Past
Adrien started the day off miserable, and it wasn't even because he had a date with Lila.
He'd been so hopeful when Su-Han introduced the concept of chatting it up with past cat users. Finally, he'd clear up all this confusion with the visions, maybe get some answers about the butterfly miraculous' little curse. But, of course, a little progress was too much to ask for.
Up early in the morning, he'd practically zoomed over to the Louvre in his pyjamas, snatching poor Plagg out of his make-shift sock sleeping bag with only left over cheese from last night to silence the little gremlin's whining. It had taken a few minutes of wondering and squinting to find the guardian symbol Alya told him about, and even more minutes just work up the courage to start the process.
Yeah, the 'ghosts he'd be meeting were complete strangers, fragments of memories put together to simulate the real person, but they were other Chat Noirs. People who'd completed tehri full tour of duty with Plagg, whose legacy he carried on his shoulder; so yeah, Adrien was nervous to meet any of them. What if they didn't like him? What if they thought he was no good and told him to give up his miraculous? What if he embarrassed them? He could not handle rejection right now.
And then what happens when he finally bites the bullet and says the magic word? The room darkens, the magic symbols materialize around him and… Nothing. He tried looking for Shadow Paw amongst the magical portraits, but the blind swordsman was nowhere to be found. He attempted to summon the Chat Noirs that he could actually see, and nothing happened. He spent at least twenty minutes turning it off and on again and blowing on the kwagatama.
Was the kwagatama broken? It's not like Adrien mishandled it or anything, he'd always kept it somewhere safe. Was Plagg out-of-sorts? He'd only had a little bit of cheese today, but that couldn't hurt the kwami that much, that was just Plagg being dramatic. The worst thought his mind conjured was that his and Plagg's bond wasn't strong enough, even after almost five years of fighting side-by-side. The reason given for why they couldn't use the Ladybug earrings to talk to Marinette was that the reunion ability was exclusively attained by holders who developed a deep bond with a kwami and received a kwagatami made from that bond. And Tikki had never had such an opportunity to bond with him.
That theory seemed the most plausible. After all, when Plagg had given Adrien the kwagamta, it was out of simple necessity, because he simply thought he'd might as well give it to Adrien. And nothing Plagg said to ease him did anything to sway his mind. He feared being unworthy of Chat Noir, and now he'd just gone ahead of proved it.
The thoughts fogged up his mind for the rest of the day, reaching Lila's meeting point through a filter of self-deprecating remarks and Plagg's nasally interjections.
Adrien arrived at the café in a haze, barely registering Cerise's saccharine greeting as she waved him over to a table by the window. The light filtered through her perfectly styled hair, giving her an ethereal glow that seemed so at odds with the monster he knew she was beneath the surface.
"Adrien! Over here!" Cerise's voice rang out, honeyed and sweet. The kind of tone that could make someone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even while she sharpened the knife to plunge into their back.
He forced a smile and slid into the seat across from her, his movements mechanical. She launched into some story about the coffee shop's history, something about how it was frequented by foreign dignitaries in the 1800s. Her words buzzed in his ears, but Adrien didn't listen. He sipped at his coffee, the bitterness matching the taste in his mouth, and observed her.
Everything about Cerise was flawless, from the way her lashes fluttered as she spoke, to the perfectly coordinated outfit that screamed casual elegance. She wore her charisma like armor, drawing the attention of every barista, every patron who glanced her way. But Adrien knew better. He knew what she really was. Chrysalis. The orchestrator of so much pain, the one who'd turned Paris into a battleground.
He knew her identity now. He knew she was the villain behind everything. And yet, here she was, smiling at him as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, while he struggled just to meet her gaze without his stomach twisting in knots.
And that's what stung the most—she didn't know him. She didn't know he was Chat Noir. She had no idea that the boy sitting across from her was the one who'd undone so many of her plans. She had no inkling that he'd been fighting her in the shadows for months now. And yet, even with that advantage, even with his knowledge of her secret, Adrien felt like he was always lagging behind.
Every step forward he took, she skipped three ahead. Every time he thought he'd outmaneuvered her, she spun the board in her favor. And now, on this date, Adrien felt it more acutely than ever. She was in control.
The walk by the lake was picturesque, the kind of scene that would have been romantic if it were with anyone else. Cerise looped her arm through his, leaning her head closer to his shoulder as she pointed out the swans gliding across the water. Adrien barely noticed. He was focused on her reflection in the lake, the way her face betrayed not a hint of discomfort or guilt.
How does she do it? he wondered, his grip on his coffee tightening. How does she keep it all together?
He studied her as they walked, watching for cracks in the façade. Was there anything—anything—that might expose her vulnerability? Was it all an act, or was there some part of her that truly believed she was the hero of her story?
For a moment, he imagined what it would take to make her feel even a fraction of what he felt. The shame. The guilt. The helplessness that came with knowing he couldn't protect everyone, couldn't save everyone. If he could just get one win over her—just one—it would feel like a victory, even if it was small.
Adrien was painfully aware that her eyes never left him, even as she ducked into the morning glow to sprinkle bread into the ducks' path he could feel her gaze searching for him at her back, devoted to the only thing in the world that deserved her attention.
He also realized, in that moment, how his eyes never left her. How they roamed and yet couldn't escape her, the rest of the world drowned out by the woman he hated most. He told himself that it was paranoia, not interest, that he was watching for the moment her true face broke free and she pulled a weapon from the folds of her pocket.
He told himself that the butterfly had some unknown sway over him, that something else was keeping him in place, a spell, a curse, something other than himself.
It had to be, because he couldn't imagine any other reason he so readily blurted out "You're Lila Rossi."
Cerise tilted her head back, the surprise on her face only a brief flash before being replaced with a smile. She wasn't expecting his accusation, yet she didn't fear how much he knew. "I am."
"You're Chrysalis." He spat, his tongue barbed with venom, hoping for the satisfaction of seeing her scramble.
But he got nothing. She rose to her full height, turning to him at the perfect angle to let the sun's light hit her back with a heavenly glow that did not belong on such a devilish woman. "Yes."
