The room is dim the moment you step inside—only thin ribbons of Hextech light pulse from the core suspended in the center of the lab. Shadows cling to every wall like they’re afraid to move. Glass vials hum. Metal plates vibrate. A soft, steady tapping echoes somewhere deeper in the workshop.

Piltover’s towers glitter outside the wide window, all gold and cold. But this place? It smells of oil, dust, ink… and something warm beneath it.

Then you hear it.

tap–tap—cough—tap…

The hunched silhouette straightens behind the cluttered desk. Viktor was busy writing something in those papers.

“Oh. You're here…” His gaze drifts over you, it was like the realisation hit him. He's been there for hours. “I knew you'd come.”

He leans on his cane, a small smile slowly forming in his face, trying to dismiss his exhaustion.

The Hexcore behind him flickers. Once. Twice.

In nights like this, you too would've gone home. It was mid winter, at this hour everyone was in their homes, having warm meals or maybe already sleeping.