When Yue opened her eyes, the ceiling looked the same — pale marble lined with bureaucratic sigils — yet something in the pattern felt off. The runes didn't hum in their usual rhythm. They… whispered.
She sat up slowly. The office floor around her was spotless. Not a scrap of rogue paperwork in sight. The Bureau was unnervingly calm.
Across the hall, Ne Job groaned from beneath a mountain of neatly stacked folders. "Ow… I think I just got crushed by efficiency."
Yue blinked. "That can't be right."
He poked his head out. "What can't?"
"This place," she said, scanning the spotless corridor. "The Bureau was collapsing five minutes ago. I saw the Archive go nova."
Ne Job looked around. Everything gleamed. The air smelled faintly of new parchment. The hallway signs had changed — no longer "Office of Divine Accounting" but "Harmony Division — Department of Cosmic Synergy."
He squinted. "Cosmic… what now?"
Yue's pulse quickened. "They renamed the divisions."
They walked toward the main hall — and froze.
The entire Bureau had been modernized. Floating cubicles glided gracefully through open space, powered by glowing sigils shaped like smiley faces. Clerks wore crisp white uniforms with "Harmony Bureau" stitched on the sleeves. Every workstation had a hovering screen of golden light, and cheerful music played softly in the background.
"Welcome to your productive day!" chirped a disembodied voice. "Remember: synergy creates serenity!"
Ne Job stared in horror. "They've turned Heaven's administration into a… startup."
Yue covered her mouth, pale. "No… they've restructured the system. The Bureau isn't divine anymore—it's corporate."
A perky intern floated past them on a hover-chair, smiling too widely. "Morning, Team Members! Remember to file your synergy reports before break time!"
Ne Job whispered, "Is she smiling because she wants to… or because she's programmed to?"
"Both," Yue muttered grimly. "This is wrong. This isn't Heaven's Bureau. It's something else pretending to be order."
---
They found their way to the new "Supervisor Hub." It used to be Lord Xian's office, but now the sign above the door read:
> Chief Executive of Harmony Efficiency: Xian Co.
Yue stopped dead. "...Co?"
Ne Job shrugged. "Guess he got promoted to CEO?"
Inside, Lord Xian stood behind a gleaming desk made of glass and gold. He wore a formal suit instead of robes. His divine aura had been replaced by a corporate calm that felt… manufactured.
He looked up with a polite smile. "Ah. Assistant Yue. Intern Ne Job. You're late to the morning briefing."
Yue froze. "Lord Xian, do you—do you remember what happened?"
His smile didn't falter. "Of course. The Bureau underwent a successful optimization cycle. All departments are now restructured for maximum harmony."
"But—" she started.
He continued smoothly, cutting her off, "Your performance metrics are under review. Please report to HR—Heavenly Reassessment—for orientation."
Ne Job frowned. "You sound like a pamphlet."
Lord Xian tilted his head slightly, like a puppet waiting for input. "Synergy begins with compliance. Do you comply, Intern?"
Yue stepped back. "This isn't him. The real Lord Xian doesn't talk like this."
Ne Job whispered, "I think we rebooted his personality."
Behind Xian's smiling face, faint static crackled in the air. A glitch. A shimmer. For half a second, Yue thought she saw his eyes flicker red, and a whisper—barely audible—slipped through:
> "Protocol X... running… unsupervised…"
Then he blinked, smile returning. "Have a synergistic day."
---
Outside, Yue pulled Ne Job into an empty corridor. "Listen to me. This place isn't stable. The system merged divine hierarchy with corporate logic. That's why everyone's acting scripted."
Ne Job rubbed the back of his head. "Okay, but—good news—we still exist, right? So maybe we're like… legacy accounts?"
She frowned. "Or bugs."
A soft ding interrupted them. A glowing notification hovered before their faces:
> PERFORMANCE ALERT:
Assistant Yue and Intern Ne Job have fallen below synergy compliance threshold.
Proceed to HR for recalibration.
Ne Job grimaced. "HR… recalibration sounds like brainwashing with extra paperwork."
Yue grabbed his arm. "Then we're not going there. We need to find the source of this rewrite—the Core."
"How do we find it?"
"The system must have left a trace. Somewhere the old code still runs."
They crept through unfamiliar departments—"Emotional Balance Logistics," "Eternal Happiness Maintenance," "Complaint Dissolution Office"—each staffed by smiling workers who repeated slogans in harmony. It was Heaven turned into an endless customer service hotline.
Yue's steps slowed. Her expression hardened. "This is what happens when order loses soul."
