"PS: If you find any mistakes, please leave a comment."
Durin dared not speak further. Quietly, he stood from his chair, left Amy's room, and gently closed the door behind him.
He understood the purpose of Amy's invitation for dinner, even though she never mentioned the word "borrow."
First, this was Zaun—a place where months of hardship had taught Durin not to trust others' words lightly. Second, Durin didn't have much money himself. All he had was seven silver wheels and forty-six copper coins.
After deducting two silver wheels for rent, another two for food, and the rising cost of herbs—which might take up three silver wheels per month—he realized that his money would barely cover this month's expenses.
Back in his room, Durin lay on the bed, sighed deeply, and muttered, "Living in this world is getting harder and harder."
The next morning, Durin went to the slaughterhouse and requested a day off from his supervisor.
Initially, he thought of finding some temporary work to pass the time and earn a little extra money before heading to his mage assistant job in the afternoon. However, the Piltover enforcers who arrived yesterday had combed through nearly every shop in Zaun under various pretexts.
They weren't just targeting alchemical tech—gardeners selling potted plants were accused of hoarding hazardous chemicals.
"Damn it, it's just a plant! What's so dangerous about it? Are they afraid of pollen allergies? It's not like I'm going to smash a flowerpot over a Bluecap's head," a disgruntled shop assistant muttered as he carried a pot back into the store.
These plants were already barely profitable after being shipped from Zaun's Inner Sea. Now, thanks to the enforcers' antics, the business was in shambles.
Nobody could figure out what was happening in Piltover to warrant such a large-scale operation in Zaun. "What, did their houses get demolished?" someone quipped.
"Ha! Maybe one of you eloped with an enforcer's mother. No wonder they're searching so thoroughly!" another joked, drawing laughter from the crowd.
Durin could only shake his head helplessly. Life was tough, and it seemed Zaun's days of peace were numbered.
By noon, Durin decided to head to 753 Third Avenue early, hoping to make a good impression at his new job.
The memory of his previous stint as a mage assistant still left a bitter taste in his mouth. The trauma of working under a mage who treated him like a lab experiment lingered, and Durin still took medication for the aftermath. But he had no choice—he needed the money.
The wages from his slaughterhouse job barely covered his expenses. Becoming a mage assistant was a step up.
When he arrived, Mage Kreslin was seated in a chair, engrossed in a book. Upon hearing footsteps, Kreslin looked up, glanced at the wall clock, and remarked, "Punctual enough."
He closed his book and continued, "Let's discuss your terms. You'll have a one-week probationary period. If your work doesn't satisfy me, I'll terminate your employment. Of course, you can also choose to leave. You'll earn 20 copper coins per day, and meals are available in the downstairs dining hall.
"As for accommodations, this building is fully occupied. If a room becomes available, I'll secure it for you as a free dormitory. However, I can't guarantee when that will happen."
"Thank you, sir. I truly appreciate it. By the way, are meals free?" Durin asked cautiously.
"They are, but the options are limited—just a few vegetables and black bread. If you want better food, you'll need to visit a tavern. Avoid places without signs; they're notorious for overcharging."
To Durin's surprise, the offer exceeded his expectations. Free meals and the possibility of a dormitory were rare luxuries in Zaun's lower tiers.
"Let's move on to your duties," Kreslin said, pointing to a mop. "Work hours are from 1 PM to 6 PM. The hours are short, but before I arrive each day, you must clean the entire room—mopping the floor and removing dust. I'll handle the books myself, so you won't need to organize them. Before leaving, clean the room again."
Cleaning and dusting were no problem for Durin, given his prior experience.
"Today, just start by tidying up the room," Kreslin added.
Durin quickly got to work, his experience making the task smooth and efficient. Kreslin, impressed by Durin's diligence, explained key details about the job as they worked.
"Dispose of the trash in the yellow bin by the door when you leave," Kreslin instructed. "Seal it properly before throwing it out."
Durin nodded earnestly, committing every detail to memory.
When the cleaning was done, Kreslin handed him a book titled Alchemy and Potions: A Beginner's Guide.
"Take this home and read it. The basics in here are essential. Once you've mastered them, you'll be qualified to assist in experiments."
Durin carefully accepted the book, his heart tingling with anticipation.
By the end of the day, after observing and assisting Kreslin in extracting and refining materials, Durin had successfully created his first paralysis toxin.
As he carefully sealed the precious liquid in a frosted glass vial, Kreslin handed him 20 copper coins, saying, "This is today's pay. Be here at the same time tomorrow. Don't be late."
Durin smiled brightly, pocketed the coins, and left 753 Third Avenue with a spring in his step.
After leaving Third Avenue, Durin made his way directly to the public elevator.
The elevator was situated in a massive atrium, its center dominated by three vertical tracks that stretched from the ground to the city's surface. Each track, made of wrought iron and measuring two meters in diameter, stood upright, forming the transport corridor of the public elevator.
These elevators were scattered throughout Zaun, spaced every two or three hundred meters. Some were privately owned, while others, like this one, were public.
The public elevators often rumbled late into the night, connecting the upper, middle, and lower levels of Zaun.
The elevators served all social classes, though their needs differed greatly. At this moment, a considerable crowd was already waiting. Each ride cost a single copper coin.
