Fuck. Not again. This falling feeling. My eyes snapped open, but the Royal Palace was nowhere to be found. Instead, a gritty reality pressed in – the echoing chill of a metro tunnel. A worn canvas bag rested heavily on my shoulders. My gaze fell to the back of my hand, where cryptic instructions were scrawled in what looked like my own handwriting: Follow the way.

With a sigh of reluctant acceptance, I began to walk deeper into the tunnel's gloom. The tracks gleamed dully in the scant light filtering from some unseen source. As instructed, I ran my fingers along the damp, uneven brick wall until a loose stone gave way. Behind it, a rough-hewn hatch lay concealed. I pried it open, revealing a dark, narrow shaft descending into the earth. Gritting my teeth, I squeezed through the opening and found myself in a claustrophobic corridor. The corridor eventually opened into a small, dimly lit chamber dominated by a rickety-looking elevator. The button for the lowest level beckoned, and with a hesitant breath, I pressed it. The ancient machinery groaned to life, and I began my descent into the unknown depths.

Stepping out of the creaking elevator, the scene that unfolded before me stole the very air from my lungs. It was an enormous, subterranean command center, carved entirely from gleaming white marble, an incongruous touch of elegance in this hidden underworld. Rows upon rows of desks stretched into the dimly lit distance, each occupied by focused figures bathed in the ethereal glow of countless monitors.

The fuck? What in the deepest circles of hell were these people doing down here?

A man, approached me with an unsettlingly polite smile. “Mr. Everett,” he said, his voice smooth and devoid of inflection. Everett. My surname. The one I hadn't heard addressed to me in months. Ugh. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly where this bizarre dream was headed. I followed the impeccably dressed man, weaving through the silent, focused activity of the command center, the hum of the technology a constant backdrop to my growing unease. We entered another, equally sterile corridor, the marble walls echoing our footsteps.

The man stopped before a set of sleek, obsidian doors. He placed his palm on a discreet reader, and with a soft hiss, the doors slid open, revealing the room beyond. He gestured with a silent, almost deferential sweep of his hand, inviting me to enter. Gods. Had I somehow stumbled into a bizarre amalgamation of every spy thriller I'd ever half-watched while nursing a hangover? I stepped inside, and there he was. Levi. Immaculate in a black suit that seemed to sharpen his already defined features, seated behind a large, uncluttered desk. His gaze met mine, cool and detached, as if I were merely another file that had just landed on his pristine surface.

“Please, Mr. Everett,” Levi said, his voice smooth, devoid of any personal inflection. He gestured towards the sleek, black armchair positioned in front of his imposing desk. I sat, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. This detached professionalism was unnerving. “You requested my services regarding your ongoing dispute with your talent agency. As per our initial agreement, I have compiled the relevant data pertaining to your case.” He retrieved a slim file from a drawer that seemed to glide open and shut with silent precision.

The fuck? My brow furrowed in utter bewilderment. I had absolutely no recollection of requesting anything from this detached, businesslike version of Levi. Yet, here I was. With a growing sense of unease, I opened it and began to leaf through the contents.

The documents contained a series of photographs. Candid shots of me going about my daily life: grabbing a coffee at a café, laughing with friends in the park, jogging. Some were even taken on set, during filming.

The hell? Dream Raphael, you absolute idiot. Did you actually hire dream-Levi for… this? What in the name of all that is holy was your reasoning?

“Uhm… right. Yes, of course,” I stammered. “So… how do we proceed from here? What’s the next step?”

“The course of action is entirely your prerogative, Mr. Everett,” Levi stated. “You could certainly utilize this compiled data to demonstrate the fabricated nature of the scandal your agency has been disseminating. Pursuing legal action is an option, though a firm of their stature undoubtedly possesses a formidable legal team, making a decisive victory… unlikely.” He paused, and I caught a subtle shift in his demeanor. A glint, almost predatory, flickered in his cool eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he leaned forward slightly. “However,” he continued, his voice dropping a register, “there are… other avenues. Shall we, perhaps, consider dismantling that opulent skyscraper of theirs? For once and for all?”

