The bell rang. It was like the starting gun of a footrace. The later on in the year, the earlier the useful part of the day seemed to end; all the students were long-since prepared to make their getaways. With exams days away, most of them seemed to think they were at capacity already.

"Thank you, everyone, see you tomorrow!" Miss Bustier tried to call over the rush of people on their way out the door.

"Bye, Chloe," Sabrina said, as she turned at the usual spot.

Quick as the strike of a viper, Chloe snagged Sabrina's arm. "Oh, no," she said. "You're coming with me today."

"Wh-what?" said Sabrina as Chloe dragged her along. "What's going on?"

"You're going to be off to college in the fall," said Chloe. "Do you think I'd let someone in my orbit go to college with your wardrobe? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous! We're going shopping. And before you ask, you're not allowed to pay."

Sabrina was several steps behind, both physically and mentally. "Wait, you're buying me new clothes?"

"Duh," said Chloe.

"But… I can't possibly pay you back…"

"Stop," said Chloe firmly. "No talking like that. Shopping is a joy, but worrying about how much it costs takes all the fun out of it. I forbid you from looking at any price tags while we're out, do you understand?"

"Okay," Sabrina said slowly. "But… why?"

"Haven't I already explained?" Chloe said, sounding much put-upon. "I want you to look good when you go to college. I won't have you go embarrassing me." Her expression softened fractionally. "Besides, you had a point about Lila, and that deserves a reward. Now stop making me drag you and come on."

Equal parts flattered and bewildered, Sabrina allowed herself to be tugged along.

From behind them, Mylene leaned into Ivan and said, "Chloe doesn't really know how to friend, does she?"

Ivan smiled. "Baby steps."

Lila burned with resentment. She watched her classmates as they filed out of the classroom. Why couldn't one of them be cleaning the room today? Why did it have to be her? Sure, sure, there was a rotation, but that had never stopped her before. Half the time she was able to get someone else to do it in her place. She had "another appointment", or an ill-defined and temporary "injury", or some other excuse.

Not today, though. Today she hadn't been able to get any bites. She was stuck doing this for real.

What good were classmates if they wouldn't even do your work for you?

Not to mention that they'd rallied around Marinette. That tramp! She'd wriggled out of Lila and Chloe's slut-shaming her by being a bigger slut (and having less shame) than they'd expected! Marinette wasn't even being ostracized for getting herself knocked up. If anything, she was more the center of the action than ever. Her getting with Adrien—Adrien!—just made it all worse.

Lila hated them all, but she hated Marinette the most. Oh, if she had a chance to put Plan B into action…

The classroom emptied. Lila, grumbling, moved towards the back of the room. She was already trying to determine how little she could do to say she'd "cleaned". Maybe she'd…

Marinette's backpack.

Lila blinked, unable to believe it for a moment. The universe didn't just hand out gifts like this, but as she looked again, she couldn't dispute it. She recognized it well—she'd stolen that same backpack to plant condoms in it, after all. That had to be it. So, Marinette had left her backpack behind at her desk. Preggo brain, no doubt.

Oh, but this was wonderful! Lila felt herself light up with glee. Plan B was a go after all.

Hurrying back to her desk, she unzipped a smaller, hard-to-see pocket in her own backpack. Inside was a contraband batch of papers: answer keys to some of the much-ballyhooed exams.

They'd been hard to get, but, luckily, Max was as oblivious as ever. He hadn't noticed Lila piggy-backing off his computer room access. From there it was a lateral move to steal a teacher's credentials, and the rest was child's play. Lila had already made copies for her personal use, but this set… ah. This set would destroy Marinette. All she had to do was plant it in Marinette's backpack, then ensure the backpack would be found. It wouldn't be hard; she'd done exactly that with the tampered-condom scheme.

Now it would be trivial to…

The door burst open as she was putting the papers inside. She didn't jerk or make any sort of motion that would imply guilt, she was too smooth for that. Instead, she rose up again to see who'd interfered.

