The memories, like a black-and-white silent film on loop, froze in Hawk Moth's mind.
The final frame: Jaden's icy fists pounding again and again into the silver-masked face, every blow landing with the dull crunch of shifting bone.
Had he not frantically explained that he, too, was a victim, and had the video on the tablet not shown 'Gabriel'—played by Nathalie—pleading with him,
he would have had no doubt Jaden would have beaten him to death right there.
Hawk Moth instinctively raised a hand, touching through the mask the bruise that still mottled his right cheek a livid purple.
The cold of the mask could not quite smother the stinging humiliation beneath.
'Still…'
he murmured, a strange excitement threading his voice, 'getting hit wasn't a total loss.'
Slowly he opened his palm.
Deep in the lair a hidden corner of air shimmered, and a wisp of red light—fragile as a candle in the wind—floated out.
It drifted through the swirling white butterflies and settled on his hand.
Resting there was a Ladybug no larger than a fingernail.
Its wings were dull red, the black spots blurred.
It was the akuma Jaden had created that night with the peacock miraculous.
Hawk Moth gazed at the tiny akuma, eyes blazing as if he had found a treasure beyond price.
This was no mere akuma—this was a key.
'Hawk Moth…'
he whispered to the Ladybug as though to a lover,
'You'd better hurry out… don't, don't keep him waiting too long.'
A cold smile curved his lips.
He had never imagined Jaden could carry such a thirst for revenge.
Still, all the better.
The deeper the resentment, the easier the guide, and the sooner the prey would fall into the web he had so carefully spun.
He was one step closer to victory…
Meanwhile, on the other side of Paris, in Jaden's apartment.
The setting sun painted the sky a warm, honeyed orange.
Jaden pushed open the door and the familiar scent of home drifted over him.
In the living-room Duusu hovered in mid-air, transfixed by the cartoon on TV, tiny legs swinging, utterly absorbed.
The instant the door clicked, he froze like a child caught red-handed.
The screen snapped off; Duusu spun around, presenting Jaden with the back of his head, small body radiating the clear signal: I'm cross—come coax me.
Jaden smiled helplessly at the sulking sprite.
He knew Duusu was still furious about Wednesday night, when he had forced the use of the peacock miraculous.
Instead of going to him, Jaden walked past the sofa and headed for the kitchen.
As he went he recalled the dream woven during the 'Angel of Tears' incident: Mylène's fear braided with his own memories.
The girl named Sharina—sole light in a grey world, the vanished silhouette… It had been only a dream, yet the ache felt brutally real.
On the sofa, though Duusu's back was turned, he tracked Jaden's every move.
When Jaden strode to the kitchen without a glance or a word of comfort, a wave of grievance swelled inside him.
Wasn't he angry only because he feared for Jaden's health?
The miraculous was damaged; each use inflicted irreversible harm on its holder.
Yet Jaden hadn't even offered a greeting.
So… just like every other holder, after a while he treated his kwami as nothing but a tool to fulfil wishes?
Was that all Duusu meant to him now?
The more Duusu thought, the more wretched he became, tiny body trembling.
While he brooded, a rich, irresistible aroma drifted from the kitchen.
The scent of baked cheese, pan-seared steak, and creamy mushroom soup mingled in the air.
'Smells good…' Duusu murmured involuntarily.
His stomach gave a loud, traitorous growl, and half his grievances melted before the onslaught of fragrance.
He fluttered to the doorway and peeked around the frame.
Inside, Jaden stood at the stove in an apron, working with easy skill.
In the pan the steaks hissed, caramel-crusted and perfect;
in the oven a gratin of cheesy potatoes bubbled golden;
beside it, ivory mushroom soup simmered.
Every dish was Duusu's favourite.
The sight set his mouth watering.
So… he does care. He's making all my favourites!
Shame washed over him for ever thinking himself a mere tool.
Just then Jaden began to turn his head.
With a squeak Duusu zipped back to the sofa, resuming his stiff, haughty pose as if he had never moved.
Jaden's lips curved in a smile.
Of course he had sensed the little spy.
Unhurriedly he dished the food onto dainty plates, arranged them on a tray, and carried it out.
He set the feast on the coffee-table, then moved to the sofa and, voice gentle, coaxed the sulking sprite.
