AN: Okay, the original plan for this was for the rivalry to be more heated and for hate kissing/sex to happen, but they're too sweet and innocent, so that's been abandoned. Papillon's not some evil creature, though, as some people seem to think: they're doing what they were programmed to do, and have no sense of right and wrong. They're supposed to be a somewhat likeable character (but I failed there, my bad). Teasers of new chapters and upcoming stories can be found on my tumblr (xiueryn), and a link to my art blog which has accompanying art to this story.

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc

The groups were assigned Caline.

As she was an accomplished singer, one that had held number ones and received awards for over a decade, the red-haired female was able to act as a mentor well. She introduced herself to everyone with bright smiles, assigning each of the different groups a time to get to know her throughout the day. They were assigned separate rooms to practice in—so there would be no conflict between those that didn't know each other—and professional coaches were set to come in throughout the weeks, to help and guide them to achieve their best.

It turned out that one of the things Marinette was missing, and had stubbornly ignored, was dancing. Caline was a firm believer that any singer, even soloists, that stood still on a stage looked dreadfully boring. She was an artist filled with enthusiasm and a confident voice, one that she'd trained to be able to dance and sing to an above-average level.

A lot of them were just starting out. Each group received a choreographer to help them in their practice rooms, and they were set to be there for the full durations they'd be on the live shows for. Even if they were to perform a ballad, there had to be some form of dancing due to Caline's insistence.

What was worse than warming up and dancing between the other three females she'd been paired with, even more embarrassing than being sweaty with her clothes sticking to her skin, was the fact that cameras were installed in almost every room in the building (the cleaning supply closet being the exception, along with the bathrooms).

As they were allowed in the practice rooms throughout the day, given access codes to enter the building at all, it was their own responsibility to travel to and from the dorms, which was only a few minutes walk. It was advised for them to alert security if strangers were crowding the gates, or if they spotted suspicious activity.

Their coaches, and even Caline, all agreed that Marinette was the best vocalist of her group. The downside, however, was that she was absolutely awful at dancing. She felt clumsy and uncoordinated, and Papillon could do nothing to soothe her troubles. The Kwami was only capable of locking her limbs in place, which had no place in her attempts to dance.

They were able to whisper advice in her head, though.

"Miss Cheng, I have explained how to do this particular movement three times," Papillon drawled, in their ever-bored tone. "Are you certain you require another?"

She looked in the mirror in front of her and nodded. With the cameras, and she assumed microphones, too, it wasn't safe to talk to them aloud. She settled with awkwardly resisting the sarcastic comments, venting her frustrations when her room-mate had disappeared to socialise with others. As nice as Lila had turned out to be, she didn't want the tanned female to suddenly hear her talking to herself and assume the worse.

The theme for the first live show was debut songs—which was fitting—and with Caline giving them a choice of three, Marinette had placed her vote in for the upbeat one, knowing that the higher-pitched notes were bound to impressive towards the end.

Along with the mandatory dancing lessons with the choreographers, meeting vocal coaches in their assigned room, and trying to figure out their meals together, there was something else that Caline insisted on. For good teamwork between all of her groups, she'd made it so each group was teamed up with another, encouraged to spend their free time together to help their budding relationships and allow the viewers to see their good points.

It caused her to sour from the moment it was uttered, and then when she saw that Adrien's group had been the one assigned to hers, she honestly wanted to grip at her hair in frustration. Papillon stiffened her hands, whispering a warning to behave in her head, reminding her that there were cameras all around, waiting to capture the outrageous moments and catch her worst sides.

So, it was with a blank expression that she was dragged by Lila to the living room, awkwardly carrying ingredients in her hands. Aurore, a social butterfly, had decided that they'd cook and eat dinner together to get to know each other.

They were the two groups that had four members each. Adrien was there, with his blond hair that fell to his ears, neatly combed and longer than she'd seen him have growing up. Beside him, as the tallest member, was a tanned male with short curly black hair and spectacles, who introduced himself as Nino. The two had obviously bonded, happy to sit by each other and interact while everyone tried to decide who their best cooks were.

The other two were quieter, had shy smiles and were soft-spoken and polite when they introduced themselves; Nathaniel with his red-coloured hair, pale skin, the shortest of the males (an inch or so taller than her, though), and Ivan, who had wide shoulders and muscles that paled in comparison to his wonderful laugh.

Nathaniel was the one that cooked with her. As they were out of earshot of the rest of the group, but could still hear the laughter, Marinette found herself relaxing, creating conversation with him that wasn't too forced. When they were dishing up the food, she was somewhat surprised to find that he was genuinely likeable, and there had been no talk of competitiveness.

With everyone sat down on stools, plates in front of them, it was Nino that broke the silence with, "So, you didn't poison this, right?"

Marinette looked at him and replied flatly, "You do realise that I didn't cook this alone, right?"

Laughing, the bespectacled male simply picked up his cutlery. "I'm just checking, okay. I wouldn't put it past you guys to try and sabotage us before our first performance." When he received glares from all of her group—including Juleka, who'd sat herself beside Ivan—Nino held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "That's what happens, isn't it? I looked it up online, and it's pretty common."

"Yes, and then the ones that do the sabotaging are kicked out of the show," Aurore pointed out, leaning back with raised eyebrows. "Considering there's countless cameras around the dorms—and that they're recording this very conversation—only an idiot would try it."

"Well, this is some good bonding," Adrien quipped, sounding thoroughly amused.

Her stomach tightened as she looked down at her plate. She'd introduced herself to him flatly and then turned away, addressing the others with a much friendlier expression—meaning it wasn't purposely blank due to Papillon's interference—all of which should've been blatantly obvious to the others. She knew that coming across rude, making herself a target because of negative emotions, was a bad idea, but the thought of sucking it up and pretending to be polite, to see his smile directed at her when it caused a trickle of awkward adolescent memories, made her feel more uncomfortable.

Since she was one of the duo to cook, Marinette placed down her cutlery and stood up to leave, uttering a quiet, "Excuse me."

When she was securely in her room, dressed ready for bed to have some time alone, Marinette rested upon her mattress, staring up at the ceiling and wondered about her chances for the upcoming days. It was two nights before their performance, where she'd have to stand onstage with others and be judged by the public, all the while trying to remember the specific dance moves that alluded her.

That was when Papillon decided to interrupt her musing with a comment of, "Well, this has worked out in your favour for publicity."

Her eyes darted to the door. "What are you on about?"

"It seems that Agreste boy that you hate is considered famous on the internet—he has quite the following, and from the posts I've found online since the first episodes have aired, the public are already speculating your relationship," the Kwami revealed blandly.

She paled. It was always known that the supercomputer was able to access the internet from her somehow; they'd been able to direct them while driving before, and could research fashion trends and other information. However, she hadn't thought they'd bypass the restrictions that contestants were given, therefore making it so she was cheating by being told.

"What?" Marinette choked out quietly.

There was no humourless chuckle, no comforting speech to make her feel better. Papillon had followed her thought process easily. "I am not restricted by such actions," they pointed out. "They will not know that I am the one that got through their security, nor will the blame be shifted to you. I am untraceable, Miss Cheng."

An untraceable mentor that was able to tell her about the news that should've been kept from them. Marinette groaned into her hands from a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort, stomach churning from knowing that she was using forbidden ways to move forward. "What were you saying about Adrien?"

"I've been able to find fifty-three videos of him singing online, all of which have steadily increased in popularity over the past two years," the Kwami replied, no qualms in helping her cheat. "From your rejection of him, that was, indeed, a portion of the episode that aired, his fans have speculated that you dislike his videos, and therefore him."

She sighed. "That's not reassuring for me at all."

"A majority of the anger is directed at the judges for forcing him into a group," they interjected. "It is nothing to be afraid of. Your auditions garnered you a lot of attention; you are currently the fifth most watched audition on the internet, while the Agreste boy is the first."

With those statistics in mind, Marinette changed into clothes for working out, and made her way to the studio to practice her dancing again.

Their practices were called off the following day. With the live shows a day away, they were ordered to rest to not injure themselves, and with that Caline handed the lot of them off to stylists. As it turned out, makeovers were a large part of such shows; whenever contestants made it to the live shows, they were revealed to look different to how they did before, with the right make-up on so they wouldn't look ghostly underneath the lights.

Marinette didn't protest as she was directed to a chair, and she was immediately thankful that the stylist had to confirm their vision with her first.

When they asked her to have short hair—not to her shoulders, or around that length, but buzzed at the bottom—she'd refused flatly with, "Absolutely not."

It wasn't bad after that. Layers were put into her hair, and it was shortened a tad so it went down to her collarbones, and her bangs were cut in again. Jukela's black hair that fell to her waist faded purple at the ends, Lila had a thick fringe cut in, and Aurore was given bangs that were swept to the side. Other than Marinette, the other three were able to keep the length of their hair.

There was staring as the groups met backstage in their casual clothing, each taking the other's changed looks as they greeted each other awkwardly.

Adrien seemed unchanged, while Nino's hair had been cut short enough that his curls weren't visible. Nathaniel's was shortened on one side, while the other reached just below his jawline—with his bangs swept to that side—and Ivan had his hair dyed blond at the front only, a small section that stood out due to the rest being short.

Some of the others she spied looked unrecognisable, especially a soloist that walked past with dyed blonde hair. It was only from Papillon's whisper that she realised who it was, and by that point they'd walked off.

Stylists came in to give them their outfits, put on their make-up and style their hair, and Marinette was a nervous ball of energy as she sat in the seat, trying to stay still as her dark strands were fiddled with. Papillon was telling her the time that was remaining until the show went live, and it was five minutes later that Caline came into the room, revealing the order that they would be performing.

Marinette's group went third.

She was clad in tight jeans and a t-shirt that was reminiscent to the music video of the song they were performing—no high-heeled shoes yet, thankfully—and minutes before they were sent on, they had to stand backstage as Alya fluttered around, passing different microphones and earpieces to each of them, making sure they were comfortable in the small amount of time they had.

On the stage, that faced the judges in their elongated desk and the rest of the large hall filled with the audience, a large screen showed a montage of their time spent together; a mesh of practices, personal time in the dorms in front of the cameras, and even a small section that featured her group eating with Adrien's.

With the familiar microphone in her hand, the earpiece that she'd always wore that matched with Chloé's, she took a deep breath before walking on the stage, leading the way for the rest of her group behind her. Through the brave faces, it was clear that the other females were just as nervous as she, but she felt the need to reassure them that it would be fine, that they'd practise hard enough to be recognised.

She held Lila's hand when she looked over her shoulder to see that the brunette was lagging behind, squeezing gently in silent support.

Lila returned the movement.

Taking their positions onstage, a cue came through the earpiece, warning them that the song was about to start as the spotlights fell onto them.

It was a lot better than their first performance together. Marinette didn't fall behind from the small amount of choreography, instead keeping up the others, her movements only a tad sloppier than Aurore's. Caline had divided the song to give Marinette the least amount of lines, but she was given the high notes in the background, and the opportunity to belt and attract attention towards herself at the end, finally showing having the spotlights on her for more than a few words that she'd had for the first half.

Juleka sang a second too early for one of her sections, which had caused her to flush, but hadn't thrown her off their performance. The tall female was their best dancer, and it showed especially after her mistake, moves executed well in an attempt to make up for the fumble.

Nadja came out onto the stage with a bright smile and microphone in her hand, asking questions about how they felt about their performance. Lila and Aurore were their designated chatterers, talking up a storm while Marinette recollected her breath, and she might've jumped in surprise as Juleka walked over to stand beside her with a smile.

When Nadja turned to the judges for their opinions, it was Armand that responded first. "That performance was a lot more put together than your previous ones, girls. As glad as I am that you managed to find an understanding, I find myself having to question Caline's decision."

"He is not the only one," Papillon input, the sudden interruption no longer making Marinette physically stiffen. "There have been seventy-two comments on why you were given the least lines thus far."

She didn't know how to feel about that.

"Oh?" Caline questioned, eyebrows raised as he turned to look at her colleague. "I know you wanted to have the groups, Armand, but that doesn't mean you have to make me look bad because of your jealousy. It's perfectly fine to praise them without having to insult me in the same sentence."

A short laugh escaped him. "The song wasn't a good choice; they would've been better off with one that highlighted their strengths, rather than pandering to your need to have them prance around the stage."

