003 - Welcome to Happy World #3
The day of Jo Iseo's meeting with Sisyphus.
Sisyphus thrust out the contract and asserted his rights. "Mr. Jo Iseo, then I'll enjoy my ten-minute break starting now."
"Yes, go right ahead."
Finishing his conversation with Jo Iseo, Sisyphus loosened the bowstring-tight tension he'd been holding. Outstanding employee Jo Iseo, huh? I was on guard because I'd heard he was some big deal, but he's nothing special. Of course a mere regular employee couldn't handle someone who even fooled the CEO of this Happy World.
An eternal ten minutes. Even he thought it was a brilliant idea. So Sisyphus kept lounging around, snoring or slacking off.
How much time passed like that? Daedalus's artificial sun rose and set arbitrarily, regardless of the hour, repeating the cycle a few times when black-robed deliverymen approached Sisyphus.
"From Charon's Transport. Are you Mr. Sisyphus? Sign here, please."
"What's this?"
"Let's see... Items sent by Mr. Jo Iseo from the Penalty Execution Department."
Delivery Notice
Sender: Jo Iseo (Penalty Execution Department)
Recipient: Sisyphus (Special Prisoner R-08A)
Jo Iseo sending Sisyphus a package? As expected of the top employee, was he up to some scheme? Left alone, Sisyphus carefully opened the wrapped box.
Pop!
Then, incredibly fluffy sheep's wool burst out like popcorn. The cloud-like, golden fleece even startled Sisyphus.
This is the Golden Fleece? The treasure where just lying on it wipes away all fatigue. And if made into clothes, it blocks any cold!
That wasn't all.
"That beautiful nymph, for whom does she shed tears~♪"
A sweet melody emanated from the conch shell beneath the fleece. Quick-witted Sisyphus recognized it as Song of the Nymph, the hit by Orpheus, the underworld's top singer. The magically recorded conch sold out instantly and fetched a fortune.
Employee Jo Iseo, why send this to me? With an employee's salary, he couldn't afford these. Must've emptied the department budget.
As items unattainable for a prisoner lay before him, Sisyphus felt inexplicably uneasy.
Could it be that? The North Wind and the Sun strategy. It wasn't the harsh wind that stripped the traveler's cloak, but the sun's warm rays.
Maybe Jo Iseo was showing goodwill to sway his heart toward proper punishment. Impressed by this different approach from pain-fearing employees, Sisyphus thought,
As expected of a top employee. He knows how to move hearts. But Jo Iseo, you failed. Anyone else might fall for it, but not me, Sisyphus. My resolve is rock-solid.
Sneering inwardly at Jo Iseo, Sisyphus lay on the gifted fleece, listening to music and savoring sweet rest. He slept, recited poetry alone— in these ten minutes, he did everything except roll the boulder.
Starting to get bored now.
But humans crave activity. Especially Sisyphus, who'd trained muscles daily with heavy stone, felt his body rusting from disuse.
Too much rest is making me stiff. Maybe some exercise?
He dropped for push-ups. "Two thousand twenty-one—. Two thousand twenty-two—."
But something was missing. Too light.
His eyes drifted to the boulder beside him. Gulp. Heavy, massive, solid... perfect weight for muscle growth!
Rolling that to the hilltop would stimulate my muscles just right...
Habits are scary. Long conditioned to heavy lifting, Sisyphus was a workout addict unsatisfied without it. He subtly, ever so subtly touched the boulder...
"Mr. Sisyphus! Your break isn't over! Hands off the rock!"
"Whoa, CEO help! Mr. Jo Iseo!"
Jo Iseo appeared out of nowhere, bellowing like thunder. Sisyphus jolted, yanking his hand away. His heart nearly stopped.
Regaining composure, Sisyphus forced a relaxed smile. "Mr. Jo Iseo, that's enough rest. Thanks to your fleece and music, I had a fulfilling ten minutes. Now I'll fulfill my role."
"No! You can't! It's not ten minutes yet!"
"Pardon?"
Sisyphus doubted his ears. A prisoner volunteering for labor, and the guard refusing? Jo Iseo warned with dead seriousness.
"Mr. Sisyphus, lie back on the fleece. Your contract's ten-minute break isn't over. Absolutely no touching the boulder."
