“Five hundred nyang... Five hundred nyang...”
Chilbok looked as though he had not slept a wink all night.
He hugged the chest of silver coins from Pine House as though it were a pillow and stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes.
“Big Brother, this isn’t a dream, is it? Please pinch my cheek.”
“Enough already. You’re wearing out my ears.”
I scolded him while folding the blankets.
Five hundred nyang.
It was certainly a fortune. In rice, it amounted to one hundred and twenty-five seok—one hundred and twenty-five rice sacks. It was enough for a commoner family to eat and live comfortably for twenty years.
But by my standards, I had only just recovered my initial investment.
“Chilbok, hide that money deep in the warehouse. And write it in the ledger. It’s construction money for the second brewery.”
“What? A second brewery? Isn’t the one we built in the annex enough?”
Chilbok sprang to his feet.
“It isn’t. The women worked all night to make two hundred bottles last time. There’s a limit to doing things by guesswork.”
Manager Park of Pine House had said he would buy everything we could produce.
If the nobles of Gaegyeong found a liquor delicious, they would gladly pay extra to drink it. Demand was exploding. If supply could not keep up, we would lose the opportunity.
“From now on, this is no longer household handiwork. It’s a manufactory.”
“A manu... what?”
“Factory-based handicraft production. In other words, we’re building a brewery that runs on a system.”
I went outside.
The dawn air was quite chilly. My breath scattered white before me.
Winter was right around the corner.
“Master Carpenter Gong!”
“Yes, Sir. You’re up.”
Master Carpenter Gong was already outside, sharpening the blade of his plane.
He had been in high spirits lately. He absorbed the new construction techniques I taught him like a sponge and could feel his own skills improving by the day.
“What are we building today? Another house?”
“It is a building, but we’ll be installing something special.”
I pointed toward the newly dug well that tapped the bedrock spring.
“We’re constructing a water-supply system.”
“A water-supply system?”
“Yes. Right now, the women have to haul water in jars. Do you know how exhausting that is? It ruins their backs.”
Water was what liquor brewing required most.
Water for washing rice, water for steaming firm steamed rice, water for mixing the liquor, water for cleaning.
To brew one mal of liquor, five mal of water were needed.
Hauling all that by hand not only slowed production, but exhausted the workers.
“We’ll connect the well to the brewery with a water line.”
“By digging a canal? Dirt will get into it.”
“No. We’ll use pipes.”
I pointed to the thick bamboo stacked behind the warehouse.
They were the leftovers from building the oil-paper greenhouses.
“We’ll hollow out the bamboo and connect it together.”
The work began.
Manseok and the strongest laborers took charge of hollowing out the bamboo.
They heated long iron rods in the fire, then thrust them through the bamboo nodes.
Hissss—
White smoke rose as the bamboo was hollowed through.
“How will we join the sections?”
Master Carpenter Gong asked.
“We’ll carve male and female ends into the bamboo, fit them together, then wrap the joints in resin and hemp cloth to waterproof them. Not a single drop can leak.”
We installed bamboo piping for roughly fifty meters, from the well to the brewery annex.
After digging the ground and burying the pipes, we covered them with soil to keep them from freezing.
Then came the most important matter: power.
There was no modern electric pump, so we had to use nature’s strength.
“The well is higher than the brewery. We can use the difference in elevation.”
Installing a huge water tank at the well and filling it with bucket after bucket would have been too primitive.
I called Manseok over.
“Manseok, can you draw water with a bucket all day?”
“Come on, Big Brother. Look at these arms. That would be easy.”
“Good. But you shouldn’t have to wear yourself out either, so we’ll build a large treadle water-lifter.”
We installed a large treadle water-lifter based on the principle of the lever.
Every time Manseok pressed down, a barrel’s worth of water poured into the tank.
From the tank, the water traveled through the bamboo pipes and flowed down to the brewery by gravity.
Inside the brewery, I stood before a huge wooden vat. At the end of the bamboo pipe was a wooden valve.