As it became clear there the two judges had different opinions, Penny leaned forward to obstruct their view of each other. "It was a lovely performance, really. I enjoyed it immensely, especially since we know that you were all soloists before. It's clear that your voices can work together, but I have to agree with Armand here, Caline. The dancing came too soon, and it was obvious that at least two of them had never danced before."

"The sooner it's input into their performances, the sooner they can improve," the red-haired judge defended. "They've been working hard, learning to sing while dancing through the week, and I'm immensely proud of how far they've come."

"Okay," Nadja said loudly, drawing attention to herself with a pleasant smile. "As amusing as it is to hear you three bicker, we only have a few minutes left of allocated time." And with that said, she turned them, looking specifically at her and Juleka, the two that hadn't spoken yet. "Do you two have anything to say to the judges?"

Papillon encouraged her with, "You do."

The microphone was pointed towards her, Nadja raising her eyebrows in request for a silent answer, and it was clear from Juleka's stiff form that the taller female wasn't going to respond.

"Miss Cheng, I am capable of causing more than your nose to bleed," the Kwami reminded her grimly. "I've been researched that there's a bodily function that I can control that will result in your humiliation."

She—

Marinette gulped. Although she'd grown somewhat comfortable with the presence in her head, there was still no forgetting that it had absolute power over her. There was no about of protesting she could do that would sway their opinions, and grossly crying didn't cause it to feel sympathy—computers didn't have emotions, after all.

A pressure became known on the lower half of her body, and that spurred her into action.

"The line distribution was unfair," she blurted, not sounding as panicked as she felt. Marinette's heart was beating in her chest, and the pressure subsiding from her response. It was horrifying to realise that she could be threatened with such a thing, let alone the fact that it was on live television.

The conversations ended after that. Nadja called out the number the public had to call, or message, to vote for Marinette's group to get through to the next round, and they were herded off of the stage by the members of stage that were hovering, beckoning with their hands.

"Hey, good job out there," Alya greeted her with a pleasant smile as she retrieved the earpieces and microphones, comment mostly directed towards Marinette.

Her own lips tugged into a shy smile. "Thanks."

"For what it's worth, I do agree with what you said," the red-head announced as she left, arms bundled with the equipment.

There was no good-bye or words of advice; just that simple comment before her departure. So far, though, other than the coaches and choreographers, Alya had been the kindest member of staff throughout the auditions and shows. The ones that they confirmed their identities with, or security that they had to tell they were going out, were stern-faced and straight to the point, mostly unapproachable.

To make it fair, votes wouldn't start going through until the end of the show, and then there would be a period of two hours of downtime where the votes were tallied and counted, and the contestants would be herded back onstage after nervously eating the food provided backstage.

Marinette had grabbed one of the books that were provided, choosing to immerse herself in fiction instead of bonding with the other contestants. They were chattering around her, sitting down at tables and eating the food provided, but her stomach was churning from the nerves too noticeably for her to feel comfortable with eating. So, she flipped through the pages, listening to Papillon's idle comments on the response that the episode had garnered online thus far, not sure whether the knowledge that one of the male soloists had absolutely butchered his song should make her feel guilty or not.

"Hey," Juleka greeted as she sat down beside her, still clad in the jeans and t-shirt that the group had been made to wear. They were told to stay in the same outfits for the two hour break, so they could be recognisable when they go onstage, despite the fact that there would be pictures of them on the screen or have Nadja announce their names. "How are you feeling?"

She closed the book and placed it on the table in front of her. "I'm okay, thank you," Marinette replied politely, knowing that cameras were watching them. "How are you? You did well tonight."

"There's no need to flatter me," the taller female answered softly, a shy smile on her lips. "I know I messed up, and I just want you to know that I'm sorry for that."

It had barely been a mistake, though. Papillon had said that the comments about their performance had focused on the distribution—and Aurore's midriff when she'd raised her arms dancing—rather than Juleka's mistiming. If anything, it had been ignored, not treated as a humorous moment like Lila's had been from the previous week's show.

"You did great, Juleka." Marinette shook her head. "In comparison to my dancing, you were amazing, okay? There's nothing to be worried about."

Fiddling with the purple ends of her hair, Juleka's brown-coloured eyes flickered up to see at her curiously. "I—I've been worried about talking to you for a while now," she admitted, voice a soft mumble that could only just be heard alongside the chatter of the room. "You're pretty unapproachable, you know?"

No, she did not know. "Oh." Marinette blinked. "Am I coming across as a total bitch or something? It's not my intention, I'm... I'm just not very good with people, I guess."

To her surprise, Juleka's lips turned into a grin. "Me, too," she confessed, expression warmer and more genuine that it had been before; her smile reached her eyes, causing the corners to crinkle in an adorable way. "If you wanted to, I mean—I could help you out with your dancing?" Juleka offered, sounding self-conscious and curious all at once. "I've been taking lessons since I was little, so I'm not a complete beginner."

"Accept," Papillon commanded her.

As it would've been more informative than Papillon's instructions via watching videos—that she couldn't even see—she had planned to accept from the beginning. It would help her bond with Juleka outside of their small talk at meals, and allow them to become more comfortable instead of being defensive about their faults in the group.

After she'd accepted, they discussed books that they'd read, as it turned out that they had similar tastes. One of the female soloists had listened into their conversation and tentatively joined in, sharing their opinions as the time passed, and it was to someone entering the room and knocking loudly to catch their attention that she realised that the two hour break was almost up.

Marinette navigated the room to find Aurore and Lila sat with Adrien's group. She hovered awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt their conversation with her presence, so she leaned against the wall and fiddled with her hair, smiling gratefully as Juleka came to stand beside her, visibly nervous as she tugged her t-shirt down.

They were all herded on stage, made to stand in sections to show which mentor they'd been assigned, and Nadja stood at the front of the stage with the lights focused on her. She greeted the audience, addressing the cameras with the microphone in her hand, showing the bright smile that she was known for as she remarked that voting was closed, and that the numbers were being tallied.

An embarrassing montage of each contestant's practice sessions from that week showed on the screen behind them to buy time; Marinette saw herself fall over while dancing, and Aurore grimace as she butchered a note. There was laughter from the audience from the scenes shown, and she was sure that Papillon would tell her later which scenes was the most praised or commented on.

Sometimes, she wasn't sure whether to be grateful for the presence she had in her head. It was an unfair advantage, yes, and she wouldn't have accepted it if she had known what the Kwami was capable of. Although Papillon's intentions were clear from the beginning—to make her successful, no matter the cost—it was the fact that they could harm her that had her worrying the most. The recent threat to have her soil herself on live television had renewed the budding terror of what could happen.

"There's no need to be melodramatic, Miss Cheng," her Kwami commented flatly. "I am here to make you a better version of yourself; someday, you'll have to toss away your childish ideals and accept my advice without a fight."

Names were called in a random order to say who had passed. Nadja called her group fifth, and she walked off of the stage stiffly, surprised that they'd managed to make it through despite the whispers in her head assuring her that their performances had been well received. There was no way for Papillon to know what the results would be before they were revealed—at least, she hoped not, as having the supercomputer in her head hack the show she was participating in didn't seem like a good idea.

A male soloist was eliminated.

-x-

A problem occurred the following week in the form of a male shouting out behind her, "Wait up!"

Marinette almost tripped over in the street. She'd managed to regain her balance, cheeks burning from embarrassment, and when she looked over her shoulder to glare at the person that had called out, the expression fell flat when she saw who it actually was.

With his blond-coloured hair sticking out in different directions, clearly not brushed, Adrien fell in step beside her with a wide smile. "Hey! You're going to go practice, aren't you?" he said as a greeting, as though she hadn't brushed him off rudely the previous times when they were together with their groups. "Everyone left without me a few minutes ago because I couldn't find my other shoe."

Papillon steadily pointed out, "There's no cameras or microphones around to pick up your interaction."

With that in mind, she didn't feel guilty as she shrugged and straightened out to walk and said, "Good for you."

Rather than taking the hint that she didn't walk to talk, Adrien kept up with her pace, moving to be beside her, shoulders almost touching as he avoided the passing cars. "So, are you purposely trying to be the mysterious one? Nino's betting that it's your character for the show."

As laughable as that was, she was aware that some of the other contestants were trying to force a personality on camera. Papillon had given her a rundown of what had been shown each week, saying the inconsistencies and the ones that she should feel threatened by. Adrien's group had the second most viewed performance of the previous week, and Marinette's was fourth.

"Have you considered that, maybe, I don't want to get to know you?" Marinette replied coldly, keeping her eyes on where she was walking. The studio was only a few streets away, a small distance that they were unsupervised for. "I'm not interested in insincere friendships, especially not with the likes of you."

"Oh," Adrien breathed, not sounding hurt by the the retort. There was a moment where only the sound of their footsteps and the passing vehicles filled the silence, one where she felt increasingly awkward, still aware that her cheeks were coloured red from her hurt pride and memories of her teenage years. "If this is because you think my fans will attack you, I can't make any promises that they won't."

She blinked.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see that he'd reached up to fiddle with his hair. "That's why you didn't want to be paired together, right?"

That—she wanted to laugh, truly. Marinette hadn't fretted or worried on whether Adrien would be offended by her actions, instead wondering how the public would view them, but for him to come towards her with such words was absurd, but amusing. A burst of laughter escaped her, only spurred on when he looked baffled, and within seconds she raised a hand to try and muffle the sound.

When she'd gotten herself under control, having stopped in front of the building they'd been travelling to, Marinette looked up at him with a bitter smile. "You don't remember me, do you?"

His eyebrows were pinched together, a clear look of confusion as he stood beside her, looking down in befuddlement. "What?" Adrien questioned.

That was all the confirmation she needed, really. He'd heard her name announced by the judges before she was in the group—when they'd been selected to be together—and yet it hadn't triggered any memories. Maybe, he hadn't known her at all; to him she had only been Arin, the boy that had had a crush on him, one that he'd tried to reject in the easiest way possible for him (which happened to be in the middle of the dining hall, so other students were within hearing distance and could audibly laugh at her).

"The cameras here are for security purposes," Papillon reminded her. "You're only recorded in the designated rooms."

Well, that sounded the closest to encouragement that she'd get from her Kwami.

"I'm not interested in being your friend because I know you," Marinette proclaimed, eyes flickering up to his as she gazed at him coldly. "Outside of the polite smiles and friendly face, I know that you don't really care about others—you're an inconsiderate person, Adrien Agreste."

His green eyes widened.

Her smile wasn't sincere. "I'm looking forward to beating you."

And with that said, she walked away.

If Adrien was greatly offended by their brief interaction, he didn't show it; they saw each other in their designated rooms at first before they split off to practice, with Caline bouncing between the doorways to eventually talk to them.

Marinette was civil, and shyly kind, to the other members of his group whenever they spoke, finding herself warming up to Ivan, as he reminded her fondly of Chloé's bodyguard (perhaps it was the wide shoulders and stoic expressions, despite how soft-spoken he was). She happily grinned back and waved when they passed each other in the halls, didn't put up too much of a fuss when Aurore insisted that their shared meal the previous week should be repeated—not just for the cameras, but because having good relationships with their fellow groups wasn't a terrible idea—so, it was with amusement that she watched as two were selected at random, nominated by childish games, to be the ones to cook.

With Juleka helping her out with her dancing during the day, specifically when the four of them practised after their choreographer had left to direct other contestants, she was able to get to know her group-mates better, not just with the passing comments in the mornings or idle talk as they tried to live together.

Marinette learned that Aurore was stubborn at first with criticism, but was able to accept it after the topic was changed and she was able to think about it. Lila had a penchant for laughing too loudly and waking her up in the middle of the night due to a random thought or a paragraph in a book amusing her. And Juleka, with her shy smiles and shuffling feet when she wasn't dancing, was more than happy to just sit beside her and read, rather than watch the films that were available.

As the days passed, it was clear that others had found certain friend groups within their home, too. Sometimes, there were good-hearted taunts and jeers from contestants, and she'd once heard only a few insults that had actual heat behind them from some of the soloists. Most of the time, though, they were too exhausted after practising all day to have an enthusiastic conversation in the evenings.

After the steady success the show had already received, a new section was added to the website, where visitors could select a contestant they wanted to see cooking. It was a special video that was posted on the website only, shot with good cameras rather than the ones dotted on the walls, so it was partway through the week that contestants were told not to enter the non-gendered kitchen, as Adrien's group was the only one that was wanted to be seen.

