A full two weeks had passed since Theodor had brought the fox.
He was utterly devoted. Every morning he presented the finest meat, and the water was always purified with divine power, offering only the clearest. He even prepared a comfortable nest by stacking the highest quality silk cushions layer upon layer at the window where sunlight shone best.
He could confidently say he had treated it far better than what the emperor had done.
The fox didn’t refuse the goodwill he provided. When hungry, it ate the meat; when thirsty, it drank the water; and when sleepy, it slept buried in the cushions. It even hopped around the room on legs whose wounds had completely healed.
But that was it.
When Theodor approached, the fox stopped what it was doing and kept its distance. When he reached out his hand, it stepped back just enough to be out of reach, and when he called its name, only its ears twitched without turning its head.
Theodor put down his cooled teacup and stared at the fox. The creature was licking its front paws on the cushion, grooming its fur. Its black fur, glistening in the sunlight, was lustrous, and its plump body that had gained weight looked healthy.
All of this was his achievement.
He was the one who had saved it from dying, the one who had put flesh on its skeletal body. Yet this beast seemed to have no intention of yielding its side, whether it didn’t know gratitude or knew but pretended not to.
‘It was different with the emperor.’
Each time that thought crossed his mind, hot emotion surged up from within Theodor. Though he had poured out all kinds of devotion just as the emperor had done, he received only wary eyes instead of blind trust, let alone anything else.
What was lacking?
What about himself was inferior to the emperor that a mere beast would discriminate between people?
Theodor rose from his seat and approached the fox. His patience had already reached its limit. If the fox wouldn’t open its heart, he had no choice but to approach first. Theodor deliberately wore a gentle smile as he reached out his hand. He just intended to touch it lightly.
“Come here.”
It was the instant Theodor’s fingertips, speaking in a soft voice, were about to touch the fox’s nose bridge.
Until Theodor reached out his hand, the fox hadn’t noticed he had approached right in front of it. So it couldn’t help but be startled by the suddenly extended hand. The moment it jerked its body backward in shock, its front paw that lost balance flailed through the air, and claws that passed by left three red lines on Theodor’s hand.
“…!”
Everything happened in an instant.
The fox realized what it had done and flattened its ears with frightened eyes. It backed its rear end away and burrowed into a corner.
Theodor looked down at the back of his hand. Red droplets of blood beaded up on the white skin. It didn’t hurt. But he couldn’t help the irritation that surged up. He stared quietly at his bleeding hand, then slowly raised his gaze to look at the fox.
To think that after personally presenting freshly grilled meat for three meals every day, this was the reward he received.
Theodor’s eyes remained calm, but it seemed he could hear the sound of something snapping deep in his heart. It was the moment when the bottom of the patience he’d endured while wearing the mask of a benevolent clergyman pretending to be noble like a saint was revealed.
“It seems kindness doesn’t work on you.”
Now Theodor’s gaze looking at the fox was completely different from before. In the place where even the anger boiling inside had cooled, not a trace of human warmth remained.
If the beast betrayed his grace first, he also had no need to continue bestowing goodwill.
Theodor rose from his seat. He could feel the fox’s gaze following, but he ignored it. He called the lower-ranking priest waiting at the end of the corridor and gave instructions.
“Immediately obtain a sturdy leather leash and muzzle. Ah, and a thick whip as well.”
The only thing that could control a beast for whom kindness was meaningless was fear alone.
***
The fox looked at the door Theodor had left through. Though it couldn’t understand what he was saying, judging by his rigidly hardened expression, he seemed very angry.
It was a mistake. Because it was too startled, its paw had shot out first.
Will I be scolded?
The fox lowered its body while looking at the door. It would be scolded. The thought came first that it might be hit under the pretext of punishment. Because mistakes led to punishment.
Adrian wouldn’t have been like that.
Adrian was different. Even when it had bitten him, he never raised his voice. Instead of getting angry, he always checked on its mood first.
A corner of its heart felt strangely tingly. In the silence left after Theodor departed, the fox realized once again. What it had feared wasn’t being scolded, but the fact that Adrian was no longer by its side.
The fox shifted its gaze to look down at the lively street. It was a scene that repeated identically every day. When morning came, people poured out and moved busily, and when night came, they disappeared as if by magic.
The fox searched for a familiar face among the endlessly passing people. But nowhere among the countless crowds could it see the blond man. Perhaps it was natural. He was the emperor. Even a stupid fox that had learned nothing knew well that the emperor had no business wandering around a place like this.
