Kentaro stared at the enormous throne room, his brain still processing the absurdity of what was happening.
There he was, standing in a realm of fire and shadow, wearing a black robe adorned with glowing runes and sporting a pair of clawed hands.
Everything about his situation felt like a bad acid trip—except that, unfortunately, it was real.
Real, and he had no idea how to get out of it.
“HR.”
He muttered under his breath again, as if the word would somehow make it all make sense.
“This has to be some kind of joke. Some celestial prank…”
The demon bat-lizard hybrid named Balthazar who is apparently his secretary just stared at him with those glowing, unnerving eyes.
There was something about its calmness, its overwhelming presence, that made Kentaro’s inner cynic want to scream.
This was real.
He was stuck here.
And worst of all, he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do.
“Do I at least get a manual?”
Kentaro asked, his voice a mix of desperation and dry humor.
Balthazar’s grin widened, showing teeth that could put a chainsaw to shame.
“You’ll receive a few… documents.”
The demon said, flicking a clawed hand lazily in the air.
“They’re in a bit of a… custom format.”
Kentaro didn’t trust that tone.
“And by ‘custom,’ you mean—”
“Exactly.”
Balthazar interrupted.
“You’ll get the Employee Handbook, the Departmental Guidelines, and the HR Policy Binder—don’t forget the ‘Standard Torture Procedures for Internal Complaints.’ It’s a real page-turner.”
Kentaro’s face fell.
If there was anything worse than being stuck as an archdemon in Hell, it was being given a stack of HR forms to deal with in a world where “Death by PowerPoint” wasn’t just a metaphor.
“I… I don’t understand.”
Kentaro said, rubbing his temples, feeling the weight of his new reality crashing down on him.
“I’m the CEO of a whole dungeon conglomerate. Why am I starting with HR? Isn’t that for… well, people who know what they’re doing?”
“Oh, don’t worry.”
Balthazar said, almost as if Kentaro’s confusion amused him.
“You’ll get the hang of it. Plus, you’re so good at managing things… managing people, I mean. Just look at your track record! You handled all those minor complaints, complaints about food, complaints about breaks, complaints about your wardrobe, complaints about HR’s lack of action on complaints… You’re naturally suited for it.”
Kentaro winced.
“That… that’s not the same.”
“No? Well, we’ll see about that. Follow me.”
With that, Balthazar turned and began walking toward a massive archway that loomed ominously at the other end of the room.
Kentaro, reluctantly following, glanced at the throne—more accurately, the towering, black stone throne that had “evil corporate overlord” written all over it.
The massive room around him was vast, lit by flickering firelight and studded with strange obsidian structures.
It looked like something straight out of a high-budget, bad fantasy movie.
And yet, it was real.
“I take it this isn’t the company break room, huh?”
Kentaro asked dryly, trying to make the situation less suffocating.
Balthazar chuckled darkly.
“The break room? That’s in the War Division. Too loud for a proper nap. We like to keep things professional around here, and by professional, I mean… you’ll be signing your first set of contracts.”
Kentaro froze.
“Contracts? Already?”
“Oh yes.”
Balthazar replied, as they passed through the archway into what appeared to be a massive office space.
“Welcome to your new department. You’ll find the HR office is right here—no windows, of course. HR’s too important to have windows.”
The office was what Kentaro expected—cold, sterile, and somehow suffocating.
The walls were a dark, charred stone, the floor littered with blackened papers, and the desk, sitting in front of him, was a large slab of obsidian that gave off a faint glow, as if it were pulsing with some sort of malignant energy.
A few chairs sat around it, each one seemingly built for beings far larger than Kentaro’s current form.
He noticed a stack of forms piled on the desk, labeled with titles like: Minion Relocation Waivers, Battlefield Injury Claims (Zombies Only), Unholy Visitation Protocol, and something labeled ominously, Cursed Job Satisfaction Survey.
“What… are all these?”
Kentaro asked, a little unnerved as he scanned them.
“Oh, those are just your new responsibilities.”
Balthazar said casually.
“You’ll be handling complaints, disputes, performance reviews, and a few other odds and ends. You know, nothing too big. Just the usual paperwork for running a multi-dimensional, evil corporation.”
Kentaro sighed and sat down in the chair.
It was too big for him, his feet dangling off the ground.
“I swear to the gods, I would rather be fighting angels, battling heroes, or literally anything but this.”
He muttered, flipping through one of the forms.
Balthazar’s grin grew wider.
“You’ll learn to love it. The bureaucracy here is far more complicated than anything you’ve dealt with on Earth. But look at the bright side—at least you’re not in Marketing. They’d have you spinning propaganda and public relations pieces for demons who want to promote diversity in… er… torture methods. Not exactly your area of expertise, is it?”
Kentaro groaned.
“You’re not wrong there.”
“Right?”
Balthazar chuckled.
“But before you get too comfortable, let’s go over your first task.”
Kentaro, now thoroughly dreading whatever Balthazar would throw at him next, raised an eyebrow.
“First task? I’m already on edge, and you want me to dive into tasks?”
“Oh, it’s simple.”
Balthazar replied nonchalantly.
“It’s a grievance issue from the War Division. They’ve been filing complaints about the War Secretary being… inefficient.”
Kentaro blinked.
“A War Secretary? Seriously? What kind of corporate system are you running here?”
“A very efficient one.”
Balthazar said proudly.
“Now get to work! And remember, the key is efficiency. Handle the complaint, do your paperwork, and keep everything calm. You can’t have a workplace meltdown in a dungeon. Otherwise, the HR department looks bad.”
Kentaro didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.
He grabbed the nearest form and stared at the poorly written complaint about “unacceptable battle outcomes,” muttering to himself, “I’ve dealt with angry clients before, but this? This is something else entirely.”
Balthazar gave him a final pat on the back—or, well, a slap with a giant claw—and left the room.
Kentaro sat back in his oversized chair, trying to convince himself that this was just some bizarre dream, that it wasn’t happening, that he wasn’t really the HR manager in charge of demons and hellish bureaucracy.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
He wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon.