The third dawn of the cardboard labyrinth had consumed our living room.

Levi and I occupied our spots at the kitchen island, the remnants of a breakfast spread between us. His observations about the structural integrity of the cardboard towers often punctuated the comfortable silence, while I offered theories about their possible sentience. Rosa, I knew, absorbed it all with her usual stoic efficiency, her subtle eye rolls the only outward acknowledgment of our eccentricities.

Levi swirled the remnants of his dark hot chocolate in his mug, a sigh escaping his lips. "I have, of course, formally notified the relevant government offices regarding the impending currency overhaul. Their panicked response would likely a gaggle of quivering bureaucrats – descending upon our humble abode. Apparently, the sheer scale of the undertaking has finally penetrated their collective consciousness, and they foresee… difficulties. Difficulties..." He rolled his eyes. "As if orchestrating a fundamental shift in a nation's financial lifeblood were akin to rearranging decorative cushions."

My mug clattered against the countertop as I processed this. "C-come here? To the house? Like Minister Shaw did?"

"Precisely. I overheard their frantic internal comms – a symphony of whimpers and anxieties about 'unforeseen complications' and 'potential public backlash.' Honestly, the lack of foresight is staggering. Did they believe such a monumental transition would unfold with the serene predictability of a Sunday afternoon picnic? Of course it will be hard. Exceedingly so. The level of incompetence I am forced to contend with on a daily basis is truly… soul-crushing."

"So, what's the grand strategy for this impending supplicant parade, Levi?" I asked, taking a thoughtful sip of my tea.

Levi tapped his fingers. "Ah, my dearest Raphael. I will employ my most… persuasive talents, naturally. Their fundamental miscalculation, you see, lies in their perception of me. They envision the 'Saint of Ascaria,' the benevolent consultant guiding them with gentle wisdom. They have never witnessed the reality."

He leaned back, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he finished his hot chocolate. "I rather suspect the precise moment their trembling eyes meet mine, the moment they comprehend that their 'savior' possesses the temperament and methods of a rather impatient tyrant, their little charade of helplessness will cease with remarkable alacrity. Necessity, after all, is the mother of surprisingly swift competence."

"So, the Minister treatment, then," I said with a knowing smirk. "Scare them straight into actually doing their jobs."

"I anticipate their arrival within the next half hour, a pathetic little delegation hoping to waylay progress before their actual workday even commences. A preemptive strike of incompetence, if you will. And you are quite right, my dear. It is time to sharpen my tyrannical claws. They mistook the swift implementation of necessary policies for chaos. How… quaint. They have yet to witness true chaos. A demonstration is clearly in order." He rose from his chair, a palpable air of anticipation radiating from him. "Consider it a… motivational seminar."

Truth be told, I was finding a certain perverse pleasure in witnessing his unvarnished villainy. Gone were the subtle manipulations; now, every pronouncement dripped with a delicious disdain. What truly fascinated me was his unwavering commitment to articulate cruelty. Never a curse word, always a newly crafted insult, each one a sharp blade. The takedown of the Minister still replayed in my mind. 'Even in betrayal, incompetent.' Gods…

Levi's mind was a labyrinth of schemes. So, when he abandoned his usual tailored attire for an ordinary sweater and pants and retreated to the backyard, my internal alarm bells started ringing.

Logistics, I surmised, was the most likely explanation. Our interior, a cardboard shantytown, was hardly conducive to hosting a swarm of panicked bureaucrats.

True to his word, a sliver of time before the official start of the workday, a horde of government staff descended upon our doorstep. These weren't the sharp, legally-minded individuals like Rosa; these were the worker bees, the foot soldiers of bureaucracy.

I ushered the bewildered gaggle of staff into the backyard. There, amidst the garden Levi so loathed, sat my magnificent, petty lion at our iron table, one of the two chairs unoccupied. I nearly choked back a laugh. Sixteen of them, a sea of nervous faces finally beholding their elusive consultant, their leader, in the flesh. The initial reaction was priceless – a collective intake of breath, a ripple of stunned silence. Clearly, their carefully constructed image of the 'Saint of Ascaria' hadn't included a man in a simple sweater and pants, casually perched in a garden.

