At August's end, Lenox had arrived at Bayview, an island south of Newport, Rhode Island, his spirits high as he prepared to start his college life. His destination: Belleview University, a small liberal arts college that, in its mere two decades of existence, had become the go-to institution for the wealthy and well-connected.

As the car rounded a bend, Lenox's eyes widened at the sight of massive granite columns supporting a superlative dome—hallmarks of his new home, the Emerelda mansion. Originally a Rockefeller summer retreat, it embodied more than just Gilded Age excess. There was something about Emerelda that transcended the usual displays of wealth, old or new. Its opulence was almost palpable in the air, carrying with it an aura of timelessness that made Lenox's skin prickle.

Lenox swallowed hard, a mix of awe and unease settling in his stomach. He was used to wealth, both old and new, but Emerelda was different. It wasn't just money on display here; it was power—ancient and inscrutable. His family had always prided themselves on living simply while using their wealth as a tool. But whoever built this place seemed to have tapped into something beyond mere financial resources.

"Why here?" Lenox muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. He couldn't for the life of him understand why his parents had chosen this as his home for his college years. When they told him they had purchased property near the school, he had been ecstatic. But this... this was overwhelming in a way that defied his understanding of wealth. His parents hadn't just purchased the property; they had fully transferred possession of it to Lenox. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders, accompanied by a strange sense that he was now the custodian of something far more significant than a mere mansion.

As the car slowed, Lenox's gaze was drawn to a fountain that stood sentinel before Emerelda. He leaned forward, mesmerized by the bizarre sculpture at its center: a colossal figure, its body a tapestry of eyes, frozen in a moment of shock and vulnerability. Looming over it, a warrior with a winged helm stood triumphant.

The statue captured a moment of tragic surprise, the many-eyed behemoth's head suspended mid-fall, while a geyser of water erupted from the stump of its neck. The creature's posture and the multitude of wide, startled eyes conveyed not aggression, but the helplessness of a victim caught unawares.

Surrounding the fountain, a sea of pristine snow-in-summer flowers stretched outward, their innocence corrupted by streaks of crimson petals that bled towards the water's edge. The entire tableau was carved from a massive block of obsidian, its figures rendered in contrasting, immaculate marble.

As the car circled the rotary, Lenox's perception shifted. The obsidian base was not merely a pedestal, but a great sleeping heifer, its form impossibly smooth. Lenox's eyes traced its contours, finding not a single sharp edge in its entire expanse.

This final detail, more than the grotesque imagery or the flower's corruption, made his hair stand on edge.

A chill Fall wind nipped at the back of Lenox's neck as he stepped out of the car, his driver having silently opened the door while he was absorbed in his inspection of the statuary. Arrayed at the stairs of Emerelda, a staff of nine waited. Their perfect posture and crisp uniforms provided a welcome contrast to the chaos of the fountain. With a final glance at the safety of the car's interior, Lenox straightened his shoulders and stepped forward, ready to embrace his new life—for better or worse.

At the head of his welcoming party stood a man who seemed to embody the very essence of Emerelda. Tall and ramrod straight, he wore his black suit like armor, each crease razor-sharp. His severe face was etched with lines that spoke of years of service, but it was his eyes that truly caught Lenox's attention. Those vigilant orbs seemed to take in everything at once, missing nothing.

"I am honored to greet the young master," the man said, executing a bow so precise it could have been measured with a protractor. "I am Reginald Rowley, Head Butler of the estate. I trust you'll find the accommodations sufficient."

Lenox fought the urge to squirm under Reginald's intense gaze. 'Young master'? The formality felt alien, almost absurd. He'd never been addressed like this before, and coming from Reginald, it sounded less like deference and more like a challenge.

Reginald proceeded to introduce the rest of the staff, each member as impeccably presented as the last. The gardener, Delilah, stood out with her soil-stained overalls and wide-brimmed hat. The chef, Maurice, cut a striking figure in his jet-black uniform and well-manicured goatee.

"And finally, we have Samantha," Reginald concluded, his voice taking on a considered quality. "The youngest member of our staff, who will be entering Belleview's class this year alongside you." His eyes observed Samantha, and his lips tightened—the first visible sign of emotion he had expressed. "I hope you are able to see past her... flaws."

Samantha executed a polite curtsy, her eyes directed toward the ground. Lenox's curiosity piqued at Reginald's cryptic remark, but he pushed it aside for now.

"It is my pleasure to meet all of you," Lenox said, his voice raised slightly to be heard down the line. He offered a genuine smile that reached his eyes, hoping to bridge the formality that hung thick in the air.

An uncomfortable moment passed as the staff eyed Lenox. He remembered what his father told him before he left. "… You are all dismissed." His delivery was shaky.

