095 – Sculpting the Phantom Nymph!
Let's rewind to the previous evening for a moment.
The artisans at Pandora Market's South Gate had their heads together, wrestling with a thorny puzzle.
"Does anyone remember what was written on that censored contract?"
"No clue! Damn, this is weird. It's definitely the contract we drew up, but why can't I remember?"
"You empty-headed fool! The ink used for censorship is infused with the power of Lethe, the goddess of forgetfulness—that's why!"
It was an old product contract they'd signed long ago. If they couldn't uncover what item was specified there and complete it, the South Gate market's economy would stay frozen in place forever.
"From what I vaguely recall, it was something about the 'Phantom Nymph.'"
"I remember something about a 'vessel' or whatever."
"Phantom Nymph and a vessel... Does that mean we have to make pottery with a nymph painted on it?"
It was a reasonable guess, all things considered. But there was one massive problem.
"So, does anyone actually know what the Phantom Nymph looks like?"
At the question from Pygmalion, the South Gate's representative sculptor, everyone who'd been chattering fell silent.
No one knew what the Phantom Nymph looked like. Hell, no one even knew if it existed in the real world.
Sculpt the form of something that doesn't exist...
It was an utterly absurd commission. And thanks to the censorship, they couldn't even remember why they'd agreed to such a contract in the first place.
As the artisans racked their brains, an astonishing visitor appeared.
"Are you the small business owners of the market's South Gate?"
"Gah! P-Princess!"
"Instrument maker Trombone greets the princess of the underworld!"
"What brings such an exalted one to this humble place...?"
For these mostly introverted artisans who spent their days working alone, the arrival of a mega-celebrity was like a meteor crashing out of nowhere—a disaster and an honor all at once.
In that moment, Pygmalion thought:
'The Most Perfect and Beautiful Goddess? That's a new title I've never seen...'
But it was a title well-deserved. She was a goddess whose beauty wasn't like flowers or butterflies, but sharp and honed like a blade. It ignited the artisans' artistic passions.
If I sculpted her as a model, could I capture that chilling, spine-tingling allure?
Of course, sculpting a goddess without permission would be profound blasphemy. So he kept his head bowed.
That's when Goddess Melinoë spoke first.
"I've heard you're in a bind over this 'Phantom Nymph' issue. So I'm here with a special proposal: use me, Melinoë, as your model."
"Us modeling the princess?"
"No one's ever found this Phantom Nymph. Even a perfect goddess like me can't glimpse its true nature. If it really exists, it'd have to be as beautiful and perfect as me."
No one dared contradict her as she placed a slender finger on her chest.
In that instant, Pygmalion realized her proposal was brilliantly practical.
'The princess is a goddess... but also a nymph. Sure, she hates being called that, but... If we model the Phantom Nymph after her, no one could complain.'
Who would dare say of a Phantom Nymph sculpted from the underworld's princess Melinoë, "That's not a nymph, that's just Melinoë!"? Not even the executives, who tiptoed around the CEO's precious daughter.
# # #
And that was the end of Lady Melinoë's explanation.
"These South Gate artisans contracted to make a statue and sculpture of the undiscovered Phantom Nymph. But since it's based on a baseless rumor with no real form, their work ground to a halt."
The artisans' hands had stopped because they'd been asked to sculpt something that didn't exist in the world.
Lady Melinoë had personally stepped in as that 'nonexistent model' to get them working again.
"Of course, I'm no nymph. But if this Phantom Nymph exists, it'd be as beautiful and perfect as me. So I just modeled for them. The artisans bought it."
What the Happy World. What kind of hellish nonsense—
I had no idea what was going on, but one thing was clear: this was the worst possible development I hadn't seen coming.
Soon, the most famous sculptor in the Greek mythos, Pygmalion, shouted:
"It's complete! The Phantom Nymph statue! I can say with absolute certainty—this surpasses Galatea, my greatest masterpiece of all time! This will be our market's landmark!"
Pygmalion was the legendary sculptor who'd fallen in love with his own creation 'Galatea' and even married her thanks to Aphrodite. The 'Pygmalion effect'—where intense longing makes dreams come true—was named after him.
For him to call it a masterpiece? I rushed over in a panic, and there—
"Gah!"
I nearly tripped in shock.
The statue wasn't of Goddess Melinoë—it was the highly suspicious nymph Melinoi!
Petite stature. Pointed ears. Unmistakably Melinoi.
No way I wouldn't recognize her out of everyone!
Even carved from marble, the colors were so vivid it seemed alive, pulsing with energy. All the South Gate artisans gathered, marveling.
