"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 Four
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THE minute I was awake, I had the urge to rush to the butcher's and buy the freshest cuts. It was only when I switched on the lights in my bathroom and stared at my seven-and-a-quarter tails, that I realized why.
A week had passed since my birthday and I had not so much as a sniff of the mystery meal. Worse still, my neighbors seemed to avoid me. Even the friendly kid who lived upstairs flinched each time he saw me.
Was it because of my irritable mood swings? Probably, or it could also be that the fellow residents of the building were subjected to my tantrums, thanks to the parchment-thin walls. Unfortunately, that meant I hadn't had a proper feeding for a week.
I scowled. My flawless reflection scowled back at me.
I completed my morning chores and began to cook brunch, as I had taken my own sweet time waking up again. The meal consisted of my last piece of sheep liver (the best substitute after cow liver) fried and tossed in a bowl of glass noodles. As I sat down to eat, my wise-phone dinged. It was my manager, notifying me of something important. I checked it and indeed, it was about a shoot for a clothing line that had recently been launched, which was scheduled for the next day.
What piqued my interest, however, was the mention of the possibility of a co-model. She said the details would be confirmed by night but I was a sure deal.
I licked my dry lips.
Finally.
*
As I walked into the studio, I spotted my co-model before a lighted mirror, getting his makeup done. He was a fine specimen of a twenty-three year old man. I sniffed a little more and was disappointed that there wasn't any hint of pigheadedness, but he certainly had some rich self-love to provide. I guess I could make do with that. At this point, I was willing to take up anything apart from humility and anxiety.
We met eyes as I strutted towards the dressing room. He looked curious, his shaggy locks masking his sharp eyes. I winked.
His cheeks were rose cherubs and his sweet smell of timidity tickled my nose.
"You look pretty happy," droned my manager as she handed me my outfit. "Is it because the clothes you wear for the shoot are going to be complimentary?"
"Something like that," said I, whipping the curtains behind me as I stripped.
"Good for you," she said nonchalantly. "I do hope you're eating well, though. You look a bit pale. I will have to ask the artist to go a bit heavy with your makeup, if that's okay with you."
"Yes, it is- wait, did you say I was looking pale?" I asked, pushing a curtain behind, revealing my exposed shoulders.
My manager didn't look up. "Yes, I did. Are you on a diet?"
