"Okay, wait, let me get this straight. After you made a mess throughout my house and accidentally injured each other while playing tag—"

"Actually, it was Plagg who injured us both—"

"Don't tell him that!"

"—you then broke into my mother's picture, through to my father's safe behind it—"

"I wouldn't say that we broke in, more like we explored out of the innocent temptation of curiosity—"

"Plagg, shh!"

"—and you now want me, in broad daylight, to break into that same safe also, to save your sister? Who is apparently trapped in a broach, that my dad just happens to have and that you haven't checked yet, so you don't know if she is actually in there, because it's been missing for decades?"

Tikki and Plagg looked at each other, then back at Adrien. "Yes... please?" Tikki said nervously.

Adrien blinked, "You know how that sounds, right?"

They both nodded, Plagg putting his arms behind his head casually as Tikki more anxiously wrung her paws. "We're not going to force you Adrien, I understand it's a lot of new information, but we need to know. If she's not in there, we have a much bigger problem."

"What do you mean?"

Tikki shot Plagg a questioning look and he shook his head. She sighed, "That's a, uhh, that's a conversation for another time. Right now, all we need to do is check on her. Please, Adrien. She's our little sister."

Adrien thought about it for a moment. Something about the situation felt off. Why did his father have a miraculous hidden in the house, in a secret safe— where would he have even gotten it? There was always the chance his Dad didn't know that the broach was magical, but somehow that didn't seem right. Gabriel Agreste was a methodical man, would he, all of people, really buy a trinket like that without finding out it's full history? If even anything from the production of it could harm the Agreste brand's reputation, he wouldn't even entertain buying it, let alone keeping it. The only reason that Adrien could think of was that it had sentimental value, but then, why hadn't his Dad mentioned it before?

That didn't take much thinking on. His father didn't bother to mention anything to Adrien beyond responsibilities. Really, it was a wonder he'd found out the thing existed in the first place.

He looked back at Tikki and Plagg. Tikki had clutched her paws together, leaning on Plagg a little as she patiently waited for his reply. Plagg, to a less keen eye, looked as relaxed as a kitten in a sunbeam, but Adrien could see the tense line in his shoulders; Plagg didn't want Adrien to know how worried he was.

Ultimately, that's what decided it for Adrien. If Plagg was that bothered about this, then it was important, and Adrien wasn't going to let his friend down.

"Okay." He said after a long moment. "I'm in."

The plan went about as well as expected. As soon as they'd all agreed on the plan, they set off.

Their little heist started off fine: they made it to the room with the painting without being seen. The Gorilla was cleaning up the mess he'd made in the kitchen and Nathalie wouldn't move from her computer until 6:45pm sharp, so that gave them plenty of time to get there and back without detection. Plagg and Tikki, as they moved through the house, flew with pieces of paper to the cameras, covering them for just enough time for Adrien to get past without being caught. When they reached the painting room, Plagg stuck the paper to the camera with tape, clapped his hands together cheerily, and met down with the others.

Adrien pushed the giant portrait of his mother to the side slowly, to avoid making noise. When the safe was revealed, Plagg phased through the door and opened it from the inside, swinging it wide with a bow. Tikki flew in after him and pointed at Duusu's miraculous, which Adrien promptly picked up and slid into his pocket.

The mission was a success, though Adrien had to wonder why his father had all this stuff in his safe, and why he kept his safe hidden behind a picture of Mum; it was suspicious even by his Dad's standards. He turned to leave, but stopped when he heard Tikki gasp.

She was staring at a tiny, almost Kwami-sized book hidden in the corner of the safe. It was a dark blood red, ornate, with a golden clasp keeping it closed and pretty hand drawn pictures of (what Adrien assumed were) Kwami on the front. In a decorated oval charm attached to the front was some loopy writing in a language Adrien couldn't understand. It looked almost like water: it kept moving and he couldn't focus on it so he had no clue as to what it could mean, but Tikki apparently did. She shot over to the little book and held her hands over the writing, moving her paws as the text tried to dodge them.

"Adrien don't look! Don't r-r-read— don't look at it! P-Plagg it's the thing!"

"What? What thing, what are you talk—"

Tikki cut off his complaining, sounding more and more frantic, her stutter already kicking in, "No, P-Plagg, the thing, the th-thing... the ori-ori-ginal ba-b-ba-bad thing."

Somewhere in Plagg's tiny brain realisation hit him like a freight train. "Oh no, no no no, who... why? Who put that in a book? Who wrote that book?"

