1. The Button Everyone Pretended Didn't Exist
The rollback queue appears at 09:00 divine standard time.
No announcement.
No ceremony.
Just a new tab.
ROLLBACK REQUESTS (EXPERIMENTAL)
Ne Job stares at it for a full ten seconds.
Yue, already reading the tooltip, says quietly, "They labeled it experimental so no one can accuse them of promise."
Ne Job clicks it anyway.
The number loads.
Pending: 11,842
He closes his eyes. "…That's just today, isn't it."
Yue nods. "And just the first hour."
2. What a Rollback Actually Means
Heaven has apologized before.
It has compensated.
It has amended records.
It has acknowledged harm.
But rollback?
Rollback means changing outcomes.
Undoing consequences.
Rewriting timelines.
Admitting not just error—but authority failure.
Oversight materializes beside the screen.
"Clarification," it says.
"Rollback does not imply universal restoration."
Ne Job doesn't look away. "It implies possibility."
"…Yes."
That single word costs Heaven more than wars ever did.
3. The First Request Is Unremarkable
The first case is simple.
A merchant killed early due to misclassified risk probability.
Dependents documented.
Causal chain traceable.
Yue scans the file. "This would've been auto-approved as 'acceptable variance' before."
"And now?" Ne Job asks.
Oversight projects simulations.
"Rollback viable with minimal timeline distortion."
Ne Job presses approve.
Nothing explodes.
Reality ripples—soft, like a breath held and released.
The merchant wakes up three years earlier, confused but alive.
The counter ticks.
Approved: 1
The room doesn't cheer.
They just… sit with it.
4. Then the Hard Ones Arrive
Second case.
A soldier whose death prevented a war.
Rollback would save him—
—but destabilize an entire region.
Yue swallows. "This is why they buried this tab."
The request is heartfelt.
"I don't need justice.
I just want to see my daughter grow up."
Ne Job feels it hit somewhere under the ribs.
Oversight calculates.
"Rollback probability:
67% regional conflict escalation."
Silence.
Ne Job asks the question no one ever asked before. "…What if we involve the daughter?"
Yue looks at him. "You mean—"
"Let her decide what peace costs."
Oversight pauses longer than usual.
"Ethical authority delegation detected," it says.
"…Is that allowed?"
"No precedent," Oversight admits.
"…Proceeding requires override."
Ne Job exhales. "Then log it."
5. Mortals Are Brought In — Carefully
The daughter is older now.
Smart.
Tired.
Not awed by Heaven.
She listens.
She asks questions.
Hard ones.
If he comes back, people might die?
Yes.
If he stays dead, people already died?
Also yes.
She closes her eyes.
"When you say 'war,'" she asks softly,
"do you mean numbers or names?"
Ne Job answers honestly. "Names."
She nods. "Then no."
The request is denied.
But not dismissed.
A new note is added:
Decision made by affected party.
The soldier's soul accepts it.
Not happily.
But fully.
6. Heaven Realizes Consent Is Heavy
Word spreads.
Rollback requests don't just involve judges anymore.
They involve families.
Communities.
Victims.
Decision speed slows to a crawl.
Approval rates drop.
But appeals drop too.
Yue rubs her eyes. "This is… exhausting."
Ne Job leans back. "Yeah. Accountability usually is."
7. A God Tries to Bypass the Process
It happens on day three.
A senior god secretly authorizes a rollback for a favored follower.
The system flags it instantly.
Oversight freezes the action mid-execution.
Reality stutters.
"Unauthorized rollback detected," Oversight announces publicly.
The chamber fills.
The god protests. "I was correcting an injustice!"
Ne Job doesn't shout.
He just asks, "Did you ask the people affected?"
"…No."
"Did you log the impact?"
"…No."
"Then you didn't correct anything," Ne Job says calmly.
"You just cheated."
The rollback is reversed.
The god is suspended.
For the first time in Heaven's history—
a god faces consequences after acting.
8. Fear Enters the Upper Ranks
Not fear of mortals.
Fear of process.
A whisper spreads: "If we can't act unilaterally, what are we?"
Yue hears it and mutters, "Responsible?"
No one laughs.
9. Oversight Issues a System Alert
"Rollback capacity nearing threshold," Oversight warns.
"Excessive intervention risks causal instability."
Ne Job nods. "So we limit it."
"By what criteria?"
Ne Job thinks.
Not metrics.
Not efficiency.
He types:
ROLLBACK ELIGIBILITY PRINCIPLE:
Only outcomes that silence future choice qualify.
Deaths before consent.
Punishments without understanding.
Irreversible losses without awareness.
Yue reads it slowly. "…You're defining justice as protecting agency."
Ne Job smiles tiredly. "Took us long enough."
10. The Queue Shrinks — But the Weight Grows
Numbers fall.
Requests become sharper.
More painful.
Less abstract.
Ne Job stops sleeping.
Yue catches him staring at a denied request.
"You okay?"
He shakes his head. "No."
She nods. "Good. That means you still care."
11. A Child Breaks the Algorithm
The final request of the day is from a child.
No rhetoric.
No blame.
Just a sentence:
"If Heaven is fair now, can my mom come back?"
Oversight cannot simulate it.
Too many variables.
Too much ripple.
Ne Job kneels in front of the projection.
"I don't know," he admits.
The system waits.
The child adds:
"If not, can you at least tell me why she had to go?"
Ne Job exhales slowly.
"That," he says,
"we can do."
He writes the explanation himself.
Plain.
Honest.
No euphemisms.
Oversight records a note:
"Transparency reduced distress by 62%."
Ne Job whispers, "Still not enough."
12. End of Chapter (Some Things Can't Be Fixed — Only Faced)
The rollback tab remains.
Smaller.
Heavier.
No longer a miracle machine.
A responsibility engine.
Heaven doesn't feel powerful anymore.
It feels… accountable.
And that terrifies everyone who liked certainty.
END OF CHAPTER 314