He’s a Fox Ch 42

Chapter 42

The first step was flattening the box into a sheet. What Hohyun needed was a plane, not a cube. With scissors in hand, the fox cut away every tab and joint, reshaping it into one elongated rectangle. While Hohyun worked, the alligator gathered the discarded scraps into a single pile and asked,

“What’re you making out of this?”

“A height chart.”

“Oooh.”

Hohyun had remembered the old wooden growth board back in his family’s storeroom. When his eldest brother had turned one year old, their father had carved it himself from a plank of wood at a carpentry shop—painted pale sky-blue, etched with the names, ages, and heights of all five siblings.

When Hohyun explained, the alligator’s eyes widened. Leaving permanent records of height growth! Surrounded by big, burly black-coated beastmen, no one had ever thought of that. The alligator was duly impressed, fueling the fox’s confidence as he worked.

But soon, his smugness evaporated. The cardboard sat before him, wobbly and jagged, seams frayed. He frowned, staring at the pathetic result. Was the problem choosing cardboard instead of real wood? Or that he had been overconfident, attacking with scissors straight away without sketching guidelines?

The alligator—having watched the irregular cuts—stroked his jaw and grunted. “Hmmm.” Finally he scratched the back of his neck and offered a cheaper alternative.

“Why not just mark it on the wall?”

“…Isn’t that… reckless?”

“Not at all. The house is under Kangwoon-hyung’s name. He wouldn’t care. I bet you could even hammer holes if you liked and he wouldn’t mind.”

At this bold declaration, Hohyun gaped. Well, this was the man who had raised a mansion in the heart of the capital—such nerve fit. Wall-scratching? Go ahead. Carve marks with a knife? Do it. With full permission, Hohyun set the mutilated cardboard aside. Cardboard, mutilated into strips, would make its way quietly to recycling.

Fox and Alligator began wandering halls, debating. Hohyun argued for a corner of the hallway—it’s tradition, discreet, tucked away. The alligator insisted the living room: front and center, growth records should be seen proudly. They argued fiercely, brows knit in deep seriousness—until suddenly a small head popped between theirs.

“??” Yuri, in her messy “nest bedhead,” blinked curiously. She had woken and shuffled in unnoticed, watching them debate.

The alligator immediately seized initiative. He snatched the cub into his arms, strode quickly toward his proposed spot, and held her there against the wall. Hohyun scrambled after desperately. But the reptile raised his claw and—scraaape—drew a long gouge above her head. A mark too deep to erase later.

The alligator beamed, victorious. The fox sagged, crestfallen. Yuri herself tilted her head, bewildered. From her view, these adults were digging grooves into walls for no reason. Normally, Moong-moo Oppa would have explained—but he was poking uncertainly at the gouge, fretting what to do with such scars.

Originally he had planned to simply write names and dates with pen. But now, with claw gouges… ink would seem discordant. For consistency, he would need to etch text into the wall too. Impossible, though—blunt human fingers couldn’t scratch wallpaper, let alone cement.

He even tried, concentrating hard, to extend his own fox claws… but his body refused. Not even a quiver. Finally, realizing he was the cause of the fox’s predicament, the alligator volunteered as scribe.

“Fine, I’ll write for you then.”

“Good! Put today’s date right there, above.”

“…Phew. Dates too, huh..? Okay.”

With thick claws, each stroke came broad. Too small, illegible; too large, it would run out of wall. After a pause, the alligator pressed down—zrrp, zrrp—engraving carefully.

With his savage face locked in concentration, jaw clenched, he looked like a hardened felon carving prison walls. Luckily, only two witnesses: a fox and a cub. The cub, born and raised among apex predators, blinked unconcerned. And Hohyun—for him, that scarred face was already familiar, so aside from a slight flinch, no alarm.

While the alligator carved, Hohyun unrolled the tape measure and checked Yuri’s exact height. Ninety-seven centimeters. By small-breed standards, tall. But for a big breed like tigers, the curve shifted. Last night, online, he had read the figures: average height of a three-year-old large-species beastchild—108 cm. Yuri was half a span shorter than her peers.

He hadn’t even spoken—yet the alligator glanced sidelong at the number and sighed, already anticipating what Hohyun would say: note that down too. Reluctant commission accepted, he steadied to record.

Meanwhile Yuri tugged at Hohyun’s sleeve with wide eyes:

“Moong-moo Oppa… what’s this?”

“This? It means we marked how tall you are today. See this line? That’s Yuri’s height.”

“Mm.”

“Later, when we measure again, and if your mark is higher, that means you’ve grown taller.”

She pressed her palm repeatedly against her groove, exploring cracks, then mumbled faintly:

“Oppa…”

“Hm?”

“…Is Yuri… small?”

The weight of her tone was far too bitter for a simple factual check.

“…Did… someone tell you you’re small?” Hohyun asked carefully.

Silence. Her little tail drooped. The way she pressed her lips shut was answer enough.

By fox eyes she had already seemed on the small side. What of other large-species eyes? Surely sharper tongue had once poked at her too harshly. But still—she was only three! What sort of words had she overheard to sigh like this?

Hohyun glanced at the alligator, but his confused look made plain he’d never heard it said—not under his watch. If Yuri had heard such remarks, it must’ve been when she wasn’t with her shadow. And the only times she wasn’t with him… were when her brother or father were present. Kangwoon would never. Which meant… other family?

Hohyun tightened his jaw. But words to Yuri came first. He pulled her little paw up to touch a mark half a span higher, explaining gently: “This here—that’s how tall three-year-old tiger friends usually are. Right here.”

The alligator quickly carved a dot at the spot. The cub, staring at it towering above her own line, groaned miserably.

“Don’t worry. You’re still growing,” Hohyun encouraged quickly.

“…Growing?”

“It means—if you eat well and sleep well, you’ll get taller and taller.”

He simplified for toddler ears. It did its job—she brightened a little, then asked innocently:

“Tall as Oppa? Tall as Moong-moo Oppa?”

This made Hohyun hesitate. As tall as him, maybe—she might surpass even. But as tall as Kangwoon? That was unlikely. Even at double her height, she would not match him. In truth, barely anyone in the mansion matched Kangwoon’s size.

But feeding realism wouldn’t help. So instead, he nodded firmly, serious face.

“Of course! One day, you’ll be taller than even me and the Boss!”

Her ears flicked up, brightening—to see his confident nod. The gloom lifted, though no wild joy bloomed either.

Still searching for a way to shift the mood completely, Hohyun’s thoughts trailed back to last night, when Kangwoon had offered promises of future snacks, as incentive once she grew. A plot formed. He raised a finger and tapped against the “goal” mark.