To cover basic maintenance costs, the elevator typically started only when fully loaded with 50 passengers.
Durin jogged inside, paid a copper coin, and moved to one side of the elevator. Shortly after, someone forcefully shut the iron grille gate.
The elevator began to ascend slowly, its acceleration palpable.
Durin estimated it would take about a minute to reach his destination. As he calculated the time, the scenery of Zaun shifted before him, shadows dancing across his face with the changing light.
A clockwork-like counter, driven by gears, ticked away. Countless gears meshed and advanced one notch at a time. When the most critical gear completed its rotation, the elevator's speed would decrease, and its acceleration would shift from fast to slow. The number displayed at the center above the gate would change from "4" to "5" with a crisp chime.
Finally, the public elevator came to a complete halt, suspended mid-air by three steel cables in the atrium.
Durin had reached his destination: the Border Market.
Located at the junction of Piltover and Zaun, this place was considered a black market by Piltover's citizens but thrived as a bustling marketplace for Zaunites.
The market spanned an immeasurable area, with orderly shops lining both sides of the streets. The stone-paved roads were remarkably smooth and clean, flanked by well-maintained trees and rows of streetlights that illuminated the expansive market in vivid detail.
Liquor, beauty, and wealth converged here at the Border Market.
"Don't miss this! A rare three-tailed white fox from Ionia—just three silver coins each! This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, folks!"
"Steelvine snakes! A vial of their venom for just five silver coins! Such high-quality materials—where else can you find this? Come and see!"
Durin strolled along the bustling streets of the market, the lively calls of vendors and the sight of their goods lifting his spirits.
The air here, flowing in from Piltover and the outside world through the canyon's massive fissures, was fresher than the polluted atmosphere of Zaun's lower levels. A faint, minty coolness lingered in the breeze.
Durin had come here because it had been a month since his last medication pickup. Per regulations, he needed to collect his medicine monthly. He had planned to see a doctor for a check-up over the next few days, so his day off today was the perfect opportunity to combine errands.
Each stall was crowded with customers—most of them merely browsing, not buying.
A middle-aged man inspecting goods at one stall caught Durin's attention. The man wore a filtration respirator, flanked by two burly bodyguards. Beside him stood a young noblewoman in a black gown, her glossy black hair cascading over her shoulders.
Most people's clothes here were patched and worn, clearly mended over years of use. In stark contrast, the man wore a double-breasted brown coat with a tie, pure white gloves, and carried a black cane. Every movement exuded a noble elegance rarely seen in Zaun.
Durin understood their purpose: to flaunt their social status.
In Piltover, one's attire, from fabric to tailoring, often signified wealth and influence.
Zaunites, on the other hand, were too preoccupied with survival or escaping the city to care about such appearances.
This nobleman, Durin surmised, likely belonged to a prominent Piltover family.
Thanks to the orderly nature of the Border Market—far better than Zaun's lower-level bazaars—instances of coercion or robbery were rare. Even high-ranking Piltovans occasionally strolled through.
Just as Durin was lost in thought, someone darted around a street corner and collided with him head-on.
The impact was forceful, knocking both of them off balance.
"Ugh!"
Durin staggered back, his pocketed Beginner's Guide to Alchemy and Potions falling to the ground.
The other person, stunned for a moment, quickly bent down, picking up the book. "I'm so sorry! I was joking around with my friends and wasn't paying attention. Are you hurt?"
Three others who had followed quickly apologized as well.
The girl handed the book back to Durin, bowed repeatedly, and hurried away, her companions trailing behind.
Durin rubbed his aching shoulder, the force of the collision surprising him.
The girl, with short pink hair, barely reached Durin's throat. She hadn't even looked up at him. Despite her slightly androgynous voice, the faint scent of a feminine fragrance lingered.
As the group walked away, their voices drifted back.
"See? I told you not to bring Powder along—she's always causing trouble."
"It wasn't me who bumped into him! I was behind you all!"
"Yeah, but your blue hair makes you stand out. What if he recognized you and reported us to those blasted enforcers?"
"He doesn't even know who I am! So what if he saw me?"
"Enough! Both of you, stop arguing. Mylo, this isn't Powder's fault."
"Vi, you're always taking Powder's side…"
Durin froze mid-step.
Wait. What names did they just say?
Vi? Powder? Mylo?
A wave of memories hit Durin like a thunderbolt. Before his transmigration, he'd watched a popular show called Arcane, produced by Riot Games. It revolved around the intertwined fates of Piltover and Zaun.
The timeline of that show began early, with Vi debuting at 16 and Powder, later known as Jinx, at 13.
And Mylo—he was one of Vi's early companions. If Durin remembered correctly, the opening arc of Arcane depicted an explosion in Piltover's Academy District caused by Vi's small gang.
Durin's heart raced. Could the events unfolding now mark the start of Arcane's story?
He spun around, intent on stopping the group to confirm, but they had already disappeared into the crowded streets.
A mix of awe and hesitation filled Durin. Meeting iconic characters was thrilling, but considering his precarious position and their looming struggles, he decided it was best to stay away. The last thing he needed was to attract the attention of Piltover enforcers.
Steeling his resolve, Durin continued toward the street where the black-market doctor resided.
Ten minutes later, he arrived at a crumbling, decrepit street.