Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 89: That Capitalist Fox

Ren’s expression soured instantly, like she had just bitten into a lemon that had gone bad three weeks ago.

"The Fox," she repeated, her voice laced with desperate hope. "You mean... a different fox? Maybe a wise, elderly fox elder? A librarian fox? A super kind and humble fox?"

Syris looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "There is only one Fox Shaman of importance. Vex. The Trickster."

Ren’s face darkened with pure despair. She buried her face in her hands.

’Of course. Of course it’s him. Why would the universe give me an easy quest NPC when it can give me the guy who probably charges an admission fee to breathe his air?’

She remembered Vex clearly. The orange ears, the three tails, the roguish grin that hid a mind sharper than an obsidian blade. He was the one who had sold her the information about Vara. And the price? Her last bar of rose-scented soap.

The man was a menace. A capitalist in a fox fur.

’He isn’t going to tell us anything for free,’ Ren thought grimly. ’He’s going to want payment.’

She paused.

’Wait. I have the Shop.’

She checked her inventory. She had soap. She had spices. She had stainless steel pots. She had tools that could revolutionize a kingdom. If Vex wanted trade, she could bury him in modern conveniences until he suffocated. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"Okay," Ren exhaled, dropping her hands. "We have to talk to him. How do we get him here? Do we send a messenger pigeon? A smoke signal? Is there a Bat-Signal but for annoying foxes?"

Syris blinked, his brow furrowing. "What? What is a ’pigeon’?"

Ren rubbed her temples. ’Right. Primitive world. No postal service whatsover.’

"How do you contact him, Syris?"

"I send Viper," Syris stated simply, as if this were the most obvious solution in the world. "Viper runs to the forest. He finds the Fox. He commands the Fox to come to the Palace. The Fox comes."

Ren shook her head violently. "No. That won’t work."

"Why not?" Syris looked offended, puffing out his chest. "I am the King. I am the strongest. They all fear me. If I summon him, he comes. He would not dare refuse me."

"Syris," Ren said flatly. "He lied to you about Kael being dead. He looked you in the face and told you the Tiger King was gone. Did he look fearful then?"

Syris opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. A flash of genuine anger crossed his face as he remembered the deception.

"He lied," Syris hissed, his amethyst eyes flashing dangerous sparks. "He mocked me."

"Exactly," Ren said. "He didn’t lie for power. He didn’t lie for strategy. He lied because he was bored. He did it for his own entertainment. He probably laughed because it was funny to him."

Ren stepped closer to Syris, gripping his wet sleeve.

"I know his type, Syris. He doesn’t care about your strength or your title. He cares about the show. He cares about what keeps him entertained and what benefits him."

She looked Syris dead in the eye.

"If we send Viper, Vex will stall. He will play games just to see Viper get frustrated. We can’t afford games. We have to go to him. We have to show up on his doorstep so he can’t change the channel."

Syris looked at her. He looked out the dark window where the swamp rain had begun pouring down.

He hated the forest. He hated mud. He hated foxes. And he really, really hated leaving his Palace.

But he looked at Ren’s fierce green eyes, blazing with determination to save her other mate.

He sighed, a long, dramatic exhale of defeat.

"Very well," Syris grumbled. "You are stubborn, Little Chef. We will go to the forest."

Ren beamed at him. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet," Syris muttered, pulling his wet robe tighter around himself. "I need to prepare. I must gather weapons. And supplies. And dry clothes. You should sleep. We will leave at first light."

With a swirl of wet silk, the Snake King swept out of the scullery.

Ren turned to the two snake girls, who were still huddled by the hearth, licking their bowls clean.

"You two," Ren said gently. "Great job today. Go rest. You’re dismissed."

The Coral and Albino snakes scrambled up, bowing frantically.

"Thank you, Mistress! The soup was magic! We love you!"

They scurried out, their tails disappearing around the corner, leaving the kitchen suddenly quiet.

It was just Ren and Kael.

The fire popped, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. Kael was sitting on the floor near the woodpile, his back slumped against the wall. His massive legs were splayed out, the loincloth straining across his hips.

He wasn’t moving. He was just staring into the middle distance, his red eyes glowing softly in the dim light. He looked lonely. He looked like a statue of a forgotten god.

Ren walked over to him slowly. Her footsteps were silent on the stone.

She reached him and lowered herself to the ground, kneeling between his spread legs.

He didn’t growl. He didn’t lunge. He just slowly lowered his gaze to look at her.

Up close, the redness in his eyes was terrifying. It wasn’t just a color; it was a living, swirling energy that seemed to be drowning out the warm amber she loved. His face was stoic, stripped of the playful arrogance she was used to.

Ren reached out. Her hands were cold from the damp air.

She placed her palms on his cheeks, cupping his face. His skin was burning hot, radiating the feverish heat of his feral state, but smooth under her touch.

He leaned into her palms instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before snapping open again—still red, still lost.

Ren met his gaze, searching for any spark of the man inside.

"There’s still one thing I haven’t tried," Ren said as her gaze shifted to his lips.