Echo (2)
“How is there not a single decent bottle in the entire batch?”
“Tell me about it.”
A chorus of weary sighs echoed through the offices of Juju Daily.
Sighs in a corporate office were hardly unusual, but for the two merchandisers sitting at their desks, the frustration ran far deeper than routine workplace fatigue.
“At this rate, we won’t even be able to get the project off the ground.”
“I know, right?”
Seokjun and Sohyeon, the platform’s lead merchandisers, slumped in their chairs, fanning their flushed faces with limp sheets of paper. Their task was to lay the very foundation for Juju Daily’s ambitious new service—which meant scouring the country to discover exceptional traditional Korean liquors.
“Still, who would’ve thought the pickings would be this slim?”
They had never expected an easy hunt. Korea possessed a wide variety of traditional spirits in name, but most were tenuous reconstructions whose continuous lineage had been broken long ago. It was the enduring legacy of the Japanese colonial occupation, during which traditional domestic breweries had been systematically suppressed and dismantled. When measured against the refined outputs of overseas distilleries and historic craft houses, the overall quality of modern commercial traditional liquor often fell short.
“How on earth are we supposed to break this to the CEO…?” Seokjun groaned, sinking back into his chair with another dejected sigh.
Long before joining the company, Seokjun and Sohyeon had traveled together day in and day out in pursuit of exceptional drinks. Their shared passion had eventually blossomed into romance and marriage, yet even after tying the knot, their obsession with fine alcohol remained unquenchable. Wanting not merely to enjoy great spirits but to share them with the wider public, they had walked away from secure corporate careers to become founding members of Juju Daily. Because of that devotion, this curated regional liquor project was their pride and joy—which made hitting a dead end all the more painful.
“Break what to me?” a booming voice chimed in.
“What else? That launching the service like this is going to be impossib—gasp! CEO Yoon!”
With a chaotic clatter of rolling chairs, the two sprang to their feet in shock. Standing right behind them with a paper shopping bag in hand was Yoon Juho, the founder and CEO of Juju Daily, whom they had assumed had clocked out hours ago.
“Working hard this late? When are you two planning on heading home?”
“Good grief, sir. How can we possibly clock out with things in this state?”
“Didn’t you hand us an impossible assignment to begin with?”
It was casual, candid workplace banter that bore little resemblance to the rigid hierarchy of a traditional Korean company. But this was precisely the culture Yoon Juho had fostered from day one. What was the point of drawing ranks among fellow booze lovers? Thanks to that egalitarian ethos, Juju Daily had integrated the genuine opinions of passionate connoisseurs to grow into the powerhouse it was today.
True to form, Juho listened intently to his team’s grievances.
“Is it really that barren?”
“You were tasting with us through lunch, sir, so you already know. There’s nothing out there. Absolutely nothing.”
“It’s not that there’s zero drinkable alcohol,” Sohyeon added, “but there’s no standout flagship. Nothing that delivers that electric, eye-opening spark.”
“I figured as much. That’s why I brought this.”
Thud.
Juho set his shopping bag firmly on the desk. When he reached inside and drew out a glass bottle, Seokjun and Sohyeon leaned in with curious eyes.
“Meari?”
“What is this?”
Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, Sohyeon peered closely at the bottle. Even as seasoned connoisseurs whose drinking experience extended far beyond their professional titles, neither of them had ever seen this label before. The design featured an elegant ink-wash mountain range rising gracefully beneath the brushstroke title Meari.
What on earth could it taste like? the two wondered.
If Yoon Juho—a man so enamored with alcohol that he had founded an entire company around it—had brought it personally, it had to be remarkable.
“Could we… try a pour?”
“I brought it for you to drink, didn’t I? Got any glasses?”
“Right here, sir.”
Measuring out precise servings with a jigger, Juho poured the clear spirit and handed the glasses across the desk.
“Take a sip. You’ll understand what I mean immediately.”
As if waiting for permission, Seokjun raised his glass to his nose first. A crisp, invigorating freshness blossomed through his senses.
Whoa. What is this…?
Why did the scent instantly call to mind the pure, unblemished air of a dense mountain forest he had once visited on retreat? What was more, the liquid was so impossibly crystalline that he could see his own reflection shimmering across its surface.
“Wait… how can it smell like this…?” Sohyeon gasped before the rim had even touched her lips.
In truth, she hadn’t even drawn a deliberate breath. The exclamation had slipped out naturally the moment she lifted the glass toward her face. That brief proximity was all it took; the refreshing fragrance rising from the spirit enveloped her entirely.
“It feels like standing in the middle of a deep forest. A pristine mountain, untouched by the world…”
“What kind of liquor is this?” Seokjun asked, wide-eyed.
