Okay, Levi thought this was going to be a simple display of his brute strength. He was looming, confident. Fine. Let's play this his way, for a second. I launched myself into a series of quick, mocking movements. A blur to his left, then a sharp pivot to his right, a swift jump over the coffee table, landing lightly on the other side. It wasn't an attack. It was a visual taunt, a display of the very agility he seemed so dismissive of. I kept my eyes locked on his, a challenging smirk playing on my lips. Let's see how amusing you found it when you couldn't even touch me, you overgrown cat.

He watched my display with languid amusement, his intense gaze following my every quick shift and jump. There was no frustration on his face, no hint of exertion as he tracked my movements. If anything, a slow smile spread across his lips, as if he was observing an interesting, if somewhat predictable, insect flitting about.

"Impressive bursts of energy, Raphael," he remarked, his voice a low purr that carried easily across the room. "A commendable display of… franticness. But agility without a target is merely acrobatics. And while your leaps were… aesthetically diverting, had you considered a strategy that involved actual contact?"

The lack of any real reaction from him was starting to get under my skin. He wasn't even trying. He was just… watching.

"And what makes you so confident I won't make contact, Levi?" I challenged, my movements becoming slightly more deliberate, testing his reactions. "Perhaps I'm just enjoying the view from up here for a moment." I hopped onto the back of an armchair, the sudden elevation giving me a temporary vantage point. From here, I could observe him more clearly, looking for any tell, any sign of overconfidence or a lapse in his unnerving focus. It also had the added benefit of disrupting his easy line of sight, making me a slightly less predictable target.

"The view from that precarious perch is indeed… flattering, Raphael. However, gravity, as I recall, remains a rather persistent force. And my reach, even from down here, is quite… extensive." He took a deliberate step closer to the armchair.

Shit… He is coming. No, do not be scared. Instead, watch him. Watch the subtle shifts in his weight. He thinks this is a simple matter of closing the distance and using his enhanced strength. He expects me to panic, to flee in a predictable pattern. But I won't. I'll use this moment, to gauge his speed, his reach. Let him come. The armchair isn't just a perch; it's a launchpad.

His approach was deceptively casual, each step measured, his eyes never leaving mine. There was a stillness about him, like a coiled viper ready to strike. As he drew closer, I focused on his feet, the shift in balance as he prepared to reach. That was my cue. Just as his hand started to extend, I launched myself upwards and outwards, using the back of the armchair as a spring. It wasn't a graceful leap, more of a desperate burst of movement, aiming not to gain height this time, but distance.

The change in my trajectory seemed to surprise him, just for a fraction of a second. His hand, closed on empty air. That tiny hesitation, that flicker of surprise in his intense gaze, was all the opening I needed. Instead of continuing to flee, I twisted in mid-air, using the momentum of my jump to propel me not further away, but towards him, aiming low. My target was his ankles. It was a gamble that relied entirely on the element of surprise and his underestimation of my willingness to engage. If he anticipated it, I'd be caught in his grip. But his brief flicker of surprise gave me hope. Now, it was a matter of speed and precision.

My feet shot out, a sweep aimed at his ankles. For a heart-stopping moment, I wasn't sure if it would work. But the audacity of the move, seemed to catch him off guard. I felt a solid connection, a momentary resistance, and then, the unmistakable shift in his weight as his balance faltered. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound that spoke of surprise and a flicker of annoyance. He hadn't anticipated this. The overgrown cat was finally losing its footing.

As his balance wavered, I didn't try to maintain the awkward leg lock. Instead, I used his momentum against him, pushing off his ankles to propel myself backwards, creating distance again. He stumbled, his powerful arms windmilling slightly to regain his footing. His surprise was palpable, the amusement in his eyes replaced by a flash of something akin to… annoyance? Good. Annoyance led to mistakes. He was still dangerous, but for the first time since this bizarre wrestling match began, I felt a sliver of hope.

He wasn't smiling anymore. The playful amusement had been replaced by a focused intensity, a predator now fully aware that its prey might actually have teeth. He took a slow step towards me. He wouldn't underestimate me again. I felt a surge of something – an exhilarating thrill. I had managed to surprise Levi.

He moved with a speed that was still unnerving, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. There was no playful hesitation. He lunged. Instead of trying to block his powerful arms directly, I ducked low, aiming to slip beneath his grasp. The force of the displaced air was enough to ruffle my hair. He was holding back, I knew, not wanting to actually harm me, but even restrained, his strength was terrifying. Slipping past his initial grab, I pivoted sharply, trying to get behind him, to use his momentum against him.

"So, you do possess a modicum of strategic thinking after all. Amusing. But even the most agile prey eventually tires." He took a step, cutting off my potential escape routes.

Now, I had to be even faster, even more unpredictable. I couldn't afford to tire. His game was to wear me down until his superior strength became the undeniable factor. I had to find another opening.

