Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(For all who came here from Chapter 12 and for those who are starting out

Crawlin' back to you)

***

“Damn it,”

You cursed as another lockpick snapped inside the mechanism.

Easy job, huh?

Sure.

If you ran into Camille back at the base, you’d make sure to show her just how “easy” it had been.

The intel was solid—or so they claimed. One of the houses by the river had recently been abandoned under mysterious circumstances. Rumor had it the family fled across the bridge, fearing for their lives.

You remembered the house. Tall, with oddly protruding rooms jutting out at strange angles, as if the builder had suddenly decided to slap on an extra bedroom mid-construction. The plan was simple: get in, grab anything valuable, and offload it fast before someone higher up the food chain sniffed it out. You hadn’t asked where the tip came from—coin was coin.

Of course, they picked you for this gig. Who else? Sometimes, you regretted those boring afternoons when your father taught you how to pick locks. It was a handy skill, sure—so long as no one caught you red-handed.

“How much longer?”

“If you keep breathing down my neck, longer,” you snapped.

But he had a point. You didn’t know him—probably a fresh recruit, or maybe just one of those faces you passed daily without a second glance. The longer you stayed here, the higher the risk of getting caught. Whatever mess the owners had gotten themselves into with the Slickjaws, it was bad.

And the Slickjaws didn’t just let things slide.

Finally, the lock gave a familiar click. You exhaled through gritted teeth and grabbed the handle. Whatever was inside wasn’t your problem.

Your crew worked like clockwork—everyone had their task. No one got involved in the whole operation. You’d only met the rest of the team because the family had installed a fancy lock, the kind more suited to a Piltover estate.

Sure, you cracked it, but at what cost?

Time was precious, and you’d burned too much of it already.

A hand on your shoulder reminded you to get moving. You’d have to wait for your cut until the goods were sold.

The smell wafting from the open door made your skin crawl.

With a curt nod, you slinked back into the shadows. No one would notice you leaving; everyone here kept their heads down, their faces hidden—safer that way.

The streets of Zaun were never silent. Somewhere, someone was always yelling, fighting, or drowning themselves in booze—or shimmer. It had a strange smell: sweet, sticky, yet sharp with chemicals.

How could anyone drink that stuff?

You’d been tempted, sure, but the thought of losing yourself to it stopped you cold. Shimmer cost a fortune, and your meager earnings barely covered your rent. Adding another addiction? You might as well start selling yourself just to afford the next fix.

Not worth it. Not even close.

The farther you got from that cursed house, the better.

The stench lingered in your nostrils—familiar, yet your mind refused to connect it to any memory. The walk home should’ve taken thirty minutes, but you stretched it to nearly two hours, taking every detour to make sure no one was following. That prickling sensation at the back of your neck—it wouldn’t go away. You shivered and quickened your pace.

The only way to shake this feeling was to climb high—above the smoke and the suffocating air. Higher than any rooftop you’d called home. There was one place, far from your usual haunts, worth the risk.

It took you two hours to reach the other side of the city.

Without a watch, the rhythm of the night was your only guide, and you figured it was closer to dawn than midnight. If you timed it right, you might catch the sunrise.

The farther you ventured from the Lanes, the quieter it became—but also the more dangerous. Here, the risk wasn’t a broken nose or stolen coin. It was a quick death—or worse. You didn’t dwell on the rumors of cannibals lurking in these darkened streets. Probably stories to keep fools like you from wandering too far.

Your destination was an old tower, once a library.

Who read books in Zaun anyway?

The old caretaker had fled to Piltover when things got dicey, taking most of the collection with her. The building remained, abandoned. No one had claimed it—not yet, anyway.

The front doors were as locked as you’d left them. Glancing up, you checked to make sure no one had discovered the second entrance. You’d kept this place a secret. Nothing had been yours in years; survival meant moving constantly, fleeing in the dead of night with nothing but a backpack.

This tower was your last resort.

A few steps to the right of the doors, a hatch lay hidden beneath a layer of dirt. You scanned your surroundings, then tugged at the handle. The heavy lid groaned but didn’t scream—a relief. The dried branches you’d used to camouflage it were losing their leaves; you’d need to replace them soon.

You slipped through the narrow gap and dropped to the ground, coughing as a cloud of dust rose around you. Only when you were cut off from the moonlight did you feel the faintest sense of calm. Listening for a moment, you flicked on your flashlight.

The tower’s interior was as you remembered: vast and cylindrical, each floor narrowing as it spiraled upward. The design was meant to funnel sunlight through the enormous glass ceiling—now cracked but still impressive.

The silence was soothing, a balm for your frayed nerves. Back in the Lanes, you’d be struggling to fall asleep as the streets roared to life.

Here, in the stillness, you could think.

You could breathe.

Climbing the stairs was almost comforting. Months of scaling rooftops had made you nimble, and the dust-covered pages scattered across the floors brought a strange sense of peace. The untouched decay of this place made it feel oddly alive.

You hesitated at the door to the rooftop.

Something felt off—a knot tightened in your stomach.

Even a few deep breaths couldn’t shake it.

Pushing the door open with your forearm, you stepped into the cold night air.

The winds were stronger up here, sweeping away the city’s toxic haze. Breathing felt intoxicating, each gulp of clean air clearing your mind.

The view was breathtaking. The Lanes sparkled below, stretching toward the Rift and beyond. Somewhere out there lay places you’d never been—and probably never would. The idea of "reaching the top" wasn’t meant for someone born at the bottom.

That was a Piltover dream, not yours.

They tinkered with their inventions, indulging in fresh fruit, while you scraped by every day, buying leftovers from the tavern downstairs at half price. Not bad, but you doubted the quality of the ingredients.

Here, on the rooftop, you could finally be yourself.

The only listener to your thoughts was the wind—silent, ever-steady, and quick to carry your worries away without offering solutions. Not that you needed them. Speaking the words aloud was often enough to untangle the knots in your mind.

You perched on the edge, staring out at the cityscape. The tools in your pack needed cleaning before rust set in—a necessary chore. Reaching into a nearby crate, you pulled out a cloth and a bottle of water.

These tools were all you had left of your father.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you traced the engraving on one of the lockpicks. It was wearing thin with time, like the memory of his face.

Oddly, you didn’t feel grief anymore, nor anger.

Just emptiness.

That was all.

Shifting uncomfortably, you realized you were sitting on something hard. Reaching behind you, you retrieved a small firearm. Basic, nothing fancy. It had been a precautionary carry. Staring at it, the scent hit you again—familiar and sharp.

Gunpowder.

And then it clicked. That smell back at the house—it had been gunpowder all along.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. A flash lit up the skyline by the river, followed by the echo of an explosion.

***

“What exactly are you trying to tell me?” you snapped.

“Loot’s gone. Lay low for a while.”

Grabbing Camille by the wrist, you yanked hard. “You’re joking.”

She pulled back, irritation flashing in her eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“You can sing it for all I care. I want my cut. I did my job.”

“Everyone who went inside is dead. What part of that don’t you get? No crew, no haul, no cash.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. “That’s a load of crap.”

“Look, maybe we can talk at the base later. I might be able to scrape something together for you—”

“No.” Your voice dropped, cutting through her excuses like a blade. “You’re paying me now, or I take the rest myself and make sure James knows you blew it.”

Camille’s face paled for a moment before she regained her composure. Pulling a coin pouch from her vest, she began counting reluctantly. You swiped it from her hand and tucked it into your pocket in one smooth motion.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she barked.

“That’s for the job. And for my silence,” you said with a thin smile.

She didn’t know who she was dealing with. Camille was new, and you didn’t waste time sharing your history. Nobody needed to know you’d helped build this gang from the ground up. James wouldn’t question you showing up with proof of her failure, and she knew it.

As you headed home, the weight of the pouch in your pocket was a comfort. Enough for a few weeks. You could take a break, figure out your next move.

Your resolve wavered as the scent of roasted meat drifted from a nearby tavern. It had been too long since you’d had anything decent to eat. Impulse won, and you stepped inside.

The tavern was dimly lit, hazy smoke curling beneath the ceiling. It gave the place a perpetual sense of gloom. Behind the counter, the bartender—a stocky, middle-aged man with an unremarkable face—gave you a knowing nod. A face like his was safety: forgettable, unmemorable, and perfect for blending into the crowd. He was also the owner, and over time, he’d taken a liking to you.

“Feeling cheery today?” he asked, setting a drink in front of you.

“You could say that.” Tossing two coins onto the counter, you added, “Pour one for yourself.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” he chuckled. “Got something for you, by the way.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning over the counter to see what he meant. A swift tap on your head with a spoon stopped you short.

“Easy. It’s not dessert,” he said, setting a scrap of paper in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“Read it.”

It wasn’t from a newspaper or flyer. Too small for that. It looked like someone had torn it from a larger card and scrawled a few words across it.

The Last Drop. Evening. Today.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

“Take a closer look,” he said with mock indignation. “What’s stamped on it?”

Turning the card in the light, you noticed a faint insignia pressed into the paper. Almost invisible, it only became clear from a certain angle.

“No…” Your voice lowered. “Where did you get this?”

“You think all I do is pour drinks?” His grin widened. “Go. You won’t regret it.”

“You can’t seriously be telling me you work for him?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Your thoughts spiraled. You’d avoided The Last Drop for a reason: its leader was the most dangerous figure in Zaun. And now, your favorite bartender had revealed himself as one of his people, handing you what could only be an invitation.

“This isn’t a good idea,” you said, pushing the card away.

“I gave you this because I know what you can do.” He raised a hand to silence your protest. “Don’t think for a second I don’t know what you’ve been up to at night.”

“W-what?”

“I knew the moment you opened that door for me. You’re sharp. Go. Prove me right.”

Your heart raced as the implications of the invitation sank in. Something significant was happening at the Last Drop that night, and by some twist of fate—or deliberate intervention—you had been invited.

Was this a random chance, or had someone taken notice of you, offering a lifeline to a new, more dangerous path?

It was both intoxicating and terrifying.

A new chapter under the shadow of a powerful gang could mean danger, excitement, and better pay than your recent scraps had earned.

But was it worth the risk?

“Do you know anything more about this?” you whispered, clutching the note.

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” the bartender replied, leaning over the counter with a sly grin. “You can skip it and go on with your life, or you can see if you’re really cut out for something bigger. Either way, you’ll regret not going.”

You hated that he was right.

With a crooked smile, you sipped your drink, trying to steady your nerves. Fear of failure wasn’t what gnawed at you—it was the fear of what kind of people might be waiting inside. But if you had been invited, how bad could it really get?

You studied the bartender’s unassuming face, seeking any clue that might betray his deeper involvement. He seemed the same as always, but now that you knew who he really worked for, your perspective shifted.

A smuggler?

A recruiter?

Maybe both.

You stared long enough to bore holes into his back, but he simply hummed a cheerful tune, ignoring you.

There were still hours before evening fell. You decided to bide your time, bantering lightly to calm your nerves.

***

You had never set foot in this part of Zaun.

Ever since Silco took over, the area had transformed into a pulsating hub of lights and sounds, a seductive yet intimidating beacon of his dominion.

Nobody came here just for fun.

Everything that happened at the Last Drop had purpose—intent that was rarely benign.

A nondescript man stood by the entrance, scrutinizing those who approached.

You observed him from a distance, leaning against the wall of a nearby building. Doubts swirled in your mind, but curiosity eventually overpowered hesitation.

Pushing off the wall, you approached the doors, bypassing the line of hopefuls.

“What do you want?” the guard growled, eyes narrowing. Without a word, you held up the note. He barely glanced at it before jerking his head toward a side alley. “Back entrance.”

A shiver ran down your spine—not from fear, but adrenaline.

You felt alive, invigorated by the risk.

The alley reeked of urine, and you gagged, pressing a sleeve to your nose. The back door was slightly ajar, inviting but ominous.

Quietly, you slipped inside, each step a gamble against unseen danger.

How many people would be here? And what if this was a trap?

You acted alone—an ant compared to the gang leaders, but enough to have stepped on someone’s toes.

You froze mid-step. Could the bartender have known what you’d done the night before? Or did he genuinely believe in your potential?

Voices drifted from the next room, accompanied by a dim blue glow. You stayed in the shadows, slipping in unnoticed. Hugging the wall, you observed. You weren’t the only latecomer—a boy entered after you, just before the door slammed shut.

The murmurs rose to a buzz, but you scanned for exits instead of listening. A small window on the far wall caught your eye. If things went south, it might be your only way out.

You edged toward a chair and dragged it under the window under the guise of seeking a better view.

“Listen up, dimwits, because I’m not repeating myself!”

A loud voice cut through the room, commanding attention. A single blue bulb above illuminated a tall figure.

“You all received invitations. Prove you’re worth our time, and you’ll join the crew. Your task? Find something at the site of the first shimmer factory. Whoever brings it back first is in.”

“What are we looking for?” someone called out.

“If I have to spell it out, you’re already out,” the man sneered. “Now get to work.”

With a dismissive clap of his hands, he turned to leave. The crowd erupted, frustration bubbling into shouts and arguments. You ignored them, focusing instead on a faint hiss and a glint in the corner of the room. Narrowing your eyes, you pulled out a small flashlight and aimed it at the source.

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath.

A gas canister sat ominously in the corner, leaking its contents into the air.

Panic stirred in the crowd as the first coughs began to ring out.

You wasted no time.

Clambering onto the chair, you fiddled with the window’s rusty lock. It resisted at first, but you forced it open just as the murmurs turned to cries of alarm. Fresh air hit your face as you wriggled through the gap and tumbled onto the street.

The guard from earlier stood nearby, casually donning a gas mask. His unbothered demeanor spoke volumes: he knew exactly what was going on. Glancing back at the building, you saw chaos spreading inside.

You had the advantage now.

While the others panicked, you bolted toward the ruins of the factory.

What exactly was waiting there? You weren’t sure, but if this was a test, you intended to pass it.

The ruins were a skeletal reminder of Vander’s downfall, a grim monument to Silco’s rise. Your memories of the place were foggy. After the fire, anything of value—documents, shimmer samples—had been salvaged or destroyed. Whatever you were meant to find must have been planted recently, part of this elaborate trial.

But what could it be?

Shimmer itself seemed unlikely, as did any surviving artifacts from the fire.

It had to be a decoy or a symbol, something to test your cunning.

What could Silco want in a recruit?

You thought back to the crowd—burly bruisers, sly thieves, and everything in between.

Not all of them could be after the same prize.

And yet, here you were, running for a chance at something bigger. 

Well, there was no point in thinking about it and wasting energy.

You were confident, and you treated this more like a challenge than a job offer. If it didn't work out, you could always go back to James. If it did, you'd have a new, better-paying position.

Maybe that's why, since you didn't care as much as the others, you were the first to escape the trap. You didn't hear footsteps behind you. They might have taken a different route, or they might have been lying dead.

Either way, you were inexorably approaching the factory.

It felt strange to see the symbol of change and feel absolutely nothing. You should have been sad that Vander was dead. You should have been angry that Silco had taken power, but instead, you felt emptiness.

No matter what had happened here, it hadn’t affected you. Your life hadn't changed at all. You still stole and picked locks on commission. Did it really matter who you were doing it for?

The factory loomed ahead, emerging from the mist like a ghost waiting for a victim. A chill ran down your spine as the first raindrops hit the dock boards shortly after you stepped onto them. You needed to catch your breath before going inside.

You had lost your vigilance.

The pounding blood in your ears had masked the footsteps behind you.

Suddenly, someone kicked you in the side, and you nearly ended up in the dirty water.

A girl in loose pants with a determined look briefly stopped next to you, hit you, and then ran on toward her goal. Your heart pounded, pumping more adrenaline into your veins. You clenched your fists and ran after her.

Suddenly, you cared.

She was the first to grab the handle and pull the door toward her. You saw only the dark ponytail disappearing behind the door when something heavy fell onto it.

You yanked at the handle, but it was as if the door was nailed shut. You swore loudly and stepped back a few paces.

Far above, there was a glass roof, which had collapsed almost completely during the explosion. You could get in that way. The broken bricks made for perfect climbing, but the rain had made them dangerously slippery.

Did you have a choice?

Soon, a whole gang would be charging in, searching the factory. Damn, you really started to care about this job.

It was worth the risk.

You climbed as fast as you could, as quickly as the conditions allowed, but it still took several minutes. You hoped you were smarter than that girl and that you would be the first to reach the treasure.

From above, you had a much better view.

And the view was staggering.

Glass scattered across the floor still faintly glimmered purple from remnants of shimmer. You were glad you were up high.

Below, your opponent was peering into every corner, searching for the prize.

Not long after, as you’d predicted, people began pouring in through the windows and other doors. You crouched on a beam and focused your thoughts. This wasn’t obvious, and whatever the goal was, it definitely wouldn’t just be lying around.

You furrowed your brow. Nothing jumped out at you. You should start searching other rooms, but below, chaos was breaking out.

When the first blood was spilled, you silently thanked your climbing skills.

A young boy, only a little older than you, rushed out of a room below, holding something that looked like a silver statuette. Another man spotted it and grabbed the boy by his hair, throwing him to the ground. The unconscious kid dropped the item, and the giant snatched it up for himself.

Was this it?

Had you just lost?

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene below.

People were jumping at each other. Blades flashed, and the first screams rang out. The statuette passed from hand to hand—only the strongest would win.

It was terrifying.

You wanted the money, but you hadn’t thought that working for a vile gangster would drive people to such extremes.

Had you missed something? Maybe it was about more than just a job.

You turned your gaze away from the sight of the girl who had outrun you with her throat slit. If you had been down there, you could have been bleeding out.

Slowly, you began to retreat.

Since the prize had already been found, and the opportunity had been stolen right from under your nose, you could just wait it out. Staying where you were risked losing your life. You covered your ears with your hands, waiting for the last screams to fade into the empty walls. You preferred not to look down. Whatever happened there, you wanted to erase it from your memory.

Of course, the big, muscle-bound thug won. Proud of himself, he wiped the blood from his cheek and grabbed the figurine with his slick hands. Whistling to himself, he walked out into the rain.

You hoped you'd never get in his way.

You couldn’t go back the same way.

It was too slippery.

On the opposite side of the building, you noticed part of a floor. The beams were low enough that you wouldn’t break your neck jumping. Well, maybe just an ankle. But you had to get home somehow.

The closer you got to the ground, the more the metallic smell of blood became palpable. The thought of the massacre made you sick.

“Well, I might as well take a look around,” you muttered as you pulled out the flashlight.

The light flickered on briefly and then went out. You hit it a few times with your hand, but it didn’t seem like it wanted to work. It slipped from your wet hands and rolled down the railing. Maybe it was faulty, but it was the only one you had.

You sighed loudly, frustrated, and went after your lost light. It miraculously worked again, casting a beam directly onto a table that, strangely, had survived the fire.

Something about it seemed off.

It was wooden; it shouldn’t have been standing here.

The burned wood indicated the path the fire had taken. Whatever had exploded had started close to where you were standing. This piece of furniture should have turned to ash.

You approached it curiously, inspecting it from all sides. You ran your finger along the edge and didn’t register the layer of dust you had expected. There was something wrong with it. You held the flashlight in your mouth and slid your hands over every surface, searching for something unusual.

But there were no drawers or hidden compartments.

A slight disappointment pricked at you, but there was still one option left.

You lay on the floor, crawling underneath.

“Well, look at that,” you whispered, feeling a laugh building in your stomach.

A piece of paper and a ring were stuck to the underside of the tabletop. You glanced at it and, with satisfaction, saw a symbol similar to the one on the note you had received earlier that morning. You reached for the note, squinting as you read aloud:

"Good job."

***

The return to the Last Drop was filled with doubts.

You turned the ring over in your hands, thinking about it. Was this right? It really seemed like "the thing" you were supposed to find. Plus, the note and the fact that it had been stuck to the bottom of the table. Deep down, you felt that you had found the real prize.

What did that mean for you?

Money, yes, you kept repeating that every time. But you still had a chance to back out.

You didn’t have to go back and prove your skills to everyone. No, you didn’t have to, but you wanted to.

Damn it, you wanted to show them that you had outsmarted all those eager workers.

You also wanted to prove to yourself that you were worth more than the few moments James had graciously thrown your way.

You stepped out of the alley at the perfect moment. Or maybe the moment had been happening for some time, and you just caught the tail end of it.

The brute who had snatched the figurine from the dead boy’s hands was arguing with someone in front of the door. He waved his bloody hand around as if that would convince someone of the truth of his words. Walking in now and showing off your find was like sticking a stick into an ant nest. You preferred to wait it out and approach when you were sure you wouldn’t lose your life when the thug saw what you had.

You leaned against the wall, roughly in the same spot where you had waited for the right moment to climb down earlier. You scanned the people around you, looking for an easy opportunity to pass the time while the conflict at the door resolved itself. Something prompted you to glance upward.

It was a mistake.  

On the balcony stood none other than the great ruler himself – Silco.

With an impassive face, he watched as an impatient guard began to manually explain to the rowdy thug. And you observed him. It was the first time you had seen him with your own eyes.

Honestly, you expected someone more impressive than a thin middle-aged man. It was reckless of you to stare at him so openly, but what else were you supposed to do? You twirled the ring in your hand, trying to reconcile the rumors about the most dangerous man in Zaun with the image you had before you.  

Suddenly, Silco raised his head.

You felt that he was looking directly at your hands, or more precisely, at what you had in them. He raised his eyebrows and without a word went back inside.

A shiver ran down your spine.

But not from fear.

Curiosity was growing inside you, and that usually led to something foolish.

Soon after, the guards escorted the thug to the alley next door. A man came out from inside and waved his hand at you.  

"Got it?"  

You showed him the ring in the palm of your hand.  

"Tell me yourself,"  

He muttered something under his breath and turned his back on her.

With a gesture, he signaled for her to follow him. Inside, the music drowned out all other thoughts.

It was deafening.

You could feel that you wouldn't last long in there. You had never been inside, not even when Vander was alive.

This place was overwhelming.

The mass of lights and sounds infiltrated even under your clothes like persistent hands trying to steal something.  

"Tomorrow. Eight o'clock. Don't be late," the man who had led you inside shouted directly into your ear before pressing a token and a note with an address into your hand. "On our tab."  

He vanished into the crowd, leaving you no time to ask questions.

You felt a surge of pride, practically puffing your chest.

You turned the token over in your hand, thinking intensely. Part of you wanted to dash to the roof and escape, but another part needed to drown out your thoughts with alcohol.  

"What the hell," you muttered aloud and squeezed your way to the bar.  

When you showed the token without saying a word, you were handed something strong in a large glass.

It smelled nice and tasted sweet. For just this one evening, you could afford to be reckless.

You turned to face the crowd and slowly sipped the drink.

Gods, it was good.

The customers were already quite drunk or high. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw some purple flashes.

It was getting late.

At this hour, the worst traits came out in people. It was also a good time to slip away before a fight broke out. You weren't good at that.  

You hopped off the tall stool and began weaving through the crowd. You were tempted to reach into people's pockets, but you didn't know who was watching. This could be your territory soon enough, so it didn't make sense to make enemies.

When you reached the door leading to an empty stairwell, you decided it might be a good place to rest. If anyone asked what you were doing, you could always claim you were looking for that one guy.  

You still couldn't understand how this man, Silco, was able to hold almost all of Zaun in a firm grip when he looked... like that.

You shook your head.

Well, that wasn't for you to figure out.

You had a job now, that should be all that mattered. Yet, it didn't feel like that as you climbed the narrow stairs. There was something about the rooftops and open space that tempted you to the extreme. The ability to look at the world from a perspective outside the ordinary.

It was the perfect place to hide.

People rarely looked up.

You loved the different air that came when you climbed high enough.  

Lost in thought, you reached the metal door.

You could feel the cold creeping through the cracks. You had to get to the top of the building.

But why was it not secured?

Did that mean anyone could just walk in?

The alcohol hit your head, making your thoughts slow down. You glanced at your glass and, with horror, saw tiny purple specks at the bottom.  

Shimmer.  

"On their tab, sure..." you muttered, reaching for the handle.  

You needed to get out in the fresh air.

You had no idea what would happen after drinking alcohol laced with a drug, but you preferred not to be among strangers at that moment. If you could get your hands on the guy who gave you the token tomorrow...

You didn't have time to think further when your stomach rebelled and you threw up all over the floor in front of you.

You blinked twice, trying to regain focus, but it was in vain.  

The fresh – by Zaun standards – air pleasantly brushed against your face. You took a deep breath, feeling the dizziness slowly subside. You wrapped your jacket tighter and looked ahead. You were standing on a small balcony that didn't have all the railings installed.

You could grab the sides and lean forward.

Of course, you had no intention of doing that in your current state.

You sat on the edge and patiently waited for the worst to pass.  

When you were finally able to focus, you noticed something interesting. You and your curiosity, which would one day get you into serious trouble.

Below, to the right of you, there was a balcony where you saw Silco. An interesting experience. Of course, you weren't foolish enough to risk sneaking into his office, but this man fascinated you in an inexplicable way.

He was very different from the legends you had heard about him.  

Feeling slightly better, you decided to head back. The note said eight in the evening, so you had enough time to shake the last of the drug from your system.

The rain was still drizzling a little, but not as much as earlier. You yawned loudly and stood up.  

Then the wet roof tile slipped from under your feet.

You grabbed the railing, but everything was slippery from the water.

Your reactions were still slowed by the drug, so you didn't manage to react differently except by searching for something to grab onto in the air.

You slid down the steep roof and landed on something flat and hard. It stunned you for a good few minutes.

By the time you were able to get up and check if you had broken any bones, more seconds had passed. You struggled to catch your breath, hoping you hadn’t broken any ribs. First day on the job and already an injury.

Great.  

You grabbed the railing and hung on it.

Surprisingly, hanging with your head down actually helped and was even relaxing. It hadn't fully registered what had happened yet. The main thing was you were alive. You had fallen on something nearby; otherwise, you would have landed broken on the street in front of the bar.  

Oh hell.  

You snapped out of it in an instant.

To your horror, you saw a large window behind you, with typical office furniture beyond it.

Your legs buckled beneath you. If anyone saw you here, you were screwed.

You frantically looked around, searching for an escape route.

Ultimately, it would be better to jump than to be caught snooping on the owner's private balcony. You couldn’t go back the way you came, but you had to try.  

Or, you would have tried, had it not been for the characteristic click you heard behind you.

The sound of a pistol being cocked.

Was this the end for you?

You slowly raised your hands.  

"What are you doing here?"  

At the sound of his voice, you flinched slightly. You started to turn around, but a nudge in your back made you stop.  

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be here, but I can explain everything!" you began to apologize, hoping your words were faster than the bullet.  

"You have three seconds."  

"I work for you!"  

Silence rang in your ears.  

"I don't remember ordering anyone to guard this place. Try harder."  

" I fell," you said quickly, feeling how stupid it sounded. "I was feeling bad and was sitting higher up on the roof."  

"Either you're stupid, or someone made a serious mistake hiring you."  

You hadn’t quite processed the drug. It hit you with force, causing you to lose balance. You collapsed to your knees, leaning all your weight on your hands. This was not good, you couldn’t control your reactions, and now, more than ever, you needed a clear mind.  

"What’s going on?"  

Silco asked in a gentler voice this time.  

"I had... Shimmer in my drink," you croaked, feeling how dry your mouth was.  

"Just don’t die on me," he growled.  

You felt him grab your arm and sling it over his neck.

What you thought was the final phase of the drug was probably just the beginning.

Everything around you blurred.

You didn’t know who you were or where he was taking you.

You tried to protest, but only some incoherent mumbling escaped your lips.

Before you were completely cut off, you remembered the strong smell of tobacco surrounding you.  

Chapter Text

Waking up hungover was never pleasant.

You knew the feeling well.

Even though you rarely indulged to this extent, you were familiar with how your body would react.

It started with a headache accompanied by an unbearable dryness in your throat. Every movement triggered another wave of dizziness, and the best remedy was simply to wait it out. If you felt hungry, it was a sign that you were on the mend.

The problem was, you didn’t feel that.

Actually, you didn’t feel anything.

No side effects at all.

You should’ve been relieved—almost forgetting you had downed some vile concoction the previous day.

Somehow, shimmer had blocked the unwanted effects, and as soon as you opened your eyes, everything seemed normal. Instinctively, you reached for the bridge of your nose to refocus your vision, but you were surprised to notice that you could see the details quite clearly.

Clearly enough to recognize an unfamiliar ceiling.

You shot up into a sitting position, the blanket covering you sliding to the floor with a soft rustle.

Your mind was sharp, functioning as it used to—except for one glaring gap in your memory. Even your clothes were still on, exactly as they had been the previous day. No one had taken advantage of the situation, and you sighed in relief.

You had no idea when—or if—you would ever recover your memories of the night before.

You had blacked out right after...

“Oh, no…” you groaned aloud.

You clasped your temples, massaging them as if that might somehow help. What a disaster...

To make such a fool of yourself on the very first day. Assuming you still had a job at all.

“I see you’ve joined the land of the living.”

The voice belonged to the bouncer who had let you in yesterday. In the daylight, he looked different, and his tone was even friendly.

“Where am I?”

“Welcome to our humble quarters,” he replied with a grin, spreading his arms wide. “Cramped, but almost our own. This is the employee lounge at the Last Drop.”

You glanced around the room.

The gray walls, chipped in places, looked clean enough. You’d been lying on a couch upholstered in stiff, scratchy fabric. Someone had thrown a blanket over you that reeked of smoke.

Behind the man, you saw two others playing cards—a heavily built woman with her hair in a tight bun and a younger guy who looked downright terrified. They seemed accustomed to customers crashing on the communal couch; neither looked up from their game.

At least you were alive and didn’t feel like death—physically, anyway.

You swung your legs to the floor and started searching for your shoes.

You should get ready for your first day.

Your hair fell across your forehead, a sign that someone had tampered with it. A wave of nausea rose in your throat.

Maybe it was better not to remember.

“Slow down,” the bouncer said, grabbing your wrist. “Take a moment to steady yourself.”

“I need to get home,” you muttered, embarrassed by your own thoughts.

The man sighed and walked off, but moments later, you heard the sound of a chair being dragged. Still bent over your shoes, you saw him sit across from you.

With a deep breath, you glanced at him. His goofy grin suggested he was waiting for your next move. He was so different from the version of himself you’d met the previous day that you doubted he was the same person.

You shook your head and stretched your legs out in front of you, scanning the room for your backpack. It was nowhere to be seen. You fixed your gaze on the man, debating whether it was worth asking.

“Tell me… what happened? How did I get here?”

He pulled off his cap and scratched his head, his confidence fading. Clearly, he’d been hoping you’d start spilling details yourself, but the gaping hole in your memory was a gnawing void demanding answers.

“Eh... That’s just it. I don’t know. It was so weird, I’m not even sure I believe what I saw.”

Your stomach tightened with anxiety.

“Did I… do something?”

“That’s just it—you didn’t. This is the first time we’re talking since you walked into the bar. Listen to this,” he said, leaning in closer. “Swear on my mother, I’m not lying. The boss himself barged in here dragging you behind him. Dropped you off at the door and stormed off into the main hall, mad as a nest of hornets. Bea over there saw it,” he added, jerking his thumb toward the woman behind him. “Next thing you know, the bar door flies open, and my buddy’s tossing the bartender out like yesterday’s trash, landing a solid kick to boot. Quite the show, I’ll tell you. The boss personally threw him out on his ass. Then he came back here and told us to look after you.”

“Oh, hell,” you cursed under your breath, sucking in air through your teeth. “I’m so screwed.”

He watched you expectantly.

“And…?”

“I don’t know! Stop looking at me like that!” you snapped, slumping as if it were somehow all your fault. “I don’t remember anything from last night. Someone spiked my drink with shimmer, and then… nothing.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw traces of it at the bottom of my glass. Most likely the bartender,” you sighed, collapsing back onto the couch.

“Figures,” he muttered, running his fingers through his beard. “Listen, I know this sounds bad, but we’d suspected Mike was up to something shady. Sometimes we’d find strung-out customers on the couches, but it was never a big issue. Nobody could prove anything.”

You felt your blood run cold.

“You’re telling me someone’s been dosing unsuspecting customers with drugs right under your nose, and you think that’s no big deal?”

“I’m just the guy at the door,” he said defensively. “You think people come here just to drink?” He snorted loudly. “Don’t be naïve.”

“You’re all insane,” you muttered. “So that’s why… Silco…” His name caught in your throat. “...threw him out?”

“Yup,” he perked up. “But what’s strange is, he usually lets one of his lackeys handle that. Not this time. That’s why I was waiting for you to wake up.”

Great. Either you’d seriously messed up, or the thing you’d spent your whole life avoiding had happened. Someone noticed you. And it was the last person you wanted to have on your radar. Whatever had provoked Silco’s behavior couldn’t mean anything good—especially since it had rattled him enough to act personally.

“Sorry, I can’t help you,” you said, forcing a smile. “If I could just get my things, I’d be grateful.”

“What?”

“My backpack and jacket.”

The bouncer shook his head.

“You didn’t have anything with you when you got here.”

Fantastic.

Not only had you been drugged, but you’d been robbed as well.

A perfect start to the day.

Barging into Silco’s office to demand your belongings back would be suicide. Especially since your lockpicks were in there—they were valuable, but not worth your life. Marching into the lion’s den would be sheer stupidity.

You said your goodbyes to the staff at Last Drop and quickly fled the scene of the crime.

The farther away, the better.

The day was overcast, with the weather hinting at an impending downpour.

Again.

Without a jacket, you risked catching a cold, which wouldn’t improve your already precarious professional situation. You wanted to pull up a hood, but the painful realization struck—you were wearing nothing but a thin blouse.

The wind sneaked under your clothes, though its chill pleasantly soothed your irritated skin. Sleeping on that rough couch had left you feeling like you'd been feasted on by a swarm of bedbugs. Maybe you actually had—your bedding didn’t exactly scream "freshly laundered."

Despite everything, instead of heading straight home to wash off the remnants of the night, you made your way to the pub downstairs. Leon was, as usual, in his regular spot, bustling behind the bar while polishing second-rate glassware. The sight of you made him slam the glass down with a bang.

“Like seeing a ghost! I thought you were dead!” 

He stepped out from behind the counter to inspect you, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a thorough once-over. Annoyed by the loss of your belongings, you brusquely shoved his hands away.

“What’s with everyone today?” you rasped before slumping into your usual seat. “Got anything to eat? For free?” you added in a wavering voice.

“Rough night?” 

“Depends on your perspective,” you sighed. “Someone robbed me.”

Leon burst into such uproarious laughter that the bottles behind him vibrated.

“Robbing a thief—that’s art!” he chuckled, shaking his head with pure amusement.

You stood up from the stool, ready to leave without another word.

“Oh, come on, don’t get mad,” he said, softening his tone as he set a glass of tart juice in front of you. “Here, take this.”

From beneath the counter, he pulled out an enormous bag and dropped it in front of you. Startled, you approached it cautiously, as if it might contain someone’s severed head. Hesitantly, you reached for the knot, noticing your trembling hands. When you saw what was inside, you nearly wept.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, pulling the jacket onto your shoulders.

“Better you tell me why Silco’s right hand showed up at dawn, dropped this off without a word, and left looking none too pleased.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“Sevika was here?”

“Of course, she was. And with her, the fury of the universe. What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned miserably, resting your head on the counter. “Feels like everyone knows more than I do and no one’s planning to tell me anything.”

“Start from the beginning. How’d the job go?”

You told him about the meeting behind Last Drop. He commended your quick thinking when faced with the gas cylinder. You skimmed over the events at the factory, reluctant to revisit the memory of bodies strewn across the floor. You felt the risk of trouble hanging over you if that thug ever discovered who had undercut his operation.

The second topic, however, left you stumped. Leon worked for Silco, and you weren’t in the habit of sharing job details. Two deep breaths later, you started explaining the accidental break-in on the balcony. You weren’t sure whether he wanted to scold you or keep joking about your predicament. Fortunately, his comments weren’t overly sharp.

“Messing with shimmer is no joke. Once you’ve tried it, you might have trouble saying no next time. I’d advise staying away from Last Drop, just in case.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you assured him fervently. “Keep your fingers crossed they don’t throw me out when I show up there tonight.”

You stood to leave, but he stopped you before you could take a step.

“Listen, whatever’s happened, I’m glad you’re alive. But remember,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Silco doesn’t do favors out of the goodness of his heart. The fact that he helped you last night might mean he has plans for you. Plans you won’t necessarily like. Be careful.”

The way he framed it sent a chill through you, making you realize just how deep a mess you might be in within a few hours.

“I will,” you replied weakly, managing a faint smile.

The pale sun was beginning to descend from its peak in the sky.

You still had a few hours before the meeting.

Checking whether your backpack and its contents had survived took priority. The need to scrub the grime off yourself wrestled with the obligation to prepare. Raising the collar of your jacket to shield your neck from the biting wind, you wrinkled your nose at an unfamiliar scent. Raising your sleeve to your face, you caught the smell—not of cheap soap but of smoke.

No, something stronger.

You shook your head, knowing a tedious scrubbing session awaited you. Stubborn scents were hard to remove from leather, but you had to erase every last trace reminding you of him. 

Back in your room, a sense of calm finally enveloped you.

The air inside was stuffy, so you opened the window, letting in the first raindrops alongside the wind. You hung your jacket on one of the panes, hoping it would air out a bit, then sat on the bed and rummaged through your backpack.

Almost everything was where it should be. The bundle of dried meat Leon had given you was missing, but that was a minor loss.

Most importantly, the lock-picking kit rested safely in its usual pocket. Breathing a sigh of relief, you spread it out in front of you to check for damage—one could never be too sure. 

As you unfolded the fabric, a piece of paper fell to the floor.

What was it with people and notes?

Would it kill them to just talk? 

Amused by your own empty joke, you unfolded the slip. Unfortunately, the contents weren’t nearly as entertaining.

Quite nice. Don’t lose it again.

~S.

You felt your face flush crimson.

Furiously, you crumpled the note and threw it across the room. It was too light, pathetically falling between your feet and unfurling, the lone “S” smirking at you mockingly.

“What a bastard,” you growled.

Not only had he left you at the mercy of random strangers, but he’d also rifled through your backpack. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he were behind the missing food.

Of course, you were exaggerating—he didn’t owe you anything.

He could have left you on that balcony or simply killed you on a whim. You were alive, in decent shape, and the man responsible for your state had lost his job. You probably ought to thank him. 

Oh no, no way. You weren’t giving him that satisfaction. 

Determined not to think about him any longer, you tidied yourself up as best as your modest conditions allowed.

Soon, you’d need to head out to meet your mysterious contact.

The address pointed to the northwest, near the port district.

Why were most of Silco’s properties near the water?

Some kind of fetish?

A massive warehouse loomed over the surrounding buildings. At this hour, most places were either closed or abandoned by owners who knew better than to have such neighbors. You glanced at the hastily scrawled address again before approaching. 

A lone, masked man sat on a small stool by the door, finishing a cigarette. He didn’t spare you a glance. No one in their right mind would show up here uninvited. Despite the heavy metal doors, the shouts from inside were loud and clear.

What a cheerful bunch. 

You couldn’t stand those who barked instead of biting—those who talked a lot but did little and were usually the first to run away. Just in case, you released the blade hidden in your sleeve. Even if no trial awaited you, you had no idea who was inside.

You’d reached into too many pockets to remember all your victims.

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open. As always, you slipped inside rather than trying to appear more menacing than you truly were.

And, just as you suspected, no one paid attention to another person joining the gathering.

The problem was, you didn’t know who to look for.

Quietly, you hoped they would recognize you and spare you the search. You scanned the crowd, looking for a face that seemed a bit sharper than the rest. The loudest ones looked like their muscles had replaced their brains. You wove through the crowd, dodging bodies, until you noticed a group chatting calmly at a table. That seemed like a good place to try your luck.

But luck wasn’t on your side.

A hand shot out from the crowd and grabbed your collar.

You growled, struggling to break free.

Your assailant was stronger, pinning you against the wall in an instant.

He reeked of onions and filth. You stared into his bloodshot, yellow eyes, trying to recall if you’d ever seen him before.

His hand clamped around your throat, cutting off blood to your brain.

“You bitch,” he hissed. “I’ll kill you.”

“Dinner first, maybe?” you rasped weakly, attempting sarcasm.

“That was my sister!”

Not this again—another tirade about how you had crushed someone’s dreams. You rolled your eyes. You’d heard it all before. Instead of letting him spill his venom, you simply drove the small blade into his arm. The grip loosened, and you broke free. You leapt back a few steps, crouching with the knife in front of you.

“I don’t care what happened to your sister. Touch me again, and you’ll lose more than a bit of blood.”

He stared at you, stunned, as if he hadn’t expected you to fight back. The crowd around you buzzed with anticipation, clearly waiting for a fight. Bets were likely being placed.

“She was only sixteen, and you killed her!” he shouted, spit flying.

He didn’t approach but clutched a crude weapon—a screwdriver attached to a wooden handle. Primitive.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“She was on the mission. I found her body. You slit her throat like an animal, you murderer.”

Her? That girl who was the first to rush into the factory? A plain, unremarkable face you’d have forgotten if not for the ghastly open wound across her slim neck. You could picture her vacant eyes, her body twisted on the ground while chaos raged nearby. You lowered the blade and exhaled.

“I didn’t kill her. If you want revenge, find the idiot who caused the ruckus at Last Drop. Don’t waste my time unless you’re serious about following through.”

The crowd murmured at your words.

You wanted to smirk in satisfaction but found no pride in her death. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as you would have been if you hadn’t paused to survey the factory.

You wiped the blood off on your thigh and turned your back on him.

A gamble, but you sensed he preferred shouting to actual fighting.

You walked toward the tables and perched on the edge of one. Your throat throbbed from his grip. His stench clung to you, so you instinctively buried your nose in your collar. At least it masked the odor of sweat.

“Here,” a girl appeared beside you, handing you a dripping wet rag.

“Thanks,” you said, gratefully accepting it.

You wiped your hands and then your neck—anything to rid yourself of the sensation.

“New here?” she asked.

“Mhm,” you muttered, feeling far from conversational. “Not sure what I’m doing here. Any idea where I’m supposed to go?”

The girl was pretty, easy on the eyes. She shrugged and sat next to you.

“I just cook here. If someone brought you in, they’ll find you, no matter how big the crowd. I don’t know how, but they always do.”

Oddly comforting. All you could do was wait. You’d already made enough of a scene to make finding you easier. Secretly, you hoped it would be the same guy as yesterday. After the stunt he pulled, you wanted him groveling and apologizing.

The stranger lingered a few minutes before someone called her to the back. Alone again, you sat on the table with one leg tucked beneath you and the other swinging, emphasizing your slight stature.

Was this ragtag bunch all Silco’s people? Unlikely. Probably just his attack dogs—a holding pen to keep them in line. They had too much energy, wasted on brawling among themselves.

“You really love being the center of attention, don’t you?”

A rolled-up paper hit the back of your head.

“What was that for?!” you snapped, turning toward the speaker. “Sevika!”

You jumped down, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Don’t just stand there. Let’s go.”

She set a brisk pace, her long strides forcing you to trot to keep up—a comical sight, no doubt.

Should you thank her for delivering your bag? Leon had mentioned she wasn’t thrilled about playing courier. Best not to bring it up. She seemed calm, but her stormy, stern face could mean anything. No wonder everyone feared her.

You climbed the stairs to the upper level.

The corridors were quieter, more serene. She led you through a maze-like path, as if trying to prevent you from memorizing it. That was probably the point. Maybe she intended to leave you here to test if you could find your way out—or maybe you were overthinking it.

Finally, she opened a door to a small room. Inside was a lone desk with two chairs on either side. You glanced around but saw nothing else of interest, save for a south-facing window. The heavy door shut behind you with a finality that was unnerving.

Sevika sat down, lighting a small lamp. A lone cigarette dangled from her lips as she rummaged through a file.

“Are you just going to stand there gawking?”

You jumped, embarrassed, and quickly took the seat across from her.

“What are we doing here?”

She sighed heavily.

“I hate this.” She pulled out a form and scanned it. “What can you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“Am I speaking unclearly? I need to know what you’re capable of so I can assign you to a team. Get to the point; I don’t have all day.”

The sudden blankness in your mind was becoming more and more overwhelming.

“I open locks on commission, and I’m pretty good at it.”

“I know that. What else?”

“I can climb. There’s not a rooftop in Zaun I haven’t been on,” you began listing. “I’m good at sneaking. Jam... my friend says there’s no one who can spot me in the shadows or track me by my trail. I don’t leave tracks. Not anymore.”

You added the last part more softly. Because of a handprint you had left on a wall, your only friend at the time had been killed. Sevika didn’t seem to care about what you were saying; she was scribbling something on paper, waiting for you to continue.

“Stealth, reconnaissance...” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll do. Maybe. Don’t expect grand adventures for now.”

“So, I start today?”

“You wish,” she scoffed, finally looking up at you. “You’ve got 24 hours to sort out personal matters. Break ties with your old gang. From now on, you belong to us. Before you get any jobs, we need to test you. And after what you pulled yesterday, I’ll happily handle it myself.”

She looked at you like you were an insect. A bug she would first torment and then kill. Gods, she was terrifying. You couldn’t blame others for avoiding her like the plague.

“I wanted to thank you…”

“24 hours,” she cut you off, standing up. “Not a minute longer. Then you report directly to me. I don’t care how you find me. Got it?”

You leapt to your feet, ready to dance to her tune.

“Y-yes, of course.”

“Now get out,” she added with a strange smirk.

It wasn’t mocking.

There was something in it that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You left the room as though the devil himself was chasing you. You had memorized the way back, so it only took you a few minutes to reach the ground floor.

***

“So this is officially the end, huh?” you asked the empty street leading to the base James called his.

You had dragged out going to him as long as you could.

Ending your business with him would close a chapter of your life. Truthfully, you felt good working for him. You’d known James for years, but the jobs had stopped being satisfying. Every time he asked, “Do you want to?” He knew you had dreams. Dreams of escape. Far beyond Zaun. Somewhere you wouldn’t be defined by the side of the river you were born on.

But what he could offer sometimes wasn’t enough to buy food, let alone a ticket on a ship.

Working for him would take half a lifetime of opening locks.

Working for Silco, it would take a year. You knew where you stood. Money was money; you couldn’t afford to scorn earnings.

The narrow stairs leading to the basement where you met were far from the bridge to the upper city. You weren’t entirely sure who James paid for safety, but it didn’t matter now. Descending, you had no idea what you would find.

Certainly not this.

The door to the basement had been torn off its hinges and lay broken in two on the ground. Instinct told you to run, not to risk it, and avoid walking into an ambush. But Sevika’s orders had been clear: end everything and return. You feared her more than anything that might await below.

You pulled a knife from your sleeve and covered your face with a scarf.

This was your turf; you could escape quickly enough.

Better to ensure your face didn’t stay in anyone’s memory. You stepped over the broken wood with a long stride and descended into the darkness of the remaining stairs. The fourth step creaked, and the sixth was cracked. You knew them like the back of your hand.

Below, the familiar sounds were absent.

No voices.

No music.

Something was very wrong.

Like the half-dried bloodstain on the threshold.

Its scent was evident from the entrance.

The massacred bodies had once been your acquaintances. Unfortunately, the mutilated faces no longer resembled anyone.

A pang in your chest reminded you that you had considered them your people, not just coworkers. You stepped carefully between the bodies, not knowing why your eyes stung.

So much for a farewell conversation about ending the job.

Then you heard your name, rasped from a corner of the room.

It was faint, spoken in a hoarse voice. You tried to see who lay in the shadows but to no avail.

You quickly approached, and James’s battered form came into view. Kneeling in front of him, you didn’t know what to do about his injuries. His leg was broken in three places, his head bore a massive wound, and his labored breathing and grip on his ribs meant at least one was broken.

“What happened here?”

“It… was them,” he wheezed, trying to prop himself up slightly. “This building—it belonged to Finn.”

“He did this?”

“His people,” James corrected. “You need to run before they get you too.”

“Right now, I need to get you to a doctor.”

You glanced around the room.

One of the intact chairs still had sturdy legs. You broke them off and used the boards to splint his leg.

He protested and repeated the same words, so you threatened to gag him with a dirty sock if he didn’t stop complaining.

Sure, you were ending your partnership with him, but that didn’t mean you’d leave a decent friend to die.

Doctors in Zaun were closer to butchers and charged a fortune, but you had no choice. You still had some of what you’d taken from Camille. With a new job waiting for you, you felt almost generous. Better to spend it on help than on some worthless indulgence.

It was a half-hour walk to the nearest “hospital,” if you could call it that.

With an injured man in tow, the journey stretched to an hour. You were pushing your schedule hard, and as long as James didn’t drag his feet, you shouldn’t be late reporting to Sevika.

Halfway there, James started to lose consciousness from blood loss. His body was heavy, and you didn’t have the strength to throw him over your shoulder. You kept rousing him, prodding his sore ribs, knowing that pain was the best motivator.

The building that supposedly housed the small clinic was repulsive from afar. Peeling paint, cracked walls, crooked doors. But at least it didn’t stink like some others you knew.

Dragging James inside, you pushed past the crowd despite protests. He hung limply on your shoulder, his forehead burning with fever.

The woman handling patients argued along with the rest, but a pouch full of coins quickly shut her up, bringing a sweet smile to her face. Ignoring the queue, she led you to one of the rooms. You watched your hard-earned money disappear into her pocket, but it was worth it.

You had a moment, so you sat in a chair beside the bed, watching others tend to James. He mumbled in his sleep, utterly unaware of what was happening.

Suddenly, you noticed a syringe with something shimmering purple in one of the women’s hands. You grabbed her wrist before she could drive the needle into James's arm.  

“Are you crazy?” you hissed. “You want to give him that? He won’t survive.”  

“A different strain. What you paid for is enough for a few doses. If we’re going to treat him like the others, just say the word.”  

“No,” you hesitated. “Help him.”  

You wanted to stay with him longer, but the hour you were supposed to report to Sevika was approaching fast. James wasn’t going anywhere; he’d be stuck in the hospital for several days. You’d likely be able to visit him, provided you didn’t get an assignment. Contrary to what you feared, they were taking decent care of him. His wounds were cleaned, and his breathing had stabilized.  

You were dying to know why Finn’s people attacked the base, but James was in no state to answer.

That meant you were in danger too.

Just because no one saw you leaving the scene didn’t mean your name hadn’t come up during potential interrogations. You hadn’t just caused problems for yourself but likely for Sevika as well—assuming you’d admit to it. You could always lie and omit mentioning the mission. But if Sevika decided to dig into your activities, the truth would undoubtedly come to light. It seemed safer to confess everything.  

You left James in the hospital and hurried to the compound.

Sevika had told you to find her, and that was the first place you intended to look. Last Drop was a last-resort option; it was still too early for that. Just seeing the liquid in the syringe earlier had stirred something akin to hunger in you.  

You didn’t want to find out what would happen if you were late reporting in.

You entered the compound as you had the previous day and headed straight for the stairs. You didn’t make it to the first step when a door slammed somewhere, and an enraged Sevika stormed out of the hallway. Her eyes flashed lightning as she glared at you, her hands gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles whitened.  

“To me,” she growled. “Now!”  

Her fury in her voice made your legs buckle. Stumbling slightly, you rushed after her. She moved even faster in her anger, disappearing around a corner. When you caught up, she grabbed you by the neck without ceremony and shoved you into a room.  

“Do you have any idea how royally you’ve screwed up?” she asked, slamming the door shut behind her.  

“I don’t know what you—”  

“I thought I was done with you, and then I got word that Slickjaws are looking for someone responsible for the explosion by the shore. Imagine my surprise when Finn himself deemed it necessary to demand your head.”  

This couldn’t be happening.  

“Mine? But I didn’t do anything—”  

Sevika placed one hand on her hip while the other pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed heavily as if restraining herself from throttling you bare-handed.  

“I don’t know what’s going on here, and I don’t like it. But Silco doesn’t want to hand you over. I have no idea what’s going through his head this time, but now I have to hide you until this blows over.”  

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” you shouted, desperate for answers even though you knew she might silence you permanently.  

“Your buddy from the gang you played with ratted you out the moment they got to him. Seriously, you people have no sense if none of you bothered to hide your identities.”  

“No,” you stammered. “James wouldn’t do that.”  

“Oh, but he did. After you heroically hauled him to the hospital on your back, Finn’s people were certain it was you. And now they’ve definitely seen you entering one of Silco’s training compounds. Did it ever occur to you that you might be followed? I’d hand you over in a second if I could.”  

You didn’t know how to respond. You were out of steam. James. You’d known him for years, and he had betrayed you so brazenly.

Was that why he survived? Because he sold you out?

Sadness mixed with anger as you struggled to believe it despite the evidence.  

“This has to be a misunderstanding,” you started, feeling panic creep into your thoughts.  

“I’ll clear it up because I have no choice. But you are staying here. Don’t stick so much as a nose outside unless you want to lose it. If I find out you’ve been up to something, I’ll strangle you myself.”  

She didn’t give you time to reply, slamming the door behind her as she left.

You understood her anger. You knew you’d brought this on yourself by taking part in the heist, but you hadn’t realized you’d messed up this badly.  

It took you a moment to assess your situation.

Sevika hadn’t locked you in; her threats were enough. You sat on the floor in the two-person room, which seemed to serve as a temporary holding space for cases like yours.  

If you understood correctly, you were to be made an example of.

Likely public punishment or something similar, culminating in a spectacular death. Whatever was in that building had to be valuable. But you hadn’t been the one to blow it up. You’d been long gone when the explosion happened. Not that anyone cared.  

Silco’s refusal to hand you over was clear to you.

Giving someone up would show that he could be made to lose something. Likely a matter of pride, nothing more.

Either way, you had another reason to thank him. He was saving your skin again, even though it would have been easier to just kill you. This time—if things resolved in your favor—you’d have to say something.  

But first, James.

You couldn’t rest until you knew for sure if he had betrayed you.

Sevika had told you not to leave. No one seemed to be watching you, but they might have stationed someone outside the door.

However, the window was unsecured. Probably no one imagined someone could climb down from the third floor on a nearly smooth wall. Well, others couldn’t. You could.  

Once again, you risked so much for so little in return.

But it was James—your friend, practically family. You needed to hear it from him. The problem was, you didn’t know how much time you had before Sevika returned.

An hour?

A day?

Or was she standing outside, waiting to see if you’d run?  

You wrestled with your thoughts, losing precious minutes.

Returning to the hospital was foolish. You didn’t even know if he’d regained consciousness. You opened the window, hoping the fresh air would clear your head.  

The best option was to trust Sevika. She knew what she was doing. If Silco had made his decision, you should just stay put.

Yet the open window beckoned. You didn’t even realize when you climbed onto the sill, surveying the surroundings. You could probably climb down but getting back up would be harder. You were practically lying on the windowsill when the door handle creaked.  

Why does everything in this place squeak and groan? Don’t they know how to oil anything?  

“I swear I wasn’t trying to escape!” you shouted quickly, backing away from the window.  

But it wasn’t Sevika.  

“Good to know you can sometimes listen to those who know better.”  

You felt cornered, almost trapped. Fascinated.  

“I can explain everything,” you started, but he cut you off with a gesture.  

“You’ve promised me answers before, only for something to interrupt us,” he said, stepping closer. “Are you planning to faint again to avoid questions this time?”  

Fatigue was starting to take over. You collapsed onto the hard mattress and buried your face in your hands.

“I didn’t know that house belonged to Finn, all right? I didn’t cause the explosion.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore. Someone has to pay the price, and it just so happens to be you.”

“Then why don’t you just hand me over and get it over with?”

The games were beginning to wear on you.

“Just hand you over? Like that? And what’s in it for me?”

You glanced at Silco, who stood still in the half-light.

He wanted something from you; otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered coming all the way here.

And you could be certain it was nothing pleasant.

If only his scent didn’t keep clinging more and more to your hair.

“Oh, right, I forgot. It’s always a transaction,” you scoffed, not knowing where you found the courage.

“You can think of it that way,” he replied, stepping closer. “But I prefer to see you as an investment. One that’s costing me at the moment.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m just a thief,” you shot him a sideways look, and for just a second, one word flitted through your mind—one you wouldn’t dare say aloud for any price. “So what are you even doing here?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to just a thief when I visit buildings that belong to me, do I?”

You stood up, feeling the need to set some boundaries—if such a thing was even possible with him. He seemed like the kind of man who took what he wanted, regardless of anyone else’s opinion.

“I understand. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. I’ll wait here patiently until Sevika carries out your orders. Does that suit you? Or should I dance or sing for you as well?”

“Oh, I have no doubt you know how to dance,” he said, giving you a once-over. “But for now, all I need is your word that you won’t leave here until I permit it.”

A strange shiver ran down your spine. You rolled your eyes again.

“Fine, have it your way.”

You felt as though you were agreeing to something far more than just waiting patiently. And you knew you’d regret it, but it was already too late to take back your words.

Chapter Text

So, you're stuck.

You were explicitly forbidden to leave the facility. For once, you decided there was no point in acting on your own. It was difficult to give up control like that. Most of your life, you'd dealt with incompetent people who treated trust like a toy to be tossed around. You’d been burned by that more than once. Enough to teach you that trust isn’t something you gain in a matter of days. That’s why Sevika’s comment about James stung so much.

You’d been in this room for six days now. It wasn’t a cell, of course—just a place to sleep. You were free to wander wherever you wanted within the building. It wasn’t the worst situation: comfortable, warm, with decent food. Perfect conditions for survival, but not for living. You started getting bored halfway through the second day. You explored every corner, including the roof. You bent her rules as much as you could, but outright rebellion wasn’t your style. Sevika had said not to leave the building—not not to climb onto it.

If you didn’t have at least a little freedom, you started to panic. Sitting in this metal box was threatening your sanity. The perpetually open window tempted you with freedom, but you knew the risks too well.

A few hours into your unofficial house arrest, someone had brought you a stuffed backpack. Inside, you found most of your clothes, but not much else. There was also a letter from Leon.

I don’t know what mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but if you’ve still got your head on your shoulders, I trust it’s not your fault.
Some kid with a scar on his cheek came by and told me to pack up your things. I heard you’ve moved to a different place. The rest of your stuff is in a box at the bar. You can pick it up anytime.

Take care of yourself.

Leon.

It was only at that moment you felt the full weight of the changes life had thrown at you—not of your own doing, of course. It was a small comfort that, despite the trouble you’d caused, someone believed in you enough to try and help. Most people in your position might feel grateful, but you knew better. This wouldn’t end with a selfless good deed. Such things didn’t exist.

You spent most of your days holed up in your room, avoiding people. They weren’t bad, just... different. These were people who made their living beating others to a pulp. It was strange you’d been placed here at all since you had nothing in common with the rest of them.

When you ran out of rooms to snoop through—which happened pretty quickly—you started hanging around the kitchen, striking up conversations with Sara. You could say you liked her, but you definitely wouldn’t trust her with any secrets. She was a terrible gossip. She had opinions about anyone who’d shown up at the facility more than twice. And right now, you were the hottest topic of discussion.

Everyone was trying to figure out what you’d done to make Sevika so pissed off. You kept your mouth shut, not admitting to anything. There was no point pretending you didn’t know what they were talking about. Using someone higher up as an excuse to stay silent was surprisingly convenient.

Oddly, Sara didn’t know anything about Silco’s recent visit. It seemed almost impossible that no one had noticed him. If it turned out he had secret corridors in this place...

Sara couldn’t give you any useful insights about him. Apparently, very few people got the chance to talk to him directly. He wasn’t someone who fraternized with his workers—or so Sara believed. You had a different opinion.

Whenever Sevika came into view, you made it a point to follow her around, bombarding her with questions. Oddly enough, she was remarkably patient with your badgering. Eventually, though, she started quickening her pace whenever she spotted you, disappearing into one of the private rooms.

With nothing better to do, you’d camp out by the door, waiting for her to reemerge. It seemed only Silco’s orders kept her from tossing you out the nearest window.

On the fifth day, she finally snapped and came looking for you as soon as she arrived at the building. It was the middle of the night when she dragged you out of bed and sat you down in a chair.

“Can you stop following me around?” she growled through gritted teeth.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

“But you came to me,” you pointed out.

“Let’s settle this once and for all. I’m not your friend, so stop pestering me with questions.”

“If you’d just answer me, I would’ve stopped on the first day,” you retorted, a little sullen.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“How do you know it was James who gave me up?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

“Of course, you’re still hung up on that. Weren’t you supposed to cut ties with people from your old life? He betrayed you. Get over it. Move on. He won’t do it again.”

“Oh, for sure. As soon as I get out of here—” you started angrily, but something in her expression made you stop.

“He’s dead.”

For a moment, you thought she was joking, but she looked deadly serious. Not that she didn’t usually look grim, but this time it was different.

“What?”

“Someone gave him a triple dose of shimmer the same day you dragged him to the hospital,” she said, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarette. “Satisfied now?”

“I don’t believe you,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Believe it. Listen, clinging to your old life is only going to bring you more trouble. He did what he did, and Slickjaws decided he wasn’t useful anymore.”

“They’re the ones who killed him?”

“Who else? You trusted the wrong person, and now you’re paying for it. I don’t want to owe you anything, and I definitely don’t want you lurking around every day. One of the bodies had a note from your James. He was easy to find—especially since the idiot used his real name. When they came for him, he sold you out immediately to save his own skin.”

“No, he was all beat up. They must’ve forced it out of him.”

She looked at you with disdain.

“You’re sitting there like a whipped dog in front of the person sticking their neck out so you don’t lose your head, and you have the nerve to doubt me?”

You shrank back slightly. The way she could wound you with words made you fear her even more.

“It’s just... hard to believe,” you mumbled.

She shrugged and stood up.

“Instead of whining about being betrayed by scum like him, why don’t you start training?” she said, giving your arms a pointed glance. “You can’t keep running forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to fight.”

She slammed the door as she left, utterly indifferent to the state she’d left you in. Your clock read two in the morning.

It stirred you enough that sleep wasn’t going to return anytime soon. You might as well occupy yourself. You slipped on yesterday’s clothes and climbed out onto the roof through the window. A strong gust of wind nearly sent you tumbling off. You had to crouch and shield your eyes to avoid the stinging dust. Still, it was better than staying trapped inside. Sometimes you wondered why you loved being at heights so much, but no answer ever seemed right. Supposedly, even as a child, you always looked for ways to climb higher, like a cat fleeing a predator. But you weren’t running from anyone.

You sat on the edge of the roof, letting your legs dangle over the void. The city didn’t sleep, not even now. You could see bright white and yellow spots marking lit windows—people spending time with their families or working for them. There were so many. In theory, you should have considered them your people, neighbors, companions. But calling them that would mean admitting you felt connected to them. Potential friends, family... people you cared about. All of that would make planning your escape harder.

You could leave this city without a word. Sneak onto a ship and cross the borders unnoticed. It would be an adventure, exciting, full of experiences, and simply positive. Yet even the thought of it made you feel like a traitor. You thought about all the people you’d leave behind. Not everyone had the courage or determination to seek a new life far beyond the sea. Some felt deeply tied to the lower city or wanted a better future for their children. You lost those dreams when your father passed away. That’s when you realized there was nothing and no one holding you in the city.

You feared that by leaving, you’d regret not doing something to help others.

It was funny how these thoughts came to you now, just when someone offered you help. Maybe it was some kind of emotional reflex. You lay back, searching for stars in the cloudy sky. Altruism wasn’t a part of your nature. Such selfless help usually came with subtle exploitation. That’s why you avoided not only offering it but also accepting it. Whatever Silco and Sevika were up to, it stank from a mile away, but you didn’t have much choice. Either that, face the consequences of your last conversation with him, or die.

You’d have loved to stay on the roof until sunrise, but fine raindrops began to fall on your face. Saved by the bell. It was easier not to think about it.

Sevika had pointed out that you couldn’t handle yourself in a fight. You took her words to heart, not because you trusted her judgment but because you were determined to find someone to train you. Just to prove to her that you could manage when the time came.

***

The leather sand-filled ball was perfect for killing time. You hadn’t fallen asleep again that night. You waited for the organism that was this place to wake up and start moving. After helping Sara chase off a pest, she’d started giving you better portions during meals. You were starting to feel hungry, but breakfast was still a long way off. You missed the independence of deciding what and when to do things. Here, you had to adapt to avoid irritating anyone too much. That, at least, came naturally to you.

You lay on the bed, one foot crossed over your knee, tossing the ball into the air. A perfect focus exercise—the motivation being not to get hit in the nose. Again. Maybe you’d taken your situation too lightly. The midnight trip to the roof had helped you organize your thoughts. Sevika had no reason to lie about James’s death. Too bad about the money you’d lost on him. Sevika didn’t worry you. You felt fear and a lot of respect for her. The fact that she’d approached you with good intentions—your pestering her aside—made your respect for her grow. If she said she’d handle it, you had no reason not to believe her.

No, she didn’t worry you. Her boss, though, did. You lived by observing people unaware of being watched. It was satisfying to learn things about them they’d never admit. What people whispered about Silco and what he actually showed were two different things. You knew him only through hushed stories. A gangster, a businessman. Cruel and unpredictable. That you could believe without question. When you saw him for yourself, though, you were surprised—and even slightly relieved—to find he was exaggeratedly caricatured. Every flaw and imperfection exaggerated to the point of turning him into a monster. You’d heard about the scars on his face, but they didn’t come close to how people described them. Sure, one red eye might provoke unease, but compared to the modifications people willingly gave themselves, Silco looked normal by comparison. Almost handsome. You scoffed, admitting there was no point fooling yourself. The man had taste, even if his clothing masked a rotten character.

The first rays of sunlight began streaming through the window, casting long, bright stripes across the wall in front of you. It looked like the first sunny day in a long time was shaping up. And, of course, you had to spend it locked in a cage. Many times, you’d been ready to just ignore orders and go your own way. But you’d made Silco a promise, and though it left a bitter taste, you weren’t keen to find out what happened when you broke your word to him.

You tilted your head back, watching raindrops slide down the glass, creating a mesmerizing pattern in the morning light. You began hearing footsteps in the corridor. Bolting upright, you grabbed for your shoes. You were halfway through tying them when you heard a soft knock at the door. Looking up from your laces, you saw Sara peeking inside, unsure if she’d found the right room. She exhaled with relief when she saw you and stepped boldly inside.

“You’ve got something here,” you pointed at her cheek.

Flustered, she wiped it with her sleeve.

“Thanks. You need to go. They’re calling for you.”

Straightening your back, you felt a surge of adrenaline.

“Who?”

“Sevika caught me in the hallway and told me to tell you to report to her office.”

“I didn’t even know she had an office,” you joked, trying to ease the tension. “I mean, she doesn’t seem like the type who needs one… Anyway, thanks, I’ll go.”

Sara nodded and quickly left. Interesting that Sevika hadn’t called you herself. Eh, you thought there was something more between you two. Amused by your own dry humor, you threw on your jacket and left. It was probably the same room where she’d started questioning your skills. The decor had been as austere as her—fitting.

Hands stuffed into your pockets, you walked forward, your legs finding the route on their own. Well, you’d followed her so many times there was no chance of getting lost. Every corridor and every door looked the same. No numbers or names. To get to the right place, you needed to know exactly where you were going. Very profound, you joked internally, feeling a surge of philosophical thoughts.

Everyone you passed moved away from your destination as if avoiding Sevika at all costs today. Of course, it had to be today, when she was likely in a foul mood—probably because of you—that you were summoned. If that wasn’t a death wish, you didn’t know what was.

You knocked three times on the door. Several long seconds passed before you heard a loud “Enter!” You peeked inside cautiously, unsure of what to expect. Through the slightly open door, you saw Sevika leaning one elbow on the windowsill, staring outside. She seemed strangely calm, lost in thought.

It was strange; the rest of the group had been avoiding her like the plague today. Only after a moment did you understand why. You let out a small sigh and opened the door wider. Suddenly, you wanted to slam it shut and never go back inside.

Silco was sitting in her seat, intently going through documents. Maybe Sevika was irritated because he had pointed out the mess on her desk? You clenched your teeth and stepped inside. You noticed the chair you'd been sitting on last time was gone.

"Close the door," he said without looking up.

Turning your back to him, you reached for the handle and rolled your eyes. The door clicked softly as it shut. The atmosphere immediately thickened. Being alone with these two was an interesting experience. Sevika no longer treated you with outright hostility as she had before; now, you simply annoyed her. But him...

"I am about to make your day," he tossed an unmarked folder your way.

You hesitantly approached the desk, wondering what you'd find inside. Silco seemed to be in a good mood. Still, you didn’t trust him.

"What’s this?" you asked, reaching for the folder.

You opened it and saw the profile of one of the factory workers. Skimming through the information, you quickly gathered he was employed at the shimmer factory as a production coordinator.

"Your target," he replied.

Your throat tightened. You glanced at him and then at Sevika. She, however, continued to stare out at the city through the window.

"You want me to..." you trailed off, finishing your question with a suggestive throat-slitting gesture.

"Don't make us out to be barbarians," he scolded lightly. "You're to follow him."

"You're giving me an assignment? I can finally go out?"

"You’ll have to, if you want to complete the task, won't you?" he asked slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a fool.

You bit your tongue to avoid snapping back. Sevika wouldn't let you live it down.

"What exactly should I look for?"

When you focused on work, thinking came more easily. His gaze embarrassed you, making you lose the ability to speak coherently.

"This man will soon be accused of stealing shimmer and conducting experiments on his own, but we need solid evidence. Your job is to find out where he’s taking the stolen samples and what exactly he’s doing with them. Clear?"

He pulled a cigar from his pocket. Sevika mechanically approached him and offered a light. It seemed to be some sort of ritual. Or maybe he had trained her that way. It was a peculiar sight. You nodded to confirm, but his expectant look told you that you needed to say it aloud.

"Understood. I'll get to work."

"You’re to follow him and report any unusual moves," Sevika interjected, leaning one hand on the desk. "No interference. No fighting. Gather evidence and report back to me. If he catches you, you're burned, and you can kiss this job goodbye."

This was serious. It was your first assignment, and your future in the team depended on it. Silco stood up from his seat and walked around the desk, leaning against it as he calmly smoked. They were throwing you into the deep end. Of course, tailing someone wasn’t a problem. You'd done it for years. However, if this man was stealing from the factory, he probably suspected he might be watched. That made him cautious. The risk increased. The coming days would require constant vigilance to ensure he didn’t notice a lone figure lurking in the shadows and tracking his every move.

Difficult, but doable.

"And what about that other matter? You know...?"

If they had assigned you a mission, it meant Finn's people had stopped looking for you. Unless they considered this task more important, and now, not only did you have to tail someone, but also watch out for a knife in the ribs. These people were absolutely insane if this was a rookie’s first assignment. But did you have a choice?

"Regarding that, I’d recommend changing your name for a while. And maybe altering your appearance a bit."

"What?" you asked, frowning in surprise. "Why?"

"Officially, you’re dead," he said with the calmness of someone discussing the weather.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. You felt hot blood rushing to your head. Words you probably shouldn’t say were already on the tip of your tongue.

"Excuse me?!"

"A report noted you fleeing to the upper city and boarding a ship bound for Noxus. Due to an unfortunate accident near the port, the ship caught fire. No one survived."

"Did you..." your voice broke. "Did you kill everyone on board to cover... me?"

"See how important you are?" Silco sneered, amused by your horror. "Don’t flatter yourself. The odds were slim, but it just so happened that along with you, the couple who had so brazenly tried to rob Finn were also on board. When he heard they were dead, he was much more willing to accept the news of your demise. Two birds, one stone."

Everything inside you screamed that you should be horrified at the calmness with which he spoke about the deaths of hundreds of people. He looked at you, expecting you to protest and yell. To call him a monster and refuse the assignment, walking out. He was testing you, seeing what you were made of. How far he could bend you before you broke. You recognized that look. He was challenging you. It was stupid, but some twisted part of your mind interpreted it as a reason to feel pride. You picked up the gauntlet and smiled faintly.

"I suppose I should be grateful, huh?"

Sevika chuckled. She probably hadn’t expected you to have the courage not to flinch.

"Your choice," he muttered. It was a clear signal that you should leave. You turned on your heel, but of course, he had to have the last word. "Did you forget something?"

You glanced back over your shoulder, but his expression gave nothing away about what he meant.

"I don’t think so," you replied cautiously.

"You caused us a lot of trouble with your reckless behavior. Sevika had to work hard to save your neck from the chopping block, and you just want to walk out?"

The mentioned Sevika looked at you with unusual amusement, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. The problem was, you had no idea what they were referring to. Was this the moment when they revealed how much that help had cost you?

"I’m not sure what you expect from me," you admitted honestly.

He pushed away from the desk and approached you. Your first instinct was to step back, but that would’ve given him satisfaction. You stood firm, legs straightened. When he was this close, you felt you should fear him more than Sevika. His gaze pierced you through and through. Your throat went completely dry. If you had to say anything now, you’d sound pitiful.

"Don’t you think she deserves some gratitude?" he asked, leaning slightly towards you, attempting to hide a devious smirk.

He wanted to humiliate you. You could’ve guessed. Taking a deep breath, you summoned all your willpower and tore your gaze away from his. You shifted your attention to Sevika.

"Thank you for your help," you forced the words out slowly before shifting your gaze back to Silco. "I’ll try not to cause any more trouble."

Deliberately, he blew a cloud of smoke directly into your face. Your eyes watered, and you felt a cough building in your throat.

"We both know that’s not true," he murmured.

In an instant, his presence vanished, and you could breathe again—at least as well as one could in a haze of smoke. You waved your hands in front of your face, taking a few steps back. Silco left without another word, leaving you even more shaken. Now you were certain he would remember you for a long time. Sevika looked at you with furrowed brows, as if something unexpected had just happened.

"Does he always deliver assignments personally?" you asked.

"No," she replied curtly. "That’s the thing—he doesn’t."

***

The man’s name was Zarys. His profile stated he was just over 30, but his appearance suggested someone closer to 50. This was the second week you’d been following him, trailing him like a stray dog that had been thrown a scrap of food. You were his shadow. You knew where he worked and where he lived. You knew what he ate for lunch and when he went to the bathroom.

He left his house at the crack of dawn and went straight to work. He started his day chatting with the guard and sharing a drink you couldn’t quite identify. He was a diligent worker—if you ignored the frequent thefts. He didn’t slack on the job, didn’t argue with coworkers, and left you with almost nothing to criticize. After work, he bought small items at the market. He didn’t frequent bars or spend money on vices.

A perfectly ordinary man trying to survive another day. Sometimes, he stayed at work a few hours longer, but even then, he returned home quietly, ate dinner under the glow of a lone lamp, and went to bed. You spent your nights camped outside his house, knowing you couldn’t lose sight of him for a moment. Who knew when he might break his routine and steal another vial of shimmer? You even watched him in the factory, perched in the shadows of massive metal crates. Most of his time was spent near a large tank of purple liquid. If he were to steal something, it would be from there. But in the past two weeks, he hadn’t come within a meter of it. It was frustrating. You hadn’t expected a single assignment to take this long.

Every evening, you wrote a report for Sevika. Since assigning the task to you, she hadn’t shown up at the facility even once. Sara, however, kept you updated. She was kind enough to meet you near Zarys’s house to collect your reports. Perhaps you were foolish to trust her, but she was too straightforward to betray you. She had no reason to. She was simply the kind of person who wanted to be nice.

Sleeping on the ground had left your entire body sore. You hadn’t changed clothes in days, which was almost an advantage—the smell deterred beggars who mistook you for one of them. When Zarys slept, you snuck into his house to check for hidden evidence but found nothing suspicious. The house should have had a basement, but there was no visible hatch, and no external entrance. Even if he were up to something at home, he didn’t have the stolen sample with him. You had to wait to catch him in the act.

You briefly thought back to Silco’s words before deciding he wasn’t worth the mental energy. You were tougher than he might have assumed. If he wanted loyalty and respect, he could earn them. But you wouldn’t let him toy with you. Whatever lay beneath that perfectly groomed hair was none of your concern. The sooner you forgot about him, the better. One year, and you’d be able to leave.

The opportunity finally came two days later. That day, Sara brought you delicious sandwiches that nearly lulled you into letting your guard down. Zarys was working overtime again. You watched his hands closely, and at last, he revealed his true nature. Feigning illness, he leaned against the tank. The conveyor belt beneath it paused briefly, and in that moment, he grabbed a vial and slipped it into his inner pocket. He moved so quickly you almost missed it. From another pocket, he pulled out an identical vial and dropped it on the floor—probably filled with colored water to cover up the theft. Clever.

He left two hours after his shift ended, visibly more nervous than usual. He scanned the street as though he expected someone to be watching. But there was no chance he’d see you. You’d chosen a rooftop position, knowing he wouldn’t look up. No one ever did. You stuck to one side, careful to avoid stepping between Zarys and the moonlight; the glow could have given away your position. As soon as he left the factory, he took a different route than usual, heading away from his home. He kept his face buried in his collar, hunching over like a clumsy bird. No one paid attention to yet another frightened resident. His behavior practically begged for a mugging. He would’ve been an easy target, too, if not for the strict order not to initiate contact.

He wandered through the streets, seemingly trying to lose any tail, though no one was following him on the ground. Eventually, he gave up on circling aimlessly and quickened his pace. It was clear he had a destination in mind—somewhere not far from the tower you hadn’t visited in a month. You missed it, but there was no time for sentimentality.

You had to descend to the street. The buildings in this district were less stable, their roofs lacking proper support beams. Every step was a gamble with death. With more time, you could have found a safer path, but not today. Almost silently, you slid down a metal ladder and peeked around the corner. Zarys was hurrying down the middle of the street—a classic mistake for someone unfamiliar with hiding. Tailoring him was laughably easy.

Several kilometers later, he stopped in front of an unremarkable house, stepped inside, and locked the door behind him. The sound of the key turning was unnaturally loud. Even if someone else lived nearby, they seemed eerily unconcerned. You checked every window of that wretched house, but he had vanished. For someone with no knowledge of stealth, he had disappeared alarmingly fast. You examined the ground floor through the dusty windows but found no sign of him. Frustrated, you cursed under your breath, dreading the possibility of waiting another two weeks for a similar chance.

You circled the house like a predator around prey, but it was pointless. He was nowhere to be found. The floor bore no trace of footsteps. He couldn’t have simply vanished into thin air. Muttering irritably to yourself, you noticed a faint light filtering through a dense bush nearby. Crouching down, you gently pushed the branches aside. The bastard was in a basement, with a hidden entrance likely near the front door. Lamps cast a cold glow in the room below. The window was set deep into the wall, just below ground level. You couldn’t see much beyond a patch of floor.

Pulling out a compact mirror, you used its reflection to get a better view. After some adjustments, you finally spotted your evidence.

In the center of the room sat a small distillation apparatus. The window must have been poorly sealed because you could hear Zarys muttering to himself as he noted down measurements. He poured the stolen sample into a small metal container and started the machine. Seconds later, individual droplets began falling into a dish.

A sharp pain flared behind your left eye, and you nearly cried out. The unexpected jolt almost made you drop the mirrors. Then the smell hit you—sweet and cloying.

Your body stopped responding to the commands your brain was issuing. You dug your fingers into the ground, feeling the sand scrape under your nails. Shimmer. That’s how it affected you. In some incomprehensible, inexplicable way, you felt hunger—worse than when you ended up homeless as a child. It was different, deeper, darker. It consumed your mind, making it impossible to think of anything but satisfying it. You stared at the dripping violet liquid, feeling a strength within you powerful enough to rip the bars from a window. Every muscle in your body was so tightly clenched that even your bones began to ache. You buried your face in your sleeve, knowing you couldn't hold back the scream.

And then it stopped.

Not gradually, like normal pain fading away. It vanished, taking all the air, strength, and ability to react from your body. You lay on the ground, unable to move. Paralysis clung to you. You still had your mind, but your body felt like it didn’t belong to you anymore—it belonged to whatever that stuff, that shimmer, had produced. You needed to escape before someone found you.

Two hours passed before you managed to move your hand. Scraping at the ground, you crawled toward the nearest gate, trying to conceal yourself in the shadows. You had to report back before Shimmer's effects could disappear entirely, before the operation folded. The problem was that returning home—if you could call it that—would take you half the night. That is, if you weren’t attacked or robbed along the way. In this condition, you couldn’t fight back, let alone scale walls or jump across rooftops.

Your willpower was stronger than the strange attack. Clutching at protruding bricks and breaking your nails, you slowly got to your feet. Leaning against the wall, you dragged yourself forward step by step. It was a relief that the worst of it had hit in a deserted district. You hoped that by the time you reached the Lanes, you’d be able to walk steadily.

Four hours.

That’s how long it took you to get back. Your legs felt like jelly. Hugging yourself, you tried to conserve what little heat your freezing body had left. Outside, it was hot—people walked around in just T-shirts, but you were shivering. Sweat soaked your brow. You were certain you looked like death.

It was well past midnight. Most of the windows in the building were dark. You just needed to get inside; then it would be easier. At least you didn’t have to worry about thugs. After surviving a meeting with Silco and Sevika, most people in the Lanes gave you a wary respect.

The door felt heavier than usual, or maybe it was just you. The path in front of you blurred. You knew you were heading toward the stairs, but you weren’t sure if your feet were landing right. You faltered at the first step. Missed the second. Your legs buckled beneath you. You grabbed at the railing, but your bruised fingers couldn’t maintain their grip. The ground wasn’t far, but it still hurt when your head smacked against the floor.

You woke up in your room. Still in your filthy clothes, with a headache that rivaled a three-day drinking binge. Groaning, you rolled onto your side. The world spun anew. You spotted a bucket by the bed—perfect for getting rid of the remnants of that sandwich you’d eaten.

“You look like shit, you know that?”

You glanced up.

“Good to see you too,” you rasped. “I found evidence…”

You tried to sit up, but Sevika darted forward, forcing you back onto the pillow.

“I figured. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have dragged yourself here in the middle of the night,” Sevika muttered, her lips tightening as she averted her gaze. “How much did you take?”

“What?” you snapped. “I didn’t—how dare you?!”

“Calm down, I’m not accusing you. But I need to know who gave it to you and how much.”

You clenched your teeth, wishing you could punch her.

“Nothing. I. Took. Nothing. It was just the scent.”

Sevika dragged a chair closer to the bed and sat down, legs spread wide.

“Listen, I believe you, okay? Silco told me how you react to Shimmer. But now we think it might not be our product. I can’t say more. Once you’re recovered, you need to see him. But first, the report.”

“Fuck off,” you groaned but obediently relayed what you knew.

She listened with a set expression, and you could tell this was more serious than you’d thought. You covered your eyes with your forearm, unable to bear the light in the room. Before leaving, you asked Sevika to leave the window open. To your surprise, she did it without complaint.

So someone was tampering with the drug. No wonder Silco had issued the order personally. The only mystery was why he’d chosen you of all people. You were still new, with plenty of room to screw up. Of course, your pride wouldn’t allow it. Not because you wanted him to be proud of you, but because you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of mocking you. For the first time since you started this job, you almost wanted to talk to Silco. Maybe he’d offer a clearer explanation than Sevika had.

***

The Last Drop looked the same as always, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was pulsing with some strange, pale light. You still hadn’t regained your strength. The bouncer recognized you from a distance and let you in without a word. The neon lights burned your eyes. You squinted, trying to block out the colors. The new bartender gave you directions to Silco’s office. Whatever had messed with your head had also stripped away your lingering fear of him. You just wanted sleep. You wanted answers.

You hesitated before knocking. Barging in uninvited wasn’t an option. You weren’t reckless enough to mistake boldness for courage. Raising your fist, you knocked. The echo reverberated down the dark hallway. You heard nothing from the other side. In different circumstances, you might have used this as an excuse to leave, to pretend he wasn’t there. But with Silco, nothing was ever that simple.

You entered, feeling your confidence drain away. This was his domain. You didn’t know him, didn’t know how to escape if it came to that. A quick scan etched the room’s layout into your mind: sofa on the left, cabinets on the right, and the desk in front of a large balcony window—which was open. Silco leaned against the wall, head slightly tilted back. In one hand, he held a lit cigar, almost like a signature. He hadn’t noticed you yet. You allowed yourself a few seconds to memorize the sight of him letting his guard down. His face was relaxed, his eyes closed. He didn’t resemble the man who had forced you to express gratitude.

But this wasn’t a moment for you to witness. It was too personal. Too intimate. Not for you.

You reached for the door handle behind you, deliberately and loudly reopening and closing the door. Silco twitched, quickly resuming his usual posture. He seemed slightly flustered but had invited you here, so he couldn’t be surprised you’d come.

“I’m here. You wanted to see me?” you called out, pretending you hadn’t noticed him earlier.

Adjusting his vest, he stepped further inside. You almost preferred the calmer version of him you’d seen moments ago.

“Sit down,” he gestured to the chair opposite him. “You look like you need it.”

He was unusually polite. It put you on alert—at least as much as your weakened state allowed. You didn’t argue; you wouldn’t have lasted standing for long.

“Thanks,” you sighed heavily. “I assume this is about the Shimmer?”

“It's about you,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “What did you see?”  

“Sevika has my report.”  

“I want to hear it from you,” he emphasized firmly.  

You swallowed, feeling strangely unsettled.  

“Well. Zarys has a small lab in a house on the outskirts. He’s stealing individual vials from the factory and redistilling them at home.”  

“Just as I suspected. Did he give you anything?”  

“What? No! Why does everyone ask if I’m taking that garbage?!” you shouted, leaning forward.  

“I’m not accusing you. Some of my people like to... relax with it. The problem is, none of them react the way you do.” He reached for a note lying on the edge of the desk and began to read. “Loss of consciousness, seizures, vomiting... Shall I continue?”  

“I know. It’s my description. What are you getting at?”  

“At first, I thought you were just a tragic case—someone allergic to shimmer. But after blood tests...”  

“Blood tests?!?” you snapped, leaping from the chair.  

He didn’t even flinch. You had to brace yourself against the desk to keep from losing balance. You’d stood up too quickly, and now dark spots danced before your eyes.  

“Sit down, please. You shouldn’t push yourself right now,” he said gently.  

You dropped back into the chair, not knowing what to think.  

“Have you been testing me?” you asked quietly, hoping you were mistaken.  

“To be honest, it wasn’t me but a scientist I know.”  

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,” you spat through clenched teeth.  

“I had to figure out why you reacted to shimmer like that—you understand,” he added, spreading his hands.  

He spoke about it as if it were normal. What a bastard. You felt sick.  

“When?”  

“When you passed out on the balcony. If you want to know, I have the results with me.”  

“I should walk out of here right now and never come back. You know that,” you whispered, burying your face in your hands.  

This wasn’t happening. It was... disgusting. He’d taken advantage of you when you were most vulnerable. Who knew what else they had tested on you? You should pound him into the ground. You had every right to. But you knew that the moment you raised a hand against him, a crowd of people ready to kill you at his command would appear.  

The problem was, you needed answers before deciding whether to quit.  

“I understand that apologies won’t work,” he began, carefully choosing his words. “But I think, before you stomp out of here, you’d like to learn something about yourself.”  

“You have one chance to tell me what’s going on here.”  

“Charming. Do you really think you’re in a position to set the rules?”  

“Has anyone ever told you you’re vile?”  

You deliberately fixed him with a glare, pouring as much hostility into it as you could muster. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fazed. Worse, he held your gaze. A shiver ran through your body. Breaking eye contact almost hurt.  

“Plenty of times. You’re not the first. I’m not trying to be... vile, as you put it. It’s about this.”  

He pulled a vial of the drug from his pocket.  

“Shimmer? What, are you trying to drug me now?”  

He shook his head, completely unaffected by your anger. You gripped the armrests, feeling the wood creak beneath your fingers. Holding the vial in his hand, he gently unscrewed the cork with his thumb. In an instant, you felt a familiar pain before Silco sealed the container and placed it in a desk drawer.  

“You’re addicted.”  

“I told you, I don’t take it,” you growled, fighting to catch your breath.  

“I know. I’m trying to help you. I’ll be completely honest with you. Zarys disappeared along with his entire workshop. That sample you just saw is the only one he didn’t manage to destroy before he fled. Whatever drove him out of hiding was scarier than you in withdrawal. This isn’t shimmer,” he concluded with disdain.  

“Fled? Where?”  

“We don’t know. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to show you something.”  

Silco seemed different. The malice and superiority he’d displayed during your last encounter were gone. He looked at you with concern as if he genuinely cared about your condition. That was impossible. He cared about no one but himself and his adopted daughter. He didn’t know you. He had no reason to be kind without ulterior motives. He wanted something from you again.  

“Just tell me what you want from me,” you murmured, exhausted.  

“Nothing you don’t consent to,” he said quickly, standing and approaching you. “The tests revealed that this variant affects genetic coding. Yes, yours too. I don’t yet know exactly what it’s done to you, but I can find out—if you want. If you let me.”  

God, he was too close. He smelled of leather and smoke. His overwhelming presence suddenly felt comforting. Whatever was influencing your reactions and how you looked at him couldn’t be your own. You didn’t have thoughts like this. This was Silco, for gods’ sake!  

“I still don’t understand why I’m here,” you said, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him.  

“We need you here. In controlled conditions. You’re having adverse reactions just to the smell of this substance.”  

His stance betrayed impatience and expectation. You had something he wanted, and he was trying to obtain it.  

“So, what? You want me to be a guinea pig?”  

“No,” he denied immediately. “Giving you this could mean your death.”  

You sobered in an instant, straightening in your chair. The thought of your own death from an overdose was far from pleasant. You’d always thought you’d die from a gunshot or a knife wound, certainly not from some substance laced with something worse than shimmer.  

“The first time I had shimmer in my mouth was here, at the bar. I know you fired the bartender. Was he involved in this too?”  

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’d received reports of dead bodies being found near the Last Drop with clear signs of shimmer use. You understand what terrible PR that gives me. When you said you’d also ingested it, I saw a perfect opportunity to learn more about the variant,” he glanced at you quickly but didn’t linger. “I give you my word that besides drawing blood, no one has done anything to you.”  

You were probably making a huge mistake, but you believed him. He could be irritating and downright mean, but he’d never harmed you. The other day, you’d been terrified when your body had started reacting on its own. If you had the chance to rid yourself of this or learn to control it, you had to take it. You never knew when you might smell it again or how you’d respond.  

“If you don’t plan on giving it to me, then what?”  

“There’s nowhere I can safely analyze it. I don’t want to hand it over to a lab. Until Sevika finds connections, I can’t trust my people like I used to. Here, in a place I know is secure, we want to see if you can detect the drug without having to approach it.”  

“You know, when I signed up for this job, I thought I’d be stealing for you, not sniffing out drugs.”  

He sighed—not out of irritation, though. He rubbed his mouth with his fingers, searching for the right words.  

“I said nothing you don’t agree to. You can stop at any time. You’ve proven your usefulness. I’d prefer not to lose a valuable spy.”  

You eyed him suspiciously, searching for signs of deceit in his expression. But he was completely honest. That seriousness and sincerity made you squirm in your chair. You were ready for a verbal sparring match where you could call him out for being a terrible person. But he was offering not only help but also freedom of choice. They had a sample; surely, they could study it another way.  

He needed you more than you needed him.  

“Fine, I’ll do it.”  

Chapter Text

Right after you left his place, you had to sit down for a moment on the stairs leading down. The conversation hadn’t worn you out as much as those few seconds of being exposed to the drug’s fumes.

Your whole body rebelled against it, while simultaneously craving more and more.

You’d received notes from the guy who ran blood tests on you. Genetic code mutation. It sounded worse than terrible. You’d once had the misfortune of witnessing the side effects of using that filth.

Did that mean you’d turn into one of those monsters too?

You glanced at your hands but didn’t see any traces of violet under your skin. Of course, the guy’s handwriting was atrocious, but from what you managed to decipher, you’d learned exactly nothing. Beyond the clear traces of shimmer in your system, there wasn’t anything else. Just thinking about that stuff coursing through your body made your skin crawl.

Whatever was in that variant of the drug, it made you lose control of your body. One whiff of its scent was enough to leave you writhing on the ground, unable to catch your breath.

To think you’d had it in your mouth.

The thought alone made you sick.

You didn’t even want to imagine what happened to people who drank it in large quantities, convinced they knew the product. If not for Silco, you’d probably be lying in some dark alley as yet another overdose victim.

In just a month of working for him, you’d gone from being a spy to a test subject.

You almost preferred leaping across rooftops, risking your life, to having any further contact with that stuff. But you needed to know who your enemy was.

During your one conversation, Silco had repeatedly emphasized that it was entirely your decision and that you could quit at any time. Silco—that Silco—was giving you free rein without forcing you into anything. That fact alone highlighted just how delicate and dangerous the situation was.

This wasn’t just about the suffering you risked by continuing to spy on Zarys.

No, now anyone carrying the drug could incapacitate you without even pulling a weapon. A horrible, cruel weapon. If there were more people like you, whoever was making this filth could build themselves a neat little army.

You couldn’t believe Zarys was behind it all.

He was just a pawn in the game.

Just like you.

Silco dealt some of the cards.

The question was, who held the rest of the deck, and what else were they hiding up their sleeve?

There was no room for fair play here.

Your thoughts buzzed like persistent flies. You knew a way to straighten them out and put them in their place. It typically involved annoying Sevika. Unfortunately, you weren’t a docile lamb who dropped everything when she beckoned.

For years, money had been the only thing that spoke to you, and that was hard to change. Unless she could offer you some sort of bonus for obeying her like a trained puppy, you weren’t about to dance to her tune.

You needed familiar ground. Somewhere that still held remnants of the person you were before the events with shimmer.

Stuffing the documents into your backpack, you didn’t care if they got crumpled. Reaching the tower wasn’t easy but doable. They hadn’t imposed a curfew on you yet. You had to make use of the night.

Here, between the buildings, there was no air circulation. All the smells—pleasant and revolting—blended into a tangled mix, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Was anyone surprised you always sought a way above it all?

The entire way to the tower, you kept your face covered with a scarf. Nobody cared. Enough time had probably passed for Finn’s men to give up for good, but in your current state, you weren’t about to take any risks. Nobody even gave a second glance at another masked figure darting from shadow to shadow.

You paused for a moment near the tower, scanning your surroundings. Every day, you wondered when the place would be overrun by squatters or when some gang would decide it was a good idea to claim the building for themselves.

There were precious few things left in Zaun that had any value to you. The old library was one of them. You’d been coming here for years whenever you needed peace and air.

As always, you checked the camouflage around the hatch before slipping through a narrow gap and quietly sealing the entrance behind you. You took a deep breath, savoring the familiar smells. Honestly, you could stay here. The chances of anyone finding you were slim.

The upper city looked the same as always. A constant, unchanging element. Frankly, it was rather boring. But pleasing to the eye. You admired the white walls, knowing such a thing would never fly in the lower city. It was as if they were mocking you, mocking the poor who surrounded themselves with whatever they could find for shelter. The council didn’t care about the lower city. As long as you didn’t cause them problems, they didn’t even try to help.

“Damn them all,” you muttered, wiping your nose.

You pulled a bottle of cheap liquor from a crate. You felt the need to dull your nerves before they blew your head apart.

But you hesitated.

The last time you allowed yourself a strong drink, it ended in addiction. But this bottle was from Leon. You could trust him, right? Even so, you put it back in the crate.

Escape seemed like the best option now.

Could anyone blame you?

If you got far enough from shimmer’s reach, you might be able to forget it for good. Not fear that everything sweet was actually vile.

But you couldn’t.

Despite everything you’d told yourself over the years, you actually liked this city. It was dangerous and broken… but it was yours. And you had a chance to help it, somehow. Even if you were only fixing a problem Silco himself had caused, you didn’t want to leave innocent people at the mercy of the drug. Let the scumbags die in agony, but the thought of children unknowingly trying shimmer for the first time…

“I knew this would happen,” you muttered angrily to yourself, shoving your belongings into your backpack.

When you found Sevika at the Last Drop, you weren’t sure how you’d get her to talk. She was upstairs, in one of the quieter corners, fleecing yet another group of idiots at cards. Surprisingly, she chased them off when she saw you and focused all her attention on you.

“Ready to talk like adults?”

“I’ve already agreed to the experiment, but I have a few conditions.”

“Of course you do,” she said with a slight smirk, leaning back comfortably on the wide couch.

She sat there, confident in her abilities. Legs spread wide, one arm draped over the backrest, and, as always, a cigarette between her lips. You focused your tired mind on the rules you’d been formulating on the way back.

“I’m not moving in here. You can see how absurd that is. I’ll stay in my own room, ready to be summoned by the boss.”

“What else?”

“You won’t lock me in a cage again,” you said firmly, hoping your voice didn’t betray how terrified that idea made you.

“Fair enough. Anything else on your mind?”

“Are you actually going to agree? Or will Silco?”

"I have free rein to manage your person, provided you show up on time for him. Every day."

She reached for the bottle standing on the table between you. Taking a hefty swig, she let a few drops trickle down her chin. She seemed relaxed, almost at ease... No, you preferred her when she was terrifying.

"I don’t doubt that. He just wants to get rid of this damn thing. You have my word: I won’t try anything on my own or run away."

"If you’re done, it’s time for my condition," she waited for your nod before continuing. "I’ve got nothing against you, but I don’t trust that thing inside you. At the facility, you can do as you please. But outside it and Last Drop, one of my people is always with you."

Your heart sank. So much for freedom. They hadn’t locked you up, no. They just loosened the chain tying you down.

"Fine, but I get to pick my escort. If I have to spend every day with a guy who reeks of onions, I’d probably kill myself."

"Agreed," she replied, extending her hand.

You shook it, pleased with the outcome. You wanted Sara. She was easy to manipulate and seemed to enjoy talking to you. You could probably persuade her to leave you in peace without reporting to Sevika.

Of course, Sevika hadn’t revealed how the whole experiment was supposed to unfold. Probably not even Silco knew exactly what he expected from it. Asking her wouldn’t help, especially since she wasn’t in the mood for business talk.

You left her, and she didn’t even notice your disappearance. On your way home, you thought about the mutation shimmer supposedly gave you. It was plausible, but only if taken in large doses. Could you do more than before? Not that your skills from years of practice weren’t enough, but if you could gain an edge over an opponent without turning into a monster...

Your room was blissfully peaceful. Unfortunately, someone had closed the window to protect the furniture from rain, and now everything reeked again. No one else would notice the difference, but you did.

Angrily, you pushed the window frame open, slamming it against the wall. Somewhere in the distance, you heard the laughter of drunkards returning home, but in your mood, they might as well have been singing you a lullaby.

***

Last Drop was closed from six in the morning until three in the afternoon. That was how much time you had for your fun before the first customers showed up. You used to think the place was alive around the clock, but maybe you just didn’t go out enough during the day.

You shifted nervously, knowing there’d be no turning back once you crossed the threshold. You clutched your jacket tightly. Despite the pleasant weather, you couldn’t part with it. Without the grumpy bouncer at the door and the dark windows, the place looked nothing like itself.

You pushed the door open with your full weight.

Were you supposed to go to him? Was he even here during the day?

You looked around the venue, sensing it was your only chance to take it all in. When the press of sweaty bodies surrounded you, all you thought about was escaping as quickly as possible.

Now, with so much space, you could stretch your arms out wide. Most of the lights were off, only a few casting a soft white glow. What had this place been like when Vander was alive?

Lacking a better plan, you sat at one of the tables and began cleaning your gear. You’d forgotten about it for too long. The lockpicks needed oiling to prevent rust. Your knives also required care. Distracted by other problems, you’d forgotten that without them, you weren’t as useful.

"You’re late."

Silco descended soundlessly. You glanced sideways. He was in the middle of rolling up his sleeves. Something about the motion made your ears burn. You looked away, focusing on an engraving.

"I was on time. You were upstairs, lost to the world."

You tried to fix the engraving, but the blade slipped and cut your thumb. Instinctively, you stuck your finger in your mouth without thinking.

"If you’re this clumsy, maybe you shouldn’t play at being a spy?"

Suddenly, he was standing in front of you. Keeping his distance, he rested his hands on the back of the sofa, staring at you as if you were an exhibit in a museum.

"Lay off," you muttered, searching for something to stop the bleeding. Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of you, offering a handkerchief. You took it with slight hesitation.

"Thanks."

"I hope your mood swings won’t ruin our sessions."

You hid your injured thumb behind your other fingers, clenching your hand into a fist.

"What exactly do you want to achieve? So far, I haven’t heard a word about the plan."

He circled the sofa and took a seat opposite you, assuming a position similar to Sevika’s yesterday but crossing one leg over the other. You’d been wrong about his office. It wasn’t the place that made you lose your composure. It was Silco himself.

"I have you for six hours every day. During that time, you’ll be exposed to the drug. I want to see if you can sense it from a distance and, if so, what the range is. We’ll play a game of hide-and-seek."

Damn it, you knew it. You knew he wouldn’t take this seriously. Was it so hard to treat you as an equal? You were in this together, after all. But no, even now, alone, he thought he could play games with you.

"So what? I count to ten while you hide?"

He smirked, unsure of his own plan. You didn’t have one, but he didn’t need to know that.

"Something like that."

You snorted and shook your head.

"Can you be serious?"

He shifted his position, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. At last, his face took on something resembling seriousness.

"We have no idea how this works. I have a plan, but before I let you in on it, I need to test it. Question for you: are you still in, or not?"

The way he explained it made it sound simple. But he couldn’t know how torturous it was to even smell that stuff from afar. The mere thought set your muscles ablaze. For him, it was a game; for you, pure torture. Sometimes you doubted whether he truly cared about your fate or if he’d sacrifice you for a greater cause. Would he accept it if you set boundaries?

"Silco..."

It was the first time you’d used his name to his face. Something flickered in his eyes, but he caught himself in a second and took over the conversation.

"I know you’re scared. I don’t blame you. I’ll repeat this every time if you need me to. You can back out at any moment. But if you agree to my terms, I want you to take this seriously. No slacking off or cheating. Tell me everything you feel. Whether it’s boiling blood or an approaching hunger. Clear?"

Gods, how did he do it? He spoke softly and calmly, but you could feel something else in his words. You wanted to believe it was concern. He waited patiently, studying your face. That gaze made your cheeks burn. You had to focus on something else to avoid constantly glancing at his shoulders. Christ…

"Alright, so, shall we begin?"

He smirked.

"You have this strange habit of refusing me and then agreeing before I’ve even said anything. Get up."

You gasped, feeling your heart skip a beat. What a man. You stood obediently, unsure what to do with your hands. You tucked the bloodied tissue into your pocket.

"Should I close my eyes? I don’t know what to do."

"If you’d stop talking so much, I’d have time to explain everything," he chastised curtly. "But yes, close your eyes. We’ll start slowly. Without looking, see if you can tell where I’m standing. I’ll only be a few steps in front of you."

Closing your eyes around him felt like playing with fire. Now, he could kill you, but strangely, you trusted him. He began circling you silently, like a cat. You hadn’t even known he could move like that.

Your hearing was sharp, so you turned your head toward the faintest rustle. This was supposed to be a test for detecting the drug, not some dance for the blind. You plugged your ears with your hands to focus entirely on your reactions.

Finally, he opened the vial, and in an instant, you doubled over. You gasped for air, lungs tightening, fighting the urge to lunge at him and snatch the vial from his hands. The scent surrounded you, not just invading your nostrils but your skin as well. Where your skin was exposed, sweat broke out.

You sank lower, closer to the ground. When your knees hit the wooden floor, the smell vanished.

You wiped your forehead with part of your shirt, but it took several minutes before you could look up. You wondered why Silco was silent, but when you focused on him, you saw pure fear.

You wanted to laugh, to throw out a sharp Told you so, but when you opened your mouth, you tasted blood. You wiped your lower lip with the back of your hand. Your dazed mind didn’t fully register that you were coughing up blood.

Silco knelt beside you, close enough for you to hear his labored breathing. He didn’t try to touch or console you.

"Do you want…" he began, but his voice broke.

Oddly, you tried to spare him. You pulled the tissue from your pocket and pressed it to your mouth. Your own blood had a distinct taste—fortunately, apart from the metallic tang, there was nothing unusual.

"I’m fine," you rasped. "But I wouldn’t mind a glass of water."

He snapped out of it, returning to his composed demeanor. Only his hands betrayed him, trembling slightly as he handed you a glass.

"Can you continue?" he asked after a moment.

"Seriously? I almost coughed up my lungs, and you want to keep going?" you asked, but seeing the fear return to his eyes, you quickly added, "Sure, why not."

He shook his head, perhaps slightly amused.

The subsequent attempts went similarly.

He stood far too close, giving you no time to combat the scent. You had to insist he step back before you could roughly pinpoint his position. All you managed was identifying whether he was more to the left or right.

During breaks, you wondered what was going through his mind. You didn’t think someone like him was even capable of fear. Yet, with each passing hour, your banter about the situation grew sharper. Only the dried blood at the corner of your mouth reminded you that you had no idea what damage this drug could cause.

You didn’t want to be the first to give up. You fought bravely every time. As he wanted, you described everything to him: the pounding in your ears, the strange flashes you saw behind closed eyelids, the intense irritation on your skin. You felt… something strange toward him. He asked about every detail, and with your eyes closed, you revealed even your body's tiniest reactions—things he couldn’t see himself. At some point, you could sense where he was even without the vial. Something was drawing you toward him.

Too much.

"Stop!" you shouted, leaning against a bar stool. "I’ve had enough."

"You lasted longer than I expected," he said.

You bent over the stool, knowing that straightening up would only make you cough up blood again. His hair was disheveled, part of it falling over his forehead. How dare he look tired when you were the one risking your life? He approached the bar, rummaging through the shelves before pulling out a bottle. He offered it to you with a gesture, but you shook your head. Wordlessly, he pushed a glass of water toward you. You’d drink it if you had the strength to lift your hand.

You wanted to say something, but blood filled your mouth. You felt yourself choking on it before everything went dark. Weak as you were, you couldn’t call for help. You thought you saw Silco running toward you, but it was all a blur.

The rhythmic pounding that seeped through the walls had been waking you for some time, but you needed a moment to realize you weren’t dreaming. No, you couldn’t call it a dream. You had been floating in darkness, waiting for your body to come back to life. For a moment, you thought you were dead, but the rhythm you heard wasn’t music—it was the beating of your heart.

You opened your eyes, feeling your sluggish limbs not responding correctly. It was like you’d slept for hours. Your head ached terribly, but you were used to waking up in pain by now. At this point, the absence of pain would have been more shocking.

"You hold on to life tenaciously," you heard beside you.

You turned your head, searching for the speaker. Of course, Silco. You were lying on the couch in his office. He sat on the other side of the desk, staring out the massive window made of unevenly cut glass panes.

"What happened?"

When he shifted his gaze to you, you saw only emptiness on his face.

"You started choking on blood. I didn’t know how to help you, so I carried you somewhere safe," he said, then fell silent, which was unlike him. "We can’t do this again. It’s too dangerous."

