1. The Angel Drops the Mask
The courtroom warped, half-constructed. Marble columns flickered, switching between polished stone and stacks of scrolls tied with cord. Everything shifted around Tegarchiel, as if reality was afraid of what he would say next.
His paper wings curled inward, pages trembling like feathers soaked in rain.
"You think Heaven cherishes angels who work?"
His voice was no longer echoing with divine authority.
It was flat. Bitter. Mortal.
"Heaven cherishes results," Tegarchiel said. "Not the ones who make them happen."
Ne Job didn't know whether to respond or hide behind Yue.
He chose the coward's hybrid option: inch behind Yue then respond.
"That sounds… terrible?" he offered.
Tegarchiel tilted his head.
"Life in this Bureau sounds worse."
He looked down at Ne Job, and the weight of that stare pinned him harder than a thousand paperwork stacks.
"I filed seventy-three thousand forms in nine months," the Angel said softly.
"And Heaven promoted my supervisor."
Yue muttered, barely audible:
"Intern trauma. It's always the worst kind."
---
2. The Forgotten God Fights on His Knees
A storm of paper-blades slammed into the Forgotten God of Paperwork, driving him to one knee. Ink splattered across the marble floor like blood.
The god breathed heavily, shoulders trembling.
He stabbed his pen-staff into the ground, anchoring himself as the Duel of Accountability continued.
Ink barriers flickered into existence around him. They weren't elegant anymore—rough lines, sloppy strokes, panicked handwriting. Every shield screamed I AM TRYING MY BEST.
Tegarchiel crushed one barrier with a gesture.
"You taught Heaven how to outsource," he spat.
"You built the first mortal processing wing. You created the internship caste."
The Forgotten God looked up slowly.
"Yes," he said without shame.
"Because the gods refused to do their own work."
"And now mortals rot beneath your desks."
"Not rot," the god corrected.
"Develop character."
Yue whispered to Ne Job, "That is what we call 'the lie management tells itself to sleep.'"
---
3. The Tome Becomes Hungry
Ne Job held the Tome of Omni-000 like someone clutching a newborn dragon. The pages pulsed beneath his fingers, reacting to emotion.
UNVERIFIED STATEMENTS PERSIST.
REQUESTING ADDITIONAL TESTIMONY.
"No."
He pressed the cover closed.
YOU ARE BEHIND SCHEDULE.
"I don't CARE about the schedule!"
The tome flared with red ink.
NON-COMPLIANCE DETECTED.
COMMENCING PENALTY ENFORCEMENT.
The page edges lengthened like teeth.
Ne Job screamed and hurled the tome to the floor.
Bao whispered, horrified:
"The book is carnivorous now."
Princess Ling kicked it.
"Somebody microwave it."
The tome growled.
---
4. Memory Audit
Tegarchiel thrust his pen-spear into the air. The courtroom vanished.
Suddenly—
—Ne Job stood in a smaller, dingier Bureau lobby.
He recognized the peeling paint. The broken reception bell.
He recognized the smell of ramen spilled in secret.
It was… the Bureau as it had been years before he arrived.
A younger Tegarchiel stood at a wooden desk, scrolling through infinite requests.
His mortal body hunched, shoulders shaking.
Papers towered beside him like tombstones.
Bao gasped.
"Why is he human and sad? That was me last week."
Ling frowned.
"This is… his past?"
Yue nodded grimly.
"Memory audit. Angels weaponize trauma."
Ne Job watched Tegarchiel stamping form after form with trembling hands.
"I didn't have wings," the Angel said.
"I didn't have power. I had deadlines."
He raised his hand.
"You know what Heaven called this phase of my life?"
The scene froze, his mortal self mid-stamp.
Tegarchiel's voice curdled:
"Training."
---
5. Ne Job Tries to Help (Badly)
Something twisted inside Ne Job.
He walked up to the younger Tegarchiel.
"Hey. Um. I know what it's like to be in a job that hates you."
The actual Angel snarled.
"You know NOTHING."
Ne Job lifted his hands defensively.
"I get yelled at, thrown into hell portals, blamed for everything—"
"Because you are incompetent."
"That is not entirely proven!"
Tegarchiel advanced, voice icy:
"You get privileges. Chaos. Accidents. Charm. Interference. You survive by making a mess."
He spread his wings.
"I survived by cleaning everyone else's."
Ne Job stared at the piles of forms.
Every signature was flawless.
Every stamp perfect.
Every paragraph justified.
And nobody had thanked him.
Not once.
His chest tightened.
"…That," he whispered, "is worse."
The room quivered.
The younger Tegarchiel slowly looked up from the desk.
And whispered:
"Am I doing enough?"
The Angel froze.
---
6. The Tome Answers Instead
The Tome of Omni-000 reappeared, floating like a vulture.
