At exactly 19:00 System Time, without a single tick's deviation, the brilliant lights of the Grand Banquet Hall dim in unison, yielding to a blinding golden aura that illuminates the central stage.

  To call this place a "room" is an insult to the Conglomerate's space-bending technology. This is essentially a colossal dimensional plane, vast enough that the horizon is merely a vague concept, specifically designed to contain the entire core personnel of all departments along with thousands of senior managers. The sea of people stretches endlessly, noisy and bustling like a galaxy throwing a festival.

  The initial boisterous scene gradually yields to a solemn silence as the Jade Emperor, the Supreme CEO, original Founder, and symbol of absolute power of The Jade Palace Conglomerate, solemnly steps onto the podium.

  Instead of donning the cumbersome ancient dragon robes seen in television dramas down in the lower realms, He wears a stylized divine outfit that carries an air of both antiquity and innovation. The suit is woven from the light of the stars, exuding an elegant, modern look while still maintaining an imposing aura that makes people hold their breath.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, associates, elite deities of The Jade Palace Conglomerate," His voice resonates warmly, clear in every ear without the need for a microphone.

  "Today, we gather here not only to raise a glass in celebration but to look back on a path full of thorns yet immensely glorious. According to the latest finalized financial report..." He pauses briefly, smiling with confidence. "...Our Conglomerate is currently managing a total of 1,708,932,014 departments monitoring realities. And I am incredibly proud to announce that 1.3 billion of them have reported positive net profits in the past quarter!"

  Thunderous applause erupts like a storm, shaking the entire dimensional space.

  "This is a highly promising business result, proving that our 'Sustainable Faith Mining' model is on the right track," the Jade Emperor continues, waving his hand to draw growth charts in mid-air. "But the Conglomerate does not stop there. In the next 5-year plan, the Board of Directors has approved a budget to invest in, acquire, and explore an additional 33,550,336 new worlds. We bring order, civilization, and most importantly, the brand of The Jade Palace Conglomerate to the farthest frontiers of the Multiverse!"

  Down below, in a small corner of that immense sea of personnel, I am enduring a drowsiness of cosmic proportions.

  The Jade Emperor's speech has dragged on into its 25th minute. Numbers in the billions and millions fly around in my head like buzzing flies, lulling my nerves to sleep with frightening efficiency. My eyelids feel heavy as if someone has hung weights on them, my head nodding along to the eloquent rhythm of the speech.

  "Wake up, Itsuki... You must not sleep..." I tell myself, sneaking a pinch on my thigh with my claw hard enough to hurt. "Be professional... The Jade Emperor is speaking..."

  I want to collapse on the table, curl my nine tails into a pillow, and sleep my sorrows away. But there is no way I dare to do that, not when Director Ariel is sitting right next to me.

  His glowing golden eyes focus intently on the stage, swallowing every golden word of the Jade Emperor with unconcealed admiration. His majestic lion mane occasionally vibrates with excitement every time he hears the words "growth" or "expansion."

  The killing intent (or perhaps excessive enthusiasm) radiating from Director Ariel creates an invisible pressure zone, pinning me to my chair. If I accidentally yawn or let my head drop past 45 degrees, I bet he turns around and throws me a look capable of incinerating my soul.

  "Almost done... Almost done..." I try to widen my smoky purple eyes, which are blurring from yawn-induced tears. "Just need him to say 'Thank you'..."

  "...And to conclude," the Jade Emperor's voice soars again, extinguishing my tiny hope, "I want to share more about the strategic vision regarding the restructuring of the human resources system..."

  Well, that is it. Another 15 minutes.

  "Thank you."

  As those two golden words escape the Jade Emperor's mouth, the entire dimensional space seems to burst. Not from emotion, but because the stomachs of billions of employees have been staging a protest for half an hour.

  The End-of-Quarter Summary Banquet, also known as the "All-Out Offerings Binge," officially begins.

  This is a rare occasion in the year when low-level employees like us are allowed access to the Nexus's most luxurious culinary treasure: pure Offerings. These are dishes containing the essence, reverence, and burning wishes of humanity from across all worlds.

  Naturally, to prevent the budget from being decimated by bottomless stomachs, the Organizing Committee has set a limit: each dish can only be ordered a maximum of three times. But looking at the endless menu scrolling on the hologram screen, spanning East to West, ancient to modern times, I bet that even eating for an entire lifetime would not be enough to taste it all.

