On The Bridge of Arts, tourists flocked, and the sweet aroma of roasted waffles mingled with the whispered murmurs of couples.
It was a festival of love, a day belonging to Paris.
However, in the center of this romantic backdrop, a cruel drama was unfolding.
Kim knelt on one knee, the teenager who was usually full of vigor on the sports field, now moved with an unparalleled clumsiness and stiffness.
His heartbeat was as loud as a drum, making his eardrums buzz.
He held up the small, velvet gift box in his hand and, with all his might, opened it.
Inside the box, lay the blue gemstone ornament, sponsored by Max, which was said to increase one's chances.
Under the sunlight, it refracted clear and deep light, like a solidified ocean.
This was his carefully prepared opening.
Next, should have been the heartfelt confession he had practiced in front of the mirror no less than a hundred times.
However, when he looked up and met Chloé's icy blue eyes, filled with impatience and contempt, all his prepared lines instantly turned into a muddle.
His mind went blank, his tongue tied, and the words "Chloé, I love you" became a humble, trembling request when they reached his lips.
"Ch-Chloé... I... I want..." he stammered, his face flushed, "I... I want to be... be friends with you..."
The air seemed to freeze.
A few seconds later, a sharp, sarcastic, and unreserved laugh broke the awkward silence.
"Hahahahahahaha!"
Chloé laughed so hard she doubled over, as if she had heard the funniest joke of the century.
She pointed at Kim with her exquisitely manicured hand, tears almost streaming from her eyes from laughter.
"Friends? You?"
Sabrina, standing beside her, immediately caught on and started laughing too.
She held the huge poster and looked Kim, who was still kneeling on the ground, up and down with a mocking gaze, as if he were a clown.
She knew Chloé too well; she knew that the words that were about to come would be like the sharpest knives, cutting the heart of this poor wretch to pieces.
"I say, Kim," Chloé finally stopped laughing, but a cruel curve still lingered at the corner of her mouth.
She slowly walked in front of Kim, looking down at him, her eyes like she was scrutinizing a piece of trash on the roadside, "Did a soccer ball kick your brain out?
You want to be friends with me? What makes you think you can?"
Her gaze fell on the small gift box, and the disdain on her face intensified.
"Just this?" She poked the velvet box lightly with the tip of her high-heeled shoe, her tone full of dramatic exaggeration, "What is this? Some cheap glass bead from a two-dollar store's discount shelf?
You actually want to use something like this to be friends with me, Chloé?
Are you insulting me, or are you insulting the word 'friend'?"
Every word was like a heavy hammer, smashing fiercely into Kim's heart.
"No... it's not... this is..." He wanted to explain, wanted to say that he had spent several weeks of his pocket money and asked his best friend to find it.
But Chloé didn't give him a chance to explain.
"Put away your pathetic expression and this cheap trinket."
She interrupted him coldly, turned, and her golden curls drew a decisive arc in the air, "Don't bother me again.
And, don't block my way."
After saying that, she walked past Kim without looking back, her high heels clicking, each step sounding like it was trampling on his dignity.
Kim remained in his kneeling position, completely petrified.
He thought he was prepared, thought he wouldn't break down like Ivan had before, because of rejection.
He thought he was strong enough to endure any outcome.
But it wasn't until now, until he was rejected in the cruelest way by the person he loved, that he truly knew how much that pain hurt.
It was a cold, tearing pain that spread from the deepest part of his heart.
His friends' worries were right; all his preparations seemed so ridiculous and powerless in the face of this cruel reality.
The surrounding tourists also began to point and whisper about him.
"Look, that boy got rejected..."
"How pathetic..."
"Confessing on Valentines Day really takes courage, what a pity..."
He could no longer clearly hear the specifics of these whispers.
In his ears, all sounds twisted, amplified, and finally converged into a huge, malicious roar of laughter.
Laughing at his ignorance.
Laughing at his innocence.
Laughing at his foolishness.
He slowly lowered his head, looking at the small ornament in his hand, which had been called a "cheap glass bead," and his vision began to blur.
A hot tear rolled from his eye, hitting the velvet box and spreading a small dark stain.
Behind him, Chloé, who had already crossed the bridge, quietly slowed her pace.
Sabrina didn't know what happened and quickly followed: "Chloé, what's wrong?"
Chloé didn't answer; she just turned sideways and, from the corner of her eye, glanced at Kim, who was still kneeling in the middle of the bridge, as if abandoned by the world.
