The smell of disinfectant in the med-pod stung Fat Cat III's nostrils like a thousand tiny needles. He struggled to lift his eyelids. The cold, white, curved ceiling of the pod swam into view, bathed in the soft blue glow that flowed along its walls. His entire body felt as if it had been repeatedly flattened by a heavy-duty hover-truck – every bone screamed in protest. The worst was that pinpoint spot on the back of his neck. Its fiery ache pulsed with stubborn insistence, confirming the icy electronic voice he'd heard before blacking out wasn't a hallucination.
[...Zzzzt… Compulsory Protection Protocol… activat-ing…]
What was it? A system alert? Or the first crack in his psyche?
"Physiological parameters stabilized. Discharge authorized," a cold, synthetic voice announced within the pod. The hatch hissed open silently. Fat Cat hauled himself out, staggering as his paw-pads touched the frigid floor. A cleaning bot whirred past his feet, its scanning beam a casual red streak washing over his bulky frame. It emitted a dismissive beep-beep, the sound horribly reminiscent of tagging defective merchandise.
The corridor outside was obsessively clean, the nano-polished floor reflecting his abject state with cruel clarity: ginger fur matted and tangled in clumps, sticky, half-dried medical gel gluing strands together on his neck and chest. Beneath the orange fur on his belly, the hideous purple-black bloom of Zhao Ritian's alloy knuckle guard stood out lividly. He instinctively hunched his shoulders, trying to shrink his bulky mass towards the wall's shadow. Thick paw-pads pressed lightly against the freezing tiles, silently shuffling forward. Every step pulled at the deep ache under his ribs – a souvenir from yesterday's 'fraudulent' display of strength.
He pushed open the heavy alloy door to Class B, Animal Sapience College. The expected roar of mockery didn't instantly erupt. Fat Cat III exhaled a fraction. Maybe yesterday's gymnasium fiasco is forgotten? Maybe they found a new chew-toy today? He kept his head down, amber eyes fixed only on the tips of his moving claws, slowly navigating towards his specially reinforced, extra-wide seat in the very back corner – his sanctuary cage.
His front paw was just about to touch the top step, the final hurdle to that fragile refuge, when—
SQUELCH!
A vile, sticky, unnervingly cold slime engulfed his entire right forepaw! Momentum hurled his bulky body forward! Instinctively, he threw out his left paw to break the fall. It plunged SPLURT into the same disgusting morass! A sickeningly sweet, cloying odor of concentrated honey mixed with the sharp, chemical sting of some industrial lubricant slammed into his nostrils!
The classroom erupted in an ugly wave of uncontrolled, ragged laughter.
"Pffft! Hahaha! Look! Orange Jelly Bear!"
"Epic! Who set the trap? So on point!"
"Eww, lube and honey? That squelch sound… chef's kiss!"
Fat Cat III lay sprawled pathetically on the step, both forepaws sunk deep in the viscous sludge. Golden honey and clear, greasy lubricant oozed down his fur, mingling with dust and grit beneath him to form a vile, filthy bog. He tried to scramble up, but his paws slipped uselessly in the muck, only smearing more grime across his chest and flanks. His layered belly dragged with shocking coldness and abrasion against the rough edge of the step. He felt the weight of hundreds of eyes like physical barbs piercing his skin: Gu Yan adjusting his glasses, the lenses glinting with cold calculation; Zhao Ritian's wide, silent grin of malice; Lin Wanwan's exquisite disdain, her delicate claws covering her nose with a perfectly arched expression of distaste.
"Disgusting," came Lin Wanwan's unmistakable, nasal whisper of contempt, slicing effortlessly through the laughter to stab straight into Fat Cat's ears.
Shame, scalding and immense, seized his soul. He stopped struggling. He just lay there, half-buried in the filth, breathing harsh ragged gasps. His amber eyes emptied, glazed over. Fragments of past and present humiliation collided violently: his father's grey, collapsing face; the sheer cliff-drop plunge of red lines on a holograph; Gu Yan's icy pronouncement "Procedures only recognize records"; Zhao Ritian shredding his fur like old cloth on the gym floor yesterday… and now, this sweetly cloying, chillingly symbolic slime beneath his paws.
"The chime has sounded. Certain individuals will maintain minimal classroom hygiene," Gu Yan announced, his voice carrying the familiar, detached authority of a judge passing sentence.