The rest of the staff went through one of three large double doors at the building's entrance as Reginald approached Lenox and Samantha stood to the side.

"So Young Master, do you have any questions that I could answer?"

"Ah... yes," he said, as he managed the best question he could. "Are you here, like, all of the time?"

"Of course, young master," Reginald replied, his crisp enunciation making each word clear as crystal. "But fear not—we pride ourselves on being unobtrusive."

Lenox nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, but inwardly, he felt a mix of awe and discomfort. How could someone so commanding promise to be unobtrusive? In that moment, Lenox realized that Reginald's presence would be felt even in his absence, a constant, unseen force shaping life at Emerelda.

"I should mention. That while I am in your service, I have a duty to preserve the estate. We appreciate advance notice for any events you might host. There is to be no smoking in the estate with the exception of the porch, which is climate controlled. College gatherings will require days of preparation. Would you care for a tour of the Esmerelda, or would you prefer to rest after your journey?"

Lenox waved a hand dismissively, a feeble attempt to match the expectations of Reginald's piercing gaze. "Have a maid... or butler – I guess – bring a..." Lenox stretched out the a as he searched his memories for a suitable beverage for his station. "...Darleejing tea to my room, I am going to bed.

"Of course", Reginald replied, taking Lenox's shaky order as seriously as the vanguard would an order from their commander. "Samantha, would you be so kind as to show Lenox to his room."

"Yes sir", she answered.

As Lenox followed Samantha through the grand hall, he fought to maintain his composure. His gaze skimmed over priceless artifacts, paintings, and tapestries, each seeming to pulse with an energy that went beyond their monetary value. The painstakingly illustrated dome above caught his eye, and he had to resist the urge to stop and stare at the scenes depicted—scenes that seemed to shift and change if he looked at them too long.

Lenox tried to convince himself that this was just another display of wealth, albeit a particularly impressive one. But a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'This is something else entirely.' He pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the excitement of college life ahead. This was his chance to prove himself, to step out of his family's shadow and make his own mark. If only he could shake this feeling of being thrust into a world that, despite his own privileged background, felt alien and charged with hidden significance—a world where the distinction between old and new money seemed trivial in the face of whatever power Emerelda truly represented.

By the time he got to his room, it had been decorated with all of the objects he brought from home. Lenox considered that he made a miscalculation.

A lava lamp warred with a portrait of an Elizabethan woman. A digital alarm clock on an ornate nightstand cast red light onto a massive silver grandfather clock while its internals ticked the seconds away. An old photograph of a young black woman standing behind a clutch of children was placed next to a pile of video games. His bed itself was carved with faces of animals that stared at him hungrily as he lay down. He just wanted to relax with something familiar. He peered around the room and looked for a remote.

Finding none, Lenox's eyes scanned the ornate room, growing increasingly irritated. At once, he sight of a gold-rimmed teacup on a coaster next to his bed. A dark liquid swirled as if just stirred.

How in the world is that possible? Lenox thought. He sipped from the cup and his tongue rebelled at the bitter liquid. "Not drinking the rest of that" he muttered. He did a second inspection of the room and realized there was not a TV in sight. His frustration mounting, he ran a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. Finally, unable to contain his annoyance any longer, he shouted, half joking- "Butler, where is the television?"

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From beside his bed, he heard the reply.

"Television in bed is bad for your sleep. There is a private theater in the fourth wing."

Lenox's thoughts stopped as he reverted to animal impulse. He jerked away from the voice so violently that he nearly tumbled off the far side of the bed, his hands gripping the silk sheets in a white-knuckled grasp. His wide eyes darted to the source of the voice, pulse pounding in his ears.

"How the hell did you get there?" he gasped, struggling to regain his composure. "That's fucking creepy."

"A relic of an old estate," Reginald said, his face impassive, though Lenox could swear he saw a quirk of a smile at the edges of his mouth. "I'm surprised one such as yourself is unfamiliar with servant's passages."

Lenox felt his cheeks burn. He was embarrassed at himself, he found no fault with his head butler, who delivered his words so earnestly.

"Servant's passages?" Lenox asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "Like, hidden passageways?"

"Not quite," Reginald replied, the ghost of amusement dancing in his eyes. "These are merely backways. Hidden passageways are much more... subtle."

Lenox blinked, processing this information. Was Reginald hinting at something more, or simply toying with him? He couldn't decide if he was more intrigued or unnerved by the butler's cryptic response.

"Here is a map of the estate," Reginald said, producing a folded paper from seemingly nowhere and handing it to Lenox. "I trust you can find your way to the theater by yourself?"

