I Am Not a Thief

Morning, Piltover University.

Lina arrived at school early, not for class, but for the library. And not to read, either—she was there to queue at the library entrance for free notebooks and pens.

Every month, Piltover University distributed free notebooks and pens to its students on a regular schedule.

This tradition supposedly dated back three hundred years, to when the university was first founded.

Back then, the administrators' original intent was simply to hand out cultural souvenirs emblazoned with the Piltover University crest, tokens that would mark these elite students as something special.

But as the Twin Cities split and wealth disparity grew, the student body gradually evolved into two distinct factions: native Piltovans and Zaunite exchange students, the rich and the poor.

The penniless Zaunites, of course, never passed up free paper and pens.

The wealthy Piltovan students, meanwhile, wouldn't dream of lowering themselves for such petty gains, lining up alongside the Zaunite rabble they looked down on.

So, without anyone really noticing, what had once been a campus-wide cultural program turned into a targeted poverty-relief effort for Zaunites.

By now, the morning mist had barely cleared, and a long line of students had already formed in front of the library.

They all wore Piltover University uniforms, suits and ties, looking every bit the part.

But everyone knew they were Zaunites.

Only Zaunites queued here.

"Come on, can't we speed this up?" muttered someone in line, voice thick with resentment and embarrassment.

Everyone felt the shame.

Lina was no exception.

People streamed past the library entrance—other students, teachers—brushing by them constantly.

Standing in this "Zaunite" line, Lina couldn't help feeling mortified. Even if no one passing by was looking at her, she felt countless eyes boring into her.

And there really were plenty of eyes on her, on all of them.

"Lina?" someone called out in surprise.

Lina reluctantly lifted her head and followed the voice.

It was an upperclassman she'd run into a few times recently.

They'd always been polite enough, but the senior had never known Lina was from Zaun.

Now, she certainly did.

"Lina... you, why are you queuing here too?"

She looked Lina up and down, taking in her delicate features that fit right in with Piltovan style, then glanced at the line of Zaunite students. Her expression shifted from shock to something complicated.

Hard to describe that complexity.

But it was definitely uncomfortable.

"S-Senior," Lina forced herself to reply. "Did you need something from me?"

"No, nothing." The senior smiled and shook her head, saying nothing more.

She walked off with that smile still on her face.

It was a bit like when a struggling student asks a top scholar a painfully stupid question, and the scholar holds back a reply, a faint, knowing smirk tugging at their lips.

Only more malicious.

"That snobby bitch, if you've got nothing to say, why start a conversation? Nobody's got a cork in your ass—if you want to shit, just go ahead and shit!" Lina cursed viciously in Zaunite.

But after the outburst, a wave of helplessness washed over her. She looked around at her fellow countrymen, all queuing for this "handout." They were the same—heads down, terrified of being recognized by someone they knew passing by.

But no one left.

A Zaunite's dignity was worth no more than a pen and a notebook.

"Hurry up, please," Lina sighed, just wanting this torture to end.

Luckily, she'd come early enough.

She endured and endured, and finally made it to the front of the line.

At the head of the line, two middle-aged women were in charge of handing out the pens and notebooks.

They were both native Piltovans, but clearly from the lowest rung of that society.

Their bloated figures, fattened on cheap fried chicken, tasteless outfits, and wannabe-trendy permed curls made these two Piltovan aunties look even more dowdy than the Zaunite students in line.

Their job was supposedly to distribute the pens and notebooks, but really, they just dumped the free stationery on a table and let the Zaunite students grab what they wanted.

Then they sat there, cracking sunflower seeds and gossiping about campus news:

"Hey, hey, did you hear?"

"Professor Jayce last night—" Jayce was the scientific star of all Piltover; anything about him spread across campus at lightning speed.

Not to mention, as a muscle-bound hunk dripping with testosterone, Jayce was the dream man of these aunties.

"—took on a new student for his research group. I hear this is the first student Professor Jayce has ever accepted!"

"Who is it, to catch Professor Jayce's eye?"

"Kaya Ferros. Heard of her?"

"Ferros? That Ferros?" One of the older women clicked her tongue in admiration. "From a big family, huh. Really makes a difference."

"What are you guessing for? That Miss Ferros is a genuine genius, no fluff about it."

"Word is, Professor Jayce personally tested them last night. Out of dozens of the academy's best students, only Miss Kaya managed to solve the problem. And she's just turned eighteen!"

