065 – Married Women's Hell #1
“Look at this! We’ve got a ton of these health elixirs! Hiya, made by Luna Nixdoty, wife of Prince Zagreus!”
Hector Manager was making a huge fuss. The Audit Team 1 office was buried under stacks of boxes, each one packed full of herbal medicine pouches.
“Taste is godawful, but the effects? Tremendous! I hear it’s fantastic at delaying ghostification! A real body tonic like no other!”
Delaying ghostification? No wonder Hector was losing it. In this Soul Society, death wasn’t the end—just a pit stop. But ghostification? Turning into one of those cute little round ghosts meant forgetting all your precious memories. That was the real death everyone dreaded.
So an elixir that slowed it down? To souls, that was priceless treasure.
“Jo Manager! Heard you were a star at the wedding anniversary event! Tracked down that spider, even smoothed out the mother-in-law drama? Thanks to you, we’re living large!”
Hector’s sockets were practically glistening with teary gratitude. Even Narcissus Assistant piped up.
“Hiya, getting on that weird goddess’s good side? Real talent. I don’t envy many folks, but damn, Jo Manager—you’ve got me jealous.”
Praise hit harder than those herbs. Still, I’d gained something big from the ordeal: never, ever get tangled up with tiny critters like squirrels or spiders. Especially if they start barking their heads off. Steer clear, always.
Living long enough for even animals to screw me over. Unbelievable.
I slipped out of the office’s hahaha-ho-ho cheerful vibe and wandered the HQ garden. The hell cacti planted everywhere—those sharp, pointy spines were a real comfort to my soul.
“You guys are the best.”
No more squirrels or spiders for the rest of my life. Just these bad boys for me.
“From now on, you’re Happy Cacti.”
—Whirr!
—Whirr! Whirr!
Call it my own little business renewal project. Happy Cacti. Naming them made them look even cuter.
“Heh heh heh.”
Some cactus therapy, and my mood softened right up. That’s when someone called out to me.
“Excuse me—where’s the Employee Welfare Department?”
She was lugging hefty bundles, sleek build with golden hair tied back—a knockout beauty you could spot as a married woman from a mile away. Odds of a stunner like her being single? Basically zero.
“Looking for your husband?”
“Yeah. Hippomenes in Welfare. Gotta deliver lunch for him and his team. First time at HQ, so I’m totally lost…”
Lunch for the hubby and his colleagues? Peak devoted wife material. This was inner support in action. Husbands with wives like that were the ones who made it big.
“Welfare’s on 44. Tough to find your first time. Hit the lobby—nymph guide’ll point you right. They’re helpful.”
“Thanks! Oh, here—a little thank-you for the directions.”
The woman who’d ID’d herself as Hippomenes’s wife pulled something from her pocket. A small bean candy. Crunch—nutty flavor exploded in my mouth.
Tiny interaction, but it felt good. On that note, why not spread some goodwill and refresh my spirits? I decided to share my share of the elixirs with folks I knew.
“Oh! Manager Jo!”
“Gah, Jo—”
First up: the Crates and Kshalri couple. Crates went pale at the sight of me, but lit up when he saw the elixir.
“This is Nixdoty Goddess’s stuff? Why give something this rare to us!?”
“I owe Kshalri big time. Ma’am, keep tipping me off if any cacti show up.”
Happy Cacti thrived on numbers. But Kshalri didn’t look thrilled today.
“Something wrong? Crates screw up again?”
The couple exchanged glances. After a beat, Crates stepped up like he was taking one for the team.
“It’s the women’s association. Got an invite letter for the wife recently.”
“...Women’s association? That club for wives of HQ employees?”
Basically a social clique. As a single guy, it was way out of my league—just vaguely knew it existed.
“But Crates, you’re not even HQ staff. Why’s Kshalri getting an invite?”
“Nix—who doubles as association president—descended on Happy World. Guess she’s expanding her reach there too.”
Crates glanced around warily, then whispered.
“Since you hooked us up with elixir... steer clear of the women’s association. If they mark you, you’re done for.”
“Like, dead?”
Death-by-housewives? Terrifying. Crates elaborated.
“Figurative. Rumor is Bones Manager and the skeleton prez got bounced from HQ Audit because of them.”
