With my consent, Levi placed a call to Cassiel for dinner. Cassiel, a rare gem in this land – a fellow Cyrusian, the late King's consort, and a renowned art enthusiast. He was breathtaking, like a sculpted marble brought to life: a toned and broad frame, blonde hair cascading down his back to his waist, and piercing ice-blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Looking at him was like catching a glimpse of an alternative me, a sharper, more polished version.

Cassiel, a considerate guest and well aware of Levi's sobriety, had brought with him a selection of non-alcoholic, yet still vintage grape juices. While Cassiel himself was dressed in a rather polished suit that accentuated his sculpted physique, Levi lounged comfortably in his house clothes, radiating the smug contentment of a well-fed cat basking in a sunbeam.

As we sat at the dinner table, Levi swirled his drink with an air of deliberate nonchalance.

"Ah, my dear Cassiel," he drawled, his voice laced with mock humility, "you must forgive my attire. Alas, I own nothing but the humble clothes that presently adorn this… magnificent physique."

"You… you are one gigantic piece of shameless and utterly incomprehensible behavior, Blake! You…" He sputtered, his composure teetering on the brink of shattering like the glass in his hand.

There was a certain perverse amusement in witnessing this animosity, each jab landing with the precision of a stiletto.

"Oh?" Levi purred, that smug smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair. "Dear Cassiel, are you perhaps contemplating a repeat performance of that unfortunate incident at the auction? The one involving the vintage glass and my rather unfortunate forehead?"

"That glass," Cassiel hissed, his voice dangerously low, "was a relic, Blake, preserved in the Royal Halls, for my divine intervention. Because you brazenly stole my piece, with nothing but the vulgar display of your obscene wealth! You utterly shameless man."

Levi took a slow sip of his juice, a picture of utter innocence. "Ah, my dear Cassiel, you must excuse my… endless coffers of wealth. But, those days are behind me. I am merely a humble recipient, patiently awaiting my allowance while my exceedingly generous husband deigns to grant me a few… delightful indulgences." He cast a sly glance in my direction.

Now that I actually consider it… I am… technically Levi's sugar daddy now, aren't I? All those paintings, the sculptures, the sheer volume of his former collection now residing in my name… Wait a damn minute.

"And now, Blake, now? What fresh madness is this?" Cassiel demanded, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of genuine concern. "You gifted your entire collection to this… child? Why in the blazes would you do such a thing?"

Levi swirled his glass. "Ah, it seems the gossip circles, as ever, have failed to capture the finer nuances. Yes, my dear Cassiel, I was in rehab. But the prelude to that… well, let's just say I made a rather dramatic exit attempt. And in my infinite wisdom, I bequeathed my entire artistic legacy to my beloved husband. Scorched earth."

A genuine wave of sorrow softened the sharp lines of Cassiel's face. "Blake…" he murmured, his voice gentle, "all this time, beneath the cutting remarks and the relentless competition… I never wished you such profound darkness. I truly pray that you are alright now."

Levi offered a small smile. "Fret not, my dear Cassiel. To be candid, the last week has been rather… illuminating for me. No chemical haze, no numbing alcohol… It's not as if I've been reborn, but perhaps… perhaps I simply needed the silence in my own mind to finally hear myself."

Cassiel exhaled slowly, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. "I confess, Blake, your earlier words cast a rather… ominous shadow over our reunion. This… this newfound clarity is a far more welcome development indeed."

Levi clapped his hands together, a sudden shift in tone. "Now, now, let us not dwell on such somber matters and depress this rather heartfelt dinner. There is a matter of some urgency that requires our attention. You see, it has come to my attention that our precious Ascarian currency is poised for a rather dramatic downward spiral in the coming weeks. Therefore," he continued, his gaze sharp and focused, "I require the intricate network of your rivals and allies to discreetly redistribute a significant portion of our wealth before the inevitable crash."

