Chapter Text
“It’s pointless, really.”
“I would say it’s more pointless to stare at the same equation for almost two weeks now.”
Viktor grunted, eyes briefly darting at his desk. The dust covering it shimmered with the afternoon sun rays, sneaking into the room from a single awning window. It was a constant, gentle reminder that he should clean up his office—now shared with Jayce. Working in such a small space, he knew the task wouldn’t take him more than an hour, but the thought of it elicited more mental anguish than the current confrontation with his colleague. And he had time for neither.
Hopefully, the Academy would take care of such chores once they assigned them to a new office.
When he looked at Jayce again, a cocked eyebrow welcomed him back to the conversation. Before he dared to make another snarky remark, Viktor swiveled in his chair, hunching over his workspace. He grabbed the nearest pen and crossed out yet another string of numbers on his notebook.
Jayce materialized by his side, leaning his hip against the table’s edge, arms crossed. His broad figure blocked most of the incoming light, making the room appear dimmer and deceivably cleaner.
His voice turned lower, gentler. “Look, all I’m saying is we could use a break.”
Viktor sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such a phrase, but they had barely convinced Heimerdinger to authorize their research after their clumsy—and certainly illegal—breakthrough. They still had to present their case to the entire Council, but all the reports and calculations they had written to support it had so far been crumpled and tossed around the room.
“You are aware that those performances aren’t real, right? They are illusions.” Viktor replied, still scribbling. To make his point clearer, he turned to Jayce. “Actual magic is not allowed in Piltover. You and I know that much.”
Despite Viktor’s sharp rationale, it barely cut through Jayce’s indifference.
He frowned just a bit more. “Have you ever been to a magic show before?”
“It’s not magic,” Viktor corrected him. “But yes, I’ve seen… displays of the sort back in the Undercity.”
“And?”
Viktor leaned back in his chair. “Acts full of invisible strings, hidden cards, and games of distractions. Nothing out of this world.”
“Still, they are enjoyable.”
“Being fooled by cheap tricks sounds like something only children would enjoy.”
Jayce’s lips turned into a pout, slowing down his breathing. His expression was the finest depiction of disappointment, but with an innocent aura surrounding it, like he had dropped his ice cream cone before having the first bite. His frown disappeared, and his gaze softened, appealing to Viktor’s empathy.
Viktor clenched his jaw, guilt weighing down on his chest. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the invitation. It’s only…” He stared at the multiple, almost indistinguishable blots of ink, angry crosses, and failed calculations on the notebook. “I can’t get this thing out of my head.”
“I know. And, sure, we are on a tight schedule, but...” Jayce’s eyes nervously darted at the floor. He swayed his leg back and forth, like kicking invisible stones in his way. “Yeah, I used to love those shows back when I was a kid, so…” He cut himself off and, as he straightened his back, Viktor could see him turning back into an adult. “But I understand if you don’t want to come.”
Viktor tapped his fingers on the desk. He hadn’t known Jayce for long, but barely a few hours after their first meeting, their connection had been instant. And before he had realized it, they had already spent countless nights working together, pursuing not his but their Hextech dream. A subtle wording Viktor hadn’t failed to notice and cherish.
It was a recent scientific partnership, yes, but also a camaraderie, an understanding he felt the need to honor and study just as much as the numbers populating their notes.
“Do you have tickets?” Viktor asked.
Jayce’s pursed lips extended into a grin. From a nearby box, he retrieved two silver, rectangular tickets. Viktor squinted his eyes at their colorful, glossy coating, glittering in that forgotten, tiny office he had secluded himself in for the past weeks.
He closed the notebook and grabbed his cane.
When he located their seats, Viktor folded the ticket and placed it inside his vest’s pocket. Jayce had mentioned something about getting a drink, but Viktor had simply hummed and made his way through the crowd until he had reached the front row—of course Jayce had chosen the front row.
He plopped himself on the velvety but battered seat and arranged the cane by his side. He was so close to the stage that, even without the dim footlights, he could’ve still counted the scratches on the apron’s surface and the red curtain’s loose threads.