He moved again, a blur of motion that was almost impossible to track. This time, it was a sweeping grab, aimed to cut off my legs and bring me down. I reacted instinctively, leaping upwards. The close call sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. He was fast. My earlier agility was barely enough to evade him. Landing lightly, I didn't pause, immediately shifting direction, trying to keep him turning, to force him to constantly adjust his footing.

My constant changes in direction seemed to be having a minimal effect on his balance. He was too well-coordinated, his reflexes too sharp. I was starting to feel the strain, my breath coming in quicker gasps.

“Ah, dear Raphael,” Levi purred, his voice soft as he took another measured step, closing the distance between us with an unnerving calm. “Are your lungs beginning to burn?” He took another step, his eyes never leaving mine. “Are your muscles starting to tear from these… frantic bursts of energy?” Another step. “Does your heart beat like a trapped bird in your chest?” He paused, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “See, my dear, that is the inherent price of your precious ‘agility,’ isn’t it? A fleeting advantage that ultimately yields to the inevitable attrition of exhaustion.”

"And what, Levi," I gasped, trying to keep my voice steady despite the burning in my lungs, "is the price of relying solely on brute force? A dull mind and predictable movements. You might catch me, but it won't be because I'm predictable." I took a shaky step sideways, trying to create more space.

“Have you ever paused to consider,” Levi purred, his voice taking on a strangely pedagogical tone even as his eyes remained fixed on me, “why most felines – creatures often lauded for their agility – prefer to hide, to wait, to observe their prey instead of simply charging headfirst? The answer is rather elementary. Felines are not built for prolonged stamina; their power lies in short, explosive bursts of energy. They stalk, they strategize, and then, at the precise moment, they pounce.”

What the actual fuck was he talking about all of a sudden? This sudden shift in his demeanor, the bizarre zoological lecture in the middle of our… wrestling match? My already scrambled brain struggled to keep up.

He lunged. His hands closed around both of my shoulders. It was a grip that telegraphed a silent declaration: I won.

"Fuck…" I rasped. "That's… what you were talking about… with the cats… wasn't it?"

"Precisely, dearest," Levi purred, a smug satisfaction evident in his unwavering gaze. "You see, the human body, in its limited design, is not truly built for sustained agility, is it? Its strength lies in endurance. Instead of those… frantic leaps and runs, you should have conserved your energy. Hidden. Allowed your body to breathe, to regulate. Though," he added, his eyes gleaming with a hint of something akin to genuine amusement, "while this outcome was rather predictable, your little acrobatic display was… amusing to watch.”

He really was like a lion, wasn't he? Calm, powerful, observing his exhausted prey with a quiet sense of triumph. And I, the foolish mouse, had played right into his paws.

"You didn't… catch me outright… did you… asshole?" I managed to wheeze out.

"My, my," Levi mused, a hint of genuine intrigue in his eyes. "Rather keen observation, considering your current state of… respiratory distress. But do tell me, my dear Raphael, what leads you to such a conclusion?"

"You wanted me to feel the irony…" I said, the realization dawning on me, bitter and sharp. "The agile prey caught not by superior speed, but by exhaustion…"

"Ah, my Raphael," Levi purred, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "You are growing so delightfully accustomed to the intricacies of my tastes. Yes, partly that. Truthfully," he leaned in slightly, his gaze intense, "I also confess that catching you outright would have deprived me of the considerable joy of watching your spirited… theatrics. And," a subtle shift in his expression, "you would have found it… unduly 'scary.' So, I allowed you to believe, for a fleeting moment, that victory might be within your grasp. It fostered a certain… confidence, didn't it? Which, I suspect, only amplifies the exquisite taste of this current… feeling of defeat, wouldn't you agree?"

"You manipulative bastard…" I repeated, the anger still simmering, but tinged with a strange sort of weary resignation. "But fine. I'm starting to… kinda understand your twisted logic. And yeah, okay, being tossed around like a goddamn pillow was scary as hell, but there was also this… unsettlingly endearing quality to it. Which I assume…" I paused, my brain still struggling to catch up, "your subtle little manipulation to prolong this game was also… because you find it endearing? Me trying my best to defy you, right? It's almost… cute, Levi. In a really, really dark and disturbing way."

A genuine, soft smile touched his lips, a rare and disarming sight that made the breath catch in my throat. Levi's smiles were usually carefully practiced gestures, sharp and knowing. But this… this was different. The real smiles of Levi were like witnessing a falling star in the inky blackness of space – bright, radiant, breathtakingly rare, and unfortunately, fleeting. You almost picked a wish to make when you saw it, a silent plea for it to linger just a moment longer. It had been so long since I'd seen that unguarded warmth illuminate his features.