She sauntered over to him, his eyes betraying him to roam over her, to see the parts that were so explicitly Lila that he never bothered to notice before, and how naturally she moved. She was a predator, a monster, and she was advancing upon him. He should feel fear, he should feel anger; he shouldn't feel intrigued by how daintily, yet purposeful, she managed to move.
"And Chalot..." He just couldn't stop his mouth from moving. There was so many alarm bells that this information should tip off for her, but she was unaffected. All he could see when she loomed under him, her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes swimming in his own, was how happy she was to hear him say it. He'd figured her out, and she loved him for it, didn't she?
"Is your dear old uncle, yes." She admitted with a breathless edge. She'd been drowning in the deep end of her own façade, and Adrien had just pulled her to the surface. Even in his attempt to hurt her, to corner her; he'd only pleased her.
He watched her jaw shake loose, hanging as a shuddering pendulum as she hurried to her next question. "Did you get my letter then?"
She spoke of it so delicately, bashfully peering down at her fingers. You'd think she was a shy schoolgirl talking about a simple love note. Was that what it was in her twisted view? Some heartwarming message?
In reality, Adrien knowing any of these details were suspicious enough that they should have her questioning him, should have her skirting the edge of his true identity; it was stupid of him to risk it all for a petty jab. And yet, Lila didn't ask how he realized these things, she didn't care what his knowledge could suggest, she just wanted to know that he heard her.
Adrien scoffed, "You mean the serial killer manifesto?"
There's a laugh, but Adrien couldn't hear any humour, it sounded more like a reflex. She waved him off, a cheeky smile in tow. "Well, it's better than the usual fan girl drivel you get on a weekly basis."
Adrien crossed his arms, making no secret of his growing aggravation as he spoke through gritted teeth. "You're taking all of this well for someone I could out for being a supervillain right now."
A bemused grin met his frown, one that just said 'aww, how cute' at the puppy who was stuck chasing their tail. "If you wanted to take this to the police, we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we?" She leaned her head back, lips curling and cheeks hollowing to chew over her thoughts. "Though if you've stopped yourself because of a lack of evidence, or because you're curious, I'll have to wait and see to find out."
"Really?" Adrien dared to lean over, to get in her face and scrutinize that perfect mask of hers. No sweat, no twitch, no restraint; Lila looked perfectly content and Adrien hated it. "So, it doesn't get to you that I saw through your greatest lie yet?"
She laced her fingers together, restraining them before they gave into the natural instinct to reach out to him, "I told you in the letter, Adrien." She said quietly, her breath struggling to not huff and puff like she was choking. "For you, I am an open book. Anything goes. I want you to figure me out. It's the one thing I want most in the whole world."
He hated how his heart leapt at her words, hated the part of him that was eager to let her speak. He was a cat at heart, and cats were dangerously curious things, weren't they? "Anything, huh?"
"Anything." She breathed into his neck, redirecting her strained fingers to prop up her chin. "I can tell you my story, tell you everything that got me to here; everything I aim to achieve and how I will attain it. Or maybe you just want to know my hobbies."
"What, you're gonna tell me all the secrets of your operation just because I say 'please'?"
She looked almost offended, running her fingers over her cheek, pressing down on the flesh until she was beet red. "Come now, I would never force you to be polite to get your answers. If you want to ask me while slinging around all sorts of horrible names and swears, I'd still tell you."
Lila was a liar. Lila always lied. Nothing that came out of this monster's mouth would mean a damn. Adrien was wasting his time, and he knew it, but something kept him rooted to the spot, stuck under the sway of her voice, of her promise. She was beautiful to him in every way that hurt. "That makes no sense, if this plan of yours is so important to you, why would you risk me telling the heroes about every detail?"
One rogue hand broke from her grip, jumping across the gap and lunging for his cheek only to be stopped mere inches from grazing him. She wanted to embrace him so badly, but she knew that she couldn't, knew that more than anything she needed him to welcome it. Her voice came out soft on his ears, enveloping him in the sensation of silk over his shoulders. "Because we do stupid things when we're in love."
Love. Love was for fairy tales; it was for the once-in-a-lifetime romance that makes every stumble to get there worth it. Love was what got Adrien out of bed, what made the heroes strong, what made his heart twist up in red hot knots whenever he caught a glimpse of Marinette. Love was warmth, belonging and hope. Love was everything Lila was not.
It was pure and couldn't be associated with a demon wearing the face of a girl. Monsters like Lila, they weren't capable of love, only ownership. She could never love him, that above all else was what Adrien told himself was gospel.
She seemed to shrink away, her hand returning to her side, lying limp as if wounded. "Of course, I know that you have no reason to trust me."
"You've got that right." Adrien growled, "You're a professional fraud sowing paranoia across Paris and turning innocent people into a hateful mob."
"I am what life made of me." Lila said bitterly, giving him a tired shrug. "I was born, raised and moulded by a world of lies, Adrien. All I've seen is the people we've been told to trust let us down again, and again, and again for their own selfish ways. It's all I've known."
He allowed himself to laugh at that, shaking his head. With no mirth, only malice, he clapped for Lila's excuse. "And now you've suddenly had a change of heart. Lucky me."
"I've had a change of… Opportunity." She turned her head away, almost looking ashamed. "I couldn't change the world before, even with the butterfly miraculous all I could hope was infamy and freedom for myself alone. But now I've come to realize just how much I can do, if I'm willing to expand my limitations."
Sniggering was most unbecoming of Adrien, but he couldn't bring himself to care, sweeping his hands over his hair as he circled Lila. For a brief moment, he found something to stand upon, a sliver of an edge over her. He wouldn't allow himself to be tripped up by her pity party ever again, he'd make her choke on it. "You torment Marinette, find God and then decide to kill Marinette. Oh my, you really have sorted yourself out."
She went silent, but as soon as Adrien let himself believe he'd gotten to her, she looked back up at him… Prideful and impressed. "Colt was right, you have grown a bit of an attitude. I'm so proud."
"Yes, I tried to hurt Marinette with my lies." She admitted with a heavy sigh, "I was immature, and petty."
