Chapter 20


“So… you’re that Arachne?”


Arachne.


The woman who challenged Athena to a weaving contest and actually won.


But, of course, that victory came at the cost of her mocking the gods—


Which led to her being cursed, transformed into a spider, doomed to weave forever.


…Yet the woman before me didn’t look like a spider at all.


She had shimmering silver hair like silk threads, wore a sharply tailored suit with sleek stockings.


Efficient. Professional.


Honestly… a little disappointing.


“Ms. Arachne, why don’t you look like a spider?”


“That’s not important right now! Did you even hear what I’ve been saying for the last hour?! I explained how serious this concert is—!”


“Right. The idol group you produced, E&S, has a big show at Elysium’s main stadium… and your main vocalist is being difficult.”


“…Yes?”


Arachne blinked, surprised by the blunt summary.


She twisted a strand of her silvery hair with tight fingers.


“That’s… actually pretty accurate. Anyway—he says he needs a flower for inspiration. Something rare, delicate… with thorns.


I showed him roses, briars, even acacia—but he hates them all.


The only thing left is the Hell Cactus.”


“And?”


“And?! Section Chief Joy, if you cooperate, you’ll earn favor with the executives!


You’re a company man—you know how valuable that is, right?”


She gave me a narrow-eyed smile.


Like a spider plucking the strings of her web.


Arachne… definitely a capable woman.


And that was the problem.


Working with competent women is dangerous.


I might actually end up doing my job well.


Failing becomes less likely.


And what I needed now was the possibility of failure.


“Ms. Arachne, I have nothing to say to you. Please leave.”


“Wait! Do you realize how many people will lose their jobs if this fails?!


If the executives get angry… the blame could fall on you!”


That… actually sounded pretty good.


If I could get blamed for a concert disaster…


Wouldn’t that make a perfect excuse for getting fired?


Do you hear that?


That’s the sweet sound of termination and freedom calling.


So yes—every word out of Arachne’s mouth only strengthened my resolve to reject her.


“You know how I got here, Section Chief?


I clung to every thread of opportunity—finer than a spider’s silk.


I can’t stop now!”


She stood abruptly and peeled off her suit jacket.


Underneath was a sheer silk blouse that almost showed her underwear.


And then—she started unbuttoning it?!


“What are you doing?!”


“Please, sell me the cacti!


I’ll strip if I have to!


I may not be good at this, but men like this kind of stuff, don’t they?!


Erotic and indecent things?!”


“EXCUSE ME?!”


What the hell is this lady thinking?!


Does she think all men are drooling beasts the moment they see cleavage?


…I mean, Greek myth men are usually like that.


And sure—I do like beautiful women, but—


Getting caught in a scandal would be the worst thing that could happen right now.


Because Lady Melinoe is probably still monitoring me.


You confessed your love to me and then hit on another woman?


Do you want to be reduced to a crawling roach and locked in a bug-infested dungeon?


“JOOOOOJIIIIIIIK!!”


Just the thought gave me full-body chills.


I don’t think Arachne knows my situation,


But her instincts were sharp.


Too sharp.


What is this—spider-sense?


“Fine. I’ll cooperate.


But please keep your clothes on.


I already have someone I like, and I’d rather not spark any misunderstandings!”


“You’ll help?! Yay!!”


Arachne bounced side to side, lifting her arms like a kid celebrating.


She even wiggled her hips.


“Hiiioooonnng~!”


“…Hioong?”


I frowned.


She blushed, then coughed awkwardly.


“I was a spider for a long time.


Some habits die hard. Ahem, ahem.”


…I mean, whatever.


Spiders don’t even make that noise, but okay.


Anyway, I’d now agreed to help with the concert.


All I had to do was sell her a few cacti.


Simple, right?


But it was a bit painful.


If I lose even one cactus, my anti-roach barrier weakens.


If another Manager-class roach shows up, I might pass out cold with my eyes open.


In a way, selling a cactus was like…


Selling off my defense grid.


I needed a better solution.


Then it hit me.


“You said you needed a rare flower, right?


I do know of a yellow-blooming Hell Cactus.”


A cactus I recently gifted to Orpheus.


What if I sold that one to her instead?


Orpheus could use the money—probably enough to cover a few months of rent.


I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my own defense cactus.


Arachne would get her rare flower.


Win-win-win.


***


“Ugh. What a smell.”


Arachne pinched her nose and grimaced.


Clearly, she wasn’t used to the stench of multi-unit slums.


“This is nothing like my new apartment in Elysium.


Are you sure the flower I need is in this place?”


“Well, yeah. This area’s famous in Happy World for its cheap rent.


It was basically built as an exile zone.”


KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.


“Mr. Orpheus, are you home?”


Arachne’s eyes widened in shock.


“Wait… Orpheus?!


You mean the Orpheus?! The legend?!


I didn’t mentally prepare to meet someone like that—!”


CLACK… CREEEAK…


The door opened slowly.


A man emerged—bearded, disheveled, looking utterly drained.


Arachne’s face fell.


“What… he’s a fake.”


