He’s a Fox Ch 39

Chapter 39

“Moong-moo Oppa’s tail is gone!”

Though the subject was missing, it was obvious what Yuri meant—she had been peeking and peering over his back so energetically that it was easy to guess. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment; clearly, she missed the sight of the tail. Seeing her look so dejected, Hohyun’s body jolted. But still, he couldn’t bring the tail back out. What if he suddenly transformed into a fox again right in front of her? That would spell disaster.

So instead, Hohyun hugged the little cub close and whispered softly in her ear: “I’ll show you the tail again next time.” Though she was disappointed not to see it right away, the promise alone was enough to brighten Yuri’s face.

She held out her tiny pinky. Watching her waiting finger, Kangwoon quietly clicked his tongue. When Hohyun was in fox form, he’d looked well-fed and sturdy—small but never frail. But seeing him as a human, Kangwoon realized how startlingly skinny he was. His broad frame was there, yes, but the arms extended for a pinky promise were all bone and skin, untouched with muscle. The big tiger stepped forward, plucked his sister up neatly from the fox’s arms, and shifted her weight to his own.

Torn away, Yuri pouted unhappily, throwing a sulky glare. She reached back toward Hohyun, arms straining. Kangwoon tilted his body back, keeping her at bay as he scolded gently:

“No. He’s too weak.”

That word made Yuri stop squirming. Her head tilted curiously. Not once in her three years—whether with guardians or elders—had she ever heard anyone complain she was too heavy to carry.

Wide-eyed at this strange pronouncement, she examined Kangwoon’s powerful arm and then Hohyun’s arm in turn. She might not understand classifications like “large species” versus “small species,” but even she could compare raw size. After considering, a dawning expression lit her face: she had made a judgment.

Meanwhile, Hohyun’s face twisted awkwardly.

It wasn’t entirely undeserved. By fox standards, he was considered big. Whether in human shape or full beast form, compared to other fox beastmen he had always stood taller—his head sticking above the crowd. His muscles were average, but his sturdy frame allowed him to easily lift a three-year-old cub. Yet here he was, being compared unfavorably to a tiger, in front of everyone. His last recorded height—181 centimeters—suddenly felt like a false advertisement.

He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, just as heavy footsteps approached.

Thump, thump. The alligator arrived, yawning. The moment he saw Yuri clutched in Kangwoon’s arms, his eyes went wide. Glancing at his wristwatch, he frowned—clearly baffled why the young lady was awake so early. Kangwoon casually shifted, handing Yuri into his scaly arms.

The alligator’s forearms bulged as he took the cub. Twice as thick as Hohyun’s, just at a glance. Seeing that, whatever words of protest Hohyun had been mustering withered away.

Of course. The tiger household was filled with men taller, broader, heavier than even this alligator. If that was their standard of “normal,” then to those eyes, Hohyun—even broad-shouldered fox that he was—must look frail, fragile, fragile enough to snap with a push.

Quiet realization subdued him.

While he kept silent, Yuri tapped her brother’s arm lightly. Her meaning was clear: Don’t pass me to Moong-moo again; just put me down now. Kangwoon obeyed, setting her gently on the ground.

“Oppa is going to get breakfast ready now. I’ll call you when it’s finished.”

“Okay!”

She nodded dutifully, but the moment her brother disappeared toward the kitchen, her hands wrapped tightly around Hohyun’s leg. She wasn’t doing anything else—just clung firmly and didn’t move.

Awkwardly, Hohyun shifted, deciding to walk toward the sofa. It was at that moment a harsh rrrip sound tore across the house: something being split, something thin. That sound, surely, was from the kitchen. Likely Kangwoon—preparing food, maybe tearing open a package.

But then…it changed.

Crrrk, thud. Rough, wet sounds, as though pulling apart something fibrous. Sharp edges frayed, not clean.

Is this… what raw meat sounds like when prepared?

