Chapter 115

…Sniff.

Dori rubbed his nose with his forepaw, his emotions tangled in a complicated mess. After rolling down the damp mountain several times during the torrential rain and fleeing in haste, he hadn’t even had time to dry his fur.

On top of that, he had transformed into his human form inside the chilly hut. His body shivered with cold, and his nose tingled as though on the verge of a sneeze.

‘I can’t afford to catch a cold in this situation.’

Falling ill while being pursued would make survival even harder—he knew that from experience.

Back in the past, he had once fled to the mountains with a burning fever from a cold, trying to escape the orphanage director’s wrath. His vision had spun, and he had misstepped. Even after sustaining injuries all over his body, the director had been too stingy to send him to a hospital, so the wounds had taken forever to heal.

‘No, this won’t do. I need to move.’

He had to find a way to stave off the chill, even a little.

Dori raised his heavy body and began to scrape moss off the walls with rapid swipes of his claws. With each sharp stroke, the thick, deep green moss—almost black in hue—rained down. Fortunately, it didn’t require much effort to gather.

After piling up enough to match the size of his torso, he dug into the ground beneath him. The soil, softened by the age of the cave, quickly yielded into a hollow depression.

Dori pushed the moss into the hole with his paws and curled up atop it. He coiled his tail into a tight circle and buried his nose beneath the soft fur. It was warmer that way.

‘Phew…’

Had they been inside the palace, he wouldn’t have had to endure this hardship. Hong-i would have brought a cushion stuffed thick with cotton and a silk quilt, Cheong-i would have brewed him warm tea, and Haewon… hmm… though his medicine was bitter and foul-tasting, it would have at least been good for his body.

‘And Haban would…’

He would have worried for him more tenderly than anyone else.

Sniffling, Dori rubbed his nose again.

‘I’m not tearing up—it’s just the sneezing.’

The heat in his eyes and the lump in his throat were symptoms of the cold, nothing more. If he let himself cry from frustration, he’d only sap what little strength he had left.

Lowering his head gloomily, Dori worked his muzzle.

‘What should I do now? I don’t want to die.’

If things followed the original story, he was certain he would meet Haban again.

However, according to that same story, their reunion would come only after Haban’s obsessive search drenched everything in blood and fire—when the Red Fox Village had already been burned to ash.

In the original, Haban hadn’t known that “Dori” had been bullied and driven out by fellow foxes. In his unrelenting pursuit, he eventually discovered the village hidden deep within the mountains.

At the entrance to the Red Fox Village, where a stone pagoda stood, Haban confronted the elder of the fox clan.

‘This is the village of fox beastfolk, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty. To be precise, it is home to red foxes.’

At those words, Haban glared past the elder’s shoulder at the gathered villagers.

Startled by the armed humans intruding upon their ancestral land, the villagers clutched their mates and families in panic. Every one of them bore crimson hair and wary brown eyes.

‘So you mean to say Dori was not born and raised here.’

‘Indeed, as you say. He severed ties with this village long ago.’

When the emperor demanded they hand over the white fox immediately, the elder flatly replied that only red foxes lived here and no such inauspicious creature existed among them. But Haban misinterpreted this as an attempt to hide the rare white fox.

Thus, to drag Dori out like forcing a beast from its den, Haban ordered his soldiers to encircle the village with blazing torches, as if igniting the entrance to a burrow.

‘Throw them.’

With that single command, the torches were hurled en masse.

The village that had stood for generations went up in flames in an instant, reduced to ashes. Amid the piercing screams of red foxes and the cries of humans pounding the ground in despair, the soldiers searched for Dori, yet found no fox with white fur and golden eyes.

Overcome by hollow emptiness, Haban was at the same time seized by a bone-deep terror—that he might never find Dori.

Soon after, wanted posters bearing Dori’s face were plastered across the entire empire. Reports of sightings poured in from every region.

Most of them bore no resemblance to him or were motivated solely by greed for the reward. Those who were merely mistaken were released, but liars were punished severely, and the false reports soon dwindled.

Meanwhile, the fugitive Dori had chosen an abandoned house far from human dwellings as his hideout.

After the torment he had endured in the palace, he feared humans and rarely ventured outside. He only visited the market when absolutely necessary, which was how rumors began spreading—of a beautiful man with golden eyes living alone in seclusion.

When Jipyeong happened to hear the rumor, he was skeptical. But even the smallest chance could not be ignored. Clutching at straws, he began observing the house from a distance.

