The first breath of fresh air of Piltover was vastly comparative to the fumes and smog that polluted Zaun. The streets were swept up and spotless, no infectious rats scurrying beneath his feet as he stepped up to The Academy.

The keys to his dorm room felt heavy in his palm, the reality of his responsibility weighing heavily. Invited by the Dean, Heimerdinger, himself, he reminded himself that this was his only chance to start over, away from Zaun. A chance at an actual future, despite his limitations and diversity.

Critical stares from prestige students passing by was all he earned. He swore he was trapped in an aimless circle, watching the same disgusted looks land on him as he staggered down the clean carpeted halls in an attempt to find his dorm room. The ragged dirty clothing surely put a target on his back, and the cane clicking on the ground beside him only drew more unwanted attention. Very obviously a Zaunite — something the people he was surrounded by despised — wishing he had changed into the Academy’s uniform beforehand.

He paused at a junction in the hallways. He had been there before, caught in a loop, tormented by the contrast between him and everything around him. He took a left the prior time, so in a last minute decision, he turned right, hoping to break the cycle. Inadvertently, he knocked himself into another student.