Alix waved jauntily. "Hey, Lila," she said as she approached. "Can't believe I forgot my lunchbox, that would have made me unhappy tomorrow…"

"At least you remembered now," said Lila. As she spoke, she subtly rotated her wrist, so that the papers in her hand were obscured from Alix's view.

Even so, Alix stopped as she got to Lila. "Whatcha got there?" she asked, pointing at Lila's hand.

"Just some papers I found while cleaning up," said Lila casually. "I was going to throw them away."

"In Marinette's backpack?" was Alix's dubious reply.

"No, I found them around there, I was picking them up," lied Lila.

"What is it, then?" said Alix, stepping closer. "Anything good? A love letter to Adrien, maybe?"

"I respect people's privacy," said Lila, rotating her wrist again and pushing the papers further behind her. Internally, she was swearing vehemently. Alix was ruining everything!

"Ooh, so it is personal? Now I want to see it more!" Alix chuckled. "I guess Alya's rubbing off on me a bit."

"No can do," Lila insisted.

Alix sighed. "You're no fun. Well, it can't be helped." She stepped to the side. "Trash can's over there."

Lila blinked. "What?"

"You were going to throw those papers away, right?" said Alix. The good humor had vanished from her voice. "Don't let me stop you. Go ahead."

"What, so you can fish it out of the garbage once I step away?" said Lila, going on the offensive.

"It's not like it's anything bad, is it?" said Alix with an audible edge.

Aha! So this was how Lila could make Plan B work after all. "Actually, it is," said Lila. She slumped her shoulders and made her expression one of disappointment and sadness. "I'd never believed Marinette capable of this…"

"What?" said Alix, surprised.

"It's the answer key to some of our exams," said Lila, revealing the papers to Alix. "It looks like she got a copy of them and was going to cheat her way through."

"No way," said Alix, shaking her head firmly. "Not Marinette."

"I never would have believed it, either, not after that big stink when she was expelled years ago," said Lila with as much mock-regret as she could manage. "I thought she'd want to stay super-clean after that. But here we are."

"I had so much trust in her," Alix said, face downcast. "For her to do something like this…"

"It's just awful, isn't it?" said Lila, inwardly dancing with delight. "I didn't want anyone else to have to deal with that, that's why I tried to hide it from you earlier. I was just going to turn in what I'd found on my own, come what may. I'm sorry."

Alix shook her head, still not looking up. "It's not your fault. It's Marinette's."

"I wish she hadn't done it. I wish… a lot of things." Lila sighed. "Now there's nothing to do but hand this over to the authorities."

Alix met Lila's eyes. Her face was grim. "I'll do it."

Lila frowned. "Do what?"

"I'll turn it in," said Alix. "Marinette's my friend… at least, I thought she was… I should handle this part."

Oh, that was even better! Lila preferred using other people as the vectors for her plans. That was why she'd locked the bathroom door and forced Juleka to use the upstairs bathroom, setting her up to discover the condom plant. That way Juleka became the person to spring the trap, not Lila. It gave Lila plausible deniability, and the flexibility to pivot the next deception in any direction. Now Alix was volunteering to fill the same role. It was perfect.

"I can't let you do that," she said, hiding her intent. "I found it, I need to bring it in."

"I insist," said Alix firmly. "If Marinette's going down for something she did, I have to see it."

Lila resisted the urge to fist-pump. "If it has to be that way…"

"It does," Alix said. "Just go ahead and put the papers back, and I'll take the backpack to the principal's office."

"Alright," Lila said, injecting reluctance into her voice. She walked to the backpack again, put the answer key inside, and handed it over to Alix.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," said Alix, taking the backpack.

"Me too," said Lila.

Alix walked for the door—but then paused and turned back. "Hey, Lila?" she called, her face inscrutable.