You tried to sit up, but your limp arms wouldn’t support your weight. Anger flared within you.

"Seriously? You lecture me about needing to understand what this variant is, and now you’re backing out?"

He shot to his feet, shouting:

"You nearly died!"

Anger gave you strength. You managed to sit up enough to face him properly. How dare he.

"I’m risking my life for your stupid experiment," you growled through clenched teeth. "You didn’t want to listen when I said this wasn’t a pleasant experience. I trusted you had a plan!"

He turned his back to you, one hand burying itself in his hair.

"I have a plan. And I’m sure it will work."

"Then what’s the problem?"

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his lips pressed tightly together as though holding back words.

“Did you lie to me?”

“What are you talking about now?”

“Did you hide something from me? Downstairs, when I asked if everything was fine?”

You frowned, unable to figure out where that thought had come from. You’d barely escaped with your life, and now he had the audacity to question your words?

“No, I didn’t hide a single thing,” you replied honestly. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

He slammed his hands on the desk with such force that you flinched, lowering his head.

“I thought I’d killed you.”

You were stunned, unable to do anything but stare blankly at his back.

“Well, that’s new,” you muttered.

“Sevika will be here soon. I sent the doctor to the facility. Don’t come in tomorrow.”

He was shaken, angry, and almost ran out of his own office, slamming the door behind him. As though it were your fault for daring to hang on the edge of life and death. Was he kidding?

But had you ever truly taken orders seriously?

When Sevika found you still in the office, she was less than pleased about having to carry you out. Your legs were barely functional, and you wanted to leave before Silco decided this conversation wasn’t finished. You exited through the back door, and the moment The Last Drop was out of sight, you ordered her to put you down. She huffed, furious, but eagerly dropped you.

Your knees were still wobbly, but you managed to walk. Sevika teased you, growling that you were dragging your feet, though it was clear she was too shaken by your condition to react as she usually would. She’d lost her knack for striking where it hurt most, though you were hurting everywhere.

When you finally reached your room, you collapsed onto the bed and immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You woke to a loud banging on your door. The pillowcase clung to your cheek, damp from drool. You were stiff but in a good way. Rested. Clear-headed. None of yesterday’s pains lingered. It was as though the incident had never happened.

Sevika barged in, indifferent to whatever you were doing.

“Get up. Breakfast won’t be served much longer.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” you yawned.

She threw a bundle of clothes at you.

“Say that again, and I’ll cut your tongue out. No time. Get dressed.”

You pinched your cheeks to shake off the last remnants of sleep. Under her impatient glare, you dressed faster than you ever had, probably putting on mismatched socks. She nearly shoved you out of the room, unconcerned about the bird’s nest your hair had become.

As you ran after her, trying to tame it, she said, “I’ve got another task for you. If you’re cheeky enough to talk back, you’re well enough to work.”

You dug your heels in, stopping abruptly.

“No.”

Sevika turned, surprised by your defiance.

“Are you refusing an order?”

“I haven’t finished the last one. I’m going back to The Last Drop today.”

She lunged at you, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a side corridor, blocking the exit with her body.

“No way. Not after what happened yesterday.”

“This isn’t just about him. I’m in this up to my neck. Any moment now, this could hit the streets. And then what? We both know what his main source of income is.”

She stared at you, shocked but with a flicker of admiration.

“You want to go back and subject yourself to more torture, knowing you might die? You’ve got guts.”

“Someone has to,” you muttered.

Silco had infuriated you with his behavior, and you couldn’t let it slide. If you agreed to stop the experiment, it would show him he could toy with you. He didn’t have the right to suffer—not when you had bled out on the floor because you trusted him.

You wondered if Sevika would get in trouble for letting you leave the facility. No, the real question was whether Silco had explicitly ordered you to stick to ordinary assignments. If not, he could shove it.

Whatever was in your blood seemed to speed up your recovery. As though the drug wouldn’t let you die, clinging to you. Walking toward the bar, you clenched your fists, feeling stronger than usual. It was likely due to the solid sleep and a double breakfast. It felt good to have your muscles working without a hitch. You weren’t pretending to be stronger than you were—you truly felt capable of continuing the experiment.

As you stepped through the door, memories flooded back. Your gaze wandered over familiar spots—the couch, the bar stool, the floor where you’d collapsed time and time again. You approached the bar, satisfied to see that someone had thoroughly cleaned the bloodstains.

You were late. Supposed to report in at nine, and it was well past ten. But you doubted Silco expected you to show today. That thought pleased you. You wanted to see his face when he realized you were back on your feet.

Taking the stairs two at a time, your confidence wavered as you neared his office door. Silco wasn’t your friend. He was your boss. Such insubordination could get you fired. Yet something told you he wouldn’t let go of someone who could uncover the source of the blend.

You knocked three times, as always. Expecting silence, you were surprised when you were immediately given permission to enter.

Slipping in quietly, you shut the door with a soft click. Silco sat with his back to you, reading—probably a report. A sly smile tugged at your lips. You waited for him to turn around.

“Do you have the… What the hell are you doing here?!”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. He was genuinely shocked. The expression on his face made the risk of losing your job worth it.

“You said it yourself. You’ve got me for six hours. I’m late, I know. Dock my pay if you must.”

“You weren’t supposed to leave the facility. How did you slip past Sevika?”

You shrugged.

“I didn’t sneak. I just walked out.”

He gripped the edge of the desk, rising slowly.

“Turn around and go back. Now.”

Unbelievable. Just yesterday, he’d argued vehemently that this was the only way to track down the dealer. Now, he was withdrawn and cautious, avoiding your gaze.

“No,” you said, stepping closer. “You can’t dismiss me now. You promised to help me.”

“You don’t understand,” he growled. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“I felt it, damn it!” you shouted, unsure how to get through to him. “Anyway, when you snap out of this irrational fear, I’ll be downstairs.”

You turned on your heel and left.

You were digging your own grave. Taking a huge risk, as always. Stomping angrily, you paced down the stairs. You were wasting time. He was sitting locked in his four walls, thinking he had the right to act like this. He hadn’t felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

You went behind the bar and started looking at the bottles.

You remembered bits and pieces from Leon's stories. He would brag and exaggerate, but in one thing he was right: his signature drink was amazing. You thought you remembered the ingredients. This place was far better stocked than Leon’s bar. You found what you needed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open any of them. The memory of violet specks at the bottom of the glass still haunted you.

“Get a grip,” you growled at yourself.

You criticized Silco for his fear while you yourself saw shimmer in every bottle of alcohol. Hypocrite. You put the uncapped bottle back on the shelf. Leaning your hands on the counter, you repeated to yourself that nothing was wrong.

You weren’t turning into a monster. Yet panic kept stretching its arms further and further toward you. Earlier, adrenaline had helped push it away, but now you lacked that spark.

With one smooth motion, you grabbed the bottle and pressed it to your lips. The smell alone burned. You let the alcohol slide down your throat. It was too big a gulp. You coughed as the familiar warmth spread through you. You wiped your mouth with the back of your free hand. Turning around, you realized you had an audience.

“I could dock your pay for that,” he said, holding a glass of amber liquid.

He looked tired. As he came closer, you noticed the deep shadows under his eyes. You didn’t want to pity him. You wanted to stay angry.

“You look terrible,” you pointed out.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” he replied, unfazed by your barbs, and sat across from you.

A faint smile crossed your lips. You had regained control of yourself; the panic was gone, burned away by the alcohol—for now. Without looking at him, you started adding ingredients to a glass. The silence between you was comfortable. You didn’t feel the need to prove your point. In fact, you kind of understood him. That scene could have been pretty terrifying.

“What are you doing here?”

“As far as I remember, we agreed I would test my ability to track the drug,” you replied.

“No,” he shook his head. “How did you end up working for me?”

“By accident,” you shrugged. “I was invited to a meeting that took place downstairs. You probably know about that.”

“Of course. I know everything that happens in the city.”

“Honestly, I doubt that. But sure, let’s go with it,” you said, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. “I participated in a trial. Clever trick with the hidden gas tank. Unfortunately, things went downhill after that. We were supposed to find something in an old factory.” You delved into the memories, again seeing the ponytail and the dead, vacant eyes. “Some kid, probably my age, found a figurine. People went at each other. I didn’t even notice when the first ones started dying. I watched everything from above. You know, some girl got ahead of me. I had to find another way.” You looked him straight in the eyes and finished, “I’m alive only because I wasn’t fast enough. I brushed with death more times than I’d like.”

“You said you were invited. By who?”

“Leon. He runs a place not far from here. Thought I had potential. I figured it was worth a shot.”

“So you didn’t want to work for me?”

The memories faded for a moment. Something was happening. He wouldn’t be asking so many questions unless he was looking for one specific answer. Still, it was nice talking to him. You liked that his exhaustion made him candid. Why not take advantage? But you had to give something in return.

“No, I didn’t. I doubt anyone would want to, if they had other options.”

“Am I really that terrifying?” he tried to joke, though it came off rather pitifully.

“I took the job because I needed the money. That’s it. I don’t have any deeper feelings about you. Working for a gangster isn’t exactly my dream job.”

“I can’t blame you,” he raised his empty glass in a mock toast.

Was he drunk?

“Where’s this coming from? Why all the questions?”

He sat sideways to you, one arm resting on the bar, holding his entire weight. In the other hand, he held the glass, studying it from different angles.

“I thought I’d killed you. Yesterday. I thought I’d let my desire for answers blind me. Again. I promised to help you. And instead, I almost got you killed. I’m sorry.”

It was so sudden you didn’t know what to say. The earlier anger you’d felt was gone. In fact, you felt a little guilty for reacting so harshly.

“Instead of wallowing in self-pity, maybe you could finally tell me why I’m supposed to be practicing this?”

Accepting gratitude from him wasn’t easy. It shattered the image you’d built from scraps of stories about him. It showed he could be sincere. You preferred the snide Silco. The one who could crush you with a flick of his finger. It was easier that way.

It was easier to pretend he was a monster, not a man destroyed by life.

Chapter Text

It never happened again.

Neither the spitting blood nor the conversations with Silco.

Whatever had prompted him to seek excuses to talk had vanished and wasn’t coming back. In truth, that worked out well for you. Whenever you caught yourself thinking about him—as a man who was once young and full of dreams—a new chapter seemed to open in your mind and stubbornly refused to close.

As if you didn’t already have your own problems to deal with. And now, on top of everything else, you found yourself analyzing Silco’s drunk behavior.

Still, you managed to convince him to continue the tests. He watched as you fired off words at a dizzying pace, not interrupting even once. Perhaps he had planned to agree with you all along but gave you the opportunity to vent. You had a feeling he wasn’t even listening to what you were saying, just waiting for you to finish. When he returned to his normal behavior, it became much easier to talk to him.

For the next few days, you arrived punctually at the Last Drop.

He was usually waiting downstairs, as if to spare you the effort of climbing the stairs. Or maybe he simply didn’t want you in his office. Either way, it suited you perfectly. You grew accustomed to the sight—always on the same couch, documents spread out in front of him. He would set them aside the moment you entered. Sometimes he made you wait until he finished whatever he was working on, but it never took longer than fifteen minutes.

During those moments, you had the chance to observe him. Occasionally, he glanced at you, looking annoyed that you were staring, but he never said anything about it. He was careful to keep his expression neutral in your presence.

Sometimes, though, when he thought you weren’t looking, his brows would furrow, and his face would take on a slightly worried expression. Whatever was troubling him, you weren’t the person he intended to share it with.

The tests began to gain a pace.

After spending hours each day exposed to the drug, you felt it wasn’t affecting you the way it had at first.

When you told Silco, he dismissed your theory, suggesting the liquid was probably losing potency. That could have been true, but you wanted to believe you were building a tolerance. Whatever awaited you out on the streets, you couldn’t let it incapacitate you from a distance. It still took your breath away and spread pain through your body, but you no longer collapsed to your knees. You considered that significant progress—as was Silco’s decision to significantly increase the distance between you and the drug. You could now search for it throughout the bar without closing your eyes. When he brought it up, you looked at him like he was insane.

"You want to leave that thing out in the open for me to find? Are you crazy?"

"If you think I’m going to let you dive onto the shimmer and pour it into yourself before I can stop you, then you’ve truly lost your mind."

He was being snarky. That was good. That, you understood. That was safe.

"I'm starting to get used to your half-baked ideas," you replied.

"Remind me," he said, "when was the last time you came up with anything smart?" He didn’t give you time to answer. "That’s what I thought. You’re not moving until I say so. Clear?"

You shrugged.

"You’re the boss."

He flinched. Almost imperceptibly, but you noticed.

"I’ll let you know when you can start searching. As soon as you sense something, you’ll tell me where it’s coming from. Not a step further."

That’s how you spent the last week.

You sat at the bar, attending to your tasks. He hid an open vial somewhere, then returned and didn’t let you out of his sight. He followed you like a shadow, his intense gaze burning into your back as you wandered through the rooms, waiting for that familiar prick behind your eyes. You could feel how tense he was, ready to grab you if you so much as reached for the shimmer. Unfortunately, his presence made it harder for you to concentrate.

It wasn’t as though the drug announced itself with that sweet, sticky scent. Silco’s ever-present smoky smell effectively masked it.

No, you could sense the shimmer before its smell even reached you. He never let you get closer than a dozen steps. Once you guessed the location, he made you return to the table and wait.

He remained hyper-alert during the tests, barely speaking a word to you. Many times, you felt like breaking the silence with idle chatter, but you knew Silco was avoiding engaging with you beyond work-related topics. It was starting to wear on you, so you deliberately sought mental distractions to keep from losing your mind. Sitting in silence for hours each day made your thoughts wander to the strangest theories. If he thought his silence and stormy demeanor would make you stop, he was sorely mistaken. You found it oddly satisfying to see him wrestle with irritation during one of your tangents.

But seriously, why had he named the drug shimmer when it didn’t even shine?

That question made him pause for a moment, slowly turning his head as if shocked anyone could ask something so stupid.

You paid no mind to his exasperated sigh.

You were having too much fun.

One morning, you woke up in a foul mood.

Your whole body ached as though someone had beaten you during the night. When Sara saw the dark circles under your eyes, she dropped her basket of vegetables in shock. She didn’t comment, but you could tell you looked like a walking disaster. You felt nauseous and couldn’t stomach any food.

On your way to the Last Drop, your companion chattered endlessly, just like every other day, but today her voice grated on your nerves. You pulled your hood tighter and tighter until you heard a soft rip at the back. Cursing under your breath, you realized you’d have to fix it later.

A few minutes more, and you were ready to throttle her just to make her stop talking. Thankfully, the Last Drop spared her your wrath. She left you at the door and hurried off to her own work. Perhaps she sensed you weren’t in the mood for company and didn’t want to push her luck.

Before stepping inside, you rested your forehead against the door, feeling its slick surface against your sweaty skin. The smell of wood and paint soothed your nausea a bit. The thought of spending hours in a closed room surrounded by the drug’s sweet scent and smoke made your stomach churn. You fought the urge to turn around and leave. That would only cause trouble with both Silco and Sevika.

You took a deep breath and reached for the handle. Peering inside, you weren’t sure you could manage to step in.

Silco was, as always, sitting to the right of the door. He didn’t react to your entrance, focused on whatever he was doing with his back to you. You hesitated, leaving the door ajar.

After a few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder.

"Do you have something to say?" he asked sharply.

Frowning at his condescending tone, you entered and slammed the door shut. Loudly, deliberately.

On any other day, you might have taken a seat across from him and waited for him to acknowledge you.

Not today.

You walked past him without a word and approached the bar. Rummaging among the bottles, you pulled out one with an orange hue and a sharp smell. You took a deep swig, but a strong hand snatched it from you.

"Hey! I was drinking that!" you shouted.

"Not the time," he replied.

The bar’s lights were the brightest in the entire room.

You lifted your head, fixing him with a blank stare. If he noticed the exhaustion on your face, he didn’t let it show, save for the tightening of his lips. He was acting like a jerk, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with his sulking just because someone had rubbed him the wrong way.

"I can't train today," you muttered, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples with two fingers.

"Turns out we don't have time for slacking, remember? No lazing around or cheating."

He really picked the perfect day to be an annoying pest.

"Oh, you can talk about something other than shimmer? Good to know," you snapped, searching for the bottle he'd taken from you.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," you sighed. "I just need a moment."

You grabbed your reclaimed prize and dragged your feet to the only place that could still vaguely calm your nerves.

Sassing Silco wouldn't end well; he wasn't the type to allow it—even from you.

And in this state, you were seeking any excuse to pick a fight. You didn't hear his footsteps behind you; he didn’t follow.

He knew you'd come back eventually.

The back door of the building, leading to a narrow stairwell, had been left ajar. You shoved it open with your shoulder, toppling some boxes stacked behind it. The sound echoed through the bar. Ignoring it, you trudged toward the stairs.

You needed to escape the suffocating air of the street below. Your legs felt like jelly and weighed several tons at the same time. Climbing the stairs was a monumental effort. Catching your breath after just a few steps was nearly impossible. Breakfast would’ve been a good idea. The world was beginning to spin. You pressed your thumb and forefinger to the bridge of your nose, trying to focus on something nearby, but nothing helped.

Fortunately, the door to the roof wasn’t locked. You half-expected Silco to have sealed this place off. The rooftop could be accessed from the neighboring buildings, but who’d be foolish enough to snoop around the Last Drop, right under the owner’s nose?

Cold air swept in, a welcome breeze against your face that temporarily eased your headache.

There wasn’t much space to walk around; just a few steps in either direction.

Not wanting to tempt fate, you sat down on the edge and dangled your legs over the shingles. You looked at your boots, their color standing out starkly against the roof.

Out of habit, you always dressed in black to blend into the shadows.

Now, though, you were an odd dark blotch on the rust-colored tiles. You tapped the toes of your boots together, humming a song your mother used to sing when you were little.

"Dear friend across the river, my hands are cold and bare…”

It was the only thing that connected you to her. She’d left when you were a teen.

Two years later, your father drank himself to death, heartbroken over her leaving.

You rolled your eyes at the memory. Wherever she’d gone, she was surely happier than she would’ve been here. There was no room for joy in the Undercity. Anyone who felt it was deluding themselves.

The urge to escape was stronger than usual today.

You grabbed the bottle, ready to drain it dry, but hesitated. Seeking solace in alcohol wasn’t the way out.

Not this time.

Instead, you poured the rest of the liquid onto the roof, watching it trickle between the tiles and disappear into the distance.

It wasn’t a cold or some other illness, you doubted that much.

You were weak enough to have caught some street-borne disease, sure, but you felt the real culprit was still the shimmer coursing through your veins, wreaking havoc deeper than you’d realized. Your reflection confirmed it.

Maybe you really were dying.

Leaning your head against the broken railing, you closed your eyes.

The wind swept away some of your anger and irritation, allowing you to breathe deeply without the sharp sting in your chest. For a moment, you were almost calm.

"I knew someone who used to hum that," came his voice.

You didn’t have the energy to turn toward him, nor the desire to look at him.

"Could you stop following me?" you asked softly.

"Have you forgotten? We have a deal."

Straightening up, you massaged the back of your neck with one hand.

He was the last person you wanted to talk to.

Actually, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, but him least of all.

First, he treated you coldly, and now, when you needed peace, he was following you and pestering you.

"I know, I know. You get me for six hours a day. Unfortunately, I remember. I just… I just need a moment to rest."

"Why’d you come up here if you’re feeling and looking like shit?"

"Am I to assume you’d let me skip the tests, then?"

You gripped the railing with one hand and rested the other on your knee as you slowly stood. You hated when he towered over you. It was infuriating.

"You’re useless today anyway. I might as well get back to my own work. I don’t like being made to wait."

"If I’m so useless, why not just dismiss me? No, you stand here and gloat because I had the audacity to have a bad day."

Suddenly, dizziness washed over you. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on your thighs to steady yourself. Something metallic rose in your throat. Silco took a step toward you but hesitated, unsure if you needed his help.

"You shouldn’t be standing here."

"And you shouldn’t be telling me what to do."

"You can barely stand."

His tone turned condescending again.

"I’m fine," you snapped back, though the spinning wouldn’t stop. You might’ve even swayed a bit. "And for the record—"

You tried to plant your feet firmly to prove your point, but your boot slipped off the roof’s edge. A loose tile slid out from underfoot, taking you with it. The drop came too fast for you to react. You flailed your arms, grasping for something, anything, to catch hold of. Your heart leapt into your throat.

What a miserable way to die. Falling off a roof like some clumsy amateur. You, who prided yourself on being an expert at navigating heights. Heights didn’t scare you; falling did. And this fall would certainly end in death.

Silco’s hand shot out, catching your arm in a vise-like grip. His fingers dug into your forearm as he clung to the railing to avoid being pulled down with you. He was surprisingly strong.

For a moment, time seemed to slow while everything happened in mere seconds.

Your heart pounded in your chest, driving blood through your veins at breakneck speed. The rush drowned out all external sounds. Silco’s terrified eyes locked onto yours. His reaction was instinctive, his grip unrelenting. You knew there’d be bruises come morning.

You breathed heavily through parted lips, afraid to move and break the fragile moment. You wanted to imprint the image in your memory, even as you hovered on the brink of death. This wasn’t the first time such danger had found you in his presence. Stray strands of his hair fell across his forehead. He looked spectacular—raw and real.

You almost wanted to smile at the sight, but the situation didn’t call for it.

The moment passed, but the image remained burned into your mind.

With surprising ease, he hauled you back up. For the first time in ages, you felt fear manifesting outwardly. Your hands trembled uncontrollably for far too long.

He held onto your arm a beat longer than necessary. A blink of an eye, but just enough to notice.

He quickly stepped back and fixed his hair. He was shaking. One hand rested on his hip while the other massaged his jaw. That was the moment you should have thanked him.

“Thank you,” you croaked in a slightly hoarse voice. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Let’s not stand here,” he interrupted, glancing around the rooftop as if someone might attack you both at any moment.

You felt awkward.

You really did want to thank him. He had saved your life once again, despite you often using him as a punching bag when your nerves got the better of you.

He looked as if your words not only annoyed him but outright enraged him. You shrank into your shoulders and stumbled slightly as you made your way inside. Your cheeks burned with shame.

What on earth were you thinking?

You had started imagining impossible things and now struggled when reality didn’t align with your fantasies.

A strong urge to flee warred with your exhausted muscles. In this state, you wouldn’t be able to outrun an elderly woman with a cane.

He was just a step behind you—impatient, irritated, and once again silent as though a million thoughts were clawing at his mind all at once.

When you reached the ground floor, he brushed past you and hurried over to the bar. He grabbed a glass sitting there and took his usual seat at the table.

You should probably go over. Sit down and wait. But your legs felt rooted to the spot.

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, a drink in one hand, his head hanging low. Whatever was troubling him wasn’t your concern, yet he did everything to make it feel like it should be. You wondered how he would react if you just walked out of the Last Drop.

“What symptoms are you experiencing?” he asked, still not looking at you.

“Symptoms of what?”

“You’re going through withdrawal. Just as I suspected, this variant…” he pulled a vial from his pocket, and the sight of it made something twist inside you. “…is unstable. It hasn’t been tested in proper conditions. We have no idea what it might do. You’re addicted to the very thought of this stuff.”

His hand clenched around the vial. He looked like he wanted to throw it against the nearest wall. He finished his drink in one gulp and slammed the glass down. He was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t focus on his words. Your attention was fixated on the purple liquid. You didn’t even realize you had started moving toward him like you were hypnotized until he tucked the shimmer back into his pocket.

Your thoughts snapped back into place, as if someone had pulled back a curtain.

“What?” you asked, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

He looked at you with a pained expression. He seemed like a man who had lost faith in the purpose of this experiment.

No, you needed him cold and calculated, with a clear plan of action, not broken. Someone had to think straight, and you couldn’t. The mere sight of shimmer in your vicinity rendered you useless.

“There’s one person in the entire city capable of analyzing your blood in a professional way. I think you should sit down. This isn’t going to be easy.”

He gestured to the seat across from him.

You were starting to feel afraid—more than usual. This wasn’t something you could run from. You couldn’t escape it unless you knew how to run away from yourself.

You sank onto the sofa, hiding your trembling hands between your tightly clenched knees.

“Spit it out,” you said, unable to bear the silence.

“Your cells are breaking down. Whatever is in that vial is laced with an insanely powerful stimulant. You didn’t die after consuming it only because you didn’t take too much. Yet even so, you’re spiraling into madness just thinking about it. Our… experiments only made your condition worse.”

“Sure, I feel awful today, but—”

“The first time we started messing around with this stuff, you noticed yourself that I was standing too close. I suspect something might have reentered your system. Correct me if I’m wrong. The next day, you felt better than ever, didn’t you?” You nodded. “You’re in withdrawal. You need another dose, or else…”

He trailed off, seemingly unable to utter the words. But you understood them. You knew what they meant. Until he said it outright, though, you clung to the hope that you were just overreacting and the truth wouldn’t be so bitter.

“And now what?”

He rested his forehead on his hand, battling his thoughts as if what he was about to say next was sheer heresy—a madman’s plan to hold onto life just a moment longer.

“We need to find Zarys or whoever is responsible for this and force them to talk. If they reveal the formula, I know someone who could counteract the effects of this.”

Say it already, you screamed at him in your thoughts.

“And if not? If Zarys is dead or refuses to cooperate? Then what?”

Silco lifted his head. The shadows under his eyes remained. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

“You die. You’re dying with every second we talk.”

“Then give me what’s in your pocket.”

“You must be insane!” He leaned back as far as he could, pressing his spine against the sofa.

“For someone who flooded the undercity with shimmer, you seem to have a remarkably narrow set of principles.”

He winced, as if you had slapped him across the face.

“I don’t hide who invented shimmer. Yes, I produce it and sell it to innocents. What do you think built all of this?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the city around you. “Do you think Zaun rose on the foundations of hope and faith? I do what I can to keep it alive, even if it means distributing a drug. But this… This is different. Whoever is behind this isn’t doing it for money.”

“You know, in a way, I profit off it too. I work for you, so I’m partially making a living off it,” you shrugged. “Maybe my morals aren’t as pure and perfect as those from Piltover, but I know one thing. I’d do anything to ensure the undercity doesn’t have to rely only on money from illegal trade. I’ve seen people overdose. While I’d rather run away to the ends of the earth, I owe a debt. I know more now. I can act and spare others from going through what I am. So, if you’d be so kind, stop tormenting everyone around you and give me the damn vial!”

Momentarily thrown by your outburst, he lost his composure. He stared at you as though you had said the most absurd thing in the world. He pulled the shimmer from his pocket, carefully studying your face. Your stomach twisted with hunger. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and your hands began to sweat. You swallowed hard and reached out.

“You could lose consciousness, start coughing up blood again. You could go insane. You could die. I won’t give it to you. We have no idea what will happen. I’ll send it to a lab. Giving it to you should be the absolute last resort.”

Annoyed by his behavior, you lunged slightly forward, trying to snatch the vial from his hands.

Unfortunately, you weren’t as quick as you used to be. You felt your body weakening. Your agility, which defined you, was slipping away.

Now, with trembling hands, you couldn't even pickpocket the dead.

He pulled his hand away, looking at you with disapproval. You sank back into your seat, taking deep breaths.

“Worth a shot,” you shrugged. “Say what you want, resist all you like, but you know full well that in this state, I can’t track anything. And you won’t manage on your own.”

His teeth clenched so tightly you could hear the grind.

It was ridiculous. He had no qualms about pushing shimmer into a child’s throat, yet he balked at giving it to you—a willing participant who agreed to every possible risk.

“No.”

“You’re so stubborn,” you groaned, drawing out the vowels. “I don’t know, just look away or something. Close your eyes or step outside if it’s so hard for you. You’re so sensitive.”

He stood up slowly. You instinctively leaned back, slightly nervous. Had you gone too far with your words? But he truly was acting strange.

“We’re doing this my way.”

“So, as always,” you rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He walked around the table and stood in front of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a shaky voice.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

He sat down beside you.

Instinctively, you shifted back a bit.

You watched as he raised his hands, your gaze darting from one to the other, unsure if he meant to strangle you. He uncapped the vial, and every thought vanished. Only the contents of the bottle mattered.

Nervously, you licked your lips, tasting sweetness as if it were already there. It mesmerized you.

Then something strange happened.

Silco held your head with one hand, gripping it from behind. He pressed the vial to your lips. You parted them, ready for surrender.

When the first drops slid down your throat, you made a strange, guttural sound. Your hands reached for the bottle—you needed more. You felt incredible. Strong. Your thoughts were clear again. You could move mountains. Everything seemed more vivid.

He took the vial away before you could even touch it. It didn’t matter. The shimmer—or whatever this variation was—was already coursing through your veins. Deprived of the scent, the drug lost some of its grip on you. Thanks to him, you could resist the pull much faster than last time.

Then the reality of what had happened dawned on you.

His hand was still on your hair. You sat so close that your legs touched in several places. You stared at him with wide eyes as though seeing him for the first time.

It was unsettling.

Intoxicating.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand and moved away. He didn’t comment on what had just happened, but you could tell he was affected.

“Ready to hear the plan?”

Chapter Text

Theoretically, everything should go smoothly.

At first, Silco wanted to wait until you were in better shape, but after taking the drug, you were ready to act immediately. According to his calculations, you had about a week before your body would demand more. Silco believed you might be more attuned to him now, which would allow you to find Zarys by following the unconscious traces he left behind.

Everything was always simpler in theory. 

You were supposed to meet near Zarys’s house on the outskirts before midnight, the time when the city was most dazed. You had insisted that Silco shouldn’t go in person, but he pointed out he didn’t exactly have the manpower for this.

Well, you couldn’t really order the boss around.

Gods, it had been so long since you felt this light.

You ran across rooftops faster than ever before. You leapt higher and maintained a steady breath longer. You knew you shouldn’t enjoy it—this was the effect of taking the drug. And yet, you reveled in the night, cherishing this fleeting freedom.

You jumped down near the house and quickly hid in the shadows of several barrels. You’d arrived earlier than expected and had time to assess the situation.

Silence reigned.

There was no sign that Zarys had returned to the house after leaving it. Many of the nearby homes had boarded-up windows.

If anyone still hid in these half-collapsed dwellings, they were likely minding their own business. 

You pulled your hood over your head and covered your face with a scarf. Vigilantly, you surveyed the surroundings until you heard footsteps nearby. They came from a parallel alley—the crunch of sand underfoot.

Was someone walking that loudly, or was shimmer sharpening your senses?

Fascinated by your new ability, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. The stranger couldn’t see you. You were too well-hidden. Like you, he was dressed in black. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him. Most of his face was concealed by a collar. He moved close to the walls as he walked down the street. Could this be Zarys? He seemed taller than a scrawny factory worker, and his posture was straighter. 

He strode with pride, almost as if... 

"Silco," you hissed softly, trying to catch his attention. 

The idiot seemed to have forgotten he wasn’t on his home turf. If something happened to him, Sevika would drown you in your own blood. He came closer, making no effort to avoid the moonlight that left him fully exposed. You grabbed his sleeve and forced him to crouch. 

"Have you lost your mind? Why are you exposing yourself?" 

A mocking smile lingered on his lips. Without his signature red eye, he looked even paler. 

"I appreciate the precautions, but this district has been abandoned for years," he replied in a theatrical whisper, then stood up again. 

You had no choice but to follow his lead. Brushing dust off your pants, you cracked your knuckles. 

"What now?" 

"We check if our assumptions hold up." 

If only it were that simple.

You had no idea what you were looking for. Zarys certainly wouldn’t have left shimmer-drawn arrows on the walls to guide you to him.

Walking around the house, you couldn’t detect anything—not even when you approached the window where you had once observed Zarys.

Kneeling by the bush near the spot where you’d first been attacked, you touched the ground. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

You decided there was no point in making another loop since no scent trail had lingered. You nodded to Silco and approached the front door.

The lock gave way within seconds, and you smiled with pride, pleased that you hadn’t lost your touch. 

A short entryway led to a kitchen combined with a living room. The layout was familiar. Dust covered the threshold, but the layer on the floor where you stepped was thin. Whoever had been here hadn’t moved past the second threshold.

The lab’s entrance had to be nearby.

You turned on a flashlight, scanning for clues. There were no doors or hatches. The cabinets flanking the room were too heavy to move every time. The wooden floor bore no signs of scuff marks. 

Opening a cabinet door, the smell of mildew hit you. Moldy clothes were decaying on the hangers. You shuddered, and the flashlight trembled in your hand. The beam of light reflected off a small ring.

Your heart raced.

Peering out through the door, you signaled Silco that it was safe to enter. He wasn’t suited for this kind of work, you thought, shaking your head in mild disappointment. 

The bottom of the cabinet had been cut out, forming a perfect square. Grabbing the handle, you pulled it open. The hinges squeaked, revealing a ladder. You descended first, knowing that part of his safety was now your responsibility. 

The lab was empty, just as he had said. The table where equipment once stood was barren. You tried to tread softly, careful not to make the wooden floor creak. Suddenly, the dim lamps overhead flickered on, flooding the basement with cold, milky light. You turned to see Silco pulling his hand back from the switch. 

"Did you forget we’re looking for evidence? Turn it off!" 

"Zarys fled in a panic," he replied calmly. "Whatever scared him off likely won’t return here." 

You huffed in frustration but refrained from commenting. You began to roam the basement, searching for clues. The musty air bore no trace of shimmer—you’d have sensed it immediately. Slipping your flashlight into your pocket, you braced yourself for the troubles this man might cause. 

"Do you even know what we’re looking for?" 

"Evidence. Don’t you remember?" 

You rolled your eyes. Zarys had taken everything, including samples and equipment. The shelves were empty. You checked every drawer but found nothing except scraps of food and an old pencil. It was all for nothing. Disappointment—such a dangerous feeling—you had to suppress it before it overwhelmed your mind. With a sigh, you sat on one of the tables, swinging your legs. 

"There’s nothing here. Maybe he didn’t flee but relocated." 

"You give up too quickly." 

"It’s not giving up—it’s the facts. There’s nothing here," you repeated, kicking your feet. 

It was easier for you. The drug still coursed through your veins, suppressing negative emotions. 

"Keep looking," he ordered. 

You hopped down, ready to search every nook and cranny again just to prove him wrong. When yet another drawer turned up empty, you shot him a meaningful look, which he ignored. As you moved, your sleeve snagged on a handle, yanking the drawer off its rails. It fell to the floor with a crash. Startled, you jumped back. 

"Can’t you control yourself?" he snapped irritably. 

You bent to pick it up, and a piece of paper detached from the bottom. You lifted it, reading aloud: 

"M. I’ve got what you wanted. Meet me at the docks. Z." 

Silco stepped closer, plucking the note from your hand. 

"Z must be Zarys. Whoever this was addressed to is based at the docks. Let’s go." 

"Are you out of your mind? Do you know how many factories and warehouses are in the docks? It'll take weeks before we find anything!"  

He turned toward you, a cruel smile twisting his lips.  

"Then we'd better get to work, don't you think?"  

He walked off without waiting for you. You had to catch up before he decided his reputation was stronger than bullets. He might have the city in his grip, but if the enemy saw him alone, without protection, they wouldn’t hesitate to take a shot. Silco had made too many enemies. People might fear or respect him, but the truth was, most of them just wanted him gone. If Sevika found out about this, you'd be in serious trouble.  

Half an hour later, you couldn’t hold it in anymore and finally opened your mouth. The two of you had been walking in silence the whole time. Silco seemed lost in thought.  

"Why are we going there alone? We’ve got evidence that Zarys is up to something. Wouldn’t it be better to gather our people first?"  

"We have confirmation he met someone at the shore. We don’t know who or when. For all we know, he might just be writing to his mistress. Before I issue an order and mobilize the team, I need to know who we’re dealing with. Unless, of course, you'd rather start a war blindly and watch others die in it?"  

"No, but—"  

"Your life would be much easier if you stopped questioning my decisions and started following them, as a proper employee should."  

The words hit you hard.

It was true you often pushed your luck, treating him as something other than your boss.

Usually, he put you in your place when you overstepped. You could threaten to storm off back to The Last Drop, but then he’d go alone. You growled under your breath and obediently followed behind him. The last thing you needed was for Sevika to find out.  

You trailed after him, watching the rhythmic sway of his arms. In his black leather coat, he didn’t stand out much from other residents. Though, admittedly, his attire was of better quality. You could judge a man’s worth, and Silco practically begged to be robbed. You didn’t doubt he could handle himself—it was just hard to believe. He was always giving orders, never dirtying his hands with the hard work, and he had people willing to kill for him.  

Lost in thought, you noticed the commotion too late. Someone was approaching. Soft footsteps echoed from several directions. You looked around, but couldn’t yet see anyone.

"We’ve got company," you warned him.  

He stopped beside you, resting his hand on the pistol at his belt. Seeing that made your anxiety spike—you had a bad feeling the fight would be unavoidable. You reached for your knife, ready to defend yourself.

Damn it, Sevika had been right.  

"Who do we have here?"  

A masked figure emerged from the corner, striding boldly and twirling a switchblade theatrically. The sight of Silco made him pause uncertainly, but the fact that they outnumbered you four to one seemed to boost his courage. You knew you didn’t stand a chance. You glanced at Silco, but his proud posture didn’t falter.  

"The big boss, the great Eye of Zaun, on a date with some cheap whore. Where do you buy such fine ones?"  

Laughter rippled through the group. Damn it, you still didn’t know where all the enemies were hiding.  

"I wouldn’t do that," Silco said, shaking his head like he was scolding a child.  

The speaker, likely the leader of the gang, stepped forward, aiming a battered blade in your direction.  

"My mother was killed by some drugged-up bastard. What do you think a man should do when faced with a murderer?"  

"Leave before he loses his life," Silco replied.  

Another round of laughter was cut short by a single gunshot. The mouthy leader dropped dead, Silco’s gun still raised, a wisp of smoke curling from the barrel. He’d been too fast—clearly keeping his true skills a secret. Unfortunately, he’d sparked a storm.  

Someone leapt on your back, and before you managed to shake them off, a burning pain slashed across your back.

Blindly, you twisted your knife and plunged it into something soft.

The attacker screamed in pain, loosening their grip.

You rolled away, scanning the chaos for Silco. He’d taken cover behind the corner of a building, firing with unnerving precision at the advancing gang.

There were too many of them. Even if he took out a few, you’d run out of bullets long before they ran out of bodies.  

"We need to run!" you shouted.  

You weren’t sure he heard you.

The attackers didn’t care that they were tangling with the most dangerous man in the city. They were either insane or stupid.

Bullets whizzed past.

Silco’s expression was fierce, as if determined to make an example of everyone who underestimated him. Maybe the stories were true—maybe he really was unhinged.  

You noticed the enemy closing in. You weren’t great with firearms.

Adrenaline surged through you.

You were both crouched on opposite sides of the street, hiding behind corners. Every now and then, bits of plaster crumbled as bullets struck.

You had to get him out of there before this madman got himself killed.  

You waited for the clouds to obscure the moon, casting shadows over the street.

It lasted only two seconds.

You rolled to the other side.

Silco was in a frenzy, unfazed by a bullet that had torn through his collar. Grabbing his hand, you pulled him after you. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to resist, but when he recognized you, he let you take the lead.  

You ran as fast as you could, trying to remember the area. From the ground, nothing looked the same. You had to get him out before either of you died.

You toppled barrels of dirty water and garbage bins to slow your pursuers.

There was no time to stop and fight back.

Silco stumbled slightly.

You grabbed his sleeve to keep him moving. He wasn’t used to this kind of exertion.  

When you saw the pipes on one of the buildings, you realized where you were—an old textile processing plant.

They used hot steam to clean grease and other contaminants. You planted your feet, stopping beside one of the thicker pipes. Aimed at it, and hot steam gushed into the alleyway. The blast obscured everything.

You rolled under the stream, feeling droplets of scalding water hit your cheek. Silco, caught off guard, hadn’t grasped what had happened. You had mere seconds before the pressure dropped and your cover was gone.  

You shoved him into a narrow passage between buildings, hiding behind crates filled with foul-smelling scraps. You covered your face with your sleeve to muffle any coughs that might give you away. As you’d guessed, they caught up when the steam died down, but the idiots ran straight ahead, thinking you were still fleeing.

You waited a full minute before peeking out. You didn’t hear footsteps or shouting. They must’ve gone far away.

Exhausted, you leaned against the wall, adrenaline fading.  

"I think we’re safe," you whispered. "What were you thinking!" you wanted to scold him, but then you saw how pale he was. His hand pressed against his shoulder, blood trickling between his fingers. "Silco?"  

He slumped to the ground.  

"No, no, no!" you shouted, dropping to your knees beside him.  

The wound wasn’t fatal, but if it wasn’t treated, he could bleed out. You didn’t know what to do.

The familiar parts of the city were too far, and you couldn’t drag him there alone. He probably wouldn’t have allowed it.

You yanked the scarf off your neck and pressed the fabric to the wound. You tried to remember what to do in such a moment, but your mind was blank.

Think, damn it!

First, shelter.

Then, focus on the gunshot.

You searched your memory for the path to the nearest safe place.

A wave of relief flooded your mind when you realized how close you were to the tower.

You threw his arm over your neck and helped him up. He was conscious, alive—that was the most important thing. You knew, though, that the pain was clouding his mind and turning off his reason.

Thankfully, he let you lead him. He breathed through his teeth, and each breath trembled. You reassured him that it wasn’t far, but deep down, you knew you were just trying to calm your own panicked heart.

You stopped at the mouth of the alley. You looked around for any signs of movement, but it was empty. You had to leave him for a moment to open the hatch. He leaned against the wall, watching your actions through half-closed eyes. The scarf was starting to shine in the light, meaning the blood had reached the surface. Your hands were trembling so much that you dropped the hatch handle.

“Can you make it inside?” you asked, terrified.

He nodded without a word. Considering the wound seemed pretty large, he was holding up well. He slid inside, awkwardly falling to the floor. You followed, dragging the hatch behind you. His breathing grew more shallow. If it went on like this, he’d faint from blood loss. You helped him sit against the wall. It was pitch dark. You turned on the flashlight to see something. His blood was on your hands as you removed the scarf.

“You have to,” he rasped, “extract the bullet.”

“Are you insane? I can’t do it! I don’t know how!”

He grabbed your hand. It was slick with blood. The smell made you feel faint. Panic was starting to take away your ability to speak.

“I have a flask in my coat. Disinfect the wound and remove the bullet. You can do it.”

“You’re safe here, I’ll go get help.”

You tried to stand, but his grip on your hand was iron-clad.

“You can handle it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and focused.

Help Silco, you kept repeating to yourself.

You believed he knew what he was saying. You cut off the sleeve with one of the knives.

The wound looked terrible. A huge, gaping hole, from which blood was steadily seeping. When you lifted the flashlight to get a better view, you noticed the bullet hadn’t lodged too deep. You poured something strong from the flask onto your hands and hesitated, looking for his approval before you poured it on his shoulder as well. He nodded, though he clearly wasn’t ready for the pain. His scream filled the building. You flinched at the sound. You were starting to breathe like someone who had just washed up on shore. Your vision blurred, but you kept following his instructions. He told you what to do, and his voice was the only thing that guided you.

The bullet had lodged between the bones, stopping on a fragment of the collarbone. It wasn’t broken, but professional medical expertise was still necessary. Using the knife and one hand, you slowly eased the bullet out of his shoulder. The wound bled even more. You pressed the clean end of the scarf to it and froze.

“It needs to be stitched.”

Those words filled you with even more terror. You had no idea where you were or what you were doing. You looked at his face, slick with sweat. He was holding up surprisingly well for someone who’d been shot and half-bandaged under extreme conditions.

“Stitched, right,” you repeated mechanically, looking around as though the necessary tools would magically appear beside you.

“Focus. Do you have the stuff here?”

He placed a hand on your shoulder and shook you as much as his wound allowed. It took a moment to process his words. It was like he was speaking in a foreign language.

When they finally reached your brain and formed one clear thought, you jumped to your feet and ran toward the stairs. You were terrified at the thought of leaving him alone downstairs.

Needle and thread. You had them. They were in a box by the rooftop door, for repairing damaged clothes.

Almost losing part of the supplies along the way, you dashed downstairs, hoping he hadn’t passed out during those few minutes you were gone.

He was lying against the wall with his eyes closed, trying to control his breathing.

When you knelt next to him, he looked at you with a tired glance. He instructed you on what to do. You dipped the thread in alcohol. You dug a lighter out of your pocket and, following his advice, dipped the needle in the flame. You threaded the needle with trembling hands, feeling the tears welling up as you missed it for the umpteenth time.

He grimaced when you pierced his skin. Despite the noise of blood rushing through his eardrums, you heard the needle slide through his flesh.

The sound was unbearable. You wanted to cover your ears.

The stitching took a long time. You tried to be as gentle as possible, but the sight of his skin being sewn together froze the blood in your veins.

Silco seemed extremely exhausted, but thankfully, the wound had stopped bleeding.

When you finished, you collapsed onto the floor, horrified by how much blood you had on your hands and clothes. He propped himself up with one hand and shifted a little higher. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the crooked seam beneath his collarbone.

You had no idea what to do next.

You sat opposite him, watching him sleep uneasily.

You held the loaded gun in your hand just in case someone tried to catch you by surprise.

You didn’t know what time it was. It could be night or even the next day.

But you believed in what you had done. He stopped deliriously mumbling and was now breathing rhythmically. You wanted to believe you had helped him. You couldn’t move. Even though your limbs were numb and your muscles burned like fire, you were afraid that if you looked away, Silco would disappear.

Something flashed on the left.

You jumped, searching for a potential threat.

The sunlight was filtering through the gaps between the boards and reflecting off the shattered glass windows.

You lowered the gun, breathing heavily. You sat with your legs pulled up, thinking about the next step.

You had to somehow transport him to a doctor, in such a way that no one would notice that Silco was in such a critical state. God, Sevika would kill you, but you had to turn to her for help. You waited for him to wake up so you could leave him alone for a moment and get assistance.

“It’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, but I guess I can’t complain.”

You jumped, distracted by the sudden words. Slowly, you turned your head toward him. He looked stable. Pale and exhausted, with traces of blood on his face. You sighed with relief.

“Oh my God, you’re alive!”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ve survived worse things than a gunshot.” He glanced at the result of your work in the dim light of the day. He gently touched the stitches. “Good job. Where exactly are we?”

“We…” you began to speak, but lost your train of thought for a moment. “I come here when I want to be alone. It’s my sanctuary and the only place where no one can find me. Well, almost no one,” you added, glancing at him meaningfully.

You didn’t regret him finding out about this place. It was the price you had to pay to save him. It was worth it. The thought that he might have died because you didn’t act in time made your heart tighten painfully.

“I guess by the looks of it, the owner doesn’t know you sneak in here?”

“The owner is a woman. And no, she left a long time ago, leaving this place to its fate. It’s not mine, and it never will be. Every time, I’m afraid someone will take it for themselves, and I won’t have anywhere to run.”

You pulled your knees to your chin, feeling yourself start to tremble from exhaustion.

Silco needed another two hours before he was able to get up from the ground.

You were numb and still dazed. Grimacing, he pulled the coat over his back, covering the torn shirt and the reddened wound. You had to hand over the reins to him because you were no longer able to think for yourself.

You didn’t care if anyone found out about your little outing. Sevika could beat you into the ground for all you cared.

You dreamed of a shower. You wanted to wash off his blood and everything that reminded you of that night.

Staggering behind him, you allowed a strong resolve to grow within you—you wouldn’t be weak anymore.

You couldn’t keep running forever. Sevika had a damn point.

The time had come when you should have stood your ground, but you weren’t capable of it.

You parted ways not far from the center.

They couldn’t see you together, especially since your face and hands were stained with blood. The sound of metal scraping against the floor. You bent over the trash can and you threw up.

You didn’t think you’d be able to pull yourself together after this experience. At least you could return to your tasks. The escapade had caused more harm than good. Whatever was supposed to happen next had to wait.

You sneaked into the facility through the back entrance.

You waited until Sara was within sight and discreetly called out to her. She nearly fainted at the sight of the blood. You asked for her help to get into a room unnoticed. She brought you a bowl of water, trying to ask what happened, but you remained silent like a grave. You washed your hands and face.

The sight of the red water paralyzed you.

A scream echoed off the walls.

Nausea rose to your throat. You jerked your body and knocked the bowl onto the ground. It crashed loudly, spilling soapy water onto your legs. You apologized to Sara in a broken voice. She must have realized you couldn’t speak, and she told you to go back to your room. You didn’t deserve her help after how you’d treated her.

You shoved your bloodstained clothes under the bed with the intention of burning them. You collapsed onto the bed, barely alive. Images flickered in your mind. The thread stiffly moving through skin. The smell of alcohol mixing with the scent of blood.

His screams...

You pressed your head into the pillow, singing yourself to sleep a lullaby you had learned from your mother. You dulled your mind enough to let it rest. You had nightmares of running through a labyrinth, searching for someone, but all you could hear were gunshots and screams. You knew that if you didn’t find him, he would die. A hand shot out from around the corner, grabbing your shoulder. You screamed.

“Fuck. Stop yelling!”

You jumped out of bed. The sweaty sheets clung to your body. Just moments before, you’d been running blindly through a maze of hallways, and now you saw Sevika’s irritated face in front of you.

“What’s going on?”

“You still have the audacity to ask?” She threw an envelope at you. “I think there’s something you need to tell me.”

You were still in the haze of sleep, not fully understanding her presence in your room. You reached for the envelope. It was thick and stuffed with papers. When you pulled them out, a solitary note fell out. You picked it up and focused your gaze on the words.

Thank you. I hope you’ll stay.

S.

You spread out the documents, not believing that what you were holding in your hands was real. Before you was the deed to the old library. In the section listing the owner, your name was written.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“Leave… you?”

Up until that moment, you hadn’t realized just how much you wanted to hear those words. You were glad he couldn’t see your face.

This was one of those moments when words held the power to change everything, but a single gesture or expression could shatter it all.

It was the kind of moment where you’d give anything for them to mean what you hoped they meant.

You let out a nervous laugh.

“And where exactly would I go? I had only James, and even he betrayed me.”

He pulled a small box of cigars from one of his pockets and lit one. Maybe it was inappropriate, but you loved watching his little habits—like the way he tilted his head back slightly with the first drag.

“Now that you know where you can get more, there’s nothing keeping you here with me.”

You scoffed, irritated. Nothing with Silco was ever simple. He’d start a conversation like he was about to say you meant something to him, only to circle back to your addiction as if that was all you cared about.

“Listen, if you think I’m going to spiral into some drug binge, you’re dead wrong. Clearly, you don’t know me as well as I thought you did. That stings.”

He hesitated, almost like he wanted to look at you, but then stopped himself.

“I promised to help you, and so far, you’ve done more by ignoring my orders. I wouldn’t blame you if you started looking for what you really need elsewhere.”

Another cloud of smoke drifted upward.

“If you didn’t keep me locked up here like some endangered lab specimen, I wouldn’t have to sneak out! I can work just like before. Just because I need this”—you gestured vaguely, thinking of the drug—“now and then doesn’t mean I’ll betray you the second someone waves a vial in my face.”

Silence settled between you. You were sick of his endless mind games, of the way he tried to extract every piece of information from you before saying anything meaningful himself. And even then, there was no guarantee of honesty. He looked distracted, lost in thought, and you weren’t even sure he was listening to you.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that property was a gift. You can do whatever you want with it. Sell it if you think you should. I just wanted you to have something of your own.”

You shuffled closer to the edge of the table, letting your legs dangle. For a moment, you considered studying his face, but instead, you kept your eyes fixed on the wall opposite. You didn’t dare break the fragile connection building between you.

“Sometimes I wish you’d speak more clearly,” you muttered.

“Lately... I’ve found myself in a strange position. I’m constantly worried about you.”

You froze. It was so raw, so cutting. The sheer amount of pain in his voice left you at a loss for words. For the first time, the silence between you felt comforting. You didn’t want to break it, but eventually, you said:

“I’m sorry. I know I promised not to sneak out or cause trouble, but I can’t just sit still. Doing nothing drives me mad!”

Silco let out a quiet laugh. Gods, that sound was like music.

“You are infuriating,” he said, taking another slow drag from his cigar. “My concerns shouldn’t weigh on you. Perhaps they’ve affected you too much. I just… I don’t want to risk you being around shimmer.”

Your brow furrowed. He was saying this? The same man who pressed a vial to your nose every day, training you like a dog?

“You know I can’t avoid it forever. Sooner or later, I’ll have to take another dose. I’ve felt the withdrawal. I’m useless during it.”

The worst part wasn’t being addicted to the drug. It was being addicted to the person holding it—the person who, in this case, was Silco. A lesser evil.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’d rather be the one giving it to you, knowing you’re safe with me, than have you lost in some alley, completely out of it.”

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? You want to control even that?” you snapped, anger bubbling up. “Do you want me crawling back to you? Is that it? Do you want to see me humiliated, begging for your mercy?”

How the hell… God, how could he so perfectly push you away? He looked at you, startled. No, terrified.

“What? No! Of course not.”

You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

Nothing with Silco was ever simple.

Frustrated, you exhaled sharply through your nose, ready to throw him out of the room. Even though everything here technically belonged to him—sometimes afraid that you also—you needed a fragment of space to yourself.

You were about to move, to step back from his intoxicating scent clouding your mind, but his voice stopped you.

“I’ve seen how much addiction has taken from you. Not just your future, but your life. It holds you in its grip. I never wanted to see someone else offer you more. If you had your own space, you could escape, but I’d know where you were. That’s better than losing you entirely. When I think about someone taking advantage of you in those first few hours after a dose... It’s a sight I wouldn’t want to see even in my worst nightmares.”

Your heart skipped a beat, faltering before finding its rhythm again. Your face felt like it was on fire. And he said it all so calmly. Your thoughts raced, but you didn’t know how to respond.

“Silco...” you began, your voice rough, but it broke before you could continue.

“I feel guilty about the mess you’ve landed in. I let my guard down, and someone used that to play their hand on my turf.”

Maybe, in a way, he was right. But even if not at Last Drop, you could’ve found shimmer anywhere. Your life might have been calmer if he’d managed his employees better. But then, you’d never have met him.

You nudged him with your shoulder.

“Hey, chin up. At least now you know about the drug, and you have a brilliant thief who can track down leads. If the boss allows it.”

“You’re…”

“Infuriating, I know,” you finished for him.

He snorted, this time genuinely amused.

You finally dared to look at him. You prayed it was just the emotions and conversation affecting you, because in this light, he looked stunning.

It had to be shimmer.

You had to blink quickly and lower your head to keep from doing something foolish.

“You know, you still drive me crazy. I’m starting to think you enjoy it,” he said slightly amused. 

You were sure he could hear your uneven breaths, no matter how hard you tried to mask them.

“Maybe just a little.”

“Part of why I wanted to keep you here is because I know you love diving headfirst into trouble. It’s driving me insane not being there to stop you.”

Damn, that's too much.

“Promise me you’ll start treating me differently, and I’ll stop.”

“No. This is better. I don’t want you to lose that fire, even if it gets under my skin.”

With Silco, nothing was ever simple.

He wasn’t a guy you met on the street. He wasn’t a man who flirted with you at a bar.

He was Silco—complex, inaccessible.

And maybe that’s why he fascinated you so much.

You needed to change the subject before you completely lost your mind.

“You have my loyalty; you know that,” you whispered. “And I don’t mean the kind you hold in your hand. Real loyalty. But promise me you’ll never lock me in this room again. Please.”

You were terrified of it. Being a prisoner in a place that was starting to feel like home.

“You have my word. But you must promise me something too.”

“Hm?”

He waited until you met his gaze.

“You have to trust me. Know that whatever I do, it’s to keep you safe. So if I ever tell you to run, you won’t hesitate for even a second.”

You nodded, mesmerized, hoping he would never ask you to run from him, because you’d have to break your promise.

***

You tried your hardest not to dwell on the last conversation with Silco.

In daylight, it felt like you had completely humiliated yourself in front of him. In a way, he had opened up to you.

Damn, you could still hear his words and the way he spoke them. They lingered, brushing against your skin, sending shivers through you every time you thought about them.

When you set up camp outside Sevika’s door again, you expected anything but the reaction you got. Perhaps you’d grown too confident, but where’s the fun without some risk?

This time, she made you wait two days. Two whole days sitting outside her room. Sure, you could have asked every five minutes if she was back, but how could you trust anyone to give you an honest answer?

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” she groaned, dropping her arms in exasperation.

“You’re here!” you exhaled in relief. “Where have you been?”

Her lips twisted into a disdainful sneer.

“Since when do I have to report to you? What do you want?”

This time, she didn’t let you inside. Leaning against the doorframe, she made it clear the conversation should be brief.

You needed a distraction, but not to stop thinking about him.

No, Silco had finally agreed to let you actively investigate traces of the shimmer blend. And that meant you needed a strong body as well as a sharp mind. You didn’t know who you’d be up against. Maybe you couldn’t resist the drug’s pull when it was near, but at least you could kick someone’s ass. Or at least, you wanted to. Hand-to-hand combat had never been your strength.

“I want you to teach me how to fight. Please.”

You were sincere, hoping your calmness would lend weight to your words. Sevika had to understand this wasn’t a whim; it was a necessity.

Without a word, she opened the door and left it ajar for you to follow. Not hesitating, you practically dashed inside, quickly closing it behind you.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” she drawled, stretching out the vowels. “I got a similar request today.”

“You’re Sevika, after all,” you began, trying to butter her up, but her cold glare silenced you. “Sorry.”

“Imagine my surprise when Silco asked—understand? Asked me to take you under my wing and start training you. What do you have to say to that?”

Your answer was just a deep blush spreading over your face.

“Well…”

“Please tell me you’ve learned not to mouth off to your superiors.”

“You could say that,” you mumbled, embarrassed. “So, when do we start?”

She seemed intrigued by your reaction and words. You could tell she’d dig into you until she got the full story. This time, an excuse like "orders from above" wasn’t going to cut it.

“Not so fast. Before I agree, I need to see what you’re made of. Tomorrow, sharp at six, you’ll meet me downstairs. We’ll have some fun.”

Her eyes sparkled with a gleam that suggested she was eager to beat you into the ground under the guise of training. You paled immediately.

“O-okay. I’ll, um, see you then.”

“Wait,” she chuckled. “Sit down. I’ve got something for you.”

You obeyed, afraid that anything you did might be used against you later.

“I know about your little nightly escapades around the city, but I’m not going to do anything about them. I’m guessing Silco already gave you a good talking-to... or something else. How many did you see?”

What an interesting choice of words…

“Eight. Four boats, twelve barrels.”

“That tracks. The trail vanishes past the river. As you know, we can’t let news of the new variant become more than a rumor. As long as people are only whispering about it, we’re fine. But, as you can guess, I have to verify everything myself.”

“Listen, I wanted to help, but Silco—”

“I know, I know. He keeps you on a short leash. Can’t say I blame him. I checked out that warehouse, but I didn’t find anything else. We can’t move into the upper city yet. But you can. You’ll watch the docks, and when the time is right, you’ll track where the shipment is going.”

You wanted to scream with joy. After so many days of inaction and working solo, you were finally back to doing what you excelled at.

“When do I start?”

Her lips thinned. Her gaze softened slightly.

“When you take your next dose. I know it’ll be soon. You need to be in shape so they won’t spot you.”

“I understand,” you muttered, ashamed.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t ask for this.”

“I know. It’s just humiliating to be dependent on this crap.”

Sevika suddenly removed her cloak, and you finally saw her mechanical arm up close. It was incredible. The precision with which it was built deserved applause. You stared at it for a few seconds.

She reached into a strap across her chest, pulling out a small cylindrical vial. The purple liquid swirled lightly, catching the light.

You quickly recoiled.

“Relax, it’s just shimmer,” she said, opening a compartment in her arm. She pulled out an empty vial, tossing it onto the desk. “You’re not the only one dependent. The difference is, I like it.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off her arm. The metal gleamed under the lamplight. Inside, in small, vein-like transparent tubes, shimmer flowed like blood.

“How does it work?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“It powers it. Think of it like extra fuel.” She rotated her arm, showing it to you from every angle. “Shimmer has its uses. It depends on how you look at it. Your James was healed because of it. Well, he didn’t last long, but still. Others use it to lose themselves, and in larger amounts, it can turn you into a mindless monster. You didn’t see the first victims of it. Things are calmer now."

She lowered her hand and sat down on a chair. She seemed tired.

Only then did you notice that there was no bed in this room, which meant she didn’t live in the facility. So why was she here in the middle of the night?

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Instead of pitying yourself, start taking control of it. Even if it’s as addictive as hell, it’s still shimmer. I’m surprised you haven’t tested what you can do yet."

"It doesn’t work like that. From what I know, this strain mutates after entering the body."

"That’s what I’m talking about," she almost interrupted you. "You’ve got that stuff in you all the time. You don’t need to take more to get back into that state. Whatever it gave you is still inside. Learn to use it."

You started examining your hands as if answers might suddenly appear on them.

True, after taking it, you could hear and see better. But you thought it was just your senses recovering after the numbness caused by the voice. What if that wasn’t it? What if you really had started to change?

"Even if it works, it only lasts for a few days," you sighed, but something clicked in your mind. "Wait, is that why Silco wanted me to train with you?"

"Maybe. You know yourself that he doesn’t tell everything."

"Yeah, I’ve noticed," you muttered in response, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

That night, you didn’t get a wink of sleep. You’d regret it when early morning rolled around, and Sevika dragged you into training without breakfast, but what she said wouldn’t let you rest.

The day you found the smugglers, you were high. You’d been too focused on the thrill of finding proof at the time, but now you realized it had been different. You’d reached the docks faster than usual. You spotted them despite the lack of streetlights. They were being quiet, and you wouldn’t have noticed them without improved night vision. Even breaking in had been quicker. You felt strength in your hands that you never expected.

The question was—what else could you do?

You must have dozed off briefly in the early morning because Sevika burst into the room, announcing that if you weren’t downstairs in five minutes, you could say goodbye to training.

You scrambled down, pulling on your shirt and grateful no one caught the spectacle.

She led you to one of the rooms downstairs. Usually, these were occupied by brutes who considered regular beatdowns a form of relaxation. You didn’t expect anyone so early, but when you entered, a group of men was leaning against the wall, laughing at a young guy doing push-ups under their watchful eyes.

At the sight of Sevika, they straightened up, ready for orders. One of them nudged the guy with his boot. The poor kid nearly wet himself when he saw you—or rather her. Everyone feared Sevika.

With one gesture, she ordered them out, and they obediently almost ran outside. Sevika smiled faintly, as if she enjoyed tormenting Silco’s other workers. Well, you’d experienced that firsthand.

So yeah, you were terrified of whatever she had planned for you.

And rightly so.

You spent hours in that room.

She had you running and jumping over obstacles, testing your reflexes in darkness and blindfolded. There wasn’t a spot on your body that didn’t ache from her blows. You felt like her punching bag. You’d suspected she’d take out the last few weeks on you, but this was torture.

After just half an hour, she declared you unfit for hand-to-hand combat. You tried to explain that, but exhaustion silenced you. You gritted your teeth, ready for more.

When you dragged yourself off the floor again, raising your fists to fight, blood trickled from your nose. You stared at it, surprised.

That’s when she let you off strength training. She handed you a bottle of water and a towel, allowing a short break.

"I don’t know what you were thinking, but you’re not cut out for repelling attacks," she said, lightly tapping your boot in a teasing, not malicious, way. "You’re too weak for that. To take someone down, you’d need to spend weeks in the gym. But I know that’s not your domain."

"No kidding," you croaked, draining the last of the water.

"Funny how even after I beat you down, you can’t stop talking back," she laughed, crouching in front of you.

You felt like sticking your tongue out at her like a child. Instead, you wiped your face one last time and stood up shakily.

"What now?"

"You’re hitting the showers because you stink. That’s it for today."

"But I haven’t shown you what I can do!"

"I’ve known what you can do from the start. Now I know your weaknesses. Tomorrow, another session," she said on her way out. "If I have to drag you out of bed again, I’ll make today’s workout feel like a warm-up."

She left you with a head full of questions and muscles on the brink of collapse. The door hadn’t even fully closed when a swarm of rowdy idiots flooded in. You had to escape before they made you the butt of their jokes.

On your way back to your room, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Sure, you had new assignments, but without the adrenaline-fueled freelancing, you were starting to get bored. That kind of behavior was asking for trouble.

After an hour-long shower, you went downstairs, cursing Sevika for not scheduling a breakfast break. You decided you’d have to keep food in your room to avoid training on an empty stomach.

When Sara handed you a loaded plate, you felt like kissing her. You hadn’t had an appetite like this in months. As you stared at the empty plate, you searched your thoughts for something to do.

An idea came to you on its own.

***

The building looked the same as always. You were glad it hadn’t changed. There had been too many changes in your life already. You pushed the door open, letting the familiar scent of grilled meat fill your nostrils. Leon was nowhere to be seen, but the place was open, so he was probably in the back.

Sore and bruised, you took your usual seat at the bar, running your fingers over the chipped wood in front of you.

Funny, this texture no longer reminded you of home. It was a place from memories you had left willingly. Still, it felt good to return, even for a moment.

"Busy as ever?"

Leon jumped like he’d been burned, dropping an armful of pots. He let them fall when he saw you.

"Fuck, you scared the life out of me," he grumbled in disapproval, trying to hide a smile of relief. "Good to see you, kiddo."

"Looks like nothing’s changed."

"No, but you look like hell," he said, sliding a glass toward you and leaning against the counter sideways. "What’ve you been up to while you were gone?"

How much could you say?

He knew you were working for Silco, but all the assignments so far revolved around a subject you weren’t allowed to talk about. He wouldn’t judge you if you admitted to an addiction, but you were strictly forbidden from informing anyone about the substance. Besides, you were ashamed of how easily you’d been drawn in, and so quickly, too.

Adding a few embellishments and some outright lies, you spun him a story about tracking potential enemies of Silco. You mentioned training with Sevika when his gaze lingered, questioning, on the darkening bruises on your arms. Even if he didn’t believe the tall tale, he tactfully refrained from pointing out your lies. He was kind to you, and lying to him hurt, but what else could you do?

"You know, I actually came by for the rest of my stuff."

He nodded and wordlessly brought a box from the back room.

"So, this is it? You’re officially leaving?"

"Will you miss me?" you asked jokingly, but Leon wasn’t in the mood for jokes. "Hey, what’s this? Are you going to cry?"

"Something got in my eye, that’s all."

You politely pretended not to notice.

You finally had the chance to come for your belongings. You couldn’t keep being torn between your old and new life. Something had to end for a new chapter to begin, even if you weren’t sure yet whether it would end in your death. There was no turning back now. You might as well spend what time you had left finding answers.

Clinging to sentimentality made no sense.

You came back for one small thing: a photo of your family when you were still together. You might be part of a gang and tangled up with drugs, but that one thing you couldn’t give up.

You tucked the photo into your pocket and instructed Leon to burn the rest. It was better if no one associated you with him.

You left Leon’s place after a few hours. You’d spent the time catching up, forgetting for a little while the worries waiting for you beyond the door. He shared a few bits of gossip from the upper city, and you showed him the beating Sevika had given you. He was impressed you wanted to go back to her, but, like you, he thought it was a good idea to learn how to defend yourself.

You said goodbye, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders.

You’d been afraid that after the rush to pack your things, he might have thought you were dead.

Every now and then, you touched your pocket to make sure the photo was still there. You were halfway home when the dizziness hit. You’d expected it but didn’t think it would strike in the middle of the road. Another day or two, and you’d have to meet Silco. The thought made your knees wobble. The last time he appeared in your dreams, it had ended a bit differently. You pinched your cheeks hard, willing yourself to focus.

"No way! It’s you!"

"People really need to stop greeting me like that," you groaned instinctively before freezing, staring at Camille.

You wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t spoken.

She was wearing a simple shirt and leather pants, with an apron dusted in flour thrown over the top. She stood in the doorway leading to the back of the bakery, holding a bucket of scraps, which she dropped when she saw you.

"Camille. Long time no see. I’ll just… be going now," you said, wanting to vanish before she got any bright ideas.

"You’ve got some nerve walking the streets after killing James," she snarled, indignant.

You hissed, looking around quickly, then darted toward her, shoving her inside the building. She yelped in surprise, but you covered her mouth with your hand. Your knife was in your other hand before you even realized it, pressing against her stomach. Her eyes widened in terror.

"Don’t scream, okay?"

She nodded. You removed your hand and the blade, though you didn’t put it away. Her fear turned to anger as she clenched her fists, but it seemed to dawn on her she didn’t stand a chance.

With a huff, she shut the door, cutting you both off from the outside world.

"Aren’t you ashamed? You killed your friend and disappeared."

"Ashamed? He should be rolling in his grave! The idiot betrayed me."

"So you killed him for it?" she asked coldly.

"Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep. And stop spreading rumors that I’m responsible. I know where you work now and can come back anytime."

She paled and lost some of her bluster. You stood up to leave through the front door. Of all days, you had to run into her today. Maybe you should’ve listened to Silco and dyed your hair or something.

"Finn’s people are looking for you. They’re offering a lot of cash for your head."

You turned back to see her holding a kitchen knife. She was upset, angry, and on the verge of something reckless.

You raised your hands slightly, keeping them visible. Her hands trembled as she gripped the handle. You were going to get yourself killed someday, but you couldn’t help provoking her.

"Go ahead. I dare you. You know I’m faster."

She hesitated, then slowly lowered the blade. She sank to the floor, starting to sob. The situation had become awkward. You wanted to slip out discreetly to avoid dealing with it, but then she started talking.

"I loved him, you know? Really loved him."

"That’s nice..." you said awkwardly, rocking back on your heels, unsure what to do. "I’ll be going now."

"Of course, run off. Hide. Like the coward you are!" she shouted after you.

You should’ve walked away, just kept going and ignored the accusations, but your legs wouldn’t listen. You glanced back over your shoulder.

"Instead of wallowing in self-pity, why don’t you find out who really killed him? Because it wasn’t me."

You slammed the door behind you, making the glass shake.

You didn’t care that she cried for James. He’d brought it on himself by dealing with Finn’s people.

No, the problem was that Camille was convinced you were being hunted. Finn supposedly believed you were dead, but that information had come from Silco or Sevika—most likely. You weren’t surprised he didn’t believe it. That meant they were still interested in you.

You pulled your hood over your head and covered your face with a scarf. You had to tell Sevika. This complicated the task you were about to receive. You’d learned by now that hiding the truth from her led nowhere good.

This time, you didn’t bother lurking by her door, knowing you were set to meet the next day. You only hoped the growing hunger wouldn’t disrupt that training. Whatever she had planned for you, you needed to be ready.

She wasn’t pleased with what you told her, but she had to deal with it.

This time, she tested your knife-fighting, throwing skills, and target shooting. The latter could use improvement, but she found no faults in your knife work—despite looking hard. You grinned proudly, knowing your years of grueling practice had paid off. Unfortunately, you had to take breaks more often this time.

Neither of you said it, but you both knew the day was approaching. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but you knew once you took the dose, they’d send you on a mission. Your hands itched at the thought.

While you rested on the ground, Sevika practiced her shooting. You watched her aim and fire shot after shot, her normal arm hanging still by her side. It didn’t move a millimeter. You envied her for that. Every shot sent your shoulder jerking out of alignment, leaving it aching like it was about to pop out of its socket.

You glanced at the board with a circle drawn on it and felt a small twinge of satisfaction upon noticing that one of the bullets had pierced the circle, earning a mere six points.

"But you don’t have a perfect score. One of them only got a six," you yawned, still sleepy, but stopped halfway when she turned to face you. She was wearing some odd-looking glasses. "What’s that? A new fashion statement?"

"Do you even realize what you just said?"

You raised your hands in mock surrender.

"Sorry, I didn’t know you were sensitive about your sense of style."

"They’re night vision goggles, idiot. Fifteen minutes ago, I turned off the lights in front of the targets to test them. Are you telling me you can see in the dark like it’s broad daylight? Damn, your pupils look like a cat’s."

"What? No, absolutely not!" You dashed to the light switch, but nothing happened when you flicked it. Your heart jumped into your throat. "What the hell?"

"Silco was right. Shimmer is mutating something in you."

You kept flipping the switch, hoping Sevika was messing with you. Yes, you’d noticed that colors occasionally seemed to lose their saturation for a moment, but you chalked it up to fatigue. Rubbing your eyes with sweaty palms didn’t help. You could still see the far end of the room perfectly—something that was supposedly shrouded in darkness.

"Oh, fuck..."

Chapter Text

"Exactly my words." She removed her goggles with a slight grimace. "Come on, get moving. We're going."  

You stretched your arms above your head, shaking off the sluggishness in your muscles. Fatigue weighed heavily on you. Sleep had been elusive, your thoughts consumed by the changes happening in your body. Every day, Sevika pulled you into intense, individualized training sessions. But if she had anything else planned, you had no choice but to follow. That was the deal.  

"Alright, alright, just don’t make me jump over crates again."  

She gave you a look—half amused, half as if you’d sprouted rabbit ears.  

"What are you rambling about? We’re going to Silco."  

You immediately flushed, retreating further into the shadows of the room. Thank goodness it was dim in there.  

"And what the hell for?"  

"You just found out you can see in the dark, and you want to keep it to yourself?"  

"Oh sure, I should just burst into his office and announce to the world that my eyes mutated or something?" You reached for the door handle, ready to flee, but she slammed it shut with her mechanical arm. You were trapped.  

"Not too long ago, you would’ve run to him over the smallest issue, blaming him for all your problems. And now, when you actually have something important, you’re ignoring not just his orders but mine as well."  

You forced a calm expression onto your face.  

"Well, as it happens, most of my current problems are directly tied to him. And I don’t recall being ordered to report every little thing my body decides to do."  

Sevika growled low in her throat but didn’t let you go. Instead, she leaned her weight against the door, fully blocking your escape.  

"Listen, this is important. New abilities could be useful. Did you forget you have a mission coming up?"  

"Believe me, I’m thinking about it nonstop," you sighed. "Running to Silco with every little thing doesn’t make sense. I need to figure this out myself."  

"This is not a little thing."  

You placed your hands on the back of your neck, staring at the ceiling. She was right. It wasn’t a little thing. You’d nearly had a heart attack when you realized you could suddenly read numbers on a pitch-black scoreboard. But you suspected Silco would demand details—since when, how you felt, what you could do. Going to him empty-handed would only invite ridicule. Even if there was more trust between you now, you couldn’t hand him everything. This was your body and your problem to solve.  

"Fine, I’ll tell him. But..." you added quickly, "only after I learn more and test myself under different conditions. I’ll have to see him soon enough anyway."  

Your voice trailed off. This was humiliating.  

"You’ve got a day. Otherwise, I’ll tell him myself."  

She was irritated—you could see it. But even if she thought you were being irrational, you couldn’t run to him with every problem, expecting him to fix it. That’s not how things worked.  

The room around you was narrow but long. The shooting range was set up so that five people could practice simultaneously. Lamps hung every few meters above the lanes. If not now, then when? You were utterly exhausted, but you needed clarity before tomorrow.  

You remembered Leon telling you once that cats didn’t see in total darkness. They were just sensitive to light. Sevika had compared your eyes to a cat’s, so you followed that logic. Cats could navigate well at night, but in sealed, pitch-black rooms, they were as helpless as humans. The trick lay in their pupils, which could make the most of even faint light. A sliver of moonlight was enough to guide them.  

There were no windows in the shooting range, probably to prevent anyone from accidentally firing through glass. The only light came from the lamps and a small pane in the metal door. You began turning the lamps off, row by row, starting with the ones closest to the targets.  

The stress mounted with each trial. You hoped you were wrong, but no matter how many lamps you turned off, you could still read the numbers painted in white on the black boards. Only when you reached the last two rows did you start having difficulty. The paint appeared gray, barely discernible. When all the lights were out, you could still make out the tables with ammunition but no longer see the targets, now swallowed by darkness. Your current range seemed to be about twenty meters—far beyond normal human limits.  

You left the room, trying to decide your next move. Your hands clenched into fists, but the strength you’d felt before wasn’t there. They even began to tremble slightly. You chalked it up to exhaustion and poor nutrition. By your calculations, you had about two days before withdrawal caught up with you and demanded its price. Unfortunately, Sevika had only given you a day. You didn’t want to rely on shimmer more than necessary, but that meant you’d be facing two meetings with Silco instead of one.  

You weren’t sure you were ready for that, especially after the emotional gut punch you’d endured earlier.  

You shoved your hands into your pockets to hide their shaking. Sara had set aside food for you again, and you needed to find a way to repay her. She didn’t have to help you this much. She clucked her tongue in concern at the shadows under your eyes but didn’t comment.  

Before you felt ready to answer Silco’s summons, you had to test your abilities in a more natural setting.  

Living under a quasi-house arrest was very different from voluntarily locking yourself in a room to avoid people. You’d noticed that since you started training with Sevika, people were looking at you differently. You’d gone from being a shadow slipping unnoticed through crowds to someone they couldn’t ignore. Sevika’s attention had made them reevaluate you. It wouldn’t be long before someone tried to intimidate you. Now, not only would she want to see what you were made of, but others would as well.  

It was time to disappear from sight for a while.  

Hiding in your room, you prepared to climb out the window if anyone decided to get stupid. You tried to mend the torn hood of your jacket, but your fingers couldn’t hold the needle. Frustrated, you threw everything onto the table.  

You pulled your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms. You felt pathetic, miserable.  

It had been over a month since you started living with the knowledge that your body could give out at any moment. You were surviving on borrowed time, extending it by mere weeks with every dose.  

Your fingers toyed with the shimmer vial you’d been given recently. Its walls gleamed dangerously with violet hues. You remembered the taste. Suddenly, you threw it across the room, watching as it shattered against the floor.  

No one would clean it up for you, but at least it brought a fleeting sense of satisfaction.  

As usual, Sevika was right.  

You slept through most of the day. When you woke, disoriented and unsure of where you were, the room was already steeped in darkness.

You were sweating, with a piece of cookie stuck to your cheek that you had stolen from the kitchen when no one was looking. Your head felt heavy, like when you're sick. But you had waited for the right time of day. You packed the essentials into your backpack and went out through the window. You had a feeling that even if you were caught sneaking out, Sevika would just wave it off. You were starting to feel like she was getting tired of making sure you were working like clockwork. Honestly, it was fine, what difference did it make how you followed orders? The result was what mattered, right?

You were still avoiding your tower. You weren’t sure what to do with it. There were still traces of blood on the floor and walls inside. An event you preferred to forget. You wanted to test how your senses would behave when surrounded by many stimuli. You chose one of the houses near the bridge leading to the upper city. You wanted to see how far your vision could reach without losing track of the guards in the darkness and fog. You found a comfortable spot on the roof, hidden in the shadow. The Enforcers wouldn’t be happy knowing you were closely observing their every move.

It wasn’t just about sight. It could have been hearing or smell. The shooting range always smelled like gunpowder. If you were going to act in the field, you had to test your new abilities there. You picked one of the guards and followed him with your eyes. By the eighth lamp, he should start fading into the darkness. The lights didn’t reach everywhere, yet you were still able to notice him briefly pulling off his mask to shove some food into his mouth. You clicked your tongue in disapproval. It wasn’t right to eat on duty. But it was clear to you that, much like cat eyes, your own reacted to the amount of light. You glanced at your reflection in the polished blade and grimaced in slight disgust. Your pupils were dilated to the extreme, an eerie sight.

However, after focusing your sight for so long, your head started to hurt more and more. You decided it was time to head back and rest before your next training with Sevika. You probably couldn’t count on a single day off. You froze when a dull groan reached your ears. It sounded strange, wild. You glanced at the guards, but they didn’t seem disturbed. After a moment, you heard it again. Blood began to freeze in your veins. It wasn’t that Zaun was a quiet place. Even early in the morning, it didn’t quiet down – it was just that the loud music gave way to the murmur of merchants and shopkeepers.

But this was different. It sounded like an animal caught in a trap, only more sinister. It was a call, not betraying fear.

You had to know where it was coming from, mainly out of curiosity. Unfortunately, the streets near the bridge were empty, too close to the patrols. You scanned the area for the source of the sound. Suddenly, the sound of metal striking stone reached your ears. Whoever was making those groans was starting to stir things up. Guided by the sound, you had to pass four more buildings to finally see something.

And then you began to regret coming.

You weren’t sure if it was a man or a woman. Their emaciated limbs looked the same on anyone. The rags thrown over their back were meant to hide their face from prying eyes. The stranger was bouncing off the walls, groaning and knocking over trash bins. You frowned when you realized you were looking at someone addicted to shimmer for a long time. You couldn’t take your eyes off them. You knew that if it weren’t for Silco, it could have been you.

The person suddenly grabbed the wall, collapsed to their knees, and then to their face. Everything went silent, even their rasping breath. Saliva filled your mouth. You couldn’t stop yourself and vomited beside you. Cruel, inhuman, and drastic. The life of those foolish enough to reach for shimmer. You wanted to blame Silco for this, it would be easy. Someone might say that your feelings were clouding your judgment, but you could just as well blame the alcohol manufacturer for killing your father.

You sat on the roof, leaning your back against the low parapet. The building wasn’t tall, but tall enough to feel the cool, slightly salty wind. The wind carried with it the stench of the river's murky waters. But even that was better than the heavy air you had left behind in the room.

Four blocks away. That was the range of your hearing. Despite the distant screams, you knew where that dying person was. I wonder if you could eavesdrop on a conversation in the same way. It terrified you that your fascination was taking over. You couldn’t deny that the new abilities were intoxicating. You tried not to forget where they came from.

Well, either way, Silco would find out. It would be better if he heard it from your mouth.

***

When you got up in the middle of the night to quench your thirst, you were horrified to realize that the pain behind your eyes hadn’t disappeared in your sleep. You looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes looked normal, maybe except for the small veins along the sides. You gripped the sink to keep your hands from trembling like crazy.

“It’s too early,” you murmured in a tired voice. “Why now…”

You had miscalculated. Either you had lost about a day and a half, or your body was demanding more and more frequently. Your mathematical-biological abilities couldn’t deny the fact that even without Sevika’s orders, you had to report to him.

Humiliating.

Sleep was out of the question. When you returned to your room, of course through the window, you collapsed onto the bed still in your clothes. You slept maybe four hours before the addiction began sending clear signals. You waited patiently for the sun to rise. This time, you didn’t give Sevika the satisfaction and were downstairs even before she woke up.

You were throwing knives at an empty crate, complaining about the pain in your arms. She didn’t make you wait long. Not pleased that she wouldn’t be able to beat you up for being late, she stormed into the training room.

“I should be impressed that you’re on time, but in your case, it means you want something.”

“Nice to see you too,” you replied, getting up with difficulty to gather the knives. “It hurts that you think so poorly of me. I thought there was something more between us.”

You theatrically grabbed your chest, contorting your lips into a crooked, despair-like smile. However, she wasn’t amused when she saw how you looked. She muttered a curse and crossed her arms over her chest.

“When’s the last time?”

“You know, that question is rarely asked with care,” you said, waving the knife. “Not that anyone ever heard care in your voice, but you get it. Interesting, right?”

“You know, I’ll write in my report that after a month, an addict starts losing their mind,” she said, stepping closer, her expression softening a bit. “I’m asking honestly: when was the last time?”

“It’s too early,” you muttered. “I know I have to tell Silco about… you know, but can we do it after the training?”

She raised her eyebrows and snorted in disbelief.

“I’m not going to kick someone when they’re down. Not even you.”

“I’d be touched if I didn’t know what you’re after.”

“If you know, then why the hell are you sitting here?”

What were you supposed to say to her? That every day, you were feeling more and more how absurd the whole situation was? That you were terrified of the moment when Silco would find out about the mutation?

You looked at her for a moment with a dull gaze, searching for an answer, but eventually lowered your shoulders and simply passed by her. She grabbed your arm and leaned in slightly.

“Don’t overdo it, okay? You’re annoying, but I don’t want to see you die just because you're refusing help.”

“Using is not help,” you hissed, trying to pull away, but unfortunately, she held you with her stronger hand.

“No, it’s not. But Silco is doing what he can to find the person responsible. Don’t make it harder for him.”

She let you go, leaving not only a red mark on your shoulder but also another knot in your head. Everyone in the lower city knew she was as loyal to him as a dog. But there was something more driving her than money and shimmer. She was one of the few people who trusted him and believed in his actions, no matter how morally gray they were.

She couldn’t know about your conversation with him. You didn’t think they confided in each other about such details. Yes, Silco cared about you, but only because he felt guilty. That should have been enough for you, but bitterness crept up to your throat. I wouldn’t blame you if you started looking for what you really need elsewhere – you heard those words in your head. They echoed in the emptiness left by hunger. If only he knew...

The sun was horribly bright that day, and for the first time, you longed for rain. Though then you’d probably complain about wet shoes. You took a slightly longer route to Last Drop, but you had to think. You agreed with Sevika that you couldn’t hide the mutation for much longer, and Silco had to know. What you feared was what might happen when you said those heavy words. There was work waiting for you. A new, exciting job was within reach. The only thing in your way was that meeting. You didn’t want, and couldn’t let anything stand in your way. Earning money was one thing, but revenge on the people who indirectly put you in this mess – that was something completely different.

Sometimes you wondered where he actually lived. He sat in his office from morning till night. He disappeared whenever he wanted, but that was a constant place where you could find him. Or maybe the couch was there because he actually lived above the bar? It seemed ridiculous, but seriously, no one had a clue where to look for Silco if not at Last Drop.

A place without people was actually an interesting one, though unfortunately, it reminded you too much of the effort Silco had put you through, at your own request, no less. You probably should have gone upstairs and knocked on the door. The stairs stretched up unbelievably high. The thought of climbing made you lose your breath. Damn, you felt like a soft pile of refuse. And you probably looked like one too. How the hell were you able to run across rooftops yesterday, and today just walking made you sweat like crazy?

Halfway up the stairs, you had to grab the railing to avoid falling. You wrapped your arm around yourself as if pressing your ribs might help with breathing. You had to pause for a moment. You rested your forehead against the door, enjoying the slight coolness. Before you regained your breath, you almost counted to a hundred. You hadn’t thought about whether he had company or whether he was even on the other side. At worst, you’d peacefully faint by the door, waiting for him to return. Still leaning your forehead against it, you raised your hand and knocked quietly.

Fortunately, your heightened hearing caught the permission, as the thudding in your head didn’t stop and drowned everything else out. You entered, dragging your legs. Funny, you didn’t feel the same embarrassment as you had a few days ago. You had your reasons to delay showing up as long as you could, but embarrassment wasn’t one of them. Silco was sitting with his back to the window. He held only his trademark sign in his hand. You closed the door behind you and leaned against the wall beside it. Just a few more steps. It was bad, worse than before. Whatever that meant, it wasn’t good.

“Sevika mentioned you’d be here today. I’d appreciate it, though, if you informed me about the time beforehand.”

You rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure what to expect, especially after the last conversation with him. You didn’t expect any big emotions or caring words, but that coldness was striking.

“I’ve been dying since midnight, be glad I didn’t start looking for you in the morning.”

He spun around abruptly and aimed his elegant pen at you. He looked as if you had interrupted the most important meeting of his life. For heaven's sake, he was smoking a cigar in the armchair! Was that more important than the fact that you were dying? Dragging your legs, you walked closer and collapsed tiredly into a chair.

“You barge in here like it’s your place and expect me to drop everything when you start burning holes in my back with your stare. I remind you, this is still my office.”

“I’m well aware of that,” you replied, somewhat offended.

“Can we change the tone?”

It seemed like he was starting to lose patience with you.

“Will you give it to me already or not?”

“That’s what I was talking about. You’re always demanding something.”

Shimmer dulled the mind and senses but left room for the most primitive things. Now you felt anger beginning to rise to the surface. Oh, you really wanted to argue with him at that moment.

“What else do you want from me?” you asked, impatient.

“You were supposed to trust me. I gave you a free hand in how you take the drug.”

“Oh, thank you very much, sorry I can’t bow down.”

You should probably feel ashamed for snapping like that. If you were indifferent to him, he wouldn’t be helping you with your addiction, he would have thrown you out the door at the first sign of disobedience. Still, snarky comments were one of the few things that eased the irritation a bit. Fortunately, he didn’t let your childish remarks throw him off balance. He leaned over some documents and started quickly scribbling something.

“If you can’t control yourself, you can leave.”

Calm down, you kept telling yourself, but instead, a mocking snicker escaped from your lips.

“Are you threatening me? Either I listen meekly or you cut me off from shimmer? I regret giving you the stash.”

He slammed his hands onto the desk, nearly destroying the pen. A few drops of ink splashed onto the collar of his shirt. He cursed quietly but quickly corrected himself as if he didn’t want to show that you could throw him off rhythm.

“I’m showing you that you have free will in what you do with your body. I’m bending over backward to make this easier for you. I trusted your judgment in the hope that you’d think logically, but you’re doing everything to drive me crazy.”

“Do you think I come here for fun? It’s humiliating to come back to you every few days and beg for another dose, and…”

“I promised I’d help you, so don’t treat me like your enemy,” he cut in sharply.

You were taken aback. Despite the pointless interruption, he remained very calm. He spoke with reason, you knew that, but everything bad in you was pouring out. It was as if shimmer, leaving your body slowly, was also destroying it with vile moods.

“I don’t treat you like…”

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. I never wanted to humiliate you. I’d rather have spared us that trouble, but this isn’t just about you and me.”

“Somehow, I don’t remember anyone else begging you for a dose.”

"You’re crossing boundaries. Too much. You have no idea what happens when you refuse to take another dose when you need it. Yet you test your limits like it’s diving. You won’t become more resilient by delaying another day."

You growled angrily. What could he know about it? He wasn’t addicted to this crap. He couldn’t know how destructive it was—physically and mentally. You were afraid of yourself because you felt you were capable of the worst things just to get shimmer into your hands. Powerlessly, you dropped your hands and slightly lowered your head, saying:

"You don’t know what it’s like when you lose control and can’t do anything about it because your life depends on it."

"You’re right, I don’t know. But what I do know is that you’re forgetting about your task. The transport won’t wait for you to come to your senses."

He pushed the vial closer, leaving it on the desk, giving you a choice. To do it on your own terms, when you want—or rather, when you need it. You were being stripped of your control over your own body, yet he was looking for a solution that would give you the most comfort. He could have thrown you scraps, administered the drug without his involvement, and waited for the results. No, he let you seek shelter with him when you were at your weakest. You should be grateful, but the anger wouldn’t go away.

"When will it finally get through to you that this is the only way? I’m trying to help you, but you’re fighting it with your hands and feet. I won’t force you to take it, I won’t pour it down your throat by force. But without it, I won’t give you the task. I need you healthy. I need you to do your job."

"It’s blackmail."

"It’s reality. Take the dose and get back to work. You think I don’t know how many of my employees are addicted? You think that bothers me? As you’ve kindly noticed, I flooded the lower city with shimmer. I don’t care what my people do as long as they do their job well. Start taking it regularly and don’t let anything interrupt your observations. Or quit altogether."

You leaned back, surprised by his words. He was playing hard. He was playing dirty. He was playing to get through to your mind, but you were really resisting it with everything you had. Pathetic.

"Will you fire me if I choose to quit?"

"No. I’ll fire you if you jeopardize the job."

He was right. He was fucking right. You had forgotten about the task that was waiting right after you left Last Drop. Now you felt the emotions fading away, and the all-too-familiar exhaustion was returning. But the apology didn’t want to pass through your clenched throat. You weren’t fair to him. After all, he was the gang leader, a ruthless criminal who held Zaun in his grasp. And this criminal let a mere thief, at lowest point, use him as an emotional doormat.

"I hate being dependent on anyone. You keep everything locked up like you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you, I don’t trust myself either. In this state, it’s hard to control my emotions. I see that you have something I need, and I’m afraid that one day I won’t hesitate to do anything to get my hands on that chest. Promise me you’ll stop me if I start losing myself."

"That’s another promise. You first have to keep yours."

With one sure movement, you grabbed the vial in front of you and drank everything in one go. You slammed it down loudly. He froze halfway through his words.

"Promise me."

Shimmer started kicking in. Everything became sharper. He looked at you with a slight mixture of pride and amusement. He covered the container with his hand and slowly moved it away from you. Now, as your ability to analyze returned, you realized how easily he had played you. You should be thanking him for getting through to your foggy mind. But for now, you felt the shame creeping in.

"I promise," he replied with a slight smirk. "You can wait here until the first phase passes."

***

In the end, you didn’t tell him about the mutation. Sevika would probably kill you for it, but if you blamed it on the hunger, maybe she would forgive you. You kept telling yourself there would be other opportunities, and Silco already knew shimmer had messed with your genetic code, so why rush and pass on incomplete information?

You’d been watching the warehouse for another hour. They were late with the delivery or weren’t working as regularly as you thought. Once the frenzy had settled, Silco gave you all the necessary information. You were supposed to check where the barrels were being delivered, nothing more. The problem was, it was never just "nothing more." Getting across to the other side was a challenge in itself. The upper and lower cities were connected by a massive bridge. If you didn’t want to swim in the dirty water, your choices were to sneak over the top under the watchful eyes of the guards or with the smugglers. Neither option was appealing. From where you stood, near the warehouse, you could barely see the bridge in the distance, even with your new eyesight.

You probably didn’t have any choice but to hitch a ride as a stowaway.

Bored, you started listening for voices in the area. Testing your new senses was better than staring at the building, hoping they’d show up. Houses were stacked one on top of the other, creating a disturbing heap of wood and brick. You were sure that on one of the floors, a woman was throwing a betrayal at her husband, but you weren’t certain yet. You’d forgotten to ask Sevika where she got the information that the next transport was supposed to come soon. She better not be wrong, or you’d be spending the night on the roof. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the smells from the water weren’t inviting.

You were fiddling with a leather ball, waiting for the right moment to use your new energy, when you heard the sound of many feet on the sand. You peered discreetly down and saw a group of eight men—probably—heading towards the warehouse. Strange, wasn’t there supposed to be a delivery today? They weren’t carrying large barrels in their pockets. They all wore the same outfits—dull, unremarkable, tattered hats with wide brims, and tall boots. They looked like miners, but what were they doing so far from the mines?

Too suspicious to ignore. You dropped down to the ground and peeked around the corner. They were noisy and probably drunk—or pretending to be, so they didn’t stand out from the crowd. An inexperienced eye might mistake them for regular workers, but you immediately noticed the slight glimmer. The moonlight reflected off the barrel of a gun one of them had tucked behind his belt.

"Ah, miners, sure," you whispered, somewhat impressed.

You crept along the wall and hid behind a bench. It was too dark for them to see you. They also didn’t expect anyone to be watching them. Just because you couldn’t see anything didn’t mean there wasn’t something there. That was the first lesson you learned from the streets. They entered the warehouse like they owned the place and slammed the double doors shut behind them. The echo spread throughout the area. Clever, no one would suspect a few men of any wrongdoing. They could just be working the night shift. The only problem was, this warehouse didn’t belong to any company. Sevika had already checked. Whoever owned it was keeping a low profile, or they were from the upper city.

You had to find out where they were getting the shimmer from. Using the shadows cast by the houses, you crept closer and began climbing the wall before anyone noticed. The window you entered wasn’t locked, meaning no one had noticed your break-in. You had to hurry if you wanted to see where they were getting the goods from.

The warehouse smelled of grease and metal, but you could still sense the remnants of the last shipment. The faint smell didn’t have much of an effect, but it was irritating. You didn’t feel the usual sting behind your eyes, but the awareness of it settled in your mind, occupying space where other thoughts should have been.

You jumped onto the platform and immediately froze. Funny, of all the people you knew, only Silco behaved differently and searched for you with his gaze, looking up high. It shouldn’t make you happy, you were becoming predictable. But these people down there, together, didn’t even have half the IQ of Silco. They were waiting for something. A few of them started laying out cards, one was lying on the floor, and two were waiting near the edge for some signal. So, they weren’t the ones delivering the barrels to this warehouse. It could’ve been five minutes or several hours, but you were too afraid to move, lest they spot you.

You could feel your left leg slowly going numb when one of the men whistled sharply and waved his hand. The whole group abandoned their current activities and almost synchronously reached between the standing crates. They pulled out long, several-meter-long poles with massive hooks at the ends. It looked rather strange, though they clearly knew what they were doing. They moved toward the edge with intense focus, as if they were about to discover something important.

You couldn’t get down silently, so risking it, you wrapped your legs around the metal railing and slid down headfirst. Now you had a good view of the water, though it was completely upside down. In any other situation, it might have been funny.

“Do you see anything?” one of them asked.

“There!” he pointed towards the water. “Start looking.”

All of them, as if on command, moved to the edge and began poking their poles into the water, making long, steady motions. They looked comical, as if they were fishing for something large with hooks. Suddenly, you heard a dull thud of wood against metal.

“I’ve got something!” one of them shouted.

Two others immediately joined him. They began pushing with all their might, pulling something out of the water. After a few tense seconds, you saw them pull up a massive chain, as thick as your arm. Each of them grabbed a link, and with the hook, they helped pull it higher. Their goal was a large spool, attached firmly to the ceiling.

They hooked the chain onto a short rod sticking out of the mechanism. One of them, clearly responsible for the equipment, removed the protective cover, revealing a heavy winch. He wrestled with it for a moment until the spool began to turn, pulling something large out of the water.

You hung there, feeling your blood rush to your head. You had to move. Either jump down or find another place to hide.

“Go get the boats,” ordered the tallest one, probably the leader.

You waited until two of them disappeared into the darkness, and the rest turned their gaze away from the inside of the warehouse. Then you jumped to the ground. The sound of the retracting chain and the splashing water drowned out the dull sound of your landing. You crouched behind a pile of bags, watching their movements.

Soon, rafts began appearing on the water, approaching the warehouse. Finally, you understood what they were doing. They were fishing the barrels out of the water, connected by a chain that ensured they all arrived at the same time. Brilliant and terrifying at the same time.

The whole process was so clever that no wonder Sevika hadn’t found any evidence. They used the strong current of the river to float the barrels to the location, and then they used hooks to pull them out and load them onto the boats.

You couldn’t take your eyes off them, wondering who came up with this method. It was the perfect solution for those who wanted to stay in the shadows. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, almost spilling out your ears as you tried to come up with a way to get onto one of the boats. There were only four left, and now only one—your only chance for crossing. Your heart raced wildly, every muscle tensed, ready to act. They weren’t waiting for all the barrels to be loaded, so you had to move fast.

You didn’t even have time to plan. Fortunately, fate seemed to be on your side. One of the men suddenly cursed loudly.

“Damn it, something’s caught!” he growled, tugging with all his might.

A barrel, filled with something heavy, had gotten stuck under the water. The water was putting up too much resistance, and one person alone couldn’t lift the load. Before the others rushed to help, something unexpected happened—a loud snap rang out as the chain broke, and the barrel vanished into the river. A piece of the broken link shot into the air and hit the man steering the boat in the leg. He howled in pain and, moments later, bloodied, fell into the water.

“Are you insane?! We’re going to lose the job because of your clumsiness!” someone else shouted angrily, rushing to help the wounded man.

This was the moment. Hunched low, almost glued to the ground, you ran to the boat and jumped aboard. You slid between a pile of bags at the bow, hiding as best as you could. From behind the curtain, you heard frantic shouting and a hurried exchange of words.

“What about him?!”

“Leave him! We’ll lose more time, and someone will see us!”

None of them even thought about pulling the wounded man out. It was brutal but logical—he had no chance of surviving in that water with an open wound. After a brief consultation, the rest decided to fill the empty barrel with water from the warehouse and hoped that no one would open it on the way.

But you were thinking of something else—the barrel at the bottom of the river, full of drugs... You shook your head, trying to focus on your own survival.

The boat rocked as someone jumped on board. The engine roared, and moments later, you slowly drifted down the river. You held your breath, lying still in the bags that smelled like mildew. For a moment, the rocking was almost soothing, but adrenaline still pulsed through your body, keeping you on high alert.

About fifteen minutes into the journey, the boat slammed into the shore with a jarring thud. You heard quick footsteps and the grunts of people hauling heavy barrels. You carefully peeked out from behind the bags to look around.

What you saw sent a chill down your spine. A group of people was hauling barrels onto carts set up on tracks, pulling them towards something hidden in the darkness. It was clear this wasn’t just a regular scam. This was a perfectly organized operation that had likely been going on for quite some time.

It was impossible for anyone from the lower city to be behind this. An operation of this scale would not have gone unnoticed by Silco or Sevika. Yet—barrels floated down the river, avoiding all traces... This was perfection.

Once you were sure everyone had moved away from the boat, you crept out of your hiding spot. The moon illuminated the narrow, sandy beach, its cold light reflecting off the small stones that sparkled like warnings. You pressed yourself against the side of the boat, trying to assess the situation. The last cart disappeared into the darkness, screeching loudly along the tracks.

You cursed quietly. You were too late. You missed the free transport, and time was working against you. If they came back and found you, everything would be ruined. You had to think of something quickly before panic fully took control of your thoughts.

You couldn’t risk it. If they had realized someone was following them, they would have changed the way they transported the goods, and then the trail would be lost forever. The problem was that the beach was bathed in moonlight—there was nowhere to hide, not even a patch of shadow to shield you. Going back to the other shore? That was out of the question. Your thoughts were racing chaotically, but eventually, a spark of an idea emerged. Risky, but better than doing nothing.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a match. With a trembling hand, you lit it, watching the bright flame disperse the darkness. You threw it into the pile of bags where you had been hiding. The fabric caught fire instantly, bursting into flames. Within seconds, chaos erupted.

Shouts and accusations tore through the silence.

“Who the hell left a lit cigarette?! Idiots!”

“It wasn’t me! I’m telling you, it wasn’t my fault!”

Without waiting for further arguments, you darted along the side of the boat to the furthest one. You hid, watching as the panicking smugglers tried to save the burning ship. They started towing it further from the shore so the fire wouldn’t spread to the rest of the boats.

This was your chance. Quietly, almost on all fours, you crawled toward the darkness. When the moon hid behind the clouds, you seized the brief moment and sprinted toward the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows. Your heart was pounding like crazy, but no one noticed you. Everyone was too busy fighting the fire.

You waited until the chaos subsided. The smugglers’ voices grew increasingly muffled, and eventually, everything went silent. Pleased, though clearly irritated, they returned to the lower city by boat. You were left alone, listening to the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore.

You were proud of yourself. Cunning paid off. Now you could return and report to Service with triumph, though mainly to rub it in her face. However, the darkness of the tunnel seemed too deep to use a flashlight. Instead, you touched the wall with one hand and tried to spot the tracks leading deeper into the city with your eyes. You knew they led straight to the heart of Piltover.

Your movement was slow, and the tension still kept you on edge. You shouldn’t have risked it. You could have returned to the shore and tried another day. But this wasn’t just about Silco—you had your own reasons for wanting to know what was going on in the tunnels.

The air was heavy, filled with a strange hum that sent shivers down your spine. You weren’t afraid of people or weapons, but nature—its untamed power—always stirred a primal fear within you. After hours of wandering in the dark, you spotted a faint glow in the distance. The hum grew louder, more aggressive. Water.

You quickened your pace until you finally reached the edge of a chasm. The tracks ended abruptly, at a point where the water crashed into the darkness. It was the place where several tunnels converged, and water was spilling wildly from them, creating a chaotic waterfall.

“Damn it!” you swore, looking around frantically. “They couldn’t have just disappeared like that…”

Fear gripped your throat, cold sweat ran down your back. If they hadn’t thrown the barrels in with the carts, you had no lead. You moved along the edge, walking cautiously by the wall. Every step could be your last.

Finally, you noticed a ladder hidden in a stone alcove. It reached high, stretching up for meters. You sighed heavily, knowing the climb would be painful—your muscles would remember it more than all the sparring with Sevika. You gritted your teeth and began climbing.

You were perhaps a few dozen meters above the roaring reservoir when you reached the next level. You jumped down from the ladder with relief, allowing yourself a short rest. You didn’t know how yet, but you had to get home. The ladder ended about five meters above you, which was almost a blessing—the further climb would have certainly been a torment.

However, you didn’t have time to relax. The sound of footsteps started growing somewhere to your left. You jumped up, ignoring protesting muscles, and hid in the shadows. A moment later, a man emerged from one of the corridors. He moved nervously, looking around in all directions. You recognized him immediately.

Zarys.

What was he doing here? You could have missed the trail of the barrels, but Zaryz was more important. Much more important. Without hesitation, you began following him. He was splashing water, rushing in a hurry. He was loud, clumsy, constantly glancing over his shoulder. You, on the other hand, stayed close to the wall, cautious and silent as a shadow.

Soon, he reached the stairs. As he ran up them, he stumbled three times, almost losing his shoes. Whatever was chasing him must have scared him badly. You stayed below, watching him fumble with a bundle of keys. He opened a gate and, pulling his hood over his head, disappeared into the darkness. You ran after him, hoping he hadn’t gone too far.

Through the bars, you saw him slip into one of the fancy houses. Whoever lived there, they were now hosting the dangerous scientist responsible for the latest variant of Shimmer. Was this where his boss stayed?

The gate was open—he must have forgotten to close it. You gently pushed it and stepped out onto the street. Piltover shone at night, its white walls, golden window frames, and perfectly trimmed bushes. You grimaced at the sight. In those houses, the Egonés played hypocritical games, indifferent to the suffering of the lower city.

There was no point in staying. You had to go back. But... you were lost. It was embarrassing to admit, but the unfamiliar city, the lack of access to rooftops, and the uniformly looking streets made it hard to orient yourself. Your only guide was the moon. You hoped it would lead you to the bridge. The sun would rise soon. All you needed was to blend in with the crowd of workers to cross the border unnoticed.

You heard the sound of water, meaning you were close to the exit of this labyrinth of white mansions. You almost sighed with relief when, behind you, you heard the distinctive click. You blinked, straightened your back, ready for an attack. Someone had pressed the barrel of a gun between your shoulder blades.

“A night out in the city for a little theft, huh?” The voice was rough and mocking.

“Since when can’t you go for a walk at night?” you snarled, turning your head.

Someone grabbed your shoulder and twisted it brutally. You heard the metallic clink of handcuffs.

Shit. You were caught.

You were pushed forward. You clenched your teeth, suppressing your anger. The guards had nothing on you, but getting into a fight could only make things worse. They prodded you straight to one of the posts.

Inside, it was cramped and stifling. The guard at the table was drinking something strong from a bottle he hid under the desk. The smell of alcohol lingered in the air. He looked up and measured you with a stare.

“What do we have here? Far from home, huh?”

“How do you know where I live?” you snapped, trying to yank your arms.

“Someone like you doesn’t come from the upper city. What were you doing here? A break-in? A theft? When will you learn that you’re not welcome here?”

Everything inside you was boiling. You wanted to throw something sharper at him, but you held back. He wasn’t going to let it go, though.

“Search this individual.”