A thought hit her mid-sentence, creating a pause that was only broken by her snapping her fingers. "Though, I wonder who you think came out worse; the one who lied, or the so-called friends who believed the liar?"
Leaning far enough to the side to tip her body over, Lila spun around on her heel, gaze ascending towards the city skyline, the memories scattered to the wind. "Realistically, my lies should have, at worst, been mild." She murmured, an underlying disgust rattling her voice. "I tell the principle that Marinette shoved me, neither of us can disprove the other, and the old owl just tells us to steer clear of one another."
"Instead, it became an entire incident." Her voice gained power under the rasp of a growl, followed by her arms lashing out at the air. "Not because I lied well or had evidence on my side against Marinette. No, it was because everyone around her were ready to assume the worst of her over the worst of some stranger who told them that she was cool. Some might even say eager."
Adrien's eyes narrowed, remaining unmoved. "It sounds like a lot of words wasted just to deflect the blame."
"It's not deflecting, it's sharing." She shot back simply, shrugging off his aggression. "It's like Hawkmoth, or Chrysalis; our crimes are great, but we literally wouldn't be able to commit them without other people willingly enabling us."
So, deflecting? He snapped in his head. It was all just an excuse in the end. Yeah, people technically had a choice whether or not to be akumatized or believe Lila, but they didn't know they had a choice really. They were manipulated, taken advantage of; you can't blame someone for being tricked, can you?
Instead of voicing his retort and risking devolving into a tiresome debate, Adrien instead just settled for rolling his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"
She stretched her arm out over the distance between them, unable to reach him, but maintaining her open hand. "Because I know how much you hate me right now, and I know you don't want to believe what I'm saying, so I needed to show you our common ground."
"Common ground?" He spat out the words like they were slurs. The idea of having anything in common with Lila sickened him to his very core.
She tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes shimmering with an unreadable mixture of pity and disgust. "I know you're surrounded with friends, people who love you, who tell you that they'll have your back no matter what." Her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "And I know you sit in your room, and you remember that they said the same thing to Marinette. And you wonder, when the time comes, how eager they will be to believe the worst in you."
Her arm retreated back to her chest, hand pressed tight against her heart. "You can't trust me, but you know me." Lila's lips curled into a small, sad smile, and for a moment, Adrien thought he saw something genuine in her expression—something that almost resembled regret. "On some level you recognise me, so you'll know on that same level whether or not I'm lying."
Adrien flinched, his expression hardening, but he said nothing. Nothing Lila said mattered. Lila only knew how to lie. There was nothing to think about, nothing she could offer him.
Adrien's scowl deepened. "What do you want from me?"
Lila smiled faintly, almost wistfully. "Just your time. You lose nothing by hearing me talk. At worst, I'm lying, and you can throw away everything I say."
He hesitated, his better instincts screaming at him to walk away, to leave her standing there alone. And yet, curiosity—dangerous and relentless—kept him rooted to the spot.
"Alright. Fine. I'll play along for now," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's start with the miraculous. How'd you get it from Monarch?"
Lila's smile widened, her confidence blooming like a flower in the sunlight. "Leading up to Monarch's final battle, I discovered his identity and his whole plan with the Alliance rings."
She paused deliberately, clearly waiting for Adrien to ask the obvious question: Who was Monarch? The answer Ladybug had refused to give him. She was baiting him, tempting him to break his resolve and hand her the satisfaction of his curiosity.
Adrien said nothing.
Her lips twitched with mild disappointment, but she pressed on. "It was a fun month, really. Felt like I was in a heist movie—casing the joint, breaking into the security, figuring out where he kept the goods."
"You had no way to make him drop the Butterfly miraculous on your own," Adrien said bluntly.
"It wasn't the target," Lila admitted. "I was going after any miraculous I could find. I figured there had to be a stash somewhere."
Adrien shook his head. "He always had them on him, didn't he?"
She smirked. "I didn't figure that out at the time. One of the times he made an in-person appearance, I noticed those rings on his fingers that clearly weren't miraculous. I theorized that the real miraculous were somewhere else, and he was using them remotely somehow."
"And during his final attack?"
"That's when I made my move." Lila's voice turned more animated as she continued, reliving the moment. "The whole city-wide invasion plan screamed final showdown. Felt like the right time to strike. I figured he'd be too busy hunting down the heroes to notice me sneaking into his lair. The plan was simple: find his stash, take the miraculous, and then swoop in to take him down."
Adrien found himself smirking at the image in his head, of Lila stumbling into a simple smash-and-grab job interrupted by Monarch and Ladybug crashing through the wall and almost squashing her flat. "And instead, you found yourself in the middle of the match of the century."
Lila groaned. "I was gonna abort, honestly. But then I convinced myself I could swoop in at the last minute, after one of them beat the other."
"Did you see everything?"
"Not everything. Most of it was a blur. But I saw how it ended." Her voice dipped, laced with a rare hint of genuine admiration. "Marinette… She put up one hell of a fight."
"How'd you get to the Butterfly miraculous, then? They had to have seen you."
"They would have if I'd gone down there directly." Lila smirked, her tone almost teasing. "They ended up breaking through the floor and dropping into some underground basement. Lucky for me, I didn't need to follow them."
Adrien narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"
"I used the stairs," she said nonchalantly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Adrien blinked. "Stairs?"
"The hidden passage behind the fireplace," she elaborated. "Oh, sorry, I forgot. You probably don't know about all the secret rooms in your house."
After a beat of stunned silence passed, Lila hastily added on with an uncharacteristically nervous wheeze "I haven't been watching you, I swear."
Fortunately, Adrien could confirm for himself that she was telling the truth there. If she had been watching the lair recently, they wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place. Still, if there were indeed all these hidden passages around the mansion, the team needed to get on top of sealing them up pronto. Goodness knows when Lila's creep factor will kick up and have her trying to sneak a peak at him in the night.
He could only imagine it being a future headache just finding all these passages.
Which reminded him of how strange it was that Lila could know that they existed in the first place. "How would you know about rooms that even me and my father didn't know about?"
