He’s a Fox Ch 69

Chapter 69

The first seeker was, half by force of circumstance, Hohyun. It wasn’t that he had volunteered, but the rule had been decided as rock-paper-scissors. He figured—what were the odds? He hadn’t tripped or fallen once lately, surely luck might allow him even one win.

But in the end… defeat. Out of five players, somehow everyone else threw the exact same sign, while he alone stood different. Watching his solitary fist in shame, he resigned himself to the wall. Clearly, today was not his day.

“…One… two… three…”

As he counted slowly up to thirty, the others scrambled away.

Opening his eyes, he stepped forward and immediately spotted something amid the cushions of the couch. A little striped tail, poking out between them. His lips twitched upward.

Too small, she perhaps thought herself hidden by those few piled cushions. A cute mistake. Finding her now would be too soon, leaving the cub sulking. So instead of pouncing, the fox snapped a photo, then exaggerated a sigh.

“Where is everyone? I just can’t find them…”

His voice stretched woeful, deliberately overdone. Sure enough, the tail twitched guiltily. Even from hiding, Yuri wavered—should she reveal herself to help her Doggy Oppa? After a moment, she decided no. The tail stilled. Smothering laughter, the fox moved on, “discovering” the crocodile crouched behind the table.

At first, everyone played lazily. Time passed, people intentionally “got caught” easily, sometimes letting the cub be “found” as well. Each time, the adults showered her with praise—“Such a clever hiding place!”—until her nose glowed pink from pride.

But over time, things escalated. A strange fire lit in the adults’ hearts. The lighthearted game mutated into a competition. Hiding places grew desperate, unreachable. When caught, some even grimaced in genuine frustration.

When Hohyun saw the black bear trying to climb the ceiling, he lost words entirely.

What is this madness…?

Soon, the fox bore the shameful record: “most times seeker in shortest duration.” In truth, he was perhaps the best-suited—Canidae were natural trackers—but against sheer brute strength, the odds stacked. No matter how sharp his nose or eyes, how did he match someone clinging to rafters?

At last, just freed of being seeker, he turned—only to see the weasel squeezing behind a refrigerator, fully reverted to beast form. His jaw dropped. Enough. If the others went this far, then he too would play his hidden card. With solemn face, he strode toward a space no one else dared enter.

Knock-knock.

“…Come in.”

Permission granted. He slipped through the study door.

Behind the desk, the tiger sat reviewing papers. Head bent, pen scratching, wholly unaware—until he raised eyes and widened at the fox.

“…Weren’t you playing with Yuri?”

“We’re playing hide-and-seek. So… may I hide in here for a bit?”

“…Fine.”

Quickly he closed the door and took a seat upon the sofa, intending to stay until someone else was caught. The tiger gave him a look.

“You’ll hide there?”

“Yes!”

“The entrance is too obvious. Door opens, you’ll be seen at once.”

Of course, it was unlikely anyone would dare barge into the patriarch’s private study to search. Still, his expression showed disapproval. He offered mildly:

“If it looks like you’ll be found, change into fox form and come closer. I’ll hide you.”

The assurance, so casual yet weighty, filled him with trust. He nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’ll just finish these urgent pages. Stay as you like.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sat quietly, pretending calm—but in truth, most of his gaze belonged not to the room, but the man. One hand braced against his chin, expression faintly disinterested, eyes scanning words by fountain pen scratch…and somehow the sight itself fascinated him.

Even just looking at his face is entertaining, he thought. In humanoid form, no tail thumped floors, no ear flicks betrayed mood. Only the scratch of pen broke the silence. And when eyes rose, meeting his gawking stare—

“You’ll burn holes in my trousers at this rate. What, want me to let the tail out?”

“Yes!!”

Instant response. So the tiger obliged—shifting soundlessly into beast form. The great striped tail stretched, looped around the fox’s waist, reeling him close. Now within arm’s length, he could watch every hair.

Watching sleek sheen along the back of his massive head, he noticed a small pale patch behind one ear. It looked extra fluffy. Fingers itched. Surely harmless—after all, the tiger never asked permission before mouthing his own face or hands. Deciding this was fair exchange, he extended a hand.

Twitch.

The ear flicked, but no rebuke came. Encouraged, he kneaded gently. Fluffy, soft, springy cartilage. So soft?! His image of tigers, armored head to toe, shattered. Woolgathering turned giddiness; his fingers worked longer.

A sigh escaped. The fox froze, withdrawing guiltily. Had he hurt him? But when he glanced up—yellow eyes gleamed, and suddenly the stripes melted; in his place, the tall man sat once more, regarding him.

Why transform now—? His throat bobbed hard.

Before any words, banging at the door jolted them both. The fox panicked, searching wildly. Yet the study brimmed only with shelves, a desk, and sofa—not enough to hide him.

While he flailed like prey, the predator turned his chair back and simply tapped his knee.

Here.