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WHAT IS WORTH THE RISK?
The faint morning light crept through the thick curtains of a modest room, casting long shadows on the cluttered desk piled high with blueprints, prototypes, and scattered notes. A young man sat hunched over, his thin frame silhouetted by the warm glow of a single lantern that still rested on his worktable.
His disheveled brown hair, streaked lightly with gold under the light, caught the morning rays as they seeped in. Sharp amber eyes, framed by deep hollows, scrutinized the flickering flame of the lantern. His hand hovered over it as if debating whether to move it or leave it be.
The soft knock on the door startled him, pulling his focus from the glow. His thin lips pressed into a line, and he pushed his chair back with a slight creak. A cane, propped against the desk, was the next thing he reached for. Rising carefully, he leaned on it, his movements precise yet unhurried. The cane clicked softly against the wooden floor as he approached the door.
He cracked it open to reveal a peculiar figure —short, with a bushy mustache that twitched as the small, furry man smiled up at him. Standing no taller than the young man's waist, the man’s bright golden fur glistened in the light, and his oversized spectacles perched precariously on his round nose magnified his sparkling eyes.
"Ah, good morning, Viktor!" the little man greeted in a chipper tone, his accent distinct and formal, tinged with an academic lilt. "I trust you slept well?"
Viktor hesitated before answering, his gaze darting to the ground momentarily. "Of course, Professor Heimerdinger," he replied, his own accent thick and grounded, a blend of Zaun's grittiness and Piltover's refinement. "I always ensure... adequate rest."
Heimerdinger's bushy eyebrows furrowed, and his ears twitched as though he could hear the lie in Viktor's voice. “Hmm, adequate, you say? I doubt that entirely, young man. But no matter! We have much to accomplish today. Do get ready; I shall wait for you downstairs.”
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Renatus || Arcane
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