The night had passed with his head pressed against the desk. His neck ached. His arm had gone numb. Raikaru slowly lifted his face. Outside the window lay the familiar color of ash-fog—a murky morning sky where gray and yellow blended together. Drain Street was beginning to stir. The creak of cargo carts, someone's cough, the distant wail of steam pipes. On the desk, there was a machine part. A pale blue light pulsed quietly. It looked slightly brighter than last night. Raikaru stared at it and exhaled softly. The back door was tapped. Knock, knock. The workshop had a service entrance in back. It was rarely used. All repair clients came through the front. So—who was it? When Raikaru stood and opened the door, an old man in a deep hood stood there. His back was bent slightly, his frame small. No Union armband. In his left hand, worn leather gloves. In his right, a small ceramic pitcher. "[whispers]…Good morning, Raikaru. Did I wake you?" From that voice, Raikaru understood. "[surprised]Old man Marcus." Marcus was an old craftsman who had worked in a corner of Drain Street since Raikaru was twelve. The proper grip on tools, how to temper metal, how to diagnose a broken steam valve—he'd drilled all the fundamentals into Raikaru. He was supposed to be working for the Union now, inspecting Chemtech components, but today he'd left his armband behind. "Let me inside. Can't talk out here." Raikaru silently opened the door wider. Marcus entered the workshop and set the pitcher on the desk. "Drink. Your color's bad." "[serious]Your story comes first, old man." Marcus pulled out a chair and slowly sat down. Raikaru remained standing, leaning his back against the desk. On it lay the machine part. The pale blue light swayed quietly between them. The old man's eyes fixed on the machine part. His gaze—narrowed. "So it was that after all." His voice was low. "[serious]You know about it?" "[serious]I do. …There are fewer people in this city who know the truth than you'd think." Marcus cleared his throat once. Then he began to speak. It was in the final stages of the Bridgewar—three months before the Midland Ceasefire Agreement was signed. Several engineers from Zaun and Piltover, with different positions and ideologies, had been secretly running a single project. A technology to locally purify the ash-fog—that chemical smog born from Chemtech that continued to blanket Zaun. They called it Bridge Clean Energy Technology. The concept was based on Hex-crystal power, reversing Chemtech's chemical synthesis process. If it worked, there was a chance they could clear the poisonous fog that Zaun's residents breathed in every day—at least from one district. This was the prototype core component. "[serious]The plan was crushed before the Bridgewar ended. One of the engineers was taken away, the documents were burned. Only the core part went missing. …Until you found it in the basement of that abandoned factory." Raikaru looked at the machine part on the desk. Rusted, dented, yet still glowing. (So that's why—it keeps running even though it's broken.) "[serious]Volga wants to monopolize that technology, doesn't he." "[serious]Not just Volga. The Piltover Council wants the same thing. Whoever controls the technology to purify the ash-fog controls Zaun's energy dominance. You understand." He understood. All too well. That's why both sides were reaching for this small repair shop. Marcus coughed. Suddenly, violently. "[serious]…Give it to the Union, and this talk—" "Cough, cough…keep going, keep going." Raikaru quickly offered the pitcher. Marcus took it while still coughing. After a while, it finally subsided. "[sarcastic]…Were you always this dramatic?" "[sarcastic]When you get old, even a cough becomes important." The old man took a sip of water and looked at Raikaru. This time, straight on. "[serious]With your repair skills, you could complete that thing properly. That's what I believe. There are a few craftsmen in the Union who think the same way. Can't tell you their names, though." Raikaru said nothing. "[serious]If you want the safe path, give it to the Union. Volga's a man of his word. You can keep living as you have. …But that technology will never see the light of day." Marcus stood up. He straightened his back and pulled his hood back on. Before leaving, he turned once. His back was—small. The tired back of an old man bound by the Union for so many years. "[gentle]No need to rush your answer. …But time's running short now." The back door closed quietly. Raikaru picked up the machine part. The option of putting it back in the drawer crossed his mind. Lock it up, hand it to the Union, end everything. That was the safest path. But his hand stopped. The light of the machine part pulsed in Raikaru's palm. Broken, rusted, yet still moving. (…Can't be helped.) He set it gently on the desk. The safe path seemed to recede without a sound. ＊ That same morning, the Bridge District was quiet. The center of Midland Bridge—where the artillery scars from the Bridgewar still remained. Part of the railing had been blown away, leaving bare steel beams exposed. Ekoo always thought the air in the Bridge District was a little clearer than in Zaun, and she hated it for that reason. Because the smell of Zaun's ash-fog felt like her own smell. Ekoo stood by the railing, looking down below the bridge. Far below, Zaun's city lay hazy. When she came to this place, she remembered the people lost in the Bridgewar. Calling their names and getting no answer, but still calling anyway. Back then, she'd thought she could be alone. She'd tried to convince herself. Days spent with Raikaru came to mind. The smell of roasted sweet potatoes. The cramped workbench in the workshop. Hands silently adjusting a drone's wings. A profile concentrating hard while polishing away graffiti. (How stupid. Me.) Footsteps sounded. Not alone. Running. And desperately