He’s a Fox Ch 37

Chapter 37

“Yuri, go to sleep quickly. Only then can you play again tomorrow.”

“Mm. Good night, Moong-moo Oppa. Good night, Oppa too.”

Bravely delivering her “goodnight” greetings, the cub burrowed beneath the blankets. Perhaps because she had skipped her nap earlier while waiting for the fox, her eyelids began to flutter shut the moment her head touched the pillow. Kangwoon stretched out a hand, rhythmically patting her side. With each slow repetition, her breaths grew heavier until the faint sound of soft snoring filled the room. Even then, her small body clung instinctively as close to Hohyun as possible.

The big tiger’s gaze, fixed on the sleeping cub as he patted her, had softened considerably. Looking at him from the side, Hohyun was struck by the impression of his sheer scale. Of course, he had always thought the tiger enormous whenever in fox form—back then, everyone and everything seemed gigantic. But now, even in human form, the sensation was unchanged. That was rare indeed.

In his family, only his mother had been of average stature. His father, being of a large-breed canine lineage, was towering, as were his three older siblings. Even his fox-born younger brother was tall for their kind. Among siblings already known for their height, Hohyun himself had been considered “the big one.” For someone like him to look at another and still feel dwarfed—well, that was rare enough to be unsettling.

Surely, when transformed into human form, the tiger would shrink at least a little? Small- and medium-sized beastmen tended to grow bigger once in human form, whereas large species typically grew smaller relative to their beast bodies. So by probability, Kangwoon’s human body would also be comparably “smaller.” Still, he’d likely remain taller than Hohyun.

Hohyun’s eyes drifted over the dark stripes painted across the rich golden pelt. He tried to imagine Kangwoon’s human appearance. His eyes probably wouldn’t be “kind.” Would his eyebrows be thick? He narrowed his own eyes as though straining his imagination, but the effort ended in failure.

The truth was that his imagination, steeped in a lifetime among canid beastmen, simply had its limits. If Kangwoon had been canid, Hohyun would have instantly pictured the type—easy, instinctive recognition. But a tiger? He could only draw blanks.

In truth, it didn’t matter how the tiger would look. Hohyun’s wandering thoughts were born solely from idleness. He couldn’t leave—the cub was asleep beside him. He couldn’t really sleep—he wasn’t three years old. And right there, within arm’s reach, lay Kangwoon: his new employer as of today. There were toys and Yuri in between them, but compared to the tiger’s sheer presence, those barriers were negligible.

He stared up at the blank ceiling. If there had been a clock, he could have at least counted ticks of the second hand. Blinking emptily, he caught the faintest motion—a tiger rising with silent grace. The bed dipped faintly under that bulk, impossible to miss, though the great beast moved soundlessly.

Kangwoon padded to the wall and tapped the switch. Tok. The room darkened. On the way back, his striped tail casually brushed the mood lamp switch to dim it too. Slipping back into bed, he murmured softly,

“Can’t sleep?”

“…Yes.”

Both kept their voices hushed to avoid waking the cub. Hohyun gave a nod. Kangwoon thought it over, then voiced what seemed the simplest solution from his own perspective:

“If it’s because someone else is lying beside you—go to your room instead. I’ll wake you before Yuri wakes tomorrow.”

His reasoning was logical. Sleeping conditions: excellent. Noise: none. Therefore, the obstacle must be proximity. If Hohyun couldn’t sleep because of another presence, then secrecy could be maintained—he’d allow the fox to return to his own quarters, provided he got back before the cub stirred.

But after brief hesitation, Hohyun shook his head firmly.

Unlike tigers, foxes were not so “territorial” about sleep. He had grown up as the youngest of five siblings; personal space had never existed. Sleeping packed side by side was his norm. Sharing a bed with his employer—a bit awkward, yes—but not unbearable. Certainly not enough to chase him off.

