Sweet Palace, Dalvorde (2)
"It's already so hot outside."
"Well, it's July now—it would be strange if it weren't! Haha."
Time had flown by with astonishing speed. It felt like only yesterday that snow was blanketing the streets in January, but already half the year had slipped away, giving way to the lush, verdant green of midsummer.
Inside a government-affiliated research institution, the sensory evaluation phase of the Korean Liquor Competition was underway. Jeong Manhu had no idea what this facility normally operated as; though he had served on the expert judging panel for the competition several times, the organizers seemed to rotate the venue every single year.
Even so, one thing remained consistent across every competition.
"Stark white, through and through."
"We selected this hall specifically to guarantee an objective, impartial evaluation."
"Oh, I am well aware."
Manhu smiled warmly as he nodded to the attendant guiding him. The obsessive, clinical white covering every wall, ceiling, and floor was entirely for the sake of the liquor. Ambient lighting, colored wallpaper, and floor reflections could easily skew a judge's perception of a drink's true hue and clarity. By that same principle, the indoor temperature and humidity were strictly regulated down to the decimal point to ensure the spirits' delicate aromatics never wavered.
"Right this way, please. The other judges are waiting in this lounge."
"Thank you for showing me the way. Haha."
As the attendant pushed open the door, Manhu stepped into a lounge where several figures sat chatting casually in small clusters. Among them were more than a few familiar faces.
"Oh! You're here too?"
"Haha! Well, look who it is! Professor Jeong Manhu!"
"Come now, my friend. Forget the 'Professor'—just call me Manhu, like we always do."
The bald gentleman shaking his hand was a professor teaching culinary arts at a hotel school. Glancing around the room, Manhu noted that none of the figures gathered here were lightweights: celebrated sommeliers, renowned academics, sharp-tongued liquor critics, and master distillers from prominent breweries filled the seats. The sensory evaluation was the stage where esteemed experts meticulously dissected each entry's flavor, aroma, color, and mouthfeel. Naturally, the panel was packed with the foremost authorities in the industry.
Yet among them sat someone Manhu had never dreamed of encountering here.
"Wait... Could it be?!"
Sitting quietly in a far corner, absorbed in a book behind wire-rimmed spectacles, was an older gentleman. With his silver hair swept cleanly back and an immaculate tailored suit draped over his broad frame, he looked like a figure straight out of a classic film. Despite the heavy passage of years, his commanding presence seemed nearly twice the size of anyone else in the room. But it was not mere celebrity that sent Manhu practically jogging across the lounge.
"Arthur Brook!"
"Oh. That would be my name, indeed."
At the sound of his name, the man closed his book, pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, and offered a genial smile.
Arthur Brook. A legendary master distiller hailing from Scotland. Not only had he blended world-famous whiskies with his own hands, but he now traveled from distillery to distillery across the globe, imparting his hard-won expertise and providing bespoke consulting—a living legend and universal mentor to the modern whisky world. His renown and craft were so revered that collectors routinely emptied their life savings just to acquire vintage bottlings bearing his signature. No matter that Manhu held a prestigious professorship at Hankuk University; he could not help but feel starstruck.
What was more...
"I tried to pay my respects before, but I was told you had already departed the country. You have no idea how disappointed I was."
"Haha. Come now, Manhu. You know what keeps me busy these days."
"Traveling through emerging spirits regions to impart your distillation knowledge? Of course I know. I know, but..."
"It's merely an old man indulging his selfish whims as a hobby. You needn't worry so much on my account, haha."
"It is only natural for a student to worry about his master."
"Master? Nonsense. We are simply colleagues walking the very same path."
Manhu was indeed one of the many who had studied under Brook. If Manhu had made a name for himself in Korea as a pioneering traditional liquor sommelier, it was thanks in large part to the rigorous sensory evaluation techniques Brook had taught him. With such profound personal gratitude, Manhu could not help his concern. Brook, however, merely let out a hearty belly laugh.
"I never heard where your travels were taking you, but to think you were coming all the way to Korea!"
"Haha! Surprise! Were you caught off guard? Then my little scheme worked. Truth be told, I've harbored a quiet curiosity about Korean traditional spirits for quite some time. I've also been watching your country try its hand at craft whisky. Though, well... as far as the whisky goes..."
"I take it you weren't particularly impressed?"
Reading the subtle shade of hesitation on Brook's face, Manhu ventured a guess. He hit the mark. Brook was not belittling the passion or drive of the ambitious young distillers who had thrown themselves into the craft; they simply lacked time.
Whisky, far more than almost any other spirit, demanded patience. And that did not refer solely to maturation in oak casks. To craft an exceptional dram, a distillery needed the accumulated wisdom forged across generations of trial and error. Korea was the greenest of novices, having only just dipped its toes into the distillation waters. To expect a world-class single malt so early in the game was premature by any standard.
"Still, who knows what the future holds? Just look at Kavalan, after all."
Established in 2005, Taiwan's Kavalan Distillery had stunned the world when its Solist Vinho Barrique, crafted under the guidance of Master Distiller Ian Chang, took home the coveted World's Best Single Malt at the World Whiskies Awards. Brook believed that while it might be elusive today, the day would come when Korea produced such a masterpiece. Whisky required time—both to craft and to ripen.
"Be that as it may, you could have at least given me a heads-up that you were coming!"
"Now, now, one shouldn't go announcing their presence beforehand when they've been invited as a competition judge."
