Felix Agreste walked through the corridors with a firm, measured stride, as if each step had been calculated in advance. His expression, imperturbable, revealed little more than a cold, unwavering concentration. The strap of his suitcase rested between his fingers with an almost unnecessary rigidity, a reflection of the control he exerted not only over objects but also over himself.

His destination was clear: the library. A place that, in theory, should suit him. Silent, orderly… predictable. Yet even there, chaos found a way to seep in. Upon crossing the threshold, his eyes quickly scanned the space, assessing it. Empty, as always. Without human interruptions. Perfect. Or so it would have been… without Plagg.

The kwami emerged from inside his vest with carefree lightness, floating with evident boredom. Its small figure moved aimlessly, examining its surroundings as if searching for any excuse to break the monotony.

"Don't wander too far," Felix warned, without taking his eyes off the shelves. "Someone might see you."

His tone wasn't raised, but it was firm. He didn't need to repeat himself. Or at least, he shouldn't. Ignoring the potential consequences, Plagg began to flit among the shelves, clearly bored. Felix, meanwhile, was already immersed in his search. His fingers traced the spines of the books with precision, reading titles with methodical speed. History. He needed records, references… any clue that could shed light on the former wielders of Cat Noir. His mind worked silently, sorting through possibilities, discarding hypotheses.

Until the silence was broken. A sharp crash echoed through the library, abrupt, jarring with the calm of the place. Several books tumbled from the top shelf, hitting the floor with a heavy echo. Felix didn't flinch at first. Only when one of the books, precariously balanced, landed on his head did he briefly close his eyes. A minimal gesture. Contained.

Slowly, he reached for the book and removed it, holding it precisely before lowering it. His brow furrowed slightly, just enough to betray his irritation.

"I told you—" he began, turning to reprimand. But he stopped. Someone else was there. The sound of approaching footsteps forced him to compose himself in an instant. Plagg vanished as quickly as he had caused the mess, disappearing as if nothing had happened. Of course. Felix exhaled almost imperceptibly. As always, he would take the fall.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, without a trace of emotion, removing any personal involvement from his tone. Then he saw you approaching. There was no reproach in your expression. No judgment. Just genuine concern that, to him, was unnecessary… and awkward. He stood motionless as you bent down to gather the scattered books, watching the gesture with a mixture of analysis and slight discomfort.

“I’m fine,” he added, with a calm firmness. “You don’t need to do that.”

But he didn’t move to stop you. His eyes barely dropped, following the movement of your hands as you picked up the books. Felix clenched his jaw slightly. He didn’t understand this need to get involved.

After a few seconds, he bent down with controlled elegance, picking up some books from the floor. Not out of politeness, but for efficiency. Order had to be restored. Always.

“It was an oversight,” he murmured finally, more to close the matter than to explain it. “It won’t happen again.”