A week drifted by in the aftermath of the woods. I hired an acting coach, throwing myself into voice acting with a focused energy. Sundays became dedicated to the daunting but necessary journey of therapy. The guest bedroom transformed into my makeshift voice acting studio.

Meanwhile, Levi's days and nights were consumed within his study. He navigated the currency change with his usual sharp intellect, all while steering the ship of the upcoming national election. The sheer weight of his responsibilities crashed down on me with full force three weeks prior when I witnessed it, when Minister Shaw was addressing both critical issues on national television. It was a level of responsibility, pressure, and sheer intelligence that felt utterly beyond my grasp.

My voice acting journey, however, proved to be a welcome anchor. It was a genuine source of enjoyment and a burgeoning passion. No longer did I drift aimlessly through the house, haunted by the ghosts of my own actions.

Lost in the endless scroll of my phone screen, a calendar notification suddenly jolted me back to reality. Anniversary. A week later… our one-year anniversary. And… I hadn’t even given it a single thought. No gift prepared, no grand gesture planned… I was utterly clueless. What in the hell am I going to do?

Artisanal chocolate? Too… pedestrian. What about unearthing some obscure, long-forgotten astronomical text? Or perhaps a first edition of a chemistry treatise? No… while intellectually stimulating, those feel… detached. What else truly holds his interest, beyond the intricacies of politics and the thrill of revolution?

No, no, no… my mind is a complete and utter blank. I have absolutely no fucking idea. What am I going to give him? What can I possibly buy him that would even begin to measure up? This is a disaster.

I have to find something. And knowing Levi, he’ll likely have orchestrated some elaborate, thoughtful surprise for me.

I was rubbing my temples, trying to conjure an idea from the swirling chaos in my brain, any spark of inspiration, when Levi emerged from the shadowy depths of his study. He was clad in only his underwear and his favorite black silk robe, and he let out a long, frustrated groan that echoed the turmoil in my own mind.

“Gods… the logistics of this are a nightmare. Do I have to personally drive the trucks carrying the new currency myself?” he muttered under his breath. He then descended the stairs and headed straight for the kitchen, clink of the kettle signaling his intent to prepare hot chocolate. On a completely separate, and frankly still somewhat baffling note, Levi remained clean and sober. The "clean" part, was understandable. But "sober"? My mind still struggled to fully grasp it.

Then, the insistent buzz of Levi’s phone cut through. He answered it, his tone immediately sharp. “Stop screaming. Tell me, in coherent sentences, what is actually going on.” He listened for a tense beat longer, his brow furrowing. “Another riot? Gods… Another one? In the middle of this absolute chaos?” he groaned.

Shit… The currency change, the election… the man is juggling the fate of a nation, and now this? He sounds utterly exhausted. He's carrying the weight of the world, and I'm stressing over silk ties versus a rare book. I feel utterly useless. And selfish.

“I will personally handle the police response to this instance of brutality; under no circumstances are the troops to be deployed. Your immediate priority is to divert the crowd away from any historical buildings or significant shopping districts. We absolutely cannot allow any acts of vandalism to escalate into something larger…” He paused, listening intently. “No, I will oversee the stabilization of the market and the currency valuation myself. The gathering of citizens is not the primary concern; the potential for widespread damage is. Do not exceed your authority, and you are expressly forbidden from using plastic bullets to disperse the crowd. We cannot risk fostering further division amongst the populace with the upcoming election looming. Understood. Cease succumbing to fear for a single moment and act with precision.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. That’s exactly what I did in the woods. I succumbed to fear. And he… he’s the one who has to clean up the mess, both literally and figuratively.

“Wait… hold on… I have an idea brewing.” Levi’s brow furrowed in thought for a moment, then cleared. “Contact the labor union leader, yes, the one who recently launched his own political party. Get in touch with him immediately. Tell him to go to the site of the riot, gather his supporters from the union ranks – and knowing his penchant for opportune moments, he’s likely already in the vicinity. Instruct him to ensure the crowd remains stationary and peaceful; he possesses a certain… persuasive leadership style. This will not only contain the immediate situation but also provide him with invaluable visibility and garner further support for his fledgling party beyond the labor union itself.” He paused, listening to the response on the other end. “No, no need to fret about the distribution. As long as the main arteries remain open, we can proceed as planned. And if the riot simmers down within a few days, as the previous incidents have, we will navigate this without significant disruption.”

