Facing What Lies Ahead (1)
The gift Moktong had bestowed upon me was something impossible to explain in a way anyone could truly understand, no matter how carefully I put it into words.
And why wouldn't it be?
How could anyone explain being able to foresee the distant future of alcohol?
How could I tell people that isoamyl acetate—the compound responsible for the ripe banana and fruit aromas common in makgeolli, sake, or weizen beer—would soon bloom, or that phenylethyl alcohol would eventually impart a profound, velvety body to the spirit?
Rather than fumbling through such pedantic explanations, it was far more natural to simply say, This is what I sense.
"Whoa... this is truly..."
Dongjeongchun was a traditional takju brewed with virtually no added water. Transferring it directly into an aging cask in that state would invite disaster; the thick sediment could clog the wood pores, triggering runaway fermentation inside or spoiling the entire batch into rot.
Because of that, the Dongjeongchun we racked this time had its cloudy solids thoroughly filtered out, leaving only a pristine, clear cheongju.
And the result of infusing a cask previously seasoned with black raspberry wine with Dongjeongchun's signature fruitiness...
"This is guaranteed to succeed."
<It could hardly be otherwise, hoho.>
<What's that now? Were you doubtin' this ol' Moktong's word, lad?>
What washed over my senses was not mere heaviness, but the pinnacle of refinement and brilliance. It felt as though delicate aromatic particles, once smothered beneath thick texture, were bursting outward in all directions to flaunt their glory—yet remaining poised and composed, like an opulent gala held in immaculate taste.
Dongjeongchun's clean Korean melon and crisp green grape aromas seized the nose first, swiftly pursued by dried pomegranate, dark cherry, and a whisper of gently layered leather. Then, rich vanilla seeping from the oak wood drew out a nutty nuance of toffee nut.
"And it doesn't stop there."
Though its syrupy heft had melted away, the texture itself was far from gone. An exquisite, silky oiliness draped across the tongue like fine velvet, and the deep, savory sweetness inherent to pure glutinous rice stimulated the palate, holding it captive in an inescapable trance. The mouth felt as pure and refreshed as if rinsed with clean spring water, yet with every breath exhaled, ripe plum blended effortlessly into a subtle, lingering woody finish.
"Yeonwoo?"
"Huh? What?"
"Why are you standing there looking like you've already downed three cups?"
Only when Sejun spoke did I snap out of my radiant reverie.
What I had just experienced was, after all, merely the finished spirit foreseen through Moktong's supernatural intuition.
What a pity. If only these two fellow alcohol lovers could have tasted and smelled this, they would have carried that bliss through the rest of the day—no, perhaps until the very moment this spirit finished its barrel maturation.
"It's just... I can tell this is going to be an incredible liquor."
"You know you've been acting seriously weird lately, right?"
"Huh? Me?"
"Yeah, totally. You're the only one who doesn't see it. Even Ms. Hajeong thinks so."
"Honestly, I do!" Hajeong shot her hand straight up as if she had been waiting for the cue. "I mean, you were unusual from the start, Boss, but lately it feels even more intense!"
"In what way?"
"It's like you're possessed by spirits!"
"Excuse me?"
<Gwahaha! Now that lass is a hoot! Sharp as a tack, too! Possessed by spirits? Well, she ain't wrong, is she! Bahaha!>
<Now, now... Moktong. Restrain yourself, my friend.>
Hearing Hajeong's remark, Moktong roared with laughter, while Songha offered a gentle chuckle beside him, waving his hand to calm the crusty elder.
Come to think of it, my behavior really had been unusual. I kept raising a fuss about brewing spirits I had never made before, let alone tasted. Granted, the results turned out successful almost every time, but to outside eyes, it must have looked like some supernatural force was pulling the strings.
So that was why she thought I was possessed.
"Regardless, I love it! As long as you stay healthy, Boss! Because I want to keep drinking the spirits you make forever!"
"Phew. Same here, man. Brewing great booze is fine and all, but take care of yourself. I worry about you, Yeonwoo."
"Thanks, Sejun. Thank you, Hajeong. I'll make sure to look after myself."
