When the weasel showed no sign of coming out, Wooheon lowered his voice, feigning gentleness.
「Mr. Lee. I heard swallowing fur is bad for weasels.」
‘I’m fine. I’m an anthropomorph.’
Sure, they could shift into animals, but they weren’t identical to their full-animal counterparts.
A real snake couldn’t close its eyes—but anthropomorphs could.
Same with fur: a regular weasel might choke on it, but an anthropomorph could just cough it up.
No problem.
「You really not coming out? I don’t allow loose fur in my house. I keep it dust-free for a reason. I’m not going to let you fill my house with weasel fur.」
And so the standoff began.
Eventually, the weasel gave in.
Wooheon caught him just as he tried to make a run for it again, one massive hand pinning him to the mattress.
And so it came to this.
Scrape, scrape.
Rake, rake.
Wooheon brushed as if he meant to peel his skin off.
His injured arm didn’t seem to bother him at all.