The second week's show found her wearing an outfit that she'd never would have worn willingly. The theme picked was adequately labelled imagination, which Caline had happily suggested upbeat songs that had different meanings to each listener, and the stylists had freely dressed her in tight shorts hidden beneath a skirt, that didn't even reach halfway down her thigh, and a shirt that was in an equally bright colour. It was the type of outfit that she'd see at a fancy dress party, and she shuffled awkwardly backstage in it, sharing grimaces with others who had equally uncomfortable outfits.

Adrien's group went before her, and when he came out, smiling brightly from the praise that she'd heard on the television backstage, he purposely looked at her across the room, then raised his hand to head and saluted.

And, somehow, that small gesture was caught on camera, along with her blank expression as she watched him walk away. It wasn't aired until after the two hour break, included in the montage of that week's events, and Papillon later told her that it was one of the most talked about parts.

A duo group was eliminated.

-x-

Throughout the week, Papillon informed her on the popular topics related to the show. Adrien's appearance stirred interest, of course; it turned out, due to his fans online and an anonymous interview that was released in a magazine, that he'd originally planned to sign onto a company to debut alone in the upcoming year, but it fell apart a few months ago—which was the reason for him signing up to the competition. He was easily the most spoken about contestant, a fan favourite due to his amount of followers online, and because of that his group won the website exclusive section again.

Other than a soloist's performance that had garnered a lot of views, a new topic had risen up on forums, one that had her nervously running her hands through her hair in the privacy of her bedroom. Adrien's salute combined with her cold stare had garnered attention, and one user had taken it upon themselves to place all of their interactions in one video—it showed her rejecting him at the auditions, eating dinner without looking at each other, and then the much talked about salute.

"This is good," Papillon insisted after informing her. "It's a way for you to be noticed outside of your voice; keep up your rivalry with this Agreste boy and you'll attract the much needed attention to make yourself known."

She groaned into her hands. "Known for being a bitch, you mean? Juleka already said that I seemed hard to approach, and I don't know whether that's because of you, or if I'm naturally just repulsive to other people."

"I am not here to be your therapist," the Kwami replied, sounding as though they were commenting on the weather. "You are free to befriend those you wish. I will only interfere if I believe the relationship will be harmful to your future. As you're trying to stray from the topic, I'm advising you to return the gesture after your performance this week. It's highly unlikely that his will be before yours again."

As tempting as it sounded, the dark-haired female muttered, "You mean you're commanding me, not advising."

"I tried to use different wording to see whether you'd respond better, Miss Cheng," was the respond she received. "If it suits you better, I can promise to punish you if you disobey my instructions."

It was like having a permanent teacher that looked out for her in an aggressive manner, one that she couldn't shake, no matter what she did. "Right," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "So, antagonise him in front of the cameras? I'm not exactly against it, but that's—I'm not like that."

"A friendship with him will only hinder you, Miss Cheng," Papillon drawled. "From my calculations, negative feelings towards him have excellent results, rather than reverting back into your infatuation with him. I advise you to ignore him until after performances; having a rival you wish to beat is, apparently, a good motivator for your kind, too."

She wondered whether having a rival in school would've made her focus more on her grades, rather than only wanting to run home and spend time with her mother.

"My kind?" Marinette repeated, furrowing her eyebrows.

If they could, Papillon sounded like they would've sighed. "Human."

Adrien and Lila were the ones that won the honour of cooking that week. Lila's laugh was audible from across the room as she tried to avoid putting pans on the heat, insisting that she was only good for stirring, and it caused a few chortles to escape from her loud protests. When a plate was placed in front of her, with the blond-haired male giving her a smile that didn't reach his eyes or show his dimples at all, she furrowed her eyebrows at him before looking away.

There was nothing wrong with the food, though. The thought of wondering whether he was petty enough to give her the burnt sections hadn't crossed her mind; after all, there were cameras dotted around them, catching their every move.

When she was clad in a lacy outfit, one more elegant than the previous two that the stylists had given her, waiting backstage as she fiddled with the material of her skirt, Nino came to stand beside her, similarly adjusting the tie that he'd been given (it was bright and stood out from the rest of the dark-coloured outfit).

His grin was kind as he greeted her with, "Hey, Marinette. Where are the other girls at?"

Tilting her head in the direction briefly, she answered, "Hair and make-up, still. I managed to nab a spot when some of the soloists were being done."

"Sneaky." The dark-haired male whistled, raising his eyebrows. The glasses he usually wore around their dorms were swapped out for contact lenses, as the glare of his spectacles weren't good for television, apparently. "Good luck this week, okay? I think even without Adrien's popularity, our song would be able to compete with yours just fine."

She blinked. "You don't even know what song we're singing—wait, what?"

"Come on," Nino said with a laugh. "I'm not an idiot, and nor are the other contestants. It's not a secret that Adrien's the star of the show, especially not when he's so open about it. The dude has no problems telling anyone that asks that he posts videos online—it made one of the soloists angry because they consider it an unfair advantage."

"Oh." If they considered being somewhat known on the internet to be an unfair advantage, then what would they say about a supercomputer being in her brain? "I mean, I don't really see the problem with it? It wasn't in the rules, and he clearly got through auditions after telling them. It's not like it's a dirty secret that he's ashamed of."

The grin she received showed his teeth. "Yeah, exactly!" Nino agreed, hand falling to pat her on the shoulder before he turned away. After a few steps, he looked at her over his shoulder and said in farewell, "I can see your clique coming, so I'll disappear for now. See you later, Marinette."

Lila's arms were wrapped around her shoulders a few moments later. "Tell me your outfit's also horrendously itchy, too, please."

She huffed out a laugh. "The lace?"

"Yes," the brunette groaned, resting her head against Marinette's carefully styled hair. "I'm either going to flash someone, or end up giving into the urge to itch myself onstage. It's bound to be embarrassing either way."

Reaching up to pat the top of Lila's head, Marinette pointed out, "That's why they have us wear tiny shorts underneath, silly girl. Our modesty is very important to the nation, Lila."

"No underwear shots before nine o'clock?"

She laughed. "That's exactly right. Now, even if you slip over and embarrass yourself, there won't be any videos of you showing your underwear on the internet. Isn't that something to be glad about?"

"Great," Lila mumbled into her hair. "I bet you I'll be the first one to slip over out of the four of us. I'm not even kidding, as soon as Caline tries to get us to perform in anything high-heeled, I'm going to be a glorious disaster."

Glancing down at her feet, taking in the tiny heel that were on her modest-looking shoes, she questioned, "What about tonight? They're higher than the shoes we usually practice in."

The brunette barked out a laugh. "Marinette, these heels are the size of my fingernail. I'm not going to embarrass myself yet."

As their song was a ballad, there wasn't much dancing involved. Caline had been insistent on arm movements and tiny steps, not the energetic routine she'd influenced them to do the previous weeks, so there weren't any disasters. The line distribution had evened out slightly, with Juleka gaining verses that she shared with Aurore's strong voice, and Marinette was able to shine by holding a long note, one that she'd been particularly proud of when she was younger and first practising.

The only criticism they received was to work on blending their voices together, rather than having individual parts other than the chorus. It was understandable; Caline had decided from the beginning that they needed to explore their own abilities first before meshing them together, and that was showing in their performances. Yet, the audience cheered loudly, and Marinette's smile reached her eyes as she breathed heavily, happy to allow her other members to answer Nadja, pleased just to be onstage and able to see the reactions in person.

When she walked backstage, heels audible on the floorboards, she purposely caused her lips to curl into a smug smirk as Adrien looked up at their entrance.

He raised his eyebrows in return.

Marinette was sat backstage with a blanket, watching the screen that they were provided with that showed what was happening live. She leaned against Juleka—who put up no protests—and shared a bottle of water.

Ivan's low voice was beautiful to listen to. He was chosen to be the main vocal of his group for that night's performance because of the emotion he was able to portray with his soft rasps, and when Nathaniel harmonised with him, it was clear to see why Nino had been proud of their upcoming song. Adrien didn't dominate the distribution, but he had a stage presence that drew attention to him, even while he was swaying and supporting the others without the intent of being the focus.

"They're good," Aurore remarked from where she was slouched, not at all looking like the prim and elegant figure that had been on the stage not too long ago. "I guess I underestimated their ballad potential because of all the upbeat music we've done lately."

"That's rude," Juleka reprimanded quietly, no heat to her words. "You should value all our competitors equally."

The blonde laughed softly. "Yes, mother."

"I think you're older than me, actually," Juleka replied, fiddling with the purple at the ends of her hair curiously. It had been curled, so the colours blended together beautifully, standing out against the formal outfit. "I—I just think it's unfair for you to judge others when we're still trying to work together ourselves."

Lila reached over and placed a hand on her head, similar to how Marinette had done to her earlier that evening. "You're definitely the mother of the group, sorry. I would've thought for sure that it would be Marinette, but apparently not."

Marinette blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Aurore agreed, leaning her back back so she didn't have to move forward to see her clearly. "You're the one that helps make sure we all eat, after all."

"And the one getting extra dance lessons," she pointed out in her own defence. "I can't be the mother if Juleka's the one tutoring me, that's not right."

The playful argument was interrupted by Papillon's bored drawl of, "Pay attention to your competitors, Miss Cheng. There's time to be childish when you're dressed casually."

Understanding that it was a demand, Marinette held back a sigh and gestured towards the screen, effectively ending the conversation. The performance had ended, and the cameras were zooming in to capture the bright smiles on their faces, showing Nino putting a proud arm around Ivan's shoulders to being him into a quick hug.

The only question that piqued her interest was when Nadja asked, "What would you say is motivating you nowadays?"

She gestured towards each of them with the microphone, receiving answers of singing for the pleasure of it, to prove that they were capable of being there, and it was when she pointed to Adrien that the blond-haired male raised a hand to the nape of his neck and answered, "Well, a rivalry, I guess?"

It sounded like a question, but the other members laughed with him, clearly understanding what he'd meant.

She refused to fidget.

As the group came backstage, meeting the staff members that were there to take off their microphones and earpieces, Nino was visibly distracted as he grinned and waved his hand, the one that he had the microphone in, from across the room, teeth showing as Marinette stared right back.

"I told you!" he called loudly, intending the comment to be between them, despite the other contestants and countless employees that walked around.

Alya, the employee that was closest to their age, reached up into his waving hand to retrieve the equipment. "Let me do my job before you get all hyperactive," the red-head chastised.

"Right, sorry," Nino blurted, releasing the hold and causing the microphone to clatter loudly to the floor from his carelessness.

As he reached down to collect it, he ended up knocking his shoulder against Alya's body—as she'd crouched to pick it up, too—and it resulted in her falling backwards with an undignified noise of surprise escaping her.

"Oh, fuck," Nino swore, forgetting about the microphone as his hands moved around quickly, not quite sure whether to touch her to see whether she was okay.

Alya glared, reaching up to push her spectacles—that Marinette hadn't seen before—back onto the bridge of her nose. "I'm fine, I just need your damn microphone so I can piss off and eat my dinner."

And with that said, the red-head got to her feet and picked up the fallen microphone, intentionally glaring at Nino before she collected the other equipment from his members, then walked off with it collected in her arms. Nino visibly winced as disappeared, shouting out a loud apology that only drew more attention to him.

Adrien's group came to settle beside them, accepting the blankets that Aurore tossed at them, and the bottle of water that was rolled over. It was a friendly interaction that they'd done the previous week; making it so the eight of them were comfortable and not feeling awkward as they waited backstage before they were dismissed into the other rooms of the building where they had to stay for the two hour break. The security made sure they didn't wander outside and get lost, and they were restricted to the food that would be available after the first show, so no cooking was permitted.

The screen where they could see each other's performances made up for the downtime, though the two hours were spent with some of them napping on different surfaces, no judgement in each other's eyes.

Marinette slept beside Juleka on a small couch before the second show, and it was after that they found out that another male soloist was eliminated.

-x-

As suspected, Adrien's comment had caused viewers to come to their own conclusions about their relationship. Papillon was thrilled—well, as pleased as an emotionless supercomputer could be—with the development, and it seemed that the show had realised the potential for the blond-haired male's popularity.

Rather than selecting only one group to see in the kitchen, the website added a new option where voters that confirmed their e-mail could nominate specific contestants outside of their groups, allowing the public to select up to two participants, not including the rest of their members.

