He’s a Fox Ch 94

Chapter 94

There were too many little changes to count—furniture rearranged, new odds and ends—but the most striking difference was the large tree now dominating the living room. With Christmas around the corner, they must have dug it out from the depths of storage and set it up.

Judging by the stacked ornament boxes beside it, the decorating hadn’t started yet. Hohyun trotted over and peered into the boxes at the baubles inside.

When he lived alone, space had been so cramped he couldn’t even think about keeping a tiny succulent, much less a tree. Seeing a tree this close felt like the first time in ages. Candy-cane ornaments that looked edible enough to bite, glitter‑dusted miniature snowmen, and finger-length little sleighs—each trinket made something warm stir.

Fingering a snowman figurine, he suddenly thought of where he was living now. While the world filled up with carols, lights, and trees, the tiger’s den remained astonishingly quiet.

It was Christmas—were they not going to do anything? Between the height‑marking on the wall and things like this, there was a peculiar austerity about such domestic rituals. As he tilted his head, curious, a bright notification trill chirped from Minhyun’s pants pocket as the older brother watched him inspect ornaments. The effect chime—clear as a bird—had him checking his phone immediately, and his face lit up.

The change was so stark he seemed like a different person. Hohyun could guess why. The corner of his mouth creeping upward said one thing plainly: a message from the younger sister‑in‑law. After tapping the screen lightly, the second brother said in his usual tone,

“Your sister‑in‑law and the kids took the parents out.”

“Really? No wonder I didn’t see them.”

“Christmas is close.”

Minhyun rapped a tree branch with a finger. The plastic needles trembled under the tap. Watching the shiver for a moment, he glanced back at Hohyun.

“I’ll head out when Seori gets back in the afternoon. What about you?”

“I…”

At the question about his return time, he reflexively glanced at the clock—and flinched. The hour hand had leaped far forward since he’d arrived. How had it gotten so late? If the sun had set, he wouldn’t normally have cared, but today he’d come with someone. He hurried to the veranda to check on Kangwoon.

The moment he leaned out, their gazes met. Had the tiger really been watching this way the whole time? Not his intent, but realizing he’d made his lover stand there like a wall screen left him flustered, biting his lip.

Below, the tiger—who had been watching his restless fidgeting quite clearly—lifted a hand in an easy wave at the sight of his foot‑stamping fox.

It was just an acknowledgement, but the fox’s face shifted like he’d made up his mind. He vanished back inside. Not even a minute later, faint running footsteps approached. The tiger clicked his tongue softly as the fox burst from the building. He’ll trip again at that pace. Sliding off the hood, he strode quickly, closing the distance lest his one and only tumble.

With both moving, the already short gap vanished in a blink. As soon as the fox came within reach, the tiger caught his left forearm—lightly, not to hurt—then guided him toward the car.

He accepted the apology for making him wait, and felt a cluster of eyes from above. He glanced up; a small crowd leaned over the spot where the fox had been standing, peering down. He’d noticed it earlier, too—they all looked a lot like him.

Naturally, given they were siblings born to the same parents. The tiger inclined his head in a quiet bow. Apparently not expecting it, they bowed back, a bit dazed. It seemed resemblance ran deeper than faces.

Unaware that the tiger had exchanged light greetings with his siblings, the fox slid into the passenger seat. Once he’d checked nothing was caught outside, the tiger shut the door and got into the driver’s seat. Since his lover still looked guilty despite his earlier apology, he offered a fresh topic.

“So—did you meet everyone?”

“Just my brothers and sister. My parents and my oldest sister‑in‑law took the kids out…”

He’d bolted the moment he saw the time, so he hadn’t heard details, but odds were good the twins had initiated the outing. Old enough to know that Santa’s presents came from adult wallets, they likely struck a deal with Seon‑i: in exchange for keeping their mouths shut, they got to pick their Christmas presents directly.

While the fox pondered the missing magic in his niece and nephews’ hearts, the tiger reached over and buckled his seatbelt. The hand came inward; the space between them collapsed to nearly zero. Practically an embrace. He held his breath; the tiger spoke as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Since you came all this way, you could’ve stayed longer.”

“Ah, well. I’ve already been too long.”

Even if the tiger had said to take as much time as he wanted, leaving someone standing outside that long was rude. If there’d been anything nearby, it would’ve been fine; what could anyone do in an empty lot? So as soon as he realized the time, the fox grabbed his things and ran.

The other siblings—especially Minhyun—had been reluctant to let him go, but once he explained someone was waiting outside, no one tried to stop him. He’d left with the second brother’s promise that next time they’d meet as three—with the younger sister‑in‑law—and a parting wave from the third, who’d emerged from his room.

But contrary to the fox’s worries, the tiger truly didn’t mind. Bored? Perhaps—but thinking of his Canidae lover, whose face always brightened at any mention of family, made that much easy to bear. If anything urgent had come up, people would have called. Granted, they did have to fetch the little princess later, so they’d need to go by evening.

Even as he said he could have stayed longer, a pleased smile bloomed on the tiger’s face. How could he not be happy, when his lover had cut short a reunion with a family he adored—just for him? The corners of his mouth lifted high. He tapped his forehead gently against the fox’s, then rubbed, feline with full belly and fuller heart.

“If you want to come again, say so.”

“…Okay.”

Faced with that playful affection, the fox squeezed his eyes shut, answering in a voice that trembled at the edge. Satisfied, the tiger drew back. Since the driver was now properly driving, the fox didn’t dare touch him; he leaned his head against the window instead.

His face was still warm, fogging the glass with breath. Through the blurry pane, lights outside shimmered. He tilted to find a clear patch and peered out. The tiny bulbs sprinkled across the street trees made him think again of the house, and the Christmas tree there. He glanced at the tiger, still focused on the road, and asked,

“Um, Boss. Do you not do trees and stuff?”

“Tree?”

“Yes. Christmas is soon.”

“Well… I’ve never really made a point of it. If you want to, we can prepare one, but there might be a problem or two.”

Not a refusal—more a non‑encouraging, hedged answer. What problems could a tree possibly cause? He’d expected a simple “not my taste,” and the ambiguity showed on his face.

They didn’t settle it then. Between picking up Yuri and heading home, the question of why the Beoms didn’t prepare for Christmas slipped his mind. Exactly four days later, he learned why the tiger had answered so vaguely.

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