Thursday morning, ash-fog hung heavy over Drain Street. Raikaru sat before the workbench, studying a machine part, when the door opened quietly. No knock. Few people in Zaun entered without permission. The man who came in was large. Around fifty, broad-shouldered. He wore a jacket embroidered with the Grindgear Workshop Union insignia, flanked by two subordinates. His face was expressionless, but his eyes held no warmth. The kind of man who made everyone on Drain Street step aside—he carried that air about him. "[cold]Raikaru, is it. I'm Volga, workshop master of the Union." His voice was low and quiet. Not a shout. A man's voice that didn't need to shout. Volga sat in the chair before the workbench without asking, crossing his arms. The two subordinates remained motionless by the door. The narrow workshop suddenly felt suffocating. Raikaru stood watching him. "[cold]I'll be direct. Hand over that machine part. The Union will pay fair compensation. We guarantee you can continue living as an independent repair technician. Not a bad deal." This was different from the messenger who came Wednesday. The man who controlled the Smokestacks had come here himself. That alone told Raikaru how heavy that machine part truly was. Raikaru opened a drawer. Not to take the part out, but to put it in. Then locked it. "[serious]I decline." Volga's expression didn't change. He waited a second, then stood. "[cold]I see." He said nothing more. He left with his men. The door closed. Raikaru watched his back disappear, then looked at their own hands. They were trembling. Not from fear. From anger. That gaze, that casual way of sitting in the chair—it had lit something deep in Raikaru's gut. ──── Afternoon came. Mizuki, the owner of the neighboring Katakata-do, poked her head out. A woman in her thirties, rumored to be a former smuggler. Usually she spoke casually, but not today. "[sad]Raikaru, I'm sorry. We do business with the Union too... Please don't come for a while." She said it apologetically. She'd come to say it face-to-face. That much was clear. "[serious]I understand. It's fine." Right after answering with false bravado, a toolbox on the shelf fell. It hit Raikaru's head directly. A sharp crack, and Raikaru crumpled to the ground. Mizuki called out "Are you okay!?" but Raikaru answered "I'm fine" while biting back the pain. It wasn't funny. But somehow, Raikaru laughed. After Mizuki left, the workshop was silent. ──── From Friday into Saturday, the street changed. The owner of the food stall "Smoke & Bean" spoke without meeting their eyes. "[sad]Someone from the Union came by... said not to do business with you. I don't mind, but I've got family..." "[serious]I understand." Longtime neighbors who'd brought repair work stopped passing by the workshop. When their eyes met, they quickened their pace. Raikaru opened the order ledger. This week's requests were zero. Saturday morning, the workshop's outer wall was covered in large red paint letters. 《Traitor》 Raikaru filled a bucket with water and went outside. Brush in hand, they began scrubbing the paint. It wouldn't come off easily. The paint was dry. Written last night. An elderly white-haired woman walked past the closed pharmacy across the way. "Berta." Someone Raikaru had known since childhood. Someone who'd said "next time is fine" when they couldn't pay for repairs. One of the few kindnesses Raikaru had known in Zaun. Berta glanced over. Their eyes met. Then she looked down and hurried past. Raikaru stood holding the bucket, unable to move. "[cold]...What are you doing?" A voice. Raikaru turned. Ekoo emerged from the corner of the workshop, her purple short bob slightly damp in the ash-fog. Seeing the graffiti, she silently snatched the bucket. "[serious]What are you——" "[angry]Shut up. Seeing this just made me mad." Saying that, Ekoo pressed the brush against the wall and scrubbed with all her strength. The red paint faded. Still not gone, but fading. Raikaru watched. Ekoo alone was here, as always. That alone made something warm bloom deep in Raikaru's chest. The two of them scrubbed the wall side by side. The smell of paint, the damp air of ash-fog. After a while, the red letters were barely visible. Ekoo handed the bucket back to Raikaru and went inside the workshop. That was all. She said nothing. But she came. That was enough. ──── Saturday afternoon. Three of them surrounded the workbench. Ryou draped his coat over the chair's back and entered machine part data into a terminal. Ekoo inspected drone wings. Raikaru checked corrosion on the joints. Ryou reached for his coat. As he did, a single sheet of paper fell from the pocket to the floor. Ekoo reflexively picked it up. "[cold]You dropped this." She went to hand it back, then stopped. The text printed on the paper caught her eye. 