After news of Quiet Hill's launch spread, the atmosphere at the Redwood Winery office had completely changed. It wasn't for any other reason—it was a welcome inconvenience born from the fact that they hadn't yet finalized a distribution company.
"Could we... secure some right now?"
"I'm sorry, but not yet..."
"Then how much allocation is possible?"
"That, too, is not yet... It will be finalized by Friday of this week at the latest."
My father, who had politely answered the phone, spoke to me as I was just coming out of the aging cellar.
"It's chaos. All of them are restaurants. Should we just handle the delivery ourselves? If Dad makes deliveries for just one month, how much money would that be?"
Recalling the days when he used to deliver and supply Serasia himself, Father gave off an air as though he might rent a truck and start making deliveries at any moment.
"Come on, Dad, don't be so greedy. You have a mountain of things to do before the Serasia launch; where do you think you're going?"
"Sigh, you're right about that."
The Serasia scheduled for release this time was expected to amount to over seven thousand cases, an enormous volume. Naturally, thorough supervision was required to safely bottle all that wine, apply labels, and stack it in the warehouse.
Even knowing that, the reason Father was coveting handling distribution himself was the enormous profit generated during distribution. Quiet Hill, which would be supplied at seventy dollars per bottle, would clearly exceed one hundred and forty dollars per bottle once it entered restaurants. No wonder he was tempted.
But I wasn't very interested in such distribution profits. When I focused all my energy on making and selling wine, I didn't feel much lingering desire for other things. Besides, considering the profits I'd be receiving from my friends' farms, distribution profits weren't all that tempting.
Just then, I saw two sedans entering simultaneously from the direction of the farm entrance in the distance.
"Huh? They're here."
I saw several people getting out of their cars and walking up leisurely. Guided by a staff member, they entered the office.
"You're CEO Woody Choe, correct? And this is the winemaker, Brian Choe? It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Michael Hayes of RNDC, in charge of California and Nevada."
"Republic National Distributing Company, is it? RNDC."
"That's correct. I'm the Western Region Sales Director."
After shaking his hand, a woman in her late forties standing behind him extended her hand, and Father responded.
"I'm Elina Martinez of Southern Wine & Spirits. I've worked in on-premise (restaurants/bars) for a long time."
"Southern Wine & Spirits? I think I've heard of it."
"If you do business in California, you couldn't possibly have avoided hearing our name."
She continued, displaying tremendous confidence.
"We heard that Mr. Warren Vinyarski has joined Redwood. Every wine lover is paying attention to Redwood. We would like to formally sign a distribution contract with you. But... you'll need to compare your options, won't you?"
She glanced at Michael Hayes beside her and smiled faintly.
"Please, have a seat."
The two of them presented the documents they had each brought, and Dad and I sat across from them, briefly scanning the papers.
"Let's hear your proposals first."
As soon as Dad finished speaking, Michael opened the file he had brought as if he had been waiting for this moment.
"We at RNDC can promise you two things. First is an allocation system that manages inventory as an asset rather than simply selling it off, and second is price protection. Let me first explain the drop system."
"The drop system?"
"Yes. Once a month, only designated accounts—for example, six in San Francisco, eight in LA, and three in San Diego. All of them influential restaurants with strong wine lists... Second, to defend the price, we establish a 'minimum selling price guide' for each account..."
Dad and I listened attentively, nodding our heads. When his explanation was finished, Elina immediately took over.
"The proposal regarding retail defense that RNDC mentioned was impressive. However, we intend to approach this by raising the brand's value in the on-premise sector."
Elina slid a sheet of paper toward me. Across the top were words written in bold.
[Sommelier Program / Chef's Table Pairing Nights / Press & Critics Track]
"Those who have already experienced Quiet Hill know it isn't suited to being a party wine. So where should we build its value? The sommelier's table."
"Specifically?"
"For example, there's a restaurant in LA with a chef's table that only seats twelve, correct? If one bottle gets in there, that single bottle spreads by word of mouth. The chef tells the kitchen staff, the sommelier tells other sommeliers, and the buyer calls other buyers."
Then, alternating her gaze between Dad and me, she continued in a confident tone.
"What we're proposing is a strategy that properly designs the market entry from the ground up. Blind tastings targeting sommeliers and..."
Both of their passionate presentations were certainly impressive. And the one thing they had in common was that they each demanded exclusivity.
Just then, there was a sharp knock at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Christopher White was standing there. Though he wore the same neat suit as always, his slightly flushed face made his urgent state of mind plainly obvious.
"Brian, I hope I'm not too late?"
"Of course not."
Naturally, I had no intention of hearing proposals without including Christopher's White & Co. Wine Trading. It was true that he had made a lot of money through Redwood, but it was also true that Redwood had significantly elevated its image thanks to his capabilities.
However, Dad had said that continuing to extend the contract with a single distributor without any discussion was hardly a good choice, and since major distribution companies had come rushing in without anyone asking them to, we hadn't stopped them either.
"We've heard you out for now. We'll listen to all the other companies' proposals, consider them carefully, and get back to you."