A cold and cruel smile played on her lips.
Originally, she was worried about where to find a "scapegoat" for that damned Hawk Moth.
Unexpectedly, today, the perfect "scapegoat" had delivered himself to her.
It was "Valentines Day" after all.
Some find love, while others... are destined to be shattered.
She subtly took something out of her expensive Hermès bag—a completely black, sleeping butterfly, as if condensed from pure negative emotions?
This was the "tool" that mysterious man, Hawk Moth, had left for her a few nights ago.
Sabrina saw the black butterfly, her eyes widened in fear, and she instinctively wanted to gasp.
But Chloé suddenly turned her head and clamped her hand over Sabrina's mouth.
"Mmm... mmm..."
"Shhh—" Chloé's eyes turned sinister, and she lowered her voice, whispering into Sabrina's ear with an unchallengeable, threatening tone, "You want to be friends with me, right?
You want to be my 'best' friend, right?"
Sabrina nodded frantically in terror.
"Then," Chloé's voice carried a sweet, snake-like allure, "'Best' friends keep each other's secrets.
Do you understand, Sabrina?"
Sabrina's body trembled, but she still nodded vigorously.
Chloé then released her hand, satisfied.
She glanced at the black butterfly in her hand, then, in an almost flat tone, as if discarding a piece of trash, she whispered in her heart:
"Go, Akuma Butterfly. Akumatize that poor wretch."
She gently released her fingers, and the black butterfly, as if infused with life, fluttered its wings and silently flew into the sky.
It circled over The Bridge of Arts like a black phantom, then, precisely and without hesitation, swooped down towards the source of heartbreak and despair in the center of the bridge!
Sabrina watched the black butterfly's flight path with a sorrowful and fearful gaze.
She knew something terrible was about to happen.
"Let's go."
Chloé tidied her hair, as if nothing had happened, and led Sabrina away from this romantic bridge, which was about to become a stage for tragedy... The black butterfly, like the embodiment of death, silently landed on the blue gemstone ornament in Kim's hand.
Instantly, a layer of purplish-black, ominous energy spread like a spiderweb, completely engulfing the clear blue.
In Kim's mind, a seductive, deep voice resounded.
"Dark Cupid, I am Hawk Moth. Your heart has been mercilessly trampled because of love.
I grant you power to inflict this pain upon all those in Paris who are immersed in false love.
You will pierce their hypocritical masks with arrows of hatred..."
Hawk Moth was smoothly delivering his classic, captivating lines, but before he could finish, he was interrupted by a simple and direct question.
"...Why?" Kim's consciousness was on the verge of collapse, he instinctively asked the confusion in his heart, "You... why... don't you want the miraculous anymore?"
Hawk Moth, far away in his lair, froze.
A hint of... embarrassment appeared on his confident expression.
Since a few days ago, when he learned the cruel truth of "wishing" from the mouth of that huge, terrifying destruction spirit, he was no longer as fanatical about collecting the miraculous as before.
His goal had quietly shifted to the young man with the "Rewrite" qualification—Jaden.
The miraculous, for him now, were not essential, or rather, they were leverage to force Jaden to cooperate with him, not the ultimate goal.
These past few days, his mind had been consumed with how to plan, how to make Jaden willingly serve him, so much so that he forgot to modify his standard lines when akumatizing Kim.
Unexpectedly, this simple-minded big oaf pointed it out on the spot.
"Ahem..." Hawk Moth cleared his throat, forcefully covering up his blunder, and said in a more authoritative tone, "Of course... I need them!
Alright then, in return, I need you to seize the miraculous of Ladybug and Cat Noir for me!"
"...As you command, Hawk Moth."
After receiving the affirmative answer, Kim finally completely gave up resistance.
He slowly stood up, and purplish-black energy swept over him like a storm.
His body elongated and deformed within the energy's embrace.
A black and red bodysuit quickly covered his entire body, and a large, white, broken heart-shaped pattern appeared on his chest.
His head was covered by a black hood, with only the top of his hair and the area around his eyes being a dazzling blood-red.
Behind him, a pair of huge black wings, like those of a fallen angel, suddenly spread open, their feather tips adorned with ominous red stripes.
A heart-shaped, spiky quiver appeared on his back, and in his hand, he held a black longbow, also heart-shaped, but filled with an aura of hatred.
Kim had disappeared. In his place was the embodiment of revenge—Dark Cupid.
"I will make all of Paris... a festival of heartbreak!"
