Hell's Overworked Employee

My name is Heba. I'm 1,324 years old, male, unmarried, and after five hundred years of overtime, I still don't have a place of my own.

I work on the border of Hell City, from morning till night. Every day, my routine consists of assassinations, massacres, and experiments. I have to work 22 hours, then rest for two.

For some reason, I smoke, drink, and stay up late, yet the company doctor says I'm in great health and can work another 500 years.

Of course, none of that is the point. Today, I finally got a new job, one that would let me escape those 500 years of unpaid overtime and 22-hour workdays!

"Senior, you can't rest yet! There are still about 1,324 targets on the list that need to be taken care of!"

Looking at the list in his assistant's hands, which seemed about as long as his own lifespan, Heba became utterly resigned.

"I guess this is what they mean by digging your own grave..."

He'd only just escaped the torment of 500 years of overtime, and now he'd fallen into the hell of overtime with no end in sight... I don't want this!

(The more you complain, the more motivated the author gets!)