Chapter 3

After nightfall, I dismissed Rose and sat on my bed, waiting. The candles were lit. In my hand, I held a comb for fur instead of my hair. I knew from my previous life that foxes loved being groomed.

Just after midnight, I heard a rustling sound.

It was coming from under the bed.

I leaned over the side and looked. A pair of golden eyes shone in the darkness.

"Come on out," I said, patting the edge of the mattress. "No need to hide."

The eyes blinked, and then a small white shape scurried out from under the bed.

It was the five-tailed white fox.

He stood there, tilting his head, his ears bolt upright as he tried to gauge if I was a threat. I extended my hand, palm up, gradually moving toward him. "Here now. Come on."

He hesitated before it padded forward cautiously and sniffed my fingers. His nose was cool and wet, tickling my skin.

Suddenly, his ears flattened back against his head, a sign of relaxation in canids.

He hopped onto the bed, circled my legs twice, and sat down with a soft thump, with the five tails fanned out neatly behind his body.

He was too adorable.

I resisted the urge to squeal and began to stroke his fur, starting from the top of his head.

His fur seemed to shimmer in the candlelight, feeling even softer than last night, probably because he wasn't scared now, and his coat was puffed to its maximum fluffiness.

He started to make a sound, not a yip, but a low, continuous vibration that rumbled deep in his throat.

I had owned cats in my previous life. They purred when they were content. This fox's purr was even better than a cat's, like a tiny, well-oiled engine.

I stroked his back, and his ears twitched.

When I scratched under his chin, his eyes narrowed in pleasure.

I started grooming his tails—all five at once—and his entire body went limp. He melted into a puddle of white fur on my lap, his purr growing as loud as a tractor.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"And you said you don't snore," I whispered. "You did it all last night, and now you're denying it."

He couldn't understand me, of course. He was just a fox, but he was not a normal fox. He was Kaelen, a man who was a cold-hearted warlord by day and a fluffy creature begging for pets by night.

The contrast was enough to make me laugh for a year.

I groomed the fox for about an hour before he fell asleep in my arms. I pulled the blanket over him, leaving only his furry head exposed. The tips of his ears twitched in his sleep like two white petals.

I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep myself.

The next morning, I was once again woken by a loud crash.

Kaelen had fallen on the floor again.

He looked even more disheveled than yesterday. The blanket was tangled around his legs, his robe was nowhere in sight, and he was sitting shirtless on the floor, his expression shifting from confusion to shock to fury in a truly impressive display.

He pointed at me, his finger trembling. "You... Why are you still here?"

I leaned back against the headboard, looking at him calmly. "Your Grace, this is my room. Where else would I be?"

"Last night, I..." he muttered.

"You went to sleep early again last night," I said, gesturing to the tangled blanket on the floor. "But you're a restless sleeper. You rolled right off the bed.

"I tried to help you up, but you refused, saying, 'I can get up myself.' And then you started snoring again."

His face flushed a deep crimson. "I do not snore."

"You do," I said, imitating the sound. "A sort of rumbling purr, like this."

His lips trembled for a moment, but in the end, he said nothing. He just grabbed his robe, wrapped it around himself, and stormed out of the room.

The door slammed with a resounding crack.

I looked down at the new white fur between my fingers and carefully added it to my collection in the handkerchief.