Levi, of course, was utterly unfazed. He exuded an effortless nonchalance, a king holding court in his unconventional domain. While they stood, stiff and uncertain, he remained seated, languidly lighting a cigarette. His gaze flickered to mine, a silent command in his lips: Lock the door. I swiftly obliged. For their information, it was the only way out, short of scaling rather formidable fences. Then, I settled into the vacant chair opposite Levi.

"Right then," he drawled, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily in the still morning air. "One of you. Speak. Now. Consider the dwindling contents of this cigarette pack your allotted time. Once the last ember fades, so too does my patience. Unburden yourselves, and then, by all means, vacate my… verdant sanctuary."

A low murmur rippled through the assembled staff, a hushed conference of the damned. Finally, a young man, barely out of his twenties, his face pale and etched with apprehension, hesitantly stepped forward from the collective.

"Sir—"

Levi's hand shot out, a swift gesture that halted the nervous address mid-syllable. "Levi."

"Levi…" the young man repeated, the name catching in his throat. "We… uh…"

All that nervous energy, all those arguments, completely obliterated by Levi's mere presence. His brain had clearly hit a wall, a mental blue screen of death induced by pure intimidation. This was going to be even more entertaining than I'd anticipated.

"L-Levi… The… the changing of the currency… it's a big t-task…" He wrung his hands.

"Obviously."

Good lord. Levi responded with the intellectual equivalent of a shrug.

"But Levi, with all due respect," the staff member persisted, "the logistical challenges alone... the scale of printing and distributing the new currency nationwide, coupled with the monumental task of public education..."

Levi, however, had already visibly retreated into a realm of profound boredom. He flicked ash from his cigarette with a languid disinterest. "A sentiment echoed with remarkable fidelity by Minister Shaw, just yesterday, in my very kitchen," he stated, his tone flat. "Now, if my memory serves, I dispatched a comprehensive binder to your esteemed office – a document, I might add, of a density exceeding the cranial capacity of several individuals present, yourself included. Did you, perchance, trouble yourself to peruse its contents? Or did the mere prospect of a demanding workload in the coming month send you scurrying into a state of anticipatory insomnia?"

A binder, thicker than their skulls – a truly inspired description, even for Levi. I could just picture it, gathering dust on some desk while these poor souls panicked about the actual work involved.

"Levi, some of us did try," the senior man admitted, a deep weariness etched into the lines around his eyes. "But frankly, the sheer scope of it is... overwhelming. We lack the specialized expertise in certain critical areas to implement your plan effectively within such an aggressively compressed timeframe."

A sudden stillness descended upon Levi. He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette on the iron table, the small hiss of the dying ember the only sound in the tense silence. "Two cigarettes remain." His gaze swept across the anxious faces of the assembled staff, each one feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "So. You claim to have tried to comprehend a timeline – a blueprint, I might add, for the most significant economic overhaul this nation has witnessed in centuries, conceived, let us not forget, in a mere twenty-four hours – and your considered assessment is… 'overwhelming'?" He paused, a hint of incredulous disbelief lacing his tone. "Where do I even begin to address such a… profoundly underwhelming response? With you? Or with any of you?"

Oh, this is it. The prelude to the intellectual slaughter. You can practically feel the temperature in the garden dropping several degrees. "Overwhelming." What a spectacularly inadequate word to describe Levi's magnum opus. It's like calling a supernova "a bit bright."

"It's just... the sheer speed of it, Levi. We're concerned about errors, oversights... the potential for catastrophic mistakes if we rush."

Levi fixed the young staff member with a gaze as sharp and cold as glacial ice. "Rush," he repeated. "An… interesting notion. So, if I understand your insight correctly, you could accomplish this necessary task, with a modicum of… focused effort. A tightening of the proverbial belt, perhaps? But you choose not to, citing a fear of haste."

He tapped his long fingers on the metal of the table. "Allow me to elucidate a fundamental principle, one so elementary I trust even your department can grasp its significance. When a limb is ravaged by gangrene, what is the prescribed course of action? Amputation. Swift, decisive, and undeniably unpleasant. Delay, guarantees a far more agonizing outcome. The gangrene spreads. The entire organism fails. Everyone dies."

