Chapter 34: After the Rewrite
(Arc 2: Audit from Heaven – Continuation)
Assistant Yue's quill froze halfway through a report.
The Bureau floor trembled — a faint vibration, like thunder wrapped in silence. Then came the whisper, faint but unmistakable, running through every piece of parchment in the building.
"Re... write…"
Every document in her office rustled as if alive. The golden Bureau seal on the wall flickered between symbols, its ink glowing and fading erratically.
Yue's heart sank. "No. Don't tell me he—"
A sudden BOOM echoed from the lower floors. An alarm rune burst to life, spraying crimson light across the office walls. The voice of the Bureau's emergency spirit blared overhead:
> "⚠️ ALERT! REALITY THREAD INTEGRITY DOWN TO 72%!
SOURCE: DEPARTMENT OF FORM EVOLUTION.
SUSPECT: INTERN NE JOB. AGAIN."
Yue didn't even pause to sigh this time. She simply grabbed her emergency binder, slammed it shut, and teleported.
---
The teleportation seal spat her out into chaos.
The pristine marble corridor leading to the Department had been replaced by a paper jungle — vines of sentient forms wrapped around pillars, staplers were floating in midair like drones, and a typewriter was barking orders at a mop.
Yue marched through the madness, dodging an airborne filing cabinet. "I leave him alone for one hour, and he turns the Bureau into interpretive paperwork art!"
A passing document tried to salute her. "Greetings, sub-director of anxiety!"
She flicked it aside with a charm. "Wrong department."
The hallway leading to Lab Room 7 — Ne Job's assigned area — was glowing faintly gold. Not just magic gold, but divine law gold — the kind reserved for world-level script.
Her stomach twisted. "That's not bureaucratic magic… that's an override."
She burst through the double doors.
Inside, the lab was unrecognizable. The walls had become parchment, the ceiling was now an open sky filled with drifting letters, and the floor had transformed into a glowing circle of text that pulsed like a heartbeat.
At the center stood Ne Job, floating two feet off the ground, holding a glowing stylus that trailed pure golden light. The entire room seemed to orbit around him.
He turned to look at her, eyes wide, a sheepish grin forming. "Oh hey, Yue! You're just in time — I think I accidentally became middle management!"
Yue froze. "...Explain."
"I touched a form," he said quickly, gesturing helplessly. "And it touched back. Then things got… creative."
"Creative," she repeated flatly, watching as a nearby document sprouted arms and began mopping the ceiling.
"Yeah! It's rewriting inefficient systems. Look — the filing cabinets now sort themselves alphabetically and morally!"
Yue pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ne Job, you activated the Rewrite Protocol. That's not self-revision magic — that's the Heavenly Law Compiler. It edits reality!"
He blinked. "Oh. That explains the flying teacups."
As if on cue, a teacup wearing a tiny hat floated by, politely bowing.
"Charmed to meet you, Intern Creator," it said in a prim voice.
Yue just stared. "I need a raise."
---
She rushed forward, deploying containment talismans. "Listen to me carefully. You're holding an artifact tied to the Forbidden Manual. If it keeps rewriting, the entire Bureau's logic thread could—"
CRACK!
The air split. Golden light flared, and text began spilling out into the room like liquid ink. Sentences formed in midair, reshaping the furniture as they passed.
> "Efficiency rate increased by 300%."
"Emotion module: installed."
"Overtime pay: denied."
Ne Job ducked as a sofa transformed into a floating throne of forms. "Hey, I didn't approve that last one!"
Yue grabbed his arm. "Stop thinking! It's reacting to your intent!"
He froze. "Wait—it's linked to my thoughts?"
The light flared again.
> "Caffeine reserves: infinite."
A coffee machine materialized beside him, immediately dispensing steaming cups.
Yue slapped her forehead. "You're making things worse!"
"Technically better," Ne Job said, sipping one. "The coffee's divine-grade."
Her glare could have smited a demon.
"Listen, Ne Job. You're a walking paradox — an intern with the will of a god and the attention span of a mortal teenager. That's exactly the type the Forbidden Manual resonates with!"
Ne Job frowned. "Then why me?"
Yue hesitated, lowering her voice. "Because the Manual was designed to rewrite stagnation. You… are stagnation's worst nightmare."
Before he could answer, the Bureau's emergency sigil burst through the wall — a glowing golden eye representing Lord Bureaucrat Xian's remote presence.
"ASSISTANT YUE," his voice boomed. "REPORT. WHAT IS THE STATUS OF THE INTERN?"
Yue turned, snapping to attention. "Containment in progress, my lord—"
The golden eye zoomed in on Ne Job floating midair surrounded by glowing paperwork spirits.
Xian's voice went flat. "Containment failed."
The eye dimmed for a moment as if sighing. "I leave for one council meeting…"
"Sir!" Yue interrupted. "If we purge him now, we risk destabilizing the rewrite loop. We have to anchor him instead!"
"Anchor him?" Xian repeated. "To what?"
Yue bit her lip, glancing at Ne Job, whose stylus was now drawing circles in the air like a bored student. "To me."
Xian's voice sharpened. "Assistant Yue—!"
"Just trust me, my lord! If I sync my aura to his, I can absorb part of the rewrite flow before it spreads."
She pressed her palm against Ne Job's chest. "Don't move."
He froze, eyes widening. "Uh, Yue? That's kind of personal space—"
The world exploded in light.
Glyphs surged around them like a storm, gold mixing with silver as her containment magic met the rewrite stream. The floor melted into pure script. She could feel his thoughts flickering through the connection — confusion, panic, caffeine, and somehow… genuine intent.
He wasn't trying to destroy anything. He was trying to fix everything — in the dumbest, most human way possible.
Yue's mind echoed with his thoughts:
> "If I can just make the forms smarter, no one has to overwork anymore…"
She almost smiled despite the chaos. "You idiot… you were trying to help?"
"Was that—bad?" he shouted over the noise.
"Mostly suicidal!"
The golden storm began to stabilize. Slowly, the light dimmed, the flying furniture settled, and gravity returned.
When the glow finally faded, Ne Job collapsed to the floor, unconscious but breathing. The stylus dropped beside him, its light extinguished.
Yue knelt beside him, exhausted but steady. "Containment complete," she muttered weakly.
The golden eye of Lord Xian reappeared, dim with disbelief. "Assistant Yue… explain how he just rewrote Bureau protocol to grant 'mandatory coffee breaks.'"
Yue sighed, brushing stray paper from her hair. "Long story short, my lord—Heaven just got unionized."
For a moment, silence. Then Xian's voice cracked with restrained fury.
"...Find him a department where he can't cause miracles."
The connection faded.
Yue looked down at Ne Job, asleep on the floor, still smiling faintly like he'd just passed a group project by luck.
Her expression softened, but her eyes were troubled.
The stylus beside him flickered once — faintly, like a heartbeat.
Yue whispered, "Whatever you're becoming, Ne Job… I hope you're on our side."
Outside, unseen, the rewritten Bureau clock struck thirteen.
And somewhere deep within the archives, the Forbidden Manual stirred again.