I barely slept reading the articles, the glowing screen of my phone casting an eerie blue light on my face. It was around ten in the morning when I finally drifted off, collapsing onto the hotel couch, still clad in my rumpled clothes from the fundraiser. I blinked awake, disoriented, and glanced around the suite. A neat stack of new clothes, expensive and perfectly folded, lay by the entrance door, accompanied by a note: "Come to next room, whenever you are available, regardless of your answer."

I took a good, cold shower, the icy spray a welcome jolt to awaken me from the fever dream of yesterday evening, preparing for the inevitable meeting with him.

I knocked once, a hesitant rap on the heavy door. "It's me, Raphael. Can I come in?"

His voice, even and measured, replied from within. “Please come inside.”

Our rooms mirrored each other’s opulence, draped in lavish golden accents and adorned with black-hued furnishings that felt like a twisted homage to excess and grandeur. He was sitting on the couch again, looking immaculate even in the early morning, with a vest buttoned over a white shirt. “Good morning, Mr. Everett. While I recognize it is early, I must address the matter at hand. Am I to understand that the presence of the contract in your possession signifies your acceptance?” he inquired, his gaze unwavering.

“Yeah! Yeah, I signed the damned thing! Happy now, you maniac?” I blurted out, the words laced with frustration and an undeniable exhaustion.

He let out a slow exhale. “I am content.”

He didn’t look like it though. He was the same as yesterday, a picture of unflappable calm. His deadpan eyes, like twin pools of deep blue, sent familiar shivers down my spine.

“Shall we proceed to breakfast, Mr. Everett?” he suggested. His overly formal manners were, quite frankly, annoying the shit out of me. But because I basically have no one treating me with a respect like this, a faint, almost shameful thrill rippled through me; I was enjoying it.

The wait for the room service was filled with a thick, heavy silence. I didn’t like it.

“Levi.” I broke the quiet. He was busy typing something on his phone. He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Yes, Mr. Everett.”

“Why do you want this? If I’m being honest, I don’t think I can do what you want from me,” I confessed, the words tasting like ash. He turned his phone off, placing it on the cushion beside him, and gently extended his hand to me. I took it with hesitation. He led us to the dining table. Just as he seated himself across from me, the staff arrived, plates in hand, setting the table with a spread of delicate pastries, fresh fruit, and steaming tea.

He was sitting across from me, patient and still, waiting for the hotel employees to leave us alone. I could tell, despite his composure, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the presence of others. After the last chime of the departing trolley faded, he stood up and got closer, his shadow falling over me like a dark cloak. Without breaking his intense gaze, he poured me tea, the stream silent and precise. He then sat back down to his seat, picking up where we left off.

“Mr. Everett, my objective is quite direct: I desire to be disowned. My lineage has endured for centuries, and my parents insist upon the continuation of our noble heritage through my progeny. This, I assure you, is an impossibility for me.”

“Are you, like, sterile or something?”

“I find myself wishing that were the case, Mr. Everett.” He took a slow sip of his tea, his eyes fixed on me over the rim of the cup. “My family maintains an anachronistic adherence to the concept of 'noble blood.' They envision that through a suitable union, I might procreate a successor who mirrors my genetic attributes, whom they could then manipulate for their purposes. I have no intention of perpetuating this cycle. I shall, however, confide a secret to you, Mr. Everett. A truth they endeavor to conceal.”

I stopped him with a raised hand, a sudden surge of something cold and real in my stomach.

“Hold on, wait. Before that, that’s not what I meant at all. I actually read up on you last night. They call you the ‘Saint of Ascaria,’ for crying out loud. How am I supposed to, like, possibly shatter that kind of insane hope?”

He looked at my face with a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Mr. Everett, should you so desire, at this very moment, as the publicly acknowledged spouse of Levi Blake, you could assassinate the monarch, and the citizens of Ascaria would, I daresay, declare: 'Mr. Blake undoubtedly possesses sound reasons for this action; let us follow him and initiate a revolt.'”

“Exactly! See, that’s what I’m trying to say. It’s absolutely terrifying,” I said and nodded vehemently, the hair on my arms standing on end.

“This, Mr. Everett, represents a rare instance of my humility. You have likely discerned by now that I do not employ words without precise intent. My parents hold decidedly prejudiced views; they are racist and homophobic. And you, in contrast, are neither Ascarian, nor of noble lineage, and moreover, you are homosexual.”

“Seriously? That’s all?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“Not entirely, but further revelations shall unfold in due course.”

“So, what exactly do you want me to do?” I pressed, leaning forward slightly.

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“You are merely required to be yourself, Mr. Everett. I have observed some of your theatrical endeavors and perused various tabloid accounts concerning you. You are, it is widely known, prone to exhibitions of temper. I must concede, however, that your countenance possesses a certain angelic quality, Mr. Everett. Indeed, even your given name evokes such a connotation.”

Ah, this name of mine. The one my mother chose, thinking it would bestow some divine grace upon her difficult child.

“My parents were aggressively conservative. And for the record, I don’t think I have an angelic face. More like 'perpetually confused cherub'," I replied, a wry twist to my lips.

We both started eating.

“I find myself unable to concur with your assessment. The attribute of an angelic countenance does not exclusively necessitate a round visage complemented by large, innocent eyes. Indeed, some individuals possess features that simply evoke a profound sense of comfort,” he said, his voice measured.