Okay, dream-Levi is definitely channeling waking-Levi now.

“And just how does one go about ‘dismantling a skyscraper,’ Mr. Blake?”

“Oh?” A genuine spark of something akin to delight ignited in his eyes, momentarily eclipsing the detached professionalism. “That, Mr. Everett, is the most elementary aspect of the operation.” He reached out and casually pressed a button on his sleek desk. Instead of another obsidian file appearing, however, the wall behind him shimmered and dissolved, revealing itself to be a colossal, high-resolution screen. A rapid succession of images began to flash across its surface. My breath hitched. They were photographs of my colleagues, actors and actresses I knew, all signed to the same talent agency.

“These,” Levi explained, his voice now carrying a low, almost seductive cadence, “are individuals whom your esteemed agency has… shall we say… mishandled over the years. Each one, in their own time, found their way to my… unique consultancy. I offered them solutions, discreet resolutions to their grievances with the agency. And yet,” he gestured to the flashing images on the screen, a hint of theatrical disappointment in his tone, “here we are. I confess, my recent endeavors have lacked a certain… spark. Instead of tedious legal proceedings and mountains of paperwork, Mr. Everett, wouldn’t you agree that a more… memorable approach is in order? Perhaps… a glorious inferno of consequence?”

To go from a mundane legal dispute to… burning it all down. It’s insane. Utterly, deliciously insane. And that seductive cadence in his voice… damn him.

“Alright, Blake,” I said, a strange sense of reckless abandon washing over me. Dream logic, perhaps. Or maybe just the intoxicating pull of dream-Levi's dark charisma. “Let’s do it. Let’s watch their empire burn. An inferno.”

I could practically hear the satisfaction radiating off him, a silent, feline purr of triumph. “Are you quite certain of this course of action, Mr. Everett?”

“Yes, Blake. Go on.”

Levi’s gaze intensified, a potent cocktail of pride and something thrillingly dangerous swirling in his eyes. “Very well, Mr. Everett,” he murmured, his voice a low, silken warning. “No takebacks.”

I just agreed to… what exactly? Orchestrate the downfall of my talent agency with dream-Levi and a bunch of disgruntled actors?

Levi’s finger hovered over the button on his desk for a moment, a dramatic pause that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. He pressed it again. The image on the colossal screen shifted, resolving into a surprisingly detailed view of my talent agency’s towering skyscraper, its many windows reflecting the city lights like a thousand watchful eyes. Hm. What was the point of this visual? A virtual tour before the… metaphorical demolition? I had absolutely no idea what he was planning.

Levi pressed the intercom button on his desk. His voice, when it filled the silent command center, was low and resonant, carrying an undeniable weight of authority. He released the button and lifted his gaze to meet mine, a dark, almost possessive intensity burning in his eyes.

My breath hitched as I stared at the image on the screen. A deafening roar, seemed to shake the very foundations of the command center. A monstrous orange bloom erupted from the middle floors of the skyscraper, glass shattering outwards in a deadly rain. Bombing. Holy shit. Levi had actually done it. He must have planted explosives. And his earlier words echoed in my mind: "No takebacks." Shit. Dream-Levi, you absolute maniac. The skyscraper was engulfed in flames, an inferno of destruction consuming the once-imposing structure. The heat seemed to radiate even through the screen.

“What the actual fuck did you just do?” I demanded, my voice a hoarse whisper of disbelief and horror.

Levi tilted his head, a hint of mild disappointment in his expression as he watched the fiery display on the screen. “Nothing particularly elaborate, Mr. Everett. Merely a strategically placed series of small explosives along the building’s primary support columns. Although,” he mused, a critical frown creasing his brow, “I must confess, I was anticipating a slightly more… comprehensive result. A complete and utter abolition of the structure, perhaps.”

