He’s a Fox Ch 93

Chapter 93

“Just asking to be sure, Hoya… did you, uh, get leverage on him or something?”

“Ihyun—!”

Jinhyun, who had been listening right beside them, burst out in disbelief. The eldest—forever the mediator whenever the younger ones fought—scolded Ihyun with a stern face.

“What kind of thing is that to say to your little brother—‘leverage,’ seriously!”

“I mean, but if not that, then why would a guy like… that date Hoya?”

He jerked his chin toward where Kangwoon was, garnishing the phrase with that loaded “like that.” Everyone turned as if by reflex, a meerkat troop swiveling in sync. And then they wordlessly nodded. Even from the third-floor veranda, he looked like he was rendered in a different resolution than the world around him—obscenely handsome. Hypnotically so.

Only the eldest, Jinhyun—the one with the largest age gap from Hohyun—tried to defend: What’s wrong with our Hyun, huh? But even his voice lacked force; he seemed at least partially swayed by Ihyun’s point.

The family’s reactions were odd enough, but one glance back down at the tiger unknotted the fox’s fraying temper like a string dipped in warm water. The drape of the coat on those shoulders fell in clean, elegant lines; black leather gloves sheathed the hand holding the phone; and that face—cool enough to read as cold, expressionless, severe. Hohyun had just spent the whole ride staring at him and yet… he could stare again. He did stare again, eyes slightly hazed, savoring his lover.

Well, if you’re dating “a guy like that,” allowance can be made, can’t it. In the moment he decided to forgive Ihyun’s wording, the fourth-born clicked his tongue. Because he did some fashion-related gigs, his eye caught what the others might miss.

The sheen and cut weren’t off-the-rack; no chance. And look at the whole ensemble—the razor-thin coat in this cold, the watch, the shoes… Feathered to the last detail like a peacock in full rut. It could have tipped into excess, but with that face, it didn’t.

Even for Ihyun—who loved his little brother to the point of losing half his reason at the mere mention of him—this man read as extraordinary. That’s the background behind his “a guy like that.” From the back, someone murmured:

“…Is he a celebrity?”

“Nah, I’d know. Must be a regular citizen if I’ve never seen him.”

“Could be a no-name.”

“With that face?”

The tone said not a chance. Point taken, the career question closed. If Hohyun had just opened his mouth, all mysteries would have resolved—but the one with the answers was half absent, staring, oblivious to the family chatter. So the uninformed speculated on their own. Next came height.

“He’s really tall, right? Looks taller than the second brother…”

With distance, exact measurements were impossible, but the sedan beside him looked like a compact. He was well past average. Height, money, looks—every box ticked in the easiest triad by which people judge others on sight. Suhyun clapped quietly—clap, clap, clap—then nodded and said:

“No wonder the kid didn’t date for so long. His eyes were set in the heavens.”

Whether they liked it or not, the fox didn’t budge. As if feeling the stare burning through the glass, the tiger lifted his head. Sunlight narrowed his eyes; then, as soon as they met Hohyun’s, they warmed with a smile.

Recognizing him at once and smiling only for him—Hohyun smiled back, dopey as a fool, cheeks soft enough to poke a dent in. Ihyun’s face went a little lonely at the sight.

He could still recall how the little one would toddle after him, chirping “Hyung, hyung,” clinging to his shadow. When did that child grow this much? If Hohyun had heard him he would’ve made a face: What is this sentimental parent routine, creepy.

And that wasn’t all that stung Ihyun. Watching sweetness pour like syrup made his side ache with petty envy. Must be nice… The fourth-born, not yet fully recovered from a recent spectacular breakup, stared at his brother, misty-eyed—until Suhyun shoved him aside.

“…Hey, what—!”

“Don’t block the view. Move.”

His sentimental reverie cut short by a rough push, he squawked. Suhyun’s answer—big for nothing—made sparks crackle between them. While those two started in again, the eldest brother asked Hohyun gently:

“Hyun‑ah. Mind if I ask you something?”

“Hm? No, it’s fine.”

“The man you’re dating—what does he do? He’s beastfolk, right? Older than you, I’m guessing. Exactly how many years apart?”

The questions weren’t nosy so much as protective, packed with care. Knowing how trouble found their youngest, he worried regardless of how dazzling the exterior might be. Touched, Hohyun searched for words. And then Ihyun—mid hair‑pull—cut in first:

“He’s Hoya’s boss! Thirty‑one!”

“…Thirty‑one?”

“Yeah! So that means they’re ten years apart, right? The first digits will never match, not once in their whole lives!”

He said it like tattling to a teacher, barely prying free from Suhyun’s grip to seize Hohyun by the shoulders, wearing a grave expression.

“I get why you like him—I really do. But I’m against this relationship.”

“…Come on.”

“People should date their peers! Break—break… Break up. Uh. Breaking up is… maybe too far.”

His furious push toward separation petered out. He’d remembered that smile—the one that lit the tiger’s face only when it fell on his brother. Despite loving his sibling, Ihyun didn’t abandon objectivity lightly, and now he was seriously thinking it over.

Watching his brother, brow knotted like he’d met a riddle for the ages, Hohyun let out a helpless laugh. It’s not even his relationship—why is he like this? Not even their parents would poke this much. As the fox’s patience packed its bags, the fourth-born reached a judgment.

“Don’t break up, fine. Instead—make him carry you everywhere. Got it?”

If you can’t close the age gap, then close the ground gap—don’t let your feet touch the floor. The modern echo of that old promise to “never let a single drop of water touch your hands.” Lacking the housewifely idiom in his lexicon—dishwashers had long made the phrase quaint anyway—Hohyun took it literally.

“He already does that. Not piggyback, but he carries me all the time.”

“…What?”

Fox-form or human, Kangwoon loved to scoop him up. Piggybacks, no; front‑carry pickups, countless times a day. Hohyun reported this fact calmly, not as a boast. Ihyun stared, ears disbelieving. If it wasn’t bragging, then what on earth was it? Lips opening and closing like a fish, the fourth-born gave up on the subject entirely.

He had forgotten that nothing is more futile than commenting on someone else’s love life. What riches could such meddling bring? Eyes gone glassy like a stunned pollock, he sighed deeply and turned away. Sniffling, he trudged back to his room, a picture of defeat. To the watchers, it simply fortified the family’s working diagnosis: viral illness, most likely.

With the noisiest one behind a door, calm fell over the house. The source of static gone, the third settled into the variety show with satisfaction; the eldest turned back to the half‑folded laundry; and the second and the fifth, home at last, wandered to see the changes made while they were away.

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