#religious reader

Serving: A Deal With Death

Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of the Mostro Lounge, despised inefficient variables. By the time he was prepared to move forward with the Ramshackle Dorm acquisition, he had accounted for everything: the ghost problem, the structural integrity, and the Headmaster's ineptitude.

He had even accounted for the Prefect.

The Prefect had signed the most stringent, restrictive contract of his career, agreeing to the terms with a calm, unnerving confidence. There was only one stipulation the Prefect had insisted upon, and it was the only one Azul had not yet logically processed:

The Prefect's private room contains a "shrine" or "alter" that is not to be touched, moved, or disturbed by Octavinelle staff until the final phase of renovation begins.

Azul, ever the pragmatist, had agreed. But the curiosity festered.

His first encounter with the source of this contractual anomaly came during the moving part. Snooping into the prefect's private room to search for the final photographs, he found the place exactly as described. Dusty, sparse, but for one corner.

There, on a small table draped in cloth, was the "alter."

Azul stopped. He was a man of magic and science. He understood the divine nature of the Great Seven, but this was different.

He saw the effigy—a skeletal, regal figure draped in robes, holding a scythe. He saw the candles, the marigolds, the small dishes of candy and fruit. It was beautiful, elaborate, and alien. It did not fit any religious framework he had ever analyzed. It was clearly religious, yet the dominant figure was... Death itself.

He approached it slowly, adjusting his glasses. He read the air of devotion, noting the care taken with the placement of each offering. This was not a frivolous hobby; this was serious. Azul, ever concerned with power, was instantly intrigued. This figure, this "Santa Muerte," was clearly central to the Prefect's strength. He cataloged the encounter: "Anomaly. Source of Strength. Do Not Disturb. Investigate Further."

As the days turned into weeks, and Azul's fascination with the Prefect grew into a full-blown crush, his curiosity about the alter became the perfect vector for his romantic pursuit. He needed data, and he needed proximity.

His questions started tentatively, masked as "cultural analysis."

"Prefect, I have been reviewing our contractual agreement. The term 'Santa Muerte' requires a more complete definition for my records. Is this... a local deity? Is she a minor Fae Queen?"

The Prefect would simply smile, his eyes soft with a unique blend of faith and patience. He would explain, casually and openly. He spoke of folk saints, the unshakeable faith of his home, and the very human need to connect with the divine on a more accessible, non-judgmental level. He explained her nature: amoral, non-judgmental, and equal to all.

This utterly fascinated Azul. A powerful entity that explicitly rejects judgment and welcomes the marginalized? It was the perfect business model! But beyond the logic, it resonated with his own childhood insecurities—the desire to be accepted, flaws and all. He found himself spending hours in the library, attempting to cross-reference "Catholicism" and "Mexico" with the limited materials available.

He started framing his questions as requests for a "cultural exchange."

"Prefect, if I may be so bold, what is the protocol for 'offerings'? I find the ritualistic component highly engaging. As a purely academic exercise, of course."

The Reader would just laugh, his eyes shining with affection for his awkwardness, and patiently explain the significance of the candles, the water, and the different colored robes. Azul started leaving his own "offerings"—tiny, perfectly polished gold coins, not because he believed, but because he saw how happy it made the Reader. It was his unique, analytical form of devotion.

Azul's feelings for the Prefect reached a tipping point as the calendar approached All Saints Day, or Día de los Muertos. He saw the Prefect become particularly focused, working on the alter with immense care and preparing photographs of loved ones.

Azul was overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the tradition—an entire nation dedicating itself to welcoming the dead. He saw not a religious holiday, but an unexploited market demographic.

He cornered the Prefect in the Lounge, glasses gleaming with avarice.

"Prefect! I have had a brilliant breakthrough! This 'Día de los Muertos'—it is universally practiced, universally beloved, and not yet commercialized! We could offer an entire line of custom, miniature ofrendas! We could commercialize 'pan de muerto' for the masses! A 'Memento Mori' subscription box service!"

He stopped, beaming with pride at his genius. The Prefect, however, did not return his enthusiasm.

The air around the Prefect went cold. He didn't yell. He just slowly, deliberately set down the sugar skull they were holding.

You looked at Azul, your face etched with disappointment and a cold sadness that cut him deeper than any insult. You reached out, and with a surprising lack of gentleness, you bonked him hard on the head with the sugar skull (which, thankfully, was only light meringue).

"AZUL!" you hissed, your voice low and laced with anger. "You absolute idiot! This is not a business venture! This is sacred! This is welcoming back my family! You don't try to commercialize a religious holiday, you dishonor the dead! You do not touch this. You do not mock this. Ever."

Azul staggered back, his eyes wide. He was in shock. He was not used to being physically struck, nor was he used to being yelled at with such genuine, righteous fury. He looked at the Prefect's face—the anger was real, and it was aimed at him.

"I... I..." he stammered, rubbing his head. "I... I apologize. I... I did not mean to... dishonor."

"Then learn," you snapped, pointing to the alter. "She is the equalizer, Azul. The non-judgemental one. But I will judge you. And if you ever try to monetize something sacred, you will lose me."

Azul was silent. He looked from your furious face to the serene, skeletal figure on the alter. He finally understood: this was not a contract he could buy. This was faith.

Azul spent the rest of the day in profound, genuine repentance. He didn't come near the Lounge; he spent it in the library, reading anything he could find on the meaning of the holiday.

He returned to Ramshackle that night, bearing a small gift—a simple, elegant glass skull, which he presented to you, bowing his head.

