Chapter 55 – Paper Gods and Hidden Agendas
The Bureau of Divine Administration was unusually quiet that morning—too quiet, as if the whole department were holding its breath. Even the floating memos in the corridor seemed to glide more cautiously, aware that something big had happened the night before.
Ne Job slumped into his seat, still half-asleep, his head buried in a pile of "urgent" paperwork that had multiplied overnight. "Why does this department breed paper like rabbits?" he mumbled.
Assistant Yue didn't respond. She was staring at her teacup, her usual calm expression replaced with a storm behind her eyes. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the cup—uncharacteristic for someone who'd once defused a celestial riot with a single bureaucratic form.
Ne Job noticed. "Uh… Yue? You okay? You look like someone just downgraded your divine rank."
She exhaled slowly, setting her cup down. "Ne Job… do you remember what you saw last night?"
He froze. The image of the hidden archive flashed in his mind—the one he'd stumbled into while chasing a rogue memo. The forbidden chamber filled with sealed scrolls and floating runes that pulsed like hearts. At its center stood Lord Xian, and before him—a figure bound in crimson light, whispering in a voice that made even gods tremble.
"I… might've seen something I shouldn't have," Ne Job admitted carefully.
Yue turned toward him, her expression sharp. "You weren't supposed to be anywhere near that level of clearance."
"I got lost! The memo dragged me there! Besides, who locks a forbidden chamber with a sticky note saying 'Do Not Enter—Especially Interns'? That's like begging me to look!"
Yue massaged her temples. "You truly have a death wish."
But beneath her scolding tone was something else—worry. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Listen carefully. What you saw… it wasn't just a secret file. That being bound—wasn't a spirit. It was a Shard God. One of the original enforcers from the Heavenly Reformation War."
Ne Job blinked. "Wait, you mean like… the ancient kind? Those who enforced divine law when gods went rogue?"
"Yes." Her eyes darkened. "And the fact that Lord Xian is conversing with one in secret means something far more dangerous than paperwork conspiracies."
Before Ne Job could reply, the office door burst open. Dreivery Spirit Bao stumbled in, panting. "Urgent memo! Straight from the Shard Court!"
A glowing letter fluttered into the air, sealing itself with a blinding sigil before unfolding in front of them. The script burned in divine ink:
> "Effective immediately: All records of the Forbidden Manual Incident are to be archived under Lord Xian's direct authority.
Any personnel with unauthorized knowledge will undergo memory audit.
Signed: The Shard Court Judge."
Ne Job's stomach dropped. "Memory audit? As in—mind erasure?"
Yue's jaw tightened. "Yes. And they'll start with witnesses. Which means…"
"Us," Ne Job finished.
For a long moment, the two stared at each other across the cluttered desk, the weight of divine politics pressing between them. Then Yue stood up abruptly, pulling a glowing seal from her sleeve.
"We don't have much time. Follow me."
They slipped out of the office, moving through the labyrinth of halls that only Yue seemed to know. Behind them, the lights dimmed one by one as if the building itself were censoring their existence.
They reached a maintenance chamber hidden behind a tapestry. Yue pressed the seal to the wall—an invisible doorway shimmered open. Inside was a dimly lit sanctum filled with scrolls, maps, and old divine emblems.
Ne Job gawked. "Whoa, you have a secret base?! Assistant Yue, are you… moonlighting as a rebel archivist?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out a dusty ledger and flipped it open to a page marked Project: Rebirth Directive.
"Lord Xian isn't just maintaining the Bureau," Yue said grimly. "He's rewriting the celestial order itself. The Shard God you saw—he's one of the architects of that rewrite. And if we don't stop him, every god and mortal will be judged by an algorithm of divine law."
Ne Job scratched his head. "So basically… heaven's turning into a cosmic HR department run by AI?"
"Exactly."
For once, Ne Job's grin faded. "Then what do we do?"
Yue looked at him, a flicker of determination burning in her gaze. "We find proof. Before the Shard Court wipes our memories."
Suddenly, a cold voice echoed from the doorway.
"You won't get the chance."
They turned. Standing there, half-shrouded in shadow, was Lord Bureaucrat Xian himself. His expression was calm, almost amused—but his eyes glowed faintly, reflecting divine power restrained by human form.
"Assistant Yue. Intern Ne Job. You've seen too much."
Ne Job gulped. "Oh, come on—can't we, like, file an appeal first?"
Lord Xian raised a hand. "No paperwork can save you now."
As divine sigils formed around him, Yue whispered sharply, "Ne Job—when I say run, you run."
"But—"
"RUN!"
The next instant, light exploded through the sanctum as divine energy clashed against rebellion.
And in that flash, the Bureau's quiet morning shattered into chaos.