Managers' Crown Episode 12: The Managers' Crown

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“Eek! Why, why do they wanna meet?”

Are they reporting mission complete or something? But do they really need to see my face for that? Don't they know about non-face-to-face these days? There are still people clinging to outdated in-person meetings. In the AI era, do we have to stick to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠old ways? Can't we just handle our own tasks remotely? I can't figure out why these mascot-masked folks are so obsessed with bureaucracy.

That's way too harsh for a shut-in like me! I desperately brainstormed excuses to refuse.

Jobs where in-person is unavoidable are sadly field work. If I had to classify, the managers were close to field workers. They'd just finished working hard on-site and enjoying their delightful “meal.” Yeah, if they're field staff, visiting HQ to report up the chain makes sense.

The problem? I'd witnessed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their delightful meal scene.

Honestly, it's too damn scary!

Anything grotesque might spark some curiosity, but this transcended normal grotesquery. They called me “king,” so I'm probably their superior, but how could I not hesitate after seeing that horror show? On the flip side, if I refused and they held a grudge? Could I handle that?

I hesitated for a long while, then spotted Jangbi floating blankly beside me. A head bigger than a person's body. No idea where he pawned his torso, but the guy always drifted around head-only. And that brutal face of his. Thinking about it, having this freak right next to me made my preemptive fear seem ridiculous.

Would a king fear his own vassal? Plus, I trusted Jangbi to back me up like before, no matter what.

“Jangbi, you're stronger than those managers, right?”

“Of course, my liege!” Jangbi bellowed with total confidence.

“I am your right arm, your trusted retainer, a loyal warrior! Would I fear a million-strong army? Kkeh-heh-heh!”

“Whoa, our Jangbi's amazing. So even if you fought all the managers at once, you'd win, right?”

“Pardon? Not one-on-one, but one against many?”

I gazed at Jangbi with moist, expectant eyes.

“You could do it, right? You'd win, yeah? I'm really counting on you.”

“……”

Jangbi slyly glanced at the CCTV.

“The managers are coming. They'll arrive soon.”

“Hey, why dodge the question?”

“For your first meeting with the vassals, shall this one coordinate an outfit befitting my liege?”

This bastard… Now I get why you're worth 100 million won.

Ding-dong—.

The doorbell rang right on cue—before I'd even selected “Yes” in the system. The managers had shown up on their own terms.

“My liege, shall this one open the door?”

I shook my head at Jangbi's question.

“Nah, the place is cramped anyway. No need for them to come in. I'll go out.”

I'd steeled my resolve completely. If Jangbi was my vassal, what was there to fear from mascot costumes? Outwardly, they were cute plush outfits. Whatever lurked inside wasn't my business. Like how looks matter more than inner thoughts for people— if it looks cute on the surface, we're good.

Click—.

I undid the double locks and turned the knob. The hinges were loose from when Jangbi had slammed into the door earlier to save me from the Black Orc.

What's the point of double locks like this?

Stepping out, I saw the security guard uncle at the front, with the mascots lined up in two neat rows behind him. His uniform was splattered with bloodstains here and there, and the mascot dolls were streaked with gore too. It looked straight out of a B-horror flick.

Ugh… kinda creepy.

I turned to the security guard uncle at the front. He wore an exaggerated, artificial smile plastered on his face. Pity welled up suddenly. We'd shared smokes sometimes, and he'd ramble about his kids— I'd let it go in one ear and out the other, but he seemed like a typical kind, good-hearted family man.

How'd he end up like this? So tragic.

Aigoo, uncle… what kinda late-life disaster is this?

But was that even the uncle I knew? Or some other monster wearing his skin?

Eek! Stop thinking.

Digging deeper just eroded my sanity unpleasantly, so I shut it down.

Unaware of my thoughts, the uncle bowed 90 degrees to me.

“Meeting. Permitted. Eternal. Honor. Gratitude.”

At his lead, the mascots behind chorused as one, bending at the waist.

“Eternal. Honor. Gratitude.”

No emotion, just word combos. More like an echo in a cave than language.

“This is. The king's. Crown. Offering. To the king.”

The uncle held out a paper box from his arms. A ramen box.

“Crown?”

Crown! The ultimate symbol of kingly power and prestige!

Anyway, it's gotta be good! My heart pounded with anticipation. The initial fear was long gone. From the situation, these guys were all my subjects anyway. A king fearing his vassals? Nah, ruins the vibe.

As I reached to open the box with excitement, Jangbi's massive mugface smooshed right up to me.

“My liege! Abyss creatures are truly grotesque and horrific. Behold, doesn't it look repulsive at first glance? When dealing with them, always caution, utmost caution.”

“……”

He'd meant to whisper, but his thunderous voice broadcast it to everyone. Some whisper.

I shot Jangbi a pitying look.

You're the most grotesque and repulsive one here…

“Anyway, why's a crown in a ramen box?”

I'm usually considerate, but this was too much. Even in practical times, you don't carry a king's symbol in a ramen box. There's such a thing as decorum.

My complaint barely landed when the uncle's eyes bulged freakishly up past his brows. He whipped around and glared murderously at the squirrel-masked one behind him. The squirrel mask panicked, twisting its body and stamping its feet helplessly.

Looked like the squirrel had packed the crown in the ramen box.

Swallowing my hype, I peeled the tape off the ramen box with feigned enthusiasm. I expected dazzling golden light or jewel gleam from the logo-printed gap.

Kingly authority! Symbol above all! An ultra-lux accessory to make me forget that 8.3 billion monthly debt in one shot!

But what greeted my eyes from the box wasn't radiance.

Fur.

Soft, fluffy ochre furball.

“……Huh?”

I blankly lifted it out.

“This is the crown?”

Inside wasn't a crown—it was an animal cosplay hood. The cute hat part of kids' or women's hooded pajamas. They'd detached just the hood.

Snow leopard-inspired, but instead of sleek silver-gray fur, it was covered in puffy, fresh-baked-bread-like ochre fluff. So soft and plush, you worried it'd clump if touched. And atop the hood, two adorable ears perked up perkily.

They'd stuffed it so full of cotton the forehead puffed out. Meant to look majestic, maybe, but to me it was just a “swollen cat.”

Overall, clearly a luxury “animal pajama” hood, hand-stitched by artisans.

“Th-this… is the crown?”

My voice cracked with disappointment.

Misreading my shock and letdown, the front-line uncle grinned artificially and reached out.

“Offering. Packaging. Defective. Apologies. But contents. Genuine. Fits the king. Don it. Now.”

He snatched the ochre leopard hood from my hands and jammed it on my head before I could protest.

“W-wait…!”

Tsztzt—.

The moment it touched my head, a creepy friction sound rang out. The fabric of my black hoodie writhed like a living thing, veins fusing it to the hood's hem.

In seconds, hoodie and hood became one seamless unit.

As king, my dignity is…

Deep disappointment drooped my head. My last fantasy of a golden crown shattered by a cotton puff hat.

Then, a cheery system chime pinged in my ears.

“Hm?”

I snapped my head up as status text filled my vision densely.