The next morning, Ekko wandered the heavy silence of the workshop, surrounded by the machines he had assembled with his own hands. The Firelights had entrusted him with this space, their technological sanctuary, where his ideas took shape. Yet this morning, the tools were silent. The familiar smell of machine oil was not enough to bring him the usual comfort.

On his workbench, a half-built drone rested, its chassis gleaming in the artificial light. Ekko stared at it without really seeing it, Mel's words still floating in his mind. "Infiltrate Demacia... Swain will stop at nothing. If we fail, it's not only Piltover that falls, but Zaun with it."

He knew she was right. He also knew that his talents made him the best choice for such a mission. But the prospect of delving into unfamiliar territory, of risking his life for an uncertain future, was a heavy weight to bear. And behind it all, like an indelible shadow, there was her.

Jinx. No, he thought, Powder.

He spent the morning in the workshop of the Firelight lair, hiding behind a mask of confidence to avoid the questions of his comrades. A sharp noise behind him made him jump. Scar was standing in the doorway, a can in his hand and a weary expression on his face.

— "You don't look so great, boss."

— "I'm fine," Ekko replied, without much conviction.

— "Yeah, and I'm the Emperor of Piltover." Scar put the can on the table, approaching Ekko. He put a hand on his shoulder, a gesture both firm and compassionate. "You don't have to carry everything by yourself, you know."

Ekko smiled slightly, but his gaze remained shifty. Scar was probably the only person who understood how much Jinx had affected him. He had been there that night when Ekko had returned to the lair with haunted eyes and marks on his neck, unable to hide what had just happened. Scar had kept it a secret ever since, but he could see how deeply scarred that forbidden relationship had become.

—"Tonight, come to camp," Scar said after a moment of silence. "We're having a party. Nothing big, just a little blow-off. You need it."

Ekko shrugged, still staring at the drone. "I have too much to do."

—"You always have an excuse, huh? Seriously, man. You don't have to be a hero tonight. Just... come. I promise, no one will ask you to save the world."

Ekko hesitated, but something in Scar's tone made him give in. "Okay," he murmured.

Night had fallen on Camp Firelight, but in the center of the lair, makeshift lanterns cast a warm glow on the faces of the assembled members. The party was in full swing: music blared, laughter erupted, and discussions went on around tables filled with food and bottles stolen from Piltover.

Ekko arrived late, as usual. As soon as he set foot in the lit area, eyes turned to him. Some greeted him with cheers, others with shy smiles. He was their leader, their hero, and despite his desire for anonymity, his aura commanded respect.

Scar, already seated by a fire, waved enthusiastically. "You managed to get moving, well done!"

Ekko smiled and sat down next to him, taking the bottle Scar handed him. He rarely drank, but tonight, he allowed himself a sip. The alcohol burned his throat, but he ignored it. He looked around the crowd: new faces, young and hopeful, but also a few veterans scarred by past battles.

— "A few of them have been staring at you since you got here," Scar murmured, pointing to a small group of girls sitting further away. One of them, a slender brunette, gave him a smile before looking away.

— "Not interested," Ekko replied, shaking his head.

— "Dude, you have the right to live, you know." Scar shrugged. "Just saying."

The party went on, and Ekko eventually got caught up in the atmosphere. He laughed, drank a little more than he should have, and for once, he allowed himself to forget, if only for a moment, the weight on his shoulders.

Ria, the brunette girl, finally approached. She was confident, but not pushy, and her hearty laugh reminded him of what a simple, uncomplicated interaction was. They talked about everything and nothing, and somewhere along the way, Ekko found himself smiling without a second thought.

But deep down, he felt guilt creeping in, a lurking shadow that refused to leave him alone. "What are you doing here?" he wondered silently.

So Ekko gave himself over to the atmosphere. Each laugh, each note of music seemed to tear him further from reality, drawing him into a euphoria that he knew was fragile. Bottles were passed from hand to hand, and the alcohol blurred the contours of his thoughts. He felt like he was breathing for the first time in weeks, but beneath this artificial lightness, a tension persisted.

