What did it mean to grow up?
That was the thing that had been troubling him. As a panther from a rich and influential family, of course growing up would be painless, right? Yet as he leant back on the chair and watched as his family exchanged talks over the table, he could not help but wonder if this was a curse.
All this extravagance, all this wealth, they did not simply fall from the sky. It would be easy to think that one was born to such bling, that living rich meant being able to do anything. Living separated from the commoners, eating only the finest of food, doing only the classiest of activities, the illusion that painted the lives of the rich was bright, full of lies.
The panther gave a sigh, his appetite long gone. His family were conversing over the table, some about the stock market, some about the restaurant business, some about the next big thing to hit the market. It was as if no dinner was complete without talking about these kinds of things.
In a way, yes, but in other ways…
As he was on his way to becoming a full adult, he was to continue this family. Not just in name, but in privileges, rights, and responsibilities. Despite what people thought, it was not easy. All this wealth came with a big responsibility. One could obtain wealth with one action just as much as one could lose wealth with just one action. It was like walking on a tightrope, only the stakes as much, much higher.
Some say being rich meant being able to do anything that the heart desired. Maybe that had truth to it, but the responsibility of doing such a thing was also to be considered. If anything, the panther thought that being rich meant less foresight of what would happen.
Such was the nature of the underground family operation that he was about to inherit.
Anger rose within him, but he quenched it down. Wealth could give people power as much as it could blind them. The more one had, the more one wanted.
The panther looked back over the table. As much as he despised what was to come, he could not bear to disappoint his family. They were as much burdened as him, cursed to be the guardians of their wealth, to control it or be controlled by it. No one was perfect, and power demanded responsibility.
He put the knife and spoon back on the plate. It was still half-full; he had no intention of throwing it away when he knew that there were people starving. No, he had to be responsible for this. He had to bear this burden.
The panther's gaze softened. He had to bear this responsibility, of growing up knowing what sweat and blood meant, and of keeping his own curse. He would not disappoint himself, even if that meant doing things his own way.
He wanted to make his own mark.
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