An ambient piano and trumpet melody reverberated in the theatre. Despite its simplicity, the growing murmur of the audience’s chattering gave it a sense of ever-changing complexity, producing a certain discomfort in Viktor. He didn’t mind the crowd so much but rather their gullibility and hypocrisy. How was such a show so packed?
Everyone in Piltover rejected magic, to the point of almost vanishing Jayce for attempting to recreate it. Yet there was no empty seat in sight, and everyone had dressed finely for the occasion. Even the kid to his right, dangling his legs in the air while munching some popcorn, had put a generous amount of fixing gel in his blond hair.
“Mom said I could see the show if I passed my Maths exam,” the boy suddenly said. Viktor turned to him, only to find himself staring back at the same innocent, olive eyes he had occasionally seen on Jayce. “I passed, so now I won’t study Maths anymore.”
The boy's giggling quieted Viktor's attempt at scolding him. He had such a broad smile at the prospect of a show filled with deception that Viktor didn’t know whether to reject it in the name of scientific rigor or to admire its innocence.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from choosing.
Viktor turned around and found Jayce sitting to his left.
“Oddly enough, they didn’t sell sweet milk,” he said with a smirk. Viktor scrunched his nose. “Anyway, are you excited?”
Viktor swayed his head. Excited was one way to put it. Sure, he had agreed to attend the show more for Jayce’s sake than his, but he couldn’t deny that the same curiosity and thirst for knowledge that had trapped him in that lab for two weeks wasn't accompanying him right now as well. The curtain hadn’t been lifted, but his mind was already devising how to uncover its secrets and, of course, its illusions.
“I suppose I am, yes.”
When the last word left his lips, all lights went down. Jayce let out a gasp and twitched on his seat, turning to the stage with unprecedented resolution. Viktor mimicked his motion but with caution and skepticism instead.
The ambient music faded away, and an expectant stillness loomed over the audience. Viktor straightened his back, rejecting it. Still, the thrill and fear of the unknown rushed in his blood, threatening the fortress of rationale in his mind.
A sudden, cold breeze traveled the area, sending a shiver down his spine. The ends of the curtain swayed with the airflow, revealing just a bit more of the scene floor but not enough for him to see beyond it. It was then that Viktor realized how deep his fingernails were digging into the fabric of the armchairs.
A mechanical sound emerged. Viktor stretched his neck. The curtain lifted with a calculated slowness, speeding his heartbeat.
But the revelation was nothing more than an empty stage and a silver wall at its end. Viktor leaned back in his seat, releasing his grip on the armchair with a sigh.
Once again, as if his breaths directed the rhythm of the show, a hanging spotlight turned on, illuminating the center of the stage. What it exposed, however, wasn’t the trickster Viktor had expected.
It was a white rabbit.
Viktor bent his neck to the side, hoping to see in Jayce’s face the same unamused confusion he felt, only to find his mouth wide open, his gaze fixed on the animal. Viktor turned to the kid instead, and, like a miniature version of his colleague, he had the same fascinated expression, confirming Viktor’s painful suspicion that he was sandwiched between two people completely entranced by the sight of a rabbit on a stage.
Inadvertently, Viktor scoffed, and yet again, something changed.
The rabbit grew larger and larger until it was almost five times its size, an act that elicited gasps and quiet screeches in the audience. The rabbit hopped around, not leaving the stage but getting close enough to the apron to trick everyone into thinking it would. Even Viktor sensed the menace in its unpredictability, although it wasn’t enough to startle him. Yet.
The rabbit slowed down his motions, and as it did, the color of its fur changed; blue, yellow, red, over and over again. The audience panted with every switch. Viktor didn’t know whether to pity or commend such control over the crowd.
A stream of mist appeared at each side of the stage, swirling at the center, thickening and enveloping the rabbit. A mere fraction of the smoke got to the front row, but it was still enough to cloud Viktor’s vision. He waved his hand, attempting to dissipate it. Somehow, that only made his sight even blurrier, and his nose stuffier.
Barely a few seconds later, the mist covered the stage in its entirety like another impenetrable silver wall, and the rabbit’s silhouette became indistinguishable.
The cloud remained unnaturally static, and a deafening silence settled on the theatre. Viktor looked over his shoulder, hoping to see that not everyone around him was stupidly captivated by a column of smoke.
