Chapter 139

“I… I’ll wait outside.”

Bisol backed away awkwardly, his steps retreating. The murderous gazes monitoring the area around the house prickled against his skin.

“Cut the chatter and go in.”

If he left him alone, who knew what rumors he’d run off to spread in the village? With a scoff, Wonwoo gave Bisol’s back a shove, forcing him to take the lead.

The house had a high wall designed so that no one could see inside from the outside. On top of that, thorny vines had been planted along the wall. The only way in was through the main gate.

Swoosh!

The moment Wonwoo stopped in front of it, someone on each side drew a long blade and held it to his neck. Both were dressed in black, a sight that stirred certain memories.

The assassins who had once come to the hunter’s cabin. If not for that interference back then, not only would the mating have been completed, but Dori wouldn’t have been lost either.

He wondered if one of them could be the same person from that time, but with a blade pressing against his neck, he couldn’t move carelessly. Wonwoo was just about to try sneaking a sideways glance when—

Creak.

The gate swung open, and another figure dressed in black jerked his chin toward the inside, signaling for them to enter. Only then were the blades at his neck withdrawn.

…Heh.

Not only had they taken over someone else’s home without permission, they even had the gall to act like they were the rightful owners. This was supposed to be the house he would share with Dori once they became mates. Humans, honestly… His teeth ground together in frustration.

Wonwoo shoved Bisol through the gate first.

“Uh, ahhh!”

Bisol threw his arms over his face, as if expecting a throwing blade to come flying from somewhere.

Tsk.

Clicking his tongue loudly, Wonwoo switched places with Bisol. Then, following the black-clad figure who had opened the gate, he stepped inside.

“You’re late!”

The moment the door to the room swung open, an irritable voice rang out.

It was Yungak—a man Wonwoo had thought he’d never see again.

“…My apologies.”

Whether the wait had been long or not wasn’t his concern. Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, but his mouth remained politely respectful.

“I called you ages ago! What on earth were you dawdling for?!”

Seated at a table, Yungak slammed down the teacup he’d been drinking from and swept his hair back. The vibrant pink color that used to flow between his fingers was now a dark brown.

Wonwoo glanced at him briefly, then quickly looked away. Beside Yungak, Iyeok quietly wiped away the tea splattered here and there with a cloth.

“Idiot.”

Having spent some time in the imperial palace, Wonwoo knew exactly what kind of relationship those two had, and inwardly mocked him for it. Then he walked over and sat down in front of Yungak, who was waiting for an answer.

“I had no choice but to ensure I could leave without arousing suspicion.”

Bisol, who had entered last, shut the door behind him with a nervous face.

Tap-tap, the chick walked a few steps away before fluttering back again, as if it couldn’t bear to stray far from its mother.

Sitting on the bed, Dori watched it with satisfaction, but when Jang Sanggung’s eyes sharpened into needle-like slits, he quickly reached out his hand.

Chirp.

The chick hopped naturally into his palm. Dori cupped it gently and turned his back to her.

“…Your Grace.”

“Lady Jang Sanggung, my little one is really well-behaved. I’ll make sure it plays quietly.”

So please, don’t chase it away.

Dori didn’t finish the sentence, instead glancing toward Haban. Normally, he would have immediately taken his side, but today he just kept silently looking down at his book.

‘That petty thing.’

Dori twitched his eyes and the corner of his lips. It wasn’t even a beastman, just an actual chick, and yet he was jealous enough to sulk over it.

Chirp.

In the brief moment that passed, the little body in his hands kept shifting restlessly, as if impatient. He couldn’t hold onto it forever.

It was so delicate and soft that he had to be careful not to press the wrong spot by mistake. Dori gently set it down on the blanket he usually used in his fox form.

The sight of the yellow chick toddling across the blue silk was like a goldfish swimming freely in a pond. A pleased smile curved Dori’s lips.

“Your Grace.”

But the sterner voice made his expression quickly wilt.

From his time in the imperial palace, the two people Dori feared most were Geumhu¹ and Jang Sanggung.

‘I was going to leave soon anyway…’

The visitor who had arrived at the house smelling of blood was none other than Jang Sanggung. She had apparently grown so impatient waiting for him in the palace that she couldn’t hold back any longer.

And yet, she’d gotten injured on the way here—how she still had so much energy was a mystery. Her hair was whiter than his, her face lined with the years, yet the moment she arrived, she straightened her back and began inspecting every corner of the house.

She was leagues apart from the young eunuchs and guards. Even places that looked perfectly clean to Dori couldn’t escape her sharp eyes.

Thanks to her, the young eunuchs had been endlessly scrubbing floors and furniture, while half-naked guards were sweating buckets as they cleaned up the front and back yards.

After a while, Dori felt awkward walking around the rooms. He swore the floors were so clean he could almost see his reflection in them.

And here he was, taking a chick for a walk.

“Your Grace. As I’ve told you many times before, you must not address me formally.”

“But, Haban—”

“And you must also not address His Majesty that way.”

At her back-to-back reprimands, Dori pursed his lips.

Of course, he knew he must look strange to them. In a world where social ranks were crystal clear, the highest position belonged to the Emperor.

Even people like Jipyeong and Geumhu, who had grown up with Haban, never dared to speak his name aloud. Yet here he was—a beastman, half animal at that—calling the Emperor’s name freely.

