Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 117: "The Forgotten Ledger"
The Bureau lights dimmed to an uneasy amber. The storm of paperwork had calmed, but the air still smelled faintly of burned ink and ozone.
Ne Job leaned back in his chair, staring at the sealed parchment that had nearly consumed him. The seal still shimmered faintly — a remnant of the Evil Manual Spirit's containment.
Yue paced behind him, arms crossed, eyes sharp but tired. "You're sure the containment seal will hold?"
He shrugged. "About as sure as I am that the cafeteria noodles are actually noodles."
"Meaning not at all."
"Exactly."
Yue exhaled through her nose. "Then we can't stop here. If the Manual Spirit attached itself to your signature, that means it had access to your entire filing lineage. We need to trace its source."
Ne Job glanced up, curious. "You're saying the spirit wasn't born from error—it was assigned?"
"Or worse," Yue said grimly, "it's a leftover file from before your appointment. Something that predates your internship."
That word hung between them like a ghost. Before.
Ne Job's memory flickered — faint images of his arrival at the Bureau, of Lord Xian's approving smile, and a voice whispering: "You're not supposed to be here yet."
He rubbed his temples. "Okay. Suppose this thing comes from before my start date. That means someone rewrote the records to insert me into the system early."
Yue nodded. "Which would mean your existence as an intern wasn't approved through standard divine procedure."
Ne Job froze. "…Wait, are you saying I'm an illegal intern?"
Yue gave a dry smirk. "Technically speaking… yes. A bureaucratic anomaly."
He slumped forward onto his desk. "Great. I'm a cosmic clerical error."
Before Yue could respond, the lights flickered again — and every ledger in the chamber opened on its own. Pages flipped violently, their titles rearranging into new words:
> "FORGOTTEN ENTRY: FILE 000 — RESONANCE RECORD."
The very air warped. The file cabinet at the back wall groaned and twisted, revealing an embedded vault door inscribed with ancient celestial runes.
Yue's eyes widened. "That's not on any Bureau map."
Ne Job stood, staring. "Then I guess we're not supposed to find it."
"Which means we have to."
Together, they approached the vault. The runes responded to their divine signatures, glowing with layered seals — one bureaucratic, one personal. Yue examined them closely.
"The outer lock uses Lord Xian's authority pattern," she said. "But the inner one… matches yours."
Ne Job blinked. "Mine?"
"Your handwriting. Your divine frequency. Which means you already opened this once."
He stared at the door — a chill creeping up his spine. "I don't remember doing that."
"Maybe the ledger does."
Yue pressed her palm to the sigils. "Authorization: Assistant Yue, clearance beta-6."
The first seal disengaged with a sigh of light. Then she nodded to Ne Job.
"Your turn."
He hesitated. "If something tries to eat me again, I'm haunting the HR department."
"Noted. Proceed."
He pressed his hand against the glowing lock — and the entire chamber shifted. The vault opened with a deep, resonant click. Inside was a single floating book, bound in what looked like translucent parchment made from divine essence. Its title burned in fading script:
> "The Forgotten Ledger."
As soon as Ne Job touched it, a wave of memories hit him — not his own, but dozens of overlapping ones. Interns before him. Centuries of them. All assigned, erased, reassigned.
Each one carried the same codename: Ne Job.
His knees buckled. Yue caught him before he fell. "What did you see?"
He gasped. "It's… me. But not me. Over and over. They've been recycling interns. Wiping memories. Resetting divine signatures. Every time one fails, they just… reboot the role."
Yue's face hardened. "Then you weren't chosen. You were replicated."
The ledger pulsed, reacting to her words. Lines of text scrawled themselves across the open page:
> "THE CURRENT INTERN HAS BREACHED RECORD LIMIT."
"RESTORATION PROTOCOL: ACTIVE."
"COMMENCING DATA RECLAMATION."
The pages lifted into the air, swirling like a storm. The runes on the vault began collapsing inward.
Yue shouted, "It's pulling your signature back into the system!"
Ne Job gritted his teeth, digging his heels in as divine currents whipped around him. "No! Not this time!"
He grabbed the ledger with both hands, his seal glowing crimson. "You want my data? Fine—then file this!"
He slammed his hand down on the cover, rewriting the closing command. The book screamed — light exploding through the chamber — and then went still.
When the glow faded, the vault had sealed itself again. The ledger floated back into place, quiet.
Yue stood over him, trembling slightly but composed. "…You stopped it."
Ne Job panted, voice hoarse. "Or delayed it. Whatever that thing is, it knows me — all of me. Every failed version, every erased attempt."
Yue looked at him for a long moment, then said softly, "Then maybe it's time we stop being the Bureau's records… and start being its editors."
A slow grin crossed his face. "You mean a bureaucratic rebellion?"
"An audit of the gods."
The lights hummed overhead. Somewhere deep within the Bureau, an unseen file adjusted itself — as if watching.
And on a page no one was meant to see, two new lines wrote themselves in gold ink:
> "NEW ENTRY — SUBJECTS: NE JOB & ASSISTANT YUE."
"STATUS: UNAUTHORIZED, UNSTOPPABLE."