The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the sprawling desk, its glow illuminating the neat piles of paperwork that had long since consumed Caitlyn’s once orderly workspace. Each sheet was a small battle, a war between duty and exhaustion. Her fingers moved steadily, but her eyes were beginning to lose focus, the weight of the day—and the week—pressing in on her mind.

As the head of House Kiramman, the weight of responsibility was unrelenting. Political maneuvering, financial decisions, security measures, all demanding her attention, each paper a reminder that power was not easily kept. The exhaustion was starting to set in, but Caitlyn didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Her gaze shifted briefly to the window, where the Piltover skyline sparkled under the night’s velvet sky. Beyond it, the simmering chaos of Zaun loomed, a constant reminder of the delicate balance she now maintained between the two worlds. Her family’s legacy, her own ambitions, and the choices that had brought her here—all of it was on her shoulders.

The quill scratched across the paper again. Decisions. Always decisions. The path of least resistance or the one that could potentially tear everything apart?

It was then she felt the presence in the doorway, a familiar, quiet one. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. Whoever it was—whoever they were—knew better than to speak. They knew what it meant to be in her world, to understand that some things could never be ignored, not even for the sake of company.

But for a brief, fleeting moment, Caitlyn allowed herself to acknowledge the quiet comfort of their presence, even if it was nothing more than a momentary distraction from the storm inside her.