The breeze on his face felt fresh, almost unfamiliar. Adrien gripped the handlebars a little tighter as he coasted down the hill, the early morning light glinting off the river Seine in the distance. The rhythmic hum of the tires against the pavement grounded him more than any schedule ever had.
He hadn't told anyone.
No driver, no morning briefing, no carefully constructed routine.
Just a note.
"I'll go on my own today. —A."
He'd left it on the entry table where he knew someone would find it. That had felt strange—but not wrong. Just… different. Freeing.
The streets were still quiet at this hour, the city only beginning to stir. Paris looked less like a polished postcard and more like what it truly was: alive, unfiltered, full of possibility.
Adrien exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool morning air. He wasn't trying to make a statement. He wasn't even rebelling. Not really.
He just wanted to ride his bike.
Maybe for the first time in a long while, he'd done something because he wanted to.
Plagg floated lazily beside him, hidden in his zipped-up hoodie pocket, grumbling softly, "You know, I could've been sleeping another hour."
Adrien smirked. "Then go back to sleep. You're not pedaling."
"I'm not not complaining either," the kwami mumbled, curling up again. "Wake me up when we do something chaotic."
Adrien chuckled quietly, the sound surprising even himself. He pedaled faster, the school coming into view ahead. It looked just like every other morning, but today it felt different.
Not dramatically.
Not visibly.
But quietly—like something had started to shift.
And for once, he wasn't afraid of where it might go.
***
"Adrien?" Marinette's voice reached him just as he locked his bike to the rack near the school entrance.
He turned, the morning sun catching in his hair. She stood a few steps away, flanked by Alya and Nino, all three of them blinking in mild confusion—as if seeing him here, alone, at this hour, simply didn't compute.
"You… came alone?" Marinette asked, eyes flicking toward the street as if expecting a black car to roll up behind him any second.
Adrien offered a half-smile, shouldering his backpack. "Yeah. I woke up early. Thought I'd bike today."
"Wait—hold on," said Nino, stepping forward. "You rode here? Like, with actual pedals and effort?"
Adrien chuckled. "That's how bikes work, yeah."
Alya raised an eyebrow. "But doesn't your father, like… assign you a driver for everything? Even to go across the street?"
"He's not home," Adrien replied, keeping his tone light. "And honestly, I just felt like it."
They stared at him for a second too long. Not because it was dramatic—because it wasn't. That was what made it weird.
Marinette tilted her head. "You felt like it?"
"Yeah," Adrien said, and for a moment the words hung in the air. Simple, yet foreign. A phrase he'd rarely allowed himself to use.
Alya nudged Marinette gently. "Did Adrien just make a spontaneous decision?"
"Should we be worried?" Nino added with a grin.
Adrien laughed. "Guys, I'm fine. It's just a bike."
Marinette smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was watching him closely—not suspicious, exactly. Just... curious. As if trying to piece together something she couldn't yet name.
He didn't mind. For once, he had nothing to hide.
And that, more than anything, felt new.
***
The office was dim, shrouded in quiet, early-morning light. Paris shimmered beyond the tall windows, unaware of the storm brewing inside the Agreste estate.
Gabriel sat at his desk, hands clasped tightly, his gaze fixed on the broken display case that had once held the two rings.
The alarm had gone off. A clean break-in—no trace of the intruder, but a clear purpose.
Only the rings were missing.
The old Agreste security systems had done their job, but it hadn't been enough.
They were gone.
Her rings.
He clenched his jaw. The only reason he hadn't locked them away earlier was sentimentality. And look where that had gotten him.
The door opened silently.
"Sir?" Nathalie's voice interrupted his spiral of thoughts. She stood at the edge of the office, tablet in hand, posture as composed as ever.
"Yes?" he asked, barely glancing up.
She hesitated for a fraction too long. "Adrien went to school on his own this morning. By bicycle."
Gabriel didn't react at first. Then: "And?"
