I walked back home after our conversation.

The first thing I did upon entering the echoing halls was to seek out Levi's private reserve. The rich mahogany of the bar gleamed under the afternoon light, bottles of amber and gold lined up like silent sentinels. I didn't bother with a glass, just uncorked a bottle of aged brandy, and took a long, burning swallow. The alcohol hit me instantly, a temporary numbing agent against the sharp edges of reality. And so, I drank. I drank until the edges of the grayness in the house began to soften, until the silence became a dull hum, and for a little while, the weight of the world felt just a tiny bit lighter.

And I passed out on the couch.

I jolted out of my skin with something cold on my face. My eyes snapped open, the remnants of the brandy-induced haze instantly dispelled by the shock of the cold touch. My heart hammered against my ribs as I focused on the figure looming over me. Levi.

His hand, surprisingly gentle, still rested on my cheek. His eyes, dark and piercing, seemed to bore into mine, searching for something in the depths of my still-foggy consciousness.

“Raphael, are you alright, do you need a doctor?”

“Fuck off.”

A flicker of something – perhaps hurt, perhaps annoyance – crossed Levi’s features before being quickly masked. His hand remained on my cheek for another beat, then slowly withdrew.

“Raphael,” he repeated, his voice calm, almost clinical, despite the tension radiating from him. “You were unresponsive. Do you require medical attention?”

"I said, fuck off," I repeated, my voice thick with the lingering effects of the brandy and a potent cocktail of fear and anger. I pushed myself to a sitting position, swaying slightly. My head throbbed. I glared at him, trying to project a defiance I didn't entirely feel. "Just leave me alone." The sight of his expression, the gentle touch of his hand, felt like a cruel mockery. How could he feign such normalcy?

He took a deep breath, a subtle shift in his posture suggesting a carefully leashed impatience. “Raphael. Do you remember, Vexia and Pulla?”

“What are you-” I started, my brow furrowed in confusion, then a flicker of recognition. “Yeah, pet names.”

“Did you learn their meanings?” His gaze was steady, unwavering, as if searching for a hidden truth in my bleary eyes.

“No. Why? Just… Say it.”

“It would take my joy away to not see your confusion.” His words were delivered with an almost languid air, as if he genuinely relished my disorientation. “Also,” his gaze flickered towards the bar, lingering on the half-empty bottle, a subtle disapproval tightening his features, “my confusion stems from seeing you drink yourself to oblivion till the evening. And passing out on the couch.”

“I was angry, scared, and tired,” I mumbled, the defiance draining away, replaced by a weary resignation. “That’s why I snuffed around your reserve.”

“The facilities of the house also belong to you. But, I would appreciate it if you told me why you are feeling the way you do.”

The words were delivered without accusation, yet they carried the weight of an expectation.

The room remained silent for a beat, the only sound my ragged breathing as I struggled to sit up again, only to be pulled back down by gravity’s relentless tug. Shame and defiance warred within me, a messy, volatile mix.

“I drank because you are scary,” I blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I drank because you did a partial genocide, and you married me without telling me what you actually did. You had no right to that.”

Levi’s expression remained impassive, his gaze unwavering. “I cannot deny your right to know that,” he stated, his voice calm, almost detached, as if discussing a business transaction. “But my offer of the documents still stands. You can, as always, do as you wish.”

“You just shut up,” I snapped, waving a shaky hand dismissively. “I am monologuing.” The word felt ridiculous even as I said it, but I needed to control this, to get my jumbled thoughts out before he could interject with his carefully crafted justifications. “There will be some intense mental gymnastics to justify the shit you did. And,” I admitted, a wave of nausea washing over me, “I am not even sure if I want to know exactly what you did. Also,” I continued, my voice softening slightly, a plea creeping in, “I will need better reasoning to understand you. I talked to Julia today. She openly hates you, but she is grateful. I assume many other noblewomen think the same way too. Which is understandable, in a twisted sort of way, but also completely unfathomable to me. So…” I trailed off, the bravado fading, leaving behind a raw vulnerability. “I don’t know. Just… help me understand.”

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Levi remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on me, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He didn't interrupt, didn't offer a placating word, simply absorbed the torrent of my emotions.

