SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 205: Veiled Horizon

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting gold-tinted stripes across the bed sheets and the mess of tangled limbs we’d turned into overnight. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache from simple stillness. One arm was pinned beneath Alexis, the other wrapped instinctively around Sienna, whose warmth radiated against my chest like a heartbeat I could borrow. Camille’s leg was still draped lazily over my knee, completely unbothered by gravity, social norms or the words I had just told her. And Evelyn, blindfold still on, had somehow crept closer, her head now resting lightly against my side.

I didn’t move. I didn’t want to disturb this moment. It was absurd, cramped, a logistical nightmare, and yet peaceful.

Eventually, likely due to the conversation that me and Camille had, Sienna stirred against me, her breath catching slightly as she adjusted. Alexis let out a soft grumble but didn’t let go of my arm. Evelyn, however, tensed the moment she realized how close she’d gotten. Her hand jerked back and she sat upright with a gasp, cheeks flushed red as she scooted awkwardly toward the edge of the bed.

"S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to..." she started, readjusting her blindfold and attempting to reposition the blanket like a barrier.

"It’s alright," I murmured, voice still scratchy from sleep. "You didn’t bite."

That only made her flush harder. "Still. Boundaries. I... overstepped."

Camille rolled onto her back, stretching dramatically as she yawned. "Oh please, it’s not like you were spooning him. You were barely ghost-touching."

Sienna giggled quietly, her hand still resting gently on my chest. "It’s okay, Evelyn. We were all practically stacked like furniture."

Alexis finally opened one eye. "You’re fine. Rey’s practically a heat lamp. Everyone gravitates toward him when it’s cold."

"I’m not a heater," I said.

"You kind of are," Camille mumbled, already halfway back to sleep. "Also I can’t believe that you agreed with what I asked."

That made Evelyn pause. "Agreed with what?"

I hesitated. "That we should go on vacation."

It was quiet for a moment, and I expected at least one person to laugh or wave it off. But to my surprise, no one did. Sienna adjusted her posture slightly. "That... might not be the worst idea."

Alexis blinked at me. "You’re serious?"

I nodded. "Just for a while. Enough to regroup. Anthony said it himself, no one expects us to rest."

Camille grinned. "I’ve never packed this fast in my life."

And with that, the slow tide of movement began. Pillows were tossed, limbs untangled, and everyone shuffled around the apartment with renewed purpose. Camille had already commandeered her office as a makeshift planning hub. The moment I heard the word "swimsuit" escape her lips, I knew something chaotic was brewing.

I pulled out my travel bag and started gathering my essentials, basic clothes, a few things to stay in shape, my swimsuit, and enough electronics to keep in contact with Anthony. I tried to keep it light. We weren’t going into hiding. We were going somewhere to breathe.

Voices echoed from Camille’s office as I passed by.

"You’re really bringing that one?" Alexis asked, equal parts scandalized and amused.

"I like the color," Evelyn replied, her tone clipped and precise.

Sienna let out a giggle. "It’s not the color that’s the issue. It’s the lack of fabric."

Camille was unapologetic. "Sienna why do you think I designed it that way? It’s obviously to make him pass out from shock."

I cleared my throat loudly as I passed the door. Silence. Then light laughter and giggles exploded from within. I shook my head, fighting the urge to smile.

Night had fallen by the time we finished packing. We left under the cover of darkness, not out of fear, but to avoid the eyes that would no doubt recognize us in daylight. Evelyn had arranged everything. Tinted cars waited outside the building, and we climbed in with the kind of efficiency that only came from experience. There were no public terminals this time, no waiting in lines. Just silence, engines, and city lights sliding across the windows like whispers.

We arrived at the private airfield just past midnight. The sky above was pitch black, a velvet canvas scattered with stars, but the ground was all sterile white light, runway lamps, overhead floodlights, and the cold gleam of metal.

The jet Evelyn had arranged stood at the center like a prize display. Sleek, state-of-the-art, its metallic body curved like a blade, the tail painted with a sharp red insignia I didn’t recognize. A security team flanked the perimeter, moving with practiced rhythm and alert but not alarmed. The air smelled of fuel and ozone, the tarmac still warm from the day’s heat. Everything was... perfect.

