In a back alley of Tokyo’s Ginza, in a private room of Kagawa, an old-fashioned ryotei that seemed to have continued down from the Edo period, the faint scent of fragrant wood and the sound of water flowing in the garden made the quiet space feel even more dignified.
Hirose Takashi, the godfather of Japan’s wine industry, spoke to the Asian man seated across from him, Woody Choi. The middle-aged woman sitting beside Woody interpreted for them.
“Thank you very much for responding so quickly to the email I sent.”
“There would be no reason for us to hesitate over a meeting with a wine distributor showing interest in our Redwood.”
Hirose, wearing a faint smile, sat in seiza and toyed with his teacup before looking at the other man with a forceful gaze.
“First, I would like to ask for your impressions of Japan.”
“I assume you’re not simply asking about Japan’s atmosphere and scenery...?”
“Haha, that’s right. I was curious what thoughts you had about the Japanese wine market... and what thoughts came to you after coming from Napa to Japan.”
In his intense gaze, there was no trace of the desperation he had shown when sending the email the day before. He was not foolish enough to reveal his true feelings to the other party as they were.
The question now was a kind of sounding out. It was an attitude meant to confirm whether the other man was simply a farmer lucky enough to have a genius son, or a partner with whom business could be discussed.
Woody started to bring the teacup to his lips, then stopped, stared straight into Hirose’s eyes, and set it back down.
“My impressions of the market... Chairman Hirose, to be honest, I don’t know much about wine. My son is the one who knows wine. So I’m not very good at the refined expressions wine lovers use.”
At the words that, in short, meant he did not know how to speak in circles, Hirose’s eyes wavered.
“Koreans’ aggressive sales style can be bewildering at times, but there are moments when I envy it. That makes me all the more curious. What sort of thing will you say?”
“Haha, it’s nothing grand. I was originally a merchant, and from a merchant’s point of view, the Japanese market feels rather... full of vanity? That’s the impression I get.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“This place, where French wine is regarded as the best, gave me the feeling that people drink it simply because others say it’s good, because it’s expensive.
Using wine as a means to show off one’s wealth and knowledge is the same wherever you go, but the feeling was stronger in Tokyo.
Perhaps because of that, the market felt stagnant. In fact, the growth rate of the wine market has entered a long-term slump.”
When he directly mentioned the long-term stagnation of Japan’s wine market, Hirose’s expression stiffened slightly. In truth, since the red wine boom that had swept Japan before the millennium, the Japanese wine market’s annual consumption had been trapped for nearly ten years at a certain level in an L-shaped pattern.
At that moment, Woody suddenly leaned his upper body toward the table where Hirose sat. At the force with which he pushed in without hesitation, Hirose almost found himself leaning back without realizing it.
“So... isn’t it true that you, Chairman, also need one decisive blow to break through this situation? You must know that those expensive wines laid out in Enoteca stores are, in truth, being treated like outdated home appliances whose fad has passed.
It’s not that those wines have no value. People have gotten used to them. After all, the people who would show them off have already done so. Something to awaken this stagnant market...”
Woody spoke as if he had stepped directly into Hirose’s mind and come back out.
“From that perspective, a Grand Cru costing several million yen a bottle won’t be of much help. It’s so expensive that while the public may feel curiosity, they won’t go through the trouble of visiting a store for it.
As it happens, after the Japan-Chile Economic Partnership Agreement was concluded last year, Chilean wine entered the market with tariff-free prices as its weapon, but the quality is...”
“It is true that it is far lacking.”
Although Chilean wine was encroaching on the market at low prices, it was by no means the wine Hirose wanted.
“But Napa Valley wine would be different. As it happens, the manga Drops of God also treated Napa Valley wine positively.”
“You read the manga?”
“Only the part where Napa Valley appeared.”
“Hmm...”
“The price is quite different from low-priced wines in the several-thousand-yen range, so an ordinary salaryman would have to make up his mind before buying and drinking Redwood wines such as Echelon, Sylphid, or Quiet Hill. As for Astra Vale... it would only be possible for people with some money.
But even so, it is not so expensive as to be comparable to a French Grand Cru. Isn’t it exactly the kind of price range that would be good for drawing interest in the market?”
At this point, Hirose decided to stop probing the other man.
“That’s right. Redwood’s entry into Japan has certainly drawn our interest. However... there is one thing I find regrettable.”
“Regrettable?”
“The cherry marketing was excellent. I didn’t expect Itochu to be capable of such clever scheming. But President Choi, wine is different from cherries.
In particular, for cult-oriented wine like Redwood, the distribution channel is the very life of the brand. I heard rumors that you would use convenience store payment networks for pre-order sales... Surely you do not intend to sell even Astra Vale in that manner?”
“That is true. We merely used Itochu as a means of transportation. If Enoteca wants to supply our wines... I’m sorry, but I can say that only Astra Vale would be possible.”
Selling through Enoteca might have been more convenient, but what Woody wanted was data on the Japanese people who wanted the wine. Astra Vale was different because it had to maintain its high-price policy.
On the other hand, Hirose of Enoteca had no dissatisfaction at all even if he could bring in only Astra Vale. What he wanted was a cult wine capable of shocking the market.
“That alone is sufficient.”
“However...”
At Woody’s sudden attitude, as though laying down a condition, Hirose’s brow twitched.
“We demand Enoteca’s stores nationwide, and among them, the best-positioned main showcase. If you place Redwood’s Astra Vale in the spot where Château Mouton Rothschild or Domaine de la Romanée-Conti sat, then we will do business.
That is our condition for joining hands with Enoteca.”
Hirose let out a hollow laugh.