"Endearing?" he echoed. "My dear Raphael, you wound my villainous sensibilities with such… domestic terms. But," he conceded, a playful glint returning, "your spirited defiance does possess a certain… undeniable charm. Also, my dear," he added, his gaze becoming more direct, almost… instructive? "do you recall what I told you? When I urged you to use your particular weapon of empathy? See, instead of resorting to immediate accusation and anger, you considered my motivations from a different perspective. And you almost… almost understood it as 'endearing.' Manipulation, dear Raphael, does not always spring from malice. In this instance, I simply… enjoyed watching you. And yes," a small smile flickered again, "I prolonged it."

Ah, look at this magnificent lion, finding the frantic struggles of his prey… charming.

"Okay…" I said slowly, the pieces of this bizarre puzzle clicking into place with a disconcerting clarity. "I understand… kinda. Not a hundred percent, not by a long shot. But… why this sudden honesty, Levi? Knowing full well it would probably just make me angrier and feel like even more of an idiot for falling for it?"

"We said we would take the necessary steps, didn't we, Raphael? Brutal honesty, from this point forward. Essentially, me confessing my manipulation is a double-edged sword for me. On one hand, it makes it more difficult for me to manipulate you in the future, as you are now aware of my… tendencies. Yet, I still chose to confess it to you. Secondly," a faint smile touched his lips, "it might make me appear colder and more distant in your eyes, knowing the extent of my… games. But, once again, it is the truth. Honesty, even at the expense of your anger or your perception of me. So, Raphael," his gaze intensified, a strange mix of challenge and something akin to… vulnerability? "Hone your weapons. Your empathy, your intelligence, your agility. And be prepared for a future woven with threads of brutal honesty and, undoubtedly, the subtle game of manipulation."

It is… undeniably interesting. A paradoxical puzzle, to hear him confess so openly about his manipulations. And as I grappled with this unexpected honesty, a chilling realization began to dawn within me. Something truly soul-crushing.

"Ah, shit, Levi…" I whispered, the air catching in my throat. "I think… I think I'm starting to understand why you're so often inclined towards manipulation… It's because you can't… truly feel it, can you? Not in the way I do. Because you see only data, variables, and how that data can serve your objectives. And… yeah…" The weight of it were pressing down on me. "It's not always malicious, at least not directed at me… it's just… how you navigate the world."

Levi released his grip on my shoulders. His hand settled on the back of my head, his fingers threading lightly through my hair. A fond smile touched his lips.

"Well," he murmured, his voice losing its sharp edges. "It took you long enough to arrive at that particular… conclusion, didn't it, Raphael?"

"Yeah," I sighed, a weariness settling over me that went beyond the physical exertion, "it only took ten months of… us. I definitely need to finally get around to reading those books on neurodivergence. But, I am curious about something. For someone who… operates differently in the realm of feelings, how do you so easily perceive other people's emotions and… use them?"

Levi's hand remained gently on the back of my head, his thumb stroking lightly. "That, my dear Raphael, is simply a matter of meticulous observation. Three decades of existence spent cataloging the intricate dance of human behavior. All I see is data. For example: dilated pupils, a subtle blush creeping up the neck, an averted gaze paired with nervous fidgeting – the data points strongly suggest attraction. Another example: just a moment ago, you registered as 'sad' for me, a conclusion drawn from the slumped posture of your shoulders and the soft timbre of your voice. Or, sometimes, it is merely the deconstruction of semantics within a conversation, the subtle nuances of word choice and tone. My dear Raphael, navigating a world saturated with emotions without truly feeling them oneself is simply a process of observation, the diligent gathering of data, and the strategic utilization of that data. Consider this: I do not inherently 'enjoy' tea; to me, most varieties taste remarkably akin to diluted urine. However, I have observed your positive physiological and behavioral responses to its consumption, therefore, I make you tea. I do not experience a sensation of 'happiness' when you express happiness, no. But I still perform actions intended to elicit that state in you, based on the observed data."

Okay, Raphael. It does sound… clinical. But he isn't trying to be deliberately rude or hurtful. Instead, he's offering an unfiltered honesty, devoid of the emotional sugarcoating. Intent is what truly matters right now. So, Raphael, you idiot, instead of letting your own emotionally driven moral compass immediately recoil, just… listen to him. Try to truly understand his perspective.

"I see…" I murmured slowly. "That data becomes your substitute for understanding. I… understand."

"Substitute," he echoed. "No. It is simply a different language of understanding. One built on logic and pattern recognition rather than instinct and shared sensation. But I do appreciate that you deviated from your established 'pattern' of emotional reactivity."

"Yeah," I conceded, a touch of weary pride in my voice. "I wasn't being an asshole this time, right? Instead, I actually listened and tried to understand your… way of processing things."

"There is no need to resort to such crude vernacular, Raphael," Levi murmured, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. "And, yes. You listened, and you endeavored to understand on a deeper level, utilizing subjective learning rather than immediate emotional response. This has been a rather… illuminating evening, I believe, for both of us."

