Camilla looked at the dead body of the assassin. She did not feel any fear. She did not feel any guilt. To her, this man was just a minor inconvenience that had interrupted her rest.
She looked down at his heavy, lifeless body resting on her soft mattress.
"I cannot leave him here," Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was practical and calm. "If the maids find a dead man in my bed tomorrow morning, there will be too much screaming. There will be questions. I do not want to explain how a weak woman snapped a grown man's neck."
She bent down. She grabbed the thick, black fabric of the assassin's shirt right by his shoulders. She pulled hard.
The man was very heavy. He was full of thick muscles. But Camilla knew how to use her own body weight. She pulled him off the bed.
Thump.
The dead body slid off the silk sheets and hit the wooden floor.
