"Every step you take reeks of conceit."
A Gumiho - better known as a nine-tailed fox - is a legendary creature of Korean origin, well known for its folktales riddled with charms of deceit and lies. But that's not the only thing it is famous for.
Thi...
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Chapter Three
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BLAZING sunlight was the first thing I saw when I woke up. I groaned and turned the other side, wondering how I could've forgotten to close the blinds.
Then, I remembered how I got home.
"Moon Jihoon!" I hissed under my breath.
Traipsing out of my bed till the kitchen, I began to make my morning fix of coffee.
I didn't suffer from hangovers. Not that that was a usual phenomenon in Gumihos; I was just special.
Dropping some cod-liver oil in my cup, I mixed a spoon of instant coffee in it until it became a smooth paste. Then, I added steaming hot water from the electric kettle.
While I sipped my coffee, I typed a bunch of well-chosen words to my brat of a younger brother about the importance of closing the blinds of a room. It was my off-day and I had been looking forward to a lie-in. Of course, that was all ruined by the ever-dependable Mr. Moon.
I sat on the window sill of my drawing room, watching a little fledgling in her nest who awaited her mother's return.
Pitiful, I thought, the very desire to be dependent on someone.
The minute I got my second tail, my parents left me to survive on my own. Unlike Jihoon, I had matured quickly. He took a good few years to get his first tail. It was a surprise that he didn't turn out to be as spoilt as I had expected. Perhaps our independency was one of the few similarities between us.
The same could not be said for this wretched creature.
I saw the mother bird return from a distance, food in her mouth. I turned my attention to the little one. She had noticed it too and was chirping eagerly.
I decided to have some fun.
I fixed my eyes on the mother bird and she stopped mid-air. She wasn't frozen, of course - that wasn't my intention.
I watched with undisguised glee as she struggled against the force that held her back, like an invisible cage surrounding her from all sides. Why, she couldn't even turn her head.
I didn't need to look at the nestling to know that her excitement had now diminished to worry. I could tell that she was famished, her anxious chirps were like knives on a bottle. However, that didn't stop me from breaking eye-contact with the mother. I was amused at how she hadn't given up yet.
Fatigue was seeping in like venom in her wings. Even though she couldn't collapse to the ground, I could see that she might just pass out (if birds could pass out). The squawks of her chick were getting more discouraged by the second. Yet, the foolish mother continued to beat herself and fight against my obviously greater power.
