Good liars, the really really good ones, are no liars at all. They have the ability to transport themselves to alternate realities where the version of reality that suits their storyline is true, and it is them that's the truth-seeking fighter, against the rest of the fake loser world, they're the last shining beacons of honesty.
Raul didn't want to become a liar. He wasn't a liar, he wasn't dishonest, and he most certainly was not corrupt. He didn't have to be. His heart was pure, his intentions noble. It didn't hurt that his bank account -- in some form -- was overflowing. Not that it mattered, his wealth and its impact on his honesty was a side-effect. He'd have been as straight-edged anyway. He was out of savings from his banking days. He didn't complain. Because the money wasn't a loan to his future self that'd be repaid by stealing funds from the state or the people, it was a donation to the nation, to make it prosperous and established. With him as their leader, and other folks like him. He didn't mind at all.
It was unfair. They were crooked lying thieving bastards, who would stoop low enough to sell their own mothers at the drop of a feather. No morals at all, and it seemed -- he had come to the realization after many years of interacting with them -- they saw absolutely nothing wrong with their actions. Lying was no problem, that was what the people wanted, stealing funds was okay because it was considered a part of the remuneration pretty much. I didn't get into politics to become a saint, a close companion had told him, implying he had in other to enrich himself.
Raul sighed. Nothing would change with people like these. He would have to bring about the change. He was up to the task.
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