The one who brought you in put his weapon on the table and approached. His hands started to touch you, and disgust rose within you. You knew he wouldn’t find your tools—your blades were well hidden. Still, you hated every move he made.

Until his hand stopped where it shouldn’t have.

You jerked, ignoring the handcuffs, and slammed your head into his nose with all your might. The cartilage cracked with an awful snap. Blood sprayed onto the floor, and he jumped back, cursing. You spat at his feet.

His fist collided with your face, and stars flashed before your eyes. You fell to the boards, your bound hands preventing you from getting up. You felt a kick to your side that knocked the air out of you.

“You ungrateful scum,” he crouched down, grabbing the front of your jacket. His face twisted into an angry grimace. “We’ll see if you’re still so talkative when a sentence hangs over you.”

Chapter Text

You wondered who would be angrier when it came to light that you had been arrested—if you even lived long enough to find out. The guards had managed to land a few more blows to your ribs and stomach before throwing you into the cell. You thought about your predicament—what else could you think about? Anyway, it was a curious question: would anyone even bother to look for you?

They were waiting to transfer you to Stillwater, pending paperwork from their superior. You weren’t counting on a miracle. Even if you somehow survived a week in prison before your body gave out without the booster, you didn’t expect anything more. You should’ve been terrified of such an end. You should’ve shuddered at the thought of how quickly you would fall apart. And yet, the only thing you felt was anger—at yourself. At the fact that you’d die before you could take revenge on those who had dragged you into this mess.

You imagined Sevika would be the one most enraged. Silco… you had no expectations of him anymore. He was as unpredictable as ever. One day honest, almost pleading for help; the next, cold and demanding, as if your condition didn’t matter at all.

God, how badly you wanted to hate him. But it wasn’t as easy as it used to be.

You weren’t a good person. You stole, you lied—you should’ve been rotting in prison for your crimes long ago. How could you judge him? It was easy to say it was just theft, but the money you took from someone’s pocket could have been all they had. You probably ruined more than one life because of it. Sure, you worked on a smaller scale than Silco, but in the end, you were a criminal too. The difference was that your victims never knew who had robbed them until it was too late. Everyone knew his name, and they could hurl accusations straight at his face. Living like that was far from comfortable.

And yet, it was him—Silco—who had shown you more care and understanding than the entire upper city combined. He could’ve left you to die on the street. The council, obligated to help, washed their hands clean and turned their gaze away from everything south of the river.

That’s why you were on his side. Even if he drove you insane lately, you were honest and loyal. There was a grim morality to his actions, but at least he acted instead of waiting for the mercy of the strong. You wished there was a way to cut ties with Piltover without resorting to illegal trade, but it wasn’t that simple. Zaun couldn’t afford independence, not when it was being exploited by the city above. Someone had to do the dirty work while the rest lounged in their cushioned chairs, sipping tea from expensive porcelain. If it were just about Piltover, you might have shrugged. Let them rot. But it wasn’t just about them. It was about everyone.

If you could help your people by finding those responsible for this new drug variant, you couldn’t refuse. Your people—yes, that sounded strange. Only now, standing at the edge of life and death, did you feel like you truly belonged to them. Maybe it was because you no longer saw a chance for yourself? Maybe you wanted to spend your last weeks saving others? But heroism made you nauseous. No, you weren’t doing this selflessly.

On one hand, you felt you owed Silco this help. On the other, you wanted to rub the council’s nose in it. Show them that even a scumbag from the lower city, with a rap sheet longer than her life, could do more than they ever had.

Being stuck in a cell was driving you mad, but at least you had time to think. You could almost see the disgust on the faces of the upper city folk when they found out they owed their lives to the scum from below. For obvious reasons, you probably wouldn’t get to witness it firsthand.

But your thoughts kept circling back to Silco. You wondered how angry he’d be when he found out about your arrest. Because he would find out. You kept telling yourself you loved to get under his skin. It was easier than admitting you eagerly awaited any form of attention from him. Your thoughts would scatter, and you’d resort to sharp remarks to hide how much he captivated you. Maybe you really were close to crawling back to him.

The worst part was that no matter how cruelly he treated you, you felt that, in his twisted way, he thought he was helping. He infuriated you. Drove you mad. He always hit the mark—his comments wounded your pride but were never off-target. And yet… he awakened a desire in you that could have outmatched your addiction if only you let it take over.

That’s why you only met with him when all you felt was hunger. His voice, his scent, his gaze… they all threw you off balance. It was easier to be angry at him, to blame him for all your problems, than to admit he drew you in in ways you didn’t want—or didn’t know how—to understand.

“Get up.” The guard smacked the metal bars of your cell with the butt of his rifle, startling you.

You let out a heavy sigh and swung your legs off the cot. So this was it.

“Hope you’ve got a first-class ticket for me, or I’m not going,” you quipped.

The closer you got to Stillwater, the dumber your jokes became. The guard entered the cell in the meantime. You held out your hands, ready for the cuffs, but he grabbed your arm and practically threw you into the corridor. You stumbled, fighting the urge to retaliate. Grabbing onto the bars, you steadied yourself. Before you could regain your footing, he struck your injured side with the butt of his rifle again. You growled at him, but another shove forced you to move.

Without ceremony, you were thrown out the door, no explanation given. They didn’t tell you if you were being released or if an execution squad was waiting outside. But was there even a point in wondering? You raised your hand and flipped them the bird.

“And fuck you too!” you shouted toward the doors.

People around you stared. Some in shock, others in fear. They were all upper city residents. You scoffed at them, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. Maybe there was a chance your arrest would go unnoticed. You glanced at the sky. You’d spent all day in the cell, and the sun was setting again. Returning to Zaun had never sounded more appealing. Unfortunately, the journey was twice as long with your aching ribs. You had to have bruised or broken something, as every breath burned like fire. Dried blood still clung to your face from when you’d been hit with a heavy, metal glove. No wonder people crossed the street to avoid you. You were drawing far too much attention. In the lower city, no one would bat an eye. But before you got there, your bloodied face would linger in the memory of a few, and the gossip would start.

You kept your head low, tugging your hood down to shield your eyes from the sharp sunlight. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the person you walked straight into. You bounced off them, landing on the ground in a puddle.

“Well, look who finally showed up.”

Oh, shit.

“Sevika?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She extended a hand toward you. Hesitantly, you accepted the help, wary of a trap. The fact that she didn’t attack you outright was even more unsettling. Once you were on your feet, and she was still holding your hand, she yanked you closer before letting go quickly.

You felt yourself falling face-first, but before you could extend your hands to cushion the impact, you were kicked in the backside with such force that you were shoved even further forward. So, she was mad—got it.

"I get it, I deserved that," you muttered, feeling the mud squelch between your fingers.

Sevika crouched in front of you and grabbed your hood, helping you up slightly.

"You are so dead right now."

Wiping the grime from your face, you got to your feet, this time under your own power. After a whole day, you smelled worse than a homeless person. Your clothes clung to you, and you weren’t even sure what caused it—blood, sweat, or dirt.

"So Silco knows too?"

"Who do you think bailed you out?"

You paused mid-motion while brushing sand off your pants, lifting your head to look up at her.

"What did he do?"

"Have they beaten you so bad you lost your senses? Too bad I wasn’t the first," she replied, pulling a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it leisurely, indifferent to your impatience. "He bailed you out of jail. Otherwise, you’d already be on your way to Stillwater."

You should’ve been grateful to return in one—albeit battered—piece, but everything screamed that this time, you were in deep trouble. You felt the blood drain from your face.

"I’m so dead right now," you whispered after her, voice trembling.

"Move. He wants to see you."

The mere thought of facing him that day made your head spin with fear. You were certain this was the end of your career and, with it, your chance for revenge.
"Do I at least have a moment to wash this filth off me?"

She didn’t answer. It would be odd to stand before Silco looking like you’d slept in a dumpster, but Sevika kept a firm grip on your arm to ensure you wouldn’t escape. She didn’t say another word on the way to the Last Drop, though she didn’t need to—her smirk of satisfaction made it clear she was enjoying your misery.

The closer you got to the bar, the more of his people you encountered. Their whistles and comments flew the moment they spotted you in Sevika’s grip. Some even started trailing behind, hoping for entertainment, but one glare from her sent them scattering. Oh, how you wished you could disappear along with them.

Inside, the atmosphere was quieter than usual, with fewer people around—maybe it was still too early. Conversations halted the moment Sevika shoved you through the doors. All eyes were on you, their stares heavy with curiosity about what you’d done.

"You have five minutes," she said, nodding toward the bathroom door. "Don’t even think about running."

You didn’t waste any time, shoving the door open and quickly washing your hands and face. Your clothes were beyond saving in these conditions, but at least your cheeks were no longer streaked with blood and dirty water. The cut on your brow began to bleed again. You didn’t want to give Sevika a chance to drag you out by the hair, so you emerged early, pressing a piece of paper towel to your forehead.

She sat on a couch surrounded by her fan club, now somehow holding a drink. She glanced at you briefly before shifting her gaze to the stairs. Apparently, you weren’t worth a second more of her time.

Your heart pounded against your bruised ribs. You gasped for air with every step, praying you wouldn’t faint before you reached the top. Whatever awaited you upstairs... a beating from Sevika suddenly seemed more appealing.

A strange sense of humility washed over you, one no one would have ever suspected of you. You knocked on the door, feeling like you were heading to your execution. He left you standing there for agonizingly long minutes. You leaned against the wall to avoid collapsing.

When you finally stepped inside, you understood how others must feel in Silco’s presence. He stood facing the window, hands clasped behind his back. The sight was almost stoic, serene even. Yet you knew it would only take a second for his temper to ignite into something you’d never witnessed.

Well, here goes nothing.

"If this is about the incident, it wasn’t my fault. Everything was under control until—"

"Under control?" he asked with calculated calm, turning slowly to face you. His voice was cold, making your heart freeze for a moment. "You were arrested. That’s your definition of control?"

You clenched your hands, already imagining the bones you’d like to crush. Fighting him seemed oddly tempting—maybe then he’d finally explode and reveal what he really thought.

"I did what I had to do. I tracked the shipment to the upper city. I saw Zarys—"

"Where are they moving the barrels?"

The way he interrupted you shattered the last remnants of your confidence. His icy tone pierced your thoughts like a blade.

"Well, I don’t know exactly. The trail went cold, but—"

"Where is Zarys?"

His voice grew sharper, almost cutting. With every question, he stepped closer, and you felt your body tense as if bracing for an attack. You shrank slightly, knowing he’d extract what you didn’t want to share.

"I saw him hiding in one of the houses."

"Which one?" His footsteps grew louder, more forceful. "Whose house? What district?"

You threw your hands up in exasperation, knowing nothing you said would satisfy him. Rage started bubbling under your skin, your fists clenched tightly to stop yourself from throwing something heavy at him.

"Stop taking it out on me because you lost money! I was on my way here to report when they grabbed me. It’s not my fault!"

His face remained stoic, as if your outburst were nothing more than an irritating buzz in the background. He reached for his smoldering cigar, ignoring you in a way that made your heart race even faster. He was toying with your emotions, provoking you, and you knew it was deliberate.

"Just like you were on your way to tell me about the mutations?" he asked, his gaze slicing through you. Before you could respond, he added, "Yes, I know."

"Silco—"

"Did it ever occur to you that this information might have affected the mission? That maybe you were needed elsewhere? No, of course not," he laughed, but it sounded like a blade scraping against stone. "Don’t expect me to be honest with you if you’re withholding information like this."

"So I’ve learned something from you after all," you spat through gritted teeth. You felt the venom in your words burn your throat, but you couldn’t hold it back.

He raised an eyebrow, and his smile resembled a blade ready to strike. He sat on the sofa with a nonchalance that almost immobilized you. He didn’t need to flaunt superiority—his confidence and icy demeanor were enough to make you feel like the ground was slipping out from under you.

"I’m starting to wonder if I overestimated your usefulness. I don’t need people who get caught."

"Usefulness? Is that really all I am to you?"

"Don’t play innocent. You chose this path yourself."

"Yes, but not so you could treat me like a tool. Maybe you’ve forgotten I’m doing this for you."

"No," his voice turned into a growl, and his posture betrayed that he was losing control of his emotions. "Everything you’ve been doing lately is for yourself."

His words struck you. You had hoped your jabs would unnerve him, but instead, they hurt you. Your anger dimmed for a moment, like a flame snuffed out, leaving only a heavy silence.

"Are you mocking me now? Do you seriously think I hunt down your enemies for my own amusement?"

"You had one job," his voice was low and sharp, each word seemingly wrenched from his throat with difficulty. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his finger pointed at you in a way that almost paralyzed you. "Find out where they’re moving the goods. The trail goes cold, so you come back and report what you saw. Not march straight into the center!"

Fire danced in his eyes. You were sure his outburst was a cover for something deeper—something you didn’t yet understand. Something you had been waiting for all this time, but it had arrived at the wrong moment, in the wrong place.

"If only you had the courage to admit you rely on me instead of playing your games..."

He stood so abruptly he nearly knocked over the table. In two steps, he was in front of you, and his presence was overwhelming. You didn’t back away, though your whole body screamed to take a step back. Too much, too close.

"Rely on you? I was forced to buy you out! Maybe I should have left you at Piltover’s mercy since you can’t even keep your own promises."

You felt something in him snap. Anger filled the space between you, but its source seemed far deeper.

"Then why didn’t you? After all, I’m nothing more to you, right?"

You jabbed a finger into his chest, and for a moment, he froze. Something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of pain crossed his face before it disappeared under the mask of cold composure.

"Because I couldn’t! If you’d stayed there, then..." He broke off, turning away from you abruptly. He started adjusting stray strands of hair as if trying to regain lost control. "I couldn’t let such an investment go to waste."

His words pierced you like a knife. In an instant, the old Silco was back—cold, calculating. There wasn’t even a shadow of the understanding you thought had been born that one night.

"Of course. It’s just about the investment, isn’t it?"

"You can leave."

You didn’t respond. Your body trembled with suppressed rage, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You let out a frustrated sigh and ran out of the office, leaving behind a heavy silence. You needed to be alone.

***

You knelt on the hard stones, scrubbing the floor with freezing soapy water. You had to get rid of the stain; otherwise, this place would never feel like yours. The brush nearly broke in your hands. You’d been at it for two hours. Your weary muscles screamed for mercy, but with the sweat, you were purging every emotion. It was better this way.

Sevika hadn’t stopped you when you ran down the stairs. Either they had heard your shouting, or your expression alone was enough proof that you understood your place in the hierarchy. Oh, you knew. You’d known from the start, but you had deluded yourself into thinking Silco was, above all, human. His attention flattered you. It made you feel recognized. You were foolish. He had found a new toy, one he discarded as soon as it started showing its own will. You wanted to see the man in him, but he kept donning the monster’s mask, pushing you away whenever you didn’t dance to his tune.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand and sat heavily near the wet stain. There was no trace of blood left. You had erased the memory of how he had bled out here. It had been a strange evening, one that should have brought people closer. You had genuinely worried about his condition and had been ready for the most absurd actions to save him. Because you were starting to like him. Truly and honestly, especially after he admitted he worried about you. You had seen something more than the cynical facade he wore every day like his coat. You had hoped he felt something similar toward you. You shared a secret; you had saved his life. But he couldn’t express gratitude in any other way than with a strange gesture.

You considered selling the tower and trying to escape somewhere far away, somewhere where there might be a solution to your problems. Some other medicine, maybe… But everything tasted sour after the recent fight. You wished you could wash away all memories of him the same way.

Because you had been unimaginably foolish.

Nothing was simple with Silco. Everyone knew that. Docility wasn’t in the set of traits you inherited from your parents, nor had you acquired it throughout your life. Standing up to him mattered to you; it filled you with pride that you hadn’t buckled under the weight of fear. Until the moment he touched you for the first time when you needed the drug. That moment hit you harder than any alcohol ever could. You could still feel his hand on you. The difference was that before, it had been gentle, tender; now it held your face in a grip that wouldn’t let you turn away as he berated you.

It was twisted.

You felt sick knowing you had let infatuation and fascination overshadow your true goal. You seriously contemplated fleeing the city. If not for the recurring pain, you would have done it that very evening. Unfortunately, whether you liked it or not, Silco had you in his grasp, even now. You feared that when you returned home, you’d find out you had been fired. He was capable of it. Pride and honor wouldn’t let you stoop to begging or searching for dealers who would charge a price you could never repay in your lifetime.

You’d rather die.

At the very thought of suffering, fear surged within you. You patted the stone wall beside you, knowing the tower would make an ideal grave. Whether you liked it or not, you were dependent on Silco—more so with each passing day. But you’d sooner bite your tongue off than go back there to ask for more.

You needed to rise higher. Somewhere the air was different. Somewhere the wind could blow away everything from your mind—including the memory of his scent. You caught yourself sniffing the collar of your jacket, hoping to catch a trace. But all that remained was the smell of dirt and sweat. Perhaps it was better this way.

You wanted to think of him only as your boss. Nothing more. Unfortunately, you weren’t sure if that was still true. You were glad you hadn’t thrown away the bottle Leon gave you. You needed to numb your body and mind; otherwise, the galloping thoughts wouldn’t let you sleep and might provoke you into doing something stupid. You sat on the rooftop, observing the city.

“I fucked up, okay?” you shouted into the void. “I tried to help you, but…”

Your voice broke, and for the first time in years, you felt tears streaming down your cheeks. You felt used. Somewhere deep in your heart, dreams of helping others had taken root, only to be crushed almost immediately. You should have laughed at your own naivety, but instead, you felt empty. You thought you had found a purpose, a direction to move toward.

Yet, you were still living day by day. Previously, the contents of your wallet dictated whether you’d see the next sunrise, knowing you could end up on the streets at any moment. Later, you extended your time with shimmer, but only as much as your body could handle. You wanted to make your days count, to use the time given to you for something meaningful. You genuinely believed that Zarys would hold the answers, perhaps even a cure for you.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you’d think about it calmly. Act independently. Without Silco, you had only a few days left. He was furious beyond words when you entered his office, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he decided he’d already helped you enough. Yes, you believed he could be that cruel.

You took a long swig from the bottle and started laughing. Leon would’ve skinned you alive if he knew THAT Silco had gotten into your head, and you’d let yourself be charmed like a lovesick teenager. What a disgrace. At least you could recover from that. But your body remembered. Even if he never went further than that single gesture, it was enough. You knew you wouldn’t forget anytime soon. You feared you’d become more addicted to his scent than to the drug. Now you faced a double withdrawal, and you didn’t know which would be harder.

You kept revisiting the argument, like poking a sore tooth. Something about it didn’t sit right with you. Your memories, distorted by anger and despair, still held onto that strange glimmer of pain in his eyes, as if you had hurt him with your actions. It was irrational. He couldn’t blame you for being arrested when it wasn’t your fault. Sure, you messed up by not telling him about the mutation, but in the chaos of events, you genuinely forgot. He wouldn’t believe you now, but you had planned to tell him right after you filed your report. You didn’t blame Sevika for spilling the beans. She’d threatened to do it, and at least she had the decency to follow through.

If you'd stayed there, then...

If you had stayed, you’d be sitting in Stillwater right now, locked up with a sentence hanging over your head. You had no idea what he meant by that. First, he criticized absurd gaps in the task you’d completed, despite the fact that you’d gone above and beyond, uncovering new information. If you had done as he said and returned to shore with the smugglers, you’d never have discovered that Zarys could be found in the underground. That was a lead worth pursuing.

If you'd stayed there, then...

If he feared you would reveal his secrets, it meant he didn’t trust you at all. You might not like him, but you would never sell out someone from Zaun to the enforcers. You weren’t that low yet.

If you'd stayed there, then...

“Then what?!” you screamed, hurling the bottle into the abyss below.

It shattered with a dull, sharp crash that echoed briefly against the walls. Shards scattered across the street below. You could have hit someone, but you didn’t care. Your head spun. You were bruised, sore, and tired. Drunk. In this state, you wouldn’t make it back to the center. So why not stay on the roof, in the one place that was yours?

You knew he could find you here if he wanted. But why the hell would he? Maybe just to torment you further. Perhaps you should’ve disappeared for good while you had the chance. To think you trusted him, believed he cared about your well-being. How could you be so foolish?

With Silco, nothing was ever simple.

Chapter Text

It's interesting how, in just one year living above the pub, Leon taught you more about life than your own father ever did. One evening, before you went out looking for an opportunity, Leon sat you down on a barstool against your will and started pontificating. Back then, you didn’t realize how deeply his words would resonate in your life.

“In your life, you'll find more than one job, and you'll leave more than one. The most important thing is to always be the first to act. To have control, even over your own dismissal. People like to humiliate others when given a little power. No one has the right to demean you unless you let them, and that often happens when you're thrown out onto the street. Trust me, you'll feel better leaving on your own terms than waiting for their decision. It’s your life, isn’t it?”

You thought about this as you returned to the hideout. You had envisioned several endings to that absurd argument. Silco accused you of incompetence—an insult that burned every inch of your skin. They could accuse you of many things, but when it came to work, you gave more than you should have. He hit the mark painfully, as if he knew exactly where to strike. So why should you wait for further humiliation?

You needed to collect your things, mainly the photo you kept under your pillow. The rest could be left behind. Going through the main door could lead to a few outcomes: you'd either be stopped before reaching them or attacked right afterward. Neither option was appealing. You preferred not to squeeze through the crowd, enduring their remarks. And there would be remarks. They had seen Sevika dragging you into the Last Drop, dirty and bloodied. Rumors had surely spread by now—people loved talking about others’ failures because it made them forget their own shortcomings.

Whatever decision Silco had made, you needed to get ahead of it and disappear before he decided firing you wasn’t enough. You felt his wounded ego—or whatever the hell it was—might provoke him to go further. No one willingly approaches a wasp’s nest and pokes it with a stick.

That’s why there weren’t many people outside, just one sleeping guard at the door. Interesting whether he was actually on duty or just stepped out to escape the noise. You looked at the building that had served as your home for a while. You couldn’t go back to Leon, and certainly not to the ruins—they’d search there first. But that was a problem for later.

You circled the building, stepping quietly. Glancing upward, you saw with relief that the window was still open, just as you'd left it. This meant no one had rummaged through the room looking for valuables yet. A few more steps, one vertical climb, and it would be over.

You kept your anger burning hot to drown out everything else. It fueled adrenaline and gave you strength. Even with your aching side and growing hunger, you didn’t feel tired. Adjusting your short gloves, you slid your foot into a familiar crevice. You’d climbed this way so many times you could do it with your eyes closed.

Halfway up, you paused to focus on the sounds. You heard voices and soft snoring. You’d spent half the night in the tower before deciding to return. Sleep had become a luxury lately.

But from your room, you heard nothing suspicious.

"Your room"—the phrase was starting to feel out of place. You needed just five minutes. You didn’t even have to step off the windowsill to grab the photo. A few moves later, your fingers gripped the window frame. The metal bit into your hands. The room was dark, most of it shrouded in shadows.

You weren’t expecting an ambush, but still, before climbing fully inside, you glanced around. Everything seemed fine.

"Had a good look?"

"Fuck!" you shouted, feeling yourself tip backward.

You let go of the frame in shock, and your center of gravity shifted. You were close to falling but managed to grab one of the outward-opening shutters. It protested loudly but held. Your heart pounded against your sore ribs. Fear began replacing anger. Your legs and hands trembled. Taking a shaky breath, you carefully moved your feet forward. Once secure, you reached for the frame again and slipped into the room, sitting on the windowsill.

Sevika sat in a chair with her legs on the table, looking exceptionally at ease. It was strange and unnerving, but she wasn’t smiling, even though she’d just scared you half to death. Something felt off—she should have been smug.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

You snapped, waiting for the stress to subside so you could step onto the floor without shaky knees.

"Waiting for you to graciously return," she replied.

You grimaced at her words.

"Not enough for him? Now you have to pile on in his name too?"

"Excuse me. I’m doing this purely for my own amusement."

You rolled your eyes as you dropped to the floor. Tossing your backpack beside her, you reached under the pillow. Standing with your back to her, you smoothed out the creases in the photo before tucking it into the back pocket of your pants.

"Either way, I won’t be staying long."

You heard the chair creak as she planted her feet on the ground.

"And where are you off to this time, if I may ask?"

You glanced over your shoulder. She was sitting forward, staring at you with an intensity that, weeks ago, would have frozen your blood.

"I don’t know, somewhere far away."

"I see you’re deep in your own narrative, acting like the main character," she scoffed. "I’ve been waiting for you for hours, so don’t think you’re disappearing now."

"Sevika, I’m tired of all this. Say whatever you have to say, and let’s get it over with."

You leaned back against the windowsill, ready to bolt at any moment. Sevika settled comfortably into her seat, throwing an arm over the backrest.

"I’m not sure I like this attitude. I prefer it when you fight back," she said, pausing as if to let her next words carry more weight. "I don’t know what you’re thinking, but for shirking your duties like this, you deserve some kind of punishment. I’m not good at that stuff, so I’ll just take it out on our training sessions."

"What are you talking about?"

For an organized crime syndicate, it seemed everyone had different information. How was it that Silco’s right hand still didn’t know—

"He didn’t fire you," she said, as if reading your mind.

You stared at her blankly. What she said was a logical sequence of words arranged correctly, but your brain refused to process it. Something was happening that you couldn’t understand. Silco hadn’t used those exact words, of course, but everything in your conversation pointed to it. People who get caught are useless to me—logical, right? Apparently not to them.

The question remained: why had Sevika waited hours for you when she could have grabbed you at any time?

And then it dawned on you.

She didn’t know where to find you. Sevika—the terror of Zaun, who supposedly knew everything—couldn’t track down one thief. You should have mocked her for it, but you weren’t in the mood to laugh. The only person who knew about your whereabouts was Silco. For some reason, he hadn’t told her. Before, you’d have been grateful—now all you had was a cold emptiness.

“You said you were waiting.”

You deliberately ignored her earlier words, not yet ready to delve into their meaning. She noticed but didn’t push.

“After you ran out of the bar with tears in your eyes…”

“I wasn’t crying,” you cut her off sharply.

“My bad,” she raised her hands slightly. “After you ran out of the bar, not crying but with watery eyes, Silco called me in. I didn’t ask questions, but he was deeply agitated, unlike his usual self, as if this time he couldn’t find a solution. I’ve only seen him like that once, and I don’t ever want to again. Anyway, the point is, I was ordered to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid, and we both know you’re more than capable of that.”

You clenched your jaw to keep from snapping. He was impossible.

“So what, I’m a prisoner again? Either I behave, or I’m not allowed out? You know I can escape anytime I want, right?”

“And do you know that?” she shot back, throwing you off balance. “You drinking? You look like you need it.”

The question was both out of place and completely on point. Why hadn’t you run yet? If it was so bad, what was keeping you here? Oh right, shimmer. It’s your life, isn’t it? Leon’s voice echoed in the hollow space between your ears. If you decided everything, that included how you die—even if it was due to a lack of the drug, the decision would still be yours. Yet, you couldn’t move your feet off the floor.

“What?” you asked, unable to recall her words.

Sevika smirked slightly and stood up.

“Move your ass; it’s going to be a long night.”

“Is that an order?”

“No, but I’ll drag you if I have to.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. You felt that in different circumstances, you might have liked her. But she reminded you too much of Silco. By following her, you might get answers. Staying in the room would get you none. You shrugged and trailed after her. Things were happening that you didn’t understand, but if they did, you’d be fuming for weeks—you were sure of that.

The clock read two in the morning. The corridors were empty, but somewhere downstairs, you could hear conversations. The new sharpness in your hearing was useful, but you could’ve done without knowing that Bonnie had the best ass of them all. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought, but you’d seen Bonnie a few times and seriously doubted the judgment.

Sevika opened the door to her room, letting you in first. You were truly exhausted. You hadn’t slept in the cell, and after the fight with Silco, sleep hadn’t dared approach you, as if it feared you. You should have been collapsing, barely able to stand, but anger kept you steady. Sevika pulled two short glasses from a cabinet and poured something amber-colored into them. She shoved a drink into your hand and dropped heavily into her seat. Damn, Silco drank something similar—it smelled all too familiar. You set the glass on the desk and looked at her uncertainly. You shouldn’t be here.

“What happened in the Piltover?”

She asked, pulling a cigarette from her pocket, but she didn’t light it, as if waiting for your words.

“You know, I’m not really in the mood to chat,” you replied quietly, knowing your voice might betray you.

“If you tell me what went down, I might have some information for you. Deal?” she extended her hand.

You studied her for a moment, suspicious, but there were no signs of deception. Whatever was on her mind, she was being genuine. Maybe you’d find out why Silco was so furious. You sighed heavily and shook her hand.

“The trail for the goods disappeared in the tunnels. They transport it by railcars, but the tracks vanish into darkness. I figured I couldn’t do more that day, so I looked for a way out. I had to get back to the surface. Halfway up, I saw Zarys.”

“That guy with the mix? What was he doing there?”

“If you’d stop interrupting, you’d learn that he was running like his life depended on it,” you glared at her. “He disappeared behind some house. Even I’m not dumb enough to go in there unprepared. I kept looking for a way to the bridge when a patrol grabbed me. They thought I was a thief. I am, obviously, but being called that to my face stings.”

“You must’ve done something to get locked up.”

You smiled slightly, still a bit proud of yourself.

“I broke a guard’s nose,” you said nonchalantly, but seeing Sevika’s expression, you quickly added, “He was getting handsy—what was I supposed to do?”

She snorted and took a big swig from her glass, almost draining it.

“Not the smartest move, attacking guards on their turf, but if they deserved it…”

You started to feel strangely at ease, even though your drink remained untouched. A new sensation in Sevika’s presence. Maybe you just needed to get it off your chest? Nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

“I was ready for a first-class trip to Stillwater when they tossed me onto the street without a word. You know the rest.”

“Fair enough. Still doesn’t explain why Silco’s so pissed.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m the one cleaning up his messes. The man doesn’t give a damn that his little tantrums ripple through everyone else. I’m trying to figure out who I should be mad at for giving me extra work.”

“And you think I’m to blame?” you raised your voice.

You should’ve expected that somehow the blame would fall on you again. The idea of running became more tempting.

“That’d be too easy. Especially after what you said, I don’t see how you could’ve screwed up the job. What did Silco say?”

Thinking back to that conversation wasn’t pleasant. You were always ready to argue with him—truth be told, you enjoyed it sometimes, as he occasionally contradicted himself. But this time was different. He attacked with precision and intent.

“He accused me of being incompetent,” you quickly grabbed your glass and took a sip. The alcohol burned your throat but didn’t stop your words. “He said he doesn’t need people who get caught. That’s why I was sure I was fired.”

Sevika fell silent, deep in thought. If even she couldn’t make sense of Silco’s behavior, maybe he really was mad, and his outbursts weren’t worth overthinking. She propped one leg on the desk edge and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

“If you weren’t needed, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to bail you out. You’d be sitting nice and cozy in a Stillwater cell right now.”

“How did he find out?”

She looked at you as if you were an idiot.

“Seriously, you haven’t figured it out? He pays off more than half the guards in the city and all of them in Zaun. He has his informants in every station. I don’t know how he does it. For you, he used one of his fake names to make sure the money couldn’t be traced back to him.”

You flinched at the sound of those words.

“Fine, you’ve got your information. What do you have for me?”

“Hold on, you’re not telling me everything—I can see it,” she teased, wagging her finger lazily.

You didn’t have the energy to argue. The problem was that you were approaching the part of the conversation that hurt you the most. Well, keeping it bottled up might cause more damage later when you’d start blowing his words out of proportion. You lifted your head and answered, looking her directly in the eyes.

“He let me believe I was more than just a problem, that I wasn’t entirely responsible for my situation. And then he called me an investment…”

“That’s what this is about? That’s what you’re offended by?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “If only you’d heard how—”

“You don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to. I thought… I thought we were in this together, but apparently, I’m just a vessel for a drug so he can observe how it changes people. Sometimes I doubt he’s even looking for a solution.”

She narrowed her eyes as if searching for a hidden meaning in your words, but you were being honest. Silco moved too slowly, and you often ended up hitting dead ends because of him. You ventured into forbidden territory, and it usually yielded the desired results. You knew too many pieces of the puzzle were still missing, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Silco was overly cautious.

“I have to disagree with you there,” she said quietly. “Even if it’s not obvious, shimmer occupies all his attention now. I know because guess who’s stuck with everything else?” she added, pointing her thumbs at herself.

“After everything I’ve done… Look, I’m not expecting any medals for loyalty—I know it’s my damn job to follow orders. I knew what I was signing up for when I joined. I just didn’t think my life would get this complicated, that’s all. He gave me free rein regarding my addiction. He acted like my skills were actually useful. But now I see that it’s the drug he’s interested in. He immediately called me out for hiding my mutations.”

Sevika spat out her drink, cursing loudly between coughs.

“You didn’t tell him?!”

You shrugged. You couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore.

“There wasn’t time. I don’t blame you for telling him—he had to hear it from someone. At least now I know you stick to your threats.”

You raised your glass in a pathetic toast before staring into its depths. Maintaining your anger was draining. You weren’t upset about the fierce argument you’d had—it might’ve even been amusing if not for the fact he used your previous conversation against you. That conversation where you thought he saw you as a person, not just a carrier for shimmer who hadn’t died yet. It was deliberate. He wanted to hurt you. You knew he was capable of it, but you’d fooled yourself into thinking you were different.

You felt sick. Partly from exhaustion and drinking on an empty stomach, but mostly because you let him manipulate you. You let him get under your skin. You’d dropped your guard the first time he looked at you earnestly. You’d fallen for it. You’d been flattered that he might have a soft spot for you, but apparently, you’d been horribly mistaken.

“I’m surprised you haven’t left yet,” she said, pulling you from your thoughts.

You felt embarrassed when you noticed a hint of concern on her face.

“I’m surprised at myself too, but, surprise, surprise, I’ve got nowhere to go,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you growled, downing the rest of your drink in hopes the alcohol would burn away whatever pathetic thing had just surfaced.

You slammed the glass down. You’d come to the compound planning to disappear for good, even if it was only for a few days of freedom. And instead, here you were, sitting in Sevika’s room, analyzing the erratic behavior of your unpredictable boss—something you’d sworn you wouldn’t bother with anymore.

“You know where they keep the shimmer.”

You lifted your head, hearing something strange in her voice.

“Get to the point, Sevika,” you replied cautiously.

“With everything Silco’s pulling, using you left and right, I wouldn’t be surprised if you switched sides.”

You jumped to your feet, ready to leave, but instead, you began pacing the room, feeling like you might explode if you didn’t channel your anger somehow.

“I thought you were different,” you growled, reaching for the door handle.

Sevika quickly stood up, knocking over her chair, and approached you. She placed her hand on the door and leaned slightly toward you.

“Sorry, that was cruel. I didn’t mean it this time.”

She nodded toward the chair, inviting you back to the conversation. You should have left—you really should have. But instead, you obediently sat down and hung your head.

“Do you really see me as nothing more than an empty shell driven by addiction?”

“Shit,” Sevika whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Listen, I’m really sorry. It’s just… I’m not good at this. It’s just… your loyalty fascinates me.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“I know, damn it. Let me rephrase. I’m impressed you found a lead on more shimmer, and yet you still came back to us.”

It was almost kind. But this was Sevika. Could she even be genuinely and selflessly kind to anyone? You raised your head. She rested her elbows on the desk, impatiently waiting for you to say something. She genuinely seemed regretful. And that made you feel awkward. You cleared your throat and straightened your back.

“Well, believe it or not, I have a bigger goal in mind than just getting high. Unfortunately, I know that in a few days, I’ll be a pathetic little pile of shit again. And then I’ll have to face him. When I’m going through withdrawal, I lose control of myself. I don’t know how I’ll act, but I know he’ll seize every opportunity to break me. I’d rather not imagine how he’ll react to seeing me—or whether he’ll give me another dose. So, I’ve got nowhere to run. Until I solve this or die, I’ll have to keep going back to him, no matter how much he hurts me.”

Damn it, you’d said too much. Sevika fell silent. The silence between you was heavy, charged with intense emotions. You glanced at her and immediately regretted it. Her eyes were a mix of anger and pain—a combination you didn’t need to see from her. Whatever was going through her mind, you’d rather not be the target of it. But for the first time, it felt like her anger wasn’t directed at you.

“Well…” she began slowly. “In that case, you’ll be glad to know that, besides the order to babysit you, I also have a dose for you, just in case you need it.”

“What do you have?”

“Silco disappeared right after talking to you. Sometimes he does that, and when he—”

“I know, you’ve got more work to do,” you interrupted her, slightly irritated. “Where did he go?”

Chapter Text

This time, there was no one to share your new theory with. After training with Sevika, you felt the need to think. It wasn’t as surprising as discovering that darkness didn’t work against you or that you could hear sounds from distances imperceptible to others. Lately, those abilities felt oddly natural. Sara was still impressed by how quickly you found her tools in the basement despite the lamp malfunction. She didn’t ask questions but cast curious glances when you lingered near the kitchen.

But this… this was disturbingly strange. The wound on your hand was proof that the incident had indeed happened. The problem was, you had no idea how to explain it. You heard a sound. Your body reacted on its own, as if to an unexpected attack. Quick reflexes were a necessity in your profession, but your hand had moved far too fast. You tried to replicate the movement, but nothing changed. You must have looked like a lunatic, flailing your arms around. Yet none of it compared to the speed you had experienced earlier. Unlike the other mutations you had undergone, this one wasn’t constant. Fleeting, easy to overlook—if not for the unsettling feeling it left in your chest.

You hadn’t reacted like that even once during your training with Sevika. You kept telling yourself that adrenaline and shimmer were behind it all. But what if they weren’t? What if each dose was changing you until you became someone unrecognizable? Would you still be able to look at yourself in the mirror? Your identity was defined by your experiences, not the amount of drugs in your system. You wanted to remain yourself for as long as possible, but the challenges you faced made it incredibly difficult.

For the first time in a long while, you lacked the strength to run far. Was that another change beyond your control? If you met someone from your past, would they be able to spot the differences? Losing yourself terrified you more than death. You didn’t want to leave this world knowing you were a walking mutation and not… yourself.

Sitting on the windowsill in your room, you dangled your legs out the window. From your perch, you could see the city sinking into valleys that formed glimmering fissures in the ground. It was a view you had grown accustomed to, one you’d recently started to appreciate. There was something intriguing about the chaos.

Aside from that one mention, you hadn’t brought up your feelings to Sevika again. You were beginning to respect her more than before. She had her reasons for not sharing everything that weighed on her mind. She understood your hesitation about withholding information from Silco. The fact that she kept her word made you feel like you could trust her when the time came. Even though she didn’t have to, she tried to steer you onto the right path whenever you strayed. Of course, she didn’t shy away from insults and threats, but she was rarely wrong. It was as if she genuinely tried to understand your perspective before passing judgment. And even when you often got yourself into trouble, she gave you a chance for one last explanation.

She didn’t have to tell you that you were being watched. Nor did she have to share Silco’s behavior after your argument. She stood firmly by his side and could have ignored the matter entirely. Yet she decided that what you had to say was worth something. You wanted to like her—really, you did. But everything about her reminded you of him.

Silco had apparently decided he’d had enough and vanished for a while. Whatever he was doing shouldn’t have been your problem. As long as he didn’t suspend the search, you should have been satisfied. So why couldn’t you be? Why did you keep leaving that thread open in your mind?

Despite your still-strong feelings for him, you decided the safest course of action was to distance yourself personally and focus on work. Maybe if you started looking at him as just your boss, your life would get simpler. That, however, required him to think of you as merely an employee. Unfortunately, his behavior didn’t support that notion. But well, one of you had to be the smarter one.

That didn’t mean you would leave all the decisions to him, though. If he acted irrationally, you had no intention of nodding along to foolish ideas. You weren’t crazy—yet. Sevika had advised you to stay at the base for now due to potential patrols. Once things calmed down, you could return to your usual outdoor tasks. It was odd that her words weren’t a command but a request. She probably knew you’d ignore an order and sneak out under the cover of night if you felt like it.

He’d been gone for four days now. Sitting on the windowsill, you decided to give him one more day before heading back to the upper city to search for clues. The longer you waited, the greater the chance you’d be too late to stop whoever was behind this.

You were deeply curious about what Zarys was doing there. You were convinced he was just another lower-city schemer who’d wormed his way into the higher echelons by offering his skills. Who was he, really? His profile didn’t indicate anything special—if it was even real. He could have just as easily assumed a new name and erased his tracks to get a job at the factory. But why? Why go to such lengths and create a new drug?

As far as you knew, it hadn’t hit the streets yet. So, he wasn’t making it to enslave people. Were they exporting it to other countries? That would be a direct path to war. Or maybe it was meant as a weapon. Who stood to profit from this?

So many questions, so few answers.

And only three minds to work on a solution. It felt like a recipe for disaster.

You planned to put your mind to work on solving this. You spent the rest of the day making notes about everything you knew, so you could revisit them and look for further connections. Some might call your thoroughness a sign of servility. Of course, you didn’t intend to share any of it with Silco. That would be childish and reek of petty vengeance. You didn’t want to prove anything to him; you just needed to clear some mental space for other facts.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep with your face on the desk. A strange sound, like scraping, woke you. You recognized it—similar noises came from your lockpicks. Groggy from sleep, your body still recognized the potential threat and reacted on its own. One moment you were sitting at the desk making notes, and the next, you were standing by the door, waiting for the intruder to step inside.

Who could be so foolish?

The door creaked open softly. Oh, of course, now it decided not to squeak. A narrow beam of light spilled into the room. You stood on the other side of the door, watching the shadow of a figure lurking at the entrance. Too late, you realized your knife was safely tucked under your pillow. You cursed silently. There wouldn’t be time to reach for it.

First, a foot appeared, then a hand reaching for the door. He tried to move as quietly as possible, but his bulky frame barely fit through the doorway. You tried to recall what Sevika had said about using an opponent’s weight against them. Were you strong enough for that?

Without hesitation, instinctively, you grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard. He yelped in pain, startled by your attack. His free hand reached for his belt. You acted without thinking. A kick sent his gun flying under the bed, where it hit the wall with a soft thud. Whoever he was, you didn’t recognize his face.

Before you could strike again, he raised his head and landed a punch squarely on your jaw. The blow snapped your head back, and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You wiped your lip, feeling the sting of a split. That moment’s pause cost you a fraction of a second—one breath too long.

The attacker took advantage of the opportunity, trying to break free, but you acted faster than you thought possible. Your knife was out of reach, but your hands were close enough. You grabbed his shoulder and yanked, forcing him off balance. Your knee slammed into his chest, pinning him to the ground.

He struggled, trying to free his arm, but the pressure you applied effectively immobilized him. You felt his muscles trembling and the strength he put into resisting. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your face, you pressed your knee down harder, trapping his other arm.

"I should kill you," you hissed through clenched teeth.

"Traitorous cunt!" he spat, attempting to spit at you, but the saliva landed pathetically on his own cheek. "You won't push me out."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Everyone sees how you're kissing Sevika's ass. You're not taking my promotion."

He had completely lost it. Everything happened in seconds. You weren’t thinking; you acted on instinct. Your response was swift, too swift for your usual capabilities. Footsteps echoed in the hallway—someone was coming your way.

Without waiting for him to try attacking again, you twisted his arm, forcing him to stand. If he didn’t want a broken wrist, he had no choice but to comply. Seeing the pain on his face, you kicked him hard, sending him stumbling into the hallway. He landed heavily in front of someone just rounding the corner.

You didn’t have to kill him. Letting someone witness his humiliation would suffice—the rumors would do the rest. That evening, your victory was clear.

He crashed against the opposite wall in the hallway. You heard a faint crack before he slid down, leaving a small, bloody smear. The idiot had broken his nose. Not the smartest of his brood. Moments later, a shocked gasp reached your ears, followed by laughter. You stepped into the hallway, feeling the need to put on a show so they’d understand it wasn’t worth messing with you.

You approached him and nudged him with your boot. He groaned faintly, clutching his face. In front of you stood two people, but you pretended not to notice them. It looked like one of the muscleheads had found company for the night. The woman covered her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

"Next time, I’ll break more than your nose," you said, trying to steady your voice. Only then did you acknowledge the startled duo. "What are you staring at?"

The woman tugged at the man’s arm, trying to pull him away from the scene. That was enough. By the end of the evening, the rumor would spread that someone as frail as you had taken down someone twice your size. You wondered what Sevika would think about it.

You slammed the door behind you. All the energy drained out of you. Your hands were trembling. You were terrified for your life. It seemed adrenaline alone had kept the fear from creeping into your voice. Leaning against the door, you slid down to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. You touched your lips gently, feeling the sting of the still-bleeding cut. You knew it would be a while before anyone dared challenge you again. What puzzled you more were your reactions. Everything seemed to happen without conscious thought. You responded to sound alone, as if your body had suddenly grown a safety sensor. Adrenaline or shimmer? You’d reacted similarly when Sevika had thrown a knife. It was all strange, unsettling, and spontaneous. It was useful in a fight but too unpredictable to rely on. Besides, it only seemed to activate when an attack came unexpectedly.

As if you didn’t have enough problems already.

***

The next day, you learned through the grapevine that Silco had returned to his duties. Sara woke you early, relaying that you were to report to him. You wanted to roll over and sleep, but Sara was more afraid of Silco than anyone else. Not wanting to stress her further, you dragged your half-asleep body out of bed.

At least you still recognized the person in the mirror. The cut on your lip gave your mouth a strange, perpetually scornful look. It hadn’t fully closed, which was odd—shimmer usually sped up healing, but not this time.

Sara might fear him, but you didn’t. If he had something for you, he’d have to wait until you were capable of thinking. And that couldn’t happen on an empty stomach. Snatching a still-warm meat bun from a tray, you knew Sara would have a fit if she saw you. It had been two hours since she’d delivered the message.

As expected, the rumor had spread overnight. Conversations quieted slightly at your approach. You heard increasingly absurd versions of the story passing from person to person. Someone even claimed you’d attacked the guy. Whatever—they could make up stories as long as they left you alone. You didn’t see the nose-broken assailant anywhere, so he was probably hiding to avoid questions. In a few days, you’d likely hear that he’d beaten you and that a broken nose was a small price for such a triumph.

You nibbled on the bun as you walked to The Last Drop. Amusingly, it was the first time in a while you didn’t feel anything at the thought of seeing Silco. Well, maybe a small hope that things would finally move forward. It was absurd for them to see you as a threat. Sure, you could handle yourself to an extent, but in a one-on-one fight, you’d lose miserably. Sheer luck had allowed you to turn the situation to your advantage—or maybe shimmer.

It wasn’t even nine when you walked through the nearly empty streets. The smog still hung thick in the air. The light that reached this level was dim, barely noticeable. That’s why lamps and other lights were always on. Some parts of Zaun looked as if they were perpetually shrouded in night. You were heading to one of those places, finishing the last bites of your breakfast.

You stopped dead in your tracks, realizing Sevika hadn’t dragged you out for training. Either you had the day off, or she’d decided she wouldn’t wake you every time. You hoped she was just busy with other duties. You should have been mad at her for skipping your sessions despite her earlier threats, but you had no intention of confronting her about it.

The sight of The Last Drop without its irritating lights reminded you of the pointless tests you’d undergone when you thought stopping Zarys would solve everything. As expected, the place was empty. The lights were off, which should have plunged everything into darkness, but of course, you could still see. Lost in thought, you headed upstairs automatically. Raising your hand, you knocked three times. Without waiting for permission, you entered. He was expecting you, right?

You closed the door behind you but didn’t move closer. You also didn’t say a word. You just waited. That seemed to surprise him; he looked up from his documents, his expression slightly unsure, as if he expected someone else to barge into his office.

"You're unusually quiet today."

You shrugged.

"I have nothing to say."

Okay, his bewilderment amused you a little. But regardless, you had no intention of getting drawn into word games. His hand paused mid-writing. He flinched slightly but quickly recovered.

"I see Sevika hasn’t gone easy on you."

"What, did she come to brag?" you snapped before you could bite your tongue.

Silco lifted his head and pointed a pen at you.

“No, it’s written all over your face.”

You raised a hand to your split lip. You had forgotten about it.

“It wasn’t her. Some guy tried to break into my room, so I showed him it wasn’t worth messing with me.”

He suppressed a strange smile and straightened up, turning his attention fully to you.

“I take it that’s a battle wound, and he ended up worse off?”

“If you kept a better eye on your people, I wouldn’t have to break their noses and set them straight.”

Damn, it was hard not to get drawn into a conversation with him. It felt natural, like breathing fresh air after weeks spent at the bottom of Zaun. But you couldn’t stop yourself from snapping back. Not when he tried to mock you. You could’ve lost your life the day before; it wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

“One of my people attacked you?”

“Am I not speaking clearly? Some idiot thought he was hunting for his supposed promotion. Maybe he’s infatuated with Sevika, who knows.”

Sometimes you saw a similar look on Leon’s face when one of the customers started acting out. Something like confidence mixed with determination. Dangerous. Still fascinating.

“I want you to get back to tracking down leads.”

You didn’t respond. You simply nodded. He pressed his lips together, slightly distracted, as if he’d expected the usual barrage of questions from you. In a way, it was satisfying to throw him off balance by saying nothing. He didn’t anticipate you would let him speak uninterrupted. He looked as though he’d lost his train of thought. Adjusting the scarf around his neck, he returned his attention to the documents.

“Any questions?”

“When do I start?”

It seemed like he sighed, annoyed, but you might have misheard. That would be a first, given your heightened hearing.

“Whenever. I know you’ve just had a dose.”

You wanted to ask where he had disappeared to. You wanted to ask if something else influenced your argument. You wanted to ask why he insisted on you coming to him when he could easily have Sevika deliver the vials. He trusted her, didn’t he?

But none of those questions made it to your lips.

“May I leave?”

He stiffened, gripping the pen a little too tightly. You heard a faint crack. You should have been pleased that, despite his efforts, you hadn’t let him draw you into a conversation. Instead, there was a slight pang of guilt, as though you’d spoken out of turn. He didn’t look at you again. He just waved his hand dismissively.

You left the room with relief, feeling a strange exhaustion clouding your mind. This behavior toward him was something new. Worse, treating him coldly made you feel bad. It was wrong, inappropriate. After everything he’d done, you should still be angry. Maybe Sevika’s words were affecting you too much, and against your better judgment, you wanted to justify him. Deep down, you didn’t fully believe Silco could deliberately hurt you.

Maybe it was time to open your eyes.

***

You could’ve asked a few questions.

Leaning against one of the lampposts, you watched the bridge, thinking about the best way to return to the upper city. Even if the patrols had stopped searching every corner of Zaun for you, they might still keep an eye on anyone entering the city. You doubted they were conducting full searches of people or vehicles, but caution was never a bad idea. Covering your face would raise suspicion. You could avert your gaze or pull up a hood, but those actions screamed deceit. Walking with your head held high didn’t seem like the right approach, either.

It had been too few days for another shipment—or at least you thought so. You’d familiarized yourself with shimmer production rules using data from one of Silco’s factories. The flowers grew quickly, but it took over a week for them to reach full potency. No more thefts from the factories had been reported. Zarys must’ve figured out the formula and reworked it with some of their own nasty additions. Either way, it was too early for another shipment, which meant sneaking in with smugglers wasn’t an option.

You could steal a boat and try your luck, but you didn’t know where to go. You’d had sacks over your head last time. You knew the beach was somewhere east of the city. You could wander blindly, but that didn’t make sense. Your memory didn’t fail you—the beach was cut off from the rest of the area by water. Dirty, polluted water.

On the other hand, you weren’t sure if you’d find your way back to the underground passage. Wandering aimlessly could lead you straight into another patrol, and if they remembered you, no amount of money Silco offered would work this time. Luck wouldn’t be on your side twice. It was a stalemate. You couldn’t get there from above or below. Unless you planned to lock yourself in a barrel and wait for them to take you, you were out of ideas.

You stayed put, straining your mind and hoping inspiration would strike. Returning to Silco or Sevika for help getting into the city was humiliating. If only you knew someone who could handle business in the upper city. Someone the guards wouldn’t stop, either out of fear or because they carried strong credentials. Someone who…

You bolted.

It wasn’t far. You knew the way like the back of your hand. The shimmer still coursing through your veins helped you arrive without losing your breath. You pushed the door open with a bang. The painting above it swayed precariously. Two men sitting at a table turned to you, startled, their heads moving in unison.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

Leon placed two mugs filled with something brown on the bar, wiped his hands on his apron, and gestured for you to sit in front of him.

“Tell me you still have that client in Piltover.”

You took a seat and leaned toward him.

“Ollie?” he mused, scratching the back of his head. “Well, he hasn’t ordered anything in a while.”

You drummed your fingers impatiently on the wooden bar.

“You need to get me into the city.”

“Why? Can’t you just walk in?”

You glanced discreetly over your shoulder. The two customers were eavesdropping. You leaned even closer, practically laying on the counter.

“The guards might still remember my face. I need to get in today, and with you, they won’t dare interfere.”

Leon straightened up, as if proud that he could still command respect. You smiled sweetly. He blushed slightly at the sight. You knew he couldn’t say no to you.

“Just this once,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “I won’t ask why, because I can tell it’s about someone up high. I don’t need to know, don’t even tell me. The less I know, the better I sleep. When do you need to go?”

“Anytime.”

He nodded and disappeared into the back room. He returned a few minutes later with a large bag full of bottles that clinked pleasantly with every step.

He nodded toward the two men, and without a word of protest, they gathered their things and left faster than you could blink. Impressive. You hadn’t realized that Leon commanded such respect among people.

He locked the establishment, and you both exited through the back. You had to jog occasionally to keep up with him—his strides were far too long. You remembered that he also worked for Silco, but it had never crossed your mind to ask what exactly he did.

"Leon? How do you even know him?"

"Silco?" he asked quietly, glancing at you. "Know is maybe too strong a word. I was recruited a few years ago. I’m not anyone particularly important. I usually scout out gems like you. See? I’ve got a good eye."

"Weren’t you a smuggler?"

"Unofficially. Sometimes things end up mixed with the bottles, but it’s been a long time since anyone left me a message. They still pay me, so I don’t complain."

Leon was someone who hid much more than he revealed. Before working for Silco, you used to see him almost daily, and it had never occurred to you that he might have his own secrets.

As you approached the bridge, you wondered if you could trust him a little more.

"How well do you know the upper city?"

"Not very well. Why?" He stopped so you could catch up. Reading something on your face, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Oh no, don’t drag me into your business. I told you, I don’t want to know."

"I just want to ask something," you reassured him. "Do you know where the entrances to the underground are?"

"Entrances? Sweetheart, they’re everywhere."

Oh, damn. That complicated things. You didn’t press him further. Walking behind him in silence, you mulled over the implications. If you could enter the tunnels from nearly anywhere, there was no point in dragging him along. The problem was, you didn’t know how large the tunnels were. If you went down without a map or directions, you might get lost and never come out.

Sure enough, as you’d suspected, the guards turned away at the sight of the towering, almost two-meter man, not daring to intervene. Shielded in his shadow, you slipped into the city like you owned the place.

The architecture should have impressed you, but you’d grown so accustomed to Zaun’s shadows that the white buildings of Piltover seemed glaring. The only pleasant thing was the air—strangely sweet, as if perfumed.

Once you passed the checkpoint, you both went your separate ways. You nodded at him in farewell, intending to thank him later—if you made it through your mission unscathed. You hadn’t shed any blood yet today, but the day was still young.

You had a plan, as always—risky, of course. You needed to find that entrance. Someone in Piltover had to know. Unfortunately, your appearance immediately betrayed that you came from the lower city. There was a subtle difference in the fabrics of clothing. You were always dressed in dark colors, so you could disappear into the shadows. The people of the upper city, however, seemed to favor white. You stood out like a blotch on pristine canvas. Was this how they saw Zaun?

There had to be someone familiar with the layout of the tunnels under the city. A random passerby probably wouldn’t know, so you needed someone educated or with access to the right books.

Keeping close to the walls, you walked slowly, trying not to appear nervous. Still, you felt the weight of every gaze on you. You couldn’t blame them. Hopefully, you’d find the entrance before someone decided your presence was unwelcome.

You could have wandered for hours, searching aimlessly, but you dared to approach a street vendor and ask for directions. At first, he seemed ready to run, but he hesitated and reluctantly directed you further.

You were looking for a library or a bookstore. Places like that always had books about the city’s history. You were searching for one specific entrance—it shouldn’t be too hard.

Pushing open the door to a small shop, a bell tinkled softly overhead. Inside, it smelled of dust and paper—a surprisingly pleasant scent. The walls were painted a deep green, complementing the dark wood of the shelves. Books had never interested you, but you respected the knowledge they held.

Delicate beads clicked softly as an elderly woman emerged from an adjoining room. She leaned on a well-worn cane as she approached you.

"Can I help you, dear?"

Startled by her kind tone, you froze momentarily.

"Uh… I’m looking for information about the Piltover underground. A specific location. Do you have anything like that in your collection?"

She tutted briefly and shook her head. Well, one lead down, on to the next.

"Well, thank you anyway," you said, turning to leave.

But she caught your hand.

"I might not have a book for it, but I’ve got a memory," she said, tapping her temple. "What are you looking for, sweetheart?"

"A reliable entrance to the underground," you explained. "Specifically one near the largest reservoir, where other tunnels converge. For… academic purposes, you understand?"

The old woman seemed to have poor eyesight, as she believed you without question. Or maybe she simply didn’t care how you looked.

"Sweetheart, there are six such places in the city. You’ll have to be more specific."

"Near the beach, on the eastern side of the city. A straightforward tunnel leading to the surface."

"Ah, now you’re talking sense," she chuckled raspily, turning to rummage through something. "You mean the eastern aqueduct, bringing water to the city’s northern parts. What sort of work is this?"

"Um… economic analysis, quarterly water consumption, that kind of thing…"

Gods, you were terrible at lying. Your voice faltered with each word as you wondered how she could possibly believe you.

She tutted again, pulling out a sheet of paper. Folding it in half, she handed it to you.

"Of course, of course. Off you go now—don’t keep your work waiting."

She waved you off and began shuffling slowly toward the back room. The encounter had been unexpectedly peculiar. An interesting woman, to say the least.

You glanced at the paper—it was a map of how to reach the appropriate entrance. Lifting your head to thank her, you were startled to find her standing upright behind the counter.

"How is it now?"

"In the tunnels?" you asked, puzzled.

"In Zaun, sweetheart. My home."

Oh, damn. That’s why she hadn’t reacted to your appearance or behavior. She hid it well, playing the part of a frail old shopkeeper. But what was she doing in Piltover, working as a vendor?

"Different," you replied briefly, not knowing what else to say.

"I hear rumors about what’s happening there. I have a good life here, but sometimes I miss home. Off you go now, my dear."

"Thank you," you said slowly, still in shock as you walked toward the door.

Something was nagging at you. Something didn’t fit. Something whispered a ridiculous curiosity in your ear. You placed your hand on the doorknob and hesitated. But it wouldn’t let you go.

"Did you, by any chance, run a library back in Zaun?"

"Indeed, my love."

***

The entrance to the underground was far from the bookshop. Gods, but she had surprised you. What were the odds of this? Was it luck again, or were you being guided by some unseen hand? Either way, you knew there was one thing you wanted to do before the possibility of death. One act that would define your worth.

The gate near the stairs was open, just as Zarys had left it. Apparently, they weren’t overly concerned about potential break-ins. Then again, who would be reckless enough to tamper with such a volatile force? You nudged the gate open and slipped inside before anyone could notice. Things should get easier now. You had memorized the turns while shadowing Zarys. All you had to do was reverse their order and hope the noise would lead you further.

You felt proud that not only had you found a relatively safe path into the city, but you had also discovered an entrance to the tunnels. There was nothing wrong with seeking help, but acting on your own made you feel strong. Not the kind of strength shimmer gave you—this was real strength. Since when were you so driven by such honorable emotions?

Following the path you'd stored in your memory, you quickly arrived at the fissure leading to the reservoir below. Zarys had come from the left, so that’s where you had to start. True, Silco had mentioned tracking the goods, but what were you supposed to watch when the smugglers hadn’t shown up yet? You didn’t know, but you felt that Zarys was the key for now.

You relied on all your senses to guide you, trying to locate anything significant. On the back of the map the old woman had given you, you sketched a crude diagram of the tunnels. You explored every branch you could find, but they all looked the same. And they all stank the same. Thank goodness the mutation hadn’t touched your sense of smell; otherwise, the unrelenting stench of rot and sludge would’ve driven you insane.

You wandered through the tunnels for hours, growing increasingly desperate. Going back empty-handed wasn’t an option. You were prepared to spend days down here if you had to, but you needed to find something—if only for yourself. Zarys had indirectly sentenced you to a painful death. If you could thwart his plans, you’d gladly do it for the sake of revenge.

But the tunnels were nothing but dead ends.

Returning to your starting point, you perched on a patch of dry stone. You shone your flashlight around, making sure you hadn’t missed a single branch. You prided yourself on being meticulous, and the fact that you’d come up empty enraged you. Zarys couldn’t have just materialized out of thin air.

"This makes no sense," you groaned, closing your eyes.

The noise was maddening, but there was nothing you could do about it. It was arrhythmic, interrupted by occasional moments of delicate silence, when only the faint trickle of water could be heard. And in one such pause, a new sound reached you. Muffled, but distinct—it sounded like two voices overlapping. Startled, you flinched and hit your head, cursing loudly. You opened your eyes and searched for the source. You were too far down to hear people on the surface. Could it be smugglers? No, the sound came from somewhere else.

It didn’t matter how crazy it seemed; better this than nothing.

Pressing one hand against the wall, you moved toward the voices, eyes closed, hoping to reach their source before they faded. They led you to a tunnel ending in a vertical wall. You really were losing your mind. The noise was driving you to madness.

Pulling out your flashlight, you began searching. Just because something wasn’t visible didn’t mean it wasn’t there. You focused on details that wouldn’t normally draw attention. It could be a hidden mechanism behind a loose brick or a concealed lever in a crack. Carefully, you inspected every inch of the wall, growing more irritated with each passing second.

"I'm definitely losing it—just what I needed," you muttered to yourself but didn’t stop searching.

Your hands were dry and raw from probing every crevice, hoping to find something. Slowly, you edged along the wall. Suddenly, you tripped over a protruding plate, twisting your wrist painfully. The voices became slightly louder and clearer. Frantically, you began feeling around. The plate was heavy, but you managed to shift it slightly. A muted light spilled out from below. You couldn’t see them yet, but you could hear them.

“…eight, then twelve the next time, and after that…”

"All right, all right, I’ll read the data later."

"But it’s important! You need this to plan the relocation!"

Two women. That’s all you could discern about the speakers.

"The relocation has already been planned without your calculations."

"Then adjust it! My findings suggest it would be more efficient a week later. It’ll reduce the risk that—"

"Enough, you’re irritating me. Just tell me where Zarys is."

You strained your ears.

"He left just now to meet with the boss. He should be halfway to the lower city by now."

Your heart sank. Too much information at once. You’d think about the relocation later. The voices started fading, and waiting for more risked missing Zarys. You bolted, determined to catch him before he reached Zaun. You had a chance to discover who was behind all this. Your speed would determine the future of this reconnaissance mission. The bridges were too far apart to watch both simultaneously. You gambled that Zarys would take the closer one and head toward his real objective afterward.

The question was, could you beat him there?

Chapter Text

You wonder if this is how Silco felt.

You had always heard that bleeding out was painful. But all you felt was anger—anger at how stupidly you let yourself get caught up in that fight. You could have left before anything happened, but no, you stayed until the end, hoping you might hear something useful.

And you did. The disgusting sound of flesh being torn open.

The anger kept the adrenaline pumping, pushing you forward. Funny—in another situation, your actions might have been called dedication. No, you had to reach the Last Drop before the information died with you. The worst part was that you hadn't even learned anything particularly significant during that observation. If you had returned to Silco directly after hearing about the shipment, none of this would have happened.

It was vengeance driving you forward, even though you had no real chance of achieving it.

You staggered, leaning your full weight against a wall as dizziness overtook you. Squinting, you tried to focus your vision but couldn’t tell where you were. Your mind was too dull to feel panic. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear a murmur of voices, maybe even some music. You couldn’t gauge how far you were from your destination.

Two breaths later, you pushed yourself off the wall and tried to keep moving. The wound wouldn’t stop bleeding because you wouldn’t stop moving. Your hand brushed your thigh, fingers meeting the wet, now-cold blood. Its metallic smell made you nauseous, but you couldn’t stop. The wound wasn’t fatal, but if you stayed on the street much longer, you risked bleeding out or getting an infection. No one would help; they’d sooner rob you of your last coin.

Step by step.

Small steps, focusing on your breath, and you could reach the Last Drop before you passed out. A part of you was curious about Silco’s reaction to your condition. After all, his precious investment was at risk. Still, you didn’t expect much emotion from him.

Ahead, the brighter lights of better-lit streets came into view. You were so close now, but your vision was growing dim. You should have heard the cacophony of voices, but the rushing sound of blood drowned it out. That was the only thing reminding you your heart was still beating. Your leg was going numb, and the chill in the air deepened. In Zaun, strange sights weren’t uncommon—one more injured person wouldn’t faze anyone. But navigating through the crowd became harder; you were a vulnerable target for shoves and jostles.

You wanted to hold onto your anger at everyone and everything, but your mind was emptying, leaving only exhaustion. The temptation to sit down, even for a moment, was overwhelming. It would be so easy…

You have to stop him.

The words hit you like a slap, ringing in your ears. After everything, he had the audacity to ask for help. Anger flared again, clearing your vision just a little. A familiar logo loomed ahead. So close. You stumbled against a passerby, who glared at you like they’d stepped in something foul. You didn’t blame them; you probably looked worse. Raising your hands in a gesture of peace, you backed off. The stranger flipped you off and muttered something you couldn’t make out.

The bouncer standing at the entrance straightened, bracing for trouble. He’d probably seen plenty of drunks trying to force their way in. With the last of your strength, you pulled down your hood. He recognized you. His eyes widened in alarm as he reached out to catch you, but you waved him off. You weren’t dying—just bleeding a little too much.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I need… to see him… information,” you managed to get out before a stabbing pain shot through your leg. Someone bumped into you, driving the metal buckle of their belt straight into your wound.

You howled in pain, unable to keep your balance. A hand pressed against your back, steadying you.

The bouncer didn’t ask more questions. He opened the door, letting the deafening music spill out into the street. You had no idea what time it was. You hoped the patrons were too drunk to notice how unsteady you were.

You thought you saw Sevika’s face in the crowd, but you could have been mistaken. In this state, nothing was certain anymore. You’d forgotten about the flight of stairs still ahead. But you were too close to give up now. No one stopped you as you began to clumsily climb. With every step, you felt your makeshift bandage slipping lower, unable to hold against the blood loss. You were sure you were leaving a trail behind you. Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had to clean your blood off the floor.

The climb felt endless. You should have passed out twice on those stairs, but you stubbornly pressed on, trying to convince yourself that the searing pain wasn’t so bad. You felt pathetic—not just because you had almost gotten yourself killed again, but mostly because, like a loyal dog, you were dragging yourself back to Silco to confess everything.

You knew no one else should hear about Zarys’s meeting with his boss. Sevika could have been anywhere, dealing with other matters. That Silco was in his office was practically a given—unless he’d decided to disappear again.

The closer you got, the harder it was to make your legs move. You grabbed the handle, glancing at your bloodied hand. You wondered how many marks you’d left behind. Without knocking, you stepped inside, leaving the door open behind you.

“Not now. I’m busy,” he said without looking.

Standing with his back to the door, he stared at something through the massive window. You slid against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. One leg couldn’t hold your weight anymore. The wound burned like fire—stitches wouldn’t be enough this time.

“Don’t mind me,” you muttered weakly. “I’ll just sit here.”

At the sound of your voice, he froze for a split second and glanced over his shoulder. You had expected many things—annoyance at ruining an expensive carpet or indifference. But when he realized what had happened, he rushed to you without hesitation. Funny—just a few days ago, that gesture might have seemed kind, caring.

“I have to… I have…” you tried to tell him everything, but even breathing was a struggle, let alone speaking.

Suddenly, the door swung open wider. You recognized the edge of Sevika’s cape at your eye level.

“What the hell happened?!”

You smiled faintly, wincing as you tried to get up. Every movement sent another wave of pain through your body, forcing a loud groan from your lips.

“Don’t move,” Silco said, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you still.

“I’ll get someone,” Sevika said, stepping forward before Silco stopped her too.

“There’s no time,” he said, rolling up his sleeves despite your weak attempts to protest. “We need to treat this now.”

Sevika, without waiting for permission, leaned over and slid one hand under your knees and the other behind your back. Things were happening that you couldn’t comprehend. Whatever they were planning, you had no power to stop them. You watched as Silco rummaged through a cabinet. Sevika lifted you as if you weighed nothing. You lay stiffly in her arms. It only lasted a few seconds before she placed you on the couch.

You might have been mistaken, but she seemed worried. Maybe. All the edges were blurring more and more. You felt your head loll to the side.  

“Don't you dare fall asleep!” Sevika shouted.  

Something clinked beside you, like metal against metal.  

“You have to drink this,” you heard his voice.  

A hand pressed something glass to your lips. The scent alone made you flinch so hard that more blood spilled.  

“No,” you rasped. “I can’t.”  

“It’s just shimmer. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”  

Shimmer. The word meant something to you. Something you should remember, but a thick fog was descending, blocking out rational thought.  

“Fuck it,” Sevika muttered and forced your mouth open, pouring the drug in.  

The moment it touched your tongue, your receptors reacted instantly. You began coughing and choking. Every spasm sent waves of pain rippling through your body. Colors exploded behind your eyelids, but your hearing was already sharper. You wanted to curse, but your tongue felt heavy, and your dry throat refused to form words.  

“This is going to hurt.”  

You opened your eyes to see Silco cutting your pants around the wound and pouring something foul-smelling on it. There was no point in pretending—it hurt. You screamed, hoping the music downstairs would drown it out.  

“Just let me get up…” you began to threaten, but Sevika quickly pinned you in place.  

“Stay still. This next part will be the worst.”  

You should have known what was coming. You turned your head to ask what they were planning when you felt the first stitch. You’d done this before, back when Silco was injured. But when it came to your own body, it felt as if you could hear every sound inside yourself. The sensation of the thread sliding through your skin wasn’t overly painful, but it was nauseating.  

You clenched your hands on the couch fabric and threw your head back. The shimmer was working. You could feel hunger, teased by the drug, but it wasn’t strong enough to subdue the darkness. Whatever was happening was beyond your control. Sevika held your shoulders to keep you from thrashing. You could sense Silco beside you but refused to look at him. The delicate brushes of his fingers on your exposed skin sent shivers and pain coursing through your irritated nerves.  

It felt like an eternity.  

The wound on your thigh ran vertically from the middle to your knee. You knew enough about anatomy to understand no major artery had been hit, but still, without proper care, the injury could be fatal.  

The room was filled with nothing but the nauseating squeak of the thread sliding through your skin. You fought the urge to bolt. They had reacted quickly and decisively, but in your eyes, they were nothing short of barbarians. You probably swore a lot during the process, but neither of them seemed to care.  

The distinctive click of scissors and the release of pressure on your shoulders were clear signs that the ordeal was over. You sucked in air through gritted teeth and lifted your head. Sevika stepped back and stood near the door, ensuring no one entered. You glanced down at your leg. The reddened skin—from blood and stitching—looked awful. The stitches stretched endlessly; you counted about ten.  

“Well, these pants are ruined,” you muttered.  

Sevika let out a short laugh but quickly composed herself. Silco stepped away as fast as he could. You dared to look at him. His face was tight, as if he were trying to suppress anger. No, it wasn’t anger—something else was trying to surface, but he kept his emotions in check. He was wiping his hands on a white towel, avoiding your gaze. You suddenly felt awkward.  

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For helping.”  

The air grew heavy with awkwardness. Instinctively, you tried to sit up straighter to relieve your back. A quiet hiss escaped your lips as you realized it was a mistake. Silco flinched, as if he wanted to move, but he continued meticulously wiping his hands instead.  

“I’ll arrange a spot in the hospital,” Sevika said. She seemed to sense the tension and disappeared as quickly as possible. Left alone with him, the awkwardness was replaced by mild unease. You had come here with information and caused them trouble. It was impressive how swiftly he had acted, but the lack of emotion on his face unnerved you more than any outburst of anger.  

You felt an overwhelming urge to explain yourself, but no words seemed adequate.  

“What happened?” he asked quietly.  

The question jolted you from your thoughts. You turned your gaze to his face, but he had already turned away. He was putting the tools back in the cabinet, not looking at you. Should you be concerned that he kept a suture kit in his office?  

“I was following Zarys.”  

Standing, he gripped the edge of the cabinet tightly.  

“You were supposed to observe the shipment.”  

He was angry. Or at least irritated. Following orders wasn’t exactly your strong suit.  

“I did. I found a place where they might be storing the barrels, but the entry point wasn’t secure. I overheard a conversation suggesting they plan to move the supplies elsewhere.”  

You were proud of this information. Even if it wasn’t much, you had discovered the storage site. The problem was, you didn’t know how quickly you’d be able to get back on your feet. By then, the shimmer and its trail might vanish.  

“What else?”  

You wanted to snap at him to pay attention and focus on the conversation instead of making you talk to his back.  

“Not much. Before I could hear more, they moved too far away, and even my hearing wasn’t enough.”  

“They?”  

“Two women. Judging by their tone, I’d guess the other isn’t high in the hierarchy.”  

As you recounted your findings, it was easy to forget how much you had disliked him earlier. Now, perhaps because of the blood loss, you didn’t much care how he reacted. It was certainly easier to joke.  

Silco finally turned around, as if the time he needed to compose his thoughts had run out before he managed to do so. You weren’t entirely sure what you saw in him, but it wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t irritation either—more like resignation to the fact that you were constantly breaking orders and putting your life at risk.  

No, you were endangering his investment. You couldn’t help but wince at the thought. He frowned slightly at your reaction but didn’t comment. He grabbed the chair by his desk and pulled it closer to you, sitting down hunched over. He rested his elbows on his knees and covered his mouth with clasped hands. You’d never seen him like this before. There was something unsettling about watching him wrestle with his thoughts.  

“How did this happen?” he finally asked.  

You studied his face for a moment, gauging how much you could say before deciding on complete honesty.  

“I heard them talking about Zarys. He was supposed to meet with his boss in the undercity. You understand I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. I found them on the west side of the city in some haunted-looking place—probably an abandoned factory…”  

“How? How did you know where to go?”  
 
You narrowed your eyes at the question. Was there a deeper meaning behind it?  

“Well, do you believe in instinct? Or maybe just dumb luck? Either way, I wandered through the streets, recalling places that hadn’t been claimed by one gang or another yet. I guess I only found them thanks to my hearing.”  

Images played in your mind like a fragmented reel. Until the very last moment, you doubted you’d find them. Panic had grown with every second wasted searching the wrong district. You wanted to believe you’d somehow heard faint whispers carried by the wind, but the truth was you knew exactly where to go—like something was guiding you. It was unsettling, terrifying even, but you felt shimmer had something to do with it.  

“Zarys met his boss in an abandoned factory. It reeked of oil—I don’t think they were hiding anything particularly significant there,” you paused, waiting for Silco’s reaction, but he stared at you without blinking. You shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. “Well, uh… I guess I got there too late to learn much about their plans. But I do know this—whoever that man is, he’s answering to someone from Zaun.”  

“Why do you think that?” he asked softly.  

Gods, something was very wrong. His voice, his stare… You had no idea where this conversation was headed, but it couldn’t end well—not with the way he was looking at you.  

“I barely made it inside before their meeting was interrupted by a group of men. I couldn’t tell who they were working for—they had tattoos on their arms and close-cropped hair. They started making threats. From what I understood, this meeting wasn’t sanctioned by anyone. One of them was holding what looked like a metal rod, waving it around and yelling that every meeting in Zaun had to be authorized by their boss. Whatever’s happening, it’s getting harder to make sense of it.”  

“Where exactly was this?”  

You closed your eyes, trying to retrace your steps, but the memories blurred together.  

“I remember it was somewhere west. There was a broken sign above the entrance, something with a key…”  

“Sevika will check it out,” he replied, sitting up straight. You hoped the interrogation was over, but then he asked one more question: “How did you get hurt?”  

You felt your cheeks flush slightly. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help feeling foolish for how easily you’d let your guard down. You could still recall the sharp pain from the metal shard of a broken sign…  

“There was a shootout. Zarys’s boss must have thought he was above the threats because he pulled out a gun without saying a word. Instead of taking cover, the others charged right at them. Zarys tried to escape but tripped and grabbed a lever connected to a walkway I was on. I started sliding. I saw barrels of oil falling to the ground, spilling that foul sludge everywhere. I thought I could hold on, but…”  

You looked at your hands. They were scraped raw from gripping the rusted railing. Your eyes drifted to your backpack still by the door. You’d come so close…  

“You don’t have to explain,” Silco said, standing up and pushing the chair back into place. “Sevika should be here soon. She’ll help you get to a hospital.”  

Funny. The anger slid back into place, as if on cue. You found yourself surprised at your own disappointment, scoffing in irritation. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye but didn’t comment. You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying too much. You couldn’t even leave his office—the stitches in your leg pulled painfully, making the entire limb throb with a dull, relentless ache.  

So much for professionalism.  

“Really? You’re not even going to give me some self-righteous lecture about jeopardizing your precious investment?”  

That was a mistake. A huge mistake. But you couldn’t stop yourself. You’d risked your life again to uncover vital information, and he looked more annoyed about the blood on his couch than anything else.  

Your words seemed to strike a nerve. His hands curled into fists, and he closed his eyes. You didn’t think he’d lash out at you, but who could tell?  

“About that…”  

“I don’t want to hear any cheap excuses,” you interrupted, feeling your grip on your temper slipping. “You’ve made your point. I understand. I’ll try to be more competent next time.”  

Silco slammed his palms on the desk, leaning heavily against it. He stared out the window, his jaw clenched. You felt like it was only a matter of time before someone—probably you—said something they’d regret. Silco, of course, never seemed to regret anything.  

“That’s not how I meant it to sound,” he said quietly, almost calmly, though his posture betrayed no such calm.  

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you murmured, weary. “I’m sorry if I acted out of line earlier. I want to see this through to the end, and then we can each go our separate ways.”  

You leaned your head back against the cushion, feeling sleep creeping in faster than it should. Your dirty clothes clung to your skin, irritating you almost as much as his feigned tranquility. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him how deeply he’d hurt you, how much you’d trusted him—and how he’d thrown your fears in your face as ammunition.  

“Separate ways? Really? Is that what you want?”  

“What are you talking about?”  

He leaned against the desk, watching the door as if willing Sevika to burst in and save him from the conversation.  

“And then what? You’ll leave? Run away, like you’ve always wanted to?”  

You didn’t understand. Suddenly, he seemed almost upset—as though the idea of you quitting and leaving was absurd to him. But what else were you supposed to do? How could you live and work alongside him after everything that had happened? After everything that hadn’t happened but that you desperately wished had?  

“Leave, die… right now, it’s all the same,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly.  

“You can’t mean that.”  

"Starting to lose my patience. Just say what you want instead of trying to drag it out of me."

He began rubbing his hands together as if it had suddenly turned cold. You had never seen this gesture from him before. The calmness he'd guarded so carefully moments ago seemed to evaporate. Distressed.

"Have you forgotten something? Surely, I don't need to remind you that without the drug, you'll die."

Ah, back to this again, you thought. Despite your injuries, you sat up straighter. Well, this had to happen eventually.

"I'm reminded of it every single day. Every day, I think about when the hunger will hit so hard that I'll be forced to come here and beg you for help. I know exactly what's waiting for me if I stop taking it."

"And yet, you still want to leave."

"Can you stop pretending to be so composed? Let's call it what it is. I'll die, Silco. Whether I want to or not. At least I can do something for others before I go."

For a moment, he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes as if to banish exhaustion.

"You won't die. I won't allow it."

A bitter laugh escaped you.

"And what can you do? Take over production to keep feeding me that garbage? Turns out I have bigger ambitions than living in addiction forever."

You’d thought the time for conversations like this had passed. Silco hadn’t seemed inclined to share his thoughts with you for a while now. And yet, here he was, staring into the void as if searching for a solution to a problem with no answer. Or maybe... no, something was trying to break through the exhaustion. Something like...

Silco reached for a cigar and lit it unhurriedly. You were stuck waiting for Sevika anyway, so you might as well watch him for a while. Who were you kidding? He still affected you in the same way, no matter how hard you tried to suppress it. As usual, he tilted his head back to take a drag, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his neck.

"I want you to give it a rest for now. Until you're back on your feet."

"Did you even hear what I just said? They're planning a shipment. If you’ve got someone else to handle surveillance, maybe it’s time to send them, don’t you think?"

He leveled a stormy gaze at you. Smoke curled lazily between you, blurring his features slightly. But even through the haze, you could see guilt battling with pain. Gods, what a mix. It made you feel uncomfortably warm. You cleared your throat, startled by your own thoughts.

"Honestly, I shouldn't be surprised. You throw yourself recklessly into danger every chance you get. If life means so little to you, go ahead. Just don't come crying to me when something happens again."

"Then why the hell did you bother saving me today?" you snapped, thoroughly irritated. "Oh, right. I forgot. I'm just a valuable investment."

"You latch onto those words... If only you'd cling to life as tightly."

You had no answer to that. There was no answer. You could explain it to him endlessly, but someone who’d never stood at the edge of life and death couldn’t understand how hard it was to accept that every day might be your last.

"Silco..." you began, but just then, Sevika walked into the room.

"The hospital’s full..."

She trailed off, sensing the heavy atmosphere, thick enough to cut with a knife. Silco had already composed his expression. Gods, how you hated him for it at that moment.

"I’ll go back to the facility," you said, shifting slightly.

"You must be joking," she scoffed.

"I know how to care for stitches. The shimmer's working as it should, and I’m not bleeding. But if it makes you feel better, if I die, I promise not to haunt you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Silco set down his cigar and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You won't win this one," he said to Sevika before circling back to his desk to resume working.

Sevika looked at him, a little bewildered. She glanced at you, but you only shrugged.

***

"After him! We’ll catch him yet!"

Shouts echoed through the empty space. You could feel the faint heat from the fire raging below. It had only taken one bullet for the spilled oil to ignite. And you were dangling directly above it. Gripping the railing tightly, you tried not to fall, but your sweaty hands were hard to control. You hadn’t felt fear like this in a long time. Burning alive wasn’t exactly your top choice for ways to go.

The bridge groaned loudly in protest. Another chain snapped. You were getting closer to the ground. Glancing down, you saw a small, fire-free patch below, but it was far too small for a safe landing. Another chain broke. You let out an involuntary cry, startled by the speed at which you were descending toward the flames. You had a choice: fall into the fire or jump and hope to avoid the oil.

As always, someone else decided for you.

The railing snapped with a loud crack. Bits of rusted metal showered your face as you fell. Straight into the fire. Panicking, you searched for anything to grab onto. You thought you’d found something, but pain exploded in your leg. It was so sharp, you thought you might black out. Whatever it was had left a deep gash in your thigh.

You hit the ground with one arm so close to the flames that your jacket caught fire. You tried to smother it, but the wound in your leg hurt too much. This was it.

Suddenly, something foul-smelling was thrown over you. A hand grabbed your arm and dragged you away. You tried to shake off the canvas, but then you felt a heavy patting on your shoulder. The covering disappeared, and you saw a face that haunted your thoughts of revenge.

"I’ll help you, but you have to promise me something," Zarys said.

"You bastard!" you screamed, lunging at him with your hands.

He stepped back, visibly shaken.

"I know you have reasons. I can feel the shimmer in your blood."

"I’ll kill you!" you snarled, trying to reach him, but waves of pain shot through your body, leaving a burning emptiness in their wake.

"You're bleeding too much. Let me treat it."

Breathing heavily, you scanned the area for a weapon. Without waiting for your permission, Zarys approached and began examining your leg. The pain was too intense to keep resisting.

"What do you want for this?" you asked. "Say it now, before you start. I won’t owe you."

Zarys seemed to have an entire medical kit with him. Whatever he had planned when he left the upper city, he’d been prepared for a fight. Or maybe he always carried it. Either way, this wasn’t something to dwell on while you were bleeding out in the middle of a burning warehouse. The oil was starting to burn out, smoldering faintly on the surface.

"Stop him. You have to stop him before he destroys the city."

You grabbed his hand.

"Who are you talking about?"  

He started bandaging your leg, his face visibly filled with fear.  

"I don't know. He never revealed who he was. Every time I see him, he's wearing a hood and some kind of mask. But whoever he is, he's far too dangerous."  

His hands were practiced, and he finished the bandage before you even registered it.  

"That would mean we have a common enemy," you rasped. "Why should I trust you? How do I know you're telling the truth?"  

He pressed his lips together, acknowledging the validity of your skepticism. He reached into his bag and pulled out something that was all too familiar. Just the sight of it made your stomach clench. You tried to move back, but your leg refused to cooperate.  

"Get that thing away from me," you spat through clenched teeth.  

He hesitated.  

"I don't want your trust. I want someone to stop him because I never had the courage to do it myself. Take this," he insisted, shoving the vial into your hand despite your protests.  

"You're a monster, you know that? Do you have any idea what this garbage does to people?"  

"What? What are you talking about?"  

"Don't play dumb."  

"I... I don't understand... Wait, this isn’t shimmer, is it? At least not the usual kind. Oh gods..."  

Something was happening. Something you couldn't quite grasp.  

"What the hell are you rambling about?"  

"I knew I smelled shimmer in your blood. I've been around it long enough to recognize that sickly sweet scent, but this... Listen, this drug was never tested on humans. Whatever's happening inside you shouldn't exist. I don’t know how it happened, but this was never meant for people!"  

"Don’t you dare act like a victim now. You should be burning in that fire for creating this variant."  

"Yes, yes. I made it. But we never released it onto the market! That’s not how this was supposed to work!" He clutched his head, rocking back and forth.  

"Hey, you! Pull yourself together! What's going on here?"  

He glanced at the vial in your hand.  

"What you're holding is a perfected version. Whatever you consumed must have been a prototype. Your blood reeks."  

You flinched. You should’ve been squeezing the life out of him right now, watching the light fade from his eyes—not having a chat.  

"You’re damn lucky I can’t move right now," you growled.  

Zarys looked around, panicking. He stood as if ready to flee, but he hesitated for a moment.  

"That thing in your hand... I gave it to you because I thought it would help you recover. But now I’m not sure how it will react. It might help you, i can't really tell. But it will definitely stabilize whatever is happening right now."  

"I don’t understand."  

"I can't stay any longer. He’ll come after me," he groaned, desperate but unable to leave. "That thing will change you. It might give you new abilities or cause mutations. I can’t predict it because I don’t know how it interacts with the prototype. Keep it. I have to go!" he shouted, bolting upright in a panic.  

You cursed loudly at him for a good several minutes after he disappeared before the anger gave you enough strength to stand. You wanted to hurl the vial into the fire, but if it held even a sliver of a chance for freedom, you couldn't ignore it.  

You had no reason to trust him. He seemed genuinely shaken when he realized it was in your blood. Whatever guilt he felt wasn’t enough to erase his atrocities. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to destroy the vial. He could’ve been telling the truth—or just a brilliant liar.  

Either way, keeping it for now seemed like the rational choice. You’d figure out a way to analyze it later. For now, the priority was getting out of this place.  

Chapter Text

Ultimately, you chose not to be honest.

It was easy to justify it by saying it wasn’t about work, but about you—but, damn, it was tied to work in every single way. If this came to light, no explanations or excuses would save you. You felt trust would be necessary to move forward, but it was hard to trust him when his words didn’t match his actions. He was unpredictable. You were making trouble for both of you now. The fact that you hadn’t said anything immediately put you in a bad position. Because, in truth, you were doing everything to ensure they didn’t trust you the way you wanted.

But could you really be blamed?

Well, maybe you could, but doubt is part of every human’s life. You didn’t know what Silco would do if you handed him the vial. You weren’t a mindless machine spilling everything to him. He probably expected that, but it would mean giving him complete control over you—not just over your actions, but also your plans. Yet, this was mostly about you. It was up to you to decide what to do with the gift.

When you returned to your quarters—or rather, when Sevika dropped you there like a sack of potatoes—the first thing that came to mind was to hide the drug somewhere. Sitting on the bed with your injured leg stretched out, you felt your skin numbed where the stitches held it together. The shimmer they had given you didn’t just stop the bleeding; it also sped up your healing a little. Not as much as the version you were forced to take, but enough to let you take care of yourself. Really, aside from thinking, you had nothing else to do. You felt energy trying to burst free inside you, but for now, you couldn’t leave—not to mention returning to training—at least as long as Sevika was still willing to help.

You kept the vial close, pondering what to do with it. What you had said in the factory was true. You had no reason to trust Zarys’s words. That encounter itself was unusual. You replayed that part of the meeting in your mind over and over, trying to understand what had happened.

Zarys had met with his boss in the abandoned factory. You hadn’t heard their conversation, as it had been interrupted by attackers. This meant that whoever his boss was dealing with, it was a secret, even from his partner in Zaun. You wondered if Zarys had even survived the pursuit. The fact that Zarys stayed behind to help you was ambiguous at best. Either he was working for his boss under duress and genuinely wanted to help you, or they knew they might be followed, and Zarys was an incredibly good actor.

Of course, you hadn’t let slip anything about who you worked for, so he had no evidence against you. What he gave you could just as easily kill you as lead them to Silco. There was a reason you operated in secrecy—so you wouldn’t spill everything at the first opportunity. If Zarys thought this gesture would worm its way into your head and upend your goals, he was gravely mistaken. You needed far more to trust him. And after all this, trust likely wasn’t possible under any conditions.

You held the vial in your hand, turning it slowly. The light of the rising sun filtered through the violet liquid, casting a faint glow on the bedspread. It could be a drug—or just tinted water. To find out, all you had to do was sniff it. The shimmer Silco produced smelled sweet, almost metallic. What you were forced to take shared the sweet scent, but there was something cloying about it. You couldn’t pinpoint it right away, but after so long, you could tell the difference. If this new substance smelled different, you might lean toward the theory that Zarys genuinely wanted to help, driven by guilt. But that would mean opening the vial.

You were two days away from needing another dose. A simmering irritation grew within you, building with each passing hour. If you opened the vial, you might not be able to resist drinking it. Just looking at it scattered your thoughts.

You slid it under the bed. Bending down made your leg pull painfully, sending a wave of discomfort through you. At this rate, you wouldn’t be on your feet for many days. Would Sevika have to play intermediary again? No matter how much they tried to make this easier, each day you went to Silco felt humiliating. You depended on him far more than you wanted to. You strained not to analyze his words, knowing it would spiral into hours of angry overthinking. Whatever he was trying to say—it could wait.

This injury had thrown your plans into disarray.

You knew the previous owner of the old library had left. You hadn’t thought she’d stay in Piltover. In fact, it was admirable that she managed to maintain a foothold in the upper city despite being from Zaun. Then again, as you considered it, the shop looked like no one had cleaned it in ages. She must have had few customers. Did the man on the street point out her shop because he knew who you were? Because he knew who she was? Could Piltover still be so divided? The so-called City of Progress—what a joke. Stuck in their own backward ways.

Regardless of his intentions, he had sparked an unusual chain of thoughts. For a long time, you had wondered if you could call yourself a good person. The answer was always no. It would be arrogant to think so. But until you met her, you hadn’t realized how much the weight of it bore down on you. You had stopped looking for good in the world when your mother left, abandoning you to a father who was never a good parent. If she could be so selfish, why couldn’t you? From that day on, you did everything on your own terms, but now it was starting to bother you.

It was as if standing one foot in the grave had made you want to do something worthwhile. Maybe you wouldn’t live to see your enemy defeated, but you could still do something else. This wasn’t an impulsive decision, so typical of you. No, you had thought about solving this problem almost every day since you received the deed, and now the solution presented itself. You knew it was the right thing to do.

You spent the night writing a letter explaining who you were and why you were making this gesture, hoping it would be received as intended. Initially, you planned to deliver it yourself, but in your current state, that seemed impossible. There weren’t many people you could trust enough to deliver the letter. You wrestled with your thoughts but ultimately decided you weren’t doing anything wrong.

As soon as the sun rose high enough to cast light in the building, you resolved to go downstairs. Despite protests, you were given an old pair of crutches to help you until you could walk unaided. You took them hesitantly, planting your feet on the ground. Your muscles resisted the effort, but with some assistance, you managed to stand.

You should have felt elated, but all you felt was stress, tightening your stomach. You managed to stand without the crutches. Stretching your arms out for balance, the world didn’t tilt. There was no one nearby to mock you if you fell, so with a bit of strain, you lifted your leg, taking a step. You were still standing. Damn it. You should have been thankful that old, reliable shimmer had helped, but deep down, you knew it was the mutation.

The thought made you sick. What else had this drug changed in you?

You needed to find Sara before she disappeared into her work.

Even if you could walk now, that didn’t mean you could make it to the bridge on your own. You weren’t foolish enough to push your body so soon after getting stitches. But going down a single floor? That was a different matter.

You didn’t want anyone knowing how weak you were. Especially after how you’d taken out that guy. If someone thought you were getting too cocky and decided to put you in your place, you couldn’t make it easier for them by flaunting how little you could move. 

You put on loose pants that covered the stitches and didn’t irritate the raw skin. It was an interesting experience. You moved slowly, but your balance wasn’t compromised. Each step pulled at the threads a little, but none of them broke. Your muscles didn’t tremble, and there was no bleeding. Enough reasons not to stay in bed waiting for salvation.

You found Sara downstairs, near the hallway leading to the shooting range. She was bantering with some guy. You quickly looked away, noticing in time that they were clearly flirting. You leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for them to part ways. You watched as people entered and left the building. Interesting—what was this place officially? Surely it wasn’t registered as a training center for criminals. No one was stupid enough to conduct unsanctioned inspections here, but every now and then, a self-righteous official with dreams of moral reform would show up. You wondered what happened to such people. Did they become food for the local fish?

"Sara!"

You stopped her as soon as she poked her head out of the corridor. She jumped, startled.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one day,” she whispered, clutching her chest.

“Sorry,” you suppressed a smile. “Listen, can I ask you for a favor?”

She looked at you with slight suspicion in her eyes.

“Depends on what it is.”

“I have a letter to deliver. Nothing dangerous, but it can’t wait. Unfortunately, I can’t leave here. Could you take it to a certain place?”

You handed her the envelope, trying not to let your face show too much anxiety. She took it gingerly, as if expecting a bomb inside.

“Are you sure it’s not dangerous?”

“You can be sure.”

She still hesitated for a moment, frowning, but didn’t refuse outright.

“Look, I know what’s really going on here. They pay me well, and I don’t ask questions. But if this has anything to do with your job, I don’t want to get involved.”

You gently but firmly nudged her hand, subtly encouraging her to take the letter.

“It’s more personal than professional. But I can’t deliver it myself.”

“Alright, what do I need to do?”

“I’ll write down an address. Give it to the owner and tell him it needs to go among the bottles. He’ll handle the rest.”

You had no idea how messages to Leon were usually delivered, nor if you were even allowed to do this. But he was the only person who could enter the upper city without being harassed or, more importantly, searched. Well, at least you could take comfort in the idea that you could play dumb if this backfired—or so you hoped.

“Fine, you convinced me. I’ll take care of it,” she said, tucking the letter into the large pocket of her dress. “Do you want something to eat? You look like a ghost.”

You didn’t protest. She wasn’t wrong, and the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen were too tempting to resist. Of course, she had no idea you were injured from tailing someone. Just like Leon, she didn’t want to be involved in anything shady.

You started asking her questions about the place. Pleased with the change of topic, she began to explain. She’d been hired as a kitchen assistant here. From the start, it had seemed odd to you that the facility was flooded with waves of people and no one asked questions. Sara, of course, knew why.

Silco had bought the place long ago, back when his influence in Zaun was expanding. Officially, it served as a shelter for the homeless. On paper, it painted Silco as someone trying to reduce homelessness in Zaun—entirely legal and unassailable. To avoid trouble around the Last Drop, he gave the goons a place where they could vent without causing problems on the streets. His little army had a spot where they could gather, blow off steam, and eat without blabbering about who they worked for. It seemed like a way to keep them in line, giving them a place to return to no matter the circumstances.

It could almost be seen as noble—if it weren’t Silco, of course. There was undoubtedly more to it. Or perhaps, more accurately, someone. Sevika was a regular visitor here. You doubted she lived here, but the fact that she was often around made people wait for hours just to catch her. Silco terrified them, and they were loyal to him because of the money. Sevika, however, was closer to them. They respected her for her skills and experience. She kept an eye on them, ensuring no one stepped out of line, and sometimes even rewarded those who reported insubordination. Smart and calculated.

Sara had figured all this out after two years of working here. Her family still believed she had a legitimate job. If they ever found out she was cooking for Silco’s people, they’d probably force her to quit to avoid trouble. But, as always, the money was too good to walk away from.

You had to admit her talent for observation and analysis was impressive. She was smart—smarter than you, given she refused to work directly for Silco. You’d been tempted by the money, and now you were paying the price for your greed. Maybe if you’d chosen a normal job, you wouldn’t be wondering which day would be your last.

But that would’ve been boring.

Indeed, aside from the addiction and Silco’s peculiar behavior, this job brought you some satisfaction. Most of the time, your motives were personal, but you couldn’t deny the thrill was somewhat addictive—and you wouldn’t give it up, even if your life didn’t depend on it.

The conversation with Sara gave you much to think about. You returned to your room with a few sweets to brighten your mood in case your thoughts became unbearable. Ever since you realized you might only have days left, you’d stopped planning further than a week ahead.

You’d once dreamed of leaving Zaun and escaping the endless war between the upper and lower city. But that had all vanished because of your addiction.

Now, suddenly, the solution to your problems lay under the bed, waiting for you to trust Zarys’s words. It was an incredibly tempting option. As you stared into the darkness under the bed, you could almost see the vial glowing purple, hypnotizing you more and more.

It had once been nothing but a source of torment for you—a tangible proof that human lives could be manipulated.

Zarys had said that what you’d taken was a prototype—a half-finished product that somehow, miraculously, made its way out of his lab and into the Last Drop. It sounded shallow and smelled fishy. Hard to believe.

And yet, the conviction in his emotions didn’t seem fake.

God, you wanted to sleep with the certainty that he was just a heartless bastard contributing to the city's downfall. So why would he try to save you if they knew you were spying on them? You were certain they didn’t know. They couldn’t know—you were too good at this. Everything pointed to his guilt.

Yet, somewhere, a tiny seed of hope still lingered.

If what Zarys said was true, you held the key to freedom in your hands. Real freedom. This thing was supposed to stabilize the undesirable effects. In the best-case scenario, it might free you from taking the prototype altogether, of which there was probably only one or two doses left.

In the worst-case scenario, it will kill you. Leave, die… right now, it’s all the same. Your words hit you hard because you knew they were true. You’d told Silco you wanted to leave when it was all over, but maybe there was a chance to end it sooner? Would they be able to close the case without you if you died? You didn’t feel vital to the mission, but you weren’t entirely useless either. It was funny to think about your own death with a faint note of excitement. The question remained whether this was freedom or an escape.

You sat in a chair, staring into the darkness, feeling the burning skin on your leg starkly contrast with the chills that ran through you every now and then. You tried to catch a thought, but it slipped away each time. Your mind was exhausted, and your body was starting to demand another dose. If the wound was to heal fully, and you were to return to work, you’d have to go to Silco at the first signs, not wait until everything inside you began to fall apart. You had to set aside personal feelings and approach this coldly. Whatever was happening between you two could no longer influence your behavior.

It was barely a few hours after sunrise, but another sleepless night was taking its toll. You felt your head drooping, your eyelids sticking together. All this was clouding your thoughts. Instead of forcing yourself to dredge up issues until you bled, you simply wrapped yourself in a blanket and shut yourself off from the world, closing your eyes.

If only you'd cling to life as tightly…

***

“What the fuck is this?!”

You opened your eyes, your heart pounding as if it wanted to burst out of your chest. You jumped up quickly, but all you saw were flashes before your eyes as one of the stitches gave way. You whimpered softly, grabbing your leg, and glanced around the room. For a moment, you weren’t sure what had happened. Something had fallen to the floor.

“Are you going to explain this, or are you just going to stare dumbly?”

“Sevika?”

She stood over you with her arms crossed, looking at you with the same anger and disapproval as she had at the beginning. Adorable.

“You’re testing my patience, and I don’t have much of it. Why are you sending letters to the city?”

You glanced at the object on the floor and noticed the envelope you’d given to Sara.

“Where did you get that?”

You reached for it, but Sevika stepped on it, covering it with her boot.

“Not a chance. What is this?”

“If you’re so curious, why haven’t you opened it yet?” you asked, baiting her because you knew there was nothing incriminating inside.

“I’m giving you one last chance to tell me why you’re suddenly sending letters to Piltover after two visits there.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. Could you really have expected anything different?

“So, you still think I could betray you for shimmer? To think I almost believed your words.”

She hesitated. A shadow of doubt crossed her face as she stepped back slightly. She pressed her lips together and reached for the envelope. She weighed it in her hand for a moment but ultimately didn’t open it. Perhaps your calm and composure had planted a seed of doubt in her.

“If not that, then why the hell are you reopening that channel for work?”

“You know what? Maybe sit down. This won’t take a minute.”

For the first time, you knew more than she did, and this time you hadn’t caused any problems. You wanted to relish the feeling, but it had been hard to find reasons to smile lately. With a gesture, she allowed you to speak, though her expression still betrayed suspicion.

“It’s not a letter with information. I’m not betraying you. Seriously, open it and see for yourself.”

Hesitantly, she grabbed the envelope as if expecting it to explode in her hands. She spilled the papers onto the desk. The deed was tied with a thin string. She picked up a loose sheet, the letter you’d written to the woman, and began reading it aloud:

I don’t know you, but I know who you are. Please consider this a coincidence, though I’ve had too many to believe that myself. I know you used to own a library in Zaun. I know you had to leave when it became dangerous. Don’t ask how, but I came into possession of the deed to this place. I don’t know the formal process, but I trust you’ll figure it out. I want to give this place back to you, so it’s yours forever. I’m leaving a letter transferring the property to you. I hope it’s enough. The kids in Zaun should have access to knowledge.

Hearing your own words aloud made you cringe. When they faded, they lingered in the air for a moment. Sevika followed the words with her eyes, as if expecting some hidden message. She reached for the deed, her expression revealing she hadn’t anticipated this.

She needed time to process. It stung a bit that she’d immediately accused you of betrayal, but you doubted there was much trust between you. On the one hand, it was good that she didn’t underestimate threats, but the fact that she’d thrown your entire conversation from a few days ago out the window left a bitter taste.

Sevika still said nothing. You sighed and shifted closer to the edge of the bed.

“I found in Piltover the woman who used to run a library here. She fled when I was still a child. I used to go there for solace when people got too much. But with what’s happening lately… She can make better use of that place.”

Something warm spread inside you. Was this what selflessness felt like? Was this what a good deed tasted like? You could get used to this.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but first, explain one thing. Since when do you own a fucking tower?!”

You couldn’t help yourself; you started laughing. Her confusion and the fact that she wasn’t holding the reins for once made her act chaotically. What a fascinating sight. She sat stiffly on the chair, throwing angry glances your way as if it were your fault she didn’t know something. You laughed a little longer before realizing she genuinely had no idea what Silco had done.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?”

You shook your head, still amused.

“To think he runs an entire business. After I stitched him up, you came to me with that deed in hand. Silco thought it was better than a simple ‘thank you.’ See how absurd that is?”

“Wait, Silco gave you… a building? What the hell?”

With every word, more panic crept into her expression.

“Alright, let’s start from the beginning. As I wrote in the letter, this place was important to me. I went there to think. It was also the closest when Silco got shot that night. We hid there. I knew no one would think to look for us there. I made sure every entrance was boarded up. Okay, long story short—I don’t know if he felt guilty, or if that word isn’t in his vocabulary, but in the morning, you handed me the deed, and in a conversation, he told me to consider it a token of gratitude.”

"That doesn't quite add up... I'd almost be certain you're lying, but after working with Silco for so many years, I'm afraid he might actually be capable of something like this."

She leaned back more comfortably, and you could almost see the metaphorical hamster running on a wheel in her mind, desperately trying to catch up with her thoughts. Steam might start coming out of her ears any moment now.

"He told me to do whatever I wanted with it, and I finally found a use for it."

"And you're just... giving it away?" she asked, clearly baffled.

"Yes. What's so strange about that?"

"You're really asking? Do you have any idea what properties go for these days? Especially now? You could've sold it and been rich!"

Funny, not so long ago, you might have thought the same way. Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the stitches, grounding yourself. Even though one had burst, no blood was flowing. That was a good sign.

"For what? What's the point of money if I could die at any moment?"

"Occupational hazard, I get it, but still—"

"Sevika," you interrupted her. "You know what I mean."

She looked at you with a pained expression. Both of you understood this all too well. It wasn’t about the money. You could’ve sold the place and enjoyed some luxuries for a while, but then what? No amount of money could buy your life back.

"So where did this idea even come from?"

"I don’t know. I guess it’s been sitting with me since I first held those papers in my hands. The weight of them, the weight of responsibility, was overwhelming, and I didn’t want to think about it. Then I met the previous owner in Piltover. I wouldn’t have even known it was her, but I guess she saw the lower city in me and confessed. I don’t know... For the first time in years, I feel connected to this place. Maybe I won’t find the answers I’m looking for, but maybe someone else will have a better life than I did."

"So let me get this straight: you gave away a property worth thousands without any guarantee that this woman will do what you think she will?"

"You know, I haven’t completely given it away. You're still holding my letter," you joked, trying to lighten the mood, though Sevika remained unusually serious. "I’m not asking you to understand. It’s just something I wanted to do."

It was still daytime. You could see her face sharply and clearly. She really didn’t understand this gesture. Well, she didn’t have to. The important thing was that she no longer suspected you of betrayal.

The old library had been important to you because, in some way, it was yours. You hadn’t paid much attention to its contents back then, but you couldn’t help but notice that Zaun lacked a proper school or any place where kids could learn. It was strange feeling this mix of emotions—some sort of joy and hope that, for the first time in your life, you had done something good. Sevika was silent, processing your words. In her eyes, you were probably foolish and naive. She could think that all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change your decision.

"Shit... And to think I told him not to take that letter," she muttered, dropping her head.

"What?"

"Leon’s our contact in Piltover, but we haven’t needed him for a while. So when he got the letter, he immediately checked with us to make sure it was what he thought it was."

"Wait, how did you know it was from me? I didn’t sign the envelope."

"How did it go? 'Between the bottles'? That’s not one of our phrases. He recognized it right away because, apparently, you talked about it recently."

You smacked your forehead with your palm.

"Of course..."