He's… using the riot again?

He ended the first call and immediately dialed another number. “Just like the last time, only shields are authorized, understood? Yes. No, absolutely do not attempt to disperse the crowd with tear gas…” He paused, listening intently, his brow furrowing again. “WHAT? Gods… Okay… I will personally call the mayor.”

He rubbed his temples with a weary sigh, the lines around his eyes deepening as he waited for the answer. “Mr. Mayor,” Levi began, his voice firm yet laced with a hint of urgency, “take a deep breath, please. Yes, I understand the gravity of your situation. No, under no circumstances are you to attempt to confront the crowd yourself. Yes…” He listened intently for a moment. “I understand your desire to be present. However, listen to me carefully now: gather your family immediately, and I will arrange a secure escort to your location. Following that, I will organize your discreet relocation to a designated safe house.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “Mr. Mayor, I commend your bravery and your commitment to your city, but this is not a moment for heroic gestures. Please, allow me to ensure your safety. Your well-being is paramount.”

He called the mayor brave for wanting to face the crowd. Is Levi brave? He faces down political opponents, economic collapses, and now… riots that threaten the safety of officials. He doesn't even flinch. And I… I panicked over a game. I need to get my head out of my own self-absorbed world and actually see what he deals with every single day.

“Understood, Mr. Mayor. Get away from the windows and doors immediately.” He ended the call and swiftly dialed another number. “Listen carefully. Stop what you’re doing. No arguments. The Mayor is in immediate danger. A significant portion of the crowd has broken off and is now directly in front of his residence, throwing rocks and plastic bottles. Before some idiot tries to escalate things with a incendiary device, I want a cluster of your most trusted personnel to go there, using a human shield formation. Get the Mayor to put on different clothes, something inconspicuous, and then escort him discreetly to the designated police safe house,” he paused, listening briefly. “No, absolutely no helicopter. Only a car. Understood? Good work.” He disconnected the call, his expression grim.

Gods… this has escalated way beyond a simple riot. This is terrifying.

His phone buzzed again, the tone making me flinch. I held my breath, watching Levi’s face tighten. “What?” he said, his voice clipped, and then listened for a tense moment. “Ugh… No… Fine. I’ll handle it.” He ended the call with a sharp click, only to immediately dial another number. “Deploy units to the capital’s largest monument, yes, the main boulevard. Station the police there, forming a perimeter.” He paused, listening, his frustration escalating. “Gods! No, how many times do I have to tell you? NO! Only shields! Absolutely not! Shut up and follow instructions!” He groaned. “What? Do you expect me to dissolve the entire police force too, just like I did with the parasitic nobility? Stop acting like a power-crazed brute trampling on citizens just so you can avoid beating your wife, you disgusting excuse for a human being…” He paused, taking a shuddering breath. “Good enough. See that it’s done.” He slammed the phone down.

He hasn’t even had a sip of his damn hot chocolate. This is relentless.

A sudden surge of purpose, a desperate need to do something, anything to break through the suffocating helplessness, propelled me from the couch. From the freezer, I retrieved his favorite vanilla ice cream. Carefully, I added a spoonful to his steaming mug of hot chocolate, stirring it until it melted into creamy sweetness. Just the way he liked it.

Levi offered me a weary smile, and just as his fingers brushed against the mug, his phone buzzed again. Gods… the man couldn't even steal a single moment of respite. “Yes?” he said, his voice flat, and listened for a moment. “Some minor vandalism… Understood. No, it is fine. As long as they do not attempt to tear down the building, some spray paint is hardly the end of the world. And you,” his tone hardened, “you tell your so-called officers to cease their brutal trampling of citizens immediately, because as far as I’m concerned, not a single one of you has earned the right to call themselves a decent human being.” He disconnected the call with a decisive snap.