Tap
Viktor leaned forward, squinting his eyes at the cloud.
Tap.
The shiny, black tip of a shoe emerged, breaking through the mist with easiness and elegance. The sound of each footstep echoed in every corner of the theater, but not as strong as Viktor’s heartbeat did in his head.
Tap.
Tap.
A figure arose from the cloud, mist swirling at the cuff of its black, wide pants. The matching jacket overlaid a simple, button-up white shirt. A brooch hidden in the ruffles of the shirt’s neckline secured a long, golden-lined cloak and cowl. The performer's white-gloved hands held a tall, black hat in front of their head, concealing their face—no skin to be seen, no hint of identity.
Part of Viktor’s joy as a scientist was making discoveries of his own. But in his mind, he now begged the stranger to toss that hat, to reveal what he couldn’t see, let alone understand. When had his curiosity turned so frustrating?
As if they were reading his mind, they threw the hat away, but that only exposed another disguise to their face: a ceramic mask, parted vertically—one half painted in white, the other one in black. Two elegant, almond-shaped holes made room for the Illusionist’s eyes—which, despite his closeness, Viktor still couldn’t see—with golden patterns decorating their outlines. There was no opening for the mouth, just a protuberance in the shape of lips, also painted golden.
Viktor had seen many fascinating things in his life: autonomous machines, complex chemical compounds, and even a force powerful enough to bend time and space. But none had ever looked so otherwordly as the figure on that stage.
The Illusionist stood still. Despite awaiting their actions and trickery just a few minutes before, Viktor now hoped that they didn’t dare to take another step. His curiosity turned into anxiety, urging him to study that stranger, to find out what hid behind that cloak and mask.
Small, silver-shiny papers fell and glided from the ceiling, like tiny stars detached from the sky, surrounding the Illusionist as the smoke behind them dissipated.
They bowed to the public, who received them with thunderous applause.
A full orchestra began, symphonies of trumpets, saxophones, and xylophones reverberating in the theater as the Illusionist danced around the stage, spinning and performing simple tricks. They drew infinite loops of colorful fabrics tied with one another, multiplied coins, and manipulated card decks. Viktor had seen such acts before, yes, but the speed and mastery of the Illusionist’s prevented his mind from stopping for one second to analyze and consider a proper explanation. Whenever it felt like the performance would slow down, more complex tricks began, one after the other.
The Illusionist had assembled and escaped from intricate shackles, snapped its fingers into creating flames around its hands, and even summoned more rabbits of various colors and shapes, only to make them disappear with a sway of their cape. At some point, they had brought on stage a set of spheres glowing with an unnatural, mysterious blue light. Lifting their arms, the Illusionist had commanded the spheres to float around, hovering in an invisible current that they directed at their will with just the motion of their graceful, gloved hands.
No matter how hard he had tried to remember every detail, Viktor still struggled to find the fitting words or gestures to describe what he was seeing. Every action was filled with passion and mystery, intensified by the fast-paced music—he, for once, didn’t care about its loudness, enthralled with the way it made its heart thump with every change of beat.
The Illusionist had not once interacted with the public, yet Viktor felt like every trick and move had been designed for him, testing the limits of his logic and understanding, rushing him into coming up with questions that the performance never answered.
With a simple gesture, the Illusionist ordered the floating spheres to drop back to the ground, yet they didn’t break or bounce when they landed. Viktor blinked several times, clearing his vision and hopefully the confusion in his mind. But as he did, he found the Illusionist standing on the edge of the apron, just mere feet away from him. The spheres, on stage just a second ago, were now gone.
The Illusionist bowed, and the audience replied with cheers and applause. Once the whistles died out, they straightened their back and tilted their chin. The torch above them accentuated the golden embellishment of the mask but without shining any more light on their identity.
The Illusionist snapped their fingers and, in the blink of an eye, disappeared.
Even Viktor gasped at the act, but the sound got buried under the hundreds of other huffs filling the theater. He turned to Jayce, but he stared back at him with the same confusion Viktor was too shy and proud to display.
All stage lights went down, and the ones in the audience turned on instead. Their rays were dimmer, but the roaring clapping from the audience made them feel brighter.
