As the water bubbled merrily in the kettle, Levi tapped his fingers. "Now, Minister," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of impatient authority, "ask your questions. I will endeavor to articulate the intricacies of our current situation in terms even your… uniquely challenged cognitive faculties might grasp."

Gods, this man. The insults just keep flowing.

"Why… why are you doing this? Why the need for such drastic changes? What was so wrong with the way things were before?" the Minister asked, his voice tinged with a last vestige of bewildered resistance.

Levi let out a suffering sigh. "Because, you utter fool, applying band-aids to a gangrene doesn't work. You have to excise the infected limb before it poisons the entire organism. What is currency, Minister? Countries are living beings, and money is their lifeblood. What happens when that blood is tainted, sluggish, lacking vital oxygen? The body withers and dies. Since our transition from monarchy to democracy, the very foundation of our financial system, our currency, has been fundamentally unstable. Which even you, I assume, with your particularly limited intellect, could glean from the perpetually flashing red charts on your monitor. How many initiatives have I spearheaded in the last two weeks alone? Can you even count them on your fingers? Forget the sweeping reforms; even those weren't enough to staunch the bleeding. What do you do when a currency is so antiquated, so fundamentally flawed, that it can barely stay afloat? You get rid of it. You implement a new, vital system. That is the grand design, you idiot. The rest is mere logistics and bureaucratic minutiae, tasks with which your particular brand of… meticulousness will, I'm sure, find itself delightfully engaged."

I placed the tray on the table, the clinking of porcelain a momentary interruption in the tense atmosphere, and settled into the chair beside Levi's. The Minister, his voice still tinged with anxiety, broke the silence. "And the chaos… you really think it will be manageable? People's savings… their livelihoods… are at stake. What safeguards are in place?"

Levi blew on the steam, his gaze never leaving the Minister. "Even the sweetest indulgence wouldn't be enough to soothe your persistent anxieties, would it, Minister?" he remarked dryly. "Given my current state of virtuous sobriety – a full ten weeks, a veritable eternity for a man of my former proclivities – I find myself alarmingly close to simply incinerating you for your tiresome pessimism. But alas," he sighed, turning to me with an almost desperate look, "cigarettes, dear? Quickly, please. I fear I might spontaneously combust like a poorly wired explosive device if I don't acquire some immediate… external regulation."

The moment the flame kissed the end, a visible tremor seemed to subside in his frame. He inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around his head.

"Of course it is going to be chaos, you blithering idiot," Levi exhaled. "Did you ever bother to crack open a single economic textbook in your utterly wasted academic career and actually read about the monumental undertaking of a currency change? It's not a casual week of brainstorming, you unintelligent vermin. We are talking about a nationwide operation. We have to physically gather every single archaic coin, melt it down, recycle the base metals, and then print an entirely new physical currency. All while simultaneously incentivizing and educating the populace to transition their hard-earned savings into a digital format, and, as a delightful cherry on top, ensuring the already volatile stock market doesn't implode into a screaming digital void of financial ruin. What fantastical delusion led you to believe this would be some sort of leisurely picnic? For either of us? Do you have even the faintest inkling of the sheer, mind-numbing tedium and bureaucratic nightmares that await? When you finally manage to crawl back to whatever hole you call home, I suggest you dust off those long-forgotten textbooks. Perhaps, just perhaps, they might offer a fleeting glimpse into the monumental task at hand, a task your infinitesimal brain seems utterly incapable of grasping." Levi punctuated his tirade with another sharp drag on his cigarette.

The Minister paused, a deep furrow creasing his brow as he visibly wrestled with the enormity of Levi's pronouncements. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a genuine concern that cut through the earlier fear. "So, you acknowledge the chaos then. But you seem to view it as a necessary evil, a hurdle to overcome. But what about the people who will be caught in the crossfire? Small business owners, families living paycheck to paycheck… their lives will be thrown into turmoil. What measures are in place to protect them, to cushion the blow? Saying it's just 'logistics and bureaucratic minutiae' feels incredibly dismissive of the very real suffering this could cause."

Ouch. Bringing up the human cost to Levi… that felt like poking a particularly sensitive, and potentially explosive beast.

