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

Stage one of corruption: Caffeine. My first assignment was merciful. “Go to the Ninth Circle,” Malaxus said, “and retrieve the ‘Infernal Just-in-Time Inventory Logs.’ Don’t make eye contact.”

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 did not believe them. I had read every treatise on moral philosophy in the Silver Library. I had resisted the urge to steal moonberries from the High Gardener’s private grove for three consecutive centuries. I was, in my own humble estimation, uncorruptible.

Today, I am Director of Regional Suffering. I still wear my mother’s silver circlet. I still hum elven fishing songs in the elevator. You Can-t Corrupt Me- -Tale of the Naive Elven ...

“I will not partake of suffering,” I said, chin high.

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

“You’re not like the others,” he said. Stage one of corruption: Caffeine

“You approved the liquidation of a rival firm’s pension fund yesterday.”

I should have run. Instead, I asked for a desk near a window. My mentor was a tiefling named Malaxus. He had horns that curled like a ram’s and the dead-eyed stare of someone who had sold his first soul for student loan forgiveness. He handed me a chipped mug.

Stage three: The rationalization that the end justifies the means. The CEO—Malachar himself, a being of smoke and deferred rage—summoned me. I had been corrupted by efficiency

I drank.

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