Alessia
The room smells of old paper and furniture polish. It’s a library, or a convincing imitation of one, filled with leather bound books that have never been opened and maps of places that no longer exist. This is the stage for the Aegis Society’s first open challenge. An escape room.
Julian Vance stands before a grand fireplace, a smug conductor about to begin his symphony of condescension. He’s dressed down today, in a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than my first semester’s meal plan.
“The rules are simple,” he begins, his voice echoing slightly in the high ceilinged room. “Solve the puzzles. Open the final door. The first team to do so proves they have the intellect and composure worthy of consideration.”
His eyes scan the crowd of hopefuls, a mix of eager freshmen and ambitious sophomores. They hang on his every word. Then his gaze lands on me, and a small, cruel smile plays on his lips.
“Of course, this requires a certain level of thinking. It’s not for everyone.” He pauses, letting the insult hang in the air, aimed directly at me. “We can’t all be winners.”
I offer nothing in return. No fear, no anger. I just watch him, my face a carefully constructed mask of mild interest. Across the room, leaning against a towering bookshelf, is Dante Moretti. He isn’t part of Julian’s sycophantic circle. He stands alone, a silent observer in a perfectly tailored suit, watching the proceedings with an air of detached amusement. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. There is no warmth in his gaze, only that same unnerving assessment from the party. He sees me. The question is, what does he think he sees?
The large clock on the mantel chimes, and the game begins. The room erupts into a flurry of motion. Students tear books from shelves, spin a large globe in the corner, and shout theories at each other. It’s chaos.
I remain still. This isn’t a puzzle. It’s an evaluation. My father taught me to read a room before acting. Who is the natural leader? Who panics under pressure? Who is the weak link? In a matter of seconds, I have everyone categorized.
“Having trouble keeping up, scholarship?” Julian’s voice slithers into my ear. He has materialized beside me, his presence an unwelcome weight.
I turn to him, feigning a slightly overwhelmed look. “It’s very clever. I’m just trying to take it all in.”
“Take your time,” he sneers. “The rest of us will be finished by the time you figure out the first clue.”
He walks away, satisfied he has put me in my place. The fool. He thinks the game is about speed. It’s about precision. I finally move, my path deliberate. I drift through the chaos, an unseen current. My eyes catch everything. The faint scratches on the floor by a bookshelf, indicating a hidden mechanism. The way the books are organized not by author, but by publication date, a clear numerical code. The subtle discoloration on a single key of the dusty harpsichord in the corner.
It’s all so simple. Obvious, even. It’s a puzzle built for children playing at being spies. I could solve it all in ten minutes, but that would destroy the one thing I came here to build. My cover.
So I watch. I listen. I let them struggle.
From his vantage point, Dante is not looking at the puzzles. His gaze is fixed on me. He watches my slow, methodical path around the room. He sees me pause by the globe. He sees me glance at the fireplace. He doesn’t see me solve anything, but I can feel the intensity of his focus. He’s not watching a player. He’s studying a predator that is pretending to be prey.
“Has anyone checked the portrait?” Julian barks at a flustered team. “My ancestor was a brilliant strategist. Maybe he left you something.”
His voice grates on me. He’s a peacock, all flash and noise, with no substance.
The final puzzle has them all stumped. A large, ornate chest sits in the center of the room, secured by a lock with five rotating dials. They need a five letter word. They’ve tried everything. ‘Aegis’. ‘Power’. ‘Julian’. That last one made me almost smile.
I already know the answer. I saw it twenty minutes ago. It’s not in a book or on a map. It’s in the room itself. In the architecture of the game. A weakness.
There’s a tall, ornate mirror hanging on the far wall. From most angles, it just reflects the chaos of the room. But from one specific spot, a small, quiet corner near the window, it provides a perfect, unobstructed view of Julian, who stands near the main door. And every few minutes, when he thinks no one is looking, he pulls out his phone. The passcode he taps in is a pattern. Five points. Five letters. M O N E Y. How predictable.
I need to pass the victory to someone else. My eyes land on a quiet boy near the fireplace. He’s been methodical, but he’s too timid to shout over the others. He’s the one. I begin to drift towards him, planning my move.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Julian’s voice is a low hiss. He’s in my path again. “You’re not solving this. I won’t let some charity case show everyone up. You’ll just stand here and watch.”
His attempt to control me is pathetic. It changes nothing. I simply alter my plan. I turn my back to him and face the wall of books, pretending to search for a clue. I see the boy I chose in the reflection of a framed picture.
I speak to the bookshelf, my voice just loud enough to carry. “It’s always about what they value most, isn’t it? The thing they can’t live without.”
I don’t wait for a reaction. I move away, melting back towards the edges of the room. I see the boy’s head snap up. I see his eyes flick towards Julian, who is once again impatiently checking his phone. A spark of understanding lights up his face. He watches Julian’s thumb move.
Then, the boy walks to the chest. He doesn’t shout. He calmly turns the dials. M. O. N. E. Y.
A loud click echoes through the now silent room. The chest opens.
For a moment, there is stunned silence. Then, an eruption of cheers. The boy is swarmed, his back slapped, his name chanted. He looks shocked, a deer in the headlights of his own sudden victory.
Julian’s face is a mask of fury. His plan to humiliate me has backfired spectacularly. I did nothing, and he is still impotent. His glare finds me in the crowd, and it is filled with pure hatred.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I turn and head for the exit, my work here done. The noise and celebration fade behind me as I step into the quiet hallway. I just need to get back to my room, back to the safety of my sketchbook and charcoals.
“An impressive performance.”
The voice stops me cold. Dante Moretti steps out of the shadows of the hall, blocking my path. He wasn’t in the room at the end. He must have left just before the puzzle was solved.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, my voice steady. “A boy named Michael solved it.”
“That’s not the performance I was talking about,” Dante says, his dark eyes searching my face. He takes a step closer, and the hallway suddenly feels very small. “You played the part of the meek, overwhelmed scholarship student perfectly. You let Julian think he had you cornered. You even let him believe he was winning.”
My heart beats a steady, dangerous rhythm against my ribs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” A ghost of a smile touches his lips, but it holds no humor. It’s the smile of a hunter who has cornered something interesting. “I was watching you, Lia. You weren’t trying to solve the puzzle. You were mapping the room. You were assessing the players. And when you had the answer, you didn’t take the credit. You gave it away. Like a king moving a pawn.”
He is too close. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. I am a wolf, and for the first time in years, I feel like I am in the presence of another one.
“The question is why,” he continues, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. “Why go to all that trouble to hide how brilliant you are?” He leans in, his next words brushing against my ear.
“What are you so afraid they’ll see?”
He holds my gaze for one more impossibly long moment, then steps back, clearing my path. He gives a small nod, a gesture of dismissal, and walks away down the hall, leaving me alone with the echo of his words.
I stand frozen, my carefully constructed walls trembling. I thought Julian was the danger. A loud, stupid dog that barks a lot. But I was wrong. The real danger is Dante Moretti. Because he doesn’t just see the girl on a scholarship. He sees the game. And I think he wants to play.