"......"
A chill ran down Sisyphus's spine. His proud muscles rusting in real-time, forbidden from the boulder? Then it hit him.
This guy's scheme! He wants to stop me from training!
Panic surged. Sisyphus endured eternal punishment because building unbreakable muscles gave purpose. But this Happy World employee aimed to steal that joy.
"Mr. Jo Iseo! Let me roll it to the top just once! Please!"
"No."
"Please! Even like this?"
"No. Didn't I prepare a fleece bed and song? Forget the boulder and keep resting!"
"Grrr...."
"Grrr?"
"...Grrr... you devil! I've rolled boulders here for ages, but you're the first guard like this! You fiend! Jo Iseo, you cursed bastard!"
Vitriolic curses. But Jo Iseo's face remained stone-cold.
"Mr. Sisyphus, contracts are absolute. Signed with Styx ink—no executive can break it. So, rest."
Shhh—.
The agony of muscle loss, steel-hard bulk melting like the sun. Worse than any torture, it broke Sisyphus.
"What can you do? No way to measure ten minutes in Happy World."
...This guy's ruthless!
Sisyphus conceded defeat. "Mr. Jo Iseo, you know there's a way to measure ten minutes precisely here. Using Cronus's hourglass."
Somewhere in Happy World lived Cronus, ancient ruler and titan of agriculture and time. His hobby-crafted hourglasses worked perfectly even without time's flow.
"Secure a ten-minute hourglass, measure accurately, and my break ends—I get my punishment rights!"
Sisyphus broke. The right to punishment? That wasn't a right. But his yelling reached Bones, who procured a golden ten-minute hourglass for him.
Sisyphus grinned in satisfaction. "Can you increase the boulder's weight? After days off, it needs extra for muscle stimulus."
In the end, Sisyphus diligently rolled a heavier boulder—no tricks. Its fall generated electricity lighting the ghost staff dorms.
"Huuuuh—!"
"Huu-huu—!"
Ghost staff cheered at the lit dorms, rubbing fluffy bodies on my cheeks. They thought it was my doing. Manager Bones grinned with bony jaws.
"Sisyphus's energy output hits Happy World's record high since founding! Sold excess boosted our budget to max! Jo Iseo! You're the best!"
"......"
"Deputy promotion approved! Congrats! Just two winters passed, already deputy? Third fastest ever—first mortal!"
"Jo Iseo forever!"
"Jo Iseo forever!"
"Manager, isn't it quitting time?"
"Oh, yes. Sand shows 6 PM. Let's clock out!"
Not just Sisyphus—Bones deemed time useful, bought hourglasses en masse. Penalty Execution now had schedules.
"Man, fixed hours make work fun! Efficiency up! Jo Iseo, I knew you'd nail this, Marquius!"
"...Heh heh heh...."
"Tough break for Team 1's Crates, but you're this year's top employee."
"Heh heh heh heh heh!"
"Your laugh cheers me! See you tomorrow! Note: exec arrives 8 AM—don't be late. Check your mailbox before leaving."
"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!"
Why did things go this way? My dream of firing and Olympus faded steps back. This was hell— no, Happy World.
But even in a tiger's den, focus finds escape. Maybe sharp wits here yield an out. I found it in colleague Marquius's tale.
"Exec at 8 AM tomorrow?" All must greet her. Everyone primps for good impressions. But what if I made a horrific one?
Like being late. I'd look like a chicken among cranes.
Reverse "one crane among chickens"— "one chicken among cranes." Brilliant.
One hitch: Can't seem like ignoring exec authority. That risks punishment over firing.
Happy World's hierarchy is strict. Overt disrespect turns "fired" into "prisoner."
Key: natural incompetence. How to tardy organically?
"Booze is best."
—Sorry, overslept drunk. Late.
—Late from booze? Never seen such sloppiness! You're fired!
—What a Happy World! Feeling very good!
My plan: flawless. Hard to fail—no gold veins erupting, no gym rats begging boulder duty. This time, total flop—
Then it hit me. Marquius said check mailbox before leaving?
Curious, but skipped. Probably junk luck letter.
A single letter in Jo Iseo's mailbox. It read:
To my dear colleague Jo Iseo,
I dug up info that might help you. The new exec loves booze.
— Marquius