070 – A Father Like the Sky #1
“Sigh.”
Everyone sighs deeply at some point in life. Today was my turn.
“Manager Jo, it’s a rare weekend outing to Elysium. Why the sighs? Cheer up a bit!”
Crowzer slapped my back as we strolled through the sleek city streets. Deputy Narcissus chimed in, chomping on a hot dog he’d bought from a street vendor.
“Yeah! Got something bugging you? Spill it—we might be able to help. We’re soulmates, right? Isn’t that true, Lord Moros?”
“Mortals, don’t forget I’m just here to supervise you. Making sure your little gang doesn’t cause trouble or get dragged into some disastrous ordeal.”
Moros said that while scooping pint ice cream loaded with almonds. The almonds went to the squirrel-dog perched on his shoulder.
Pong pong…!
The reason for my sighs? The massive incident from last Friday.
Lady Melinoë’s bombshell declaration. About our “contract dating.”
“Suppose you successfully complete a task and receive a reward. What if that reward is excessively inflated and exaggerated compared to your abilities or achievements?”
The project Chairman Hades had personally assigned me: completing Daedalus’s outsourced goods.
Succeed, and I’d end up contract-dating Lady Melinoë.
How did it come to this? Beats me. I could kinda guess her thoughts but never predict them fully.
Dating a goddess? For a guy like me? No way in hell.
Of course, it was a contract date. But with no explanation of the terms, and the chairman and princess suddenly vanishing, I’d been on pins and needles every day.
“A reward? What a luxurious worry. This Crowzer can’t even remember the last time he got one—instead, it’s all punishments.”
“Jo, did you score another reward? Man, even I, Narcissus, am jealous.”
The duo of worthless mortals wasn’t helping. What about executive Moros?
“I reward my little squirrel-dog when she obeys commands. Sit. Roll over. Stay. Solve Fermat’s Last Theorem, and so on. Obey well, and she gets a treat.”
His purple eyes gleamed faintly.
“But I don’t think it’s excessive. Rewards are given for deserving performances. The giver decides the value, not the receiver.”
No. I disagree.
Dating a goddess? Even if I’d liberated a nation, it’d be too much.
But… thinking it over, maybe I was over-stressing. No need to borrow trouble—like chugging kimchi soup first.
‘Rewards only come if I succeed. Just fail to finish within the week, and I’m golden.’
The chairman himself said Daedalus’s project had stumped even Prince Zagreus.
If a prince versed in kingly arts couldn’t do it, could a lowly mortal like me?
‘Nope!’
I knew my limits. No arrogance, no overconfidence. That was my strength.
‘So, no worries needed here.’
Just sit idle. Time would flow on honestly. Deadline hits, failure bells ring.
‘So why’s my gut churning?’
Sitting still felt wrong. Life never went my way—experience had taught me that repeatedly. No guarantee this time would differ.
“I hear this hell sweet-and-sour pork joint is killer. Can I drown it in sauce?”
“Crowzer, what? Pour sauce and it gets soggy! Lord Moros! Give this idiot a talking-to!”
“I’m not picky about food.”
We’d arrived at the Chinese restaurant. A popular spot in Elysium New City, holding a 4.7 rating. But my mind was so jumbled, I couldn’t even tell where the food was going.
As the meal wrapped up:
“Thinking of getting a car soon. Lots of dilemmas. Looking at Olympian forges’ SUVs, but the price tag’s brutal—”
“Olympian for your first ride? Too hardcore. Underground Cyclops brothers make solid, affordable stuff. What do you drive, Lord Moros?”
“Public transit.”
Guy talk naturally turned to cars. Suddenly, opportunity knocked.
“What about Daedalus? Famous inventor. Makes cars and appliances down here too, right? Heard the employee terminals are his work.”
Scouting the enemy seemed fine. Know thyself and thy foe, win every battle.
“Daedalus? Quite the man. Word is, he designed and built this Elysium New City. Even this Crowzer respects his artistic genius.”
The gods’ city, Elysium. Skyscrapers like Shanghai or New York, neon streets—all his design. Impressive guy.
“True, but from what I know, he’s not thriving lately. Found out during last year’s big audit on the facilities team. His recent performance sucks.”