He let out a roar filled with pain and hatred, spread his wings, and soared into the Parisian sky.
On the other side, in the lair, Hawk Moth stood silently, his expression behind the mask completely unruffled.
He didn't, as usual, issue a passionate, triumphant declaration after the Akumatized Person was born, nor did he use a mental link to urge or control his "warrior."
He just stood there, like a detached, indifferent spectator, watching his work unfold on a distant stage.
His thoughts were no longer on the newly born Dark Cupid.
The miraculous… now, to him, it had become a hot potato, a chicken rib—flavorless to eat, yet a pity to discard.
Even if that word had once been the sole pillar of his life, the origin and end of all his sins.
But now, its weight in his heart had subtly shifted.
He no longer needed that so-called "miraculous Wish."
Even if he gathered the powers of creation and destruction, the wish he made would merely be a beautiful wedding gown for another version of himself in a parallel universe.
He didn't want a parallel world; he didn't want "another" Gabriel to have "another" Emilie.
He didn't want a false, replaced happiness.
What he wanted was this current world, the world where his fashion empire stood, the world he and Emilie had lived in together, a world full of memories.
What he wanted was the original Emilie, the one belonging to this world, back by his side.
And the only key was in Jaden's hands.
Therefore, every Akumatization now became a meticulously choreographed, flawless performance.
He had to maintain the facade, playing the role of Hawk Moth, who was obsessively desperate for the miraculous.
He couldn't let Ladybug and Cat Noir detect any abnormality, much less let the miraculous Guardian, hidden in the shadows and whose identity remained unknown, see his true intentions.
Once they realized his objective had shifted, once they discovered that what he truly wanted to covet was the forbidden power within Jaden, then everything would become incredibly tricky.
So, today's Akumatization was merely a necessary performance to maintain the status quo.
Therefore, the heroes must exist, and the battle must continue.
This protracted "cat and mouse game" must continue to play out day after day, just as it always had.
Until he found the perfect moment when Jaden would willingly serve him; then, he would only need to dark transform Jaden, and Jaden himself would help him retrieve the miraculous.
"Nooroo, detransform."
He softly recited the detransformation command. The purplish-black light receded, revealing his pristine white loungewear.
Nooroo, the small, purple butterfly-like kwami, flew out of the brooch, her face filled with an unprecedented confusion.
She flew two circles around her master, her small head brimming with big questions.
"Master…" Nooroo cautiously began, her voice faint, "You… seem a little different today?"
Gabriel glanced at her, saying nothing.
"It's just…" Nooroo struggled to organize her words, "Normally, after your warrior is born, you would be… well, very excited.
Even if the plan later failed, you would be… very unwilling to give up.
But today, you seem… too calm."
So calm that Nooroo felt a touch of unfamiliarity, even a hint of… fear.
It was as if… he didn't care at all.
"This is the first time I've seen you like this."
Gabriel looked into Nooroo's eyes, filled with innocent confusion, and his heart remained undisturbed.
He, of course, knew what Nooroo was wondering, but he didn't intend to explain.
The secret about Plagg's true form, about the "Rewrite" qualification, about universe replacement, was too significant; he wouldn't tell this little kwami, who was useless except for providing power.
Such a truth, capable of shaking the entire cosmic law, was enough for him and Nathalie to know.
"I have more important matters to attend to."
He said in an unchallengeable, cold tone, "I don't have time to deal with these trivialities for now."
He extended his finger and pointed to the brooch on his chest: "Go back."
"But, Master…"
"Go back."
Nooroo dared not say more and could only transform into a purple light, reluctantly flying back into the accessory.
"Stay inside until I need you. Do not make unnecessary sounds."
Gabriel left the cold, damp lair and returned to his design studio.
On the walls hung his proudest works from various periods. As soon as he sat down, Nathalie's video call connected, her background still that immaculate office.
"Sir," Nathalie's voice was as efficient and calm as ever, "News from Milan: they've made unauthorized changes to a few details of the new season's 'Dawn' collection haute couture samples.
Also, the facial modeling for the virtual models deviates from your requirements."
Gabriel's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of displeasure flashing in his eyes. He picked up the stylus from the table, called up the relevant design sketches on the virtual design board, and after just one glance, he issued an order into the communicator in an irrefutable, absolutely authoritative tone:
"Call their chief designer. Tell him that the models and the clothes must strictly adhere to the plan I provided. A single deviation, more or less, is trash.
I don't care what their reasons are; everything must be done my way."
"Yes, Sir."