  I glide my finger across the screen, my eyes shining like headlights.

  "Crispy-skin roast suckling pig from the Macao casino grand opening, Order placed!"

  "Aged wine from the Mass at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, Bring it on!"

  In the blink of an eye, an army of service robots rushes in, placing onto the table of Department 1031 plates of food that smell incredibly fragrant, radiating the sparkling aura of premium FP.

  While everyone is engrossed in delicacies, I remain loyal to a single dish.

  "One more plate of fried tofu!" I shout, wagging my tail in excitement.

  Fried tofu (Aburaage). A simple, common dish, but when offered at Shinto shrines, it carries an elegant, rich flavor that no meat can match. I pick up a piece of golden tofu, bite deep into it, and feel the sweetness of the soybeans and the warmth of the prayers melting in my mouth.

  "You are strange, senior Itsuki," Xiaolang wonders while munching on a chicken drumstick. "Why are you foxes so addicted to fried tofu? What is so good about it?"

  Nanao, elegantly tearing apart a grilled fish, shrugs. "I have no idea. It seems foxes have a genetic predisposition for this stuff, just like we cats go crazy for catnip. It is just species instinct."

  "Then does that mean..." Chen Jun, the deputy head of the security team, suddenly blurts out. "...Lord Inari is the same?"

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  The chopsticks in my hand freeze in mid-air. The piece of tofu I am holding falls straight into the bowl.

  The atmosphere around Team 7's table suddenly drops a beat.

  "Ah..." Chen Jun seems to realize he has misspoken. He scratches his head in embarrassment. "Did I... did I say something wrong?"

  I take a deep breath, pick up the piece of tofu, wave my hand, and laugh it off. "It is nothing. Just a normal question."

  But how can it be "nothing"?

  Inari, my former boss at Takama-ga-hara. The person who guided me from my very first stumbling steps into the Nexus.

  There is not exactly deep animosity or hatred between us. It is just that... there are a few old matters that still weigh on my mind.

  Just as the atmosphere is becoming awkward, a large shadow looms over our table.

  "Come on, comrades!"

  Director Ariel appears like a savior. In his hand is a jade jar of wine radiating a scent so strong that just smelling it makes one feel intoxicated.

  "We are not going home until we are drunk today!"

  He pours a full tankard, the clear liquid rippling with purple light, and pushes it forcefully toward me. His glowing golden eyes stare at me with hidden meaning: "If you do not drain this glass, you are disrespecting me."

  A mere glance reveals this is "Drunken Immortal Wine," an extremely potent celestial liquor distilled from stars, capable of knocking out even deities with the highest tolerance after just a few rounds.

  "Yes... please, boss..." I raise the glass with trembling hands.

  Zhen Shan sitting next to me does not escape his fate either. He accepts another brimming glass, his solemn tiger face now showing a hint of resignation.

  And so, the dining area of Department 1031 quickly turns into a battlefield of drunkards. My plan for a "classy dining experience" is completely bankrupt. Instead, Zhen Shan and I are transformed into two errand boys, tagging along behind Director Ariel all over the banquet hall.

  "Let's go, you two! Over to the Karma Management Department's table to toast the Southern Dipper! You have to network well for your promotion files to flow smoothly!" Ariel enthusiastically throws his arms around our shoulders, dragging us along.

  We have to smile, speak, and clink glasses with all sorts of deities from different departments. My head starts spinning, my legs getting tangled, and my fox tail wrapping messily around chair legs.

  While I am struggling to keep my stomach from turning inside out, a real battle is taking place in another corner of the table.

  Big Sis Alethea sits cool as a cucumber, legs crossed, hand gently swirling a glass of dark red wine. Surrounding her are a few burly muscular gods collapsing on the table, snoring or mumbling nonsense.

  Her latest opponent is a bearded Aesir god, Zhen Shan's subordinate in the security team, famous for drinking alcohol like water. But right now, the Viking is holding his head, his face red as a ripe gac fruit, hands trembling as he pushes the wine glass away.

  "I... I surrender..." He stammers after the seventh glass.

  "Weak," Alethea sneers, raising her glass and draining it in one breath without spilling a drop. Her emerald green eyes remain sharp, showing not a hint of intoxication. "Where is the next one? Bring more wine!"

  I shudder looking at that scene. Women truly are... the most terrifying creatures in the universe.

  As the "Drunken Immortal" alcohol begins to seep into every strand of fur, making the entire hall spin in a chaotic waltz, the program enters its most anticipated segment: The Lucky Draw.