"What an bizarre nymph form. No wonder it's called the Phantom Nymph."
"Pygmalion! I never dreamed you'd surpass your wife Galatea's sculpture!"
"A masterpiece. One that will live forever in Soul Society history!"
But the model herself, Princess Melinoë, looked furious.
"What is this? That's not me. Am I supposed to be that puny with pointed ears? How dare you depict your goddess so irreverently? Do you want to spend some ter.ri.ble time?"
Lady Melinoë was indeed a nymph-hater. She despised them that much.
Faced with her wrath, master artisan Pygmalion trembled. That's when a brilliant idea flashed in my mind.
"Truly a magnificent, splendid work. With this level of perfection, you could claim you sculpted it from seeing the real Phantom Nymph, and no one would doubt it. What a fine nymph."
"Joey? This is a fine nymph?"
Her slender eyes narrowed slowly.
She clearly didn't like my opinion.
Heh heh heh. Just as planned.
Lady Melinoë hated nymphs. So if I praised one right in front of her...?
It might tank her affection for me big time.
That's why I hammed it up.
"I, Joey, am quite knowledgeable about art. And to me, this clearly depicts the Phantom Nymph. Beautiful and perfect in every way!"
"Calling a nymph beautiful and perfect? Joey, I had no idea you were such a nymph-obsessed fanatic."
She clicked her tongue in disbelief.
Soon, fidgeting with her fingers, Lady Melinoë said:
"This sculpture used me as a model, but it captured none of my beauty or perfection. Well, can't be helped. No artisan in the world could etch my beauty into stone..."
Her self-love was off the charts. But weirdly, it made sense.
"Keep it secret that I modeled. If word got out they couldn't fully capture my beauty, it'd tarnish their reputation."
And so the Phantom Nymph sculpture fiasco ended.
Or it should have...
"It looks so alive."
"Is this the Phantom Nymph?"
"One like this hiding somewhere in Soul Society!"
Crowds flocked to see the 'nymph statue' at the South Gate. The numbers swelled over time.
Many left gold coins, fruits, candies as offerings.
"Phantom Nymph! Please let my son pass his job exam!"
"Nymph! Cure this baldness that won't heal even in death!"
It had entered the realm of faith. The craftsmanship was just that incredible.
"Praying to a sculpture. Fools."
Lady Melinoë tsked at the procession.
But to me, the sight wasn't half bad.
Melinoi. I was the only one who knew about her.
Now that her existence was public... it felt a little less lonely, somehow?
"Looks like the South Gate artisans' skills haven't dulled."
"Yeah, they're even better than before."
Word of the artisans resuming work spread like wildfire. Crowds came begging for commissions.
"Mr. Trombone, how's that bass guitar I commissioned coming along?"
"Gasp! Siren Rilke!"
"E&S's bassist! A celebrity!"
Everyone cheered Rilke's visit.
But Odysseus, the development committee chairman watching from a distance, tsked with open suspicion.
"A siren, huh."
"Well, if it isn't Odysseus. Heard you got demoted, but really here? The star of Strategic Planning slumming it...?"
Sparks flew as Rilke and Odysseus glared.
Legend said Odysseus, on his 10-year voyage home, barely escaped sirens at sea.
Rilke seemed to hate him too—stories claimed a siren, heartbroken that he didn't fall for her song, drowned herself.
Was that true?
"Rilke, let's go."
Eurydol called from afar, with Carnoy following.
"This Carnoy thinks it's nymph-friendly sculpture or whatever...!"
The E&S members vanished.
Passing the baton, Crowzer popped up with a cheroot in his mouth.
"Whew, heard the employee this Crowzer scouted made a big splash. Finally helping my brother Joey!"
My forehead throbbed at his words.
I recalled the cyclops, the deaf-mute, the nymph quota nymphs, and the hell puppy racking up merits here.
Who could've predicted they'd pull off something this huge?
Tragic. Heartbreaking.
But on the flip side, I couldn't help a snort.
"Anyone who keeps challenging without giving up will succeed at least once. Even mockery turns to cheers sometimes."
Watching the rookies celebrate the South Gate revival didn't feel so bad.
Even if my firing felt further away.
"Haven't seen Helen smile that wide in ages. Joey, thanks for trusting our girl and giving her a shot."
Pygmalion approached with thanks.
I mumbled awkwardly—did I even do anything worthy?
Noticing my silence, he added softly:
"Carving that nymph statue jogged a memory. I've actually met the real Phantom Nymph. A faint, dreamlike recollection, but one thing's sure: that piece is unfinished."
A perfect carving of Melinoi to anyone else's eyes.
Unfinished?