At one point, a familiar figure sat down next to him. Hibana, a Firelights mechanic known for her skills with explosives, handed him a half-empty bottle. Her green hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and there was something disarming about her smile, a nonchalant confidence that brought back memories he would rather forget.

"So, boss, are you planning on staying here all night, or are you finally going to join us?" she said, giving him a sidelong glance.

Ekko shrugged, a forced smile on his lips. "I'm just getting involved, right? I'm here."

— "You're here, yeah, but you look like you're miles away." She tapped her knee lightly against his. "Relax a little, all of Zaun won't collapse if you take a break."

He didn't have time to respond before she was already dragging him toward the center of the camp, where a circle had formed around an impromptu dance. Hibana was laughing as she jumped up and down, pulling him by the hand. Her joy was contagious, and despite himself, Ekko let himself be carried away by the energy of the moment.

The music was too loud, the bodies too close, and the rhythm hammered in his chest like a war drum. He closed his eyes, letting himself go to the heat of the fire and the cacophony around him.

But as he let himself go, the images came back.

Jinx. Her hysterical laughter, her eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and desire. The way she pushed him away, then pulled him closer, as if she were playing a cruel game that only she knew the rules of.

He remembered the stolen nights, their breaths mingling in dark corners of Zaun. Her fingers clawing at his skin, her whispers in his ear, full of taunts and empty promises. "You're just a kid, Firelight. You think you can save me? You're as lost as I am."

And yet, he always came back. Drawn to her like a flame to gunpowder.

"Ekko? Hey, are you there?" Hibana's voice brought him back to the present. She was close by, her face lit by the dancing glow of the fire.

— "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, shaking his head as if to chase away the ghosts.

Hibana tilted her head, her gaze searching his. "You're acting weird tonight. You need to clear your head."

Before he could answer, she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him slightly to a more secluded spot. They found themselves behind a pile of crates, somewhat out of sight. Hibana leaned against the wood, crossing her arms with a mocking smile.

— "You seem to carry all of Zaun on your shoulders. What's your secret? A girl?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes piercing.

Ekko laughed bitterly. "Something like that."

— "Yeah, I figured. It seems to be eating away at you." She took a step forward, placing a hand on his arm. "Listen, you don't have to keep everything to yourself. Sometimes, you just have to... let go."

He knew where this was going. Part of him wanted to back away, end this conversation before it went any further. But another, darker part, wanted to forget. Forget Jinx, forget his hands that still shook sometimes as he remembered their nights, their chaos.

Hibana was different. Direct, approachable, real. And tonight, he was too tired to fight against himself.

He leaned down, their lips met. At first, it was hesitant, awkward, but soon, the intensity rose. Hibana tugged on his collar, pulling him closer, and he let her, losing himself in the warmth of her touch.

But even then, Jinx was there. Her voice, her mocking laughter, the way she called him "Hero" with that childish contempt. Hibana's face would fade away at times, replaced by his own.

— "Stop it," he suddenly whispered, pulling away abruptly.

Hibana stared at him, confused. "What? What's going on?"

— "Nothing, it's..." He ran a hand over his face, trying to regain his senses. "It was a mistake."

Hibana raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Are you serious? A mistake? You don't seem to regret it though."

Her tone was direct, almost hurtful, but she didn't move. Her gaze searched his, searching for a reason behind his sudden recoil. Ekko looked away, his jaw clenched, caught in a mixture of guilt and confusion.

— "It's not you," he finally murmured.

— "Oh yeah? So who is it?" She paused, her arms falling limply. "You know what, forget it. If you can't figure out what you want, that's your problem, not mine."

She started to leave, but he grabbed her wrist, almost unconsciously, as if to hold her back.

— "Wait."

She turned around, annoyed.

— "Wait, what, Ekko? You clearly have some stuff to take care of, so be honest: do you want me to stay, or not?"

He stared at her for a moment, unable to answer. There was a different intensity in his eyes, a mix of defiance and desire, that resonated with a buried part of himself. His hand trembled slightly on her wrist. Hibana, however, remained still, her gaze piercing.

