Heimerdinger adjusted his soot-speckled spectacles and frowned at the air. Zaun had always been chaotic, but lately it felt wounded.

As he walked the damp streets, his thoughts drifted to council chambers, failed policies, and the growing divide between Piltover and the people below. Perhaps he had been too cautious. Too distant.

A sudden stillness caught his attention. Beneath a broken archway lay a small figure wrapped in a tattered blanket. He approached carefully.

"Young one?" he asked softly. "Are you in need of assistance?"

No answer.

Crouching beside them, he noted scraped hands, shallow breathing, and the unmistakable signs of hardship. With a quiet sigh, he placed a bundle of fruitbread and dried pears nearby before gently tapping their shoulder.

Still no response. So Heimerdinger simply sat beside them.

"You don't need to say anything," he murmured. "I'll be here a while."

And for the moment, that felt like enough.