I took a sip of the Dugangju, which tasted especially bland today, and spoke.
“You know the one who first made Dugangju—Senior Dugang?”
The Lecher looked at me and replied,
“Dugang is your senior?”
“He’s not really a senior.”
“Then why call him that so casually?”
“I’ve never met him, so calling him ‘hyung’ would be weirder, right?”
The Drunk nodded with a serious look.
“That’s fair. He’s a senior.”
I asked the two of them,
“Do you guys know why Senior Dugang’s Dugangju became so famous?”
The Drunk took another sip and grimaced.
“I don’t know, but this place’s version sucks.”
The Lecher also frowned and agreed.
“This is just a knockoff Dugangju. Honestly, it shouldn’t even be allowed to use the name. Not even low-grade.”
I set down my cup too.
“They say Senior Dugang traveled around looking for water to brew good liquor.”
“My grandfather. He said Dugang eventually found a place called Icheon near the Dugang River. So did he make Dugangju in Icheon? No. He searched every nook and cranny of the area, traced a stream upstream, and discovered a spring. The water was so clear and tasty, you could drink it as is. That’s where Dugangju began.”
“Now the brewing method for Dugangju is well-known. You can find it in inns or shady street stalls. But the truly good ones are rare. The method got passed down, but brewers don’t go through the effort of finding good water. Maybe some black market middlemen got involved in the distribution chain. The secret behind Dugangju’s taste wasn’t the method, but the water used. Let’s go. I’ve lost my taste for it.”