Chapter Text
"Don't! please don't make the wish!"
"No!"
"Stop! You don't know what you're doing!"
"Tikki! Plagg!"
"Why did you do this!?"
"Pollen!"
"Stop it!!"
"Don't do this!"
"Sorry... But, this wish is mine, and so are the miraculous."
"No!"
"Let her go! please!"
"You killed her!?"
" Chloe!"
"A wish is a rather strange thing; it can gift limitless possibilities and great success... But it can also limit yourself with the words that waver from your lips, it can be your damnation and pain, the reason your very existence is scorned. All because a 'higher being' who wanted ultimate power made a wish that once again made the cogwheels spin."
Chloé jolted awake, gasping for air. Her light blue eyes snapped open, wide and brimming with unshed tears.
A crushing sensation gripped her neck, constricting her throat; a clawed, leather-gloved hand squeezing. It wouldn't release its hold.
It felt impossibly real, as if the delicate structures of her throat were crumbling, the soft tissue and hard bone turning to dust that threatened to choke her with every desperate inhale.
"Ugh, just a stupid dream," Chloé muttered, though her hand remained protectively around her throat. Honestly, the nerve of her subconscious to conjure up something so utterly unpleasant. Tears pricked at her eyes – not from true fear, of course, just the shock of such a disturbing… thing. She swallowed, a slight wince betraying her recently woken up bravado.
She ran a hand over her throat again, a subconscious check, before finally swinging her legs over the side of the bed and smoothing out her terrible case of bed head.
The soft thud of her feet on the expensive carpet was a familiar sound, a stark contrast to the terrifying sensations of her dream. She glanced around her spacious bedroom, the morning light filtering through the delicate satin curtains, a sense of normalcy slowly returning as her heart calmed down.
Honestly, dreams were such a waste of her valuable time.
At least she woke up early?
She had immediately pranced over to her walk-in wardrobe and snatched some clothes that would look good on her for the new school year. A white blouse with flared sleeves and golden embellishments, a mini black pencil skirt, white thigh-high socks, and a pair of thick black pump heels with ankle straps. She had then grabbed her diamond earrings with pearls dangling off them and a gold necklace.
Yes, she looked like she was trying to walk down the runway, her mother was Style Queen for heaven's sake!
She had spent at least half the morning (mind you she still had school) curling her shoulder-length light blonde hair, and placing a black headband to keep her hair out of her face, she then spent a bit longer doing her makeup, light blue glittery eyeshadow, black eyeliner, mascara, light pink lipstick, soft red blush and boom! she was ready.
She felt weird though, like she had done this before?
She shrugged the feeling off. Probably just the excitement for the new school year making her feel a bit déjà vu. Honestly, every day was practically a runway show for Chloé Bourgeois.
With a final check in the mirror, ensuring her headband was perfectly positioned, she grabbed her light-yellow book bag. It wasn't heavy – just the essentials: a magazine to keep her entertained, her always-chic purse, lip gloss, and of course, her signature white sunglasses. A dismissive flick of her hand and she was out the door. Honestly, living anywhere other than the Grand Paris was simply beneath her. Why wouldn't it? Her daddy was the mayor and owner.
Despite her outward confidence, Chloé utterly dreaded going to Françoise Dupont. Yes, it was a stage where she could flaunt her superiority over the 'unsufferable scum' that attended. But more importantly, her Adrikins, her cherished childhood friend, would be joining their class. Thanks to her 'favoured' status with the spineless principal, Chloé had curated the class list herself, or rather, Adrien had gone through it and made his selections. It was odd, considering Adrien knew none of these students. Sure, Chloé had discreetly compiled 'background checks' for him, but those only contained basic information like their interests and ages.
He chose well most of the students she had, had in her classes for the last four years! God not another year with those annoying prats!! Adrikins only asked for a simple list, so she gave it to him! He even chose what teacher he wanted!