"Gods… Did the rather graphic gangrene analogy completely elude your grasp, Minister? A month of manageable turmoil now is a sight better than watching the entire organism decompose into dust a year hence. What is so fundamentally difficult to comprehend about that basic principle? We are administering anesthetic for this necessary excision. Delaying it by three months, as your… cautious approach would have dictated, would mean performing the amputation with a rusty saw and no pain relief whatsoever. Furthermore," he continued, a strategic glint entering his eyes, "this country still languishes without a president. Our strategy is thus: we release the currency change initiative first, allowing the populace a period of… shall we say, calibration. Then, as the initial shock subsides and the new system begins to take root, we launch the presidential campaign. This neatly orchestrates a nationwide surge in spending as people celebrate the new leadership and, by extension, the revitalized economy. A simultaneous commemoration of both presidency and currency change, flooding the streets with the new currency. Ingenious, wouldn't you agree?" Levi punctuated his explanation with a plume of smoke.

Ah, there it is. The grand reveal, delivered with his usual flair for the dramatic. "Rusty saw" – lovely imagery. He really does see the populace as a single organism to be treated, doesn't he? And the presidential campaign tie-in… classic Levi. Use one crisis to launch another opportunity. It's efficient, I'll give him that.

"The presidential campaign… using the currency change to fuel support… it's… strategically sound, I suppose," the Minister conceded, a reluctant admiration warring. "But what if the 'calibration' period goes wrong? What if the public doesn't react as you anticipate? What's the contingency plan for that kind of chaos?"

"The worst-case scenario, predictably, will be the emergence of a robust black market," Levi stated, exhaling a plume of smoke. "That will require immediate and decisive cauterization. Secondly, you seem to underestimate the populace. The recent… unrest has, in its own crude way, prepared them for a significant shift. They are already anticipating change, so their reluctance will be far less entrenched than your pessimistic pronouncements suggest. The true nightmare, the logistical knot we must untangle, lies in the volume of printing and distributing the new currency across the nation. Therefore, a two-way system is paramount. Our considerable national gold reserve will be the cornerstone of this endeavor. And, in a rare stroke of ministerial non-interference, your collective incompetence in accumulating international debt actually works in our favor. The rest, my dear Minister, is merely… persuasive narrative. Strategic media manipulation. We will aggressively encourage early adoption of the new currency, perhaps through temporary incentives such as lowered taxes or bonus payments for early digital transactions – incentives, naturally, strategically timed and subtly linked to the upcoming presidential election. Do I truly need to spell out every rudimentary detail? I had hoped even your… uniquely grounded intellect could grasp the fundamental elegance of this design."

I blinked in rapid succession. "L-Levi…" I stammered, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up. "Did you… did you conceive all of this… in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Yes," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "And I skipped most of the truly tedious details. Wouldn't want to bore you with the intricacies of gold reserve allocation or the algorithms for digital currency incentives."

"Twenty-four hours? With that level of detail? Forgive me, but that strains credulity, even for you, Levi," the Minister said, his skepticism palpable. "Surely this has been… gestating for longer than that? Or are you truly capable of such… instantaneous strategic mastery?"

Levi stubbed out his cigarette. "Ask my husband then, if you doubt my capabilities," he stated, a hint of pride entering his voice. "The rather… uninspired illumination regarding the currency change struck me yesterday. I was idly rereading my chemistry notes when it hit me. What do you do when the equation you're working with stubbornly refuses to yield the desired results? You flip it. Reverse the variables. Change the fundamental approach. That's all there is to it."

Yeah… the realization practically sent him into an intellectual orgasm. And knowing him, he's telling the absolute truth. There's a distinct possibility he formulated at least half of this audacious plan while pounding into me. But that's a detail I'll keep discreetly to myself.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Yesterday… you conceived of all this yesterday? I've been losing sleep for weeks over the mere possibility of such a change!" the Minister bellowed, his voice a mixture of awe and utter despair.

