Sweet Palace, Dalvorde (1)
Inside the unsealed onggi pot, a clear, shimmering liquor rippled softly.
Floating above its surface drifted scents resembling ethereal spirits.
Until now, Yeonwoo's olfactory visions had manifested largely around floral outings in verdant mountains or glimpses of confectionary palaces. But this batch was distinctly different.
"Whoa..."
"What a splendid fragrance," Songha murmured, his tone laced with refined appreciation. "Most... most alluring, I must say."
The first sensation to strike the nose was a bright, tropical fruitiness—a luscious aroma led by the sweet, tangy punch of pineapple and guava. Woven beneath it lay a rich, velvety creaminess that anchored the entire bouquet.
"It's truly beautiful."
The spirits embodied in the vapor were just as stunning.
Rising before his inner eye stood a towering traditional pavilion. Beneath its magnificent, multicolored dancheong eaves, aromatic spirits draped in brilliant crimson hanbok gathered, flaunting their mesmerizing, seductive graces. It was the sort of vision that could pull a person in until they completely lost their senses.
One conclusion was inescapable.
"This is a success."
"'Course it is!" Moktong cackled. "After all the liquor I guzzled down, it'd better be! This is more'n enough, I tell ya!"
Perhaps it was thanks to the unglazed onggi and the thinly lye-glazed pots. Moktong had grumbled that siphoning off his share of liquor had been far easier than usual, likely due to the breathability inherent to the ceramic pores. Whether a supernatural entity like a dokkaebi truly obeyed such scientific principles remained a mystery, but the outcome spoke for itself.
The Songhadang crew gathered around the pot were equally ecstatic.
"Whoa. This aroma is insane!"
"It feels so unbelievably luxurious!"
"Seriously! It smells like something I could never afford with my current bank account!"
"Yehyeon... our money... comes from the boss..."
The last remark strayed into unnecessary territory, but it merely proved how deeply moved they were.
True liquor, however, was meant to be appreciated not just by scent, but by taste.
Sejun dashed over, retrieved tasting cups for everyone, and poured a measure into each. "Let's give it a taste. My mouth is already watering!"
"Sounds great!"
Cups clinked lightly together, and the liquor flowed across their tongues.
A shock of sensation surged in that very instant—or rather, an experience that transcended mere physical sensation.
A kaleidoscope of tropical fruits danced upon the palate. The luscious notes yielded smoothly, drenching the entire mouth in bursting, succulent juices. Simultaneously, a jammy essence of concentrated red berries coated the gums and teeth, radiating sustained brilliance. It was an exceptionally heavy, velvety body paired with an elegant, refined acidity.
Yet that wasn't all.
"Man... what is this? Why does it go down so effortlessly?"
"When we took the specific gravity, it measured a solid eighteen percent ABV," Sejun remarked, blinking in surprise. "There's definitely a solid strike to it."
"Ah! I think I get what you mean!" Yehyeon chimed in. "It has a distinct body and impact, but there isn't any harsh alcohol burn at all!"
"It's so good..."
The sensation that typically drove people away from high-proof spirits was the fiery punch striking the back of the throat. Described charitably, it was called punch or bite; described critically, it was dismissed as harsh alcohol booze. While a certain degree of heat could be seen as character, excessive burn simply overwhelmed the drinker.
This brew, however, was fundamentally different.
It delivered the undeniable presence and weight of eighteen percent alcohol, yet without a shred of abrasive burden.
"Those onggi jars you brought back," Songha noted gently. "The artisan who crafted them poured his very soul into the clay."
"Truth be told, I barely had to do a lick of work!" Moktong cackled, rubbing his chin. "The damn pot was breathin' so lively on its own that it chewed right through every last trace of off-flavors. Keh-heh!"
It was the power of Grandfather Gyeongsik's handmade jars.
The ash glaze derived from burned oak had scrubbed away unwanted impurities, while the micro-pores of the iron-rich clay tempered the spirit's sharp edges, buffing them into silk. Without these bespoke vessels, such a balanced profile could never have been born.
