Morning light filtered thinly through the gaps in the curtains. A small apartment in Piltover's eastern Academic District. The room was quiet, as if last night's chaos had been nothing but a dream. On the desk lay scattered blueprints of the device destroyed in the explosion, along with hastily scribbled notes. The room's occupant lay motionless on the bed. Victor. No—she was Victor now. Those sharp gray eyes of a scientist were fixed on the ceiling. Her shoulder-length black hair spread across the pillow, and her slender, long fingers clutched the sheets tightly. "[whispers] …I can't roll over." She knew exactly why. The weight on her chest. She'd been too exhausted to notice last night, but apparently, lying on her side meant this new body part pulled under its own weight, creating a strange, oppressive pressure. (…This is an ergonomic design failure.) Victor considered this with a perfectly straight face, then snapped back to reality. (What am I even thinking about?) She sat up. The collar of her oversized shirt nearly slipped off her shoulder. She hurriedly pressed it down with her hand. Her reflection in the mirror caught the corner of her eye. Still a girl. Everything had changed yesterday, after Jayce's device exploded and bathed her in that rainbow light—Shiftlight. Caitlyn had said roughly 3,200 citizens had undergone gender reversal. (I need to collect data.) Victor picked up the notebook by her pillow. *Subject V: On the Relationship Between Sleeping Posture and Upper Body Mass.* Words she'd scrawled with trembling hands last night. (Right. First, I need to get dressed.) She stood and opened the bundle of clothes Caitlyn had urgently arranged yesterday. Inside: a simple white blouse, practical-looking slacks. And—a brassiere. Victor held the scrap of fabric up to eye level and stared at it in silence for a moment. "[serious] Problem: The method for fastening the rear-hook type is unknown. Insufficient data." She quickly jotted a note. *On the Necessity of Ergonomic Underwear Design: Rear hooks likely ignore the range of joint motion. Recommend designing a front-closure prototype.* There. Written. "[whispers] …The theory is flawless. Now only the practical application remains." Brassiere in hand, Victor took a deep breath. First, arms through the straps. Done. Pull the shoulder straps up. Also done. The problem was those tiny metal clasps that fastened behind her back. She reached around behind her. "Ngh…" Her fingers couldn't reach. No—they *could* reach, but fastening three tiny hooks simultaneously in a position she couldn't see was a problem on par with the hardest questions in physics. The moment she secured one side, the other came undone. "[frustrated] Gh…" Another attempt. This time her elbow hit the wall. *THUD!* "[scared] O-ow…" Tears welling in her eyes, she added to her notes: *Issue #2: Risk of collision with surrounding environment during wear. A minimum distance of 50 centimeters from the wall is required.* (I am a scientist. The man who designed a device capable of freely rearranging molecular structures. And yet—) One more try. "Damn it, you—!" After several minutes of struggle. Drenched in sweat, she finally heard the hooks click into place. "[surprised] I-I did it…!" She stood before the mirror. Catching her breath, she looked at herself. Properly worn. Though the straps were a little twisted. (To think a single brassiere could be this exhausting.) Victor added one final line to her notes. *Conclusion: Current female undergarments are weapons that defy all ergonomic principles. Urgent technological innovation required. Assigned to: Me.* That was when it happened. *Knock, knock, knock.* "Vic—! I'm here to pick you up!" Victor's body jolted at the cheerful voice from beyond the door. Jayce. "[scared] W-wait a moment! I'm not ready yet—" She frantically grabbed the blouse. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to fasten the buttons. The sensation in her fingers was different from usual. Her slender, long fingers struggled to grip the tiny buttons properly. "[worried] What's wrong?! Are you okay?!" Jayce's voice rose with concern. "[scared] I-I'm not okay! Just wait!" "O-okay! Want me to help?!" After those words, there was a palpable sense from the hallway that Jayce had clamped a hand over his mouth and turned bright red. He'd apparently realized what he'd just offered. "[whispers] …Th-that came out wrong! I didn't mean it like that!" *Thump.* The sound of something hitting the wall. Probably Jayce's head. (What is that idiot doing?) Victor finished buttoning the blouse, her face bright red. Her heart was pounding. Surely from the earlier struggle. It had to be. --- A short while later, Victor, who had finally emerged from her room, and Jayce, who was pressing his forehead against the wall in a pit of self-loathing, headed toward the Enforcer Headquarters in an awkward silence. A four-story stone building. The structure facing Order Avenue usually carried an air of dignified authority. But not today. "[laughing] Pfft… heheh…" "I told you to stop laughing!" A rough, bellowing shout echoed through the entrance hall. Yet the source of that voice was a bizarre sight: a hulking, muscle-bound giant of a man standing imposingly in an Enforcer uniform that was straining at the seams. Caitlyn Kiramman. Formerly the young lady of House Kiramman, an elite Enforcer. Her navy hair was now short and unkempt, and her clear blue eyes burned with fury. But her shoulders were nearly twice as wide as before, her arms like logs. "[angry] This is a serious investigation! Determining the cause of the Shiftlight is an urgent matter! This is no time for laughter!" The gap between her rough "This is" and her refined "no time for laughter" made the newbie Enforcer burst out laughing despite himself. Even the veteran Enforcers' shoulders were shaking. "[sad] Why, you—" Just as