I look back toward the balcony. Saint is still there. Still watching. A king surveying his kingdom. And for the first time since arriving at Kenyan University, I wonder if the most dangerous thing here isn’t the Order.
Maybe it’s the man standing above all of them.
Elliot gently touches my elbow. “Come on.”
My eyes leave the balcony, and when I look back, Saint is gone.
The strange tension in my chest remains when I look away. “What?”
Elliot smiles. “You came all the way here. You should at least see the house.”
I let him guide me through the crowd. The deeper we move into the house, the more surreal it becomes. Every room looks like it was designed by someone with unlimited money and absolutely no interest in subtlety. A sunken lounge occupies the west wing. Black marble. White leather. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretching toward a thirty-foot ceiling.
Students occupy the space like they belong there. Maybe they do. A girl sits cross-legged on a couch kissing one guy while the another is sliding his hand inside her shirt.
Another group is arguing about political campaigns in Europe. Someone mentions private islands. Another Switzerland.
The conversation continues as if both things are perfectly normal.
Elliot notices. “What?”
“Are these people real?”
He laughs. “No. They only become real after graduation.”
I shake my head. “I grew up thinking rich people were rich.”
“These people aren’t rich.”
“Then what are they?”
Elliot’s smile fades slightly. “Generational wealth with more power than the average rich person.”
The answer settles strangely like it explains more than it should.
We continue walking. The rear terrace opens before us, and cold air brushes my skin.
The crimson pool glows brighter outside. Up close, the water looks even stranger. Every ripple sends blood red reflections dancing across the surrounding stone. Students stand in clusters around fire pits recessed into black concrete. Their faces flash gold from the flames and crimson from the pool. The effect feels almost supernatural. Like everyone is standing between heaven and hell.
The woods beyond the property disappear into darkness. I step closer to the edge. The water stretches endlessly toward the tree line. Beautiful. Dangerous. The perfect illusion.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
I glance toward Elliot. “It looks like blood.”
He follows my gaze. “That’s what everyone says.”
“Why would they design it like that?”
“Because people around here enjoy reminding everyone they’re powerful.”
His answer feels more honest than anything else I’ve heard tonight.
Movement catches my attention. A girl disappears through a side door with two men.
All three laughing. All three already drunk.
I look away. Not because I’m judging but because something about it feels intimate. Private. The kind of thing you accidentally witness and immediately pretend you didn’t.
