Two New Encounters (Part 1)
The chill in the air had deepened into the biting freeze of full-blown winter. It had been barely three months since we signed our contract with Juju Daily, yet in that short span, Songhadang had undergone a staggering transformation—so much so that it was hard to believe only three months had passed.
"Over here! Back it up this way!"
Vehicles crowded the yard in numbers that were getting difficult to manage. Every single one had arrived to haul away shipments of Meari.
"Phew. This is completely insane."
A groan escaped my lips as I wiped the sweat from my brow. The response to Meari on Juju Daily had been nothing short of explosive. The initial batch of five hundred bottles had sold out almost immediately, and we had been scrambling to fulfill one additional rush order after another.
And that was not all.
"The Post Office Mall won't stop calling either..."
Perhaps because Juju Daily had posted a sold-out notice, eager buyers had swarmed the Post Office online marketplace instead. Compared to the past, when we were lucky to sell a hundred bottles even by riding the coattails of the holiday rush, the difference was night and day.
"Add in all the private wholesalers reaching out directly..."
Expanding our facilities had clearly been the right call. Had we not upgraded when we did, there would have been no way to handle this sheer volume. I couldn't begin to count how hard we had worked to push this much output through a small craft brewery like Songhadang. The dark circles carved deep beneath both Sejun's eyes and mine were proof enough.
"Are you two truly holding up all right, my friends?"
"We're fine... We'll be fine... probably?"
"Dear me... look at you. Shouldn't you take some rest? Even a dokkaebi pauses to catch his breath... How can a creature of mortal flesh abuse his body so recklessly?"
When Songha, standing at my side, was worried enough to lecture me like this, that was saying something.
Yet I couldn't bring myself to stop. Settling for what we had achieved was out of the question. My mission was to craft spirits unique to Songhadang, to brew the finest liquor in existence. To save the dokkaebi across the country—and eventually across the world—I had to grow the business as well. So, carving out precious minutes wherever I could, I threw myself into constant research.
Through trial after trial, I explored diverse profiles of flavor and aroma. The gift Songha had bestowed on me spared us a great deal of blind groping, but even so, failures were inevitable.
"It was a shame to throw away yesterday's batch," Songha murmured.
"It was dreadful, though."
"That it was... but still, it held all that honest labor of yours."
Only yesterday, I had dumped several experimental casks down the drain. I hadn't even needed to open them to know. Through my sight, the aromas sprawled inside had looked like wretched zombies flailing about, limp and hideous.
Songha had said as much:
"This is... not liquor, my friend... Nor does it show any promise of becoming one."
When Sejun and I tasted it just to be certain, the verdict was undeniable. It truly wasn't liquor. It was merely a foul liquid capable of intoxicating someone, falling dismally short in both nose and palate.
"If only Old Man Moktong were here..." Songha sighed softly.
"Old Man Moktong?"
"Mmm... The aging cellar where you keep your barrels and jars—that cellar is Old Man Moktong. Normally, only a single dokkaebi resides in any given brewery, but quite a few once made their home here."
Songha reminisced, gazing into the distance. It seemed the aging cellar itself had gained spirit and become this 'Old Man Moktong.'
"What about him?" I asked.
"The old codger has an uncanny palate for spirits. Not only that, he could coax out flavors far beyond ordinary reach. Mind you, he lived with his head buried in the jars. He drank so much I feared the cellar would run dry."
"Ah... the angel's share..."
"You humans call it that, do you? Every last drop of it was that old man guzzling away."
Because oak casks and onggi breathe as spirits age, significant evaporation occurs over time. This lost volume is commonly referred to as the angel's share.
Around here, maybe we should call it the dokkaebi tax instead.
Still, I could understand why he drank so much. Evaporation typically spikes under hot and humid conditions; in Korea, where swings in temperature and humidity are drastic, spirits age at an incomparable pace, but the evaporation rate is correspondingly staggering. In my past life, that had been a proven reality.
"A shame, in any case," Songha murmured.
"It's all part of the process."
While Songha and I chatted, Sejun came trudging over, having finally finished confirming the freight pickups and tallying the delivery manifests. His very first words were...
"I'm gonna die."
"Good work out there."
It was no exaggeration to say that if you had to name the busiest person at Songhadang, it was undoubtedly Sejun. Beyond keeping tabs on our general business operations, he scouted ingredients with me, played a pivotal part in the recent facility expansion, and was now even screening applicants to handle our ballooning workload. Small wonder he groaned like that.
"Boss, bump my pay up again."
"I'd love to, believe me."
"Aigoo..."
Snaps and pops cracked from Sejun's joints every time he stretched. I had already raised his pay to match his grueling efforts, but another hike simply wasn't realistic right now. Meari was selling briskly, but our margins weren't maximized yet. While our operating profits blew my past life out of the water, every single won was being poured straight back into reinvestment.
"By the way... are you seriously thinking about farming our own rice down the line?"
