Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

Well… there we were.

The bathhouse. It was a vision of serene luxury, bathed in the light filtering through the arched windows. Every surface was clad in white marble. In the very center, a circular hot pool steamed, its surface mirroring the light from concealed fixtures.

What truly captivated me, though, was the seamless blend of interior with the natural world outside. A significant portion of the bathhouse was enclosed by seamless panes of glass. From here, the expanse of the woods and the gardens were visible. The drizzle of rain from earlier had softened to a mist, making the view even more ethereal.

"And I thought your bedroom was opulent. This is on a whole other level of indulgence," I breathed, my gaze sweeping across the magnificent space, lingering on the intricate carvings of the marble on the ceiling. The light played across the surfaces, making the entire bathhouse shimmer.

Levi took his silk robe off, letting it fall silently to the floor. He stepped gracefully into the hot pool, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

Levi took a sharp breath?

I am going to get… boiled.

“I am going to get burned?”

“Yes,” he responded, his mouth a little agape, a faint flush across his chest.

I am going to be rabbit stew.

“Gods, you did not even sugarcoat it. Is it that bad?” I said, and very slowly dipped my toe into the steaming water.

Oh my god. It was boiling. I pulled my foot back immediately, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. “The fuck? How can you stand there? Are you not getting burned?”

“I am being thoroughly cooked,” he breathed out, a flush still visible on his chest.

“I don’t want to be cooked, Levi,” I said as I stared at the scalding water. “I just wanted a warm bath,” I reiterated, emphasizing the word 'warm'.

“I can lower the temperature.”

“Yes, please.”

“Do you perceive a small bell, dear? It must be situated upon the table positioned near the entrance; kindly toll it. A servant will arrive promptly.”

My gaze darted to the marble table near the entrance of the sudatorium. Sure enough, a small golden bell rested there. With a hesitant sigh, I walked over and picked it up. It felt heavier than it looked. I gave it a tentative toll, a delicate chime echoed through the vast space.

It was only a moment later that a soft whirring sound filled the air, and a section of the wall beside the entrance slid inward. A servant stepped through. He was a tall, slender man with a neutral expression, his eyes not lingering on me more than necessary. He bowed deeply.

“How may I be of assistance, Master?”

"Please," I began. "Could you… could you lower the temperature of the water? Just... a bit." I winced internally, feeling foolish for asking a massive, ancient bathhouse to be adjusted.

The servant's neutral expression did not falter. “Certainly, Master.”

He turned and walked towards a marble-paneled section of the wall beside the pool. With a barely audible click, a series of valves and dials were revealed. He adjusted a large, brass wheel, and the intense billowing steam from the hot pool began to visibly lessen.

Meanwhile, Levi, still submerged in the water, observed the exchange with his characteristic stillness.

As the servant finished his adjustments, the sliding wall silently closed. Another soft whirring sound announced the arrival of two more servants, each bearing a silver tray. The first carried a bottle of wine, nestled in a bucket of ice, alongside two stemmed glasses. The second tray held an array of bowls and platters: slivers of aged cheese, fresh figs, glistening dark olives, and plump, sun-dried apricots. For Levi, a decanter of what appeared to be thick, golden nectar sat beside a single, larger goblet.

They placed the trays on the marble table situated near the edge of the pool. With a final bow, they retreated, the hidden door sliding shut behind them.

I finally slid my robe off, letting it pool around my feet. With a bracing breath, I slowly tried to lower my foot into the still-hot water, already wincing in anticipation.

Levi chuckled. “Bad idea, dear. Enter at once.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “Pour me wine,” I demanded, ignoring his amusement, and cautiously lowered my toe into the water again. Gods, it was still hot as fuck! I pulled my foot back immediately.

“Why did you not wait for the servants to perform that simple task, Raphael?” he asked, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

“Gods, I am sorry I was born poor, you noble kid with old money and five centuries of unbroken lineage. I did not grow up in a mansion full of servants waiting to do everything for me.” My cheeks felt hot, whether from embarrassment or the still-steaming water, I couldn't tell.

