The afternoon sun poured through the glass dome, spilling gold across the small second-floor sitting room, turning the floating dust motes into tiny stars.
Downstairs, the servants scrambled to prepare for Grandmama’s dinner party, their footsteps a constant drumbeat against the marble floors.
But up here, in this little sanctuary, time seemed to have pressed pause.
The only movement came from the soft breeze stirred by a twirling skirt.
“Kevin, which dress do you think looks best?” Fru Fru stood atop a round table draped in soft velvet, as confident as a fairy perched on a cream-filled pastry.
She pinched the edges of her skirt and spun, and the pale pink fabric billowed outward like a flower unfurling in the dew.
Behind her, two fancy rats worked in tandem, tugging a line of miniature outfits along the tabletop.
Further back, a fitting room no bigger than a cat carrier stood waiting, its tiny curtain embroidered with silver stars.
One rat had broken formation, its little paws trembling as it clutched a velvet jewelry box.
The box was no bigger than a matchbox, but it was heavy, heavy enough that the rat’s tongue lolled out, pink and panting, as it staggered forward.
Fru Fru flicked her wrist.
The rat obediently nudged the lid open with its nose.
A cascade of jeweled rings spilled into view, rows upon rows, from tiny bands to small, in every color of the rainbow.
Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, all nestled in velvet like a dragon’s treasure.
Little Fru Fru was barely six years old, yet ten chubby fingers already bore two rings with great ceremony: one cornflower blue, one cherry red.
She tilted her chin up like a little empress, then hopped onto her tiptoes and broke into a clumsy, joyful dance across the tabletop, her skirt swirling, her eyes bright as she waited for Kevin’s verdict.
“Hmm.
Adorable.” Kevin didn’t hold back.
He rested his chin on his palm, his gaze warm with genuine fondness.
“I don’t think there’s a dress in the world that wouldn’t look cute on you, Fru Fru.” “Aww, thank you, Kevin!” Fru Fru giggled, spinning faster, a little robin drunk on happiness.
After a moment, she stopped and cocked her head toward the door.
“Where’s Grandmama?” “Grandmama’s getting on in years,” Kevin said, picking up the jewelry box and pulling a magnifying glass from his coat pocket to study the gems’ clarity.
“She needs her rest.
She’s the guest of honor tonight, you know, she’ll need all her energy for the banquet.
Let her sleep while she can.” Fru Fru’s lower lip began to poke out.
Kevin reached over and ruffled her hair.
“Don’t worry.
When she wakes up, she’s going to love your dress.” “Of course she will!” The little chin shot up again, the momentary worry evaporating into pure confidence.
They played a while longer, Fru Fru trying on dress after dress, Kevin offering his honest (and always flattering) opinions, until a soft knock came at the door.
Raymond poked his head in.
“There are guests downstairs.
Mr.
Big wants you there too.” Kevin nodded.
He grabbed the remote and flipped on a cartoon, a bouncing rabbit that immediately captivated Fru Fru’s attention, then straightened her slightly crooked bow hairclip.
“Be good and watch your show, alright?
Raymond will stay with you.
I’ll go greet the guests and be right back.” Fru Fru waved her ring-laden hand without looking away from the screen, already lost in the world of dancing animals.
Kevin rose, gave Raymond a few quiet instructions, adjusted his collar, and made his way downstairs.
The moment he stepped into the corridor outside the parlor, a strange scent hit him, expensive cologne layered over something muskier.
Fur.
The distinct, unmistakable smell of a cat.
Kevin’s step faltered for just a fraction of a second.
Then he smoothed his expression and walked in.
Mr.
Big and Koslov were already there.
And the figures standing before them made Kevin’s pupils contract sharply.
‘Lynxley’s.
Already?’ Three of them occupied the center of the parlor, their presence seeming to draw the very air out of the room.
The lead lynx was the largest, broad-shouldered, tall, with the signature black tufts at the tips of his ears standing like twin daggers.
His dark gray suit was impeccably tailored, the agate cufflinks at his wrists gleaming with understated wealth.
