Alya's mischievous smile was especially clear in the rainy curtain.
She tilted her umbrella slightly, revealing her eyes that seemed to see through everything, sparkling with gossip, and said in a drawn-out, meaningful tone, "I — saw — everything!"
Marinette immediately felt all the blood rush to her head, her cheeks so hot they could fry an egg.
She fumbled, like a cat caught by its tail, almost dropping the umbrella in her hand, but ultimately held onto it tightly out of instinct.
"Al… Alya! When… when were you there?" Her voice stammered from guilt, losing its usual softness.
"Oh—?" Alya deliberately drew out her tone, slowly walking over to her.
"I was not far behind when someone, like a hero, handed an umbrella to another 'damsel in distress.' I was originally thinking that if Jaden only had one umbrella, I'd have to make a friendly guest appearance and escort my good sister home.
Now it seems I was overthinking; he was thoroughly prepared."
Every word of hers was like a small arrow, accurately hitting Marinette's wildly beating heart.
"We… we… it's not what you think!" Marinette rushed to explain, but her flustered appearance, in Alya's eyes, was practically a self-incrimination.
"Really?" Alya raised an eyebrow, "Then why were you holding His umbrella and smiling foolishly under the eaves, staring at His back?"
"I wasn't smiling foolishly!" Marinette retorted loudly, but her voice lacked conviction.
The two walked side by side in the rain, holding umbrellas.
Alya continued to tease, while Marinette, like a startled rabbit, made futile excuses.
The umbrellas blocked the view of others, also providing excellent privacy for the little Kwami in the crossbody bag.
After being teased by Alya until her face was red again, Marinette finally couldn't help but bury her face in the shadow of the umbrella, complaining to Tikki in her crossbody bag in a voice almost only she could hear, "Tikki! Alya was right behind me just now, why didn't you warn me!"
Tikki's equally tiny, slightly innocent voice came from the crossbody bag, "I did warn you, Marinette.
I warned you several times.
But… you were staring blankly at Jaden's back, not even blinking, and you couldn't hear me when I called you.
I was afraid of being discovered by your friend, so I had to hide back in the bag first."
"Boom—!"
Tikki's words exploded in Marinette's mind like a clap of thunder.
She felt her cheeks completely lose temperature control, going from scorching hot to almost spontaneously combusting.
She… she had actually stared blankly at Jaden's back, so much so that she couldn't even hear Tikki's warning?
She secretly glanced at Alya, who was still chattering beside her, and a strong urge to immediately find a hole to crawl into surged in her heart.
She knew that any explanation now would only make things worse.
So, she could only choose the most primitive method—changing the subject.
"Ah! Right! Alya! How was the reaction after you posted that video on your blog?"
…The rain washed over the streets of Paris, and also washed over everyone's thoughts.
And Jaden, after parting ways with Marinette, walked step by step with his umbrella back to the apartment that belonged to him, yet felt alien to him.
He didn't turn on the lights.
The room was dark, with only the city's reflected, rain-drenched neon lights from outside the window casting a mottled, flowing light and shadow on the floor.
He placed his wet umbrella by the door, took off his jacket, and then, like a puppet from whom all bones had been removed, walked straight to the bed and fell backward, sinking deep into the soft mattress.
The cold sheets touching his skin made him shiver, but his thoughts were even more chaotic than this autumn rain, and deeper than this dark room.
He lay quietly on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
That darkness now seemed to become a giant curtain, staging a play titled "Self-Deconstruction" that belonged only to him.
"I… can be dark transformed."
This thought, like a red-hot branding iron, repeatedly and ruthlessly seared itself into his mind.
This was not just a fact, but a subversion.
It subverted the most core, fundamental understanding he had built for himself after coming to this world.
He had always thought he was different.
Because he had transmigrated and knew most of the plot's direction, he felt he could use these plot points to get what he wanted, and he enjoyed this detached stance.
He could calmly analyze different people's personalities, predict their actions, and even use their "plot points" to achieve his goals.
All of this gave him an unparalleled thrill of controlling everything.
But today, Hawk Moth, this "wish-granting machine, BOSS" in his eyes, gave him a resounding slap in a way he had never expected… A lonely soul not belonging to this world… You hypocritical, world-abandoned wanderer… Those words still echoed in his ears, each word like a sharp ice pick, piercing through the thick layer of ice he had disguised with "detachment" and "languor," reaching the deepest, most unwillingly acknowledged barren permafrost of his heart.
Yes, loneliness.
Bone-chilling, boundless loneliness.
Who was he before transmigrating?
Where did he come from?
Those memories, for some reason, had become like something from a past life, clearly remembered as having transmigrated with his body, yet vague and distant.
He only knew he had arrived here, his identity "arranged" by the world, and a residence "bestowed" upon him.
He was like a chess piece thrown onto the board out of thin air; even if he could understand the game, he still… didn't belong to this game.
He talked, smiled, and interacted with the people around him, and even… plotted how to win their hearts.
But was this truly what he wanted?
Or was it just his way of combating that pervasive sense of loneliness?
He mocked Ivan's foolishness, analyzed Chloé's vanity, exploited Mylène's weakness… He thought he saw through everyone.
But in the end, he was the most pathetic clown.
He didn't even dare to face his truest desires.
Until Hawk Moth brutally exposed it.
He longed for a sense of belonging.
He didn't want to be a spectator, he didn't want to play a game, he wanted to… live.
Truly, as a flesh-and-blood person with laughter and tears, to live in this world he once disdained but was unknowingly drawn to.
What did he feel the moment Alya snatched the paper from him without hesitation?