“Meari. Have you ever heard of Nokpaju?”
“I have. Is this from Hamyang, then?”
“No. It’s from a place called Songhadang. Up in Yeongwol.”
At the unfamiliar name, the two tilted their heads in confusion, yet neither could pull their noses away from the glass. The spirit exuded an undeniable, magnetic pull. Watching his team with a satisfied grin, Juho continued.
“They’ve been brewing and selling Nokpaju for generations, but they were never widely known.”
“How could a liquor of this caliber remain unknown?”
“It wasn’t always this good.”
When Juho explained how a grandson had taken up the craft to honor his late grandfather’s legacy, Seokjun’s professional instincts immediately engaged.
“The narrative is fantastic.”
When bringing a product to market, quality was paramount, but a compelling narrative was nearly as vital. A consumer’s heart was moved by the history and emotional weight woven into a bottle. In that regard, Meari was primed for success.
“Still, the palate has to deliver,” Seokjun said. “If the taste is even half as good as the aroma, we have a winner.”
“Haha! Taste it first, talk later.”
Urged on by Juho’s brimming confidence, the two took a careful sip of Meari.
Or rather, that was what they intended to do.
“Huh? Where did the alcohol go?”
“Whoa… Wait. Wow, this is…”
Half as good as the aroma?
Both Seokjun and Sohyeon immediately wanted to erase their earlier words from existence. A vivid landscape unfurled across their minds: a vast, majestic mountain, lush and vibrant enough to embrace the entire world. A breathtaking peak, painted entirely in flavors and aromas, towered before their inner eyes.
“Well? Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Juho spoke with deep pride, but neither of them heard a word. They were entirely submerged in the shock of a sensory experience unlike anything they had encountered before.
How on earth… can alcohol taste like this…?
At this level, calling it mere flavor felt inadequate. It was as if the spirit embodied an entire living mountain and the pristine nature sheltered within it. Could a person truly be so overwhelmed by thirty milliliters of liquid?
I never would have believed it if I hadn’t tasted it myself.
Even the finest liquors were meant to elevate a drinker’s mood. But this spirit was different. It felt as though the liquor itself had reached out to embrace the drinker.
“What… what on earth is this?”
“I told you it was extraordinary. Did you think I brought it here for fun?”
“Good lord… this is… unbelievable…”
“Now, try this one.”
While the two were still struggling to gather their wits, Juho handed them a second glass. He had cracked open a bottle of sparkling water, poured it over ice, and mixed in a measure of Meari to create a highball. Using a traditional Korean clear liquor as the base for a highball was an unconventional approach, but neither hesitated to drink. Their first sip had already demolished any skepticism.
Their reaction to the highball was immediate and profound.
“Wait… how is this even possible?”
Rather than simple praise, the cocktail left them stranded in disbelief. The reason was obvious: while Juho was an avid connoisseur, he was not a trained bartender. Yet he had just produced a highball of astonishing quality.
Reading their faces, Juho smiled knowingly.
“The base spirit did all the heavy lifting.”
It was undeniably true. A traditional spirit that maintained its impeccable structural elegance regardless of how it was mixed was virtually unheard of. After staring blankly into their glasses for several long seconds, Seokjun and Sohyeon cried out in unison.
“CEO Yoon!”
“Yes?”
“We have to bring this in. We have to secure this product no matter what!”
Their voices blazed with fierce intensity. To an outsider, their zeal might have looked like madness, but to Juho, it was music to his ears. That had been his plan from the very start.
“Of course. We’re bringing them on board.”
Shortly thereafter, Sohyeon hurried to pull together the paperwork and review the informational materials sent over by Songhadang.
Meanwhile, in a shadowed corner of the office, an entry-level employee who had been quietly watching the entire exchange glanced around, slipped out into the corridor, and dialed a number.
“Hello? It’s me. Ah, yes, it’s a Nokpaju. Yes, sir. The product name is Meari. Yes. Songha? Ah… Songhadang was the brewery. Let’s make our move.” A pause followed, punctuated by a greasy chuckle. “Then I’ll be counting on you, Boss. Hehe.”
The gears of competition had already begun to turn.
“Yes, yes. Regarding that product, our current production volume is still quite limited… No, no, it’s just that… ah… yes, sir. Pardon? You’re coming here in person?”
Sejun’s eyes widened as he stammered into the landline receiver. It was an uncharacteristically flustered display, but over the last few days, it had become part of the daily routine at Songhadang. The phone had been ringing off the hook.
Under domestic liquor laws, standard alcoholic beverages were strictly limited to in-person transactions to protect public health and youth welfare. Even with recent legal reforms permitting smart-order pickups, having alcohol delivered directly to one’s doorstep remained prohibited for commercial liquor. However, because Meari was legally certified as a traditional regional liquor—a Nokpaju—it enjoyed an exemption allowing direct courier delivery.