"Phew... incredible. Yeonwoo, how on earth did you come up with this?"
"That's what I'm saying!" Sejun exclaimed. "You just tinkered around for a bit, and bam, you pulled off another masterpiece on the first try!"
"Honestly, I didn't want to believe the rumors," Yehyeon said, wide-eyed, "but Boss, do you have some kind of divine spiritual channel or something?"
"Seconded..."
It wasn't divine intervention—though he did happen to harbor actual dokkaebi. More than anything, Yeonwoo had succeeded on the first attempt because of the hard-won lessons from his previous life.
This was a spirit he had poured his blood and sweat into brewing once before.
In a sense, it was the culmination of his and Sejun's past struggles. Back then, when all their other traditional liquors were deemed uncompetitive, their red yeast brew had received a comparatively favorable reception from the public.
Of course, 'favorable' had only been relative to their earlier failures.
'The aroma is nice, but the flavor is way too intense.'
'Far too sour.'
'Ugh. Smells like straight rubbing alcohol.'
Back then, the color and bouquet had shown exceptional promise, but the taste had fallen flat. They had aimed for a bold, tart fruitiness, only to produce an overwhelmingly vinegary liquor reeking of raw ethanol. It was bitterly ironic that such an imperfect concoction had been the fragile thread barely keeping the old Songhadang afloat.
"So, what are we naming this one?"
"Hongya," Yeonwoo answered cleanly. "Red Night."
Hongya.
It was the perfect moniker. Brewed with red yeast rice, the liquid gleamed with a deep scarlet hue, exuded an opulent aroma of crimson berries, and carried a profound, velvety warmth. Every drop matched the sultry allure of a red night.
Sejun nodded in complete agreement, deciding naming rights were best left to Yeonwoo, before snapping his fingers. "Oh. By the way, with quality like this, couldn't we bottle it and start selling right away?"
"It's not time yet."
Onggi jars offered immense advantages for fermentation and aging, but they carried an inherent drawback: each handmade pot possessed slight variances in porosity and performance, yielding subtly different results. Treating a single batch's triumph as complete success would be premature.
"Once the remaining jars arrive, I'm going to stagger the aging cycles across them."
"Ah, so you can blend them together before bottling?"
"Right. That's the only way to guarantee a consistent flavor profile fit for commercial sale."
"Then we've got nothing to worry about."
Sejun grinned and held up Yeonwoo's smartphone, which had been set aside on the counter while inspecting the liquor. The screen was illuminated by an incoming text message.
"Time to go pick up the onggi."
"I'll start brainstorming the label design right away!" Yehyeon cheered, clutching his chest. "My heart's already pounding!"
"Keh-heh! Another damn fine brew in the world!" Moktong chortled heartily.
"My heartfelt congratulations," Songha added with a warm smile. "Truly an auspicious day."
Another signature liquor had officially taken root at Songhadang.
— Wow! This is ridiculously delicious! That sweet richness washes all the way to the back of your throat, completely coating your mouth in... what can I even call it...
— Like taking a huge mouthful of honey and pastries?
— Exactly! That's precisely what it feels like!
Jeong Subin's radiant smile beamed through the phone screen. Her blinding grin, capable of leaving virtually anyone swooning, was clearly unscripted. Without tasting something truly extraordinary, genuine delight like that could never be faked.
The comment section beneath the video was equally alive.
Countless comments echoed the same sentiment: viewers had rushed to buy Dalvorde simply because they wanted to experience firsthand what could draw such an ecstatic reaction from Subin.
Yet the chatter went further than that.
A surprising number of comments focused directly on Songhadang's youthful master brewer. A brewery president in his twenties, endowed with striking looks, was prime fodder for public curiosity and gossip. What made him truly remarkable, however, was his undisputed mastery: every single liquor he produced stood beyond reproach.
The commenter had a point.
