The next morning, Gurvi wasted no time. As soon as he woke up, he grabbed his phone and sat at the desk, scrolling through every post, article, and comment about him.

He analyzed everything—what was being said, which rumors were false, and what parts of the truth had been twisted. His illegal status, the way they painted him as a violent thug, and even the security footage of him slapping Chloé—it was all out there, crafted to turn public opinion against him.

Marinette watched him from the bed, concern etched on her face. "Gurvi…?"

He didn't look up, his eyes scanning through an article. "It's worse than I thought, Mari. They're not just talking about me being illegal. They're making it look like I'm dangerous. That I don't belong here."

She sat up, crossing her arms. "This isn't just random. Someone's behind this."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Yeah. And I need to find out who."

Gurvi clicked through articles, YouTube videos, and comment sections, scanning every word. The internet was ruthless.

"He shouldn't even be in Paris. How did the authorities let this happen?"

"A thug like him doesn't belong in a school with normal kids."

"That slap was brutal. He acted like a wild animal."

"Poor Chloé! She must have been terrified!"

He clenched his jaw, his fingers gripping the phone tighter. Most of them didn't even know the full story, yet they spoke with such certainty. He switched to YouTube, where videos of him had surfaced. Some were just reuploads of the fight, but others were worse—commentary videos twisting everything.

"This so-called 'hero' is nothing but a violent immigrant freeloading off a kind bakery family."

"He got in illegally, and now he's causing trouble? Deport him."

His breathing slowed as he scrolled further, until a different kind of comment caught his eye.

"You people do realize he fought to save Marinette's dress, right? He wasn't picking a fight for fun."

"The slap? Chloé insulted his religion and family in front of everyone. Anyone would've snapped."

"Dude literally risked his life for people he cares about, and this is what he gets?"

There were supporters—people defending him, trying to fight back against the hate. But they were drowned out by the overwhelming negativity.

Marinette, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke. "Gurvi…"

He set his phone down, pressing his hands to his face. "They don't even know me," he muttered. "And yet, they talk like I'm the worst person alive."

Gurvi took a deep breath, forcing himself to think past the emotions. He had dealt with worse—this was just another fight, but one that needed a different approach. He grabbed a notebook and started writing.

"First, figure out the source."

Someone had to be behind this. Random people didn't just dig up his illegal status and school footage out of nowhere. If he could find who leaked it, he could figure out their end goal.

"Second, control the narrative."

Right now, the public only had one side of the story—the twisted one. He needed to make sure the truth was heard. But how? Social media? Alya? News outlets?

"Third, protect the bakery."

His presence was already hurting Tom and Sabine's business. If things escalated, it could get worse. He needed to find a way to take the pressure off them.

He tapped the pen against the notebook, deep in thought. Marinette sat beside him, watching him work through his plan.

"I can help," she offered. "Alya can too."

Gurvi nodded. "Yeah… but first, I need to know exactly what we're up against."

His eyes darkened with determination. If someone wanted to break him, they would have to try harder.

Marinette leaned back, crossing her arms. "First, we need to stop this from spreading more. The longer this goes unchecked, the worse it'll get."

Gurvi smirked. "That's obvious, detective. But how?"

She tapped her chin in thought. "Alya can help debunk false claims. She has a big platform. If we prove that parts of the story are fake, people will start questioning everything."

Gurvi nodded. "That's a start. But what about the things that are true? My illegal status? My past?"

Marinette hesitated for a second before meeting his eyes. "We don't lie. We don't deny it. Instead, we show them the full picture. People are only seeing 'illegal immigrant Gurvinder Singh' and 'violent thug.' We need them to see the real you—the guy who saved me, who helped the bakery, who fought for others. We make them care about you."

Gurvi chuckled, shaking his head. "You make it sound so easy."

She smirked. "You're the one who asked for my plan."

He leaned back, considering it. "Alright, partner. Let's do this."

