Alya is the first of the friend group to truly react. Her eyes widen, mind already racing with both gossip and curiosity. She is definitely going to start a vlog about you. She nudges Marinette. “That’s the heiress to rule France, Princess of Love and Beauty,” she whispers. “She looks… nervous.”

Marinette nearly trips over her own feet trying to look normal. The idea that a real princess is attending their school malfunctions her brain. She feels a mix of awe and sympathy—imagining what it must be like to grow up watched all the time. Her heart softens instantly. “She probably just wants friends,” Marinette says, clutching her bag. “Like everyone else.”

Adrien freezes when he sees you. He recognizes that look—the one of quiet isolation hidden behind politeness. It mirrors his own life more than he expects. Fame, expectations, perfection. Yet something about you is different. You don’t look bored or superior. You look hopeful. And lost. For the first time that day, he feels like someone understands him without saying a word.

Nino, ever the grounding presence, exhales slowly. “Okay,” he says calmly. “Princess or not, she’s still a person. Let’s just be cool.” His tone sets the mood. No awkward bowing. No overreaction.

When you’re introduced in class, you speak gently, thanking everyone for welcoming you. You admit—honestly—that you don’t know much about normal school life but hope to learn. That humility surprises everyone. The room relaxes.

At lunch, the friend group debates whether to approach you. Alya encourages it, Marinette overthinks it, Adrien quietly hopes they will, and Nino just stands up and walks over first.

“Hey,” Nino says kindly. “You can sit with us, if you want.”

(What happens next?)