London Heathrow Airport. As the arrivals hall doors opened, cold dampness seeped into his lungs.
Christopher White walked while checking his wristwatch, and behind him, an employee followed pushing a luggage cart stacked with several crates. Inside those crates were half a case each of 'Echelon 2005' and 'Sylphide 2005.'
Thomas, the employee pulling the luggage cart, spoke as if joking.
"I'm looking forward to everyone being surprised when they drink this wine."
But Christopher only smirked, his expression nowhere near as excited as Thomas's.
"Don't get your hopes up too much. Our purpose is to promote the wine."
"But isn't it excellent if the wine is this quality?"
"Right. It's an excellent wine for the price. But if you expect high scores, the disappointment will be greater. And anyway, we don't have enough quantity to sell. Just think of it as building the careers of Echelon and Sylphide."
The reason he had specifically brought Echelon rather than Sylphide was because he wanted to build a good long-term relationship with Redwood. Especially since Brian had previously mentioned cult wines, and they expected another Pinot Noir wine to be released by the end of this year in addition to Sylphide, Christopher absolutely had to win Redwood's favor.
The reason he had come to London on this business trip was not to achieve tremendous results with this wine, but more to show that White & Company Wine Trading was making this much effort for the Redwood Wine brand.
"Still, I somehow have a feeling the results will be good."
"Heh, that would be nice."
The air outside the airport was heavy and ashen.
"The weather is so..."
"England is always like this."
"This is why I don't like England."
The two caught a taxi and loaded the luggage in the back.
"Where to, sir?"
"The Conrad St. James Hotel, in Westminster."
The taxi driver immediately pulled onto the road.
"Business trip?"
"I've come to participate in a wine judging."
"Wine, you say? Not the best choice in London, I'm afraid. We're still a nation that gets by on beer."
Christopher smiled quietly at the driver's joke. While the driver's words were true, that only applied to the general working class; ever since the 13th century, England had been the world's foremost wine-consuming nation.
Despite being a country with a climate unsuitable for traditional wine grape cultivation, wines from France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy were traded through the Port of London, serving as the gateway for wine and establishing the city as the center of judging, distribution, and evaluation.
In particular, *Decanter* was a British wine magazine founded in 1975 that had practically led the global standards for wine evaluation; when they launched the Decanter World Wine Awards (DWWA) in 2004, it immediately became a wine competition with worldwide prestige.
"England is where world-class wine competitions are held. You can be proud of that."
"Oh—really?"
Christopher turned his gaze back outside the window. He had told Thomas not to expect much, but in truth, he couldn't help but feel a little hopeful himself. He was forcibly suppressing that feeling.
The next morning, the hotel lobby was already crowded.
【Decanter World Wine Awards】
Banners printed with the names of wineries from 60 countries around the world hung down to the lobby ceiling. Beneath the posters, participants from various countries were moving wine boxes. Bordeaux, Barolo, Malbec, and Napa... different aromas and colors mixed in one space.
Christopher presented his documents at the reception desk.
"Redwood Winery. From California."
The female staff member nodded and checked the list.
"It says you have two kinds of entry wines?"
"Echelon, and Sylphide."
"Produced in the same year?"
"Same year, same winemaker, but different varietals, so they're wines with completely different characters."
Having completed registration, Christopher slowly looked around the hall. The French booth was already swarming with journalists. A French winemaker spoke into a microphone.
"French wine is a dialogue between soil and time. The terroir unique to France produces the most special wines in the world. Moreover, the dignity is elevated by techniques steeped in long history."
But at a journalist's question, his face hardened.
"That was the flow of the times. People are always drawn to new and intense flavors at least once. But in the end, people return. Soft, lingering finishes and an inimitable dignity. That is the place of French wine."
Words overflowing with pride for French wine struck his ears clearly.
Meanwhile, right next to him, a representative of some Italian wine distributor was pouring wine for journalists. The aroma of Barolo spread through the air.
"Now, this is Barolo, born from the heart of Piedmont and the soil where Europe's most expensive grapes grow. This land is rich in limestone, and the wind blows only from the northwest. That is why Barolo is firm but has a long finish.
They say American wines are trendy now? Yes, they are young and powerful. But this is different. Aged ten years, the cherry aroma transforms into spice, and then into truffle. That is a change no machine or technique can create.
I export only forty thousand bottles per year. The reason? The wine will answer that for me, not I. Here, smell it. This is a wine you drink with your nose, not your mouth."
Everyone participating here passionately promoted their wines and revealed their pride. Listening to their stories made you want to open your wallet and willingly pay for the wine before you.
In the afternoon, a preliminary meeting was held. Judges from various countries sat around a long, continuous round table.
England, France, Italy, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand... they were all people one would have seen in wine magazines just by hearing their names.
"This year, we emphasize balance over aging."
"Minerality is the trend. If the oak aroma is strong, scores will be difficult."
"Light reds are the trend these days."
Their conversation appeared peaceful and calm on the surface, but an unmistakable tension flowed beneath.
Amidst them, Christopher quietly took out his phone. A message had come from Brian in America.
[How is London?]
He sent a short reply.
[It's fierce, as if in the middle of a war. It would have been a good experience to come together and feel the atmosphere here. A shame.]