“Alright, let’s turn it on!”
I twisted the valve.
Rumble...
I could feel the vibration of water flowing through the pipes.
Whoooosh!
Clear bedrock spring water poured from the bamboo spout like a waterfall.
It was a vigorous, refreshing stream.
“Waaaaah!”
The women watching nearby cried out in amazement.
“Good heavens! The water’s walking here on its own!”
“So we don’t have to carry water jars anymore?”
“The Young Master really must have goblin magic!”
The women did not know what to do with themselves for joy.
Being freed from the labor of hauling water was nothing less than a revolution for them.
“This isn’t the end.”
I pointed to the brewery floor.
“Master Carpenter Gong, you checked the drainage slope, right?”
“Yes. It slopes gently toward the entrance.”
“And the drain?”
“I buried ceramic pipes and ran them outside.”
I scooped up water with a ladle and splashed it across the floor.
Instead of pooling, it glided smoothly across the slate slabs and vanished into the drain.
“Perfect.”
The foundation of a food factory was easy water cleaning.
If alcohol lees or Great Peace Fermentation Starter powder remained on the floor, mold would grow. If that got into the liquor, it would turn sour and become vinegar.
Now, we could clean the entire floor whenever we wanted by simply opening the valve.
That afternoon, I reorganized the workforce.
I gathered the ten women working at the brewery.
They were all smiles thanks to the exceptional daily wage of one-tenth of a tael, lunch provided, and the marvelous new water-supply system.
But my expression was stern.
“From now on, you are not merely village women. You are artisans of the Great Peace Brewery.”
I signaled to Chilbok.
He handed out items made of white cotton cloth.
“What are these? Aprons?”
“Yes. Aprons and headscarves.”
“Oh, why do we have to wear such uncomfortable things? Can’t we just work as we always have?”
One of the older women complained.
“You must wear them. If even a single strand of hair falls into a liquor jar, we’ll have to throw out the entire batch.”
My answer was firm.
“And the most important rule: before entering the work area, everyone washes their hands. Scrub them hard beneath running water.”
“Ehh, what does a little dirt matter? It’s the flavor of the hand. The flavor of the hand.”
The women murmured that I was making too much fuss. Explaining concepts like germs and sanitation to people of the Goryeo era was not easy.
“The flavor of the hand is all well and good. But if that flavor is really the taste of invisible creatures living on your hands, would you still drink it?”
“C-Creatures?”
The women recoiled in shock and stared at their hands.
“You can’t see them, but there are countless tiny creatures that make things rot. If they get into the liquor, it turns sour and spoils. Then my five hundred nyang goes flying.”
I brought up money. As expected, money was the most convincing argument.
“If you ruin the liquor by breaking hygiene rules, I’ll deduct the cost of that liquor from your wages.”
“Eek!”
“On the other hand, if you keep everything clean as instructed and the liquor turns out well, I’ll reward you. A pound of meat each.”
Carrot and stick.
The women’s eyes changed.
“Of course we’ll wash! We’ll wash until our hands fall off! I’d boil my hands if I had to!”
From then on, a curious sight appeared at the brewery entrance.
Women in white headscarves and aprons scrubbed their hands with rice straw before going inside.
They looked as solemn as workers entering a semiconductor factory or doctors walking into an operating room.
Next came the division of labor.
After assessing the women’s strengths, I split them into teams.
“Team One, the washing team. You’re meticulous, so you’ll handle nothing but washing rice. Wash it a hundred times, until the cloudy rinse water runs clear. It’ll be easier now that you can wash it with running water.”
“Team Two, the steaming team. You’re strong, so you’ll steam and cool the rice. Keep the steaming time exact. I’ll set up a small water clock. Once the water runs out, put out the fire.”
“Team Three, the fermentation team. This is the most important part: mixing the Great Peace Fermentation Starter, adding water, and regulating the heat. Chilbok is your team leader. Chilbok, keep a close watch.”
“Yes, Big Brother! My hands are precise!”