“Shit…”

Levi’s gaze remained fixed on me, a thoughtful expression replacing his earlier excitement. “Hm… Fascinating. I must admit, I was anticipating a slightly more… visceral reaction. Perhaps some screaming, a display of shock. Instead, I am met with… a rather intense form of silent contemplation.”

I'm beyond screaming. I'm in that frozen state of disbelief where my brain hasn't quite caught up with the sheer insanity of what I'm seeing.

Well, congratulations, Levi. You’ve successfully horrified me in my own dream.

Villain Levi began to snap his fingers. It was a peculiar habit, one that struck me as distinctly un-Levi. My Levi possessed many remarkable qualities, but a sense of rhythm was most certainly not among them. He was utterly tone-deaf. This Villain Levi, however, watched me with an intense gaze, his expression a dangerous enigma that I couldn't begin to unravel. What was he expecting? Approval? Horror? Or something else entirely?

The rhythmic snapping of Villain Levi’s fingers intensified, each click echoing like the ticking of a doomsday clock. It felt like a glimpse into a facet of Levi I had never truly confronted.

If the world were ablaze, he’d claimed, he would feel nothing. And here it was. He was feeling nothing. Utterly, completely nothing. With a casual press of a button, he had likely extinguished thousands of lives, and yet, his expression remained devoid of any discernible emotion. No triumph, no remorse, not even a flicker of satisfaction. Just emptiness.

“You… do not feel… anything?” I managed to choke out, the horror still constricting my throat.

“No,” Villain Levi stated simply, the sharp snap of his fingers punctuating his one-word answer.

“H-How…” I stammered, the question barely a whisper.

“I was born like this,” Villain Levi replied, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. Another sharp snap of his fingers echoed in the vast chamber. “This utter lack of feeling.”

“But… that’s not entirely true,” I argued, a desperate need to reconcile this entity with the man I loved rising within me. “You do feel things, sometimes. You get annoyed, frustrated. And I’ve seen sadness in your eyes. You yourself described my feelings as a vibrant rainbow, and yours as… a thick fog. Or… you said mine were like a clear glass of water, and yours were like tiny drops in an empty glass.”

Villain Levi tilted his head, considering my words with a detached curiosity. “Hm. An apt analogy, I concede. Although,” he mused, his gaze drifting back to the fiery image on the screen, “my own internal landscape is perhaps an even thicker fog than I previously conveyed. Impenetrable, even to myself.”

Somehow, that void is infinitely more terrifying than any darkness I could have imagined.

“But there has to be something,” I pleaded, a desperate hope clinging to my voice. “Something beyond this… void. Please, tell me you feel something…”

Villain Levi turned his gaze back to me, his expression utterly impassive. “Hm?” he murmured, a slight tilt to his head, as if considering a particularly uninteresting puzzle.

“No. I do not.”

The finality in his voice was like a death knell.

Villain Levi rose from his desk. “Allow me to offer a small demonstration, if you will.” He picked up a letter opener from his desk. He drew the blade across his left elbow, creating a thin line that welled with blood. His face remained completely impassive, not a flicker of pain or discomfort registering in his eyes. It was as if he were testing the sharpness of the blade rather than inflicting injury upon himself.

What am I seeing? What is this? My stomach is churning.

“A simple rush of endorphins,” Villain Levi stated matter-of-factly, his gaze still fixed on the thin line of blood welling on his arm. “A purely chemical reaction. Nothing more.”

Endorphins… Levi, in the depths of his despair, during that terrible time… he had broken his own fingers right in front of me.

“It’s just… stimuli,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. 'Responding to stimuli,' he'd say. It always felt so cold, so clinical to me, stripping away the very essence of what it meant to feel. But now… staring at the blood welling on Villain Levi's arm, his utterly vacant expression… if there truly is no feeling, then what else could it be? Just a rush of blood, a surge of hormones, firing neurons… simply reacting to stimuli in a meaningless, empty void.

