The door clicked softly behind me as I stepped out of Max's apartment, the sun already beginning its descent behind the crumbling edges of the city skyline. The sudden shift from LED glow to natural light stung my eyes. I raised a hand immediately, shielding my face from the soft, golden burn of evening sunset.
The future shimmered on the inside of my eyelids. Max was more than promising, he was almost inevitable. All that potential, now bolstered by tech the world wasn't supposed to see for another decade, in hands capable of reshaping civilization or at the very least, rendering it obsolete.
He didn't even know what kind of monster I'd just made him.
I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing past the familiar shape of the upgraded flute band, pressing a button it was now latched tight around my wrist, until they found my phone. Pulling it out the screen lit up at my touch.
8:00 PM.
"Perfect," I muttered aloud.
I started walking at a brisk pace toward the horizon. The sun bathed the city in hues of blood orange and tired lavender, casting long shadows that reached for my shoes it was almost night and I knew Julekha was waiting for me back home.
But there was still work to do.
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Marinette Pov...
The bristles of Marinette's broom brushed quietly across the tiled bakery floor, gathering flour, powdered sugar, and crumbs into a lazy pile by the front counter. Her mother's voice floated from the back room, muffled but familiar.
"Chérie, when you're done, can you take out the trash?"
"Okay!" I called back instinctively, not lifting my gaze from the dustpan I was about to grab.
"Merci!"
It was warm in the bakery, the kind of comforting heat that clung to my skin like an old friend. The scent of buttered pastry and caramelized sugar hung in the air, anchored by the more earthy undertones of yeast and baked bread.
I swept absentmindedly, humming under my breath, compared to the res of my life this felt like a breath of fresh air, until the soft jingle of the bell above the front door drew my attention.
I paused, broom mid sweep.
Turning with a smile already halfway formed, the automatic "Welcome to Dupain-Cheng Bakery, how can I—" died on my lips the moment my eyes locked onto the figure who had just stepped inside.
my brows lifted, heart skipping once. Twice.
"Luka?"
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The scent of fresh dough, cinnamon, and something vaguely fruity washed over me the moment I stepped inside. It was grounding, in a way. This one buzzed with warmth, with memory, with tradition. It looked even more aesthetic than the show made it out to be.
'Not bad... I'll put this on my keep list when I begin changing paris.
Her voice flew through the air robotically, softening around my name. "Luka…"
Marinette stood behind the counter, looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite decode. Surprise? Confusion? A touch of hesitation, maybe. She was still holding the broom like she wasn't sure whether to offer it or wield it.
I offered her a casual smile, one hand sliding into the pocket of my jacket. "Hey."
I let the silence stretch just long enough for tension to settle. Stepping closer I watched her carefully, tracking the way her fingers fidgeted on the broomstick, the slight pink of embarrassment rising to her cheeks.
She set the broom aside and stepped around the till, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice somewhere between curious and guarded.
Good. She was already trying to place me. That was step one.
I shrugged like it was nothing, like this was all coincidence wrapped in spontaneity. "Honestly? Never been here before. Thought I'd check it out. Seemed like a good time."
She blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. "Oh. Right. Well, it's… it's just a bakery."
"Sure," I said, glancing around. "But it's your bakery."
The corner of her mouth twitched upward, then faltered again. She motioned to the empty café table by the window.
"You, uh… want to sit?"
"I'd like that."
We sat across from each other, the small table between us polished clean and reflecting hints of the golden sunset outside. Marinette's posture was that of someone trying to appear casual but failing by fractions. Her fingers tapped against the wood—one-two-three—then stopped.
I kept my body relaxed, open and Friendly. After all I wasn't here for anything serious like an interrogation.
"So," I said, watching her eyes more than her face, "How's life treating you?"
She gave a small shrug. "Well, busy. School, bakery, patrols…" She stopped herself too late, eyes widening just a little before she looked away. "I mean, you know. Life stuff."
I smiled—just enough. "I know what you meant."
Her gaze flicked back to mine, uncertain. She leaned in slightly, curiosity pushing past her caution.
"You've been… helping people. The news keeps talking about it. That was you last week with the akumatized guy at the stadium, right?"
Hook set.
"Yeah," I nodded, resting my forearms on the table. "Couldn't just watch it happen, you know? He was going to crush the bleachers. People had nowhere to run."
She was quiet a moment, absorbing that. Then, softly, "Ladybug and Cat Noir got there late."
"They usually do lately," I replied, tone not unkind. "Not their fault, probably. Just stretched thin. I figure if I can help, if I have the power to—I should."
Marinette shifted slightly in her seat. "As usual, your really admirable."
"It is a lot," I admitted, letting a note of weariness touch my voice. "But when someone's in danger… doesn't it feel like it's your responsibility too?"
That made her go still. Just for a breath.
Her nod was small, but it was there.
Exactly.
I leaned back, eyes flicking to the windows, the way the fading sunlight painted lines across her face.
"I don't know," I said, voice low. "It just feels like the world's been spinning faster lately. Someone has to steady it."
Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something. ask something, but it took her a long time. Long enough that I noticed her shoulders shift uneasily, her gaze drop to the table, then back to me.
"Luka…" she began hesitantly, then trailed off.
I waited.
Finally: "I saw you. Earlier this week. Going into Chloé's building."
Ah. Shit, I see.
I let a slow breath out through my nose and nodded, as if conceding something unimportant.
"She's not as bad as people think," I said gently. "She talks a lot, sure, but there's something wrong with everyone, I just don't think it's right to single out a individual just due to that."
Marinette's face didn't shift, but her posture did. Still tense, but less sharp. Like the edges were being sanded down. It seems she suspected me of something.
"She offered me a deal," I continued, voice even. "Information for information. I took it. Doesn't mean I trust her. But I'm not above using flawed tools to do the right thing."
That made her wince, but she said nothing.
I leaned forward again, earnest now. "I'm trying to help. That's all I care about."
The moment stretched. Marinette studied me like she was looking for fine print.
And then, finally, she gave the smallest nod.
"Okay," she said.
Not full trust. Not yet. But she was leaning closer to it.
And that was all I needed.
I let the silence sit a moment longer, just enough to let the tension ease out of her shoulders. Then, shifting gears with practiced smoothness, I offered her something lighter.
"Oh—before I forget," I said casually, brushing a strand of hair out of my face, "I'm grabbing lunch with Adrien this weekend. He's been a little overloaded with stuff lately, so I figured we could catch up."
Her eyes flicked up to mine again, more curious now than cautious. "Adrien?"
"Yeah," I said with a soft smile. "Thought it might do him some good to be around people who actually care about him for who he is. Not just the 'model' or the 'Agreste heir.'"
I watched her expression soften a little more at that—like I knew it would.
Then I leaned slightly forward, dropping the offer as if it were just an afterthought. "You should come, if you want. It's nothing huge—just food, music talk, maybe a little sunshine if the city cooperates. Could be nice. You deserve a break."
I could see the way her lips parted like she wanted to answer right away, but didn't.
I tilted my head. "No pressure, Marinette. Just… think about it." I said pulling out my phone and sliding it to her side of the table.
She blinked slowly, then nodded once. Picking it up to place her number in.
"I'll think about it," she said.
Which meant yes.
Eventually.