Ne Job: The Intern from Hell
Chapter 29 — Audit of the Replacement Incident
Summary:
After barely surviving the cursed form that tried to replace him, Ne Job faces an internal audit from the Bureau. Lord Xian tries to contain the scandal, Yue writes faster than a thunder god, and Ne Job swears he'll never touch a pen again — until the audit form lands on his desk.
---
Morning in the Heavenly Bureau began with an explosion.
Not the exciting kind — just Ne Job's desk catching fire again.
Yue calmly doused it with a divine extinguisher while sipping her tea. "Third time this week."
"It's Tuesday!" Ne Job groaned, smacking the ashes. "And I didn't even do anything this time!"
"You existed near combustible paperwork," Yue replied. "That's enough."
The office was unusually tense. Spirits whispered in the corridors. Even the floating filing scrolls avoided Ne Job's desk like it carried divine plague.
From the corner of the hall, a messenger cloud zipped by, dropping a sealed envelope stamped with golden ink.
The header read:
"INTERNAL AUDIT NOTICE: Unauthorized Form Activation (Category B)."
Yue looked over his shoulder. "Oh. You're being audited."
Ne Job blinked. "Again?!"
"Technically, this is a post-incident compliance review."
"That's just fancy talk for 'we're blaming the intern,' isn't it?"
"Exactly."
---
Lord Bureaucrat Xian stood in the upper office, hands clasped behind his back as the auditors from the Department of Inter-Form Integrity arrived.
Each auditor wore dark robes stitched with silver seals and carried scrolls thicker than Ne Job's entire arm. Their leader — an elderly celestial with ink-stained fingertips — bowed stiffly.
"Lord Xian," the lead auditor intoned. "We are here regarding the unauthorized activation of Form 9C-RF."
"I am aware," Xian said curtly. "Containment has been achieved."
The auditor adjusted his monocle. "Containment, perhaps. But the replacement record is still missing. Something — or someone — was overwritten."
"I'm investigating," Xian said. "Discreetly."
"That will not suffice," the auditor replied. "If the form replaced a celestial being, Heaven's registry must be updated. Otherwise, we risk a cosmic misalignment."
Xian's eyes narrowed. "You mean a reality glitch."
The auditor nodded. "A bureaucratic paradox. The universe cannot tolerate missing paperwork."
---
Down in the intern cubicle, Ne Job was filling out what he hoped was his last explanation form.
"Section 5B: Reason for Unauthorized Form Awakening," Yue read aloud. "What did you write?"
Ne Job pointed proudly.
> "Curiosity and possible divine sabotage."
"...That's not how you fill it," Yue sighed. "You're supposed to minimize guilt, not confess it creatively."
"But it was sabotage! The Forgotten God gave me that form!"
"Yes, and if you accuse a senior department head without evidence, you'll be smitten by legal lightning."
Ne Job's eyes widened. "There's legal lightning?!"
"Clause 3, Subsection 4: Punitive Enforcement of False Testimony."
He stared at her. "Heaven has laws about lying on forms but not about cursed pens?"
Yue smiled sweetly. "Priorities."
---
As the audit began, a shimmering circle appeared in the cubicle. The lead auditor emerged, carrying a clipboard glowing with divine authority.
"Intern Ne Job," he said, voice echoing with official disapproval. "Do you acknowledge that you caused an interdimensional form breach?"
"I acknowledge that the form attacked me first," Ne Job said quickly.
The auditor raised a brow. "Forms do not attack. They respond."
Yue muttered under her breath, "With violence."
"Silence, assistant," the auditor said. "We are not auditing you."
"Yet," she murmured.
---
The auditor flipped open his clipboard. "According to Bureau records, Form 9C-RF should not have existed. Its original applicant was erased from the system 400 years ago."
Ne Job swallowed. "Uh… erased how?"
"No data," the auditor replied. "But the system now lists you as replacement applicant."
Ne Job's heart dropped. "So I'm… registered as a four-century-old intern?"
"Technically," the auditor said, "yes. Congratulations on your long service."
"That's not a promotion, is it?"
"No. It means your unpaid internship just extended indefinitely."
Ne Job screamed into his sleeve.
---
Lord Xian arrived mid-meeting, his presence cutting through the tension like a sword made of protocol.
"That's enough," he said. "The intern acted under cursed form influence. He's not liable."
The auditor turned to him. "Not liable, perhaps — but responsible. Until we identify what was replaced, the anomaly remains linked to his celestial ID."
"Meaning?" Yue asked.
"Meaning," the auditor said, "if the missing entity resurfaces… it will attempt to reclaim its position."
Ne Job paled. "You mean… the guy I replaced might come back?!"
The auditor's expression was grim. "Or worse — the universe will create a duplicate to fill the missing slot."
Ne Job's eyes darted to the stack of blank forms on his desk. They rustled slightly. One sheet slid off the pile.
He stared at it.
Yue noticed too. "...That form just moved."
The auditor frowned. "Impossible. Forms can't move without—"
The paper slowly unfolded itself, revealing glowing calligraphy:
> APPLICATION REOPENED.
---
The auditor leapt back. "By the Celestial Archive! It's self-reactivating!"
Lord Xian slammed his palm down, summoning a golden seal barrier around the desk. "Yue! Containment protocol!"
"On it!" Yue pulled out an Emergency Filing Sphere, a glowing orb used to quarantine rogue paperwork.
The paper flapped violently, trying to escape. Ne Job ducked behind his chair. "I didn't touch it! I swear!"
"Stop talking and hold the seal steady!" Xian barked.
"I'm trying! It's slippery!"
"IT'S PAPER!"
"Exactly!"
After a blinding flash, the form was trapped inside the sphere, pulsing like a heart made of glowing ink.
Yue wiped her brow. "Contained."
Xian exhaled. "Good. I'll send this to the Bureau of Dimensional Records."
Ne Job peeked up nervously. "So… I'm not fired?"
Xian turned toward him slowly. "No. You're under observation."
Ne Job frowned. "That's… better?"
"Depends," Yue said. "Observation means someone watches your every mistake."
Ne Job sighed. "So… a normal day."
---
That evening, the Bureau finally returned to uneasy silence. The auditors left, muttering about "paradoxes" and "report deadlines."
Yue finished her report stack and stretched. "You survived another audit."
"Barely," Ne Job muttered, poking his bandaged arm where the form mark used to glow faintly. "I think it's still twitching."
"Don't scratch it. It might resubmit itself."
Ne Job shuddered. "I'm starting to think paperwork has feelings."
"Of course it does," Yue said. "That's why we file them carefully. It's how Heaven keeps functioning."
"By traumatizing interns?"
"By training them."
Ne Job slumped in defeat. "Training me for what?"
Before Yue could answer, a whisper echoed from the satchel again — the Evil Manual Spirit, chuckling softly.
> "For promotion, little intern. After all, every audit leaves a vacancy."
Ne Job froze. "...What vacancy?"
Yue frowned. "What did it say?"
He forced a smile. "Nothing. Probably the coffee talking."
But as they packed up, he noticed something odd — a new file folder sitting neatly on his desk.
Label:
"Pending Reassignment – Division Unknown."
Applicant: Ne Job.
---
To Be Continued...