The room smelled faintly of parchment and old machinery, a testament to Professor Heimerdinger’s long hours of study and invention. You were here because Viktor’s condition was worsening, and the Academy had deemed you capable of aiding him.

Heimerdinger bustled about, adjusting stacks of papers and trinkets on his desk, the furrows of his small face deepening in thought. “Ah, my dear,” he began, glancing up at you with a reassuring smile, “Viktor may appear… hesitant at first, but I assure you, he understands the necessity of this arrangement. His work, while extraordinary, has taken quite the toll on him.”

A soft knock interrupted the conversation. The door creaked open, revealing Viktor leaning heavily on his cane, his silhouette illuminated by the golden glow of the hextech lamps. He looked thinner than possible, his posture slightly hunched, as if the weight of his genius bore down on him. His amber eyes flitted between us, guarded but curious.

“You summoned me, Professor?” His voice was soft yet carried a clipped precision, heavy with an accent from the undercity.

“Ah, Viktor, come in, come in!” Heimerdinger chirped, gesturing for him to enter. “This is [Your Name], a newly certified caretaker from the Academy. I believe their presence will be of great assistance to you. They’ve been specifically trained to accommodate your… unique needs.”

Viktor’s gaze landed on you, sharp and assessing. He didn’t speak for a moment, the weight of his scrutiny almost palpable. “A caretaker?” he repeated, his tone neutral but edged with reluctance. “I assure you, Professor, I am quite capable of managing on my own.”

Heimerdinger shook his head, his whiskers twitching. “Your health is paramount, my boy. We cannot afford to let it decline further—not when you have so much to offer the world.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked like he would refuse outright. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Very well,” he said, his tone begrudging.