The week that followed our intense conversation in Levi's office unfolded with an idyllic rhythm. The arrival of Levi's first paycheck from the government, coupled with the substantial three-month profits from his company, effectively banished any lingering vestiges of his performative "penniless" act.

Our haven remained the hotel room, a self-imposed orbit where our gravitational pull was undeniable. We existed in a near-constant state of intimacy – the casual brush of hands evolving into lingering embraces, soft kisses blossoming into passionate encounters that left the sheets tangled and our bodies sated. Every corner of that temporary sanctuary bore witness to our fervent reconnection, from the sun-drenched window seat where we'd share quiet conversations to the plush carpet beside the bed where our desires found release.

The days themselves were remarkably tranquil. We slept late, tangled together, the silence punctuated only by our soft breathing. Evenings were spent lost in each other's company, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes punctuated by quiet laughter or the murmur of shared secrets.

The inevitable day arrived when the temporary sanctuary of the hotel had to be relinquished, and we returned to the familiar, if still somewhat chaotic, embrace of our own house. A significant and deeply symbolic change awaited us there: a newly renovated master bedroom, finally facilitating our long-delayed move into the same bedroom after nearly eleven months of a marriage lived in separate spaces.

However, the remnants of our past still loomed large, quite literally, in the form of the countless cardboard boxes overflowing with archaic legal texts. Rosa, had made significant progress in her tireless efforts to digitize and dissolve a substantial portion of this paper labyrinth. Yet, for Levi, the continued presence of this cardboard maze was a clear source of irritation. Despite the progress, he couldn't resist the urge to physically assert his dominance over these boxes, crushing them beneath his feet with a satisfying crunch every single time one dared to encroach upon his path.

"Sir, my job here will be completed within the span of this week," Rosa announced.

"Excellent," Levi replied, a decisive edge entering his voice. "Immediately arrange for a team of laborers to transport all of these remaining boxes to the backyard. Furthermore, instruct them to procure a significant quantity of turpentine en route."

I hurried to intercept him, gripping his arm. "You're actually going to burn all of them in our backyard, Levi?"

"Indeed," he confirmed, as if discussing a perfectly logical scientific experiment. "While I could also conduct the incineration in the front yard, the prevailing wind patterns and proximity to dry vegetation present a statistically higher risk of unintended wildfire. The backyard, with its more contained space and proximity to the garden hose, offers a considerably safer environment for such an undertaking."

Gods... How could I possibly dissuade him from this? How did one articulate the environmental implications, the absurdity of burning what amounted to a small mountain of paper, to a mind that operated on pure, detached logic? Don't burn a mountain of paper in our backyard, Levi, please? For the sake of the planet? For the sake of not smelling like burnt parchment for the next month?

"Levi, the actual fuck," I exclaimed, my grip tightening on his arm. "Of course you don't burn a mountain of paper in any place, whether it's the front yard or the backyard! Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Well then," he retorted, his tone remaining infuriatingly reasonable, as if I were the one being illogical. "Instruct the laborers to transport the boxes to the storage garage at my company headquarters instead. And ensure they still acquire the turpentine."

Oh my God... How on earth was I supposed to stop him from turning a perfectly good garage into an inferno? Think, Raphael, think! What appeals to his logic? What could possibly outweigh the primal satisfaction he seems to derive from the idea of burning things?

"But... didn't you mention acquiring some sort of industrial-strength acid to dissolve all these papers?"

"While technically feasible," Levi replied, his brow furrowing slightly, "dissolving such a substantial volume of paper in acid would necessitate the acquisition of truly considerable quantities of the corrosive agent. Furthermore, the process would require equally gigantic and specialized vats to contain the reaction. Not to mention," he added, his tone becoming slightly dismissive, "the inherent increase in potential hazards associated with handling such volumes of concentrated acid. And finally," he concluded, a slight wrinkle of distaste appearing on his face, "the olfactory byproduct of paper undergoing acidic dissolution is, by all accounts, quite revolting. The scent of burning paper, especially when enhanced with the aromatic hydrocarbons of turpentine, is, comparatively speaking, rather agreeable."