"Yeah…" I sighed, the exhaustion finally catching up to me in full force. Every muscle ached, and my mind felt like it had run a marathon alongside my body. "It really has been… something. But gods, Levi, I am utterly spent. I just want to sleep."

"Oh? Of course, dear. Allow me," he murmured, his voice losing its earlier playful edge, replaced by a surprising tenderness.

He gently scooped me up into his arms once again, cradling me against his chest as if I weighed no more than a feather. He carried me over the stairs and into my bedroom. This time, there was no disorienting glide, no casual propulsion. He carefully lowered me onto the soft mattress.

"What even is your strength, Levi?" I mumbled, my eyelids already feeling heavy. "What the hell? You just… carried me up two flights of stairs like it was nothing…"

"My dear Raphael," he murmured, his gaze lingering on me, a curious light in his eyes. "I have not yet felt the need to test the full extent of it… yet."

He really is a benevolent tyrant, isn't he? This bizarre display of care, carrying his exhausted prince in his lap up the stairs to his bed, only to then subtly underscore his untapped power with one simple, chilling word.

...

A day crawled by, slow and thick with a strange sort of anticipation, before Levi finally retreated to his study and resumed his… 'job.'

According to the rather lengthy and slightly panicked text message Finn had sent, Levi had practically reduced seasoned professionals to whimpering messes with nothing more than his calm pronouncements during a conference call. And the truly terrifying detail? He'd apparently been spooning his way through a giant tub of ice cream the entire time.

But, to give the devil his due, his unique brand of tyranny had wrought a significant change in just twenty-four hours. Staff who had previously lingered on their breaks now practically sprinted back to their desks. My current role in this bizarre domestic drama? Acting as a captive audience to Levi's rather dramatic (and, dare I say, slightly theatrical) whining concerning the supposed incompetence of his staff. Honestly, sometimes I felt like the true fate of Ascaria rested squarely on my ability to nod sympathetically while he ranted about them.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dining table as I sipped my chamomile tea. Levi, across from me, was indulging in a steaming mug of what smelled like an obscenely rich hot chocolate, his gaze seemingly lost in the hues of the fading sky visible through the window.

"I need to procure presidential candidates."

The tranquil scene shattered. I choked on my tea, a sputtering cough erupting as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. My eyes widened, fixated on his seemingly serene profile.

"R-Raphael, are you alright?" Levi's voice cut through my coughing fit. He was instantly on his feet, his large frame moving with an unexpected swiftness as he gently patted my back.

He doesn't just drop bombshells, does he? No. Levi's preferred method of communication was the casual deployment of nuclear warheads. One simple, declarative sentence, delivered with the same nonchalance one might use to request another napkin, and your entire world tilted on its axis.

"W-What the actual fuck, Levi?" I sputtered, still catching my breath. "I nearly choked on my tea! What in the seven hells do you mean by 'procure presidential candidates'?" I finally managed to lift my gaze, searching his serene expression for any hint of mockery, any sign that this was some twisted joke.

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His gaze met mine, utterly serious. "Since our fledgling democracy is still in its infancy, Raphael, it requires a unifying power, a focal point. We need an election. Furthermore," he continued, "the supposed 'staff' in my brief absence nearly allowed the Ascarian currency to lose a significant portion of its value. Therefore," he gestured vaguely with his hot chocolate mug, "five presidential candidates, engaging in public meetings and rallies across the country, will stimulate the economy, encouraging people to spend money. Now, upon further reflection, five might be rather generous. Three should suffice. So, my dear Raphael," a faint, almost conspiratorial smile touched his lips, "are you ready? In a mere matter of months, Ascaria will hold its very first closed election in its entire history."

Oh my God… Whom in the blazes did I marry? What in the unholy hell is his power? His reach? His influence?

"Okay… okay…" I managed, my voice still slightly shaky. "Before I choke on my own spit again, yeah? Explain this to me. Explain it like you're talking to a… a slightly bewildered high school graduate. What exactly does 'procuring' presidential candidates even entail? And what in the name of all that is holy is a 'closed election'?" I braced myself, expecting a convoluted explanation filled with economic jargon and political doublespeak.

"Truly astounding, Raphael," Levi murmured, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "A 'closed election' simply means that people will cast their votes in a private booth, ensuring their choices remain confidential. It is not some… malicious scheme, as I suspect you were initially envisioning."

He paused, taking a slow sip of his hot chocolate. "Procuring presidential candidates is also remarkably straightforward. I will identify competent individuals, and if they consent to being a candidate, they will be. I mean…" He set his mug down, a touch of genuine curiosity in his expression. "Excuse my bluntness, my dear Raphael, but what precisely was transpiring within that… remarkable head of yours to elicit such a dramatic reaction?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the impending headache. "Why a 'closed election,' though? And what exactly does a 'competent' individual mean to you? Like… is it code for someone who will obey your every whim, no questions asked, completely?"