Lila had been pretending to look busy; she hadn't expected this. "Yes, Alix?"

"This isn't Marinette's backpack."

The words took a long time to register. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering with her voice, Alix unzipped the backpack further, so she could fold it almost in half. Exposing the lower part of its back wall, she revealed a patch that had been sewn on. The patch had an inscription which Lila had to peer at to read.

This backpack is not, and never has been, Marinette's. -Mylene

Incomprehension reigned. "Huh?"

"This was a honey pot," Alix said, and Lila was unnerved by the look in her eyes. "You just got caught with your hand in it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Lila—she needed more information to set up the next lie.

"Max knew someone had used his administrator's access to get the answer keys," Alix said, "but he didn't know who, or why. Luckily, someone let slip a little plan you'd been working on to punish Marinette for bagging Adrien."

Lila was truly alarmed now, though she kept her appearance cool. "Is Chloe telling tales on me, then?"

"Sabrina, actually," said Alix, and her expression was now clearly one of savage triumph. "Turns out she had an attack of conscience after the last confrontation—honestly, who saw that coming? She knew there was another plan you and Chloe had talked about. When she heard Max telling me about the data breach, she knew you'd initiated your backup plan, and she spoke up."

"I still don't know what that has to do with me," said Lila. "That's still one person telling tales."

"Which is why we set up this trap," said Alix. "Sabrina told us how your plan would work. Chloe bought a backpack the same type as Marinette's. Rose and Mylene doctored it to look like hers, and sewed in the patch. Alya put a camera inside to prove that you were the first person to open it, and a second camera that's been recording this whole conversation. Nino sits right in front of Marinette, so he planted the backpack for me. When you saw an opportunity to pin the answer keys on Marinette, you couldn't resist the bait. Then I came back to retrieve it and slam the door."

Alix crossed her arms. "You always wanted to be popular, Lila. And look at this! Half the class worked together to expose your lies. You were our class project. I bet you're loving the attention."

"The attention of my classmates setting me up?" snarled Lila, unable to help herself.

"You lived by the sword," said Alix mercilessly. "Time for you to die by the sword."

As Alix zipped the backpack up, Lila spat, "I bet Marinette's so fucking proud of herself."

"Marinette?" said Alix as if confused. "She had nothing to do with this. She doesn't even know. This was my plan. Marinette, you see…" she sighed. "She outgrew revenge. She believes in second chances, and third chances, and forgiveness. She's been trying to get people to treat you nicely."

Alix smiled a cruel little smile. "She's a much better person than me."

She exited the classroom, leaving Lila alone with her defeat.

The silence had gotten uncomfortably long.

On one side of the table, Tom Dupain, his hands folded together as if in prayer, his face set.

On the other side, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, whose eyes were darting around the room restlessly, and Adrien Agreste, whose hands were hidden underneath the table and clasped together so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

Tom's breathing was long and slow and loud. Every time he inhaled the teens tensed, expecting this to be the moment he spoke; every exhale caused them to squirm without relaxing. Marinette chewed the inside of her cheek until it was raw. Adrien's eyes kept darting for the open door.

The silence had become almost unbearable when Tom finally broke it. "So."

Adrien couldn't find the wits to make a "needle pulling thread" joke.

"It's come to this," Tom said.

The teens glanced at each other.

"You don't really understand how all this works," Tom said. "I guess I didn't explain it adequately. Everyone thinks they can just figure it out on their own, but it's not that easy."

The teens nodded somberly.

"I wish I'd known earlier," Tom continued. "I could have given advice, helped you think through it. Ah, youth. Always charging into things. I understand. The first step is so natural, so seductive, that it's easy to lose sight of what you're getting yourselves into."

Marinette flushed. Adrien's toes curled as he hid a cringe.

"Now we have to make the best of it," Tom continued. "It won't be simple. It takes hard work, constant effort, and dedication."

"We can do it, dad," Marinette said, though with less confidence than she was trying to project.

