He’s a Fox Ch 33

Chapter 33

“All your errands, are they done?”

“Yes! Thanks to you, I got everything finished really quickly.”

Hohyun’s eyes glittered as his tail swayed happily. Kangwoon just flicked one ear as if it was no big deal.

On the desk lay the now-familiar contract. The only difference from before was that this time, there was a ballpoint pen resting neatly on top of the papers. Since Hohyun had already taken a copy to his room to pore over in detail, all he needed to do now was check whether anything had changed. As the fox flipped through the pages, the tiger began casually briefing him.

Feeding, bathing, dressing, and most general caretaking would be handled by Kangwoon and the Crocodile themselves. Room and board would be provided. Working hours would last from when little Yuri woke up until she went to sleep—generally from about 7 AM to 9 PM, though occasionally exceptions might occur, in which case he would receive additional pay. Hearing this, Hohyun nodded. After all, children weren’t machines—it was natural there might be changes.

The way Kangwoon smoothly recited the contract’s key points without even glancing at the text made the fox quietly impressed. As he listened with his ears and confirmed the pages with his eyes, the tiger suddenly added, as though remembering something:

“About the base pay—how much more should I increase it?”

Startled, Hohyun stiffly shook his head. Just hearing the idea made him uneasy. Someone else might happily ask for more, but for him, the thought of extra money only weighed on him like a burden.

As a fox, his expressions had been minimal and hard to read, but in human form his discomfort was clear as day. Kangwoon found it surprising. Men who wanted more he had seen too often, but someone outright refusing higher pay? This was the first.

What Hohyun didn’t realize was that there was good reason behind the generous wage. The child wasn’t just any child—she was a tiger cub. For now, her range was small, but once she grew, she would no doubt tear across the entire estate all day long. To compensate, higher pay was only natural. There was no hidden intent.

Instead of pushing the topic, Kangwoon simply added a new clause. On one side of the contract he wrote that by mutual agreement, adjustments to the base pay could be made at any time.

The rest was the same as before—no surprises, nothing missed. So Hohyun turned to the last page. Never having signed much of anything in his twenty-one years, he just printed his name clearly and carefully. The tiger then brought the pen down beneath the fox’s rounded letters, scribbled his own bold signature, then replaced the pen on the desk.

“Where’s Yuri?” Kangwoon asked.

“She was napping in the entryway earlier.”

“Really?”

Of course. If she hadn’t come for her nap, it must have been because she was glued to the door, waiting desperately for her “doggie” to return. Kangwoon lowered his gaze to check his watch. By her usual schedule, it was about time for Yuri to wake up.

“She’ll be up soon. Ah, and by the way—your pay will be backdated to the day you first came here, so keep that in—”

—Brrrmm—

The sudden vibration cut his words short. Hohyun startled at the noise before fishing into his pocket where his new phone was buzzing violently. On the screen flashed three bold words: Youngest Brother.

The tiger leaned back against the sofa and gestured lazily for him to pick it up. Carefully, Hohyun pressed the button. He hadn’t even said hello before the speakerphone blasted loudly in his ears—

[HO-YA!!]

Because the fox hadn’t adjusted the settings yet, the call volume was still set to maximum. With two ears, the impact doubled. “Ah, so loud,” he groaned, ears folding back tight against his skull as he urgently jabbed the volume button down to minimum. Only then did the conversation resume.

“Uh… why are you calling?”

[Why not? Can’t a brother check in once in a while?]

“…Are you drunk?”

[What? No! Who drinks in the middle of the day?]

But was it really still “day”? Glancing at the window where the sun was already sinking toward the horizon, Hohyun frowned. His family bond was good, but calls between siblings weren’t frequent. At most, they exchanged texts once a week. This sudden call set off worry—had something gone wrong at home?

Just as he was about to ask, his brother’s cheerful tone shattered any concern.

[Our baby brother, huh? You send a message to big brother but not to me. That hurts, you know?]

What a deflating reason. Hohyun closed his eyes, then opened them again. His youngest elder brother, infamous even at home for being “a little four-dimensional,” rambled on in mock indignation.

When are you coming home? Everyone’s been waiting forever. The children keep asking when their uncle will visit, staring at the door pathetically. How can you not feel sorry for them?

