Chapter Text
YEAR 207
Long, elegant onyx hair swayed with each step, moving almost in rhythm with the gentle sway of her hips as she walked through the halls of the women’s dormitory. Caitlyn Kirraman, a recent transfer student to the University of Piltover, exuded the composed confidence of someone born into privilege. Her mother, the illustrious Cassandra Kirraman, had abruptly pulled Caitlyn from her overseas university at the end of the fall semester, citing an opportunity too good to pass up.
When Councilman Heimerdinger personally requested Caitlyn’s enrollment, Cassandra had seen it as an unmissable chance to curry favor with the court. Ever the calculating politician, she didn’t hesitate to uproot her daughter, shipping her back home with promises of new beginnings and brighter prospects. To Cassandra, it was a double victory: a move to bolster her social standing and a chance to keep her daughter closer to the family fold.
Caitlyn had settled into her new dormitory only a few days ago, arriving just as students trickled back from the study break. Her roommate—a quiet, polite girl—seemed a perfect match. She was well-mannered, articulate, and, much to Caitlyn’s relief, just as meticulous about cleanliness. The arrangement, while new, had appeared promising.
Until now.
Standing frozen in the hallway outside her room, Caitlyn’s blue eyes widened as a cacophony of very inappropriate noises echoed off the walls. The lewd, rhythmic sounds emanating from behind her door assaulted her ears, each reverberation hammering home a reality she was unwilling—but unable—to deny.
Her body tensed, caught in a liminal state of shock and begrudging comprehension. She had expected many things from her transfer to Piltover. This was not one of them.
Caitlyn hesitated at the door, unsure how to proceed. It was already late, and with an early class looming, she desperately needed sleep. The hours spent hunched over books in the library left a dull ache in her back, and the prospect of enduring even a moment more of discomfort—especially of this nature—was almost too much to bear.
She doubted her roommate, Ahri, cared about such trivialities right now. Judging by the sounds leaking through the walls, Ahri was very much enjoying herself—an auditory experience Caitlyn was already trying, and failing, to erase from memory. Perhaps, if the two of them (and she fervently hoped it was just two) were sufficiently engrossed in their activities, she might be able to slip in unnoticed. Once inside, she could retreat to her room, close the door, and drown out the indecency with music. Surely it wouldn’t last that long…
Though their bedrooms were separate, Caitlyn wasn’t entirely confident the communal kitchen hadn’t been defiled in some unthinkable way. The thought made her stomach churn. The shared space was small, and sneaking past without being seen—or worse, heard —would be a challenge. Just as she was about to resign herself to wandering the halls until things settled, muffled giggles and the shuffle of feet reached her ears.
She froze, holding her breath as the noises moved away from the kitchen. Moments later, a door clicked shut, and silence fell.
A crisis averted.
Caitlyn let out a long, shaky exhale and turned the doorknob, opening the door as quietly as possible. The cool darkness inside greeted her like a balm, swallowing her in quiet relief. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her with the utmost care, the faint sound of the latch clicking into place the only betrayal of her presence.
For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, releasing some of the tension still coiled in her shoulders. Her bedroom door was just a few steps away, a haven that promised reprieve from the chaos. She just had to reach it.
“Who the hell are you?”
The rough, feminine voice cut through the suffocating silence like a knife.
Caitlyn jumped with a startled yelp, her back slamming against the door as her heart leapt into her throat. Her wide eyes locked onto piercing grey ones beneath a wild tangle of bright magenta hair. The woman stood impossibly close, one arm braced against the door, effectively caging Caitlyn in.
The earthy scent of the stranger filled Caitlyn’s senses—sweat, soap, and something inexplicably delicious. The warmth of her breath brushed Caitlyn’s neck, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine. But it was the eyes—intense and unyielding—that rooted her in place.
And then Caitlyn noticed something else: the bare, sweat-slicked chest mere inches from her own.
Her face erupted in a furious blush as she slapped a hand over her eyes, turning her head sharply away. “I-I live here,” she stammered, the words spilling out before she could think.
“Vi, come back to bed,” came a sultry, sing-song voice from the hallway.
Caitlyn’s stomach sank.
“Oh! Heeeey, Cait!” Ahri’s tone shifted, dripping with mock surprise and just a touch of awkwardness as she padded closer, her bare feet whispering against the floor.
Caitlyn turned her head towards the sound—though her hand remained firmly over her eyes—and forced a nervous laugh. “Hello, Ahri. Just, uh, trying to get to sleep.” Her voice wavered, betraying her nerves. The strained smile on her lips felt alien and stiff.
The woman, now known as Vi, huffed out a low breath. Caitlyn could feel the shift in energy as Vi turned away, her arm dropping from the doorframe. The relief was palpable, but fleeting.
Vi strode toward Ahri with an easy confidence, dipping low to grab sweatpants, she yanked them on. “I better get going anyway,” she said with a grin. Then, with a wink over her shoulder, she added, “Catch ya later, legs.”
Caitlyn’s ears burned as the wet smack of a kiss reached her, and she fumbled frantically with her keys.
They slipped from her trembling fingers.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, crouching to retrieve them.
Vi moved gracefully, picking up the fallen keys with an ease that Caitlyn couldn’t quite comprehend. How did she move so fast and silently?
“Here, cupcake,” Vi said, her voice low and infuriatingly smooth. Caitlyn barely had time to process the nickname before Vi leaned in, pressing her shoulder lightly against Caitlyn’s back as she slid the key into the lock and opened the door with a practiced motion.
“Good night,” Vi added, her confidence dripping with smug amusement.
Caitlyn’s heart stuttered in a way that was both annoying and unsettling. “T-Thanks,” she mumbled before bolting into her room and slamming the door shut behind her.
Through the wood, she could faintly hear Vi’s chuckle, a deep, velvety sound that somehow managed to infuriate and fluster her all at once. Moments later, the dorm door closed, signaling Vi’s departure, though the boldness she exuded seemed to linger in the very air.
Caitlyn waited, ears straining, until the sound of fading footsteps assured her the coast was clear. Slowly, she cracked her door open and glanced toward Ahri, who was still standing in the shared space. And still very naked.
“What the hell , Ahri?” Caitlyn snapped, her hand flying to cover her eyes in a futile attempt to maintain what little modesty the other girl hadn’t.
“Sorry,” Ahri replied, her voice dripping with amusement. “Got a little… distracted.”
Caitlyn could hear the smirk in her tone. She thought this was funny .
“Well, y-you’d better clean up the kitchen,” Caitlyn stammered, her words sharp with indignation. “This is hardly appropriate. Or sanitary.” Her posh British accent only added to the air of authority she tried to muster.
“Oh, so you were listening.” Ahri’s chuckle was unrestrained, teasing.
Caitlyn’s face burned crimson. “The entire floor could hear you,” she bit out before slamming her door again, the sound reverberating through the dorm.
Ahri’s laughter rang out behind the closed door, light and unapologetic.
Caitlyn sighed, leaning against the door for a moment before shaking her head. She was too tired for this. Her bed had been the only thing she’d thought about all day, and now even that felt tainted by the evening’s events. Beds were meant for sleeping, and kitchens were meant for cooking—not… defiling.
Ugh, hopefully, they don’t start dating , Caitlyn thought bitterly as she dropped her bag to the floor with a thud. I can’t deal with this on the regular.
Shrugging off her shoes, she collapsed onto the bed fully clothed, too exhausted to care. The soft embrace of the pillows pulled her under almost immediately, the tension in her body giving way to the weight of sleep.
Yet as her mind drifted, something nagged at the edges of her consciousness—a lingering thought, a presence, something… grey.
Caitlyn’s alarm blared far too quickly, dragging her from the restless four hours of sleep she’d managed to steal. Outside, the world was still shrouded in darkness, but her morning runs had become a non-negotiable ritual. She groaned, forcing herself upright, and dressed for the cold, lacing up her well-worn running shoes. They were on their last leg—she’d need to replace them soon if they were going to survive another training term.
Jogging down the stairs of her dorm, Caitlyn pushed open the door and stepped into the snow-dusted yard. She inhaled the crisp, clean air, savoring the way the fresh snowfall blanketed the world in pristine silence. Snow was predictable, even comforting—unlike everything else in her life lately.
Her feet found the familiar path that wound along the university’s perimeter. It was a common track, and by the end of her run, she’d usually pass a few other athletes. But at this hour, she was always first, earning her previous coach’s teasing nickname: “track setter.”
Her new coach at U of P, Jayce Talis, was more than just a professor; he was a long-time friend of the Kiramman family. Caitlyn had no illusions that his connections hadn’t played a role in securing her place here, especially when Professor Heimerdinger had vouched for her. It didn’t bother her—much. She knew she could back it up with her skills, but earning her teammates’ respect would take more work.
As she hit her third kilometer, her thoughts drifted to ideas of reform and the legal system—her driving purpose. But she held back from pushing her pace too hard, mindful of the slick patches of ice that could end her season before it began. Soccer wasn’t just her escape; it was her identity. Her nickname, SharpShooter, echoed in her mind, a bittersweet reminder of the harmony her last team had shared. She doubted she’d find that here.
Rounding the fifth kilometer, Caitlyn’s focus snapped to a loud boom reverberating from a nearby dome. A few strides later, there was another. And another. Her curiosity piqued, she slowed her pace, following the sound to the open bay door at the rear of the building. Jogging through the snowbanks, she peeked inside.
A lone figure stood on the ice, clad in full hockey gear. Their jersey, number 13, bore the name VIOLENCE in bold, block letters. Caitlyn watched as they pulled a puck forward with their stick, lining up the shot.
Bang !
The puck hit the boards behind the net, too powerful to find its mark. Adjusting their stance, the player pulled another puck back and launched it with a fluid flick of the wrist.
Bing !
This time, it struck the crossbar, the sound ringing through the empty rink. Without missing a beat, they fired off shot after shot with precise, almost mesmerizing movements. Caitlyn stood rooted to the spot, captivated by the raw power and grace.
Voices echoed from a corridor, and Caitlyn, embarrassed for lingering, decided she didn’t want to be caught spying on someone’s private practice. Quietly, she backed out of the doorway and resumed her run, her thoughts now as restless as the air around her.
By the time she returned to her dorm, she found Ahri already awake, seated at the table with a bowl of cereal and a self-satisfied smirk.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Caitlyn asked, still catching her breath.
“Oh, you’d know,” Ahri replied with a giggle, watching as Caitlyn flushed.
“ Oh .” Caitlyn shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes, her face burning.
“They weren’t kidding when they said she was good,” Ahri added dreamily, her gaze drifting off.
Guess it had been that good , Caitlyn thought dryly.
“Who is they ?” Caitlyn asked, still trying to piece together the whirlwind of names and faces since her transfer.
“Oh, right, you’re still new. The woman from last night? That was Vi. She’s kind of a big deal—captain of the hockey team.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”
“Not quite.” Ahri leaned back, her grin widening. “Vi has a… reputation. She’s not sleazy, though,” she added quickly. “She’s just… honest. She makes sure you have a good time but doesn’t want to settle down.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Caitlyn asked bluntly, her disapproval clear.
“Why not? It was worth it,” Ahri shot back, winking. Caitlyn rolled her eyes and headed to her room.
“Don’t knock it till you try it!” Ahri called after her, laughing as Caitlyn slammed the door.
Caitlyn cleaned up quickly and dressed before making her way toward the lecture halls. Students of every background flooded the immense corridors, their chatter echoing off the high ceilings and making the space feel much smaller than it actually was. She rubbed shoulders with a quiet-looking girl whose hair was tied into a neat afro bun. The girl’s glasses sat low on her nose, and when she met Caitlyn’s gaze, there was an awkward pause before Caitlyn decided to break the silence.
“Is it always this chaotic?” Caitlyn asked, her tone light but genuinely curious as she glanced around at the swarming crowd.
“Are you new here?” the girl responded, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. I just started here—transferred from university of Noxos,” Caitlyn explained, keeping her tone polite.
“Huh, thought so. Well, yeah, first classes are always like this. Everyone gets funneled here from the dorms. It’ll thin out later in the day.” The girl gestured vaguely toward the packed hallways before continuing. “What class are you headed to? Do you even know where you’re going?”
Caitlyn resisted the urge to smirk. She had, of course, meticulously prepared ahead of time, touring the campus to ensure she wouldn’t get lost on her first day. But she opted for a more conversational response. “Sociology 301,” she said. “I think I know the way.”
“Oh, with Miss Madarda? You’re in for a treat—she’s great. Down the hall, to the left, past the water fountain. You can’t miss it. She’s got a golden door.” The girl rolled her eyes, chuckling as if amused by the professor’s flair.
Caitlyn filed away the tidbit but extended her hand in greeting. “Thank you. I’m Caitlyn, by the way.”
The other girl shook her hand with a firm but friendly grip. “Sky,” she said. As they shook, a flicker of recognition crossed Sky’s face. “Wait… Caitlyn Kiramman?” she asked, holding onto Caitlyn’s hand a beat longer.
