Chapter 3 — The Memo Mission
Ne Job woke up slumped over a desk, cheek stuck to a half-dried ink blot. He peeled himself off with a groggy yawn, blinking at the dim lanterns flickering along the Bureaucracy's endless corridors.
"Orientation day two," Assistant Yue announced flatly, setting down a steaming teapot beside him. "Congratulations. You survived the first."
Ne Job rubbed his temples. "Barely. Do you know how many forms that fat guy—what's his name again—threw at me yesterday?"
"Lord Bureaucrat Xian," Yue corrected, her tone crisp. "And he didn't throw them. He assigned them."
"Same thing when they're on fire," Ne Job muttered. He held up his sleeve, which still bore the singed edge of one poorly timed summoning document.
Yue sighed, poured tea, and shoved a stack of neatly stamped documents into her satchel. "Today, you're getting your first real assignment."
Ne Job perked up. "Finally! Something exciting!"
"Exciting isn't the word I'd use," Yue replied, adjusting her hairpin. "You're delivering a memo."
"…A memo?"
"Yes."
"That's it? All this divine bureaucracy and I'm just a courier pigeon?"
"Don't flatter yourself. Pigeons have better accuracy."
---
The briefing chamber was colder than usual, lined with shelves of untouched scrolls that probably hadn't been read since dynasties fell. Lord Bureaucrat Xian sat on a raised dais, robes rustling as he shuffled through stacks of jade seals. His expression was a storm cloud waiting to rain down disapproval.
"Intern," Xian barked.
Ne Job straightened, attempting something resembling military posture. "Reporting for duty, sir!"
"Your 'duty,'" Xian said with audible quotation marks, "is to carry this." He produced a rolled-up scroll tied with red silk. "You will deliver it to the Office of Celestial Weather Calibration before sundown. Assistant Yue will oversee this task."
Ne Job blinked at the scroll like it was a sacred relic. "That's it?"
"That is it," Xian said. "Do not lose it. Do not misfile it. Do not—"
But Ne Job wasn't listening anymore. He was already imagining heroic trumpet fanfares as he accepted the scroll with both hands. A simple delivery? This was going to be easy.
"Leave before I change my mind," Xian growled.
---
The Bureaucracy's corridors were a labyrinth designed by someone who hated both efficiency and sanity. Signposts contradicted each other, stairs led to the same floor they started from, and every office looked equally unhelpful.
Ne Job strode confidently in the wrong direction.
"Stop," Yue said, grabbing his sleeve before he barged into a broom closet labeled Department of Seasonal Shed Leaves.
"I knew that," Ne Job lied. "Just checking for shortcuts."
Yue pinched the bridge of her nose. "Stay close. If you get lost, I'm not wasting a manhunt request form on you."
They passed the Office of Divine Tea Temperatures (currently debating whether oolong should steep at exactly eighty-four or eighty-five degrees) and the Bureau of Auspicious Calendar Adjustments (where three clerks were arguing about leap months). Ne Job was fascinated.
"This place is incredible," he whispered. "Every door hides a new pointless miracle."
"That's the Bureaucracy," Yue said dryly. "Making the cosmos grind smoothly with maximum inefficiency."
---
Halfway down the Hall of Misplaced Keys, Ne Job grew restless. He tugged the scroll from his belt and turned it over in his hands.
"Don't," Yue warned instantly.
"I just wanna peek," Ne Job said innocently. "What if it's, like, a secret prophecy or a forbidden spell?"
"It's a memo. For weather calibration. You'll find nothing but numbers and footnotes."
But Ne Job was already loosening the red silk. The scroll unfurled halfway before Yue snatched it from him like a hawk.
"Are you insane?" she hissed. "Breaking the seal on an official document is a disciplinary offense."
"Disciplinary offense? Come on. It's not like—"
The scroll glowed faintly. The corridor lights flickered. A stray bolt of thunder cracked outside the Bureau's windows.
Both froze.
"…Okay," Ne Job whispered. "Maybe it's slightly important."
