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.