Some wallets don’t just hold money—they exist to serve. The ritual is simple: first, your submission is acknowledged. Every tribute sent, every obedient payment, is a step deeper into the ceremony. You don’t ask why—you follow the pattern. You prepare, you surrender, and you wait for instruction. The wallet isn’t passive; it’s an active participant in your own unlearning of control. Ritual isn’t punishment—it’s devotion. And yes, missing a step? That’s noticed. Missed payments, delayed gestures, forgotten attention—every slip reminds the wallet where it belongs: beneath the rules, beneath the expectations, fully tethered to the one who commands. Devotion, ritualized, becomes your identity.