Ms. Bustier... God Chloé utterly despised that woman, sure Chloe's behaviour was bad but the woman who is supposed to stop her, actually enables her behaviour? (Yes, Chloé is in fact self-aware that she is a bully.)
Chloé was brought out of her thoughts as she stood in front of her limo, but not before eyeing a kneeling man on the ground, cane on the side with no one helping him.
Chloé bit back a scoff, do people have to be so useless as to not help someone in need? (She was a bit confused at her thought, why would she ever think of helping someone?) Without even thinking, Chloé's body had moved on its own and the next thing she knew she had reached down for the cane, handed it to the man as she helped him up, then sniffed (haughtily) and walked back to her limousine.
And as she was in the limo, she looked back to where the man had been, where the man stood, glancing at the limo, almost exactly eye-to-eye with Chloe, a rather strange smile on the man's lips. A shiver that had nothing to do with the morning chill traced its way down Chloé's spine. That smile... it wasn't grateful, it was knowing, almost amused. She frowned, trying to place the man, but his face was utterly unfamiliar. What was that all about? Dismissing it as just another weird Parisian.
Honestly, the audacity of some people, just staring! Chloé huffed, sliding into the leather seats. Probably just some admirer, though he was far too old and… ordinary for her taste. Still, that smile lingered in her mind, a strange little puzzle she couldn't quite place before her usual disdainful thoughts took over.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, Chloé couldn't shake the feeling that this brief interaction was more significant than it appeared. The man's eyes, meeting hers with that knowing glint, felt like a silent prelude to something… strange.
"The raw untapped energy radiating from that child is dangerous."
"It's destruction, it wreaks havoc and chaos, blood and pain, anguish and sorrow."
"It was an aura of black, an obsidian abyss."
"She's perfect."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't want you to make the same mistake... twice."
"..."
"Call it a... Redemption of sorts."
Chloe pursed her lips as she fumbled on her phone, her limo had dropped her off at Francoise Dupont and she was already walking the halls to the classroom she had been stuck in for four whole damn school years.
There was that strange feeling again, a faint echo of familiarity as she walked these well-worn corridors. It was unsettling, like a scene she'd played out countless times before, yet something felt subtly different today. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. So, she shoved the feeling down and navigated the crowded hallway, her nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of the other students. Honestly, the lack of style was appalling. They were probably all gawking at her, though. As they should. She was the epitome of chic.
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Soon, she'd see Adrikins. She just hoped he appreciated the effort she'd gone to in ensuring his transition to this… establishment was as smooth as possible (for him, anyway). She tightened her grip on her book bag, the thought of his handsome face with his messy blonde hair and shimmering grass green eyes was enough to momentarily eclipsing the lingering oddness of the man with the cane.
Before she could reach the familiar door of Ms. Bustier's classroom, a flash of bright light pink, black and white caught her eye. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, no doubt causing some sort of clumsy commotion. Chloé rolled her eyes. Honestly, that girl was a walking disaster.
Chloe was actually surprised Dupain-Cheng was early for once.
Maybe the sky really was falling. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, punctual? It was an anomaly on par with Sabrina suddenly developing a backbone. Chloé narrowed her eyes slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing her face. What was the clumsy baker girl up to? A smirk then played on Chloé's lips. "Well, well, Dupain-Cheng," she drawled, approaching the black-haired beauty that totally didn't make her heart stutter when blue bell eyes glanced into her own light blue ones. Nope not at all. "Fancy seeing you here before the bell. Did you actually set your alarm correctly for once?"
Rolling her eyes, Marinette retorted, "Unlike some of us, Chloé, I don't rely on Daddy's chauffeur to get me everywhere. Sometimes, that means setting my own alarm and, surprisingly, it works." She gave Chloé a pointed look before turning her attention back to the classroom door.
Chloe huffed, "You're in my seat, Dupain-Cheng." She mockingly emphasised the girl's last name.
Marinette smiled faintly, not moving from her seat. "Is it, now? I seem to recall a lot of empty seats, Chloé. Perhaps you'd prefer the one right at the front on the right?"
