Upon its release, Satangju swept through the European market with the force of a tidal wave, built upon a single, unimpeachable truth cherished by drinkers everywhere: the foremost virtue of any spirit is its ability to intoxicate.

In this regard, distilled spirits were the ultimate form of alcohol. Compared to the fermented drinks that Europeans consumed daily, such as wine and beer, the potency of distilled liquor was overwhelmingly superior. Yet, it suffered from one fatal flaw: its prohibitive price.

Even when distilling the cheapest wine or beer, the sheer volume of raw material required for the process inevitably drove the cost up. Satangju, however, was free from this constraint. It was created by distilling a fermented mash made from the molasses left over after sugar production.

Naturally, it flooded the market at a price dramatically lower than European brandy, and before long, the lower classes of Europe were hopelessly addicted. As time passed, a properly aged, high-quality version of Satangju emerged, and soon the upper classes also began to indulge. The introduction of this premium variety plunged the European high-end liquor market into a chaotic free-for-all, reminiscent of a Warring States Period. A fierce battle for market dominance broke out, as the traditional powerhouse of fine wine faced competition from Dasaekju, which had established itself as a new tradition, along with brandy and the newly introduced premium Satangju.

Thanks to this intense competition, the ones truly raking in money were the Secret Guards’s gisaeng houses. Outside of aristocratic banquet halls, these establishments were the only places where the nobility and upper crust could safely enjoy their drink and conversation.

Naturally, the existing guilds attempted to create similar establishments. However, they faced two significant challenges: they lacked entertainers comparable to the gisaengs of the giru (entertainment establishments), who were true artisans of culture rather than courtesans, and they did not have service staff capable of meeting the high expectations of the aristocracy. As a result, the giru retained their position as the foremost social venues for the elite. Within their walls, the upper classes engaged in everything from casual conversation to serious political negotiations.

Thus dawned the so-called ‘Era of Giru Politics.’ This shift in the social landscape completely inverted the relationship between the European liquor guilds and the gisaeng houses. Now, it was the guilds who pleaded to have their brandies stocked at the giru, for they knew that the high-class patrons who frequented these venues would often place large, separate orders for the spirits that pleased their palates. When Hyang was later briefed on this development, he could only mutter with a look of sheer disbelief.

“What is this, a Giru Warranty instead of a Royal Warrant?”

***

As Satangju captivated the lower classes, a serious social problem began to emerge across Europe, particularly in England and France. The number of alcoholics skyrocketed. During this period, the poor quality of water meant that alcohol often served as a substitute for drinking water. This issue was so severe that the Secret Guards’s gisaeng houses used large-scale water purifiers just to produce clean water for their own cooking and beverages.

The water problem created a situation where people literally ‘drank alcohol like water.’ Typically, wine or beer filled this role, but Satangju soon usurped their position.

Cheaper than any other spirit, yet more potent than any other.

This was Satangju’s greatest strength, and it was now on full display. For the lower classes in Europe’s cities, mines, and rural villages—in every corner of the continent—it was the perfect answer. After a grueling day of labor, when exhaustion was so profound that sleep itself was elusive, a few glasses of Satangju offered a peaceful rest. It was the same for nights made sleepless by the weight of taxes and a thousand other worries.

Even if their lives were destined to hit rock bottom tomorrow, they could at least sleep soundly for one night. It was a comfort during work as well. When their limbs felt as heavy as lead, a few gulps of the spirit could make them feel vigorous again. In time, however, this devolved into a situation where ‘the drink started drinking the drink,’ and life became impossible without alcohol.

In the back alleys of the cities, people drunk on Satangju stumbled about or lay collapsed in every direction, lost in a stupor. A far greater problem was that this alcoholism afflicted men, women, and children without distinction, a direct consequence of alcohol being a daily substitute for drinking water.

***

Eventually, as alcoholism from Satangju swelled into a major social crisis, the Church intervened.

“People of God! Do not drink! Do not drink this Satangju! Think of tomorrow! A single glass of this liquor is dragging you and your families to the very bottom!”

Clergymen roamed the streets crying out for temperance, but the response from their intended audience was lukewarm at best.

“Tch! I can die from drinking rotten water or I can die from drinking Satangju. If I’m gonna die either way, Satangju is the better choice!”

“My life is already at the bottom, so why worry about tomorrow? It’ll just be the bottom again!”

After pleading for abstinence until their throats were raw, with little to show for it, the clergy changed their tack to incitement.

“Satangju is a sin created by Satan!”

“Does its very name not contain ‘Satan’?”

“Satan created Satangju to drag your souls to Hell!”

This line of propaganda was met with incredulity not only from the lower classes but from the upper echelons as well.

“Even if your target is the ignorant masses, to resort to such a foolish tactic…”

“There should be a limit to such absurdity.”

Before long, a new kind of sign began to appear in front of shops that sold liquor.

— We have the Satangju that makes even Satan pass out drunk!

In due course, the issue of alcoholism captured the attention of the kings. When first briefed, the monarchs of Europe issued similar commands.

“Bring me this Satangju.”

Upon tasting the liquor brought before them, they immediately spat it out and turned to their ministers.

“Pah! This is not the Satangju I know! They are drinking this foul stuff in such quantities? Have the palates of our people been ruined?”

