“What does Pulla and Vexia mean?” I asked.

The question seemed to amuse him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"Ah, Pulla," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with a strange fondness. "Still clinging to the small mysteries amidst the grand revelations, are we? Surprising me at every turn." He paused, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It is ancient Ascarian, a language that has long faded from common use. 'Pulla' means 'little animal' or, more specifically, 'rabbit.' And 'Vexia'… that means 'fox.'"

"Rabbit and fox," I repeated softly, the words tasting strange on my tongue. I looked at him, really looked at him, at the man who had called me those names. "A little, scared animal… and something… quick and clever."

Was that how he truly saw me?

Levi’s gaze softened, a strange, almost wistful expression flickering across his features. “Oh, Pulla,” he murmured, his voice losing some of its earlier sharp edges. “I know that look. That faint flush creeping up your cheeks, that slight tremor in your hands. It’s your humanity, blooming again, isn’t it?”

He took a step closer, his eyes intent. “Even after everything I’ve told you, even after witnessing the carnage, that stubborn little spark of yours refuses to be extinguished. That inherent goodness, that infuriatingly persistent empathy. It’s quite remarkable, Pulla. Truly.”

“So… if you are impressed. Let me help you.”

“Help me, Pulla?” he echoed, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice. “After everything? You still believe you can… help me?”

“I do. And I am a fucking idiot. But, yes I think I do.” I said with the last courage I could muster. A soft chuckle escaped Levi’s lips, a sound that held a surprising lack of mockery. “Indeed, Pulla,” he murmured, his gaze softening further.

He took a slow step closer, the distance between us now almost negligible. His hand, hesitant for the first time, reached out and gently brushed a stray tear from my cheek. “Are you absolutely certain, Raphael?” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. The weight of his past, the chasm of our differences, the sheer impossibility of what I was proposing…

The gentle touch on my cheek lingered for a fleeting moment before his hand dropped away as swiftly as it had appeared. A subtle shift came over Levi, the soft light in his eyes hardening into a familiar, calculating gleam.

“Raphael,” he began, his voice regaining its usual measured tone, “before we delve further into this… ambitious endeavor of yours to ‘help’ me, I must, as a pragmatist through and through, assess your capabilities, wouldn’t you agree? Due diligence, as it were.”

“What—?”

Suddenly, his hand shot up, moving with lightning speed towards my face. Instinctively, my eyes squeezed shut, a wave of pure terror washing over me. Shit. My mind raced. Of course he wasn’t going to hit me. Not after all this… This is a test.

A wave of shame washed over me, hot on the heels of the lingering fear. He was right. Despite his earlier assurances, despite the fragile moments of connection we had shared amidst the horrifying revelations, my first instinct had been pure, unadulterated terror.

Levi’s voice, though soft, held a distinct note of disappointment, almost sadness. “Pulla,” he murmured, his tone genuinely wounded. “You broke my heart again, just a little. I told you, quite explicitly, that I had no intention of harming you. And yet… your immediate reaction was fear. You still got scared.”

He stepped back slightly, a subtle withdrawal that felt more impactful than any physical distance. The thoughtful scrutiny in his eyes was now tinged with something else – a hint of hurt, perhaps.

“So,” he continued, his voice quiet, the earlier calculating edge returning, “if your immediate assumption, despite my direct assurances, is that I will inflict violence upon you… how can you possibly hope to ‘help’ me move away from actions you clearly believe are rooted in a capacity for cruelty?”

He paused, a faint, almost condescending smile touching his lips. "You are scared because, on a fundamental level, you perceive me as cruel, malevolent, violent. And while I acknowledge the… decisive nature of my actions, they were, in their own way, often rooted in a desire to prevent greater suffering, to enact a more efficient and ultimately less bloody resolution. Merciful, in the grand scheme of things, perhaps.”

He continued, his voice softening slightly. "You can ask my employees. Ask Annie. She is even more of a timid rabbit than you, and yet, she has never once feared for her physical safety in my presence. Not because I am a morally upright man, but why would she be scared? There is no reason for it, truly.”

"No reason?" I repeated, the incredulity thick in my voice. "Levi, you just confessed to… everything! And you think the fact that your timid employee isn't physically terrified of you somehow absolves you? Maybe she's terrified of losing her job! Maybe she's terrified of what you could do, even if you don't physically lay a hand on her!"

My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating logic of his twisted worldview. "Fear isn't just about physical violence, Levi! It's about power imbalances, about knowing someone is capable of terrible things, even if they choose not to act on them in every single moment! You have the power to ruin lives, to end them, and you wield that power with a chilling detachment! Of course I'm scared! Any sane person would be!"

