056 – The Solution to the Problem is Surprisingly Close at Hand!
Living life, there are times when you're saddled with a task way beyond your abilities. A task that's outrageously over your head, yet one you absolutely can't afford to fail. At such moments, people typically go through five distinct stages.
First: Denial. "Me, presenting the effects of the Nymph Quota System in front of the executives? Haha, you've got to be kidding. Why would they pick me over Manager Hector?"
Second: Anger. "Damn those nymphs! I knew getting tangled up with them never ends well!"
Third: Bargaining. "Admetus! Could you just smuggle one little item up to the surface for me? It's a carry-on suitcase. Big enough for one person. Money's no object... What? Security's too tight now?"
Fourth: Depression. "What a Happy World. Guess this life's done for."
Fifth: Acceptance. "Screw it, might as well give it a shot."
I'd just gone to bed and woken up to this: suddenly having to rave about the merits of the Nymph Quota System before a room full of stern executives. The problem? I had no clue what its merits even were. No wonder my emotions were all over the place.
This was the first time I'd felt this way since Professor Zeusoo dragged me underwater in scuba gear to scrape barnacles off his yacht, only to run into a shark pack and swim all the way to the Pacific.
Calm down. This could actually be a golden opportunity, right?
If I botched this in front of the executives, my performance review would tank instantly. Then resignation—or even demotion—would be within reach. But here's the catch: I had to toe the line between "sloppy" and "incompetent," or else...
—Jo Iseo! You dragged us here to waste our precious time on this half-assed presentation?
—Let's all beat the crap out of him!
—Turn into a hell cockroach, ya punk!
One slip, and it wouldn't be firing—it'd be disassembly. So, for this presentation, I needed to at least look the part.
To do that, I had to come up with something—anything—that could pass as a merit of the Nymph Quota System. What were nymphs even good for?
"Nymph merits? Assistant Manager Jo Iseo, you're asking me, a nymph, that? It's kinda embarrassing to say it myself."
Siren Rilke scratched the back of her head sheepishly. No one was better to confide in about nymphs than her. Eurydol, Crowzer's ex, was too hipster for easy conversation. And Carnoy—
"This Carnoy doesn't get it, but pounding drums is fun...! So let's do the Dance of Joyous Nymphs...!"
Dum-chit-dum-chit.
I had no idea what Carnoy was on about. What about Paranoy, Prince Zagreus's secretary and the shadow power behind the safety team?
"Muhuhu, nymphs are native fairies—super excellent and superior folk...! Way better than those invasive ganphs...! No real evidence, though...!"
She brimmed with baseless confidence like that. Rilke, on the other hand, was perfect—easy to ask without the hype.
She perched on a recording studio chair, humming thoughtfully. "Nymph merits..."
"Feel free to speak casually. Even trivial stuff's fine."
"Ah! If it's merits, gotta be that one. They seem wary, but give 'em a little affection and they melt right away—super easy to seduce! That's why so many nymphs fall prey to men's fangs."
"......"
Was that a merit? Saying something like that as a pro for the Nymph Quota System? I'd be terrified of the fallout.
That's when—
—Hoo, hoo...!
The adorable married ghost Alcestis entered the recording studio. Beside her was Echo, Narcissus's live-in partner.
—Hoo hoo...!
Echo signed, while Alcestis spoke in ghost language. Eurydol, who'd been listening to our chat with bored indifference, stood up.
"No clue what either of you is saying."
Eurydol pressed her forehead to Alcestis's. After about ten seconds...
"Hell cockroaches are swarming outside the office, causing total chaos?"
I was stunned. I'd had no idea Eurydol was fluent in ghost language.
"You learned ghost language?"
"Nah. Nymphs like me who live in Soul Society can kinda read ghosts' thoughts by forehead-touching."
Why her specifically? Then I recalled Melinoë forehead-bumping Alcestis and figuring out her name. I'd thought it was a perk unique to the ghost goddess Melinoë.
Turns out it's a standard nymph skill?
Another nugget of nymph knowledge unlocked. If I'd put this in my grad school thesis, I'd have revolutionized academia.
"This Carnoy loves smashing hell cockroaches...!"
"Let's catch every last one of those pests...!"
Pabababat—!
The nymphs bolted off toward the hell cockroaches teeming outside E&S's agency.