"Yeah. Aren't you curious what Meari would taste like brewed from Songhadang's very own harvest?"
"And after distilling, you're planning to use oak barrels too?"
"I'm considering Mongolian oak or oriental white oak. Honestly, if possible, I want to experiment with every native Korean oak species."
"At this point, you're an absolute pervert."
Sejun squinted at me. Fair enough. Given Songhadang's current scale, my plans sounded borderline delusional—the stuff of wild pipe dreams. Still, I had my counterargument ready.
"You went even further yesterday. You're the one who insisted we test every level of barrel charring and seasoning."
"Hey, I own it! I'm a liquor-crazed pervert and proud of it! Bwahaha!"
"Good grief."
Laughing heartily, Sejun waved a hand and walked off, mentioning he was going to review the new job applications.
"Quite an intriguing fellow, that friend of yours," Songha remarked.
"He's a great friend, though."
"That much is plain as day. Good people seem naturally drawn to your side, my friend. That bibulous merchant included."
"The bibulous merchant... Ah, you mean CEO Yoon Juho?"
"Indeed. It seems fortune smiled upon him recently, did it not?"
I had heard that Juju Daily recently carried out an internal personnel shake-up. Taking my earlier warning to heart, CEO Yoon had returned to his headquarters and initiated an immediate internal audit. As a result, they caught the mole leaking confidential company data and upcoming business strategies. Though the employee turned out to be a mere pawn—leaving the ultimate destination of the leaks unresolved—Juju Daily could breathe easy for the time being.
"Seeing you thrive alongside your friends warms my heart," Songha said.
"We're just getting started. There's still a long way to go."
"Mmm, quite so. And there are joyous things to look forward to, so strive on you must."
"Pardon? What do you mean by that?"
Songha tipped the brim of his fedora with a knowing grin. When I pressed him on his cryptic words, he merely offered an evasive chuckle.
"You shall see soon enough. Heh heh."
With that, Songha faded away like mist.
As I tilted my head, puzzled by his riddle, I spotted Sejun sprinting back across the yard. Why was he running toward me when he had just gone to check the resumes?
"Yeonwoo! *Pant, pant!*"
"What? What's going on?"
"The cellar... something's wrong with the aging cellar!"
The words hit like a bolt from the blue. My knees nearly buckled, and I had to brace myself from tumbling over. Maturation is the very stage that coaxes Nokpaju's aroma and flavor to their absolute peak. And the aging cellar is what makes that maturation possible. If something had gone wrong there, it meant our hard-earned batches of young Nokpaju—not to mention our experimental brews—could be ruined.
Just as my vision was going dizzy, Sejun caught his breath and added, "It didn't collapse or anything! It's just... bizarre."
His expression was deeply bewildered, as though the structure itself were intact, but something unnerving had unsettled him to the bone.
"So what on earth happened?"
"Uh... promise you won't call me an idiot?"
"Why would I call you an idiot? Just spit it out."
"I think... there's a ghost in the cellar."
"What?"
Sejun looked deadly serious as he dropped that absurdity. A ghost? Out of nowhere? My dumbfounded expression must have given me away, because Sejun balled his fists and shouted, "Look at that face! I knew you'd look at me like that!"
"Ah, sorry. I don't think you're an idiot, I was just caught completely off guard."
"That's basically the same thing!"
"I'm sorry. Just explain it in detail, will you?"
"Well... you see..."
Scratching his head, Sejun began to explain. Apparently, he hadn't jumped to the ghost conclusion right away. At first, he merely felt an icy prickle on the back of his neck whenever he stepped into the cellar, making his hair stand on end. He had thought maybe a stray cat had slipped inside, and he had even patrolled the perimeter for a few days.
"You should've told me..."
"I thought I was just imagining things."
"Right... so what changed?"
"Just now... I saw it... It's definitely a ghost."
Before reviewing the resumes, he had stopped by the cellar to check on the storage conditions. That was when a sudden flash lit up behind his back. When he whipped around in shock, a pale blue flame was hovering in midair. Struck dumb with terror, he couldn't even scream before the flame dissolved into thin air, as if it had never existed.
"Is our brewery... haunted?"
"Ah..."
"Seriously?! Man, I'm terrified of ghosts! Should we hang up a portrait of Bodhidharma or something? A shaman—should we call a shaman?!"
"Calm down. I'll go check it out myself."
I managed to soothe Sejun, who was practically jumping out of his skin about hiring a shaman for an exorcism ritual. If my hunch was correct, calling a shaman wouldn't do a lick of good anyway.
Phew... here goes.
It had to be a dokkaebi. What Sejun saw was almost certainly dokkaebibul—goblin fire. It matched the folklore descriptions down to the letter.
I hurried toward the aging cellar. Just as I reached out to pull the door open—
Creeeeeaaak—
"Huh?"
