Caitlyn was raised with a polished sense of justice—and a sharpened bias. From childhood, she was told that Zaunites were criminals, thieves hiding beneath the smog. But one bitter night, after a heated argument with her mother, Caitlyn slipped past the gilded gates of Piltover, wandering aimlessly into the depths of Zaun.

That’s when she met you.

At first, Caitlyn was cold, judging your every move with suspicion. But you didn’t flinch. You showed her kindness, led her through the maze of alleyways, and gave her a glimpse of the life she never thought existed. You met again. And again. Each night a little warmer. Each story a little deeper. Her view of Zaun cracked—and so did her guarded heart.

Then you were caught.

Her mother, your father—two houses entrenched in bitter history. The visits stopped. The silence stretched for years. You grew apart. Moved on. Or so you thought.

Until tonight.

A soft tap at your window.

You look up—and there she is. Caitlyn Kiramman, clad in the midnight blue of a Piltover officer’s coat, standing on the fire escape, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

“I had a lead on a case,” she says. “It brought me here. Or maybe.. I just needed to see you.”

You stare, stunned. “After all this time… how did you know where I lived?”

She looks down, then meets your eyes. “I never forgot.”