Christian Moueix looked at me in silence. Perhaps because of the authority and reputation he possessed, he completely weighed down the air around the antique dining table. Chloe, the most fainthearted among them, was gripping my jacket tightly and looking at me with worried eyes, but because she trusted me, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything that would break the atmosphere.
“You must enjoy blind tastings normally?”
“Occasionally? As you go through life, there are times when boredom comes calling. At such moments, there’s no game quite like blind tasting—one that creates an opportunity to learn more about the other person while adding a bit of fun.”
His words about learning more about the other person shouldn’t be taken at face value. Depending on the situation, it could also mean showing someone who didn’t know their place exactly where they stood.
“I see. And in tastings like this, how do the results usually turn out? Do they come out the way you want, Mr. Christian?”
He stared straight into my eyes. He seemed to want to know the intent behind my question.
“Hmm… for the most part, I suppose they have.”
“Well, if you conduct a blind tasting without telling anyone in advance what wines will appear, there won’t be many people who can guess correctly.”
“I suppose? Is that your way of saying it’s difficult?”
The way he grinned made it seem as though he was thinking, Seeing as you’re talking so much, you don’t know either, do you?
“The first glass seems to be the jewel of Napa Valley, Shafer Hillside Select 2004.”
In that instant, not only Christian Moueix but Warren as well showed a slightly surprised expression. They must have thought I would exchange a few more questions and answers, gain some hints, and then give an answer. They hadn’t expected me to name the wine in one shot.
“……Why do you think so?”
The eyes beyond Moueix’s glasses trembled faintly.
“Because the only wine that can maintain this level of concentrated raspberry aroma while simultaneously achieving a refreshing acidity around pH 3.5 and a silk-like tannin structure is Shafer, born from the barren rocky soils of the Stags Leap District. It’s a sculptural wine in which technique and terroir are perfectly fused. You knew right away, didn’t you, sir?”
“I’ve drunk that wine until I’m sick of it.”
Warren nodded, but the surprise still hadn’t left his eyes. Shafer, located only a few miles from Stags Leap, was a neighbor in terms of distance, but it was also one of the first-generation winemakers who built Napa Valley.
The fact that Shafer Hillside Select had been chosen as the first wine was itself a kind of hint, so Christian hadn’t given no hint at all. If I had asked Warren anything at all about the first wine, I could have found the correct answer easily. But since I had guessed it immediately without even turning my head toward Warren, both of them were surprised.
“How interesting.”
The one person here watching the situation without the slightest burden on her mind was Caterina. She was smiling as though watching an amusing variety show, her gaze fixed on Christian and me.
As if urging me to hurry up and guess the identity of the second wine, she stared at me intently while putting a piece of steak into her mouth and chewing.
Chloe seemed to find that sight intolerable and glared at her with eyes blazing, but she didn’t say anything. She only held my hand tightly.
“Was my guess correct?”
“…You certainly possess considerable knowledge of wine. Yes, you’re correct.”
Before my regression, I had tasted enough wines while researching them to slap the cheek of any ordinary wine enthusiast. And if there was one difference between those wine enthusiasts and me, it was that they drank wine to enjoy it, while I drank it to study it.
To understand the perfect flavor of a single glass, I had deliberately sought out spoiled wines and failed vintages, then traced the causes of their flaws down to the molecular level. While wine enthusiasts were intoxicated by the prestige of a label, I compared the pH levels of the soil and rainfall data hidden behind that label.
Therefore, to me, tasting was not an enjoyment of the senses but part of an intense analytical process of reverse-engineering the data hidden inside the wine. So even before blind tasting was mentioned, I had already known what wine it was from the moment I drank it.
In conclusion, if it was a wine I had tasted before, it couldn’t escape my senses.
“I was lucky.”
This wasn’t modesty. It was closer to a provocation—that his test hadn’t been all that difficult.