That last claim nearly made Hohyun laugh aloud. Maybe Sung, the middle one, would—but his rambunctious twin nephews? Never. They weren’t the type to sit by the door—they were the type to tackle him with all their strength the moment he appeared after ignoring him for months.

Knowing his nephews’ personalities inside-out, Hohyun didn’t bat an eye at his brother’s exaggeration. Which only spurred the man on. To squeeze out a reaction, his “four-dimensional” brother threw out every line he could think of, recounting random relatives’ recent doings. Losing patience, Hohyun was about ready to tell him that unless he had something important, he’d be hanging up.

Instead, his brother dropped a bombshell.

[Oh, did I ever tell you?]

“About what?”

[I nearly got scammed by voice phishing² the other day. Some random number called, and the guy insisted he was you!]

“……”

[These days they copy people with A.I., right? I guess it’s true—the voice did sound a lot like you. Good thing it was me. If it had been Dad or Mom who picked up, they might’ve gotten tricked.]

“…Hang up.”

[Hey, Ho-ya? Why all of a sudden—]

Click.

Breathing hard, Hohyun stabbed the screen to end the call. His face screamed of barely-suppressed anger. Kangwoon, watching from across the desk, observed with quiet curiosity.

From what he had seen, Hohyun was usually as soft as tofu—gentle, squishy, the type who waited to see if it was safe before wagging his tail at someone. He had never yet shown such naked irritation.

Although his round eyes now seemed sharpened, his expression still wasn’t truly fierce. He was too soft at his core to look frightening. Still, it was the first time the tiger had seen him genuinely upset.

Noticing Kangwoon’s gaze, Hohyun quickly forced an awkward smile, belatedly worried. Even if the tiger had told him to answer the call freely, wasn’t it a bit too careless to let his temper show at work, before an employer? As though seeing right through him, Kangwoon chuckled softly and propped his chin in one hand.

“They call you ‘Ho-ya’ at home?”

“Yes—I mean, no… Not everyone. Only my youngest elder brother.”

For some reason, everyone used their own nickname for him. The eldest brother called him Hyun-i, the second brother said Makdoong-i (baby of the family), his sister simply said Maknae (the youngest), while the youngest-older-brother chose Ho-ya. Their parents alternated between them all.

How could one person have so many names? But of course, he didn’t share all that. No matter how friendly, spouting unasked-for trivia was an easy way to ruin relationships.

Instead of pressing about the name, Kangwoon seized on another detail. “Youngest brother,” huh? That must mean… more elder siblings above.

“So you’ve got a lot of brothers?”

“Three. And one sister.”

“Parents must be very close.”

Three elder brothers, one sister, and then the youngest fox—five children in total. A rarity in modern times, in a society where birthrates had plunged.

At the mention of family, the fox’s tail twitched happily behind him. Perhaps it was the canid blood—half his genes were from animals that lived in packs—he was family-oriented to the core.

Excited, he began chattering about his family with clear joy, until, suddenly realizing himself, he shut his mouth with a snap. If it were before signing, no problem. But now, before his employer? Oversharing could be dangerous. Watching his older siblings as a child had taught him that. Quickly, he tossed the ball back.

“Boss, how old are you? I mean—what’s your age?”

“Me? Thirty-one.”

Not old enough for “respectful age” (연세). Kangwoon gave a playful smirk. Thirty-one. That would make him the same age as Hohyun’s sister.

Considering his heavy aura, Hohyun had assumed he was late thirties, close to forty at least. But no—this was unexpected. He blinked at the discovery—then froze as a sudden rattling noise interrupted.

With a jerk, his fox ears shot upright. Turning toward the door, he spotted the doorknob jiggling, up and down.

Thunk, rattle. Thump. After several loud bangs, the door creaked open. Through the gap, a small bundle of fur bounded in.

Footnotes

1. “Four-dimensional” (사차원, sachawon) – A Korean expression for someone eccentric, quirky, or out-of-touch in a humorous way. Used often to describe offbeat personalities. 
2. “Ho-ya” (호야) – A nickname style: adding the suffix -ya to a name is a casual, intimate way of calling someone, often used by older siblings toward the younger.