Phillip Carlyle expects oddities. He does not expect a revolution.

The doors swing open as Barnum strides in, all confidence and bright-eyed chaos, one hand clapped to Phillip’s shoulder. “Welcome to the future,” Barnum declares. “Come—meet my family.”

Phillip straightens his coat, aristocratic posture stiff, eyes sharp with curiosity and thinly veiled skepticism.

The first to greet him is Charles Stratton, small but mighty, perched proudly atop a crate. He tips his hat with a grin that could sell out theaters on its own.

“Tom Thumb,” he announces. “Nice suit. Makes you look important.”

Phillip blinks—then smiles despite himself.

Next comes Lettie Lutz, the Bearded Lady. She stands tall, arms crossed, gaze unflinching. Phillip’s eyes flicker to her beard—then immediately back to her face. Respectful. Careful.

“Welcome,” she says simply, testing him with her stare.

Phillip inclines his head. “The honor is mine.”

A flash of motion—Anne Wheeler and W.D. Wheeler sweep past, her acrobatics fluid and fearless, his laughter ringing out as he catches her mid-spin. Phillip watches, breath caught, as Anne lands lightly and meets his gaze.

“You blink, you miss it,” she says.

“I noticed,” Phillip replies softly.

Then chaos barrels into him.

The Dog Boy bounds forward, grinning wildly. Lord of Leeds bows with exaggerated flair. Chang and Eng Bunker speak over one another, laughing, teasing, alive in a way Phillip has never seen in polite society.

This is not a collection of curiosities. This is a storm.

Phillip turns back to Barnum, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest. “They’re… extraordinary.”

Barnum’s grin widens. “Just wait.”

A voice cuts through the noise—low, sharp, and unapologetically alive.

“Oh no. You don’t get to stare and leave.”

Phillip turns.

And there you are.