Perhaps if he’d first met Haban in human form, he might have naturally used honorifics. But he’d felt close to him because Haban was the protagonist of a novel, and besides, he’d gotten into the habit of insulting him inwardly while pretending to be a fox. Of course, Haban had given his permission too.

…Ugh.

Dori just nodded for now.

“And furthermore, how can you… sigh…”

This time, her sigh was deliberate—deep and long.

Shrinking his shoulders, Dori shifted his gaze to the chick. Chirp. The way it tilted its head suddenly made him feel protective as its guardian.

“If you send my Lili away, I’ll leave too, Haban.”

It was his last resort.

“Leave it be, Jang Sanggung.”

Only then did Haban finally respond.

…So you were listening the whole time.

‘Honestly, what’s with targeting a chick smaller than your palm?’

Suddenly, his lower back began to ache, and he instinctively tapped at it with his fist.

Haban’s gaze landed right there.

Tap, tap. Ouch, ouch. Hearing his faintly exaggerated groan, Haban added,

“You can call me however you want and treat me however you want. If you don’t wish to follow convention, you don’t have to.”

Last night, when Dori had asked to raise Lili, Haban had refused.

Dori had been so sure he would agree that he’d been momentarily stunned. Then, feeling a wave of disappointment, he’d grabbed his pillow and announced he’d sleep in the next room—only to be thoroughly punished all night long.

When he woke in the morning, Haban had been gently massaging his waist. He’d agreed to let him raise the chick on the condition that it sleep in the next room at night.

So, with this much, he felt he had every right to stand his ground.

“Okay!”

Before the bewildered Jang Sanggung could say anything else, Dori scooped up the dozing chick from the silk and headed straight for the corner of the room.

There stood a wide, sturdy wooden box. The bottom was lined with soft straw, and there was a small birdhouse in one corner. Compared to the outdoor chicken coop, the quality of the wood and straw was far superior. Dori carefully placed the chick into the round little house.

He could feel a disinterested gaze glancing at the box. Lili seemed unconcerned, preening her wing feathers with her beak.

“But… Lili?”

“I came up with it. It needed a name.”

At first, he hadn’t planned to name it, afraid he’d grow too attached. But the way it followed him everywhere like a mother hen’s chick made it necessary. So he took the last syllable of his own name and the “ri” from “chick” (in Korean), and put them together to make “Lili.”

Closing his book, Haban came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Dori’s waist.

Feeling like he’d suddenly acquired a giant sack hanging from his back, Dori rummaged through the basket beside him. Pulling out some fresh lettuce leaves from the garden, he placed them inside the birdhouse. Lili immediately hopped out.

Chirp!

Greedy little thing—just like someone he knew—she grabbed the largest leaf and ran off. Maybe she’d been robbed of food by other chicks before, because she hurried to drag it back into her nest to hide it.

The leaf, bigger than her own body, trailed across the straw. Thankfully, aside from a slight limp, the chick was healthy.

“She’s just like you.”

“Really? Our Lili?”

At the comparison, Dori grinned without thinking, but Haban wasn’t pleased with a chick that was this gluttonous.

And why did they have to come up with a name together, just the two of them?

Even as he tugged Dori into a chair, his arms still around his waist, his gaze remained fixed on the chick.

Maybe he should sneak it into the chicken coop at night.

Of course, if he did, Dori might cry and wail, so for now it stayed as just a thought.

“By the way, Lady Jang Sanggung.”

“Your Grace. It is Jang Sanggung.”

Not a single crack in her discipline. Despite hearing Haban’s words, Jang Sanggung adhered strictly to protocol. That was, after all, her role in the imperial palace.

“Ah… right, Jang Sanggung.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Finally succeeding in addressing her informally, Dori cautiously voiced something he’d been curious about for a while.

“In the past, everyone called me… um… Fox Lord², but now they call me ‘Your Grace.’ Is there… a reason for that?”

Saying “Lord” out loud himself felt embarrassing.

But more than that, Jang Sanggung’s gaze had grown stern every time he misspoke. Only at the end did her eyes curve in satisfaction—but her answer was oddly vague.

“It is simply as it should be.”

Dori glanced at Haban.

Then, acting as though he hadn’t understood a thing, he smoothly changed the subject.

“Then… by any chance, how are Haewon, Cheong, and Hongi doing?”

“…”

Instead of answering, Jang Sanggung smiled kindly and began gathering the clothes that had been left in a heap on the bed.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I forgot I left something undone. I’ll be right back.”

“…Huh? Oh, okay.”

As if afraid he might try to stop her, she slipped away in a hurry. Dori blinked, then turned to Haban.

“Why do you keep hiding it?”

“Hiding what?”

Haban’s fingers brushed against his ear deliberately, leaving warmth in their wake. Dori’s face flushed red before he hastily pushed the hand away.

Always with this sort of tactic!

“Every time I ask how those three are doing, you, Jipyeong, and now Jang Sanggung all dodge the question.”

“I told you plainly: since you vanished without warning, of course they were punished.”

“…Really?”

“When you return to the palace, you’ll see them, so don’t worry too much.”

“Ugh, seriously! What’s with you?!”

Dori narrowed his eyes in suspicion, his hand pressed over his chest to calm his racing heart. Back when he’d tried to run away from the palace, he hadn’t been punished, so maybe he was just bluffing… but an uneasy feeling kept creeping in.

‘…Don’t tell me.’

He pursed his lips.