Fat Cat moved numbly. He used less soiled patches of fur to scrape himself against the step, wrenching his paws from the glutinous trap. Each step onto the pristine corridor floor left a distinct, dirty honey-smeared paw-print – like a trail of brands leading straight to the stake. He crumpled into his corner seat, curling his filthy paws tightly beneath his belly. The thick fur couldn't block the sticky coldness, the cloying reek, or the relentless weight of stares carrying amusement, contempt, and disgust. Like a condemned prisoner awaiting execution, he buried his head deeply, praying only for the bell to ring and grant him escape into deeper, unseen shadows.
The professor for Stellar Macroeconomics was an elderly alpaca, his coat gone grizzled, his eyes magnified behind thick spectacles. He ambled slowly to the lectern, tapping a hoofed foot delicately on the display screen to pull up the day's topic: "The Cascading Impacts of Third Stellar Ring Resource Depletion on the Pan-Sol Credit Point Exchange System – A Dynamic Analysis Based on Lins Stellar Capital's Latest Merger Model."
Fat Cat buried his head deeper, claws unconsciously digging into yesterday's scratch marks on the desk. Lins. Again! The name was a poison-tipped barb permanently embedded in his psyche. His father's fall, Gu Yan's "primary beneficiary, the Lins consortium" during the hearing – they coiled like venomous serpents around his heart. He tried not to listen, but the jargon wormed its way in: Credit Anchors, Quantum Currency Velocity, Cross-Stellar Capital Arbitrage… The instincts of the Liu heir from his past life stirred the sediment of buried memories, a faint phosphorescence glimmering in the sludge of despair.
"...thus, upon Lins Capital securing absolute control of the Kepler-22b rare mineral veins, the implicit volatility of their 'Star-Chain Bonds' spiked, directly impacting the older stability framework centered on the Martian Federal Reserve. Therefore," the old professor pushed his spectacles up his snout, his gaze gentle yet sharp as it swept the class, "The critical question is: what is the immediate transmission effect of such a shockwave on the small, independent economies in fringe sectors, such as our own Fourth Stellar Ring colony? Who can utilize the core formula of the 'Credit-Point Overflow - Siphon' Dual-Helix Model to demonstrate this?"
Silence thickened the air. Front-row scholars frowned, fingers flying over their touchscreens. Struggling students stared blankly, rummaging through mental debris. Those already lost merely daydreamed.
Gu Yan habitually pushed his gold-rimmed glasses higher, a prelude to demonstration. He cleared his throat, radiating confidence: "Professor, according to the Dual-Helix Model, the transmission should manifest as accelerated credit-point outflow from the fringe sectors, leading to local currency—"
"Incorrect." The professor's interruption was gentle but absolute. His hoof tapped the screen. An intricate multivariate formula bloomed into view. "You confuse immediate effect with medium-term effect. The key variable, Mr. Gu, is the instantaneous coupling value of 'local financial firewall quantum encryption strength coefficient (δ)' and 'core sector capital greed index (γ)', not mere capital flow direction."
Gu Yan's confidence petrified mid-gesture. His finger stayed frozen near his glasses. Behind the lenses, his eyes flickered with the barest hint of panic. His mouth opened, then closed soundlessly. He pushed his glasses with exaggerated firmness, his throat bobbing visibly.
Beside him, Zhao Ritian scratched his head violently, jabbing thick, clumsy fingers at his virtual keyboard as if battling a mortal enemy, muttering curses: "Tch! What the hell δ and γ crap... My gym cash-flow model is a thousand times simpler..."
Lin Wanwan elegantly raised a perfectly manicured paw, its claws gleaming with pearl polish. She tilted her head slightly, exposing a swan-like neck. "Professor," her voice was sweet and precise, "I believe the core issue lies in the political intent behind Lins Capital's merger strategy. Utilizing financial leverage to manufacture panic is merely a smokescreen for—"
"Miss Lin," the professor interjected with calm authority, "Adhere to the model. Finance is a cold numbers game. Over-interpreting 'intent' risks straying from mathematical rigor. The formula. I require application and derivation of the formula." His hoof tapped again. A variable in the complex formula on the screen lit up brightly. "Tell me, when γ exceeds threshold due to unforeseen core sector war risk, say Centauri sector escalation, what δ value is required to prevent fringe sector monetary collapse within 48 standard hours?"
A hairline fracture appeared in Lin Wanwan's flawless façade. Her raised paw froze. Her lips parted slightly, her prepared rhetoric trapped in her throat. Her amber pupils darted rapidly over the baffling symbols on the screen, genuine confusion flashing there for the first time. She tried to maintain grace, but the slight tightening along her jaw and the slow, deliberate lowering of her paw betrayed her flustered state. Under the silent scrutiny of the entire room, she deflated, the air of untouchable superiority hissing out.
