Not long ago.
University of Piltover, Academy of Hextech laboratory building.
Jayce and his close research partner, Viktor, had shared the same office for the past few years.
This morning, as he bathed in the morning sun and stepped into the building, returning to their office door, he was surprised to find the lights still on and the door ajar.
Pushing the door open, Jayce saw Viktor.
Viktor was sitting quietly at his desk, seemingly deep in thought.
His hair was a mess, his complexion dull, and heavy dark circles hung under his eyes.
Yet his eyes shone brightly. Even though they were webbed with fierce, bloodshot veins, they burned like a roaring flame.
"Viktor," Jayce sensed his old friend's mental state was off. "Did you not sleep last night?"
"Yeah," Viktor nodded.
"This..." Jayce looked worried.
Although pulling all-nighters was commonplace for scientists, and Viktor used to stay up all night doing research, after last night's unpleasantness, Jayce knew very well that what Viktor was researching this time was probably not Hextech.
"Are you still thinking about that article?"
"Yes." Viktor gently stroked the notebook, his gaze focused and resolute. "The author is very smart."
"He told us what the world is like, and he told us why it is this way, but he didn't tell us what to do or how to do it."
"This is the question he left for us to ponder, and I..."
"...already have a vague answer."
Viktor looked up, meeting Jayce's eyes deeply.
In his eyes, Jayce saw passion—an unprecedented passion.
Somehow, this passion frightened him. But he was an upright and honest man; there was nothing to be afraid of.
"Viktor, are you reading too much into this?"
"That's just an article with extreme views," Jayce said, trying to talk his old friend down. "You haven't actually gone to the extreme and started treating all of us Piltovan business owners as unforgivable villains, have you?"
"We are all your friends!"
"No, quite the opposite." Viktor shook his head calmly.
He had passion, but he wasn't fanatical. He was even frighteningly rational. "After some thought, I realized that whether the problem exists or not doesn't actually depend on your personal moral superiority or inferiority. Your individual goodness or badness doesn't affect the grand scheme of things."
"W-What do you mean?"
"Jayce, can I ask you a few questions?"
"Sure... ask away."
"A few years ago, when House Talis was still running the hammer workshop, did you hire apprentices?"
"Of course we did." Jayce didn't understand why he was bringing this up, but he answered patiently anyway.
"How much did you pay them back then?"
"About... 10 Silver Wheels a week?"
"Do you think that salary is enough to live on in Piltover?"
"Uh..." Jayce suddenly felt a bit awkward.
He had never lived a life on 10 Silver Wheels a week, so how would he know if it was enough?
However, the luxurious breakfast he had today was probably worth a few Gold Hex Coins—according to Piltover's currency conversion, 1 Gold Hex Coin was worth 20 Silver Wheels, and 1 Silver Wheel was equal to 12 Copper Rings.
"If they ate simply... it sh-should have been enough."
Jayce stammered for a long time before helplessly admitting:
"Alright, Viktor, I know you're pointing out that my family used to pay our apprentices too little."
"But that was the market rate. We had no choice."
"Couldn't it be a little higher?"
"It could be a little higher... but not by much."
"Why?"
"If it was too high, we wouldn't be able to control the costs, and the business would go under!"
"Why would it go under?"
"House Talis wasn't the only workshop making hammers. If our costs were high and we sold them for more, naturally no one would buy our hammers anymore... We didn't have a choice in this either."
The more Jayce spoke, the more something felt off.
Weren't they wealthy and powerful business owners? Why did it sound like they had become slaves to something?
'No, that's not right...'
Jayce couldn't accept such a bizarre thought.
Nor was he willing to endure Viktor's pointed mockery.
So he instinctively defended himself and his family:
"Viktor, what you're talking about happened years ago!"
"Now, I pay our employees, even the lowest-level apprentices, a high salary of at least 5 Gold Hex Coins a week!"
Jayce was proud when he said this.
Because in all of Piltover, perhaps even all of Runeterra, it was impossible to find a more generous boss than him.
5 Gold Hex Coins a week—let alone Zaunites, even ordinary Piltovans wouldn't dare dream of such a salary.
So the whole world knew that Lord Talis was a kind, generous, and caring philanthropist. Anyone lucky enough to work in his factory had practically struck the lottery.
"But why is that?" Viktor merely asked in a calm tone. "Why was your family only willing to pay apprentices 10 Silver Wheels a week a few years ago, but now you're willing to pay a high salary of 5 Gold Hex Coins?"
"Is it because you've become kinder, Jayce?"
"I..." Jayce was momentarily speechless.
Of course, it wasn't because he had become kinder.
It was because he had become richer.
A few years ago, House Talis only made hammers and had countless competitors.
A few years later, House Talis was in the business of powering Hexgates and large-scale machinery with Hextech Cores—this was Jayce's exclusive research breakthrough. They were the only ones; there was no competition.
A few years ago, an apprentice forging 100 hammers a week for his family would only bring in a meager revenue of a few dozen Silver Wheels. So he could only offer a salary of 10 Silver Wheels.
A few years later, even if an apprentice only manufactured a single Hextech Core for his family in a week, selling that one Hextech Core would bring in a terrifying windfall of dozens of Gold Hex Coins.
So of course Jayce dared to pay his workers such a high salary, showcasing his generosity and kindness.
It did have something to do with his kindness, but was that really the main reason?
He was merely sharing a tiny fraction of the profits with his employees. The cost was a drop in the bucket. In terms of profit-sharing percentage, it was actually lower than when they only made hammers.
"I... I..."
Jayce unknowingly broke out in a cold sweat.
He had always considered himself a good person.
When the workers praised his compassion and thanked him for his great kindness, he had accepted it with secret pride.
But why did he feel more and more like a hypocrite as they talked?
"Was I wrong?"
"No, you weren't wrong."
Viktor stood up and comfortingly patted his friend's shoulder.
"You are indeed a good person, Jayce."
"You were never wrong."
"It's not you who is wrong—"
Viktor turned his head again, looking out at the vast sky beyond the window.
"It's this world."
"..." Jayce was stunned speechless.
He didn't know what Viktor meant by this. But he instinctively sensed that his old friend was probably planning to do something dangerous.
"Viktor, what exactly..." Jayce swallowed nervously. "...are you trying to do?"
"Don't worry." Viktor merely picked up the notebook. "For now, I just want to meet this author."
"The answer I've come up with is still very incomplete. I believe the person who posed this question will definitely be able to resolve my confusion."
As he spoke, Viktor paced over to the window.
The morning sun illuminated his face.
He reached out his hand, feeling the wisps of air slipping through his fingers.
Zaunites used to pray to Janna like this, praying to the wind.
Viktor, of course, wasn't praying for anything.
He was merely feeling the wind, following the wind, and perhaps even guiding the wind.
The air current was very weak.
But the wind had already begun to blow.
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