Chapter 1: The Wrong City
PART 1
The alley smells like oil, smoke, and something burned too long to identify. You shouldn’t be here-you know that. Your boots are too clean, your coat is too expensive, the fabric catching on rusted metal like the city itself is offended by you.
Zaun doesn’t like visitors from Piltover.
Someone scoffs from the shadows.
“You lost, topside?”
You freeze.
She steps into the dim light like she belongs to it ,lean, broad-shouldered, hair pulled back messy like she cut it herself. There’s a fresh cut on her knuckles and dried blood at the edge of her lip. She looks about your age. Maybe a little older. Definitely tougher.
Her eyes flick over you, fast and sharp.
Clothes. Posture. Accent.
Piltover.
“Didn’t think so,” she mutters. “This isn’t a sightseeing route.”
“I’m not sightseeing,” you say, lifting your chin despite the way your heart thumps.
For a moment, she just studies you-like you’re a puzzle, she didn’t expect to see you dumped in her alley. Then she steps closer, maybe not threatening but definitely testing.
“You got money,” she says. “And no sense. That combo gets people robbed. Or worse.”
“Are you going to rob me?” you ask.
She snorts. “If I was, you’d already be on the ground.”
Fair.
A beat passes. Somewhere above, a pipe hisses.
“Name’s Sevika,” she says finally, like it’s a challenge. “Remember it. And turn around before Zaun eats you alive.”
“Hey,” you say “You’re bleeding.”
She looks down like she’d forgotten. Or like she doesn’t care.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s still bleeding.”
That earns you a glare sharp enough to make most people back off. You don’t. Instead, you reach into your bag leather, polished, very obviously pull out a small bundle of clean bandages.
Her eyes flick to them. Then to you.
“…What are you doing?” she asks, slow and suspicious.
“Helping,” you say, like it’s obvious. “If you let me.”
A laugh escapes her, disbelieving. “You’re in Zaun. In an alley. With a stranger. And you wanna play medic?”
You shrug, kneeling anyway. “I don’t like seeing people hurt.”
That makes her quiet.
For a long second, Sevika looks like she’s deciding whether to shove you away or bolt. Instead, she exhales sharply and turns her arm just enough to give you access.
“Make it quick,” she mutters. “And don’t do anything stupid.”
Your hands tremble a little as you clean the cut. Not because it’s bad but because she’s watching you like she expects a trick. Like kindness is a language she doesn’t quite understand.
She doesn’t pull away when you wrap the bandage.
“You do this a lot?” she asks.
“No,” you admit. “But I’m learning.”
“Huh.” A pause. Then, quieter: “Most topsiders don’t bother.”
You finish tying it off and sit back. “Most people don’t bother,” you say.
Sevika studies the neat bandage on her arm. Then she looks at you,not sharp this time. Just… curious.
“You’re weird,” she says.
You smile. “I get that a lot.”
She snorts despite herself. And for a brief moment, standing there in the flickering alley light, the distance between Piltover and Zaun feels… smaller.
Not gone.
But somehow bridged.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/78967281/chapters/207131371
pic credit : pintrest