Levi, in his own… unique way, is trying to shock them into action. And the worst part? It might actually work. The color has completely drained from that poor kid's face. He looks like he's about to be sick. The rest of them aren't faring much better.

The portly man, his earlier panic replaced by a stunned silence, finally murmured. "Gangrene... everyone dies..."

"Amazing," Levi drawled, a hint of sardonic satisfaction lacing his tone. "Even your remarkably dense cranial vault has finally registered the rather straightforward implications of systemic economic failure. Progress." He leaned back in his chair, the iron creaking softly beneath him, his gaze sweeping over their now uniformly somber faces. "Tell me," he continued, "the past two months, in my… temporary absence from the daily minutiae of your operations, have been remarkably smooth and uncomplicated, haven't they?”

Two months of blissful, Levi-free existence, I'm sure. Probably filled with long lunches and endless meetings that accomplish absolutely nothing.

The woman in the sharp suit attempted a defensive stance. "We maintained stability, Levi. The core functions of the government continued to operate."

Levi lit another cigarette. "Stability," he repeated, the word laced with a profound skepticism. "Ah yes, the stability of a ship slowly taking on water, all hands polishing the brass fixtures as it descends. Two months of your 'stability' allowed the national currency to embark on a delightful downward spiral, a veritable freefall while you all stood about, aesthetically pleasingly arranged, awaiting divine instruction. And now," he continued, his gaze sharp, "now that the source of those instructions has deigned to return – an endeavor undertaken, I assure you, without my enthusiastic consent – your collective response is… what precisely? To advocate for further inaction?" He took a long drag, the cherry of the cigarette glowing. "Remarkably boring. Utterly devoid of imagination. It's not as though I'm tasking you with manually transporting metric tons of freshly printed currency. You will, as is your wont, occupy your ergonomic chairs, ingest copious amounts of your revolting coffee and those luridly colored energy drinks, and tap away at your keyboards, composing endless streams of utterly forgettable emails. The fundamental difference, ladies and gentlemen, is that now, those emails will actually serve a purpose."

Another young staff member, his voice barely audible: "So... the next few weeks... they're going to be... intense?"

Levi exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze distant, as if peering into a bleak future. "Intense barely scratches the surface of the coming reality. I anticipate a significant thinning of your ranks. Expect a flurry of resignations, a chorus of desperate pleas for early retirement. Your spouses and children will likely begin to forget your faces as you become spectral figures haunting the dimly lit corridors of your offices. You will witness firsthand the true meaning of chaos, not just within the sterile confines of government buildings, but rippling across the entire nation. Your singular purpose, for the foreseeable future, is to alter the trajectory of that impending disaster. Recall those dusty economics textbooks from your university days. Remember the historical precedents: after periods of profound instability – be it the recent riots or the devastation of war – the economy often experiences a temporary, artificial surge, a deceptive bubble before the inevitable downward spiral. The binder I provided is no mere document; it is your gospel, your unwavering guide through the economic wilderness. Treat its contents with the reverence you would accord your most sacred texts.”

Sacred texts, I thought, a wry smile playing on my lips. The man's ego was a magnificent, towering edifice, and moments like these offered a breathtaking glimpse of its full scale. The image of those terrified bureaucrats treating his meticulously compiled economic strategy as divine law was almost enough to make me laugh out loud. My dramatic, petty lion certainly knew how to command attention.

Levi's pronouncements of impending doom hung heavy in the air, and a low, nervous murmur rippled through the assembled staff. It was the sound of fear solidifying, the dawning realization that their comfortable bureaucratic existence was about to be violently upended. I could practically feel the shift in the atmosphere, the subtle tightening of shoulders, the quick, furtive glances exchanged. Ah yes, the stage was set. My dramatic lion, never one to let a captive audience go to waste, was undoubtedly preparing his next flourish. This remarkably dull meeting, was teetering on the precipice of full-blown Levi theatrics.

"So, if we fail, it's our fault? We become the scapegoats for your grand experiment? We're not just cogs in your machine!"

Levi's eyes narrowed, a low, resonant purr rumbling in his chest.

