He’s a Fox Ch 101

Chapter 101

Hunched small as he could manage, the fox was just as cowed. Working under Kangwoon had made sheer size a nonissue, but the predators in front of him felt entirely different. Their aura reeked of vendetta, as if they were facing a mortal enemy. As he gulped silently, someone shouldered through the wall of hulking bodies.

Dark orange fur deep enough to read as brown, bold black stripes, a firm, powerful jawline. For a split second, his employer came to mind—until the eye color gave it away. The tiger’s eyes were a clear sky blue, far closer to Yuri’s than to Kangwoon’s. Those eyes smiled on a crescent.

“Our awaited guests have arrived.”

“H-ha… It’s been a while, Chairman Beom.”

“Chairman? Hardly. Far too soon for that title. Will you come inside?”

“No, sir! I’m busy. I just came to hand him over.”

“I hear things aren’t going well for you. Don’t worry—I’ll put in a word.”

His tone and words suggested consideration for Kim Kyungseok, yet the wolf didn’t relax; his tail even tucked. Tiger or no, a wolf was no exception to fear.

The tiger, after a few encouraging pats to Kyungseok’s shoulder, noticed the fox tucked under his arm. The moment he saw the short, black‑furred animal, his jaws opened wide.

“And this would be?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Ha-ha-ha!”

Acknowledged by Kyungseok as the correct delivery, the tiger laughed loudly enough to make the air quake. The fox flinched. First, because his looks so strongly echoed Kangwoon’s; second, because that display of delight felt chillingly wrong.

Set aside the eye color and he could have passed for something cast from Kangwoon’s mold; but his manner felt closer to the father’s side. After a hearty laugh, the tiger spoke to Kyungseok in a voice bright with pleasure.

“You’ve worked hard, I see.”

“N-not at all, sir.”

“Good. I heard you’ve had a rough patch; I’ll pass along what needs saying. In return, this matter…”

“I won’t tell a soul! Absolutely not!”

“Good. I do enjoy someone who understands plain speech. I worry I’ve detained a busy man too long. Leave him to me and be on your way.”

The warning flashed in his eyes even before it finished; Kyungseok bobbed his head in quick bows. Pleased at the rigid discipline, the tiger generously dismissed him. The wolf dumped the fox into his arms and fled as if tail afire. The fox stared blankly after the car as it disappeared.

Seeing the wolf—so blustering before the fox—silent now drove home the situation’s severity. He’d first thought Kyungseok, irate at being exposed, had ordered a vengeful kidnapping. But if a tiger stood behind him… things were clearly tangled.

Taking custody of the fox, the tiger spoke in a smooth undertone.

“So. We’ve already met, you and I. Do you remember me?”

“…”

He meant the day the fox had followed Kangwoon to the Beom main house. It was hardly “acquainted,” given they hadn’t even properly exchanged names—but faces had been seen, so he nodded.

Obedient answer given, the eldest of the tiger siblings—Beom Taeryeong—purred low in satisfaction. It could have sounded threatening, but time with a tiger for a lover had taught him: for Felidae, that was simply the sound of pleasure.

Practically humming, the tiger addressed the source of his good mood with calm politeness.

“I’ll apologize for the somewhat rough method. I’m in a hurry.”

If knocking him over the head to force a shift and then kidnapping him was only “somewhat” rough—what, in this tiger’s scale, counted as “very” rough? The fox couldn’t even imagine. The apology was smooth as whipped cream over coffee; still, he couldn’t relax. He’d heard too much about this one.

Wasn’t he the man who, while contesting power with his father, had even tried to kidnap his newborn little sister—and failed—and whose statute of limitations hadn’t yet run? And as the tiger himself implied, the very first time they’d “met,” the fox had seen the fresh scratches on Kangwoon after meeting his only sister. The tiger hadn’t said who had done it—but the context had made it plain. A man who used force even on fellow tigers gave the fox every reason to stay tense.

He’d only wanted to make a sweet memory for a child—and now he seemed on course for an unforgettable one himself. The worst part: the real business hadn’t even begun. Seeing the fox tight as wire, Taeryeong offered what sounded like compensation—choices.

“You’ll need to remain with us for a time. Best to free the legs.”

“…!”

“However, as we are not exactly close, I’d prefer you have at least one restraint. Two choices for you.”

One: leave things as they were. Two: exchange for a different restraint. When the tiger brought out a collar like he’d been waiting to, the fox wavered. He still hadn’t fully shaken his aversion to anything on his neck. But bound legs meant that even if a chance came, he’d likely miss it.

After a hard decision, Taeryeong raised his voice to call someone. “Cheong‑a!” At the crisp name, a silhouette rose from among the beasts at rest. A leopard shouldered past the bulk and flashed sharp claws; the bindings around his legs fell away at once. The cutting power put most scissors to shame.

At least the collar didn’t constrict; small mercies. Having gotten what he wanted, the tiger gave the fox a room at the deepest part of the building. At first it seemed like consideration—but the truth revealed itself quickly enough: it was placement for a plan.

Outside the door—probably once a storage room, judging by the faint dust smell—massive beastmen held position around the clock. The moment the door cracked and a head peeked out, eyes went wide and a growl rolled—guards, unmistakably. And that wasn’t all.

The fox’s assigned room lay at the very back. To leave required a long trek down the corridor—where great predators prowled, here and there. Even the movie spies would struggle to escape this place. And he was no trained agent—just a fox raised in a middle‑class home. His escape odds dropped exponentially.

On top of that, every person he met radiated naked hostility. Some spat. Some cursed. Staring at the cratered “favorability,” his thoughts drifted inevitably to the ones he’d grown closer to lately. The crocodile; the weasel; the bear… and, most of all, the striped predators.

And because the last of those were tigers, big and small alike, they were surely worrying now. Worse—he’d said he was just stepping out and then vanished. There was no one to blame but himself. Better not to show his face and risk more scolding; his range shrank naturally to the room. Head buried in the bed, he watched the moon rise and set three times. After a full three days, he finally gathered himself.