SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery

Dinner was a quieter affair than usual, though that might have been because we were all still processing the events of the day. Sienna had outdone herself—roasted chicken with herbs, garlic mashed potatoes, and vegetables that actually looked appetizing. The kind of home-cooked meal that reminded you why having someone who cared was worth more than any restaurant.

Alexis sat across from me, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked better than she had hours ago—the redness around her eyes had faded, and she'd regained some of that clinical composure I associated with her. But there was still a softness there, a vulnerability she wasn't quite ready to hide yet. It wasn't a pleasant sight to say the least.

"This is amazing, Sienna," Camille said around a mouthful of chicken, her wild energy somewhat tempered by exhaustion. "Seriously. I don't know how you do it."

Sienna smiled warmly from her seat beside me. "It's not that complicated. Just takes time and attention."

"Two things I don't have," Camille admitted with a grin.

Evelyn sat at the end of the table, her blindfold still in place, methodically cutting her food with the kind of precision that came from years of practice. She'd been quieter than usual since our conversation earlier, but I could see the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth. Hope looked good on her.

"So," Alexis said, setting down her fork and looking directly at me. "I'll need a few days to analyze the data I collected during the surgery. The neural pathways, the System integration points, all of it. But once I have a clear picture, I should be able to design a procedure to reverse the Cain Protocol's effects."

"How long do you think?" I asked.

"It shouldn't be to long. A couple days to a week at most," she said. "I want to run multiple simulations first. Make absolutely sure I'm not missing anything. This isn't something I can afford to get wrong."

"Take all the time you need," I said firmly. "We're not rushing this."

Evelyn's hand paused mid-cut. "But not too long, right?" Her voice carried a hint of that vulnerability I'd heard earlier. "I mean, if you're sure it'll work…"

Alexis's expression softened. "I'll work as fast as I can without compromising safety. I promise."

"That's all we can ask for," Sienna added gently, reaching across the table to squeeze Evelyn's free hand.

Camille leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs in that way that always made Sienna nervous. "So Rey just casually died and came back from the dead today. Are we all just… okay with that?"

"I wouldn't say casually," I replied dryly.

"You know what I mean," Camille said, waving her hand dramatically. "Your heart stopped for three minutes. Three minutes. That's not normal, even for you."

"Nothing about Rey is normal. He's an anomaly in so many aspects of life that it'd be a stretch to call him human at this point." Evelyn pointed out, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Fair point," Camille conceded.

Alexis cleared her throat. "For the record, I still think it was an unacceptable level of risk. And I stand by my statement that Rey is never doing that again."

"Already promised," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender.

"Good." Alexis picked up her fork again, stabbing at a piece of chicken with slightly more force than necessary. "Because I don't think my heart could take watching you flatline a second time."

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of what she'd said settling over all of us.

Sienna broke the silence first, her caring nature pushing through. "But he came back. And now we have a way to help Evelyn. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"It counts for everything," Evelyn said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

I looked around the table at the four of them—Sienna with her auburn hair and gentle smile, Camille with her wild energy barely contained, Alexis with her clinical precision wrapped around a core of deep feeling, and Evelyn with her blindfold and newfound hope.

This. This was why I'd taken the risk. Why I'd let Alexis open my skull and dive into my brain. Why I'd died for three minutes and come back.

Not for power. Not for the System upgrades I'd received—though those were certainly welcome.

For them.

For the possibility of giving Evelyn her sight back. For the chance to undo even a fraction of the damage the World President had done.

"So what's next?" Camille asked, breaking the moment with her typical inability to sit in heavy emotions for too long. "Besides Alexis doing her science thing and Rey recovering from literal death?"

"I was planning to do absolutely nothing for at least twenty-four hours," I admitted.

"Boring," Camille declared.

"Responsible," Alexis corrected.

"Same thing," Camille muttered.

Sienna laughed softly. "Let him rest, Camille. He's earned it."

"I suppose," Camille said with an exaggerated sigh. "But only because I'm generous and forgiving."

"And because Alexis will kill you if you don't," Evelyn added with a smirk.

"That too," Camille agreed cheerfully.

The rest of dinner passed with lighter conversation—Sienna talking about a recipe she wanted to try, Camille complaining about a difficult outfit that a client requested to be made, Evelyn mentioning something she'd heard on the news. Normal things. Grounding things.

By the time we finished, I felt more human than I had in hours. The food helped. The company helped more.

I was helping Sienna clear the table when Camille appeared at my elbow, tugging on my sleeve like an insistent child.

"Rey, I need you to come to my office," she said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. It's important."

"Important how?"

"Office. Now." She pulled harder on my sleeve, and I sighed, handing the plates I'd been holding to Sienna.

"Go," Sienna said with an amused smile. "I'll finish up here."

I followed Camille down the hallway to her office—a space that was somehow both organized chaos and perfectly functional. The walls were usually lined with fabric samples, design sketches, and partially completed outfits in various states of assembly.

But as I stepped inside, I noticed something off.

The mannequins that usually displayed her work were mostly empty. The racks that held finished pieces were sparse. Even her material storage—normally overflowing with bolts of fabric and supplies—looked significantly depleted.

And most notably, the Masked Syndicate masks that she usually kept displayed as some of her most proud work were almost entirely gone.

"Sit," Camille commanded, gesturing to the red velvet couch against the far wall.

I sat, then decided to lie down instead, my head resting on one of the ridiculously soft cushions. The couch was one of Camille's better investments—expensive, but worth every penny. It really was the most comfortable piece of furniture in our home.

The door opened again, and Camille entered, closing it behind her. She looked at me sprawled across her couch and smiled, that mischievous glint appearing in her dark eyes.

Without warning, she walked over and lay down on top of me, her head resting on my chest, her body pressed against mine.

"Comfortable?" I asked, amused despite myself.

"Very," she said, then shifted to look up at me with an exaggerated pout. "You haven't spent enough time with me lately."

"I've been busy," I said, already playing with strands of her dark hair between my fingers.

"Busy dying, apparently," she muttered. "Which doesn't count as quality time, by the way."

"Noted. I'll keep this in mind in case my brain is ever exposed."

"And before that, you were in Brazil for a month. A whole month, Rey. Do you know how boring it is here without you? Who am I supposed to tease if not you?"

"You have Sienna and Alexis and Evelyn."

"Not the same." She poked my chest for emphasis. "They're great, but you're you. And I missed you."

I smiled, continuing to play with her hair. "I missed you too."

She made a satisfied sound, settling more comfortably against me. For a moment, I just enjoyed it—the warmth of her, the weight of her body against mine, the simple pleasure of being close to someone who cared.

But I doubted she'd called me here just for this.

"You're running out of materials," I said, glancing around the noticeably emptier office.

Camille lifted her chin, resting it on my chest so she could look directly at me. "Am I that obvious?"

"Your office is usually bursting at the seams. Now it looks like you're preparing to move out."

"Observant as always," she said with a slight smile. "But yes. I've been working on something big. Really big."

"How big?"

Her smile widened, and I could see genuine excitement in her eyes. The kind that came from a project she was genuinely passionate about.

"The Masked Syndicate is having a museum exhibition."

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

I'm sorry… what?