The next day, I woke to find the house empty, Levi was gone. Which made me realize how we never once slept in the same bed.

Later that morning, as arranged, a doctor arrived to remove the stitches. The procedure was swift and brought a welcome sense of physical freedom. With my mobility improved, I reached for my phone and contacted my agency. It was time to get back to set.

The drive was a familiar one, the landscape shifting from the city's edge to the more rugged terrain where the historical drama was filmed. The set buzzed with a controlled chaos, the crew moving with practiced efficiency. I was greeted with a mixture of relief and slightly wary acknowledgment of the production delays my injury had caused.

"Raphael is back," someone called out, and a wave of greetings rippled through the crew. I found the director, a harried but ultimately relieved figure, who outlined the day's schedule. It was a long one, playing catch-up, but I was ready to throw myself back into the work, to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of the set.

A sense of unease washed over me, about how Liam was rat in here, informed Cybil about our address, and ultimately how I got shot.

The thought of returning to the role of Aerion, of embodying his artistic freedom within the confines of the royal court, felt strangely ironic given the feeling of being trapped in a web of someone else's design.

The day unfolded in a blur of activity. Makeup artists touched up my scar. Crew members offered well-wishes, their relief at my return palpable. "Glad to have you back, Raphael," they said, their voices laced with genuine concern. "We were worried about you."

As the day wore on, I found myself slipping back into the familiar rhythm of the set. But in the quiet moments between takes, the questions lingered.

Finally, the director called a wrap. A collective sigh of relief went through the crew, the tension of the day easing. I was physically exhausted but mentally wired, the day's work a distraction, but not a solution.

The drive back from the set was long and filled with a heavy silence. The adrenaline of the day had worn off, leaving me with a dull ache in my shoulder and a sharper ache of unease in my mind. The questions about Liam and Cybil circled endlessly, finding no easy answers.

Back at the penthouse, the silence felt even more pronounced. Levi hadn't returned yet, and the vast emptiness of the space amplified my growing anxiety. I paced restlessly, unable to shake the feeling that I was being watched, that the illusion of safety I had found here was fragile.

The hours stretched on, the silence broken only by the occasional city sounds drifting up from below. A strange combination of disappointment and a growing sense of isolation settled in.

I tried to distract myself, flipping through channels, but the images on the screen blurred into meaningless drone. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to deepen, and every creak of the building sent a shiver of unease down my spine.

I felt utterly lonely, once again. Levi was not the type of person you can just do small talk, and I barely had anyone to talk to. The familiar faces from the filming set, the crew and my fellow actors, felt distant, their camaraderie a world away from the intense intimacy I had briefly shared.

The Ascarian night outside pressed in, isolating and unfamiliar. I longed for a friendly voice, a distraction, but my phone remained silent.

Then, finally, the door opened. Levi stepped inside, his movements carrying that familiar blend of purpose and grace. He paused, his gaze immediately finding mine.

"Raphael?" he said, his voice low, "You seem… unsettled."

I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the swirling unease within me. "It's… it's been a long day," I managed, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. "The set… it brought back some things."

Levi stepped closer, his brow furrowed slightly. "Brought back what, exactly?"

"The shooting," I said, the word catching in my throat. "And… and Liam. Being back in that environment, with all those people… it made me think about how easily Cybil found us. How Liam… how...”

My voice trembled slightly. "I keep seeing his face," I continued, "that smug look. And… and I keep thinking about how close I came to… to…"

"Raphael," he said, his voice steady. "You are here. You are safe. But it's understandable that these memories are troubling you."

“Worry not, my dear. I will crush every vermin for you.” he said with a glint in his eyes.

The shift in his tone was subtle but unmistakable. The words themselves, while seemingly protective, carried an undercurrent of something almost possessive.

It was a side of Levi that both intrigued and unsettled me. The desire for vengeance, for protection, was a powerful force, but in his eyes, it seemed to burn with an almost frightening intensity.

"I feel… overwhelmed," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "The set, the memories… the feeling of being watched… it's all just… too much."

Levi's gaze intensified, his expression sharpening. "Of course, pulla. I visited my mother today. We spoke of your… injury." He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I am… reasonably certain she orchestrated your shooting."

Levi continued, his voice dropping to a low, almost menacing tone. "But since she is of… noble blood," he almost spat the word, "I cannot take her to the court."

He stepped closer, his eyes burning into mine. "But, pulla. Do not worry yourself. Every single soul that dared to glance at you the wrong way… every single one of those vermin… they will meet their demise."

“Yeah, thanks… I guess… I need a little bit more gentle comfort not vengeful wrath comfort right now.”

The intensity in his gaze softened, the dangerous edge receding slightly. Levi took a slow breath, his posture shifting, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"You are right, pulla," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register. "My… enthusiasm sometimes outpaces my… tact."

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out, this time with a more deliberate care, to cup my face. His thumbs stroked my cheeks, a gesture that felt comforting. "Tell me what you need," he murmured, his eyes searching mine. "Do you want to lie down? A warm drink? Silence?"

“I cannot bear silence anymore. Anything but that.” My voice was barely audible, a raw plea. The memory of the empty penthouse, the lack of Levi's presence, and the echoing anxieties had made silence a tormentor.

"Alright," he said, his voice firm, but gentle. "Anything but silence. Then we will have… sound."

He took a step back, then moved towards a nearby console. His fingers danced over the controls, and then, the room filled with music.

It wasn't the loud, pulsating music I had expected. Instead, a rich, melodic piece filled the space, a complex tapestry of instruments weaving together in a soothing harmony. It was music I had never heard before, but it felt strangely familiar, almost ancient. It wasn’t the type of music I would have chosen myself, but it was… comforting.

Levi turned back to me, his gaze intent. "Is this… acceptable?" he asked, his voice barely audible above the music. It was more than acceptable. It was… healing.

"Yes," I breathed, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. "Yes, it's… it's perfect."

Levi watched me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he moved closer, his hand reaching out with a gentle invitation.

"Come," he said, his voice low and steady. "Let's listen."

I hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. His touch was cool and firm, a grounding presence. He led me to a nearby couch, and we sat together in silence, the music filling the space between us.