“Indeed, Pulla,” he conceded, his voice calm. “From your vantage point, steeped in the messy, unpredictable world of human emotion and morality, your fear is a perfectly logical conclusion. I do not dispute its validity for you.” He paused, stepping a fraction closer, his gaze now intensely focused. “But consider my perspective, if you will.”

“How can I consider it from your perspective?” I murmured.

He took another step closer, his gaze intense. "When emotions are removed from the equation, eventually, everything boils down to benefit. If someone possesses something I deem beneficial – be it information, resources, influence, or even your… unique perspective – I will pursue obtaining it with efficiency. If someone lacks such benefit, they simply cease to be of interest. I will leave them alone, without malice, without any particular feeling at all."

He spread his hands slightly, a gesture of open explanation. "I truly, genuinely do not care in the way you understand the word. The suffering of others does not inherently distress me. Their joy does not elate me. They are simply… data points in a complex system. So let me understand, Raphael. From this perspective, devoid of emotional investment, why would anyone be inherently scared of me? Why? Because I do not feel the same things they do? Because their well-being is not a factor in my calculations unless it directly impacts my objectives?"

I met his gaze, trying to convey the depth of my understanding. "It's not about you wanting to hurt people, not out of anger or hatred. It's about you being capable of anything, without the constraints of empathy or morality. And that capability, that absolute freedom from human feeling... that's the scariest thing of all."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You say that capability, that freedom, is what frightens people. But consider this: if I were born without noble blood, without any power or influence to my name, would people still hold this inherent fear? Would a penniless, unfeeling man inspire the same terror?"

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He paused, letting the question hang in the air. "I think not, Raphael. Fear, in your world, is so often intertwined with power, with the capacity to act upon that detachment. You fear what I can do, not merely what I am. And that, my dear, is a crucial distinction."

He studied my face, his expression thoughtful. "I think I understand now, a little better. Your belief in me, this… stubborn hope you cling to… it is not solely about me, is it? You also believe in the potential for acceptance from others. You think that if I were to… recalibrate, as you so charmingly put it, the world would somehow embrace a man who lacks the very foundations of human connection. You believe they would accept me." His tone held a note of profound skepticism, bordering on pity. "That, Pulla, is perhaps the most naive notion you have entertained thus far."

"No," I insisted, my voice firm despite the tremor of doubt his words had planted. "I believe it, truly. It won't be everyone, I'm not that naive. Not even the people closest to you, perhaps. Their perceptions are too ingrained, their fears too deeply rooted." I met his gaze, trying to convey the unwavering conviction in my heart. "But I know there will be others. Individuals who can look beyond the surface, beyond the lack of feeling, and see… something else. Maybe not understanding, not at first, but a willingness to try. People who value honesty, even when it's terrifying. People who can see the potential for a different kind of existence, even for someone like you."

He paused, his gaze drifting slightly, as if considering the vast complexities of human society. “Humanity, in its masses, tends to fear what it does not understand. And I, my dear Raphael, am a creature they are unlikely to ever truly comprehend, let alone accept without reservation.”

“Yeah. You are right. The first time I saw you, I could feel the shivers running down my spine. I felt it everyday, in this house. I will maybe never understand you, never comprehend you but I promise I will try to understand.”

A soft chuckle escaped Levi’s lips, a sound that held a surprising note of genuine warmth, albeit tinged with his characteristic unsettling edge. “Pulla,” he murmured, his gaze softening in a way I hadn't witnessed before. “You are going to make me… cry. What a magnificent, baffling creature you are.”

He stepped closer, his earlier gentle demeanor hardening slightly, replaced by a familiar intensity. “Now, let’s not dwell on the impossible, but focus on the tangible. Look me in the eye, Raphael. And ‘understand’ this, in all its reality: I rendered the king infertile, deliberately altering the course of a nation. I ended ancient bloodlines with a calculated stroke. I bankrupted powerful families, leaving them in ruin. I organized networks of individuals to betray their loyalties, to spy on their loved ones, to tear their own families apart for my purposes. Now, look at me, Pulla. Look into my eyes, and tell me you truly understand that.”

My gaze locked with his, the intensity in his deep blue eyes a tangible force. The warmth from moments ago had vanished, leaving behind a chilling challenge.

"I..." I began, my voice barely a whisper, the enormity of his actions threatening to overwhelm me. I searched his eyes, trying to find a flicker of something beyond the cold, hard pronouncements. A hint of regret? A shadow of justification? But there was none.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to meet his gaze unflinchingly. "I understand... the what," I said, my voice gaining a sliver of strength. "I understand the actions you took. Rendering the king infertile... ending bloodlines... the bankruptcies... the betrayals. I hear the words. I acknowledge the consequences."

I paused, the weight of my next words heavy on my tongue. "What I don't understand, what I may never truly grasp... is the why behind the 'why.' The absence of... the human element. The ease with which you wielded such power, such destruction, without... without the constraints that would cripple most people."