"Can you? I'm not so sure." He huffed as he reached beneath the table. "I know for a fact that you've never, in your life…"

He plopped down a stack of spreadsheets. "…balanced a checkbook."

Adrien fell out of his chair. Marinette gaped in shock. "Are you kidding?!"

"It's a serious matter! Here's the paperwork for joint filing of taxes, we need to work through your deductions, and these are applications for joint bank accounts—I got a few for different banks, I didn't know which one you'd want, my bank is on top…"

Marinette double face-palmed. Adrien unsteadily returned to his chair. "This was all about… our finances?" he said shakily.

Tom lost control of his laughter and looked to the side of the room. "Did you get it?"

"I got it," said Sabine giddily, holding a camera and obviously recording the entire scene.

"Mom! Dad!" groaned Marinette.

"Ah, we'll be enjoying this video for years," Tom said happily.

"I might have to upload this one, at least for my friends," said Sabine.

"Don't you dare!" said Marinette.

"I know, I know. It'd go viral in seconds, but that's the problem." Sabine put the camera down and smiled. "We love you both, you know."

"I am being serious about this," said Tom, gesturing to the paperwork. "This is something important to sort out as soon as possible."

Marinette dragged her hands back down her face so her eyes were visible. "And here I thought this was going to be some relationship talk."

"There'll be plenty of time for those," Tom said. When the teens jerked in response, he hastened to add, "I'm not saying we have to, or I disapprove. I mean, I… er…" he chuckled at himself. "You're not taking the path I had in mind, but, well, I love you, my little girl, and you seem to be doing alright so far…"

"What your father's trying to say," said Sabine, stepping in and putting a hand behind his back, "is that we'll do our best to help you, and as long as you love each other and are trying to make it work, we'll throw our support behind you."

"Right," said Tom, seeming relieved by the intervention. "It's fine. For now. We're here to help. I like to think that after twenty years we know a thing or two about making a relationship work, even when the start is, uh…"

He glanced up at Sabine, who gave him a pointed look. "What I mean is we love you," he said swiftly.

Marinette and Adrien smiled. "That's a relief," she said.

"We want your relationship to bring you as much happiness as ours has brought us," Sabine said. "And don't let your father fool you, the beginnings aren't as dissimilar as you think."

"Darliiiing," he protested.

"Huh?" said Marinette.

"You never did the math comparing your date of birth to our marriage date, did you?" said Sabine, her eyes twinkling. "Let's just say, you were a small baby, but you weren't born premature. Someone had trouble waiting for the honeymoon. It hasn't changed much, either," she added, rubbing her own swelling belly.

"Oh, god," Marinette said as she double face-palmed again, "why are you telling me this?"

"We're just saying we believe in you," Sabine said. "We trust you can make it work, with enough love and effort."

"But you really do need to be careful when you file jointly," Tom said, pointing at the paperwork and leaning forward. "It's usually advantageous and much simpler, but there are some things to look out for…"

An hour later, as Marinette and Adrien staggered out of the room, each holding a ream of paperwork, Adrien said, "I wish he'd just yelled at us."

"Me too."

"I dig the threads, peds," said Jagged Stone.

The members of Kitty Section had known they were coming to see Stone, and still couldn't help but be awed by the legendary rock star. Ivan's eyes could hardly be wider. Juleka was hiding behind him. Rose seemed to have lost the ability to close her mouth. Only Luka had the wherewithal to say, "The honor's ours, sir."

"Please, please, no rock-'n'-roller could stand to be called 'sir'," said the aging star with a wave of a callused hand. "You can't stick it to The Man if you're called 'sir'. If you're called 'sir' it means you are The Man, and at that point you're just an empty husk, you know?"

