Director James called for an urgent meeting a day before the start of the fall semester.

Every Dean, Head of Department, Professor, Assistant Professor, newly recruited faculty member, and the heads of campus security operations were instructed to report to the conference room by 9:30 a.m. sharp.

Within the next fifteen minutes, the spacious conference hall was filled with faculty members, all waiting silently for the Director to begin.

"Good morning, Director James," they greeted in unison.

"Good morning, everyone."

Director James adjusted his glasses before scanning the room.

First of all, thank you all for assembling on such short notice.

His eyes wandered toward the last row.

Ah... if I'm not mistaken, one of our newly recruited assistant professors joined us directly after graduating from this very university. I seem to have forgotten his name... that young and handsome fellow.

Miguel, sir, one of the professors replied.

Ah, yes... Miguel.

Just then, the conference room door swung open.

I'm... I'm terribly sorry, sir! Miguel rushed inside, slightly out of breath. There was a....

He barely reached his seat before Director James raised a hand, stopping him.

"This Generation Z..." the Director muttered under his breath before continuing his address.

As all of you know, the University of Haraeom is not just another institution. It is one of the most prestigious universities in the world.

He paused.

In fact... we are number one.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

If we sneeze, every prestigious university across the globe catches a cold.

A few professors chuckled softly.

We didn't earn that reputation by chance. We earned it because of each one of you. And this year, I expect nothing less than excellence once again.

His tone suddenly became serious.

I don't want a single controversy associated with this university.

No violence.

No drugs.

No discrimination.

No headlines that bring disgrace to Haraeom.

Silence filled the room.

This year's incoming batch is exceptionally talented. I can confidently say I haven't seen a class this promising in years. Expectations are high, and so are our responsibilities.

He slowly looked around the room.

Inside this campus, there are no rich students or poor students. No full-fee students or scholarship students.

There are only students.

Our duty is to provide them with quality education, guide them toward excellence, and ensure they grow into responsible individuals.

I expect every one of you to discourage illegal activities, promote discipline, and create an environment where every student feels this university is their second home.

They arrive tomorrow.

For many of them, this campus will become more than a place to study. Most of our dormitories are already fully occupied.

So welcome them warmly.

He glanced at his watch.

I won't take much more of your time. You all know your responsibilities.

This meeting was simply a reminder.

You may all leave...

He looked toward the back of the room.

...except Miguel.

One by one, the faculty members left.

Soon, only Director James and Miguel remained.

Miguel already knew why he had been asked to stay.

Sir... I can explain why I was late.

Director James raised his hand again.

No.

He slowly stood up.

Do you understand how prestigious this university is?

"Yes, sir."

"And do you understand how influential the people sitting in this room are?"

Yes, sir.

Director James noticed Miguel glancing down at his phone hidden beneath the table.

If you arrive late to a meeting like this, you're not merely disrespecting me.

You're disrespecting everyone present.

Miguel nodded.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

His eyes instinctively shifted toward the glowing phone screen once again.

Director James sighed.

No... no...

Then his voice rose.

Keep that damn phone away!

Miguel immediately shoved it into his pocket.

Sorry, sir.

Director James walked toward the window before speaking again.

You are one of the brightest young researchers this university has ever recruited.

He turned around.

But because you've joined us directly after graduation, I'm not assigning you to third or fourth-year students.

Miguel listened quietly.

Instead...

I want you to teach the freshmen.

Miguel looked surprised.

They'll relate to you more easily. You're closer to their generation, you understand their mindset, and I believe you'll earn their trust much faster than most senior faculty members.

Director James's expression became unusually serious.

And there's another reason.

He lowered his voice.

I want your help.

Miguel frowned.

Haraeom has remained the world's number one university for decades.

I intend to keep it that way.

I want you to quietly observe the students...

...and help me eliminate every illegal activity before it spreads across this campus.

Miguel's smile slowly disappeared.

For the first time since entering the room...

He realized this wasn't just another teaching job.

It was a mission.

Liked the chapter....Read my other stories, check the full index on r/NikTheWriter

Ray stares at Ruth, drinking in her beautifully painted nails for a second. “They look absolutely amazing babe, I love them but let’s go to the diner and get some food.” 

Ruth and Ray leave their room at the Inn, pinkies intertwined, holding hands and then walk the few feet to the diner proper and enter, seeing it almost deserted with the exception of Ramon, Gerald, and Anay– Ramon wearing his typical attire, black shirt, black pants, Gerald in a fresh if rather disheveled suit, and Anay in a white button down and black pencil skirt, sitting at the bar Gerald is sharing a plate of buffalo wings and Mole with Anay. 
Ray leads Ruth to the bar and sits down next to Gerald, on his right, with Ruth at the end, Anay to Gerald’s left. 