"Cease your sniveling," Levi commanded, pride gone, leaving to ice. "Before I grant you the privilege of leaving my home unscathed, allow me to reiterate something with absolute clarity, Minister. If you so much as dare to breathe a whisper of your pathetic attempt to bug my residence to another soul, or even entertain the faintest notion of shirking your responsibilities by seeking pity or intervention from others, I will personally ensure that you will scream the name of every single deity you've ever heard of, and several you haven't. Your staggering incompetence at betrayal was so pathetic that I am, in a moment of magnanimity, allowing you to walk free tonight. Do not, for one single second, mistake this for weakness. No, Minister. This is not mercy; it is a carefully calibrated act of blackmail. Now, lift your gaze towards the door of my study. Do you see those blinking lights? Those, Minister, are high-definition security cameras, complete with crystal-clear audio recording capabilities."

The Minister's eyes widened.

"Shh… little vermin," Levi purred. "No need for undue alarm. This isn't even retribution. Think of it as… gentle persuasion. You will perform your duties with unwavering efficiency and without a single weary sigh. Won't you, Minister?"

Well, that escalated quickly. One minute we're having tea and hot chocolate, the next Levi's threatening divine torture and revealing his home security system like it's a particularly fine piece of art.

"Yes, of course. Unwavering efficiency. Not a single sigh. You have my word," the Minister whispered, though his eyes remained wide and fixed.

Levi stared at him, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Oh? Is that a flicker of fear I detect, Minister? Are you perhaps contemplating a frantic dash to the public square, eager to shatter my 'Saint of Ascaria' persona?" He chuckled softly. "You have utterly no comprehension of the depths of who and what I am, Minister. I am the architect who brought down a five-centuries-old lineage with nothing more than whispers and a cup of poisoned tea. If you even dream of seeking retaliation, of plotting retribution, or even so much as utter a single word about this conversation to your own wife, you will find yourself branded the pathetic Minister who attempted to violate the sanctity of the Saint's home. And those two insignificant allies you so desperately clung to? Do you imagine they will risk their own comfortable existences to shield your incompetence? Or perhaps they will eagerly recount tales of my supposed villainy? Please, by all means, do. My days have been remarkably… dull lately. A little excitement, even of the messy variety, might prove… invigorating."

"No… no, Levi. I wouldn't… I wouldn't dare. You have my absolute assurance." His eyes darted nervously between Levi and the study door.

"Well then," Levi stated, a hint of satisfaction coloring his voice. "We have an understanding. You will be a good little vermin, Minister. You will tie that tongue of yours, you will perform your duties with precision, and then you will promptly remove yourself from my domicile."

"Y-Yes," the Minister stammered, his voice still trembling. "I will be good. I will do my job." He turned abruptly and practically fled the kitchen, his footsteps echoing hastily through the house until the distinct click and thud of the front door closing reverberated through the silence.

"Well, Levi," I remarked, watching the lingering tremor in the air where the Minister had stood moments before. "That was remarkably swift. Just a couple of your… persuasive monologues, and he practically teleported himself out the door."

"Pathetic," Levi scoffed, a curl of disdain on his lip. "Couldn't even muster a weak defense against a blatant threat. The least he could have done was offer a defiant 'Yes, I will release the records!' or something equally futile. At least it would have been marginally more entertaining." He then snatched the transmitter from the table and, with a sudden flex of his thumbs, snapped it in two.

"So, you were hoping for a bit more… resistance?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed," Levi admitted, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But I suspect I leaned a touch too heavily into outright villainy. I need to cultivate a more subtle approach to my threats, perhaps layer them with a veneer of concern."

"Well… actually, Levi," I conceded. "You weren't entirely off-base. I mean, he did try to bug our house. But he also seemed genuinely distressed about the potential impact on ordinary citizens."

"If that distress is authentic, he will channel it into performing his duties correctly this time. Fear, coupled with a sliver of genuine concern, can be a surprisingly effective motivator."

"So…" I clarified, a hint of amusement in my voice, "you essentially terrified him into competent performance?"

"Precisely," Levi confirmed, a smug satisfaction evident in his tone. "You will witness a truly remarkable surge in his efficiency now that he understands I am not some benevolent savior, but a relentless tyrant breathing down his neck. And as I've stated repeatedly, all I require is for him to execute his assigned tasks. I harbor no illusions about his loyalty or his desire to expose me. Should he attempt such a futile endeavor, I will simply offer a suitably contrite public apology and embrace the role of the humbled 'Saint' once more. You see, dear, there is a distinct lack of genuine challenge in any of this." He punctuated his statement with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Gods, Levi…" I sighed, shaking my head with a mixture of exasperation and a strange sort of respect. "Untangling the moral knot you tie on a daily basis is a task for philosophers centuries from now. But… I have to admit, there was a certain perverse amusement in watching you conjure up that relentless stream of creative insults for the poor Minister."

