062 – Prepare the Worst Gift! #1
“Zagreus the prince is a man who loves parties. That's why he's close with Dionysus, the god of festivals. Dionysus and I go way back too, though...”
Crowzer trailed off into reminiscence as he picked up his fourth chicken leg. He seemed to be thinking back to the days when he'd liven up a dead party atmosphere with his lyre.
Next to him, Deputy Narcissus grabbed the fourth wing.
“The prince's banquets are partner-accompany events, so it's tough to get in without a date. Echo and I went once, so I know.”
Deputy Na and Echo at a party? I glanced over at the pure, kind nymph Echo. She must've felt our stares from afar, because she waved cheerfully.
“Of course, Echo was just an ALBA server carrying plates, and I was a staffer pouring wine. But still, not just anyone can enter the banquet hall—that alone was a huge honor! Ahem!”
Deputy Narcissus puffed out his chest proudly.
In other words, it was a banquet so exclusive that even mortals dreamed of sneaking in as plate-washers or wine servers. And I'd received an invitation to one.
Why? Because of this bracelet.
“I've said it a million times, but I didn't take down those Hell Cockroaches—this bracelet and snake voodoo did. This guy right here.”
I pointed to the bracelet coiled meekly around my wrist. Both Crowzer and Deputy Narcissus burst out laughing.
“Manager Jo, you have zero talent for jokes! I've never heard of a bracelet beating Hell Cockroaches!”
“Manager Jo, mark my words: too much humility just gets you hate. You've gotta brag a little!”
No, it's true. If I could show them how viciously it thrashed around, they'd get it—but now it was playing innocent bracelet. Utterly ridiculous.
Even more ridiculous? This.
“These days, it seems like the trendy chickens have no wings or legs. I clearly ordered two, so where'd they all go?”
“Ahem, well, life's full of legless chickens sometimes. Just like there are bards who can't sing anymore...”
Crowzer hastily set down the chicken leg bone he'd been holding. Beside him, Deputy Narcissus, who'd been gnawing on a wing bone, suddenly looked away.
“Wings? No idea what you're talking about.”
Genius slacker Crowzer and selfish Deputy Narcissus. Thanks to them, my plate was left with only the tasteless breast meat.
Damn it.
I tore into the breast meat in a fury, and Moros, who'd been watching the scene, flashed a glint of approval from behind his sunglasses.
“Eating only the healthy breast meat. Manager Jo, your disciplined, ascetic diet is something everyone should emulate.”
KYANG...!
Even scoring points for eating the scraps others left behind. This must be why office life is so damn hard.
“That barking critter's a dog squirrel! Man, it's been ages since I saw a live one. Eurydol loved dog squirrels...”
Crowzer started bawling.
Now that he mentioned it, the squirrel barking like a dog was apparently a real species called a dog squirrel. Whoever named it sure phoned it in.
Soon, Moros took a seat at our table and asked,
“Jo, you're planning to attend Prince Zagreus's event, right?”
“No.”
“I thought it was fishy from the start when a head office manager personally led the extermination team. Never imagined you'd catch the eye of my baby sister Nixdoty and snag an invite.”
“No, really, that's not it.”
“It never hurts to cozy up to the next-gen chairman. More precisely, impress his wives. Everyone knows how much he dotes on them.”
Hold up. An idea flashed in my mind right then.
There's this thing called pillow talk.
It refers to a wife whispering requests or pleas to her husband in bed. Greek myths are full of it. Queen Hera's famous scene in the Trojan War, seducing Zeus in bed to keep him from leaving her side while she got her way—that's a classic.
My hunch is Cronus's descendants are weak to their wives' pleas.
Look at Crowzer. Even the Chairman bent his iron will at Persephone's kimchi-pickle-goddess request and allowed dead Eurydice one shot at revival.
Thinking back, it was insane. Even a living guy like me can't easily return to Earth. And they were talking about sending back a corpse.
A genetic weakness to wives' begging. It's in Cronus's bloodline.
High chance Prince Zagreus can't say no to his wives' requests either. So the target I need to piss off for my firing is crystal clear!
How had I not thought of this sooner? Speak first, aim later if you want to survive. The fact that a hopelessly average guy like me couldn't even dream up this scheme—and now sits as a head office manager hailed as competent—is just depressing.
“These fried chicken legs aren't half bad. I figured it was junk food for the lower classes, but... Do you know any other spots like this?”