Lenox looked down at the map, his mind reeling. When he raised his head to ask about the supposed hidden passageways, he found himself alone in the room. Reginald had vanished without a sound, as if he'd never been there at all.

A chill ran down Lenox's spine. How had Reginald disappeared so quickly? And what was that about hidden passageways? He stared at the spot where the butler had stood moments ago, then back at the map in his hands. Something told him that this paper didn't show everything Emerelda had to offer.

As he unfolded the map, Lenox couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just been issued a challenge. One thing was certain to him: life at Emerelda was going to be far from ordinary.

The excitement of potentially unexplored passaged to be discovered across the property warred with his frustration at the Head Butler. He rebelled at the thought of playing into Reginald's hands and decided to go for a walk around the Emerelda before looking at the theater. He was used to a more minimalistic style, and the grandiose formality of everything in the mansion was starting to make him sick. As he left his room, he saw the visage of the maid who led him here at a slight remove from the door.

As Lenox stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the plush carpet muffling his footsteps, he found himself face-to-face with a young maid. His eyes, still adjusting to the lower light, were drawn to the contrasts she presented. Her curly, dirty blonde hair was tied back in a haphazard manner that somehow seemed intentional. Her uniform, crisp from a distance, revealed subtle wrinkles upon closer inspection. Most strikingly, she held an iPhone in her hands, thumbs scrolling across the screen.

The maid's eyes flicked up, catching Lenox's gaze. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked, her tone sharp enough to make him flinch. "Don't you have some other important rich brat thing to do?"

Lenox felt his face flush, the words hitting him like a slap. He'd been called many things before, but 'rich brat' was a new one. Part of him wanted to remind her of her place, to act the 'young master' Reginald had called him. But another part, the part that had balked at the grandeur of Emerelda, found her directness refreshing.

He straightened his designer jacket, a habit born of years in prep school. "Well, your boss just popped out of the wall in my room, and I have no real desire to have him watch me all the time." Lenox paused, curiosity getting the better of him. "Are you typically so cavalier with your employers? By the way, I'm Lenox."

The maid rolled her eyes, but a hint of amusement played at the corners of her mouth. "No shit you're Lenox. I'm Sam." She gestured vaguely at the walls around them. "The servant's passages are weird. I don't even know a quarter of them, and I've been here for two years. This is one of the areas without any nearby. So as long as I'm here, I don't get pestered by the rest of the staff."

Sam's eyes darted to her phone, then back to Lenox. "And I wasn't so casual with my last employer, but she was a shrew," she continued, a shadow passing over her face. "Nothing happens in Bayside when college is out of session, so I hoped you would be cool."

Lenox's curiosity piqued. There was a story there, he was sure of it. The brief darkness in her eyes hinted at experiences beyond her years, making him wonder just how long she'd been working in places like this.

Before he could inquire further, Sam's demeanor shifted. She pointed her thumb and pinky, gesturing between them. "Oh, and this? Is not going to happen."

Lenox blinked, confusion evident on his face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam let out a short, sardonic laugh. "You think I don't know that when a rich kid sees a young maid, he thinks he'll be getting his stones off every day? Not happening. We're in competition." She gave Lenox a playful wink that contrasted sharply with her words.

The realization dawned on Lenox late, and his face turned a deeper shade of pink. "Oh," he mumbled, then cleared his throat. "Well, I have a girlfriend, so that won't be an issue."

"Oh really?" Sam's eyebrows shot up. "And where is she now? Is she hot?"

Lenox shifted uneasily, memories of his last conversation with Mia flooding back. "Barcelona," he said, his voice quieter than before. He shook off the momentary melancholy and met Sam's gaze. "Hey, do you want to do your job and show me around, or..." His eyes flicked to Sam's screen, a smirk playing on his lips, "are you going to keep looking at Instagram models outside my door?"

Sam dramatically rolled her eyes, but there was a newfound respect in her gaze. "Fine, follow me... if you dare." She laughed as she tucked her phone away and led Lenox towards the gardens, the smell of fresh-cut grass and blooming flowers wafting through the open door ahead.

Sam spread her arms theatrically, her voice taking on a tour guide's exaggerated tone. "Welcome to your backyard, young master. Stay close, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. We are not responsible for any missing rich boys." Her playful smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "But really, don't lose me out here. I don't need Reginald breathing down my neck because we had to organize a search party on your first day."

Lenox's jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. A kaleidoscope of colors assaulted his senses - intricate topiaries stood proudly amidst spectacular floral displays. Grand elephants of green played along seals, a circus of delicate sculptures seemed to frolic among the vibrant blooms. Stone statues brought ancient myths to life, their silent tales witnessed by perhaps a hundred souls in as many years. At the heart of it all stood a massive maze, its geometric precision hinting at secrets hidden within its verdant walls.