Chloe rolled her eyes; mood slightly soured at the interaction as more students began walking in.
Nino Lahiffe, the music-obsessed moronic boy who has a small crush on Dupain-Cheng. (A small part of her wanted to throttle Lahiffe for that fact.)
Ivan Bruel, rockstar that is actually a gentle giant with a crush on Mylène Haprèle, who wishes to be an actress and major charity thing person, whatever.
Nathaniel Kurtzburg, artist extrodinnaire. Rose Lavillant, the pink-obsessed girl that loves throwing toxic positivity down others' throats, Juleka Couffaine, goth of purple goths. A fashion style that makes Chloe's knees waver in horror.
Max Kanté, tech nerd for... Blegh, Lê Chiến Kim, a sport crazy swimmer weirdo. Alix Kubdel, total hot-headed brat with a passion for skating.
Sabrina Raincomprix, Chloé's loyal servant and right-hand lady!
Even some new girl she didn't know well, although she had a journalist flair soo~
Honestly, the sheer averageness of these people was enough to make her designer heels ache. Nino's incessant headphone wearing, Ivan's lumbering gait, Rose's saccharine smile – it was all so… pedestrian. Even the new girl, with her vaguely inquisitive air, was hardly worth a second glance. Only the thought of Adrien's imminent arrival kept Chloé from staging a dramatic exit.
Nino immediately gravitated towards Marinette, offering a goofy grin that Chloé found utterly nauseating. Ivan nodded shyly at Mylène, who beamed back with an enthusiasm that Chloé deemed excessive. Honestly, the blatant displays of affection in this classroom were enough to curdle her perfectly applied lip gloss.
Of course, Marinette was now surrounded by her usual gaggle of admirers. Nino was probably asking her about some band, while Rose was likely showering her with compliments. Chloé rolled her eyes again. Honestly, what did these people see in Dupain-Cheng? (Well Chloé won't lie, she does in fact know what these people see in Dupain-Cheng, she just refuses to acknowledge it.)
Despite her outward disdain, a tiny, almost imperceptible part of Chloé felt a strange disconnect as she watched these interactions. They all seemed to have their little niches, their unspoken connections. Even Juleka, with her perpetually gloomy aura, had Rose glued to her side. Chloé smoothed down her skirt, a familiar feeling of… something she couldn't quite name stirring within her.
Sabrina had scampered to her side like a loyal dog.
"Chloé! You look absolutely stunning today!" Sabrina chirped, her eyes wide with admiration as she adjusted the strap of her own slightly mismatched backpack. "Did you get a new headband? It's so... chic!"
Chloé smiled prettily, indulging her 'friend.' "Yes, I did get a new headband, how keen of you to notice."
Sabrina's face lit up. "Oh, I knew it! It perfectly complements your earrings. You always have the best taste, Chloé." She puffed out her chest slightly, basking in the reflected glory of Chloé's compliment. Sabrina then added quickly. "Is there anything else you've changed? Your lipstick looks a little different too, and it's just so perfect!"
Chloé preened, "It's really lovely," Sabrina agreed, glancing down at her own less-than-fashionable outfit. "Maybe I should try wearing headbands more often." She had whispered softly, but since Chloé was right next to her, she had heard it.
"Well, of course it's lovely, you wouldn't shine without me~!" Chloé snickered, she knew very well that Sabrina was what one would call a people pleaser, a doormat that lets people step all over her.
"That's right, Chloé! You always know best. I'm happy to help in any way I can," Sabrina said with a bright smile, completely missing the underlying jab.
The new girl had narrowed her eyes at Chloé but turned her head with a huff.
Chloé simply scoffed, turning her own attention away from the 'nobody.' Honestly, some people had absolutely no sense of decorum. Clearly, the new girl hadn't grasped the social hierarchy of this school yet. She'd learn.
Ms. Bustier walked in the room with a smile, at that Chloé frowned.
Adrikins still hasn't arrived, she had sent him text after text and yet no response.
