Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

We were now submerged in the colossal bathtub, both of us completely soaked. Gods, there were rose petals floating on the surface.

“Why the rose petals?” I asked, a chuckle bubbling up as I flicked a wet petal off my arm.

Levi, leaning back against the porcelain, simply raised an eyebrow. “Because we occupy the same bedchamber, Raphael and our requisitions for lubricant occur at least twice daily.” A beat passed, then he continued, “The staff, I surmise, are endeavoring to express their observations through creative means, quite possibly attempting to instruct me in the nuances of contemporary courtship rituals.”

“And you just accept this as a valid interpretation of their intent? You’re entirely unbothered by the fact that our private life is now the subject of their romantic experimentation, all because of a twice-daily necessity?” I pressed, gesturing around the ridiculously adorned bathroom.

“I certainly did not request rose petals, nor,” he stated, gesturing towards the numerous lit candles casting dancing shadows on the marble walls, “did I request these rather superfluous candles, given the perfectly functional light fixture above. I articulated a need for a warm bath. Therefore, yes, this is my logical deduction. The staff, having experienced a relative lack of engagement over the preceding five years, is now in active pursuit of novel activities. And, dear,” he inquired, “are you perhaps embarrassed?”

Embarrassed that our private life was apparently the subject of staff-wide analysis? Absolutely. Embarrassed that Levi, with his utterly unique brand of oblivious candor, had just broken down the “romantic” gesture to its most logistical, lubricant-based components? Infinitely.

“Obviously, I am embarrassed,” I retorted. “And I am also embarrassed about asking people for lubricant. It’s… vulgar, isn’t it?”

Gods. Why did I ask? I already knew the answer he would give me.

“Which part of it is vulgar?” he inquired, devoid of judgment. “The implication that lubrication facilitates sexual congress? Or the logistical act of requesting its provision from individuals engaged in domestic service?”

“Both?” I repeated. “Both that people know we are having sex, and we shamelessly ask them to bring us lubricant.”

Levi, with an innocent splash of water, shifted in the tub, his face genuinely perplexed. “But... why? I am certain they have engaged in coitus at some point in their lives, or at the very least, possess an adequate comprehension of the act. And lubricant is merely... a compound of water with glycol and various thickening agents. It is not as though we requested their active participation in the process.”

He just doesn’t get it, and he never will.

“Think of it as an unspoken rule of engagement, like not wearing a swimsuit to a formal dinner. It’s not illogical, it’s just... improper to some,” I offered, feeling a flicker of hope that this analogy, finally, might bridge the gap between our wildly disparate understandings of the world.

Levi lifted his gaze to the painted ceiling, his eyes seeming to trace a pattern amongst the frescoes. He was computing, categorizing. “Oh,” he articulated, a murmur that indicated a successful data input, “I understand. It is the perceived judgment.”

“Yeah, on a very broad term, yeah, it is about being judged. And… the hell do you mean by not asking for a participant? The fuck? Would that be embarrassing for you?” I asked, my voice rising in disbelief.

“I would probably incur legal action, specifically accusations of sexual assault, dear. And no, I would not experience embarrassment. However, it would constitute a blatant abuse of power. Additionally, I am currently unaware if the terms of the staff’s employment contracts contain specific clauses pertaining to sexual advances from the employers.”

“Okay…” I said, my fingers pressing against my temple, trying to process the chilling logic. “You wouldn’t do that, I know it… But, explain that clause thing better. I’m sensing something really disgusting.”

Levi scoffed. The rose petals around him remained undisturbed, as if even they sensed the shift in the conversation’s gravitas. “Thank you for the accurate assessment of my character, Raphael; obviously, I would not go and harass an employee,” he said, his eyes sharp. “Also, do you conveniently forget that this house staff belongs to a duchy? I am quite certain there exists some clause regarding a scenario wherein a member of the nobility, or perhaps even a direct member of the ducal family, were to engage in harassment. They would, in all probability, be contractually obligated to either accept it or remain silent concerning the matter.”

That was utterly, profoundly disgusting. It wasn’t just hypothetical for Levi.

“And this is why you despise this place. Not just because it’s old, but because of the sheer, systemic inhumanity built into its foundations. The ‘ancient grime,’ indeed…”

“That is why I dissolved the nobility, Raphael,” he stated, his voice flat. “Now, if you were to simply ring that bell,” he continued, pointing a finger, “and order any individual on staff to wash your genitals, they would perform that task. Because it is a part of their contractual obligations. You could even pursue the matter further. They are, in all probability, contractually obligated to comply.”