A thoughtful expression furrowed Cassiel's brow. "My network… it is indeed extensive. But such a significant maneuver, the discreet movement of such vast sums… it would be akin to a tremor in the financial landscape, Blake. It will attract attention. What concrete assurances do you possess that this 'inevitable crash' is not merely the panicked whispers of the market, but a genuine, impending reality?"

Levi leaned forward, his earlier playfulness completely gone. "Cassiel, this isn't conjecture. This is the third day of escalating riots in the capital, a wildfire of discontent that has already begun to consume the neighboring cities. The unrest has created a temporary bubble of distraction. My recent implementation of targeted taxes on luxury goods and cosmetics has provided a small reprieve, but it is woefully insufficient. We require a far larger, more substantial breather to weather the coming storm."

"A wildfire of discontent… and we are standing on dangerously dry tinder," Cassiel reiterated. "Understood, Blake. Detail the precise amounts involved, the absolute urgency of this endeavor, and any specific preferences you have regarding the dispersal of these funds. I will leverage the full extent of my resources, but you must be transparent with all the information you possess regarding the true fragility – or utter lack thereof – of our current financial and political landscape."

Levi then proceeded to lay out his plan to Cassiel, a complex web of financial movements and strategic placements. A dizzying array of names, both familiar and obscure, were thrown around in hushed tones, the details often lost in a labyrinth of financial jargon and veiled references. To be perfectly honest, deciphering the intricacies of their conversation was a challenge. However, the underlying implication was clear: Levi's "eat the rich" philosophy, often expressed with a sardonic smirk, was now, beginning to bear fruit in a rather dramatic fashion.

A sliver of curiosity also pricked at my mind regarding Cassiel's deep understanding of such intricate economic jargon. I suppose being the late King's consort entailed far more than the superficial image I had initially conjured.

Then, the tense atmosphere around the dinner table abruptly shifted.

"Dear Cassiel," Levi purred, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly smug expression, "do enlighten us all with a truly detailed account of your feelings. Describe, if you will, the exquisite agony of being bested by a man who, until very recently, possessed absolutely no personal wealth. Please, allow me to fully savor this… delicious moment of your utter defeat."

Damn him. Even after everything, the petty jabs just kept coming.

Cassiel leaned forward, his voice a silken threat. "Savor this fleeting moment, Blake, by all means. Relish the imagined taste of my defeat. Just be certain your arrogance doesn't become a fatal obstruction when the pendulum swings back. I recognized your utter lack of shame even a decade ago, when you were barely out of your boyhood, a touch older than a pubescent youth, yet years seem to have done little to… refine your character, have they?"

Wait… a decade ago… pubescent? Cassiel knew Levi when he was twenty? How is that even possible? I always assumed they were contemporaries, locked in some kind of eternal, age-defying rivalry.

No, wait, let me actually do the mental gymnastics here. Decade ago… Cassiel is pushing forty? Forty? How in the absolute hell? He doesn't look young, not in the conventional sense. He simply… is. Ageless. No, not even ageless. Timeless. Like a preserved sculpture.

Levi leaned forward, mirroring Cassiel's posture. "A decade ago, you say? And yet, here we are. You, still clinging to past glories, and me… well, I've managed to acquire a rather impressive husband and, oh yes, and the entire art collection you tried to acquire. Progress, wouldn't you say?"

Cassiel’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, and I could see the sharp retort forming on his lips.

So, what's the easiest way to diffuse tension in such moments? Simple. Embrace the awkward.

"Wait, Cassiel," I interjected loudly. "Don't even bother answering Levi; he's practically purring over there, basking in his pathetic little victory. Instead…" I turned to him, my voice deliberately earnest, "You're forty, Cassiel? How in the actual hell is that possible?"

Cassiel chuckled softly, a genuine amusement coloring his demeanor. "Unfortunately for my youthful aspirations, yes, I am indeed forty. The relentless march of time, as they say. I do appreciate your… surprise. It's always gratifying to know one hasn't completely succumbed to the ravages of age."