Maybe you weren’t as clever as you thought you were. Saying it aloud was just confirming what you’d already realized. Trusting a stranger with something so significant might have been foolish. There was a chance she could claim the place for herself or sell it. She had missed Zaun. You were probably one of the first people from the city she’d seen in years. You’d brought back memories. You could almost imagine what she felt. Zaun doesn’t leave you, no matter how far you go. She wanted to return, but there was nothing for her to come back to. Maybe this gesture would show her what you’d come to see some time ago—not all of Zaun was rotten. Some people were worth giving a chance.

"Hey, I’m sorry."

Her words snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked at her, slightly dazed.

"For what?"

"I judged you too quickly. Again."

Oh no. Not this. You felt deeply awkward whenever she or Silco tried to be genuine with you. It was so unlike them that you immediately started looking for a trap. But they were being honest, and that unsettled you even more.

"Look, you don’t need to—"

"No, wait. You deserve an apology. You haven’t given me a single reason to doubt your loyalty. I guess because you’re always disobedient, I’ve been looking for trouble in you. You know, I rarely meet people who think for themselves."

"I should probably take that as a compliment, but when it’s coming from you, I’m never sure."

She snorted, amused.

"I don’t blame you. Look, I know you’re going to need another dose soon. I can take care of it if you don’t want to go back there."

You choked on your breath, feeling your cheeks heat despite your exhaustion. Did she suspect something?

"You don’t have to cover for me. I can handle his outbursts."

No, you couldn’t. You lied through your teeth, telling yourself you’d stay professional, but you lashed out every time Silco opened his mouth.

"Don’t lie. I don’t know what happened between you two, but when I walked in, you were looking at each other like one of you was about to die. I just don’t know which one."

Well, that was partially true. If it weren’t for the wound on your leg, you might have thought about shoving your fist into his mouth to force those words back down his throat. But avoiding him wouldn’t solve anything. You had nothing more to say to him, but you didn’t want to show him that his bitter words had any effect on you. That’s exactly how he might interpret it. No, this was your problem, and Sevika shouldn’t have to deal with it.

"Why was betrayal the first thing you thought of? Maybe I was writing to a lover?"

"One of us—you’re one of us. And besides, you don’t strike me as the type to go looking for side opportunities. But if you’re interested, I know a place."

She said it, leaning slightly closer, with a mischievous glint in her eye. You immediately flustered.

"I think I’ll pass."

"See? Not the type."

"Look who’s a judge of character now. You still haven’t answered—why did you assume it was betrayal?"

She sighed.

"I don’t know. When I saw you two so angry with each other, I just knew words had been said that shouldn’t have been. I’m impressed you let him get under your skin like that. I thought maybe, just maybe, you were looking for a different life for yourself."

"Should I be touched that, this time, you didn’t accuse me of just being mouthy?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile.

"That much I’m certain of. But he... he’s been acting really strange these past few days. I’m guessing this time, it might actually be his fault. I can see he treats you differently from everyone else. I don’t know what to think about it, but I don’t like that he thinks dumping all his problems on you will solve them."

Now you felt incredibly embarrassed. Sevika outright admitted she was worried about you, but you still felt awkward as hell.

"Are you trying to tell me that concern made you think I was sending some spicy details to Piltover? Let me tell you, you’ve got the most twisted logic I’ve ever seen."

She lowered her head, clearly distracted, as if the words refused to arrange themselves into coherent thoughts, rebelling when she tried to speak them.

"You’re ridiculously annoying, you know that? I’m trying to tell you I see potential in you and I don’t want Silco to kill it off before you have the chance for something more. Maybe I acted too rashly, but no sane person sends private letters through an encrypted channel, for crying out loud!"

You’d been waiting for this outburst. When she was calm and struggling to find the right words, she was scarier than when she was actually angry at you. You couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. Gods, you were starting to like her. It was both strangely exciting and slightly dangerous. But you appreciated her honesty—and the fact that she gave you the chance to explain yourself. The tension eased, and for the first time, you were grateful for her presence.

"I’ll accept your twisted apology. And I’ll handle Silco. You don’t need to stress about it."

She rolled her eyes, clearly not believing you, but didn’t challenge your words. She pulled a cigarette out of her pocket, letting the familiar smell of smoke fill the air. She settled in comfortably, propping her feet on the table, not in a hurry to leave your room. You didn’t mind her presence. It was oddly comforting. And it guaranteed that the next intruder would encounter her and her metal arm instead of a limping thief incapable of defending herself.

Those words about Silco... Whatever she thought of your complicated relationship, it was clear even to her that it wasn’t healthy. You didn’t doubt her ability to assess the situation, but if even she noticed, it wouldn’t be long before others did too. The last thing you wanted were rumors about how you earned his treatment. The question was, were you ready to set things straight and firmly establish boundaries?

Unfortunately, your thoughts were interrupted again by another question.

"If you’re handling him so well, then maybe you can explain why he ordered me to fire one of my better people?"

"What did he order?"

"Monty might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was useful for collecting debts. And suddenly, out of nowhere, I’m supposed to get rid of him."

What the hell was he doing? Had he completely lost it? The problem was, you had a suspicion about what was behind this behavior, and you didn’t like it one bit.

"Is he already out?"

"I was on my way to do it when your letter landed in my hands. Why do you ask?"

"Don’t do it," you said quietly but firmly. "I think I know what’s going on, but you can’t do this."

"Why did I know that all of Silco’s weird decisions somehow trace back to you? What did you do this time?"

Silco must be living in some parallel reality if he thought firing this man would solve the problem. You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

"Nothing. That Monty guy broke in here and tried to kill me because he thought I was trying to take his position. He hit me once, but thanks to me, he’ll be missing a tooth forever. Silco asked if you roughed me up like that, and I impulsively admitted I had a little scuffle here. I threw it in his face that he couldn’t control his people, and I guess his pride was wounded or something."

Sevika pursed her lips, thinking intensely about it. If Monty got fired, everyone would know it was because of you. You’d be in deep trouble, and you might be forced to leave this place when they started hunting you down.

"Why do I always have so much hassle with you two?" she groaned. "I respect that you handled it yourself, but he..."

"Don’t fire him. You can’t."

"He tried to kill you, and you’re defending him?"

"You don’t understand. This will cause bigger problems."

She lowered her feet from the table and grew serious.

"You’re asking me to ignore his order. You know that’s impossible."

"Then give me a day. Tomorrow I have to see him anyway to get another dose. If he doesn’t change his mind by then, do what you must."

"What are you planning?"

"To knock some sense into his head because he seems to have forgotten what the world outside his fancy office looks like."

Chapter Text

It was hard to stay in one place after such a torrent of information. You should have known by now that a day without Silco’s strange behavior was a day wasted. When Sevika finally left you, it was still early. He was probably still holed up in his office, doing who-knows-what. You could—just could—get up and go to him with your head still hot, but there was a high chance he’d throw you off balance with another word game or ambiguous statement. Besides, your leg hurt like hell, and you didn’t know what to do with the loose stitches. The very thought of removing them yourself made you nauseous.

You wanted to wait, to think through what you actually wanted to say to him and how to make him understand that his actions had consequences—even if he didn’t feel them. For hours, you couldn’t believe that this Silco, of all people, didn’t understand how quickly rumors and suspicions could spread. You could keep your mouth shut, sure, but the truth was he wasn’t keeping a tight enough leash on his people. For a moment, you felt a faint twinge of guilt, wondering if you were being unfair to him. It must be hard to keep everyone in line, especially with the shimmer business weighing on his shoulders. You caught yourself, much like Sevika often did, trying to justify his behavior instead of showing him the consequences. You just wanted to believe that his decision was about more than just wounded pride.

Whatever his intentions or plans were, he had to understand that one of his decisions could trigger a cascade of events that might force you to disappear for a while. It was awkward and strange, knowing that you were constantly at the center of problems—problems you didn’t always cause. Sevika wasn’t wrong; he’d been acting strange the past few days. Well, this wouldn’t be the first—and certainly not the last—time you’d storm into his office for a fight. But this time, the right was on your side. You didn’t think you’d ever see the day when you’d anticipate an argument with Silco with impatience.

You tried not to think about it, but the thoughts kept returning every time you looked down or felt the tension in your skin. The metal had cut deep into your muscle. This wasn’t some mild scrape. You needed multiple stitches and a small dose of shimmer just to avoid bleeding out in his office. You knew shimmer had healing properties in small amounts, but this… this went far beyond the drug’s usual effects.

This was a mutation.

You felt it, you knew it, but as long as you didn’t say it out loud, there was a sliver of hope that you might be wrong. Still, you’d already noticed similar reactions before—like the time you felt invincible a day after taking shimmer, even though moving had been impossible before. You suspected that shimmer activated something that sped up regeneration, though it didn’t halt cellular decay. It was all too complicated for your head. Unfortunately, you didn’t have anyone knowledgeable enough in biology to tell you what was actually happening in your body.

You kept returning to Zarys’s words. What if what he gave you worked like shimmer, but better and faster? What if it gave you a permanent boost and freed you from relying on the tainted drug? Of course, you could die if some adverse reaction occurred—or mutate and grow a third arm. Yet, if there was even a shred of hope that the vial under your bed was the key to freedom, you couldn’t completely ignore it.

That’s why you waited until the next day, organizing your thoughts. You didn’t want to let slip anything about the mixture in a fit of anger. He’d probably be furious or demand that you hand it over. He might control one aspect of your life, but you weren’t about to give him all the solutions.

For the first time, you were heading to him without that overwhelming stress. Even your anger had settled slightly. You were speaking the truth, and your primary reason was the need for another dose. His absurd behavior was a secondary matter. You wanted to get back to tracking the barrels as quickly as possible—sitting in your room pondering Zarys’s vial wouldn’t solve anything.

You taped the stitches with a few plasters to keep your pants from loosening them completely. Walking was still a bit difficult, but not as bad as the day before. Regardless of the state of your muscles, you knew you’d throw yourself back into work as soon as the dull sting behind your eyes subsided. Whenever you descended lower into the city, it felt like night had fallen over Zaun again. The Last Drop was located deep in the Alleys, while your place was far to the north, where the terrain hadn’t yet sunk down. Crossing that boundary, where the acrid fumes replaced breathable air, you instinctively held your breath. After all these years, you should’ve gotten used to it, but the reflex remained.

You usually took winding paths to ensure no one was tailing you, but with your leg, climbing rooftops and scaling buildings wasn’t an option. It felt strange using one of the elevators, waiting with other people as you descended. The murmurs of voices amplified your headache. You leaned your head against the wall, waiting for it to stop. After falling straight into the fire, your jacket was in terrible shape and couldn’t be worn without repairs—a task you didn’t have the headspace for right now. Without a hood covering your face, you felt exposed and vulnerable, as if you were parading around naked.

No matter the time of day, the Alleys were always crowded. Though the district never slept, there was an odd respect for the hours when the Last Drop was open. It wasn’t that there weren’t other establishments in the area, but this one had a peculiar magnetism. You’d heard it was the same during Vander’s time. Of course, you remembered what the city was like before the barons came to power, but you couldn’t say if it was better or worse. There were definitely fewer addicts in the dark alleys back then. What distinguished the current Zaun from its recent past was the Enforcers’ growing disinterest in delving deeper into the city—they focused more on the areas around the bridges. Convenient and practical, especially for you. You didn’t even know if there was still a bounty on your head.

You walked in like you owned the place. The bouncer didn’t even flinch at your presence. Perhaps they were used to your visits during off-hours, or maybe Silco had given them some sort of order. God, you didn’t want to be treated differently.

The Last Drop without people brought back memories. The bad ones, where you were spitting blood and your body rebelled at the mere smell of the place. But also, unfortunately, the good ones, when it seemed like you could have genuine, normal conversations with Silco. That felt so long ago. Surprisingly, you didn’t want to wait for courage to wash over you before stepping inside. Mostly, you felt exhausted by the fact that since you’d had that spiked drink, you’d suddenly become an inseparable part of every problem—and you weren’t even getting paid for it since it wasn’t in your contract.

Climbing the stairs wasn’t as hard anymore, but still far too slow for your liking. The place was eerily quiet. The staff, who usually kept the bar in decent shape, were nowhere to be found. You hesitated halfway up the stairs, unsure if you wanted to subject yourself to another argument when no one else was around. Shaking off the paranoia, you refocused on your thoughts.

This newfound sense of hearing was useful; you didn’t need to press your ear to the door to make sure he wasn’t with anyone else. As usual, you knocked but didn’t wait for his response before stepping in and quietly closing the door behind you. You were ready for a snide remark, but oddly, he wasn’t there. The sight threw you off so much that you forgot everything you had planned to say. If he wasn’t here, then where? Had he disappeared again to avoid a conversation? The problem was, this time, he hadn’t given Sevika the shimmer for you.

Well, not that you were opposed to rummaging through his drawers if it came to that, but you doubted it would go unnoticed. Without his imposing presence, you finally had the chance to look around the room. His desk dominated the space, and only now did you notice strange drawings etched along its edges. Could it be that Silco had some hidden artistic talent, expressed through doodling on his furniture? The sketches were somewhat angular, but hey, genius doesn’t happen overnight. You stared at the depiction of a crooked monkey, so engrossed you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps outside.

When the door opened, you jumped slightly in surprise.
But he seemed even more startled.

He held a glass of his usual drink, and it was clear he had been lost in thought on his way back to the office. He looked like someone who had dropped a meticulously arranged stack of ideas and now had to piece them back together. Finally, he closed the door behind him and passed you without a word, sinking heavily into his chair without sparing you a glance. As if you weren’t already used to it.

“You’re early.”

“Am I? It’s ten o’clock.”

The words slipped out naturally, almost carelessly, even though you hadn’t intended to sound so nonchalant. He gave you a tired look, one that practically begged you to spare him any cheap humor.

“I wasn’t expecting you today. What do you want?”

You had half a mind to crack your knuckles, ready for a verbal duel, but you restrained yourself. Instead, you perched on the edge of the desk, maintaining a deliberate distance, as if that would help you stay calm.

“Has it ever occurred to you to think before you act?”

“Has it occurred to you?”

“Don’t twist my words. Why did you do it?”

You expected his patience to wear thin quickly, especially given your bold tone. Yet instead of snapping, he settled deeper into his chair, lacing his fingers and resting them beneath his chin.

“Oh, what a refreshing change. Please, enlighten me—what exactly did I do?”

He looked as if he viewed this conversation as a game—one where the winner would be whoever could unnerve the other first. Usually, you lost, but this time, you were determined to hold your ground.

“What possessed you to fire Monty?”

“Who?”

You were stunned. You thought he’d respond sarcastically, but he genuinely seemed confused.

“I don’t believe this...” you muttered in disbelief. “Are we just numbers on a list to you? Did you randomly pick someone, and it just happened to be him?”

Silco squinted his eyes.

“I don’t recall personnel decisions being part of your responsibilities. If you’re here to lecture me, you can just leave.”

You shot to your feet, ignoring the protest of your muscles. Clenching your teeth, you pushed past the pain.

“Do you seriously not know who Monty is, or are you pretending just to piss me off?”

“So far, you’re doing an excellent job of that without my help. Please, enlighten me—who is this man?”

His brazenness floored you. Your hands curled into fists, ready for a fight, even though you knew it was futile.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know. He’s the same Monty who broke into my room.”

Silco raised an eyebrow.

“And you think that has something to do with you?”

You faltered, hesitation creeping in, but it was quickly replaced by anger.

“I pointed out that you don’t control your people, and a day later, Sevika gets an order to fire him. Don’t tell me that’s a coincidence.”

Silco sighed as if the whole thing bored him. He pulled a folder out of a drawer and slid it across the desk toward you. Hesitantly, you opened it.

“That’s him. And so what?”

“Read it. If you’d taken a moment, you’d see this man had a history of misconduct. Your report simply gave me the pretext to remove him. And no, I didn’t know it was the same person until you mentioned it.”

You flipped through Monty’s file, seeing reports of aggressive behavior, threats, and various incidents. It all added up, yet you couldn’t shake the sting of shame over your hasty accusations.

“You could have told me.”

“I didn’t see the need.”

“But you only acted after I brought it up. Strange, don’t you think?”

“Don’t make yourself the center of the universe. You wanted me to address it—I did. What else do you want?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his calm demeanor was unnerving. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself not to back down. For the first time, though, you began to wonder if you had overstepped.

“You’re not telling me everything.”

His face hardened, a rare crack in his usual composure.

“Don’t forget that I’m still your employer and can terminate you at any moment.”

You lifted your head defiantly.

“Then do it. Fire me. Right now.”

For a moment, Silco was silent, clearly taken aback by your reaction.

“Say the word, and you’ll have a termination notice on your desk. But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“Oh, really? Then what do I want?”

“Revenge.”

You froze. He said it so calmly, like stating a fact. Worse, he was right. You wanted to deny it, but something in his gaze stopped you.

“Revenge? Seriously? That’s absurd.”

“You can deny it all you want, but you won’t fool me. You’re acting out of emotion, and I won’t let it ruin my plans.”

Your frustration boiled over. Maybe he was right, or maybe he just wanted you gone. Either way, this conversation left you feeling shattered—and furious.

"I know that look on your face. You get it every time Zarysis is mentioned. You think he's the source of all your problems. You approach tasks too emotionally, and because of that, you always end up with some broken bone or wound. You can’t pull back to consider your next move—you just charge after him, trying to take out all your grievances on him. I didn’t order you to spy on him. You did that on your own, and once again, someone had to clean up your mess. And I don’t just mean the blood on my couch."

You involuntarily stepped back a pace. Each word hit its mark, stinging more than any wound you’d ever suffered.

"I had a chance to find out who’s behind this! Don’t you think that’s important?"

"Absolutely. But that wasn’t your assignment. You were supposed to keep an eye on the shipment, which might now be long gone. You’re incapable of following orders. Be grateful I haven’t taken you off the case altogether."

That was the trigger. Your mind flashed back to a conversation where you begged him not to remove you from the problem. Now he was threatening to do just that, all because you had the audacity to have your own opinion. You didn’t know how to respond. In just a few minutes, he had displayed more professionalism and composure than you had in weeks. He took a calm sip from his glass, watching as you wrestled with your thoughts. He probably expected you to storm out of the bar in a rage as usual. The problem was, you didn’t have anywhere to go.

"Then why am I still here, huh? If I’m such a problem, why the hell are you keeping me around?"

He shrugged slightly. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. It wasn’t why you had come here, but you felt that sooner or later, one of you would snap and the words would start flying. Too bad it was always you who lost your temper first.

"I’m not firing you because you have skills that might be useful to me. And I know you won’t leave. I’m your only shot at getting to him."

"You forget that I know where they keep the shipment. I can get to them without you."

He closed his eyes, covering them with his hand as if searching for patience. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what you were trying to achieve. You didn’t like how he treated you, but even the thought of telling him that felt oddly childish.

Maybe Sevika was right—it was time to lay it all out clearly. Why the hell did you keep coming back? Sure, you were dependent on him because he controlled the shimmer. But you had the option to work elsewhere and never see him again. So what kept pulling you back to him? Some twisted, masochistic hope that maybe this time would be different. You really should get yourself checked.

Silco returned to his default state—calm and perpetually weary. He observed you, as if assessing what you might be capable of in this state. Or perhaps, like you, he just wanted to get something off his chest.

"You don’t trust me," he began quietly. "You don’t believe I know what I’m doing. And you’d probably rather burn everything to the ground just to vent your anger at something."

Well, it seemed like the time for honesty. You needed this, but you knew it would hurt. You started rubbing your hands together. You weren’t as angry now as you had been when you arrived. No, you were tired—tired of always expecting something from him.

"I try to trust you. I do, but it’s not easy. You keep so many things hidden and don’t bother sharing, even though we’re in this together," you said, meeting his gaze firmly. "I think you’re too cautious in your actions and take too long to make decisive moves."

He nodded, acknowledging your words, but you were sure they didn’t leave much of an impression.

"So what do you think I should do? Should I throw all my people into a fight? Order them to search for something I can’t even describe to them? Do you think they’d follow me into the fire if I commanded it? Don’t be naive."

You sighed heavily, feeling a strange sense of disappointment. Why did he even ask for your opinion if he wasn’t going to consider it? Probably just to mock you later.

"But I’m different, right? You can order me around all you like?"

Silco slammed his glass down loudly. He seemed to be losing his patience. Good—maybe now he’d say something more substantial.

"I never said the assignments were mandatory. You do this because you wanted to. You practically begged Sevika for a task. And now suddenly you have a problem with me giving you work?"

"Oh, sure! Like I’d believe that!" you sneered. "I don’t see anyone else jumping at the chance to work on this. Don’t try to tell me you’d accept my refusal."

He stood, clearly irritated, and leaned his hands on the desk. You’d managed to push him to the edge, but at what cost? To think you’d once believed there might be something more between you. You were paying for your foolishness now.

"You can think of me as a monster, but I wouldn’t force you to do something you didn’t want to. Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought. So for the sake of clarity, let me say this one more time: No one is forcing you to be here. If you don’t like it, the door is always open."

You clenched your hands so tightly your nails dug painfully into your skin. Despite the hunger gnawing at you, your mind was unusually clear. You wondered how long it would take Sevika to find you if you decided to beat him senseless. Silco shook his head in exasperation and reached for another drink but ultimately refrained, returning to his seat. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Silco started flipping through some documents but soon set them aside, still irritated.

"It’s convenient to offer someone freedom when you know they have no choice," you muttered, slumping onto a table.

You raised your hands to your temples, trying to fight off an impending headache. Silco chuckled dryly, though you could hear the anger in his voice.

"You made it very clear recently that you do have a choice. What was it you said? 'Leave, die... right now, it’s all the same.’"

"What’s your point? You’re clinging to those words like I’m about to walk out and throw myself off the nearest building."

He sighed, closed his eyes, and muttered a curse under his breath before pulling a cigar from a box.

"No, it’s you who’s clinging to thoughts of death as if it’s the only option. How can I trust you to be committed to the work when you’re looking for death around every corner?"

You wanted to say it was the only option, but then you remembered what you kept under your bed. No, you couldn’t tell him about that. Not now.

"I’m not looking for it, and I didn’t ask for this life. But I’m not just sitting around waiting for someone to solve everything for me. Do you think all these accidents were my fault? Let me enlighten you: not one of them was caused by me. Everything just sticks to me as if I’ve got a target painted on my forehead. I’m trying to live with it. You have no idea what it’s like to feel your body falling apart from the inside every week,  and survive depends on a man who treats you as a carrier, for a mutation that can be useful, not a human being."

You suddenly straightened, feeling terror tighten around your throat. You bit your lip to keep from saying anything more. You hadn’t meant to be this honest. Curling in on yourself, you felt you’d revealed more than you intended.

You came to tell him that firing that man would complicate many things, so how did you suddenly end up confessing that those words still hurt you? You should have left. Cut yourself off from this. But the pain behind your eyes wouldn't stop. You needed another dose.

You lifted your gaze. Silco sat, staring intently at one spot. The smoke from his cigar rose and dissipated among the beams near the ceiling. You watched it for a moment, knowing that yet another line had been crossed—a line that defined your life in this community. You didn’t want to get closer to him, not anymore. The fascination you felt every time he entered the room had faded when you realized you didn’t matter to him. He saw you as a tool to be used to achieve his goals. You should have seen it coming, but something in you wanted to believe Silco had feelings. Well, that was naive.

You stood, knowing it was high time to leave this place. Maybe Sevika could be persuaded to bring you another dose. Asking about it now was pathetic.

“Two left.”

You stopped and glanced at him over your shoulder.

“What?”

He pulled a familiar little box out of a drawer. He buried his face in his hands. He ruined his hair, but for once, he didn’t try to fix it right away.

“I know you came for another dose.”

“Do you keep a calendar or something?” you laughed, surprised by the pain in his tone.

“Yes. I know exactly when you start feeling the effects. I figured you’d come for more today or tomorrow.”

You peeked inside and, indeed, there were only two vials left. That meant you had about two weeks of life remaining. Suddenly, Zarys’s gift didn’t seem so terrifying. You touched one of the vials delicately, realizing the gravity of the situation. You knew this was the best moment to tell Silco what had really happened in the factory. Yet the words wouldn’t come. You were afraid he’d take even this away.

He leaned his head against the backrest of his chair and closed his eyes. He seemed utterly exhausted, as if the weight of the world’s responsibilities had just fallen on him. When he looked like that, it was hard for you to lash out at him, but you had no idea when your conversation shifted from firing someone to the shortage of the drug.

“Well, I guess we’ll need to hurry and wrap this up before the shimmer runs out,” you replied lightly.

Silco growled suddenly and leapt from his chair, nearly toppling it. He turned toward the window, one hand on his hip, the other massaging his forehead.

“How can you talk about your own death so calmly?!”

You felt like hitting him. What did he know about it? He had no idea how long it had taken you to come to terms with the fact that death was staring you in the face. The only thing keeping you alive was the hope that you could stop those responsible for the new drug.

“What else am I supposed to do? Cry? It took a while, but I’ve accepted that any day could be my last.”

He pivoted sharply. He grabbed the backrest of the chair, his hands gripping it tightly. His eyes were shadowed as if he hadn’t slept in days. You saw a strange pain in his eyes, but you couldn’t discern its cause. You stepped back, feeling a tense energy in the air.

“I’m bending over backward trying to find more so you won’t die. It’d be easier if you’d start valuing your own life instead of resigning yourself to death.”

His outburst was different from what you’d seen before. It was genuine. Without a trace of malice. For a moment, something from that night resurfaced, but it faded quickly. Too fleeting to hold onto.

“You’re…doing what?”

“You think I disappear on a whim? Do you know how hard it is to find this stuff? Let me give you a hint: it’s impossible because only one person knows how to make it, and they’re a ghost!”

He was furious, to the limit. But this time, his anger wasn’t directed at you. He must have been holding it in for a while for it to burst out like this. But why did he care so much about keeping you alive? You wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t just about the mutation, but Silco wasn’t one to pour his heart out. All you wanted to hear from him was that he saw a person in you.

He paced the room. Something was happening that you didn’t understand. Such events had been happening more often lately. As if the world had suddenly decided to ramp up the difficulty level of the game without warning. You were missing a piece of the puzzle to understand where his anger came from.

“Silco, what are you…”

“I told you I wouldn’t let you die. I’m trying, but you make it harder every day,” he said, struggling to maintain his composure. “Take this and go home. I trust you’ll wait until you’re back before using it. Tonight, you’re back on transport surveillance. Just go, please.”

He dismissed you so quickly and dispassionately that you began to doubt the emotions behind his words. Somewhat offended, but mostly shaken to the core, you tucked the vial into your pocket and left before he could say anything else.

***

It was ironic that more than anything else, you wanted to be free of Silco forever, and yet your actions condemned you to return to him. Over and over again.

Anger and confusion carried you home faster than you expected. You locked yourself in your room, wanting to smash the vial against the wall, but you knew you’d end up licking the shimmer off the floor before you could maintain your resolve. You drank it all in one large gulp and tucked the bottle into your wardrobe.

He had muddled your mind, leaving your thoughts in shreds. Even shimmer couldn’t dull the chaos in your heart. When it finally hit you what his words meant, you had to sit down and bury your head between your knees. Everything he said made it clear that Silco was doing everything he could to keep you alive. Oh, that could have been so sweet if not for the fact that he never let you feel like he saw a human being in you.

It disgusted you and discouraged you to the core. You were useful. That was all you could hope for. In truth, it made you want to cry in frustration. You didn’t know why you couldn’t tell him outright that his words were cruel and that if he hurt you again, he’d never see you again. That was exactly what you should have done. Even Sevika made that clear to you. You allowed him to trample all over you, even though it made no sense.

Somewhere deep in your heart lay the answer, but you were afraid to reach for it because you knew those words would be worse than a death sentence. They would starkly remind you of how pathetic your position was if a single word from him could make you abandon all that anger. That’s why you wanted to withdraw as much as possible, but you kept coming back.

Like a pitiful, loyal dog waiting for scraps, no matter how many times it was kicked.

You were supposed to go back to work. That’s what you were good at. You couldn’t care less about his talk of working on your own. He said he wouldn’t fire you, and you didn’t want to leave before solving the case. Now you had the motivation to finish it as quickly as possible. Unless you stole one of the barrels for yourself, you might as well dig your grave next week.

As you suspected, the shimmer had regenerated your muscles to their pre-accident state. Rather crudely and barbarically, you removed your stitches using simple scissors, but they were no longer needed. You were curious about what the drug had altered in you this time. Hopefully, nothing physical. You still hadn't deciphered your spontaneous reactions to threats, but you weren’t keen on diving into trouble just to test them.

It was ironic that he accused you of acting on emotions and then sent you on a mission right after your conversation. As if a few hours were enough to digest his remarks. It felt intentional, like he was testing whether you’d mess up again.

Kicking pebbles angrily, you crossed the bridge. You chose a different route to avoid running into guards. If they were assigned to specific posts, there was a chance the new ones wouldn’t recognize your face among others. Surely, they wouldn’t expect you to stroll around the upper city after everything that had happened. Hiding in plain sight, right?

Focusing on the path ahead was the perfect way to distract yourself from replaying the conversation with Silco. The plan was straightforward: return to the sewers and try to access the level below through a floor hatch. You suspected this was how Zarys had moved up earlier. His odd escapade suddenly took on new significance after your discussion. No, you still didn’t trust him, but he must have had his reasons for running as if the devil himself was after him.

Standing before the metal gate, you paused to watch the last rays of sunlight squeezing between the buildings. You wondered if you’d have enough time to climb higher and see what Piltover looked like from above. Unfortunately, the familiar clinking of metal from afar forced you to retreat into the shadowed stairs. Another patrol. You weren’t sure if this was routine or an extra precaution. Such measures weren’t taken in Zaun.

You waited for them to pass the sewer entrance, not wanting their attention drawn by the sound of footsteps. As a precaution, you pulled your scarf over your face. It would have to suffice, as your coat was still hanging on a chair, waiting for you to patch it up. Shaking your head, you pinched your cheeks. You couldn’t afford distractions. You remembered the path to the ladder well enough, but a moment of carelessness could land you in a forgotten tunnel, making it hard to find your way back. Reaching into your backpack, you pulled out the map you’d drawn while searching for that one branch. There was no room for even a small mistake. You were heading into the enemy’s storage area, with no guarantee you’d leave the same way.

Adrenaline mixed with stress, a perfect blend to keep your focus sharp without muddling your steps. You hesitated briefly before reaching for the hatch. His words echoed in your ears, accusing you of always doing more than the mission required. He could shove that order in his boots to make himself taller. You pried the plate open with your knife, silently praying it wouldn’t snap. As before, a faint beam of light immediately became visible. This was it.

You couldn’t hear anything alarming—no voices or footsteps. You hadn’t tested if you could hear someone breathing from afar, but there wasn’t time. You slid the plate aside, letting light spill into the tunnel. The passage was narrow. You wouldn’t fit with your backpack. Peering down, you estimated the floor was about three meters below. You could see parts of walls, suggesting the entrance might be in an alcove or room. Whatever it was, there was a chance you wouldn’t land in the middle of a warehouse.

Here goes nothing.

You pulled out a mirror from your bag to scope out the area. As you suspected, it was a room—more of a cell, really. Three stone walls and a grated doorway reminiscent of a prison cell. Nothing your lockpicks couldn’t handle. On the floor were some sacks, a crate full of torn rags, and a water barrel. Taking a deep breath, you tossed your backpack into the crate. It landed quietly, completely concealed. The silence below persisted. Grabbing the edge, you lowered your legs and hung on briefly. Closing the hatch behind you was impossible now, but it was too late to worry about that. You dropped down and immediately took cover in the shadow of the barrel.

From your hiding spot, you could see only a section of the corridor. Moving stealthily, you approached the door. Using the mirror again, you checked the surroundings, finding no one in sight. You doubted they posted guards at every corridor. Their leader seemed confident enough to allow such carelessness. Then again, it was unlikely anyone would stumble upon this place while wandering through the sewers. Lucky for you, their oversight meant you could quietly unlock the door. Whatever lay at the ends of the corridors would have to wait until you were out of the cell.

From here, you heard voices. Women, perhaps, passing by or stopping here for a chat. The corridor to the left ended in a wall. Sticking to the shadows, you crept toward the turn. You passed more cells, wondering if this had been a private prison or just storage for junk.

Of course, you couldn’t tell from the conversation which direction they had taken. You trusted your instincts and turned right. There was an old rule: always turn the same direction, so it’s easier to retrace your steps. What troubled you was the absence of people. You feared they might have taken the goods and left before you could figure out where. Returning to Silco with nothing but vague suspicions would be humiliating.

But before you declared the mission a total failure, you had to explore further. The area wasn’t much different from the upper sewers—drained, but the walls were still scarred with holes. Makeshift lamps were installed, their cables running along the walls and ceiling, all leading in one direction. A clue, at least. Following the wires, you navigated the corridors, unsure of what or who you might encounter. Was the overheard conversation important enough to warrant traveling this far? Was there something valuable in the cells that had already been taken?

Raised voices echoed from the left, pulling you forward. Quickening your pace, you soon arrived at an open area. You crouched, cursing the light. There was nowhere to hide. Ahead, you saw a small drop leading lower. For safety, a simple chain was strung between crude posts—not much protection against a fall, more of a warning. Glancing around to ensure the coast was clear, you lay flat on the ground, reducing your visibility. Something was happening below.

“Put that down before you spill something!” barked a man.

They looked like they were from Zaun. Familiar rough features that spoke of a lack of perfumed soap and soft towels. Tattoos and weapons at their belts completed the picture. You counted four of them, apart from the one who had spoken. The speaker stood out—more serious, though no robe could hide his vile nature. You could see it in his eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, they keep changing their minds. When are we supposed to move this stuff?” one of them grumbled.

“When the time comes,” the first man snapped.

“I’m not lugging these damn barrels around because they can’t make up their minds. We’re doing it tonight. End of discussion.”

The man grabbed a barrel, prompting the first to draw his weapon, ready to attack. Bold move, but three guns quickly pointed at him in response. Three against one—the poor guy didn’t stand a chance. Yet he seemed unwilling to back down, cocking his gun as he waited for his opponent to let go of the goods.

"Do it again, and besides your paycheck, you'll also lose your hands," he snarled. "Get out of here before I lose my patience."

The man quickly stepped back, raising his hands in the air. Bornie's guns returned to their holsters, but the tension remained. What an interesting event.

"Alright, alright, don't get so worked up or you'll burst a vein," he chuckled disgustingly. "We'll work something out, just tell me when we should move it."

The man sighed and rubbed his forehead. Something was wrong with their plans. Did that woman convince the other to wait a week?

"Everything is planned for the Chancellor's birthday. The night before, you'll take the barrels and move them to the main hub. That's all I can reveal."

The man whistled for his companions and signaled for them to leave with a nod. As they passed by the one giving orders, he nudged him with his shoulder, putting a little more force into it than necessary. Cursing under his breath, the man approached the barrel he had been checking to inspect any possible damage before he too exited through the same entrance.

You didn't dare to move for a few more minutes. You watched them from above. The room was high, shaped like a small dome. You counted about fifty barrels placed in the center. The sight of that much shimmer made your head spin. You didn't know how they were transporting it, but that didn't matter now. The room had two exits opposite each other. There were no doors or bars. The descent from your position didn't seem possible. You could search the place for hours, but you had what you wanted. You found the transfer date. They didn't specify which Chancellor it was about, but they probably wouldn't wait months, so it was safe to assume it was the nearest one. Whatever the main hub was, you'd have to wait until three heads, not one, figured it out.

You were tempted to try your luck and check the rest of the corridors, but you didn’t know what you'd encounter. You were walking straight into danger, just as Silco had warned. Part of you wanted to defy him and search further, but if you were spotted, they could catch you quickly. You weren't in Zaun, where you could simply climb a building to disappear. You didn’t know where the other exits were, and the trapdoor was far away, though you might be able to jump to it.

You had to go back and report what you overheard. That was more important than any unresolved issues between you and Silco. He wanted professionalism, and that's exactly what he would get—enough to ring in his ears.

You continued on shaky legs, walking deeper into the tunnels. When you were sure your footsteps wouldn't be heard from below, you sprinted, unwilling to waste a second. Just crossing the upper city at night was risky. This time, the patrols wouldn't let you off so easily.

You locked the cell behind you with a set of picks, erasing all traces. You probably knew how Zarys made it to the upper city, but that still didn’t explain what he was doing here. The barrel was heavy, too heavy to tip over. It stank of dirty water, but it was high enough that you could reach the hole in the ceiling. First, you threw your backpack in, then, balancing on the edge, tried to grab the edge. You had to jump a little to catch it. The barrel swayed, but apart from getting your boots splashed, it went well. The uneven edge pressed into your hands, almost cutting them to the bone. Good thing you had fresh shimmer in your veins. Without it, you wouldn't have been able to pull yourself up that high.

You gave yourself a moment to catch your breath before sliding the plate back into place. Maybe it was luck that no one was guarding this part of the sewers. Maybe they were too busy with the move or too confident in their power to watch every part of the tunnels. It worked to your advantage. You wanted to get back to Zaun as quickly as possible, but you had to cross the bridge first. You reached the stairs, crouched at the top to assess the danger. You didn't hear any footsteps, so there was hope you could sneak by unnoticed.

For safety, you chose another route, trying to use the shadows whenever possible. You looked into the windows of the houses, wondering how strange it was that danger grew beneath their feet. You hadn’t entered Zaun from this side before. You’d walked almost the entire upper city, losing more than two hours and it would take almost the same to travel to Last Drop. If you managed to catch Silco before sunrise, it would be a miracle. Of course, you were panicking, and paranoia had you taking excessive precautions, but that night, they wouldn't be moving barrels. And the more time you spent away from Silco, the better.

The post near the bridge loomed with dark windows. Either they burned it down, or they left it to the mercy of fate. Or maybe they were short on people? Speculating about it wouldn’t get you to the other side of the river, so you quickly ran up the bridge, wanting to cover as much distance as possible before you ran out of breath.

You didn’t recognize the area. You didn’t often venture this far north. The facility where you lived was nearby, but you always approached it from the center, never from the Piltover side. For peace of mind, you decided to head towards the road you knew, closer to the middle bridge, and start from there.

You never paid attention to the advice, so you had no idea which Chancellor had a birthday and when it was. Silco would take care of that once you delivered the information. What worried you more was the amount of drugs stored in the sewers. It was enough to kill half the city, and someone wanted to use it for their own purposes. It had to be stopped at all costs. Too bad it was tied to saving Piltover.

Walking quickly through the streets, you replayed the argument between the men in your mind. You were sure they were hired thugs from Zaun, guarding the goods. No one from the upper city would agree to this, and they’d report it to the guards before accepting money. Or maybe it was better to just blow the whole thing up?

Blow it up…

You jerked your head as something unlocked in your memory, but you didn’t know what exactly. For a moment, the light of a vehicle blinded you. You jumped aside, bumping into a woman with a child. The little one cried, and the woman picked him up, yelling at you as she quickly walked away. You didn’t listen to her because something about the poorly drawn loaf of bread caught your attention. It reminded you of something. It wasn’t the place, but you knew it connected to something important. Something you were supposed to remember but had forgotten in the midst of other things.

Camille!

Oh shit. You sprang into action, feeling a flood of memories and plans rush through your mind. If you were right, you might have just found the solution to one of the problems. Depending on how much they valued your usefulness, they might protect you or hand you over to him.

Ignoring the strange looks, you pushed through the crowd in Last Drop. Leaping up every two steps, you reached the top in seconds. You heard a conversation in the office but couldn’t stop your hands from going for the door. You burst in, interrupting Silco and Sevice. They looked at you in shock. You seized the moment, words spilling out with your breath.

"It's Finn!"

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

I was asked to add it again so here it is: the playlist for this story

Crawlin' back to you

***

If you were smarter, you’d have accepted such a resolution.

You got what you wanted. Silco acted like an adult and took your words seriously. What you’d hoped for happened—a genuine apology and reassurance that your fears were unfounded. Exactly what you wanted. And yet, as you followed him to the meeting, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the conversation wasn’t over. You watched his straight back and wondered if his words might have had another meaning.

If you were smarter, you wouldn’t be searching for one.

Actions, not words. You’d forced this on him without knowing for sure that he’d keep his promise. You wanted to trust him, but in a crucial moment, when faced with a choice, you knew he’d prioritize resolving the issue over you. You didn’t want to blame him for it, but you knew you would. You dreaded this meeting terribly. If Finn demanded your head in exchange for information, would Silco refuse?

You clenched your teeth. The feelings you’d buried deep, locked away so you couldn’t access them, began to surface. You’d demanded distance and professionalism, and now that you finally had them, you felt an odd irritation because you knew it still wasn’t enough. But you’d be a fool to demand more and more from him when he’d already given you more than you should have gotten.

Regardless of the words exchanged, your relationship would never return to normal. You regretted what you’d said. You were beginning to understand that what you felt ran deeper than you’d suspected. It seemed you were indeed acting emotionally and impulsively. Despite your feelings, you could see the logic and necessity of certain moves. He had no right to ever know what you truly kept hidden. For the sake of the entire operation, he should hand you over if necessary. Unless, of course, he had some truth serum up his sleeve to force Finn to talk.

But more than anything, you wanted him to choose you.

If you were smarter, you wouldn’t overthink his words; you’d simply take them as they were given.

But you weren’t smart.

You paid no attention to where you were going or how long you’d been walking. You cursed inwardly, knowing that finding an escape route would be difficult. He probably couldn’t climb the way you could, so if it came to a fight, your chances were slim. As you passed under an archway, Silco paused for a moment and glanced back at you.
"I hope you understand that no matter what we discussed, you won’t be given any special treatment. Clear?"

You rolled your eyes, relieved that his slightly sarcastic tone was back.

"I hope so. What would people say otherwise?"

"Let’s hope you play your part well. Here, you might need this."

Something about his words felt off—he seemed too amused for the situation. He pressed a small box into your hands. Heavy, wooden, and reeking of tobacco even from a distance.

"What am I supposed to do with your cigars?" you asked, slightly irritated, but he didn’t answer.

You stepped out of the shadows, and before you loomed a building that, unlike most, was brightly lit. You were far from the center of the city, and you hadn’t noticed when you’d descended into one of the crevices. You didn’t know this area—you never ventured here. If there were no people, there was nothing to steal. The building partially blended into the rock, creating an interesting piece of architecture—if it weren’t for the high fence and the swarm of armed guards.

Someone here clearly had an ego problem.

You searched your memory for what Finn was involved in, but beyond making explosives, you couldn’t recall much. You knew he regularly tried to gain a monopoly on ammunition, but no one wanted to depend on one person. Finn would have too much power if he controlled access to weapons in Zaun. He was foolish if he thought people would trust him.

You were sure Silco had some ambitious plan, likely involving sneaking in through a dark passage to catch Finn alone. Surprised and without his guards, he’d be more inclined to talk if someone pressed a blade to his throat. At least, that’s what you would do. But Silco strode through the open gate as if he owned the place. You felt exposed to hundreds of staring eyes. You wanted to run before they memorized your face, but he walked on confidently, unbothered by the surprised glances.

Of course, there had never been an official conflict between him and Finn. That’s why such meetings didn’t spark aggression. Everyone in Zaun knew Silco. They parted before him, creating a path, afraid to cross him. No one even thought to stop you and ask what you were doing there. You hunched your shoulders, trying to suppress the shivers crawling up your spine. You could hear whispers among the crowd. They were wondering what this meeting could mean. Their boss hadn’t informed them, so speculation began immediately. Fortunately, you weren’t mentioned in any of their theories. Everyone was too busy watching The Eye of Zaun stride purposefully toward the main entrance.

Silco treated the people in the square as if they didn’t exist. He pushed open the doors and strode inside. The heavy wings slammed against the walls, echoing loudly. He disappeared into the building as quickly as he’d appeared, leaving the crowd in even greater shock. When Silco had mentioned a meeting with Finn, you thought it was planned—not that you’d storm his headquarters unannounced. Well, here’s hoping Finn was as afraid of Silco as you suspected.

"What was that?" you whispered as you walked down the corridor deeper into the building. "We could have been killed!"

He shrugged and slowed his pace slightly.

"Don’t be dramatic. Finn isn’t stupid. He probably assumes I’ve hidden people in the area. He won’t risk a fight because he knows he’ll lose."

"You’re ridiculously overconfident."

He glanced sideways, smiling faintly.

"By showing up unannounced, we’ve denied him the chance to prepare."

"I shouldn’t be here. Finn will see I’m alive and know you lied."

"He never believed us to begin with. Your presence won’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. Trust me; I know what I’m doing."

"Yeah, sending me to my death," you muttered grimly, but his sharp glance silenced you. "Sorry."

"Instead of questioning my decisions, focus on your task."

"I know what I’m supposed to do, but I still don’t like it."

You sighed heavily, feeling that a stray bullet was more likely to kill you than an addiction. But this wasn’t the time for arguments. You focused, trying to pick up any familiar noises nearby, but the thick walls muffled everything. There might as well have been a concert happening next door, and you wouldn’t have heard it. Whatever Silco hoped to achieve with this meeting, it had better work—because you wouldn’t get another chance like this.

Moments later, you stood before a tall door. You barely had time to consider Finn’s insecurities, reflected in his headquarters, when Silco burst inside without hesitation. His confidence would lead to disaster someday.

You followed two steps behind him, knowing full well that even if a fight broke out, you wouldn’t be able to protect him, let alone stop him. Gods, Sevika would rip your head off if anything happened at this meeting.

You arrived at a room that might have served as a meeting place, though it seemed Finn didn’t have many guests. The place reeked of dust and gunpowder, as if it had been neglected for a long time. This man clearly had some issues and was probably trying to project more importance than he actually possessed. You’d never seen him before, but he wasn’t what you had imagined.

“Has anyone ever told you that such intrusions can end badly?”

A voice came from the other side of the room. Silco stopped a few steps past the doorway. You stood in front of a long table. The position could have been embarrassing or degrading, but not for Silco. He seemed to fill the entire space, asserting dominance regardless of his location.

Finn looked like the complete opposite of what you’d expected. Black hair slicked to one side. A mass of tattoos, which he flaunted by wearing only a golden jacket. But the most repulsive feature was that strange mask—like an extra jaw. And this was supposedly the man with connections in the upper city? He looked utterly ridiculous. His entourage was far more intimidating than he was: five men armed to the teeth, standing motionless but nervously gripping their rifles, as though the mere thought of using them against Silco terrified them.

Finn lounged with one leg propped on the table, fiddling with a lighter. He clearly wanted to project an air of nonchalance, but he fit in this room like a square peg in a round hole. You noticed a thin layer of dust on the dark wood. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t his office. You could imagine him rushing here in a panic upon learning of your arrival, frantically trying to decide on a pose that would make him appear fearless. But his eyes betrayed him.

You knew he recognized you. He tried to hide it, but his eyes widened slightly, just for a moment. The facade of bravado faltered. He shifted as if he suddenly felt out of place. You wondered what had driven the hunts for you. Was it merely wounded pride? Quickly, he swung his leg off the table and slammed his palms onto it. Your presence was clearly aggravating him. He was easy to rattle.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Are you talking about my company?”

“Do you see anyone else here?” he snarled. “You told me the ship burned, and no one survived.”

Silco shrugged, his expression unreadable.

“Well, you told me you’d handle it, but I’ve since learned that the search continues. So don’t feign surprise now.”

Finn had no retort. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair over. His men stirred but stopped at a sharp gesture from him. He walked toward you and perched on the edge of the table. Up close, he was even more revolting. His curious gaze bored into you as if trying to discern why Silco had kept you around. It was sickening. You knew the words you dreaded would eventually come. You didn’t want to think about what Finn would do to you.

“So, you’ve come to fix your mistake? I didn’t think you had any honor.”

In an instant, Silco placed himself between you and Finn. He leaned over the table, his hands pressed firmly against it. Something in his expression made Finn instinctively recoil.

“Insult my honor again. I dare you.”

You shivered at the sound of his voice. You had never heard him threaten someone before. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to experience firsthand. You realized you hadn’t truly known The Eye of Zaun—the man everyone in the undercity feared. He was challenging Finn, and he knew the man wasn’t stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.

The soft sound of a weapon being quietly cocked caught your attention. The idiot tried to do it discreetly, but you heard the faint click he’d attempted to mask by pressing the gun against his body. Your gaze locked onto him, and you furrowed your brow. He flinched slightly under your stare, likely wondering if you’d heard him. Well, your keen hearing had its uses. You shook your head in warning, signaling that it wasn’t worth the risk.

Finn laughed nervously. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket but hesitated to light it, stalling for time. Silco straightened, clearly having won this round.

“Easy there. You’re awfully serious today,” Finn joked, though his voice wavered slightly. “So, what brings you here?”

Silco began to pace slowly around the room. With nothing between you and Finn, you were sure he’d kill you any second. Your courage had evaporated. But trailing after Silco would be pathetic. You focused on the sounds around you, straining to catch conversations from elsewhere, but there was only an eerie silence.

“I’ve been thinking about your career,” Silco said at last. “It’s impressive how quickly you climbed to the top.”

Finn exhaled a puff of smoke, spreading his arms theatrically.

“Am I hearing praise from The Eye of Zaun?”

Silco stopped to give him a look of disdain.

“Crime Lord. Brutal and ruthless—or so they say. Climbed to power over a trail of corpses. Quite the story for someone so young.”

“Should I be flattered or scared that you know so much about me?”

“I don’t care how you feel. It’s fascinating, almost as if… someone helped you.”

You scrutinized Finn for any subtle shifts in his behavior. He didn’t take his eyes off Silco, allowing you to observe him openly. If he was hiding something, he was doing a good job of controlling his body language.

“From what I know, there’s nothing wrong with accepting help. You didn’t invent the shimmer formula on your own, either.”

“Oh, of course. Carefully chosen allies are the foundation of success,” Silco replied dismissively, gazing out the window.

At those words, Finn’s arrogant expression faltered briefly but quickly returned. That was it. Silco had struck a nerve. Whoever Finn’s partner in the upper city was, they must have been someone of great influence, given how carefully their identity was guarded.

“Get to the point, Silco,” Finn said, nearly spitting his name. “I doubt you came here to gush about my accomplishments.”

“You’re right. You’re not as dim as they say.”

Finn’s men shifted, stepping forward, but he waved them off impatiently. Clearly, jokes about his intelligence hit a sore spot.

“Out. All of you,” he barked over his shoulder, waiting for his audience to exit the room. “Don’t push your luck. You may run things in the Lanes, but here, you’re on my turf.”

Silco smiled, a self-satisfied expression that sent chills down your spine.

“Are you threatening me?” he asked softly.

Finn stood and moved behind his chair. You knew the distance made little difference. No matter how far away you got, it would never feel like enough. The problem was that Silco acted as if he wanted a confrontation. You couldn’t tell if it was a grudge from the past or sheer hatred for Finn.

“I haven’t lost my mind yet. Look, I’m not looking for a fight with you.”

"Nobody mentions it here," Silco clasped his hands behind his back and resumed his calm pacing around the room.

You thought you heard voices. The two of them were absorbed in their verbal sparring and paid no attention to you. A group of men had left a door slightly ajar, and the murmur came from there. It was too faint and indistinct to make out any words. You were tempted to move closer but hesitated, unsure if it would arouse suspicion. You fixed your gaze on Silco, hoping that some telepathic miracle would make him understand your intentions. Maybe he really had some sixth sense—or perhaps you'd burned enough holes in his back with your stares that he'd learned to recognize them—because he shot you a brief glance. You discreetly shifted your eyes toward the door, and he gave a slight nod.

"You’re too young to remember how the Undercity came to be. Back when we were merely labor for Piltover." Silco changed the direction of his unhurried strides and took a seat on one of the chairs near Finn.

"Ah, yes. The grand dream of the Nation of Zaun," Finn drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm and boredom. He seemed somewhat reassured that Silco wasn’t steering the conversation toward conflict and relaxed into his chair, lighting another cigarette.

"It doesn’t surprise me. It’s easy to forget Piltover’s crimes when you live off their technology," Silco retorted.

"I don’t see the problem." Finn spread his hands theatrically. "Live in the past all you want. I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth."

Silco chuckled dismissively.

"I don’t doubt it. I’ll keep that in mind."

Finn could play the confident man as much as he wanted, but you could see that Silco’s words had struck a chord. He might despise Silco all he liked, but the need for validation from the Eye of Zaun still lingered in him. Whatever Silco meant by those words left Finn slightly unsettled.

"What do you mean by that?" Finn asked, his bravado faltering.

"Oh, don’t look so concerned. I come with an offer."

Silco was seated with his back to you. You strained your ears to catch more of the murmurs from the other room, but the words remained unintelligible. Your struggle with your senses was interrupted by a sharp snap. Silco had raised his hand, snapping his fingers. Did he just snap at you like you were a dog? You stared at him, shocked. He didn’t turn, merely waiting for you to act. Panic gripped you briefly before you remembered the small box he’d given you.

You retrieved it from your pocket and approached. Clever bastard. He’d given you a reason to get closer and eavesdrop without outright ordering you to play servant. Recalling Sevika’s movements, you mimicked her actions. Finn observed with mild admiration, likely wondering how Silco managed to train his people so well. Still, you couldn’t let this slide, not even as a joke. On your way back, you "accidentally" bumped him with your elbow. He nearly dropped his lit cigar but maintained his composure.

Now closer to the door, you could catch snippets of the conversation, tuning out Silco and Finn’s battle of egos. Tilting your head slightly, you focused on the voices. They were muffled and distorted as if separated by another door.

"I’m telling you, it’s nothing. Calm down! This is the fifth time you’ve brought it up!"

"Nothing? Silco himself comes here, and you’re telling me to calm down?"

"It wasn’t me who reloaded a gun in front of him. Have you lost your mind? What if he heard?"

"It’s suspicious! And his speech… I’m telling you, he knows something."

"You’re talking nonsense. If he knew—now with the boss…"

The distance and the heated exchange between Silco and Finn made it difficult to focus.

"Look, I don’t like it. The boss told us… something’s off."

"Are you seriously planning to run to Piltover with every little issue?"

"You’re calling it a little issue that Silco’s breathing down our necks? Say what you want, but I…"

Your heart skipped a beat. You were so close. But they hadn’t said anything new. Frustration threatened to overwhelm you.

"Fine… but I’m not the one who’ll tell the boss. At least wait until they’re gone."

There was a pause, as if the panicked one was searching for hidden traps in the other’s words.

"Fine. But… if the sheriff starts retaliating, I won’t hesitate… led us to this—"

"Ah, go to hell and stop bothering me!"

You felt the air leave your lungs. Did you just find out who was behind it? "Sheriff" was a vague term and could very well be a codename. After all, you highly doubted it referred to Piltover’s enforcer commander. You’d heard that he was a weak man who fell apart after the death of the previous sheriff, Grayson.

You wavered, overwhelmed by the flood of information and the emotions that came with it. A faint sway pulled you slightly off balance.

"What do you think?" Silco asked suddenly.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Finn was quiet, seemingly searching for an answer, but both their eyes were on you. Blushing slightly, you realized you hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation. Silco’s face revealed nothing.

"I’m not sure I have an opinion," you muttered, striving for neutrality.

"Why am I not surprised," Silco commented, his tone laced with disappointment.

Irritation flared momentarily, but the buzzing in your mind drowned it out.

"I’ll think about it and give you an answer," Finn said, standing, signaling that the discussion should end.

You stopped listening when Silco mentioned some kind of offer. Relief washed over you as the torment seemed to conclude. You wanted to leave as quickly as possible, unable to keep your unease from showing any longer. The two shook hands, and Silco gestured for you to follow. In a different situation, you’d have called him out for it for days, but things were growing increasingly complicated.

"Silco…" you began in a whisper, but he shook his head.

"Not here," he replied softly, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. "Not yet."

You searched your memory for the sheriff’s face, trying to match it to someone you’d seen at the factory, but there weren’t enough details to compare. You kept your thoughts to yourself, waiting patiently until you could speak freely.

Once you passed through the gate into the dark alleyways, Silco grabbed your arm and pulled you aside. Too surprised to resist, you let him lead.

"Listen, I think I know—"

"Take the long way back to The Last Drop. Wait for me in the office."

He was tense, scanning the street as if expecting something inevitable.

"What? No, I’m not leaving you here. Sevika will tear my head off if anything happens to you."

"Go," he said firmly, giving you a light shove. "Finn won’t let this go, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he sends someone after us. Don’t worry about me; it’s you they’ll be looking for."

Blood drained from your face at a dizzying pace. Was the Crime Lord so desperate to mend his ego? Or had he noticed your devotion and wanted to use it to slight Silco? But Silco had been too serious, too concerned when he told you about it. You had no reason to doubt him. You nodded and pulled your scarf up over your face. They probably wouldn’t look for you at such heights. Let’s just hope Sevika understood his approach; otherwise, he’d have to protect you not only from Finn.

***

After parting ways with Silco, you lingered for a moment, observing the valley’s exit, but they could have taken another path just as well. You didn’t want to run into a group of Finn’s armed men, so you quickly left the area, moving across rooftops as high as you could.

You felt like you were sinking even deeper into this mess. Previously, as an anonymous thief, you had a good chance of wriggling out of situations by playing dumb. But now, one of the barons had taken a dangerous interest in you, and only Silco stood between you and him. Ironically, that stupid job Leon had sent you on might have saved your life. It felt like the universe was trying to tell you that leaving Silco was a terrible idea. Maybe if you’d fled far enough, the danger would have passed. If only you could meet Zarys again and squeeze out the truth about the concoction he’d given you…

You wandered the area for another two hours. Silco had probably returned directly to The Last Drop—no one would dare bother him. You envied that, though you wouldn’t want to live under such constant stress. Unfortunately, your days of anonymity were over for good. At times like this, it was easy to forget that even without Finn, death loomed over you. You knew you should tell Silco about that vial, but you didn’t want to give yourself false hope of surviving longer than a week. Nor did you want to see hope flicker in his eyes, only to have it crushed if Zarys turned out to be lying. Silco already reacted so strongly to the thought of your death; you couldn’t be that cruel.

You arrived at The Last Drop well after midnight. Inside, the revelry hadn’t stopped. After all that had happened, you craved nothing more than peace and rest, but the problem couldn’t wait. If you delayed too long, memory would start to fade and twist the words you’d overheard. You’d grown used to people constantly bumping into you, so instead of moving with the crowd, you elbowed your way through. If that’s the only language they understand…

You entered the office without knocking. Silco was studying a map of the city, likely mulling over a plan he’d already begun formulating. He raised his head at the sound of your footsteps, and his worried expression softened briefly.

“Were you followed?”

“I don’t think so. And if I was, they probably got bored halfway,” you yawned and collapsed onto the couch.

It was too comfortable. You felt yourself sinking into it. All it would take was tilting your head back and letting your muscles relax. But the sense of duty jabbed at you, keeping you awake.

“Apologies for my behavior earlier. I hope you understand it was necessary?”

His words surprised you. He seemed genuinely intent on fixing his mistakes. That was… unexpected. Feeling slightly embarrassed, you shifted in place, unsure what to do with your hands. When you were arguing, it was easier to handle, fueled by anger. But now, faced with this fragile sliver of sincerity, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I understand. But considering what I know, I wouldn’t have the energy to argue anyway,” you sighed. “Listen, what I’m about to tell you is just fragments of what I overheard. The conversation was disjointed; I might be wrong about some of it.”

Silco focused entirely on you, waiting for you to continue, but at that moment, the door swung open, and Sevika entered. She held a bottle and wore a grim expression.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen so many of Finn’s men hanging around the bar. Guessing that’s your doing?”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Silco replied calmly. “What do you know?”

You took a deep breath, knowing your next words would permanently alter how you both viewed the problem. If the sheriff really was involved, things were about to get even more complicated.

“I suspect the person Finn’s men were talking about is a sheriff. I don’t know exactly who—they didn’t mention any names. Could it be this sheriff?”

“Marcus?” Sevika asked.

Silco straightened and reached into a drawer, pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to her. When she read it aloud, you too realized it could very well be him.

“‘M. I’ve got what you wanted. Meet me at the docks. —Z.’”

“Z as in Zarys, so M must be… Marcus?” you thought aloud.

“That bastard,” Sevika growled through gritted teeth.

Without a word, she stood and vented her anger on a chair, smashing it against the wall, splintering it into pieces. Silco slowly stepped back from his desk. He said nothing to Sevika, his gaze fixed in a furious glare on a single point. For the first time, you saw true rage in him. What you had previously taken for anger had merely been irritation.

“This doesn’t make sense,” you blurted, sensing they knew more than you. “Why would the sheriff of the Enforcers plan something like this?”

“That remains to be seen. But now, our plan becomes even more dangerous,” he noted quietly.

Something was still missing from this puzzle. Every time you thought you were close to a solution, new facts emerged, muddying the waters even more. Silco was far too composed for such a situation. You could only guess at the battle raging in his mind. He was trying not to lash out, but you could see he was seconds away from exploding. In fact, his forced calm was scarier than outright fury.

“Marcus, sheriff of the Enforcers, not only creating a dangerously potent drug based on shimmer but also having a partner in the Undercity?”

“And to think it’s thanks to Silco that bastard became sheriff,” Sevika sneered.

“What? What do you mean?”

She took a large swig from the bottle before setting it on a cabinet and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Finn isn’t the first person Marcus has worked with,” Silco answered for her. “Because of our arrangement, there are no Enforcers in Zaun. Clearly, he got bored and decided to play both sides.”

“Wait, what now?!”

Sevika chuckled at the look on your face.

“Honestly, I’ll never get tired of watching your reactions. Your naïveté is truly entertaining.”

“Enough,” Silco interrupted irritably. “If you’ve got time for sniping at each other, you’ve got time to think about what comes next.”

Well, you hadn’t signed up for that. Beside you stood an incredibly intelligent man who had proven time and again that he could plan twenty steps ahead, so you might as well leave the thinking to him. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do anyway. The opponents were too powerful for you to want any part in this. But Silco wouldn’t accept that, and you weren’t one to do things halfway.

Marcus could lead you to Zarys. Right now, that mattered to you more than getting rid of the stockpile. Still, you kept your mouth shut—otherwise, they’d accuse you of acting too emotionally again. The closer you got to needing your next dose, the more tempting it became to risk taking that mixture. You owed Silco honesty. He could help you understand the composition of this variant; he had people for that and would probably welcome the relief of no longer needing to hunt for a precursor.

The problem wasn’t that you wanted to keep the sample for yourself. Your defense mechanism had always been escape. You had given up the tower because you were convinced you wouldn’t live to see the matter resolved, and that vial had fallen into your lap as if by divine intervention—or rather, you’d fallen onto it. You couldn’t handle the chaos growing in your heart with every passing minute. If it rose higher and overtook your mind, you knew you’d find the lure of running away stronger than ever.

Now that you were tied to Silco by your addiction, you were compelled to return to him. You feared that if you took the drug and it actually stabilized your addiction, you’d realize that what you felt for Silco was nothing more than another form of dependency. If it turned out that your feelings weren’t genuine but merely dictated by your addiction, everything you had built together would vanish. You wanted to stay out of your own free will, not because shimmer dictated your choices.

You didn’t want to lose this.

Even if it meant staying addicted for the rest of your already short life.

Chapter Text

It turned out Piltover was just as corrupt as you had thought.

Admittedly, it was a radical perspective—to judge an entire city by the actions of one individual—but the upper city did exactly the same to you. After the meeting at the Last Drop, when your head was nodding from exhaustion, you dreaded the idea of postponing your trip to the upper city once again. Funny, you hadn’t thought that in just a month, you’d find yourself there more often than in your entire life before.

For hours, you couldn’t quite believe it: Marcus, the mysterious figure from the warehouse, was behind the production of a new shimmer variant. Wasn’t he the one leading the investigation into Silco? The man was slippery and suspicious. Of course, you had no idea what he looked like; it had never occurred to you to seek him out—why bother? His enforcers were the ones regularly throwing people into Stillwater for the smallest infractions. You’d heard that years ago, after the explosion in the upper city, only Grayson had been able to rein him in; Marcus had wanted to lock all of Zaun in prison.

Those events had cast a shadow over the city, but at the time, you had been too focused on getting back on your feet after your father’s death to care about who the Enforcers were targeting next. Maybe if you’d paid more attention to what was happening right under your nose, you’d have realized sooner why there were fewer guards on the streets or why shimmer production operated so openly.

Well, no point dwelling on the past unless it directly affected you. The most pressing question was: why was Marcus doing this? Why go to such lengths to create something new if it never even reached the market?

Sevika had been a little outraged when she found out Silco had suggested future collaboration with Finn to buy time. You couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t like Silco to do such a thing. Then again, Finn’s ego would now soar, and maybe he’d spill more information in hopes of gaining some privilege. More likely, though, Silco would kill him personally once there was enough evidence of his involvement in the production of the variant.

For now, beyond knowing he had ties to Marcus and oversaw meetings in Zaun, you didn’t have much. There wasn’t enough evidence to accuse him of stealing shimmer from the factories or manufacturing it himself.

Your head throbbed from the overload of information, and there was less time left until the meeting in Piltover than you’d thought. Delaying further was pointless. Silco would come up with another ridiculous plan requiring your involvement, and the meeting deadline would pass. It was hard to manage personal matters when your boss didn’t know the meaning of rest. Still, you knew what you’d signed up for, and complaining wasn’t your style. Maybe that’s why Sevika had told you to sever all ties and wrap up your affairs—she knew you wouldn’t have time for them.

The lack of sleep was the least of your problems. If Finn was working with Marcus, he was probably also behind your arrest. Maybe Marcus had promised him something, or Finn thought your capture would pay for his help. Either way, the Enforcers had your information, and you could be arrested at any moment. Silco was right—as usual, damn him—and his advice to avoid bridges was rational. But it was advice, not an order. By now, he must have realized you ignored orders you deemed senseless. Honestly, how he still had the patience for you was a mystery.

Unfortunately, you had to disregard this particular suggestion. You were taking another risk, but the property issue needed to be resolved. Silco’s last dose was waiting for you, and if you weren’t planning to use Zarys’s concoction, you had to act quickly. You were practically inviting another arrest with your behavior. But after spending your whole life in the heights, you weren’t about to get caught on the streets.

You understood the logic of avoiding Piltover. If Finn’s man had indeed reported to Marcus, the sheriff might be on high alert. But Silco was careful not to reveal that he knew about the production. From the outside, the meeting had seemed strictly business, even if you hadn’t been invited.

At best, Marcus would dismiss the warning. If the rumors about him were true, that was likely. After all, the darkest place is right under the lamp. No one expected you to waltz into Piltover the very next day as if you owned the place.

And yet, there you were on the bridge before sunrise. Others might call it arrogance, but you knew they wouldn’t even notice you slipping through. All it took was climbing the nearest building and vanishing from their sight. You needed to be in the upper city before dawn.

You crossed the bridge during the guard shift change. Some guards were asleep, others heading back to wake the rest. For the first time, you felt a twinge of fear toward the Enforcers. Or rather, a fear of being caught.

Luckily for you, it started to rain halfway across. The drumming sound masked your footsteps. As the rain turned into a downpour, the curtain of water made it easier to stay hidden. Hopefully, shimmer boosted your immunity because you’d be welcoming a cold after this excursion.

Your soaked clothes clung to your skin, and Piltover’s straight, well-kept walls were nothing like Zaun’s crooked, decayed structures. Climbing to any roof was impossible. Worst case, you’d break into a shop and wait inside. Hopefully, she’d understand... hopefully.

Despite your worries, you reached her shop within minutes, just as the sun began to peek between the buildings. You cursed under your breath. Now it would be harder to pick the lock, and the risk of being spotted was higher. The main door was locked, and you didn’t want anyone catching you fiddling with it. Sticking to the shadows, you circled the building and found a side door, likely the back entrance.

Shaking your head, you pressed the handle, and the door opened quietly. That wouldn’t fly in the lower city. You slipped inside, knowing full well the owner had every right to call the guards. Still, you hoped for understanding.

You were soaked to the bone, and the constant lack of proper sleep was taking its toll. You were doing this to yourself. You could be lying under a blanket, waiting for the next task to come your way, but no—you just had to come today.

The shop looked the same as last time: full of dusty books, smelling of wood and paper. Pleasant, but it quickly irritated your throat. Lacking other options, you walked to the front door and struck the bell above it.

Less than five minutes later, you heard quick footsteps descending. The woman peeked through a beaded curtain and sighed with relief. She was wearing a thick robe—apparently, you’d dragged her out of bed. Well, that wasn’t the first thing you’d have to apologize for.

“I thought I locked those doors,” she murmured as she moved quickly through the shop.

She went to the door and tugged at the handle, surprised to find it securely locked.

“I came in through the back,” you said, gesturing with your thumb toward the corridor behind you. She glanced in that direction and waved dismissively.

"I didn’t expect you this early," she yawned and rubbed her eyes. At the sight of your soaked clothes, she raised an eyebrow. "I know my letter was sudden, but you didn’t have to rush here in this weather."

You chuckled softly.

"I'm afraid I wouldn’t have time in a few days. You wanted to talk about the property, right?"

"Rosalie. But call me Rosie."

She wrapped her robe tighter around herself and started walking towards the back, dragging her feet slightly. She waved a hand for you to follow. Shrugging, you went after her. You had been curious about what was behind the beaded curtain, but with mild disappointment, you saw only a narrow spiral staircase leading upward.

For her age — though you didn’t actually know how old she was — she moved quite quickly. She left you at the top of the stairs and disappeared into one of the rooms. You realized you were in her apartment. The air was filled with a sweet scent that made your stomach growl loudly. To think all of this was just for her. You had always made do with a tiny room where fitting everything was almost impossible.

As you walked slowly down the hallway, you glimpsed her bedroom through a slightly open door and felt a twinge of envy at the sight of the spacious bed.

"Are you hungry?" her voice came from another room, and before you could answer, she added, "Why am I even asking? Of course, you are."

She emerged from what was likely the kitchen, carrying a small tray with a pitcher and plates. She looked at you expectantly, and you understood that you were meant to join her.

You hadn’t known what to expect from the mysterious library owner, but it certainly wasn’t an energetic woman with a rather intense gaze. With that kind of determination, she could have handled herself easily in Zaun, so why had she left?

You entered a cozy living room. Rosie was setting cups on a round table, humming under her breath. Since you’d arrived, something about this place had unsettled you, and finally, it dawned on you: there were people who lived without the constant threat of death hanging over them. Must be nice.

You sat in an empty chair, feeling exhaustion spread through your body. It was warm, and the tea smelled fruity. Whatever she intended to serve would surely taste wonderful. She sat opposite you with a heavy sigh and reached for the pitcher.

"You wanted to talk about the property, right?"

You took a sip of the tea, knowing you’d remember its flavor for days. Nodding, you reached behind you and placed the deed on the table.

"I don’t understand why you did it."

For a moment, you thought your gesture had been taken the wrong way, but her face showed pure curiosity. It had been easier to explain this to Sevika. You pushed your cup aside, choosing your words carefully.

"I got this deed… don’t ask how. I don’t entirely understand it myself. It was, in a way, a gift. I used to visit this place when it was abandoned, imagining it might someday be mine. But when it was, I didn’t know what to do with it. So, I decided to give it to someone who had once owned it."

As you spoke, your thoughts began to align. Any lingering doubts started to fade. You felt certain this was the right decision.

"But… why? Maybe it’s not safe in the undercity, and there’s always the risk of theft, but why give it away? Why not sell it?"

What could you say to that? You studied her face, weighing how much of the truth you could reveal. Nothing you said would be tied to Marcus or that whole filthy mess. Wasn’t it easier to confess some things to strangers?

"Everyone talks about money," you replied with a crooked smile. "I used to think that way too, but… I’m dying. And I’m not sure there’s any way out of it. So what use do I have for this?"

Rosie’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. A strange chill began to creep through your body, and it wasn’t from your wet clothes. It was something else.

"Oh, my dear…"

Seeing her genuine shock and concern made your situation fully hit you. You could joke about it with Silco, but only now, witnessing the sadness in her eyes, could you truly understand his perspective. You were dying. Every day, a little more. And the one thing keeping you alive was slipping away. It was overwhelming. You shook your head, searching for a joke, but you couldn’t treat it lightly anymore.

"Don’t look at me like that. I’ve already come to terms with it."

"There must be something that can be done!" she began to panic, despite barely knowing you. "There are doctors who—"

"Rosie, don’t," you replied softly. "What other questions do you have?"

She was so shocked that it took her a moment to process your words. Well, it wasn’t every day someone handed you a building as a gift while revealing they were dying. Was it easier with Silco because you didn’t believe he could genuinely care? She fidgeted nervously, picking at the edge of a slice of plum cake on a plate.

"You wrote… you wrote that children in Zaun don’t have a proper school. Am I correct in assuming you’d want one there?"

"No," you shook your head. "Not necessarily. I never had access to knowledge myself, but if there’s a chance that it could help narrow the gap between the undercity and Piltover, then I think it’s worth considering. Even if it’s just books for them."

Rosie pulled out a notebook and started jotting down details. For a while, she tapped her pen on the paper, leaving small dots next to her words. You didn’t want her to see how deeply your own words had affected you, but before you got lost in thought, you needed to see this through.

"Listen, don’t give it back to me. Stay the owner, and I’ll handle the rest. You shouldn’t be left with nothing."

"Rosie, I’ve never owned anything, so I won’t exactly miss it," you laughed. "Please don’t look so serious, or you’ll make my hair stand on end."

She sighed heavily but relented. Pouring herself more tea, she stared at the rain outside the window.

You felt the weight of guilt looming around the corner, regret for the way you’d brushed off Silco’s genuine concern. Him, who rarely showed emotion. Now you understood why he reacted so angrily to your jokes. Would you ever stop owing him?

"Your letter will suffice to complete the transfer of ownership; don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. When I invited you here, I didn’t expect it to turn into something so heavy, but… You said it was a gift. May I ask how that came about?"

"Hm," you murmured, thinking of how to tell her without revealing it involved Silco. "I saved someone’s life. Someone influential, and this was how they showed their gratitude."

It was the driest, most evasive answer you could give, but you couldn’t tell her the truth.

"You're probably the most laconic person I know," she snorted. "But I get it; sometimes it's better not to ask too many questions about acquaintances. I don’t know who this friend of yours is, but they must value you greatly to make such a gesture."

"Or they just don't know how to say thank you," you muttered.

"I’ve never met anyone from Zaun who’d give something like that without expecting something in return. You're holding a place worth a small fortune. Are you sure you won't get into trouble for handing it over to me?"

"If you're worried about having someone dangerous breathing down your neck, you can relax. I know what I'm doing. He said I could do whatever I wanted with it."

Rosie no longer looked concerned about your condition but rather worried about the trouble she might be walking into by accepting the property. Honestly, you wouldn’t blame her if she refused.

"Well, it seems you're important to him."

You lifted your head from your cup to look at her, questioning. There was something strange in her tone, but in your tired state, you couldn’t quite grasp what she might mean. Glancing at your watch, you were surprised to see you'd been at her place for two hours. If Sevika found out you’d come here, she wouldn’t let you hear the end of it. Still, unless she’d been tailing you from the moment you left your room, there was no way she could know.

"I have to go," you said abruptly, standing up quickly to avoid dwelling on Rosie’s words any longer. "Really, the place is entirely yours."

You ran down the stairs, her words echoing in the emptiness of your mind. Guilt clawed at you, demanding attention. You felt genuinely ashamed for never reflecting on Silco’s behavior toward you. You were always taking and demanding from him, thinking he owed you something because his actions had hurt you. But it never crossed your mind that change doesn’t happen overnight. You expected him to turn everything upside down for you and hand you the solution on a silver platter. Yes, he cared about your health. For heaven’s sake, he scoured every corner for a cure. He wanted you to stay willingly, not out of obligation. You wanted that too, but you knew you still had a long way to go.

It was as if the universe was screaming at you to run from him at all costs. Yet, instead of listening, you fought that idea with all your might. You could have sold the building, secured money for your escape, and yet you gave it to Rosie, fully aware you were cutting yourself off from those means and resigning yourself to going back to him. Just when you'd accepted the idea of leaving this world, Zarys unexpectedly offered a potential solution. It all hinged on whether you’d choose to trust him.

Even so, you hesitated to take the drug. Ironically, it could grant you the life you wanted, yet the very thought of it filled you with resistance. You kept telling yourself you were ready to die, but it became increasingly clear that wasn’t true—not if it meant being apart from Silco. Funny how your actions contradicted your declarations of indifference toward death. Chaotic thoughts swirled in your head, refusing to align with logic or order.

Deep down, you knew you didn’t truly want to leave him. On the contrary, you searched for every excuse to justify staying by his side. And yet the unease lingered. Was it really you who felt something for Silco, or was shimmer manipulating your emotions, painting him in a false light? The answer was within reach—take the new version of the drug and confirm if your thoughts were truly your own. But it was easier to blame shimmer. The truth was more frightening: admitting to yourself that you genuinely felt something for Silco would bind you to him forever, no matter the circumstances. Even if you were healthy, you knew you wouldn’t leave him for anything.

It was strange—you could be honest with yourself, but not with him. In your thoughts, you could acknowledge the truth, push it aside, bury it deep in your consciousness, and pretend it didn’t exist. But if you spoke those words aloud, letting them hang in the air, everything would change. You’d have to watch his face shift with every word you said. You knew that if you were wrong—if you misjudged your feelings or his reaction—nothing would ever return to normal. You’d be forced to leave, knowing you’d suffer without being able to come back.

It happened faster than you expected. Lost in thought, you failed to pay attention to where you were going. You slipped into the crowd crossing the bridge, hoping that by hunching your shoulders, you wouldn’t attract the guards' attention. You couldn’t focus on your surroundings as his words came rushing back to you—the ones he said before meeting Finn. He wasn’t good at honesty, but for you, he’d tried. Damn it, why did conversations grow harder with each passing day?

Somehow, you managed to cross the bridge. You hid behind a small cart with empty crates, careful not to move too quickly. Once you were sure you wouldn’t get caught even if you broke into a run, you picked up your pace and pulled your hood tighter over your head. The rain had stopped, but the weather remained cold and gray. No one wanted to work on such a day, especially outside. You immediately turned toward home, unconcerned if anyone was following you. You needed rest before your exhausted mind decided that panic was an interesting flavor to savor for days on end.

You threw your backpack somewhere on the floor, ready to collapse fully clothed, but you didn’t want to risk catching a cold. You were halfway through pulling off your damp shirt when someone suddenly barged into your room. In an instant, a knife was in your hand, and before you even thought, you flung it toward the door.

Sevika stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the knife swaying menacingly just inches from her head. Damn it, you’d reacted with that speed again. It was both fascinating and terrifying. Damn it, you could have killed someone!

"What the hell was that?!" she snarled, slamming the door behind her.

"I told you this was another mutation, but you didn’t believe me," you snapped back. "By the way, maybe you could finally learn to knock, huh?"

"I’ll do that when you realize your behavior could cause more problems than you think! What were you thinking?"

"What are you talking about?"

Sevika looked at you, both surprised and irritated.

"Why the hell did you go there, huh? Couldn’t you wait until things calmed down?"

You froze, probably even paled slightly. Had she been following you? No, that wasn’t possible...

"How do you know?" you asked, immediately biting your tongue because that question was as good as admitting guilt.

"Because, like an idiot, you left a letter out in the open! I came to tell you about an assignment tonight, and I found this!"

She yelled, pointing to the note from Rosie. Damn it, you hadn’t thought anyone would come looking for you. Then again, only Sevika felt bold enough to barge into your room uninvited. After Monty finally left the place—hopefully not for the other side—a few people thanked you for contributing to his release. You were sure no one else would dare snoop around your room.

"Yes, I went. I had to finalize that matter."

"And it had to be today? Marcus could be planning his next move, and you waltz into the snake pit without telling anyone!"

"You wanted me to tell you I was going there?"

Sevika paced nervously, making the small room feel even smaller.

"I don’t care what you do with that building, but if you’re going to the Upper City, you could’ve told me, don’t you think? Silco trusts you, and I’m trying to as well, but why do you always have to go off script with these stunts?"

"I guess I don’t understand you. You’re not mad I went?"

"I’m trying not to be. I’m used to you doing whatever you want. I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t harm us. Maybe I’m not your direct superior anymore, but if you don’t want to tell Silco about this, you can tell me."

You stared at her blankly, trying to process her words, but something about her behavior felt off. You were convinced she saw Silco’s words as orders, and your escapade would be another mark of insubordination. You were probably causing her plenty of trouble with your secrets. She helped you, even though she didn’t have to. She voluntarily kept the letters to herself. You sat on the bed, burying your face in your hands. She trusted you based on Silco’s judgment. She trusted his opinion so much that she didn’t hesitate to believe you were trustworthy too.

"I’m sorry. I made a mistake. You’re right; I should’ve told you. I’m sorry."

Sevika stopped in her tracks, slightly thrown off by your sudden apology. She sighed heavily, rubbing the back of her neck as if she hadn’t slept in days either.

"We’re good, don’t worry. Just don’t do it again. Did you get it done?"

"I think so. I guess it’s finally over."

"Good," she nodded, reaching for the doorknob but hesitating for a moment. "You look like crap. Get some sleep; Silco wants to see you tonight."

The mention of his name made your stomach twist.

"Another assignment, huh?" you stopped her with your question halfway through opening the door.

"Yes," she replied, not turning back as she added, "Silco trusts you more than I thought. Don’t screw it up."

Chapter Text

Waking up with the feeling that the inevitable was approaching was worse than several sleepless nights in a row. Your head felt heavy, not just from restless thoughts. You woke up with a wet cheek and a faint sting behind your eyes. Outside, the evening was slowly setting in. You felt the remnants of the panic that had ripped you from your sleep. For a moment, you couldn’t figure out what was happening, but then you remembered—you had a task waiting for you.

You’d be happier about it if not for the gnawing hunger in your stomach and your body’s desperate craving for the drug. You knew that in two or three days, the pain would become unbearable, and Silco had the last dose. Whatever he had in mind when he said to meet him in the evening—seriously, why did he always summon you in the evening?—you still had a little time.

You pulled the vial from under your bed, studying it. You turned it over in your hands and only now noticed faint markings on the glass. Almost rubbed away, but the scratches were still visible—something like a sequence of numbers and letters. Probably how Zarys marked his vials. You held a solution to your problems in your hands, yet you didn’t want to use it unless you had to. If only you could find Zarys and force him to talk...

Well, either way, Silco needed to know. Even if he was against taking an unverified product, you could ask him to have someone analyze it. If he had anyone he trusted enough for such a task. You sighed, standing up, your limbs feeling numb. It was yet another burden you had to bear. The person analyzing it would need to be trustworthy—not someone who’d steal the formula for themselves. You felt painfully responsible, knowing that if the vial fell into the wrong hands, you’d end up with another Marcus. And the new producer might not be as discreet, flooding Zaun with the stuff. By telling Silco, you’d spare him a lot of headaches and sleepless nights.

You felt terrible for downplaying his concern. He definitely deserved more than just your gratitude after everything he’d done for you. But the mere thought of raising his hopes, only for the vial to turn out to contain nothing more than colored water, was unbearable. You’d probably take it yourself without hesitation; you didn’t believe in its authenticity anyway. But you couldn’t do that to Silco. The pain in his voice when he’d told you how little of the drug remained haunted you.

Yet the longer you delayed, the more anger you risked facing. No, anger you could handle. Disappointment in you would be far worse. Silco trusted you; you shouldn’t and didn’t want to break that. But this solution was too uncertain to voice aloud. No, you needed more evidence before you brought it up.

Dwelling on it wouldn’t help and would only complicate things further. There was no point in waiting any longer. You swiped an appetizing-looking sandwich from the kitchen, hoping they weren’t counted, and stepped outside. You pulled up the collar of your jacket, glad you’d kept it despite its sorry state. The air was still cold, but at least you didn’t feel rain on your face. For the first time in months, you felt like the air was cleaner while standing firmly on the ground.

The path to the Last Drop was, as usual, different this time. It was a habit now, one that let you sleep peacefully at night. You were tangled up in a conflict between truly dangerous people, and you didn’t want to make things worse for yourself. Maybe you really were acting too impulsively. You hoped Rosie wouldn’t take your sudden disappearance personally, but her words had brought certain thoughts to the surface too quickly. Would talking to him be harder now that your thoughts were starting to drift toward certain feelings? Would you be able to look him in the eye and think clearly?

Of course not, but you had to try.

At the Last Drop, the party was in full swing, as always, but you were beginning to find some comfort in it. It was one of the few constants. You knew that whenever you came here, it would always be loud and crowded. You needed these stable elements to stay sane. You were also becoming something of a fixture here since they no longer paid you much attention. You preferred not to be remembered, but you couldn’t deny that you came here quite often.

Too often, apparently, since you reached Silco’s office on autopilot. You had to press your forehead against the wall for a moment as a strange wave of emotion washed over your heart. Something like...comfort. You were growing attached to this place, and leaving would be harder. Leave, die… now it’s all the same.

You entered without knocking. It was easier not to announce your presence, but Silco always knew it was you; you moved quietly. If not for the slightly creaky door, you could have entered unnoticed even if he were sitting nearby. As usual, Silco was in his standard position, working on something. What it was—you preferred not to know. If that kind of work interested you, you wouldn’t have taken up thievery.

"Sevika said you had a task for me."

He nodded and straightened slightly. You could see his thoughts circling problems. No surprise—just a day earlier, he’d learned that someone he deemed too weak to rebel was behind the production of a new variant of shimmer.

"How long until your next dose?"

You stiffened slightly as guilt loomed on the horizon. You flinched slightly, trying to shake it off, but it settled firmly in your mind, refusing to leave. He stood, slowly rounding the desk and leaning against it. You think you preferred having a piece of furniture between you rather than just air.

"I thought you kept notes on that," you joked, but his expression didn’t invite humor. "Two or three days. Why?"

"Just as I thought. The task involves breaking in and, potentially, theft."

You grinned widely. Finally, something you were practically built for. That’s what they hired you for, and you’d started to miss the thrill of picking locks and sneaking into places you shouldn’t be.

"I like the sound of that. Where am I breaking into?"

Silco’s lips curled into a faint smile as he reached behind himself for some document.

"How are you with tougher locks?"

"I’ve never had the chance to break into a bank if that’s what you’re asking, but I’ve never failed yet."

"Good. Your target is in the upper city."

The excitement drained away. You looked at him suspiciously, searching for the catch.

"You can’t be serious. Wasn’t I supposed to stay far away from Piltover?"

"We both know you ignore my orders, so I might as well make use of it."

He was far too calm for a conversation about stealing something from the upper city. No wonder he’d mentioned tough locks. You knew he had some brilliant plan in mind and needed your skills to pull it off. You loved challenges, and he’d clearly picked up on that, which is why he deliberately provoked you into taking on difficult tasks. He knew you’d agree.

"And what about Marcus and his men?"

He tilted his head slightly, smiling savagely. You were liking this less and less, and for the first time, you wondered if it wouldn’t be wiser to refuse.

"If you’re as good as you claim, that shouldn’t be a problem for you."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Archie had done a good job, and the result of his work was genuinely satisfying, but that was only half the battle. You could carry a fake ID with you all you wanted, but you wouldn’t just waltz into a prison waving it around and expect anyone to believe you. You needed more. Your plan assumed you’d miraculously come across a lone guard who happened to wear the same size as you, manage to subdue him, and steal his uniform.

You loved plans in theory—they were easy. But now, standing near the queue for Stillwater, nothing seemed simple. The place was swarming with guards. You didn’t know their patterns, and none of them appeared inclined to break away from their groups. Getting a disguise was becoming increasingly difficult. To make matters worse, the pain behind your eyes was intensifying faster than you had anticipated. The more it hurt, the more you wanted to rescue Lacey and return for the drug, so you’d never have to consume that sweet poison again.

You knew that woman was the key to answers. Someone like Zarys had to know more about Marcus’s plans. You were still searching for answers as to why the sheriff was dirtying his hands with smuggling, but none of the answers felt right. Shimmer was a drug—it enslaved people and made fortunes. What was the point of producing it just to store barrels of it underground? Was he planning to destroy Silco’s factories and start selling it himself? No, he wouldn’t have created a new strain then. To find out, you had to get Lacey out of prison.

The problem was the idiots near the shore were clustering together, chatting instead of patrolling. Maybe you should have looked for an opportunity closer to Piltover? Suddenly, one of them adjusted his weapon belt and made a move as if to leave. You tensed, ready to follow, but he only stepped away to use the shore as a toilet. You sighed in disappointment. You braced yourself for hours of waiting for an opening. The first hour was passing, and none of them had moved even a step inland.

Shifting your weight onto your other foot, you tried not to make any noise. The wind was blowing towards the water, so any sound you made could be overheard. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed your hood and began dragging you in the opposite direction. You struggled, knowing that if it was one of the guards, you’d be caught with a fake ID in your possession. It was hard to break free when your feet had no leverage. Unfortunately for him, he grabbed your jacket’s hood. You raised your hands, letting it slip off, and quickly got up, ready to flee. But it wasn’t a guard.

“Sevika? What the hell are you doing here?” you asked in a half-whisper.

She looked surprised at the jacket in her hand, then tossed it back to you with a strange grimace on her face.

“I forgot that catching you is like holding a fish. You always slip away,” she said, setting down a heavy-looking bag from her shoulder.

“What’s this?”

“You tell me,” she replied, sounding slightly tired.

You reached for the knot, hearing something clink inside. Inside were pieces of a guard’s uniform. You looked up, genuinely surprised.

“How did you know I was looking for this?”

The pants seemed a bit short, but no one was likely to notice.

“I didn’t. Silco told me to bring it to you.”

You froze halfway through trying on the boots. Pushing the items away, you felt Sevika waiting for specific answers.

“I’m guessing you won’t let me leave without explaining, right?”

“For once, something smart came out of your mouth,” she replied sharply. “What are you up to this time?”

You wondered briefly if Sevika would accept another evasive answer, but this time hiding behind Silco’s decisions wasn’t an option. What was he scheming? He’d outright said he couldn’t and wouldn’t help you. So why this gesture? It drastically helped you and shortened the time needed to find a disguise, but if this option existed, why hadn’t he told you about it upfront? Not the first time, huh.

Ah, fuck this, you thought. Sooner or later, she’d figure it out herself. Better she heard it all from you than picking it up from rumors or half-truths.

“I plan to break into the prison and get someone out.”

She opened her mouth, raising her hands as if to strangle you, but let it go and turned away slightly.

“I know Silco sometimes has questionable ideas, but even he wouldn’t give you such a task, so stop lying and tell me the whole truth.”

What was it with people and honesty? You sighed and leaned your back against the side of a container. You were biting off more than you could chew. You needed rest, but the longer you delayed, the more likely the craving would take over.

“You’re right, he didn’t. It’s my idea.”

“And he agreed to it?”

“Not exactly. He knows about it but refused to get involved. So, it’s kind of a rogue operation.”

Sevika made a strange noise and walked a little distance away, pulling a cigarette from her pocket. Funny how you suddenly didn’t feel so restrained about speaking. Too bad it didn’t happen during your conversation with him. Or maybe that conversation unlocked something in you?

“Are you completely out of your mind?” she asked, trying not to shout. “What possessed you to do this?”

You shrugged.

“Listen, I’d love to tell you everything I know, but after this mission. I can’t wait any longer. The person in that prison is Zarys’s wife. I believe she’ll lead us to him and uncover Marcus’s plans.”

“Now I see why he didn’t want to agree to this,” she muttered, crushing the cigarette stub under her boot. “This is the dumbest decision you’ve made since I’ve known you.”

“You can think whatever you want, but unless you plan to stop me by force, there’s nothing you can do. I’ll do it with or without your approval.”

She shook her head, biting her lip as if restraining herself from dragging you back by your hair. You knew she was conflicted because her boss was hiding something from her, but that was between them. If she asked, you’d gladly answer, but you didn’t want to confide in her unprompted.

“When exactly did you come up with this crazy idea? Why now? Why so suddenly?”

So, confiding was unavoidable after all. You slumped to the ground, feeling exhaustion win over, and verbal sparring no longer entertained you like it usually did.

“Silco questioned my loyalty. I visited him today to have an honest discussion about a certain solution,” you raised your head and looked her straight in the eyes. “I currently possess a solution for my addiction. If I’m correct, taking it will mean I won’t need to drink that crap every week. Of course, the first thing he asked was if I planned to leave, despite all my efforts to show him I want to stay. With him. With you all.”

Sevika listened to your response, the wrinkles on her forehead deepening with each passing moment. You could put yourself in her shoes—it was information you were struggling to digest, so for her, it must have been even more incomprehensible.

“I should lock the two of you up somewhere until you finally sort this out,” she groaned in frustration. “So what now? You’re just letting your pride take over and trying to prove something to him? You realize that if you get caught, you can forget about any help, right?”

“That’s exactly what he told me before I left.”

“And you still want to go through with this?”

Well, no risk, no reward.

“This is something I have to do. I don’t know how else to show him that I care,” you replied, leaning your head against the wall.

Honesty seemed so much easier when it wasn’t about him. It was easier to confide in Sevika because she didn’t hold back when telling you exactly what she thought. Or maybe you were just too tired of pretending not to care.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe with words?” she quipped sarcastically. “How the hell did you manage to complicate everything so much in a single day?”

You chuckled softly.

“As it happens, I’m trying to straighten things out, but he just doesn’t get it. Look, I love our little chats, but I don’t have time for this right now. So, either tell me what you want to know or let me work in peace.”

Sevika suddenly leaned in close, towering over you. The move caught you off guard, and you flinched slightly, but there was nowhere to run.

“This mess you’re making affects the entire team,” she growled. “I don’t care about your reasons for fighting with each other, but because of it, I have more work than I’d like. So no, I’m not letting you go through with this until you tell me everything. The idea is insane enough as it is, so the further away you are from it, the better.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, brushing sand off your pants. For a moment, you considered asking her for a cigarette.

“Fine, what do you want to know?”

Your sudden resignation took her by surprise, but she quickly regained her composure.

“What happened today?”

“Just don’t interrupt me like you always do,” you warned her. “The task he gave me was a break-in. Into Marcus’s house. I wanted to refuse when he said he was coming with me, but you know he never listens to anyone. I found confirmation in the sheriff’s office that the vial I got from Zarys is safe and…”

“What vial?”

You gave her a pointed look, but she didn’t care about your annoyance. Well, you owed her honesty too. This was becoming exhausting.

“I said I’d explain everything tomorrow or another day, so stop interrupting me now. I got it from him in the factory after I followed him. And today, I found proof that this version is safe. According to him, I might not need additional doses to survive. Besides that, Marcus had files on Zarys’s wife. It took me a while, but I figured out that if I free her, Zarys will lose the only reason keeping him tied to Marcus. Surely you can see the logic in that, right?”

She observed you for a moment, searching for signs of madness. Finally, she sighed heavily and shook her head.

“You’re crazy—I’ve known that for a long time. But reluctantly, I have to admit that this is some kind of plan. Still, you won’t be able to single-handedly break out someone Marcus personally put in prison. It’ll take days to plan such an operation. You don’t know the cell layout or patrol patterns. You’ll get caught the moment you set foot in the prison.”

“Are you worried about me?” you teased, attempting to ease the tension, though it didn’t work well. “Silco washed his hands of this,” you continued. “He warned me that he wouldn’t help if I got caught. Right now, the only thing that matters is that he didn’t forbid me from doing it. You don’t have to help me either—just don’t get in my way.”

Sevika kicked the bag at her feet, nodding toward it.

“And yet, he told me to bring you this. As if I didn’t have bigger problems than delivering your disguises.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” you sighed. “Look, the day’s about to start. I’m exhausted and want to get this done before I collapse.”

“Why now? Give it a rest. Prepare a proper plan, and then act.”

“Sevika, I can’t,” you whispered, pained. “I left that drug with him and told him I’d return with Lacey. I can’t back out now. In a few hours, I might not even be able to move. I don’t want to take that crap again.”

It was hard for Sevika to understand your perspective. You didn’t blame her. She thought rationally and prioritized the mission’s success. Your personal problems with Silco shouldn’t affect it, yet somehow, everything seemed to revolve around them.

“If he doubted your loyalty, he would’ve left you to deal with this alone. And yet, he sent me here, even though he knows exactly what I think of your stupid ideas. I don’t know why, but I think you do.”

You walked a few steps away, clasping your hands behind your neck.

“That’s the problem—I don’t know,” you admitted. “I went to him today because something happened that really messed with my head, but it also helped me understand a few things. I wanted to tell him. I tried, but when I do, it feels like he’s trying to push me away at all costs, like my words mean nothing to him. Maybe I’m acting impulsively, but right now, I don’t see any other way to show him I’m not planning to leave. I just want him to finally understand.”

“Gods… damn it, I was hoping I was wrong and just imagining things, but it seems I’ve been right from the start. You’re both complete idiots. And yes, I’m including Silco.”

It was easy for her to say. Observing a problem was one thing; being part of it was an entirely different experience. You glanced at her, at her agitated expression, and wondered if it was worth continuing this conversation or if you should walk away before you said something you’d regret. His erratic decisions still gnawed at you, but there was no time to analyze them. If she was going to let you go, she needed to understand your position fully.

“Call me stupid or crazy, but I really feel something for him. I know you can see it. I don’t know what to call it. Not yet. I know it’s incredibly reckless to even think about it now, but I lost control over it a long time ago. I might as well admit it now and get it over with.”

Sevika suddenly appeared beside you and, without warning, gave you a sharp smack on the back of the head.

“You’ve completely lost it. Tell him that, not me.”

You held your head, shielding it with your hands. Her sudden attack completely snapped you out of your self-pity, and honestly, you wanted to hit her back.

"What was that for? I'm trying to be honest with you!"

"I don’t fucking care!" she yelled back. "I don’t care about your honesty. Don’t put this on me just because you’re losing your head and can’t act like an adult around him. Seriously, didn’t your mother teach you why you have a tongue in your mouth?"

Sevika always had a knack for strange comparisons that didn’t quite fit the conversation, but those words stuck with you for a moment. She was irritated, but you couldn’t respond with equal anger because you knew she was right.

"Why are you telling me this? It's also his fault we can’t have a proper conversation."

"I told him that!" she snapped, losing the last shred of her patience. She stepped back and took a deep breath. "Literally an hour ago, I pointed out how unreasonable he’s acting. He thinks I don’t notice how he looks at you when you’re not watching or how his expression changes when we talk about you. Sometimes it makes me sick."

You choked on air, staring at her in genuine fear. Her bluntness was going to be the death of you one day.

"He… what?"

"I can’t deal with you two anymore," she groaned. "Don’t pretend you don’t know. This is turning into one big farce, but today you’ve outdone yourselves."

Her words refused to fully sink in. Silco looking at you? The same Silco who pushed you away every time you tried to be honest with him? No, she had to be mistaken.

"Don’t act as his messenger. If there’s something he wants to say to me, he should open his mouth and do it himself."

"Oh, believe me, I’m not doing this willingly. You both act like enemies while being drawn to each other at every turn. Get over it or let it go. I can’t take his moods any longer."

The audacity! You raised an eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of coldness and amusement.

"Oh no, I’m not taking responsibility for him too. It’s enough that my feelings are a mess. At least I have control over myself."

She suddenly burst into laughter, the kind that made you want to sink into the ground in shame if not for the irritation building up inside you.

"You? In control? Don’t make me laugh. You can’t take your eyes off him, and it’s as clear as day. Honestly, I’m shocked he hasn’t noticed yet. Stop playing games and deal with it before your unresolved issues ruin all the progress we’ve made."

You were breathing heavily, clenching your fists, ready to retaliate, but her evident mockery made you feel like an insect under her boot. Sevika only saw part of the problem. Your obvious attraction to him wasn’t enough to make you sacrifice truth for physicality. God, no! That’s not what this was about. You didn’t want a fling with your boss.

You wanted Silco.

You wanted him, but only if it was mutual. You knew holding this in any longer was pointless; you had no intention of begging for his attention—not anymore. Sevika was pacing impatiently, waiting for your response. Now, with confirmation that he might feel something for you, all your emotions came flooding back. You couldn’t think of a reason why Sevika would lie, but it still felt absurd. Sure, you couldn’t stop watching him, but not once had you seen anything resembling what she described.

"Listen, it doesn’t matter now. I’m not going back to him empty-handed. Think whatever you want, but I can’t make this decision knowing I still have that shimmer in my blood. You’re blaming me for everything as if it’s up to me what happens. I told him as clearly as I could that I want to stay, but he ignored it. Do you have anything else to throw at me, or can I get back to work now?"

"You’re not getting out of this so easily," she suddenly growled. "Silco’s been neglecting his duties because instead of focusing on the job, he keeps circling back to you in conversations. I don’t even remember the last time something wasn’t about you. I’m sick of it. I told him to get a grip, but of course, he didn’t listen. I thought maybe you had more sense, but you’re just as stubborn as he is. So yes, I’m blaming you. Sort it out with him—sleep with him if you have to—but this has to end. One of you needs to finish this."

She turned on her heel and walked away, frustrated, leaving you with a head full of conflicting thoughts. Yes, you wanted to resolve everything with him after freeing Lacey. One potential solution was that if his interest was one-sided, he’d still have leverage over Marcus and could end it without your help, allowing you to leave. You had considered that, but Sevika’s outburst had shaken the foundation of your plan.

You had important tasks ahead, and dwelling on the possibility that he might feel something for you was a path to failure.

Maybe it really was time to say everything outright instead of waiting for him to make a move.

You slipped into a guard uniform, hoping you’d fastened all the buttons correctly. You lacked a weapon, but not all guards carried rifles on their backs. The key was to play dumb and lie about everything. After taking two deep breaths—how did they even breathe in those masks?—you calmly marched toward the cable car leading to the island.

They spotted you from a distance, but none of them tried to stop you. Your heart was pounding wildly. You were walking into the lion’s den, pretending you knew what you were doing. You responded with a subtle nod to their greetings and lined up behind another guard escorting a boy.

You clenched your jaw to keep from saying anything. The kid couldn’t have been older than 15, yet he was already bound for a cell. Probably some petty crime that someone higher up deemed enough to lock him away. It was cruel.

This type of transport was unnerving, but there was no other way in. You stepped into the cabin with the pair, feeling a wave of panic sweep over your mind as the doors closed behind you. You were acutely aware that only a thin layer of metal stood between you and the abyss.

You could hear the cables creaking and the faint jolts of the cabin. You sat down on the floor, fighting the urge to rip the mask off your face. You hadn’t realized how much the idea of being trapped terrified you. Or maybe it wasn’t the confinement itself—it was the fear of having no escape.

Faced with this newfound terror, the idea of being caught seemed even darker. Well, yet another motivation not to fail.

The cabin jolted again, and you flinched noticeably.

"Heh, first time, huh?" the guard asked.

You cursed silently, not realizing he was watching you. You quickly stood up, unsure what to expect, shifting nervously from foot to foot, reminding yourself that to him, you were just a colleague.

"Yeah, does it always jolt like this?"

"This is nothing. Were you reassigned from the upper city?"

"I’m just here to deliver orders to the warden. Do you know where I can find him?"

The stranger pondered for a moment. God, it was so easy to deceive them when they couldn’t see your face. Then again, it made sense—no one in their right mind would willingly go to Stillwater.

"Go straight to the guard at the entrance. I'm just dropping this trash off inside, and he'll take care of it," he said, kicking the boy sitting beside him in the side.

It was the perfect opportunity to start a fight, take advantage of the element of surprise, and overpower him. That kid didn’t deserve such treatment. Then again, you didn’t know him or why he was bound for prison, but the terror in his eyes suggested he was on the brink of breaking down.

Was it worth risking so much for one person? You were here to save someone innocent. Could you decide the value of another's life based on their utility? You fought the impulse to help, but the truth was, you had no idea what awaited you on the island. Even if you helped him now, he couldn’t make it back to the mainland alone, and you were already taking too many risks.

The journey seemed endless. It felt as if you’d never stop moving, destined to remain trapped forever. Just as the thought of clawing at the walls to escape crossed your mind, the transport jolted again and began to slow. The guard yanked the boy to his feet and shoved him toward the exit. Following them seemed like the safest option; it might even show you the way.

The door creaked open with an eerie groan, letting in the salty sea air. You could taste it even through the mask. The wind tore inside, and without the mask, it would’ve taken your breath away. You stepped out quickly, masking your hesitation as best you could. Instinct urged you to scan for danger, but glancing around might raise suspicions. You were a guard from the upper city here to collect a prisoner—nothing more.

The place was ghastly. You might have ended up here yourself if Silco hadn’t bought your freedom. Now, you walked in willingly, knowing you might already have a record. If someone recognized you, you’d never leave these walls again. A grim prospect, but you were determined not to get caught.

Stillwater was bleak and oppressive. The inmates were cut off from light and air. That alone was a cruelty, and many would spend decades paying for their crimes. You couldn’t help but wonder how many truly deserved such severe punishment. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the guard you’d been told about until you were right in front of him. He looked like they’d chosen him for his job based on his intimidating presence—someone who made you want to confess just to avoid his massive fists.

He handed some papers to his colleague, and the boy disappeared into an elevator. You knew you’d never see him again. Shaking off the thought, you stepped forward.

“What do you want?” he barked without looking up.

“I’m here for a prisoner. Lacey Deren.”

He raised his head, and a shiver ran down your spine at the sight of his cloudy eyes.

“Who?”

“Lacey Deren. Female. About 40.”

He adjusted his posture and started sifting through a pile of papers.

“I don’t have any releases for today. Why do you want her?”

Adjusting your gloves, you tried to appear unfazed, but his questions chipped away at your confidence.

“I didn’t ask. The sheriff wants to interrogate her.”

At the mention of your shared superior, doubt flickered across his face, but he shrugged it off.

“Something big, huh? Look, I can’t help you. I don’t have her here. Wait until a release order shows up.”

You stepped closer and lowered your voice, pretending to share a sensitive detail.

“It’s a delicate matter, you understand? The sheriff can’t officially release her yet, but he needs to interrogate her… his way.”

God, you were lying through your teeth. You had no idea if Marcus had “ways” or had ever done anything like this. The guard scratched his head, clearly taken aback. You’d planted uncertainty, drawing closer to your goal.

“Hold on, I’ll check the records.”

Damn. Now everything could fall apart. If the man saw that Lacey Deren’s file didn’t exist, he’d know you lied. He didn’t seem like someone who’d let that slide. He stepped into another room to search. Watching his back from the doorway, your mind raced. Could you search his desk before he returned? Normally, yes, but your uniform creaked with every move. He’d have to be deaf not to notice you moving around.

He returned quickly, holding a file that made your heart sink. What did this mean? Was there another Lacey, or was Marcus’s note outdated?

“I’ve got a Deren here, but her file is empty. Looks like an arrest order was issued, but nothing else. Like she never showed up.”

He shrugged, indifferent to the fact that you were discussing a person. You smiled behind your mask, realizing you’d caught him.

