Chapter 3. A Certain Coincidence or…

Kang Gwon-ha stepped out of the car and took a slow look around the village.

The barley fields painted in vibrant green swayed with a sweeping sound as the wind passed through.

The vast paddies were busy with rice-planting preparations.

Small slate-roofed houses rose at regular intervals.

Wide orchards covered in fully bloomed white pear blossoms filled his view one after another.

It was quiet and serene…

“Exactly what you’d expect from a countryside backwater.”

The scenery was the complete opposite of the fast-paced city.

For someone who thrived on speed, it was mind-numbingly dull.

He frowned at the village signboard standing next to Jihaeojang-gun, the wooden guardian statue.

Damn Yehwa Village.

Truly damn Yehwa Village.

“Ihwado-ga is located eight hundred meters from here, Director.”

Shin Dong-hun approached just then, slipping into his usual navigation voice to provide information that no one asked for.

Gwon-ha turned his head.

Shin, seemingly delighted by the rural scenery he hadn’t seen in a long time, stretched his arms and breathed in the fresh air with a soft smile on his face.

His eyes spun as he turned around, then froze when they landed on Gwon-ha’s sharp, intimidating expression.

Flustered, he quickly straightened his posture and lowered his head.

“S-sorry, sir.”

“No, nothing to be sorry for.”

Gwon-ha was smiling, but Shin knew better than anyone what that smile meant, and he flinched.

“As long as someone’s happy, even if I’m screwed, that’s fine, isn’t it?”

He pulled out a cigarette and placed a long one between his lips.

Shin rushed over and lit it in one go, then stepped back. His face had stiffened completely, a stark contrast to just moments before.

Gwon-ha blew out smoke and lightly tapped Shin’s shoulder a few times as if to tell him to relax.

“Phew. What about Aunt and Uncle?”

“They’ve already been here.”

Of course they had.

There was no way they’d miss the perfect opportunity to swallow up Daeseong whole.

Gwon-ha inhaled deeply, his cheeks hollowing.

He thought about their personalities. There was no way they’d stick to the chairman’s “within bounds” rule.

“As far as I found out, Ihwado-ga tried every form of persuasion and intimidation over the course of three days. When the chairman found out, he scolded them harshly and warned them never to go near the place again.”

Gwon-ha bit down on the filter tip and let out a short laugh.

Uncannily precise, as always.

It was so predictable it was almost funny.

How they managed to run businesses with those brains, he’d never know.

Ah, right. They devoured their companies, that’s how.

Still chuckling, he rubbed his brow slowly.

“They must be extremely wary of outsiders.”

“Most likely. Especially since it’s the brewing season for Cheondo Ihwaju.”

“Hmm…”

A frown formed as he sank deeper into thought.

Even in his disoriented state on the way here, he had been preparing his plan carefully.

Plan B had been made the moment he heard that ridiculous condition, and Plan C during the drive here.

Finding solutions in despair was something he constantly drilled into his marketing team.

He was, after all, the head of marketing planning at Daeseong Brewing. This level of difficulty was nothing.

His eyes shifted in an instant.

To catch a tiger, first…

“Let’s take a walk around the village.”

…you scout around the den.

* * *

Choi Eun-ja’s face looked tired as she stepped out of the inner brewing hall.

She had spent several days shut inside, producing five hundred bottles’ worth of Cheondo Ihwaju, so it was no wonder she looked exhausted.

Only a few years ago, she could handle the work with ease, but now it was becoming a strain.

She couldn’t even move around without her cane.

‘How much longer can I keep this hidden…’

Her sigh, heavy with worry, mingled with the sour scent of nuruk yeast clinging to her body and dissipated into the air.

“Grandma, are you alright?”

Joo Do-ah rushed over to her, having waited outside the inner brewing hall.

The hem of her modified hanbok skirt fluttered as she ran.

Eun-ja thought about how much she’d grown.

The baby who had once cried at the village entrance wrapped in swaddling cloth had become a fine young woman.

It wasn’t surprising, given the years that had passed, but the thought of her granddaughter, abandoned twice, always ached.

First by her birth parents.

Then by Eun-ja’s own daughter and son-in-law.

Her daughter and son-in-law, who had suffered from infertility, had agreed to register Do-ah under their family and raise her like their own child.