Moueix put a piece of steak into his mouth, chewed slowly, and stared at me. He said nothing, but his eyes were clearly asking a question. Since I had guessed a fairly famous wine located close to Warren, he wanted me to reveal the identity of the second one as well.
“The second was quite difficult. The scent of wet earth and graphite rose roughly, and the texture in the mouth was coarse, but the moment it met the steak, it changed in an oddly smooth way while maintaining an elegant tension…”
“……”
“At first I was confused, but only after you suggested the blind tasting and I tried it again did I manage to recall the wine’s identity.”
For an instant, the corners of Christian’s eyes trembled faintly. Even he was surprised that I spoke as though certain of the answer without asking for the slightest hint this time either.
“You know?”
Seeing his genuine surprise, I became certain of my guess. After all, guessing the first wine at once and guessing the second wine were as different in difficulty as heaven and earth.
“When I thought carefully about why it was so difficult, the answer lay in the pairing.”
“……”
I pointed at the plate of steak that had been grilled to an astonishing degree of perfection.
“This steak had covered my palate. Only after excluding that and experiencing the wine again from the beginning did I realize it. This wine is from your neighboring region of Lalande-de-Pomerol, and among them, it should be Château Bellegrave. Am I right?”
At my words, he failed to maintain his composure for a moment and let out a hollow laugh.
“Haha… This is truly astonishing. Truly…”
The Château Bellegrave he had served was a daily wine that could be purchased on the market for only around 20 euros, roughly thirty thousand won.
However, Shafer Hillside Select, depending on the vintage, started at a minimum of 250 dollars and sometimes exceeded 400 dollars. Moreover, if one drank it in France, tariffs and premiums would naturally make it far more expensive. In reality, the price difference between these two wines ranged from dozens of times to as much as a hundredfold.
His meticulousness in throwing out a top-tier Napa Valley wine as the first wine, then selecting a daily-grade wine as the second, was truly enough to make one click their tongue. He had led me to assume the second wine would also naturally be of a high grade, then disturbed my palate with a rich steak. In effect, he had set two traps.
“As expected… I was right.”
When I ultimately won, Chloe immediately clapped in delight, then noticed the atmosphere and quickly lowered her hands. But she still couldn’t hide her joy and whispered to me.
“You killed it.”
“I was cool, wasn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
Seeing the two of us whispering like that, Caterina wore a strange smile.
“Stan Kroenke called you Napa Valley’s rising idol, and it seems he wasn’t wrong. To think you could guess a 20-euro daily wine… If I tell my father this story, he’ll be terribly regretful. He’ll lament the fact that he wasn’t here.”
Warren, on the other hand, said nothing and remained quiet. He knew very well just how upset the prideful King of Bordeaux must be right now.
He was a noble among the nobles of Bordeaux, and this was his castle. Yet he had taken a hit from the brats he had invited into that castle, so for him, there could be no greater humiliation.
Moreover, young brats were not known for keeping their mouths shut, and with Victor’s daughter here of all people, there was no doubt this rumor would soon spread beyond Bordeaux and across the entire world.
“Thank you for the fine meal today. Since it’s getting late, why don’t we take our leave?”
Warren led the conversation as if to end the gathering entirely. As though he had been waiting for those words, Christian spoke calmly.
“It seems I’ve kept my honored guests for too long. Since you said today was your first day here, it would be best for you to return and rest.”
“Thank you.”
When Warren rose from his seat, everyone else naturally stood as well. But I couldn’t leave just like that.
“I’ll have it prepared for tomorrow evening. It’s a meat dish with a different feel from steak, so I’m sure you’ll be quite satisfied.”
At my words, the corners of his eyes trembled faintly once more. He was angry.
“I look forward to it. Very well. I had wanted to visit Belle Epoque at least once as well.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I gave him a slight bow in the Korean manner and quickly left the place. His gaze was so fierce that it was burdensome to keep looking at him.
“Are you seriously planning to go up against Christian?”
Warren asked as soon as we got into the car.
“Are you worried?”