“And you believe that, even now, with the monarchy abolished, that contractual obligation still stands for the staff here?” I asked.

“I cannot ascertain that, Raphael,” he said, “as I do not possess direct oversight of their employment agreements. The deceased butler managed such aspects. However, even in the absence of an explicit contractual obligation, one must consider that these individuals have spent numerous years within this establishment, and quite possibly originated from other noble houses.” He gestured vaguely, disturbing the rose petals. “It is not as though I disseminated a public job opening on a digital platform; they were likely referenced here by specific institutes or other noble households. Thus, there exists an ingrained conditioning regarding any situation involving sexual advances. Furthermore,” he paused, his gaze hardening slightly, “considering the pervasive naivety prevalent among many servants, the probability of them not even comprehending that such an action constitutes an act of harassment or abuse is remarkably high. They might even erroneously conclude their alleged ‘beloved master’ harbored some sentimental attachment for them. Observe, Raphael, this scenario was replicated countless times across the entirety of the former nobility.”

My stomach twisted. The maids I had just spoken to, the ones who had blushed at my compliments — they could be victims of this very conditioning. They might genuinely believe that Levi’s detached attention, or even a horrific command, was a sign of favor.

“And the staff here... those maids I just spoke to... they could be among those who are so deeply conditioned? They might actually believe a request like that is a sign of affection?”

Levi observed me. “It is merely another facet of power asymmetry. Imagine, if you will, me, a duke possessing immense wealth and power, offering an innocent compliment to a servant. In any other conventional workplace, this scenario might warrant a formal complaint, possibly discussed by a human resources department. But within this environment? Such an innocuous remark might even be interpreted as an advance. What occurs then?”

He paused, allowing the question to hang in the air, before continuing his chilling dissection. “That servant, let us designate them ‘X,’ will undoubtedly discuss this perceived ‘advance’ with their peers. And those other servants, recognizing the potential for upward mobility or favorable treatment, will encourage them, perhaps stating, ‘Yes, follow it; he is interested.’ What then transpires? The duke, in this scenario, no longer needs to exert any additional effort. Because ‘X’ is now in a state of euphoric anticipation. The stage is set. ‘X’ is engrossed in fantasies concerning their ‘beloved master,’ dreaming of the possibility of immense wealth and power — a contrast to their usual laborious task of washing soiled garments. There is nothing inherently romantic or sentimental about this dynamic, Raphael. It is simply abuse, disguised beneath the veneer of ‘forbidden love’ gossip exchanged among the servants.”

The horror of it was so vast, so systemic, it made my skin crawl.

“My God, Levi. I’m going to think twice when I watch a romance movie now,” I muttered.

“Well,” he said, “let us postulate an alternative scenario then. Imagine the duke and ‘X’ genuinely enamored, their relationship enduring against all societal impediments. What then? Power asymmetry does not dissipate overnight. ‘X’ might indeed attain the title of duchess, yet they would possess no prior education in managing the vast domestic affairs of a ducal estate, nor in the intricate task of delegating envoys, orchestrating elaborate formal parties, ceremonies, or galas, or indeed, fulfilling any of the myriad other ducal responsibilities. The most fundamental of these, etiquette training, would be entirely absent. Other seasoned noble houses, those steeped in generations of entrenched social protocol, would skin X alive at a mere tea party.”

The “happily ever after” was a lie because the very system of power was designed to ensure that such a union would be a social death sentence.

I could see it, the cutting remarks, the deliberate slights, the subtle exclusions designed to dismantle someone not just socially, but psychologically.

“And what about me? If I were ‘X’ and not your husband, would I have been ‘skinned alive’ at a tea party, too? Despite all your power?”

Levi’s gaze was steady, piercing, as he considered my query. “You were fortunate, Raphael,” he said, devoid of emotion, yet carrying the weight of absolute factual accuracy. “Since you are a man, the very concept of gay marriage inherently nullified my ducal status within the antiquated framework of the former nobility.” He paused, then leaned back against the porcelain. “However, in a hypothetical scenario where you, Raphael, were to assume the role of the Duchess, married to me, and retaining your commoner and foreigner status, then yes. You would be. No power, not even mine, could entirely shield you from the whispers prevalent at those noble gatherings. Can you even conceive of the venom they would unleash behind your back?” His eyes held mine. “Your perceived lack of appropriate aristocratic education and your unfamiliarity with their rigid social codes would serve as the ideal ammunition to strategically undermine your position, allowing them to subsequently present me with more ‘suitable’ alternatives — mistresses or other noblewomen — thereby ensuring the ducal title and its responsibilities would belong to those they deemed the ‘rightful’ individuals.”

