The theater was packed.
Gold balconies, velvet seats, restless murmurs beneath the glittering chandelier. Spotlights sliced the darkness. Marinette stood backstage, headset on, clipboard clutched in white-knuckled fists. She was the eye of a hurricane in black leggings and stress.
"Cues are locked," she told herself. "Everyone's mic'd. This is fine."
Out front, Adrien sat in the third row, somewhere between stiff and sick to his stomach. The auditorium lights cast Luka in a soft glow as he sat on a stool, center stage, guitar on his knee like it belonged there.
Then—
He played.
The song was gentle at first. Not a confession, not a plea. A memory. A heartbeat wrapped in melody.
And then the lyrics hit.
"You smiled like a sunbeam in the dark,I never knew how to hold that kind of light."
Adrien stared.
Everyone else faded.
It wasn't subtle. It wasn't vague. The song bared Luka's heart completely. Notes like fingertips brushing skin. Words like stolen glances. It was Adrien. It always had been.
Backstage, Marinette watched too. She knew the feeling of putting your whole soul into something for someone who might never see you back.
But Adrien saw it now.
Inside, the final act was about to begin.
Marc was in the wings, silent, trembling. He had heard the song too.
He knew who it was for.
He knew who Luka hadn't looked at, even once.
He wasn't angry. He was erased.
That was when it happened — a whisper in his mind. Cold. Familiar.
"They never see you, do they, Marc? Let me help you show them…"
A crack of violet light split the air.
Screams erupted from the theater as Refracteur took form — an akuma of mirrors and misdirection. His cloak shimmered like broken glass, his eyes wild and hollow.
"Let's see how they like living in someone else's shadow," he hissed.
Luka shielded his guitar. Adrien froze. Marinette reached for her earrings.
And cheating unfolded.
Amid the panic, Adrien ducked behind a curtain.
Plagg popped out of his jacket, already groaning.
"Really? Right before your big duet scene?"
"No choice," Adrien whispered. "He's going to hurt someone."
One transformation swirl later — Chat Noir leapt into battle.
On the other side of the stage, Marinette was already out of sight. Ladybug somersaulted in from above, landing hard beside Chat, yoyo spinning.
"I got your call," she said. "Let's shut him down."
They fought like they always did — back to back, a symphony of instinct and trust.
But something was off. Chat kept glancing toward Luka, who had been thrown into the pit below. His focus frayed. His guard slipped.
And when Refracteur hurled a spear of glass right toward Luka — Chat dove without thinking.
It hit.
He cried out — in real pain — and hit the floor hard.
Ladybug's heart stopped.
"CHAT!"
She flew to him, caught his hand.
He smiled, even through the pain. "He's okay."
"You idiot," she whispered. Her hands trembled against his chest, where the wound glowed. Not fatal. But deep.
He looked up at her — dazed, feverish — and whispered, "You always… look at me like that like Marin—"
Her hand snapped over his mouth.
Eyes wide. Everything froze.
He blinked up at her. Realization fighting confusion.
"I—wait....WHA—"
She backed away, shaking, mask cracking in more ways than one.
Refracteur was closing in on Luka again.
Ladybug rose, angry now. Her yoyo spun faster than sound. She launched forward, sweeping the akuma's weapon away, flipping above his head and slamming down with all her weight.
"Lucky Charm!"
A mirror shard fell into her hand.
She blinked once. Understood.Used it to bounce the akuma's own blast back at him.
Marc collapsed into a sobbing heap as the dark magic fled his body.
The akuma fluttered up — caught — crushed — gone.
But the crowd outside hadn't stopped panicking.
Paramedics were coming.
Chat was still on the floor, half-conscious. Luka sat beside him, blood on his hands from where he'd tried to stop the bleeding.
Ladybug stood across from them both — Her mask was on, but her soul exposed.
Everything had changed.