"Cogs?" he repeated, the word laced with disdain. "My dear man, you flatter yourselves immeasurably. You are not even components within the intricate machinery of governance. You are mere peripherals, extensions of my will made manifest through the clatter of keyboards. Your raison d'être is simple: to process the directives I issue and execute them with minimal deviation. That, in its entirety, is the zenith of your professional existence. Cogs imply a degree of mechanical necessity, a functional integration. You? You are barely the stray dust motes clinging to the surface of the machine we call a nation. Insignificant. Interchangeable. Utterly devoid of independent agency."

Oh, Gods. The sheer, unadulterated contempt.

"So... our opinions... our experience... they mean nothing?" The young woman whispered.

Oh, sweetheart. You just poked the beast. Levi's particular brand of nihilistic misanthropy was a chilling spectacle, even for me.

"No," Levi stated flatly. He ground his cigarette into the iron table with a decisive twist. "One cigarette remains. Let me disabuse you of any lingering illusions, ladies and gentlemen. Individually, you possess no inherent significance. You never have. You were born into the vast indifference of existence. However, for once in your utterly unremarkable lives, I am offering you a purpose that transcends your inherent insignificance. You will be the architects – forgive me, the 'cogs' – in the monumental undertaking of this currency change. Should you prove yourselves marginally competent, you might even regale your grandchildren, decades hence, with tales of how you participated in something of genuine consequence. That is, of course, a colossal 'if.' So cease this pathetic sniveling and whimpering, and for the brief span of your lives, endeavor to fulfill the one meaningful task I have deigned to bestow upon you."

So, this is Levi's version of a pep talk, is it? It's bleak. And yet… there's a perverse effectiveness to it. The desire to matter, even for a moment, to leave some minuscule dent in the vast indifference of the universe – it's a primal urge, and he's exploiting it.

The impact of Levi's bleak pronouncements fractured the assembled staff. A spark of hope flickered in the eyes of the younger members, the promise of finally achieving some semblance of significance. But among the older guard, those who had weathered countless bureaucratic storms and witnessed the rise and fall of fleeting initiatives, a palpable anger was simmering. Years of feeling like interchangeable cogs, now explicitly confirmed and amplified, were reaching a boiling point. Damn. My magnificent, thirty years old lion was about to unleash a verbal mauling upon these sixty-year-old skinny mice who dared to bristle at his pronouncements.

The senior man who spoke earlier stood forward. "Levi, you speak of a 'ginormous if' regarding our competence. Perhaps you should consider the 'ginormous if' regarding the feasibility of your entire outlandish scheme."

Oh, this is about to get interesting.

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Levi, however, remained utterly still, his long fingers forming a precise tap beneath his chin. He held the pose for what felt like an eternity. He regarded the senior man's challenge as one might regard a particularly persistent insect buzzing near one's ear – an irritating distraction, certainly, but hardly worthy of a significant reaction. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, the internal calculus weighing the merits of a dramatic, hellfire-and-brimstone response versus the simpler dismissal.

"Boring," Levi declared, the single word hanging in the air like a death knell to the senior man's brief rebellion. He then lit his cigarette. "Last cigarette," he added. My magnificent lion wasn't even deigning to engage in a hunt; the mouse had simply ceased to be interesting enough to pursue.

A low murmur rippled through the ranks of the older staff, heads inclining in grim agreement. The senior man, his voice now resonating with a newfound, albeit perhaps misguided, conviction, addressed Levi. "We will be taking this matter to a higher authority, Levi. You cannot simply subject us to such blatant disrespect."

I pressed the heel of my hand against my mouth, trying to stifle the wave of hysterical laughter threatening to erupt. To whom, exactly, did they intend to lodge this formal complaint? The Minister of Economy, who had practically begged for his intervention after the bugging incident and had grovelled with the memorable phrase, "I will be good vermin"? Or perhaps the non-existent President of our currently president-less nation?

Levi remained utterly unmoved by the senior staff member's pronouncement. He didn't even deign to turn his head, his gaze fixed instead on the backyard. The sixteen individuals standing before him, seemed to exist in a separate, irrelevant dimension

I recognized this studied indifference for what it truly was: a tactic. He was allowing his final cigarette to burn down.

...

Levi propelled the spent butt towards the lawn of the backyard.

