Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(29)

“So you spy on people?” she asked.

“I don’t make them talk about their private life in public.”

“Creep,” Miyoung muttered.

Jihoon shrugged. “You have a funny way of saying thank you.”

“For what?”

“They stopped gossiping. When they think you can’t hear, they lose interest.”

Miyoung stared at him so long he felt the urge to fidget. “You say that like you have experience with it.”

“You say that like you care if I do,” Jihoon said as the next bus rolled to a stop in front of them.

Miyoung’s lip curled before she boarded the bus.

She took a seat in the back and Jihoon slid in beside her. She scowled, but didn’t protest.

“Why did you let those kids talk about you?” Jihoon asked. “You could have taken them.”

“If I cause a scene, they’ll start to pay more attention to me.” Jihoon lifted a brow. It seemed they had something in common, a need for privacy. He tucked that tidbit away to chew on later.

“Thank you.” The words were almost lost among the rumble of the bus and the chatter of the other passengers.

“What?” Jihoon asked, leaning closer.

“If you didn’t hear, then I’m not repeating it,” Miyoung said.

“You’re welcome,” Jihoon said. “It was no problem. I’m good at avoiding negative attention.”

Miyoung studied him, her eyes so dark and direct that he wanted to lean away. “Oddly, I think I believe that.”

The pitying look made Jihoon squirm. To combat the nervous tension in his shoulders, he stretched out like he had not a care in the world, draping his arm across the back of the seat in a leisurely sprawl. “So what do you usually do after school?” He gave a cheeky grin that he knew would deepen his dimples.

She didn’t answer and slid her eyes toward his hand, almost touching her shoulder. He retracted his arm for fear she’d rip it off.

“I usually go to the PC room,” he said. “Do you play L-o-L?”

Miyoung stared out the window, ignoring him.

That just made Jihoon more determined to get a reaction out of her. “One of my favorite champions is Ahri.” Jihoon chuckled. “If you played, you’d get the joke.” He leaned in and said in a stage whisper, “She’s a gumiho.”

Miyoung glared at him. Jihoon grinned. She continued to glower, unmoved by his best weapon. His smile wavered. “Do you really not do anything for fun? Sports? Knitting? Ancient tea ceremonies?”

“I don’t do things for fun,” she said.

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

Jihoon shrugged. “Because it looks like you could use a friend.”

“I don’t need friends,” Miyoung muttered.

“Everyone needs friends,” Jihoon countered, despite the frown Miyoung gave him.

“Fine, I watch TV, read, eat.” She ticked off her fingers for each thing.

“So things you can do at home.”

“Things I can do alone,” Miyoung clarified, then turned firmly back toward the window.

Jihoon let her end the conversation this time. He figured a smart man knew when to stop poking at a sleeping bear. Or, in this case, a sleeping fox.



* * *



? ? ?

At dinner, Jihoon stirred his galbi-jjim, thick hunks of beef and potatoes swirled in a gooey brown sauce both savory and sweet. He plucked up a roasted chestnut, then let it plop back down into a pile of carrots. Dubu sat beside him, her tail thumping hopefully against the floor, but she knew better than to outright beg. At least not in front of Halmeoni. Unfortunately for the dog, tonight Jihoon was too distracted to sneak her a bite.

He glanced furtively at his halmeoni, then back at his food.

He did this three times before she said, “Ahn Jihoon, if you keep staring at me, I’m going to think you did something wrong.”

“No, I didn’t. Lately,” he added with a wry grin.

“I found this in your laundry,” Halmeoni said, pulling out the bright yellow bujeok. “You’re supposed to keep it on you at all times.”

Jihoon frowned at it, remembering the night in the forest. How that dokkaebi had used a talisman against Miyoung. Slowly he picked up the paper. “Halmeoni, I have a question about those fables you used to tell me.”

“Yes?” Halmeoni set her chopsticks down and folded her hands in front of her to show he had her full attention.

“Do you know what made gumiho bad?”

“Where did this come from?” Halmeoni sat back, like someone settling in for a particularly interesting conversation. They sat on the floor at the low table in the living room. Halmeoni’s back was to the sofa so she could lean against it.

Jihoon sat cross-legged opposite her, thinking through his words. “Just curious. I remember there was a story about a fox spirit that was good. She helped a monk find enlightenment. I wonder what made the fox turn bad.”

“It’s not as simple as you’re implying.” Halmeoni’s tone became didactic. “A fox is an animal just like you and me. She does not choose evil or good upon coming into this world.”

Jihoon nodded along. His halmeoni liked to take a circuitous route to get to her points, but he always loved hearing her stories.