Plin Ch 1.6

If that’s what the law says, Plin has no choice but to write down the raw materials. Selling within the company required the permission of an executive in the first place, and permission from only the working-level staff was not sufficient permission.

Perhaps the sly nature of the fox species was also imprinted on him, he tried to take shortcuts without realizing it. When he tried to grasp the unexpected luck that rolled in as if it were an obvious right, this kind of trouble arises. Plin removed the shame and embarrassment that filled his heart. As always, it was easier to blame himself.

If the executive director did not allow sales, he would go back to the streets to sell drinks, and if it was difficult to pay off his debts with that, he would work two or three jobs.

Anticipating the worst-case scenario in advance and comforting himself that it would be okay was Plin’s old habit.

In fact, he wanted to continue selling in this company. He knew that in order to do so, he had to fawn over the executive director. But Plin knew from experience.

Nothing is solved that way. He would only be used and discarded. He knew that he would be thoroughly used, especially by someone like the executive director, who disregarded and looked down on people.

Moreover, the executive director had a hold on his weakness. He was the one who witnessed his perverted act at the company. He would tenaciously hold on to that weakness until his personality was destroyed.

Plin quickened his pace a little. Because the timer he had set in his head with a 15-minute limit had less than 5 minutes left. Beep beep. His survival instinct sounded the alarm. He wanted to move his feet more lightly, but he had to maintain a dignified attitude until he was out of the executive director’s sight.

The executive director became quiet without counterattacking. Fortunately, he didn’t catch the peddler who was leisurely leaving the office.

As soon as the door closed, Plin dashed to the stairs. He lightly pushed off with the tips of his toes.

The best strategy was to escape the immediate crisis. If it was impossible to escape secretly, he would escape with dignity.

His feet, gliding down the stairs, were as fast as if they had wings. Plin was proud as he ran away. However, he was too proud of his own wisdom to realize that he had been caught up to 15 seconds ago.

It was when he had escaped to the 9th-floor stairs. A heavy weight settled on his shoulder. It was a beast’s hand with long claws.

“Fuck… What did you feed me?”

***

Even though it was indoors, it was still morning. Nocturnal people often wore sunglasses indoors when working during the day. For them, sunlight is a sleeping pill that induces drowsiness. The man, with a long scar on his cheek that left an impression, wore black sunglasses.

The man exuded the aura of a large carnivore. It was evident in his large physique and the way he moved.

What species is he…? There aren’t many carnivorous species that match the man’s sleek atmosphere. As usual, people were guessing his species. They were always ready to impose their prejudices based on species.

The man, wearing leather gloves, fiddled with a large frame on the wall. It was an empty piece of furniture, with no decorations or books yet placed on it.

“My master is quite particular about privacy.”

He smiled, noticing them exchanging nervous glances. Just then, a loud noise sounded as the furniture, over 3 meters tall, fell over. There was even a vibration on the floor. He, who had easily knocked down the huge structure, took off his gloves and placed them on the desk.

“I was just checking if there were any beetles stuck to the back of the furniture.”

The man shrugged once and comfortably squatted down. He didn’t seem to care that his expensive suit was getting wrinkled. He meticulously examined the back and bottom of the frame, where small cameras or listening devices might be hidden.

This person was said to be the right-hand man of the newly appointed Executive Director Ydrohan. His title was sometimes butler, sometimes chief of staff. This time, he was the chief secretary. He was the one who had been assisting the rumored second son since he was young. It was said that he was the only one who had endured ‘that nasty personality’ up close for a long time, so he had his immense trust.

“Can I help you with anything?”

One of the secretaries bravely stepped forward. They hadn’t done anything wrong, but it was to break the ice in the atmosphere, which felt as harsh as an initiation ceremony.

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I-It’s nothing. What can I do?”

“But my eccentric master wants everything checked with his own hands, from one to ten.”

“Ah, yes…”

“I’m used to hard labor, to the point where my fingerprints are worn down. Phew.”

He showed his delicate hands and sighed exaggeratedly, making it impossible to approach him further. Just as they were about to offer formal words of comfort, a loud, basic phone ringtone rang out.

“Ah, excuse me for a moment.”

“Yes. It’s okay…”

“This is Thibeau Coutin. Ah, Director. How have you been?”

He put in his wireless earphones and answered the phone. He was still checking each level of the frame, top to bottom, by running his hands over it.

Some of the secretaries glanced at his phone screen.

TVO Broadcasting Station Director_Gabriel Pacino

The font was as large as that of an old person’s phone, making it easy to identify the caller.

The man seemed to know people at the broadcasting station as well. As expected, the right-hand man of Hugo von Ydrohan had a different network.

“I’ve been well. Hmm… about appearing on the program, I’ve already told you many times. These days, persistence in society is not a virtue, but an inefficiency, they say.”

