Hell and Everyday Life [6]
How many days had passed since my countryside house was completed? The peace of burying myself in the sofa, enjoying my rest as usual, was shattered by a very regular and polite knock at the front door.
"Pardon the intrusion. Good morning, master of Sloth."
The woman who appeared was dressed in a sleek black robe that clung to her like a tailored suit. Her sharp glasses gleamed with an intellectual shine, giving off the vibe of a massive corporation's CEO as she stepped into the living room.
She stood before me, offering a light bow, and spoke in a voice that was utterly businesslike yet elegantly refined.
"A pleasure to meet you. I am Mamon, the Demon of Greed. I've taken the liberty of visiting to congratulate the birth of a new 'Absolute One'—and to make a very enticing proposal."
The woman who called herself Mamon scanned the house's structure and systems perfectly with just a single glance the moment she entered.
"This architectural style, and the spatial efficiency. The information density is worlds apart from Hell's crude stone hovels. Sloth, hand over that 'knowledge' you possess. In exchange, I'll guarantee you the perfect rest you desire."
She demanded the knowledge with greedy yet polite insistence. Still sunk deep into the sofa, I stared at her blankly. What a hassle. Explaining the knowledge, dealing with her point by point. But then, a amusing thought flickered through my mind.
If I played this ruthlessly competent-looking woman right, I could solve my hassles permanently.
"Forget this—I'll give you even better knowledge. In return, do one job with me."
"A job? I only want your knowledge."
I tossed out the bait to her as she adjusted her glasses.
"This knowledge comes with unimaginable wealth and power you can't even dream of. This house you're eyeing now? It'll seem like nothing."
"……! Is that true? Very well. What must I do?"
Mamon's eyes flashed golden in an instant. I grinned and pointed out the window at the barren Hell beyond.
"I'm thinking of remodeling all of Hell. Look at it now. Scorching heat, active volcanoes, choking stench. This extreme environment designed purely for tormenting souls leaves the high demons bored out of their minds."
I continued.
"So you're going to 'modernize' this Hell. Build skyscrapers, start businesses, improve the land for farms. Use the endless souls littering Hell as free labor."
Mamon's shoulders began to tremble faintly. Modernization, businesses, economic dominion... These alien terms didn't exist in Hell's lexicon, but her instincts knew. Hidden in this absurd nonsense was the perfect law that would make her the sole lord of Hell's wealth.
'Infinite labor' and 'untapped Hell.' Her reason was already paralyzed before greed.
"You don't get a word of what I just said, right? But if you take a fragment of my memories, you'll become the god of all this design. You'll gain immense fortune and power, the high demons get new amusements in this era... and I get eternal rest in that perfect system, undisturbed. Win-win, yeah?"
No sooner had the words left my mouth than Mamon leaned across the table, shouting.
"I'll do it! I want it! Give me that knowledge, that future!"
Her poised career-woman facade was gone. Nothing but greedy eyes remained. With a lazy wave, I plucked a fragment from my memory library—packed with modern infrastructure and the essence of capitalism—and pressed it to her forehead.
"Deal."
"Ah... Aaaah...!"
The moment the memory injected, Mamon collapsed to the floor with a moan of ecstasy. Skyscraper forests and intricate monetary systems unfolded in her mind. She shuddered like a saint who had grasped the world's truth.
"To think... such a perfect world exists. Sloth, you... you're more devilish than any demon!"
'Uh... is that a compliment?'
Mamon staggered to her feet, flashing a manic smile.
"I'll report to Lady Bael right now. Hell's history gets rewritten today!"
She stormed out like a gale.
*
A short while later... in Hell's heart, the 'Hall of Despair.'
Unlike the usual flames and screams, a massive white screen hovered at the hall's center, prepared by Mamon.
Mamon ascended the podium, adjusted her glasses, and swept a cold gaze over the gathered demons.
"Pay attention. From today, Hell's paradigm shifts."
She snapped her fingers, and the screen blazed with skyscrapers and capitalist diagrams extracted from my memories.
Murmurs erupted among the high demons.
"What bizarre shapes are these? Stacking stones to the heavens?!"
"And those sleek metal carts? No beast's gait, no mana pulse—how do they glide so smoothly?!"
Mamon cut through their doubts with fervent eloquence.
"This is 'efficiency' and 'dominion' in a new form. Just burning and stabbing souls is outdated. We'll make them 'work.' For free, eternally! And from their output, you'll gain new 'amusements' and 'wealth' beyond imagination."
Conviction and madness laced her voice.
She poured out her plan: improve Hell's environment for farms, erect buildings for businesses, transform all of Hell into one giant 'corporation.'
"Lady Bael, fellow demons. Grant me full authority. I'll deliver not just soul screams, but dominion over Hell's entire economy. You need only lounge in grander, flashier chambers, enjoying amusements more refined than any human's."
As Mamon's declaration ended, the hall's mood heated strangely. Most demons seemed entranced by 'lavish amusements,' but Satan's eyes—seated arrogantly beside Bael at the head—remained coldly sunken.
Arms crossed, he stared impassively at Mamon's tirade.
'This greedy Mamon, so boldly shaking the board...'
Satan mused inwardly. Ruthlessly calculating, never taking a loss—that was Mamon. Promising high demons amusements and Hell's economy? It defied logic.
Mamon specialized in taking, not giving. Offering economic control meant she'd already seized Hell's system for some unimaginable 'something.'
'She's got ulterior motives, surely. But...'
A curious smile tugged at Satan's lips. This greedy woman borrowing Sloth's knowledge to upend Hell's stale game. The chaos and change would be delightful spectacle for Wrath's root.
But not all demons were so detached.
From the corners, dissatisfied voices grumbled.
"Do we really need this? Burning and tearing souls keeps Hell running fine. Your grand 'labor' won't beat screams for fun."
Another great demon chimed in.
"Right. Managing and tormenting souls is for low- and mid-tiers. Why would high demons like us care about boring 'business'?"
Mamon smirked as if expecting their jabs.
She switched the screen.
It showed endless gray wastelands and monotonous soul-torment charts.
"Be honest, everyone. Aren't you bored?"
Her provocative question silenced the hall like poured ice water.
"Same screams, heat, stench for millennia. You're not enjoying 'torment'—you've got nothing else. But if my plan launches?"
She snapped again, displaying glitzy casinos, penthouse skyscrapers, volcano-heated spas, ultra-lux banquets.
"Not mere screams—you'll revel in 'goods' produced by souls, thousands of times more refined than the human world. Those low demons you scorn will serve you instead of screaming, proving your power with quantified 'wealth.'"
"Even if we remake Hell, that's impossible..."
Mamon sharply cut off the last grumbler.
"It is. With Sloth's 'knowledge,' my 'greed,' and Lady Bael's 'authority.' Souls become eternal bricks for your citadels in endless labor—they can't even die. Just sit and reap unimaginable riches. Still oppose?"
Mamon's eyes gleamed with golden madness.
This wasn't mere moneymaking. It was remodeling Hell into their perfect playground—a temptation no demon could refuse.
Demons glanced around, then nodded one by one, entranced by the visions.
"Power proven by wealth... Not bad."
"Perfect timing—I'm bored. Let's try this 'modernization.'"
Assents rippled through; Mamon, sensing victory, played her final card.
"Some still doubt. But your biggest worry—'hassle of directing lowly souls'—I'll solve perfectly."
The grumblers' eyes snapped back to her.
Mamon gazed reverently at Hell's silent king, Bael, and made her polite request.
"Lady Bael. Grant all souls in Hell bodies to maintain minimal physical form. Shapeless souls feel whips but can't carry bricks."
Bael's red eyes filled with interest.
"Bodies... for all souls? Worth that much power?"
"Absolutely. And you won't manage them. We'll select 'useful' fallen humans."
She manipulated the screen; souls' mortal records cascaded like waterfalls.
"Unintentional killers, suicides, those who completed vengeful quests only to fall hollow... We'll pick lesser sinners or high-intellect ones for 'Soul Supervisor' roles. High demons command these supervisors, who direct the rest for actual labor."
Mamon locked eyes with the lukewarm demons, driving the wedge home.
"You just get 'results' reports from supervisors. Slackers or rebels despite the sweet deal? Punish with our specialty: thorough torment. No more petty orders—just pure dominion."
