He’s a Fox Ch 86

Chapter 86

Since almost everyone around him wore dark, somber clothes, Kangwoon rarely bothered with bright suits. Put him in one and he would stand out like a white heron hurled into a murder of crows. Not his preference—until his fox’s eyes shone with such heated enthusiasm that refusal became impossible.

He called over a clerk, disappeared into the fitting room, stripped, and donned the grayish‑lavender suit Hohyun had chosen. When he stepped out, the fox’s jaw dropped.

He had thought it would look good—but seeing it in reality left him breathless. Beyond expectation; beyond imagination. A sigh escaped him, warped by awe, and his face practically crumpled as though on the verge of tears. He emitted small whines, circling his tiger in disbelief.

Kangwoon’s tail swayed with pleased amusement.

That was only the beginning. Suit after suit, shirt after shirt—the fox darted from mannequin to mannequin, forepaws tapping the display, making selections; the tiger humored each one, disappearing and re‑emerging changed. Staff members exchanged puzzled looks. A fox choosing clothes like a discerning human, while a stately tiger indulged him with a faint smile—what exactly were they witnessing?

When at last every garment of interest had been inspected, the unusual play ended. Kangwoon moved to the register, card in hand, while the fox trotted close and tugged insistently at his trouser hem. The meaning was clear: carry me.

Satisfied, the tiger’s golden eyes narrowed as he scooped him up. The fox slid into place unconsciously, as though being held were now second nature.

So it was that, precisely as intended, rumors spread like wildfire: Beom Kangwoon, reclusive second son of the Beom clan, had emerged in public with… a fox. A black fox. And stranger still—it didn’t seem entirely animal. In just days, messages poured in from acquaintances who rarely dared speak to him.

When had he acquired such a “hobby”? Why black of all things? Would he be willing to exchange it for something “better”? The tones ranged from meddling to subtle invitation. Kangwoon flipped through the messages boredly, then turned the phone face‑down.

Tedious as it was, the scheme had worked. The rumor was planted. Amur could no longer claim his cousin hadn’t delivered. Kangwoon had provided the bait; if results failed, blame lay with the fishermen.

And indeed—posing as potential buyers, Kangwoon had no trouble drawing responses. Too easily, information spilled. In the same weeks Amur had scoured for leads without success, his elder did so with scarcely an effort. Had Amur seen, he might have choked on sheer envy.

Information secured, Kangwoon transmitted the compiled data. Amur’s reply was a flood of thank‑yous—so overflowing that even his gratitude arrived, in person, the following morning before dawn.

The doorbell rang; Kangwoon opened the door with visible irritation, but was ignored as Amur barged straight for the fox’s room. Half‑asleep, Hohyun found a bouquet thrust into his arms.

“Truly—thank you!”

The bouquet’s diameter easily exceeded thirty centimeters, roses bursting in excess. The bewildered fox swayed, face half‑buried in petals, while Amur rattled on energetically.

“The flowers aren’t the main thing—it felt empty to bring nothing. The real gift is this.”

“…Uh, yes?”

As if the bouquet itself weren’t enough, the tiger cousin pressed another item forward: a small, featureless black card.

“It’s for pocket money. No limit. Use it as you like!”

“…!”

The fox gasped. An unlimited card, delivered so lightly, when all he’d done was pick out suits? His hands trembled visibly, wholly unfit to hold such a thing.

Kangwoon, watching from behind, clicked his tongue.

“Cash would be simpler.”

“Bah—that ruins the presentation. I thought about money bouquets, but this is cleaner.”

The fox’s eyes darted between them, stunned at the strangeness. A Western tiger bestowing blank‑faced luxury cards as allowance—and an Eastern tiger critiquing, not the act, but the practicality. Was this dream?

But no, the heavy bouquet’s rose scent was sharp and real.

Trying to refuse, he raised the card, but Amur cut him short.

“Thanks to you, I may get to go home much sooner. So take it—it’s gratitude.”

“…Still, this is too…”

“And, listen. For now, stick by your tiger’s side always. If you feel someone tailing you, call right away. Don’t walk dark alleyways.”

Was it sincere caution, or just another way of refusing refusal? Hard to say. His nagging only ceased when his phone buzzed. Checking the screen, Amur’s grin spread wider.

“Well then—the gift ceremony’s over. The unwanted guest will take his leave.”

“Off to work so early?” Kangwoon asked skeptically.

“No… I have to go see my puppy.”

“Puppy?” both Kangwoon and Hohyun echoed.

The fox’s nose twitched. The roses nearly drowned all scent, but what drifted was canine—not sharp and bright but familiar. Most of it, in fact, belonged to Jeong Yuwol, the hulking black dog who’d visited with him before.

“…Don’t tell me,” Kangwoon said flatly.

“Sure, it’s him!” Amur beamed—and bolted before they could ask further.

The bouquet dropped onto the desk. The fox stared at the door dumbly. The guest had appeared without warning, vanished just as abruptly, leaving only shock behind.

In that shock, he forgot the card entirely. Only a week later, staring at the dried roses, did his eyes catch the sliver of black half-hidden among stalks.

Right. The card.

An item that would outrank any “things one must never accept from another.” He dropped his head into his hands. With most issues he could simply pass responsibility to Kangwoon, but this—this was beyond that.

After long hesitation, he realized: the only man who might know where Amur was—was Jeong Yuwol.