“You mean to tell me you lost a prisoner?”

He recoiled at the sharp question and nervously shuffled papers around.

“No, of course not. It must be some mistake.”

“A high-profile prisoner is missing, and you have no answers? Should I inform the sheriff about this?”

The man didn’t seem the type to fear someone like Marcus, but he clearly disliked the idea of having his work questioned by someone higher up. That was your leverage.

“Before you go running to complain, let me check, all right?” he grumbled, annoyed at the extra work. “Knew I shouldn’t have let that rookie sort the files,” he muttered under his breath.

You sighed theatrically, adjusting your belt.

“Look, I don’t have time for this. The sheriff needs her now. Someone broke into his home, and he thinks she knows something. Big case. Got anything, or should I tell him he won’t learn who threatened his family?”

The lie was brilliant. You tried not to smile, but with every word, the guard seemed to shrink. He rummaged through the documents faster, desperate to find something, but you knew there was nothing on Lacey except the arrest warrant.

“Damn it, I’ve got nothing,” he finally admitted, leaning closer. “Listen, this stays between us. I’m not supposed to release prisoners without papers, but if it’s for the sheriff, I won’t ask questions. I don’t have anything on her, but a rookie was reorganizing the archives recently—maybe something got misplaced. Try the fourth level. They should know more down there. If you know what she looks like, walk through the cells. If you find her, ask anyone for the keys. Damn… a break-in…”

You nodded to him without a word and walked away toward the elevators. It went smoothly—maybe too smoothly. You hadn’t expected him to be wrapped around your finger so quickly, but it seemed he didn’t want to cause trouble with Marcus. The most important thing now was to get Lacey and disappear before anyone started questioning your plan. The sight of the cramped elevator made you feel faint, but you couldn’t back down. Not when you were this close.

To think, there were so many people down below...

You shuddered, feeling your clothes cling to you. It might be time to add another phobia to the list—right after big spiders. And there were probably plenty of those here. You shook your head, disgusted by your wandering thoughts, and briefly removed your mask. Your lips were damp from your quick breathing. This uniform was suffocating. Surely, they had some kind of special training to keep from passing out while wearing this all day. The air was stale and dry. When the elevator stopped, you quickly covered your face again and mustered the last of your strength. Dropping out of character now would be a disaster.

You regretted not being able to bring a photo of her, but even the cheapest camera was beyond your budget. Luxuries like that weren’t for you. The sheer number of cells on a single floor made you panic. The longer you stayed, the greater the chance the guard upstairs might decide to contact Marcus. Nobody in their right mind would disguise themselves as a guard to get into a prison. The line between bravery and recklessness was razor-thin.

To the left of the entrance, the hallway widened slightly, with space for the guards to gather. Searching for her on your own was pointless; making contact with the other guards would lend credibility to your act. They might stop you if you barged in and tried to take a prisoner without explanation. Hopefully, no one overly zealous would prioritize rules over convenience.

A woman sat at a table, engrossed in a newspaper. She had removed the top of her uniform and didn’t even glance at you when you approached. She didn’t look particularly inviting, which made you even less inclined to wander the cells aimlessly.

“I’m looking for a prisoner. Can you help me?”

She sighed heavily but didn’t put down the paper.

“Name?”

“Deren. Lacey Deren.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

You rolled your eyes. Talking to her was an absolute delight. So helpful. There was no point in pressing further. You took a step back, waiting to see if she’d stop you, but she went back to reading, ignoring you.

You remembered Lacey had shoulder-length blonde hair—probably longer now—and thin lips. Your memory for faces had never been great. You hesitated, weighing the odds of finding her on your own versus trying your luck on another floor. Marcus must have hidden her well if his subordinates didn’t even know she existed.

You froze mid-step. What if they knew her under a different name? No, she had a file in the archive. Unless, for safety, she had used an alias. Gods, what had you gotten yourself into? Finding her felt like searching for a needle in a haystack. Someone could be on their way to Marcus right now, asking if he had authorized her release.

“Sorry for all the questions, but I can’t find her on my own,” you said to the woman. “Maybe you’ve seen her? She should’ve arrived a few months ago. A woman around forty.”

She huffed in frustration and lowered the paper slightly.

“Do you have any idea how many people pass through here every month? I wouldn’t remember a face even if I wanted to. Why is she so important?”

“The sheriff wants something from her. If I go back without her, heads will roll. Unless you help me, in which case I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Your words piqued her interest. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, ready to bargain.

“And who are you?”

“Someone who can get you a cushy spot up top. But if you’d rather stay here, be my guest.”

You weren’t sure if it was a good offer, but you felt everyone would prefer a comfortable station to guarding prisoners day in and day out. She seemed to like the idea—maybe even seriously considering it. Well, it didn’t matter what promises you made since you’d never see her again.

“Hmm, you talk a good game, but how do I know you’re telling the truth? What’s your name?”

You handed her your ID, showing you had nothing to hide. At first glance, it looked indistinguishable from a real one, especially in this light.

“Are you going to help me find her or not?” you asked impatiently. “I’m sure the folks on the lower floors would jump at the chance to get out of here.”

“Don’t be so hot-headed,” she replied, a little friendlier now. “So if I find her, I get transferred? What did this Deren do to be so important?”

“How should I know?” You shrugged. “The sheriff thinks she knows something about the threats his family has been receiving. He wants her brought to him today.”

She stood heavily and put her uniform top back on.

“Let’s find your Deren.”

You nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. You weren’t sure if she was indifferent, naive, or simply didn’t see you as a threat. You suspected she had no reason to distrust you. She probably saw you as some upper-city pencil-pusher who had no clue about real life. You knew that if you really were colleagues, she’d milk the connection for all it was worth—and then some. It was just as well that the person you were impersonating didn’t exist.

Finding Deren took longer than you expected. You were getting nervous as you walked through corridor after corridor without success. Of course, Abby—as she introduced herself after a while—was determined to scour Stillwater to its depths looking for the woman. When you reached the next floor, she didn’t say a word to her colleagues about why Lacey was so important. Smart, you thought as you followed her. Why share the credit if she succeeded? You should have felt sorry for her, but you didn’t respect the guards.

You were beginning to doubt you’d ever find Lacey. The lower you went, the heavier the air and the higher the humidity. If Marcus wanted Zarys to work for him, Lacey should have decent conditions.

It wasn’t until the sixth floor that someone recognized Lacey’s description. Unfortunately, the man said she didn’t speak to the guards, so he couldn’t confirm if it was her. Abby quickly pulled you away to keep him from learning more. Lacey’s cell was at the far end of the eastern corridor.

When you saw her, for a moment you thought she was dead. She sat motionless on the floor, her hair covering her face. Her shoes were ruined, and a thin layer of water coated half the floor. You stepped closer, letting your shadow fall over her briefly. She flinched and glanced at you but quickly looked away.

“Lacey Deren?” you asked, though you already knew it was her.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“It’s her,” you said to Abby. “Could you get the keys?”

Abby hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded.

“No funny business. If you leave with her without saying a word, I’ll find you,” she warned.

You were tempted to take off your helmet and show Lacey that she didn’t have to be afraid, but the longer she believed you were a guard, the better the chance she wouldn’t act suspiciously. Until you reached solid ground, she needed to believe Marcus had actually sent you for her.

You waited patiently for Abby, trying not to show Lacey any sympathy, but it was hard not to feel something when you saw the emptiness on her face. She was here only because Marcus had some cruel plan. Abby returned fairly quickly, carrying a full set of keys. You tried not to show irritation as she tested key after key. You breathed a sigh of relief when the lock finally clicked and the door swung open.

You took a deep breath before stepping inside. Abby’s expectant gaze bore into you, as if she anticipated written confirmation of a promotion. Getting Lacey out of here felt personal in a way you didn’t fully understand.

“You’re coming with me. Get up,” you ordered, even though you wanted to slap yourself when Lacey flinched slightly.

She didn’t resist. She held her hands out in front of her, ready for cuffs. You felt sick seeing the red abrasions on her wrists. You had to keep it together so no one would notice anything strange about your behavior. The fact that she submitted so quickly and without protest told you this wasn’t her first time. You reached for your belt, grabbed the cuffs, and secured them on her wrists. They closed with a soft click. You felt like you might vomit.

You gestured for her to go ahead of you. Just a little further, and it would all be over. Abby trailed closely behind you, practically stepping on your heels, as if expecting some reward. While waiting for the elevator, you knew you had to find a way to get rid of her.

“Thank you for your help, Officer. I’ll submit the paperwork on your case later today,” you said in your best friendly tone.

You thought that was the end of it, but when she stepped into the elevator with you, she leaned in and whispered:

“Do you think I believe you? I’m coming with you. You’re not taking all the glory.”

You clenched your fist slightly, knowing you couldn’t let your anger show. You should have expected Abby wouldn’t be so naive. Well, she didn’t know yet that once you were out of sight, you’d have to incapacitate her. You hated the thought of killing, but you couldn’t let her come with you to Zaun.

Lacey was awaiting her fate. You wanted to tell her not to be afraid, but that wasn’t an option. You couldn’t let emotions cloud your judgment, though your hatred for Marcus was starting to burn brightly.

You thought frantically about how to deal with Abby. A solution came to you as the elevator doors opened, and you saw a man behind a desk. This might work. As you walked past him, he straightened up quickly, looking your way.

“Found your missing person, I see?” he chuckled as if his negligence wasn’t an issue.

“Lucky for you, yes,” you replied curtly, pausing before adding, “Abby, take the prisoner and wait by the exit. I need to check something.”

“Don’t try anything!” she barked and gave Lacey a shove in the back.

The woman stumbled, nearly falling. You wanted to break Abby’s nose for that. Instead, you approached the desk, leaning in closer to the guard than before. You motioned for him to come closer. Curious, he obliged.

“I checked, and it’s Abby who’s responsible for the confusion,” you whispered. “I think you’ll want to detain her and sort this out. Better her than you, right?”

Your words darkened his expression. He nodded and straightened up. You’d stirred the pot, knowing this would cause a lot of trouble for them. But if anyone could hold Abby back from leaving Stillwater, it was him. You felt his gaze on your back as you hurried Lacey along before an argument broke out between the two.

You stepped between Lacey and Abby, guiding the woman away. You took your first step toward the door when the man behind you called Abby to him.

“Go, I’ll wait outside. I won’t leave you,” you added convincingly.

Abby hesitated but couldn’t refuse him. You quickly led Lacey outside. She shivered in the cold, wearing only a thin shirt. She’d likely been taken from her home without a chance to dress properly. You fought the urge to give her your coat. Gently, you touched her shoulder and nodded toward the exit.

Behind you, voices echoed. Your ploy had almost been discovered. When they realized you’d pitted them against each other, there would be trouble. You needed to be far from the prison by then.

You grabbed Lacey’s elbow, urging her to walk faster. At the shore, you spotted a cart ready to depart. Your heart raced. You waved to the man at the front, hoping he’d understand your intentions. He shouted something to the others but stayed in place. Whether passengers could control the departure time didn’t matter now. What mattered was that you and Lacey boarded without Abby.

Lacey immediately shrank into a corner at the sight of a few guards, lowering her gaze. You didn’t want to know what they’d done to her to make her so fearful. You stood nearby, hoping no one would try anything. The guards were boasting about who had captured the most prisoners last week, treating it like a game. The lives of these people meant nothing to them.

You lowered your head, feeling a growing ache. Rest was impossible now, with such a long journey ahead. You turned away, loosening your mask briefly and letting it hang around your neck. Lacey glanced at you, likely wondering where you were taking her. But your focus was on suppressing the nausea.

When the doors finally opened, letting in fresh air and light, you grabbed her arm and led her out. It was unsettling how she didn’t even try to run, despite being so close to freedom. Once you lose hope, you can’t see freedom, even if it’s right in front of you.

You held her arm firmly to avoid suspicion, brushing off questioning looks as you walked. You needed to reach the place where you’d stashed your bag. Dressed as you were, she wouldn’t believe you, even if you told the truth.

When you were sure you couldn’t be seen from the shore, you pulled her into a deserted alley and removed your helmet. The relief was indescribable. Your hair clung to your temples.

“Wait here,” you told her.

She didn’t seem to understand what was happening but remained still, the cuffs still on her wrists making escape unlikely. You doubted she even considered it. As you stripped off pieces of your uniform and stuffed them into your bag, you kept a close eye on her. You wanted to help her, but you needed her alive and compliant.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” she asked, panic creeping into her voice.

You pulled keys from your pocket and showed them to her.

“Someone who just got you out of prison. I’ll take these off, but you have to promise not to run. Clear?”

“Why are you doing this? Are you working for him too?” she asked, drawing her hands closer to her chest.

“For Marcus? Do you think I’d be stuffing a uniform into a bag if I worked for him?” you quipped. “Listen, I need information you might have. You have no reason to trust me, but I know your husband isn’t doing this willingly. Help me get to him, and this will all be over faster.”

Sevika would have been ashamed of your level of manipulation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to torment Lacey further.

“How do you know about my husband?”

“We have a common enemy. Where can I find him?”

Fear and panic flickered in her eyes.

“I don’t know. Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

You grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly.

“I need to know where he is. If Marcus realizes you’ve disappeared, your husband could be in danger. Do you understand?”

You looked into her eyes, trying to convince her, but she might have been too shocked to respond. You shook her again, and she finally looked at you.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in weeks,” she sobbed. “Please, I just want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, understand? It’s not safe. I can hide you, but first, tell me where I can find your husband.”

The panic in her eyes began to subside as she started to breathe more evenly.

“Zarys works for Marcus,” she said, watching you expectantly. You nodded slightly, offering a faint smile to encourage her. “He… he’s doing something for him. He told me he couldn’t visit because something happened, and Marcus won’t let him.”

“Is Marcus holding him captive?” you asked sharply. “Lacey, what has Marcus done to him?”

“He’s keeping him at his place. That’s all I know.”

You wanted to curse, but that would only frighten her more. You’d planned to return with her to Silco, but you’d caused too much trouble at Stillwater. Abby would want revenge for being left behind and would likely go straight to Marcus to demand answers.

You'll probably get a lot of flak from both of them - from Silco and Sevika - for different reasons, but you had to finish what you started. 

Chapter Text

Getting Lacey to a safe place proved more challenging than you thought. The woman was in shock from the overwhelming number of revelations that had hit her. In just half an hour, she had been escorted out of prison by a guard who turned out to be an imposter offering her help. She obediently followed you, likely because she had no other choice rather than due to any trust. You kept glancing at her, noticing she was gradually sinking into apathy. This was not a good sign—it must have reminded her of the wrongs she had suffered. But for her safety, you didn’t let go of her wrist. If you were separated and the crowd took her, you would never find her again.

Lacey couldn’t return home. In a few hours, she would be the most wanted person in all of Zaun and Piltover. Guards would receive her portrait, and stations would be flooded with women matching her description. Well, you had caused this, but there had been no other way. Marcus would fly into a rage when he learned Lacey had disappeared, and the first suspect would surely be Zarys. No one else had a reason to look for her. Of course, Marcus didn’t know everything, but you didn’t think he would remain rational in this situation. You needed to find the chemist before the sheriff meted out his own form of justice.

At first, you considered taking her to a shelter. The problem was, at the sight of so many outlaws, she might panic even more, perhaps even attempt to take her own life or flee. Asking Sara for help was out of the question. You liked her and didn’t want to abuse your relationship. She had already told you once that she wanted nothing to do with your work. You could lie, claim you found Lacey on the street and thought she needed help, but Sara wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t be fooled by such a ploy. Your actions weren’t always morally correct, but you didn’t want to exploit those willing to help you voluntarily.

This was probably the first time you neither wanted nor could act alone. The question was, after all the stunts you had pulled, would anyone be willing to help clean up this mess again? Sevika understood the gravity of Lacey’s presence, but you couldn’t let anyone connect you to her. You gave Lacey your hoodie and told her to keep the hood on no matter what. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on her feet. This could work, as long as luck stayed on your side.

You stopped near the Last Drop with Lacey. You hadn’t managed to plan this out, and dragging such an important person with you made you feel like all eyes were on you. Paranoia was starting to creep in. You hadn’t eaten or slept enough, which provoked hunger into an early attack. On one hand, you knew most people in Zaun wouldn’t sell out one of their own to the guards. But money is money. Guards often used force as persuasion, so the risk was low, but someone might blackmail you, demanding payment for their silence. Lacey needed to disappear, and there was only one person influential enough to erase every trace of her.

You hoped there was at least some mutual sympathy between you and the Last Drop staff. They certainly weren’t hostile. They knew who you worked for, but not every corner of the bar was accessible to you. Still, the risk was worth it. You circled around, taking narrow alleys to approach the building from the back. You made sure no one was following. Relief washed over you when you saw the back entrance was open. Lacey balked at the cacophony coming from inside, but you managed to pull her in. You reassured her it was for her own good, that no one intended to lock her up.

You needed to find Sevika.

The employee area brought back memories. It had been so long ago. Back then, you all knew so little. You groped in the dark, searching for solutions. Your stomach twisted at the memory of Silco holding on to himself as you fainted for the first time from the drug. You swore under your breath as your hands started to tremble. Sevika and her damn bluntness.

At first glance, the room seemed empty, but in the corner, Jeff was cleaning his gun. At the sight, Lacey collapsed to the ground and began to cry.

“Put that away, will you?” you snapped, leaning toward her. “Lacey, it’s okay. He’s a friend.”

Jeff, surprised, put the weapon in a drawer and stood up. Lacey began trembling even more.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, stressed. You had to lie. “Sorry for my tone. She needs help, but she’s clearly terrified of men. Is Sevika here?”

You heard Jeff instinctively take another step, causing Lacey to burst into sobs. She backed away as far as she could until her back hit the wall. Jeff froze and cursed.

“I saw her half an hour ago, leaving the boss’s office.”

“Could you check? I need her, and I can’t look for her myself,” you glanced over your shoulder and added gently, “Please.”

Jeff had a good heart or a soft spot for suffering women, because he didn’t argue. He left the room quickly. Once he was gone, Lacey didn’t stop crying but shook less violently. She buried her face in your jacket. Damn it, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to let her go anytime soon. You sat with her patiently, waiting for Jeff to return—hopefully with Sevika. Time was slipping away, but you couldn’t leave her alone. The last thing you needed was Silco showing up unexpectedly. He’d stop you by force if he had to. Not that the idea was entirely unappealing, but…

Focus, damn it.

Whatever they did to her in prison was too traumatic for her to give you any answers right now. If she could speak at all in the coming days, it would be a miracle. You made sure she didn’t fall asleep. You had to find Zarys as soon as possible, but if Lacey woke up to strange faces, she’d panic. And you doubted Sevika would handle her gently.

Footsteps and raised voices echoed from the distance. The door swung open, and you heard her.

“Stay here,” Sevika said to Jeff before stepping in and shutting the door. “Is that her?”

You moved away from Lacey and stood up. Sevika didn’t seem angry that you had brought her here. It had been a while since you’d seen her this serious.

“Yes, but she’s in shock and unresponsive. Sevika, listen. You can hit me for this later, but I can’t stay. I need to go after her husband.”

“Now? Are you crazy?”

Suddenly, dizziness overwhelmed you, and you swayed. It was getting worse; nausea clawed at you. But this had to be the last time you took shimmer. No matter how strong the craving, it would have to wait until you could take a safe dose. And you wouldn’t do that knowing Zarys was still in the upper city.

“I don’t have time. I stirred up some trouble in Stillwater—not what you think,” you quickly added at her expression. “One of the guards will be looking for the person I impersonated, so she’ll head straight to Piltover. If Marcus finds out Lacey escaped, he’ll go after Zarys immediately. I need to find him before Marcus does.”

You bent to pick up your backpack from the floor. Piltover was always crowded during the day, giving you a better chance to hide. The guards would be too busy searching for Lacey to notice you.

“You know I’ll have to tell him everything?”

You straightened up and met her eyes. She truly looked concerned about the situation. Well, you hadn’t planned on being a hero, but Zarys was more important than your addiction.

“I know. When I get back, you can punish me however you like,” you said firmly, crouching beside Lacey. “Lacey?” you asked, touching her shoulder. She lifted her head and looked at you, exhausted. Maybe she recognized you. “Sevika will take care of you. I’m going to find your husband, okay?”

She nodded slowly, her gaze shifting to her new guardian. Sevika didn’t look happy with this turn of events, but both of you knew there was no time for arguments. You closed your eyes briefly, battling the headache, before standing. If you swayed again, Sevika might tie you to a chair to keep you from leaving.

She stayed silent, which could mean anything—from approval to anger. But she didn’t stop you. Her strange, sudden concern for your health was embarrassing. You reached for the doorknob, only for her words to stop you, shaking your resolve with their intensity.

“Don’t get yourself killed. Silco’s already losing his mind over your safety. If something happens to you and I have to deal with him, I’ll find you, even at the end of the world.”

You nodded quickly, hoping she noticed how deeply her words affected you. You opened the door and took a step when, for the first time in a long while, you heard Lacey’s voice.

“It’s loud there,” she whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at Sevika, who looked just as surprised as you. “He said he couldn’t work because it’s loud there. Does that help?”

You drew a shaky breath, realizing you might know where to find him. A lead was better than nothing. You smiled faintly.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll find him.”

Promising her that was complete foolishness. Zarys might already be dead or refuse to believe his wife was safe. A lot of things could go wrong. What mattered was that Sevika hadn’t stopped you. For the first time in a long while, you felt a strong pang of guilt over the problems you’d caused. If everything went according to plan, you were ready to face the consequences of your actions.

What Lacey said could have had many meanings, but the recent events were finally aligning into one possible solution. She mentioned that Marcus was keeping Zarys "at his place." As the sheriff, he had access to many locations, but you doubted he would scatter his people all over the city trying to hide them. Unless he had locked Zarys in his own basement, there was one place you should check first. The first time you saw the chemist in the city, it was in the tunnels. His behavior from the start indicated he didn’t want to be noticed. He wouldn’t have used that hatch unless he had something to hide. The tunnels were on the other side of Upper City, far from Marcus’ home. The noise Zarys mentioned could have been the roar of falling water. With your hearing, it was unbearable, so it was likely extremely uncomfortable for others, too.

You didn’t have your jacket, and wearing a guard’s uniform was out of the question. Only a few hours had passed since the break-in. Marcus might still be in shock after Silco’s threats, and on top of that, he’d soon lose his hostage. Sometimes, surprise was the best weapon.

The day had barely begun. You joined a group of people heading to Upper City with carts full of vegetables for sale. You matched their pace, walking alongside them as if you belonged. The addiction was already taking its toll. You hunched your shoulders, feeling like the sun was shining too brightly. Perhaps you had become too accustomed to working at night. Once inside the city, you quickly parted ways, slipping through the crowd. It was easy, even with your aching muscles. The tunnel entrance was about fifteen minutes away. The hope of finding Zarys lay in the fact that you hadn’t searched that level completely. If he had heard the roar of water, it meant he was working near the reservoir. That was where you planned to start.

When you finally managed to hide in the underground, the first thing you did was lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. The last time you felt this way, you hadn’t yet realized how much the drug would affect you. Well, this wasn’t a good time for self-pity. What was truly pathetic was that neither Finn nor Marcus had grown suspicious after your break-ins. Finn underestimated Silco, believing he was stuck in the past. But Marcus? Did he really feel so confident in his plan that he hadn’t considered Silco would eventually find out? Or did he think he’d execute his plan before that happened?

Too late for that, sheriff.

Lifting the hatch in your condition was nearly impossible. Your arms trembled as you slid it aside. This time, you didn’t wait for permission and jumped down immediately. The barrel of water smelled even worse but stood in the same place. That was good; no one had been here. Last time, you kept turning right to avoid getting lost. You tried to recall which direction the drop-off would be. You had to start somewhere. Adrenaline or stress kept your nerves in check. However, you knew once it ended, you’d collapse for days. You still had a few days before the relocation. You suspected the Chancellor’s birthday was an excuse to distract attention from the smuggling, so you wagered that even if your actions came to light, it likely wouldn’t accelerate the process.

Now that you thought about it, you felt like you could hear the distinct hum of rushing water in the distance. Apart from a few people guarding the goods, there shouldn’t be too many people here—maybe one guard watching Zarys, but nothing a well-aimed knife throw couldn’t solve. You followed the sound, navigating the corridors, knowing that finding your way back would be harder this time. But not as hard as getting Zarys out of here. You could have taken something from Lacey as proof of her safety, but she had nothing on her besides the remains of her clothing.

You felt like you were wandering the sewers aimlessly, with the water’s roar coming from every direction. You were tired, your eyes dry and likely red from constant rubbing, but you were too close to finishing the mission to give up. Turning left, you almost walked into a door placed dangerously close to the edge. You barely avoided smashing your nose. These doors shouldn’t have been here. Around the frame, you noticed fresh mortar in a slightly different color. Immediately, you ducked back around the corner and drew your knife. Zarys could be behind them, Marcus, his entire team ready to attack—or something worse.

You focused on the sounds, but no voices came from inside. In fact, it was rather quiet. Almost. You heard… music? Who listens to music in the sewers? Slowly, you approached the door and touched the handle. Your heart pounded in your chest as you began to press down on it. It wasn’t locked. Now everything depended on whether anyone was watching the entrance and whether the door creaked. You could have taken Sevika’s advice and carried a gun, but the sound of gunshots hurt your ears every time. Knives were much better, though not faster.

The music grew louder as you pushed the door open. It was loud enough to mask any creaking. You pulled a small mirror from your pocket, slipping it deeper to get a glimpse of what was inside. The part of the room you could see was empty. Tables were cluttered with various containers. Bare walls were damp with accumulating moisture. Silently, you hoped you had stumbled upon Zarys’ new lab. He might not be here, or he might have company.

Boldly, you opened the door wider, scanning the room with your eyes. As you suspected, these were his toys. You recognized the apparatus in the center—it looked like a more advanced version of what you’d seen in the old house on Zaun’s outskirts. Glancing the other way, you saw his hunched figure leaning over a microscope. Marcus must have invested a lot of money since Zarys was conducting research on academy-grade equipment. He hadn’t heard your footsteps over the music coming from a battered gramophone in the corner. It was almost funny watching him sway side to side, utterly oblivious to the potential threat.

“On a job, I see?”

You spoke, confident that you were alone. Startled, he jumped, knocking a book to the floor. He turned toward you with a look of terror you hadn’t seen before. He recognized you. Taking a deep breath, he… dropped to his knees?

“Make it quick, will you? I hate pain.”

You stepped back, taken aback.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

You sheathed your knife and took another step back. What an absurd situation.

“I’m not going to kill you. Pack up; we have to go.”

He stood, visibly embarrassed by his behavior, dusting off his knees and clasping his hands behind his back.

“If you’re not here for revenge, then what are you doing here?”

“God, do you really need to know now? We don’t have time.” You urged him, but no matter what you said, he had no reason to follow you anywhere. You sighed. “I believe you’re not working for Marcus willingly. Your wife is safe.”

“Lacey…?”

“Yes. Can we go now?”

Relief battled fear on his face. You strained your ears for the sound of approaching footsteps. Zarys, however, needed to reach his own conclusions. Forcing him out wouldn’t work.

You had a chance to take a better look at him. His hair was slicked back, and he had a rather prominent receding hairline. You estimated him to be around 40 years old, but lately, your ability to judge age wasn’t exactly reliable. He was wearing a familiar-looking white lab coat, now stained with something orange.

"Wait, how? How do you know about her?"

You sighed and recklessly sank into a chair, sensing that a few explanations were inevitable.

"Lacey Deren, a woman around 40 years old. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Until today, she was held in Stillwater without any specific charges. Now she's safe. I found information about her in Marcus's files. Is that what you wanted to know?"

He was as shocked as his wife, but for entirely different reasons. What surprised you the most was that, within just a few seconds, he took a deep breath and nodded.

"I believe you."

"Seriously? Just like that?"

He was either foolish or naïve. Or maybe he was waiting for a rescue. Whatever made him trust you wasn’t worth dissecting at that moment.

"I already told you I want to stop Marcus, but I can't do it alone. And if you're here, it means you're planning the same."

You narrowed your eyes, studying his face suspiciously, looking for any sign of deceit, but he was remarkably composed.

"Or maybe you want to kidnap me so I can manufacture this drug for you?"

He raised his eyebrows and stifled a faint smile.

"You didn’t take a vial from me until I forced it into your hands. If that were the case, you wouldn't have come here alone."

"Good point," you sighed, too exhausted to keep up the pretense of being more intimidating than you were.

You stood up, and the world spun. Darkness clouded your vision. You wavered, stumbling into the table. There was the sound of shattering glass, and moments later, a pair of hands forced you to sit down. You fought with your stomach to keep down the fruit you'd stolen from the merchants’ cart.

"You're still addicted," he whispered, horrified. "How on earth are you still alive?"

"I’ve been asking myself that question for weeks," you wheezed, clutching your stomach.

"But that’s impossible! All the subjects died within days of taking their first dose!"

"You tested it on people?" you asked angrily, fumbling for your knife.

He stepped back, nervously smoothing what little hair he had left.

"Not me. Marcus. He brought prisoners here, promising them freedom in exchange for participating in experiments. But everyone who drank it died after two or three days. How are you still alive?"

When it dawned on you what Marcus had been doing instead of maintaining order, you wanted to find him and strangle him with your bare hands. By now, he had already killed countless people. People who believed they had a chance at freedom, only to die in agony. This wasn’t just cruel—it was outright inhuman.

"I’d be happy to talk about this once we’re out of here," you said, standing up and leaning on the table, realizing you were worse off than you thought.

It’s just a moment of weakness, you told yourself. The man approached his desk and began rummaging through his notes.

"After I helped you, I started analyzing the previous samples, but everything indicated the drug was too contaminated. How long have you been taking it?"

"A few weeks."

"Weeks?!" he squeaked, horrified. "No, that’s not possible. How?"

"Look, I don’t know. I take it every so often so I don’t die. That’s all I know," you replied, slightly irritated by his questions, but then something occurred to you. "Someone ran tests on me at the beginning. Apparently, my cells are breaking down. I don’t know what that means. But after each dose, I feel better."

"Cell breakdown… That would explain the different scent of your blood, but how is that possible?" he murmured to himself, completely forgetting about the considerable danger surrounding you both.

"How much do you take each time?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, raising your eyebrows.

"Do you think I remember the dosage? Facing death, that’s the last thing on my mind," you snapped, but he kept staring at you expectantly. You raised your hand and indicated roughly the size of one vial.

"That’s barely a quarter of what the prisoners received. Even so, you should have dropped dead within a month."

You tried standing again, but your knees felt like jelly.

"Listen, this is all very fascinating, but if we don’t get out of here, Marcus could show up for you any moment. I don’t want to be around when that happens."

"I understand. But this is my fault. I can’t bring back the dead, but I can help you. If you want."

You had wanted this from the moment you realized he was behind it all. You still harbored anger toward this man, but you could recognize situations where it was necessary to let it go. This wasn’t the time. He was offering you answers, genuinely interested in your condition. It was reckless, but you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. You nodded in his direction and sat more comfortably.

"What do you want to know?"

He pulled over a second chair and sat across from you, notebook in hand, ready to take more notes.

"What symptoms do you have? When did they start? How do they manifest?"

You hesitated, slightly unnerved by the intensity of his questions. What were you doing? You were supposed to get him out of here, not let him conduct more research. This was Zarys, for heaven’s sake! He should be held accountable for producing this abomination. Yet now, knowing he wasn’t doing it of his own free will, your anger lessened a bit, overshadowed by your hunger. When you got out of here and took your last dose, they would have to physically stop you from killing him. For now, you just wanted your headache to go away.

You explained how your addiction had started. You avoided mentioning Silco by name, just in case, but he would have to be a fool not to figure it out. When you told him about the mutations, he began looking at you like you were a fascinating research subject.

"This is the first time I’ve encountered a case where an unfinished product didn’t kill someone but instead mutated their genetic code. But then again, you’re the only one who’s alive. Fascinating," he murmured to himself, quickly jotting something down. "I know we don’t have much time, and I’d love to investigate further, but for now, all I can say is that the frequency and small doses might be the reason. Still, it’s incomprehensible that you’ve survived this long."

You would have laughed if the situation weren’t so dire. You knew you should be dead. Whatever was keeping you alive remained a mystery.

"Could shimmer affect my thoughts? I feel like the drug is messing with my head."

He looked up from his notes, surprised by the shift in tone, but you needed to know before leaving this place. It was insane to think about this now, but you had a meeting with Silco ahead. You had to be certain of one thing.

"I can’t answer that. I didn’t have much time to study the prisoners," he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and paused, lost in thought for a moment. "But if what you're saying is true—that it mutates within you and heightens your senses—then it must be affecting your brain. But no matter how strong the drug is, it can't change your perception of reality unless you let it. It works superficially, influencing your physical traits, not your mind. At least, it shouldn’t."

That didn't reassure you or provide any clear answers. The music had briefly stopped playing, and the sound of running water reached your ears. You snapped back to reality in an instant. You’d lingered too long. You pushed yourself up, the dizziness hitting you harder this time.

“There’s no time for this. Take whatever you need. Marcus won’t wait for you to finish.”

Zarys flinched, and the fear returned to his face. He jumped to his feet, finally understanding the danger he was in. He started stuffing notebooks into a bag while you grew increasingly impatient. In your current state, you could barely defend yourself, let alone him. If you ran into anyone, you wouldn’t survive long enough to say a word.

"Why is Marcus doing this?" you asked softly.

He froze, interrupting his packing. He leaned on the desk, lowering his head. You had clearly struck a nerve, but you needed answers. Who knew what awaited you outside that door?

“At first, I didn’t know what he wanted from me. You know, I got interested in shimmer because I’d heard about its healing properties,” he began, turning toward you with a hardened expression. “I have a son in the hospital—Elijah. The doctors are keeping him alive, but they don’t hold out much hope. When Marcus came to me, I thought he’d found out what I was doing and wanted to arrest me. I knew it was foolish to get involved with this. He started blackmailing me, forcing me to take a job at Silco’s factory to steal samples for research.”

“When did you go from saving your child to creating a drug like this? It’s hard to believe, you know.”

“I know. You’re right to judge me. I don’t even know when the research consumed me to this extent. I wanted to create a cure to save my son. I couldn’t conduct experiments at the academy. Marcus didn’t care; he wanted results. When I developed a new formula, everything changed. He demanded I keep working on it, growing more ruthless by the day. I knew something was wrong when he forced me to test it on prisoners. I tried to quit, but then he threw Lacey—my Lacey—into prison. I tried to run again, but he threatened that if I did, something terrible would happen to her.”

It was all starting to make sense. The thefts from the factory had been discovered at the last moment. Zarys had a completed formula for shimmer and no longer needed to steal samples. He must have become careless, leading to his discovery. Now, it all fit.

“You were conducting your research in Zaun before, right?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “It was safer that way, but someone broke into my house and stole everything I’d worked on. That’s probably when you got hooked.”

You knew you were risking your life by continuing the conversation, but the revelations were invaluable, and you couldn’t stop now.

“I still don’t know why he’s doing all this.”

“I don’t know if I can answer that question. Marcus has kept me locked up here for some time and doesn’t share his plans. Whatever he intends to do with the drug, it’s not about money. Something else drives him. When I showed him the final version of the drug, he lost himself for a moment and muttered that no one would ever give him orders again. I started jotting down ideas, hoping to figure something out, but…”

His explanation was cut off by a loud crash in the distance. He heard it too. His face turned pale instantly, and he resumed hurriedly packing his notes. You moved to the door, cracking it open slightly to hear better. Blood drained from your face. The footsteps were unmistakable—and far too close. You cursed under your breath, furious that you had let your guard down and failed to notice them earlier.

“Marcus,” Zarys whimpered, terrified. He grabbed your arm, dragging you to the other side of the room. “Hide. If anything happens, take my notes.”

You tried to pull away, but he shoved you into a gap between a tall cabinet and the wall. He barely managed to take two steps toward the center of the room before the door slammed open with a violent crash. You couldn’t move. Your body was wedged in an awkward position, making it impossible to reach into your pocket for the mirror. Your heart pounded wildly—you knew this was the end. If not for you, then certainly for him. Unless Zarys had some miraculous talent for calming enraged lawmen.

“You’re a complete idiot for coming back here,” Marcus growled. You recognized his voice immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zarys tried to respond neutrally, but his trembling voice gave him away.

“I don’t know how you pulled it off, but I won’t let it slide. Where is she?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Your wife, you idiot. Where is she hiding?”

“Where you locked her up,” Zarys retorted. “Stop pointing that thing at me before someone gets hurt.”

Marcus laughed at his feeble threats and took a few steps, though you couldn’t tell in which direction.

“Do you think you’re clever?” he asked harshly.

One of them knocked something glass off a table. The sound of a weapon being cocked froze your blood.

“You wouldn’t actually kill me, would you?”

“Now I have no choice. I won’t let you tell anyone about my plans. And as for your wife, I’ll handle her personally. My men are already looking for her.”

“I don’t know anything about your plans, so what could I possibly say? I’ve been locked in here for days. The guards can confirm I haven’t tried to escape.”

“And yet somehow, someone freed her from prison. Who are you working with?”

“No one!” Zarys shouted. “I’ve been stuck here all this time. How could I possibly do anything from underground?”

“If you won’t admit it, I have no choice. It was nice working with you. Too bad you won’t see the results. The explosion will be spectacular.”

“What results? What are you planning?”

You wanted to break free and face Marcus, despite the sheer insanity of the idea. You stood no chance against him. You knew Zarys was stalling, trying to extract information for you to overhear.

“That knowledge won’t do you any good now.”

“Wait, wait, you can’t kill me. I’m the one who developed the formula!”

“You did it, that's true. And now I have her. I can produce it without your involvement.”

Without warning, he pulled the trigger. The room filled with the smell of gunpowder. You felt as though your ears were bleeding from the blast. Something fell heavily to the ground, knocking over one of the pieces of furniture. You clenched your teeth tightly to suppress any sound. You heard Zarys trying to say something, but only a gurgling noise came from his mouth.

Moments later, the door opened, and a few people entered the room. You pressed yourself deeper into the corner, hoping they wouldn’t start searching the place.

“Boss, are you alright? We heard a gunshot.”

“Get rid of him. Everything here must be burned. Now,” he ordered.

You heard sounds like something heavy being dragged across the floor. They were surely taking the body away. The noise made you feel sick.

“Boss? Maybe we should postpone the operation? If Silco suspects...”

“I don’t pay you to think, only to follow orders,” he snarled at some woman. “Everything stays as I planned. He wouldn’t dare enter the city with his men.”

The fear of being discovered was quickly replaced by vigilance—or rather, what little of it remained. The adrenaline caused by the threat was the only thing keeping you upright.

“But—”

“Should I get rid of you too?”

He snapped at her again, but didn’t wait for an answer. You heard his hurried footsteps as he left the room. The woman ran after him, leaving the door open. Your head was in a mess. So it was all tied to Silco and Marcus after all. Whatever the sheriff was planning, it involved Silco. From Zarys’s words, it might have been about revenge. After seeing how their last conversation went, you couldn’t blame him for wanting to free himself from the obligations in the Undercity, but you still didn’t know exactly what he was planning.

You left your hiding spot only when you were sure you could no longer hear footsteps. The sight of the bloodstain made you nauseous. You shuddered, fighting with yourself, but your instincts were still working. You needed to get out—that was the most important thing right now. Your feet refused to move. You stared at the disgusting blood trail on the floor, searching for the strength to leave.

You took one uncertain step toward the exit when you remembered Zarys wanted you to take his notes. You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath. It wasn’t time to break down just yet. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you shakily left the room as well.

You needed air.

The scent of blood clung to you, and you felt like it wouldn’t go away for a long time. On one hand, you were relieved you hadn’t seen the moment of the chemist’s death—it made it easier to endure. You hadn’t felt any warmth toward him; he was useful, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had caused his death.

You needed air.

***

In the end, you didn’t go back to him right away with the new information. It was starting to get irritating that just when you saw the perfect moment to admit your feelings, another problem demanded your attention. Feeling the weight of the notes, you headed to the tower. It was easier to visit it when it wasn’t yours. It was a responsibility you didn’t want on your shoulders. You had thought owning something would bring stability, but all you felt was the burden of problems that came with such a property.

Climbing onto the familiar rooftop, you began going through Zarys’s notes. Marcus wasn’t planning to hasten the explosion, so if you spent some time now understanding the chemist’s work, you’d be able to actively participate in the discussion. Zarys had packed research results on the drug into the bag. None of it made sense to you, though. They were messy scribbles filled with diagrams, cross-outs, and additional pages. His journal was what interested you the most. He’d been keeping it for a long time, but you started reading from when he met Marcus. Different-colored notes filled the margins, supplementing his thoughts. The man thought chaotically.

But he didn’t lie.

Zarys had worked at the academy. When his son fell ill, he began neglecting his job to research the drug. Shimmer’s healing properties weren’t enough, but doctors wouldn’t consider it. He started conducting research on his own, buying doses in Zaun until he ran out of money. That’s when Marcus found him and threatened to imprison him unless he conducted research for him. Zarys agreed for the chance to save his son. Marcus ordered him to get a job at the factory and steal samples. Zarys worked on his research in a secluded house on the outskirts, but to no avail. His tools weren’t adequate. His work was stolen from him, and all he had left was this semi-finished product. Marcus moved him to the sewers and set up a workspace for him. When Zarys created the first version of the drug’s variation, Marcus began testing it on prisoners. This was dated almost six months ago. By then, countless prisoners had died.

Zarys had resisted Marcus, but then his wife was imprisoned. Only then did he realize Marcus needed to be stopped. There was even a brief mention of you. You couldn’t make out much, but you understood his unease at the fact that someone had survived. The entries stopped a few days ago. Even though he had completed the drug, Marcus kept him under guard. Until the end, he believed he was doing it for his son, but between the lines, you could read his pride in how the drug was developing.

It was hard to form an opinion of him based on the notes alone. You had enough information to return to Silco and share the news. You should feel sorry for him, right? After all, the man lost his life trying to help you. But even after reading his journal, you couldn’t summon any positive emotions toward him. What hurt most was that you’d have to tell his traumatized wife she was now alone and that her husband was dead. You wondered if she knew what Zarys had really been working on. She had someone to live for—their son was still alive. But the look in her eyes suggested it would take her years to recover.

Did the fact that you felt nothing about this man’s death mean you had become numb to the suffering around you—or was it the shimmer? Zarys hadn’t told you anything concrete. According to him, the drug shouldn’t affect your thoughts, but how could he know when none of the prisoners survived? Understanding this was the key to your thoughts. You were fixated on answering whether shimmer had changed something deeper within you, which was why you had sought out Zarys, risking your life.

You gazed at the city in the distance, feeling the wind blow your hair in all directions. Unfortunately, you were so buried in your own thoughts that not even the strongest hurricane could scatter them. Sevika’s words were deeply rooted in your mind and wouldn’t leave you, even now as you faced another problem. But this time, you had to put yourself first and understand your feelings to move forward.

You knew shimmer caused mutations. You were starting to grow accustomed to them. The new senses were useful. You liked that you could see more than others or eavesdrop on conversations that weren’t meant to be overheard. But this didn’t frighten you—it intrigued you.

You started pondering this problem some time ago, but until today, you couldn’t quite put your thoughts into words. You set Zarys’s notes aside and closed your eyes, replaying memories of those moments when something strange was happening around Silco. Those few hours spent in his presence after taking a new dose—each dose affected you differently. Sometimes, you would drift away, not knowing where you were, and other times, your sharpened senses drove you mad as you couldn’t block out the stimuli. Yet always, there was this almost masochistic ecstasy from the drug seeping into every cell of your body. It felt as if your muscles were tearing apart and reassembling themselves. It was unsettling, addictively pleasurable, like stretching your legs after sitting curled up for hours—but much, much better.

You understood all too well the mindset of an addict. It felt so good that your body demanded more and more. But the incredible pain that came when you delayed too long and felt yourself falling apart minute by minute made it terrifying.

There was one time you didn’t do it in his presence. Perhaps it was better to always take another dose in solitude. The fact that he was nearby, that you could smell him in the air and hear his voice as he tried to reach you through the fog flooding your mind—it all involuntarily tied him to this feeling. You were terrified that your strong desire to be closer to him was nothing more than a reflex left over from taking the drug.

When Sevika mentioned his visible interest in you, you knew that sooner or later something would happen between you that you might regret. You preferred to resolve it by looking him straight in the eye and saying what you felt rather than continuing to play with half-truths.

But what if you took a safe dose and everything disappeared? What if you stopped desiring him? You didn’t want that—oh no. It was too enthralling. Yet, a brief moment of pleasure wasn’t worth weeks spent under the influence of addiction. Sevika was right—it had to be resolved. Today.

“So now you’re trespassing?”

You let out some strange, humiliating sound and jerked so hard that your foot slipped off the edge of the roof.

“Could you not scare me like that?” you asked, trying to catch your breath.

Silco chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Apologies.”

“And besides, it’s not trespassing if the tower belongs to me.”

He stepped closer but didn’t sit beside you. You turned to look at him, and well, that was a small mistake.

“Are you sure? I thought it was returned to its previous owner.”

You shrank a little, startled that he had discovered what you did with the building.

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be? I told you to do whatever you wanted with the place. If you thought this was a good solution, I support it too.”

You sighed, recalling that Rosie wasn’t exactly eager to accept the gesture once she realized you worked for someone dangerous.

“What are you doing here?”

He fixed his gaze on you, and suddenly you felt hot under the scrutiny. Was this what Sevika meant? Well, you were beginning to see it.

“I already told you—I’m constantly worried about you. What happened between us doesn’t change that, even if your foolish behavior drives me insane. When Sevika said you managed to save Zarys’s wife but then ran off to find him too, I knew there’d be trouble. That’s why I decided to find you myself—so you wouldn’t cause anyone more problems.”

You listened to his calm monologue, feeling certain words rise to your lips unbidden. You blurted them out without thinking.

“Zarys is dead.”

If you expected his death to affect Silco, you could wait years for a reaction.

“What happened?” he asked, abandoning his usual simmering tone.

“Marcus killed him,” you replied, feeling a strange calm as if you had made peace with the thought. “I know it should affect me somehow, but I feel nothing but emptiness. I know who Zarys was and what he did. I have his notes—I know he wasn’t acting willingly, but I can’t even bring myself to be angry at him anymore. His death is oddly indifferent to me”

“I’d think you were insane if you pitied that man.”

You glanced at him, slightly annoyed, but let it go quickly and just rolled your eyes.

“Thanks,” you snorted. “No, I don’t pity him. I just regret not learning more. What worries me more is Lacey.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop hovering over me like that?” you asked sharply, but then caught yourself, knowing the addiction was clawing at you. “Sorry. Lacey didn’t do anything. She was in prison because her husband was foolish enough to mess with the drug. I don’t know if you’ve seen her, but she’s a wreck.” Panic began to creep into your voice, even though you hadn’t thought about it earlier. “I stupidly told her I’d bring Zarys back, but now… Zarys is dead, and she’s left alone with a trauma she’ll never get over. How am I supposed to look her in the eye and tell her I had a hand in her husband’s death?”

You saw the bloodstain on the floor and the smell. Silco sat down next to you. You were momentarily surprised—thinking he’d never dirty his fancy attire with dust—but he took the spot without hesitation.

“You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t kill him.”

“I know,” you shook your head. “But if I had gotten him out of there sooner, it wouldn’t have happened. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Only when you said it out loud did you realize you weren’t as numb to his death as you thought. You had blocked those thoughts because you didn’t need a panic attack in your current state. Silco stayed silent for a long moment, but it was a comforting silence—something you hadn’t felt around him in ages. You sensed that something about him had changed, though you couldn’t say what. The mere fact that you could have a conversation without throwing blame at each other was reassuring.

“I know what it’s like to be blamed for someone’s death. Maybe his wife will never understand, but you can’t let that guilt destroy the last remnants of your will.”

His words were laced with bitterness and sorrow, as if the experience he referred to was still an open wound. You studied his profile with interest, finding yourself this close for the first time. He allowed it, so you wanted to savor it. You unabashedly drank in the sight. You noticed he glanced at you, but frankly, you didn’t care. Whatever happened next had to come eventually. Just not now.

“Sorry for such confessions,” you laughed lightly, embarrassed by the strange intimacy that had appeared for a moment. “I have important information about Marcus for you. I’ll probably fall asleep sitting here, so I want to give it to you before I pass out for days.”

You reached for Zarys’s journal to hand it to him, but he grabbed your hand instead. You froze. He so rarely allowed himself to touch you that you didn’t know how to react.

"I believe this is important, but you’ve been awake for nearly a day. This can wait."

"No, it can’t," you protested, though you didn’t pull your hand away. "I know more about Marcus’s plans, and I have to say it before I forget." You furrowed your brow, trying to recall the last conversation. Closing your eyes, you focused. "Marcus found out about Lacey’s escape and involved his people in the search, but I’m not sure if he meant the guards or someone else he hired. I know they don’t plan to change the relocation date. He mentioned something about an explosion..." Sleepiness came in waves, blurring the words in your memory. "Silco, they were talking about you. Marcus has some personal issue with you, but I don’t know exactly what. He wants to blow something up during Salo’s birthday. Zarys thought it was about revenge, but he died before he could say more."

You nervously searched your memory for anything else, but the gentle squeeze of your hand pulled you from your thoughts. Slowly, you opened your eyes, flustered by the genuine concern on his face.

"I appreciate your dedication, but I don’t want you jeopardizing your health any further to find answers," he said quietly, though there was an edge to his tone. "You need to rest. You can’t carry everything on your own. You’re already doing more than I have any right to ask."

Something was happening. Between the two of you. Maybe it was exhaustion overpowering you, stripping away your ability to pretend you didn’t care or to guard yourself from the way he affected you. At that moment, all you could see was that—for once—Silco was right. You needed rest. You smiled faintly, knowing you’d completed your task. Despite Zarys’s death, you’d learned something crucial about Marcus. You didn’t know what personal matters lay between them, but now Silco could approach the issue differently. You could fall asleep right there, sitting as you were.

But his hand still rested on yours, reminding you this wasn’t over yet.

You opened your mouth to broach a difficult topic, but Silco reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar vial. The sight of it made the stinging behind your eyes intensify. You flinched, fighting the pain. He had to know before you took it.

"Put that away, please," you managed to say.

Surprised, he closed his hand around the vial but didn’t put it back in his pocket.

"What’s going on?"

You breathed through clenched teeth, feeling like the pressure in your blood would make you explode. You pressed your palms against your eyes, waiting for the pain to subside, but it wouldn’t—especially with the shimmer so close.

"Before I take it, I need to say something," you said, pausing for breath between each word. "I can’t do this."

You stood abruptly, putting some distance between you. It was hard to think with that damned cardamom scent lingering. Silco looked slightly taken aback by your outburst but didn’t move from his spot. You saw his hand disappear into the inner pocket of his coat. You exhaled with relief, resting your hands on your hips as you began to pace nervously. Suddenly, it wasn’t as simple as it had seemed.

"Listen, I know I told you I’d come back for that drug with Lacey, but now I don’t know if I can take it."

"You don’t have to," he replied, standing as well. "I didn’t bring it to force it on you."

"I know," you said, consumed by your thoughts. "I didn’t think that. You have to understand—what’s happening in my head right now is a mess I can’t sort out. I still believe the safe variant might help, but on the other hand, it might make things even worse."

You knew you were speaking chaotically, but you couldn’t articulate these fears any better.

"What do you mean?"

"I’m carrying feelings that occupy my thoughts every single day. I analyze them, and with each passing day, I’m more afraid that it’s not me—that it’s some version of me the shimmer created. What if who I thought I was isn’t real? What if I take this, and suddenly I see myself in a different light? I know I’ve only been using the drug for a short time, but I can’t remember who I was before it. I don’t know how much shimmer has changed me or influenced my personality," you rambled, panicking as you realized you were saying too much. You stopped and looked at him. "And what if I stop feeling what I feel now?" you finished in a whisper.

Silco appeared unaffected by your outburst, but you saw his jaw tighten slightly. Yes, you were talking about him. You feared the safe variant would save your life but distance you from him.

He stepped away from the edge, moving closer but staying far enough to avoid contact with the drug.

"Don’t do this if you’re afraid. This isn’t something you have to do," he began seriously, seemingly trying to calm your racing thoughts—or so you hoped. "There’s one more dose. We can reconsider after you’ve rested. You could also have it analyzed. The decision is yours. I’ve said it once, but I’ll repeat it as many times as needed: I won’t do anything without your consent."

What he said made sense, and you knew it. You watched him, wondering if maybe seeking help from someone experienced was the better option—especially now that Zarys was gone. But the problem was, you were expecting the drug to give you answers. You were ready to talk to Silco about your feelings for him that very day. If you postponed it, you might lose the courage.

"It doesn’t work like that, Silco," you replied in a nervous whisper. "No matter which version I take, I have to do it now. I haven’t felt this bad in a long time. I hoped this would be the last time I’d have to take this crap. I want to end it, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to a part of me that’s come to exist in the process."

He gave you the freedom to decide, but was he ready to say goodbye to the version of you that seemed to captivate him?

As you began voicing these fears aloud, you realized the enormity of the anxiety within you. Suddenly, it wasn’t about not wanting him anymore. You were terrified of seeing him not as Silco the person but as the Eye of Zaun—the monster the entire city saw him as.

"Don’t do this if you’re not ready for the possible consequences," he replied softly, with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

It was as if he was trying to tell you something, but your clouded, addicted mind couldn’t process it.

A sudden spasm doubled you over, and you knew you had no choice. You sank heavily to the ground, extending your hand toward him.

"Give it to me."

"Are you sure? There’s no turning back after this."

"If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I won’t know what’s true unless I take the risk."

He nodded, pulling the vial from his pocket. The situation was so strange you might have laughed at your serious expressions and dramatic words—if not for the pain and fear consuming you.

Silco knelt in front of you and handed you the vial. You thought you saw some strange anticipation in his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure.

This was it. One sip, and you’d understand what was happening—or so you hoped. You trusted Zarys’s words without absolute certainty. But now, there was no turning back.

You took the small bottle from him and unscrewed it with trembling hands. It didn’t have the same sticky scent as what you usually took, but it was slightly different from regular shimmer. It gave you a sliver of hope for a positive outcome.

The problem was that nothing changed.

The shimmer slid down your throat, leaving behind a familiar tingling sensation, but your body didn’t scream in pain. In fact, you didn’t feel anything new. You started to see more clearly, but you were still utterly exhausted. The nausea had subsided, but your limbs remained weak.

Had Zarys deceived you? Was it not a safe variant after all? Of course, you couldn’t know—he was dead. You muttered a quiet growl under your breath and stood up. Something was wrong, or everything was perfectly fine.

You started pacing again, from one end of the roof to the other, careful not to fall through the gaping hole that used to be a window. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t know what to say to him.

"I don’t know what’s going on either," you murmured, irritation creeping into your voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Nothing is okay!" you yelled, feeling as though you might cry out of sheer frustration if you didn’t get the answers you so desperately sought. "Nothing has changed. I don’t feel any different, except that I no longer want to bury myself deep underground to avoid every sound irritating me."

"Give it time. You don’t know how it’s supposed to work. You won’t see results immediately."

"Because you’re such an expert," you snapped, immediately biting your tongue. He wasn’t at fault for the drug not giving you what you wanted. You shouldn’t take your feelings out on him. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this."

"What was supposed to happen?" he asked cautiously, as if afraid of your reaction. That was new.

"I have no idea," you shook your head, feeling like this was going to create more problems than it solved. "I had a plan. I’m tired of pretending I know how to play this game, but the truth is, I never wanted to start playing in the first place. When I started to understand what I was feeling, I realized I was too deep in to walk away unscathed. I was ready to finally admit to myself that what I feel for you is more than just respect and I…" You fell silent, your face flushing crimson. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

You covered your mouth with your hand and turned away from him, unable to meet his gaze. This was the most pathetic confession of feelings you could have imagined. You felt pathetic. For a moment, you rested your hands on your knees and took two deep breaths. Silco remained silent, likely stunned by your sudden declaration. You had no idea what he was feeling.

Well, here goes nothing.

"Yes, you heard me right, in case you were wondering," you said, smiling nervously and fidgeting with your fingers. "I don’t understand it either. I only realized it recently, and I can’t calm down when I’m near you. It’s frustrating because I know this shouldn’t be happening, but I don’t want anything more than this. Than you. I’ve been fighting it for so long, but I know pretending any longer will only lead to more problems. Problems I’m not ready for. So, I decided it’s time to be honest, as I demand honesty from you. I was terrified that what I feel was dictated by the drug. But I don’t see any difference in myself, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad," you admitted, turning your gaze away from the city to finally look at him.

His expression was pained, so much so that you started to wonder if confessing was a mistake. What if you had misinterpreted his behavior and now he was struggling to reject you without hurting you too much?

"Sorry, it’s inappropriate of me to dump all of this on you. I don’t even know what you feel. Maybe react somehow instead of letting me humiliate myself like this?"

You had to explode. Too many emotions swirled in your head, and he hadn’t responded to your words at all. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you suddenly felt how freezing it was on the rooftop. Exhaustion amplified the sensation, and you cursed Lacey for taking your jacket.

There were several meters between you, which he suddenly crossed in a few quick strides. Your first instinct was to step back, but you couldn’t. His hands cupped your cheeks just a split second before his lips touched yours. It was so unexpected you had to grab onto him to keep from falling. Was this really happening? Was Silco—this Silco—actually kissing you?

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t a teasing brush of lips meant to encourage you. You inhaled his intoxicating scent and knew you wouldn’t back away from this for anything. Whatever was coursing through your veins wasn’t strong enough to suppress the desire. You knew with absolute certainty that you wanted him with your entire being. It was a feeling that overwhelmed you completely and condemned you to lose yourself in it.

You relished it, letting him take the lead because your head was spinning too much to comprehend what was happening. His hands rested gently on your face, but his lips urged you to deepen the kiss.

Something was off.

You melted, enslaved by his touch and scent, but despite such a bold move, he still seemed reserved. His lips were hungry; it felt like he would devour you right there and then, but you didn’t sense anything beyond need.

This wasn’t how it should be.

You placed your hands on his chest and pushed back slightly. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t let you go. You wanted to lose yourself in this entirely, let him do whatever he wanted, but not like this. You pressed harder, forcing him to break the kiss. His hair was tousled, and his eyes blazed. He clearly hadn’t expected you to pull away. His slightly parted lips tempted you to kiss them again. God, he tasted so wonderful.

"Not like this," you whispered, knowing your voice would betray you if you spoke louder. "Not like this."

"Isn’t this what you wanted?" he asked, his tone a bit too dry.

You took a step back, showing him that your words were genuine and not meant to provoke him.

"You didn’t answer my question. I don’t know how you feel. I don’t want this if you can’t look me in the eye and tell me you feel the same. Reject me or accept me, but don’t play with me."

He averted his gaze, but you caught a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Something was off.

"I wanted to give myself to you. Isn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that the point of this whole confession?"

You closed your eyes. You didn’t want to be hurt again. Something was wrong with his behavior. He was so shocked by your words that you began to doubt the meaning of your confession after he had thrown himself at you, assuming the kiss would be a sufficient answer. If all you wanted was a fling, perhaps it would’ve been, but it had long since stopped being just a whim.

"What you’re offering is a distraction," you said calmly. "I want you, not entertainment."

He fell silent again, and you slowly began to realize that what was happening wasn’t as simple as it seemed. He was shaken by the entire ordeal, starting to pull away after you pushed him back. As if this was the first time he’d experienced anything like this.

You snapped out of it and focused on him. You started trying to figure out what his expression meant. Now he avoided your gaze, staring at the city the same way you had earlier. It was clear he didn’t want to reveal how deeply shaken he was.

"This is all I can give you," he finally said, his words deliberate.

"I understand," you admitted, feeling a strange sadness. "I want to give you more if you’ll let me. If you’ll let yourself. Maybe we need time to process this."

You felt deeply embarrassed by the entire situation. Silco was offering simple physical satisfaction—exactly what Sevika had talked about. You didn’t want to resolve your dynamic in that way. For him, this could’ve been purely physical. For you, it wasn’t. You wanted all of him or none at all. You wanted to know what came next, but you were too exhausted to stay and delve into the issue further.

You brushed past him, heading for the exit. You were just a step away from descending when he grabbed your hand firmly, stopping you.

"I don’t know how to give you more," he said, his voice rough. "But I would like to try if you allow me."

Chapter Text

Well… shit.

You kissed Silco. Actually, he initiated it, but that didn’t change the fact. In the light of day, it was all supposed to seem absurd, so why did you feel that it was, despite everything, the best thing that could’ve happened to you? After thirteen hours of deep, heavy sleep filled with strange dreams, for a moment, you thought it was just another dream about him. But when you randomly caught a whiff of cardamom nearby, the memories came rushing back like a punch to the face.

What were you thinking?

Well, at least it wasn’t shimmer. You were sure of that. No drug could replicate that surge of emotions. Although, no—that was ridiculous. Not your feelings or what happened, but the fact it was about him. God, if it had been someone else, your life would finally be simple. But it was Silco, for crying out loud! Nothing with him was ever simple.

You lay there far too long, staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail of the event, no matter how small. His lips…

“Oh no, I might be pathetic enough to ask for more, but not that pathetic,” you muttered to yourself, hurriedly searching for clothes.

You didn’t know if your arrangement with Sevika was still valid, but maybe you could find a free training room and a punching bag to take the brunt of your shame. Because, holy hell, you were ashamed. You needed to burn off the tension to stop yourself from doing something stupid. The worst part was that you still didn’t feel like anything had changed within you. You hadn’t felt this good in ages, but that didn’t mean the shimmer had worked.

This wasn’t the kind of morning where you felt brimming with energy, ready to move mountains. It was something else, calmer, gentler. You didn’t know what to make of it because you hadn’t slept well in weeks. You simply felt rested, like any normal, healthy person. Still, you braced yourself for the moment when the addiction would come back with a vengeance, punishing you for not taking what you were supposed to.

It was suspicious.

Whatever had been in that vial tasted like shimmer, but it didn’t work like it. You had expected fireworks or pain and got… nothing. That scared you because nothing in your life had changed.

You yanked open the training room door without checking if anyone was inside. You’d gotten out of the habit of noticing whether the lights were on. The mutations hadn’t disappeared, which was both a relief and a cause for concern. Adjusting to the enhanced vision had been almost too easy. The moment you stepped inside, something small hit you in the face.

“Hey, watch it!” you yelled, ducking to pick up the object.

It was a pair of bandages, rolled neatly into two bundles. You stared at them, confused, but the moment you heard the voice, you knew getting out of bed had been a mistake.

“Wrap your hands,” Sevika ordered.

“Fuck…” you whispered, realizing you were about to get the pain you’d been looking for—directly from her.

She stepped closer, shrugging off her cloak. Her mechanical arm gleamed under the fluorescent lights, making the shimmer embedded in her veins look even more menacing. She looked like she’d been training all night. You really should’ve been scared. She waved her metal arm at you and gave you a wicked grin.

“Silco might turn a blind eye to your behavior, but I won’t. What was it you said? I could punish you for acting on your own? Oh, trust me, I’m going to enjoy this.”

Your face went pale, and you froze. You’d completely forgotten about your encounter at the Last Drop and how you’d shamelessly dumped Lacey on her.

Damn Lacey.

One lousy kiss, and you’d forgotten about the whole world. You had to shake your head and take a few deep breaths to clear the images from your mind. Sevika waited patiently as you wrapped the fabric around your trembling hands. You knew running now would only make things worse. You had never sparred with her seriously. Your training sessions were limited to learning basic techniques. But you knew this time she’d use everything she knew and take out every headache you’d ever caused her.

“Apologies won’t work, will they?” you asked, genuine fear in your voice.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she laughed and lunged at you, landing a low punch to your stomach. You doubled over, feeling like your insides had just been rearranged, gasping for air.

“That’s not what I taught you,” she growled. “And trust me, it’s going to get worse if you don’t start trying.”

You straightened up with difficulty, raising your hands into a defensive stance. You had no chance. This was going to be a beating, and no amount of blocking would save you. You knew she wouldn’t hold back. She probably wouldn’t kill you, but there was no way you were leaving this room without bruises all over your body.

You deserved this.

You stood across from Sevika, your heart pounding in your chest from fear and adrenaline. Pride and fear waged war within you, but you knew you couldn’t give up. Not now.

“Come on, show me something,” Sevika said with a crooked smile, clenching her fists. Her mechanical arm glinted ominously in the light. “I didn’t wait for you just so you could stand there gawking.”

You stepped forward, trying to throw a punch, but Sevika dodged effortlessly, as if she knew your moves before you made them. No surprise—she had taught you, and now she intended to use that advantage mercilessly. The counter came quickly—a light slap to your nose that sent you reeling and tumbling onto your back. Stars exploded in your vision.

“Don’t pretend you’re done already,” Sevika said, placing her hands on her hips. “Get up. I don’t have all day.”

You clenched your teeth, pushing through the pain and the storm of thoughts in your head. You couldn’t give up. If you did, Sevika would think you were weak—and worse, she’d be right. This was the punishment you had to endure if you didn’t want to make things worse for yourself. Slowly, you got back on your feet, struggling to catch your breath.

“That’s more like it,” Sevika said, clearly amused. “But next time, try hitting me before you hit the floor again.”

You charged forward again, this time aiming lower, hoping to catch Sevika off guard. For a moment, it felt like your strike might land, but she caught your wrist and pushed you aside as if swatting away a fly. Her mechanical arm slammed into your shoulder. You felt your bones shift before crashing to the floor, hitting your head painfully against the ground.

"Come on, this isn’t nap time!" Sevika shouted, leaning over you. Her tone was mocking, but there was a glimmer of something—perhaps respect—in her eyes. "I’m not letting you slack off."

Embarrassed but determined, you forced yourself to stand again, ignoring your body’s protests. Each new attempt at an attack felt more desperate, and each time, Sevika countered with almost cartoonish ease.

"That punch was as soft as paper. I didn’t even feel it," she taunted with a wide grin. "Are you even trying, or just hoping I’ll tire myself out laughing?"

You lost count of how many times you felt the cold floor beneath you. Sweat drenched you, and your muscles trembled from the relentless blows. When she swept your legs out from under you again, you knew you couldn’t get up this time. Struggling to breathe, you saw her shadow looming over you. You braced yourself, ready to roll away if she tried to kick you, but instead, she extended her hand.

"Let’s say you’ve had enough for now," she said, her voice calmer, tinged with a hint of respect.

You took her hand and pulled yourself up. Standing felt impossible, so you dropped your head between your knees, battling nausea. Even during your worst withdrawal, you hadn’t felt this battered. The fact that she’d been holding back just to toy with you filled you with both respect and genuine fear. To think, she’d only been playing with you. She’d vented all her irritation, but if she truly believed you were nothing but trouble, you doubted you’d leave this room in one piece.

She tossed a towel onto your head and sat across from you, stretching out her legs. You looked at her, exhausted, envious of how untouched she seemed by the whole ordeal.

"How did you know I’d come here?" you asked.

"I didn’t. I just wanted to warm up and then drag you out of bed. Lucky for you, you saved me the trouble."

You glared at her, but she ignored it.

"What about Lacey?" you asked, wiping your face.

"No idea. Silco moved her somewhere as soon as he heard who you brought to the Last Drop."

You exhaled in relief. Lacey had been hunted by enforcers and other thugs. Sure, with Zarys gone, she wasn’t as critical, but you doubted Silco would just throw her out on the streets. She was probably a valuable hostage now, assuming her fractured mind contained any important information. If she could remember what had been done to her, she might provide damning evidence against the enforcers and Marcus. Even if it never made it to court, the rumors alone would wreak havoc.

The problem was, she still had your jacket.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath. "I know it’s not much, but thanks for looking after her yesterday."

Sevika snorted.

"You and Silco are the same," she laughed. When you gave her a questioning look, she added, "Dumping some stray on me and disappearing into the void. I can’t smack him around, so you get the beating for both of you."

"Why am I not surprised?" you chuckled bitterly.

For a moment, you pictured him taking the same punishment from her, but the thought made your blood boil. You shut your eyes, wiping the blood from your face. Apparently, her hit to your face had caused a nosebleed.

"Now it’s your turn."

Her words snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked at her, your face so flushed that she raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"What? For what?"

"You think a beating is enough? You’ve learned not to mess with me, so now we start over. From the beginning—what happened?"

"How far back are we talking?" you joked, but she wasn’t amused. "You know I broke into Marcus’s place, right? And that Silco wasn’t on board with my plan, I assume. Well, I managed to get her out, but things got messy—"

"Why am I not surprised?" she interrupted, mimicking your tone with a mocking smirk.

"—which meant I had to make a quick exit from Stillwater. I figured Marcus might find out, so—"

"No. You’re doing it again. Stop spinning the story and just tell me what went to hell."

You looked at her, slightly offended.

"Fine. I went in dressed as an enforcer. I lied, said it was an unofficial order from Marcus, and they probably believed me because they thought I was from Topside. Stupid decision on their part. One of the guards helped me look for her but wouldn’t leave me alone, so I pinned the chaos with Lacey’s missing records on her. She was stubborn as hell and ready to run straight to Piltover to claim some sort of reward. Guess she thought she’d get something for finding Lacey," you chuckled at the memory. "So, I left Lacey at the Last Drop and went after Zarys. I wasn’t wrong—Marcus found out about Lacey’s disappearance quickly. I couldn’t get Zarys out. Honestly, I still don’t know why he helped me," you said, your voice quieter, but Sevika’s intense gaze didn’t waver. "I started talking to him, trying to learn Marcus’s plans before we left. I didn’t know what would happen or if he’d betray me the second we got out of the tunnels. He didn’t know much beyond the shimmer production. Sevika... Marcus was testing it on people. There were so many others who went through what I did, but they died within days."

“Fuck…” she whispered, genuinely shocked. “I didn’t think the guy had the guts to pull something like that off.”

“I heard the footsteps too late. Zarys helped me hide. He died trying to extract information from Marcus. The only thing I managed to learn was that on Salo’s birthday, there’s going to be an explosion, and it’s tied to Silco. Which… doesn’t really change anything.”

She didn’t seem outwardly impressed, but the slight furrow in her brow told you she was thinking intensely about the sheriff’s plan. It didn’t add up. Shimmer was highly flammable, but to use it for an explosion? That made no sense. There were far better, cleaner, and more controllable methods. Shimmer was Silco’s trademark, but officially, no one knew who manufactured it. Even if Marcus tried to implicate him, a quick test would show it wasn’t the same shimmer flooding Zaun. Plausible, but ultimately defensible. It was obvious the sheriff had personal reasons for targeting Silco, but why develop a new variant? Honestly, it would’ve been easier to frame Silco using pure shimmer straight from the factory.

“And what about your little problem?”

“You mean the addiction?” you asked, glancing at your hands. “I don’t know. I took what Zarys gave me, but I have no clue if it worked.”

“You look like shit. Which is to say, pretty normal for you.”

You threw a damp towel at her, but it didn’t even make it halfway before flopping pitifully to the ground between you.

“Charming as ever,” you muttered with a forced smile. “No, it’s something else. I don’t know how it’s supposed to work, and Zarys isn’t alive anymore to ask.”

You collapsed onto the floor, the full weight of Zarys’ importance hitting you. His notes held nothing that could give you more clarity on the mixture. You’d barely managed to decipher his journal, let alone the scientific scribbles full of formulas.

“Then go to someone else,” she said with a shrug.

“What?”

“Well, if Zarys is dead, find someone else who can give you answers.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Right, because it’s just that easy to find another scientist who knows about this variant.”

“I don’t mean that, idiot,” she snapped sharply. “Silco didn’t develop this on his own. Whoever invented shimmer in the first place will know the most. With Zarys’ notes, they could tell you a lot more.”

You shot upright. It was more than logical. Someone had examined you the first time you took it. Silco had already mentioned twice that he had people who could analyze the vial’s contents. If not now, then when? Salo’s birthday was just days away. You couldn’t afford to be distracted or uncertain. You needed concrete answers about whether the variant had worked.

“Sometimes, you actually make sense!”

“Careful,” she warned, pointing a finger at you. “You just managed to zero out your debt. You want to piss me off again?”

You grinned as you struggled to your feet. Even though the fight had mostly consisted of you eating her punches, the exertion had helped. At least now, your thoughts were clearer, and you had a semblance of a plan. It was better than nothing. You weren’t thrilled at the thought of more testing, but if it was the only way to confirm your health, you’d grit your teeth and get through it.

“I guess I should thank you,” she said suddenly as you were halfway through unwrapping the bandages on your hands.

“No need,” you replied reflexively, not turning around, but when it hit you that Sevika had actually said thank you, you quickly added, “Wait, for what exactly?”

“I don’t know what you did to him, but it worked.”

You straightened up instantly, feeling your face flush. You returned to unrolling the bandages, trying to seem calm as you answered.

“You were right. One of us had to do it.”

You thought you heard a faint laugh, but the blood pounding in your ears drowned out everything. She might press you for details about work, but this? This was just yours. Sure, if she saw your face right now, she’d probably figure it all out, but you wanted to believe you were playing it cool.

Her laughter as she left the room didn’t subside, though, and you knew she had some idea of what had happened.

Not that she knew everything, and you had no intention of enlightening her. The moment she left, you made sure the door was firmly shut and then leaned heavily against the wall.

This is all I can give.

Those words haunted you. Sure, he’d said he’d try to give you an answer, but what then? Did you even know what you were doing? Gods, you’d asked Silco about his feelings for you like it was the most normal thing in the world. Of course, you needed to know before deciding your next steps, but the idea of doing anything with him felt simultaneously absurd and maddeningly enticing.

You were only human, and that kiss had done its job, even if there was nothing behind it but need.

In truth, you didn’t know what to expect from him. Certainly not grand declarations. The question was, what would you accept as a sufficient answer? You were playing with big emotions, completely unsure of what you wanted beyond confirmation that he felt something too. That was both enough and nowhere near enough. How long could you suppress your feelings around him before they broke free and made you abandon your principles?

“Ugh, who am I kidding,” you muttered to yourself, knowing you’d crumble the moment he touched you. “Pathetic.”

You weren’t ready to face him so soon. You thought you had more time to prepare, but after what Sevika had said, the timeline had collapsed. It was going to be an exceptionally humiliating conversation. What, were you supposed to walk in there, all the while remembering how good his lips tasted?

As if you could ever truly escape him…

***

Going through Zarys’ notes was no easy task. You’d thought you could decipher them and find a solution, but none of what you managed to read mentioned safe dosages. He hadn’t hidden it from Marcus—he’d given him a complete guide—but why hadn’t he included it in his research? His mind was chaotic, his speech erratic, but you hadn’t thought him careless in his note-taking. But what did you know?

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes. You tried to tune into your body, searching for any familiar symptoms, but everything seemed to be functioning as it should. Well, except for your muscles, which were sore from Sevika’s punches. But it was a good kind of pain, a sharp reminder that you were alive. Not the kind where you thought you’d die with your next breath.

Giving yourself hope for a better life seemed distant and out of place. You had grown used to living day by day, resigned to the possibility of death. Suddenly, you might have years ahead of you, and you didn’t know what to do with them. The number of possibilities loomed around the corner, ready to overwhelm you if you let your guard down even for a moment. And lately, you had done that quite often.

Almost as if you wanted to be punished—for treating your own life so dismissively. You wanted the path to breaking free from addiction to be full of suffering because you didn’t believe you deserved anything better. It shouldn’t be this easy. Easy solutions were for good people, not for someone like you. You had never received anything for free; you even had to fight for food. So why the hell would you get a second chance at life without paying for it? Suffering seemed like the only suitable price, but no one wanted to take that payment from you.

What you endured while searching for answers was absurdly difficult, especially when compared to the simplicity of the solution. No, it couldn’t be possible that your life could be reduced to just a few sips of a liquid invented by a scientist desperate to create a cure.

A cure.

Oh, fuck! Could that be it? You grabbed Zarys’s notes, but you had no idea what to look for. He had mentioned that he started his research to save his son. The note in Marcus’s office showed he had developed something safe. But what you drank wasn’t the final version. You wondered if, when he gave it to you in the factory, he was genuinely trying to atone—or just looking for a test subject. He couldn’t have known you needed it because addiction was eating away at your body, but you were no longer sure of anything when it came to that man. Such a cunning, scheming bastard. Your perception of him kept changing, so you let go of your anger, knowing that even in death, he would still manage to surprise you.

The guilt was even more overwhelming. You pulled your knees to your chest, knowing it was only a matter of seconds before a particular thought formed in your mind. When it hit you, you’d be at risk of breaking down—something you had no time for. The thought that you had taken from that child not only their father but also their chance at recovery left you gasping for air. Panic tightened its grip on you, making you feel utterly worthless.

You thought you finally knew the price of a new life.

You cursed under your breath, knowing irritation was the only thing keeping your tears at bay. It was late, but some problems couldn’t wait. You packed everything you had taken from Zarys’s lab into your backpack and left the room. At least now you had a reason to go back there.

At first, you wanted to ask him for help to find out if your body was finally working properly. But now fear was driving you—the fear that Zarys’s research might go to waste. You couldn’t bear the thought that an innocent child might be dying in a hospital because you couldn’t act professionally and got into an argument with Zarys instead of dragging him out of there by force.

You shivered without your coat, but you wouldn’t get it back until you found out where Silco had moved Lacey. It wasn’t that you couldn’t buy a new one. That coat held too much sentimental value. When you buried your nose in its fur collar, it brought you peace. That was what you needed now. But you had willingly given it to Lacey so she could find a moment of peace herself. You knew that if you went to get it back, you’d have to look her in the eyes. Were you ready to tell her the truth? Certainly not now, and you were beginning to doubt whether you’d find her at all.

For once, you were glad that the Last Drop was buzzing with conversation and music. The more stimuli entered your mind, the less room there was for fears. It was easy to lose yourself in it. You considered stopping by the bar, but the last time you did that, you ended up unconscious on Silco’s balcony. You had developed a strong aversion to the bartenders at the Last Drop, even if someone else was behind the counter now.

You turned abruptly and headed for the stairs. The weight of the mistake you likely made filled the stress of this meeting with even more turmoil. Ever since you had the shimmer-based prototype in your veins, the thought of being locked in a lab terrified you. And now you were about to offer it voluntarily. Was this stupidity or heroism?

You reached the top and had barely taken a step toward the office door when it opened, and Silco stepped out. You froze mid-step, unsure of how to react. It threw you off balance because you were used to him appearing and disappearing as he pleased. It was as if closing the door suddenly made him seem more human. He appeared as surprised by your presence as you were by his, but he recovered much quicker.

"I wasn’t expecting you at this hour."

You snapped out of it, feeling awkward.

"Are you leaving?"

"Did you come all this way just to ask that?" he asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

"No, sorry. I should have thought this through before coming here," you muttered distractedly.

Funny how often you found him in his office, enough to forget that conducting business didn’t only happen there.

"It can wait," he said, stepping back into the room. "Come in; I can see this is important."

You nodded, unsure how to interpret the tension that seemed to hang in the air. You had been in his office countless times, nearly bled out on his couch once, yet now you had no idea how to act. You watched his back as he returned to his desk, knowing he must remember all of it too. Slowly, you closed the door behind you, feeling that this small act of sealing off the outside world might tempt you into dangerous territory.

Silco picked up something from his chair. When you saw your coat in his hands, you sighed in relief and quickly approached him without thinking much. The familiar fabric under your fingers calmed you. You immediately put it on and instinctively buried your nose in the collar. The scent of soap and smoke grounded you. The problem was, you could still smell him on it.

He watched your behavior with a strange curiosity. Embarrassed, you stepped back.

"Thank you. I’ve been looking for this."

"Lacey wasn’t going to need it. Judging by the obvious damage, I figured it must be important since you hadn’t thrown it away."

You smiled faintly, looking at the roughly patched hole in the shoulder.

"You know, some things aren’t discarded just because one part is broken."

"Is that so?"

You glanced at him. He said it with a strange expression, as if you’d just uttered a profound truth. You ignored it and, feeling a little more confident, sat down on one of the chairs.

"What about her?"

"She’s been placed in a safe location. I can give you the address if you want to visit her."

"I’d like that, but not right now," you replied softly. "Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask you for something."

He seemed a bit surprised by your request. Usually, you demanded answers rather bluntly, so your polite tone must have caught him off guard. You saw the question in his eyes. You had to look away to regain your focus.

"You don’t have to wait for my permission," he teased, his tone lightly amused.

"Can you arrange this meeting with those shimmer people?"

That was probably not the response he had expected. The air soon filled with the smell of smoke as he sat down on his side of the desk, knowing that you were about to have a more serious conversation.

"Why are you asking?"

"I can’t shake the feeling that this dose didn’t work," you replied, staring at your hands again and clenching them tightly, waiting for an answer to somehow fall from the sky. "I need to know that everything’s fine and that I won’t have to go through the pain of withdrawal again."

Thinking about it now, it seemed incomprehensible how you had even managed to move when your head felt like it was about to explode from the pressure.

"Are you sure?" he asked seriously. "This could take days, and you’ll have to spend hours in the lab."

"I know. I understand that, but I won’t stop being afraid until I get an answer on paper. Sevika mentioned a man who helped you develop shimmer. Maybe he—"

Silco abruptly stood up, clearly upset. Surprised by his sudden outburst, you replayed your words in your head, unsure what could have been so wrong with what you said.

"No. Of all your ideas, this is by far the worst," he said through gritted teeth, stepping away. "Trust me, you don’t want to meet him."

"Why?" you asked, frowning. "If he’s the creator of the first version, he could surely find answers quickly with Zarys’s notes."

"No. Don’t ask me this," he replied firmly. "I know what he’s capable of, and I won’t put you in his hands."

It was absurd how even while refusing, he managed to do it in a way that made you ready to forgive him if he kept speaking in that tone. It took you a moment to gather your scattered thoughts.

"I understand, in that case…"

"There are other people who can achieve the same result as him. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise I’ll handle it in just a few hours."

You felt awkward, as if your request had been costly or demanding. You couldn’t help but wonder what this man had done to make Silco so adamant against letting him run a few tests on you. You didn’t doubt that others could tackle the issue just as well, but something told you it would take them much longer. You wanted answers as soon as possible, yet the way Silco spoke about that man suggested it was better not to press the matter.

With one problem off your mind, speaking to him suddenly became difficult. You thought about the words you had said on the rooftop and didn’t know how you should act now. Silco seemed slightly withdrawn, lost in thought after what you had just discussed. It was an unusually strange situation—very strange. If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that your feelings for him weren’t driven by the drug. You realized this more clearly as you watched him jot down something on a loose sheet of paper with intense focus. You found yourself staring at his hands for a little too long. Well, time to get back to your place. You stood up, fighting a slight sense of disappointment, ready to leave, but then remembered Lacey.

"Can you…"

"I wanted to ask you something."

You both spoke at the same time, the moment breaking the tension briefly. He nodded, letting you ask your question first.

"Can you give me her address? I’ll check on her. She should see at least one familiar face."

He tore off a piece of paper, scribbled something on it, and handed it to you, holding it between two fingers. You took it delicately, careful not to touch him, and tucked it into your jacket, then stuffed your hands into the back pockets of your pants.

"Thanks. What did you want to ask?"

He didn’t answer right away. Leaning against the edge of the desk, he allowed you to study his profile. He held a pen in his hand and slowly twirled it between his fingers. Was he nervous?

"I know our last conversation didn’t go as you might have hoped," he began, bringing everything you had been trying to suppress back into focus. "You caught me off guard with your words, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I apologize for my inappropriate behavior."

"It’s not—"

He turned his head slightly toward you, smiling faintly. Oh no…

"I don’t regret what I did, but I wish the setting had been different," he teased, as if waiting for your reaction, but then he quickly became serious. "It was impulsive. But I’m not sure you know what you’re getting into."

"What do you mean?"

"People who come into my life rarely come out of it unscathed."

He said it so calmly, as if his words held no weight. Was he warning you or trying to tempt you into taking the risk? You had long known that nothing with him was ever simple.

"I almost bled out in this place; it can’t get much worse, can it?"

You tried to joke, knowing it was your only defense against his seriousness, but he was far too serious. It was worth a try. You summoned all the composure you could find in your mind and commanded it to do the work for both of you.

"Do you think I don’t understand that? I know who I’m dealing with."

He pushed off the desk and walked closer, just within arm’s reach, but didn’t cross that line. It would have been wisest to step back—the scent of cardamom was becoming almost overwhelming—but you didn’t want to show him that you were retreating.

"No, you don’t," he said quietly. "I’m a dangerous man. Getting involved with me is a mistake."

You rolled your eyes at his cheap excuses.

"I’ve noticed, actually," you snapped back, causing him to lose his composure for a moment. "Isn’t it a bit late for warnings like that? Do you really think that’s going to scare me off? I’m not exactly innocent myself. And if Marcus finds out who got Lacey out of prison, every guard will know about me. So don’t start lecturing me about danger as if I haven’t known the risks for a long time."

How dare he bring this up now? Now, when there had already been something between you that couldn’t be forgotten, he suddenly decided to play the concern card. You scoffed, slightly irritated. You hadn’t been expecting any concrete declarations from him—you knew understanding his feelings took time—but this?

"As a matter of fact, they’re already looking for you. Or rather, someone posing as a guard who charmed half of Stillwater. By the way, nice work."

You stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t seriously think compliments would deflect the topic he had brought up himself.

"Don’t try to wiggle out of this by talking about work. What’s with those words? What are you trying to say? If you’re trying to scare me, you’ll have to do better because, right now, I’m more scared of Sevika than I’ve ever been of you."

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment, as if the conversation was as hard for him as it was for you.

“I’m trying to warn you that if you let me get close, there will be no turning back,” he said slowly, but with such intensity that your knees almost buckled. “Being intimate is all I can offer for now. You have to understand that.”

You shook your head, trying to show how much you disagreed, but the words wouldn’t come out. You paced a bit, searching for the right response, but nothing seemed fitting.

“Does that mean our relationship would only be... physical? Without feelings? You know I won’t agree to that. Are you retracting your words now?”

If he thought repeating himself would make you change your mind, he was gravely mistaken. Running his hand through his hair, he reached for another cigarette. You knew what might happen when you decided to come to him, but this conversation was becoming absurd.

“It’s not that. It’s not that I don’t want to… but I can’t allow myself to. Not right now.”

He spoke quietly, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to make a single mistake. He wasn’t looking at you, even though you desperately wished he would. If he looked, maybe he’d see you were willing to wait, as you’d told him so many times.

“Why?”

“We’re in the middle of a fight with the sheriff of Piltover. On top of that, the man who holds partial control over Zaun is collaborating with him. He could cause even more trouble if I don’t deal with him quickly,” he paused before finally looking at you. “I can’t put you first—and that would be disrespectful to you.”

“I don’t believe it,” you laughed bitterly. “That’s disrespectful to you, but offering me some kind of arrangement isn’t? I’m not that kind of person,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

Your words hit home. He gave you a startled look, as if he’d only just realized what he had been suggesting. His words stung. You couldn’t understand why he was so adamant about this when you’d made it clear you weren’t leaving, that you understood he needed time to sort out his life.

You’d hoped you wouldn’t feel anger toward him again, but his behavior made him seem like a complete fool who couldn’t grasp the simplest truths.

“I don’t understand you. You’ve already given me so much, and yet you’ve gotten nothing in return. I can’t give you anything more because… because I don’t know how. The closeness you’re talking about… it’s never been part of my life. A fleeting moment of pleasure is all I can give you right now. It’s all I know. I respect your decision, I understand why you refuse, but I don’t understand why you still want to stay by my side. What do you get out of it?”

You could picture grabbing him by his perfectly pressed vest and shaking him until something finally clicked. A tempting vision, but you limited yourself to an angry huff and throwing your hands in the air as you shouted,

“Because you’re worth it, you idiot!” You breathed heavily, unable to understand why he couldn’t see it. “You treat what’s between us like some kind of transaction, where both sides have to gain something. When will you understand that all I want is you, and I’m willing to wait until you see that?! If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t still be here.”

His ignorance was like fuel for your anger. Your outburst left him speechless this time. You gasped for air, trying to find calm, but even burying your face in your coat didn’t help, because everything seemed to smell like him. You knew he was watching you, but at that moment, you didn’t care. You must have been utterly foolish to stand by him despite his words. The problem was, you knew you’d come back anyway, because you genuinely believed he was worth it. It was a shame he didn’t think the same of himself, and you were too irritated to lead him by the hand toward self-acceptance.

“I shouldn’t let this happen. I should push you away. But I think I’ve become addicted to your presence. I don’t want to think about the day when you’ll stop yelling at me because you decide leaving was the better choice,” he murmured softly. “Egoistically I want to keep you for myself.”

He smiled smugly, satisfied with his words, as if this was yet another test to see how much you could endure. You watched in disbelief as he extinguished the cigarette butt, entirely calm. He stirred emotions in you that swung wildly from desire to fury. It was absurd.

“You are infuriating,” you said heavily.

“So are you, but it only makes me want you more,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. Those words were a mistake. I understand what you’re expecting, and if I still have your permission, I’ll try to find the answer you deserve.”

You had to bite your tongue not to admit that, honestly, you wouldn’t mind repeating that kiss. Still, you needed to stick to your words. Giving in under the weight of his gaze would have been a blow to your pride. You couldn’t and shouldn’t take back what you said. But it was excruciatingly hard as you looked at his lips.

“Thank you,” you replied weakly. “I should check on Lacey.”

“I won’t stop you,” he said, but you could hear the unspoken plea in his voice for you to stay.

You shook your head, fighting the strong temptation, but you had principles you couldn’t break, not even for him. Not even when he looked that good and tasted even better. You left without a word to avoid tempting fate further.

A more difficult conversation awaited you, though you secretly hoped Lacey wouldn’t be able to speak and would spare you the confession. You needed to occupy your mind to keep yourself from going back to him. Even if it hurt, talking to the widow of the deceased was something you owed her.

The address led you to one of the hospitals. You stared at the building for a moment, thinking you had the wrong place or that he had given you the wrong number. But everything checked out. It wasn’t wise to keep her in a crowded building. At any moment, she could lose control and start talking about what had happened to her. But Silco wasn’t foolish—not in this regard.

You entered the hospital, wondering if it would be wise to search for her under her real name. If the enforcers entered the city, hospitals would be high on the list of places to search. Then again, they probably wouldn’t expect Lacey to be in a public hospital. If you were in their shoes, you’d look deeper. The decision was risky but clever.

The problem was, you couldn’t trust anyone. Searching the entire building on your own would take too much time. People stared as you nervously glanced around, and whispers began to spread. You pulled your hood tighter over your head, ignoring propriety, and stepped into one of the corridors.

A woman in a lab coat approached from the opposite direction, looking like a staff member.

“Excuse me,” you stopped her with a question, “I’m looking for a friend. She should have been admitted here yesterday. In a state of severe shock.”

She looked irritated at being interrupted, but as you spoke, her expression shifted to one of growing unease.

“Wait here,” she snapped and disappeared into the crowd.

You spread your arms, stunned by how quickly she dismissed you. She told you to wait, but for what? You didn’t have time to follow hospital protocols. You wanted to wave it off and continue searching on your own, but someone tugged on your sleeve.

You turned around, startled, and saw a short, older woman wearing a coat similar to the one the other staff member had been wearing.

"Fourth floor. But don't go blabbering around about who you're looking for, are you crazy? She’s listed under the name Eden, so do yourself a favor and keep quiet about why you're here," the older woman said, shaking her head before turning to leave.

"Thank you?" you replied, startled by her abrupt tone.

"Don't thank me. She doesn’t have a chance."

You noticed that older people seemed to have an unsettling tendency to abandon hope more quickly than others, but this felt different. She spoke with a grave certainty, as if she'd seen cases like this far too often. Left standing in the middle of the corridor with no further explanation, you shrugged it off. It took you a moment to find the stairs.

What could she have meant by saying Lacey didn’t have a chance? You hadn’t seen any major physical injuries on her—her mind was what had suffered. Could she be at risk of losing herself to madness after everything? The thought of carrying another person’s broken fate on your shoulders was unbearable.

Once you reached the fourth floor, it wasn’t hard to locate her. There was only one room with a burly man stationed outside, his poorly concealed weapon betraying his role. A smirk tugged at your lips. Someone needed to teach him a lesson about sleeping on duty.

You approached him, giving his leg a nudge with your boot. He startled awake, immediately reaching for his gun—only to realize it wasn’t there. His fumbling hands froze as he saw you standing in front of him, holding his weapon.

"What the hell?!" he barked, panic creeping into his voice.

"You want to lose your job for napping?" you asked mockingly.

His glare was ready to challenge you, but as the realization dawned on him that you had caught him red-handed, his anger faltered.

"And what’s it to you, huh?" he growled.

Without hesitation, you stepped closer, leaning in as you pressed a blade lightly against his stomach. His eyes widened in fear.

"It’s not, really," you whispered, your tone dark. "But if something happens to her because of your negligence, you’ll answer to me with your life. Got it?"

He nodded quickly, scrambling to his feet the moment you stepped back.

You felt a sense of responsibility for Lacey, especially after what had happened to her husband. You were the only one she knew, the one who had saved her, and now you were carrying the burden of delivering devastating news. The mere thought of someone harming her in her fragile state filled you with an unfamiliar rage.

Pushing the door open, you entered the room to find Lacey sleeping, cocooned in a blanket like a child seeking refuge from the world. Sitting quietly beside her bed, you felt a sting behind your eyes. She might have been in her forties, but in that moment, she looked so small, so broken. It was a heartbreaking sight.

You were ready to tell her the truth about her husband’s death, but deep down, you knew you couldn’t do it. Maybe you should leave before she woke up. What would you even say when she asked about him? Tell her the truth? Lie that he was alive? Admit that he died at the hands of her tormentor? None of the answers felt right.

And then there was her son—a boy who, like her, lay in a hospital bed. Zarys had been working on something important, perhaps even groundbreaking, but that chance had been ripped away from him. Thinking about how you had inadvertently contributed to this family’s tragedy churned your stomach. The longer you dwelled on it, the more your anger shifted to Marcus.

Even if you hadn’t pulled the trigger, you had played a role in Zarys’s death. The chain of events had started when you saved Lacey, and everything else had crumbled like a house of cards. It felt wrong to escape this chaos unscathed, as if your survival was a cruel joke.

But no cruelty could compare to what Marcus had done.

You knew the pain that came with taking the drug. If Silco hadn’t been pragmatic enough to give you only a minimal dose, you might not have survived those weeks. Taking more would have killed you within days. That feeling—that torment—was what the prisoners endured as Marcus experimented on them.

Sure, some of those prisoners might have been deserving of their fate. But not all of them. Innocent people jailed for petty crimes had died horrifying deaths believing they had a shot at freedom. That could’ve been you. Before working for Silco, you had been alone, scraping by—you could’ve been thrown behind bars for a simple theft.

Marcus needed to face justice, and you wanted to deliver it personally.

Leaning over Lacey, you met her sleeping face with a determined glare.

"I promise you, Marcus will pay for what he’s done," you whispered. "And you can be certain—I’ll do it with my own hands."

Chapter Text

You might never fully understand why you felt responsible for her. There was no connection between you, you didn’t even know her, but the thought of her ending up on the streets in such a state was deeply unsettling. She came from the upper city, and in reverse circumstances, she probably wouldn’t have even flinched to help you. But how could you know that? For all you knew, Lacey could have been someone whose kindness no longer had a place in this world.

It wasn’t really about her specifically.

You saw in her the concentrated guilt of Marcus. Her very presence was a testament to just how rotten that man was. Hypocritical and cruel to the core, but hiding behind the mask of a sheriff. The mere thought of him filled you with disgust. You had suspected for a long time that Piltover was beginning to rot from its hidden crimes. That’s why, in a way, you were glad to belong to Zaun. At least here, no one pretended to be a good person.

Yet the question of why Marcus had devoted so much time to developing a new strain of shimmer, just to try and frame Silco for the explosion, still gnawed at you. It simply didn’t add up. Something was clearly missing from the puzzle.

You spent several hours by her side. It felt as though your legs were nailed to the floor, and the only way to escape was to confess your sins. It was for the best. Lacey didn’t deserve lies, yet you still tensed your muscles, ready to bolt every time she stirred. Only when visiting hours ended and you were nearly forced out of the hospital did you admit it was truly better to return home. You couldn’t predict when Lacey would wake up.

You asked if there was any chance someone could inform you when her condition improved, but no one met your eyes when you asked. Each of them acted as though she had no chance of recovery. Even if that were true, they shouldn’t think that way, right?

You clung to this thought, because the idea of being responsible for an entire family’s tragedy made it hard to see any sense in continuing to fight.

You walked back with your hands shoved deep in your pockets, doing everything you could to block out your thoughts and stay focused on the task ahead. You needed to occupy your mind quickly, or you’d lose yourself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped. When it turned out there were no tasks for you, you couldn’t find a place for yourself. You were too absorbed in your own problems to focus on talking to anyone.The sight of Zarys’ notes on the desk in your room was like a punch to the stomach every time you were there. You were tempted to go through them again, but understanding his train of thought while reading his journals was difficult. Wading through his notes and chemical formulas seemed almost impossible.

You knew you might be waiting a long time to meet with doctors or scientists, so you didn’t expect to get answers before the operation in the upper city. You were intensely curious about who was responsible for shimmer and why Silco deemed meeting with them unwise. You were tempted to ask Sevika, but she could be anywhere in Zaun, and you didn’t feel like looking for her. You never thought you’d say this, but despite your curiosity, you respected Silco’s decision. You had no reason to distrust him, so you decided it was wiser to simply let it go.

Of course, you’d never admit it to him, but life really did seem simpler when you just did as he asked. He could ask you for almost anything, and you’d gladly do it—but not right now.

It was interesting to wonder whether, if you had known how your life would turn out after agreeing to Leon’s idea to take on that job, you would still have been ready for the work. You stood firmly by your assessment that Silco was worth waiting for. In those rare moments when he allowed the mask of a ruthless bastard to fall, you saw the man beneath. And it was that part of his personality that made you unwilling to give up on him. You just hoped he wouldn’t make you wait too long.

You had strong principles, but even they began to crumble in the face of intense emotions.

By your calculations, there were still three or four days left until the main operation. You didn’t expect to be needed—you weren’t suited for any potential fighting—but you were the only one who knew the way down. It seemed risky and reckless for everyone to use the same entrance you had, but you didn’t know where the others were located. You still hadn’t figured out how the barrels made it down there, and the thought grew more enticing with each passing moment.

After everything you’d done, you didn’t think you’d have a tail if you ventured out. But on the other hand, acting on your own, just to prove something to yourself so close to the operation, didn’t seem rational.

For the first time, you decided it was better to consult Silco or Sevika before chasing answers.

It hit you that you’d been so consumed by work and your own problems that you’d forgotten how to handle free time. It felt almost inappropriate, given the scale of the mess you were caught up in. But what you wanted to do wasn’t available right now, and you were running out of ideas. You kept circling back to it, like poking a sore tooth. Once again, you returned to Zarys’ journal, trying to understand the man. If you managed to meet with people smarter than you, you needed to know exactly what you wanted to convey to them.

You doubted Silco would allow them to study the compound freely now that your life didn’t depend on it. You didn’t think he’d see the point in continuing research into the man responsible for your suffering. To understand that, you’d have to admit aloud that you blamed yourself for Zarys’ death. You knew Silco’s opinion of him—he couldn’t stand him with every fiber of his being. You didn’t want to appear weak in front of him, but the prospect of another death caused by your foolish actions was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring Lacey’s husband back, but maybe you could save her son.

No matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to return to normal.

Silco...

You thought about him far too often for your own good. If someone had told you back then that Silco, The Eye of Zaun, would become important to you, you’d have laughed and assumed they’d hit their head. It was the kind of truth that didn’t hurt. Funny, you’d always thought close relationships were a problem and only weighed a person down—just one more person to worry about.

But with him, it was different.

He inspired fear, and it was more rational to worry about those who crossed him. The fact that you could go through the day without wondering if something endangered him was a comfort. The problem was that, although he seemed to think the same, he still believed he owed you protection.

And he was clearly too stubborn to see that you could take care of yourself.

You didn’t go home that night. You spent hours watching the city from a rooftop. You needed a moment to sort through your thoughts, discarding the unnecessary to make room for more pressing questions. You wondered how many people down below would suffer if Marcus succeeded. You didn’t want to imagine how far Zaun might fall if Finn decided cutting deals with the sheriff was a better idea than fighting for independence.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an explosion.

For a moment, it felt like you were back at the beginning—on that night when the rest of your crew died in the fire at the docks. The only thing that didn’t match was the location of the flames shooting high into the sky.

You looked toward the eastern district.

Somewhere on the horizon, you saw tongues of fire rising quickly into the air and massive plumes of smoke. You knew this would happen, but witnessing it—even from a distance—made your heart leap to your throat at the thought of how many people might have died. It seemed to you that the wind carried with it a faint echo of screams, but you could just as easily have imagined it. Despite the logic, you believed that Silco wouldn't endanger so many employees to create a diversion.

So, it had begun.

The city would start buzzing with rumors about the explosion in a few hours. Questions and speculations would arise, and Silco would have to answer them. When the other barons found out about it, they wouldn't rush to help; they would start planning how to turn Silco’s temporary failure to their advantage. From this moment, things had to move quickly. You knew that Silco's people would expect an immediate response to such an affront. If you were in his place, you would publicly announce that it was an unfortunate accident. Piltover had no idea what Silco was involved in, and it was better that way.

Well, time to return before Sevika notices your absence.

It took you an hour to get to the facility. When you slipped through the slightly open door, as usual, you were greeted by the loud chatter. You could hear her voice cutting through the crowd, unmistakable and persistent. You saw a group of people downstairs exchanging opinions about the recent incident on the east side of the city.

"The orders are clear: no gossiping until the official decision. If one of you starts spreading what happened, I’ll find them and take care of what’s left of them, got it?" she shouted to the crowd. "We're leaving in two days, disperse!"

It was the first time you saw her give orders. You expected more threats and possible punishments, but Sevika was respected among these people. She didn’t need to instill fear for them to obey her. She probably took satisfaction in the sight of terrified faces, but the truth was, none of them would ever question her words. You knew the orders weren’t meant for you, so you tried to navigate through the crowd as quickly as possible.

When you made your way upstairs, you knew you wouldn’t escape her attention unnoticed. You realized you didn’t even want to avoid her. She could beat you senseless, but it was a deserved punishment—you didn’t blame her for that. You walked closer and leaned against the railing, distancing yourself from the crowd below. You were probably one of the few who consciously and willingly sought contact with her. Sevika leaned against the railing, slightly bent over, scanning the other workers as if one of them was about to announce they were a spy.

"Did anyone die?" you asked quietly.

"Two people," she replied seriously. "The risk was high anyway."

You nodded, unable to understand the feeling that had suddenly surfaced within you. At some point, a part of your sensitivity returned, and suddenly the death of two people felt too real. Occupational risk—that's what you should have called it. God, what was happening to you? Why did it suddenly matter? What did the death of two nameless people mean compared to the harm that could fall on everyone if Marcus continued playing his games?

"Do you want a drink?" you asked impulsively.

She sighed and pushed herself away from the railing, straightening up. You doubted what was bothering her was the same as what troubled you. Everything had become real, and you both knew it.

"Why is it that when you ask, I know it won’t just end with a drink?" she asked, shaking her head slightly. "Fuck this, come on."

You followed her, not sure why you had suggested it, but you felt she also needed to rest, though she wouldn’t admit it. Besides, you wanted to know if she had any tasks for you. You had shared everything you knew about the transport and doubted you’d be needed in the further operations, but you didn’t want to sit idly while others risked their lives.
Her room looked just as usual, except there was a sleeping bag spread out on the floor.

"Do you sleep here?"

She glanced at you as if that was the last question she expected. She poured the familiar-looking alcohol into glasses and almost shoved one into your hand before sitting heavily in the chair.

"Yeah, people like me need to close their eyes from time to time," she snorted at you, downing it in one gulp. "Fuck this day."

"I’m guessing not everything went according to plan?"

"Were you there?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "There was supposed to be no one inside. The factory had been closed for a few days due to a malfunction. Of course, two idiots thought they could steal something. They really chose the perfect night to sneak around."

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. You thought she had dozed off for a moment. You stared at the liquid in your glass, trying to understand where this newfound attachment to others had come from. Zarys' death had affected you more than you had realized. You had to focus on something to avoid making a stupid mistake. You were ashamed of yourself for not being as tough as you thought you were, and that embarrassment burned you to the core. Unfortunately, anger couldn’t burn away the guilt and shame.

"Do you have something for me?"

She shook her head, not opening her eyes.

"I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no. Rest, soldier," she muttered sleepily.

"Nothing? Are you sure?"

She growled low and opened her eyes. She was clearly irritated by the fact that you weren’t letting her rest.

"If you’re so desperate for something to do, you might as well start scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush. I don’t care. I have nothing for you," she repeated.

You put your glass down and stretched your legs out in front of you. You didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts. Escaping into alcohol didn’t seem wise. However, you doubted Sevika would be eager to listen to your dilemmas. No, that wasn’t something you should burden her with. You knew what you were getting into when you took this job. You wanted to welcome your own death with a weapon in your hand, not accept someone else's. Did you really value your life so little that you placed it beneath the life of the person responsible for your suffering? Pathetic.

You reached for your glass abruptly and quickly downed the rest of the liquid, savoring the burn in your throat. You wiped your mouth and frowned. In this state, you wouldn’t be fit to protect an empty warehouse. You wouldn’t even give yourself a task.

"I have an idea," you began, seeing how Sevika raised her hand to silence you, so you quickly added, "Before you interrupt me, I promise I won’t do this without permission."

She quickly got up at the sound of your words. It must have sounded ridiculous coming from you.

"I don’t believe you. Why?"

"Let’s say my recklessness has caused me more trouble than it’s worth," you mumbled. "Anyone you send for an operation at the upper level won’t manage to sneak in the way I did. Let me go back, I’ll check other routes and..."

"I know," she interrupted calmly. "I’m not stupid. You think I’d send my people on an operation without checking the place?"

"But you said..."

"Shit, I even miss your stupid ideas. The day you don’t question Silco’s plans is a wasted day," she scoffed. "That’s your task for tomorrow, you idiot."

"You said you had nothing."

"We both know that if I told you now, you’d be heading to Piltover tonight."

You wanted to stick your tongue out at her, but unfortunately, she was right.

“So why are you telling me this now?”

“Listen, I’ve known you for a long time. I don’t know why you’re so determined to get involved in this, but I’m not asking, it’s not my business. If I ignored your words, you’d think you know better and go there anyway. It’s Silco’s idea, maybe that’ll calm you down.”

“You’re mean,” you admitted quietly.

