Underworld Customer Service: Patch the Way of Heaven

After I died, I didn't get out of the frying pan or go up to the mountain of knives - I was assigned to the customer service department of the underworld, job number 404. There was an old notebook in the desk drawer that no one knew who had left it. This place has a constant temperature of 19 degrees, cold white lamps, seven reception windows, and dead souls queuing up to call. It looks exactly like the operation and maintenance backend when I was alive. It turns out that obsession is a bug, resolution is a custom order, merit is a KPI, becoming a full-time employee requires approval, and even overtime work has a year-end promotion. I plan to use debug thinking to do this job clearly: taking orders, positioning, repairing, and closing orders, and never be emotional - being emotional will deduct performance. But I slowly discovered that the system itself had bugs. It will kill people who don't deserve to die, stuff unresolved obsessions into "closed cases", and the same word will appear repeatedly in the work order notes late at night: mending the sky. And I, a person who doesn't even have a heart, seem to be born to do this.