Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 118: "Audit of Heaven"
The Bureau of Heaven had never been this quiet.
Every hallway hummed with suppressed tension, every floating memo paused midair as if listening. A storm of data and decree signatures brewed in the upper archives — and at its center, two names had been flagged in red.
> UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED:
Ne Job (Intern, Conditional)
Assistant Yue (Probationary Clearance)
Ne Job sat at his desk, staring at the glowing message projected above his Bureau terminal. "Conditional intern," he muttered. "I love how they make it sound like I'm a defective toaster."
Yue, standing beside him with arms crossed, ignored the sarcasm. "They're compiling an audit committee," she said flatly. "Lord Bureaucrat Xian, three Division Heads, and the Shard Court Judge. This won't be a review — it'll be a trial."
"Then we'll give them a show." Ne Job leaned back, feet on the desk. "We've got the ledger, we've got evidence of soul recycling, and we've got front-row seats to their divine hypocrisy."
Yue raised an eyebrow. "You realize exposing this could dismantle the Bureau itself, right?"
"That's the point."
Before she could reply, the chamber doors burst open. Dreivery Spirit Bao stumbled in, his usual grin replaced by sheer panic. "You two are trending on the celestial feed! Hashtags, memes, divine outrage — the whole nine heavens!"
Ne Job blinked. "Hashtags?"
Bao nodded frantically. "#AuditTheGods, #InternFromHell, #YueDeservesARaise — it's chaos out there!"
Yue pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course it is. The spirits love scandal more than incense."
"Worse," Bao continued, "the Shard Court has issued a retrieval order for the Forgotten Ledger. You're supposed to hand it over immediately."
Ne Job stood, eyes cold. "If we give it to them, they'll erase it — and us — to protect their record."
Yue nodded grimly. "Then we don't hand it over. We present it publicly."
Bao's jaw dropped. "You're going to crash the audit tribunal? That's career suicide!"
Ne Job smirked. "Good thing I'm technically not alive."
---
✦ The Grand Tribunal ✦
The chamber was vast, carved from pure decree-light. At its center hovered the seven thrones of oversight, glowing with the weight of divine law.
Lord Bureaucrat Xian sat upon the central dais, robes immaculate, expression unreadable. Around him shimmered the other officials — the Division Heads of Soul Management, Divine Records, Temporal Licensing, and the ominous Shard Court Judge whose mask reflected nothing but void.
"Ne Job," Lord Xian began, his voice echoing like the turning of pages. "You stand accused of unauthorized access, systemic disruption, and violation of divine confidentiality. State your defense."
Ne Job stepped forward, Yue at his side, holding the glowing Forgotten Ledger like a weapon of truth.
"My defense?" He smiled faintly. "You built this mess."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the chamber. The Shard Judge's voice rang sharp and metallic. "Clarify."
Ne Job raised the ledger high. "This book contains every intern who ever existed — erased, rewritten, recycled. You call it divine order. I call it cosmic fraud."
Gasps. One of the Division Heads leaned forward. "Impossible. Records don't persist beyond reassignment."
"They do when someone locks the deletion loop," Yue interjected, her tone cutting through the noise. "This ledger is the lock. And someone inside your Bureau made sure it stayed hidden."
The air trembled. Lord Xian's fingers tightened on his armrest. "These are dangerous claims, Assistant Yue. You're risking erasure."
Yue met his gaze, unflinching. "Then erase me after you read the truth."
She opened the ledger. Pages flared open, projecting holographic memories into the chamber — scenes of interns before Ne Job, toiling endlessly, vanishing without record. Each bore his name, his seal, his mistakes repeated by design.
Every official froze. The evidence was undeniable.
Ne Job's voice carried over the silence. "You keep the system perfect by making people disposable. You erase the ones who see too much and call it divine correction."
The Shard Judge rose slowly. "You presume to audit Heaven itself?"
Ne Job grinned. "Someone had to."
A low rumble shook the chamber — the Bureau's light fracturing as the resonance network reacted to the breach in authority. Runes peeled off the walls, forming a storm of half-written decrees.
Lord Xian finally spoke, quietly but powerfully. "If what you say is true, the Bureau's foundations have been compromised. But truth cannot destroy order."
"Maybe it shouldn't," Yue said. "But it should rewrite it."
The Shard Judge extended a hand. "The ledger must be contained."
"Try," Ne Job replied — and slammed the book shut.
The shockwave erupted through the tribunal, shattering divine seals and collapsing false archives. For a moment, every record in Heaven flashed blank — a single line appearing across all divine databases:
> AUDIT IN PROGRESS.
Lord Xian stood amid the chaos, expression unreadable. "Then so be it," he said. "Let the Bureau stand trial before itself."
As the tribunal chamber plunged into cascading light, Ne Job and Yue stood together — two mortal-born interns against an immortal institution.
And somewhere deep within the system, the Forgotten Ledger whispered:
> "Reform begins with rebellion."