Sohwa did not wake for a long time.
For ten agonizing days, she lay burning with fever, her small body trembling beneath the blankets. Even in the depths of unconsciousness, she murmured—broken, desperate words that made Dohvi's chest tighten with every syllable.
"N-no... I can't... No... If I die... I can't..."
_Who does she mean?_
He sat rigid at her bedside, jaw clenched, mind spiraling.
_Who is so precious to her that they consume her thoughts even now? That wretched raccoon? The fox I killed? Or that damned Imoogi?_
Jealousy coiled hot in his stomach, but beneath it lurked something far worse—**fear**. The pearl was supposed to heal her. But what if it had been a trick? What if the stone from such a young dragon, barely three hundred years old, lacked the power to save her?
The wait for her to open her eyes stretched into eternity.
For those ten days, Dohvi felt as though he had been plunged into ice-cold water one moment and thrown into boiling flames the next.
During the day, he sat vigil at her side, her small hand clasped tightly in his, and prayed to whatever gods might listen for her survival. He whispered her name like an incantation. He pressed his forehead to her knuckles and begged.
But at night—
At night, rage consumed him.
The memory of what those hunters had done, the wire around her muzzle, the boot on her throat—it ignited something monstrous within him. He would transform and descend upon the nearby villages, tearing through homes and scattering livestock. His roars shook the mountains until the terrified villagers fled, abandoning everything they owned and leaving behind only ominous whispers of a demon in the peaks.
---
"Dohvi... Dohvi..."
Sometimes, in her fevered sleep, the fox called his name.
Her voice was so full of pain—so heavy with longing—that Dohvi wanted nothing more than to crawl into her dreams and tell her: _I'm here. I'm right beside you._
He pressed his lips to her burning forehead.
_Even if you never wake... I will stay with you forever._
"Dohvi..."
---
When she finally opened her eyes, he fell to his knees.
The vicious tiger—who had always considered himself the only worthy creature in the world—experienced true humility for the first time in his existence. He pressed his forehead to the floor and offered silent thanks to the heavens.
"Since you're here..." Sohwa's voice was barely a whisper, cracked and dry. "...answer me."
Her eyes had not yet focused, but she knew. She recognized the warmth of the hand that held hers so tightly—had held it, she somehow understood, for a very long time.
"I'm here, Sohwa." Dohvi's voice trembled. "I've been here the whole time."
He dipped a cloth into cool water and pressed it gently to her forehead, brushing back the damp strands of hair that clung to her skin. Her chapped lips quivered. They parted slowly.
"I love you."
His hand froze.
For a moment, he forgot to breathe. He leaned closer, certain he had misheard—certain his desperate heart had conjured the words from nothing.
"Repeat that."
Sohwa, with visible effort, lifted a trembling hand and touched his hair. The soft strands slipped between her fingers like silk, and something in her expression softened.
She stroked his head in silence for a long moment, her touch impossibly gentle. Then, quietly:
"You are my precious tiger. You always have been." Her eyes glistened. "From the very beginning... until now."
---
The confession struck him like a physical blow.
Dohvi felt something crack open in his chest—twenty years of longing, of hoping, of being pushed away and pulling closer regardless. So *this* was what it meant to finally receive her love.
Shame washed over him, hot and sudden. He remembered the foolish cub he had once been—the beast who had looked at this sweet, gentle fox and thought only of devouring her.
_How could I have been so blind?_
Swallowing the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm him, Dohvi continued to stroke her hand, his touch reverent.
"Why did you rush at those hunters, Sohwa?" His voice was rough. "With your strength... what exactly were you planning to do?"
"I fought them bravely," she replied, her breathing still labored. "You just didn't see."
He remembered the clearing. Six hunters—all of them dead or broken. Her bravado, her stubborn confidence... it was so utterly *her* that he couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"You saw that they had guns, didn't you?"
"I saw." She paused. "I almost wet myself from fear."
"You could have run away. You're an expert at that."
A ghost of her old mischief flickered across her pale face.
"But they boasted so loudly—bragging about how they'd come to hunt a tiger." Her eyes met his. "So I became curious... what kind of hunters they really were."
Dohvi went still.
_This tiny fox... fought those men for me?_
"I thought," Sohwa continued, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, "that as long as I was alive, they would never even see your face. So I threw myself at them."
"You did this... for *me*?"
He leaned closer, searching her eyes. Sohwa hesitated—then gave a small, fragile nod.
"Yes."
The word hung in the air between them.
"It was a fight to the death," she admitted. "And I was ready for it."
A pause.
"For you."
---
_Where did that courage come from?_
Sohwa blinked slowly, her mind drifting back through the haze of recent memory.
She remembered leaping toward the cliff's edge, heart pounding—and the black python erupting from the cave as if it had been waiting for her, its massive jaws stretching wide enough to swallow her whole. She remembered tearing free, scrambling into the mountains, and somehow—*somehow*—fighting through a crowd of armed hunters.
_How... how did I even survive?_
Even if she wanted to tell someone, no one would believe her. The cowardly fox Sohwa, showing courage? *Unthinkable.* She could scarcely believe it wasn't all a fever dream.
"If you did this for me," Dohvi said softly, "it means you truly love me."
"I...?"
_The one who left you nothing but a note and ran away?_
She had returned. She had faced the hunters. And the truth was... she simply couldn't help herself. They had lived together for twenty years, and somewhere along the way, warm affection had taken root in her heart. Even toward such a troublesome boy—*especially* toward such a troublesome boy—feelings had grown, quiet and stubborn as weeds.
_A drop of soy sauce._
That was how much she had once thought he mattered to her.
_So... does that mean I truly love Dohvi? Enough to leap to my death without hesitation? Without the slightest fear?_
The more she considered it, the more undeniable the answer became.
_I would never have done that for a raccoon._
A strange peace settled over her. Her life had nearly ended at a hunter's hands—so why not spend whatever remained with the tiger she valued more than her own existence? Even if, someday, he devoured her whole.
Everything was returning to normal.
She remembered again how she had found him twenty years ago—a tiny, shivering cub abandoned at the roadside. Back then, she hadn't cared who or what he was. She only wanted someone to keep her warm. Someone to make the winters less cruel.
And so she had picked up a tiger.
---
"Is it true?" Sohwa tilted her head, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Do I really love you?"
Dohvi saw her hesitation—the familiar spark of mischief returning to her eyes—and decided to put an end to it.
"Now you won't be able to live without me," he declared, leaning close. "You won't be able to eat properly. You won't be able to sleep. Even breathing will feel like dying."
"Oh no." Sohwa's expression turned gravely serious. "What a disaster."
He knew this game. He knew his little fox loved to tease and play tricks—and he found it unbearably endearing.
"So what should I do now?" she asked, pouting dramatically, brows furrowed in that particular way she always wore when fishing for the answer she wanted.
Dohvi's lips curved.
"What can we do?" He shrugged, feigning helplessness. "We'll simply have to live together for the rest of our lives."
"Well then." Sohwa nodded quickly, as if accepting an inevitable fate. "So be it."
Dohvi laughed—a full, bright sound that lit up his entire face. Even her pretense, her playfulness, her stubborn refusal to be straightforward... all of it charmed him completely.
He was utterly, hopelessly captivated.
---