Too perfect.

The moment my foot hit the tarmac, something snapped inside me.

My Instinct skill flared, no, it screamed. Not a whisper of warning. A visceral pull, like a wire yanked taut inside my chest. My muscles locked, heartbeat spiked. It wasn’t nerves. It was certainty.

Something was wrong.

I froze mid-step.

The others kept walking, laughing quietly, dragging their luggage behind them, until the silence behind them grew too loud.

"Rey?" Alexis turned, her brow furrowing. "What’s wrong?"

I didn’t answer right away. My eyes were locked on the jet. Every inch of it radiated wrongness. It wasn’t just suspicious, it felt fatal. Like stepping into that plane meant choosing death with a smile. The instinct didn’t just resist; it recoiled.

My stomach twisted again, tighter. My lungs refused a full breath. I took a slow step backward.

"No," I muttered. "No, we’re not taking that one."

Evelyn looked in my direction, confused. "That’s the jet I arranged."

"I know," I said quietly, never taking my eyes off the fuselage. "But we’re not getting on it."

Camille followed my gaze. "Is there a reason you’re going full prophet-mode, or are we trusting your gut again?"

I raised a hand and pointed toward another plane parked farther down the airstrip. This one was less polished. Smaller. The kind of quiet, mid-range executive jet that blended into a sea of others. It felt safe compared to the arranged plane.

"That one," I said. "We take that one."

There was a beat of silence. No argument. No debate.

Camille turned first, tugging her luggage without a word.

Sienna followed her, sparing me only a small, solemn nod.

Alexis gave me a hard look, half worry, half trust, then moved to catch up.

Even Evelyn hesitated only a second longer. She looked between the original jet and me, then muttered something to the handler. The crew looked confused, hurried, but didn’t protest. A man with a clipboard and headset barked new instructions while ground staff started prepping the substitute aircraft.

I didn’t look back.

Every step toward the second jet felt like stepping away from a cliff’s edge I hadn’t known I’d been standing on.

We boarded in silence.

And for a moment, just before the doors closed behind us, I allowed myself a breath of relief.

It was the right call.

It had to be.

The inside was just as comfortable, sleek seats, soft lights, high ceilings for a private jet. I dropped into a seat by the window and exhaled deeply. The others spread out, laughter returning as the tension faded. Camille curled up in the recliner across from me with a glossy magazine she probably hadn’t paid for. Sienna claimed the window beside me, already half-asleep. Alexis brought out a tablet and started sorting through encrypted files. Evelyn sat stiffly in the back, legs crossed, hands folded tightly in her lap like she was trying to maintain control in a ship with no helm.

As we climbed into the sky, the city shrank beneath us. We were flying over darkness, heading out toward the ocean.

For the first time in days... I felt calm.

I let my eyes fall shut. Let my mind wander. Not to war, or death, or broadcasts. Just the warmth of the cabin, the softness of the seat, the girls around me, each of them alive, safe. It was enough.

For a few hours, it was enough.

My phone buzzed.

I opened my eyes slowly, rubbing at the tiredness that still clung to them.

Anthony.

I answered.

"Hey."

"Boss," Anthony said. "I heard you refused the jet Evelyn called in. You alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "Didn’t feel right."

There was a pause. I could almost hear the weight settle into Anthony’s voice.

"You made the right call," he said. "We just got confirmation. That plane... one of the internal mechanics found tampering in the left engine. Missing bolts. Sabotage. If you’d flown—"

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

"Thanks for letting me know," I said quietly.

There was a long breath on the other end.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I’m fine."

"You sure?"

I looked out the window.

The ocean stretched endlessly below us, a dark mirror with no bottom.

And then, for some reason I couldn’t explain, my heart dropped.

Anthony’s voice came again, but it sounded further away this time.

"Boss? You there? Boss?"

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

My gaze had gone distant, my hand falling slowly from the phone. My mind, for all its clarity, had gone still.

Because in that exact moment, I realized something.

Something terrible.

I had made the worst mistake of my life.

And there was no turning back.

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