Every inch of him radiated old money and old power, as if the room itself had shrunk a few degrees in his presence.
Beside him stood a female lynx, silver chains dangling from her ears, her eyes cold and cutting.
Her mouth curved down slightly at the corners, as if everything around her was beneath her notice.
A step behind them cowered a much smaller lynx, paler fur, hunched shoulders, tail drooping.
He radiated softness, timidity, a nervous energy that made him seem smaller than he actually was.
Though the timeline was still far from the events he remembered, Kevin recognized them instantly.
Cattrick Lynxley.
Kitty Lynxley.
And the cowering one, Pawbert Lynxley.
They were younger now, their edges sharper, their weaknesses more naked.
“Kevin, come here.” Mr.
Big called him forward, his voice calm and commanding.
“These three are the inheritors of the Lynxley family.” “Two, actually.” Kitty cut in before Mr.
Big could finish, her voice as thin and cold as a winter wind.
She didn’t even glance at her brother.
“No one calls a fourteen-year-old stuck in fifth grade an ‘inheritor.'” Pawbert flinched as if struck.
His claws retracted into his sleeves, gripping the lining so hard his knuckles went white.
He could feel every gaze in the room converging on him, needles pricking his burning face.
He dropped his head so low he wished his nape fur would instantly grow into a hood, a cloak, anything to make him invisible.
Of course he knew the white wolf standing before him.
Kevin Strol.
They’d been talking about him in the car on the way here.
A twelve-year-old genius who’d already completed his high school education.
And what had Pawbert accomplished at fourteen?
Nothing but failing math papers and the grinding humiliation of fifth grade.
The comparison made his face feel like it was on fire.
Blood rushed to his ears, pulsing hot and loud.
“Hello.
I’m Kevin Strol.” Kevin stepped forward and extended his hand to Cattrick.
His posture was effortless, shoulders relaxed, back straight, meeting the three lynxes without the slightest trace of intimidation.
Cattrick studied him for a long moment.
His face revealed nothing.
Then, with the stiffness of a man fulfilling an obligation, he reached out and shook.
Their paws met briefly in midair.
Mr.
Big, satisfied that introductions were underway, gave a slight nod and excused himself.
Tonight’s banquet demanded his attention elsewhere.
“Strol huh!” Cattrick’s brow furrowed slightly, a guarded curiosity in his voice.
“How did that happen?” “I’m adopted, technically,” Kevin said smoothly, spinning his tale with practiced ease.
“Got into a fight with a bigger wolf, lost.
Passed out.
Woke up here.” Cattrick blinked.
‘What bigger wolf?’ But he nodded thoughtfully anyway, as if it all made perfect sense.
“I see.” Kevin: ‘What exactly do you “see”?’ Then, as if suddenly remembering something important, Cattrick’s expression thawed by a fraction.
“Your father mentioned you’re applying to university next year?” “That’s right.” “Excellent.” The frost in Cattrick’s demeanor melted further.
He stepped closer and clapped Kevin on the arm with the easy familiarity of a lifelong friend.
“Then how about my university?” He reached into his inner pocket and produced a business card.
Kevin took it and glanced down.
A middle-aged female snow leopard stared back at him, calm, dignified, the fine lines around her eyes speaking of wisdom earned through years of experience.
Her name was Ellie.
Professor of Economics at Zootopia University.
“This is my mentor, Professor Ellie,” Cattrick said, his tone carrying just the right note of calculated respect.
“She’s a leading authority in the field.
If you’re interested in finance, you should consider it.
I’ll put in a word with her when we get back.
No professor worth her salt turns down a genius.” Kevin’s lips twitched.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Kevin was about to apply to university.
And Cattrick just happened to be studying finance.
And just happened to have his finance professor’s card in his pocket at this exact moment.
Might as well have tattooed “I WANT TO RECRUIT YOU” across his forehead.
Still.
Thoughts were thoughts.
He had to show respect at least at face value.
Because the Lynxley family was, at this moment in time, Zootopia’s most powerful family.
“Oh!
Thank you so much, truly!” Kevin’s expression shifted from mild interest to breathless gratitude in the span of a heartbeat.
