One Day, I Picked Up a Fox 26

A few days later in the evening, a maid brought roasted quail, steamed vegetables, and crispy bread. As the delicious smell filled the room, the eyes of the small furball sleeping soundly on his lap snapped open.

Food!

The fox’s head shot up. Blue eyes still drowsy blinked a few times, then immediately fixed on the food. When the maid set down a small bowl on the floor, the fox jumped off his lap as if it had been waiting.

The fox wagged its tail excitedly, stuck its snout in, and began wolfing it down. Noisy eating sounds rang out from under the table. Adrian slowly enjoyed his meal, savoring each bite. Meanwhile, the fox finished its dinner.

However, as always, it had left only the vegetables cleanly uneaten.

“Picky eating isn’t good.”

Seeing the vegetable pieces rolling around on the floor, Adrian gently admonished. But the fox, half-listening at best, wiped the grease from around its mouth with its tongue, then stared intently at Adrian just as it had done during the day.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

And it began tapping the floor with its fluffy tail.

It was telling him to bring out the honey quickly.

If it’s omnivorous, it should eat some vegetables too for health. To only like meat and honey like this…

He clicked his tongue at the fox’s appearance of freely indulging in picky eating and insisting only on what it wanted. Feeling that he’d somehow spoiled it badly, Adrian continued his dinner with an utterly leisurely attitude, as if he couldn’t even hear the fox’s urging.

The knife precisely cut the meat and the fork picked it up. The meat that entered between his lips was chewed very slowly, savored, and swallowed.

Tap tap tap.

The rhythm of the tail tapping the floor gradually quickened. The impatience was visibly spreading from the tip of the tail throughout its entire body.

However, there wasn’t a hint of haste in Adrian’s hand movements. He picked up the vegetables neatly arranged on the plate with his fork. Again, he leisurely brought them to his mouth.

Taptaptaptaptap.

Around the time Adrian’s meal was nearing its end, the sound of the tail tapping the floor quickened further. Adrian was deliberately ignoring it. Pretending not to hear, pretending not to care. But he could no longer ignore that sound boring into his eardrums.

Maybe I should stop teasing around now.

The moment he set down his glass, the fox’s eyes sparkled like stars. It had recognized the signal that the meal was finished.

But then, an unwelcome guest arrived.

It was Kael. He glanced at the fox sitting at Adrian’s feet, then turned his gaze to the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, Duke Bark requests an audience.”

“Duke Bark? What for?”

“He says he’s come to make a proposal regarding the improvement of western trade routes. He says it’s a matter he must speak to Your Majesty about directly. Since you’re eating, should I tell him to wait?”

Western trade routes.

That place incurred excessive costs and time for transporting goods due to randomly installed checkpoints and deteriorated roads, and merchants’ complaints about this had been continuously raised.

If Adrian had intervened directly, the problem would likely have been resolved quickly. However, the Empire was too vast, and there were mountains of matters requiring the Emperor’s direct judgment and response.

Due to these circumstances, Adrian maintained a governance method of delegating most administrative authority to regional lords, excluding core national financial matters such as taxes. The trade route problem was also classified as part of their autonomous domain.

The problem was the regional lords. Due to conflicts of interest among western territories and difficulties securing budgets, the trade route improvement project had been stagnant for years without progress. In such a situation, the news that Duke Bark had directly proposed trade route improvement and requested an audience was quite surprising.

Duke Bark was a figure who had shown relatively exceptional conduct among western nobles. He was more frugal and diligent than others, and during the past western waterway dispute, he had attempted mediation, though he had drawn backlash from both sides.

For such a person to directly visit the capital and propose trade route improvement was difficult to see as simple pursuit of personal gain. This was likely a practical measure to reorganize the entire western region’s economic foundation.

“No, I’ll go right now.”

With the sound of a chair being pushed back, Adrian rose from his seat. At that moment, the fox’s front paws lifted with anticipation.