Marinette grabbed her phone and quickly dialed Alya. "Come over. Now. Bring Adrien and Nino too," she said urgently.

Alya, sensing the seriousness in her tone, didn't ask questions. "On it. We'll be there in ten."

She hung up and turned to Gurvi, who was still scrolling through the posts, his face unreadable. "They'll be here soon," she said.

Gurvi smirked slightly but didn't look up. "Good. The more brains, the better."

Marinette sat beside him, watching as he continued analyzing the situation. This wasn't just about fighting back—this was about survival.

Marinette sat beside him, watching as he scrolled through articles, videos, and comments with unwavering focus. She couldn't understand it—just last night, he had poured his heart out, admitting his pain, his guilt, his fears. Yet here he was, strategizing, planning, and taking charge of the situation as if he wasn't the one being torn apart online.

She felt overwhelmed just looking at the posts, the twisted narratives, the unfair judgment. If it were her, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle it. The weight of it all, the betrayal of people turning against her so suddenly—it would break anyone.

But Gurvi? He didn't break. He didn't cry or wallow in self-pity. Instead, he fought. He studied his enemies, analyzed the battlefield, and prepared to counterattack.

Marinette bit her lip, still unable to process how he could function under this pressure. How could he be so strong? How could he still smile, still joke, still carry on as if the world wasn't trying to bury him?

She clenched her fists. No—she couldn't just sit back and admire his strength. She had to match it. She had to stand beside him, not just watch from the sidelines.

Before she could say anything, the doorbell rang. Alya, Adrien, and Nino had arrived. The battle was about to begin.

As soon as Alya, Adrien, and Nino arrived, Marinette wasted no time explaining everything—how the bakery was struggling, how customers were treating Gurvi differently, and the online posts spreading like wildfire.

Alya's face darkened. "Yeah… I've been seeing those. Someone's leaking all this information, and people are twisting it however they want."

Adrien rubbed his temples. "This isn't just gossip. The school's security footage is out there—who even has access to that?"

"Someone with connections," Nino muttered.

Gurvi, who had been quiet until now, let out a dry chuckle. "Come on, guys. Do I really need to spell it out?"

They exchanged glances.

"Chloé," Marinette said, her jaw tightening.

"Probably," Gurvi said, "but she's not smart enough to pull this off alone. Someone powerful is backing her." His eyes flicked toward Adrien, not accusing, but expectant.

Adrien stiffened. "My father."

Alya sucked in a breath. "Wait—you really think Gabriel Agreste would go this far? Just to ruin Gurvi?"

Adrien's expression was grim. "I know how he operates. If he thinks Gurvi is a threat to his reputation, he won't hesitate."

There was a heavy silence.

Marinette broke it, her voice firm. "Then we fight back."

Gurvi raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do we do that?"

Marinette hesitated but then straightened. "We tell our side of the story. If they're going to spread lies, we'll show people the truth."

Gurvi smirked, the fire back in his eyes. "Now that, I like."

Gurvi leaned forward, his sharp eyes scanning the scattered papers, phone screens, and news articles they had gathered. While the others were still caught up in the weight of the situation, he had already begun breaking it down into parts—what mattered, what didn't, and what could be controlled.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady, cutting through the tension. "We need to sort this mess out. First, what's the biggest issue? My illegal status or the fight with Chloé?"

Marinette, still overwhelmed by how quickly he had shifted into problem-solving mode, hesitated before answering. "I... I think both are dangerous, but your illegal status is the one that could get you kicked out of the country."

"Exactly," Gurvi nodded. "Which means it's the priority. Everything else is just noise—distractions to make people turn against me. If I can prove my right to be here, then half their plan falls apart."

Alya tapped her phone, scanning posts. "They're twisting things like crazy, though. Even people who defended you before are backing off because they think you're here illegally. It's becoming a 'law and order' debate, not just about you."

Gurvi clicked his tongue, thoughtful. "Which means I can't just defend myself—I have to change the whole conversation."

