The Clockwork Heart (ViktorxOC)

Chapter 1: The Academy of Progress

The air at Piltover's Academy of Progress was as crisp and bright as the city itself, glittering with the promise of future greatness. Khione Verena of House Devika stood at the threshold of her dormitory, the hum of voices from other students buzzing distantly in her ears. Her gaze swept over the hall—students bustling in, luggage floating behind them on magnetic trolleys, the occasional shimmer of family sigils on the breast of a jacket. But none of it truly registered. It was all noise, a chaotic tapestry of faces that she had no real interest in.

Let them scramble, she thought coolly, her fingers lightly brushing the deep red fabric of her gown, perfectly tailored and embroidered with fine gold accents. They'll never be more than second-rate copies.

For Khione, this place—the academy, the pinnacle of Piltover's education—was not just a school. It was a stage, one where she was both actress and audience, eternally watched, eternally performing. And, as ever, she would be perfect.

She glided forward, each step practiced, every movement precise. Her hair, a silvery cascade pinned with rubies, shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Eyes followed her—teachers, students, staff alike. She could feel their gazes. It had been like this her entire life. To be a Devika was to be known, to be respected, and most of all, to be envied.

Her heels clicked softly on the marble floors as she moved through the halls, students parting like water around her, some bowing their heads slightly in recognition. She gave no one more than a passing glance. In her mind, she catalogued everything—who had greeted her, who hadn't, who had dared to look her in the eye. They should know better by now, she mused, lips curving into a subtle smile.

She passed a group of first-year students huddled near the announcement board. Their hushed whispers and awkward stares barely registered to her, but one of them—a lanky girl with a too-large uniform and ink-stained fingers—muttered something that caught Khione's attention.

"She's a Devika, right? The Devika?"

Khione's smile widened imperceptibly. Yes, that's right, she thought, a sense of satisfaction blooming in her chest. The Devika.

It was important they remembered that. Her name carried weight, and she intended to use it.

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The academy had arranged for students to be paired up in dormitory rooms, small but elegantly furnished, a testament to Piltover's wealth and progress. Each room was designed for efficiency—two desks, two beds, two shelves—but for Khione, such things were irrelevant. She had never intended to share her space.

Of course, as a Devika, her name alone had ensured she wouldn't be subject to the usual rules. While others moved into their shared dormitories, Khione had been granted a private room of her own. It wasn't large or particularly luxurious, but it came with one unique perk: a small adjoining room just big enough for a desk, a massive pinboard, and enough space for her to set up a makeshift lab. A place for her personal research.

It wasn't much, but it was something she could make her own. A quiet space where she could experiment without the watchful eyes of her peers.

Her private quarters were small compared to the grandeur she was used to, but she found a certain satisfaction in its simplicity. Everything was in its place, perfectly arranged and spotless. She ran her fingers along the edge of her desk, noting the smooth, cool surface beneath her fingertips. Perfect, as always.

The small laboratory room was bare for now, with just a desk and the large pinboard that covered one wall. She could already see it filled with sketches, diagrams, and notes in the weeks to come. It would be her sanctuary, her escape from the pressures of being a Devika.