Perhaps because word of that exemption had spread, individual purchase inquiries had exploded out of nowhere, culminating in the current frenzy.
“Ah… I see… Yes. We’ll make sure to have your order packed and waiting. Yes, thank you so much!”
Sejun hung up, wiping beads of cold sweat from his forehead.
“Another call?” I asked.
“Yeah. Haha! Didn’t I tell you it’d take off? Look at this!” Sejun broke into a broad grin. Supplying sample bottles of Meari to acquaintances at high-end cocktail bars and specialty tasting venues had clearly paid off.
“Personal networks really do make a difference,” I remarked.
“Of course they do. But if Meari weren’t extraordinary, they never would’ve reached out like this. Those owners take their alcohol deadly seriously.”
A bar was a refuge and a sanctuary. It was a space where weary people battered by the daily grind sought comfort and solace. The lighting was kept dim to soothe tired eyes, and heavy, insulated doors shielded patrons from the bustle of the outside world. No reputable bar proprietor would ever add a mediocre bottle to their backbar out of mere courtesy to an acquaintance. That was their professional pride.
“And yet they’re calling back to place personal orders on top of bar inventory,” Sejun said, shaking his head in wonder.
“A fine start, I must say,” Songha noted from beside me, his voice carrying the calm satisfaction of an elder gentleman.
Just as the dokkaebi said, it was an auspicious beginning. Almost on cue, as if refusing to grant Sejun even a moment of peace, the phone shrilled once more. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sejun picked up the receiver, recited his well-rehearsed script, and hung up after another long exchange.
“Whew. I’m happy, don’t get me wrong, but this is grueling work. What on earth is happening? Can passing out a few bottles to cocktail bars really trigger a craze like this? For real?”
It was a valid question.
Meari’s quality was beyond question—a dokkaebi of Songha’s stature had certified it himself—but explosive commercial popularity was rarely that simple. For any product to sell on this scale, artisanal craftsmanship was only half the battle; marketing was indispensable.
“And we haven’t even touched the ‘M’ in marketing yet…” I murmured.
“Is that not a blessing, my friend?” Songha chuckled, looking thoroughly relaxed as he savored the lingering aroma of Meari. “When a spirit tastes this magnificent, it is only natural that men should beat a path to your door. Ho-ho!”
“We need to understand the underlying cause so we know how to steer it,” I replied.
Strong retail interest was certainly welcome. Customers were already driving all the way out to Yeongwol in Gangwon Province just to buy bottles directly from the brewery door.
“Besides, there’s something else I’m expecting to happen.”
“Hmph. It sounds as though trouble brews.”
“In a way, it’s an opportunity. A chance to put someone in my debt.”
I recalled the sequence of corporate moves from my past life. If my memory served me correctly, this impending crisis would yield substantial leverage.
“Even so, this alone isn’t enough,” I said.
“My friend, your ambition knows no bounds.”
“It has to.”
There was an old adage that one could not get full on the first spoonful. But to me, this wasn’t my first taste of the trade. It was my second chance at life. Having poured every drop of brewing mastery accumulated across lifetimes into this vessel, all that remained was to present it to the world. A handful of scattered direct orders would not suffice; I needed a nationwide stage.
“Is that why you reached out to that merchant?” Songha asked.
“Exactly. Going by the timeline, he should be contacting us right about now.”
Ring-ring-ring!
Right on cue, the telephone chimed again. Sejun snatched up the receiver, exchanged a few hurried words, and suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Pardon?! Right now?! Yes, yes! Understood!”
He slammed down the receiver and stood frozen, his eyes wide and unblinking.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Well… the thing is…”
Sejun was so flabbergasted he couldn’t string a sentence together. As I waited for him to catch his breath, Songha suddenly jerked his fedora back and lifted his chin, sniffing the air.
“Something approaches, indeed. Ah… the unmistakable scent of a true tippler.”
I wasn’t sure what a tippler’s scent was supposed to smell like, but I knew instantly who had arrived.
“He’s here!” Sejun gasped.
“Calm down. Who’s here?”
“Them! Juju Daily! The smart-order liquor platform! They just pulled up outside!”
“What? They called to say they’re on their way?”
“No! Right now! In person! They’re already at the front gate! And the CEO came himself!”
“Right now? He drove all the way to Yeongwol without an appointment?”
“I’m telling you, he’s standing right outside!” Sejun was past his initial shock, his face flushed bright red with excitement. “He said he wants to tour our brewery before making a final decision! Yeonwoo, what do we do?!”