Levi leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "A closed election, Raphael, is simply a contemporary and widely accepted method of conducting elections in a modern democracy. Every citizen's vote is entirely confidential. Therefore," he gestured with a hand, "the populace will hopefully refrain from engaging in widespread purges across the entire country over their various 'ideological differences.' There are other, perhaps more 'moralistic' ways to elaborate on the virtues of a secret ballot, but I believe your inherent understanding of fairness grasps the fundamental principle."

He paused, his gaze direct. "My dear Raphael, if my objective was merely to install a puppet president, I assure you I would not bother staging a national election. The logistical complexities alone would be… tedious. Furthermore," a hint of genuine distaste flickered across his features, "do you honestly believe I would derive any genuine amusement from individuals simply 'obeying' me? It would be a profoundly boring state of affairs if the president of Ascaria lacked the intellectual capacity and personal fortitude to occasionally… step up to me and offer a dissenting opinion. On another note," he continued, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation, "consent means precisely that: consent. If a prospective individual does not freely and unequivocally wish to be a presidential candidate, then they will not be. Do you require any further… clarification on these seemingly straightforward concepts?"

Okay, okay, deep breaths, Raphael. He actually… makes sense. The closed election thing… alright, that's standard. Prevents intimidation, keeps things fair. And the puppet president? Tedious logistics? Leave it to Levi to frame absolute power as a scheduling inconvenience. But… boring? That actually tracks. Maybe the whole 'procuring' thing isn't as sinister as my sleep-deprived brain immediately conjured.

"What, precisely, is it that you want from a 'competent' individual in this… presidential role, Levi?

Levi tapped his fingers, his gaze distant for a moment. "That, my dear Raphael, is a rather interesting question, and one that warrants a somewhat lengthy exposition. Let us designate our hypothetical ideal candidate as 'X.' Firstly, X will absolutely not be from the noble bloodline. Not under any circumstances. I did not personally dismantle their archaic system of entitlement only to reinstate it through the backdoor. X's educational background should ideally fall within the realms of law, economics, public or business administration, or international relations. Currently, given Ascaria's fragile state, a strong legal background offers the most robust chance of preventing its descent into chaos. Furthermore, X should not be a person inclined to abuse their power. Therefore, an individual of considerable personal wealth is preferable, as they would theoretically have less incentive to pilfer public funds or accept bribes. However," his gaze sharpened, focusing intently on me, "the most crucial attribute, Raphael, is that this individual 'must' possess spine and backbone. I have no desire for a puppet president in Ascaria. I require an individual who is capable of engaging in intellectual sparring and even outright disagreement with me. I need a leader who understands that sole reliance on my guidance is ultimately futile. I need someone capable of making their own informed decisions, even if those decisions occasionally clash with my own. The real question you are likely pondering, Raphael, is why I am undertaking this endeavor at all, is it not? The answer, in its purest form, is this: I birthed this nascent democracy, and it would be an utter injustice if Ascaria were left without a president, a leader to guide it, a beacon of hope for its future."

Okay, so no blue bloods, check. Someone book smart, preferably a lawyer – makes sense, given the legal mess Ascaria probably is right now. Rich, so less likely to be corrupt – cynical, but statistically… maybe? But the spine thing, the backbone… that's the part that feels the most… Levi. He doesn't want a yes-man. He wants someone who can push back.

"So, you're basically looking for a mini-you," I summarized, a wry twist to my lips, "someone intelligent and independent enough to run the country without setting it on fire, but still ultimately… operating within your orbit. It doesn't sound completely insane, I'll give you that much. But 'procuring' these paragons of virtue? That's still the part that makes me deeply, deeply uneasy."

Levi leaned back, a predatory gleam entering his eyes. "Ah, 'procure.' Perhaps my choice of words lacked a certain… delicate nuance for your sensibilities, my dear Raphael. Think of it as a refined selection process. I shall extend invitations for a… private dinner. During our stimulating conversation, I may employ certain… persuasive techniques to gauge their suitability. If they manage to maintain a modicum of composure and, shall we say, control of their bodily functions throughout our exchange, then… voilà. We have a promising candidate." He punctuated the last word with a flourish of his hand.

So… let me get this straight. Levi's grand strategy for finding the leader involves inviting people over for dinner and then… psychologically torturing them until their bladder control is the primary metric for their suitability? What is this life I am living? How can one single individual be this… utterly contradictory? One moment, he's espousing the virtues of a fair election and a president with a backbone, the next, he's outlining a recruitment process that sounds like a stress test designed by a villain.

