Ne Job: The Intern from Hell
Chapter 28 — The Form That Signed Back
Summary:
After surviving a day of heavenly bureaucracy, Ne Job accidentally awakens a cursed form that begins to fill itself — and targets him as its "applicant." Meanwhile, Lord Bureaucrat Xian senses a new paperwork anomaly brewing in the system.
---
The night was quiet — unnaturally quiet — in the Heavenly Bureau.
Only the scratching of Ne Job's brush echoed through the cubicle maze.
He was halfway through his fifth cup of celestial instant coffee when it happened.
The Form Replacement Form he had just completed began to move.
At first, it was subtle. A tremor through the parchment, like wind beneath paper. Then came the noise — faint scribbling, echoing from within the fibers themselves.
Ne Job leaned in, eyes wide. "...Is it supposed to do that?"
The parchment shimmered with glowing text as new words began appearing where he hadn't written anything:
> "Applicant: Ne Job."
"Replacement target: Intern ID 000-HL."
"Replacement successful."
Ne Job blinked. "Wait. Replacement of what—"
The air pulsed. A golden seal branded itself onto his arm like molten ink, shimmering with bureaucratic energy.
He yelped. "OW! Yue!!"
From her desk across the hall, Assistant Yue's calm voice drifted back. "If this is another incident involving stationary attacking you, I'm not standing up."
"This one signed me!" Ne Job shouted. "The form literally signed me back!"
Yue finally stood, gliding over with her clipboard. She eyed the glowing mark and sighed. "Oh no. That's not good."
"You think!?"
"That's the Mark of Authorization," she said. "It means the form recognized you as its new applicant… or its replacement."
Ne Job froze. "Replacement for what?"
Yue looked grim. "Possibly another intern who filled that form centuries ago."
"You mean someone's soul position just got swapped with mine?!"
"Could be worse," Yue muttered. "Sometimes it replaces you with a desk."
---
The Bureau's lights flickered as spiritual energy coursed through the office walls. In the upper floors, golden documents fluttered loose from their shelves, circling the corridors like panicked pigeons.
Lord Bureaucrat Xian felt it immediately. His quill snapped in half.
"Unauthorized Form Activation… in the intern sector," he hissed. "Not again."
He turned toward the crystal sphere hovering beside his desk — the Heavenly Ledger Monitor — which displayed glowing dots representing every active form in the Bureau.
One dot in particular was flashing red:
9C-RF / Replacement Form (Unauthorized Self-Signing).
"Ne Job," Xian growled. "Of course."
---
Back in the cubicle, Ne Job was trying to scrub off the glowing mark with divine eraser fluid. It only spread.
"Yue, I think it's… upgrading!" he said in panic.
The mark began expanding into branching calligraphy, forming circular seals across his sleeve. Faint whispers echoed from the paper scraps on his desk.
> "Applicant acknowledged. Initiating automatic submission protocol…"
Yue's eyes widened. "It's submitting you! You're becoming the form's entry!"
Ne Job screamed, grabbing the edges of the desk. "Cancel it! Revoke! Reformat!"
"Already trying!" Yue whipped out her celestial tablet, tapping through layers of spiritual encryption. "Who authorized the damn thing?!"
> "Authorized by: Forgotten God of Paperwork."
Ne Job's jaw dropped. "HE DID THIS ON PURPOSE!"
"Probably to test you," Yue said. "Or to take a day off."
"Can I reject the form?!"
"You can appeal it," she said.
"How!?"
"By submitting Form 9R: Appeal Against Form Misinterpretation."
Ne Job slammed his head into the desk. "There's a form for everything!"
---
Moments later, the cubicle filled with bright golden light. The mark on Ne Job's arm pulsed, then projected a 3D hologram of a massive celestial document — easily ten meters tall — descending like a divine guillotine.
> APPLICATION CONFIRMATION:
"Would you like to replace existing entity: Unknown Intern, filed 400 years ago under pending review?"
Ne Job stammered. "I—uh—no! Decline! DECLINE!"
But the holographic brush hovered above the "YES" box.
Yue's fingers blurred over her tablet. "I'm overriding the protocol—"
The Evil Manual Spirit's laughter slithered from Ne Job's satchel.
