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In his late 30s, Levi Ackerman knew with absolute certainty that this was his calling: the quiet, meticulous selection of tea. He stood before the shelves, eyes narrowing as he browsed the numerous options. He was already fantasizing about the rhythm of his day—the precise preparation of lunch, the baking of a pastry to complement the afternoon brew, and the warmth of cooking dinner just before his wife returned. They would end the night curled up together, the low hum of a late-night show on the TV providing the backdrop to their shared silence.
Levi selected five different flavors—three for his own refined palate and two specifically for his wife. She was constantly working herself to the bone; she needed someone to look after the details she ignored, and he didn’t mind it at all. In fact, that was his true calling.
Walking back with the groceries in one hand and his wife’s favorite lollipop in the other, he found himself reminiscing about their first meeting.
Hange Zoe, at 31, was easily the most industrious person anyone knew. She was hardworking to a fault, pushing herself until her health, wealth, and basic hygiene fell by the wayside.
Levi had found her in the most unconventional way possible. Usually, when people were found unconscious on the pavement, it was in the red-light district or near the clubs—not on his quiet route home. He had bent down to inspect the woman in the crumpled business suit, clicking his tongue in a mixture of annoyance and concern. He checked her pulse; she was alive. Was she drunk? He leaned in and sniffed. She reeked, but not of alcohol—it was the smell of sheer exhaustion and neglected self-care.
After a few moments of internal debate, he sighed. He hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She was surprisingly light, which made the trek to his quarters easier. As he hauled her up the stairs, he wondered why he had bothered with a good deed. His mother raised him a gentleman, after all.
He placed her carefully on his couch and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face to get a better look. He removed her glasses, only to sigh at the visible grime on the lenses. Yes, he was a gentleman—but he was also what most would call a "clean freak."
"I'm really sorry, miss," he muttered under his breath. He undressed her down to her undervest and carried her to the bathroom. He set her in the tub, turned on the showerhead, and let the water spray.
Hange woke with a violent start, gasping for air. "What's going on?! Why is it raining?! It's so cold!"
Levi was rarely startled, but he had tried to wake this woman several times to no avail. He had assumed she’d stay under while he cleaned her up, but here she was, wide awake and frantic.
"Ahhhh!" she screamed, her eyes finally landing on Levi. "Who are you?!"
***
After that incident, Hange began to frequent his place after work. Levi often wondered if she would have been murdered already if it hadn't been him who found her that night. But because he was a gentleman, she was safe. And just like that, she had crept into his life.
“Why do you keep coming here?” he asked one day as he was drying their clothes. Yes, their clothes. He had been over to Hange’s place a few times and was so horrified by the lack of clean laundry that he simply offered to do it himself. Don't ask him why; he just felt like it was the right thing to do. By now, he had grown used to Hange’s presence in his household, and a few of her things had already begun to claim permanent spots in his space.
“Because you make me feel safe and well taken care of,” she beamed at him, stuffing a spoonful of rice into her mouth. “Plus, you cook great food, Levi.”
At her loving tone—the way she uttered his name—he felt his legs almost turn to jelly and his heart grow warm. What was wrong with him? He was a feared mafia boss, not some teenage boy in love. But with Hange’s happy hum as background noise while he finished his chores, he felt that everything was exactly as it should be.
***
At some point, Hange had stopped coming over. It was around the time Levi had finally dissolved his small-time gang; after all, he never planned to stay in that life for long. The group had been started by his uncle, and Levi had inherited the leadership three years ago after his uncle's death. He had spent that time tying up loose ends, and he decided it was finally time to part ways with the underworld. The life of the mafia was not for him. He never wanted it.
His best friend, Furlan, had left a long time ago. Levi had allowed it so Furlan could begin a new life with his wife, Isabel. Levi still met them occasionally at the tea shop they ran—the very dream Levi had always wanted for himself. But never mind that. Now that he was home full-time, he found he had nothing to do, and with no Hange there to entertain him, he felt a crushing loneliness.
After a few days, his mind started spiraling. Did Hange hate him? Did he do something wrong? She usually spammed his phone with messages, but she hadn't sent a single one in a while. Levi took matters into his own hands and went to her apartment to confront her. He needed answers.
He rang the bell, but there was no answer. A neighbor exiting her own house looked at Levi and informed him that Hange wasn't home—and hadn't been for a while. This immediately made Levi’s worry spike, leading him to camp out in his car at her door for days.
Two days later, Hange finally rolled in with her suitcase. Levi immediately dashed out of his car and pulled the stunned Hange into a warm embrace.
“Levi,” she whispered, surprised.
“I think I love you,” Levi blurted out. “The past few days without you have been torture. Marry me.”
He suddenly realized Hange was silent. Panic set in as he thought he was probably being too forward. But when he pulled away from the hug, he saw tears beading in her eyes.
“Levi,” she muttered. “I love you too.”
Then she kissed him, and for the first time in his life, Levi felt like he had done something truly worth it.
***
Levi set the dinner table and sat down, still wearing his apron, as he watched the Roomba methodically clean the floor. He checked the clock and hummed to himself. His wife should be home any minute now. He wondered why it was that every time she left in the morning, he immediately began to miss her. When he heard the jingle of keys at the door, he stood up right away and walked over to greet her.
As soon as Hange entered and yelled, “I’m home!” she was greeted by her husband wearing the hilarious apron she had gifted him as a joke. It read: “Wok This Way: The Soul-Mate of Sauté,” and Hange immediately broke into giggles.
Levi approached her, and Hange launched herself into a bear hug. He caught her effortlessly, pleased to feel that she had finally grown into her bones. She was no longer as bony as she used to be, and he knew that was his doing. He took great pleasure in making sure his wife was well cared for in every aspect of her life.
“I’m home, hubby,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
Levi smiled. “Welcome home, Four Eyes.”