Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

Wait? Powder room. Powder… White powder. Gods!

“Oh! Ah, no, thank you,” I stammered. “I believe I just had rather a lot of champagne, and... my head is quite light already.”

Levi warned me about this, but it took me a second longer to grasp it. She didn’t insist, and they melted away from the dance floor, disappearing into the glittering throng.

I needed to release some of this tension. Not with… powder, certainly not. I would just pee. A bodyguard materialized beside me and accompanied me to the men’s bathroom. Why? I didn’t know, but it wasn’t like I could refuse their escort either. I peed, washed my hands with aggressive thoroughness, and pinched the bridge of my nose with frustration. There was no way I would return to that party with smiles now. The carefree facade I’d managed to build had shattered.

After that interlude, I walked out and briefly glanced towards the powder room the women had mentioned. Yeah… through the ajar door, I could clearly hear their laughter and the sounds of them snorting.

“...and so utterly handsome,” a hushed voice, unmistakably Mrs. Pierre’s, drifted out. “Both of them, honestly. Such a striking pair. You’d think Mr. Blake would pick someone... older. More established.”

Another voice, a soft giggle, chimed in. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? He’s so young to be so powerful. And Raphael... truly, he’s like a painting come to life. And so sweet! Did you see how he tried to make us all feel better about our husbands?”

“Oh, absolutely, a delightful contrast to the usual political beasts we’re forced to endure,” Mrs. Pierre agreed, followed by a sharp sniff.

Then, a new voice, laced with a sigh, lamented, “It’s a shame Raphael is gay, though. Such a waste of good genes for the rest of us, wouldn’t you say?” A chorus of soft, knowing chuckles followed.

As if my entire existence were merely a set of good genes not being put to their heterosexual use. My stomach churned. This wasn’t even homophobia in the sense of being uneducated or ignorant; it was blatant objectification, reducing me to a breeding tool. My chest was heaving with rage. I wanted to scream, to smash the champagne glass in my hand, to make them see beyond their narrow, entitled perspectives. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

I walked away from the powder room, my mind a storm of indignation. Fuck them. I had genuinely thought we were building… at least a polite acquaintanceship. But no, apparently, I was just a set of ‘good genes’ that was supposed to breed.

As I got closer to the main dance floor, the bodyguard who had been escorting me subtly peeled away. I was left alone in a corridor, a space without any distinct features, just carpet and dimly lit art. I guessed this was one of the service corridors where waiters materialized out of thin air.

I took some deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm the thrumming in my veins. I don’t care if they call me a dumb actor, I really don’t. I know what I am. But that line. ‘Shame.’ It was a punch to the face.

“Deep breaths,” I muttered to myself. Fucking assholes! My hand trembled as I placed the champagne flute onto the carpet; there was no trash bin or a table, or anything in this empty corridor.

Then, the snake came. I really didn’t want to fight with his open animosity towards Levi right now. Mr. Reginald’s eyes were filled with disdain and hatred as he looked directly at me.

“What?” I snapped, the rage from the powder room finding an immediate outlet. “What is your problem?”

“My problem is that a… Cyrusian, like you, is at the same dinner table with us,” he sneered.

What?

Oh. This bastard wasn’t detesting Levi; he was detesting me. Racist piece of shit. Which was really… a first in Ascaria. In all my years living here, this was the very first blatant piece of racism I had ever encountered, and it hit me with a force that eclipsed even the sting of the ‘good genes’ comment.

“And your problem is why the monarchy you so diligently served is now abolished, isn’t it, Mr. Reginald? Because of men like you,” I said, taking a step closer to him.

The objectification or the racism? Which is worse?

He did not waver. His face flushed a mottled red, his lips thinning into a vicious line. He was getting truly angry. “Men like me, who rule this country, do not break our backs for the likes of you.”

“Ruling?” I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You are nothing but a cog in the machine my husband made, idiot. Wait until he hears you are a racist piece of shit. You do remember what he did to the former Minister of Health, don’t you?” I said, leaning in closer. “And let me tell you a secret: it was not even him who exposed the bribery; it was his secretary.”

