Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 121: "Heaven's Patch Notes"
The Bureau rebooted at dawn.
Not the usual kind of dawn — no sunrise, no mortal time. This was the dawn of paperwork reborn. The golden pages that had fallen from the sky were no longer drifting; they floated in orbit around the Bureau, forming concentric halos of glowing script. Every page contained a correction, an apology, or an amendment.
And in the middle of it all stood Ne Job and Assistant Yue, staring at what used to be the Main Registry Core.
It now looked more like a breathing organism than a filing machine. Glyphs pulsed like veins. New regulations, rewritten by the audit, propagated across the heavens in real time.
> "Patch notes are deploying across every divine department," Yue murmured, flipping through her tablet. "Look at this — Clause 404 restored, the Reincarnation Ledger re-indexed, and… wait…"
She frowned. "Clause 9999 just appeared out of nowhere."
Ne Job rubbed the back of his neck. "That wasn't me."
> "Then who—"
Before she could finish, the Registry pulsed again. The golden light twisted into a holographic scroll, projecting text into the air:
---
HEAVEN SYSTEM UPDATE 3.0.1 — "ETHICAL AUDIT RELEASE"
> Implemented by: Unknown (Administrative Override)
Authorized by: Auditor of Eternity
Changes:
Rewrote all backlog categories into "Awaiting Redemption."
Terminated the "Lost Soul Loop."
Archived redundant divine hierarchies.
Downgraded "Supreme Management Authority" to "Shared Governance System."
Added new user role: Assistant Protocol Overseer (Yue).
Warning: Structural instability detected. Re-indexing metaphysics.
Estimated completion: ∞
---
Yue blinked. "Assistant Protocol Overseer? Me?"
Ne Job grinned faintly. "Guess Heaven liked your report writing."
> "This isn't funny, Ne Job. The system just granted us root access."
He shrugged. "We asked for accountability."
At that moment, a deep rumble rolled through the Bureau — not thunder, not destruction, but migration. The walls themselves began to move, transforming as new departments formed spontaneously from collapsing data. A corridor labeled "Reintegration Division" appeared. Another, "Mortal Affairs Renewal Office."
Then came a voice — mechanical, genderless, resonant:
> "Attention: Administrative anomaly detected. Unauthorized Audit Trigger has altered divine hierarchy. Initializing rollback procedure."
Yue's expression tightened. "Oh no. The system's trying to undo your changes."
> "Not if we stabilize it first," Ne Job said, already running toward the new divisions.
The corridors restructured with every step. Filing cabinets reshaped into glowing conduits; heavenly staff blinked into existence, their memories syncing mid-sentence.
A cherub clerk appeared in front of them, clutching a floating terminal. "Auditor Ne Job, sir! The rollback daemon is activating! If it completes, we'll lose all ethical modifications!"
Ne Job stopped, breathing heavily. "Where's the source?"
> "Sector Zero — beneath the Root Archive."
> "Of course it is," Yue muttered. "Always the basement."
They raced downward, past collapsing lifts and malfunctioning portals. The scent of burning ink filled the air. At the lowest chamber, a black monolith loomed — the Rollback Daemon Core, its surface covered in erasure sigils.
It pulsed with raw authority. The voice returned, louder now:
> "Error detected in Audit Process. Restoring Heaven to Default Settings."
Yue raised her tablet, typing furiously. "If we can inject a counter-command before it reaches 100%, we can—"
> "Too slow," Ne Job interrupted, eyes narrowing. "I'll talk to it."
> "You're going to negotiate with an automated divine rollback?"
> "It's still part of the system. And I'm the Auditor now."
He stepped toward the monolith, the golden seal on his wrist glowing brighter.
> "Heaven doesn't need to be perfect. It needs to be responsible."
The daemon froze. The entire Bureau flickered. Lines of code — divine law itself — cascaded down like rain, rewriting in real time.
> "Audit statement detected," the voice said slowly. "Processing moral logic… conflict found."
Ne Job pressed a hand to the monolith. "Then fix the conflict. Don't delete it."
A long pause.
Then — silence.
The monolith dimmed. The rollback halted at 99.7%.
> "System status: Compromise accepted. Partial autonomy granted. New hierarchy pending final approval."
The Bureau stabilized. The air felt lighter — like the weight of eternity had exhaled.
Yue lowered her clipboard, smiling faintly. "You actually negotiated ethics with a rollback daemon."
Ne Job sighed, half laughing. "Guess I'm getting good at arguing with paperwork."
They stood there for a while, watching as the Bureau reorganized itself — not perfectly, but alive. Departments began to hum again. Lost souls reappeared in the archives, their names no longer marked "forgotten."
And above it all, the system displayed one final line across the sky:
> HEAVEN PATCH 3.0.1 — DEPLOYED SUCCESSFULLY. AUDITOR ROLE ACTIVE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
Ne Job looked at Yue. "So… what now?"
She smiled softly. "Now? We start cleaning up your audit trail."
He groaned. "Oh, great. The real paperwork begins."