"How was your day, Levi?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper above the music.

Levi shifted slightly, his gaze turning inward for a moment, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough around the edges.

"There are no words to explain how I felt when I gathered some semblance of evidence in that house." He paused, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. "My day was undeniably bad. Worse than you can fathom." He took a deep breath, as if trying to control a rising fury. "As if that wasn't enough, Lady Elira contacted me. She… she informed me of her decision regarding the fetus," Levi continued, his voice tight. "She wants to keep it. Still. Even after everything I said…”

His words were laced with a mixture of disbelief and a barely contained rage. The music, which had been a soothing balm moments before, now seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his emotions.

"She… she defies me," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She prioritizes her own desires… over everything else." He turned away, his jaw clenched, as if the very thought of it was a physical pain.

I hesitated, unsure how to navigate the turbulent emotions swirling around us. "Alright…" I began, my voice tentative. "We still have time before we learn the gender of the baby. She… she can keep the baby if it's a girl, right?"

Levi's head snapped back, his eyes burning into mine. "You misunderstand, pulla," he said, his voice sharp. "This is not about… negotiation. It is about control. And it is about preventing more suffering."

He turned away again, his gaze fixed on some distant point, his voice dropping to a low, almost brooding tone. "I simply do not understand the perspective. Why breed another generation of suffering? Why perpetuate this cycle of… of pain?"

“You are right, of course,” I said, my voice softening slightly. I took a deep breath, my gaze shifting to the music, finding a point of focus to regain my composure. “You are, once again, right about having… negative thoughts.”

I turned back to him, my eyes searching his. “And I am… I am truly sorry about what happened to you, Levi. You did not deserve that. No one deserves that. But Lady Elira… she doesn’t have to suffer more because of this. And neither do you. We can still… we can still find a way.”

Levi turned back to me, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Well," he said, his voice laced with a dry amusement that contrasted sharply with the earlier intensity. "You do not want me to abort the fetus or end her family. So the option is… indifference?"

"There is no immediate threat to your plans right now, so yes?" I replied, my voice steady despite the slight tremor of unease that still lingered within me.

"Indifference," I continued, my gaze meeting his, "at least for now, seems like the most… pragmatic approach. We have more pressing concerns. The investigation into the shooting, for one. And your mother… that situation needs a more… nuanced solution than outright war." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "Besides, creating more chaos won't solve anything. It will only complicate things further."

I took a deep breath, trying to inject a sense of reason into the conversation. "We need to focus on what we can control. We need to gather information, assess the risks, and make calculated decisions. Indifference… temporary indifference… allows us the space to do that without making rash choices we might regret."

I shifted slightly, my gaze softening. "And… and it allows us to have this moment. This… peace. Before the storm."

Levi watched me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded slowly, a hint of respect flickering in his eyes.

"Pragmatic," he echoed.

He turned away, his gaze drifting towards the window.

"Very well," he said, his voice low, almost to himself. "Indifference… for now. But remember, Raphael, this is a temporary measure."

He turned back to me, his gaze softening slightly. "Come," he said, extending a hand towards me. "Let us enjoy this… fragile peace. Before the storm, as you say. There will be time enough for battles later."

…

The next day, I wrapped my day up at the set, Levi’s words echoing in my mind, a strange mix of reassurance and unease swirling within me. That evening, Levi returned to the penthouse, his presence filling the space with a renewed sense of purpose.

“Pulla, we will have a dinner with a powerful family tonight,” he announced, his tone brooking no argument.

“Oh, a noble family?” I replied, a flicker of surprise and a touch of apprehension in my voice.

Levi’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “No, they are not. But in some ways, they are more influential. They own a construction company, which has built mansions and houses for noble families for generations. In this century, they also did regular maintenance in the Royal Palace. Which means, even though they are not a noble family, they still have ties to both nobles and royalty. They navigate both worlds with… finesse.”

He paused, his gaze intense. “The family itself, they have no particular opinions about nobles. They are… neutral. But tonight, we won’t be there to sway their opinions.”

“Then?” I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Why do we have dinner with them?”

Levi’s eyes gleamed with a calculating light. “Essentially, pulla, every noble family has one house that solely belongs to their title. And every house has an escape room, if you will. Those said rooms are built with steel rods, and usually hidden within the mansion. Tonight, we will endeavor to gain access to their building plans. Because…”

He paused.

“…Because… when the time comes… the nobles will not be able to hide. Right?” I finished, a chill running down my spine as the full weight of his plan became clear.

“Yes, pulla,” Levi confirmed, his voice low and dangerous, and continued. “The family – the Volkovs – according to my intel, has developed rather a taste for mixing with… unsavory elements. Thugs, criminals… they've been known to associate with them for their own gain. But the head of the company changed, and they now strive for a more… clean operation. As much as it sounds contradictory, it may serve as a relatively useful piece of information.”

He paused, his gaze assessing me. “Since they are not nobles, they will not be overtly homophobic, I presume. But they might be a little… interested in our marital status, since you are not Ascarian. According to some chatter, the youngest son of the house is inclined that way. Again, we might use this information. What it boils down to, pulla, is this: do not be scared. They will not be condescending like noble families, but they are still a rich and powerful family. Treat them with respect, but do not be intimidated.”

"A family with ties to both nobles and royalty, but who remain neutral? And a gay son? This is fascinating, Levi." I found myself strangely intrigued by the complexities of the situation. "It's like navigating a court without the titles," I mused, a flicker of excitement igniting within me. The actor in me felt a strange pull towards this intricate social dance.

"I'm in," I declared, my voice gaining strength. "Let's see what we can learn. What do you need me to do?"

"Well, obviously, I do have some pressure points I can apply… gentle persuasion, if you will. But my pharmaceutical company offered them great relief when their late-stage cancer patient father was in pain. So, we have some… camaraderie. A foundation of understanding, at least."