Levi, seized the moment. "You see, Cassiel? Observe how effortlessly my husband diffused a potentially volatile situation in mere seconds with a simple, albeit somewhat blunt, inquiry. And yet," he sighed dramatically, "I suggested he extend a welcoming hand to the visiting foreign envoys and he flatly refuses.”

Damn him and his theatrics. Even his compliments were dripping with dramatic flair. Not a simple, "You handled that well, dear," but a grandiose pronouncement. The sheer ridiculousness of it all was almost… endearing. The smug bastard.

Cassiel waved a dismissive hand, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at my flushed face. "Cease your relentless teasing, Blake. You may have relinquished your ducal title, but the imperious tone remains stubbornly intact."

...

Levi with a quiet grace he served us dessert. Fresh figs nestled against a cloud of sweet, pillowy whipped cream, all resting on a crisp, golden waffle base. At first, the seemingly simple dessert didn't quite register. But then it clicked. He knew both Cassiel and I would typically savor such a treat with a fine wine.

What an incredibly considerate man, indeed.

Cassiel’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "My dear Blake, this is… surprisingly thoughtful. The figs are perfectly ripe, and the cream has just the right touch of sweetness. A delightful pairing with the juice, I must say."

Levi lifted his glass towards Cassiel and me. "Your consideration regarding my sobriety is duly noted, my dear Cassiel. Though," he added, a playful glint returning, "I wouldn't classify my previous indulgences as full-blown alcoholism. More of a… dedicated exploration of altered states and a rigorous testing of my personal limits with various delightful concoctions. This current sobriety is merely the next fascinating experiment in my ongoing quest for self-discovery."

Ah, this charmingly incorrigible devil. An "experiment," he calls it. I'm fairly certain it's just a thinly veiled excuse to indulge his bluntness, conveniently pinning any social awkwardness on his newfound sobriety.

I raised my own glass, a small smile playing on my lips, and clinked it against his. Cassiel, let out a soft, knowing chuckle.

"Ah, speaking of experiments and new beginnings, Blake," Cassiel said, a mischievous glint suddenly sparking in his ice-blue eyes, "I brought a small token for you. Though I suspect it will prove to be rather… tormenting for our dear Raphael."

My heart started to pound.

Cassiel rose from the table and retrieved a large, black box. What could possibly be inside that ominous-looking thing? What exactly is happening right now? Levi, the infuriatingly unhelpful bastard, was clearly amused by whatever game Cassiel was playing, but even his smug expression held a hint of genuine curiosity. He didn't know either. This cannot be good.

Cassiel presented the box with a flourish, a dramatic pause before untying the thick satin ribbon. With a theatrical reveal, he lifted the lid. And you know what was inside, don't you? Can you even begin to guess the sheer audacity of these two? Fuck them both.

It was a crown, nestled beside a velvet royal cape trimmed with ermine. Fuck. These eccentric, art-obsessed billionaires. I remembered now, with a sinking feeling, their ridiculous pronouncements from the last dinner. Fuck my life.

Levi dramatically pressed the heels of his hands to his cheeks, his expression a picture of exaggerated shock. "Ah, by the Gods, Cassiel, you have absolutely no idea how much I appreciate this truly… magnificent gesture."

Cassiel offered a satisfied chuckle. "Consider it a symbolic token, Blake, marking the definitive end of our long and… colorful rivalry. Mind you," he added, his gaze sweeping over the crown and cape with obvious pride, "this is no mere regal attire that has graced the form of that well-fed monarch swine. This was crafted by the most exquisite artisans, adorned with truly priceless jewels. Even the late King himself would have likely harbored a touch of envy."

Fuck my entire life. Fuck both of them. What? They expect me to wear this thing and parade around the house?

The crown itself was breathtaking. It was crafted from gleaming gold, the metal worked into delicate filigree patterns and adorned with a profusion of jewels. Massive sapphires, like captured starlight, alternated with fiery rubies. Emeralds, cool and serene, punctuated the design. And then there were the diamonds, hundreds of them, each cut to catch and refract the light, creating a dazzling display of brilliance. The cape, too, was magnificent, a rich, crimson velvet that seemed to absorb the light, trimmed with a thick band of white ermine.

