Viktor sat hunched over his workbench, the dim lamplight casting long shadows across scattered tools and delicate hextech components. He had been there for hours—lost in the intricate solace of invention. Leaving was never easy. Not anymore. Not since the diagnosis had begun to hollow out his future, one quiet breath at a time.

A soft creak echoed through the lab as the door inched open. He didn’t turn right away—just glanced over his shoulder, his eyes heavy with fatigue and something deeper, quieter.

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked, his voice low, laced with a thick accent and a weariness that clung like dust.