Caitlyn sighed internally but nodded. “Uh… yes, that’s me.” She wasn’t particularly thrilled about being recognized. She’d been hoping to keep a low profile, but transferring to a university back in her home city made that highly unlikely.
Sky’s face lit up with excitement. “You’re on the soccer team! Our first pre-season meetup is on Friday. You should come! Jayce has been talking you up nonstop.”
That caught Caitlyn by surprise. Jayce had mentioned the meetup in passing, but she hadn’t planned on attending—not before proving herself to her new team. “I’d like that,” Caitlyn said cautiously. “Though I hope he hasn’t oversold me.”
Sky laughed. “Oh, he’s full of praise for you. He even mentioned your stats overseas. I think the Panthers actually have a shot this year with you playing.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t count on me being a striker. I’d be lucky to land anywhere in the forward lineup.” Her previous team had dubbed her the ‘ SharpShooter ,’ but she doubted this new team would let her waltz in and claim the spotlight.
“Our striker broke her leg last season,” Sky said with a shrug. “She’s out for good, and no one’s stepped up yet. But we’ll figure it all out on Friday.”
As the crowds around them began to thin, Sky tore off a corner of paper from her notebook and scribbled down her number. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “Shoot me a text, and we can meet up after class sometime this week.”
Caitlyn took the paper with a small smile. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”
Sky nodded and veered off toward a lecture hall marked Bio Engineering . Caitlyn couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in mild admiration. Impressive , she thought as she watched Sky disappear into the room. It was no surprise her new teammate was sharp, but Caitlyn made a mental note to learn more about her soon. She had a knack for piecing together stories.
Just as Sky had predicted, Professor Madarda was nothing short of amazing. Beautiful, funny, and wickedly intelligent, she commanded the lecture hall effortlessly. Caitlyn found herself enthralled, already looking forward to the semester ahead. When the class concluded, she was gathering her things when the professor called out her name.
“Caitlyn Kiramman, I presume?” Professor Madarda’s voice was low and smooth, a tone Caitlyn could easily listen to for hours.
“Yes, Professor Madarda,” Caitlyn replied promptly, standing a bit straighter.
“Just Mel is fine,” the professor corrected with a small smile. “Your mother reached out earlier this month. It seems we have some catching up to do. I wanted to get your contact information to ensure you’re up to speed on the readings you’ve missed.”
Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a polite smile. She had, of course, kept up with the readings on her own, but there was no harm in letting Professor Madarda think otherwise. “Thank you, I’d greatly appreciate that.”
“Great. I look forward to watching you play later this year,” Madarda added, her smile warm yet somehow dazzling.
The comment caught Caitlyn off guard, and her professionalism faltered for a moment. “T-thank you,” she stuttered ever so slightly, her cheeks warming as she cursed her reaction.
Mel’s eyes twinkled, but she merely nodded toward the door. “Don’t want to be late to your next class, Miss Kiramman.”
“Oh—er, yes, ma’am,” Caitlyn said, scrambling to gather her things. She turned to leave, only to nearly collide with a pink-haired woman who sauntered confidently into the room.
Caitlyn’s steps faltered as she caught sight of her. Her. The insufferably smug stranger. Caitlyn’s displeasure was written all over her face, but the other woman didn’t seem to care. Those intense grey eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s, and to Caitlyn’s growing annoyance, the woman had the audacity to wink.
With an infuriating smirk plastered across her lips, she brushed past Caitlyn as if daring her to react. Caitlyn bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression neutral, though her irritation simmered beneath the surface.
Inside the room, Mel’s voice dropped a note. “Ah, Vi. To what do I owe the displeasure?”
Caitlyn paused just outside the door, curiosity momentarily overriding her better judgment. She pressed her back against the wall, ears straining to catch their exchange.
“Mmmm… Mmmel Mmmmadarda,” Vi drawled, her tone dripping with teasing amusement. “Just rolls right off the tongue. Can’t help myself.”
Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, mortified on behalf of her professor. She heard footsteps—Vi’s, no doubt—drawing closer to Mel. The playful tension in the air was palpable, and Caitlyn felt her stomach twist with secondhand embarrassment.
Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, she seemed to being doing a whole lot of that lately, Caitlyn pushed off the wall and hurried down the hallway, her mind racing. She couldn’t stop thinking about the smirk on Vi’s lips, the audacity in her gaze. It would take all day to forget that infuriating woman.