Marvel: Playing Iron Man, Falling In and Out of Love with Jinx

"Just one last touch!"

Duke shook the spray can in his hand, listening to the rattle of the little metal ball inside. He pressed down on the nozzle and finished the final layer of paint on Walley.

Setting the can aside, Duke took a step back and admired the upgraded version of his creation.

Originally painted in red and blue, Walley now sported a sleek black and gold color scheme. The black formed the base, while the golden lines traced across the surface, accenting the machine with an aura that was both reserved and bold, a distinct, domineering presence.

The magitech engine at its back had been fully overhauled. Duke added an alchemy-powered core, and within the spring-driven system, he integrated hydraulic devices to amplify its power even further.

Beside him, Pride watched with glowing eyes, envious of Walley's new appearance.

"Father, I want one too…"

"No, you don't."

Duke shut down the request coldly. "You're already the most perfect creation I've made to date. Every system within you is already optimized. There's nothing left to upgrade."

"Besides, you have three forms. I'm only using the first for mobility. Your combat mode? Piltover is too peaceful for that. And as for the third form, I haven't had a chance to activate it, nor do I want to."

"Honestly, that third form, true Pride, even I find it terrifying."

"So, no upgrades for you. Maybe once you hit a bottleneck, we can talk."

In just a few words, Duke managed to douse Pride's fiery hopes of an upgrade.

"Alright then…"

Wiping the paint from his hands with a towel, Duke heard a knock at the door.

It was his private butler, specially arranged by Dakora to keep him from disappearing off the grid again.

"Come in."

"Sir."

The middle-aged butler, Garneau, dressed in a tailored tailcoat and white gloves, entered holding an envelope. He stood straight at the door, his eyes unwavering. "You received an invitation from a friend, sir. There's a banquet tonight, held at the Evolution Day Grand Hall."

"Heh, looks like they're taking the Hexgate pretty seriously."

Duke opened the invitation casually and skimmed it. After three days holed up in the lab, and with a voyage to Bilgewater starting tomorrow, he figured a little break wouldn't hurt.

"Prepare something formal for me to wear tonight."

"Sir, I believe a hot bath would also be advisable. You'll feel much more refreshed for the event."

"Alright, arrange it."

With a wave of his hand, Duke sent Garneau off. The butler gave a respectful nod and left.

Sitting at his workbench, Duke popped a malt candy into his mouth. "I wonder if there'll be anything good to eat tonight."

Half an hour later, freshly bathed and wearing a robe, Duke stepped into the adjacent room where an elderly man waited with a towel draped over one arm.

The old man's eye sockets had sunken deep; it was clear he was blind. His fingers were long and slender, but his knuckles thick, giving off a sense of power.

"Shall we begin, sir?"

Duke glanced at his hands and nodded. The man clearly knew his craft. Duke climbed onto the massage table without hesitation.

"Begin."

"As you wish."

The old man pulled out an incense burner, sprinkled in some herbs, and lit it. Fragrant smoke filled the room.

Soon, Duke felt the powerful fingers dig into the gaps between his muscles, expertly manipulating pressure points, kneading tired flesh. Every motion seemed to squeeze the fatigue right out of him.

Such techniques weren't learned overnight. This was the result of decades of practice.

The exhaustion that had built up in his body quickly melted away.

Nightfall.

The Evolution Day Grand Hall was brightly lit.

Typically only opened for Evolution Day itself, the hall served as a gathering place before the event's final keynote speeches. It gave noble families and guests from afar a space to mingle and network.

But on rare occasions, it was also opened in celebration of historic achievements, especially when a groundbreaking invention had been successfully unveiled. Tonight was one such occasion.

Gentle music floated in the air. Guests in formal attire held golden-stemmed wine glasses, gathering in groups to chat about recent news and gossip.

Creak!

The doors to the banquet hall opened.

Everyone looked toward the entrance. All the invited guests had already arrived. So who could be showing up now?

A young man in a tailored gray trench coat stepped through. The coat's hem flared slightly at the waist, rippling with each stride.

He handed his invitation to a waiting attendant and walked straight toward the buffet table.

After a massage and an afternoon nap, Duke was starving.

To him, banquets were for eating, drinking, listening to some music, maybe watching a few people dance, and then heading home. Simple.

As his direct behavior drew attention, a noblewoman in the crowd nudged the young girl beside her. The girl, with deep blue hair flowing down her back, looked reluctant but stepped forward.

"You're really going all in, huh?"

The teasing voice made Duke pause mid-slice through a roast pig. He turned to see Caitlyn, whom he hadn't seen in a while, dressed in a formal gown, her long blue hair sleek and smooth.

"Why not? Eat, drink, then leave. That's the point."

Unbothered by her sarcasm, Duke kept carving. Caitlyn glanced toward her mother, who subtly raised a glass to remind her of her task.

"Lady Gilmour sent you over, didn't she?"

Without needing an answer, Duke handed her a plate and continued eating.

"What do you think?"

Caitlyn jabbed her fork into the plate with frustration, eyes filled with repressed anger.

"My parents want me to follow the path they chose. But I don't want that."

"Ah, classic grown-up problems," Duke said between bites of pork. "Or maybe just teenage rebellion?"

"I just want to do something meaningful. Something I choose."

Her eyes sparkled with conviction. Duke shrugged. "Like I said, grown-up problems."

"You really never say anything useful. You were like this when I saw you at the council, and you're still like this now."

"I just don't care to spout pretty lies. Why waste time pretending with you?"

Finishing his meal, Duke wiped his mouth, completely indifferent to the looks of disdain around them.

Sometimes, caring what others think means you've already lost.

"I envy you. You can do what you want."

"So why don't you?"

Duke picked up a glass of fruit wine and led her to the balcony. The guests already there saw them coming and cleared the space with knowing smiles, giving the young pair some privacy.

"I want to. But you know my mother. She's... intense."

Caitlyn leaned on the railing, chin in hand, gazing out at Piltover beneath the night sky.

Duke thought about what little the story had revealed about her mother, Lady Gilmour, sharp, commanding, and absolutely in charge of the household. Her father, on the other hand, was a passive researcher, happy to let his wife call all the shots while he tinkered away in his lab.

No wonder Caitlyn had her share of little worries.

"So you're here because she sent you?"

Leaning against the rail, Duke watched her brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Yeah. Tonight might be Jayce's spotlight, but she says you're not someone to underestimate either. She thinks you're a real genius. The kind our family needs."

"Ah, the burden of excellence," Duke said shamelessly.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "So, Mr. Inventor, anything new on your workbench lately?"

"Sure. Built a cannon that can sink a ship, ammo designed for fighting shadow beasts, and a mechanical arm that lifts ten tons."

"Pfft. Keep dreaming."

"It's the truth. It just sounds like a lie."

Duke leaned back against the railing.

"So what do you want to do?"

"Me?" Caitlyn stared at the city lights and recalled an old competition, where someone had chosen not to win, for the sake of a greater duty.

"Maybe... a law enforcer."

"Use the skills I've trained since childhood to uphold justice."

"An enforcer, huh?"

Duke turned toward the city beside her. "Not bad."

"If you met my friend, you two might really get along. Same ideals, same fire."

"Your friend... you don't mean yourself, do you?"

"No. A girl. And trust me, she's got one hell of a temper."

End of chapter...

To be continued...

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