Chapter 9
[Ehwado]’s 25th head of the household, Choi Eun-ja, was eighty-three.
In Kwon-ha’s mind, her profile began to take shape, one detail at a time. Eun-ja slowly approached, leaning on her cane.
“Seems there’s been some commotion.”
Small in stature, marked by the years, she nonetheless commanded the entire space the moment she appeared.
Her eyes, wrinkled yet gleaming with a sharp, lively light, radiated authority and experience.
What is this? She reminds me of my grandfather.
Not in appearance, but in the aura she exuded. The photos of the master in the reports didn’t even come close to capturing her presence.
“Grandmother… this is—”
Eun-ja raised a hand, gently but firmly stopping Do-ah from speaking. Her movements were slow but precise, unadorned yet graceful. Every motion carried refined dignity and eyes brimming with wisdom beyond comprehension.
Facing her, one felt like a pup standing before a tiger.
Kwon-ha swallowed his thoughts and stepped forward.
“Hello. I am Kang Kwon-ha, sir.”
“I’ve been watching you for a while.”
“I see… my appearance probably wasn’t commendable. My apologies.”
Kwon-ha responded calmly. Eun-ja observed him closely, then asked:
“Have you ever tried brewing liquor?”
“Honestly, I haven’t. I’m practically starting from scratch. That’s partly why I came to Ehwado.”
He spoke honestly, though it sounded almost like a lie. Somehow, in front of Eun-ja, falsehoods felt unnatural. Even if he tried, they would be exposed immediately.
“But I pride myself on learning quickly,” he added.
Eun-ja’s brow furrowed slightly at his words. Had he misspoken? Kwon-ha chose not to clarify further.
After a thoughtful pause, Eun-ja’s voice finally broke the silence:
“Prepare a room in the annex for him.”
The unexpected decree left everyone in shock. The most surprised of all was Do-ah. She had served Eun-ja for years and understood how radical this decision was.
Eun-ja had always applied stricter judgment when bringing someone in rather than sending them away. And yet, today, she allowed a newcomer into [Ehwado]—at such a critical time, while brewing the famed Cheondo Ichwajoo.
“Grandmother!”
“At Ehwado, strict rules are in place. You’ll hear the details from this child.”
“Grandmother, wait!”
Do-ah’s desperate protests went unheard.
“Henceforth, you must follow this child’s instructions entirely.”
Eun-ja left Kwon-ha with a warning-like instruction and turned, walking away. Do-ah followed, continuing to voice her opposition. Yet Eun-ja remained silent, focused only on the path ahead. Over the wall, the faces of the secretary and others reflected disbelief.
“Did the master really let those young men in…?”
“Seems so.”
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
In all this, only Kwon-ha smiled.
Night fell after the commotion had passed. The traditional house was quiet, filled only with the noisy hum of insects.
Kwon-ha opened the lattice window fully, letting the night air in. Sweet floral notes mixed with a faint, sour aroma of fermenting nuruk drifted through the breeze.
“Even the air is intoxicating, like a brewery,” he murmured.
Occupying one of the eight rooms in the annex, Kwon-ha closed his eyes and savored the wind. It wasn’t unpleasant. For someone so sensitive to smells, this was rare.
Suddenly, memories of the earlier events flashed vividly before his eyes—the face of the woman who resembled the Ehwado leaves overlapping with the underground commander in his mind.
—Even if you give me all of Daesung Judo, not a single step into Ehwado is allowed.
The unwavering spirit behind her red lips. The courage and fierce will emanating from her black eyes. Even the subtle lift of hostility toward him stirred a strange thrill. Each detail was etched into his memory like carved reliefs.
“Am I… really intoxicated?”
Just as his thoughts began to spiral, a soft knock came:
Tap, tap.
It was likely the secretary returning with extra clothes. The minor noise abruptly shattered his reverie. Kwon-ha kept his eyes closed deliberately, lingering in the moment.
“Please come out for a moment.”
Do-ah’s voice finally drew him to attention. He sprang to his feet and walked toward the door.
His hand paused on the circular knob. Why was he hesitating?
Checking himself in the mirror nearby, he frowned. His left cheek bore a red bruise from the security chief’s blow. By tomorrow, it would likely turn bluish.
What a mess.
His bangs were disheveled, clothes in tatters. He couldn’t avoid opening the door forever. And he wanted, secretly, to see her face that had lingered in his mind.
His hand instinctively turned the knob. Desire outweighed caution.
As the door swung open, a subtle fragrance greeted him—not like the usual scent of the annex, but a faint soap-like or personal scent, barely detectable unless one had a sensitive nose.
“I thought you might need treatment.”
Do-ah carried a small first-aid kit, eyeing Kwon-ha’s split lip. He offered a polite smile and stepped aside.
“Please come in.”
“No, I think it’s better if you come here.”
Do-ah’s tone was firm. Dressed in white traditional attire, she looked completely proper, lacking any hint of seduction—a style more suited to a temple than an outsider’s room.
“Very well.”
Sitting side by side on the veranda, Kwon-ha realized he needed to correct himself. First, he noticed a few strands of hair clinging to Do-ah’s pale, slender neck. The tranquil sight struck him like a sudden jolt. His body heated awkwardly.
What… is this?
He looked down at the sore area, frowning. Such obliviousness and lack of propriety! Shielding his lower body with his hands, he crossed his legs. Every sound of the box opening seemed amplified.
Did she come all this way just to treat this injury?
The thought made him twitch his lips in a small, amused reaction. Perhaps he should have been hit a little harder—foolish as it was.
“Here are disinfectant and ointment. This is a cold pack.”
Ah… so she was only handing over the supplies. Kwon-ha quickly repositioned his head, accepting the items.
Do-ah continued:
“Earlier, I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“No need to thank me.”
“Still… you got hurt, didn’t you?”
“Ah… this isn’t even a serious injury compared to those who’ve hit me before.”
Kwon-ha’s arrogance prompted a faint sigh from Do-ah. Then she began to outline instructions:
“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.”
“…”
“Those in charge of each area will instruct you on tasks. Tomorrow, please be ready here by 5:30 a.m.”
Hah… this is stricter than the military.
Even in Seoul, average sleep was shorter, but it never felt this harsh. Perhaps the psychological pressure of confinement made it feel so.
Do-ah recited the rules without pause:
“Avoid cigarettes, perfumes, and other cosmetics. The aroma must not mix with the nuruk. Wear comfortable clothing, or the work clothes provided here if needed.”
She ended with a note that certain rooms were off-limits and began packing her kit.
“By the way… is your ankle alright?”
Kwon-ha’s voice carried genuine concern. Do-ah paused, noticing it.
“The compress…”
She met his gaze as he carefully examined the injured ankle.
“It’s fine.”
“Don’t just say it’s fine. I’ve boxed before. Injuries like this can get worse if ignored.”
“…Looks like you haven’t done anything yet.”
Cautiously, Kwon-ha extended his hand.
“Let me see your ankle.”
