Chapter 9. The Guest of the Servants’ Quarters

Choi Eun-ja, 83 years old. The 25th head of Ihwado-ga.

One by one, details from Eun-ja’s profile surfaced in Gwon-ha’s mind as she slowly approached, leaning on her cane.

“There was quite a commotion, I hear.”

Though she was small and age had not spared her, her mere presence seized the atmosphere in an instant. In the wrinkled folds of her eyes, a sharp light gleamed with the weight of years.

What is this… She reminds me of my grandfather.

It wasn’t her appearance but the aura she gave off. The photo of the master brewer he had seen in the reports hadn’t captured even half of her presence.

“Grandma, this man is…”

With a small lift of her hand, Eun-ja silenced Do-ah. Her movements were unhurried but precise, filled with refined dignity and a gaze that carried unfathomable wisdom. She was not someone to be taken lightly. Gwon-ha suddenly felt like a helpless pup facing a tiger. Swallowing his thoughts, he stepped forward.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Kang Gwon-ha.”

“I’ve been watching you for some time.”

“Have you now. I doubt I made a good impression. My apologies.”

He answered smoothly without losing his composure. Eun-ja studied him for a moment, then asked:

“Have you ever brewed liquor before?”

“To be honest, not much. Practically a blank slate. That’s actually why I came to Ihwado-ga.”

His words were half true, half false. For some reason, lying in front of Eun-ja felt strangely difficult. Even if he tried, he had the sense she’d see through him right away.

“But I can assure you I learn faster than anyone.”

At this, her brows drew together ever so slightly. Did I say something wrong? he wondered, but chose not to add more. Eun-ja lowered her gaze thoughtfully, fingers tightening over the handle of her cane. After a long moment, she finally spoke.

“Give him a room in the servants’ quarters.”

Everyone was caught off guard. The most shocked of all was Do-ah. She had served Eun-ja closely for years and knew exactly how unprecedented this decision was. Eun-ja was far stricter when it came to letting people in than sending them out. Yet here she was, allowing a man who had only just arrived in Yehwa Village to stay inside Ihwado-ga. And during the critical brewing season for Cheondo Ihwaju, no less.

“Grandma!”

“There are strict rules in Ihwado-ga. You’ll hear the details from this girl.”

“Grandma, wait!”

Do-ah’s urgent voice didn’t stop her. Eun-ja simply turned away after leaving Gwon-ha with what sounded more like a warning than a request.

“From now on, you’ll follow this girl’s instructions to the letter.”

Do-ah trailed behind her, protesting all the way, but Eun-ja remained silent, eyes fixed forward. On the other side of the wall, Shin Dong-hun and the others wore puzzled expressions.

“Did the Master Brewer really just say to let that young man stay?”

“Looks like it.”

“I can’t believe what I just saw.”

And amid all the bewildered faces, the only one smiling was Gwon-ha.

* * *

That night, once the commotion died down, the serene old house came alive with the loud chorus of crickets. Gwon-ha pushed open the wooden lattice window covered in rice paper. The night breeze carried a sweet floral scent mixed with the faint sourness of fermenting yeast.

“Of course. Even the air here makes you drunk.”

He had been given one of the eight rooms in the servants’ quarters. Standing there with his eyes closed, breathing in that air, he felt… not bad. For someone as sensitive to smells as he was, that was rare. In the darkness behind his eyelids, the earlier scene replayed like an afterimage. The moment her face, delicate as a pear blossom, overlapped with Jihaeojang-gun came back to him vividly.

—Even if you offered all of Daeseong Brewing, you wouldn’t get a single step into Ihwado-ga.

Her unwavering spirit, the strength that filled her black eyes, and the fierce will blazing within them were etched clearly in his memory. And that split second when her hostility toward an enemy had softened upon turning toward him had sent a strange thrill down his spine. The images were carved vividly into his mind.

“Did I really get drunk off this?”

His thoughts stretched on until a sudden knock broke the silence.

Knock knock.

Shin Dong-hun must have returned to bring in the spare clothes from the car. The mundane sound shattered his reverie. Gwon-ha stayed still with his eyes closed.

“Step outside for a moment.”

Do-ah’s voice snapped his eyes open. He shot to his feet and strode toward the door. His hand paused on the round wooden handle. Why am I hesitating? Turning toward the mirror on the wall, he quickly checked his reflection. His smile faded when he saw his split lip. A bruise was spreading over his left cheek where the security team leader’s punch had landed. By tomorrow, it would turn bluish.

I look like a mess.

His perfectly styled hair was tousled, his clothes worse for wear. Still, he couldn’t not open the door. Part of him simply wanted to see her face again. That urge won.

The door creaked open and a faint scent hit him immediately, clean like soap or perhaps her own skin. It was so subtle only someone with his sharp sense of smell would have noticed.

“I thought you might need treatment.”

She stood there holding a household first aid kit, eyes fixed on his injured lip. He smiled politely and stepped aside.

“Come in.”

“No. It’s better if you come out.”

Her tone was firm. She wore a plain white chima over her clothes. At this hour, it would have been inappropriate for her to enter a man’s room, but the modest style of her outfit looked like something from a temple. There was nothing remotely seductive about it from head to toe.

“All right.”

But as soon as they sat side by side on the wooden porch, he had to take that back. His gaze caught a few stray strands of her hair clinging to the pale curve of her neck. The peaceful scene hit him like a jolt. Heat rushed through him unexpectedly.

What the hell is this now.

He frowned and crossed his legs, casually covering the part of his body that was reacting without permission. The sound of her opening and closing the box seemed unusually loud. She came all this way just to treat me? The thought made the corner of his mouth twitch. Maybe he should’ve let the punch land a little harder.

“Here’s antiseptic and ointment. This is a cold pack.”

…Ah. So she was just delivering the supplies.

He quickly drew back his face, pretending he hadn’t leaned forward expecting her to apply them. She handed the items over and continued speaking.

“I didn’t get to say this earlier. Thank you for your help.”

“I didn’t do it to be thanked.”

“Still, you got hurt.”

“Well… this doesn’t even count as an injury. Not compared to the guys I’ve hit.”

His cocky reply earned a quiet sigh from her before she continued in her brisk, no-nonsense tone.

“Wake-up is at 5 a.m. Lights out at 9:30 p.m. Meals are at 6 a.m., noon, and 5:30 p.m.”

“…”

“Someone in each section will assign you work. For tomorrow, be ready here by 5:30 a.m.”

Great. There’s a place stricter than the army.

Even in Seoul, he’d had less sleep than that, but it had never felt this suffocating. Maybe it was the psychological weight of being in such a closed-off place. He sighed heavily. Unfazed by his reaction, Do-ah kept going.

“No smoking, perfume, or other scented products. We can’t have anything interfering with the yeast. Wear something comfortable. If you don’t have any, there are work clothes here you can borrow.”

She packed the kit again after finishing her list of rules, ending with a note that the inner brewing area was strictly off limits.

Already leaving? He wanted to keep her there a little longer.

“How’s your ankle?”

His tone softened with concern, and she paused.

“The compress…”

His gaze lowered to her injured ankle. Strangely, the spot where his eyes rested seemed to ache more.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t just say you’re fine. I boxed for a while. If you ignore injuries like that, you’ll regret it.”

“…”

“Looks like you haven’t done anything for it.”

He reached out gently.

“Give me your ankle.”