You're basically asking for a short story from Jorge Bucay. Let me deepl it for you:
Joroska had always been interested in puzzles. From an early age, he had loved solving crossword puzzles and brainteasers, deciphering cipher writing, exploring mazes, and unraveling every mystery that had presented itself to him.
With varying degrees of success, he had devoted much of his life and brain power to solving problems that others had devised. Of course, he was not omniscient, he had always come across puzzles that were too complicated even for him.
If he found himself faced with one, Joroska had a certain ritual: he would look at it for a long time and finally determine with an expert eye whether it was indeed an unsolvable problem.
If it was, Joroska would take a deep breath and set about solving it. But immediately a period of frustration began, and Joroska only became more engrossed in the puzzle analysis.
The questions seemed unsolvable, dead ends appeared, some symbols led astray, unknown terms and unforeseeable complications got in his way.
Some time ago, Joroska had discovered that he needed a certain sense of achievement in life. Was that the reason why the puzzles no longer gave him such pleasure?
Already after the first attempt, he was usually overcome by a deadly boredom, and he let the matter rest, mocking somewhere in the back of his mind the idiotic creator of such tasks, who would surely be overwhelmed even with their solution.
From the fact that even the easy cases quickly bored him, he concluded that puzzles were always tailored to fit their puzzle solvers and only they knew the right level of difficulty for themselves.
Ideally, he thought, everyone tailors his own puzzle to his own body. But he immediately realized that this would mean that the puzzle would lose its mystery, because of course every inventor also knew the tailor-made solution to the problem.
A little out of playfulness and a little guided by the idea of helping people who, like him, enjoyed guessing, he began to invent problems, word games, number puzzles, logical brainteasers and abstract questions of all kinds.
But his masterpiece was the invention of a labyrinth.
One quiet sunny day he began to raise walls in one of the rooms of his huge apartment, and stone by stone he built a huge labyrinth on a natural scale.
The years passed. He spread his puzzles among friends, in professional journals and in one or another daily newspaper. The labyrinth, however, he kept under lock and key: it grew and grew inside his house, constantly changing.
Joroska made it more and more complicated each time, almost imperceptibly adding more and more aberrations.
This work developed into a life task. Not a day went by without Joroska adding some brick, bricking up an exit or extending a curve to make the course more difficult.
After a good twenty years, the labyrinth took up the entire room and had already imperceptibly extended to the rest of the house.
To get from the bedroom to the bathroom, one had to go eight steps straight ahead, turn left and after six more steps turn right again, then climb down three steps, five steps straight ahead again, turn right again, jump over an obstacle, and then one stood in front of the door.
To get to the terrace, one had to swing over the left wall, crawl a few meters and climb a rope ladder to the top floor.
The whole house gradually turned into a maze on a scale of one to one.
At first, he was very proud of his work. He amused himself by wandering through the various corridors that kept leading him astray, even though he himself had designed them, because it had simply become impossible to keep all the paths in mind.
It was a labyrinth tailored to him.
Tailor-made just for him.
At some point Jorosko began to invite people to his home, to his labyrinth. But even those who had initially been burning for it began to get bored within a very short time, as he himself did with unfamiliar puzzles.
Joroska offered to give tours of the house, but often a mood of departure set in very soon. The visitors usually agreed: "You can't live like this!"
At some point, Joroska grew tired of his eternal loneliness and moved to a house without mazes, where he could easily receive guests.
However, as soon as he met someone who seemed a bit bright, he showed them his true home. Just like the pilot in the Little Prince with his giant boa open or closed, Joroska opened his labyrinth to those worthy of such a revelation.
But Joroska never found anyone who would have been willing to live there with him.