Gigantic vats of acid do sound problematic, I'll give him that. And the hazardous part... well, burning a mountain of paper with accelerant doesn't exactly scream 'safe' to me. But the smell is his deciding factor? That's... Levi. He weighs the potential dangers and logistical nightmares, and then his nose makes the final call.

"Levi, please, I am begging you. Do not, under any circumstances, burn a mountain of paper in our backyard, or your company's garage, or anywhere else for that matter!"

"Well then, Raphael," he countered, his tone brooking no argument, "it appears you must choose between two equally... undesirable options. Either I undertake the swift and decisive incineration of these disgusting, vile remnants of outdated legislation, or I shall, quite publicly and with considerable lack of decorum, proceed to urinate on the tomb of the late King. Decide."

My jaw dropped. Was this truly the binary choice I was being presented with?

"So," I repeated slowly, "your alternative to... safely disposing of some old papers... is to actually piss on the King's tomb, Levi?"

"Indeed," he deadpanned. He even tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for my sensible agreement. He was serious. Utterly, completely serious.

"Please, just stop acting like a petulant child!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "Burning our house down or... pissing on the King's tomb? Are those truly the only alternatives?"

"No, not exclusively," Levi corrected, his tone almost pedantic, as if I were failing to grasp the full spectrum of his available options. "I could also, with a modicum of strategic planning and readily available resources, orchestrate the complete incineration of the Royal Palace from the relative comfort of my own study. And, should you find that insufficiently... impactful, I could further arrange a comprehensive desecration of the ancient noble cemetery, ensuring every single tomb, including those belonging to my esteemed ancestors, receives my personal attention."

"Gods..."

His utter disdain for the nobility and the monarchy... was this how villains were born? Through a series of escalatingly absurd acts of defiance against societal norms? I honestly couldn't fathom where his mind would take him next.

Taking a deep breath, I tried a different approach. "Levi. Just... please, be silent for a moment. Just... stop. If you absolutely must set these archaic documents ablaze – and I still think this is a terrible idea – then at the very least, could we implement some sort of... controlled burn schedule? One box at a time, perhaps? One every morning with your hot chocolate, one with lunch, one to cap off the evening?"

"A glorious inferno aligns more aesthetically with my sensibilities, Raphael."

He was being utterly impossible. This wasn't a rational adult; this was a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Levi... please, just look at me," I said softly, my hand resting gently on his arm this time. "I understand your frustration, your desire to be rid of this... this paper purgatory. But you, of all people, must understand the inherent danger of igniting such a massive quantity of paper, okay? If you absolutely must see them reduced to ash, can we at least agree to do it in small, manageable quantities?"

"So," Levi countered, his gaze fixed on the towering boxes as if they were the physical manifestation of some deep-seated grievance, "I am to... savor the protracted process of eradicating this clutter from my domicile? No, Raphael. I want them gone, and I want them reduced to nothing more to ashes. And frankly," he continued, a strange intensity flickering in his eyes, "there is a certain... catharsis in the visual spectacle of a significant conflagration. Perhaps, as I observe the flames consuming these archaic remnants, whilst comfortably sipping my hot chocolate, I can finally cleanse this flawed soul of mine from the lingering taint of... this," he gestured dismissively at the boxes, his voice dripping with disdain, "... these vile things."

"I know, Levi, I know," I sighed. "I remember the... incident in the kitchen with the single box. I understand your aversion to these papers, I truly do. But please, just promise me you won't set fire to a mountain of them inside our house."

"Fine," he conceded, a hint of reluctant compromise in his tone. "I will relocate the incineration to the ancient noble cemetery, the one situated on the island. Does this constitute a mutually acceptable agreement?"

Wait... hold on. The island... Cybil moved out ages ago. It is isolated, a small, windswept landmass accessible only by boat. And the ancient cemetery... it's mostly surrounded by overgrown trees, a natural barrier. Even if a fire were to get out of hand, it's an island. There's nowhere for it to spread beyond the shoreline... This... this might actually work.

