Chapter 71: Fox in Human Skin

Camela's scream shattered the stillness of her bedroom. Her body pressed back against the cracked mirror, shaking. Her eyes were wide open, unable to blink, yet she couldn't look away.

Because on the bed—where her crumpled dress lay, something else was resting there.

It was Vincent. Or at least something that looked like him.

But his skin was off. It was too smooth and stretched too wide in the wrong way. His golden eyes stared wide and unblinkingly, while his lips curved into a soft smile that never moved. His chest rose and fell rapidly in a perfect rhythm, but no sound came from his mouth.

Camela’s hands flew to her mouth in shock. “No…”

The maid’s voice cut through her panic—quiet yet sharp. “This is what you refused to acknowledge.”

Camela's voice wavered as she protested, “That’s not him. That’s not…”

Her words trailed off as the figure on the bed twitched slightly. Its hand flexed, its head turned slowly and mechanically, but the smile stayed fixed, and the eyes remained unblinking.

Then, the skin itself began to quiver and the body sat up.

Not Vincent—no, can never be Vincent, but it had his shape. Its skin rippled like fabric stretched too tightly. Its fingers bent awkwardly before straightening again. The golden eyes glowed brighter, hollow, devoid of warmth and life. It tilted its head curiously.

Suddenly, the skin peeled back, splitting open at the jaw. A sharp edge of fur glimmered beneath made of red and gold.

Camela stumbled closer, gripping the bedpost tightly. “Stop…don’t…”

The skin tore wider, revealing a fox's muzzle pushing through its long, gleaming teeth beneath it.

The Vincent-skin hung like discarded clothing, draped over this creature.

The fox spoke through both mouths at once—human lips stretching while animal teeth snapped together menacingly. “Do you love the man…or the monster that wears his skin?”

Camela shook her head frantically as tears streamed down her face. “You’re lying…you’re twisting him…”

From the corner, the maid's voice spoke softly. “Not lies. This is what binds him: the fox in human skin.”

The creature was fully revealed now as it stood, the Vincent-like skin sagging around it like delicate lace. Its claws burst through the fingers, while its tail flicked beneath the tattered remnants of human skin.

It moved closer to her.

Camela pressed against the mirror, her voice shaking. “Vincent…please, fight this…”

But the golden eyes remained fixed on hers and unwavering.

The fox growled, filling the air with a deep rumble. “Say it. What do you want? The man’s face…or the truth of the beast?”

Tears streamed down Camela's cheeks as she placed a hand over her heart and replied. “I want him. Just him. Not this…”

The creature chuckled softly, the sound of its laughter was harsh and unpleasant. “Then you will starve, little bride. Because he is both. He will always be both.”

It tossed the human skin mask onto the floor. The hollow face stared back at her, smiling still.

Camela felt her stomach churn. She wanted to look away—but the maid’s whisper pierced through sharply:

“Don’t look away. If you do, you’ll be giving him right back to the mask.”

Suddenly, the fox lunged.

Camela ducked and crashed into the mirror, causing the glass to crack further as lines spread outward like spiderwebs.

In the cracked reflection, she didn’t see just herself; she saw hundreds of versions of her own image. Each Camela held a different Vincent: one was smiling, another was bleeding, one was chained up, and another was burning.

The fox's breath felt hot against her neck. “Choose one. Which reflection will you keep?”

Her hands shook on the glass shards as her voice came out broken and desperate. “I don’t want reflections. I want him.”

The beast narrowed its eyes menacingly. Its claws scraped against the glass beside her ear. “Then take him from me. If you can.”

The maid’s steady voice rang out again. “He is inside this skin, Camela. But that skin belongs to the fox. If you truly want Vincent…you must strip it away.”

Camela froze in horror as fear tightened around her throat. “Strip it?…” she asked.

The maid's whisper responded in a clear tone. “Yes. Tear it off…or he will be lost forever.”

The fox lunged once more, pinning her against the mirror, its claws digging into the wooden frame just inches from her head.

“Do it,” the maid urged.

Camela's hands trembled as she reached up to grasp the loose human-like mask that sagged over the fox’s face.

Her stomach churned; the skin felt warm—too warm like flesh still alive.

The fox snarled but it didn’t pull away. Its glowing eyes locked onto hers as it spoke. “If you take it off…you might end up killing him. If you don’t…you lose him.”

Camela sobbed as she murmured under her breath. “Vincent…please forgive me.”

With a scream, she yanked at it and the skin ripped free from the beast.

A howl erupted from the beast —a mix of a human cry and an animal's scream. The ripped mask fell on the bed, still grinning eerily.

Beneath it, the fox's muzzle snapped wide open, with golden fire dripping from its jaws.

Its roar shook the entire room.

And within that roar—Camela heard Vincent’s voice cutting through, though a bit shaky. “Camela…don’t stop…”

Her chest surged high with hope and determination as she clawed at the remaining skin, ripping pieces away despite the blood coating on her hands.

The fox thrashed violently, leaving deep gouges in the walls as its body form shifted between man and beast—skin slipping off, fur bursting out, bones breaking and reshaping.

Camela held on tighter. “I’m not scared! Do you hear me? I’m not afraid of you!”

The last piece of human skin finally tore away.

The fox collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath, its fur drenched in red fire.

And beneath this wreckage lay Vincent, curled up against the sheets. His chest rose and fell rapidly; his eyes flickered gold before fading and then glowing again as sweat dripped down his temple.

Camela dropped to her knees beside him, gripping his hand tightly. “You’re here…you’re real…”

His lips quivered as he softly said in a shaky and hoarse voice, “Camela…I tried to hide it from you…the fox, the skin. I thought that if you saw it all…you would leave me.”

Her tears streamed down her cheek and fell onto his cheek. “I will never leave you. Not even if you burn or break,” she whispered.

The maid’s voice floated through the air like wisps of smoke. “Be careful. He has shed one skin, but the fox wears many layers.”

Camela quickly turned her head around to her. “What do you mean?” she asked.

The maid’s dark eyes sparkled with mystery as she replied. “You have only seen the first layer. There are more, and each one is waiting to be uncovered.”

The floor trembled beneath them as the mirror cracked fully, splitting down the middle in two.

Vincent coughed and gripped her hand tightly. His voice was strained. “Camela…please don’t let go…regardless of what skin I wear.”

She squeezed him hard as she held onto him fiercely, with the sound of her voice strong as she responded, “Never…I won’t.”

The maid raised her hand, and suddenly the room faded into dark smoke.

When the smoke cleared, Camela and Vincent found themselves in a garden of ashes.

Hanging from the lifeless trees were dozens of masks, each one displaying Vincent’s face in different versions—smiling, crying, screaming, and hollow.

The wind rustled through them, creating a chorus of thousands of voices speaking as one:

“Which one will you choose to love?”

Finally, the maid spoke in a quiet and serious tone. “Choose carefully, Camela. For the next mask you tear away might not reveal him…but could trap him forever.”

Camela felt her breath caught in her throat.