As the morning light filtered through the windows, Marinette carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Gurvinder. His breathing was steady, his body finally at rest after everything he had been through. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on him—on the faint scars visible on his skin, on the way his face, even in sleep, carried a weight no one his age should bear.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she grabbed the small box of photos the old lady had given her the night before. With quiet steps, she made her way downstairs, finding her parents already up. Tom was reading the morning paper, and Sabine was setting out breakfast.

Marinette placed the box on the table, her hands gripping the edge tightly. "These… these are Gurvi's," she said, her voice softer than usual.

Sabine looked at her daughter's face and immediately knew something was wrong. She exchanged a glance with Tom before carefully opening the lid. The first picture was of a young, smiling Gurvinder, his hair a little messy, his eyes bright with life. It was such a stark contrast to the boy they knew now that Sabine's breath caught in her throat.

Tom, too, was silent as he sifted through the images. Then, his expression darkened when he reached the ones showing Gurvinder's uncle—his arm raised mid-strike, the cruel marks left behind on the boy's back.

Marinette's fists clenched. "We knew he suffered, but seeing this… seeing who he used to be—" Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked away, blinking back tears.

Sabine reached over, placing a gentle hand over her daughter's. "We'll make sure he never has to suffer again, Marinette. He has us now. He has you."

Tom exhaled heavily, setting the pictures down. "His uncle will pay for what he did. We'll fight this in court with everything we have."

Marinette nodded, wiping at her eyes. She had spent the whole night holding Gurvi, vowing to be there for him. Now, looking at these pictures, that resolve only burned stronger.

She wouldn't just stand by. She would do everything in her power to help him reclaim the life he should have had.

Marinette nodded at her parents' words, but as she looked at the pictures again, a hollow feeling settled in her chest.

The boy in the photos—his smile so carefree, his eyes filled with mischief and wonder—was gone. No matter how much she tried, no matter how much love and care she gave, she could never bring him back.

She had seen glimpses of him before—like when he teased her with that infuriating smirk, or when he stole her pastries and acted like he had done nothing wrong. But those moments were fleeting, like echoes of someone who no longer existed.

Gurvinder wasn't that child anymore. He had been beaten, broken, and reforged into a hardened man who had learned to survive in a world that had shown him no mercy. The scars on his body were proof of it, but worse than that were the scars on his soul—the ones that no amount of care could ever erase.

Marinette's fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater as a deep sadness washed over her. She could love him, protect him, stand beside him, but she could never truly give him back what he had lost.

And that realization hurt more than anything.

Meanwhile, in a lavish office overlooking the city, Gabriel Agreste sat across from Mayor André Bourgeois. The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn to block out the bright morning sun. A steaming cup of tea sat untouched beside Gabriel's hand as he flipped through a file in front of him. Across from him, André fidgeted uncomfortably, his usually pompous demeanor replaced by unease.

"We need to do something about that boy," André said, his voice carrying the frustration of a man whose pride had been wounded. "Chloé hasn't been the same since that… that brute humiliated her. She came to me in tears, Gabriel. She's never been this upset before."

Gabriel didn't look up, his sharp eyes scanning through the information he had gathered. "Yes," he murmured, "I've seen the videos. The entire school now admires him. The media is spinning him as a hero. It's quite the transformation." He closed the file with a quiet snap and folded his hands together. "That, Mayor, is the real problem. This boy… Gurvinder Singh… is no longer just a nuisance. He's becoming something much more dangerous."

André frowned. "Dangerous? He's just a student."

Gabriel finally met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "A student who has won the hearts of his peers, who is gaining influence without even trying. You've seen how quickly public perception changes. Today, he's a hero. Tomorrow, he could be a leader. And if that happens… he becomes untouchable."

André swallowed, realization dawning on him. He had only been thinking about Chloé's humiliation, but Gabriel saw a much bigger threat—one that could affect their control over the school and, by extension, their influence in the city.

