He’s a Fox Ch 78

Chapter 78

“Huh?”

“…A tooth?”

Unlike Hohyun, who could only guess at the shape from a distance, Amur—still holding the toy—saw clearly what the foreign object embedded in it was. With a faintly reluctant expression, he explained: it was a tooth.

The words made the fox immediately seize Yuri’s round face with both hands.

“Yuri, show me your teeth—say iii.”

“Iii—”

The cub obediently opened her mouth and sounded out the vowel. Sure enough, the spot where her left canine ought to be was an empty gap. That strange slurping smack-smack he’d heard earlier—was that her sucking the blood from her own gum?!

Hohyun screamed inwardly, scooped the cub up, and rushed quickly to fetch the first-aid kit.

Moments later, Yuri returned with a great wad of gauze stuffed into her mouth.

Dragging as if his spirit had been drained, the fox carried her back toward the others. Amur casually flicked the tiny tooth he’d extracted from the toy into the cub’s palm.

Of course, baby teeth do fall out eventually. But this was no loose molar wobbling free. It was a milk canid tooth wrenched suddenly out of the gum. It had to hurt.

And yet the little tiger wasn’t distracted by pain. She was more fascinated by the tiny tooth in her hand, staring down at it with dead-serious expression. The attendants in the household would call this the “future general’s temperament.”

The small white shard rested in her palm. She turned her head suddenly to Hohyun:

“Doggy Oppa, are we going out later?”

“Hm? I don’t think so. I’d say no outings today.”

“Not even go see the tooth doctor?”

Her voice was oddly dissatisfied. It didn’t sound like she wanted to go out—more like she wanted to confirm they didn’t need to. The fox quickly checked the tooth again.

White as rice grain, cleanly rooted at the base—no fractures. Bleeding had stopped, gauze clamped in mouth. Milk teeth often came out naturally at home. If no other problem appeared, there was no need for the hospital.

Shaking his head, he reassured the cub.

At those words, Yuri widened her eyes.

“But Yuri has no tooth now!”

“It’s okay. A new one will grow in.”

It must have been her first time losing a baby tooth, judging by her serious frown as she poked the vacant gum with her tongue repeatedly. Watching her obvious doubt, Hohyun sought outside help.

His eyes lifted straight to the person nearest—the pale tiger, still seated right in front of them.

The appeal of those large, bright, expectant eyes shocked Amur for a moment. You’re asking me? They clearly said. Hohyun’s subtle nod confirmed it. Since he had caused the incident by tugging toys in the first place, Amur had little excuse.

“…Yes. Milk teeth grow back. That’s how it naturally works.”

“…Really true?”

“Yes. Larger, stronger teeth will grow to replace them. No problem.”

Two adults, two assurances—finally the cub agreed grudgingly. She trusted them because both said so, yet clearly her disbelief lingered.

To divert her attention, Hohyun leaned close and whispered like sharing secret folklore.

“You don’t need to see the doctor… but there is something you must do to make new teeth grow. Do you know what it is?”

“…No, what?”

Whispered so mysteriously, the cub’s furry ears pricked sharp. She loved tales. Suspense caught her breath.

Grinning, the fox launched into explanation—

“Well, you see—”

But Amur, overhearing, recognized where that was headed. He placed his chin in hand knowingly. Better to help firmly, he thought. So he cut in—at the exact same time Hohyun did.

“If you throw your tooth onto the roof, a magpie comes and gives you strong new teeth—”

“If you place the tooth beneath your pillow, the fairy comes and leaves a coin—”

“…?”

“…What now?”

Both tripped mid-sentence, gawking at each other. Two completely different stories.

The pale tiger scoffed first:

“What’s this? Why would a bird take teeth? And how is a little child supposed to climb the roof?”

“Well—um—magpies are a kind of bird, yes. But still!”

“Birds don’t use teeth! What would it need with one?”

“…Then what about your fairy? What’s she doing hoarding teeth and handing out money like a banker?”

And so East met West: the Eastern magpie tooth-lore versus the Western Tooth Fairy tradition. Both with holes in logic, both equally impossible to prove.

Neither side could defeat the other. Meanwhile, sandwiched between, the poor cub’s face grew increasingly lost. There was only one tooth missing, only one child—but two contradictory explanations. Which story was true?

At last Hohyun realized his mistake. He never should have cornered the child between rival legends. He compromised.

“…Then listen. The fairy rides the magpie. She takes the tooth, leaves a coin, and blesses you so your new teeth will grow strong.”

Thus was born a globalized hybrid myth. Half East, half West.

The cub finally nodded, somewhat placated.

When that finished, inevitably came the next question.

“What does the magpie look like?”

Both child and pale tiger focused in—equally curious. With sigh, the fox opened a portal search on his phone, scrolling through facts of East Asian corvids. Chubby white bellies, rounded black heads. Side by side, the tigers bent to peer at the glowing screen.

It was precisely this tableau that Kangwoon returned to—finding fox, cub, and cousin huddled shoulder-to-shoulder over a smartphone.

Expression flat, steps measured, he halted.

Amur was the first to notice, offering brightly: “Oh, you’re back sooner than I thought. Hey.”

“…Why are you here without calling—and what exactly is this combination?” Kangwoon muttered darkly.

“This?” Amur replied smug. “This is the ‘club of people awaiting the Beom family’s second young master’s early return.’”

“…Haaah.”

The host pinched the bridge of his nose. Exasperation radiated. His mood softened only upon spotting the fox rushing to greet him—and the cub perched snug against him. He jerked his head, pointing toward study.

Sign clear: there was no way this cousin had turned up without purpose. Whatever his business, state it in private—and be gone.

Dismissed, Amur rose without noise. He knew if he lingered, fangs would bare. Just like the cub earlier, all tigers born of one bloodline.

Still, he could not resist a parting jab. Flashing dimples, he beamed deliberately at Hohyun.

“Then, I’ll excuse myself. See you again, fox.”

Dimples rare in beastkind, the fox’s eyes naturally lingered curiously there. Kangwoon caught it, face tightening. Amur’s petty mission—success.

Fox, ignorant of rivalry, only whispered in Yuri’s tufted ear: “Later, let’s show Oppa your missing tooth.”

Once in the study, however, Amur dropped his casual air, sharply accusing:

“I kept quiet in front of the kid, but how long do you intend to remain in that barbaric half-beast form? Yesterday I thought you finally corrected yourself. But here you are again.”

What he condemned was exactly this: Kangwoon’s comfort in a form nearer beast than man. In the culture of the West, among the Lunties, that was unacceptable. Civilized beastfolk, as true intellectuals, ought to appear as men—never as animals.

Not five minutes into speaking, and still he scolded. Kangwoon squared his jaw, unwilling to yield.