He’s a Fox Ch 115

Chapter 115 Side Story 10

“The claw moved right above the puppy plush as he worked the joystick. The positioning looked decent enough, but it was a claw machine. The claw dropped, and—annoyingly—floated back up without strength, leaving the puppy plush exactly where it had started, not so much as twitching. With the absurd outcome of having merely stroked a lifeless puppy’s head with a metal claw, stubbornness flared across Hohyun’s face.

He slid the card in again, the claw spun uselessly again, and again he fed in the card—several times over. At this rate, success should have come, but it didn’t. Only after pouring in over 20,000 won(15USD) did he remember the long, storied bad luck that clung to his side like a shadow. Fewer mishaps lately and the haze of alcohol had half made him forget.

With his luck in the gutter and his focus dulled by the cold and drink, there was no way this could end well. Knowing this better than anyone, he gave up quickly and tucked the card back into his wallet.

Even knowing it was a lost cause, the pang of regret was unavoidable. As he glanced at the plush—still hardly shifted from where it had first been—an arm suddenly reached in from the side. While Hohyun had been fighting the machine, Kangwoon, who had quietly watched beside him, rolled up his sleeves.

Slotting a black card into the machine, he gripped the control. The tiny joystick looked almost comical in his large hand.

Startled by the sudden move, Hohyun stared wide-eyed. Because of his size, Kangwoon had to hunch deeply to peer through the glass. The out-of-place concentration—head tipped, focus razor-sharp—was oddly cute, and the intention to do it for Hohyun was obvious and moving. While Hohyun was caught up in that, Kangwoon worked the controls with careful eyes.

From his focused look alone, it could have been an espionage thriller. One would expect him to be running with a gun, taking out targets; instead, in his hand was a dainty pink joystick. The discordant image was almost funny.

And the results still weren’t great. In Beom Kangwoon’s life, claw machines had never featured. Watching Hohyun earlier was all the training he had; even for someone who usually handled most things well, this was rough going—though better than Hohyun had managed.

When the claw lifted a plush by its legs, Hohyun clenched his fist, unable to contain his excitement. That had never happened when he was at the controls. Maybe this time… But contrary to his hopes, the claw deliberately weakened near the chute. Thunk. The plush fell limply, just shy of the prize door, and Hohyun’s shoulders slumped.

It seemed fate wasn’t with that plush. Seeing him droop in perfect resignation, Kangwoon’s gaze stuck tenaciously to the black puppy’s face. Fearing he might push on to the bitter end, Hohyun quickly caught Kangwoon’s arm and drew him back.

“I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

“…Alright.”

He yielded to Hohyun’s touch and stepped back. But he didn’t give up. Unlike a 21-year-old fox beastman, used to surrender by a life steeped in bad luck, a 31-year-old tiger who had never lacked knew exactly how to handle a task he couldn’t do himself.

Checking the address posted on the building’s exterior where the machine sat, Kangwoon texted it to the team waiting in the car at the end of the alley. The boar in the passenger seat—waiting for his employer to return with the fox—suddenly received a mission to go to an unfamiliar address and win a black dog plush.

Blissfully unaware, Hohyun hurried ahead lest Kangwoon insist on staying. With his errands complete, Kangwoon followed quietly.

Did he even know where he was going? Watching the round head leading the way, despite not knowing the car’s location, Kangwoon saw him stall at the first fork. He couldn’t suppress a soft huff of laughter.

It was almost as if fox ears were pricking atop that head. After some deliberation, Hohyun chose left. The road was wider than the right; surely it would lead to the street.

But the farther they went, the stranger things looked. The path narrowed, streetlights were sparse, and even those flickered enough to make it hard to see. In the end, he missed a deep rut underfoot and tipped sideways. His semicircular canals, dulled by drink, missed the moment to correct. If not for Kangwoon behind him, his face would have met the ground.

A large hand seized the back of his neck. It pinched a little, but it saved his face from damage. His tailbone still throbbed from the last fall; if his face had hit too, tears might have sprung from sheer indignity. Watching him rub the spot he’d banged, Kangwoon was reminded again just how drunk he was.

Four bottles, after all. Recalling the number, he clicked his tongue again. On the pretext of preventing another fall, he took Hohyun’s hand once more. The fingers that closed over his knuckles were hot. Lifting his head, Hohyun stared at him blankly.

Was it the cold, the rush of alcohol, or something else? The ear peeking through his hair was flushed as if it might burst. Looking at that red ear—as if steam might puff out at a touch—made heat rise in himself too. Spreading his coat open, Kangwoon changed the subject with a question.

“Why did you drink so much?”

“Uh, well… I had something on my mind.”

If he’d been clearheaded, he might have offered some other excuse, but sadly, he was not. With judgment dulled, the words in his chest flowed out unfiltered.

Seeing his expression darken with thought, Kangwoon’s attention fixed on him. Choosing his words, the tiger asked again.

“What kind of worry? Is it something I can help with?”

“No! It’s just… just personal.”

At that clear line, a flicker of pique rose—only to be doused a second later by a mouth that, today, insisted on truth.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just that I like you too much, boss, so you don’t have to worry.”

“……”

Kangwoon froze, then a smile reached his eyes. Liking him too much was the problem? Well now… It was impossibly adorable.

Hohyun told him not to think about it, but forgetting that would be hard. In a voice softer than before, he teased out more.

“How is that a problem?”

“B-because… you’re handsome, and built, and rich… and a tiger.”

His voice grew a little damp as he trailed off with a sniffle. From the way he heaped on praise, it sounded less like “liking you is the problem” and more like “liking someone too out of my league is the problem.”

“And why’s that?”

“Common sense says I’m just… not enough.”

Even if I were the boss, I wouldn’t like me—his small, faraway confession drew a snort. He couldn’t even recognize a face just now; what “common sense” was he talking about? Still, it didn’t feel bad. The kind of worry rolling around in that little head was almost quaint, and the sniffles were rather cute.

An adult might let it slide here, but this tiger, with a streak of mischief, had no intention of being so mature.