"So what do we do?" André asked, his voice lower now, conspiratorial.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his mind already calculating the next move. "We don't attack him directly. Not yet. We need to weaken him first—strip away the support he's gathered. The school, the media, his so-called friends. Isolate him. And once he's alone…" Gabriel's lips curled into the faintest smirk.

"We destroy him."

André frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "You say it so easily, as if people will just start hating him for no reason," he said, his voice laced with doubt. "The school is practically worshiping him now. Even my own daughter—who should be the most respected student there—can't turn them against him. How do you expect to change their minds?"

Gabriel let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. "People don't need a good reason to turn on someone, André. They just need the right push." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it.

He leaned forward slightly, his cold gaze locking onto the mayor's. "Think about it. Right now, Gurvinder is the hero—strong, selfless, admired. But that admiration is fragile. People love an underdog, but the moment they feel threatened by him? The moment they start to question who he really is?" Gabriel tilted his head. "They'll tear him down themselves."

André narrowed his eyes. "And how do you propose we make them question him?"

Gabriel smirked. "Rumors, half-truths, careful manipulation of the media. I have influence, and so do you. It starts with small seeds of doubt. We expose his flaws, exaggerate his past, and paint him as something dangerous."

He picked up his tablet and swiped through a few files before turning it toward André. It was a news article—one that had covered Gurvinder's fight against the twelve men. The headline was positive, but Gabriel's finger hovered over the comment section, where scattered doubts had already begun to form.

No normal student fights like this…

What if he's actually a thug?

He's too violent. This isn't normal.

Gabriel's smirk widened. "See? The cracks are already there. We just have to widen them."

André straightened in his seat, his expression growing more resolute. "I'll take out his information," he said, his voice carrying newfound determination. "If there's anything in his past that can be used against him, I'll find it."

Gabriel gave a slow nod, pleased with André's shift in attitude. "Good. But be discreet. We don't need anyone suspecting that we're involved—especially not my son."

André scoffed. "Adrien? He barely pays attention to anything outside of his little friend group." He waved a dismissive hand. "But fine. I'll handle it quietly."

Gabriel tapped his fingers against the desk, thinking. "We also need someone inside the school to push the narrative."

André smirked. "Chloé will be more than willing."

Gabriel nodded. "Then let her. But make sure she doesn't act out of pure emotion. She needs to be calculated this time. If she lashes out too soon, she'll only make him look like a victim."

André sighed. "Getting her to be patient won't be easy."

Gabriel smirked knowingly. "Then make her understand—if she truly wants revenge, she has to be smart about it." He leaned back, satisfaction settling in. "We're not just taking down a student, André. We're dismantling a growing influence before it becomes a real threat."

André nodded, standing up. "I'll start digging into his past immediately."

Gabriel simply smiled, his mind already working on the next step.

By the end of the day, Gabriel and André sat in the same office, a thick file laid open between them. Papers were spread across the polished wooden desk—official documents, travel records, blurry photographs from years ago, and scattered news clippings in different languages.

André adjusted his glasses, scanning the pages with an intrigued expression. "So… this is him," he muttered. "Illegal travel, underground fights, street brawls…" He scoffed. "And yet, the media calls him a hero?"

Gabriel remained silent for a moment, carefully flipping through a few pages. His sharp eyes traced over each document, absorbing every detail. Then, a smirk tugged at his lips.

"They only see what they want to see," he said smoothly. "But this…" He gestured to the pile before them. "This is the truth no one has told yet."

André leaned back in his chair. "We can't use everything here. Some of this isn't verifiable, and some might even make him look stronger rather than dangerous." He tapped a specific page with his finger. "But this… this could work."

Gabriel glanced down. It was an old incident report—one with no clear resolution. A fight that had gone too far. No arrests, but plenty of rumors surrounding it. A perfect gray area, just enough to sow doubt without solid proof to discredit it.