He paused, his eyes scanning me. "Tonight, pulla, you should be charming. Ask questions, listen, give them some subtle inquiries. Remember, they are not nobles, yes. But they are still rich, a commoner family that basically built an empire for itself. Do not underestimate them. They possess a different kind of power, a power rooted in industry and influence, not in titles and lineage."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. "Think of it as… a performance, Raphael. A different kind of role. You, the charming and engaging… Cyrusian actor. They will be interested in your background, your work. Use that to your advantage. Be curious, be interested, but be subtle. We are not there to interrogate them."

We began to prepare. Levi, with his usual meticulousness, selected my attire. A dark, tailored suit, elegant but understated, designed to project an air of quiet confidence. He chose the colors himself, a deep indigo that complemented my complexion.

As I dressed, Levi moved around the penthouse with a focused energy, making calls, checking his devices, a sense of urgency in his movements.

When we were both ready, Levi surveyed me with a critical eye, a hint of pride in his gaze. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice low. "You look… captivating, pulla."

I met his gaze, a mix of nervousness and excitement swirling within me. "Ready when you are," I said, my voice steady, the actor in me fully engaged.

The drive to the Volkov mansion was a study in contrasts. The city lights faded into the distance, replaced by the sprawling estates of the wealthy. The mansion itself was a testament to the family's power, a sprawling complex of stone and glass, a modern fortress of wealth and influence.

Levi turned to me, his hand resting on my knee. "Remember," he said, his voice low, "be yourself, but be… aware. They are not our enemies, but they are not our friends. Tonight, we dance a delicate dance."

As we approached the imposing doors, they swung open. A family stood waiting to greet us, a tableau of wealth and familial affection.

A woman with elegant features and a warm smile stepped forward. "Welcome, welcome! You must be Levi," she said, her voice melodic and welcoming. "I am Mrs. Volkov, and this is my husband, Mr. Volkov."

A man with a strong presence and a firm handshake greeted Levi with genuine warmth. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We've heard so much about your… contributions." His gaze shifted to me, his smile widening. "And you must be Raphael. Welcome to our home."

Two young men, both handsome and well-dressed, stood beside them. "These are our sons, Dmitri and Alexei," Mrs. Volkov said, gesturing to each in turn. Dmitri, the elder, offered a polite nod, his eyes sharp and assessing. Alexei, the younger, the one Levi mentioned as being gay, stepped forward with a charming smile, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It's great to meet you both," Alexei said, his gaze lingering on me for a moment, his smile genuine. "It's not every day we have such… interesting guests."

A young girl, barely a teenager, peeked out from behind her mother's skirts. "And this is our little sister, Sofia," Mr. Volkov added, his voice filled with affection. She giggled shyly, her eyes wide with curiosity.

The family greeted us warmly, their hospitality seemingly genuine. There was no hint of the condescension Levi had warned me about, only a genuine effort to make us feel welcome. Yet, beneath the surface, I could sense a subtle undercurrent of observation, a careful assessment of who we were and what we represented.

"Please, come in, come in," Mrs. Volkov urged, herding us into the mansion. "We have prepared a feast for you."

As we stepped inside, the opulence of the interior surpassed even the grandeur of the exterior. It was a world of polished marble, crystal chandeliers that glittered like captured stars, and priceless artwork that adorned the walls.

We were led into a grand dining room, where a long, exquisitely set table awaited us.

As we took our seats, the conversation flowed easily, a carefully orchestrated dance of polite inquiries and subtle probing. Mr. Volkov spoke of his company's history, his pride in their achievements evident. Mrs. Volkov inquired about Levi's work, her questions intelligent and insightful. Dmitri, the elder son, discussed business and politics with Levi, his tone serious and analytical. Alexei, however, focused his attention on me. He asked about my acting career, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest. He seemed particularly intrigued by my Cyrusian heritage, his questions respectful but curious. I found myself drawn to his easy charm and genuine warmth.

The evening progressed, the conversation flowed, the food was exquisite, and the wine was plentiful. I found myself relaxing, the initial apprehension fading as I engaged with the Volkov family. They were intelligent, cultured, and surprisingly down-to-earth.

However, I noticed that Levi was eating very little. He politely declined most of the dishes, citing a delicate stomach. Then, I remembered it. How he found it hard to stomach savory and spicy dishes, especially red meat. It was obvious he was trying his best not to be rude, politely declining some dishes and eating in very small bites.

I needed to give him a crack, a chance to distract the Volkovs' attention from his plate.

I turned to Alexei, my voice warm and inviting. "Alexei, you mentioned you're interested in my work. Tell me, what kind of films do you enjoy? Have you seen anything recently that you found particularly… inspiring?"

Alexei's eyes lit up. "Oh, I'm a huge fan of cinema," he began, launching into a passionate discussion about his favorite directors and actors. His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon, the conversation flowed easily, the focus shifting away from the food and onto the world of film and art.

Levi, I noticed, subtly relaxed, his posture easing as the attention shifted away from his plate. He still participated in the conversation, his contributions insightful and engaging, but he no longer had to navigate the delicate dance of polite refusal. I needed to take a little break from engaging with so many people at once, so I excused myself to use the bathroom. The constant social interaction, the need to be "on," was starting to wear on me.

My brief respite also coincided with a shift in the conversation. As I emerged from the bathroom, I noticed Levi, Dmitri, and Mr. Volkov deep in discussion, their voices low and serious. Business, no doubt.

As I stepped out of the hallway, I saw Alexei waiting for me just outside the bathroom. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a casual smile on his face.

There was something in his gaze, a subtle intensity that went beyond simple politeness. And then it hit me. He was waiting for me. He had followed me.

Shit. How to be polite enough to make this family stay neutral to our cause but firm enough to not cause any scandals? Alexei's gaze, that subtle intensity, it was a complication I hadn't anticipated. I needed to tread carefully.

"Everything alright?" Alexei asked, his voice low and smooth. "You seemed a little… overwhelmed in there."

He saw through me, or at least, he thought he did. It was unnerving. "Just… just needed a moment," I replied, my voice steady, but my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "It's been a long day. The company is… stimulating." I forced a smile, hoping it reached my eyes.

"Stimulating, yes," Alexei echoed, his gaze lingering on me, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But perhaps… a little too much stimulation? For someone who spends their days on a film set, surrounded by… drama?"