Honestly, the audacity of Adrien to be late on this day. Didn't he realize she had practically orchestrated this whole thing for him? Ms. Bustier could wait. The entire class could wait. Adrien's punctuality was the priority here.
Chloé huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Honestly, Ms. Bustier's perpetually cheerful demeanour was grating on her nerves, especially when Adrien was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? He knew how important this was to her. A knot of anxiety suddenly tightened in Chloé's stomach, though she masked it with a scowl. Why wasn't Adrien answering? Had something happened? The thought, however fleeting, was genuinely unsettling. She needed to know he was alright.
The class went off without a hitch, Ms. Bustier telling students where to sit which had elicited groans from annoyed students.
It was during lunch break did things start getting bad, Juleka had been pushed into a puddle of water from the cleaner's buckets. Mind you Chloé didn't play a part in the matter, she was too busy filing her nails when the tall, lanky black-haired girl had rushed past covering her face. Marinette, who had been chatting with the new girl, Alya nearby, gasped and immediately rushed towards the direction Juleka had gone. Chloé watched the display with a cynical eye. Always the hero, that Dupain-Cheng.
Ugh, why am I even considering this? Chloé internally groaned, her fingers still absently filing her nails. Yet, the image of Juleka's distress tugged at something unfamiliar within her. It was like a glitch in her programming, a sudden urge to… well, not be entirely awful. She lowered her nail file slightly, her gaze flicking towards the door Juleka had rushed through. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips. Helping people was… messy. And beneath her. But that feeling… it was insistent.
Sabrina was looking worried. (Chloé didn't like seeing her servant only friend look so worried at all.)
So, Chloé let-
Before she could fully process the thought, her legs had already started to move. It was a bizarre sensation, her body acting on an instinct her mind hadn't yet caught up with. She found herself glancing in the direction Juleka had disappeared, a frown creasing her brow.
Seems Juleka had ran off to the bathroom?
She had soon met Marinette Dupain-Cheng face-to-face in all her beautiful glory looking utterly horrified, Chloé was confused before she looked behind Marinette and froze, eyes wide with horror at the dark purple bubbling pool on the bathroom floor. The air in the small bathroom seemed to crackle with an unseen energy. This wasn't just a spill. The way it bubbled, the unnatural colour… a shiver ran down Chloé's spine, a primal instinct screaming that this was far beyond a simple accident.
The sight stole the breath from Chloé's lungs. That viscous, dark purple liquid… it looked almost alive, bubbling ominously on the pristine bathroom tiles. Her earlier, nascent impulse to help Juleka vanished, replaced by a cold knot of fear. What in the world was that?
"Oh, what happened?" Sabrina gasped, peering over Chloé's shoulder, her usual cheerful demeanour replaced by a look of genuine alarm. "Is that… ink?" But even Sabrina's naive question sounded unconvincing in the face of that unsettling purple ooze.
"I... I don't think that's ink..." Chloé shakily responded, noting the remnants of black hair scattered in the goo, almost like someone was melted alive...
Marinette's bottom lip trembled, eyes wide and teary, "She... I- Juleka... Voices..." She whispered numbly, stumbling over words.
"Voices? What voices, Dupain-Cheng?" Chloé asked, her own voice barely above a whisper. Marinette's incoherent words only amplified the unsettling nature of the scene. What had happened to Juleka? And what did voices have to do with it? Sabrina frowned.
"I- I don't... She, was- was crying and, I went to comfort her... hrk-!" Marinette gagged, Chloé's initial shock began to give way to a flicker of… something akin to concern for Marinette. The baker girl looked genuinely ill, clutching her stomach as if she might be sick. "Hey! Dupain-Cheng, breathe. What did you see?" Chloé's voice, though still commanding, held a sliver of urgency and though she wished it wasn't there, fear and worry for the baker girl as well.
"Oh, Marinette!" Sabrina cried, stepping forward hesitantly. "Are you alright? What happened to Juleka?" She looked from Marinette's distraught face to the bubbling purple goo with wide, frightened eyes. "We need to get help!"
