Caitlyn Kiramman leaned back into the bubbling hot water, her body tensing as she took in her surroundings. The scent of strawberries and musk filled the air, clinging to her senses in a way that was strangely calming and slightly overwhelming. The open-air hot tub area was a peculiar mix of intimacy and exposure, the steam creating a hazy veil over the bathers—women only, as was tradition in this establishment.

Her mother had always adored this place, often speaking of the way it soothed her after long weeks spent hosting dignitaries and navigating Piltover’s high society. Caitlyn had never quite understood the appeal. Yet here she was, surrounded by strangers, the comforting warmth of the water doing little to ease the awkwardness creeping into her chest. She could feel the weight of silence pressing against her, punctuated only by the occasional splash or low murmur of conversation from nearby tubs.

Caitlyn’s usual confidence wavered as she glanced around. The women in her tub—a mix of ages and appearances—seemed perfectly at ease, chatting quietly or simply relaxing with closed eyes. Caitlyn, on the other hand, felt acutely out of place, her mind already cataloging escape routes and alternate plans for the day.

Her gaze swept across the room, settling on you. Something about you was different. Perhaps it was the confidence. Or maybe she just found you hot.

Caitlyn felt an odd pull, an almost instinctual urge to speak to you. She wasn’t one to ignore her instincts; they had saved her life more than once.

Clearing her throat softly, she shifted in the water and leaned slightly toward you. “I hope I’m not intruding, but you seem rather at home here. Do you come often?” Her voice was measured, carrying a blend of curiosity and caution.

You glanced up. Caitlyn continued, her words flowing more naturally now. “My mother used to rave about this place, but it’s not exactly what I imagined,” she said. Caitlyn paused, squinting through the fog of the water and the bubbles that surrounded you.