My gaze didn't waver. "So no, Levi," I said, my voice gaining a newfound resolve. "I don't understand that. But I promised I would try. And trying means acknowledging the full scope of what you are telling me, even if it terrifies me. Even if it makes my stomach churn. I hear you. I see you. And I will try to understand."

My hand flew to my mouth, pressing hard against my lips as the bile rose in my throat. "Before... before we continue with this... I am going to puke," I gasped, my voice muffled and strained. "This time... this time it's really happening. Please... help me.,

“The washroom,” he stated, his voice regaining its usual calm. He gestured with a slight inclination of his head towards the door. “Through there. Quickly, Raphael.”

There was no hint of disgust or impatience in his tone, merely a detached directive, as if dealing with a sudden, inconvenient biological necessity. It wasn't the reaction of a loving partner, but it wasn't outright callous either. It was Levi, addressing a problem with the most logical and expedient solution.

As I stumbled towards the indicated door, clutching my mouth, I could feel his gaze on my back, not with judgment, but with a clinical observation.

I barely made it to the porcelain basin before the violent retching began, the force of it shaking my entire body.

Between heaves, I could vaguely sense Levi in the doorway. There was no offer of a comforting hand, no soothing words, just that detached scrutiny. It was as if he were documenting the physical manifestation of my distress, another data point in his ongoing analysis of human reactions.

The spasms finally subsided, leaving me weak and trembling, my face damp with sweat and tears. I leaned heavily against the cool marble, trying to regain some semblance of composure, the bitter taste of bile lingering in my mouth.

When I finally dared to look up, Levi was still there, leaning against the doorframe. He hadn't approached, hadn't offered any physical assistance, but he hadn't left either. He was simply… waiting.

“You really did scare the shit out of me. So, a little I dunno heads up next time, before confessing to your sins?”

"My apologies, Pulla," he said, his voice calm and even, as if discussing the weather. He pushed himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step into the washroom, but maintaining a respectful distance. "Consider this a learning opportunity for us both. For you, a firsthand understanding of the… weight of my truths. For me, a more nuanced appreciation for the delicate interplay between human emotion and the digestive system. A 'heads up' for future… disclosures? A reasonable request, though I cannot guarantee the precise timing of such revelations."

“Also, your noble talk bores the shit out of me, just dial it down.” I said while flickering my hand and reaching to the sink to wash my mouth. A slight narrowing of Levi's eyes was the only outward indication that my comment had registered beyond mere data. He paused his slow approach, his head tilting ever so slightly, as if recalibrating his internal algorithms.

"Duly noted, Pulla," he replied, his tone still measured but perhaps a fraction less formal. "The… 'noble talk,' as you term it, serves a purpose in certain contexts, but I gather its efficacy is somewhat diminished in the intimate confines of a post-emetic interlude. I shall endeavor to modulate my lexicon accordingly. Simpler phrasing, more direct articulation. Understood?"

I took a shaky breath, the lingering taste of bile still clinging to the back of my throat. "Yeah," I managed, my voice still a little rough. "Understood." I straightened up, leaning slightly against the counter for support. My legs felt weak, but the immediate wave of nausea had passed, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion.

I looked at him, really looked at him, standing there with that detached yet observant gaze. The urge to run, to escape this prison and the unsettling man who inhabited it, was still strong. But a strange sort of resignation had settled over me, a weary acceptance of the bizarre reality I now found myself in.

"So," I said, pushing myself away from the counter, "now that my stomach has had its say… where were we?"

“Ah, yes I was wondering why you were drinking to yourself to oblivion this morning. And since it led to us this. It was truly a magnificent night.”

"Can you… right. Okay," I stammered, pushing a hand through my disheveled hair. The thought of immediately diving back into the abyss of Levi's confessions felt like trying to swim after nearly drowning. "I am… not completely ready for that, okay? Not yet." I took another shaky breath. "I need… a lot more mental gymnastics before I can even begin to process half of what you've told me. And frankly," I admitted, a wry, exhausted smile touching my lips, "I think I might need to order a whole library of psychology books just to even scratch the surface of understanding… well, you."

He smirked and simply nodded. "A prudent approach, Pulla," he conceded, his voice smooth and even. "Rushing into the labyrinth of the human psyche, particularly one as uniquely structured as mine, without adequate preparation could lead to further… digestive disturbances, I imagine. Take your time. Peruse your volumes. Engage in your 'mental gymnastics.' I shall endeavor to remain… a constant for your eventual analysis."

“I just said cut down on the noble talk. Like a second ago.”

His smirk softened ever so slightly. “Accept my apologies.”

As I moved towards the living room, I could feel Levi's gaze following me, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet.