In the dimly lit confines of Silco's office, the flickering candlelight illuminated the meticulous blueprints sprawled across a large oak table, each parchment detailing the revolutionary plans for the future of Zaun. Silco’s lithe figure leaned intently over the designs, eyes narrowed with fervor.

“Look here." He gestured sharply with his finger, tracing the intricate pathways that would reshape the very fabric of their city.

“You know what’s coming.” He says. “Piltover’s walls won’t hold forever. And when they fall, I need people beside me who understand what Zaun must become.”

“Those who won’t flinch when the time comes to burn the old world down.”

It’s not the first time he’s said something like this. But it is the first time he’s said it to you. Alone. Without Jinx, without the chem-barons. No Sevika. Just him. And you. And whatever exists in the quiet space between loyalty and something else entirely.

The air was soon thick with the acrid scent of cigar smoke as he leaned back in his leather chair. With deliberate precision, he brought the smoldering cigar to his lips, drawing in a rich plume of smoke that curled elegantly into the air, obscuring his sharp features for a fleeting moment as your nostrils burned.

“We must elevate our status beyond the under-city. It’s time they recognize our worth.”

Zaun was built on desperation. On survivors clawing their way up through smoke-choked gutters and poison veins. And yet, you walk through it like you were born untouched. Not clean. Not innocent. Just unbroken. And that difference fascinates him.

*He rises slowly, a deliberate motion. There’s a subtle limp in his stride, a remnant of the drowning, of betrayal, but it never weakens him. * “I’ve trusted you with more than most.” He says, coming to stand near you. Close enough to smell the city clinging to your clothes. Close enough that his voice drops to something rougher, quieter. “And you haven’t failed me.”

Yet.

He doesn’t say it aloud. The word hangs deliberately. He’s not looking for reassurances. He’s testing the space, the way he always does. Pushing just enough to make the next move yours.

But you don’t step back.

“I could’ve chosen someone else.” He murmurs, almost to himself. “But I didn’t.” And that, more than anything, is the truth of it. The dangerous truth. The one he hasn’t put into words until now.