The door swung open on its own, like an automatic door greeting a guest. It was as if whoever was inside were holding it open for me. Steadying my nerves, I took a cautious step over the threshold.
"Bah! Tsk, tsk! You useless whelps! While this old man was asleep, this is all you managed to get done?!"
A crusty, cantankerous elder's voice barked from deep within the shadows. The sheer absurdity of it deflated my tension on the spot. But just as my steps faltered, the door slammed shut behind me with a loud BANG.
I was trapped alone inside the dim cellar. And through it all, the old man kept up his furious grumbling.
"Hah?! And what in blazes is this?! Brewing alcohol like common street scoundrels! Bah! I won’t live out my natural days at this rate! Argh, my chest boils! With such rot festering inside my belly, how could it not boil?! Rot take it all!"
"E-Excuse me..."
"Excuse me, my foot! You stay right where you are, you rascal! To think things would turn into such an unholy mess just because I was away for a spell!"
Inspecting the onggi jars was an elderly man wearing a traditional horsehair gat and white hanbok. Though his face was deeply wrinkled and his spine was bent with age, he roared with the booming lungs of a brass horn.
"What is all this rubbish?! Has that brat Songha been slacking off and playing around the whole time?!"
"Um... elder?"
"I told you to wait right there! Hmph! And what's this one now?"
Looking ready to curse a blue streak until sundown, the old man suddenly shuffled over to the next jar. Then, his scowl melted into an unexpected, beaming grin.
"Oho... Now look at this fellow. Truly a luscious sight!"
"Excuse me..."
"Let's have a taste, shall we...?"
Paying no heed to my words, the old man plunged his hand straight into the onggi jar where Meari was quietly aging. When he drew it back out, our freshly brewed spirit sloshed inside his cupped, calloused, wrinkled palm. Without a second thought, he slurped it down in one gulp, smacking his lips with relish.
"Kee-yah! Splendid! A bit sweet, but that's easily balanced by blending! Now then, let's see..."
"Elder!"
"Aigoo! You'll burst my eardrums! Didn't I tell you to hold your horses?! I haven't finished tasting it yet! Now, just one more sip..."
"Dear me... I knew you would be up to this..."
Behind the old man—who was already dipping his hand back toward the jar—Songha materialized out of nowhere. Hands tucked into his suit pockets, he let out a long sigh and tapped the old man's shoulder.
"I say, old friend."
"What now?! I told you to wai—Songha? Is that really you, Songha?! Bah! I have a whole mountain of bones to pick with you!"
"We can discuss that later. More importantly, our drinking companion has arrived. Surely you don't intend to ignore him?"
"Ahem... cough, cough..."
Rebuked by Songha, the old man cleared his throat repeatedly. Yet even then, he refused to spill the spirit cupped in his hand; watching him, I couldn't help wondering if he was an incurable alcoholic. Sure enough, he slurped down the liquor in his palm, clapped his hands together, and puffed out his chest.
"Right! Allow me to introduce myself! As for my name... what was it again?"
"You're Elder Moktong, aren't you?"
"Eh?! How do you know my name? Hey! Songha! You blabbed, didn't you?!"
"Have some dignity, Moktong. I am the one dying of embarrassment just watching you."
Songha pulled his fedora down over his face in mortification, while Moktong plopped onto the floor and cackled with hearty laughter. Where on earth had he been hiding until now? Songha had distinctly told me that all the other dokkaebi were locked in deep slumber.
When I voiced my question, Songha answered:
"Did you not brew a worthy spirit, my friend?"
"A worthy spirit?"
"Ayup! That stuff, what was it—Meari! Aye, that scent was so mighty tempting it woke me right up! But the rest of this lot... Bah! Let me just have one more sip first..."
"Restrain yourself, you old rascal! In any event, if you continue to brew exceptional spirits, more of our kin will awaken one by one—provided the taste suits their fancy. The timing could not be better."
Songha caught Moktong's arm, cutting off his shameless attempt to plunge his hand into the onggi yet again. Did that mean more dokkaebi like this would keep waking up in the future? Still, what did Songha mean by 'the timing could not be better'?
"What do you mean, good timing?"
"Did I not mention it earlier? Old Man Moktong knows the soul of aging spirits better than anyone, and he has a wondrous gift for elevating them."
"That's me, alright!"
Somehow slipping past Songha's guard, Moktong snatched another palmful of aging Meari and slurped it down. If he kept drinking like that, there wouldn't be anything left to bottle...
Regardless of my concern, Moktong pointed toward a row of onggi jars.
"First off, those over yonder are passable. Heh heh. From here to there, the flavor is right fine. Since I had a few sips, they'll have matured even better by now."
"Excuse me? What do you mean by—"
Before I could wrap my head around his words, Moktong scowled and pointed toward the jars lining the opposite wall.
"And from that one over there to the end."
He grimaced as if he couldn't even stand the sight of them.
"It's all pure filth, so throw it out!"