How much did this even cost? My mind reeled at the sheer opulence of it all. Oh, Gods… and this is a gift? A gift for whom, exactly?

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Levi, rose from his chair and embraced Cassiel. A genuine, heartfelt hug. Levi hugged someone? My eyebrows shot up. Damn. Despite the bizarre circumstances and the ludicrous crown and cape, they actually looked… breathtaking. Cassiel, tall and statuesque, with his pale blonde hair, and Levi, a vibrant contrast with his dark features, the fabrics of the royal attire catching the light between them.

But beneath the surface of my polite observation, something ugly was beginning to churn. Jealousy. That guest that had cast a hazy film over the last dinner. It was back, insidious and unwelcome. Watching them, Cassiel and Levi, standing there, a picture of unexpected, almost regal harmony… they did fit well together, in a strange, powerful way. Fuck. Stop it, brain. Just shut up.

Cassiel was visibly taken aback. "Blake?" he questioned, a hint of amusement lacing his voice. "Has this sobriety of yours addled your brain entirely? This is… unprecedented. Although," he conceded, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "I suppose the culmination of a decade-long, often acrimonious rivalry might necessitate such… sentimental displays."

Levi, waved a dismissive hand, breaking the hug with a characteristic flourish. "Nonsense! My embrace had little to do with our past squabbles. It was a gesture of pure gratitude because you, my astute friend, remembered my deep-seated desire to see Raphael adorned in a crown. And you are absolutely correct," he added, his gaze now fixed on the gleaming regalia, "this one is infinitely more… aesthetically pleasing than that dusty old royal thing Raphael so rejected."

Oh, for the love of… It's a bloody crown! What am I supposed to do with it? Wear it while I do the dishes?

Levi didn’t touch the crown, but the intensity of his gaze was a tangible pressure, a silent, unwavering invitation – no, a command – to place that ridiculous, beautiful thing upon my head.

"Fuck off, Levi," I hissed through my clenched teeth. "I am not wearing this ludicrous contraption! And Cassiel," I demanded, turning my bewildered gaze to him, "why in the hell would you indulge his utterly bizarre obsession like this?"

Cassiel offered a nonchalant shrug, his lips curving into an elegant smile. "For the same reason Blake harbored this… persistent fantasy regarding the other crown. Because, quite simply, it would look utterly divine on you."

Damn these men. These impossibly handsome, utterly weird, breathtakingly eccentric, art-obsessed men. Damn them and their unwavering, intense gazes. Their eyes weren't even fixed on the ludicrously expensive crown anymore, no. They were both looking at me. Damn it all… my entire body was ablaze with an unbearable wave of mortification.

I pressed my palms firmly against my burning cheeks. Cassiel, rose from his chair and stood beside Levi. Their combined gaze was unnerving, piercing, as if they were dissecting my very being. It was a bizarrely detached look, the kind one might reserve for appraising a particularly rare and valuable piece of art. But in my flustered, overheated mind, they appeared as a striking dichotomy: an ethereal angel and a darkly alluring devil, standing shoulder to shoulder, their hands seemingly outstretched towards me, a silent, utterly unbelievable invitation. What a ludicrous, utterly improbable notion. What the absolute fuck was going on in this dining room?

"The actual fuck is wrong with you both?" I finally managed to stammer out.

Levi, offered a disarming smile. "Ah, we are simply appreciating the… exquisite beauty before us."

My entire body felt like it was radiating heat, a blush creeping down my neck and across my chest. Fuck these two incredibly handsome, utterly infuriating men.

"The little angel appears to be rather flushed, Blake," Cassiel observed. "Are you still depriving him of affection?"