It's… perplexing. Though, according to that book about neurodivergence, individuals like Levi might not process 'morality' in the same way neurotypical people do. But they often possess a remarkably strong sense of other principles. Levi, for instance, has always had something akin to… 'justice.' A skewed, Levi-centric version of it, perhaps, but a guiding principle nonetheless. Maybe this bizarre dinner party isn't just about finding someone who can withstand his intimidation; maybe it's his twisted way of testing their resolve, their inner strength, their capacity to stand up for what they believe in, even when facing him.

Wow… reading books… it actually… helps. Like, genuinely illuminates the bizarre landscape that is Levi's mind. Shit. I should have swallowed my pride and actually read them months ago. All those confusing contradictions, the seemingly random acts of kindness mixed with casual tyranny… maybe there's a pattern in the chaos after all. Months of bewildered frustration, and the answer might have been sitting on my bedside table the whole time.

"So…" I mused. "The future of Ascaria hinges on finding an individual who possesses the sheer audacity to not be terrified of you, Levi? Someone with enough backbone to occasionally tell you 'no' and not just immediately dissolve into a quivering mess of fear and compliance? Someone who wouldn't simply indulge your every whim?"

"Precisely, my astute Raphael," Levi affirmed, a flicker of genuine approval in his eyes. "A puppet president would necessitate my constant, behind-the-scenes manipulation, effectively making me a shadow president. And as I've mentioned previously, micromanaging the intricacies of governance is… truly tedious."

What a bizarre and utterly incomprehensible tableau we presented. It was nearly impossible to reconcile the subtle terror he could inspire with his apparent weakness for all things sweet. Fucking sugar. The silent architect of potential national policy, fueled by cocoa and enough sweetener to induce a diabetic coma.

"Levi…" I began, my voice a low, incredulous murmur. "Excuse my frankly inadequate grasp of the sheer, mind-boggling scale of what you just casually laid out, but… what the actual fuck are you? Like… what are you? You're sitting there, calmly sipping what looks like melted chocolate fudge, telling me you want a president with a spine, someone who won't be your puppet. My brain… it's refusing to connect these two images. It's like trying to reconcile quantum physics with a children's nursery rhyme. What are you, Levi?”

"A question that has plagued philosophers and bewildered mortals for millennia. In my current, rather specific context? I am merely a concerned citizen of Ascaria with a penchant for overly sweet beverages and a desire for a functional government."

"No, no, Levi. That's… that's not what I'm asking," I insisted, waving a hand dismissively. "I mean… how? How are you this influential? This… powerful? One minute you're a recluse with a sweet tooth, the next you're casually restructuring the entire political landscape of a nation. Where does this… power even come from?"

Levi leaned back again, a thoughtful expression returning to his face. "Ascaria is a rather small nation compared to its neighbors, Raphael. That inherent scale makes it… more amenable to influence. But power, as you correctly identify, is a different matter entirely. There is one simple key, Raphael. Data. Information. That is the fundamental source. Nothing else truly compares. There are, of course, supplementary aspects – a degree of charisma, perhaps, a certain level of intellect. However," his gaze sharpened, "since I am… devoid of the encumbrance of emotions such as guilt, shame, or the paralyzing weight of societal expectations, instead of crumbling under the pressure of responsibility, as many other individuals are prone to do, I simply… don't."

Data. Of course. It always comes back to that with him. And the lack of guilt, shame… that's the ultimate cheat code, isn't it? No internal brakes, no emotional baggage to slow him down. And the 'charisma, intellect' as supplementary? He's downplaying it.

"So…" I murmured, the pieces finally clicking into a disturbing sort of alignment. "Your… neurodivergence, this way your mind processes the world, seeing people and situations as pure data… that's what ultimately led to this level of influence, this… power?"

"Yes, Raphael. On the other side of that same coin, it also made me an isolated, suicidal drug addict. Give or take, I presume."

Gods… just when I think I'm starting to understand even a fraction of him.

"This is… harder to ask than I thought it would be," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But… did rehab help you, at least with the… suicidal thoughts, and the addiction?"

Levi considered my question, his gaze drifting towards the window again, the light catching the sharp angles of his face. "I do not currently possess a desire to end my existence. Mind you," he added, his tone detached, "that may well be a fleeting state of mind. Which, in all honesty, also holds true for my sobriety. Addicts, frequently relapse. Experiencing both sobriety and a clear mind was… a rather significant revelation to me. I find a certain enjoyment in this newfound clarity, this unclouded perception. However," a subtle tightening around his eyes betrayed a hint of something akin to… discomfort? "it has also rendered a significantly lower tolerance for the… inherent complexities and often illogical nature of other people."

Yeah… he mentioned that. I can see it, simmering just beneath the surface of his controlled demeanor. It's in the clenching of his jaw, the sudden stillness in his gaze, the way his voice can drop to a dangerously low register without any apparent shift in his outward expression. It's like living near a dormant volcano.