“And what about your education, your training in this system? You navigated it perfectly, even while despising it. Was it... a similar kind of performance for you?” I asked, looking at him, to see the man who had dismantled a world.

Levi let out a sharp burst of laughter, utterly devoid of mirth. “My education, Raphael, was provided by my mother; she is, to be precise, the architect of my being.” He shifted slightly in the water, the rose petals swirling around him, his expression one of visceral distaste as he recalled those memories. “I observed and learned how to metaphorically ‘end’ an individual’s social standing with a sigh. Or how to extract information from subtle shifts in body language and inflection.”

Raw revulsion passed through his eyes. “Furthermore, I was prominent within noble circles, given my position on the Council of the Royal Palace. And as a particularly rare ‘male’ born within the last five decades of the already dwindling numbers of noble families, I was, quite literally, a ‘stud horse’.” He emphasized the phrase with a sneer of disgust. “I was presented with a veneer of niceness that incited a desire to physically excise my own skin, purely because I was acutely aware of the underlying motivations. None of them genuinely enjoyed my presence; I was wealthier than them, and that deceased monarch swine was notably fond of me. However, owing to my advantageous social standing and my ‘breeding capabilities,’ they were compelled to feign civility towards me. Ugh. Please, Raphael, let us confine our discourse to hypotheticals. I have no desire to revisit those particular memories.”

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“W-What about… your mother…. Did you decide to do anything about it?”

Levi shifted in the rose-scented water, the surface rippling around him.

“We have done something, Raphael. Isolde, Julia, and I arrived at a rather dramatic, but necessary, consensus. Our mother did, indeed, persist in her inquiries with those noblewomen, a persistence that ultimately led her to Elira and the twins.

“The adoption agency, you see, had a stringent clause in its contract: all parties agreed to maintain absolute confidentiality unless written statements from both sides were provided. My mother’s unilateral intervention, therefore, constituted a flagrant violation of this agreement. From a legal perspective, the transgression was a minor one. Trivial, even. We did, however, find it a most opportune piece of leverage, which facilitated our ability to guide her towards a therapeutic institution.”

“So... she is at the facility now, after I took her from the island?” I asked.

“Raphael, you must understand, I bear no resentment for your actions.” He paused, his expression still and composed. “The psychological weight of her presence had diminished to a point where the act no longer carried the emotional valence it once did. For that, I am, in a manner of speaking, indebted to you.”

He continued, his voice taking on a detached tone. “I observed that your decision was, in all probability, an impulsive one, driven by a momentary pang of empathy for a woman you perceived as a frail, starving creature. This was, I believe, directly influenced by your recent and rather dramatic discovery of my addiction. A decision, therefore, was made in a manner that did not factor in its potential ramifications.” He leaned back against the tub’s edge. “In the final analysis, she left the island, briefly agitated the quiet waters, and has now been secured in a long-term care facility. It is a certainty that she will be adequately provisioned for, and an equal certainty that she will not be leaving.”

He was right. It was impulsive. It was stupid and emotional.

“I... understand. I was just so angry, Levi. You hid that you were an addict, and while you were in rehab, she was rationing food. Holden found her and brought her to me...” I said, words feeling clumsy and inadequate.

A faint smile touched Levi’s lips. “The initial notion provoked a momentary flicker of annoyance, I confess. The situation, from a pragmatic perspective, is now resolved. She could have chosen to live a better life, a possibility you provided her. But she did not. Her choice was to continue in her destructive pattern.”

He turned his gaze away, his eyes settling on the floating rose petals. “The incident itself transpired well over fourteen years ago. As you are aware, there are no other witnesses, save for Julia, who was, herself, subjected to a drugged state at the time. To trace and compel the testimony of those medical professionals would be a task of practically insurmountable complexity. Legally speaking, the nature of the act itself is so unusual as to not constitute a recognized criminal offense, neither as a physical assault nor, regrettably, as an act of sexual violence.”

“She will not be seeing a prison cell, no,” he continued, a flicker of satisfaction in his voice. “However, she has been secured in a long-term care facility, a far more effective form of containment. Your impulsive decision, your naïve act of compassion, provided me with the novel solution to my long-standing dilemma.”