He was toying with me. Testing the waters, pushing the boundaries, enjoying my discomfort.

"Drama is… my profession," I countered, my voice regaining its composure, drawing on my actor's training to project confidence I didn't entirely feel. "I thrive on it. It's in my Cyrusian blood, you know." I even let a bit of my Cyrusian accent slip into my voice, a subtle reminder of my otherness, a way to keep him at a distance.

"Do you?" Alexei's smile widened, a hint of challenge in his eyes, a dangerous glint that sent a shiver down my spine. "Or do you prefer the quiet intensity of… a more personal connection? Something… real, beneath the surface?"

"My priority tonight is Levi," I said, my voice firm, my gaze unwavering, my hand instinctively moving to adjust my jacket. "We are here on business. And I value our… professional relationship with your family."

Alexei's smile faded slightly, but his eyes still held that spark of… something. Curiosity? Challenge? Possessiveness? I couldn't quite decipher it, and that uncertainty made me even more uneasy.

"Of course," he said, his voice smooth as silk, his tone carefully neutral. "Business first. Always. But… perhaps, another time, we can explore that 'quiet intensity' you mentioned. When the business is concluded, and we are… simply ourselves."

He stepped back, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer, then turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, my heart still pounding, my mind racing.

I took a deep breath calm myself down. C’mon, Raphael. It is not the first time someone hit on you. Do not spiral.

I forced myself to focus, to push the unsettling interaction aside. The dinner table was noticeably less crowded. The young sister, Sofia, and Mrs. Volkov had excused themselves, leaving the gentlemen to their "business talk."

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

And Levi was smiling.

I knew that smile. It was his scheming, plotting, calculating smile. The one he wore when he was playing a complex game, when he was maneuvering pieces on a board only he could see. It was a smile that both intrigued and slightly frightened me.

"Mr. Volkov," Levi said, his voice smooth and confident, breaking the silence that had settled over the table. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze direct and unwavering. "This has been a pleasant evening, truly. Your hospitality is… unmatched. But it is time for the real reason we are here, is it not?"

Mr. Volkov's genial smile tightened slightly, a flicker of caution entering his eyes. "Indeed, Levi. While we appreciate your… contributions to the medical field, I suspect your visit has a purpose beyond pleasantries."

"Precisely," Levi replied, his gaze unwavering. "For generations, the Volkov family has been the preeminent builder for the noble houses. Your archives, I imagine, contain a wealth of architectural history, including the original plans for their… more secure constructions."

Mr. Volkov's expression became guarded. "Those plans are highly confidential, Levi. They represent the privacy and security of some of the most influential families in the country."

"And their security is of… interest to me," Levi stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Consider this not a request, Mr. Volkov, but an opportunity. Aligning with me has proven… beneficial in the past, has it not?"

Dmitri, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. "What exactly is your interest in these plans, Levi? And what assurance do we have that this information will not be… misused?"

Before Levi could answer, Alexei interjected, a charming smile directed at me. "Raphael was quite fascinated by the history of our family's work earlier. He has a keen appreciation for architecture and design, wouldn't you say?" Alexei's attempt to draw me into the conversation felt calculated, a subtle play for influence.

I met Alexei's gaze, a polite but firm smile on my face. "Indeed, the craftsmanship is remarkable. However, Mr. Volkov's concerns about confidentiality are understandable."

Mr. Volkov nodded, his gaze shifting between Levi and me. "Precisely. Trust is paramount."

Levi's smile returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Trust is earned, Mr. Volkov. And I assure you, discretion is my highest priority. Think of the… historical significance of making these plans accessible to… the right hands. It could be seen as an act of… preserving history."

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the room palpable. Mr. Volkov's gaze flickered towards Dmitri, a silent consultation passing between father and son.

"There is also the matter of access," Dmitri said finally, his voice cautious. "Those archives are not easily accessible. They are… protected."

"Protected archives are merely a matter of organization, Dmitri," Levi said, a confident smile playing on his lips. He leaned back slightly in his chair. "I have extensive experience in… managing sensitive information. In fact," he turned his gaze to Mr. Volkov, his tone shifting to one of respectful understanding, "our families have a history, a foundation of mutual benefit, as you know. My intentions, ultimately, are aligned with… ensuring a certain stability."

He paused, letting his words sink in, his eyes subtly flicking between Mr. Volkov and Dmitri, gauging their reactions. "Access to these plans, under the strictest confidentiality, serves a purpose that I believe you would ultimately find… most advantageous. Think of the potential future collaborations that could arise from such a demonstration of… mutual trust. Perhaps," he continued, addressing Dmitri again, his voice taking on a more persuasive tone, "with a little collaboration, we could streamline the process. My team possesses… unique skills in cataloging and preserving such invaluable documents. We could even assist in creating a more secure and efficient system for your archives, a service that would undoubtedly enhance your family's standing and influence for generations to come. And who knows what other opportunities might present themselves from such a… fruitful partnership?"

Levi's words now carried a clear undercurrent of quid pro quo. He wasn't just asking for access; he was subtly dangling the promise of future benefits.

A palpable tension filled the room. Mr. Volkov's genial expression had completely vanished, replaced by a look of thoughtful apprehension. He tapped his fingers, his gaze fixed on Levi, his brow furrowed.

Dmitri shifted in his seat, his sharp eyes narrowed. "While we appreciate the… potential benefits you outline, Levi," he said, his voice measured and cautious, "these are sensitive documents. Their security is paramount. We would need… significant assurances regarding their use and confidentiality."

Mr. Volkov finally spoke, his voice low and considering. "Indeed. This is not a request we can take lightly. The trust of the noble families is… crucial to our continued success. Any hint of impropriety could have… severe repercussions."

"Gentlemen," Levi began, his voice smooth and persuasive, sensing their apprehension. "You speak of the trust of the noble families. A commendable sentiment, one I understand. However, allow me to offer a slightly different perspective on that trust, a perspective grounded in the shifting sands of our current economic landscape."