"I am genuinely glad that you chose to move forward, Levi," I said, my voice soft. "And I want you to know, I am always here. So if those dark notions ever resurface – the self-harm, the pull of addiction, the… the thought of ending everything – please, please talk to me. It was… heart-wrenching to see you like that, Levi. That image of you… kneeling there… holding that knife…" My voice trailed off, a burning sensation rising in my chest at the memory.

"I apologize that you had to witness such a brutal image, Raphael," Levi said, his voice gaining some of its usual smooth cadence. Then, his lips curved into a dazzling smile, the kind that seemed to illuminate his entire face, chasing away any lingering shadows. "And thank you, Raphael, for offering your unwavering support and… guidance, in your own unique way. I will tell you, should those… darker inclinations resurface."

Ah, that smile again. His falling star smile. The one that could momentarily blind you with its unexpected warmth and brilliance, making you almost forget the complexities and potential darkness that lay beneath.

"Ah, that reminds me," Levi said, his gaze suddenly sharp and considering, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Perhaps… perhaps I should simply make you president, Raphael."

Fuck. This man truly has no concept of "dialing it down," does he? He casually offered me the crown of an entire nation before, and now it's the presidency?

A bark of laughter escaped me, loud and genuinely amused despite the underlying absurdity. "Thank you for the… compliment, Levi," I managed between gasps of air, shaking my head. "But last time I checked, I was still a high school graduate. And no. Absolutely, unequivocally no. I do not want to be president. Not even a little bit."

The image of myself, a glorified high school graduate, attempting to govern a nation, sent another wave of helpless laughter bubbling up from my chest.

"Hmm… Interesting." Levi's voice cut through my mirth. "It seems that you have developed a rather effective defense mechanism against my… flair for dramatic gestures."

There was something in his eyes, a subtle gleam that went beyond his usual detached observation. I could sense it, a faint but unmistakable undercurrent. It was pride. He was actually… proud of me. Proud that I hadn't been swayed by his ridiculous offer, that I had stood my ground. Shit… a warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the lingering amusement. Gods… I felt… inexplicably good right now.

The warm, fuzzy feeling of… pride? Validation? Whatever bizarre emotion Levi's unspoken approval had sparked within me abruptly curdled, replaced by a wave of profound, bewildered nausea. Why did that fleeting moment of his almost-praise feel so damn significant? So… good?

Shit. Oh, sweet gods, no. Do I… do I have daddy issues? Levi, the powerful, occasionally terrifying, yet undeniably… present figure in my life.

No, no, Raphael. Don't just dive headfirst into the absolute worst-case and cliche scenario. Think. This incredibly powerful man, a being who operates on a different plane of existence, just offered you a form of validation. Of course, a part of you would feel… something. This man, who likely views most of humanity as slightly irritating insects, just offered you a sliver of his… acceptance. But… there's this persistent, unsettling buzz in my head, a nagging feeling that won't be silenced. Being drawn to his power, his undeniable dominance, the sheer force of his will… everything keeps pointing in that direction, doesn't it? Damn it all.

Fuck. Okay, new strategy. Different angle. Think about this from literally any other perspective. Think… about the weather. Think about breakfast. Think about… I can't. My brain keeps looping back to that single, unsettling fact. The idea of Levi, him, saying "I am proud of you" makes this weird, involuntary warmth bloom in my chest, a feeling so intensely… good that I could probably punch the air with a triumphant grin. Damn it. This is so much worse than I thought.

Just as I was spiraling down the rabbit hole of my own deeply repressed psychological landscape, another of Levi's pronouncements sliced through the turbulent waters of my subconscious.

"Hm… Interesting. Such a rapid and… vibrant display of internal conflict in the span of mere moments. Initially, there was… a flicker of something akin to happiness, was there not? A brief upturn of the lips, a softening of the eyes. And then… shame? Yes, I believe the subsequent emotion was shame. Clenched fists, a rather becoming flush creeping up your neck and face, an averted gaze… Enlighten me, Raphael. What precisely precipitated this rather… colorful emotional shift?"

What the actual fuck? He practically sniffs out my emotions like a bloodhound on the scent. And what am I supposed to tell him? "Oh, you know, Levi, I just had a profound and deeply embarrassing realization about my potential daddy issues because you looked at me with a hint of approval for all of three seconds"? How pathetic would that sound? I'd rather swallow my own tongue. There's no way I'm admitting to this internal meltdown, not to him. Not to anyone.

But the damning truth is, I can't lie to him. He'd see right through it. And then? The gentle, probing questions, the thinly veiled amusement… he'd dissect my pathetic attempt at deception and probably find the whole daddy-issues revelation hilariously ironic.

Come on, brain, work with me. Spin something, anything, that doesn't involve my deeply buried psychological baggage being laid bare for Levi's intellectual entertainment. Think fast. Think… plausible. Think… anything but that.