It wasn't a surprise when Adrien was selected for it again; Nino had been right before in saying that the rest of them knew of his popularity. Although the numbers were never revealed, no one protested when the blond had a solo segment in the kitchen, where he had to awkwardly talk to the camera by himself, with no one else allowed in the area. The producers didn't want random contestants walking in to try and draw attention to themselves, so there was at least one member of staff on lookout.

The conversations she had with Adrien were silent. They either raised eyebrows at each other, or smiled smugly whenever they crossed paths at practice, and although it didn't feel malicious, it still got on her nerves. Sometimes, she caught him staring at her curiously, before looking away when she noticed. It was a reaction she wasn't used to; for most of her life, she'd been the one shying away when gazes turned her way.

She hadn't intended for such a relationship to build, and she knew that her younger self would've been overjoyed with the attention; the extent of their conversations in school had been an apology and the rejection. She'd managed to grow up and attract his attention in a different way, and she wasn't at all happy with that.

Marinette glowered at him the next time they walked past each other.

The other contestants picked up on it, of course.

Lila was the only one from her group to ask her, "What's going on with you and Adrien?"

They were in their beds, trying to sleep despite the sweltering heat and nerves from the upcoming show. Marinette's legs felt sore from the dancing, even more so from Juleka's help after dinner before they'd returned back to the dorm, and she felt lethargic most days. It was a state that the others shared; caffeinated drinks were popular in the mornings, even more so when those that weren't good at waking up wandered out of their bedrooms.

There was no alarm sounding throughout the rooms, so if they weren't able to arrive to the studios on time via using the clocks provided on their bedside tables, they were chastised and threatened that if it happened repeatedly—them not showing interest in bettering themselves—there was the chance of them being evicted from the contest. Offensive comments, violence, or scandals could also result in their expulsion, and that was the reason for the constant cameras and security.

"I don't like him," Marinette confessed honestly, curling up into a more comfortable position with the duvet thrown off of her.

"Okay," the brunette replied easily, voice seeming to echo in their tiny bedroom. Their personal belongings were limited—and had been checked beforehand—so they only had a few photographs stuck on the wall and their clothing. "I'm assuming he pissed you off in the auditions?"

She snorted. "Something like that."

"I'm not going to complain." Lila laughed softly. "I'm probably only here because of you rejecting him. I should be thanking him, really."

The irony of her words weren't lost. Marinette muffled her laughter into the sheets, quietening down after she'd gotten herself under control, and it was only when Lila's breathing had evened out and signalled that she was asleep that she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"Papillon?" Marinette called quietly, voice barely a whisper. It still felt odd for her to try and use her thoughts to communicate with them.

There was no hesitation as they replied, "It's advised for you to be asleep now, Miss Cheng."

"I just have a question," she protested weakly. "I'll promise to sleep after that, okay? You don't need to threaten me."

"There was no threat in my words, child."

From the lack of emotion, it didn't seem reassuring. "I'm just—I have to ask, do you factor in my happiness to your equations at all?"

"Happiness is relative for your kind," the Kwami answered, straight forward with the no-nonsense tone that she'd become accustomed to. "I am here to help you achieve success; to live the best life you're capable of, not cater to your fleeting whims and attractions."

It—it sounded like a no. Marinette swallowed audibly, a prominent lump in her throat, and to her horror she realised that her eyes felt itchy, too. It was an embarrassing reaction that she smothered by pushing her face into her pillow, not wanting her room-mate to hear her crying. If her Kwami wasn't designed to make sure she was happy, then how could it qualify what counted as a good life?

Then, there was the fact that she didn't know how long the supercomputer would be present in her brain. She wasn't delusional; she theorised that metal detectors would pick it up, possibly, and if she happened to get an x-ray, then doctors would become aware of the anomaly in her body. Would they cut her open to remove it? There had been no talk of what would happen after Papillon achieved their purpose—the thought of being stuck with the device forever, forced to do things against her will, made her feel sick.

"There isn't a limit to success, Miss Cheng," Papillon drawled.

Marinette stiffened, eyes clenched shut to keep the tears at bay. That—she didn't want them to listen into her thoughts, to comment on every fear and worry in the bored tone that sounded increasingly close to mocking. There were times where she could understand Papillon's intentions, sometimes be grateful for them, but late at night where she couldn't sleep due to private fears wasn't one of them.

She sniffed. "What if—if I want something different for myself?"

"I am programmed to enforce my instructions if we have differing opinions," they pointed out neutrally. Sometimes, she wondered whether they would seem more human to her if their voice had a slight bit of emotion, or if a purely robotic voice would've been more suitable. "Humans are guilty of having their decisions change as the years pass."

They did have a point there. "Well, yes. That's why there's divorce," Marinette agreed quietly. "I—will you control my relationships, too?"

The Kwami replied easily, "You are free to befriend those you wish; I will only intervene if they are detrimental to your future."

"And what of romantic relationships, Papillon?" she whispered, as they hadn't understood the implications of her questions. "I doubt you're capable of making me love someone of your choosing."

"I can't, of course," they answered in a drawl. "However, it is within my power to stop your relations with unsavoury humans, child."

Her heart beat loudly in her chest. "That's a yes, then."

"Naturally."

She wondered how different Chloé would've been with the Kwami. It had been intended for her, after all, and it was only due to their secret that Marinette had ended up with it. What was it Chloé had said, back in the nightclub? The pill had been expensive, and somehow passed security to make it into the blonde's hands, but it had been a medicine of sorts.

Maybe it wasn't too bad that she was the one to consume it. Papillon would've realised that Chloé wasn't talented in singing, and perhaps would've forced to to pursue a different career; either way, whichever of the two of them swallowed the pill, the contract for Marinette to part ways with the company would've been signed. Although she'd been fretting about it before, trying to decide whether to go solo and gain the recognition, there was no doubt in her mind that she would've ended the agreement without Papillon's help.

The thing she missed most was her relationship with Chloé, the blonde's bodyguard, and the other members of staff that she'd become familiar with. It was a clause that she didn't like, forcing them not to interact any more. Marinette wasn't permitted to message Chloé even via social media, but that didn't stop her from following the blonde's profiles, to see what she had been doing before entering the competition.

Abusing Papillon's abilities to check on her friend didn't seem like a good use of time.

Adrien continued the routine after his performance by saluting at her once more after he'd handed off the equipment, grin showing his dimples as he approached the sitting area for those that had already had their turn.

Marinette simply stared at him blankly before Aurore called for her attention, making sure that they had their routine rehearsed correctly. They weren't performing a ballad that week; Caline had branched out for the for jazzier theme, insisting that they be dressed in shirts and either skirts or shorts with suspenders.

When she stood beside Juleka—who was the tallest, and Marinette's face was on level with her collarbones—she felt insecure by the difference in their clothing. And for that reason, Juleka had been given tight trousers to wear instead, though she didn't complain about the change; if anything, Juleka seemed more comfortable not wearing the tiny shorts that Lila had been provided, much happier as it was similar to the casual clothing she wore around their dorm.

"When you're questioned about your performance, you will mention the Agreste boy in your reply," Papillon commanded in her head as she'd placed the earpiece in, trying not to tangle the loose strands that escaped her bun around her ear. "If you do not, you know what will happen."

She didn't answer, instead holding the microphone tighter as she wanted for the cue to go onstage.

Their song was a jazzier arrangement of a popular song. Out of the three choices that Caline had given them, much like every week, she'd almost choked when she saw that a remake of one of Chloé's songs was on the list. It was only due to Juleka siding with her that they avoided having to perform it; as there hadn't been any comments on how similar her voice was to Chloé's yet, that would've finally done it.

She didn't know whether it would count as a violation of her agreement if she performed one of Chloé's songs on live television.

Juleka led them with her unique voice, the one that they'd chosen to be most suitable for the music, and it was afterwards when they were ushered to the edge of the stage by Nadja to hear the criticism from the judges. Armand was pleased that they'd focused less on dancing, still not as involved as they had been with their first song, Penny complimented Juleka's growth from barely having parts to being the main vocal in their performance, and Caline was overly pleased with how well they'd worked together.

"There's been some questions that have been asked a lot, and we're not going to address them," Nadja started once Aurore had excitedly thanked the judges. "Juleka and Marinette, you two auditioned to be soloists, didn't you?"

The other two did, too. "Yes," Juleka answered softly, voice only just being picked up by Nadja's microphone.

"As you both managed to get further than Aurore and Lila—no offence to you two, girls—I have to ask, do you feel any resentment that you could only advance as a group?"

"I'm happy to be here and I understand my limitations," Juleka replied, cheeks colouring red as she shyly tucked hair behind her ear. It wasn't a character that she was playing for the public; it was well known by that point she was quiet and got embarrassed easily, especially when cameras were pointed her way. "Being friends with everyone has made it easier, definitely."

Nadja grinned widely. "That's good to hear! We've seen some of your chemistry in the montages in the past week, and it's been a pleasure to watch you grow closer." And with Juleka's part over, Nadja's brown-coloured eyes darted to Marinette's as she looked at her imploringly. "What about you, Marinette? We're well aware that you rejected the option of being a duo with Adrien, so how do you feel about your current group?"

She licked her lips, heart pounding in her chest. It was her chance to mention him without it being awkward, able to follow Papillon's request naturally.

"They're nice," Marinette started, choosing her words carefully. "It's wonderful to work with people that I like, and it makes it easier when we have to spend time together."

When she walked backstage, she looked at Adrien and raised two fingers to her head to salute him.

He turned away without acknowledging her.

-x-

Another group was eliminated, meaning her own group and Adrien's were the last ones left for Caline. The female soloists had all four—though they had been in the bottom two for the past few weeks, yet no one had been eliminated—and the male soloists had two remaining, too. That meant that Caline was able to devote more attention to them, rather than dividing herself between four rooms, and the chorographers and vocal coaches were able to, too.

The poll on the website voted for Adrien to have a segment again, but the problem was that he wasn't alone.

Marinette fiddled with her dress as she looked at herself in the mirror, trying not to scowl. The results had been conveyed through Caline the day before—giving them slight warning, rather than it being out of the blue—and it was clear that it was non-negotiable.

Papillon was as happy as a Kwami could be, giving her tips on how to handle her awkward relationship with Adrien. The fact that she'd been chosen to cook with him out of all of the rest of the contestants had her head spinning. Papillon had told her about the comments and compliments that she'd received online, as well as checking the views that she garnered online with her singing, but hadn't warned her of the sudden development.

"I hate you," she muttered, adjusting her ribbon.

Of course, Papillon wasn't bothered. "Your feelings aren't of importance."

As always, contestants were told to stay away from the shared kitchen. Marinette shot Lila a disgruntled look as the brunette happily called out to her as she walked through their dorm, footsteps feeling having as she navigated the hallways. There were three members of staff in the kitchen talking to Adrien; she recognised Alya, who was adjusting the microphone that he was wearing, though the other two were unknown to her.

The red-haired female caught sight of her leaning awkwardly against the wall, unsure of what to do with herself. Adjusting her spectacles, Alya crossed the room to stand in front of her, fiddling with the microphone that she needed to put on her.

"Hey," Marinette greeted, fidgeting as the wires were placed underneath her clothing, and the microphone was placed on the collar of her dress. "I haven't seen you here before."

Alya snorted. "I work here."

She flushed. "I meant at the dorms, you know? I always see you during the weekends."

"That's because you never had the honour of being nominated for this dumb section," was the wry reply she received. Alya finished adjusting the wires and stood up straight, nodding to herself. "Now, try not to fuck up, okay? We had to cut out a lot of footage last week because that idiot over there wouldn't stop swearing."

Surprised, she remarked, "Really? We never heard anything about that."

"It's unprofessional to complain to contestants, so keep it quiet." The bespectacled female winked, grin growing on her lips. "If your microphone slips, or if you feel uncomfortable with the wires, don't be afraid to call for me, okay? My name's Alya, by the way."

"Oh, yes," Marinette agreed, smoothing out her dress from the nerves, needing something to do with her hands, before she offered it out in front of her for a handshake. "I know. I'm Marinette."

Alya's eyebrows rose so they were visible above the frames of her glasses. "Honestly, I thought you'd forget all about it. I'm kind of just background hands around here—working the magic behind the scenes and getting no glory for being tech savvy."

"I appreciate your help, thank you," she replied, her own smile sincere and not the forced polite one that she'd practised in the mirror. "I promise not to drop my microphone this weekend, too."

