There was confidence in his words. Because in the empty apartment, only the walls and reflections echoed his words. And they responded with silence.

He heard the crisp clash of keys, only a door away. Not a second to waste, Ike hid the Z-drive under the table and covered it with a black cloth. He didn't want them to worry about himself, after all, he was doing something unruly with an unstable Hextech time control device.

The door opened, and Ike's parents came home for the first time tonight. They had almost become strangers to their own son's eyes, and work had made them haggard and old, especially in the weeks since Ike had last seen them both at the same time. Everyday life is monotonous and boring. They'd come home with heavy strides, using the day's paycheck to buy a modest meal, saving money to pay taxes and tie things up, and then they'd fall asleep in a chair with their chin on their chest, until Ike helped them take off his boots and help them to bed.

Today the bags under their eyes seemed to be extremely heavy, making them hang their heads. Her mother carried a small paper bag in one arm, the top of which was tied with a rope.

"Hello, my little genius. His mother pulled herself together, trying to make her tone look elated. However, when she saw her son sitting at the table waiting for her to come home, no one could pretend to be happy in her eyes.

"Mom, Dad, you're back. "It's been too long for a family of three to sit together. He felt a little embarrassed, and he should have said something more important.

His father kept his face tense and maintained his dignity, and then, with a look of reproach, combed his son's mohican hair with his hand. Ike struggled to remember what his father had been like before he was old. His hair hadn't begun to fall back then, and his forehead hadn't had so many wrinkles.

"I should have told you to shave your head," his father said. "This hairstyle will make you stand out too much in the academy in Leather City. Only the Workshop Forest allows you to do this. They take everything, but you're no ordinary person. How's your school application going?"

This is the moment that I was waiting for. Ike felt that the dialogue he had just practiced was already on his lips. But the hope in his father's eyes prevented him from speaking.

His mother broke the silence before him.

"We've got something good for you. She said as she placed the small paper bag on the table. They moved closer to their chairs and watched expectantly as Ike reached out and carefully untied the knots, laying the two cords flat beside them. Then the oil paper was slowly unfolded again, and there was not a single tear in it. In the middle of the oiled paper is a sweet loaf of bread, coated with honey and sprinkled with amber nuts. This pastry must have been bought from Elaine's house. Her baking is the best in all of Zuan, and the price is just as good. Ike and his companions often steal her family's sweets from rich people who pay without blinking an eye.

Ike looked up at his parents in surprise. Their eyes lit up. "It's too extravagant. He said. "We need to buy meat, we need real dinner, we don't need dessert. ”

"We'll never forget your name day," his father said with a smile. "But it looks like you forgot about it. ”

Ike doesn't remember what day it was. But even if it's a name day gift, this dessert is still too extravagant. And their hopes for him were about to be shattered by him. Ike's guilt began to congeale in his throat. "If we fall behind on our rent again, the landlord will pull our heads off. ”

"You don't have to worry about that. You should have eaten something good today," his mother said. "Come on, have dessert for dinner, once a year. ”

"And what do you eat?"

"I'm not hungry. She said.

"I ate in class" has more details on his father's lie. "Cheese and meat, leather goods. Good stuff. They watched as Ike took a bite of the cake with the tip of his tongue. His mouth overflowed with the sweetness of honey and cream, and the crumbs of rich sugar stuck to his fingertips. The ingredients are rich and flavorful, and they linger in his mouth. Ike cut the cake into thirds, but his mother shook her head. She hummed the name day song softly, knowing they wouldn't share the cake. It was a gift from his parents.

His father was supposed to sing the name song together, but he was asleep, sitting in a chair with his chin against his chest. Ike looked at his mother, her eyelids starting to fight, and the melody in her mouth gradually changed to a faint snoring.

Ike envisioned a future in which he envisioned himself continuing to live in the Workshop Forest, earning a barely subsistence salary, benefiting another city and achieving the glory of others. Now he couldn't swallow the thought. He recalls hearing the words he heard as a baby, and his parents wanted to dream of inventing and working in the family. They want to change the world and contribute to the future, and all their dreams and hopes have been rewritten because of the birth of their son. Ike knew that now he was their only hope. But he loved the life of Zaun. If he does what they want, then who will take care of them and who will take care of his friends?

He couldn't crush their dreams. Not tonight, not on Name Day. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Ike took his first bite and never touched the cake again. Instead, he unleashed the Z-drive, and his home turned into a swirl of colored dust. The monotonous rhythm of the usual day came to an abrupt end. The moment split into countless fragments, enveloping him in a swirl of light. As the fragments of the future gradually become a thing of the past, Ike's parents return home for the second time tonight. There will be a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and more to come.

Ike didn't change anything with each look, his mother's eyes full of anticipation, his father's proud smile as he fell asleep. But Ike resisted the sleepiness, savoring these stolen moments over and over again, endlessly, until at last he fell into the gentle voice of his mother, immersed in the warmth of the little home, and gradually fell asleep with this wordless lullaby.

It's a day like a year.

Despite his humble beginnings as a plague rat, Tucci has become a connoisseur of filth with his passion, and he doesn't mind getting his paws dirty. He uses an alchemy-powered crossbow to aim at the gilded hearts of the people of Phicheng, vowing to let these people living in the upper cities know how filthy their true selves really are. He's always sneaking around, either rummaging around the gutter or digging into the human garbage heap elsewhere in search of discarded treasures...... Or a moldy sandwich.