087 – Fluffy Ghosts Only Like Me #1
Mrs. Pandora ran an antique shop here in Pandora Market. In fact, it was she who first started buying and selling all sorts of odds and ends in Soul Society, which became the origin of this very market.
Her shop looks more like a mansion.
Mrs. Pandora held the title of the first human woman in Greek mythology. That made her the oldest ghost around, and the wealth she'd accumulated over endless ages was on a whole different level from your average specter.
The fascinating part is that unlike other ghosts, she hasn't lost her memories.
In this Soul Society, souls that weathered away over long periods turned into round, fluffy ghosts. Once that happened, people forgot everything about themselves. All that remained was their identity as cute little 'ghosts.' But Mrs. Pandora was a ghost who had kept her memories and sense of self intact.
"Young sprout, don't you know it's rude to stare so piercingly at a lady's form?"
The round, fluffy ghost that was Mrs. Pandora greeted me in the parlor. Her spherical body was several times larger than the average ghost's—and probably just as soft.
Honestly, she's pretty damn cute.
She looked like a massive stuffed doll, crammed full of cotton inside white fabric. Hugging one to sleep would feel cool and comfy. Of course, saying that out loud might get me slapped with sexual harassment charges. Then my skull would end up smashed to bits the Melinoë way.
"Market manager Mrs. Pandora, it's an honor to meet you. The reason I came is to ask about the owner of Nureongi."
"Nureongi? You mean that giant spider? Her owner was a plucky little kid. She kept coming to me every day, asking how she could open the spider's eyes."
Just as I thought—Mrs. Pandora was the living history of this market. She knew who Nureongi's owner was!
"I was the one who told that kid where to find hell onions. But with an ordinary soul's body, it'd be tough to get them. I figured she'd fail."
"So where is that owner now?"
"Probably turned into a cute, round ghost like me. Once that happens, you can pretty much kiss finding them goodbye. How many souls have become residents of Soul Society over the years? And how many of those are ghosts?"
People are born in droves and die in droves. The departed souls become residents of Soul Society, and eventually, they all undergo ghostification and turn into ghosts.
In other words, Soul Society was overflowing with countless ghosts.
"And ghosts don't even remember who they are. Finding that boy—the spider's owner—among them? Impossible. Even if the Goddess of Ghosts herself stepped in."
So Nureongi's owner had become impossible for even Melinoë to track down. But then Mrs. Pandora added something intriguing in a quiet voice.
"Of course, if that goddess Melinoë gained more shares and awakened to greater power, who knows? That young god hasn't yet opened her eyes to her true strength."
"True strength?"
"Yes, her true strength. Why? Interested?"
"No! Not at all!"
From my experience, anything involving Melinoë was best avoided. Get tangled up, and suddenly you're rolling through an antitank minefield in full plate armor, racking up achievements left and right.
"You don't meddle in executives' business, right?"
"Wise choice. To survive long in Soul Society, stay out of the executives' affairs—especially the CEO family's. The more censored something is, the more so."
Censored. That word reminded me why I'd come to see Mrs. Pandora.
Flip.
I pulled a thick stack of documents from my pocket and offered them to her. But she got upset.
"If you want to show me something, flip the pages yourself. My hands are so round, it's hard to turn paper."
"Got it."
Flip, flip.
I turned a few pages. They were all the same anyway—just full of redactions from censorship.
"While digging through old records on this market, I found stacks of censored documents like these. Why were the market's past events redacted and erased like this?"
At my question, Mrs. Pandora pulled out some thread from somewhere and snipped off a length, laying it across the table in front of me.
"The Fates, goddesses of destiny, govern the beginning and end of all things. They decide fates like this thread. Human palm lines are a glimpse of that."
Palm lines had that function? I'd thought lines like fate, life, and love were all nonsense. But if they represented destinies set by the Fates, you could really divine a person's fate from their palms.
Mrs. Pandora continued her explanation.
"But sometimes, in this Soul Society, there are deviations—paths that escape that destiny. Know why?"
"Miracle shares, maybe?"
"Right. Shares create people who walk paths even the Fates can't see. But those paths usually end badly, so they get censored out of necessity."
"So, unexpected events happened in this Pandora Market that even the Fates couldn't foresee, leading to the censorship and erasure."
"Best not to get involved. Things buried underground have their reasons. But who knows—there might be valuable treasures too. Young Jo Iseo, the choice is yours."
Dig into the censorship or not. My gut said if you've got the shovel, dig.
And Mrs. Pandora seemed to read my mind.
"I heard you boasted you'd revive this market on your own power. Uncovering those censored events might be the key to doing just that."