“Your lamentation regarding a less privileged upbringing is somewhat… anachronistic, given your current position, Raphael,” Levi said, watching my feet, which were barely below the water's surface. “You are now effectively a figure of immense wealth and power within Ascaria. To choose discomfort over convenience seems a curious preference.”

“First of all, did you just tell me to ‘check my privilege,’ Mr. Instilling Democracy in Ascaria?” I retorted. “Second, what the fuck does anachronism even mean?” I demanded, as my ankle finally slipped into the scalding water. A muffled yelp escaped me.

“To address your first query, Raphael,” Levi articulated, his voice even. “My endeavors in Ascaria are entirely distinct from your personal financial acumen. As for your second inquiry, an anachronism denotes an element that is situated outside its proper time. Your continued adherence to a 'poor' identity when you possess immense wealth is an example of this incongruity.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled again, my voice tight with frustration as I started to lower my second ankle into the water. “Yes, I enjoy cheap beers that taste like ass water. I love visiting barbecue places that cook meat until it turns into a chewable tire, or places that should be properly sealed by authorities because they violate health laws, happy?” I said, glaring at him. “And I don’t enjoy being known by everyone, not anymore. It makes it hard to just… do anything I love, actually.” I added, gritting my teeth. The moment my second ankle submerged, a loud gasp escaped my lips despite my best efforts to suppress it.

“Your preference for such… unconventional culinary experiences and your aversion to public recognition are now duly registered,” Levi articulated, his voice calm, utterly unperturbed by my outburst. “Regarding the latter, however, you possess the capacity to mitigate your public profile.”

“Yeah, I wore disguises outside all the time, but it’s not enough. I want to go outside, pick a random bar, and drink. But it always is a spectacle. People want to take pictures, talk about my films. Which honestly feels great, but… it is sometimes too much. I don’t want to think about reservations, or public appeal; I just want to… do.” As I spoke, I placed my naked butt on the marble, bracing myself, ready to submerge my very sore region into the still-scalding water.

“The conflict between your public persona and your private inclinations is a common human dilemma,” Levi remarked, his voice even. “My capacity to resolve this is absolute. I can ensure your ability to ‘do’ without the consequence of fame. A secure, private environment, tailored precisely to your specifications, can be instantaneously arranged. You need only specify your requirements.”

Ah, he’s talking about Raphaelville. Again.

It’s terrifying, his willingness to reshape reality, to buy and build entire towns just to satisfy a fleeting desire of mine. And yet… the thought of a truly anonymous life, where I could just be without the weight of expectation or the constant glare of attention…

“And what would be the cost of this 'secure, private environment,' Levi? Beyond the financial, of course.”

Gods. Did I really just ask… Levi to build a Raphaelville? His villainy was starting to rub off on me.

“Virtually none, dear,” he shrugged. “I already own the entirety of the woods surrounding our domicile. I can build houses for your friends, build establishments tailored to your needs. I can even purchase ownership of any chain brand to your liking, whether it be a fast food franchise, a coffee shop… Anything, Raphael. You need only ask for it.”

“You speak of this as if it's the most natural thing in the world, Levi. Buying entire chains, building a town… Do you even grasp the sheer absurdity of what you're offering?” I said, my voice rising in disbelief, but even as I spoke, I braced myself and started to lower my butt cheeks into the hot water. Gods! It burned like hell. Before I could yelp or stand up, Levi placed his hands firmly on my hips, holding me in place.

“Dear,” he murmured. “I am simply offering. Whether to take it or not is… your decision, not mine. Place your hands upon my shoulders.”

I placed my hands on his shoulders, my fingers gripping the smooth skin of his back.

“I will slowly lower you, dear.”

“It’s gonna burn, Levi,” I said, my body tensing in anticipation of the heat.

“At first, yes. But you would get accustomed to it.” He began to slowly lower my hips.

A searing heat enveloped me, rising from the water to engulf my skin. “Gods! Levi! It’s burning!” I exclaimed, my muscles tensing.

“Focus upon your breath. It is a transient discomfort. Allow the warmth to permeate your muscles, to alleviate the aches from your recent exertions.”

