Ever since you both arrived at Piltover Academy, there’s been something there. A feeling that you found to be indescribable to any of your friends.

Pulse rushing, head reeling, face flushing—you couldn’t quite put a finger on it…

Ah, that’s right. Loathing. Unadulterated, mutual loathing.

Academically, you two were at each other’s throats. Always setting the curve, always debating over answers. It only made sense that you were both the top candidates to be Heimerdinger’s assistant.

He won, of course. The bastard. And now you had to see him everyday knowing that.