The mention of Nino's mistake caused Alya to roll her eyes before Marinette's name was called. She obediently walked across to the kitchen, moving to the countertops in the middle and the large stove, noting the pans, bowls, and equipment that had been placed on display on the sides, ready for use. There was no recipe printed out within view, or a note to tell them what they were going to do. Adrien or the rest of his members hadn't mentioned the section much, other than saying that it was a disaster when they had to cook together.

She awkwardly met Adrien's eyes while a staff member told them to relax, choose a recipe between them and simply talk while they did their tasks. They were encouraged to get to know each other, and they were warned that occasionally, a question that had been sent in from a viewer directed at either of them would be asked.

They were told that filming would start in a matter of seconds, and Marinette used that time to tuck the stray hairs that had escaped her braids behind her ears. From what she could tell from their weekly dinners, Adrien was either the equivalent of Lila in the kitchen, or the brunette had managed to mess up enough to change the quality of the food.

"So," Adrien started awkwardly, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt until they were at his elbows. "Anything you want to make, Marinette? As long as we've got the ingredients, it's fine."

She reached up and peeked inside one of the ingredient cupboards. The system of writing down different supplies on a list for them to be delivered was still there, and it took approximately two days for the items to be placed within plastic bags in the kitchen where the list originated from. It was a detail that all of the contestants had been pleased with, especially when they'd all started out with the bare essentials in the beginning.

She was inspecting the different types of flour as she answered, "I can probably work with anything you want to."

"Oh." He sounded surprised, perhaps at the fact that she wasn't snubbing him immediately. "We could do something sweet for dessert, I guess? Aurore's asked for our dinner to be tonight."

That was something that she hadn't heard. Usually, they had their weekly dinners before the segment, so she'd assumed that it had been delayed until before the show.

Marinette closed the cupboard and turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure you're able to do that?"

He blinked slowly. "If you're talking about the burnt bits on dinner the other week, that was completely Lila's fault."

"Sure," she replied easily, not ready to believe him in the slightest. "There's a reason why I have Lila slice and mix when we cook dinners."

Adrien's expression brightened up at the last comment, and he wandered closer, arms leaning on the countertop as he looked down at her and asked with a smile that didn't show his dimples, "Oh, you're the one that cooks for your group?"

"Sometimes." She took a step away and began to search pick out the ingredients they needed. "I usually make breakfast since I'm an early riser."

"That's nice of you, Marinette." It sounded almost patronising when it was combined with his insincere smile. "Care to enlighten me on what we're doing?" Adrien asked. Then, he added on, "Since it looks like you've decided."

As tempted as she was to throw the flour at him, the dark-haired female blandly answered, "Cookies."

Adrien's laughed didn't sound sincere either. "We don't have any cool cutters, though."

She shook her head, then searched for a mixing bowl big enough to hold enough dough for eight people. "We don't need to use them, and we can just change the mixture so we have to use a spoon."

Although they weren't planning to cook too many—as there wouldn't be enough room in the oven—she didn't want to make it so they could only have one each. Adrien let her do as she pleased as she searched throughout the kitchen, happy to just lean against the countertop as he watched her move, and it was only when Marinette had found the equipment and ingredients that they needed that she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Sorry," Adrien apologised with a half-hearted laugh. "So, since I don't have a clue what I'm doing, you're going to have to lead me. Is that okay with you?"

It wasn't as though she could say no and walk away. Papillon was insistent that she needed to be there, too, so Marinette curled her lips into a insincere smile and answered, "Oh, sure. I'll help you out."

Even if she wasn't able to recall the recipe that she had in mind, she was sure that her Kwami would successfully provide the information. They were useful for the small details like that, and waking her up in the mornings. Papillon had access to weather sites, too, so they were able to tell if it would rain when she returned from the studio. All the pluses added up, but combined they couldn't outweigh the power of free will.

"Now is not the time for melancholy," Papillon chastised. "You are required to do something interesting to set this video apart from the others, and to make the public want you to come back. I will instruct you when the time is right."

That sounded uncomfortable and ominous all at once.

"Do you know the recipe?" Adrien asked, effectively taking her attention away from the Kwami. "If you don't, I can go and get my laptop from my room. As long as we don't ruin it, I mean."

She shook her head. "It's okay, I've got a pretty good memory." A private smile curled on her lips from that. "If I tell you how much to weigh out, can you do that?" Marinette enquired, gesturing towards the equipment she'd set out.

He ran a hand through his hair quickly. "Yeah, sure. I can do that."

They worked almost in silence. Marinette relayed the amounts needed, tone as friendly as she could be when it was forced, and Adrien did as he was told without pursuing conversation. The clattering of cutlery filled the silence when she wasn't talking, but she knew that the staff weren't pleased with their reluctance to communicate. Papillon was surely plotting an act for her to do, something to cause viewers to watch their segment more than the previous ones.

She just hoped it didn't involve ruining her dress; it was one of the first she'd bought with her own money.

As Adrien passed the mixing bowl to her, indicating it was her turn to take over the dough for the time being, it was was a clearing of a throat that made her jump. Marinette only just managed not to drop the bowl onto the floor, and whirled around to stare at the employee that scared her with wide eyes.

Alya smiled sheepishly. "We're going to ask a few of the questions that were sent in now," she announced, reaching up to push her spectacles further up the bridge of her nose. It made sense it was her that was selected to speak; the other two were busy being the camera and making sure other contestants didn't wander inside. "You can continue what you were doing, there's no need to look at the camera."

"Right," Marinette agreed, warmth on her cheeks as she steadily placed the bowl on the side.

"This one's for Adrien," the red-head continued, voice loud and clear, pronouncing each syllable without stumbling over her words. "Why did you audition for this show instead of pursing a different record company?"

He didn't stiffen beside her, but she could see that he purposely looked down at the mixture instead of anywhere else. "I felt like it, I guess?" Adrien answered awkwardly, fiddling with his hands were he was leaning against the countertop. "It seemed like a good opportunity, so I took it. There's not much more to it than that."

There was definitely more to it, but no one was going to push him to say it. The questions continued for a while; Alya asked their feelings on specific contestants—to which Marinette didn't say her true feelings about, even lying about one female that always dropped food onto the floor in their kitchen—then enquired about their favourite songs that they'd performed, and then the last question was addressed to the both of them, still.

Alya asked, "Why did you two decide not to work together?"

Adrien was busy scooping the dough onto a tray, so Marinette had nothing to occupy her hands. She settled with washing the side, making sure to clear up the flour that had speckled the tiles of the floor.

Realising that she wasn't going to answer first, Adrien's quiet voice spoke up to say, "I don't know, honestly. I was all for it."

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably. She dried her hands slowly, trying to select an answer of her own due to Papillon's lack of interruption. It was the type of moment where they would be useful, and it would perhaps count as her task that they'd thought of, but when she realised that she was alone, it felt more daunting than before.

"Marinette?" Alya called, trying to catch her attention.

She didn't jump, surprisingly.

Starting to pack the ingredients they'd used away, while the male beside her was still busy with the trays, Marinette answered honestly, "I wouldn't have been comfortable working with him."

And that was it for the questions. When she looked over her shoulder to see whether there'd be anyone more, Alya gestured for the two of them to continue.

"So, Marinette's a long name," Adrien started, trying to make awkward conversation with her after he'd placed the trays into the oven. "Do you have a preferred nickname?"

She looked at him with furrowed brows. "My friends sometimes call me Mari." And it was true—Chloé had been fond of it when they were together, as had the other employees that she'd grown close to. It was a lot better than the dreaded one she'd earned in school, too.

"That's much easier," he remarked brightly. "Is it okay for me to use it?"

Rather than reply immediately, Marinette stared at him. There wasn't anything honest about the smile he was showing her; she knew that when it reached his green-coloured eyes, when the indents on his cheeks showed, that was one that was sincere and not forced. The politeness that he was showing, the attempt to try and make conversation was causing her to feel conflicted on her purpose—more than anything, she just wanted to walk away, but they had to stand there and talk until their food had finished cooking.

Her lips curled into a frown as she replied quietly, "I said my friends call me that."

"Oh," Adrien exclaimed loudly, an awkward laugh escaping him as his hand went to the nape of his neck in the self-conscious way that she still recognised. "Okay, I guess I deserved that."

There was a beat of silence where she kept to herself, lips pursed together as she looked at him in confusion. There was no need to play a character for the camera; Adrien was already the most loved participants, and she was simply one that had started a rivalry with him, one that the public didn't quite understand—she was sure that even he had no idea why it had started.

Papillon chose that moment to speak. "Drop the flour on him," they instructed.

Her hands stilled from surprise. That—that was an awful idea. It took acting skills that she probably didn't have, and Adrien was just beside her, resting his elbows on the countertop as he watched her packing everything away. The only way she could complete the task was if she was to jostle herself or pretend to trip over, therefore causing the mess, and—

She didn't want to.

Hadn't she already caused a memorable scene with the nickname rebuttal? The other segments wouldn't have that detail in them, though she doubted that they had the participants spilling ingredients over each other.

"When do you ever have a decision, child?" the Kwami drawled, the question non-rhetorical.

Marinette stubbornly kept her hands on the countertop, not touching the bag that was in front of her. She knew that the extent of the supercomputer's control was locking her hands, refraining her from moving certain body parts, and causing pain. So, really, it wasn't as though they could physically control her and make her throw flour all over Adrien. It wasn't the fact that she'd get her dress messy, too, but the idea of it—she didn't want to attract attention due to negativity. The rivalry she'd made with Adrien due to petty reasons was already causing her to receive sufficient praise and attention.

Papillon, listening into her thoughts, chastised her in a bored tone, "Miss Cheng."

It was the closest they could get to being annoyed.

They—Papillon was okay, at times. Marinette had grown somewhat fond of the presence in her mind for the last seven months, steadily understanding the lack of sense of humour, sometimes wondering how the replies would be if they had a penchant for bad jokes. Yet, at that moment she was forced to remember the startling fact that bodily harm wasn't something that they considered bad. It was a form of training, punishment, and there would be no qualms or reluctant apologies afterwards from the Kwami.

As a throbbing feeling became apparent at the back of her head, warmth dripping and coating her throat, she clenched her eyes shut in protest, refusing to move. She wanted to make her own decisions, to do as she saw fit, but all she could do was stand there as though she was throwing a tantrum over a controlling parent, facial features twisting in pain as the throbs became worse, demanding and needy as they pulsed, her heartbeat audible in her pounding head.

"Marinette?" Adrien exclaimed, voice higher-pitched than usual as he scrambled beside her, and she didn't jump when a hand was placed on her shoulder, and cloth was hurriedly pressed underneath her nose.

She swallowed thickly as she squinted to look at him. Even through blurred vision, he was more panicked than before, visibly concerned as he held the bundled cloth to catch the falling blood from her nose, but all she could focus on was the pounding pain and rapid beating of her heart as she continued to defy the instructions she was given.

Marinette stubbornly kept her grip on the side, trying to stay upright despite the pain, but all she managed to do was lean forward, almost falling on top of the countertop as Adrien adjusted himself to try and stop the bleeding, still. She could hear the staff members talking, but the sounds were too distorted to make out as her eyes fell closed.

-x-

Well, her dress still got ruined, and the cookies burned.

A doctor had been called in, and once it was cleared as a nosebleed with no lingering illness, Marinette was allowed to return to practice the next day. She noticed other contestants giving her concerned looks—it had clearly circled around—and Caline even pulled her aside the following day, asking whether she was up to the task of performing. It wasn't as though she could say no; even if one of them caught a cold, they either had to sing or voluntarily leave the show. There was no forgiveness for special circumstances.

Papillon didn't reprimand her for the defiance, which meant that it had been a success in its own way. The video had still been uploaded, ending with her fainting on the side with Adrien fretting over her unconscious body, and the paragraph underneath updated viewers on her health (which was fine). From that segment stemmed a short clip of when her nosebleed began until she'd fainted, one that was receiving equal views to her group's last performance.

It was attention, at least. Papillon had to have been pleased with how it had turned out—she couldn't say she was, though.

Adrien was staring at her more than before. The looks were still curious, and when she caught him, he hastily turned away and started a conversation with someone else—so, to put it simply, she felt awkward in his presence. It wasn't as though she liked him again; she'd wanted to defy the orders given and that had resulted in his apparent interest in her. When their groups were together in the same room, he'd try and start conversations with her, and Marinette would reply with short answers and disinterest, trying her best to remove herself from the situation.

