Chapter 23 – The Paperwork Ghost Town
The mortal world wasn't quite what Ne Job expected.
He had imagined bustling cities, flashing lights, mortal snacks, and maybe a karaoke bar where gods secretly partied on weekends.
Instead, he stood in a dusty village with cracked roads, flickering lanterns, and a single shop that sold nothing but stationery.
"Assistant Yue," he muttered, peering into the shop window. "Why are there… three different brands of ink but no food?"
Yue adjusted her glasses, the mortal sunlight glinting off the frame. "Because this, dear intern, is your assignment site: the village of Inkvale. A settlement haunted by the spirit of unfinished paperwork."
Ne Job blinked. "You're telling me… there's a ghost made of forms?"
"Technically, yes. Every mortal soul that dies before completing their tax reports or registration forms adds to its mass. It's a bureaucratic anomaly." Yue's tone was calm, but her eye twitched slightly. "Heaven's HR flagged it as a Code 47—'Administrative Residue Cluster.'"
Ne Job whistled. "Wow, that's worse than a Code 99."
Yue gave him a flat look. "There is no Code 99."
"There should be. For when paperwork becomes sentient."
---
Mission Briefing
Lord Bureaucrat Xian's projection shimmered into existence above a floating scroll. Even as a hologram, he radiated the authority of someone who had never once missed a stamp deadline.
"Intern Ne Job. Assistant Yue. Your objective is to neutralize the ghost and restore document flow balance to Inkvale. Remember: minimal collateral, maximum compliance."
Ne Job saluted. "Sir! I'll make sure every form is signed, sealed, and—"
"—double-checked," Yue interjected quickly. "And reported back to HQ for counter-verification."
Lord Xian's eyes narrowed. "Assistant Yue, I trust you'll prevent him from… improvising again?"
"I'll try, sir."
The hologram faded, leaving behind a faint echo of disapproval.
---
The Investigation Begins
Inkvale's mayor, a tired man whose name badge literally read 'Acting Acting Mayor', greeted them with a bow.
"Thank Heaven you're here! The ghost keeps stealing our forms. We can't file taxes, open shops, or even apply for birth certificates. Babies are being born unregistered!"
Yue jotted notes on her clipboard. "When did this start?"
"After the Great Audit of last year. The spirit first appeared near the town archives. Every time we tried to burn the leftover paperwork, the smoke formed… screaming numbers."
Ne Job shuddered. "Sounds like my desk after evaluation day."
The mayor's hands shook. "We tried priests, exorcists, even a call to the Demon Commerce Department. They all sent me back a form asking for a form."
Yue nodded solemnly. "Typical."
Ne Job cracked his knuckles. "Don't worry, Mayor. I've defeated cursed spreadsheets, haunted staplers, and one very angry Excel spirit. This ghost doesn't stand a chance."
Yue frowned. "That Excel incident nearly destroyed Heaven's IT department."
"Details, details."
---
The Ghost Appears
As dusk fell, they entered the old town archives — a crumbling building filled with endless cabinets and paper towers stacked to the ceiling. Every sheet whispered. Every drawer hummed softly, like an office that refused to die.
Then, the temperature dropped.
A low moan echoed through the room. The papers began to rustle, swirling together into a tornado of bureaucratic rage.
From within the cyclone emerged a monstrous shape: a giant ghost made of overlapping forms, with eyes that glowed like rejected applications.
Its voice was an eerie echo: "MISSING... SIGNATURE... PAGE... THREE..."
Ne Job pointed. "You see that, Yue? I told you missing signatures are dangerous!"
"Focus!" she hissed.
The ghost hurled a storm of documents — certificates, receipts, rejection letters — all aimed straight at them.
Yue summoned a barrier of blue light, her divine clipboard glowing as it deflected the attack. "We need to find its core form — the one document it was born from!"
Ne Job ducked behind a desk. "And how exactly do we do that when it's throwing CVs like shurikens?!"
"You're the intern! Figure it out!"
He gritted his teeth. Fine. If this ghost wanted paperwork chaos, he'd fight fire with bureaucracy.
---
Battle of the Forms
Ne Job lunged forward, summoning his divine weapon — the Inkbrush of Destiny. He slashed through flying pages, each stroke leaving trails of bureaucratic fire.
"Form 27A!" he shouted, spinning the brush. "Request for Temporary Containment!"
The glowing sigil wrapped around part of the ghost, momentarily slowing it down. But then it ripped through the seal, shrieking: "REJECTED... MISSING ATTACHMENTS..."
Yue's eyes widened. "You didn't include the annex!"
"I didn't have the annex!"
"Then generate it!"
Ne Job frantically drew symbols in midair. "Annex 27A-sub-B—wait, is this the blue copy or the green one?"
"The green—no, the triplicate! Always triplicate!"
The ghost screamed again, launching a barrage of staplers.
"WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THOSE?!" Ne Job yelled, deflecting them.
"THEY COME WITH THE POSITION!" the ghost bellowed.
For a moment, the absurdity made him laugh — then a stapler hit him square in the forehead.
---
The Discovery
Yue scanned the air with her divine tablet, filtering through spectral data. "There — the core document! The Form of Eternal Delay! It's lodged in its chest!"
Ne Job smirked. "So, we rip it out?"
Yue adjusted her glasses. "No. We complete it."
The ghost roared as they approached. "NO ONE… CAN COMPLETE… THE FORM!"
"Oh yeah?" Ne Job twirled his brush, grinning. "Watch me."
He leapt into the air, dodging spectral binders, flipping past a swirling rain of contracts. Landing atop the ghost's shoulder, he jammed his brush into its chest, ink blazing like divine fire.
"Section A — Applicant Name!" he shouted, writing directly on the ghost's surface.
"Section B — Purpose of Submission! Section C — Divine Authorization!"
The ghost shrieked, its body shaking violently.
Yue ran beneath, catching loose pages and stamping them midair. "Hurry! It's destabilizing!"
"Almost there—just need the final box!"
"What box?!"
"The signature!"
Ne Job raised his brush — but the ink was gone. His divine supply was empty.
---
A Desperate Solution
He looked down at Yue. "I'm out!"
"Then use your blood!"
"WHAT?! That's unsanitary!"
"It's symbolic authorization under emergency clause—just do it!"
Ne Job groaned dramatically. "Fine!"
He bit his thumb and scrawled his name across the ghost's chest in glowing red ink. The last box filled.
The ghost froze. Its eyes dimmed. Slowly, its form began to unravel — papers fluttering away like autumn leaves.
Yue exhaled. "You did it. You actually completed it."
Ne Job collapsed backward, grinning. "Guess paperwork really is my calling."
"Don't say that," Yue said flatly. "Ever."
---
Aftermath
By dawn, the villagers were free. The ghost had dissolved into harmless forms, which neatly sorted themselves into labeled folders before vanishing.
The mayor wept tears of joy. "We can finally file our taxes again!"
Ne Job patted his shoulder. "That's… good? I think?"
Yue handed the completed report scroll to Lord Xian's projection. "Mission accomplished. Anomaly resolved."
Lord Xian's holographic eyes narrowed as he read the form. "Hmm. Efficient, but…" He looked up sharply. "Ne Job, did you sign this using blood?"
Ne Job grinned. "Symbolic dedication, sir."
"That's not dedication. That's a binding contract."
Ne Job froze. "Wait—what kind of binding?"
Lord Xian's tone turned grim. "The kind that links your essence to the unfinished souls of administrative residue."
The air grew cold again. The ground trembled.
Yue's clipboard flickered with red warning symbols. "Ne Job… you didn't just exorcise the ghost."
Ne Job gulped. "I… merged with it?"
The wind howled. Papers rose around him like a storm returning.
Lord Xian's projection flickered violently. "Contain him immediately! Before the Paperwork Resonance begins—"
The signal cut out.
Ne Job's eyes glowed faintly blue, and spectral ink began crawling up his arms.
"Oh no," Yue whispered. "You've become the new host of the Paperwork Ghost."
Ne Job's grin twitched nervously. "So… does this mean I get overtime pay?"