Two Guests, Two Pieces of News (4)
"Whisky? You mean distilled spirits?"
"Aye, exactly. Distilled spirits. In other words, whisky."
Whisky.
A quintessential distilled liquor crafted by fermenting grains such as barley, corn, rye, and wheat, distilling the wash, and aging it in oak casks. Thanks to its deep amber hue and the intricate bouquet drawn from the wood, it carried the etymological heritage of aqua vitae—the water of life. An undeniably alluring spirit.
Put simply, if you ferment grain, distill it, and mature it in an oak cask, it is whisky. By that standard, even oak-aged soju falls technically under the category of grain whisky.
"It's not as if I haven't considered it," I replied.
Ever since taking the helm of Songhadang, I had held to a single, unwavering goal: to craft spirits worthy of representing Songhadang to the world. And I had never set arbitrary boundaries on what that meant.
After all, look at how vast the realm of alcohol truly was. Makgeolli, cheongju, soju, sake, baijiu, wine, beer, whisky, brandy... Given the chance, my ambition was to brew them all, imbuing each one with Songhadang's distinct identity.
"Oh! That's wonderful to hear!"
"Though I must ask... what made you bring up whisky so suddenly?"
"Because I'd like to work together, if you're willing."
"Pardon?"
Brook offered the proposition casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, leaving my mind momentarily stalled. I had to remind myself once more: Eddie Brook was a living legend, a master distiller whose mere name on a bottle commanded a staggering premium. For such a titan to propose a collaboration?
"May I ask what brought you to that decision?"
"Why else would a distiller say such a thing? Because I want to make good liquor, of course. Ha-ha!"
Chuckling heartily as if I had stated the obvious, Brook gazed out through the open door of the aging cellar. His eyes held an ocean of memories, a depth of experience so profound that words failed me. After a brief silence, he spoke again.
"You know I'm not affiliated with any particular distillery at the moment, yes?"
"Yes, I'm aware."
The industry called it Eddie Brook's retirement. While he traveled the globe sharing his wisdom with aspiring young distillers, he no longer oversaw the distillation process under his own name.
"Truth be told, I suppose I grew a bit weary."
"Weary...?"
"I've lived seventy-odd years and worked in distilleries since I was seventeen. It's only natural to feel tired after all that time, eh?"
Yet it couldn't have been merely a matter of time. If exhaustion were just about the physical toll, he never would have endured more than five decades of such grueling labor. But Brook did not elaborate. Instead, he simply watched the golden sunset settle over the mountains of Yeongwol.
"The scenery here is truly breathtaking."
"It's one of Songhadang's proudest treasures."
"Ha-ha! And well it should be! Working in a place like this, you get to witness such beauty every day."
In that brief exchange, an unspoken understanding passed between us.
"Come visit Scotland sometime soon," Brook said warmly.
"Even though you don't run a distillery there anymore?"
"Bwahaha! The lads running those distilleries today all learned the craft from me when they were knee-high! A polite word from me, and they'll give you the grand tour of every single one."
"Now that I am envious of."
Setting down his glass, Brook reached into his coat, pulled out a leather wallet, and handed me a card. I drew out a business card of my own, embossed with Songhadang's crest, and presented it in return. In my hand rested Eddie Brook's personal card—complete with a private phone number that anyone in the spirits world would have killed to possess.
"Give me a ring whenever you feel ready. I'll be waiting."
"I look forward to the day I can stand beside you as an equal, Master Brook."
"Ha-ha. I never thought having such a famous name would feel so inconvenient. Ha-ha-ha!"
Beaming with genuine amusement, he carefully tucked my card into his wallet. Then he picked up his empty glass and held it toward me.
"Would it be too much trouble to ask for one last pour of that final spirit—Hongya, the Red Night? In return, consider it a fair trade for a good piece of news."
"You didn't need an excuse; I would have gladly poured you another."
"Ah, but an old man needs his little pretexts to linger a bit longer."
The crimson liquid splashed softly into the glass. Holding it up, Brook admired the spirit as though it were a work of art, inhaling the bouquet with gentle deliberation before letting a modest sip roll over his tongue. Only after savoring the glass down to its final drop did he speak.
"You'll be hearing good news before long. You'd best get a tailored suit ready."
"Excuse me?"
"It hasn't been officially announced yet, so that's all I can say for now. Ha-ha. Though on a separate note..."
Perhaps conscious of the camera rolling nearby, Brook stepped in close and leaned toward my ear, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper.
"There has been some foul talk circulating recently."
"Foul talk...?"
"Precisely that. I'm a foreigner and don't know Korea intimately, but human nature is universal. People invariably envy and resent someone whose talents blossom too quickly. I've weathered the same storm myself."
Having delivered that chilling forewarning, Brook stepped back. His expression smoothed over into the same tranquil, genial smile he had worn before, as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said.
"Well then, I shall take my leave. And my invitation to Scotland stands—I mean every word. Ha-ha!"