“Levi… is this your average lunch break?” I asked, my voice laced with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

He finally took a sip of his hot chocolate, a small sigh escaping his lips. “No, my dear Raphael, it is not typically this… operatic. Usually, it involves more shrieking and sniveling ministers than actual fire bombs. However, today we have a rather spirited riot erupting in the capital. Unlike the last instance, this one lacks the gentle charm of a peaceful protest. So, yes, I am currently engaged in the delicate balancing act of ensuring citizens retain their fundamental right to express their grievances, whilst simultaneously preventing our… enthusiastic police force from turning them into pin cushions with plastic bullets, all while desperately trying to prevent our fledgling new currency from plummeting into the abyss should the crowd decide to redecorate the shopping districts with their frustrations, and, of course, ensuring our esteemed mayor doesn’t become an impromptu bonfire.” He took a larger sip.

“If I had to answer even one of those phone calls, Levi… just the sheer weight of the responsibility, the potential for disaster… I’d probably curl up into a fetal ball of paralyzing fear…” I admitted, a shiver tracing its way down my spine just imagining it.

He nodded slowly. “Indeed. Your brain, quite efficiently, releases those stress-inducing hormones in response to perceived threats. Mine, however… does not. My frontal lobe, the seat of executive function and emotional regulation, and my amygdala, the primary center for processing fear and anxiety, are, as you know, structurally… smaller than yours. So, no, Raphael. I am not experiencing stress, nor am I feeling fear. My prevailing emotions are primarily annoyance at the pervasive incompetence and a profound weariness at having to constantly correct the blundering of others.”

I pondered his words. “So… it’s not really bravery, not in the way most people understand it. It’s just… the way you are.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on NovelBin. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Precisely,” Levi confirmed, setting down his mug with a faint clink. “It is merely data to be processed, a series of interconnected puzzles to be solved. The primary distinction in this particular puzzle, however, is that its solution necessitates direct interaction with the police force, which, even to an avowedly apolitical individual such as yourself, should be glaringly apparent as a… suboptimal form of communication. The breathtaking incompetence, the casual embrace of violence, the endemic abuse of power… Ugh. It is enough to test the limits of even my considerable patience.”

“So… let me try to understand this,” I said slowly, piecing together his unusual perspective. “It’s not the inherent value of the mayor’s life that motivates you… but simply the fact that his potential demise would complicate the intricate puzzle you’re currently trying to solve.”

“Yes,” Levi confirmed. “While I do not harbor any particular sentimental attachment to the mayor’s continued existence, I did, as you correctly recall, invest a considerable amount of time and resources in his political development over the past months, grooming him specifically to effectively govern and oversee the capital. To allow him to perish now, particularly in such a… melodramatic fashion – a mayor being violently dispatched by his own citizenry amidst this already volatile situation – would be an act of profound strategic ineptitude on my part. Not only would it introduce a significant and unwelcome variable into the already delicate calculations surrounding the upcoming presidential election, but it would also, quite predictably, provide the more… enthusiastic

elements within the police force with a convenient justification to engage in a rather extensive and indiscriminate butchering of said citizenry. Such an outcome would, as you can imagine, further complicate the puzzle considerably.”

It's still unsettling, but… I'm starting to understand the logic, the cold, hard calculus that drives him. It's not about a lack of caring, exactly…

“I… I think I’m beginning to understand you, Levi,” I said slowly, the weight of his words settling in my mind. “Not entirely, no. It’s still… a very different way of seeing things. But… shifting my perspective, trying to see the situation through your eyes… I think I’m starting to grasp it.”

“Hm, is that so?” he said, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. “So when I explicitly state that I do not particularly care whether the mayor lives or dies, your immediate instinct is to attempt to understand my reasoning?”

“Yes,” I affirmed, a newfound certainty in my voice. “I mean… I think I understand. I wouldn’t exactly weep for a random politician either, no. But… your indifference, your focus on the strategic implications… it ultimately saved his life. Even though your primary motivation wasn’t altruism, but simply ensuring your prior investment of time and resources wasn’t wasted.”

“Ah, my dear Raphael,” Levi said, his smirk widening slightly, a touch of playful exasperation in his tone. “Still determined to view my morally ambiguous actions through the rose-tinted lens of your optimism? When will you finally dispense with the need to find some redeeming quality and simply acknowledge the truth? I did this because I wanted to avoid a messy, inefficient outcome that would negatively impact my objectives. Divorced from any quaint notions of moral obligation.”

I keep trying to find some sliver of… not goodness, exactly, but some relatable human motivation behind his actions. But he's laying it bare. And in a twisted way, there's a certain honesty to that. He's not pretending to be a hero. He's just… Levi.