"What you found 'fun,' I suspect, possesses a few more intricate layers than mere vocabulary," Levi mused. "I could pen countless volumes of poetry detailing the sheer poetry of his incompetence. No, the truly amusing element was the irony. The pathetic little vermin genuinely believed he could infiltrate our sanctuary with a dime-store recording device. Honestly. If he were going to attempt such a monumentally foolish act, he should have at least invested in a broadcast-grade setup, live streaming his 'findings' directly to the masses. Ah… alas. No worthy adversaries to sharpen my tyrannical claws on tonight."

"You truly leaned into your villainous side tonight, Levi," I observed, a thoughtful frown creasing my brow. "But how on earth did you even suspect he had planted a listening device?"

"Hm? Ah… that," Levi murmured, a flicker of amusement returning to his eyes. "The telltale signs, dearest. The leather of his bag was reflecting the light in an unusual way, a sheen caused by the nervous perspiration on his palms. His pupils were also dilated, a physiological response beyond mere anger – it spoke of guilt, of suppressed anxiety. Initially, I considered the possibility of a bribe, some act of corruption he'd attempted to conceal. But no… the truth, as it so often is, proved far more… boring." He paused, a hint of disdain in his voice. "The pathetic little tremor in his hand. The way his gaze flickered towards that specific corner of the room, a micro-expression of concern. Elementary, my dear Raphael."

How can he read that? And he was angry at that point, he was about to snap but he just crinkled his right eye then bam, the Minister’s little deception was laid bare.

"Ah, Levi…" I challenged. "Let's play chess. I'm atrocious, barely know the rules, but humor me and teach me." I wanted to see that sharp mind of his engaged in something less… morally ambiguous, and perhaps elicit a genuine smile from my intense lion.

"If your ambition were to achieve even a modicum of competence at chess, you'd be facing at least eight months of rigorous study – memorizing opening sequences, navigating the complexities of the middle game, and mastering the intricacies of endgames. The fundamental truth of chess, my dear, is that while strategy plays a role, it is predominantly a game of meticulous memorization. However…" he continued, a sly smile now gracing his lips, "if you were to consider a small, mutually beneficial wager – say, a permanent switch from those ghastly low-tar cigarettes to something with at least an orange filter – then perhaps I could be persuaded to indulge your rudimentary understanding of the royal game."

"Damn," I muttered, a playful defiance in my tone. "But no, Levi. Absolutely not. I am not switching my brand of cigarettes."

"But you are aware, dear, that I am currently a penniless man. And since I am valiantly navigating the treacherous waters of sobriety, surely you can appreciate my need for some small, socially acceptable form of self-destructive addiction, can't you?”

Penniless? Please. The man could charm gold from a dragon if he put his mind to it. And the sobriety saga – admirable, yes, but now my lungs have to suffer for his newfound virtue? Fine. Let him have his theatrics. But I'm not budging on the low-tar. My lungs, my rules.

"Why can't you simply embrace a refined cigar, Levi?" I countered. "Channel your inner fallen nobleman and acquire a suitably sophisticated addiction?"

"Ugh, no," Levi wrinkled his nose. "Those noxious things reek of the very men I despise – pompous, entitled relics. I much prefer the delicate dance of a cigarette's smoke, the quick, sharp sting of its poison. It's far more… democratic in its destruction."

"Oh, you dramatic creature," I chuckled, shaking my head with a fond smile. "I already indulge your habit with my low-tar cigarettes, but if we actually manage to play a game of this royal… memorization, I might even be persuaded to acquire a pack of your preferred poison."

"Hm…" Levi mused, a glint of thrill in his eyes. "It seems my Pulla is under the impression that we will simply engage in a leisurely game of chess. Well then. Allow me to retrieve my board."

Shit. This isn't going to be a simple game of rooks and pawns, is it?