Chapter 301: A whole new world
Leo
I heaved a deep, controlled sigh, deliberately pretending the noise had drowned out his words. Without giving him an answer, I leaned down lower, burying my face deep into the center of his chest and closing my eyes tightly for the remainder of the bumpy trip, using the exhaustion as my shield.
The grueling ride through the dense camouflage jungle took about an hour before the terrain suddenly smoothed out. The buggy slowed down, coming to a halt in front of a pair of gigantic, solid white gates that slowly groaned open, allowing our caravan to roll through.
"Wow... this is amazing," I muttered, my eyes widening in sheer awe as we passed the threshold.
The very first thing that welcomed us was a monumental stone archway spanning across a wide, perfectly paved multi-lane highway. Carved in deep, gold lettering across the top were the words: SOLACE FOR ENIGMAS.
Flanking both sides of the grand entrance were two massive, towering waterfalls that cascaded down sheer artificial stone cliffs, the mist catching the light of the streetlamps like liquid silver.
As the buggy accelerated down the clean highway, the trees cleared entirely to reveal an immense, sprawling skyline. Massive, ultra-modern glass buildings and soaring skyscrapers pierced through the evening sky, illuminated by thousands of neon lights.
It was a flawless, high-tech city dropped right into the heart of an uncharted island—a hidden mini- world completely cut off from the rest of civilization. No one in the outside world would have ever guessed a whole new world was thriving right behind those primitive trees.
"Enigmas actually stay here?" Miller whispered, his eyes tracking the sleek architecture.
I nodded dumbly, still taking in the view.
According to the classified information I had managed to get from Nico before we left, this was a sovereign sanctuary. Enigmas who had been systematically sidelined, hunted, or hidden away by foreign societies lived here in complete freedom.
It was a refuge for those rescued from government execution orders or illegal laboratory testing.
My uncle, Anderson park had dropped a vague mention of its existence once during a family dinner, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect the reality to be this magical.
"Wow," I exclaimed, letting out a heavy breath as I leaned over the side of the buggy. "It’s incredibly beautiful."
"Really beautiful," Miller agreed, though his eyes were fixed entirely on my face instead of the buildings.
The buggy ride finally slowed down, pulling up the grand circular driveway of a massive, pristine white mansion that stood out against the modern skyscrapers like an old-world palace.
The moment the vehicle clicked into park, Fati, Anita, and James stepped out onto the gravel, turning back to face us. Fati extended a hand toward the heavy double doors of the estate. "The President would like to speak with you two immediately."
I exchanged a wary, confused look with Miller, our guards instantly going up.
Sensing the sudden tension between us, Fati quickly softened her tone to explain. "The President is the one who founded SFE in the first place. He is the sole authority who personally reviewed and approved your applications to come here. He has been eagerly waiting for your arrival all evening."
"Oh," I responded, the anxiety easing slightly as I reached up to scratch the back of my neck. "Understood."
Miller didn’t hesitate. He reached across the seat and firmly grasped my hand, squeezing my fingers. I looked at him, a wave of profound relief washing over me at the simple reminder that I wasn’t facing this strange new world alone; I was doing it with him.
I gave him a small, grateful smile as we climbed out of the buggy and walked toward the entrance, trailing close behind Fati while James and Anita brought up the rear.
The interior of the mansion was even more breathtaking than the outside. It felt less like a residential home and more like a high-end European museum. The walls were lined with expensive mahogany paneling, gold-leaf accents, and massive oil paintings. Right in the center of the grand foyer hung a towering, floor-to-ceiling portrait of an elderly man with a caption etched into a bronze plaque underneath: Gerald Lincoln, Founder and President of SFE.
The man in the painting looked well into his late seventies, possessing a sharp, commanding gaze.
We climbed a massive, sweeping marble staircase, our footsteps echoing lightly against the stone. Every single corridor we turned down was heavily patrolled by guards clad in identical black tactical suits, their frames bulky and imposing. But as we walked past them, a sudden realization hit me, causing the hair on my arms to stand up.
Every single guard was letting their presence bleed into the air. Their heavy Enigma scents were completely untamed—thick, dominant, and intense.
Unlike me, who had spent my entire life suffocating my own nature and holding back my scent to blend in with normal society, these men didn’t suppress a single drop of who they were. The concentration of power in the hallway was dizzying.
Finally, after walking a long, quiet hallway covered in a plush red carpet, we reached a set of gigantic, solid black double doors.
Two massive guards standing at the entrance immediately gripped the iron handles, throwing the doors wide open for us.
Fati stepped aside, gesturing politely into the room.
We walked through, the heavy doors shutting silently behind us.
The room was vast but dimly lit, the only significant illumination casting down from a massive crystal chandelier hanging directly over our heads. The office was decorated in an elegant, old-fashioned style—heavy antique desks, rows of leather-bound books, and dark velvet drapes.
Standing right in the center of the room, with his back turned to us, was a man. He was dressed in a pristine white three-piece suit detailed with intricate red embroidery along the cuffs, his hand resting heavily on the silver handle of an elegant walking cane.
Hearing our footsteps, the elderly man slowly turned around to face us. Just as the portrait had shown, his hair and thick beard were completely snow-white, but his eyes were incredibly sharp and bright as they locked onto us.
A warm, welcoming smile broke through his beard as his gaze traveled from Miller straight to me.
"Welcome, Leo Ackerman and Miller Reid," the old man said, his deep, resonant voice easily filling the silent space. He lifted his cane slightly in a polite greeting. "My name is Gerald Lincoln."