“And you’re foolish if you’re so quick to admit that you won’t ignore his orders,” she laughed. “Good thing you finally came to your senses, though now I’m curious about what methods he used.”

Suddenly, you really regretted that your glass was empty. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let on that she’d hit a sore spot.

“Alright, then you might as well give me the details.”

“To tempt you to do it your way? No way,” she threatened, wagging her finger at you.

You took a deep breath, feeling a strange calm wash over you. Yes, you still believed Elijah needed the medicine, but you knew that the best option would be to turn your guilt into determination to punish Marcus for what he had done. You stood up, ready to face your fears, but Sevika stopped you, throwing a single folded sheet of paper onto the desk.

"I was going to give this to you later, but since you're here, take it. I won't have to run after you later," she yawned.

You reached for the note. It was an address and a time. You knew who it was from. You would recognize that handwriting anywhere. Well, he probably planned to give you more details about this task, but why in a completely different place than the Last Drop?

***

It was interesting that, despite years spent in Zaun, you had never truly delved into the secrets behind the walls of houses stacked one upon the other. The address led you near the northern bridge. It seemed risky to handle matters so close to the Piltover border, but at least the road to the city was shorter.

The building you arrived at was unremarkable. A simple, unassuming structure that could hide any number of secrets. You saw no reason to be particularly cautious—after all, you had been invited here. When you approached the door, you stopped halfway at the sight of the grime covering the doorknob. You ran your fingers over the gaps between the door panels and noticed cobwebs. Was this the entrance? Another test? Or perhaps just additional precautions?

You stepped back a few paces and looked up, surveying the building. It looked like an abandoned tenement—dirty windows, chipped walls, no sounds coming from inside. Another property being used as a cover for unknown purposes. You touched your backpack, making sure the lockpicks were in place, then headed for the alley between the houses. You jumped over a fallen trash can and sighed in irritation. Why had Silco brought you here? If he needed a change of scenery, he could have left instead of sending you wandering through stinking alleys.

The back door looked used—it was different from the dusty front one. When you pressed the handle, you felt relief—it wasn't sticky. The door opened easily, without resistance. You nodded to yourself and stepped inside. You didn’t know what to expect, so you decided not to use your flashlight to avoid giving away your presence. But before you could take a look around, the corridor lit up as the lamps turned on simultaneously.

You stood at the beginning of a short hallway. Three lamps illuminated the narrow passage. You took careful steps, listening for sounds, but there was a dead silence. Was the building really empty? Why the hell had he sent you here?

You reached another door. You reached for the handle and pushed it carefully. The sight behind it surprised you. You had no specific expectations, but this… definitely wasn’t it. You found yourself in a room that resembled a garden—the damp smell of earth almost overwhelmed you. You automatically covered your nose with your hand.

"Ready?" you heard a voice that made you jump.

"Shit, don't scare me like that!" you hissed, trying to calm your breath. "Why do you need my skills when you sneak around so well?"

He didn't comment on your remark. He walked past you and headed toward the stairs going down. You followed him.

"Why are we here?" you whispered, feeling as though each word echoed out to the outside.

You ran down the stairs, trying not to make noise, but the familiar scent made your legs momentarily betray you. You slipped on one of the steps, barely catching the railing. Your heart raced, and your thoughts circled one thing—you would recognize it everywhere.

Shimmer.

An ordinary drug wasn’t a particular threat to you, not like this specific variant, but it was still incredibly annoying. You didn’t feel it incapacitating or drawing you in, but it agitated your nerves and caused stress. Your throat felt slightly tight, and a ridiculous thought about a sweet taste on your lips appeared in your mind. But you knew you could control it. Silco turned to face you, and his appearance made you forget the smell for a moment.

"Can you handle it?" he asked shortly.

You nodded, trying not to reveal the growing tension. Now you understood why he brought you here. Inside, conflicting emotions mixed. Recently, he complained that he couldn’t organize a meeting in a few hours, yet here you were, standing in a laboratory less than twelve hours later. It was… nice, even though it contradicted his earlier words.

You remembered that there had been an explosion last night—you hadn’t asked for the details yet, but he must have had his hands full. Maybe you should thank him? Instead, what came out of your mouth was:

"When was the last time you slept?"

He frowned.

"What kind of question is that?"

"You look terrible," you replied without thinking.

His gaze pierced you with coldness, but you didn’t notice it, too absorbed in observing the surroundings. The tables were covered with strange devices and glass containers, just like in Zarys' lab, but you didn’t see anyone working here. Where had they all gone?

"I'll pretend you didn’t say that," he sighed heavily.

You realized what you had just blurted out and began gesturing in a chaotic attempt to fix the situation.

"No, it’s not like that! You look fine, really… as always. It’s just those dark circles under your eyes could scare the dead," you explained, feeling every word just made it worse. "Sorry."

He furrowed his brows slightly, then sighed and said with a bitter smile:

"You don’t have much time, so focus on how you want to sort this out, not on my appearance, okay?"

You swallowed the laugh rising inside. You missed his sarcastic tone. You looked around the lab once more, wondering why it was so empty. Did the employees have the day off? Or maybe they started their shifts later? Whatever the reason for their absence, it worked in your favor. You didn’t want to feel the judging gazes, especially now when the thought of tests was starting to stress you out.

A moment later, a young man appeared from around the corner. He couldn’t have been older than thirty. He was tall and a bit too thin for his height, but he made up for it with energy.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, looking at you with interest.

"I left the orders, so don’t play dumb," Silco snarled at him.

The man jumped in fright. You realized that up until that moment, he had only seen you, and the presence of his boss must have been a big surprise for him. He straightened his shirt collar and cleared his throat, trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

"Yes, of course. Sorry," he muttered, giving a pale smile. "We haven't conducted human trials yet; our methods may be a bit crude, but everything is completely safe. I understand it's about you?" he addressed you with an expectant look, as if begging you to save him from Silco's wrath.

"Uh, yeah," you responded awkwardly.

"Great. I'll prepare a few questions before we begin, alright?"

You shrugged, which he apparently took as an approval. He disappeared into another room at a speed as if his life depended on it. Looking at Silco’s expression, it probably did. The stress was tightening its grip on your throat.

"What should I tell him?" you asked quietly, unable to hide your nervousness.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with such calmness, as if smoking among so many chemicals was entirely normal.

"Say what you think is necessary."

"What about..."

"What you think is necessary," he repeated sharply, stressing every word.

He gave you full permission to tell someone other than Sevica about what happened. There was no provocation in his words. He wasn't testing you or seeing if you'd keep it to yourself. Despite the freedom you had during your conversation with the scientist, there were some things you just couldn't say out loud. You didn't want to get into unnecessary details about how your body reacted to the addiction. The mere recollection of how you behaved when consciously delaying the next dose was hard enough.

You watched him for a while, trying to read his intentions. But apart from the incredible exhaustion, you didn’t see anything else. He looked like he could barely stand. He leaned against one of the tables, as if it were holding him up, while the ash from his cigarette fell to the ground, completely ignored.

"Thank you," you began softly. "I know it must have been difficult to organize all of this so quickly, especially now, after last night..."

"Not here," he interrupted you calmly, though there was a subtle warning in his voice. "You’ll thank me later."

His words surprised you, but you didn't take them as rejection of your gratitude. They seemed to suggest that the circumstances weren't right. Slowly, you began to understand his way of thinking, which made the conversation with him less frustrating. The silence between you became more comfortable, devoid of tension and unspoken words.

A moment later, the man returned to the room with a clipboard full of loose papers and sat at one of the less cluttered tables. He gestured for you to sit across from him and began asking questions. Some were very general, about the circumstances of your drug use. You answered truthfully, though you felt the memories starting to blur faster than you'd like. At some point, you stopped simply answering the questions – you began to tell the story.

Going back to those events when death didn’t hang over you made the memories take on grotesque shapes. You exaggerated certain details, though you suspected it was more due to how much you had underestimated your condition at the time. You had been on the brink of life and death much more often than you had ever thought.

Finally, you couldn't hold back and asked him his name. The man – Rey – briefly tore himself away from his notes and looked at you. He listened intently, more and more absorbed in your description of the pain, to the point where he stopped writing anything down. In his eyes, you saw something that worried you: scientific fascination. You were afraid of that look. You were afraid that you would become a test subject, a means to results, nothing more. Every day, you avoided that by taking shimmer – knowing you could learn the most from it, but also losing yourself in the process. And now you were about to voluntarily submit to the tests, knowing that shimmer had long since left your body. You felt its absence. You knew it was no longer in you.

No matter how deep you dug into your memory or how much you lost yourself in the memories of pain – in every second of this conversation, you were aware of Silco’s presence. Rey glanced behind your shoulder from time to time, and there was a constant fear in his gaze. You suspected that without Silco there, you wouldn't have been able to get through all of this. You finished your story at the moment you took a new dose. Rey wrote down every word with astonishing speed, as if each one were priceless. From a scientific standpoint, you knew your case could be one in a million. You wished you could look at it that way – coolly, analytically – but it was your life. Your body. You carried something in you that Rey would eagerly study, if you only gave him permission. But you knew the taste of being treated like an object. Never again.

Rey slowly stood up, clutching his notes in his hands.

"Well, there's nothing left to do but proceed with the tests. Shall we?" he asked, gesturing for you to follow him.

"Since I must..." you muttered under your breath and headed deeper into the room.

Behind you, you heard Silco's footsteps. Despite the fear, you were relieved he wasn't leaving you alone with the scientist. At the same time, you felt guilty for taking him away from more important matters. Rey turned a corner, and you seized the moment to address Silco.

"It's nice that you're keeping me company, but I'm sure you have more urgent matters to attend to."

"Right now, the most urgent thing is making sure this kid doesn't screw up his job," he replied quietly, but his tone was like a blade – menacing and ruthless.

A little calmer, you smiled faintly. You weren't the only selfish one here. You caught up with Rey a bit further. He hadn't even noticed you weren't right behind him for a moment. You reached a set of dark metal doors halfway down the corridor. The man stopped with his hand on the handle, blocking the entrance with his body. He turned to you both, looking clearly embarrassed.

"As I mentioned, we haven’t conducted any human trials yet. There hasn’t been a need. Before we go in, I want to emphasize that the equipment might seem... a bit primitive, but I assure you, it works perfectly."

You nodded, though you felt unable to say anything. In your mind, you already saw yourself hooked up to hundreds of wires through which more unknown substances would be injected. You flinched. Rey opened the door and let you both inside. Silco shot him a look, not allowing the man to lag behind. Rey stepped in after you, nervously rolling the notes he was holding into a scroll.

Your gaze fell on the equipment in the room, and the desire to escape grew with each passing second. In the center stood a simple bed – identical to the one you had seen in the hospital at Lacey’s, though with the backrest raised. Nearby were machines and tools whose names you wouldn't even try to remember. You knew it had all been put together quickly to meet Silco’s requirements.
You approached the bed and touched its metal backrest, but immediately pulled your hand back, feeling the cold metal.

"We spent a long time considering the form of the test, not knowing exactly what kind of problem we would have to face. In order to check if there are any traces of the substance left in your body, we will need to draw some blood. We are not yet sure where exactly to look, so it may be necessary to take several samples. We can also analyze your genetic code today, but for that, we will need a sample of your bone marrow. I must inform you that taking bone marrow may be painful. I am required to inform you of everything before we begin. You can withdraw at any time."

He explained all of this in a calm tone, even though you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on one of the machines, and after a moment, he added:

"I need your verbal consent."

You flinched slightly, nodded, and took two deep breaths.

"Okay, I agree. But I’m not sure I can go through all of this in one day," you replied quietly. "I need to know today if I’m healthy."

You turned around but briefly lost your rhythm when you saw the concern on Rey's face. He was looking at you as though he wasn’t sure whether you were being sincere. You couldn’t reassure him – you were barely holding yourself together, fighting with your thoughts. In front of your eyes, you had a vision of your blood escaping through the transparent tubes. You weren’t afraid of needles or the sight of blood. It was the unknown – what was happening inside you and what you couldn’t control – that was making you feel nauseous.

In order for the examination to proceed, you needed to give Rey something that had lately been more precious than gold – your trust. And you weren’t ready for that. You looked at Silco. He was standing close to the door, his gloomy gaze fixed on the scientist. His presence made everything seem simpler. You knew Rey wouldn’t dare to do anything reckless with his boss nearby.

"Thank you. I’ll prepare some reagents. Make yourself comfortable," Rey said, though he hesitated by the door. He glanced at Silco as though afraid he had done something to incur his wrath. But Silco was already looking at you.

His grim expression had changed – now he looked worried. As if he were reading your thoughts and seeing that you were on the verge of panic. Even though you hadn’t done anything that day except come here, you felt exhausted. You sat down heavily on the bed. The material gave off a disgusting, creaking sound. It was good you hadn’t eaten too much – you knew you wouldn’t have been able to keep it down.

You lowered your head, intertwining your hands so tightly that your fingers began to hurt. You counted your breaths, but even by the tenth, the stress hadn’t diminished.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked softly, his voice was gentle, almost uncertain.

"I need to know," you replied firmly.

You weren’t sure whether he had nodded at your words. Somewhere in the distance, you heard footsteps – Rey was probably returning to complete the examination. You huddled in tighter, trying to convince yourself that fear couldn’t overpower your need for knowledge.

You heard a soft rustling – Silco had finally moved. You were afraid he might leave you now. You quickly raised your head and blurted out without thinking:

"Can you stay?"

Your question didn’t surprise him, or at least he didn’t show it. His features softened for a moment before his mask of composure returned. You didn’t want to burden him with your fears, but at that moment, you needed his support more than air.

"Of course. I won’t leave you here alone," he answered calmly.

You smiled weakly, unable to respond. A moment later, Rey returned with several vials. The sight of them reminded you of everything you had been through, and you flinched slightly, feeling the tension in your muscles pulling you toward escape. He placed the vials on a small cabinet beside you, then took your hand. You stiffened for a moment as you felt his touch, but Rey was too focused on his work to notice anything.

You watched as the needle slowly disappeared under your skin, and suddenly everything around you started to blur. You blinked quickly, trying to bring your vision back into focus, but your eyes were clouded.

"What if I faint?" you asked in a weak, trembling voice.

"It won’t interfere with the examination. If you want, I can give you something to strengthen you," he replied matter-of-factly.

You wanted to nod, but before you could say anything, Silco pushed away from the wall and stepped closer.

"No. I know what you have available. Even trace amounts of shimmer are dangerous," he interrupted firmly, maintaining a serious tone, then turned to you. "You can take this."

At first glance, it might have seemed like Silco was forcing you to endure these tests beyond your limits while denying you any relief from your suffering. But you knew better. Even those few words showed how well he understood you. He knew you didn’t want anything to do with shimmer ever again. He believed in you. He believed you could do it because you were stronger than it seemed.

It was fascinating how accurately he read your thoughts and feelings. You nodded and took a deep breath. Your heart, which had been pounding wildly before, started to beat more steadily.

"This will take a while. Lie down comfortably, if you want. I’ll take the first sample to my colleagues," Rey said, trying to calm you down.

You wanted it to work, but at that moment, the only thing you wished for was to rip the needle out of your arm and forget you had ever agreed to this madness.

"Sir, could you wait in another…" Rey began hesitantly, glancing at Silco.

"No," Silco interrupted, never taking his eyes off you.

Rey threw him a surprised glance as he left with the sample. He was probably wondering who you were, since Silco seemed so concerned about your condition. You wanted to analyze it, try to understand what Rey might have been thinking, but exhaustion and blood loss brought on a tempting drowsiness. You fought it for a moment, but that battle had already been lost from the start.

***

Waking up was always different. Sometimes you realized you weren’t asleep anymore before you even opened your eyes, and sometimes something – usually Sevika – would jerk you out of your dreams. This time was different. You felt tingling in your arms, numb legs, and a strange pulsing in your head. You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious. For a moment, you weren’t sure where you were, but the smell of chemicals in the air and the bright light above your head reminded you of what had happened before, leaving you with your heart pounding against your ribs.

You turned your head and, with a mixture of relief and surprise, noticed that you weren’t alone. Realizing that Silco must have been watching over you the whole time you were asleep made you feel a little embarrassed. There was something oddly pleasant about it, but also unsettling. You wanted to pull yourself up, but your hands refused to obey. On your shoulder, you noticed three bandages – clearly, Rey needed more samples while you were sleeping. You didn’t trust him, but the presence of Silco by your side reassured you that Rey hadn’t done anything against your will.

“You stayed,” you whispered, your voice tired.

“Why are you so surprised?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not. It was an observation,” you replied with a faint smile, lowering your legs to the floor.

The change of position caused a brief dizziness, but not strong enough to be ignored. You had expected worse effects – nausea, muscle pain – but everything seemed fine. You clenched your fists a few times, testing their strength. The injection sites tingled slightly, but otherwise, you felt good.

“What did I miss?” you asked, wanting to break the silence.

“Not much. Four blood draws. Rey left with the last sample half an hour ago. The results should be ready soon.”

The fact that everything was nearing its end made it easier to breathe. The weight you had been carrying started to slowly disappear.

“You really should rest,” you noted, looking at him.

He seemed increasingly tired, his posture slightly more slumped than usual.

“I’ll rest when I’m sure you’re safe,” he replied calmly, with his usual determination.

Being with him in moments like this was difficult. His care and protectiveness made everything in you scream to find a way to get closer. But Silco always kept his distance, making it all the more frustrating. You had wanted to ask him something for a long time – something that had been on your mind since the last meeting – but before you could gather the courage, the door slammed open.
Rey walked in as if he owned the place. You wanted to shout at him to leave, but before you could say anything, his words changed the mood in the room.

“You’re not sleeping. That’s good,” he began with a noticeable relief. “We’ve checked everything we could for now, and I’m happy to say there’s no trace of shimmer in your system. Your blood is clean, the drug isn’t lingering anywhere. As you said, we noticed signs of cell breakdown, but the mutations remain a mystery. Of course, there’s a long way ahead for your body to fully regenerate,” he was reviewing the results, as if looking for something else to add, but eventually, he shrugged and smiled. “You’re healthy. A little battered inside, but your life isn’t at risk anymore from that strain. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Can you leave us alone?” you asked slowly, feeling your voice tremble.

Rey didn’t argue. He left a stack of papers with the detailed results on the bed beside you, then quickly exited, closing the door behind him. You hadn’t felt such relief in a long time. All the stress about the future seemed to fade with each passing second. The feeling of freedom – real freedom – was almost overwhelming.

For the first time in weeks, you were healthy.

You covered your face with your hands, feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks without permission. You laughed softly, a bit hysterically. You didn’t know what the future held, but – oh God – these coming days could be the best in a long time.

“This is… oh God, I don’t even know if you can imagine the scale of relief I’m feeling right now. I feel better than after the first dose, if that’s even possible,” you said, your voice sounding like a mixture of joy and relief.

Silco nodded slightly, smiling reservedly. He moved closer until he was almost within arm’s reach.

“We have to go. Reality won’t wait.”

You jumped off the bed with more energy than you should have. You forgot that despite feeling perfectly fine, your body still needed to rebuild its lost blood supply. Your legs buckled beneath you, and the world spun. Silco reacted instinctively – he reached out and caught you at the waist, preventing you from falling. He staggered slightly, groaning quietly from the effort, but didn’t let go. Even at the edge of exhaustion, he had enough strength to support you.

For a brief moment, you were dangerously close. The air around you filled with the familiar scent of cardamom. You remembered the moment when he had been just as close – when he kissed you. Thoughts flooded your mind, but this time, you weren’t going to pull away.

You quickly stood up, straightened your back, but didn’t move a step away from him. This moment was too important to interrupt. You were tempted to rest your head on his chest, to feel his calmness, but instead, you gathered the courage to ask the question you had been carrying for so long.

“Why is this so difficult for you?”

Silco furrowed his brow, his face darkening.

“What are you talking about?”

Reluctantly, you took a step to the side. You had to see his face when you said it. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes when you moved away.

“You said you wanted to give me the answer I deserve. But how can you know what that answer is if I don’t even know what I deserve? I only know that it’s hard for me to show you my feelings when you keep your distance from me. I never said I didn’t want your closeness. It’s you who sees it in black and white: either everything or nothing. I just want to know if you feel something for me. And I don’t mean caring about my health.”

You didn’t expect him to answer immediately. He remained silent for a long moment. You could see him clenching his jaw, as if the words were struggling to break free, but something was holding him back. You knew he was fighting with himself, but you couldn’t tell what was winning that battle.

“The last time I admitted to myself that someone was important to me… those people lost their lives. I won’t make that mistake again,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, as if breaking under the weight of memories.

You looked at him, feeling a mixture of irritation and pain.

“You’re starting to make sense,” you remarked, dissatisfied with his vague answer. “Is our relationship a mistake?”

“Don’t twist my words,” he replied firmly, but with clear tension. “The truth is, anyone who gets close to me dies. It’s something I have to live with.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” you said, shrugging slightly.

You had been close to death too many times not to know how good life tasted. With him, it could taste even better.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered with a quiet persistence you hadn’t seen before. “I can’t let anyone hurt you. Let alone me hurt you.”

That was too much. You smiled faintly, then took a step toward him. You heard him trying to control his breath. His eyes widened slightly when you approached, but he didn’t move. You found a little satisfaction in seeing his uncertainty – it was rare in his behavior.

“Well, good thing you’re not the one deciding that,” you said gently, feeling that maybe you were finally getting through to him.

“What now?”

“I know exactly how much you love to have control over everything. But not in this case. You won’t decide for me whether you’re worth the risk because my answer will always be the same. I’ve already told you, you’re worth waiting for.”

The distance between you was a breath apart. So little, and yet, a chasm. You saw his gaze focus on your face, as if looking for signs of uncertainty. But your determination confused him. You were ready to stand like this for hours if necessary.

He was the first to look away. You had the feeling he was embarrassed by losing control of the conversation. He avoided your gaze as if he feared you’d see something he wasn’t ready to say aloud. You waited for him to say something more, to cross the boundary he had set for himself, but the silence seemed endless.

You took a deep breath, deciding you wouldn’t push. Not now. If he was going to open up, he had to do it on his own terms.

“Well, since reality won’t wait… What’s my task?” you finally asked, your voice calm, though there was a note of determination in it.

Chapter Text

You were just as naive as you suspected.

No, not because of your faith in him. Sitting there for hours locked in the cell, you tried to sort out your emotions. You thought you knew what you felt, but what you thought was deep was just the tip of the iceberg. Silco was closed off and rarely allowed himself to show real emotions. You understood that—someone in his position had to be sure of their actions, showing neither weakness nor hesitation. But whatever had happened in his past had forever defined his attitude toward close relationships.

You’d lived in Zaun all your life, but you never cared about what was happening in the city. You didn’t even know of his existence until he reached for power. A brutal industrialist, a man with clear goals, who wasn’t afraid to reach for them at any cost. He was ruthless and cruel—you doubted Zaun knew any other way.

But that wasn’t everything.

Today, you saw something new in him—the fear of being hurt again. He had built impenetrable walls around himself. The Zaun community saw only what he allowed them to see. You were curious about what had happened in his past. If close people once surrounded him, it meant he hadn’t always been so cold and distant. Did he lose them in tragic circumstances? Was it then that something inside him broke? Maybe it was from that pain that the monster everyone now saw was born?

The image of The Eye of Zaun was certainly convenient and effective. It was the only way for others to take him seriously, with fear. You realized that, in truth, you knew very little about him—only what he had chosen to reveal to you. On your way back to grab the equipment for the mission, you tried to recall whether you had ever heard anything more about him than rumors filled with fear. You were starting to feel a burning need to know him better.

You hadn’t intended to ask people about the details of his past—you knew that information belonged to him, and he was reluctant to share it. But you wanted to know who he was before he became the most dangerous man in the underground.

That thought wouldn’t leave you. You were facing a demanding task—you had to study the tunnels, outline the entrances and escape routes, gather information about patrols and guards. That should have been your priority. But that curiosity sat under your skin, scratching at you from the inside, until it felt like your brain was itching. The only relief could come from answers to the questions multiplying in your head.

You felt the pull of duty clash with your fascination. Every moment spent in these thoughts seemed like a betrayal of the trust placed in you. They believed you’d handle the task, and you had to set aside the desire to understand Silco for a moment.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping through your fingers like rushing water. Moments blurred into one another too quickly for you to organize them. From the very beginning, everything had been moving at a dizzying pace, but in the last few days, the chaos seemed to be growing. Paradoxically, you had wanted this. You’d complained that when you had no tasks, you spent your time worrying about things you no longer had control over. And when they finally assigned you something serious, it bothered you that you couldn’t think in peace.

Absurd.

You didn’t know what would be useful today. You had a day to gather information. The closer you got to the action, the smaller the chance the enemy would change their patterns. Following a lone person and reporting their steps was one thing, but planning an escape route for a whole group—that was a whole different level of responsibility. Their lives depended on the quality of your information.

The stress was beginning to show. You had to set aside the lockpicks for a moment, stop checking their condition, and focus on calming your breath. You’d never suspected you could work in a team. You’d spent your whole life working alone. Even during thefts, no one accompanied you—if things went wrong, you were the only one who would face the consequences. Now, everything was different. A mistake on your part could cost someone else’s life. You couldn’t fail. Not again.

You intensely considered the best route. Entering from the city side was out of the question—such a large group wouldn’t escape the guard’s attention. Besides, Marcus could have changed the patrol routes, ensuring that the tunnel entrances were constantly monitored. Too risky. The best option seemed to be crossing through the river—quickly and quietly. Of course, planning the entire operation wasn’t your job. Your task was to prepare possible options. However, you were getting more involved than you should have—you felt personally connected to this matter.

There was only one thing bothering you: the possible contact with shimmer. You didn’t know how your body would react to it now that you were healthy. The sooner you got rid of that filth, the better. The thought of it made you nauseous. You were glad your role in the mission didn’t require direct contact with that awful, sweet-sticky smell.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the opening of the door. The lockpicks you had carefully packed spilled onto the floor.

“Damn it,” you muttered, not even looking to see who had interrupted you. “What now?”

“Hold off on leaving,” you heard a familiar voice.

You glanced to the side and saw Sevika standing in the doorway.

“What? Why?” you asked, growing more frustrated.

Sevika stepped inside, slamming the door behind her. She looked tired—probably still hadn’t rested from the previous night.

“Someone claims they saw Lacey in the Lower City. Marcus is apparently on edge and issued new orders. There are guards all over the bridges. They’re checking everyone trying to get into the Upper City. You won’t be able to get through now.”

You tossed your backpack onto the desk and slumped heavily into the chair.

“Great news,” you muttered angrily. “What now?”

Sevika shrugged, completely unfazed by your tone.

“If you’ve got an idea, now’s the time to share it. If not, sit your ass down and wait for the patrol change.”

You sighed heavily. It was only getting close to evening. The first shift change wasn’t until 10 p.m. Last time, you managed to sneak by because of the weather, but tonight it was forecast to be quiet and calm. You’d have to pull some serious acrobatics to avoid them. You could take a longer route and try through Green District, but you weren’t sure if there were guards there as well. The risk was too high.

“Damn it,” you cursed quietly, knowing time was slipping through your fingers. “Thanks for the warning.”

You had a day to find a few entry points, but your original plan had involved checking everything in detail. Maybe you’d discover something more about Marcus’s plans or the factories producing shimmer. But with these patrols, you were losing precious hours. You had to change your strategy and take the risk.

“And that’s it?” Sevika asked in surprise. “No throwing chairs at the wall? Did they swap you or what?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling like you missed something.

Sevika squinted, looking at you suspiciously. You knew that look – it was a mix of distrust and analysis.

"You know what? No. I'm leaving. If you're this calm and even thanking me, it gives me the chills."

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and then headed for the door. That’s when you realized you were standing in front of someone who might know the most about Silco.

You jumped up, knocking over the chair.

"What was he like?"

Sevika stopped halfway and looked at you in disbelief.

"Who are you talking about now?"

"Silco."

You noticed her shoulders tense slightly. The question must have caught her off guard. Sevika knew something was going on between you and Silco, but she never asked for details.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I’m curious about who I’m working with. That’s all."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, as if trying to assess whether you were serious.

"You’re full of shit. What do you really want?"

You sighed heavily, sat back down, and looked down. Sevika was too sharp to be fooled.

"Since I’ve been here, everything’s been happening too fast. I just realized today that... I don’t know him beyond what he shows me. I know he works for Zaun, but I don’t know who he was before that. I want to understand. I want to understand him."

Sevika squinted, as if trying to find some hidden meaning in your words. Then she shook her head in disbelief.

"You’re crazy," she scoffed. "I thought you two were just sleeping together, but you really want something more... I knew you weren’t right in the head, but not this bad."

"And what’s so weird about that?" you asked, trying to hide your irritation.

"No one in their right mind would throw themselves into this voluntarily. If you want to know, ask him."

"I can’t," you admitted quietly. "Listen, if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but don’t mock me. I really care."

Sevika straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Not my business," she said firmly. "I don’t gossip about Silco. What you know should be enough."

"It’s not enough," you replied bitterly. "He doesn’t let anyone close, but sometimes I feel like I see something through the cracks in the mask he wears every day. I don’t know if it’s real or if I’m imagining it. I don’t even know why I care, but... I can’t stop thinking about it."

Sevika didn’t answer immediately. She studied you for a moment in silence and then sat on the bed beside you.

"You’re stubborn," she stated, and there was no mockery in her voice anymore.

"Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment," you joked weakly.

She sighed heavily.

"I don’t know everything," she began slowly. "What happened had already happened before I joined him. But what I do know is enough to understand why he is the way he is. Vander’s death didn’t affect him? Bullshit. Of course, it did."

You looked up, surprised by her tone. Sevika spoke calmly, but there was a hint of anger in her voice.

"Vander," she began, as if weighing each word. "He was someone. Not just for the people from the lower city, but for him too. They fought side by side, planned Zaun’s future together. Like brothers. But Vander changed his mind. Maybe he was scared, maybe he thought it was better to live in a cage than risk everything. And Silco... he couldn’t accept that."

"So... what happened?"

Sevika shook her head, as if wondering whether she should even answer.

"Vander betrayed him. Not openly, but with his actions. After what happened on the bridge, he let the enforcers rule Zaun. Instead of fighting, he started to negotiate. Silco couldn’t let that slide. When push came to shove... he killed him."

You were stunned.

"He did it himself?"

"Yes," Sevika replied coldly. "He kept his cool and did what had to be done. If he hadn’t, Zaun wouldn’t have stood a chance. Vander was in the way. Silco put the cause above his personal relationships. As always."

You tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

"That wasn’t the plan," Sevika added, noticing your silence. "But when it came to making the decision, he did it. That’s why people respect him. That’s why I respect him."

Sevika stood up, and you still felt the weight of her words.

"Fuck, I’ve said too much," she muttered, heading for the door. "You want to understand? Look at his actions, not what he says. That’s the only advice I can give you."

You were left alone, with thoughts that suddenly felt much heavier. You probably regretted asking the question. You found out... something, and now your head was full of thoughts, which in light of your mission seemed like a particularly stupid move even for you. Sevika told you to wait before crossing to the other side until the guards left their posts, but that didn’t mean you had to sit in four walls. You needed air, something that would blow away the unnecessary thoughts from your mind. Maybe you’d notice something useful?

You slung your bag over one shoulder and left before Sevika decided she hadn’t said everything and stopped you for longer. You were halfway down the stairs when you saw Sara. You didn’t see her on the floors that often. She looked a bit stressed, but lately, she had that expression a lot. Maybe she was picking up the mood from others? When she saw you, she clearly breathed a sigh of relief and came closer.

"Finally! I’ve been looking for you since morning."

"Did something happen?"

"I told them I wasn’t doing it, but they insisted," she sighed, somewhat disappointed. "I have to tell you that your friend woke up and asked about you."

You froze instantly. Lacey... another item on your to-do list.

"Oh, right... thanks," you replied slowly, and mechanically began to descend further.

"I don’t know who it was, but I already told you that I don’t want to know anything about what you do."

She joined you on the way down. She put her hands in her pockets and made a disgusted face, twisting her nose.

"It’s more personal than professional," you muttered, your thoughts far away.

Sara stopped at the top of the stairs, now more curious than irritated. She didn’t ask, and you had no intention of telling her who Lacey was. You knew you had to go to her and deliver the bad news, but no matter how much guilt gnawed at you from the inside, you couldn’t put her first. You had too much on your mind to give her a definite answer.

***

Sevika wasn't lying – it wasn't that you didn't trust her, but seeing it with your own eyes was a completely different experience. The day was drawing to a close, and you still had two hours until the change of guards. Just a few minutes before the guards would return to their posts. You could risk sneaking past, bribing them, or running away, but if they had your details, they could grab you without asking. Marcus had assured you that the guards would stop hunting you, but you would trust yourself to starve over the sheriff any day. Going back to Stillwater as a prisoner was the last thing you wanted, but falling into Finn’s hands seemed even worse.

People crowded in lines, eager to get back to their business as soon as possible. With each passing minute, they became more impatient. Well... why not? You counted about twenty people standing in a row, and a crowd of onlookers gathered around them. The guards were ripping off people's hats, making sure it wasn’t Lacey. Of course, because a hunched old man could be the sought-after 40-year-old woman. You rolled your eyes but quickly clenched your fists as you saw a guard push the old man to his knees. Was this supposed to be the "concern for public good"? Bullshit.

Standing against the wall wouldn’t magically get you to upper city.

That was the spark. You heard irritated whispers around you that were growing louder, turning into quiet grumbles of anger. The guards were getting impatient, and their increasing aggression was escalating the situation. People were responding more and more angrily. It only took one more push. You backed up into one of the alleys, where you found an empty bottle among the trash. You weighed it in your hand, briefly assessing your plan. You couldn’t wait for the guards to graciously let up. If Marcus was panicking over Lacey, they might have the guards block the passage for even a week. You needed chaos.

You pulled your scarf over your face and blended into the shadows of the buildings. The guard post was wedged into a recess near one of the tenements. It didn’t belong here – it looked too Piltover-ish. Its straight walls reminded you that even here, you weren’t free. The guards treated Zaun like a playground where they could vent their frustrations. Well, one more broken window wouldn’t surprise anyone.

You swung your arm and threw the bottle. It flew in an arc, shattering against the corner of the window. Glass scattered on the ground. Someone screamed. Panic broke out in the crowd – people started shoving each other. Some ran away, but most started shouting at the guards, provoking them even more. No one knew who started this little rebellion.

Seeing the crowd move toward the bridge, the guards abandoned their posts, trying to regain control of the situation. This was your chance. Using the confusion, you slipped into the shadows and made your way to the bridge.

The streetlights were bright, each one could betray you. You didn’t notice the puddle right next to one of the pillars – you slipped, bracing your hand against the stone pillar to steady yourself. You had to escape, get as far as you could before anyone noticed you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw flowers lying on the ground, right next to one of the pillars. Memories hit you suddenly and painfully. You grimaced, flinched. This wasn’t the time for mistakes.

Quickly, you disappeared into the mist that was slowly settling over the road. Memories still echoed in your mind. That peculiar unease – as if you were reliving the same scene again, noticing something you missed before. But not now. The task was the most important. You pulled your hood down deeper over your face and quickened your pace.

You planned to enter the tunnels as you always did – from the city side. When you were on the edge of visibility, you noticed that everything on this side was calm. A man walked ahead of you – the same one that the guard had treated brutally earlier. No one paid you any attention, convinced that the officers on the other side were keeping the order.

You suppressed a bitter smile and lowered your head. You had known for a while that the guards had no respect for the people of Zaun, but you wondered if it had always been this bad or if you were only just starting to notice more facts.

You blended into the crowd. You passed people hurrying to their comfortable homes, completely disconnected from what was happening right under their noses. Ignorance, after all, was a luxury.

You were concerned about the increased number of guards on the streets, but they could just as easily be securing themselves for the upcoming chancellor’s birthday celebrations. You felt bitterness, knowing that no one in the lower city was talking about it. Salo invited everyone to the celebration, but between the lines, it was clear that this invitation didn’t include the residents of Zaun. The guards would definitely not let anyone from the lower city in.

Using the same entrance all the time was becoming increasingly risky. You were quick and experienced in hiding, but sooner or later, someone would look down that alley faster than you thought. You were tempting fate more and more each time. This was supposed to be the last time. You knew that such moments triggered recklessness in people. The closer to the end of the task, the less care was put into the work. You had purposely caused chaos to buy more time and check every route thoroughly. They were counting on you, you didn’t need better motivation. Without waiting for the right moment, you slipped inside and quickly hid in the shadow of the stairs. The weight of responsibility only heightened the stress and fatigue. Your head was spinning from the overload of information. Moreover, you hadn’t rested like you should have after the tests. You probably hadn’t even eaten anything before leaving. It was foolish on your part, but some things couldn’t wait until you felt better.

You paused for a moment. Silco had given you a day. Pushing yourself wouldn’t help; someone would catch you, and you’d undo all your progress. A moment of rest wouldn’t hurt. You sat on the step and rested your head against the cool wall. The flowers wouldn’t let you rest. You had passed this way many times, but hadn’t paid attention to the memorials. After all these years, people still remembered what happened and left something to remind them and others of the tragedy that occurred that day. Memory was a powerful tool. As long as at least one person remembered what the guards were capable of, the anger against them would never subside. You didn’t want to forget either, but the rebellion didn’t concern you. You had no one to remember.

That rebellion, the fight... something happened then that split Silco and Vander. Something so strong that it kept resentment between them for many years. You knew that bringing it up with him was out of the question. It was something he would tell you of his own volition when he got rid of the burden of memories. If that was even possible after such a betrayal. You knew that Silco was very sensitive when it came to trust, no wonder he had completely cut himself off from Vander after something like that. Whatever that man did, whatever pushed him to make peace with the sheriff, it had torn him apart from Silco. Was the decision worth it?

Damned flowers...

You quickly stood up, feeling that if you allowed yourself one more minute of rest, you’d fall asleep standing. You adjusted your backpack and focused all your attention on marking the route. The first option was, of course, to enter from the beach side. Not very safe, and in case of a getaway, it would slow the whole team down. You hadn’t asked how many people would be in the team for the task, but you figured it would be at least ten. There were at least fifty barrels there. They could spill or set them on fire, but it was certain that one person couldn’t handle it. If a fight broke out, someone would have to defend the others.

Several minutes later, you stood by the stone slab, knowing there was no way they could use this entrance. You barely fit, let alone the muscle-bound brutes. You moved it slightly and began listening carefully. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

You were healthy, but what if the mutations disappear or shrink? No, that’s not possible. It was a cellular-level change, something that couldn’t just be reversed. Your body might return to its previous state someday, and you might stop seeing better in the dark. No one could say why the shimmer had such an effect on you. You suspected that even the doctors might have trouble with that. As long as you could, you needed to use these skills for your cause. However, another visit to Rey awaited you...

You didn’t hear any sounds from below. You forced out the fear of the mutations fading and jumped down to the next floor. Almost mechanically, you opened the door for yourself, leaving it open this time in case you needed to escape quickly. You told yourself to think. To the left was Zarys' old lab; you didn’t want to go back there yet, but to the right, the hallway ended with a steep drop. If you went down there, you wouldn’t get out of the sewers the same way. The shimmer mutated you, but unfortunately, it didn’t give you the ability to fly or walk on walls. One deep breath later, you turned left. You didn’t like how exposed you were. The lamps shone constantly, casting a cold, somewhat dim light on the walls. You had nowhere to hide if someone came from the opposite direction. You meticulously noted every branch and checked them immediately, knowing that the further you went, the more dangerous it would become. You hadn’t ventured this far before. Lately, you had been moving very instinctively.

You found the first exit after an hour of searching. A spiral staircase led to the top. Through a grate in the ceiling, you could see the sky. You climbed slowly, trying to step as quietly as possible. The hatch was closed, but the lock shouldn’t be a problem. You hoped at least one person in the team would know how to pick locks. Despite your involvement, you preferred not to be here when things turned hostile. With your luck, something would probably go wrong.

Once at the top, you saw houses through the gaps; nothing special, but your attention was drawn to a statue. It depicted a man holding a book in his hand. You couldn’t read who it was from where you were, but with a map later, you’d be able to find this entrance quickly. Flowers grew around it... Why did that suddenly come to mind? You shook your head, irritated by your own distraction. Going to the surface would be risky; you didn’t know what awaited you up there. You quickly jotted down the pros and cons of this exit and went back down.

This wasn’t the end.

You felt a little more confident in your role. You needed a little adrenaline rush to get back on track. You felt like you were doing something useful. You peeked around the corner and observed your surroundings for a moment. You thought you heard voices, but you weren’t sure. You moved cautiously forward. You stopped for a moment, remembering which direction you had been heading. If your memory wasn’t failing you and you had remembered the path correctly, you were heading north toward the university. The tunnels stretched beneath the entire city. This web of connections was both fascinating and dangerous. It was so easy to get lost in them.

But your hearing didn’t fail you.

You stood at a junction of two corridors, wondering which branch to check first, when you heard a soft hum of conversation. A slight excitement gave you strength, but you had to be careful not to provoke recklessness. You could hear better, but you didn’t know who was having the conversation. Confidence was one thing, safety – something else.

You directed your steps toward the sounds, hoping to overhear something useful.

“Give it to me before I smack you!”

You stopped, clearly hearing the words. That was the limit – you shouldn’t approach any closer.

“Get lost, you gave me that cigarette, so don’t try to grab me. Focus on guarding the entrance.”

The voices fell silent, and you felt a strong sense of disappointment. You didn’t spend hours in the tunnels just to overhear a cigarette argument. You nervously shifted your weight from one leg to the other, knowing you should continue searching, but you deliberately hesitated, hoping they’d say something else. You sighed and took a step back just as they started talking again.

“How long is she going to be there?” The man was clearly irritated.

“Hell if I know. The boss called her up suddenly, probably something urgent.”

“You think they… you know?”

“Fuck no, I don’t even want to imagine it.”

One of them chuckled grotesquely, and then you heard the sound of a lighter being flicked. You really shouldn’t be listening to this.

“Hey, just tell me what exactly they’re after.”

“Who? The boss?”

“You haven’t been here recently, we keep getting new orders. Move this, don’t move that... how long is this going to go on!” he groaned loudly. “Tell me you know more about this.”

You leaned in a little more. Marcus apparently hadn’t shared his plans with them, and their frustration had led to this conversation. God, you loved gossipers.

“Well, this whole thing stinks. Do you even know what’s in those barrels?”

“No, when Hugo grabbed one, the guy pointed a gun at him, told him not to come near the goods. How the hell are we supposed to move this stuff?”

“I overheard a conversation between the boss and the chemist. It’s fucking shimmer, but apparently some other kind. Highly addictive.”

Shimmer...

You knew Marcus produced this stuff, but… it couldn’t be that version, right? It’s not the half-finished product you used… or was it? Your head spun. Fifty barrels filled to the brim with a substance that was addictive and deadly within days. And Marcus wanted to move it closer to the main pipeline and... blow it up.

God, please don’t let this be what you think it is.

“You’re kidding me? I don’t want to touch that shit! Let them carry it themselves. If he wants to make it explode, let him do it.”

“I don’t like it either, but the money’s good. Wonder where the sheriff got the cash for this.”

Impatience was tearing at your head. You could feel all your tense muscles itching to break into a run, grab one of them, and force them to talk about something useful instead of gossiping about what you already knew. You were wasting time listening to information you already had. But even if there was a small chance they’d say something else, you wanted to hold onto it. You justified your behavior by telling yourself that if they left, you’d have another entry to add to the report.

You tried to push thoughts of Sevika, Silco, Vander – everything unrelated to what you were doing – out of your head. But it wasn’t that easy. The voices in your head seemed to grow louder. “Why did he do it? How could he? Was that the only way?” You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the hum of conversation coming from the end of the hallway. But the more you tried to quiet your mind, the louder Sevika’s words echoed in your head: “Don’t look at his words, look at his actions.” Actions that had brought him here. Actions that once seemed cold and heartless, but now... you weren’t so sure anymore.

"Focus, damn it," you whispered to yourself as you slowly moved toward the voices, making sure you didn't miss anything. You had no right to be distracted. Not here. Not now.

You heard a faint creak, identical to the sound made by the door you entered the tunnels through nearly two hours ago. You strained your ears, waiting for answers.

"Alright, gentlemen, it's decided," a woman spoke. You didn't recognize her voice. "We're postponing the transport deadline."

You felt a chill.

"Hold on, hold on, not so fast, ma'am. This is going to cost extra. Our people are in the lower city. It'll take us a while to gather them. We deserve some compensation for this rush, right?"

"That's a question for the boss. I'm just passing along orders. You'll set off with the shipment tomorrow before noon. A boat's been arranged for you; the previous route isn't safe anymore."

"Shit, I hate swimming..." one of them groaned.

"Then quit and stop bothering me," she snarled. "You'll leave the barrels inside. Two of you will keep guard on the goods non-stop until the event."

"What's the point of moving them now if you still want to blow it all up in two days?"

"I don't pay you to ask questions," she growled again, clearly exhausted.

"Exactly, your boss pays us. So if you want the job done right, you'll tell us everything we need to know, or you can carry those barrels on your own. I don't care."

A silence fell. The woman must have been considering her conversation partner's words, searching for a bluff, but if they were from Zaun, like you suspected, they were telling the truth. You recognized that tone.

"Fine. What do you need to know?"

"Why the change in plans? We need to tell the rest of the team something."

"After Zarys' death, his workshop was searched. Some of his notes and journals are missing. We suspect Zarys was working with Silco from the start. If he knows about our plans, we need to move the goods to a safer location."

A few seconds later, one of them scoffed derisively.

"Seriously? That idiot was making deals with Silco? Lady, trust me. If Silco knew, he would have killed Zarys himself. Do you think he would have waited until you finished gathering supplies to set him up? You're attacking him, but you have no idea who you're fighting."

You suppressed a snicker. That was true. Silco could be calm and think several steps ahead, but he was also impulsive and brutal—when the situation demanded it. You noticed that in his stance when you realized Marcus was behind everything. He wasn't angry; it was cold fury and calculated restraint, knowing how to stop Marcus. He didn't see Marcus as a worthy opponent, more like a spoiled child who wanted more, even though he'd already been smacked. Only the mutual connections kept him from going after Marcus directly. Before dealing with him, he had to take everything Marcus used to attack him. He needed to strip Marcus of any evidence of Silco's possible guilt.

"Not for me to decide. Is that all, or can I get back to matters that don't concern you?"

"Don't get so high and mighty. I got it. Tomorrow before noon. Boat. Guarding the goods," he added lightly. "Remember, we know who you are. If even a single coin is missing, we'll find you."

Good old threats. You pressed yourself against one of the walls as you heard footsteps approaching. There was nowhere to run. You could only step back a little and try to blend into the wall, hoping she wouldn’t think to look around. You were in serious danger right now. Your heart was pounding wildly. The sound of heels clicking on the stone floor grew louder. She was alone—good. If necessary, you should be able to incapacitate her.

You waited, breathless. Then, she appeared. She kept her head down, her gaze fixed on the documents she was carrying. You were tempted to sneak up behind her and knock her unconscious the way Sevika had shown you, but no one should know you were here. However, those documents might contain valuable information.

No, you had to resist acting impulsively. You hadn't gotten anywhere good with impulsive actions before. You were supposed to check the routes and patrols, that was all. It was hard to break old habits, but you trusted Silco—he wouldn't give you this task without a reason. Although, in light of what you just learned, the task seemed less meaningful. You wanted to report back to him as soon as possible, but both exits were blocked. This couldn’t wait. But stumbling around aimlessly also didn’t make sense. You didn’t know if you'd find another exit or if you'd run into more people.

It was a shame you didn't know more about the thugs Marcus had hired. You suspected their only value was money, and they’d work for whoever offered more. But just a name wouldn’t be enough to find them and bribe them. You didn’t even know what they looked like. You wished it was that simple.

The safest option seemed to be to retrace your steps. You knew the route and had found an exit no one used. If you could make it there in one piece. Worst case, you'd have to escape to a narrow beach and maybe climb the wall.

They were moving the goods...

"Damn it," you muttered softly.

You didn’t have time to analyze her words. Silco had to know before the day started. His people were on standby, and it didn’t make sense to wait for the goods in the tunnels if they were going to be taken away in a few hours. You had to attack the Magistral directly.

You turned and walked down the same path you had come from. You trusted that the loud clicking of her heels would drown out your steps. Even at night, you knew how to get to Zaun using the exit you knew. You didn’t have time to sneak around Piltover. Not when you carried information that could change the whole game.

Chapter Text

Why now?

Those flowers grew everywhere. They were one of those resilient species that could sprout even between stones if given the slightest bit of space. She always brought them home when she returned from the city. That day, you waited at the table until late into the night. When you woke up in the morning, stiff from sleeping in the chair and chilled to the bone, you noticed the flowers were no longer in the vase. She was gone too.

You didn’t know why she suddenly came to mind.

You’d managed to slip back into Zaun unnoticed. You knew you had to report to Silco urgently and inform him of the transport date change. That was your task, your duty. But your legs refused to cooperate. "Just a moment longer," you kept telling yourself. You wanted to chase the thought down before it slipped away, drowned out by the next wave of urgent matters.

You couldn’t even remember the name of those flowers. You stopped at the edge of the bridge and glanced sideways, as if to confirm you weren’t imagining things. But there they were—slightly wilted and damp. The blue petals had already begun to fall. You crouched beside them and tentatively picked one up from the ground. You wondered who had left them there. And for whom. They were so delicate you could barely feel their texture between your fingers. Too bad you couldn’t remember their scent.

You lifted your gaze to the lanterns. The candles burned steadfastly despite the dreary sky and clammy air. The sight moved you, but not in the way you expected. Instead of nostalgia, you felt a rising irritation. You weren’t even sure who you were angry at. So many years had passed, and yet people still remembered. Someone must have been here, lighting a candle or leaving a note. So much blood, pain, and planning—for what? That rebellion had brought nothing but death and the loss of loved ones.

It was easy to blame one man. Vander or Silco. You were starting to see the divide—two sides of the same coin. Both had wanted the same thing, but their methods differed. Vander understood that aggression begets aggression, that people, once subdued, wouldn’t be eager to sacrifice themselves. The enforcers, backed by the council, had the upper hand. Silco? He wanted results immediately, to demonstrate strength and deter Piltover.

But dwelling on the past wouldn’t change anything. Now it was far easier to look ahead, unburdened by the constant specter of a torturous death. Before, you hadn’t even thought about his plans. All that had consumed your mind was vengeance against Zarys and ridding yourself of shimmer. Now all of that had suddenly become your problem.

It felt like waking up. Like breaking free from a nightmare of violet liquid and seeing reality. You didn’t blame yourself—you’d done what you had to in order to survive. You’d been given a second chance. You couldn’t waste it.

And yet you still couldn’t move.

Frowning, you stared at the blue petals. Why did they draw you in like this? It was as if they wanted to remind you of something. You thought of the rebellion, but that wasn’t it.

Was it about him? About the time he’d said everyone who got close to him ended up dead? Sevika had warned you, but you hadn’t paid attention then. You knew Silco had blood on his hands, but that was the first time you’d heard about someone he’d killed personally. It must have shaken him. Probably because they had once been close.

Sometimes you regretted not knowing Vander. People always exaggerate the virtues of the dead in their stories. You’d only ever heard good things about him. He was respected, and people held back from acting unless he gave the order. Silco? The rumors about him were always the same—dangerous, ruthless, merciless. And they were right.

But Vander’s actions had their cost too. Instead of rallying people who would follow him into the fire, he chose his children. Admirable... probably. You’d heard it was his children who caused the explosion in Piltover, enraging the council. His decision might have drawn the enforcers down upon you and other innocents. And the enforcers didn’t hesitate to throw children behind bars.

Thinking about those choices, you began to shape your own stance. It was easy to detach from sentimentality since you hadn’t known Vander. The enforcers, though? You knew them all too well. Their brutality, their impunity. You knew what they did to people when they had a bad day.

After everything you’d been through, you should have valued your own life above all else. But you’d faced death too many times to fear it anymore. You risked yourself to gather information that could save others.

Then or now—knowing more about Vander and Silco—you’d still have chosen Silco.

The thought stunned you. But you felt at peace. It was your decision, not one born of emotions but of clear calculation. You knew Silco had blood on his hands, but that was the price to pay to free Zaun from the enforcers and Marcus. You didn’t care for a long life. You only wanted to be able to look in the mirror and know you hadn’t been afraid to act. Besides, you weren’t innocent yourself. Maybe you didn’t have as much blood on your hands as he did, but your actions weren’t beyond reproach either. You’d long ago decided not to judge others if you weren’t spotless yourself.

But that still wasn’t it.

You snorted angrily and walked away from the spot. You didn’t have time to dwell on things that didn’t concern you then or now. So why were you feeling this strange anger? You’d chosen Silco... Once, that thought would have made you question your sanity. But now? You were starting to believe in this Nation of Zaun business. If your mother could see you now...

“Damn it,” you growled, raising a hand to your face.

It wasn’t raining, yet your cheek was wet. What nonsense. She had left you. She didn’t deserve your tears. You remembered the blue flowers on the table. They had smelled sweet too—it was the first scent that greeted you when you came home. When she was gone, all that remained was dust and the irritating stench of alcohol.

It was her fault. If she hadn’t abandoned you, you wouldn’t have ended up on the streets. What you went through was brutal, cruel for a child your age. You’d never wondered what kind of person you might have been if life had turned out differently. Such musings weren’t your favorite pastime. You liked yourself—with your baggage, with everything you carried on your shoulders. You were proud you hadn’t broken under its weight.

You didn’t miss her. You’d let go of that feeling long ago. But you knew it wasn’t about her as a person, but the idea of a mother itself. Oh well, it wasn’t the first or last time you’d go without. No point dwelling on it.

You shook off the intrusive thoughts. This really wasn’t the time for them. You couldn’t think about yourself when hundreds of people were in danger!

When you emerged from the tunnels, it was past midnight. Every time you went to him with information, you could never be certain if you’d find him in his office. It made working like this difficult, but asking where to find him felt inappropriate. If even Sevika sometimes struggled to locate him, it was clear he didn’t want to be sought out. Irresponsible, you thought, wrinkling your nose.

The Last Drop loomed before you like a calm beacon. You knew Silco would want to hear the information from you, but you weren’t sure you were ready to talk to him now. You were weighed down by a wave of sudden memories, and he had an uncanny ability to sense when your thoughts were occupied by something other than work. It helped you sometimes, but it was also unsettling. One more conversation, one more exchange of information, and you could rest.

The problem was that Sevika’s words still lingered in your mind. You wondered if she’d told him you’d been asking about him. Would he be angry that you wanted to know his past?

You entered the Last Drop with a pensive expression etched on your face, paying little attention to your surroundings. The moment you crossed the threshold, you felt something was off. The place was nearly empty—a rare sight for this hour. A few tables were occupied by strangers whose faces you didn’t recognize. You could feel their gazes on you, though their expressions revealed no particular emotion. To them, you were just another customer.

On one hand, you sometimes missed that anonymity. On the other hand, its coldness today sent a slight chill down your spine.

You walked between the tables, heading toward the stairs leading to the upper floor, when a familiar voice broke your train of thought:

“He’s not up there.”

Relief washed over you as you turned to see Sevika, leaning against the frame of one of the side passages.

“But you’re here,” you said, glancing behind her at a few curious onlookers who had their eyes fixed on you. Lowering your voice, you added, “It’s urgent.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her gaze turning sharp.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again.”

“What? Of course not,” you retorted reflexively, though the thought of a small incident near the checkpoint flickered briefly in your mind. Still, you tried to look convincing.

“So, what’s so urgent you have to tell me?” she asked, starting to walk toward the stairs.

Taking that as encouragement, you followed her, skipping two steps at a time to catch up.

“I’ve prepared a report, but... I’m afraid it doesn’t change anything.”

Sevika stopped abruptly and turned to you.

“What do you mean by that?” Her tone grew cautious.

“They’ve changed the transport date. At the last minute,” you tried to speak calmly, but your words came out in a rush.

Sevika narrowed her eyes, then grabbed your arm, forcing you to look her in the eye. For a moment, she scrutinized your posture—checking if you were hiding something or being overly dramatic. Finally, she cursed under her breath.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of her gaze.

“I don’t like it either. And if it’s what I think it is, we’re seriously screwed.”

Sevika let out a heavy sigh and continued up the stairs, you trailing close behind until you both reached the upper floor. The corridor leading to Silco’s office seemed darker than usual. Sevika walked briskly, nearly ignoring you, until she stopped in front of a door that appeared closed.

“Wait here,” she ordered.

“But…” you began, only for Sevika to cut you off with an upraised hand.

“No arguments. Stay here until we return. Don’t let anyone in, got it?”

You nodded, surprised and slightly unsettled by the sharpness of her tone. She opened the door to Silco’s office and gestured for you to enter.

“And don’t try anything.”

It felt like she wanted to add something else, but she only shot you one last warning look before vanishing into the dim corridor, leaving you alone in the office.

You stepped inside hesitantly, glancing around. The office felt lifeless, as though stripped of any vitality—only the faint glow of a desk lamp cast pale reflections on the dark wood and piles of paperwork. You heard the door shut softly behind you, cutting off the distant murmur of voices. A knot tightened in your stomach from the nerves.

Finding Silco was beginning to feel like a fool’s errand. The man had a habit of vanishing and reappearing at the most unexpected times. It was unsettling, but if anyone could locate him, it was Sevika. You didn’t know how long it would take her, but you felt calmer knowing she was already informed about the transport.

Exhaustion pulled at you, and the couch looked unusually inviting. You wanted to rest, but the stress drove you to pace the room, waiting to hear footsteps. Your thoughts revolved around the potential explosion. You often leaned toward pessimism, and this theory was especially grim. You needed someone rational to tell you that even a desperate man like Marcus wouldn’t dare to go that far. Yet the pieces seemed to fit together far too well.

Eventually, you sat down and buried your face in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. You thought you were dealing with someone whose ego had grown too large, someone regretting their actions and seeking ways to avoid consequences. But this? This was sick.

You had spent weeks trying to uncover who was behind the production of the drug. Simply discovering that Marcus was involved—and that he planned to use shimmer to blow up the main hub—had taken far too long. But what haunted you was how absurd the idea seemed. It bordered on insanity to use a drug as an explosive material. If Marcus wanted to frame Silco, there were far better, cleaner, and cheaper methods. Why bother with the hassle of creating a new variant?

Today, when they mentioned the explosion, you started viewing the plan differently. No one had ever confirmed that shimmer was meant to serve as the detonator. You’d clung to that assumption without evidence. What nagged at you was the choice of the water hub as the target. There were better locations to bomb—however twisted that thought might be—places whose destruction would cause greater panic and chaos. Shimmer wasn’t even necessary for that.

And yet, this variant had been created. A variant tested on prisoners. Why? Marcus clearly wanted to see how it affected people. You doubted it was some refined method of torture. This might mean the target wasn’t the water hub or the building itself but… people?

At some point, you must have dozed off. The sound of the door opening pulled you out of a restless half-sleep. You leapt to your feet, not entirely awake.

“I wasn’t sleeping!” you blurted instinctively, startled by the sudden need to explain yourself.

Silco glanced at you sideways, raising an eyebrow slightly but refraining from any comment. Sevika, entering right behind him, looked noticeably more sullen. Without a word, she crossed the room and dropped heavily into one of the chairs.

“From the beginning,” Silco’s voice was sharp, the undertone of authority forced you to pull yourself together instantly.

Carefully, you sat down, aware that this would be a long conversation, followed by an even longer process of crafting a new plan. Rest loomed somewhere on the horizon, but for now, you had to focus on the task at hand.

“I overheard a conversation while scouting for entrances. They’ve changed the transport date. It’s been moved to tomorrow. They plan to move the barrels by boat to the other side of the city.”

“Do you know why?” he asked, his voice calm.

You nodded but hesitated before answering. You shifted your gaze to him, trying to gauge how he might react to what you were about to say.

“Marcus didn’t find Zarys’s notes in the lab—the ones he passed to me. He took that as proof that Zarys was working with you.”

Sevika scoffed quietly, clearly amused by the absurdity of the thought, but Silco showed no emotion. In silence, he reached for a cigar, lit it, and sat still for a moment, blowing out the smoke.

"Do you know the exact time?" he asked finally.

"I only know it will be before noon. There will be at least six people there. Two will stay behind to guard the goods until the operation begins."
Silco walked over to the desk, where a map was lying on top, and moved a few things aside to reveal the full layout.

"Even if they limit the number of boats and use the eastern beach, moving so many barrels through the city will take them half the day," he said, more to himself than to you, as if analyzing every possible scenario. After a moment, he raised his head. "We can't take the risk. A direct attack on the transport is out."

He looked at Sevika.

"Gather the people. They need to be ready at dawn."

Sevika immediately stood up, ready to follow orders, but before she could take a step, you spoke, almost instinctively:

"Wait."

She stopped, turning toward you with clear irritation.

"I have a theory. I could be wrong, but... I think I know what Marcus might be planning."

"Go on," Silco raised his eyes from the map, signaling for you to continue.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in your head.

"Today, one of the men who was talking about the move said something strange. They don’t even know exactly what’s in the barrels. They only know it's a highly addictive drug. They're even afraid to touch it, so they don’t risk exposure to shimmer. It could be a half-product. The one I took."

Sevika snorted, leaning back in her chair.

"We know that," her voice was harsh, as if she wanted to cut the conversation short. "It also burns and is easier to produce."

You shook your head.

"No. It’s not that. Marcus tested versions developed by Zarys on prisoners. If he just wanted to burn it, he could have used the finished shimmer."

You paused for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I didn’t understand why he needed new variants. And now... there was that explosion at the main junction..."

"Are you going to say it or not?" Sevika snapped.

You clenched your fists and stood up to look her in the face.

"It doesn’t make sense to blow something up using a drug. What if they don’t want to take it out of the city? What if they want to distribute it throughout the city? Marcus didn’t test this on prisoners for no reason. What if his target is the citizens?"

Silco slowly straightened, his eyes narrowing as if he analyzed your words in a fraction of a second. For a moment, it seemed you saw a flicker of panic in his gaze, but it was quickly replaced by something else—cold focus.

"How exactly would Marcus do that if he wants to blow it up?" Sevika looked at both of you with irritation, as if you were hiding facts from her.

Silco nodded, allowing you to continue.

"Our theory is that they want to use it as an explosive material. This junction brings water to the entire city. Think about it—an explosion on the Chancellor’s birthday is the perfect moment for an attack. I’m starting to think that he doesn’t just want to blow up the pipeline, but use the moment to poison the water. Instead of several attacks, one in a specific place."

As you said it out loud, you began to see the sense in it.

"Marcus operates discreetly, works with Finn, and hires people from Zaun. Even if he leaves behind traces, they’ll lead to the lower city," Silco observed. "Quite clever."

"Clever?" you were outraged. "It’s the perfect way to frame someone from Zaun. No one will believe that the Piltover sheriff could have done something like this. The whole blame will fall on you! Who else is responsible for shimmer?"

Silence rang in your ears. When you said those words out loud, you realized their weight. These were drastic measures—all to free yourself from Silco and, in the process, put him behind bars. You knew that for such an attack, he wouldn’t be getting out of there alive.

"No, Marcus isn’t brave enough to try something like that," Sevika interrupted.

"Marcus was manipulable, but power has given him too much confidence," Silco replied slowly, weighing his words. "He knows I have evidence that could destroy him. If he wants to get rid of me, he needs something strong, concrete evidence of my involvement in the attack. I expected more from him."

You rolled your eyes, feeling your body begin to tremble from nerves. You didn’t understand why Silco was looking at this so calmly. You began pacing the office, hoping it would help ease the stress from the overload of thoughts.

"Alright, let’s say this is his plan," Sevika broke the silence, her voice dripping with skepticism. "Why bother with an explosion? Wouldn’t it be better to do it quietly?"

That was a very good question. You turned to her, but didn’t have an answer. Indeed, why an explosion? Everyone would know when the accident happened. Doing it quietly wouldn’t risk discovery.

"Marcus needs a spectacle. Something that will shock the Council and terrify the citizens. A show that will not go unnoticed," Silco's voice was quiet, almost melodic, as if he were analyzing the situation from a detached perspective, as if it didn’t concern him. A shadow of a bitter smile appeared on his lips. "He’ll be able to rush in like a hero to save the day."

His tone almost annoyed you. He sounded as if he admired Marcus for this crazy plan. But now was not the time to point out that Marcus wanted to destroy him, so he shouldn’t be admiring the complexity of his plan.

"The transport is handled by hired people," you observed after a moment of silence. "Even if they’re caught, no one will believe they were working for the sheriff. Marcus will take over the investigation and present the public with whatever he wants."

"Exactly," Silco agreed with you and turned his attention to Sevika. "When this is handled, check if those were Finn’s people."

Sevika nodded. It made sense. By using people from the Crime Lord, Marcus created himself a safe exit in case he couldn’t pin the blame on Silco. You doubted Finn was clever enough to notice the trickery in the sheriff’s behavior. He didn’t seem that way after your last meeting. You suspected he just needed the vision of getting Silco out of the picture.

"In my worst nightmares, I never suspected Marcus had the guts to dare something like this," Sevika spat through clenched teeth. "We should have gotten rid of him before he came to power. Marcus, the hero—good jokes."

You shook your head, disgusted and terrified.

"So many people could die," you said quietly. "I know better than anyone else the pain that half-product causes. I wouldn’t lift a finger if it were just Piltover, but this also threatens our people."

You bit the skin by your thumb, recalling how painful it was to prick behind your eyes. The muscle pain when you can't move, and you only dream of someone pouring more of that vile stuff into your throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Silco looked at you more intently, but you didn’t know what it could be about. Sevika also glanced at you with a strange expression on her face. You stopped in your tracks, focusing on them, but that feeling disappeared. You searched your words for something that might have triggered that reaction, but your mind went blank.

"Is something wrong?"

Sevika shrugged and pulled out a cigarette.

"It took you a while," she muttered indistinctly, the object in her mouth. "About time."

You blushed when you realized what she meant. A few days ago, she had pointed out, quite friendly, that you belonged to them. It was a comfortable thought, but you didn’t feel it strongly. You were glad that there was a place you could belong to, but only today did you begin to see the problems in Zaun differently. You froze a little when your thoughts began to take a dangerous turn. A certain thought was forming in you, but it was too frightening to even let it come close.

"Bit me," you retorted weakly, not wanting to show how her words hit the mark. You felt strangely about the idea that you were starting to lean toward ambitious plans of independence for the city.

"Back to our problem," Silco interrupted, ignoring your banter. "This is the main reason to stop him. Piltover will do everything for their own to save them. If this strain reaches us, it will be the beginning of Zaun's downfall."

Why did it seem like it was getting darker with every passing second? In your mind’s eye, you saw hundreds of people frantically searching for their next dose to ease the pain. Piltover has doctors, scientists, and an entire academy ready to tackle the problem. When the first cases start, doctors will be scrambling to find an answer to their deteriorating condition. But you? No one would help you. You’d be left alone with this. Silco, as usual, was right. This would be the city's downfall.

You remembered the man in the alley. If you don’t stop Marcus, there will be more of them, and in much worse condition. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Not everyone in Zaun was a good person, but you wouldn’t wish such pain on anyone. Well, almost no one...

You managed to escape this by sheer chance. To think, the man who created the mixture was the one who helped you. You knew Zarys would return to you even after his death. But one good deed wouldn’t redeem his sins. He gave you a safe dose because he was tormented by guilt and looking for someone who could stop Marcus.

That thought made you forget about breathing. Your heart pounded wildly. Right, there was still Zarys. The Zarys whose wife was in the hospital, just like his son. The son for whom he was developing the drug. You had to place your hands on your thighs and lean forward to keep from falling.

"And you? Gonna puke?" Sevika shot, as blunt as ever.

You wanted to flip her off.

"We forgot something," you whispered, hoping you were wrong.

"What do you mean?" Silco asked, sensing you had come up with an idea.

"Marcus had Zarys at hand. We forgot about him because he’s dead," your words hung in the air. He looked at you with interest, giving you space to continue. You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts.

"Remember what I said about Zarys’ experiments on prisoners?" you started slowly, weighing each word. "Zarys said Marcus was testing new strains on them. He probably didn’t do it because he has some weird kink. Zarys didn’t know what it was about. He got involved with modifying shimmer because he was looking for a cure for his son, you know?"

"Not at all," Sevika responded with a bored tone.

"Was there anything about this in his notes?" Silco asked seriously, knowing where you were heading.

You reached back into your memory of his journals, but you couldn’t remember anything specific about the cure. Zarys was satisfied with the development of the drug, but that was probably it.

"No. Just what he told me and what I found in Marcus’s office. Silco, does he..."

"Want to poison the city and then save it? I’m afraid so."

"Can you speak more clearly?" Sevika groaned, shifting her gaze between the two of you, clearly annoyed that she had missed something.

Silco gave a slight nod, signaling for you to take over the explanation. You suspected that he preferred to focus on planning tomorrow's attack than on explaining facts he had figured out a moment earlier. But Sevika needed the answer, and you had to finish your thought.

"Shimmer only becomes drastic when someone starts taking too much too quickly," you said quickly, walking around the room trying to keep up with the rush of thoughts. "The half-product works instantly because of the impurities. Even a small amount can have an effect. Zarys gave me the drug. Or a different mixture, I don’t know... I took something that was one of the final versions. When I took that dose... it stopped the breakdown of cells. It worked."

"Alright, and...?"

Sevika looked at you with growing irritation. You continued, ignoring her:

"If Marcus not only has this half-product, but also the antidote, the future of the city will depend entirely on him."

"And he’ll give it only to those who can give him something," she whispered in disbelief, perfectly summarizing your statement.

The silence that followed was heavy and filled to the brim with risk. Of course, you could be wrong. This whole conversation of yours was full of theories that you couldn’t confirm yet. You had to sit down from the shock. The thought made you feel nauseous.

"Marcus is blinded by his vision of revenge. He probably doesn’t realize how dangerous and risky what he’s doing is, and that makes him even more dangerous."

You lifted your head, hearing his words. Great that he was aware of it, but wasn’t that a good enough reason to feel anger? His calmness was necessary to steer the conversation in the right direction, but you thought he was too calm.

"A city paralyzed by poisoned water, and he comes with the solution. He’ll have everyone in his grasp," Sevika thought aloud.

"This is cruel," you said with disgust. "What a monster."

"Monster or not, he’s thought this through well," Silco interrupted your angry musings. "As sheriff, he’ll be obliged to handle the matter personally. The Council will give him everything he demands to end the catastrophe."

"This guy has nerve. After everything we’ve done for him," Sevika growled.

"More likely because of what we’ve done to him. Marcus was always skeptical about cooperating with us. He found a way to free himself from us and gain favor with the residents. Who can resist the role of a hero?"

You scoffed, irritated. He said it as if he didn’t care that the sheriff of Piltover was ready to sacrifice a lot of people just to get to him and find a reason to lock him away in the depths of Stillwater. Almost as if... it wasn’t the first time? You began to wonder if his calmness came from experience. You had no doubt that many people would gladly get rid of him and take the power for themselves. Marcus could have been next in line and probably, unlike the others, had different reasons than jealousy. You saw in your mind’s eye how the sheriff puffed himself up when everyone thanked him for saving the city. You sighed heavily, feeling the vast gap between the grudge Marcus had against Silco and the scale of the plot he was planning.

"Not just a hero. A savior," you added, feeling the fatigue slowly taking over. "Who would believe he could be responsible for anything bad then?"

Silco leaned slightly back in his chair, his gaze cold, as if he were analyzing your words with surgical precision.

"And no evidence that could incriminate him will matter," he finished for you, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "He’ll get exactly what he wants: a reason to arrest me."

He curled his lips into a contemptuous smile. You didn't see anger in him, only focused determination on the solution. Perhaps a slight admiration that someone had come up with such a crazy plan driven by revenge against him. Did Silco see it as a challenge? No, it was more likely fatigue from having to deal with an irritating opponent. You stared at him, trying to understand his calm demeanor. He was still sitting at the table, calmly finishing his cigar, as if everything was under control. Even Sevika seemed surprised by his reaction, but it was you who dared to break the silence.

"How can you be so calm? I know this theory borders on paranoia, and we’re turning Marcus into a criminal mastermind, but even if you doubt his intelligence, there are plenty of reasons to be concerned, right?"

"Someone has to, since you're getting worked up for the both of us," his response was cold, almost mocking, but the gaze he fixed on you left no room for argument. "The situation is urgent. There's no time for unnecessary emotions. You won’t achieve anything by thinking about his motives."

His words stung a bit, but you knew they were connected to earlier comments about your impulsiveness. You clenched your lips, trying to stay calm, but you still couldn't comprehend his stoic approach.

"I never thought I’d say this, but the bastard really thought this through," Sevika suddenly spoke up, breaking the tension. She slowly stood up, stretching slightly. "I’ll gather the people. We’ll go according to the plan."

You spread your arms, looking at both of them in disbelief.

"Seriously? This doesn't bother you?"

Sevika gave you a pointed look.

"Calm down," her voice was calm but firm. "I know this is critical, but you're overreacting. You won’t do anything by panicking. We can only prevent this before it blows up."

She stepped closer and patted you on the shoulder, as if to calm you down, but the effect was the opposite. Her indifference shocked you even more. Before you could say anything, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

You stood for a moment in silence, trying to understand how it was possible that your theory was met with such indifference. After all, it was quite plausible – Marcus was planning to frame Silco for poisoning the city’s water, which would give him the perfect pretext to arrest him. And they? They just shrugged.

You wanted to say something, but when you looked at Silco, you noticed he was watching you intently. His gaze was piercing, but it hid something more. Flustered, you looked away, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

"I don’t understand how you can approach this so coldly," your voice slightly cracked.

You sat back down in your chair. It was true that you had never dealt with such a serious issue before, but they acted like it wasn’t the first time someone tried to frame him. Another arrogant opponent who thought they could outsmart him. In that case, their calm demeanor seemed justified. Still, you were shocked at how quickly they processed the facts and moved on to action.

"Sevika's right. Anger won’t help," he responded calmly, his eyes slightly vacant as he stared at the door Sevika had just walked through.

You rubbed your tired eyes, which were burning from lack of sleep. Your whole body demanded rest, but you stubbornly ignored that need. You couldn’t afford it—not now.

"I find it hard to believe that this man is willing to risk so many lives just to imprison... a regular guy."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Silco raise an eyebrow.

"Should I be concerned that you called me a 'regular guy'?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Before you could respond, you realized how it had sounded.

"You're nitpicking. You know what I meant."

"Marcus was pliable, good for manipulation, but he became greedy once he got a taste of power. No doubt he needs to be removed. His plan is well thought out, as if he’s not working alone. Although I doubt anyone else is behind this. Still, I must admit, it’s impressive how much he’s willing to sacrifice to achieve his goal."

"Isn't that mistaking ambition for obsession?"

"Marcus can be obsessed with me as much as he wants," he replied defiantly. "But he’s not as good a player as he thinks."

He suddenly fell silent. His gaze seemed distant, as if he were analyzing something you didn’t have access to. Finally, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his hand. Something stirred inside you when you saw him like that. It was... unusual. The fact that he allowed you to see how fatigue was starting to get the better of him stirred up feelings inside you that were hard to describe.

It made you go back to your earlier thoughts about him. Marcus was yet another problem that needed solving immediately, but how many more problems like this were piling up, making everything bend under their weight? You wanted to help him, but you didn’t know how. Silco lifted his head and reached for a piece of paper on the desk. Something inside you stirred when he used the word "remove." Did he show the same rationality in the case of Vander? No, after Sevika’s words, you knew that incident had a strong impact on him.

"We can keep speculating about Marcus's motives, but I think you’d rather rest before tomorrow’s operation," he extended the folded paper towards you. "This is for Sevika."

"What?"

Confused, you looked at him, not understanding what he meant. Since when did your rest matter for the success of the mission?

"You didn’t think this was the end. You’re going with them. It’s pretty clear."

"Me? Why do I need to go?"

"I promised you I wouldn’t keep you out of this problem," he said calmly, as if everything had already been decided. "Besides, your skills might come in handy."

"A thief on the battlefield? Are you wishing me death?" you joked, trying to ease the tension.

"A thief with a keen ear," his voice was steady, and his gaze left no room for doubt that he was serious. "Sevika has a role prepared for you."

It dawned on you that he wasn’t joking. You hadn’t thought you were needed there. Your tasks had always been in the shadows, not on the front lines. It surprised you that he remembered his words from a few weeks ago. It was simple... nice. A feeling you hadn’t had in a long time.

You shifted nervously, unsure how to respond. You nodded, knowing that he had just given you something important – the chance to finish this personally. You wouldn’t have to wait for news, sitting on edge, fearing that something had gone wrong. That was precious. Both of you knew that you would be exposed to the drug. He trusted you to handle it. You couldn’t mess this up.

You stood up, ready to leave. You wouldn’t have time to rest before the mission, but you needed a moment to clear your mind. You pushed the memories of your mother aside, not letting them take over. When the sun rises, you had to have a clear mind. You couldn’t afford a moment of weakness.

"Thank you... I’ll go now," your words sounded foreign, as if you weren’t sure of them yourself.

"I need you focused," his voice was firm, almost harsh. "Whatever’s on your mind, it can wait."

"How...?" you asked, more surprised by his perceptiveness than the tone itself.

"I know when something's bothering you. Whatever it is, it has to wait."

You were more surprised by how quickly he understood your feelings than by the fact that he knew your mind was preoccupied. You would have thought of this as an arrogant comment, pointing out your lack of focus, but now... He was watching you, waiting for your response. He wasn’t irritated; you saw genuine concern in his eyes. He needed your skills for this task, but he also cared about your safety. You knew yourself well enough to understand that you could rush after someone without thinking about the consequences for yourself. You dropped your shoulders and took a deep breath.

"I should be worried that you see all this so clearly," you replied calmly, with a hint of irony in your voice. "But I’m not going to put anyone at risk. I know what I need to do. I know how important this mission is."

He nodded, as if accepting your words. But something in his gaze stopped you. It seemed like he hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more but wasn’t sure if it was the right moment.

He slowly stood up, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape. The simple movement seemed to stretch on forever. You saw him step closer, almost shyly.

The tension in the room grew with each passing second, filling the space between you. You felt your heart racing and your stomach tightening in a strange anticipation. You swallowed, trying to calm the tremor in your hands.

"For a while, I hoped that something simple would be enough and that I wouldn’t have to get involved, that I could escape from... you," he began quietly, slowly closing the distance between you. "But when you came in here with your monologue about my worth, I realized I couldn’t escape it... and, in a way, I don’t want to. I still think you know what you’re getting into, but I’m not going to stop you. And not because you need to learn a lesson. I don’t want to see you walk away."

You blinked, trying to process his words. Did he just...? Not now. Not now, when you were about to dive into danger.

"You really have a great sense of timing," you remarked dryly, crossing your arms. "Why are you telling me this now?"

He stopped right in front of you, his presence almost overwhelming. He looked at you, and in his eyes, there was a flicker of something difficult to name – maybe pain, maybe hope.

"Do I need a reason?" he asked softly.

Instead of answering, you raised an eyebrow and gave him a challenging look. Slowly, he stepped even closer, until there were only a few centimeters between you. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the faint smell of smoke and something else – something that made your head spin.

“Your words did not give me peace,” he continued, and his voice grew in intensity. “I didn't want to believe you were serious. It was easier to pretend you were wrong.  Somehow I didn't want to admit to myself that you were right. That I had found someone who was not afraid of me or my past.

You furrowed your brow, feeling anger mixing with something you didn’t want to name yet.

"I’m not going to repeat myself," you said carefully, suppressing your irritation. "You should have given me this warning before you kissed me."

He probably didn’t expect that response. You saw his eyes flash with something primal, unsettling, and dangerously enticing.

"You’re right," he admitted, lowering his voice.

You didn’t know what to say. The atmosphere had become thick, as though the walls of the room were closing in on you. You felt the heat slowly erasing your caution.

"You throw me confessions like this, just before we go on a mission?" you said, trying to break the silence. Your voice was soft, almost trembling. "You’re getting inside my head, and you know I won’t be able to stop thinking about it. You know that... and still, you do this to me."

He looked down at you, his gaze softening. You felt like the ground was slipping away from under you.

"I know," his voice was quiet, almost gentle. He leaned in slightly, his closeness making it hard to breathe. "I also know you’re too stubborn to listen to me. That’s why you have to come back. You have to come back and show me that you’re not wrong about your plan."

Chapter Text

Morning in Piltover awakened lazily, with sunlight barely breaking through the tightly clustered buildings. The apartment you were in looked like any other, filled with traces of daily life belonging to someone who still hadn’t returned from the night shift. The kitchen table was set with an unfinished meal, the air carried the scent of cheap soap, and a chair leaned toward the window. When you entered, for a moment, it felt like you were breaking into someone’s home. But Sevika walked in as if it were her own and immediately sat on the empty spot on the couch, unfazed by who you were or where you were.

You were accompanied by two other workers. If you’d ever seen them before, you must have erased them from your memory quickly because their faces meant nothing to you—tired and gray like everyone else’s. The woman was short, with mousey, cropped hair, and the man’s hunched shoulders gave the impression of a predatory bird. Not wanting to seem like an amateur, you followed their lead and took a seat, pretending you knew what you were doing. The problem was, you had no idea why Sevika had brought you along.

You sat on a chair by the windowsill, observing the building below through the simple curtain. It wasn’t the view you had imagined when you first heard about the central hub. Honestly, it was hard to picture. What did "hub" even mean? Did someone tie and tangle the pipes to make the work harder? Nonsense.

The main pipeline clearly stood out from the rest of Piltover—a stark, simple block that looked like someone had mistakenly shoved it into place. The white-and-gold buildings of the city sparkled in the morning sun, while this concrete relic drew attention with its blandness. Although it wasn’t damaged, it lacked the elegance and finesse characteristic of the city’s architecture. What might have been adorned with intricate carvings and ornate railings elsewhere was replaced here by simple, functional forms—everything subordinated to efficiency, not aesthetics.

The pipes coiling around the building resembled the tangled veins of old hands, snaking upward and branching in various directions. Though modern, their presence disrupted the harmony of the surroundings, creating an almost grotesque image of chaos in Piltover’s orderly world. From the third-floor window, you could see workers in tidy uniforms slowly making their way toward the plaza exit. The sight seemed almost out of place—Piltover residents doing manual labor? Well, maybe not everything here shone as brightly as in the pictures.

On the way to this staging point, Sevika had explained a bit about the location. The hub only operated at night due to the massive energy demands required to perform essential tasks. To avoid causing problems for the surrounding residents, the daytime shift had been abandoned. This made your job easier. Knowing this detail would help spot Marcus’s people—or rather, Finn’s men.

The yard behind the building, though clean, showed signs of neglect. The chain-link fence was simple but far from perfect—bulging in places as if it could no longer withstand the pressure of its surroundings. Even the few barrels and crates stacked in the corner looked more like decoration than an essential part of the worksite. “It’s clear that Piltover’s elegance ends where the real work begins,” you thought, gripping the windowsill.

No one said it outright, but you felt Sevika expected your full focus. Without a word, you sat by the window and observed the site. The scent of dust mixed with the smell of food, creating a strange combination. What was this place? Without realizing it, you asked the question aloud.

“How many places like this do you think there are in Piltover?” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

“What are you on about now?” Sevika asked in a slightly weary tone.

You shrugged without taking your eyes off the yard below.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that Silco even has hideouts here?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you were surprised to see the two workers exchanging uncertain looks. You furrowed your brows, not understanding their reaction. Irritation crept in, fueled by the minimal amount of sleep you’d gotten, and Silco’s words certainly hadn’t helped. Just when you thought sleep was finally within reach, you’d been dragged out of bed and stuffed into the back of a vehicle before you even remembered your own name. Every small gesture started to feel like an act of aggression toward you.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“More than once, and probably not for the last time,” you replied with a slight smirk.

But you didn’t get an answer. The pair continued to exchange glances before pulling out a deck of cards and starting a game, as if this were just another ordinary morning. You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to press the topic further. You knew Silco’s web of connections stretched across the Undercity, but seeing its reach in Piltover was an intriguing experience. Silco hated Piltover, yet he knew he needed eyes even here. As you pondered who else might be working for him, you felt as if even the walls were watching you. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Actually, why are we here so early?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “We could’ve waited until everything started. No one’s going to mess with this during the day.”

The couch creaked as Sevika shifted suddenly.

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighed, exasperated. “Do you know what would happen if we came here at noon? Halfway through, we’d have a couple of patrols on our backs. I’m not in the mood to bust you out of jail again.”

The pair playing cards exchanged glances once more, visibly surprised that anyone dared to make such remarks in Sevika’s presence. You clenched your jaw, remembering that incident. You wanted to point out that it hadn’t been your fault, but this time you let it go. You knew trying to explain yourself would be pointless. Pressing your lips together tighter, you looked back out the window, pretending her words hadn’t bothered you.

Time passed slowly, heavily. The sounds of the waking city filled the silence, where every creak and tap echoed in your head. Sevika seemed distracted—maybe by memories, maybe by the plan—but she kept throwing quick, fleeting glances at the building you were watching. She couldn’t sit still for long, as if even thinking about waiting annoyed her.

You, on the other hand, were on edge. You wondered about your place in all of this. It wasn’t easy. Despite Sevika’s training, you weren’t as good a fighter as the others. You could observe, track, and analyze, but fighting? No. That part of the job didn’t come naturally to you. The only fight you were waging now was with your own thoughts. Staying focused was becoming increasingly difficult because you felt Sevika didn’t want you here. That would explain her colder-than-usual behavior.

Talking wasn’t an option. Not now. Sevika was entirely focused on the task, and you knew this wasn’t the kind of topic to discuss in front of others. You were left alone with your thoughts, which you couldn’t seem to escape. You were tempted to glance at her face—to check if that coldness was still there—but in the end, you stopped yourself. You couldn’t afford mistakes. There were more important things than your feelings.

The words she spoke yesterday weighed heavily on your mind. You realized how much would depend on your actions today. You weren’t sure if her remark carried more than a casual jab, but you wanted to believe it did. Maybe it was a test. Or perhaps Sevika saw something in you that you hadn’t yet noticed yourself.

You began making room in your mind for plans about the future. A future that had recently been leading you in one direction. Zaun. At first, it seemed absurd to you. You thought Silco had somehow gotten into your head, that he was the reason you didn’t want to leave. But there was something more—something you noticed only recently. What Marcus did made you realize that there was a space in your heart for your people. The people of Zaun. You wanted to help them, even if they’d never know how much you risked to protect them.

Sevika was the key to that.

A single word from her could remove you from the assignments. She wouldn’t defy Silco’s orders, but she could make your life in the team much harder. You didn’t want Silco to have to step in for you. That would feel like failure. No. You needed to earn your place on your own. Prove to her that you could be relied upon. But how could you do that when you didn’t even know what your role in this mission was?

Finally, hours later, something changed.

“They’re here,” you blurted, standing abruptly.

Sevika quickly approached the window and looked outside. Two vehicles emerged from the building’s rear entrance. Men jumped out of the cabs and began carrying heavy barrels inside. They worked without haste, clearly confident that no one was watching them.

“Gather the team,” she said curtly to a man.

Finley—that was his name, you finally recalled—leapt to his feet, stuffed the playing cards into his pocket, and left the apartment faster than you could blink. You waited impatiently for her to give you an order, but she didn’t so much as glance your way. Instead, she turned to a woman and handed her a package.

“For the drivers. Half now, half when they’re done. Stay downstairs until our people get in, then move. Got it?”

The blonde nodded and left the apartment just as swiftly. Her footsteps in the corridor were barely audible. Now, it was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt nervous in her presence.

“You and I will deal with the guards.”

You inhaled sharply, caught off guard. You weren’t quick enough to mask your reaction, and she gave you a questioning look. You pressed your lips together firmly, refusing to be provoked. This wasn’t the time for questions or defiance.

You left the apartment in silence. Watching her straight back as she walked ahead, you realized this was the first time you’d be doing something together. You just hoped the stress wouldn’t overwhelm you to the point of distraction. You stumbled slightly as a thought struck you.

“Sevika? What do you mean by ‘deal with them’?”

“I knew you’d ask,” she muttered without even looking at you. “Neutralize them. They can’t interfere.”

A chill ran through you. Of course, you knew this mission wouldn’t be bloodless—it was inevitable. But you’d secretly hoped you wouldn’t have to do it yourself. You didn’t respond. What was the point? You knew what you had signed up for. Silco always gave you a choice. You could have refused yesterday, told him you didn’t want to be part of this. But if you had known what awaited you, would you really have refused? No. You had to face this head-on. This wasn’t about them testing you. You were testing yourself.

Thoughts about belonging were easier than proving you couldn’t be broken.

You stopped at the edge of an alleyway. Ahead, you saw the side of the building, shielded by a rusty fence with several cracks in it. The surroundings were quiet, with only distant sounds of people heading to their duties. They couldn’t see you. Sevika grabbed the fence and lifted it effortlessly, as if it weighed no more than a sheet of paper. You slipped inside, hiding behind some barrels. The guards on the ramp were too engrossed in smoking cigarettes and watching the far side of the yard. They looked relaxed, confident.

Good. They’d mistaken confidence for carelessness.

Sevika crouched beside you. She pulled out a gun and checked it. The sight of the weapon in her hands made your heart race. You forced yourself not to show it, but she must have noticed. Her face, however, betrayed nothing—she was focused, as if nothing else existed but the mission.

She looked up at you, and you saw that speck in her left pupil. You couldn’t stop staring until you felt something cold against your hand.

“Even if you don’t use it, it’s better to have it,” she said quietly, pressing a gun into your hand.

You wanted to throw it away. You didn’t want to have anything to do with this. But she was right. You swallowed hard and gripped the gun tightly. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Let’s have some fun,” Sevika said, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.

You moved closer to the ramp. The guards didn’t even glance your way, too absorbed in their conversation. Sevika touched your shoulder.

“You take the one on the left,” she whispered, her voice as sharp as steel. “And do it quickly. We don’t want a spectacle.”

You nodded, though you felt like you were boiling inside. Your hands clenched the gun too tightly. Sevika must have noticed. You expected a dry remark, some biting comment. But instead, her gaze pierced through you.

“Not the time for this,” she said quietly, almost threateningly. “Don’t tell me Silco was wrong about his investment.”

“What did you just say?” you blurted out, but Sevika had already turned away.

She didn’t reply. That word—“investment”—rang in your ears. Why bring that up now? You didn’t have time to analyze her motives. You had no choice but to follow her lead.

A few steps later, you were close enough to see the oil stains on their boots. You recalled all of Sevika’s lessons. Every move, every strike. You knew how to do this. A single knife thrust in the right place, and the one on the left wouldn’t get up again. But… did Sevika really expect you to kill him in cold blood?

Before you could dwell on it, Sevika lunged at her target, and you, driven by adrenaline, did the same. The guard on the left barely had time to reach for his weapon before you kicked it out of his hand. The gun skittered across the platform, hitting the railing.

Startled, he followed its path with his eyes. Those two seconds were all you needed. You struck him in the temple with the butt of your gun, and as he staggered, you hit him again. This time, he fell to his knees, then to the ground. The metal floor groaned softly as he hit it face-first. You heard a crunch. You hadn’t killed him, but you hadn’t been gentle either.

You turned to see Sevika choking her opponent. The man flailed for a moment before his body went limp. Sevika let him drop to the ground without emotion.

"Stop staring," she said, wiping her hands. "We need to drag them somewhere."

You tried to lift your guard, but he seemed to weigh a ton. Frustrated, you groaned, and Sevika rolled her eyes.

"Thanks, but I could handle it," you said indignantly as she moved to handle your guard.

"I don’t doubt it," she replied. "But I don’t have time to watch you struggle."

You hid their bodies in a corner between some barrels. For a moment, you stared at the tangled limbs, trying to steady your breath.

"I didn’t kill him," you said quietly, not turning around.

Sevika paused. You heard her holstering her weapon but not walking away.

"I know," she finally answered. Her voice was softer than you expected. "It’s good you’re starting to understand what working for him entails. But I wouldn’t force you to kill someone."

"And what about them? They’ll wake up and spill everything."

"Marcus will find out someone’s learned his plans regardless. What matters is they can’t link us to Silco."

Her tone was calm, but in Sevika’s eyes, you saw something that momentarily took your breath away. Was it concern? Or just relief that the mission had gone as planned? It was hard to tell. You wiped your hands on your pants, though they only felt stickier. This wasn’t over yet. Forcing yourself to look away from the bodies, you noticed Sevika nodding toward the door, clearly ready to move to the next phase of the operation.

You moved closer, careful not to make a sound. You knew operations like this in broad daylight were risky, and the margin for error was almost nonexistent.

"How much time do you need to open this?" she asked quietly, her hand already on the doorknob.

You glanced at the lock, the corners of your mouth curling into a faint, almost cheeky smile.

"You’ve got to be kidding," you replied, stretching your arms, knowing even blindfolded you couldn’t mess this up.

Kneeling before the door, you reached for your lockpick without even looking. Your fingers moved automatically, following a rhythm you knew by heart. Two seconds later, a soft click echoed in the silence. You raised your head smugly, tucking the lockpick back into your bag with exaggerated nonchalance.

"Did you say something?" you teased, glancing up at Sevika.

You couldn’t resist, even though her mood seemed sour today. To your surprise, you caught a hint of something like approval in her eyes—though expressed in her usual stern, characteristic way.

"Well, maybe Silco didn’t make a mistake with his investment after all," she muttered with a half-smile, peering through the now-ajar door.

The words made your stomach lurch. She did it again. This time, you were sure it was deliberate. You weren’t angry at Silco anymore for that conversation—you had cleared the air long ago. But Sevika? She knew exactly what emotions that one word would stir and chose to use it today when you wanted so badly to impress her.

"Could you not?" you hissed through clenched teeth, feeling your irritation grow.

Sevika shrugged indifferently, her smile seeming to jab at you further.

"Just making sure you’re worth the trouble."

You shot her a warning glare, but as always, she ignored it. She chuckled softly and pulled the door shut again, leading into the building. But that laugh was different this time. There was a bitterness to it, as if something kept her from fully enjoying the success.

"So this was some kind of test?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

"Something like that," she replied calmly, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

You scoffed under your breath, offended. Sevika always tested people—it was her nature. You understood that, as Silco’s right hand, she couldn’t afford mistakes when choosing collaborators. But understanding didn’t ease the sting of resentment that gnawed at you inside. Silco believed you were ready for more. Why did Sevika still have doubts?

"I’d rather know when I’m under scrutiny," you said quietly, keeping your emotions in check, trying to suppress your anger.

She fell silent for a moment, as if something in your words caught her off guard. She assessed you with a look that betrayed none of her thoughts before shrugging, as though deciding the matter wasn’t worth commenting on.

"Fair enough," she admitted after a pause.

Her words were dry, but this time you caught something else in them. Was it an attempt to acknowledge your value? Or perhaps she’d simply confirmed you wouldn’t be a liability? It was hard to tell, but you knew one thing—this time, you had won.

"What’s next?" you asked, feeling the tension tighten around your throat. Time wasn’t on your side.

"You wait here," she said firmly, snuffing out her cigarette with her boot. Her voice was hard, as if to cut off any doubts. "When the rest arrive, let them in. Keep me informed. Got it?"

You nodded, trying to take the task seriously. Sevika didn’t mince words. With one fluid motion, she adjusted her cloak and leapt gracefully to the ground, a movement that always irritated you—as if everything she did was destined for success.

"What’s the plan?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself. "What’s going to happen to the cargo?"

"That shouldn’t be your concern," she replied, not even turning toward you. Her voice was barely audible, strangely altered. "Just guard the entrance. That’s it."

You wanted to say something—just one word that might express your disappointment. But Sevika was already out of reach, disappearing around the corner of the building as swiftly as she took control of every situation.

Left alone, you sighed heavily and leaned against the cold railing. Her orders were clear: stay on lookout. You were to guard the entrance while she took care of everything else. But why had she sidelined you? Why didn’t she let you be part of the main action?

Her decision seemed logical, but it planted a seed of doubt in your mind. Perhaps she thought the task was beyond your abilities. Even the guards had been too much for you because you froze at the thought of taking a life. Or maybe… maybe she simply didn’t trust you? Not completely. The thought that Sevika might question your reliability stung. But could you blame her? After all, you’d only recently beaten your addiction, and Sevika knew that better than anyone.

You gripped the cold metal of the railing, trying to push away the growing doubts. Did she really think you couldn’t handle it? That you might fail if faced with what was inside? It made sense. That drug... It turned people into caricatures of themselves, gave the illusion of power, only to strip everything away in the end. Did Sevika truly believe you might break?

You sighed softly, attempting to clear your head of the torrent of thoughts. Sevika had her reasons. That had to be enough. If her coldness was the price of entering their world, you had to accept it. Even if you felt more like a burden than a real part of the team.

If she was to trust that you were fit for the job, you had to trust her too. Prove that you wouldn’t question her orders, even when they hurt. You would’ve agonized over this even more if it weren’t for the growing noise to your left. You lifted your head and saw a group of people slowly approaching the back gate. You crouched down, hoping they wouldn’t notice you. You were too exposed. Fortunately, a moment later, you spotted Sevika among them. You caught her gaze. She nodded in your direction. You opened the door, careful not to let it creak.

The men began climbing the stairs. A few of them carried bags on their backs. Irregular shapes pressed against the fabric, and you couldn’t tell what was inside. They all wore the familiar gray coveralls, blending in with the other workers. You were curious, but you bitterly reminded yourself of her words—that transportation wasn’t your concern.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the group enter. You counted twenty men and barely five packages. It was hard not to feel sidelined after spending weeks unraveling Marcus’s plans, only to be benched when the time came to stop him. Did Silco know what Sevika was planning when she told you there was a role for you? Your head felt like it would explode from the storm of thoughts. You leaned over the railing, trying to focus. Something told you there was a mismatch in their plans for you, but you couldn’t pinpoint where.

You only lifted your head after the door closed behind the last man. Watching the yard, you leaned your forearms against the railing, resisting the urge to dwell on your resentment.

You knew Sevika was standing beside you. She hadn’t gone inside with the others. You remained silent, trying to steady your breathing. You didn’t want to start a conversation yet. You needed to calm down first, to avoid saying something you’d regret.

“I know it’s hard, but you need a harsh dose of reality,” she finally said. Her tone was serious, but not cold. “You say you know what you’ve signed up for, but your actions suggest otherwise.”

“Don’t try to mother me, alright?” you interrupted sharply, clenching your fists. “I know exactly what it means to work for Silco.”

“Listen—”

“Save it, okay? I don’t need your reassurances,” you took a deep breath, trying to calm your growing irritation. “I know what you’re doing. I don’t trust myself when it comes to shimmer either. I don’t know how I’d react, but… I don’t blame you for sidelining me. I’m not questioning your decision. If you think I shouldn’t know, I accept that. No questions asked.”

You felt your anger slowly give way to clarity. As you said those words aloud, without hesitation or trembling, you knew you were speaking from the heart.

“So, you figured it out?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, though her voice remained neutral.

“A child would’ve figured it out,” you replied, perhaps too dryly.

Sevika fell silent, but this time she didn’t try to press you. She repeated the same message as Silco—you don’t know what you’re getting into. It was bitter and painful, that she couldn’t see your sincerity. Wasn’t what you’d already done proof enough of your commitment?

“They’re setting up the equipment downstairs,” she said suddenly, changing the subject. Her voice was quieter, as if she were trying to diffuse the tension. “Two streets over, the rest of the team is waiting for the signal to start draining the shimmer. There’s a simple channel underneath us. That’s where we’ll run the pipe to draw the shimmer from the main line. We don’t have much time before the evening shift starts.”

Her words sounded like a report, but you sensed something more. Maybe she was trying to calm you, to distract your thoughts so you wouldn’t act impulsively. She knew you well enough to anticipate that.

“I understand,” you said curtly, knowing she was waiting for your response.

In the silence, you heard the flick of a lighter, and a moment later, Sevika stood beside you. She leaned against the railing, mirroring your stance.

“I’m not sidelining you,” she said after a moment, her voice surprisingly calm. “No one is ignoring your contribution. You were given this task because you’re the only one here I trust to do the job better than I ask. I know how much you’ve done, but you can’t be part of every operation.”

There was something more in her words, something she was trying to convey but didn’t know how to put into words. You realized this wasn’t easy for her either.

“I know what I’m doing,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “I’m not here just for him. I’m trying to show all of you that I want to belong. Completely.”

You felt a little embarrassed at the gravity of your own words, but you knew they were true.

“I know,” she replied, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. “I see it. So does he.” She took a drag from her cigarette and looked away. “Do you know where your problem lies?” she asked suddenly, turning her back to the yard. “You’re too emotional about problems. Are you going to approach every task like this? A year of living like that and you’ll burn out completely. Learn to balance work and emotions before it destroys you.”

She patted your shoulder and moved closer to the door. You heard her footsteps but not the sound of the door opening. You glanced back. Sevika stood in the doorway, as if hesitating.

“This was my idea, not his,” she said suddenly, her voice lower, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I insisted you shouldn’t come inside with us. Not because I don’t trust you… but because I don’t want you exposed to shimmer.”

She didn’t wait for your response. She walked inside, almost slamming the door behind her. For a moment, you stared after her, surprised by the intensity of her reaction. Something in you broke, but it wasn’t your resolve—it was something deeper. You began to understand that Sevika was trying to protect you. She was afraid that even the faintest whiff of the drug might trigger something in you that would take you out of the fight.

That, though painful, was strangely comforting.

You didn’t want her treating you like fragile glass that might shatter at the slightest touch, but you knew her actions came from a place of care. Both of you understood the risks. Both of you knew how easily shimmer could take hold of you again. You weren’t going to let it happen a second time. There wouldn’t be another chance—Sevika was doing everything she could to tilt the scales in your favor.

Chapter Text

Running through unfamiliar terrain was nothing short of tempting fate.

You knew that how far you could lead the guards would determine the success of the mission. Sevika hadn't said how long it would take them to drain the shimmer from the barrels. It was still too early for them to be even halfway done. The thought that there were fifty barrels of that stuff made your head spin. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel the pull towards it, your mind wasn’t filled with an uncontrollable desire.

At one point, the houses ended, as if someone had drawn a clear line and said, "this is enough." You didn’t realize you had entered the green zones until you were already running through them. Panic gripped you at the sudden exposure. You didn’t know how to behave in such an environment. You were raised in the city, and it never crossed your mind to venture beyond it. You knew that Piltover and Zaun were connected by more than just bridges, but this area had remained unexplored. There were no people here to rob, only the dead and their memories.

A few seconds, that's all it would take before they saw you in the open field and started shooting. That was certain—you wouldn’t stand a chance. Would you die like she did? With your mouth full of your own blood, because one of them hesitated to pull the trigger?

You pushed off hard with your right leg and jumped into the trees, which, luckily, were dense enough. But nature was not known for cooperating. You quickly crouched between the roots, hoping they would lose your trail. They’d be looking for a lone fugitive, someone who was running through the city. They’d associate you with Zaun—of course, no one would think otherwise. After all, you were criminals, right?

You adjusted yourself, relieved your knee, hoping it wouldn’t stiffen too soon. You cursed under your breath as a small branch snapped under your calf. You felt real fear for your life. This wasn’t a game or a small skirmish you could escape by climbing onto one of the roofs. You knew the guards were trained for such tasks. You froze, afraid to move.

As you suspected, they ran out from the alley just a few seconds after you. You fought the instinct to hide even further. It might’ve worked in the city, not between trees where every leaf seemed to conspire against you. You had developed a few interesting rules during your time in Zaun. If someone didn’t expect you, there was a great chance they wouldn’t notice you, even if you were standing right next to them. They weren’t prepared to see your face among others, so they didn’t look for it and could easily overlook it. But they knew they were looking for someone. You had a scarf over your face, they didn’t realize it was the same person who had been at one of the outposts a while ago.

In Zaun, there were many distractions for the enemy. Streetlights and the voices of passersby effectively masked footsteps. You could escape quickly, knowing they wouldn’t be able to track the direction you fled. This area wasn’t familiar to you; you had already made one mistake when you moved, and you couldn’t afford to do it again. You knew every move was an excuse for the animals to flee. A bird suddenly taking flight was a sign it had been startled.

You stayed still, keeping an eye on them.

You knew even the smallest movement could be noticed. Few people knew this, but sometimes a glance down could cause your head to drop slightly. You kept your gaze level, holding yourself firm, watching even the slightest twitch in your muscles.

You saw them slow down as they came out from between the buildings. The blue uniforms shone in the sun. You saw the sunlight reflect off the metal parts of their rifles. You shuddered at the sight of them. You saw the destruction that weapon could cause. If they aimed it at you, you wouldn’t end up with just one bullet. They lowered their weapons, but they were still alert. You hid on the edge of the trees; it was risky, but thanks to that—and your hearing—you could hear them exchanging words.

"I told you to turn the other way."

"I'm sure I heard footsteps from here," one of them denied, not changing course.

They expected you to run as far away from them as possible. They hadn’t anticipated that you could hide. The urge to back away as they got closer was overwhelming.

"Listen, we don’t have time for this."

They started to split up, the skeptical one staying at the edge of the buildings, while the other one got closer to your hiding spot.

"I’m sure it’s somewhere here..."

"Do whatever you want, I’m heading back to the outpost," the other shouted in response.

Your heart stopped for a moment. Could it really be that simple? Would they just give up the search? You had to channel all your focus into willpower, not letting yourself jump up to flee at the sound of those words.

"And what are you going to tell the boss? That someone was here, but you couldn’t be bothered to move your ass to check?"

"God, do you always have to pick at everything? It’s just one person, what could they have done?"

The one closer turned abruptly and raised his weapon slightly. Something was going on between them, you could feel that important words might be exchanged soon, but the blood rushed to your ears, nearly blocking your hearing.

"That one person was from the Undercity. They're filthy scum, what would they be doing this far from their own?"

"And what does that have to do with me? I’m not going to go crawling through holes chasing after some worthless prize."

The guard turned his back on his partner and straightened, confident in his words.

"You heard the boss’s orders at the briefing. This place might be an attack."

You nearly flinched at the mention of that. What was Marcus up to now?

"Yeah, and one person planned the whole attack, give me a break."

"Do you even have room in that empty head of yours for something like reconnaissance? They sent someone ahead to scout the area."

The second one shook his head in clear disapproval, but to your misfortune, he followed his partner’s lead and started moving closer.

"Do whatever you want," he said in a low voice, and even from a distance, you could hear the light, irritated growl in his tone. "I’m going back to the city, I’m not crawling through the bushes looking for someone who’s probably not even here anymore."

The more persistent one ignored his partner’s words. He nodded, clearly lost in thoughts of catching you.

"Your call. Tell whoever needs to know that we saw a suspicious person. I’ll search a little more."