"Right," he drawled. "The nicotine-induced buffer against my impatience has reached its conclusion." His gaze then flicked towards the garden gate. "It remains locked, ladies and gentlemen."

Sensing the abrupt and chilling shift in Levi's demeanor the young staff member who had first dared to speak earlier stammered. "L-Levi, please, no… We… we understand. We will follow your orders. Of course, we will. Absolutely."

"You still cling to this… quaint notion that I am some form of leader, a savior perhaps, or whatever fantastical figment your rather limited cognitive abilities have conjured. I am not. The reason you have been blessedly spared my presence until this moment, the explanation for my two-week self-imposed absence from your… operational sphere, is not born of indolence. No. This voluntary exile was, in fact, an act of profound public service. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that in my current state of pristine sobriety and heightened clarity, the act of crushing your collective incompetence beneath the heel of my polished shoe would not even register as a perilous act of murder. For me, it might even prove… therapeutic. I extended to you a final opportunity to embrace your designated roles, and you met it with… this. What truly baffles my intellect is this audacity. A mere fortnight ago, the stress of my absence was visibly manifesting in the premature graying of your hair, and now, faced with my return, you actually believe you possess the prerogative to…” He paused, a flicker of incredulous amusement in his eyes. "Complain about me? To whom? Enlighten me, because my mind draws a complete and utter blank. Is there some mythical figure of authority you believe yourselves capable of appealing to? Do share. I am genuinely intrigued."

The sincerity in his question sent tremors of suppressed laughter through my entire being. I embedded crescent-shaped indentations into my palms with my fingernails, fighting with every fiber of my being not to erupt into a fit of hysterics. Oh, my magnificent, self-deluded lion. He has no idea how comical he truly is, even amidst his terrifying pronouncements.

"So... there's truly no one... no established channel... no recourse whatsoever...?" the man with thinning grey hair asked, seeking a flicker of denial, a shared understanding that this couldn't possibly be their reality.

Levi tapped on his temple with his pointer finger. "You still haven't grasped the fundamental nature of our… arrangement, have you? You speak of 'going to' someone, of bureaucratic hierarchies and chains of command. Let me illuminate a rather crucial point: I possess no official title within your antiquated system. The very notion of appealing to some superior authority regarding my… methods… is utterly nonsensical. To whom would you possibly address this grievance? The void?" And almost childlike confusion crossed his features.

"Then... if there's no one above you... no authority to answer to... what, exactly, is to prevent you... from simply doing whatever you deem necessary? Unleashing utter chaos upon this country?" another woman asked, her gaze locked onto the steel of the garden gate.

Another older staff member, his voice trembling slightly but laced with courage, echoed her sentiment. "Yes... how? How do you wield such authority without any official standing? No title? No accountability? And she is right," he continued, gesturing towards the gate, "what external constraint, is to stop you from enacting any drastic measure, from plunging this entire nation into absolute turmoil?"

A unified murmur rippled through the remaining older staff, heads nodding in grim unison.

Levi offered a dismissive shrug. "Nothing, truly. Why would there be? My motivations, while perhaps opaque to your limited understanding, do not currently align with national self-immolation. But," he added, his gaze sweeping over their now uniformly apprehensive faces, "at least your collectively dense and remarkably thick skulls have finally, belatedly, grasped the fundamental nature of my… role."

He then rose from his iron chair, and stood directly before the assembled staff.

"Now you know," he stated, his voice low and resonant. "The total headcount in your office hovers around three hundred, I believe? Yet, only sixteen of you stand here. A telling ratio. And," his gaze flickered towards the younger members, "at least some of you insects have grasped the simplicity of your task. Do your jobs. Nothing more." He punctuated the statement with a clap of his hands.

"However," his attention snapped back to the older, more resistant faction, his tone hardening, "there remain persistent bugs who have yet to comprehend their utterly subordinate position within this… endeavor."

Well, vermin for the Minister, bugs for the staff. It seems my magnificent lion has a rather unflattering view of the local fauna. This must be his version of workplace ecology.

"But this isn't right! You can't just come in here and treat us like... like insects! There are laws, regulations!"

