Chapter 21 – The Mortal-Side Mismanagement
The mortal world shimmered into view like a faulty projector screen.
Ne Job landed first — face-first — into a pile of discarded instant noodle cups.
"Welcome to the human realm," Assistant Yue said dryly, stepping delicately onto the trash pile beside him. "Population: chaos."
Ne Job spat out a noodle strand. "Ugh! Why do mortals even eat this? It tastes like divine despair."
Yue flicked open her clipboard, tapping a button that projected a glowing mission brief. "Our task: audit the Department of Fortune Allocation, Southern Province Branch. They're suspected of... excessive favoritism."
Ne Job perked up. "Favoritism? Sounds like my last internship evaluation."
"No," Yue corrected, "this one actually affects lives."
---
They walked through a smoggy city, neon signs reflecting in puddles, ghosts mingling unnoticed among mortal pedestrians. The Department's office looked ordinary — a dusty old building wedged between a bubble tea shop and a pawn shop.
A glowing plaque read:
"Department of Fortune Allocation (Understaffed but Overconfident)"
Inside, chaos. Papers stacked to the ceiling. A half-asleep deity clerk was stamping fortune scrolls with one hand and scrolling through mortal TikTok with the other.
"Next!" the clerk croaked without looking up.
Yue flashed her divine audit badge. "Assistant Auditor Yue and Intern Ne Job, sent from the Heavenly Bureau of Efficiency."
The clerk froze mid-scroll. "Audit? Oh, uh— we were just about to, uh, clean up!"
A dozen fortune spirits scrambled like cockroaches, stuffing gold coins, love charms, and karma tokens into drawers.
Ne Job squinted. "Wait, are those fortune scrolls being sorted by zodiac… or by bribe amount?"
The clerk's smile twitched. "Depends on the zodiac's generosity."
---
The audit began.
Yue inspected ledgers with merciless precision. "These numbers don't align. The mortal who prayed for steady employment got bankruptcy instead."
The clerk mumbled, "Must've been a clerical error."
Ne Job leaned closer. "Or a cleric error."
Yue ignored him.
Another file caught her eye: 'Request: Lifelong Luck, signed by Influencer Noona_99' — approved instantly with a golden seal.
"Who authorized this?" Yue demanded.
The clerk trembled. "Uh… Director Bao. He runs the mortal fortune pipeline. Likes big data, big bribes, and bubble tea."
Ne Job cracked his knuckles. "Perfect. I'll go have a chat."
---
They found Director Bao in his private "office" — a penthouse suite filled with scented candles and golden koi projections swimming midair. He was reclining in a massage chair, sipping celestial milk tea.
"Director Bao?" Yue greeted coolly. "We're conducting a routine—"
"Audit, yeah, yeah." Bao waved dismissively. "Heaven's been nosy lately. Take a seat. Don't mind the smell — that's premium sandalwood stress relief."
Ne Job crossed his arms. "You've been rerouting mortal luck to influencers and streamers."
Bao shrugged. "Modern efficiency! Mortals follow those with attention. If a streamer gets lucky, thousands feel inspired. It's network karma."
Yue's expression didn't change. "That's not how divine balance works."
Bao smiled slyly. "Maybe not in your old-fashioned spreadsheets."
Ne Job's aura flared faintly — a faint crackle of red divine fire. "Want me to rebalance your spreadsheet with a fireball?"
"Intern," Yue warned. "No immolating the management."
Bao chuckled. "Cute intern. Tell you what — join me. I could use a chaotic assistant. I pay in unlimited mortal admiration."
Ne Job grinned. "Tempting, but I already have unlimited unpaid overtime."
---
The tension snapped when an alarm rune lit up across the office.
A mechanical voice echoed:
"Unauthorized energy fluctuation detected. Mortal fortune flow unstable."
Yue checked her tablet. "He's been siphoning fortune too fast — the mortal grid is destabilizing!"
Bao smirked. "Oops."
The room shuddered. A torrent of golden luck energy erupted from the ceiling, blasting open the skylight. In the mortal realm below, random humans started winning lotteries, surviving car crashes, and finding lost socks all at once.
Ne Job yelled, "That's it! He's giving everyone plot armor! We'll have a world full of protagonists!"
Yue's eyes widened. "And no side characters left to run society!"
---
Ne Job sprang into action, vaulting over Bao's desk and grabbing the fortune flow conduit — a glowing jade pipeline pulsing like a heartbeat. "I'll patch it!"
"Don't touch that—!" Yue began, too late.
The moment his hand touched the conduit, it surged. Golden threads wrapped around his arm, infusing his veins with raw mortal luck. Reality flickered.
He blinked — and suddenly, he was standing on a red carpet surrounded by screaming fans. Cameras flashed. A reporter shouted, "Ne Job! How does it feel to be the luckiest man alive?"
He stared blankly. "What."
Cut.
Back in the real office, Yue slapped her forehead. "He's been sucked into the probability field."
Bao laughed hysterically. "Congratulations, your intern is now statistically impossible to manage!"
Yue drew a seal paper, glowing with divine ink. "Then let's make this possible."
---
Inside the probability field:
Ne Job stumbled through shifting scenarios — winning contests, avoiding falling pianos, finding exact change every time he reached into his pocket.
At first, it was fun.
Then it wasn't.
Every outcome was perfect. Every mistake corrected itself.
Every risk rewarded.
He clenched his fist. "No failure, no chaos… no point."
Then he heard it — Yue's voice, echoing faintly through the golden haze.
"Intern! Anchor yourself! Remember your paperwork quota!"
That was enough.
Rage — and dread — surged through him. "NOOOO! NOT THE PAPERWORK!"
The illusion cracked. The field shattered like glass.
---
Ne Job burst back into reality, coughing golden smoke. Bao's luck conduits fizzled, reverting to normal flow.
Yue caught him before he fell. "Status?"
"Still unpaid… but spiritually taxed," he groaned.
Bao scowled. "You can't stop progress! Mortals love favoritism!"
Yue straightened. "Then we'll see how they love audited favoritism."
She stamped a glowing seal onto Bao's desk.
The building trembled as celestial chains wrapped around him.
He screamed, "Wait! I can explain—!"
"Explain it to HR," Yue said coldly. "In reincarnation."
---
As the office dissolved into mist, Ne Job looked down from the sky bridge. Mortals below were resuming their lives — some lucky, some unlucky, all balanced again.
He sighed. "You know, Yue… being lucky isn't as fun as surviving bad luck."
She smiled faintly. "That's the first wise thing you've said all day."
"Does that mean I pass this mission?"
"Let's review your report first."
Ne Job's face fell. "There's a report?"
"Of course." Yue pulled out a 78-page audit form.
He groaned. "Why does every adventure end with paperwork?!"
Yue smirked. "Because, intern — this is hell."