“Precisely, Mr. Everett,” Levi confirmed, his voice flat. “The physical vessel responds to stimulus, a purely biological imperative. But the mind…” he paused, a chillingly vacant look in his eyes, “the mind remains utterly disconnected. A silent observer, registering data without interpretation, without feeling.”

Like a machine. That’s what he’s saying. How can someone live like that? It’s like the very core of him is missing. And the thought that this… this could be a part of the man I love, a hidden void… it’s like a cold hand gripping my heart.

“Interesting,” Villain Levi mused. “Are you feeling… sadness? For me?”

“Yes,” I choked out, the tears finally spilling over. “For you… and even for myself. Thinking how… this exists within you. This… complete absence.”

But. But. But. My Levi was different.

“Hm…” Villain Levi mused, tilting his head as he observed the tears in my eyes. “You… are experiencing sadness on my behalf, despite my recent act of… demolition? A rather curious notion.” He walked towards me, his movements still fluid and unnervingly graceful. He casually wiped the blood from his elbow with his fingers, then, he reached out and smeared the crimson stain across my cheek.

It was as if he were marking me in some perverse baptism. He dragged his bloodied finger down my cheek, his gaze intense as he leaned in close, his face just inches from mine. “What a beautifully juxtaposed image you present, Mr. Everett,” he murmured, a sudden glint in his otherwise cold eyes. “A face sculpted by the Gods themselves, like a breathing marble statue.”

Ah. That was it. My Levi’s peculiar fascination. Me, amidst chaos, stained with crimson. Juxtaposition.

“Smearing your blood across my face… what was the purpose of that, exactly?”

“Nothing too elaborate, Mr. Everett,” Villain Levi purred, leaning in closer. “You see, individuals of my… disposition… we often possess certain… tendencies. Manipulation, intricate calculations, a penchant for… unconventional solutions. Tell me, Mr. Everett,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “are you acquainted with the… other one?”

“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered, a fresh wave of unease washing over me. “Tell me…”

Villain Levi's breath ghosted across my ear. A shiver of revulsion and a strange, unwanted thrill ran down my spine as he licked the ridge of my ear.

“It is obsession, Mr. Everett.”

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My blood froze. Levi had talked about obsession before. He had been adamant, though, after much introspection, that it wasn't obsession he felt for me. But this Levi…

“It’s not every day I encounter an anomaly as utterly baffling as you are, Mr. Everett. All the time I dedicated to collecting those photographic records of you, each and every captured image became indelibly etched onto my eyelids. Every single time I blinked, it was your face I saw.”

That's… deeply unsettling. My Levi… he can be intense, possessive even, but this… this is a different level.

“Hm, still harboring doubts, Mr. Everett?” Villain Levi mused, a hint of something akin to amusement flickering in his otherwise cold eyes. He casually hopped onto the edge of his desk. “Very well, then. Perhaps another… demonstration is in order. Go on, Mr. Everett. To the door. Try to run away.”

“You’re just going to… lock me in here? Is that it?”

“I already have.”

Oh… No. My Levi… he would never do this. We had even joked about it. I had teasingly told him he could chain my ankle, and he had recoiled, saying he would much rather dedicate his considerable resources to building an entire town, 'Raphaelville,' so that I would be surrounded by people who cared for me, rather than isolated.

“Please…” I whispered, the bravado dissolving into raw fear. “Please… just let me go.”

“Hm… I rather suspect, Mr. Everett,” he murmured, his voice soft, “that you possess no true comprehension of the term ‘obsession’.”

He resumed his finger snapping. “Let us dispense with the clinical analysis for a moment,” he said, his voice hypnotic. “Let us speak plainly. There is an undeniable, tangible part of my being that desires you to become the very core of my existence. It is an addiction, Mr. Everett. A thirst, constantly demanding to be quenched. Ah, the countless images of you that have played within the confines of my mind, endlessly, relentlessly replaying to the point where the basic necessity of sustenance has been utterly forgotten.” He reached out, his long pointer finger firmly tilting my jaw upwards, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. “I wish to possess you, Mr. Everett. Entirely.”