Lila drew closer, creeping forward at a staggered stride, as if her knees had trouble holding her weight. Her eyes narrowed into scrutinizing slips and her vicious grin returned at full force – she was waiting for a reaction. "My Grandfather passed down all of his journals and what not, kept meticulous detail of everything he did to turn that mansion into a fortress." She paused on her tip toes, gazing at Adrien from his side-profile. "It was his home once, after all."
"His home…?"
Thunder boomed. The blue sky was washed away with clouds and rain. And Adrien realized the connection between it all.
"You're a Salvadore."
Now that managed to catch Lila off guard, breaking the calm demeanour to show off her shocked, blinking eyelids. "You know about him?"
Adrien averted his gaze, busying himself with unfurling his umbrella. "I know that he was the man who used to own the mansion, and that my father worked for him."
"Do you know that your father stole that mansion after murdering my grandfather?"
There was no bite to her words, just simple curiosity.
"No." Adrien let the word slip out before his brain could catch up with the accusation. It was so easy to just accept the idea that his father murdered someone with no context even if he internally wanted to protest the accusation. "Is that what all this is about?"
Lila swept her hair back, the pouring rain doing nothing to deter her. "No, I was just curious." She said simply, a giggle escaping her as she shot him a smile that almost seemed genuine. "Don't worry, all that nasty business is between them; it has nothing to do with you and me."
It was a strange feeling, believing her despite his better judgement reminding him again and again who he was dealing with.
After a straight minute of silent staring, watching as Lila made no move to protect herself from the rain, entirely too absorbed in their conversation even when it was lacking, Adrien sighed. He shuffled forward, beckoning her under the shelter of his umbrella. "Then what is this all about?"
For once, Lila was speechless; and even she was surprised by it. She'd probably rehearsed this, came here so confident and passionate about her pleas to Adrien, it had to have been something she was always waiting to do since this plan started. And yet, the moment came for her spotlight, for her to explain, and the words were caught in her throat.
Even Lila had stage fright here and there it seemed.
She looked sheepish as she breathed out, "My grandfather was murdered by his apprentice. My parents got squashed by a supervillain."
This time, her smile was forced, straining her cheeks. Lila didn't like to show weakness, even when she was presenting herself as a victim, but even her mask couldn't fight back what her own words were reminding her of. "Everyone I was told to trust, everyone who was supposed to protect me let me down." The smile twitched and, for a split second, it was an indignant snarl. "The superheroes up in New York decided that my parent's killer didn't deserve prison, instead they sent her up to some cushy reformation centre; bet that didn't have anything to do with her being related to America's leading hero."
Adrien's mind couldn't help but think back to the information Andre gave them, his mind already working overtime to work through the connections. She had been honest about her parents, about a hero not doing their job, and he knew she was being honest.
For one thing, he didn't think Lila could ever swallow her pride enough to construct a lie that didn't uplift her. In all her stories, she gave herself a certain strength, something to admire; even when she was the victim, she was the strong, ever enduring and ever hopeful victim. In this one, she was just a tragedy, hopeless and bitter.
The second reason was simple; he knew who she was talking about. Cassandra Smith, a miraculous task force lieutenant, former super villain Rupture, saved from jail and transferred to a reformation program by the mercy of her cousin, Olympia Hill - AKA the president of the United States, or the leading superhero Majestia.
Which brought up the obvious question: why would Lila keep around one of the people responsible for her tragic life as a henchman? Were all the members of the task force someone who wronged Lila, or Colt, or even Felix? Is their part in the plan some sort of punishment?
Unburdened by Adrien's thought, Lila carried on with a bitter laugh, throwing her hands up, catching the rain before it hit her. "Fuck, the only thing keeping my aunt and uncle from throwing me to the wolves was a lie about me getting an inheritance from my grandpa." She bent herself over, furiously beating her fingers against her forehead, still forcing a laugh. "See, little me had to lie real quick, because lying was the only thing that this world understands. The only one who didn't fail me was Colt."
"That's what this is all about, Adrien." Like the rain drops, she was relentless and only became more vigorous, a manic pace to her voice and motions, stomping about the wretched world she rallied against. "We have all these heroes, all these people we're constantly told to look up to, to trust in, because they're the good guys. Because they're an inspiration. They're everything right in the world, they say all the right things and sell all the right ideas."
Her body shivered, but not from the cold, not from the rain, not from all the breath she was wasting. She shook under the weight of what she'd been so desperately trying to keep under wraps, something that unfurled her perfect hair, that broke apart that tailored smile, that stripped her pose of grace; her unfettered anger.
"And it's all a fucking lie." She snarled, whipping around to jab her finger in Adrien's direction. But he didn't flinch, he didn't feel the heat of her words; because he knew they were directed at everyone except him. "Your father grinds you under his heel, twists every aspect of your life to his vision, locks in a fucking box until you agree to throw away any shred of agency you managed to claw out of your life – and then the world turns around tells you to respect him, to feel ashamed that you ever questioned the hero of Paris."
His bile was instinctive and quick to lash out. "Don't you dare talk about my father."
His demand went unheard, Lila slashing her fingers, curled up and raised like claws, through the air. The super villain was gone, the care and poise was shattered; there was only the undignified, raw spite. "They tell you to be happy with your lot in life, that being reduced to a brand label is a privilege because the right thing only matters when it's convenient."
The umbrella clattered to the ground, the rain soaking them both as Adrien's fury spilled over. His chest heaved, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I said shut up!" He growled, pain from an open wound he'd forgotten he had seeping into his voice.
He knew his father did his best, he knew that he never set out to hurt Adrien. He knew that. He knew it! His father made it his last act to die as a hero! Lila didn't get to disrespect his father, or Marinette, or anybody he loved like this. She didn't have the fucking right.
Lila took a half-step back, blinking at the venom in Adrien's voice. For once, she was caught off guard. Her lips parted, but no immediate rebuttal came to mind. Instead, she studied him—really studied him—her sharp, predatory gaze softening into something that looked far too close to understanding.