Gabriel's smirk widened. "Yes… This is exactly what we need." He closed the file with a decisive snap. "Now, we just need to make sure the right people see it."

At home, Adrien sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor. His mind kept drifting back to the previous night—the old lady's trembling voice, the faded photographs, and Ladybug's devastated expression.

He had never seen her like that before.

Ladybug was always strong, always composed, always the one to push forward no matter how bad things got. But last night… she had been shaken. Seeing Gurvinder's past had broken something inside her.

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He had known Gurvinder was tough, but he never imagined the kind of suffering he had endured. The idea of someone surviving that much pain, only to come out stronger… It was both admirable and terrifying.

And then there was the old woman's words.

"He wasn't always like this… he was such a joyful child. Always laughing, always smiling."

Adrien couldn't get that image out of his head. He had only ever known this version of Gurvinder—the battle-hardened, sharp-witted guy who kept his emotions locked away. But once, he had been happy. A kid like any other. And life had taken that away from him.

His fists clenched.

Gurvinder didn't deserve this. No one did.

He exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, frustration bubbling inside him. "We have to do something," he muttered to himself. "We can't let him fight this alone."

But what could they even do?

And more importantly… why did he feel like something worse was coming?

But then, another thought crept in—one he didn't want to acknowledge.

He had already kind of lost Marinette.

Adrien leaned back against the headboard, exhaling sharply. He remembered the nights he used to visit her room as Chat Noir, the quiet moments they shared, the way she would laugh at his jokes, roll her eyes at his flirting, yet always welcome his presence. Those nights used to be his.

But now… that was gone.

She barely had time for Chat Noir anymore. When she wasn't with Gurvinder, she was thinking about him, worrying about him, fighting for him. Adrien wasn't jealous—he couldn't be. He had seen how broken Gurvi was, how much Marinette had become his light. They completed each other in a way that Adrien had never been able to with her.

And that was fine. He had accepted it.

Or at least, he thought he had.

But then… there was Ladybug.

The woman he had always longed for. The one he had fought alongside for years, hoping, waiting for the day she would finally see him. The day she would realize his love.

And last night, for the first time… he saw it.

In her pain, in her devastation, in the way she clung to the idea of saving Gurvinder—she wasn't just his partner anymore. She was interested in him.

Adrien closed his eyes, frustration settling deep in his chest.

Was he losing her too?

At home, Marinette busied herself in the bakery, kneading dough alongside her mother while her father worked the ovens. The scent of freshly baked bread and pastries filled the air, making the small shop feel warm and inviting.

Out in the front, Gurvinder handled the customers with ease, his natural charm drawing people in.

"Ah, Gurvi beta!" an old man greeted as he stepped inside. "I see you're still here. I was afraid you'd leave after all that fame you got on the internet."

Gurvi smirked. "And give up free pastries? Never."

The old man laughed heartily as Gurvi packed his usual order.

Marinette glanced toward the front, watching as he effortlessly talked to each customer. Some came just to chat with him, others asked about the viral video, and the regulars treated him like family.

She had always known he was good with people when he wanted to be, but seeing him like this—so at ease, so alive—it was different.

"Gurvi's really good at this, huh?" Sabine commented beside her, smiling knowingly.

Marinette nodded. "Yeah… he is."

He had changed the atmosphere of the bakery. It felt lighter, livelier. And for a boy who had spent most of his life fighting, it was almost ironic how effortlessly he fit in here, in a place of warmth and love.

Tom, who had been watching Gurvinder for months now, shook his head in disbelief as he leaned against the counter. "I still can't believe how he does that," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Sabine, placing a tray of fresh croissants on display, raised an eyebrow. "Does what?"

"This," Tom gestured towards Gurvinder, who was now effortlessly chatting with a group of customers, making them laugh as he packed their orders. "He has this… way with people. Like he's known them forever. It's not just politeness—it's like he understands them."