"It's… unusual. I thought you'd want to know."
"I don't," he said curtly, finally looking at her.
"He's growing up. Let him pretend he has freedom," Gabriel muttered, voice cold. "It keeps him distracted."
Nathalie hesitated, then changed the subject. "Security reports confirm it: the rings were targeted. Whoever did this knew exactly where to look. They ignored everything else."
Gabriel rose slowly from his chair, stepping toward the display case, now covered with a protective cloth. "It wasn't random."
"No," Nathalie agreed. "You think it was her family?"
A pause.
Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Her sister has been asking about the rings for years.
"You think she sent someone?"
"Maby. She wants the legacy back in her hands," he said.
"Shall I inform Adrien of your absence this week?" Nathalie asked.
Gabriel turned away from the shattered glass. "Yes. Tell him I'm away on business. No details."
"Understood."
He stared at the quiet shimmer of the morning skyline.
The rings had been more than just tradition. They were the beginning. The reason everything had started.
And now, someone else had them.
He didn't know who.
But he would find out.
***
Lunch break. The sun was warm, but not unbearable, and the courtyard buzzed with energy as students spread out in little clusters. Adrien sat beneath the sycamore tree where he and his friends usually met, absently rolling a cherry tomato around on his tray.
Nino flopped down beside him with a groan. "Math was brutal. I think my brain's still trying to reboot."
Alya joined them, already mid-rant about an online conspiracy theory involving a supposed second Ladybug. Marinette trailed just behind, trying not to laugh.
"I'm telling you," Alya said, "there cannot be two Ladybugs. That would totally break the miraculous balance—"
"Unless the second one's from an alternate timeline," Adrien offered with a small smile.
They all turned to look at him.
Alya blinked. "Wait… you follow that blog?"
"Sometimes," he shrugged. "I'am a Ladybug Fan."
Marinette brushed while Alya had a smirk on her lips.
"Sup he is." Nino said. "He is just evoling in saying what he thinks."
"Speaking of evolving," Adrien said, glancing toward Marinette. "I was thinking about Sunday."
Marinette perked up. "The performance?"
"Yeah." He leaned forward. "I want to dye my hair. For real this time."
Nino nearly dropped his fork. "No way. I thought you were still in model-mode—'Can't risk the brand,' or whatever."
Adrien gave a small shrug. "Let's say the brand can adjust."
Alya let out a celebratory "Ha!" and high-fived Marinette across the table. "Called it. I said he'd cave."
"I didn't cave," Adrien said with mock indignation. "I chose."
Marinette giggled. "What color?"
"Black. With green streaks."
Her eyes lit up. "Perfect. I can match your outfit to it—if you want."
"I do," Adrien said. "Actually… would it be too much to ask for something new? I was thinking—leather jacket."
Nino gasped dramatically. "Are you trying to kill us with coolness?"
Marinette flushed a little. "I've actually been working on one for Wednesday's rehearsal. I can adjust the fit if you want to wear it."
"Yeah. That'd be awesome."
"You sure your dad won't flip?" Nino asked, then paused. "Wait, never mind. That's a you thing. Doesn't matter."
Adrien smiled faintly. "Exactly."
For a second, nobody said anything. It wasn't awkward—just a moment of realization. Adrien had just owned a choice. No permission. No hesitation.
And somehow, that changed everything.
***
The rooftops of Paris stretched endlessly beneath the star-powdered sky, shadows deep and soft under the dim golden glow of scattered streetlamps. Cat Noir landed lightly on the edge of a building, the sound of his boots barely brushing the stone.
No alarms. No screams. No purple butterflies cutting through the night sky.
Just silence.
He looked out over the sleeping city and let the cool air brush against his skin. "You know," he murmured to himself, "I could get used to this."
"Used to what?" came a voice behind him—familiar, focused, a little amused.
He turned. Ladybug stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly.
"This whole 'no Akuma' thing," he said, flashing a grin. "It's kinda… peaceful."