“Gods…” I murmured, the realization hitting me with unexpected force. “Levi… your name… it means ‘joined,’ ‘attached,’ but it’s also associated with the tribe of Levi, the priests… and in some interpretations, ‘hero.’ What a staggering irony. Who named you?”

“Hm…” Levi mused, tilting his head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Who named me? The specifics have been lost to the mists of time, I’m afraid. Possibly my grandfather. I gather he harbored certain… aspirations for me. He wished for me to follow in his footsteps. But alas, my own tyrannical inclinations proved… somewhat divergent. My claws, as it were, were rather more adept at dismantling than at grasping power in the traditional sense. Our lineage began as physicians, healers, as you very well know, they founded the very first medicinal Academia in this country three centuries ago. But my grandfather… he was an aberration. He raised a bloodhound, me, and that hound ultimately ended up hunting him down, dismantling everything he built, everything he stood for. Indeed, dearest Raphael, the irony is rather… piquant, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Your family, Levi… it’s just… so profoundly, spectacularly fucked up,” I said, shaking my head slowly, trying to process the layers of history and dysfunction. “Even after everything I’ve witnessed, everything you’ve told me… it still feels impossible to fully comprehend the sheer scale of it all. But you know, as horrifying as your family history is, I do find myself… captivated by your retellings. It somehow manages to make my own family, with their deeply ingrained god-fearing, racist, and homophobic tendencies, sound almost… pedestrian by comparison.”

“Hm…” Levi mused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “The nobility’s prejudices were certainly… multifaceted. Racism was prevalent, though often intertwined with a more pervasive xenophobia, a general disdain for anyone not of their rarefied circle. And homophobia…” he chuckled. “My dear Raphael, half of their ‘mistresses’ were, in fact, men. Homophobia, was a societal constraint they primarily sought to impose upon the ‘commoners.’ For themselves, well… different rules applied, wouldn't you agree?”

It's disgusting, but… not entirely surprising, given everything else I've learned about them.

“What other ludicrous and utterly pointless rules did they have?” I asked, my morbid curiosity piqued.

“Well,” Levi began, a wry smile playing on his lips, “as you are undoubtedly aware, it was considered a severe breach of decorum, strictly forbidden in fact, for married noble couples to engage in anything as vulgar as kissing in public. The absolute height of permissible public affection was a fleeting hand-hold. Ah,” he paused, a shadow crossing his features, “but this next one… this one delves into depths of paranoia and misogyny that are truly stomach-churning. Centuries ago, when a noble woman was in labor, the witnesses ensuring the legitimacy of the birth were noble men. Later, this shifted, though not out of any newfound respect for the birthing woman. Instead, other noble women would be present during the delivery, their role being to observe the entire process, ostensibly to guarantee the infant emerged from a truly noble ‘womb’ and prevent any… shall we say… ‘accidental’ or ‘intentional’ switching of newborns.” He shook his head, a look of profound disgust on his face.

“The misogyny, the sheer objectification… it’s appalling. No wonder you felt compelled to tear it all down,” I said, a wave of revulsion washing over me.

Levi chuckled softly, a hint of dark satisfaction in his voice. “Ah, but my dear Raphael, I was not a solitary revolutionary wielding the axe of justice all on my lonesome. The toppling of that rotten edifice was a far more… collaborative effort. Nearly every single noblewoman, aside from my mother’s insular and equally toxic little clique, were, in fact, my invaluable informants. Once again, the serpent devoured its own tail, driven by its inherent self-interest and petty grievances. I merely… ensured the process was expedited with a certain degree of strategic… encouragement.”

“Hm… I remember meeting quite a few of them, yes, your… rather well-informed network. But how did you ensure their loyalty, their willingness to essentially betray their own families, their own fathers and brothers?” I asked, still slightly incredulous.

“That was the exquisitely simple part,” Levi replied, a hint of triumph in his voice. “I offered them something that all the gold and titles in their gilded cages could never purchase: freedom. And they seized it. Without a moment’s hesitation. They were, in their own way, formidable allies, driven by a desperation for autonomy that had been systematically denied to them. This entire… restructuring… would have likely dragged on for another decade, perhaps even two, mired in endless political maneuvering and bloodshed, had their invaluable intelligence and quiet sabotage not been instrumental.”

