Chapter 5 – The Stamps of Destiny
Ne Job had barely survived the avalanche of forms yesterday. His hands still twitched from repetitive character-writing trauma. Assistant Yue had smirked and called it "good wrist training." Ne Job called it "cruel and unusual calligraphy abuse."
Today, however, Yue had promised him something "simpler." That word instantly put Ne Job on guard. In Yue's mouth, "simpler" usually meant "a new way to suffer."
They arrived in the Records Annex, where the air was thick with the smell of ancient paper and ink that had long since fossilized into bureaucracy itself. Rows of shelves towered like oppressive mountains, each stacked with scrolls and ledgers. At the center of the hall, on a dais, sat a box the size of a coffin. It rattled ominously.
Yue clapped his hands. "Welcome, intern, to your second major responsibility: stamp management."
"Stamps?" Ne Job blinked. "Like… postage?"
Yue's smile could have curdled milk. "Hardly. These are the Stamps of Destiny. Each one validates and activates a heavenly decree. Misuse them, and you may accidentally assign a mortal to the wrong reincarnation slot, trigger an unseasonal typhoon, or accidentally marry two demons who really shouldn't be together."
The box lid creaked open. Inside lay dozens of wooden stamps, each glowing faintly with divine energy. They pulsed like they had their own heartbeats. Some were round, some square, some shaped like things Ne Job didn't want to identify.
One in particular hissed when Ne Job looked at it.
"I don't like this," Ne Job muttered.
"That," Yue said, pointing to the hissing stamp, "is the Dragon Seal for Maritime Incidents. Handle it with care. Drop it once, and half the South China Sea will get a new reef."
Ne Job gulped. "Why do you trust me with these? I literally set the filing cabinet on fire yesterday."
"Because," Yue replied, "we don't have budget for another intern."
That was apparently the only explanation needed.
---
Ne Job's first task was "routine stamping." A cart of documents arrived, wheeled in by a minor god who looked like he regretted every career choice that had brought him here. Each scroll carried mortal requests: prayers for good harvests, petitions for children, applications for divine intervention during exams.
"Select the correct stamp and apply it neatly at the bottom," Yue instructed. "A wrong choice will result in… consequences."
Ne Job picked up a scroll. A farmer had asked for rain to save his crops. "Okay. Which stamp makes rain?"
Yue tapped his chin. "Should be the Cloud Seal. Round, faintly damp, smells like mildew."
Ne Job rummaged through the coffin-box until he found one dripping faintly. "Got it." He pressed it onto the scroll. The paper instantly soaked and blurred into a soggy mess.
Yue frowned. "Ah. That was the Flood Seal."
Outside, thunder rolled. Somewhere in the mortal realm, a farmer screamed as his entire field turned into an impromptu rice swamp.
Ne Job panicked. "Undo button?! Where's the undo button?!"
"There is no undo," Yue said serenely. "Only paperwork." He handed Ne Job another form labeled Correction Request for Unintended Natural Disaster (Category B).
Ne Job's hands shook. "I'm going to drown humanity by lunchtime."
---
By midday, Ne Job had caused:
Three unexpected weddings between unrelated mortals.
One premature eruption of Mount Linghua.
And a minor haunting incident involving someone's laundry.
Yue remained disturbingly calm. "Not bad for your first day. I've seen interns wipe out whole provinces before lunch break."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?!" Ne Job snapped.
Before Yue could answer, the ground trembled. A shadow fell across the Annex. The towering form of Lord Bureaucrat Xian appeared at the entrance, his long robes flowing like storm clouds. His gaze was sharp enough to pin mortals to their karma ledgers.
"Progress report," he said. His voice was the sound of grinding millstones.
Ne Job nearly swallowed his own tongue. Yue bowed smoothly. "The intern is making steady progress in stamp allocation."
Xian's gaze fell on the pile of disasters Ne Job had produced. He picked up the soggy rain-flood scroll, sniffed it, and his eyebrow twitched. "Progress, you say."
Yue coughed delicately. "Creative… progress."
Xian's eyes narrowed at Ne Job. "Intern, do you understand the weight of what you hold? Each stamp carries divine authority. You are shaping the mortal realm with every press."
Ne Job's forehead was slick with sweat. "Yes, sir! Completely understand, sir!"
"Good." Xian leaned closer until Ne Job could see the bureaucratic ink stains on his beard. "Then tomorrow, you will demonstrate mastery. You will handle the Grand Stamp of Reincarnation."
Ne Job froze. Yue went pale.
"That's… advanced," Yue said carefully.
Xian ignored him. "If the intern fails, we will know he is unworthy of this office. And unworthy interns…" His voice dropped to a chill whisper. "…are recycled."
Ne Job had a sinking feeling "recycled" did not mean environmentally friendly.
Lord Xian swept out of the Annex, leaving only silence and Ne Job's pounding heart.
Yue looked at him with genuine pity for once. "Well. Guess we'd better prepare you."
Ne Job's knees wobbled. "Prepare me how?"
Yue patted the coffin-box of stamps. "Crash course in reincarnation protocol. Don't worry. Only a dozen things can go catastrophically wrong."
Ne Job groaned. "At this point, I'd rather be reincarnated myself."
The coffin-box rattled in agreement.