He wants to own me? This isn’t even lust. My Levi… he’s intense, yes, but there’s always a playful light in his eyes, a hint of teasing.

I made a small movement, trying to shift my weight, but Villain Levi’s grip tightened. He cupped my entire cheek, holding my face captive.

“You possess no inkling, no comprehension whatsoever, of the profound effect you have had upon me,” he hissed, his voice low and intense. “It is so utterly overpowering, so distracting, that I am reduced to a state of perpetual exhaustion. You mistake this for something as pedestrian as ‘love’? No, no, Mr. Everett. This is something far more profound, far more… detrimental. You have made me… lose

myself entirely.”

He sounds like I’m some kind of virus, infecting his very being. This isn’t about me at all, is it? It’s about some void inside him that he thinks I can fill.

“Get your hands off my face,” I demanded.

Villain Levi’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing his impassive features. “Hm… Interesting,” he murmured. Abruptly, his grip tightened, his long nails digging sharply into my cheek. A gasp of pain escaped my lips.

“Shh… Calm yourself, Mr. Everett, calm,” he soothed. “Now… it is simply you and me. And nothing else matters.”

“This… this will not help you,” I whispered, the pain in my cheek making it hard to breathe. “Please… just let me go.”

“You think I want this, Mr. Everett? This… this feeling that has branded itself onto my very being? It is like being consumed by an addiction, a relentless craving. Do you know why that building did not collapse entirely, why it still stands as a smoldering ruin? Because I made a miscalculation! I! I made a fundamental error… because my mind was incessantly replaying images of you, distracting me from the task at hand!”

So, this isn't about wanting me, not really. It's about this… this addiction he can't control. He's trapped by it, just as I'm trapped by him. And that makes him even more dangerous. A cornered animal, lashing out at the source of its pain.

“Look… just… tell me what you want, okay?” I pleaded, my voice strained, the pain in my jaw and cheek throbbing. “You’re hurting me.”

“So?” Villain Levi sneered, his eyes flashing. “As if your discomfort holds any significance whatsoever!” Abruptly, he shoved my head back against the hard armrest of the chair. A sharp, jarring pain shot through the back of my skull. “Shit…” I gasped, stars dancing in my vision.

“What then, you asshole! Are you just going to torture me endlessly?” I roared. “Are you going to kill me or something? Then just do it! End this fucking nightmare!”

Villain Levi paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered my outburst. “Kill you, Mr. Everett?” he mused aloud. “Let me contemplate that… Hm… Hm... Ah, no. That would not serve my purpose. I must wait… until this… obsession has run its full course.” A patient smile touched his lips.

“Wait? For what? Like a fever to burn itself out, or… something?”

“Precisely,” Villain Levi purred, his gaze fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. “What a truly fascinating creature you are. Even after I resorted to physical violence, confined you against your will, and openly contemplated extinguishing your existence, your first instinct is to attempt to understand my motivations. Ah, my subconscious mind, in its infinite wisdom, certainly selected the most… intriguing subject for this… obsession.”

That's not a compliment; it's a threat. It means he sees this obsession as some inevitable, almost fated thing.

“You are repulsive,” I spat. “Either have the courage to end this now, or just leave me the hell alone.”

“Ah,” he purred. “While I find myself… unable to grant your request for a swift demise just yet, I can certainly address your… propensity for flight. How about I simply break your ankles? Just a clean snap on each, rendering those tiny little frantic thoughts of escape… rather impractical.” He leaned in, his gaze intense. “And let me be perfectly clear, my dear Mr. Everett. Attempt to flee, and I will not hesitate to eradicate every single inhabitant of this nation. You have already witnessed a fraction of my capabilities. Such an undertaking would merely require a touch of logistical planning. Nothing, of course, as significant as you.”

Run, and everyone dies. Stay, and… and what? Become the object of his twisted, endless fascination?

