You Can-t Corrupt Me- -tale Of The Naive Elven ... -

“It’s dark roast,” Malaxus replied. “Drink.”

He handed me the logs. Then he whispered, “Page forty-two has a loophole that lets you keep 5% of the profits for yourself. I didn’t tell you that.”

That is the terrible part of the tale. I stayed. Not because I was evil, but because I realized that true corruption isn’t a lightning bolt. It is a warm desk. A supportive team. A chance to do “a little bad” so you can do “a lot of good.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, kneeling. (Mistake one.) You Can-t Corrupt Me- -Tale of the Naive Elven ...

“They had a hostile work environment,” I said. “I was protecting the interns.”

I took the logs. I did not report the loophole.

Today, I am Director of Regional Suffering. I still wear my mother’s silver circlet. I still hum elven fishing songs in the elevator. “It’s dark roast,” Malaxus replied

Malachar leaned close. His breath smelled of burnt 401(k)s. “You are doing evil while believing it is good . That is not purity, little sprout. That is middle management.”

“The elf,” he rumbled. “The pure one. Tell me, child, how does it feel to be our most effective employee?”

“Don’t,” I said. “Run.”

I had not been corrupted by gold, or power, or lust. I had been corrupted by efficiency . By the small, daily choice to look the other way for the sake of “team cohesion.” By the hug that earned a demon’s trust, then exploited it.

Stage four: The cycle continues. No one falls from a great height. We step down, one stair at a time, convinced we are just going to the lobby.