Welcome to Happy World #1
“Iseo, how about seriously marrying into my family?”
On the day I wrapped up my master's degree in record time due to our family's worsening finances, Professor Zeus asked me with a completely straight face.
“My daughters are cute, right? It'd be great if you became part of the family. That way, you could keep being my diligent slave—ahem, lab assistant.”
A bold proposal that was oddly tempting. But there was a problem.
“...Professor, your daughters are still in middle school.”
“What can I do? My wife says we're doing three times more kimchi prep this year than last! Who's gonna drive the girls to the airport every time? Who's gonna pack my camping gear?”
I recalled how, over the past few years in his lab, I'd hauled more cabbages than papers. Come kimchi season, I'd get summoned to his house, and every time his daughters flew abroad, I'd end up as their chauffeur. Sometimes I wondered if I'd signed on as a lab assistant or a housemaid.
“So, any luck with job hunting?”
Job. That word yanked me back to reality by the ankle. I couldn't become the professor's son-in-law, but I sure could end up unemployed. My mom, living alone, had collapsed, forcing me, Jo Iseo, to settle for a quick master's.
“I've been looking around, but it's not easy.”
The world wasn't kind—someone like me with a master's in ancient Western history couldn't find a job that fit my major.
I shook my head, and the professor clapped like it was great news.
“One of my relatives runs a company. They're looking for versatile talent. You're good at driving, fieldwork, all sorts of stuff—why not put those skills to use? Here's their card.”
(Happy World Co., Ltd.)
Chairman: Hades
Happy World Inc. No clue what they did from the name.
“What kind of company is it?”
“Small family business. They do this and that. Ahem. The important part is the pay. From what I hear, their new hires start at—”
Scribble, scribble. Zeros multiplied on the notepad he opened, making my hair stand on end.
“This is real?”
“Real as it gets. I swear on the River Styx. Work there a few years, and you could afford an apartment outside Seoul.”
At that salary, I could cover Mom's hospital bills and even get her to quit her restaurant job. Hell, I might dust off my own dreams of dating and marriage.
Which was exactly why I was worried.
“Professor, you think I could get hired somewhere that amazing?”
Self-awareness matters. Objectivity and all. Could a guy who dove into ancient Western history and theology just because he loved Greek myths really land a high-paying gig?
Even the ever-confident professor smacked his lips, at a loss for words.
“Guess marrying into my family really is your only option, Iseo.”
“Professor, marrying middle schoolers means jail before the wedding.”
A few days later, as I packed my stuff from his lab, bittersweet feelings made me pause. That's when he spoke up.
“Iseo, remember that 'Happy World' I mentioned? You can start tomorrow.”
“Huh? For real?”
“Yeah. Their HR read your thesis and wants to meet the author. Especially your undergrad one. What was the title again—?”
“'The Correlation Between Nymphs and Special Honey Candy'?”
“Right. The hypothesis that nymphs might like special honey candy. They want to hear why you interpreted it that way, straight from you.”
Why did I interpret it that way? I'd banged it out drunk just to graduate. Someone liking it was embarrassing.
“—'You can tell a person's character by their attitude toward nymphs.' Old Greek saying. They were impressed by your take on nymphs.”
Nymphs? No such proverb in Greece. Probably a joke—the professor loved bad ones.
But landing a good job? Even his lame jokes bloomed into laughter today.
“Professor! I'll work my ass off! First paycheck, I'll get you a gift!”
He must've pulled strings. Years suffering under the infamous prof paid off with this light!
He shook his head, though.
“What'd I do? It's your hard study on nymphs that got you the job. Starting tomorrow means we won't see much of each other. How about a farewell drink?”
Clink-clink. He poured golden liquor into a cup.
“This is special. You won't find it anywhere.”
Drinking at high noon? But I'd seen him booze since undergrad. Made me a drinker too.
“Cheers!”
Gulp, gulp. The celebratory shot hit me like lightning.
Delicious...!? What was this? Apple-like fruit scent, but unlike any I'd tasted. I'd tried plenty under the booze-loving Zeus, but this was new. High proof, though—the buzz hit hard.
