SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery
Chapter 294: Before the Others Wake
CHAPTER 294: BEFORE THE OTHERS WAKE
I woke up before the others.
That never happened.
For a moment, I just lay there, still tangled in sheets and silence, staring at the ceiling with a creeping sense that something was... off. The room was quiet—not just peaceful, but unnaturally still. No faint rustling of clothes, no footsteps from the kitchen, no hum of morning conversation.
I tilted my head slowly.
Sienna was still asleep beside me, breathing evenly. One hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting near my arm. Alexis, curled up like a cat at the foot of the bed, didn’t even twitch when I shifted. Evelyn had her back to me, her blindfold still tied, hair splayed across the pillow. Camille was buried so deep in the blankets that only the very top of her head stuck out, a dark puff of hair like a warning flag: disturb me and die.
That’s when it really hit me.
I always woke between eight and ten. And even then, I wasn’t the first. Sienna made breakfast like a ritual. Alexis worked on formulas or gadgets before the rest of us were conscious. Evelyn, thanks to her having been an evaluator for the government, rose early and ghosted through the apartment with eerie precision.
Camille was the only one who truly slept in—and she did so like it was a competitive sport. She could be asleep till noon if nobody interfered and that was before she got her job title.
I shifted upright carefully, not wanting to wake anyone. The soft red digits on the clock next to the bed blinked back at me.
7:30 AM.
Huh.
I eased myself out of the bed, letting my feet press against the cool floor. My body ached in the right ways—tight, recovered. Strong. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the satisfying pull of tension across my back and shoulders.
Passing the mirror on the way to the bathroom, I paused.
It always startled me a little. The man staring back wasn’t the same as he used to be 2 years ago. My face was familiar, sure. But the rest—
Muscle definition had crept in slowly over the years, shaped by jobs that pushed me past human limits. Manual labor, hand-to-hand, endurance trials, full-body stress from skill usage.
I didn’t train like this. The System forced it on me.
And now? Now I looked like someone who’d been hitting the gym for years—despite the truth being that most of this change had happened within the last six months, around the time of the mafia tournament.
Honestly, I should go back and check on the operations team, perhaps check in with Milan. I didn’t really talk to them after the situation was resolved.
After a quick shower, I got dressed and moved toward Camille’s office. I hesitated at the door. This place was a sacred jungle of half-finished projects, experimental fabric, and dangerously sharp tools disguised as aesthetic accessories.
I entered like a man disarming a trap.
Thread bobbins. Sketchpads. Glowing rocks and gemstones. Bolts of color-coded cloth hanging like tension wires. The mannequin in the corner still wore the paint-splattered coat, arms spread wide as if caught mid-fall. The mask was beside it on the table, crusted with pink and stiff to the touch.
No progress.
Not surprising, really. I’d only given it to her yesterday. It wasn’t just ruined—it was desecrated. Maybe if she burned energy to max out her skills using her job title, she could repair it in a night. But that came with a cost. Camille didn’t just crash after using her job title. She vanished into sleep like a coma patient.
I quietly backed out, careful not to shift anything out of place.
In the main room, I sank into the couch and opened my System.
The interface slid into place in my mind—cool, familiar. My job list and all their portfolios still glowed with variety. My skills were neatly organized and my special skills were all in their own little sector.
But I hadn’t added anything in a while.
Not since the overheating scare.
I’d been careful. Hesitant to Copy or Absorb from others. I hadn’t sought new jobs. I used what I had, because pushing my limit too far could’ve melted me from the inside out.
But now...
Now I remembered the thick, black, sticky formula Alexis had made me drink.
It tasted like regret and smelled like battery acid—but it worked.
She said it would slow the cell degradation caused by overuse. Maybe even eliminate the risk entirely—for a while.
I should probably ask what was in it, but knowing her, the answer would either be genius or horrifying.
Maybe both.