“Fake?! What do you mean fake?! I’m the real deal!”


“Well, of course the legendary singer Orpheus wouldn’t be living in a dump like this.


Ever since I started working in the entertainment industry, I’ve seen so many fake Orpheuses like you!”


Arachne fanned herself dramatically as if she’d just wasted precious energy on disappointment.


Are there really that many fake Orpheuses in Soul Society?


But the thing is… this guy is actually the real one.


Just as I was about to clear things up, Orpheus beat me to it.


“T-that’s right. I’m just a guy who dreams of becoming Orpheus.


My name… uh… Krauser. Johann Wolfgang Something Krauser.


I aim to be the emperor of Happy Metal! YEAH, ROCK SPIRIT!!”


“Happy Metal? That rootless, commercially worthless genre? Tsk.”


Arachne clicked her tongue with disgust.


While I was still trying to process this absurd act, Orpheus leaned in and whispered:


“She might have ties to Eurydice, for all I know…


I don’t want her to find out how I’ve ended up.


Please—keep it a secret.”


Sigh… What a pain.


Then again, I once tried to use Orpheus for one of my own schemes.


That probably led him to hole up here in the first place.


I owed him.


So, I’ve been buying him cacti, dropping by his place now and then—trying to help in small ways.


Playing along with a silly lie was easy.


“Anyway, Ms. Arachne, the flower you’re looking for belongs to Mr. Krauser here.”


“Actually… I don’t have it anymore.”


Wait, what?


Even I didn’t see that coming.


And Arachne lost it.


“Wait, what?! You all told me something completely different!”


“I… buried it in the front yard.


Felt weird keeping something like that inside a house full of torture tools.”


You buried my cactus?


I gave that to you out of kindness!


But somehow, Arachne just nodded in agreement.


“Yeah, fair enough.


Honestly, Joy’s house was a nightmare.


No offense—just needed to say it to feel better.”


“………”


And so we made our way to the “front yard.”


Which, in slum terms, was just a junk-covered patch of dirt.


And there it was:


A cactus.


Its spiny branches stretched in all directions like jagged lightning.


If anyone called it a torture tool, they wouldn’t be wrong.


Even I think it looks kinda cursed… how did it grow like that?


But despite the terrifying thorns—


The bright yellow flowers bloomed beautifully.


Even emitted a gentle fragrance.


Enough to mask the overwhelming stink of trash surrounding us.


Arachne beamed.


“…That’s it!”


Swipe—


She reached toward the flowers.


“OW!”


Only to get impaled by a thorn.


Blood dripped down her finger.


She tried again with her other hand—


Same result.


Now bleeding from both hands, she snapped.


“This is when I really miss having eight legs!”


That’s the issue?


Even with more limbs, those thorns would still win.


I even brought thick gloves, but the needles pierced right through them.


“Gah! I got stabbed too!”


At this point, we needed a professional.


Cactus Expert Kshalri inspected the plant carefully, arms crossed.


“I told you—cacti get warmer the more love you give them.


But if they’re neglected for too long, they grow hostile.


This one’s become savage.


There’s nothing you can do now.”


“No… way…”


Arachne slumped down, defeated.


But I had a brilliant idea.


“What if… we just move the concert here?


Bring your high-maintenance vocalist here,


Let him sing in front of the flowers instead of moving them. Genius, right?”


“Wait, wait, wait! Are you suggesting we ditch the main stadium to hold a performance in this sketchy, unsafe place?!


And invite executives to stand around in this filth?!”


“It’s better than getting torn apart because your singer refuses to perform.


If you can at least make the concert happen, you might avoid punishment.”


“But still…”


“It’s fine. Worst-case scenario? Just blame me.


Say Joy was the one who insisted.


You’ll be fine.”


VIP executives watching a concert on a dirt lot in the slums.


No way that ends well.


Unless your singer is actually Orpheus…


But he isn’t.


He’s just Krauser, king of Happy Metal.


So this whole thing is bound to fail—


And once they start pointing fingers, my name will rise to the top.


Beautiful.


This was one of my finest moments.


Crisis management on another level.


A true maestro of manipulation.


***


“I was against it! I swear I was!


But Section Chief Joy from Happy World insisted this was the perfect spot!”


Arachne nervously explained the situation to Euriole, the diva-esque main vocalist.


Euriole gazed at the terrifying cactus—the “torture tool”—and the delicate yellow flowers blooming from it.


His eyes lit up.


“It’s coming… the inspiration.”


“Wait, what? I thought you didn’t like it? You were gonna cancel! What do you mean it’s coming?!”


“This place… it resonates with the soul of art.


I don’t want a stadium anymore.


I want to perform here.


Arachne, you really outdid yourself!”


“O-oh? Well… I did try pretty hard…”


“Torture tools and flowers…


The irony, the contradiction—


It’s perfect.


Let’s write a new song.


I want to debut a new track at this concert!”


A sparkling gleam lit up Euriole’s eyes.


At that moment, Arachne—the talented producer—knew.


This concert…


Would go down in Soul Society history


as the most legendary disaster or the most shocking sensation it had ever seen.

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