Waiting to see what kind of contact would come, he spent his time in nervous anticipation.
---
While Christopher was spending tense hours in London for the wine exhibition, I found myself in a completely unexpected situation.
"Ah... this feels familiar. Haven't we experienced something like this before?"
Armando, sitting in the passenger seat beside me as I drove, spoke while fixing his hair in the sun visor mirror.
"We have. I regret not being more aggressive in making a move on Christina back then. I wonder what she's doing now?"
"She's probably dating another guy by now."
"You cruel bastard..."
I was on my way to Healdsburg after picking up Armando from Laguna Creek Winery in Alexander Valley. Surprisingly, Siena had invited me to her birthday party.
I had been about to refuse because I was busy, but somehow Armando found out and insisted on going together, resulting in me suddenly ending up at a birthday party.
"But do you really like Siena? Look at her eyes; they're not normal."
"Tsk tsk tsk... you don't know. The more a woman is like that, the more she's drawn to a strong man. My ex-girlfriend told me."
"That reporter?"
"Yeah. Maybe because she's three years older than me, she taught me a lot of things. I guess that's why they say your first woman should be an older one."
"..."
"Well, I guess that doesn't matter to you. But did you tell Chloe?"
"No. Do I need to?"
"As expected... that's why I like you. A man who gets dragged around by women isn't cool. You need to slip away from their grasp sometimes to make them anxious."
"What are you even talking about..."
Arriving at the white mansion where Siena lived, I clicked my tongue inwardly at its imposing scale. Even Chloe was from a wealthy family that carried some clout in the region, but seeing Siena's mansion made me realize the gap was indescribable.
"Wow... this is incredible."
"You're not into Siena for her money, right?"
Armando said firmly.
"No. But I think I'll love her even more."
"Crazy..."
When we arrived at the mansion, balloons for the party were already stuck around the house, and numerous kids who had arrived earlier were walking around holding wine glasses and chatting.
Loud pop music, alcohol, and young men and women throwing themselves into the heated swimming pool... At the provocative and sexy sights, Armando swallowed hard.
"This is crazy, I said it's crazy."
"Must be nice. Find Siena first."
"Huh? There she is."
Armando spotted Siena surrounded by friends in the center of the party and approached her.
"Nice to see you."
"Oh, hi."
By now, Siena remembered exchanging greetings several times, so she didn't tilt her head at Armando. Rather, her expression, as if she were glad to see him, felt somewhat strange. And looking alternately at me, who had followed behind Armando, she spoke.
"Enjoy the party. If you brought a swimsuit, feel free to swim. Ah, Brian, my dad wants to see you—can you spare a moment?"
"Your father?"
"Yeah, he told me to let him know when you arrived."
"Okay."
She immediately made a phone call to inform him that I had arrived. The fact that she called rather than walking over to get him made me realize this house was on another level.
As I was standing there blankly,
"But you're not swimming?"
"Me? Why?"
"Just... I think a swimsuit would suit you well."
I muttered "crazy bastard" behind him, but absurdly, Siena tossed her long hair back and spoke with a strange look in her eyes.
"It would suit you well."
"I had a feeling. This house seems amazing. Could you show me around?"
"Should I? Guys, give me a minute."
Watching Siena lead Armando away, my mouth fell open.
"What? Is this a hidden camera prank?"
I firmly believed my suspicion couldn't be right. For that bottomless flirting to work was something that shouldn't happen, if only for the sake of justice in this world.
At that moment, a dignified voice came from behind.
"Ah, Brian?"
Turning around, a handsome middle-aged white man smiled brightly and extended his hand. Shaking hands with him, I spoke.
"Hello. I heard you were looking for me?"
"That's right. Siena told me she invited you, so I asked her to tell me as soon as you arrived. Thanks for coming all the way here. Wine...?"
"I'm fine, I drove here. I'll just have a soft drink."
At a party for early-twenty-somethings, one would expect RTDs rather than wine, but indeed, these were children of wealthy families, and above all, children of a winemaking dynasty, so cheap cocktails were nowhere to be seen.
Even the wine visible right before my eyes was a Pinot Noir with a retail price exceeding ninety dollars, and since it was made at their own winery, they seemed to be pouring it freely.
"They say Asians are certainly restrained, and it seems that saying is true. The kids here treat drinking as drinking and driving as driving. It's noisy, so shall we go somewhere quiet?"
"Yes."
Mark Harrington, Siena's father, led me down two floors underground. There was a billiards room and a small bar, which I could tell was where he talked with guests.
"This is nice."
"Right?"
He poured some juice from a small refrigerator in the bar and pushed it toward me. Then he sat in the host's seat inside the bar and opened his mouth.
"Actually, I had been thinking of visiting Redwood sometime."
"For what reason...?"
"I heard you receive grapes from Grendel Hill Vineyard."
He brought up an unexpected topic.
"Yes..."
"This time, several of our California wineries are trying to make a special wine to commemorate the victory at the 30th anniversary Judgment of Paris retasting. How about Redwood Winery participating? The California state government is specially supporting these wines and will promote them too. It'll be a good opportunity."
His eyes gleamed strangely as he made a proposal that any winery would covet.