With that, the whirlwind encounter with Eddie Brook drew to a close. And it didn't take long for me to discover the true meaning behind the two pieces of news he had left behind.
"That was really Mr. Brook? The Master Distiller? For real?!"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Aaaaargh! You should've told me! Why didn't you call me in?!"
Upon hearing that the foreign visitor from yesterday was none other than Eddie Brook, Se-jun clutched his hair and wailed in agonizing regret. And who could blame him? To any passionate lover of spirits, missing out on a once-in-a-lifetime audience with such a luminary right under your nose was pure torture.
"D-Don't tell me... You at least got his autograph, right?"
"Ah. Right. That."
"Hey! You didn't even get an autograph?! What the hell were you doing?!"
"What was I doing? Yeeun was busy filming the whole thing."
"Gaaah! That makes it even worse!"
Se-jun groaned in despair, looking ready to tear out every strand of hair on his head. But the surprises weren't over yet.
"Oh, and the Japanese gentleman with him was the critic Murata Naguchi."
"Whaaaat?!"
"He had to leave in a hurry, so I didn't get his autograph either."
Truth be told, an autograph had been the last thing on my mind, but watching Se-jun squirm was too entertaining to pass up.
"Aren't you... aren't you even a little disappointed?! Most people go their entire lives without meeting them once... and you didn't keep a single piece of proof?!"
"What do you mean, no proof? I told you, we caught the whole thing on video."
In fact, Yeeun had already finished editing the footage with infectious enthusiasm. We had wanted everything prepared so we could release it at the perfect moment to support Hongya's debut. The footage captured so much: Murata Naguchi and Eddie Brook marveling at Songhadang's panoramic grounds, and the looks of pure bliss spreading across their faces as they tasted the spirit.
Naturally, Naguchi's earlier harsh remarks had been trimmed out completely.
'I kept the raw footage just in case... though...' Yeeun had murmured timidly.
'Thank you, Yeeun. Good thinking.'
Keeping the archival record was wise. Petty though the man might seem, there was no telling how things might develop down the line.
"Once we upload the video, it should draw quite a bit of attention," I remarked.
"Juju Daily said they're ready to run Hongya promotions across their platform right on schedule!" Ha-jeong chimed in excitedly.
"That's perfect timing."
"Website and social media announcements are locked and ready to post too!"
"Great work, Yehyeon."
Thanks to everyone executing their respective roles flawlessly, preparations for Songhadang's latest release, Hongya, were proceeding without a hitch. Distribution and sales channels were no longer an issue—if anything, the demand was so overwhelming that I had fled to the aging cellar just to escape the incessantly ringing office phones.
<Complaining you're busy yet sneaking off here every chance you get—what kind of attitude is that? Hmph.>
<Surely a man deserves a moment's rest when working hard, doesn't he?>
Familiar dokkaebi banter drifted through the air around me. Shaking my head with a smile, I turned back to the others. "Actress Subin reached out as well. She asked if we could do another video collaboration for Hongya like we did last time."
"Ah! So that's why she messaged!"
During the promotional campaign for Dalvorde, we had filmed a collaborative YouTube shoot with her. At the time, she had asked us to contact her whenever a new spirit came out and exchanged numbers with me.
It wasn't that I had made an empty promise. I had simply been too overwhelmed with work. Between hosting a world-renowned master distiller and a prominent critic, everything else had slipped my mind.
"Boss, do you message Subin often?" Yehyeon asked, eyes wide.
"No, I just reply whenever she texts."
"Whoa... I'm so jealous..."
"She's a busy woman; I'm not sure why she's so persistent. Anyway, shall we grab lunch?"
"Oh, is it that time already?"
Our little enterprise tucked away in the mountains had few corporate perks to boast of. The least I could do was make sure everyone ate well.
"Is spicy stir-fried pork all right with everyone? Se-jun wouldn't stop raving about it, so I went ahead and ordered it."
"Ye-e-es! I eat anything!" Ha-jeong declared cheerfully.
True to her word, she hummed a little tune about pork as she skipped toward the office. I followed her inside, where Se-jun had already laid out the containers on the table.
"Yeon-woo! Ha-jeong! Hurry up! It's gonna get cold!"
"All right, coming!"
"Looks delicious! Thank you for the meal!"
The diner was one of the few precious establishments willing to deliver all the way out to Songhadang's secluded mountain valley in Yeongwol, and their spicy pork was nothing short of magnificent. I took a generous mouthful over a spoonful of rice, thoroughly convinced that Se-jun's praise had been well-earned, when he spoke up.
"Oh, Yeon-woo. Sorry to bring this up while you're eating, but it just came to mind and I figured I should mention it."
"No, go ahead. What's up?"
Se-jun shrugged casually as he continued.
"You remember Reporter Choi Yoon-sung, the one who wrote that wonderful interview article about us a while back? He reached out."
"Another interview? That'd be great for us."
"Well, that's the thing. I don't think that's what it's about..."
Chewing his food thoughtfully, Se-jun swallowed before looking straight at me.
"He said he needs to speak with you privately."