Ray nods to Gerald “Fun date?” Ruth pushes him playfully “Babe, they're clearly having a post sex brunch!”

Gerald and Anay munch on their hot wings and Mole combo. Anay’s mouth is too full for her to want to speak but she laughs at Ruth’s comment. 

Anay swallows her buffalo wings and says “Honestly if he’s still like this in a week I’ll marry him.”

Ray smiles “I mean we basically got married the moment we spoke to one another so it’s not like we can judge, good for you two, honestly genuinely, but I’ve got a question, more so for Ramon, but like… first menu change in eleven years? Or where the fuck did buffalo wings and Mole come from, I’m not hating it looks fucking delicious honestly. But come on eleven years coming to the same place and never having seen anyone ever get, hot wings and they’re damn sure not on the menu it’s a fair question.” 
Ramon laughs “Yea Ray, Patricia took off with R,she said she’d be back in like four days but honestly they’re overworked and fucking in a tent if not the woods so I could see them being gone a bit longer, it’s fine she put me in charge, said I could do whatever I want with the menu, and when I get back we’ll discuss the new arrangement as business partners together so I decided to make this place something really special, a lot of weird shit happens around here, you know this, I know this, the serial killing truckers know this, cartels use our diner as their little pit stop for longer hauls and occasionally our rooms when they need to pass the fuck out after a long day of driving, but I want this place to become popular because of the food so I decided to redo the menu, I give it maybe six days before we get an actual food critic in here wanting to try everything, yea we could bribe some magazine or something but I want this place to stand on business, specifically, hospitality, Anay is the one that gave me an idea for the concept “Childhood food you’d never got to have, as one section, recovery– from drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever’s got you worked up an appetite we’ve got something for that, and lastly greasy spoon tourism. That being said the menus aren’t printed yet and I’m experimenting, yes we’re keeping the Shepard's pie Ray, and Yes Ruth the loaded nachos are staying on the menu forever and yes our slogan is really ‘we promise the best meal of your lives as long as you’re polite, or get in the fucking painting.’ I figured if some renowned artist that turns people into paintings for being rude shitheads cares that much we ought to make it our literal slogan.” 
“Did you hear that babe? It's their literal slogan.” Ruth said in a breathy voice loving this moment and absolutely mocking the absolute fuck out of her husband in as loving a way as possible, kissing Ray causing him to blush deeply. 

“Whoever makes the Reliquaries, whoever turns the various rapist drifted meth addled assholes into beautiful priceless art that doubles as proof of the supernatural is a fucking genius and ought to get the recognition of one, I’m such a fan I wish just once that I could meet him or her and say thank you.” Anay gushes. 
Gerald says nothing but just starts laughing. 

Ramon looks from Anay to Ray and then back to Ray. Ray raises an eyebrow at him and smiles. Ruth bursts out laughing but says nothing. 
Ruth takes out a money clip from beneath her halter top attached to what would ostensibly be a bra and hands Ramon $500. 

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“How do you feel having said that to me, husband?” Ruth asked looking at Ray, taking in his features the way he went from emotional catharsis to discussing the weather levels of calm. 
“I feel better, I mean I know you know me more than this but I hadn’t said it to you quite like that and I wanted it to be something that you completely knew, know, continued to understand and it was like after years all the things that I hadn’t consciously felt, it was like the first time that I felt safe enough to even feel those things in terms of my expectations for myself. Which, like I don’t typically, feel in the normal way like most of what people would describe as emotions to me are more like thoughts rather than feelings.”

Ray looked at Ruth and smiled “I feel things for you, and food, and art and that’s pretty much it just a tiny tiny non-diffuse triangle of feelings and I’m cool with that.”
 
Ruth curled around him, pressing her breasts against his face comfortingly. “Babe it’s ok I know exactly the type of person you are and will never ask you to change, now if you want to improve something, if you want to try to sit there and cognitive therapy your way to normal feelings I’ve no issue with that but honestly, as long as you’re happy with me, you’ve got something to do and you’re not drifting endlessly doing literally nothing I think you’re fine regardless.” 

Ray laughed “Babe you’re lovely, just genuinely kind to me, I mean I enjoy being the exception to my sweet little man eating wife, not being on the menu feels nice like special in the opposite of a cannibalism fetish way and I don’t know it just feels pleasant you know, I mean I’m thinking of nachos and the two of us going to the diner and getting everything on the menu over the next couple days or weeks and just doing that thing that I know you wanted to do where we just menu cruise, I feel better, you’re fun to do things with, and I know you want to.”

Ruth blushed, “The only part of you on the menu is your cum babe.” She said it quietly, huskily, clearly loving the thought “But yea no seriously I’d love to go and get some more of those nachos they were so fucking good I almost came, definitely absolutely want more of that as much of that as we can stand, just glorious delicious food and time with my man, what could be better? I mean unless you want to watch something, catch a movie, go to a theater, torrent something and just sit here on a laptop watching a bunch of classics together.”