I continued to descend, the water rising past my navel, then my chest. My body screamed, but Levi’s calm demeanor, his steady hands, and that bizarrely soothing tone kept me from bolting. After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only seconds, the initial agony began to dull, replaced by a deep heat that permeated my very bones.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Gods… We visited the spa just yesterday… But this is… so different from that, you know?” I said, the words muffled as I buried my face into his wet chest. His strong grip on my hips made me feel so… safe.

He chuckled softly. “Yes, dear,” he murmured, his hands adjusting their hold.

“This is… surprisingly therapeutic. Even if it did feel like I was being boiled alive at first,” I said, now feeling less like a stew and more like a… properly roasted, juicy rabbit.

“It is, dear. Do you wish for me to release you?”

I don’t. I enjoy being enveloped in his strong arms.

“Only if you’re going to pour me wine,” I said, my voice a soft murmur against his chest.

...

“I have a… question,” I said, taking a slow sip of the wine after swirling it in the glass. “This bathhouse… What exactly is its purpose, other than… bathing?” I asked, gesturing vaguely around the sudatorium.

“Hm…” he mused, his eyes sweeping over the white marble, the steaming pool, and the seamless glass that opened to the woods. “Rather aesthetically pleasing, is it not?” he inquired, a subtle appreciation in his tone. “It was indeed utilized for cleansing and the relaxation of muscles, yes, but it was also a communal place for various noble houses to gather. Here, they would discuss matters of warfare, peace, treaties, commercial endeavors, or perhaps simply engage in convivial activities.”

“So, these ‘convivial activities’ often involved backstabbing in the steam, I imagine?” I asked as I pictured generations of nobles plotting in this very water.

“Think of it from a detached perspective, if you will,” Levi articulated, taking a sip of his nectar. “You are relaxed. Your body and mind are floating like the vapors. Would you not be inclined to simply… sign whatever paper someone presented?”

Here I am, softened by the heat, my body languid, my mind drifting. If he presented me with a contract right now, I wouldn’t even read the fine print before signing.

“Yeah… I see your point about that,” I sighed.

“Aside from that,” he articulated, gesturing around the place with his goblet. “This place used to have a natural wellspring, hence the bathhouse. But within centuries, it unfortunately dried. However, before its cessation, it was pouring scorching hot water, which was, to put it simply, bubbling. What does boiling water do, aside from inflicting severe epidermal damage? Rebullition. It creates an auditory barrier, creating a soundproof environment within this chamber.”

Deals, confessions, threats, assassinations, all drowned out by the roar of boiling water.

“Gods, Levi. You find the most charming ways to describe the dark side of power. But… why don’t you live here? I have a vague idea, but… I want to hear it from you.”

“I cannot experience hate as you do, Raphael,” he said. “It is too strong an emotion for me. But… I scorn this place. I despise every stone, every marble, every window, every door, every oil portrait, every room, every library, every study, and every blue tile of its roof.”

“You’re not just rejecting the place, are you? You’re rejecting what it represents,” I said, my voice softer now, sensing a shift in his composure.

“Indeed. This mansion was constructed by my slave-owning ancestors, Raphael. To reside here is simply to stand against my sense of justice, however unconventional. This specific area,” he said, pointing towards the woods, “is where my grandfather hunted. The memories of it haunted me for three decades of my existence. I was only able to escape this house by means of my arranged marriage to Julia.”

“I have a question about Julia… She hates you so much. She hates you to the point of buying Salted Sugar, knowing that you despise that bakery. Why is that?”

He turned his face fully towards me. “Would you not hate me, Raphael?”

Hate him? He’s manipulative, yes, and controlling. He’s undeniably ruthless. He orchestrated entire lives, even mine, into this bizarre, strategic dance. And he's a master at turning everything into a transaction. He's the very embodiment of the calculated Devil I once feared.

“From what Julia told me, about you not informing her before your marriage, about dissolving the nobility… I guess she was distrusting of you, and eventually that turned into… hate,” I said. “And… From her perspective, knowing that she was your biggest ally… Knowing that you two even faked a pregnancy to achieve your objectives…” I trailed off, the memories of the black files vivid in my mind.

