He’s a Fox Ch 68

Chapter 68

“Moong-moo-ni!”

With a squeal, Yuri stamped her feet, then promptly turned into a small striped cub. Burying her face deep into the plush black puppy she had just received, the baby tiger trembled her tail and whimpered softly.

“Miiiuuuung…”

Rubbing her head against the toy with tail quivering in bliss, she revealed exactly why he, usually the most cautious of men, had braved even a claw machine. Even if another’s hand had ultimately won the prize for him, seeing her this delighted made it worth all the trouble. With her head nestled on the plushie’s long fur, she promptly chomped it between her teeth and padded directly into the fox’s lap. No one could doubt the present satisfied her.

Settled firmly onto Moongmoo Oppa’s knees, Yuri pondered names for her new companion. She already had ‘Moongmoo’ reserved for Hohyun—so this friend needed another. After a moment’s serious frown, she declared the plush black dog should be “Kkamang-i” (meaning Little Black), for its pitch-dark eyes and fur.

Having named it, the cub dug out one of her most beloved fairy-tales. Despite already having read every page by heart before nap, the new “friend” must have stirred nostalgia. Hugging the plush tight, she mouthed every memorized line as she traced illustrations. Then, with solemn conviction, she announced the first activity of the afternoon: house play (make-believe).

The fox, long accustomed to fulfilling roles in her endless scenarios, only braced himself. Yet before she assigned parts, another voice butted in.

“Ahem, young lady.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you think games are more fun… if more people play roles?”

Crocodile, with almost desperate enthusiasm. The child tilted her head, thought briefly, then gave a queen’s nod. Permission granted, the gator immediately dragged in bystanders.

Startled, a black bear and a weasel—previously loitering idle in the garden—found themselves seated cross-legged in a circle around Yuri. One by one, she decreed roles.

“Yuri is daddy. Zebi-uncle is tree.”

“…Excuse me? A… tree?”

“And Bear-uncle is baby.”

“…O-oh. Mm.”

The choices defied all reason. Flabbergasted weasel and bear could only gape. The crocodile, snickering mercilessly, relished their misery until Yuri turned her head and jabbed, “Woni-uncle, you be princess.”

“……”

Three sets of horrified eyes snapped toward him. Two-meter crocodile. Princess. Not prince. Princess.

Meanwhile—Hohyun, still unassigned—lifted a timid hand.

“And me, Yuri?”

“You… you’re puppy, Moongmoo Oppa.”

Of course. Nothing but puppy. Always puppy. He sighed. So, the cast: a father, a tree, a baby, a princess, and a dog. Heaven only knew what story she imagined.

Suspicious gaze flicked again to the crocodile. Indeed, something was off. A princess ought not loom scaly and toothy. Frowning solemnly, the cub dashed into her room and returned wielding… a child’s tiara. Bedazzled, sparkling plastic.

The fox clapped a hand to his mouth to stifle laughter as she thrust it into the reptile’s claws. Who else but the “princess” could wear such gear?

Trembling hands raised the accessory; woeful eyes threatened to wet. Never in his long life had he pictured himself donning such frippery. Yet orders were orders. With resigned martyrdom, he perched it on his massive head. Too small, it barely rested atop his head rather than fitting—but fall it did not. The cub beamed, satisfied.

Delicate veil floated from the tiara’s edge, trailing down over rough armored scales. The sight was…. dire. The weasel winced away, unable to look. The bear pressed lips shut, swallowing laughter.

Props themselves weren’t too odd. But placed upon that monster muzzle—they clashed. Still, duty was duty. Each man gave serious effort—tree with arms stiffly raised, bear curling small against his mass.

The fox, unwilling to transform entirely, compromised by slipping his tail free. A protruding wagging tail delighted their little director. She nodded sagely—perfect.

Then, “Once upon a time…,” the tale began.

But of course, the script was anything but standard.

In her story, the father once dropped a baby into a pond; from it emerged a princess, declaring him unworthy of parenting. She took the child away. Desperate, the father joined forces with his faithful dog, climbing a tree toward heaven to reclaim the baby. Bits of fairy tales tumbled together into a single muddle—nonsense to adults, perfect genius from her tiny lips.

Were it printed, lawsuits for plagiarism might erupt; but this was a three-year-old’s spontaneous dream. To the staff, she showed a budding author’s flair. Applause rained like worship.

Curtain dropped on Act I. Energized by raucous claps, she leapt to an impromptu sequel. New story! New cast! No one spared—roles shuffled rapid. Giggling at first, the older beastmen paled after reaching five, six, seven plays. Keeping up wasn’t easy. Main plot dictated, but individual dialogue freestyled to suit tiny director’s whim. Improvisation demanded wit—and failure risked her wrath.

The fox, eternally cast as “Puppy,” watched sympathetically as colleagues wilted.

And then—tragedy. In the seventh act, the weasel slipped, blurting a line from a previous role.

Yuri’s expression clouded—disappointment and petulance. Even her tail thumped floor darkly. Danger. Already they saw it—soon she’d declare, “Only Puppy plays with me!” and storm off.

Quick-thinking crocodile interjected:

“Seems this one’s no actor. Shall we…try another game?”

“…Another?”

“Yes. Hmm—hide and seek, perhaps?”

Labeled talentless, the weasel minded not. Not trained actor anyway. He readily nodded. At once, crocodile flicked tail to the fox’s back, urging support her choice.

“Oh, hide-and-seek sounds fun!” echoed Hohyun.

“…Moongmoo Oppa, is that what you want?”

The cub crossed arms, frowning at him gravely. He nodded.

After solemn deliberation, she granted a rare boon: “Fine. We’ve played enough house. Now we’ll play hide-and-seek—because Moongmoo wants it.”

Cheers erupted from weary beastmen, liberated from improvisational torment. They had survived the hell of theater.

Alas—they knew not yet. By fleeing one trap, they had wandered straight into the next.

Moongmoo = puppy