Two years later.
Beauty was in a deep, groggy sleep when her phone suddenly blared to life.
She threw off the covers and bolted upright in bed.
"Is this Miss Mercedes?
I'm calling from the HR department of Marson Corporation.
We'd like to invite you for an interview tomorrow."
"Oh!
Sure, please send me the company address, and I—" She glanced down at her wristwatch, rubbing her temples before adding, "I'll be there promptly at ten."
The caller remained courteous, rattling off a few more instructions—reminding her to bring her resume and a personal presentation for the interview.
Still bleary-eyed, Beauty ran a hand through her hair and stifled a massive yawn behind her palm.
Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, she shot to her feet, eyes wide.
"Wait—what company did you say you were from?"
The HR rep clearly hadn't expected such a clueless question.