Caitlyn clenched her fist— "[excited] You're a hundred times cooler than before!" Vi appeared, her shockingly pink short hair swaying. Her defiant gray eyes looked up at Caitlyn, laughing. "Those abs—what's the deal? Let me touch 'em!" "[embarrassed] Wh-what are you saying!" Caitlyn turned bright red and stumbled backward. Her unfamiliar, massive body slammed into the reception counter with a *thud*. A stack of papers fluttered to the floor. "[laughing] Bwahaha! Look at that, Victor! That's the ever-serious Caitlyn!" Jayce burst out laughing. Victor couldn't help the slight smile tugging at her lips either. The sight of a muscular giant flustered and using a noble lady's speech patterns was, admittedly, amusing. But— (Vi… is the only one who hasn't changed.) Victor gazed at Vi's profile as she clapped Caitlyn on the shoulder, laughing. "[gentle] Come on, pull yourself together. You're the top Enforcer, right?" "[sad] Honestly, Vi… you're always like this…" "[serious] I'm glad you're my partner." Those words seemed to melt a little of Caitlyn's anger. But Victor understood. Behind Vi's cheerfulness, something was there. She alone had been unaffected by the Shiftlight. No one knew why. (She must feel anxious, like she's been left out.) Victor pulled out her notebook. *Subject Vi: Unaffected by Shiftlight. Cause unknown. Psychological impact requires observation.* --- Just then, a letter was delivered. "[serious] An emergency summons from the Council." The smile vanished from Caitlyn's face. --- Aurum Hall. The council chamber rising at the heart of Piltover, its white marble and brass dome gleaming. The four of them stepped into the high-ceilinged chamber. A few citizens sat in the gallery, and in the far corner, a thin man in a black suit. "[cold] Jayce Talis." A white-haired councilor dropped the cold words from his elevated seat. "[serious] You stand accused of violating the Gemstone Act. An unauthorized Hextech experiment has caused harm to approximately 3,200 citizens. This responsibility is grave." Jayce's face grew pale. "[sad] …It's all my fault." Jayce hung his head. Seeing that, a sharp pain shot through Victor's chest. (No. Don't carry this alone.) Before she knew it, Victor was on her feet. "[serious] I conducted that experiment jointly with him." A murmur rippled through the chamber. A slender, petite girl had made the declaration in a clear, dignified voice. "[surprised] Wh-what are you—" "[serious] The responsibility is mine as well." Victor looked straight into Jayce's eyes. Her heart was pounding, faster than before. But now wasn't the time to worry about that. Jayce's expression shifted from surprise to something like suppressed pain. (*I want to say thank you, but I can't. Because of me, now you're…*) It was as if she could hear his inner voice. At that moment, Caitlyn drew a sharp breath. The corner of the gallery. The man in black wore an eerie smile. On his cuff gleamed the emblem of a distorted chemical flask—the sigil of the Shimmer Syndicate. As Victor and the others exited, the man whispered in passing. "[whispers] My condolences." Victor felt a cold chill run down her spine. --- Evening. Victor's apartment was covered in stacks of data logs brought back from the lab. Rows of barely legible numbers recovered from the wreckage of the Variant Core. Pen in hand, Victor examined each line. (First gem. Resonance frequency within normal range.) (Second gem, no issues.) And then—the third gem. "[surprised] …What is this?" Her pen stopped. The numbers had been altered. And very cleverly, at that. At a glance, they appeared normal, but it was a subtle manipulation, three digits past the decimal point—something only a co-designer like Victor would notice. "[scared] Someone… did this deliberately?" The accident wasn't a simple mistake. (I have to tell Jayce.) She looked up. And then— Jayce's face was right there. "[embarrassed] Ah…" "[embarrassed] Uh…" They both gasped simultaneously and froze. Jayce had somehow ended up standing right beside her. He'd apparently been trying to peer at the data. Their faces were unbelievably close. The air in the room changed. Victor's heart began to pound, loud and fast. Just moments ago, she'd been thinking about the data, but now she could think of nothing but those golden-brown eyes right in front of her. Jayce's face slowly turned red. "[whispers] Vic… I, to you…" Jayce's throat bobbed with a swallow. He started to speak, then closed his mouth. "[gentle] …No. Never mind." Jayce stepped back, almost as if fleeing. (What was he about to say?) Victor clutched the data sheet to her chest and looked down. Her ears felt hot. "[whispers] N-never mind… See you tomorrow." That was all she could manage. After Jayce left, Victor collapsed onto the bed. She buried her face in the pillow. (This pounding heart is highly likely a side effect of the accident.) (It has to be.) (Theoretically, that's the case.) But—the trembling of her hands as she clutched the pillow was surely not a side effect. --- The night grew late. Outside the window, Piltover's nightscape glittered. Orange streetlights dotted the white cityscape, and in the distance, pale blue Hextech lights flickered on the great Paragon Bridge. Victor sat at her desk, quietly turning the pages of her notebook. She laid out the evidence of the data tampering alongside a memo that had just arrived from Caitlyn. The memo read: *That man is Leonard, a chemical broker for the Shimmer Syndicate. Suspected of illegal Hex gem trading in Zaun.* The Shimmer Syndicate. The underground organization from Zaun that peddled the purple enhancement drug, "Shimmer." Victor had spent a poor childhood in Zaun. Back then, the name of the Shimmer Syndicate had been a symbol of terror. "[whispers] …Must I return to those depths again?" Going to that dangerous city in her current body. To that place where toxic gas called the Gra