Adrien crossed his arms. "But how do you do that? You can't just make people forget what they've seen online."

Gurvi smirked slightly. "No, but I can make them question it."

Marinette felt a strange mix of awe and concern watching him. Even under pressure, Gurvi wasn't just reacting—he was counterattacking.

Adrien leaned forward. "How can you change all this? People already believe what they've seen. Once something is out there, it spreads like wildfire."

Gurvi exhaled, rubbing his knuckles. "I can't change everyone's mind overnight, but I don't have to. I just need to make them doubt what they think they know."

Marinette frowned. "How?"

Gurvi leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table. "People don't care about truth. They care about what feels right to them. Right now, they think I'm the villain because someone fed them a story that made sense to them. But if we poke holes in that story—make them ask questions—then suddenly, it's not so simple anymore."

Alya's eyebrows lifted. "You're saying we don't fight back with 'I'm innocent,' we fight back with 'Are you sure I'm guilty?'"

Gurvi nodded. "Exactly. If we can show that someone's twisting things, people will start second-guessing everything they heard."

Adrien crossed his arms. "That could work… but we need something solid. What's our first step?"

Gurvi cracked his knuckles, his gaze sharp but calm. "We find the weakest part of their story. The one thing they can't explain away."

As the group sat in Marinette's room, the atmosphere was tense. The weight of the situation pressed down on them, and for a while, no one spoke. Alya scrolled through her phone, reading more of the slanderous posts, while Adrien sat with his arms crossed, deep in thought. Nino fidgeted with his cap, unsure of what to say.

Gurvi, however, was staring at the wall, lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he stood up.

"We need to flip the narrative," he said.

Everyone looked up at him, confused.

"What do you mean?" Marinette asked.

"We can't just sit here and let them control the story. We have to fight back. And we do that by taking control of the public's perception," he explained.

Alya frowned. "Gurvi, this isn't some school rumor we can just clear up with a blog post. People are calling you a criminal. This is bigger than that."

"I know," he nodded. "But I also know how this works. People don't care about facts—they care about the story. Right now, I'm the villain in their eyes because someone gave them a story where I look like one. We need to give them a better one."

Adrien leaned forward, skeptical. "And how do we do that? Just telling the truth doesn't magically fix everything."

Gurvi let out a short laugh. "No, it doesn't. That's the mistake people make. They think truth alone wins. It doesn't. The truth has to be wrapped in something people want to believe."

Nino blinked. "Okay… and you know this how?"

Gurvi sighed and sat back down, rubbing his hands together. "Back in India, there was this famous actor. He… killed one of his fans. Ran him over with his car."

That immediately made everyone uncomfortable.

"Holy crap," Nino muttered.

"Yeah. It was an open-and-shut case. There were witnesses. Evidence. But the next day? The news flipped. Suddenly, the story was how the guy he killed was blackmailing his wife. How he was a criminal. A threat. His fan clubs flooded social media, spinning the narrative until people saw him as a hero instead of a killer. The truth didn't change. The perception did."

Marinette looked uneasy. "Wait—you're not saying we should lie about you, are you?"

"No, never," Gurvi said quickly. "But we have to take control of the story. Right now, they're using my past to turn people against me. If we just sit here, it'll get worse. But if we put our version out there—if we do public interviews, real ones, and get the truth out before the rumors settle in—then we have a chance."

Alya still looked hesitant. "I don't know, dude… this still feels kinda manipulative."

"That's because it is," he admitted. "But if we don't do anything, I lose. And if I lose, your best friend's family loses too. I don't care about being famous or well-liked, but I won't let them destroy me without a fight."

The room went silent again. Adrien exchanged a look with Marinette, who seemed deep in thought. Finally, she exhaled and looked up at Gurvi.

"Okay… let's do it."

i need your mom's help said gurvinder

Alya raised an eyebrow. "My mom?"