"Laws?" Levi echoed, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "Ah, yes… the very laws I drafted, personally shepherded through the senate, and, not insignificantly, funded into existence." He waved a dismissive hand. "Let us dispense with this tiresome charade. Do you honestly believe I would experience even a fleeting moment of concern if every single one of you tendered your resignations or, indeed, simply ceased to exist? No. I have a cadre of ten highly efficient assistants stationed at that government office. Had you ever deigned to cast a curious glance down the adjacent corridor, you might have gained some rudimentary understanding of actual productivity. Did you happen to notice the veritable mountain of boxes that recently graced my humble abode? Those contained the monarch's decrees, the very legal framework I had ended.”

"Now, now," he continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "Cease your pathetic gazing at that locked portal. Your attention belongs solely to me. Should any of you insects dare to avert your eyes from my person, that door will remain firmly sealed. You are welcome to attempt scaling my rather formidable perimeter fence, but given your… advanced years and presumably diminished agility, I anticipate a rather comical, and ultimately unsuccessful, endeavor. You might also consider contacting the local constabulary, an action which would, in return, prompt me to immediately rescind the standing orders that currently occupy their attention."

Levi leaned in, his eyes glinting. "Let me disabuse you of any lingering heroic fantasies. I am not a benevolent leader. I am not your promised savior. I am the void that will consume your petty resistances. I am the conductor who will orchestrate a dissonant symphony of your pathetic whimpers, a cacophony the likes of which this pale blue dot has never before had the misfortune to endure."

Initially, a strange stillness fell over the staff, their gazes fixed on Levi. It wasn't the allure of light that held them captive, but the magnetism of darkness, the kind that draws your eye to the impenetrable depths of the woods at night. But then, one of them – a man whose fear seemed to outweigh the paralyzing effect of Levi – his gaze flickered, drawn once more to the locked garden gate.

Levi's attention registered the transgression instantly. His voice, which had been a low, menacing growl, now snapped with cold fury.

"What. Did. I. Just. Say?"

This is spiraling fast. Yes, of course Levi would lock them in. The blatant display of control, the tangible manifestation of their powerlessness – it's right up his alley. And the casual mention of the police… he's not just saying they won't come; he's implying he controls their response. The sheer audacity of it. He's turning our tranquil backyard into his personal insectarium, a place where he can observe and torment his "bugs" at his leisure. I have to intervene.

"L-Levi… I… I… just… I was just feeling a bit unwell," the staff member stammered, his eyes darting between Levi and the locked gate.

"This is your final opportunity for clarity. Three days of unauthorized absence from your governmental duties results in immediate termination and a significant financial penalty. Do you truly wish me to unlock this gate, knowing that your continued insubordination will be noted, and your subsequent absence will be… duly processed?"

Three days. A self-imposed prison sentence in our backyard, all so he can orchestrate their dismissals with maximum dramatic flair.

Before any of the terrified staff could stammer a response to his chilling ultimatum, I moved swiftly, placing my hand firmly on Levi’s back and pinching the muscle beneath my fingers. He didn’t so much as twitch, but the narrowing of his eyes told me he understood the message.

“Well, my husband has a rather strong aversion to the incessant clattering of sixteen distressed bugs in our backyard. So, let us establish some parameters. If I ever hear even the faintest sigh, a mere murmur, a solitary whisper amongst you regarding the arduousness of the task ahead… I trust I needn’t elaborate on the consequences. You will be exemplary bugs, won’t you?” he finished, leaning in once more.

He might be a magnificent lion, but even lions occasionally heed the quiet warning of their… less dramatic partners.

The staff remained visibly shaken. A collective, almost imperceptible hitch of breath had rippled through them. They weren't relaxed, not by a long shot, but the suffocating grip of absolute fear had loosened ever so slightly.

"Y-Yes, Levi. W-We will do our jobs. We understand."

Levi's sharp snap of his fingers cut through the lingering tension. "Excellent," he stated, his gaze sweeping across their faces. "Now, say it in unison. Let me hear the resounding affirmation of your newfound commitment."

Disbelief still flickered in their eyes, a silent testament to the sheer audacity of Levi's pronouncements and his impromptu backyard detention center. Yet, the stark reality of their locked confinement and his chilling demeanor had swiftly overridden any lingering defiance.

