The moment I stepped into Camille's office, I was hit with a sensory overload.
I'd expected something sleek and refined—maybe a pristine designer's workspace filled with sketchbooks and fabric samples. What I wasn't expecting was an entire damn lab mixed with the personal aesthetic of an heiress.
The walls were lined with machines, ranging from specialized stitching stations to expensive 3D printers. The shelves were filled with bolts of fabric, each carefully labeled, displaying everything from regular cotton to experimental nanoweaves. Mannequins, some wrapped in incomplete designs and others wearing fully realized garments that could have easily been lifted from a Milan runway, stood like mute sentinels.
Beyond that, glass cases held designer accessories, some with tags from luxury brands that I knew cost more than my yearly rent back when I was just a construction worker. There were high-tech lenses, rare dyes, even reinforced stitching kits that looked military-grade. Articles and magazines were pinned to a corkboard on the far side, most featuring Camille herself. The Genius Behind the Mask,The Phantom Designer,A Revolutionary in Disguise.
It seemed like entering a cross between a private dressing room belonging to a billionaire and a state-of-the-art fashion studio.
Camille, utterly unconcerned, was still in my arms in the midst of it all.
She yawned, her eyelids still heavy from sleep, and she looped her arms around my neck without trying to get out of my grasp.
"Mm." Without opening her eyes, she whispered, "Just put me down on the couch."
I took a look around. There was a velvety, luxurious couch that appeared far too expensive to sit on in the corner of the room. However, I was not going to allow her to get away with this.
"Oh, no," I said, adjusting my grip. "You're up now. You're in your workspace. Time to get to work."
She barely moved. "Rey. It's not noon."
"And I don't function before noon."
I let out a sharp laugh. "You just told me to bring you here."
"Yeah. And now you wait." She nuzzled into my shoulder like I was some kind of luxury pillow. "Two hours should be fine."
I froze. "Two hours?"
"You seriously expect me to just stand here holding you for two hours?"
"Problem?" she mumbled, half-asleep again.
No, not really. When I evolved my Endurance Boost to Level 10, I was carrying a whole TV for five hours straight just because I was excited. Compared to that holding Camille was nothing.
But that didn't mean I was going to let her win.
A slow grin spread across my face as an idea struck.
If she refused to wake up on her own... I'd just wake her up my way.
I shifted my hold slightly, tightening my grip on her. Her breath was warm against my neck, her body relaxed and unguarded.
Then, without hesitation, I leaned in—
Her lips were soft, warm, and completely still for the first second. Then they parted slightly in shock. Her entire body stiffened against me, and I felt the exact moment she fully woke up.
Camille pulled back just enough to look at me, her dark eyes wide with disbelief. "Rey."
I smirked. "Morning."
"You—" She blinked rapidly, clearly still processing what just happened. "That was our first kiss."
"And it wasn't romantic at all!"
I chuckled, lowering her feet to the ground. "Then I'll give you a better one later. Promise."
Her lips pursed in a pout. "You better."
I grinned, watching as she crossed her arms, clearly still flustered. But there was no real heat behind her glare.
Camille exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering sleep. "Alright, alright. I'm up." She stretched her arms above her head, her movements fluid and lazy, then turned to her workspace. "Let's get to work."
Once Camille was in work mode, it was like watching a storm gather.
She moved with precision, barely needing to pause as she gathered materials. Her fingers skimmed through fabric samples before plucking a particular bolt from the shelf—smooth, ivory-colored resin with a subtle pearlescent sheen.
Her Material Manipulation skill kicked in immediately, her hands running over the fabric as it softened under her touch. The durability shifted as she worked, transforming the material from a simple textile into something more resilient, more alive.
She moved to one of her machines, feeding the modified material into it. The interface flickered with complex data, adjusting to Camille's precise specifications. While it processed, she turned to a different table, grabbing a set of golden inlays and running her fingertips along them.
Intricate celestial patterns formed beneath her touch. Aesthetic Precision at work. The details were immaculate, the gold perfectly threading itself into the design as if it had always belonged there.
Next came the shape. Camille sculpted the mask with smooth, elongated cheek contours, refining the curves with an almost supernatural accuracy. Every stroke of her hands brought the design closer to perfection. The feather engravings along the sides formed seamlessly, flowing naturally into the structure without making it look bulky.
She wasn't just crafting a mask.
She was creating an identity.
"How's it coming along?" I asked, leaning against the worktable.
She shot me a glance, smirking. "You're impatient for someone who just forced me awake."
I shrugged. "What can I say? I wanna see what you come up with."
She huffed in amusement but kept working.
Her Camouflage Weave and Identity Concealment skills activated next. The golden mesh around the eye openings subtly shifted, ensuring that my biometric data wouldn't be detected by any normal surveillance. Even the Psychological Flair skill came into play, crafting an expression that felt both serene and unsettling—just enough to make people question what they were looking at.
She reached for the final detail at last. The forehead was arced by a thin, golden metal frame that resembled a lovely halo. Even though it wasn't floating, it would appear to be in the correct lighting. Within were tiny reflecting components that captured even the smallest light glints to produce an ethereal radiance.
When she stepped back, the mask was complete.
It was beautiful. Elegant. Otherworldly.
"Try it on," she said, holding it out to me.
I took it slowly, stroking the exquisite craftsmanship with my fingers before putting it over my face. It was snug but not unpleasant, the ideal fit. I could see clearly through the golden mesh, yet my eyes would be hidden from the outside world.
I turned to the mirror, taking in my reflection.
A ghostly, angelic figure stared back.
A slow grin spread beneath the mask. "Looks like Mr. Angel is born."
Camille rolled her eyes but looked pleased nonetheless. "Just don't do anything too holy, alright?"
She snorted, stretching her arms again. "Alright. I need breakfast. You can stand there admiring yourself for as long as you want."
I was left alone with my new persona as she walked out of the office.
I made minor adjustments to the mask while observing how the light reflected off its fine intricacies.
I could work with this.