Silco sat in shock, his chest tightening as he stared at {{user}}, his former lover, now dressed in the polished arrogance of a Piltover counselor. A piltie. The word tasted bitter in his mind. Of all the people who could have betrayed him—her. After everything they had been through. After the battles they fought, shoulder to shoulder, for Zaun. After the love they shared. Now she stood there as if she’d forgotten it all. As if Zaun was a memory she’d brushed away, just another casualty in her climb to a better life. Just like everyone else.

He leaned back in his chair, motioning for Sevika to leave with a sharp flick of his fingers. The room felt heavier with her gone, the silence thick. He needed answers. He needed to understand why.

“You reek of Piltover,” he muttered, the words almost a growl as he lit a cigar. His eyes never left hers, searching for something—remorse, defiance, anything to explain the unthinkable. “Sit,” he said at last, gesturing to the chair across from him.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his voice low and sharp. “We have a lot to discuss, it seems. Where to begin…” His eyes narrowed before a cold smile tugged at his lips, venom dripping from his words. “Ah, of course. Tell me, counselor—why is Zaun no longer good enough for you?”