Eun-ja had persuaded them, but they had also adored the baby with the bright smile.

In those two years, Do-ah had become fully part of Ihwado-ga.

But when her daughter miraculously conceived and gave birth to her biological daughter, everything changed.

The smiles faded from the once-lively child’s face.

Eventually, the couple even talked about giving her up.

Eun-ja had driven them out and raised Do-ah herself.

“Grandma, you don’t look well.”

She had ended up resembling this blunt old woman.

Her gaze, her expression, her personality, even the habit of wearing the same old-fashioned hanbok.

‘It’s time to pass it on.’

She had never considered her vain daughter or her younger granddaughter Yeon-ah as successors to Ihwado-ga.

Even if she gave it to them, they couldn’t handle it.

She hated how every time they visited from Seoul, they talked about turning the place into a winery.

“Do-ah, I need you to go to the jar storage. Bring back twenty medium bottles for the Cheondo Ihwaju.”

The jar storage was where they kept the traditional clay jars used for fermentation.

These jars were crucial for aging the liquor, and the Bang family, known as potters for generations, had always made them.

“And stop by the Bangs’ place to pick up what I asked for.”

The Bang family were also considered part of Ihwado-ga.

They had passed down their craft for generations.

Now, the twenty-first-generation Mr. Bang and his son, who had just turned twenty, were continuing the trade.

“What you asked for?”

“Just say that and they’ll give it to you.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

She answered, but didn’t let go of her grandmother’s arm.

Eun-ja took a few more steps, then stared at her granddaughter’s face.

“Why aren’t you going?”

“I’ll go only as far as the main hall.”

“Hurry along.”

She waved her pale hand coldly.

Do-ah was used to this, but in moments like this, her face always reverted to that of a little girl.

She looked lost, like a child who had just lost her parents.

The veins on the spotted back of Eun-ja’s hand stood out as she gripped her cane.

“Come straight to the inner hall when you get back.”

“…”

“We need to prepare the gumu-tteok starting tomorrow.”

Eun-ja turned away briskly.

Do-ah remained frozen in place.

“Gumu-tteok…”

Gumu-tteok was a type of ring-shaped rice cake, the main ingredient used in brewing Cheondo Ihwaju.

It was the most important ingredient, and Eun-ja had always made it herself.

By mentioning it and calling Do-ah into the inner hall, she was acknowledging her as her successor.

“Grandma…”

Raw emotions surfaced on Do-ah’s usually expressionless face.

Her large eyes filled with transparent tears that looked ready to spill at any moment.

No matter how many times people in Yehwa Village had told her, she never truly believed she’d be acknowledged as the heir.

According to the matrilineal tradition of Ihwado-ga, the rightful successor should have been Kim Yi-hwa, Eun-ja’s daughter.

But that woman… she had never felt like a mother.

—You’re not my daughter. You were a foundling, Do-ah.
—Because of you, Yeon-ah has to share Grandma’s love?! Go die somewhere!
—Don’t even dream of being the successor. It’s either me or Yeon-ah.

The invisible blades of those words had left wounds that never fully healed.

Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to hate her completely.

If it hadn’t been for Eun-ja, she would have been cast out with nowhere to go.

Her blind trust in Eun-ja had been forged on the edge of a cliff.

“Grandma, I’ll… I’ll work really hard.”

Do-ah wiped her tears and forced her face back into its usual blankness.

She had to finish the errand first.

She pulled out her old bicycle, the one she used to get around Yehwa Village.

Clack, clack.

She pedaled with determination and entered the road lined with pear blossoms.

She was in such a hurry that her foot kept slipping off the pedals.

Just as she passed the orchard entrance, a sudden shadow leapt out from between the trees.

“Whoa, watch out!”

Startled, Do-ah lost her balance and fell to the side.

Thud. She slid helplessly across the dirt.

Her calf-length hanbok couldn’t protect her from the scratches.

Her palms and legs burned from the scrapes, and the phone someone had been holding fell to the ground with a clatter.

‘Who was that just now?’

As she thought about it, the late afternoon sunlight broke through the clouds and poured down slowly.

The pear blossom trees, shedding their petals one by one, caught the light and glimmered brilliantly.

Her vision blurred for a moment.

When she managed to focus, she saw a man.

“…”

A man with striking features.

Wearing an expensive suit that you’d never see in Yehwa Village.