He’s a Fox Ch 95

Chapter 95

It began like this. In the pauses between playing with the cub, Hohyun habitually opened the internet—and a banner line caught his eye. “Christmas special price!” A slightly awkward 19% discount badge winked at him, and the car-ride conversation from a few days earlier surfaced naturally.

He had been told it might be better not to, but it was not a flat prohibition. The reason hadn’t been given. Knowing how safety‑minded Kangwoon was, if there had been an absolute reason, he would have said so plainly.

That evening, for the first time in a while, Hohyun lay alone on his own bed and browsed Christmas trees across various sites. Time slipped; dawn began to lift. After breakfast, face a touch haggard from an all‑nighter, he stood before the television. Before a final choice, he wanted a quick preference poll from the cub and the crocodile.

Upon connecting his phone, the big TV mirrored the small screen. Perhaps because he had spent the night searching for trees, the portal’s ad slot immediately popped up a regional Christmas‑festival promotion. The bright, colorful banner made Yuri’s ears prick.

Trot‑trot—she wandered closer to peer at the screen. Seeing her interest, he smiled and tapped into the ad. There was plenty of time; the carefully pre‑selected options could wait a minute. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that less than thirty seconds into the auto‑playing promo video, he would regret that click.

[Christmas Festival!]

“…!”

[Come out with the family and—]

With a cheery voice and a wash of brilliant light, an exclamation mark practically popped above Yuri’s head. Blue irises shrank, pupils ballooning wide until her eyes looked entirely black. Sensing danger, the fox swiped the window closed—and in the same heartbeat, the tiger cub launched straight at the screen.

Thump—! Tiny claws extended, she clung to the panel. She was small, yes—but still a predator. The slash of those sharp little attacks proved too much; the delicate LED panel died on the spot. There hadn’t even been time to intervene. Shocked, the fox flung his phone aside and rushed to pry her off; the equally startled crocodile came running in a single bound.

“Young Miss!”

His heart pounded from the scare. The cub’s heartbeat thudded against his arms as well—though hers from excitation, not fear. Hearing the crash, the guardian sprinted out from the study.

One glance—frying TV hissing with noise, little sister panting hard, the fox with a startled tail out—and Kangwoon understood everything. He checked the cub’s claws for lodged debris, then lifted the wall‑mounted TV clean off and carried it away. He looked, frankly, like a man who had considered this exact scenario in advance.

The moment he pulled the power, the screen went black. Staring at the expensive appliance turned instant waste, the fox realized why the tiger had sounded so cautious about a Christmas tree. Whatever the exact reason, the cub reacted to trees. If she could do this at a mere on‑screen tree—then what of a real one?

Images of every possible accident flashed; the fox squeezed his eyes shut. The tiger’s large, warm palm swept his back slowly, and the panic ebbed. Calmly, he explained the cause.

“Flickering lights are a strong stimulus. Yuri’s young—hard to self‑moderate.”

“Really?”

“Mm. A bit intense in her case… but it’ll settle as she grows.”

If it was only a matter of age, the fox gathered every remaining attachment to a tree, stuffed it into a mental trash bin, and sealed it. He would not open that bin until the cub was older.

Yet despite that resolution, the very next morning, a large “tree” stood in the tiger’s den. Not a real tree—fabric and stuffing made up this triangular thing—but a tree nonetheless.

Rounded across its edges, it carried many scents. From one side, sweet strawberry; from another, sharp lemon. Sniffing, the fox recalled something: toys for young Canidae were often engineered with multiple smells to engage the nose. This was very similar.

He pressed the tree; squeak. That did it. Large as it was—he’d hesitated given the size—but this was definitely a child’s toy.

A plush tree for safety, since a normal one might be dangerous? But at this size, wouldn’t climbing it still be risky? Stuffing, after all, was heavy. As he puzzled, his eyes caught the ornaments strung low. Glossy black dots stared back. He realized: this was the tiger’s second safety measure.

Just as dawn broke, Yuri toddled out. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she halted upon seeing the big tree. The tiny bulb near the top drew her gaze, widening her eyes as usual. But unlike before, she didn’t charge. Her attention was divided by the small objects strung in a low band about thirty centimeters off the floor.

Simplified animal plushes—each with slightly stylized limbs—lined the tree in a ring. They soaked up her focus enough that the top glow lost its pull. Fixated on a tiger‑shaped plush, she tucked behind the fox’s legs. For a moment she peered out—then wriggled free and wrapped both arms tight around the tree.

Ready to steady the structure, the fox waited tensely. Nothing untoward happened; he exhaled in relief. Less sparkle than a standard tree—but safety and holiday ambience? More than achieved.

After the fox helped remove the tiger plush from the tree at the cub’s request, she ran to present it to the brother who had brought her the “gift.” The big tiger, who’d managed to catch two rabbits at once, received payment in the form of an affectionate kiss from the little one. The scene warmed the room. Evening dimmed; as always, story time arrived. For a cub who’d played all day before the tree, the fox picked a Santa book. Mid‑tale, the cub frowned.

“Oppa. What’s ‘harabuji’?”

Born to older parents, Yuri had never used Grandma or Grandpa. With the couple’s age, any who fit that category had passed away long ago. If Taeryeong or Kangwoon had married early, kin of similar age might have used those words, but that never happened. For a three‑year‑old unfamiliar with kinship terms, the tiger gave a simple answer.

“Your father’s father is your harabeoji—grandfather.”

It didn’t resolve her confusion. She pressed on:

“Then who is Santa?”

“That grandpa in the book—his name is Santa.”

“…But Yuri’s appa is Yuri’s appa. Shouldn’t Santa harabeoji be Santa’s harabeoji?”

Sharp point: Yuri’s appa means “Yuri’s father,” so why doesn’t Santa harabeoji mean “Santa’s grandfather”? While the fox marveled at her insight, the tiger explained, at her eye level, how a single syllable can change meaning in speech. As his quiet voice threaded the room, the fox formed a plan.

Call it: the One‑Day Santa Grand Operation.

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