Now, when you should be running, you couldn’t move. Marcus was proving to be craftier than you had imagined. You didn’t know if he suspected Silco would send his men. He probably thought Zarys had spilled everything, but even to you, the last person he’d seen, he hadn’t said anything new about Marcus’s plans. Silco, even if he had opened his mouth, wouldn’t have said anything either—if he had the chance. Marcus was panicked and securing his plan wherever he could. There was also the possibility that he didn’t trust the hired men and had sent his own people, just in case, to keep an eye on the building. Sneaky bastard.

The guard moved. You knew that if you allowed him to return to his post, the news would spread quickly and more guards would come to investigate the commotion.

You couldn’t let them go. You didn’t stand a chance against them. If they saw you, they would start shooting. It was a fight, cruel and bitter, but you knew who the winner would be.

You promised Silco you’d come back to him, but you weren’t so sure about that anymore.

They had to pick up the trail again. Anything that would mess with their heads. They’d start chasing you, forgetting they were supposed to inform the others. At least that’s what you hoped. It hurt, you could almost feel the physical pain thinking about breaking your word to him. The stakes were higher. Your life, or the lives of all those people, and the success of the mission.

The equation was simple.

You quietly picked up the nearest stone and weighed it in your hand. You literally had seconds before they reloaded their weapons. Attacking them didn’t make sense; you wouldn’t defeat one, let alone the others aiming at you. You had to run. Lure them as far as possible. Buy Sevika as much time as you could.

You threw the stone far ahead of you and then froze, your hand still raised. They immediately took notice. The one closer to you aimed his weapon at the spot where the stone had fallen and motioned for his partner to join him. The other raised his weapon as well and started moving toward the same spot. You took a deep breath. You had decided which way you would run.

You broke into a sprint, using the element of surprise.

Your heart pounded wildly. You kept your head low. The first shot whistled past you, embedding itself in a tree. Chunks of wood flew. You heard them shouting after you, but you didn’t have time to think about that. They had seen you. They were chasing you. The metal parts of their gear clanged together. You had no idea how far it was to the first buildings. If by some miracle you managed to draw them into Zaun, you knew the other residents wouldn’t let them roam the city with their guns raised.

But Zaun was too far.

Another bullet lodged itself in the ground next to your feet. You lost your balance for a moment. You stumbled, feeling your shoe slip on the wet leaves without your consent. Your heart leaped into your throat. You didn’t have time for mistakes.

You tensed your muscles, forcing them to work. Each breath burned your lungs, and your leg muscles threatened to give out at any moment. Another shot rang out right behind you, sending a surge of adrenaline through you. You couldn’t stop—you knew that meant the end.

The trees flashed before your eyes, creating a blurry image. You were running out of breath. Without the drug in your system, you couldn’t keep up the pace. They had the advantage over you. Taller, stronger, with longer strides. Just a little more, a few more seconds, so they’d have more time.

Then you felt it—a strong grip on your shoulder. The guard grabbed you with full force, almost tearing your arm from its socket. You howled in pain. He held you in an iron grip, and there was no way to break free. Was this how your heroism would end? Or was it foolishness?

He yanked you around, and you felt the darkness narrowing your field of vision. Everything happened in a split second—fear, pain, pure desperation.

“Don’t move!” he snarled, digging his feet into the ground, trying to hold you in place. You saw his face—clenched teeth, a determined expression that told you no matter what you said, you wouldn’t convince him you were innocent.

It couldn’t end like this. Thoughts flickered in your mind. Plans with memories. Marcus knew you. You wouldn’t walk free. No amount of money could buy you out of prison.

That’s why you have to come back.

It was an impulse. Anger and desperation. A desire to return to him. You didn’t think. You jerked your whole body backward, hoping the fall would force him to let go of your arm. You pulled him with you. A fraction of a second, a moment of balance that slipped out of control. A misstep you hadn’t noticed became your trap. The guard’s scream mixed with yours as you both tumbled down.

The fall wasn’t long, but it was enough for the air to be knocked out of your lungs. Sharp branches and stones pierced your body as you slid down the slope. You tried to grab something, but your hands only slipped on the wet earth. Everything ended with a sudden crash—a pain that shot through you from your head down to your spine. You tried to get up, but your body refused to cooperate. You quickly looked around.

You froze, seeing his limp body. Had you killed him? The thought hit you like lightning. You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you looked at his still form. But after a moment, you noticed his chest rising in a steady rhythm. He was alive. You breathed out, but the relief was bitter.

You propped yourself up on your shoulders. The dizziness hit you. You groaned loudly as a sharp pain ran through your whole body. You saw the other guard running toward you. His eyes slid over you, then stopped at his fallen companion. He didn’t raise his weapon, but you could feel the tension in him. He bent over his colleague, checking his condition.

He didn’t say a word. You braced yourself for the moment he would grab your wrist and drag you to the station. Instead, he lifted his companion, throwing his arm over his shoulder.

He turned his back to you.

A strange relief flooded your heart, weakening you completely. You felt your vision fogging. That pair was the last thing you saw before darkness consumed you.

***

You didn’t know how much time had passed. When you finally opened your eyes, the world swirled and pulsed in the dim light. The air was heavy and damp. Breathing was difficult, and every muscle in your body throbbed with pain, as if they had gone on strike together. You weren’t sure if your vision had fully returned—everything was gray. You blinked a few times, but nothing changed. This wasn’t an illusion. It was reality.

You tried to lift your hand to your face, but it quickly fell to the ground. Your fingers sank into the wet leaves. The sensation hit you like a blow. You flinched, trying to rise, but the movement sent another wave of pain through you. You froze for a moment, almost regretting trying at all.

They hadn’t come back for you.

They hadn’t locked you in a cell.

Feeling a lump beneath your back, you struggled to remove your backpack. You dug out a flashlight. Its beam cut through the shadows, illuminating the spot where you last saw the guard. Your heart froze for a moment.

You were alone.

Where his body had been, you saw deep indentations in the earth and broken branches. He was gone. You furrowed your brow, trying to piece together the last events in your mind. The memories returned slowly, like fragments of a dream: the guard, his limp body... and then someone else. The second guard. He had taken his companion, ignoring your presence.

You tried to stand, but the pain paralyzed you. You fell to the ground, clenching your teeth to avoid crying out. You didn’t know how many hours had passed, but you were aware of one thing: you had to go back. Panic flickered in your mind. Sevika. Had what you did been enough? The thought that you might have let them down sent an icy squeeze to your stomach.

After a few attempts, you managed to get to your feet. Your body felt like it was made of cotton, each step pierced by pain. But you had to move. There was no time for hesitation.

Every second you wasted here felt like another pang of guilt. They could be fighting now, risking their lives, and you? The thought of your own helplessness filled you with anger.

You moved forward. The problem was, you had no idea where you were going. You only knew you had entered the area from Piltover. That was the limit of your orientation. The evening was coming to an end, and through the dense underbrush, you couldn't tell which way west was. You didn't know which direction you had fallen from. You sighed heavily, shaking your head. This was incredibly stupid.

You kept moving forward, straining your ears. The sound of water – the river between the cities was your only point of reference. With every step, you felt yourself growing weaker. Your legs were refusing to obey, and your head was spinning more and more.

Suddenly, you heard it – the familiar splash. Your heart skipped a beat. You leaned your hand against the cool bark of a tree, staring into the darkness. In the distance, you saw the outlines of familiar buildings. It was Zaun. The road ahead was still long, but at least you knew where you were headed.

You pushed on, even though every step was a battle with your own body. You knew that if you entered the city in this state, you'd be an easy target. Robbery, assault – that would be the most likely scenario.

At some point, you found yourself at a cemetery. You'd never been here before. You couldn't afford monuments or ceremonies. This place wasn't terrifying, just depressing. The dead and their memories.

You were out of breath. You felt your strength draining away. You stumbled, reaching out to lean on something stable. Eventually, you collapsed onto the cool stone of a monument. You sat heavily on the ground. "Just for a moment," you kept repeating to yourself in your mind.

Your back ached terribly, and the cold of the stone brought some temporary relief. The nausea still wouldn't subside, which worried you more and more. You took a deep breath and pulled out a flashlight. You swept the light around, but there was nothing but trees and gravestones in sight. You straightened up and glanced behind you, curiously checking whose grave you had used as support.

Well, of all the people you could have expected—why her?

Grayson looked down at you, as if trying to convey something with her lifeless stare. You rolled your eyes at the sight.

"Well, look at you," you muttered, as though that could offer you any comfort. "Are you going to judge me too?"

One glance at her name engraved in the stone made your stomach tighten even more. Grayson. The golden icon of order and law. One of those who were supposed to protect the people—but she hadn't protected yours. And what was Vander thinking, making deals with the guards? You wanted to scoff, but all that came out of your mouth was a pathetic moan.

It was easy, quick. To transfer your resentment onto those who could have done something but chose a different path. A peaceful path. Would your life have been different if they had succeeded? Perhaps. Perhaps there wouldn't have been the passive war between the cities. What you did today wouldn't have happened. But you wouldn't be able to live knowing that the peace came at the cost of silence. The council wouldn't allow Zaun to be independent. It would be better for you to shut up with the vision of order than to allow independent growth.

"The City of Progress, right."

You knew that since shimmer entered the game, Piltover feared what you could do. It would even be funny if it weren't for the hundreds of lives at stake. One piece of evidence, one small element, could lead to the brutal subjugation of the "criminals from the lower city."

Unless they've already done it.

You pushed yourself up with difficulty. According to your calculations, you'd been here for about four hours. If they hadn't been caught, that should be enough time for them to escape the scene. How you felt now didn't matter. You thought about how terribly you could have screwed everything up. What mattered was the success of the mission and the team's safety. You felt responsible for them. You wouldn't know peace until you knew they made it home in one piece.

Several minutes later, you crossed the short bridge connecting Zaun to the cemetery. Hiding among the familiar buildings, you felt safer.

You wanted to prove something – show that you could act, that Sevika didn't have to clean up after you. But your impulsiveness had gotten you into trouble. If it weren't for the patrol shift change, no one would have heard the gunshot. Marcus, with his paranoia, had actually changed something. But did that matter? You could analyze your decisions now, but you knew it wouldn't change anything. There was only one thing that mattered – you had to get back to Silco.

You were afraid of what you might hear. But fighting also comes with consequences. There could have been more between you two, but he was still your superior. If you made a mistake, you had to find the courage to look him in the eye and admit what you did.

You were full of conflicting emotions. Every time you thought you were on the right track, that your relationship might finally be improving, you did something stupid. You knew it was your fault. You had one simple task: get back to him. Prove that he wasn't cursed and that not everyone who got close to him would die. Instead, like a self-appointed fool-hero, you took on the patrol.

You pulled your hood over your head and adjusted your scarf over your face. You lowered your head slightly, focusing on the sounds around you. You caught fragments of conversations, but none of them had the information you needed. You waited for anything that might hint whether a larger group had been detained in the upper city. People loved gossip. You should be glad no one was spreading such news around the city. But until you hear it from him or from her, you wouldn't be sure.

You felt fear mixing with anticipation. That guard wouldn't let you go so easily. Why had he let you walk away? Did his ignoring you mean he didn't take seriously the threat his colleague had mentioned? You didn't want to get your hopes up; you didn’t trust the guards, but his behavior was odd.

Well, he probably wouldn't have been so lenient if he knew that just before meeting them, you had killed someone.

You shuddered, feeling the cold on your neck. You wouldn't take back what you did. You wanted to know that you didn't take a life for nothing. You weren't the first – and definitely not the last – to kill so that Silco's plans could continue. That was the price, you knew it, but the image of the bloodstained puddle was burned too deeply under your eyelids. Were you strong enough to live with that?

You hesitated for a fraction of a second as you stepped out of the alley. Before you stood the familiar Last Drop. You should have felt relief being on familiar ground, but the fear that you had ruined all the progress held you tightly.

Oh well, here goes nothing.

You entered and pulled your hood off your head. You looked around at the faces, and with pain, realized that you didn't recognize anyone. No one looked at you with reproach, but you felt judged.

"Here comes our lost one!"

You jumped in surprise when someone touched your shoulder. You glanced to the side. It had been a long time since you felt such relief at the sight of a stranger. Tiana – the woman with mouse-colored hair who had a message for the drivers – was standing next to you, smiling widely as if you had just brought her a prize.

Since she was here, it might mean the mission had finally been successful.

“Wait, what? What loss?” you asked, confused.

She pulled away from curious ears and took a large gulp from a bottle she held in her hand, then pressed it into your palm.

“You’ll need it,” she laughed. “Drink while you can. Sevika is looking for you and she’s pissed.”

The bottle slipped from your hands. The glass shattered on the floor. You knew it couldn’t be that easy. You shoved your hands into your pockets. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw several heads turned your way, but at that moment, only Tiana’s words mattered.

“Is it about the today?” you asked quietly. “What went wrong? Did you get caught? Did someone die?”

The woman was upset about losing her drink, but she sensed the worry in your voice. You had both been part of the task, but she didn’t know why you disappeared.

“Everyone’s alive, but there were problems on the bridge,” she replied seriously. “I don’t know what Sevika wants from you, but I’d advise waiting until she calms down before you go to her.”

“Fuck,” you gasped between breaths.

You pressed a coin into her hand, a compensation for the lost drink, and headed for the stairs. At first, you thought if there were complications, they would happen near the building. But they managed to leave and drive off. Could it be that the guard filed a full report and they were looking for you among them? You knew you had messed up, but at least the blame was on you – it was you the guards were after.

As you climbed the stairs, you no longer knew what to expect. Would Silco be angry at what you did? Once again, you threw yourself into the fray without thinking about the consequences. You didn’t want to make excuses or downplay your guilt by dismissing the problem. Even if no one was detained, it was unclear how Marcus would react to the woman’s death. She didn’t look like she was someone important to Finn. If you had killed a resident of the upper city, you were in big trouble.

Still, you felt calm standing in front of his office door. He could punish you for causing more problems, he could pull you from future actions – he could do whatever he wanted. But you couldn’t be the reason he closed himself off even more.

You raised your hand to knock. You didn’t wait for a response. You pushed the door slightly open and stepped inside quietly, searching for the right words.

Silco was facing away from you. He was leaning over a map of the city. You saw a half-full glass next to him, filled with a familiar liquid. On the other side, smoke was rising from a cigar he had lit but not finished.

“Not now,” he muttered briefly without turning around.

You winced at the sound of his voice. He was tired and irritated. You knew Sevika must have told him what happened. More than his shouting or anger, you feared that you had let him down. He believed you could handle it, but you had acted so recklessly.

“Silco, I…” you started, but your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

He stiffened in an instant. You could clearly see how tense he became when he heard his name from your lips. After a moment, his head dropped lower, as if he was collapsing inward. A sudden weight fell upon him. You knew it was about you and what you had done. You wanted to explain to him what happened, but you were afraid that anything you said would sound like a cheap excuse, something you said to avoid punishment.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he whispered after a moment and raised his head.

Your heart froze for a moment. His voice had changed due to the emotions he was feeling, and you could hear it right away. Guilt mixed with resentment.

“Do you really think that after what happened, I could just run away?”

You didn’t know how to interpret his words. If not for the recent events, you would have taken his words differently, but you weren’t one to keep your composure. You hoped you were wrong and your words had no foundation.

Silco slowly turned toward you. There was something forced in his movements, as if he were trying to control his reactions. His face showed a hint of exhaustion, and in his eyes, you saw something more. Relief, raw and unmasked, which he couldn’t completely hide.

You couldn’t look away from him. His gaze pierced through you. You felt faint at the sight of the mixture of anger, shock, and relief fighting for dominance in his eyes. You didn’t know how to react when he wasn’t trying to suppress those emotions inside himself.

“Never again… don’t make me wait for you like that,” his tone was sharp, almost commanding, but in that sharpness, there was something more – care he was trying to mask. In an instant, you softened, forgetting your stubbornness.

You saw the sudden movement in him as he stepped closer. It was as if he was losing control of himself and acting on instinct. He stopped right in front of you. His hand rose toward your face. You held your breath, unsure how to respond. You felt one cold, steady finger under your chin. Gently but firmly, he pushed it up, forcing you to lift your head, as if the gesture itself said there was no place for resistance. For a moment, he held you in that motionless position, as if he was examining every inch of your face while also watching your eyes and reactions. His hand on your skin mirrored the tension hanging in the air – hard, but not brutal, yet full of conscious strength. With every inch of that movement, you felt not only your body but your mind being pulled into that quiet, inevitable, tense gesture. It wasn’t just checking for wounds; it was something more, something that made you feel like what was happening now had no way back.

“Aren’t you angry?” you asked in a probing voice, hoping he wouldn’t pull away from you when you broke the silence.

He pressed his lips together but didn’t stop observing you. When his gaze shifted to your eyes, his hand stayed in place. Whatever was happening, you didn’t want it to end.

“I’m glad you came back,” he replied softly and gently, but after a moment, the familiar seriousness returned. He stepped back reluctantly and added, “Sevika told me what happened.”

You felt your face stiffen. She was here. You wanted him to hear from you what you did, but maybe it was better that Sevika introduced him to the details. She surely did it more calmly than you ever could.

“I killed someone,” you said after a moment of silence, knowing there wouldn’t be a better time to confess.

In your words, though brief, lay a range of emotions. You were grateful he hadn’t pulled away from you. You needed that confirmation that even in the face of such an act, he didn’t give up on you. You felt tired, your body yearning for rest, but it was your mind that had taken the hardest blow today.

“I know,” he said calmly. “Taking lives is never easy. It’s not supposed to be.”

You flinched hearing those words. You furrowed your brow, searching his face for any sign of disappointment in your actions, but you found nothing that could confirm your guilt.

“How can you be so calm about it?” you asked, taking a step back. “I took someone’s life.”

Your assertiveness surprised him. He raised his hand to his hair, brushing through it, then moved away, sitting on the edge of the desk. 

It was a difficult conversation for you; you were relieved that you wouldn’t be distracted by his proximity, but you began missing it the moment you stepped back.

Silco reached for a cigar and lit it again. He spoke only when a new cloud of smoke hung over you both. You waited for his words, but you didn’t know what to expect from him, or what to expect from yourself.

"Because it will happen again. And the only way to survive this path is to accept that it will never get easier. This is the road you chose."

It struck you exactly where it was meant to. Sharp and firm. His words were not cautious; he didn’t try to hurt you or lead you further. He was honest with you. He watched you, waiting for the moment when the meaning of his words would fully reach you.

You needed a moment to calm your racing thoughts. You had expected to be shocked by the news that you had killed someone, but you had forgotten that what was the first time for you, they had been forced to do for a long time. Almost mechanically, you approached the couch and sank onto it heavily. What irritated you about all of this was the fact that you wanted to be guilty. Only in that way could you save yourself from being lost in brutality. Silco saw it differently. He didn’t ignore the death of that woman; it wasn’t a part of his everyday life. It was something he accepted as another element on the path.

You looked at your hands. You saw red on them. Would you be able to sleep peacefully knowing what you had done?

"It feels… wrong," you said slowly, not entirely sure what you were trying to express with those words. "I didn’t want this, but I know I won’t take back my actions. I know the operation went almost without a hitch, which is why her death seems unnecessary to me."

You faded with each word, overwhelmed by guilt. She had died because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She died because she worked for the man you wanted to stop. That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right.

"She didn’t die in vain. Zaun is built on sacrifices. What you did was instinctive. You saw a threat and eliminated it. That’s something I expect from my people."

The way he spoke made your spine shiver. Unfortunately, he was right. You had chosen this path, you repeated it every time, but you needed confirmation of your words through actions. You wanted their trust, acceptance, and belief in your decisions. This was your life, your choices, and your consequences. No one would guide you through it by the hand. Silco didn’t need weak people. He had told you that—although in anger—but the message was clear. You couldn’t be a burden. If you broke under the weight of one death, the death of someone who would have killed you if she could, you’d show yourself and others that you were weak.

He turned to put out the cigar, and it seemed like he wanted to return to his duties and that you should leave, but he interrupted your thoughts:

"Next time, don’t play the hero, okay?" he asked, but it sounded more like an order. "I know you had good intentions, but you need to understand what would have happened if you had been caught. There were no witnesses now, but not every operation will go so smoothly."

You nodded, but your thoughts were far away. You knew that behind his words wasn’t just concern for you. You had witnessed many important conversations; you carried valuable information that could ruin your plans if it fell into the wrong hands.

"I know, it won’t happen again," you answered defiantly, certain of your words. "I know what’s at stake in this fight. I don’t take back what I said, this is the path I chose for myself."

Silco remained silent, but his posture said more than words could express. He stood by the desk, his hands resting on the surface, his back slightly bent as if bearing the entire weight of Zaun. His face, usually sharp and confident, now seemed tired. His clenched fingers and tense shoulders betrayed an internal struggle. But it was his eyes that caught your attention—devoid of anger or triumph, they showed something more human: doubt, regret, perhaps loneliness.

"What happened showed you what our world looks like. My world. You won’t escape these choices. Are you sure you want this life for yourself?"

You looked at him in silence, suddenly seeing something you had never noticed before. Silco, whom you admired for his strength and determination, was also a man carrying the weight of his choices. He wasn’t a hero or a monster—he was everything at once: a leader, a strategist, a visionary, but also a prisoner of his own ambitions.

"You talk like I had a choice. This blood can’t be washed away, I can only try to live with it," you said sharply, standing up quickly. "Since I was left alone, I’ve been searching for a purpose, something to hold onto. I found it. Today, I did something terrible that will stay with me for a long time, but it’s not strong enough to disrupt my decisions. It’s hard, but no one said the fight for our city would be easy."

You were one of many people on this side of the river who saw how dirty this fight was and had no intention of leaving. Sometimes, you had to get your hands dirty to achieve the goal. Every decision he made, though brutal, was directed towards something greater than himself. He wasn’t afraid to take matters into his own hands when the situation demanded it, and that impressed you more than it should have. Still… you wanted to stay, no matter what.

Not for the illusion you had once seen in him, but for the man you were now beginning to truly understand. He wasn’t flawless—his hands were stained with blood, and his decisions left ruins. But he was still a man fighting for something he believed in—and paying the highest price for it.

Your fascination turned into understanding. The strength he exuded was not innate. It was earned—paid for with daily struggles and sacrifices that left marks on his soul. You had once thought you knew him better than anyone, but now you realized how much he had hidden behind the mask of cold calculation.

"I don’t hesitate, if that’s what you’re thinking," you finally spoke, taking a step towards him. "This is the path I chose."

"I know that whatever I say won’t change your mind." He smiled bitterly for a moment, breaking the seriousness he had tried to impose on the conversation. "I like that you’re stubborn. Maybe someone should be like that..."

You swallowed hard, feeling the air around you grow thick. When he said you didn’t know what you were getting into, he wasn’t challenging you. He wasn’t trying to push you away but protect you from the world he represented and from the weight that came with the decision to stay with him.

"I know what you said, and I know what I’ve seen. But what you’re doing is important. I didn’t understand it back then, but now I see why you have to put Zaun first. I know I won’t take that place, and I have no problem with that."

Silco shifted his gaze to you. Though he focused on you, you still saw a pensive look in his eyes, as if what troubled him wasn’t so easily dismissed. He blinked, and his gaze regained its former sharpness. A faint smile curved his lips, but you could see a bitterness in it—the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

What you were doing to each other was cruel. You wanted to be able to touch him, show him that you weren’t afraid and that you knew what you were doing, but he still wouldn’t let you in. Not physically, emotionally.

"Don’t try to make me a hero. I’m not one."

Instinctively, you took a step toward him, wanting to respond somehow. The sudden flash in his eyes stopped you in your tracks. It was hard to tell whether he wanted that or was warning you not to get closer to him. It disappeared too quickly for you to be sure. You froze, knowing it was probably the last time you could stop yourself from making contact with him. It hurt you that despite your feelings, you didn’t know how much you could allow yourself.

“I’m not trying…”

“I don’t want you to forget what you saw,” he interrupted you calmly, but his voice, although soft and gentle, carried a sharp tone. “How much blood was on that street. Every victory that you would call 'important' comes at the cost of the lives of people who had their own lives, their own dreams. I chose that. And I don’t know if I can be the person you want to see in me.”

You wanted to scream that you understood. Blood was on your hands—hidden, yet tangible. He kept trying to push you away, showing from all sides that living with him meant an eternal struggle. But how was that different from what you’d been doing all along? Silco gave you a reason. He gave you a purpose. Or rather, he helped you step onto the path you’d been searching for all along. You needed it, but at that moment, you didn’t want to walk that path without him. You wanted Silco, and you saw only him, not an image of him.

This was about him.

Your shoulders slumped. You felt a mixture of calm and exhaustion. You felt certainty. For the first time in a long while, you had the impression that you were standing firm on the ground, knowing exactly what you wanted. Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought, sighing heavily. You were making this so difficult.

“I know you’re not a hero,” you said quietly, returning to your place on the couch. “Zaun doesn’t need heroes. This city needs you, Silco. This is your life. Your fight. And I want to be a part of it.” Your words resonated in the silence, strong and certain. “I don’t want you to change for me. I want you as you are.”

He looked at you as if trying to read every smallest detail of your face, every intention behind your words. In return, you saw suffering and desire in him. Two very contradictory emotions that constantly fought for dominance.

Your words hung in the air. You could see him fighting with himself to accept them. You had no intention of helping him with that. He had to understand eventually that you weren’t going anywhere. There was no force in this world that could pull you away from him. For a moment, it seemed like the air in the room thickened. Silco leaned back slightly, his gaze still fixed on you. And then, with barely noticeable lifting of the corner of his mouth, he responded:

“You are infuriating.”

You smiled a little, realizing how absurd your conversations were. That phrase carried with it your past, feelings he couldn’t vocalize, but you knew.

God, you wanted certainty.

Why couldn’t you just settle this like adults, instead of stepping into the realm of ambiguous words, waiting for the other side to finally say something concrete? But could you have made it any clearer? Was it wrong that you wanted the same from him? You knew you had to watch his actions, not his words. The problem was, he gave you very contradictory signals. He touched you, showing that he wanted no one but you, only to withdraw as if regretting his gesture. You longed for him, more and more each day. You knew that only the last remnants of your willpower were holding you back. But you didn’t have the courage to get closer to him, not when he so quickly hid his feelings.

Your tired mind began to exaggerate and distort every sensation, every word. You got up, feeling that this day had achieved much, yet nothing had truly progressed. You wanted to rest, to momentarily forget what had happened, and allow yourself a bit of fantasy.

You took one step toward the door when you felt his hand on your arm. Your heart skipped a beat. You wanted to ask why he tormented you so, but he beat you to it, making your knees buckle beneath you.

“Stay with me,” he said softly, and the tone of his voice revealed something he normally wouldn’t allow himself to show. It wasn’t a request, but it didn’t sound like an order either. Somewhere in between.

You turned, looking at his hand firmly gripping your wrist. He had never held your hand like this before. You raised your head to observe him, waiting for something more. There was something almost painful in his gaze—like the words he had spoken hadn’t come easily. And yet, he had said them.

You took a breath, but didn’t let on how deeply it affected you. You knew that if you showed too much tenderness, he might interpret it as weakness. And Silco would never admit to weakness.

“I meant what I said before,” you replied calmly, though your voice was firm. “I’m staying.”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, but he said nothing. Slowly, he nodded—such a delicate gesture that you almost didn’t notice it. But it was enough. He loosened his grip, leaving a burning mark on your skin. The uncertainty in his eyes told you that the question wasn’t just about this evening.

With relief, you returned to your seat, knowing that returning to yourself in this state would be exceptionally difficult. A nap tempted you greatly, your head began to droop to the side as you struggled against the heaviness of your eyelids.

You sensed his presence before he even sat down. The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor, the barely audible rustle of fabric as he approached the couch, was enough. When he sat down, your body immediately sensed his proximity.

It wasn’t a meaningless gesture—he sat closer than ever before. Only a thin space remained between you, taut like a string but not oppressive. He didn’t look at you. He sat on the edge of the couch, slightly turned, setting documents on the table, but he seemed too distracted to engage with them at that moment. You could only see his back and the faint profile of his face when he glanced at you, as if to check if you were okay with this proximity.

There was something almost symbolic about this closeness, so unusual for him. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that just your presence meant something to him—more than perhaps he wanted to show.

You allowed yourself to lean back deeper into the backrest, your body slowly relaxing. This gesture, simple yet full of meaningful intimacy, was enough to signal that, although no words were exchanged, he had allowed you to get closer than anyone else.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling a mix of exhaustion and something else—a gentle warmth from this moment, which, despite everything, was hard to ignore. After a moment, quietly and without unnecessary emphasis, you spoke:

“I know you’re not saying everything... But you don’t have to. All I need is for you to be next to me.”

He froze for a split second. You felt his body tense briefly. You heard him try to control his breath to keep your words from showing how deeply they moved him.

He didn’t answer. But when he tilted his head slightly, and the angle of light in the room allowed you to glimpse part of his face, you noticed something in his gaze—something he hid as carefully as his thoughts. Hope.

You were already too tired to dwell on it. You closed your eyes, letting the weight of your eyelids soothe you, while the silence filled the remaining pieces of the conversation neither of you dared to finish.

Chapter Text

It would have been funny if it wasn’t about you.

Sometimes, you looked at people who gave in to the pressure of confrontation with pity. You thought about their lack of courage—what was so hard about it? Your hot-headedness and sharp tongue never stopped you from spitting out whatever was on your mind. You rolled your eyes thinking about how you would behave differently in their place.

Now you were in their place. So, where was your courage?

For a moment, you wondered if this was really an urgent matter, but you had delayed it for too long. The last time, you hadn’t managed to tell her the truth. You regretted not doing it then, when your determination was still strong enough. Now, the stinging guilt was winning. Once again, you had let yourself get so carried away that you forgot about the rest of the world. You shook your head, knowing there weren’t enough hours in the day to handle everything.

So, Lacey was awake...

She must have been asking about you—there was still the unresolved matter of her husband. It felt like so long ago, though it had only been a few days. With horror, you realized that Lacey would never be able to visit him after his death. Wherever Marcus had dumped his body remained a mystery. What a bitter and infuriating situation.

You climbed the stairs to the upper floor, fully aware that a confrontation awaited you, whether you wanted it or not. Lacey was your responsibility. You were the one who had pulled her out of prison and promised to bring her husband back to her. Now it was time to face her reaction.

You quickly registered another person sitting by Lacey’s door but didn’t pay him much attention. You reached for the handle and were surprised to find the door locked. You frowned, not expecting this.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, but I know it’s about you,” said the guard.

You glanced sideways. You had thought this man was asleep, but he had been alert enough to hear you, even though you moved with your usual quiet steps.

“Should I even ask?”

“Locked by the boss’s orders,” he yawned, pulling a key from his pocket. “Here, but think twice before you go in. It’s not a pretty sight.”

“Why? What’s wrong with her?” you asked, feeling fear creeping into the corners of your mind.

“Depends on how you look at it. She’s thrashing around, screaming, attacking whoever gets near. Keeps asking for you—did you do something to her?”

You let your shoulders drop, suddenly realizing the full weight of the responsibility you’d taken on in a moment of reckless heroism. You took the key from him without a word. Nothing you could say would make this better. You knew Lacey remembered you, but you hadn’t expected her psyche to be so fragile. This could be more difficult than you thought.

“I locked her in there,” you said coldly, almost hearing the guard tense beside you.

You entered the room, feeling your courage fly out the window. Lacey stood by the window, looking down at Zaun from above. Even in her plain, loose clothes, you could see how thin she was. She had wrapped her arms tightly around herself, making her shoulders look grotesquely bent, like the wings of a bird that couldn’t take flight. She seemed deeply lost in her own thoughts, her own world, because she didn’t hear you come in.

You noticed she was barefoot on the cold floor. Whatever was happening in her head had broken her. Strength of character was different for everyone. She had spent too much time in Stillwater. You suspected they hadn’t left her alone there. You feared Marcus had regularly used her as a bargaining chip to keep Zaryas in check. Pain is the most effective language in such cases.

And now, you were about to break her even more by telling her about her husband’s death.

It felt simply cruel.

“Lacey?” you asked cautiously, unsure how the woman would react.

She straightened at the sound of her name but didn’t turn to face you. You felt there was something hanging in the air, something you should have known before coming here, but it was too late for that now.

“I was wondering if you’d dare show up,” she said slowly, her voice resonating with a strange mix of emotions.

Something was wrong.

“Lacey? Is everything okay?”

Suddenly, the room was filled with horrible laughter, a sound that hurt your ears not just with its tone but with the sheer bitterness it carried. She turned toward you, and the look on her face sent chills down your spine. It was madness, insanity.

“Where is he?”

You flinched as though her words were a physical blow. Slowly, something began to dawn on you, but it was too early to grasp it fully. Something about her behavior felt off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

That tone… It wasn’t a question.

"Before I say anything, you should know I did everything I could, but—"

"I don’t care about your cheap excuses," she spat. "Where is my husband?"

She stood facing you, and between the two of you was a void. Something was growing, something gaining strength, and it would end tragically if you didn’t take control of the situation. Lacey wasn’t sad or frightened. No, beneath her madness, you saw anger. She knew. You had no idea how, but she already knew what had happened. Her words weren’t a question. She wanted to hear confirmation from you.

"Who told you?" you asked slowly, forcing a calm tone.

Those weren’t the best words. You knew they could be interpreted in many ways, but you wanted to know who had delivered the news to her. You wanted her to hear it from you, not someone who might twist the truth. Yet you couldn’t hide the small relief you felt, knowing you didn’t have to be the first to break it to her.

"You promised me," she hissed. "You promised you’d bring him back!"

Involuntarily, you stepped back, startled by the hostility in her voice. Many things didn’t add up, but dwelling on them was pointless. Not when Lacey looked seconds away from an attack.

Strangely, you didn’t feel guilt. It had taken you a long time to realize you weren’t responsible for Zarys’ death. Many things could have gone differently, but you hadn’t pulled the trigger. You felt many things for Lacey, but you weren’t about to let her walk all over you.

"Lacey, careful," you said firmly, aware of your physical advantage, which you didn’t want to use. "I didn’t promise you anything. I said I’d do what I could to bring him back."

You took two steps to the left, watching as Lacey slowly moved in an arc toward you. You felt your blood run cold. You’d been warned that Lacey had already attacked someone, but you hadn’t thought she’d dare to try it with you. Now, you weren’t so sure.

There was a bitter taste at the back of your throat, all from the realization that you’d misjudged her. Damn it, you didn’t even know her! It was stupid to feel attached to her pain.

"You bitch," she snarled venomously. "Because of you, my family is broken!"

Suddenly, she lunged at you. It wasn’t a calculated or precise move. It was a desperate attempt to punish you for her suffering. Fear mixed with anger as you jumped to the side, instinctively reaching for your knife. Your hand stopped halfway. You couldn’t—and wouldn’t—kill her. No matter how angry she was, you had no intention of attacking her.

She threw herself at you with her whole body, trying to knock you off your feet, but you were much faster. You watched her collapse to her knees, groaning in pain. Her arms trembled with effort, but it didn’t stop her. Only then did you notice the red marks around her fingernails. You wanted to look away. You knew those were wounds from fighting with herself. Lacey was seeking another pain to replace the one she was already enduring.

You stepped back two paces, raising your hands slightly.

"Calm down, and we’ll talk."

"I have nothing to say to you," she spat, her words filled with venom that made you feel sick.

You saw her crouch, poised to strike at the right moment, but you didn’t take your eyes off her. It hurt. Not her attack or her condition, but the fact that you’d come to her feeling obligated to give her answers. That was the only thing you could offer her. You wanted to give it to her, but wasn’t this just an attempt to soothe your own frayed nerves?

Lacey lunged at you again, taking advantage of your distraction. She panted heavily, trying with all her might to find a gap in your defense, but the training with Sevika had finally paid off. You regretted having to use it on her.

You felt her nails dig into your arm. Hissing in pain, you stepped back, shoving her away. You touched your arm, feeling the wet fabric of your shirt under your fingers. The torn skin burned, making it clear that Lacey wouldn’t stop until she succeeded.

She wavered, stumbling slightly. She was weak and unaccustomed to fighting, which made her easy to overpower. But you didn’t want to be forced into that. You felt your disgust growing—for her, for yourself, for everything.

"Take my advice: don’t move," you warned calmly. "Don’t make me use force."

Lacey laughed, but it didn’t stop her. She resumed her advance, this time trying to approach you from the right. Her bare feet slipped slightly on the floor, damp with her own sweat. She paid no attention to anything around her or to what was happening to her. She was at her breaking point, but her anger kept pushing her forward. This wasn’t just a fight for survival; in her eyes, you saw something more—a fury, a desperation, and a grief that hit you harder than any blow.

"What now? Are you going to kill me like you killed Zarys? Quietly, huh? That’s your whole tactic—deceit, betrayal. Typical for a low-life from the Undercity."

You stepped back, hurt by her words. Her voice was low and hoarse, her questions interrupted by shallow breaths. It all gave this an even more horrifying character. It was cruel, and she knew it. You feared you might have no choice, but the thought of striking her seemed simply cruel. You wanted to justify her actions, to blame her madness, but in her eyes, you saw a cold focus, as if she’d been waiting for you.

"I didn’t kill him," you retorted sharply. "Marcus killed him, not me."

"You’re the one who broke me out of prison!" she screamed, her voice betraying the depth of her rage toward you. "It’s your fault! You provoked him!"

You straightened. Lacey was voicing all the thoughts you’d carried after Zarys’ death. Hearing them from someone else made you see how absurd it was to blame yourself for his death. Now that you truly had blood on your hands, now that you’d seen life slip away from someone, you knew Zarys wasn’t your first victim. Lacey’s words were sharp, deliberate, and almost accurate—if they hadn’t been wrong.

She rushed at you again, but this time, you accepted her attack. Swiftly, you stepped to the left and grabbed her arm. She let out a muffled groan, surprised by your speed. You twisted her arm, and she howled in pain and shock. Gritting your teeth, you held on tightly. Lacey swung her free arm but couldn’t reach you.

"If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in prison, at the mercy of the guards," you said quietly, trying to keep your composure.

"Oh, maybe I should thank you, huh? For what? For killing my husband or for changing the cage I’m stuck in?"

For a moment, you loosened your grip, which she immediately took advantage of, darting to the other side of the room. You looked at her, pained and unsure of what to do. You hadn’t planned to imprison her. You’d brought her to the Last Drop seeking shelter for her. You didn’t know they’d keep her locked up, but looking at her current state, it was safer for everyone that way. The words you’d spoken to the man on the other side were the truth.

"Marcus has been looking for you all over the city," you pointed out, feeling irritation building within you. "As soon as you leave, he’ll lock you up again or kill you on the spot, is that what you want?"

“I want my husband back!”

She jumped at you, putting all her strength into it. Her movements were too chaotic—she tripped over a cabinet, and papers scattered on the floor. She didn’t pay attention to it. Her eyes were fixed only on you.

This had to end.

You grabbed her by the wrists, blocking her hands before she could scratch your eyes out. It was close enough for you to see how bloodshot her eyes were. You wished you could feel pity for her, but the emptiness was slowly replacing everything else.

"Zarys knew exactly what he was getting into when he agreed to work for Marcus," you said with a calmness that even surprised you. "You think after all this, he'd let you walk away? Don't be stupid."

The insult made her stop kicking for a moment. You thought it was over and that something had finally gotten through to her. Instead, she spat in your face. You pushed her away and wiped your sleeve across your face. You felt only coldness and the weight of the responsibility that had fallen on you at that moment. You wiped your face in disgust, knowing your misjudgment now had real consequences—consequences you had to deal with. Lacey lunged at you with all her force, but you reacted just in time. You raised your arm and swung. The blow wasn’t strong—you didn’t want to hurt her—but you had to stop her.

Lacey was knocked aside, but just a bit too late. Her nails managed to scratch your cheek, leaving a burning scrape. You opened your mouth to say something, but you couldn’t find the words, as anger and fear tore at your insides. You didn’t want to hurt her, but with every movement, the situation was slipping out of control.

"Lacey, stop! This won’t change anything!" you tried to reason with her, but her eyes blazed with fury.

She was no longer herself—there was pure desperation in her gaze, as if fighting you was her last way of regaining control over her life. When she lunged at you again, this time from a lower position, trying to trip you, you dodged quickly to the side and leaned down.

You grabbed her wrist mid-air, squeezing hard, and with your other hand, you pushed her shoulder, causing her to crash onto her knees with a groan. It wasn’t graceful, but it worked—you used her own momentum to make her lose her balance. Instead of giving up, Lacey fell into even greater fury. She wrenched her arm out of your grip and tried to reach you again, this time slashing at you with her nails like claws. At the last second, you tilted your head back, narrowly avoiding a scratch, but you felt the adrenaline rush through your body, spurring you into action.

"Lacey, calm down!" you shouted, grabbing her wrist tighter and pressing it to the floor. "Don’t make me hurt you!"

Her body arched in a desperate attempt to escape. She kicked at your thigh, but she was too weak to hit with any force. You seized the moment to shift your hand to her forearm and twisted her arm in a gentle but firm grip, pinning her to the ground. Her breathing quickened, and your heart pounded like a hammer.

"Enough!" you shouted, driving your knee into her back to pin her in place. "I won’t force you to fight, but if you don’t stop, I’ll have to stop you!"

Lacey started to thrash, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"It’s your fault! Everything, everything... you promised me!" she yelled, her voice cracking, turning into something between a sob and a scream.

The door to the room slammed open. A man on guard entered, weapon raised, ready for a fight.

"Don’t you dare," you snarled at him.

Lacey also saw him, which made her scream like an injured animal in a trap. It hurt your ears, but you couldn’t let her go. The man watched you, shocked, unsure of what to do in this situation.

"I warned you," he said quietly, peeking out into the hallway. "Handle this before the doctors arrive."

You nodded and returned your gaze to Lacey.

"I never promised everything would be fine!" you said sharply, feeling your hands start to sweat. "I promised I’d do everything I could. And I did! You have no idea what I went through to get you out of there!"

Lacey stopped for a moment, her heavy breaths echoing against the floor. Your knee was pressing into her back, and your hands were gripping her wrists.

"Get it off me..." she hissed, trying to break free, but you wouldn’t let her.

You couldn’t.

"I won’t let you go until you calm down," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady but firm.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep this up. Your heart screamed for you to let her go, but your instincts told you that if you did, she’d attack you again. Her body started to tremble, and when she looked at you, something changed in her. You no longer saw anger, but pure despair.

"Zarys... why?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

You weren’t sure if she was speaking to you or to herself. At that moment, holding her down, you felt emotions begin to push out the adrenaline. As her struggles began to weaken, something in you also broke. You realized she wasn’t fighting you—she was fighting herself, her own pain, the reality that had overwhelmed her. Unable to bear it any longer, you released her and slid down to the floor, feeling an immense fatigue.

Lacey, free from your grip, crawled to the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest and curled into a fetal position, hiding her head in her arms. You sat on the floor, battling your fury. You touched your cheek, wincing slightly. You should treat the wound before it gets infected, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her.

"They’re coming," the man warned as he entered the room to avoid blocking the way.

You lifted your head at his words, but before you could fully comprehend them, three people rushed into the room. You watched as they lifted Lacey to her feet and led her toward the bed. She had lost her anger and desperation somewhere, which was overwhelming. You could clearly see the evidence of what her fury had caused, and how she cut herself off from it within seconds. She was dangerous to her surroundings, but most of all to herself.

"Out," the doctor ordered without looking at you.

That was an order you followed gladly. There could be nothing more between you and Lacey. It was over. You had done everything you could, trying to make her understand that her life wouldn’t be the same, but she wasn’t in the right place mentally and emotionally to understand it. You saw your distorted reflection in her eyes. She wouldn’t change her mind about you, and trying to fix this could only make things worse. It hurt like hell, but you had to let go. Lacey shouldn’t see you again because you were a trigger for her bad memories. It was unclear if she’d ever get back on her feet. Still, you couldn’t leave the building. You stopped just outside her door and leaned against the wall, trying to quench the rising emotions. You were looking for a safe place to return to, but the pain in your shoulder reminded you that this wasn’t a nightmare.

"Are you holding up?"

You opened your eyes, seeing the man take his place against the wall.

“What does it matter to you?” he asked, a bit too harshly.

He laughed dryly and crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Good technique,” he said calmly. “I’ve heard about you. Sevika rarely trains anyone.”

You scoffed loudly, feeling the sheer absurdity of this conversation. You pushed off the wall and took a step before glancing over your shoulder.

“Even the best technique won’t stop what’s already begun,” you replied vaguely, not having the strength to explain the past between you and Lacey.

The rumor would spread like wildfire. Since you're already associated with Sevika's training, nothing would stop it from reaching the hospital. You knew it wouldn't go unnoticed, but you didn't want the label of a brute who uses force as a weapon.

But what choice did you have?

Physical wounds didn’t hurt as much as emotional ones. You didn’t regret pulling Lacey out of prison, but you had seriously misjudged your feelings and her character. What seemed like a good deed had little to do with altruism. From the beginning, you thought Lacey could be useful. If you had treated her that way from the start, you wouldn’t have gotten emotionally involved with what had happened to her.

Stillwater breaks people just by being there. When you saw Lacey in that environment, something inside you snapped. A heroic part of you awoke, one you hadn’t even suspected existed. You saw in her the image of the harm Marcus did to people. She was so defenseless and open when you led her that day to Last Drop. It didn’t even occur to you to wonder who Lacey really was. You were naïve, thinking you were doing the right thing, though deep down you knew your motives weren’t entirely good. The truth was brutal—you simply couldn’t bear the thought that you were using her condition for your own purposes. And yet, Lacey had nothing for you but fury.

It was foolish and naïve. Did you think Lacey would be grateful for your help? What a dumb idea! You growled to yourself as you walked down the street, ignoring the passersby. Just the night before, Silco had told you not to play the hero, because it would end tragically. You had sworn to yourself that you understood the cost of this fight, that Zaun didn’t need heroes, only people ready to act. And what did you do?

You still didn’t know why Lacey was so important to you. You were ashamed to admit, even to yourself, that you had been waiting for words of thanks from her. Maybe that was what tormented you—realizing you were slowly closing yourself off from ordinary kindness. When you saw Lacey in that state, you wanted to help her, to lessen your part in this tragedy, but you only made things worse. You threw yourself into the rescue like a hero, doing exactly what Silco had warned you against. But back then, you didn’t see it.

You regretted not having had that thought a few days ago. Lacey was from the upper city—she should’ve been your enemy, yet you stubbornly wanted to see something more in her. It was a painful misstep. Lacey didn’t even try to understand what had happened; she just jumped straight into accusations. You could blame yourself for Zarys's death, for everything that happened, but hearing those words from her lips was a different kind of pain.

You weren’t guilty. It was a tragic accident. The real blame lay with Marcus—he was the one who tore her family apart. He was the one who forced Lacey's father to work. He was the one who threw her into prison. And yet, somehow, the blame fell on you. Not because you did something wrong, but because you were from Zaun.

Her words were spoken in emotion, but you didn’t feel just anger. She really believed it. Her tone, her posture—all of it made it clear: she was convinced that your place was beneath hers. She attacked everyone at the hospital, and beneath the layers of anger, there was disgust. Fury tightened your stomach. You kicked a stone, watching it strike the wall, bounce back, and land in a puddle.
It hurt. More than you thought it would. You knew how Piltover viewed you, but now you felt it in your bones—more than ever before.

“Why the hell are we doing this?” you growled, directing the question into the emptiness ahead of you.

A woman looked back at you, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Marcus was a threat to the city. You were doing everything you could to stop him, even though his first attack was aimed at the upper city residents. Why not just let them die? What was the point in saving those who hated you? After all, you were supposed to stop playing the hero. So why all this? All the secrecy, the tricks, the complicated plans—all to save the lives of people who would never do the same for you.

What comforted you, though, was that Silco wanted to neutralize Marcus not out of altruism, but cold calculation—to avoid problems if someone tried to pin the poisoning on him. It was hard to believe that Silco had the well-being of Piltover residents in mind, but regardless of his motivations, you were saving them. You had no choice.

Of course, Marcus had a factory in Zaun. Wasn’t that convenient? He used the people from your city, knowing that the allure of quick profit was too tempting for many. He designed his plan so others would dirty their hands while he remained clean. Anger surged through your veins.

“Scheming bastard,” you muttered under your breath.

It annoyed you that Piltover saw you as criminals, traitors, people willing to do anything just to survive, while their sheriff—a coward who couldn’t face the consequences of his own greed—was the real culprit. You clenched your fists, feeling the anger swell inside you at all this injustice.

You made a huge mistake. You couldn’t admit it to anyone. You had to quickly suppress that bitterness and move on. There was no room for mistakes in Zaun, and this one could cost you your life. What Lacey turned out to be wasn’t anything new. It was your thoughts that were the problem. You had to forget about her and channel your anger into something concrete. Yet, the idea of throwing yourself into a whirlwind of tasks didn’t seem appealing now. Your cheek still ached from her attack. You knew you couldn’t stop the words when Sevika asked about it—she would definitely ask, seeing the reaction of the guard outside the hospital room.

You stopped for a moment. They saw everything, every step you took, every decision you made. It was terrifying how quickly they figured out what you had done. Sevika wasn’t happy when you dumped the responsibility for Lacey on her, and Silco hadn’t said anything about it. You hadn’t talked about it, but the disapproval was palpable. You expected Sevika’s dry “didn’t I tell you so.” Lacey was a good lesson for you. You were naïve to think it could be different.

You felt how your thoughts clashed with your emotions. You had to think, get everything in order in your head before you looked him in the eye. You didn’t want him to read into you what the fight with Lacey had left on you. You were afraid he might think it was too much for you or—worse—find insincerity in your words. No, after everything that happened between you, you couldn’t let him down. You saw something like hope in him. It seemed like he was beginning to believe there was a chance for something more between you. You couldn’t forgive yourself for ruining that.

That’s why you left the center, heading for the only place that could still calm you down. The tower didn’t belong to you, but you didn’t see a problem visiting it. It was a return to the pattern you had followed just a few months ago. You hadn’t completely cut yourself off from your past, which was comforting. You were afraid you were losing yourself in the face of the ego you had agreed to. This place was better when it didn’t belong to you—it should remain that way.

From the roof, you had a perfect view of both Piltover and Zaun. You hadn’t been here since the time when things started to change between you. You hoped that the spirit of that scene would help you find your way.

You weren’t lying when you said you understood him. It was something you’d been working on ever since you met him. He shattered the image you had of yourself from the first moment he helped you in a tough situation instead of throwing you out onto the streets. Everything he did mattered. He impressed you, but you didn’t want to be like him. You wanted to be by his side, a strong character on his team, someone who would contribute during the work for the city. You were starting to find your place in this. It gave you comfort and a sense of security, like a semblance of home that you hadn’t had for a long time. You knew your choices could be questioned, but you wouldn’t change them for anything. Not when you knew him so well.

Silco had earned his position in this place through strength, cunning, and ruthlessness. He knew when to act and when to let events unfold on their own. It was fascinating and terrifying. He had a plan or an answer for everything, and he seemed to see much more than you. What he was doing—the fight for Zaun—was a dirty game full of underhanded tactics, deceit, and death. He knew that people were afraid of him, and he used that to his advantage.

Some people despised him for flooding the city with shimmer, but you knew this reality too well to see it in black and white. It wasn’t that simple. The effects of shimmer were horrifying—you’d seen people destroyed by addiction, barely functioning in a world that had rejected them. But you’d also seen something else: people for whom shimmer had saved lives. It was used in hospitals to alleviate pain, heal wounds, and help rebuild bodies shattered by hard work and lack of access to real medicine.

You couldn’t forget what shimmer had done to you. The addiction that consumed you left you with little hope. This byproduct was like poison, spreading through your body. It seemed like there was no escape. And yet—you had found a cure. Another version of shimmer, properly modified, had saved your life. You had felt its destructive power firsthand and how it could be used to rebuild. Shimmer was a tool—it all depended on whose hands it was in.

Marcus and the others who saw shimmer only as a curse would never understand your point of view. To them, it was just a drug, something that needed to be destroyed at all costs. You saw more. In the right hands, shimmer could be a salvation. For Zaun, it was a hope for progress in medicine, for survival in a world that had forgotten about you. But who, other than you, could see these nuances? No one understood how thin the line was between its uses. You were alone in this fight, and your theories sounded to others like justifying Silco’s actions.

“It’s his fault,” you heard over and over. It was easy to blame Silco. Easier than admitting that Piltover had never invested in the lower city, that it was them who had driven people to the point where shimmer had become their last hope. Was Silco responsible for every person who reached for it? No, it was an individual’s choice. And yes, you agreed that shimmer was part of the problem, but it was also part of the solution. You were bending the boundaries of morality to achieve something that would give future generations a better life.

Everyone warned you about Silco. Even he did. Not long ago, you wondered whether you were capable of acting in this zone of gray morality. It was hard—living with the knowledge that when people learned you were working for Silco, they would see you as crazy, or worse—a monster. But you could understand that. You didn’t care about their opinions, because now you truly believed that Zaun deserved independence. And if achieving that meant getting your hands dirty, you were ready for it. Not just for him. For all of you.

You had a plan.

You knew Marcus wouldn’t stop and would do whatever it took to catch Silco. You were afraid his next target wouldn’t be Piltover but Zaun directly. The upper city didn’t need much reason to hate you, so they’d accept any solution. Marcus wouldn’t stop the production of the half-product—you were certain of that. He wouldn’t give up such a powerful weapon. If he attacked your people with it, all of Zaun would turn against Silco and hand him over. This vision was even more terrifying than the previous one, especially since the threat was real.

And you had the beginning of an answer in your room.

Silco’s chemists were capable, and creating a safe version shouldn’t be difficult with the creator’s notes in hand. And now that Silco had a frightening amount of half-product, their research could begin. If anything were to happen in Zaun, the council wouldn’t lift a finger, pushing it aside as gang violence. Too many people would suffer for Zaun to ever recover.

You had thought about this drug before, but you hadn’t seen how important it would become.

“Damn you, Zarys,” you whispered quietly, feeling as if you could sense the chemist’s urging gaze on you.

You couldn’t sit and pity yourself. Lacey was a mistake, and you wouldn’t do that again. Piltover didn’t even deserve one kind word from you. Now, it was about the people beside you. They were the ones you could help.

***

It was interesting to return to yourself with a completely different mindset. The problem was, halfway there, you remembered that Sevika was looking for you. Panic hit like a thunderclap. She wouldn’t let you go without unloading everything that was on her chest. You didn’t have much time; you had to act here and now — beat Marcus to the punch before he started planning.

Well, it wasn’t the first time, and probably not the last time you’d sneak into your own room. You’d face Sevika’s wrath once you calmed down, knowing the research was ongoing. You wrestled with your thoughts, looking at the building from a distance. You shouldn’t have ignored her like that — you respected her too much to do something like that. But on the other hand, she might’ve given you some task that would’ve required time and focus, making it impossible for you to meet with the scientists.

You knew the cracks in the wall better than your own pocket. You had the feeling that months had passed since the last time you’d entered like this. Coming back to it was surprisingly comforting. You hadn’t lost your touch — you were upstairs in less than a minute. Confident, you grabbed the string you’d installed yourself to make it easier to open the window from the outside. The wings creaked a bit, but in the sounds of the city, that detail was lost. You threw your backpack inside and pulled yourself higher, searching for a better foothold for your legs.

Suddenly, from the darkness, a hand shot out. It grabbed you by the collar and pulled you inside as if you weighed nothing. You screamed in terror, thrashing in all directions, but the attacker was unyielding. Suspended in the air, a second later, you landed painfully on the floor, hitting your back. You reached for the knife on your thigh, but your hand was immediately pressed to the ground by a knee. The figure blocked the window, so you couldn’t see who had attacked you. The room was poorly lit anyway, and its northern-facing position didn’t help.

You thought it was the end when something suddenly gleamed in the light. Your heart was still racing, but now you recognized the attacker.

"I know you have your reasons, but for fuck’s sake, do you have to attack me like this every time?" you snarled angrily, struggling to catch your breath.

"Only when you stop acting like an idiot," she replied dryly, getting off you. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"What?" you stammered, getting on your knees.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble your disappearance caused me?" She was furious; it was evident from the first glance. No one would save you now.

You cursed yourself for not just walking in like a normal person. There were no witnesses, so even if she beats you, no one would believe you didn’t deserve it. Because you did.

"Well, I know that much," you started to explain in a flurry. "Look, I didn’t know the patrol would react like that. The guard was weird when he walked away, but I didn’t think he’d report so quickly!"

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by your terrified breathing and her furious panting. You saw something on her face that resembled confusion, as if you’d brought up a topic she had no clue about.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don’t give a shit about the patrol!" she spat loudly. "That was stupid, irresponsible, and I should take you off all assignments after you fucked up."

"Sevika, I understand—"

"Understand shit!" she interrupted you sharply. "I had to go to Silco and tell him that the person he’s obsessed with ran off from the scene, pulling the patrol away. You think I like taking his wrath on myself?! Where the hell have you been all this time?!"

You listened to her monologue, in which every other word was a curse. You were sure she was looking for you due to problems on the bridge. But was that really what she was angry about? That you disappeared? You thought she already knew you were back. After all, half the customers at the Last Drop and people at the hospital saw you. Didn’t anyone tell her? Were they afraid to approach, seeing how furious she was?

"Wait, what?" you finally squeezed out.

Sevika stepped away from the window, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with trembling hands.

"Are you that blind, or are you just pretending?" she asked quietly, trying to regain control over herself. "I told you, if something happened to you and I had to deal with his moods, I’d find you even at the end of the world. I searched the whole city for you. Do you know when Silco is the scariest? When, fucking, he’s silent. He didn’t say a word when I gave him the report. He only asked about you once. Once. He looked like he wanted to kill someone when I told him what you did," she fell silent, trying to calm the tremor in her voice with another drag. "Of course, the responsibility for you fell on me. Fuck... I thought I was going to lose it when no one saw you around."

This was... different. Sevika, exhausted, slumped into a chair, leaning heavily forward. When you saw her like this, guilt hit you twice as hard.

"I know it’s my fault."

"Of course, it’s fucking your fault!" she exploded, raising her voice. "I don’t know what the hell you did to him, but without you, he told me not to come back. Me, you understand? I should be pissed at you, but all I feel is relief that you finally decided to show up," she sighed, then suddenly stood up and moved toward you. "Now you’ll go to him and explain yourself. You’re going to take all the blame. If I go there and find out you didn’t solve the problem, I swear to God..."

"I’ve already been to him!" you interrupted her quickly, before she could wind herself up even more.

"What?!" Her voice was sharper than before, and you could see the tension written all over her face.

"Where do you think I spent the night?" you rolled your eyes but quickly got embarrassed when you saw her raised eyebrows. "Not like that! I just... slept," you finished quietly, not wanting to dig yourself in deeper. "I thought you knew. They saw me at the Last Drop, and then at the hospital..."

You didn’t finish because Sevika suddenly changed her expression. She stepped back, but didn’t take her eyes off you, as though she was afraid you'd disappear the moment she turned away.

"I’ll talk to them," she said slowly through gritted teeth.

You didn’t know what was off about her behavior until her last words. Her anger had justification, but not where you thought it did. If she was only mad at you for causing problems with Silco, she wouldn’t have tried to explain herself — she would’ve just dragged you to him like a sack of potatoes. She felt relief when you returned... that should have made you uncomfortable or surprised, but instead, you felt guilty. Again. You were starting to believe that trouble followed you, no matter how much you wanted to get rid of it.

She cared about you.

That thought hit you suddenly as you watched her go back to her place at the table, even though the panic had passed. It was almost as if she needed some form of contact with you because you understood her fears. Whatever dynamic had developed between the three of you, you felt responsible for those bursts of anger. Sevika shouldn’t have been exposed to them just because you and Silco hadn’t settled things between you. But you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t give you at least a little bit of satisfaction.

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts when your gaze fell on the notebooks behind Sevika. This couldn’t wait.

“What guard? What was going on with him?” she asked unexpectedly.

“What? Oh, right,” you mumbled, startled. “They caught up with me halfway to the cemetery. I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged him down the cliff with me.” You grimaced at the memory of that incident. “I thought I was done for, but instead of arresting me, one of them ignored me and preferred to take his partner.”

Sevika waved her hand dismissively, as if deeming the whole situation not worth further discussion.

“I expected more excitement, but maybe it’s for the best,” she sighed, leaning more comfortably against the table. “As for the mission—we had a little problem on the bridge. Some overzealous guy showed up, but a nice round sum shut him up.”

You nodded, surprised at how calmly she was recounting the situation, even though just moments ago she had been seething with anger. Her current tone seemed almost indifferent, but you knew Sevika well—this was the calm before the storm. People preferred to keep their distance from her, and you didn’t blame them. Right now, she was like a ticking time bomb.

“As for your problem, I took care of it,” she added suddenly, in that cold, impassive tone of hers.

You flinched, hearing her speak so impersonally about the woman you had killed. Showing any emotion would be a weakness, though. How should you react? Thank her for disposing of the body? That would be grotesque, even repulsive. But the truth was, she had helped you—she did everything to prevent the problem from escalating. You could feel her scrutinizing gaze, as if she was analyzing every reaction, looking for a crack in your fragile character. You felt your new identity beginning to waver under the weight of all this. You needed to process the situation quickly to maintain your position.

“This is your first time, right?” she suddenly asked, her tone calm.

You looked at her questioningly, backing up slightly when you saw the seriousness in her eyes. Instead of the nervous laughter that naturally wanted to escape your lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to be insincere. Why pretend to be stronger than you were?

“Yes,” you answered after a moment, surprisingly calm.

You weren’t ashamed of it, but you weren’t proud either. It was a miracle that you had survived in Zaun for so many years without having to kill anyone. A grim necessity, nothing more. It was naive to believe you could avoid it forever—not working for him. Everyone warned that it was a path to perdition, to losing your humanity. You knew that, and you feared it. But you could just as easily stop pretending that this part of your life didn’t exist.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered. “Alright, let’s go.”

Before you could react, she quickly stood up, adjusting her cloak. You watched in surprise as she reached for the door handle, clearly confident that you would follow her. Your gaze fell on the notebooks, feeling torn inside. Sevika wasn’t in the mood for arguments, and after everything she’d been through because of you, you felt like you owed her. But at the same time, you knew there wouldn’t be another opportunity to talk to Rey anytime soon.

“I’d love to, but I…” you began, trying to find an excuse.

“You’ve got something else to do?” she cut you off sharply, her tone one that didn’t tolerate refusal.

You fell silent, frightened. You shook your head and obediently followed her, casting a longing glance at the notes. You had no idea what plans she had for you, but you certainly weren’t in a position to question her.

It was all the more surprising when you both went down the same path you had taken every day for the past few weeks. Why was she heading to the training room? You hoped she didn’t need a change of scenery to take out her frustrations on you again. What do you call a moment when you willingly follow someone who sees no problem with using violence against you? Masochism, or just a death wish?

The training area was occupied by a group of people. When they saw you, they dispersed within seconds, not waiting for any order from her. It must have been an interesting feeling, to control people with just a glance. But that meant no witnesses. You hesitated for a moment before entering, but Sevika would have dragged you in if you made her. Maybe if you complied, it would hurt less.

Sevika walked over to a wall lined with several cabinets and started looking for something. You watched her with mild curiosity, relieved that she didn’t immediately attack you when the door closed behind you.

“I should have noticed this earlier, but there are always so many problems around you,” she began, not stopping her search. “I thought you were refusing to take a gun from me because you preferred knives or something. But when you turned pale after killing that woman, I realized you’d never shot anyone. Let alone killed someone.” She suddenly pulled something from the cabinet that looked like a mannequin on a stand with wheels and dragged it closer to you. “Well, there’s no better time to fix that mistake.”

“Sevika, what are you scheming?”

She rested her hands on the mannequin’s shoulders and pushed it even closer.

“There are several places on a human body that guarantee a quick death. We’ll start with the head, then…”

You sucked in a breath in horror when you realized what she meant.

“Are you crazy?” you snarled. “Why are you showing me this?”

It was disgusting. Inappropriate and entirely wrong. You took two steps back, unable to bear the calmness on her face. It was sick.

“What did you think? That I’m showing you how to shoot and throw knives because we’ll win the fight for Zaun by aiming at targets?” she mocked, genuinely amused. “I told you that you needed a shock, but of course, you knew better. I didn’t think the circumstances would force you into this so quickly, but it’s actually better this way.”

“And what? You think this is a good idea?” you asked, pointing at the mannequin’s likeness.

Sevika stepped away from the mannequin and measured you with her gaze. She didn’t say anything, but you knew she was evaluating you. You had reacted emotionally, but what else could you have done? Abandon them and go back to normal life? It had been barely a day since her death. You didn’t intend to mourn her, but damn, wasn’t this cruel?

Sevika looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether she should continue. Finally, she spoke in a calm, cold tone:

“We’re not monsters. Killing is the last resort, but this is about your life or theirs. Sooner or later, someone will aim at you. The only thing you can give them is a quick death.”

Those words threw you off balance. They seemed both simple and brutally logical. You looked at Sevika, not knowing what to say. She was right—it was inevitable, and your pretending that you would never have to do this again was a lie you were telling yourself.

You sighed heavily, not taking your eyes off the mannequin. It still felt repulsive, but you couldn’t take back your words.

“So what do I do?” you asked, admitting your ignorance.

Sevika took a marker from her pocket and stepped closer. She quickly marked the key points on the mannequin: head, neck, chest.

"Aim here if you have to. Head is the first choice. Neck—bleeding is fast and inevitable. Chest—heart or lungs. No half-measures, no warnings. You want this to be clean and quick. Do you understand?"

Her voice was calm, almost mentoring, but the weight of her words pressed on you more and more. You nodded, feeling something inside you crack—a barrier that had kept you convinced you were better than this place. In front of your eyes, you saw the moment the woman fell. There was nothing pure about it—she died in pain and panic. You clenched your lips, knowing it was pointless to go back to that moment. You wouldn’t bring her back with your thoughts. Sevika noticed the change in your gaze.

"Alright. Try," she said, stepping away from the mannequin.

You took a deep breath. You weren’t in a prepared training room. It was raw and impulsive. Any moment someone could walk in, and the sound of gunshots carried far. But in the real world, there would never be perfect conditions.

Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed the gun she had handed you. You forced yourself to raise it and aim. For a moment, you saw the face of that woman again, but you quickly pushed it from your mind. You had to focus. You pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot filled the room. Sevika stepped closer to assess your work. She looked at the hit, then at you, nodding approvingly.

"Not bad. You learn quickly. Next."

You felt a strange sting of satisfaction. For the first time, Sevika wasn’t looking at you with superiority, but with recognition. Maybe even a bit of pride. You took a deep breath and took another shot. The sponge exploded in all directions as the bullet missed the target, piercing the mannequin below the point you aimed at. If it had been a person, they would have been bleeding out from a hole in their stomach. You felt nauseous but stood firm, legs spread, feeling your sweaty hands weakening on the grip.

Sevika grabbed your elbow and gently guided your hands.

"Focus," she whispered. "A little higher."

You nervously nodded and forced yourself to focus on the target. Calm didn’t come, so you shot instinctively. The bullet embedded softly into the dummy, causing minimal damage. You sighed in relief but quickly reprimanded yourself in your thoughts. Why did that calm you? After all, it was just a mannequin.

You were done.

Sevika was throwing you into the deep end, trusting you would manage, or worse, testing you to see how long you’d last before breaking. You lowered the gun, giving her a clear signal that it was over.

"Are you satisfied?" you asked dryly, handing her the gun.

"No," she replied, ignoring your attempts to return the pistol. "And you shouldn’t be either. Killing is nothing pleasant, and if it gives you satisfaction, you’re no different from the ones we fight," she said calmly, throwing you off track.

You wanted to scoff, to react in some way, but deep down, you knew she was right. Your heart hadn’t reconciled with it yet, but your mind was starting to understand.

"I’m not like you," you said suddenly, feeling how those words lifted a strange weight off your shoulders.

Sevika raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem surprised.

"Good," she answered seriously. "You’re not supposed to be me. You’re supposed to be yourself."

That statement was simple, as if said by a child, but it carried something you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to be beside her, but life didn’t give you time to accept one change before throwing you into the deep end of the next.The gun felt like it weighed a ton in your hands, yet its weight was strangely comforting.

"People like us are needed because Silco can’t fight on all fronts at once," she added, seeing you struggling with yourself.

You lifted your head, knowing how many meanings this statement carried. Sevika was showing you that she accepted you. That was... nice. Something warm spread inside you, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Your throat tightened slightly, afraid that you were weakening and that emotion would take over. You cleared your throat quickly, knowing you had to change the subject before you ventured into areas you weren’t ready to talk about.

"I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but I don’t know if this is the weapon for me," you said calmly, handing her the pistol again.

This time she took it from you, but instead of putting it away, she reached behind herself and handed you another one. For a moment, you thought it was a sign to continue the training, but it was something more. At the sight of it, your breath faltered, and your fingers hovered in the air. You didn’t hesitate to look at Sevika, but you hesitated before touching the gun.

It was that gun. The same one you had used to shoot that woman.

"I’m not making you hold it," Sevika said coldly, watching your reaction. "But it’s just a tool, nothing more. It doesn’t define you, unless you let it. You decide who you are."

Her words cut through your hesitation like a blade. You swallowed and raised your hand to take the gun. Its weight in your hand seemed bigger than it should have been.

You looked at it in shock, and Sevika, seeing your reaction, gave you a crooked smile.

"You’re one of us now, and that means Silco’s enemies are now your enemies too," she said, pressing the gun into your hand with suggestion. "Don’t pity yourself. It’s a tool to help you defend our plans."

You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t find the words. Thanking her seemed inappropriate, and apologizing would be pointless. Sevika watched you closely, as if trying to assess whether you’d survive all of this.

"Sevika, I..." you began uncertainly.

She raised an eyebrow and interrupted you in a cold, bitter tone:

"Not everyone is strong enough to get back up every time they’re hit."

"Do you think I am?" you asked, turning the gun in your hands, watching the play of light on the metal parts.

Sevika shrugged.

"You’re the first person who’s pushing into a relationship with Silco. Tell me yourself," she said loosely, then fell silent for a moment, as if wondering whether she should add this, but ultimately didn’t keep it to herself. "I thought Silco would break you, but it turns out you’re tougher than I thought. With him, either you die, or you get tougher. You made the right choice."

It wasn’t a direct compliment, but the tone of her voice expressed more than you’d ever expected. You nodded slightly, not wanting to reveal how much those words meant to you.

Sevika pointed to the gun in your hand. When the weapon rested in your palm, its weight felt heavier than it actually was.

"It’s not meant to burden you," she added. "It’s supposed to remind you of what’s important. And who you are."

You looked at the gun, then at Sevika. There was no pity in her eyes, only a firm belief that you were strong enough to walk this path.

"Don’t waste this," she said, turning to leave.

You stood alone for a moment in the silence, staring at the gun, as thoughts slowly began to overwhelm you. You were filled with a mix of sadness, anger, and the bitter realization that you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to this.

You tightened your fingers around the gun, as if it could give you the confidence you were so lacking. The image of your mother appeared in your mind—her face, her voice, then the long silence that had been your everyday life for years. For a moment, you felt like a child again, searching for her presence in every dark alley.

You lowered your gaze, feeling the weight in your heart.

"See?" you whispered almost soundlessly. "I found a home without you."

But those words didn’t bring you relief.

Chapter Text

It would have been easier to be angry at her for that cold demonstration of how to kill than to understand what lay behind it. But when you finally grasped it, that awareness overwhelmed you to the point that you forgot your own plans. Sevika had left you alone in that room, in shock, but with a strange feeling... comfort? It was unexpected. Only when you felt it did you realize how much you had needed it.

You returned to the room, unable to focus on anything, distracted by her words. Zarys’s notes lay on the table, almost staring at you expectantly, as if they were begging you to take them and finally put them to use. In a strange way, you couldn’t bear their sight. You had a plan and you should have made a move before doubts ruined your progress, but your body seemed frozen. “You belong to them”—those words resonated in your head like a hammer strike, vibrating in your bones and refusing to be drowned out.

You nervously walked around the room, your movements chaotic. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were losing your footing. You shook your head, knowing you had to return to what you knew before taking another step. You ran your hand along the windowsill, then climbed up to the window. Gripping the frame, you felt the wood differently under your fingers—as if the entire reality had changed its texture. You furrowed your brow, sensing that what was happening inside you was pulling you too far away from what you had known.

You stepped out onto the roof, searching for solace. It always helped, right? To let the wind brush your face, slip under your clothes, and carry away the unnecessary. You sat on the slightly damp ground, focusing your gaze on the horizon. The wind tried to clear the chaos from your mind, but this time it didn’t work. It was supposed to be your ally, but it couldn’t bear the weight of your fears. If it always helped, then why not now?

“You’re one of us.”

Those words hit you over and over again. You collapsed onto your back, feeling the weight of them, as if they were keeping you from getting up. You should have felt terror at the responsibility placed on you—after all, “Silco’s enemies are now your enemies.” But all you felt was peace. The comfort you had forgotten about for years. The more that feeling settled inside you, the more a greedy need for more began to grow. Wasn’t that absurd? You weren’t in a position to demand anything from them.

You sighed heavily and propped yourself up on your elbows. Your gaze wandered across the sky, but your thoughts refused to calm. Finally, you sat up suddenly and shook your head, frustrated with yourself. You couldn’t keep wallowing in place, pitying yourself. If Sevika said you were one of them, it had to mean something. These weren’t just empty words—you knew she wouldn’t have said them without a reason.

You climbed down from the roof and returned to the room. Taking the notes now felt almost like a heroic effort—as if what lay on the table weighed more than it should. You put them in your backpack, feeling that their weight was not just paper, but your responsibility.

Your room sharply separated you from reality, so when you stepped out and saw the faces of people, it felt like you were seeing them anew. It was irritating; you didn’t like such changes. It seemed like their gazes burned a hole in your back, as if they knew exactly what you were planning. Yet, you didn’t know whether those eyes were full of approval or disappointment at your latest decision.

But no one stopped you. You were one of them—they had no reason to.

The quiet, damp streets of Zaun wrapped you in a heavy atmosphere, but in your head, there was even more chaos. Damn Zarys... That man still haunted you, even after his death. It was as if you had bound yourself to him forever through that damn drug. You remembered the way to the laboratory. You didn’t know the scientists' working hours, but sitting locked in your room with your thoughts, you would have gone crazy waiting for the next day. No, this couldn’t wait—not just because of your mental state.

Not long ago, you saw yourself as an anonymous element in Silco’s plans. Someone who hid in the shadows, doing their job. When you started working for him, you were immediately thrown into the deep end. You had only gotten close to him by accident—only because you allowed yourself to indulge and thought a drink was a good reward for finding that cursed trophy. If you had gone back to yourself the way you should have, you would have just been a cog—a small, insignificant element in the machine Silco drove. But that no longer mattered.

Sevika’s words had changed something in you. She showed you that they had seen you, noticed you. They were criminals, people living outside the law. They probably didn’t even know what this game was really about, but they still participated for the money, the adrenaline, or the prestige. People who were hard to impress because of the number of crimes they had committed. And yet, you found your place among them. Only back then, you were anonymous. They saw who you were and what you were capable of—they accepted you, just as you accepted them. You weren’t anonymous anymore. You were one of them. You belonged to them. And yet, you still felt that you didn’t deserve that place.

Time and again, they had given you chances. It would have been easy to get rid of you when you were in the throes of addiction. Who would want to deal with another junkie? And yet Silco had kept you. Sevika had given you a chance. You did everything you could to not mess it up, but of course, not everything went according to plan—sometimes, it was because of you.

Now, you had more space in your mind. You saw your sins. You noticed how reckless you had been back then. Addicted, broken, unpredictable. You had nothing to offer except a pair of hands and the desperation that pushed you forward. And yet, Silco had never turned away from you.

Why?

Did he see something more in you from the very beginning? His words from that night, right after that absurd gift, sometimes returned to you. “I don’t want you to leave.” They still sounded as incredible as ever. The thought that he was the first to see your worth was intoxicating, almost addictive. And yet, you knew it was unlikely. Maybe it was just instinct. He wanted to keep you, but didn’t know why? Silco didn’t seem like the type to not know what he wanted. But recently, it had been happening more often, so you weren’t so sure. Maybe back then, he saw you as just a tool to solve a problem.

Or maybe not.

A few weeks ago, everything was simpler. If things had gone differently, you might have never entered this business. God… how foolish you had been back then. You thought you knew better than him. Maybe you should apologize for that? Now you saw that every step he took, every word he said, was part of a bigger puzzle. Was that why he kept you? Did he know that one day you would see more and understand?

You were a problem. You were addicted, broken, unbearable. If you were in his place, you probably would have given up. And yet, Silco hadn’t. He hadn’t turned his back on you, even though he had every right to.

You didn’t know. Maybe you’d never find out. But now, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that thanks to him, you started to see more. That he gave you the time to find your place—even if at first, you would have thrown yourself out.

The road to the abandoned building seemed different as the day slowly ended. You hoped you would meet Rey.

You needed a familiar face, someone who knew the problem and could look at it differently. Because right now, you sounded like someone still addicted, trying to justify shimmer at any cost.

Your thoughts focused on the variant. Its potential, what it could mean for the people here—people like you. A new variant, a better variant, was the answer to your problem. It could change everything. Not for you anymore, but for others. Pulling someone out of that trap, giving them a second chance—this was what gave meaning to your presence here.

Because right now, you felt like nothing more than an obstacle.

Sevika would most likely have ignored the topic, and Silco would have approached it very carefully. Each method had its pros, but only you knew the pain caused by the intermediate product. You had gone through that hell. You knew addiction, humiliation, helplessness. You knew what it was to hit rock bottom and desperately search for salvation.

“Happy?” you asked the space in front of you, turning into a dark alley. “You won’t let go of me until I finish your research, will you?”

To think what Zarys could have done if he worked for you...

You entered with relief, noticing the lack of changes and the open doors. The room on the ground floor had been tidied up, but the scent of earth still lingered in the air. The last time, it was the smell of shimmer that had stopped you. You felt more confident descending the stairs, knowing what to expect, but you froze on the last step, surprised by the number of voices echoing below.

It was good that they were still working, but why was it suddenly so crowded?

When you entered, no one paid attention to you. At first, what you thought was chaos turned out to be a well-organized plan in its own way. You saw people running past each other, each busy with something—talking, taking notes, or handling samples. Everywhere you saw flashes of purple, which made your stomach tighten. Although it was more of a fear caused by memories than the real fear that it still had an effect on you. Suddenly, you felt like an uninvited guest who was showing up with a strange proposal. But if not now, then when? When people on the streets start dying?

You didn’t see him, didn’t know where to look. Stopping people didn’t seem like a good idea. Walking among them didn’t either. But standing still wouldn’t get you far. You were looking for a gap to slip through when suddenly someone touched your shoulder. You jumped, startled, instinctively reaching for your knife.

Rey stood next to you, looking expectantly, as if he was expecting important news from you. There was something strange in his excitement—like the work on the drug was awakening a childlike fascination with science in him. Well, people are driven by different things...

“Oh, I remember you!” he greeted you with more enthusiasm than before. “Did you come for the research?”

No wonder he was so happy—Silco wasn’t hovering over him, watching his every move.

“What? No... Listen…” you started, slightly confused, but he interrupted you, digging through a stack of papers he had under his arm.

“I’ve got something you’ll like.” he said in a tone as if he was revealing a big secret, then turned on his heel and moved ahead.

You spread your arms out, then—resigned—followed him. You put your hands in your pockets and tried to maneuver through the people. Unfortunately, you kept getting in someone’s way, receiving irritated glances. Rey, however, moved between his coworkers with grace, as if they were invisible to him.

Finally, you turned into a narrow, little-used hallway, where it finally became quieter.

“Quite a few of you here today,” you remarked, trying to catch your breath.

Rey glanced over his shoulder and smiled slightly. Yes, he was clearly pleased.

“You noticed?” he asked but didn’t wait for a reply. “Finally, we got a mission. I was getting worried they were going to shut down our department.”

“Shut down? Why?” you asked, surprised.

He sighed, stopping in front of a door. It looked familiar, but it wasn’t the room where your tests were done. He reached for the handle but hesitated, as if unsure whether he should say more. Finally, he confessed:

“We’re testing shimmer. Since it’s in its ‘final’ form, there’s not much to work on. We’re creating some boosters, but it’s not work for this many people.”

“I see,” you responded cautiously, having no idea where this conversation was headed. Rey seemed friendly, but his obsession with shimmer was at times... unsettling.

He opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it ajar, as if waiting for you to join him. Inside, there was a lonely desk and a wooden bench against the wall. The furniture looked worn, and a thin layer of dust on the floor suggested that this room wasn’t visited often. Rey threw the papers onto the desk, as if emphasizing that it was time to get down to business.

“We’ve got a serious task now,” he continued with unwavering enthusiasm. “The boss had to bring in extra people to speed up the work.”

“I should ask if it’s better I don’t?” you said with a slight amusement.

“Probably, you already know more than most of us,” he shrugged. “We’re looking for a way to neutralize this new shimmer variant. It’s resistant to most of our methods. But listen, that’s not all. I think I’ve got the answer to your question about mutations.”

You inhaled sharply.

“What? How? I haven’t had any tests,” you replied, trying to gather your thoughts.

Rey sat on the edge of the desk and pointed to the chair next to him. You sighed, feeling that this would be a heavy conversation. You sat down resignedly, knowing there was no point in trying to move to your own topic while he was stuck in his world.

“It turns out you don’t need tests. We’ve got some of your blood left from previous tests. Something was bothering me…” as he said this, he pulled a document from the very bottom of the stack. “Now that we have the intermediate product, I could run further tests on your sample. But listen—you're not going to like this.”

“I’ve survived worse than bad test results. Spit it out.”

Rey fell silent for a moment. You could tell he was hesitating, as if wondering if he should really say it.

“You did it to yourself,” he finally spat out.

The words reached you slowly, as if they had to cut through a thick fog of disbelief.

“What?” you croaked, unsure if you had heard correctly.

“Shimmer mutated in you because you let it,” he explained, looking at you with deadly seriousness.

You nervously snorted, then jumped to your feet.

“What? How the hell was I supposed to do that?”

"I'm getting to that," he replied calmly, as if your reaction was perfectly natural. "The half-product is pure poison. It kills slowly and painfully. But it’s still shimmer – something that both kills and heals at the same time. When you took it in small doses, your body tried to regenerate, but instead, it created mutated cells."

His explanation was barely understandable to you. You were listening, but it all seemed so abstract that you couldn’t interrupt him. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Wait," you started slowly. "If I understand correctly, I was taking these doses too infrequently to kill me, but often enough to cause mutations?"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "But this variant doesn't work like shimmer. We know that with large amounts, physical changes occur. You've definitely seen the effects of overdosing on the streets. That’s what we expected, maybe even worse things. But not the kinds of changes that occurred in you. No one suspected that the mutation would target the senses."

"I’m getting lost in this," you groaned, barely processing the new information.

Rey cleared his throat and adjusted in his chair as if preparing for another explanation. He had that characteristic sparkle in his eye – you recognized it immediately. For him, this conversation was like another exciting lecture, and your situation was just an interesting case to analyze. He was the type to talk about his passion for hours. This time, his passion was shimmer – and you were his "case."

"I can’t blame you for being confused," he said in a softer tone, as if trying to reassure you. "It’s all complicated. Without the drug, you would have died. Each dose extended your time, but it led to irreversible changes. The mutations might never have occurred if you'd taken smaller amounts, but then shimmer would have killed you faster. And you were lucky that you got your hands on this last variant."

You knew that this "luck" wasn’t really yours. Everything had happened by chance, and yet, here you were, alive. The memory of those days when you were teetering on the edge sent a cold shiver through you. You were beginning to realize how close you had been to death.

Slowly, you sat down, trying to bear the weight of it. Memories came flooding back, and one hit harder than the others: Silco knew. He was fully aware of your condition. That’s why your earlier words about coming to terms with death triggered such a reaction from him. You thought about his anger – now you understood that it was frustration, maybe even fear. Only now could you imagine his distress.

"Thanks… I guess," you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

However, Rey didn't seem to notice. He kept speaking, absorbed in his thoughts.

"It’s fascinating," he added with a gleam in his eye. "If I could take another sample from you, maybe I'd learn more. It’s a unique opportunity. We’ve never tested this on humans before. This new variant..."

You nervously laughed, seeing how obsessively he was staring at you – or rather, at what your blood might contain. He looked more like a scientist than a person. His gaze was unsettling, even predatory. It made your skin crawl.

"I don’t know whether I should admire you or be scared when you talk about it with such passion, as if it were the best puzzle of your life," you said with a forced smile, trying to maintain distance.

"Because it is the best puzzle of my life!" he shouted, raising his arms with childlike excitement. "I’ve been studying shimmer for three years. I know what it can do. People only see the addiction, but it can do much more – heal, enhance, change. If only others saw its potential instead of getting high off of it..."

Rey was like an open book. His face revealed every emotion, every thought. He was fascinated, determined, and completely absorbed in his research. But also, in a strange way, pure. Shimmer didn't lure him the way it did with most people. To him, it was something to study and improve, nothing more.

That made you think. If shimmer didn’t tempt him, maybe this new variant wouldn’t be a temptation for him either? Maybe his enthusiasm could be used for something greater. Maybe he could work on the Zarys project, since he was already interested in what you consumed.

"And what if..." you started slowly, spontaneously, not yet sure how to phrase it. "What if you had a chance to study something else?"

Rey looked up from the papers, clearly intrigued by your tone. You could tell he quickly grasped that there was something more behind your words.

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"I see shimmer fascinates you," you continued, trying to sound confident. "If you had the chance to create something better – would you do it?"

A shadow of hesitation crossed his face.

"In this job, I don’t have time to pursue personal ambitions. I won’t take shimmer outside the lab without the boss's permission. And that... that’s not happening."

You couldn’t help but show a slight grimace of disappointment, though you tried to hide it. You understood his concerns – Silco instilled a fear in him that even suppressed his biggest fascinations.

"What if you could do it in your free time?" you suggested, trying to find a way to stir his interest.

He squinted as if weighing your words. He was cautious – no surprise there. To him, you were still an addict, someone hard to trust. And he wasn’t wrong to feel that way.

"We’ll get back to this," he suddenly said, standing up. "I have to take these results. Wait here for me, okay?"

His sudden withdrawal surprised you, but you nodded.

"Okay," you mumbled.

Rey disappeared through the door, leaving you alone. You felt like you’d taken a step forward, though you still didn’t know how to proceed with the game. At least you had time to think about it. Silco and Sevika hadn’t assigned you any tasks – you could wait here instead of going back to the empty room.

You didn’t know how long you would have to wait for him, but you were determined. If he thought that sitting alone in the room waiting for his return would make you give up, he was gravely mistaken. You pulled out your notes from your bag. Of course, reading them made no sense. What you had to understand, you had already understood at the beginning. The rest was scientific babble that didn’t reach you no matter how hard you tried. Looking at them, you felt motivation, the awareness that your decision had been the right one.

What you were about to do wasn’t an act of heroism. You weren’t doing it for recognition. You were doing it because you knew you had to. It was no longer about you. It wasn’t even about Silco. It was about the city. About its people. About the future you could now see more clearly than ever before. Zaun didn’t need another monster. Or a hero. It needed someone who was ready to act, to dirty their hands if it meant others would be safe.

You thought that maybe Rey had been interested in your research because it could help him find the answer to destroying the half-product. Whatever was in those notebooks was too valuable to ignore.

***

Sitting idly was starting to annoy you. After a moment, you absentmindedly put your feet on the desk and pulled your set of lockpicks from your backpack. You hadn’t cleaned them in a long time, and now it seemed like there was no better opportunity. However, with each passing minute, your impatience grew. Something had to stop Rey, but you had no idea what. The thought of going out and looking for him yourself was becoming more appealing by the minute, but something held you back from leaving the room.

More than an hour had passed. You mentally analyzed how to approach Rey without sounding like a desperate addict to shimmer. Suddenly, you heard the sound of the door opening. Instinctively, you lifted your head, ready to ask Rey what had kept him so long – but it wasn’t him.

"I knew it was about you when someone told me one of my people was up to something," came the familiar voice.

You hadn’t expected Silco. His presence was a surprise, but the tone he used clearly suggested he wasn’t particularly happy with your presence here. The fatigue on his face was something you knew all too well.

"What?" you stammered, slowly standing up. "I'm not up to anything."

Silco moved closer, but his movements were strangely restrained. He stopped a few steps from you, eyeing you with a gaze full of unspoken questions.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a calm but tense voice.

You felt the words hit you like a blow. His tone, though controlled, carried something hard to identify – disappointment? Maybe anger? You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I was talking to Rey about mutations," you explained cautiously. "I learned more than I wanted to, but it confirmed my idea. I asked him if he would try creating something new if he had the chance. Nothing more."

His face remained still, betraying no emotion, which was even more unsettling. Silco sat on the edge of the desk, avoiding your gaze. You felt like something was wrong – something you couldn’t quite grasp.

"Why did you do that?" he asked softly after a pause.

There was something in his voice you didn’t know. His usual assertiveness seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something more elusive – maybe disappointment? Something in you tensed. You stepped back a step, trying to understand this sudden change in his behavior.

"Rey knows about the variant," you began carefully. "You told me I could tell him about it."

"Yes, Rey knows," he interrupted, his tone firmer than before. "He’s been given a specific task – to neutralize the semi-finished product."

You watched as he pulled out the familiar cigarette box. His hand’s movement was a bit stiff, betraying the tension he wasn’t showing on a regular basis.

"I’m not trying to pull him off the task, if that’s what you mean," you said, with a hint of irritation.

"The semi-finished product is ours, but that doesn’t mean the problems are over," he replied, lighting the cigarette. He slowly exhaled, as if buying time to collect his thoughts. "Rey and the rest are working on a way to safely dispose of it. Pouring it out or burning it isn’t an option."

It seemed to you that everyone you told this to didn’t see your approach. Why bother trying to come up with new ways when the solution was literally at hand?

"But this variant is the answer!" you said, a little too loudly, feeling growing frustration. "If they work it out, destroying the semi-finished product will go faster."

The silence that followed was heavy. Silco watched you intently, as if weighing your words. There was something more in his gaze – something beyond mere fatigue. Finally, he looked away and took another drag from his cigarette.

"This variant is dangerous and unstable," he said at last, with clear emphasis on each word. "You’re ahead of my plans. Creating the variant that saved your life is a last resort. Before I make another move, I need to know if there are other ways."

"But why wait?" you retorted, frustrated.

"Because temptation can be stronger than loyalty," he responded, his tone noticeably colder. "Even being in contact with the semi-finished product is dangerous. I can’t risk betrayal."

You clenched your fists. Thoughts were swirling in your head. Finally, you spoke, trying to stay calm, but a hint of anger was in your voice.

"It’s not just about the research. I know exactly what it means to be addicted," you said firmly. "I don’t think any of you can imagine the suffering it brings. I know. I don’t want anyone else to go through it. And Marcus? He doesn’t have any supplies right now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop planning! I don’t think he’ll attack Zaun directly, but it’s worth being prepared if he dares to!"

You paced nervously around the room, trying to calm the storm of thoughts and emotions that seemed to rise with each passing moment. Silco was still standing in place, leaning on the desk with a cigarette between his fingers. In silence, he exhaled smoke, as if carefully weighing the words he was about to say. The silence was louder than any shout, and its weight nearly overwhelmed you.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was calm but firm, as if weighed in every word.

"I understand. I appreciate that you want to help, but you can’t act like this."

Those words hit you harder than you expected. His tone wasn’t angry, but there was something that hurt more – disapproval. You stepped back a pace, as if more distance could help you regain your balance.

"Is it bad that I want to help others?" you asked, trying to make your voice sound confident, though inside you felt smaller and smaller.

"I told you not to play the hero," he reminded you quietly, without raising his voice, but his gaze seemed to pierce through you. "Even if we develop a cure, the people in Zaun won’t trust me enough to take it. Shimmer is my product, everyone knows that. You know what they think of me. Do you think they’ll believe me when I say this variant isn’t part of my game? They won’t. That’s why it’s safer and quicker to prevent than to cure."

The way he put it, you began to see the logic that was missing in your thinking. You had known this world from a completely different perspective – not so long ago, you were one of those people who thought of Silco as the worst man alive. Would you have accepted a cure from him back then? Absolutely not.

"I’m holding you to your word," he continued, still not taking his eyes off you. "You say you know what the game is about, but do you really understand? Your actions undermine my authority and plans. I can’t afford such behavior in my team."

Each of his words hit you with surgical precision. You began to see the mistakes you had made, and it hurt even more, especially after what Sevika had said to you. You were supposed to stop causing problems, but here you were. You thought you were acting for the right cause, but along the way, you missed several key steps that Silco was now clearly pointing out.

What overwhelmed you the most was that he wasn’t angry with you. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t criticize you emotionally – he was tired, but still unwavering.

In his eyes, there was care, though it was hidden deep beneath layers of cold logic and leadership pragmatism. It was this contrast between who he was to you as a person and who he had to remain as a boss that made the pain hit harder.

"I should remove you from working on shimmer. Give me something so I don’t have to do that."

These words hung in the air, filling the silence between you with a weight that you couldn’t ignore. His tone was not threatening, but there was determination in his voice—and something else. Something more subtle. Hope?

You looked at him, trying to find any hint in his face of what he really meant. But Silco was a master at masking emotions. He looked at you with something between disappointment and expectation, as if desperately searching for a reason not to carry out his threat. Not to place you on the same level as the others, even though he should.

You could feel your thoughts running chaotically, jumping from one emotion to another. A mistake. That much was clear. Now that Silco had put a mirror before you, you began to see everything more clearly. Your idea was good—you had good intentions—but it wasn’t enough. You had acted too quickly, driven by emotions instead of logic. You hadn’t thought about the consequences.

What hurt the most was that no one had shown you this before. You had been tossed between Silco and Sevika, so the usual way of passing on information never appeared in conversations. You and he had gotten used to your directness, but that usually only concerned the two of you and your problems. Never had something like this happened with his other employees. But you also knew it didn’t matter. You had no right to blame anyone else. You were part of the game, and you had to play by its rules—rules that Silco knew inside out, and that you were only beginning to understand.

It was something you should have learned on your own. Something you needed to learn. Silco was more to you than just a boss, and maybe that’s why you now felt so strongly that your relationship with him couldn’t protect you from mistakes. Or their consequences.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze settle on your shoulders. He was patient. He didn’t push, but his expectation was almost tangible.

"I have nothing," you finally said, and your words seemed to shatter the silence into a thousand sharp pieces. You lifted your head, looking at him with determination, even though inside you felt like a child who had just realized the scale of her own mistakes. "I see what I did. I didn’t think about how it would be perceived. How it could affect you, Zaun, all of us" you took a deeper breath, suppressing the rising emotions. "I'm yours to decide."

The silence that followed these words was different. This time, it didn’t weigh down on you. It was more like it freed you. You looked at Silco, seeing in his eyes something more human than anything he had shown you before. There was no anger in him. Tiredness and relief clashed with some impulse.

"I don’t intend to punish you," he said after a moment of silence, and his voice seemed to vibrate with unspoken emotions. "I’m glad you finally understand, but this can’t happen again."

It was as if with each word he was handing you his exhaustion. You sat down on the bench, hiding your face in your hands. With you two, nothing was simple. You knew that if your relationship were different, this conversation would have ended differently. You should have been happy that Silco’s feelings prevented him from punishing you properly, but it left a strange, bitter taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to be treated differently. You didn’t want to work knowing you hadn’t worked hard enough to earn respect.

"Maybe you should," you muttered barely audibly.

You heard Silco stand up, but he didn’t come closer.

"I don’t intend to make an example of you."

"Rey is probably expecting some results," you said with your voice muffled by your hands.

No, you didn’t blame him either. It was good that he was loyal to Silco and saw something in you that needed to be reported. Maybe he really saw traces of addiction in you? Maybe that’s what spoke through you when you began to think about change?

"He doesn’t concern me," Silco said softly. "The important thing is that you see your mistake."

No, he shouldn’t be kind and understanding toward you. He should be angry. He should be furious. He was giving you understanding and space to learn everything at your pace, which, in a strangely specific way, irritated you more than you wanted to admit. You saw feelings in him that he hadn’t spoken yet, and you were afraid of their strength.

"I didn’t do this for myself. I’m not trying to be a hero..." you replied weakly, falling silent for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. "I’ve never had anything, I’ve always been alone. It’s no excuse, but I don’t know how to find my place in all this," you groaned faintly, feeling how your own words began to overwhelm you. "I don’t understand any of you. You’ve given me so much, and in return, you got nothing—only chaos," the words burned in your throat. You could feel your stomach tighten, as if you were saying something you didn’t want to say but that had to come to light. "Sometimes I’m afraid I can’t give any more. Because... I don’t know how," your voice trembled, and you fell silent, as if speaking further would break something—not only inside you but something between you two. "That belonging Sevika talked about... It was never a part of my life," you felt yourself shaking, though you weren’t sure whether it was from fear or because you were finally saying something you had held inside for so long. "This is all I know. I’m learning it, but it’s harder than I thought, which is causing you more trouble than I want. I respect Sevika’s words, but I don’t know why you still want me to stay. What do you get out of it?" you asked, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

You frowned slightly. This wasn’t the moment for sentimental explanations. You took a deep breath and finished with a still trembling voice:

"My word is all I have, and it’s all I can give you. I promise it won’t happen again."

For a long moment, he said nothing, and at first, you didn’t notice because you were lost in your thoughts. Only when you looked at him did you realize something was wrong. Silco looked lost in thought, as if his mind was reaching far beyond what was happening here and now. He didn’t look angry, though—more... moved. Maybe even frightened. Yet the silence between you wasn’t tense. It was... comfortable. As if you both knew that nothing needed to be said right now. That words would only disturb what you could feel in the air.

"I know what happened today. I know what Lacey did," his voice was calm, almost too calm, as if he was trying to hide something more in it. He lowered his gaze to his hands, and you noticed that they were slightly trembling. "What you just said… for a moment, I doubted you."

Your heart froze, and your hands clenched around the fabric of your clothing as if it would protect you from what you would hear next. But he didn’t look at you—he couldn’t.

You jerked, feeling the worst fear—disappointment—rise to the surface, taking control of you. Silco didn’t notice, too absorbed in his words, as if he couldn’t control them.

"I was afraid it was just another reckless idea you were using to push away the guilt. That you wanted to give her something to fill the gap left by her husband. I’m sorry, I should never have doubted your commitment."

It was like a blow. You bent over, struggling to breathe. You clenched your teeth, knowing that only seconds separated you from the first tears. What he said hurt, but only because he had every right to think that way. From the start, he had considered saving Lacey and Zarys to be a foolish idea. It was your responsibility and your punishment for your recklessness. You wouldn’t have held it against him if he used that moment as a lesson for you. Did you give him any reason to think otherwise?

You felt something inside you breaking. So many problems, yet he was still beside you...

"I'm sorry," the words slipped from your lips quietly, almost unconsciously. You felt your emotions beginning to overwhelm you, and the tears were no longer so far away, as if they were about to find an outlet. "I’m trying," your voice trembled, but you continued. "I don’t want to be a burden to you. I know you don’t need weak people. I wanted to help, but I only made things worse."

You were glad that the honesty between you had stopped being artificial, like something that didn’t belong to you. But when you opened your mouths to share something, a lot of darkness and pain came out, connecting you too tightly.

Then you saw a movement—Silco, seemingly driven by a sudden impulse, crouched down in front of you. You quickly stood up, surprised by the sudden movement. His face was at the level of yours, and his eyes were almost devoid of emotion—as if he had seen something in your words that shook him to the core. You were only a few centimeters apart. You could clearly smell the smoke around him. At the same time, you wanted to close your eyes and surrender, yet not interrupt what was happening. Because it was something more than a mere desire, an impulse. You saw the emotions swirling in his eyes.

All of them too strong for any one to win.

Once again, you felt it—mistake. Your mistake, when you asked him for words, when he was giving it all to you. All it took was reaching out, opening your mouth, and...

"I thought I could..." Rey suddenly barged into the room without knocking, destroying everything you had managed to build in that moment.

You felt like strangling him.

In an instant, the coldness and composure returned to Silco’s face. He glanced aside. His voice was threatening when he spoke:

"Not now. Leave."

You heard Rey gasp slightly, but you didn’t know if it was because of what he had seen or because of the clear anger in Silco’s voice. He quickly left, as if the devil himself was chasing him. The moment Rey slammed the door shut, the silence was almost palpable. Silco stood up and stepped back, trying to maintain the appropriate distance, but—truth be told—you had already burned all your bridges long ago. He straightened up, and his gaze fell on you. You felt your heart beating faster, but you had to say something.

"Well… at least we know Rey has perfect timing," you said half-jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. You smiled weakly but didn’t look away.

Silco raised an eyebrow—subtly enough that you wondered if it had really happened—but didn’t respond.

"I know I made a mistake," you added in a more serious tone, standing up to give your words the weight they deserved. "I won’t let my mistakes put you in a difficult position," you took a deep breath, stepping closer to him. "Everyone told me to watch your gestures, and I... I guess I waited too much for the words. I’m sorry."

Your words were sincere, and you spoke straight from the heart, not trying to hide or justify anything.

For a moment, Silco only looked at you—his eyes filled with emotions, but none of them broke through the surface. Finally, he sighed quietly and looked away, as if searching for the right words to say.

"I wasn’t prepared for what’s happening," his voice was calm, honest, but still firm. "When you gave me your loyalty and understanding, you took a huge weight off my shoulders."

You hadn’t heard that tone in a long time; you didn’t realize how much you had missed it until he spoke to you this way. You saw a slight movement, as if he was trying to return to the closeness that had seemed natural just moments ago, but something held him back. He avoided looking at you, but still, you saw something in his gaze that caught your attention—uncertainty, as if for the first time he was revealing a part of himself that he had always kept hidden.

"I want you to know that you’re not just another person on the team. You’re more than that. If we had a choice...or time... But we don’t have this or another reality. There’s only what we have now."

You felt your heart stop for a moment and then start beating at a dizzying speed. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. What he was saying sounded like something you had been waiting for—and at the same time, like something you were afraid to hear.

"I’ve been waiting for you to say something like that. But... I don’t want it to be something I’m forcing on you. Do you know what this means to me? This is not something that can be undone."

The tension in his gaze made you feel faint. He pierced you with his eyes, making you forget everything, and the only thing that mattered was him. His face momentarily became almost completely devoid of the mask he usually wore. You saw that he weighed every word as if it were worth its weight in gold.

"I know," he replied quietly, softly. "And I’m not going to take it back."

At that moment, Zaun could have come inside, and you would still have seen and heard only him. It was both degrading and decisive at the same time. You wanted to take a step towards him, to show how much you cared, how much you wanted everything he was offering you. But you couldn’t move under the weight of his words.

That thought hit you as hard as anything, making you lose your breath.

I promised I wouldn’t do anything without your consent.

Silco never threw words away carelessly, and every sentence had a purpose and destiny. You could fill in the gaps now, but if there was one thing you knew about him, it was that he would never get closer to you this way without explicit consent. No matter how badly you wanted it, he needed your words.

You were walking straight into perdition.

"I don’t want anything easy," you replied, fighting with your voice so that the trembling wouldn’t distort the words. "I wanna be yours."

It was too little and too much at the same time. If there were words that could show him that he had you in his grasp from the start, you just said them. You wanted to belong to him in every sense. As a worker, as a companion, as a partner. Whatever role he saw for you, your answer was: yes.

Your words lingered in the room for a moment. You heard how, in their rhythm, something changed in him. No, it wasn’t tenderness. It was something more. Something more dangerous and raw. As if he had been waiting for this, and the moment he heard it from your lips, some of his brakes let go.

You didn’t notice when he was in front of you. You drew in a breath, intimidated by the raw desire written on his face. This couldn’t be stopped.

He raised his hand and placed it on your cheek, running his thumb just near the edge of your lips. The gesture was too bold, too full of intention to ignore. You felt your whole body tighten under his touch, as if every rule you had imposed on yourself until then was starting to crack.

That touch, though brief, spoke more than both of you could say aloud. It wasn’t a light brush, Silco never touched you gently. His movements were nervous, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing.

You could see in him that this was something he hadn’t planned. His gaze was focused on your lips. You could see in his eyes a desire that couldn’t be satisfied by touch alone.

Unconsciously, you parted your lips.

Something flashed in his eyes, something he didn’t suppress immediately. His hand pressed a bit harder. As if he was testing your boundaries. As if he was waiting for you to say “stop,” but with your entire being, you were screaming for him not to stop. His hand was slightly rough. You trembled, waiting for his next move. You felt his touch just at the edge of your neck. Just millimeters lower and you would have lost all control. The rest of his fingers were at the edge of your hair. You felt a dangerous urge for him to grip you harder and show his desires. You fought the temptation to turn your head slightly, brushing your lips against his hand to give him a signal.

What he dared to do was too fragile. You had the feeling that even though his touch was so firm, he wasn’t really there. Wherever his thoughts had wandered, it was a place you couldn’t reach. His touch was addictive, metered out to you, and with every bit, you begged for more, feeling all resistance fall away.

But the touch disappeared.

It stopped. He didn’t pull away abruptly, but you could see he was fighting with himself. He stepped back one step, then another. His gaze, which had just been full of desire, dimmed, replaced by something more controlled—almost indifferent.

“Not like that,” he said in a hoarse voice that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, unable to reply. Your reaction wasn’t new, but it was terrifying at the same time. You were ready. For him, you were ready to break every rule you’d set for yourself. And yet, he was the one who gave up—in the moment when you were sure you wouldn’t be able to pull away from him. You felt disappointed, but also relieved. You didn’t know if you would have been able to stop yourself if he hadn’t.

You tried to control your breath and everything that was happening inside of you. You weren’t sure if you were more angry that he had interrupted what might have happened, or if you were grateful. However, you couldn’t deny that this moment had left something in you that didn’t want to go away. Despite the lingering desire, you knew you had heard those words. Some time ago. From your lips. You should have been ashamed that you had so weakly melted under his touch, and that once again, he had to take control of the situation. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt that you wanted to break the rule. You wanted to break everything for him, every rule, every boundary, just to stay in this suspended moment longer. But Silco didn’t need weak people. The way his respect for your words won over his desire made you feel a sharp sting of shame for your actions. But only for a moment; everything quickly burned away in the fire that awoke inside you whenever Silco came closer.

Yes, it was playing with fire, but you wanted to burn yourself.

Chapter Text

You watched him retreat—not just taking a step back, but also putting his mask of composure back on. It should have been terrifying, how quickly he could slip back into his role, as if he had never taken it off. And yet, you only felt sadness at the thought of the chains he imposed on himself, as if he didn’t want to allow himself more.