For a fleeting moment, he did find the suggestion tempting. It would be far more efficient to tidy his luggage than to simply lie awake blinking. But the thought of depending on Kangwoon to wake him early—this tiger, who dragged himself into the common room with half-shut eyes like a zombie every morning—that was a request he could never dare.

If it had been the alligator making the offer, he’d have accepted happily.

So he whispered, so softly he worried his words wouldn’t carry:

“It’s just that it’s too early. Otherwise, I’m fine.”

Low though it was, the words reached the tiger. His glowing eye-rings blinked heavily in agreement. And indeed, listening to the quiet rhythm of Yuri’s breathing was oddly soporific. Perhaps that was why people listened to “sleep-ASMR”—soothing sounds to guide them down. With that stray thought, Hohyun finally closed his eyes.

*

The fox awoke much later, at dawn. What stirred him was a ticklish sensation rising against his ear. As if tickled by a feather, an itch tingled maddeningly until, reflexively, his hindpaw shot out and scratched hard behind his ear.

Relief swept him—then confusion. A foot?

In human form, his feet could never reach his ears. It struck him like ice water down his spine. His eyes snapped open—only to find before him the familiar black pelt and delicate forepaws of his fox body.

He was transformed.

A rush of joy spread through him. At last! He hadn’t intended it, not consciously, but he had successfully shifted. Doctors at the hospital had said not to worry, that improvement was close, but even so—even he hadn’t thought it would come this quickly.

Stretching long, the black fox yawned hugely, overwhelmed with relief. Contacting his family again after buying his phone had been stressful enough, but he had dreaded showing up with four ears—human and fox both mixed on his head like some freak. If he had returned in that condition, his siblings (starting with his youngest elder brother) would never have let him live it down.

He breathed out, heart unclenching. Good. A disaster dodged.

Curiosity pricked him. Could he change back to human now? He shut his eyes tightly, straining to summon the sensation… uncertain. Maybe. Maybe not. The feeling wobbled ambiguously, like holding a slippery thing in one’s hands.

Still—anything was better than the hybrid monstrosity from before. Relief softened his tail, which sagged limply down and thumped loudly against the blanket with its thick fur. Panic. His tail shot straight back up again.

Thankfully, the tigers slumbered on, chests rising and falling steadily. Yet he knew how sharp their senses were. Kangwoon especially—a light sleeper, a bomb waiting to go off at the smallest disturbance. If he wanted to check his condition further, he’d need to sneak outside.

But problem one came fast: clothes. He had gone to bed human, fully dressed. Now his smaller quadruped body swam inside the garments like they were tossed cloaks. If he dared move like this, fabric dragging would surely wake the predators. No, the clothes had to come off.

Using his forepaws, he pressed the front of the dress shirt flat against the mattress, then carefully backed out of it. Success—like a snake shedding skin. The black fox gathered the heap into his teeth, bundling them together unconsciously. He glanced at the side—there was Yuri, sprawled wide across half the bed, arms and legs akimbo as if claiming all.

He chuckled silently and used his muzzle to tug the blanket back up over her small feet. She squirmed, burrowing deeper into the warmth. The fox smiled despite himself, then clamped his teeth around his clothes and tiptoed away.

He nearly slipped off the side of the bed, catching himself at the last instant. Then, padding silently, he reached the door—and balked. The handle loomed high above.

Of course. He’d only ever passed through doors others had opened. He hadn’t thought about height.

Bracing himself, he leapt. His forepaws struck the knob, rattling it noisily. The metallic clatter echoed sharply. This must’ve been the sound I heard back in the study…

Cursing internally, he froze. Surely they’d woken.

Nervously, he turned back—just in time to see them.

A pair of golden eyes gleamed in the darkness.

Fear prickled every hair upright. He nearly screamed aloud—but with his clothes clenched in his mouth, only a muffled strangled noise escaped. His fur bristled stiff as the massive tiger shifted slowly upright.