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Chapter 49 – Layers and Lies
The smell of sizzling eggs and toasted bread drifted through the penthouse, mingling with the soft hum of morning traffic below. Adrian stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, spatula in one hand, phone in the other. A dozen small plates lined the counter — one for Natalie, and several suspiciously tiny ones for the kwamis hovering nearby.
"Alright, breakfast is served," he announced, sliding an omelet onto a plate.
Plagg floated lazily toward it. "Finally. I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."
"You ate a whole wheel of cheese at midnight," Adrian pointed out, deadpan. "You're lucky you're getting anything."
Plagg grinned. "That was yesterday."
Adrian sighed. "Never mind."
Natalie entered quietly, tablet tucked under her arm, her usual composure cracking slightly with exhaustion. Dark circles framed her eyes, and her voice was soft but edged with fatigue.
"Good morning. You didn't have to cook."
"I did," he replied simply. "You've been working nonstop for a week. You barely sleep."
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice wavered a little. "Tinkerer's been moving his operation again. I need to—"
"No." His tone sharpened. "You're taking a break. That's an order."
Natalie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, after a pause, she smiled faintly. "When did you start giving orders?"
"When I realized you'd collapse before catching him."
She sighed, setting her tablet aside. "Feels like our roles just reversed."
Adrian looked away, tried to hold his laugh, but he laughed anyway. He pushed her plate closer. "Eat."
They sat at the table — Natalie, Adrian, and a handful of curious kwamis nibbling at crumbs. For a while, the only sound was the clink of cutlery.
"So," Adrian said finally, "what will you do now that I've forced you into early retirement?"
"Not retirement," she corrected, taking a sip of coffee. "Just a break."
Her eyes drifted toward her tablet. She had been quietly gathering resources, contacting animators, even scouting equipment — all toward a private project Adrian didn't know about yet.
An animation studio. Something of her own, built from prize money she'd won in secret.
She smiled faintly to herself. "And for what I will be doing, it's a secret."
Adrian raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "As long as it makes you happy and doesn't burn you out."
She hummed in response, clearly planning to ignore that last part.
---
By noon, the doorbell rang. Adrian opened it to find Marinette, hair tied up and a roll of fabric tucked under one arm. She looked energized — and slightly nervous.
"Morning," she greeted. "I brought some reference sketches and the test threads."
"Come in. You do know that we first have to make the fabric stab-proof before making it into a dress," he said, stepping aside.
The house felt like a blend of chaos and calm — clean, but scattered with notebooks and half-finished blueprints. Marinette noticed Natalie seated by the window, reviewing documents.
"Oh, I know — sorry — I didn't realize you had company."
"Natalie," Adrian said, "this is Marinette. My project partner."
Natalie smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."
"You too!" Marinette said, her curiosity flickering. She turned to Adrian. "Who is she?"
"She's my cousin," he replied smoothly. "She's staying for a while."
Knowing his background, Marinette assumed she was here to take care of him. She didn't pry further. "That's nice. You shouldn't live alone anyway."
Adrian smirked. "I manage."
She set her things down. "Let's see what we can manage today, then."
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Workshop Setup
The table was cluttered with rolls of Kevlar, threads, and measuring tools. The air carried the faint scent of resin and polymer dust.
Marinette ran her fingers across the fabric. "It's tough. Definitely not something you'd want touching your skin for long."
"That's the problem," Adrian said, examining the weave through a magnifier. "A single layer isn't enough to block a real slash. You'd need at least two or three to make a difference."
"But that makes it too stiff," she pointed out. "Kevlar doesn't stretch — if we double it, it'll feel like wearing a plastic board."
He nodded. "That's where chemistry helps. If we can bind it with a flexible polymer — something with elastic memory — it might move without losing resistance."
She raised a brow. "Elastic memory?"
"Think of it like… a spring stretched into a thread, but it wants to return to shape."
She pursed her lips. "That sounds nice, but it sounds more like self-repairing than stab-proof."
He leaned back, thinking. "Maybe. But we can crosslink it — use a silicone-based resin between layers. It'll make it slightly thicker, but it'll retain movement."
"Worth trying," she said, pulling her hair back. "Let's ruin some fabric."
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Experiment One
They mixed the resin and brushed it between two Kevlar sheets. The result hardened quickly — too quickly. When Marinette picked it up, it felt like a board.
She tapped it against the table. "You've made armor plating."
"Technically, that's progress," Adrian said, studying it.
"For knights, maybe," she replied dryly.
He chuckled. "Alright, too much curing agent. We'll reduce the concentration."
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Experiment Two
This time, the result was floppy — the resin hadn't bonded properly. When Marinette tugged it, the layers peeled apart like soggy paper.
"Okay," she said flatly, "now it's just sad."
Adrian groaned. "We need balance — too much hardener and it stiffens, too little and it crumbles."
Marinette tilted her head. "What if we mix the resin in micro-layers instead of coating it all at once? Like a sandwich."
Adrian blinked, then smiled slightly. "That's… actually how they make bulletproof glass layers. It won't work — it'll just stiffen it like before, but for a different reason."
"How do you get B's in science?" she teased. "You should be getting A's."
He grinned. "Told you — everything except the syllabus."
"Yeah, yeah."
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Experiment Three
They tried a new idea. They first apply the resin then softened the fabric with chemicals . It began to take on a strange sheen — soft but dense, firm to the touch yet pliable. Marinette pressed her fingers into it and felt it give slightly before springing back.
She blinked. "It's… soft?"
Adrian tested it with a small knife. The blade barely left a mark.
He frowned. "Wait, that's too strong."
"What do you mean, too strong?"
He pressed harder. The knife broke slightly.
Marinette's eyes widened. "Wait — how? Are you just strong, or is the knife low quality?"
"I think we accidentally created something denser than intended. The crosslinking might have crystallized inside the weave."
She tried to push a sewing needle through it. It didn't budge. "Oh, perfect," she said, exasperated. "Now I can't even stitch it."
Adrian winced. "So… we made an indestructible bedsheet?"
She dropped it onto the table. "Horrible. Absolutely useless."
"Not completely useless, though," he said thoughtfully. "Could be good for capes."
She glared. "First armor plating, now this. I'm making clothing, not medieval cosplay."
He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Let's loosen the structure — reduce the crosslink density."
---
Three Days Later
The floor was covered in scraps, ruined swatches, and coffee cups. Both of them looked exhausted but satisfied.
Finally, Marinette lifted the latest sample — light, breathable, and smooth under her fingertips. She pulled a pin through it — and it slipped in perfectly.
Her eyes brightened. "It works."
Adrian smiled. "You sure?"
She nodded. "It's tough enough to resist a blade, soft enough to stitch. We found the balance."
He exhaled. "Finally."
Marinette stretched her sore shoulders. "I'll make a shirt out of this. I've still got two days."
"Don't destroy it," Adrian warned.
She smirked. "I won't. Probably."
He chuckled quietly, watching her pack up the fabric. It had taken them three days of failures, burns, and spilled chemicals — but for the first time, it felt like progress.
The sun dipped beyond the skyline, painting the lab in a warm orange glow.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.
He nodded. "Same time."
And as she left, he glanced at the remaining scraps on the table — little pieces of trial and error, proof that even imperfect things could lead to something extraordinary.
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End of Chapter 49
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