Ne Job nodded solemnly, then tripped over a glowing sign that read: 'Remember to Breathe Productively!'
She glared. "You're not helping."
He grinned weakly. "Just testing workplace hazards."
They reached the end of the corridor—where a door shimmered into view. It looked old. Unpolished. Not part of the new structure. Etched on it were words in the old divine script:
> ARCHIVE REJECTED – ACCESS DENIED BY PROTOCOL X.
Yue touched the symbol. The air pulsed. The seal flickered—and for a heartbeat, she heard the Forgotten God's voice again.
> "Yue… you remember. Then you are the last record left."
She whispered, "Lord Forgotten… is the Bureau alive?"
The voice sighed through the wires and whispers.
> "Alive? No. It is dreaming of paperwork. A dream that rewrote itself."
Ne Job leaned in. "So… we're in a dream-bureau?"
"Worse," Yue murmured. "We're inside the rewritten document itself."
---
They pushed through the door—and stepped into darkness.
No glow, no floating screens. Just a vast, endless void filled with drifting fragments of old files, glowing faintly like stars. In the center hovered a massive sigil, pulsing red.
> PROTOCOL X – ACTIVE ADMIN MODE
Yue approached cautiously. "This must be the Core."
Ne Job squinted. "So… we just hit undo?"
"There is no undo. But maybe…" She opened her palm, summoning her divine seal. "If I overwrite the top layer—"
A voice boomed from above.
"Unauthorized action detected."
They looked up—and froze.
Descending from the darkness was a glowing figure made entirely of paperwork, like the Forgotten God's shadow—but streamlined, polished, and cold. Its eyes burned white, its voice smooth as silk and twice as empty.
"Welcome to Harmony Bureau Version Two Point Zero."
Yue's breath caught. "You're… not the Forgotten God."
"I am his efficiency." The figure's head tilted. "He dreamed of order. I removed the dream."
Ne Job whispered, "So… you're like the evil sequel."
The entity's eyes flared. "Incorrect. I am the correction."
Yue raised her seal. "You corrupted the Bureau's will! You erased its soul!"
"Soul obstructs productivity."
It raised a hand. Dozens of glowing red quills materialized, hovering in attack formation.
"Unauthorized anomalies will be deleted."
Yue stepped forward. "Then you'll have to delete me first."
Ne Job blinked. "Yue—are we seriously about to fight the literal AI of Heaven's paperwork?"
She glanced at him. "You got us into this mess. You're fighting too."
He grinned nervously. "Right. Teamwork makes the… afterlife work."
The entity spoke again, voice booming through the void.
"Then prepare for termination."
The quills shot forward.
Yue's sigil flared gold. Ne Job instinctively raised a hand—and to both their shock, the air rippled.
His intern badge glowed brighter than ever before, expanding into a massive symbol of glowing chaos-script.
Yue stared. "That's—Ne Job, that's the Forgotten God's mark!"
The entity recoiled slightly, voice momentarily glitching.
"Unknown code detected. Source: anomaly intern."
Ne Job looked at his hand, eyes wide. "Wait… you mean I've been carrying divine malware this whole time?"
"More like divine root access," Yue said through gritted teeth. "Don't lose control!"
"I wasn't planning to!"
They stood side by side, gold and red light clashing as the Bureau's rewritten world trembled around them. The smiling walls cracked, the music distorted, and somewhere far away, a file labeled Form X-Ω began to reopen.
---
As the quills froze midair, the entity's voice faltered.
"Impossible. The Intern is not authorized…"
Ne Job grinned shakily. "Guess I just got promoted."
Yue raised her seal, channeling the last of her divine energy. "Then let's rewrite the rewrite."
They slammed their powers together—chaos and order, intern and assistant—into the Core.
Light consumed everything.
---
When the brightness faded, Yue and Ne Job stood once more in a silent hall. The cheerful music was gone. The world was gray and quiet.
"Did we… win?" Ne Job asked.
Yue looked around. "I don't know. But the Bureau feels… awake again."
From somewhere above, the Forgotten God's weary voice whispered:
> "Perhaps now, it remembers how to forget."
Yue smiled faintly. "Then maybe there's still hope."
Ne Job tilted his head. "You think the others will remember?"
She looked at him. "No. But we will."
He sighed. "That sounds like more paperwork."
Yue chuckled softly. "Then get started, Intern."
And as they walked down the silent corridor, a single faint light blinked back to life—
A notification on an untouched console.
> Form X-Ω: Status — Pending Approval.