Chapter 1: The Last Fox Spirit (and 90% Off)

The Fox Spirit Emporium’s annual sale just dropped—and everyone in town lost their minds.

The news exploded on social media. I barely had time to throw on my hoodie and sprint across town before the place was almost stripped bare—just the usual parking lot jammed with Teslas, battered Civics, and one ancient pickup blasting country radio—everyone desperate for something magical. By the time I pushed through the neon-lit glass doors, only the very last male fox spirit was left.

The owner—a round-faced woman in a plaid shirt, stacked with more bracelets than I could count—kindly brought him out for me. Her bracelets jingled with every move, and she smelled faintly of patchouli and lemon hand sanitizer. She flicked her eyes at the shimmering pendant on his collar and gave me a knowing grin, like she was letting me in on a secret nobody else got.

This fox spirit was tall and lean, his features so refined he looked almost otherworldly—handsome enough to make anyone’s heart skip a beat!

He stood in the shop’s harsh fluorescent light, arms folded, with that model-perfect jawline and the kind of cheekbones that belonged in an art gallery. His hair was a glossy ash-brown, longer than most guys wore it, and his eyes—icy gray, almost silver—didn’t give away a single emotion. I clutched my phone tighter, pretending I wasn’t just here to gawk. If he’d looked at me for half a second, I would’ve forgotten my name on the spot.

But he was icy cold, not even bothering to look up when he saw me.

He looked like every too-cool guy in a Brooklyn coffee shop—head turned, headphones in, acting like I was interrupting his podcast. He had the look of a guy who’d never waited for anyone or anything in his life.

The owner glanced at him, then smiled apologetically at me. “This is the last fox spirit in the shop. I’ll give you 90% off.”

Ninety percent off?

My brain did the math so fast I almost sprained something.

First thought: nothing good comes cheap!

Was this like those too-good-to-be-true Craigslist deals? Was I about to end up on a true crime podcast?

My inner bargain-hunter screamed, but so did my mom’s voice in my head: ‘You get what you pay for, honey.’

Fox Spirit Emporium only opens once a year, specializing in these gorgeous, skillful, human-shaped fox spirits. I’ve been stressed out lately, so I came to buy one for some fun!

Honestly, I’d been planning for this all month. Work had been eating me alive, my savings account was a graveyard, and all my friends kept showing off their fox spirits on Instagram. I figured, why not get in on the trend? A little retail therapy—just with a side of supernatural.

But such a huge discount—could this fox spirit be defective?

I mean, what was the catch? Was he gonna shed everywhere or hack my bank account? My mind spun with worst-case scenarios. I checked for a return policy sticker out of habit.

The owner seemed to read my mind and explained, “This fox spirit’s training went a little sideways. While the others learned how to please customers, he focused on making money. Isn’t getting rich what everyone wants these days? He can help you get rich.”

Get rich?

Now that was tempting!

I mean, forget love and affection—who needs that when you’ve got cash flow? Maybe I’d finally be able to stop budgeting my lattes and pay off my student loans.

“If that’s the case, why hasn’t he been sold yet?”

The owner rubbed his hands awkwardly. “He’s been sold before, but the customers wanted him for...well, stuff he wasn’t interested in. He’s not a fan of the hands-on crowd.”

Tsk, so he’s got standards!

Honestly, I respected that. Boundaries—important! He wasn’t about to be anyone’s boy toy. In a way, that made him even more appealing. Plus, you don’t see many magical creatures drawing their own lines these days.

“And our shop offers a one-month, unconditional return at the original price. You can try him out first, but... if he helps you get rich, you can’t try anything funny!”

Return policy secured—just like buying at Target. The owner’s grin was sly, but her eyes flicked between me and the fox spirit like she knew there was trouble brewing.

I glanced at the fox spirit—then at my empty wallet. My heart thudded. This was either the best decision I’d ever made, or the start of a very weird horror movie.

He looked bored out of his mind, but there was something sharp in the way his gaze slid past me, like he was weighing me up in some silent auction. I felt myself blush, then told myself I was being silly. Magical fox or not, I’m the one with the wallet here.

Since the owner said so—

Alright, I’ll buy him!

I signed the paperwork, stuck the receipt in my purse, and followed the fox spirit out the door, trying not to skip like a kid on Christmas morning.