"Dude, you were totally badass back there! That guy was so scared he wet his pants—what a loser!"
It had been a few minutes since they left the Phoenix Society's club, but Shawty was still buzzing about what happened, acting like he was the one who'd put the young guy in his place, not Roy.
"Alright, Shawty, we're on Ouroboros Society turf now—zip it!"
Shawty finally shut up.
Roy thought Shawty, despite some typical quirks, was generally pretty easygoing for a guy.
Compared to the Phoenix Society's flashy setup, the Ouroboros Society's club was way more low-key. They didn't have a recruitment booth out front, but at least the club's door was open, and there were people inside.
"Who are you guys?"
"I'm Roy Black, and this is Shawty Mix. We're just here to check out the Ouroboros Society."
Roy introduced himself first this time, not mentioning anything about joining, but the Ouroboros manager on duty obviously knew why freshmen were sniffing around the club.
"You guys want to join the Ouroboros Society, right? Nice to meet you, I'm Harry Dyson, the acting manager of this club!"
The manager was a young guy, sporting gold-rimmed glasses, giving off a bit of a refined bad-boy vibe.
At least his attitude was decent—not nearly as arrogant as the Phoenix Society folks.
Harry sized Roy up, his friendly demeanor mostly because Roy had the looks and charisma that stood out.
Shawty, on the other hand, came off as a bit of a goofy dimwit at first glance.
The more Harry looked at Roy, the more familiar he seemed.
"Hold up! Mr. Black, I swear I've seen you somewhere!"
Before Roy could respond, Shawty jumped in.
"You probably saw my bro on TV—he's the heavyweight boxing champ from the Sydney Olympics!"
Harry's jaw dropped.
"Whoa! An Olympic champion? Brandy, get down here! Your idol's here!"
Harry shouted upstairs, and a shirtless young guy came down, holding a dumbbell, drenched in sweat.
This guy was ripped, his muscles even more defined than Roy's, clearly a college dude obsessed with lifting.
"Who's my idol? What's going on?"
"That boxer you're always talking about—Roy Black!"
Brandy's eyes lit up when he saw Roy's face, though he quickly brushed off Harry's comment.
"Always talking about? Nah, I'm just curious how he trains to get that kind of power. His muscles aren't even as big as mine, but his punches are insane!"
Brandy muttered but eagerly grabbed a notebook and pen, asking Roy for an autograph.
Roy signed for both Brandy and Harry.
Once he had the autograph, Harry excitedly launched into the history of the Ouroboros Society.
"The Ouroboros Brotherhood is a young fraternity, founded just twenty years ago right here at UCLA. It's grown fast, with branches all over California, even some influence in Oregon and Arizona! Mr. Black, joining Ouroboros will be the best decision of your life!"
Roy couldn't help but think Harry would make a killer salesman someday—he was that good with words.
But Roy wasn't about to commit so fast. Like he'd said before, it wasn't the fraternities choosing him; he was choosing them.
"Do you need a recommendation letter to join Ouroboros?"
"Recommendation letter? What's that? Oh, you mean the nonsense the Phoenix Society idiots ask for?"
Harry's face twisted with disdain, not even trying to hide it.
"Mr. Black, you don't know the half of it. I hate to admit it, but the Phoenix Society is the oldest fraternity on the West Coast—older than most, except maybe some East Coast relics. Because of their history, those snobs are super picky about who can apply. You need a recommendation letter just to get in the door.
Those old-money types love playing these games, acting like they're Victorian aristocrats or something!"
Brandy burst out laughing.
"Exactly! Every time I think of those Phoenix Society jerks looking down their noses at everyone, I wonder if their necks hurt!"
Brandy's sense of humor was a bit odd, but he wasn't wrong. The Phoenix Society manager they'd just dealt with practically used his nostrils as eyes.
Shawty couldn't resist chiming in.
"That Phoenix Society loser looked down on us, so Roy grabbed him up—guess what? The guy was so scared he pissed himself!"
Harry and Brandy's eyes lit up, and Harry even let out a whistle.
"Whoa! Sounds like Ouroboros won't be short on Phoenix Society jokes this month!"
With Ouroboros spreading the word, that story would probably be all over campus in three days.
Roy, hearing Harry mention "old money," thought of something else.
"You mentioned old money. Is Ouroboros mostly new money then?"
Harry nodded.
"Yup. Ouroboros grew so fast because it's backed by Silicon Valley's internet tycoons—pure new money. They can't stand the old-money crowd's attitude. That's why we don't care about recommendation letters; we look at what you can do!"
The clash between old money and new money had been heating up over the past decade, spilling over from society into universities.
Old money, in the traditional sense, referred to wealthy families who made their fortunes in industries like energy, manufacturing, or transportation—people like Charles Weyland, whom Roy knew.
These old-money types were usually traditional, all about pomp and aristocratic vibes.
New money, on the other hand, came from the internet tech boom over the past couple of decades—people who amassed wealth in just a few years, something that took old-money families generations to achieve. Naturally, this rubbed some old-money folks the wrong way.
But while they were annoyed, most old-money types didn't understand the internet industry and were too scared to invest their hard-earned cash in it. So, they resorted to picking fights with new money to feel better about themselves.
New-money folks, being the ambitious go-getters they were, weren't about to put up with these stuck-up "fake aristocrats," so the rivalry kept escalating.
