GNT 1

Episode 1

“We’re not in urgent need of a part-timer right now. Sorry about that.”
“Ah… I see. Well, if you ever need a short-term worker, please let me know.”

Yeonwoo clenched and unclenched his reddened hands over the strap of his worn bag, then smiled brightly and bowed politely.

The restaurant owner gave him a quick once-over before returning his résumé. Without a word, Yeonwoo took the thin sheet of paper and turned to leave.

Tsk.

As he walked out, he could clearly hear the whispers of the owner and his staff behind him.

“Why would a Suin  even want to work at a gamjatang place?”
“It’s my first time seeing one up close. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s a fox type, but his face is ridiculously pretty.”
“You think we got bewitched or something? Pinch me, man.”

He could hear the curiosity and unease in their voices, but Yeonwoo pressed forward and pushed through the glass door with quiet dignity.

Reflected in the glass was a large poster:

“Urgently Hiring Night-Shift Part-Timer!”

When he first saw that sign and went inside to ask, the owner had seemed rather welcoming.
But the moment his eyes caught a single line at the top of Yeonwoo’s résumé, the mood changed instantly.

Classification: Suin
Species: Red Fox

It had been nearly ten years since the Anti-Discrimination Law for suin was passed, but prejudice still ran deep.
To many, Suin were nothing more than monsters or animals.

And maybe it wasn’t entirely without reason — some possessed abilities far beyond those of humans, and a rare few lost control of their instincts or pheromones, causing incidents that made ordinary people wary.

Still, Suin were only a small minority. Even among themselves, predator species often viewed each other as natural enemies, making unity nearly impossible.

Throughout history, Suin had been enslaved, displayed as curiosities for nobles, and even hunted as monsters. Naturally, they held little love for human society.

The so-called Anti-Discrimination Law was really just a convenient way for the government to regulate and track them — everyone knew it.
Society hadn’t truly changed; all that had happened was that being a Suin became a matter of public record.

Now, just a glance at an ID card was enough to expose their identity.
In such a world, where bias was institutionalized rather than erased, life as a Suin was anything but easy.

And that was exactly why Yeonwoo was trudging through the city, jobless and exhausted.

Because of what he was, it was nearly impossible to find a proper full-time job. Even part-time gigs slipped away from him one after another.
He was already juggling several small jobs — working regularly at a driver’s restaurant — but since losing another night shift recently, he needed something new fast.

“Let’s just check a few more places.”

Yeonwoo straightened his shoulders, gathering his composure again.

This isn’t the first time. No need to lose confidence.

After all, unless someone saw his résumé or ID, they wouldn’t know he was a Suin.
He just had to make sure his ears and tail didn’t manifest — something as natural to him as breathing by now.

The ones discriminating are the problem. Being born a Suin isn’t a sin.

Repeating that to himself, Yeonwoo marched forward with renewed determination.

But just as he stepped out onto the main road, a car sped past, splashing a wave of dirty water all over him.

“Ugh.”

The puddle — murky from melted snow and street grime — drenched him completely.
For a moment he stood frozen, then sighed and brushed off the worst of it.

People passing by whispered among themselves until one middle-aged woman hurried over.

“Are you okay? Oh my, you’re soaked! Can’t they get fined for that? Drivers these days—honestly!”
“I’m fine, really. But be careful, you might get splashed too.”

He stepped back with an awkward smile, afraid of getting her dirty.

“Watch out behind you!”

The woman’s sharp cry rang out. A motorcycle was barreling down the sidewalk straight toward him.

Thanks to her warning, Yeonwoo twisted away just in time—only to slip on the icy ground and tumble hard. Still, it was better than being hit.

“That lunatic’s driving a bike on the sidewalk?!”

While Yeonwoo caught his breath, the woman angrily pointed at the fleeing motorcyclist.
A few others stopped to look, concern written all over their faces.

“I’m okay.”

Saying it softly, he tried to brush off the sympathy in their eyes.
He could feel every gaze on him — pity for the poor young man soaked in dirty water and now sprawled on the ground.

As he stood up, he discreetly checked that neither his ears nor tail had appeared.

They didn’t show, right?

Only after confirming that did he breathe a sigh of relief.
Thankfully, he couldn’t fully shapeshift into a fox; if he could, he might have just given the whole street a free transformation show.

“This must be yours, right? Oh dear, it’s all wet.”

The woman handed him his résumé, which had fallen out along with a few candies from his open bag.
Yeonwoo smiled gratefully.

“Thank you so much.”

But then he noticed her eyes lingering on the paper — right where “Classification: Suin” was written.
Her expression changed. She said nothing, but Yeonwoo understood perfectly.

Lowering his gaze, he bowed once more.

“Thank you for your help. Happy New Year.”

Her expression was awkward now, uneasy even, but at least she didn’t say anything cruel.
Yeonwoo walked away quietly, clutching his soaked résumé.

Sure, it was ruined — but at least he’d avoided revealing his tail, and he hadn’t been hit by the bike. That was something.

The wind bit sharply at his wet clothes.

“It’s freezing.”

Shivering, he trudged onward. Public transport wasn’t an option — he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with his dripping clothes — so he walked for over an hour back home.

“Maybe I’m just hungrier, that’s why it feels colder.”

Lately, he’d been cutting back on meals to save money, so his stomach growled nonstop.
By the time he reached the rooftop apartment, his pant leg caught on the step, almost twisting his ankle. He caught the railing just in time.

“Ha… the sun’s already down.”

He had gone out just to hand in résumés and maybe catch some sunlight, but now he was soaked instead.

Straight to the bathroom he went, scrubbing the grime off. The memory made him feel dirty, so he even revealed his tail — something he rarely did, even at home — and washed it carefully in warm water.

His tail ached from the fall, but at least nothing was broken.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause I’ve been eating poorly, but my tail fur feels dull.”

He dried it carefully, then began brushing it out with a serious expression.
The fancy dog brush — a gift from his only friend, Choi Hyunmin, who knew his secret — worked wonders.

He’d once bought a cheap cat brush on sale, only for the tight bristles to yank out too much fur.
Since he suffered from patchy fur loss, each strand mattered dearly.

He’d even thought, half-jokingly, that he could sell his fur if times got too tough — but he refused to think about that. Having been born in an illegal breeding facility, that thought hit too close to home.

When his tail was finally soft and fluffy again, Yeonwoo hesitated only a moment before changing back into clean clothes — the neatest shirt he owned — and gathering a few spare résumés.

“It’s late, but maybe I can try some bars or barbecue joints tonight.”

Most people would have stayed home after a day like this.
But for Yeonwoo, this kind of misfortune was almost routine.

Actually, today hadn’t been so bad. He got splashed, sure, but didn’t expose his ears or tail. He fell, yes, but didn’t get hit by the motorcycle. That counted as a good day.

Life as a solitary fox Suin was never easy.
To make things worse, fox Suin carried the stigma of “cunning seducers” or “nine-tailed demons.”

It all stemmed from one misconception: unlike other species, fox Suin possessed fox marbles — mystical orbs that symbolized their life force.
Over time, the truth had been twisted into ugly rumors that foxes stole people’s souls.

In reality, a fox marble was a bond — a sacred symbol of absolute trust, something given only to one’s destined partner.
A fox who lost their marble, like Yeonwoo, was cursed with endless misfortune until reunited with it.

For that reason, fox Suin usually lived in small, tight-knit groups, sharing marbles among family or mates, isolated from other species.

As Yeonwoo prepared to leave again, his phone buzzed with a notification.

“A missed call? At this hour?”

Missed Calls (2)
From: Choi Hyunmin

Right after that, several messages arrived — full of typos.