Theodor’s voice was cold and dispassionate.
“Didn’t I tell you? Would His Majesty want to let a strange man into his bedchamber, or would he want to hold his beloved fox in his arms again?”
Ah.
The fox stared blankly at Theodor with its mouth open.
Right. Adrian had loved it as a ‘fox.’ He had combed its fur, given it delicious snacks, and slept together—all those moments were spent in fox form. Its human form might be strange and perhaps even disgusting to Adrian. A fox with soft fur would be much easier to love than the plucked-chicken appearance it had seen in the mirror earlier.
For Adrian’s sake, it could give up becoming human. As long as it could keep him from hurting. As long as it could return to his side.
“Then…”
The fox clutched its chest with trembling hands. It could feel the energy of the orb pounding near its heart.
“If I give it, Adrian won’t hurt?”
“I guarantee it. I can make sure he sleeps comfortably starting tonight.”
The fox put strength into the hand covering its chest. The pounding pulse hit its palm through the thin shirt. It was both its own heartbeat and a signal from the orb.
It could help Adrian. The relief that Adrian would no longer hurt was greater than the fear that this small body might burst.
But at the same time, a strange stubbornness raised its head. If Theodor did it instead, everything would be resolved. It could return to being a fox and sleep on Adrian’s lap, and he would regain his health.
But why does it feel so wrong?
The fox bit down hard on its lower lip.
Adrian had saved it when it was caught in a trap. He treated its injured leg, gave it a good place to sleep, and offered delicious food.
It had only received from him. Always only received. Yet it only caused trouble, broke honey jars, and was busy making mischief. But if it handed the orb over to Theodor, then it would be Theodor who saved Adrian in the end. It would remain just a pet fawning at his side, unable to do anything again.
It didn’t want that.
It wanted to do it. Since Adrian had saved it, it wanted to save Adrian too. That was the fox’s way of calculating. Returning what was received.
Moreover.
The fox tilted its head.
“How?”
At the unexpected question, Theodor’s eyebrows jumped.
“What do you mean?”
“How do I give it? This.”
The fox tapped its chest.
“Put hand in? Or cut chest open?”
It wasn’t sarcasm. The fox really didn’t know how to take out the orb. Should it vomit it out through its mouth? Or would Theodor cut open its chest with a knife and take it? The latter was horrifying just to imagine. Cutting the chest would hurt. There would be a lot of blood too.
“Don’t like it because it hurts. Cutting chest.”
The fox trembled and wrapped both arms around itself.
“And I want to do it.”
Then it spoke clearly.
“Adrian gave to me. Gave honey, gave meat. So I’ll give too. I’ll fix it. With my orb.”
Theodor’s expression hardened stiffly. This beast didn’t understand the efficiency of transactions at all. Even the warning that it could die didn’t get through. Just the one-dimensional thought of ‘I received, so I’ll give back.’
Should he call it admirable, or should he call it foolish?
“I said you’ll die. I said you’ll burst and die. You still want to do it?”
Dying was scary. It didn’t like Adrian hurting and wasting away either. But it hated even more remaining as a troublemaker pet that only knew how to receive and didn’t know how to repay.
The fox pouted and muttered.
“Just won’t burst.”
“How?”
“Eat little by little. Chew well.”
Does it think the curse is some kind of meat?
Theodor pressed his forehead. What should he do with this stupid fox? Communication wasn’t working. It would be better to talk to a wall. No matter how many times he explained that curses weren’t food to chew and eat, this beast would obviously insist ‘just chew well.’
Theodor removed his hand from his forehead and slowly leaned back against the backrest. He tapped his clasped fingers and examined the creature before his eyes.
Reckless, stupid, and foolish. But equally fascinating.
The fox’s stubbornness didn’t seem like it would break easily. But forcefully pushing through didn’t appeal to him either. Since becoming a priest, he had tried to act as rationally as possible. Because he knew well that solving things emotionally resulted in more losses than gains.
Right, let’s think calmly. How would he extract the fox orb as the fox said? By killing it? Even if he did extract it, could he properly use it?
Typically, implanting mana stones into living bodies or extracting their power required sophisticated processing techniques. Carelessly using unprocessed mana stones carried great risk of losing one’s life.
Moreover, just because it was processed didn’t mean anyone could use it. The power of mana stones only manifested when matched with the user. If the fox orb also rejected the user, one could lose their life the moment it was mishandled.