"You deserve so much more." She said gently, a protective anger simmering under the surface, but she didn't let it consume her. Not for the façade, not for the ego, but because she didn't want to lash out at him. "And no one will give it to you." Her lips trembled, there was no smile, but no frown either. Just a confusing mess of emotions she couldn't focus on. "Because they don't see you as a person, they see you as a doll."
"And you don't?" He cried out, throwing himself forward. He wanted to reach out and grab her, shake her, let her feel all the pain she'd unleashed upon him as his nail dug into her skin. But he stopped himself inches away from her, towering over her with a savage snarl, dishevelled hair and an intense gaze. "You don't know me, but you sure seem ready to put all your little traumatic accessories on me, looking at me like I'm some emotional mannequin."
For a moment, they stood frozen in the storm, the rain washing over them, clinging to their skin like the tension clung to the air. Adrien's chest heaved as he stared down at her, his fury barely held in check. Lila didn't step back. Her golden eyes stayed locked on his, soft yet unrelenting, as though searching for something deeper within him.
Her lips parted, and for once, there was no immediate retort. No clever quip or cutting remark. Just silence, as if she were piecing together the right words—words that might actually matter. Adrien hated that he waited for them.
"I don't know you," she admitted softly, her voice trembling like the rain on her lips. "Not the way I want to."
For several seconds she simply stood there, mouth dropping and tightening, letting out emotions that she couldn't find the words for. Then, with a heavy sigh, she let it all out. "We met when we were kids."
Adrien wanted to scoff, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt, simply blinking back at her. It wasn't rehearsed, it wasn't filtered, it wasn't planned; it was Lila being put on the spot to reveal something raw, something near and dear to her, and she was nervous.
"I don't expect you to remember it, but you and your mother came to my orphanage for some charity event." There she was again, the shy schoolgirl nervously looking away from her crush, cheeks twitching and flushing. "They brought in truckloads of sports equipment and balls and had us play all these games."
And just like that, he recognised those pleading, adoring eyes. "…You were the girl I nailed in the head with a basketball." he said, the realization tumbling out before he could stop himself.
Her entire face lit up. "Y-Yes!"
Adrien didn't know what reaction he'd been expecting, but her sheer, unrestrained joy left him stunned. Lila—Lila, who always had a façade, who controlled every expression, every word, every movement—was standing before him, beaming as though he'd just handed her the moon.
Her hands clasped together in front of her chest, shaking slightly, and her voice came out breathless. "You were so scared you'd killed me. You stayed with me the whole day, and you wouldn't let go of my hand until your mother pulled you away."
Lila continued, her smile faltering slightly as her voice dipped into something softer, more vulnerable. "You… You made me feel so special and cared for in a way I never knew could exist."
Adrien's heart twisted painfully in his chest. He hated the way she looked at him, so vulnerable and honest, like he was the only thing keeping her upright. He hated the warmth that flickered in him at the memory she painted, and he hated the guilt that wormed its way into his mind for doubting her sincerity.
But most of all, he hated how much it mattered to him that he'd made her happy.
"That… That was a long time ago, Lila." He couldn't keep his voice from shaking.
"Every time Colt visited; I'd pester him about you." She pressed on, the energy from his simple recognition pouring in. Now that she could find the words to speak it and the confidence to let it be seen, she needed him to know it all. "And no matter how he tried to tell it, it always sounded so sad, how much your parents sheltered you, imprisoned you."
Her arms curved unnaturally at her side, desperate to reach out and embrace him, to cling to him like the only raft in the stormy sea of her heart. "When I finally came to Paris and found out you were going to the same school, I was so scared… I imagined in so many ways how you'd change, how you'd become like everyone else and sully that memory I cherished so much." She sounded ashamed of the very thought.
He could only murmur, "Everything changes."
Why did she keep looking at him like that?
Like she cared.
Like he was anything more than a stepping stone for her.
Like she understood.
"But you didn't," she said, her voice breaking through the storm in his mind. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable—something that made Adrien's heart ache. There was a warmth, a tenderness – she just wanted to reach out, caress his cheek and tell him it was alright now. "You got taller, you got hairier, but you were still that boy I remembered, shining like a burning star despite how much the world threw at you."
The rain had been beating down on them for ages now, but suddenly it felt more pronounced on her cheek. The water trickling down her face for the tears she could no longer shed. "Everyone around you failed you like they failed me, but you… You didn't let it break you like it did me."
He wanted to believe she lying to him. He needed to believe it. Because he couldn't accept how much her honesty affected him, nor that some part of him wanted to accept her embrace and let her protect him from the downpour.
Adrien stared at her, the words tumbling into the storm between them like stones dropped into an endless abyss. His body felt heavy, weighted down by something he couldn't name. It wasn't anger anymore. Anger would have been easier. Safer.
"A sob story isn't going to make me love you," he barked out, his voice a lifeline tethering him to something—anything—stable. It sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
Her smile remained, soft and pained, the kind that made it impossible to tell if she was enduring or thriving under his rejection. "I know," she whispered, the words cutting deeper than any grand declaration. The only real pain Adrien had managed to deliver. The pain that didn't feel as satisfying to inflict anymore
"You…" His voice cracked, everything inside him trembling under the weight of her presence. "You took the woman I love away from me."
The rain poured harder, or maybe it just felt that way as his own emotions clawed at his insides, raw and burning. "What could you possibly have to make up for that?"
She leaned closer, a hushed whisper meant only for him. Not a soul, not the rain, nothing in the world got to hear it; only him. "Something real."
He flinched. He had to look away, he had to escape her gaze before it was too late. He couldn't look at her, couldn't see the unyielding sincerity in those eyes. "Not everything is a lie," he argued weakly, clinging to a defence that felt like sand slipping through his fingers.
"But it is," she countered, her voice so quiet it felt like the rain might swallow it whole. "Everything in your life has been decided for you. Every scrap of affection you've ever received had to be earned."
He wanted to deny it, but the words tangled in his throat, caught between the truths she'd dredged up and the lies he told himself to survive.
