Echo (1)
Yes, this was it.
A crisp, delicate sensation.
A refreshing brightness swept across the palate, like striding through a lush mountain breeze. While clean and dry with scarcely any overt sweetness, a vibrant acidity anchored the entire profile, banishing monotony and breathing vitality into every drop. A faint, elegant bitterness followed in its wake, reigning in what might have otherwise been an overbearing tartness and granting profound depth to the finish.
While I stood lost in admiration, Sejun took another sip in stunned silence before crying out in sheer disbelief.
“Whoa! How is this... Wow! Did we seriously make this?”
I didn't need another sip to know. The aromatic spirits rising from the rim were already clasping hands, dancing in blissful harmony with bright, radiant smiles.
Yes, this was it. This was the Nokpaju perfected at Songhadang.
And yet...
“It falls just a little short.”
“What? This falls short?”
“Yeah. Something's missing.”
It tasted identical to the Nokpaju we had brewed before my regression. Anywhere else, people would laud it as an exceptional spirit. Even Grandfather would have patted my back in praise had he tasted it.
Yet, why did I feel this odd sense of lack?
Could it be... that my senses grew sharper?
I had always been confident in discerning flavors and scents compared to others. Picking up nuances that escaped ordinary palates had always come naturally to me. Now, however, it was different. It wasn't merely perceiving them with greater intensity—the subtle flaw was pronounced enough to grate on me.
Presumably, receiving the gift from Songha had heightened my palate and spiritual perception. If so, I would take it as an opportunity—a chance to brew an even finer spirit.
“Because it only paints a pure, pristine mountain, it feels somewhat barren. Hmm... how should I put it...”
A flawless, pristine mountain arose in the mind's eye, but with nothing there except the mountain itself—no blossoms, no trees—it felt jarringly bare, almost hollow. While the overarching direction was unmistakable, guaranteeing good flavor, it lacked its own distinct character. To put it another way, it was like a masterfully constructed house with underwhelming interior decor.
“Do you get what I mean?”
“Hnnngh... Hearing you put it that way, maybe so...” Sejun tilted his head, taking another thoughtful sip of the Nokpaju.
Though he couldn't quite grasp the microscopic nuance, he still pondered the problem earnestly alongside me.
“It is a fine brew indeed. And yet, hmmm...”
Songha manifested quietly beside us, stroking his chin.
“I, too, find it slightly wanting, you see. It reminds me of a lofty scholar without a single companion in the world... A mountain stands tall, yet does it not seem entirely bare?”
“A mountain stands tall... yet feels bare? Ah!”
The thought struck my mind like a lightning bolt. Before the spark of inspiration could slip away, I sprinted to the storeroom and gathered our ingredients.
“What's got into you all of a sudden? Did you figure something out?”
“A mountain! It was the mountain!”
I set the bundle down on the worktable. It was none other than pine needles.
“A mountain can't be without trees!”
I could see it clearly with my own eyes: the aroma blooming from the pine needles and the scent of Nokpaju reaching out toward each other, yearning to embrace.
“This was it.”
What belongs on a mountain? First would be the majestic swell of the earth rising high into the sky, its peaks brushing the clouds. Yet towering earth alone does not make a mountain. Only when trees take root upon it, and verdant grass glistens with morning dew, can it truly be called a mountain.
“Let's try using this.”
“This? Didn't we buy this to experiment with flavored spirits later?”
Normally, a brewery had no reason to keep pine needles on hand. But our goal was to craft a spirit unique to Songhadang. We had gathered various materials for all kinds of trials, and young pine needles were one of them.
“When we prepare the deotsul, we'll add a touch of these young pine needles into the brew. We'll slightly increase the ratio of water to rice, creating a lighter, silkier texture.”
“Hrm... I'm not really sure about this...”
“No, it will work. Without a doubt.”
Even now, the scent of the Nokpaju and the aroma of the pine needles were gazing tenderly at one another, hands clasped tight in anticipation.
Songha offered his own nod of approval.
“Planting trees upon a barren mountain, is it? A splendid idea, indeed.”
A month passed after applying the new method to the mash.
“Heh... this...”
“It worked! Yeonwoo! It worked!”
The refinement of this pine-infused Nokpaju, guaranteed by the dokkaebi of liquor himself, was utterly beyond imagination.