Yue clutched the scroll tighter, her eyes narrowing. "This isn't just a memo. Xian gave us something sealed."
"Which means?"
"Which means," Yue said grimly, "that you've already tampered with classified information."
Ne Job paled. "I tampered? No, no, I was quality checking. Big difference."
"Tell that to the Audit Division when they drag you into the Shard Court."
---
Their progress quickened after that, Yue practically dragging Ne Job by the wrist. But the Bureaucracy wasn't going to let them off easy.
At the entrance to the Department of Weather Calibration, a minor clerk blocked the door. He wore spectacles too big for his face and carried a ledger thicker than his torso.
"Delivery protocols," he squeaked, holding out a hand.
"Here's the memo," Yue said smoothly, offering the sealed scroll.
But Ne Job, still stinging from the accusation of incompetence, puffed up his chest. "Hold on. I'm the assigned courier. I'll deliver it personally."
Yue shot him a warning look, but he was already stepping forward, scroll in hand.
The clerk adjusted his glasses. "State your classification code."
"…My what?"
"Your courier classification code."
Ne Job blinked. He glanced at Yue. She made a slicing motion across her throat, silently begging him not to speak.
But Ne Job spoke anyway. "Uh, yeah, totally. My code is… QWERTY-9000."
The clerk flipped through his ledger, frowned, and muttered, "Unrecognized code. Initiating verification."
The air shimmered. A circle of bureaucratic wards flared up around them, glowing with golden characters that pulsed like judgmental eyes.
"Unauthorized courier detected," the circle intoned.
Yue's face went white. "You idiot."
Ne Job swallowed. "So…uh…funny story…"
---
The wards constricted, pulling tighter. The scroll vibrated in Ne Job's hands, heat radiating from the silk binding. He yelped and nearly dropped it.
"Containment protocol activating," the circle droned.
Yue lunged, grabbing both Ne Job and the scroll. "Run!"
"But the wards—"
"They're diagnostic, not physical!"
That was all Ne Job needed to hear. He bolted, yanking Yue along as clerks shrieked and papers went flying in their wake.
Behind them, the golden wards pulsed louder: UNAUTHORIZED MEMO IN CIRCULATION. REPORT TO AUDIT DIVISION IMMEDIATELY.
The entire Bureau seemed to stir at the announcement. Doors slammed open, celestial accountants poked their heads out, and the sound of countless quills scratching across complaint forms rose like a storm.
Ne Job's heart pounded. He looked down at the scroll, still glowing faintly in his grip. "This is bad, isn't it?"
"This is catastrophic," Yue snapped. "That scroll isn't just a memo. It's a flagged document."
"Flagged…like, confidential?"
"Flagged…like it could trigger an audit from Heaven if mishandled."
Ne Job stumbled mid-run. "An audit? Already? But I just started!"
"Congratulations," Yue shouted over the din. "You might have just accelerated the end of the Bureaucracy as we know it."
---
They ducked into an archive chamber, slamming the door shut as distant footsteps echoed closer. Ne Job collapsed against a stack of dusty ledgers, clutching the scroll like it might explode.
"Okay," he wheezed. "New plan. We hide. Nobody saw us. Nobody knows. Problem solved."
"Wrong," Yue said, pacing. "Those wards broadcast your blunder across the entire Bureau. The Audit Division already knows."
Ne Job's face fell. "…So hiding's off the table."
"Very off."
Silence stretched. Dust motes swirled between them. The scroll pulsed in Ne Job's hands, as though alive.
Finally, Yue spoke. "Listen carefully. We're in deeper trouble than you realize. That scroll isn't ordinary. If it reaches the wrong hands—or stays unopened too long—it could trigger something worse than an audit."
Ne Job blinked. "Worse than an audit? What's worse than paperwork?"
Yue met his eyes, her expression grim. "The gods themselves asking questions."
The scroll flared brightly, red silk burning away in a burst of light.
Ne Job screamed. "I didn't do it this time!"
And the scroll slowly began to unroll by itself…