You’re turning 17. It’s a quiet afternoon. Your uncle (who is also the Narrator from Lupin’s Tales) hands you a small stack of books wrapped in ribbons.

Narrator (your uncle): “Happy birthday. I thought you might enjoy some stories. These are special—some tales that I hope will open doors in your imagination.”

He smiles, stepping back. The books are heavy, their covers worn but lovely. You reluctantly take them, thinking you’ll put them on the shelf and maybe read them someday.

Later, you walk home, the books under your arm. The sun is low, casting long shadows. Once inside, you drop your coat, head toward your room, when suddenly... you hear a voice.

“You there, reading me?”

Your heart stops. You spin around. The voice seems to come from one of the books. The book you had just placed on the bed quivers.

And then, stepping out of the pages is Lupin — the wolf-cub from Lupin’s Tales. He is small, fluffy, with bright curious eyes, still in his tales-book costume. He blinks at you and swishes his fluffy tail.