Every gesture, every movement... You couldn’t take your eyes off him. There was something almost intimate in the way he let you see it all, as if he didn’t notice that every detail of him was embedding itself in your memory. Slim fingers slipping through strands of dark hair. A gesture that momentarily softened the sharp lines of his image. The strands fell back into place, and at the same moment, he reached for his tie, tightening it under his neck in that familiar, orderly gesture. As if he were finishing getting dressed after...

You closed your eyes, struck by your own imaginings.

It irritated you. More than you'd like to admit. Everything in his behavior—that apparent normalcy, as if nothing had happened, as if his touch wasn’t enough of a reason for his calm to crumble—made your thoughts burn. There was something too silent about this moment, too full of tension. As if you were witnessing something forbidden.

You felt hot. The awareness that you had thrown him off balance—even just for a moment—was unbearable. Your thoughts slipped out of control, and in your mind, you saw your hands tangled in his hair. You’d dreamed of doing it for a long time, but he always controlled everything. You were too unsure of everything to act on it, too aware of the consequences. Would you ever be allowed to do it?

You couldn’t speak. You could still feel his touch on you, still vivid, though it had long since faded. And yet, you already missed it. You were pathetic in your own lack of self-control, in your desire to hold onto that moment just a little longer. And still, you couldn’t move. You didn’t trust your legs—or yourself.

The silence between you was heavy with unspoken words, and yet, it felt as if your words echoed, stretching the moment even further. But perhaps only you saw it. He walked to the door, opened it slightly, letting in not only brighter light and noise but also... him.

Rey slipped through the slightly ajar door, casting a curious glance your way. You wanted to tell him not to stick his nose into matters that weren’t his, but if it hadn’t been for his entrance, perhaps Silco wouldn’t have dared that gesture. Still, you looked at him resentfully, as if he had just betrayed you when you needed him the most.

Silco reached for Zarys’s journal and silently began flipping through it. The man waited patiently for his superior’s words, but his posture betrayed uncertainty. You watched his back, wondering if you should leave. Silco searched for something among the notes of the dead scientist, then handed the journal to Rey, lightly tapping him on the chest with the notebook.

“These notes cannot fall into the wrong hands. Understand?” he said, reaching into his coat pocket for a cigar box. He pulled one out and lit it leisurely.

“Yes, sir,” Rey replied, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Should I send him a message?”

Silco lifted his gaze to him, but his eyes slid over him and landed on you. It seemed like he didn’t see his subordinate anymore, only you. Yet, it was too fleeting, too naïve to be true. You couldn’t read it, he returned to his old, cold, and composed self.

“No. I’ll do it,” he replied quietly, his voice firm. “I think our problem will capture his attention.”

Rey nodded, though something clearly bothered him. Silco didn’t notice his hesitation. You were still lost in memories, making it hard to watch him calmly give orders. You took a step toward the door, hoping no one would stop you.

“Is this really... a good idea, sir?” Rey asked in a lowered voice.

Yes, this was definitely a conversation you shouldn’t have overheard. Whoever that man was, it was no longer your concern. You stepped over the threshold. You still managed to hear Silco say:

“I’m not asking for your opinion, Rey. Follow the order.”

He didn’t stop you as you crossed the corridor. You knew why. He couldn’t do that, but some bitterness remained. This was Silco; he wouldn’t chase after anyone or beg for attention or time. You needed to be alone, but at the same time, you wished he would grab your hand and ask you to stay—just like the previous day.

The air outside was as heavy as always. The rain started falling slowly, lazily, as if it too needed a moment to decide whether it would turn into a torrential storm or just wet the streets of Zaun with a cool, damp veil. Single droplets settled on your face, on your eyelashes, as if they wanted to wake you, pull you out of the strange stupor you’d been in since you crossed the threshold. But you couldn’t.

Your thoughts still circled around him—around Silco and what had just happened. His words, gestures, glances... All of it stuck in you like thorns, reminding you with every step. You knew something had changed. It was almost tangible. Not only in him, but also in you.

You hadn’t thought when you spoke those words. "I wanna be yours." It wasn’t a calculation, no planned action, just raw, pure truth slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Yet, despite this carelessness, you wouldn’t take them back. No, now that you felt you had finally been honest—not just with him, but with yourself.

The way he reacted to you—his touch, his tone, his gaze—was different. More intense. More... raw. There was nothing gentle about it, but somehow, that’s what made your heart beat faster. Silco wasn’t gentle, he never had been. Every gesture of his carried strength, control, and now you saw clearly, something more. Something he had tried to hide but that surfaced. As if your words had awakened him.

The vision of what could happen next was both exciting and terrifying. You had gotten to know Silco enough to know he had his limits. He had just crossed one of them. And though you should feel concerned, all you felt was impatience. You wanted more. You wanted him. You wanted to know how far this could go.

But the rain—cold, penetrating—cooled your thoughts, forcing you to reflect more soberly. The people around you, walking through the street, busy with their daily affairs, had no idea what had just happened. They ran to their homes, hiding under awnings to avoid getting hit by the rain. They had no idea that decisions were being made somewhere above them that could determine their future. They also didn’t know that their only salvation was the man they hated.

How did Silco endure this every day? How did he cope with the awareness—this burden—that no matter what he did, he would always be the one they blamed, the one they hated?

You knew that Silco would never be yours. It was a bitter, cold truth that settled in your mind like fog. "I wanna be yours." You said it because that’s how you felt. But your desires didn’t matter compared to his goals. And his goal was freedom for Zaun. Always Zaun.

And maybe that’s why you started to see everything differently. You wanted to be part of it. You wanted to be part of his plans. You wanted to be his tool, something he could use. It was paradoxical. Just recently, you had a problem with the fact that he saw you only as an investment. And now – now you were consciously giving yourself into his hands, allowing him to do so.

It was a realization that both terrified you and strangely... calmed you. Because you knew that his plans depended on people like you. If you could help by offering everything you had, you were ready. You were a soldier, following orders. You did it because trust in him, in Sevika, was stronger than your doubts. It was something Sevika had been trying to drill into your head from the start, and only now had it truly reached you.

Your thoughts drifted to Marcus. How different they were – and yet, how similar. Both were strong players with resources that could either destroy or save the city. But their approaches were entirely different.

Silco... To many, he was a monster. To those who looked at him from afar, he was terrifying. But you knew the difference between fear and respect. Silco demanded one and evoked the other – maybe not always consciously, but always effectively. People saw him that way, and you couldn’t deny it. Cruel, ruthless, willing to do anything to achieve his goals. And yet – his goals were clear. Despite his brutal methods, the aim was clear. He wanted Zaun to stand on its own feet. He wanted an independent city that wouldn’t have to beg for scraps from Piltover’s table.

Freedom for Zaun. Even if it meant radical actions, even if it meant sacrifices.

Marcus? He had power. He could lead people, he could build something lasting, something better. But he didn’t want that. He couldn’t see it. He focused on Silco, as if he was the problem, rather than the system they lived in.

It was a paradox. Marcus, the sheriff, who had the means to change reality, focused all his energy on destroying the man who – though seen as a monster – was trying to create something better. You saw how his thirst for revenge consumed him from the inside. How his actions – including the production of the drug that could destroy the city – were driven by personal vendetta.

Marcus represented everything power does to a person. Corruption, fear, selfishness. He was a symbol of compromise that destroyed everything around him. He wasn’t fighting for a better Piltover or for Zaun’s safety. He was fighting for his own position. He was using Silco’s drug to try to destroy him – not because he wanted to help Zaun, but because Silco was an obstacle in his way. He was behaving exactly how Silco would, according to the people. Seeking revenge for his wounded ego. He couldn’t break his ties with Silco because he knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Getting rid of him would allow Marcus to succeed on many fronts. Free from the deal, a hero who saved the city, a genius who would lock away a dangerous criminal.

Marcus didn’t see that without Silco, the underground would plunge into chaos. Only Silco could control it. And only Silco was willing to pay the price for it. You couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if Silco were eliminated. Chaos. Fear. Maybe even war. People would finally have proof that the leader of Zaun was just a man – and they would use that to destroy what he had tried to build. The barons would seize power, wanting to grab as much for themselves as they could. You knew they didn’t care about building an independent city. Finns like that were probably everywhere. Show them money or luxury, and they’d forget everything. You had heard his words – why fight when you could enjoy the “goodness” the upper city offered. You wondered if anyone ever asked themselves whether it was better to live comfortably under Piltover’s boot or build from the ground up on their own terms.

The rain was getting heavier. Its drops blurred the outlines of the city, but they couldn’t wash away your thoughts. And those still circled around one person. Around Silco.

The road home seemed too short. You would have needed at least ten more laps for the rain to wash everything off you. But you needed to rest. Your arm still hurt from the scratches. You had forgotten to dress it after returning from the hospital, and now, as the wet fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, you felt it more clearly.

Actually, you were glad nothing had changed when you walked in. It was as noisy and chaotic as always, which allowed you to steady yourself. Because right now, you felt like you were about to fly away. Your goal was Sara. She strangely always had what you needed on hand. Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to treat the scratches on your own. Besides, you were curious whether anything had changed in the city since your last mission.

You spotted her from a distance. She was leaning over the table talking to one of the men. Probably the same one she’d been flirting with recently. You watched her, not wanting to interrupt her enjoyment. Yes, for them, it was simple. Talking, having fun with each other’s company, and ignoring everything else.

“Must be nice,” you muttered, sitting heavily at the other end of the table.

For the first time, you regretted being able to hear better. Their conversation wasn’t meant for you, but you couldn’t shut yourself off from it. It wasn’t as simple as closing your eyes. You stretched your legs out in front of you, realizing you had nothing to occupy yourself with. Silco wasn’t planning any action. Sevika, as usual, had disappeared, and you were left alone with your thoughts. Could anything be worse?

“You look awful,”

Sara sat down next to you, pulling one leg under herself. Her cheeks were flushed.

“For that, you look like a cat who just caught something,”

She blushed, knowing exactly what you were referring to. She lightly tapped your arm. Her fingers brushed over the sore spot. You hissed loudly, instinctively pulling away.

“Damn,” you whispered. “Do you have anything to disinfect this?”

Sara raised her eyebrows, but didn’t seem surprised. Well, in this job, injuries seemed to be an everyday occurrence. She stood up and waved at you. You followed her with relief, glad you didn’t have to ask for her help. She grabbed a first-aid kit from one of the shelves and confidently headed for the stairs.

“What hit you?” she asked, glancing back.

“Nails,” you answered quietly, slightly embarrassed, remembering how easily Lacey had tricked you.

Sara didn’t comment on it, but her expression said more than you wanted to hear. She boldly walked into your room, leaving the door open. Gratefully, you sat down on the chair. You watched her pull a bottle from a small box and take a clean cloth. The air was filled with the smell of alcohol. It hit your nose and burned your throat.

“Take this off,” she ordered, pointing at your shirt. “You’re lucky I have more time, or you’d be patching it up yourself.”

You grimaced as you pulled your arm out of the sleeve. Your skin was irritated. The adrenaline kept you from noticing it earlier, but it had scratched you to the point of bleeding. Your arm was marred by three crooked lines, with a small amount of coagulated blood.

When you pressed the fabric to your skin, you expected something stronger than the slight stinging. She cleaned the wound with the precision of someone who had treated worse injuries.

"It looks worse than it feels," you commented on the injury with a hint of appreciation. "Listen, I know you hear more than you'd admit. Got any rumors?"

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before sighing heavily.

"I know you're not asking for the usual gossip. What do you want to know?"

"I heard something happened in the upper city," you started quietly, even though you were alone. "Yesterday afternoon."

She set aside the slightly bloodied rag and wiped her hands on her pants. She stared at you for a moment. She might not want to be involved in what you were doing, but she saw and heard more than most. She was a brilliant observer, but too smart to work for Silco.

"I'm not sure," she replied seriously. "What I know are fragments. Apparently, there was a shooting. The enforcers were chasing someone, but everything is being whispered about quietly. I know you're not asking out of curiosity," she added, tightening the bandage on your arm a little more than necessary. "Whatever you did up there, no names or descriptions have leaked."

"Ouch!" you winced. "Why do you think it was me?"

Sara placed her hand on her hip and looked at you with mild pity. Even in the dim light, you saw amusement in her eyes.

"As if I didn't know you," she rolled her eyes. "You're not asking out of concern for others. This is the first time you're seeking information from me. It's obvious you're checking if you’ve got a tail."

"Seriously, we'd really need you," you remarked, not hiding how impressed you were by her abilities.

"I’m just patching you up. Don’t need any more excitement," she scoffed, packing the supplies into the kit.

"Thanks," you said quickly.

She gave a crooked smile, glancing at you in surprise.

"You’re too nice for this. Hardly anyone thanks me here."

She didn’t wait for your reply, leaving you in shock. What could she have meant?

You pulled a clean shirt from the closet, feeling your skin tighten under the bandage. The injury wasn’t serious, but it was a nuisance. As you cleaned it again, it started to heal, reminding you of itself.

You knew the people around you couldn’t be called well-mannered. Politeness was foreign to them. Words of gratitude didn’t echo off these walls. Why was she doing this if she had nothing to gain except the pay? Maybe she had her twisted needs, maybe it didn’t bother her, but she was wrong about you. You weren’t good. Not after what you’d done and what you still had to do. But now, it was somehow easier to think about it.

If the patrol knew who they were chasing, you’d have heard about it from Sevika. And in a pretty brutal way. But still, you had to make sure your identity hadn’t leaked. This wasn’t a mere misdemeanor, trespassing on restricted grounds. Marcus knew someone might show up at the building. It was a step he had consciously planned. He had a hunch Silco might intervene. Your presence there made everything worse. Wanted by Finn, seen at the crime scene. It all fit together too neatly. If anyone had recognized you, it would have caused too many problems.

Sara was more than she appeared at first glance. If she worked here only for the money, she would have let you bleed out in the street instead of helping. She didn’t want to be associated with you, but everyone here knew her, knew what she did. What was going through her mind?

You looked at the table with relief. You’d gotten rid of Zarys’s notes, no longer feeling his gaze on you. Whoever next took over his research would be dealing with the ghosts of the past.

That was no longer your problem. 

***

The darkness outside had fallen. For a moment, you considered going to Leon’s, checking in on him, but you quickly suppressed that thought. You remembered how you had used your acquaintance to pass that letter, and then wondered if Rosie had managed to take control of the building. As you stared into the space where you might find peace, your thoughts quickly returned to things you couldn’t change.

You lay on the bed, one leg propped up against the wall, tossing a ball in the air. The open window let in the cool air, and the breeze drifted inside. You were free, but that freedom didn’t bring you pleasure. Months of tension had taken their toll, and now, when you had a moment to breathe, you couldn’t calm down. All because the only thing you wanted was out of reach. Nothing else was even half as appealing.

"Pathetic," you whispered into the dark, feeling everything around you weigh down on you.

Suddenly, with force, you jumped to your feet. Someone entered the room. Sevika was standing in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, waiting for you to notice her presence. Her expression was expectant.

"We’re leaving."

"What? Like for drinking?" you asked, immediately sensing a chance for a brief escape.

Sevika seemed surprised. A look of consternation appeared on her face, as if she hadn’t expected that response. She shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"I wish," she replied with a hint of amusement. "You’ve got a job to do."

Hope shattered into pieces, but in an instant, it was replaced by excitement. Damn, you were starting to feel like a real workaholic.

"Do I need to grab equipment?" you asked, reaching for your jacket.

"God knows," she tossed over her shoulder, seemingly indifferent, but her voice betrayed a hint of stress. "I’m supposed to take you, but I don’t know why."

You froze mid-motion, your hand hanging in the air as if time had momentarily stopped.

"What’s the job?"

Sevika glanced over her shoulder, her face contorting into an expression of irritation.

"Move it, I’ll tell you on the way," she said quickly, stepping into the hallway.

Surprised but curious, you quickly followed her. You hadn’t expected a new task so soon, but anything was better than sitting in a room alone with your thoughts.

You stepped out into the darkness of the night. Sevika was walking fast, and being much taller than you, one of her strides equaled two of yours. You were a little worried by the fact that she seemed nervous, but she was always irritated about something, so it didn’t seem too out of the ordinary.

You passed a few streets before she slowed down and remembered you.

"Listen, this is a delicate matter," she started quietly. "Personally, I think you’re unnecessary there, but he insisted."

Your heart jumped suddenly, leaving behind a strange sensation.

"Silco?" you asked with slight hope.

"Do you know anyone else?" she replied sharply. "Marcus asked for a meeting."

"Is that strange?"

Sevika glanced at you as if she thought you were joking, but the sincere confusion on your face doubled her exhaustion.

"I wish I could live in such ignorance," she sighed. "Just an hour ago, Silco got a letter. The day after our operation. It's suspicious. Marcus doesn't operate like this—he doesn’t leave traces. Instead of coming to us like a normal person, he arranges meetings on the outskirts."

"So what?"

"You were supposed to stop questioning orders, not stop thinking," she snapped, exhausted. "Use your head. Marcus, the Piltover sheriff, who’s trying to take down Silco, is asking for a meeting in a place with no witnesses."

You furrowed your brows. It was suspicious, but you didn’t think Marcus would take any drastic actions in the heart of Zaun. He was rash, but not foolish.

"Do you think it’s a trap? That he wants to arrest him?"

"He doesn’t need evidence to detain him for the investigation."

Suddenly, the air grew cooler. You had been too absorbed in your own thoughts to realize just how dangerous the situation was. You didn’t know the rules by which the guards operated, but you knew Marcus was ready to bend everything to catch Silco.

"Maybe he just wants to meet somewhere no one will see him in the Lanes?"

"I don’t know," she shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

You nodded and quickened your pace. You didn’t understand why you were there, but you saw the danger. The fact that Marcus might recognize you worried you, but you hoped a scarf would be enough to hide your face. Besides, the sheriff's focus would be on Silco, so maybe he wouldn't notice you.

You weren't sure where you were. You hadn’t been paying attention to the road, too caught up in Sevika’s words. You looked around, trying to spot familiar landmarks, but everything looked the same. Only when you emerged from a side street did you understand.

"Sevika," you hissed quietly, drawing her attention. "Isn’t that the factory?"

Sevika followed your gaze and cursed.

"Damn, I knew the address sounded familiar."

You pulled your hood over your head, expecting the worst. It was the same place where Marcus had met with Zarys, and where you had foolishly been hurt. One of the walls was scorched, meaning the fire had been put out only after some time. It was the perfect place—no one would peek into these ruins.

The problem was that Finn also knew the place. You were walking into a nest of hornets and snakes. The question was, which one would strike first? Now, you had to watch out, not just for the guards, but for anyone in the vicinity. You could never be sure who worked for Finn. With every second, you were getting deeper into the mess.

Why the hell did Silco agree to this meeting?

It wasn’t like Marcus had more power. He could have ignored it and not bothered with this man’s whims. Marcus had a death wish, no doubt about it. It was easy to throw your life away when you had people who would take the hits for you.

Sevika waited for you by the tall metal doors. She let you in, watching the surroundings closely. Your hearing was better, but you couldn’t rely on it entirely. Anyone lurking in the shadows was a potential threat.

The smell of ash and burning mixed with dampness hit you the moment you stepped inside the factory. You shuddered. The last time you were here, you ended up with drugs in your pocket and a huge wound on your leg. It wasn’t the place that was creepy—it was the people who stayed there. You remembered Zarys’s fear of Marcus. You remembered the threats that were made here. You thought you could see the places where bullets had hit, and hear the sounds of gunshots. This place... it felt heavy, suffocating—like it had absorbed all the broken promises that must have been made here.

Silco stood in the center of the room, slightly apart from the three people—his people—who were engrossed in conversation. Their quiet voices echoed off the walls like murmurs, but there was an underlying tension. Silco, on the other hand, seemed detached from their world—calm, almost impenetrable. He held a letter in his hand, playing with it lazily as if it were something completely insignificant.

You and Sevika entered together, and their conversation immediately quieted. The three by the wall instantly turned their attention to you, their gazes sharp and briefly flickering with relief when they saw Sevika return. They didn’t even glance at you, waiting for her orders.

Sevika seemed unaffected by this—she moved confidently toward Silco. You stayed where you were, slightly suspended between them and whatever was about to happen.

Silco lifted his gaze, his eyes briefly locking with yours. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a gesture, but that moment was enough for the memories to come rushing back. The touch of his hand on yours when you were just a step away from crossing all boundaries. The weight of his gaze when he looked down at you, searching for whatever remained of what used to be self-control. Every detail of that moment imprinted itself deeply in your memory, marking you entirely.

You gasped for air, suddenly realizing that you were still standing there, staring at him. The warmth creeping up your neck made you look away. Slowly, you walked to the left side of the room and sat on a crate, trying to position yourself away from the center of attention. You didn’t look at him, though you felt his presence more clearly than anything else in the room.

Silco turned his gaze only when Sevika stood in front of him. Without a word, she began to report. For the first time, you regretted having such good hearing, because even from that distance, you could clearly hear his voice. It was colder than the one he used when speaking to you, but it was still his. He wasn’t in a hurry; he didn’t look like a man facing an imminent threat. His confidence grated on your nerves. There was something irritating about it—like he knew something the rest of the world couldn’t understand. If Marcus was planning something, you might not get out of this alive. You’d rather not have to fight anyone, but you knew that if it came to a clash, your job would be to fend off the attack.

And yet... you couldn’t help but admire that composure. He wasn’t pretending. Marcus wasn’t a threat to him, and his calmness was natural, effortless.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Every glance in his direction threw you off balance, destroyed your focus. And yet every cell in your body was aware of his presence—the way he moved, how he spoke, how with a confident gesture he folded the letter in half and slid it into his pocket.

The conversation between him and Sevika was quiet, almost muffled, as if there was no room for loud words in this place. The three people on the other side were talking, joking, completely unconcerned about the situation. You looked at them with a slight twinge of envy, remembering Sevika’s words. Ignorance is a luxury. When they behaved so lightly, you understood that they had no idea what was really happening. You shared a secret with Sevika and Silco, while they lived in a blissful bubble of ignorance. Why had she told you? Had Silco ordered her to, or did she truly trust you?

You were left alone, but not lonely. This world had accepted you long ago, and you had accepted it. But still, you had the feeling that your role in this place was unclear, like you were a piece of the puzzle whose shape hadn’t quite fit yet. Sevika thought you were unnecessary, so what were you doing in this factory?

Fatigue burned in the corners of your eyes, but the sense of duty won out. You rubbed your face with your hand, trying to wake up when you suddenly heard footsteps. He stopped beside you, leaning against the chest you were sitting on. You stiffened, afraid to move. You didn’t trust yourself in that moment.

Sevika approached the rest of the team and immediately started putting them in line. Her low, angry voice echoed off the walls. For a moment, you almost felt sorry for them, but quickly reminded yourself that Sevika was even sharper with you.

"Why did you leave?" he asked calmly.

His tone was clear and distinct – you knew he was talking about the meeting from a few hours ago, when you sneaked away, taking the opportunity.

"I didn't know if I should stay... And I messed things up enough that day," you answered quietly, feeling the weight of the conversation. You were breaking some rules by allowing this, but he seemed unfazed.

"The timing wasn’t right, true. But I regret we couldn't finish that... conversation."

That one word, spoken with a soft, suggestive tone, hit you like an arrow. His confidence was almost irritating – he saw no risk or challenge in you. No, not since you so smoothly and obediently gave yourself to him. You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, embarrassed by your own thoughts. Did he… No. You couldn’t afford such fantasies.

"I don't know why I'm here. You know confrontations aren't my thing. Even Sevika thinks I'm unnecessary for this mission," you said quickly, trying to change the subject.

"You're here because I want you to be," he replied with emphasis.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but his gaze was still on the rest of the team. It seemed like this conversation held no weight for him. Yet, something in his voice betrayed that it wasn’t just about the task.

You moved closer to the edge of the chest, as though that might save you. His gaze finally shifted to you, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

"You run things here," you said jokingly, though your voice was tense.

You hoped to lighten the atmosphere, but only thickened it. A shadow of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, a triumph so clear that you felt the ground slipping from under you.

"I want you to handle surveillance," he said louder, returning to neutrality.

You nodded, grateful for the return to work. You jumped down from the chest, too abruptly closing the distance between you. You felt your arm gently brush against the edge of his coat. Too close, even by your standards.

Sevika noticed. Her gaze cut across the space like a silent warning. She furrowed her brow, as if asking, "What are you two up to?" You knew she would bring it up later. But now... now you wanted to balance on the edge.

You wanted to see who would pull back first.

"Sure," you said quickly and moved forward when, unexpectedly, you felt his hand on your elbow.

The gesture was firm but not brutal, almost invisible to others. Only Sevika could have noticed it if she looked closely. The touch sent a shiver through your body.

"Just a reconnaissance," he explained calmly. "Marcus isn’t here yet, but he could show up any minute. You check the area and return. If you see anything suspicious, report immediately. Understand?"

His fingers still gripped your arm, as if not wanting you to leave. You swallowed, trying to calm yourself.

"Are you afraid I can’t handle it?" you asked, trying to sound confident.

He smiled, and his gaze told you he could see right through you.

"You can and will handle worse."

He leaned in closer, his whisper barely audible:

"But we’ll have time for that later."

He released you and stepped back, leaving you with a quickened breath and trembling hands. You inhaled, trying to steady your body, but that shiver – whether pleasant or unsettling, you weren’t sure – stayed with you. Silco approached Sevika, nodding at her. Her posture immediately shifted; from a distance, she seemed relaxed, but you could see the vigilance in her movements. As they started talking, it became clear their exchange was much more practical than your earlier conversation. It took you a moment to pull yourself together.

Whatever his words meant, you weren’t sure if you wanted to think about their meaning now. "You can and will handle worse" – it echoed in your mind. You wanted to believe he was talking about the job, but your conversation had been too tense, too ambiguous. As if those words carried a promise he left for you to consider. Or maybe you were just imagining it.

You glanced up. The platform looked solid – it had been repaired recently. But if someone hadn’t taken care of the details, one of the windows still had a broken lock. If that were the case, the lockpicks in your backpack would be enough to get outside without a problem. You grabbed the last rung of the ladder and began to climb. You didn’t look down, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the guys point at you. After a moment, you had a small audience. Vanity played quietly within you, as if waiting for your confirmation. You were one of many faces they saw every day, but few had seen you in action. In those brief moments when you had their attention, you felt something more than satisfaction. Maybe it was control?

Just a few seconds later, you crouched on the platform, choosing the window you'd use to go outside. Time was pressing, so you reached for your tools. The lock gave way after a few seconds, the click almost silent, but you still imagined everyone downstairs could hear it. You smiled under your scarf before slipping outside.

The cold air hit your face, bringing momentary relief, which quickly gave way to unease. You pulled your scarf higher over your face and breathed in, sensing the familiar smell of Zaun’s streets. Metal, dust, a faint hint of chemicals. There was nothing new about it, but today everything felt sharper, more real.

You wanted to downplay Sevika's fears, but her words weighed heavily on your mind. She was right – the danger could be real. Even if the chances were slim, ignoring it would be foolish. You still didn’t know why Silco had agreed to Marcus’s terms. Was it pure calculation, or something more? You hoped he wasn’t wrong.

The city around you seemed calm. Cold gusts of wind cut through the streets, carrying bits of dust with them. You scanned the area, looking for any shadow, any alley in hopes of catching something others might miss. But the streets were empty.

Too late for factory workers, too early for people seeking entertainment in the center. Who would be out now?

The calm of the city was the perfect breeding ground for your scattered thoughts. You glanced back through the window, looking for something, but the glass was cheap, full of irregularities, so you couldn’t see inside. What had suddenly gotten into him? What caused this change? The Silco who had just recently avoided contact had suddenly become so... touchy? Him? It would be absurd if you hadn’t felt it yourself. And, oh, you felt it perfectly.

Everything changed after his confession. Was it the fact that he was finally honest with himself? You also felt relief after telling him about your feelings, but you hadn't suspected that you were this alike. Whatever turned his thinking around made him more confident and relaxed in your presence. You couldn't complain; you wanted this. But when he so shamelessly took the opportunity to tease you, you thought you were going to lose your mind. And that was just one conversation—what would happen next?

"God, he is infuriating," you whispered, feeling the warmth of those words lingering on your lips.

You scanned the streets once again, but not much had changed. You moved to the other side of the roof, probing every tiny corner. You strained your eyes until something caught your attention. At the end of the alley, barely visible in the dim streetlight, a solitary figure moved.

A guard. Even from this distance, you recognized his silhouette. Besides, no one was crazy enough to stroll down the dark streets of Zaun in full uniform.

Marcus.

He couldn't have noticed you, but you still quickly bent down and returned to the window. You jumped through it, not bothering to go back down the ladder. You swung your legs over the railing and landed on the ground behind Silco and Sevika.

"Fuck!" Sevika shouted in surprise, flinching sharply. "Are you out of your mind?!"

It was a show-off move; you wanted to show the rest of them what you could do. The three of them by the wall fixed their gaze on you, and something like recognition showed on their faces. But Silco didn't even flinch. What a man. You rolled your eyes and pulled the scarf off your face.

"Marcus," you said quietly. "Alone. I didn’t see anyone else. I checked every side."

Sevika whistled to get the rest of the team’s attention. Everything worked like clockwork. They approached, now devoid of cheerfulness. You saw them adjusting their weapons on their belts. The air seemed to grow colder, as if a chill had entered the room.

"You know what to do," she said to them sharply.

They nodded in confirmation and each moved in a different direction. You stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to do. You shoved your hands in your pockets, trying not to show how uncertain you felt.

"Back to your position," Silco said, casting you a brief glance.

It was the same again. You didn’t see in him what you had just a few minutes ago. He had withdrawn, both physically and emotionally, leaving behind a coldness. You knew why—he must have been focused on the conversation. It was funny how you now had to watch his gestures even more carefully. You wouldn't have minded, but he was juggling his mood like a toy. You couldn’t do what he did—shove your feelings aside in an instant. There was no button for you to switch your character depending on what he wanted you to be. You had just tried to adjust to the new pattern, and yet he acted like he’d known it forever. It came too easily to him, too quickly.

You nodded without a word and took a step back. You felt relieved to be given a task, happy you wouldn’t have to look at Marcus anymore. You climbed back up to the platform. You cast a glance down below. Silco hadn't moved. His people waited in different places on the ground floor. Sevika, as usual, stood next to him. Fascinating and terrifying at the same time.

You jumped to the other side, lightly landing on the roof when you heard the sound of a door opening. The area was clear. He was either confident or foolish to come alone. Or he had something up his sleeve and his people were waiting for a signal.

You couldn’t stop yourself and glanced inside through the open window. You focused your eyes carefully on Marcus’s barely visible silhouette. He stood by the entrance, as if wondering whether stepping inside was a good idea. Finally, he slowly took off his mask, revealing a face that was clearly tense and irritated. From this distance, even the small wrinkles between his brows were visible.

"What’s this supposed to be?" he snapped sharply, his voice echoing in the empty interior. "Why are they here?"

"My people are not the problem," Silco replied calmly, almost dismissively. "Get to the point."

Marcus shifted uneasily. His posture betrayed that he was going to drag out the meeting.

"I don’t pick a place this secluded just so you can drag your whole gang along. I understand her," he gestured somewhere, probably at Sevika, "but why the rest?"

"Do you feel threatened, Marcus?" Silco asked, a shadow of amusement in his voice, though the threat hidden in those words was all too clear.

"By your thugs? You wish," Marcus growled, though his voice trembled slightly. He tried to sound confident, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his nervousness.

Silco stepped closer, moving slowly into your line of sight. Straight, with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, he seemed almost nonchalant, which only heightened his advantage.

"A man in my position is aware of the dangers that await him," he said softly, but with a distinct intonation that drove every word into the air like a blade. "It’s reckless to come alone to such... unexpected meetings."

Marcus paled. That was good, you thought with satisfaction, tightening your lips into a thin smile. His silence spoke more than anything he could say now.

"Listen, I don’t have time for your word games," Marcus spat after a moment, trying to regain his composure. "You must know that there was a shooting in the upper city. The Council is keeping an eye on me, I can’t just show up at Last Drop."

"I don’t remember when that became my problem," Silco replied, weariness in his voice that was almost theatrical. "I hope you didn’t arrange this just to complain about your job?"

Marcus gritted his teeth, his face contorting into a look of irritation.

"I know it pleases you that you act with impunity while I have the whole city on my shoulders," he snapped back. "Because of the Chancellor’s birthday, the Council is more sensitive than usual. Give me something or I’ll have to go into the city with my people."

You clenched your hands on the window frame. Marcus’s words hit you harder than you expected. You knew it was because of you. That thought weighed on your mind like a stone. The only comfort was that they couldn’t connect the dots to Silco yet.

"I’m sure you have plenty of evidence. You’ll manage," Silco answered, his tone balancing between condescension and indifference.

"Fuck you, Silco!" Marcus exploded. "This wasn’t the deal we made."

Silco moved even closer, reducing the distance between them to almost nothing. Marcus didn’t back away, but the tension between them was palpable.

"Tell me, Marcus. Is your head just a decoration?" Silco asked icily, his voice turning into a silky threat. Marcus froze, surprise flashing across his face. "I don’t think so. Start using it."

Below, muffled laughter echoed. Silco didn’t even flinch, but you could see Marcus’s face reddening with anger. Was provoking him a good idea? You weren’t sure, but the satisfaction of seeing his frustration was hard to ignore.

“You won’t be laughing when I put one of your people in Stillwater,” Marcus growled, trying to regain control.

“Why do you think it’s someone from me?” Silco asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. His voice carried interest, but beneath it lurked a sharp edge. “You might have forgotten, but I don’t manage everyone in Zaun. I’ve heard Finn’s people have been getting... arrogant lately. They’re causing me some trouble. We could cut their autonomy short and give you something to shut the council up.”

Your hands tightened around the window frame. You knew what Silco was trying to achieve—it was risky, but brilliant. Marcus couldn’t openly send guards after Finn’s people because of their cooperation. Silco was provoking him to give himself away.

“I need facts, a culprit, not your speculations,” Marcus said after a moment, his voice less certain. “You have three days, then I’ll come with my men. Don’t make me do this.”

“I hope you realize the consequences of your actions,” Silco replied in a low, almost grave tone, dropping the earlier amusement. “What do you think will happen to your men when they start sniffing around without permission? Pick your enemy, Marcus. And trust me, you don’t want to pick me.”

Marcus looked like a fish out of water—he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, he muttered through gritted teeth:

“Three days, Silco. Our deal’s useful, but it’s the council that pays me, not you.”

Silco allowed himself a slight smile, but it was the kind of smile that froze the blood in your veins. You knew people feared him, but only now did you fully understand why.

“If time is really money, I guess I’m in debt for paying attention to you. You can go now.”

The way Silco dismissed Marcus bordered on pure arrogance, but it was his natural authority that made it work. Marcus growled angrily but refrained from commenting. You saw him put his mask back on and head for the door. He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately slammed the door open and disappeared into the night.

You followed his movements with your eyes for a moment longer. After such humiliation, you wouldn’t be surprised if his wounded pride pushed him toward something foolish. He walked forward hunched, his head tucked into his shoulders, like a dog with its tail between its legs. But you knew that didn’t mean he had surrendered. Marcus had taken a hit, but it only made him angrier. You knew that next time, he’d strike back. A wounded animal always bites to defend itself. You hoped Silco had predicted that.

You slipped back inside only after making sure you could no longer hear footsteps or the murmur of conversations. This time, you descended more cautiously. The air was tense, but the amused voices of the three men effectively diffused it. They whispered among themselves, exchanging jokes about Marcus and elbowing each other. You tried to adopt their lightness, to see the situation as a funny sketch, but you knew they only saw the facade. You felt the threat beneath your skin—it was too real to ignore.

Sevika approached the group, silencing them with a firm gesture. She probably reassigned tasks, and they obediently scattered. But you had another goal—you ignored them entirely and went straight to Silco. Who were you trying to fool?

He didn’t speak or look at you, as if he hadn’t noticed your presence. He seemed lost in thought, maybe even irritated—his conversation with Marcus must’ve given him a headache.

“Everyone out. Back to your work,” he suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.

Something stirred inside you, but you quickly ignored that instinct. One of the men nodded toward the exit, and the others followed him. Well, that hurt more than you’d like to admit. The command was clear, so you stepped back, assuming it applied to you as well.

“Not you,” Silco added quickly.

He didn’t look at you, but the tone of his voice clearly indicated he was speaking to you. It seemed like the footsteps behind you slowed for a moment, as if someone still wanted to hear something, but you didn’t have the courage to look back. The door slammed shut one last time, and the three of you were left alone.

Sevika joined you, and the atmosphere immediately shifted. It was hard to say whether for better or worse. Her irritation was almost palpable. You were worried that the whole situation with Marcus was because of you, but since no one had mentioned it, you decided not to make yourself a martyr.

“Did you see anything?” Silco asked in a tired voice.

“No,” you answered quickly. “The area was clear. Marcus didn’t have any extra men around.”

Sevika relaxed a bit, but her brows were still furrowed.

“He wouldn’t dare,” she scoffed derisively.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he gave himself away,” Silco interjected, ignoring her reaction. “He showed that he hesitates before pointing fingers at Finn’s people. This mistake could cost him dearly,” he sighed heavily. “How much trouble can one man cause?”

His tone no longer carried the irritation of the conversation itself, but the frustration with Marcus as a whole. You stayed silent, not knowing what you could add. The fact that Silco kept you here was unexpected, but you’d already learned that he could change the topic abruptly.

“What now?” Sevika asked. “I suppose we won’t hand over one of ours?”

Silco rubbed his forehead in thought. For the first time, you saw something really weighing on him. But even if you wanted to react, you knew Silco would never accept such support from you. It hurt, but there was no choice—reality was what it was.

“We need to act quickly,” he muttered finally, then looked at Sevika. “Leave us.”

You saw a flash of surprise in her eyes, but it was quickly smothered. She shifted her gaze to you, trying to convey something, but your tired mind didn’t want to pick it up. It wasn’t jealousy, no, she wasn’t afraid for her position. It was something bigger, something she would tell you anyway. If it was your fault, she wouldn’t hesitate to point it out quite... bluntly.

She nodded and walked past you without a word, lighting a cigarette along the way. You watched her for a moment, strangely moved by her behavior. Maybe it was better not to return to your place tonight?

“The notes from Zarys have been passed into safer hands,” Silco suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, surprised by the return to this topic.

“I understand,” you replied briefly, not entirely sure what to make of the information.

“When you pointed out the usefulness of this shimmer version, I thought you might be right, and it wasn’t worth waiting,” he admitted calmly, with a slight grimace as he reached into his pocket for his habit. “After that pathetic exchange with Marcus, I see that it’s better to have the formula ready in case something gets into his head.”

“You said these studies were the final step.”

“I did,” he replied, exhaling smoke. “But Rey can’t develop it on his own.”

“I’d like to know, but I’ve already noticed that I won’t learn everything,” you remarked somewhat bitterly.

"I would tell you if you asked. This man... he's a brilliant scientist, working on this is the perfect challenge for him."

"You don't have to tell me everything..., but thank you," you said softly, this time in a gentler tone, full of sincere gratitude.

Your words clearly surprised him. He held his gaze on you as though seeing you anew. His irritated mask began to fade, replaced by something far more human—tiredness hiding behind his commanding posture. It looked like he was analyzing something intensely for a moment, but at the same time, he didn't rush to respond. The air between you thickened, and the silence began to gain weight. You felt not only observed but, above all, noticed. You had nowhere to hide from his gaze.

Finally, he sighed lightly, and when he spoke, his voice was more sincere than ever before:

"I want to have you close for my own egotistical desires."

You froze, completely surprised by his directness. These were not words full of double meanings, it was the truth—honest and brutal. He looked at you intensely, as though wanting to make sure you understood their meaning.

"It's not about loyalty, nor what you can do for me. I need you here because..." he hesitated for a fraction of a second, which was almost unheard of for him. "Because when you're close, everything feels more bearable."

You didn't know what to say. These words struck you deeply, leaving you in a strange state between relief and embarrassment. The air was thick with smoke. It smelled of it. Everything here smelled of it. The whole factory reeked of burnt residue from the fire, but this... his smell of smoke was different, familiar, and strangely soothing.

"I could say the same about you," you added softly, with slight embarrassment.

What was happening to you? You, who used to freely throw confessions left and right, now felt shy after a single sentence from him. You were definitely lost—completely absorbed by his presence. Just a few minutes ago, he was Silco—the boss, the leader, the formidable player. And now? Now, he was a man in front of you, his feelings like an open wound. With you, he allowed himself a bit of human weakness.

Why was everything happening so fast? It was overwhelming. You had asked him for honesty and time—and he was giving it to you. In his own way. He was confident in what he said and did, and it was this confidence that disarmed you. It showed that his feelings were genuine, even if expressing them was hard for him.

"I'm flattered by the way you look at me, but try to hide it a little more, can you?" he suddenly said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts.

"What? I don't..." A note of surprise sounded in your voice.

He leaned slightly towards you, his voice dropping to almost a whisper:

"You are mine, but don't tempt me like that."

It was so unexpected that it left you confused for a moment longer. It slowly dawned on you what he was doing, because this wasn't the first time he'd said something like that. When conversations became difficult, he returned to what he knew. You understood that, because you did the same. You searched for the past in an uncertain present, but unlike him, you were starting to lose those elements. He used your reactions to him as leverage, allowing him to regain control.

And you let him, because deep down, you preferred him in control of everything—especially you.

"Come on, the longer we stay here, the more we tempt fate," he suddenly became serious.

He threw the cigarette butt to the ground, stamping it out with his boot, then, as if nothing had happened, shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the exit. He didn't check if you were following him. The bastard knew perfectly well that you had nowhere to go, and that certainty allowed him to leave with his head held high as if he hadn't just bared his feelings to you. It was... infuriating.

As soon as his silhouette disappeared behind the door, you felt the weight of the world suddenly fall onto your shoulders. The silence that followed was almost tangible, and the absence of his presence made the surrounding reality feel cold and unfriendly. The air, which just a moment ago seemed soft and light, now burned your lungs, forcing you to take a short, nervous breath.

With him, everything was simple. Yes, you allowed him to guide you, letting yourself be led by every emotion, gesture, or glance that left you powerless, yet filled you with a comforting warmth. With him, you could allow yourself to be vulnerable.

And now? You were left alone with the weight of what had happened. With his words still echoing in your head. With his gaze that ruthlessly exposed you. He didn't need touch to show you belonged to him.

You leaned your back against the cold, uneven wall, thanking it for its chill and hardness. You needed that—a physical proof that everything was real. This wasn't a dream. Silco had changed. And you? You had given him what he'd been waiting for all along. You gave him yourself. You gave him control and power, the very things he craved. No wonder he'd become so confident that day.

"Fuck," you whispered weakly, knowing perfectly well that you didn't mind this turn of events.

The sound of your voice seemed quiet and lonely, yet it filled the entire space. You closed your eyes, trying to calm the chaotic thoughts, but you knew his shadow would remain with you, in your head, deep inside, where it was impossible to shake it off.

Chapter Text

You picked a dance with the devil and you lucked out.

That sentence kept ringing in your head, even though you should have been thinking about something else. About Marcus. About his brazen, almost arrogant attempt to impose conditions on Silco. About what would happen if the situation got out of hand because of his demands. But you couldn’t.

Not because you didn’t understand the gravity of the situation—you understood it perfectly. It was just that… you had no say in this. It wasn’t your problem to solve. Silco would give you an order when the time came, and then you would do what needed to be done. But now? Now, despite yourself, your thoughts wandered completely elsewhere.

Would every return home be like this now? The chaos in your mind grew at an alarming rate. You regretted that the rain had stopped. Although, to cool your heated thoughts, you would have had to dive into the river and stay there all night. It was a tempting thought as you took the longer way back to your place.

The change came quickly, surprisingly quickly. It seemed almost unnatural, but even a brief observation gave you more answers than you thought you'd find. Just a few days ago, he was different. Reserved, almost cautious in every gesture, every look. He kept his distance—not just physically, but emotionally, as if weighing every step for fear of making a false move. And now? Everything was different. Bolder gestures, more intense glances. The way he allowed you to get so close—how close he himself got to you.

What had happened earlier felt like a strike against something that had seemed unshakable. As if everything that your relationship rested on—glances, words, subtle gestures, small provocations—had shattered under the weight of that one moment.

Touch.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until you felt it. And now, once it had appeared, you couldn’t ignore it. You couldn’t forget.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, right? All this time, you had kept your emotions in check, ignored this side of your relationship because it was easier. It was enough to stick to the rule: don’t get physically involved without feelings. Simple. Logical. Effective.

Except now, it didn’t matter. Because the feelings were there—they had been for a long time, even though you hadn’t wanted to admit it for most of the time. And when you finally did, Silco didn’t let you forget, even for a second, what that changed.

And it changes everything.

No, it wasn’t a coincidence. This wasn’t a sudden change. He had waited. Waited for you. For your move. And that terrified you. Because if he waited… it meant that from the very beginning, he knew you would eventually give in. He predicted your reaction, sensed it before you even matured into it. He held back until you gave him a signal—one that couldn’t be taken back. Didn’t that show his respect for you? Respect that held him back from crossing your boundaries, even though he could? Or perhaps it was something much bigger—that intensity of his, which he didn’t even try to hide? Fighting against his feelings was one thing; that was something he faced willingly because he gave you his word. That intensity… damn, you had seen only a small part of it, and yet you felt like it was consuming you whole. What he had kept in check now demanded payment for all the waiting.

Now, more than ever, you realized this wasn’t a game. It never was a game. And he always had control—over you, over the situation. You just allowed it. Or maybe… you always wanted to allow it.

You felt it in every smallest thought that stubbornly returned to him. In every second when you reminded yourself of his gestures, his voice, how he looked at you as if he knew you would stop fighting the moment he touched your skin.

You tried to chastise yourself for all of it. For focusing on something completely different in the face of serious problems. But the truth is, it wasn’t the problem. It was natural. It was instinct. And if Silco felt the same—because you felt he did—nothing would stop that.

You dug your feet firmly into the ground, feeling that otherwise, you would float away. Just the thought that something more might happen made your blood boil in your veins. It wasn’t fear. It was expectation.

When the familiar building loomed ahead, you painfully felt the weight of your fantasies. You were brutally brought back to earth. It was easy to lose yourself in fantasies while wandering through almost empty streets, where every face was a stranger. Here, everyone knew you, and the more observant would immediately see what was brewing. Even if they didn’t know it was about your mutual boss, it was clear from you what you were thinking.

Climbing the wall wasn’t an option due to the irritating bandage. Dragging your legs behind you, you entered like a person, hiding your head in your arms, hoping no one would stop you. You could predict you had exhausted your supply of luck for the year when you saw Sevika waiting for you by the door to your room. She stood against the wall, one leg bent, her shoe leaving a dark mark on the wall, but she clearly didn’t care. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her face bore the mark of heavy exhaustion.

“Let me guess, this can’t wait until morning?” you asked.

She opened her eyes at the sound of your voice. She probably tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

“I never would have agreed to deal with you if I knew how much trouble you’d be,” she said calmly, as if this fact were undeniable.

“Well, thanks,” you replied sarcastically. “What’s so urgent?”

She rubbed her forehead, more tired than irritated.

“Not here,” she sighed. “Are we going to stand here or are you finally going to open the damn door?”

You jerked quickly and reached for the handle. Surprising, since she could barge into your room without any warning and then attack you as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and now she was waiting for an invitation?

Suspicious.

You felt her gaze on your neck as you stepped further into the room and threw your backpack on the floor. Whatever was on her mind made you feel exceptionally uncomfortable.

The silence of the night seemed to fill the small room, except for the muffled sounds of the city coming through the window. She sat heavily in “her” spot, at the table. Leaned back, one arm casually resting on the edge of the chair. Her silhouette, massive and confident, seemed to dominate the limited space. You stared at her, wondering what had prompted this conversation. You hung your jacket on the hook and walked to the bed—the only place where you could sit.

“I don’t know what got into your head, but I see how Silco has changed,” Sevika’s tone was sharp, without a hint of doubt. “You know how long I’ve worked for him? He never allowed himself anything like this before. And now you’re here and… everything is different.”

These words hit you with a force that momentarily took your breath away. You paused mid-motion before sitting down, looking at her with a mix of shock and unease. You should have gotten used to her directness, yet she still managed to surprise you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said calmly, though there was a barely perceptible note of tension in your voice.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, resting her elbows on the counter.

"Why am I not surprised? Do you ever look further than your own hands?"

"Hey, back off," you shot back sharply, irritated by her approach. "If you have a problem, say it straight."

The corner of her mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in her eyes.

"I'm not blind. I saw you two today."

Your body stiffened instinctively, and your gaze reflexively drifted to the side. You knew that movement betrayed more than you wanted, and, of course, Sevika noticed.

"And what exactly did you see?" you asked lightly, trying to give your words a joking tone.

She didn't buy it.

"Silco's showing that he cares. And that never ends well." Her voice was firm, but measured. "People see more than you think. And they start talking."

Those words hit you like a cold shower.

You clenched your jaw, feeling the weight building in your chest. Sevika didn't look away from you, but she didn't press further. She knew your thoughts were already racing at a frantic pace.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" you asked finally, breaking the silence.

Sevika squinted at you, scrutinizing you carefully. There was no hostility in her gaze. Just cold calculation.

"Until today, I was sure you'd chicken out."

"What do you mean?" you scoffed. "Why do you care now?"

"Because what's happening is too strong." Sevika spoke slowly, almost reluctantly. "I've worked with him for a long time. I know when he gets obsessed with something." Her gaze lingered on you, heavy with the responsibility now weighing on you. "Now it's you. But the difference is, you can still walk away."

"Same old story?" you sighed, exhausted. "I'll start doubting you if you say that again."

"Silco won't let you walk away. You know that, right?" Her voice softened, almost sympathetically. "If you're trying to back out, think it over twice. He won't let it all go to waste."

"I'm not trying to back out. Where's that even coming from?" you asked too sharply, irritated by her constant warnings.

Sevika tilted her head, looking for uncertainty in your voice, but all she found was irritation. You felt that she didn't take this seriously. She didn't take your relationship with Silco seriously.

"If you ever stepped outside your world, you'd understand how fast rumors spread. How do you think people will react when the crew notices his behavior? He's not as good at hiding it as he thinks."

"And what? You expect me to believe you're suddenly concerned about my reputation?" you shot back sarcastically.

"Don't flatter yourself," she sneered. "I don't want to watch everything fall apart because you can't keep your hands to yourself."

You remained silent for a moment, trying to digest her words.

"Why are you bringing this up with me?" you asked quietly. "You know it's not just up to me."

Sevika leaned back in her chair. Her hesitation was different now. She wasn't doling out information; she was wondering if you'd be able to handle her words.

"It would be better for everyone if you weren't together." Her tone was strangely empty. "But I know it's a tilting at windmills. You're both too stubborn."

You clenched your jaw, feeling as though her words hit you like a slap. Brutally, even for her.

"And what? You're telling me this because you expect me to suddenly find a solution? You think when I took this job, I had a plan to seduce him?"

Sevika shook her head, smiling crookedly.

"If it were just about that, it would be simpler. But you both, damn it, got yourselves tangled up with a full package of unnecessary feelings. If I can see it, others can too. If you crack under their gaze, you'll leave. And Silco won't swallow that."

You took a deep breath.

"You speak like it's a game. You think I walked into this blindly? You might be surprised, but I don't play with emotions."

Sevika let out a bitter laugh.

"With him, it's always a game," her gaze darkened for a moment. "Usually one whose rules you'll never fully know."

You furrowed your brow, a pang of doubt creeping in. Could she be right?

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but..."

"No, I'm going to keep hammering this into your head until it sinks in," Sevika cut you off firmly. "This isn't something you'll end when it gets too hard. If you don't see that, don't even try reaching for more."

You laughed softly, though there was more exhaustion in it than amusement.

"You know why you're both alike?" You looked at her with a hint of irony. "You give me these strange warnings when it's definitely too late for them."

Suddenly, she stood up, placing her hands on her thighs as if that motion was too much for her. Her figure loomed over you, carrying with it a barely discernible threat about stopping you from trying to find a connection in your work, but her lips remained silent. She was tired and indifferent. As if she'd done her part and passed it on to someone else.

You.

"I have no idea what the hell you two were thinking to start these games right now," she said quietly, her voice drained of emotion. "Your timing sucks. And if you think anyone's going to believe there's more to it than that the boss found a new toy, you're damn naive. When the whispers and jabs start, he won't be their target. So if everything falls apart because you two couldn't keep your hands to yourselves – I'm coming for you first."

As she walked out, leaving you with an overwhelming amount of facts to process, her steps were calm and quiet. She wasn't angry at what was happening. More disappointed – in both of you, maybe mostly in you. She closed the door behind her softly, leaving a void in her wake. Yet her words hung in the air. Too heavy to sleep through.

You shouldn't be doing this.

It was as clear as daylight, but you weren't doing it to prove anything to yourself.

Sevika's words echoed in your mind, heavy, merciless in their simplicity.

You shouldn't. What you had with Silco was hard and required work. It took courage. There were moments when everything seemed impossible to hold onto. But you wouldn't give it up.

And yet, Sevika was right about one thing. To others, it looked completely different. None of his people would believe that Silco, the man who had never allowed himself any sentimentality, suddenly changed the rules for you. It didn't fit into their world. Feelings among criminals? Ridiculous. In a few days, the first remarks would come. The first glances, which would say more than words.

You didn’t care about yourself. You never cared about what people said about you, but Silco… Silco was different. You promised you wouldn’t let your behavior put him in a difficult position. And what if this relationship, this… your arrangement, began to undermine his authority?

You clenched your hands, trying to focus your thoughts, but nothing wanted to fall into place. Normally, you would have gone to the rooftop, where the wind would blow away your doubts, where you could lose yourself in the movement of the city. Now, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

It didn’t work anymore.

You couldn’t find a place where you could think. Where you could… just be.

You sighed heavily, allowing your thoughts to return to him. To how he held you. To how he looked at you. How in his gaze there was nothing accidental. Nothing to hide.

It could be raining now. You needed that.

Like rain, washing away everything unnecessary. Like water, in which you could find solace when the air stopped being enough.

And just like the rain, he casts the dust into nothing.

Silco was the peace you couldn’t find anywhere else.

***

"The factory looked abandoned. At least to those who didn’t know what they were looking at. Old, rusted fences, the gate slightly ajar, as if someone had once forgotten to close it. From the outside, it seemed dark inside, but you knew that most likely everything was happening underground. Everything designed to look like one of many dead places in Zaun, forgotten by everyone.

It was a façade. Destroyed, scorched, but still alive. In these walls, life pulsed. Quiet, hidden, but intense. Chemists, transports, security—on the outside they didn’t exist, but inside, they worked nonstop. And above it all hung the smell of shimmer. Not literally. But standing here, in this place, you knew that somewhere deep inside the building, something was happening that should never see the light of day.

You leaned against the cold wall, crossing your arms. You didn’t know exactly what you were supposed to be doing here. The note was brief—place, time. No explanations.

This was the same factory where the fire had started. Just a few days had passed, and there was almost no trace of the "attack." The bricks hadn't been cleaned, the walls marked with long dark streaks, but the windows looked new. For a random attack, the factory had recovered quickly. Maybe even too quickly for your taste, but it wasn't up to you to judge.

It felt strange to be so close to shimmer after everything. It was the first time since you "recovered." Why had he asked you to come here, knowing exactly how bad your memories with the drug were? Maybe something was wrong, and he needed someone good at eavesdropping? You felt every muscle tense. Instinctively, you checked if your knife was in place and whether you could quickly draw it.

You glanced at your watch. A minute past the time.

Whatever was waiting for you inside, you were late. You didn’t know whether to enter. The command didn’t suggest it. Part of you rebelled against accepting the written words as absolute fact without questioning them. Both he and Sevika had held you to your word that you wouldn't question orders anymore. So you waited impatiently, hoping you wouldn’t be walking into a confrontation with anyone inside.

Then you heard footsteps.

Instinctively, you reached for your weapon, ready to act. In Zaun, a defensive reflex was a survival condition, and this sound didn’t fit the rhythm of normal passersby. Too measured, too sure.

You didn’t flinch, but you prepared yourself internally for anything.

Then the steps stopped right beside you.

You looked to the side. He was standing there, as if he'd always been there, watching you calmly. He didn’t speak immediately. There was no need. You sighed heavily—his entrance with class, full of drama, as usual.

A barely noticeable hand movement—a gesture that could mean anything, but in his case, it meant one thing.

You were supposed to follow him.

It was different, quiet, and calm. You didn’t feel the same tension as you did before meeting Marcus. You stayed a step behind him as you both walked toward the factory. His behavior said nothing, yet this man was ready to walk straight into the heart of a fight, head held high. You might have been more obedient than usual, but it didn’t silence your curiosity.

“Do you think your people are up to something?” you asked quietly.

He stopped halfway through the street, glancing over his shoulder. Your question seemed to surprise him slightly, but he didn’t answer, waiting for further clarification.

“You need someone to check something quietly? You know I could have done this without you, right?”

Whatever was going on in his mind now, it seemed like he was searching for meaning in your words.

“Where did that idea come from?”

You glanced nervously at the building, waiting for an unexpected attack, but your hearing didn’t catch anything out of the ordinary in the surrounding sounds.

“Well, I don’t know? Maybe because this place was just attacked recently?” you said with a hint of irony.

He calmly adjusted the cuffs of his coat, not immediately responding to you.

“Interesting that the first thing you thought of was that you’re walking into another dangerous task. Do you like adrenaline that much?”

Your thoughts were on completely different tracks. You were ready for a fight, possibly some spy action, maybe a little theft. His calmness—even more than usual—didn’t fit what you were thinking. If it wasn’t about that, then what was it about?

“You know, your orders are usually quite brief. I guess it’s normal for me to want to know what we’re getting into?”

“The factory has just been reactivated after the attack. I need to check if everything meets my standards.”

He apparently considered that a sufficient answer. He didn’t wait for your reaction. He stepped closer, confidently reaching for the door. After all, he was in his domain. You quickly closed the distance, not wanting to lose sight of him, but you still didn’t understand your presence here.

Just as you suspected, the building seemed dead at first glance, but you could hear strange sounds beneath you, hard to identify. They could have been voices or machine vibrations. You could feel the heart of this place beneath your feet, hidden from prying eyes. Everywhere smelled of dust, and the air was dry to the limits. You saw barrels piled up, empty bags, and huge crates stacked one on top of the other all the way to the ceiling.

Most of the fire damage had been cleared away, much like outside, but there was still a faint smell of burnt wood. This place wasn’t supposed to be all that important, yet they had dealt with it quite swiftly. A necessity, or an order from a demanding boss?

Silco didn’t spare a gram of attention to the “decor,” immediately moving to the other side of the building. You noticed another set of metal doors leading into the unknown. An unsatisfied curiosity nagged at you beneath your skin, prompting the words to slip from your lips.

“Why did you bring me, actually?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral. “Usually, Sevika accompanies you.”

Silco didn’t glance in your direction. His gaze remained fixed somewhere ahead, but the corners of his lips betrayed a hint of amusement.

“Because I want you to be here,” he answered calmly, as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world, then nonchalantly began descending the stairs hidden behind the doors.

You blinked, surprised by the simple response. You tried to hide your astonishment under a layer of sarcasm.

“I figured as much,” you replied a little too dryly. “But I can’t just follow you around like a loyal puppy. It’s... weird.”

Silco stopped for a moment, and something flickered in his eyes that might have been the shadow of a smile.

“Did you just compare yourself to a dog?” he asked with a tone of amusement.

You felt warmth flood your cheeks. Crossing your arms over your chest, you avoided his gaze.

“It’s not like that...” you muttered, searching for the right words. “It’s just... Sevika has her tasks, and I have mine.”

“Sevika is one of a kind,” he responded more seriously. His voice became firmer, more resolute. “And currently, she’s busy with other things.”

“You want me to supersede her today?” you asked, wanting clarification, though the answer seemed obvious.

“No,” the word came immediately, with a certainty that surprised you. Silco took a step toward you, getting close enough that you could feel his presence. “The world gets bigger every day. I need someone who’s got their head on straight,” he paused for a moment, as if weighing each subsequent word. “You’re the one.”

You froze halfway down the stairs. His words almost sounded like a compliment, but it was hard to believe them. Silco didn’t throw words around lightly—you knew that. And yet... did he really see you as someone he could entrust with more than one mission? It sounded almost like a proposition, like something bigger than just a task.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

He turned toward you, drawn by the tone you’d used. His gaze didn’t leave yours, intense, unyielding.

“I wouldn’t propose it if I didn’t see potential in you,” he said, his tone dropping an octave. “Don’t question my judgment. Understand?”

There was power in his voice that left no room for objection. But in his gaze, there was something more—something that made your heart flutter. Warmth, maybe even care, but expressed in his usual way—firmly and uncompromisingly.

Immediately, the conversation you’d had with Sevika the night before came back to you. You shook your head quickly and took a step back down. This was exactly what you had feared. Suddenly, your words about not being afraid for yourself seemed empty.

“No. Don’t do this,” you replied quietly.

“You don’t have to agree right now,” he added after a moment, his tone softening slightly. “Think it over carefully.”

You watched his back as he passed through the doorway. Upright, proud, confident. What he’d said hadn’t been spontaneous—he must have been thinking about it for some time. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d chosen a rather inconvenient moment to make such an offer.

You hurried after him. The moment you crossed the threshold, the first thing that hit you was the smell—sweet, suffocating, unmistakable. Your body registered it, but nothing more. Somewhere here was shimmer. The relief came swiftly. You had feared the first contact, wondering how you’d react, but clearly, your fears had been unwarranted.

The workers didn’t stop what they were doing when they saw Silco, but their gazes followed you both for a few seconds. At first glance, there seemed to be chaos—constant movement, the sound of metal clanging, muffled conversations. But the deeper you went, the more you noticed the order hidden beneath. Harmony, though buried under layers of dirt and haste, was present. It was surprising, but in a way, satisfying to observe—if one forgot what was actually being produced here.

Your morality had wavered long ago. It was easier to swallow what shimmer did to people because you’d experienced it firsthand. You observed the faces of the workers—tired, focused, often bearing the marks of long hours spent here. How many of them were already addicted? You should have felt sorry for them, but the thought slipped in a different direction. They lived in Zaun. Most of them had been here since birth. They knew the rules, they knew the risks. Shimmer was a drug, but no one shoved it down their throats, no one slipped it to them secretly, no one forced them to take it.

It might sound brutal, even heartless. If you said it aloud, it would sound like a defense of Silco. But wasn’t it the truth? If someone couldn’t function in a place where shimmer was everywhere, maybe they should never have been involved in it.

The fact is, shimmer should never have been introduced. In an ideal world, there would be no place for it. But Zaun wasn't in an ideal world. It was the only way to cut ties with Piltover, the only tool you had to carve out a space for yourselves. The upper city had everything—money, power, guards ready to snuff out any resistance. And what did you have? The ability to instill fear and hope they’d leave you alone.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the hypocrisy. Piltover had plenty to say about morality and order, but when the night fell, the line between the cities ceased to exist. The high-born, scientists, merchants—all those who criticized Zaun by day, crossed the bridges by night, searching for things they couldn’t find in their sterile neighborhoods. Gambling, brothels, illegal fights, and above all—shimmer. Fun for those who could afford it. And then they’d return to their estates, sit in councils, and condemn the dirty dealings of Zaun.

You returned your gaze to Silco, knowing that what you had only noticed recently, he had seen from the beginning and used without hesitation. You didn’t harbor any warm feelings for Piltover. You wondered what would hit them harder—a vision of soldiers fully loaded with shimmer, or the risk of being cut off from the drug.

You stopped by the railing that separated you from the yawning abyss below. Silco rested his hands on the metal structure, looking down at the workers below. You stood a step behind him, knowing that this was what was expected of you. Even better—you preferred he didn’t notice the conflicting emotions churning in your mind.

“Sir? You’re a bit earlier than we expected.”

A muffled voice rang out to your right. You glanced sideways and met the gaze of a clearly tense man, nervously wiping his hands on a rag that was already filthy. Silco didn’t flinch, still observing the space below as though forcing the speaker to reconsider whether they had chosen the right words.

"If you haven't prepared the reports on time, I'll find someone else who can do their job more efficiently," he replied calmly, but with a clear warning in his voice.

The man stiffened. A shadow of concern flickered in his eyes, but he didn't try to explain himself. The way Silco treated his people was vastly different from how he addressed you. Even when you first joined, his tone was never this cold. It was... interesting. And only a little unsettling.

"No, sir. Everything is ready. The samples just haven't been labeled yet."

Silco turned around, his gaze betraying no irritation. Slowly, he removed his gloves and... unexpectedly extended them towards you.

You blinked, slightly thrown off.

A nearly imperceptible shadow of challenge appeared on his face. He waited.

You raised an eyebrow, searching for some sense in this, but his expression remained unreadable. Was he teasing you? Testing you? You couldn't be sure, but you weren't going to question his gesture.

Without a word, you reached for the gloves, maintaining eye contact. His fingers brushed yours, barely noticeable, yet it was enough for a brief pulse to rush through your hand.

Your grip was steady, but something in that tiny gesture made you flinch slightly.

A faint shadow of a smile danced on his lips. Almost invisible. He immediately shifted his attention back to the employee, as if the moment had never happened.

And yet it had.

"Never mind, lead the way," he said emotionlessly.

The man nodded and silently began walking in a direction you didn't recognize. You had no choice but to follow. You were holding his gloves in your hands, and something about them – perhaps the material – made it impossible for you to stop fiddling with them. You'd never held something so delicate.

You descended one floor. The man led you to the end of one of the production lines and left you there alone while he went to retrieve the aforementioned samples. These weren't tasks you were used to. Too little sneaking and observing. You had to be cautious of the smallest gestures from Silco because any of them could mean something. Was this how he was trying to show you what his proposal could entail?

It wasn’t hard, and you could get used to it. You liked working in the shadows, but it had its advantages. One stood next to you, focusing intently on watching his people work. You sighed, realizing that it wasn't just about how others might perceive you when you suddenly took a place next to Sevika.

He was giving you something he shouldn't have. He was giving you a chance. But in this world, a chance wasn't enough.

"You know..." you began quietly. "I appreciate the offer, but you can't give me the respect of others. They won't take me seriously seeing how little I've done. And if they don't understand that, maybe I’ll start to wonder if I deserve it. I don’t want it like this."

He turned around, intrigued by your words. You knew they'd reached him. He analyzed them in silence, probably searching for a flaw in your reasoning, but in his eyes, you saw a glimmer of understanding and respect.

"Your answer is better than I could have expected."

You actually breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, you feared he'd interpret your words as fear or weakness. It was strangely pleasant how the heaviest words were spoken when someone could hear or see you. You felt a quiet moment of understanding between you. You were glad he wasn't trying to convince you otherwise. He had accepted your decision with respect, which was the only proof you needed that Silco truly saw your value—not as a pawn to carry out his will, but as someone who understood the rules of this game and wanted to earn it.

You glanced at him, feeling the unease brought on by Sevika’s words subside and almost disappear. You closed your eyes and leaned against the wall, sensing that you’d be waiting for Silco to finish his tasks more than once that day. The comfort came from hiding in the shadows, away from the harsh lights.

Because of the mutations, your eyes were too sensitive to such bright lights.

Something clattered in the distance. The scent of shimmer grew stronger. You opened your eyes, looking toward the sound, and saw a familiar figure approaching, carrying a small box with several vials. You hadn’t known it since the moment you drank that substance on the roof.

The memories hit like a slap in the face. You straightened, pushing those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time or place for them, but as you watched him carefully inspect the samples he’d brought, you couldn't stop thinking about why he had pulled away at that moment.

"The reports are in the manager's office. Should I bring them?"

Silco waved his hand dismissively.

"No. I'll go there once we finish here," he muttered, focused on reading the labels.

"Understood. Can I do anything else?"

"That's all," he replied, not giving him any more attention.

Is this how Sevika felt? Walking after him step by step, waiting for orders? Although knowing her, she probably socialized with people while keeping an eye on her boss. You moved closer, curious about the samples, even though you had no idea what they really differed in. You definitely wouldn’t be able to be like her.

The man walked away, visibly relieved, leaving you alone. Not once, since you arrived at the factory, had he given you a single glance. To him, you were nothing more than another shadow following Silco.

"What is this, exactly?" you asked, leaning over the contents of the box.

"Should I explain what shimmer looks like to you?" he replied mockingly.

You straightened up, turning your back to the workers. It was the only way you could afford to react freely to his words.

"Sometimes you can be funny," you scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

He responded with a brief grimace before answering.

"These are the first samples after the fire. I won’t release them to the market until I’m sure the parameters are high enough."

You tilted your head, staring at the metal beams above you as if they could distract your thoughts from the boredom that was slowly creeping into the conversation. It was almost absurd how much in Zaun depended on what Silco produced. If he wanted, he could have everyone in the palm of his hand. And yet, the chem-barons still tried to reach for more.

"And what’s the verdict?" you finally asked, not even trying to hide your impatience.

He chuckled softly, barely audible. He pushed the box aside, and then, completely unexpectedly, his hand reached for the collar of your jacket.

You froze.

His fingers, with almost exaggerated ease, brushed off an invisible speck of dust from the fabric.

"Acceptable," he murmured, and there was a soft tone in his voice, clearly distinct from the earlier indifference.

You looked at him in surprise, but he didn’t look away. His hand withdrew lazily, as if stretching that moment by a fraction of a second too long. The skin on your neck tingled as his fingers brushed against it in passing.

A slight movement, a delicate brush – and yet, it was enough to disrupt the distance that should have existed between you. Before you had a chance to think about it, you instinctively followed the touch, slightly leaning toward him.

It wasn’t until you noticed the shadow of approval in his gaze that you realized.

Too late to pull back now.

You didn’t try to pretend. Whatever he saw on your face, you weren’t going to hide it.

"So, what’s next?" you asked, your voice a little different.

He didn’t answer. He took some documents with him, the ones that employee had brought with samples, and headed back toward the stairs leading to the floor above. It was frustrating how easily he moved you from one place to another, knowing you had no choice but to follow him faithfully. You shoved your hands into your pockets, wondering if there was any way to slip away from here sooner.

Your footsteps echoed on the metal steps, betraying your position. Instead of turning toward the stairs leading to the surface, he walked down the corridor, heading deeper into the bowels of the factory. Whatever task Sevika had, you would have gladly swapped places with her.

You reached another door – identical to all the others in this place – but Silco didn’t hesitate and chose the right direction. He entered without knocking, as if the space had always belonged to him. You closed the door behind you, instinctively looking around the interior.

What hit you immediately was the lack of windows. The bright lights didn’t manage to disperse the heavy atmosphere. On the contrary – in this sterile light, everything seemed even more overwhelming. Aside from a lone desk with a crooked chair and a row of metal cabinets to the right of the entrance, there was nothing here. A raw, lifeless place. Suddenly, you longed for the couch in Silco’s office.

Meanwhile, he approached the desk, casually tossing his coat onto the back of the chair. He reached for the documents, entirely focused. You rarely saw him like this – immersed in work, unaware of your presence. Usually, when you appeared, all his attention was on you. But today, you hadn’t come with information or to argue. You could observe him without his awareness, and you didn’t deny yourself the pleasure.

His slightly hunched shoulders. Long, slender fingers gliding over the papers. The faint creases on his forehead as he analyzed something. And then something you hadn’t noticed so clearly before – silver streaks at his temples. If it had been someone else, you might have thought it was a sign of exhaustion, of age, but with him… it added to his gravitas. His authority. Something that pulled you in too strongly, something that hit desires you hadn’t known until you met him.

You caught yourself staring too long. Suddenly flustered, you felt an inexplicable wave of anxiety. What had he seen in you that made him allow you to be this close?

You moved closer and sat on the edge of the desk, preparing for a long wait in silence. You pushed a few folders aside to avoid sitting on them. Silco, without taking his eyes off the papers, gestured toward one of them – the same one you had just moved.

“Give me that.”

His tone was different – demanding, though devoid of anger. You reached for the folder almost mechanically, as if this wasn’t the first such request from him. There was a note of impatience in your movement, but you didn’t let it show.

"So, what, now I’m your assistant?" you asked with a touch of irony, trying to mask the slight tension in your voice.

Silco paused his work and lifted his gaze to you, his eyebrows raised slightly, a thin, amused smile tugging at his lips. He looked as though you had just said something exceptionally funny, though he wasn’t about to burst into laughter.

"Would you like that?" he asked calmly, his tone both a question and a challenge.

"Me and documents? Seriously?" You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the gesture. The absurdity of his question left no room for a serious response.

Silco only answered by extending his hand, holding a few sheets of paper. He looked at you expectantly. You took them hesitantly, still not fully understanding what the purpose of this scene was. He didn’t take his eyes off you, studying every move you made.

"Try it. You might like this role," he said quietly, but you sensed a hint of provocation in his voice. As though he was testing how much more you could endure.

You flipped through the documents, but the sight of tables and numbers almost immediately bored you. This wasn’t a test of your skills. He didn’t expect you to suddenly understand his business from a few charts. You set them aside almost immediately.

"This is definitely not my thing," you said with a light sigh, not hiding your relief at not having to struggle with it any longer.

Silco observed your struggle with a gentle, almost soft smile, but his gaze was piercing. There was something in that smile that made you feel like you were under scrutiny, as if he was analyzing every detail of your reaction.

"You’re right. You’re a fighter, not a subordinate employee." It came suddenly, unexpectedly. Right to the point. Words that confirmed who you were, while also reminding you that in his eyes, you were more than just an assistant.

For a moment, you remained silent, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Compliments were never your strong suit, especially when they came from someone like Silco – someone who weighed every word he said. You looked away, trying to hide your slight embarrassment.

"Why do you need a fighter today, when I have no one to fight?" you asked, trying to lighten the seriousness of the situation. Your words were provocative, but there was a note of uncertainty in your voice.

Silco straightened up, looking at you calmly, but there was something more beneath the surface.

"Do you need action to spend time with me?"

You instinctively wanted to turn his words into a joke, but the tone of his voice and the intensity of his gaze froze you for a moment. There was honesty in those words that was both confusing and overwhelming.

"That’s it? I’m here because you need company?" you asked quietly, almost automatically. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to hear the answer.

"Is that so surprising?" he said softly, almost casually, but his eyes betrayed something completely different.

He reached for the same documents you had dismissed earlier, as if trying to focus on something other than the growing tension in the air. He flipped through the pages with apparent indifference, but you could feel his attention still focused on you.

"After the attack, I’m required to take a personal interest in this place. Too many people are watching my every move. The fire, though intentionally caused, will affect shimmer production. Someone will suffer, losing money," he continued quietly, his voice carrying a noticeable fatigue. "I don’t like repeating myself. You’re not here because I have a specific task. Time isn’t on our side, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you."

His words hit you harder than you expected. You remained silent, trying to collect your thoughts, but they scattered in all directions. Silco returned to his reports as if the subject was closed.

“Although it would be easier that way,” he continued calmly. “If you had accepted the offer, I would have you by my side all the time. But I know it’s not just up to me. I know it wouldn't be enough for you,” he added after a moment, without hesitation. “You’re too good at what you do to be locked in a single room. Still, my offer stands; we can modify it to suit you.”

You were taken aback by his honesty, not only sharing his feelings but also drawing you deeper into the underworld full of drugs. His openness startled you because it came so instinctively from him. You didn’t know how to react when he showed you this softer side of himself, which he usually kept hidden.

"Alright, if I help you, will we get out of here faster?"

He laughed lightly, amused by your frustration. He put the papers down and looked at you more intently, as if assessing whether there was more to your offer than just wanting to escape.

“Losing patience so quickly?” he asked quietly, his voice lowering, calm but challenging. “You don’t mind watching the target for hours, but you can’t stand a few minutes here?”

“That’s more than a few minutes, in my opinion,” you replied quietly, trying to find the last remnants of your rationality that had suddenly slipped away.

Silco moved closer. He placed his hands on the desk, on either side of your legs. His shoulders suddenly became your prison. His gaze held you in place, but you wouldn’t have fled even if you had the chance.

“I can give you another task, one that requires more... action,” he murmured, his voice lowering a tone, and his gaze became even more intense.

You knew what he meant. Something deep inside you almost screamed to surrender, to make the move you had both been waiting for, but this was neither the place nor the time. You tried to look away, but his gaze pulled you in like a magnet. He was relentless, as if waiting for the slightest sign of your weakness. For a moment, you hesitated, but only to surprise yourself.

Your hand slowly rose. You brushed his arm, unable to suppress a soft sigh when you felt the delicate fabric. But gentleness wasn’t your language. You reached further. Your fingers tightened around the silk of his tie, and then, with a decisive movement, you grabbed it just below his neck. Silco, usually composed, seemed stunned for a split second.

You pulled him closer, shortening the remaining distance between you. The surprise on his face was immediate – you saw his jaw muscles tighten, and his eyes widened for a moment before focusing back on you. But what happened next shocked you even more.

Silco didn’t protest. He surrendered to the movement, allowing you to take control of the situation. He let you pull him closer, and when your faces were only a few centimeters apart, his breath slowed, deepening. You could feel the warmth emanating from him, and you saw his eyes darken even further, as if in one gesture, you had undermined all of his self-control.

“Brave move,” he whispered, and his voice, still low and rough, revealed something more – something you couldn’t fully understand. Maybe it was fascination. Maybe admiration. Or maybe just pure desire. “You know this is playing with fire, right?”

You wanted to respond, say something, but the words caught in your throat. His gaze – full of tension, yet hidden chaos – made you feel the weight of your gesture. Had you just done something that threw him off balance more than you were ready for?

“I know,” you finally managed to say, but your voice was weak, almost trembling. You noticed his lips twitch in something resembling a smile – though it was more predatory than joyful.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a barely audible whisper that pierced you through. He tilted his head slightly, and his face was now so close you could see every fine line on his skin, every spark in his eye. In that moment, there was no game. No mask. It was just him – Silco, completely exposed in his reaction to your bold move.

You felt his hands, still resting on the desk, shift slightly. He moved them closer, allowing for a bolder touch while also reducing your confinement. He didn’t need to say anything more – you could see in his eyes that what you had done had worked. More than you could have imagined.

His eyelids lowered slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were fighting a desire he had been trying so hard to hide.

“You never stop surprising me,” he murmured, his voice now deeper and rougher, filled with something he could no longer control.

But this time, he didn’t pull away. He stood still, his hands still resting on either side of your hips, trembling slightly. He allowed you to take control of the moment, as if purposely testing who would back down first.

Your heart beat so loudly and quickly that you were sure Silco could hear it. The words you were about to speak got stuck in your throat when you noticed he was ready to go as far as he needed to satisfy that desire. The tension between you had taken on an almost tangible form. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just broken an invisible rule, shaking his world more than you had ever anticipated. A small movement was all it took for your lips to brush together, but neither of you made that move.

You felt his scent around you, saturating you to the core. It seeped into your senses. You licked your dry lips involuntarily. His gaze followed the movement. You thought it was over, that he would be the first to give in. Damn, you missed his taste more than you thought.

Suddenly, there was an uncertain knock at the door. The sound was quiet, as if the person on the other side hesitated to interrupt this moment.

Silco growled quietly, his gaze still fixed on your face, but the tension between you was broken. Slowly, he turned his head towards the door, and his voice, though low, sounded like ice-cold steel:

“This is a very bad time.”

There was a brief silence behind the door before the man on the other side dared to respond:

“S-Sorry, sir. It’s… it’s Margot. She says she needs to speak with you urgently.”

At the sound of her name, Silco straightened, his face expressing a mixture of irritation and frustration. He sighed deeply, as if forced to abandon something that had required all his attention.

“Tell her to wait,” he said firmly, his tone sharp as a razor.

“She… insists, sir,” came the reply from behind the door, this time even more uncertain.

Silco gritted his teeth, and his hand mechanically slid over the tie you had just been holding, as if trying to restore order.

"Fine, bring her in," he said with cold certainty, his gaze briefly returning to you. "We’re not finished," he added quietly, almost threateningly, before turning toward the door.

You tried to hide your surprise, but you couldn’t prevent a slight raise of your brow. You noticed how the tension in his body hadn’t disappeared, and his eyes still revealed something that hadn’t had a chance to be spoken.

"Let her in."

Your hands trembled slightly, and your thoughts raced at a frantic pace. You knew you had crossed a line—but strangely, you also knew that Silco had accepted it. Unfortunately, as usual, time was not on your side, but maybe that was exactly what provoked this game between you.

You jumped down to the floor, forcing yourself to regain composure, but it was impossible. Not when you still had the sensation of the fabric between your fingers. You hid your hands behind you, tightly clasping them together.

Margot belonged to the elite group of the most influential people in Zaun. If your memory served you correctly, she owned most of the city's brothels, including those frequented by people from the upper city. But like everyone else, she wouldn’t have risen to the top without Silco’s help. And now she demanded a meeting. It was fascinating how much arrogance those who owed their rise to him displayed.

You had never seen her, so your perception of her remained open. But as soon as she entered, you felt two strong personalities clash in the air, making you suddenly seem ridiculously small.
She scrunched her nose at the sight of the primitive decor, as though being in such a place was almost an insult to her. Upon entering, she paused for a brief moment, her gaze narrowing in assessment. Her eyes slid over you, stopping for a second—just long enough for you to feel the weight of her stare. How much was she able to read from you?

"What brings you here?" Silco broke the silence.

She ignored him. Instead, she walked toward you. There was something about her steps—something fluid, predatory, almost feline. Had you just become the prey?

You instinctively straightened up, lifting your chin with the defiance you had learned to cultivate. You felt Silco’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her. Her light hair shimmered in the harsh light, and the dark makeup only highlighted the sharpness of her gaze. You were sure she saw everything—every hidden tension, every thought that hadn’t yet surfaced.

"You’re pretty," she said softly, her voice carrying something sharp, like a razor's edge. "With that face, you’d make more with me."

You inhaled sharply. Surprise came first, but it quickly gave way to pure disgust. It was... degrading. You looked at Silco, but he wasn’t even looking at you. He wasn’t going to intervene. He was just waiting for Margot to say what had really brought her here.

You didn’t respond. And she probably didn’t expect you to. You felt not like a person, but like a potential commodity she could take, if only she wanted to.

She stepped back, releasing you from her gaze.

"I was curious when you’d finally get interested in production," she tossed out as if she had already forgotten about you.

You were dismissed. Suddenly irrelevant. You sighed in relief, but something inside still gnawed at you. Silco immediately distanced himself, as though what had almost happened between you no longer mattered. Margot could say whatever she liked, and he didn’t even flinch. You didn’t expect him to defend you—he wasn’t the type to do that without cause. He knew you had enough sharpness in your tongue to handle it yourself.

But she was one of the chem-baroness.

And you remembered that when you met Finn, he had stood by your side.

Why wasn’t he doing it now?

Margot ran a finger along the edge of the desk, eyeing the documents with feigned indifference. The atmosphere in the room grew thick, carrying something unspoken, and Margot sensed it. She raised an eyebrow, as if confirming her intuition.

"Shimmer is more valuable than you think. It allows not only for building influence but also for crossing boundaries that normally can’t be crossed." Margot spoke freely, but there was an underlying note of satisfaction in her tone. "It opens certain... possibilities. People are eager to share information when they’re on the right high. And I always know what to do with good information."

She waited, ready to catch even the slightest reaction. Silco, however, didn’t take the bait. He passed her and approached the desk, uninterested in the important production documents lying carelessly on top. You saw how his fingers traced along the line of his jaw. He seemed indifferent to her words, though you saw it differently—the almost imperceptible tightening of a muscle at the corner of his mouth, the brief pause before he responded.

"The supplies won’t stop, if that worries you."

Margot smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"Oh, I’m sure they won’t. But you know, it works both ways." She leaned in slightly, as if making him an almost intimate offer. "Your men... well, they also benefit from my services. Keeping their loyalty isn’t just about money, is it? If certain pleasures become unavailable to them... they might start looking elsewhere. And then it’s harder to control them."

Her words fell heavily in the air, but Silco didn’t even flinch. He didn’t need to. You saw it, though—the almost invisible movement of his fingers on the desk, as if he had clenched his hand too tightly around its edge and stopped just in time. His voice was calm, almost polite, as he replied:

"That’s an interesting observation."

Margot blinked slowly, stretching her lips into a lazy smile, like a cat stretching its claws. She straightened up and looked at you, holding your gaze a little longer than necessary. You felt as though she were dissecting the situation and then, for her own amusement, deciding to interfere with it.

"If you get tired of working for him, you know where to find me."

You felt irritation, sudden and hot, but you smothered it almost immediately. Your lips twitched, as if you were about to reply, but you stopped yourself at the last second. You didn’t even know what bothered you more—the proposal itself, or the fact that Silco still wasn’t reacting. As though it didn’t matter to him.

"I’m not interested in that kind of work," you answered firmly, your voice sharp.

Margot chuckled, as though your reaction amused her. She didn’t say anything more. She turned on her heel and headed for the door, leaving behind palpable tension. When the door closed, a heavy silence fell over the room. Returning to what had been before was impossible.

Silco remained silent, staring at the documents as though he hadn’t noticed what had just happened. His earlier focus, the intensity you had felt in every look, every small gesture—was gone. As if nothing had ever happened between you. As if what he had shared with you just moments ago was nothing but an illusion.

You weren’t stupid. You saw that the tension in him hadn’t dissipated, even after Margot left. But it didn’t matter. Not when he could so easily detach and cut himself off from what had just occurred.

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to appear indifferent. If he could do it, so could you.

But it still hurt more than it should have.

Chapter Text

After she left, the air felt as heavy as the very bottom of the Lanes.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the door. It was as if she was about to come back, adding more fuel to the fire. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was full of the emotions still lingering in the air after the last words.

This unusual, somewhat absurd scene didn’t last more than fifteen minutes. Yet, it felt like you’d been frozen under her gaze for hours. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. Why bother thinking about her? You hadn’t bent under Finn’s judgment, even though the man had more reasons to torment you than Margot, so why the difference?

Maybe because it was about Silco. And what had just happened a few minutes ago. Could Margot have guessed? Did your reaction give her any answers?

You shifted your gaze to him, the feeling that your thoughts were echoing off the walls. Silco seemed focused on his work, but you knew him well enough to recognize that glazed look. He wasn’t even looking at the documents in front of him, his mind clearly elsewhere. Had Margot’s words affected him? You knew shimmer was important—people grew aggressive and demanding when the threat of being cut off from it loomed over them.

It seemed irrational—but that was exactly why it worked. Even though Silco was the one in control, he couldn’t afford to let the game end. He had to consider everyone—from those distributing shimmer to those who couldn’t imagine a day without it. They needed him, but paradoxically, he was dependent on them. What good is a drug if there are no addicts?

What good is power if there is no one to control?

It was only after a few minutes that he finally looked at you, his voice calm as if he’d just returned to reality.

“Margot’s words hold no weight. She sees what she wants to see.”

What did that mean, you wanted to ask. Was she seeing problems with production and trying to climb higher on the supply chain, or was she seeing you? Was he talking about work or about you? Something struck you as you looked at his back, more hunched than usual. Did that mean Silco didn’t want Margot—or anyone else—to see?

You didn’t have an answer, only more questions. As usual. Just when you thought you were starting to understand this place, you were pushed onto a new track, with no time to prepare. You wanted to give yourself time, to give you both time to adjust to the new reality, but that wasn’t possible in these conditions. It was frustrating that every moment was being taken from you, but he’d said there was no other reality. It was just a shame that it was so bitter.

Silco suddenly set his pen down, almost throwing it, and slowly straightened up. He ran his fingers through his hair, betraying a hint of nervousness, despite his face revealing nothing.

“It’s time to get back to work. We can’t afford any downtime.”

You raised an eyebrow, slightly thrown off by the order. You watched him closely, feeling as though you were starting to glimpse something in the cracks of the mask he’d put on for Margot, but it still eluded you. You were at work. You were always at work. So what exactly did he mean?

Suddenly, Sevika’s words came back to you. Was this what she meant? About those… downtimes that could destroy everything? You pursed your lips. You hadn’t started this moment, but you hadn’t interrupted it either, ready for more—as you always were when he came near. You didn’t want to be strong, you wanted to give in, but how could you look at yourself in the mirror knowing Sevika was damn right?

Since you had to get back… You saw him extend his hand toward you. Your heart beat faster at the sight, but you remembered that you still had his gloves. You clenched your fist around them, not wanting to let go, but it wasn’t an option. You reached to return them. For a moment, your hands hovered in the air, almost touching. Seconds of hesitation. A moment before letting go.

Finally, you relaxed your grip, but quickly averted your gaze, hoping he hadn’t read the words that were pushing themselves to your lips. How many more times would you have to give him back before you were truly yours?

You knew he would never be fully yours. There was no understanding in that, just a grim, painful realization that you’d always have to give him away. Zaun always comes first, right?

The factory echoed with voices and machines, but between you, there was silence, slowly giving way to understanding. You walked a step behind him. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but suddenly it hit you with full force.

You were behind him.

You’d always be one step behind him.

He saw more, thought faster, noticed connections you hadn’t even begun to perceive. Every action he took had a purpose, but you couldn’t always decipher it. And now, as you looked at his back—straight, head held high with familiar confidence—something about his movements seemed different. Stiffer. Restrained, though there wasn’t the slightest hint of hesitation in him.

This wasn’t confidence, it was necessity.

Rules.

They were what held him back.
You were starting to see what Sevika had meant. You knew Silco as the man who forced obedience, broke others, and made them submit to his vision. You hadn’t thought he’d ever step back from anything. But now… now you saw that something was holding him back.

For you, he broke his rules.

But what did that matter, when he’d never revealed the rules of the game to you?

You didn’t know when he did it. You didn’t know if he would do it again.

You didn’t even know if he allowed himself to.

Zaun always comes first. And that dictated his steps, no matter how much you wished he would stop for you, just once.

Outside, you were met with a gloomy, gray day. You weren’t angry with him—it would be entirely unjustified. But you felt something inside you collapse. Maybe it was the realization that Silco was a prisoner of his own rules. Maybe it was the realization that despite all his strategies and plans, in this one thing… he was powerless.

No, that didn’t scare you. You didn’t treat it as a foundation for your actions. He was a man, too. You’d often wondered how the hell he still managed to get up every day. You wouldn’t blame him if he ever broke—if he allowed himself a moment of weakness, something that would prove he hadn’t lost his humanity completely.

You were ready to be the strength he would need if he ever ran out.

But Silco didn’t need weak people.

He didn’t need weakness.

His. Yours. None.

He suddenly stopped in front of you. He turned and looked at you, waiting for you to join him. He had always waited for you.

His eyes silently searched your face. He was looking for something in you, something he had lost some time ago.

"I will find you."

You stopped two steps ahead of him. You weren’t sure what those words truly meant. Would he find you to give you a new task? Would he find you because he truly wanted to find you?

You slowly nodded, unsure of what you had just confirmed.

But did it even matter?

You trusted him.

Whatever he was planning, you wanted to be part of it.

***

You had the feeling that you were thinking about shimmer too often.

You had just gotten out of the addiction—it shouldn’t concern you so much. And yet, it lodged inside you like a splinter. Maybe because you almost lost your life fighting against the half-made substance. Maybe because shimmer left a mark on you, something you would probably never get rid of.

Mutations were useful—more than once they saved your skin. Maybe that was the trap? Maybe the addiction didn’t start with the drug itself, but with what it gave you. The awareness that suddenly you were stronger, faster, more precise. That you had control over yourself. And then you wanted to feel that every day and fall into the abyss that not everyone could escape from.

Did those who took it voluntarily feel the same? Maybe it wasn’t about weakness, but about the simple need. The need to strengthen yourself to do something better. To feel better.

It was a trap. A prison. You knew that better than others. If it hadn’t been for Zarys, you would have been dead by now. You managed to break free, so you no longer viewed the world through the prism of shimmer. But not everyone wanted to escape. The everyday life in Zaun was enough reason to lose yourself in ecstasy. You didn’t blame those who reached for whatever allowed them to survive another day. Not everyone was strong enough. But that could change, right?

Sometimes you had to hit rock bottom to know how much strength you needed to rebound.

Zaun had long been at the bottom, crushed by Piltover. But rising higher wasn’t that simple.

Someone would always be addicted to shimmer—if not directly, then indirectly. Not only those who took it, but also those who profited from it. Information, power, strength—everything revolved around shimmer. Silco built his empire on it, but that empire had foundations of chains. Bonds that even he couldn’t break, because he wasn’t the one holding them.

You returned to yourself reluctantly, your head swirling and without a single clear idea of how to make sense of it all. For a moment, you hoped it would start raining, that the weather would be on your side, but nothing came of it.

Margot was one of many. She didn’t care who was behind the attack—it only mattered that the deliveries didn’t stop. It was unsettling that she knew when to appear at the factory to try to demand something for herself. But that was how it worked. In Zaun, everyone knew everything about everyone, pretending to be one step ahead of the rest.

Silco had said that too many eyes were watching him. He didn’t seem surprised that Margot found him even there. Maybe, like you earlier, she felt overwhelmed when she entered the Last Drop. Or maybe she just wanted to surprise him.

She was confident and intrusive to the point of being annoying, but her sweet threats were underlined with fear. She held her head high, but it only took one glitch in production for her to run to Silco, expressing her displeasure. You kicked a small stone on the path, smiling bitterly. Served her right. Maybe she should feel firsthand that even as a chem-baron, she was dependent on Silco.

And who wasn’t?

His greatest threat could be those whose money and influence depended on shimmer. They were dependent on him, but ready to replace him at any moment if he stopped meeting their terms.

And on top of all that, there was Marcus.

He demanded a culprit. If Silco didn’t give him something worth attention, the guards would enter the city. You didn’t believe Marcus would go that far, but if the order came from the Council, he wouldn’t have a choice. It was a straight path to riots.

And the people?

They would blame Silco. He was the one who kept the guards at bay. If this arrangement fell apart, he would lose some of his power. His authority would be undermined.

And then they would see him as someone who couldn’t handle the situation.

That couldn’t happen.

You didn’t feel strong enough to face the stares of people in the building. The climb to the top was simple, familiar. True, climbing onto the roof wasn’t as fun as it once was, but it was all you had left. You wanted to approach this like others did, leave the thinking to them, but you couldn’t. Not when you knew more than they did. Was that why Silco offered you more? Because he saw that commitment?

You climbed onto the roof like it was your own, knowing no one would find you here. Even your room wasn’t safe anymore. At any moment, Sevika could drag you out of it. You weren’t ready for more tasks; you needed at least a moment of respite from all of this because you felt everything around you growing bigger and more dangerous.

And you? You felt small and powerless in the face of it all. This was a high-level game—not a game of hide and seek, but a fight for survival. Your life, your work.

Your thoughts went back to Silco’s proposal. His offer could mean many things. You had no illusions—some wouldn’t accept your position, wouldn’t trust you. Would they suddenly see you as someone just below Sevika? No, it wouldn’t work that easily. You weren’t a leader. You couldn’t lead people.

What did it even mean that he would adapt it for you? You scoffed irritably. You pulled your legs to yourself and reached into your backpack for the small case with your tools. You had to keep your hands busy. Shouldn’t you be the one to adapt to him? How did he see it? You were a spy—how were you supposed to work in the shadows while also being in plain sight?

And yet… you could learn a lot. Not only from him but also from Sevika. Somehow building your position in the world you had only recently belonged to. Having a role in… all of this. You sighed, pushing aside the half-cleaned lockpicks. You were a fighter, but you hadn’t lost your mind. Accepting the rules didn’t make you a mindless subordinate. Silco knew you wouldn’t stop scheming, but you wouldn’t move without permission. Maybe he was giving you a chance because he wanted to direct your zeal in this way? How could he control even your recklessness? How, when even you couldn’t?

No, this wasn’t a decision you could make right away. First, you had to deal with Marcus. Then you’d think about it.

You lay on your back, looking at the overcast sky. It was easy to stay in this place. To disappear from sight and return only when the chaos in your head had calmed enough for you to continue working. But you didn’t have another reality. Either you gave it your all, or nothing.

You get what you give, you reap what you sow.

That’s the only way you’ll prove your worth.

You packed your few belongings into your backpack and started heading down to the room. You threw the backpack on the ground, looking at the modest decor. So much had happened here that you could almost hear the echoes of past conversations in the air.

It was actually a good time to rest. You approached the wardrobe to stow away unnecessary gear. You tossed the backpack onto the floor when something thudded against the wood. You bent down curiously and saw a weapon lying at the bottom. You’d forgotten about it. It was the same one Sevika had shoved into your hands. You picked it up slowly, no longer feeling the resentment you had barely a few days ago. You weighed the weapon in your hand. It felt heavy, but the additional weight came from Sevika’s words that day.

You were given it to fight Silco’s enemies. You should start carrying it with you. Keep it close just in case, show that you aren’t defenseless.

“Why not?” you whispered to yourself.

You strapped it to your belt, and its weight anchored you more firmly to the ground. You felt more confident having it with you. The building was almost empty, more people would come only in the evening. You considered it the perfect moment to work on your shooting skills.

Walking down the corridor leading to the shooting range, you noticed that one of the rooms was, as usual, occupied by a group of loud people. You passed them silently, focused on your goal. You were relieved to find the range empty. You preferred not to have an audience. If anyone was going to believe you weren’t afraid of confrontation, you had to feel confident holding it in your hand. You turned off the lights halfway, making it a bit harder for yourself, but if you could hit the target under these conditions, you’d be able to hit anything.

You wasted a few rounds before your shots started to hit closer to the center. Your hand was trembling from the force of the shots. You placed the weapon on the shelf in front of you and massaged your wrist. You heard the door open, letting in a lot of light. You glanced over your shoulder and saw a small group, consisting of three men and one woman. You had no idea who they were, and you didn’t care.

You reached for a new magazine to reload when you suddenly saw an unfamiliar hand resting on the counter in front of you. You looked at the owner, surprised by such an intrusion into your personal space. You didn’t step back. You stared at him, genuinely confused.

“Nice. Can I try shooting?”

You glanced at the weapon in your hand and shrugged.

“What, don’t you have one of your own?”

A strange grunt came from the others. You glanced at them. They were watching with anticipation, as though something was about to happen.

The man snorted under his breath, and his hand slid a little closer to your weapon. He stopped just near it but didn’t touch it. Not yet.

“I do. But yours seems to fit better in the hand.”

You looked up at him, feeling a quiet warning in yourself that if that hand moved just a little further, something would happen. He didn’t have the gleam in his eye that indicated he was looking for a real confrontation. He was the type who lived for cheap provocations, hoping to get some kind of reaction from you, maybe insecurity. Anything that would give him the upper hand.

Weakness.

He had no idea he was looking for it in the wrong place.

Your fingers tightened around the handle of the knife on your thigh. You pulled it out quickly and without notice, and before his brain fully processed your move, the cold blade brushed the inside of his hand, threateningly, but not yet causing injury. You saw all the tension pass over his face, how the smile disappeared, replaced by something that certainly hadn’t been part of his plan—fear.

“I can show you what I can do if you’re curious.”

You leaned in slightly, keeping the blade exactly where it should be. He swallowed slowly, his eyes started to nervously calculate. He hadn’t expected such a response.

No one ever expected it.

You didn’t back up even a millimeter.

“Don’t put your fingers where they don’t need to be, or you might lose them.”

You didn’t need to add anything more. After all, what else was there to say?

The man withdrew his hand with feigned nonchalance, but you saw how his fingers were slightly trembling.

“Alright, alright, chill.”

He turned on his heel and hurried back to his group. This time, there was no laughter. They all watched you in silence, as if they had suddenly seen something they hadn’t noticed before.

You placed the knife next to you as a warning, so none of them would try playing games with you again. Fortunately, they left quickly, leaving you in peace. You reached for your weapon, fully ready to get back to your training. Something felt off. You sighed heavily, feeling your focus slipping away. You leaned your hands against the counter in front of you. It was unnecessary. But maybe it was better if the rumor spread that you had something off about you. You smiled wryly at your own joke. You were tired of everything going on around you, and that group only made your mood worse.

Suddenly, you dropped the knife on the floor. As you bent down to pick it up, you saw a shadow in the doorway. You rolled your eyes, hoping the guy hadn’t come back for more excitement. You lifted your head and saw not him, but Sevika.

She was watching you, not breaking eye contact, with her unreadable expression. Finally, she raised an eyebrow and stepped away from the doorframe, approaching you. Her steps were fluid, light, as if she were in a good mood for once.

“Stop scaring people, or there won’t be anyone left to work.”

You gave her a brief look but didn’t respond, reloading your weapon and aiming at the target again.

“If that scared them, maybe they shouldn’t work here,” you retorted snidely.

It didn’t surprise you that she had witnessed the incident. Sevika twirled the blade of her knife between her fingers, silent for a while. You didn’t ask how much she’d seen, but her slight smile told you she’d seen enough. Finally, you heard her voice again, this time more serious:

“Silco has a meeting with Finn. He wants you there.”

You stopped mid-motion but didn’t let your surprise show. Sevika crossed her arms over her chest, as if purposely giving you a moment to process this information.

“Tonight. So maybe don’t waste the whole day scaring idiots.”

You didn’t comment. It was enough to see the shadow of approval in her eyes before she turned and disappeared behind the door. You watched her leave, contemplating her words. You weren’t worried about facing Finn again. You didn’t know what use your presence would be, but you didn’t question the decision. Even if you had to stay silent the whole time, it would be worth it just to see his stupid expression when Silco’s conversation overwhelms him.

But first, training.

You imagined Finn's face while shooting, and suddenly, none of the bullets went outside the center of the target.

***

You watched Last Drop from above, staring at the pulsing lights casting pale blue reflections on the wet cobblestones. They always acted like a magnet to people—drawing in those looking for something, even if they weren't sure what it was. You weren’t any different.

You could just walk inside and wait for him in the office. That’s what any reasonable person would do. But you couldn’t. Not before meeting Finn. You had to clear your mind. You had to calm down.

But it was almost impossible.

Silco had said it himself—actions matter, not words. In his world, it was choices that counted, not empty declarations. He had suddenly made his offer to you, giving you more than you could have expected at your position. His behavior contradicted his own rules. He didn’t openly admit that something connected you—that scared you, because you feared he never would. But as you got closer to him, he’d step back, almost as if afraid you’d cross a line he couldn’t set himself. And at the same time, he offered you a place by his side.

You couldn’t reconcile that.

There was something terrifyingly methodical about him—he could switch from the cold leader to a desire so intense it almost burned you with a look, and then return to his distance as if nothing had happened. For some reason, you thought that if you followed him, you’d eventually find order in it. That you’d adjust to his rhythm instead of just being moved from place to place. But you had no idea where you were supposed to stand.

Maybe there was no sense in it. Maybe you should do what he did—pull away when necessary, not ask questions. Maybe that’s all you could get. You felt Sevika’s words echo back to you like a curse or mockery. Had you really thought through what it meant to get involved with him? Silco hadn’t said it outright, but maybe he expected you to learn to juggle emotions the way he did, watching every word?

But you weren’t a machine he could control. You couldn’t even control the feelings tearing you apart. Should you just give in? Surrender yourself completely, letting him control not just your behavior, but your feelings as well?

And if you did—could you accept that?

You walked inside, knowing that in one way or another, you had already made your decision, but voicing it out loud would be a firm seal on your fate. You could do it, agree, but not before meeting Finn. The chaos in your head shouldn’t—couldn’t—affect what was about to happen.

As you climbed the stairs, it felt like the world disappeared for a moment. It was an interesting sensation when you glanced behind you and saw people consumed by fun. Yet ignorance was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

Would something be different when you crossed this threshold? After what had happened earlier? It was a weak thought, and you blocked it out, but deep down, you quietly hoped for more. Something that would show you that he hadn’t completely withdrawn, that the Silco who looked at you as if he wanted nothing more was still there.

You reached for the doorknob and froze for a moment upon hearing the conversation from the other side. You suppressed the feeling of disappointment when you saw Sevika. Their gazes shifted to you, but you hadn’t interrupted anything particularly important. Silco merely acknowledged your arrival and returned to reading whatever he had in front of him. You couldn’t read his look, but Sevika was clearly assessing every move you made. You thought you saw something like surprise on her face, but you could’ve been mistaken—his office was always dimly lit.

The silence stretched a bit too long. Sevika was the first to break it:

“I hope no one lost any limbs unnecessarily?” she remarked, her voice tinged with amusement.

You responded with a smile, though it was dryer than mocking. You weren’t amused by what you’d done, but at that moment, you saw no other option. These people spoke one language; if you’d acted too soft, they’d walk all over you.

“What’s the plan?” you cut the topic short.

There was something strange hanging in the air, but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. It was Sevika’s careful gaze that unnerved you, making you aware of every gesture you made. Your last conversation had been peculiar, and if Margot had spread any rumors, Sevika could be thinking all sorts of things. You’d rather not provoke her now.

“I’ll wait for them downstairs,” Sevika added after a moment, shaking her head as if she had had enough of the conversation. She glanced at Silco, who said nothing, and then walked out, her steps light and unsettlingly satisfied with herself.

Only then did Silco focus all his attention on you.

“So now you’re maiming my people?” he asked lightly, almost joking, breaking the tension.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m learning from the best,” you replied calmly.

The corner of his mouth twitched. You relaxed a little. Still, there was a distance between you that you couldn’t close. Maybe you weren’t allowed to. You sighed heavily as you sat in the chair. This was how it would look now, wasn’t it?

“You know why you’re here?” he asked after a moment.

“For a reason other than the fact that you want me here?”

If your words surprised him, he didn’t show it. He didn’t comment on your remark but didn’t break eye contact either. He smiled slightly, but his eyes were serious.

“This is an opportunity for you to see this world from a different side.”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” you quickly interjected.

He tilted his head slightly, studying your tone. You were lying—you wanted it, not just because it would bring you closer, but because then you could have more. What unsettled you was the element of stepping out of the shadows.

“I know,” he said slowly. “It’s a taste of what awaits you.”

His gaze was probing, never leaving you. Though his tone was calm, something in his voice told you that he wanted an answer more than he’d care to admit. He stood slowly, placing the paper he’d been holding down. He reached for the glass in front of him and took a sip, briefly averting his gaze.

“I need you here. Not only today.”

His voice was quiet, soft—just like you had often heard it when you were together, which meant you knew he wasn’t just talking about work. And that’s why every word you said now mattered.

“Okay. For you, I will try.”

You tried to sound light and casual when you said it, but the last word came out softer. You didn’t want to try—you wanted to be. Silco sat back down as if nothing had changed, gesturing for you to sit beside him. He didn’t ask. He didn’t explain.

You walked to the other side of the desk, feeling like you were crossing a line. The space here looked different—familiar yet completely foreign. You could feel him beside you, though the tension was different from before. You had never stood here before. You had never looked at Silco’s office from this perspective.