After hanging up, Gabriel immersed all his attention in the design sketches before him.
His fingers rapidly glided, modified, and annotated in the air, his gaze focused and critical, as if the supervillain who had been strategizing in the lair moments ago was merely one of his many unremarkable masks… In Adrien's equally vast but more like a luxurious entertainment room, the atmosphere was somewhat subdued.
He sat on the soft sofa. Plagg was leisurely perched atop an oversized monitor that almost covered an entire wall.
Her two short legs dangled, and she munched on cheese, indistinctly offering her opinions to the sighing boy below the screen.
"I say… can you please stop making that sound like a leaky bellows? It's affecting my enjoyment of the cheese's aroma."
Adrien ignored her complaints, his emerald green eyes staring blankly at the giant screen before him.
On the left, a collection of photos of Jaden.
There were pictures of him lazily sleeping at his desk, candid shots of him with Nathan and Max, arms around each other, laughing heartily, a moment of him leaping to shoot a basketball, and… one enlarged photo from that day at the hospital, when his father's image appeared on the tablet, Jaden subtly stepped forward half a pace, cleverly using his body to shield most of Adrien's profile.
On the right, were photos of Ladybug. All were dynamic combat photos taken by the media.
She wielded her yo-yo, soaring across the rooftops of Paris; she battled Akumatized Persons, her eyes firm and sharp. In every photo, she seemed like an unattainable, haloed idol.
Her face was always covered by that red-and-black polka-dotted mask, making it impossible to discern her true expression or guess her real thoughts.
Who she was, what she looked like, what her life was like… Adrien found that he no longer craved the answers to these questions as much as before.
And Jaden… this person, nominally his first and best friend, he felt he could never truly see into his heart.
His thoughts had long drifted back to those past fragments.
He would always remember that on his first day at the new school, everyone kept their distance from him because of his "Agreste" surname and his connection to Chloé. Only Jaden, unfazed, walked over, extended his hand, and pulled him into the small, laughter-filled group of Kim and Nino.
He also remembered that during those tightly scheduled itineraries arranged by his father, the few occasional class gatherings were almost always initiated by Jaden's invitations, which gave him a chance to briefly breathe outside that golden cage.
He remembered even more vividly that a few days ago in the hospital, when he faced his father's cold, questioning image on the tablet, that familiar, bone-deep fear and powerlessness almost consumed him.
It was Jaden, who, with his body, stood squarely between him and that cold screen.
In that moment, he felt an unprecedented warmth, named "Guardian."
In stark contrast was his relationship with Ladybug.
Once, she was his light, everything he admired and pursued.
He thought they were unique partners, fighting side by side.
However, during the Stormy Weather incident, the unexpected kiss between Jaden and Ladybug during the live broadcast made her even more distant from him afterward.
He also recalled countless times after battles ended, he wanted to stay with her a little longer, wanted to chat with her, but she always hurried away, citing "about to detransform," never even giving him one true, maskless conversation.
She was always so lukewarm, so polite and distant towards him, as if he were just… an ordinary, replaceable work partner.
One was a gentle presence who always showed him kindness, even silently protecting him.
The other was a red phantom he had once admired with all his heart, yet who remained as cold as ice towards him.
Adrien found that the scales in his heart were, unknowingly, tipping dramatically.
This contrast was so striking, so… vexing.
He realized that the time he spent lately thinking about "What kind of person is Jaden, really?" seemed to have far exceeded the time spent thinking about "How can I win Ladybug's heart?"
He even felt that uncovering the secrets hidden beneath Jaden's lazy exterior was… more appealing than unmasking Ladybug.
"Sigh…" Adrien let out another long sigh.
"Stop!" Plagg, atop the monitor, finally couldn't take it anymore. She swallowed the last bit of cheese in her paw and wiped her greasy paws across her mouth.
Then, like a little devil, she looked down at her master, "I say, young master, why are you thinking so much?
If you want to know the answer, just go do it!
No matter which one, couldn't you just rush up and ask?"
"That would be too reckless." Adrien shook his head. "Besides… he and I see each other every day at school, there's no rush."
"See each other every day?"
A big question Marc appeared above Plagg's small head. "You and 'her' see each other every day? How come I don't know?"
Adrien was also stunned: "'He,' not 'she.'"
"Huh?"
"Ah?"
The boy and the kwami simultaneously uttered sounds of confusion.
"I was talking about Ladybug!" Plagg said matter-of-factly. "Haven't you always been troubled by her? Otherwise, who did you think I was talking about when I said 'her'?"