My foolish bleeding heart provided a different kind of justice. She wouldn’t be seeing a prison cell, but she also wouldn’t be seeing the world. Ever.

A strange, dark sense of peace settled in my gut. I didn’t have to worry about Cybil anymore.

A smile I did not deserve touched my lips. “Thank you for... for always taking care of the aftermath,” I said. My gaze fell to the rose petals, a vibrant red against the pale water. The question that had been gnawing at me, however, had to be asked.

“Is there anyone? Anyone in this entire country who can stop you? Is there someone more powerful than you?”

Levi shrugged. “No need to look so far, Raphael,” he said. “One aimed projectile to the cranium is entirely sufficient to incapacitate any man. However, I surmise your inquiry pertains more to the power hierarchy within the current governmental structure. The Minister of the Interior does not, in fact, hold me in high regard. This is largely because the Senate demonstrates a considerable preference for my initiatives, given that I have advocated for and provided substantial funding for numerous societal legislations, prominently including the dissolution of the nobility’s immunity.”

A gleam entered his eyes as he mused, almost to himself. “Now, considering this, if I were to provoke the Minister sufficiently, he might indeed be inclined to unleash the intelligence service of Ascaria upon me.” He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Hm… That is a thought for a time when I become dreadfully bored, I suppose.”

Gods, only Levi would consider provoking a national intelligence agency as a cure for boredom.

“So… Obviously don’t go and provoke him. But… Don’t you have… I don’t know, power over the cabinet, as your job?” I asked, trying to grasp the nebulous nature of his influence.

Levi’s head tilted slightly. “Oh,” he mused. “I comprehend your query now. You were inquiring about the specific parameters of my employment, my jurisdiction, precisely. Is that correct?” He paused, allowing me to confirm. “I possess an extensive understanding of law and economy, and I am proficient in the arrangement and management of large aggregations of individuals, hence my consultative occupation. This capacity does not, however, magically confer authority over every singular minister; each of them possesses their own vast and extensive staff and independent responsibilities. My primary function was to nurture the nascent democracy, hence my initiatives regarding the currency change, the nullification of archaic legal statutes within our nation, and my most recent endeavor, the presidential election.”

He leaned back, his deep blue eyes gleaming with a particularly unsettling kind of satisfaction. “You see, my dear Raphael, no one comprehends my jurisdiction, because I possess virtually none. My consultancy is entirely concealed from the public. I hold no official titles. I am merely an ordinary citizen. Which is, dear, the utterly perfect cover for my threats.” A subtle smile touched his lips. “During the recent refugee crisis, when I was present at the borders, ministers were expressing dissatisfaction and desired to return to the capital. I threatened them by asserting I would personally deploy them to the front lines of the civil war in Cyrusia. Nobody even posed the question, ‘How?’ The truth is, there is no ‘how.’ I possessed no such capability; I could not, in any capacity, execute that threat. I hold neither the inherent power nor the requisite jurisdiction over another sovereign nation’s military conflict.”

He’d bluffed his way through a national emergency. And it had worked.

“No one can fight what they can’t see or legally define. It’s truly devious,” I said, shaking my head.

Levi’s eyes met mine. “Yes, that is a primary reason. They possess no legitimate means by which to terminate my employment, Raphael. Where are my employment papers? Neither can they effectively nullify my pervasive influence across the entire nation. This is the paramount reason why I conceal my consultative occupation.”

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the porcelain. “Governmental bodies — cabinets, senates, parliaments, political parties—are, at their fundamental core, not designed as unifying entities; their inherent purpose is to divide citizens. If I were to align myself overtly with any of them, without presenting myself as a neutral party, those individuals who currently benefit from my philanthropic endeavors would inevitably distance themselves, primarily due to ideological divergences.”

“H-How? How can you think of… everything? Being anonymous so your charity applies to everyone... I don’t understand. I mean, you tell me these things all the time… But… I cannot fathom,” I whispered, completely awestruck.

Levi observed my bewildered expression. “I do not truly believe it is solely a matter of intellect, Raphael, although it undoubtedly plays a substantial part. It is predominantly about observation and being attentive to the minutiae. The remaining components are merely capital, logistical arrangement, and a certain degree of charm.”

My mouth almost fell open. ‘A bit of charm,’ my ass. It was a ruthless application of his unparalleled intellect, backed by obscene wealth and an unwavering will.

“You truly believe anyone, given the same information, could have done what you did? Abolished the nobility, restructured the economy, managed governments?” I challenged.