The subtly high-handed attitude was probably similar to the person he served, calling him ‘master’.

“Yes. I can’t talk long right now.”

After a minute-long conversation, he resumed his bug hunt. The man, who had put his hand deep inside, groaned, “Ugh…”, and then twisted and pulled something out.

“Ta-da.”

The chief secretary spread his palm open as if expecting something. As already metaphorized, it was a small, flat listening device, like a beetle.

“There really was one.”

The man, who had been squatting, straightened up and looked over the secretaries. The smile that had been on his face until just a moment ago was completely gone, leaving not a trace of warmth.

The scar on the expressionless man’s cheek stood out. Feeling unnecessarily suspected, the secretaries each averted their gaze.

“Ah! I’m a panther. A black one, so a black panther. Everyone was curious.”

The herbivores exchanged glances.

‘As expected, a carnivore…’

‘He’s probably the type of boss who picks on you while pretending not to.’

‘Knocking over the furniture at the beginning must have been a performance to intimidate us.’

That was the first impression the secretaries had of Chief Secretary Thibeau Coutin.

“Kyaaak!”

The fox screamed loudly. It wasn’t this scary even when he watched horror movies on an old TV. Kyaaak, kyaaa, kyaaa. Echoes resounded in the enclosed space.

Thin strands of hair fluttered in the air, one by one. A strong static electricity caused a slight pulling sensation on his scalp.

“Your head looks like dandelion seeds?”

“Ugh…!”

Before Plin could scream again, the man’s large hand roughly covered his mouth. The hand that had first grabbed Plin’s shoulder was definitely that of a beast-person, but now it had returned to a normal human hand.

“…I told you, if you run away, I’ll hunt you.”

At the metallic sound that scratched his ear canal, Plin just nodded a couple of times. Hugo sighed deeply. The eyes, with their lowered eyelashes, were bloodshot and cloudy.

“You,”

He opened his mouth to say something. It was that moment.

Thud-.

“What the. What’s wrong with this one.”

If the executive director hadn’t been holding Plin’s shoulder, the fluff-like fox would have fallen to the cold floor. The fox, his head lolling limply, swayed as he was shaken. He was completely limp, all the strength drained from his body.

“Did he die?”

It seemed he had fainted from the dragon’s anger. It was absurd, but Hugo checked if his heart was beating and if he was breathing. The breath that touched his index finger was small and shallow. So small animals breathe so lightly… Hugo, having made the obvious realization, cupped the fox’s cheeks and lifted his head.

His hands became cold. Dragons have high body temperatures, so most touches feel cool, but even considering that, the fox’s cheeks were cold. His pale, chapped cheeks looked like he had never had a steak in his life.

The fox’s small face was cradled in Hugo’s hands, unmoving. Only his eyelashes fluttered under his gently closed eyes. His small lips were pursed, and an urge to pry them open with his fingers surged within him.

Hugo suppressed his desire with patience and said softly,

“Wake up.”

At those words, the fox’s body slid down the wall. Hugo put his hand under the fox’s armpit, lifted him up, and leaned him against his shoulder.

His chest rose and fell regularly. His rapid breathing smelled sweet. The warm breath hitting his shoulder added fuel to the fire that was starting to build up inside him.

His whole body felt like a d*ck.

How could you sell this stuff at a company? Hugo grumbled and took out his phone.

“Thibeau. Come to the 9th-floor stairwell. There’s something to take care of.”

– Did you cause trouble on your first day of inauguration?

“Something like that.”

– This seems like the perfect time to appear on <Extreme Job: The World of a Tycoon’s Brat’s Secretary>. Just now, I received the thirteenth offer to appear-

Hanging up, Hugo turned Plin around and looked at him.

Is he pretending to be unconscious? No, can a person even faint from something like this? He heard it was possible for small animals. Is he a hamster or what? He’s a fox, for goodness’ sake.

It was a reasonable suspicion, but there were no small animals around Hugo, so he couldn’t be sure about their mental fortitude.

Even after fainting, Plin’s hair was still floating. Usually, when you faint, doesn’t what was contracted relax? The goosebumps on his arms were still there, too.

Hugo played with Plin’s hair, winding it around his fingers, then pulled the hair straight to examine the color from the roots and check for any scalp injuries. It was a process to verify whether he was a real white fox or if his hair was dyed.

He wasn’t an expert, so he didn’t know for sure, but he didn’t find anything unusual. Other than the fact that his hair was thick and the texture felt good winding around his fingers, there was nothing special. Could he really be a white fox?

The ears were perked up, but the tips were round, not pointed, unlike a dog’s. When he touched his ears earlier, the range of motion of the reacting ears was wider than that of a dog.

But it was still too early to confirm that he was a ‘white fox’.