Donut looted something unusual from one of the bodies. A pamphlet entitled Rev-Up. Make Money. Be Your Own Boss. Move to the next floor down. It didn’t appear to be magical. It was just a regular, trifold pamphlet. “Let me see it,” I said. The colorful front showed a group of three, laughing, female clurichauns holding jugs of the moonshine. Several little phrases covered the pamphlet, written in Syndicate Standard. Things like “You’re the Boss Now” and “Your own hours” and “It’s not a pyramid!” and “Safe!*”
