He’s a Fox Ch 48

Chapter 48

Beneath the sharply revealed forehead lay thick brows, and under those a pair of languid, slanted eyes framed with dense lashes. The golden irises caught the sunlight and shimmered as if molten. A nose that curved in an elegant line, lips drawn in firm and confident shape—his appearance was too flawless, so unreal it seemed like something painted into an ornate, oversized picture frame.

For the first time in his 21 years, Hohyun understood what it meant to be struck speechless before beauty. His mind was bleached into pure white emptiness, and only the faint awareness dawned: Now I understand why this tiger stubbornly stayed in humanoid form. With such a face, the world around him must have never left him in peace—how could he not spend more time as a tiger to quiet the chaos.

Not that he had ever thought Kangwoon ugly in his tiger’s body. The heavy muzzle, the near-golden eyes, lush fur streaked with bold black stripes—all lent him a dignified presence. If Kangwoon had been Canidae, perhaps Hohyun might have guessed his human looks from his beast form. But feline features gave no such hints. For Hohyun, who had only ever seen two tigers in his life, there was nothing to predict beyond “imposing.”

So when Kangwoon revealed his human form now, without warning, the shock floored him. Ordinary handsomeness would have drawn maybe one exclamation. But this… this was in a league entirely outside his experience. The fox stood frozen, not even realizing his awe was plain, while the tiger addressed him casually:

“All packed?”

“…Yes!”

“We’ll leave around noon. Don’t forget to give Yuri her motion-sickness medicine.”

“Don’t want it…” the cub grumbled.

“You still have to.”

Everyone else reacted naturally. Only Hohyun lingered paralyzed. Kangwoon noticed his silence and tilted his head, while Hohyun’s eyes followed strands of hair falling silken across the tiger’s profile.

It was as though time had stopped. The tiger took a step closer.

Only then did Hohyun notice the suit—the sharp crease of tailored fabric, fitting like destiny. His face had been enough overload already; added with a crisp formal suit, the impact was lethal.

Fur puffed straight on end, his tail swelled nearly double and promptly hid between his legs. Kangwoon frowned slightly—the fox had looked normal all morning, chatting about taking the bus back to his house. Yet here he was, trembling. The tiger didn’t realize Hohyun was short-circuited by his face.

Hohyun handed Yuri into the alligator’s arms and bolted toward the entrance. Kangwoon called quietly:

“Want me to drive you?”

“N-no… I’ll walk—take the bus.”

“Walk? To the terminal? That’s far.”

The suggestion was earnest. But Hohyun shook his head violently, refusing without meeting his eyes. His body still aimed toward the door like prey desperate for escape.

“It’s fine. I’ll… exercise. Been gaining weight anyway.”

Gaining weight—on a frame of skin and bones. Even Hohyun knew it was weak cover, trailing into an awkward silence.

Kangwoon regarded him in silence. The fox refused to turn, his flushed cheeks and ears practically blazing red with suppressed panic. Finally Kangwoon sighed and let him go.

Yuri clung mournfully to him, tail drooping, unwilling to separate. But to Hohyun, there had never been more relief: the patriarch’s supposed dislike of foxes had spared him from enduring a car ride beside Kangwoon’s dangerous beauty. He buried his whisper in the cub’s ear—“See you Thursday”—and fled out the door.

The alligator muttered in confusion, but Hohyun didn’t look back. Breathless, ears pounding with his own heartbeat, he ran without stopping, unable to tell if it was from poor stamina or lingering shock.

As he slowed by the roadside, a faint whimper pricked his ears. From the bushes near the bus stop, a white pup peeked out, tail wagging.

“Woof!”

“Ah—hello there.”

The stray wagged furiously, as if greeting an old friend. Its matted coat spoke of hunger, not ownership. Eyes soft, it whined, I’m hungry.

Moved, Hohyun searched and found a convenience store nearby. In East culture, food was essential—no one skipped meals, even busy, even with cheap rice balls or instant noodles. For beastfolk, another option had developed: wet-feed pouches. Packaged for nutrition and portability, intended for beastmen who transformed regularly and needed easy fare.

Generally expensive, and in human form, still pet food—so Hohyun had never consumed it. But today, it wasn’t for him. Fetching a pouch and water, he returned.

The pup yipped joyfully. Pouring out the feed, he stood silent—avoiding over-familiarity. A stray needed wary instincts, or else crueler humans might hurt them.

In minutes, the food was gone. The pup licked its lips, tail thrashing. Hohyun disposed of wrappings just as his bus arrived. After a brief goodbye, he boarded.

The app had said 2 hours 14 minutes to arrival. Usually, bus rides dragged; this time, lost in thought, minutes melted unnoticed.

Stepping down onto his hometown soil—land that had cradled nearly all his life—Hohyun followed memory home.

He tapped the door lock code at the familiar entrance. The door opened.

Inside, long-limbed children perked ears toward him, staring in surprise.