The phone buzzed against my palm, its vibration cutting through the city noise. I didn't need to check the screen I already knew exactly who it was.
Right on time.
I swiped to answer, lifting it to my ear.
"Luka, finally!" Chloé's voice snapped through the speaker, sharp and impatient. "I'm at my house. Don't make me wait."
I smiled to myself, small and easy. "Wouldn't dream of it," I said, voice smooth. "Give me fifteen."
I ended the call before she could snap at me again and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
Fifteen minutes. Plenty of time.
As I began my walk, thoughts filled me. It was coming. I could feel it in the air, in the way the pieces were falling into place. The only question left was which one?
The lights of the city shimmered around me as I turned onto my street. The quiet familiarity of home settled over me like a well worn jacket. The door creaked as I pushed it open, the scent of old wood and lavender lingering in the air.
"Hey," I called, tossing my keys onto the table.
A pause, then—"Hey."
Juleka looked up from the couch, her dark eyes blinking at me like she was surprised I was real.
"Didn't think you'd be home tonight," she added, setting her phone down.
"Just passing through," I said, walking over. "Figured I'd actually show my face before you started charging me rent."
She huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Right. Like mom wouldn't cover for you."
I dropped onto the armrest beside her, stretching out. "Still. It's been a while, huh?"
She shrugged, playing it off, but I caught the quick flicker of something in her eyes.
Guilt tugged at me, a brief, quiet thing. I hadn't been around much. Not really. Not since everything started working, not since I started getting closer to my goal.
For a while, we just talked. About school. About how Rose was dragging her into yet another "completely life changing" project. About a new riff she'd been working on but couldn't quite get right.
I let myself sink into it, let the world outside this house go quiet for a few minutes.
But time didn't stop for anyone, and tonight wasn't for distractions.
I stood, stretching. "Rain check on movie night?"
She didn't even argue, just waved a lazy hand at me. "Sure. But if I pick next time, we're watching horror."
"Deal," I said, ruffling her hair as I passed. She swatted at me, but it wasn't a real protest.
Upstairs, my room was exactly as I left it. The bed was unmade, a few stray picks from my guitar scattered on the desk. Normal.
But my attention was already on what mattered.
I dropped to my knees, fingers sliding beneath the loose floorboard beneath my bed. The wood lifted easily, revealing the glass jar waiting beneath.
The akuma inside twitched, flapping franticly as its dark energy swirled within.
Still contained. Still waiting.
I ran a finger along the cool surface of the glass, watching the way the energy inside maneuvered, restless. It had no idea what was coming.
I carefully wrapped the jar in tissue paper, slipping it into a sleek black gift bag.
Presentation mattered. And it was a decent disguise.
I left the house without another word.
The ride across the city was a familiar path towards her house, passing by Marinette's shop, and our school. The rhythm of the streets, the hum of passing cars, the glow of streetlights painting the pavement, it all blended into a comfortable, quiet backdrop.
By the time I reached the hotel, night had settled fully over Paris, the city alive with its own kind of energy.
The guards at Chloé's building barely even looked at me before stepping aside.
Trust was a funny thing. Hard to earn, easy to use.
I found her in the lobby, arms crossed, foot tapping against the marble floor in irritation.
"You're late," she snapped.
I lifted the gift bag slightly, letting the tissue paper crinkle. "Had to pick something up," I said, amused. "Peace offering."
Her eyes flicked to the bag. "What is it?"
I twirled it just out of her reach, smirking. "After we talk."
She let out an impatient huff but didn't argue, leading the way upstairs to her suite.
The door clicked shut behind us.
I placed the bag carefully on the coffee table, stepping back just enough to let her curiosity simmer.
"You trust me, don't you?" I asked, voice light.
Chloé's arms crossed tighter. "Obviously," she said, like the answer was so obvious it insulted her to even be asked.
"Good," I said. "Because tomorrow, I need you to lose."
The words barely left my mouth before she recoiled, eyes wide with immediate outrage.
"What?! Are you insane? Queen Bee doesn't lose! This is supposed to be, this is my moment!"
I didn't move, nor rush. Let the anger run its course. It was true after all I portrayed the event of giving her the miraculous as her own triumphant moment.
"C'mon Chloe this isn't about losing," I said, voice quieter now, threading through the space between us. "I need to set a stage."
She shook her head, disbelief etched into every sharp line of her expression. "What stage? Luka I don't know if you know this.. but this is my, first chance to prove—"
"And you will," I cut in, stepping closer. "But not the way you're thinking."
I tilted my head slightly toward the window, where the lights of the city glittered below.
"You fight. You shine. You push harder than anyone. But in the end, you fall. Not because you're weak, because you were strong enough to keep standing even when the odds were against you."
I let the silence stretch just long enough. Let the idea sink in.
"They'll love you for it," I said softly. "The brave hero who almost won."
Chloé was quiet.
I could see it—the war happening in her head.
The craving for admiration. The fear of losing what she'd finally been given.
"You said you wanted us to be partners," I continued, lowering my voice. "To be something bigger than just another hero on the streets. Standing next to ladybug."
I let the words drop carefully, like coins into a wishing well.
"This is how we start."
Her nails dug into the fabric of her jacket, tension radiating through her whole body.
Seconds stretched.
Then, finally, she exhaled, shoulders dropping just the slightest bit.
"...Fine," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "But you owe me."
I smiled, slow and warm, as I tapped the bag lightly with two fingers.
Tomorrow, the real game would begin.
And I would be the one holding the pieces.
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Authors note- Still kinda busy but I'll upload when possible