at that. "Haa—, haa—…" She turned. Silver hair whipped in the wind. Ryou had his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He had the look of someone who'd sprinted the entire length of the Bridge District at full speed. "[cold]…What are you doing here." "[serious]Haa, haa…Ekoo-chan, I—" Ryou looked up. His breathing hadn't steadied. But his eyes were straight. "[serious]It's true I came as a spy. But—it's also true that I fell in love with you, Ekoo-chan. I don't need data anymore. I'll tell my master everything myself. So please, you don't have to forgive me—just go back to Raikaru-san. That person can't be alone." He said it all in one breath. Ekoo was silent. One second, two seconds. A drone rose up. A sharp whistle through the air. "[angry]Whoa!" The drone struck Ryou's nose directly. With a dull thud, Ryou fell backward, rolling across the bridge on his back, both hands covering his face. "[crying]It hurts…it really hurts…" "[angry]Of course it does." She quickly recalled the drone to her hand. Ryou continued apologizing, still lying down, toward the sky. Ekoo—sighed. She could see a thin line of blood trickling from Ryou's nose. "[cold]…You okay." She regretted it the moment it left her mouth. Ryou slowly lowered his hands from his face. He had a smile-cry expression. "[crying]That's enough for me." Ekoo clicked her tongue and turned toward the far side of the bridge. (Why am I worried about him?) Beyond the bridge lay Zaun. Drain Street was sunk in the ash-fog. The repair shop in that alley was somewhere in there. The person I really want to see— The answer had been clear from the start. "[cold]…Get up, Ryou. We're going." "[surprised]Huh, where—" "[cold]Where do you think." Ekoo was already walking. The drone followed. Ryou scrambled to his feet, pressing his nose. ＊ The workshop door opened. Raikaru was standing in front of the desk. He turned, still holding the machine part. Ekoo was there. Her purple short bob was slightly damp from the ash-fog. Her heterochromatic eyes—gold and silver—looked straight at Raikaru. Silence flowed. "[gentle]…You came back." "[cold]Not really. I was just worried about your workshop." She looked away. The tips of her ears were slightly red. Raikaru thought of a clever response. After three seconds, nothing came to mind. "[serious]…I see." That was all. But the corner of his mouth relaxed slightly. Ekoo didn't miss it. She covered her mouth with her hand and quickly turned toward the workbench. Then the door opened again, hesitantly. Ryou, with a bandage on his nose, peeked his face in. "[scared]May I…come in?" His voice was barely a whisper. Ekoo pointed her drone at Ryou. Ryou quickly retreated. "[scared]Don't hit me! My nose still hurts!" "[angry]Then don't say unnecessary things." Raikaru held his head in his hands behind them. "[serious]You two calm down…" A cough came from the corner of the workshop. All three turned at once. Marcus was still there. Sitting in a chair in the corner, pitcher in hand, watching the three of them intently. "[sarcastic]…You three, are you getting along or not." The old man stood up and adjusted his hat. "[gentle]Young people are full of energy, which is good. I'll be heading out." He left quietly through the back door. Three remained. The workshop fell silent. Ryou cautiously came inside and closed the door. Ekoo put her drone away and sat on the edge of the workbench. Raikaru placed the machine part on the desk. "[sad]…I'm completely third place, but that's fine with me." Ryou said it with a smile-cry expression. To no one in particular, just said it. Raikaru and Ekoo both fell silent. Awkward, embarrassing, but the three of them were definitely in the same place. That much was certain. ＊ The three gathered around the workbench. The machine part lay in the center. Raikaru picked up tweezers and a small magnetic gauge. Ekoo held her drone over the machine part. Ryou opened his training notebook and began running his pencil across the page. "[serious]Five points of corrosion in the internal joints. But the potential difference is still active. If a repair technician works on it, current will flow." "[serious]If I match the drone's power and frequency, I might be able to resonate it. …Maybe." "[excited]I'll calculate the adjustment value using Hextech theory. Just wait a moment—" Ryou scribbled equations in his notebook. Ekoo slowly moved the drone, fine-tuning the distance from the machine part. Raikaru carefully cleaned each corroded joint with the tweezers. The three's movements began to mesh. Midway through the work, Raikaru reached toward the center of the machine part. At the same moment, Ekoo reached for the same spot. Their fingertips touched. Both pulled back at once. "[cold]…Focus on the work." Her face was red. "[serious]…I know." He answered quietly. Ryou glanced at the two of them sideways and sighed. Then he continued calculating. He said nothing. "[excited]Got the adjustment value. Ekoo-chan, raise the drone's frequency by 0.3 hertz." "[cold]I'm already doing it without being told." The drone's sound changed subtly. The low vibration pitch rose slightly. And then— The pale blue light of the machine part grew one level brighter. A thin veil of light spread across the workshop ceiling. The stains on the walls, the peeling paint, the rust on old tools—all were softly illuminated for a moment. It wasn't fully activated. But it was definitely responding. Ekoo held her breath. "[excited]The calculation…matches. It's responding." His voice trembled. Raikaru gently set the machine part on the desk. The light pulsed quietly. Much stronger than before. "[serious]…We can do this." A short sentence. But it held everything. Ekoo's nose flared slightly. The corner of her mouth relaxed. Ryou held his notebook to his chest, looking up at the light on the ceiling. Evening came. The chemical lamps in the workshop auto