He had never known—during mealtimes he only ever waited in the room with Yuri until it was finished. Now, hearing the preparation live, the reality seemed oddly brutal.

A tension gripped Hohyun’s chest. Swallowing hard, he unconsciously took two steps back. Yuri, still glued to his leg, stumbled back with him—delighted. For her, the jolt was like a sudden ride. She laughed so brightly, kicking her dangling feet, that Hohyun shook himself back to sense.

With Yuri’s giggles urging him, he shuffled forward again. She tugged on his trousers and demanded:

“Moong-moo Oppa! Again!”

So he walked, stiff-legged, careful not to let her tumble loose. It was an odd, waddling gait, comical, but the alligator simply watched and beamed—seeing his young lady laugh so fully mattered more than fox dignity.

They wandered the living room like this for nearly twenty minutes. By the end, Hohyun’s lungs burned, his arms aching. It had been like walking laps with a ten-kilogram sandbag strapped on. Hearing his heavy breath, the alligator lifted a hand, volunteering eagerly:

“My turn to be her mount!”

Yuri accepted at once, climbing onto him eagerly. Stronger, thicker, faster—the alligator bounded, delighting her further.

“Unnie Samchon, go that way!”

“Yes, Young Miss!”

With her pointing one way, he charged joyously down the hall, the two of them vanishing like a storm.

Panting, Hohyun caught his breath in the emptied living room—until—Thud!! A sharp slam rang from the kitchen.

“Juwon-ah, bring me gloves,” Kangwoon’s voice called.

But Juwon was nowhere near; he was busy being Yuri’s noble charger. So instead, Hohyun swallowed, steadied himself, and stepped forward.

The kitchen was dimmer than the sunlit living room—just a small side window cast pale light, the further he went, the darker. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, taking in the scene.

The stainless counter, always spotless before, now had a great sheet of plastic draped over one side. In front stood Kangwoon, apron tied over his clothes, gloves dark on both hands.

Except—the glove on his left was torn to tatters. And more, smeared across it—red, streaky stains, flecked lumps sticking against the nitrile. Meat, splatters of blood.

Kangwoon noticed him at that moment, blinking in surprise. “Where’s Juwon?”

“He’s with Yuri. Did you need something?”

“Mm. There should be new gloves in the cupboard. My left’s useless now.”

He lifted the hand—glove shredded, ends frayed. He meant only to show its damage. But for Hohyun, the sight struck worse: the black nitrile stretched over forearm, dotted with raw flesh scraps and red fluids.

Logically—yes, it had to be animal by-products. Logically, this was just butchery. But the eerie tint of it all—paired with shredding sounds in memory—made him feel like the world had slipped genres into a thriller novel.

Fumbling, eyes darting away, Hohyun opened the cupboard, found the gloves in seconds, and hurried them over. Kangwoon murmured thanks, stripped the shredded one, and pulled on clean replacements.

That would have been the end of it. But still, curiosity nagged too heavily. He lingered, orbiting in place, eyes wide.

Perhaps sensing it, Kangwoon offered the initiative himself:

“Want to watch?”

“Yes!”

The answer burst out enthusiastically, almost before the words fully formed. Kangwoon chuckled; his tail tip flicked. The heavy limb brushed Hohyun’s chest, nudging him softly into place—slid slightly diagonally, left side, behind.

Set in proper vantage, the fox found his heartbeat still. From here he could clearly see the great tiger’s back muscles ripple beneath the homely clothing each time he moved. Each great pull revealed bright red flesh under his hands—then withdrew, concealed again.

Crunch. With a practiced twist, Kangwoon’s clawed grip tore a bone free, snapping sinew. Flecks of red dotted the gloves and sprayed.

So that was it. Those were the sinister sounds. Not knives, but hands.

But… why? Why no blades? Wouldn’t knives be faster? Why do it all barehanded?

The question hovered, burning. He hesitated—but in the end, his curiosity demanded he ask.