Gurvinder nodded. "She's a journalist, right? She doesn't just chase headlines—she cares about the truth. If we want to set the record straight, we need someone credible to tell our side of the story. Someone people will actually listen to."

Alya hesitated, biting her lip. "I mean… yeah, she's good at what she does, but she's still a professional. She won't just print something because I ask her to."

"I don't want her to print something for us. I want her to see the truth for herself," Gurvi said firmly. "She can interview me, ask me anything she wants. If she finds my story worth telling, then maybe we have a shot at fighting back."

Marinette looked at Alya, hopeful. "Do you think she'd do it?"

Alya sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don't know, but I can ask. No guarantees, though."

"That's all I need," Gurvi said. "If she gives me a chance, I'll handle the rest."

Alya's mom, Marlena, folded her arms as she looked at them. "An interview? About what exactly?"

Gurvinder met her gaze without hesitation. "About the truth. The media is painting me as some illegal thug who attacked a girl, but they don't know the full story. I want a chance to tell it."

Marlena sighed, shaking her head. "Listen, kid, I understand your frustration, but I can't just write a piece to clear your name because you asked me to. That's not journalism—that's PR."

Alya stepped in. "Mom, it's not like that. You're all about fairness, right? About exposing lies? Well, Gurvi's being targeted, and you know it. Doesn't he deserve a fair shot?"

Marlena considered this for a moment before looking back at Gurvi. "If I do this, I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. I'll ask you real questions—the same ones the public would. If there's even a hint of dishonesty, I won't publish a word."

Gurvinder smirked. "Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

The clinking of utensils against plates was the only sound filling the room. The usual warmth of the Dupain-Cheng dinner table felt distant tonight, replaced by an unspoken tension that sat heavy in the air.

Sabine quietly set down her fork, glancing at Gurvinder. "Are you sure about this interview?" she asked, concern laced in her voice.

Gurvi nodded, chewing his food slowly before answering. "Yeah. If they want a story, I'll give them the truth. It's better than staying silent and letting them decide who I am."

Tom exhaled, his arms crossed. "You know this could backfire, right? Even if you tell the truth, people will believe what they want to believe."

Marinette, who had been staring at her plate, finally spoke up. "But doing nothing isn't an option either." She looked at Gurvi. "We'll make sure the right people hear you."

He gave her a small smile, appreciating her support.

Sabine reached over, squeezing his hand gently. "Just promise us you'll be careful, beta. The media can be cruel."

Gurvi met her eyes, his voice steady. "I know. But I'm done letting other people write my story for me."

Tom exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his fork as he set it down with a little too much force. His frustration had been simmering for days, but now, hearing Gurvinder talk about giving an interview—putting himself and the bakery in even more public scrutiny—pushed him over the edge.

"An interview?!" he snapped, his voice sharp enough to make Marinette flinch. "Do you even understand what you're doing, Gurvinder? Our business is already suffering, our reputation is hanging by a thread, and now you want to go out there and speak to the media? What if this makes things worse?"

Gurvi met his gaze calmly, but Tom could see the flicker of tension in his eyes.

"I know it's risky, but—"

"Risky?!" Tom cut him off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're already being painted as a criminal! We're barely holding onto customers as it is! You think people will just believe your side of the story because you say it in an interview?"

Marinette, unable to stay silent, interjected. "Papa, please! Gurvi isn't just sitting back and doing nothing. He's fighting back the only way he can!"

"Fighting back?" Tom scoffed. "And what happens when they twist his words? When they make him look even worse? We'll lose whatever trust we have left with the community!"

Sabine placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Tom…" she said softly, trying to calm him.

But Tom just shook his head, rubbing his temples. "I just… I just don't want to see everything we built crumble because of something we can't control." His voice had softened, but the frustration in his eyes remained.

Gurvinder, who had stayed quiet through the outburst, finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "I understand your fear, Tom. But I can't just sit here while they tear me apart. I owe it to myself—to all of you—to fight back. If I stay silent, they win."