After sending the two companies off like that, we had Christopher sit on the sofa. He drank some cold water, composed himself, and then looked me straight in the eye and spoke.
"Quiet Hill... I'll take it."
He said it as though it had already been entrusted to him, but the passion filling his eyes made it clear that this was no forced proposal.
"All of it?"
"As much as you're willing to give... The companies that already came and left were probably RNDC and Southern Wine, weren't they?"
He seemed to have guessed which companies they were just by looking at our faces.
"That's right."
"They must have made various proposals. Among them was probably a value maintenance strategy similar to what we carried out with Sylphid in the East. Honestly, if we compare scale alone, there's a clear difference between us and them. So if we employed the same strategy, I don't think White & Co. would have any significant advantage objectively."
"...So?"
"We don't want to act as a mere distributor for Redwood's wines. We want to serve as your brand agency. Therefore, rather than treating one-time distribution sales as our fixed revenue, we would like to propose a payback system where a certain portion of the sales is returned to the winery."
"A payback system?"
The term alone piqued my curiosity. Having confirmed that curiosity was written on Dad's and my faces, Christopher's voice carried a bit more confidence.
"The standard structure for wine distribution is as follows: the distributor purchases from the winery at wholesale price and then goes through the retail stage. In exchange for bearing inventory burdens and sales risks, the distributor takes one hundred percent of the sales margin as a rule. So there's an aspect where the distributor captures considerable profit. I heard that you've set Quiet Hill's wholesale price at seventy dollars per bottle, same as Sylphid—eight hundred and forty dollars per case. Is that correct?"
"That's correct."
"If you give us a portion of Quiet Hill's shipment volume, we will proceed with distribution in the same manner as the existing method. However, if you grant us exclusivity, we will return twenty percent of the profits—which we typically earn at over eight hundred dollars per case—back to you."
"So... you're saying you'll pay us at least an additional one hundred and sixty dollars per case?"
He nodded vigorously.
"Exactly. This means that although Redwood sold at the wholesale price of eight hundred and forty dollars per case, you would effectively be earning the same revenue as if you had sold at one thousand dollars per case."
"......"
"If the total shipment volume is three thousand five hundred cases, the winery's revenue would increase by five hundred sixty thousand dollars compared to the existing arrangement."
It was certainly a more powerful proposal than anything else. To this, Dad asked,
"If we do this brand agency model, you're saying you'd want to do this with most of the wines we have?"
"That's correct."
"If you do payback even for Sylphid, you might end up losing money compared to now, wouldn't you?"
"It may appear that way in the short term. But you don't have just one wine to release, do you? I understand that a cult-classic-level blending wine will soon be released..."
Having come and gone from our winery many times already, this much was hardly even information to him.
"Yes, that's right. So that, too...?"
"Included."
"Hmm..."
While Dad stood with his arms crossed in thought, Christopher leaned forward and spoke with an intense gaze.
"Think about it. Unlike other distributors, we have to return a portion of profits to the winery. So to maximize our company's earnings, we have to raise the wine's value. We can't just dump inventory because it's piling up in the warehouse. We would have no choice but to be more sincere about marketing than any other company."
"I understand."
"White & Co. will essentially be in the same boat as Redwood. The better Redwood does, the more White & Co. will grow, and if Redwood's reputation falls, our company's fate will be sealed as well. But would other companies be the same?"
"......"
"Probably not."
As though he had said everything he needed to say, Christopher straightened his posture and looked at the two of us.
"Could you give us some time to think?"
"Of course."
"Very well. Then we'll decide and contact you within two days."
"Thank you. Then..."
As soon as he left, Dad immediately turned to me and spoke.
"He's made up his mind completely. He's staked everything on Redwood. He thinks of our company like a lottery ticket."
"I think Mr. Warren's joining us must have played a decisive role."
Honestly, Warren joining had influenced the quality of the blending wine that would soon be released, so he hadn't contributed to Quiet Hill in the slightest. But from the outside, it was impossible to deny that people would believe Redwood would grow even more going forward.
"Mr. Warren really is a treasure. Just joining the company produced these kinds of results."
"That's true, too... He did provide decisive help with the blending wine."
"Really? I tasted both the one you made and the one Mr. Warren adjusted, but I couldn't tell much difference."
"Well... there is a difference."
Ever since I started making wine, Dad had been studying it diligently as well, but it had only been two years. Among wine enthusiasts, entering one's third year might not be quite the level of a toddler taking its first steps, but it was still not a level where one could be said to have abundant experience with wine.
"You still have a long way to go."
"I still have a ways to go. Even if I drink a bottle every day, I'll need to drink for at least another three years to know a thing or two."
"But how do you know so much?"
"...I guess I just... have a bit of talent."
Leaving Dad in the office like that, I came out and quietly watched Warren in the aging cellar as he researched how to make brandy, then asked,
"Is that... actually going to work?"
"Quiet! Just wait and see!"
Warren smirked and glared at the beaker containing a mixture of Cabernet Sauvignon and Serasia.
"This fellow is starting to talk now..."