Maybe he was trying to emphasize just how rebellious he could be, but Jagged Stone leaned back so far in his chair it was almost parallel to the ground and slung a leg atop his desk. He was wearing leather, heeled boots, the same shiny black as his outfit. The epaulets built into his shoulders jiggled showily as he settled. One thing could always be said about Jagged Stone: he was never confused for anyone else.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Stone spoke. "I was serious about the getup, though, it's a good look." He gestured to Kitty Section's band outfits. "That's a Dupain-Cheng number, isn't it?"

Surprise layered upon surprise. The members of the band nodded dumbly.

"Called it," Stone said triumphantly. "I'd recognize that girl's work anywhere, I like her style." He turned his head towards his assistant, Penny, whose white shirt-and-jacket combination looked positively sedate by comparison to Stone. "Of course," Stone went on in a stage whisper, "I cheated."

"Did you?" she said, content to play along.

"Marinette's the one who suggested we bring these kids in while we were chatting about my new album cover. Doesn't miss a trick, that one."

Only Luka was exempt from the shared glances that followed. He'd gone rigid at the mention of Marinette. "Mr. Stone, we're very flattered to meet you, but we're sure you're very busy and don't want to waste your time. Your invitation mentioned an opportunity…?"

"Relax, kid," said Stone expansively. "There's no rush here. In fact, I think I'd like to jam with you a bit."

"With me?" said Luka, his voice cracking.

"Yeah," said Stone, and he swung upwards out his chair so quickly it was alarming. "It's always nice to play a bit with the next generation, as long as the next generation loves music like I love it. Come here."

Stone walked to one wall of the enormous room, which seemed to serve multiple functions. The desk implied Stone used it for business, but there was also a huge sofa facing an even bigger television, a cluster of microphones and speakers in one corner, and an entire wall covered in guitars of manifold sizes and shapes. Stone grabbed two and extended one towards Luka. "Your axe, my friend," he said. "Let's see how you swing it."

Luka accepted the guitar. Instincts kicked in. After strapping it over himself, he played a chord, and automatically began tuning it. After three chords, he paused. "Could you play a gee-major?" he asked Stone.

Stone seemed pleased by the question, but he still asked, "Why?"

"Because if we're jamming together," Luka said, seeing the test, "it's most important that we be in tune with each other."

"Rock on," Stone said with a smile, and obliged. Luka continued tuning, but working from Stone's sound, not the one in his head.

Eventually Luka gave a satisfied nod. "Ready."

"I'll start," said Stone. "I'll give you twelve bars. Like so…"

Stone started playing. Rose gave a happy clap; all of them recognized the song readily. It was one of Stone's most famous songs: up-tempo, full of easy-to-follow progressions that bounced high, then low, then returned. Ivan's head was bobbing with the beat before he realized he was doing it.

Luka was ready. The moment Stone finished his twelfth measure of music, Luka picked it up, continuing the song.

Stone waved him down immediately. "Nah, nah," he said, before pointing at Luka. "You do you, bro."

Luka was struck dumb for a moment. He'd left the last song in an unsettled place, and he didn't know how to recover. Stone wanted him to play one of his own songs?

Unsure and out of sorts, Luka launched into Kitty Section's standard, an aggressive, in-your-face anthem. It didn't have much in common with what Stone had played; the effect was as uncomfortable as Luka felt.

Like Stone, Luka gave it twelve bars before leaving it off. Stone was looking up into the air, at nothing in particular, before he shook his head. "Not really there, is it? Let's try this one."

His second song was another they'd all heard, but this one was fierce, harsh, a little repetitive to drive home its points. Stone jerked his head at Luka when he was done. Luka hesitated for a second—and then began.

His bandmates recognized it as "It's Not Me, It's You": Luka's song of anger. It wasn't the same as Stone's song, exactly, but everyone in the room felt a sort of resonance; the songs' hearts were in the same place.

"Thaaaat's better," said Stone, grinning his approval. "Alright, try this one." The next song was slower and grimmer. Luka answered with "Song of Depression". It didn't match Stone's song, but it sympathized.