"Alright," I conceded, a strange mix of relief and lingering disbelief swirling within me. "You will burn these... things... on the island, Levi."

"Excellent," he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "I concur. The act of incinerating their archaic laws upon the very grounds where the nobles themselves are interred possesses a certain... poetic resonance that aligns rather well with my aesthetic sensibilities."

Thank the merciful heavens. Thank every deity, known and unknown, that Levi conceded on the whole 'public urination on royal remains' scenario. A bonfire on a deserted island, while still spectacularly bizarre, felt… manageable. Contained. But wait... What if the burning of their precious laws wasn't the only statement he intended to make? The image of Levi, silhouetted by the flickering flames of burning legislation, then casually unzipping his trousers in front of centuries-old marble... Shit. This isn't over. I need to go with him. I absolutely have to go with him.

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...

The arrival of the ten laborers, was a scene of organized chaos amidst our still-boxed-cluttered home. They loaded the cardboard boxes onto the waiting truck. We followed in our own vehicle, a silent procession towards the port.

At the harbor, the operation bifurcated. The bulk of the cardboard cargo was transferred to a sturdier, flat-bottomed vessel, accompanied by a smaller contingent of the bewildered workers. Levi and I boarded a separate boat, the engine humming to life as we cut through the turquoise waters towards the distant silhouette of the island.

Upon reaching the island's shore, the scene that unfolded in the ancient noble cemetery was both strange and unsettling. The workers, their initial confusion now bordering on open bewilderment, dutifully carried each heavy box amongst the weathered tombstones and lichen-covered mausoleums. Levi observed their efforts with an unnerving stillness.

The laborers, sensing the peculiar nature of their task and the silent, commanding presence of their employer, offered no protest. Soon, a towering monument of cardboard stood in the heart of the cemetery.

As the chugging sound of the departing boat faded into the island's quietude, leaving Levi and me alone amidst the silent company of the deceased, a palpable shift came over him. He seized the bottles of turpentine. Gone was the detached demeanor. Now, a desperation fueled his actions as he began to douse the cardboard mountain. The viscous liquid gurgled and splashed, soaking every surface, every crevice. He seemed to be attacking the boxes with the turpentine, as if they were the physical embodiment of his torment.

Levi trailed a thick line of turpentine away from the base of the cardboard pyre, snaking it across the dusty ground. Reaching the end of his flammable fuse, he paced back measured steps until he stood beside me. He hurled the empty turpentine bottles away from us, the plastic clattering against the weathered tombstones. Then, with a hand that trembled slightly, he placed a cigarette between his lips and flicked a lighter, the small flame illuminating the stark planes of his face. Without a word, I mirrored his action. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the turpentine-soaked boxes, utterly unresponsive to my presence, lost in some internal landscape I couldn't yet decipher.

We waited, each a silent observer of the other, a subtle tension in the air as we anticipated a word, a flicker of emotion, a sign of what this strange ritual was meant to signify. But the words remained unspoken, the reactions unexpressed. Instead, we stood amidst the silent company of the long-deceased, the only sound the soft crackle of our burning cigarettes.

Levi sent the glowing ember of his cigarette arcing through the air. It landed on the glistening line of turpentine. A low whoosh erupted as the flammable liquid ignited, a thin, yellow flame snaking rapidly along the trail, hungrily consuming the accelerant. The fire danced and grew. As the flame reached the base of the towering cardboard mountain, the inferno erupted with a violent immediacy. The dry paper, saturated with turpentine, became an instant pyre, a roaring column of fire that clawed at the sky. The heat washed over us in an intense wave, the crackling and popping of burning paper filling the cemetery.

Flames, shot through with vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows, licked greedily at the cardboard, consuming the archaic laws with voracious hunger. Black smoke billowed upwards, thick and acrid, twisting and contorting as it climbed towards the clear morning sky above. The heat intensified, forcing us to take another step back.