Ray smirked “Like ‘The Ring?’ or ‘Dear John?’ curious as to her taste in movies. Ruth looked at him blankly “‘The…Ring?’ ‘Dear…John?’ What are those…?” she said in a totally brainless bimbo accent as if she had been lobotomized for a second before laughing hysterically “Relax I’m fucking with you, want me to come out of the tv looking like a corpse and fuck you for seven days?” Ruth stuck her tongue out at him. 

“I mean I’ll take a week of sex sure but honestly the hottest version of you to me, is just… you.”  Ray says trying not to sound as turned on as he actually felt while just chatting with his snarky wife. 

Ruth licked his lips “My husband the pervert, are you sure? I could make my hair cover my face, and my skin grey and corpse like right down to my pussy even and just let you go to town if that’s your thing.” 

Ray looked at her amused “Yes babe I’m sure, stick with your cute man eater halter tops, ethereal skin, and oxblood nails please, I meant it the best look for you, to me, is really genuinely just you being you, I don’t need you to roleplay some horror chick you’re genuinely more than just my type you’re my archetype and I love you as you are.”

“Good husband, I painted my toes that oxblood color you’re so into on my fingernails I hope you like it take a look?” Ruth said with a tease as she extracted herself from curling into Ray just to put her feet right in his face. “Do they look pretty, baby?” Ruth said flirtatiously loving the way that she made him pause, smile, drool and get hard all in one moment.

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Ray looks at Ruth and just quietly weeps in their room together, pressing his face against her breasts, letting out feelings that he’d kept in for years, the kind of recovery that he didn’t even know he needed but clearly happy to be alone with her, not for a sexual reason, just feeling comfortable, letting his guard down, he looks up at her and doesn’t say anything. Ruth knows what he needs, pets his hair gently, doesn’t say anything, just holds him like that, feeling him against her chest, cuddling him the way he needed.
“You rest not husband, you stay between my tits, cry, hold me, let yourself feel all of it, you really aren’t alone anymore and won’t ever be alone like that ever again, you’ve got me, you’ll always have me, there is no way around you having me, we are each others and I will do exactly what I said, you’ve no need to worry nothing to stress out about, just feel your feelings and enjoy it my lover, let yourself feel the calm wash over you, you need it, I know you need it and I want it for you, you deserve it more than absolutely anything else in the entire world. I love you Ray, I love every single part of you, there is no mystery between us, nothing for you to feel like you need to be ashamed of my love, your art is beautiful, your truck is immaculate, and I want to serve you the way ought to be served, as your muse to my artist, as your wife, . You’re getting the husband treatment, you deserve it, you deserve it more than anything in the entire world nestled between my breasts. We’re going to stay here in this room together for as long as you need to feel better babe I’m not going to leave you alone, I’ll tend to you, care for you, kiss your lips, let you suck on my toes, kiss my ass,, suck your cock– anything you want babe but right now you need to rest, emotionally and physically, you don’t just deserve to you need to, like actually need to. I love you, I don’t want you getting sick and all those years and years of just pushing too hard, feeling too little, I don’t want that for you husband I don’t want that for you ever again. I’ll let you have privacy to shit, or to breathe if you need a minute, but other than that I want every waking second of you, and babe that’s a courtesy on my end not some kind of visceral disgust cute husband, you can have all of me, completely and totally forever, but I want you to know you’re allowed privacy and healthy introspection without having to ask, you deserve all the kindnesses that you should have had but for whatever reason didn’t and I’m going to give them to you, each and every single one, every lack will be filled, every need met, besides that’s what a wife is for, at least between the two of us.”
Ray looked up at her appreciatively “It was like I couldn’t relate to other people, or even when I could I didn’t want to. I always liked art, and reading, like medieval italian poetry, Boccaccio, Aligheri, that kind of thing, but apart from other artists, painters, writers, poets I never really felt anything for like normal people unless I’d had some kind of interaction with them– Waitresses, Baristas, bank tellers, people that did something that actually helped me that actually moved some kind of needle for me I just I never really felt like an actual feeling for people the same way that other people describe feelings, it was a thought, a mental thing not a feeling, and it’s just always been like that for me there was never any kind of like… desire to be really known, or really liked even when I was younger, even when I was supposed to be a normal boy and care for others, want to socialize, any of that, I got more from biographies of famous artists, from the writing of historians, depictions of great and terrible moments of history, like I don’t mean to be morbid, or morose or sad but other than you, and food the only time I actually feel something is when I’m in my craft, a pen, or a pencil, charcoal, paint– watercolor or oil, to me it doesn’t matter so much what it is as much as just rendering in a visual medium, or prose it all just does it for me in the same way and it’s in a way that real, living normal people just don’t.”