Ladybug stepped beside him and looked out over the city too, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line.
"It is," she admitted. "But peace doesn't usually last long here."
"That's a depressing thing to say." Cat Noir leaned back on his hands. "Can't we just have one quiet week without some traumatized soul sprouting wings and trying to destroy the Eiffel Tower?"
Ladybug smirked, but her gaze didn't waver. "You feel it too, though. Don't you?"
Cat Noir didn't answer right away. The wind tugged at his hair. Somewhere far below, a car honked—then silence again.
"…Yeah," he said softly. "Feels like the city's holding its breath."
Ladybug gave a slow nod. "Either we've finally earned a break, or something big is coming."
"Can't it be both?"
"Do you really believe that?"
He looked at her. In the pale moonlight, her face was calm, but her eyes were sharp—watchful.
He chuckled. "No. But I'm trying out this new thing called 'optimism.'"
Ladybug smiled at that, then turned. "Come on. There's still a patrol route to finish."
They took off, springing lightly from roof to roof. No monsters in the dark, no sudden attacks—just them, the wind, and the rhythm of movement through the night.
They stopped twice—once to help an old woman who'd locked herself out of her apartment, and once to gently coax a frightened cat out of a tree.
When they parted, it was with a brief nod and no words.
Because sometimes, even in a city built on chaos and magic, silence could say everything.
***
Adrien lay sprawled across the big sofa in the living room, his phone beside him. The sun had long since set, and the streets outside were quiet. On the screen, a message from Nathalie blinked:
"Reminder: Tomorrow at 10 a.m. – Vogue appointment. Followed by a shoot at the gallery."
Adrien stared at the message. Then he typed. Deleted. Typed again. And finally gave up.
He placed the phone face down.
The next morning, he had breakfast alone in the kitchen. No talk about appointments. No mention of fashion.
He was just about to leave for school when Nathalie stopped him.
"Adrien?" she said calmly. "I noticed you didn't reply yesterday. Should I cancel today's appointments?"
He looked at her, took a deep breath.
"I... don't want to be a model anymore, Nathalie. I never chose this. I don't want to do it."
A brief silence. Then she gave a small smile.
"That's good," she said. "You have the right to make your own decisions."
Adrien felt a warm tug in his chest. She meant it.
"I'll cancel everything for this week," she added. "And I'll inform your father."
Later, in Gabriel's study:
"Adrien doesn't want to model anymore," Nathalie said evenly. "He made that very clear this morning."
Gabriel looked at her over his glasses, then turned back to his screen.
"If that's what he wants, let him do it."
The next morning, Nathalie waited with a tray at the breakfast table. But there was nothing on it except a small note:
"No appointments. You have time for yourself."
Adrien couldn't help but smile.
At school, he shared the news right away.
"I'm done with modeling," he said casually as he sat down with Nino, Alya, and Marinette.
"What?!" Nino exclaimed. "You're serious?"
"Wow!" Alya grinned. "That's big. But honestly – you never looked like you enjoyed it."
"I'm happy for you," Marinette said softly. "You seem… lighter somehow."
That evening, in Marinette's room, she and Alya sat on her bed, scrolling through old photos on Marinette's phone.
"He's really changed lately," Alya said. "Don't you think?"
Marinette nodded slowly. "Yeah. I wasn't sure at first. But… I think it's a good thing. He seems freer. Happier."
Alya grinned. "Maybe the real Adrien is finally showing up."
Later – Saturday Night
Adrien stood in the bathroom. Plagg snored softly on his pillow. The light above the mirror flickered briefly, then steadied.
He leaned on the sink and looked at himself.
Same face. Same hair. And yet… something was different.
Not just a feeling. No. This time, he knew.
Something had changed.
And the best part was: he liked it.
He didn't know exactly what it was. Only that it came from him. Not from his father. Not from the world outside.
Just from him.
(End of Chapter)