The dim glow of chandeliers bathed the restaurant in golden light, reflecting off polished marble floors and crimson velvet seats.
Soft jazz hummed through the air, blending with the gentle patter of rain against the grand windows. Outside, Piltover's streets shimmered under the downpour, but inside, it was warm, intimate—almost dreamlike.
Bael sat across from Powder, watching as she twirled her fork between her fingers, humming along to the melody. She had barely touched her food, too caught up in her excitement to sit still.
"I still can't believe it," she said suddenly, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table. "Bael, do you get it? We're here. In a place like this. Together." Her fingers clutched the blue gem around her neck—the one he had bought for her earlier. "All fancy, all important. This is the life."
Bael smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "Tch. You're acting like I pulled off a heist just to get us a table."
(A/N: which he absolutely fucking did. Man I pity that old worker, an asshole but an unlucky asshole.)
"Hehe~. My fiancé is real funny." She winked at the end.
Bael rolled his eyes, but his smirk softened. "Fiancé, huh? You're really set on that?"
Powder grinned, tapping her fork against the rim of her plate. " 'Course I am. You think I'd let you go? Pfft. Bael, I'd hunt you down across realities if I had to."
"So," she started, leaning back on the chair, "since we're doing things all proper now… let's talk future."
Bael raised an eyebrow, setting down his fork. "Future?"
"Yeah. You, me. Wedding. Kids. Big house, maybe? Or maybe we just take over Zaun, I dunno. Depends how I'm feeling."
Powder grinned, propping her chin on her hand. "Oh, hell yeah, kids. A lot of 'em. No way am I raising just one. Our family has been small forever, Bael. I want my kids to have an army of siblings."
Bael rubbed his temple. "An army, huh?"
"Yeah. And you'll love each and every one of them." She added.
He let out a breath, shaking his head with a smirk. "And I suppose you've already planned the wedding too?"
"Of course I have," she said, straightening up. "It's gonna be huge. Vander's walking me down the aisle. Ekko's best man, obviously. We'll get a dress that makes every Piltie princess look like a beggar. Oh! And a honeymoon! Somewhere with a view, somewhere fancy. Somewhere you can spoil me rotten."
Bael let his head fall back with a groan. "You're going to drain me."
"Damn right I am." She leaned closer, whispering now, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're mine, Bael. And I'm never letting go."
They finished eating eventually and left the restaurant. That's when something unusual happened...
A little girl, no older than six or seven, standing in the alleyway across from them. She was starved and thin, with ragged outdated clothes and bare feet soaked from the rain. Her brunette hair stuck to her face, and her wide, golden eyes were locked onto them—onto Powder, specifically.
Bael glanced at Powder. "You know her?"
"No..." Powder whispered, but something in her expression twisted. Her hands curled into fists. "But I know what she is."
Bael didn't need to ask. He could see it in the girl's hollow cheeks, in the way she trembled against the cold. She was another orphan, another street kid left to fend for herself. Just like Powder had been.
Powder took a step forward, but the girl flinched, pressing herself against the wall like a cornered animal.
"Hey..." Powder's voice softened, dropping the teasing, confident tone she always had. "Are you hungry?"
The girl hesitated, then gave the smallest nod.
Powder didn't wait. She moved fast, grabbing Bael's wrist and dragging him back inside the restaurant. "We're getting her food."
Bael smirked. "Bossy."
"Shut up and help me pick something good," she snapped, but her voice wavered. Something was aching in her chest.
A few minutes later, they stepped back outside, Powder holding a warm plate wrapped in a cloth napkin. She crouched, carefully extending it toward the girl. "Here."*
The girl stared at the food, then at Powder, as if waiting for a trick.
"It's yours," Powder assured her. "Go on. Eat."
The girl hesitated for only a second longer before snatching the plate and retreating a few steps. She didn't even sit—just devoured the food where she stood, shoveling it into her mouth like she was afraid someone would take it away.
Bael watched Powder as she watched the girl. There was something raw in her eyes—pain, guilt, understanding.
"We can't save them all," Bael muttered, voice low.
Powder exhaled sharply through her nose. "Yeah? Watch me try."
The girl slowed as she finished the meal, licking her fingers clean. Then, for the first time, she really looked at Powder.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"What's your name, little angel?" Powder asked, playfully.
"....Isha...." She barely spoke.
Powder knelt to her level, her sharp blue eyes softening. "Isha, huh? That's a pretty name," she said, offering a warm smile.
Isha didn't respond, just stared up at her with those wide, fearless eyes. The rain dripped from her messy hair, but she didn't seem to care.
Bael watched the interaction, his gut twisting. He knew that look—hunger, desperation, loneliness.
"There you are, fucking brat." This abnoxious sound made Isha stir up and Bael jump in reaction.
He immediately stepped in front of Powder and Isha, his body tensing. Powder's grip on Isha tightened as she pulled the girl close.
These gangsters—grimy, rough-looking men reeking of cheap Shimmer—stalked toward them, their eyes locked onto Isha like vultures circling a fresh corpse.
"Hah! Search time's over boys," one of them sneered. "You gave us a real good run, brat."
Powder narrowed her eyes, her free hand twitching toward her hip, where a concealed knife rested. "She ain't yours," she said coldly.
"Not your business," another thug snapped, flashing a rusted blade. "Hand her over, or we'll carve you up nice."
Bael rolled his shoulders, stepping forward. "Funny thing," he said, his voice calm but sharp as a razor's edge. "I was in a good mood tonight. Fancy dinner, good company… But you lot? You just fucked that up."
The leader scoffed, about to retort—then he saw the look in Bael's eyes.
That dead, merciless look.
Bael cracked his knuckles. "Last chance. Walk away, or I start stacking bodies."
Nothing.
Bael moved like a ghost—fluid, ruthless, untouchable. His fists, elbows, and knees struck with pinpoint precision, breaking noses, dislocating joints, sending bodies crashing into the rain-slick pavement. Every movement was honed, calculated, brutal. These thugs had no idea what hit them.
Powder watched, frozen, eyes wide. This wasn't her Bael. Her Bael was a genius, a craftsman, a man who built things—not one who dismantled people with his bare hands. She had never seen him fight like this, never seen him move with such terrifying efficiency.
One of the gangsters, blood pouring from his mouth, tried to crawl away. Bael grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up, raising his fist for the final blow. His fingers trembled. He could end them all right now—wipe them from existence just like the classic way in his original world.
But… this wasn't his original world.
He exhaled sharply, letting go. The thug collapsed into the mud, gasping. The rest scrambled to their feet and fled into the shadows, not daring to look back.
Bael turned to Powder, rain dripping from his hair, his breaths slow and steady.
She was staring at him.
"…Bael?" she asked, voice uncertain.
This raw, unfiltered dominance—this was something new, something primal, something that made heat coil deep in her stomach.
She bit her lip, stepping closer, barely holding herself back. "Bael…" she whispered, eyes burning with something wild. "You've been hiding this from me?" Her voice was low, teasing, but there was a dangerous edge to it. She reached up, fingers ghosting over his jaw, her breath mixing with his in the cold night air. "That was… fucking hot."
Meanwhile, Isha, the tiny observer in the background, nodded approvingly. Though she said nothing, her bright eyes practically glowed with admiration. She stepped forward, grabbed Bael's sleeve, and gave it a tiny tug. A silent way of saying, That was amazing.
Bael exhaled, the tension in his body slowly easing. He looked down at the little girl and then back at Powder, who was still eyeing him like a predator sizing up her prey.
"Let's get out of here," he muttered.
Powder grinned. "Yeah, before I do something crazy in public."