“You comprehend my relationship with Julia, Raphael,” he said, his voice calm and even. “We were groomed into that marital union commencing at the tender age of five. She was… rather timid as a child, owing to the constant abuse she endured from her father. That was their paramount error. Julia abhorred the nobility, as I did. Those structured play dates, which eventually evolved into clandestine meetings, transformed this mansion into a somewhat sacred place for her, as I was neither a violent child nor did I ever make any untoward advances upon her. We were both infinitely cognizant that this marriage was not borne of our consent, but ultimately, we possessed neither the power nor the leverage to oppose it.”

He shifted slightly in the water. “I assume she placed her trust in me during our childhood, as I exhibited a protective disposition towards my sister. I suppose her inherent nature perceived me as somewhat ‘warm’ in character. A monumental oversight on her part, I might add. Fast forward to our marriage; I laid out my entire strategic plan to her. She flinched away, as an eighteen-year-old would, yet she understood what she had to undertake to extricate herself, and myself. Given our mutual refusal to engage in sexual intercourse, she was subjected to harsh critiques from the noble stratum for not fulfilling her ‘duty’. This, I presume, cultivated her resentment towards me.

“Her animosity was not engendered by any direct harm I inflicted upon her. As I was largely absent, residing at the Royal Academia for four years, we did not encounter each other frequently. It was born, rather, from the realization that she was utilized by me, day after day, towards our collective objective. Which included ensuring her father never awakened from his coma. That mummified swine remains blissfully unaware that his own daughter orchestrated his enduring incapacitation, and that the nobility is… irrevocably gone.”

“So, she didn't hate you for what you did, but for how you did it. For being a means to an end, even a shared one,” I said, taking a sip of my wine.

“Presumably, yes. It is also the fact that, eventually, our disparate personalities began to clash,” he articulated, his voice perfectly level. “Raphael, the comprehensive strategic undertaking we executed over those fifteen years exacted nothing less than a profound emotional toll upon all individuals involved. It should not come as a revelation to anyone that she began to feel unsafe, scared, and terrified by my meticulousness and, indeed, my ruthlessness. She confessed immense guilt and shame. Yet, despite these internal conflicts, she still executed what was required.”

What strength that must have taken, to willingly endure that for so long, to participate in such a chillingly calculated war on her own kind, all while being consumed by fear and self-reproach.

“And what about your own ‘emotional toll,’ Levi? Fifteen years of that kind of meticulousness… it must have left a mark, even on you,” I asked, my voice softer now.

“Hm…” he hummed, true contemplation crossing his countenance. “I recall two instances that elicited a truly visceral reaction,” he said. “The first occurred when I experienced profound emesis after being compelled to forgo condoms with that noblewoman; I was coerced into it, as I required specific intelligence, and at that juncture, I was merely twenty, lacking the necessary leverage to refuse. It was… profoundly disagreeable.”

“The second instance was my divorce from Julia. To present myself before the court and articulate the statement, ‘my wife did not fulfill her duty,’” he continued, his voice hardening, “it repulsed me to my very core. Other than instances of annoyance or frustration, not many other emotions were actively engaged within me.”

“You call it disgust, repulsion. For anyone else, that would be rage, or deep despair. Is that the closest you get to those feelings, Levi?”

“How am I precisely supposed to know what ‘despair’ feels like?”

Unmoved, unburdened by the emotional weight of it all, yet paradoxically shaped by it.

“That must be an incredibly isolating way to exist, Levi. To comprehend so much, yet to be untouched by so many… human depths.”

“Isolating and lonely, yes,” he said, devoid of self-pity. “Which is also… boring beyond the very bounds of sanity. Not to boast, but if one also considers my intellect, that pervasive boredom is amplified exponentially. Which was precisely why I resolved to end my existence, since the boredom had achieved its fever pitch, an attempt which you, Raphael, arrested.” He set the empty goblet down.