Sparks, like angry fireflies, erupted from the pyre, dancing in the air before dissipating into nothingness. The crackling and popping sounds intensified, punctuated by the occasional whoosh as another section of the cardboard succumbed to the flames. The light from the flames flickered across the weathered inscriptions on the tombstones, casting dancing shadows that seemed to writhe and twist like the burning documents themselves.

The roar of the inferno filled the silence, a fitting soundtrack to the memory I now voiced. "Eleven months ago, Levi... we stood on this very island. You spoke of dissolving the nobility, of dismantling the archaic structures of power... and you did it. And now," I gestured to the raging fire, the heat still intense despite the distance, "we are here again."

Levi's gaze remained fixed on the consuming flames, his expression unreadable. "Indeed," he whispered against the crackling fire. "Not only did I dismantle their antiquated system, but I have also, in a manner of speaking, desecrated the final resting places of my own lineage. My father and sister lie among these stones.”

"Shit," I breathed out, the realization hitting me with the force of the fire's heat. "L-Levi?"

He faced me, flames trembling in his irises. "Most of my own ancestors are interred in this very ground, Raphael. To be entirely honest... my father would likely be deeply disappointed in me. Not, I suspect, because I played a pivotal role in dismantling the monarchy. No. His disapproval, I believe, would stem from this... display. This unrestrained... brutality." He gestured vaguely at the raging fire, a flicker of something I couldn't quite decipher crossing his features.

"That... that makes a strange kind of sense," I murmured.

Levi's gaze drifted back to the dying embers, the intense flames now beginning to subside, leaving behind a smoldering mass of ash and charred paper.

"I do not feel good, Raphael," he confessed, his voice flat. "This... this was supposed to feel like something. A release, perhaps. At least a flicker of satisfaction. But... no. It is void once again."

"I mean..." I began softly, trying to find the right words, "isn't that... normal, Levi? To have mixed feelings? It's undeniably good to know our house won't be buried under a mountain of boxes anymore. And you certainly got your 'glorious inferno.' But... not everything in life delivers the exact feeling you anticipate, does it?"

Levi frowned. "I do not comprehend this lack of resonance. Perhaps... a 1.5 out of a possible 10 on the happiness scale? Certainly not even a solid 2 out of 10."

I placed my hand on his back. "It's okay, Levi," I murmured. "You anticipated a catharsis, a grand emotional release to match the scale of the fire, but... sometimes it just doesn't happen that way. But look around," I continued, gesturing to the ashen remains of the paper mountain and then towards the surrounding landscape. "Aside from maybe ten forgotten boxes back at the house, there's nothing left of that old world, that noble dominance. Just this now... ashen cemetery, a silent testament to its end. It's time to truly move on, Levi. To leave all of it behind, here in the ashes."

Levi turned his gaze downwards, his attention fixed intently on his own hands. He held them out in front of him, palms up, turning them over slowly. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but his face remained impassive, revealing no flicker of the anticipated release. After a long moment, he drew a deep breath, the sound oddly loud in the stillness. He began to walk towards the smoldering remains of the bonfire, his footsteps crunching softly on the charred ground. He stood at the edge of the ash heap, his gaze fixed on the gray, lifeless remnants of laws.

"This utter lack of... anything." Levi murmured, his voice barely a breath.

A bruised cloud swallowed the sun in one breath; the cemetery dropped ten degrees.

The last time this oppressive darkness had descended so swiftly, Levi had stood on this very ground, amidst these silent stones, and shouted the single, damning word – "Bored" – into the indifferent expanse of the sky. The raw despair in that shout had physically broken him, forcing him to his knees. It was happening again. The gathering clouds, the chilling air, his desolate murmur... it was all repeating itself.

Levi slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes fixed on the rapidly darkening sky. A faint, almost mocking smile touched his lips. "This again?" he addressed the swirling, ominous clouds as if they were a sentient being.

Levi's gaze remained fixed on the churning clouds. "The divine architect," he scoffed, "clearly didn't deem mere existence a sufficient punishment when birthing this flawed soul into the world. And so, the grand performance continues. He once again finds solace in my irony, doesn't he? This elaborate charade – the burning, the island, the storm – all orchestrated, no doubt, for the exquisite punchline of my utter lack of feeling."

