Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 132: "The Rebirth Bureau Orientation"
The Bureau was alive again—sort of.
Where once stood immaculate marble halls and golden archives now rose an architectural migraine. Corridors bent into themselves. Desks floated at impossible angles. The filing cabinets sang Gregorian chants in triplicate harmony.
And through this divine mess walked one very confused intern.
Ne Job rubbed his eyes, coffee in one hand, chaos still flickering faintly under his skin. "Okay… either I'm still in the audit or the afterlife hired a cubist architect."
Beside him, Assistant Yue marched with her clipboard and what remained of professional dignity. "Technically, you rebooted Heaven's bureaucratic structure," she said flatly. "So yes, this is your fault."
Ne Job gestured at a wall that kept turning into a door every time he blinked. "It's beautiful."
Yue didn't even look up. "It's a violation of seven hundred dimensional safety clauses."
The two walked down a corridor that led them—somehow—to the Orientation Hall. Or at least, what used to be it. The once-gleaming lobby now resembled a hybrid of celestial embassy and open-plan nightmare. A holographic receptionist—half angel, half fax machine—beamed at them.
> "Welcome to the Rebirth Bureau! Please take a number."
A slip of paper materialized in Ne Job's hand. It read: Number ∞. Estimated Wait Time: Yes.
Yue pinched the bridge of her nose. "They gave us infinity."
Ne Job shrugged. "Efficient."
Behind the counter, a dozen new interns scurried about—wide-eyed, glowing faintly, still adjusting to existence. A few recognized Ne Job immediately and whispered in awe.
> "That's the one who rewrote the Audit!"
"He hacked divine law!"
"Isn't he technically illegal?"
Ne Job waved. "Good morning, fellow rule-breakers!"
Yue yanked him by the collar. "Stop inspiring civil disobedience before coffee hour."
A deep voice interrupted—measured, calm, and resonant with divine bureaucracy.
"Intern Ne Job. Assistant Yue."
They turned to see Lord Bureaucrat Xian descending from the staircase—alive, unburned, and somehow sipping from a cup labeled 'Do Not Disturb Until Apocalypse.'
Yue nearly dropped her manual. "Lord Xian—how are you even—"
Xian waved a hand. "Existential loophole. Your intern's creative filing granted me temporary reinstatement through paradoxical paperwork."
Ne Job grinned. "So… I promoted you back to godhood?"
"Temporarily." Xian's gaze softened, for once not condescending. "What you did, Ne Job… was both catastrophic and necessary. You burned down divine order and gave it a pulse again."
Yue crossed her arms. "At the cost of rewriting causality and introducing sentient furniture."
As if on cue, a nearby chair sneezed.
Ne Job pointed. "He's learning!"
Xian sighed, sipping his divine coffee. "The Bureau is now self-aware, adaptive, and unpredictable. You've turned a system of rules into a living organism. It will require… supervision."
Yue stiffened. "You mean containment."
"No," Xian corrected, smiling faintly. "I mean management."
A glowing sigil appeared before Ne Job and Yue—freshly minted ID badges reading:
> Rebirth Bureau — Division of Chaotic Continuity.
Supervisor: Ne Job.
Assistant: Yue.
Ne Job blinked. "Supervisor?!"
Yue blinked harder. "Assistant?!"
Xian nodded. "Congratulations. You two are in charge of ensuring that this new Heaven doesn't implode from creative paperwork."
Ne Job stared at the badge, then at Yue.
She muttered, "If you make me fetch coffee, I'm rewriting you."
He grinned. "Relax. First order of business—orientation for the new interns. Maybe explain that 'time' is now optional."
Yue sighed. "We're doomed."
The lights above flickered, reshaping into glowing letters that scrolled across the ceiling:
> WELCOME TO THE NEW AGE OF ADMINISTRATION. ALL ERRORS ARE NOW FEATURES.
Somewhere in the distance, Dreivery Spirit Bao's voice echoed through the halls—
> "Package delivery for Supervisor Ne Job! Warning: Parcel may contain existential hazards!"
Ne Job stretched, rolled up his sleeves, and smiled like a man who had finally accepted chaos as his cubicle mate.
"Yue," he said, "let's go see what we broke this time."
Yue groaned but followed anyway. "At least make it look like we're fixing it."
Together, they stepped into the pulsing labyrinth of their reborn Bureau—
where divine order had a sense of humor, and paperwork had begun to dream.