The rivalry was still there at the live show. The theme for the week was horror—which could have meant a lot of things, and Caline had made them choose between haunting ballads and lyrics that had disturbing meanings if taken literally—which meant they were walking around in monotone-coloured outfits, including suspenders for Adrien and Nathaniel.

When the blond-haired male walked off the stage, one hand was fiddling with a suspender while the other was raised to salute at her. It seemed to be his preferred way of starting a challenge, one that they never quite turned into a verbal competition.

Until that night, at least. When Marinette came off the stage, tugging up her socks that had started to fall down, Adrien wasn't sitting down with his group. Instead, he was holding a bottle of water and leaning against a wall as he waited, staff members ignoring him as they fluttered past.

Aurore whistled before she took the other two members of their group away with her, going to join the males that were seated, watching the screen to see the performances.

"Hey," Adrien greeted, awkwardly holding the bottle out for her. "You okay?"

It was a strange development. Marinette had grown used to the question during the week where they'd tried to make small talk—well, he had—but she hadn't quite expected it to happen after a performance. She was sweaty from the lights of the stage, clad in a tight outfit that wasn't too comfortable to move in, and he didn't seem at all pleased with his attire either.

She blinked. "Why?"

He looked conflicted for a moment before settling with, "I'm just worried you might faint on camera again."

It wasn't his concern, though. Marinette accepted the bottle of water with wary eyes, as if expecting an ulterior motive to pop up, but all he did was stand there awkwardly as she had a drink. The rest of their groups were focused on the screen that showed a montage of the next singer, and she was standing there, silently judging him.

In the end, it returned back to their short conversations in the two hour break, where instead of napping or reading as she usually did, Marinette found herself sitting by their two merged groups, playing a ridiculous card game that they'd been provided with. She laughed, and was able to communicate freely with everyone around, Papillon not forcing her to comply. The most they had done that evening was help her walk stiffly so she wouldn't fall in the high-heeled shoes that had been provided.

The first female soloist was eliminated that evening.

It was one less face in the dorms, the one that always managed to burn their bread in the morning. From living together, everyone had grown to prefer a specific mug—as they'd been provided with different patterned ones—and due to the lists, there was no personal claims over food, as it wasn't their individual money that had bought the items. As her and Adrien's groups were the only ones left, it meant that they were the only ones to use the non-gendered kitchen and living room, so they'd staked claims on mugs that were located there, too.

After dinner, Nino's suggestion of a watching a film found the eight of them scattered around on the various chairs. Marinette had managed to snag herself one of the comfortable beanbags, and she'd happily wrapped a blanket over herself despite the sweltering warmth that had been present in the afternoon.

She hadn't realised she was tired before someone was gently rocking her awake. Marinette jumped from surprise, bleary eyes opening, looking around the dim room, disorientated. She groaned as she pushed the blanket off and rubbed at her face, feeling sluggish and slow due to the sudden disruption, and back slightly aching due to the beanbag—as nice it had been to sit in, sleeping was on another level.

"Come on, you should go to your room." It was easy to recognise Adrien's voice after living together for five weeks.

She made a non-committal noise as she stood up and stretched. "Where is everyone?"

"They left before you woke up." He shrugged half-heartedly, taking the blanket that she'd passed aside and started to fold it as he continued to admit, "I asked them to leave us alone for a bit."

Well, as alone as they could be with cameras dotted on the walls. "Okay?" Marinette replied, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

Sure, they'd been somewhat nice to each other since the nosebleed incident; Marinette hadn't uttered any rude comments other than the usual short answers she supplied him with, and she wasn't adamantly avoiding his gaze when they were in the same room. She didn't stiffen up or clench her fists when she heard his voice, nor feel irritated when the polite smiles were sent her way—as it was, she could easily count on one hand the amount of times his smiles had been sincere when they were intended for her.

"So." He licked his lips. "You're not comfortable with me, and that's why you rejected us as a duet."

There was no point denying it. "Yes," Marinette confirmed, voice not cracking despite her rapid thoughts.

"And when I tried to talk to you before, you asked me if I remembered you." And for a brief moment, she wondered whether he was going to continue to monologue when she could've been walking past to get to her bed, before he quietly enquired, "Did I do something to you before?"

Marinette stared, trying to tell from his expression whether he was sincerely asking, or because he wanted to clear the awkward air between them. There wasn't much of a downside to their rivalry; Marinette wasn't immature enough to sabotage his performances, and there was no violent aspect of their relationship, let alone verbal abuse. The height of her negativity consisted of smug expressions and raised eyebrows, which he readily returned each week.

"Yes," she admitted quietly, staring up at him as she fiddled with her shirt. "Years ago."

She watched as he swallowed.

Taking in a deep breath, realising that he wasn't going to answer and simply stare at her with a perplexed expression that didn't belong on his face, the dark-haired female continued and asked, "And you don't even know what it was, do you?"

His reply was barely audible. "No."

"I know." Her smile wasn't sincere; it didn't reach her eyes, nor did it curl in the pleasant way it did when she was amused. It seemed almost self-deprecating. "You didn't know me back then, but I cared enough about your opinion to have it hurt me."

Watching as his chest moved as he took in a deliberately slow breath, Adrien questioned softly, "What did I do? I—I don't know you, Marinette."

"No, you don't," she agreed easily. "You probably never noticed me because I wasn't worth your time when I was younger."

"Younger," he repeated. "How much younger?"

Purposely tilting her head to the side, Marinette stared up at him as she let out a humourless laugh. "What would be the point in telling you?" she asked rhetorically. "You can't take back what you did, and I don't want to dwell on the past; any apology you give me wouldn't be sincere since you don't remember. I'm here to win, and watching you inevitably lose is just a bonus."

When she'd started to walk away, footsteps filling the silence in the room, he called out to her with, "Marinette, wait!"

Her footsteps didn't falter.

Adrien continued to try approach her. Whether it was in the hallways, during their lunch breaks or even in the evenings when she walked past to go practise by herself, he either smiled at her purposely—that actually showed his dimples, which put her off even more—or started the conversation by telling her a terrible joke that only cause her to stare at him blankly. Rather than the small talk that he'd tried in the past, the blond-haired male had advanced onto addressing her as though they were friends by skipping the greeting and usual questions, catching her by surprise with the silly comments that left him.

It wasn't long before others took notice. Lila in particular laughed about the sudden interest, teasing her when they were in their bedroom. Marinette had resorted to throwing her pillow at her to make her be quiet, but all it did was cause the brunette to cackle further.

When Adrien called her name out when their groups were together in the studio, waiting for their coaches to arrive, there was raised eyebrows all around from the interaction, even more so when answered quietly.

"I can tell him to back off, if you're uncomfortable," Aurore remarked when they'd split off into their separate rooms. She was tying her long hair into a ponytail, awaiting the choreographer (Caline was still a fan of dancing, no matter how small, in their performances). At the blank look she received, the blonde continued, "Adrien?"

She scowled. "Oh."

"Oh," Aurore mimicked, stretching in front of the mirrors. They'd become accustomed to ignoring the camera in the corner of the room, deciding it was better to not acknowledge it when they were practising. "It's ridiculously clear that you don't want to talk to him."

Copying the blonde's movements, Marinette admitted, "Well, not really." Her eyes flickered to the side, confirming that Lila and Juleka were helping each other on the other side, chatting away. "He doesn't remember, but he was a dick a few years ago."

"You two knew each other before this?" she questioned, audibly confused.

"Yes." She shrugged, as though it wasn't a big deal. "We went to school together."

Aurore audibly hummed in contemplation. "So, he was a jerk to you back in school?" There was a moment where only the other two's chatter filled the silence before Aurore looked up in realisation, blue-coloured eyes wide. "That's why you said no to him."

A fleeting thought of wondering whether it was wise to disclose her past appeared. Marinette tucked the stray hairs behind her ears as she admitted, "Yes. I—I just didn't want to be in a group with him, that's all."

"Fucking hell." A loud laugh escaped the blonde-haired female, and it was slightly breathy and high-pitched. "You two would've been fucking unstoppable if you paired up, you do know that, right?"

Rather, they would've been known because of his popularity. It was the same situation that the other members of his group were in. "I guess," she admitted begrudgingly. "I much prefer being with you guys. We haven't been in the bottom two yet, so we still have a chance at winning."

Aurore snorted. "Yeah, sure," she agreed sarcastically. "It'll take a miracle for attention to shift our way from wonder boy. It just bugs me that he's so freaking nice. I want to hate him, Marinette, I really do."

"Nice?" she questioned with a laugh.

Stopping her stretching to emphasis her words with her hands, Aurore enthusiastically retorted, "Yes! How am I supposed to compete with him when he just smiles and causes half of the audience to swoon? Then, when he wanders backstage, he's just polite and friendly to everyone, cheering up anyone who thinks they botched up their performance."

"He's always been like that," Marinette replied, stretching her legs. "He was popular in school because of that, I think. I never really listened in to the gossip to know whether he had a rebellious stage, so it's possible he's been wonder boy for years."

The blonde stood up straight, eyebrows furrowed as she turned to look at her and questioned, "So, a popular kid picked on you?"

She blinked. "I—no."

"You said he was a jerk to you, though," Aurore pointed out, voice quiet so it wouldn't carry across the room. "What did you mean, then? I really don't want to tell Nino that you really are the mysterious member."

A laugh escaped her at the mention of Nino. She'd grown closer to the other contestants through the weeks, and she'd wondered whether that title had disappeared once she'd started smiling more, and being less awkward. Marinette shook her head, but their conversation was cut short as their choreographer walked in the room.

As it turned out, they didn't need a miracle for attention to be turned away from Adrien—all that had to happen was for Marinette to have a nosebleed in the previous week's segment. She was astounded when Caline told them that they'd won the selection, and that was how the four of them found themselves in the allocated kitchen together, no sign of Adrien in sight. Although they weren't told how many had voted for them, similar to the live shows, it was an honour to be accepted at all.

Lila was firmly told to only cut ingredients, and she made no protests.

There was banter and good-hearted jokes while they cooked, and inside jokes that they'd acquired from their time together. It was clear that they were comfortable, especially as Marinette bumped her hip against Juleka's to move her aside to reach into a cupboard. The questions were mostly directed at each of them individually, questioning their favourite genre of music, films, and other such topics that the viewers had sent in.

It was Alya that was reading them out again, spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose again. "Marinette," the red-head called, catching her attention from where she was stirring on the stove. "Any chance of Adrien calling you Mari in the future?"

Heat flooded to her cheeks as she mumbled, "Not likely."

Lila chose that moment to quip, "Hey, Mari. You got some sauce on your shirt."

There wasn't any. The smug smile on the brunette's lips proved the point she was trying to make, and Marinette fondly rolled her eyes in return.

As that week's theme for the show was power ballads, Marinette was the lead vocal for the first time. She was excited and pleased all at once, happy with their progress and ability to blend their voices together better with each practice, so it was with a smile that she accepted the formal clothing that the stylists gave her, pleased with the collar and the ribbon around her neck. It was close to the normal style that she chose to wear in her free time, with the exception of the high-heeled shoes that Caline was slowly integrating in with their non-upbeat performances (as there would be less dancing).

Nino had the nerve to ruffle her hair, and that had made her have to return to the stylist's hair and have it completely redone. He didn't look at all sorry, instead grinning widely and showing his teeth as he waved from across the room.

Marinette pointedly glared in his direction.

After the performance, when her fringe was sticking to her sweaty forehead and her heart was beating madly from a mixture of excitement and adrenaline, her look in Adrien's direction was with a wide smile, rather than the smug expression that she usually had.

The bafflement that showed on his face seemed worth it as she passed.

She theorised that he'd been trying to make up for the past—that he was unaware of, still, and it seemed that Aurore was keeping that information to herself—with his natural friendliness, no resentment or spite clear whenever he approached, and that had only caused her to back away more. Having someone dislike him wasn't something he seemed used to; the other contestants were pleasant, even when his popularity was glaringly blatant.

They could've been friends, she'd concluded sometime ago. If her squashed pride from her teenage years hadn't been taken into account, or if they hadn't attended the same school at all, she would've found him easy to get along with. There was nothing abrasive about his personality from what she'd seen; he was polite to a fault, not afraid of confrontation, and preferred to spend his time with positivity, rather than dwelling on the negative.

When he came backstage after his own performance, he sought her out with a returning smile that reached his eyes.