But even knowing that, the fox meticulously examined the people passing through the streets every day. In case it might discover him. No, perhaps hoping it might see even someone similar to him, it couldn’t take its eyes off the window.
Just then, a cold voice whispered in its head.
‘Why are you looking for him? He won’t want to see you anymore anyway.’
I know. The fox answered inwardly. It knew he wouldn’t welcome a troublemaker like itself.
Nevertheless, it wanted to see Adrian’s face even just once. It missed him so much.
The warm, large human who had saved it. The weight of sleep felt on his lap, the taste of sweet honey he’d personally handed over, the voice that whispered softly. All of it felt distantly remote like an old dream. It wanted to return. Desperately. But it didn’t know how to return, or what to say after returning.
The fox moved its gaze along the scenery outside the window. Faint but far in the distance, it could see the imperial palace’s spire rising high as if to pierce the clouds. Adrian would be there.
Was he still angry? By any chance, was he searching for it desperately? Or… had he already forgotten it?
“Whine…”
The deeper its thoughts went, the more a corner of its chest ached. The fox curled its body into a ball with a gloomy face. There was one way to shake off the depressed mood. Escaping into sleep.
In dreams, the fox was always in Adrian’s office, not this unfamiliar room. The desk with ink stains, the pile of documents stacked haphazardly, the quill pen it had played with and shoved into a corner. And Adrian. But the moment it opened its eyes, all those fantasies and warmth disappeared like smoke.
And what remained was only this unfamiliar room.
It didn’t dislike this place. This room was perfect in every way, incomparably different from the forest or the streets. Sunlight always illuminated the warmest spot, and the cushions were always soft. The water bowl was filled before it dried, and food came out precisely at set times.
Nothing had changed from life at the imperial palace except the space. Except for just one thing.
Instead of the blond man who had been comfortable to be with, only the silver-haired man whose insides couldn’t be known remained by its side.
He gave delicious food and prepared a warm bed, but somehow it was uncomfortable. No warmth could be felt from his touch, and his gray eyes were difficult to fathom.
The fox’s instinct said. That man is dangerous.
But on the other hand, it thought he might not be a dangerous person. Because the image of its father remaining beyond its faint memories overlapped with him. Each time thorns of wariness sprouted, when it faced that familiar outline, its heart would somehow ease.
‘As expected, he’s not a bad person?’
It still didn’t know. So the fox decided to stay here for the time being, as long as the silver-haired man didn’t chase it away. It had nowhere to go anyway, and outside was far too dangerous. This place with the man whose insides couldn’t be known was safer than outside where terrifying demon beasts and fierce stray dogs roamed.
The fox trembled slightly. The season had now entered autumn and the air was quite cold. The moment it tried to rise to move to a warmer place, the door opened.
The silver-haired man entered the room. As if driving out the cold air, he set down a bowl containing warm meat on the floor.
Normally, the fox would have leaped down from the windowsill and run straight toward the bowl. But now it only raised its head and remained still. The reason the fox hesitated was because in the man’s other hand was a strange object it had never seen before. That object reeked of leather.
‘What’s that?’
It looked somewhat familiar too. The fox’s blue eyes, mixed with curiosity and deep wariness, looked up at the man. He showed no sign of being angry about the earlier incident. Rather, when his gaze met the fox’s eyes, he merely wore a good-natured smile.
“Come here and eat. It’s your favorite chicken.”
The man pushed the bowl a bit more forward. The fox looked back and forth between the meat and the unfamiliar object in Theodor’s hand, then soon shifted its gaze to the hand it had scratched. It was because it had been bothered inwardly. However, no wound was visible.
Theodor, noticing the fox’s gaze, said.
“Ah, if you mean the wound, I healed it right away. Don’t worry about it. Now, come quickly and eat.”
So he’s not angry.
At Theodor’s demeanor, no different from usual, the fox finally breathed. And it descended from the windowsill and went toward the bowl, one step at a time, cautiously. It stepped forward once, checked Theodor’s expression, stepped forward again and stopped—repeating this until it had reached the bowl from which warm steam rose. The fox seemed to hesitate for a moment, then soon moved its mouth and began to eat. Munch munch, its elongated snout moved busily.
Theodor’s gaze watching that appearance turned cold again. Though he wore a gentle smile outwardly, many thoughts were turning rapidly inside.