I let out a soft chuckle, a genuine one for once.

“So, you find my face comforting? Really?” I asked, a hint of playful incredulity in my tone. He paused for a while, his gaze unblinking.

“I find myself compelled to neither concur nor dispute that particular assertion.”

What a let down. The opportunity to tease him vanished. He has a facade on him, a perfect mask of indifference, and I wanted to see him flustered, to crack that composure. My disappointment was clear on my face, a slight slump of my shoulders. He must have picked it up.

“I am prepared to address any inquiries concerning myself or your person, Mr. Everett.”

His extreme manners, while he meticulously nibbled on a pancake, eating without making any sound, was utterly grating on my nerves.

“Seriously, just stop calling me Mr. Everett. It’s getting old.”

“As you prefer. What designation would you like me to employ when addressing you?” he asked, his head tilted slightly.

I wasn’t ready for that. My brain scrambled for a moment. “Just… Raphael. I mean, I’m already calling you Levi, aren’t I?”

“Understood, Raphael.”

The name I had heard over and over again, in my twenty-five years of life, simply came out of this man’s mouth without any hassle, it rolled… Beautifully. A man can’t believe how he can be turned on at the breakfast table with a literal stranger just by hearing his own name. I suddenly wanted to know everything about his sex life, about the enigmatic man across from me. “Hey. So humor me for a sec. Are you, like, a t-” I began, leaning forward conspiratorially.

Someone barged in the moment I was about to ask the most important question. It was the sly secretary, Holden. What kind of a secretary enters without a knock to his boss’ room, especially during what was clearly a private conversation? He saw me, and greeted me with a polite nod. “My apologies to both of you, but Mr. Blake is needed urgently.”

“Does he have to ditch us? We were kind of in the middle of something important here,” I said, a whine creeping into my voice. Levi looked at me, then at Holden.

“Holden, ensure the relevant files are forwarded to Annie, and instruct her unequivocally not to compromise; it is they who are in need of our assistance. We possess the most extensive laboratory facilities on the entire continent; the modest scale of our operations does not preclude their unparalleled efficacy. Furthermore, I require the institute to exert its influence regarding the recruitment of new personnel. Annually, their alumni consistently present challenges to our work environment, and I frankly have no desire to personally intervene and admonish my staff. Lastly, as the clinical trials for our novel compounds remain in their nascent stages, procure additional test subjects. And, most critically, arrange a dinner with my parents for Saturday evening and prepare the marital documentation.”

Holden, who had been writing everything on his tablet, paused and looked up at me, a tiny smile. “Congratulations on your wedding,” he said, his voice flat.

I took a sip of my tea, meeting his gaze with a defiant stare. “Yeah, yeah, go do your magic and then disappear, would you?” I said, waving a hand dismissively. He replied with the same uninflected voice. “As you wish.” Then, as quietly as he had appeared, he left.

I was expecting Levi to be a little bitch about my whining, to perhaps scold me for my rudeness to his secretary, but he didn’t react. He simply finished his breakfast, meticulously cleaning his mouth with his napkin.

“Look, I really don’t like that guy,” I said, watching him.

He gently folded his napkin and placed it precisely on the empty plate. “Should that be your desire, I can indeed terminate his employment?” he asked, his voice even.

“What? Seriously? You’d actually fire him?” I asked, bewildered by his immediate, emotionless offer.

He didn’t hesitate to answer, his eyes fixed on mine. “While he is a thoroughly competent and efficient employee, your preference carries greater import than his continued tenure.”

How can someone say these words without zero feelings?

“No, no, don’t fire him, that’s insane. He didn’t actually do anything wrong, he just… gives me seriously bad vibes,” I said, trying to rationalize it. He was listening to me, utterly focused, as he stood from his chair and slowly got closer. “Raphael, I appear to have miscalculated. I had initially surmised that you might find his presence more agreeable, and therefore intended for our communication during the duration of our marital arrangement to primarily occur through him. However, I am entirely capable of engaging a different liaison for our purposes.”

Okay, nothing he said made sense. Why would I be more comfortable with someone else acting as a middleman?

“Converse through him? What the hell does that even mean? We have phones, don’t we?” I asked, utterly bewildered.

“I shall not, in actual fact, be frequently present at the residence, Raphael.”

Ah, don’t say my name with your cold and deep voice; it does things to me.

“Why not?” I retorted.

"We may resume our discourse at our shared residence. I presume you may wish to retrieve your personal effects from your current apartment. As an initial compensation, I will provide you with a credit card; your financial expenditures shall not be subject to my scrutiny.” He looked at my empty tea cup, a subtle shift in his gaze. “Raphael, while I am entirely capable of procuring any item you might require, I am informed that individuals often ascribe sentimental value to their personal possessions. As this marks a new chapter in your life, I will endeavor to accommodate your preferences to the utmost of my ability.”

“You are a seriously weird guy,” I said, a dry, incredulous chuckle escaping me, the absurdity of the situation overwhelming.

“Indeed, Raphael. I bid you farewell for the day,” he said, turning, and then, with a final, unhurried movement, he left the room, leaving me alone with the silence and the echoes of his unsettling pronouncements.