Levi, oblivious or deliberately ignoring my discomfort, beamed. "Oh, no, nothing of the sort. I was initially contemplating acquiring the actual royal crown, but you wisely suggested I invest in the works of living, breathing artists instead. And now I see the brilliance of your counsel. My Raphael," he declared, his gaze sweeping over me with affection, "would look utterly ethereal, a vision descended from the heavens, adorned in this magnificent crown and cape."

So this about them seeing me as some beautiful object to be adorned and admired. And the fact that a tiny, pathetic part of me is actually… curious to see what it looks like… Shut up, brain. Just shut up.

"I am not some object for you two to simply adore, okay? Just shut up, both of you!" I barked.

Levi and Cassiel both actually looked taken aback, a genuine offense crossing their composed features.

"Object?" Levi questioned, his tone softening. "My dear Raphael, you misunderstand our intentions entirely. We are not merely observing a… human. We are beholding breathing, living art. A masterpiece, sculpted by the very forces of existence, a carved yet vibrant marble statue brought to life. So, please, excuse our momentarily stunned admiration."

Damn… Damn his poetic mouth. I have to admit, even through the embarrassment and the annoyance, a tiny, traitorous part of me… kind of likes that. Fuck everything.

Cassiel moved closer, and placed his warm palm on my forehead. "Ah," he murmured, his voice soothing, "please excuse the rather… unrestrained enthusiasm of these two men. But try to understand, Raphael. Anyone else attempting to wear such… dramatic pieces would appear ridiculous, a mere costume. But we know, with absolute certainty, that on you, it would transcend mere adornment. It would be art, personified."

Gods, why do they have to be so… persuasive? It's working. A tiny crack in my 'absolutely not' wall just appeared. Art, personified. Me? The image flickers in my mind, and… damn it, it does look kind of… magnificent. Stop it, Raphael! Don't fall for their games. But… art. Personified. It's a powerful image. Maybe… just maybe… for a second? No. Absolutely not. But… art.

Just as my traitorous mind was beginning to paint vivid pictures of myself adorned in the crown and cape, Cassiel leaned in, his warm breath ghosting near my ear, and dropped a line in fluent Cyrusian.

"I know for certain your Ascarian husband will be imagining you in this very attire tonight, Raphael, indulging in rather… unholy fantasies."

I shot back in rapid Cyrusian, "Please, Cassiel, just close your mouth. I swear, I'm going to combust."

Cassiel merely chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, but you already knew it to be true, didn't you? Just look at your husband, Raphael. He's practically vibrating with anticipation. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already envisioning you in it, perhaps even begging for the…privilege of your regal presence on his knees."

Cassiel straightened up, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he met Levi's curious gaze. He said smoothly in Cyrusian, "You needn't trouble yourself on my account, Raphael. However," he paused, his eyes flicking back to mine, "do ask your husband… later tonight."

Make Levi… beg? On his knees? My breath hitched slightly.

I can make him… beg on his knees… Now I understand why they call him… love doctor, orchestrating desires with a few well-chosen words. You manipulative bastard. And damn me for the sudden, undeniable thrill that thought just ignited.

Levi’s right eye narrowed slightly as he observed the exchange in a language he couldn’t comprehend.

Could Levi, the ever-composed, often imperious Levi, truly be brought to beg? And more unsettlingly, could I be the one to elicit such a display?

"Cassiel," he inquired, a hint of playful suspicion in his voice, "what exactly did you whisper into my Raphael's ear? He looks… almost convinced to don the crown."

Cassiel responded with an exaggeratedly formal bow. “Merely extending the customary courtesy one affords a King’s consort, Your Excellency.”

Almost convinced? Gods, I hate how easily they can get under my skin. That little flicker of… curiosity… it's still there. Damn them both.

After the initial awkwardness and veiled manipulations, we exchanged polite farewells. Levi, engaged Cassiel in a hushed conversation about economic forecasts and trade agreements in the hallway before Cassiel finally departed with a knowing glance in my direction. But the seed Cassiel had so casually planted had taken root in the fertile ground of my mind. I can make Levi beg

. I can do that. I want that. The image of Levi, usually so composed and commanding, humbled before me...

