My muscular intern wanted to gamble in the prediction market. I refused. “Damian, prediction markets are built on financial capitalism and the weaknesses of human nature.” I slapped him instead, like a Tintin slap. He looked bewildered. Then, something shocking happened. My live-in partner’s boyfriend, Jdn, taught him how to open an account and even gave him start-up capital. “Thank you, Uncle Jdn,” my muscular intern said, his eyes gleaming with a wicked light. I pulled my partner aside. “He’s undermining our values and shaking my authority as the only morally corrupt person here.” She muttered, “At least he lets him play like a real adult.” That night, while my intern slept, I logged into his account. I closed all his positions and then shut down the account. The money? Gone. Then I gave him the lesson he deserved—another slap—and a lecture on Asian values and how to control emotions in volatile markets. He woke up to find his account gone and nearly cried. I smiled and said, “You’ve finally shaken off your financial illusions.” He started trembling and cried even harder. A good mentor doesn’t teach your muscle-bound intern how to win, but how not to be too happy. One day, when he too becomes a morally tormented Asian, he’ll thank me.