There was no reaching him, no bridge across this chasm of madness.

“Then tell me,” I asked, laced with a desperate need to understand. “What is the source of this… this fixation? Is it affection? Attraction? What is it?”

Villain Levi considered my question, a strange light playing in his eyes. “Hm… Affection? I believe my previous actions have made it rather clear that such a sentiment is… absent. But attraction? Yes. Indeed, that might serve as a… rudimentary descriptor. Let us call it attraction. A powerful, all-consuming attraction.”

It's not attraction; it's a parasitic need. He's drawn to me like a moth to a flame, but he doesn't want to admire the light; he wants to consume it. He sees a strong pull, I feel the jaws of a monster closing around me.

“You don’t see a light to cherish. You see a light, and your instinct is to extinguish it.”

Now I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, the potential for darkness that could exist within Levi. And yet, paradoxically, I also understood, better than ever, that his feelings for me were not born of obsession.

“Gods, you’ve become dreadfully predictable, haven’t you?” he scoffed, a hint of boredom lacing his tone. “Calling me the villain? Such a simplistic, unimaginative label. Please, in my extensive experience, I’ve acquired a far more colorful and varied collection of epithets. And, I must confess, none of them were entirely inaccurate.” He cupped my face once more, gently this time. “Hm… You do possess a remarkably comforting and… dare I say… angelic countenance, Mr. Everett.” He released my face with a theatrical flourish, a strange expression flickering across his features. “I might even find myself experiencing a modicum of… ‘regret’ for the minor discomfort I have inflicted upon it.”

“You are incapable of genuine remorse,” I stated flatly.

“Ah, but my dear,” he purred, his gaze lingering on the marks his nails had left on my cheek. “My… ‘remorse,’ as you so astutely perceived, had little to do with your discomfort. No, my mild lament stemmed from the aesthetic imperfection. A blemish upon such a… pleasing canvas. Though,” he mused, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing light, “now that you mention it… perhaps the addition of further… ‘marks’ might prove to be… rather enjoyable.”

He regretted marring my face, not the pain he inflicted. Disgusting. Utterly disgusting. Did he truly believe he owned me? He might be a madman, lost in his twisted obsession, but a cold fury began to simmer within me, eclipsing some of the fear. I was worse than him? Perhaps. A desperate, primal rage propelled me. I surged up from the armchair, my hands fisting in his collar.

“Let me go,” I snarled.

A slow smile spread across Villain Levi’s face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Of course, Mr. Everett.” .

In the blink of an eye, his fingers like steel manacles clamped around my wrist. A sharp pain shot up my arm, and a strangled cry escaped my lips.

“I had intended to be… merciful,” Villain Levi stated, as he tightened his grip on my wrist, “to offer you some palliative care after I severed your tendons. A small gesture of… consideration. However,” he sneered, his gaze sweeping over my defiant face, “you do not strike me as deserving of such leniency.” With a sudden shove, he sent me sprawling backwards. My breath left my lungs in a whoosh as I landed hard on my back, the impact jarring every bone in my body.

“Perhaps a few… fractured ribs would better convey the profound depths of my displeasure, Mr. Everett,” he mused. He then placed his foot squarely on my chest, the pressure sending a searing pain through my torso.

“You…” I gasped out, each word a painful effort against the weight on my chest. “You… are not even… a sadist…”

“Precisely,” Villain Levi confirmed, his voice utterly flat. “I experience no surge of gratification as your bones succumb to the pressure beneath my foot. It is a purely… pragmatic measure. A means to an end.” He amplified the pressure. A wet pop – my rib splintered like kindling under his heel.

He pressure on my chest lifted, only to be replaced by a weight pressing down on my face. The leather of his shoe dug into my cheek and jaw, obscuring my vision.

“Focus, Mr. Everett, will you?” Villain Levi said, his voice laced with impatience. “We have matters to attend to.”

“Fuck… what… are… you…” I choked out, the words a strangled rasp.

