I had never used this house's kitchen before. Never. I mostly ordered takeout or ate whatever the maid cooked that day.

I found a bag of rice and a pot that looked... like it could hold water. I measured out what I thought was a reasonable amount of rice, poured it into the pot, and added water until it looked… watery.

I placed the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. As the water began to heat, I paced the kitchen, glancing nervously at Levi, who remained motionless on the couch. He was like a statue, a chilling monument to his own silence.

The water started to boil, and I stirred the rice, or rather, attempted to stir it. The rice was clumping together, forming a thick, gluey mass that clung to the spoon.

The porridge began to thicken, bubbling ominously. I turned down the heat, but it was too late. A white, gooey slime erupted from the pot, slowly taking over the stove counter. As I tried to turn off the burner, some of that 'rice' touched my hand. And it burned.

"Shit!" I yelled, the pain sharp and immediate.

Levi was suddenly behind me. "Are you alright?"

He reached past me, his movements quick and decisive, and turned on the tap. "Here. Put your hand under water."

Before thinking about my burning hand, I was thinking about how he was here, helping me with something as mundane as this. I placed my hand under the lukewarm water, watching Levi in a daze. He was efficiently clearing the stovetop, his gaze flicking back to my hand with a hint of concern.

Levi, with a hint of concern. That's a wish children make when they see a falling star.

After he cleaned the counter and placed the pot in the dishwasher, he approached me, his brows furrowed as he examined my hand. "I don't believe you'll blister, but we should apply a topical cream."

"No. No… I'm fine. It barely stings now."

Levi stepped back, his gaze drifting to the window. The gears were turning in his head again.

"Accept my apologies for being distant. I needed some time to think and began preparations," he said.

"Being distant? Okay... I am really angry. But, that is another story. Let me ask you this: do you want to talk about it or not?"

"Frankly, I do not wish to speak about it ever again," he said with his flat voice.

"Is there a 'but' at the end of that sentence?" I asked with my continued frustration.

"If that is your desire, I will comply." His voice shifted, a subtle hardening sent a shiver down my spine. "I feel sick and disgusted. I am consumed by fury. If my plan were not so near its conclusion, I might have already sailed to that island, and eliminated not only my mother, but her pathetic lackey. To be brutally honest, even that would not alleviate my… distress. Therefore, Raphael, I have no desire to speak of this. I fear I might articulate thoughts that should remain buried in the deepest recesses of my mind."

A part of me was glad that, basically with some nudging, he spoke about it. Another part of me was scared of him. The things Julia said echoed in my mind.

"So, Raphael. How was Julia?"

"Wha-" I stammered, caught off guard.

"The bakery, Julia's favorite place. Since she knows how much I despise that bakery." His voice was low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

"We talked about you being a little shit."

"That sounds like her," he said, his voice laced with a dark amusement.

I glared at him. "I basically asked people around to learn something, anything about you to cheer you up."

"I appreciate the gesture. But tell me, Raphael. What did Julia say to inspire your sudden interest in culinary arts?"

"You are being a condescending asshole again."

"Frankly," he said, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing amusement, "watching your frustration escalate into anger, then fury, is… quite entertaining. It seems I possess an uncanny ability to provoke you."

"Yeah. You do."

Asshole. He was doing his seductive dance, circling around me like a predator. Damn it. I was being swayed. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his chest pressed against my back.

"Oh, you are so easily provoked. Such an honest body, denied by your own stubborn pride."

"Fuck off." I tried to keep my voice steady.

He clicked his tongue, a sound of mock disappointment. "Consider this… payment, for the days you spent worrying over me." He began to nibble at my earlobe. Damn it, Raphael. Don't succumb to the lion.

"You need to eat something first."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"First? Oh, Raphael." He chuckled lightly in my ear. "I told you that you are easy to provoke. Not that I don't enjoy it."

Damn you, Raphael. Damn, my body. He was just weak minutes ago, why was he an immovable boulder now? I grabbed the edges of the kitchen sink, knuckles turning white.

"Simply amazing, Raphael. Watching you and immediately seeing what you feel. You are fascinating."

"And you are a condescending piece of shit I want to punch."

"Please, amuse me a little longer." He purred into my ear; I could feel his amusement echoing. "The last three days were rather unkind."

"Stop playing with me. If you want to talk, we can talk after dinner."

"As you wish, Raphael," he immediately complied.

Was this his way of reclaiming control after… everything? Was he coping with trauma in this twisted manner? Or was he simply playing me for his own amusement? Or… was he truly unbothered, only horny? I didn't know. I never did. No one did.

We ordered some takeout. He got himself some bland foods while I got something that tasted rich and decadent. I could feel the unspoken tension at the dining table. Levi, who probably buried himself in his work for the past three days, was pent up and frustrated.