“That is the problem,” he said. “A man capable of doing that, reduced to marrying a Cyrusian man. It is…” He shook his head slowly, a look of disgust on his face. “Nothing but short of a disappointment.”

“My god,” I laughed, the sound brittle and disbelieving. “What? You wanted him to marry your Ascarian girls?”

“This country needs strength, not... diversions from the capital.” He hissed as he took a step closer to me, effectively closing the distance. He was… taller. Damn it. Cyrusians were typically people with tall frames, but I was… short! Damn it.

Wait, now is not the time for insecurity.

“And? You are the person who gives that strength? The fuck is wrong with you? Are you jealous of him or something?” I shot back, refusing to be intimidated by his height or his vitriol.

“Perhaps I am simply disappointed that Levi’s vision is so... tainted by personal weakness.” He hissed, placing his hand onto my shoulder and giving it a squeeze that hurt like hell. This got… remarkably physical. Alright. I would kick his shin. Fuck this racist piece of shit.

“Fuck off,” I snarled.

“You are not even a proper Cyrusian!” he sneered, and then shoved me, hard. I stumbled back a step, the champagne flute rolling away. God damn, my height is my undoing again! Just like high school. Well, no need for trivial insecurities when this brute was physically assaulting me.

“Oh, you have done it now, you motherfucker,” I snarled as I threw a punch. It was easily blocked by his elbow.

“Pathetic,” he hissed, his eyes blazing with contempt. Yeah, it was. I admitted it. My fighting skills were clearly not up to par, but the humiliation only fueled my fury.

“Fuck off!” I yelled, my voice cracking with defiance and fear. His fist slammed into the wall right beside my head, the impact echoing with a thud that reverberated through the corridor. Oh shit. I had overplayed my hand. Fuck. He really is going to punch me.

His eyes were fixed on me. “You dared to insult me in my own country. You have made a grave error,” he said, and his free hand connected with my shoulder, anchoring me in place. The pressure was immense, and my breath hitched. Oh god, he’s going to punch my stomach.

Also, what the fuck! I have never met a patriotic Ascarian! They were supposed to be liberals!

Just before the impact, as Mr. Reginald drew his fist back, I saw Levi. I felt the shock wave of his presence before his body even made contact. A thwack, and a scraping sound as Levi’s left elbow connected with the minister’s temple, driving his head into the wall. Reginald’s body went slack, the vice on my shoulder dissolving into nothingness. He crumpled into a boneless heap that sank to the carpet with a thud.

“Are you alright?” Levi asked, his gaze fixed for a moment on Mr. Reginald’s unconscious form.

“D-Did you…” I whispered, my voice barely a tremor.

“No, he is unconscious,” Levi replied, devoid of any hint of exertion or remorse. He walked directly to me. “Did he hurt you, dear?” he inquired, his hand reaching to assess my uninjured shoulder.

He just… knocked him out.

Did he really not hurt me? I mean, Reginald didn’t land a punch, but that terror, that visceral fear of being hit… that was a kind of hurt. He seems… concerned. For me.

“N-No. Not... physically. But he was... he was going to. And he said such awful things,” I said, my voice trembling.

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“It is alright, dear,” Levi said. He glanced briefly at Reginald’s inert form on the floor. “Go to our hotel room, and I will be there in a moment.”

He knocked him out.

“L-Levi,” I stammered, thinking of the repercussions, the political storm he had just invited.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his hand squeezing my shoulder. “It is okay. You are not hurt, and I will deal with it.”

“Alright,” I said, trying to compose myself, my gaze fixed on Levi’s calm demeanor. But the glint of metal appeared down the corridor. Oh Gods. No, no, no.

A team of bodyguards arrived, their weapons pointed directly at Levi.

“Step away and raise your hands!”

Levi pivoted on his feet, his body completely turned to face the two armed men. “Gentlemen, time for a… gentle persuasion,” he said, his voice conversational. “Kindly permit my husband to take care of his injury.”

The second guard shifted his stance, his grip tightening on his weapon. “This is not open for discussion, sir. Hands in the air!” he yelled, his voice strained with urgency.