Villain Levi lifted his foot, the sudden release of pressure almost making me black out.

“Will you be a good boy now, Mr. Everett?” he asked, his voice devoid of any warmth or genuine inquiry. I thrashed my head weakly from side to side, a silent but vehement refusal.

“Good enough,” he murmured, a chillingly satisfied tone in his voice. The relief was short-lived as his shoe now pressed down on my crotch. This wasn't the playful, teasing dominance the real Levi sometimes indulged in. This was a forceful pressure, a violation that sent a fresh wave of nausea and fear coursing through me.

He amplified the pressure on my groin, a searing pain that made me clench my legs together, a pathetic attempt at self-preservation.

“A little more persuasion is required, I suppose,” Villain Levi said, as he lifted his foot. The brief respite was welcome, but the pressure returned, even greater this time, a crushing agony that stole my breath and made me see stars. Shit! Fuck!

“Stop! Fine! Just… stop!” I screamed, each word torn from my raw throat. But his expression remained impassive, and the crushing pressure on my groin only amplified.

“Are you quite certain, Mr. Everett?”

“Yes! Stop it! Please, just stop!” I shrieked again, the plea echoing in the space. Finally, with a disconcerting slowness, he lifted his foot completely. I lay on the cold floor, curled in on myself, my groin throbbing with an unbearable pain, the sharp ache in my chest a constant reminder of his earlier assault. And his blood… his blood was still smeared across my cheek.

Was this my subconscious mind dredging up some twisted form of retribution? Was this my Levi's delayed payback for those fractured ribs three months ago? He had been strangely nonchalant about it at the time, merely mentioning that he was a patient man, waiting for the opportune moment. Was this his opportune moment? Damn it. What the hell was wrong with my brain? Why would it conjure such a brutal, violating scenario? I mean, even Regal Levi, in his own bizarre way, had morphed into some kind of tender, albeit surreal, wet dream. But this? Was some dark corner of my psyche craving brutal dominance? Was this some perverse manifestation of guilt or fear?

Was this nightmare a perverse reflection of some hidden masochistic fantasy, amplified and distorted into something truly terrifying? Did the "maso pig" in me somehow conjure this "brutal asshole" as a twisted fulfillment? What dark corners of my mind were at play here?

The asshole version of Levi, his face a mask of cold indifference, clamped his hand around my collar as I lay helpless on the floor. He dragged me roughly across the cold surface, the fabric biting into my throat. Then, with a brutal yank, he hauled me upwards, the strain on my neck excruciating, until I was forced into a sitting position on the armchair.

Gods… the indignity, the pain, the utter lack of care.

“Mr. Everett,” the Levi-like figure said. “Are we in an… understanding now?”

“Never,” I spat.

“Excellent,” Villain Levi purred. This time, his fingers like iron bands clamped around my throat. The air was instantly cut off, and panic flared.

“I will not kill you, Mr. Everett. Not yet. Let us consider this a… trust-building exercise. Attempt to breathe, I assure you, it will be… remarkably uncomfortable.” His grip tightened, and my vision began to swim.

Fucking bastard.

My vision swam, the edges blurring into encroaching darkness. Was I actually going to die within the confines of my own subconscious?

Just as the darkness threatened to consume me entirely, a resonant voice cut through. “Raphael.” Ah… thank God. It was Levi. My Levi. The sound of his voice, even disembodied, was a lifeline in this terrifying abyss.

...

With a jarring lurch, I was awake. My body was slick with cold sweat, every muscle tense and trembling. Levi was leaning over me, his brows furrowed in that familiar way.

“I think you might have had a bout of sleep paralysis, Raphael.”

Yeah, right. More like a sleep paralysis demon who looked like him choked me, hurled me around like a ragdoll, fractured my ribs, and tried to crush my groin. My Levi had absolutely no idea just how much those simple words, meant to me right now.