— "Stay," he finally said, almost reluctantly.

A heavy silence followed. Then she stepped closer, breaking the space between them. "Then show it to me," she said softly, but with a certain harshness.

He didn't wait any longer. Their lips met again, this time with a rawer, almost desperate urgency. Ekko pinned her against the pile of crates behind them, his hands gripping her waist with a force he didn't measure. Hibana gasped under the pressure, surprised, but didn't push him away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, responding with the same intensity.

However, the moment quickly changed.

His movements, as they lost control, became firmer, more urgent. His fingers dug into her skin, his movements became abrupt. He spun her around, this time pinning her against a makeshift table. The wood creaked under the weight, and Hibana let out a small cry of protest.

"Easy," she murmured, a mixture of excitement and unease in her voice.

But he didn't slow down. For him, it was an escape, an outlet for everything he felt. Every gesture was charged with an intensity that he could no longer control. Hibana tried to bring him back to her, her hands on his face, but her efforts were in vain.

Another image imposed itself on him: that of Jinx. Or rather, of Powder. Not the one he knew today, but the alternate version, an innocent version. He remembered that particular moment, a twisted memory, when she had looked at him with wide, almost frightened eyes.

He saw himself again, in the parallel universe, the first time he had taken Powder in that way, when they still had that innocence, before madness destroyed everything. Before everything became a spiral of violence and manipulation. In this other world, everything was different: him, less broken; her, less marked by her demons. Their relationship, healthier, more stable. But despite that, he had acted in a similar way. He remembered Powder's shocked and terrified look, her tears that weren't tears of pleasure, but of confusion and fear. She didn't understand why he was acting like this. Why she, his love, didn't like it. Why he had forced her to submit in this way. He had thought it was the same thing, that it was what she wanted, just like Jinx. Because Jinx had wanted it, and Jinx had loved it, right? He had thought that all relationships, all caresses, all violence could be experienced in the same way. But he had been wrong.

But Powder was not Jinx. She wasn't looking for pain or destruction in their exchanges. She had been shocked by his violence, by this habit he had taken with Jinx, which confused pleasure and chaos. And this time, he had seen the truth, the pain in her eyes. She didn't want that. She had wanted something else. Something pure, something real. But Ekko, blinded by his desires and the spiral of violence he had experienced with Jinx, had not seen the incomprehension that was appearing on her face.

This memory came back to him like a slap. However, he continued, as if pushing the limits had become a reflex.

Hibana let out a moan, half pleasure, half pain.

— "Ekko..." His voice wavered, and this time, he stopped for a moment, realizing the red imprint of his fingers on her hip.

— "I... sorry," he stammered, taking a step back.

She caught her breath, her cheeks red. But against all odds, she pulled him towards her again.

— "Keep going," she whispered, almost in defiance. "I can take it."

Her gaze troubled him: she seemed sincere, but there was also something else, an attempt to prove something, to him or to herself.

He nodded, despite the lump in his stomach. He continued, more slowly this time, but the tension did not leave him. Each movement seemed accompanied by flashes of Jinx, of their toxic exchanges, of this vicious circle where they confused love, hate and destruction.

Hibana, she let him do it, despite a few grimaces. Maybe she saw it, this invisible weight he carried. Maybe she wanted to help lighten it, or maybe she was just looking for a fragment of intensity in her own monotonous life.

When it was over, Ekko stood still, his breath short, his hands shaking slightly. Hibana straightened up, adjusting her clothes. She glanced at him, half curious, half disturbed.

—"Is it always like this with you?" she asked, a faint smile on her lips, but not maliciously.

He didn't answer.

Silently, he grabbed his jacket and the shadows of the night quickly swallowed him up, but the ghosts didn't leave him.