"You surround yourself with 'friends,'" she continued, her tone softening, almost pitying. "And you tell yourself that you're fine. But you and I both know that the moment you mess up—when you're not the perfect brand your father built—those 'friends' of yours will abandon you."
Once more, her fingers curled, her hand came up, he could feel how desperate she was, how everything in her soul wanted to touch him. He could also feel that it was getting harder and harder to deny her.
"Your friends. Your parents. Even Marinette." Her voice caught, and for a fleeting moment, Adrien felt tears welling up in his eye. "All their love comes with a condition—that you never forget you are their accessory."
He clung to his last defence, weak and unsteady as it was. "And what condition does yours come with?"
"My love has no condition."
The declaration made his heart ache. He watched her sink to her knees before him, those eyes never leaving him, never dampening the pure devotion that shined and defied the miserable weather. His body betrayed him before anything else, primal urges forcing his blood across the length of his body, the cold of the world cast aside for the warmth of her resolve.
"Use me. Abuse me. Spit on me. Kill me." Her voice trembled but never wavered. "Nothing will change how I feel about you. I am whatever you need me to be."
Adrien's chest tightened, his pulse quickening as the weight of her words pressed down on him. He wanted to push her away, to scream, to run—but he couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
A glint of silver caught his eye, and he realized that, as she lowered herself, Lila had indeed retrieved a switch blade from her pocket. She's revealed a weapon after all, only it wasn't how he imagined. The blade wasn't pointed at him, it was turned over, her fingers gripping the tip and presenting the hilt to him.
"No one's around. Nobody knows I came to you today. The rain and the lake will hide the evidence." She said it all through a beaming, genuine smile. She would be happy, so long as she satisfied him. "Take your revenge, or your justice, here and now. Slit my throat, destroy my plan, avenge Marinette and go live your life. I will accept it."
He could cut her open and make her bleed all over the grass, and she'd be happy with it.
He could grab her by the hair and let her comfort him in other ways, and she'd be happy with it.
He could crumble into pieces and let himself be held together by her embrace long into the night, and she'd be happy with it.
He could tell her he wished things were different, and he'd never forgive himself.
"I love you, Adrien Agreste," she whispered, her voice breaking the silence like a thunderclap. Her eyes bore into him, unyielding in their devotion. "And I will do anything for you."
The weight of her declaration was suffocating. Love. The word echoed in his mind, bouncing between the walls he had built around himself. This wasn't love. It couldn't be.
"Stop it," he growled, his voice low and trembling.
Her smile faltered for only a moment before softening. "Stop what, Adrien?"
"Stop…" His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as the words spilled from his lips. "Stop looking at me like that. Stop acting like this is love."
Her hand holding the blade didn't waver. If anything, her grip tightened as her other hand gently reached out, hovering near his arm, though she didn't touch him. "But it is," she said, her voice barely audible above the rain. "You're the only real thing in my life. You're the only thing that matters to me."
His heart ached, torn between the desire to believe her and the sickening certainty that her love was poison. He wanted to scream at her, to shake her, to make her understand that her devotion wasn't beautiful—it was twisted, corrupted.
Adrien's knees hit the ground before he realized it, the cold earth soaking through his pants as he came down to her level. The storm raged on, water dripping from his hair, his chin, soaking into his clothes, but he didn't care. Eye-to-eye with her now, he could feel it—her pull. It was magnetic, invasive, suffocating.
His breath hitched as her gaze burned into him, unwavering and searing. On some level, he had to admit the shameful truth that churned in his gut. He wanted to embrace her. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and crush her into him, bury himself in her warmth, answer her devotion with his lips, and ease the pain of the unfulfilled affection they both shared.
He could excuse it. He could convince himself it was nothing more than a desire for relief, a craving for the solace of a woman's touch. He could tell himself it wasn't real—that the only thing he wanted her on her knees for was vengeance.
But when he looked into her eyes and felt his face flush under her dedicated gaze, the bitter truth clawed its way to the surface.
He could find something to love about Lila Rossi.
The woman who had taken everything from him.
His voice was hoarse, raw, and trembling as he finally asked, "Can you bring back Marinette?"
For a moment, her glow faltered, the ever-confident fire dimming. His words stabbed deeper than he could have imagined, breaking through her armour in a way nothing else had. She hesitated, her lips quivering, her perfect mask fracturing—but still, she nodded.
"…If that is what you wish."
His heart clenched. That was the sticking point, wasn't it? He could prove she was full of hot air, or he could claim everything he yearned for in the exact way he wanted it; but only if he asked for it. Only if he gave her the power of his desire. Only if he was brave enough to face either answer.
"I don't believe you."
"Then why don't you ask?" Her expression didn't falter this time. She didn't try to defend herself or smooth over the disbelief with lies. Instead, her voice turned quiet, yet insistent. "Ask me to bring her back. Ask me what she did, what she lied to the world to enable; what she denied you."
He shook his head, his wet hair plastering against his forehead. "I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
But she wasn't deterred. She pressed forward, her voice pleading, raw, and desperate. "You know it. Deep down in your heart, you know that something about Monarch's final battle doesn't add up. And it eats at you every day."
Her words struck a chord he wished didn't exist, but he couldn't run from it. No matter how much he wanted to shove her away, to scream that she was wrong, that she was lying, he couldn't. Her words would chase him, haunt him, because they were already there, buried deep in the corners of his mind.
"You could ask me," she said, her voice softening, trembling. "And I will tell you everything. But you refuse. And not because you believe I'll lie, but because you're scared I'll tell the truth."
His hands balled into fists at his sides, his nails digging painfully into his palms.
And then she moved. The glint of silver caught his eye as she pressed the switchblade against her throat, the sharp edge biting into her skin just enough to draw the faintest line of red.
Adrien's instincts flared, protective, reflexive, irrational. Before he could stop himself, his hand shot out, smacking the knife away, sending it clattering to the ground.
Lila flinched, not in fear, but in astonishment. A breathless, victorious laugh bubbled from her lips as she gazed at him with wide, glittering eyes.
"But I wonder," she murmured, leaning closer, her voice as soft as the rain falling around them. "If a part of you doesn't want to."