‘It definitely stung.’
Theodor recalled the tingling sensation he’d just felt. That was clearly a signal that the orb was rejecting him. He wouldn’t die because he was God’s representative, but it could truly be dangerous if he wasn’t careful.
‘Right. There’s no need to take the risk.’
Power? Of course it was good. If it was power that could even manipulate the one who reigned at the very top in his grasp. But if he didn’t know how to handle it, it would be useless.
There was no guarantee he could utilize the fox orb 100% just by obtaining it right now. Hiding the fox from the Emperor’s view to make that power his own and continuing research with no idea when he’d find the answer was also no easy task.
It would be much safer and more efficient to use the fox instead. What was tormenting the Emperor now wasn’t insomnia but a sense of loss. Left like this, he would collapse and die first.
If he returned the black fox to such an Emperor, that alone would instantly gain the Emperor’s trust. Furthermore, if he used the fox to even cure the Emperor’s insomnia, that achievement would become entirely his own.
If problems arose with the fox in the process of receiving the Emperor’s curse instead? That couldn’t be helped. Rather, if the fox died, an opportunity would arise to take the orb.
Whichever way it rolled, it wasn’t a losing deal for him.
Theodor opened his firmly closed mouth.
“Fine.”
The fox blinked.
“Fine?”
“Yes. I’m moved by your admirable loyalty. I can’t stop you when you want to save His Majesty yourself.”
Theodor’s voice held bitter mockery, but there was no way the simple fox could detect that subtle nuance. The fox just smiled brightly.
“Thank you! You’re a good person.”
A good person.
Theodor rolled those words on the tip of his tongue. A bitter aftertaste remained. That word opened a drawer of old, rusted memories without warning.
The back alley where the fishy smell of sewers and pieces of moldy bread rolled around. Even in that muddy pit, there was a child who alone shone brightly. Just for handing over one stolen apple, the child had smiled as if gaining the whole world and said:
‘Theo is a good person.’
He hadn’t known then how heavy a burden that innocent trust was. The world was too harsh to protect that trust. And now, this man wearing the guise of a beast was looking up at him with the same eyes as that child. Not knowing it was being used, not knowing it was being driven to death.
Theodor didn’t erase the smile on his lips. Only the temperature in his eyes dropped a bit more.
“That’s excessive praise.”
He replied briefly and turned around. He picked up the teacup on the table and brought it to his mouth. The completely cold tea went down his throat. A bitter taste lingered on the tip of his tongue.
“Don’t be mistaken. I’m not helping you. I’m only moving for His Majesty’s sake, and for the Empire’s peace.”
It was a line-drawing statement. A self-defense that he wouldn’t give affection, or wouldn’t hold guilt.
The fox tilted its head. To it, the difference between ‘helping’ and ‘for the sake of’ was ambiguous. Since he said he would ultimately send it to the imperial palace, Theodor was definitely a good person.
“Thanks anyway.”
The fox grinned. Theodor set down the teacup and clicked his tongue. They say there’s no cure for stupidity.
“The thanks are enough. I’ll take you to the imperial palace. I’ll tell His Majesty that I accidentally discovered you lost in the forest and was protecting you.”
Color returned to the fox’s face. Finally it could meet Adrian. The soft bed, sweet honey, and above all, the embrace it had missed. Everything would return to its place. The fox tried to jump up from the chair.
“Before that.”
Theodor’s cool voice grabbed the fox’s ankle.
“Before going, there’s something we need to promise.”
The fox stopped in an awkward half-risen position.
“Promise?”
“Yes. A very important promise that must never be broken. If you can’t keep this, His Majesty will never keep you by his side again.”
At the words ‘never again,’ the fox gulped. Its back straightened automatically from tension.
“What is it? I keep promises well. If you say wait, I wait. If you say eat, I eat.”
“This is a bit more difficult than that.”
Theodor bent forward and met the fox’s eyes. His gray gaze bound the fox.
“First, you must never show your human form in the imperial palace. Except when alone with me, you must remain a fox even if it kills you.”
The fox nodded. It already knew that fact. It didn’t want to be treated like a monster.
“Yeah. I know. It’s scary.”
“Good. And second. Only absorb the curse on days when I visit the imperial palace.”
