A Sweet Palace, Dalvorde (4)
How could something like this even be possible?
Just how delicate, how painstakingly precise was the craftsmanship behind this spirit for it to evoke such an unmistakable, vivid image?
Taste? Aroma?
Such criteria seemed almost secondary. This amber nectar transcended the bounds of conventional critique; it was not an object to be analyzed, but a work of art meant purely to be experienced and admired.
“How can it possibly taste like this? From the nose to the palate, and straight through to the finish—it’s absolutely magnificent!”
“I... I have never heard of a Korean liquor like this in my entire life!”
Manhu could do nothing but pour out words of breathless praise, while Naguchi, seemingly driven out of his mind with shock, kept burying his nose in his glass and shouting in Japanese. Both of them clearly recognized the truth: the sheer, undeniable value of what they held in their hands.
It was Manhu who pulled himself from his reverie first.
“A perfect score from me. If anyone refuses to give this spirit full marks, they’ve either lost their palate or lost their mind.”
“I second that completely! This spirit will mark a defining milestone in my entire career as a critic! I’m practically dying to write my review right this second!”
With two out of the three judges already declaring perfect scores, Brooke was no different.
“I concur. I was so engrossed in tasting it that I momentarily forgot I was supposed to be judging.”
“Truly! It was downright heartbreaking that there was only a single glass to go around.”
Just as he said, Brooke thought, having only one glass is an absolute crime.
Normally, packing such an immense spectrum of flavor into a spirit requires a high alcohol content. It is a matter of chemical fact that the esters responsible for aroma and taste require sufficient ethanol to dissolve and hold them. What was more, its thick legs clung to the glass far more viscously than those of other aged spirits, making that assumption seem all the more certain. Yet this drink defied common sense entirely.
How on earth is this possible?
A multitude of disparate flavors and aromatics coexisted in seamless harmony. Depths richer than anything Brooke had encountered even in sixty-percent-ABV cask-strength drams played relentlessly across his nose and tongue. And yet, the perceived alcohol content hovered at a modest eighteen percent or so. Despite the storm of taste and scent crashing over the senses, there was not a single discordant note; everything marched steadily in a unified direction.
Sweet. Sweet, and sweet again.
It was honey; it was crystalline sugar; it was thick, decadent jam; and it was rich, nutty pastry cream. The lingering finish nestled between his teeth and gums, coating every millimeter of his tongue, was still singing that very refrain.
And yet, it isn't cloying or heavy in the slightest. This is truly...
Once more, the harsh burn of alcohol was virtually absent. And Brooke already knew of one other spirit that could captivate a person purely through scent and taste, conjuring vivid illusions before their eyes.
It is just like Meari: Autumn.
It was a tremendous stroke of fortune.
It seems the list of places I must visit has grown...
Songhadang, the Korean brewery that had crafted the aged masterpiece Meari: Autumn. And now, whichever mysterious sanctuary had produced this unnamed triumph.
My schedule may be tight, but I have to make time no matter what. I must meet the artisan behind this spirit and speak with them.
Brooke felt certain that the masters of both breweries would be peerless craftsmen possessing profound brewing philosophies. That conviction, however, underwent a swift transformation the moment the evaluation concluded and the identity of the entry was finally unveiled.
“Are you certain? This aged spirit... Dalvorde, was made by Songhadang as well?”
That settled it beyond all shadow of a doubt. Even if vanishingly rare, one could perhaps dismiss a single miraculous bottle as a stroke of sheer luck. But when that excellence extended to multiple spirits—spirits with entirely distinct characters and brewing profiles—could anyone still dare to call it a fluke?
Not a chance.
The artisan of Songhadang had to be an unmatched master whom no ordinary brewer could touch. Brooke made up his mind then and there. It was no longer a question of merely squeezing out spare time; he would cancel other engagements if necessary to guarantee a return trip to Korea.
They mentioned there are still more stages of evaluation remaining.