Adrien's body betrayed him, moving closer to Lila until there was no space left to breathe, no boundary between them that couldn't be crossed with a single movement. Her lips became a siren's call, pulling him into the storm, beckoning him to crash against her. He didn't want to resist, didn't want to think, didn't want to feel the war raging inside of him. If he moved just a fraction further, they'd meet—not halfway, but fully on his terms, fully on his surrender.
And he knew. God, he knew.
If he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He'd lose himself in her, let his arms cage her, let their bodies sink into the mud and forget the rain and the world. He'd let her win, and it would ruin him more completely than any akuma ever could.
It was only the sharp smack of Plagg's paw against his chest—sharp and deliberate—that jolted him back to life. His feet stumbled away from her as if burned, and he staggered back, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to escape.
"I-… I have to go," he managed, his voice cracking under the weight of the moment.
Lila's disappointment flickered across her face, but it didn't linger. She stayed there, kneeling in the mud, still as a statue, her fingers brushing against her lips as if to imagine the kiss that could have been. "I understand," she said softly, her voice unwavering even as it betrayed her longing. "Take all the time you need."
Adrien turned to leave, forcing his feet to carry him further and further away. But even as the distance grew, her voice, her presence, clung to him like a shadow.
He stopped, her pull still tickling at the edges of his resolve. "If I do reach out to you… Will you tell me what your plan is? What all this pain is supposed to accomplish?"
She smiled, fondly, almost lovingly, and gave a small nod. "I wouldn't be a supervillain if I didn't take the chance to monologue about my evil schemes, would I?"
Adrien didn't respond. He couldn't. The words stayed lodged in his throat as he forced himself to keep walking, putting her further and further behind him until she was just a distant memory tucked into the horizon.
As soon as she was gone, Plagg materialized over his nose, floating just inches from his face. "Hey, Kid. You alright?"
Adrien crashed against the nearest wall, his body folding in on itself as he heaved breaths that couldn't come fast enough. His chest tightened, his hands trembling against the rough brick as everything hit him all at once.
"I'm… disturbed," he gasped, his voice cracking under the weight of what he'd just escaped—or hadn't escaped at all.
"You know she's just getting into your head, right?" Plagg said hurriedly, hovering closer to him, his tiny paws patting Adrien's shoulder. "That brat always lies. She doesn't know anything about you."
Adrien's voice was quiet, distant. "Yeah. I know."
Because Lila always lies.
But his heart didn't.
Adrien had hated Lila. Adrien had been disgusted by Lila. Adrien had been hurt by Lila.
But for the first time, Adrien was truly scared of Lila.
Felix was a man of routine and familiarity. He didn't like being surprised, he didn't like being diverted and he certainly didn't like things being out of place. If you knew where all the variables were and what they were up to, very few things could get the drop on you.
So, when he realized that his day had been relatively free of headaches, he knew something was afoot.
And that's how he found himself in Defect's office, barging through the door like a wrecking ball with his eyes peeled, scanning over the width of the cosy little space with an acute frown. Unable to find a hint of what he came for, he rounded on the metal corpse himself who sat back in his giant chair, a newspaper over his face.
Felix didn't hesitate to pull the newspaper back to reveal 'Chalot's' artificial eyes doing their best to roll over and look exasperated at the interruption. "Where's the wicked witch?" He barked.
"Out." Defect grumbled, closing his newspaper and throwing it down on the desk. "I'm not her keeper."
Lila Rossi wasn't here. She was out in the world unsupervised and getting up to God knows what. Felix did not like surprises, and without someone to hold her leash, Lila only brought the worst surprises. As long as she could still run her mouth, there was something to worry about.
Felix scoffed, tilting his head up towards the rapid pattering of rain rallying overhead. "In this weather? Won't she melt?"
Defect tilted his head back, his neck pistons letting out a faint whir. "Do you need her for something?"
"What I need is her to be under watch." Felix's voice was sharp as he rounded on the desk, pressing his hands down flat. "You shouldn't be letting a snake like that out of your sight. She could be plotting behind our backs."
"She isn't," Defect replied simply, his calm tone bordering on dismissive.
"She's always scheming." Felix's fingers drummed faster against the desk, a steady rhythm of irritation. "I know you have little brains—both figuratively and literally—but even you should realize that this woman is only out for herself."
"Just like you then?" Defect shot back casually, sinking into his chair.
"Yes," Felix snapped without hesitation, leaning closer as his eyes glinted with cold calculation. "Which is all the more reason to stay alert."
Defect's head tilted to the side, examining the boy before him while letting his cheek rest on his fist. "Are you concerned for her or something?"
Felix glared, his hand clenching into a fist. "Don't mistake my interest for care, Defect. I don't lose sleep over Lila Rossi."
Defect chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "Of course, of course. You might want to check under your bed tonight. Who knows where she'll pop up next?"
They let silence fall between them as they often did. There was no pleasure or desire to talk to the wretched abomination before him unless he had an inkling of how to mock the so-called man. So, he stalked towards the end of the room, pretending to look busy running his fingers over the gawdy collection of Wild West themed books filling the bookcase while his head whirled with ideas.
By the time his fingers reached 'Johnny Slick and the Silver Bullet', and his patience was at an end, Felix found one topic sure to get the old man's attention. "Maybe she's down in the lair, talking to your demon friend." He said with a devious smile.
His gaze washed over the walls and falling to the floor, digging past the carpet, past the panels, past the architecture, past the sewers and deep into the bowels of the earth where a wretched heart beat and pumped akuma energy into the foundations of Paris. "I have been meaning to meet this living legend myself."
The Malevolence, they'd decided to call it, or him, or whatever. It was some creature that had been imprisoned inside the butterfly miraculous, and was buried deep, deep under Paris' foundations. A spiteful, malignant entity purely composed of the same energy that turned butterflies into akumas. They refused to elaborate further on what or who exactly it was, the closest Felix got was that the putrid tree in the lab was grown from the creature's 'akumatized seeds' and that it was paramount that the creature remains buried for all their sakes.
And it was the one thing Defect absolutely forbid Felix from having any involvement with.