“Good, right? It's nectar from Greece. So, for your Tartarus—ahem, no, Happy World dispatch—stamp here—”
“Pardon? What was that? Whaaaat?”
“Don't worry—fired? Olympus transfer guaranteed—or marry my daughter—”
I don't remember much after. When I came to, I was in Tartarus—hell where sinners groaned amid boiling sulfur.
Yeah. Tartarus. Greek myth's deepest underworld pit. The nadir of nadirs, fog-shrouded even gods feared.
For some reason, my nymph-and-honey-candy thesis got me hired there.
Happy World, Penalty Execution Dept Team 4, Employee Jo Iseo
That's my business card.
###
The Greek underworld I studied divides into three zones: Pluto's Palace, home of the underworld gods; Elysium, their heaven; and hell, Tartarus.
The one spot everyone avoids. Where I worked.
Sounds sweet like a sauce name, but after two winters here, it's beyond horrific.
Hellish weather for real.
“Jouji.”
“Jouji. Jouji.”
Palm-sized hell cockroaches screeching weirdly.
And my spot in the notoriously grueling Tartarus Penalty Execution Dept? No vacation, no holidays—just endless work.
Scribble, scribble. Signing endless papers, I pondered my crime that doomed me here. No resignation in this infinite-work hell?
“If only I hadn't written that damn nymph paper!”
My coworker Marquius, sitting beside me, asked.
“Nymph tears? Got a nymph around?”
“Nah.”
He scowled, his thief-like face darkening more as he glanced around and smacked his lips.
“Figures. No way a cute little nymph in this dump. If there was, I'd treat her real nice. Kuhehehehe!”
Treat her how? He looked ruthless enough to enslave women, but truth was, he couldn't swat a bug—total coward.
That's why I always chase the cockroaches.
Anyway, Marquius would ramble as usual, distracting me, so I planned to half-listen.
“Heard the news? Big shot exec coming to Happy World from HQ. Impress 'em, and you might transfer up!”
Transfer. My ears perked.
“For real? From Pluto's Palace?”
“Jo I, correction. Post-reform, it's HQ now. Tartarus is Happy World—forgot?”
“...Tartarus is Tartarus, not Happy World!”
“Anyway, official notice on the board. Figured you'd seen it—you're last year's star employee! Team 4's pride!”
Star employee? Headache incoming. Last year, to “refresh” the dreary vibe, they made a victory garden out front—pure show. While digging randomly, I hit a pure gold vein.
—G-gold!
—Team 4's Jo I found gold!
—Kiyooooot!
I'd given up holidays from frustration, and bam—gold. Made me star employee, fast-tracked to promotion after two years. More work, shitty luck.
“Last year was luck. Won't happen again.”
Won't let it!
“Luck? Modest much? That vein funded Team 4 best—everyone's jealous. Check my chair—latest Earth trend!”
Truth: Penalty Execution was elite in Soul Society. Dream job for most. Except me.
I always wanted out. Happy World had fancy chairs but no resignation culture. Eternal employment. Even death didn't quit you—most staff were dead souls.
Sneak away? Impossible. No myth escapee from Tartarus. Even lucky Sisyphus, mocking the system, got his boulder punishment. Chills.
But an HQ exec demoted here? Seemed like punishment for pissing off the CEO, but for me? Golden chance.
First impressions matter. Gotta look like total trash!
Who knows? Screw up, they might fire me—the guy hired for Happy World.
Every world cans dead weight.
Don't worry—if fired, Olympus transfer guaranteed—
That day, buzzed on Zeus's weird booze, I vaguely recalled Olympus transfer talk.
Olympus—who knows the vibe—but better than fake sun by Daedalus shining dully over dead souls and cockroaches.
“Jouji.”
“Jouji.”
At least Olympus roaches'd be small.
Anyway, who was the exec?
“Marqui, more on the new exec?”
“Ahem, the Tartarus deputy coming? Heard something, not sure if true. A nymph, they say.”
What? The nymphs that screwed my life?
This was hell. No, Happy World.
But... perfect.
Do shit nymphs hate, get fired!