Dawn had slipped away quietly, leaving its natural sibling, Morning, knocking on the crisp, golden borders of Piltover.
Inside the grand Kiramman mansion, Kyle was fast asleep, sprawling across his room's plush, high-canopied bed like a felled log.
Last night's mess had drained every drop of energy from his veins, leaving his mind in a dense, dreamless fog.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
The sharp, rhythmic tapping on the heavy oak door shattered the silence.
Kyle stirred, a low groan escaping his throat as his eyes slowly blinked open.
He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, stood up, and stretched his arms toward the decorated ceiling, letting out a lingering yawn.
A satisfying series of cracks echoed from his neck before he dragged his feet toward the door and pulled it open.
Standing in the hallway was a young maid, holding a neatly folded set of morning attire.
"Good Morning, Young Mas—" she began, her tone formal, before her words abruptly died in her throat.
Her gaze drifted down, catching sight of Kyle's bare torso paired only with low-slung pajama bottoms.
The sheer impact of his thoroughly toned, chiseled chest and broad shoulders caught her completely off guard.
A deep crimson blush rushed up her neck, painting her cheeks as she instantly averted her eyes to the velvet rug.
Kyle blinked, thoroughly bewildered by her sudden silence.
He glanced down at himself, finally registering his lack of a shirt.
His hands instinctively flew up to cover his chest, and he narrowed his eyes at her in mock outrage.
"Pervert," Kyle said, deadpan.
The flustered maid's face instantly paled, her flush evaporating into sheer horror.
Panic seized her as she clutched the folded clothes tightly to her chest, her voice trembling into a desperate flurry of apologies. "I—I am so sorry, Young Master! I didn't mean to—I wasn't looking, I swear—!"
"Pfft, hehehe,"
Before she could spiral into full-blown panic, Kyle broke into a soft, resonant chuckle.
He lowered his arms and offered a reassuring grin. "Hey, hey, slow down and take a deep breath. In and out. I'm just messing with you. Relax."
The maid paused mid-apology, inhaling a ragged breath as she tried to regain her composure.
She exhaled slowly, her heart still hammering against her ribs.
Kyle watched her with amused curiosity. "You must be new here, right?"
"Y-Yes sir. I... I joined the household staff last week," she admitted, still refusing to look him directly in the eye.
That explained it.
The older servants knew better than to fall for his theatrics; they were well aware of just how mischievous Kyle had been in his younger years.
Once her chest stopped heaving, the maid finally delivered her message, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on his collarbone.
"Lady Kiramman requested that you be woken up immediately and asked for you to join the family downstairs for breakfast."
"Message received," Kyle said, giving her a gentle nod. "Tell her I'll be down in a minute."
"Yes, Young Master," she squeaked, turning on her heel and marching swiftly down the hall, though the faint pink tinge on her ears lingered until she turned the corner.
Shutting the door, Kyle walked over to the full-length mirror leaning against his wardrobe.
He ran a hand over his ribs and shoulders, inspecting his skin.
All the dark, ugly bruises he had accumulated during his brutal clash with Stanwick had vanished overnight, leaving smooth, unblemished skin in their place.
Perks of not being normal, he thought to himself with a subtle smirk.
In a good way though.
Satisfied that his body was back in peak condition, he headed into the adjacent bathroom to freshen up.
As cold water splashed against his face, his mind drifted back to the heated exchange he had shared with Viktor the previous day.
Viktor's words had cut deep, forcing Kyle to confront a reality he had tried hard to ignore.
He had been acting like a hypocrite—demanding openness from others while maintaining a massive wall of secrets around his own family.
They loved him, worried for him, and yet he spent his nights slipping out of windows and wearing a mask.
After a long beat of internal debate, his resolve hardened.
The decision was made.
He was going to tell them today.
Feeling fully awake and mentally prepared for the absolute storm he was about to unleash, Kyle threw on a simple tunic, brushed back his hair, and walked downstairs to the dining room.
*********
At the expansive dining table, all four members of the Kiramman family were gathered.
The air carried the rich aroma of freshly brewed tea, warm pastries, and toasted bread.
Tobias looked up from his plate as Kyle pulled out a chair and sat down. "How are you feeling today, son?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine paternal warmth.
"I'm alright," Kyle replied, buttering a slice of toast. "Better than yesterday, actually."
He paused, taking a bite before casually shifting the topic. "So... what's the latest word on the attack at the Academy?"
Tobias folded down the upper corner of the newspaper he was reading. "The reports are coming in fast. The attacker was identified as Stanwick Pididly, a former professor at the Academy."
Kyle lowered his toast, his brows furrowing as he pretended to dig through his memory. "Stanwick Pididly... that name sounds familiar."
"It should," Cassandra chimed in smoothly from the head of the table, sipping her tea. "He is the same disgraced academic you and Viktor exposed years ago for plagiarism, intellectual theft, and unsanctioned experiments. A truly bitter man."
"Ah, right. That bast-I mean that terrible person," Kyle corrects himself midway, nodding slowly.
