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Madame Kiramman, one of the seven councilors of Piltover, sat upright on her velvet sofa. Her posture was a masterclass in Piltovian discipline—as standard and unyielding as a marble sculpture.
In a word: elegant.
Caitlyn tried to ghost past the living room toward the stairs, but just as her boot touched the first wooden step, her mother's voice cut through the silence.
"Is this the conduct I've instilled in you, Caitlyn?"
Caitlyn bowed her head, defeated, and paced over to her mother's side.
"What are you hiding? Show me."
Madame Kiramman's eyes were like a hawk's; years as a high-level accountant meant she could spot a missing copper in a mountain of gold. Reluctantly, Caitlyn produced the colored cube from behind her back.
"A creation by a young boy," Caitlyn explained, her voice gaining a hint of excitement. "It's called a Rubik's Cube. It's a puzzle of mathematical permutations..."
She stopped as her mother's gaze sharpened. "And it was because of this 'small thing' that you neglected your afternoon music lessons?"
"Mother, I know I was wrong." Caitlyn stood perfectly still, accepting the lecture.
Madame Kiramman took the cube. She turned a face, then another. The mechanical click of the internal gears was crisp—quality work. Her expression shifted from sternness to genuine intrigue. The last person to provide such a "pleasant surprise" in the field of logic had been Jayce.
"Have this boy come to our estate tomorrow," the Councilor commanded. "And you will make up for your missed lesson. Now, go to your room."
Caitlyn cast one last lingering look at the cube in her mother's hand before retreating, eventually muffling her frustration by punching her pillow. In the living room, only the rhythmic click-clack of the cube remained.
Back at the prosthetic shop, Store Manager Colin was staring at a literal pile of silver coins. He had earned three silver in an entire afternoon of backbreaking manual labor; the children had brought in a small fortune by letting people play with a block of wood and plastic.
"Is it really this easy to make money nowadays?" Colin muttered, experiencing a mid-life crisis of professional relevance. He looked at Kael with newfound respect. "Tomorrow, we go to City Hall for the patent. This invention... it could secure your entire future."
"You handle the paperwork, Store Manager," Kael said. "I'd rather focus on the workshop."
"A true scholar's heart," Colin noted, gratified. He ushered the children to bed, strictly enforcing the sleep schedule.
But as soon as the shop fell silent, a sneaky figure slipped into the attic. Orianna tucked herself into Kael's quilt, shaking him vigorously.
"Brother, get up! The performance is about to start!"
Orianna was the "perfect daughter" to the outside world, but Kael knew her secret streak of rebellion. She was a premature baby, weak and sickly, which made Colin overprotective. Kael was her only window into a world that wasn't sterilized and safe.
They climbed out the attic window and onto the roof, looking toward the city center where the noble nightlife was just beginning. Kael noticed a group of "Zaunite" kids on a nearby roof, their red-haired leader looking ready for some "moving" work—otherwise known as burglary.
Kael flicked a roof tile, hitting the red-haired girl squarely in the forehead. Her cry of pain alerted a nearby Enforcer patrol, forcing the young thieves to scatter.
"Great job, Brother," Orianna whispered, hugging his arm.
Kael used a clockwork-powered grappling hook of his own design to lower them into the street. They ran toward the theater, handing over two gold-edged tickets Kael had "sponsored." For Orianna, who used to peek through glass cracks to see the dancers, walking through the front door was a dream.
Inside, she sat on Kael's lap so she could see over the tall seats of the nobility. She was mesmerized by the art; Kael was mesmerized by the high-quality silk stockings on the dancers. Both left satisfied.
By the time they returned, Orianna was fast asleep on Kael's back. He tucked her in, feeling the quiet pulse of a life that, in another timeline, would have turned to cold brass and clockwork. Not this time.
Early the next morning, the bell at the prosthetic shop rang. Caitlyn stood there, looking slightly embarrassed.
"My mother, Councilwoman Kiramman, wishes to see Kael. Does he have time?"
Store Manager Colin's heart nearly stopped. A Council appointment was the highest honor a commoner could receive. He hurriedly pulled Kael aside, checking his collar and whispering frantic warnings about etiquette.
"Don't worry, Manager," Kael said calmly.
He walked out the door with Caitlyn, leaving the humble commercial street behind as they headed toward the ivory towers of the Piltovian elite.
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