Renata Glasc—Logan knew the name, but he didn't really know her story.
What he did know about her could basically be summed up as—
A champion. Designed with Silco as a reference. A support. A "powerful businesswoman" type, judging by the bio?
Anything more detailed than that, and Logan had no clue.
There were one or two hundred champions in League. He couldn't possibly know every single one's backstory. He used to be just some guy who played games—why would he spend loads of time studying lore?
And even if he did study it carefully… when Riot retconned things, what was he supposed to do besides get mad?
So aside from a handful of champions he was especially interested in, most of the time he'd only watch lore videos if they happened to pop up. Everything was up to fate.
That was why, when Viktor brought up the name, Logan got curious and started asking Viktor about Renata.
"I don't know that much either," Viktor said. "She hates people like us—people her parents helped. Mr. and Mrs. Glasc spent every last bit of their savings on sick, poor Zaunites. They were always healing the wounded for free, handing out tonics… and that's the biggest reason Renata grew up unhappy."
"I saw her once, digging through a scrapyard for food," Viktor added after thinking. "It was probably because her family ran out of money again."
"And you're saying she's good at making money?" Logan asked.
"That doesn't contradict anything," Viktor replied. "Renata didn't seem to have a talent for alchemy, but when she was very young, she used her family's tonics to squeeze a profit out of the gangs. She even tried to hire me once—wanted me to learn alchemy from her parents, make products for her, and split the money with her."
Viktor smiled faintly. "But I refused. Back then, I'd received an assistant invitation from Piltover University."
"If you're looking for her," Viktor said, "I remember she used to live around the area where the Lanes connect to the Dancewalk Corridor."
"Got it." Logan nodded at Viktor. "Thanks."
Logan remembered something from Renata's background—Zaun's leader. Which meant… after Silco died, Renata became the next Silco?
Walking out of the building and onto the street, Logan's expression turned strange.
Zaun's ruler was him right now. Not Silco.
So would Renata's story change too?
Whatever. He barely knew her lore in the first place. And besides—she was a middle-aged woman.
Now if it were Sona, Samira, Kai'Sa… sure, bring it on! Logan knew their stories inside and out!
——————
In Zaun's temporary council building, Silco raised his head when Logan entered his office—then lowered it again, continuing to handle paperwork, signing policy after policy that needed his approval.
Still, Silco spoke first. "What brings you here?"
"I got a lead from Viktor," Logan said, sitting across from him. "Someone who can solve our current problem."
Silco's interest piqued. He set down his pen and leaned back. "Zaun has talent even I don't know about? Let's hear it."
"Renata Glasc. Ever heard the name?"
Silco fell silent, thinking. After a long moment, he shook his head. "No. I've never heard of her in Zaun. And she doesn't sound like a Zaunite."
"We Zaunites have names, not family names."
"Viktor said she does business in the Lanes," Logan said. "I'm going to meet her. Want to come?"
Silco nodded. "Sure. I've been wanting to get out for a walk anyway. Let's see whether this 'talent' of yours is actually the kind of talent I want."
He stood, elegantly took his suit jacket from the hanger, slipped it on, and adjusted himself in the mirror before looking back at Logan.
Logan watched, a little irritated. That calm, refined, unshakable elegance—his "father-in-law" had it in spades. Logan couldn't imitate it to save his life.
——————
In Zaun's Sump, starting from Hope Community and Firefly Community, new neighborhoods had begun to spring up one after another.
Zaun's population wasn't large. Life here was harsh, resources were desperately scarce, and under the old chaotic system, with all those factors combined, the average person only lived into their twenties.
So even in the most densely populated Sump, there were only a few tens of thousands of residents.
But having fewer people didn't mean there was plenty of land.
Zaun lay by the ocean trench and bordered deep gorges. A century of toxic runoff had left far too many places uninhabitable. The areas where people could live were essentially limited to the Lanes and the surrounding blocks.
So: fewer people, scarce land, everyone packed together.
Ruoman Community hadn't been called that before. But after those Spirit Blossom Gang people arrived, they made sweeping changes—renaming what used to be Blood Street into Ruoman.
A man with his face wrapped in cloth glanced behind him. After confirming no one was following, he slipped into an alley, walked a few steps, and knocked on an iron door.
"Who is it?" a voice called from inside.
"Glasc…" the man said quietly.
Clack. The door opened. A tattooed man with one blind eye appeared, scowling. "Get in. You're late as hell."
"Damn it, that's not my fault!" the man cursed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bottle filled with purple liquid. "It's those Zaun enforcers! They won't stop patrolling!"
The one-eyed man nodded and turned to lead the way.
They walked to the end of the corridor. The one-eyed man opened a hidden mechanism. The wall rumbled—and began to slide.
A passageway appeared.
The man nodded again, gripped the bottle, and went in.
The cellar below was an underground tunnel, wide enough for three or four people to walk side by side. Lamps were spaced along the walls every few dozen meters, lighting the route.
After ten minutes, he reached his destination. Grabbing a metal frame, he climbed up with practiced ease.
He pushed open the wooden hatch above, crawled out, and emerged in another part of Zaun. In front of him stood a house cobbled together from wood.
Several armed men guarded the door. When they saw him, they looked displeased.
"Is Madam Glasc still here?"
A man stepped forward. "Damik, you kept her waiting a long time. Understand?"
Sweat beaded across Damik's forehead. He lowered his head, apologetic. "Yes. I'm sorry. But it's all because of the Zaun enforcers—I wasted a lot of time avoiding them."