Manhu nodded in agreement. He was well aware that as globalizing traditional Korean liquor and securing international export competitiveness had become central themes in recent years, the competition's judging panel had broadened considerably. Over the past few years, overseas spirits critics, master sommeliers, veteran distillers, and even international liquor buyers had increasingly graced the tasting tables.
"Still, I was under the impression you disliked these commercial gatherings, Arthur. You famously refused every invitation from the SFWSC..."
The San Francisco World Spirits Competition. Alongside the UK's IWSC and Belgium's Monde Selection, it stood as one of the world's premier liquor competitions—and in the realm of distilled spirits, its scale and credibility were undisputed. Securing a double gold medal there was the ultimate dream for distilleries across the globe.
"That I did."
Given his monumental legacy, the SFWSC organizers had practically begged Brook year after year to join their panel and lend them his prestige. Yet every time, his answer had been a polite but resolute refusal. His reasoning was simple:
Truly great spirits find their own acclaim naturally—that is far more precious.
It stemmed from a purist philosophy that few modern commercial minds could grasp. In truth, he looked askance at many self-proclaimed 'authoritative' spirits competitions.
"Haha. Even an old dog can change his mind on occasion."
"Arthur Brook changing his mind? Dare I ask what brought about such a miracle?"
"What else could sway a bibulous old soul like me, haha?"
"Don't tell me..."
"I crossed paths with a spirit I had never known existed."
It had all come down to a single glass. Before embarking on his tour of traditional Korean breweries and attending the Korean Liquor Competition, Brook had dropped by the home of a young acquaintance he had bonded with years ago. To be frank, part of his motivation for flying to Korea had been genuine concern for that young man. Seeing the fellow paralyzed by the crushing pressure to deliver results—unable to tap into his true potential—had reminded Brook all too vividly of his own youth.
Yet the young artist he met was completely revitalized. As though he had shaken off every fetter that once bound him, a fiery blaze of creative zeal burned brightly in his eyes. And to welcome Brook, the young man had poured him a single dram.
"At first, I thought he was terribly stingy. Offering me only one glass!"
"And then?"
"And then I realized why he guarded it so jealously."
The moment the liquid touched his tongue, Brook's razor-sharp senses told him everything. A gin aged in virgin oak, yet preserving the crisp vibrancy of young botanicals and the rich, mellow sweetness of ripe fruit. It held a nutty warmth beneath its surface, paired with a refreshing, bitter clarity that left the palate utterly spotless. Yet in that instant, Brook's analytical mind refused to parse the notes. Instead, one overwhelming thought seized him:
This is autumn in a glass.
By the time he came to his senses, he had drained every last drop of his young artist friend's prized possession. Leaving behind his companion, who was practically weeping tears of mingled sorrow and rage over his empty bottle, Brook had hastily inspected the label to discover where this miraculous spirit had originated.
"Have you ever heard of a place called 'The House Beneath the Pines'? That friend of mine mentioned that is what the name signifies."
"'The House Beneath the Pines'... Wait, do you mean Songhadang?!"
"Yes! That was the name!"
Songhadang. A spirit born from a fledgling Korean craft brewery. It defied all reason. How could a brand-new artisanal house craft an aged spirit possessing such immediate clarity yet profound depth of flavor and aroma? Brook had yearned to visit the brewery on the spot, but his tight schedule leading up to the Korean Liquor Competition had prevented the detour.
"And so, I made my decision. This old man belatedly realized that the world is far broader than he ever imagined, haha."
Incredible though it seemed, how could he deny what his own senses had verified? Without him even knowing, a fledgling micro-distillery had somehow distilled the very essence of autumn. If so, what was to say there weren't other hidden gems waiting out there? The mere thought had left him unable to focus on anything else. A single glass of autumn had moved the heart of a master.
"Perhaps it sounds preposterous that such a drink compelled me to accept a seat on this judging panel, haha!"
"Not at all. I don't think it's strange in the slightest."
"Oh?"
Manhu, who had worn a baffled expression only moments before, was now nodding in complete understanding. Brook raised an intrigued eyebrow at the sudden shift.
"You don't think it's odd?"
"Not one bit. Had it been any other brewery, perhaps. But if it's Songhadang, I understand completely. And judging from your description of autumn, you must have tasted Meari: Autumn."
"Oh, indeed! That was the name! Meari... Echo. Truly, what a magnificent name, wouldn't you say?"
Even as the two shared their conversation, the lounge continued to fill. Judges arrived not only from across Korea, but from every corner of the globe. Greetings and lighthearted banter rippled across the room as old acquaintances caught up, yet none of the figures present were ordinary men and women.
"They claim this is Korea's premier spirits competition, and looking at this room, the caliber of judges certainly reflects it."
"Haha, you flatter us. I knew the organizers were making strides toward internationalization, but even I didn't realize the lineup would be quite this formidable."
Inside the main tasting hall, where tables were arranged to seat three judges each, titans and rising stars of the global beverage world took their designated places. On one side sat master distillers courted by prestigious distilleries worldwide; on the other sat heavyweight international distributors and critics.
"It seems this is our table."
"It's an honor to share a table with you, Arthur, haha."
"The pleasure is mine, Manhu. But wait..."
The jovial atmosphere evaporated in an instant. Manhu's smile froze as his gaze landed on the man seated right beside them.
"Well, well. Look who we have here. If it isn't Master Arthur?"
"Haha... I certainly did not expect to find you here, Murata Naguchi."
And that sudden chill was not confined to Manhu alone. A bitter, frosty grimace settled across Arthur Brook's weathered face as well.