'Cocktail Potion' by Transworld Transfer Bartenders

The temperature in the factory is not as high as it might seem in winter.

The heat of steaming is unique to the space for booze, not people. A unique wheaty sweet aroma and a hint of alcohol shake my brain.

Inside the factory, after all, it wasn't what I imagined.

But I guess that's only because I have the image of a modern factory.

Maybe more people paint these images when it comes to beer mills.

It's the tank that catches my eye.

That's not that big of a deal either. Horizontal and horizontal. Yeah. Metric is likely a large trough.

Probably a tank for carrying out fermentation. It is precisely in that that the sugar in the malt is now transformed into alcohol by yeast.

Other things you can see are cauldrons that are on fire or people that are glittering when they see that fire.

who is rolling and carrying what looks like a barrel for storage.

Someone who works hard to stir the contents of the tank while wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Is that about what you see in one of the big warehouses, and are the other tasks being done in the other warehouses?

The way beer and whiskey are manufactured is very similar.

Whiskey ingredients and processes such as fermentation and distillation are as described, but beer is generally no different.

To be boiled once before fermentation, at which time hops of bitter ingredients shall be added.

Except for that, the procedure to distillation may be seen as approximately the same.

The biggest difference is that we still don't distill it.

Modernly speaking, after fermentation once, it is often shipped through the process of aging to ferment again.

In this world, I don't know if it's going that far.

I'm a bartender and I'm not that familiar with liquor.

"... what are you guys"

As we stood and blurred at the entrance, an old man with deep wrinkles carved into his face called out.

From what I've seen, are you in the late sixties when you were old? He was dressed in a lot of old work clothes, wearing a hat on his gray head, and staring at us in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry to ask you all of a sudden. Actually, we're from White Oak."

For once, I leave the first greeting on this occasion to Albao. Because he's the only one in this who can say he's purely a 'white oak' person.

"I say Albao Graysnor at Holly Oakrow Laboratory,"

Albao bows his head with a peck. The old man turned a sharp gaze at me and Guinura as well as Albao before asking.

"Honestly, what's a famous potion shop doing here?

"Actually, I wanted to use your help with our new experiment."

"Experiment."

After chilling out the word, the old man introduces himself.

"I am Mesa Auguén, the head of this factory."

Old Mesa answered with a slightly squeamish voice and then saw us again as Girosilo.

And point and ask me and Guinura.

"You guys, aren't you from around here?

I was a little surprised to be told. My appearance will be easy to understand because it's different from the people in this country.

But from my eyes, I don't think there's that much difference in shaping between Guinura and the people around here.

"Yes. You made a good point. I am Evening Mist Total. This blonde is Guinura Sansi. We both came from the south to train."

"... Regards, Please"

Speak their own names while I affirm them.

And Guinura is completely atrophied by the sharp eyes of this old Mesa man. As always......

"Oh, good. I'll listen to you for as long as I can. You've come all the way here."

The old man who told us to wait a minute is catching a young man in the factory and telling us something.

When that was done, he invited us into the back of the factory.

We were put through something like a reception room.

If Appalachian's room sounded like a potion store, this room seemed like a 'liquor store'.

The bottle shelves lined up on the walls are the same, but all seem empty in contents. There are other glasses lined up on the shelves, some of which concern me.

It's wheat in a vial. It has a label on it and, along with the region of origin, the characteristics appear to be written in detail.

The old man sat on the couch at the table in the middle of one of the rooms and urged us to sit on the other side. The seating arrangement is with Albao in the middle. That's it.

Where we settle down, the old man starts the conversation.

"So, do you listen? I don't know what your purpose is."

"Yes. Actually, we're working on the fifth attribute right now."

"'Fifth Attribute'? What does that have to do with us?"

Old Mesa narrows her eyes surprisingly to Albao's answer and deepens the wrinkles carved into her forehead.

The tone of the voice remains stiff, Arbao replies.

"I'd like you to divide the 'malt' that you're making for that experiment."

In one breath, Albao briefly conveyed the request.