“Obviously not. There are far more individuals possessing vast knowledge and intellect than I. How can I articulate this concept? Hm…” He paused, a furrow appearing between his brows.

“What truly matters is not the knowledge itself, Raphael; it is how you wield it.” He began, his voice dropping slightly, drawing me into his thought process. “Let us consider a game, if you will. A game of assassination. Your designated target resides within a heavily guarded fortress. The target itself is powerful, possessing immense wealth and influence. How, then, do you breach this formidable fortress and eliminate your objective? You observe, you stalk, and you rehearse.”

“I observed the nobles, stalked their vulnerabilities, and dismantled individual noble families. Subsequently, utilizing the refined methodology from my rehearsal, I proceeded to dismantle the monarchy itself. As for how I gained entry into the fortress, Raphael?” A smirk touched his lips, cold and satisfied. “I was already inside.”

“You are, without a doubt, the most effective killer this country has ever known,” I said, looking at him, the comparison feeling apt despite the lack of literal bloodshed.

Levi shrugged, undisturbed by the gravity of my words. “Being a killer… it is not a matter of effectiveness, you understand. A single cut, a single bullet, a slope, even a simple, forceful punch can certainly kill humans. Elegance, in such matters, resides in the concealment of the act itself. Do you know what is truly surprising about the majority of murder cases?” he continued. “The most elaborate ones, those with the perfect alibis and crafted plans, they always, always get apprehended. And the ones who evade capture? It is predominantly those committed by individuals of low intellect, in a seemingly random and impulsive manner. And if they subsequently choose to bury the body? Oh. Nobody ever locates it. Nobody.”

My skin crawled.

“Gods, you can’t even stop for a second before telling me your macabre facts, don’t you? Ugh… At least with animals or stars, there were seemingly good facts; this is actual murder cases, talk about something else… how did your mind even make that connection?” I said, shivering, the chill spreading through me.

Levi blinked, his face holding an innocent expression. “I was… chatting.”

“You genuinely don’t see how that’s a slightly unsettling topic for ‘chatting,’ do you?”

“Why would it be unsettling, Raphael? You possess a truly remarkable mental resilience in the face of genuine danger and terror. You are, after all, contractually bound to an individual who is, in its most basic form, a half-genocidal terrorist. Why, then, would such a discourse prove unsettling for you?”

To him, if you’ve faced a lion, why fear a house cat?

“You understand things intellectually, I understand them… viscerally. That’s the unsettling part for me,” I said.

Levi mused aloud. “Oh,” he began, a dawning comprehension in his tone. “What is this? Pity… or perhaps something else, something considerably stronger… Oh, yes. You put yourself into the shoes of the victim, an idiom I find inherently offensive due to my neurodivergence.” A dry amusement touched his lips. “This projection, I deduce, is what caused your distress. Hm… I comprehend. I will endeavor to keep my ‘macabre’ observations more… factual and less… visceral, in future discourses.”

“Gods, what was that sudden pun about idioms about empathy?” I said, suppressing a chuckle. “But yeah, more factual and detached, please.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh? So, my Raphael does indeed enjoy emotional torment; his masochistic inclinations have finally extended to the less physical aspects. I am thoroughly intrigued.”

“So because I said ‘factual,’ you took it and made the connection that I desire your macabre tales?” I asked.

“Yes, tell me if I am incorrect.”

He wasn’t. He was a bloodhound for picking scents of… of anything, really.

“Damn it, Levi. You just had to turn my discomfort into another one of your accurate psychological observations, didn’t you?”

“No, no, my dearest,” he said, his voice held no hint of fading mirth. “I simply observed your desire to hear more of my voice.”

Yeah… There was something about his voice. That deep, calm, captivating baritone. Even when he was dissecting the most bizarre or unsettling facts, there was a hypnotic quality to it.

“Fine. You’ve correctly identified my fascination with your unique way of seeing the world. Just... no more murder hypotheticals for a while, please,” I said, a resigned smile touching my lips.

“Alright, my dearest. We have recently engaged in lengthy discussions concerning astronomy and extraterrestrial life, and occasionally even chemistry.” He paused, a contemplative look in his eyes. “Now tell me, dear, which hypothetical scenario do you wish to discuss with me?”

“Since you’re so good at ‘managing large aggregations of individuals,’ what’s a hypothetical scenario for the perfect, truly utopian society you could envision?” I asked, testing the waters.