He’s a Fox Ch 112

Chapter 112 Side Story 7

After the long shaft withdrew completely, Hohyun lay flat, catching only his breath. His whole body was slick with sweat, his rear still felt slightly open, but he didn’t want to do anything at all. Part of him wanted to just sleep, but even that made him uneasy.

While he wrestled with his thoughts, Kangwoon gathered the sheets and wrapped Hohyun up. Letting himself be carried to the bathroom in that hold, Hohyun’s eyes fell on the bed that had hosted them for the past several hours. The large mattress had slipped outside the frame.

The reason was all too obvious, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. No wonder the creaking had sounded so loud… Kangwoon was amazing for causing such a phenomenon, but even more astonishing was himself for taking such rough, relentless thrusting with his whole body—enough to dislodge a mattress that big.

At that rate, it felt like his insides must have bruised. It wasn’t a place he could check with the naked eye, so the truth was unknown. Still, given that he was alive, he supposed he was sturdy enough. While he reassessed his own durability, the tiger—having successfully hauled his utterly spent lover into the bathroom—ran a bath.

Soaking together in hot water and easing the fatigue hadn’t been bad. It was tiring, yes, but that was nothing new. The real aftershock hit the next day. Even after waking, Hohyun couldn’t leave the bed for a long time.

It was as if every muscle in his body had risen in protest; nowhere was free of pain. Unable even to groan properly, he lay there, his world confined to the bed. As he realized how daunting a statement it had been to say he could withstand a large carnivore’s rut, the tiger cub came to the bedroom to see Moongmoo Oppa, who couldn’t move.

Though she didn’t know why he hurt, Yuri brought toys with a wish for his quick recovery, and Hohyun was deeply moved; basking in that affection, the happy cub burrowed by his side.

The first-ever level of muscle soreness lasted for days. Perhaps because the room he lay in was Kangwoon’s bedroom, the other beastfolk didn’t set foot inside. Whether that secretly pleased him or not, the room was filled with soft, throaty purring without end.

Perhaps thanks to that, Yuri’s vigilance—once at its peak, keeping anyone from approaching—eased a great deal. While the crocodile, finally managing to draw closer, shed tears of relief, other things happened as well; the biggest was that the Yes’ family’s second son finally had a daughter after a long wait.

In place of Minhyun, who was overwhelmed caring for his newborn daughter and wife after nearly a year of hardship, it was Suhyeon who delivered the news.

“—So, since our little brother looked completely out of it, I called. Oh, and you, the youngest—don’t take Ye Ihyeon’s calls for a while.”

“…Huh? Why all of a sudden?”

“Why do you think? He’s bored and wants to drag you out for drinks again.”

The eldest and second brothers, with families to care for, were out. Suhyeon, their sister, didn’t want to go drinking and get an earful later, so the only one left was the youngest, Hohyun. Being summoned because drinking alone was lonely was nothing new, but the Suhyeon Hohyun knew didn’t usually meddle in such matters.

He was an adult, so what of it? It was uncharacteristic advice from Suhyeon, who alone espoused benign neglect when the brothers, seeing the baby-faced youngest, tended to overprotect. Perhaps sensing that in her tone, she added an explanation.

“Last time, it seemed your tolerance dropped. If the two of you go out and both end up plastered, things will get complicated—so don’t drink.”

At her firm injunction, Hohyun cast back to the last time he’d drunk. How much had he had…

“Noona. About the last time we ate together.”

“The day we went with Ye Ihyeon, the three of us? Why bring that up?”

“Yeah. Do you remember how many bottles I had?”

“That day? About four, I think.”

“Four…”

With Suhyeon’s answer dredged up from memory, Hohyun sifted through his own hazy recollection. Images of green bottles strewn across the table surfaced in fragments. It wasn’t a small amount anywhere, but compared to when he had just turned twenty, it had definitely gone down. So her concern wasn’t unreasonable.

In truth, even without her advice, he hadn’t planned to drink. On that problem day, the film had cut and the later part remained missing. Now and then there were flashes of déjà vu, but nothing ever came back cleanly.

Kangwoon, his partner in the incident, didn’t share details either, leaving the specifics a blur. And pressing for details felt awkward—what he suspected had happened wasn’t exactly all-ages fare… It had been some time since he and Kangwoon had become involved in this and that, but broaching the topic still embarrassed him.

While he brooded, Suhyeon sensed his sudden silence and tried to probe further, but he managed to deflect and end the call. Thus the unexpected conversation ended, leaving a small lead behind.

On a quiet, peaceful afternoon, Hohyun couldn’t stop thinking about the resurfaced topic. Thinking of alcohol brought to mind what Ihyeon had said before they’d properly started drinking; mulling that over led to the memory of Suhyeon clicking her tongue at him. Following that dogged chain, link by link, he was finally able to fish up small fragments from his memory.

After he’d eaten and felt full, he’d called it a night; unlike his sister and brother, who headed home, Hohyun stayed, waiting for someone. That “someone” was highly likely to have been Kangwoon. The rest was a bit fuzzy, but he thought he remembered hearing something from Kangwoon.

“Do you recognize me now?”

He seemed to remember how outrageously gorgeous Kangwoon had looked saying that, but the details wouldn’t come. Of course it would be gorgeous. With a face like that, he’d draw praise just by breathing.

If nothing came back at all, fine—but for it to hover vaguely was infuriating. Unable to shake the regret, he turned the moment over and over whenever he had time. Perhaps thanks to that desperate effort, that night, a scene buried deep in memory rose to the surface in his dreams.

Clink. With a small sound, the grill over the charcoal was swapped for a new one. Two hours into the meal. Unable to stand the blackened grate, the owner had rolled up his sleeves and brought a fresh one for the fourth time.

Because two of the three focused more on liquor than meat and missed the eating window, the marinated cuts were cooked to dryness, on the verge of turning into charcoal. Mechanical bites of parched, juiceless meat and steady sips of alcohol had made time fly. Between two drunks, Suhyeon—eating alone in earnest—finally put dissolution on the table.

“We’ve had enough, right?”

Drink or food alike—their stomachs were stuffed. With bankruptcy in mind, Hohyun turned his head. Ihyeon, who had gone down first, stared blankly at the remaining rib bones.

Judging by his dazed look, if left as-is he might just fall asleep at the table. Hohyun, who did not fancy hauling that big body home, grabbed Ihyeon’s shoulder and shook him vigorously.

“Hyung, get up. Time to go home.”

“…Hohm?”

“Yeah. Noona says we should call it.”

Blinking slowly, Ihyeon suddenly sprang up and fumbled into his clothes. There’s a saying: seeing someone drunker than oneself sobers you up a little. Watching his older brother’s slurred speech took the edge off his own buzz.

The moment his wandering mind returned from its brief outing, Hohyun reached into his pocket for his wallet. Frowning at the sight of the youngest clearly intent on paying, Suhyeon—fishing lip balm from her coat pocket—picked up the receipt resting quietly at the corner of the table and stopped him.