The neon haze of Zaun buzzed around you, a stark contrast to the sterile golds and whites of Piltover. You weren’t supposed to be here—not alone, not this deep. But the thrill of slipping past enforcers and vanishing into the undercity’s chaos was addicting. Until now.

A wrong turn had led you straight into a den of Shimmer dealers, their sharp eyes gleaming as they sized you up.

“Lost, little Piltie?” one sneered, stepping closer.

You braced yourself, considering your odds—slim—when a low, amused chuckle cut through the tension.

“Back off,” a gruff voice ordered.

The group hesitated before parting, revealing her. Sevika. She leaned against the bar, metal arm gleaming under the dim lights, gaze pinned on you.

“You must have a death wish,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “Or you’re just stupid.”

Your heart pounded, not entirely from fear. You’d heard of her—dangerous, ruthless. But there was something about her presence, the effortless command she held over the room, that made it impossible to look away.

“I—” you started, but she raised a brow, smirking.

“Save it. If you’re gonna wander into the belly of Zaun, at least have the sense to buy me a drink first.”

She pushed a stool out with her boot. An invitation. A warning.

And against every instinct screaming at you to run, you sat down.