My muscle intern asked to gamble on a prediction market.

I said no.

“Damien, prediction markets are built on financial capitalism and human weakness.”

Instead, I gave him a Tintin slap.

He looked confused.

Then something shocking happened.

My cohab partner’s boyfriend Jdn taught him to open an account and gave him seed money.

“Thank you, uncle Jdn,” my muscle intern said, eyes sparkling with degeneracy.

I pulled my partner aside. “He’s undermining our values and my authority as the only ethical degen here.”

She mumbled: “At least he let him play like a real adult.”

That night, while my intern slept, I logged into his account.

I liquidated all his positions and closed it.

The money? Gone.

Then I gave him what he truly deserves, another Tintin slap and a lecture on Asian values and emotional control in volatile markets.

He woke up, saw the account gone, and almost cried.

I smiled: “You are free from financial illusions now.”

He started shaking and crying harder.

Being a good mentor isn’t teaching your muscle intern how to win, but how not to live too happily.

One day, when he too becomes a morally tortured Asian, he will thank me.