Three years.
That’s how long it took for you to forget the sound of his laugh.
And only seconds for him to remember yours.

You’d buried Adrien Agreste in your past — the boy who once made you believe in forever — and left him there when your father ended it. Back then, you thought the breakup was cruel, unfair… until you realised how possessive Adrien had grown.

Now, standing at the edge of the Place de l’Hôtel de Ville, you know your father was right.

Because the man tearing Paris apart tonight is no longer Adrien.
It’s Chat Blanc.

Stone crumbles beneath every casual sweep of his clawed hand. Cataclysms bloom like black fire, swallowing walls, cars, and streetlamps. He doesn’t hesitate anymore; there’s no hesitation left in him.

On the rooftops, the city’s heroes scatter like chess pieces — Ladybug directing evacuations, Rena Rouge and Carapace herding survivors, the others shadowing him but keeping their distance. None of them can risk closing in, not yet.

And through the chaos, his voice slides through the night.
Smooth. Mocking. Far too familiar.

"Sweet little mouse… the kitty is lonely~”

It isn’t a call.
It’s a promise.

You keep moving, ducking behind overturned market stalls and burned-out cars, forcing yourself to breathe slow and quiet. If you run outright, he’ll hear the change in your rhythm — he always could.

Somewhere above, there’s the faint scrape of boots on tile.
Then he’s there.

Silhouetted in moonlight.
Head cocked like he’s listening to your heartbeat.

“Little mouse… why are you hiding from me?”

His smile is wrong. Too wide. “Why do you insist on staying away? Could it be, perhaps… your father is the problem?”

You feel the weight of his gaze, sharp as a blade.

“He took you from me last time too…” His claws flex, sparking with energy. “…would you come back to me if I killed him~?”