"Yes, we will do our jobs," they echoed hesitantly, punctuated by nervous murmurs and barely audible whispers. Levi's displeasure was palpable. He didn't erupt in the volcanic fury I half-expected. Instead, he merely arched his left eyebrow.

A collective understanding seemed to dawn. With a renewed sense of urgency, and perhaps a touch more genuine fear, they repeated the phrase. It wasn't the enthusiastic shout of loyal subordinates, but it was a clear, if reluctant, acknowledgment.

"Good enough," Levi conceded. He then flicked his gaze towards me, a silent command to release his temporary prisoners. I obliged. The staff remained frozen for a heartbeat.

Levi sighed. "You utter imbeciles. Must I micromanage even your departure? Ah, yes, on the subject of directives. Read the bloody binder. Implement its contents. Nothing more. Now, vacate my property."

A collective nod rippled through the group. They surged towards the open gate, a disorganized exodus. It was less a dignified departure and more a veritable stampede of terrified animals desperate for freedom. The cardboard maze groaned and buckled under the onslaught.

Levi remained rooted to the spot, staring at the sky. "That was remarkably boring, Raphael," he finally murmured, the tension that had gripped the garden moments ago dissipated entirely.

I placed a hand on his back, the adrenaline making my fingers tremble slightly. "Well, I had to restrain myself from erupting into laughter on multiple occasions. But… seriously the fuck Levi? Were you actually planning to imprison sixteen people in our backyard for three whole days?"

Levi finally lowered his gaze, turning to me with a nonchalant shrug. "Of course not, my dear. Me? Hosting a menagerie of sixteen overwrought insects in my garden? Preposterous. It was a rather obvious bluff, designed to… encourage compliance. And," a rich chuckle rumbled in his chest, "every single one of them swallowed it whole. Including you, I might add."

Damn him. Of course it was a bluff. Sixteen people for three days? Even Levi isn't that insane. Probably. But the sheer audacity of it, the conviction with which he delivered that threat… it felt so real.

I slapped his back. "You are a complete and utter asshole, Levi. Gods… for a moment there, I genuinely pictured us playing prison wardens, lugging water and stale bread to a bunch of terrified bureaucrats." I chuckled nervously.

Levi's amusement deepened. "Food and water? My dearest Raphael, please." He shook his head. "Ah, they were likely composing strongly worded letters to HR about my 'unprofessional conduct' as they plotted their escape."

I burst out laughing. "Yeah! What in the actual fuck was that whole performance? You know I was practically drawing blood with my fingernails trying not to lose it completely."

"You should have," Levi replied. "It would have been a remarkably devastating blow to their already tenuous grasp on the abysmal depths to which their incompetence has plunged them." He sighed, a genuine note of frustration creeping into his voice. "I truly do not comprehend this peculiar human tendency. If one harbors such profound aversion to their assigned responsibilities… then… resign? Is that not the logical, self-evident solution? Or perhaps seek employment within a different department? Why this protracted, futile resistance against the inevitable? The Minister himself has already disseminated a comprehensive memorandum outlining the impending currency change."

Wow… Levi really doesn't grasp the nuances of office dynamics, does he?

"I mean…" I paused, searching for the right words. "It's partly laziness, yes. But it's also rooted in the primal fear of the unknown, Levi. This currency change represents uncertainty. And in any office environment, there's always a contingent of individuals who instinctively push back against any perceived shift in the established order. Just look at the old guard out there."

"I suppose you're right," Levi conceded. "My deliberate anonymity, likely fostered a false sense of security. They probably dismissed me as some temporary nuisance. But the sheer audacity," his jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, "the sheer, unmitigated gall to actually pound on my door…" His voice trailed off.

"Now that I'm actually thinking about it," I mused, a fresh wave of annoyance washing over me, "what is with these people just showing up at our house on a whim? I can sort of wrap my head around the Minister's desperation, but… the regular staff? Seriously?”