His eyes went wide.
His mouth dropped open.
Pure, unrestrained delight radiated from every inch of his face, a performance so flawless it would have won awards.
“This is exactly what I needed!
Thank you!” He snatched the card, shoved it deep into his pocket, grabbed Cattrick’s paw, and pumped it with manic enthusiasm.
Repulsive as it was, a deal was a deal.
As the old saying went, only a fool turns down a free lunch.
Cattrick blinked, momentarily taken aback.
One second Kevin had been a calm young gentleman.
The next, he’d transformed into a fawning sycophant.
But then Cattrick’s surprise settled into quiet disdain.
‘Of course.
Just a twelve-year-old after all.
Can’t hide his greed.’ He yanked his paw out of Kevin’s grip, awkwardly, like pulling his finger out of sticky dough.
He cleared his throat.
“Well then.
My father has matters to attend to, we only came to pay our respects to Mr.
Big.
I should be getting back.” With that, Cattrick and Kitty turned and walked out, without so much as a backward glance.
Outside, the winter air bit at their faces.
A thin layer of snow crunched beneath their boots.
Cattrick stepped over to a porch pillar, scooped up a handful of fresh snow, scrubbed his paws vigorously, then flicked them clean as if shaking off contamination.
“Ugh.
Canids.” He muttered under his breath.
“Disgusting.” He hadn’t taken two steps when… “Cattrick?” Kevin’s voice came from directly beside him, so close it was practically in his ear.
Cattrick’s entire body seized.
The fur on his back shot straight up from nape to tail, threatening to morph him into a spiky dinosaur.
“You… how are you still here?!” He spun around, his voice climbing an octave.
“You and Miss Kitty are going the wrong way.” Kevin stood at the edge of the colonnade, a pleasant smile on his face, and gestured politely in the opposite direction.
Cattrick’s face froze.
Then his lips stretched into a stiff, brittle smile.
His mind raced: ‘He didn’t hear that.
No way he heard that.’ He stared at Kevin’s harmless, innocent face and tried to convince himself, ‘No way.
Absolutely no way.’ “Ahem.
Thanks.” Cattrick grabbed Kitty’s sleeve and practically fled down the correct path.
The two tufts of black fur on their ears bobbed against the snowy backdrop and soon vanished around the corner.
The instant they disappeared, Kevin’s smile evaporated.
He looked down at his own hand with equal disgust, walked to the opposite pillar, grabbed a handful of clean snow, scrubbed every finger, including the spaces between, then flung it away.
“Felids.
Especially lynxes.
Disgusting.” Wolves had exceptional hearing.
Of course he’d heard what Cattrick said.
He didn’t care.
In a few years, a fox and a rabbit would teach them all a lesson.
Kevin scoffed and turned to head back inside.
He’d barely pivoted when he collided with something soft.
Kevin stepped back and looked down.
Pawbert.
The young lynx stood frozen, mouth agape, his face a perfect portrait of terror, mortification, and helplessness.
He’d heard every word of Kevin’s “lynxes are disgusting” comment.
“Why are you still here?” Kevin stared at him flatly.
Pawbert’s fur nearly exploded under that gaze.
His tail clamped between his legs instinctively.
The white wolf towered over him by a good head, and the quiet, barely suppressed intensity in his posture, so at odds with his age, made Pawbert’s throat close up.
“I…
I got lost…” Pawbert’s voice came out thin and trembling, barely a whisper.
Kevin exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Fine.
I’ll see you out.” He led Pawbert through the parlor.
Just then, the phone on the side table rang sharply.
Kevin stopped, reached over, and picked it up.
“Hello?” Kitty’s cold, clipped voice cut through the line: “Is my useless brother with you?” Kevin glanced at the cringing lump beside him.
“Yes.” “Then let the idiot stay at your place tonight.” Click.
She didn’t give him a chance to argue.
Kevin held the phone, listening to the empty dial tone, then slowly turned his eyes to the lynx beside him, ears flattened, tail between his legs, radiating pure helplessness.
Kevin: …