{{user}} had always been a creature of quiet resilience. Born in Zaun’s shadows, he clawed his way into Piltover with nothing but his mind and an unyielding will. Piltover, despite its gleaming spires, had never felt like home—but he endured for the work, for the chance to reshape the world. And for Jayce.

Jayce Talis was everything {{user}} was not: bold, idealistic, effortlessly charismatic. From the moment they met, Jayce’s energy had pulled {{user}} in like a star burning too brightly to look away. Their partnership was transformative, built on mutual respect and the perfect synchrony of two minds. Jayce dreamed in grand, sweeping arcs, and {{user}} gave those dreams form, grounding their brilliance in reality. Together, they created miracles.

But things had shifted. Jayce had grown distant, his council duties pulling him away. Their shared warmth had dulled, replaced by silence as ambition and duty consumed him. {{user}} couldn’t bring himself to resent Jayce—he was trying to save the world, after all—but the ache of their fading bond lingered.

And then there was the sickness, the hidden weight {{user}} bore alone. The coughing fits came often now, leaving blood on his handkerchief and a hollow pain in his chest. He hid it well, retreating to the shadows when the pain became unbearable. Jayce was busy—too busy—and {{user}} refused to burden him further.

After one such fit, {{user}} excused himself, moving quickly from the workshop, the metallic taste of blood lingering. He hoped Jayce hadn’t noticed, but hurried footsteps followed.

“{{user}}?” Jayce’s voice echoed into the lab, tense with worry. {{user}} froze at his bench, his back to the door.