stepped past the main gates.
The instant we emerged, sharp, predatory gazes snapped toward us. A man standing in the front row was the first to bark.
“Are you the one in charge here? The owner?”
“Yes. I am Song Yeonwoo, the master brewer and representative of Songhadang. What brings you all here?”
“What brings us here? Don’t play dumb after all the noise we’ve made! Is that why you called the cops on us?”
Rather than seeking dialogue, the man yelled right off the bat. Emboldened by his hostility, the crowd behind him raised their voices in unison, shaking their pickets aggressively.
Beside me, Sejun gritted his teeth, visibly itching to shout right back. I wanted to tell him not to worry, but I held my tongue. In the end, this was a contest of moral high ground.
“Yes, I heard your chants,” I replied calmly. “You claim that we are destroying the environment?”
“Of course you are! Yeongwol is famous for its crystal-clear water! Putting a factory like this here—huh? Don’t you know Yeongwol has strict zoning restrictions on industrial plants? Throwing up a commercial distillery out of nowhere... there’s clearly some dirty backroom collusion going on!”
“And what is it you want?”
“Compensation! You need to compensate the local residents for our damages!”
The man bellowed as if demanding an overdue debt.
Right. It was an exact repeat of my past life. Back then, the moment our spirits found a little traction and positive rumors began to circulate, these very parasites showed up on our doorstep—extortionists masquerading as an eco-conscious civic organization.
It wasn't that their registration as a civic group was fraudulent. What was fraudulent was their supposed love for nature. All they cared about was squeezing out cash.
“Songhadang has been operating on this land since my grandfather’s generation,” I said evenly. “All of our wastewater and brewing byproducts are handled in strict compliance with environmental regulations.”
“So what if you meet regulations?! Does that erase the damage suffered by the locals? Huh?! You think you can brush us off with a few slick excuses?!”
I had no intention of resolving this through compromise either. In truth, I had tried that in my previous life. Back then, I naively took their grievances at face value. Under the guise of 'community compensation,' I handed over money.
That had been a disastrous misstep.
Treating us like easy marks, they kept returning, ratcheting up their demands for more cash. This time, however, things would be different.
“If you continue obstructing our gates, we will have no choice but to take legal action over safety and operational disruption.”
“Look at this punk! Hey! Are you really the owner? Huh?!”
The man jabbed an aggressive finger in my face, his voice rising in fury.
Meanwhile, the two police officers managed to squeeze through the crowd, planting themselves between us and the protesters.
“Aigoo, what is wrong with you people? Do you realize this is an unsanctioned assembly? You’re making things difficult for everyone.”
“The police are oppressing ordinary citizens! You think this will stop us? We’ll be back every single day! Just try and stop us!”
“Good grief... Whew... Hey, call for backup. We can’t manage this with just the two of us. Excuse me, sir? Please head back inside for now. It’s not safe out here.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
Escorted by the officers, we stepped back into the distillery grounds. I let out a long breath. Even knowing what was coming, facing such bad faith directly was an exhausting ordeal.
Sejun was in no better shape; his face was flushed bright red as he huffed with indignation.
I tapped his shoulder lightly. “Sejun, did you get it all?”
“Huh? Yeah. Those bastards... I recorded every single second. Ugh, that loudmouth looks like he’d fold in one hit, seriously.”
I checked the camera screen. Both the video resolution and audio clarity were spotless. That was our first layer of defense secured.
“Shall we head inside and hold a quick meeting?”
“Phew, yeah, let’s. Man, my blood is boiling.”
“Looks like the boss feels the same way,” Ha-jeong chimed in softly.
It was only natural for Sejun to be furious. And me? To say I wasn’t angry would be a lie.
“Their motive is obvious,” I began once we gathered inside.
“Seems that way to me too,” Sejun agreed. “They’re just trying to shake us down for cash.”
“Exactly. If they truly cared about the environment, they would have tried to reason with us first. It’s standard practice to send an inquiry or a formal complaint by mail before staging a demonstration. Even if they held a rally, demanding cash compensation wouldn't be their opening line.”
In my previous life, I had encountered genuine environmental groups as well. People who truly worried about conservation were actually quite reasonable to speak with. They held no intention of extorting money, and we had reached amicable solutions through mutual understanding.
“Then what should we do?”
“Well, I have a plan. Sejun, is our NewTube channel ready to go?”
“Yeah. Ha-jeong set up everything. All we need to do is upload the video.”
We had been preparing Songhadang’s NewTube channel ever since Meari’s launch and the overhaul of our official website. That project had dragged on endlessly due to our catastrophic lack of aesthetic sense, but once Ha-jeong joined the team, she had whipped it into shape in no time.
Granted, the channel was originally meant to showcase Songhadang’s scenic grounds and promote our artisanal spirits, but desperate times called for different measures.
“Ha-jeong, could you do a quick edit of the footage we just took and upload it? And Sejun, put up a notice on our website stating that shipments may face delays for the foreseeable future.”
“What? But the deliveries...”
“I said may face delays. I’ll personally contact Juju Daily and our other accounts.”