She shifted in her seat as the four males approached their seating area, their routine of waiting together before they were allowed elsewhere for the two hour break still in tact.

"This is mad," Ivan announced softly as he sat down, raking his hands through his hair. The dyed blond patch was still there at the front, and he'd grown reluctantly fond of it. "We got three compliments."

Juleka pointed out, "Armand likes you, though."

"Armand likes anyone that doesn't toss their hair around mid-performance," Nino pointed out, slouching back and looking far more comfortable than the formal clothing did. "Maybe if you girls had shorter hair, then he'd start singing your praises."

Marinette pulled a face. "No, thank you."

"Not a fan of it?" Lila questioned beside her, placing a gentle hand on top of Marinette's head—the difference between her and Nino's touch was astounding, and there was certainly no ruffling. "I think you'd look pretty cute with it cut short."

Resisting the urge to reach up and touch it herself, the dark-haired female settled with shaking her head, knocking Lila's hand off in the process. "I used to have it short when I was younger, and got mistaken for boy a lot. It was quite frustrating, really."

"Oh, kids are cruel," Aurore pitched in. "No wonder you said no when they wanted you to go shorter at the beginning."

She sniffed. "I'll risk Armand's ire and keep my flowing locks, thank you."

For being comfortable and relaxing too much, despite the compliments from the judges, when the break was over, Marinette found herself in the bottom two. They were left on the stage as all the contestants apart from a female soloist exited backstage, and her eyes were wide as she looked around to see the darkened figures of the audience, unsure on what to focus on. Lila had already burst into tears beside her—not even trying to hide the dramatic sniffs as she wiped her tears on her hands—and Marinette's hands were cold, heart racing as she wondered where they'd gone wrong.

"There is no need to fret, child," Papillon drawled, not a reassuring presence at that moment. "Eighty percent of the comments about your performance were positive, and there's a large margin between the votes."

She stiffened. Did that—had Papillon just confessed to checking the results beforehand? They had never done that before, not bothering to clue her in on which act was set to leave from the public's opinions.

"It is astounding how your opinion of me differs depending on the situation, Miss Cheng." They sounded as pleased as ever, a bored voice that should've been robotic in her head. "If your future was in danger, it would be acceptable for me to interfere."

That sounded a lot like they were telling her that they'd cheat the competition in the future to make her win. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought, and her eyes had fallen to stare at the floor as she pondered the revelations that had appeared. If—if Papillon was capable of such things, and didn't have the emotions to make them feel guilty about it, then could they have already interfered?

Aurore suddenly embracing her brought her out of her thoughts. Marinette was visibly startled as she jumped, head whipping around, confused, as she tried to determine what she had missed. From the way the spotlight was on Nadja and the soloist instead of them, she assumed that they'd succeeded and were set to stay for another week.

Yet, she felt guilty.

"I did not change the results," the Kwami pointed out. "If you were eliminated, it would've thwarted the future plans I've made, and therefore compromised your future and your—" Papillon paused for a moment, for what could've been for dramatic reasons. "And your happiness, too."

It was either their words that caused her to tear up, or the tight embraces she received when she was backstage. To her surprise, Nino and Nathaniel had hugged each of them briefly as well, proving that they would've been missed if the elimination had happened.

As it was, each judge had two contestants left. Four shows remained and they'd been warned that towards the end of the show, there would be recorded segments to play between the acts—to fill the time that had been lost from the evicted singers—and that meant that they were going to delve into their private life and friendships at the dorms, to show the public who they were voting for more clearly since there were few remaining.

She wondered whether her mother's friends, or their relatives, had looked on the television to see her; whether the kind neighbours that had encouraged her growing up had seen what she'd blossomed into, and for a brief moment as she wiped her tears, she pondered if Chloé would've been pleased for her.

"Hey," Adrien greeted her, offering tissues with an awkward smile.

A laugh escaped her at how uncomfortable he looked. He was standing before her in the same formal-looking outfit, shifting on the spot as though he was unsure on how to comfort her. Marinette accepted the tissues and tried to clean herself up, though she probably only smeared the make-up further.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you."

Standing there in front of her, Marinette watched as he opened his mouth before closing it silently a few times, clearly fumbling for words while she tried to clean up her appearance. The cameras were off for the meantime, no they weren't being recorded backstage, yet he'd still approached her. Perhaps it was the guilt from her implying that she'd been wronged by him in the past, or the antagonistic attitude she'd had with him for the past few weeks, but all of it at once seemed exhausting at that moment.

She was just someone that was trying to make it through a survival show, and purposely having a negative relationship with someone was quite taxing, especially for her emotions. And with that thought, her hands stiffened around the tissues that he'd given her as she came to the realisation that she didn't want to do it any more—she didn't want to cling to her childish pride for a personality, nor focus on the irritating events that had happened in her life.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, face heating up immediately.

He looked dumbfounded. "What?"

"I'm sorry," the dark-haired female babbled, hand holding the scrunched up tissue waving around to emphasise her words, a habit that appeared whenever she was nervous. "I—I've been pretty unfair to you, and I know that it's been annoying for you."

Adrien stared at her, as though determining whether she was sincere or not, and as she shifted awkwardly on the spot, he replied softly, "I wouldn't quite put it that way."

She blinked.

"As annoying, I mean," the male explained, shrugging half-heartedly, "I'd call it more confusing?"

"Oh, right," Marinette agreed easily, reaching up to tuck the loose hairs behind her ears. "Okay."

It was then, as she watched him not knowing how to reply further than that, that she realised that Papillon hadn't intervened. They had threatening that they'd stop any unnecessary friendships that would harm her success, advising her to antagonise Adrien, and yet when her thoughts of apology and regret about her actions had appeared, there hadn't been a single comment in her head preventing her from doing so. There was no control over her limbs, no painful sensations from disobeying—which meant that, somehow, she'd gained the approval of her intentions without knowing.

Adrien's lips parted to enquire quietly, "Are you still uncomfortable with me?"

It sounded self-conscious and shy all at once, tone more suited to one that came from her rather than the confident figure that he was during the week.

"No." She shook her head, hands fiddling with the tissues once more. "I—I haven't been for a few weeks, if I'm being honest."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "You're not going to have a nosebleed when you're alone with me again, right?"

As long as she had the permission of her Kwami, she wouldn't. "I hope not." She smiled weakly. "It wasn't exactly nice to wake up to a doctor hovering over me."

"That's not your kind of fantasy, then?"

A loud and abrupt laugh escaped her, and she quickly covered her mouth, horrified as curious eyes flickered their way. Adrien's grin was wide and showed his teeth as she looked over to him, not at all regretful that they'd possibly annoyed the staff that were cleaning up the backstage. They'd already outstayed their welcome after the show, as they were usually ushered off back to the dorms after the eliminations, as it was already dark outside.

-x-

Papillon explained when they were alone that there was no negative side to her relationship improving with Adrien. Well, rather, they'd stated that by their calculations, it would propel her popularity further on the internet, especially when it became clear that the rivalry had turned friendlier than it had before.

With the blessing in place, and the sourness of her teenage self shoved to the side after she'd uttered her apology, Marinette found herself able to smile freely, laugh at any of the jokes that the other contestants uttered, and generally be allowed to enjoy herself without limitations. When Adrien was paired with her for cooking their weekly meal for their groups, she didn't utter any complaints. Even when they received curious looks from their other members, and raised eyebrows as there hadn't been any arguments or silence as they worked together, Marinette didn't feel forced or awkward.

It was nice, actually. Papillon relayed the statistics of the previous show's episode, the popular performances, and opinions about the contestants; it was all information that she alone had, as the rest of the occupants in the dorms were highly limited with their internet searches, and even their phone calls that came through the phones provided to them were monitored. As such, Marinette knew that one of the male soloists had a video of himself online from when he was performing in primary school, one that was being mocked by the internet for his poor performance.

Adrien had started a new habit, too. When they walked past each other between practises, or even in the hallways of the dorms when they were going in different directions had didn't have time to stop, he'd remark that he was sorry, and leave it at that.

She didn't know whether to laugh or not.

When he did it again, after dance practice where her sweaty hair was contained in a ponytail other than the annoying bangs that fell out of her clips, Marinette reached out and caught onto his shoulder to stop him from walking away.

As he turned around to look at her with raised eyebrows, she pointed out with a grumble, "I said I didn't want an insincere apology."

"Well," he started, looking pleased despite the chastisement. "This was the only way I could think you getting you to bring it up yourself."

She stared at him incredulously. "By annoying me?"

"It's a talent of mine, apparently." The blond-haired male waved a hand dismissively as she removed her own from his shirt. "So, on a scale of one to ten, how much of a dick was I to you?"

At least he wasn't attempting to deny it. "At the time, it was a ten," Marinette answered honestly. "It's about a three now, since adults are much worse with their rudeness."

"Okay," Adrien accepted. "That meant we were definitely a lot younger, like you said before."

She squinted. "I guess."

"What an ambiguous answer." He huffed out a laugh. "I'm assuming this was in person, too?"

With a nod, she confirmed that.

"I didn't spill a drink on you or something, did I?" Adrien questioned, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked at her thoughtfully. "That seems like a ten at the time, and I'd probably hold a grudge if they didn't apologise."

She snorted. "No."

With a hum, Adrien took his time before he responded with, "Okay, so, young and in person. I can't think of much that could've happened unless I bumped into you randomly? I wasn't allowed out much as a kid because of strict parenting."

"Teenagers, not kids."

He grinned. "Teenagers are kids."

Before they could continue, he was called away by Nino's loud voice, interrupting them to say that his group were expected elsewhere. It was understandable; Marinette was due to check in with Caline before they were allowed to practice alone, as their choreographer had departed for the day.

When she was present with her group in front of their red-haired mentor, her eyes grew wide in disbelief when she was informed that she'd been voted for again to cook in the segment with Adrien. The previous week's select of her group only had given her a confidence boost until she'd found herself in the bottom two, yet the selection had her feeling uneasy despite the honour of being chosen.

Alya greeted her the next day with a microphone to clip onto her clothing, and witty comments about her co-worker that was lurking in the corner, arms crossed with a grumpy expression as they kept lookout for other contestants. Marinette didn't feel as awkward in front of the camera as she did before, though she did feel nervous due to the lack of interference from Papillon. The Kwami had been quiet about her decisions since the apology, not controlling her actions at all.

"Hey, Mari," Adrien greeted her as they were directed to stand together.

She didn't correct his usage of the name. "Hi."

"Any preferences this week?" he asked, gesturing around to the different equipment that had been placed on the countertops for them.

After some debate, they decided to make a savoury recipe of his choice. The conversation wasn't as forced or awkward as it had been before, and Marinette found herself smothering her laughter in her hands when he dropped their food onto the floor by accident, missing the plate with a distraught noise. The questions they'd been asked were generic, questioning their opinions on performances, and asking how devastated Marinette had been to find herself in the bottom two. They weren't questioned on their relationship, though she didn't doubt that there had been enquiries sent in.

"So, now that the cameras are gone," Adrien started smoothly once Alya had disappeared through the doors, departing after the segment was finished. "Is it safe to ask about our dark past?"

She tried not to smile. "As long as you never refer to it as that again."

"Our dramatic backstory, then," he quipped, smiling.

"No."

He held his hands up in a sign of surrender. "The time of our teenage woes."

"I take back my apology," Marinette deadpanned.

With a laugh, the blond-haired male protested, "You can't do that!"

"I can when you're insufferable," she replied easily, allowing herself to grin at his dramatically hurt expression. "We went to school together, Adrien."

His expression morphed into a genuine one of surprise, complete with parted lips. "What?"

"We didn't have share classes, if that's what you're going to ask," she pointed out quickly, reaching up to scratch her cheek self-consciously from the stare that she was receiving. "You were pretty rude to me one time, then we never actually spoke again—I recognised you when we were asked to work together, so, that's why I rejected you."

With furrowed eyebrows, Adrien enquired, "Are you sure?"

"Yes?" She tilted her head slightly as her hand dropped. "If you're asking if I know if it was you, then, yes, definitely; you haven't changed that much, other than growing into your body."

"Not what I meant." He shook his head, making his bangs become misplaced and fall into his eyes briefly, and he raised a hand to brush them out of the way, fingers going to his nape to fiddle with the hairs there in a uncertain way. "I just—I would've recognised you."

That caused her to look at him, confused. "Why?"

"You're—you," the blond explained lamely, gesturing towards her, as though that explained everything he was trying to say.