Knowing this, I should probably get back into the habit of using Copy everyday. After all, with a 24-hour cooldown, it would be a waste not to use it daily.
My gaze then drifted to a golden icon floating near the edge of the System menu:
Universal Reward Token — 1 Remaining
Use to redeem any previous System reward.
I stared at it.
So many options. But only three I cared about.
- Leveling up any skill
- Choosing your next job
- Getting keys to get any skill under a domain
Choosing your next job was the weakest—From what I’d seen, chosen jobs always came in at lower ranks. Back when I chose Lawyer, it arrived at D-Rank. But when left up to chance, I’d been assigned C and even B-Rank jobs. I don’t know why the System does this, in fact it’s not even clear to us if the System is aware of it’s surroundings or simply does things at random.
Which left two strong choices:
1. Instantly level up any skill.
2. Receive a job-specific skill key.
The first one tempted me more.
The main reason being that leveling up skills through use took forever.
Lv. 1 → Lv. 2? A few hours.
Lv. 2 → Lv. 3? A week.
Lv. 3 → Lv. 4? Two weeks.
Lv. 4 → Lv. 5? A month.
Lv. 5 → Lv. 6? Six months.
Lv. 6 → Lv. 7? A full year.
I had the advantage of my Jobmaster title, but that rarely helped with leveling through usage. I mostly had to use things like Rewards, Absorb or Destroy so that I can get skills at a higher level without working hard for it.
In fact, I only had one Lv. 10 skill—Endurance Boost—I had to use a reward for it and it had saved my life more than once.
That kind of energy output, recovery, and stamina was absurd.
Level 10 wasn’t just a milestone. It was a mutation. The gap between level 9 and 10 wasn’t a step—it was a chasm. Like comparing a fish to a dragon.
Observation, Instinct, Psychological Insight—any one of those maxed out could turn me into something bordering supernatural.
Though currently only Observation and Advanced Rescue Mastery were level 9.
But then I remembered the key.
Back during the Cipher case, I got caught. Hands tied. No escape. The only reason I lived was because I used 3 Construction Job Keys to unlock Rope Handling Mastery at a higher level.
I undid the ropes with my bare hands before lunging at him.
Situational flexibility mattered.
And now? With this new case?
This enemy didn’t fight head-on. He infiltrated. Manipulated. Hid in plain sight. I needed unpredictability. A skill key could give me anything. And with seven jobs under my belt—possibly eight, if I took on another soon—the choices of skills felt infinite.
The variety and possibilities that were presented to me felt infinite.
I hadn’t decided what to do by the time the smell of warm spice and eggs drifted through the air.
I blinked and looked up.
Sienna was in the kitchen.
Hair tied back. Sleeves rolled. A quiet smile on her face.
I rose and crossed the room.
"Morning," I said.
She turned slightly, surprised. "You’re up? Before me?"
"I know. Call the news."
She laughed. "You’re usually dead to the world until ten."
"Woke up at seven-thirty. Clock didn’t even glitch."
"Huh." She paused to dice a potato so fast the knife blurred. "Weird."
I leaned on the counter, watching her work. She moved differently. Faster. Cleaner. She peeled and sliced with the kind of grace that made you think it was easy.
Then I realized.
"Wait," I said. "Are you using your Job Inverter right now?"
She tilted her head. "A little, yeah. Flipped it from construction to deconstruction. Makes prep work easy."
"That’s not just easy," I said. "That’s surgical."
She shrugged modestly. "Just figured I’d try something new. Besides, peeling’s just negative construction and with me doing it every morning, it feels less taxing on my body."
I stared a moment longer.
The motion. The precision. The way she disassembled ingredients like puzzle pieces ready to be rearranged.
And then the idea clicked.
"Hey," I said.
She looked up. "Yeah?"
I smiled.
"I’ve got something I want to try with you."
She raised an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."
"It’s not."
She grinned. "That’s exactly what someone says before something is."
I leaned back and crossed my arms.
"Well, I guess we’ll find out."