Chloé lowered her gaze, "Sabrina, take Dupain-Cheng home, you know where the bakery is right?"
"Home? But... Chloé..." Sabrina began, looking just as taken aback by the suggestion as Marinette. She glanced at the horrifying scene and then back at Chloé, clearly unsure of what to do. Chloé's eyes gave Sabrina everything the girl needed to hear in that moment. "Of course, Chloé! Come on, Marinette," Sabrina said quickly, already gently guiding a still-trembling Marinette.
Marinette looked at Chloé, her tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. "Y-you... you want me to go home?"
Chloé pursed her lips, wiped at her own unshed tears and nodded. "You're scared; you need to go home."
Marinette shakily nodded, she had witnessed something far too grotesque for a fifteen-year-old girl to ever witness. Chloé let out a sigh when she saw they were no longer in the bathroom and dialed the police. She knew how to handle situations like this – be clear, be concise, and leverage her family's influence when necessary. The police said they were on their way and hung up.
For a moment, Chloé just stared at the closed bathroom door, a wave of unease washing over her. Juleka… gone? The quiet goth girl? It was surreal.
Even though she hadn't done anything, a sliver of unease wormed its way into Chloé's thoughts.
Where did Juleka go? was that purple gooey puddle Juleka? Chloé felt sick at the thought.
A wave of nausea rolled through Chloé, the image of Juleka's retreating figure flashing in her mind, now overlaid with the grotesque image of the bubbling purple goo and those strands of black hair. Could that… could that actually be Juleka? The thought was so repulsive, so utterly wrong, that her stomach clenched. She had to push that image away.
But...
No. No way. That couldn't be Juleka. It was some kind of… chemical spill? A prank gone horribly wrong? Anything but that. The idea of a person dissolving like that was insane. Utterly, terrifyingly insane.
Juleka… gone. Dissolved? The questions swirled in Chloé's mind, unanswered and deeply disturbing. What had happened? What kind of monster could do something like that? And why Juleka? The lack of answers only fuelled the sickening unease that clung to her like a shroud. Juleka didn't deserve that...
The word 'murder' hung heavy in the air, a chilling pronouncement that sent students scurrying home early, eyes wide with whispered fear.
The image of the bubbling purple pool, with those tell-tale strands of black, kept flashing behind Chloé's eyelids. Each time, the dizziness intensified, a physical manifestation of the sheer wrongness she had witnessed. Murder. At their school. The word felt heavy and cold, a stark contrast to the usual petty dramas of Françoise Dupont. (Well, she hadn't witnessed it, Dupain-Cheng had.)
Alas even the familiar opulence of her room at the Grand Paris couldn't offer solace. The plush velvet, the glittering chandeliers – everything seemed tainted by the grotesque scene in the bathroom. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that unnatural purple, that horrifying implication. Sleep felt impossible. For the first time, Chloé's own petty grievances and superficial concerns felt utterly meaningless. The horror Dupain-Cheng had witnessed had stripped away the veneer of Chloé usual self-absorption, leaving behind a raw, unsettling fear.
But the night held another, even more disturbing revelation. Hours later, the police confirmed what seemed impossible: Juleka Couffaine was still alive. She had been found, not dissolved, but cocooned in a velvety, black, gooey substance, hidden beneath the Pont des Arts—La Seine's famous "love lock" bridge. It was a bizarre, horrifying sight: the cocoon itself was pulsing, a vibrant, dark purple, and so dangerous that police had warned away onlookers, its acidic properties threatening anyone who dared to touch it. The horror was no longer confined to Chloé's imagination; it was tangibly real, and far more twisted than she could have ever conceived.
Of course, no one in Paris had noticed yet, but the truth was far more terrifying than a single mysterious incident. They were trapped. Their world, their beloved city, was encased. A shimmering dome of faux sky, imperceptible to the unaware, had covered them, sealing them off from everything beyond its shimmering, invisible surface. Paris, without realizing it, had become a prison.