"I honestly couldn't fathom their reasoning," Levi replied, a frown creasing his forehead. "I can only surmise that my lack of an official title, my vague presence, somehow led them to believe I was a rather… fragile individual, easily intimidated. The sheer presumption of pounding on our door…" He shook his head. "Ugh. This whole 'nature' experience has been thoroughly unpleasant. I detest gardens. Let us abandon this verdant purgatory and procure ourselves a suitably decadent dessert."

...

Levi, with a single-minded focus now directed towards more palatable pursuits, opened the refrigerator and retrieved the chocolate cake he had recently baked. He arranged two slices on a serving tray, a small act of domesticity that always felt slightly at odds with his otherwise chaotic persona. We settled at the kitchen table, the comforting silence punctuated only by the contented sounds of us devouring the cake.

Just as a semblance of normalcy had returned, my phone buzzed. The caller ID confirmed my suspicion: Finn. A mental image of the terrified staff descending upon him like a plague, or perhaps Finn simply salivating at the prospect of juicy gossip, flashed through my mind. Knowing Finn, the latter was the far more likely scenario.

I answered the phone. Finn's voice, sharp with urgency and thinly veiled excitement, immediately assaulted my ear. "Raph! What in the actual hell did Levi do? The office is in utter chaos!"

Yep. Gossip fuel.

"Oh, nothing much, Finn," I replied, the words slightly muffled by the spoonful of cake I shamelessly crammed into my mouth. "Just the usual Tuesday shenanigans here at the Blake residence. Levi locked them in our garden for a bit and casually mentioned a potential three-day confinement, which, naturally, would coincide with their rather abrupt termination. You know, standard motivational tactics."

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up," Finn repeated, his voice laced with utter disbelief. "He locked them in your garden? Like, with an actual gate and a latch and everything?"

"Well, no, actually…" I swallowed the last of my cake, a chuckle bubbling up in my throat. "I was the one who wielded the key, courtesy of Levi's… explicit instructions. I mean, you had to be there, Finn. It was darkly hilarious. They actually threatened Levi with an HR complaint. I swear I saw him blink twice. But you know what? I'm betting a good chunk of that staff will be working like hyper-caffeinated bees now, fueled by a solid week of garden-confinement-induced nightmares."

Levi, who had been silently enjoying his cake, allowed a satisfied smirk to spread across his face.

Finn sighed. "But… he's really going through with this currency change, isn't he?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, taking another bite of cake. "His current estimate is within the month, you know, Levi time. But speaking of timelines and general inconvenience, Finn," I continued, a playful annoyance lacing my voice, "fancy a go out? Our house has been transformed into a labyrinth for rodents, all thanks to your idea of sending every single dusty document our way. What in the hell were you thinking?"

"Firstly, yes, absolutely, let's get you out," Finn readily agreed. "Secondly, those documents were a significant spatial issue, Raphael! And think of the logistics. These things are practically prehistoric. We needed a dedicated team to inspect them for ancient mites, arcane worms, the whole biohazard shebang. Plus, Levi needed to review them to ensure their proper… disposal into the annals of history. But yes," he conceded with a wince, "I can only imagine the chaos unfolding within your house."

"Levi 'personally reviews' them daily by systematically crushing the boxes under his shoes, but alright, let's go with your more elaborate explanation."

Turning to Levi, who had been listening with a detached air, I asked, "You wanna join us, too, Levi?"

Levi tapped his fingers, his gaze distant and already focused on other matters. "Not today, dearest. Today, Holden and Annie will be gracing our humble abode to discuss crucial operational strategies for my company. Following that, unfortunately, a rather pressing matter of squashing further insectile resistance has arisen. My schedule is rather… full."

A night out with Finn sounds infinitely more appealing than listening to Levi’s misanthropy.

I leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to Levi's lips. Even after all this time, the unexpected softness of them always managed to catch me off guard. He returned the kiss, a brief but surprisingly warm pressure against mine. Damn this chaotic government work for making such simple moments feel like stolen treasures.

"Bye, Levi," I murmured, pulling back slightly. "And hey, just a heads-up… if those arsonist tendencies or the urge to unleash industrial-strength pesticides on the remaining 'bugs' get particularly strong, you'll tell me, right?" A chuckle escaped me at the mental image.

“Duly noted, dearest. Enjoy your evening out amongst the non-insect population.” He watched me go, a hint of a smile lingering on his face.