  The stage lights shift to a brilliant golden tone, illuminating the items solemnly displayed on the high podium. All are things that would make any deity drool: A limited edition "Body Protection Dharma Treasure" forged by Hephaestus himself, three "Nine-Turn Golden Pills" from the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord that instantly boost divine cultivation, and the grand prize—the jewel in the crown—an all-inclusive 7-day, 6-night vacation at "Drifting Cloud Island," a super-VIP 6-star resort floating in the middle of the Zenith District.

  Ting!

  The Solak phones of billions of employees vibrate simultaneously. A lucky number appears on my screen, blinking invitingly: 142857.

  "Beautiful number," I mumble, trying to force my smoky purple eyes open despite the drunken haze. "One, Four, Two, Eight, Five, Seven. If this number does not win, then the heavens are blind."

  The program's MC, a Crane deity with a voice resonating like a bell, begins to call out names.

  "Consolation Prize... Number..."

  Silence fills the air. Then cheers erupt from the Weather Management Department's table. Missed.

  "Third Prize... Second Prize..."

  Still no one from Department 1031 wins. Our bad luck seems to haunt even this game of chance. I start getting impatient, my claws scratching on the white tablecloth.

  "And now..." The MC's voice rises dramatically. "The Grand Prize! The dream trip for the luckiest deity tonight! The number is..."

  My heart pounds like a war drum.

  "One... Four... Two..."

  "That is right!" I hold my breath, fox ears standing straight up.

  "...Eight... Five..."

  "Come out! Come out, destined number 7!" I scream silently in my head.

  "...SEVEN!"

  Time seems to stop. Hot blood rushes to my brain. I spring up like a coil, knocking my chair backward.

  "I WON!!!!"

  I scream, the sound tearing through the solemn atmosphere, echoing throughout the dimensional space. I jump onto the table, flailing my arms and legs, my fox tail spinning wildly.

  "HAHAHA! GOODBYE YOU MISERABLE LOT, I AM GOING ON VACATION!"

  Billions of eyes converge on Department 1031. The spotlight immediately shines directly on my grinning face.

  The MC on stage looks down blankly at the result paper, then at me, then back at the paper.

  "Excuse me... Sir," The MC says, voice slightly trembling. "The winning number is 14285... 1. Number 1, not 7."

  The smile on my lips suddenly stiffens. The wagging tail abruptly droops like a stale noodle.

  "Huh...?"

  I look down at my phone. 142857.

  I look up at the large screen on stage. 142851.

  Due to the alcohol, or perhaps some accursed Murphy's Law, my ears automatically filtered the sound and turned "One" into "Seven."

  The silence is absolute, enough to hear a cricket chirp. The embarrassment hits like a tsunami, drowning me in the abyss of humiliation.

  "Sit down, you are embarrassing the whole department," Alethea hisses through her teeth, loud enough for me to understand she wants to evaporate from here immediately. She covers her face with her hand, pretending to adjust her glasses.

  Zhen Shan is worse. He quietly swivels his chair to turn his back on me, picking up his wine glass and drinking calmly as if he has absolutely no acquaintance with the guy making a fool of himself on the table.

  I slowly, sluggishly slide down from the table, shrinking myself as small as possible, wishing I could vanish into thin air right at this moment.

  After that reluctant comedy act, the party reaches its conclusion with a traditional but no less important segment: Submitting feedback letters.

  It is called a "feedback box" to sound democratic and civilized, but in reality, this is the largest-scale legal bribery transit station in the Nexus. Everyone understands the unwritten rule: No opinion is heard unless accompanied by a heavy "token of appreciation."

  Representatives from departments line up one by one, everyone holding thick envelopes or cleverly camouflaged brocade boxes.

  I adjust my outfit, stepping up to represent Team 7. In my hand is a crimson envelope containing a shrunken winter wardrobe that I gritted my teeth to buy this morning (using funds donated by colleagues).

  "It is not much, but it is the heart that counts, hope the bosses accept it," I mutter the familiar mantra, then drop the envelope into the brilliant golden box placed before the statue of the Three Pure Ones.

  Right after me, Director Ariel also steps forward. He maintains the calm, dignified demeanor of a monarch. He drops an exquisite agarwood box, containing a Chinese chess set capable of cursing at players, into the box.

  He turns to me, giving a mischievous wink.

  I meet his gaze, flashing a smile like two accomplices.