Contrary to his doubts, the man truly was Dori. Jipyeong immediately reported to the emperor, and at last, Haban was reunited with Dori.

Surprisingly, however, Haban found Dori not in the deep mountains among red foxes, but much closer to the imperial palace.

This revelation even sparked debates among readers at the time.

‘This is terrifying.’

The memory of that scene in the novel—when Haban and Dori reunited—made Dori tremble as if plunged into icy water.

Even if this was only fiction, the prospect of death still terrified him. Worse yet, what if dying here didn’t return him to reality? What if this was the end of everything?

‘…Why don’t I just stay here?’

For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed his mind—not wanting to leave the novel at all.

But Dori quickly shook off the selfish notion.

‘No… I only wanted to make my Dori happy. This is all happening because the story is unfolding as it was meant to.’

It wasn’t regret.

He had to return.

He was simply exhausted and worn down, which was why he was thinking nonsense.

‘Yeah… let’s just sleep.’

Dori checked the sounds outside once more before closing his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to erase his thoughts and drift into slumber, yet strangely, sleep wouldn’t come easily.

Mrrngh.

The worried white fox turned restlessly in his nest.

The surroundings were silent. The office was steeped in darkness, not a single light lit within. Silence pooled inside the chamber. Haban had driven everyone out—even Kim the chamberlain, who had begged His Majesty to rest just for tonight.

“…!”

Seated at his desk, staring into the void, Haban suddenly shot to his feet. A distant sound had reached his ears—a muffled, stifled sob.

Could it be Dori?

Perhaps Dori had lost track of time while exploring outside the palace and only now returned. Maybe he had panicked upon seeing unfamiliar guards stationed at the palace gates.

Clatter—bang!

With that thought, Haban flung the office doors open.

“Y-Your Majesty…!”

The court attendants posted outside gasped in shock. Confronted by the emperor’s blazing eyes, some collapsed to the floor as their legs gave out.

They hastily bowed, shoulders trembling, but Haban coldly strode past them.

…It’s happening again.

Kim and Lady Jang exchanged quiet glances. Their sovereign must have been seeing hallucinations—or hearing phantom cries—once more. But to bar the emperor’s path was a grave offense.

Kim nodded toward Lady Jang and followed after Haban. The stunned attendants scrambled to trail behind them.

‘Where are you?’

Meanwhile, as Haban made his way toward the fox’s quarters, he darted his gaze about, searching. He was certain the sound had come from this direction, yet he could not be sure.

Noticing his urgency, Kim discreetly signaled the attendants. The most vigilant among them dispersed to comb the surroundings.

When the echo of footsteps behind him thinned, Haban wasted no time hurrying toward the fox’s chamber.

“Dori!”

Clatter. He shoved the door open roughly—only to be met by a chill, lifeless room.

Neither the windowsill, where tiny paws once perched, nor the desk, where that splendid white tail had been dipped in ink, bore the fox’s presence. The bed, where soft skin had pressed against his own, lay empty.

“…Kim.”

After a brief silence, Haban clenched his fist. Those standing behind him dared not even breathe, fearful of further disturbing the emperor’s already turbulent mood.

“I shall rest for a while.”

“I will light the lamps.”

“There is no need.”

With that, he dismissed them and shut himself inside the chamber.

Haa…

His chest constricted painfully. Since Dori’s disappearance, not a single moment had passed without this torment.

If Dori had left of his own will, as in their previous life, Haban’s heart would ache but not despair like this. But now—now that some unknown hand had taken him for unknown reasons—the dread gnawed at him daily.

‘…Not yet?’

Thump, thump. Haban beat his chest a few times, then stepped forward slowly.

On the day Dori vanished, even amidst the pounding rain, he had ridden straight to the secluded house where he had found Dori in their past life. He prayed with all his soul that Dori would be there. The memory of that desolate place still haunted him vividly.

Yet, contrary to his desperate hopes, the house remained abandoned, untouched. Not a trace of habitation lingered.

The bleak emptiness mirrored Dori’s plight, and the ground seemed to crumble beneath him—but there had been no time for grief.

Whoever had taken Dori must have had a purpose.

No matter how precious a white fox might be, no one would risk their life infiltrating the imperial palace merely to lay hands on the emperor’s property. Dori’s quarters alone contained chests of priceless treasures—if theft was the goal, those would have been easier prey.

No—this was a provocation. A challenge. The blade was aimed squarely at him.

After that, Haban turned his horse’s head back toward the palace.