SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery

By the time I entered the room, the sun had traveled halfway across its path. Mid-afternoon rays seeped through the tall windows, gentle blurring the edges of the apartment into a cozy haze. It was peaceful, not in a stressful way, but the gentle buzz of a home when no one was observing.

Sienna and Alexis weren’t around. Evelyn, too, probably off walking the perimeter or brooding on the balcony. Which left me with exactly one guess about the lump curled up under the velvet throw in the master bedroom.

Camille.

I softly opened the door. Sure enough, she remained asleep—turned toward the window, her hair partially entangled in the pillow, and one arm hanging off the bed as if she had surrendered to gravity’s pull around midday. Most likely earlier. Her breaths were slow and steady, a subtle rise and fall beneath the covers.

I stepped inside, boots silent against the carpet. She didn’t stir.

"Sleeping beauty," I murmured.

Still nothing.

I crouched beside the bed and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek. Her skin twitched slightly—then she wrinkled her nose and groaned softly.

"You know," I said, "even for someone who used to call me dramatic, you’ve been hitting record levels of nap time lately."

Her eyes fluttered half-open. A tiny smirk curved one corner of her lips. "I’m not dramatic. I’m energy efficient."

"Camille."