Chapter Text
Even though he got enough sleep the previous night, Adrien still felt groggy marching into the classroom. The first sight that met him was a strange drawing on the board: a vertical rectangle shape, spanning nearly the whole height of the space, enclosing a fleur-de-lis in its center. He didn’t think twice about it until he noticed the dark atmosphere emanating from his classmates—groups were huddled together in hushed whispers and cautious looks at the symbol.
He spotted Nino talking to Alya on the side, holding her by the shoulders. Not wanting to disturb the couple, Adrien opted to approach the quiet girl hunched over her sketchbook behind his seat.
“Hey Marinette.” He flashed her a small smile, “What’s going on?”
When she looked up from her design, Adrien saw her tired eyes, no doubt fueled from coffee. “The drawing on the board?” she yawned.
He nodded. “That’s the student council symbol,” she replied nonchalantly, going back to her pencil strokes.
Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed. “Student council? We have a student council?”
Marinette shrugged. “Yeah, of course we do.”
“I don’t get it.” He paused and looked around. Ivan was holding Mylene close; Alix had a frown etched on her face; and Kim was talking to the group with a lot of hand gestures. “Why is everyone on edge?”
“Right . . . you’re new so you don’t know about it.” Marinette motioned for him to take a seat, which he did. Adrien leaned in to listen closely.
“The student council is feared in Françoise Dupont. They pull a lot of strings around here,” she began, “Nobody actually knows who they are.”
An unknown student council. That sent everyone into a grim mood this morning, Adrien mused. “How can they be a student council if nobody knows who they are?” he questioned.
“That’s just how it works.” She stated it as if it was the simplest fact. “They work in the shadows, but they can make something happen if they want to.”
Confusion flooded Adrien’s mind. “And nobody has ever figured them out? That many people—”
“They’re not ‘many people’,” Marinette waved the thought off, “From past experience, people think there's only four of them: the president, the vice president, the secretary and the treasurer. We— the class representatives—don’t really count.”
“Only four?”
“Dunno. That’s just what people accept.”
“I still don’t understand,” Adrien breathed out, “How can they become such a big deal?”
“They go way back,” she explained, “Every time something disturbs the balance in this school, they take action to remove it right away.” She sneaked a glance towards Lila but Adrien didn’t miss the implication.
Marinette spun her pencil to erase a part of her sketch. “There’s a lot of speculation about the council being powerful people, or coming from powerful families. That’s why they can bend anyone to their will.”
Adrien took a second to look around the room. All his classmates, in their own right, came from respectable families. Not to mention, the other students in other classes. That meant the council members could be anyone.
“What about the drawing? What does it mean?” He asked.
“Again, nobody really knows.” Marinette yawned again. “Maybe they just want to make themselves known. Or something big’s happening soon. Or they’re making a threat.”
The symbol was ominous, Adrien admitted. The absence of knowledge about it, and the heaviness it carried, gave a sense of eeriness. He felt a shudder creep up his spine. It was slowly becoming clearer why the class had turned on its head.
Then, he stared at the girl in front of him. It was also strange how she was unfazed about the situation. Months ago, she habitually stuttered in his presence, barely mustering a sentence. Weeks ago, she had managed to ask him about mundane topics—their homework, the next class, their test scores. Nowadays, she just seemed exhausted all the time. Gradually, not overnight, it happened: his view of Marinette changed.
“What about you?” He spoke carefully. “Why aren’t you bothered by it?”
“I don’t really care. You only need to be bothered if you’ve done something wrong. And I,” she looked up at him, eyes cold and fierce for just a split second, “haven’t done anything wrong.”
Adrien shifted in his seat uneasily, uncertain if the microexpression had been real. He was about to offer his words—of comfort, of agreement, of confusion, anything—when Alya and Nino returned from their private conversation and slid back to their seats.
“This is unbelievable!” Alya threw her arms up, “Royals? The student council? It all sounds pretty oppressive to me.”
Nino had a panicked look on his face when she earned a few looks from their classmates. He put a finger up to his lips, “Als, not so loud!”
“Why?” Alya raised an eyebrow.
“They can be anyone! They can hear you,” Nino pursed his lips and fidgeted.
“So what if they do?” Alya said it so indignantly that Adrien winced. “That’s just—ruling the school? That’s abuse of power.”
Nino grimaced. Adrien felt the nerves spilling from his best friend. “They’re not . . . abusing . . . per se.” He sighed, “They get rid of the bad guys, that’s all.”
“Get rid of the bad guys?” Alya scoffed. “That’s Ladybug and Chat Noir’s job.”
Adrien glanced downward at the mention of his alter ego. Even if that’s the case, he thought miserably, there are a lot of problems they can’t solve.
“This—this is different!” Nino protested, “It’s not a joke—if the council comes for you, you’re dead meat. No one can do anything about it. No one.”
The tinge of fear in his voice and how his eyes widened a fraction made Adrien wonder if Nino had witnessed it before. After all, Adrien and Alya were the new students, and Nino and Marinette had seen more of Dupont’s history.
Alya didn’t back down. “Tell me one time they did,” she challenged.
Adrien practically saw the spotlight shine above Nino as Alya pierced him with her burning gaze. “I—I, um,” Nino swallowed, “I can’t think of anything right now but I swear they’ve done a lot of stuff.”
“Monsieur Blanchett.” Marinette piped up suddenly, eyes still glued to her sketchbook.
“Monsieur Blanchett, of course!” Nino breathed out deeply, “He was a teacher here before—a new one. And he was really bad. Rarely showed up for classes. Gave petty punishments. If you annoyed him, you failed. But one day he was suddenly gone. We never heard back from the dude ever again.”
Alya snorted. “Bull. Principal Damocles could’ve just fired him.”
“No,” Nino said quietly, “Principal Damocles is their puppet. The council fired him.”
In a way, Adrien understood Alya’s reactions. It sounded preposterous—fictional, even–but the atmosphere told him it wasn’t. “That’s crazy,” Alya responded, “They sound like manipulators. Why not just get everyone to stand up to them? Or look for them?”
Nino stammered out his rebuttal but couldn’t voice out his thoughts properly.
Alya continued, “Yeah, you know what? That might be a good idea. I’m going to look for the people in this council, whoever they might be.”
“Not a good idea, not a good idea!” Nino was shaking. “Please don’t try to find out, you’ll make them angry—”
“—I’m not afraid—”
“—You haven’t seen what they do, they can ruin your future—”
“—They should come out themselves,” Alya huffed out, crossing her arms, “Cowards.”
Nino looked to the side to silently plead to Adrien for help. Adrien could only smile apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m still kind of confused right now.”
“Look at Marinette,” Alya pointed at their friend, “Why isn’t she panicking?”
“Because Mari never panics about this stuff!” Nino exclaimed, “But the whole council thing is real, okay?”
As Alya spouted out more of her virtuous speeches and stance against ‘abuse’, and Marinette scribbled away in her own tiny bubble, and Adrien expressed his puzzlement in changing degrees, Nino put his head in his hands and groaned. “My best friend is confused, my girlfriend is insane and her friend doesn’t care. We’re all doomed.”