Mudoo - Chapter 30

When Seula opened her eyes in the morning, the space beside her was empty. She writhed in embarrassment and buried her face in the blanket, screaming silently.

How was she supposed to face Kang Tae-shin now?! If she could erase just one memory from her life, she’d wipe out last night without a second thought.

But the sun still rose, and a new day had arrived—just like it always would. No matter what, mornings would keep coming, and life would go on.

Dragging her heavy body, she trudged downstairs. It was already lively down there; everyone must’ve been up for a while.

“Late sleeper of the day, confirmed! Confirmed!”

Dong-gil was the first to greet her, prancing around in circles.

“Morning, Dong-gil.”

She rubbed her forehead and made her way to the kitchen, where Tae-shin and Hobun were setting the table for breakfast. Ignoring them, she went straight to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged it down.

“I didn’t expect someone like you to have such a wild side, Seula.”

Hobun appeared before her, hands politely clasped together, his trademark sweet smile on full display. He looked radiant as always—tall and slim, bundled up in a padded jacket, exhaling into his hands to warm them. Even after drinking the night before, his face was completely puff-free.

“Do you get facials or something, Hobun? Or do you use gua sha regularly?” she asked, wiping her lips with her sleeve.

“It’s just natural beauty.”

“Oh. Right.”

He clearly knew how pretty he was.

From in front of the stove, Tae-shin glanced over, trying to stifle a laugh behind one hand.

“Don’t you dare laugh. I’m in a fragile mood this morning.”

Still holding her empty water bottle, Seula plopped herself down at the table, pouting.

“So, we’re in bratty mode now?”

“Come on, Tae-shin. No matter how off the rails I go, I’ll never catch up to you.”

“Now we’ve got two rebels in the house. Poor Dong-gil’s gonna have his paws full.”

Tae-shin placed a pot of ramen in the center of the table and sat across from her. Hobun, sitting beside him, gave a curious little tilt of the head.

“You two must’ve had a very interesting conversation last night.”

Seula stayed silent, scooping a generous portion of noodles into her bowl. Even Tae-shin didn’t reply. Hobun pouted dramatically.

“Is this a ‘mere fox doesn’t need to know’ kind of thing?”

“That’s just your insecurity talking.”

Finally, Tae-shin muttered a response. Seula focused on slurping her noodles like no one else was even there.

“Don’t fill up on ramen, Seula. We still have to go get a squid sundae.”

Apparently, Hobun didn’t know how divine ramen tasted after a night of drinking. While Seula polished off her bowl, he only managed to nibble three strands of noodles.

***

On the drive back to Seoul, Seula sat in the back seat instead of her usual shotgun spot. Dong-gil looked just as tired, snoozing with his chin on her thigh.

Hobun played with various buttons in the front until Tae-shin shot him a glare, prompting him to stare silently out the window instead.

Seula wanted to switch with Tae-shin and take the wheel for once, but she still hadn’t gotten her driver’s license. Like most things, getting it required time and money—neither of which she had to spare.

“Hobun, don’t you have a license?”

With all his time and money, she just assumed he did.

“Foxes don’t drive,” he replied, as if it were some mystical rule.

“Why not?”

“It’s not that I won’t—it’s that I can’t. I couldn’t even pass the basic driving test, let alone make it to the actual road.”

His answer was so graceful she almost believed it was some sacred fox code. But Tae-shin chimed in with the truth, leaving Hobun momentarily flustered before he recovered with a gentle smile.

“Well, there’s no real need to drive these days. Trains and buses go everywhere.”

“Then get off.”

Tae-shin’s flat voice cut through the air like a knife. Hobun wisely shut his mouth. He seemed to have realized that in a moving car, the one holding the wheel ruled the world.

Eventually, they reached Cheonghae-dong. Tae-shin parked at the bottom of the steep hill where the hanok homes began.

Seula stepped out with Dong-gil, stretching her arms toward the sky. Dong-gil yawned and stretched his paws with a content groan.

“Hobun, do you think you’re okay heading home now?”

Wearing Seula’s sweatshirt under a puffy coat, Hobun looked glum.

“I’d love to stay a few more days… if Tae-shin would allow it.”

Tae-shin didn’t seem surprised and spoke calmly.

“Don’t even think about spreading your tails. I’m already struggling with Dong-gil’s shedding.”

“But I have to brush my tails once a day. It’s part of the maintenance.”

“Then go outside to brush them.”

Smiling serenely, Hobun walked beside Seula as they made their way up the hill. Tae-shin and Dong-gil had already gone ahead.

“Mr. Tae-shin might talk bluntly and sound harsh sometimes, but he’s warmhearted deep down, isn’t he?”

“Does he treat you the same way?”

“Of course. People with deep hearts often seem cold on the surface.”

“I just thought he was kind of a jerk, honestly.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Hobun chuckled behind a hand.

The thought that Tae-shin treated everyone the same way—that she wasn’t special—burned a little. Seula watched his back with a faint bitterness stretching her lips.

***

Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, Hobun stepped out to the pavilion with a bamboo comb in hand.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Behind him, nine shimmering silver tails appeared.

Humming softly, Hobun began brushing each tail with great care.

A dark figure slowly approached, and before long, Tae-shin emerged, leaning against one of the wooden pillars of the pavilion.

“Look at all that fur.”

Knowing Tae-shin was nearly obsessive about cleanliness, Hobun only smiled gently.

“Do you brush Dong-gil’s fur too?”

“He should do it himself. He’s old enough.”

“I miss living with other foxes. We used to brush each other’s tails and talk about our day. It was… nice.”

After being hunted relentlessly, the foxes had scattered across the country—some probably didn’t survive. Hobun hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. Just like that, they’d been torn apart.

“I overheard your conversation last night.”

Tae-shin scrunched his brow at Hobun.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just have very sharp hearing.”

“Don’t tell Seula. She might vanish out of embarrassment.”

“She seems pretty upset with you.”

Tae-shin smirked slightly at the thought of Seula avoiding him all day.

“You should’ve accepted her feelings.”

His expression stiffened.

“You know it’s just a crush.”

A fleeting feeling—nothing more. Even Tae-shin knew that.

She didn’t really know him. If she ever found out everything he’d done to pull her into his world, she’d look at him with disgust.

He could still see her face, pure and soft, from the day they walked by the sea. That innocent glow, completely untouched by darkness…

Being around her had made him smile more often than he liked to admit. That side of him felt unfamiliar—sometimes even a little scary.

He finally spoke again, voice low.

“Crushes… they always end.”

“Exactly. So why is it so hard to just accept someone’s heart? It’s going to end anyway.”

But not for him.

Tae-shin couldn’t die. Immortality wasn’t freedom—it was a burden. The weight of eternity dragged at his heels.

He spent his days escorting souls across the Sando River, always near death yet unable to reach it himself.

He looked out across the imaginary riverbank and let out a long sigh. A puff of white breath floated into the cold air. He’d seen countless winters, but that visible breath never stopped feeling magical.

“If I ever cross the Sando River first,” Hobun said, “I’ll ask Yama to strip the divine peach essence from your soul.”

“If begging worked, I’d already be in the afterlife.”

“My requests are special,” Hobun replied with a sly smile.

“Because I’m beautiful.”

Tae-shin shut his eyes, as if regretting even engaging.