> "Why fight it, intern? The Bureau rewards initiative. Sign it. Ascend."
"Shut up!" Ne Job shouted.
> "Think about it. Replacement means promotion. Maybe you'll replace a celestial supervisor. Or Lord Xian himself…"
Ne Job's eyes widened. "...Promotion, huh?"
"NO," Yue snapped. "That's how the Manual corrupts you! Remember what happened to the last intern who signed something without reading?!"
Ne Job hesitated — and that was long enough.
The brush moved on its own.
> "Signature confirmed."
The entire room exploded with light.
---
When the glow cleared, Ne Job found himself… elsewhere.
He stood in a vast archive chamber — endless rows of glowing shelves, floating forms drifting through the air like jellyfish. The ground was made of paper, the air heavy with the smell of ink and time.
A single desk sat in the center, occupied by a young man in ancient intern robes — pale, hollow-eyed, frozen mid-scribble.
Ne Job swallowed. "Uh… hello?"
The man turned his head slowly. His voice was a whisper of dry parchment. "You… replaced me."
"I didn't mean to! It was an accident! I swear!"
The old intern smiled weakly. "They all say that. I was filling a replacement form too… four centuries ago."
"Wait, so this place—?"
"The Pending Room. Every unfinished form leads here. Endless revision. Eternal proofreading."
Ne Job's jaw dropped. "This is worse than hell."
The intern chuckled. "Welcome to Administrative Purgatory."
---
Meanwhile, back in the Bureau, alarms blared.
Yue stormed into Lord Xian's office, clutching her tablet. "He's been pulled into the Form Plane! The Replacement Form activated itself!"
Xian's face darkened. "Of course it did. That blasted god keeps embedding loopholes into the paperwork."
He stood, summoning a glowing pen-spear — a weapon forged from pure bureaucratic authority. "Prepare a retrieval warrant. Category Delta."
"Already signed, stamped, and duplicated," Yue said crisply.
"Good." He cracked his knuckles. "Time to do what I swore I'd never do again."
"Manual extraction?" Yue asked.
"Worse," Xian said grimly. "Form-to-form combat."
---
Inside the Paper Realm, Ne Job was already dodging flying documents. Forms the size of buildings chased him down corridors, stamping themselves violently against the floor.
> "APPLICATION REJECTED."
"SIGNATURE INVALID."
"INCOMPLETE JUSTIFICATION."
He screamed as one stamped across his back, branding him with a glowing rejection mark. "I GET IT! I'M A TERRIBLE INTERN!"
The old intern floated nearby, serene. "Acceptance is the first step to compliance."
"Stop sounding like a motivational poster!"
Before the next form could crush him, a surge of light ripped through the plane. Lord Xian stepped through a rift, cloak blazing with celestial authority.
"Intern Ne Job!" he roared. "What have you done this time?!"
Ne Job pointed helplessly at the chaos. "The form signed me first!"
Xian groaned. "That's what they all say."
---
Xian raised his pen-spear, slashing through a swarm of rogue forms. Each stroke rewrote reality, canceling the ink itself.
"By authority of the Heavenly Bureaucracy, I revoke this submission!" he thundered.
The massive Replacement Form screeched — yes, screeched — as its seals cracked apart. Ne Job shielded his eyes as the light shattered, scattering into dust.
When it was over, he was back in his cubicle. His robe was smoking. His desk was on fire again.
Yue doused it with divine extinguisher mist. "Welcome back."
Ne Job slumped in his chair, exhausted. "What… what did I replace?"
Xian's expression was unreadable. "No one knows. The registry erased itself."
Ne Job gulped. "So it could be… anyone?"
Xian narrowed his eyes. "Just stay away from any forms for a week. No writing. No touching. No thinking about documents."
Ne Job nodded rapidly. "Got it."
As Xian left, Yue muttered under her breath, "So what happens when a replacement form loses its target?"
The Evil Manual Spirit's whisper came again, low and pleased.
> "It looks for another."
The stack of blank forms on Ne Job's desk fluttered gently.
One of them wrote a single word on its own:
> "Next."