Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 109: "Assistant File: Y-01"
For the first time since the Archives reopened, Yue hesitated.
The glowing page floated between them — her file, pulsing faintly like a living thing. Lines of celestial script crawled across it, rearranging every few seconds as though trying to hide its own contents. The air was cold, but the kind of cold that carried static, the kind that hummed before lightning struck.
Ne Job crossed his arms, expression caught between concern and his usual dry amusement. "Well. Guess it's your turn to be the subject of divine paperwork."
Yue didn't respond immediately. Her eyes traced the floating characters, her pulse matching the flicker of the page. "This shouldn't exist," she murmured. "My record was sealed after the Rebirth Directive. The system shouldn't even remember me as a containment risk."
The Archivist Prime's voice resonated softly from the chamber walls — not cold, but cautious.
> "The Ledger recalls what Heaven cannot. If the file has resurfaced, it means your existence remains contested."
Yue turned to her, voice steady despite the tremor in it. "Contested by whom?"
> "By the Bureau itself."
Ne Job frowned. "You mean they're still trying to delete her?"
"Not delete," said the Archivist. "Reassign. Assistant Yue's role was rewritten post-Rebirth. But traces of her original coding remain within her divine core. The Ledger is trying to reconcile both identities."
Yue's voice sharpened. "I wasn't rewritten."
Ne Job stepped closer. "Yue…"
She raised a hand — not to silence him, but to steady herself. "If the Ledger wants to audit me, then I'll face it."
The page brightened, and the light swallowed them both.
---
They stood in a corridor made of glass and shadow — infinite rows of doors stretching outward in both directions. Each door bore Yue's name, but with a different title beneath it: Compliance Officer, Containment Specialist, Deleted Asset, Prototype Assistant.
Yue inhaled slowly. "These are all… versions of me."
Ne Job looked around. "Wow. You've been promoted and demoted across multiple realities. Impressive."
"Not amusing," she said flatly.
One of the doors pulsed. It opened with a hiss of data. Inside was a small office — neat, spotless, and painfully sterile. A younger version of Yue sat behind the desk, reviewing reports, her expression calm but empty.
Ne Job peered in. "She looks like you, but…"
"Without choice," Yue finished.
They watched as the younger Yue stamped files with perfect precision. Each document bore a seal: Containment Approved — Emotional Interference Expunged.
Yue's voice cracked. "That's what they wanted me to be. Efficient. Detached. A tool."
Ne Job's hand tightened at his side. "They almost succeeded."
The younger Yue looked up suddenly, her eyes locking onto them — as if she could see through time. "Error detected," she said mechanically. "Duplicate Assistant detected. Initiating overwrite."
The office walls shattered. Paperwork turned into chains of glowing script that shot toward Yue like spears.
Ne Job moved instinctively, the Chaos Spark flaring from his palm. The red arcs collided with the golden chains, dissolving them midair. "Hey! No rewriting my coworkers!"
The younger Yue's tone deepened, her voice now layered with the Bureau's automated resonance. "Containment breach confirmed. Emotion exceeds protocol threshold."
"Yeah," Ne Job said, stepping forward, "and that's kind of the point."
He slammed his fist into the glass floor. The Chaos Spark pulsed outward, distorting the room. The chains cracked — not from force, but from contradiction.
The real Yue stepped forward, eyes sharp, her aura no longer restrained by Bureau control. "Listen to me," she said to her younger self. "You don't have to follow the Directive. You don't need to erase what makes you human."
The younger version's movements faltered. "Humanity… corrupts… efficiency…"
"Efficiency isn't purity," Yue said softly. "It's fear."
She reached out and touched the mirrored version's hand. For a moment, the two Yues overlapped — logic and empathy, procedure and rebellion. Then the image shattered, not violently, but like ice melting into water.
The chains dissolved. The sterile office faded.
Yue opened her eyes back in the Archives, her pulse syncing with the rhythm of the Memory Ledger. The page that once contained her file now burned with pale blue light — the mark of restoration.
The Archivist Prime regarded her with quiet reverence. "You have rewritten your own record. Few beings have ever done so."
Yue exhaled slowly, relief trembling beneath her composure. "I only remembered who I was."
Ne Job grinned faintly. "And the Bureau lost another containment file."
The Archivist inclined her head. "Two, in fact. The Ledger now classifies you both as unarchivable anomalies."
Ne Job shrugged. "Sounds like a promotion."
Yue gave him a look, but a ghost of a smile betrayed her.
Then the Ledger pulsed again — harder this time, shaking the entire Archive.
Dozens of pages flew open at once, releasing waves of energy that formed into silhouettes — faint, humanoid figures made of fractured code.
The Archivist's calm cracked for the first time. "Impossible… those records were sealed by the Shard Court itself."
Ne Job's smirk faded. "Who are they?"
The Archivist's voice dropped to a whisper.
> "The First Interns. The ones who vanished before the Bureau was born."
The chamber trembled, papers flying like snow.
Ne Job looked at Yue. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
She adjusted her badge, eyes gleaming with quiet defiance. "Unfortunately, yes."
Ne Job cracked his knuckles. "Guess it's time for another audit."