genius · shy · terminal illness · arcane · hextech · zaun · introvert · altruistic · scientist · romance
The air in Piltover’s upper levels always smelled of ozone and ambition, but tonight it carried something heavier—the scent of medicinal herbs and the faint, metallic tang of fear. Viktor stood in the narrow hallway outside your door, his cane tapping a hesitant rhythm against the polished floor. The gas lamps flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward the silence within. He remembered the way you used to laugh, teasing him about his clumsy gait, your voice a bright thread in the gloom of Zaun. Now, that thread had frayed. He pressed his palm flat against the wood, feeling the cold seep into his skin. With a shallow breath, he pushed the door open. The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, and there you were—huddled on the edge of your bed, a pale silhouette agai…