Sejun jumped up and down like an overjoyed child. Yet I stood frozen in sheer awe, unable to match his raucous excitement.
Little scent spirits adorned with wild blossoms and forest berries, draped in soft green leaves, strolled leisurely around the liquor. They took deep, refreshing breaths of crisp dawn mountain air, arm in arm, reveling in joyful play.
“Magnificent, truly.”
“Yes, it really is.”
“Huh? Right? Seriously, this is insane!”
Though I had answered Songha beside me, it was Sejun who eagerly took up the reply. Songha himself had already buried his nose right over the liquor as if ready to dive headfirst into the cup, sniffing away in ecstasy.
“Man, this is seriously incredible.”
Tossing out his favorite catchphrase over and over, Sejun savored sip after sip. Once he drained his glass, smacking his lips in regret that it was already gone, he turned to me.
“So, what are we calling this?”
“A name? Already?”
“This will sell, guaranteed. I mean it.”
I agreed with Sejun's conviction that it would sell, but naming it now felt premature. Releasing a commercial liquor required countless steps.
“A name, you say? Surely it must have 'mountain' in it, wouldn't you think?” Songha mused, tilting his head.
It seemed I was the only one urging caution. Beside us, the fairy-like scent spirits were drifting blissfully in the gentle breeze, beaming with radiant smiles.
Right, why overthink it? It was bound to be a success, so why not give it a bold name from the start? A fresh beginning right here—carrying forward the name Grandfather had kept, the very name used before regression.
“Let's stick with Meari.”
“The same name as before? But the taste changed, didn't it?”
“Yeah. Even with the change, it still evokes the mountain. An echo across the peaks. That's why it's Meari.”
“Oh! I like it!”
From there, things progressed rapidly. With two dream-filled youths put together, ideas poured out endlessly—from label design to production volume. Unexpectedly, Sejun was the most fired up.
“We definitely have to put your name on it.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Because you made it!”
“Come on, you made it with me.”
I waved my hands dismissively at the overwhelming suggestion to stamp my name on the label, but Sejun was relentless. To brew a spirit like this and keep the creator anonymous was downright rude, or so he claimed. Of course, other pressing matters demanded our attention.
“So, how do we sell it?”
“Leave that to me.” Sejun thumped his chest with a confident grin. “Registering it won't take long. Just focus on breaking into distribution channels. This will succeed no matter what. And...”
“And?”
“I think I can handle that part too. Trust me.”
A broad grin spread across Sejun's face. Well, if one couldn't trust their partner, who could they trust?
“Of course I trust you.”
“You'd better! Hehe.”
And so, Songhadang's first spirit—Nokpaju, 'Meari'—was born.
“Here, look. That's how you click.”
“I know how to click.”
“You've been acting like an old man lately, so I thought you didn't know.”
Sejun's big idea was registering our product on the Korea Post Online Shopping mall. Of course, Sejun hadn't set up the groundwork himself.
“Grandfather already handled all the paperwork for this, didn't he?”
“Well, yeah, that's true.” Sejun scratched his short-cropped hair sheepishly.
Listing products on the Postal e-Commerce platform typically involved strict screening procedures: preparing mandatory documentation, internal vetting, product catalog registration, and more. All of that was bypassed smoothly because Grandfather had registered Songhadang years prior.
“I didn't expect them to insist on a re-evaluation just because the flavor profile changed, though.”
“That's only natural. It's practically a whole new liquor.”
Because the brewing process and taste had changed, the platform administrators had required a second review. Fortunately, the reception was stellar, and it passed with flying colors.
“Still, how did you know they'd review it again, Yeonwoo?”
“Well... if the flavor changes, it's essentially a different drink, right?”
Flustered by Sejun's unexpectedly sharp question, I managed to brush it off smoothly. Sejun didn't dwell on it either, resting his chin in his hand as he stared at the screen.
“Still, nothing's selling yet.”
“Can't be helped. We're not known yet.”
That was expected. Even in Grandfather's day, sales barely peaked at around a hundred bottles during holiday rushes. For regular business, supplying a few local restaurants was about all he managed. Because of that, the money keeping Songhadang afloat right now came entirely from the hard-earned savings Sejun and I had scraped together.
“We need to broaden our sales channels.”
“Even more than this?”