He ate in meticulous bites, without making a tiny sound. He had impeccable manners, as always. A ruthless reminder about how he is not free even in this moment.

"Did you always have food aversion?"

Levi's brows arched in surprise, a flicker of emotion breaking through his usual stoicism. "It began during my university years. The campus food was… intolerable. I relied on the vending machines across the street, which, as you can imagine, offered only sugary confections. Then it became a habit."

"What were your university years like?"

"Oh? Curious?" A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Utterly unremarkable. I've always had an interest in medicine. Chemistry seemed the logical path."

"Not medical school?"

"No. It would be foolish. There's only so much one can achieve with borrowed prestige. Besides," he continued, his voice flat, "my family already had a pharmaceutical company. I studied chemistry, mastered the art of drug synthesis, and managed the family enterprise for a while. Then, I deliberately engineered its bankruptcy, divorced Julia, and founded my own company."

Bankrupting companies, cutting lines of money, therefore power, was another pattern of his.

"Why did you bankrupt your family's company?" I asked with genuine wonder.

"I was still the legitimate heir back then, but my mother was the head of the household. The company belonged to my father, and Cybil didn't deserve the income of that said company. Therefore, I bankrupted it."

I pressed on, curious, "Did you love your father?"

He paused for a brief moment, contemplating the gravity of his words.

"Hm… I assume you can say that."

A chill raced down my spine as his admission struck me.

Levi, openly admitting loving someone, might sound heartwarming. But it wasn't. It was terrifying. He loved his father so much that he destroyed his legacy, ensuring Cybil wouldn't profit. The utter devotion coming from a dark entity. That was what truly terrified me.

His actions stemmed from familial love. What, then, of marital love? How far would he go, if he truly loved someone?

It was his turn to ask. "What about your family? I only have a brief idea."

…

"Well… my family were a collection of god-fearing, conservative, entitled pricks. Their 'love' was conditional; it was only given if I acted like a not-gay son. I played their game for a while. Then, at eighteen, my 'friends' outed me to my parents, and I ran. I applied to one of your charity foundations; they provided a scholarship, enough to keep me afloat. Two years later, an agency in Ascaria contacted me. They'd seen my shitty travel videos online, and I flew here. The same foundation assisted with housing and language education. That's… essentially it."

"It pleases me to hear my charity proved effective. As for your employment," he continued, his voice laced with a subtle undercurrent of command, "I contacted your agency and, shall we say, curated some advantageous opportunities. In truth," he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, "that was the intended topic of our 'dinner'. The conversation, unfortunately, was delayed."

"What did I say about micromanaging?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Our marriage contract," he replied, his voice smooth, almost silken, "contains a clause addressing such matters. And you did express interest in these opportunities. There is no rush, of course. You are, as always, free to do whatever you wish.”

"Thanks. Is there something specific you want me to audition for?"

"No, not really. Though there are some promising scripts that caught my attention. It would be an absolute pleasure to watch you perform."

How does he do it? How does he wield seduction like a weapon? Damn him. Damn me.

"If I think your agency is subpar, I can take care of that matter, too," he nonchalantly said.

"No. Absolutely not," I said, my voice sharp. "My agency has been with me since I arrived. They helped me learn the language, they helped me with my acting, they've done everything."

"It is a luxury for those companies to have your undying loyalty."

"Oh, Levi? Is that jealousy? Do you want my undying loyalty?" A smirk bloomed on my lips. I wanted to tease him, the way he teased me.

"Was I not clear on that matter?" He asked with a slightly arched brow.

"Well, if you want it, you can get it by being honest."

"I am afraid that my truth would shatter a bridge of fragile glass."

As always, he was right. Even Julia's whispers sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't fathom the depths of his "truth."

"It… doesn't have to be that way," I said, my voice laced with a newfound resolve. It doesn't have to be that way.

"Oh… that is unexpected. I believed your moral compass was rather inflexible."

"I don't know anymore. I truly don't. But I want to know you, Levi. Not the stoic mask, but, you."

"And what if," he asked, his voice low, "the stoic mask is me?"

"Well," I said, my voice steady, though my heart pounded against my ribs, "I'm pretty adaptable."

Levi chuckled with amusement, probably knowing how I took another step into a quicksand. "Want to talk about your family more?" he asked.

"There really isn't much to tell. They were pricks, so I bailed. I completely severed my ties. It's been 7 years now. I don't know if they are still alive or not, and I am not sure whether I care."

"Well. Families are... complicated." I guess it was his attempt at consoling. Or maybe it was even a pep talk. I was amused at how bad he was at this.

"They certainly are, Levi…" I replied, a hint of irony in my voice. You know it best.