---

The next morning, Ekko woke up in a dim light, his head heavy, as if the weight of the previous night had soaked into his bones. He only remembered bits and pieces of what had happened with Hibana, but the feeling of shame, of confusion, was still very much there. His fingers brushed the skin of his arm, marked by the imprint of the violent gestures he had not controlled. He felt like he was no longer himself, like another version of what he was supposed to be. Guilt crept into every part of his body, but he had neither the time nor the will to face it completely. He stood up with difficulty, his thoughts turned to the conversation he would have to have with Scar. They had always had a somewhat strained relationship, but Scar had seen things that no one else knew, things that Ekko had not wanted to face. He knew that Scar had guessed part of his history with Jinx, maybe he even knew more than he wanted to admit. The truth, even if it remained buried, was already palpable in the air around them.

Ekko headed toward the Firelights camp, his steps heavy and slow, each movement accompanied by that feeling of emptiness. He passed by a few members of the group, but their glances, their murmurs, failed to touch him. He knew that the party the day before had already been commented on, and he had no desire to face the curious or reproachful glances. Scar, however, was another story.

Their reunion was as abrupt as it was expected. Scar was waiting for him in a secluded area, his arms crossed and a smirk. He seemed to already know everything that had happened, as if he had been watching from afar, as he often did.

"So... was the party okay?" Scar asked casually, but his eyes betrayed some understanding.

Ekko didn't answer right away. He ducked his head, searching for words, but all he felt was a mixture of frustration and shame. He knew he couldn't lie to Scar, not this time.

"You already know, right?" Ekko finally muttered, looking up to look at Scar. There was something shifty in his gaze, something broken. Scar approached slowly, as if to better take in the extent of the damage.

"Of course I know," Scar said, his voice deepening a little. "Do you really think I haven't seen you? How you've been acting lately, running away from everything, even yourself? It was obvious you'd try to drown it in alcohol and... some other bullshit." He shrugged, a slight smirk on his lips. "You're not as subtle as you think, Ekko."

Ekko looked at him with a mixture of anger and confusion. He didn't need that. Not now. Not with what he'd just been through. But Scar didn't back down.

"You're still full of Jinx, huh?" Scar said the sentence with a hint of harshness. He knew it would make him react. He knew that the name Jinx had this power to shatter the walls Ekko had built for himself.

Ekko took a step back, as if the air around him was growing heavier. He clenched his fists, fighting against the rising anger that burned in his gut. "I don't need your advice, Scar."

Scar didn't seem to let it faze him. He stepped a little closer, his gaze hardening. "You're not alone in this, Ekko. But you want to play the hero all by yourself. You think drowning yourself in violence and alcohol will help you? You think you'll forget?" He paused, letting Ekko digest his words. "I saw you with Hibana last night. And believe me, it's not the first time I've seen you destroy what's left of you. You don't understand, or you don't want to understand."

A nasty shiver ran through Ekko. He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze shifting. "I know what I'm doing." His words seemed empty, as if he were saying them to convince himself. "You don't understand. You haven't seen what... what I've been through. What I'm carrying."

Scar stared at him for a moment, then burst into bitter laughter. "You think I don't know that?" He shook his head, his voice hardening. "You've seen horrors, you've lost people, but that doesn't give you the right to destroy everything around you." He stepped closer, now standing very close to Ekko, as if he were trying to read every fragment of his soul. "And Hibana, have you thought about it? She's not Jinx, Ekko. She's not who you want her to be."

Ekko froze. Jinx's name, once again, struck his heart like a blade. He felt his stomach twist, a wave of pain invade him. He turned away quickly, trying to contain the rise of his anger and emotions. But Scar, merciless, insisted.

"You're just a kid hiding behind old demons," he said harshly. "You want to help Zaun? You want to save Piltover? Then stop pretending to be someone you're not. Be a fucking leader. But you can't do that while you hide in your past." The silence fell, heavy and oppressive, and Ekko let the truth of those words wash over him. Scar was right, he knew it. He wasn't ready yet. Not ready to face what he had become. He wasn't ready to give up his demons.

He closed his eyes, clenching his fists. "I'm going on a mission, okay?" He didn't say anything else, as if to end the conversation. He had no choice but to leave, to continue, even if it meant ignoring the pain that was eating him.

Scar nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You'll do what you want. But remember, Ekko, you're not alone. If you really want Zaun to change, start by changing yourself."