Narcissus’s words perked my ears. Genius engineer Daedalus underperforming?
“Why the bad performance?”
“Well…”
Narcissus glanced at Moros. Hesitant to spill in front of an exec.
But Moros explained himself:
“Post-Business Renewal, Daedalus has holed up in his workshop with no results. He’s on my layoff list. Just draining salary.”
His eyes flashed.
“Prince Zagreus tried motivating him personally but failed. But Manager Jo, showing interest? Don’t tell me—this ties to that reward talk…?”
“Manager Jo, planning to tackle Daedalus yourself for a promotion? As expected of Happy World’s devil. Your thirst for merit rivals a chimera’s.”
“Jo, you sly dog!”
Monday came. I’d hoped to dodge errands, thanks to Narcissus’s fuss.
“Manager Jo says he’ll handle Daedalus himself! Facilities team’s results were inflated anyway.”
“Whoa, cleared the father-daughter meeting mess last week, now gunning for Daedalus? Jo, you scare me…”
Manager Hector trembled. Alecto, preening her wings in her office, slammed her feet on the desk and bellowed:
“If we fix what even that arrogant prince couldn’t, Audit Team 1 leaps ahead of Team 2. Great! Bring all Daedalus docs!”
Piles of papers thudded before me.
No intent to succeed, I skimmed half-assedly. Mostly incomprehensible machine blueprints and equations to a layman like me.
Then something caught my eye. A crayon sketch on sketchbook paper: sun and clouds, taped raggedly where torn.
“What’s this?”
“From the facilities audit. Not important—wonder how it got mixed in. Give it here! I’ll toss it.”
Hector’s diligence soured my mood. Bosses like him make subordinates succeed too.
Thus, Manager Hector was my enemy!
“Haha! Even you missed this gem. Can’t trash it. This sketch trumps all other docs. Shred the rest—I just need this.”
“Huh?”
Alecto arched a brow.
“I could draw better with my feet. Why’s it the key? And shred the rest?”
Normal reaction. I’d just blurted nonsense.
“I’ll prove it. Now, I’m clocking out.”
“Whoa, Jo. Quitting at 2 PM? Your guts and record make me jealous! So jealous!”
Shredder whirred as I bolted.
“Oof! Manager Jo!”
Yellow hair ahead. Too late to hide.
“Bumping into you here—pure chance! Or fate?”
The chick-skinned bull charged, pounding my shoulders till my bones rattled.
“Heard you crushed the father-daughter club! That’s why you’re off early—awesome! I wanna quit at 2 too!”
“Hedone, what’re you doing outside HQ this hour?”
“Hehehe, a change in Manager Jo! Lady’s secret!”
“Wasn’t curious.”
“It’s not—”
“Not curious.”
“Meeting facilities folks! Happy World’s fake sun’s busted—flickering! It shone super bright lately, thanks to you guiding Sisyphus!”
Ugh. Hedone and her heartbreaking lines.
She spun around me, spotting the paper in my hand.
“That! RUS artwork, right? Got merch myself!”
She pulled a hand mirror from her bag, decorated with a crudely drawn sun—same style as my crayon sketch.
“Manager, it’s hot right now! Whoa, authentic? Trend-sensing perfection! Too cool—gasp, puhehehe—thud!”
Hedone collapsed.
A dusty backroom atop metal scraps. A man tested iron rods on his desk, then snapped irritably.
“Not this!”
He bolted up. Gaunt cheeks, unkempt beard, hollow eyes—like a beggar. One leg faded ghostly.
Daedalus. Underworld’s top inventor, facilities chief.
He crumpled blueprints, chucking them in the trash, then slumped muttering:
“No inspiration.”
For years, he’d stagnated like a lightless soul.
Slumps happen, but his dragged on.
He eyed an empty frame. Whatever was inside had vanished with his spark.
Problem: no clue where that painting went.
He grabbed his terminal to search. Spotted an SNS post:
“That’s from my frame…!?”
Daedalus limped out, shocking staff.
“Chief!”
“Chief’s out after two years!”
In the spotlight, the recluse asked:
“Who the hell is Manager Jo?”