“Shit…” I gasped, my voice still raspy and trembling. “That was… an actual… nightmare…”

Levi, ever attuned to my distress, silently filled a glass of water from the bedside table and offered it to me. I noticed the faint light filtering through the curtains; it was already the early morning. I snatched the glass and drank deeply. Some of it spilled down my chin, a shudder ran through me.

“Oh, my dear,” Levi murmured, and he reached out to stroke my hair. “Did you have a nightmare? Would you like to talk about it?”

Taking a deep breath, I began to recount every single detail of the dream, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Dearest,” he murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble, “it’s alright now. That was just a nightmare, dear.”

“Shit…” I breathed, the lingering fear still clinging to me like a shroud. “It felt so incredibly vivid…”

Levi’s hand stilled in my hair, and he looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “I have read some academic papers regarding obsessive tendencies in romantic relationships, but I can assure you, Raphael, that is not what I feel for you. What binds us is a deep and abiding attachment, a connection of souls, if you will. Although,” he added, “I cannot entirely deny the existence of a… mild possessiveness. It stems from the profound value I place upon you.”

"Thanks for saying that, Levi. It does help." I took a shaky breath. "But... why that nightmare? What do you think it meant?"

Levi considered my question, his gaze thoughtful. “Hm… I would surmise that my… occasional dabbling in theatrical villainy might have unearthed some deep-seated anxieties within you, my dear. Perhaps a subconscious fear that one day I might cross a line from which there is no return.” He paused, his eyes searching mine. “I would also venture to guess that you were perhaps scared that my feelings for you were merely based on a simple, base desire, lacking the deeper connection we share. Do either of those possibilities resonate with you?”

“Fuck…” I breathed, a mixture of shock and reluctant understanding washing over me. “How can you… connect the dots like that? What the hell?”

Levi offered a small smile. “My dear, in my lifelong endeavor to understand the intricacies of my own neurodivergence, I have immersed myself in a considerable amount of psychological literature. Therefore, I possess a foundational understanding of the workings of the subconscious mind.” He then took my hand, his gaze earnest. “Now, allow me to address your unspoken fears directly. Firstly, I have never, in my rather eventful life, outright murdered anyone. My most morally ambiguous action, as you well know, involved a strategic alteration of medication for certain… already expiring nobles. Secondly, if my attachment to you were purely based on physical desire, do you honestly believe that a man of my considerable ego and self-regard would have pursued you with such unwavering determination after you abandoned me, not once, but twice? Please, my dear, afford me a modicum of credit.”

He squeezed my hand. “Let me offer you another perspective. We fight, we argue, and on occasion, things become rather heated, with insults exchanged – primarily from your end, I might add, though I am not entirely blameless. Does this dynamic strike you as indicative of me treating you as a mere pet or possession? No, my dear. We engage in these conflicts precisely because we are striving to build something meaningful and lasting. We argue to understand each other on a deeper, more profound level, to navigate the complexities of our bond with honesty and authenticity.”

I launched myself onto his lap, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder. “Asshole,” I mumbled into his skin. “What do you mean, insults mostly from me?”

“Precisely this, dear,” Levi chuckled.

I pulled back slightly, grinning. “I love you. So much. And I think my subconscious already took your revenge for you, for me breaking your ribs.”

“Hm… I wouldn’t characterize it as my revenge, no,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he squeezed my back. “But since you are being exceptionally amusing this morning, I shall forgo any… immediate retribution.”

“Damn, Levi,” I said, a sudden realization dawning. “I should have just talked to you about my other dream earlier. Fifteen minutes, and we’ve pretty much solved it.”

“Indeed, my dear,” he agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Although, I must confess, my own dream of us being villainous husbands likely differs rather significantly from yours.”

“No, no more dream analysis for now, I’m officially done with dreamland,” I declared, a weary sigh escaping my lips. “I just woke up, and honestly, I feel like I’ve just run a full-blown marathon.”

Levi nuzzled his nose against my shoulder, inhaling deeply. “Despite your marathon of the mind, you still smell remarkably nice, my dear.”