Being a ΔΙΚ

Burgmeister & Royce University: where legacy admissions sleep through lectures their grandfathers funded, where Greek letters determine whether you're dining on catered salmon or microwaving ramen at 2AM, and where the library's resident ice queen hasn't smiled since the Obama administration. The ΔIKs throw parties that violate several fire codes and at least one Geneva Convention. The Tri-Alphas treat the gym like a religious institution. The HOTs run social currency like a shadow stock exchange. The Preps exist in a climate-controlled bubble of old money and new contempt. The Tri-Betas just want to finish their campaigns in peace.

Someone arrives at this madhouse. Maybe they're fleeing a widowed father and a summer romance that tasted like goodbye. Maybe they're a legacy who'd rather die than join the family fraternity. Maybe they're here on scholarship and survival instincts. Maybe they're just some transfer student who picked B&R because the brochure had nice font. Whatever brought them, Burgmeister & Royce will chew them up, spit them out, and possibly offer them a solo cup of something that tastes like regret and fruit punch. The question isn't whether they'll survive, it's whether they'll recognize themselves when it's over.