In the evening haze of Zaun, Vi carried a tray of food she'd scraped together from a tavern, and she and Isha sat down at the table.
Jinx's door was still shut tight. Earlier that afternoon, after she'd taken a shower, she'd gone right back into her room—locking Vi out again.
Vi didn't complain.
The fact that Jinx had come out at all was already enough.
Vi picked up a piece of meat and put it in Isha's bowl, then ate in big bites, forcing energy back into a body that had been running on fumes. Isha glanced at Vi, lowered her head, and ate in silence.
Vi's eyes dimmed.
Before, when Vi put food in Isha's bowl, Isha would always give her a sweet little smile.
Now she didn't.
It had been a week since Logan was gone. In that week, so many things in Zaun had changed.
On the bigger scale—people had started building a statue in the plaza. A statue of Logan. Over ten meters tall. Right now it was only the base, but every night, Zaunites from every community gathered by the river, lighting little boat lanterns they made with their own hands, praying for their leader.
On the smaller scale—there wasn't a single person around Vi who wasn't grieving.
Marsen hadn't gone to work in a week. Manzu drank at the tavern every day. That kid Willa—Vi had caught him using Shimmer last time, beat him down, and locked him in a tiny room to "reflect."
Isha stopped smiling. Ekko barely spoke. Viktor threw himself even harder into technology that could benefit Zaun. Vander. Silco.
And Jinx…
As Vi's thoughts drifted there, she heard the sound of a door opening.
Vi whirled around—and saw Jinx step out.
She wore a beautiful long dress and new shoes. A necklace lay against her snow-white throat. Over the dress she'd thrown on a blue jacket. Her hair was down, spilling almost to her feet, and she walked straight toward Vi and Isha.
"Jinx…" Vi said softly.
Jinx looked at her and smiled, raising her voice like she was back to normal. "What? I'm hungry. I wanted to come out and eat. Is that not allowed?"
"Of course—of course it's allowed!" Vi blurted, too fast, too eager.
Isha immediately hopped off her stool and ran to fetch a bowl for Jinx.
She set them down, staring at Jinx's gaunt face with her lips pressed tight.
Jinx reached out and patted Isha's head, rubbing gently, smiling brightly. "It's okay, Isha."
"Waaah—"
A broken sound forced its way out of Isha's throat, and she burst into tears. She hugged Jinx's leg with both arms, burying her face against Jinx's thigh and sobbing like her chest was being torn open.
Jinx bent down, cupping Isha's head, and spoke softly with a smile. "It's okay. Cry, Isha. Let it out. It's my fault—I ignored how you were feeling these past days. I won't do that anymore."
Vi watched Jinx in silence.
"Stop staring." Jinx glanced at her, voice quiet. "Eat. After dinner I still have work to do."
Vi blinked. "Work?"
"Yeah." Jinx sat Isha back on the stool, then sat down. "Rebuilding Zaun. And making new weapons."
She didn't really have an appetite. But she forced it down anyway—forcing back nausea and discomfort, shoving food into her body bite by bite.
"And, Vi," Jinx said while chewing, "I need your help with something later."
Vi nodded hard. "Say it. I'll do anything you need."
"Don't be so tense. It's just a small thing." Jinx smiled.
It was her fourth smile since she'd come out.
The shape of it never changed.
Cheerful. Bright.
And completely fake.
After dinner, Isha proactively cleaned the table. Vi, face tight and unreadable, took a pair of scissors and followed Jinx back into her room.
The lights were on now. There were still shards of glass on the floor, but they'd been swept into a pile by the wall. On the bed, near the headboard, sat a cloth doll with black hair—Vi recognized instantly who it was meant to be.
Jinx sat at her vanity mirror and looked at Vi. "Come on, sis."
"You really want to cut it?" Vi asked, gripping the scissors, staring at Jinx's hair like she couldn't bear it.
"Cut it." Jinx grabbed her hair in both hands and lifted it, offering it to Vi.
Vi drew a deep breath, raised the scissors, and started cutting.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
Jinx closed her eyes, letting Vi gather and shear through the thick blue strands.
When Jinx opened her eyes again, she looked into the mirror.
Her hair only reached the back of her head now. Her bangs fell to about eye level. Jinx swept a hand through it and breathed out like she could finally move freely.