The response from the ministers was nearly identical across the kingdoms.

“It is because it is cheap, Your Majesty.”

“Is that so…”

Amidst this farce, the monarchs of Europe mulled over the problem and devised a solution. Their first act was to restrict imports, cutting them by 50% in most cases, and by a drastic 80% in others.

Curiously, of the 50% to 20% of imports that remained, the bulk was allocated to the premium Satangju destined for the upper classes. When this policy was announced, the lower classes rose up in protest.

“Are you the only ones who get to enjoy Satangju?”

“Give us back our Satangju! Give it back!”

As fierce demonstrations erupted in cities and rural areas alike, the kings and their officials were forced to change their policy. In later years, European historians would appraise these protests as ‘the dawn of the European civil rights movement.’

Ultimately, the monarchs and their administrators rescinded the import ban and pivoted to a new strategy: levying enormous taxes on Satangju. At the same time, they made cheaper fermented drinks, like beer, tax-exempt.

There was backlash this time as well, but it was far less intense than what the prohibition had caused. Over time, the market for cheap Satangju aimed at the lower classes stabilized, shrinking to about half of its peak.

“Is it impossible to reduce it further?”

“If we raise the taxes any more, there will be riots again, Your Majesty.”

“A pity… Hmph!”

The kings, unable to hide their disappointment, smacked their lips and issued a new order to their officials.

“Draft a letter of protest to the Empire. How dare they create such a bizarre liquor!”

***

Reviewing the flood of protest letters, Hyeon turned to the officials gathered with him.

“It seems to me that a populace fallen to alcoholism is the fault of the monarch, not the fault of the alcohol, wouldn’t you agree?”

Han Myeong-hoe stepped forward to answer.

“That is an obvious truth, Your Majesty. The people seek drink more in times of hardship than in times of joy. That is to say, if the people are falling into alcoholism, it is because their lives are harsh, not because the drink itself is the problem. And if the people’s lives are harsh, the blame must be laid at the feet of those who govern the nation.”

Lim Sunwook followed up on Han Myeong-hoe’s words.

“Indeed. To blame the liquor is merely to evade responsibility. A drink is a simple provision; it is not the drink that calls forth disaster. Calamity is born only from the heart of the individual.”

Hyeon nodded at Lim Sunwook’s statement.

“It reminds me of something the Emperor Emeritus said long ago: ‘What sin has the alcohol committed? The sinner is the one who commits the crime.’ That is why, under Imperial law, one who is intoxicated is punished more severely for their crimes.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It was a truly just ruling.”

When Hyang, alongside King Sejong, first established the foundational laws and later revised the penal code, he added a specific condition regarding alcohol.

—For any and all crimes, if the perpetrator is found to have been in a state of intoxication upon committing the act, they shall unconditionally be sentenced to the maximum penalty applicable for said crime.

“I’ll make sure no one can ever get away with that ‘diminished capacity due to intoxication’ nonsense!”

After this brief interlude sharing an anecdote related to Hyang, Hyeon and his ministers returned to the main topic.

“The Satangju sold in Europe and the Satangju sold in the Empire are not different products. Could this not become a problem for our Empire as well?”

At Hyeon’s pointed question, Han Myeong-hoe replied.

“It will not become a major issue within our Empire, Your Majesty.”

“And why is that?”

“While it is cheap, it is not exceptionally so. And the biggest problem is that it tastes absolutely dreadful.”

“So you are saying that even though it is cheap, it does not sell because it tastes foul?”

“That is correct, Your Majesty.”

Just as Han Myeong-hoe said, Satangju was not a popular spirit in the Empire, unlike in Europe.

***

The first time the people of the Empire, especially those in the mainland Bonji and the northern Northern Territories regions, tasted Satangju, they spat it out immediately and let loose a string of curses.

“Ptui, ptui! For fuck’s sake! Owner! You call this liquor? This is liquor?!”

“Ah, hell! I’d rather drink raw ethanol! I may be broke, but I’m not drinking this swill!”

The reason Satangju received such a hostile reception was that Bonji and Northern Territories were overflowing with alcohol. In any village of a decent size, whether in the mainland or the north, there was at least one local brewery. Each of these suldoga or traditional breweries produced their own distinctive takju[1], cheongju[2], and soju[3] for the market.

And it was not just the breweries.

The noble houses, the banga of Bonji and Northern Territories, possessed liquors passed down exclusively within their families. They used these spirits for ancestral rites, held feasts with them, and gave them as gifts. The noble houses renowned for their fine liquors, or miju[4], earned considerable wealth from their sales.

In the Empire’s liquor market, where the absolute powerhouse Dasaekju already stood firm, the position Satangju could occupy was bound to be low. Interestingly, the situation was similar even in the new continent of New Frontier. The native liquor there, both in the north and south, consisted almost entirely of primitive fermented beverages. To these indigenous peoples, the spirits of the Empire were a profound shock.

The natives eagerly frequented the government-run Monopoly Bureaus to acquire the liquors sold there. Over time, as Imperial settlers from the mainland established themselves, unique spirits characteristic of New Frontier began to emerge. Naturally, new fermented drinks, refined liquors, and distilled spirits reflecting the local color appeared and found their place.

Consequently, Satangju, a spirit that was merely cheap and high-proof, was spurned throughout the entire Empire.