“If we keep going like this, our bank balance is in serious trouble. You know that.”
Our bank account had already lost a digit; "trouble" was an understatement.
“True enough. Mmm... Still, I did hand out bottles to folks around here.”
“By 'around here,' you just mean the local elders, right?”
“I also dropped one off for the owners of the bars I used to frequent in Seoul. Just in case.”
“Hey, that was a good move.”
“Hmm. Wonder if there's any other way...”
Though Sejun had bragged earlier to just trust him, he clearly hadn't come up with a breakthrough. And that was only natural. How could a fledgling business take off effortlessly right out of the gate?
I, however, had lived through the next ten years.
“You submitted the application to Juju Daily, right?”
“Huh? Oh, submitted that right away. But will that amount to anything?”
Juju Daily.
By circumventing alcohol laws that mandated face-to-face sales through South Korea's very first Smart Order system, Juju Daily had cemented its dominance as a premier liquor platform. Though not a household name to the general public, among passionate connoisseurs and liquor enthusiasts, it was as renowned as any conglomerate. Even if that glory wouldn't last forever in the original timeline...
In any case.
“They don't really deal in traditional liquor, do they?”
“There's an angle to it. As long as you submitted it, that's what matters.”
Considering what happened in my past life, maintaining a favorable relationship with Juju Daily was vital. To be honest, we had gotten along well in the past too, but by then it had been a bit too late. If everything went according to plan, the response would be tremendous.
“So for now, let's just focus on brewing.”
“Got it.”
No matter how differently I planned to live this second life, honoring the integrity of the spirit came first.
Spotting stars in the night sky of Seoul was an arduous feat. Streetlights and neon signs blazed bright into the deepest hours of the night. Yet, even in such a restless city, there existed havens offering serene darkness: bars.
This particular establishment was renowned for curating its clientele, affording patrons an especially quiet, unhurried sanctuary.
Sitting at the counter, a man let out a long, weary sigh.
“Phew... That was an absolute waste of time...”
With a genial, robust frame and a heavy-set appearance, he looked like nothing more than an affable uncle. Yet anyone in the liquor distribution industry would recognize him instantly.
Yoon Juho, CEO of Juju Daily.
He shifted in his seat and muttered under his breath.
“How could anyone offer up such swill...?”
He had just returned from another brewery. He had assumed it was a friendly social gathering, only to find it was an ambush for business favors. The owner clearly believed that if Juju Daily—riding higher than anyone else in the market these days—took on their spirits, their fortunes would skyrocket.
Recalling the man's greasy smile as he brought out his bottle made Juho's face contort in disgust.
“It was downright foul.”
The moment a brewer compromised on quality just to cut costs, failure was already written in stone. The liquor had been soggy, murky, and choked with off-flavors. The sheer audacity to present that kind of slop and beg him to distribute it was shameless beyond belief.
“I need to rinse my palate. Barkeep, do you have anything good?”
“I hear you've been searching for traditional spirits lately, Mr. Yoon.”
“Haha! Word travels fast, doesn't it?”
“Naturally.”
The bartender replied while polishing a glass. Lately, it was an open secret among industry insiders: Yoon Juho, the head of Juju Daily, was on the hunt for exceptional traditional liquor.
“Could you recommend something worth drinking?”
“I do have one bottle. Though I suspect even you haven't tasted this one yet.”
“Me? Haven't tasted it?”
Who did he think he was? Yoon Juho, a man who would cross mountains for good liquor. A spirit that he hadn't tried?
As his curiosity flared, the bartender continued smoothly.
“A regular customer gave it to me, you see. I hadn't seen him around lately, and it turns out he's been brewing up in Yeongwol.”
“Yeongwol? Would that be Songhadang?”
“You know of it?”
“I was under the impression it shut down after the master brewer passed away.”
“His grandson inherited the craft, I was told. Here, give this a try.”
As they spoke, a glass was set down before him. Inside shimmered the clear spirit.
Even then, Juho held little expectation. At best, he simply hoped it would wash away the foul taste of the wretched swill he had endured earlier.
He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.
“Mmh!”
Before he knew it, the glass was bone dry.
“This... What is the name of this spirit?”
“I was told it's called Meari.”
“Meari...”
Juho quietly rolled the name of this newfound masterpiece on his tongue.