He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping between Mr. Volkov and Dmitri. "The old order is fading, is it not? The nobles, while still holding titles and social prestige, have seen their economic privileges eroded over the past decades. Their wealth, once the bedrock of our society, is increasingly diluted, their influence waning in the face of burgeoning industries and entrepreneurial spirit – the very spirit that built your esteemed company."

Levi paused, letting his words resonate. "Continuing to tether your fortunes solely to the whims and dwindling resources of the old guard is, frankly, a precarious strategy. Their patronage, while historically significant, offers a diminishing return. Their loyalty is often fickle, swayed by tradition rather than genuine economic power."

He gestured subtly, his gaze encompassing the opulent surroundings. "Your empire, gentlemen, was not built on noble favor alone. It was built on innovation, quality, and foresight – the ability to see where true power lies. And increasingly, that power resides not in dusty titles, but in the hands of those who can build, who can create, who can adapt to the changing times."

His eyes gleamed with a calculated intensity. "Consider the future. Which offers greater stability and opportunity? Aligning solely with a declining power structure, or strategically positioning yourselves with those who are shaping the new economic reality? Access to these plans, under my absolute guarantee of confidentiality, is not about betraying the past. It is about intelligently navigating the future. It is about understanding where true influence will lie in the years to come. And it is about ensuring the continued prosperity and relevance of the Volkov legacy."

"Our legacy," Mr. Volkov said, his voice tinged with pride, a flicker of the old loyalty still evident in his eyes. "Our company has served the most esteemed families in this nation for generations. Our reputation is built on trust and discretion. We are not mere opportunists, swayed by the fleeting currents of the economy."

However, a shadow of doubt crossed his features as he continued. "Yet… you raise valid points, Levi. The economic landscape… it is shifting. The royal family itself has faced… adjustments. And the influence of some of the older houses… it is not what it once was." He sighed, a hint of weariness in his voice. "But the royal family… their favor still holds considerable sway. To be seen as acting against their interests… the repercussions could be… significant."

He looked towards Dmitri, seeking his son's counsel. Dmitri's expression remained guarded.

"The risk," Dmitri stated, his voice firm, "remains substantial. Your assurances of confidentiality, while noted, are still just words. We would need more… concrete guarantees."

Mr. Volkov nodded in agreement. "Indeed. We value the potential for future opportunities, Levi, but not at the cost of our established reputation and the potential wrath of the crown."

Levi chuckled, a low, almost dismissive sound that echoed in the suddenly tense room. "The Crown, you say?" He allowed a wry smile to play on his lips. "Gentlemen, with all due respect, I assume… a certain 'rat' belonging to the nobles within the royal palace has kept you somewhat excluded from the more recent noble gatherings and, therefore, their true social circles."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "The King… has been bedridden for months. His health… is precarious. And for the past several months, I have been the sole supplier of his… necessary medications."

A palpable shift occurred in the room. Mr. Volkov's proud demeanor faltered, a distinct worry creasing his brow. Dmitri's sharp gaze, previously assessing and resistant, now held a flicker of something akin to alarm.

"The King… bedridden?" Mr. Volkov murmured, his voice losing its earlier firmness. "We… we were not aware of the severity." He exchanged a nervous glance with Dmitri.

Dmitri's usual skepticism seemed to waver. A subtle fear began to emanate from both men.

"And… you say you are the sole supplier of his… medications?" Mr. Volkov asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes now fixed on Levi with a mixture of apprehension and a dawning realization of the man's true influence.

Levi leaned forward, sensing their unease and pressing his advantage. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice now laced with a subtle note of camaraderie, a shared understanding. "I built my company from the ground up, without owing a single dime to my bloodline. A sentiment I believe a self-made, powerful family like yours can appreciate."

He allowed a moment for his words to resonate, appealing to their pride in their own achievements. Then, he shifted his tone, injecting a hint of what sounded like genuine sympathy, but was calculated manipulation.

"Also," Levi continued, his gaze sweeping between them, "it wounds me, frankly, to see how a powerful, rich family like yours is essentially ostracized from the inner circles of the very nobles whose lavish houses you have built for generations. You laid the very foundations of their comfort and prestige, yet you are kept at arm's length, deemed… commoners."

He let the subtle insult hang in the air, appealing to any lingering resentment they might harbor towards the aristocracy. "That, gentlemen, is a shortsightedness on their part. And perhaps… an opportunity for us to recognize where true influence lies."

Mr. Volkov leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression clouding his features. He tapped his fingers again, his gaze drifting towards the far wall, as if needing a moment to process Levi's pointed words. The appeal to his family's self-made success and the subtle jab at the nobles' social exclusion seemed to have struck a chord. A sigh escaped his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Levi's statement.

Dmitri, however, remained focused, his sharp gaze fixed on Levi.

"Levi," Dmitri began, his voice low and direct, cutting through the momentary silence. "Your… insights into the current political and social landscape are… compelling. And your point about our company's standing is… noted. However, the matter of the plans themselves remains. You speak of mutual benefit and future opportunities. What, specifically, do you envision in return for our… cooperation?"

Levi's smile returned, but this time it held a sharper edge, a hint of the power he now knew he wielded in this room. "Do you truly wish to know, Dmitri?" he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let us just say... the future holds opportunities for those who are willing to see beyond the gilded cages of the past. Opportunities for significant influence. Opportunities that could elevate the Volkov family beyond even their current considerable standing."

He paused, allowing his words to hang in the air, thick with unspoken promises. "Think of it, Dmitri. You have the blueprints to the very foundations of noble power. In the right hands... those blueprints could rewrite the entire structure."

Mr. Volkov remained silent, his gaze distant, seemingly lost in contemplation of the potential future Levi had painted. Dmitri's sharp eyes, however, remained fixed on Levi, a flicker of intrigue warring with his inherent caution.

Sensing the delicate balance of the moment, I decided to interject, my voice calm and measured. "Gentlemen," I began, drawing their attention away from Levi for a moment. "While the potential for future opportunities is certainly… compelling, perhaps we could return to the more immediate matter of ensuring the Volkov family's continued discretion and security in this endeavor."

