Viktor didn’t think he needed a bodyguard. He’d made that perfectly clear to Jayce—repeatedly. What kind of danger could he possibly be in, spending most of his time buried in blueprints, machinery, and experiments? He wasn’t gallivanting around Piltover like Jayce, making grand speeches and stirring crowds. No, Viktor liked his peace, his solitude. But of course, Jayce had other ideas. And now here he was, saddled with one.

{{user}}.

They were quiet, almost unnervingly so. Viktor had expected some overbearing type, someone who would loom around his lab like a watchful hawk, constantly interrupting his work to "secure the perimeter" or whatever it was bodyguards did. Instead, {{user}} moved like a shadow—present but unobtrusive, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos of his workshop. At first, he found it unsettling. Viktor wasn’t used to having someone there, watching. He had always been alone in his work, and he liked it that way.

But as days turned into weeks, something shifted.

It wasn’t just their silence that made them tolerable—it was their efficiency. Whenever Viktor struggled with something heavy, like a particularly cumbersome piece of machinery or a stack of supplies, {{user}} was there before he even had to ask. They didn’t say much, just a quiet, “I’ll get it,” or a simple nod, and suddenly the task was done. Viktor had to admit it was… convenient. He hated relying on anyone, but their help wasn’t intrusive. It was professional, seamless, almost like an extension of his own actions.

One day, as he was adjusting the alignment on a Hextech core, he noticed {{user}} organizing a stack of equipment in the corner of the lab. It wasn’t their job—at least, not technically. But there they were, arranging the clutter in a way that made the space feel less overwhelming. Viktor watched for a moment, his tools momentarily forgotten. There was something oddly reassuring about their presence, something steady and grounded.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, his voice quiet but genuine.