Finally! Finally I can eat honey!

But the fox’s expectations were brutally dashed. Adrian’s steps didn’t head toward the bookshelf. He turned toward the door. The movement of the tail that had been vigorously tapping the floor gradually slowed, then finally stopped.

“Nng?”

A short, bewildered cry escaped from its throat. Why is he going that way? The honey is over there, on top of the bookshelf.

When Adrian headed across the room toward the door instead of toward the bookshelf where the honey was, the fox scrambled to its feet and ran to block Adrian’s path. And it bit the hem of his pants with an “ang.”

Wait! You forgot something!

At the small force tugging at his pant leg, Adrian’s steps halted.

“I’ll be back soon, so wait. It won’t take long.”

The hand that came down wasn’t to bring the honey jar. It merely stroked the fox’s head once and removed the snout biting his pants. And moved away again. He was about to leave.

The fox stamped its feet trying to follow again, but Kael subtly blocked the way with his leg. And just before the fox could bite his ankle, when Adrian left the room, Kael swiftly pulled away and escaped.

Click.

The door closed.

The fox’s wagging tail stopped with a thud.

Left alone, the fox stood there blankly for a moment as if not understanding the situation, then soon pattered over to the door and sniffed the gap. However, no presence was detected.

He’s gone? Really?

The small fox paced in front of the closed door, letting out pitiful whimpers. It hoped he would hear this sound and come back. However, the firmly closed door didn’t budge.

The fox’s gaze moved from the door upward. Specifically, to the honey jar on top of the bookshelf in that absurdly high place.

The fox’s love for honey was no less than for meat, and after being caught red-handed stealing it one day when Adrian had looked away, the honey jar had been moved to an absolutely unreachable place. The very top of the bookshelf. No matter how hard it jumped with all its might, even its paw tips wouldn’t graze it.

In other words, it could never taste honey without Adrian’s help.

I want to eat it. Right now. As it pondered whether there was any way to climb up to that high place, the fox shook its head from side to side.

No. Wait. He said he’d be back soon.

The fox slowly walked toward the desk where Adrian always worked. It had decided to wait there. That chair, cozy as Adrian’s lap and bed, was the fox’s favorite spot when Adrian wasn’t there, and it was perfect for waiting for him.

It lightly jumped up and placed its body on the chair. It tried to wait for Adrian’s footsteps with its front paws together and body curled up.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The sound of the clock’s second hand filled the room. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. That steady rhythm and the languid evening air could have induced sleep, but the fox’s eyes were clear without a trace of drowsiness. Honey. That small head was filled only with honey.

A long time had passed waiting for Adrian to return while staring holes through the door. Before long, the fox’s gaze left the door and turned upward. Specifically, to the honey jar glittering in the light at the top of the bookshelf.

The golden honey jar looked like a gold ingot to the fox’s eyes. The lid was tightly closed so there couldn’t actually be a scent, but it felt as if the sweet fragrance deeply imprinted in its mind was tickling its nose.

Saliva pooled naturally.

The honey was right there but it couldn’t eat it. Adrian had said he’d be right back, but that time felt like an eternity to the small fox. It was a long, tedious wait.

Eventually, in less than 10 minutes, the fox jumped down from the chair with a hop. Patience was a virtue the small fox didn’t possess. With quick steps, it approached the enormous bookshelf and stretched its neck as long as possible to look up.

How do I climb up?

No matter how good at jumping it was, reaching that very top in one leap from here was impossible. It would be nice if there was a ladder, but there was no such thing in this room. As it looked around with a more serious face than ever, a simple and clear solution flashed through its small head.

I just need to jump from somewhere higher.

The fox walked back toward Adrian’s chair. It stepped onto the plush seat and boldly climbed onto the desk. And stepping on the piled documents one by one, it finally climbed to the top of the highest document pile. A few pages fluttered and scattered to the floor, but its blue eyes were piercing through only one target.

On top of the bookshelf, the honey jar.