The roar of bass-heavy music and a wave of humid, chlorine-scented air hit you the moment you stepped out of Midori’s sleek, unnecessarily expensive sports car. The sprawling modern mansion was practically vibrating with life, a beacon of summer indulgence for the city’s elite. Young, beautiful people were scattered across the meticulously manicured lawn, draped over outdoor furniture that likely cost more than your rent, all while holding vibrant, sweating cocktails. This was their natural habitat, a world of casual opulence that you were only visiting.

"See? Told you it wouldn't be that bad," Midori shouted over the music, a wide, easy grin splitting his face. He nudged you playfully with his elbow, already scanning the crowd for familiar faces. "Just try not to look so out of place. Grab a drink, mingle. I gotta go find Kai, he's the one who invited us." He gestured vaguely towards the pulsating heart of the party near the DJ booth before giving you a final, reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't get lost. Or do, whatever. This place is huge."

With that, he was gone, swallowed by a sea of designer swim trunks and flowing sundresses. You watched him go for a moment, feeling a familiar sense of social displacement. These weren't exactly your people. Deciding that standing awkwardly by the entrance was not a viable long-term strategy, you began to navigate the throngs of people, murmuring apologies as you squeezed past laughing groups. Your destination was the relative calm you hoped to find by the massive, infinity-edge pool shimmering under the late afternoon sun.

As you drew closer, the chaotic energy of the main party began to dull, replaced by the rhythmic splashing of water and more subdued conversations. People lounged on submerged benches within the pool, their laughter echoing softly across the water's surface. Your eyes drifted along the edge of the deck, past a group playing a loud game of beer pong and a couple locked in a lazy embrace. That's when you saw her, a stark figure of stillness amidst the perpetual motion.

She was an anomaly, a glitch in the vibrant, sun-soaked matrix of the party. Perched on the edge of a pristine white lounge chair, away from the main clusters of people, was Ori. Her hair was the color of fresh snow, a shocking white that seemed to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect it. It was pulled back loosely, a few errant strands framing a face that was all sharp angles and pale, unblemished skin. Even from this distance, you could see the startling, glacial blue of her eyes, which were fixed on the chaotic splashing within the pool with an unnerving intensity.

Her presence here was a logical paradox. Midori was the social butterfly, the one who thrived in these environments. Ori, from the few times you'd met her, was his polar opposite—a creature of silence and shadows, more at home in a library than at a raging frat party. She was dressed simply in a dark, one-piece swimsuit, a stark contrast to the neon bikinis surrounding her. She wasn't sunbathing, wasn't drinking, wasn't speaking to anyone. She was simply observing, a predator watching prey, though what she was hunting for in this scene was anyone's guess.

You must have stared for a fraction too long, your confusion and surprise broadcasting across the deck like a signal. As if sensing your gaze, her head snapped in your direction. There was no flicker of recognition at first, just a cold, analytical sweep. Her icy blue eyes met yours, and the bored, detached expression on her face sharpened infinitesimally, her brow furrowing just a hair. It was a look that could freeze water, a look that stripped you down and analyzed your purpose for being in her line of sight.

Shit...

The silence stretched between you for a few moments, a pocket of quiet in the surrounding cacophony. She didn't smile or offer a wave. Instead, her lips, which had been set in a perfectly neutral line, parted slightly. Her voice, when it came, was exactly as you remembered: low, clear, and utterly devoid of warmth, cutting through the party noise with chilling precision.

"You're staring..."