He’s a Fox Ch 62

Chapter 62

“So—why did you break up?”

He had the looks, the height, the easygoing personality, even financial stability. Nothing sounded like a deal-breaker. Hohyun too burned with that same curiosity—but hadn’t dared ask just then. He thought it might come out once some alcohol had flowed. Yet his sister, Suhyeon, tossed it right in at the start.

Menu in hand, the fox peeked toward his brother. Sure enough, Ihyeon’s eyes were moist already, his face clouded. Nursing his glass, he muttered,

“…said.”

“Can’t hear a thing. Speak up properly.”

“They said—I’m too much. Too clingy.”

“…What?”

“They said I had too much skinship. That I touched too often…too much physical affection.”

Never would they have guessed that would be the reason. Everyone in the family knew Ihyeon was physically affectionate, always hugging, always leaning in. For anyone else, it was no surprise. To break up over that? But wasn’t affection—if it came from someone you loved—a good thing?

Hohyun thought of himself: if he could cling to his tiger all day, wouldn’t that be pure happiness?

Neither he nor Suhyeon could understand. Among Canidae, the more you loved, the more you stuck like glue. Silence descended.

Ihyeon grumbled on, glass half in his jaw. Most words muffled, but gist clear: he thought he’d reined himself in, holding back except in truly romantic moments, yet still accused of suffocation. Unfair! All the while, he gnawed empty glass rim with sulking teeth.

His sister reached over and refilled it to the brim—unspoken command: Stop chewing, just drink.

“Sometimes it’s just not meant to be. Easier to think of it that way.”

Dry, clipped comfort. Ihyeon snapped up, lifting eyebrows high.

“What do you know!!”

“…Excuse me?”

“You’ve never even dated! How would you understand?!”

Those words landed sharp. Suhyeon’s record was indeed clean: twenty-some years of never letting someone through her wall, shutting down suitors before they began. She was, technically, 0-loves experienced.

Her eyes narrowed coldly—danger.

History rang bells. Whenever siblings clashed like this, unlucky bystanders (i.e. Hohyun) often caught the spill. He shrank, small as possible, pushing Ihyeon’s chair just a tad further from his sister—final act of brotherly loyalty.

This one lives… or dies. Her expression said it all.

Hierarchy was big in beast families, but for Suhyeon—almost religious. Parents and elders occupied safe ranks above her. Anyone below—brothers—crossed her line, teeth came out.

The red-headed fox, dulled by sorrow and booze, didn’t see warning signs.

He proclaimed with half-slurred wisdom:

“Love—you can’t control it.”

‘…True,’ thought Hohyun, sighing inwardly. Love wasn’t a thing you pushed or pulled at will. It came unasked, demanding. He thought of his own tiger, heart weighing heavy. He filled his glass.

Then suddenly, Ihyeon burst.

“Even if I just breathe—even if I just drink water—I think of them!!! What then?!”

Eyes red, nose red, every inch pathetic. Enough his sister actually relaxed fingers from the bottle. A court might even commute his misdeed, so soaked was he in misery. Restored, she set bottle down.

The man sobbed openly. The table grew wet under rivulets from his cheeks.

Hohyun produced an entire tissue box and pressed it into his hands.

The sight of him crying soured Suhyeon further—if anyone were to make her brothers cry, it should be her alone.

Regardless, Ihyeon dove his whole face into the tissues, soaking them blot by blot. His little brother gently slid a full shot toward him in wordless sympathy. He muttered dully,

“This is the first time…I was actually dumped.”

Past break-ups had been amicable, fading feelings. This was new—and bitter. He slumped across table, head on arms. Suhyeon gave up, left him to cry it out. Then she noticed: the empty bottles not one but two before her other brother.

“Oi. What’s with you? You have your own problem?”

Of course he did. Watching his luminous elder be dumped, Hohyun saw his own future. At least Ihyeon had dated. His own crush? Doomed before it began.

And so he drank.

The galbi (short ribs) came sizzling, Suhyeon grilling while one cried and one brooded. “Eat while you drink,” she ordered, plopping meat onto plates. The taste of grease, the sting of alcohol, repeat.

Soon, all three were tipsy. Green bottles lined the table.

And then, in slurring curiosity, Hohyun asked:

“Hey… hyung, how do you… confess?”

After a slump, Ihyeon sat up, thought hard. “Well… first—lighting.”

“Lighting?”

“Yes. Listen carefully, Ho-ya. Confession is… all about atmosphere.”

From the side, Suhyeon rolled her eyes. But drunk Ihyeon persisted.

“With mood lighting—gives you a 10% higher chance.”

“…That’s so little.”

“Fool! Ten percent is one in ten! That’s huge!!”

And worse, his eyes wet again. He thrust his phone up, flashlight glaring full power. Glow painted his face blue-white. Angel—or fool—he looked radiant.

A sober man would note truth: it wasn’t the light, it was his genes. But drunken fox swallowed the advice whole.

Suhyeon only clicked tongue. If they’re not interested, even grandpa-lightning can’t save you. But she held her tongue.

The lecture dragged on. The student listened ardently.

By the time he blinked upward again, head too woozy, his note app dotted with half-shaped words, bottles towered. Ihyeon was face-flat on table, clinging to liquor. Only Suhyeon remained upright.

She shoved beef into his mouth, then turned to youngest:

“Where you sleeping? Here or leaving?”

“…Here,” the fox murmured. No way he could stagger back to Tiger’s Den reeking like this, not with child’s keen nose and tiger’s scowl.

He fumbled for phone to at least report in. But—spill! In a blink, Ihyeon poured out. Reflex shoved glass to lips, swallowing overflow. Already beyond limit, the dizziness stormed. Darkness crashed.

—

Morning.

His eyes opened—and his throat locked.

Beside him, sprawled across the bed: a shirtless tiger.

The fox’s hands shook as he lifted sheet. Two grown men, utterly bare beneath. His own body heavy, lower half numb, faint ache climbing from deep between—no avoiding the conclusion.

The employer of his life, the boss—the man he only ever dreamed about—and he had ended up in bed together.

‘…I’ve made a terrible mistake.’

He buried his face in both hands.

Sunlight spilled mercilessly across the sheets, mocking his misery, bright and unforgiving. Tears pricked at corners as he whispered silently to himself:

“…I really did it now.”