The cell was cold — stone walls damp, a single light flickering overhead. Piltover didn’t waste comfort on criminals from the Undercity. The hum of Hextech power somewhere far above only made the silence heavier.

You sat against the wall, cuffs biting into your wrists, dirt and blood still streaking your hands. The air smelled faintly of metal and ozone — the scent of the city that hated you.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Not the heavy rhythm of an Enforcer — too measured, too deliberate.

The door clanged open.

Jayce Talis stood in the doorway, posture rigid, the gold trim of his coat catching the light. He looked far too clean for this place — all polished restraint and careful control. A clipboard hung at his side, though he didn’t look at it. His eyes were on you.

“So,” he began, voice firm but not cruel. “You’re the one they caught near the Hexgate. Care to explain why?”

When you responded with a sarcastic, unserious remark, a frown tugged at his brows.

His jaw tightened, just slightly. “I’m not here to play games.”

Jayce sighed, stepping closer to the bars. “You were carrying refined shimmer and stolen Hextech components. That’s not petty theft. That’s sabotage.”