What did he feel the moment Marinette caught the Akuma Butterfly in a jar again, looking at him with such worried eyes?
What did that warmth feel like when he was surrounded by all his classmates, all talking at once, caring for him?
That was not a so-called false sense of accomplishment, but a real, genuine sense of human connection.
That feeling was like a handful of charcoal in winter, instantly melting the long-accumulated ice in his heart called "loneliness."
And it was precisely because of this sudden warmth that Hawk Moth's seductive promise— "Let this world truly revolve around you"—seemed so empty and cheap.
He didn't need the world to revolve around him.
He just… wanted to be a part of the world's rotation.
Jaden slowly sat up from the bed, walked to the window, and pushed it open.
The cold, rain-laden air rushed in, clearing his muddled mind considerably.
He looked at the Parisian night view outside the window, rendered like an Impressionist painting by the rain and neon lights.
Those twinkling lights were no longer cold data and background boards; behind them were vibrant, living people.
His.
His classmates.
His future… friends? Family? Lover?
"Blend in…" he murmured to himself.
This thought, before today, he had never seriously considered.
But now, it became the strongest, clearest desire in his heart.
Perhaps, conquering them shouldn't be to satisfy his desire for conquest.
Instead, it should be to fill the huge void deep within his soul by building true, profound connections with them.
To enrich his pale life with their joys, sorrows, and anger.
To give meaning to his existence in this world by protecting their smiles.
Yes, this was… the correct way to play.
No, this wasn't playing.
This was… living.
Realizing this, Jaden felt the heavy, invisible shackles in his heart seem to snap with a "click."
He let out a long, deep sigh, as if expelling all the long-accumulated dust from another world that had gathered in his body.
His eyes underwent a subtle change at this moment.
That detached, aloof languor quietly faded, replaced by an unprecedented, gentle yet firm light.
He was no longer the observer hiding in the corner.
From this night on, he would become the protagonist of the story.
This rainy night was destined to be sleepless for many in Paris.
In Juleka's room, the Gothic decorations appeared mysterious and serene in the dim light.
She didn't listen to her brother Luka's music as usual, but sat quietly at her desk, holding the drawing that Jaden had modified.
She gazed entranced at the butterfly created by a "mistake" and a gentle gesture.
Jaden's words from that time still echoed in her ears repeatedly.
"The opposite of perfect is 'complete'."
This sentence was like a bolt of lightning, splitting the long-standing cloud of "inferiority" that had shrouded her heart.
She always felt she wasn't good enough, didn't fit in, felt she was an anomaly, an "imperfect" existence.
But Jaden told her that it was precisely these "imperfections" that made her unique.
He… understood her.
He didn't, like others, only see her Gothic appearance and taciturn personality.
He saw deep within her, that artistic sensitivity and demanding pursuit of perfection.
More importantly, he didn't deny her, but accepted her, and in a way she never dreamed of, elevated her "flaws."
This feeling of being understood and affirmed from the depths of her soul was unprecedented for Juleka, who had always lived in her own small world.
She reached out a finger, gently and carefully tracing the wing veins of the butterfly in the drawing.
The corners of her mouth unconsciously curved into a genuine smile that even she didn't notice.
At this moment, Jaden's figure was no longer just a reliable classmate.
He was like a mysterious magician who could see through people's hearts, a beam of light that illuminated her gray world.
On the other side, Chloé was in her extravagantly large bedroom, which resembled a luxury boutique, watching Alya's now completely viral blog video over and over again.
The video's comment section had long been overrun.
"Hahahahaha! Hawk Moth is already a contender for this year's best comedian!"
"Miraculous Queen is awesome! The first to reverse-PUA a villain!"
"That invincible warlord is too funny, actually trying to use strength to get a girl…"
"Who is that boy who voiced Hawk Moth? His voice is too charming! Debut him!"
"I prefer the drawing scene at the end! That black-haired boy is so gentle! You can tell he's a master at a glance!"
In the comments section, most were mocking Hawk Moth and praising the students' intelligence.
Chloé was already used to these; she precisely dragged the video progress bar to the part where she "voiced"… I shall bestow upon you all-commanding beauty and power! You shall become a true, undisputed Queen!
Listening to the voice coming from her phone, which had become even more authoritative and seductive after Jaden's dubbing, a complex expression appeared on her face.
She hadn't lied.
Hawk Moth had indeed promised her all of that at the time.
That feeling of being acknowledged and placed on a pedestal was what she had always dreamed of.
But what about after that?
It was Jaden calmly walking over and telling her that he needed official verification from her father.
His request, seemingly ordinary, contained a meaning she had never experienced before.
He wasn't trying to curry favor with her, wasn't afraid of her status, and certainly wasn't using her.
He was… equally, seeking help from an "ally."
He recognized her "ability" (her identity as the mayor's daughter) and believed she could accomplish this task.
This feeling of being treated as a "useful, problem-solving person" was unfamiliar to Chloé, and also… strange.
She recalled Jaden's gaze today, calm and indifferent, without any flattery or fear, as if… she was just Chloé, and not "Chloé, the mayor's daughter."
"Hmph, at least you have some taste." She snorted softly at her phone screen, but the subtle curve of her lips betrayed her current mood.
This transfer student named Jaden was indeed… quite interesting.
Agreste Mansion, this night was exceptionally cold.
Gabriel had already finished watching the video that had gone viral across the internet.
He watched as his own majestically imitated voice on the screen was paired with humorous dialogues.
He watched as his highly anticipated Akuma Butterfly was tossed around like a ball.
He watched the comments section, with messages calling him "clown of the year" and "pathetic villain"…