He’s a Fox Ch 57

Chapter 57

Immediately, Hohyun reached out and gently grasped Jini’s muzzle. Holding her there in calm silence, he watched her tail slowly wilt toward the ground.

So, you know you did wrong, don’t you?

Afraid her uncle might truly be angry, her eyes rolled nervously, the whites showing as she stole glances upward. The sight softened him. He ruffled her cheek, kneading it roughly in mock scolding. Normally she would have grumbled for him to stop, but this time she endured his affectionate reproach.

“It was dangerous, you know? Hm? I’ll be fine, but what if Seon had gotten hurt?”

“Whiiine…”

Glancing at the little cousin cradled against his chest in the sling, Jini brushed her nose apologetically over the fabric. The moment Seon barked brightly in forgiveness, the fox broke into a gratified smile.

But then he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he saw an elderly passerby watching intently. He couldn’t tell if the old man sympathized with the struggles of childcare—or thought him a lunatic talking seriously to dogs. Either way, attention was drawn. Hurriedly, he gathered the children and left.

The fox’s jacket was soaked from spilled water, making the cold sharper, but they had only just come out; to go back immediately would spark a chorus of complaints. Though every bone wanted to collapse onto a heated floor, denying the kids their “walk” was not an option. Fortunately, after their earlier scare, the twins at last walked without tugging, following quietly wherever he led.

Still, the winter breeze stung. Hunched into his collar, Hohyun noticed tufts of white fluff drifting on the wind. Jun too spotted it—his tail froze stiff. Then, mouth wide open, he attempted to snap up the floating clump of fur.

“What are you trying to eat—?” the fox muttered, quickly snatching it out of the air before his nephew could gulp it down. The fluff was soft, plush. It didn’t look shed naturally—almost familiar.

The thought struck him suddenly. Shifting both leashes into one hand, he stripped off his padded jacket. Rrrip—the entire back seam had burst, inner stuffing spilling freely, scattering his path behind them like seeds.

So that was today’s misfortune. He chuckled hollowly. Wrapping the ruined coat inside-out tightly, he stopped the leak of more down. Bereft of outerwear, chilled to the skin, he could only end the outing there.

Jun, denied more strolling, took it out by swatting Jini across the shoulders with his paws, while Jini hunched silently, accepting punishment with a sheepish air.

Still, the short exercise restored cheer to their drooping mood and did not worsen their colds. Back home, the fox told the twins to wash their paws in the warm bathwater and then carried the ruined coat to the laundry room.

Cleanliness is key when fighting colds. He bagged the jacket and dragged out the vacuum. Three sniffly pups followed everywhere, their damp paws smacking the tile with sticky little slap, slap sounds.

As he vacuumed stray yellow and black fur, hours passed. At last, the home was warm, clean, safe—perfect for recuperating children. The fox collapsed exhausted onto the sofa.

From within the hood of his sweatshirt, the sound of tiny, congested breathing rose—it seemed Seon had fallen asleep. He patted gently. The other two nestled on either side, demanding attention. Normally they would have tired of him in ten minutes and dashed about the house, but now, sick, they sought cuddle and comfort.

Arms filled with warm breathing furs, he whispered, “Anything you want to eat?”

“Whine.”

“I know, sore throat. But you still need food, so you can take medicine. Only then will you get better.”

“Peeeep…”

He coaxed and soothed, but with no appetite they offered no menu. So he unleashed his trump card: the delivery app. Unlike parents who insisted on rice regardless, this uncle believed If you hate rice, eat something else.

Their ears perked as he scrolled. By the end, tails were wagging excitedly. Seon was content with whatever—but the twins conferred solemnly, finally declaring their choice: malatang, tteokbokki, and shaved ice dessert.

Feeding them settled, relatives began returning from work. First, his parents. At the sound of the door lock, the three on the sofa immediately sat up, eyes round; even Seon poked her head out of the hood pouch where she’d been dozing on his belly.

Exactly six seconds after their ears pricked—beep beep, the door opened. The fox barely had time to straighten before the trio bolted, vaulting over the sofa back. He sighed. By adolescence, these greetings would become slamming headaches for their parents.

Seon wriggled, wanting down, so he carried her over. “Welcome home.”

“Bark!”

“Oh? Youngest, you came?”

Grandma and Grandpa arrived, greeted by a stampede of grandchildren. They only smiled, unsurprised to see their youngest son here without notice. They even scooped Seon as well, ushering her off to bed. Sleepy-eyed, she went without fuss. The twins protested, but stern Grandpa quelled them firmly.

And so the noisy house fell silent.

—but not for long.

The liveliest figure then bounding in was Ihyeon, the fourth child, the family’s irrepressible entertainer. Tossing the door open, sneakers thudding, he spotted his little brother immediately.

“Oh! Ho-ya! Been coming home often lately, huh? What’s the deal—slaughtered a chicken to celebrate? But it’s not even midsummer. Is there some special… wait.”

He crouched suddenly, grabbing at the fluff strewn on the floor. Though the fox had vacuumed thoroughly, apparently some escaped. Ihyeon’s eyes widened, realization dawning.

“Don’t tell me—Ho-ya, got yourself a lover?!”

“Wh—NO! It’s just… my coat burst!”

“…Because of the kids…?”

“Yes!” Hohyun protested quickly. At this rapid denial, Ihyeon’s brief spark of excitement cooled to indifference. He’d seen his baby brother dragged by children often enough that such excuses rang true.

Still, his elder pressed slyly: “Haven’t confessed yet?”

“….”

The fox fell silent. He wasn’t one to wallow in low self-esteem, but honestly—compared to Beom Kangwoon, what was he? Every aspect, the tiger outshone him. Worse, foxes and tigers belonged to Canidae and Felidae—dog and cat. Predators by nature, rarely harmonizing. Relationships between species were rarely pursued.

If it worked, he gained a lover. But if he failed? His fragile new network, his job—all could collapse. Worst of all, he had no idea how.

Plenty had confessed to him before—male and female alike. But then, he’d been their classmate, an equal. Kangwoon was his boss. Entirely different weight.

He sighed bleakly.

Then, Ihyeon leaned closer, proposing with a grin: “Come to my room. Let’s look at references.”

And so, desperate enough, the fox agreed—and spent eight grinding hours binging five romance films alongside his grinning brother.

When it ended, the only lesson he carried was: movies are lies.

So be it. There was only one method left. Before any “confession,” he had to raise his favorability—with trust, with sincerity.

First: build affection.