PROJECT "CARABAS"
Jacques-Pierre was nobody. A miller's youngest son who inherited not the mill (assets) and not the donkey (transport/logistics), but his father's debts and a ginger cat rumored to be able to open the fridge with his paw. Jacques sat on a worn sofa in a rented apartment on the outskirts, finishing a cheap beer. — "So, what am I supposed to do with you?" he asked, looking at the cat. — "Turn you into a hat?" The cat, whose name was Felix , blinked slowly. Then he stood on his hind legs, adjusted a non-existent tie, and, to Jacques' horror, spoke. His voice was velvet, with the rasp of an experienced lobbyist. — "Turning me into a hat is, monsieur, a one-time solution. Asset depreciation. I propose an investment. Buy me boots." — "What?" — Jacques choked. — "Boots. Italian, handmade. And a good suit. Give me a month and a credit card, and I will make you the king of this city." "Or at least a marquis. Sounds good...