Chapter Text
Even before the first day of school Sarah attracted more attention than necessary. A team of designers and maids had spent days organizing her room and delivering her furniture, clothes, plus other countless essentials. This extravagance wasn’t unusual for the Byron Institute, but something felt different. Sarah’s presence was sensed, or rather, feared, before she even arrived. People trying to find out who she was, what she looked like, how rich was her family, and if she would be useful or not.
Meanwhile, the rulers of every day school grounds, the F4, were trying to get information on Sarah by any means necessary, and the best they got was her mother’s maiden name. F4, meaning Flower Four, were a group formed by the prettiest and wealthiest heirs in Europe. Castiel Veilmont , Nathaniel Carello, Armin and Lysander To be fair, the only one truly obsessed with this new arrival was Castiel, the primary leader.
As soon as they started investigating, they were subpoenaed by a legal team, and had to formally apologize to a girl that didn’t even show her face after suing them. Is she powerful enough to be a friend? Or is she a threat that would turn into a most dangerous enemy? Castiel would bring Sarah as a subject at least five times a day, Armin and Nathaniel had a bet and kept score of any mentions to Sarah. Unfortunately, the best they could find was that she would arrive just after christmas. When the group blackmailed that information out of a governess of the school, only Castiel got puzzled. What does it mean? Why would she miss the holidays? Miss the New Year? Alone in that gigantic school? Maybe it was a punishment ...His theory was thoroughly developed, and completely foolish.
-I bet the reason is that she is a spoiled socialite and her parents can’t stand her anymore. The punishment will be the christmas hollidays, christmas eve might be too much, so they took the New Year as well.
- Castiel is projecting again. - Armin poked Nathaniel to let his friend know the score was going up.
- If she is a stupid bimbo that throws tantrums it wouldn’t be your type anyway. - Nathaniel contributed to the paranoia but Castiel didn’t even seem to hear him.
- She would be his soulmate in that case. - Armin mumbled to himself.
- I don’t care about her. It's about If people found out we can’t control her, that we are scared, that she can go against us... it would set a precedent. Also, she might be an alliance we could use. Most girls in this place are either too poor or too useless.
- Is this your way of teaching us about power?
- I’m the one known as the leader
- Who told you that? - Armin begun, suddenly sharpened. - People probably got confused, you are just the one walking in the middle.
Couple of weeks would pass with the murmurs and gossip still running the hallways. When the festivities began and the Institute was starting to get empty, the F4 were the last to leave, mostly due to Castiel's intuition that she could arrive any moment, contrary to the information he had. The F4 convinced their leader to enter the private jet and forget all about the siren of his nightmares.
Just as stated, the immediate nights before Christmas, Sarah Von Minuteli was left all alone in a big fancy room with no one to talk to at the Byron Institute. Her father and her had had dinner the night before, and that was the only departure he could offer. He was so sad to part with his only child, but for Sarah’s education and future, it was best. Her father, Jasper Von Minuteli, was the only male son and head of the family's business and investments. Other than that, Sarah used to joke around that her dear dad thought of himself much younger than he was. He liked extreme sports, traveling, trying new foods and adventuring in nature. He was a father that would try anything once, Jasper would treat Sarah as a friend instead of asserting any kind of paternal severity.
The first time Sarah drank alcohol was when she was around 8 years old. Her life was fun but mostly also pervaded the boredom of dining alone all the time in hotels or at airplanes, some stranger always picking you up at places, a man with sunglasses and black suits watching over you. Despite those uncomfortable moments, her father would always make up for not showing up and being busy. He apologized as if working had gotten in the way of their very important teddy bear shopping, dolls tea parties and cupcake making in the kitchen. On her birthday, his flight was delayed, and when he arrived in Shanghai he found his daughter asleep on the couch of the suíte, still in the party princess dress she refused to take it off. He woke her up and they had a 3 a.m feast. He ordered fast-food and had bought her favorite blueberry and vanilla cake. They ate more than necessary, played board games, and her father told her stories of his past.
Jasper was an impossible child, selfish and hard to discipline. It took him so long to get his life on track and become the man his father, and Sarah’s grandfather, wanted him to be. Jasper told his daughter he was terrified of being a bad influence or that Sarah would get his temperament. Most of her angelic side was from her mother, Cecília Filippovna Barashkov , a testament to Sarah’s good virtues, he would repeat over and over. After the cake, he gave her champagne, it was their secret, he said. Sarah knew people like them didn’t keep secrets. Mostly because it was impossible, the more money you have, the more dependent you seem to become. For a kid, it seemed almost biblical that everyday you would see at least the same ten people that work for you, live for you and know all about you. A lucky coincidence of the universe determined Sarah’s life should be this way, she thought. No one questioned it, she looked around constantly, waiting for someone to approach her and say; why are you so special? Aren’t you a human just like me? Why are you treated like an ancient god or king? Who nominated you for the absolute hypocrisy of money?
Other than that, there was the fact nothing had real consequences. This slippery slope, her father told her, was something she had to navigate by herself. Rich kids can’t be raised. They raise themselves due to the maturity printed on the paper called money, and rich kids raise themselves around parents that never completely grew up. She could drink the entire champagne if she wanted to. And she tried. Barely thirty minutes later she threw up, humbled and the most human she’d ever felt. Natural things can’t be cheated with money, the universe will demand balance, the price for slipping on excess was the same for every man on earth.
Thus, Sarah was used to living all around the world, making friends everywhere, but always being distant to actual reality. Her family was small, scattered around the world, they would meet once a year in a celebratory dinner ceremony in Switzerland, where her grandfather would decide and intervene the destiny of whomever he thought necessary.
That year, her grandfather made a long speech and even cried divagating about some old summer in Thailand. Suddenly, he got to talking about Sarah. Being sixteen, it was imperative Sarah got elite education, not that nonsense of homeschooling with random teachers, studying before dinner parties and being jet lagged. She was far behind in her grandfather’s eyes, and her father agreed he often felt she was too lonely and grew up too fast.
Sarah took the opportunity to negotiate a roommate, it was the best part of the experience of a boarding school, she thought, but her father preferred she had her own room. One’s mind needs silence, solitude and privacy, he used to argue. Without family, you will have no choice but to trust strangers, the decision left is to guard yourself when you sleep. The students there are not regular students, nothing about Sarah’s life was regular anyways, but never had she conceived a building that combined that much worth of billions and teenage rage at the same time.
Although smart and even capable of cynicism, Sarah had her heart on her sleeves. She believed in people’s actions and followed her guts, believing her mastery of direct eye contact and a strong handshake to determine proper character. If someone, once, one day, by chance, gave her a sincere smile, she would remember their face for months. She had always accepted the fate of her life. She was not a religious person, despite all.
Arriving at the Bryon Institute was not as hard as she initially thought. To be honest, she was feeling kind of unbothered. A set of numb feelings started to settle in, and she just got a quieter and quieter head. Later at night, after a bath and after wondering in empty halls, she was re-organizing her shelf the way she preferred, trying to pick something to read, someone knocked on the door. It could be a maid with dinner, but it was not.
It was a boy.