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Episode 1 — A Fox’s Luck
“We’re not really in a hurry to hire a part-timer right now. Sorry about that.”
“Ah… I see. Well, if you ever need someone for a short-term job, please let me know.”
Yeon-woo pressed and uncurled his red, cold fingers against the strap of his worn-out bag and smiled brightly, bowing politely.
The restaurant owner gave him a half-hearted glance, returned the resume, and said nothing more.
As Yeon-woo turned to leave, the whispers began.
“Why would a beastman want to work in a gamjatang restaurant?”
“I’ve never seen one up close before. Is he a fox type? No wonder he’s so damn pretty.”
“Did he just charm us or something? Pinch me, man.”
Ignoring their murmurs, Yeon-woo pushed open the glass door.
The words “Urgently Hiring! Night Shift!” plastered in big red letters on the door caught his reflection for a brief second.
When he first saw that sign and walked in, the owner had seemed interested.
But the moment the man’s eyes landed on the top of Yeon-woo’s résumé, the air turned cold.
Classification: Beastman
Species: Vulpes (Red Fox)
It had been almost ten years since the Anti-Beastman Discrimination Law was passed, yet prejudice against beastmen was still alive and well.
They were called monsters. Animals.
And truthfully, humans had their reasons. Beastmen were faster, stronger, and in rare cases, gifted with special abilities. Some couldn’t fully control their instincts or pheromones — accidents did happen.
Even so, there were few of them left. A scattered, divided minority.
They couldn’t unite; they couldn’t protest.
Once slaves and circus curiosities, many beastmen still carried generations of scars.
The so-called “anti-discrimination” law had done nothing but make their identity official — something printed on every ID card, ready to expose them at a glance.
No real progress, only new ways to be rejected.
That was why Yeon-woo was trudging through the streets again today — cold, tired, and desperate for work.
It was nearly impossible for a beastman to land a proper job. Even part-time gigs didn’t last long.
So Yeon-woo worked wherever he could — dishwashing, delivery, food stands.
And now that he’d been fired from another night shift, he needed a replacement fast.
“Let’s just try a few more places.”
He tucked the résumé back into his bag and straightened his shoulders.
This wasn’t new. Being turned away, whispered about — it had all become routine.
Don’t shrink. Don’t let them win.
Unless they saw his résumé or ID, no one could tell he was a beastman.
He kept his fox ears and tail hidden at all times. It was second nature now — like breathing.
They’re the ones with the problem. Not me.
With that quiet mantra, Yeon-woo forced a smile and kept walking.
And just as he stepped out of the alley—
Splash!
A passing car sped through a puddle, drenching him from head to toe in dirty, melted snowwater.
“…Ugh.”
He stood still for a moment, dripping, before letting out a small sigh and brushing at his soaked clothes.
People glanced his way, some whispering, some smirking.
An older woman hurried over.
“Oh my, are you okay? You’re completely soaked! Drivers like that should get their licenses revoked!”
“It’s fine. Thank you, ma’am. Please be careful — you might get splashed too.”
He stepped back politely so she wouldn’t get dirty.
“Watch out behind you!”
Her warning came just in time — an oncoming motorcycle was cutting straight across the sidewalk.
Yeon-woo twisted his body away and barely avoided getting hit, tumbling across the icy pavement instead.
Pain shot up his back, but at least he wasn’t in the hospital.
“What kind of lunatic drives a bike on the sidewalk?!”
While the woman shouted after the disappearing rider, Yeon-woo sat up, catching his breath.
People had stopped to stare, faces full of pity.
He brushed off the grime, making sure his ears and tail hadn’t popped out.
Nothing showed, right? Good.
He exhaled in relief.
If he’d had a full fox form like purebloods did, he might’ve transformed right there in the middle of the street — talk about a nightmare.
“This yours, young man? Oh no, it’s all wet.”
His résumé had fallen out of his bag, soaked through.
The kind woman picked it up, eyes flickering across the page.
“Ah, thank you so much.”
Yeon-woo accepted it quickly, pretending not to notice her pause.
Her eyes lifted, scanning him from head to toe now — cautious, uncertain.
She didn’t say it, but he could feel it.
He bowed deeply.
“Thank you for helping me. I hope you have a happy New Year.”
She forced a polite smile and walked away.
It was fine. Really.
At least she hadn’t said anything cruel.
Yeon-woo trudged home, the wind biting through his wet clothes.
“God, it’s freezing.”
Every step felt heavier.
He didn’t want to get anyone dirty on the bus, so he walked — for over an hour.
“Maybe I’m just hungry. That’s why it feels colder.”
He laughed weakly. He’d cut back on food to save money, so his stomach had been growling nonstop.
By the time he reached his tiny rooftop room, he was shivering and exhausted.
He slipped on the last step and nearly twisted his ankle — almost. A small win.
“Ha… it’s already dark.”
He’d gone out to deliver résumés under the rare sunlight, but now the day had stolen even that from him.
Inside, he went straight to the bathroom and scrubbed off the grime.
Warm water washed away the dirt — and the day’s humiliation.
He even unsealed his tail for once, cleaning the soft fur carefully.
“Maybe I’m not eating enough. My tail looks dull.”
After drying off, he brushed it thoroughly with a fancy dog comb — a gift from his only friend, Hyun-min, the one human who knew his secret.
Last time, he’d used a cheap cat comb and lost a handful of fur.
He couldn’t afford that again — not with his condition.
Shaking out his now-fluffy tail, Yeon-woo sighed and reached for a clean shirt.
He tucked a few fresh résumés into his bag.
“It’s late, but maybe the pubs or BBQ places still need help.”
Any normal person would’ve called it a day after all that.
But for Yeon-woo, this was just another Tuesday.
Getting drenched, slipping on ice, nearly hit by a bike — none of it was new.
If anything, today wasn’t that bad.
Because he’d survived.
Because no one had seen the ears or tail.
Life as a fox beastman was hard enough.
Worse yet, foxes had a reputation — seducers, tricksters, soul-stealers.
The rumors came from one thing: the Fox Bead — a small, luminous orb inside every fox beastman.
It wasn’t a weapon, but a bond — the essence of their spirit, shared only with a chosen mate.
A fox without his bead was cursed with misfortune.
And Yeon-woo… had lost his.
He had lost the only piece of himself that could protect him — and maybe, the person it belonged to.
As he packed up to leave again, his phone buzzed.
Missed Calls (2)
From: Choi Hyun-min
Followed by two text messages, full of typos.