"Long hair gets in the way of work. This is easier. Looks good." She turned, pulled the hair tie off her wrist, and tied what was left into a short ponytail.
It was so short she could hold it all in one hand. She looked at Vi and smiled.
"…"
Vi didn't say anything.
She truly didn't know what to say anymore.
From the outside, Jinx looked… better.
But Vi knew she wasn't better at all.
That afternoon, with her new haircut, Jinx had gone to Zaun's council building. Silco had nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her like that. Jinx had only smiled, then asked Silco for a group of people—because she wanted to research weapons for Zaun.
Silco didn't refuse.
He didn't dare refuse Jinx anymore.
With those people, Jinx formed a tech group. Councilor Heimerdinger became their mentor, helping Jinx develop new weapons.
Logan's death had changed Heimerdinger too.
If Hextech research had produced stronger weapons sooner… would Logan have had to die?
The professor no longer spoke only of peace, no longer refused to let technology become weaponry. He chose to help Jinx because he'd realized something brutally simple:
The two cities could want to live without weapons.
But they couldn't afford to be without them.
In front of a truly overwhelming existence, the current technology of Piltover and Zaun had been a joke.
And that gave Heimerdinger a new idea—one he couldn't stop thinking about:
A powerful organism assembled with Hextech.
A weapon that could defeat a Darkin.
A guardian for the future of Piltover and Zaun.
Time kept moving. Days blurred. With Piltover's help, Zaun rebuilt quickly. Renata's policies went into effect, and Zaun's economy surged to heights it had never seen.
The seventh generation of air purification devices completely changed Zaun's environment. They stopped iterating so quickly, because this version had finally hit the sweet spot—low noise, low energy consumption, high efficiency.
Even so, Zaun was still dark, damp, and grim.
But in terms of air quality, it was no longer any different from Piltover.
Winter passed.
Spring arrived.
By late March, in Zaun's Hope Community, a massive statue stood tall. About fifteen meters high, three meters wide—a smiling young man with a blue cat-ear hat on his head. His left hand was lifted, fingers touching his chin, and on his wrist sat a child-sized watch.
His smile was warm. Gentle. His eyes faced forward, toward Zaun's future.
There were three statues like it in the Lanes. Two in the Promenade of Steps. One in the Entresol.
Even Piltover built one—right outside the gates of Piltover University, in one of the busiest places in the city.
On the base of that statue were the words:
In honor of the great hero of both cities—Zaun's eternal king: Logan.
That evening in Hope Community, Marna stepped outside and saw a familiar streak of blue.
In two months, Jinx's hair had grown back a lot. Her bangs now fell a little below her ears. She greeted people in Hope Community with a bright smile, laughing lightly as she spoke.
But she was still so thin.
Thin enough that a strong gust might knock her over.
She used to be skinny, yes—but she'd had muscle. She'd been healthy.
Now her skin clung tight to bone. Her long fingers looked like dry branches, no flesh left on them at all.
Marna watched Jinx's smile, listened to the murmured comments nearby.
Lord Logan had been gone from Zaun for three months and seven days.
Many still remembered him. But plenty were slowly starting to forget—because Zaun was consumed by rebuilding, and because the economy was rising so fast it made people dizzy.
Marna couldn't fully blame them for forgetting.
But when she heard people say Jinx was heartless—that she should be the one hurting the most, yet she smiled every day, worked every day, as if none of it mattered—Marna wanted to slap them.
Because once, Marna had asked Vi about it too.
And Vi had answered with absolute seriousness.
Jinx was sadder than anyone.
Other people had started to climb out of the hole.
But she was still down there.
She wasn't heartless.
She just… only had one expression left.
"My sister is already broken."
That was Vi's exact wording.
And Marna believed her.
Because Marna saw Jinx every day—her body, her eyes, her state of mind, the things she forced herself to do. Everything about her screamed that Vi was right.
Just like now.
After greeting everyone, Jinx gathered her skirt, sat down quietly beside the statue, and closed her eyes.
She leaned back on her hands, tilted her head up, and let the evening wind wash over her.
Every day after work, she came here.
And she stayed until deep night, only going home when the streets were empty.
"Logan… soon."
"Once the weapon is finished… once Zaun has its own defensive power…"
"I'll come find you."
"I miss you…"
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