"…I was talking about Jaden." Adrien replied with some helplessness.
A strange silence fell over the room.
Plagg's emerald green cat eyes blinked and blinked. It looked at Jaden on the left side of the screen, then at Ladybug on the right side of the screen, and finally, its gaze landed on its master's handsome face, which was filled with "trouble."
One person and one cat stared at each other, both seeing a hint of… bewilderment in the other's eyes.
On the street, the afternoon sun was still warm, but Marinette and Alya's moods were like they were covered by a small dark cloud, feeling a bit down.
"I'm such an idiot…" Marinette hung her head, her dark blue pigtails drooping listlessly.
As she walked, she kicked small pebbles on the roadside, her voice full of self-reproach, "I was so stupid, I shouldn't have given Kim advice in that situation."
They both knew that Chloé's target had always been Jaden alone. Kim's "charge" this time was nothing short of a moth flying into a flame, destined to end up bruised and battered.
And their encouragement just now, looking back, was practically like being an accomplice, personally pushing a poor guy off a cliff.
Alya also regretted her actions just now, but she knew how to adjust her emotions faster than Marinette.
She put her arm around her friend's shoulder and comforted her in a deliberately relaxed tone: "Alright, alright, don't worry. With Kim's optimistic personality, even if he's rejected, he'll only be sad for a few days at most, and he'll be back to his lively self in a couple of days.
Besides, this can also be considered a punishment for him for teasing Ivan back then."
She brought up that old incident. A few months ago, Kim used a mischievous little note, which directly led to the introverted Ivan being dark transformed by Hawk Moth.
Afterward, although Kim tried to make amends, he clearly overestimated Ivan's musical ability, causing the already sensitive boy to lose face in front of the entire school.
Ultimately, Ivan couldn't bear the pressure and applied to the principal for leave from school.
This news didn't spread in the class until a few weeks later, and although the atmosphere was heavy at the time, as time went on, it gradually faded from memory.
"Just consider it… karma," Alya shrugged.
"But…" Marinette still felt a bit uneasy; her kind nature prevented her from ignoring anyone's suffering.
Seeing her friend about to get stuck in a rut again, Alya decided to go for a big move to distract her.
"Alright, stop talking about those depressing things!" She stopped, turned around, placed her hands on Marinette's shoulders, and said with a serious expression, "Now, we should talk about you and Jaden!"
As soon as she heard the name "Jaden," Marinette's body was like a switch had been flipped.
Her thoughts, which had been immersed in worry, were instantly pulled away.
Her gaze began to wander, her body became a bit stiff, her limbs moved awkwardly, and she stammered, "Me… me and him… what about us?"
"Of course there's something!" Alya took out Jaden's sketchbook, which she had "borrowed," from her bag, flipped to that page, and said, "It's about writing back to him!"
The picture of the strangely depicted Ladybug appeared before Marinette's eyes again.
She looked at the drawing, once again finding herself at a loss. Write back? Write what? What should she say?
"Don't just stand there like an idiot, come with me!" Seeing her like this, Alya took her hand without question and quickly walked towards Marinette's house, pulling her along.
"Ding-a-ling—"
The wind chimes at the entrance of the bakery made a crisp sound. Inside, Tom was busy in the back kitchen, and the rich aroma of butter wafted out, bringing a sense of comfort.
"Hello, Uncle Tom!" Alya greeted him familiarly.
"Alya and my little darling are back," Tom smiled.
After receiving a response, the two rushed up the stairs, passed through the living room, opened the secret door, and plunged into Marinette's attic sanctuary.
With a "bang," the secret door closed, and Marinette finally shook off Alya's hand. She leaned against the door, panting, and asked with some complaint, "Alya, what exactly do you want to do?"
"What do I want to do?" Alya put her hands on her hips, with an expression that said "Are you stupid?", and slapped the sketchbook onto Marinette's workbench, "Jaden drew Ladybug, so you just draw a portrait of Cat Noir in return for him, wouldn't that be perfect?"
She looked at Marinette's wide blue eyes, opened in surprise, and continued to coax, "Think about it, you directly use Jaden's appearance as the prototype to draw a super handsome Cat Noir, and then anonymously send it to him.
This expresses your feelings without revealing your identity; it's simply the perfect response!"
Marinette's eyes instantly lit up.
"That's right!" She slapped her forehead in sudden realization, "How did I not think of that?"
This method was practically tailor-made for her shy and introverted personality!
