He’s a Fox Ch 55

Chapter 55

The handsome man, dressed casually in a comfortable shirt, was half-reclined against the dining table as he spoke over the phone. That—precisely that—was the fox’s current problem.

His sole employer had begun transforming into human form more frequently whenever work demanded an outside appearance. People said humans were the most adaptive animals, and indeed: the more often Hohyun saw him, the less fear he felt. But the malfunctions persisted. Each time their eyes met, Hohyun froze like prey caught in headlights.

When Kangwoon noticed the little fox staring at him blankly, entranced, his lips moved silently, shaping words only for him: I’ll clean this up later—go to bed first. Then, eye corners crinkling, he smiled.

That smile nearly robbed Hohyun of breath. He turned hastily, stumbling back to his room, shutting the door with confusion smeared across his face.

Of course beastmen could shift into human guise—what had been stranger was that the tiger had insisted for so long on remaining in half-beast form. But the problem lay not in him, but in Hohyun himself. Each time he faced his employer’s human-self, his brain short-circuited.

The worst? The day the tiger emerged fresh from the shower. A soaked Adonis—and the fox shattered.

And so came the dangerous thought:

…Do I… like my Boss?

Watching him made his heart hammer, his fur stand on end. On paper, it sounded like fear—but he knew it wasn’t that. The sensation matched too perfectly those “symptoms” media always described: the rush of romance.

Impossible. And yet—he buried his face in his hands.

Now aware, he couldn’t un-hear the thunder in his chest. Tomorrow he’d have to see Kangwoon’s face again—how could he survive it? A small mercy: Kangwoon was scheduled to leave for the family estate again. Initially he had thought to remain alone in the Den—but at the last moment, plans changed. Only one day this time. And so Hohyun decided: He’d go home as well.

His mind tangled. Setting aside whether this was real affection, the larger question loomed—was it even possible? Kangwoon was flawless—status, strength, looks. What need would such a man have for him? Even the thought of “maybe” forced reality’s weight down until he flailed, muffled in bed, kicking at sheets.

—

The next morning, the fox appeared pale-eyed at the breakfast table.

Beside him, Yuri lit up with excitement, chattering about the trip to Grandparents’ House. She gushed about all the toys, then turned with shining face:

“Today, Moong-moo Oppa, come too!”

A tiger cub’s innocent plea. Immediately, Kangwoon countered with a lie, deadpan:

“What about your father?”

At once, Yuri blinked—the excuse strong enough to remind her. Their father, Beom Jaegwon, the mountain of a man, had somehow gained the absurd diagnosis of “dog phobia” thanks to his son’s invention.

And so, reluctantly, she deflated.

The irony wasn’t lost on Hohyun. In reality, the cub who had never flinched before boars or beasts thought dog-brother was nothing but kind and beautiful. How could anyone fear him? But—if Father was scared, then that was that. Her little tail drooped, conceding.

Kangwoon’s defense had worked, and Hohyun held in a sigh of relief. Nearly kidnapped along to the estate, he had escaped. He chatted kindly to Yuri for the rest of breakfast, overcompensating from guilt.

The cub stared at him with dreamy eyes, then clenched her tiny fists, expression firm. Some decision was locked inside her. Only Kangwoon noticed—and chose not to care. If any of Father’s wrath sparked later, well—that might even prove amusing.

Unaware of private conspiracies, the fox merely exhaled relief.

—

After sending Yuri off, Hohyun messaged his sister-in-law:

[Anything I should bring?]

She replied minutes later—likely busy at work: Nothing needed. Just watch if the kids are eating properly.

He wondered if the children would even be at home—usually midday found them outdoors. But obediently, he answered okay and boarded his bus.

The trip stretched dull, until fate intervened. By the roadside… the little white pup again—the one he had fed before. Dirty, unkempt as ever. Without thought, he bought food and water. But unlike last time, this time the pup looked wary, tail no longer wagging frantically. The fox’s chest ached. Perhaps kindness had made it too trusting before. Now it grew cautious, as it should. He left quietly, sighing.

Finally, he arrived home.

Beep beep. The lock chimed. From inside—thudding, crashing. Not unusual with many pups. But the sound of their paws—not footsteps. They were in beast form.

He braced. Handling rambunctious children was one thing. Handling them as large dogs? Another.

Click. He opened cautiously—noses burst out with comic pop! sounds.

Pink, blotched muzzles, mottled from incomplete pigmentation, snuffled furiously at his scent.

With a resigned breath, he swung wider—and was immediately tackled.

“Uff!!”

Thick snouts rammed his chest. Just one pup like this was trouble. Two—insurmountable.

Coughing, stumbling, he fought to stay upright as tails lashed thunderous, paws battering his ribs.

“W-woah, ow! Careful!”

The twins had grown into calves already, their bodies promising the giant stature of their parents. Round ears and curved puppy-faces betrayed their age, but in build they already towered above normal dogs.

Hohyun staggered across the entryway, forcing them back step by step until at last he shut the door.

Finally he took in their appearance properly: each wore a little neck-scarf, and their noses glistened wetter than usual. It wasn’t hard to see—colds.

Season changes always spread sickness fastest among kindergartners. With many siblings, contagion was unavoidable: one ill meant all fell sequentially. A few sniffles and mild coughs were no great danger.

Snrrrk. The eldest, Yejun, sniffled mightily. “Aigoo…” Hohyun murmured.

When beast-children unwell, transformation control suffered. Better to let them remain beasts—from human form they might shift by accident, complicating further. Cough—little twin, Yejin, hacked softly, tail still wagging.

The fox tore tissue free from the hall roll, gently wiped the dripping nose.

—