Defect slammed his fist on the table, Colt Fathom's voice of anger lashing through the fake face like a whip. Spiteful, paranoid and domineering; that was the only voice Felix remembered his former 'father' having. The same voice he used when he and Felix fell apart. "Absolutely not."
Hands behind his back, knees locked together, torso at a slight bow; the perfect picture of refinement accentuated the shit-eating grin on Felix's face. "Don't worry, I won't say anything embarrassing."
It was interesting how easily Felix could make out a scowl despite there only being a metal plate under that flesh mask horror. "This isn't a laughing matter, Felix."
Not breaking his poise, Felix robotically unwrapped one arm, holding it up to his eye to examine his pristine fingernails. "What, afraid I'm going to disturb you and Lila's private clubhouse?" He gave a sideways glance to Defect. "I'm an equal partner in this venture, I have a right to see the creature we're fighting to keep locked up."
"The Malevolence doesn't matter to you." Defect spat.
"I'm not letting you expose yourself to the fucking thing that's damning us." Colt protested.
"The more distance between him and you the better." Chalot reasoned.
There was a niggling little aggravation for Felix in how easily and instinctively he could differentiate between the personas that even Defect admitted had little difference between them, how he didn't need to think about the accent, whether metallic, restrained or full-on cowboy; he just knew. It showed that he paid attention to the man, that he had enough care to remember such meaningless details about the creature before him, that some part of Colt Fathom still had power over him.
Defect picked up the pace, finger outstretched in an aggressive point. "All you need to worry about is making sure the mementos are stable enough to survive the miraculous cataclysm; and are ready to protect the masses."
Chalot took over, pulling the hand back to his chest, scrunching up wrinkles on his shirt into worry lines. "If we don't have everything ready before Lila loses the last of her strength…" His fingers rested upon his chest, over the exact spot where, underneath, lay the pulsating fleshy akuma-shaped heart. "Well, then you'll get to see the Malevolence up close and personal."
"Don't act like this is for my protection." Felix scoffed, "You just don't want me intruding."
"Are you-" Colt visibly stopped himself from hitting the table again, and quickly cut down the volume of his response. "Is it really so hard to believe that I want you safe?"
Felix looked upon what remained of the man he once called father with disgust. This hollow husk of a being clinging to the last shred of hatred he had for the life he failed to live. Hatred was all a man like Colt knew, he was a walking fire that burned everything he touched. When he was little, Felix tried to ignore it, tried to excuse it because that's what son's did with their fathers. His mother was his treasure, and all her problems in life could be traced back to marrying Colt.
His parents' failed marriage? Colt's fault. His mother's endless stress and quiet bitterness? Colt. Every last shortcoming in their family dynamic could be traced back to the overgrown oaf who called himself Felix's father. Colt was a jealous, spiteful man who could never stomach that Gabriel had what he didn't: a wife who loved him and a family that wasn't fractured from the start.
Felix had only fully realized the depths of Colt's bitterness the night Colt hurt him. That night, he saw through every excuse, every half-hearted apology, and understood the man's true nature.
But there was something else—something far worse.
Colt had created Felix's amok, he was born from a piece of Colt's rancid heart. That truth bound them in a way Felix could never escape. No matter how much he hated Colt, no matter how many ways he told himself he wasn't like him, that connection would always be there. It was a tether Felix despised but couldn't sever, no matter how hard he tried.
"What's left to save?" Felix sneered; spite aimed with precision. "You killed your son a long time ago."
Colt made an effort to stumble to his feet, "I never want-"
And Felix's glare made the walking fortress of a man drop down into his chair and shut up.
"Don't." Felix didn't let anything reach his eyes, there was only the cold absence of what could have been, of the life that Colt stole from him long ago. "I don't care. It's over."
He turned on his heel and marched back to the door, catching his hand on the frame and stopping himself to glance over his shoulder. "You want family time, go spend it with your replacement daughter. Lord knows you two wretches are perfect for each other."
He waited in the doorway just long enough to watch a small figure descend upon the distracted Colt, a butterfly with eyes on it's wings fluttering close enough to merge with Colt's badge, leaving only a tiny eye at the centre to tell that something was off.
Hopefully, Mayura wouldn't mind Felix borrowing Optigami.
Leaving the room, Felix adjusted his collar, satisfied with his 'meeting'. "If you won't lead me to the devil yourself, I'll just have to have Optigami show me the way to your little lair now, won't I?"
Next Time - The Need For Unlicensed Speed:
It was a gorgeous day, all things considered. For once, since the start of this whole mess, the clouds were parted to make way for a golden skyline drowning out the dreary weather of the past few months. The sun had never shone so brightly in a while.
And yet, all Felix could think about was how cold it felt in spite of it all. The calm, the shine, the light in these dark days; they were all a projection of the mind, an illusion of comfort for the panicking masses. In truth, it was darker, colder than ever, because evil slept just underneath their feet.
"It's perfect weather, don't you think?" Felix hummed, glancing over at Kagami. "For meeting the devil."
"And the perfect location." She bit back, though her voice had none of Felix's humour or cheer, just a rising dread.
Felix nodded, leaning closer to her, coaxing her to instinctively wrap her arm around his own and pull him close. It made him uncomfortable, not because he didn't desire her physical contact, but that it made it clear that she wasn't scared for herself, she was scared for him. Kagami could always take care of herself, and she'd become sufficiently more emotionally independent after the time she spent with her friends.
He could comfort her against threats, both physical and emotional, to her person; but the other way round was something he consistently failed at. It was hard to stop her from fearing for him when he was so determined to place himself at the centre of the horror show. He wouldn't dare to ask her to stay behind, to let him go alone no matter how much he wanted her to be safe as well; that request would cut her deeper than any dagger.
"What? A church?" He asked idly. "You'd think he'd be set up by a whore house or a call centre."
Kagami narrowed her eyes at him, which he usually translated as either bemusement or aggravation. She inclined her head past the cathedral, over to the graveyard. "A place of death."
"Ah."
Yes, looking up the majesty of Notre Dame, all he could feel was the cold; the death.