1. The Appeals Department Is Worse Than Death (Objectively)
The corridor to the Appeals Department did not exist until Ne Job noticed it.
That was the second worst sign of the day.
It unfolded sideways between two shelves, squeezing reality like an embarrassed accordion. The sign above it flickered between three fonts:
APPEALS
APPEALS (TEMPORARY)
APPEALS (PLEASE DON'T)
Ne Job stared.
"…Why does it look apologetic?"
Yue answered without slowing. "Because it was added after the system realized it had made mistakes."
Ne Job brightened. "Oh! So it's hopeful?"
Yue shot him a look. "No. It's resentful."
Qi-Yun followed behind them, hands folded behind his back.
"The Appeals Department exists to prove the system was technically correct," he said. "Not morally correct."
Ne Job frowned. "That feels… illegal."
Qi-Yun nodded. "It predates illegality."
They stepped inside.
The door sealed behind them with a sound like a stamp slamming down too hard.
2. Infinite Desks, Zero Eye Contact
The Appeals Hall stretched forever.
Rows upon rows of desks floated in orderly grids. Each desk was staffed by a translucent clerk who looked permanently exhausted and deeply offended by existence.
Nobody looked up.
Nobody spoke.
Paper drifted like snow.
A bell rang somewhere, endlessly.
Ne Job whispered, "…Are they alive?"
Yue whispered back, "Barely."
A clerk suddenly appeared inches from Ne Job's face.
"FORM?"
Ne Job screamed.
"I—WHAT FORM?"
The clerk thrust a scroll into his arms.
APPEAL REQUEST: FORM 88-Ω
Reason for Appeal: __________________
Emotional Justification: (Optional, Discouraged)
Ne Job stared. "Why is emotional justification discouraged?"
The clerk leaned in. "Because it slows processing."
Yue grabbed the form. "We're not appealing a verdict. We're here under observation."
The clerk froze.
"…Observation?"
Qi-Yun stepped forward. "Yes."
The clerk hissed.
The desk dissolved instantly.
A bell rang louder.
Somewhere, someone muttered, "Oh no."
3. Fine Print Starts Moving (That's Bad)
The hall reacted.
Text crawled across the walls, rearranging itself mid-sentence.
NOTICE:
Active Variable detected.
Appeals jurisdiction unclear.
Initiating Cross-Reference Panic.
Ne Job squinted. "…Is the building panicking?"
"Yes," Yue said. "And it's contagious."
A second clerk appeared. Then a third. Then twelve.
All speaking at once.
"UNCLASSIFIED—"
"NO PRECEDENT—"
"WHO SIGNED OFF—"
"WHY IS HE STILL HERE—"
Ne Job raised a hand weakly. "Hi. Intern."
That was a mistake.
Every clerk turned toward him simultaneously.
Qi-Yun placed himself slightly in front of Ne Job. "Careful."
A senior clerk emerged—solid, older, wearing a sash labeled APPEALS OVERSIGHT.
They adjusted their glasses.
"…You're the one."
Ne Job sighed. "I get that a lot."
4. The Question Nobody Likes Answering
The Oversight Clerk circled Ne Job slowly.
"You force context where none is required," they said. "You slow rulings. You complicate outcomes."
Ne Job nodded. "Yeah. I do that."
Yue tensed.
"That is not acceptable behavior," the clerk continued.
Ne Job looked up.
"…Then why hasn't anyone stopped me?"
Silence.
The clerk froze mid-step.
Qi-Yun smiled faintly.
Ne Job pressed on, voice trembling but firm.
"Every time someone tries, the system checks itself first. And then it hesitates."
The walls flickered.
The clerk's pen snapped in half.
"That is not how authority works."
Ne Job shook his head.
"Then why does it keep asking me questions instead of deleting me?"
The hall went quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
5. Heaven's Oldest Loophole
Qi-Yun spoke.
"The fine print," he said calmly, "states that a system capable of doubt must account for contradiction."
The Oversight Clerk turned sharply.
"That clause was deprecated!"
Qi-Yun's eyes hardened. "It was never removed."
The text on the walls began highlighting itself.
Clause 0-A:
Any system that encounters an unresolved contradiction
must delay final judgment until context is resolved.
Ne Job blinked. "…I'm a contradiction?"
Yue exhaled. "You're a walking one."
The clerk clenched their fists.
"You are abusing a philosophical safeguard."
Ne Job tilted his head. "…So the system put in a safety feature and now regrets it?"
Qi-Yun nodded. "Yes."
Ne Job shrugged. "Sounds like a 'them' problem."
6. The Appeal That Wasn't Filed
The hall trembled.
A massive stamp materialized overhead:
FINAL REVIEW
The Oversight Clerk raised their hand.
"Enough. We escalate."
Yue's heart dropped. "To who?"
The lights dimmed.
A presence descended—not loud, not violent, but absolute.
Every clerk bowed instantly.
Even Qi-Yun straightened.
Ne Job swallowed. "…Uh oh."
A voice spoke from everywhere and nowhere.
"Active Variable."
Ne Job winced. "Hi…?"
"You did not file an appeal."
"No," Ne Job said quickly. "I try to avoid paperwork."
A pause.
"And yet you are changing outcomes."
Ne Job nodded. "Accidentally. Mostly."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Why?"
Ne Job thought.
Really thought.
"Because people keep getting hurt by rules that stopped making sense," he said softly. "And no one reads the fine print anymore."
Silence.
Then—
"…Noted."
The stamp vanished.
The presence withdrew.
7. Aftermath (Nobody Wins, Which Is Progress)
The Appeals Hall stabilized.
Clerks returned to their desks, shaken.
The Oversight Clerk stepped back, pale.
"…The clause stands," they said bitterly. "Until context is resolved."
Qi-Yun bowed once. "Thank you."
The clerk glared at Ne Job. "You are a delay. A risk. A liability."
Ne Job nodded. "Yeah. But I'm not wrong."
The clerk hated that.
8. Leaving the Department
The exit appeared mercifully fast.
As they stepped out, Yue grabbed Ne Job's sleeve.
"Do you understand what you just did?"
Ne Job shrugged weakly. "I think I filed an appeal without filing an appeal."
Qi-Yun allowed himself a small smile.
"You reminded Heaven that its own rules can be used to protect people."
Ne Job blinked. "…Is that bad?"
Qi-Yun's smile faded.
"It will be," he said. "Once the wrong people notice."
Somewhere deep in the Archive, something ancient shifted.
Not to stop Ne Job.
But to prepare.
END OF CHAPTER 278