Back at the development HQ, the chairman—who'd been filing his finger bones with a saw—saw me and clacked his teeth sharply.
"Met with market manager Mrs. Pandora? But from your face, doesn't seem like you heard anything groundbreaking."
"Just vague, cloudy talk."
"That's her style. Long-timers in Soul Society never give straight answers. Best to let it go in one ear and out the other—no headaches."
The chairman was cynical at worst, realistic at best—a skeleton type. Different from the positive powerhouse managers I'd met, which was refreshing.
Having such a pessimistic boss above me means work might actually fail.
From the start, he's all 'you're doomed' and 'we'll fail'—draining my energy, which was perfect.
"Still, Vice Chairman Jo, you did great with the west gate. Used Nureongi's sad tale as bait to lure out Prince Zagreus's wife. Take a look."
Flip.
"This is a real estate contract for opening a health spa called 'Mountain and Moon' at the west gate of Pandora Market. Signed by Crown Princess Nixdoty herself. Impressive results."
The handwriting was crooked and hard to read.
I got curious. "Why 'Mountain and Moon'?"
"The prince was called Hot Mountain back on earth, right? So mountain. Nixdoty's full name is Luna Nixdoty, so moon. Symbolizes their bond."
Oh. Pretty romantic. Is that what lovers do? Wonder what mine and Melinoë's shop would be called.
Of course, that'll never happen—and shouldn't. No need to imagine.
Anyway, back to reality.
The chairman patted my back.
"Lure in a celebrity shop for foot traffic and spillover effects—that's a tactic I considered years ago but never pulled off. But you..."
Thrust.
He handed me a thick bundle of papers.
"You might be qualified to read and execute the operation plan I agonized over for years. This time could be different."
Operation plan? Reading that might lead to success!
So I chucked the bundle into the nearby blazing campfire heater.
"No need to look at this."
Whoosh.
The papers caught fire instantly. Seeing that, the chairman was even more impressed.
"Figuring out the plan I handed you was fake? Pass. The real one's this."
What? I took the 'real' one and tossed it into the fire too.
Whoosh.
Burning bundle. The chairman's eyes gleamed brighter.
"Spotting the second was fake without reading? The real one's actually the third stack."
"Chairman, be straight. How many bundles are there?"
"About ten."
"Burn 'em all."
"But one of them's real?"
"They're all plans you tried and failed with anyway. Fundamentally flawed."
"Sharp as ever. No wonder Hector covers for you. But to earn my good opinion, you can't just be a keen blade. To gain recognition from this Odysseus—"
"Wait, Odysseus?"
The red-haired skeleton chairman was Odysseus? The Greek hero dubbed the 'last hero'—mastermind of the Trojan Horse, protagonist of the Odyssey!
Admired for overcoming trials with wisdom and cunning.
Which was the problem.
Working with this guy violates my iron rule: 'Keep the worthless close, the competent far.' Is there anyone more competent than Odysseus? Why's he lounging here? Wait, not important now. Sticking with him means I'll rack up achievements without trying!
"Chairman Odysseus. Straight talk: Among your market revival ops, is there one that's the most dangerous, arduous, and impossible?"
"Most dangerous? I thought beating sly Sisyphus put you in the strategist class like me. Guess you're more the Achilles berserker type."
"So, is there?"
"There is. One so risky—a cliff-edge fall if it fails—that I never dared execute."
Perfect! That's what I wanted.
But the red-haired Odysseus hesitated.
"From my view, you've tasted success drawing crowds to the west gate, so maybe you're rushing. This op's still too much for you."
"Guess we see when we try."
"Fine. The north gate of this market—coveted by all, but eventually shunned even to approach—"
"North gate!"
No need to hear more. North gate means something's up, right?
"Man, he left without hearing the end."
Odysseus recalled the Trojan War, where he'd laughed and cried with countless comrades. Even amid generals like Achilles and Hector striving for glory...
...no one thirsted for demerits like that guy.
Jo was incredibly capable—he'd breathed life into the west gate market in under a week. Still, even he would taste despair at the north gate. Odysseus knew from experience.
"After all, that place is tied to the 'Phantom Nymph.'"
The Phantom Nymph. The north gate was deeply linked to a being whose very existence was questionable now—and it was hell itself, crushing the dreams of countless adventurers and entrepreneurs.
No matter how capable employee Jo was, he'd meet despair there.
Odysseus soothed his bitter heart and gazed at the photo album on his desk. He missed his wife terribly—they hadn't met in years.
'Promised I'd go back once I revived the market...'