At that exact moment, a tiny, hesitant, and tremulous voice, like a pebble dropped into stagnant water, floated weakly from the deepest, darkest corner of the room:
"Is it… δ ≥ [ (γ_max²) / (2 * σ * ρ) ] + Λ…?"
The voice was faint, carrying Fat Cat III's characteristic wheeze, sounding breathless and shaky. But in the deathly quiet where even breathing felt subdued, its clarity hit like thunder!
SWIVEL!
Hundreds of eyes – wide with disbelief, tinged with absurdity, bristling with offense – snapped towards the bulky, ginger form smeared with dried honey sludge! Fat Cat himself froze, amber eyes wide in absolute terror, a paw clamped tightly over his own mouth, as if the string of symbols had been violently forced out by someone else. It had simply happened. At the trigger words "Lins," "financial leverage," "collapse," the deeply ingrained financial instincts from his past life had surged – like residual circuits jolted by high voltage – beyond conscious control!
The professor's eyes, magnified behind thick lenses, blazed with sudden interest. His hoof danced swiftly on the screen, running the calculation. A broad, genuine smile broke across his face after a few seconds. "Precisely correct! And you include the crucial Λ term (Fringe Sector Native Credit Anchor Resilience Coefficient), accounting for real-world complexity! Astounding! Mr. Fat Cat, could you... could you possibly repeat that a little louder?"
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Zhao Ritian slammed his fist on the desk, the alloy echoing with a dull boom. He pointed at Fat Cat, his face purpling. "That slag heap cheated! He must be jacked into the network illegally! Or got a bootleg neural chip! Professor, he's D-Grade! Bottom of the barrel! He knows NOTHING about financial models!"
Gu Yan snapped out of his shock, his eyes behind the gold rims turning poisonous. His voice was dipped in ice: "Professor, Fat Cat III has a known history of 'data fabrication,' evidenced by his infamous 'nine-billion debt claim.' I strongly recommend an immediate scan of his neural ports for unauthorized devices!"
Lin Wanwan didn't speak. She simply stared at Fat Cat III, her gaze no longer dismissive but chillingly venomous, the cold scrutiny reserved for an unexpectedly defiant lesser life-form. Her mask of perfection was utterly shattered, revealing only naked hostility.
"Silence!" The professor's voice held an unusual crack of authority. "Academic discourse values truth, not pedigree! Mr. Fat Cat's answer was precise, succinct, and targeted the crux of the matter! Whereas you two—" his piercing gaze swept over Zhao Ritian and Gu Yan, the latter now pale with suppressed fury, "leveling baseless accusations against a classmate, disrupting order! Mr. Zhao, Mr. Gu, please step outside immediately to compose yourselves! Miss Lin," his gaze shifted to the pale-faced campus queen, "your approach requires focus. Transcribe the Dual-Helix core formula twenty times for enhanced familiarity. Class dismissed? Resume."
Outside in the cold, sterile corridor, Gu Yan leaned against the nano-clean wall, the look behind his glasses dark enough to stain the polished surface. Zhao Ritian paced like a cornered beast, his alloy knuckles creaking under the pressure of his clenched fists.
"That slaggin' fat cat..." Zhao Ritian snarled through gritted teeth, a vein throbbing on his temple. "He dared... dared embarrass us like that! In old woolly's class?!"
Gu Yan adjusted his glasses. The cold lenses reflected the harsh ceiling lights. "D-Grade optimization cannot spontaneously comprehend and apply such complex finance. Two options: systematic deception... or an unknown cheat." A cruel, thin smile touched his lips. "Whichever, he crossed the line. Trash belongs in the bin. Not crawling out to pollute the air."
Lin Wanwa remained inside, but her rigid, icy silhouette was faintly visible, ghost-like, reflected in the polished alloy classroom door.
"After school," Gu Yan's voice was a soft, lethal whisper. "The usual place. Time for a 'learning session' with our suddenly precocious classmate. He needs reminding. Trash… remains trash."
School release surged like floodwaters. A sea of eager students poured through Stellar Union University's imposing alloy gates. Fat Cat III, however, moved like a trapped leaf against the current, attempting to shrink his bulky frame into the gaps, veering sharply away from the main path. He turned onto a desolate service track winding through the old campus repair sector – a zone choked with derelict machinery and discarded building materials, largely unmapped and forgotten, its surveillance feeds long dead. It was his well-worn 'safe route,' a labyrinth of rusted gantries and scrap piles where shadows stretched long and monstrous in the dying light.
