Chapter 4 — Secrets in the Scroll
The scroll unrolled with a hiss, like a snake shedding its skin. Scarlet light spilled across the archive chamber, painting the dust motes in ominous hues.
Ne Job screamed, dropping it onto the floor. "I didn't touch it! It opened itself!"
Assistant Yue lunged forward, slamming the edges down with her palms. "Idiot, hold it steady—before it—"
Too late. Characters carved from golden ink floated up from the parchment, circling in the air. They weren't ordinary bureaucratic annotations. These were living seals—script that bit and clawed at the air like angry wasps.
"…That doesn't look like a weather memo," Ne Job whispered.
Yue's face drained of color. "That's because it's not."
The glowing seals spiraled, rearranging themselves into a line of text across the air:
"Heavenly Audit: Preliminary Orders."
Ne Job blinked. "Audit? Already? But I haven't even finished orientation!"
"This isn't about you," Yue hissed, though her tone lacked conviction. "These orders are top-tier classified. No intern should've been able to even see them."
Ne Job puffed out his chest. "Well, maybe the Heavens recognized my natural talent."
"Or," Yue said flatly, "you're a walking catastrophe who just tripped into divine secrets."
The floating characters brightened. More text appeared, forming lines and subclauses:
Directive One: Prepare mortal census data for inspection.
Directive Two: Account for all divine expenditures in the last cycle.
Directive Three: Investigate irregularities in—
The words fizzled out before completing, like someone had yanked the ink mid-stroke. The parchment shivered violently, then snapped itself shut.
Silence.
Ne Job blinked down at it. "Oh. That's not so bad. Just boring paperwork."
Yue rounded on him. "Boring paperwork that can topple entire departments! Do you understand what an audit means here? No one does their ledgers properly. Half the gods cheat their expense reports. If these orders get circulated—"
"—Then everyone's toast?" Ne Job guessed.
"Exactly."
---
The door rattled. Voices echoed in the corridor outside.
"Seal anomaly detected."
"Level three alert. Sweep the archives."
Yue cursed under her breath. "Xian must've sent retrieval squads."
Ne Job looked at the scroll glowing faintly in his hands. "So…we just give it back? Problem solved?"
"Problem multiplied," Yue corrected. "Once they see it opened itself, they'll assume we deliberately broke the seal. And the Audit Division loves scapegoats."
Ne Job groaned. "I don't even like goats."
The door burst open. Two armored clerks stormed in, paper charms crackling with energy strapped to their spears.
"There!" one barked.
"Unauthorized scroll access!" shouted the other.
Yue grabbed Ne Job by the sleeve. "Run."
"Again? We just ran last chapter!"
"Shut up and move!"
---
They dashed through the Bureau's winding corridors, clerks hot on their heels. Ne Job clutched the scroll against his chest like it was a newborn dragon.
"This thing's cursed!" he panted. "Every time I touch it, it causes trouble!"
"Then stop touching it!" Yue snapped.
"Can't! It likes me!"
The scroll pulsed in agreement, glowing brighter.
They skidded around a corner and slammed straight into another squad of clerks.
"Unauthorized personnel!" one shouted.
"Seize the scroll!" cried another.
Ne Job panicked. His instincts screamed: fight or flight. Unfortunately, his brain chose a third option—improvise.
He hurled the scroll like a javelin.
It bounced off a clerk's helmet with a loud bonk, rolled across the floor, and smacked against a filing cabinet. The cabinet promptly exploded into a shower of unsorted celestial permits.
Yue's scream could've shattered marble. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"I panicked!" Ne Job wailed.
The scroll lay amid the paperwork storm, pulsing ominously. Gold characters leaked from its edges like smoke, curling into the air. The nearest clerk's spear crackled violently, overwhelmed by the seal's energy.
"Containment breach!" he yelled.
The entire hallway erupted in alarms—gong strikes, flashing lanterns, and a booming announcement overhead:
"Audit Division alert: Seal Class Red. All units mobilize."
---
Ne Job and Yue fled again, dodging down a side passage. They ended up in a forgotten annex stacked floor to ceiling with rejected proposals—like 'Ban Mondays from the Calendar' and 'Make Taxes Optional for Handsome Gods.'
Ne Job wheezed. "Okay. New rule. No more scroll throwing."
"Good rule," Yue growled. "Too bad we're already doomed."
The scroll trembled in Ne Job's hands, red silk smoldering slightly. It was heating up, like it wanted to explode.
"Yue," he said slowly, "this thing's…humming."
She froze. "That's not humming. That's activation."
The scroll snapped open again, this time faster, as if impatient. Golden text flared in the air:
"Directive Four: Appoint temporary custodian."
Ne Job pointed at the words. "Hey, that's me! It chose me!"
"It cursed you!" Yue barked.
But before she could snatch it away, glowing chains shot out of the text, wrapping around Ne Job's wrists. He yelped as the scroll branded its seal onto his palm.
"Custodian acknowledged," the scroll intoned.
"Oh no," Yue whispered.
Ne Job blinked at the mark burning on his skin. "…So, uh, this is like an honor badge, right?"
Yue covered her face. "It's a death sentence. The scroll just made you legally responsible for its safekeeping."
Ne Job's grin faltered. "Legally…responsible?"
"Which means," Yue said, dragging him toward the next hallway, "if anything goes wrong with this Audit, the gods will blame you first."
---
They didn't get far. A deep, echoing voice rumbled from the far end of the corridor.
"Who disturbs the sealed directives of Heaven?"
A tall figure stepped from the shadows—robes black as ink, face hidden behind a mask shaped like a ledger. Golden scales hovered above his hands, weighing invisible sins.
Yue swore under her breath. "An inspector."
Ne Job blinked. "What's an inspector?"
"The Audit Division's watchdogs," Yue whispered urgently. "They root out corruption, misfiling, and incompetence."
"Incompetence?" Ne Job squeaked. "That's my specialty!"
The inspector's voice boomed: "Present the scroll, or face disciplinary erasure."
Ne Job gulped. "Uh…can we negotiate?"
"No."
"Counter-offer: I run away screaming."
The inspector raised a hand. Golden chains shot out, snaring across the hallway.
Ne Job panicked and did the only thing his brain supplied—he held up the scroll like a shield.
The chains rebounded with a thunderclap, slamming into the walls instead. Dust and parchment rained down.
Yue's eyes widened. "…The scroll's protecting you."
Ne Job blinked, then grinned nervously. "Ha! Guess it really did choose me!"
The inspector tilted his head, unreadable behind the mask. "So be it. Custodian acknowledged. You will present yourself to the Shard Court."
Ne Job blanched. "Wait, the what court?"
"The Shard Court," Yue said grimly. "The highest tribunal of the Audit Division."
The inspector's chains snapped tight around them both—not binding, but tugging forward like a summons.
Ne Job whimpered. "Yue, this sounds bad."
"Bad?" Yue muttered. "This is catastrophic."
The inspector's voice thundered again.
"By authority of Heaven, Intern Ne Job, you stand summoned to the Shard Court. Your testimony will determine the fate of this Bureaucracy."
The scroll pulsed once more, as if mocking him.
And with a final tug, the chains dragged them toward judgment.