NO.
The courtroom shattered back into existence.
The tome hovered above them, pages spread wide like wings of accusation.
YOU ARE NOT DOING ENOUGH.
YOU HAVE NEVER DONE ENOUGH.
YOU WILL NEVER DO ENOUGH.
Ne Job lunged.
"STOP TALKING TO HIM LIKE THAT!"
The tome ignored him.
YOU ARE AN INTERN.
YOU ARE REPLACEABLE.
Something inside Tegarchiel exploded.
A burst of paperwork tore the air apart, ripping the marble into ribbons.
His wings expanded—no longer neat ledgers, but jagged pages with scorched margins.
He roared:
"I AM NOT REPLACEABLE!"
---
7. The Bureau Answers
The Forgotten God rose, dripping ink.
"No," he said.
Ink spiraled outward in a tidal wave, forming billowing banners of bureaucratic calligraphy.
"I made you irreplaceable."
He pointed his pen at Ne Job.
"And I made him unpredictable."
The Angel halted mid-charge.
"…Why?"
The god's eyes were ancient and tired.
"Because every machine needs two gears:
one perfect,
one chaotic."
Ne Job blinked.
"Wait am I a gear?"
"An unstable gear," Yue clarified.
"A sabotage gear," Ling added.
"A spicy gear," Bao nodded.
---
8. Paper Monsters
The tome snapped itself open.
SECTION THREE:
DISASTER CATALOG
Pages tore free, twisting into monstrous origami:
Tax Serpents
Liability Golems
Audit Wraiths
A terrifying crawling creature labeled: FORM REJECTION NOTICE: 17C
The last one hissed in legalese.
Princess Ling shrieked and kicked it.
Her sandal bounced off with a metallic PING.
"WHY'S IT ARMORED IN RULES?!"
---
9. Ink vs. Paper
The Forgotten God swung his pen-staff, releasing a flood of ink that drowned the Serpents. They dissolved, becoming harmless scraps.
Bao hurled noodle broth at the Audit Wraiths. It worked disturbingly well—the spirits boiled under the chili oil.
Princess Ling screamed and choke-slammed a Golem with influencer fury.
Yue stepped past Ne Job.
She inhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
Then she unleashed the black folder.
The Nexus Record unfolded like a crack in the universe:
Tegarchiel's evaluations
His unpaid overtime
His intern feedback forms marked "IGNORED"
Every file ripped through the air like bullets.
The Angel reeled.
---
10. Ne Job Does the Stupid Thing
The tome fluttered before Ne Job, hungry, wanting a final answer.
DECLARE ROOT CAUSE.
IDENTIFY PRIMARY LIABILITY.
NAME THE SOURCE OF ALL BUREAU FAILURE.
Everyone looked at him.
Even the monsters paused.
Ne Job swallowed.
He knew the real answers: Heaven. The gods. The bureaucracy itself.
He also knew one thing:
The tome wanted the truth.
So he gave it something worse.
He wrote:
THE FAILURE IS MINE.
I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY.
The Tome shrieked.
The pages spasmed.
The courtroom shook.
INVALID INPUT.
TARGET IS INTERN.
TARGET HAS NO AGENCY.
Ne Job grinned.
"Exactly."
---
11. The Loophole
Yue gasped.
"Oh… gods."
Bao dropped his noodles.
Ling's mouth hung open.
The Forgotten God stared.
Tegarchiel trembled.
"You—"
His voice cracked.
"You made it blame no one."
Ne Job raised the tome like a shield.
"No supervisor.
No god.
No angel.
Just the intern."
The book warbled like a dying fax machine.
ERROR.
ACCOUNTABILITY CANNOT BE ASSIGNED.
ESCALATING—
It petrified mid-sentence.
The Tome of Omni-000 crashed to the floor.
Dead.
---
12. Silence
Ink rain pattered across the marble.
Tegarchiel collapsed to his knees.
He wasn't angelic.
He wasn't divine.
He was just a former intern staring at the sky he'd escaped.
"…You broke it," he whispered.
Ne Job nodded shakily.
"Yeah."
Tegarchiel blinked at him.
"Why?"
Ne Job looked at the shattered tome.
"At the Bureau, if something wants to kill you…
you confuse it until it can't."
Yue put a hand over her face.
"That is… depressingly accurate."
---
13. The War Isn't Over
The Forgotten God staggered forward.
"It is done."
Tegarchiel wiped his eyes.
"No," he said softly.
"It's not."
He pointed upward.
Through the cracked heavens came a new light.
Not gold.
Not white.
Black-ink darkness.
A voice descended from above:
"THIS AUDIT HAS BEEN ESCALATED
TO DIVINE SUPERVISION."
Ne Job swallowed.
Yue whispered, horrified:
"Upper management."
---