Stone threw out a faster song, leading Luka up in tempo; Luka followed. After three exchanges, Stone maxed out with sixteen bars of finger-blistering frenzy. Luka didn't try to match. Instead, he started working them back down in tempo, and Stone obliged him.

Their songs weren't always in the same tempo or the same key, but they never clashed; each rocker was choosing his licks as if in progression, like they'd planned it all along.

After ten calls-and-responses altogether, Stone played a song that was affectionate, almost gentle (by his standards). Luka responded with "Wishing You the Best", the emotion of Acceptance.

The last notes faded. Ivan was still air-drumming. Rose was smiling so hard it seemed like her face had gotten stuck. Juleka was flushed and had a hand over her heart.

"Noooow I'm feeling it," said Stone, grinning like a maniac. "Rock on, bro." He extended a fist in Luka's direction.

Luka bumped fists in acknowledgement. "The pleasure's mine. You're as incredible as ever, Mr. Stone."

"Not 'as ever'," said Stone, taking off his own guitar and replacing it on the wall. "I've slowed down a bit, my voice has dropped some. You can't scream forever. I'm getting ready for a tour, but it might be my last one for a while."

"You're retiring?" blurted Rose.

"Eh, I'm sure I'll say that," said Stone, now taking Luka's guitar from his outstretched hand. "But I can always be teased back to the road if the fans are there… and the price is right," he added with a grin, looking at Penny. "Isn't that right, Penny?"

"If it makes you happy, it makes me happy," she said. "And it'll probably make Fang happy, too. He always appreciates the extra attention when you're home for a while."

"That said," said Stone, turning back to the teenagers, "I think you lot will be perfect."

"Perfect for what?" said Ivan.

"Tell 'em, Penny," said Stone as he walked back to his desk.

"Mr. Stone is saying he'd like Kitty Section to open for him at his show in Paris this summer."

"Really?" squeaked Juleka, who immediately looked embarrassed to have spoken up.

"For sure," said Stone, flopping back in his chair again. Once more his feet went up onto the desk. "And the other shows on the tour, if you're up for it. But Paris at least. Your duds are a close enough complement to ours, thanks to Marinette's style, and I dig your Stages of Grief album, and you just passed the sound test, so I know you can mesh with me and set me up right. The gig is yours, if you want it."

The members of Kitty Section could have been knocked over with a feather.

"Well, don't everyone respond at once," said Stone.

"We… well, we'd have to make sure we could," said Luka, playing for time, "and we'd need to plan it…"

Stone's eyes flicked across them. "Are you at least interested?"

"Yes!" shouted Rose triumphantly. Ivan gave a thumbs-up; even Juleka sheepishly nodded.

"Me too," said Luka.

"That's great, that's great!" said Stone. "I think we can make some sweet music together, I really do. Tell you what. We'll pencil you in for now, and when you're ready to work out the little things, give Penny a call, eh? And try and work out if you can tour with me, it'd be great."

The non-Luka band members held their silence until he nodded stiffly. "Sounds great, Mr. Stone. I…"

All at once, what Stone was offering him seemed to crash down on him. He put his hands in his hair. "On tour with Jagged Stone?"

"It'll be righteous," said Stone, waving his thumb and pinky in the air.

"We'll see what we can do," Luka promised.

"And give Marinette a shout-out from me," Stone added.

The other band members looked carefully at Luka. He seemed stuck for a long moment, like he was being pulled in different directions. At last, a smile emerged on his face, and they could all tell he wasn't forcing it. "I'll do that."

From then on, Luka found it much more natural to sing "Wishing You the Best".

He supposed it was a lot easier to think fondly of the woman after she kick-started his music career.

Alya sighed as she scrolled through her bank account data from the safety of her home computer. With no superhero fights for weeks and weeks, the Ladyblog had been gasping for content. She'd run a few of the "Best of" and listicles she'd been keeping in reserve for dry spells like this, but those would sustain her only so long, she knew. She'd be able to scrape through college at this rate, but a bit of cushion would have been nice.

