009 – The Old Man and the Field #2
“Honey, you're coming home early today, right?”
“Uh, probably...”
Crates mumbled evasively in response to his wife Kshalri's question. His commute had been erratic these past few days, so he couldn't be sure about today either.
“I've got this big project right now—nothing I can do about it. Once it's done, it'll reflect great on my performance review, and I might even get transferred to headquarters. Then you'll be hearing 'madam' again.”
Back when he was alive, Crates had been a prince. Of a minor kingdom, sure, but royalty was royalty, and his wife Kshalri had lived like a princess as the prince's spouse. Sure, she was just a housewife now, but...
In the Soul Society, headquarters was the divine workplace. For a mortal soul to work there was a greater honor than ruling as a king in life.
So if Crates landed a spot at headquarters, his wife Kshalri could live like a lofty, elegant madam again, just like in her queenly days.
“With the higher salary from headquarters, we could even move into one of those new Elysium apartments. You said you wanted to live in an apartment, remember?”
Instead of replying, Kshalri straightened the knot of Crates's tie and gently brushed his shoulders.
With that, Crates headed to work. Little Platan, the young boy, peered at the door where his father had vanished and asked softly,
“Mom, it's my birthday today. Think Dad will bring a present? I want a Nymphendo Switch 2. I've told him a bunch of times, but he doesn't seem to remember.”
“Dad's been busy with work lately. But for our little prince, Mom will make you a crown out of the flowers I planted. Look at this—”
Crates overheard his wife and son from just outside the door. His son's birthday. When was the last time he'd remembered one?
In this afterlife where time was vague, celebrating birthdays was rare. But lately, with the introduction of time concepts in the underworld, all sorts of customs were reviving.
Time. And the Titan of time, Cronus.
The massive collaboration project with Cronus.
Crates, deputy of Penalty Execution Team 1, clenched his fist. This time, he'd seize the opportunity by the forelock.
Joey, this marks the end of your lucky streak.
Joey had wasted nearly a fortnight building an office site in a garbage dump.
Meanwhile, Crates had scouted the prime real estate in all of Happy World.
If Joey fails to secure the Cronus collab, I'll swoop in and save the day.
Before long, Cronus arrived in downtown Happy World. Crates declared he'd handle the tour himself.
Before reaching Joey's pathetic plot, he'd show Cronus the best lands he'd selected. Their first stop: the hot springs.
“Lord Cronus, Happy World is famous for its health-boosting hot springs. Even headquarters execs come here often to relax.”
“Hmph.”
Cronus snorted. Not impressed? Then how about the second spot?
“This is the Golden Temple. I hear your era was called the Golden Age. If we collaborate, how about setting up the office here?”
“Eh, tsk tsk.”
Cronus clicked his tongue again. Not this one either? Only the ace third location remained: Happy World's central district, where hot springs and the golden temple converged.
But even there, Cronus recoiled.
“Ugh. What kinda place is this?”
Why? Crates found it baffling that Cronus rejected his carefully chosen sites. But on the flip side...
Cronus has real discernment. With standards this picky, he'll blow up at Joey's wasteland. Then Joey gets fired.
Finally, they reached Joey's wasteland. Cronus burst into tears.
“This is it. The exact place I've been searching for. Vast, barren, infertile land!”
Everyone was stunned as the Titan King wept genuine tears of emotion.
Crates was driven mad, utterly unable to comprehend.
“Lord Cronus, forgive my impertinence, but enlighten this unworthy mortal. Why does this useless land please you?”
It was borderline rude and irreverent. But Cronus, truly moved by Joey's site, graciously explained for all to understand.
“They call me the Titan of time. But truth be told, I was known longer as the Titan of agriculture. Tending soil, planting veggies—that was my duty, my essence.”
Cronus knelt, sifting the landfill dirt through his fingers, marveling at its crumbly texture.
“The underworld's full of veins and gems—heavy metals everywhere, no good for farming. Hot springs galore, too. But this... pure earth and soil.”
Ah!
Then it hit Crates why Cronus hated his picks. Land. Cronus just wanted plain old land.
“I have ears, too. I heard how Deputy Joey spent a fortnight scouring Happy World to find land suited to me. Most satisfying.”
Cronus was also the Titan of time. Joey's sincere sweat and heartfelt time invested seeped into the old giant god's soul.
Even my own children never showed me such devotion...
No one needed the unwanted prisoner, finger-pointed as a monster. Yet here was someone pouring heart into him. Cronus couldn't hold back tears.
Old and frail—but still worthy of respect. That's what it felt like.
“Fetch the contract. As long as Deputy Joey stays in the Soul Society, I'll gladly collaborate. Time will flow evenly henceforth.”