Tikki was shaking, pressing down on the book to keep it closed, as if she could make it disappear by sitting on it. Her voice wobbled so it was hard to make out what she was saying, but Plagg had plenty of experience understanding Tikki's panicked gobbledegook. She said, still stuttering and barely making sense, "I don't know, it-it d-doesn't say, but we, we, but we c-can't l-let him— let anyone— let them see— them look— them read about it, P-Plagg. We c-can't!"

She didn't need to say anymore. Plagg understood, and she was right. Adrien couldn't see what was in that book. If it's contents were as realistic as his memories, that book was a nightmare wrapped in leather and paper. If his charge was to read it, it would change the way he saw him and his kind forever and he couldn't let that happen, not yet, perhaps not ever. It would tear the kid apart to know.

He couldn't lose Adrien too.

Tikki's eyes were wide with fear as she gently and carefully lifted the book and hugged it, scared that she'd drop it and it would open on impact. She seemed on the verge of having an airborne panic attack, of fainting again, so Adrien, ever the considerate gentlemen, went to pick her up, concern etched onto his face, but she flinched away.

"You c-can't l-l-look!" She said, her words and volume still jumbling as she tried to calm herself down, "It's ba-ba-bad! Don't!"

Plagg floated over, his ears pinned back even as he tried to reassure Tikki. He took her arm, not trying to take the book off her, and led her towards Adrien's pocket, whispering comfortingly. It was bizarre to see Plagg acting so tender, in the same way it was bizarre to see him controlling his temper or snide remarks, but Tikki brought out a side to him that not many got to see: the overprotective brother. Though he didn't fully understand what was happening, Adrien waited patiently until the two of them were settled before silently locking the safe and putting the painting back in it's place.

The heist didn't seem so fun now.

Adrien raced back to the room as fast as he could manage without raising suspicion, Plagg zipping out every now and again to cover the camera lenses. As soon as he reached his room and shut the door, Tikki scrambled out of the pocket to hide herself somewhere in the second floor bookcase, dragging the little book behind her. Plagg sighed. He floated to his charge's shoulder and dangled his legs off the edge. "Lemme guess... you wanna know was that was?"

Adrien raised an eyebrow. Plagg sighed. "Look kid, there's some stuff you just don't wanna know, not right now. The contents of that book... it's one of those things, and before you even think about trying to read it, only a Kwami can open a lock like that."

"But Tikki said—"

"I told you before, remember, she's not good with drama." He waved a hand at Adrien's concerned expression. "She'll be fine, but nothing she says right now will make much sense. Don't touch the book. It's probably cursed and I can't say how for sure how it would effect you."

He said this with such a somber but final tone that Adrien didn't argue. As much as he wanted to know, he also understood that there were some lines you just didn't cross, so he didn't ask for answers, he just accepted it. He was used to keeping his mouth shut like a good little boy after all.

Plagg silently nodded at Adrien, lifting off his shoulder to go to the bookcase, where he could hear tiny high pitched sniffles. His expression softened as he peered between two books. "Hey, Spots."

Tikki looked up at him and shuffled further into the gap to give Plagg some space to sit. He wiped a tear from her eye and gave her a hug, knowing that it'd mean more to her than any pretty words he could try to fumble through. It was peaceful for a minute, the only noise breaking the silence was the occasional sniff from Tikki and, weirdly, it felt as if nothing could hurt them there, between the vintage mint copies of Vogue. For a second, the both of them could imagine that they hadn't seen years upon years of death and anger and hate, as if they hadn't lived for centuries and experienced everything, as if they hadn't lost anyone to time, to evil or to... other, more sinister means.

For that one precious second, they could think that they were still innocent children; they were just having a bad dream and they could wake up in the morning and go back to playing, like it had never happened.

Tikki shuffled and the illusion was broken. Plagg sat back, the air heavy. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "So, uh, how do you know this book has the thing in it?"

"The pictures on the front, we've both seen them before. Look." Tikki had set the book down in front of her, still tightly clasped. The various golden Kwami on the front had at first seemed to be dancing and singing, but closer inspection showed that they were writhing in pain, clutching at their throats and screaming, glittering gemstones littering the cover like an infestation.

Plagg gulped.

Tikki put a paw on the book, careful not touching any of the cruel designs, and looked to Plagg for confirmation. He took her other hand and nodded. Turning back to the book, Tikki stared hard at it, her glow burning brighter slowly as she began to hum under her breath, the dark space in between the magazines lighting up in red. As the minutes passed, Tikki gripped Plagg's paw tighter and tighter as the strain of trying to undo the spell on the book took its toll. It wasn't easy, age had allowed the spell to gain a greater grip on the book, like rust covering a pipe, and it was taking a lot of Tikki's strength to remove it.