If only those superheroes could be convinced to have some battles in places convenient to her…

She was lost in thoughts of this type when she heard a tapping at her window. Surprised, she looked over. Whatever had done it was gone now. She looked back to the monitor and had swapped over to her spreadsheet when the tapping came again.

Grunting in frustration, she stood and stormed to the window, ready to give whatever this was a piece of her mind. She raised the window to open it—

-and in popped three shapes.

"Woah—hey!" She flailed at the shapes as they buzzed in the air. She panicked—these had to be the largest and brightest bugs she'd ever—

"Lay off!" shouted one of the shapes, black in color, as the shapes gained distance from Alya's waving hands.

"Please calm down," said a red shape.

As surprise started to wear off, Alya's brain finally resolved what she was seeing. "You're not bugs," she said, peering curiously. "Are you kwamis? Carrying a letter?"

"Took you long enough," grumbled the black kwami.

"We thought you might recognize a kwami when you saw one," said the red one more charitably, "even if you hadn't seen us specifically. You've seen Trixx often enough, after all."

"Yeah… it's been a while, though," said Alya, frowning. "How is he, by the way? Is everything okay? And which ones are you?"

"Humans and their questions," said the black shape with unhidden exasperation.

"Let's see how quickly I can explain," said the red, composing herself. "Fine, yes, Tikki and Plagg."

"Wow," the black shape said. "I'm impressed."

"But you answered so fast I didn't get much information," said Alya.

"That's humans for you. Never satisfied," said the black kwami.

"I'm Tikki the Ladybug," said the red one, "and that's my partner, Plagg the Black Cat."

"So you're Ladybug and Cat Noir's kwamis?" said Alya, her voice pitching up. Excitement rushed through her. "Oh, this is so cool! I've always wanted to meet you two, I knew you had to exist but I've never seen you and I have so many questions and…"

"You've asked enough questions already," said Plagg, waving her down. "We're not here for an interview."

"Oh… well, then why are you here?" said Alya, disappointment rich in her voice.

"So that you know this message is genuine," Tikki said. "See this letter?"

"Yes," said Alya, noting what the kwamis were carrying.

"This is from Ladybug and Cat Noir," Tikki explained. "It's an update about why they haven't been seen lately, and what the future might look like."

"Gimme!" said Alya, grabbing eagerly.

The kwamis rose up, dragging the letter with them and causing Alya's grab to miss. "Not yet," said Plagg, seeming to enjoy himself for the first time. "You have to make a promise first."

"Name it," said Alya with indecent eagerness.

"Publish this on the Ladyblog," said Plagg.

"Deal," said Alya instantly. In her head she could almost hear a cash register going cha-ching from the ad revenue she was about to get…

"We'll hold you to that," said Tikki more sternly. "You might not like what it says, which is why we need you to promise."

Alya put a hand over her chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"That can be arranged," said Plagg, almost hopefully.

"Plagg!" scolded Tikki.

"What?"

"This must be something really important," said Alya, eying the envelope greedily.

"It is," said Tikki. "That's why Ladybug and Cat Noir entrusted it to you, and only you. They believed that you would follow their instructions and honor their wishes with it. And it's a reward for your faithfulness in keeping other secrets."

The words struck Alya. She felt humbled and honored.

For a second. "Now gimme!" Alya said again, making another snatch. This time she succeeded.

"We have your promise, then," Tikki said as she and Plagg floated towards the window. "Thank you! Goodbye!"

They dropped out of view, back out the window, and by the time Alya made it to the window to try and see where they'd gone they'd vanished. Vanished like they'd never been there.

She knew they must have been, because she had the letter. She opened it.

And swore.

And kept swearing the more she read.

But a promise was a promise.

Shit.

Next time: The Power of Love, Always So Strong