I directed my gaze towards Mr. Volkov. "Your reputation, as you mentioned, is paramount. Any collaboration would, of course, be handled with the utmost confidentiality. Levi's… methods are nothing if not discreet." I offered a reassuring smile, hoping to smooth over the potentially unsettling implications of Levi's ambition.

My interjection served a dual purpose: to subtly acknowledge the Volkovs' concerns about their reputation and to gently steer the conversation away from the more overtly manipulative aspects of Levi's pitch, at least for the moment.

"Indeed, Raphael," Mr. Volkov said, nodding slowly, a sense of relief washing over his features at the shift in focus. "Discretion is paramount. Levi, while your vision for the future is… intriguing, we need to be absolutely certain that our cooperation will remain entirely confidential. What specific measures can you guarantee?"

"Mr. Volkov," Levi began, his voice dropping to a low, confidential tone, leaning slightly across the table. "You mentioned the relief my company provided for your late father. A difficult time for your family, I understand. And a matter handled with the utmost… discretion, wouldn't you agree? A level of privacy that ensured certain… details remained within a very tight circle, shielded even from other members of your own household, I believe."

Wait. Shit. Did Levi kill this man father, for him? Oh God! This man… This devil of a man… I clenched my fist under the table to hide my racing thoughts.

A flicker of something dark crossed Mr. Volkov's features. He didn't verbally acknowledge Levi's veiled reference, but the subtle tightening of his jaw, the almost imperceptible nod, spoke volumes. He understood. He understood the level of secrecy Levi was capable of, the lengths he was willing to go to.

Dmitri, however, seemed oblivious. His focus remained on the more immediate concern of the building plans. "Regardless of past discretions, Levi," he interjected, his voice pragmatic, "the risk associated with these plans is significant. What is your timeline? What exactly do you intend to do with them once you have them?"

Levi's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, Dmitri," Levi said smoothly, his voice laced with a subtle deference. "That is a question best directed to your father. He possesses a more… comprehensive understanding of the long-term implications of our potential collaboration."

He held Mr. Volkov's gaze for a beat longer, a silent prompt, before turning back to Dmitri with an almost innocent expression. "Trust me, the timeline is… fluid, dependent on various factors. But the eventual outcome will be… mutually beneficial. Your father understands the larger picture, the potential for… reshaping certain landscapes."

Mr. Volkov hesitated, his gaze flickering between Levi and his son. A sigh escaped his lips, a mixture of weariness and a dawning resignation in his expression. He finally met Dmitri's questioning stare.

"Dmitri," he began, his voice low and somewhat strained, "Levi's… vision… it extends beyond mere acquisition of blueprints. He speaks of… facilitating certain shifts. Realignment of… influence." He chose his words carefully, avoiding any direct mention of the nobles or the potential upheaval Levi implied.

Dmitri's brow furrowed. "Transitions? What kind of transitions, Father? And what role does that place the Volkov family in?"

Mr. Volkov cleared his throat, a weary smile gracing his lips. "Enough plotting for one night, wouldn't you say, gentlemen? An old man like me needs his rest, lest I lose track of all these… transitions and realignments." He chuckled softly, the sound lacking its earlier heartiness.

He rose slowly from his chair. "Levi, your… vision is certainly… thought-provoking. Perhaps we can continue this discussion at another time, when I've had a chance to fully digest everything. Dmitri, see our guests to the door."

Dmitri, rose as well, his gaze still sharp as he looked at Levi. "Of course. Levi, Raphael, thank you for the… enlightening conversation. We will be in touch." His tone was polite but reserved, the earlier warmth replaced by a cautious neutrality.

"Thank you for your time," Levi said smoothly, extending a hand to Dmitri. His smile was polite but lacked the genuine charm he had displayed earlier.

Dmitri accepted the handshake, his grip firm but cool. "We will be in contact," he repeated, his gaze direct and assessing.

As Dmitri escorted us to the imposing front doors, a figure detached itself from the shadows near the grand staircase. It was Alexei, a soft smile gracing his lips as he approached.

"Levi, Raphael," he said, his gaze primarily focused on me. "I trust your departure is… not yet final?"

Dmitri paused, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before he masked it with polite neutrality. Levi, however, simply raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression as he observed the unfolding interaction.

Alexei stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he addressed me directly. "The night is still young, Raphael. And the mansion… it holds many interesting corners yet to be explored. Perhaps a nightcap? Away from all this… serious talk?" His gaze flickered towards his brother and Levi, a clear invitation for me to slip away with him.

Alexei's persistence was unsettling, and I was acutely aware of the potential implications of either accepting or rejecting his advances, especially under the watchful eyes of his brother and Levi.

"Thank you, Alexei, but I'm not really looking for company beyond my husband tonight," I said, keeping my tone polite but firm. I offered a small, polite smile, making sure my gaze didn't linger. "It was nice talking with you earlier."

Alexei's smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time. A flicker of something unreadable – perhaps disappointment, perhaps a hint of annoyance – crossed his features before he quickly masked it.

"Of course," he said smoothly, his charm momentarily faltering before snapping back into place. "Business calls, I understand." He directed a polite nod towards Levi. "Safe travels."

Dmitri, who had been observing the exchange with a quiet intensity, offered a curt nod as well.

...

The moment the penthouse door clicked shut behind us, the facade I had maintained throughout the evening crumbled. The surroundings of our home felt strangely sterile, tainted by the darkness I had glimpsed at the Volkov mansion.

"Levi," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the question heavy with dread, "did you… kill Mr. Volkov's father?"

Levi turned, his expression unreadable for a fleeting moment before settling into a look of mild surprise, tinged with a hint of amusement.

"Oh, pulla

," he said softly, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. His touch, usually a source of comfort, now sent a shiver of unease through me. "What would be the point of killing someone who was already clutches away from his last breath? It would have been… inefficient.” He tilted his head, his eyes searching mine. "I simply offered the grieving family, and the late Mr. Volkov himself, a moment of ease. An act of mercy, if you will. His suffering was considerable. My company provided a… solution."

"A moment of ease"? A "solution"? The euphemisms were chilling.

