Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a Gumiho — a nine-tailed fox, just like the legends we've heard. One day, he fell deeply in love with a woman. With her by his side, he became the happiest being in the world.
But fate had other plans. The woman he loved passed away due to unforeseen circumstances. Heartbroken and alone once more, the Gumiho was left devastated, his joy lost with her.
"The End," said the man, a sigh woven into his words.
"Is that all?" said the girl, her eyes wide, lips drawn into a disappointed pout. Her voice carried a note of protest, as though the tale had ended too soon.
The storyteller — a man with silver in his hair and time in his eyes — chuckled softly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the teacup before him. The fire beside them crackled, throwing warm shadows across the room.
She leaned in closer, brows furrowed. "What happened to the fox? And his lover… did she truly die and never return? No rebirth? No second chance?"
The man's eyes glimmered, amused by her persistence. He leaned forward.
"Ah, but you see," he said in a lowered voice, "the story doesn't end there. Some say a Gumiho's first love is his last love. So, he gave her his fox bead — the very essence of his life, his power... his soul."
The girl blinked, drawn deeper into the tale.
"It is said," the man continued, "that before her final breath, they made a promise — that she would return, reborn in another life, and he would wait. No matter how many lifetimes it took, he would search for her."
"And did he?" she asked, her voice a soft breath.
He smiled wistfully, eyes distant. "Some say he's still wandering the world, searching for the one who holds his bead — the one who once knew his heart. Some say she has already returned, and they've crossed paths without even knowing it. And some..." he paused, lips curling into a cryptic smile, "...some say it's just a myth."
The fire popped, the moment lingering in the quiet hush between them.
"Now off you go," said the man with a chuckle, flipping his finger gently on her forehead.
The girl laughed softly and nodded, quickly making her way home. As she walked under the moonlit sky, her thoughts drifted back to the story. But she shook them off. It's just a story, she told herself.
As she reached her home, she called out, "Mom, I'm back!"
"Ruby, welcome home, my daughter. Come, let's go inside," said Leah Anderson, Ruby's mother, wrapping her arms around her warmly.
Ruby smiled, shaking her long, slightly wavy dark-blue hair as she stepped into the cozy house. Her grey eyes gleamed under the porch light, and her skin, white as milk, glowed softly in the evening air.
Ruby Anderson was 20 years old, a young woman with a curious mind and a heart that believed in myths and legends. She always said, "Stories don't come from nothing — they exist for a reason." It was that belief that made her see magic in the mundane and mystery in the everyday.
Now that she had come of age, Ruby had taken on a new role — managing her mother's company, Anderson Enterprises. Her mother, Leah, had asked her to step in and help, and Ruby had agreed without hesitation.
Her father, David Anderson, was a photographer with a deep love for nature. He often went on tours, capturing wild landscapes and hidden corners of the world. Sometimes the whole family joined him; other times, he wandered alone, content behind his camera lens. Leah never minded — she had her own passions and dreams. And throughout their life together, David had always supported her, encouraging her ambitions and standing by her side. But now she wants to retire and wanted to join her husband on these fun tours. That's why she wanted to handover her company to her daughter.
To be continued...