Lager Has Arrived!
The lager was ready. “So this is what you call beer?” Coriander took my soaring heart—already floating away on a cloud of pure bliss—and slammed it straight back to earth with a single blunt remark.
“It doesn’t really taste like beer, though…”
“Well, it’s a little different. This is lager, after all.”
“Lager?”
If you ask people what kind of alcohol they like, you’ll get all sorts of answers. “I love vodka, comrade!” “Nothing beats the clean finish of whiskey.” “Ever tried absinthe? Pour water over a sugar cube and it’s pure heaven!” But if you ask what kind of beer they like, you’ll almost always hear one of two things.
“I’m an ale person!”
“I’m a lager person!”
Someone might object, “There’s porter, stout, Belgian white, pilsner—beer has so many styles. How can you reduce it to just two?” To which I would reply: all those styles fall into one of those two categories. In truth, beer across every world can be divided into exactly two types—ale or lager.
And in this world, lager doesn’t exist yet.
That’s because traditional lagers require long fermentation at extremely low temperatures. Which means the only beer people here have ever tasted is ale. And not even particularly well-made ale—just the most basic stuff. So if I’ve managed to create a real lager in a place like this… I’m not exaggerating when I say I might get dragged off to some torture chamber and forced to brew beer for the rest of my life. That’s how addictive this stuff is.
Some people sneer that it’s flavorless and only good for quenching thirst, but there’s one simple reason lager dominates the modern world.
Refreshment.
That crisp, clean sensation and refreshing finish you don’t get from ale. Lager spread across modern society on the strength of that single quality alone. But what would happen if such a beer arrived in a medieval-level fantasy world? What kind of ripple effect would it cause among people who’ve only ever known ale?
The thought was honestly terrifying.
“Haa… Coriander… just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
I held out the beer mug in my trembling hands.
“I’ll let you have the very first sip of the beer I made… so please don’t start pestering me to brew more…”
My hands were shaking like leaves. I’d gone two whole years without tasting lager. Every cell in my body screamed at me to chug it in one glorious gulp. But if I started rambling on about how amazing it was, Coriander would probably snatch the mug and drain it herself. And if she got hooked and started threatening me for more… that future was too horrifying to contemplate.
That’s why I decided to sacrifice the first sip for an objective taste test. It would also count as payment for the cooling magic she’d cast for me.
“Sigh… Fine. But if it tastes bad, you’re dead.”
Coriander grumbled as she snatched the mug from my hand. And then…
What a weird guy.
That was my very first impression of him. The moment we met, he was just standing there blankly in the middle of the forest without any weapons. Then he asked if I was an elf, and when he saw Offut he asked if he was a dwarf. He even spouted that racist nonsense about how elves can only be archers… Well, that’s all ancient history now.
He claims he ran away from some backwater village that isn’t even on any map. For someone like that, he sure knows a suspicious amount about beer. He really is a strange one. And that opinion hasn’t changed even recently.
He suddenly shows up saying he’s made beer. Then he suddenly asks me to cast cooling magic. I know how passionate he is about the stuff, but I still can’t get used to these bizarre antics. Still… he’s not a bad guy. He wouldn’t offer me something weird to drink, right?
With that thought, I looked down at the mug in my hands. It was filled with a golden beer that looked slightly different from the usual kind. Even the aroma was a little off. Normally there should have been a faint fruity scent tickling my nose, but this one smelled strangely clean instead.
What is that smell? Is this actually some suspicious concoction?
I lifted my head and looked at Bel. He was staring back at me with eyes full of insane expectation. Yeah… it would be rude to refuse when he’s looking at me like that. It can’t be worse than dying, right?
Resigned, I closed my eyes tight and started chugging.
Gulp. Gulp.
I drank with more than a little skepticism. But the result was more than enough to shatter every doubt I had. It wasn’t just good—it was refreshing.
The first thing that hit my tongue was a rich, deep barley flavor. But it was completely different from the bread I usually ate. It was smoother and a little sweeter than bread, yet it didn’t linger too long, making it easy to drink. Right after that came a crisp bitterness. But it was different from the usual bitterness I knew from other beers. How should I put it… it felt more refreshing?
And then I realized something else. There was a subtle roughness hidden inside the beer. It was like the coarse texture you get when you chew food too quickly. Yet somehow it didn’t clash at all. Instead, paired with the smooth barley and the gentle bitterness that slid down the throat, it gave this brand-new flavor an unexpected depth.
Before I knew it, I had drained the entire mug.
When I inhaled to catch my breath, the lingering aroma and aftertaste rode the air back down my throat. That alone told me everything.
This was a beer that anyone would fall in love with.
The moment I realized it, I rushed over to Bel, grabbed him by the shoulders, and declared with absolute confidence:
“Give me more!”
Bel looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and understanding. Like he’d seen it coming. What a weird guy.
Just as I expected—actually, exactly as I expected.
The moment Coriander took one sip of the lager, she emptied the entire large mug in one go. Now she was even getting refills and drinking nonstop. Of course, I was drinking from a fresh mug too. I made the stuff—I should at least taste it, right?
With that thought, I took a careful sip.
Gulp.
It was refreshing from the very first drop. The deep barley flavor, the clean and crisp bitterness of the hops, and that signature rough texture unique to unfiltered lager. All of it came together in perfect harmony, and it was ice-cold on top of that. There was no greater paradise. To think I created something this delicious with my own ability… I take back every curse I hurled at the gods a few years ago.
Thank you, God! For giving me such an amazing power!
Anyway.
We were able to enjoy a wonderfully refreshing break together with the cold lager. That is, until Coriander suddenly spoke up.
“Hey, you could totally sell this.”
“Sell it?”
“Obviously! In my opinion, this is guaranteed to be a massive hit. If it doesn’t blow up, the world itself must be broken!”
Was it really that good?
After drinking the beer, I suddenly hit a moment of clarity. Until now I’d been riding an unfounded wave of confidence, thinking everyone would love it without question. But the truth is, even in the modern world, unfiltered lagers like this are the kind only a small group of enthusiasts or serious beer lovers seek out. The rough texture feels too different from the lagers most people are used to. And the fact that it’s a lager with a coarse mouthfeel makes it difficult for beginners.
Unlike overseas markets where craft beer is thriving and all kinds of lagers have been developed, back home the market is dominated by mass-produced lagers like KaX and HaXrt that focus purely on refreshment. It’s a slightly sad story for any true beer enthusiast.
Setting those thoughts aside, I used my newly refreshed brain—now fully charged with beer power—to run the numbers.
Cost of ingredients to make beer: 0 won
Cost of renting or buying brewing facilities: 0 won
Labor cost: none
…Huh? This is pure profit?
Production doesn’t cost anything, and even if it doesn’t catch on because of taste differences in this world… as long as I can sell it, I still come out ahead, right?
With that brilliant realization, I kicked my brain into 100% overdrive. Where would be the best place to sell it so the rumor would spread fast?
But the answer was already obvious.
The moment I finished thinking, I stood up and called out to Coriander.
“Let’s go, Coriander!”
“Whoa! Suddenly? Where to?”
“Where else?”
I looked at her with sparkling eyes and declared:
“The tavern, of course!”
A short while later, at the tavern.
This was one of the places I visited often. Not necessarily to drink—I usually came here with the party to celebrate after finishing a big quest, or to gather information. Still, it was the largest tavern in the city and always had the most customers, so I figured it was the perfect spot to spread the word about my lager.
I went to the owner and asked for permission to offer free samples inside the shop. At first he firmly refused, saying he couldn’t let customers taste an unverified beer. But after taking one sip of the lager himself, he changed his tune and gave me permission to use a corner of the tavern for the day.
And so, I had secured the most reliable opportunity to spread the word about the very first lager ever made in this world.
But there was one problem.
I had zero experience working in a place like this.
What on earth was I supposed to do?