“What!?”
I yelped in shock. Marked by them meant demotion!?
Kshalri chimed in, voice laced with worry. “Worst part? Meetings are a nightmare, like old-school high society. I’ve only heard stories…”
Perfect. Course set.
“This women’s association stinks. Time to dig.”
“What? Jo, no! Even you messing with them is suicide! Wanna torch your promotions!?”
Crates was ghost-white. His panic just sealed it.
Back at the office—
—I handed Hector my declaration of war.
“I’ll investigate the women’s association.”
Hector’s bony face went ashen.
“You planning to shove a sugar-coated hand into a hornet’s nest? We know your skills are top-tier! But the women’s association? That’s another world entirely! Even execs tread lightly!”
“Exactly why we gotta poke it.”
“Everything has its season. Not yet. Not yet. Jo, take some leave. Cool that fiery zeal.”
This was the problem. Soul Society bosses were such stand-up guys, getting hated was impossible.
# # #
Hector trudged home and let out a deep sigh that rattled his proud bones.
“Hoo…”
“Honey, what’s got you sighing like that?”
His wife, Andromache, approached with a steaming cup of tea.
“Even when that savage Achilles bellowed your name outside Troy’s walls, you never sighed.”
“Achilles was a lion. Lions, you fight or flee. But Jo Manager? He’s a typhoon. My subordinate, yet utterly beyond my control.”
Slurp. Hector sipped the tea his wife had brewed. But it was off.
“Pomegranate tea... with salt instead of honey or sugar?”
“Oh god, what’s wrong with me? I’ll remake it.”
“Nah, hits different sometimes.”
Hector eyed his flustered wife. Still beautiful, but those dark circles didn’t suit her—like a raccoon or panda.
“Women’s association meeting again today?”
“Yep. Stayed up all night rolling kimbap for the exec wives. Whew, if even a manager’s wife like me has it rough... pity the regular staff wives.”
Andromache recalled Hector’s grunt days. Back then, she’d been at the mercy of wives with higher-ranking husbands—their whispers and backstabbing were hell.
If they shopped, she lugged their bags. If they prepped kimchi, she hauled cabbage and seasonings on standby.
Couldn’t say no, either.
The wives’ influence was ironclad. Screw up with some assistant manager’s wife, and she’d badmouth Hector to her own hubby. So Andromache threw herself into the association, grinding her bones to dust. That’s how Hector climbed to HQ manager—the pinnacle for mortals.
“Dear, I’m so grateful. Without you, I’d never have made it. In Soul Society, promotions demand the women’s association pull.”
Hector thought of Jo Manager. Single. No association backup, no networking push-pull. Tough to hit assistant manager without it.
“No matter how stellar Jo is, the women’s association might be his kryptonite.”
The next day, Hector learned Jo hadn’t shown.
“On leave, resting. Good.”
Relief washed over him. Same time—
Women’s association meeting. Newbie Atalante shrank under the heat.
“Atalante, your lunch gave my hubby the runs!”
“Mine too! Asked you for one day since I was swamped!”
“Never happened when I was manager’s wife—”
Atalante. Once the huntress princess, genius heroine who made male legends quake. But now? Just a manager’s wife getting reamed by assistant and manager wives.
In Soul Society, women’s ranks were crystal-clear. Better to be a manager’s wife than a manager yourself. Power stemmed from hubby’s title, not your own skills. Atalante—who’d thrived solo—couldn’t fathom it.
But to support her new Welfare Manager husband, adaptation was key.
“...Sorry...”
“Oh, Andromache! Come in! Cake I baked yesterday—try some?”
“Atalante! What’re you doing? Help with the bags!”
“It’s fine. I’ll carry mine.”
Wives clawed to impress higher-rank husbands’ wives. This was their social battlefield, all-in stakes. The hell of Tartarus, rebranded Happy World, lurked here.
Then—
Creeeak.
The door swung open. A man stepped in.
“Hello. Jo Iseo from Audit Team 1, here as daily observer and participant for the women’s association.”
Huh? That guy from yesterday—
Atalante, cowed by the hazing, recalled the prior day as the wives lit up.
“You really came!”
“Thought it was a joke when you messaged! Come on in!”