'Duusu, dinner's ready.'
'Hmph! I'm not eating anything!'
Duusu still presented the back of his head, tone every inch the miffed little girlfriend.
Jaden's patience seemed infinite. Sitting down, he gently pinched Duusu's round, soft shoulder.
'All right, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used the peacock miraculous against your wishes last Wednesday.
Forgive me, my little Duusu?'
Duusu squirmed under the tickling fingers, but kept his prideful sniff: 'Hmph! I won't be won over so easily!'
Yet his eyes had already slid to the feast: crispy golden prawns, steak draped in rich gravy, fragrant mushroom soup… Three seconds of silence.
'I want that!'
And that one too!
Duusu couldn't keep up the act any longer.
She spun around; somehow a pair of tiny chopsticks had already appeared in her little hand. Mouth open, eyes wide, she stared at Jaden and pointed at the dishes on the table.
Jaden smiled and shook his head. Picking up his chopsticks, he speared a bite-sized piece of steak, dabbed it in sauce, and carefully fed it to her.
Duusu gulped it down with an "ahh," eyes narrowing in bliss as her little legs swung happily in the air.
Like this, Jaden fed her bite after bite, patient and steady.
The meal ended in a warmth that was almost comical.
Full and content, Duusu patted her round little belly and let out a satisfied burp.
She fluttered in front of Jaden, still wearing a trace of her usual haughtiness.
'All right… I'll let you off the hook this time, Jaden.'
Her expression turned grave; deep worry filled those blue eyes.
'But Jaden, you really must stop using the Ladybug
Every time you do, it hurts your body and your mind.'
'I know.'
Jaden's heart warmed at her half-stern, half-soft tone.
He opened his arms and gently drew the little sprite who fretted over him into an embrace.
Duusu nestled quietly against him, feeling his familiar warmth and scent.
'Duusu,'
Jaden murmured, looking down at her, 'I told you before—as long as that special power inside me remains,
using a damaged miraculous can't really harm me. I'll just sleep it off like last time, right?'
'But…'
Duusu lifted her head; struggle and unease filled those pure eyes.
'But none of us even knows what that power is!
No one can say what it might do to you in the long run!
It might… it might ruin everything—ruin you!'
Her voice trembled with her deepest fear.
'Then… then let's find the Guardian of the miraculous?'
she suggested tentatively. 'We can ask for his help to repair the peacock miraculous, all right?
Even though… even though he might take it away and I'll lose time with you, you'd be truly safe!'
Jaden's answer was absolute.
'No.'
He looked down at the little sprite in his arms, gaze steady and tender. 'I won't give you up, Duusu. Not once.'
'And we'll find a way to fix this. I promise.'
Meeting his resolute eyes, Duusu felt every last worry and fear smooth away.
She said nothing more, only tucked her small head deeper into Jaden's chest.
Thus, boy and sprite held each other and drifted to sleep in the quiet night.
Because he had used the peacock miraculous on Wednesday night, Jaden slept long and deep for the next few days.
Tomorrow his promise to Mylène awaited… and Saturday arrived quickly.
Early-morning sunlight filtered through thin mist onto the streets of Paris.
The air was fresh, cool with dew.
Jaden reached the agreed spot—a little bridge over the Seine—well ahead of time.
Dressed in comfortable casual clothes, he leaned on the railing, watching tour boats pass and enjoying the rare weekend calm.
Before long a petite figure in sportswear, rainbow-dreadlocks bouncing, jogged up.
It was Mylène.
She reached the bridge, saw Jaden already waiting, and panted apologetically.
'S-sorry, Jaden, am… am I late?'
she asked anxiously.
'Not at all, Mylène,'
Jaden smiled. 'I'm early. Ready?'
'Mm!'
She nodded hard, excitement replacing most of her nervousness.
Together they set off toward the stray-animal shelter.
The shelter sat in an old quarter, a grassroots charity run by volunteers.
Jaden, new to this, felt lost at first.
But with Mylène and the other warm staff guiding him, he soon found his rhythm.
From filling food and water bowls to cleaning cages and playing with traumatised animals to rebuild their trust in people—
the chores were messy and small, yet he tackled them earnestly.
He discovered that focusing on these fragile lives stilled the turmoil inside him.