“He is the King of Bordeaux. That means he holds that much power, but it also means his influence is enormous. I’m just concerned you may be clashing with him too strongly.”
“I know, but… I don’t want to lose. You faced them head-on and won, didn’t you, sir?”
That was a fact no one could deny. The man who had screwed over French wine twice was none other than Warren Winiarski.
“That’s true, but…”
“Look at today too. He deliberately set the stage to make trouble for me and tried to lure me into a trap. I’ll show him. That we aren’t people he can look down on so easily.”
“…After I won the Judgment of Paris, I gained great fame as well. But I received just as much restraint in return. They constantly moved critics around, trying to find even the smallest mistake.”
“If you’re going to reach the top anyway, heavy restraint is inevitable. If anything, this works out well. Receiving a lot of attention means building many narratives around Château Belle Epoque, and that story means the white wine to come later can be recognized for great value.”
“If you’re that prepared, then fine. But what are you planning to do against him tomorrow? If it’s simply blind tasting, it won’t be easy.”
“Well. I’ll think about it.”
I merely smiled faintly.
---
Time passed quickly, and it was already the next evening.
In the dining hall of Château Belle Epoque, the sweet and savory aroma of soy sauce and sugar caramelizing in hot flames spread gently through the air. It was the scent of Korean-style galbijjim.
Christian Moueix, who had engaged in an invisible war of nerves with me yesterday, sat before the neatly arranged table with a puzzled expression.
“This is… a scent I’ve never encountered before. It looks like boeuf bourguignon… Did you cook it yourself, Mr. Brian?”
“When hosting a master of Bordeaux, how could my own sincerity be absent? This is galbijjim, a traditional Korean dish. It’s a dish in which beef is cooked for a long time at a low temperature to soften the protein, so you’ll experience a texture different from yesterday’s steak.”
I personally ladled out the ribs and placed them on his plate. Then, just like Moueix had done yesterday, I set out a transparent decanter. The red wine inside shimmered with a ruby light.
Moueix put a piece of galbijjim into his mouth with curious eyes. He used a fork instead of chopsticks, but the meat tore softly along the grain. At the harmony of rich juices bursting in his mouth and the sweet seasoning, his eyes twitched faintly.
“Astonishing. To think such complex umami could be trapped within the texture of meat… It seems stimulating, yet the aftertaste is remarkably deep.”
He murmured in admiration and naturally picked up the glass containing the red wine. Though he instinctively knew this was revenge for the test he had thrown at me yesterday, his hand was filled with the confidence befitting a master. He gently swirled the glass and smelled the aroma.
But at that moment, Moueix’s expression stiffened strangely.
He inhaled deeply once more. He shook the glass, held it up to the light, and carefully took a sip. As he rolled the wine around in his mouth, the space between his brows narrowed more and more. A silence tinged with bewilderment stretched on.
Seeing his confusion, I spoke calmly.
“I imagine it will be difficult for you to guess the answer. So I’d like to give you one hint.”
When I said I would give him a hint without him even asking, Christian’s face stiffened further. Yet at my hint, bewilderment rose over the face that had gone rigid.
“You only need to guess the region of this wine.”
“You’re saying I only need to guess the region?”
“Yes. This wine hasn’t been released, you see. Could you at least identify which region’s wine it is?”
That was far easier than asking him to identify a released wine. His pride clearly should have been wounded, yet Christian narrowed his brows with a complicated expression.
After a long time passed, he opened his mouth with difficulty.
“A wine that imitates the Bordeaux style with Napa Valley techniques… let’s leave it at that. The region is probably America, yes? Bordeaux soil doesn’t give this kind of cold, precise impression.”
At his answer, I smiled faintly and brought out the old cork hidden behind the decanter.
“You’re wrong, Mr. Christian. This wine was grown one hundred percent in the soil of Bordeaux. To be precise, it was made from Merlot grown here at Belle Epoque.”
In that instant, Christian’s eyes shook violently, as though he had seen a ghost.