From what he understood, the Korean Traditional Liquor Competition underwent a surprisingly rigorous vetting process. Beyond the current sensory evaluation conducted by invited experts, there would also be blind tastings with general consumers.
Even so, the outcome is already decided.
Anyone who enjoyed a good drink—no, anyone possessing a functioning tongue—would inevitably realize it. They could not fail to see that this was leagues beyond mere run-of-the-mill, pleasant alcohol.
“That's impossible! It's a lie! How could Chosenjin make a spirit like this?! It has to be a brewery run by a Japanese master in Korea!”
Meanwhile, Naguchi was still struggling to accept reality, spouting absurdities about the very spirit he had just awarded a perfect score. Yet his denial did nothing to alter the truth—especially not when, even as he spewed insults, his tongue was darting out to lick up every stray droplet of Dalvorde remaining on his lips.
When did they say the final results would be announced? November, was it?
By that time, a crisp chill would be settling over Korea. Wondering what kind of spirit Songhadang would be brewing when that season arrived, Brooke smiled quietly to himself.
When it comes to brewing spirits, the single greatest ingredient is time. Some might say it demands dedication and relentless effort, but in the end, liquor is time itself. Paradoxically, this is why brewers often seem to age all too quickly. While waiting on their brew, brewers spend countless quiet seasons simply watching the years pass by.
“It's already November.”
Half a year had slipped away in the blink of an eye. The sweltering days spent fretting over spoiled fermentations in the oppressive summer heat were long gone. Now, the season had turned, bringing the opposite worry: that painstakingly brewed batches might stall because of the biting cold.
“Brrr. It's getting chilly.”
In the flowerbeds tucked to one side of Songhadang, blossoms of every color had shed their petals against the creeping frost, leaving only bare branches and dormant roots behind. Come early spring, they would slowly push out tender buds once more and reveal their full glory to the world.
“Winter’s creeping in, sure enough.”
“It really is. Time flies,” I replied, sitting in the pavilion and watching the dry branches sway in the wind. A full year had flashed past before I even realized it. “Doesn't feel like I've accomplished much, though.”
“What d'you mean you haven't accomplished much?” Moktong grumbled. “Where under the sun are you gonna find another craftsman who can brew spirits that drive a dokkaebi wild like this? Have some pride in yourself, you rascal.”
It wasn't that I hadn't worked hard in this life. Unlike the past, where I had toiled blindly knowing nothing, my prior knowledge afforded me a measure of composure this time around.
“It's just that I actually know what I'm doing now,” I said.
Things were different. The memories of my past life illuminated the path before me, clearly pointing out the roads to survival and the pitfalls leading to ruin. Along that path, the threads of fate connecting me to so many wonderful people had multiplied as well.
“You have your mortal companions, to be sure, but do not forget us either, my friend,” Songha chimed in with a gentle chuckle.
“Of course not.”
Without Songha and Moktong's guidance, I would likely still be sweating bullets, walking a razor's edge between success and failure.
“Shall we head back in, then?”
“Is there something special on the docket today?” Songha asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, but keeping an eye on things is always the first rule.”
I lingered in the brief lull for a moment longer, preparing to finish up the day's tasks.
Just then, the twin siblings came running toward me from afar, bright smiles plastered across their faces. The two had become bona fide members of the Songhadang family. Having diligently learned the craft from Se-jun and me, they could now manage the brewery reasonably well even if left on their own. What was more, working alongside Ha-jeong had helped them discover their own hidden talents.
“Turns out they both have a real knack for managing YouTube and our website,” I remarked.
To be precise, the older brother, Yehyeon, had a talent for software and digital platforms, while his sister, Yeeun, possessed a sharp eye for photography and videography. Once we recognized that, we shifted their responsibilities to overseeing our official website, YouTube channel, and social media feeds.
“I did notice their faces looking brighter of late,” Songha observed.
“When people have talent and actually enjoy what they do, it makes all the difference.”