"...Yes?"

With a frustrated noise, his hands dropped to his side. "I—you've got a distinctive look about you?" It sounded like a question.

She narrowed her eyes. "I hope you're not trying to be offensive there."

Colour flooded his cheeks as he quickly protested, "I meant you're attractive, Marinette!"

"Oh," she replied dumbly, surprised from the confession. "Thanks?"

"You're welcome." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes looking anywhere but at her as the tops of his cheeks were tinged red. "I'm horribly embarrassed, so I'm going to walk away now, okay?" And without waiting for a reply, Adrien started to do just that as he repeated, "Okay."

The laughter that escaped her only made him walk faster.

It was a compliment, definitely. Gone were the days of her having to patch up old clothing, stuck with cheap shampoo that left her hair feeling brittle, and her healthy diet had improved her figure significantly as she grew up. Marinette imagined that if her old school-mates were to see her at that moment, to share at her on television and recognise that she was able to take care of herself, then she felt the right to smile smugly as she smoothed out the material of her clothes as she walked.

It hadn't been the transformation of an ugly girl blossoming into a beauty like in fiction; Marinette had received compliments when she was younger on her cute face, especially her nose when she was first going to school, and it had only been a matter of quality of clothing and shopping that they'd bought over the years, including the food, and even cleaning supplies.

Her mother was much the same, which made pride swell up in her chest when her mother returned home occasionally over the years, cheeks flushed as she explained that she'd been asked on a date, or complimented for her appearance. It was nice to see her mother happy, even more so from knowing that it was her that was able to provide for them, though she had never resented her mother for their previous living situation—she had looked after her to the best of her ability from the constant jobs, and the limited money from a single parent household.

It wouldn't been different if her father would've been alive. When she was younger, Marinette had fantasised about how strange the life would've been; from the glasses without chips in them, to the high-quality television, or cell phone, that her class-mates had gushed about in their free time.

It wasn't a perfect life she was living, but it was hers. Marinette was happy with how it had turned out, proud that she was able to pursue her ambitious curiosity to see whether she could get anywhere singing, rather than following the teacher's advice and continuing her education.

And then, Papillon had happened.

When she was in her bedroom—Lila busy watching a film with Aurore, so she wouldn't be back for another hour—clad in the pyjamas that were suitable for walking to get a drink if she was thirsty, Marinette pulled a pillow to her chest as she contemplated the position that she was placed into.

"Papillon?" she called, voice soft and almost muffled by the fabric against her face. "You've been... quiet lately."

There wasn't a moment of silence before they answered steadily, "I am at my intended volume consistently."

The laughter that escaped her was quiet due to the pillow, though. "That's not what I meant! You're not making your opinions on my relationships known."

"I do not possess opinions, Miss Cheng." And if it was anyone else, it would've sounded like a joke. "I am simply re-evaluating my programming."

That didn't sound ominous at all. Marinette's brow knitted together as she pondered the possibilities, wondering whether the Kwami was able to receive updates from the safety of her brain, especially since they were able to access the internet and collect information that wasn't there before it had been created.

So, on a whim, she questioned, "Why?"

That time, there was silence while she awaited the reply. Marinette grew increasingly confused due to the late answer, a feat that she wasn't used to due to the supercomputer's usually prompt interactions. There had never been a time when she had to wait for too long; when she requested information about the weather, it was a matter of moments before she was told the answer—and sometimes more than she asked for, and definitely more than she could read—and yet, she was sat there in the eerie silence that she hadn't experienced with a conversation with herself since before the pill had entered her body.

"Papillon?" she called, worry seeping into her voice.

When they replied, there was still no tone to their words as they stated, "I am calibrating myself to understand your concept of happiness to a higher level."

Her breath caught. "I—I thought you didn't care about my happiness."

"I do not have feelings," the Kwami promptly pointed out, voice blank and unwelcoming all at once. "From research and listening to your internal thoughts, I have become aware of faults in my programming that I am attempting to rectify swiftly."

It—it was more than she could've hoped for months ago. "Why does it matter now?" the dark-haired female enquired in a whisper, closing her eyes as she leaned against the fabric. "It doesn't change your orders if I disagree with you."

"You disobeying my advice succeeded before, resulting in a better result than I had calculated," Papillon drawled, not sounding as though they were pained to admit they were wrong—Marinette knew that as a computer, it couldn't have been easy to realise that there was a fault in their system, no matter how small due to the limited self-awareness. "It made me... wonder."

Inaudibly, she mouthed to herself, "Wonder."

And that was fascinating. Computers weren't made to wonder; Papillon's sole function was to improve her life without taking in petty human feelings into account, and yet in their time together, she'd somehow made them doubt their programming due to her stubbornness. She'd never anticipated that it would happen, nor did she know what to expect from the sudden change.

"It is the term that seemed most fitting," the Kwami continued, not bothered from her surprise. "I have been freely observing your interactions for the past few days, and I will compare the results once the public have viewed the newest episode."

It was a trial, then.

With that in mind, Marinette worked hard in practice, accepting the advice and pointers there were given to her, harmonising with Aurore's voice that was deemed to be the most fitting for their upcoming song, and she was sluggishly tired when the two groups sat down in the non-gendered kitchen to eat dinner together. Thankfully, she wasn't picked.

Adrien was still embarrassed from their last interaction, and she learned that when he was teased—and therefore further embarrassed—the tops of his ears grew red to match his cheeks.

The theme for that week was disco, and the stage was complete with a shining ball that glittered during the performances. Adrien's group went before hers, and rather than the smug smile or salute that was sent her way, he simply grinned, his cheeks reaching his eyes as he did so.

She returned it.

After wiping her sweaty hair away from her face, laughing at a ridiculous joke that Lila had made as they stumbled backstage, Marinette sought the blond-haired male out on instinct, raising a hand to wave at him with a smile as she carefully passed the microphone over to a member of staff (after the incident with Nino, the contestants that had seen it happened were more than happy to mock him for it, even more so since Alya was holding a grudge against him for it).

Marinette sat down next to him as they watched the ongoing performances, happily accepting half of the blanket that he'd acquired, as the others were doing the same.

"Thanks," she whispered, bunching it up in her hands to get comfortable.

The smile she got in return looked sleepy.

She wasn't in the bottom two, and Adrien's group had never been near it, from what she knew. Papillon hadn't ever revealed the full rankings, or the correct ones other than who was most voted for, so it wasn't a surprise to know that the brother group to hers had passed. Marinette's heart was beating loudly when she walked off stage, relieved with grateful tears filling her eyes as she accepted the hugs that were given—even Ivan came forward and gave each of them a squeeze, happy that they'd gotten through.

When Adrien opened his arms out to her with a sheepish expression, she'd laughed loudly and shook her head before accepting it.

There had never been any malice to his words since they'd met each other again; although he didn't remember her, and hadn't even pestered her about it since her reveal, she wondered whether it bothered him at all. There was no resentment she held towards him still, though the reminder of the nosebleed she'd had to endure was still fresh.

The fact that Papillon hadn't threatened bodily harm in a week was wonderful.

A female soloist was eliminated, while the other one had been in the bottom two, too.

-x-

At the start of the following week, Marinette walked to the studio with a knitted hat covering her ears to protect her from the suddenly cold morning. With the elimination, it was her group and one soloist left in their dorm, meaning it was becoming increasingly quiet and sparse as time passed. The boys' dorm wasn't doing much better, as they only had one more occupant than theirs.

It was strange to see the faces she'd come to know leave, but it meant that she was doing something right—that her group was. With every empty bed, it was a success and a compliment all at once, no matter how odd and out of place it felt. Marinette wondered whether the soloists that had shared bedrooms together had felt lonely when their room-mate had disappeared.

"Morning," Marinette greeted Ivan, who was leaning against the wall outside of their designated room to meet Caline first, where the red-haired female would usually announce the show's theme that week before dismissing them into separate rooms. "Where's everyone?"

He shifted his feet. "Getting some water for everyone since Caline told us to wait an additional half an hour."

"What?" she questioned.

Gesturing to the door, the wide-shouldered male continued and explained, "She went inside and locked the door after that, so I'm assuming it's something secretive inside for us to see."

Her curiosity was piqued.

As he'd said, the rest of their group-mates returned a few moments later, with plastic water bottles hoarded in their arms. Lila happily passed them over since they were cold to touch, apparently, and Marinette had to fumble and try to keep them in her arms as the brunette stretched out her arms without a care.

She scowled. "Thanks for that."

"I'm a good person," Lila retorted, tying her hair up in preparation. "You called me weak for complaining about the cold last night, so you can deal with this."

Narrowing her eyes, Marinette pointed out, "You're not even wearing a jacket."

"That's because my shirt clashes with the only warm jacket I brought along." Lila shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll regret your hat when you take it off later, and everyone starts to mock your hair."

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out.

Any retaliation was interrupted by the noise of the door unlocking, and it seemed that they all turned to stare at the moving handle in synchronisation, awaiting the figure of their mentor stepping aside to welcome them in.

"Hello, guys," Caline greeted, red-stained lips curling into a friendly smile that they'd become accustomed to. Yet she didn't stand aside, instead staying rooted in the middle of the doorway so no one could advance. "A quick piece of advice for today—there's actual cameramen here, so try not to embarrass yourselves too much."

That didn't sound reassuring at all. There had never been cameramen present for their weekly induction, nor for their practices during the day; they only saw them for the weekly segment, and the live stages each weekend.

With a gulp, Marinette watched as Caline opened the door wide and walked back inside, high-heeled shoes clicking as she moved. Glancing at Lila beside her with raised eyebrows, it was Nino that walked into the room first, an awkward whistle escaping him as he tried to relieve the nervous atmosphere that had appeared around them.

Rather than the single chair that Caline sat in, there was a lot more, enough for the eight of them to sit down, and one more. Marinette had barely had time to take in that information before she caught sight of a hulking figure and a female lurking in a corner, with their backs to them so their weren't recognisable immediately.

It was clear that that was why the door was locked, though.

"So," Caline began as she sat down, elegantly perching one thigh upon the other with grace, "I'm sure you've noticed our newcomers."

A murmur passed between them.

"Armand and Penny are having similar interactions right now, rest assured that you're not being unfairly spoiled." She grinned. "Why don't I let my friend introduce herself, yes?"

And with that said, the red-head turned her head towards the corner with a smile, and the rest of them followed suit.

Her stomach lurched as she caught sight of the blonde-coloured hair.

There was no mistaking it as she turned around, the long strands tossed over her shoulder effortlessly as she approached, no spectacularly intimidating noise from high-heeled shoes as she moved, not the sounds that she'd always associated with her. Instead, Chloé walked across the room with her head held high, clad in tight jeans and a blouse that she'd always remarked was too transparent in the light.

Marinette felt sick.

She was sure that there was a visible reaction on her face, but the ones seated around her were too busy gasping and whispering excitedly to each other, not paying enough attention to notice the way Marinette folded her arms around her stomach in a way to comfort yourself.

"I'm Chloé, in case you've been living under a rock," she introduced herself, coming to stand a metre away, promptly ignoring the cameraman in the corner that was capturing everything. There was no pointed wink at the camera, nor a sultry smile that she was known for; instead, her blue-coloured eyes were darting between each of them, growing increasingly amused as she did so. "Apparently, I'm capable of giving you lot some advice."

Aurore, one that never had much tact, blurted out as she raised her hand, "I'm a huge fan!"

"As you should be." Chloé grinned widely, looking predatory as her gaze flickered from Aurore to fall onto Marinette. "We'll get onto singing about my achievements in a moment, if you can wait."

As the blonde-haired female's feet came to stand in front of her, Marinette averted her eyes to stare adamantly at the floor, focusing on the boots that she'd once asked Chloé to wear instead of the usual high-heeled shoes. Her stomach clenched and she audibly swallowed, utterly unsure whether it would be forgivable to acknowledge Chloé more than anyone else had.

Her conflict was ruined by Chloé interrupting her with a scoff and the pointed comment of, "Oh, stop being ridiculous."

She leaned back in surprise, wide eyes flickering up to see the sincere smile that was sent her way before Chloé moved forward, wrapping her arms around Marinette despite the fact that she was sitting, and the blonde was standing.

"Marinette," Chloé called loudly, sounding amused and displeased all at once. "If you don't hug me in one minute, I will hurt you."

Her eyes felt hot as she wrapped her arms around Chloé's waist.