I looked at her. Then at the coffee mug full of damned tears.
But last week, a new intern arrived. A dryad. Bright eyes. Hopeful. She asked me for advice. You Can-t Corrupt Me- -Tale of the Naive Elven ...
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. I looked at her
I stood up. I pulled off my lanyard.
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.” A dryad