Brewery Diary: The Fermentation Meltdown
Date: July 25th
Weather: Damn, it's insanely hot.
Lady's Mood: 🫠 → 😩💨
– Big trouble.
– Delay in the brewery process.
– Ended up confessing everything to the Lady.
– Felt so guilty for letting her worry alone.
– Whoa, isn't this like catching a rat while the cow backs up? It resolved so simply? lol
Something felt off. Those two had no reason to be talking.
Why are they chatting?
I halted mid-step while switching guard duty with Rosie and approaching them. It was an awkward pairing, to say the least.
Not that the Lady finds it awkward.
Both of them had something to feel guilty about. Should I bolt?
...Nah.
That was a last resort. I'd get caught eventually and face the music. So, approach and make excuses?
No way.
I'd get the Lady's death glare and Elir's spirit magic. Worst-case scenario.
So instead...
"......"
I killed my presence and snuck behind the Lady, then cleared my throat from the rear.
"Ahem."
"Eek! You scared me!"
Ah, that's the stuff. Watching her jump in surprise melted away all my earlier worries.
Thwack- Wham!Smack!
"If you're here, make some noise before coming over!"
"Hahaha."
My shins are ironclad; the toe of her shoe is no match. After kicking up a storm, she finally huffed and puffed, worn out.
"Tch... My foot hurts now. Do it again and you're fired, fired!"
"Ehhh?!"
"What's with the 'ehhh'? I really thought my soul was leaving my body! I'm letting you off easy because it's you!"
"Yeeees...."
Sulky. But this body of mine? I've pulled pranks like this a time or two. Or a hundred.
The Lady would never fire me.
Call it a learned behavior. Heh heh.
"...Mi, Lady?"
Meanwhile, Elir, who'd been watching the spectacle up close, called out to her. She looked utterly baffled. The Lady had always maintained her ducal composure, no matter how much chaos she caused at home. But now? She was acting just like any twenty-year-old girl—complete with the deadpan stare on her face.
I grinned smugly at Elir.
All thanks to my good deeds.
"...Then I'll trust you and wait, Lady."
"Yeah. Sorry you spent so much time worrying—go get back to work."
The Lady saying that?
I gaped in shock, and Elir's sharp eyes went wide as saucers. Of course, the Lady's eyes narrowed sideways at me.
She was a pro at reading the room... sometimes.
"Not going? Got all the time in the world, huh?"
...There it is.
People don't change overnight, or they drop dead. Heh.
But the Lady already died once, right?
Has she changed? Hmm. Gotta test it later. Tracking pre- and post-reincarnation changes is prime guard knight duty.
"Mm-hmm."
I nodded to myself in satisfaction, only to feel stares like I was some weirdo.
"What's up with him today, Marie?"
"Maybe he skipped his meds, Lady."
"So he's always been a weirdo?"
"Yes."
The world is still too dull and pedantic to understand me.
"But where were you off to so early this morning?"
I beamed at the startled Lady. Her range of expressions is pure joy.
"The brewery. How far along is it?"
Oh.
Of all things.
That's why I'd been messing around to avoid mentioning it?
Fuck.
Can't swear in front of the Lady. Blood pounded from my heart to my head.
Gyaaaaah!
Elir caught the suspicious vibe and shot me a piercing glare.
I went to such lengths to avoid her...
"How far along is it?"
The Lady was starting to overlay her pre-regression self. I stammered.
"One key process hit a snag..."
"And?"
"...I don't even know when it'll be done..."
"......"
The Lady shut her mouth. Elir's eyes shook like there was an earthquake.
"...We'll be bankrupt until then, Lady."
Eh?
"Bankrupt?! Lady?!"
The lively morning vibe plunged into gloom like mud.
"So, what's the problem?"
Lucresia pinched her brow and sighed deeply. In her mind, the basic framework should've been done within a week.
"Was the extra manpower I sent not enough?"
The brewery construction had eaten up more labor than expected. Sure, Lucresia's eagerness to chow down sooner was part of it.
But not all. This makgeolli might solve the looming cash crunch.
One month from now.
That's when the duke's mansion would start folding small ventures one by one. Then it snowballed—until the engagement to the crown prince eased things.
Suspicious timing, but whatever.
This peace wouldn't last.
"Haa..."
Guess I need another plan.
But time was the issue. Lucresia sighed like the ground might cave in.
"Haaa..."
"......"
Rio side-eyed her with guilt. He'd been hit by the cash woes before too, but peace had made him forget. Leaving her to fret alone after returning together? Stung his conscience.
He decided to come clean.
"We have manpower to spare. The facilities are all built."
"Then? Is that one step that hard?"
"Yes. It's basically the start and end of makgeolli."
Lucresia's eyes trembled with worry and doubt. She had her own concerns.
"I'll explain in detail once we're there."
Rio hated burdening his lady.
That's why I shuttled to experts for advice.
They didn't grasp makgeolli brewing. Didn't even try.
Like their eyes said, "Why use mold?"
Back to square one—small-batch only.
"......"
"......"
Silence. Not a word on the way to the brewery. Even chatty Rio, who could float like a log, stayed mum.
"We're here."
A short walk later, the group entered. Eyes widened at the gleaming machines, whirring blades— a finished facility to them.
"What more needs doing?"
Rio pondered. All booze needs fermentation, but makgeolli especially relies on mold. Microbes break down organics into beneficial stuff.
...How to explain?
Even modern folks freak at "mold." In a medieval romance fantasy?
No way they'd get it.
......
But then.
"This is the fermentation process, right?"
"...!"
Rio whipped around, eyes bulging at Elir.
"How did you know?!"
"...A recent paper by a scientist studying wine spoilage."
Historical! Saved from pedantic lectures.
Thanks, nameless scientist!
"That speeds things up."
"Perhaps...?"
"Yes. These machines handle primary fermentation, but one issue."
"What?"
"See for yourself."
Rio fired up the machines.
Whoosh- Powder and water rained down with a clatter.
Whirr- Blades churned it into dough, which Rio scooped into a mortar-and-pestle setup.
Thud- The pestle pressed it into pizza-dough rounds.
"Looks fine?"
"Forming it was easy."
Throw bodies at it.
Real issue next. Rio carried a dough to the outdoor wooden drying room—humid and warm inside.
Rows of wooden shelves stuffed with straw covers. More doughs already there.
"Leave it here a day for initial fermentation."
"Then what's the problem?!"
Lucresia's face was erupting.
Time's ticking...!
Not a bottleneck explanation—just loafing with dough?
Hwa-byeong incoming...!
"Urk-"
She wailed. Rio sighed softly.
"The dough rots in this step."
"Isn't rotting the point?"
"Slightly different. Skip details: ventilation's impossible to control."
Nu ruk needs 32-36°C for yellow koji mold. Constant temp/humidity like small batches? Sure.
But overlooked: molds generate heat when breeding.
What happens en masse? Overheating kills key microbes; some rot.
"One rots, they all do."
Rio's blind spot: mass production temp/ventilation.
Plus bankruptcy talk? His head was exploding.
"......"
Silence again.
Then Elir raised a hand, eyes thoughtful.
"Just fix temp and ventilation?"
"Yeah. Rest runs with minimal staff."
"...I can handle that."
Rio swore he saw a halo behind her head.
"Ma-magic tensity!"
"...?"