The pieces fell into place easily—it made complete sense why Stanwick had returned, twisted by vengeance, targeting the very institution that disgraced him and aiming specifically for Viktor. "Were there any casualties?"
Caitlyn set her tea cup down with a light clink. "Fortunately, no. Nothing critical. A few minor injuries among the guests and faculty, but the Enforcers managed to stabilize the area quickly."
"Though, to be entirely fair," Tobias interjected, holding up a finger, "we largely have Spider-Man to thank for keeping those injuries to a minimum."
Instantly, three pairs of eyes locked onto Tobias.
"What?" Tobias defended himself with a mild shrug. "It's the truth." He turned the newspaper around, laying it flat on the mahogany table.
The headline of The Daily Gazette read in bold, angry letters: THE MASKED MENACE STRIKES AGAIN. AND THIS TIME HE WASN'T ALONE. WAS THE SPIDER-MAN IN COLLUSION WITH THE VULTURE? The article rambled on about how the vigilante was likely a terror threat himself, suggesting elaborate conspiracies between him and the winged attacker—a villain the press had already dubbed 'The Vulture.'
Tobias dismissively tapped a different section of the page, pointing to a syndicate report from an independent paper. "Ignore the scandal-mongers. Look at the eyewitness accounts here. Dozens of citizens—and even a few council aristocrats—explicitly stated that the vigilante risked his life to fight off the attacker and saved Viktor's skin. Viktor himself gave a signed statement confirming it. The public is calling him a hero."
"Cool," Kyle said simply, leaning back in his chair with a small, discreet smile.
"I agree with Father that this 'Spider-Man' helped resolve a dangerous situation," Caitlyn said, her tone growing sharp and analytical. "But that doesn't excuse his actions. Choosing the path of vigilantism is inherently dangerous. If he possesses such extraordinary power, why doesn't he operate within the system? Why not work alongside the Enforcers, or consult with Jayce?"
Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but Caitlyn raised a hand, cutting him off before he could start.
"And don't give me that look, Kyle," she insisted, leaning forward. "I understand he might be trying to protect his identity or his loved ones. I really do. But society relies on order. Structure is what keeps us from falling into chaos. What happens if tomorrow someone else decides to put on a mask, act as judge and jury, and something goes horribly wrong? Who takes responsibility then?"
Neither Kyle nor Tobias interrupted her.
The room went quiet.
Because, despite Kyle's personal feelings, he knew she wasn't wrong.
Her perspective was rooted in the very principles that kept a city from tearing itself apart.
Cassandra, who had been listening quietly to the discussion, finally set her porcelain cup down. "Caitlyn is correct," she stated firmly.
Kyle and Tobias slowly turned their heads toward the matriarch of the house, staring at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.
Cassandra siding completely with Caitlyn on a matter of principle without adding a dozen political caveats was an extremely rare sight.
"Society functions under laws and regulations," Cassandra continued, unfazed by their stares. "Whenever that order is compromised, doubts, whispers, and conspiracies begin to take root. Chaos follows, and chaos inevitably leads to destruction. It is an ancient, unyielding cycle."
The dead silence at the table stretched on for a few uncomfortable seconds.
Cassandra's eyebrows raised in mild annoyance. "What?"
Kyle suddenly dramatically stood up from his chair, clutching his head with both hands while staring at the ceiling. "Did... did Mom just agree with Cait without a single argument? Where did the sun rise today? Is the sky falling? Is this the end of the world?!"
Caitlyn rolled her eyes, while Cassandra stared at him with a thoroughly unimpressed, deadpan expression.
Tobias hid a faint chuckle behind a polite cough.
"Sigh. Tough crowd," Kyle joked softly, raising his hands in defeat before sinking back into his seat.
Cassandra let out a quiet sigh.
"As I was saying—Caitlyn and I may have our friction regarding methodology, but that does not alter the fact that her core argument is sound. Therefore, I believe it must be our top priority at the next Council session to ensure this 'Spider-Man' is... contained. For the safety of Piltover."
She drained the last drop of her tea and elegantly smoothed out her coat, preparing to stand. "There is an emergency council meeting in an hour regarding this whole 'Vulture' affair. An attack on the Academy while the city's leadership was present is a catastrophic breach of security."
"Mom," Kyle said suddenly.
His tone lacked any of his usual playful banter.
It was quiet, steady, and strangely heavy.
Cassandra stopped mid-movement, her sharp eyes locking onto her son. "Yes?"
The atmosphere in the dining room shifted instantly.
Tobias lowered his newspaper completely, and Caitlyn leaned back, sensing the sudden turn in the room's energy.
Kyle rarely used that tone unless something was fundamentally wrong.
Kyle looked at his mother, then turned his gaze to his father and sister.
He took a slow, deep breath, steadying his rapid heartbeat, and rested his hands flat on the wooden table.
"Before you head to that meeting... I have something to show you all," Kyle said, his voice grounded and entirely serious.