Camille's fate was that of a common misfortune. That is to say, it was not a misfortune at all. As a child, she had loving parents, a well-endowed education, and lived a life free from abuse. Each, a veritable luxury in its own right, it, therefore, begged the question of what exactly went wrong?

In truth, that is a question without an answer. While susceptible to countless theories and ideas, the end result would be nought but a chimeric solution. One compounded by falsehoods and deceit, there simply was no helping it.

But even so, there was one particular thing. Camille, for all her life, had never been content. Even if she could feel the same temporary joy, sadness, and anger as any other child would, it made little difference.

To her, life was meaningless. Something beyond the extent of her knowledge and understanding, she eventually chose to depend on others. To ask of them what their life's purpose amounted to.

But, in this pursuit of knowledge, Camille gained nothing. Nothing save for bitterness. Bitterness at the sheer ignorance and foolishness displayed, the young girl thought all their reasons to be very dumb.

Whether it be love, money, or simply survival for its own sake, none of it seemed to make any sense. People, in turn, merely suggested that she wait. That the passing of time would do all in its effort to fix and bestow the same pleasures others felt unto her.

And so, Camille waited. Sitting past childhood into her middle school years, she discovered that her feelings did not change. Despite what they promised, Camille could not derive happiness from such things. But, they nonetheless kept at it. Proceeding to make the same promises they always had, it quickly became very repetitive.

From this repetition grew a sense of weariness, from that weariness a sense of irritation, and before she knew it, that irritation had blossomed into hate. Alone as Camille was in this sentiment, she was forced to acclimate to the despair. Day by day passed, and her limit proved lower then she had thought. Unable to bear the burden of such hopelessness, she turned to the only person she could confide in.

And on one fateful day, when her mother had returned, an opportunity presented itself. Bestowing upon her the moment of endearment or revelation that she always wanted, the young Camille asked one simple question.

"Mother, is it okay to hate everyone?"

Her mother, who looked down at her with a smile, then towards the ceiling, replied, "No, it is not." Thus, Camille, who had all been but sure of her damnation, sunk in despair. If her own flesh and blood denounced her so, then who could possibly accept her?

What the young girl did not understand, though, was that her mother had not yet finished.

"Darling, hating everyone is wrong because not everyone is the same". She said, brushing her finger alongside her daughter's cheek. "Although not very common, there are some good people out there, and you wouldn't want to hate them, would you?"

Confused, Camille's eyes widened at her mother's unexpected response. "So as long as I don't hate good people, then it's okay?"

Pausing for just a second, her mother then nodded. "Yes, of course, it is. There's nothing wrong with hating lowlives and garbage, darling, it's natural."

Her immediate thought was how easily her mother understood what she meant. Feeling a warmth tether of empathy between the two, Camille couldn't believe it. Was it possible that her mother had felt the same way?

Wishing to confirm her conjecture, Camille stuttered out a stifled "N-natural?" and continued with a "But everyone else said it's wrong."

"And why do you listen to what these lowlives say?" In saying that, a previously unexplored possibility flourished in Camille's mind.

It was a possibility that they were scum and not the other way around.

How had she been so naive to think otherwise?

These everyday people were just ignorant. And ignorant as they were, they held only the most primitive aspirations and fantasies.

Thus, from that point onward, Camille had fundamentally changed.

Though her path was not without struggle, she nonetheless persisted.

In the face of all the obstacles that lay ahead, nothing in the world, it seemed, could stop her.

But, in the end, that proved to be just a dream.

And all dreams end when the dreamer awakes.

Camille felt nothing. When she finally awoke, it was not because of some conveniently placed ray of sun, or the clamour of a sudden jarring noise. Rather, it was but the routine call of her circadian rhythm that brought Camille to her senses. Without much ado, she looked about with a sour expression. Was she just dreaming a while ago? Camille began to assess that possibility, before accepting that it was the case.

What a weird dream. Pausing for a while, Camille tried to think back to its contents. Still vivid and as fresh as a coat of paint, Camille had no difficulty in recalling what precisely it was that happened. Whether it be the sights, smells, or foreboding sense that someone was observing her, it was all there. Concerned and yet apprehensive as to why, Camille felt that she had missed an integral detail. A clue that would hint at the greater scheme that surrounded her and answer her questions, she tried her hardest to recall what it was. And despite mustering all the intellect possible still failed.

"Welp, screw it. I'll think about it later."

Little did she know, that she wouldn't. Passing over her mind, Camille's hand reached for the phone by her side and checked what time it was.

One PM. Just enough to hit a perfect ten hours of sleep, Camille decided to test her theory from the night prior.

"Status."

PROFILE

(You have 3 unused Stat Points)

NAME: Camille STATUS: ALIVE TITLE: Proud Gamer CLASS: NONE RACE: HUMAN LEVEL: 2 STR: 10 DEF: 10 VIT: 13 DEX: 10 RES: 10 CHA: 10

Of the afternoon, this was definitely the highlight. She was lucky enough to have an automatic HP increase, and still have three points left to spend, what was there not to love? If she was even more fortunate, she would even have additional information on what the stats entailed.

Strength: The physical power of your body, able to be increased through training. You are able to lift your STR x 16 KG directly above your head.

"Damn, that ain't bad at all." As far as level two went, being able to lift 208 KG in a snatch lift did seem like a tempting offer. And to be fair, it wasn't as if she had any need for most of the other stats. RES, being magical resistance, was essentially out of the equation, CHA was useless as far as Camille was concerned, DEF was ok, but she disliked being on the defensive and DEX? Eh, she'll give it a look.

Dexterity: The physical speed of your body, able to be increased through training. You are able to run at your DEX x 1.2 Meter per second.

Alright, damn. Maybe that was better than she had thought it was. At her current speed, she was still, for lack of a better term, really fucking fast. Not superhuman, but enough to compete among top tier athletes? Definitely.

Camille made a scheming smile. A habit of hers, she was even prepared to accompany it with a good dose of laughter. Or at least, she would've if it had not been for a single factor.

"...." With a hand over her mouth, Camille stifled what would have been the sounds of her victorious triumph. Unsure of whether Morgan was still sleeping, she decided that she might as well stay on the safe side. In a subdued but speedy walk, she made her way to the door and knocked. Enough so that any awake soul would hear, but quiet so that anyone still asleep wouldn't. Camille waited for a bit.

"I'm coming in." Ushering one last word of warning, Camille then pushed the door open.

The room was completely dark, but Camille still understood that the room was empty. There was no breathing, no slight shuffle of blankets, or anything else. Whatever the reason for her departure, Camille only now figured. It was the afternoon and a weekday. So, there was really only one answer.

Morgan must've gone to work. That was it. Despite being such an obvious answer, Camille only came upon this realization now.

"Did she really come over on a Tuesday?"

Camille knew Morgan well enough to know how much she loved to go to bed early and get her beauty sleep. So to forsake that just to come to visit her?

Dumbass. There was no reason to go to that extent for her. Much less, be that kind to someone like herself for no reason. And yet, Morgan had gone and done just that, again. Camille clenched her fists. Then, without any particular reason as to why, flipped the light on. Looking through the room, her eyes stumbled upon a yellow post-it note. Aware that something was written on it, Camille came closer to check.

'Sorry I didn't say good morning! I didn't want to wake you up so, I hope you have a lovely day.

Happy that Morgan had left a note for her, and disappointed at the same time, Camille could only sigh. Then, without anything else to do, she sat on her bed. Comfortable as it were, it was the perfect resting place for her to reflect and to think on what to do next. Whether it be her stat point allocation or the opponent she would fight tonight, there were more than a few things to think about.