He’s a Fox Ch 96

Chapter 96

Santa is a fictional figure who delivers gifts to children who’ve behaved well. Since he isn’t real, adults step in to protect children’s wonder by playing Santa’s part. With a tree in the living room and some background on Santa now in place, the plan formed: for one day, be Santa for the tiger cub. Fired up, Hohyun clenched both fists, face bright with resolve.

All that’s needed is to prepare something the child will like—but with beastkin toddlers, unexpected complications raise the difficulty. He asked the cub’s one and only older brother for help; Kangwoon blinked, a little at sea.

“Isn’t it just leaving the gift?”

“Absolutely not! This is way harder than it sounds.”

“…Hmm.”

“I know because I lived it. It’s really hard.”

With parents and siblings who went all‑in on kids’ events, young Hohyun had believed in Santa with his whole heart. But when he turned six, too many things overlapped, and the family’s attention slipped just a little—and that caused the crack. The downy little fox caught his eldest brother’s scent on the gift box. Why did Santa’s present smell like big brother? It wasn’t the wrapping; it was the contents. No plausible deniability.

Confused, clutching the new robot, the six‑year‑old wandered to the playground—where a nine‑year‑old girl delivered the blow.

“Santa’s fake! Your mom or dad buys the presents!”

Hard to believe—until he saw the same model in the department store. The truth landed. It may sound small now, but at the time the shock was indescribable.

Unlike human children, beastkin cubs have sharper senses, and keeping their wonder intact takes serious effort. No whiff of a guardian can cling to the gift. No stray wrapping paper can appear at home. And the same product mustn’t be seen for sale in the wild.

Hearing the spy‑mission caliber constraints, the tiger’s face grew complicated. Even if you pull it off, she’ll figure it out soon anyway. He himself had never once believed in Santa; his caregivers’ philosophy made that inevitable. What good is guarding a myth here if the main house would shatter it later? Still, seeing how much joy the planning gave the fox, he kept that to himself.

The most crucial factor to a successful Santa stand‑in was recruiting someone else to obtain and deliver the gift. Anyone the cub had seen even once—or might see often—was automatically out.

Friends lived far away and were awkward to ask—out. The eldest and second brothers had families—out. Big sister worked and was busy—out. That left only the youngest big brother, Ihyun. He wasn’t on a rush deadline, but freelance life is fluid; there were no guarantees.

He was debating whether to call for help when Ihyun called first. Seeing the name pop up, the fox grinned and answered in a flash.

Click. The moment the line connected, he dove right in.

“Hyung, are you free?”

[…Huh?]

“If you’re not on a deadline, help me out!”

The bare request landed; he could hear the surprise. No hello, no what’s up—just do you have time? After a couple throat clears, Ihyun answered in the affirmative.

[Of course. What’s the job?]

“Nothing wild—Christmas is coming. I’m shipping gifts to your place. Could you wrap them and bring them over?”

[Got it.]

“Wow, thanks! Hey, are you outside? Sounds noisy.”

[Yeah, you know. That sort of thing.]

“You still sound a bit sick—don’t push it. Get some rest.”

His condition worried the fox, but there was no substitute, so he asked anyway, a bit sheepish. They set the time and place; the call ended. With the hardest piece settled, the rest fell neatly into place.

He shipped the chosen items and wrapping to the main house. The day came. Having told Kangwoon he’d be stepping out to pick up something, the fox climbed into the car to meet Ihyun. For safety’s sake, the driver’s seat held a black “bear,” and the passenger seat, a “weasel.”

He was grateful to be driven without a license—but their appearances posed a problem. The weasel could maybe pass. The bear, who looked formidable at the mildest glance, could not. The Ye family’s fourth was sharp; show up with a huge predator at the rear, and he’d find a reason to blow up.

He already disliked the age gap with Kangwoon. A misstep and he’d be foaming at the mouth. And word would travel through the house uncensored. Nothing could truly hide a frame like that. The fox racked his brain the whole ride, but no solution appeared. In the end, he half‑gave up on masking the bear and entered the agreed location.

A weekday at 3 p.m. The lunch crowd was gone, but the café wasn’t empty. With two bipedal beasts in tow, every look in the room stuck to the fox, who did his best to ignore them and slip to a tucked‑away corner. It was all he could do.

The meeting time was 3:30. He’d come early; waiting was normal. But even well past the half hour, Ihyun didn’t show. He called—no answer.

He’d sworn there was no deadline—so what was this? The fox stared at the entrance, uneasy. The weasel, knees folded onto a tiny chair, nibbling cookies and sipping his drink, offered a theory.

“Perhaps he thought you meant three in the morning, not afternoon?”

“Come on—it’s three.”

Maybe if it were five or nine. But three? Who confuses a.m. and p.m.? And if he had, why choose a café at all? He sighed over the quiet phone. The black bear, chewing cake beside the weasel, peered outside.

“Those people. Been there a while.”

“Yeah? I waffled, but it’s the same bunch. Let’s move in.”

“Ah… okay…”

The weasel agreed, licking crumbs from his muzzle, then rose and gently pushed the fox farther inside. To Hohyun’s eye, the folks outside looked ordinary, but with both companions saying the same, he moved.

One minute. Two. Three. Time crept. At last—a text from Ihyun. Something urgent came up, he’d swing by briefly—meet in the parking lot. The fox shot to his feet. The weasel, seated close enough to read over his shoulder, stood too, ambling to follow.

At least the message came. New problem: the cups and plates. In most cafés, customers bus their own tables. Seeing the bear gather everything onto a tray sparked a thought. If the issue was the clash between “those people” and his brother—then just don’t let them see each other. And since hands were needed anyway, he jumped at the chance.

“He’s in the lot out front—be right back!”

“Good. Kyung‑u, clear the table, yeah?”

“You sure it’s safe?”

“I’m going with him.”

Buoyed by the weasel’s backup, the fox headed for the parking lot with just him in tow. Down a short hallway, through the door—they stepped into the garage. The fox scanned for a familiar car; the weasel followed, unhurried.

“What…? No brother’s car…”

He hesitated over calling again—when the door of a black van parked to his side flew open. Hands shot out and yanked him in. The grip was rough; he tumbled into the vehicle. Something clamped hard over his nose and mouth. Breath cut off—and darkness.

He woke to a strange ceiling.