The universe works in such brutal ironies. How do you fill that void? The impulse to reach for him, not in fear, but in a desperate, overwhelming pity, is almost unbearable. What do I even do with this? What do I say?

My fingers clenched around the stem of my wine glass, eyes fixed beyond a point, grappling with the profound desolation Levi had just laid bare. Levi, meanwhile, with fluid grace, poured himself another generous amount of his golden nectar. He paused, his gaze, sharp and assessing, finding mine. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novｅlfire.net

“Oh?” he mused, a knowing tilt to his head. “Is this what I surmise it to be? Do you, perchance, contemplate the endeavor of attempting to alleviate my boredom? I must caution you, Raphael, my personal suicidal ideations are not your burden, nor is it your designated responsibility to address them. I have not entertained any thoughts of concluding my existence since my attempt… which transpired approximately eight months prior. Considering I have also successfully abstained from resorting to opioids, I am inclined to presume my therapeutic regimen is functioning, rather effectively.”

“Gods, Levi,” I breathed out. “What do you imagine, that I would clink my glass to yours after you casually declare you attempted to kill yourself because you were bored? Obviously, I am concerned.” I tightened my grip on the stem of my wine glass. “It does not necessarily have to be my responsibility; you are my husband. Of course, I am worried about your well-being. But, yes. Eight months clean… that is a significant achievement.”

“Hm… Are we still endeavoring to the niceness rule, dear?”

“What was the reason for that question? Just say what you wanted to say.”

He leaned in and placed a fleeting kiss upon my cheek.

“Are you trying to comfort me, or apologize, or… show your gratitude?”

He placed another light kiss on my cheek. “Does your neurotypical cognition necessitate a singular, uncomplicated rationale for every action, Raphael?” He placed another kiss, equally brief. “I kissed your cheek,” he articulated, “because I desired to.” He then placed yet another kiss, quick and unerring.

“Alright, I get it. You wanted to. And you're making sure I know it with the... 'woodpecker technique',” I said.

“Indeed,” he affirmed, a faint curve playing on his lips. “It is… very amusing to observe.” He then reached out and placed a soft kiss on my damp hair. “Not passionate kisses, but small kisses that effectively unravel you.” He placed a kiss upon my forehead.

“Yeah, because they are so… un-Levi-like,” I sighed.

“Hm,” he mused. His hand gently cupped the back of my head, and placed his nose against my damp hair strands, his eyes closing for a moment. “Why would they be?”

“Because everything you’ve ever done, Levi, has been so… calculated. So deliberate. So devoid of… spontaneity or overt affection,” I explained, trying not to sound accusatory. “You’ve always been about objective, about leverage, about getting a result. These kisses… they don’t seem to have an objective. They just are.”

“They do have an objective, dear.” He rubbed his nose against my hair. “I enjoy them, and you, presumably, enjoy them; therefore, I execute them.”

“You actually enjoy this, then?”

“Dear,” he murmured, a melodic tone, as he leaned closer. “Why do you consistently assume the negative, specifically concerning yourself?” He then placed a light kiss on my cheek. “You are my Pulla, you are exquisitely soft, wonderfully warm. You possess a most agreeable scent, and I derive considerable enjoyment from the warmth of your skin as it grazes my lips, or the subtle scent that fills my nostrils, or the feeling of your marble-smooth skin beneath my touch.”

“It’s… not about you, it’s my own insecure self, Levi,” I admitted, a soft chuckle escaping me. “And… you really are a creature of sensory experience.”

“Hm, consider it, dear,” he murmured as he nuzzled his face onto my shoulder. “Oxytocin, serotonin, and adrenaline do not register within my cerebral cortex, or if they do, their impact is diminished. Thus, I indulge myself with the singular, exquisite scent of yours.”

I placed my arms over his damp back. “Nuzzling like a canine on my shoulder, Levi?” I chuckled.

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes met mine. A rather feline-like purr, vibrated from deep within his chest – a distinct Levi purr.

“I am capable of executing a significantly greater number of actions, if you so desire, dear.”

Gods. Is this… sex, again? Right now? Are we truly about to engage in such activity in this very place?