Marinette wiped her hands on her apron, watching as a young mother entered with her son. Before she could even speak, Gurvi bent down to the child's level and grinned.

"Hey, little man! Back again, huh?" he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "What'll it be today? The chocolate croissant like last time?"

The boy nodded eagerly, and Gurvi reached behind the counter, handing him a small paper bag before looking up at the mother. "On the house. He's got good taste."

The woman chuckled. "Oh, you spoil him too much, Gurvinder."

"Hey, someone's gotta teach him how to appreciate the finer things in life," Gurvi quipped with a wink.

Tom crossed his arms. "See what I mean? He's got this charm, but it's not forced. It's like… no matter where he is, he belongs."

Marinette felt something stir in her chest at that. It was true—Gurvi had spent so much of his life surviving, fighting, enduring. But here, in the bakery, he wasn't just existing. He was living.

And somehow, he made it look effortless.

As the rush died down and the bakery quieted, Marinette, Tom, and Sabine gathered behind the counter, their voices hushed as they finally had a moment to talk.

Tom folded his arms, his expression thoughtful. "Now that we have proof, I really think we have a chance of winning this."

Sabine nodded. "The photos, the testimonies from his old neighbor—it's undeniable evidence. His uncle can't just brush this off anymore."

Marinette, wiping down the counter absentmindedly, bit her lip. "But will it be enough? His uncle is a liar, and he won't go down without a fight. What if he twists things? What if—"

Tom placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll fight back. We have the truth on our side, Marinette."

Sabine sighed. "Still, we need to be prepared for anything. He might try to drag Gurvinder through the mud, bring up his fights, make him look like a criminal."

Marinette's hands clenched. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."

They all went quiet for a moment.

Finally, Tom spoke again. "Whatever happens, we'll stand by him. He's not alone in this anymore."

Marinette nodded, determination filling her chest. "No. He's not."

Soon enough, Gurvinder joined them behind the counter, stretching his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Finally, a break. I swear, old man Jacques only comes here to mess with me," he joked, shaking his head.

But as he looked up, he noticed their serious expressions. His smirk faded. "What's with the long faces? Someone die?"

Marinette hesitated before exchanging a glance with her parents. Tom exhaled and nodded.

Sabine spoke first. "Gurvi… Marinette gave us the pictures."

His body immediately stiffened. His easygoing posture vanished in an instant, and his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Pictures?" he repeated, though his tone wasn't one of confusion—it was guarded.

Tom carefully placed the small box of photographs on the counter between them. "From the old lady. The one who knew you as a kid."

For a moment, he didn't move. His gaze stayed locked on the box, his breathing steady but slow. Then, with deliberate movements, he reached for it.

Lifting the lid, his eyes fell on the photographs inside. One by one, he sifted through them—the smiling boy he used to be, his parents holding him, the garden where he used to play. And then, the ones that followed. The scars. The whips. The bruises.

His fingers curled around the edges of a photo, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Marinette placed a hand on his wrist, grounding him. "Gurvi…"

He blinked once, then twice, before letting out a short, quiet breath. "So… you've seen them."

There was no anger in his voice. No surprise. Just quiet acceptance.

Sabine reached out, gently placing a hand over his. "We believe you, Gurvinder. And we're going to fight for you."

He was silent for a long moment. Then, he set the pictures down carefully, as if touching them too hard would shatter them.

Finally, he smirked—though it didn't reach his eyes. "Well… let's see how much my uncle likes being on the receiving end of pain for once."

They all smiled at his words, a mixture of relief and determination settling between them.

Tom chuckled, crossing his arms. "That's the spirit, kid."

Sabine squeezed his hand gently. "No matter what happens, we're with you."

Marinette smiled at him, warmth in her eyes. "You're not fighting this alone anymore, Gurvi."

Gurvinder looked at them, taking in the weight of their support. For so long, he had fought his battles alone, relying only on himself. But now… now, he had people standing beside him.

