017 – The Most Beautiful Flower in the World
I read the newspaper. And read it again.
Crates, you bastard. Why the hell did you go and surrender like that on your own? What the fuck did they find in that field anyway? Why did this have to happen?
Ah, this must be a dream.
It had to be. Probably a vicious nightmare. That's why I was slapping my cheeks—smack smack—when Manager Bones, the skeleton, sidled up and said,
"What kind of terrifying methods did you use to make even that Crates spill everything and turn himself in? Section Chief Jo, I'm... starting to get a little scared of you myself...."
"Devil Jo! Where are you, Devil Jo!"
Soon someone burst into the office, calling me by some bizarre nickname. I turned my head, and there was the real devil—Astarote, horns and all—face flushed red, huffing and puffing as she stormed toward me.
"You! You pulled this stunt right before the audit, didn't you? Trying to saddle our audit team with a debt, huh? Your schemes are so devious they live up to that Devil moniker with pride! Tch!"
What the hell was this woman babbling about? I scowled, and Manager Bones poked my side.
"By Happy World regulations, aren't the natural yields of any land solely the property of its owner? Those weapons that came from the land you bought to blackmail Crates with. Their ownership—"
"Belongs to you! To investigate them, we'd have to get permission from you, the landowner. As if scheming to tie up our audit team and rack up favors to breeze through this massive audit wasn't enough. What a schemer."
Tch. Astarote clicked her tongue.
"This Happy World audit's getting fast-tracked into a formality. We've finally started catching the rebels' tails, so no manpower left for the Penalty Execution Team audit. Shame—I was looking forward to going up against you, Jo!"
What? The full-scale audit was being skipped?
"No way that's—"
"Woo! Long live Section Chief Jo!"
"Audit postponed! Unprecedented!"
"We're saaaaved! No more endless paperwork!"
"Section Chief Jo, you're our savior!"
My feeble protest was powerless as a paper boat against the roaring wave of employees' cheers. Like that paper boat washed ashore by a fierce gale, I flopped into my office chair.
"If I hadn't turned myself in, who knows what Section Chief Jo would've done holding my family hostage! That guy's the type to do it!"
Crates vented his rage at Astarote, the lead investigator from the audit team.
"I know how terrifying he is better than anyone—I worked with him! I know! So turning myself in and requesting family protection was the right call!"
Astarote nodded in agreement at the horrifying hypothetical of Section Chief Jo—who had grilled the rock-headed Sisyphus and Cronus through every trick in the book—targeting Crates' family.
"You made an excellent choice. Jo's called the Devil in this Happy World for a reason; torture and blackmail are probably as basic as breathing for him. If you hadn't surrendered—"
Audit Team Leader Astarote's eyes sparkled.
"He really would've torn your family apart. I know, 'cause I'm a devil too. Jo's the kind who'd pawn their souls and do all sorts of atrocities. Horrific ones."
"H-Horrific ones...."
"Horrific, terrifying stuff! That's what makes him the devil!"
"Uwaaaah...!"
At the outsider's words, Crates felt chills ripple across his skin. He trembled like a ten-year-old boy who'd lost his mother when the devil asked in a honeyed voice,
"So spill everything you know. We'll cut you a deal. Real estate—why'd you buy it? Connected to the rebels from the start?"
"...No! I was just obsessed with saving money.... But someone slipped a letter into my locker. Said they knew about my embezzlement.... Told me to stay quiet if I didn't want it exposed...."
Someone had blackmailed Crates over his embezzlement and stashed stuff on his land. He knew it was dangerous enough to bring ruin, but he couldn't confess to everyone. If he lost his job, his wife and son would face hardship again.
"I... was afraid of poverty."
Crates had been a prince of a tiny kingdom called Phoenicia—so insignificant it wasn't even in the history books. But he was a prince, living in modest luxury. Then an unnaturally long winter hit, he lost his kingdom, and was cast into the streets.
Crates, a royal who'd never worked a day, starved for days. His wife Kshalri barely kept them alive with sewing and farm labor. But even that didn't last. The endless winter sickened their son and drained Kshalri's vitality.
