Simon sat casually on the couch, tapping his knees in a rhythm, eyes flicking in the direction of the gate in anticipation. The party was starting soon, and he had made sure every detail was meticulously planned. His grandparents were lingering around too—'cool' enough to let things slide, even alcohol. They knew what modern parties were like and didn't bat an eye at underage drinking.
Most of the action would happen outside, by the pool, where the gates were already wide open to welcome guests. Simon liked the idea of open gates—a sense of freedom, but still within the confines of his controlled environment. He glanced over his shoulder when someone entered.
"Yooo, Tyler! First as usual, huh?"
"Yeah..." Tyler scratched the back of his head, his mood clearly off. He slumped next to Simon on the couch, barely engaging in the small talk that followed.
Simon observed him quietly, piecing things together as he always did. His suspicions were confirmed when Sarah arrived minutes later, looking bright and carefree.
Ahh... So this is what it's all about. A quiet smile crept across Simon's face. Unfortunate... but I was right, at least.
More people streamed in as the afternoon progressed, the volume rising with the music. Some guests splashed in the pool, while others stayed inside, lounging at the tables and chairs Simon had so deliberately arranged. Everything was falling into place, just as he envisioned.
"Yoo, long time no see, Simon!" A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
Simon turned, feigning surprise. "Ivan! No way, is that you?" He grinned wide, greeting him with an exaggerated high five. "Thought you died or something!"
"Yeah..." Ivan chuckled weakly. "Rough times."
"Hey, we've all been there. If you ever wanna talk, I'm always here for an old friend."
"Nah, I'm good for now. But thanks, man."
That was the tone for most of Simon's interactions—friendly, familiar, but with an undercurrent of manipulation. He had planted seeds of guilt in nearly every guest's mind, gaslighting them into believing they'd forgotten his birthday the past few years. No one questioned today being the celebration, even though it wasn't his actual birthdate.
Later, Simon sought out his friend Mark, knowing him to be the perfect pawn for his next scheme.
"Hey Mark, got an idea for a game," Simon said, voice casual. "It's like... mystery boxes. You get one, and you can pass it to the next person, but only if they agree to take it. If not, you're stuck with whatever's inside."
Mark's eyes lit up at the concept. He loved the attention, and Simon knew he'd take the credit for the game, passing it off as his own idea. Perfect. That was the plan. Simon wanted Mark to feel like he was in control, all while Simon pulled the strings from behind the scenes.
Mark announced the game to the crowd, standing between the pool and the room where people were gathered. The music lowered as the guests turned to listen. Simon stood just behind him, a hollow smile playing on his lips, watching the web tighten.
The chairs Simon had positioned earlier now resembled a maze, forcing the partygoers into the exact spots he'd envisioned. He had orchestrated every move, every reaction—where people would sit, how long it would take for them to shift, who would hesitate, and who would leap at the chance for attention.
And now, Sarah stood in line, position 23. Simon subtly slid in behind her, his presence unnoticed by anyone except perhaps her. Everything was perfectly set. The mystery box moved through the crowd, and with each pass, the tension built. No one had yet refused to take it, a fact Simon had expected. The thrill of the unknown kept them engaged.
Now, it was Sarah's turn.
The crowd's energy shifted, all eyes on her. Cheering, taunting, urging her to take the box. Simon could feel it—this was the moment he had crafted, the culmination of his calculations. He had predicted every possible outcome, anticipated every variable.
She'll take it, he thought, his eyes fixed on her. She has to.
Sarah hesitated, her fingers grazing the box's surface. The crowd roared in excitement, the pressure mounting. The previous holders had played their part perfectly, reacting just enough to create intrigue but never enough to scare anyone off. Simon's foresight had been precise.
All Sarah has to do now is take it... then I'll know to say that I refuse to stretch this game for any longer, refusing, forcing her to eat what's inside...