The curtain dropped, but Viktor’s gaze stayed on the floor and the wrinkled confetti scattered over it. Thin streams of mist still enveloped the sides of the apron, refusing to fade, merging their artificial scent with the organic, wooden one of the theatre. Everyone around him stood up, chattering while they queued for the exit.
He remained seated, waiting for his heartbeat and mind to stop spinning.
By the time he felt sane enough to stand up, only Jayce was still in there, leaning against the doorway.
“So, did you enjoy it?”
Without stopping his walk, Viktor lifted his gaze off the pavement and looked at Jayce.
Viktor had been through Piltover’s main shopping street many times, but never in the dead of the night without any noisy crowds and vendors. All the stores, so lively, varied, and colorful during the day, now had their tents folded and their displays covered. Few of them still had some lights around their showcases, but their glow went unnoticed under the moonlight and the orange lamppost on each side of the road.
Viktor tilted his chin, a chill breeze brushing his cheeks. He reminded himself to take that way home more often, to relish that nightly silence. Yet, most of the times he stayed up that late, he had always found it easier to remain in the Academy until the next break of dawn. He felt just as calm and quiet in his office, yes, but certainly lonelier.
Noticing Jayce’s anticipation for his answer, he cleared his throat. “Yes, it was quite… visually striking.”
“Definitely,” replied Jayce, a satisfied smile appearing with ease. “I’ve been to many magic shows before, but this one was truly something else. That magician knows what they are doing.”
“Illusionist.”
“Hm?”
“I believe such performers aren’t even legally allowed to call themselves magicians . Not in Piltover, at least.”
Jayce scoffed. “Are you an Enforcer now or what?”
“Just a practical man,” said Viktor, shrugging. “But yes, the illusions were quite advanced. I keep wondering about the one with the color-changing rabbits.”
“Oh right! That one was so good, but I loved the one with the floating balls. It reminded me of our little… eh, experiment with the stones.”
“Well, I doubt they have discovered Hextech before us.” Viktor stared at the pavement again, careful not to stick his cane in-between the tiles as he walked. “It must’ve been mechanized and rehearsed beforehand, perhaps they used some type of strong and transparent wire… But I wonder about the glow. There were no cables or power sources inside the spheres, so—”
Jayce halted his walk. Viktor mimicked him.
“Seriously, Viktor?”
“What?” he replied with a snort. Jayce frowned. “Don’t you want to know how it works?”
“Not really, no.” He swayed his head, pouting like when he ran calculations in his head. “Sure, it’s interesting to think about it, but I guess the tricks would lose their charm if they were easy to explain.”
“But there is an explanation.”
“Probably, yeah.” Jayce approached Viktor and placed a hand on his shoulder. “In any case, it was fun, and that’s what matters, I think.”
Viktor opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Jayce gently spun him around, inviting him to keep walking.
Jayce spent the rest of the way rambling about possible solutions to their setbacks, future presentations, and a flood of use-cases for Hextech. While Viktor gladly engaged in such conversations, he found himself too aloof to do so, as if he had left his mind—and perhaps a bit more—in that theatre.
When they reached the end of the street, Viktor stopped in his tracks. Jayce turned to him with a questioning hum.
“I think I’m going back,” Viktor said, squinting his eyes at the distant, golden spires of the Science building.
“To… the Academy?”
“Yes.” Viktor lowered his head and voice. “There’s something I must revise.”
“And you can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“It’s alright,” he smiled, and Jayce sighed. “You know I work better at night anyway.”
“Hah, sure. As if I hadn’t found you drooling over your notes twice already.”
Viktor clicked his tongue. “Three times is a charm.”
“Whatever you say, Viktor,” Jayce laughed. “Have a good one, then. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Yes. And thank you for the invitation. It was very… inspiring.”
“Glad to hear that,” he replied with a smile, waving his hand. “See you tomorrow.”
Viktor imitated the gesture and observed Jayce walk away until its silhouette disappeared on the horizon.
Not long after, he reached the Academy, climbed the stairs to his office, opened the door, and sat at the desk.
Viktor removed the notebook with his calculations and grabbed a set of blank papers.