“So that's it! That's how it is! Deputy Joey, you've surpassed even me, who managed here for 300 years in Happy World!”
“Convincing Cronus? Unprecedented, even in the God Era! Hiya, Joey! I, Marquius, knew you could do it! Pay up, everyone—I won the bet!”
Woooah—! Cheers erupted everywhere.
Crates glared at today's hero, bitterness mixing with the sense of an insurmountable wall.
Deputy Joey. He just smiled.
Clang-! Clang-! Clang-!
An old man twice the size of most plowed the field. Furiously. Sweat pouring.
Happy World residents whispered as they watched.
“Making that vicious Titan do hard labor like that. What's that shrine guy's name again?”
“Joey. The guy who made Sisyphus bawl his eyes out.”
“Scary dude. Gotta be a demon.”
Did Cronus plowing look like a punished prisoner? Plenty seemed to think I'd ordered it.
At this point, I lacked the energy to clarify. They wouldn't believe me anyway.
How'd things end up like this? I just wanted to screw up, get fired.
Was failing at assigned work this hard?
How the hell do you even fail anymore?
I felt like I'd forgotten how. Maybe I was overthinking, but right now, tripping over a rock would probably uncover a gold vein.
Poke poke poke—. Just in case, I toed the nearby dirt—and yep, something gold-glinting. I hurriedly buried it.
No more gold veins, please.
“Here, veggies I grew myself—cabbage and radish! Sisyphus worked hard, so the fake underworld sun did its job. Amazing harvest!”
Cronus, harvest done, offered me produce. More whispers from onlookers.
“Extorting Cronus now?”
“Joey, you're terrifying... He really made Cronus cry!”
I'm going insane. Why does my notoriety keep rising?
“Lord Cronus, enjoying the work?”
I asked with a slight jab. This old guy's defiance had only worsened my mess. My workload was so bad, even meals were shorter.
Missing my sarcasm, the geezer grinned toothily.
“Heh! Just call me old timer. No need for stiff talk between us. And the work? Pure joy. Sweating for the fruits of labor—that's life. Real life.”
“If you say so!”
“Deputy Joey, I owe you big. All I got is radish and cabbage. But I got a bit of divine power left. Want my Grace?”
My forehead burned at Grace. Reminded me of getting it from hell's princess Melinoë. Gone now, but...
“Don't tell me I gotta kiss you for that Grace?”
“Nah, that's for young, immature gods. Or do you wanna kiss this old coot? I don't mind.”
Ew, hell no. I shook my head, and the old farming giant raised his hands high.
Heaven's tiller, soil-toucher Cronus bestows Grace upon Happy World's shrine Joey.
Young man, you're lucky. Not just anyone gets my Grace.
Hol hol hol—!
Makes sense for a god's blessing. Myths say heroes get them; in Happy World, that's manager level.
“So what exactly does your Grace do, Lord Cronus?”
“You'll know precisely when to water and fertilize plants. Hol hol hol hol—!”
I'd hoped for time-stopping. Kinda niche.
Clang-! Clang-!
The old god resumed digging rocks, sweating hard but beaming happily.
“Old timer, I'll enjoy the radish and cabbage. I'll check weekly to see if you're working well—keep at it.”
“This old man's fine if you visit daily.”
“That'd be rough on me.”
Pfft—. I chuckled lightly and headed to the office building.
In the Happy World office, Manager Bones sounded a fanfare.
“Section Chief Joey! Good news and happy news—which first?”
“Good news.”
“For safely wrapping the Cronus collab, you've been promoted to section chief! First time since founding! First! Expect more work ahead!”
Ugh—. Already drowning, now more? That's the bad news.
“What's the bad news?”
“Heh, not bad—happy news. Post-reform, we must avoid negative words!”
“So what's the hap-py news?”
“Headquarters' Audit Division's watching us—thinks your rise too fast. Be careful. They're terrifying. Especially the new hire...”
Rattle rattle—. Bones's skeletal frame shivered.
But to me, this “happy news” was actual good news. Audit watching me closely? Bring it!
“Over there, Section Chief Joey. As chief, you get a private office. New tasks filed on your desk.”
Whoa—. Piles to the ceiling in the glass-walled private office stabbed my eyes.
Hopeless. But private office? Bliss for ex-cubicle drone like me.
Anyway, I was section chief now. Half field, half management. Soon judged on leadership, not just skills.
Promoted, under audit scrutiny. How to leverage this for resignation?
Flash—! Idea struck.
I scribbled on broad paper and slapped it on the bulletin board.
No experience or disqualifications? Strongly preferred!
Nymphs welcome!