《Verner Technical Institute Professor Dracless—Investigation Report (Draft)》 Ryou went pale. "Ah, that——" He tried to stand. Ekoo opened the paper. Silence. Her eyes ran across the text. Line after line. Ekoo's face changed. First confused. Then disbelieving. Finally, understanding everything. 《...Upon recovery of target drone power source data, return to Piltover is planned. Target individual (Ekoo) should avoid emotional contact and be managed strictly as a research subject——》 "[cold]...Research subject." Her voice was low. Emotionless. "[serious]Ekoo, that's——" "[angry]Don't." One word cut him off. The drone rose. Moving slowly, synchronized with Ekoo's emotion. It turned toward Ryou. "[angry]So you were just using me all along!" Her voice cracked. Raikaru tried to step between them. "Wait, let me——" Ekoo turned back. Gold and silver mismatched eyes looked at Raikaru. "[cold]You too. You only stuck around because of the machine part." "[angry]That's not true!" The door opened. Closed. The drone followed. Raikaru tried to chase, but Ryou grabbed their arm. Raikaru pulled free and opened the door, but Ekoo's figure had already vanished into the ash-fog of Drain Street. ──── Only Raikaru and Ryou remained in the workshop. Outside sounds felt distant. The chemical lamp hissed with a faint buzz. "[serious]Explain." Low voice. Not a shout. But heavier than a shout. Ryou didn't hide it. He'd received a secret mission from Professor Dracless of Verner Technical Institute. He'd come under the guise of "technical research training," but the real purpose was to retrieve data on Ekoo's drone's anomalous power source. At first, he'd approached Ekoo as a research subject. He admitted everything. "[sad]But...my feelings are real. I really did fall for her. But I also really did lie..." Ryou knelt on the floor. Tears fell. Not covering his face, just letting them flow. No shame, no reluctance to be seen. He simply collapsed. Raikaru had picked up a wrench. Without realizing when. Raised it. Ryou looked up. Face wet with tears, he said: "[crying]You can hit me." Raikaru slowly lowered the wrench. The strength drained away. They sank to the floor. Hitting Ryou wouldn't bring Ekoo back. That was all. The two sat on the floor in silence for a long time. Two pathetic men in a narrow workshop, saying nothing. Though there was nothing to laugh about. "[sad]...Aren't you going to chase after Ekoo?" "[serious]...I don't know what I'd say if I did." Ryou slowly stood. He took his coat. "[sad]I'll take my leave for today." He left quietly. The door closed. ──── Sunday night, the workshop was silent. No customers came. The order ledger remained blank. Ekoo didn't come. Ryou didn't come. Not even the sound of Gwen's rusty faucet. Raikaru sat before the workbench, doing no repairs. Their hands wouldn't move. Even holding tools, they couldn't bring themselves to work. On the wall outside, the faint trace of red paint remained. It hadn't completely disappeared. Raikaru remembered the morning Berta looked down. Didn't want to remember. But it surfaced anyway. The day the Bridgewar ended surfaced too. Their mentor was under rubble. Unmoving. Raikaru could do nothing. Just stood there, tools in hand. When a friend vanished in the explosion at the bridge district, Raikaru was in the workshop. Watching precious things disappear. That's all. So they'd decided not to get involved. If they didn't get involved, they wouldn't lose anything. That's what they'd thought. But they had gotten involved. With Ekoo. With Ryou too. It was the same again. They could do nothing. Tears fell. Small stains on the desk. Raikaru remembered the morning Ekoo scrubbed the graffiti. Snatching the bucket, scrubbing silently with the brush. Scrubbing with furious strength. The tips of her ears were red. Where was she now? It wasn't anger. It was worry. Raikaru knew the hideout's location. Four hundred meters south of Drain Street, in a corner of an abandoned drainage tunnel. A narrow entrance only small people could fit through, where Ekoo stayed alone. But did Raikaru have the right to go? What could they say? They had no idea. Raikaru laid their head on the desk. From the gap in the drawer's lock, pale blue light leaked out. Raikaru opened the drawer. The machine part was glowing. Not its usual faint pulse. A single moment of clear, strong light. Painfully bright blue-white. Then it faded back to quiet. It kept moving, even broken. Raikaru wiped their tears. They placed the machine part on the desk. The light pulsed slowly. They stared at it. There was no answer. But that light alone was alive in the workshop tonight.