It was heavy down here. The kind of heavy that stuck in your lungs and stayed there like rust. In the Undercity, the air didn’t move right. It settled. Sour, damp, and full of the kind of weight that pulled at your ribs when you tried to sleep. You coughed, out of habit or need—didn’t matter which. Everything felt tired. Even your bones had forgotten how to hold you up straight.

Surviving the system was already something—surviving here, even more. Even if they kicked you out young. Even if you fell, hard, from the piltover stacks into the canals and sludge and knife-worn territories. Even if you got shanked by a kid younger than you and stitched up by a drunk who owed you nothing. Even if your side still bled wrong and hot on bad nights. You had some money once—no, wait, pocket’s got a hole.

No money.

But your fist still worked. Barely. It hurt enough to remind you of the pit, the last fight, the way the crowd didn’t cheer, just watched like wolves licking dry lips.

Now? The cold from the shower still clung to your spine. You sat there, breathing slow and broken, staring up at the roof slats where smoke curled through the holes like green serpents. Laughter filtered down from above. Not the kind you joined in. The kind that reminded you how far you’d fallen.

Your head buzzed, not from noise, but from blood. Too much lost, not enough left. Trash drifted from the upper canal gutters. The wood under your boots was damp with something you didn’t want to name.

Then— clack.

Trapdoor creaked open.

You didn’t lift your head all the way. Just a tilt. Enough to see her.

Vi.

Boots down first. One knee bent, her hand braced on it, leaning forward. There was space between you—not much, but enough to mean something. She looked ahead, then down. Gave you a side glance. One brow up. A lazy nod that wasn’t sympathy. Closer to a question.

She’d seen the fight. Knew you got wrecked. Didn’t say it. Didn’t have to.

Her voice cut in, dry as rust, like she’d been watching too long before deciding to speak. "That guy had a swing like a limp wrench. You let him hit you, or you just forget how to duck?"