“Haha, President Choi. Beside Mouton Rothschild? Japanese consumers care about a brand’s pedigree. Redwood is merely a newcomer that has only just begun to sprout.”
“Pedigree... When Stag’s Leap defeated Mouton Rothschild at the 1976 Judgment of Paris, people around the world said the same thing. And now my son Brian is recognized as the official successor of that Warren Winiarski.
I wonder what Japan’s Drops of God readers will choose between an old pedigree and a new legend.”
“......”
With Warren Winiarski joining Redwood, regardless of the circumstances behind it, rumors had been circulating that Brian was practically Warren’s official successor.
In truth, this was a situation difficult to refute. Warren’s sons were focusing on real estate rather than the wine world, and while he did have his own personal vineyard, it was a fairly famous story in Napa Valley that he practically lived at Redwood.
“I acknowledge that Enoteca may hold a different view.”
“... Very well. We will consider assigning the main showcase. In return, we also have a condition. Enoteca must exclusively receive at least 70 percent of Astra Vale’s annual allocation within Japan.”
“Seventy percent, is it? I’ll have to discuss that with Brian. As you know, emails are pouring in from all over the world. Ah, and I heard an interview request came in from Korea as well.”
“Korea?”
Wariness appeared in Hirose’s eyes. There was a limit to the amount of wine released in a year, so the variable of Korea was not a welcome one.
“I don’t know why the interview request came in, but the sooner you make your decision, Chairman, the better.”
Watching the middle-aged man grin broadly, Hirose gave a bitter smile. He had obtained what he wanted, yet it felt as though the result was not one hundred percent satisfying.
The arrivals hall of San Francisco International Airport was bustling with people of various nationalities from early morning. Amid the crowd, two Koreans carrying a large camera bag and a tripod stood out in particular.
They were producer and reporter Kim Sujin of the terrestrial broadcaster KSC’s program Success Era, and Director Park.
“Ugh, I’m dying. I wonder when I’ll ever get used to being on a plane for more than ten hours.”
Director Park grumbled as he rolled his stiff neck. But the eyes of Reporter Kim beside him were sparkling, as if she felt not the slightest bit tired.
“A business trip to America... This is so great. The weather’s amazing too, isn’t it?”
She seemed delighted simply by the fact that she had come to America.
“The weather’s nice in Korea in May too.”
“Look at the sky. Not a single cloud. How beautiful do you think the beaches are?”
“......”
“Let’s go.”
As soon as she left the arrival gate, she headed familiarly toward the rental car company and spoke.
“Aren’t you excited? My goodness, the protagonist of Drops of God is Korean...”
“Isn’t the protagonist Japanese?”
“No... I mean, given the current situation, the protagonist of the wine world is Korean. You should understand what I mean right away.”
“Ahem...”
“In any case, this is a scoop that our Success Era’s fate depends on. A Korean being a world-class winemaker...”
Reporter Kim sank into the seat of the rental car and recalled the incident that had shaken Korea just a week earlier.
It had begun with an anonymous post uploaded to a wine community. In 2008, Korea was a time when wine, under the influence of the manga, had begun to become trendy and was establishing itself as a symbol of intellectual vanity and wealth.
The post contained an eyewitness account from a closed auction house in Napa Valley, saying that the owner of Harlan Estate had drunk a Korean-American young man’s wine and been astonished, along with information that the young man was only in his mid-twenties and which winery it was.
While major domestic distributors set out to verify the truth, thinking surely it couldn’t be, Reporter Kim used her unique animal-like instincts to dig through local sources in Napa Valley and found a person named Brian Choi.
“Director, it’ll take about two hours to get to Napa Valley. Set up the camera again on the way. We need to capture the image of a solitary genius against the backdrop of a sunny vineyard.”
Just thinking about it, the picture was killer. And it was also regrettable that such a talent had become an American.
As the rental car left San Francisco and entered Route 12, dazzling Californian vineyards unfolded outside the window. At the sight of an expanse and refined wineries on an entirely different level from Korea’s fields and paddies, the two grew even more excited.
“Wow, Reporter Kim. Look over there. It looks like some movie set. If you made wine in a place like that, it really would be art, wouldn’t it?”
Leaving Director Park’s admiration behind, the car finally passed the sign for Redwood Winery.
“We’re finally here. All right, now let’s make ourselves a picture.”
The two got out of the car and were gathering their equipment when, from among the vineyards behind the building, an old man trudged out. His face was darkly tanned by the sun, he wore an old checkered shirt smeared with dust, and in his hand he carried a bent pair of pruning shears.
No matter who looked at him, he appeared to be the typical farmhand who had spent his entire life in the fields.
The old man stopped walking as if puzzled by the appearance of outsiders, and stared intently at Reporter Kim and her party.
“Hey, Director. Try shooting that grandfather in the background. If we insert him midway through the interview with a feeling like ‘the humble worker of Napa Valley,’ it’ll be perfect.”
Reporter Kim gave the old man a perfunctory bow and asked him in clumsy English.
“Excuse me, grandfather? Is President Brian Choi here? We’re from Korean television.”
Instead of answering, the old man smiled kindly and pointed with his finger toward the winery’s main oak doors. Then he bent down again and began tending to the grapevines.
“Whew, looks like he can’t speak English either. Director, if we get a shot later of him eating a field snack or something, it’ll help the ratings. It’ll feel real and nice.”
Reporter Kim passed by the old man and strode confidently into the building. She had no idea that the old man she had just brushed past while talking about filming him eating a field snack was Warren Winiarski, the living legend who had rewritten the history of wine around the world with the 1976 Judgment of Paris.