The Wind Rises

Not long ago.

At the laboratory building of the Hextech Academy, Piltover University.

Jayce and his close research partner Viktor had been sharing the same office for years.

That morning, as he stepped into the building under the rising sun and approached the office door, he was startled to find the lights still on and the door left open.

Pushing the door open, Jayce saw Viktor.

Viktor sat quietly at his desk, as if deeply absorbed in thought.

His hair was a mess, his complexion sallow, and the dark circles under his eyes were heavy.

But his eyes alone burned brightly—though bloodshot and fierce, they still blazed like a flame.

"Viktor," Jayce said, sensing his old friend's poor state of mind. "Did you not sleep last night?"

"Mm," Viktor nodded.

"This..." Jayce's face showed concern.

Though staying up late was routine for scientists, and Viktor had often pulled all-nighters for research before.

But after the unpleasantness of last night, Jayce knew full well that what Viktor was studying now was hardly Hextech.

"Still thinking about that article?"

"Yes," Viktor said, gently stroking the notebook, his gaze focused and resolute. "This author is very clever."

"He told us what the world is like, and why it is that way, but he didn't tell us what to do or how to do it."

"That's the question he left us to ponder, and I..."

"Already have a faint answer."

Viktor looked up, locking eyes deeply with Jayce.

What Jayce saw in his eyes was a kind of passion—an unprecedented passion.

For some reason, that passion frightened him. Yet he was upright and honest, with nothing to fear.

"Viktor, are you in too deep?"

"That was just an extreme article," Jayce couldn't help but caution his old friend. "You're not really going to extremes and seeing all of us Piltover business owners as irredeemable villains, are you?"

"We're all your friends!"

"No, quite the opposite," Viktor shook his head calmly.

He had passion, but not fanaticism. He was even frighteningly rational: "After thinking it through, I realized that whether the problem exists or not doesn't actually depend on the moral quality of you individuals. Whether you're good or bad as people doesn't affect the bigger picture."

"Wh—what do you mean?"

"Jayce, can I ask you a few questions?"

"Go ahead, then."

"Years ago, when your Talise Family was still running the hammer-making workshop, did you hire apprentices?"

"Of course we did," Jayce said, puzzled why he was asking, but he answered patiently.

"How much did you pay them back then?"

"Well... about 10 Silver Wheels a week?"

"Do you think that salary was enough to live on in Piltover?"

"Uh..." Jayce was suddenly awkward.

He had never lived on 10 Silver Wheels a week in his life, so how would he know if it was enough?

But the lavish breakfast he'd had today was probably worth a few Gold Sea Coins—by Piltover's currency conversion, 1 Gold Sea Coin was worth 20 Silver Wheels, and 1 Silver Wheel equaled 12 Copper Rings.

"If they ate simply... it should have been enough, I guess."

Jayce stammered for a long time before reluctantly admitting:

"Alright, Viktor, I know you're accusing my family of paying our apprentices too little back then."

"But that was the market rate. We couldn't help it."

"Couldn't it have been higher?"

"We could raise it a bit, but not by much."

"Why not?"

"If we raised it too much, we couldn't control costs, and the business wouldn't survive!"

"Why wouldn't it survive?"

"There are other workshops that make hammers besides our Talise Family. If costs go up and prices rise, no one would buy our hammers anymore... We didn't have a choice."

The more Jayce spoke, the more wrong it felt.

Weren't they wealthy, powerful business owners? How had it turned into them being slaves to something?

"No, that's not right."

Jayce couldn't accept such a bizarre notion.

Nor could he tolerate Viktor's pointed, almost mocking tone.

So instinctively, he defended himself and his family:

"Viktor, what you're talking about was years ago!"

"Now I pay every employee in my family's business—even the lowest apprentice—a high wage of at least 5 Gold Sea Coins a week!"

As he said this, Jayce felt proud.

Because nowhere in all of Piltover, or even all of Runeterra, could anyone find a more generous boss than him.

Five Gold Sea Coins a week—that salary was something even Zaunites wouldn't dare dream of, let alone ordinary Piltover folk.

So everyone in the world knew that Lord Talise was a kind, benevolent, and generous man who cared for his employees. Anyone lucky enough to work in his factory might as well have had their ancestors' graves smoking with good fortune.

"But why is that?" Viktor asked, his tone calm. "Why was your family only willing to pay apprentices a wage of 10 Silver Wheels a week a few years ago, but now you're offering a high salary of 5 Gold Sea Coins?"

"Is it because you've become kinder, Jayce?"

"I—" Jayce was momentarily at a loss.

Of course, it wasn't because he'd become kinder.

It was because he'd become richer.

A few years ago, the Talise Family only made hammers, facing countless competitors.

A few years later, the business the Talise Family ran was Hextech cores—used to power teleportation gates and large machinery—a unique research achievement of Jayce's. They were the only ones in the game, with no rivals.

A few years ago, an apprentice forging a hundred hammers for his family each week could only earn a paltry few dozen Silver Wheels in revenue. So he could only offer a wage of 10 Silver Wheels.

A few years later, even if an apprentice only made one Hextech core for his family in a week, selling that single core would bring in a monstrous profit of dozens of Gold Sea Coins.

So of course Jayce dared to pay his workers such a high salary, showing off his generosity and kindness.

It did have something to do with his goodness, but was the connection really that strong?

He was just sharing a small portion of the profits with his employees—a trivial amount that didn't hurt him. In terms of profit-sharing ratio, it was even lower than back when they only made hammers.

"I—I—"

Without realizing it, Jayce broke out in a cold sweat.

He had always thought of himself as a good person.

When the workers praised him for his compassion and thanked him for his great kindness, he accepted it with quiet pride.

But as the conversation went on, he felt like he was being painted as a hypocrite.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not wrong."

Viktor stood up and patted his friend's shoulder reassuringly:

"You really are a good person, Jayce."

"You've never been wrong."

"It's not you who's wrong—"

Viktor turned his head again, looking out at the vast sky beyond the window:

"It's this world."

"..." Jayce was stunned into silence.

He didn't know what Viktor meant by that. But he instinctively sensed that this old friend might be planning something dangerous.

"Viktor, what exactly—" Jayce swallowed nervously. "—do you want to do?"

"Don't worry," Viktor said, simply picking up the notebook. "For now, I just want to meet this author."

"The answers I've come up with are still far from complete. I think he, as the one who posed the question, can resolve my doubts."

As he spoke, Viktor paced over to the window.

The morning sun lit up his face.

He reached out his hand, feeling the strands of air slipping through his fingers.

The Zaunites once prayed like this to Janna, prayed to the wind.

Viktor wasn't praying for anything, of course.

He was just feeling the wind, following the wind, even leading the wind.

The airflow was faint.

But the wind had already begun to blow.