"Look at her. Born better than the rest, smarter than the rest, works harder than the rest. No wonder House Ferros keeps raking in the fortune. Well deserved!"

"..."

The two women were deep in their chatter, but Lina found it hard to swallow.

Kaya Ferros did have real skill—that young lady's grades weren't padded, and even Lina had to admit that.

But what did they mean by "only Kaya solved the problem"?

She had solved it too, and just as well as Kaya!

How, after just one night, had the story twisted into a solo show for Kaya Ferros?

In that tale, Miss Kaya was diligent, brilliant, and owed nothing to her family name—so much so that Professor Jayce was "captivated at first sight," declaring, "This girl's talent is no less than my own; she'll surely achieve greatness."

If Lina hadn't seen that young lady's true face with her own eyes, she might have started worshipping her too.

"Wait."

Lina couldn't help thinking back to the biographies she'd once believed without question—the stories introducing Piltover's tycoons, noble houses, councilors, scholars, and all kinds of great figures.

Those tales of the mighty were also packed with "young prodigy" anecdotes:

The Cherrywood Axe, the Light-Focusing Mirror, Heimerdinger's Little Stool.

It was as if the greats had been extraordinary since childhood, and their success was simply inevitable.

"Could these stories... all be like Kaya's—embellished and polished up?" Lina began to doubt everything she'd once accepted.

But thinking about it was useless.

Kaya had won, plain and simple. No amount of resentment would change that.

Her only hope now was Professor Viktor. He'd said he'd take her paper back to show the research group. A night had passed—she wondered if there was a result yet.

Maybe...

In a little while, Viktor would appear before her, smile warmly, and tell her she'd been accepted too?

At that thought, hope filled Lina's heart.

The queue, the stares, the older women's praise for Kaya—none of it mattered anymore.

She could endure it all. Just grit her teeth and get through it.

Lina told herself this silently, and before she knew it, she'd reached the front of the line—finally her turn to collect a pen and notebook.

But then.

"Out... we're out."

The free stationery on the table had all been taken by the students ahead.

There was plenty more in stock, though. The pens and notebooks were stacked behind the table, blocked by the two stout Piltover women. They just needed to bend down and haul another pile up.

But they were still chattering away, savoring the gossip about Kaya and House Ferros's legendary tales, paying Lina no mind at all.

They sat right behind the table, yet seemed blind to the empty surface, blind to Lina standing there, blind to the long line of Zaunite students waiting for their stationery.

"Um... ma'am?" Lina clutched her bag nervously, speaking up softly. "The pens and notebooks on the table... they're all gone."

The two women didn't hear a thing.

"Ma'am?"

Still no reaction.

Like teammates who couldn't see the signals.

"Ma'am!" Lina finally couldn't help it and reached out to tap one of them on the shoulder.

The Piltover woman's brow furrowed instantly. She stopped her gossip and turned a dark face toward Lina:

"Who are you calling 'ma'am'?"

"Can't you tell how old I am? Where's your manners?"

"S-sorry," Lina stammered an apology. "Miss, um—"

"What 'um'? Spit it out!"

"The stationery's gone," Lina pointed at the empty table in front of her—impossible to miss unless you were blind.

"So it's gone! Just say so!" The woman shot her an irritated glare, then reluctantly bent down and hauled up a stack of notebooks and pen boxes.

"Thank you." Lina swallowed her pride and muttered the words.

But just as she reached out to take them, the other woman spat out a sunflower seed shell, raised an eyebrow, and eyed her suspiciously:

"Hold on. You look familiar."

"Say, you haven't already collected your stuff and then snuck back in line for another round, have you? Hey hey. I'm warning you, that counts as theft too!"

"Huh?" Lina was taken aback.

She hadn't expected to face such an accusation out of nowhere.

Though maybe she should have.

Back in class, whenever something went missing, she and the other Zaunite students were always the first to be called in for questioning.

"But I didn't!" Lina felt a surge of anger. "I—I'm a student at Piltover University too. How could I possibly steal!"

"If you didn't, then fine!"

"Why are you yelling so loud, huh?"

"Guilty conscience?"

Lina: "..."

Endure. I have to endure.

If I get through this, Professor Viktor will bring me good news.

If I get through this, graduate, and find a job, I'll become a noble Piltover citizen too.

But then Li Wei's essay surfaced in Lina's mind. It was just a dry historical analysis paper, yet somehow it stirred up a Zaunite's anger.

It made you want to point a finger right in those Piltover faces and hurl a curse:

"Go to hell!!!"

"I'm not a thief!!!"