He’s a Fox Ch 51

Chapter 51

“Uncle isn’t food.”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not that you can’t eat him… but you mustn’t.”

“…Ugh.”

The fox shook his head at the blunt little shouts of his elementary-school-aged nephews, whose honest logic shattered the tender mood. Ignoring it, Yejun asked curiously:

“But why are you even asking that?”

“Yeah, why suddenly snacks?”

The twins pressed him with suspicion until Hohyun surrendered the truth.

“I want to give a present to a little one—two years younger than Seon. But I don’t know what she’d like best.”

“Ohhh, that baby that called earlier?”

“Yeah.”

The day Yuri measured her height for the first time, Hohyun had made a promise: When you grow as tall as other three-year-olds, I’ll give you a present. It had been a desperate improvisation to cheer her up, but had left him a real dilemma. Toys, picture books, clothes—she already received more than enough from Kangwoon.

By process of elimination, the only thing left was food. And since Kangwoon himself had said Yuri’s meat-only diet would end once she passed average height, simple treats suddenly became a viable option. Which meant something popular among children.

In other words, Hohyun had launched a miniature survey. After polling the twins, he turned once again to his youngest niece, Seon. As grateful as he was that she claimed to “love Uncle the most,” he couldn’t very well feed Yuri an uncle.

“So Seon, what snack do you like best?”

“Um… hot choco.”

“You mean cocoa?”

“Mmhm.”

At first he wondered why of all things—but then realized: candy and cookies could be had any time from the corner store, but hot cocoa needed hot milk—meaning the microwave. And unfortunately, Seon was still too short to reach on her own.

Her third-eldest uncle was often absent. Her big sister was busy with office work. Her parents weren’t fond of chocolate because of cavities. The only ones who had made cocoa for her were Hohyun and their second brother. But now, Hohyun lived away, and the second brother had moved into his wife’s family. So Seon could hardly get it anymore.

Feeling sorry, Hohyun quickly fetched a pack from the cupboard. After boiling milk, they all shared steaming mugs of cocoa together. Sweet, warm. It seemed perfect—Yuri would like it. He resolved to buy cocoa packs from the supermarket before returning to the Tiger’s Den.

Grateful to the helper who had solved his problem, he scooped Seon up high in triumph. With the twins gone off to help their mother, there was no interruption. His voice sank into mock-drama sweetness.

“My pretty Seon, you solved all Uncle’s problems today.”

Close to her ear he whispered thanks, punctuating each word with noisy smooches. She giggled until she fell breathless, golden tail whipping the air so fast it left blurred afterimages.

Seeing that, someone drawled lazily: “Careful, you’ll break her tail like that…”

Hohyun flinched, glancing—there, shuffling in, orange hair all mussed, half-lidded eyes bright despite their sleepiness, was his fourth brother, Ye Ihyeon.

“You’re just getting up now?” Hohyun asked incredulously.

“Yeahhh. Had a deadline this morning…” Ihyeon mumbled, stretching with a yawn so wide it near unhinged his jaw.

Hohyun scooted aside; he knew better than to leave his drowsy brother wandering—many a bruised knee from cornering furniture during these states. Immediately, Ihyeon plopped down right beside him.

“Too close. Move over!” Hohyun shoved, grimacing.

“Don’t be mean to your big bro just because it’s been awhile. So cold, Ho-ya…” Ihyeon made an exaggerated sad face, fake-wiping tears with his sleeve. Normally Hohyun would’ve kicked him, but today he let it slide—it truly had been long. He sighed, enduring.

Then Ihyeon reached across and poked Seon’s cheek.

“Got all excited ‘cause Uncle’s here, huh, little one?”

“Mm.”

She wriggled but smiled. Cute enough that Ihyeon chuckled before yawning again. His brother quipped bluntly, “If you’re going to sleep, go sleep properly.”

“I can’t. Gotta wait for a message.”

“…Message?”

“Freelancers don’t clock out when the deadline’s over. Gotta wait for client’s OK… After that, I’ve got to clean my room, too.”

Right on cue, his phone chimed. At first Ihyeon grinned at the screen, then his face dimmed. A bad reply. He sighed heavily, then looked straight at Hohyun.

“Ho-ya, you free?”

“…Yeah. Why?”

“Then after the kids sleep, help me out.”

Likely not work, just room-cleaning. With nothing else planned later, Hohyun readily agreed.

—

That evening, parents and sister returned. Nearly the entire clan was gathered—the only absent being the third son, newly married and living away. Seeing his youngest child after so long, Father and Mother expressed joy in their way: food. Piles of fruit. Sweets beyond measure.

They ate mountains, and when the kids went off to bed, adults lingered in the living room.

Then, seized by brotherly grip, Hohyun was dragged halfway to Ihyeon’s bedroom.

The moment he stepped in, he frowned. Not dirty—just chaotic. Books spilled out, stacked like walls. Deadline frenzy again, clearly.

Still, did adulthood excuse this disaster? His glare shot daggers at the older brother, who chuckled sheepishly, averting eyes. Ignoring him, Hohyun grabbed the heavy tomes first. One sorted big things before small. He stacked volumes neatly back into shelves.

“…Can you at least sort them by colors?” Ihyeon tried hopefully.

“No chance. Do it yourself.”

With swift rhythm, the fox filled the shelves, opening clear floor space. Then moved to the desk, littered with notes and pens. Atop the chaos sat a pile of photos.

Ah yes—his brother’s hobby. Whether landscape, animal, or human, if Ihyeon found it beautiful, he photographed it, developed prints, and pinned them close. Favorites were framed on his desk.

The pile suggested he had meant to sort them after deadline. Hohyun left them, focusing on pens—but then his eyes caught a frame at the corner.

Usually the same old pictures remained. Today, however, he saw a new one.

Inside the frame: his brother, grinning wide, arm slung over another’s shoulder. The companion was striking—eyes tilting upward, lovely. Quality too fine for a phone shot, so it must’ve been a camera—how in the world did he manage a one-handed selfie with such a thing?

But Hohyun’s breath held not at the feat, but at the intimacy. Captured in a paper scrap, a blink of time looked suffused with joy, too close for just friendship.

“Who’s… that?” he asked quietly.