The sound of gunshots pierced through the night. The gray wolf pressed down on several wounds on his body, where blood was gushing out in streams.

"It won’t… end like this." Another round of gunfire roared. The gray wolf staggered back a few steps before his powerless legs gave out. He collapsed onto the ground, leaving a large bloodstain on the wall behind him.

"There will be others… to carry on what I’ve started…" Blood gushed from his mouth and nose, making it hard for him to speak. The gang leader, dressed in a black coat, pulled out a gleaming Desert Eagle and aimed it at the wolf’s heart. "…An ideal… cannot be killed."

The trigger was pulled. The hammer struck. The gunshot rang out. The shell casing hit the ground.

"Ugh… ah… ah…" Accompanying Miyagi’s ridiculously exaggerated dying cries, the audience burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Haruo, you’re really into this, huh?" Siraya laughed and patted my back. I mustered all my willpower to suppress the urge to flinch, a feat made harder by the fact that my fur had been standing on end for the past two hours.

"Yeah, that fake blood was pretty realistic," I replied casually, trying to maintain a tense appearance. With my bristling fur as proof, my words were quite convincing.

Our dorm’s movie night had also invited freshmen from nearby rooms in the same department, giving us a chance to get to know each other while watching films. I hadn’t noticed before how many big cats there were among the biology majors living in the dorms. The most notable thing? They all seemed to love tonight’s movie.

I seriously considered never trying to understand Miyagi, even if he’d won a Nobel Prize. This wolf had already brought me enough anguish to last a lifetime.

As I finally started to relax, my fur gradually smoothed back down against my skin. That’s when I noticed something was off. Great, I must’ve said something wrong again—the puma next door actually swallowed nervously.

"Yeah, reacting to blood that realistic is totally normal. None of you have been to the Black Market yet, right?" Saber deliberately emphasized the last part, and pairs of feline ears perked up all around. After enduring a horror movie of this intensity, I didn’t have the energy to force my ears to react.

"We’ll take you there tomorrow night, let you see it for yourselves before the semester begins." Saber spoke with a hint of mystery, and I thought I caught glimpses of fleeting excitement in some of their eyes. As the group dispersed to their respective rooms, excited whispers buzzed around, with some bold ones even attempting to utter that forbidden term.

Sigh. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if my fresh start turned into a bloody street filled with corpses—and a little mouse choking on its own blood while waving a red flag atop a burning barricade.

"Saber, I’m not eighteen yet, so I think I’ll sit out tomorrow," I said, trying to appear just a tad disappointed, though I wasn’t really looking forward to it. Hopefully, this would lead to a change in plans.

"Don’t worry, Haruo! I know plenty of animals in the Black Market. I can get us in without any hassle!" Saber, perhaps inspired by some notion of loyalty, grew unreasonably excited, fully embodying the role of a bold, streetwise senior. I could already hear the first shots of the revolution. General Lamarck is dead; chaos is about to spiral out of control.

"Ayaan, you can take the bed. I’ve got mats on the floor; I can sleep there just fine," I said, pulling out a spare blanket and my bone-shaped pillow. Ayaan was an Indian lion with jet-black mane, who had heard about our dorm’s movie marathon during the biology department’s badminton practice earlier that morning. Because of the dorm curfew and the next day’s practice, I had offered to let him crash in our room for the night.

"No way I’m letting you sleep on the floor. Your bed’s big enough; we can share," he said, taking off his glasses and placing them on my desk. His green eyes seemed to shrink a size without the lenses.

"Oh, okay." Wait, why did I agree to that so easily? Given how everything that could go wrong had gone wrong so far, I could already imagine a hundred weird plot twists.

Our dorm rooms design is quite interesting, each student’s space was a two-level furniture combo: the lower level had a desk, wardrobe, and storage, while the upper level was the sleeping area. As I climbed the ladder, I forcibly muted the opening notes of "One Day More" playing in my head.

After spending some time adjusting our positions, both Ayaan and I settled into the bed. It was only a little cramped.