Ekko turned away, leaving the conversation without another word. He knew Scar was right. But he wasn't ready yet. Not yet.

--

The wind was beating against the windows of Mel's office, a light breeze that brought with it the sound of a Piltover still in motion. Ekko, arms crossed and staring into the horizon, stood still. He had a role to play. A mission. But every fiber of his being hated him for it. He wasn't meant to be a pawn in Piltover's intrigues, or to slip into cracks where lies intertwined with secrets too big for him to digest. Yet he had no choice. This was his chance to get to the root of what was plaguing him: Swain, Piltover's mysterious and ever-present advisor. Mel entered, followed by a few guards who didn't even bother to mask their hostility toward the man they thought was "a simple man of Zaun." Ekko felt their presence, their cold stares, and anger rumbled in his belly. He had learned to ignore such things, but it didn't make the situation any easier. These men of Piltover, often too full of their own importance, reminded him every day of the cruelty of their system. Their impeccable uniforms, their closed, haughty faces... everything about them made him uneasy. He wasn't cut out to play by their rules.

"Are you okay? We leave in a few hours," Mel said, breaking the silence.

Ekko turned his head slowly toward her, a defiant glint in his eyes. "That's what you asked me to do." He stared at her, as if testing his own mastery. "To assume a role."

Mel nodded, as if she knew what he was feeling. "You'll do more than that. You'll impersonate Vincent Hale," she said, pointing to a document lying on the table, a folder with a photo of a prominent man on the Piltover Council. "A man of influence. He's connected to Swain. His connections allow him to frequent the circles where real information circulates. We need you to be him."

Ekko stared at the image for a moment. Hale was a tall, imposing man with a hard gaze. He was one of Piltover's most respected advisors, but also one of its most secretive. He was known for his discretion, but his connections to influential factions in the city were numerous. This was the opportunity Ekko had been waiting for, but he took no joy in it. Hale embodied everything he hated about Piltover, the arrogance and coldness of the system, and Ekko was going to have to be a part of it, at least for a while.

"So I'll be him for this ball, and for what comes after?" Ekko asked, a hint of contempt in his voice.

Mel didn't answer right away. She knew what she was asking wasn't easy. Ekko had grown up hating the arrogance and injustice of the rich and powerful. The Piltover guards, their heads full of certainties, always reminded him of the divide between him and them. But Mel was right. He had no choice but to blend into their world to extract information. "Yes, everything you do, you do it as Hale. Nothing less." Ekko closed his eyes for a moment, chasing away the anger that was rising inside him. This hatred for Piltover, for their privilege and superior airs, he had to stifle it. This was the mission. To suppress his own rage. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, but each time it was harder. He had never liked these social evenings where he was a "guest", and even less when he had to play a role he didn't like. But here, it was necessary.

A few hours later, they found themselves in the aerodynamic aircraft that would take them to Demacia, a private transport reserved for the highest dignitaries of Piltover. The guards who accompanied them remained at a distance, their presence impassive, just like that of Ekko who had hidden himself under Hale's mask. His black suit, well-tailored, his air of superiority, his haughty look, everything was perfect. If one did not know him, he could have passed for one of them.

He felt the tension in the air. As he boarded the aircraft, he passed the familiar faces of the Piltover guards, these men and women who looked at him with suspicion. They did not understand. Why was a man like him here, with them, pretending to be one of them? He was too young, too strange, too... Zaun.

But he ignored them. None of that mattered. What mattered was what was happening in the shadows, behind the scenes where Swain pulled his strings.

A few hours of flying later, they arrived in Demacia, where a charity ball hosted by Piltover's elite awaited him, an event that would attract many important figures, but it was also the perfect opportunity for Ekko to spy discreetly and find the clues he was looking for. The ball would be a diversion, a time when everyone would let their guard down. There, in this sea of ​​opulence and fake smiles, Ekko would search for Swain. And he wouldn't stop until he had answers.

But before that, he had to once again suppress the anger that was boiling inside him at the thought of this world he hated.