What was alcohol, fundamentally? In scientific theory, any organic substance containing fermentable sugars that yeast could metabolize could become alcohol. But that principle applied strictly to producing an intoxicating beverage.
Crafting a truly exceptional liquor—and hitting an exact, predetermined flavor profile—required mastering an endless sea of micro-variables. The choice of base ingredients, the vessel used for fermentation and maturation, the water ratio, the precise strain and quality of nuruk... Countless minute factors intertwined to forge a single, irreplaceable taste.
Master brewers spent decades weathering trial and error just to grasp that balance. Among them, those who could reliably brew legendary spirits were few and far between.
Yet what about Yeonwoo?
Every spirit he touched turned to liquid gold, as if he could see the future of the alcohol before it was even brewed—or as if he had already lived through that future and returned.
"Truly a remarkable young fellow..."
Watching Yeonwoo smile gently on screen while explaining Dalvorde, the man in the passenger seat muttered in genuine fascination. Had there ever been an aged yakju that achieved such wild viral acclaim? At least in his memory, there hadn't been.
Of course, a few trendy releases had created buzz in the past. But those were either celebrity collaborations or experimental concoctions whose modern reinterpretation had mutilated the very essence of traditional brewing. He could never bring himself to recognize such products as genuine traditional liquor.
"Yet Songhadang generated this level of response without any heavy-handed marketing..."
It wasn't that they hadn't promoted at all. There was the Hankook Ilbo interview, the pop-up store at Sunkyung Department Store, and finally the collaboration with top actress Jeong Subin. But gimmicks alone could never sustain long-term passion. In the end, spirits had to stand on their own flavor.
"Dalvorde aside, Meari barely received any publicity whatsoever, yet..."
Meari, Songhadang's nokpaju, had received virtually no formal marketing campaign. Even so, its renown on social media continued to climb day after day. The reason was disarmingly simple.
"It was truly delicious..."
A pristine briskness, as if swallowing the pure essence of a deep mountain forest whole. No, it was more than mere refreshment—it was an all-encompassing clarity. The luminous, vibrant vitality of the mountains. And its barrel-aged counterpart, Meari: Autumn, had been no less astonishing.
"That flavor was unmistakably intentional."
A deep, comforting aroma of roasted grains that seemed to capture autumn itself. The nutty richness, married to nuanced layers of dried fruit and gentle sweetness, vividly painted the atmosphere of an autumn mountain. How could such harmony be anything other than deliberate calculation?
"Professor Jeong Manhu, shouldn't we head inside soon?"
"Haha. Is it that time already? It seems I've lost track of the hour."
Snapping out of his thoughts at the driver's prompt, Professor Jeong tucked his phone into his coat pocket with an apologetic smile. Threads of silver laced through his grey hair, lending him an air of cultured scholarship, while behind his genial gaze hid the razor-sharp discernment of a lifelong academic.
"Not at all, sir. Were you watching a Songhadang video?"
"Haha. Yes, they have caught my eye quite frequently of late."
"That brewery is extraordinarily lucky to have caught the attention of Hankuk University's leading professor of Fermented Food Science."
"Now, now, let us not lay on the flattery so thick. Hahaha."
He waved off the praise modestly, but the driver's words held pure truth. Jeong Manhu was a preeminent scholar of fermentation, but he was also one of Korea's premier traditional liquor sommeliers—a legend who had spear-headed numerous national restoration projects based solely on his peerless palate and nose. Having successfully revived centuries-old recipes by translating ancient historical texts into tangible flavors, his towering stature in the field required no further explanation.
And now, a young master brewer running Songhadang with audacious ambition and uncanny talent had captured his complete attention.
'I haven't had the pleasure of tasting Dalvorde yet... My expectations are running high.'
"I'll escort you to the blind tasting room for the Korean Liquor Competition, Professor."
"Much appreciated."
Selected as a blind tasting judge for the very competition where Dalvorde was entered, Professor Jeong Manhu stepped out of the vehicle and walked inside.