A decade or two of bloodshed… he avoided all that by offering a single, potent promise.

“You wanted the same thing, too, didn’t you, Levi?” I said softly, finally understanding the deeper resonance of his actions.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his gaze distant for a fleeting moment. “To be free. To simply exist as a person, unburdened by the suffocating weight of expectation and obligation. My mother was singularly focused on ensuring I would inherit the crown after the king. So… I took rather decisive steps to ensure that no one would ever wear any crown in this nation again.”

It always circles back to that fundamental plea. The desire to exist as a person, accepted and understood for who he is, not for his lineage or his capabilities.

“Yeah…” I said softly. “And you did it, Levi. You carved out that freedom for yourself. And now… now you’re fighting to ensure that others can be free too, in their own way.”

“Indeed,” he sighed, the weariness returning to his voice. “To be brutally candid, at this precise moment, my primary occupation involves preventing a rather enthusiastic segment of the populace from immolating the mayor and simultaneously restraining our… overly zealous police force from engaging in a wholesale butchering of said populace. In moments such as these, I find myself regretting my perhaps overly idealistic approach to instilling democracy and my rather inconveniently strong sense of justice. Gods, Raphael. I seem to be perpetually cleaning up my own mess.”

He tore down the old order, but the transition is proving to be, well, messy. The irony just keeps piling on. The liberator, now the reluctant janitor of his own revolution.

“You know, it’s funny,” I said, a small smile playing on my lips as I recalled the bizarre dream. “You were King Levi, but you were trying to abolish slavery. Even in my dreams, you were a terrorist to the established order.”

Levi chuckled. “Ah, was I? That does sound remarkably like me.” He paused, a gleam of mischievousness in his eyes. “I assume I was also taking a rather… unseemly amount of pleasure in the horrified, disgusted, and utterly perplexed expressions on the faces of the assembled nobles?”

I laughed, the image of a regal yet rebellious Levi in my dream still vivid. “Yeah. You had this wonderfully wicked glint in your eye, declaring you were about to ‘ruffle some antique feathers,’ and then you instructed Julia, to deliver message of hope to the common citizens, immediately followed by a rather… pointed string of insults directed at the bewildered nobles.”

“Your subconscious possesses a remarkably astute and, dare I say, flattering understanding of my… proclivities. I am genuinely pleased to know that even in the labyrinthine corridors of your mind, my essential nature remains so… accurately perceived.”

"So, you admit it then? Even in a world where you're king, you'd still be stirring the pot and upsetting the status quo," I reiterated, a playful challenge in my voice.

"Oh, stir the pot?" Levi echoed, a sparkle entering his eyes. "If I were burdened with the dubious honor of kingship, 'stirring the pot' would be a gross understatement. I'd likely expedite the process of societal reform by holding a rather… comprehensive mass execution of the entire noble class within the first twenty-four hours. A swift, decisive solution, albeit one with a rather high probability of leading to my immediate and enthusiastic dethronement."

"Shit, Levi," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You said almost the exact same thing in my dream."

“Truly,” Levi chuckled again, a warm sound that vibrated through his chest as he drew me closer. “My dear, it appears I have been woefully underestimating the perspicacity of your subconscious. It seems to grasp my… long-term objectives with an almost unnerving accuracy.”

With a playful yet undeniably suggestive movement, he gently guided me back until the edge of the kitchen counter pressed against the small of my back. His hand lingered for a fleeting moment on my hip, his thumb subtly brushing against my side before he leaned in, his body a warm pressure against mine.

Damn. Was this the prelude to another one of his… intensely focused episodes? Like the time he’d unraveled the knot of the currency change? Not that I was entirely opposed to the idea. His intellectual passions often translated into… rather exhilarating physical expressions.

He tilted his head, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His lips followed, nipping gently at my earlobe before tracing the line of my jaw. I closed my eyes, a sigh escaping my lips as I placed my hands on his bare chest. My fingers splayed out, finding and caressing his sensitive nipples, feeling the immediate response beneath my fingertips, the quickening of his breath mirroring my own rising anticipation.

“Levi…” I breathed out, the word catching slightly in my throat. “Please… let’s go to the bed.”