Finally, he took a slow, deliberate breath. "Understanding," he echoed, the word resonating in the quiet room. "It is a worthy pursuit, Raphael. And one I am not unwilling to engage in."

He moved slowly, deliberately, and sat on the edge of the coffee table, his posture relaxed yet alert. He didn't try to touch me again, maintaining a respectful distance.

"My actions... they were not born of malice, Raphael. But of a conviction, a belief that the existing order was inherently flawed, unsustainable, and causing widespread suffering. The lineages, the traditions, the very foundations of noble society... they were built on exploitation and maintained through oppression."

He gestured vaguely with his hand. "The 'partial genocide,' as you termed it... it was a dismantling. A necessary severing of the roots of that system. Was it absolute? No. Was it without unintended consequences? Certainly not. But it was, in my estimation, the only way to prevent a far greater catastrophe in the long run."

I stopped him. “You may have a good cause. I understand that. What I don’t understand is how can you do that. I understood ‘why’. I want to understand ‘how’?”

Levi’s gaze remained steady, acknowledging my interruption without irritation.

“The ‘how,’ Raphael, is a far more intricate and, perhaps, disturbing tapestry,” he said, his voice taking on a heavier tone.

He tapped his fingers, his gaze distant for a moment, as if recalling a complex and unpleasant process. “Think of it as a carefully orchestrated collapse. We identified the vulnerabilities within the noble houses – their financial weaknesses, their internal conflicts, their reliance on outdated systems. We then applied pressure at these points, subtly at first, then with increasing intensity.”

“Julia mentioned bankruptcies,” I interjected, the memory of our conversation still vivid.

He met my gaze again, his expression devoid of emotion. “It was not a clean process, Raphael. There were difficult choices, sacrifices made… lives extinguished. Each instance was weighed, considered, deemed necessary for the ultimate goal. A cold calculus, perhaps, but one I believed, and still believe, was essential.”

The “how” involved a network of influence, manipulation, and the deliberate taking of lives, all justified by a grand vision of a better future.

“Levi. That is not the ‘how’ I am asking. I do not care or understand your secret lobby. I am asking you as a person, how did you deal with all the emotional baggage? Julia said many nights she couldn’t even sleep. How about you? That is how I am asking about.”

The sound that escaped Levi was sharp, unexpected – a genuine laugh that echoed in the stillness of the morning. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but one tinged with a strange mixture of amusement and something that felt almost… pitying. It was the first time I had heard him laugh so openly.

He rose from the coffee table with a fluid grace and approached me, his blue eyes fixed on my face. He reached out, his hands cupping my cheeks.

“Oh, feelings? Sentimentality? Truly, Raphael…” he murmured, his thumbs softly stroking my cheekbones. “Look at you, Raphael. On the verge of tears, your heart beating and thumping like Pulla.” His gaze intensified, his eyes seeming to pierce through my skin. “Look at you, how all of those pesky emotions have ruined you.”

“How can you even say that? I am trying to understand you, help you…” The words trailed off, sounding weak and naive even to my own ears.

Levi’s eyes gleamed with a disturbing light, a predatory spark that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hm… I know,” he purred, his voice dangerously soft. “That’s what makes it so fascinating and… endearing to watch. A Pulla,” he emphasized the pet name, “deliberately walking into a trap. It is truly magnificent.”

“You know what?” I said, my voice trembling slightly, but with a newfound steel hardening its edges. “I think your ‘actions of greater cause’ or whatever bullshit you spew are just a fucking lie. Maybe it was true at first, maybe you even convinced yourself of it. But…” I met his gaze, trying to project the anger and disgust that now consumed me, “it’s not anymore. You are an unfeeling machine.”

I took a shaky breath, the weight of my realization settling heavily upon me. “So, I’m gonna ask again, one more time. Strip away the justifications, the grand pronouncements. Why did you really do all of this?”

Levi’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps surprise, perhaps a perverse amusement – crossing his features. “Oh,” he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Your empathy is so much higher compared to an average human, isn’t it, Raphael? You even try to empathize with your ‘partial genocidal’ husband. But since you insist on the unvarnished truth…”

He paused, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across his face, a smile that held no warmth whatsoever.

“I did it… just to see if I could.”