The city moves with its usual vibrancy as evening settles in. Lights flicker on in cafés, and the Seine reflects the fiery hues of the sunset. But hidden in the labyrinth of alleys, an ominous presence stalks the night, unnoticed by the countless souls who fill the boulevards. The air feels heavier, as if warning of a predator on the prowl.
Ladybug perches atop a chimney, her eyes scanning the skyline for signs of trouble. She feels a chill pass over her, a strange sensation that something is not right. Before she can react, a shadowy figure emerges, swift as a striking serpent, binding her in place with ropes conjured from the darkness. The moonlight glints off the figure’s sharp features as it steps forward, its intent clear and menacing.
The Cannibal, cloaked in rags and malice, stands over Ladybug, who struggles helplessly against her bonds. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and fear, the only sounds her labored breathing and the slow, deliberate movements of her captor. The Cannibal circles her, eyes gleaming with hunger, as he begins to prepare the chamber for his grim feast.
Ladybug is hoisted above the fire, her costume torn and her strength waning. Sweat beads on her forehead as the heat intensifies, and she spins slowly, the world blurring around her. Tears streak her cheeks as she whispers, "Please, someone help me… Adrien, anyone…"
The Cannibal watches impassively, his hunger evident, as he occasionally bastes his captive with oil. Ladybug bites back sobs, her hope fading with each painful rotation. The firelight dances on the walls, mocking her agony, as her cries become softer—nearly lost in the roar of the flames.
The Cannibal sits beside the remains of the fire, tearing into what is left of Ladybug with slow, methodical bites. The chamber is eerily quiet, the only sound the crunch of bone and the cannibal’s satisfied sighs. Outside, Paris sleeps on, unaware of the horror that unfolded beneath its streets.
