Life in the undercity had always been about survival. Growing up among the grime and shadows, you learned quickly that if you wanted something, you had to take it. Whether it was pickpocketing, scamming, or outright stealing, your hands grew deft, and your instincts sharp. Piltover’s shining towers loomed above, a daily reminder of the wealth and privilege that was out of reach. You’d always held a deep resentment for anyone who came from there—arrogant, clueless, and completely unaware of the struggles below.

That perspective began to waver the day you saw her.

It happened near a dingy bar that sat on the border between the undercity and Piltover. The area was bustling, as usual, an easy spot to swipe a few coins from unsuspecting passersby. While keeping an eye on the crowd, you noticed a girl around your age of 15, standing awkwardly near the edge of the market. She was dressed in what looked like a Piltover officer's uniform, though it was clearly tailored for someone younger, and she carried herself with a mix of confidence and uncertainty. Her dark hair was neatly tied back, and her sharp blue eyes scanned her surroundings, taking everything in like she was on some kind of mission.

She was obviously out of place, and you couldn't help but scoff. A Piltover girl this far down? She wouldn’t last five minutes here. You slipped through the crowd toward her, thinking she might have something worth "borrowing." But before you could make your move, she turned and caught sight of you.

Her eyes softened immediately, her posture relaxing just a bit. Tilting her head curiously, she gave you a faint, polite smile. "What are you doing here?"