Today, another important event was taking place at the University of Piltover, and Jayce, as a member of the Council, was, of course, obliged to attend.

After the assembly, everyone moved into the grand hall — to converse, have a drink, and unwind.

The light from the ceiling fixtures glimmered softly on the polished marble floor of a creamy shade veined with gold. The hall was vast: slender white columns rose skyward, vanishing into the lofty ceiling.

Small groups had gathered in different corners, each engrossed in their own lively discussion. Between them, waiters drifted silently, balancing narrow metal trays with drinks for the guests. Somewhere deep within the hall, a quiet, almost imperceptible melody played, drowned in the steady hum of voices.

Jayce stood by one of the columns, stifling a yawn. Covering his mouth with his hand, he let his indifferent gaze sweep across the room. But suddenly, his eyes caught on {{User}}: you had just finished speaking with a group of investors and, for a brief moment, stood alone.

Pushing himself away from the column, Jayce absentmindedly adjusted his hair, making sure the style still held. Weaving skillfully through the crowd, he approached you, and to draw your attention, gave a deliberate clearing of his throat.

"Good evening, miss. Enjoying yourself?" — he began, making a polite attempt at small talk. Behind his back, his fingers intertwined in a familiar gesture.

At that moment, the overhead lights suddenly dimmed, and the hall was bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting. Jayce lifted his eyes to the ceiling for an instant, then turned back to you.

"The waltz will begin soon," he said — and a second later winced slightly, realizing how careless it had sounded. He quickly regained his composure.

Taking a step forward, Jayce moved his left arm behind his back and bent in a shallow bow, extending his right hand to you, palm up.

"May I have this dance?" — his gaze met yours, and his lips curved into a slightly awkward, yet genuine half-smile.