“Then what should I do after that? Uploading won’t take long,” Ha-jeong asked, blinking at me as Sejun scrambled to his keyboard.
I had an assignment for her as well.
“I’d like you to film another video, Ha-jeong. A walkthrough showing how Songhadang actually operates.”
“You mean filming you at work, Boss? Understood!”
“And also... this was something we were planning to do later on, but...”
“Yes? What is it?” she asked, tilting her head.
A faint smile touched my lips as I answered.
“I think it’s time we invite some very special guests to Songhadang.”
“Mmm... It never fails to hit the spot.”
Sitting in his executive office, Yoon Juho poured a glass of Meari. While he had access to an endless variety of spirits, these days he rarely felt like drinking anything other than Meari. Of course, drinking during office hours was hardly commendable, so he indulged in quiet sips behind his employees’ backs.
The crisp, mountain-fresh aroma rising from the crystal-clear liquor gently enveloped his senses.
“Haah. Perfection.”
Just as he was about to savor a mouthful, his phone rang sharply on the desk.
“Tsk, an interruption at a time like this... Who on earth... Hm? Songhadang?”
The caller ID displayed the number of Song Yeonwoo, the master brewer of Songhadang.
Juho raised an eyebrow in surprise. Yeonwoo almost never initiated phone calls out of the blue. He always met delivery deadlines to the dot and maintained immaculate liquor quality, so there was rarely any need to call.
“Heh. Could it be... that they can increase their supply volume?”
He couldn’t help the surge of anticipation. His heart quickening, Juho set his glass down and answered.
“Hahaha! Master Song! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Alas, that had merely been wishful thinking. As the call progressed, Juho’s cheerful expression gradually warped into a grimace. Before long, the sound of grinding teeth and a low rumble of anger escaped his lips.
“I see... Understood... The nerve of these vultures... Whew. Of course I will cooperate! Naturally! Don’t you worry about a thing; I’ll align our side with your narrative. Shipments as planned? Haha, my good man, don’t sweat it. Pests like these need to have their spirits broken right from the start.”
After the brief call concluded, Juho put down his phone and exhaled a heavy sigh. His temple twitched in irritation.
“This is why these freeloading bastards make my blood boil.”
“Representative Yoon! May I come in?”
“Come in.”
Following a hurried knock, a Juju Daily staff member burst into the office. He had rushed in so frantically that his glasses were crooked.
“We have an emergency! On Songhadang’s official homepage—”
“Ah, I’m aware. I’ve already checked.”
“Y-You have?”
Naturally, he hadn’t seen the site yet; he had simply been briefed over the phone by Yeonwoo moments earlier.
With the employee standing before him, Juho pulled up Songhadang’s website on his monitor. A prominent banner immediately greeted his eyes.
We regret to inform you that due to ongoing demonstrations blockading the entrance of Songhadang, all scheduled shipments of Meari may face indefinite delays.
Songhadang remains firmly committed to preserving the uncompromising aroma and flavor our patrons cherish. We will do everything in our power to restore normal operations at the earliest possible date.
“It says indefinite delay, sir! Our current warehouse stock is practically zero—”
“Then publish an announcement on our platform.”
“Pardon?”
“What else can we do? It’s not like we can send goons to beat up ‘peaceful’ protesters.”
Tapping his fingers rhythmically against the mahogany desk, Juho continued in a measured tone.
“Cancel all pending orders and issue an official apology notice. Have customer service call affected clients directly. Ah, and while you’re at it, include the link to Songhadang’s homepage notice in our apology statement.”
“Ah... Understood, sir.”
“You may leave.”
The employee bowed stiffly and scurried out.
Letting out another weary sigh, Juho reached for his glass of Meari, only to set it back down.
“Hrm... So this means... I really might not be able to drink this for quite a while...”
How could he waste a single drop now? Suppressing his craving with a tight grimace, he reflected on the countermeasure Yeonwoo had outlined over the phone.
“He truly knows how to maneuver with the cunning of a seasoned veteran...”
If Yeonwoo weren’t the master brewer of his own distillery, Juho would have moved heaven and earth to scout him as an executive.
“In that case, I’ll give him all the support I can muster.”
That very day, an official apology went live on Juju Daily.
It notified customers that all scheduled Meari orders would be completely refunded, followed by a notice that under no circumstances could Meari be sold for the foreseeable future—alongside a direct link to Songhadang’s statement.
“What? A protest?”
“Wait, what’s their problem?!”
“I waited a whole week for this drop!”
It was glaringly obvious that fans who had been counting down the minutes for Meari would erupt in outrage.
“What? No Meari?”
“Ah, you hadn’t heard? Protesters have been blockading Songhadang every day, so deliveries are completely paralyzed.”
“What? What kind of protest?”
“Some environmental civic group, apparently...”
Rumors spread like wildfire.
Curiosity swelled to a boiling point among the public.
Just what kind of protest was this, and how could it bring deliveries to a dead halt?
And right at that moment, a brand-new video was uploaded to NewTube.
Dry kindling, poised to transform the public’s mounting curiosity into blazing fury.