Chapter 21
This was the lowest, hottest place in all of Soul Society the Executive Boardroom.
Seated around a perfectly round table, the women began grumbling in unison.
“Huh? The concert venue changed?”
“Not Elysium anymore but Happy World? And what is this address supposed to be? This isn’t even a real venue.”
“Megaera, disappointed.”
They were goddesses whose very names inspired dread: the Furies of vengeance.
Each woman bore a title—Alecto the Executive Director, Tisiphone the Managing Director, and the deceptively cute Megaera.
“Hah? Look at this, girls. It says ‘Venue Coordinator – Joy.’”
“So this Joy guy is the one behind this complete disaster?”
“Megaera: enraged!”
The concert, originally scheduled in Elysium, had been highly anticipated—even by the executives themselves.
Now it was being relocated to some obscure slum corner of Happy World?
Worse—it was going to be a street performance.
“Inviting executives only to put on a circus in a dump?”
“We must punish whoever is responsible.”
“Hehehehe.”
All eyes turned toward the pamphlet.
More specifically, the name newly added to it: Joy.
Then, for the first time since the meeting began, a long-silent goddess finally spoke.
“This concert… will succeed. No matter what.”
It was Melinoe, goddess of nightmares and Vice President of Happy World.
Rising from her seat, she glanced around the boardroom, her voice as smooth and calm as velvet.
“If it’s Section Chief Joy, I believe in him. That man is determined to succeed.
So yes, this concert will be a success.”
“Hah? Are you telling me, Alecto, to go all the way to that grimy slum just because you believe in him?”
“Unlike our exiled princess here, we have real work to do. Like, I don’t know—dealing with the rebel insurgency?”
“Overtime….”
Even within Soul Society, public safety was a fragile thing.
Sending high-ranking execs to a lawless slum was risky.
If anything happened, the damage would be… irreversible.
Yet Melinoe remained unshaken.
“If this concert ends up being a waste of time, I’ll take full responsibility.
I swear it—on the River Styx.”
A vow on the River Styx—
It was the highest oath a god could take.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that responsibility supposed to be?
You willing to put your shares on the line?”
“Sure.”
“…You’re serious?”
“If, during the next board meeting, the majority agrees that the concert was a failure,
I’ll relinquish 2% of my 10% equity stake to the rest of you.”
“What—2%?! That’s a fifth of your holdings!”
The room shifted.
Even the stoic, silent execs perked up at the number.
“2% equity…”
“Just 1% gets you a seat at this table.”
“It’s not something one can acquire easily.”
Still, Alecto couldn’t help but smirk.
To her, Melinoe’s wager was like dousing herself in oil and leaping into fire.
“Looks like our dear princess really trusts this Joy fellow.
She’s never praised anyone before, yet now she’s all confident and glowing.”
“But fine. If the concert does succeed,
I’ll offer you 1% of the 5% equity stake that we Furies share.
Consider it the price for doubting you—and Joy.”
“What?”
Even for the ruthless Furies, that was a steep bet.
But Alecto was confident.
A street concert?
No chance it would succeed.
“Alright. But Melinoe, if you lose that 2%,
you’ll drift even further away from the CEO seat you’ve been eyeing.
Isn’t that sad? Losing your dream over a petty concert?”
“We’ll see.
You’ll all realize soon enough that the smallest things can become the most important.”
Happy World’s Concert.
At this point, it wasn’t just an event.
It was the future of Soul Society itself.
And as the hours passed, Chronos’s divine clock struck dusk.
***
This is bad—this is REALLY bad.
The execs are actually coming!
Many of Soul Society’s top executives had ominous black wings.
As they descended one by one into the slums,
the usually rowdy locals—who always walked around with their shoulders squared—
vanished like mice before a hawk.
“R-run away…”
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Is this… is this the end of Happy World?!”
Honestly, Arachne felt the same.
She would’ve fled, too, if she could.
When Joy first pitched the slum concert idea, it sounded reasonable.
But now that it was actually happening—
her vision swam and cold sweat poured down her back.
If this fails, I might get punished for deceiving the executives.
I’ll turn back into a spider for real!
And if that happens, Section Chief Joy, I will resent you FOR. EV. ER!
Arachne turned to her lead singer.
Euriole—
a mature, radiant blonde nymph with a calm yet cheerful aura.
She was in meditation, eyes closed.
Always did this before a performance.
Arachne had grown used to that.
But today, that quiet serenity felt ominous.
Like a storm pulling her into the abyss with no safety line.
“Hioooong…”
She trembled in fear.
That’s when someone entered the makeshift backstage room.
Section Chief Joy.
“Is everything on schedule?”
“Section Chief Joy! This is a disaster! The executives are here!
What if this goes south?! You’ll be the one held accountable! I-I can’t deal with this!”
“Calm down, Ms. Arachne.
You know better than anyone how talented your idol group E&S is, right?
Then trust them.”
Beep beep beep—
The sandglass alarm rang, signaling concert time.
Euriole, still serene, rose.
So did the sea nymph backup singers—the Sirens.
They stepped onto a modest wooden platform, built around the yellow-flowered cactus.
Narrow alleyway.
Executives with black wings and tear-red eyes crossed their arms,
their faces twisted in contempt.
So this is the dump you dared invite us to.
Impress us, then.
If the performers failed to move their hearts,
punishment would come swiftly—and without mercy.
The Sirens exchanged nervous glances.
One of them struck her drumsticks together.