“We do. There's a place where one order of pork stir-fry gets you unlimited refills on rice and side dishes. Sometimes you're lucky and get egg rolls or braised beef in the mix!”
“Good. We'll have dinner there soon. I'm curious if the refills are truly unlimited.”
Of course they weren't. Ten refills max.
“Guess the crowd drew too much attention. Last time I went alone, I refilled like 22 times and even packed extras for the next day...”
What? That slacker Crowzer!
I shot a nervous glance, wondering if Moros would fire the cheeky bastard on the spot. But Moros just laughed.
“Paying for one meal and eating like that? Shameless, you punk.”
“It's fine. I left my autograph on the wall instead.”
“Autograph? What's that worth?”
“Plenty! This Crowzer's signature will one day fetch a fortune in the Soul Society!”
“Ugh, I'm stuffed. Think it's about time for Echo to clock out, so I'll head. See you later, Manager Jo, Crowzer. Take care, Sir Moros.”
Deputy Narcissus waved wildly as he left. Watching his back, Crowzer teared up again.
“There was a time I'd wait for my girlfriend and head home together. Now I just get greeted by giant Hell Cockroaches.”
“I get it. Coming home to an empty house feels pretty damn lonely to me too. Got a friend these days, so it's better.”
KYANG...!
Is this the inevitable topic when single working guys gather, status be damned? Loneliness and solitude.
Moros soon turned to me.
“So, have you decided on the big issue? The prince's banquet requires a partner. Can't go solo. Finding an opposite-sex date is priority one.”
A partner, huh. It hit me that snagging one for a plus-one event wouldn't be easy.
Why? Because of Melinoë.
No matter who I picked, she'd go, “How dare you pick another woman over me? Smash. Cock. Roach. Yap!” and bash my skull.
But taking Melinoë would just summon a nymph fiasco like last time, turning everything into chaos and dooming me.
I pondered this deeply. After half a day of agonizing deliberation, I found a brilliant solution.
###
Melinoë was at home, watching TV.
“Just call him already!”
Housekeeper Alcestis, sharing the sofa, fumed at the drama on screen. The heroine was suffering alone over a problem that could've been fixed with one phone call to the hero—instead, she just moped and cried.
“What a spineless woman! Love means chasing and claiming it!”
Alcestis lived blissfully with Admetus like lovebirds, and she was always the bolder one.
The goddess Melinoë chuckled at her. “Not quite. You can't cling to a man.”
“Huh? Why not? If you like him, go straight for it, right?”
“No. Men are all hunters. They love chasing, hate being chased. A woman must always stay worth pursuing.”
“Ooh! So that's why you're waiting without texting back, Lady Melinoë?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That communicator. You've been staring at it nonstop.”
Alcestis smirked slyly. Melinoë pocketed the device and whipped her head away.
“Nothing. Just felt like time was dragging.”
Truth was, Melinoë was waiting for a certain call.
I hand-delivered the invite myself, so it should come any minute.
Zagreus's wedding anniversary bash was grander than any festival. Everyone wanted in for the “special gift” given to guests.
Not that I care much about going.
It wasn't a wedding, just an “anniversary celebration.” Seemed over the top.
Even I, his sister, can't enter without an invite.
So Melinoë planned to decline any invitation to attend.
But if someone desperately begged her? She wouldn't mind gracing the event with them. Turning down earnest pleas wasn't goddess-like.
The drama ended. It was Alcestis's quitting time.
“Lady Melinoë, I'm off. My husband's picking me up, so no need to see me out. Hope that call comes soon!”
Alcestis left with a mischievous laugh. Hours passed. Midnight. Melinoë frowned.
She picked up her communicator, hesitated, then dialed a number.
“Jo, I was calling to tell you the invite you got actually came in two—there's one for a partner too. Means you need a plus-one. Just in case you forgot.”
Melinoë recalled her own words.
Chasing women lack appeal.
“Of course, I wasn't planning to go, but if you're partnerless, as a merciful goddess saving a poor guy... Huh?”
Melinoë's face twisted.
“You already found a partner?”
Flames erupted in the goddess's eyes.
Melinoë decided she needed to check out whatever woman Jo had roped in.
He might've been duped by some scheming vixen. Happens to great gods and heroes all the time—nothing weird.
Protecting and watching over her followers was goddess basics. A staple in Queen Hera's “Goddess Fundamentals.”
I'll go see for myself what kind of woman she is.