Kaen Vexis was fast asleep on Jinx's couch, twisted into a position that defied human anatomy. One leg dangled over the backrest, one arm was wedged beneath his body, and a thin string of drool stretched from the corner of his mouth, staining the already filthy cushion. He was dreaming of a world made entirely of electric bass guitars and endless noodles.
His peaceful slumber was brutally interrupted by a sound. A distant but insistent voice, cutting through the metallic walls of the workshop.
"JINX!"
Kaen stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. What an annoying alarm, he thought in his half-dreaming state. And it's got a terrible voice.
"JINX!"
The shout was closer now, carrying a cold, controlled fury. Heavy bootsteps echoed against the metal floor. Kaen cracked one eye open, his feline pupil narrowing. Across the room, the source of the commotion was blissfully oblivious.
Jinx sat at her workbench, surrounded by Jayce's stolen notes scattered like pages from a mad scripture. She was peering through a magnifying lens at a butterfly-shaped device, welding goggles perched on her face. The gramophone blared at full volume, spitting out the same punk-rock track from the night before. She was utterly absorbed, fingers delicately holding the metallic butterfly, tongue poking out in concentration.
"JINX!"
The man shouting moved forward with heavy, deliberate steps, eyes locked on Jinx, who still hadn't noticed him. Kaen recognized him instantly: the boss of his number-one fan. The man wore a tailored dark suit, immaculate despite the grimy surroundings. His slicked-back dark hair framed sharp, scarred features. But most striking of all was his left eye. The sclera was an unnatural black, and the iris burned with a reddish-orange glow—a smoldering ember of power and menace on an otherwise controlled face.
Silco.
He ignored the figure half-slumped on the couch. His only target was the girl who ignored him. He moved through the clutter with predatory grace, his steps muffled by the pounding music. Stopping beside the gramophone, Silco brought his hand down with a violent crack, killing the music instantly. The sudden silence was louder than the noise.
Jinx swiveled lazily in her chair, a sly grin spreading across her face. "That's my name~" she sing-songed.
Silco loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her in its presence."Seven Enforcers injured," he hissed, his voice a dangerous whisper. "The entire Academy on high alert. And a trail of your art"—he spat the word—"plastered across the square."
Jinx leaned back, grin widening with shameless pride.
"Mhm~," she sighed, savoring the memory. "It was amazing."
Silco's jaw tightened. The reports he'd received had been chaos—mentions of a masked musician wreaking sonic havoc. But the style of the blast, the colors, the graffiti… it all screamed Jinx.
"Do you have any idea what kind of disaster you've unleashed?!" Silco roared, snatching the butterfly device from her hands.
"Actually, I do," Jinx replied. Before his fury could spill over, she dug into her pouch and pulled out the Hextech gem. She held it aloft. The crystal's deep blue light clashed against the burning orange of Silco's eye, casting the scene in an eerie purple glow.
She offered it. Silco froze. His rage dissolved into stunned disbelief. He stepped closer, fingers hovering just short of the pulsing gem. His entire plan, his ambition, his revolution—all condensed into that small, perfect crystal.
At that exact moment of tension, as Zaun's fate shimmered between father and daughter, a loud, drawn-out yawn broke the silence.
"Aaaaaaawwwwwnnn."
Silco went rigid. His head turned slowly, his burning eye locking onto the source. Kaen was sitting up, stretching his arms with audible cracks. His silver-white hair was flattened on one side, his clothes rumpled, giving him the look of an aristocrat who'd slept in a dumpster.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Silco's awe curdled into icy caution. His body tensed, his hand sliding subtly inside his jacket. The dynamic had changed—from a crime lord confronting his troublesome ward to a protective father discovering a stranger in his daughter's room the morning after.
Kaen, blissfully unaware of the mortal danger, studied Silco. He took in the expensive suit, the rigid posture, the Terminator eye. His gremlin brain connected the dots. Ah. He looks like a Disney villain who desperately needs a vacation. And he's staring at me like I'm a cockroach in his soup.
Kaen stood, straightening his filthy jacket with undeserved dignity, and approached the pair. Silco didn't move, but his glowing eye flared hotter.
Kaen stopped a few paces away. He glanced at Jinx, then back to Silco. Then, with the blankest face and the flattest tone he could muster, he dipped into a slightly clumsy, theatrical bow.
"So, we finally meet," he said, his voice devoid of the solemnity his words suggested. "It's a true honor. Dearest father-in-law."
The silence that followed was so deep you could hear water dripping a mile away.
Silco's mind, usually a machine of schemes and strategies, simply halted. He processed the word. Father-in-law. It didn't fit. It was a puzzle piece from another universe. His gaze flicked to Jinx, who now had a hand clamped over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she fought to contain laughter. He looked back at Kaen. Silco's hand didn't move. His molten eye narrowed to a slit of magma. In his mind, he calculated seventy-three different ways to kill Kaen using only the items on that table.
"Who…" Silco began, his whisper so low and dangerous it seemed to vibrate the air, "…are you?"
Kaen, unfazed: "I am Kaen Vexis. Artist, visionary, and, apparently, your daughter's new roommate." He gestured toward the couch. "She's very generous. Offered me the sofa after being captivated by my latest performance. I'm her idol, you see."
"The masked musician," Silco muttered, the pieces sliding together. His gaze drifted to the modified bass resting on its stand.
Before Kaen could answer and dig his grave any deeper, Jinx burst into laughter."HAHAHAHA!" She wiped a tear from her eye. "Silco, this is Kaen! He's my partner!"
Kaen extended a hand to Zaun's crime lord. "A pleasure to finally put a face to the name. Your daughter speaks wonders about you. Well, not really—mostly complaints. But I'm sure it's a deeply complex and endearing family dynamic."
Silco ignored the outstretched hand. His burning eye scanned Kaen, searching for deception, threat, meaning. He found none. Just a baffling void of absurdity.
"What is he doing here, Jinx?" Silco asked, his voice taut, gaze never leaving Kaen.
"As he said, he's my new roommate," Jinx replied with shameless ease. "And my music director. I'm housing him in exchange for his invaluable… uh… artistic critique."
"A partnership," Kaen added, finally lowering his hand. "Founded on our shared passion for dramatic performances and disdain for public property. You should be proud. Your daughter's networking."
Silco stood there, caught in the strangest situation of his life. In one hand, he held the future of his revolution. In front of him stood a silver-haired idiot calling him father-in-law. His authority, his intimidation—his entire arsenal—was useless against Kaen's armor of pure, shameless stupidity.
He looked at Jinx, still laughing, then at Kaen, staring at him with vacant, innocent expectation. For the first time in years, Silco had no idea what to say.