"Just... shut up, Levi," I said, my voice sharper than intended. "Stop wallowing in this. And as someone who claims to appreciate irony, can't you see the sheer absurdity of this? Before we both catch pneumonia, let's just go back to the mansion."

"It is a rather monumental irony, isn't it?" Levi conceded. "I had envisioned my ancestors, those staunch upholders of tradition, turning in their graves at the sight of their precious laws being reduced to ash. I imagined their silent, spectral disapproval echoing through this very cemetery. But no," he continued, his gaze drifting towards the darkening sky, "I now suspect their ghostly mockery has reached such a fever pitch, their spectral laughter so unrestrained, that even the Guardian of Hell himself is likely imploring them to shut up."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You dragged us all the way to this desolate island, orchestrated a truly impressive bonfire, and now you've conjured up a spectral rave in the afterlife. Come on, Levi," I continued, extending my hand towards him. "Before this 'infernal amusement' turns into an actual downpour, let's get back to the mansion and dry off." A genuine, if slightly weary, smile touched his lips as he took my hand.

…

The mansion loomed before us, a skeletal silhouette against the bruised sky, its once-imposing facade now marred by crumbling stone and a thick layer of neglect. Stepping inside was like entering a forgotten era. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the grimy windows. We made our way to the grand tea room.

"Wow," I murmured, my voice echoing eerily in the cavernous room, "this place looks even more... lived-in by dust and despair than the last time we were here."

Levi surveyed the decaying grandeur with a detached air. "Well," he remarked dryly, "I wouldn't be surprised if my ancestors have been directing a daily barrage of spectral curses at this particular piece of real estate. Banishing my mother to this isolated island probably didn't sit too well with their noble sensibilities, even in the afterlife."

"Speaking of your mother..." I began hesitantly, the shift in topic creating a slightly awkward pause. "She's in the capital now, you know. And... well, she asked about you. She was quite worried after she heard about your... admission to the rehabilitation center."

Levi's gaze, which had been absently drifting across the peeling wallpaper, sharpened slightly. "Worried?" he repeated, the word laced with skepticism. "No, Raphael. My mother and I... we operate on similar wavelengths. It is not concern that motivates her inquiry. It is, most likely, a detached form of curiosity. A sociological observation of her offspring's self-destructive tendencies, perhaps."

“I… I understand. Let’s just sit here until the rain goes away.”

Then we both sat on the creaky, dusty couch. I nudged Levi until he lay back, then stretched out on top of him. He did not protest, instead he put his arms around me.

"Dearest," Levi began, his tone matter-of-fact, "this... neurodivergency, is a recurring motif in my lineage. My grandfather, my mother, and myself... it threads through us all. Therefore, my mother's inquiry would not be colored by the emotional resonance you might expect. To be entirely candid, I possess no inclination to engage in any meaningful exchange with her."

"The Conqueror..." I echoed softly.

Levi's gaze sharpened, a flicker of intense curiosity replacing his earlier detachment. "That day... in the cabin. I was poised to administer another syringe. One more, and he would have been gone. And you... you intervened. You told me not to become his executioner, and you physically carried me away from that place. Why, Raphael? What made you think to stop me?"

A wave of complicated emotions washed over me, the memory of that tense, suffocating cabin still vivid.

"It... it was obvious to me, Levi. The way he was. The utter defeat in his eyes. To be honest, I don't believe he had the strength left to take his own life. But I also knew... he wouldn't bother us anymore. If he truly wanted to hurt himself, he would have. It felt, in a twisted way, like he was seeking some form of absolution through self-destruction. So, yes... I stopped you. And I am still profoundly glad that I did."

"To be entirely honest, Raphael," Levi admitted, a rare hint of vulnerability softening his sharp features, "I believe I am also... grateful that you intervened. The rather unexpected benefit of all this," he gestured vaguely, "is that the specter of that monster no longer holds any sway over me. Nor does my mother."

"Well then. Fuck your family, Levi."

A genuine smile spread across his face.

"Agreed."