League of Legends Series

Jhin x Jinx

Words: 3669

Another day, another kill. Where was the fun, the excitement—the passion? What had changed? Jhin could not wrap his head around it. Since when did killing become routine, an expectation rather than unbridled hedonistic pleasure? The days of careful planning and preparation were no more. One bullet, one kill. He didn't have it in himself to care.

He had lost his muse and, with it, his pride as a virtuoso.

For what was an artist without his brush?

Returning home, Jhin set aside his rifle and kicked off his boots, eagerly making for the kitchen. A basket of ripe Ionian fruits sat on his dining room table, with a velvet letter attached. It wasn't often that his mysterious benefactor demanded a favor, but Jhin was more than happy to oblige. The man, who came shrouded in mystery and secrets, paid for his lavish lifestyle, guns, and peculiar hobbies.

Opening the envelope, Jhin unraveled the parchment, feeling his pulse quicken. It had been ages since he last stepped foot in Piltover. It was a remarkable city full of art, culture, and innovation. Ionia was a beautiful region, but it never resonated with him quite as Piltover did. 'Twas a shame he preferred to live in solidarity.

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Piltover was just as glorious as Jhin remembered. The city of gold, perched atop juxtaposition personified, awoke his inner spirit. Such grandeur and innovation was not something one would find in Ionia, with its expansive forests and barbaric wildlife.

To say he was giddy was an understatement. Jhin was not one for conversations, but he spared no expense interrogating students outside the academy. He cursed his supposed deformity for invoking hesitance from those he approached. However, they quickly warmed to his inquiries about their experiments. After all, what kind of inventor didn't like to talk about their work?

Realizing he had gotten distracted, Jhin begrudgingly made his rounds of the city, gathering intel for the right price. The sleazy man before him wasn't worth his coin, but the sooner he finished, the sooner he could resume sightseeing.

How was this man constantly two steps ahead of him anyway? "Right, right, left," the assassin murmured under his breath, holding the scrappy map a homeless Zaunite had drawn him.

She was eager to receive his coin, but Jhin didn't expect her map to look so...childish. He had half a mind to track the urchin down and have her redraw the map, but it sounded too troublesome. He supposed this was the meaning of getting what you pay for.

It wasn't all for naught, though; the merchant behind the counter gave a crooked smile after the offering Jhin presented. Greed was the precursor of loose lips, and the assassin couldn't be more glad. His contract was planning to smuggle himself out of the city through an airship alongside the cargo. Soon, this city would be his to explore.

And maybe he would find his muse.

Jhin traveled to the upper districts of Piltover, hoping to haggle with the customs officer for a copy of the manifest. But there's no way that wouldn't sound suspicious, he grumbled to himself. Well, no harm in trying the civilized way first. The door leading to the customs office burst open, and out ran a man with fading pink hair, clutching a satchel to his chest.

Scratch that.

"Shit," Jhin hissed, but he didn't have time to think as an explosion went off, and he was thrown off his feet. Through the smoke stepped a girl with silky blue braids that nearly reached the ground. Then she gave chase, and Jhin wondered what the man had done to piss her off. He hadn't even been in Piltover for a day. Something tapped against his foot, and he glanced at the childlike toy, taking it between his fingers to examine it closely.