Reborn As A Beastman With A System

On the fifth floor of the ancient stone tower, Logan gently laid Jean on the bed, tucking her beneath a warm, woven quilt. The room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a single candle, casting shadows on the walls.

This naive woman, a disbeliever in the strength of the liquor, had guzzled the potent brew without a second thought. The concoction was a formidable blend, boasting an alcohol content of 227 degrees. It took her barely two minutes to succumb to its strength, collapsing unconscious into his arms.

...

When Logan returned to the bustling kitchen, steam roared from the pipes of the four massive stills, hissing like the vents of a boiling pots. He had chosen rice as the base for his distillation not only for its superior quality but also for its remarkable efficiency in alcohol production, yielding up to 97%.

In simpler terms, a hundred kilograms of rice could transform into ninety-seven kilograms of fiery rice liquor, a feat unmatched by any other grain.

Dipping his fingers into the liquid, Logan tested the latest batch of his brew. The alcohol content hovered between 50 to 60 degrees, indicating that the first distillation was nearing completion.

"Change the wine barrel!" he commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

At his behest, Cardia and her two assistants scurried to fetch new barrels, swapping them out with practiced ease.

"Do you want to have a taste?" Logan offered, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he addressed Cardia and the assembled crowd of beastmen.

"No, thank you!"

"We'll pass!"

Their voices chimed in unison, their bodies shaking like leaves in the wind. They all remembered Jean's abrupt downfall.

"It's alright," Logan reassured them, chuckling softly. "I've refined the first distillate; it's much milder now. You may try it."

He gestured to Cardia, "Distribute two taels of the liquor to each—just a taste."

This wasn't stinginess on Logan' part but practicality; the orcs were numerous, and this was their initial sampling. Any more might prove too much for their unaccustomed palates.

"It smells incredible!" The crowd exclaimed, their noses twitching as the aroma of the distilled rice wine filled the air, rich and enticing.

Even from the fragrance alone, drool pooled on eager tongues.

"How is it?" Logan turned to Tyton, whose legendary tolerance was renowned among them, perhaps due to his storied past..

After all, for the ordinary tribal beastman, the chance to indulge in alcohol came but once or twice a year.

"It's incredibly strong!" Tyton exclaimed, his features contorting slightly from the intensity of the drink. The liquid seemed to ignite a fire down his throat and into his stomach.

"Yet, it has such a wonderful scent!"

"Too strong for you?" Logan chuckled lightly, shaking his head in amusement. "This brew isn't particularly strong. You're just unaccustomed to it. The fiercest liquor are typically made from potato, not rice."

"And what do you think now?" Logan prodded further.

After rolling the liquor around his mouth, Tyton responded, "It leaves a sweet aftertaste and has a rich aroma, quite distinct. It's smoother and carries deeper flavors than regular brew or wheat wines."

"Exactly," Logan nodded, pleased. "It's the sweetness, the mellowness, and the delightful finish that define this rice liquor."

Just then, a loud "Plop!" abruptly interrupted their conversation. Turning around, they saw chaos unfurling: most of the gathering lay scattered, overwhelmed by the drink, with only a few werewolves and boar-folk still upright.

The source of the noise was the quillboar Gava, now sprawled out cold on the ground. Nearby, Cadia, cheeks flushed a deep red, was unintentionally draped over him, likely oblivious to her companion's identity in her inebriated state.

Logan couldn't suppress a laugh at the sight.

The 50-60% alcohol content was evidently still too much for many!

As time ticked by, it was about three hours later that the four steamers finally began to produce the tail wine.

The tail wine, or 'pot water' as it's known, is the last to flow during distillation. These spirits are generally weaker, below 40 proof, and are noted for their poorer taste, cloudiness, and strong odor.

Only skilled winemakers dare to attempt blending such wines, as it requires precision and expertise to avoid disaster. Consequently, many distilleries opt to discard this lower-grade liquor, deeming it unfit for consumption.

Logan, ever pragmatic, chose to collect the tail wine despite its lesser quality. While not ideal for immediate consumption, these wines could still be sold as lower-grade products or reserved for re-distillation into a more palatable liquor.

As for the head or the first cut of the distillation, often discarded by others, Logan saw potential. Unsure of mixing it directly with the main batch, he contemplated saving it for blending with the later wine or even distilling it a second time.

The main wine, though initially harsh, held its own value. Over time, it could transform into a high-end cooking wine, perfect for culinary use, such as marinating or pickling foods, thanks to its robust flavor.

As the day wore on and the distillation process concluded, night began to cast its shadow across the land.

Logan tallied the total yield: 154 kilograms of wine. Factoring in the amount consumed by his clan, they had processed about 170 kilograms in total. This included roughly 13-14 kilograms of head wine and about 20 kilograms of tail wine, leaving around 130 kilograms of the prime middle cut.

From 200 kilograms of rice, they had managed to extract 170 kilograms of wine, achieving an impressive yield rate of 85%. This high yield, he mused, was due to the rice variety, although he had opted for a cheaper type, better grains could potentially increase the yield further.

After tidying up the distillery with Tyton, Logan's stomach rumbled loudly; they hadn't eaten since morning. Unfortunately, the werewolves who usually handled the cooking were still asleep, groggy from the wine.

"How about I check for any open eateries nearby? I could grab something for us," Tyton suggested, his own stomach growling in agreement.

"Sounds good to me!" Logan replied.

...

Back on the fifth floor, Logan returned to the room where Jean lay. She was still unconscious, the potent alcohol lingering in her system. He guessed that she might not awaken until the next morning.

Now faced with the dilemma of where to sleep, he mused ruefully, "We certainly can't share a bed, we're not married yet!"

Logan awoke with a start, his senses clouded as if swarmed by a buzzing confusion. As his eyes struggled to focus, he caught sight of Jean's gleaming emerald eyes staring straight into his.

"You're awake!" Jean's voice was a soft, melodious whisper, laced with relief.

Logan managed a groggy nod. "Yeah!"

"Don't wiggle about like an insect, try to sleep peacefully!" Logan said as he gently stroked Jean's soft, furry ears, his own eyes fluttering shut once more.

"Do you even remember what you did last night?" Jean teased, ceasing her playful squirming to nibble on Logan's striking white-and-blue mane, tugging at it lightly with her mouth.

Logan cracked open an eye, shot her a weary look, and let it fall shut again. "Considering I'm still fully clothed, I doubt it was anything noteworthy."

"Hmph, you're no fun!" Jean pouted, puffing her cheeks and playfully pounding her fists twice against his chest as she moved to lay on top of him.

"Stay still!"

The warm scent of Jean's skin enveloped Logan, wrapping him in comfort.

"By the way, is the sun up yet?"

"It's been up; it's nearly noon!" Jean giggled, her laughter filling the room with light.

"Nearly noon?" Logan bolted upright in disbelief, swiftly slipping his hand from around Jean's waist to leap out of bed and fling open the window. The sun hovered low, hinting at evening rather than midday.

"Damn it, no wonder I'm starving!" he cursed.

He had planned to sell wine today. Half the day wasted.

"Get up, aren't you hungry?" Logan tossed back the quilt and tugged Jean to her feet.

"I'm not really hungry, let's just sleep some more," Jean murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

Logan steadied her with a quick embrace and planted a kiss on her cheek. "No more dawdling, I'm famished!"

"Alright, but tonight..." Jean trailed off with a mischievous glint in her eye, hinting at plans yet to unfold.

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