Gradually, the words began to clear until the loopy writing read, in the oldest language of the Kwami: 'The Beginning of Forever'. Despite the situation, Plagg snorted. "What kind of a dumb name is that? This book's stupid."

She managed a small smile, which Plagg took as a victory. He watched her take a deep breath and make her glow shine brighter, placing her paw on the oval charm. She hummed the note for 'open' and the clasp rattled. She furrowed her brow and groaned, "It... doesn't... wanna... release... the.."

"Need help?" Plagg said, just as the lock clicked and swung open. Tikki shuddered as she relaxed, silently wishing she'd grabbed some more sugar before this.

Plagg put his paw on her shoulder, "We don't have to do this now, Tikki. We can wait."

She shook her head, "We've been waiting for thousands of years already, Plagg. This... this book could have answers, it could have a cu-cure—" Wincing at the stutter, she cut off and took another deep breath. She started again, "It could have a cure. I know it's unlikely that the solution's in here, but with a powerful seal on it like that... maybe it's more. You and I both know He wouldn't have wanted us to find the cure, if there is one, and we both know He wasn't below forcing us to charm objects for His own personal gain. He could have very easily had one of us charm this lock."

Plagg could feel the bitterness in her voice. He felt the exact same way. If there was anyone he truly hated in this forsaken hell pit of a world, it was Him. That guy could go choke on His cheese.

"Besides," Tikki continued, "If we wait, we might never pick it up again."

She pushed the book so it was sat in between them and Plagg was suddenly struck with the strangeness of the situation. Every stupid decision he'd made in his unfortunately lengthy life had led to this moment: two scared ancient beings hiding in a bookcase staring at a tiny little novel like it could kill them with a word, and maybe it could, but that didn't make the situation any less insane. He almost wanted to laugh, but Tikki would probably slap him, so he bit his lip to stop himself for giggling like a mad cat. He put his paw on the edge of the cover and they both tensed.

"Now or never, huh?"

"Wow, I've never heard those words before."

"Shut up, you're as frightened as I am, stu-stupid."

"Well, I'm not a lucky bug. Any booby traps in this thing are going to head straight for me. Curiosity can kill, y'know."

"...I am pretty lucky."

"Yeah... and I'm ugly unlucky. I'm opening it." He flipped the cover over.

Marinette was having the worst day of her life.

Not only had she tripped twice, lost her bag and once again embarrassed herself in front of the very famous, incredibly handsome Adrien Agreste, she was now certain that she'd accidentally drowned Tikki.

After searching for hours up and down the river, Mari had found nothing to suggest that Tikki or her bag had even been in the river in the first place. She didn't want to give up searching: if there was one thing Tikki preached above all else, it was that Marinette needed to believe more. Believe in herself, believe in her confidence, believe in Chat; the list went on and on, but it didn't help find Tikki any faster and she was losing the daylight hours. Eventually, after hours of searching, she had no choice but to go home and help her parents pack up the bakery for the day.

She was the worst superhero ever; who loses their sentient sidekick bug mask? Who does that? Chat Noir would never let her live down if he knew.

As she was rounding up the last of the croissants on to the reject tray, she heard the bakery bell ring as someone walked through the door. "Sorry we're closed— Oh! Alya, hi!"

Her greeting was returned with a distracted wave as her friend nearly tripped her way through the door. Alya was struggling to carry what looked like, at the very least, almost thirteen or fourteen shopping bags, though to give her credit she was trying her hardest to stay upright. There was a moment where Marinette just watched the ridiculous image of her best friend, saddled like a packhorse, trying to fit through a door frame that was clearly too small for the bulk of her purchases before she thought to herself 'I should probably actually help her'.

Marinette sighed, putting down her pastry tray to go and relieve Alya of some of her burdens. She placed the carrier bags on the counter as Alya fiddled with her phone, which she had immediately pulled out of her pocket the moment her hands were free, as Mari organised herself around the sudden mass of things in the bakery's entrance.

Alya grinned, slipping her phone back into her pocket, "Oh, thanks! Mari, you won't believe what happened today! So first, I was coming back from my journalism class—"

"Oh, how was that?" Mari murmured as she went back to packing away the pain au chocolat, nudging one of Alya's paper bags further back on the work space so it wouldn't fall off.

"It was great, so much fun, I learned tons, but I'll tell you about that later. So, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're missing your bag right? The little pink one?"