"I apologize, [.....]," he said, his voice soft and stripped of all transactional polish. "I spoke from a place of greed, not respect. I misunderstood the value of the tradition. I have learned that some things... are beyond market price."

You smiled, your anger instantly melting away. You took the gift and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Azul. You learn fast."

The true resolution came the next day, Día de los Muertos. Azul stood quietly by the alter with you. You were explaining the photographs of your grandparents, your voice soft with love and memory.

Azul listened. He stood there, his glasses reflecting the candle flame, his usual composure traded for an intense, heartfelt respect.

When you were done, he reached into his pocket and placed a tiny, unpolished shell—a shell he had kept since he was a small, bullied mer-boy—at the foot of the altar. It was his most sincere, non-monetary offering.

"She accepts everyone, does she not?" he whispered.

"She does," you confirmed, your eyes soft.

"Then I ask only for her permission," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the figure. "Her permission to be the most devoted suitor for the one who worships her."

He then looked at you, his eyes filled with a love that was finally, truly, non-transactional.

"I love you, [....]. For your strength, for your mind, and for your heart. And if your faith is what keeps you anchored, then I will learn to love her too. No contract required."

A complex, rich, and truly unique "dish"! The kitchen is so honored to have served this Velvet Mousse with Berry Coulis to you.

Thank you, thank you, for such an inspired and educational order. We look forward to your next visit!

Chris understood that your belief is important and he also understood that you wanted to wait until marriage. However, your rejection made him feel like you didn’t trust him like he was just some of those guys who want to date a woman only for sex.

But that wasn’t Chris’ intention, at all. He truly loved you and cared for you, he just wanted to take the relationship to the next level, to show a new form of love, to prove how much you mean to him.

Chris wasn’t angry, he just wanted to understand, he needed to understand your thought process.

“Chris, we talked about this, in fact, I told you on our third date that I’m a virgin and I made a promise to God that I’ll wait until the right person comes and we are married. I just don’t want to give myself away like that. It doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you, I do…Just…I love you so much, and I want you to understand that I’d like to wait.” you could see it on his face that he still didn’t get it, maybe he never dated a woman before who said no to him? Did all his previous girlfriends just immediately jumped on him?

“Alright, okay. Okay, I get it, your religion and self-respect it a big part of you, and you made up your mind a long time ago that you’ll wait. I get it, really. But it doesn’t help me feel less…unloved. Like you don’t trust me, it’s like you think I’d run off.” he didn’t yell, neither did you, but this, this made you raise your voice.

“Unloved? You feel unloved. Are you fucking serious? After all, I have done for you? I moved in with you after only three months of dating, even though my family was against the idea. I cook for you, wash after you and take care of you. I come home from work, tired, and I wait until you come home even when you arrive late in the night. I cuddle you every. single. night. I wake up with you to make breakfast while you take a shower. I’d do anything for you because I fucking love you and you feel unloved because I asked you to wait for me?” you started crying by the end, and you didn’t even mind, you were so angry and hurt at the same time.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I should have said that I didn’t mean it…I was-“

“You know what? Fuck you! Like seriously, Chris. How fucking dare you? Next time you come home to warm fresh food and clean sheets maybe just but just maybe you’ll be able to feel loved.” you left him in the living room. You didn’t want to wait for his answer. He hurt your feelings.

Chris heard you as you went into the bedroom and shut the door behind yourself, Dodger went with you, the puppy didn’t even look at Chris while he left.

Chris knew that he shouldn’t have said that word, he didn’t mean it, just at that moment he said something incredibly stupid, he didn’t have any excuse.

He felt like the worst boyfriend, he tried to pressure you into giving in to him and he hurt you. He really was a jerk. Of course, he noticed and was incredibly grateful for what you do every day for him, and he has to realize that with how many things you do for him, he can surely do one thing for you. And if that meant the he has to wait, he will. He will suck it up, and get over it if he doesn’t want to lose you.

And now, his priority was to apologize and win your heart back.

He stood up from the couch let out a long sigh and brushed a hand through his hair.

You heard a knock on the door when you went up you picked up your book and started reading it, you didn’t want to think about the argument you just had.

“Babe, can I come in?” you heard Chris ask. But you didn’t answer him, you continued to read, or pretend to read while you petted Dodger on the head while both of you were in bed. Chris came in and sat by your leg. You knew that he would talk no matter if you paid attention to him or not, he just liked to let it off of his chest.

“Y/N, I’m so so sorry. I feel so bad that I hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that, and I realize it. I was a jerk. I feel so bad for pressuring you too. I know religion is very important to you and you always keep your promises. Honestly, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so afraid that I’ll lose you. Not only now, but maybe in the future, when you realize how much better you can do. I love you, that is why I thought that showing my love in a new way would be a great idea. But I promise you, I’ll wait for you, as long and you need me to. I’m sorry.”

By the time he finished you put your book down and moved closer to him, you gave him a hug which he really appreciated.

“Thank you. And you don’t need to worry, I won’t run off, I won’t leave unless you ask me to.”

“That will never happen.” he said as he hugged you tighter, you wanted him to let you go so you can give him a kiss, but he didn’t let go.

“You are also the best thing that ever happened to me.” you said when he finally let go and you could kiss him.

“Shhh! He might hear you!” you were confused. Did he mean Dodger?

“Who?” you asked whispering back.

“Him.” he said as he traced his finger on your small gold cross that hung around your neck, a present from your mother. Chris’ small joke made you laugh, and it reminded Chris how much he loved your laugh and how willing he was to wait for you, as long as he needed to.

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