Perhaps thanks to that synergy, Songhadang's YouTube channel had surged past thirty thousand subscribers, while posts uploaded to our website and various social media accounts consistently racked up impressive view counts. Naturally, that translated directly into soaring sales.
“We might need to hire even more staff soon.”
“More than you already have?”
“There are so many spirits I want to brew, but there's only one of me.”
Though we had expanded our maturation cellar and hired new hands just six months ago, our workforce still couldn't keep pace with the ever-mounting demand.
“For now, I'll finish this current batch before giving it more thought.”
“Mm. A wise notion. Moktong has been eagerly looking forward to it as well.”
“Boss! Boss!”
The twins came skidding to a halt before me, pausing to catch their breath.
“Catch your breath, I'm not going anywhere.”
“Haha! I know! Whew... but we wanted to tell you right away!” Yehyeon beamed.
“...We really did...” Yeeun added softly.
“What's happened?”
“The aging in the very last onggi is complete! Just as you predicted, the acidity has stabilized, and the ABV reached the exact level you specified!”
“The clarity and color... are just perfect... we checked...”
The breathing onggi pots, which Grandfather Gyeongsik had poured his heart and soul into crafting, were filled to the brim with Hongya—our aged iyangju slated for release right after Dalvorde. With this, even the final pot had crossed the finish line of maturation.
Then there was only one thing to do: see it for myself.
“Let's head over right away.”
“The others are waiting too! I'm so excited!” Yehyeon cheered.
“...Me too...”
In my past life, Hongya—meaning 'Red Night'—had been a whisky that rescued Songhadang from financial ruin time and time again. Now, I stood before that cherished spirit once more, reborn.
Given how remarkably fast it had matured, Moktong had undoubtedly been drinking his fair share from the jars to speed the angels' share along. Sure enough, before we even reached the cellar, his voice was the first to greet me.
“*Ahem!* I only drank a wee bit extra so the liquor'd turn out proper good!”
“Moktong... wasn't it simply because you fancied a drink yourself?” Songha teased.
“Tsk! Six of one, half a dozen of the other!”
“Oh! Yeonwoo, you're here?”
“Boss! We tasted a drop among ourselves, and it's seriously incredible!” Ha-jeong exclaimed.
“Really? That good?”
“Yeah! It's out of this world!”
If Se-jun and Ha-jeong were raving this much, my curiosity couldn't help but flare up. I quickened my pace toward the cellar and pushed open the heavy door.
Creak—!
Though the cellar had grown considerably larger after its expansion, I could pinpoint Hongya's location at a single glance. Even from across the room, I could see the visual spirits of its aroma dancing in the air.
“Over here! Over here!”
“Right, let's go.”
The closer I followed Se-jun, the deeper and richer the aroma became.
The first spirits to catch my eye were clothed in brilliant crimson robes. Elegantly draped in exquisite hanbok, their captivating, alluring expressions made it feel as though I had stepped into a clandestine nocturnal festival. Lining up as if guiding me into some secret sanctuary, the aromatic figures paved the way.
And at the end of that path sat the onggi jars.
“Have a sip first!”
Se-jun deftly lifted the lid of an onggi and poured a dram.
The moment the glass was in my hand, the full vision crystallized before my eyes. A grand banquet hall woven from toasted sugar was overflowing with jewel-toned dried fruits. Weaving among them, the scents of red berries performed an enchanting dance. A subtle earthy whisper and the rich, savory grain essence distinctive to iyangju melded seamlessly with them, while warm spices played the melody.
“There's a delicate trace of baking spices, too.”
“Yeah. Aging it in onggi finished with traditional wood-ash glaze brings out that exact character.”
The visual spectacle of the aroma carried straight over into the revelation of the first sip. The intense, weighty burst of dried fruit coating my mouth bore a striking resemblance to Tamdhu, the renowned Speyside single malt. The notes of rich raisins and deep, unctuous sweetness were an uncanny match.
Yet Hongya's flavor profile was far from finished there.
“This is...”