Channeling a believable awkwardness, I let my shoulders slump slightly and offered a self-deprecating smile. "Realizing how utterly out of my depth I am in this conversation, probably," I mumbled, avoiding his piercing gaze. "You're casually discussing the intricacies of running an entire country, orchestrating elections. Meanwhile, the most complex decision I've made all morning is whether to have toast or cereal. It's a bit… humbling."

Well done, Raphael. Play the bewildered, slightly insecure high school graduate. It's a role I know all too well. Gods… please let it land. Please let him buy this. Please don't let him see the tidal wave of horror currently threatening to drown me.

Levi's lack of amusement was palpable, radiating from the subtle acceleration of his finger-tapping like a silent warning. He saw right through my pathetic attempt to change the subject.

Yet, his voice remained a model of calm composure. "I do not possess a precise list of prospective individuals at this juncture, Raphael. However," his gaze flickered towards me, a hint of something calculating in its depths, "I am quite certain your… insightful observations regarding their initial presentation will be most helpful."

"W-What kind of help?"

He gestured languidly towards the kitchen with a subtle inclination of his head. "I believe I mentioned my intention to invite these potential candidates for dinner, did I not?"

Am I going to be vetting potential presidents based on their table manners? Their ability to withstand Levi's psychological torture while simultaneously navigating a multi-course meal?

"You're going to call these potential presidents… to our house?" I asked, incredulity lacing my voice. "And then proceed to scare them shitless in our living room while I… serve you dinner?" The image was so ludicrous, so utterly domestic and terrifying all at once, that it almost short-circuited my brain again.

Levi gave a theatrical sigh, a picture of wounded innocence. "My dear Raphael, you wound me with such accusations. Am I not, as I frequently remind you, a man of limited financial resources? The exorbitant cost of booking a private room in a reputable establishment is simply beyond my current means. Also," he continued, a disarming smile playing on his lips, the kind that never reached his eyes, "I said you would 'help me.' With your much-lauded empathy, your inherent goodness, and your ability to see through the often-deceptive facades people erect."

This "penniless" man, who somehow managed to subtly orchestrate the downfall of a ruling class and was now single-handedly designing a new government, was practically beaming as he laid out his utterly insane plan. He was enjoying this. Immensely.

His repeated self-deprecation, was akin to observing a hydrangea serenely and silently draw water from the soil. That's the level of amusement he derived from this elaborate charade. Truly. He reveled in the rich irony of it all: a man without funds or formal authority would soon have the most powerful individuals in the nation groveling at his feet, all within the confines of his (and, technically, my) humble abode.

"Okay, Levi," I said, a note of weary exasperation creeping into my voice. "Just… stop with the 'penniless' act, alright? You look like a smug cat sprawled in a sunbeam, savoring every single photon. And you absolutely love this, don't you? The sheer, delicious irony of it all. The man with 'no funds' summoning the future leaders of Ascaria to his doorstep. You're practically mainlining this absurdity, aren't you? You're not just drinking it like water; you're bathing in it, luxuriating in the sheer audacity of it all."

Levi threw his head back and laughed. An unrestrained sound that filled the room, unlike his usual controlled chuckles. It was the first time I'd heard him laugh like that. He was breathtaking. Strikingly handsome, an unguarded attractiveness that stole the air from my lungs.

"Ah, Raphael," he said, his voice still laced with amusement, a genuine warmth softening the sharp angles of his face. "What a perfectly astute observation. Yes, my dear. That is precisely it. It strokes my rather… substantial ego quite delightfully." He punctuated the last sentence with a playful wink.

Gods…

I saw actual sparkles, like tiny sprites dancing in the air between us. Then, the scene shifted, morphing into impossible images: vibrant flower gardens blooming in the starkest deserts, wild horses with coats like polished obsidian galloping across endless dunes under a sky swirling with amethyst and gold. It was a sensory overload, a bizarrely romantic and utterly inappropriate fantasy triggered by a single laugh and a playful wink from a man who was currently plotting to terrorize potential presidents in his living room.

"Hm… Interesting," Levi mused, his gaze sharp and knowing, a smirk playing on his lips. "One simple wink and you briefly… dissociated? Are my charms truly this potent, dear Raphael?"

My cheeks burned. "Shut up," I mumbled, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It wasn't just the wink, you… you laughed. And yeah, for a second there, it was like a mild acid trip. Sparkles, horses galloping, gardens, the whole shebang."

Levi's eyes, held a sudden softness. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a resonant tone. "Curious. When I look at you, Raphael, I see celestial bodies and the most vibrant of colors."

My blush deepened, feeling like it was radiating heat. "You… you really shouldn't say things like that," I mumbled again, betraying the tremor that ran through me.

"You told me the same, did you not?"

"Yeah, well, just… shut up, Levi," I retorted, the words sharper than intended, a desperate attempt to mask the sudden frantic hammering of my heart against my ribs. It was a deafening rhythm in my ears, drowning out everything else. Gods. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.