During the last batch, Chilbok had stood at my side checking the temperature and had developed a feel for it.
“Lastly, Team Four, the bottling team. You’ll strain the finished liquor and fill the bottles. Your hands can’t shake here, so the young wives with sharp eyes will handle it.”
Once everyone’s role was decided, the previous confusion vanished.
The process flowed like water.
Rice was washed and sent to the cauldrons. Steamed rice was spread across broad wooden platforms to cool, then mixed with Great Peace Fermentation Starter and placed in jars.
Every step took place over clean slate flooring with running water close at hand.
“So this is... a systum, then.”
Master Carpenter Gong watched from the side and marveled.
“That’s right. This is a system. Reduce manual labor, increase output, and keep the quality consistent.”
We could now process five rice sacks a day.
One hundred and fifty sacks a month.
That meant more than fifteen hundred bottles of liquor.
Enough production to make Manager Park faint.
***
Seven days later.
The factory began operating at full capacity.
“Add more wood!”
Manseok, hired as the fire tender, shoved firewood into the furnace.
Thanks to the continuous firebox system, even a small amount of firewood could make five cauldrons boil furiously at once.
Hissss—
White steam escaped through the brewery’s roof vents.
The savory, sweet scent of cooked rice spread over the marshland.
“The rice is washed!”
“The firm steamed rice is ready!”
“The Great Peace Fermentation Starter is ready!”
The women’s calls rang out in crisp military cadence.
Dressed in white work uniforms, they moved in perfect order. It was quite a sight.
I watched it all from the office in the second-floor loft.
A cup of warm yuja tea rested in my hand.
‘It’s running well.’
This was the taste of capitalism.
Even without personally sweating, the system brought in money.
Then something white drifted past the window.
“Huh...?”
Snow.
The first snowfall.
Tiny snowflakes settled softly over the marshland’s black soil.
The reed forest was gradually turning white.
Winter had truly begun.
I looked toward the village.
Smoke rose from the chimneys of the thatched cottages, yet they somehow looked lonely.
Winter was terrifying for poor tenant farmers. Firewood ran short, and their food supplies dwindled.
But the Great Peace Domain was different.
Smoke surged energetically from the main house chimney, while warm light spilled through the window cracks.
Lively work songs could be heard from the brewery.
And in the southern fields, though snow was falling, the enormous oil-paper cocoons—the greenhouses—stood firm.
“Big Brother! It’s snowing!”
Manseok ran around the courtyard like a puppy.
“Hey! You’ll slip! Be careful!”
Chilbok shouted as he chased after him.
I set down my teacup and went outside.
Cold snowflakes touched my face, but I did not feel cold.
“Chilbok.”
“Yes, Big Brother!”
“Did you check the greenhouse temperature?”
“I just came back from there. It’s warm inside! The cucumber sprouts were already up this much!”
Chilbok held up a finger to show the length of a knuckle.
It was gratifying to see how naturally he had learned to understand the words I used.
“Good. This winter will be busy.”
The brewery would operate around the clock, while green gold bars grew inside the greenhouses.
While everyone else huddled indoors, we would run our hardest.
“Sir!”
The woman overseeing the brewery opened the door and poked her head out.
“It’s snack-break time. What are we having today?”
The workers cared about only one thing: food.
I answered with a smile.
“Steamed buns.”
“S-Steamed buns?”
“I tried mixing the alcohol lees left over from brewing with flour and sweet red beans, then steaming it. Give them a taste.”
Liquor bread made with fermented alcohol lees.
Fluffy and sweet—the finest winter treat.
“Waaaaah! Steamed buns!”
The women cheered and rushed outside.
Manseok ran after them, shouting, “Save one for me! Save one for me!”
People shared steaming buns beneath the falling snow, white vapor rising from them in the courtyard.
The smiles blossoming on their faces.
That was the most beautiful result of the system I had built.
I took a bite of a steamed bun.
It was sweet.
And so, the first winter of the Great Peace Domain drew near, warm and gentle.