Her efficient, brutal hierarchy silenced even the last holdouts. Hell's pain preserved, their effort minimized—perfect.
Bael rose slowly, murmuring low.
"Granting souls bodies, letting sinners rule sinners..."
Her red eyes sank, surveying Hell's expanse. She smiled faintly at Mamon.
"Intriguing. Very well—granting bodies isn't hard for me. Mamon, let's see how far your greed reaches."
Bael waved lightly at the air.
In that instant, a massive mana surge shook all Hell like a storm. The sky blazed red; billions of formless human and beast souls—screaming in torment—groaned in pain as crude 'flesh' formed.
A grotesque blessing from destruction's king, not creation's.
"We'll start immediately. Hell's history rewrites today!"
Mamon bowed deeply, intoxicated by triumph. Bael departed satisfied; Satan vanished with intrigued eyes.
As tension eased and high demons stirred to leave—
"Oh, could the rest wait a moment?"
Mamon's soft voice halted them in confusion. Sharp great demons instinctively sensed eerie killing intent, shoulders twitching.
Mamon slowly raised her head, scanning the hall. Her businesslike face was emotionless now, overlaid with overwhelming, ominous aura.
"Well... now that the two Absolutes have left, I'll say my piece."
Cold silence blanketed the hall. Mamon's lips twisted venomously.
"How dare rank-10 nobodies nitpick my plan. Think all great demons are equal?"
Gulps echoed. High demons facing her savage glare paled instantly.
"Wh-what? Mamon, you bitch, what the—?!"
"Uh, um. Damn."
"Haha... she wouldn't here, right? Nah..."
Demons sweated, backing away. Those knowing her temper half-resigned, pinching brows.
"Guess I die a few times first."
Words barely out, space warped behind Mamon; thousands of golden portals tore open. Golden-forged weapons of every form rained like arrows, ravaging the hall.
"You crazy bitch! Knew it! Argh!"
"Shit! Damn you, Mamon! Ow! It hurts!"
"Who heckled earlier? Which bastard—I'm caught in it!"
The hall turned pandemonium. High-demon dignity forgotten, they rolled and flopped dodging golden blades in pathetic frenzy.
Some screamed, others cursed Mamon with incredulous laughs.
"Crazy... for real! Argh!"
"Damn it, next time just vote yes!!"
The slaughter(?) was brief and noisy. Amid rolling demon chunks and blood stench, Mamon calmly straightened her clothes, glasses untouched.
She gazed indifferently at the gasping high demons littering the floor, then bowed refreshingly to the empty head seat.
"This concludes the meeting. Thank you."
*
After that day, my daily life flowed peacefully yet busily.
Mamon would barge in mid-nap for remodeling advice.
"Master Sloth, this capitalist distribution method..."
I'd toss her memory fragments lazily and shoo her off. She'd vanish like a storm, face lit like she'd conquered the world.
Days, or years, passed that way.
Waking from long sleep, the living room was deathly quiet for once.
No Mamon seeking counsel, no Bael dropping by for tea.
Peering out, massive skyscrapers rose on Hell's distant horizon.
"Everyone's working hard."
Grinning like it was someone else's problem, I pulled the blanket over my head.
Perfect rest returned.
But it didn't last.
As I sank into deep slumber—
A faint spatial tremor tickled my nose; a tiny 'gate' opened.
And through the gap, a worn, filthy stuffed doll plopped onto my nose.
"......"
Irritation from forced awakening boiled over. I scowled and opened my eyes.
"What the hell is this..."
Right on my nose: a grubby doll with one missing eye.
From the tiny gate beyond, a frail voice leaked.
A tearful little girl's voice.
Its emotions pierced strangely clear—stirring me, just a bit.
『Family... if you exist... help... please...』
That desperate, dripping plea shattered my living room's silence. Sharper than any Hell scream, it stabbed my eardrums.
I sighed long, hauling my heavy body up.
Waking me mid-nap. Annoying. Infuriating.
But...
"Ha... damn it all."
I picked up the dusty doll, brushing it off.
Overwhelming laziness filled me to the brim, but fiercer curiosity—or some inexplicable pull—
pushed my slothful back toward the gate beyond.