Such wonderful people. Looking out for one another and offering genuine, heartfelt support. Sejun had been an invaluable friend who believed in me unconditionally in my past life as well, and Hajeong, who had joined our circle in this life, was just as cherished. With people like this by my side, I felt ready to weather whatever storm came our way.
Just as that thought crossed my mind—
Riiiing~
"Boss, isn't that your phone ringing?"
"Ah, yes. It's CEO Yoon Juho."
"CEO Yoon? From Juju Daily?"
"Yeah. Let me step aside and take this real quick."
CEO Yoon Juho wasn't someone who called casually. I considered it his own thoughtful consideration; he knew that if he kept calling during working hours, it would interrupt my brewing. Though, of course, whenever I notified him that a stellar new batch was ready, he would call repeatedly without shame.
"For him to call out of nowhere..."
<Must mean something has happened, wouldn't you say?>
"I just hope it's good news."
Muttering my reply to Songha, I answered the phone.
"Hello, CEO Yoon. Song Yeonwoo speaking—"
— CEO Song! We've got an emergency!
Perhaps because our relationship had grown so comfortable over time, he dispensed with pleasantries and cut straight to the chase the moment the line connected.
"An emergency?"
My stomach dropped. An emergency? What on earth had happened? Having returned from the past, I took pride in knowing the major historical shifts of this era, yet even with foreknowledge, there was no telling what kind of butterfly effect my changes might provoke.
"Did something go wrong?"
— That new version of Meari you just released!
"You mean Meari: Autumn?"
— Yes, that!
Strangely, though, I heard no real panic in Juho's booming voice. There was a tremor, yes, but it sounded far less like dread and much more like overwhelming anticipation for what was about to unfold. Sure enough...
— Have you been monitoring the public reaction?
"Of course."
The Nokpaju we named Meari: Autumn had garnered nothing but rave reviews from the very beginning. The fact that it had been perceived as a limited edition certainly helped fuel the initial feeding frenzy, but fundamentally, the spirit itself was simply magnificent.
Thanks to this, consumer response was through the roof. While some people cursed occasionally, it was never over the taste, but rather bitter laments over the agonizingly tiny supply.
Some even mistakenly assumed that Songhadang had deliberately withheld stock to artificially inflate the brand's prestige. But that was an unfair accusation; brewing Meari: Autumn was a painstaking, intricate craft requiring immense labor. Even combining Sejun's dedication and borrowing the hands of Hajeong—who had only recently begun learning the trade—there was a strict physical ceiling to how much we could produce.
"I'm deeply grateful that people love it so much, but I just feel terribly sorry that we can't produce more. But is there a problem...?"
— That right there is the problem!
"Pardon? What do you mean...?"
— Do you know what the number one inquiry flooding Juju Daily is these days?
"What is it?"
— "When will Meari: Autumn be restocked?" Juho's tone shifted as he read out the tickets verbatim. "Are there any longer-aged versions of Nokpaju available?"
"Ah... about that..."
— "Do you plan to continue carrying all future spirits released by Songhadang?"
Now my heart was pounding for an entirely different reason. Every single inquiry reflected tremendous anticipation for Songhadang's alcohol. It meant that people had etched the three syllables of Songhadang firmly into their hearts and were eagerly waiting for the spirits we crafted. The very dream I had yearned for so desperately in my past life was unfolding right before my eyes.
— Now do you see why I called it an emergency?
"I suppose it really is an emergency."
— The dilemma is that you can't ramp up production immediately... Urrrgh. So, in that spirit, I want to make a proposal.
"What kind of proposal?"
— If expanding your own facilities right away is difficult, have you considered OEM?
"You mean contract manufacturing?"
OEM—Original Equipment Manufacturer. While the acronym carried a convoluted business definition, it essentially meant outsourcing the physical manufacturing to a specialized commercial factory while retaining product formulation, branding, and design.
Under ordinary circumstances, Juho's proposal would have been the textbook solution to our bottleneck.
If this were any ordinary product, that is.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible."
— Mmmph... I had a feeling you'd say that... Artisans never take kindly to that word. Juho let out a groan of resignation, as if he had already anticipated my refusal.