Tom sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before finally nodding, though reluctance was clear in his expression. He wasn't convinced, but he also knew Gurvi wasn't the type to back down.

"Just… be careful," he muttered, picking up his fork again. The conversation was over, but the tension still hung thick in the air.

after the dinner As they stepped into Marinette's room, the weight of the conversation still clung to them. Gurvinder was unusually quiet, his expression unreadable as he sat on the edge of the bed. Marinette, lost in thought, paced slightly before leaning against her desk.

She knew what fighting for him meant—it wasn't just about her anymore. She had willingly thrown herself into this battle, but in doing so, she had also put her parents at risk. Their business, their reputation, everything they had built over the years—she had dragged them into the fire simply because she couldn't bear to see Gurvi suffer alone.

She clenched her fists. Would she ever be able to put herself on the line for him completely?

Looking at him now, silent, shoulders slightly hunched, she could feel the storm raging inside him. He always acted strong, always had a plan, but she knew him well enough to see when the weight was crushing him.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over and sat beside him. "Gurvi…" her voice was soft, hesitant.

He exhaled through his nose but didn't look at her. "You regret it, don't you?"

Marinette blinked. "What?"

"Getting involved." He finally turned to her, his eyes dark and heavy. "You had your life set. A future in fashion. Your parents ran a respected business. Then I came along, and now everything's falling apart."

Marinette swallowed, guilt gnawing at her insides. Could she lie to him? Say it didn't scare her? That she wasn't afraid of what this fight could do to her dreams, to her family?

No. She couldn't.

"I won't lie to you, Gurvi." She looked down at her hands. "I am scared. Scared of losing everything. Scared of dragging my parents into something they never asked for. Scared that one day… I might not be strong enough to stand by you the way you stand by me."

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he stared at her for a long moment before exhaling, rubbing his face tiredly. "At least you're honest."

She turned to him, determined despite the fear twisting in her chest. "But even with all that fear… I still choose you."

His breath hitched slightly, but he said nothing.

Marinette reached out, placing a hand over his. "I love you, Gurvi. And I'll fight for you. Even if I'm afraid… I won't leave you alone."

For the first time that night, his shoulders relaxed slightly. He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with hers, gripping tightly as if grounding himself.

He didn't say it, but she could feel it—the gratitude, the relief, the silent thank you in the way he held her hand.

Gurvinder took her hand gently, his grip firm yet warm. Without hesitation, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a firm kiss against her knuckles. His touch lingered for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

"I will fight for you, Marinette. Not for myself." His thumb brushed against her skin as he exhaled. "Not gonna lie… if this was just about me, I wouldn't have fought. I would have stayed silent. I would have accepted my fate like I always did."

Marinette's heart clenched at his words. She knew—she knew—that this was how he had survived all these years. Enduring, accepting, carrying pain like it was second nature.

He swallowed, his voice quieter now. "But the way this is affecting you… your family… I can't just stand by. I can't ever repay Uncle Tom, Aunty, or you for what you've done for me." His grip on her hand tightened slightly. "But I swear, I'll fight. Not because I believe in myself… but because you believe in me."

Marinette squeezed his hand back, her throat tight with emotion. She had seen him break bones for her, take hits for her, fight through hell for her. But this… this was different. This wasn't just him throwing himself into battle. This was him choosing to fight, not out of self-sacrifice, but out of love.

Adrien sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Plagg floated beside him, lazily nibbling on a piece of camembert.

"You're unusually quiet," Plagg mumbled between bites, eyeing Adrien. "Thinking about your rival again?"

Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He's not my rival, Plagg."

Plagg snickered. "You say that, but you sure do think about him a lot."

Adrien sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm just… trying to make sense of everything. Marinette, Gurvinder, the situation with the bakery, the way people are turning on him so easily." His fingers curled into fists. "It's frustrating. One moment people love someone, and the next, they tear them down like they were never worth anything."