Levi did not raise his arms. “Truly?” he asked, his voice completely even. “Are your lives worth merely a minimum wage cleaning this animal’s depravity day in and day out?” He gestured with his chin towards Mr. Reginald.

Gods. He’s doing it again. Finding the pressure point.

The second guard, looking distinctly uncomfortable, slowly lowered his weapon a few centimeters. “He... he assaulted a minister,” he mumbled, as if trying to re-justify his position, but the conviction was gone.

The lead guard, noticing the wavering, barked, “Do not listen to his provocations! This is a direct order! Hands in the air, now!”

“Gentlemen,” Levi said and gestured casually around the corridor. “There are no cameras in this corridor, and my fingers did not contact with his person.” His eyes met the lead guard’s. “Now, let me tell you what we will do. You will open fire to the ceiling, and then you will carry his husk to his room, cover him in wine, and tell him he blacked out.” Levi then pulled off his diamond cufflinks and tossed them casually towards the guards. “For the hotel security, you will tell them I was robbed,” he added, his gaze sweeping over each man, leaving no room for doubt. “I think we are quite clear in our directions, are we not?”

It’s a textbook Levi maneuver. Identify the threat, isolate it, then dismantle it with surgical precision, leaving no traceable evidence. The ‘robbery’ explains the missing cufflinks, the shots into the ceiling provide a plausible reason for the guards’ presence and the noise, and the wine ensures Reginald’s humiliation and silence without requiring a complex cover-up for an assault.

He really will do anything. And he just confirmed that, right in front of these men.

The lead guard’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard. “Sir... open fire on the ceiling?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Levi replied. “So that you can take those diamond cufflinks and sell them, therefore ensuring at least paying a fraction of your debt.” He began to walk slowly towards them. “Now, now. No need to develop a heart all of a sudden. I look at both of you and see a bright future filled with many accomplishments ahead of you. So, you know what to do, don’t you?”

The terrifying, magnificent audacity.

The guards looked at each other, their eyes crinkling with strain as they grappled with Levi’s audacious proposal. Finally, the lead guard, his face a mask of reluctant resolve, nodded curtly.

“Close your ears, sir,” he said, and without further hesitation, they both raised their guns to the ceiling.

They’re actually going to do it. Just like that. No hesitation, no moral quibbles beyond a quick glance.

“I am glad we reached an agreement,” Levi replied. We both closed our ears as the shots rang out.

It was… over.

My legs were trembling, not just from the adrenaline, but from the shock of the gunfire. We didn’t go back to the dance floor; Levi steered me directly towards the elevator. I was still shaking as the doors chimed open. The moment we were inside, I tumbled from the door to the bed, my knees giving out, luckily falling onto the mattress rather than the floor.

“That racist piece of shit was going to punch me, Levi,” I said. He sat down on the bed beside me, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

“Racist?” he queried, his tone perfectly even.

“Yeah. Now we know why he detests you. It isn’t because of you, it’s because of me. Asshole,” I muttered as I lay sprawled on my stomach.

He placed his hand on my hair and gently stroked it. “Sadly, dearest, racism is not a punishable offense by law, and it is impossible to pursue charges against a minister for such a transgression,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “But, I think I dealt with him quite nicely.”

“Nicely… It is an understatement, Levi. One elbow knock and two cufflinks… It was all it took,” I said, my voice muffled by the pillow.

“He certainly deserved a worse fate.”

“I suppose so,” I mumbled. “It was just so... brazen. The hatred.”

“Is that so?” Levi replied.

“Yes… It was bad. But… How did you find me?”

“It was a rather easy deduction, dear. I knew you went to the lavatory, since you consumed a considerable quantity of champagne, but your prolonged absence was quite noticeable, and your escorting bodyguard returned without you. Subsequent to your departure, that brutish swine departed the lounge, his gaze searching the area; thus, I understood the implication. Perhaps I was a touch late to arrive. I initially presumed he would be within the lavatory as well, but then a sound alerted me to this corridor.”

He really was watching me, calculating my movements even while he was held captive by Mr. Bates and Mrs. Alexandra.

