He’s a Fox Ch 54

Chapter 54

Hohyun imagined for a moment what the great tiger might have been like as a child. He was imposing now, far above average stature—had it always been that way? Or had he too once been small, like Yuri? Asking Kangwoon yielded only a shrug.

“Not sure. Can’t really remember.”

At thirty-one, memories of being three blurred like fog. One might recall big events, but little details—height, size, what one looked like—were gone.

No one in the Beom family had ever thought to track growth charts the way Hohyun had, so the mystery of “what Kangwoon’s growth had been at three” was lost forever. Hohyun nodded, but dissatisfaction lingered. “If not from him… maybe someone close to him would know?”

So he turned to the alligator, Kangwoon’s trusted right hand. Asked about Kangwoon’s childhood, the reptile rubbed his head sheepishly.

“How would I know? When he was three, I was two.”

“…Huh?!”

The fox’s eyes widened. Wait—did that mean the alligator was actually younger than Kangwoon? The respectful hyung-nim title he used was not professional formality but accurate kinship?

Seeing Hohyun gape, the alligator blinked with mild offense.

“What, you thought I was older? Look at me—what about me says ‘older’?”

It was the atmosphere. His build, his seriousness, the aura of maturity—it had convinced Hohyun entirely. Equally stunned by each other, both fox and alligator forgot all about the original question.

So vanished the clue to the tiger’s childhood.

—

Three days later, at last, came the day of presenting the long-promised “gift.”

When Yuri wandered to bed for her nap, Kangwoon headed toward the kitchen. “What, is he trying baking now?” Hohyun worried. But baking was unlike butchery—one stray hair in cake batter could spell disaster. Would Kangwoon transform to human again?

To his surprise, Kangwoon didn’t cook. Spread across the counter were raw ingredients: flour, eggs, milk.

Milk—Hohyun suddenly remembered. He scampered back quickly and returned clutching the cocoa mix he had purchased while visiting his family.

When Kangwoon saw it, he blinked oddly. “Is that… cocoa?”

“Yes!”

“…Mmm. Well, snacks are usually too sweet. Maybe using a little is fine.”

Too sweet? Hot chocolate? What did he mean? The fox blinked, raising a cautious hand.

“Strictly speaking, hot cocoa is sweet.”

“Sweet?” The tiger looked genuinely baffled.

So Hohyun opened the box, heated milk, and made him a cup. The sweet scent lifted immediately into the air. Kangwoon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he took a cautious gulp, cream mustache coating his lip.

“This tastes nothing like what I had.”

“You’ve had it before?”

“When I was Yuri’s age. My sister gave me what she said was delicious cocoa. But it was… bitter.”

The fox’s ears pricked. He guessed quickly. “Could that have been cacao, not cocoa?”

“…They’re different?”

“Yes. Cocoa powder has sugar. Cacao powder has none—it’s just bitter.”

Kangwoon’s expression stiffened in realization. So all those years ago, when his sister had presented him “delicious cocoa,” she had simply given him cacao powder to drink, watching her poor little brother screw up his face. After twenty years he finally understood the prank. With a sigh, another line was scratched into the ever-cruel list of “Beom Taeryeong’s injustices.” Still, he approved releasing sweet cocoa to Yuri.

Good—one obstacle gone.

Just then, two more figures appeared. One was the alligator. The other—a man who looked perhaps mid-to-late twenties and moved hesitantly before placing hands on the ingredients. Then, with surprising deftness, he began creating dough. Hohyun edged close, whispering to the alligator, “Who’s that?”

“Oh, first time seeing him like this? That’s Kyungwoo—the bear. When he bakes, he shifts forms—less risk of hair in the dough.”

“A bear…?” The fox blinked.

It was true. Black-furred, large, a mountain. Yet now, in semi-human guise, he kneaded with unbelievable precision. Soon a tray emerged from the oven—cookies shaped like tiny teddy bears hugging heart-shaped dough.

A bear had baked bear-shaped cookies—and they were adorable.

Because of the winter chill, they cooled quickly. Kangwoon selected the prettiest ones, plating them neatly. When they carried them in, sweet scent wafted through the bedroom doorway. Yuri stirred awake at once.

Suspicious at first whiffs, she tilted her head, nose twitching. Soon she grabbed a cookie and bit. Crunch— eyes widened. Her drooping tail shot upright like a banner.

Mouth full, she chewed eagerly. The fox quickly raised the cup he had prepared—made with just a quarter packet for gentleness. If the twins back home had tasted it, they might have scoffed What is this bland thing?, but to Yuri—her first experience of sugar—it was perfect.

One gulp, tilted high, and nearly a disaster—Hohyun caught the cup in time, else it would have spilled across her clothes. Her head flew back up with a satisfied roar: “Kuaaah—!”

Foam ringed her lips. Hohyun snorted. Earlier Kangwoon too had worn a chocolate mustache after his cocoa.

The tiger chuckled slyly. “Oh dear, Yuri’s got a beard.”

“…No, I don’t!” She slapped her paw under her chin indignantly.

“Beards are prickly, she said. Mine’s smooth. So I don’t have one.”

It was such a strange, oddly specific claim that even Hohyun bit back a laugh. Likely she’d cuddled a relative with actual scruff. To solve it, Kangwoon flipped his phone to camera mode and showed her the screen. She squeaked, bolting upright, horrified at her chocolaty chin.

“All yours.” The alligator swiftly snatched her plate, or else her cookies would have spilled all over the blanket.

Yuri scrubbed her chin until the stains cleared, finally muttering sulkily, shooting her brother a glare.

—

So ended the first great “gift.” But it was just beginning. The black bear, proud of his success, took to baking every day—sweets inspired by the fairy-tales Yuri loved. The day he revealed a cake straight from her beloved storybook—pastel icing, tiered spongy layers—Hohyun wondered why such a talent wasted time here instead of apprenticing at some famous pâtisserie. The bear only laughed shyly and accepted praise.

The additions spread outward. Not just sweets anymore, but non-meat dishes too: rice, soups, side-dishes. Still meat-heavy, yes, but at last variety. Nutrition broadened.

Each morning Hohyun woke wondering half-excitedly what the menu would be. He hadn’t felt this anticipation since his own school days… though school lunch was never cooked with such care.

So life felt comfortable, fulfilled. Food, shelter, warmth. Even bad luck that had once followed him everywhere seemed dormant now.

But then—suddenly—new worries arose.

Cleaning up Yuri’s toys one evening while she brushed her teeth, Hohyun glanced up. His body froze stiff.

By the kitchen doorway, Kangwoon was on the phone—

—in human form.