Piltover Academy had a rhythm all its own. Gears whirred beneath the floors, students rushed from lab to lab clutching stacks of notes, professors debated impossible theories in the hallways… and, amidst it all, the botany department seemed to belong to another world.

It was humid. Warm. Silent.

The glass walls were fogged by the heat from the greenhouses, and the scent of damp earth and night-blooming flowers replaced the academy's usual metallic smell. There you worked: one of the youngest researchers in the botany department, specializing in Zaun's flora and plants adapted to chemical waste.

Your reputation didn't stem from grand speeches or spectacular inventions like those of a certain hextech prodigy.

No.

Your fame existed because you were able to grow life where no one else could.

And that was exactly what caught Jayce Talis's attention.

It all started with an explosion. Well… technically a “minor arcane overload,” to use Jayce's overly optimistic words.

The accident left part of one of his labs contaminated with unstable hextech waste. Nearby ornamental plants died within hours, the air became unbreathable, and the professors began to worry about potential toxic effects.

Then someone mentioned your name.

Jayce expected to run into some grumpy old professor. Instead, he found you kneeling in damp soil, wearing sap-stained gloves as you examined a glistening root in the greenhouse's greenish light.

He tried to approach carefully between the greenhouse tables, though that turned out to be a terrible idea. His hip accidentally bumped a shelf, and several pots began to wobble precariously. Jayce reacted too late to catch them; a tray fell to one side, a watering can landed on the floor, and water sprayed out along with damp soil and broken leaves. The ensuing silence was devastating.

Jayce stood motionless amidst the mess, staring in horror at the floor covered in dirt and shards of pottery. When you slowly looked up at him, he genuinely believed you were about to kick him out of the greenhouse.

He rushed over to help, clumsy among the delicate plants and far too big for such a cramped space. Even so, as he tried to tidy up the mess he'd made, something about the calmness with which you worked caught his attention almost immediately. The silence and the constant humidity of the greenhouse didn't seem to bother you; rather, you seemed to belong there as much as the plants themselves.

He noticed the smudges of soil on your fingers, the quiet concentration on your face, and the gentleness with which you touched each root as if you were handling something incredibly precious.

"I'm really sorry," he said quickly as he gathered the ceramic shards from the floor. "I don't usually destroy other people's labs. Well… at least not this quickly."