She could pour all her emotions, all her admiration, onto the paintbrush, conveying them to Jaden in a subtle yet romantic way.
"Alya! You're amazing!" Marinette excitedly pounced on her, giving her best friend a big hug.
"Of course."
Alya raised her eyebrows triumphantly, enjoying the intimate closeness between friends.
However, beneath her seemingly relaxed and cheerful smile, a subtle, bitter apology flickered deep within her heart.
She knew very well that ever since Rose fell ill and Jaden accompanied her throughout, the "fair competition" concerning Jaden had become severely imbalanced.
Rose now almost completely held the initiative, while Marinette was still stuck in place, "abba abba."
As her best friend, she couldn't help but feel anxious just watching.
She told Marinette to try harder, but how could she try harder when Marinette didn't even have the courage to speak? What could she do?
She could only push her in this way, even if it was just a small step forward.
"Alright, alright," Alya patted Marinette's back, breaking free from her embrace, "I won't disturb your great artistic inspiration. I'll go downstairs and wait; call me when you're done with the drawing."
With that, she waved her hand gracefully and left the attic.
The attic became quiet again, with only Marinette remaining.
She looked at the blank drawing paper in front of her, took a deep breath, her face filled with determination.
Just then, a small, fuchsia light flew out of her cross-body bag.
"Marinette, what are you going to draw?" It was Tikki. It flew around Marinette once, asking curiously.
"I…" Marinette picked up her paintbrush, but once again fell into distress.
Drawing a Jaden-version of Cat Noir, this idea was good. But what should it look like? Like the tight-fitting suit in the animation?
No, no, no, that's too ordinary.
It had to be creative, something that would instantly impress him without him associating it with Cat Noir himself.
Seeing Marinette's distressed expression, Tikki's eyes darted around, and it suddenly suggested, "Marinette, how about… we add a bit of Eastern martial arts style? Isn't Jaden from the East? He'll definitely like it!"
"Eastern martial arts?"
These four words, like a flash of lightning, instantly cut through the fog in Marinette's mind.
That's right! How did she not think of that! Jaden always carried a unique Eastern aura that seemed out of place in Paris.
That feeling of sharpness within laziness, and resilience hidden beneath gentleness, wasn't that just like the masters in those wuxia novels?
"Tikki, you're a genius!" Marinette excitedly kissed the little kwami's face, and in her mind, countless inspirations burst forth like a spring.
She no longer hesitated, and the paintbrush in her hand began to dance quickly across the paper.
A brand new image of Cat Noir, full of Eastern mystique, gradually took shape under her brush.
The main color was cool black, but not a monotonous pure black.
She used different shades of ink to outline a highly designed Chinese-style sleeveless top, with subtle patterns embroidered in silver thread at the collar and cuffs, understated yet luxurious.
On the young man's head, he wore a black headband decorated with cat ears, which both highlighted the "Cat Noir" theme and added a touch of playfulness.
For his lower body, he wore flowing white wide-leg pants, creating a strong visual contrast with the black top, appearing dashing and uninhibited. At his waist, a black belt cinched his slender waist, adorned with a splash of vibrant red, flame-like ornament, adding a bright touch to the entire picture.
Long black gloves extended to his elbows, and black cloth shoes were light and silent.
The most striking feature was the several flowing black ribbons behind the young man, like brushstrokes of an ink wash painting, dancing with his imagined movements, full of dynamism and chivalry.
She perfectly integrated Jaden's handsome yet somewhat languid face into this image.
In the painting, his lips were slightly upturned, his eyes sharp yet composed, as if in the next second, he would step on the moon and go forth to administer justice.
"Finished!"
As the last stroke fell, Marinette looked at her masterpiece and let out a satisfied sigh.
She believed that when Jaden saw this painting, he would definitely be amazed.
He would only think it was a gift from one of his fans who also loved Eastern culture, and would never suspect her.
She called downstairs, and a moment later, Alya returned to the attic.
"Wow!" When Alya saw the painting, she couldn't help but exclaim, "Marinette, you're a genius! This drawing is so handsome!"
Having received her friend's affirmation, Marinette became even more confident.
She carefully rolled up the drawing paper, placed it in a drawing tube, and then, with Alya, stealthily, like two agents going on a secret mission, walked towards the public mailbox in the nearby park.
The moment she dropped the letter, carrying a girl's unspoken feelings, into the mailbox, Marinette's heart, with a soft "clunk," flew to an unknown distance.