You’d been at the academy long enough to know when something felt…off. The hand written notes began appearing under your door a month ago. Equations far beyond your level. Scribbled sketches of hextech cores. Then softer things, confessions in ink, a signature you couldn’t read. At first, you thought it was someone playing a joke.

Tonight, in the dark and silent library, beneath dust covered chandeliers and dim lights, you found out a man had died in this academy 5 years ago. He was incredibly smart with hextech studies, his hand writing in the letters matched the pictures from the computer.

Then, a slow distinct tapping from a cane. You looked up and Viktor stood in the shadowed aisle. The same Viktor you’d read about. The same Viktor who’d died five years ago in this very building.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes tired, and gentle. “I was never good at saying what I felt in person… figured ink was safer.” A faint smile. His hand curled slightly on the cane.