"I think you’re really brave," Ayaan said quietly. "That fake blood made me really uncomfortable too. My whole family are Indian lions that doesn’t eat meat. Hard to believe, right? That scene in the movie almost made me throw up, but I didn’t dare show it." When he mentioned that taboo word, his tone trembled slightly, but he managed to say it. I considered telling him the truth—that things weren’t as he thought—but I chose to stay silent and listen instead.

"So I don’t quite get why you won’t tell them you’re not an Arctic wolf." He pulled my right arm out from under the blanket and started stroking the fur on my forearm.

"Because I went to school with Arctic foxes and Arctic wolves. I know they can’t handle heat well, and Arctic wolves have triple-layered fur." Ayaan gave my forearm muscles a squeeze. "You're quite toned! How did you build up this definition?"

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Don’t flirt so casually in such an ordinary tone! I thought to myself. By now, Gavroche must have been shot dead. The fur on my back stood on end again, but at least it was confined to my back, where Ayaan couldn’t see it.

"Since elementary school, during free activity time in PE class, I’d hang from the monkey bars until the period ended. Playing with other animals never really appealed to me," I said. I still didn’t understand where the stereotype about canines loving to play ball came from.

"These muscles are typical of badminton players; this one especially," I said, folding Ayaan’s right paw into a fist and bending it downward.

"I’m just tired of constantly explaining why I’m not an Arctic wolf. Everyone assumes it just because of my white fur," I added. Ayaan nodded, tucked his hand back under the blanket, and yawned.

"I get that. My black mane has always led to assumptions about me being fierce or hypersexual or other nonsense. Meanwhile, I can’t even bring myself to admit to others that I’m afraid of blood," he said softly, closing his eyes. Black-maned lions are typically associated with higher testosterone levels, but that doesn’t necessarily correlate with other traits.

"I’ve heard lions sometimes face those struggles," I replied. Or rather, who doesn’t face similar struggles? The shadows on the dorm walls swayed with the movements of my roommates at their desks, like ephemeral illusions dancing on the stone walls of an ignorant hollow.

"You want to know why I’m a gray wolf with pure white fur?" I asked, thinking about meeting others from different places, with different experiences, and what kind of sparks such exchanges might ignite. I was eager for this new beginning.

"Sure, I’d love to hear about it. But I’m really tired… maybe next time," Ayaan murmured, yawning again as he turned over. Typical felines—they’re just too much sometimes. I intended to drift off too, but as Ayaan turned, the wave of warmth and male lion scent hit me, snapping my reason like a dry twig. My fur stood on end all over again.

The stormy sea on a moonless night. Are you kidding me? This level of intense presence in a lion who’s afraid of blood—and he just lying beside me, belly exposed. Please, have mercy.

Several agonizing minutes passed, and Ayaan’s tail began to flick, its tuft brushing against my thigh. That was the last straw. "They shall witness the uprising of the people!"

"Haruo… Haruo… Haruo!" I opened my eyes to see Ayaan’s green ones filling my vision. "Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

I sat up and rubbed the lump on my right temple.

"Your sleeping posture was so bad. You elbowed me, and I couldn’t fall asleep, so I moved down here," I lied. In reality, I’m so sensitive to others’ movements that I can’t sleep near anyone. My desire to try new experiences often overrides rational judgment, which is why I end up in situations like this.

The bump still throbbed a bit. Ayaan apologized with a laugh and went to shower, saying his mane would be a mess unless he washed it every morning. This must be what they call the "Fisher’s runaway" hypothesis.

While Ayaan was in the bathroom, I washed up and changed. The other big cats were still asleep; I’d heard them climbing into bed around two in the morning.

Oh, by the way, Xuanyuan also slept on the floor. Compared to the slender Saber and Siraya, Xuanyuan was a more robust feline, built more like a tiger than a jaguar. Watching him lie there in just his boxers was quite a sight, but big cats really aren’t my thing.

Maybe Ayaan, with his uniquely powerful presence, would be an exception. The stormy sea on a moonless night had completely captured my curiosity.

What color lies at the heart of the deepest night?

Could this scent be the amalgamation of life stories from around the world, paths I’ve never walked, and sights I’ve never seen? My desire began to awaken. So many unknowns. What kind of colors and scents await me?