Plagg floated closer, his usual playful demeanor fading slightly. "That's how the world works, kid. People believe whatever they're told, especially when it's easier than thinking for themselves."

Adrien sighed again, shaking his head. "I hate it. Marinette's hurting, Gurvi's taking the blame for things that aren't even his fault, and I feel useless. I wish I could do something more."

Plagg huffed. "You're Chat Noir, aren't you? You've saved Paris a hundred times. And now, you have a chance to help in a different way."

Adrien looked up, his expression serious. "Yeah. And I will."

Adrien leaned back against the headboard, exhaling sharply. "But could Chat Noir really help with this?" he muttered. "This isn't just some akuma I can punch through. It's not as simple as saving the day and hearing people cheer."

Plagg hovered in front of him, tilting his head. "That's the thing about real problems, kid. They don't go away with one lucky cataclysm."

Adrien let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah… no magic reset button for this one." He ran a hand down his face. "I've spent so much time as Chat Noir thinking that if I just fight hard enough, I can fix everything. But this? This is different. It's politics, public perception, lies being spread. I don't even know where to start."

Plagg shrugged. "Then don't think like Chat Noir. Think like Adrien Agreste."

Adrien blinked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Plagg rolled his eyes. "Come on, you're the son of Gabriel Agreste. You've lived in the world of media, manipulation, and influence your whole life. If anyone knows how public image works, it's you."

Adrien frowned, thinking. "You're saying I should fight fire with fire?"

Plagg grinned. "I'm saying use what you already know. You're not just a superhero, Adrien. You're a rich kid, a famous model, the son of a media powerhouse. If anyone can help Gurvi clear his name, it's you."

Adrien sat there, staring at the floor as Plagg's words sank in. Maybe he couldn't just punch through this problem as Chat Noir… but as Adrien?

Maybe he could.

Adrien picked up his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing Nathalie's number. It rang twice before her calm, professional voice answered.

"Adrien? Is something wrong?"

He took a deep breath. "Nathalie, I need your help."

There was a brief pause. "Help with what?"

Adrien clenched his jaw, choosing his words carefully. "You know how my father controls narratives. How he shapes public perception. I need to know how to counter that. How to fix a reputation when someone is being framed."

Another silence. Then Nathalie sighed. "Adrien… this isn't a game. Public image isn't just about truth—it's about who controls the louder voice."

"Exactly," Adrien pressed. "And right now, Gurvinder is being painted as a criminal. Someone out there is pulling strings, and I have a feeling my father might be involved."

He heard a small intake of breath on the other end. "Adrien, accusing your father isn't something to take lightly."

"I don't care," Adrien said firmly. "I know what he's capable of, and I'm not just going to sit here while someone's life is ruined. You always helped him manage his brand, his influence. Now, I need you to help me fight back."

Another long pause. Then, to his surprise, Nathalie spoke softly. "I can't openly go against your father, Adrien. But… I can tell you what you need to know."

Adrien sat up straight. "Anything. Just tell me where to start."

Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "First, you need to find the source of the smear campaign. Look at the platforms spreading the most damaging information. Who benefits from ruining Gurvinder's reputation? Once you have that, you'll know where to strike."

Adrien nodded to himself. "Alright. I'll start there. Thank you, Nathalie."

"Be careful, Adrien," she warned. "Once you push back, expect retaliation."

"I know," he said, determination setting in. "But I'm not backing down."

Nathalie sighed, gripping her phone tightly as she leaned back in her chair. She had always followed Gabriel's orders without question, but this… this was different. Adrien wasn't asking for help with something trivial—he was standing against his own father.

She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing the weight of what she had just done. By giving Adrien even a sliver of guidance, she had placed herself in a dangerous position. Gabriel didn't tolerate defiance.

Looking down at her phone, she hesitated before placing it back on her desk. "Be careful, Adrien," she murmured under her breath.

If Gabriel found out what she had done, there would be consequences. But for the first time in a long while, she didn't regret her choice.