Week 1 #2: Forged Attendance and the Executive Nightmare
“Manager Jo's already been absent for days, hasn't he?”
Deputy Narcissus gazed at the empty seat with a faint look of concern.
“Haven't seen him since his vacation.”
A heavy air of worry hung over Manager Hector's bony face too.
“We all know Manager Jo isn't the type to just slack off. Something urgent must be going on.”
The employees weren't worried about Manager Jo himself. He was a living legend in Soul Society, after all. What concerned them was whatever business he was handling.
How dangerous and serious must it be for him to go radio silent like this?
“Maybe he's off on some secret mission tied to Tartarus.”
“That makes sense.”
Deputy Narcissus cheered for Manager Jo. He was a distant junior, someone who'd surpassed him and even sparked a twinge of jealousy. But now that he'd rocketed to manager, there wasn't a shred of envy left. Instead, Narcissus quietly took pride in sharing the stage with the hero of countless tales.
So he wanted to help Manager Jo however he could.
“Manager Hector, if he's really on a covert op, won't his absences cause issues?”
“Deputy Na, what nonsense are you scheming now?”
“It's not nonsense. Hear me out. If the Tartarus rebels find out Manager Jo's not around, they'll be on high alert.”
“Of course they'd be paranoid. Just thinking about where he might be and what he's up to gives even us the chills.”
“Exactly. So why don't we fudge the attendance logs to make it look like he's clocking in normally? Brilliant, right?”
“So you're saying the audit team—us, who police corruption—should commit fraud by tampering with the logs ourselves? Deputy Na, you—”
Narcissus shrank back, bracing for a scolding from the strict Manager Hector.
“You've got a sharp mind in there somewhere! Not bad for a perpetual deputy— a true elite audit team idea!”
Auditors who policed infractions didn't always follow every rule to the letter. Sometimes, bending minor ones was necessary to catch greater wrongs.
And so they used their authority to cover up Manager Jo's week-long unauthorized absences.
He hadn't so much as cast a shadow in the office, yet in the end, his record showed him as the most diligent employee of all.
So where was everyone's Manager Jo right now, and what was he doing?
Deputy Narcissus pondered quietly.
Probably facing unimaginable foes, no doubt.
“Argh, Prince Zagreus bit the dust again. Chairman Hades is no joke.”
A week after my vacation on the Oceanus beach.
I was AWOL from the company without a word. Call it a self-declared break.
In my pitch-black room, curtains drawn tight, all I did was game.
The game's called Zagreus. Made by Happy World employees, apparently. It follows Prince Zagreus's saga of trying to bust out of the underworld.
The final boss was the Chairman himself, and true to his title as ruler of the underworld, every pattern was instant-death fodder, stealth ambushes, or spammed AoEs. Beating him was brutal.
Did Prince Zagreus really topple a boss like that to escape to the surface? No wonder execs down here aren't for just anyone.
“But man, even a week's enough to burn out on this game.”
—Indeed.
“What?! These hell cockroaches! I'll squash you all!”
Anyway, my week flew by productively in my book: gaming, cockroach hunts, naps, solo rants. Work? Erased from my brain. A real vacation—unauthorized, sure.
Manager Jo,
I've logged your attendance as normal. No clue what you're up to, but don't forget the audit team is your home base now!
— Manager Hector
But—
Why'd they go and forge my check-ins like that on their own?
At this point, even anger felt pointless.
“So much for holing up for an unauthorized break! Damn it!”
Wasted time, all because of that letter.
Recipient: Jo
Sender: Soul Society Board
Official Notice Regarding Stock Transfer
The Soul Society Board hereby formally notifies the following via this document:
1. Transferor: Charybdis of Ocean World
2. Transferee: Jo
3. Transfer Details: 1 share of Soul Society common stock
This letter! It was the root of all my stress!
That 1% share from Charybdis foreshadowed my worst nightmare: executive status.
Company brass. I'd leaped past impossible hurdles straight to the threshold of executive hell.
But hold on—some thresholds just couldn't be crossed.
“Snap out of it, Jo Iseo. Logically, me becoming an exec? Absurd.”
They call it “pinning on stars”—as tough as making general.
For me, it'd be like a fresh private becoming a general.