Though my reasons differed from what he imagined, he was right: I had zero intention of going the OEM route. I couldn't. The sole reason this spirit possessed such sublime flavor was because I personally brewed it with my own hands. Without directly observing the evolving flavors and aromas, without being able to envision the future spirit and guide it, there was no way to consistently produce alcohol of this caliber.
"Even with a recipe, brewing liquor isn't something that turns out identical just by following steps on paper."
— That's the beauty of it, sure... but if you're worried about quality dropping, I can't argue with that.
"I'm sorry, CEO Yoon."
— No need to apologize! I saw it coming anyway. In that case, let me make another offer. Juho let out a hearty laugh and immediately pivoted to his second idea.
Hearing it, I couldn't help asking in disbelief.
"Are you serious? We can really do that?"
— Of course! If you're game, we can make it happen in a heartbeat. I'll build the bridge for you. What do you say?
And no wonder I was stunned...
— A pop-up store.
It was a concept that had never even crossed my mind.
"What? Is that true?!"
"Yes. That's how it turned out."
"Whoaaa! That's incredible!"
The moment I shared the details of the call, Sejun and Hajeong jumped for joy. And with good reason; this was a massive opportunity brokered by none other than Juju Daily.
"I never imagined things would go this way, though..."
Until that proposal arrived, my intention had been to sell Meari through our usual channels. Expanding our brewing setup wouldn't immediately cause bottles to rain from the sky anyway. While we could have simply stayed the course, Juho's earnest petition compelled us to pivot our strategy.
"He mentioned the customer inquiries were getting out of hand."
"Out of hand?"
"Yes. According to their consumer data analytics, three hundred bottles wouldn't even begin to scratch the surface."
If you can't handle the fire, don't play with matches.
Wasn't that the fundamental rule of commerce? If Juju Daily took on sales only to sell out in seconds with no inventory left to fulfill demand, they wouldn't be able to withstand the collective fury of thousands of empty-handed customers. Yet Juju Daily could hardly afford to give up on Meari either.
"And that's where the pop-up store comes in."
Juho suggested utilizing his corporate network to host a limited pop-up store. Because pop-up stores were inherently temporary by design, a limited inventory wouldn't provoke nearly as much backlash. In exchange, he requested a steady supply of future batches of 'Meari: Autumn' for his platform, allowing Juju Daily to position themselves as champions stepping in to help customers who missed out at the pop-up.
It was a win-win for us as well.
<Knew it the second I laid eyes on the blighter! Keh-keh!>
The two dokkaebis seemed in high spirits as well, casually pouring themselves bowls of liquor while eavesdropping on our conversation.
However, an unexpected variable emerged.
"Still... I never expected it to be at Sunkyung Department Store..."
In truth, Juho's original connection had been with an affiliate of Geosung Group, one of South Korea's top conglomerates. Before reaching out to me, he had floated the idea with them, and they had reacted with immense enthusiasm. Yet somehow, along the way, the deal had abruptly collapsed.
'I honestly have no idea what went wrong,' Juho had lamented over the phone. 'They were practically begging to move forward just yesterday, and then out of nowhere, cold feet. Tsk.'
If Juho himself couldn't figure out why, there was little I could do. Just as the plan appeared dead in the water, however, Sunkyung Department Store contacted us out of the blue—as if they had known all along. And that was before even I, the principal party, had finalized any details about a pop-up store.
"That's... actually a little eerie..."
<In every age, underestimating the ears and eyes of a merchant will cost you dearly, my friend.>
Sunkyung was a corporate titan on par with Geosung. For the flagship department store of such a colossal conglomerate to extend an invitation to us first...
"I looked over the contract they sent, and surprisingly, most of the terms are heavily in our favor."
Just as expected, Sejun and Hajeong welcomed the news with open arms.
"Of course we have to do it! Why are you even asking us before signing?!"
"In that case, please leave the booth design to me! I promise I'll create a visual concept that captivates every single person who walks by, from start to finish!"
And so, cheered on by everyone's enthusiasm, I stamped my seal on the contract.
How much time had passed since then?
"Time really does fly..."
The opening day of the pop-up store had finally arrived.