Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 108: "Memory Ledger"
The sound came first.
A soft, rhythmic tch-tch-tch, like pens scribbling endlessly on paper that would never run out. The air shimmered with gold script that formed and dissolved in the same instant — a storm of bureaucracy turned sentient.
Ne Job stood at the center of it, arms folded, staring at a floating desk that didn't technically exist. On it sat a thick tome glowing faintly blue — the Memory Ledger.
Yue stood beside him, perfectly composed as always, though her right hand trembled slightly as she adjusted her spectacles. The tremor wasn't fear — it was pressure. The kind that came from holding together a thousand erased lives by sheer willpower.
"This is the master record," she said quietly. "Every soul we've restored — and every one still missing."
Ne Job whistled low. "That's a long to-do list."
The Archivist Prime's voice drifted through the chamber, calm and echoing:
> "Each entry represents a soul removed by the Bureau's Overwrite Protocol. Your task is not merely to recall them… but to decide if they deserve to return."
Ne Job looked up, incredulous. "Wait — we're judging them now?"
"Not judgment," the Archivist replied. "Discernment. Chaos grants freedom. Order grants purpose. You stand between the two. Choose carefully."
Yue turned to Ne Job. "If we make the wrong call, we could rewrite entire timelines. Or worse — bring back something that was meant to stay gone."
He smirked faintly. "Yeah, but 'meant to stay gone' is kind of my brand."
The ledger pulsed once, reacting to his words. The pages flipped rapidly until one stopped, marked with crimson ink.
> "File: R-09A. Entity Classification: Former Bureau Official."
"Status: Expunged for Reality Breach."
"Associated Memory: The Audit of Flames."
Yue frowned. "Reality breach… that's top-tier."
Ne Job placed a hand on the glowing page. "Guess we're starting with the fun ones."
The room vanished.
---
They stood in a burning city — not mortal, not divine. The architecture was Bureau-grade, but the walls wept molten data. Each tower crumbled into equations. The sky above twisted between heaven's light and hell's darkness.
At the center stood a figure — cloaked in black paper, his face hidden behind the Bureau's old insignia.
> "Welcome, Intern," the man said, voice sharp as ink. "Or should I say… successor?"
Ne Job blinked. "Do I know you?"
"You were me," the figure said. "Before the Spark rewrote your file."
Yue's breath caught. "That's impossible."
The man extended a hand. "I was the Auditor of Flames — tasked to purge anomalies. You inherited my fragment when they remade you."
The fire hissed louder, echoing like laughter.
Ne Job stepped forward, meeting the figure's gaze. "So you're the guy who tried to burn the world clean."
"Correction," the Auditor said, his form flickering with unstable code. "I tried to burn the Bureau clean. But the system doesn't allow correction — only containment."
He held up a burning scroll, words carved into it: 'Order Above All.'
"Tell me, Intern," the Auditor hissed, "how much of you is still Bureau property?"
The question hit like a pulse. The Chaos Spark inside Ne Job's chest flared, distorting the world. Fragments of memory — desks, reprimands, erased evaluations — spun through the firestorm.
Yue shouted over the noise. "Ne Job! Don't listen — he's part of the overwrite protocol! He's trying to anchor through your Spark!"
Ne Job gritted his teeth. "Yeah? Then let's give him something real to anchor to."
He slammed his hand to the ground. The Chaos Spark exploded outward, merging with the flames. The fire shifted from Bureau gold to wild crimson, devouring the false symbols around them.
The Auditor screamed as his form broke apart, his voice scattering into fragments:
> "You… can't… rewrite… purpose—"
Ne Job's eyes glowed with molten red. "Watch me."
With one final pulse, the fire inverted — turning the burning city into a field of glowing embers.
Yue approached him slowly, the heat dissolving around them. "You didn't just destroy that memory," she said softly. "You rewrote it."
Ne Job wiped ash from his arm. "Guess we just filed the first correction."
The world faded back into the Archives. The page in the ledger turned pure white — blank, but alive.
The Archivist Prime's voice returned:
> "A soul restored. But the method… unstable. Be careful, Intern. Chaos remembers what Order forgets."
Yue looked down at the next glowing page. The Ledger trembled, as if aware of their decision.
"Ready for the next?" she asked quietly.
Ne Job grinned. "Always."
The pages flipped again — and the air darkened, thick with unfiled whispers.
This time, the file was marked not in red, but in black.
> "File: Y-01. Entity: Assistant Yue Hanzhen."
"Status: Containment Pending. Emotional Contamination Risk: Severe."
Yue froze. "That can't be—"
Ne Job's voice was quiet, but unshaken. "Guess the Ledger wants to audit you next."
The chamber pulsed with light, as if reality itself were waiting for their decision.