In the northern part of Piltover, a dense stream of people flows toward the highest district of the city-state—the enclave where the major families and the wealthy reside.
Less than a month remains until Piltover's most important annual celebration: Evolution Day. Yet the streets are already adorned with lights and bustling with activity.
By tradition, many prominent families set aside time during this period to interview promising students from across the city—those who demonstrate notable knowledge or technical skill.
If a student's invention wins a family's favor, they may receive investment and sponsorship, lifting them out of poverty and low status to the pinnacle of Piltover society.
In the waiting room of a luxuriously appointed mansion in northern Piltover, a young, slender teenager with Ionian features sat among dozens of other students of varying ages—all wide-eyed as they took in their opulent surroundings.
Today's interview was with the wealthy and influential Kiramman family. The family's matriarch, Mrs. Kiramman, held a seat on Piltover's Supreme Council.
The waiting room was vast—easily accommodating a hundred people. Parallel and interlaced polished marble tiles formed intricate, irregular patterns on the floor, their surface so glossy it nearly reflected one's image.
In one corner stood a Levick clock, an invention by Piltover's famed polymath, Kerwin Levick. The steady ticking of its pendulum echoed through the otherwise silent chamber.
Against the wall sat a bench crafted from rare wood imported from the Freljord, its faint, natural fragrance lending the air an earthy calm. The Ionian youth and more than a dozen other apprentices sat upright on it, awaiting their summons from Master Kiramman.
After a while, a middle-aged man emerged from the grand double doors nearby. He wore a brown double-breasted jacket, a neatly knotted tie, and carried a black cane. His temples were lightly dusted with gray, and his demeanor radiated disciplined composure. He wore pristine white gloves and moved with meticulous grace—a clear mark of aristocratic upbringing rarely seen among commoners.
He approached the bench and tapped his cane twice on the floor, instantly drawing every eye.
"I am the steward of the Kiramman family," he announced slowly. "I will now explain the procedure.
"Those whose names are called will enter through that door." He gestured toward the double doors behind him.
"Inside, five of the Kiramman family's master craftsmen await. You will state your name, present your invention, and briefly explain how it works. The craftsmen will then evaluate your work.
"If you disagree with their assessment, I advise you not to challenge it. By Kiramman tradition, our craftsmen are both excellent and fair—they do not render unjust judgments.
"If you succeed, return to this waiting room through the same door you entered. I will make further arrangements for you afterward. If you are not selected, a small exit door on the right side of the interview room will lead you directly out of the Kiramman estate."
His voice faded into silence. He scanned the room. "If anyone has questions, speak now."
No one answered.
After a brief pause, the steward nodded. "Very well. We begin."
He reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a neatly folded sheet of paper, and carefully unfolded it—the list of candidates.
"First: Lilin."
"That's me." The young man with Ionian features raised his hand and stood.
"Ionian?" The steward's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he quickly composed himself. "Proceed through that door. Good luck."
"Thank you for your blessing," Lilin said, offering a slight bow.
He walked to the door, took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then gently pushed open one of the ornately carved wooden panels and stepped inside.
Compared to the grand waiting room, the interview chamber was modest in size.
The space curved in a gentle semicircle, and directly ahead sat five examiners behind a long table. All wore dark brown double-breasted coats with white linings.
In the center sat an elegantly dressed couple who appeared to be in their thirties or forties. On either side of them sat two elderly men—each at least sixty, with silver-streaked hair and the sharp, knowing eyes of seasoned inventors.
Sitting at the very edge was a young man with slicked-back hair and a fresh face. He didn't look very old—and seemed strangely familiar.
At the sound of the door opening, all five people turned to look at Lilin in unison, making him feel slightly uneasy.
Lilin walked to the center of the room. Before he could speak, the young man at the edge—holding a gold-plated feather pen—asked, "What's your name?"
"Lilin," he replied, neither humbly nor arrogantly.