"P-Please, some food. Just a little.... My wife and son are starving.... Please, anything...."
Crates had swallowed his pride and begged. He snatched fruit or meat scraps from the ground without shame. But his wife and son couldn't survive the brutal winter and slipped away in his arms.
Crates despaired. Colder and quieter than winter itself. The truly broken don't even scream.
He jumped from the crumbling castle walls. Became a Happy World prisoner. Reunited with his family.
The ill-fated prince Crates found twisted happiness in that hell. He'd sworn never to let them starve again. By any means, he'd climb up and spare them hardship.
That was the problem. He'd gotten tangled in ugly business.
"I swear I know nothing about the rebels. I just knew they hid something on my land. My son and wife are innocent. Please, they... "
He couldn't beg forgiveness lightly. Nothing was certain in Happy World.
So what now for Crates? From executor to executed?
Not unheard of, but rare.
"Boring. Thought we'd snag a rebel tail. You're just a low-level peon. glorified warehouse keeper. You'll probably get fired."
"F-Fired...? Not punished...?"
"Someone's pleading total innocence for you, saying it's all his fault. Section Chief Jo. He's yelling that he orchestrated the whole thing."
"...What!? Jo...!?"
Crates was stunned. The least likely person advocating for him.
Jo had no involvement. He'd sniffed out the embezzlement on his own and tried to resolve it—a brilliant guy.
Why claim fault now?
"Even insisting he embezzled for the land himself. Shameless enough for that Devil nickname, huh?"
Crates fell silent, deep in thought.
He's on another level.
If roles reversed, Crates would've mocked Jo mercilessly. But Jo didn't.
The man who joined Happy World alive and made section chief in two years. Total defeat. Couldn't beat him in a rematch.
Days later, under the blazing underworld sun, Crates was released. Audit team ruled no more intel from him. Just a low-level land provider in the rebel case.
Not innocent, though. "Suspended sentence." Came with a fearsome watcher.
Even among Happy World's terrors, the Devil himself.
"Crates, I'm your suspension monitor. Screw up, and it's straight to punishment, no mercy."
"...Jo."
"I'd love if you slipped up. Then I could ditch this babysitting gig. But please, don't sin, Crates."
He jerked his chin toward a corner. A small boy and a woman in shabby coat held hands there.
"Your family. Stood there till you got out."
"D-Darling... Son..."
Crates crumpled at the knees. Tears thicker than Happy World fog blinded him.
But he felt his wife and son grab his shoulders. He smelled their hardship. The stench of poverty and toil clung thick.
The era of suffering he'd vowed to shield them from was back. Jobless in barren Happy World, they'd starve again.
As Crates wept, apologizing endlessly—"I'm sorry. So sorry"—his wife Kshalri said,
"Don't worry, dear. We got a windfall. Someone bought my cacti for a fortune. Starting a flower shop with it. Something I always wanted."
Flower shop work would be grueling. Covered in dirt.
Making his wife toil again. Crates felt worthless.
"Kshalri, you raised like a princess, back to rough labor.... I swore no hardship in this Happy World..."
Failure as a husband. Deserved punishment.
Then Kshalri cupped his cheek tenderly.
"Dear, look at my hands. Rough and ugly from gardening dirt. But..."
She gently pulled him up.
"These hands can hold you and stand together. In this Happy World, we're together forever. No death, no parting."
"But I..."
"Or are my dirt- and manure-stained hands no longer beautiful? Unworthy of your side?"
At her quiet question, Crates gazed at her hands. Once boasted softer than Helen's, now callused and rough.
Yet more beautiful than any flower he'd seen.
"No... your hands are still more beautiful than Helen's."
The family embraced.
Section Chief Jo watched, then turned away.
"Fired and a great family. Crates, I'm genuinely jealous."
His mutter went unheard.
Jo headed home. House brimming with thorny cacti everywhere.
People whispered about the man commuting from there daily:
"Keeping all those torture tools at home."
"Rumor is, can't sleep on a normal bed—needs cactus to relax—."
"Truly the Devil of Thorns, terrifying!"