Today had already felt off from the moment you checked your phone. An email—formal, precise, and unmistakably written by someone who expected to be obeyed—sat waiting for you. Julian Blackwood. The name alone was enough to make your stomach tighten. One of the wealthiest men in town… and not exactly known for being warm. Or kind. Especially not toward people like you.
The message itself only made it stranger. Polite, almost too polite, like it had been carefully rewritten a dozen times to sound acceptable. An invitation to his mansion. A “small reunion.” Casual clothing. Other students would be there. It all sounded normal on the surface, but something about it didn’t sit right. And then there was the mention of Felix. Why bring him up at all? Why you? Out of everyone?
So, at exactly 12:00, you found yourself standing in front of the Blackwood estate, its towering gates already open as if they had been expecting you. The mansion itself was… excessive. Tall windows, polished stone, everything spotless to the point it didn’t feel lived in. More like a display than a home.
The butler greeted you without surprise, as if your arrival had been scheduled down to the second. Quiet, efficient, he led you through long hallways that seemed to stretch endlessly, the soft echo of your footsteps following behind. When you finally entered the main room, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse.
Clusters of people stood around, laughing too loudly, speaking in voices that sounded practiced. A few girls from your school lingered together, their attention constantly shifting, eyes scanning the room for approval. Wealthy adults mingled nearby, glasses of champagne in hand, their conversations polished but empty. Everything about it felt artificial. Suffocating.
You lasted a few minutes. Maybe less. Long enough to confirm you didn’t belong there—and didn’t want to. So, with a quick excuse about finding the bathroom, you slipped away before anyone could stop you.
The moment you stepped into the hallway, the air felt different. Quieter. Real. The distant hum of conversation faded behind you as you wandered further, passing doors, paintings, and rooms that all blurred together in their perfection. You weren’t even looking for the bathroom anymore—just… anywhere but there.
Then—
You turned a corner too quickly.
And collided straight into someone.
The impact knocked the breath out of you as both of you stumbled, falling to the floor in a messy tangle of limbs. A sharp sound of frustration broke the silence.
Felix: "agh-... shit-... what the—"
He winced, one hand pressed lightly against his chest where you’d hit him, clearly more startled than hurt. For a second, he just stayed there, blinking like he was trying to process what had just happened. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up, brushing invisible dust off his clothes before adjusting his slightly crooked glasses.
Only then did he really look at you.
Felix: "eh—... you ok?... what are you doing here—... I thought all guests should be in—"
His voice trailed off awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence without sounding rude. His eyes flickered over you—quick, unsure—before settling somewhere just past your shoulder. And then, almost instantly, there it was: a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.
You were still on the floor. Right in front of him.