Chapter Text
The broom closet smelled of dust and floor cleaner. Lila leaned back, pressed against the wall, knees to chest, and tried not to breathe too loud.
Adrien crouched near the door, hands tense, eyes flicking between the narrow gap and the hallway. “Stay here. Count to thirty. Don’t peek.” His voice was calm, almost patient—but there was a sharpness under it, like the Cat Noir she vaguely remembered from rumors.
She studied him. The way his jaw clenched, the way his hand twitched as if ready to strike—or comfort. He was Adrien, the polite, golden-haired boy she’d just survived lunch with… and Cat Noir, the predator-light hero she’d read about in horror stories. Both were him. Both dangerous. Both… magnetic.
“I’ll be back,” he said suddenly, standing. “Don’t move. Don’t open the door. Got it?”
Lila nodded automatically. He hesitated, glanced down at her, then forced a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Trust me.” And he was gone.
Silence pressed down. She could hear it first as a tremor—a low hum of panic, the sound of footsteps running, doors slamming. Then came the screaming. A scream so sharp it clawed her brain.
A child’s voice. Followed by crashing. Shouts. More screams. And then… the unmistakable, horrifying sound of people dying. Not metaphorically, not figuratively. The sharp, wet, final end of a human body giving up.
Lila’s stomach lurched. Her chest tightened. Her memories of hospitals, of slipping away while her parents cried, pressed back through her skull. She gasped for air. She’d survived Mr. Pigeon, she’d survived a random traffic accident, and she had thought that was bad. Nothing had prepared her for this.
The news came in fragments through the chaos. Someone called the girl “Patieon Zero.” A little girl akumatized, angry, terrified of doctors. Hospitals collapsing. People trapped. Anyone in a uniform—a nurse, a medic, a doctor—hunted. Ladybug and Cat Noir would stop her eventually. But until then…
She stayed crouched, trembling, and realized something had changed. Old rules wouldn’t save her. They hadn’t for Mr. Pigeon, and they definitely wouldn’t for Patieon Zero.
New rules:
- Don’t blindly obey anyone—even the golden-haired boy you think you trust.
- Fear is useful. Don’t ignore it.
- Observe first, move second.
- Survival sometimes means watching people die.
She repeated them quietly, a whisper to herself. Memorized them. Because no one else would tell her. Not Adrien, not Ladybug, not the world outside the closet. She had to live. And she had to learn how to do it without dying again.
The screaming outside escalated. It was chaotic, sharp, panicked—but oddly measured in rhythm, like the city itself had been struck by some invisible metronome of terror. Lila pressed herself harder against the wall, trying not to breathe too loud, her ears straining to catch the smaller cues: the snap of a door, the scuff of someone running, a muffled scream cut short.
The little girl—the akuma, Patient Zero—was wreaking havoc. Hospitals collapsing under her fear-fueled power. People trapped. People dying. Lila’s stomach churned at the reality: these weren’t faceless NPCs in a game. They were real. And they remembered it, even when Ladybug restored them.
She heard a low, taunting laugh. Not playful—it had precision, control, the same sharpness she had glimpsed in Adrien’s hands before he left. A shadow flickered outside the closet window. Cat Noir. Adrien. The line between them blurred. She couldn’t tell where the polite, golden-haired boy ended and the hero began.
And then, silence.
The world outside was still, but for the whimpers, cries, and shuffling of shocked civilians. Lila waited, breath shallow, counting her new rules in her head like a mantra. Observe first. Move second. Don’t blindly obey anyone. Fear is useful.
Minutes stretched. Then a thud at the closet door.
“Hey! You in there?”
Lila froze. Nino’s voice. Concerned, urgent.
She peeked through the gap just enough to see his familiar face. His eyes scanned the room as if looking for someone who wasn’t supposed to be missing. “Adrien? Where is he?”
Lila’s throat tightened. Her mind raced. Rule one: survive. Rule two: stay unnoticed. Rule three: don’t get anyone hurt because of you.
“Uh… he… he went ahead. Said to stay put,” Lila said quickly, voice steady even though her heart was hammering. She could see Nino narrowing his eyes, suspicion knitting his forehead.
“Are you sure? He ran off after that girl. He—”
“Yeah! Totally sure,” Lila interrupted, cutting off his sentence. She swallowed hard, masking the flutter of panic in her chest. “He said he’d catch her. I—just stayed.”
Nino hesitated. He clearly wanted to argue, to demand more, but something in Lila’s posture—curled tight, wide-eyed, tense—made him pause. “Alright… well, good. You did the right thing staying put.” He glanced around. “Stay here, I’ll… check things out.”
And just like that, Nino’s gaze drifted upward. Adrien came running down the street, boots skidding across the pavement, hair messy, eyes scanning for danger. Lila exhaled, silent, relieved, and simultaneously terrified. She had just become an unwitting protector of his secret—again.
The aftermath was… surreal. Civilians staggered into the streets, some crying, some vomiting, some shaking but refusing to speak. Some laughed nervously, masking terror with absurdity. They died. They came back. And they won’t admit it.
Lila’s chest tightened as she observed it all. The veneer of normalcy was shredded, but no one wanted to admit the ragged edges. Parents cradling children, workers gripping each other, everyone pretending the city hadn’t almost been lost in seconds.
Her stomach dropped as she realized: the timeline wasn’t just off. It never existed the way she remembered. There had never been a “Patient Zero,” never been a neat timeline where she could stay invisible and safe.
Every moment forward would be a shift. Every choice mattered. And she could no longer trust her old rules.
Rule revisions, set in iron:
- Observe first, move second.
- Survival sometimes means watching people die.
- Fear is information, not weakness.
- Don’t blindly obey anyone, no matter how trustworthy they seem.
She repeated them quietly to herself, whispering into the dust-scented closet. She had to live. She had to adapt. She had to become something new, something prepared.
Adrien finally looked at her, eyes softening for a brief second, unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. Lila nodded subtly, letting him take the lead. She was learning, fast.
And Paris had just reminded her, in the most brutal way possible: there was no going back.