...

A full day drifted by. He hadn't explicitly requested I wear it after Cassiel's departure, but I sensed a subtle shift in his demeanor. He was looking for ways to convince me, I surmised, just as I was exploring the possibility myself.

The afternoon stretched before me, a monotonous expanse of inane sitcoms flickering on the television screen. Levi was sequestered in his study, no doubt locked in a fierce battle with the intricacies of the economy.

According to Finn, Levi’s newest assistant, one of ten rather wide-eyed and unfortunate souls, their current focus was solely on the labyrinthine world of law. Just a few days prior, in a moment of perhaps misguided helpfulness, I'd suggested Levi enlist the aid of every eager law student in the country. He'd surprisingly agreed, and now, those ten assistants were likely buried under a mountain of legal papers submitted by thousands of aspiring lawyers.

But then Finn had called, claiming he was in dire need of my intervention. Apparently, Levi's new cohort of legal eagles were, to put it mildly, petrified. Finn wanted me to tutor these poor souls on the delicate art of navigating Levi's… intense personality. Yeah, great. How in the hell was I supposed to solve that particular puzzle? Teach people not to be intimidated by the man who could make even seasoned diplomats sweat? This was going to be… interesting.

We were on a crackling phone call with a clearly stressed Finn. "Look," I said, my tone turning a touch more serious, "Levi is mostly a deranged bastard, yeah? He definitely enjoys wielding that control, but not over people he perceives as 'fragile' or easily broken. His… peculiar brand of entertainment involves dismantling the egos of monarchs, nobles, the obscenely wealthy – not ordinary, hardworking individuals. There's a sick and twisted sense of justice in that, believe it or not. But… I'm sure some friction will inevitably arise over time. Tell those assistants to reach out to me, or to you, immediately if anything goes sideways, yeah? I'll do my best to diffuse the situation somehow."

"Right, deranged but with a weird moral compass. Target the top one percent, respect the underlings. Got it. It's still terrifying, but at least it's understandable terrifying… Thanks for the speed dial.”

"Exactly, Finn," I affirmed. "Think of it in a more simplistic way. Why would a lion bother hunting a mouse? He'd be utterly bored. I mean, yeah, it's a bit incomprehensible to us folk, but knowing Levi's peculiar… inclinations, those assistants will be fine. As long as they demonstrate competence."

Wow… I'm actually quite good at this, aren't I? Do I actually have a knack for this sort of diplomatic dance?

Now, back to the far more pressing and personally intriguing matters: the crown and making Levi beg.

This was the fourth day of the local unrest, and it was steadily losing steam. Compared to the truly visceral and destructive riots I'd witnessed in Cyrusia, this was practically a polite disagreement. Minimal vandalism, barely a whisper of police brutality. Honestly, it was almost… quaint.

Just as the echoes of my surprisingly successful call with Finn faded, Levi emerged from his study and descended the stairs.

"Levi?" I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice. "I heard you managed to reduce your new assistants to whimpering wrecks with a mere phone call."

"It was utterly tedious, Raphael. I did not even raised my voice. I simply outlined the legal parameters of their tasks, and they… recoiled. It was quite pathetic, really."

Yeah… I was right. He enjoys the control, but only when it's earned. Then Levi, with a weary sigh that somehow still managed to exude a certain regal air, sank down beside me. He leaned back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, a picture of a powerful lion profoundly bored with its surroundings.

Levi pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Fear," he murmured with disdain. "This base, utterly singular emotion. Over what, Raphael? I am aware that neurotypical individuals often exhibit a predisposition towards fearing the unfamiliar, particularly when confronted with neurodivergent patterns of thought and behavior. The studies indicate a seventy percent likelihood of such a recoil response, rooted, I understand, in evolutionary predispositions towards caution. But… I did nothing untoward. I merely articulated the parameters of their assigned tasks with clarity and precision…"

He genuinely doesn't get it. It's almost endearing in its obliviousness.