“You weren’t late, Levi. You arrived exactly when you were needed,” I said, turning my head slightly to look at him.

“Oh?” he mused, a faint amusement coloring his tone. “Am I just a body to you? I confess, I feel quite wounded by such a casual assessment.”

I chuckled in return, the sound still a bit strained. “You were quite ‘efficient’. Gods, you have to teach me that maneuver. How do you knock people unconscious with just one strike?”

“You just aim at the correct place,” he replied, his hand still stroking my hair. “Either the jaw or behind the ear, or the nape of the neck. You target the cerebellum, as it is the place for controlling muscle movements.”

“Is this what they thought as your self-defense training in your noble education?” I asked, a sarcastic smile touching my lips.

“I was taught many things, dear. How to disarm armed individuals, or how to free myself from various restraints, first-aid, of course, and other necessary survival skills such as cauterization, stitching a wound, or finding my way in the wilderness,” Levi responded.

I suppose it makes sense, given his family’s history, but to hear him list it off like it’s just another set of academic subjects...

“A-And… how did the Conqueror train you?” I asked, a sudden chill creeping through me.

“Mostly by leaving me alone in the wilderness, or releasing guards upon me,” Levi replied, his voice still level, yet I felt a shudder pass through the hand that was stroking my hair.

That’s not training. That’s… psychological torture. If your childhood is nothing but a series of survival tests against a relentless, unfeeling force, how else would you learn to be?

“Gods,” I said, rising from the bed, the image of a young Levi alone in a vast, dangerous forest making my stomach clench. “So he just left you alone in the forest and… waited for you to come back home? In that forest which covered acres of space in your familial mansion? W-Was this… something that happened to the other noble children?”

“Yes, to the forest question, and no. It was not a standard practice,” Levi replied, his voice calm. “Other children were trained by actual instructors, not a Marshal of the Realm, the Conqueror. Why do you suppose my duel tally is 37-0? And,” he continued, a pause before the next chilling detail, “it was not that brutal at the beginning; it became so because of my third kidnapping as a twelve-year-old.”

“When you said ‘noble education,’ I just thought instructors, as you said… Not being abandoned in a forest to fend for yourself,” I said, my voice filled with genuine sadness.

The hand that was stroking my hair slowly reached down to my cheek. “No need to be sad, dear. Those days have passed,” he said.

He had told me before that our traumas were processed differently; my trauma was rooted as both an emotional and physical reaction, but his was just physical, the brain disconnected from the body during the events. But it didn’t change the fact that he was alone in a forest.

“I am so sorry to hear that, Levi,” I reiterated.

“Dear,” he replied, leaning into my face, his eyes holding my gaze. “I am quite alright. You are the one who nearly got punched and held at gunpoint. Yes, I was the receiver of it, but I am sure you must be shaken.”

“I was, but... you handled it. You always do,” I said, my voice soft. “Also, I got offered cocaine, which I refused. After that, I heard them gossip about us. I got shamed for being gay, not in a homophobic sense, but I was shamed for not breeding, wasting my genes.”

A look of profound disdain crossed Levi’s features, his brow furrowing with disgust. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I told you, dear, they are animals.”

“Yeah. And… what about you?” I asked, curious about his own ordeal.

“Mr. Bates, that eager dog, was inquiring about bureaucratic hurdles, and Mrs. Alexandra was persistently begging for a meeting between the two of us. Shaw offered some sympathetic responses and subsequently drowned himself in wine. Gods, Raphael, I truly do not enjoy this calculated niceness; I have consumed a copious amount of scotch and champagne simply to maintain a pleasant demeanor,” he said, betraying a clear weariness.

“I am sorry to hear that, Levi,” I said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, hoping to convey some comfort. “But… we can sleep now.”

He offered me a wry smile, the gesture barely touching his eyes. “After assaulting a minister? No, dear. I must now engage with the hotel’s security, feigning distress because my cufflinks were purportedly stolen. After that, I need to continue mingling to avoid suspicion. You, however, may certainly sleep.”

“Yeah…” I breathed, the thought of him going back out into the party, performing another charade, utterly exhausting. “I… I will sleep.”