“Owning shares doesn't automatically make you an exec! Muahaha! Hope lives!”
How'd I know? I didn't just game this whole AWOL week.
To dodge exec life—
To escape Soul Society!
I pored over every bylaw, treaty, and clause. Pages? Over 66,600!
Amid that hellish text wall, I found my ray of hope.
A. Those becoming executives must obtain approval from shareholders holding 51%+ shares at the general meeting.
N. Even with approval, they must pass the Executive Exam.
51%+ shareholder approval.
Meaning only those greenlit by fellow execs and major shareholders could join the ranks.
“Soul Society's execs and shareholders are more conservative and picky than celestial or ocean gods.”
Lots would hate a mortal at their table. Clique-ish, you could say.
Would they rubber-stamp my ascension?
“Second, whatever this Executive Exam is, I won't pass it.”
It's the ultimate filter preventing share-owners from auto-exec status.
Otherwise, princes like Zagreus could've flooded ranks by gifting shares to allies, bloating their factions.
So there had to be a safeguard beyond mere ownership.
That exam, probably.
“A brutal trial no ordinary human like me could survive?”
It had to be. No doubt.
That realization pierced the gloom clouding my mind all week like sunlight. Crystal clear now.
Me? Exec? Impossible.
No need to hide in my shell, then.
Clunk, creak!
I flung open the door I'd sealed for a week and strode out boldly.
Destination: one place.
Prince Zagreus's office.
“Your Highness, could you call a shareholders' meeting? And at this one, I'd like to make a proposal.”
“Ho, a proposal to me?”
“Nominate me for executive at the next meeting. With my transferred 1%, I'm qualified.”
“This is—”
The prince's red eyes blazed hot.
Fascinated that a mortal like me held transfer papers, it seemed.
“Heard you were on vacation. Not so simple, huh? Snagging shares from Charybdis of all people. Hit where it hurts.”
“Execs need 51%+ recommendations, right? I hear Lady Melinoë holds about 45%.”
“Correct. Her endorsement plus 6% more, and you're in. Piece of cake for you, Manager Jo. Wait—you're not asking me for that 6%?”
“No. The opposite. I want to climb to exec on my own power, no help from the princess or you. Oppose my appointment.”
“Oppose?”
“Checked the bylaws: opposing shares cancel approvals. Offset Melinoë's 45% consent with your 45% opposition.”
That's why shareholder battles got so vicious.
Shares canceling shares! Even 51% approval gets nullified by another 51% opposition.
That was my play.
Even if my would-be backers scraped 51% yes-votes, bigger fish vetoing it turns it to confetti.
“You want to sit at our table through your own merit, no divine patrons? Choosing the hard road on purpose. Why?”
His eyes narrowed slyly. Had he sniffed out my deliberate sabotage op?
Tension spiked.
“Fair enough. Nothing proves your chops like this. You want to silence whispers of being Melinoë's parachute.”
“Exactly.”
Whatever—he bought it. Whew.
Soon, booming pahahahaha laughter from Prince Zagreus.
“Fine. If you're set on the tough path, no reason for me to block. But the Executive Exam? Most wash out there.”
“Wash out?”
“Yeah. Mortals with shares aren't rare. Gods they've cozy'd up to have pulled 51% approvals before. All flunked the exam.”
“Oof.”
“They had to sell their shares after. One shot only.”
Chilling just hearing it.
“Want the exam details? Pick one from a list—random, so prep's pointless.”
“Nah. Just one item total?”
“Yup. And it's a killer.”
One topic, yet impossibly hard? Anxiety brewing.
“One's too easy. I'll handle every item, whatever they are.”
“Every!? Are you insane? Each one's life-threatening!”
“Do I look like I'm bluffing, Your Highness?”
I met his gaze head-on.
Jo Iseo style: brazen eye-contact technique.
His red eyes twitched.
“...You're serious? I've done reckless stuff, but not this suicidal.”
“A mortal exec needs that level of proof!”
Jo Iseo style: maximum hot-air barrage!
Bigger the bluff, bigger the letdown!
“Watch me! No one'll dare complain when I'm exec! Muahahahahaha!”
I blustered out of his office.
Yep, field work's my jam. A week's brooding in my room? Solved in a day outside.