He’s a Fox Ch 98

Chapter 98

“Hey—his leg! You’re about to bend it!”

“…Oh—whoa.”

Before Hohyun could squeal from pain, someone beside the handler blurted the warning for him. The voice was so alarmed it made the kidnapper’s hands jerk upward instinctively, sparing the joint. The fox exhaled in relief, though his confusion still showed.

Seeing the fox resettled without injury, the last of the group scolded the one who’d nearly botched it.

“Watch it. The client said he’d be here any minute—what do you think he’ll say if he sees that?”

“He didn’t say we had to coddle the thing.”

“For—how long have you been doing this? You’re really asking about basics?”

“…How should I know everything! You think you’re some expert?”

“There they go again. Please don’t. Seriously, why do you keep doing this?”

It hadn’t been long since their first squabble over the fox’s species, and now the two kidnappers were snapping again. The third didn’t even look surprised. Clearly, this was routine.

The one who seemed youngest shook his head and explained why he’d intervened.

“Wolves have strong in‑group feeling, yeah? That’s probably why he’s saying be careful.”

“What? You said that’s a maned wolf or whatever. That’s a different species from the client. Does it still apply?”

“How would I know? But if he turns out to be right and we blew it—bad luck for us.”

“…Tch. Fine, fine. I’ll be careful from now on.”

His face twisted with resentment at the rebuke, but the idea of poking a hornet’s nest made “caution” an easy sell. The upshot was music to the fox’s ears: for now, no physical harm.

Granted, that came from mistaking him for a kind of wolf—but all things considered, he’d take any luck he could get. He shifted his posture, trying to sell the illusion.

Chest open, chin lifted a touch, ears pricked high—textbook bravado. But holding it hurt. Even small adjustments tugged at his bindings, a throb running up his legs. It wasn’t unbearable, but with no idea how long he’d be trussed like this, it wasn’t wise.

Soon he sagged again despite himself. Puffing out and then curling small might have made him look even slighter, but no one seemed to care. Having already decided he was a maned wolf, they missed the little tells.

They left him there to chatter about nothing for a while, then a call came, and the whole group trooped out. Alone, the fox quietly sorted what he’d learned.

First: they weren’t freelancers acting alone. Someone had hired them—and that someone was a wolf beastman. At the word “wolf,” the only one he knew sprang up—Kim Hyunseok—and he shook his head at once.

Kindness without cause and spite without cause—both were rare. He’d only met Hyunseok three times; the mood had never been bad. From the first, the wolf had looked at a fox with a strangely warm gaze.

No conflicts since, either. Unlikely. If he was wrong, it would gut him.

And hadn’t Hyunseok visited the tiger’s den only recently to warn him to be careful? If he meant harm, why raise their guard? No—definitely not him. Then who? His mind flipped back through old lines:

“There’s my cousin—Kim Kyungseok. He’s making money doing nasty crap these days. You saw the news, right? Human trafficking—made a scene.”

“Kyungseok’s got a fire under him. He’ll try anything. If he contacts you, don’t you dare pick up.”

Hyunseok, trusted enough by even suspicious Kangwoon to watch Yuri, moved off the suspect plate. But by his account, there was another wolf who’d do exactly this: his cousin, in trouble of late.

He’d never seen the man’s face. The motive, though, fit: caught up in trafficking, fortunes falling—grudges forming against anyone tied to the mess. If the fox got hit by that splash—well, it tracked.

Unfair, since all he’d done was hear tigers talk. But the puzzle pieces fit too well.

As he placed them one by one, the muscles along his back began to tremble. Too long on the cold floor; the chill sank to bone. At this rate, tomorrow’s muscle ache was guaranteed. He foresaw a bad near future and sighed softly—no complaint voiced. He couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to.

Even setting aside the stitched‑tight muzzle, the kidnappers were not fools. Their banter sounded sloppy, but watched closely, the sloppiness vanished.

They’d snatched him despite a weasel and a black bear at his side. As for their species—impossible to guess. Even his Canidae nose found no scent trail; something special was masking them.

Most of all, the promise to keep him unharmed—for the wolf client’s sake—implied the opposite: if he weren’t a “wolf,” they’d have no qualms.

And given their casual contempt toward foxes, the fox thought better of making noise. There was nothing to do anyway. He lay still, shifting now and then, and waited through the boredom.

About an hour and a half after he’d first guessed the client’s identity, he saw it with his own eyes.

A faint engine hum grew from far off. He lifted his head—barely—and soon the floor thumped under approaching shoes. The door opened; a group filed in. At the front stood a gray‑haired man he’d never seen. Behind him came the kidnappers and others.

The front man drew the eye: slightly pronounced brow ridge, deep‑set lids, sharp gaze. Nervy in the face, gray hair above. He scanned the room, searching.

There had been no one else here moments ago. It was obvious who he wanted. Maybe the floor’s dark tone hid the fox, because the man didn’t spot him at first. Which gave the fox a moment to study him back. Plain features, the kind that could blend. But the clothes were odd.

Everything hung loose—so loose it looked ready to slip off. Fancy fabric, shabby effect. Feeling the stare, the man finally noticed him. Between stacked crates lay a fox, bound hand and foot. He strode over in long steps.