"Nymph Skill: Massive Beating...!"
"Let's do it...!"
Dudududududu—.
The nymphs pummeled the cockroaches with their fists. And then, something amazing happened.
—Jjoji.
—Jjoo-jjik!
The hell cockroaches, who strutted fearlessly like park pigeons, scattered like mice spotting a tiger.
Arachne watched in awe. "Not quite up to lion spiders, but nymphs sure know how to hunt hell cockroaches."
Come to think of it, Melinoë had once casually smashed a chunky "section chief-level" roach by hand at my place. Not a goddess exclusive—another nymph standard skill.
That's when lightning struck my brain. An idea that might get me fired without getting dismantled!
# # #
Adjustment Officer
The Final Interviewer of Incompetents
God of Ruin and Fate – Moros
The conference room hosting the emergency shareholders' meeting. A man sat there with a skull helmet like a crown. His eyes gleamed an eerie purple.
He was Moros. Alongside siblings Keres and Thanatos, he formed one-third of the Three Death Gods, revered since ancient times. He embodied humanity's inevitable doom and ruin. Fittingly, he handled "adjustment executive" duties at the company—demotions, firings, the final stop for useless employees. His authority was immense; even the great Chairman hesitated to challenge his decisions. Thus, he was core to the "Night Faction" with the audit team and Thanatos.
"In five minutes, it all gets decided."
Moros's mood was foul. Buried in backlog, yet stuck here for nonsense like the Nymph Quota System.
The other executives' faces weren't cheerful either, though unspoken.
Princess Melinoë and Prince Zagreus fumble their chance to save crisis-ridden Soul Society, only to blow it like this.
Moros pitied and sneered at the composed Melinoë across the room. Pushing something as absurd as the Nymph Quota System to save the company? And entrusting the key presentation to a mere mortal?
Moros saw opportunity. Assistant Manager Jo Iseo, the hot topic lately. His achievements are overhyped, in my view.
Depending on this presentation, "adjustment" was in order. Demotion or firing if needed. Or if he dared deceive the executives with cheap lies... hell cockroach transformation.
The executives bristled, attitudes screaming: Show us your tricks—we'll judge ruthlessly.
Even the vengeful goddess Alecto would've agreed once. But Jo Iseo's recent feats had shaken her.
Jo Iseo, I know you're capable now. But isn't this stage too soon? Even executives dread shareholders' presentations.
Now a key audit team member, his failure would hurt them badly. Moros's purple gaze burned, ready to nitpick.
Alecto nudged Melinoë's side. "Mel, better say it was a joke now. Bruised pride, but avoids disaster."
Failure meant Melinoë forfeiting her shares, barring her from executive meetings. Forgotten gods faded away—and all gods feared oblivion most.
Yet Melinoë stayed calm. "Jo Iseo would never do anything to hurt me. He adores and worships me. That's why I trust him."
Her foot fidgeted under the table. Unnoticed.
5 seconds, 4, 3—
Countdown to presentation time.
1 second.
Clunk.
The door opened. A man entered, back straight, exuding confidence. Some executives were impressed.
"Fearless mortal."
"Praise for not running?"
"Let's see what nonsense he spouts."
Snap.
Jo Iseo glanced at his papers. Script?
"No need for this."
Whoosh—he scattered them into the air. The audacious display stunned everyone.
Then Jo Iseo wrote boldly on a large board:
Ghostification
Hell Cockroach Activity
"The two biggest problems facing Soul Society, in my view. Solve these first, and the stock volatility from the rebels stabilizes."
That moment, the most bored man there—Moros—jolted in shock.
He pinpointed Soul Society's eternal twin headaches!? Level 0 classified, executives-only intel. How'd he know?
But cynicism curled his lips. They're headaches because no one's solved them.
Ghostification and hell cockroach activity had plagued Soul Society forever, unsolved by anyone. A mere mortal solving them—
"Hire tons of nymphs, and it's all fixed. Nymphs can talk to ghosts, enabling communication. They chase off hell cockroaches too. That's it."
Absurd. Nymphs? Just nymphs?
The long-silent Chairman spoke. "One-week trial. Each department hires short-term contract nymphs for testing. But if no results... prepare yourselves."
"...Understood!"