We'll wait for old Mesa's answer.

The old man's face remained harsh and well distorted.

"'Malt'. Hey, there's the yellow one."

"... eh, is that me?

"It's you, you. Is there a yellow one besides you?"

They say it's yellow, and the blonde Ginula is a little mucky.

but really a little and waited for the old man's words as they atrophied quickly.

"What do you think malt is?

Such a question, old man, bumping into Guinura.

Ginulla, huh? and changed his expression only for a moment, I said.

"I'm still knowledgeable. The malt must be in the state where the wheat was germinated."

"... is that all?

The old man seemed badly discouraged by Guinura's response, which he had no intention of drawing on at all.

"Malt. It's important to us. This one changes everything. Even a fraction of the process of making ales. Of course, it's not just malt. I give my soul to everything. Yes, from start to finish, from malt to ale. All our souls."

After a deep sigh, the old man stared at us with a guillotine.

"All of a sudden, I don't know anything. I'm going to use it for experiments, so divide your soul. Me. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

"... Well, if you're worried about the experiment, explain it to me."

"You're not."

Albao is also in a hurry for a slightly unmeshed response, and the old man sighs even more.

"You guys aren't coming to this place to chill. I don't know the difference in taste. We won't let you get involved in the work. You don't know the malt yet."

Both Guinura and Albao drooled their heads slightly over the words of this old man.

But my last words seemed like his message.

"Does that mean that if you can tell the difference in taste, you'll think about it?

Old Mesa opens her mouth when I get up a little bit.

And then he crooked his nipples and said to me.

"I knew it was you. Yellow is out of the question. The stiff one over there is a bee. But you're not the only one. When I walked into the room, I saw the wheat."

"... I was curious. That much wheat. I was wondering how long it would take to be able to identify that difference."

Beer in this world, not yet.

But that's a lot to talk about outside technology.

The immaturity is due to the difficulty of raising or lowering temperatures or stabilizing them backed by modern science.

Not without enthusiasm. We can't keep up with technology with enthusiasm.

It cannot be helped that distillation technology has not developed. That's the kind of world I give up.

But until brewing technology, 'Once upon a time I', easily truncated, was foolish enough to be super attached.

I had not been able to imagine the thoughts put in the booze.

But not now. I remember.

Now I'm making cocktails out of potions.

I never forgot the other booze.

"Nice eye. I made it ready, but I'm glad it didn't go to waste."

Old Mesa told us to wait a little while longer and left the room.

We were all left in the room and exhaled a little.

"Sorry total. I was just nervous."

"He said I didn't have to apologize. I couldn't help but feel like an oppressive interview. Besides, he was going to do this from the beginning."

People who suddenly say weird things to people who don't know anything, and yes, they do, will rarely respond.

But that guy, he seems like a good guy.

I think we were buying a young man the courage to step into this place.

"So, it's yellow. Why are you dying so much?

"Ho, leave me alone. I've been intolerant of sharp old men."

Apparently, Guinura's weakness turned out to be one. No, I can't use it effectively because it's full of weaknesses.

That's how we loosen our shoulders a little, and the old Mesa returns.

In his hand, three bottles were held. It's brown and I don't see the color inside.

Each one of them is good and cold. I can tell that by the frost on the bottle. Maybe this factory has a refrigerator, maybe because it's winter.

"Glass is good with you, right?

"... Yes, I'm fine"

I saw Guinura for a moment, and I don't like the same glass as this one, I thought, don't tell me.

Old Mesa puts a bottle on the table and then prepares a glass.

After that, I lined those three up nicely and opened the bottle.

The first bottle, from me, is in the glass on the left.

A second bottle, a glass in the center.

Then pour the third bottle into the glass to the right from me.

Each of the lined glasses contained a different shade of liquid.

The base is wheat, but in order from left.

White, orange, black.

The old man who prepared it said, now spread his arms.

"Guess what. What's so different about each of these?"

Its eyes, while sharp, also seemed to dwell in the light of anticipation.