Tap, tap—
The opening of their hit song, “I Forgot You,” began.
Doom doom doom—
A slow, deep bass vibrated the air.
Then, with both hands wrapped around the mic,
Euriole opened her mouth.
“───.”
And in that instant—
goosebumps swept across everyone’s skin.
Her voice sliced through space
like a blade gliding over silk.
Even the executives who had been standing with smug confidence, arms crossed,
found their wings shuddering involuntarily.
The song is good. The singer’s amazing. But…
Among the goddesses of vengeance, the one most feared for her strictness—Executive Director Alecto—furrowed her brow.
“…As I thought. This isn’t worth my time.”
It was a good song.
Just good.
Honestly, she even felt a tinge of pity.
“If only they’d performed this at Elysium’s dazzling stadium… The rushed sound setup here, the cramped stage, even the audience can’t keep up with the band’s level.”
The real issue was the venue.
E&S’s producer had overreached, chasing excessive innovation and transformation—
and ultimately wrecked the whole event.
It was almost philosophical.
“Excessive change. And failure. Just like this so-called ‘operational reform’… or ‘Happy World’ itself.”
And with that, the first song ended.
Alecto turned away, convinced there was nothing more to hear.
Some executives had already left their seats.
“Melinoe, I’ve won this bet after all. We’ll be collecting that 2% of your shares soon enough.”
But then—
“Tonight, we’d like to debut our new song.
Its title is Happy World.
We were inspired by the yellow blossoms blooming on this cactus. And so—”
Ding, ding, ding—
Euriole began plucking her lyre.
“───.”
At the end of the first verse, Alecto stopped in her tracks.
“...W-What!?”
Everyone halted what they were doing and turned toward the idol on stage.
For nearly a full minute after the music began,
they all stood frozen—
as though rooted to the ground.
The harmonized accompaniment,
the soaring vocals clashing and dancing above it—
each drop of sweat on her forehead fell like rain.
It was a song that resonated with the soul.
Executives who had left returned one by one.
And even the fearsome goddess Alecto shed a tear—
not of blood, but round and clear.
“…What? Why am I crying…?”
No one spoke.
Everyone just listened.
Even the prisoners hiding in darkness cracked their windows and peeked out.
Even Sisyphus stopped rolling his boulder.
Even Chronos paused his work in the fields.
Then—
“Hey. Why are you holding a weapon?”
In the crowd that had gathered to hear the song,
Melinoe spotted a man with a drawn blade.
The man jolted in panic.
“Y-You didn’t see anything, alright!? Don’t come any closer or I’ll stab you! This is a real sword!”
A man pointing a weapon at a goddess.
Melinoe’s crimson eyes exploded like fire on oil.
“You dare point a weapon at your goddess?
Do you want to spend a… PAIN. FULL. HOUR?”
SMACK—!
Like a comet, her fist struck his gut with brutal force.
Other executives quickly spotted more armed rebels hiding among the crowd.
“Tch. Looks like these little rebel rats were lured out by the music!”
“They DARE try to disrupt the concert!?”
“Arrest every last one of them!”
***
“A huge success! A massive success!
Euriole, Rilke, Carnoy—your new song Happy World!”
Arachne was ecstatic.
Good songs get good reviews.
But a masterpiece always has a story behind it.
“Even the hidden rebels came out to listen—and they were completely wiped out!
This is going to go viral! This isn’t just a hit in Happy World.
It’s going to set all of Soul Society ablaze!”
Even the rebels had forgotten their place, drawn out by the music.
Between the song release and the coinciding incident, they had more than enough headlines for weeks.
“Look! Black feathers! A gift from the goddesses of vengeance!
It means they’ll be watching over us and continuing to sponsor us!
This song—this song is the definition of a mega hit!”
Wiggle wiggle—
Arachne swayed her hips as she raised both arms in celebration.
“Hioooong…!”
At that moment, Arachne thought of Joy.
“That man… Did he predict all of this…!?”
He had the guts of a high-stakes gambler.
“Facing impossible odds and walking away with everything—
That’s the sign of someone destined for greatness.
He’s not stopping at Section Chief. I should stay on good terms with him!”
Her opinion of Joy skyrocketed that very second.
However, the woman who led the performance—Euriole—didn’t look pleased.
She stood by the blooming cactus, gazing up at the old multi-family apartment.
When everyone had opened their windows to listen,
when even the executives and prisoners had been mesmerized by her voice—
there had been just one apartment, up on the fourth floor,
where the lights were on…
but the windows remained closed.
It felt like that alone disapproved of her new song.
Euriole could feel it too.
“It was rushed. The soul wasn’t fully there.”
She clicked her tongue in frustration.
“If it had been him…”
If it had been that man she once knew—
even a hastily written song would have captured the world’s full attention.
To Euriole, that meant her new track was a failure.
“That’s… Krauser’s apartment, right?”
Arachne suddenly looped an arm through Euriole’s and tilted her chin.
Room 404.
Where the bizarre Happy Metal artist Krauser lived.
“Krauser?”
“Yeah, some weirdo lives there.
Krauser, he calls himself. Plays this strange genre called Happy Metal.
You don’t need to worry about him, Euriole.”
“…Krauser of Happy Metal.”
A flicker of stubbornness sparked in Euriole’s eyes.
From that day forward, she made up her mind:
she’d return to this alley again and again,
until that window opened,
and her voice reached even the most closed-off soul.
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