Mylène watched, expecting a popular guy like Jaden might balk at dirty work.
Instead he threw himself in without complaint, more absorbed than anyone.
Morning passed quickly. In the afternoon they walked the calmer dogs in the nearby park to accustom them to the outside world.
As they crossed a little bridge, Jaden's gaze was drawn to a lone figure.
On a lakeside bench sat Kagami, quietly by herself.
She wore smart sportswear, chin-length dark-blue hair drifting in the breeze.
No phone, no book—only empty eyes on the glittering water, her cool profile tinged with loneliness.
'That's Kagami…'
Mylène whispered, slowing her steps.
'She looks so lonely… Should we… invite her?'
Jaden's heart stirred at the solitary silhouette.
He began, 'All right, I'll go ask—'
But timid Mylène surprised him.
She took a deep breath and declared, 'L-let me do it! We're both girls—maybe talking will be easier!'
She handed her leash to Jaden and, mustering courage, walked toward Kagami… who, on her bench, had no idea what to do with the strange emptiness inside her.
Every weekend and holiday had always been packed by her mother—until now.
Kendo, piano, calligraphy, tea ceremony—every kind of cram class and family lesson swallowed her free time.
She moved like a precision doll programmed to obey, executing her mother's orders day after day.
This weekend her mother scheduled nothing—only the words "free time."
What was "free time"? She had no idea.
So she drifted to the park, sat by the lake, stared, and let the minutes slide.
A timid voice piped up beside her.
"Um… Kagami?"
Kagami turned and saw the class's shyest girl—Mylène.
Her cool, unrippled gaze met Mylène's, Her tone flat.
"What is it?"
Mylène flinched at the chill, half-stepping back.
But she straightened, remembering her courage. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Resting."
Kagami's answer was spare.
"Well…"
Mylène swallowed. "We're holding a stray-animal rescue over there… would you like to join?"
"A charity event?"
Kagami's fine brows drew together—unknown territory.
In her world there was only victory or defeat; nothing this… meddlesome.
Mylène rattled off details, but Kagami's interest stayed at zero.
Tending weak creatures? Weakness itself was a sin.
Her creed: grow stronger, surpass everyone.
"Thanks,"
she said coolly, "but no."
"Oh… okay…"
Mylène's face fell; she murmured an apology and trudged back toward Jaden.
Kagami watched her go, then saw Jaden waiting with dogs, smiling.
He spoke, then gently patted Mylène's head.
Mylène's gloom melted at once.
They laughed together, easy and bright.
A strange, restless feeling stirred in Kagami—unfamiliar, irritating.
She glanced at her own empty bench, then stood and walked after them.
Jaden had just soothed Mylène and turned to work again.
A clear voice rose behind them.
"Mylène."
They spun round—Kagami stood there.
"Sorry,"
she told Mylène, tone softer. "I… was abrupt. I'd like to try."
"Eh?"
Mylène beamed. "Really? Great—welcome, Kagami!"
No embarrassment—just genuine joy.
The rescue team gained a new member.
At first Kagami balked.
Bathing a filthy puppy made her recoil.
Cleaning cages, she hovered, lost.
But with Mylène and Jaden showing the way, she tried.
When she towel-dried a trembling kitten and felt it relax against her, purring, something inside her shifted.
This… was oddly fun.
Plus, she could observe Jaden up close.
He was an enigma—focused, patient, yet now and then his eyes flashed a depth too old for his age.
Interesting, she judged.
Pity his combat score looked abysmal—he'd crumple in one hit.
While they worked and laughed, across Paris a small "disaster" unfolded.
"Marinette! Where are we going? Where's Prince?"
Manon tugged Marinette's sleeve for the nth time.
Her small face scrunched; her steps dragged.
Marinette's head throbbed.
They'd wandered the block for an hour like lost flies.
She only knew Jaden was doing charity somewhere—no address.
Alya's intel net was down; family chores had claimed her.
Memory and guesswork led them through crumbling alleys.
"Almost there, Manon—hang on!"
Marinette lied, phone map useless.
"You've said that ten times!"
Manon pouted. "My legs are falling off! If I don't see Prince soon I'll die of thirst, hunger, and exhaustion!"
Marinette groaned, regretting the moment she'd agreed to bring this tiny tyrant.