Roy, in a way, was part of the new-money crowd. Sure, he didn't make his money in tech, but sports stars like him were often labeled as "nouveau riche" by old money.
"I get what you're saying. So Ouroboros is younger, more vibrant?"
"Exactly! Ouroboros doesn't have all those rigid hierarchies or rules. You climb the ranks based on your skills—no class or race discrimination here!"
When Harry mentioned race discrimination, he glanced at Shawty, clearly directing the comment at him.
Shawty's eyes sparkled, and he started nudging Roy.
"Roy, I think Ouroboros sounds pretty dope. Why not join?"
Roy wasn't so easily swayed.
"I want to see what kind of activities Ouroboros has first."
"Oh, we've got tons!"
Harry led Roy to the club's display room, filled with photos of wild parties.
"Ouroboros throws parties every Saturday night—sometimes here, sometimes at spots in Beverly Hills, all provided by our members. Plus, we've got two sororities we hang out with, full of gorgeous blonde, blue-eyed girls. You can do whatever you want with them!"
Sororities were the female counterpart to fraternities, but they didn't have the same clout. Many existed to provide "companions" for top-tier fraternity members.
The main requirement for joining these sororities? Be beautiful and pass regular health checks to avoid any "incidents."
Of course, joining a sorority had its perks—tuition was basically covered, and if you snagged a high-potential guy, you could rocket straight into high society.
That's why so many college girls were eager to join.
Being good-looking was a resource in itself, and if you paired that with high emotional intelligence, success was even easier.
Hearing Harry's pitch, Shawty was practically drooling, staring at Roy with puppy eyes.
The guy knew his shot at joining Ouroboros depended on Roy—Harry was clearly interested in him, not Shawty.
"Roy, this place is awesome! We—"
Roy cut him off with a wave.
"We'll think it over and let you know if we're interested."
"Let's swap contact info then! I might not be the club manager when you come back, but I can still show you the ropes."
Roy and Harry exchanged numbers, then Roy dragged a practically salivating Shawty out of there.
On the way back, Shawty looked at Roy curiously.
"Roy, you not feeling Ouroboros?"
"No, I like it."
"Then why not join?"
"If I said yes on the spot, they'd think it was too easy. People don't value what comes too easily. Let them sweat a bit—maybe they'll offer us better terms."
Shawty's eyes lit up, practically drooling again.
"What, like they'll send five supermodels to 'convince' me? That's terrifying just thinking about it!"
Roy shot Shawty a look—this guy's imagination was wild.
"Keep dreaming. I'm heading to the boxing club to sign up."
Roy walked off toward the boxing club, while Shawty stayed behind, lost in his fantasies, practically leaving a puddle of drool on the ground.
---
Meanwhile, at the girls' dorm, Niddy was walking across campus with Ashley.
"Ashley, thank God Roy brought you to UCLA, or I'd be bored out of my mind!"
Ashley and Niddy had gotten super close—not quite as tight as Niddy was with Jennifer, but definitely bestie-level.
"What's up? Is Jennifer super busy? I haven't seen her in a couple days."
"Jennifer's trying to join a sorority. She's been buried in research about them."
Niddy looked a bit helpless.
Not everyone was into fraternities or sororities, like Niddy and Ashley.
Niddy was socially awkward and preferred staying in her dorm playing video games over socializing.
Ashley wasn't big on socializing either. Coming from a poor rural background, she only got to college with Roy's help and felt too self-conscious to join a sorority.
"Jennifer's just trying to help Roy out, so it makes sense she's busy."
"I get it, but sometimes it's just… ugh, lonely."
Jennifer was in business school with clear goals, and Niddy understood her drive.
The problem was, coming all the way from their hometown to LA, with Roy often busy and Jennifer tied up, Niddy felt isolated.
Thankfully, Ashley filled that gap.
Ashley didn't have big ambitions—she just wanted to live a good life with Roy. Schoolwork-wise, she was coasting, which left her plenty of time to hang with Niddy.
"Don't overthink it, Niddy. Once things settle down, we'll all have more time."
"Yeah, you're right. Oh, we're here!"
They reached UCLA's mailroom, and Niddy started sorting through her mail, with Ashley helping out.
Niddy had set up a server in her dorm, but since the campus internet was fast, she figured it was time for an upgrade and had ordered a bunch of new parts.
Those parts weren't light, and even with Niddy's above-average strength, it was a bit of a hassle.
As they sorted, Ashley found a thin envelope.
"Niddy, there's a letter for you!"
"A letter? Let me see!"
Niddy tore it open and found an invitation inside.
Dear Ms. Niddy Lesnicki,
Based on your IQ test results from our website, we cordially invite you to participate in a brand-new intellectual game, "Escape Room"! If you're interested, please come to XXX Street, Los Angeles, at 8:00 PM this Sunday.
—The Puzzlemaster
"An invitation to an intellectual game?"
Niddy was surprised. She loved playing brain teasers and taking IQ tests online, but she couldn't immediately place which website this came from.
"Weird, why's this guy using a nickname like 'Puzzlemaster' instead of a real name?"
"Some people get so into their online personas that they start using their usernames in real life. It's kind of an escape from reality. I went through a phase like that, but Roy talked me out of it."
Niddy grinned. "So, what was your username?"
Ashley's question made Niddy blush.
"Don't laugh, okay? It was… Super Genius Beautiful Girl."
Ashley Parker (21, Black Widow)
(End of Chapter)