"This is wrong," Lenox whispered, awe and discomfort warring in his voice. "It's too magnificent to be hidden away like this."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that why we're here? To see it?"

Lenox shook his head, struggling to articulate his feelings. "No, I mean... this isn't a place for people to live. It's too beautiful, too grand for just one person. It should be a museum or something, not my college residence."

"Not possible," Sam replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "This place is held in a special trust, specifically to prevent it from becoming a museum. The Rockefeller who built it was a bit of a wackjob. Saw others donating their estates to the public and decided that wouldn't fly here. Something about the place needing a master." She shrugged. "Reginald could tell you more. He's been here longer than anyone - before I was born, I'd bet."

Changing the subject, Sam gestured towards the hedge maze. "Hey, check it out. I know all the best spots for stealing kisses if you decide to throw any parties." She grinned mischievously. "You are going to throw parties, right? Of course you are, you're rich. We should stake out the prime locations before the social season starts. I can show you around, but remember - I won't be kissing you."

Lenox exhaled loudly. "Yeah, I get it. You like girls."

"I like women," Sam corrected, her tone sharp.

"Same difference," Lenox muttered. "Let me meet some people first before I lose my mind in this green labyrinth. By the way, where do you keep the axes? Just in case."

Sam's laughter echoed through the garden. "So you do have a sense of humor. The axes are in the gardener's shed, but it's a bit out of the way."

"Speaking of gardeners," Lenox said, "where were they all when I arrived?"

Sam looked at him quizzically. "All the gardeners? There's just one - Delilah. She keeps to herself, mostly. Good luck if you want to talk to her. That greeting yesterday was the first time I've seen her in months. I sometimes wonder if she lives in the garden."

Lenox's brow furrowed in disbelief. "That's impossible. One person can't maintain a garden this size. How many acres does this even cover?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not your personal Emerelda encyclopedia. If you want that kind of information-"

"Talk to Reginald. Got it," Lenox finished, suppressing a shudder at the thought of another encounter with the intimidating butler.

As they wandered through the maze, Sam offered running commentary on the statues they passed. "I love this one," she said, gesturing to a particularly lifelike sculpture of a woman. "The detail is incredible. I wonder who the model was."

Later, they came upon a disturbing statue of a man devouring children. Sam's tone turned sardonic. "Here's a guy eating his children. I think late-term abortions were popular with the Rockefellers or something." She shrugged, her expression a mix of disgust and dark humor. "This place is full of weird stuff like this. Makes you wonder what was going on in their heads."

Lenox grimaced at the gruesome sculpture. "That's... unsettling. Why would anyone want this in their garden?"

"Rich people," Sam replied with a dismissive wave. "They've got different tastes, I guess. Or maybe it's some kind of metaphor for capitalism eating the young. Who knows?"

As they continued through the maze, Sam's commentary shifted to the garden's history and the eccentric choices of its previous owners. "See that topiary over there? Rumor has it, it was shaped after a Rockefeller's favorite racehorse. And that fountain? Supposedly, the water runs red on the anniversary of the estate's completion. Never seen it myself, though."

As their exploration drew to a close, the sky began to blush with the hues of sunset. Sam's eyes lit up with excitement. "Come with me," she said, grabbing Lenox's hand. "Close your eyes."

Bewildered but intrigued, Lenox complied. After several minutes of careful guidance, Sam's voice rang out again. "Okay, open them."

Lenox's eyes fluttered open to a breathtaking vista. Before him stretched the vast expanse of the sea, a glittering canvas painted in the fiery colors of the setting sun. The view stole his breath away, and he felt a knot of tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying begin to unravel.

"Emerelda is surrounded by cliffs on three sides," Sam explained, her voice soft with awe. "You can see both sunrise and sunset over the ocean from here." As she spoke, her gaze drifted towards the horizon, her words trailing off into contemplative silence.

They sat in companionable quiet, watching as the sun made its slow descent. As the last sliver of light disappeared beneath the waves, Lenox felt a complex mix of emotions wash over him. The beauty of Emerelda was undeniable, yet so was the profound sense of isolation it imposed. He glanced at Sam, her profile etched in silhouette against the deepening twilight, and wondered about the secrets she and this place held. The rhythmic crash of waves against the cliffs below seemed to echo his own turbulent thoughts.

"We should head back," Sam said softly, breaking the spell. "It gets dark fast out here, and trust me, you don't want to be stumbling around these cliffs at night."

As they turned to leave, Lenox cast one last look at the vast expanse of sea and sky. He couldn't shake the feeling that this sunset marked more than just the end of his first day at Emerelda—it was the beginning of something profound, something he couldn't yet fully comprehend.