Marinette froze, her still hand holding an apple danish tantalisingly close to the reject tray. She felt the blood drain from her face. There was no way— Alya couldn't have— "Y-Yeah? How did you know?"

Alya grinned, "Because I found it on the—"

"You didn't look inside did you?" Mari blurted, already starting to panic.

Alya looked confused. "What? Yeah I did. Why? Was there something important in there?"

Relief washed through her. The danish was placed, carefully and precisely, no need for alarm. Alya hadn't seen Tikki, thank god, her identity was safe; not to mention the two of them had narrowly escaped a four hour interview at least from Ladybug's most dedicated fan. As quickly as the relief had come, however, panic spiked again. If Alya hadn't seen Tikki, then she hadn't been in the bag.

If she wasn't in the bag, then where on earth was she?

Marinette asked Alya if she had the little bag with her, trying as hard as she could to channel her inner Ladybug and stay calm. She was definitely not imagining worst case scenarios. She was 1000% calm, no doubt, no doubt.

"Uhh, yeah, hang on it's in my satchel." After rummaging around a bit, Alya passed over the spare carrier bag containing Mari's soaked purse, which Marinette wasted no time in ripping apart. "Woah, girl, slow down! What's in there that's so important? Your last shred of sanity?"

She gave Alya a dry look as she pulled the homemade bag open. Sure enough, no Tikki, there was only her phone and some stray cookie mush left. Alya put a hand on her shoulder. "Mari, what's the matter? What was in the bag?"

"It doesn't matter now." Marinette said, trying not to cry, "She's not here."

"Who?"

Oops.

"Uh, I... bought a hamster?" The excuse sounded lame even to her ears. Alya, the queen of strange looks, looked ready to question Mari without mercy, but she was interrupted by Sabine and Tom walking in from the kitchen to greet her. Marinette had dodged a bullet, but Tikki was still gone, Alya was now suspicious of her new, apparently missing hamster and she still hadn't finished her chores.

She didn't even want to think about the embarrassing incident with Adrien earlier, she had enough on her plate without debating whether or not her life was practically over or her life was officially over.

Well, at least it couldn't get any worse.

André Bourgeois had started the day in a good mood.

He'd enjoyed his favourite french toast and syrup breakfast, despite Chloe's advice that the 'carbs would make him fat', decided on some new healthy eating policies as he left the house, and his favourite sash had been freshly washed and pressed, so that he felt he looked exceedingly dashing, to say the least. By all means, he should've been happy, but unfortunately an upsetting video sent to him by his assistant had soured his otherwise agreeable mood:

"This is Nadja Chamack reporting. Inside sources from within the Paris head office claim that there is significant evidence that suggests current Mayor of Paris André Bourgeois has been using government funds to purchase gifts for his daughter instead of developing and improving the city."

"Chloe Bourgeois, the fifteen year old daughter of the mayor, has recently been seen sporting the latest in current fashion couture and suspicions were raised when she arrived at school yesterday in an unreleased Vivienne Westwood ensemble. Sources close to the young Bourgeois claim she'd had her father buy the dress for her as an early birthday present, though insiders claim that this is not the first expensive gift he has bought for her this year. Earlier this year, the young Bourgeois was seen sporting various products from Coco Chanel, Dior and Calvin Klein, amongst other famous designer brands. None of the products in question had been released to the public at the time of Bourgeois' purchase and rumours of Bourgeois using political persuasion for personal presents is on the rise amongst opposition and the electorate."

"Is this blatant misuse of political power harmful to Paris? Many believe so, and there has been an outcry on social media for further scrutiny amongst Bourgeois' party, as people feel that their tax money should be better spent by the governing body. Some have even gone so far as to say that Bourgeois' parenting is not only harmful for his daughter, but sets a bad example to single parents and young parents struggling with difficult children across the country. As an influential figure, Bourgeois' behaviour is always in the spotlight, as is his daughter's, and many believe his poor parental skills could lead to an increase in parenting concerns across Paris. More on this story at eight."

Andre clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Him? A bad parent?

He raised his darling Chloe from a toddler practically all by himself and look at her! Beautiful, popular, ambitious; she was the perfect daughter. So what if he got her an expensive gift or two now and again? She deserved the very best! Besides, it wasn't like he was the first father to dote on his daughter. This Nadja Chamack had no right to criticise his parenting, she was a mother herself wasn't she? As far as he knew, the child had even been Akumatised; some parenting that was!

How dare she suggest he wasn't a good father? How dare she?

A black butterfly flew through the gap in the car window and into his sash.

"Perfect Candidate. My name is Hawkmoth and I have a deal for you..."