Chapter 13 – The Audit Begins
Ne Job had faced monsters, bureaucrats, and exploding filing cabinets, but nothing sent a chill down his spine like the words stamped in glowing red across the Bureau's main entrance that morning:
AUDIT IN PROGRESS.
"Assistant Yue!" Ne Job shouted the moment he pushed through the doors, nearly tripping over his own robes. "Why didn't anyone warn me?! I would have—uh—tidied my desk!"
Yue, who was already balancing three clipboards and two abacuses like some kind of divine juggler, gave him a look that could melt jade. "I did warn you. I gave you four memos, three reminders, and I even taped one to your forehead during yesterday's nap."
Ne Job rubbed his forehead sheepishly. "Ah, so that's what that was… I thought I was being marked for exorcism."
"Close enough," Yue muttered.
The Bureau's usually chaotic halls were now scrubbed and sparkling. Floors gleamed, incense smoke was carefully calibrated to 'calm yet efficient,' and even the gremlins that lived in the document shredder had been bribed into silence with roasted chestnuts.
At the far end of the hall stood Lord Bureaucrat Xian, stiff-backed as ever, trying to look as if he had always run the Bureau like a flawless jade machine. His fan snapped open with authority, though Ne Job noticed the faint tremor in the old man's hand.
"Everyone, remember," Xian barked, "the auditors from Heaven's Ministry of Efficiency are merciless. They will find any flaw, no matter how small. A misplaced seal, an unfiled report, an intern who—" his eyes landed squarely on Ne Job "—exists."
Ne Job tried to salute but only succeeded in dropping his ink brush into his own sandal.
Yue pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is why I brought a spare intern manual."
Before Ne Job could ask whether the manual was supposed to train or restrain him, the sound of celestial trumpets blared. The very walls straightened themselves, scroll racks aligning as if under military command. The auditors had arrived.
---
Three figures floated into the Bureau, their feet never touching the floor. They wore immaculate robes with golden sashes embroidered with the words 'Efficiency Above All.' Each held a jade tablet etched with glowing runes.
At the front was the lead auditor, a tall, sharp-featured woman whose gaze could slice through granite. Her nametag glowed with divine authority:
Heavenly Auditor: Lady Qilin.
"Bureau of Reincarnation Records," she intoned, her voice resonant and judgmental. "Prepare for examination."
Xian bowed so low his hat nearly fell off. "Honored Lady Qilin, we welcome you. Our humble Bureau is—"
"Messy," she cut in. "Already I detect inefficiencies. The incense smoke is two degrees above optimal calming frequency. Dock ten points."
Ne Job blinked. "Wait, you can measure incense temperature?"
Qilin's eyes flicked toward him. "Who is this?"
The room froze. Even Yue stiffened. Xian inhaled as though preparing for execution.
"This… is our… intern," he said finally, each syllable sounding like it cost him a year of lifespan.
"Intern?" Qilin repeated, as though the word itself was offensive. "Heaven's records do not indicate authorization for additional personnel."
Ne Job laughed nervously. "Oh, you know how it is—sometimes Heaven sends extra paperwork, sometimes they send… extra me."
The silence was so absolute Ne Job could hear the dust mites filing complaints.
Qilin's eyebrow rose. "We shall see." She tapped her jade tablet. Symbols swirled, glowing chains wrapping around Ne Job's body. His limbs froze, his mouth clamped shut.
"Hey—mmph!"
Yue hissed under her breath. "Don't resist. It's a truth-binding spell."
Qilin approached, her gaze boring into Ne Job's very soul. "Intern. State your purpose in this Bureau."
The chains compelled him. His mouth moved against his will.
"Uh… to… make… everyone's life more difficult?"
The hall erupted. A clerk fainted. The shredder-gremlins cackled. Xian looked like he might combust on the spot.
Qilin did not smile. "Honesty is commendable. Efficiency, less so. We will investigate further."
She released the chains, and Ne Job collapsed like a sack of turnips.
---
The audit stormed through the Bureau like a divine typhoon. Qilin and her fellow auditors swooped from desk to desk, tallying mistakes, deducting points, making notes in their glowing tablets.
One clerk lost twenty points because his scrolls weren't arranged in chronological order. Another was fined for using a red seal instead of crimson-red. A third was dragged away screaming after they discovered he had been padding his reincarnation statistics by reincarnating the same goat three times.
Ne Job tried to stay invisible. He really did. But fate—or more accurately, his own incompetence—had other plans.
"Intern!" Yue snapped at him. "Fetch me the ledger of Mortal Hero Allocations, Section C."
"On it!" Ne Job saluted, dashing toward the archive room. He yanked open the wrong shelf, and out tumbled not Section C, but a forbidden manual glowing with ominous purple energy.
The Evil Manual Spirit chuckled from within the pages. "Ah, my favorite bumbling courier. Care to unleash chaos again?"
Ne Job shoved it back, sweating. "Not now! I'm already in trouble!"
Unfortunately, one of the auditors had seen the glow. "What was that?"
"Nothing!" Ne Job squeaked. "Just… creative filing!"
Qilin's eyes narrowed. "We will examine that later."
---
Hours passed, the Bureau's score steadily dropping under the auditors' merciless gaze. Even Xian's perfect posture began to wilt. Yue was scribbling so furiously her brush caught fire.
Finally, Qilin summoned everyone to the main hall. She raised her jade tablet, numbers blazing across it.
"Preliminary results: The Bureau of Reincarnation Records is currently operating at sixty-three percent efficiency."
Gasps filled the room. That was dangerously close to the threshold for Bureau dissolution.
"And," Qilin added, her eyes once again locking onto Ne Job, "further anomalies have been detected. Records suggest irregularities connected to this intern. Pending investigation, he may be classified as… unauthorized existence."
Ne Job froze. Unauthorized existence? That sounded a lot like "oops, you were never meant to exist in the first place."
Yue's eyes widened. Xian dropped his fan. Even the shredder-gremlins stopped chewing.
Qilin's jade tablet pulsed ominously. "Intern Ne Job, tomorrow at dawn, you will present yourself before the Heavenly Tribunal for verification of your very right to exist."
The glow from the tablet spread across the hall, sealing the decree in blazing golden script.
Ne Job's knees buckled. "Wait—my right to exist?!"
"Failure to prove legitimacy," Qilin said coldly, "will result in immediate erasure from all records. Past, present, and future."
The decree vanished into the heavens with a flash, leaving the Bureau in stunned silence.
Ne Job swallowed hard. For once, he had no witty comeback. Only one thought hammered in his head:
If I fail tomorrow… I won't just lose my internship. I'll lose everything.