SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery

Finding them wasn't to difficult. Evelyn was in her office reading what was likely a philosophical book of sorts. Camille was curled up curled up in our bed, I couldn't tell if she had breakfast quickly and went back or if she had never left in the first place. Sienna was in the kitchen, cleaning up the breakfast dishes with methodical precision.

"Can you all come to the living room?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. "I need to talk to you about something."

The simple request was enough to get their attention. Evelyn paused mid-read, she put on her blindfold, before looking at me as if Psychological Insight picked up on subtle changes in my tone or body language. Camille looked up from her comfortable position with eyes that beamed curiosity. Sienna set down the dish she'd been washing and turned to face me directly.

"What's wrong?" Sienna asked immediately, because of course she could tell something was off just from the way I'd made the request.

"Just... come sit down. Please. All of you."

They exchanged glances, but didn't ask any more questions. Within a few minutes, we were all gathered in the living room. Evelyn and Camille settled onto the couch while Sienna chose the chair closest to where I was standing, her posture alert and ready for whatever bomb I was about to drop.

I looked at their faces, these three incredible women who'd chosen to trust me with their lives, their futures, everything that mattered to them. The weight of what I was about to tell them felt heavier than anything I'd ever carried.

"I lied to you," I said.

The words came out blunt and graceless, nothing like the carefully prepared speech I'd been rehearsing in my head. But once they were spoken, something inside me broke open, and the rest came pouring out in an unstoppable flood.

"Yesterday night, when I came back from the gym limping and covered in bruises, I told you I'd sprained my ankle working out and fallen onto some equipment. That was a lie. I didn't sprain my ankle. I deliberately, systematically destroyed my body for hours until I was on the verge of death, because I wanted the System to give me a skill called Pain Resistance."

I could see the shock starting to register on their faces, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The truth had been bottled up for too long, and now that the cork was out, everything was going to spill.

"And this morning, before breakfast, when Sienna saw me on the couch, I was there because I had performed a second experiment. I ingested enough alcohol to hospitalize most people. Enough to kill someone if they weren't careful about the dosage. I did it deliberately, because I wanted another skill called Poison Resistance, and I knew that it was the only way to get it."

Camille's tea cup had stopped halfway to her lips, her eyes wide with something that might have been admiration or horror. Evelyn had gone completely still in that way she did when processing shocking information. Sienna's face had drained of color, her hands gripping the arms of her chair so tightly I could see her knuckles turning white.

"The assassination attempt," I continued, the words coming faster now as momentum carried me forward. "It made me realize how vulnerable I am. How mortal. How easily someone could poison my food or torture information out of me or kill me in a dozen different ways that all my combat training and tactical skills couldn't prevent. I felt... helpless. Exposed. Like I was walking around with a target painted on my back and no way to protect myself from the kinds of attacks that don't involve direct confrontation."

I started pacing without realizing it, my body needing movement to channel the nervous energy that was building with each confession.

"So I decided to do something about it. To push my body past every reasonable limit until the System had no choice but to give me the tools I needed to survive what's coming. Because there is more coming. There always is. More enemies, more attempts on our lives, more situations where the difference between living and dying comes down to whether I'm tough enough to endure whatever they throw at me."

I stopped pacing and faced them directly, forcing myself to meet their eyes even though what I saw there made my chest tighten with guilt.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't let it happen. You would have tried to stop me, or find safer alternatives, or convince me that there had to be a better way. And maybe you would have been right. But I also knew that safer alternatives would take months or years to develop these skills, and I didn't think we had that kind of time."

"Does Alexis know?" Camille asked quietly. Her voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the strain underneath.

"She found out a couple of hours ago," I admitted. "She figured it out during the medical examination—my injuries were healing too fast, my story had too many holes, my body language gave me away when she started asking questions. But she told me she wouldn't say anything to you. She said telling you was my responsibility."

I ran my hands through my hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed just how much this conversation was costing me.

"And she was right. You deserved to hear this from me, not discover it through medical reports or overheard conversations. You deserved honesty from the beginning, and instead I gave you carefully crafted lies designed to protect you from worrying about decisions I'd already made."

The silence that followed was deafening. I could practically see them processing what I'd told them, working through the implications and trying to reconcile this information with the person they thought they knew.

"I feel pathetic," I said, because the silence was becoming unbearable and because it was true. "This isn't the first time I've done this. This exact pattern of making dangerous choices, hiding them from you, getting caught, promising to do better, and then repeating the whole cycle the next time a crisis comes up. I keep breaking my promises to you, and I keep telling myself that each situation is special enough to justify it."

I looked specifically at Sienna, because I knew she'd been through this with me more times than anyone else.

"How many times have we had conversations where you've expressed concerns about the risks I take, and I've assured you that I'll be more careful? How many times have I promised to keep you informed about anything that might affect our safety? How many times have I looked you in the eyes and sworn that I've learned my lesson, only to prove a few weeks or even days later that I haven't learned anything at all?"

Evelyn was the first to respond, her voice thoughtful but strained. "I understand why you felt you needed these skills. The assassination attempt... it highlighted vulnerabilities that traditional training can't address. And if these resistance abilities actually work the way you think they do, they could save not just your life, but all of ours."

She paused, choosing her words carefully.

"But the deception..." She shook her head. "Rey, we're supposed to be partners in this. All of this. That means trusting us with the hard decisions, not protecting us from them."

Camille nodded in agreement, setting down her cup with care. "If I'm being honest...I'm not angry about the experiments themselves. In fact, I'm kind of impressed that you found a way to trick the System into giving you completely a new categories of skills. That's brilliant, in a completely insane way."

Her expression grew more serious.

"What bothers me is that you assumed we'd try to stop you without even giving us the chance to understand why you thought it was necessary. You made the decision for all of us about what we could and couldn't handle knowing."

Their reactions were almost exactly what I'd expected. It was disappointment tempered by understanding, frustration mixed with reluctant admiration for the results I'd achieved. It was the same pattern I'd seen from Alexis, and it gave me hope that maybe this conversation wouldn't end with them walking away from everything we'd built together.

But throughout this entire exchange, Sienna hadn't said a word.

She sat in her chair like a statue, her face carefully blank in a way that was more terrifying than any emotional outburst would have been. I knew that expression. It was the look she wore when she was so hurt and angry that she couldn't trust herself to speak without saying something she might regret later.

"Sienna?" I said softly, taking a step toward her chair. "Please say something."

She remained silent, but I could see the tension building in her shoulders, the way her jaw was clenched tight with the effort of holding back whatever she was feeling.

"I know I've disappointed you," I continued, desperation creeping into my voice as her continued silence stretched on. "I know this is exactly what you were afraid would happen. I know I've broken your trust in the worst possible way, and I don't expect you to forgive me easily. But please, just... talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

Still nothing. The silence was becoming physically painful, like a pressure building in my chest that made it hard to breathe.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words coming out in a rush. "I'm so sorry, Sienna. I know sorry doesn't fix anything, I know I've said it before and then gone right back to the same behavior, but I mean it. I really do. I promise—"

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain...

One moment I was mid-sentence, pouring my heart out in what felt like the most sincere apology I'd ever given...the most sincere apology I could have ever given. The next moment, my head was snapped to the side and my cheek was burning with the sharp sting of her palm making contact at full force.

The sound echoed through the living room like a gunshot, leaving an immediate silence that felt different from the tension that had preceded it.

The slap came so fast I hadn't seen it coming.

I straightened slowly, raising my hand to touch my cheek where the imprint of her fingers was already starting to throb. My mind was struggling to process what had just happened, like a computer trying to run a program with corrupted data.

Did... she just slap me?