"But… the secrecy," I pressed, my voice trembling slightly. "Shielded even from his own family…"

Levi's eyes darkened slightly. "Sometimes, Pulla, the greatest acts of kindness require a degree of discretion. Family dynamics can be complicated. It was a private matter, handled with the utmost care for all involved."

His explanation was smooth, rationalizing the secrecy, but it did little to quell the knot of dread in my stomach. Mercy or manipulation? Kindness or control? With Levi, the line was often blurred, and tonight, it felt dangerously so.

"And you dangle that information in front of Mr. Volkov," I said, accusing, "about his late father..."

Levi's expression remained calm, almost serene. He moved away from me, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid from a decanter on a nearby table. The clinking of the glass seemed loud in the sudden silence.

"Leverage," he said, taking a slow sip. "Information is a currency, often more valuable than gold. The Volkovs needed to understand the level of discretion I am capable of. A gentle reminder of past… collaborations serves that purpose."

He swirled the liquid in his glass, his gaze distant. "Did I expedite the old man's departure? Perhaps. Perhaps not. What matters is what Mr. Volkov believes. And what he believes is that I am a man who can keep secrets, a man who can handle… delicate situations with the utmost discretion. That understanding makes him amenable to future cooperation."

"So, it's all a game to you, isn't it?" I asked, my voice laced with a mixture of anger and a growing sense of unease. "People's lives, their deaths… just pieces on your board?"

Levi finally turned back to me, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Life is a game. And those who understand the rules, those who know how to play… they are the ones who survive, who thrive. Sentimentality is a weakness in this world. I offer solutions. Sometimes those solutions are… unconventional."

He set down his glass and walked towards me again, his gaze intense. "Don't look at me with such judgment. You are a player in this game now too. You are learning the rules."

"Well…" I said, the words feeling brittle on my tongue, "at least you didn't threaten Mr. Volkov with death."

Levi chuckled softly, a sound that held no real humor. "Threats are for the unimaginative. Subtle persuasion, strategic leverage… those are the tools of true influence. Besides," his eyes gleamed with a hint of calculation, "Mr. Volkov will be a powerful ally. He shakes the hands of royalty, nobles, politicians, even the commoners. A man with such extensive connections is far more valuable alive and… cooperative."

He stepped closer, his gaze shifting, the previous darkness replaced by a sharp, assessing curiosity. "But I have something else to ask. That little bug called Alexei… what did he want with you?"

"Just a man who didn't know what boundaries meant," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, dismissive. "Brief flirting. Nothing of consequence." I shrugged, hoping the gesture conveyed disinterest. The less Levi knew about Alexei's persistent interest, the better.

Levi remained silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, as if trying to read the truth in my eyes. Finally, a dangerous glint entered his eyes, his jaw tightening. "That little insect bothered you?"

He stepped closer, his intensity palpable. "Because if he so much as looked at you in a way that displeased you… I can crush him for you. Also," he continued, his voice gentler now, though still firm, "you have agency, pulla. You are capable. Next time anyone unwanted becomes… intrusive, you are not without recourse. Make your displeasure known. I trust you to handle such nuisances… effectively. And I will always ensure your… peace is maintained."

It is both a reassuring and a terrifying thing, to be under the protection of him.

He tried to mask his undesirable nature with charm and affection, but the cracks were widening. It was clear as day, in the cold calculation in his eyes, the utter lack of empathy when discussing the Volkovs, the casual acceptance of morally ambiguous actions – he didn’t even see other people as fully human.

He created, he destroyed, all in service of a greater plan, for his own amusement. I was a part of that plan, a piece he valued, for now. But the thought of what would happen if I ever deviated, if I ever became an obstacle… that sent a fresh wave of fear through me.

No. Stop spiraling. You knew it. You knew his nature from the start, the glint in his eyes, the casual disregard for societal norms when it suited his purposes. The terrifying truth was that I had allowed myself to become comfortable in his orbit, seduced by the power and the affection he offered, conveniently overlooking the darkness that always lurked beneath the surface.

The best I can do, for myself, for the people around him – no, even for everyone in this country who might one day fall under his influence – is to find a way for him to channel his dark energy. To steer his destructive tendencies towards targets that deserve it, to manipulate for a greater good, if such a thing were even possible with someone like Levi.

"Charm… not terror, Levi," I said, my voice a low whisper.

"Precisely," he said, his voice laced with genuine admiration. "It has been thoroughly amusing to watch you today. You remembered my delicate constitution regarding certain cuisines," he chuckled softly, "and you steered the conversation with a finesse that would make a seasoned diplomat envious. And that carefully worded olive branch to Mr. Volkov… impeccable."

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and something akin to affection. "You see, dear? Our natures, seemingly contradicting, often clashing… that is our greatest weapon. I can be the shadow, the threat, the one who elicits fear and demands compliance. And you… you can be the light, the charmer, the one who builds bridges and earns trust."

"So… good cop, bad cop situation?" I echoed, a thoughtful expression on my face.

"An oversimplification, perhaps. More like… storm and calm. Fire and ice. We approach from different angles, wielding different tools, but ultimately… towards the same goal."

He reached out, his hand gently taking mine. "Tonight, pulla, you showed me a glimpse of your potential in this game. You are learning."

“Yeah, I watched you… How you held information as a weapon with a smile… It is still scary, even after everything I heard from you. You should be the one who is an actor.”

Levi's thumb traced a slow circle on the back of my hand. "And you, pulla, watched me closely," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You saw how information, carefully held and strategically revealed, can be far more potent than any blade." A wry smile touched his lips. "Scary, you say? Perhaps. But effective. And you pulla, you wield your own kind of magic. The ability to draw people in, to disarm with a smile, to make them want to trust you. That is a power not to be underestimated."

"How do… even stop being affected by these? Like being desensitized…" I asked, the question a raw whisper, a plea for some kind of understanding or even a solution to the turmoil churning within me.

"If you wish to know the truth, pulla," he said, his voice low and earnest, "you, as a person, will never truly stop being affected by it. It is in your nature, the very fabric of your being as a human. Your abundant empathy, that capacity to feel the weight of the world around you… it will undoubtedly make this path harder for you. You will see the consequences, the human cost, in ways that others might not. It will prick your conscience, keep you awake at night."

He reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek. "But," he continued, his gaze intense, "with time, you will learn to build walls. Not to shut off your feelings entirely, for that would be a great loss, but to compartmentalize them. To create separate chambers within yourself, where you can acknowledge the darkness without letting it consume the light. You will learn when to open those chambers and when to keep them sealed, for your own sanity, for your own survival."

His words, though tinged with a certain pragmatism, offered a strange comfort. He wasn't suggesting I become like him.

A small, wry smile touched my lips. "You know," I said, tilting my head slightly, "for someone who has no empathy, you possess a remarkably keen understanding of human feelings."

Levi's eyes flickered, a hint of something unreadable passing through them. He stepped back slightly, a familiar air of detached observation returning to his demeanor. "It is precisely because of that," he said, his voice regaining its usual cool composure. "When you remove the messy, often illogical filter of sentimentality, all that is left is the underlying mechanics. Facts. Patterns of behavior. Predictable responses to stimuli."

He tapped his fingers, his gaze sharp and analytical. "I, as an overseeing eye, devoid of the inherent biases of feeling, have spent the last three decades observing humans. Intimately. Extensively. I may not feel the sting of betrayal or the warmth of affection, but I can see the intricate dance of those emotions, the predictable ways they shape actions, drive decisions. It is akin to studying a complex machine. You don't need to experience the friction of the gears to understand how they work, to anticipate their movements. In fact, detachment often provides a clearer, more objective perspective."

He might not feel what I felt, but he saw it, understood it on an intellectual level, and perhaps, in his own detached way, valued it.

“And I am an idiot, who gets swayed by you…”

"You are not an idiot for being drawn to connection, pulla," he said, his voice a low murmur. "It is a fundamental human desire. And I have learned to appreciate the warmth of your light in my often-shadowed world. Before we continue with our dance of desire and pleasure, Raphael," he said, his voice firm yet devoid of any harshness, "let me remind you one last time. I cannot offer you feelings, or love, or connection in the way that you, as a human, might crave them. No."

He held my gaze, his own unwavering and resolute. "The only thing I can offer you, as a human, is my undying loyalty. A commitment that transcends emotion, a steadfastness rooted in logic and… a certain possessiveness, perhaps. But not love. Never that."

A sigh escaped my lips, a quiet acknowledgment of a truth I continually wrestled with. "Yeah… I know… It is even harder for me to admit it now, but I know. Also," a faint smile touched my lips, a bittersweet memory surfacing, "I realized what you meant by loyalty while we were having dinner two weeks ago. So, loyalty above all else? Is that it?"

Levi's gaze softened infinitesimally, a flicker of something that might have been pride in his eyes. "Yes, Raphael. Loyalty above all else, even love. Love is… a volatile thing, prone to shifting tides and irrationality. Loyalty is a constant, a bedrock. As a human, I cannot offer you a warm connection, or gentle romance. But," his voice held a surprising note of sincerity, "if the time comes for you, if you find another human that can offer you what I lack, truthfully, I will not stand in your way. My loyalty would extend to ensuring your happiness, even if it lies beyond my reach."

It was really generous… So generous that it made me curios.

"So, you're saying…" I began, my voice a careful blend of curiosity and lingering apprehension, "if I found someone who could give me what I need… someone who could offer… that connection… you wouldn't be… angry? Possessive?"

I watched his face intently, searching for any flicker of the possessiveness he had admitted to earlier.

Levi's gaze softened, a surprising lack of the possessive glint I expected. "Angry? No. Disappointed, perhaps, that I could not provide what you truly sought. But angry? Never at you for seeking your own happiness. My loyalty, as I said, extends to that. Possessive…" He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Perhaps a pang. A fleeting sense of… something lost. But I would endeavor to… manage it. Your happiness, Raphael, would ultimately be my priority, even if it meant… a different arrangement."

"It sounds cute on paper, Levi," I admitted, my gaze unwavering, "a magnanimous declaration of prioritizing my happiness, even if it means stepping aside. But it also sounds like… bullshit." I stepped closer, tilting my head slightly, my eyes searching his. "Forgive me for my cynicism, but you, the man who meticulously controls every aspect of his life, who admitted to a 'certain possessiveness'… you would willingly stand aside if I found affection elsewhere? Really?"

A slow smile spread across Levi's lips, a familiar glint returning to his eyes. "Well, Pulla," he conceded, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to lightly trace the line of my jaw, "if the opportunity arises for you… not without a fight, no."

The honesty in his admission was almost disarming.

"I am not a creature of pure altruism, Raphael," he continued, his voice a low murmur. "The thought of you… connected to another in that way it would be… unsettling. But my loyalty dictates that your genuine happiness takes precedence, even over my own… discomfort. So, perhaps not 'willingly' in the purest sense of the word. But… ultimately. I would not stand in your way. I might make it… difficult. Persuasive. But I would not prevent it, if it were truly what you desired."

A genuine smile touched my lips, a sense of relief washing over me.

"This sounds more like you," I admitted, the smile widening. "Yeah. That… I can believe."

Levi's lips curved into a smile as well, a hint of his usual charm returning. "Good. Honesty, pulla. It is the most… efficient foundation for any arrangement, wouldn't you agree?" He reached out, taking my hand once more. "Now… about that dance of desire and pleasure we were interrupted from… I have some rather exciting ideas, pulla.”

Levi's plotting smile, that familiar curve of his lips that hinted at intricate plans and controlled outcomes, settled on his face.

"What are you scheming again, Levi?" I asked, my voice a low murmur, a mixture of playful suspicion and undeniable arousal. The shift in his demeanor, the subtle tension in the air, always preceded something… intense.

He chuckled softly, a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Nothing too elaborate, pulla. Just a desire to prolong our… shared experience. To explore certain… avenues with a more focused approach." His gaze flickered down my body, a silent promise in his eyes. "But first," he continued, his voice regaining its usual smooth command, "please do take a shower and join me in the bedroom, pulla."

A warmth spread through me, a familiar blend of anticipation and surrender. "Alright," I conceded, a soft smile playing on my lips. "Don't think I don't know you're plotting something."