"Enough. Madam Glasc doesn't like excuses. Get inside. She's waiting."
Damik nodded and entered the wooden house.
The interior was already packed—around thirty people. The moment Damik stepped in, all their eyes snapped onto him. He swallowed hard.
Keeping his head down, he threaded through them toward the stairs to the second floor.
He climbed the steps to a door, inhaled deeply, braced himself, and knocked.
"Madam Glasc. It's me, Damik."
"Come in," a hoarse voice answered.
Damik pushed the door open and saw a woman with black hair standing with her back to him.
She wore a white suit. Under loose suit trousers, she had short-heeled shoes. In her hands was a bowl, and she was feeding medicine to an elderly woman lying on the bed, spoon by spoon.
The old woman's face was badly burned, but her eyes were clear enough to show she was still conscious.
"Come," the woman said without turning. "Damik. Give it to me."
She set the empty bowl on the table, then turned.
Her face was lean and sharp. Her eyes—modified by chemtech—were a frightening crimson. Her features were striking, the kind of face that looked capable and dangerous.
Renata Glasc rose slowly. She was tall—tall enough to stand a good ten centimeters over Damik as she walked toward him.
Damik hurriedly handed over the bottle, still babbling explanations. "Madam Glasc, I'm truly sorry I'm late, but it's because of the Zaun enforcers—"
"Don't be nervous, Damik." A chemtech limb patted his shoulder. Renata's tone was calm.
"I understand the situation we're in." She opened the bottle, lowered her head, and sniffed lightly, then nodded. "Zaun isn't suitable for us anymore."
The calmness of her words made the room feel colder.
"The mixture's fine," Renata said. "You did well. This is your payment."
She flicked her gaze toward the table. Damik followed it and saw a coin pouch lying there.
He hurried over, grabbed it, and bowed again and again. "Thank you, Ms. Glasc! You're the most trustworthy merchant I've ever seen in Zaun!"
Renata only waved him off.
Damik understood. He nodded. "I'll leave right away. I won't disturb you."
After Damik left, Renata looked toward the corner.
There sat a strange device—one she called the Decanter. A piece of chemtech that had once been meant to satisfy her ambition.
But now… everything had failed.
Renata went downstairs to her people.
"Madam."
The room stood as one, greeting her in unison.
Renata waved them down and walked into the crowd, sitting on the sofa with her people standing behind her.
"Is the ship ready?" she asked.
"It's ready. Two ships we sourced from Bilgewater. They should arrive tomorrow afternoon."
Renata frowned. "Too late. I wanted to leave tonight."
She turned a respirator mask in her hand as she spoke, voice still even. "Zaun isn't suitable for us anymore."
"But all the preparations you worked so hard for…" one of her subordinates said, conflicted.
"Plans can't keep up with reality, Lauren." Renata pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, clearly irritated despite her composure.
"I meant to wait until Silco fell, then quickly pull the chem-barons to my side. Control them with my tonics and capital. Take Zaun."
"But who would've thought some Spirit Blossom Gang would appear out of nowhere?"
"Before, it was that stupid green-haired girl opposing us." Renata's eyes darkened. Her voice dropped so low it sounded like she was speaking only to herself. "And now it's the Spirit Blossom Gang…"
"If you truly were helping me, Janna… can you tell me why I keep running into things like this?"
"You saved my parents. You saved me. But now… why won't you help me anymore?"
Renata closed her eyes and sighed again.
She wasn't the type to break down and start cursing over something like this. If she were, she wouldn't be Renata.
Then—
Renata suddenly felt the world go unnaturally quiet.
It was as if her people weren't there at all. Not a single breath. Not even the faintest sound.
She opened her eyes in confusion and saw the men in front of her stiff as boards, eyes bulging, holding their breath like they were terrified to even exhale.
"?"
Renata turned her head—
And saw an unfamiliar man with a cane inside her house, calmly taking off his suit jacket.
He was thin—too thin. His face bore signs of old damage, and even heavy powder couldn't hide the scars. He hung his jacket on the rack by the door.
He placed the cane on the table as well.
Renata's crimson pupils contracted violently. Her chemtech limb moved on instinct toward her waistband—where a pistol rested.
The tall, gaunt man finished what he was doing, turned, and looked at Renata.
A faint smile touched his lips.
He looked weak. He looked fragile.
Yet in this room, with thirty people present, not a single one dared breathe loudly because he was here.
"Logan, you were right," Silco said, staring at Renata—though it was obvious he wasn't speaking to her.
"Glasc is talented. To build a gang of this size under my rule without me noticing… that's impressive."
"Though she did say she wanted to replace me." Silco's eyes narrowed slightly. "No—now she wants to replace you. Her ambition is enormous."
From behind, a warm voice answered, "Isn't that fine? Ambition is a good thing, Silco. You've always liked ambitious people."
Renata spun around, yanking for her gun—
But the instant her fingers touched it, a hand pressed down on her white chemtech limb.
"Shh. Don't do that."
A black-haired young man sat in the very seat Renata had been using.
Several of Renata's subordinates lay sprawled nearby, unconscious on the floor.
His hand rested lightly on Renata's chemtech limb.
He smiled like sunlight, ignoring the sweat at her hairline and the tremor that had seized her body.
And then, as softly as if greeting an old friend, he said,
"Good afternoon, Madam Glasc.
You were hard to find."
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