He exhaled and leaned back against the counter, smirking again—this time, just a little more real. "Heh… Guess I really am stuck with you guys now, huh?"

Marinette rolled her eyes but laughed. "You love it."

He didn't respond—just gave her a knowing look.

And in that moment, he realized… maybe he really did.

Meanwhile, in Gabriel Agreste's grand office, the air was heavy with quiet tension. André Bourgeois sat across from him, his hands folded on the table as they waited.

The door swung open, and Chloé walked in, her usual haughty expression in place—until she saw her father and Gabriel sitting together. Her brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

Gabriel gestured for her to sit. "We need to talk."

Chloé hesitated but sat down, crossing her arms. "About what?"

André cleared his throat, his voice unusually firm. "About Gurvinder."

At the mention of his name, Chloé's face twisted in anger, her nails digging into her arms. "That low-class brute—"

Gabriel raised a hand, silencing her. "Enough. Tell me exactly what he did to you."

Chloé blinked, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone. She glanced at her father, who nodded for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, she straightened in her seat.

"He humiliated me," she spat. "In front of the entire school! He—he slapped me! Do you have any idea how that felt?! Everyone laughed at me! No one respects me anymore because of him!"

André sighed, rubbing his temples. "I just want to make things right for my daughter, Gabriel."

Gabriel leaned forward, fingers steepled. "And you will." His cold, calculating gaze landed on Chloé. "You want him to suffer, don't you?"

Chloé's eyes gleamed with something dark. "More than anything."

A thin smirk played on Gabriel's lips. "Then leave it to me."

Gabriel's smirk faded as he leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on Chloé. "Tell me, why hasn't the school taken any action against him so far?"

Chloé's expression darkened. "Because everyone is suddenly obsessed with him! Ever since that stupid fight where he got recorded, people actually like him now!" she scoffed. "Even the teachers are just ignoring what he did to me! And that ridiculous news article made him look like some kind of hero!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed slightly. He had already seen the viral clips—Gurvinder standing bloodied but unbroken, protecting Marinette's dress like it was his own life. It was reckless… but the public loved a tragic hero.

André shook his head, frustrated. "The school is afraid of backlash. If they punish him now, they'll look bad. That journalist, Alya Césaire's mother, made sure of that."

Gabriel tapped his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. "So, public opinion is in his favor for now…"

Chloé clenched her fists. "But that can change, right? You can do something, can't you?"

A slow smirk returned to Gabriel's lips. "Of course. Public perception is a fragile thing, easily swayed… if you know how to manipulate it."

André looked at him warily. "What are you planning, Gabriel?"

Gabriel's eyes gleamed. "Simple. If the world sees Gurvinder Singh as a hero now, we'll make them see him as a threat instead."

André's patience was wearing thin. He had been listening to Gabriel talk in vague strategies, but now he wanted real answers. He leaned forward, his voice firm.

"You keep saying you'll change public perception, but how? What exactly are you planning, Gabriel?"

Gabriel let out a small sigh, as if dealing with a slow student. Then, he spoke with cold precision.

"Leak his illegal status. Leak his dunki details. Make sure everyone knows he isn't supposed to be here," Gabriel said, his fingers tapping against the desk. "Leak the fact that he's living under a roof in Paris without proper acceptance. And most importantly—take out the security footage from the school."

André frowned. "Footage?"

Gabriel's smirk widened. "Of him slapping your daughter." He turned to Chloé. "You want him ruined? That's how you do it. A boy—a supposed thug—hitting the mayor's daughter? That alone will be enough to make him the villain. Use your own brain, André. People love their heroes, but they turn on them just as quickly."

André's expression shifted as the realization set in. It was a simple plan—dangerously simple. If they framed Gurvinder as a violent illegal immigrant, his reputation would crumble overnight.

Chloé's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "That's perfect."

Gabriel's smirk didn't fade. "Then let's begin."