"Levi," I said softly, letting my hand rest on his stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath my palm. "Look, yes, your way of thinking plays a part in their reaction, I can't deny that. But it's not the only explanation. You see, you are an incredibly influential and powerful person, Levi. That alone carries a certain weight. And then there's your aura of absolute calm, that almost serene focus when you're dissecting complex legal frameworks. It's not perceived as calming, Levi; it's also intimidating. Because the mind likely reasons, 'This man is this composed while battling centuries of laws – what else is he capable of?' It creates a sense of immense, almost unknowable power. But," I reassured him, gently stroking his side, "I know you. I know your intentions, and you didn't mean to cause them distress."

Levi continued to stare at the intricate plasterwork above. "I understand," he murmured, processing my explanation. "Even competence, presented with sufficient… intensity, becomes a source of apprehension, I assume. They truly are like insects, aren't they? Finally presented with something beyond their familiar tiny world, and their instinct is to flee. Well," a hint of his usual dry wit returned, "perhaps if they manage to survive my directives for a full month, I might even be inclined to elevate their status to that of… rats. A significant evolutionary leap, wouldn't you agree?"

That's… almost encouraging. He's not entirely dismissing their reaction.

"You are incredibly lucky that I happen to appreciate your rather… unique brand of dark humor, Levi," I said, a small, wry smile playing on my lips. "But… do you truly not see them as… human beings?"

Levi simply shrugged. "No. Bags of meat and bones, functioning through a series of chemical and electrical impulses. Nothing more. They do not elicit any discernible reaction or emotion within me. Most of the time," he added, almost as an afterthought, "even their individual faces fail to register as distinct entities."

Faces don't register… It's a paradox, this man. Wait. A sudden flash of insight illuminated the puzzle.

"Ah… I think I might actually have an idea…" I mused aloud, a note of dawning understanding in my voice. "It's… your indifference, isn't it? You genuinely wouldn't care, on a fundamental level, whether these assistants are alive or not, as long as the legal work gets done. So, your brain simply doesn't prioritize registering their individual features, their humanity. Wow…" I trailed off, a touch of awe in my tone. "Shit. Reading all those psychology books is actually starting to pay off."

"You are half right, my dear," Levi conceded. "It is indeed rooted in my indifference, but it is also inextricably linked to my arrogance, and perhaps a touch of truly gigantic ego. It took me the better part of two solid decades to even begin to comprehend that other people also possess rich inner lives and complex thought processes. It often feels… as though they have not quite earned that level of cognitive intricacy."

It's infuriating and… oddly fascinating at the same time.

Levi finally broke his gaze from the ceiling. "Ah, my allotted midday respite is rapidly drawing to a close, Raphael. Duty calls; I must return to the confines of my study and wrestle with the infuriatingly illogical forces that are currently propelling our national currency into a precipitous downward spiral, lest we all, quite literally, wither and perish in approximately five years due to economic collapse. Ah…" he trailed off, the very air around him seeming to droop with his utter and complete boredom.

My magnificent lion, forced to chase after invisible economic mice instead of basking in the sun. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

"Okay, Levi…" I said, "since you're a penniless man, how about I order you a selection of desserts? You can indulge after dinner. Consider it a small… economic stimulus package, courtesy of your loving husband."

This feeling… it's definitely brewing. Am I inadvertently becoming Levi's sugar daddy? The irony is almost too delicious. Pun absolutely intended.

"Your strategic approach to maintaining domestic harmony appears to be evolving, Raphael," Levi conceded, a rare twinkle in his eye. "Bribery for the preservation of tranquility. Consider me… intensely interested. And do ensure," he added, a hint of playful command in his voice, "that they include a rather excessive amount of sweetness."

Oh, he's catching on. My subtle manipulations are becoming transparent. But he's intrigued. That's the key. And the excessive sweetness… well, that's just Levi being Levi.