The young man lowered his head and scribbled something in his notebook, then continued, "What work would you like to present?"
"I call it the Mechanical Watch."
"Watch?"
The middle-aged, bearded man sitting in the center couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the odd name. He glanced sideways at the woman beside him, cleared his throat, and asked,
"Ahem… What exactly is this 'watch' you're referring to? Is it similar to the pocket watch invented by Levitra?"
Lilin nodded and pulled a round object with two straps from his slightly worn shoulder bag.
"As the name suggests," he explained, "a watch is a timepiece worn on the wrist. Compared to bulky pocket watches, wristwatches are smaller, more convenient to carry—and more accurate."
Lilin raised his left hand, fastened the watch strap around his wrist, and then quickly took it off to demonstrate its convenience to the interviewer.
The two old men placed monocles over their left eyes and peered at Lilin's wrist with curiosity, whispering to the person seated between them:
"What do you think?"
"Hmm… it's a novelty. It looks more practical than a pocket watch."
"I think this is a game-changer! Why didn't I think of doing this?"
"Let's not talk about accuracy—just the fact that he can shrink such a large pocket watch into such a small piece shows this young man has real talent."
"It's just a bit ugly. It would be fine if it were a little more refined… What do you think, Madam Kiramman?"
Both old men turned toward the middle-aged woman.
"Indeed," she said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "It is somewhat crude. But if further refined, it could very well replace the pocket watch among the Piltover elite…"
She paused, a gleam flickering in her eyes. Then she turned to the woman seated beside her. "Madam, what do you think?"
The room fell abruptly silent. Even breathing seemed too loud.
Lilin's throat bobbed involuntarily.
Even the dullest observer could tell that the woman before them was none other than Madam Kiramman—head of the Kiramman family and one of Piltover's highest-ranking councilors.
"Your name is Lilin, correct?" Councilor Kiramman folded her hands on the table, sat up straight, and leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but deliberate.
Under the weight of those deep blue, unreadable eyes, Lilin felt an unfamiliar pressure coil in his chest.
"Yes, Councilor Kiramman," he replied stiffly.
"Not bad—you actually recognized me." A faint smile touched her lips. "Are you from Ionia?"
"Yes. My hometown is Presidium in Ionia. I came to Piltover four years ago."
At the mention of Presidium, he noticed the four men exchange subtle glances.
"Four years ago…" Madam Kiramman sighed softly. "A wise move, leaving that troubled land when you did."
She rose, and the four men immediately stood and stepped back.
The crisp click of her high heels echoed against the marble floor as Councilor Kiramman approached Lilin, took the watch from his hand, and studied it closely for a long moment.
"Excellent design," she declared at last. "I'll grant you provisional approval. Go see Jayce and obtain a 'patent application contract,' then leave. We'll discuss your salary and employment terms after all interviews conclude."
She gestured toward the young man who had asked the first question and handed the watch back to Lilin.
Jayce?
Lilin looked at the young man in surprise—his face seemed oddly familiar—but he didn't linger on him long.
Just as Madam Kiramman turned to leave, Lilin hurriedly called out, "Please wait a moment… Councilor Kiramman! I have a few more designs here!"
She paused, eyebrows lifting in genuine surprise. "Oh? What else?"
The elderly councillor behind the long table could no longer contain his excitement. He hurried to her side, eyes wide as he scrutinized the young Ionian.
Lilin moved swiftly, pulling several rolled design sketches from his satchel and offering them to Councilor Kiramman and her husband.
They skimmed the drawings at first—then their expressions sharpened with intensity.
Bicycles. Hand-cranked generators. Electric lamps. Printing presses…
Time seemed to slow.
After carefully studying every sheet, the Kiramman couple exchanged a stunned look, then turned to Lilin in unison:
"You designed all of this? What in the world do you do?!"
Lilin hesitated, then answered quietly, "I'm just an ordinary mechanic…"