He’s a Fox Ch 46

Chapter 46

The unannounced visitor made Kangwoon frown. He disliked strangers stepping into his private space—if he had to meet others, he preferred neutral ground, never his own home. His address was known only to very few; visits came maybe every few months, and certainly not during a crippling snowstorm.

There were only a handful of people reckless enough to come today. Sure enough, when the tiger opened his door, he found a familiar face grinning back, calling brashly:

“Took you long enough! I almost froze to death out here. Why haven’t you cleared the snow?”

“No one needed to go out.”

“Still… I trudged through all of that! You could’ve at least—”

“What are you even doing here?”

The night had brought another full round of snowfall. Even Kangwoon himself sank to his thighs trying to step outside. Other than the front yard where Yuri would play, the rest of the grounds had been left uncleared—no way a car could pass through. The man before him must have slogged the whole way.

The intruder was a wolf, shaggy winter coat bristling. Kangwoon didn’t indulge him with any sympathy. Showing up unannounced was his mistake. At the cold reception, Hyunseok grumbled:

“You said let’s meet another time, but I never heard from you! So I came!”

Kangwoon rubbed his temples—there was no winning. He couldn’t very well leave him to the storm. Stepping aside, he jerked his chin—a gruff invitation. Hyunseok smirked, tail flicking as he entered.

Just then, Hohyun’s eyes widened. Though the wolf’s beast traits were more pronounced than the last time they met, fox could still recognize canines easily. Winter had fluffed Hyunseok’s coat into heavy fuzz; tail wagged lightly in greeting. Hohyun wagged his own in return.

They might have exchanged longer courtesies—but Yuri shot in between, tugging at Doggie Oppa’s hand: “Moong-moo Oppa, hurry!” Impatient with the delay, the cub dragged him back toward the snow. Hyunseok laughed, helpless.

“Didn’t even get to say hello properly.”

“Do it later,” Kangwoon muttered.

“Sure… Still, he looks better. Is the transformation problem fixed?”

“For the most part. Sometimes he still loses control.”

Kangwoon’s eyes followed the fox out the window—tailing Yuri eagerly through the snowdrifts. Hyunseok teased:

“Yuri’s thrilled, isn’t she? First time seeing snow?”

“Yeah. Last year, it never snowed.”

“Right… and two years ago, she couldn’t even babble yet. No wonder she doesn’t remember.”

They talked, but Kangwoon’s gaze stayed fixed outside. Out in the yard, two shapes tumbled: one large rice cake, one small, waddling about in thickly padded clothes. From afar, they looked like snowmen walking among snowmen—a sight both comical and endearing. Kangwoon caught himself smiling faintly.

Hyunseok noticed, puzzled, and followed his line of sight. But instead of Yuri bounding circles, Kangwoon’s eyes seemed pinned elsewhere—on the black-haired fox.

If it’d been the cub, his gaze would have tracked her chaotic paths. But no—his attention lingered on one point. Hyunseok, frowning, revived a hypothesis Kangwoon had denied before.

“…So you really mean the two of you aren’t dating?”

“What? Do you even know how old he is?”

“He told me—twenty-one.”

“Exactly. And I’m thirty-one. What kind of relationship would that be?”

Ten years. When Kangwoon was starting college, Hohyun hadn’t even finished elementary school. A romance? Impossible, unacceptable.

Hyunseok shrugged. “So what? As long as he’s not a minor, it shouldn’t matter. Or are you forgetting your cousin Yena? She married eleven years her senior. Hell, your parents are thirteen years apart.”

He was right. Kangwoon’s parents had been bound by arranged ties, thirteen years apart. Yena’s case had been similar—married off against politics, though they later grew fond. But Kangwoon brushed it aside.

“And what of it.”

“…Forget it. You’re no fool. You’ll handle yourself.”

Hyunseok patted his shoulder, then added sincerely:

“Trust me—a denial only makes it harder. Just admit it, you’ll feel lighter.”

“Keep spouting nonsense and I’ll throw you out.”

Not eager to be tossed back into deep snow, Hyunseok wisely shut up. His pocket buzzed; Kangwoon lifted his phone. Caller ID: ‘Mother.’

“Hello.”

[Kangwoon?]

“Yes, Mother. What’s the matter?”

[What else? Wondering when my son will finally visit home.]

It had been months. Checking his calendar, Kangwoon asked:

“I can come, but will Father be free?”

[It’s year’s end, he’s still tied up—but nearly finished.]

“Then next week, I’ll visit.”

[Good. Oh—make free some time early next month.]

“…What for?”

Anxiety flickered instantly. Hyunseok’s ears pricked nearby, face grim. At thirty-one, Kangwoon had heard the comments often: When will you marry? He dreaded it. His mother dropped the blow casually.

[Your uncle arranged introductions. Go once.]

“I don’t need blind dates.”

His expression flattened immediately.

“If Father clears his schedule, just text me.”

[…Alright. See you next week, son.]

“Goodbye.”

He hung up, and Hyunseok gave him a pitying look.

“So it begins, huh? Who’s the candidate?”

“No idea. Probably some junior from Mother’s clan.”

The Beom matriarch’s family prized pure-blood obsession—tiger with tiger, wolf with wolf. So his suitors would be tigers only. The problem was, all older tigresses already had mates, and his age bracket held only men. Which left girls five, six years his junior. He sighed. The oldest was what, twenty-five? A stranger he barely remembered. A waste of time compared to napping with Yuri.

Hyunseok clicked his tongue. “Old folks and their pure-blood pride… What era do they think we’re in?”

His hybrid blood—human and wolf—made his disdain personal. His childhood had been filled with nothing but discrimination. His sullen eyes told the story. Judging from his gloom, his sudden visit here was likely spurred after enduring yet another tirade from his family.

He slapped his cheeks, forcing vigor, then strode outside. Joining fox and cub at snowmen was his healing.

Through the glass, Kangwoon watched him exaggeratedly whine to Yuri—no doubt pretending to be sad she hadn’t greeted him properly. She pulled him away, showing him her army of snowmen. But moments later, she set him to work, brushing heaps of snow off their heads.

At last she dragged him to one statue, chattering. Hyunseok’s face lit, moved—apparently, his snowman. So overcome, he hoisted Yuri onto his shoulders, running in circles under her squeals.

Kangwoon rose. Pleasant to watch, but he had unfinished business indoors. Yet as he stepped, his eyes returned once more to the fox.

Cold reddened Hohyun’s nose. Hyunseok offered a handkerchief, which the fox waved away in surprise. After brief insistence, he accepted, wiping and smiling awkwardly.

He even tried to pocket it, but Hyunseok shook his head, reclaiming it. After that, the fox’s eyes grew bright—peppered with questions, tail whipping faster.

The tiger knew this sight. Hohyun had been curious even in mute fox form. His eager questions were never unpleasant.

Still, as he watched the snow scatter from each sweep of that wagging tail—flurries rising with each flick—Kangwoon sighed, unsettled. Feelings stirred, unclear. He cursed inwardly.

All because Kim Hyunseok planted foolish ideas in his head.

He clicked his tongue and looked away.