122 – I Clearly Threw a Ton of Wild Cards, Didn't I? #2

Alecto, who had been buried in work for two straight days and nights, said this to me.

"Let's bury this at our level."

Alecto was one of the Erinyes trio, the goddesses of retribution. These ladies were dead serious about whistleblowing—they'd even invade sinners' dreams to grill them with, "Admit the crimes you've committed!"

So for Alecto, who could never rest until she'd exposed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and dug into every sin, to suggest covering something up? That only piqued my interest.

"Why? Did some money-laundering docs tied to the Chairman pop up?"

"If that were the case, I wouldn't even be saying this. The Entertainment Department—it was literally a 'ghost department.'"

"Yeah, I already knew that. It's like a fake paper company, right? All smoke and mirrors."

"No, I mean actual ghosts."

Ghosts. Like, actual spooks? No, that couldn't be it.

In HQ, when someone said "ghost," they meant one person: Melinoë.

In other words—this document was proof of corruption linked to Melinoë.

Is that what she was getting at? "The Entertainment Department is Melinoë's handiwork?"

Melinoë involved in corruption? Not exactly shocking. This was the corporate world. You couldn't run on straight-laced ethics alone. Sometimes you had to bend rules, cut corners.

"Joey, everyone on Audit Team 1 knows you and Melinoë aren't just casual. So we've tacitly agreed to let it slide. We saw nothing."

"You're halting Audit Team 1's work on my account? Is that what you're saying?"

I turned to scan the office. Were they all watching me? How naive.

Audit Team 1, who could squeeze tears from dried squid—they were willing to ditch the job for my personal convenience?

"Heh, looks like I've been underestimated."

"What?"

"This was my initiative from the start. If everyone's stopping, I'll push on alone."

Melinoë was a magnanimous goddess. Whether sincere or not, she'd publicly declared she'd forgive me for a little "wandering eye" during our contract romance.

But digging into her corruption and graft? Even Melinoë wouldn't sit idle.

"Just like Melinoë doesn't play favorites with you, you're not giving her special treatment either, right? Yeah, that's how it should be. My consideration was wasted."

She rubbed her nose.

Right then, I crunched the numbers cold.

'I was just doing my job. Even if Melinoë boils over, she can't slap me with real punishment.'

Punishing a star employee? Against regs. Melinoë loved rules—she'd be handcuffed, even if I hurt her interests.

But personal grudges linger.

—Joey, how could you do this to me? I'm so disappointed. Our contract romance is over. Go back to the surface.

Workplace romance tanking over company drama? Not rare for office drones. Especially with tangled interests.

"Then, Director Joey, this case is fully yours."

Pluck. Alecto pulled a feather from her wing and handed it over.

This was an auditor's badge—free access anywhere, interrogation and investigation rights.

Alecto had pulled these files straight from Security. Heavily redacted, but the key info was there.

"Looks like a department Melinoë managed back when she was a deputy."

Melinoë, the CEO's daughter, as a deputy? She hadn't parachuted straight into exec.

Come to think of it, I knew so little about her. Why create a "ghost department"? Pure curiosity now.

"Here it is."

The ghost Entertainment Department wasn't in HQ. It was in the old building, not the shiny new one post-Business Renewal.

Now a warehouse for dusty docs and supplies. No reason to visit.

Even I, nearing 2-3 years in Soul Society, had never set foot here.

New HQ was sleek. Old HQ? Eerie demon castle vibes. Dim shadows, torchlit grand temple. Skeleton guards at the entrance waved me through with Alecto's feather—no hassle.

"Where's the Entertainment Department?"

I asked before parting. The skeletons stared, tilting heads.

"Entertainment Department?"

"Never heard of it."

Even guards didn't know. I wandered the vast temple like a salesman pounding pavement.

Not bad—felt like slacking off on company time.

Finally, a door: faded sign reading Entertainment Department. Ancient.

Knock knock. No stir inside.

Creeeak. Dust-choked office. Flashlight revealed cobwebs draping boxes.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Like an abandoned ruin. Ghosts any second."

Flip. Picked up desk papers. Blew dust to read.

"What the hell?"

Play script? More dusty game consoles, sketchbooks caught my eye.

Weird part: Earth stuff, not Soul Society gear.

"Found you at last."

Voice behind me. Jump scare—heart nearly exploded.

"...Ghost!?"

"Gotta be. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm dead already."

Flashlight: familiar face. Blue bob, oversized shirt, jeans, magic shell headset—only one hipster like that here.

"Eurydol?"

"Joey, you really came."

"Pardon?"

"Arachne must've told you."

What? I pondered. Last time with Arachne, she mentioned, "Eurydol has a favor to ask Joey—."

Forgot amid the chaos.

"Maybe she did. There's something I need from this office, but no access. So I asked you."

Oh boy. She thought I came for her.

But intriguing: "Something here you want?"

"Yeah. Didn't I say? I used to work here."

No way. Eurydol in Entertainment Department?

Questions flooded: What was it? Melinoë's corruption? Could this tank my thing with her?

But Eurydol talked her piece, ignored others.

"Forgot to grab something when I quit. Need it for my next stage. Or that clown Crowzer might lap me."

"What're you after?"

"My life."

Deadpan. But her fingers fidgeted—like, "Nailed that cool line, huh?"

Hipsters...

Rustle rustle. I joined the blind hunt. Awkward silence killer.

Break it. "You worked here, so HQ employee?"

"Old news."

Chat over. My-pace extreme.

"What'd this department do?"

"Think secret base."

"Secret base?"

"Ah. Found it."

Peeked: triangular guitar pick, "OP" etched.

"Fits perfect. Hate using Orpheus's stuff. But his musical chops? Legit. Annoyingly."

"You really dislike Orpheus."

"Nah. Forgot that guy. Don't even recall his face. Same for him—why else no visits?"

...You've met plenty lately. Bit my tongue. No meddling in love lives. Especially Crowzer's.

"Joey, thanks—got what I needed."

"I did zilch."

"Couldn't enter without you. Hey, what's that?"

"This? Seemed like a play script."

"Not a script. Magic scroll logging real events. Special read recreates vividly. Obsolete product—nice find."

"This?"

"Don't like debts. This repays. Dew tasted once beats honey candy eyed ten times—inspiration-wise. Experience it."

Whoosh. Snatched the scroll, weird proverb. Chanted: "Spell was... Ah, Melly-melly."

Lame incantation. Déjà vu as scenery warped.

Snapped to: dim hellscape. Torches, candles spaced ritually. Happy World-ish, but off.

"......"

"Wh-where are we?!"

"I was in the hospital..."

Panicked crowds around me.

Someone mounted the podium. Black hair. Pointy nymph ears.

"What are you staring at...? I am the Tutorial Fairy...! And this place, well, it's the afterlife, nya...!"

"Melinoi...!?"

I yelped. She scowled, fuming.

"Who calls the Tutorial Fairy by name so casually, nya...! This body is a mature employee...! Call me Deputy Melinoë, nya...!"