His heart hammered violently against his ribs like a trapped beast, each frantic beat jarring the still-tender ache beneath them. The fleeting, dizzying high from his classroom slip had long since evaporated, replaced by an icy dread that seeped into his bones. He could feel the weight of three sets of venomous eyes trained on his retreating form. His paws moved faster, scrabbling over loose nuts and bolts, desperate to push through the metal maze and reach the relative, if ramshackle, sanctuary of his 'home' – the rust-junkyard warehouse in 'Wanderer's Harbor,' officially valued by Gu Yan at a mocking "50 Star Credits."
He was rounding a colossal stack of corroded quantum conduits when three silhouettes detached themselves from behind a looming alloy shipping container, blocking the narrow passage's exit completely. The low sun silhouetted them, plunging him into their long, predatory shadows.
Zhao Ritian cracked his neck with a series of sickening pops. His specialized alloy fighting gloves glinted with a dull, menacing sheen in the gloom. Gu Yan removed his gold-rimmed glasses with unnerving leisureliness, polishing the lenses with a scrap of velvet cloth – a gesture chillingly surgical in its precision. Lin Wanwa stood slightly back, arms crossed. Not a speck of dust marred her expensive, custom-tailored skirt. Her exquisitely sculpted face was a blank mask, only her amber eyes betraying emotion: cold, detached focus, reflecting Fat Cat's own terror in pinpricks of dilated pupils. She was the unmoved observer.
"Think your D-Grade scrap code makes you hot stuff now?" Zhao Ritian sneered, advancing. The metal plates of his gloves scraped together with a chink. "Huh, scrap heap?" Without warning, his fist slammed into Fat Cat's unprotected side!
"Guh—!" Agony, raw and shocking, detonated within him. Fat Cat's vision flickered black. His massive frame folded like a sack, crashing back hard against the cold metal container with a resonant CLANG! The ribs barely mended in the med-pod this morning shrieked anew, promising fresh fracture. Copper-tasting blood bubbled hotly in his throat.
Gu Yan slid his polished glasses back on. His gaze, now magnified, was like twin scalpels. "Faking data is like an itch, isn't it, Fat Cat? First a nine-billion lie, now sudden finance genius?" His voice was soft, analytical, dripping contempt. He lifted a foot clad in polished luxury leather. Slowly, deliberately, yet packed with crushing force, he brought his heel down on the sensitive nerve cluster at the base of Fat Cat's limp tail.
"YEEEOOWLL—!!!!" The sound that tore from Fat Cat's throat was beyond feline, beyond pain – a raw, animal shriek that ripped the junkyard silence apart. The nerve ending fire consumed him, convulsing his entire body. Instinctual tears blinded him. Liu Yao's final, broken roar – "The Lius… CAN'T lose twice!" – exploded like shrapnel in his skull, mingling horribly with the present, excruciating violation. Lose…? He, Liu Yao, reborn as Fat Cat III… was he forever doomed to be the loser crushed underfoot?
"Observe the specimen," Lin Wanwan finally spoke. Her voice was honey laced with shards of ice. She leaned slightly forward, a scientist examining flawed matter. Her gaze swept over the shivering, mucus-, tear-, and grime-smeared orange lump huddled in filth. "Even pain is expressed with such… inelegance. Your very existence undermines the Genetic Equity Act. D-Grade. Know your level. Why crawl into our light?" Her sharp, designer heel hovered like a poised scorpion's sting, aligning precisely with the exposed, trembling joint of Fat Cat's hind leg – a place guaranteed to cripple.
Despair, colder than deep space, flooded Fat Cat's veins. The fight bled out of him. He curled tighter, a mewling, broken thing, his amber eyes reflecting only grey emptiness. The agony of fractured ribs, the torment of the shattered tail nerve, the suffocating iron taste of blood in his mouth, the cold, absolute finality of his failure… It was over. Father… I'm sorry… I still failed…
Just as Lin Wanwan's heel began its final, devastating descent, a voice rang out. Clear. Precise. Utterly level. Like cold sunshine breaking through roiling, thunderous clouds. It sliced through the tension in the narrow passageway:
"University Ordinance Code Seven, Section Three, Clause Five: Prohibits the engagement of physical violence, psychological abuse, or genetic discrimination against any Sapient Scholar on University grounds. Penalties include credit forfeiture, mandatory service, and expulsion. Severity dictates sanction."
The high heel froze mid-air.
Time solidified.
Fat Cat, with immense effort, dragged his head upwards fractionally. Blood and tears blurred his vision. Silhouetted against the sinking sun at the entrance to the passage stood a figure. Tall. Poised. Encased in the deep blue uniform of a Stellar University Senior Council member. On the arm, glinting even in the fading light, was the silver badge of the Disciplinary Corps. Around its edge, catching the last fiery rays of the sun, it blazed like a crown of burning gold. Her face was in shadow, impossible to make out.